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florencemtrash · 1 year ago

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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Fifteen

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: ANGST... that's about the only major warning I can think of

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Jurian and Vassa took the attic and became scarce, but when night and day slid into one another you still heard her painful screams, muffled as they were by the magic that encased their room. It was a feeling more than anything else. A tension that gripped the House until it seemed to be sobbing. At sunrise and sunset without fail, Vassa’s body broke and rearranged itself, flesh turning to feathers and feathers to flesh. Before it had been a painless process where her body came and went in its various forms, but no longer. Now she felt everything alongside an itch deep within her bones that couldn’t be satiated by food or drink or anything else.

Go to the lake! Her body screamed. Go to Koschei! And then punished her when she didn’t comply. Like a beast had sunk its claws into her flesh, its waiting mouth only inches away from snapping. To stay away was a slow, agonizing march to death. To move close would be swift, but final, and somehow Vassa knew that if she gave into Koschei’s call, she would be lost forever.

You lingered at the base of the attic's staircase, your bare feet sinking into the soft rug until the sounds of cracking bones finally ceased. Three pairs of feet shuffled above your head and you heard Jurian’s faint whispers like a gentle push of air. When the door opened and Lucien emerged, you saw Vassa crumpled on the floor, now a bone-thin woman with dull, coppery hair and skin ravaged by scratches and pockmarks.

“Shhhh. It’s ok.” Jurian whispered, encasing her in his arms.

“I can’t,” her voice trembled. “It hurts. I-I-I’m burning.”

“Y/n?” Lucien frowned. The door slammed shut with a bang and you jumped backwards. You clutched a velvet pouch close to your chest and then slowly held it out to Lucien.

“It’s for Vassa,” you explained, trying to keep your eyes on his mismatched ones — one russet as river stones, one gold like the sun. He opened the bag and stared in confusion at the fine, white powder within, giving it a tentative sniff. “Morphine. Humans use it for pain.”

“I know of it.” Lucien’s frown deepened. “They get addicted. Take too much and they die.”

“She’s already addicted. That’s what’s happening isn’t it? Koschei’s drawing his power away to get her to return to the lake and every day that passes she’s dying.” Lucien tightened his fists around the bag, still skeptical. Vassa had endured enough. He didn’t want to have her endure this either. “The bag is enchanted and will never allow her to draw too much. Just enough to calm her hunger. If we’re lucky it might help her sleep too.”

Lucien stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists from around the gold drawstring, waiting for Vassa’s cries to cease. But they never did. And there you were standing in front of him, unwavering and expectant. There was a glimmer of stubbornness in your gaze. A sign of the hours you’d spent researching Vassa’s condition and acquiring the strange human drug, and your disapproval if Lucien didn’t accept it.

“Thank you, Y/n,” he whispered, “But please go. Vassa hates for anyone to see her like this. Even Jurian and I.”

You swallowed thickly and nodded, disappearing down the stairs as quickly as you could. The next morning when the sun rose over the mountains and Vassa changed, you heard only the House’s usual breathings.

The House buckled under the weight of the Inner Circle’s secrets and the sheer volume of history that had occurred within its walls and between its occupants. It utilized its magic in clever ways — your door opened with a creak that wasn’t there before so that Azriel would always hear your comings and goings. Lucien would suddenly find his door locked and the curtains drawn on the days when Helion made surprise visits to see Y/n. Nyx would find himself ushered around by a broomstick that swatted his ankles when the adults were discussing private matters. It was all a great deal of work.

So it was a relief when Rhys and Feyre quietly moved their children to the House of Wind with Nesta and Cassian, and when Mor and Emerie took the final steps in emptying their rooms and went to hide out in their city apartment. It was even more of a relief when Helion returned to the Day Court, but not before throwing a heavy threat in Azriel’s face that if he should ever hurt his daughter again in any way, shape, or form, he’d strip the wings off his back.

Meals at the House were tense, quiet affairs, something not even Feyre, Elain, and Nesta’s sisterly conversations or Cassian’s light-hearted humor could ease. Elain stayed close to Lucien’s side, one hand always on his arm or resting against his back or brushing against his, but that didn’t erase what the Blood Duel had done to his trust in Elain. He was kind, but guarded, especially when Azriel was in the room. But it was more than she could ask for because it was more than she’d ever given him in the beginning.

You and Azriel were worse off.

You were speaking once more, but your words were always laced with a bit of apprehension and Azriel’s were always filled with sorrowful hope. Conversations were dull, short, and didn’t even begin to brush the surface of all the things you should have been talking about. You were terrified not of the Shadowsinger, but of his opinion of you. Did he want you so he could fix you? So that he could feel needed? So that you could be another one in a list of females he burned through?

It never truly seemed like that was the case, but you also didn’t trust yourself when it came to your emotions. You had told him once that you couldn’t imagine having a love like Feyre and Rhysand’s, or Nesta and Cassian’s, and you still meant it. You were a matchstick and he was flint, and you didn’t know what would happen to you after he had lit you aflame. For all you knew, you were already burning and this wonderful thing you’d had with Azriel would live and die with nothing more than the memory of an embrace in Rhysand’s office to show for it.

But oh how you ached to touch him again. To hold him like you had before and to have him return the gesture just as strongly.

You stiffened when Azriel’s hand brushed your arm, warmth bursting out from the point of contact.

“I’m sorry.” Azriel whispered, and he was talking about more than the wine he spilled when he reached over the table.

You spared him a glance, the first real look you’d given him in two weeks. The flagon slipped from his hands, and if it weren’t for his shadows catching it an inch above the floor, the room would have been doused in burgundy red.

“Does Lucien know?”

Rhysand looked up from his papers. Missives from the Darkbringer army and Illyrian troops up north clogged his desk, all begrudgingly accepting his orders to prepare for what could amount to another lengthy war. Letters thrown back and forth between the seven courts added to the chaos, all of them war-weary and desperate for a path that wouldn’t lead to bloodshed.

You took up the center of his room and stood so quietly he hadn’t even noticed you until you spoke. It had been eating away at you for days since Lucien’s arrival. Every time you two saw one another or spoke, you tried to scrounge for clues that would reveal whether he knew he was Helion’s son and whether he might suspect you were Helion’s daughter as well. The other members of the Inner Circle had been tight-lipped about that secret, a skill you now knew they all possessed with alarming dexterity.

“Does Lucien know he’s Helion’s son?”

Rhysand slumped back in his chair, rubbing his temples with one careful hand. Finally he said, “Yes.”

The answer knocked the breath from your lungs. You’d been expecting the opposite. “Does he… does he know about me?”

Rhys sighed and shook his head. You didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved.

“How long has he known?”

“Six years. Feyre was the one to tell him. She was actually the first of us to recognize the similarity, believe it or not. But then, no one ever dared to give weight to the rumors surrounding Helion and Aurelia Vanserra while Beron was alive.”

You rocked back and forth on your feet, breath shaking as it entered your body. “Six years. Six years and you never thought to tell Helion that he has a son? I thought you two were friends?”

Rhysand tensed. “I’m Lucien’s friend as well and he begged us to never speak of it - to live as though we’d never learned that secret. And I keep my secrets. We all do.”

“You and your family have made that very clear in the time that I’ve been here.”

“If you mean Azriel—”

“Don’t play dumb, Rhys, you know I’m talking about him.” Tears pricked at your eyes, adding to the humiliation that had coated you like a film ever since you’d seen his memories about Mor, Elain, and Gwyn. “I don’t—” You swallowed thickly, “I can imagine how you must have all been whispering behind my back about Azriel and I. How you must have found it so pathetic the way he charmed me when I was really his fourth choice.”

“That’s not true.” Was what Rhysand was going to say. But he didn’t need to. Azriel said it for him.

Your face lost all color, any bravado melting away at the feeling of Azriel’s shadows wrapping around your ankles like ribbons of silk. You could feel him in the room and that quiet darkness he carried around with him as inherently as if it were stitched onto his body.

Azriel was shaking. Shaking. With anger, turmoil, or grief — you couldn’t name it. All you knew is that one moment you were standing in Rhysand’s office, all velvet upholstery and suave, expensive taste, and the next you were in Azriel’s room.

Everything smelled like mountain air. Maybe it was the gothic windows that stretched into the vaulted ceilings, stained glass opening out onto a personal balcony with deep blue curtains fluttering in the breeze. But you were sure that even with the windows barred it would smell the same. It would smell like Azriel. If you threw open his wardrobe you’d come face to face with a wall of black. Lots and lots of black. Black suits he hardly ever wore. Black fighting leathers. Black leather jackets for everyday. Black trousers. Black boots on the floor. Very practical. Very Azriel.

If you dug through his dresser drawers you’d find black boxers and socks to match and no shortage of knives and daggers hidden behind wooden planks or in leather sleeves nailed to the bottom of his desk. But at first glance you only saw three weapons in plain view — Truth Teller, blade down and stuck in the wood grain of his desk beside a pile of reports, and two obsidian blades hanging from the wall beside his midnight blue bed in the shape of an “x.”

The smell — Azriel’s smell — calmed you, at least up to the point where you turned to find him standing less than six inches away, hazel eyes boring into yours. Then your pulse skyrocketed. You were certain that if he only looked down to your heart he’d see it pounding against your chest like a drum skin ready to burst.

“That’s not true,” he repeated earnestly. “And don’t you dare believe it. Not even for a second.”

His eyes jumped back and forth between yours and before he could stop himself, his hands were grasping yours in a gentle hold. The leather gloves were soft and supple beneath your fingertips. You wanted to rip them off so you could feel his scarred hands again.

“You weren’t meant to hear that,” you whispered, suddenly feeling small. That angry humiliation went up in a puff of smoke and left you shy and uncertain.

Azriel gripped your hands a little tighter and you watched as tendrils of shadow worked their way up your arms and got lost in your hair. “But I did,” he said breathlessly, “And I need you to know that it’s not true.”

“Azriel—”

“I know—” he was shaking his head, “I know what Helion said and I won’t lie and tell you that I’m perfect or that I’ve made any smart decisions about love in the past — I’ve not make a single one — but… but Y/n you’re not a fourth choice. You’re not something broken that I’m trying to fix or some fantasy I’ve fallen for.”

His hands shook and despite the gloves his hands still felt sticky and wet. Slick with your blood. The burning scent of iron in his nose.

“You’re the most real thing in the world to me. You’re—” You’re my mate. The words crawled up his throat like acid and it just felt wrong. He would say those words to you. He would. But not now. Not like this. He came up with something else. “Y/n, please tell me you believe me. Please.”

And there you were. Falling all over again. Burning like a matchstick on fire. The flames slowly eating away at you bit by bit. You wondered what would happen when you finally hit the ground, or when you ran out of length. Would he still hold you like this? Would you still feel real to him?

“How am I meant to know, Azriel?”

You’d always been good at books. You knew the ways in which these stories worked where the themes and plot points had been preordained and written with the purpose of being tied up in a neat package by the final page. People were very different. They were unpredictable and chaotic and they could lie through the skin of their teeth and believe they were telling the truth. And that was the problem wasn’t it? Because you still believed every word that came out of Azriel’s mouth, and his hands still felt like they were keeping you tethered to this earth when sometimes your powers and the memories that came with them made you feel like a whisper on the wind. Weightless and at the mercy of something you couldn’t control.

“You can trust me. You can know for yourself.”

He pressed your hand against his cheek and you wanted to cry at the faint pricks of stubble beneath your skin and the sharp curve of his jaw.

He wanted you to use your power on him. He wanted you to learn all the ways he wanted you. All the ways he loved you.

But you couldn’t do it.

Azriel panicked when you remained silent, staring at him and at his hands like you were frightened. All at once he was back on the streets of Velaris, cobblestones shaving away at the skin of his palms as he dragged his way up to you inch by bloody inch, fighting against a body that was too broken to move.

He couldn’t remember what it felt like when he’d stabbed you through the chest and dropped you on the street. Everything between the moment he saw Andrian’s clear-cut eyes to the moment he saw Rhysand’s horrified gaze was fuzzy and dark. But that made it worse because now in his nightmares he could imagine all the ways he’d hurt you, each version teeming with the same level of horror and possibility as the previous one.

He let you go and hated himself when you stepped back, your hand slipping away.

“I won’t… I won’t hurt you again, Y/n. I swear on my life. I’ll-I’ll make a bargain, I don’t care. I would sooner die than let something like that happen again.”

I don’t know what I’d do with that kind of love. If I’d be able to handle it. It might be too much for me.

“Y/n, please.”

I am not broken. But I am afraid.

You fled from his bedroom.

The air had a bite to it now with winter descending. The snow line on the mountains dipped lower and lower each day, creeping like ivy down a brick wall.

Elain never wore gloves. Not when she was gardening. It was something she and Ione had in common. She liked the feeling of her strong hands, the callouses on her palms and fingers that she’d earned all on her own. She grunted, slamming her shovel into the soil and feeling the microscopic chips of ice give way when she kicked down on the blade. It was too late in the season to be planting tulip bulbs. If she’d been in Velaris she would have done this four weeks ago. But it was alright with her. She knew the value of hard work, and she had enough hope for the future to believe that even though she was late, she’d have something beautiful to call hers come springtime.

“It’s time for that conversation I was telling you about,” she said cryptically, as was her way.

Lucien dropped the final basket beside where Elain now knelt in the dirt, her pale pink dress dirtied and littered with her own handprints. The brown bulbs rolled around like oversized chestnuts, the kind that he’d be roasting over a fire right now if he were still in Autumn Court. Instead he was here, lingering in a Court that had never felt like home. Then again… he’d never felt at home in Autumn, Spring, or the Human Lands either.

He straightened up and wiped his hands clean on his trousers, golden and russet eyes trailing over the River House’s grounds for this mysterious person he was meant to speak to.

There.

The faint swishing of black robes behind a dark green topiary tree. He should have known Elain had been talking about you.

You cracked your knuckles and rehearsed the words you’d scribbled out earlier that day and then set to fire in a maddening loop. You’d been restless with the truth of Lucien’s parentage and you couldn’t believe that the others had held their tongues so readily. As it was, without Azriel’s company to help quiet your mind, you’d dug into this new piece of information like a starving animal and couldn’t let go.

Was this a good time to tell him? Would there ever be a good time to tell him? You had no idea.

Somewhere in the attic, you knew Vassa was itching to take to the skies like the burning comet she was. Every night she shivered in Jurian’s arms, the morphine barely able to take the edge off the humming in her bones, and every morning she let him lock her away in her cage. It was getting worse and worse trying to keep her from succumbing to Koschei’s influence. Even now you thought you could hear her keen cries whistling from the attic like ten thousand arrows launched into the air.

Somewhere else, in a secret, hidden place you knew nothing about, Andrian had finally been imprisoned. Andrian with his bent neck and silver, candy-floss hair and bloody little hands.

You shivered and jumped back five feet when Lucien called your name, kind eyes narrowed in concern. His shirt was loose and open and the sweat on his body rose like mist off his skin. He was his mother’s son first, Helion’s child second, and fire still ran through his veins. The chill did not touch him.

He tipped his head to the side, red hair spilling out from the messy way he’d tied it up and away from his face. A brutal scar ran through his eye like a fissure, starting at the center of his brow before clawing its way down his jaw like a lightning strike frozen in time. But for all the cruelty he’d been dealt with in life, his eyes were gentle, even the mechanical one that whirred and flashed in the sun.

They were even kinder when he looked at you. You with your inquisitive gaze and curious nature, like a stray cat that couldn’t help but linger too long at doorways. One foot inside, one foot ready to run and hide. He’d caught you watching him at dinners, and he’d catch himself staring when you walked around the house with a book in your hand, so utterly absorbed that you would bump against doorways and bang your hips against sharp corners.

“Elain told me about you. Did you know that?”

You blinked in surprise. “What did she say?”

“Elain… Elain doesn’t always speak clearly. Much of what comes out of her mouth can feel eerie or discomforting. But, she told me before we left for the Night Court that I would be happy I came. That I would never regret the things I learned on my trip.” He tilted his head even further, looking more and more like a fox with each turn of his face. “And she mentioned a bird. A bird with ink-tipped wings and eyes like a crow.”

You flexed your fingers, well aware that the tips were smudged with ink, the nails bitten down to the quick.

“Someone clever and cautious who’d been hidden away their whole life and needed to see the sun.”

You felt stripped bare. That strange vulnerability that comes with being summed up in so few words had you feeling airy. Like one sentence could be enough to carry the weight of the three centuries you’d lived and never buckle.

“I know you’re Helion’s son. I recognized it the moment I saw you.”

Lucien stepped back, scarlet brows shooting up into his hair with alarm.

You hesitated, then continued on cautiously. “I recognized it because I would know my father’s face anywhere.”

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

I KNOW IT'S A CLIFFHANGER ENDING BUT I NEEDED TO BREAK EVERYTHING INTO CHAPTERS SOMEWHERE AND I'M GOING TO TRY AND GET CHAPTER 16 UP BY WEDNESDAY SO I DON'T LEAVE Y'ALL HANGING FOR TOO LONG. HAVE MERCY!!!

The good news is that Chapter 16 is already mostly written, I just need to edit it all to make sure things flow smoothly. Also, LUCIEN KNOWS NOW AHHHHHHHHHHHH

Sorry for the Azriel angst... but it's delicious, no?

#the shadowsinger and the inkbird #azriel x reader #azriel x reader slowburn #azriel x reader angst #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #I know the fandom has a toxic shipping culture around Elain/Lucien/Azriel in particular #leave me alone all right #I am going to write the couplings as makes sense because this is a READER X AZRIEL FIC #but also i don't stand for a lot of the Elain slander #smells of sexism to me sorry not sorry just let the girl be #obviously she's not perfect but she doesn't deserve the absurd amount of hate she gets #thanks for coming to my ted talk

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sunnie-angel · 5 months ago

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ahhh this my first time sending an ask! So pumpkin carving + Jason's s/o reader who got murdered somehow (it could be targeted or not) what do you think he'd rage like Achilles? Maybe try bring them back?

i'm so honoured to be your first ask 🥹 fingers crossed that i'll see you in my inbox again in the future. i hope this was what you wanted!

jason todd has always known his capacity for violence could be devastating. apocalyptic. has had that knowledge thrumming in his veins since the day he woke from the dead. but that knowledge has always been tempered by you. you with your sunshine smiles and hands so tender. you hold him back from the abyss, a chain around the snarling beast's muzzle, and he loves you for it.

a bullet, wrong place wrong time wrong target, blots you out. takes all that sunshine and sweetness away. even as you're gasping out your last breaths, you beg him not to lose sight of himself, of the peace that he's earned. but those are promises he cannot keep, not while he's keening and cradling a body that has betrayed him by not housing you anymore.

sing oh muse of rage, but its not the rage of achilles they should be worried about. it's the blood that runs like water through the streets, that decorate the walls of shady warehouses and gang hideouts. it's the man that's rending flesh from bone with his bare hands like its nothing. nothing matters to him anymore. nothing but the promise that even though his killer is still living, yours won't be.

terror grips the city, the kind of noxious toxic fume that not even the bats can put out. there's a new kind of monster out there and he won't rest until the debt's been paid. cronies and henchman all scrambling like rats from sinking ships turn up floating in the harbour. kingpins and commanders in pieces in the gutters. its the kind of chaos that consumes, that eclipses the heartache with the repetitive thunk of fists on flesh, the slick drag of blade against skin.

and then it's over. every last person even tangentially connected to your killer is dead. there's no one else to kill. and every day jason has to wake up to a bed with a cavernous void where you should be, drink from only one mug in a matching set, stumble around the pile of laundry you had been meaning to get to. it's no kind of living.

but there are whispers, whispers in the underground of a pit with special powers, hidden and guarded by a league of mercenaries, of assassins. it scratches at the doors to memories he'd thought long locked away. for good reason. but it's a chance, it's a choice, one he thought he would never have. jason leaves gotham behind, still echoing with his rage, one foot in the grave already and only your closed casket to keep him company.

you can request more head canons as part of sunnie's soft autumn

#sunnie's soft autumn #jason todd x reader #sunnie writes 🌻

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minnaci · 10 months ago

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gojo satoru x gn!reader · nsfw · wc: 0.7k

satoru's omegan nature has long been a source of contention with his clan. luckily, shame has no place in your bed, much less between your legs. yes, he'll claim you anyways.

contents: a/b/o dynamics feat. omega gojo, brief satosugu, penetrative sex (reader receiving), buttplug mention (gojo receiving), mating/claiming, heavy themes of possessiveness

reader details: reader is called "omega" and referred to with they/them pronouns. they are described as having a hole, but no other gendered or physical descriptors are used for their appearance.

a/n: this is my entry for @lorelune's spring fever a/b/o collab! im a bit late but i hope u all enjoy nonetheless :3

The Gojo clan is steeped in tradition. Old money and older power seeps through their veins, soaks in their roots like the finest green tea leaves in boiling water.

Their greatest pride— Satoru, the dual wielder of the Six Eyes and Limitless. The most powerful sorcerer of his generation, and of all the generations that precede him.

Their greatest shame— Satoru. Omega.

It’s funny, though. He’s never felt like an omega. Not when he single-handedly defeated his “strongest” handler at the tender age of six. Not when he grows up and learns to exorcise curse after curse with the barest flick of his finger.

When he shares his first heat with an alpha well over a decade later, Satoru is still the one doing the fucking. He sees nothing wrong with that. He’s the strongest. Why wouldn’t alphas submit to him?

Geto does it easily enough, spreading his legs with a sly, easy smile, and Satoru finds great pleasure in taking his best friend apart piece by piece until his big, strong alpha is nothing but a drooling mess in his sheets.

It’s nice in the way that drinking water is nice. Refreshing. Necessary to maintain good health. But Satoru has always had a sweet tooth, and it only took a decade to instill within him the killer instinct befitting of the sole heir of the Gojo clan.

Geto never stood a chance against Satoru.

But Satoru… Satoru never stood a chance against you.

Sharing heats with you is electrifying. There’s something that feels so right about the soft, hot squeeze of your pretty hole around his cock. Your gasps and moans stoke a fire in his chest— one that tells him to fuck you deeper, claim you for his own. And you are his. Nobody would deny it— how could they hope to defy Satoru’s will, Omega or not?

“Satoru,” you whine, scent reeking of warm vanilla and aching desperation. Your pleasure is honey for his sore throat, your moans airy as spun sugar. “Satoru, please, please, need you.”

“I’m here,” he pants against your mouth. His hole flutters around the plug that occupies his ass, but that pleasure is secondary to the pure bliss of sinking deep inside your pulsing heat. He gives an experimental grind, and you let out matching whimpers. Oh, Satoru might be the Heavenly Son, the strongest, the most powerful, but you are the perfect Omega, all sticky-sweet slick and heady submission. “Let me have you, Omega.”

Your scent blooms as you clench down, a wordless plea. “Yours! Satoru!”

“Greedy little thing,” Satoru purrs and nips at your swollen scent gland, drawing a pitiful whine from your throat. Still, though, you keep your neck bared to him, allowing him to scent you and mark you as he pleases. It sends a thrill through some deep, base part of him— you belong to him as stars belong to the sky, as rain belongs to the sea. You belong to him as a rabbit belongs to the wolves. You are his in the way that nothing else is.

Something primal swoops in his gut— some previously dormant instinct brought to light by your ardent adoration. His teeth sink deep into the soft flesh of your scent gland. He has an Omega’s blunt fangs, dull things made for gentle nibbles and playful nips, but what he lacks in biological imperative he makes up for with single-minded force.

He is the strongest, after all. He’ll claim you as his mate— teeth bared an act of defiance against biology, against curses, against the world. Belonging is the rivulets of blood that run down your neck. Pleasure is the forceful snap of two souls into inevitable orbit. Love is teeth in skin, tongue against flesh.

Your body goes slack beneath him, and your hole clenches almost unbearably tight as an orgasm razes your body in white-hot pleasure. Satoru’s hole clenches in sympathy, milking his plug even as you milk his cock. Your body begs him to claim it, begs him to pump you full, and who is he to ignore his Omega’s siren song? He spills into you, thick and hot, and copper-iron-metal drips from his fangs as he wills your impossible bond into reality.

To be Gojo Satoru is to live alone and in defiance— of his clan, of his restrictions, of his nature. To be Gojo Satoru’s mate is the opposite. He will never let you walk this world alone.

“Omega,” he growls, because that is what you are. Satoru’s Omega.

“Satoru,” you whine back, and that, too, sounds just right. Your Satoru.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #writemin!#+gojo

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blackleatherjacketz · 8 months ago

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Shadow and Sin: Final Chapter

Klaus Mikaelson, Elijah Mikaelson x Female Reader

Summary: Having recently moved to New Orleans, you become intimately acquainted with both Mikaelson brothers, but don't find out who they truly are until it's too late.

This Chapter: You wake up and make your choice.

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Blood Drinking, Near Death Experiences, Love Triangle, Witchcraft, Kissing, Crying, Fear, Angst, Manipulation

Word Count: 4.4k+

Read the rest of the story HERE

Klaus stands over your and Elijah’s bodies as he swallows the last few drops of your blood, relishing in the decadent flavor he only got a small taste of before. It’s rich and sweet, with notes of raspberries and dark chocolate, triggering his taste buds like nothing else has in over a thousand years. Draining you of this delectable elixir was what he thought he wanted most in that moment, what he believed you deserved after betraying him with none other than his own brother, his own flesh and blood behind his back. But he still can’t deny the dueling streams of tears now crystallizing on his cheeks as his sorrow dries in the aching aftermath of what he’s done.

Time always seemed to prove that everyone in his life preferred his noble brother over him; his own mother and father, his siblings, Marcellus, and now you. Even under the ancient power of a witch’s curse, he still couldn’t manage to measure up to the timeless charms of the great Elijah Mikaelson. For once in his life, he thought he had something special, a bond that transcended beauty and pheromones, one with room to embrace each other on a level he never quite had the strength to embrace in himself. If all that was a lie, if what you felt for him was nothing more than a slew of Latin incantations over a few candles in a warehouse, then he had no other choice but to make you feel the gut-wrenching pain that you caused him in return.

“Look what you made me do.” He mutters before looking down at your lifeless body, your hand still somehow reaching out toward Elijah’s even in death. The image alone is almost enough to make him feel terrible for what he did to you, for reacting as if this was all your fault, but he pushes that feeling of guilt down to the very pit of his stomach.

He’ll have plenty of time to feel bad when this is all over.

“Alright witch, show’s over… although I do hope you enjoyed it.” Klaus calls out to her with a smirk as the remainder of your coagulated blood begins to dry onto his chin. “Come on now, I can already smell your fear.” He disguises his regret by ignoring the two of you on the floor in an attempt to step outside of the circle, but is met with an invisible barrier, halting him in place.

It’s still up. But how can that be?

“Alright, she’s obviously made her choice, now let me go,” he bargains, lowering his voice to that deep, gravelly tone. “Perhaps you and I can make a deal.”

“Has she, now?” The witch appears out of nowhere, revealing that she’s been watching this entire time behind a complex cloaking spell. “Or did you take your anger and paranoia out on her before she had a chance to make a real choice, completing your own self-sabotaging prophecy?”

“Ah, you think that you know me, is that it?” He leans in as close to the boundary as her magic allows him, his heart pumping his own supernatural level of adrenaline through his veins, priming him for what’s to come. “Tell me love, have I wronged you somehow in the past? Obliterated some of your ancestors, massacred members of your coven? Or perhaps it’s more personal than that? Maybe I turned someone you love into a vampire, cutting them off from their magic entirely? A boyfriend or girlfriend, perhaps?”

“How did it feel?” She immediately deflects with a grin, casually walking around the circle as he follows her like a caged animal waiting for the perfect moment to strike. “To connect with someone on such a deep and emotional level before having them ripped away from you in an instant? And not just by some random guy off the street either, but by your very own brother?” She laughs, getting a little bit closer to the circle that ensnares him. “I can’t imagine the pits of despair that kind of betrayal would send someone to.”

Klaus nods at her words, silently acknowledging his hurt as if his actions hadn’t already made that abundantly clear. He’d been betrayed by his siblings a handful of times over the centuries, but nothing up until now had cut quite as deep as this, no matter how he tries to reframe it in his mind.

“It’s a clever plan, I’ll give you that.” Klaus forces a laugh, studying the witch as she slowly encircles him. “But not your best one, not even by half. Did you really think that you could usher in the demise of the Mikaelsons with something as trivial as this? Tear us apart over the life of some silly human girl when we’ve already performed this song and dance on our own for centuries? I mean, I’ve killed so many of their lovers in the past that I’ve honestly lost count decades ago. And I’ve certainly daggered them for much less, so as you can see, little witch, we don’t need your help.”

“No?” She stops walking and turns to face him, tilting her head with a glint of madness in her eyes. “You could have fooled me. You’ve left quite the bloody trail of destruction in the wake of your little temper tantrum, just like I knew you would.”

“As soon as this barrier breaks, and it will,” Klaus places his palms against the invisible wall between them. “I’m going to enjoy making you pay for this pathetic little attempt at a regime change. In fact, I'm going to take my time tearing you limb from limb so that even the alligators in the bayou will have trouble determining which body parts of yours they’re devouring.”

“And you said you didn’t need my help.” She laughs, looking back at you and Elijah. “Seems like I struck a nerve. And it won’t break, actually. The poor girl never made her choice, so it looks like the three of you are stuck there indefinitely.” The witch crosses her arms over her chest and takes a step back, keeping her eyes on Klaus until she reaches her collection of magical objects. “Pity.”

“Well not yet, she hasn’t, no.” He glances back as Elijah begins to stir, healing from his temporary injury just in time like he knew he would. “But I’ve learned that patience is a virtue.”

Elijah slowly comes to, blinking himself back into the realm of the living as his fingers just barely touch yours, twitching back to life while Klaus’ muffled voice echoes off in the distance. He attempts to hold your hand as he sits up next to you, feeling the cold grip of death stealing the very warmth from your body as he notices the bite mark Klaus had left on your neck.

“Oh, no, Niklaus,” he whispers under his breath as his horror stifles it, carefully gathering your limp body into his arms. This was his fault, all of it. If only he had caught onto the jealous expression in his brother’s eyes when he smelled you on his clothing that day, if only he had enough self control to leave you to your own devices after saving you from his men, then maybe you wouldn’t have ended up like this. “No.” He thinks of everything else he could have done to prevent this, to sideline his brother and stop his anger from getting the best of him like it always does, but realizes that it’s too late for any of that now. “You didn’t...”

He did.

“Oh, don’t act so surprised, brother. This isn’t the first time I’ve thwarted one of your romantic endeavors, and I highly doubt it will be the last.” Klaus keeps his eyes on the witch as he speaks to Elijah, his tone more jovial than ever.

“How could you?” His eyes glisten with remorse as his bottom lip quivers, the loss of your life weighing him down like an anchor, pulling him deeper into the waters of his despair. “She isn’t just mine, Niklaus. She was yours, too. She’s ours, she’s… my god.”

Your eyes spring open as your previous dreamlike state phases back into reality, taking your first new breath into this world, surprised at being thrust back into your body so quickly after walking through the ethereal glow of the afterlife. It was a beautiful and peaceful place, so unlike this world that you wanted to return as quickly as possible, but you get the feeling that the arms holding you close won’t allow that. Images of a long hallway and doors of different colors linger in your memory as you try to make sense of your new surroundings, figuring out what could have pulled you from the world beyond. What time is it? Where are you? Are you still dreaming? Where did the hallway go? Is Klaus still holding you, or…? No, that’s Elijah. It definitely smells like Elijah.

Your memory quickly returns to you in vibrant flashes of color and sound, blank spaces of lost time slowly filling in with truths that had previously been hidden from your mind’s eye. That night in the voodoo shop replays in your head, extending past the point of your original recollection, revealing that Klaus had threatened to kill Marie and her family if she spoke to you anymore just before compelling you to forget their entire conversation. He had also ensured that you didn’t fear him based on her reaction to his sudden presence, or based on the cards she had dealt you.

He was the King of Swords in reverse, and you had almost figured it out, but he made sure that you would never go any further in your pursuit for answers on the matter. Surprisingly enough though, he never had to compel you after that, his confession to you in the hospital holding at least half a truth. How much of your actions after that were a result of your genuine attraction to him versus the effects of the spell were still too difficult to decipher. Perhaps you’ll never know.

Elijah’s part in this whole plot feels less ominous, revealing that he only compelled you not to worry about your brother after the attack. You can hear him telling Austin to run home and forget that any of this ever happened, that you’d be safe going home with him. It’s surreal seeing flashes of your brother’s face go blank with immediate compliance, obeying the commands of someone he claimed to hate so passionately without an ounce of hesitation. It’s almost as surreal as watching Klaus and Elijah argue about you while you hovered over your own body for what seemed like an eternity.

Elijah’s tearful face slowly comes into focus as his grip on your waist and shoulders tightens. Once he feels you come back to life in his arms, a joyful sob gets caught in his throat as he hugs you in a desperate embrace, his heart pounding in his chest against yours. It takes everything he has to release you from his grasp, sitting you up to look at you as if you’re the most prized possession on the planet.

You stare back at him blankly, the amount of blood loss cramping your muscles and dizzying your head as you try not to mourn the spiritual journey he had ripped you from. Maybe it’s better that you came back. And at least he isn’t mad at you.

“Little Lotte, I thought I’d lost you.” Elijah grounds you in this world with kisses to your lips and forehead, almost as if to make sure that you still feel the same way against his skin as he strokes your hair.

“There now, see?” Klaus taunts from the other end of the circle, the both of you almost forgetting he’s still in there with you. “She’s right as rain. Nothing to fret over.”

“You forced her into transition.” Elijah states, glaring up at his brother before looking down at you solemnly, wiping the tears from his eyes and the blood from your freshly healed wound.

“Transition?” What is he talking about? And why is he looking at you like THAT?! You look into those charcoal eyes of his as they glisten with grief, morbidly reflecting the glowing candlelight surrounding all three of you. “What does that mean, transition?”

“It means that you died with vampire blood in your system,” he begins to explain as he holds you close. “Forcing you to turn into one of us if you choose to feed on human blood.”

I’m sorry, WHAT?

You give him a puzzled look. You can barely cope with the fact that a witch had cast this spell on all three of you, let alone that it maddened one of them enough to suck you dry until you took your very last breath. But now they’re telling you that you have to drink human blood if you want to survive, if you want to become one of them? You can’t help but stay silent as the gravity of your situation sinks in, weighing the pros and cons of your new dilemma as you enjoy being held by Elijah, quite possibly, for the very last time.

“Yes, well forgive me, but while our paramour was having some trouble choosing, I decided to give her a little boost. With both of our blood in her system…” Klaus trails off, waiting for the truth to sink in.

“Wait a minute, both?” You chime in, looking up at him as the evidence of your demise still stains his lips and chin. “But I only drank from Elijah.”

“Oh, I put a good amount of my blood in your coffee this morning, love. It was meant to protect you from any harm that may befall you, but it certainly serves this purpose just as well. This way I know that your body has already chosen a sire, already taken on the heavy burden of making the decision for you, which means…” He runs out of the circle and grabs onto the witch’s throat with a smirk, relishing in the look of sheer terror in her eyes.

“The boundary’s down.” Elijah whispers again, gathering you into his arms like he did the very first night you spent together, lifting you up as he stands to his feet.

“Exactly.” A maniacal grin tugs at Klaus’ lips before he shoves his hand inside the witch’s chest cavity, the sound of her ribs breaking so much louder than you thought it would be as it rings in your ears, painfully ricocheting off the inside of your skull.

You go to cover your ears to dull the sound, but instead choose to wrap your arms around Elijah’s neck as he whisks you out of the warehouse, putting as much distance between you and the witch as possible as her screams echo off the previously calm waters of the Mississippi River.

———————

In very little time, Elijah manages to take you past your apartment, bringing you to an estate in the middle of the French quarter, carrying you up a flight of stairs to an elaborately decorated bedroom before placing you in bed. A part of you wonders if it’s his bed that he’s laying you in, if he’ll eventually lay down next to you and stroke your hair until you fall asleep, but instead he pulls the sheets up close to your chest, noticing the blood on your clothes as it dries a dark shade of brown.

So much for that thought.

“You should be safe here. You can rest while I go and get something for you to drink.” He has the courtesy of disguising the morbid truth with his sophisticated turn of phrase as he stares at you with vacant eyes, realizing what you’d feared to be true.

You can already see his expression begin to change, feel his affection as it slips away, sense his love for you fading with each passing moment as the magic spell wears off just like the wretched witch had promised you it would. But why did it have to be him? Why did it have to happen so fast? Why did this spell, this curse have to force him into giving you hope by pursuing you, by challenging you intellectually and telling you everything you wanted to hear? Why did he have to pleasure you in ways you never thought possible all while making you feel safe, cherished and cared for? Why couldn’t you have fallen for someone normal without your whole world being upended in the aftermath?

“I chose you, Elijah.” You decide to tell him anyways, your palm finding familiarity on his cheek one last time as his jaw clenches with a pained sense of guilt.

“I know.” He takes your hand in his and squeezes it affectionately before placing it back onto your chest with a sobering look. “I’m sorry.” He turns away and looks down at his feet for a moment, then up at the ceiling, blinking a few times to stave off the recurring onset of remorse. “Perhaps it’s better this way. To lose the favor of my brother would be a much worse fate, although it wasn’t my intention for any of this to happen to you.”

A palpable silence creeps into the room, blanketing you both in the loss of what was in a thick and sickly feeling of unease until it finally becomes too much for you to bear.

“I know.” You whisper with a pained smile, your stomach churning with growing despair as hot tears stream down your face and onto the expensive silk pillow.

“Regardless, you still need to feed; but I understand if you don’t want to, considering everything you’ve been through tonight.” He expels a deep, heavy sigh, making sure not to look back at you before standing up and walking over to the door. “I’ll gather some of my sister’s clothing for you to wear while you consider your options.”

———————-

After hours of incessant sobbing and countless rounds of tossing and turning, you hear Klaus open your door without knocking, lazily leaning against the doorframe of your temporary bedroom. He flicks on the light and stands there silently, calmly watching you ignore him beneath the sheets until you finally turn and acknowledge him with a heated glare.

Is he here to hurt you again? To finish the job? To make you feel even more guilty than you already do for what happened? Like that’s even possible...

“I know I may be the last person you want to see right now, that we all needed a cool down period after what happened, especially me, but Elijah told me you aren’t drinking what he brought you.” He motions toward the full bag of blood on your bedside table, unopened and nearly coagulating by now. “You need to feed if you want to survive the day.”

“What do you care?” You roll over onto your other side, turning away from him just as quickly. “You practically killed me, anyways.”

“Killed you? Love, I saved you, I set you free! Have you not been paying attention?” He enters the room and walks over to the side of the bed that you’re facing, firmly planting himself on top of the covers next to where you lay. “I realize you may think I was a bit rash back in the warehouse, but Elijah would never have allowed me to free you from those shackles of compassion. To break the bond of the blind stewardship you feel toward your fellow man that landed you in a profession where you’re constantly belittled, degraded and discounted, wiping the filth off the arses of the ungrateful and untamed. When I drank from you, I saw it all… the rage you so beautifully depict in your paintings, the anger you choke down every time you speak to an entitled patient, the violence you keep at bay whenever a man looks at you the wrong way. It’s all there just brewing beneath the surface.” He reaches out and grazes his fingertips over your neck as you quickly pull back in fear. “I merely removed the filter that held you back.”

You push up onto your elbows, looking at him as if to determine if what he’s saying is actually true. Has the spell worn off enough to erase his urge to completely destroy you? Has it washed away the jealous rage that nearly put you into an early grave, or is this just another one of his moods, one of his personalities you’ll have to adapt to if you want to keep your head on its shoulders? “That was part of your plan?”

“You don’t live a thousand years as a vampire without learning a thing or two about death and its many loopholes.” He smirks. “This isn’t the first time a witch has tried to ensnare me and my family, but this one just so happened to make a mistake with her spell. She had counted solely on my rage to destroy you and turn my brother against me in the process, but beneath all the magic she imbued upon us, my desire to make you a vampire ultimately won out. I knew you’d drink that coffee I brought you, and after I saw you drink from Elijah so eagerly, well, it gave me free reign to make her think it was curtains for you.”

“So you killed me? Do you know how fucking scary that was?!” Is he serious?

“Oh, don’t be cross, love. The witch wanted blood, so I had to give it to her, just not in the way she expected… right before I ripped her heart out and ate it in front of her dying eyes for what she did to all three of us.”

Your own eyes widen as he describes his actions while you try your best to see things from his oddly optimistic point of view.

At least he isn’t trying to murder you anymore.

“What I’m trying to say is that I knew I wanted to turn you from the very first moment I saw you, witch’s curse or no. You have the potential to be powerful, fierce and terrible by my side if you’d only let me teach you how. You wouldn’t have to worry about trivial things like money, food or a job for the rest of your long life. I could show you the world, we could paint portraits and landscapes in every corner of the world: Paris, Tokyo, Berlin, Costa Rica, anywhere you want to go, I’ll take you there. But first you have to drink.”

He brings a mug of warm blood up to your face that you didn’t even notice he was holding this entire time, surprising you for the umpteenth time today.

“And if I do… and I turn into a vampire, I just have to deal with Elijah being here this whole time? For all eternity?” You turn your head and glance toward the door. “I don’t know if I can deal with that on a daily basis, I mean, you guys both live here, right?”

Klaus smirks. “What you feel for Elijah will pass, no matter what that decrepit old witch told you, and I could simply compel you to forget your romantic feelings for him if you’d like, make it simple. Or I could just dagger him for the first few years, keep him locked away in a box so he won’t bother you, then by the time you’ve honed all your new skills, I’ll let you pull the blade out yourself if you so choose.”

He scoots in closer as you take the mug into your hands, watching as you blow on the warm, viscous liquid before bringing it up to your mouth. That smirk of his curls into a grin as he touches the bottom of the mug with his fingers just enough to tip it toward your lips as they open enough to drink. “That’s it, just a few sips.”

You feel a building desire to do as he tells you, despite everything he’s done to you and everyone else around you tonight, almost as if you owe him something. It’s not the same as the compulsion you remember from before, but something deeply rooted in you that you can’t quite explain as the blood pours past your lips and over your tongue. His eyes hold you fast as he watches you swallow, allowing the lifesource of some other human to spill down your throat and into your stomach, bonding you to him forever.

“Good girl.” He eventually takes the mug away from you after you take a few more sips, setting it down on the bedside table with a delicacy you didn’t know he was capable of.

“How did you get me to do that? You didn’t compel me.” You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, looking up at him dumbfoundedly. “Why did I listen to you and not Elijah? He’s been trying to get me to drink for hours.”

“Well, I don’t need to compel you, love, I’m your sire. You’ll always have a desire to please me, to do as I say.” He leans forward and gently grabs hold of your chin, wiping a droplet of blood off your bottom lip that you missed, his sudden gentleness giving you emotional whiplash. “Did I fail to mention that?”

“My sire? But I thought I chose Elijah, I chose the blue door.” You recall out loud, remembering your out of body experience when you were walking the fine line between life and death. “When I was out, when I was dead and I was coming back, there was a red door and a blue door, and I walked through the blue door thinking that was going to be…”

“Elijah isn’t as virtuous as he pretends to be, I’m afraid. He’s just as cold and ruthless as I am, only he hides behind his manners and freshly ironed suits, whereas I’ve grown to embrace it.” His hand traces the outline of your jaw, his fingers feathering down your neck and shoulders as a trail of goosebumps flashes up your arm. “He wanted to keep you from this, to hold you back from what you were meant to be, but I wouldn’t allow it.” He takes your hand in his and squeezes. “Now, why don’t we get you something more fresh to sink your teeth into?”

-------------------------

@hcqwxrtss123 @hayleym1234 @derangedangel @spnaquakindgdom @natalie668 @arbesa-mind @wolfdragon0424

@meneatervv @honeybee54321 @captainweasleybarnes @spideybv28 @babyblue01805

#klaus mikaleson #elijah mikaelson #the originals #klaus mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson x reader #niklaus mikaelson #joseph morgan #daniel gillies #the vampire diaries #tvd #klaus mikaelson fanfic #elijah mikaelson fanfic #klaus mikaelson smut #elijah mikaelson smut

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buglism · 4 months ago

Note

Any chance we can get a sfw alphabet for Vere from Touchstarved?

(I like to put characters who probably aren't familiar too with non-sexual intimacy into situations where they get to experience non-sexual intimacy lol)

SFW abcs (A-C) with Vere from touchstarved!

A/N: the ABCs for both SFW and NSFT (not featured in this work) are made by me! Please credit me if you use them! Also! I love vere, I love complex characters with gray or dark morals who have their moments of humanity so much <3 this can be read as either romantic or platonic!

Feel free to request the rest of the SFW alphabet, this was just super long as is! Lmk what you think <3

Warnings: canon typical CWs apply, vere being…vere. Possibly ooc as this is my interpretation based on the two routes I’ve played so far (need to do the last one), nongendered reader, ‘friends’ to friends to possible lovers implications, platonic intimacy with implications of possible romantic feelings, but keeping with the macabre theme of the game.

A = Affection (how do they show affection/ / prefer to receive affection?)

Give:

Vere shows his affection in blunt ways, threatening you, flirts, empty promises of truth hidden under his silken tongue. We all know and have experienced Veres light switch tendencies with MC so while threatening you initially was for fun, sick thrill of the hunt, after a while you notice a change, he hopes you don’t focus on the way he gifts you long sleeve gloves that fit unsettlingly well to your cursed black flesh (of course and very in fashion) as the sun rises on your birthday, he disappears into the small crowd starting that surrounds the alley near the wet wick before you can register what’s happening, eyes tired as you resist the urge to smile, maybe being awoken so early wasn’t so bad.

Or the way your cape, which has been frayed and torn in multiple spots, truly almost strings in a certain someone’s opinion, is suddenly replaced one day after a heavy night of drinks and laughs at the wet wick, you don’t remember losing your original cape.

Thinking through the fog and hangover you remember wearing it at the bar, chatting away with someone, and then suddenly you were being guided to your room; slightly (extremely) drunk. Your brows furrow as your covered hands rub the new cape, thick outer layer feels breathable and expensive fur lines the entire inside, a heavy thick wool coat a dark gray is soft to the touch and feels warm, the hood has a fabric mask that feels like satin and covers everything from your nose down.

As you fiddle with it, lost in thought, you find clasps; the inner fur can be removed for warmer weather. Suddenly as you swear your face grew warm you remembered the smell of..something sweet and spiced.. you shake your head, pain settles into your skull and you decide it best left for another time. You don’t question as you inspect the jacket (can never truly fully trust the damn man, with how black and white he seems to be at every turn) the way he, somehow or by choice, left his initials in pink thread on the inside of the heavy fabric, either.

Receive:

he adores gifts, but of course he does, less work and hassle for him to do and who can so no to free stuff? Banter and borderline threats as well, the way your eyes went pinprick when his teeth grazed your throat sent primal shivers down his spine, the night you met.

Sex? Of course, with not much else to do what’s a guy to do? He would probably be surprised (and depending on how close you are) slightly annoyed if you refused. He wouldn’t kill you, not now at least, but it would set him on edge, if you don’t want sex and you don’t want his money what else are you after?

But something he will never admit is quality time, pebbling and loyalty really sink their claws into his (hopefully not three times too small) heart.

The way you often join him at the bar despite his insistence he hates the alcohol, but booze is booze he says and you notice how his posture slowly sinks as the nought goes on, his ears; while still alert, no longer stand like daggers listening intently. It’s not the alcohol, at least you think, that makes him seem so … human in the wet wicks dim light, when he laughs and hiccups or nearly falls off the barstool (again.)

Or how he refuses to acknowledge the way his eyes watched your figure swim through the crowd before declining to his hand, where a bag of assorted flora and fauna was held. ‘I accidentally took too much’ you said, fighting back an awkward chuckle ‘I figured out of everyone you’d enjoy having some’ your voice lingered in his brain as his ear twitches in annoyance, trying to stuff the disgusting and .. human emotions building in his chest.

Maybe you do finally acknowledge it, in a way, one night and after way too many glasses of wine and champagne you’re one of the only one willing to walk him ‘home’. if you could call the tall spire with secrets buried under mystery and danger a home to anything.

He leans into your frame, and somehow you hold as he giggles drunkenly into your ear, eyes trained on your reaction with almost feverish intent. His lips meet your skin and for a moment you feel the familiar strike of fear down your spine, he almost looks like he’s ready to strike before he sighs deeply, something strange flutters through his eyes and he settles into your side. His hair uncharacteristically a mess and the collar softly clanked in the darkening sunlight and abandoned street, he’s lost in thought as you two walk.

Just as you made it to the bridge and further from lowtown you felt his breath on your ear as he stops walking, his hands resting on your hips, turning you to face him as he leans forward and presses his forehead into your shoulder, shocked and afraid you’re stiff in his hold before you hear faintly “if you ever betray me, I’ll fucking kill you.” and before you know it he’s walking up the bridge, seeming more sober than before, almost at his usual confidant stride.

You stand there for ages it seems, deciding however it’s better to retreat into familiar territory lest a soulless find you yet again, you walk home. A strange sense of trust and something new bubbling in your chest.

Should it be fear? Or something somehow darker?

B = Best Friend (how are they around people they are close with? How would you know?)

There’s evidence vere can become close with someone, or at least was able to, given how much he seems to know about Ais in a .. . Definitely normal way. As well as a few others. You’ll know when his advice becomes less and less harsh jabs with intent to kill with harsh realities and slowly he begins dripping ways he may be able to relate to you.

Example:

You: “kauras is driving me nuts-“ (his care and lack of seeming any leeway into becoming closer than arms length are overwhelmingly frustrating sometimes)

Vere: “. . . Have you been deaf the entire time? Or are you too stupid to comprehension any of what I’ve been telling you?”

You: “why are we walking in circles?” (You’d become overwhelmed inside the crowded bar, bloodhounds being loud was enough let alone how humid the damn place got)

Vere: “25 minutes.” (As smug as can be, looking for any sort of reaction out of you)

You: “what? . . “ (confused as ever, passing the wet wick for what seems like the fourth time)

Vere, slightly annoyed: “25 minutes it took for you to notice. Besides, it smelt like dog shit, figured you wouldn’t mind some fresh air away from. . That.” (That’s all, he tells himself, however truthfully Leander was annoying him with more of his ‘drinks’ and you were the only one within arms reach that wouldn’t annoy the fuck out of him.)

C = cuddles (how are they when physically affectionate? Are they at all?)

Vere when physical intimacy is involved it’s usually to get a reaction, or gain something in return. And who can blame him? He’s been property for as long as god knows. He’s learned his skill set for a reason, and in his own words ‘ I’m very good at what I do ’

That’s all, that’s all it would ever be. But again, he hopes you don’t notice his leniency for you. You push a lot of buttons, and sometimes you push them well. But in some fittingly dark way..

As a totally yk hypothetically made up situation:

you’re at the wet wick one night, at the bar talking (being annoyed by) Ais when vere arrives, instantly vere with a confident stride heads to the bar. And let’s say some time later, and several drinking games, you’re shitfaced. But, the wet wick is slightly tamer now, the crowed settling for the evening once again. You and vere sit in a booth (having moved away from the bar at vere’s request when Leander wanted him to try a new shot called ‘the guzzler’ that had pink chunks of . . Something in it.) and the silence is enjoyable, vere is mid sip of his glass when he feels you suddenly lean into his side. At the contact he stiffens for a moment, observing you as you cuddle into him for warmth. Somehow, seeming to have lost your cape.

Something in his brain struggles for a moment, here he has the perfect opening to see what’s underneath your bandages, to figure out what the fucking fuss is about.

But another part speaks a little louder he finds, despite how tight his clenched jaw is as he chugs the rest of his wine and thinks about asking for another bottle.

As you settle against him he sighs, lifts you up slightly and encourages you to lean on him. Seeing this as an ample moment for more heat to your somehow cold body you wrap your arms around his midsection, even in this state careful not to disrupt your coverings, no longer bandages, but gloves. You sigh with a giggle as he grabs something, possibly his own jacket off the back of the booth as you leave, heading back to your loggings in the wet wick.

He doesn’t say anything, neither do you, but you notice he stands closer now, and once; when a little tipsy you leaned against him, and despite realizing and trying to move he leans into the touch.

It’s a mutual agreement then, more a challenge.

How far are you both willing to let the other go?

#touchstarved vn #touchstarved vere #touchstarved vere x reader #touchstarved headcanons #touchstarved game #touchstarved x reader

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sluttyminghao · 10 months ago

Text

imagine wonwoo slipping a blindfold over your eyes and letting his fingers drape over your skin gently, goosebumps rising in their absence. he knows how sensitive you are, and with the added aspect of taking away one of your senses, he wonders how far he can take it.

he starts off slow, his lips dragging down your bare arms and over your chest, watching as your breath hitches with each subtle touch. he lets his hands drift under your clothing, hitching it up so that he can slowly start taking it off.

wonwoo takes your shirt off first, and you can hear a soft groan of delight at the sight of your chest presented in front of him. his fingers make quick work of removing anything else in his way, until you're left stark naked in front of him, your body beginning to heat up at the thought of him just drinking in your physique.

it's only when you feel a second pair of unfamiliar hands on your body do you gasp and reach out for wonwoo, but he quickly settles you with a grip on your hand.

"just relax baby, i've invited junhui over so that he can have a play too, sound good?"

you can only whimper and nod as one pair of hands massages around your chest, whilst the others, whom you assumed to be wonwoo's, hands danced over your thighs. it's almost ticklish, but given your current situation, it's only turning you on.

"where do you want me to touch you?" junhui's smooth voice sends shivers down your spine, and you don't get the chance to respond before wonwoo interjects with a "don't ask them, they're just a filthy slut who will bend over backwards to please anyone."

the filthy words from wonwoo's tongue only had you spreading your legs open and letting him have free access to you, from which his filthy tongue now connects to your inner thigh, teasing the flesh just far enough away from where you want it.

"please..." your voice comes out as a hoarse whisper, but probably just sounds pathetic in their eyes. you can hear them both chuckle, a moment of silence ensues and you are then laid down on a cool fabric, you assumed silk.

"please what, slut?"

"please, fuck me."

#sm: masterlist 2024 #sluttyhao smut #sluttyhao scenario #seventeen smut #seventeen scenario #wonwoo smut #wonwoo scenario #junhui smut #junhui scenario

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nyx-umbrakinesis · 3 months ago

Note

MORNING SEX WITH LUCIFER PLEASE

I know it's not morning sex but it is evening sex... And I've not posted in a while... This is raw, unedited and been in my WIP file for ages lol, I kept going to but my brain just doesn't wanna obey me lately and I really wanted to get something out there so please forgive any errors I literally hate releasing unedited stuff, anyway please enjoy (there were errors as I copy and pasted over from my docs using my phone, I think I fixed the issue but lmk if there's anything else majorly wrong pls)

Lucifer x Reader

Cw: from memory so please lmk if I miss anything, p in v sex, wing kink, slight exhibitionism, appearance of slight non con to begin with, praise kink, begging, vaginal fingering...

Appletini Appetite

“Well aren’t you just ripe for the picking” the smooth voice of the King of Hell himself washes over you smoothly as he sits beside you st the bar, appletini in hand as he eyes you up and down with an appreciative hum at your attire and how it fits your form.

“Oh, hello... Sire” you blush at his boldness and watch as his eyes trail along your collarbone, darkening appreciatively and shifting closer toward you.

“Oh no need for ceremony sweetness, call me Lucifer, ha ha.”

A warm hand brushes your thigh sending shivers up your spine and you take a large gulp of your own drink to compensate, coughing, eyes stinging as you half inhale the liquid.

“You’re adorable Kitten.” The dark purr in Lucifer’s voice has you squeezing your thighs together and you lower abdomen feeling like you swallowed molten lava.

“How about we spend a little bit of time somewhere quieter, more... Secluded?” Lucifer’s hand now resting in your thigh so body you tremble, you don’t know where to look and his burning eyes are just too much of a trap as your heart races anxiously.

“A-apologies, but I’m not i-interested... S-s-si.. I mean Lucifer, I’m just having a quiet evening out alone.” Your eyes are glued to his long dark fingers as they tighten with a pinch around the meat of your thigh and you repress a whimper by biting your lip, eyes darting up betraying you as they meet his and he chuckles at the utter need in your gaze... It had been a while after all.

Lucifer chuckles softly, his hand moving higher up your thigh, brushing against the fabric of your panties now.

You gasp, gaze darting back down. Lucifer’s fingers tease the elastic material, tracing slow circles around the outline of your pussy, liquid heat utterly ruining the garment as his fingers tickle slightly and cause tingles to dance over the damp flesh. His other hand cups your face, tilting your head back so he can look into your eyes directly.

“Don’t lie to me, sweetheart. I can smell your desire radiating off of you like a blooming Flower. And trust me, I’ve experienced most forms of ‘quiet’ evenings out.”

He takes a chance, your breath catching in your throat as he leans in, pressing his lips against yours in a firm, demanding kiss. His tongue darts between your lips, exploring your mouth hungrily as his hand peels your panties aside, exposing your sopping folds to his touch and the chill in the room. You want to argue, to fight back... But fear of being seen in such a compromising state in public no less sends a thrill of fear and heat through your spine.

One deft finger dips inside you, curling and stroking, he groans, feeling your clutching humid walls trying to demand more from him, as the tighten and throb around his fingers.

He pulls back slightly, meeting your shocked gaze with a wicked grin

“Now, shall we retire to one of those private rooms back there, or would you rather we give everyone here a show?”

Your body screams for you to agree, to let him take you wherever he wants right now.

You gasp into the kiss as he presses his warm lips to yours, your body trembling under his touch.

His fingers sliding inside you send shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you in the busy bar, causing your hips to buck involuntarily against his hand.

“L-Lucifer...” You moan softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mortified.

The idea of giving everyone a show seems outrageous, terrifying even. But the thought of going somewhere private with him, where he could explore every inch of you without restraint... it sends a thrill straight to your core. But then your insecurities flood your again and you’re filled with dread.

Trying to regain some semblance of your sanity and control, you try to break the kiss and his contact with your sex, a thrum of heat running through you.

“you’re rather forward... I’m not that sort of person!”

You whimper taking his wrist and pulling it out from under your skirt, closing your legs, a needy throb running through you.

Lucifer smirks, unbothered by your attempt to push him away. In fact, he seems to enjoy the challenge.

“Let’s go talk somewhere private.” He whispers huskily and before you can protest...

He wraps his other arm around your waist, lifting you effortlessly off the stool and carrying you toward the back room. His hand finds its way back between your legs, slipping your panties completely aside before sliding two fingers into you once more. He begins to thrust slowly, relentlessly, while the other hand trails up your side, cupping your breast through your shirt. A few patron’s notice, whooping at the spectacle your face aflame as you get impossibly wetter, god why were you enjoying this?

Noticing your reactions he replies to your last statement.

“Oh, but I think you are exactly that type of person, my dear. Now stop being coy and let go. You know you want this as much as I do.”

With a growl, he opens the door to one of the private rooms and tosses you onto the bed, following close behind.

Before you can speak further, his mouth is on your neck, sucking and nipping at your pulse point while his fingers continue their relentless assault on your soaking pussy.

His free hand works at the buttons of your shirt, revealing most of your chest to his hungry gaze. He groans approvingly before taking a clothed nipple between his teeth, biting down hard enough to make you yelp and then moan in pleasure, your fingers winding in his hair.

“See? Told you you wanted it.” He says with a cocky smirk, you have to try to not break character as you almost beg him to take you, but that wasn’t the plan for tonight, tonight you’re supposed to be strangers.

You cry out, overwhelmed by the sensations he evokes within you. Each bite sends jolts of pleasure through your body, each thrust of his fingers sends waves of warmth pooling deep in your belly.

“Mmmph-“ Your protests are muffled as he captures your lips in another searing kiss, your mind swimming with lust and confusion. Your body betrays you, arching into his touch, grinding against his fingers.

“No... I mean... yes...” You stutter, unable to form coherent sentences. Your hands move to his shoulders, gripping tightly as if anchoring yourself amidst the storm of desire that threatens to consume you whole.

Your breasts ache for his touch, nipples hardening further under his ministrations. Despite your initial reluctance, you can’t deny the raw need coursing through your veins.

You whimper and moan, your body betraying your mind as Lucifer’s fingers plunge deeper within you, stretching your cunt deliciously. His mouth on your skin, sucking and biting, causes a rush of pleasure that leaves you writhing beneath him.

“Fuck...” You groan, unable to suppress the moans that slip past your lips. Your hands grip his hair tightly, guiding his movements as you grind against his hand.

Your shirt falls further open, exposing your chest further to his hungry gaze. The sensation of his teeth biting down on your nipple again sends jolts of pleasure shooting straight to your soaked pussy, making you writhe uncontrollably underneath him crying out, back arching at the sting.

“No... I mean... We’re just getting to know each other...” You stutter out, but your words come out as nothing more than desperate pleas for more. Remembering your part.

Lucifer chuckles darkly, pleased with your surrender. He continues to torment your sensitive nipples, alternating between bites and licks until you’re moaning unintelligibly.

“We’ll get to know each other better then, won’t we?”

He growls before ripping your shirt off completely, his claw slicing your bra down the middle with ease making you gulp, chills run up your spine as he finishes exposing your tits to his greedy eyes.

His hand leaves your aching pussy momentarily, making you whine, to cup one breast, thumb teasing your hardened nipple while his tongue lazily traces a path down your collarbone, stopping to flick across your other exposed nipple.

His other hand gathers yours pinning them firmly above your head, you moan as it makes your back arch, pressing your tits in his face.

His fingers slide back into you, this time adding a third digit as he starts to pump you faster, harder.

“Such a tight little cunt you have, kitten. So ready for me.” He growls nipping at the skin making you gasp, helplessly writing in his grip, goosebumps litter your skin from the attention and exposure.

“I want to fuck you so bad.”

His voice is rough...

“Do you want that, huh? To be filled by the devil himself?”

Your body quakes beneath him, a mess of need and desire. You moan out loudly as he teases your nipples, his tongue and teeth driving you insane.

“Yes... oh gods, yes...”

The word slips out before you can stop it, your rational mind lost to the pleasure he’s inflicting upon you.

“I mean... I don’t know... I-I shouldn’t...”

But even as you try to resist, your hips buck against his hand, begging for more. You can feel yourself getting closer, your walls clenching tightly around his fingers, your juices coating his hand.

“Please... stop... I can’t...”

Your voice breaks.

His tongue flicks your nipple again, biting down harder and a pinch to your clit, drawing a sharp cry from your lips your pussy throbbing you’re almost rutting his hand not, trying to make him dig in deeper, faster, anything!

You squirm underneath him, trying to escape his hold, his hand strong around your wrists, so it only serves to rub your sensitive nipple against his rough tongue and teeth more.

“Yes... Gods, yes... Fuck me... Please!” You break.

The words slip out before you can censor them, your body betraying your mind once more. Your pussy clenches around his fingers, eagerly, begging for more.

“Please... just... Please, oh fuck... Slow down please.”

You manage to choke out, but the pleading in your voice contradicts your actions, your hips rocking against his hand in time with his thrusts, it’s too much for you, your head thrashing side to side, denial of the rushing intensity coiling and burning inside you, your pussy quivering and weeping as you squeeze your eyes tightly shut.

“Good girl.”

“Ready for your punishment, kitten?” He asks, his voice low and husky, his eyes gleaming with lust and satisfaction.

Lucifer’s smile grows wider as he watches you succumb to the pleasure he’s providing. His fingers continue their relentless pace, feeling you getting closer to orgasm, tilting his hand and fingers, pressing a spot inside you that makes you see stars, instantly blinding you with hot white heat, his thumb running your puffy clit.

“That’s it, kitten,” he growls, his own desire evident in his voice. “Give in to the pleasure. Let yourself cum for me.”

As if on command, your body peaks, convulsing as a powerful orgasm washing over you. Your pussy clamps down on his fingers, sending waves of intense pleasure through both of you. You cry out, your voice echoing in the small room, your body writhing under his touch, squirt gushing out in powerful spurts covering his hand and arms as you cry out, losing control.

As your orgasm subsides, Lucifer slowly withdraws his fingers from your still twitching pussy, a slick, audible sound filling the room. He looks at you with a satisfied smirk, before leaning down to lick the taste of you from his fingers.

“Mmm,” he murmurs, cock twitching in his trousers painfully, his eyes locked on yours. “But you know that was just the beginning, kitten?”

You numbly realise he’d released your wrists.

He starts peeling his clothes off methodically.

You wasting no time clumsily fumble out of your skirt and panties, kicking your shoes off in the process, stockings and garter remaining, the feel of the fabric digging into your thighs, yet his hungry eyes drinking in your exposed cunt almost makes you cum again.

You nod weakly, still recovering from the intense orgasm he’d given you. Your heart races, adrenaline and anticipation coursing through your veins.

As Lucifer undresses, you can’t help but admire the sight of him. His lean, strong frame, his cock standing tall and thick, absolutely dripping for you, the red in his eyes almost glowing. He exudes power and dominance, making you feel small and vulnerable in comparison, this is the Lucifer that made all those panties drop in the past.

You lay there, exposed and wanting, your body aching for him to fill you. As he moves closer, you spread your legs wider, inviting him in.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart, stretching out further, trying to entice him faster.

Lucifer’s smile widens, his eyes gleaming with untold need and satisfaction at state of you, and your plea, slick coating your inner thighs, even as far as your stockings.

He almost throws caution to the wind wanting nothing more than to dive on there lapping at you, cleaning you up, making you cum on his tongue again and again until you beg him to stop, his cock twitches needily and angrily at his thoughts.

But fuck does he want your pleasure

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” He asks, his voice low and husky, his eyes locked on yours, wrapping his hand around his cock, pumping it, unable to stop his horns from pushing upwards with a groan they feel like their own release.

You nod, your breath catching in your throat, dazzled by the fallen king.

Lucifer chuckles, his eyes gleaming with amusement and desire as he takes in your eagerness. He steps closer, his erection pressing against your thigh as he reaches out to caress your cheek, his thumb tracing your lower lip.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “All flushed and trembling because of me.”

He leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, tender kiss. It’s a stark contrast to the rough, demanding way he’d claimed your mouth earlier, and it catches you off guard, making you melt into the embrace.

As the kiss deepens, his tongue exploring your mouth, his hand moves down to cradle your breast, his thumb idly stroking your nipple, soothing that sore flesh.

You moan softly, your body responding instinctively to his touch, tongue returning his affections languidly, drunk from your high.

Finally, he breaks the kiss, his breath hot against your lips as he looks into your eyes, you know this is your husband checking in on you. “Are you ready for me now, kitten?”

You nod eagerly, your heart racing with anticipation. Lucifer smiles, his expression a mix of satisfaction and hunger.

Without another word, Lucifer grabs your legs and drags you to the edge of the bed, slotting himself between your thighs whilst standing, his tongue flicking out, unable to resist dragging it down on thigh, moaning as he laps up your juices greedily.

With a satisfied smile, licking his lips lewdly, Lucifer positions himself at your entrance, his cock pulsing with anticipation. He places a hand on your hip, pulling you towards him slightly, adjusting your angle and spreading you wide as he aligns himself with your wet opening.

Rubbing his cock up and down through your labia, teasing the sensitive flesh, smearing his precum into your cunt as you jolt from the sensations feeling overstimulated everytime he hits your clit, with a spasm and a whine.

With a grin at your debauched inarticulate state he lines up his cock and he begins to push inside you, you feel a sense of fullness that has you trying to cling to the sheets for deer life, eyes shut as you try to take him, even after all this time it’s such a squeeze.

His size is incredible, stretching you wide as he fills you completely, causing you to gasp and moan as it burns and your cunt flutters and pulses around him, slick and slippery as it is.

Lucifer’s eyes lock onto yours, watching your reaction intently as he continues to penetrate you deeply, his movements slow and measured, allowing you to adjust to his size.

“Relax, kitten,” he whispers, his voice soothing and comforting. “Breathe through it. You can take all of me, I know you can.”

You can’t respond, head thrashing in denial, forgetting your not supposed to know him you have no script to follow anyway.

As he bottoms out inside you, you let out a final gasping whine, your body tensing as you accommodate him fully. He leans in, his forehead resting against yours as he takes a few moments to savour the connection between you, his breath hot against your face.

“You feel amazing,” he murmurs, his voice filled with awe and wonder. “So tight and warm around my cock, and fuck your so damn drenched for me, I could fall in love with you just from this."

A moment of confusion before you remember your part again, his cock embedded in you, his forearms supporting your thighs, spread for the king, exposed, defenceless, chest heaving as you struggle for sanity.

You nod weakly, still struggling to regain your composure. The fullness of him inside you is overwhelming, the sensation of his cock stretching you wide is almost too much to handle. But despite the discomfort, there’s an underlying pleasure that’s starting to build, a pleasure that’s only possible with him.

“Y-yes,” you stammer, your voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breaths, and you remember this is supposed to be new... “I’m okay... I can do this...”

Lucifer smiles, his eyes gleaming with pride and satisfaction. He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before pulling back, his hands moving to grip your hips firmly.

“That’s my good kitten,” he praises, his voice low and husky. “Now let’s see how well you can take me.”

With that, he begins to move, his hips rolling forward as he pulls out slowly, the head of his cock teasing your entrance before he thrusts sharply back inside you, eliciting a cry of pleasure from your lips as he shapes your cunt to his cock with every thrust.

The rhythm is slow and steady at first, but as the pleasure builds, so does the speed and intensity of his thrusts.

“You okay, pet?” Lucifer check in concern as you seem to only be able to clutch at the sheets, body tense as you moan, eyes closed tightly.

He feels bigger than usual, you even miss you favourite part, his wings had come out to play and you missed it

You nod weakly, still trying to adjust to the overwhelming sensation of him.

He smiles, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction and desire. “Good girl,” he praises, “look at me please pet.”

With effort you open your eyes and your cunt clamps like a vice as you gasp in awe at him, his horns and wings in all their glory.

Each thrust sends extra waves of pleasure rippling through your body, making you moan and writhe beneath him, eyes fixed to his shivering wings as they flutter in time with your pussy.

As he picks up speed again, and it takes everything in you not to fling your head back again, your moans grow louder and more desperate, your hands clutching at the his forearms, nails digging in as you fight to maintain some semblance of control.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Lucifer growls, his eyes locked on yours as he continues to drive into you. “I can’t get enough of you, kitten, fucking addictive, that’s what you are.”

His words send a surge of pride and desire through you, making you arch your back and press your breasts against his chest. Your nipples are hard and sensitive, rubbing against him with each movement.

As he continues to work away at you, skin slapping skin, balls striking your arse, the coil winds, burning deep within you again, threatening to consume you whole. You whimper and plead, your body writhing under his relentless assault.

“P-please... Lucifer... I’m close...” you gasp, your voice strained and desperate.

He leans in, his breath hot against your ear as he speaks, “Go ahead, kitten. Let go. Show me how much you enjoy being fucked by your King.”

Lucifer’s smile grows wider as he watches you lose control, his own pleasure mounting with each passing second. He leans in, his lips pressed against your ear as he whispers sweet nothings to you, designed to push you over the edge.

“You’re mine, kitten,” he growls possessively. “My perfect little pet. You were made for this, for me, fuck you feel so good, clutching desperately around my cock, it’s like you never want it to leave, and believe me sweetheart, you’ll be feeling it for a very long time, so... Fucking... Tight... So... Fucking... Perfect... Pretty... Little... Cunt...”

His words send a shockwave of pleasure through your body, making you moan louder, your pussy clamping down on his cock as the orgasm crashes over you.

“Oh... Oh... Fuck! Lucifer!” Your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure wash over you, cunt spasming, gripping him so tight he can’t move, his hands stroking your shaking thighs as your body is wracked with waves you pleasure, your squirt hitting his pelvis again and again as you drench him, the sensation making him moan.

Lucifer’s own climax is close now, he can feel it building, your pussy releases enough of it’s grip as you slip and he has to cling to your thighs to keep you from slipping from his grip as he fucks into your limp body.

The pressure mounting with each thrust. He leans over you, cock sliding in deeper causing you to twitch and gasp for breath, he reaches behind your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling it with forceful control, tilting your head back, forcing you to look at him as he comes.

“Look at me, kitten,” he commands, his voice low and guttural. “Watch me as I claim you.”

Your eyes fly open, meeting his gaze as he continues to thrust into you relentlessly. The intensity of his eyes, the dominance and possession in them, sends a shiver down your spine and increases your pleasure tenfold.

As you watch him, you can see the signs of his impending climax – the strain in his face, the sweat on his brow, the rapid rise and fall of his chest. And knowing that you’re the one bringing him to this peak of pleasure fills you with a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment, admiring his wings once more, every thrust a shockwave down your spine.

“Yes... yes... Lucifer... I’m here... I’m yours...” you whisper, your voice barely audible above the sound of your combined breaths and moans.

With one final, powerful thrust, Lucifer buries himself deep inside you, his cock throbbing as he reaches his peak. His eyes lock onto yours, holding your gaze as he lets out a deep, primal growl of satisfaction, his entire body shuddering with the force of his orgasm.

Hot jets of cum spurt from his cock, filling you completely as he claims you as his own. You can feel each pulse, each twitch of his cock as he empties himself inside you, his cock throbbing and twitching as he reaches his peak. His eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze matching the ferocity of his orgasm.

“Fuck!” He cries out, his voice echoing throughout the room. “You’re mine. Every single inch of you belongs to me.”

His grip on your hair tightens, holding you in place as he rides out the waves of his orgasm, his hips jerking sporadically as he pumps every last drop of his seed into your willing body.

You can feel his hot cum filling you up, overflowing and trickling down your thighs, the sensation making you moan and shudder beneath him. His grip on your hair loosens, and he leans down to capture your lips in a fierce, passionate kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as his cock continues to throb inside you.

Finally, he pulls back, breaking the kiss and releasing your hair. He looks down at you, his eyes softening as he takes in the sight of you, flushed and panting beneath him, his cum leaking out of your well-fucked cunt.

“You’re incredible, kitten,” Lucifer pants, his voice filled with genuine affection and admiration. “Absolutely incredible.”

Finally, spent and sated, he releases his grip on your hair, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. His cock softening inside you, but remains buried deep within you, a tangible reminder of his claim over you.

“You did so well, kitten,” he murmurs, his voice filled with warmth and affection. “I couldn’t have asked for a better partner tonight, or any other night.”

Withdrawing slowly, you groan at the feel of him slipping out of you, he kneels between your legs, his eyes roaming over your naked form appreciatively. His hands trace lazy patterns over your skin, fingers dipping into your cum-filled cunt, admiring his seed inside you, making you squirm and whimper sensation.

“I think you deserve a reward for being such a good girl,” he purrs, his voice low and seductive.

Without warning, he dives between your legs, his tongue lapping at your sensitive flesh, licking up every drop of his cum that’s leaking out of you. His fingers continue to play with your pussy, teasing your swollen clit as he cleans you up with his mouth.

You moan and writhe beneath him, your body still oversensitive from your previous orgasms. But Lucifer doesn’t relent, his skilled tongue working tirelessly to bring you to the brink of ecstasy once again, arms locking around your thighs, holding you in place.

Just when you think you can’t take anymore, he pulls back, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he gazes down at your flushed, panting form.

You arch you back invitingly, smirk on his face as he plays with your garter straps and decides to tease you, and play dumb.

“What’s wrong, kitten?” He asks innocently, fingers lightly tracing the edges of your garter belt, a devilish twinkle in his eye. “Did you want something else?”

He knows exactly what he’s doing, the bastard. He’s toying with you, teasing you mercilessly, loving every second of it.

“Or maybe... you're not done yet?" He muses, his fingers dancing dangerously close to your aching clit, making you squirm and gasp, your body instinctively seeking out his touch.

"Please... Lucifer..." you beg, your voice hoarse and needy. "Don't stop... I need... You."

He chuckles, his eyes gleaming with amusement and desire. "Well, since you asked so nicely..."

With that, he dives back in, his tongue circling your clit as his fingers plunge into your soaked pussy, curling and hitting that sweet spot inside you, using every trick he knows to bring you to a rapid peak so as not to pain you with too much overstimulation, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, over and over again as he brings you to the edge once more, licking sloppily at your cunt, diving his tongue in to taste more of your combined fluids.

You nod frantically, your body already tensing in anticipation. “Yes, oh fuck, yes yes yes yes yes yes.”

Lucifer grins, clearly pleased with your response. “As you wish, kitten.”

With renewed vigour, he attacks your clit, his tongue flicking and swirling over the sensitive bundle of nerves. At the same time, his fingers continue their relentless assault on your g-spot, each stroke bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

You can feel the familiar tension building deep within your core, your muscles coiling tightly as you brace yourself for the inevitable explosion. Your hands find their way into his horns, gripping tightly as you grind your pussy against his face, humping him shamelessly, lost in a sea of pleasure.

“Lucifer... I’m gonna... I’m gonna cum...” you warn, your voice breaking.

In response, he doubles down on his efforts, his fingers pumping faster, his tongue lashing against your clit with increased fervour, sucking on it with just the right amount of pressure. The combination of sensations is too much to bear, and with a final cry of his name and a thrust of his fingers, you tumble over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave.

Your body convulses, your back arching off the bed as wave after wave of pleasure courses through you, walks clamping and pulsing around his fingers as your pussy erupts but this time he swiftly withdraws his fingers.

His mouth sealing around your hole, tongue diving in as he devours your offering, a sacrifice to the devil, one he covets, gluttony wasn’t his sin before but as his cock throbs as he drinks you down, it might just be now.

As your orgasm subsides, Lucifer finally lifts his head from between your legs, a triumphant grin on his face as he gazes down at you, his chin and lips glistening with your juices. He crawls up the bed, carrying you with him from the edge and placing you down gently.

Settling himself beside you, his arm draped possessively over your waist as he pulls you close, wrapping his wings back down, pulling you against his chest.

“You did so well, kitten,” he murmurs, his voice filled with warmth and affection. “I’m proud of you.”

You snuggle back against him, your body still humming with the aftershocks of your orgasms. His closeness is comforting, his presence a reassuring weight under you.

For a few moments, the two of you lie there in silence, basking in the afterglow of your shared experience. The room is filled with the scent of sex and the sound of your combined breathing, gradually slowing down as you both begin to relax.

Eventually, Lucifer breaks the silence, his voice soft and gentle in the quiet room. “How are you feeling, pet?”

You turn your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his in the dim light. Despite the intensity of your encounter, you can’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment and satisfaction, your body thoroughly ravished.

You smile weakly, still trying to catch your breath. “I feel... amazing,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Exhausted, but amazing.”

Lucifer chuckles, his hand coming up to stroke your hair gently. “That’s my girl,” he says, his voice filled with pride and affection. “Get some rest, kitten. You’ve earned it.”

You nod, snuggling closer to him, your eyelids growing heavy as the exhaustion sets in. His arm tightens around you, holding you close, safe and secure in the arms of the Devil himself.

As your eyes slip closed, you can hear Lucifer’s soft, steady heartbeat in your ear, a comforting rhythm that lulls you into a deep, peaceful sleep. And as the world fades away around you, the last thought that crosses your mind is a simple one:

With that, he reaches over to pull the covers up over the two of you, cocooning you in a warm, safe bubble. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as you drift off to sleep, the steady beat of his heart a comforting lullaby in your ear.

As sleep claims you, you whisper.

“I love you, thank you Luci.”

As the whole idea of going to this bar and pretending to meet for the first time as though your weren’t married was your idea.

Lucifer smiles, his eyes softening as he listens to your sleepy confession. He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening protectively around you.

“I love you too, kitten,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible in the quiet room. “Always have, always will.”

With that, he settles down beside you, closing his eyes and letting out a contented sigh. The room is silent except for the soft rustle of the sheets and the occasional crackle from the fireplace.

As the hours pass, Lucifer remains awake, watching over you as you sleep peacefully in his arms. His mind wanders back to the events of the evening, replaying each moment, each touch, each kiss. He can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction and contentment, knowing that he’s managed to bring you such immense pleasure.

After a while, he finally allows himself to drift off to sleep, his dreams filled with images of you, your laughter echoing in his ears, your smile lighting up his world. And as he falls into a deep, peaceful slumber, he knows without a doubt that he’s the luckiest man in the universe.

Because he has you. His kitten, his pet, his everything. And he wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world.

He’s made his home yours, and in turn you made it his.

After all, home is where the heart is, and your heart belongs to Lucifer.

And his heart belongs to you.

(as usual sorry I nearly forgot to add the taglist)

Nyx's Nymphs!

@ustulia @redvexillum @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorthirsty @6esiree

#hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #lucifer hazbin smut #lucifer hazbin #hazbin lucifer #lucifer hazbin x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer smut #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer x reader #hazbin lucifer x y/n #hazbin lucifer x you #lucifer hazbin x you #lucifer hazbin x y/n #lucifer hazbin x reader smut #hazbin lucifer x you smut #hazbin hotel lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader

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bitchlessdino · 3 months ago

Text

repeat rebound (m) Ch.6: Repeating Insecurities (18+)

Chapter list Pairing: Fem!reader x fwb!soonyoung (smut ft.wonwoo) Genre: Crack, smut, fluff (18+) word count: 3.4k tags: mentions of kids, mentions of gambling addiction, mentions of food, messy!reader, richboy!mingyu, dilf!wonwoo, cunniligus, soft dom!wonwoo, yearning!wonwoo, face riding Summary: The best way to get over someone is to get under someone. Again and again and again author note: hi guys, shes back but at what cost

tag list @nikkell @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @darthlunaa @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan

There isn’t much you know about Wonwoo, but in the short time you’ve reconnected with him, you’ve managed to learn a lot. For one, he likes energy drinks like no one you’ve ever met before as he stockpiled Monster energy by the 12 pack. Two, he doesn't seem like it, but the slightest nudge at his ego will show on his face. Whether it’s the subtle down turn of his smile or a crease of his brow, he displays his emotions on his face just like anyone else.

And three, he’s a damn, damn good kisser.

Wonwoo’s lips, slotted between yours, moves fervently as if chasing something just out of reach, bewitchingly sweet. Meanwhile, his hands hold you with a rough and eager grapple, unable to keep them off of you when you feel absolutely electrifying, the thrum of your pulse buzzing under his fingertips. He then pushes you inside your apartment, a growl stuck in his throat, pushing the door close behind him.

Your heavy lidded gaze finds his narrowing at you intensely, visibly intoxicated, as he inhales every ounce of oxygen left in you in a ravenous lip lock. He presses you against the edge of the entrance hallway table and the oak digs against your backside. As it embeds in your flesh, you feel it strike you in pain, sounding out in soft wordless groans.

Luckily for you, Wonwoo knows when to take action. Swiftly, he lifts you from the ground to have you loom over him as your tush lands on the table, letting your legs border either side of him. His eyes flutter open when he breaks the kiss, hands clasped against your face, and his thumb gliding over the swell of your bottom lip.

“Have you right where I want you,” he says in hushed tones.

You tug him by his hips, tongue clicking against the roof of your mouth in intrigue, wondering what more it is that he’s been wanting. “Well, don’t stop now. I might just run away again,” you tease.

He lightly scoffs, pushing pressure against your lips, finding that your head hits the wall mirror behind you. “Why do you think I brought you to your place then?”

He elicits a moan from you as his clothed groin brushes against your arousal—then comes grinding, addictive as the size of bulge presses against your core, and you clench at the mere thought of him inside you. Your fingers run up to find tufts of his hair, legs coming around his torso, and matching his rhythm as you lock him closer against you.

”I don’t know, maybe to give you a chance to swipe a souvenir?” You flirtatiously accuse.

Wonwoo’s eyebrows meet down the middle, lips parted in offense. ”Are you referring to me stealing something from you?”

”Maybe not a mug or a lamp,” You shrug innocently enough, “but maybe a pair of dirty panties.”

Smirking, Wonwoo’s gaze briefly flickers down south before his smile sweeps over your jaw and trails your neck, his incisors scraping against your skin. “Now you’re just giving me good ideas.”

“Well, I’m full of them” you whisper, lips kissing the tip on his ear, “But I'd rather be full with something else.”

His groans vibrate against your collarbone as you palm over his raging hard over his pants. He starts cascading his kisses as he gropes the underside of your breasts in his greedy hands. “Trust me, that’s my plan.”

In a blink of an eye, the buttons of your shirt scatter across all floors like marbles, spinning out of control in chaotic spirals as they disappear into the darkest corners of your apartment, perhaps to never be seen again—or worse, swept away by Mr. Roomba. You loudly gasp, eyes pointed directly at the perpetrator who’s hands tease the hems of your shirt with an apologetic smile. “Wonwoo!”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he quickly quips before his smile descends down your bare torso, wet and hot kisses following his path.

You have no fight left to argue when you realize it’s easy to become clay in his hands. His wet clay that just gushes effortlessly between his fingers, while his knuckles work kneading your malleable body to fit his very desired mold. Meanwhile, his moans bounce off the wall deliciously, his breathing staggering before he mouths over your bra, finding the rigid peaks through the fabric and tracing over them with his tongue, and you whine from frustration.

“You’re gonna bring me back home just to tease me?” You dramatically cry.

“Maybe, I should, if that means I get to have you longer to myself,” he points out, cupping around the curved shape and thumbing through the space between the barrier and flesh underneath, sending a tantalizing chill running down your spine.

”We’re going to neighbors,” you pout, “Time won’t be much of an issue with us.”

His hands glide around your bust, fingers fiddling to find the bra’s hooks. “Promise?”

”Promise,” you recklessly assure in a single breath.

And like that, your breasts are falling out of the confines of your undergarment before Wonwoo tosses it and your shirt aside to take a drag of your savor, finding its beguiling aroma only growing stronger the longer he allows himself to indulge. He tugs at you by your hips, your molten heat mere inches from his but still worlds away with a wall of jeans and thoroughly ruined panties.

Wonwoo moves on to the top button of your pants, gaze flickering up back at you impishly as he undoes them and slides down your thighs, caressing the skin he exposes from your ankles and up, following a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Leading to your inner thighs, he breathes in the heady cocktail that he could only describe as something that would’ve caused the Trojan war, or lead to rehabilitation from withdrawals.

“…fuck,” He barely manages to mutter, before ducking down, vanishing from view and causing a sensation on your core that knocks the wind out of your lungs.

Your jaw falls slack, breath hitched in your throat, and you brace from impact by the edge of the table as your hips are possessed by his mouth. Meanwhile, Wonwoo—showing how he's both disciplined yet unhinged—works through the wetness soaked through your panties, sucking every bit of your arousal like it was sauce off a napkin, and then wrapping his lips around your core to engorge himself on a feast long overdue. His hands, large and coarse, cosset your breasts, thumb and index plying with your stiffness between before pinching, and earning whistles of a whine.

”Wonwoo…” You reach down for his face, lifting it up just slightly to bring him into view and instantly see the remnant you leave behind smudging his glasses as he’s latched onto you still. “You got your glasses dirty,” You mention weakly, fingers extending out to pry them off before he halts you by the wrist.

He holds your tender watch, eyes glistening awe behind his defiled frames, and guides your hand on his crown, burying him deeper, the metal rims pressing against your swollen clit. You give out a groan, doubling over as his tongue pierces your folds, slipping aside the scantily shaped piece of fabric and stroking generous stripes down your soaking lips, coating his mouth and cheeks just the same.

You could speak in only shattered breaths, mustering the courage to use Wonwoo’s helping hand and find your grip, leveraging it to ride his face. His groans echoes inside you, buzzing against your fluttering walls as he bobs in your aching cunt. He starts grunting in excitement as he eats you, enthusiastically even, the most you’ve even seen from him—then again this is the most enthusiasm you’ve ever seen from Wonwoo in general.

“Shit, shit, shit. You’re gonna make me explode on your face!” You grit as sweat beads down your neck.

And yet, he doesn’t stop. In fact, he goes harder, collecting your thighs in his biceps and hooking them to clench around his face, so absorbed in your pussy and what treasures await him inside that nothing else matters.

He is suffocating himself between your legs—willing, may you add—and his world is quite literally fading to black. And although he looks so goddamn pathetic—and is frankly so demeaning and pathetic, it’s hot. It’s sexy. And oh, fucking days could ride this train all the way to hell if you had that ticket.

“Wonwoo…god…you—“ you tightly hold on him, a loud agonizing groan leaving your body as your pupils fall behind your skull. Your hips trembling out of control, you unleash the build up that comes alive in his mouth, coating every crevice in your viscous, salty ambrosia. You leave him with the taste of you that would last hours, maybe days, not that he minded.

As your shaking begins to falter, the kisses he leaves on your pulse beating out of your legs ascend up your body, following up your stomach and gently caressing your waist. They eventually land on your breasts in soft sighs, finding themselves in his mouth, the symphony of moans escaping him once again. His arms come around to embrace you, seizing your sides by his hands in a firm grip.

You’re too tired to speak at this point and just observe, watching as he touches you fondly, wordlessly doting on you with utter tenderness that you aren’t even bothered by the silence.

He finally comes up for breath spreading a wide and exhausted smile across his face, glasses smudged beyond repair of any wet lens wipe and you let out a chuckle. You steal them from his face and reaching for your shirt once fallen to the ground and run its fabric on the lens, seeing it do absolutely nothing for the clarity. “You’re so messy,” you softly nag.

He gently takes them away from you, stuffing them in his pocket before reconnecting your lips, sharing what’s left of you. “I gotta go.”

He picks up after himself, plucking your jeans and bra from the ground and folding them neatly to be put aside. Meanwhile, you just stare at him, speechless for an entirely different reason. “Whu—what do you mean you have to go? You just got here,” you pull him closer towards, your breasts pressing against his firm chest through his tee-shirt. “What about you?”

He grins, cupping your cheek. “I got so distracted about taking you home…I forgot the baby monitor, and if I come in and out so often I might wake her up with the noise. I’m sorry.”

You groan, your head falling on his shoulder. “That is so incredibly considerate of you, you’re a good dad. God, fuck. That’s hot.”

“Hey,” He lifts his chin to meet your gaze, “Time’s on our side right? It isn’t an issue for us?”

”Yeah, yeah, yeah. Prepared to be jumped the next time Winnie is napping.”

He laughs at your honesty and reels you in for another devastating kiss before having to leave. You see him out, clutching your top close for dear life and staying hidden behind your front door as he enters the neighboring one. There’s a soft “Bye,” that leaves his lips, and soon enough the ghost of his presence haunts not only your front door hallway but your body that craved more than one measly orgasm.

“I’m getting the worst Deja vu right now,” you whisper ironically to yourself as you close the door behind you, recalling another moment you received head with dick on layaway. “I hate men.” You sigh.

Tired to do anything else, you take your well-deserved shower and head off for bed. But something decides to keep you up at night, something that makes you toss and turn, lying awake whether you're going crazy or not. Like you’re up wondering how things would’ve gone if he hadn’t forgotten the life line between him and his daughter. Or if it hadn’t happened at all.

Or if had he done that on purpose?

Get you all hot and bothered, eat his cake, and then leave when you’re ready for more. Giving you a taste of your own medicine like how you handled him the last time you were together intimately. His two birds and one stone.

You immediately reach for your phone, instinctively pulling up a contact that's always the first to come to mind when it’s to rant about these sorts of things, but stopping before you could type out a message or send a call. Jeonghan’s profile image taunts you, reminding you’re supposed to be…disappointed that he’s keeping things from you.

But he’s your best friend. The first person you think to talk to when it’s superficial and reckless behavioral things like this. Surely, you can get over this hump.

You check the time to see it at about 11pm at night before deciding to call, nail to teeth about him picking up as you lay slump in bed, hearing only the dial tone on the other end. It rings steadily, and you take a breath with each beat, telling yourself after the fifth, you’d hang up.

”Hello?”

You sit up against the bed frame, moving too excitedly at the sound of his voice. “Hey.”

”Hey.” He responds softly. “You okay? It’s a pretty late time to call.”

”Yeah, I know. I…I wanted to check in on you.”

”Yeah?” He teases, a smile heard loud and clear.

You roll your eyes, hugging a pillow nearby to your chest. “Something like that…Is what I heard today what I thought it was?”

He sighs, and movement could be heard in the background of his call. “What do you think it was that you heard this morning?”

”That…” You lick your lips anxiously, the words having a hard time breaking free from their cage. “The machines. The buttons. The bells. Jeonghan, were you gambling?”

He sighs again, and you manage to make out the squeaking of a bed. Before he could calmly say your name, following up with some excuse you know you’ve heard before, you interrupt. “Don’t you start.”

”It’s not that serious. Just a couple of slot machines.”

”Jeonghan. No,” You warn.

He groans before you hear a snap and a quiet hiss, following the familiar sound of crackle. “It’s not that deep,” He replies, and by his mumble you could immediately tell there’s already a cigarette between his lips.

”What happened to all the progress we made? Everything we worked hard for you to break this habit and keep you out of debt?” You remind him.

”I was one time. The trip had worn me out and right nearby had a place, I—“ He takes a drag, exhaling deeply. “I just have been going through things, okay?”

”Why couldn’t you have told me that? I’m your best friend.”

He takes a beat for however long for whatever for. That’s what you hate about phone calls. You can’t see what’s happening on the other end and the face of the person you’re talking to. But this is Jeonghan. If you are going to be patient for anyone, it’s going to be him. ”…I know. I know. You’ve done a lot for me, sweetheart—“

“Then why are you shutting me out? Why aren’t you answering my calls?”

“I swear I’m not.”

”Then what is it?”

“I don’t want to argue over phone—“

”Oh, you want me to hang up?”

“No, I just want to meet you in person. Let’s do that, hmm?”

You swallow a lump in your throat, suddenly anxious at the thought of seeing him again after a while and unsure why. “When?”

”Soon. Sometime soon,” he reassures.

”Okay,” you relent easily, despite being the instigator.

“Okay?”

”Okay.”

He let out a satisfied hum, “Is that all you wanted to talk about?”

Your brain suddenly teeters back to the thought of your original intent, your reservations of your reconnection Wonwoo. That had been an afterthought the second you heard your best friend's voice, the voice the source of all your joy or all your rage. You ponder just a moment longer before deciding against bringing it up, thinking perhaps there’stime and place for everything.

“That’s it, but…”

”But?”

”I miss you.” You answer sincerely.

His chuckles are like a warm bowl of soup on a cold evening, simply comforting and never unwelcome. “You’ll see me soon. Get some rest, okay?”

“Okay.”

If anyone could calm you down, it was Jeonghan. If anyone could silence you, If anyone held power over you, it was Jeonghan.

Here you are, having had phone sex with one guy in the middle of his work day and almost-sex maybe not even half an hour ago with someone else entirely. Yet, right now all you can think and worry about is Jeonghan.

Jeonghan this. Jeonghan that.

You push a pillow into your face, letting out your screams, all the spiraling thoughts of what’s happened to you in the past several weeks—which was admittedly more than you ever had to handle—before finally letting your mind sleep. Tomorrow would be a new day. A fresh start. With no worries.

And boy, did tomorrow like to throw more curve balls.

“Mingyu, No.”

“It’s not even for me!” He defend, a childish whine in his tone.

You shake your head at the man’s words over the phone, “No, do you not understand the words coming from my mouth? No.”

“He just needs a pretty little eye candy on his arm for an hour. Max.”

”Then you do it.”

“Hmm, flattered because I knew you always thought I was pretty and never said anything, but this is serious. My guy needs the hook up!” He pleads, as if he’d die without your help.

You stab your scrambled eggs and imagine them as Mingyu’s head, annoyed that whenever he needs a favor he comes to you with a sack full of cartoon money and at yourself for even thinking about considering taking th deal.

“Just because I played one fake girlfriend for you doesn't mean I’ll do it for anyone. I know you and you have money and I was desperate.”

You hear his clap over the phone, assuming he must hav you over speaker. ”Ah! Money. How could I forget? Ten thousand.”

You inched the space between your brows, hissing. ”Kim Mingyu, you spoiled fucking bitc—“

”Eleven, twelve, thirteen—“

”Shut the actual fuck up!’ You shout at your phone like a mad person, “Why is this so important? Who is this guy?”

”I told my friend. Now it’s not any time soon but—“

And you hang up, not wanting to waste the rest of your morning on Ritchie Rich’s nonsense. And like clockwork, your phone vibrates soon after, a text message by the nuisance himself.

Mingew: hey! that’s fine ill just call u about it nxt month! thats when the plan really takes action Mingew: keep ur phone on u!

You roll your eyes, not planning on taking that call in the slightest, and went with breakfast, other more important things going on in your mind and for once it isn’t Jeonghan.

No, you’re backtracking to Wonwoo, second guessing his intentions still. You’ve barely reacquainted yourselves (quite the understatement), but you’re started to grow this strange attachment, treading on early signs of a crush, maybe something more. You blame the proximity, cursing that bitch fate for putting such a hot dad with who isn’t a douche right at your doorstep when you were perfectly fine being single again.

But what’s hotter than a guy you know that’s good with kids? A guy that's good with kids and can put his mouth to use.

You need to talk this through with someone. Someone you can confide in. Jeonghan currently seems out of the picture considering he’s having his own issues he’s dealing with. So, it looks like you have to rely on someone else for the time being for that kind of attention, but you’re wracking your brain figuring out who.

Your phone buzzes again. Another text message. You assume it’s another from Mingyu and scoff, but are pleasantly surprised when it's not.

Soonyoung: mornin pal Soonyoung: friend? Soonyoung: i don’t know what to call you

You laugh quietly to yourself before responding.

you: morning…bud? soonyoung: weird isn’t it you: yeah soonyoung: so what ya up to you: just having breakfast in my pjs soonyoung: hot you: lol dude soonyoung: kidding sonyoung: what else you: well You: something’s on my mind lately Soonyoung: something or someone? you: are you in my fucking walls soonyoung: no but HA you: yeah it’s someone Soonyoung: wanna talk about it you: wouldn’t it be weird Soonyoung: whats weird about it You: you and me hooking up You: and then talking about someone else Im hooking up with Soonyoung: We are just friends Soonyoung: i feel like there no other better person to talk about to Soonyoung: unless maybe jeonghan. Have you talked about this with him You: no its ok. Let’s meet up

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rapturously · 1 year ago

Text

SIDELINES.

you haven’t seen jesse pinkman since high school — and he’s the last person you ever expected to connect with. however, times have changed — and so have you.

part 1. | part 2. | part 3. | part 4. | part 5.

༄ PAIRING. | jesse pinkman x [female] reader.

༄ FORMAT. | one-shot, multi-part — not requested.

༄ WORD COUNT. | 9.6K.

༄ WARNINGS. | drug use, references to substance use/addiction, past jane/jesse, emotional trauma/hurt, jesse’s internalized hatred/guilt, acquaintances to lovers, smoking, smut, smut with plot, making out, dirty talk, breast play, cunnilingus, hair pulling, bottom!jesse, riding, morning sex, aftercare.

༄ AUTHOR’S NOTE. | I don’t know where I’m getting these ideas, but I have a lot of projects in the works right now. Some are horror-related and some aren’t. Honestly, I’m just happy to be writing again no matter what the content is. Thank you guys for your continued support & love. I couldn’t do it without you all! Peace! ☺️

The scent of marijuana, pungent smoke, and a toxic amalgamation of sweat and AXE body spray wafted throughout the house, music jacked up so loud that it made your ears ring. You remained at your perch, stuffed along the wall of a stranger’s house while your friends got stoned in another room.

You were dragged to this party out of sheer loyalty to your friends and a boredom that outweighed anything else. Regret rippled through you, nose stinging from the foul smells that hung like a noxious haze in the living room. The drink you clutched within one hand was watered-down, tiny slivers of ice swirling around within the cup.

Some mediocre hip-hop song blasted throughout the house, bass loud enough to shake the very foundation — you were thoroughly surprised that the police hadn’t been called in for a noise complaint.

Grey wisps of smoke drifted in your direction, and you swatted at it with a wrinkled nose. It wasn’t your typical scene — the sort of party, at least. Partying was something you were accustomed to — harmless college parties with drinks and weed, but this was something else.

There were people snorting lines of cocaine off of a glass coffee table, and you swore that one person had passed out entirely in the kitchen. A strange sensation crawled across your flesh — a feeling that you weren’t exactly meant to be here. Your friends had driven you down here, but you were prepared to take your chances with walking home.

“Wanna hit?” A man asked you, gsze half-lidded, lips curled into a less than attractive smile. He propositioned you with a jerk of his head, motioning toward the thin line of fine, white powder sitting along the coffee table.

“No thanks.” You waved one hand in dismiss, weaving through the crowds to retrieve another drink. The kitchen was destroyed, ravaged by strangers with little respect for the home. Debris, trash, and the remnants of marijuana were everywhere. You nearly stepped on broken glass.

It felt like an out-of-body experience — as if you were simply a spectator, an observer who watched the chaos around you. You didn’t thrive or revel within it — you were indifferent. The vices of your friends differed greatly from your own, to quite an extreme degree.

As you watched the swarm of people, all huddled together within the living room, the air became stifling and stuffy, as if it threatened to suffocate you altogether. They reminded you of zombies — barely moving in one place, all drugged-out from whatever concoction of pills and illicit substances were available at this party.

You silently slipped outside, abandoning your drink somewhere on the windowsill as you stepped out into the cool night breeze. You inhaled, greedily drinking in the crisp freshness of dusk, hands roaming over your thin cardigan as you began to shuffle to the edge of the porch.

Moonlight pooled through the wispy clouds as they fluttered through the night — everything was so much quieter outside. The thumping of the bass had diminished, and the skunk-like scent had dissipated altogether.

The door opened behind you, a figure slinking out onto the porch a few feet away from you. “Hey.”

It was somewhat unfamiliar until you’d actually glanced over your shoulder, gaze landing upon a most familiar face — Jesse Pinkman. The two of you made eye contact; Jesse’s face blossomed with a subtle realization.

“Holy shit,” You let out a bark of a laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Jesse Pinkman, right? You went to J.P Wynne.” You hadn’t seen Jesse Pinkman since high school graduation — you distinctly remembered his social circle.

Jesse recognized you sometime during the midst of the party — a true wallflower, despite your popularity in junior high. It surprised him to see a girl like you at one of his drug-laden festivities, but then again, life was full of surprises. He looked tired, skin pale and eyes baggy as he leaned against one of the columns.

“Yeah,” Perusing his pockets, he fished out a cigarette, placing it between his lips. “You were one of the Honor Society members, right?” Jesse recalled your stellar academics and social standing — his polar opposite.

You made a face, keeping your arms folded across your abdomen. “Yeah.” Admittedly, Jesse wasn’t exactly someone you were friends with in high school. Cordial was a good word for it — your parents never would have allowed you to hang out with someone like him, anyway. “We were in Mr. White’s chemistry classes together.”

Upon mentioning Walter White, Jesse stiffened slightly, feigning innocence as he cracked a thin-lipped smile. “Jesus,” He exhaled, reaching for his lighter. “It’s been awhile.”

There was a prevalent exhaustion that hung within his eyes, a loneliness that almost felt tangible within that moment. He avoided eye contact with you at-times, hands fidgeting when you stepped closer.

“It has.” You paused, rubbing your palms across your arms. Despite the acrid heat that New Mexico produced during the day, the temperatures dropped drastically at night. You shivered, a delicate smile creeping across your features. “Did the party get a little boring for you, too?”

He’d forgotten about you a little bit — forgotten about just how beautiful you were. You’d only gotten prettier, too. Jesse felt the sting of sheepishness and inferiority that came with being around someone like you — a good person, someone with responsibilities and respectable morals. You weren’t a criminal — you hadn’t killed somebody.

Jesse almost felt as if he shouldn’t be speaking to you, but he pressed on. “I guess. Needed some air, you know?” He noticed your constant shivering, prompting him to remove the baggy, black jacket he wore. “You cold?” He asked, gesturing toward the garment he carried.

“Oh,” Warmth crept along your flesh, brows knitting together as you shook your head. “You don’t have to do that, Jesse.” It was a thoughtful gesture, something you didn’t expect, but you were freezing and the dress wasn’t doing you any favors.

“Nah, go ahead. Might smell like cigarettes, though.” Jesse forewarned, tucking one hand underneath his arm. The long-sleeved Henley he wore was more than enough for him.

You thanked him, slipping into his hooded zip-up. He wasn’t exactly incorrect — it did smell of cigarette smoke intermingled with the cologne he wore. You didn’t mind, though.

Silence drifted between the two of you, awkward enough to make you uncomfortable as you fished around for your cellphone. Minutes ticked by without a word. Jesse appeared to be a little nervous, and you wondered if it had anything to do with you.

There was a string of texts from your friends inquiring about your whereabouts. It was a little after ten o’clock, and you fully intended on walking home. “It was nice seeing you, Jesse. I hope you’re doing well.” You cleared your throat. “I’m going to head home.”

Jesse opened his mouth to speak, lips fumbling around the unlit cigarette. Surely, you didn’t want to talk to him — Christ, he was practically a stranger. It felt cruel of him not to offer to give you a ride home, or something like that.

“Hey, uh,” Jesse cleared his throat, clamoring after you. “I can give you a ride home. Could be stalkers or crazy people around.” His reasoning was weak, but it seemed to resonate with you, oddly enough. He felt strange — he barely knew you outside of what he perceived in high school.

You knew that Jesse had gotten in trouble with the law in school — everyone knew. Gossip was prevalent at J.P Wynne. Part of you screamed to refuse, to politely decline and endure the lengthy trek home, but a sliver of you wanted to accept, to indulge in your curiosity.

Jesse had always been kind to you in the very rare, occasional interaction you’d had with him. He hadn’t given you any reason not to trust him. It was a nice change of company — refreshing, almost. There was a clean slate between the two of you.

Your shoulders slouched and sluggishly lifted in a weak shrug as you rubbed your hands together. “You don’t mind? It’s on Nauman Drive, past downtown.” A decent drive, for sure — a half an hour or more. You expected him to reject you given the distance.

“Nauman?” It was a nice area, he knew that much. “Yeah, I don’t mind. You care if I smoke?” Jesse inquired, gesturing around toward the garage. He didn’t care about the house — it almost seemed to fade away into the background. He needed a break, time to think.

“Go ahead.” You trailed after Jesse, following him toward the paved stretch of driveway. A 1984 Toyota Tercel sat, red paint beginning to fade and show signs of weathering. It was beat-up, but certainly held a bit of rugged appeal.

Jesse awkwardly shuffled to open the passenger door, and you thanked him, sinking down into the felt seats. The car smelled of cigarette smoke and cheap air fresheners, but it was tidy and clean inside. You placed your purse down onto the floorboard in front of you.

Blowing a pillar of smoke into the air, Jesse hastily finished his cigarette, fingers beginning to quiver as he opened the driver’s side. He hadn’t really spent time with a girl since Jane — but you didn’t remind him of her whatsoever. There were many qualities you possessed that certainly contrasted from her, not that it was a bad thing.

“Do you live here?” You asked, head canting to one side. There were other cars scattered around the block and parked on the street, but his happened to be the only vehicle in the driveway.

“Uh,” Jesse glanced at you, absentmindedly wetting his lower lip. “Yeah, I do.” He turned the key forward, car rumbling and puffing to life. “Bought the house months ago — used to be my Aunt’s.” He clarified, wondering if you would ask about the obscene amount of drugs.

“You don’t think it’ll burn down while you’re gone?” You questioned, lips twitching into a thin smile as you rolled down the passenger window, letting your elbow rest up against the ledge.

Jesse let out a huff of laughter, and shrugged his shoulders. He began to back up, rolling out onto the empty roads. “It’s been through worse shit.” His wry statement only made your smile flicker again, but he vehemently focused on driving instead.

You felt the barrier melt a bit at that — it was comforting to know that the two of you didn’t have to behave like complete strangers. Silence simmered again, settling between the both of you as he concentrated on finding something on the radio. It served as suitable background noise.

“What are you doing nowadays?” You avoided the topic of the party — it wasn’t worth mentioning. A cool breeze whipped through the car as he began to drive, causing goosebumps to prickle along your shoulders.

“I don’t know,” Jesse confessed, cerulean hues flickering in your direction. “Drifting, I guess.” It was the first time where he’d revealed a sliver of his true feelings. The parties were a worthwhile distraction — soulless events where he could find solace in all of the chaos surrounding him. “Shit, it’s a long story.” His laughter was shaky.

“You don’t have to do a full confession, Jesse.” You reassured, playfully prodding at your cardigan. “I’m not wearing a wire.” With a gentle exhale, your tone softened as he pulled out onto the highway. It was almost soothing — driving back home with somebody you never expected to see again.

Jesse laughed at that, running a hand across his disheveled hair, and then planting it against the back of his neck. The support groups he’d been attending didn’t work — there was no comfort he’d been able to find.

Everything felt like some massive distraction from the root of the problem — the residual pain he was dealing with from Jane, from Gale. His heart hammered within his chest, and he looked at you again. Oddly enough, your nonchalant behavior and lack of judgment would’ve been enough for him to spill in a different setting.

“Hey, what about you? What are you doing these days?” Jesse immediately shifted the focus away from him. He was far more interested in what you had to say than his own life. Besides, it would pull him out of his own head for a little while.

The inquiry was unexpected but not unwelcome, causing you to adjust yourself within the passenger seat. “Oh,” You cleared your throat. “I’m in college at the University of New Mexico. I’m still trying to figure out what I’d like to study — getting basics out of the way. I work at a cafe.”

Normal, uneventful, peaceful — Jesse envied you.

You were achieving something mundane yet safe, something that he wished he would’ve done long ago. Maybe things wouldn’t have happened in the way that they did. His countenance became a touch forlorn, but it wasn’t the time to become mournful over the past. He couldn’t go back, not anymore.

“Yeah, that’s …” He nodded, attempting to conjure the right words to say. “That’s good, really good. You know you could do anything you wanted. You were always really smart and shit.” Jesse replied, gaze hyperfocused upon the road as headlights raced past.

You could detect that Jesse was holding something back — that minuscule flicker of pain had crossed over his visage before being forced to dissipate. Your eyebrows furrowed together, and you reached over, gently prodding at his shoulder.

“Hey,” You began, tone laced with concern. “Are you okay?”

Jesse felt his heart constrict within his chest, wisps of air stolen from his lungs. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had asked that — and genuinely meant it. It wasn’t out of obligation, that was easy to tell. He felt his throat grow thick, but he staved off any tears.

“Yeah.” It was a blatant lie, spoken through a clenched jaw. He nearly winced when you touched his shoulder, feeling as if he were souring the mood entirely. “Just, uh … You know, going to therapy and rehab right now. It’s been tough.” A very threadbare half-truth, but it was enough to placate you.

“Oh.” A warmth crept into your voice as you withdrew, countenance softening as you sank back into the passenger seat. “That’s understandable, Jesse. I’m sorry.” You replied, tucking strands of hair behind your ear as you looked out the window again.

Albuquerque was a sprawling city, and as the two of you neared the nicer end, Jesse knew that Nauman was only ten minutes away. He didn’t want to go back to the party anymore — but it might’ve been the best option. If he stayed with you, he knew the pain it would cause. He feared losing people — it was present all the time, a nagging dread that never stopped.

“Don’t be sorry,” Jesse interjected, knuckles tightening on the steering wheel. “Did that shit to myself, you know?” Addiction was behind him. He rarely participated anymore — he was just a silent observer, fueling everyone else’s vices while he withered away. What kind of a life was that?

You canted your head to one side, lips parting slightly as you spoke. “Jesse, that’s not entirely your fault. You can’t blame yourself for your environment or circumstances out of your control.” You were right — but he made the choice to shoot Gale, and he made the choice to shoot up with Jane before she died.

He was silent, feeling the sensation of tears swimming within his gaze. Jesse didn’t want to even remotely consider crying in front of you — he barely knew you. Instead, he focused on the road, taking the exit towards Albuquerque Studios. Nauman wasn’t very far away.

You couldn’t recall the last time you’d had a conversation with someone else that was this raw and vulnerable. Jesse’s discomfort was palpable and very real to you, and you felt horrible. Your countenance glistened with concern, brows furrowing together.

After the exit, Jesse drove onto Nauman Drive. There were rows of beautiful, lavish houses and apartment complexes, ones that he probably could’ve bought with the dealing money. He was blowing it all away right now on drugs for the parties — he was beginning to ask himself ‘why?’

“My apartment is at the end of the drive.” Your voice had softened, hands planted within your lap as he followed your directions. It was a smaller apartment complex but much nicer, your driveway occupied by your vehicle.

Jesse pulled up along the curb — it was eerily silent, aside from the cacophony of crickets that provided a steady ambience, and the occasional bark of a dog. He put the car in park, still gripping the steering wheel. “You got a nice place.” He murmured, a halfhearted attempt to shift the conversation to something else.

“Hey,” After unbuckling your seatbelt, you leaned over the center console, palm resting over his hand, the one that was strangling the wheel of the car. “Why don’t you come inside? I can make you coffee or something and you can just space out for a little while. We don’t even have to talk.”

The offer was generous — admittedly, Jesse wondered if it would benefit him in any way. If he could just lay on your couch, decompress, let the emotion off of his chest. He didn’t care about the state of the house — he didn’t care about anybody at that party. What he did care about, however, was you, and how you made him feel.

It was as if the invisibility he’d been safely floating in for so long was shattered, but there was someone who could actually see him — see the veil he’d been maintaining for this whole time. His gaze finally flickered toward you, who appeared genuinely concerned for him.

You were good — truly good.

There wasn’t an ounce of maliciousness or an underlying agenda. You didn’t smoke, you hadn’t touched drugs, you were in college with a steady, normal job that never got you involved with the wrong people. Jesse knew what he’d be putting you through if he let this drag out for too long. If he fucked up, people could hurt you.

“Listen,” Jesse swallowed, palm planted against the back of his neck. “You’re really sweet, okay? You’re nice,” He wanted to word it in a way that wouldn’t hurt your feelings. “I just — I can’t. I’m not in a good spot right now. I don’t wanna drag you down with me.” That sounded fair, didn’t it?

You could accept that.

If it had something to do with the drugs, which you assumed that it was, then you understood that he was trying to protect you. You wanted to encourage him to try, but the last thing you wanted to do was pressure someone in a fragile state.

“Okay, Jesse.” You hesitated, pressing your tongue against the inside of your cheek. “I just want you to know that you're not alone. If you need someone, I’m here for you. I know that there was a wedge in high school, but I don’t see any reason why we couldn’t reconnect.” You shrugged, popping open the passenger side door.

As you stepped outside, you made sure to remove his jacket, draping it over the center console as you shut the door. Jesse didn’t say anything as you rounded the car — he was biting his finger, eyes squeezing shut as you made the short trek toward your front door. It felt like an eternity until you’d actually gotten inside.

Jesse exhaled, hands trembling as he hastily wiped away straggling tears that he’d been withholding during the span of the whole drive. Part of him knew that he could use a positive influence like you in his life, but the danger that lurked around him, the cloud of loss, he was afraid that you’d become lost in all of that, too.

The deliberation between going back to his house and biting the bullet to stay with you was a tedious process. He sat out in the car for a long time — he was surprised that you hadn’t come back outside asking why he was sitting there with his head pressed against the steering wheel.

When he finally made the choice to go up to your door, the walk felt like a lengthy, eternal drag. Jesse rocked forward, pressing his hands against his face as he composed himself. Back in high school, he was suave — much more of a charmer. Nowadays, he felt incompetent, but it was largely due to an amalgamation of nerves and drug use.

He knocked a few times, skin crawling with a nervous sensation, but there was something exciting about it, too. You were familiar yet new, a breath of fresh air that he desperately needed. Jesse watched as the door opened, and there you were.

“Hey, uh,” Jesse stuck his hands into his pockets, rocking back upon his heels. “Is the offer still on the table?” He’d ask, and your lips split into a gentle yet bemused smile.

“Of course.” You’d changed into your pajamas — a baggy, oversized graphic t-shirt and cotton shorts that were dwarfed by your top. “Did you want to watch a movie? I was about to start Watchmen.”

Jesse watched as you stepped aside to invite him in, closing the door behind him and latching the lock. You had a weird itch for security, especially at night. “Yeah, that sounds cool.” He replied, having a look around.

Your apartment was tidy and very cozy, with a rather comforting aesthetic and atmosphere. Jesse felt a little more relaxed, wandering around in the small living room. The soft glow of a lamp illuminated the plush sofa, scattered with throw blankets and pillows.

As you prepared coffee, you wondered what changed his mind. It was a question that would likely nag at you until you asked. You understood being lonely — aside from the occasional hangout with your friends, you lived alone.

“Make yourself at home,” You chimed, weaving around the coffee table to place your steaming mugs down, settling into the couch. Jesse sat a comfortable distance away, arm slung over the back of the sofa. “What changed your mind?”

Your question caught him off-guard, but he wanted to be transparent with you. He owed you that much, especially after talking to him — after this, after everything. “I knew that I’d be miserable if I went back,” He shrugged. “I don’t wanna keep being miserable.” Loneliness also played a factor in this, but he didn’t really want to own up to it just yet.

“I understand,” You began, tucking one knee toward your chest as you played the movie. Admittedly, it served as better background noise than anything else. “I’m glad you came over.” Your lips split into a soft smile.

Jesse hesitated, glancing over at you as he stayed silent. He was most definitely drinking you in, gaze subtly raking you over as you took a sip of your coffee. For a moment, he envisioned this — getting close to you, hanging out with you, just getting to be himself, or as close as he could get again.

“I’m glad, too.” Jesse confessed, rubbing at the back of his head. He nearly shriveled at the eye contact you made with him, but he maintained it instead, lips twitching into a faint smile.

You nudged your drink back onto the wooden table, wordlessly slinking closer to Jesse until you were curled up beside him. The silence simmered with something else, perhaps a crackle of affection. Your gaze glistened with a peculiar softness, flickering between the movie and him.

Admittedly, this was the last thing Jesse expected — but that didn’t stop him from wanting it to happen. Once you initiated, he decided to meet you halfway, draping his arm around you, cheek pressed against the top of your head.

He’d been craving something like this for a while now. Jane left a void — a massive, gaping wound that he feared wouldn’t heal, but now? Maybe there was an end in sight — maybe there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Jesse relaxed, sinking into you as you cuddled up with him.

Your hands intertwined, fingers brushing together until they joined. Just like Jesse, you were chasing after the sensation of touch, chasing after that feeling of fulfillment — no more loneliness. You’d been dealing with it for a long while, trying to manage the sea of emotions, and this was a nice break from that.

“I understand feeling miserable,” You murmured, head resting comfortably against his collarbone. “Sometimes it feels like you’re alone out on a raft, in the middle of the ocean.”

Jesse’s jaw tightened, but there was a mutual sense of empathy and understanding within your words. That was how he felt oftentimes — just himself, attempting to stay afloat. He didn’t say anything, but he did caress your knuckles with his thumb as a form of acknowledgment.

As the movie progressed, the two of you occasionally made small talk, but you were a little engrossed by the film, and so was he. It was comforting to just be near him — let him hold you, keep it light with gentle touches and whatnot.

It wasn’t until halfway through the movie that Jesse cleared his throat, glancing down at you with exhausted eyes. “Thanks for this,” He murmured, absentmindedly wetting his lower lip. “Would you wanna do it again? Like, uh … Hanging out, or something?” He was intent on cleaning up his place, now.

“Yeah,” You replied, twisting within his hold enough to peer up at him. “I would.” There was something special about this — perhaps a feeling of renewal, of starting something with someone you never expected. You had a feeling that Jesse needed a little bit of support, and you didn’t mind providing that.

“Shit,” Jesse breathed through a soft laugh, visibly bewildered yet pleased by your answer. “Okay.” He didn’t expect that from you — he didn’t expect anything, really.

The both of you were smiling, now. Watchmen dissipated into the background once more, simply serving as ambience as the two of you nestled together. “Okay.” You parroted, lips curling into a lopsided smile as Jesse gathered his bearings.

You had little time to fully comprehend his next actions — he moved inward, cerulean hues dropping from your face to your mouth. Everything about this screamed sudden and intense, but you didn’t care. He tasted like cigarette smoke and spearmint gum — he had a very sweet kiss.

Jesse inhaled, relaxing into you, careening right into the warmth of your body. Every fiber of his being felt electrified, and he became so incredibly nervous — he hadn’t done this since Jane. He didn’t want her death to tarnish the moment, but it was inevitable.

He pulled away, opening his mouth to speak, yet nothing emerged. Words turned to ash upon his tongue, dying then and there as he hung his head, fingers toying with yours.

It wasn’t difficult to tell that he was struggling with this — you didn’t want to pry, but you didn’t want him to feel obligated, either. “Hey,” You murmured, dragging one hand toward his face, fingertips grazing over his stubbled jaw. “What’s wrong?” It was written all over his countenance, this underlying sense of pain.

“Nothing, just …” Jesse shivered when your palm cupped his jaw, shamelessly leaning into the sensation you left behind from your hand. “I just don’t wanna leave.” It sounded so pathetic — he didn’t want to go back home to a drug-laden pit.

Your lips twitched into a faint smile. “Is that it?” You left it open-ended, attempting to stay on the side of not being invasive or pushy. You wanted him to be comfortable.

Jesse huffed, idly tracing the pad of his thumb across the delicate plane of your knuckles. “Nah,” He admitted, cerulean hues flickering toward your face. “Haven’t really done this in awhile.” Telling you the visceral, painful truth would’ve been too much for him, so he settled on something else, something superficial.

“What, kissing?” You teased, keeping it mellow and lighthearted before he shook his head. “If it’s any reassurance, I haven’t done anything, either. Don’t feel like it’s just you.” With a soft sigh, you watched as Jesse leaned back just an inch or two, head craned to rest against your couch.

There was something forlorn about him, a light aura of melancholy that swirled around his being. You didn’t want to ask, but you couldn’t help but wonder what happened. You were able to look past that — he was attractive. You’d always thought that he was handsome.

“You, uh … You mind if we do it again?” Jesse asked, head cocked to one side. He was some amalgamation of sheepishness and a suave charm, smile somewhat feeble as he held your hand.

“I don’t mind.” You replied, but before he could lean in again, you had something on your mind. “Jesse?”

Jesse stooped closer, forehead nearly pressed against yours. “Yeah?”

“Would it help if you stayed tonight?” Whatever was plaguing him, being alone around drugs was the last thing he needed. You didn’t mind him staying the night — you didn’t mind whatever came with that, too.

He remained silent for a few moments, and immediately felt as if he should say no — and against his own inner turmoil, he wanted to be with you. He didn’t care if the house was a mess or if it had been reduced to nothing — he’d rather stay here with you.

“I don’t wanna disturb the peace,” Jesse began, nose wrinkling slightly when you rolled your eyes. “I can crash on the couch.” Admittedly, that sliver of him that was desperate for affection also wanted to sleep with you, but it was only polite to keep his distance until you said otherwise.

“You’re not disturbing anything. Promise.” You reassured, fingers creeping toward the nape of his neck as you tilted forward. “I want you to stay.” You uttered, your own desire for fulfillment and company mirrored his own want to not be alone.

Part of him really wished you hadn’t said that — but once the gate was open, Jesse couldn’t stop himself, and neither could you. His gaze fell to your lips, thumb briefly caressing your jaw until the two of you were colliding into one another.

Jesse kissed you again, compassionate and borderline needy, hand dropping to grasp at the curve of your hip. His free hand still remained tangled with yours, eyes fluttering shut as you shuffled forward, partially planted within his lap. It was enough to make him forget about the downward spiral he was on, and it was as if the plummeting had ceased — for now.

You didn’t know where this would lead, but that was the exhilarating part about it. The uncertainty and the newfound territory that was Jesse Pinkman elated you. Maybe this was what you needed; he was what you needed — you needed a fresh start.

“Hey, uh,” Jesse whispered against your mouth, fingers teasing the hem of your baggy shirt, grazing over your thigh. “Where we going with this?” It was spoken with compassion and concern, out of total thoughtfulness for you. Maybe you didn’t want to sleep with a junkie — he couldn’t blame you.

“I think I know where I’d like to go,” You confessed, head canting to one side. “Where do you want to go?” You asked, idly trailing your digits through his hair. You noticed the subtle bobbing of his Adam’s apple, accompanied by a peculiar sheen within his eyes.

If it was something serious that you were after, Jesse was unsure if he even had that capability. After Jane, it almost seemed to shatter — fall apart. Maybe it didn’t have to be that way forever. Perhaps, there was a light at the end of the tunnel for the two of you.

Instead of recoiling, Jesse held you closer, wordlessly ushering you into his lap, palm splayed out underneath your shirt, resting soundly at the curve of your hip. “I just,” He hesitated, completely enamored by you — you were beautiful. “I don’t know if I can be what you need right now.” He admitted.

You respected him all the more for his candor, hands coming to rest at the nape of his neck. You decided to kiss him, slow and steady, tilting to one side for something deeper. When you withdrew, your lips twitched into a smile. “I’m patient.” With that conclusion alone, Jesse relaxed.

He felt a bit of pressure relinquish itself from him, like a weight being removed from his chest. Jesse was worried that you’d want something serious, something strict off the bat. He didn’t intend on sleeping around, but he was afraid of disappointing you more than anything.

Given the implication of your interactions, Jesse had something on his mind — he figured that the feeling was mutual.

Jesse remained quiet for a moment, pressing a sweet kiss against your jaw, and then another to your neck. “Where’s your room?” He murmured, nearly shuddering in delight when you absentmindedly tugged on his hair.

“Come on.” Reluctantly, you removed yourself from his lap, taking ahold of his hand as you led him down the short corridor towards your bedroom. It was, as Jesse expected, lavishly-decorated and aesthetically pleasing. It far outweighed the dump he was living in.

“Cute.” Jesse couldn’t help but comment, lips twitching into a smile as he observed your choice of style and the many pillows piled up on top of your mattress. Admittedly, it all felt so cozy and welcoming — it even smelled good.

With a playful roll of your eyes, you watched as Jesse nudged the door closed. The both of you were swallowed by the lower, dim lighting of your bedroom, slivers of orange encompassing your scantily-clad frame.

He pressed closer, hands roaming across your body, one palm gently slipping underneath the hem of your shirt to brazenly grab at your ass. Locked in another heated kiss, your hands moved to push his jacket away, draping across his shoulders.

The sensation of your fingers roaming through his hair was enough to make his knees weak, a low groan resonating within his throat. You tasted sweet, like the twang of strawberry chapstick and the citrus seltzer you’d been drinking at the party. Jesse kissed you again, greedily this time, one hand cupping the curve of your hip.

As the two of you fell onto your bed in a feverish heap of limbs and mouths, you withdrew for a moment, getting yourself adjusted. You prepared to remove your shirt until you saw Jesse laying there, eyes half-lidded. Exhaustion was scrawled into his face, as if it were a permanent feature.

“Are you tired?” You asked, more concerned about his state of wellbeing. You were getting hot and bothered, but your own desire could be put on hold for a little while.

Jesse appeared embarrassed, but with the bags underneath his eyes and the perpetual state of tiredness that hung around him, he couldn’t lie to you. “Yeah,” He chewed at the inside of his cheek. “Shit, this feels pathetic. I’m practically blue-balling myself.” He mused, and it made you giggle.

“It’s not pathetic, Jesse.” You reassured, opting to climb into bed and make yourself comfortable. Jesse kicked off his shoes, following suit until he was resting at your side, arms tangled around you. “You look like you’re seconds away from crashing. I think we can put sex aside for now.”

Begrudgingly, he felt you cuddle against him, head near his collarbone as he made himself comfortable with you. His erection happened to push into your rump throughout, but before you could make a playful comment about it, his breathing had steadied.

“Jesse?” You whispered, receiving no response. He was most definitely asleep, and you confirmed this by simply rolling over. His expression was cast into one of bliss, still clutching onto you even through slumber. You sank back down with a smile, and decided to sleep, too.

—

Slivers of dawn’s first light trickled through the gossamer curtains — faint enough not to draw any attention, but enough to signal to Jesse that it was early in the morning. He’d stayed the night, and even then, it didn’t seem real.

You were asleep at his side, still nestled against him, but beginning to stir. Jesse couldn’t tell if it was because you were really waking up, or because his hard-on was protruding into you. He remembered last night — kissing you before he’d fallen asleep.

It wasn’t one of his smoothest moments — not by a long shot.

“Hey,” As the haze of grogginess began to lift, you were elated to find Jesse — still in your bed, and still next to you. Even being disheveled from sleep, Jesse found you to be astoundingly gorgeous. There was perfection to you that he wanted to drown himself inside of. “You’re here.” You smiled.

“Did you think I ditched or something?” He asked, arm draped around you as you shook off the feeling of slumber. Admittedly, part of you thought he’d wake up and leave, but he proved you wrong.

“A little bit,” You confessed, feeling his hand trace idle patterns into the dip of your waist. You wriggled closer, pressing a soft kiss against his stubbled jaw. “But I’m glad you didn’t.” It was complete and utter bliss, waking up with him — it was the last thing you expected, but you could get used to it.

Jesse huffed, hand dragging from your waist to your face, palm cupping your cheek as he caressed your jaw with his thumb. “Nah,” He smiled this time, cerulean eyes boring into you, becoming lost in the mere presence of you. “Didn’t even cross my mind, if I’m being honest.”

You smiled, eyelashes fluttering in rapid succession before you planted a sloppy, slower kiss against his lips. “What crossed your mind instead?” You asked, careening into the sensation of his palm cradling your face.

Jesse felt much better, no longer plagued by the desire for sleep. Instead, there was something else he wanted — he wanted to pick up from last night. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against yours, hand skimming toward your thigh.

“Lots of stuff,” He began, coaxing you against him as he answered your question in between a series of heated, needy kisses. “All about you.” Jesse confessed, peering at you through his lashes before his hand gently grabbed at your ass.

“Yeah? Do you wanna show me?” You asked, becoming a bit breathless whenever he kissed you. It was accompanied by plenty of groping, ensuring that you were flush against him as the tension rose to a boiling point between the two of you.

You weren’t about to recoil, reciprocating his kiss with a passionate one of your own, stomach churning with anticipation. Your hand moved toward the nape of his neck, fingers lightly grabbing at his hair. Each kiss was sweet yet sloppy, and you could feel Jesse’s hand underneath your shirt.

“Yeah, I do. Do you wanna do this?” Jesse murmured, ensuring that he wasn’t jumping the gun. You could’ve changed your mind from last night — that was certainly a possibility, and he’d be just fine with it. He was partially on top of you, but he leaned back enough to gauge your answer.

“Absolutely.” You smiled, sitting up enough to get your shirt off, which Jesse kindly assisted with. The both of you sank into a rather peaceful moment, blissfully quiet as he wriggled out of his shirt.

Jesse leaned forward again, capturing your mouth in a passionate, heated kiss, his hands finding the smooth curve of your hips. “You’re so pretty.” He exhaled, feeling that little pang of nervousness. He hadn’t touched a girl since Jane, but he wasn’t about to let himself be thrust into the past, not now.

Heat saturated your skin, crawling all over you like a fever. In the wake of Jesse’s compliment, you felt sheer elation, feeling his lips roam from your mouth to your jaw. His hands were everywhere, inevitably finding their purchase against your thighs. He peppered a string of kisses from your jaw to your neck, though his kisses soon turned to suckling.

“Jesse.” You moaned, haplessly grasping onto his shoulders as he left a series of hickeys on your neck. You felt his digits curl around the waistband of your panties, but he made no motion to remove them just yet.

Your moan was enough to make him shiver in delight, gaze following the path of your hand as you hastily unclasped your bra. You had such a beautiful body — Jesse felt some semblance of awe, snug against you as you got comfortable atop the comforter.

Continuing his previous route, Jesse’s mouth kissed down your neck and collarbone, stopping above your breasts. Even your smell was intoxicating — everything about you reeled him in. “Jesus,” He mumbled against your sternum. “You’re beautiful.” It was an endless string of softspoken praises that escaped him.

He was scrawny, with a lanky musculature — you found it attractive in the best of ways. Your gaze occasionally fell across his many tattoos, committing every detail to memory. Your fingers continued to tug and pull at his hair, body jolting into him when his mouth wrapped around your nipple.

A low groan resonated from his throat, rippling across his chest when you continued to toy with his hair. His hand traced down the plane of your stomach, slipping underneath the elastic trim of your panties. You nearly buckled, writhing underneath him when his digits slipped against your cunt.

You felt his mouth suck and kiss at your breast, in-tandem with the teasing ministrations of his fingers. It was feather-light, enough to drive you to the brink of frustration. “You wet already, angel?” It was almost an incredulous statement instead of a question.

Fuck — the nickname was enough to send shockwaves pulsating through your body. Your skin became awash with warmth, lips falling apart as you peered down, enough to catch a glimpse of those half-lidded, cerulean eyes and the adoring tilt of his lips. Goosebumps snaked across your spine, back arching off of the bed.

Jesse wasn’t dumb — he knew that your reaction was from the nickname. He pressed his tongue against his cheek, pressing a string of kisses from your breast to stomach, tattooed hand curling into your panties as he inched them past your thighs.

“Say it again,” It was a command that fell from your mouth, and not a plea. Your fingers happened to tense within his hair, enough to make his jeans become uncomfortably tight. “Please.” With a breathy exhale, you felt Jesse’s lips trace across the curve of your hip.

He felt his heart hammer with erratic excitement, tongue absentmindedly flicking out to trace across his lower lip. Christ, you looked so perfect like this — Jesse watched you, breathing intensifying as you spread your legs just a little bit. He often walked the line between nervousness and confidence, feeling a sense of boldness swell within him.

His breath fanned across the inside of your thigh, lips ghosting over the soft skin there. Jesse’s gaze remained fixated upon you, glistening with a sheen of lust as he finally began to kiss his way to the throbbing between your legs. “Where do you want me, angel?” Jesse murmured, assuming that he knew the answer.

You couldn’t recall the last time you’d felt this way — floating, so unbelievably slick and warm that you felt feverish. Jesse brought out a new level of neediness and desperation that you never thought possible. “Jesse,” You moaned, squirming haplessly as you urged him closer. “Please, please.”

Jesse swallowed, wordlessly following the motion of your hand as he lapped at your cunt, tongue dragging along the length of your slit. You were whimpering, one hand grappling at his freckled shoulder. He was so turned on from the noises you made, enough for him to grind his hips into the mattress.

You sputtered a very pitiful apology when your hips bucked forward, but you were met with a barrage of needy licks and a faint moan. Slivers of morning light pooled through the curtains, falling across Jesse as he buried his face between your thighs. His weeks-old stubble rubbed against the sensitive flesh of your legs.

Nimble digits skimmed forward, one palm splayed against your pelvis as the other gripped down on your thigh. You wanted to sob from how good it felt — he was talented with his mouth, that much was for sure. His tongue flicked over your clit, gestures rhythmic and steady.

A knot formed within your stomach, a coil that continued to tighten, threatening to burst if Jesse kept it up. It all felt like some foreign fever dream, but you much preferred the current reality — Jesse Pinkman, eating you out until you cried. You felt his hand brush against yours, a gesture that was startlingly tender.

One hand untangled itself from his hair, deciding to give him a break, going to hold his hand instead, fingers lacing together. You felt his lips begin to purse around your clit, simultaneously eliciting another noisy, elated moan from your lips.

Your chest heaved with a myriad of throaty, high-pitched whimpers as he sucked on your clit, stars rippling past your vision. No one had ever gone down on you with such reverence and passion before, but now that you’d gotten a taste, you wanted more.

Jesse hadn’t realized it, but somewhere in the thick of hooking up with you, he was feeling like himself again. It almost felt as if he’d been transported back to a time before he’d met Walter White, to a time where he was slinging crystal and simply enjoying life. Each moan, every little mewl and keen that escaped you was akin to music.

“Jesse,” You panted, breathing somewhat ragged as he lapped at your clit. That coil began to unfurl, blistering heat coursing through you, a white-hot rush of sheer ecstasy that caused you to moan and cry out. “Jesse!” You felt him squeeze your hand, a silent reassurance to let go.

Unbothered by the mess, Jesse groaned, feeding off of your orgasm as he lapped at your cunt, ministrations lacking the vigor from before. Your stomach felt like mush, but you wanted him to fuck you senseless — you almost felt embarrassed for how wound-up you’d become.

He was quiet, kissing your thighs as he began to sit back up, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand. Jesse ogled you, head cocking to one side before he spoke. “You are so beautiful.” It wasn’t something spoken lightly during sex — you felt it seep right into your bones, genuine as ever.

“So are you.” You replied, and you watched his throat bob as he swallowed. Jesse crawled up, and in a flurry of unrestrained passion, he kissed your mouth. You could taste yourself, taste him — it was enough to make your cunt throb again, still dealing with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Could you, uh …” Jesse mumbled, erection pulsing and rubbing right into the pliant flesh of your thigh. “I want you on top.” He was used to climbing on top of girls and going to town until he ran out of stamina, but he had different reasons this time. “I wanna see you.”

Your heart fluttered within your chest, and you nodded, watching as he rolled over, making himself comfortable atop the mound of pillows lining your bed. There was something eerily intimate in the way that he spoke — maybe it was just you. It was soft and sweet, enough to make you shudder as you straddled his hips.

Reaching for his belt, you unfastened it, moving enough for him to kick his pants off. His hands moved toward your thighs, fingers caressing across your flesh as the both of you worked to remove the final article of clothing. He was quiet this time, staring up at you with a searing, intense look — it was almost adoring.

He was unbearably hard, hips writhing slightly, desperate to be inside of you. Jesse nearly melted at the sensation of your hand wrapping around his cock, giving it a few, sluggish strokes, thumb swiping across the head before you lifted yourself up just enough.

Jesse groaned in tandem with you as you sank down onto his length, digits tensing into your thighs as you adjusted yourself, lips falling apart. You reached for his hands, fingers twining together. Goosebumps erupted across his body, chest fluttering with an unshakable warmth.

“Jesus.” Jesse breathed, watching as you stooped down to press your mouth against his, open-mouthed and sloppy. His tongue traced across your lower lip, and you responded by rolling your hips forward. He exhaled, reciprocating with another heated, messy kiss.

He released one of your hands, enough to grip onto your hip, guiding you into a steady rhythm. Your pace was somewhat sporadic and erratic at first, slipping into a natural flow once he held onto you. Jesse groans, unable to keep from staring at you as if you were perfection incarnate.

You whimper, using your knees to rock yourself up and back down, sinking onto his cock until he’s bottomed out. The intermingling of your moans fill your bedroom, accompanied by the faint squeak and creak of your bed frame. “Jesse.” You mewl, feeling his lips smack against your collarbone.

What started as something slow and sluggish had gained traction, your pace increasing slightly. A crackling, familiar heat raced across your body, making your stomach churn with anticipation, simultaneously pooling with warmth.

A soft moan tore past his lips, skin flushing with a rosy shade as you careened forward, one palm splaying out across his chest. “Shit,” Jesse’s voice emerged again as an excitable pant, squeezing your hand as you continued to piston yourself up and down. “You feel so good, baby.” Any little nickname was enough to make you preen.

Heat rippled through you, continuing to consume your body in waves. He sat up, enough to be within reach of you as he pressed a messy, sultry kiss against your collarbone, clamoring for your mouth as you tilted your head downward.

Your hand snaked from his chest to the nape of his neck, gripping his hair once. Your motions became somewhat uneven and less rhythmic as you rocked yourself on his cock, mewling and whimpering, noises intertwining with his strenuous groans. His palm grabbed at the curve between your thigh and ass, gripping you tight as you rode him.

“M’close,” You huffed, prying your lips away from his, only for you to press a trail of haphazard kisses against his stubbled jaw. “Jesse.” Another whine escaped you, followed by a cacophony of lewd noises. Your thighs felt a strain and burn from pistoning yourself onto his cock so many times, heat pooling between your legs.

Jesse was right there with you, though he wasn’t entirely sure where you wanted him to unload, to put it mildly. “Where do you want me?” He asked again, mirroring his inquiry from earlier. You slowed somewhat at that question, but he shook his head. “Keep going.” Despite the sting of borderline overstimulation, he didn’t want you to stop.

Both of his hands redirected themselves to your hips, guiding you along, letting you grind yourself forward, rolling your hips up and back onto his length. He groaned again, forehead pressed against yours, skin feeling as if it were set ablaze. The hold you had on him already was rather ironclad.

He kissed you again, unusually intimate and full of desire, digits groping and kneading into your curves. Your skin felt velvety underneath his fingertips, and your scent invaded his senses, overwhelming him in the best way possible. His cock was throbbing, swallowed by your tight cunt as you whimpered his name.

“Not inside.” You cautioned, breathlessly clashing with him again — all tongue, teeth and want as Jesse nudged you back. With your newfound position, legs locked around his lanky musculature as he rutted into you, you felt like you were seeing stars. “Holy shit, Jesse!” You moaned.

Jesse wasn’t grotesquely well-endowed, but he knew exactly how to utilize what he had. He felt like he’d broken the barrier right then and there, bottomed out inside of you before he pulled out, cumming onto your stomach. It was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen as thin ropes of slick seed fell across your abdomen.

His chest heaved with recuperative breaths, perspiration glistening along his brow as he hovered over you. The two of you sighed in-tandem, both coming down from a blissful high. Those pretty, cerulean eyes of his consumed you over and over again, fluttering in rapid succession before he lowered himself to kiss you.

It was slow — too slow, almost, but Jesse savored you, instead. Your nails ghosted across his forearm, tracing around the intricate pattern of his tattoo before skimming toward his shoulders. You reciprocated the kiss with a familiar sweetness, unhooking one leg from his waist.

“Sorry,” Jesse mumbled, gesturing toward the sticky mess that was splattered all over your stomach. “You look so pretty like that.” His tone lowered, taking on some delicious pitch that itched a certain part of you, sending goosebumps trailing across your spine.

Before you could respond, Jesse slipped off of you, tugging on his boxers as he wandered toward your bathroom to grab a towel. It was the first one he could get his hands on, returning to you with a rather adoring look in his eyes.

As you cleaned yourself up, making sure to discard the towel into your laundry basket, Jesse reappeared with a glass of water. It was quite endearing, watching the way he took care of you afterwards without being asked to. He sat next to you, watching as you pulled your panties back on and your t-shirt.

“That was really nice.” Admittedly, you needed it — but it felt better than before, all due to Jesse. You curled up next to him, head resting against his collarbone as his palm moved to cradle your face.

“Yeah, it was.” Jesse murmured, wishing that he could stay with you. He needed to get back home — the house was likely ruined. He’d also briefly glanced at his phone and noticed four missed calls from Mr. White’s number. “I wanna do it again.”

You giggled, nose wrinkling in amusement. “Hanging out together or having sex?” You asked, and he scoffed, lips twitching in a brief flash of a smile. “You can be honest, Jesse. I can handle it.”

“Both,” He confessed, savoring the feeling of your hand delicately tracing over the tattoo on his collarbone. “What if I took you out somewhere, yeah? Like on a date.” Jesse couldn’t believe that he’d asked you, but it was out in the open, now — no going back.

“Okay.” You mused, gaze flickering toward his lips. You would never get tired of kissing him — the taste of spearmint and cigarettes had become borderline addictive. “You can take me out.” With that, you leaned forward, pressing your mouth against his.

Jesse exhaled, reciprocating your kiss with one of his own. He squeezed his eyes shut, pad of his thumb caressing over your jawline. “Shit,” He sighed, a forlorn look within his eyes. “I gotta get going. I don’t want to.” He didn’t want to leave, but he had a feeling he’d be seeing you again soon. His phone vibrated again.

You yearned for the contact when he’d rolled out of your bed, getting himself dressed again. Once he found his jacket and keys, you decided to walk him to the door, standing with him in the cool morning breeze. Sunlight glittered down, bathing the both of you in picturesque lighting.

“Jesse,” You murmured, hand poised along the doorframe. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” You asked, watching him linger around on the front step as he glanced toward his car. After everything that happened, from last night to now, you were a little worried. He wasn’t exactly in the best state of mind — that much you knew.

Jesse hesitated — he didn’t have a viable answer to that. His house was a drug-laden pit, he was beginning to spiral, but you’d kicked him back onto a different path. It was an unpredictable road ahead. Even he had no idea how he’d feel by the end of the day, but one thing was for certain — he’d be okay for you.

He swallowed, and then nodded twice. “Yeah, I think so.” His chest tightened with a flurry of emotions, ones he hadn’t felt since Jane was around. Jesse was absolutely enthralled by you — and he wondered if that would lead to your doom.

With that, you nodded, beginning to turn around. Before you could, you felt a hand curling around your wrist, as if guiding you elsewhere.

“Hey,” Jesse muttered, reeling you back in for a gentle kiss. “I’ll see you later.” It was a promise to himself, more than it was to you. He was reluctant to pull away, but the buzzing in his pocket became rather urgent.

The kiss caught you off-guard, stealing every wisp of air right out of your lungs, warmth creeping across your skin until it burned something hot within your cheeks. You opened your mouth, unable to keep from smiling.

“See you later, Jesse.”

You really hoped that you would.

#jesse pinkman x reader #jesse pinkman x you #breaking bad #jesse pinkman fanfiction #jesse pinkman #breaking bad fanfiction #breaking bad fanfic #better call saul #female reader #aaron paul #sunkendreams masterlist

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viridescentelf · 6 months ago

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Yandere Bard x Reader - Elphael Introduction

Introducing: Elphael, a yandere bard drow

Universe: Baldur's Gate 3 or DnD

(heavily inspired by Aaravos from The Dragon Prince hehe)

Summary: your childhood, musical friend is madly in love with you, fantasizing about you in secret and planning to make you his

Warning: 18+ content, general nsfw, toxic, obsessive behavior

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The way your shoulder grazed his as you sat beside him. He wanted to pin you against the floor with his bodyweight, stuffing his dripping, black tongue in your throat to smother your voice. His lavender chest pressing against your soft skin, the nebula tattoos adorning his arms and abdomen alight with greed. His long, grey hair would fall and pool next to your head, intertwining with your soft tresses, as your velvet hands explore his arched, scarred back.

“Elph, did you hear me?”, you asked, blinking at him.

The drow, Elphael, twitched at the sound of your voice. He had been staring at you, holding his black violin up to his face.

“Uh, what? Sorry, I was … somewhere else,” he gruffed in his raspy voice. In his mind, he was frantically waving the dirty images away in order to concentrate.

“Can we change the tempo in this section? It feels a bit stagnate.” You were pointing at a part of the notes sheet displayed in front of you. Your voice was so enchanting. Why couldn’t he have one like yours? So sweet, like the soft sound of rain outside.

His grey eyes tore themselves away from your lips, to follow where your finger was hovering.

“Oh, yeah. You’re right. We can halve these notes right here.” He placed his calloused finger where yours was, just for the chance to feel your skin once again.

Elphael had longed for you, ever since you had met. He adored that face of yours. The second he saw you; he felt his heart drop into his stomach. The way your hair fell so effortlessly, it was so plump and alluring. He always wanted to entangle his long fingers in it. Pulling it, while his other hand held your hips.

But you were friends. Long time friends, too. You saw him more as a sibling. When you called him his brother, he wanted to prove you wrong. To hold your arms pinned together with one hand, drinking in your scent as his lips and tongue trailed down your neck, to your chest, biting. Feasting on that irresistable flesh.

Gods, if only.

“Let’s try that!” Your words yanked him back into the present.

You repositioned yourself, holding the guitar in your hands, strumming the beginning of the song you had been practicing, humming tenderly. As you swayed to the tune, your arm brushed his again. It drove him crazy.

Elphael spasmed and held his instrument firmer in his hand, joining in the melody at his part a bit frantically.

You would see reason one day and realize how perfect you two were together. The intensity of his desire for you terrified even him, he didn’t want to scare you away.

He needed to be patient. The moment would come.

And if it didn’t…well, maybe if you experienced how good it was to be with him. How delicious the pungent smell of your skin writhing under his could be. He would show you what a good lover he was. Persuade you with his caress. Convince you with his touch.

Maybe you’d understand then.

#yandere fanfiction #male yandere x reader #male yandere #oc #oc fanfiction #elphael #oc elphael #baldurs gate 3 #dnd oc #baldur's gate 3 oc #yandere x reader

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helpimstuckposting · 2 years ago

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I couldn’t get my earlier post out of my head, and then this happened so… I hope you enjoy a little famous!Eddie and dingus!Steve ficlet (ft platonic soulmate Stobin)

Part one | part two | part three

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Steve and Robin had lived in Indy all of their lives. They shared the same schools, same teachers, same jobs, it would never end. They were platonic soulmates in a way they understood but couldn’t explain to anyone else, and that was okay. It worked for them.

Since they graduated, they’d been ice cream scoopers, movie rental employees, pizza makers, delivery drivers, movie theater security, bartenders, and now - surprisingly - musicians.

They had originally started messing around with song covers during their bartending era. Every Thursday was karaoke night, and they were both too competitive to see it as anything other than a chance to win, both trying to upstage the other. After a while, Steve started writing songs in his free time and Robin wouldn’t let anyone but her sing them. She posted their songs on Tiktok and Instagram just to see what would happen, and eventually they made their way onto Spotify and other streaming services.

A few of their songs went viral enough that they had a steady stream of listeners, and spent their free time putting more and more songs together. Their boss even let them play live at the bar on Wednesdays (and of course they’re still just as passionate about karaoke night).

It was a few months into their Wednesday shows when he showed up. Eddie Munson. It was just another bar in Indy, just a stop on their tour, just a coincidence that he happened to choose Robin and Steve’s bar. Steve noticed him during their set, and he was so glad in that moment that Robin was the lead singer because he was absolutely sure his voice would have cracked. Corroded Coffin was one of Dustin’s favorite bands, the kid wouldn’t shut up about them any time a new album or single was released.

Steve knew they were in Indy on tour, he’d witnessed Dustin’s spiral about not being able to afford a ticket, but he couldn’t believe they stopped in this bar. Dustin was gonna freak.

Once Robin and Steve finished their set, they went back to the bar to resume their actual jobs and Steve was once again stunned when Eddie Munson walked right up to him for a drink. Obviously Steve should have expected that, what else was someone going to do at a bar? But seeing someone he knows from the multiple posters plastered over Dustin’s bedroom wall, right in front of him - in the flesh, was beyond anything he could have predicted. Internally, he was absolutely freaking out.

Externally, he tried to keep his professional mask on. Munson was a regular customer, just a guy buying a drink, Steve could handle it without a meltdown. But man was the guy attractive. His band tee was ripped at the hem, jean vest with all its pins and buttons catching the light, and Steve could see the tendon in his neck pull as he laughed at something his band mate next to him said. Steve wanted to bite it.

He finished a customer’s drink, collected their card, and braced himself as Munson stepped up to the bar, a dimpled smile on his face that made Steve’s heart flutter like a dying butterfly in his chest.

“Nice set, man, your friend’s voice is gorgeous,” he said. “Can I get three rum and cokes?”

Grabbing three glasses from the bar, Steve began on the drinks. “Absolutely,” he said, his smile probably nowhere near Eddie’s level. “Are you here often, or just visiting?” Steve asked, attempting to play it cool, like Eddie was just any other person. This is ridiculous, Steve’s gonna throw up. Keep calm.

Eddie looked him up and down and smirked, “Just visiting for the weekend,” he said. A growing lump in Steve’s throat made him want to scream ‘I know!!! I know why you’re here!!! I know who you are!!! Hi!!!’ but he shoved that down as far as it could go, ready to choke on it if need be.

Steve set the finished drinks on the bar in front of Eddie, the musician handing over his card in exchange. “Open or closed?” He asked.

“Open. So, are those songs originals?” Eddie leaned into the bar, putting his face just a bit closer to Steve’s. He was gonna have a heart attack before the night was over, for sure, if Eddie kept this up.

“Oh, yeah, I uh… I wrote them,” Steve stuttered out. This was insane, he could pinch himself, there was no way this situation was happening. Eddie was gorgeous, dimples firmly in place because he wouldn’t stop smiling or smirking, his curls just begging for Steve to bury his hands in them and bring their faces closer. If Steve hadn’t been on the receiving end of hundreds of Dustin’s rants about Corroded Coffin, he knows he’d still want to drag Eddie out back and see what those lips tasted like, if they felt as much like sunshine as they looked.

Eddie nodded appreciatively and looked Steve up and down once again. “I’d love to hear more some time,” he said as he turned to leave, three glasses balanced in his hands.

“Well there’s karaoke here tomorrow night,” Steve blurted out, all attempts at remaining calm flying out the window because was that Eddie flirting with him? How did we get here? “You could stop by if you’ve got any free time.”

Eddie laughed, amusement flickering in his eyes and suddenly Steve remembered chasing fireflies in Robin’s backyard when they were kids. He started walking backwards towards his friends, “I’ll see what I can do!” he said with a raised voice, flashing one more smile that made that butterfly in Steve’s chest absolutely flip out. He was frozen in place, the shock of the whole situation settling deep in his bones. Honestly, Steve wasn’t sure he was still alive. Did he choke somewhere between the stage and the bar? Did he even make it to work in the first place? What day was it?

“Earth to Dingus!” Robin shouted at the other end of the bar. “A little help here?” she frantically gestured around her to the rising number of patrons.

A pretty decently sized mob was forming around the bar, snapping Steve out of his rock-star-induced-coma. He could freak out later in the privacy of his own home, right now he had work to do. And if his brain short circuited every time Eddie ordered drinks, that was nobody’s business but his own (and Robin’s).

—

Thank you so much for the encouragement !

#these dingi have somehow snapped me out of my writers block #help I can’t stop thinking about them #I’ve never successfully flirted with a bartender but I’m sure rock stars have a different score sheet #steve harington #eddie munson #steddie #famous eddie munson #platonic soulmates stobin #stobin #steddie ficlet #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #robin buckley #helpimstuckwriting

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ihavemanyhusbands · 6 months ago

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Fantasies

Also on AO3

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Escort!Fem!Reader

WC: 2.6k words

Summary: I've done escort!Cooper, so I thought i'd try the inverse ;) // Your favorite regular, the Ghoul, drops by at the Atomic Wrangler for a visit.

Warnings: MINORS DNI THIS FIC IS 18+, crossover (fallout new vegas and fallout tv show), smut, formalized sex work (prostitution/escort), unprotected p in v, radiated creampie (with implied radaway use), swearing, shenanigans in front of a mirror, fingering, alcohol mention, vague dom/sub dynamics, just a little fluffy, two fools who can't get enough of each other, lmk if anything else!

-------

The Atomic Wrangler was just as he remembered — swimming in smoke, as if lost in a hazy dream, the ringing of the slot machines and the clacking of dice an accompanying symphony. Drunken patrons shambling about or slumped in shadowed corners, chips spilling from their pockets. Bar fights that were quickly, and often messily, dealt with.

It wasn’t the best place to gamble, he didn’t think, especially with how well he knew the Garrett twins and their wiles. But that wasn’t the reason for his visits, anyway, so it didn’t really matter to him.

At certain tables on the main floor sat sultry figures that whispered promises of ecstatic oblivion. The deepest fantasies come true, if only for a few hours before sunrise. It was worth every cap if it was in the right company, and he happened to be very particular about who he wanted around.

He knew you usually hung in the anteroom, and he even caught a glimpse of your skin in a rather low-backed dress as soon as he rounded the corner past the front desk. James Garrett caught his eye momentarily in silent question, to which he nodded in response. That meant you’d be booked for the rest of the night – his and only his.

Since you’d transferred from the Gomorrah, you were a hot commodity around there, and therefore could charge a much higher rate. You also had the chance to pick your own clients, which hadn’t really been an option before, so you were much more exclusive because of it.

But out of the handful of regulars you’d amassed, you only had one favorite. You heard him before you even saw him, what with the telltale jingling of his spurs, and when you did see him, a slow, easy smile spread on your lips, mirroring his.

Ruggedly handsome as ever, the same easy swagger and suave edge. His hazel eyes on you felt like a promise – like a caress – and you felt a fire begin to simmer under your skin. No one had ever made you feel the way he did; How quickly he could get your blood to warm, pupils blown wide with desire. No matter how much time passed between visits, he’d become a permanent fixture in your body, impossible to forget.

“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in…” you drawled, casually leaning against the bar. “Back so soon, Cooper?”

He chuckled slightly. “Were you countin’ the days ‘til you saw me next, sweetheart?”

You shrugged one shoulder, playfully noncommittal. “Were you?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” he said, following your game. “Guess you’ll be finding out soon enough.”

You let out an amused huff, giving him a once over. “You want your usual drink?”

He nodded and you pointedly leaned over the bar for a quick word with the bartender. He noticed some other patrons craning their necks to get a better look, eyes wide as saucers at the vast expanse of exposed flesh. A few of them noticed him hovering nearby, and any who dared to make eye contact were met with a smug wink and grin.

Under his gloves, his fingers itched to touch, but he kept his hands to himself. The building anticipation would have a greater payout, he already knew, and he wanted it all to be for his eyes only.

Unfazed by the outside attention, you turned back to him with a bottle of scotch in hand and a suggestive glint in your eye.

“Lead the way, then, cowboy.”

He clicked his tongue twice for you to follow, making his way back to the main room and towards the stairs. His room — which James had given him a key to for helping with some rather pressing business — was at the very end of the hallway. It was the most spacious out of all of them, but it was sparsely decorated, only meant for temporary visits. Still, it was a nice little sanctuary for you two to escape to.

“So, what will it be tonight, hmm?” You said, setting the bottle down on top of the old dresser. “Wild cowgirl for you to tame? Or maybe you’ve got some … ailment I can take care of for you?”

You opened the closet door and took out a cowgirl costume and an old nurse’s uniform, flirtatiously raising your eyebrows at him. Many fantasies had been played out within those four walls, and you certainly didn’t mind playing a little dress-up.

“No, none of that tonight,” he said with an amused huff, sitting on the edge of the bed.

You tilted your head to one side in curiosity. “What would you have me wear, then?”

He made slow work of taking his gloves off, his eyes roaming down and then back up equally slowly until he was holding your gaze.

“Well, that’s just the thing… I don’t want you in anything at all.”

You smiled, putting the costumes away and leaning against the door as you closed it. “That can be arranged…”

You reached up to undo the top clasp of your dress, but he raised a hand to stop you.

“Woah there, I ain’t in a rush. Do it slowly…”

You complied with a small chuckle, undoing the clasp but not letting the straps fall quite yet. You turned around and then let them fall, glancing coquettishly at him over your shoulder. One corner of his lips tugged upwards in a sly grin, and he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

Without turning around, you shimmied it down your hips and heard his sharp inhale as he saw you weren’t wearing panties. You felt a flutter in your stomach at the sound, intoxicated by your effect on him. Still, you didn’t bend forward for him to get a better look at the apex of your thighs, wanting to string him along for a little while longer. He had said he wasn’t in a rush, after all.

As the fabric fell to the floor, you stepped out of it, only shoes left to discard. You grabbed a chair and sat across from him, extending your leg to rest it on his lap. Another playful grin on your lips as your hand snaked down to cover yourself in a faux display of demureness, your eyes downcast.

“I could use some help with my shoes, if you would be so kind,” you said, a sultry edge to your tone.

His eyes flicked down to where your hand was resting as he swallowed hard, but he kept his bravado close as he undid the straps of your high heels and carefully took them off. His hands caressed your calves but went up no further, almost like a test. You gave him a look that said good boy, but he found a challenge within that look, as well.

“Now, why don’t you come sit a little closer? Don’t much like how far you are right now…” he said.

You raised an eyebrow, practically halfway on his lap already. “That so?”

He patted his thighs. “Oh yeah, got a whole lotta space right here with your name on it.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you stood. But before you could straddle him, he turned you around and sat you down on himself. Affixed on the wall in front of you was a dirty full-length mirror, and he kicked the chair to one side to get a better look at your reflections.

“There we go, much better,” he said, caressing your arm with one hand until it was over the hand that you were covering yourself with. “No need to be shy now. Pretty sight such as yourself… Can’t just let you miss it.”

You squirmed on his lap, but he held you fast, burying his face in the crook of your neck and kissing the sensitive skin there. You let him remove your hand and spread your legs, arching against him as his fingers lightly traced your inner thighs.

“You sure don’t waste any time,” you said, trying to sound teasing, but you couldn’t help a small gasp as he cupped one of your breasts with his free hand.

“Somethin’ about you, darlin’… just can’t seem to keep my hands to myself when I’m around you,” he rasped, nipping your shoulder with his teeth.

Slowly, his hand slipped further up, past your sternum and your throat. His fingers dipped past your lips and your tongue circled around his digits, a low hum in your chest.

“Go on, get those nice and wet for me,” he said, craning his head to look at you, hips bucking upwards as he felt the sudden suction of your mouth on his fingers. He groaned, his voice raspy as he spoke again.“Oh, just like that, sweetheart.”

You moaned, his fingers pressing down on your tongue for a moment before releasing. His hand immediately dipped down, his hips adjusting so he could keep your legs spread over his. When his fingers found purchase, you felt it surge through you, your back taut as a bow.

“Holy fuck, Cooper.” You gasped.

He chuckled smugly. “Didn’t I tell ya you’d find out soon enough?”

The words melted away before you could try to respond. Your eyes fluttered shut, head tilting back against him. He grasped your chin with his other hand, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

“Keep those pretty eyes open, darlin’. Don’t you wanna see how I’m makin’ you feel so good?”

You complied with a nod, your eyes training on your reflection. The sight of his hand’s slow, methodical ministrations on your clit, spreading your glistening slick through your folds, stoked the fire burning low in your belly.

Your eyes met his through the mirror, the intensity in his gaze nearly making you shudder. He kissed your shoulder and nipped gently at the junction where it met your neck. You squirmed against his grip, pleasure intensifying almost to the point of overstimulation.

Your voice was shaky as you said, “I-I think I’m getting close already… Fuck…”

“That so?” He hummed thoughtfully. “Better not look away again, then, ‘cus if you do, I’ll stop.”

Your brows furrowed as you tried to glare at him through the mirror. “You’re so mean.”

He chuckled, taking it as a challenge to be even meaner. His hand found a quick, sloppy rhythm that nearly had your body going into overdrive. You could feel his cock straining in his pants against your backside, heard his barely contained groans in your ear as he made sure you didn't break eye contact. The slight humiliation of watching yourself come undone – so wanton and desperate – tinged with the threat of him stopping, finally toppled you over the edge.

With a cry, your muscles seized up as you felt heat spiral outwards from your core. He worked you through it, even as your legs shook and your knees tried to draw close. In the aftermath, your body went slack against him, your breaths coming out in ragged pants. You smiled at each other mischievously through the reflection.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I can’t say I hate it…” You said, chuckling weakly.

“Oh, and that was just the start of it,” he said, voice husky. “I’m nowhere near done with you… Or did you forget how long our nights usually are?”

“How could I ever forget?”

You slid off his lap and knelt in front of him, eyes glittering as you reached to undo his pants and pull them down. But before you could even try to get your mouth on him, he hoisted you up and onto the side of the bed on your stomach. You let out a small yelp of surprise, the tips of your toes barely touching the floor as he positioned himself behind you.

“God, are you just not gonna let me do anything to you?” You teased, resting your head sideways to glance at him from the corner of your eye. “I want to touch you, too, you know.”

“You’re forgetting this is my fantasy,” he said, clicking his tongue. “And what I want right now is to make this body of yours feel as good as I know how to. Ain’t gotta do much else but let me spoil you.”

You felt him press against you, the textured skin of his cock sliding against the swell of your ass. You wiggled it a bit, half plead and half tease, eager for the stretch and weight of him inside you. You felt his hands spreading you from behind, getting a better look. A low, rough groan and he couldn’t take it anymore, notching against your entrance and pushing inside.

You moaned loudly at the immediate stretch, feeling every inch. Your torso lifted, but one of his hands came to rest on your head, pushing you back down against the mattress. With his other hand, he gripped one of your hips tightly, both possessive and ardent.

“Fuck, you’re nice and tight, sweetheart,” he rasped. “Feels so good squeezing around my cock.”

Your walls fluttered around him as if in response to his praise. He sucked in a breath through his teeth, exhaling it slowly to keep his composure. He leaned more of his weight on top of you, his thrusts hard and slow, punching breathy sounds out of your throat every time he bottomed out. You tried to get a better footing but to no avail, instead surrendering to his mercy. Or lack thereof, as it were.

The sounds you were making were loud and unrestrained, like two animals mad with spring fever. Flesh slapping against flesh, breath, and teeth, and sweat intermingling. His body pushed and pulled over you with the intensity – the violence – of rolling waves. God, you had missed this a little too much.

“C-Cooper,” you whimpered, unable to say anything else.

“That’s it. Just let go and give it to me, doll,” he panted, his movements harder and faster.

You felt yourself dissolve once more, eyes rolling back into your skull as you squeezed tight around him. He made a strangled noise, pushing through for as long as he could until he felt ecstasy wash over him as well. His warmth filled you, pushed deep inside by a few last shallow thrusts.

When he pulled out, you barely had time to catch your breath, unable to help a dizzy laugh. He pounced back on you soon after, when you’d playfully tried to crawl away from him.

It was perhaps a good thing the room had so little furniture, given that you probably would have destroyed it all, anyway. No corner was left untouched as you two seemed to play an unending game of cat and mouse that always ended the same way… only in different positions.

“You’re gonna be the death of me!” You said, collapsing on one side of the bed and tucking a pillow between you as a barrier.

He chuckled, lying on his side facing you. “Tough luck, sweetheart. Sure don’t seem like the sun will rise any time soon…”

“So that’s how it is, huh? What if I get you next?”

He smirked, a primal edge to the curve of his lips. “You can certainly try, but you better move fast, ‘cus that barrier ain’t gonna protect you from me for long.”

You bit your lip to contain a grin, feigning being aghast. Still, though, despite these threats and the imminent exhaustion, the last thing you wanted was for morning to come.

Not that you would give him the satisfaction of admitting it out loud, though. At least not unless he worked particularly hard for it…

Well, perhaps he was starting to get close enough. Maybe he would get lucky one of those nights.

-----

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #cooper howard smut #the ghoul smut #fallout fanfiction #fallout smut #cooper howard #the ghoul #minors dni

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adamstanheightsleftshoulder · 1 year ago

Text

go on, roll your eyes || adam stanheight

SMUT!!!!! (minors dni tq)

x afab!gn!reader | 2306 words

this is my first time um ever writing smut for public consumption so i would love to start off by saying i do not know what i am doing! eye yam raw dogging this <3

id also love 2 say ily 4ever hot girls love saw discord server for literally inspiring this whole thing,, enjoy spotting things we said in chat :3

Adam’s main goal is to make your eyes look directly into the back of your own head - conveniently, this is one of the things he does best. He barely has to try.

Doesn’t stop him from always giving it his all, though.

And he loves it. Loves it.

Loves the way you lose yourself, the way your head falls back and you say his name like it’s the only part of reality your brain has held onto.

It happens when you’re at the mall - and God only knows why you’re even there, neither of you particularly like the mall - as he watches you in the afternoon sun from the skylight above. Watches you like you’re his world.

For all intents and purposes, it’s been a perfectly normal and sweet afternoon.

“I’m just saying this mall wouldn’t have the reputation it does if anybody cleaned up after themselves,” You say, leaning on the food court table, “I mean look at that guy- five bucks says he gets up and leaves everything right where it is,”

“I’m not taking that bet, we both know you’re right,” Adam laughs and presses a kiss to your cheek, gentle smile on his face.

You watch as the aforementioned guy stands up from where he was eating, wipes his hands on his pants, and abandons everything on his table - six steps away from a bin.

Time seems to slow down for Adam as you roll your eyes at the sight. His eyes glaze over - you, tangled in the sheets, twitching, on cloud 9. He feels like he’s there now, buried deep in you, filling you up, his teeth sinking into your collarbone and your nails in his back.

His smile drops, his heart flutters, and… oh, there goes a rush of blood. How strange, such an innocuous motion can cause Adam to just about see stars.

“What’s up with you?” You ask, confused smile on your face. He doesn’t budge. He’s white knuckled, gripping the table. “Seriously, Adam, what’s going-“

But you recognise that look in his eyes. You know the way his breath stutters.

Adam is falling apart. There is a tent growing under that table.

Suddenly a warm, trembling hand is on your wrist and you’re being dragged away from the table, leaving everything behind (and becoming the same as the person you were just mocking).

Before you really even register you’ve left the food court and entered somewhere else, your back is against a cool tiled wall and he’s pressed against you like he’s trying to crush you.

“God, you get me so worked up, you don’t even have to try,” His voice is a low rumble, halfway between a growl and a desperate plea.

“You can’t be serious,” You whisper into his ear as he kisses down your neck, “From one little eye roll?”

Suddenly his hand is on your face, gentle but firm, holding you in place so you have to maintain eye contact.

He can read it in your eyes, you’re no good at hiding it, not from him. He’s got you wrapped around his finger by now. You want him BAD.

He smirks, drinking in the sight of you like this. He hasn’t even touched you yet.

“If that’s all you think you did, then go on,” He challenges, and as he presses himself somehow even closer to you you can feel just how rock hard he is, “Roll your eyes,”

“Make me,” You bite back, and Adam just grins.

“Oh, I intend to,”

He doesn’t give you a chance to reply. He kisses you feverishly, like he’s on death row. His left hand stays on your face and his right drifts to your hip, his fingers digging into the flesh so hard he can feel the bone under his thumb. He presses one knee in the space between your legs.

You whimper into his mouth and he groans. He knows exactly what this mix of pain and pleasure does to you. He knows that he’s ripping you into ruin.

Adam then drops to his knees, like this bathroom stall is Church and you are holy.

His eyes are wide and pleading, he looks almost hungry, like he’s been in the desert for a thousand years and you are a blessed mirage.

He looks at you like he’s going to eat you whole. In a way he is.

Adam raises his eyebrows for a second, just a twitch, as if to ask if you’re sure you want him doing this. You nod with vigour. How could you not want this? Adam and his perfect lips…

Your head falls back as he unzips your jeans, yanks them down with the gusto of someone who’s been waiting to unwrap their present for years.

Your hand finds his hair. He lets a pathetic little groan fall from his lips in response - it gets louder when your nails graze his scalp.

“God, look at you. Fucking barely holding it together,” He quips, kissing up your thighs, “Eager little whore,”

You try to speak, try to banter back; tell him he’s being mean. He swings one of your legs over his shoulder before you can, and he takes the words out of your mouth as he teases his fingers under the very edge of your underwear. He laughs low in his throat as your hips roll against nothing. He wants you so bad he could tear you to shreds about it.

“Use your words,” He breathes, “C’mon, baby. You’re not that far gone yet, talk to me,”

“Please,” Whispered like a prayer, “Please, God, Adam- Please,”

“Good enough,”

He tucks your underwear out of the way with one hand, his breath makes you quiver just a little as it hits your sensitive skin.

“Needy slut,”

One hand firmly gripping your thigh and the other allowing him access, Adam kisses along the very very sensitive inside of your thigh, until he reaches right beside the dripping wet, wanton hole that belonged, truly, to him.

Oh, yes. Adam wants you to see stars. Adam wants you to walk out of here on legs made of jelly. Adam wants to make those eyes roll.

He presses his tongue flat against that bundle of nerves he knows how to find so well, and you cry out in a strangled voice - “Adam!”. He flicks his tongue and you twitch.

Adam has never been this hard in his LIFE. His jeans are suddenly a prison. But he has to take care of you first, he has to make the risk of a public bathroom worth it.

“God you taste perfect, baby,” He whispers, and then his tongue is right back where it was a second ago.

There’s little gentleness involved. It’s like he’s trying to find a way to say he loves you, but the only way he can is through devouring.

His tongue is harsh in its flicking, in how he focuses hard on your already sensitive clit, the way his nose gets pressed against you makes you worry he might hurt himself - but there’s no sign of him stopping. If anything he’s getting worse.

Every noise you make eggs him on. Tentatively at first, he presses one long finger inside of you. When your back arches off the tile, you feel the way he moans, before he pulls the first one out only to add a second finger.

He’s like clockwork. You manage to find the will to look down again, to find he’s closed his eyes, focussed.

He curls a finger inside of you, and you’re ashamed to admit how close you are to coming undone already. You don’t have to admit it though, Adam knows. He can feel you clenching around him, and if he had the brains right now to do it he might just laugh at how desperate you are.

His fingers pound now, setting a pace that is quick and even but rough. Adam needs you. Adam could cum in his jeans right now from the way you squirm on his fingers alone.

You rock back and forth against his face and he just about loses his mind. HIS eyes are in danger of rolling back. He eats you out like a man starved, like he’s begging for more despite being the one in control.

It takes you over before you realise you’ve reached that point - no warning, and you’re jerking back and forth, a twitching mess, fingernails in his scalp - and you cum. It washes over you, and you have to grab Adam’s shoulder for stability.

If he didn’t know any better, if he didn’t know what you always wanted (more), he’d stop here. Thank God Adam knows better.

He retracts his fingers and watches as you clench on instinct around nothing. He wipes his mouth a little, but not enough to wipe the taste away. The taste he savours, the taste he craved and craves more often than he should ever admit.

A wreck. He’s making a wreck of you.

He stands, letting your leg fall back to where it can try to support you.

You practically fall into his firm chest, and he chuckles down at you.

“Good, hm?” He asks, as if he’s not sure, “You terrible thing,”

You can only hum in response, half sex-drunk, clinging onto him for dear life.

“Can’t get enough, can you?”

He’s teasing you? This is his fault! That asshole-

You whimper again, and he comes undone.

“Fine,” He concedes, making quick work of his own jeans, “Ready?”

You in fact started to nod before he’d even finished saying ‘ready.

And then, bliss - you feel him start to line his thick cock up with your entrance, the very tip of the head poking just inside.

You feel like you could gush just at that contact.

He kisses you quickly as he presses himself in, catching the cry of pleasure and surprise that you let out between his lips. He groans, deep in his throat - a deeply, deeply satisfied sound. Adam’s been waiting so patiently.

“Taking me so well,” his whisper fans across your face and you lose any contact with the world of words.

Adam doesn’t wait any longer because he CAN’T. He pulls himself almost all the way out, only to slam himself back in again a second later.

Adam fucks you like he hates your guts. Like he detests everything about you so much he has to rearrange your insides into something he can stand.

“A-Adam,” You choke out, and if it weren’t for the hand he’s just begun to rest on your cheek, you’d forget that he loves you. The harsh feeling of his teeth in your neck, your collarbone, your shoulder… you’d be forgiven for forgetting that he’s capable of being gentle. You roll in time with the violent pace he’s set, your hips slapping together so hard you know it’ll bruise.

“G…God,” He breathes against your now bruised neck, “You’re so good,”

Your core tightens and you know the second orgasm is coming, quickly. You cry against him, fingers digging into his back.

“Go on,”

It’s like it was a taught command. He tells you, you cum.

He’s nowhere near done yet. He’s got too much in mind. He can’t stop until you’re all but faded away from that pretty little head of yours. Until you forget your own name, but remember his.

His pace never lets up, never even pauses. You’re making sounds that are obscene, bordering on pornographic, and if Adam wasn’t so determined he’d bust right here and now.

Your head is pressed against the tile again, crying out like an animal in heat, when his hand covers your mouth and he stops moving completely.

A whine comes from you, unwillingly. You’d be embarrassed of the sound if you could be right now.

“Sh, sh sh. Someone’s going past,” He whispers, pressing his sweaty forehead to your own, “Wait, baby. Don’t want to get caught, do you?”

You shake your head but your body betrays you. Adam watches, jaw dropping a little at just how fucking perfect you are as you squirm around him. He’s still fully inside, fully sheathed. He’s hitting every place in there and he’s STOCK STILL. It feels cruel, crueller when you realise how much he’s enjoying watching you suffer in the stillness.

You whimper against his hand, and he only presses it to your face further.

“Stay quiet,”

There’s a threatening edge to his voice and it doesn’t take long to realise why. The thumb of the hand that’s not desperately silencing you reaches down and plays with your clit - you could explode at this point. He barely has to do much, you’re squirming so hard and he’s so close to letting go inside of you-

It seems he decides the threat to your privacy is gone, and your torture is over, as he kicks back into action like a machine again.

He loses himself, now, it’s his turn. The most desperate sounds you’ve heard him make echo on the bathroom walls.

“God- Fuck, fuck- baby, I- Can I- Please, please, can I- I need to, I-“ He stutters against you, getting a little sloppy but no less violent in his thrusts, “Let me fill you,”

You keen and he takes it as a green light, painting your insides white with his orgasm, and your third of the day comes crashing over you as he grunts your name.

Everything gets tensed for a moment - his fingers in the skin of your face and your hip, his jaw. His head falls to your shoulder for a second. He catches his breath, slow final thrusts pushing his own spend in and back out of you.

He looks at you now, assessing the job he did.

“You beautiful thing,” He pants, swallowing harshly, “There they go. Those fuckin’ eyes,”

#I DONT KNOW WHAt I AM DOING #richie dont look #I love you hot girls love saw discord #this is for u #especially neon skunk and vamoose #adam faulkner stanheight #adam stanheight x reader #saw fanfiction

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royallyprincesslilly · 1 year ago

Text

Title: What We Did In The Dark {2}*

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warning: Language, 18+ Mature Content, Angst, Time Jump, Flashbacks, Preggo Talk, Pregnancy Trope, First 200ish words are NSFW

Words: 5.2k

Summary: Neither of you planned any of it. You’d met by chance, and everything that happened after had to have been predestined. Now back to your own life, you find you have a special souvenir from your time in Mauritius.

Note: Italic text above the photo insert symbolizes a memory/flashback. The first 200ish words are NSFW so be aware.

As always, thank you for reading. I appreciate it!

As you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!! ❤️❤️

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

What We Did In The Dark {1} |

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 2: Comes To Light

-Y/N-

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for hours. Hell, I think I’ve wanted it since I first saw you between the flames of that bonfire. Can I?”

The feel of his fingers across your cheekbone sent sparks all through your body making you want him more than you’d ever wanted anyone in over two years. It was wild. Once his body pressed to yours, it responded immediately. The feel and taste of his lips only made the moment better. You’d never been a huge fan of kissing but with him, you never wanted to stop.

“Shit, you’re perfect,” he said.

His hands were impressively soft but still held some roughness that could be credited to hours of gripping a steering wheel. It was an interesting combo that made you shiver though it was over 80 degrees. His thumb glided over your nipple, making it pebble painfully from the need for more. Him rolling the bud of your nipple between his thumb and forefinger was the more you needed until his teeth sank into the sensitive flesh of your neck.

“You look good with this cock down your throat.”

Your mouth felt fuller than ever and the feel of him lodged in your throat should have scared you because of his size but your boldness came through instead. It took everything in you to suppress your gag reflex and it looked like he was trying everything to make you gag because it wasn’t until one slipped that he slowly pulled himself from your mouth. The look in his eyes said it all and ignited a hidden fire within you that you didn’t even know was lying dormant.

“Mmm, ride this tongue, Y/N. Show me how bad you want me.”

You felt wild, as if you’d been barred by chains your entire life with everyone you’d ever encountered, and now—this one night—this one moment you were free and completely unrecognizable. Your hips bucked against his mouth and your only thought was your pleasure and how gorgeous he looked with his lips and nose slick from your juices. You wanted to cum all over his face then kiss him until you lost consciousness.

“Y/N?”

“Y/N!?”

The loudness of your name being called made you jump. Looking around you found four pairs of eyes on you.

“Uh--,” you began before clearing your throat.

“Are you here with us?”

“Of course.”

You sat up straighter then gave them a gentle smile hoping that would smooth things over. You needed to leave them with a good impression of you.

“Okay. So with all of this, I see no reason to not move forward with the series. Since you are on board with incorporating some family-friendly content to draw in families with children I think this will be one of the best moves for not only your brand but the series. Does anyone have anything else to add?”

You glanced at your friend, and personal attorney, Villie, who lifted her notepad to you, showing you a scribbled note.

Are you all right? You majorly zoned out again.

You gave her a subtle nod and wrote your own note back.

Is everything still in my best interest?

Villie nodded and gave you a thumbs up.

“I have a question,” one of the men in suits breached.

You smiled and leaned forward giving him your full attention.

“Your brand thus far has been geared to singles and partyers who want to travel for the fun of it, you know those who are interested in drinking and living carelessly. How confident are you that you could pull off being just as interesting and entertaining to those who aren’t looking for those things and even those with children?”

You nodded, fully understanding his concern.

“Good question. Simply put I am 100% confident I can draw in a more family-friendly audience. I think one of the reasons I have such a following is because of my personality. I find a way to live carelessly doing almost anything. It really is dependent on the experience. I don’t see a reason why it would change because of my audience. We all want to have a good time and it’s possible for everyone to get a slice of what they crave while traveling.”

He nodded and looked amongst his colleagues who also nodded.

“I understand his view. I guess he sees you have no children so he is wondering how that audience will relate to you,” another exec pointed out.

This time it was Villie who spoke up. “If you gentlemen have seen a lot of her streams you can see how Y/N approaches travel. She is practically a big child herself. She easily relates to children including her nieces and nephews and even while traveling children gravitate to her. I don’t think it will be any problem at all for the shift of audience to relate to her.”

The men once again looked at each other speaking with nothing but eyes. You glanced at Villie then gave her a quick fist bump. Ever since high school, she’s had your back, which is why you didn’t think twice about making her your professional and personal attorney.

After a few more minutes of discussion, a consensus had been reached. Once you’d signed the contract and shaken the hands of the three men opposite you the meeting was adjourned, and you were now in a completely different pond. No longer would you be this travel influencer who predominantly posted on the internet you were now a travel influencer who was signed to one of the biggest travel channels on television. You were moving on up.

Your excitement was on 100. After the men left the room you and Villie did your victory dance in your seats and quietly screamed.

“Oh my god! This is a great deal for you, Y/N!”

“Couldn’t have done it without my badass attorney!”

Villie smiled then flashed imaginary hair behind her shoulder.

“I am pretty badass huh?”

“Bet your ass you are! Thank you Villie.”

You hugged each other and then stood. However when you stood an intense wave of dizziness washed across you making you drift backward.

“Woah!”

The next thing you knew Villie was beside you holding you close.

“Are you okay?”

“Wha—what happened?”

“You looked like you were falling.”

“Oh. I—I don’t know what happened. I must have stood up to quickly.”

“Are you all right? you’ve been—off for weeks,” Villie inquired.

You straightened up and pressed your hands down the front of your skirt. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. I’m probably just tired. It’s been a lot of work convincing these execs that I could do this show while keeping up with my posting schedule and the work for the travel catalog.”

Villie didn’t look convinced, but she nodded. “Things are only going to get more hectic you need to take care of yourself, Y/N.”

“I know, I know. I will. I promise.”

The two of you walked out of the room and toward the elevator discussing the plans to celebrate this major accomplishment. Once downstairs you and Villie went your separate ways with plans to meet up that night for dinner and drinks with the girls. As you drove through the city on your way downtown, you made a call to your artistic team to get updates about your catalog.

You’d worked your ass off for it, putting in the long hours of planning and the meticulous schedule you’d kept in order to hit every destination and the exhaustive list of hot spots wherever you went. That was just the tip of the iceberg though. This catalog was a multitude of months’ labor of love.

“I knew you’d call me again today,” Zavier said with a hint of tease in his voice.

You scoffed, “Of course, you’re taking lead with the team for the catalog.”

“Boo. Here I thought you just wanted to hear my voice.”

You smirked. While he had a great voice, one that was deep at the right moments, but level and clear every time he spoke, his voice was not the reason for your call. Deciding to tip-toe around Zavier’s usual banter you focused on the real reason for calling.

“How are things?”

“They are about as good as they were the last time you called to check—yesterday.”

You made a last-minute right turn and was met with a barrage of horns. Raising your hand as an apology, you focused on your conversation. “So everything looks right for launch?”

“Y/N, everything is on track. I know what I am doing, I promise. I wouldn’t have you out in these streets looking foul.”

You smiled and sighed. Zavier had been with you from the beginning of this crazy idea to put together this catalog—2 years. He’d been the one to push you toward it the whole year you’d procrastinated with it then was your number 2 cheerleader after Villie the whole last year you’d actually taken it seriously. You knew his work was solid as was his skill. You trusted him, which was something rare for you.

“I know Z, thank you. I’m just--.”

“A bit obsessive and compulsive and a whole lotta stressed? I know. What have I told you about your stress levels? Someone whose whole career is traveling and unwinding shouldn’t be as stressed out as you. Your life is literally one long vacation.”

You rolled your eyes because a lot of people thought that. They thought your life was one big party and good time and while 40% of it was the remaining 60 was anything but. It took a lot of work to be on vacation all the time. However, you never corrected anyone when they brought it up. You didn’t want to sound pretentious or ridiculous.

Just as you were about to open your mouth to say something in response, another wave of dizziness washed over you. This time you found yourself drifting sideways in the car which sent the car gearing to the right into the next lane. Before you knew what happened you’d slammed into something sending your head banging into the steering wheel and turning your vision black.

~~~~~~~

Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep.

The first thing you recognized was the steady beeping tone. You recognized the steady, rhythmic beeping. The second thing you recognized was the sudden rush of pain you felt in your head. Panic filled you and the once steady beeping turned erratic. You darted upward and immediately regretted it. Dropping back to the bed you groaned and held your head.

“Hey, hey, hey. Take it easy.”

“W—what—where am I?”

“You’re at Mount Saini Medical Center.”

More panic filled and you tried to sit up again but hands pushed you back down.

“Calm down. Lie down. You’ve been in an accident and have a mild concussion. You need to remain lying down.”

“Accident?”

Your vision finally steadied allowing you to take in the woman standing over you. Her long black hair fell around her shoulders that were clad in a lollipop printed top.

“I’m Mariah, I’m one of your nurses here.”

“How—how long have I been here?”

“Not too long, 5 hours give or take.”

You looked around and took in the hospital room you were in. The tans, clays and camel colors decorated the space giving it an earthy and Zen vibe.

“Am I--,” you attempted but the tightness in your throat prevented further speech.

“You must be thirsty,” Mariah said before walking a few feet away. When she came back she held a cup for you to take. “Water.”

You took the cup and only meant to take a small sip but instead downed the entire cup.

“Good. Remaining hydrated is important.”

“What happened? Why am I here?”

“When you were brought in the paramedics said you’d rear-ended another car and was found unconcious behind the wheel.”

You squinted your eyes trying to remember. It took several attempts, but bits and pieces came back to you confirming those details.

“Oh my god, is anyone hurt?”

“Just you. The other driver wasn’t in the car, they were parked. They were the ones who found you, got you out of the car, and called the paramedics to bring you here,” Mariah explained.

“Oh my god. I have no idea what—wait—I was dizzy all of a sudden and I must have accidentally—oh my god.”

“Dizziness is normal at this time. Because of your condition, you were immediately admitted and checked out.

You paused rubbing your temples to look at her. “Huh? My condition? What condition?”

The nurse studied you for a moment. “Yeah,” she began taking up your chart that rested in the slot at the foot of the bed. You watched her flip through the pages. “Yeah, it says here that you’re pregnant.”

Suddenly, the ringing in your ears increased until it was the only thing you could hear. Pinching the bridge of your nose you shook your head trying to clear the increasing fog in your brain.

“W—what are you talking about?”

Your voice sounded foreign to you, muffled, and stretched as if in slow motion.

“You’re pregnant. You didn’t know?”

You shook your head again ridding your ears of the ringing but that was about it. your head still felt heavy.

“P-pr—preg—no. You’re wrong.”

“On the contrary. It’s routine with everyone who comes in to run a panel, with women it includes pregnancy. It allows us to treat you better. It was a good thing we tested before running you into a CAT scan. The test was positive and after a consult with OB-GYN, it was confirmed with a Doppler,” Mariah filled in.

Your head was spinning now. She could have been speaking another language entirely because your brain was not connecting the dots.

“I—I’m--.”

“Pregnant. Congratulations.”

Once again your vision went black, and everything slipped away.

~~~~~~~

Your surroundings looked familiar when you opened your eyes. The rich earthy colors gave you a sense of calm but also warmth. To your right the view outside your window was dark and to your left you found Villie dozed off. You groaned as you tried to sit up, your head still pounding.

“Fuck,” you croaked.

The sound of your voice made Villie jolt upward her hair half slayed and half sticking up thanks to her awkward sleeping position.

“Oh my god, Y/N!”

She rushed to your side and took your hand then fired off a series of questions that your brain couldn’t quite understand in its current slightly traumatized state. On the 7th rapid-fire question, you clasped your head.

“Oh for fuck’s sake Valenza my brain is like a cracked egg right now. Slow down.”

She cotched at the edge of your bed then took a breath. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“I don’t feel okay at all. my head feels like I was Humpty fucking Dumpty.”

“They told me you got into an accident. Oh my god, babes.”

“I don’t know what happened. One minute I was fine, the next--.”

“You’re not taking care of yourself. I knew this would happen eventually,” Villie said.

She took a deep breath then squeezed your hand. “I’m glad you’re okay. They say they’re keeping you for observation mainly and if all checks out tonight they can release you tomorrow night.”

“It’s just this headache that won’t go away.”

“I got everything Villie.”

You looked across the room and saw Zavier walking inside with his hands full of bags, balloons, flowers, and other items.

“Oh god. Did you call everyone?”

“No. You were on the phone with Z when this happened. He was the one to call me,” Villie explained.

“Are you okay?”

Zavier filled in on your right side and took your hand.

“I’m all right. Little damage done.”

His hazel eyes bored into you scanning every inch of your face. His brows were creased with worry and he looked less rested than he usually looked.

“You look like shit.”

Zavier scoffed. “You’re the one to talk. Your head is wrapped like a pinata.”

You smiled but immediately regretted it.

“I brought all your favorites. I don’t know if you can have caffeine, but I brought your fave latte, and the sweetheart rolls you love from Oishi with plenty of ginger dressing.”

You gave Zavier a small smile not wanting to trigger the pain in your head.

“Thanks Z, that’s sweet of you.

“Oh you’re awake. Good. How are you feeling?”

You squinted toward the new voice, a voice you recognized from earlier. “Uh—pretty much the same.”

“Oh. How does your head feel?”

“Like it’s splitting.”

“Okay. I sent a message to your doctors to see if they can narrow down any pain medicines they can prescribe to help due to your—condition.”

It was then it all came back. Your eyes met the nurse’s and an unspoken understanding passed between the two of you.

“Condition? What condition?”

You looked at Villie then Zavier and closed your eyes. “The concussion.”

“How is she really nurse?”

“She has a mild concussion. She did bang her head pretty good, so we just want to watch that to make sure it doesn’t escalate. Oop, is that caffeine?”

All your eyes roved over to the bedside table where Zavier had placed your latte.

“Yes. A vanilla, cinnamon, caramel latte with nutmeg,” he replied.

“Oh, sorry. No caffeine for now and no sushi if it has raw fish, mercury levels you know.”

Mariah gave you a look but you didn’t quite understand it.

“Don’t worry guys, we will get her some food shortly and take good care of her.”

“Mariah?”

Another nurse dressed in traditional white scrubs entered the room.

“What is it Brooke?”

“Um, there is a man at the desk asking about one of your patients. He says he was told the woman who rear-ended him was admitted and he wanted to speak with her.”

“How did he find that out? Did you--?”

“No. HIPPA, of course not,” Brooke defended.

Mariah sighed then stood. “I’ll be right back.”

“Am I the woman?”

“Don’t worry I won’t let him near you.”

“No it’s okay. I feel horrible. Let him know I’ll cover the damages, and any medical reimbursement he may need. It is my fault after all.”

“I’ll go with you nurse. I’m her attorney. Let’s see what his intentions are showing up here,” Villie said standing and rearranging her dress.

Once the nurse and Villie left you were alone with Zavier, who pulled his chair closer and gave you his best reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry, Valenza is a shark. She’ll have this guy reimbursing you after everything is said and done.”

“Yeah, I bet. It’s my fault though. I’ll take responsibility.”

Zavier nodded. “One of the things I love about you is that you’re fair in everything you do. I’ve never known you to try to swindle someone out of something if it’s rightfully owed to them. You’ll even pay vendors who show us around destinations 5% more than their rate just because you know most tourists are assholes and don’t tip or care about their footprint in these people’s native countries. It’s—admirable Y/N.”

“Thanks Z.”

A few moments of silence passed and in those moments your brain tried to piece together everything from the last few hours. However the more you thought the more pain you felt and whenever one word echoed in your head, you had the urge to throw up. so as quickly as you began to think you stopped and went the route you were good at—distraction.

“Did you bring your laptop?”

“Nope.”

“What about your tablet. Come on, I know you don’t leave home without that thing. Show me the--.”

“Nope. There is no way in hell I’ll let you work at a time like this. Rest, Y/N.”

You sighed and pouted which had Zavier laughing.

“You look like a petulant child.”

You stuck your tongue out at him in response, ignoring everything else.

“Y/N.”

Villie’s voice drew your attention to the door where she stood with a very tall light-skinned man.

“Uh--.”

“This is Miles. He wanted to make sure you were all right after the accident,” Villie informed.

You pushed yourself up some more and fixed your gown a little as the man crossed the room.

“Hi.”

“Hi. Oh god, I’m so sorry. I feel terrible,” you began.

“No, it’s fine. I got the details from the paramedics and from what the doctors revealed. You had a medical emergency it wasn’t on purpose. I understand.”

You gave him a soft smile. “Thank you for understanding but I still feel like shit.”

“I was worried when I found you unconscious across the steering wheel. I’m by no means a doctor but I tried the best I could to stop the bleeding.”

“That was you? Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Miles added.

“Look I will pay for the damage done to your car and anything else.”

He scoffed. “You weren’t kidding Ms. Chord. She really is self-sacrificing.”

“To a fault,” Villie teased.

You recognized a glint in her eyes as she spoke to him and made a note to bring it up later. Was she shooting her shot out there to smooth things over or was this real interest? You looked over the man taking in his tall, lanky frame that looked muscular but not obsessively so. The tattoos on his hands hinted that there was more to the picture though he dressed in a mix between street and business casual. He looked just like Villie’s type.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I insist. Please give Ms. Chord your information and we’ll talk once I’m released, or the two of you could work things out,” you wing-womaned.

Miles smiled and looked back to Villie who also smiled while twirling the ends of her hair. Oh, she was feeling him alright. Villie motioned her head to him and the two of them left together.

“Villie would be the only one to find a date from your accident,” Zavier joked.

You couldn’t help but laugh even though seconds later you regretted it.

2 hours later brought the end of visiting hours and it was then you were truly alone. The silence in the room was deafening. So deafening the voices that spoke in the silence all said the same thing.

“What the fuck!?”

You were pregnant. Not suspected pregnant, or possibly pregnant. You were confirmed, definitely pregnant. How in the hell had you missed this? You thought back over the last weeks trying to recall if you had a period. You thought you had but how could you have had one if you were pregnant now. The more that word came to mind the harder you worked trying to ignore the massive elephant in your head, the culprit, the other major factor in this scenario.

“No,” you said shaking your head.

You couldn’t go there. You weren’t ready to go there. You needed answers.

“Okay, so we have some meds for you. After your OB and attending huddled, they came up with something that was safe for you during early pregnancy. They also reviewed some of your bloodwork and found you severely lacking in several vitamins which could explain the increased dizziness you’ve been experiencing. So we are going to hook you up to some iron, and vitamin B12 with a mix of B complex which includes zinc, magnesium, Glutathione, Calcium, some electrolytes, and folate.”

“That’s a lot.”

“Don’t worry it’s only these two bags plus the pain medicine we will give via tablet form,” Mariah explained.

“When can I talk to the OB? I have some questions. I’m just a little confused. I had a period, or I think I did and I—I don’t know how this is possible.”

Mariah nodded. “No doubt, I paged her about an hour ago. She usually makes rounds before she leaves for the night so she should stop in tonight hopefully.”

“Hopefully is definitely. Hi, I’m Dr. Olumici, it’s nice to meet you Y/N.”

A woman of color approached you with a kind smile on her face that instantly reassured you.

“Thank God. Hi.”

She pulled up a chair but before she sat she flipped through your chart and studied the machines. “Your vitals look good, that’s reassuring. How are you feeling?”

“Apart from this headache okay I guess.”

“Good. No abdominal cramping or bleeding?”

“No.”

“Wonderful. While I don’t think anything would be wrong with the fetus I like to be safe there, especially after any car accident.”

“That’s the thing I don’t know how there is a fetus. I had a period, I had 2 actually.”

“When?”

“Last month, and this month.”

“Were they normal for you?”

“Yes. 4 days, lite to normal flow. It was all normal.”

“Hm. Mariah, can you bring me a portable ultrasound please?”

“Right away Dr. Olumici.”

Mariah walked out of the room leaving you with the doctor. She approached and proceeded to examine your abdomen. She felt around applying pressure to different parts then she moved down to your pelvic area. As she did it she didn’t speak but every so often she made an “mm-hm” sound. You didn’t know what to make of it, so you kept quiet and watched her like a hawk.

In a few short minutes Mariah returned with an ultrasound machine that she set up on your left side.

“How many times did we run blood work Mariah?”

“Twice from the same sample. Should we take new samples?”

“Let’s hold off for a moment. Okay, Y/N. We’re going to get some definitive answers right here and now. I can understand how confusing this must be and the need for even just a sliver of certainty I can understand is overwhelming,” Dr. Olumici began.

You nodded finally feeling seen and heard. You fought the tears pricking your eyes and took several deep breaths.

“First let me ask a few preliminary questions. LMP you said you’ve had them for the last two months. Okay. What about sexual activity. When was the last date for that?”

You swallowed and saw his face in your mind’s eye as clear as day.

“Um—this month would be 3 months ago.”

“So—August, okay. None since then?”

“No.”

“Was there protection in August?”

You hesitated because you knew if you said the truth—no, that they would look at you as if you were crazy.

“No judgment zone Y/N. I’m here to help you not judge you,” Dr. Olumici reassured.

“No.”

“Okay. Have you felt any pregnancy symptoms?”

“What are those?”

“Nausea, vomiting, food cravings, breast changes, fatigue, increased urination, backache, dizziness, bloating, maybe cramps, or constipation.”

You thought over the last month or two and noted several instances where you’d felt at least 4 of those symptoms but you’d chalked it up to you working so much and getting less and less sleep. You explained your circumstances to Dr. Olumici who made some notes in your chart as she nodded her head. Once the questions were finished, she sat behind the machine and prepared to get started.

After she explained what was going to happen she squirted the cold gel over your abdomen then moved the Doppler wand across your stomach. You took a few centering breaths then turned your attention to the screen and watched as the image came to life. the black and white images were unrecognizable to you. It was crazy to think you were looking at imagining from inside your womb. Technology was truly fascinating.

The room was completely silent as Dr. Olumici slowly moved the wand over every inch of your abdomen. When she dipped lower getting closer to your pelvic region the image cleared up and then your world came to a complete stop. You didn’t know what you were looking at, but you knew you were looking at something.

“Okay. Here we are. Mariah please the volume.”

Mariah tapped a button on the dashboard a few times then the room filled with quick rhythmic pounding that sounded like a heartbeat. When you realized what you were listening to, you gasped.

“This is your baby, Y/N.”

“Holy Shit!”

You’d said it louder than you’d intended and now your voice was echoing off the walls.

“Calm down. It’s okay. I’ve gone through this first moment with a lot of women. Take a few breaths. Mariah, some water please.”

Mariah poured some water from a dusty rose-colored plastic pitcher into a matching cup then handed it to you. You drank it all down as your eyes remained on the screen at the little blip that was front and center. Once the cup was empty you tried to keep your breathing steady.

“So—I’m—I’m really--,” you paused closed your eyes, and released a slow breath. “I’m pregnant.”

“Yes. You’re pregnant and looking at the fetus, I’d say you’re—currently in your third month, nearing the end of your first trimester.”

“What!”

“Interesting. You don’t look to be showing at all. There is a percentage of women who do not have symptoms or growth which hinders them from ever knowing they are pregnant. We call them cryptic pregnancies. Most women who experience them usually go their entire pregnancy never knowing because they don’t have symptoms, they continue their cycles, and they never show. It could be the same for you. Time will tell.”

Suddenly the image on the screen split in two and you sat up.

“What just happened?”

Dr. Olumici leaned closer to the machine then moved the wand lower over your pelvis and pressed for firmly.

“Huh, would you look at that.”

She tapped a few buttons then moved the wand again and repeated the series of movements 3 or 4 times.

“Someone please talk to me.”

“Yes, I’m sorry Y/N. I was so focused on making sure I didn’t miss anything or anyone. So it looks like we’re dealing with a twin pregnancy. This little one was hiding behind their sibling.”

“Twins?!”

“Twins. I want to say that they are in separate amniotic sacs which indicates fraternal twins, but I have seen identical twins in separate sacs. Depending on what you decide to do we’ll do a thorough check at your first official prenatal appointment.”

All this information was really taking its toll. You’d begun this discussion with very little pain in your head but as things progressed the pain intensified. Right now you felt as if you were having one of the worst migraines you’d ever had in your life. It was all too much, way too much at once. You’d just signed a deal for your own travel show which would mean more travel, long hours, and plenty of work, you were also doing a swimsuit and vacation wear line and a travel catalog and now not only were you currently pregnant but you were also having not one but 2 babies and all of this from 1 one-night stand where you allowed yourself to be the freest you’d ever been—the happiest you’d been.

“Fuck my life!”

This was the consequence of letting yourself live without inhibitions. This was the consequence of forming connections. This was the consequence of being carefree, the consequence of carelessness.

The consequences of what you did in the dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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