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heeseungsbm · 7 months ago

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・₊✧ Kiss Me Thru The Phone‧₊˚☏♡₊˚

lee heeseung

₊˚⊹❥pairing❥: idol ! heeseung x female reader

₊୧ ‧₊❥summary❥: the hardest part of heeseung's job was being separated from you; it drove him physically insane. he was determined to find a way to satisfy his insatiable cravings—his intense desire for you, one way or the other.

❥ genre: smut with plot, fluffy ending :)

⊹₊ ⋆❥warnings❥: sexting, heeseung is very horny, phone sex, masturbation (male & female), dirty talk, edging, fingering (female), orgasms, squirting, overstimulation, nicknames (baby, good girl).

❥ heeseung’s dialogue is in pink.

:‧₊˚ ⋅❥wc❥: 7k.

thank God, the fate tour and its excessive, completely unnecessary extensions had finally come to an end. there wasn't enough of a word to describe how relieved heeseung felt to be done.

don't get him wrong, heeseung loved being an idol. he loved the rush of adrenaline he got from performing in sold out shows, and having hundreds of thousands of beautiful girls losing their composure over him was quite the ego boost.

but tour? uh uh. not heeseung's thing.

while it was an amazing experience in many ways, it had its dreadful downsides; the lack of sleep, the pounding headaches from jet lag, the body sores and bruises from practicing for hours and hours on end, leaving him with literally no energy for anything else. privacy was practically nonexistent, it'd become a distant memory. heeseung literally had no space to himself. everything was a group activity.

however, not seeing you for months was the worst, most agonizing part of it all. who would want to be away from their girlfriend for nearly half the year, and then the longest time they'd get to be with her was 2 weeks? sure you guys made it work, but that didn't make it any less torturous.

at the end of the day, when the arenas went empty and the stage lights grew dark, heeseung was a male with hormones. a man who got horny, just like any other. nothing could fulfill his desires the way you did, he absolutely hated not being able to have sex for long periods of time.

of course there were quick and easy alternatives he could've ran to, but unlike his members who had numerous one night stands and groups of girls signing NDAs to give them a good time in their hotel rooms, heeseung didn't care to fuck anyone who wasn't you. sex to him was intimate, an expression of his passion and devotion that he only took pleasure sharing with one person.

one person he was deeply in love with, which is you.

it was hell on earth having to bust a painfully quiet nut while his members slept in the same room as him, or having to sneak away and jerk off in the bathrooms. even in heeseung's sleep, his filth lived in his fantasies past his eyelids, it's all he could dream about.

sex, sex, and more sex.

every part of you—your lips, your voice, your scent, your body, your touch. it was like a drug to him, and your absence gave him the most excruciating withdrawal. he couldn't wait for the tour to end so he could finally be with you, even if it was just for a little.

he was sick and tired of cumming in his palm.

backstage, heeseung sat criss-cross applesauce on a chair, fidgeting anxiously and taking deep breaths to try to calm himself down. enhypen had just finished their last show in japan which he was more happy about, but the whole day thoughts of you ate at his brain like acid. his erection would not go down for the life of it, no matter how hard he tried.

he did push ups, played mobile games to try and distract himself, but nothing was working. he was so fucking horny that he couldn't think straight, and his body language spoke louder than words.

the more he fed the thought, the more he realized there was one thing he could do. heeseung kept an entire folder in his phone, loaded with your explicit photos & videos for when he desperately needed to get off. you are the only thing that made him incredibly hard, and the only thing that led him to actually finish. he had no interest in porn, it needed to be to you.

he was helpless and desperate, discreetly covering the unsettling sensitivity in his lap. his heart raced rapidly and he felt like all eyes were on him, focusing on the hardening feeling that he longed to ease. after what felt like hours of contemplation, he decided to surrender to it and text you, knowing you were the only person who could fix this.

maybe he could get something new from you to use, and hopefully find a place to use it.

hello lovebug

he texted you, the ding of your phone striking you confused as you applied soap onto your back. you rinsed off your hand and reached out of the shower curtain for your phone to see who it was.

no other than your boyfriend, of course.

oh hey, you're done for the day?

heeseung sat eagerly waiting for your response, his eyes glued to the screen. when your message came through quickly, he let out a sigh of relief, happy that the wait wasn't long.

thank fucking goodness i am😂

are you busy rn tho baby?

the bubbles indicating typing appeared, and after a few seconds your messages sent.

😂hope it went well

and kind of, in the shower

a sly smile spread across heeseung's face, flashbacks of your naked body gleaming with water running through his mind from when you last showered together.

oh wow

can you do me a favor?

his teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he waited in anticipation.

sure what's up

you didn't even have a chance to place your phone back down before you heard another ding, he was replying unusually fast.

can you make me a video while you're in there?

your eyes widened at his text, a mix of surprise and intrigue coming over you at his request.

omg

ok, but what kind? lol

heeseung chewed his inner cheek at your question, thinking of what to say back. he knew exactly what he wanted to see, he just didn't want to come across as... obnoxious.

anything baby

just something to cum to, if that's okay with you?

typical heeseung, always asking for nudes. you didn't mind giving him what he wanted though, it gave you a sense of empowerment and validation to be able to fulfill his need for you with just the simple sight of your body.

you grabbed some more shower gel and squeezed a generous amount of the fruity substance onto your chest, rubbing the suds to create a lather. you posed as you took selfies with your tits in the frame, recording a couple clips for him seductively massaging your bubbly boobs, showing different angles to flaunt your soapy body. after picking the best ones, you pressed send and resumed your shower.

Attatchments: 5 Images, 2 Videos

enjoyyyyy😘😘😘

heeseung felt his phone buzz twice on his thigh as he impatiently shook it on the chair, sending a wave of butterflies straight to his tummy. he scanned his surroundings, and thankfully everyone was busy having their own conversations and doing their own things. but just to surely make sure nobody was looking, he covered the side of his phone screen with his hand as he opened your messages.

damn.

his face lit up at how much you'd spoiled him, gawking at your pretty face complimented by your wet hair, and your plump boobs covered in bubbles. he looked like a dumb dog, his eyes stuck and his lips parted, almost drooling as he watched how your hand fondled your tits.

you're so sexy

i wish i could fuck you right now

he could feel his face getting hot, his palms growing warm and sweaty. his dick pulsed in his pants, he needed to find somewhere to be alone, and soon. otherwise, he was going to cum in his pants.

"hyung, are you okay?" jake asked as he came up from behind, noticing the red flushing of his friend's cheeks and the jittering of his thigh.

heeseung flinched dramatically, nearly dropping his phone on the ground in the process. he quickly shut his phone off and placed it face down on the table, hoping to God that jake hadn't been standing there for long,

"you seem extra tense today," he teased, placing a hand on his elder's shoulder. "your cheeks are as red as a tomato."

"do not fucking touch me," heeseung hissed, removing jake's hand off his shoulder. he released the tension in his body by cracking his neck on both sides, then his knuckles one by one.

"sheesh. somebody needs their dick sucked.." jake joked, bursting into laughter at heeseung's uptight behavior.

well, he wasn't wrong. that's exactly what heeseung needed, actually.

"oh yeah, you wouldn't believe what happened to me earlier," jake exclaimed, his voice full of enthusiasm. "these two girls were hanging out in the lobby, and they would not leave me alone! until i let them give me a 2 for 1 special, if you know what i mean," he elbowed heeseung, a playful grin on his face. "never came so fast in my life. one was twisting with her hand, while the other was sucki—"

"will you shhhhh!" heeseung silenced jake, placing his hand over his mouth. he wanted to gag, he was disgusted by the thought of rotating between multiple girls for pleasure. "im on the phone with my mom, you freak," he quickly came up with a lie, removing his hand from jake's mouth. "do you know somewhere i could take the call, privately?"

jake chuckled, because obviously he wasn't a fucking dumbass. heeseung was the freak here.

"there should be an empty dressing room a few doors down from here. it's down the hall, the third silver door on the left," he said, pointing in the direction of the exit. "hope you and mom have fun," jake shot a wink, before scurrying off to continue flirting with backup dancers.

gosh, what a freak.

heeseung sighed in relief once jake left, thankful that his lie cut the conversation short. it was suffocating having to interact with anyone when thoughts of you would corrupt his mind, especially with someone as oversharing as jake. he got up from his chair and made his way out of the backstage area, squeezing between cameramen and staff, reciting the directions jake gave him in his head.

back at home, you finally finished your shower and skincare, moisturizing your body with butters to seal your routine. you threw on some pink lace panties and a soft silk robe heeseung bought you not too long ago and you entered the room you and heeseung shared, lighting a few vanilla-scented candles, casting a warm glow across the room and adding a gentle fragrance to the air. with the lights dimmed, you yawned in fatigue as you made your way to your queen-sized bed, diving into its cozy embrace.

even with the room clean and your body refreshed from your shower, you couldn't shake the emptiness you felt without heeseung's presence. you missed the nights he would come to bed and shower your neck with kisses, how he'd hug you tight from behind until you fell asleep. your eyes fixated on his empty side of the bed, a pang of loneliness striking your chest. you moved closer to his pillows and clutched them tightly, as if they could somehow fill the void he left behind.

meanwhile, halfway across the globe, heeseung stood outside what he believed to be the place jake recommended. he frowned as he examined the blank door in front of him, how weird that it had no label, and not even a handle. but it was in fact, the only 'third silver door on the left'. with uncertainty he pushed it open, quietly creeping in and letting it close behind him.

empty dressing room? way to lie to a lie, jake.

heeseung stumbled through the crowded darkness, blindly swatting away at hangers of clothes as they grazed his face. he hugged his body with his sleeveless arms as the AC blasted painfully cold air, and to make his matters worse, there was no light switch. well, at least to his knowledge after feeling around for one. this was clearly not a dressing room, more like an ... abandoned closet.

with the help of his phone's flashlight, heeseung managed to make his way to the very back, the area thankfully warmer behind a rack of performance costumes. he could not believe he'd sunken this low; going all this way to masturbate in such an ominous room like this. but at the same time, anything would be better than walking around with the sexual urge that plagued him all day.

he resigned himself to sitting on the floor, sighing as he sank against the wall. he unlocked his phone and went to your messages, his thumb hovering over the screen as he checked to see if you replied to any of his previous texts.

he scoffed in a bummer, no text back.

heeseung's mind started to race with possible explanations; maybe you were just asleep. or maybe you were flat out ignoring him, he couldn't help but wonder if he had gone too far with his request for nudes. but his desire for you consumed him, heeseung ached to hear your voice and feel closer to you, even if it meant connecting purely through the phone.

to tell the truth, he'd been fantasizing about having phone sex with you for as long as he could remember. he always craved the idea; how good it would feel to listen to you touch yourself while he did the same, how pretty you'd moan for him, how it wouldn't take long to make each other cum. he thought it was the least you two could do with the distance, he just never knew how to ask.

the need coursing through his body was intense, the only chance he'd have to make his fantasy a reality was now, alone in this closet. who knew how it was ever going to go, but it was worth a try. he began texting you again, in hopes of fast replies like before.

you were lying in bed on twitter, how coincidental that you were searching for a new fancam of heeseung, unaware that you had him on delivered. his flurry of new notifications put an end to your scrolling, literally making you freeze in place.

hey

are you still up baby?

please call me if you are

your heart began to pound out of your chest, your pupils dilating at the words "call me". it'd been roughly a month since you were able to, due to heeseung's hectic schedule and all the time zone differences. at least at the start of his career you two were able to text and facetime throughout the day, he even fell asleep on the phone with you every night. but now that enhypen's popularity was increasing rapidly, you and heeseung barely had any time to talk consistently.

like, ever.

after multiple sets of deep breaths and practicing how cutely you'd speak, you clicked his contact and looked away as you pressed call. you couldn't bear to look at the screen as the phone rang for what felt like eternity, your stomach cartwheeling as you waited for him to answer.

heeseung sat in the dark, his phone serving as his only source of light as he looked through his collection of you, trying to find whatever would help him get off the best. suddenly, his screen flashed and he squinted as it abruptly brightened up his face, following his loud ringtone.

shit, it was you.

with no hesitation, heeseung swiftly swiped the green button to answer, bringing the phone to his ear. he cleared his throat as the call began, with the biggest smile on his face.

"hey, baby," heeseung greeted you.

that sweet word, baby. it was like a warm hug and a loving kiss intertwined into one, it made your insides melt every time. "hello mr. celebrity," you playfully said back into the phone, curled up on his side of the bed. "what are you up to?"

heeseung laughed at your playfulness, your honeyed voice immediately sedating him. he'd missed it terribly. "nothing much, i've just been thinking about you. nothing new, right?"

he sounded so gentle and velvety, making you more shy than usual. to be fair that's how heeseung always made you feel, everything with him gave you first time nerves. "i've been thinking about you too, babe," you confessed.

"how are you feeling?" he asked you, his speech smooth. "it's late over there, isn't it? did you eat dinner yet?"

you sighed. "well i guess i'm okay, you know. just waiting for you to come home." you couldn't help your uncontrollable smile, you felt like a middle school girl on the phone with her crush. "and i had a chicken cesar salad for dinner, with a strawberry-banana smoothie."

"ahh. that's good baby, sounds yummy. we had really good catering today, i thought you would've liked it," heeseung happily shared with a smile. no matter where he was, there was always something that made him think of you, in some way shape or form. "i really wish you could've been here with me, y/n. all i am without you is stressed."

you pouted, also sad that you had to stay home. the plan was for you to come along with him, but the company didn't want to risk heeseung's personal life getting leaked to the public. you spoke back, "well, i'd imagine all the dancing you do helps relieve some of that stress? no?"

heeseung rotated his neck that was sore from performing, placing his hand on the nape of it. "well yes, but no... not enough." you could hear the distress in his voice as it rasped. "honestly, i'm feeling a bit crazy right now."

dear God above please forgive me, you mentally implored as arousal began coiling within you. and how terrible, heeseung was simply just expressing himself. but damn did he sound good, his voice was deliciously hoarse. something about him sounded so captivatingly different, you just couldn't put your finger on it. whatever it was, you can't lie.. it had you squeezing your thighs together.

you spaced out as he kept talking, staring at the spinning ceiling fan above you. the line soon went silent thanks to your trance, causing heeseung to worry. "um, y/n... h–hello?"

"oh! im sorry," you quickly apologized, coming back to reality. you took your phone off your ear and put him on speaker mode, sitting more upright against the headboard of your bed. "im here, babe. you just... you sound really good."

heeseung smiled to himself, taking great pride in your compliment. "you like how i sound, huh?"

"mhm," you hum in agreement. "i missed your voice."

"i miss you, just.. everything about you." he sounded low and sultry, sending a chill down your spine. "i really wish i could touch you right now."

the corners of your lips curved into a smile at the thought of heeseung's perfect hands, how big they were compared to everything on your body. you missed his touch so badly. "i miss you so much more," you replied, filled with longing. "wish you could touch me too."

those words were just what heeseung wanted to hear, and he was trying so hard to not unzip his jeans and jerk off while you talked. he desperately wanted to tell you how hard you were making him, how bad he wanted to cum, how bad he wanted to listen to you fuck your fingers on the line. but he knew that needed to ease into it gradually, like a gentleman.

heeseung moved his hand underneath his sleeveless top to smooth it over his lower stomach, trying to relax. "you're in bed, right? what are you wearing?" he asked, hoping it was little to nothing.

it caught you off guard, wondering what he could possibly do with that information. "yeah, oh, uhhh... one of the robes you sent me for my birthday," you tell him, your fingers idly playing with the string of your robe.

"oh," he raised a brow, picturing your bare body in the silk. "so, nothing else? just the robe, baby?"

"well, if you're not counting underwear, then i guess.." you nonchalantly replied, looking at your nails.

"mmm, i really like that." heeseung bit his lip, thinking of all the pretty undergarments you'd wear to bed. the lace, cheeky underwear that you'd wear turned him on so much, he always insisted you kept them on while he fucked you. "they're pink, aren't they? your panties, i mean."

"mhmm, they are," you responded with a big smile, as he was surprisingly right. "wow, you know me so well."

"i do, don't i," he smirked. but his cocky smile deliberately faded as he remembered where he was, and how he didn't have much time. he had to get this whole thing over with before someone went looking for him, and found him. "i need to tell you something, baby. it's been on my mind for a while."

"oh, um..." the suspenseful tone in his words scared you. it felt dramatic, like he was about to break up with you or something. "well go on, please."

"well, there's really no other way to say this, so." heeseung began, his voice deepening lower than before. "i really miss having sex with you, y/n." he continued, little more confidence in his voice, "since we won't be able to see each other for a while, i was wondering if you'd be interested in trying something."

phew. why the hell was that so hard? he felt like a bulldozer had been lifted off his body.

the way heeseung spoke was rich and penetrating, his voice sending a pulsing feeling to your core, making you clench around nothing. "oh i—i miss it too," you agreed shyly, nearly spacing out again. your mind was flooding with the filthiest flashbacks of those unforgettable, sinful nights of that only the two of you knew about. "what did you want to try?" you asked him with a curious tilt of your head.

heeseung took a deep breath, hoping you'd welcome his proposal. "phone sex," he cleared his throat. "... what do you think of the idea?"

fuck he sounded so hot, goodness gracious. God help you again.

you didn't expect heeseung to ask you something like that, considering the fact that he'd never done anything like that in front of you before. yes, you guys had sex, and he clearly used his hand when he needed to. but you'd never self pleasured together before.

finally, you managed to find your voice after a long pause, your words coming out in a soft, shaky tone. "you... you want to try having it?" you asked, your fingers tracing the contour of your thigh to ease your nerves.

"i do, but what about you, baby? would you like to?" heeseung waited patiently, praying in his mind that you'd say yes. the denim of his jeans brutally outlined the shape of his cock, it was begging to be freed from his boxers.

"to be honest, im not sure how well i can do it," you vulnerably admitted. "it might not be as good as you're hoping for."

but the throbbing between your legs grew stronger as you considered his offer, your mind racing with indecision. heeseung clearly really wanted to try, and it couldn't hurt to experiment a little. you took a deep breath, the thought of pleasuring him outweighing your uncertainty. "since it's for you, we can try."

heeseung was beyond thrilled that you agreed, more than happy. but he knew you more than anyone, and he felt concern at the slight hesitation he could sense. he wanted to make sure you truly felt comfortable, it was important to him for both of you to enjoy it.

"don't feel nervous, i'll be here to guide you through it. you can trust me, okay?" he gently assured you, soft but somehow authoritative. "if at any point you don't like it just tell me, and we can stop."

you smiled at heeseung's reassurance, the nervousness immediately leaving your body at his consideration. "you're so sweet. don't worry, i want to. i trust you," you assured him. "we can start now, if that's what you wanted."

heeseung let out a sigh of relief, feeling calm after hearing your affirmation. "great," he replied, the corners of his lips curling slightly. "give me one second."

he unzipped his tight-fitting jeans, feeling a sense of freedom at finally being able to relax. he reached for his aching cock out of his Calvin Klein boxers, groaning as it sprung straight up and slapped his stomach. his precum spilled from his pink, cut tip, he gulped down a thick swallow of air as he spread the leakage across the head with his thumb. "are you comfortable?"

"mhmm," you hummed, pulling the covers over your lower body, seeking warmth and privacy even though there was no one to hide from.

"close your eyes for me baby, i want you to imagine me there from now on. just trust me, it'll feel better with them closed." heeseung wrestled the impulse to jerk his impressive length that stood proud in his lap, but he wanted to get you going first. "are they closed yet?" he asked you, closing his own.

you closed your eyes, the darkness making his voice seem even more seductive. "mhm, they're closed."

heeseung's breath hitched slightly at the sound of your compliance. "good, baby. i want you to focus on my voice, nothing else matters. okay?"

"okay," you tell him, your heart racing faster now, the intimacy of the moment heightened by your inability to see.

"touch your body for me," heeseung muttered huskily, authority in his voice. "you know where to touch first, right baby?"

"mhm, i think so." you gasped as you slipped your hands inside the silky fabric of your robe, your fingers trailing gently along the sensitive skin of your neck before moving to run along your collarbones, then downwards to gently caress your bare chest.

"where are you touching, love?" he sweetly asked.

"my tits," you responded, massaging your tender breasts and playing with your hardened nipples between your fingers.

"mmm, good girl. spread your legs for me," he lowly instructed, spitting a long glob of saliva onto his cock and smoothing it around the length as he felt it drip down, giving the shaft a firm hold with his fist. "move your hand to where you want me to touch you, baby."

your body responded to his commands like a puppet on a string, unable to resist his allure. you were on your back, slightly propped up by pillows as you opened your legs, wandering your hand down to land between your thighs. "okay, i did," you quietly replied.

"you want to touch it so bad, don't you baby?" heeseung taunted you, his teasing revealing your own longing to touch your sensitive flesh through the fabric. "wanna play with your pussy so bad for me."

"yes please," you begged him. "please let me."

"you can baby, you can touch for me." heeseung granted you permission, and he could already hear a change in your breathing, it became shaky within seconds.

you rubbed your covered pussy, pressing down right where your clit was swelling. your folds left a big puddle on the thin material, your underwear entirely soaked, absorbing all of your arousal. "heeseung," you softly moaned his name as you groped your wetness, "my panties, they're ruined."

heeseung threw his head back against the wall, the thought of your pussy being so wet that it seeped through your panties made his cock grow painfully harder, harder than it already was. it pulsed violently, throbbing as it cried to be stroked up and down. "you wanna be a good girl and touch your pussy for me?" he asked, his voice deep and saturated with his need to touch himself.

your voice cracked as you answered, "yes, want to touch so bad."

heeseung could cum off of how sweet and submissive you sounded right now alone. "go ahead and touch baby, tell me what you feel."

you slid your fingers underneath the damp fabric and massaged the surface of your folds, your stickiness glazing your fingertips. "im wet, i'm really wet."

"that's perfect, baby." his tongue darted out to wet his lips, visualizing running the head of his cock between the wet lips of your pussy. "touch your clit and play with it."

your body twitched as you began to toy at your sensitive bundle of nerves, teasing yourself like heeseung would with his perfect fingers. you took deep, trembling breaths against the mic of your phone, turning heeseung on so much on the other side.

he let out a sharp moan as he finally glided his hand up and down his wet dick, applying immense pressure to his sensitive tip. he didn't need lube, his precum and saliva were just enough. "can you hear it, baby? stroking my cock for you, just for you." he grunted, lowering his phone and bringing the mic near his hands, allowing you to hear every wet, sloppy sound of the friction.

you whined, rubbing delicate circles on your clit as you listened to the slipperiness of his cock. "shhh...it. f-fuck," your teeth sunk down on your bottom lip, in slight shame of cursing.

heeseung's fist rhythmically twisted around his cock, his chest rising and falling heavily with each lubricious stroke. his thigh muscles spasmed at the heavenly, warm sensation from his hand, his toes tingling in his shoes. it felt so fucking good to finally be able to jerk off. but still, nothing compared to how you felt. "put your fingers in your fucking pussy." he demanded it of you, more than ready to hear it.

with your imagination fixated on the thought of heeseung's cock in place of your fingers, you carefully teased your tight entrance, sticky and slick from how bad you wished he was home to fuck you. you hissed as you pushed one in, then another, deeply past your tight walls.

your soft moans let him know that your fingers were inside of you, and heeseung smiled to himself at your obedience. "i need you to talk to me, baby. does it feel good? feel good to finger your pussy for me?"

"feels s-so good," you trembled, spreading your legs further apart as you gradually slid your fingers in and out of your hole. your mouth hung open at the immense pleasure, it was blissful to finally have something penetrating you after so long—you hadn't touched yourself since he left for tour.

heeseung routinely licked his lips as he steadily stroked his cock, your whines and whimpers into the phone bringing him a different type of contentment. he wanted to hear more, he wanted to feel like he was there making you feel good. "moan for me some more, baby."

just the sound of his voice alone guiding you was stimulating, it was hypnotizing. you were completely under his spell, and in your current state, there was nothing you wouldn't do if he asked. you pumped your 2 fingers deeper, moving them in and out of your tightness with care as you let yourself get louder. "miss you, miss the way you fuck me," you whined, trying your best to sound as pornographic for him as possible. "im ... so tight," you squealed, searching and exploring for that sweet spot that he always reached.

"yeah?" heeseung jerked himself off with a more firm grip around his girth, attempting to mimic the tightness of your wet cunt. "tell me, tell me how tight you are for me."

"im so wet, and tight for you," you shakily moaned into the mic as you fingered your pussy, the squelching driving him crazy. "just for you, hee." you switched back and forth between fingering yourself and massaging your tits for more simulation, taking your fingers and spreading the wetness on your nipples, then fucking them back into your pussy.

"such a good girl. keep playing with your pussy for me baby, just like that." heeseung praised you as his adam's apple moved up and down in his throat, breathlessly talking you through your pleasure.

he took his lower lip between his teeth and sucked on it, his breathing growing increasingly heavier. his right hand weakly held his phone against his ear to hear you whilst he thrusted his hips upwards, fueling his desperate grinding into his left hand. he was still a little paranoid about someone coming in and busting him for doing something so immoral, so nasty, but he wanted to vocally please you the best he could. so, he didn't back any sound that came from his throat.

you could hear the ruffling of heeseung fucking up into his hand, it was so intense that you could've sworn you started to feel it. the vulgar profanity that left his lips made your pussy so wet and slick, you completely melted into the mattress at the sound of his filth against your ear.

you couldn't believe how quickly the phone call had changed within a matter of just 7 minutes, here you were playing your pussy on the phone while heeseung moaned like his life depended on it.

you physically couldn't stop, and neither could he on the other side. heeseung relished his salacious fantasy, his mind entirely fogged with lust for you. he never wanted it to end, because you sounded so good. it made his cock so fucking hard, how he was the only one who got to hear you this way; so cute, whiney and breathless, so desperate for him without his touch.

"oh my g—fuck me," you moaned, pumping your fingers faster into yourself. "you're gonna make me cum," you quivered as you pleaded for him, cream dripping from your hole and wetting your sheets.

heeseung let another warm pool of drool fall from his mouth onto his dick, reminiscing how moist and warm you felt in his head, his wet hand picking up the pace. he could feel it in his stomach; he was going to explode if he kept stroking himself at this speed. as torturous as it felt, he slowed down his hand's movements, choking on air as he occasionally let go of his cock to edge it and reserve the buildup.

you tortured your clit with the tips of your creamy fingers, the pleasure becoming so overwhelming that a tear rolled down your cheek. "hee, i-i'm gonna cum," you faintly whimpered, your clit starting to feel too sensitive to touch.

"cumming already, baby?" he let out a stifled moan, his primal desire for you to cum surging. "good girl, cum all over your fingers."

you'd never heard heeseung be this vocal, but you completely submerged in it, loving how careless and expressive he was being. it was a side of him you hadn't known before, and you couldn't get enough.

he mumbled profanity under his jagged breaths and begged you to cum for him, his fist fucking his hand with more force to the thought of being inside you. he could hear the speed of your fingers getting faster and faster, and all that mattered to him was that you were close to cumming—because he damn sure was.

heeseung panted, gripping himself tighter and stroking faster, so fast that his hand began to cramp. he furrowed his brows and his mouth fell wide, his nose scrunching as he felt his sweet release seconds away. "oh fuck... fuck y/n, i'm gonna cum, fuck! im—" his orgasm took over his entire body, spurts of his hot semen oozing out of his tip and dripping down his length, making a thick white mess all over his hand. he moaned in ecstasy as his cock relentlessly leaked, his abs clenching as his seed spilled onto his jeans.

it was disgusting.

you mouth salivated at the obscene sounds of heeseung reaching his peak of ecstasy, and it wasn't long before your own body succumbed to its own waves of pleasure, cumming with him at the same time. you shrieked as you uncontrollably squirted all over the bedsheets, leaving heeseung's side drenched with the liquids from your body. your legs shook violently and you could barely catch your breath, lost in the overtaking overstimulation.

heeseung was far from done, he absentmindedly pumped his cock in a slower, teasing rhythm, milking out his remaining ropes of cum to the sweet sounds of your climax. there was so much, it just kept coming and coming, and coming.

you knees so fell weak that you lost feeling in them. you gasped as you opened your eyes after seeing stars for so long, moaning with heeseung in unison as you both came down from your highs. you slowly removed your fingers out of your pussy, a string of milky wetness following as you brought them into your mouth, tasting the sinful mess you made.

"i j-just changed these sh-sheets," you stuttered as you caught your breath, still shaken from your orgasm. "i made such a mess."

heeseung also was still recovering from his intense release, his breathing heavy and rapid. he let out a long, satisfied sigh, his body relaxing and his cock falling soft as he basked in the afterglow of cumming so much. "let me see the mess you made, baby," he pleaded to see it, desperate for visual proof. "show me."

"you are so freaky," you jokingly snickered, a rasp in your voice from all of the high pitched moans that escaped your mouth. you snapped a picture of the icky mess of cum between your legs and sent it to him, closing and tying your robe back up after.

heeseung's jaw clenched as he opened the photo, his doe eyes round with awe. "woah... that's so hot." he couldn't help but run his tongue over his lips at your downward pov, the sight of the white, creamy essence on your pretty pussy making his cock twitch, despite it falling back tender. his mind raced with thoughts of you and what the two of you had just done together. "i really missed hearing you like that, you're so cute."

"oh stop," you blushed, your heart swelling with affection for him. it was reassuring to hear that he enjoyed how you sounded, you felt a bit better about your performance. "it wouldn't have been possible without you, though."

heeseung chuckled softly, a cocky grin gracing his features. hearing that from you gave him an ego boost. "it felt good, didn't it baby?" he asked, hoping you enjoyed it as much as he did. though he knew you did, there was no way you faked those noises.

"mhm, it felt really good, thanks to you." you nodded with a smile, reminiscing about it already. "i'm glad i tried something new with you."

he grabbed his softened cock that was still hot and sticky, putting it back into his boxers and zipping his jeans back up. "im glad i could help you, thank you for helping me." he mellowly replied, playing with the goopy aftermath of his own release between his fingers. "there's so much i want to do to you, baby. when i get back we'll make up for lost time, yeah?"

"yeah," you softly tell him, getting aroused all over again. you put your finger between your lips, gently nippling on it with your front teeth. a shiver ran down your spine, knowing full well how things tended to get when there was a gap of time in between seeing each other. you didn't know how much longer you could wait. you needed heeseung, you needed the real thing, your fingers could only go so far.

"okay, i have to go now. it's time for you to get some sleep anyways," heeseung said gently as he stood up from the closet floor, shivering from the pins and needles sensation in his legs from his seated climax. "i'll give you a call tomorrow. alright?"

you couldn't help but feel sad that he had to go, you wished he could stay on the phone forever. "okay," you doubtfully sighed, "i hope you know that i don't believe you."

heeseung chuckled into the phone, shaking his head at your insistence. "why? i will call you, you'll see."

you weren't completely reassured, your doubts still lingering. "you promise?"

heeseung's voice softened, his tone earnest. "i promise, baby."

"pinky promise?" you ask him, your voice getting sweeter.

"pinky, pinky, promise." he echoed into the speaker, making you giggle. "double pinky promise. now do you believe me?"

"you pinky promised, so i'll be waiting on it," you smiled, satisfied with his assurance. "goodnight, heeseung."

heeseung's heart wrenched at your words of goodbye. he missed you already, and he too didn't want to go, but he knew had to get back to where he was supposed to be. "goodnight baby, i love you."

"aww. i love you too bubbabear," you say back. "so much."

"but not more than i love you," heeseung's voice turned childish, "never ever."

you got out of bed, still damp between your legs, and the sheets beneath you soaking with your evidence of pleasure. "okay, you can hang up now."

"no, you hang up."

"no you hang up," you spat back.

"no, im not hanging up," heeseung argued with playful defiance, "so you can go ahead, hang up."

"whatever," you rolled your eyes, "just hang up."

"no, you."

heeseung laughed, he knew you'd go back and forth forever if you had the chance. "fine, i'll hang up. but only because i love you."

"oh but that sounds... manipulative?" you replied with sarcasm, "i love you too, by the way."

"sweet dreams," he wished you, before blowing a kiss into the mic. "give me a kiss back, baby," he cutely asked, waiting for you to reciprocate it. "kiss me through the phone."

"gosh, you are so corny," you complained, knowing you'll do it anyway. "wait! let's do it at the same time," you suggest.

"even better," heeseung agreed, full of excitement. "on three."

you counted to three together, both of you bringing your lips to the phone and kissing it, making a long mwah sound.

"aww, i love you," you gush at him one last time.

"you're so cute. i love you more," heeseung sweetly replied, before cutting the line.

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝖽♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧

♡ྀི hello my beautiful followers, its literally been a year since my last post, i'm terrified😅i feel like i lost my writer's spark but if this does well, i have plenty of filth in my drafts waiting to be posted!😟

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misserabella · 1 year ago

Text

perfect sin

innocent sub virgin! abby x dom fem! reader

synopsis;; Abby was a good girl. Was…

cw;; use of y/n (sorry but it was needed), sub and complete inexperienced yet not innocent abby, references to the bible (algo unholy use of abby’s one) and church, mocking of god, the bible and sins (PLEASE AGAIN, DO NOT TAKE IT SERIOUSLY), cursing, alcohol drug use, dry humping, loss of virginity, dirty talk, nipple play, teasing, smut, scissoring, dumbification, masturbation (both receiving), oral sex (a receiving), worshipping kink & god kink (kinda???), overstimulation, dacryphilia (kinda?), finger fucking, chocking, praising, degradation, multiple orgasms… MINORS DNI!!!

Abby Anderson was a good girl. A straight A’s student, not a big fan of parties, hated alcohol, didn’t do drugs kind of good girl. And… she was really religious. She had always been. She accompanied her father to church every Sunday, went to a religious school and based her reading on her worn bible before going to bed every night. At her eighteen years of life, the most ‘unholy’ thing she had ever done was lie, and she made sure to swear that she’d never do it again.

But that oath didn’t age well, since she was, once again, lying about the fact that she’ll be staying over one of her church friends’ when she was planted in front of the biggest party she had ever seen —the only one she had ever seen, to be honest—.

Although Abby was a good girl, her best friend, Ellie Williams, surely wasn’t. They were complete polar opposites. You just had to stare at them to see that. Whilst Abby seemed like a complete church girl with her button shirt tucked on her caqui pants and her school’s white little sleeveless sweater on top. —She looked so nerdy and cute with those glasses of hers…— Ellie looked like a rockstar, with her smeared eyeliner, short auburn hair, black clothes and silver rings…

Nobody knew how the two of them could be such good friends… But they were. Ellie was a bad influence, always breaking the rules and getting in trouble. And Abby was… the good influence, the pure one of the couple, always in charge of putting some sense into Ellie’s head when her mind convinced her on doing things that seemed like a good idea when in reality were not and getting her out of trouble. They worked.

Ellie loved to hang out with Abby, always trying to make her do something bad and ‘unholy’ but always getting a ‘no’ for an answer. And she thought that it will be that way forever, but surprisingly enough, Abby had acceded to go with her to one of those crazy parties she always attended. So there they were, stepping into the packed house and automatically being hit by the smell of cheap alcohol, weed and hormones.

Abby didn't like it. She couldn’t help scrunching her nose, overwhelmed by the new surroundings. The air was saturated and it was too warm, making her glasses slightly fog.

Ellie laughed at her face, pushing one of her arms over her best friend’s shoulders and dragging her further inside with her. Abby felt as if the devil had took a hold on her and dragged her to Hell.

"Yo Ellie! Got some crystal?" Oh, right. Another thing about Ellie was that she was popular. Really popular. A lot of people waved at her as the two of them passed by. Probably due to her incredible stash and weed. But either ways, she had a lot of friends.

"Look for me later, 'lright? I´ll see what I can do for you then, pretty girls." the girls that had approached her smiled, nodding and giggling as they took off.

"Crystal?" Abby wondered, to what Ellie rolled her green eyes.

"Meth, Bibi. Meth." the blonde scrunched her face. She was well aware that Ellie was a dealer, she wasn't that stupid, she just didn't know much about it. And honestly, she'd like to keep it that way. Of course she was concerned for her best friend's well being, but Ellie had promised him that she wasn't getting into anything hard, weed was her way to go. "That shit is selling like Tommy’s beers." she shook her head, pulling her down the hallway and towards the salon, which connected to an open garden with pool and where the dancing floor took place.

"Ellie!!!" both of them turned to a brunette smiley girl with a cigarette on her left hand.

"Dina!" she seemed just as pleased to see the brown eyed as her to see her. "What are you doing here!?" the arm that stood around her shoulder fell when she stepped closer to her to pull her into a tight hug.

"Oh, you know... y/n." she rolled her eyes, still a happy smile making her cheeks swell.

Ellie chuckled. "That little friend of yours is a true menace..." she shook her head. "I like her." that only made Dina laugh.

"Everyone does..." she sighed, taking a hit to her cigarette as her eyes found Abby's. "Let me guess... Perfect hair, ironed clothes, that church girl's face...Is this Bibi?" Ellie smiled as she nodded, surrounding her friend's shoulder with her arm again before pulling her flush to her side.

"In holy spirit." Abby pushed her hand away when her fingers dug on her hair, messing it all up.

"Nice to meet you Dina." she said, offering one of her warm hands, trying to be polite.

"My pleasure." she actually took it, giving her a funny smile. "You seem scared... First party?" she felt his cheeks reddening in embarrassment as she nodded. “Aw, isn’t that cute… Try not to get eaten alive, hm?” Abby’s eyes widened at her words, but she simply laughed, stealing a bottle of whiskey from one of the guys that went heading towards the kitchen to refill the drinks before giving them their back, cigarette in between her lips as she walked away, turning around when she didn’t hear the two pair of friends following her. “Well? Are you guys coming or not?”

They understood then, nodding and following her down another hallway and into a more private room. From the little people inside Abby thought it could be for VIPS. The room was big, with a couple of sofas sitting around a little coffee table, which stood full of cigarettes, alcohol, little plastic bags, weed…

It seemed to be that they had found the stoner room.

“Dina! Dina’s back!!” a sweet and drunk voice filled the room as the door closed behind their backs. Abby’s eyes met a dark haired girl on one of the sofas, cup in hand and a tipsy smile on her face.

Dina chuckled before going towards the drunk girl, who wrapped her arms around her, pulling her so hard down and against her that almost made her fall. “Lily!” she whined when her face was filled of little kisses, what made Ellie laugh.

Abby looked a little bit shocked when the two of them started kissing.

“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you… Dina is gay. She’s dating Lily too.” Abby seemed amused by her reaction, which quickly faded. Was she surprised? Yeah, she was surely not expecting it. In her church everyone was so… straight. Was she disgusted? Absolutely not. She didn’t see any wrong in any kind of love. It was not ‘conventional’, as people would say, but it was still love and Abby was nobody to tell anyone what to or not to do. Also, she knew her best friend liked girls, and she didn’t love her any less for it.

“Thank god. She wouldn’t stop whining about how much she missed you, almost choked her to sleep for a moment there.” your amused voice chuckled beside her. When Abby’s eyes wondered towards the origin of the sound, she met a really pretty girl. Gorgeous even. Stealing breath away kind of pretty girl. You were dressed on a really tight and short red dress and black high heels. From her position she could see that your lips and eyes were of the same red color of your dress, the first due to a beautiful lipstick and the other probably for the blunt that stood in between your fingers. There was a hazed look on your face, and a soft smile tugging on your lips. Your hair flared a little bit as you turned to face the two best friends by the door. Abby felt like she couldn’t breath. Maybe due to the smoke inside the room… She thought. “Well I’ll be damned… Is that Ellie Williams?” your red eyes squinted a little bit, trying to focus on the auburn haired girl beside her, who shrugged as she stepped further into the room.

“What can I say? I’m famous amongst the ladies.” that made you laugh. And the sound of it was almost angelic. Abby’s heart tightened on her chest, your smile warming her up and making her feel all fuzzy inside. She was completely whipped. “Looking good y/n, been a long time since I last saw you.”

‘y/n’ So that’s who they had been talking about before… y/n, y/n… Even your name was pretty.

“Too long I’d say. Missed your weed. It is the best I’ve ever had.” she pressed a hand to her chest, honored. “And who is pretty girl over there?” Abby felt like fainting when your eyes met her body, lips around the blunt, sucking a new hit that left your throat burning up as the smoke filled your lungs.

“This…” Ellie pulled her by her arm, closer to you and the other two girls, strong enough to have her adjusting her crooked glasses. “Is Abby. Abby Anderson. My girl.” a smile crept on her lips when she recognized that look in your eyes as you scanned her up and down. “And who you are absolutely not getting closer to.”

You rolled your eyes. “Jesus. That fast you claiming a pretty thing like her?” you chuckled, shaking your head just to ignore her and focus on the brunette. “Nice to meet you Abby.” her name rolling on your tongue made her heart fall to the pitch of her stomach, fingers tingling and breath hitching. “I like your sweater.” she coughed, clearing her throat when one of your legs crossed over the other, chest sticking out and your back arched as you accommodated yourself on the sofa. Her eyes darted elsewhere as she awkwardly scratched her neck.

“Thank you.” she stuttered. “I like your…, dress.” that’s the first thing that came to mind and, as she realized what she had just spit out, the stupidest thing too.

You smirked, taking another hit to the blunt. “You do?” you looked down at it. “It’s a little bit uncomfortable though, too tight.” you teased, although she didn’t seemed to get it. Not as Ellie did, scoffing to bring your attention back to her. “You seem uncomfortable too standing over there, why don’t you come take a sit?” you patted the empty place beside you.

“This is Abby’s first party.” she said, eyebrows raising in caution. “Came straight from church studies.” she put extra emphasis to those last two words, which only made you smile harder and Ellie sigh. You were the devil in disguise.

“Oh… A church girl.” you smirked. “That’s why I’ve never seen you around before. I would remember a pretty face like yours.” you winked at her, and her whole body flushed, making you chuckle. Why was this happening to her? She’d never felt like this… Not even with Owen, who had been dating her for a couple of weeks before she told him she couldn’t keep doing it. She didn’t love him. She wasn’t sure she even liked him. She couldn’t even bring herself to kiss him. And now you were making her blush that easily? Making butterflies come up her stomach?

“You. Stop it.” Ellie pointed at you with squinted eyes, making you rise your hands in a peace offering, faking innocence.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Oh, you know what you are doing.” you tilted your head a little bit, smirk returning.

“Yeah I do…” you chucked, just to sigh afterwards. “Fine. I’ll be good.” you gave in. “But still, sit your ass here and give me something good, will you?”

Ellie smiled, quickly sitting down in one of the single sofas beside you. “Yes ma’am.” she teased you as she extracted from one of her front pockets a little plastic bag full of a shiny white powder. “Is this good enough?” she inquired and you only smiled, teasingly answering.

“This will do.” she laughed, watching you take a peek at the drug, shaking it in between your fingers a little bit. “You. Pretty girl.” you called for Abby, who had never stopped staring at you and got startled by your sudden attention. “Lend me your bible, will you?” she quickly pushed one of her hands on her front pocket, pulling out a pocket mini bible from it before walking towards you to hand it to you. Her eyes widened when you pulled her from her arm so she would sit down beside you, fingers lingering on her own as you took her bible from her hand. “Thanks.” you whispered, eyes on her own as you opened it to find just what you were looking for: a picture of Jesus.

You took it out and pushed the bible on top of the tea table before spreading the white powder on top of it, using the photo to spread it in thin and large lines. She was stunned, and Ellie was just too amused to stop you, finding it funny the fact that you were using something ‘holy’ to deal with something that was not.

“Amen.” you muttered before bowing down and pressing your nose to the bible, sniffing the whole line in a go. When you pulled back up and against the sofa, Abby saw the remains of the power on your nose. And even if she knew that she wouldn’t think it, she still found you unbelievably beautiful. “What is it pretty girl? Want to give it a try?” she quickly shook his head.

“No! I think that would be…, a sin.” that only made Ellie, the girls and you laugh. She looked so scared you almost felt bad.

“Come on, you’re not gonna tell me that you’ve never sinned, are you now?” she remained silent, making you frown. “Really?” Ellie chuckled beside you.

“Abby is a fucking saint. Never drank, never kissed… Never fucked.” Abby’s cheeks flushed red as she gave Ellie a death stare.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” your eyes were wide open. Well, as far as they’d go. You were starting to feel all fuzzy and tingly due to the coke and weed in your system. “A fucking virgin… And you are friends with Ellie Williams… Isn’t that funny?” the green eyed seemed hurt, mouth falling open. “With all respect, you are a whore.” her mouth only fell further open, what made you laugh. “You have at least rubbed one out, right?” once again she remained silent, eyes elsewhere and bottom lip in between her teeth. “Right?”

Ellie seemed interested too, as well as Dina and Lily.

“I can’t believe it.” you whispered when she didn’t correct you. Ellie was just as shocked.

“Oh my god…” Dina muttered.

In eighteen years. Not even a little rubbing?

“Jesus…” they all sighed at the same time, and Abby’s cheeks only reddened even more.

“Committing adultery is a sin, alright?” she groaned, too overwhelmed by the attention that was being poured on her. She felt like running away.

“You know what’s a real sin, Abby?” you said, making her stare at you. “Not having an orgasm ever. That’s a fucking sin.” she felt even the tips of her ears redden.

“I’ve—“

“Man, I know you and your father has always been super religious, but you don’t always have to follow some rules that were written centuries ago. If that makes you happy then that’s okay, but aren’t there a lot of things you’ve wanted to do that you couldn’t do due to that goddamn bible?” Ellie inquired, to what Abby nodded.

“I mean ye—“

“Then fuck it!” Dina said, snuggling closer her drunk girlfriend, who nodded in agreement. “Do whatever you want.”

“I can’t…”

“Oh yes you can, and you are gonna do it.” you smiled. “You can always ask for forgiveness, you know? Cry up a little bit at church tomorrow afternoon and say that some evil spirit got a hold on you or some shit like that. You wouldn’t be the first miscarried little sheep around here.” she stiffened when your hand fell on her knee, thumbs rubbing imaginary circles on her skin. She gulped, eyes on your pretty hand before you would lean in and grab her attention once again. “So…, what is it that you wanna do, pretty girl?” she was wicked. Under the spell of your gorgeous smile, reddened eyes and haunting face.

Your smile only grew more when her eyes fell to your red lips…

“Eyes up here, Abby.” you muttered, pointing to your eyes and making the rest of the group chuckle. Ellie sighed, knowing it was probably too late for Abby. You had that power of making people lose themselves into you. And Abby was absolutely lost.

“I… I don’t know…”

“Okay…” you hummed. “Why don’t we start off with something soft, hm?” you offered, and the brunette was the first to catch on, offering you a bottle of tequila that stood on the tea table along with a shot glass.

You poured just the perfect amount into it, grabbing another one for yourself along with limes and salt before leaving the bottle where it belonged.

“Okay. This is a shot of tequila. Of course, you could just give it a go dry, but I like to make it more interesting with this.” You pointed at the lime. She was the one who seemed interested now. “I’ll show you how to have one, then it’s your turn alright?” she nodded and you smiled as you poured a pinch of salt on the back of your palm. That twisting feeling in her stomach returned when your tongue slid through your palm and the the salt, all while keeping your eyes on her own. After that, the alcohol went down your throat as you bent your head slightly backwards, pouring after that the lime as your teeth sank in it. Your face scrunched up due to the sourness of it all, but still the people around you cheered for you as you slammed the shot glass on the coffee table in front of you, smiling. “Did you get it?” you inquired the blonde, whose eyes seemed eager on you, probably due to the rush of adrenaline that went through her veins at the thought of trying something new and exciting. “Then go ahead pretty girl.” you poured salt once again on the back of your palm, handing it to her with a smirk. Her cheeks grew red at your actions, but despite that, she took a deep breath and dove in. All of you seemed surprised by her decisiveness. Your breath hitched when you felt her warm tongue on your skin, licking it clean of the salt before pulling away, and without giving it much thought —since she knew that if she did she’d repent— poured the liquor in her mouth, almost gagging as the tequila hit her tongue, what made her nose scrunch. The turn on her stomach and the burning of her throat was a new feeling, maybe not the best, but it was something new. And that excited her. She knew that drinking was not something forbidden, she had just been too scared of her dad’s disappointment if she ever tried it, so she never did. “So?” everyone stared at her, expecting to know her thought about her first time dealing with alcohol.

Abby coughed, squinting a little bit as her hoarse voice broke the silence. “It burns.”

All of you bursted out in laughter, she could have said anything, and yet she went with the understatement of the century.

“Yeah, it usually does.” Ellie sighed, shaking her head. “That’s the fun of it. Trying to see how much of it you can handle before passing out.” Abby seemed confused as she frowned.

“That doesn’t sound very amusing.”

“Oh, that’s because you aren’t mixing it with anything else...” you smiled. “Actually, you could use a little bit of weed.” Ellie was quick to pull a little bag from her pockets with a bright smile. Once on your fingers and opened, you groaned at the strong and sour smell. “Fuck, I’d eat you out right now if there weren’t so many people here.” Ellie chuckled at your words, and Abby only blushed, taken back by your language. There was a burn in her stomach that pleaded her to make you let out more of those little sounds out of your mouth. And maybe she should be scared, of feeling all of this for a girl. But somehow she wasn’t. She just needed to learn more. Know more. Feel more.

“I don’t think that…” she started, but you only looked at her and she was a goner, the words dying in her throat. Her best friend seemed pretty entertained by the situation. Abby the saint Anderson was finally giving in to having some fun, and it was all because of you. She didn’t know if she should be happy about it or be absolutely jealous.

On the other hand, Abby was absolutely haunted, haunted by your fingers dealing with the drug, rolling up the blunt and your tongue sneaking in between your lips to lick it seal. She felt that tingling on her pussy, although she tried to soothe it off by going over the Genesis.

“Done.“ you smiled, and Dina handed you her lighter so you could light the blunt up.

Abby looked closely as your lips wrapped around the joint and how your cheeks hollowed as you took a hit. You let out a pleased sigh when the smoke filled your lungs. “Fuck.” you loved it. The high, the dizziness, the numbing of your limbs. “Williams, let me marry you. I’ll make a good wife, I promise.” she let out a laughter as she reached out for the blunt, which you obviously handed her.

“Sorry sweetheart, you know I love you, but you’d be too much for me to handle.” you fakely pouted when the blunt was back on your hands.

“Well, it wouldn’t have worked anyways.” you shrugged, taking another hit with a playful smile. “You are not my type...” Abby’s breath hitched when your eyes found hers. “What do you say pretty girl? Are you in?” you offered her the blunt, and after a little hesitation, her fingers stole it from yours. You noticed that she had beautiful hands, soft, with large and thick fingers that would surely look better pushing inside your…

“How should I…?” she seemed scared of it, holding it away from her as if it were a deadly weapon. And maybe it was.

“Right. A saint. Probably haven’t even smoked a cigarette.” you said, scooting closed to her ‘till your thigh was flushed against hers, fingers around her wrist to guide the joint to her lips. She felt her heart skip a beat when her eyes fell to your chest, which stood dangerously close to her own. “Okay. So you put it on your lips and then you suck, but don’t just leave the smoke in your mouth, it has to fill your lungs, so as you suck you need to inhale as deep as you can. If your throat burns, then that means you are doing it okay.” she was following your words and doing as you told her. “But don’t do it too hard or you’ll…” but maybe she was going too fast, since she started to choke on the smoke. “Choke.” you were quick to give her back pats.

“Are you okay?” Lily inquired her, handing her a cup of alcohol. Maybe it wasn’t the best option to go for, since alcohol and weed actually were a strong combination for a beginner, but it was the only thing around.

“Aw she’s fine…” Dina laughed. “You aren’t a beginner if you don’t choke on your first hit.”

“On god.” Ellie teasingly said, sending a kiss to the sky.

She shivered when your fingers dug in her hair, comforting her as her coughing ceased. “Are you okay, pretty girl?” she nodded, too lost on the feeling of your touch. “Wanna try again?” she looked at you as if you were crazy, what made you let out a laughter. “Don’t look at me like that, here, let me help you.” you urged her, taking the blunt from her hand and raising it to your lips to take a deep hit. Her breath hitched when the hand that stood in her hair pushed her near your face. Her eyes widened and her pulse spiked up when your breath hit her own, the weed and alcohol on it making her feel dizzy. Or maybe the fact that your lips were mere inches away from hers was. She really couldn’t know.

Neither of you noticed the way your friends were staring at the two of you.

The hand that held the joint went to her cheek, thumb pressing against her bottom lip as you pulled from it. “Open.” she was quick to do what you’ve asked her to. “Now breathe in for me, will you?” she nodded, and as you blew the smoke on her lips, she took it in. The burning was still there, in the back of her throat, but it wasn’t as overwhelming as it had been the first time. You pulled away with a satisfied smile on your lips, seeing her hold her breath as much as she could —like she had seen you do—. “Good girl.” she almost whined at you words, not understanding why they had had such a great impact on her. There was something in the way you’ve said it that made her shake in your hands. “Now, that wasn’t that bad, was it?” she shook her head, fighting the urge to lean on your touch, on the fingers that now massaged her scalp after a third hit from your lips.

“Woah, are we… Interrupting something here?” Dina was the first to break the silence, making Lily and Ellie laugh.

“The room suddenly feels too hot…” the auburn haired said, fanning her face and making your eyes practically send her daggers. “Just saying…” she rose her hands in surrender.

Abby was feeling her limbs tingle as the clock ticked, eyelids heavy and and mind fuzzy. You seemed to notice. “You okay, pretty girl?” she looked at you through half-lidded eyes, a smile tugging on her lips.

“Feels amazing.” she muttered, and all of you laughed at her reaction.

“Ellie, I think we’ve just created a monster.” you mocked her, but she just seemed happy to see her best friend so relaxed, and having fun.

She was about to answer you, but suddenly the girls that had asked her about having some crystal before peeked through the closed door. She understood what they had come looking for just by taking a look at them. She tapped the arms of the sofa before standing up, grabbing the attention of the group.

“Ladies, I need to go and make some business.” she announced with a smirk. “Do you mind if I leave Abby with you for a little bit?”

You opened your mouth to answer but before you could Lily and Dina were standing up.

“Yeah, we’re gonna— Lily needs to— Bathroom.” she simply said before she could grab the curly haired’s hand, her lips on her neck as they left the room, Ellie right behind.

It was then when you realized that only you and Abby were left behind. Alone. She seemed to realize too, since her body seemed to stiffen up

“Well, I guess we’re alone now, pretty girl.” you said, taking another hit of the blunt. You were probably overdoing it already, but you knew you could handle it. She nodded, trying not to show the way her hands were shaking. It was a really strange combination of feelings really: She was high. She was excited about her first party. She was nervous about being near someone as pretty as you… “What are you thinking about, hm? What’s going on inside that little head of yours?” Oh, and she was completely caught up in the way that your fingers kept brushing though her hair, in the way your eyes never left her.

“Nothing.” she sputtered out, what made you smile. You scooted a little bit closer, getting on your side so you could face her.

“Tell me, Abby…” you started. “What other things are there that you would like to do?” you bit your bottom lip, the fingers on her hair sliding down to her neck, where you connected the moles on her skin. Her eyes were on your red lips, on your chest, on your thighs… God, she felt impure.

“I… Uhm…” you decided to give her a little extra push, your chest almost brushing against hers as you leaned in, blowing the smoke on her face. She was taken aback, feeling the heat of your body against her making her pussy throb on her pants. She looked away from you, cheeks red and mind fuzzy, although her eyes found their way back to you when your palm pressed against her cheek, leading her back to you.

“Where are you looking at, hm? Eyes on me, Abby…” you muttered, your breath colliding with her own as you leaned in. “How pretty…” you muttered, thumb brushing against her bottom lip, pulling, getting a shaky breath as an answer. “Such a pretty face and yet no one has ever kissed you before? What a waste…” You weren’t stupid, you had noticed the way the blonde stared at you, expecting doe eyes, lingering blue shining above the red… “Such a pretty pretty girl.” she whined as your lips brushed against hers, teasing her, pulling her in to the sin she had learned to avoid. The sin she had made herself avoid.

“y/n…” she let out a short breath, hoarse voice only a whisper as she leaned in ever further, trying to pursue the plump of your lips and the electrifying feeling that shook her body anytime you were near.

“What is it, hm?” you smirked, and she whined when you pulled from her hair to keep her from getting any closer. “Want me to kiss you Abby?” you inquired. You liked the girl, you wanted the girl, and you were selfish about what you wanted, but you were no monster.

She nodded, tongue sneaking in between her lips to dampen them before they’d fall apart in a plead. “Please…”

You clicked your tongue, shaking your head and making her cry out. “Nuh-uh… You can do better than that, baby. Use your words. Let me hear you ask for it.” she whimpered, eyes on your red lips as her own cheeks flushed, probably due to embarrassment, or the alcohol that travelled through her veins, or the fact that she wanted it, you, so bad she felt like dying…

“Please, kiss me…” she whispered, almost inaudible under the music playing from the party. “Please…” and when her eyes met yours, when you saw that linger in the blue of them, the need… You were quick to pull her in, leaving the blunt aside as your lips met hers. God, you’d been wanting to do that since she had stepped in the room. Your core ached when she moaned in your mouth, her hands shaking at her sides as her eyes squeezed shut, what made you laugh as you pulled away, shaking your head. You quickly threw one of your legs over her lap, straddling her muscled thighs and making her eyes widen, muscles incredible stiff below you. “Come on, Abby, why don’t you relax on me a little?” you left a couple of wet kisses on her neck, making her sigh under your touch and letting your hands guide hers to your ass. “You can touch me, I don’t bite.” you amusedly said, teasing her before you would lean in once again to meet her lips, nor before a “Unless you want me to…” she was shaking when you kissed her again, breath hitching and a moan leaving her lips when you started to rock your hips against her. She was already wet. So wet… “Why don’t you open your mouth for me, hm?” you muttered against her mouth, your thumb pulling on her bottom lip. She did as you said, what made you smile. “Yeah, just like that, good girl…” she moaned when your tongue slid right inside her mouth, swirling around hers. Her fingers dug on your ass, making you hum into the kiss as you pulled on her hair. Her jaw fell slack as you ground a little bit harder against the crotch of her pants and against her aching cunt, which throbbed.

When you pulled away, her glasses had fogged up due to your wet kisses.

“y/n…” she whimpered as your lips trailed down her throat, harshly sucking hickeys on her skin and hands bucking you against her. She felt dizzy, high in a drug under your name, delirious even. This felt so good, you on top of her, dry humping her, kissing her… She never wanted it to stop.

“Shit… That’s it.” you said, getting off her lap —hearing a whine fall from her lips— and pulling from her hand so she could get up. “Let’s go.” you were fast to leave the stoner room and start to drag her upstairs, getting her in in the first empty room you could find and locking the door behind your back before you’d kiss her again. Seeing your lipstick all smeared on her lips made you want to devour her.

She opened her mouth for you, just like you had taught her, stumbling backwards in between groans as you led her towards the bed. She let out a surprised gasp when you pushed her on the chest, making her sit down. “What… What are you doing?” she inquired you as you kneeled in front of her, breathing strained and lips swollen. Her blonde hair was all messed up, as well as her clothes, and her pussy hurt so much under her pants she couldn’t help but wish you were back kissing her, rubbing against her and making it better. She was high, and needy, and the sight of you down on your knees with your hands brushing her thighs was absolutely not making the pain go away any time soon.

“Praying.” you smiled at her as you unbuckled her pants and pushed them down her thighs along with her underwear, your bottom lip in between your teeth.

“W-Wait!” she tried to stop you, overwhelmed by being so exposed in front of you, but all that embarrassment left her mind when you pushed her legs apart and left a little peck on her clit. Her pussy was pretty, blonde mound and pinkish dripping folds soaked for you. You smiled when she let out a load moan at the fat strip you made up her pussy, taking in all her slick, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. Your pussy was drenched, throbbing at her moans and whines.

“Such a pretty girl with a pretty pussy...” she whimpered when you licked clean her arousal off her slit. “Does that feel good, hm? Like my tongue?” she nodded, eyes squeezed shut when you gave it a long stripe from her hole to her clit before sucking it inside your mouth. You moaned against her, ‘cause she tasted so good… And you wanted to fuck your face on her pussy so bad that it had you thrusting your hips down on your heels to look for some relief.

“Oh, God… Ohgodohgodohgod…” you chuckled as you let her go with a pop, spitting on your hand before your fingers would circle her entrance, making her thighs clench and a moan leave her lips.

“No God here, baby, ‘s just me.” she whimpered when your mouth went back to her, slowly pushing one finger into her tight walls. Her fingers unconsciously laced on your hair, making you hum against her clit and her whine. She felt like chocking with her spit. She has never felt something like this. How could this feel so good? This was supposed to be a sin. She was supposed to be taken away by Satan to hell and burn for the eternity. And yet there she was, feeling like stepping in Heaven.

She seemed extremely sensitive on her clit, where you teased her with your tongue, making her moan and whimper as you curled your finger against her g spot. There was this pressure, this heat building up in her lower stomach that made her head feel all fuzzy and her limbs weak as you pushed your ring finger inside.

“y/n…” she whined, her pussy throbbing around your fingers and fully leaking. You could feel she was about to cum, and its speed and her poor stamina only made her cuter.

“Poor baby… Is it too much? Is my mouth too much for you, hm? Want me to stop?” you inquired her, entertained by her slack jaw and glossed over eyes. She was gone. Completely dumbified. You’d love to see how she’d react once she was thrusting against you, maybe fucking into you with a fake cock… You were dripping down your thighs at the thought of it.

She shook her head, the hand on your hair only tightening. “No! Please, don’t stop, please? Pleasepleaseplease…” she begged, moaning loudly when you went back to fucking her g spot. “Feels so good, so good, please…” she was a babbling mess, unable to think, desperate to reach something that she was stumbling towards, something new, something unknown…

You bit down on your bottom lip. “Are you gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna cum on my mouth? Gonna give me your first orgasm, hm?” her eyes rolled to the back of her head when she saw you stuck your tongue out, drool falling onto her pussy and clit and connecting it to your mouth through a string of spit. She was sure that you were a succubus, a devil in disguise that had come to haunt her and led her away from God. And honestly? She’d let you do it. ‘Cause just how beautiful you looked with her clit in your mouth, the sight of your glossed and red eyes staring up at her as you sucked her clean with all your red lipstick smeared all over her pussy and folds… Fuck. Simply… Fuck. She was so close to reaching that feverish feeling that had her shaking on her spot that she started to moan and whimper more loudly.

“Please, please, please…” she didn’t even know what she was begging for, her strained pleading making you start to lap at her faster, sucking on her clit harder. “Oh god, something’s gonna… I’m gonna…” she was a whimpering mess, eyes watering to the overwhelming sensation of her first orgasm, which was about to crumble her to pieces.

“Come on pretty girl, let go for me. Let me have it, hm? Let me taste you.” you said before kitten licking her clit, fucking her with your fingers. That’s all it took for her to fill your mouth up. Her orgasm hit her like a wave. So hard she was gasping for air, as if she were drowning under water. Her sight went completely white, mind blank and ears ringing as her body relaxed under your touch. When she came back from it, you were cleaning her up with your tongue, swallowing her warm cum and caressing her thighs in comfort. You hummed at the taste, sucking your fingers clean. “You okay, baby?” you inquired her as her eyes fluttered open, glossy and teary, pupils fully blown. She shivered when your lips latched to the skin of her hip bone, sucking hardly enough to leave a bruise, making her fingers lace harder in your hair.

“y/n…” she whimpered, feeling how your lips slowly trailed up her lower stomach, your hands getting rid of the buttons of her shirt as you sat back down on her lap. You were starting to believe it to be your favorite seat ever.

“Did that felt good baby?” you smirked, loving the fucked out look on her face and her dizzy nodding. “Look at you, so fucked out you can’t even speak. You liked cumming in my mouth, huh?” you teased her, making her moan as your hands sneaked up her unbuttoned shirt. “Want a taste?” you whispered on her ear, nibbling on her jaw and making her gasp, her pussy was already getting wet again. So eager… “Open up for me.” you whispered against her lips when she nodded. And she did. In a heartbeat.

Your tongue was quick to push inside her mouth, both of your moaning in the kiss as your hips rocked harder against her own. She was shaking when you pushed her hands from your waist to your breasts, she groaned when you squeezed hers to make a domino effect and urge her to touch you just how she wanted. “Tell me Abby, what is it that you want?” you inquired her as your breaths mixed, sucking on her bottom lip. Her eyes squeezed shut when you went back to sucking on her neck. “What do you want to do now?”

“I want… I want to make you feel good.” she breathed out, glossy brown eyes full of lust when staring into your own. She wanted to make you feel the way you had made her feel, better, if that could be possible…

You smiled at her words. “Oh yeah?” you bit your bottom lip brushing her messy hair backwards and playfully tugging on it, making her take a shaky breath as she nodded. ��You wanna make me feel good, Abby?” her skin grew on goosebumps when you guided one of her hands down your body, ‘till her fingertips got lost underneath your dress and in between your legs. You moaned when her palm cupped your clothed cunt. She felt her heart skip a beat when you started to rock your hips against it. “Gonna let me teach you?” she nodded once again as you pushed your dress over your head, tongue coming out to lick her lips, eager to pull out of you more of those beautiful sounds. “Good girl…” you couldn’t know if she had moaned due to the amount of beautiful and flushed skin on display just for her or for your praise, but, at the moment, it truly didn’t matter, not when she stared at you like that.

She felt like fainting when she felt you, underneath the lace of your panties, her fingertips against your soaked cunt, so soaked you dripped on her fingers. “There.” you whined when you pushed her hand upwards, ‘till her fingertips bumped against that little bundle of nerves that could make you cum over and over again with just a little bit of stimulation. “Fuck, move your fingers around it, baby.” you instructed, moaning when she did, what only made her crave you more. “Yeah just like that.” you rocked your hips against her touch, pressing open mouthed kisses on her chest. “Now use your fingers. Inside.” you muttered on her neck when you pushed her hand down towards your hole. “Inside, please.”

Abby was lost. Lost in the new experience, in the new knowledge, but most of all, lost in the way your eyebrows knitted together when she first touched you under your underwear, or the way your mouth was falling open now that one of her fingers was fully inside of you, up to the knuckle. And Abby knew she was a goner when she found herself swearing. And she didn’t fucking swore. “Fuck.”

You were clamping around her finger when you pulled her in for a hungry kiss, teeth clashing and tongues swirling around each other as she started to pump in and out of you, making you moan and push on her touch. “Another one. Put in another one, please Abby.” you gasped out, and she followed, willing to do anything for you, anything as well as you kept moaning, and kissing her, and begging her for more, and… “Fuck, just like that…” you cried out.

Her pussy was throbbing like crazy, leaking in between her thighs as she took in just how… Heavenly you looked. On your black lace underwear, smeared red lipstick, messy hair, glossy eyes… You looked like an angel, no, like a god.

A god she would die to worship.

And she surely felt like cumming when her fingers slightly curved and hit that spot inside you that pulled out a whimper from your mouth. She wanted more. More of you falling apart. So she curved them once again, and again, and… But before she could know it, she found herself being pushed and laying on her back. “Wh—What?” she tried and ask. Had she done something wrong? If she had… But her voice died out when you were taking off your bra, and she felt like choking. They were perfect — it’s not like she had ever seen tits before, but if she had she would have thought the same—. They looked so soft… And your nipples, erect from lust… She just wanted to suck and bite on them.

She moaned when you rocked against her hips, the lace of your panties rubbing against her thigh. “y/n… Shit.” she could feel the dampness on the cloth, the heartbeat of your pussy against her.

“Too much, pretty girl?” you smirked, grabbing her wrists to lead her hands towards your breasts. Her big hands made you sigh when her fingers felt the plump of them, thumbs rolling your nipples…

“y/n…” she breathed out when you leaned in to kiss her neck and chest over her bra, marking her all up as she whimpered below you, loosing herself on the way your hips thrusted against her, your lips on her skin, your warm own in between her fingers… On the way your bare cunt felt against her skin once you’ve gotten rid of your panties, slick coating her skin as you slid against her. The two of you moaned before you could find yourself to hum in answer, eyes meeting her glossy and dazed ones. “More…” she whimpered, needing more, more of you. She noticed the hesitation in your eyes before her lips parted once again, “Please…” her hips thrusting upwards against your core, making you groan.

“So pretty begging…” you muttered before kissing her so deep and wet that she was left shivering.“You want to fuck me, hm? Want to fuck me, Abby?” you teased, pressing down against her and making her moan as she nodded. You moved in between her thighs sliding your fingers in between her lips.

“Yes, yes, yes… Pleasepleaseplease… Can I fuck you? Please, y/n, oh please. Let me fuck you, please…” tears swelled her eyes at the feeling of your pussy lining up with hers, mound barely touching, pressing down, teasing her with every false thrust of your hips. She needed to make you cum, needed you…

“How can I say no if you ask so nicely, hm?” you whispered against her lips before you’d push one of your thighs on her lap to push yourself against her, moaning at the feeling. It felt so painfully good you found yourself sinking your nails on her abs, moaning. “Shit, so wet…”

“Fuck.” she breathed out, eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” you felt so warm, so wet… Her fingers dug on your hips to keep you still when your clits met. By the way she was throbbing against you and how her breath sounded strained, you knew she was trying her best to not cum. So you waited it out, both of you did. A moan left her lips when your started to slightly grind against her, you biting down on your lip as she whimpered. “y/n…”

You slowly rose ‘till only your lips touched before slamming your hips back down onto her heat, moaning when your clits met and hearing her groan. “You like that, pretty girl? Your virgin pussy seems to, dripping like crazy for me.” you teased her, chuckling slightly when she nodded —too pussy drunk already— before starting to fuck yourself against her like the two of you needed.

And as your pace quickened, the more moans, pants and whines left both your lips.

“Forgive me, Lord. Forgive me, Lord. Forgive me, Lord. Forgive me, Lord. Forgive me, Lord. Forgi—“ she was a babbling mess as she watched you thrust against her sopping cunt —incoherent, moaning and whimpering, words becoming lost—, the sound of your juices filling the room along with the slapping of sweaty skin. You chuckled at her messed up appearance and crooked glasses.

“He can’t listen to you now, baby. Your moans suffocate it.” you smirked when she let out a whimper as you fucked her harder, kissing her neck and biting down on the skin. It was all so overwhelming… Your velvet lips leaving red stains all over her body, the prettiest tits bouncing up and down with every thrust, your soft moans and sighs of pleasure against her ear, the way you ground your puffy clit on hers, the way your warm and soaked pussy slid against hers… It was too much, too much that the blonde could feel tears stinging her eyes, threatening to spill over her flushed cheeks.

It surely was too much, but at the same time not enough.

She whined when you pushed yourself up and away, flopping on your elbows in front of her under her confused gaze. You gave her a playful smile before parting your legs, letting your pulsing wet hole show only for her. Her dilated pupils latched onto it, not letting go as one of your hands came to it to spread your sticky lips. She felt her mouth water, gulping loudly. “Why don’t you come fuck me like you’ve been wanting since this afternoon, hm? Don’t need to be a good girl with me, Abby.” she was quick to sit up and crawl her way over to you, enchanted by your sweet voice as if some enchantment had fogged her mind. She was even quicker to discard her glasses aside, unable to see no longer through the glass.

You gasped for air when she pushed in between your legs, and before you knew it, he was pushing her pussy against you in a quick and harsh thrust, making you grip and sink your nails on her broad shoulder blades as she started to relentlessly fuck you.

Eyes rolling to the back of your head, you moaned on her ear. “That’s it, shit.” you cursed in between heavy breaths, hearing her grunt.

She was hard, fast and needy, now being you the mumbling mess as you tugged on her hair and her lips sucked on your tits, biting your nipples and bruising the skin of your neck and chest, hands grabbing anywhere and everywhere, kneading your soft skin as she moaned against it. “Fuck Abby, that’s it, baby…” your body was buried and shook on the sheets with every new thrust, sliding up and down the duvet. She was fucking the brains out of you.

You gasped for air when one of her hands gripped your neck, pinning you to the bed as her hips harshly clashed against yours. You smirked when she groaned at your wetness, the feeling of your cunt sliding against hers. “I knew you had it in you. Not that of a good girl anymore, huh?” she whined when your fingers tugged harder on her hair, hips staggering at the pleasure as her eyes squeezed shut. She was in a daze. “You like that pretty girl?” you teased, moaning when her grip around your neck tightened and she gave you a extremely harsh thrust that pressed just on the right spot, making your thighs shake and a needy and loud moan leave your lips, crying out for her to fuck you harder, to fuck you just like that.

You could feel the coil on your lower stomach, every new hit on your clit making you get closer and closer to that high and making your walls clench. “Shit, y/n…” her lips parted in a whimper, her hand leaving your neck to take a hold on your hips and seek more of those pretty moans of yours… She dragged you against her pussy with every push of her hips, pulling from you to reach your highs.

“Abby i’m close, fuck, i’m so close baby, gonna cum all over your pussy, shit.” you were choking on your words.

Your moans got muffled when she kissed you, her tongue pushing inside your mouth as her thrusts lost their rhythm, too close to cumming on your sopping cunt. “y/n, y/n, y/n…” she could feel yourself throbbing against her, your orgasm approaching right beside hers. She wouldn’t last, you knew that. “fuck, ah, y/n I’m gonna…, I’m—“

One of your hands came up to her face, your thumb pressing against her bottom lip as she rested her forehead against yours, her breath fanning over your face. “Cum on me, please Abby, please…” you breathed out, eager, begging, gone. Her eyebrows knitted together as her lips fell on a moan, pussy throbbing as she thrusted against you one, two, three more times before painting your folds in white, making you moan at the feeling. Droplets of her cum were falling on your thighs and the sheets every new thrust, whimpering due to the stimulation but still eager to make you come, to make you feel good.

“Oh shitshitshitshit…” you muttered, your hips following hers as you felt yourself seconds away from your own release.

“Cum for me, y/n, please? Please, y/n, please…” she begged, driving you over the edge and making you cum so hard you saw stars behind your closed eyes.

She groaned when she felt your cum mixing with her own, coating her pussy.

The two of you stayed still as you came down from your highs. You were sticky with cum and sweat, but you couldn’t bring yourself to push her away, and she didn’t seem to despise the idea of holding you for a little longer.

Now Abby understood. She finally understood how even a creature as perfect as Lucifer couldn’t had helped falling to the deep depths of hell. All it took was the perfect sin, the perfect poison.

And Abby was sure to had found hers in you.

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silent-stories · 10 months ago

Text

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊

Pairing: Eddie x GN!Reader

Summary: You drank too much at a party and Eddie drives you home.

Warnings: drunk!reader, mentions of drugs, fluff. (I wrote this a bit randomly after months of not writing)

The air was thick with anticipation, a heady mix of teenage hormones, cheap perfume, and the unmistakable scent of alcohol and substances that teenagers should not have possessed. The room buzzed with conversation: half-truths, secrets, whispered confessions and loud laughs.

Colored lights danced across the walls, casting patterns on the faces of the revelers. The stereo blared an eclectic mix of hits, and the speakers threatened to burst from the strain.

Steve Harrington, the unofficial king of Hawkins High, moved through the crowd, laughed, clapped shoulders, and flirted shamelessly. When he tripped on the beer-stained carpet, you thought you weren't the only one who drank too much that night.

But you weren't there for Steve. You were there because your friend had dragged you along, promising a night of freedom and adventure. But now, as the room spun around you, you wondered if you'd made a terrible mistake as your friend had vanished into the throng, probably swept away by some guy with a charming smile and in a basketball team jacket.

The alcohol had blurred the edges of your consciousness, and you stumbled toward the bathroom. The hallway seemed endless, and you clung to the walls for support, the bathroom door swung open, and you stumbled inside, gasping for air. You leaned against the sink, your stomach churning.

And there, leaning against the opposite wall, was Eddie Munson. His presence was unexpected, like finding a hidden passage in a familiar book.

You knew who he was, hell, all of Hawkins knew who he was.

You had to admit though that the description people gave didn't exactly match the boy who sat behind you in science class. You had talked to him a few times during the boring lesson that you usually spent scribbling on the edges of your notebook: the first time he had told you that he liked your drawings, and you had smiled at him in response. Little did he know that he had given you a reason to return to that class, the week after, and the week after that.

Once you had lent him a pen, another time you had laughed at a sarcastic comment he whispered under his breath.

The times you had a real, even if brief, conversation with him was when you picked up Dustin after Hellfire (his mom had asked you to do this favor for her and you couldn't say no to your neighbor). Sometimes you talked about music, sometimes about how the campaign of that game that seemed too difficult to understand but which interested you anyway went. Or maybe you just really liked the way his eyes lit up when he talked about dragons and hidden worlds.

His eyes met yours in the reflection in the mirror in front of you, and for a moment, the chaos outside the bathroom ceased to exist.

You felt a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach and you weren't sure if it was from being alone with Eddie or from the alcohol.

He was the last person you expected to see at that party: you knew the rumors going around about him, you knew he wasn't exactly the type to be invited to events like that.

"Hey." He simply said, as if he was the surprised one of the two, taking a step towards you. The chain attached to his jeans jingled, or maybe it was just your ears.

"Hey." You responded in the same way, turning towards him, staggering slightly.

By instinct, he reached forward with one arm as if, if you fell, he would be there to catch you.

“You look like you’ve seen better days.” He said when he made sure you wouldn't collapse on the bathroom floor.

“Yeah... you can say that." You thought of a nice way to ask your question, but none came to your mind, "What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, his leather jacket creaking. “They needed a dealer. I needed cash. It’s a match made in hell.”

You nodded, swaying slightly. “Hell...has a great playlis' tonight.”

Eddie’s gaze softened. “You’re wasted.”

“Yep,” you agreed. “Los' my friend. Probably making out with some... guy in Steve’s bedroom.”

“You deserve better friends.” He commented.

"Mh-mh."

"You didn't take any of the stuff I brought here, did you?"

"Wha' stuff?"

"Drugs. You didn't take any of that shit, right?" He questioned in a more worried tone, scanning you with his brown eyes for a possible answer written on your face. Why did he care so much? You were already completrly drunk, your night was ruined, your friend left you alone and-

Eddie called your name again.

"Please don't tell me that-"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Don' like 'em."

Eddie breathed a sigh of relief. So he really cared.

He took a step closer when tou closed your eyes for a brief moment, concern etching lines on his forehead. “You need to get home.”

"Yeah... I need a moment to remember where I left my car and-"

“You can't drive like that.”

"Yes I can... I jus' have to-"

A wave of nausea washed over you.

You stumbled toward the toilet, and he followed. Your knees hit the floor as you threw up.

You felt a warm hand touch your neck and you realized that Eddie was holding your hair back, his touch surprisingly gentle. It seemed like he was almost afraid to touch you, as if you might believe he had bad intentions.

You knew Eddie would never try to harm you. You weren't afraid of him.

He handed you a piece of toilet paper to wipe your mouth. His eyes held a mixture of concern and gentleness.

When you flushed the toilet, you realized that Eddie's hand was no longer holding your hair but was slowly moving up and down your back. His touch was gentle.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." You sniffed, your throat burning and your eyes watering. "Thank you."

"Do you trust me to drive you home?" He asked still sitting next to you on the bathroom floor.

"That would... be nice, yeah."

“Alright,” he gave you a little smile and stood up, reaching out a hand and helping you do the same, “m'lady.”

"It could have been worse. I could... have vomited on you." You chuckled, glancing out the window at Eddie behind the wheel.

"Yeah, I wouldn't have liked it." He replied, laughter in his voice.

"It almos' happened once. I was on a date with a guy and... his jacket smelled like shit. You have no idea."

Eddie’s laughter filled the car once again. It was obvious that you had entered the "I say whatever comes into my head" phase of your drunkenness.

"Mine doesn't stink right?"

"Oh no. Yours perfect." You reached out, brushing the leather covering his arm as he drove, “I'm glad I didn't throw up on it.”

Eddie laughed again and god, you were starting to love that sound.

"Can I confess you somethin'?" You asked after a few moments of complete silence.

"All that you want."

“Science's my favorite class.”

"Because you like dissecting animals? And they call me the satanist who sacrifices animals in the w-"

"'Cause you're there too."

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

"Oh."

"Cause you're funny and kind and... you thank me when I lend you a pen. I once lent Jason a pen and never saw it again."

"Yeah, I should start bringing one to school."

"No, please. I like being able to lend you a pen... It's an excuse for me to talk to you."

Eddie opened his mouth and then closed it again, saying nothing.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"No. No, absolutely not. I just… I didn't think you liked talking to me."

"Why not?"

"I don't know...people don't usually do that."

"People don't know you."

“You don't know me either, sweetheart.” The nickname didn’t sound flirty; it was affectionate, tinged with sadness. As if he believed that once you truly knew him, you’d no longer want to talk to him.

You wondered how many people had hurt him in the past.

"I'd... like to do it."

"Maybe it's just the alcohol talking. Maybe on Monday you'll pretend I don't even exist at school."

"I would never do that."

"Why?"

"Cause I like you."

Eddie parked his car in front of your house. You had arrived.

“It's definitely the alcohol talking.” He laughed.

You grabbed his hand when he helped you out of the car.

"That's not true! I like you... and you're not like people say and you're sweet and-" As you stumbled toward your house, Eddie instinctively wrapped his arm around your waist, steadying you. The contact pressed you against his body, and under the soft glow of the streetlights, it felt like a scene from a movie.

“And... have they ever told you that your eyes are really pretty?”

He stared at you for a moment and you wondered what was going on in his head. You thought maybe you said the wrong thing but his gaze was still kind. Always soft.

"A long time ago."

"They were right."

Eddie let one of his arms fall to his side when he made sure you could stand.

"Watch the sidewalk." He said as he walked you to your front door.

It took you a while to find the key, eventually Eddie helped you open the door and turned on the light in the hallway, without setting foot inside your house yet.

You walked to the kitchen, not even thinking about it. Then you turned around.

"Aren't you coming in?"

He chuckled, leaning one arm on the doorframe.

"To do what?"

"I don't know... for a coffee. Somethin'."

Eddie sighed. "Go to bed, okay? Get a good night's sleep and then if you're not feeling good take an aspirin."

You snorted. "Don't you wan' some coffee?"

"I don't want it right now. Maybe one morning we can skip some boring class and go get it somewhere. Together."

You immediately smiled at his proposal. "I'd like that."

He watched you take off your shoes and leave them in the corner of the room.

"Get some rest okay? I'd miss you in science on Monday if you weren't there."

"Really? Then I'll be there."

“I won't bring a pen.”

"So we'll have an excuse to talk."

He smiled "Exactly."

When he closed the door, saying goodnight, you still had a stupid smile on your face. You didn't know if the alcohol was to blame or not.

Tags: @jacklesbrainworms @morning-sky7 @pipsqueakkitten @navs-bhat @michaelfuckinglangdon @flawiette @needylilgal022 @bubsonnobx @yujyujj @findmeincorneliastreet @kennedy-brooke @witchwolflea

#eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction

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miniwheat77 · 2 years ago

Text

Give 'em hell. (Captain Price x Reader.)

TODAY IS MY BIRTHDAY AND I WANTED TO MAKE A STORY ABOUT MY ONE TRUE LOVE, CAPTAIN PRICE. 22 TODAY, PLEASE ENJOY THIS. ALSO THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR 1K FOLLOWERS.

!CW! NSFW, Smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, pollen sex, (my bad if I missed any.)

Summary: Reader and Captain Price get exposed to a weird chemical.

Part 2.

The mission was supposed to be simple. There was a terrorist who had killed a few soldiers, they needed to be taken care of. It wasn't a capture mission, he had no valuable information. Just a piece of shit wanting to kill people. He needed to be eliminated and that's how you and your Captain ended up on the mission. You were still somewhat new to the task force, so your Captain decided he'd take you along on this mission with him. Spend some time with you, get to know you and what skills you offer to the team. It was a good opportunity for experience.

So when he was giving you support from afar with a sniper rifle and you were sneaking in real close, despite his anxiety, the only words he said to you were "Give 'em hell." You showed him exactly what you were about. Skilled on takedowns, real quiet when you needed to be. He admired you. Sometimes he wonders what he did to form such a good team. Especially a team that seemed to get along and work together so well. When the compound he had watched you disappear into went silent, no sirens, no gunfire, nothing. He knew you had done the job. He slung his sniper around his shoulder and began the hike down the rocky hill to get to the building. Concerned by your silence. "Captain, you're going to want to see this." His heart started to beat a little harder in his chest after hearing his radio go off. He moves faster down the hill being careful not to fall, he didn't need any more old man jokes from Gaz.

He searches through the buildings and when he finds you, he finds you in a lab. "What's so important Y/N?" He asks. You pick up a paper, looking over it before nodding your head for him to follow you. Inside, there are massive vats of some kind of liquid. "What the hell is it?" He asks. "Some kind of.. weird sex drug." You laugh. "Some form of torture I guess." Captain Price looks at you concerned. "The bloody hell is wrong with these people?" He’s eyeing everything around him.

"You got me on that one." You laugh. "So.. How is it used as a form of torture?" He asks. "Well... The only way to cure it is to have unprotected sex, has something to do with the protein/peptide hormones in sperm that dilute it. The way it gets cured in women is if that sperm gets in contact with an egg. If you don't cure it, your blood pressure gets too high, heart starts pounding, and you eventually die of a heart attack." You spin the papers around, it's got a diagram on it. "Jesus Christ, that's evil. We've got to destroy this stuff." He says. “Definitely. Did you find the subject?” He asks. “Haven’t checked the bodies just yet, got a little distracted seeing all of this. I thought it might be drugs. Well.. a different kind.” You chuckle. He laughs. Looking down. “Well. Let’s go see if you got him.” He places down a piece of paper he had. You hear the sound of bounding footsteps coming toward the both of you, and before either of you have any time to react, there's syringes being stabbed into the both of you. Your Captain has drawn his gun and killed the assailant before you even have time to react. You grasp the syringe out of your neck with a hiss, your Captain pulling one from his shoulder. "Was that.." You trail off. "Yeah. Yeah it was." He throws the syringe down, a sigh leaving his lips. "Fucking bloody hell, how much time do we have?" He asks. You pick the paper up off of the ground where you had dropped it out of reaction. "Three hours." You sigh.

Captain Price sits down in one of the chairs in the lab. Taking out a cigar and his zippo. Lighting it. Your brain is foggy. What does this mean? Does this mean you both die? Neither of you can get to civilization soon enough for...

Does that mean you have sex with your captain?

"I'm gonna go get some fresh air." You take a deep breath walking out of the room and heading toward an exit. You shove the large metal door open and take a step into the cool night air. You breathe in the air, looking up at the sky.

Nighttime was the best time to attack.

You take in a deep breath, sitting down against the cool brick wall. This was fucking insane. Maybe he injected you with something else. Maybe it was some other kind of drug.

The swirling in your stomach told you otherwise, you were in denial. You were in quite the predicament. Have sex with your Captain or die. Literally fuck or die. Does he think he's going to die? Is that why he's just sitting there? Of course he wouldn't expect you to have sex with him, but he was your Captain, you couldn't let him die either. You had no other choice. You were already sweating profusely and you're sure your Captain felt the same as you. You start pep talking yourself as you walked back into the room he's sitting in. He's shed a few of his things. His vest is off and he's just got on an army green shirt. "I uh.. I really respect you, Sergeant. But.." He laughs. He looks down at the ground before looking back up at you. "I-I was just going to come back in here to say that I.." You laugh awkwardly. "I don't particularly want to die either." You breathe. He looks up at you.

"Alright. I guess since we're on the same page. Let's figure out what the fuck to do." He stands up, picking up his stuff and walking over to the table. Picking up any paperwork that might be useful, motioning for you to follow him. You follow him outside. "Might want to take off any clothing you don't want getting ruined. We’re going to destroy this shit.” He looks at you as he sheds some of his clothing. What’s important anyways. You follow his lead, doing the same. You follow behind him as he makes his way over to a shed. He shoves the door open and steps inside. It’s dark but he’s digging around inside. It's full of all kinds of tools and construction items, he ends up finding a couple sledge hammers. He passes you one and you give him a look of confusion. "You can swing a sledge hammer right?" He asks. The way he throws the other up onto his shoulder, muscles fitting out his shirt so well has you swallowing hard. In just a few short minutes, you were going to have sex with him.

Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

You nod your head, taking the other from him. You follow him back inside, going into the building with the massive vats of liquid. He takes the first swing, hammer knocking into the glass, shattering it and sending the water spilling out of the side, covering his clothes. It pools on the floor, covering your shoes. He laughs. “It’s kind’ve fun actually.” He smiles. When he swings the sledge hammer, his shirt stretches around his muscles and the grunts that leave him has the heat pooling between your legs. It’s getting worse by the minute. The longer this goes on, the more appealing your Captain seems to become. You laugh, taking the next swing, hammer knocking into it. The same thing happening. You smile.

A gasp leaves your lips, and your knees buckle underneath you. Your knees hit the ground, the liquid soaking your pants. “Oh fuck!” You cry out. “Hey, you okay?” He lowers himself down to you, resting a hand on your back. “Yeah, it’s just getting worse.” You pant out. “Just a couple more okay? We’ll fix it when we’re done.” He blushes. You nod your head. He helps you up and the heat filling your body feels like too much. You raise your hammer, knocking it into another vat, watching it explode.

You repeat this until there's nothing left. The both of you are panting, getting weaker by the minute. You follow him out the door and Captain Price lights the last of his cigar, taking a hit and offering it to you.

He flicks the last of it into the liquid and it lights on fire immediately. Filling the room and everything inside with flames. "Come on." He offers his hand to you. You take it, following him back outside as the building goes up in flames, admiring the work you both had done. "So.. You said that in order for the cure to work for women, the sperm has to come in contact with an egg. Unprotected sex. But.. doesn't that mean you end up.. Pregnant?" He asks. "I believe so, but I’m not entirely sure. Sex is the only cure because the hormones in the drug heighten all of your senses. Making the implantation of the sperm to be effective immediately.. so yeah. I guess so.” You shrug. He nods his head. After watching the building become a giant burning blaze, he breaks the silence, talking over the crackling and popping of the fire. "I'm going to go scope out that building right there.” He points to a big green building. “You want to check out the other? See what else is inside?" You nod your head. "Yeah sure."

You part ways and as John approaches, he stops when he sees a truck under a lean to. He has an idea. He opens the door and pulls the visor down, to his luck the keys come falling out. He turns the key, smiling when it roars to a start. He backs it up out of the lean to and pulls it closer to the burning building and adjusting it to where the bed of the truck faces the fire. He wanted to at least make the effort. Make this somewhat romantic for you. He goes inside the other building and looks for any kind of bedding inside, finding all kinds of blankets and pillows, bringing them down and laying them down in the bed of the truck. Once it's comfortable and everything is set up, Captain Price is struggling. His cock is rock hard in his jeans and he's sweating. Heart already beating hard in his chest. After a few more minutes, you emerge from the other building, smiling when you see what he's done. "What's this?" You ask. "Ah, just trying to make this more comfortable." The sky is full of stars, nobody is around. Burning building in the background. Perfect setting. He's sitting on the open tailgate of the truck, patting the spot next to him. "Your heart beating fast too?" He asks. You nod your head. He turns to look at you. Bringing his leg up onto the bed to turn more toward you. "You ready for this?" He asks. You nod your head. “Yeah.. you’re getting sexier by the minute as this stuff starts to set in.” You joke. “Oh, I’m already sexy. Always.” He winks. “Yeah, you’re not wrong.”

He swallows hard, leaning into you. The burning in your lower stomach feels a slight amount of relief. Must have something to do with serotonin being released from your brain. He pushes your hair behind your ear, cupping the side of your face with his hand and leaning into you. When his lips meet yours, you feel dizzy. He pulls away almost immediately, eyes closed. "Fucking hell." He laughs. Lowering his head. "Feels fucking good, almost too much." He laughs. "Yeah it does." You laugh. He leans back in, kissing you a little harder this time, deepening the kiss. You melt right into him, and even though neither of you have much of a choice, this somehow feels right. It feels good, how on earth a kiss could feel so good is beyond you. You move up into the bed of the truck, sinking into the blankets beneath you. He hovers over the top of you, kissing you again. He starts rolling his hips into yours and the moans slip from your lips unintentionally, he feels so good against you. He mumbles a few curses under his breath, he feels it too. He helps you remove most of your clothes, shedding his along the way too. Once you're fully naked and ready for each other, he lines himself up with your entrance. "Ah, Please." You pant. “No.. gonna take my time with you sweetheart.” He breathes. His lips trail down your body. Starting with the skin in your throat, he’s biting and sucking the skin. Hearing you moan out is something special. He didn’t know he needed it. He runs his tongue down your stomach, face between your thighs. “Oh fuck…” you whimper, looking down. You get a good look at him. He’s looking back up at you, sparkling eyes in the moonlight. He buries his face into your soaking cunt, lapping at your entrance and swirling his tongue over your clit. He sucks at the sensitive nerve until your legs are shaking and you’re squirming beneath him. “Oh my god!” You cry out. He smiles into you as he drags his tongue over your slit. “Mm.. taste so fucking good.” He breathes. He’s devouring you like you’re his last meal. He has a death grip on your thighs, keeping you still while he tastes you. Not wanting you to move away from him. A mewl leaves your lips and he knows you’re getting close. He pulls away, his face glistening in the moonlight. He kisses back up your stomach and chest, stopping to give your nipples some attention. He lines himself up with your entrance. Looking into your eyes. He sinks into you slowly, drawing a gasp from your lips. It's music to his ears.

Your eyes roll back when he starts thrusting into you at a quick pace. "I'm sorry if I'm rough- you just feel so good." He grits his teeth. "it's okay. I like it." You pant, looking down. You're watching him slide into the cavern between your legs, eyes rolling back at just how sexy it is. It's really starting to set in. You're having sex with your Captain. The Captain who you'd never had anything other than a professional relationship with. The Captain who up until just a couple hours ago you would've considered a friend. Now, dick buried up inside of you. Ready to fill you, potentially knock you up with his kid, and he's okay with it. You don't know that yet, but he's cool with it. He's always wanted to be a dad and you're a real pretty girl anyways. You'd look real cute round with his baby. He kisses you hard, hips plowing into yours as he fucks into you. "You're real beautiful you know?" He groans. Having trouble with an unsteady voice from trying to hold back the moans that desperately want to leave his lips. "I've thought you were real pretty for while, didn't think it'd turn into anything." He chuckles. "I couldn't have been more wrong huh." He smirks. "Guess so. I just.. you're my captain. It's just-ah!" A moan leaves your lips and he smiles. "You can call me John." He leans down, taking a harder thrust than the last. A moan leaving your lips. "Or moan it."

He speeds up his thrusts a little, feeling that familiar pit in his stomach. He's ready for it. Ready to claim you. Fill you up with his cum. You're clutching onto the blankets hard, legs resting up on his thighs. He's got the perfect angle, sliding right into the spongy spot inside of you, sending swarms of butterflies shooting through you. Something about the drug you're on. It's intensifying the pleasure. The dog tag he'd picked up and put on again at some point dangles in your face and the mental image you have of him is filthy, thrusting into you, the truck rocking with every hard thrust he takes. The deep rattle in his chest from his groans. It's too much and it overwhelms you immediately. Your high is creeping up on you quickly and so is his. You glance up at the sky, seeing all of the stars. Your eyes are getting increasingly blurry, your orgasm was right there. "John, I'm gonna cum!" You cry out. He lowers his hand, rubbing circles into your clit. Your mouth parts. Looking up into the sky. "Fuck, me too sweetheart." He groans. His thrusts start to get a little sloppy, he's chasing that high. He keeps rubbing at your clit, sending you into your orgasm. Tears fill your eyes. It's so much, the most pleasure you've ever experienced before. A gasp leaves his lips when he hits his own orgasm. Just then, the blazing building behind him collapses, sparks bellowing off of the rubble. His hips come to a sharp halt. He relaxes into you. Panting hard.

He slides out of you, moving to lay next to you, pulling one of the blankets over the both of you. You're watching the stars and seeing the building slowly burn out. Within the hour, both of you no longer feel the effects of the drugs that had been injected into you.

The next morning, it's cold when you stir awake because he is moving. He's sitting on the tailgate again and you pull the blanket up over you as you sit up. The building is nothing but ashes, still smoking. The wind is blowing just a little and it's still pretty dark. "Made it through the night." He smiles. "Yeah.. we did." You laugh. "Hell of a story." He smirks. "Yeah.. I'd say. Suppose we won't say that to our kid." You chuckle. "If there is one anyways." You lay back down. "I hope so." He mumbles under his breath, making your eyes widen. "What?"

"What?"

#call of duty mw2 #soap mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #captain john price #price mw2 #alejandro mw2 #captain price #johnny soap mactavish #mw2 smut #john price #john price x reader

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macgyvermedical · 2 months ago

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Hello Ross!

Came across your post reblogged by @msbarrows. Sorry if you've been asked this before, but what are some good steps to take now before the new regime comes into effect in January?/RFK Jr brain worm antivaxxer BS.

Thank you in advance.

I know just about every post on the subject says this, but- get your vaccines up to date. Buy yourself a nice TDaP from the CVS for Christmas. The Department of Health and Human Services (of which RFK Jr will have control) oversees the CDC and the FDA. While it would be unlikely he would go for an all-out ban on vaccines, he could make vaccines a hell of a lot more optional and refuse to approve new ones. Considering another goal of the administration is to repeal the ACA, that would mean childhood vaccinations would no longer be covered by private insurance (I was a child prior to the ACA and my mom paid $750 to get (fully insured) me vaccinated (about $1,638 in today's dollars). Meaning people will likely not be able to afford vaccines even if they wanted them. And a combination of expense + lack of mandate would mean a drastic reduction in the number of people who get vaccinated. While vaccines are less effective without community (herd) immunity, they are still great at keeping you from dying. So get them while they're available and covered.

Get your records. Download or request as many of your own medical records (and those of your children!) as you can. You can get most of your records through MyChart or other online portals. If you received medical care before electronic charting, you'll have to directly contact your hospital or clinic's records department to see if they can send you copies. Save them in hard copies in a binder or at least on a flash drive or disc you have the ability to read from a computer. This makes your medical care portable if you have to see a new doctor without a lot of time to plan.

If you're on more than one medication, have a "medication reconciliation" appointment with your doctor. Learn what meds you are on and know what each of them do. Call your pharmacy and learn how much they cost without insurance. Ask your doctor if there are any cheaper alternatives that treat the same things. In the case of an ACA repeal and loss of drug coverage, you're going to want to know so you can make an informed decision about which drugs you buy.

Get your mental health straightened out as much as possible. RFK Jr. has said things against antidepressants and other psych medications. While again, he's probably not going to ban them (Think of the lost productivity! Think of the pharmaceutical companies losing revenue!) he may make it hella difficult for new antidepressant meds to be approved.

Get on long-term birth control of you can get pregnant and don't want to be. The copper IUD is the longest lasting form of birth control and can prevent pregnancy for more than 10 years, but hormonal IUDs can last 7 or more. Each has their own side effects and benefits. You can always get it removed later if you change your mind, but getting access to birth control might become difficult.

Have any semi-elective procedures done ASAP. At least get them scheduled. If the ACA is repealed you may not qualify for health insurance and you really don't want to have to pay for a surgery out of pocket. Plus, if the FDA becomes less reliable, you're going to want any tools or implants used in that surgery to still be safe.

Get new glasses. If you have vision insurance, get a new pair of glasses (not contacts) now with your most up-to-date prescription.

Get any dental work you've been putting off done if you currently have dental insurance. Get a cleaning and any preventative care done you need too.

#US politics

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itneverendshere · 2 years ago

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Can I request a Rafe x reader smut where she cheats on her bf with Rafe and at an event where she's with her boyfriend she notices Rafe staring at her and all the flashbacks leave her horny and needy for his touch and his touch only. Maybe some angst with her boyfriend catching them in the act.

should've said it - rafe cameron

warnings: cheating; smut; ex friends with benefits; angst!!; heartbreak; mentions of drugs; part ii

Rafe Cameron used to be your drug. One touch and the intoxication was instant and mutual; one touch and it was over.

Whatever he wanted to do is what you two did and there wasn’t a thing you could do to stop him — not that you’d want to. Once the door to his bedroom closed every pretense fell.

The pretentious Rafe Cameron everyone knew was never present, it was just you and him. His other self. Truth was, you fell in love with a version of a person you created in your head. But it was his fault.

Before the door was even closed, he wrapped his muscular arms around you from behind. His right hand dropped to your thigh, pulling up the skirt that hung so loosely just above your ass. You knew exactly how to dress to get a rise out of him. Hell, you could be covered from head to toe, and he’d still drool at the sight of you.

You couldn't move even if you tried. He turned you around as you stumbled to his bed, his blue eyes searching yours. You smiled and kissed him back as he knew you would. You felt his mouth stretching wider than it should, fighting between grinning and kissing. You'd done this so many times and it kept on getting better.

The facade he’d show to the rest of the world melted away and all you wanted was each other. Every kiss was a raw intensity - breathing fast, heart rates faster. Then before you knew how it happened, you were both naked, skin moving softly together.

You felt his hand from below moving fast, tongues entwined in a kiss, and then he was inside, changing your breathing with every thrust, hearing your moans timed to his body. Then all at once he stopped and kissed your breasts to your stomach, his hands light, so different from what you were used to seeing; then he licked and used his fingers all at once, watching your reaction, feeling how your legs moved, watching your body writhe.

“Gonna beg for it, pretty?”

You just let out a moan, unable to articulate a proper answer. In seconds he was on you again, fucking you harder, just long enough to intoxicate your mind before stopping again. If it was begging he wanted, he was going to have to stop long enough for your brain to start working again first. You felt electricity in your skin, hormones shutting down. From there on in it was all passion, intense, intoxicating.

It was your release, your escape, your drug... the chemistry was always all-consuming,

Until it wasn’t enough. Until you wanted more, and he didn’t.

The argument grew from nowhere into a tornado.

He said nothing first, just looked at you. You could see the thoughts swirling around, see him decide what he was going to say. His entire demeanor changed, and your heart shattered.

“Pretty, you’re not in love with me.”

And that’s when you realized, you should’ve kept your mouth shut. Your chest burned at the fire in his tone, how he sounded so sure of himself. His stare hit you and you let out a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his eye, “I am.”

He grabbed your wrists then, curling his long, rough fingers around them and swiping his thumbs across your knuckles, “You don’t. You—you’re just confused, yeah?”

“Confused?” Your tone was accusing. You knuckles went white, “Are you fucking kidding me Rafe?”

He abruptly took a step back, making sure there was enough distance between you two. You bit the inside of your cheek, as you focused in on him. “It’s sex,” he let out, jaw clenched, “It’s just sex, between two good friends. Why are you trying to complicate everything?”

You gripped the shirt you were wearing, his shirt, distracting yourself from the tears that kept welling in your eyes. The bitterness was rising like bile into your mouth. You were so sure he was in love with you. So sure, you’d created an entirely safe space for him in your heart and there he was crushing it like it meant absolutely nothing.

Like you meant nothing, as if you were dirt under his shoes.

“You know what,” You weren't sure what was hurting more, the piercing ache in your heart, or the crushing sensation everywhere, but you found the courage to speak, “You’re right.”

“Good, now can we stop this nonsense?” his tone was uncharacteristically harsh. Rafe Cameron never raised his voice at you before, “Come here—“

You interrupted, voice cracking as the anger mixed with all the sadness you felt in your chest and burned you alive. “You’re absolutely fucking right. The boy you were, the one I fell in love with, my best friend, would have kicked your ass all over this goddamn room for talking to me like that. You were someone. You were that guy, and clearly, you’re not him anymore.”

That was your last conversation with Rafe over the past two years. The moment you walked out of his room, the moment he didn’t even try to follow you or explain himself, ended whatever fantasy you’d created. You blocked him everywhere, avoided spending summers back home, and most importantly, you never stepped foot in the same place as him. Ever again.

Until that day. A week ago.

The summer night sky was clear, the moon shining it's light down on Outer Banks. It was a beautiful night, perfect for being wrapped in the arms of your boyfriend. And for a moment, you were able to pretend that you were happy, that this is where you were meant to be.

A kiss was pressed to your cheek, the arm around your waist squeezing tighter in what was supposed to be a loving gesture. It was Blake. The son of a woman with more money than anyone in your hometown, the same man whose arms were gripping you.

Blake has helped you when you needed it the most, and you’d returned the favor over the years. He was the kind of guy girls from your society dreamt to marry one day. He was a good guy.

And it was heartbreaking, truly heartbreaking how you’d managed to fuck up the entire situation. A good, solid, almost two year-old relationship, flushed down the drain for Rafe fucking Cameron.

Again.

He walked in as if he knew he still held some twisted power over you as if he were a god and you wondered why the hell the universe had led you there on that night. Rafe in a nice suit, was nothing new but God did it make your heart feel heavy. Eventually, before he could see you and ruin your life all over again, you came up with an excuse. Something along the lines of needing to use the bathroom and Blake, being the good guy he was didn’t even question you twice before letting you go.

Slowly, you walked along the freshly cut grass, keeping your head as low as possible. You needed to get him out of your system, from your mind, but even years later it seemed impossible. He always found his way to your heart and comfortably sat at the forefront of your brain.

Once you reached the recently furnished kitchen you stopped in your tracks, the silence giving you some sort of peace. You leaned against the grey marble counter, pushing a fallen piece of hair behind your shoulder, taking another deep breath as you drew your head back, feeling a breeze rustle through the room, cooling your body from the warm summer heat.

“Hi, pretty.”

You instantly tensed, recognizing the voice the moment it left his lips. For a few seconds, you deliberated between running back outside or scrambling for a weapon. But you knew you’d lose if you did. Years later, and your body was still used to him, letting your guard down.

Turning to him, you held your breath, your hands balled into fists. You blinked, warily taking a step back.

“Rafe.”

“It’s been a while.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut."

“Can’t imagine why.”

He gently parted his lips in retaliation but instead chuckled to himself. His eyes scanned over you as he inhaled sharply, and it almost felt like you’d traveled back in time.

"I missed you." He looked deep into you eyes, in a way you thought you’d never see again. In a way that awakened too many memories.

How did you even get yourself into this situation? Standing in front of the guy who broke your heart, talking about how much he missed you.

"I’m not used to you being so quiet." He chuckled, “I would expect dozen of insults coming my way at this point."

And then red. All you could see was red.

“You want insults?”

Your feet moved, as if they had a mind of their own, pushing your body towards his. Your hands balled in fists as you attempt to take deep breaths, but the anger you felt right in the middle of your chest wasn’t helping.

Rafe reached his hand out to rest on your forearm, watching the way you flinched away from his touch. His blue eyes winced closed as if you were the one inflicting him pain, how ironic.

“I’ll take anything you give me.”

“You deserve nothing, Cameron.”

He took a hesitant step closer to you, his hands out in surrender. Rafe’s stoic face faltered as he watched your chest heave. “I just wanna apologize to you.”

Your eyes began to well with tears, your heart grieved at the way your body still craved his.

“Too little too late for that, no?” You were using all you willpower to keep yourself from crumbling into his arms, “Apologize for what exactly? Fucking me and disposing of me like trash?”

Ouch.

He winced at your harsh truth, “For not telling you I was in love with you.”

Your body lunged towards the boy, a man now, your finger pushing against his chiseled chest, the force caught him off guard, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Your heart hurt so so so much, you couldn’t understand how it was still beating.

“M sorry, I fucked up. I love—“

“Shut the fuck up! You don’t get to do this to me!” you hissed, “You’re absolutely crazy. I don’t know if it’s all the coke getting into your head, but you need to stop this.”

Rafe chuckled, not seeming the least bit fazed by your dirty dab at him, shaking his head once before pursuing you again. “I’m sober now. Have been.”

His dark hair fell into his eyes, his dress jacket missing for some reason unknown to you. The sight knocked the air out of your lungs before you took a forceful breath and ripped yourself out of his reach.

“I’m happy for you Rafe, but you need to stop.”

“Why?” His eyes shined with an emotion you could almost pinpoint, only because that was how you’d always looked at him, “I'm better now pretty, I got better for me and you.”

“It's too late, Rafe.”

There’s a long pause as he seems to gather himself enough to push through the conversation, the inevitable, his heart turning heavier with each second that passes.

“Because of him?” His voice comes out timid and low as if he was afraid of scaring you off. The Rafe you knew would be having a jealous fit by now, “Blake, is it?"

Twenty-year-old Rafe Cameron would be making inappropriate jokes using your boyfriend's name.

“Yes, and because you are you, and I am me. You shouldn’t be here in the first place.”

“Do you love him?” he asked, a small smile playing on his lips. So different from the smirk you were used too. You blinked once, trying to speak, his question catching you off guard.

You noticed how his eyes bore into yours, as they then flicker down to your lips. You couldn’t help but do the same, tongue pocking out to lick at your bottom lip.

“That’s none of your business,” Your voice came out sharp, coming across as annoyed because you really didn't need him to crawl back into your skin. As if he never left.

“You don’t love him.”

“Stop.”

He pulled you closer and you lost your balance, stumbling into him. He catched you by the waist and kept you upright. But this new position brought your lips an inch away from each other. You came to your senses and pulled away slightly while looking down at your shoes.

“Tell me you love him, and I’ll walk away.”

This was it. This was the part where you told him you were in love with someone else, even though you were clearly lying and he gave you one last fleeting look, saw you off to go back to Blake.

He hated the silence. But he’d take any part of you he could get, even if it meant being a friend at the very least. Even if it meant continuously breaking his heart because God knows he deserves it.

He hated himself for letting you go. Time seemed to slow down, everything feeling fuzzy. You hadn't felt this nervous since you confessed to him two years ago.

“I hate you.”

It happened in a blur.

Rafe’s lips were electric, wherever they touched your skin tingled in a frenzy of static. As his hands moved over your skin, one of them tipped your chin back as the other one reached for your neck. Your body had a transitory paralysis, your mind seemed unable to process the pleasure so fast.

His head moved around to your left ear and he whispered what was coming next, lips brushing against your cheek, exactly where Blake had kissed you minutes ago. “Let me show you,” He could barely form a proper sentence as your hands moved down past his collarbone, “Let me show you, please.”

His brain was on fire. His girl with fingertips of flames was touching him again.

Suddenly your body was off pause mode and you pulled him back for a kiss, hands tangled in his shirt collar. The kiss somehow felt both soft and hard. Both of you moved like you weren't in a public area where anyone could easily see you. And in any other scenario, you’d been scrambling to get away, too embarrassed to make a move, but this was Rafe.

You weren't sure how you two made it to a room, but there you were.

He completely hovered over your frame, his hands on either side of your body as he rested his weight on them. The little hairs on the back of your neck stood straight as he kissed the skin there, before continuing his speech with his lips against your skin. “You’re sure?”

Your teeth gently bit down on your bottom lip “Yeah.”

It wasn’t the first time for either of you or your first time together. His soft lips moved against yours slowly, as you bit his bottom lip and an almost feral groan left his mouth before meeting yours again fervently. Your own arms went to wrap around his neck, using your hands to tug at the hair at the nape his neck.

When he pulled back you chased his lips again subconsciously. “Let me taste you,” he was out of breath, hair disheveled, lips red and swollen. He looked beautiful. “Baby?”

"Okay,” you whimpered, tightening your grip on his hair.

That clearly wasn’t how you intended to spend the night. But when his hands lowered to the waistband of your panties and he looked up at you, mouth still on your neck as if to ask for permission. You threw every single coherent thought out the window, automatically lifting your hips to help him.

“Fuck, look at you,” He brought his middle finger to push into your folds, “So fucking pretty."

You stretched back into the bed, back flexing as his mouth finally met home. The movement forced your pussy further into his face, and Rafe groaned into you, locking your thighs around his arms.

Your breathing hitched, choking wet in your throat as he kept those eyes on you. “Rafe—“ you started, throwing an arm over your eyes, “God.”

Despite the tight grip he had on you, you were so lost in your pleasure you managed to buck your hips up, fingers tangling in his short strands of blonde hair to assist you grinding against his mouth, more specifically, his tongue. Your whimpers echoed through the quiet bedroom, feeling the pressure he was using to swirl your clit around.

“So sweet,” he groaned, the sound echoing through you, “Never getting enough of you.”

Rafe still knew your body like the palm of his hands, he knew you liked it messy and dirty, and deep. He spitted into your wet pussy, using his middle finger to drag against your puffy hole. Your eyes were solely focused on his ring as his finger slipped inside, pressing up and tight to the knuckle.

“Fuck, fuck.”

You were torn between never letting him stop or pushing him back so you could just ride him. He slowly dragged two fingers in and out, sucking your clit at the same time as your thighs started to tremble.

“That’s it, baby.” he cooed, as he looked up at you with his tongue in your clit, pressing his fingers tighter as your eyes rolled back.

“Rafe,” you whimpered, barely balancing yourself on your elbows, “’Mmm, god, don’t stop.”

“Never stopping.”

Your head fell back onto the soft silky pillows, griding into his mouth again, “Rafe, oh my god oh my—“ And you came around his mouth, whole body tightening with pleasure, clenching your thighs around his head, as you moaned his name, still coming, your slick coating his chin.

Before any of you could catch a break, your hands were pulling him upwards towards you, lips taking over his as you tasted yourself on his tongue, and for a second there, you almost came a second time.

You gripped the waistband of his trousers, eagerly trying to tug them down.

“’Trying to make me cum in my pants, pretty?”

“Need you inside me, now.”

It was almost hilarious how you could easily recollect every single moment from that night, including the part when you ran off the second Rafe fell asleep by your side. Only when you stepped out of the bedroom, out of that house, did the guilt hit you like a ton of bricks. You should be ashamed, really. You were.

Kind of.

You had a boyfriend, but you fucked the guy you’d been in love with for years, then proceed to leave him in the dust for an entire week, avoiding any sort of contact or confrontation. You were terrified.

Funnily enough, the fear came from whatever you still felt for Rafe, from not being able to control yourself around him. There wasn't a single bone in your body that was slightly concerned about Blake finding out about your little randezvous. Did that make you a horrible person? You cared for him. You did. But he wasn't Rafe.

The question was: how were you going to face Rafe ever again?

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nottivagos · 5 hours ago

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(Psst, read this!) Welcome Notti's "Not So Innocent" Notebook where I write some filth to make your Monday a little bit better <3 || 18+ mdni pls and ty

You and Mafia!Carlos Sainz have a messy kind of relationship. A tension that doesn't seem to dissipate as you both end up together, unable to keep your hands off one and other every time.

an: guys is my music inspo getting boring now because this is ANOTHER NOTEBOOK ENTRY inspired by a tiny lyric. anywho, the song is called "Sickly Sweet" by NewDad if you want to give it a listen!

You couldn’t do it again. Not now, not ever.

Strongly gripping onto your wine glass, you bit your tongue in irritation, deeply lost in your irked thoughts. How could you have been so careless? You’d told yourself over and over and even more over again that you wouldn’t be drawn into his wicked games. But here you were, standing around looking pretty, drawn to his estate like a moth to a flame.

Carlos Sainz was trouble. Big trouble, at that. He always had been. If he wasn’t trouble, he wouldn’t have acclaimed the reputation he did throughout Madrid. A dark shadow cast across the city, bringing Hell and suffering with it, crashing onto the innocent citizens like a wave.

Filthy businesses, the elites he’d been able to buy and bribe, large, wealthy empires built on crimson bloodshed that stained the pavements, people used as leverage and intel on the daily— the bitter reality churned with the burning alcohol in your stomach, the thought making you sick.

Maybe it was the thrill you clung onto. The fact that it wasn’t right, the knowledge that it never would be right morally, that kept making you crawl back hopelessly. The adrenaline of unleashing the beast inside of him, the sexual ferocity in his grip as he groped and touched every inch of your skin, the passion that coursed and shocked like electricity inside both of your bodies as you made messy love.

It’s not like it ended any differently. The finale was like clockwork, limbs tangled in twisted satin sheets, hands ever so gently intertwined, dried sweat and other human juices clinging onto your bare bodies as you bathed in the early morning sunlight— dishevelled, but content. Sexual bliss, or even a honeymoon period, perhaps as you crashed down from the high.

The feeling was too comfortable. It always was. It felt domesticated, too loving, too simple, as he pressed a soft kiss to the temple and muttered, “I love you, I’m sorry.” whilst you both stirred. Words and actions you’d felt and heard from the kingpin too many times before.

God, he was a walking juxtaposition. How the hell could a man so beautifully clean, fresh, neat and trimmed be so sickening to the stomach because of his occupation? His name? His status?

It was an intoxicating love affair. As if you both shared a sweet bite of each other, (in this instance, the sex), before the taste soured in your mouth, a bottomless pit of dread and regret pooling inside you, corrupting the one inkling of peace you’d both had together.

Messy was the only way to describe the ordeal. Maybe a good type of messy, (the type of messy that made you feel like a hormonal teenager experiencing sex for the first time– the type that makes your insides flip and turn fuzzy), because you were drawn deeper and deeper into his dark world of criminal boss madness.

Carlos himself wasn’t any better. To him, you were as addictive as a drug he desperately tried to quit, becoming love-drunk in your presence. Before he then inevitably fell into an obsessive spiral into getting you back. Not only in his arms, but in his bed, and fully in his life again.

Everything about you, in Carlos’s eyes anyways, was overwhelmingly magnetic. Soft curves and contours that complimented the sleazy designer dresses you wore like it was made solely for your body alone; plump, reddened lips that the sweetest of moans escaped from; pretty tits he could rub and pinch whenever he pleased; the wonderfully curved ass he cupped and slapped with ease; the richness of the colour of your hair, flowing graciously off of your shoulders…

It was a feeling and vivid memory he wanted to cling onto forever.

So that’s how you ended up here, dolled up and looking lavish on behalf of the Spaniard’s request, at one of his drab social events held at his estate. Gazes burnt holes into your form, men armed silently with guns and noticeably double your age, ogling dangerously for a second too long.

The air was suffocating. The clientele inside Sainz’s compound stunk of wealth, a fortune you yourself didn’t have. Lost in thought, you bit the inside of your cheek, the metallic bitterness simmering on your tongue.

“Thought I might’ve found you here, princesa,” a deep, thick accented voice spoke from the side of you, breaking your stream of consciousness. “Tense as always, I see,” the innocent tease made the man chuckle, despite your lack of amusement.

“Carlos,” you acknowledged, body burning but still looking ahead, before taking a brief sip from your glass.

“Do I not get the privilege of seeing your eyes?” he asked, before tutting disapprovingly. “It’s not polite to look away when someone’s speaking to you, nena,” he added, giving you a knowing glance.

The nicknames made your jaw tense and lock into place, the whites of your knuckles more visible as your body language tightened, posture stiffening. “Maybe you don’t deserve the privilege of seeing my face,” you bit back, voice spewing venom with each syllable.

He tutted again unamused by your witty remarks, arm coming to ghost over your shoulder, fingertips lazily brushing against your back. “That’s not very nice, is it?” he murmured lowly into your ear, words pooling thickly like honey. “Anyways, if you didn’t want to see me, then you wouldn’t be here.”

That comment wounded you even more. The tight coil of your wit nearly snapping as you couldn’t describe your emotion. Was it anger? Envy? Lust? The feeling unfathomable as you pressed the wine glass to your lips in response, drinking the rest of the liquid in one gulp, allowing the burning sensation to scorch your throat.

Tiny touches toyed with the flimsy straps of your dress, whilst you both looked forward, the silence heavy and palpable in the bustle of Carlos’s closest contacts and filthy assets who paraded the largely decorated room.

A faint flush burnt into your cheeks, gaze and tone dismissive, “I came for the free booze.”

“And now you’re a liar!” he exclaimed with amusement. His accent was like tar, low and gooey, as hot breath brushed against the shell of your ear, “We both know why you’re here. What's the point in lying, sweetheart?”

You bit the inside of your cheek again, nervous hands now playing with the hem of your skirt as Carlos continued to trail his own against your back, his motions creating soft, spontaneous patterns against the bare flesh.

“Can we go someplace quieter?” you blurted, eyes finally meeting his doe brown ones for the first time of the evening. “It’s stifling in here,” you muttered, a clammy palm rubbing against your arm slightly awkwardly.

Flashing his signature wolfish grin, he hummed contently. “That,” he began, the hand ghosting your back coming to snake around your waist, giving your hip a slight squeeze, “I can do, mi vida.”

Gazes burnt into you as other members of the party watched you leave the lavish hall with Carlos by your side. The winding corridors made the music seem distant, the melodies now distorted and humming faintly.

His eyes were hungry, you could sense that, as his spare hand came to grip the brass door handle in front of you, swinging the door open. “After you,” he motioned with such grace, stalking closely behind as you walked into the room.

Carlos Sainz’s office also reeked of wealth. The antique oak bookcases lining the walls, vintage leather chairs surrounding the polished wooden desk, his own portrait— hand painted with precision— staring down at you with that same authoritative glint in his animated eye.

“Is this more to your liking, darling?” His voice quickly broke you out of your drifting consciousness, a large hand coming to grip your wrist gently, before pressing your back into the edge of the desk in the middle of the room.

Briefly nodding, suddenly your shallow breathing mingled with his own steady breaths, the tension electric, dark eyes locking onto your wide ones.

“You don't know how badly I want you,” he mumbled, nose nuzzling your own as his hand slipped from your wrist to cupping your burning cheek. “How badly I need this,” his voice was breathy, the heat from his words dangerously fanning against your lips.

A gentle thumb brushed against the apple of your cheek, a crawling flush following in the calloused pad’s wake. Your own hand snaked around to his neck, “I want it too,” a whispered response followed as the slight pressure pushed his lips softly onto your own.

His smoky musk-like taste seeped into your mouth, as your lips magnetically intertwined, fighting for dominance. Breathing hitched, soft moans and groans echoed around the room when Carlos’s tongue dipped into your mouth. Frantic hands groping each other followed, tugging at any fabric they could grasp in your shared lustful frenzy.

Like a lone spark reacting with oxygen, the passion rekindled swiftly, the intensity of the flame rising as heat pooled to your core. Shared saliva mingled in your mouth, his tongue twisting and gliding over your own as his lips muffled your growing whimpers and moans. Fingers digging into your hips, lifting you onto the oak table with ease, kissing with the same passion as before.

Frantic fingers fumbled with his shirt’s buttons, before the fabric finally fell off of his back, your nails digging into his shoulders, muscles flexing in the shimmering moonlight. A breathy gasp escaped your lips as his own hungry fingertips found your flimsy straps again, pulling down your dress so it was hanging on your stomach, breasts spilling out gracefully.

His fingertips found your nipples, rolling the nubs into hardened, sensitive peaks as a whine escaped, silenced by another searing kiss. His hardening erection ground into your clothed cunt, the sensation burning your core, sending shocks of pleasure around your overheating body, his hands gripping your boobs in a lusty death grip.

“Carlos—” you whined breathlessly against his lips, hips bucking against his clothed cock like a bitch in heat. “Please…” you pleaded, puppy eyes meeting his darkened brown ones.

That small voice spoke volumes. His belt left his trousers, the soft clink heard as it dropped to the floor. Arms tangled around your half-naked body as his large palms left your breasts, pushing you against the cold oak, the sensation against your back tingling.

His pants slid down his legs, resting at his ankles as he allowed his hard length to bounce back as he revealed it from his boxers slowly, eye contact intense as he did so.

“Is this what you want?” a guttural, deep voice questioned as he gave the already throbbing shaft a few pumps, pre-cum angrily leaking from its tip. “Show me that you want it,” he challenged with a hungry growl.

Within an instant, your hands glided down to your burning cunt, fingertips hooking underneath your panties waistband, before pulling them down to your ankles as well.

Back arched as you dipped two fingers into your pulsing clit, spreading your pussy apart for him to see, juices leaking onto the desk below you, pooling as you panted.

“Please, Carlos,” you begged helplessly again, your bottom lip bouncing back from being caught in your teeth, chest rising and falling erratically with your overbearing need for him. “I need you.”

Carlos licked his lips at the sight of your leaking cunt, large hands coming to grip your thighs tightly, keeping them spread with ease.

He pointed the reddened tip at your folds, before thrusting deeply into your pussy in one sharp movement. A loud moan escaped your lips, hips bucking upwards to meet his controlled thrusts deep into your cunt.

Thumb trailed to your clit, adding extra stimulation as he twirled circles around it, allowing more moans to escape your lips uncontrollably. Eyes began to roll back in pleasure as your walls fluttered against Carlos’s cock, chasing your release relentlessly.

“Fuck, so good f’me, princesa,” he gruffly panted, gripping your thighs so tightly they started to bruise, thrusts deeper and harder as he chased his own release with gritted teeth. His mind was going fuzzy with the pleasure, the only sounds heard from inside the room being low groans and high pitched moans.

The coiled tightened in your stomach, the intensity of your orgasm reaching its peak as you cried out, hips moving with Carlos’s raging rhythm, walls fluttering against his cock, tightly milking him dry as your eyes went fully backwards.

You gasped, eyes widened as you rode out your high, followed with Carlos pushing himself deep inside of you, his cum shooting out of his length, your walls squeezing him dry as the ropes leaked out of your aching cunt.

Smiling whilst dazed, Carlos slipped his softening dick out of your pussy. You giggled, “thank you, Carlos,” you added with a cheeky grin, your combined juices leaking down your thigh onto the desk below.

He laughed a breathy laugh in return, lips lingering above your temple, before pressing a soft kiss there. “You're welcome, cariño,” he chuckled with a smirk, before straightening himself up, reaching for his boxers.

“You better get yourself cleaned, princesa. There's still a party happening to attend,” he hummed contently.

mafia carlos IM RIGHT HERE BABY. i don't care if your job is toxic and crazy as shit I'M RIGHT HERE. i'm going to lose the plot. - notti <3

#nottivagos #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 scenarios #carlos sainz #f1 x reader #carlos #carlos sainz drabbles #f1 carlos #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz imagines #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz jr #scuderia ferrari #cs55

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deathofacupid · 8 months ago

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i'll always take care of you | clay jensen

a/n: this post saved me! posting another clay fic fully aware it's going to flop...

summary: clay hates parties, but if you're going, he's going too. someone's gotta watch out for you, right?

warnings: underage drinking, mention of drugs, cursing

pairing: fem!reader x clay jensen

word count: 1.2k+ words

he swears, he swears, he took his eyes off you for less than five minutes to pee. in his defense, clay didn't think you'd go missing in that short amount of time. (okay, he tells himself, maybe "missing" isn't the right word choice if he wants to stay calm.)

now, he thinks - knows - otherwise. clay regrets not asking one his sober friends to watch you, because who knows what might've happened to you?

and now that he's acknowledged the fact something might've happned to you, he's spiraling. hey, at least he's self aware of the fact he's spiraling, right?

yeah, okay, so that doesn't make things better.

he asks around, but the music is too loud, so most people don't even hear him. and if they do hear him, they're "busy". whether it's dancing, grinding, or drinking, he's reached the conclusion that no one gives shits.

he's frantically going back and forth, room to room. clay tries your phone a number of times, though he isn't suprised when it goes straight to voicemail.

as he shoves past more people, heading to the kitchen where the drinks are at (you might be there), his mind is racing with every possibility.

what if someone took advantage of you? and it was all his fault? be, god, did he not learn all the previous times?

he shoulders a drunk couple, and scans the area. empty bottles, alcohol not not, trash the counters, and a number of cabinets are left open. clay takes a few step fowards, accidently kicking a can. he pick it up, and in the process, sees a girl... just lying there.

he makes a face, before realizing it's not just any girl. it's his girlfriend. it's... you.

"y/n? what the hell? where's your phone at? i've been looking for you everywhere!" he exclaims, trying to pull you up.

"shh. sh. look at those stars. god, i just love the ursa major."

"we're inside. those are the ceiling lights," clay says. he doesn't think he's ever met someone who gets drunk like you.

"oh. well, it's still magical."

"yeah, lord praise the electrican," with a slight struggle, he pulls you up to your feet, and you don't resist.

"how much did you have to drink?" he mutters, and it's mostly rhetorical.

"yes, i am."

"no, that's not- never mind. we're leaving."

"nooo. why? we just got here!"

"oh, yeah," he rolls his eyes, "we just got here 3 hours ago."

you whine again, but he just sighs. you aren't normally a heavy drinker, but when you do decide to get out of that comfort zone, you go all out.

currently, it felt like he was dragging around a hormonal toddler. 0/10 experience, he does not recommend. of course, he'll happily do it anyways.

ask anybody really, clay's completely whipped for you. he hasn't felt this was since hannah, and even then, it doesn't feel the same.

it feels deeper.

part of him is afraid he's gonna mess this up, and that his love for you has peaked. but he looks right at you, and realizes that it never will.

"come on, angel," he says, almost pleadingly. the way your eyes gleam at the nickname he's just dropped has him all giddy.

"okie," you make grabby-hands at them.

"is this- are you asking me to carry you?" clay knows very well it wouldn't work out well. he's so greatful you look past his physical strength.

you shrug. "well," clay presses his lips together, "it looks like you can in fact walk, so... let's get to it."

he takes a step to you, and you stumble straight into his arms. clay darts a hand to your lower back to steady you, "whoa."

"i'm good!" you slur.

"and off we go, drunkie."

"'m... i'm not a," you pause, hiccupping, trying to remember the word he used.

"uh, at this moment, you are." he leads you to the front door, and he's so focused on helping you take steps forward, he completely slams into someone.

clay falters back as you fall out of your grip. but as he realizes what's happened, he sees that justin's caught you, and you're pressed up against him. "oh," you murmur, "well, hello there, handsome."

"yeah, okay, no," clay loops your arm back around him, stealing you back from his brother.

"alas, i'm taken," justin sighs. "and you are too. forbidden love, huh?"

clay rolls his eyes, for what feels like the millionth time tonight. "y/n's, like, shit-faced."

"i can see that. you taking her home?"

"your parents are out of town, right?" he asks, turning back to you.

"my... my parents?" you ask, "i have-?"

clay makes eye contact with justin. "she'll stay the night. i don't want her home alone. i assume you'll..." he grimaces, "stay the night with jess?"

"oh, you know it, bro."

clay makes a face, picturing his brother having sex isn't great. he knows he doesn't have to tell justin to do the right thing.

"cool. then you won't need a ride back."

"nope. you aren't drunk, right?"

"i'm the designated driver," clay replies.

"cool. night, by the way," he says, giving the two of you a quick hug.

"goodnight!" you sing-song, individually sounding out ever syllable.

he opens the car door for you, and you squint off into the distance. "look at the moon. it's so pretty. you're almost as pretty."

clay follows your eye line. "that... that is a street-lamp."

you shrug, "you're almost as pretty."

"gee, thanks."

"don't be jealous?"

"it's hard to not envy a street-lamp."

you giggle drunkenly, and a small smile flits over his face, "you're adorable," he tells you.

"i know," you say, matter-of-factly.

"aww, what an adorable narcissist."

"very."

clay chuckles and closes the door, getting in from the other side.

“where are we going?” you ask, squinting at the rear-view mirror in awe. “oh my, that’s me,” you whisper.

"a; my place, b; that's your reflection. wild, right?"

"whoa," is all you respond with. you pull on your seatbelt, adjusting it so you can turn to face him in your seat. "i really, really love you."

"well, you're in luck," he smiles, "the feeling's mutual."

he tries to keep up with your nonsensical blabber, but he doesn't know if he's done a good job. either way, clay's just pulled into the parking lot, turning the ignition off.

"all right," he turns to look at you, exiting from his side, and over to yours. unbuckling your belt for you, clay helps you out.

"to the shed we go!" you cheer, not very quietly. clay clamps a hand over your mouth, "you could quite literally not be any louder."

you bite his hand, and he yelps, pulling it away. "yes, i could!" you argue.

"trust me, i don't wanna test that theory out."

"your loss."

"not really."

the first thing he does is help you change into comfier clothes, an old shirt of his and basketball shorts that don't fit him anymore. clay doesn't have a reason to keep makeup wipes around, but he adds them to his mental shopping list for next time. he grabs a clean rag and wets it with warm water, gently wiping off the makeup.

then it's just you and his in the outhouse, pressed against each other under covers.

"tired?" he asks. you nod simply in reply.

"yeah, me too. now i have a good idea of being a dad is like." he chuckles at his own stupid joke, thinking that if you were sober, you'd say something silly like "okay, daddy".

"thanks for..." you trail off, yawning. clay kisses your forehead.

"i'll always take care of you."

#clay jensen imagine #clay jensen fluff #clay jensen #clay jensen fanfic #clay jensen x reader #13rw #13rw self insert #thirteen reasons why

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cherienymphe · 2 years ago

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When The Party’s Over XX (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON touching, DUB-CON, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, forced pregnancy, toxic relationship, violence, jealousy, stalking, underage drinking, drug use, manipulation, corruption, public sex, innocent reader, Heyward!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @silkholland

➥ series masterlist

summary: Manipulated into a secret relationship with Rafe Cameron, you’re finding it much easier said than done to do the right thing and walk away…especially when he refuses to let you.

“…and there’s the heartbeat.”

You stared at the screen, your own heart beating in time with that of the baby’s in your stomach. You swallowed, gaze roaming over the monitor and feeling…weird. You knew you were pregnant, had known for weeks, but being confronted with the evidence in such a glaring way made your head spin more than expected. The sound of its heart was so loud in the otherwise quiet room, and Rose softly gasped.

You had not wanted Rafe in the room.

At all.

It had sparked a disagreement that was only settled when Rose stepped in.

“Rafe, if she doesn’t want you there then she doesn’t want you there,” the older woman had said. “She’s carrying your child. Let’s pick our battles, okay? She doesn’t need any stress.”

Rafe’s entire visage had clouded over, and you had ignored the feel of his cold gaze all the way to the doctor. You blinked at the monitor, surprised by how your eyes watered, and you struggled to swallow.

“Oh, honey,” Rose said, grabbing you a tissue.

“Sorry,” you tearfully apologized, wiping your eyes.

You didn’t even know why you were crying. Surely that whole hormone thing couldn’t start this early. All of it was just so overwhelming. You’d thought about motherhood a lot growing up, always knowing you’d want to be one someday, but you’d never imagined like this. You never imagined this early, and with Rafe of all people.

This was a moment that should’ve been happy, and it was in a way, but it felt wrong to think. Let alone even say. Rafe had raped you, had cornered you into going through with this, and as awful as the circumstances were, you couldn’t deny how almost excited you were to have a baby. The excitement, however, was more than dampened by everything revolving around the situation.

“Do you want to know the sex?”

You looked up at the doctor in wonder, eyes wide as you thought it over. It was no secret that your families were dying to know. Rose and your mom wanted a little girl so badly. Your dad seemed impartial, just wanting the baby to be healthy, while Ward on the other hand… You hadn’t missed the way Rafe’s jaw had clenched at his dad’s verbal desire for a boy.

The why was no secret.

He wanted a boy that had the capacity to turn out better than Rafe.

Truthfully, you didn’t know what you wanted, and you hadn’t spoken to Rafe about it either. You didn’t talk to him much at all if you could help it, and even from what you knew about him, it was still hard to try and surmise what he hoped for. You didn’t need to look at Rose to know she was disappointed when you shook your head.

“I don’t think I want to know yet.”

“That’s okay!” the doctor assured you, and you wondered if your uncertainty was written all over your face. “Plenty of people want to be surprised, or they simply aren’t ready yet.”

You returned her comforting smile, letting out a breath of relief. The rest of the appointment was spent making sure you were healthy and that the baby was developing as it should too. Rose was an odd comfort, a soft touch on your back as you both walked out of the room. Rafe’s face was hopeful when you finally neared him, and you said nothing as Rose spoke.

“Y/N doesn’t want to know the sex yet.”

You could feel his gaze on you, and you pointedly ignored him.

“Why the hell not?”

“Rafe,” his stepmom scolded.

You brushed past him on your way out, but he was quick to walk in time with you.

“Why don’t you want to know the sex?”

“…because I just don’t.”

He pulled you to a stop once you were outside, and you narrowed your eyes at the way he stared you down.

“First you tell me you don’t want me in there with you, and now you’re taking this from me too…”

“Rafe-.”

“The baby is mine too.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and looking away. Rafe moved closer, and you felt the cool air of his breath as he exhaled through his nose.

“I know that just eats you up inside, but I have just as much right in these decisions, so you really need to get over that,” he spat.

You could hear Rose scolding him again, and your eyes landed on his face again just as a sneer fell onto his lips.

“So, if you don’t want to know the sex, fine, but you’re going to wait here while I find out.”

He was taking off before you could stop him, and you roughly exhaled as your eyes met Rose’s. It bothered you that Rafe spoke about this baby like it was a mutual decision between you two. If you had it your way, Rafe wouldn’t be involved in the pregnancy at all. His determination to make you both one big happy family was unnerving more than anything else.

…because Rafe had an infuriating habit of getting what he wanted.

“Oh my God,” Bunny breathed as she held the sonogram Rafe gave her, lips parted in shock.

Cam sat next to her, both of them staring at it with wide eyes. Part of you felt bad for hiding this from them for so long, but you’d needed time to process it all yourself. Plus, there was the added weight of hiding the true nature of your relationship—or lack thereof—with Rafe from them.

It felt like forever since you’d seen them, and Ward and Rose took no issue with inviting them over.

“I feel like the biggest idiot in the world,” Cam said, shaking her head. “You were fucking Rafe this whole time, and I didn’t even know.”

You threw her a sheepish smile when her gaze met yours.

“Not even Kelce knew, so…”

“Yeah, but they’re guys. We’re girls,” Bunny cried. “We tell each other everything.”

The blonde pouted at you as Cam took the sonogram for herself, marveling at it.

“I didn’t want anyone to know,” you quietly confessed. “Pope, you know.”

Bunny nodded in understanding, Cam humming.

“…but you guys aren’t together anymore,” the redhead sadly mused. “…and you’re still going to have it?”

You sighed, nibbling on a snack that Rose had made you as your thoughts ran. You knew what they were thinking because it was the same thoughts you’d had before your abortion. You’d had no intention of being with Rafe, and he’d shown you that he wasn’t a promising father. Not to mention, you hadn’t wanted him to use the baby against you. It hadn’t made sense to keep it.

It didn’t make sense to keep this one either, but you were cornered.

Still…ignoring Rafe, you wanted this baby, and that was what you’d told them.

“What about school?” Cam wondered.

“One more year off isn’t the end of the world,” you assured them. “Online classes are a thing, and…I don’t know. Once the baby reaches a certain age, I could go in person…even if only for the experience.”

You’d talked about it in passing with both your parents and Ward. You hadn’t missed the way Rafe’s gaze had lingered during the conversation. His gaze lingered a lot lately, and you knew it was in part because you wanted nothing to do with him.

He watched you a lot when you walked, eyes focused on your steps and movements. He stared when you ate too, taking in what you ingested and how much. You weren’t stupid. You knew why, of course, but a part of you didn’t want to accept that Rafe was just looking out for the mother of his child. You didn’t want to acknowledge that beyond all of his awfulness and troubled mind, there was a part of him that existed that did care about you and this baby in his own way.

You didn’t like the area of grey.

Like now for example.

“You can’t forget these,” he told you as you ate, sliding the prenatal vitamin across the table.

Your shoulders sagged for several reasons, mostly because you hated that you kept forgetting while Rafe didn’t. He never forgot everything you were supposed to take and how much you were supposed to be eating and how much rest you were supposed to be getting. It ate you up inside, and you weren’t too proud to deny it.

Bitterness settled in the pit of your stomach.

You knew that you were just overwhelmed, and due to the circumstances, Rafe had much more control over the situation than you did. Even still, you couldn’t help how it made you feel like Rafe, of all people, was going to be a better parent than you. You knew that wasn’t true, of course. You could start smocking crack, right now, and you’d still be a better parent than him.

Rafe just had much more invested in this baby than you did.

Maybe you’d just subconsciously internalized that. You did want this baby, but if you lost it, you’d be sad…but not forever. You’d grieve, of course, but you couldn’t deny that a part of you would take it as a sign, a blessing in a weird way almost. You would be sad…but you would be free, and Rafe of all people understood that more than anyone.

So, he was overly invested in making sure everything went right with this pregnancy.

He couldn’t risk losing the baby because he couldn’t risk losing you.

“I guess I’m going to have to write it on your forehead every night…”

Your eyes met his, and the corner of his lips curved upwards into a cold smirk.

“…or shove it down your throat.”

You looked away, picking at your food.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were trying to intentionally ruin this pregnancy.”

You glared at him at that. You both knew that wasn’t true, and you felt insulted that Rafe would even think that of you.

“You twisted my arm into this whole situation, and now you complain when I’m not perfect at it,” you told him. “I’ll do better.”

You took the vitamin, swallowing it down with some water under Rafe’s watchful eye.

“I know you can be stubborn…but you really plan on doing this for the next eighteen years?”

You swallowed down a sigh, sparing him a brief glance.

“Doing what, Rafe?”

“You know what.”

You hated that smirk dancing on his lips, chin resting in his hand as he stared at you like…like some child. It was the smugness that really made your skin crawl. The unshaking certainty that you’d come around and Rafe would really just get everything he wanted.

“Plenty of people coparent without being together all over the world, Rafe. I don’t see why we can’t…”

“This isn’t all over the world, beautiful. It’s Kildare.”

You rolled your eyes at his tone.

“…and Rose already hates it enough that we aren’t married. I’ll never hear the end of it when you actually start showing,” he grumbled.

“Well, maybe you should’ve thought of that before you forced a baby in me.”

His face fell at your words, and you held his gaze. Sarah was in the living room, not one to leave the two of you completely alone, but you didn’t care if she heard or not. She already knew, anyway.

“You didn’t give me much choice…now, did you?”

You scoffed at him, looking away with a shake of your head.

“You tried to drown me, Rafe,” you reminded him, watching the way his jaw ticked. “What did you expect me to do?”

“I said I was sorry-.”

“That’s not something that can be fixed with an apology. It can never be fixed.”

“I-.”

“You hit me, you raped me, and you think any of that is supposed to make me want to be with you? You had to get me pregnant just to keep me tied to you, Rafe. What does that say?”

You were grabbing your plate and standing before he could respond, but you weren’t surprised to hear his chair scraping too as he followed you into the kitchen. His hands came down on either side of you at the sink, and you shrunk in on yourself at the feel of his chest grazing your back. He leaned in, and you shuddered when his nose grazed the top of your ear. He sighed, and you felt the action against your back.

“I want you to understand something…okay…?”

His voice was hushed, and you did your best to lean away from him to no avail.

“Baby or no baby, you were never getting away from me,” Rafe purred, and you flinched when his hand trailed up your frame, coming to rest on your stomach. “This was just the easy way, and you think you’d appreciate that.”

You pushed your body against his, trying to get from in between him and the sink, but Rafe’s hand was quick to circle your wrist. When you looked at him, his blue eyes were hard, no hint of humor found on his face. He leaned in, and you worriedly leaned back.

“This is me being nice…because you’re pregnant, and you don’t need the stress…”

His other hand came up to touch your cheek, and your lips trembled as he ran his gaze over you, slowly taking you in.

“…but do not let that get to your head.”

You stared at each other for what felt like a long time, and you jerked when Sarah’s voice reached your ears.

“Rafe! What the hell are you doing?”

The disgust in her voice was clear, and you swallowed when her brother threw her a crooked smile, reluctantly letting you go.

“We’re just talking,” he evenly told her, looking at you again. “Baby stuff.”

He tapped your chin before brushing by you, and you wiped your face, having not even realized that your eyes had started to water.

You let out a breath, staring at the pastel green crib with parted lips. It was so big and pretty and unexpected. When Sarah had taken you out, you hadn’t thought anything of it. Returning to the Cameron’s to Cam and Bunny in your room was a surprise, and the pretty crib was an even bigger surprise. You didn’t miss the gender-neutral color, and you blinked at them.

“Rafe told Kelce and Kelce told me,” Cam said with a shrug. “It’s perfect for…whatever you hope you’re having.”

You couldn’t lie and say your curiosity wasn’t piqued. After all, you hadn’t forgotten the look on Rafe’s face when he’d finally joined you and Rose in the car that day. It was strange, seeing him so happy, and that happiness sparked by something so innocent and genuine.

“Do you like it?” Bunny wondered with a hopeful smile.

You dazedly nodded.

“Yeah,” you breathed, slowly approaching it, placing your hand on the wood. “It’s so pretty.”

With every passing day, this pregnancy became more and more real. In less than a year, a little baby would be sleeping in this thing, and you blew out a breath. You and Rafe would be parents, and you briefly closed your eyes.

“Are you scared?” Bunny suddenly asked.

When you looked at her, she looked like she was for you. All three of you were so young, after all, and you were having a baby. You were starting a portion of your life that wouldn’t even be thought about for another decade for them, if at all.

“Yeah.”

It was an honest answer, but just not for the reason you led her to believe. You weren’t scared of this baby or being a mother, but instead of Rafe. You were scared of the power he held, and would hold, over you. You were scared of eighteen plus years of having to deal with him and his antics and his unwavering determination to keep you under his thumb.

You were afraid of Ward and his money and how difficult your family’s life could be should you ever decide to stand up to Rafe for the whole island to see. You were afraid of Rose’s excitement to have a baby in the house, what she might do or turn a blind eye to all for the sake of looking like a perfect family.

You didn’t say any of that though.

“What if I suck?” you wondered, recalling your thoughts from the other night. “I mean, Rafe of all people, has to remind me to take my prenatal vitamins. What if he’s better at this than me?”

“I can barely imagine Rafe as a dad, and he’s literally going to be one,” Cam scoffed. “You’ll be a great mom, don’t worry.”

“Plus, you’ll have so much help! We’re here, and Rose and Sarah, and Kiara’s going to help too, right? She’s dating your brother,” Bunny reminded you.

It was true that you would have help. You were sure you’d need it, and it did relieve you some, and you looked at the crib again. It looked so nice in the room, oddly in place, and you were thinking about waking up in the middle of the night to check on the baby or watching them sleep. You were still staring at it when Rafe finally returned.

You knew because you heard him knock something over downstairs.

It was late, very late, and truthfully, you hadn’t been all that concerned about where he was. Your curiosity, however, was piqued when you heard Ward’s voice. It became clearer when you stepped out of your room, nearing the stairs.

“Y/N is upstairs, carrying your baby and getting the rest she needs, and you’re out drinking?”

It wasn’t surprising to hear, not even disappointing. You’d come to expect everything of Rafe, and you peeked around the corner, gaze landing on the two of them at the bottom of the stairs. Your ex did look drunk, hair mussed like he’d been running his hands through it, and your eyes fell to the large bag in his hand.

“When you came to me to take responsibility for your part in all this, to tell me about the situation, I had hope, Rafe. I still do, but this? I don’t like this,” the older man scolded.

“You can relax, alright? I was just at Topper’s. We just had some beers-.”

“…and then you drove here.”

Rafe didn’t say anything to that, and when you glanced up again, you found his drunken gaze on you. Feeling embarrassed at having been caught, you backed away and made your way back to your room. You could feel your stomach turning, mouth salty, and you grimaced, rushing to the bathroom. Truthfully, you weren’t sure why they called it morning sickness when you found that it sometimes lasted all day.

When you finished rinsing your mouth out, you were stumped by the sight of Rafe in your room.

You opened your mouth to say something when you paused, taking in the way he stood over the crib. You studied the way he seemed to study it, blue eyes drinking in the color and size, and you watched him reach up with his free hand to brush his fingers along the smooth surface. He didn’t acknowledge you right away, just drinking it in, and his throat bobbed.

“Cam and Bunny bought it,” you finally said.

Again, he said nothing, and you sighed.

“Rafe, I need to sleep. You can look at it tomorrow-.”

“No.”

You frowned at him, frown deepening when he moved to sit down on your bed. You folded your arms over your chest, opening your mouth when he drew your attention back to the bag he’d been holding. You watched him dump everything out onto the bed, and it was hard to describe the feeling in your chest as your eyes ran over everything.

It was all baby stuff.

Blankets, onesies, diapers. You sharply inhaled, so conflicted at the sight of Rafe simultaneously trying and fucking up. You let out a bitter chuckle, thinking to yourself to leave it to Rafe to get drunk and drive home with a bag full of things the baby would need. You dropped the blanket, unsure of what to say. You felt like you should thank him, but you weren’t going to thank Rafe for doing what dads should.

Providing for this baby he was forcing you to have was the least he could do.

“Ward said you’re drunk…”

Rafe heaved a sigh, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling, but he didn’t deny it. He shook his head, running his hand through his dirty blond strands, and standing.

“Topper and Kelce can’t believe I’m doing this, you know,” he slurred, and you eyed him. “They think I’m crazy…but they don’t get it.”

“Look, all of this stuff is great, Rafe, but I think you should-.”

“I fucking love you.”

Your stomach churned at that, and you couldn’t hold his gaze when it met yours. You didn’t believe that for a second, and it scared you that Rafe genuinely did.

“I do,” he drunkenly continued. “…and you might hate me, now, but you won’t forever. You can’t.”

“Rafe,” you sighed.

“…because that baby will know. Our child will see it, and they’ll hate you.”

Your heart skipped a beat as Rafe stared you down, and you swallowed.

“Our son will hate you.”

You froze, eyes widening at Rafe as he revealed what you didn’t want to know yet. He watched your face as you processed the knowledge that you were having a boy…another Rafe, and by the look on Rafe’s face, you could see that was where his mind had headed too. You stumbled back, and Rafe let out a soft chuckle.

“We’re having a boy…and I’m going to treat him better than my dad ever treated me,” he practically sneered, your eyes meeting his again. “He’ll never have to beg for my attention, my love, my approval.”

You turned away, staring at the crib and the pastel green color, mind racing.

“He’s going to fucking love me…and you will too because he does.”

You shook your head, and Rafe continued.

“You will too because he’s mine,” Rafe whispered, moving closer, now. “You’re going to see me in his face and his laugh and his God damn smile.”

“Shut up, Rafe.”

Your voice cracked, and you hadn’t realized until now that you’d been hoping for a girl. You tried to tell yourself that it didn’t matter to you, but in this moment, as Rafe taunted you with everything you wanted to pretend wasn’t true, you realized it mattered a lot. Seeing Rafe in your son was going to elicit one of two reactions.

You were either going to hate the sight of him and everything he reminded you of, something you couldn’t imagine…

…or he was going to make the next eighteen years very trying in ways you didn’t even want to think about.

“I told you I didn’t want to know,” you choked out. “Do you ever respect anything I say?”

You pushed past him, moving to clean everything off of your bed when you felt Rafe at your back. You reached back, pushing at him, but Rafe wouldn’t budge. He wrapped his arms around you, and you felt his face in the crook of your neck.

“Rafe-.”

“We’re having a boy,” he drunkenly murmured, lips brushing your neck. “You’re giving me a son.”

When you turned around, you pressed your hands to his chest, but Rafe dropped to his knees before you could stop him. You gasped when his arms tightened around you, his face pressed to your stomach, and your hands were suspended in the air, unsure of what to do.

“Rafe, get up,” you harshly whispered.

You tensed when he pressed his lips to you, lifting your shirt, skin meeting skin.

“Rafe, stop-.”

You cut yourself off with a gasp when his teeth nipped at you. He kissed his way up your body, lips meeting yours before you could stop him. You pushed against him, noises of protests leaving you as he moved his mouth over yours. Rafe’s hands pressed into you, digging into your skin and preventing you from moving.

Your heart started going crazy in your chest, and you worriedly looked towards the door.

“Rafe, stop,” you hissed against his lips, shoving his shoulders.

He ignored you, shoving you down onto the bed, and in your panic, your hand clasped onto some random baby toy he’d bought. You swung it at his face before you realized it, eyes widening as he pulled away with a loud hiss. The corner of the box it was in had cut his face, and you watched him reach up to touch it. Your lips parted when he looked at the blood on his hand, and you fearfully moved back, tearful eyes focused on him.

When his blue eyes met yours, his entire face hardened, expression taut. He came at you again, and you swung your arm, his hand catching your wrist just as the door opened. You both flew apart with impressive speed, your tearful gaze landing on Ward as he looked between you two. You didn’t miss the way his gaze narrowed the more it lingered on Rafe.

“Y/N needs rest, Rafe. You know that.”

The blond swallowed, running his hands through his hair with a nod.

“Yeah, yeah, I just… I was just showing her the stuff I bought.”

You could tell that Ward didn’t believe him, and when it became clear that Ward wasn’t leaving until he did, Rafe reluctantly moved away from you. You looked down when he glanced over his shoulder at you, only looking up again to watch the way Ward roughly grabbed his shoulder, guiding him out as he shut the door behind them.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, throat tight as you looked over everything Rafe had bought. You were fighting to calm your heart, realizing how close Rafe had been to having his way with you. You were shaking, and you furiously blinked back tears, hand coming to rest on your stomach. A mini Rafe was growing inside of you, and to make sure he didn’t turn out like his father, you worried that you’d might have to lose yourself in the process.

#dark!rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #obx fanfiction #obx #obx fic #Outer Banks #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron fic

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bullet-prooflove · 2 months ago

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Trying: Clinton Skye x Reader

Tagging: @caffeinatedwoman @glazzyglaz @Racheluk @kmc1989

Companion piece to:

Downtime - You receive a phone call from Clinton when a case hits a little too close to home.

Two Weeks - Two weeks is too long to be apart.

Just How Much (NSFW) - Clinton shows you just how much he's missed you.

Good To Be Home - Clinton is happy to be home.

Love Letters - Clinton finds your love letter in his bag.

It's the undercover op that’s the last straw for you. When Clinton calls you from Baltimore to explain his case has evolved, that it requires him to disappear for a few months you lose your shit entirely.

“You’ve already been away two weeks working this case, I don’t understand…”

“You know I would come home if I could.” He had sighed as he stood at the window of his hotel room staring down across the darkening sky. There’s a storm rolling in through the west, already he can feel charge in the air as he grips the phone tightly.

“If you’ve changed your mind just tell me.” You say as you sit at the kitchen table with the fertility schedule in front of you. “You promised you’d do this with me but I’ve spent months jabbing myself in the ass for no reason.”

“Sienna.” He says softly, pinching the space between his eyes. “You know that’s not…”

“And now you’re telling me that the next time I see you will be months down the line, that it could be two months, it could be six.” You say, your voice breaking. “Why the fuck am I doing this Clinton? Why am I putting my body through hell when you can’t even be bothered to show up?”

You hang up then and Clinton, he’s left staring at the phone with his heart pounding in his chest. He doesn’t want to leave things like this with you, not when he’s about to disappear.

It’s past midnight when he gets home, the house is locked up but he can see the lamp illuminating the bedroom from the outside window. He knows you’re still twisted up about the situation between the two of you, that you won’t be sleeping tonight because you’ll be worrying about him.

When he lets himself in, he heads immediately to the bedroom because he can’t let this thing sit any longer. He finds you clad in leggings and your old academy t-shirt, curled around his pillow. Your eyes are rimmed with red and the tears still stain your cheeks. In the bin reside the fertility drugs, the ones you’ve been taking for the past couple of months.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” You tell him as he lies down beside you. “There’s no point in trying if you’re not here.”

There’s an ache in his chest, one he feels acutely as his fingers interlink with yours. He’s always wanted a family, he thought the two of you could have that together but his job it just keeps taking him away. It’s you that’s doing all the heavy lifting, the injections, the hormonal fluctuations, you’ve handled all of that on your own because Clinton, he’s just not there.

“I’m sorry.” He tells you, his thumb brushing away the tears that stain your cheeks. “I’m sorry that this has all been on you. I always meant to be here…”

“You need to make a choice.” You tell him and his heart breaks because he always knew it would come to this.

His job or a baby, it shouldn’t be such a hard decision but it is because all Clinton can think about are those cases in his desk drawer, the ones that he’s slowly whittling away at because of the resources his current position allows him to have. You must see the indecision on his features because your lips purse together grimly.

“Think about it while your away.” You tell him before you withdraw from the bed and head towards the bathroom. “Let me know what you decide.”

Love Clinton? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#clinton skye #clinton skye x reader #nathaniel arcand #fbi most wanted

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mollymauk-teafleak · 11 months ago

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when we begin again

I wanted to write something for my little huskerdust babies au! So here's some devastating angst!!

Huge thanks to @minky-for-short for being the first to indulge me in this madness and the general encouragement and huge thanks to @hangsters for putting up with me singing these songs on repeat whenever by brain goes into standby

Please reblog and leave a comment over on Ao3!

cw trans angel dust, male presenting pregnancy

“You have to deal with Angel Dust.”

Husk had been hearing that a lot lately. It made him happier than he’d be willing to admit to anyone with working ears.

Well. Anyone apart from Angel Dust himself.

But that surly voice didn’t belong to his man, it was Vaggie who had appeared against his bar, hands braced on it and interrupting the game of poker Husk had been playing against himself. There wasn’t much to do when you were a bartender who’d promised not to drink for the next six months, two weeks and three days. But who was counting?

Husk didn’t look up, rolling the olives he used as chips from one pile to the other, blatantly cheating and willing himself not to notice, “Let me guess, he made Charlie cry again? Or was it Nifty this time? Ah fuck, did he piss off the radio demon…”

He’d rattled them off in order of likelihood but he wouldn’t put any of them past his spider demon lately. Angel Dust had always been an acquired taste with that sugared armor he put on and the sharp tongue underneath, the teasing smirk he faced the afterlife with. Hell, it had been a while before Husk broke under his charms and that was only after seeing them for what they were, pretty decoration on someone who’d been through a lot and chosen his weapons carefully. He was an asshole, smug and bitchy and vulgar, and Husk had learned to love it.

But for someone who’d actively chased chemical imbalance for years, the guy was not handling pregnancy well.

Tired, aching and hormonal, his time lately was mostly spent sulking on the couch, scowling at anyone who came near, firing off cutting remarks that weren’t so funny without the smile and wink to go along with them. There were very few people in the hotel he hadn’t upset, hitting every square on the bingo sheet, losing his shit over the smallest thing until he deserved some kind of special prize for acidity. He’d be sorry when he calmed down, continually brought to tears by his friends’ patience with him, all of them ready to play the whole scene out the next day.

Hence why Husk was asked to deal with him as often as he was, riding on his baby daddy pass. Being the spider demon’s keeper would lose its shine eventually but it hadn’t happened yet and he didn’t see it on the horizon either.

“Well, no more than usual but…” Vaggie continued, her palm still over his winning hand.

Husk sighed, “Look, I know he’s a lot to deal with right now but you can’t blame the guy. He was a bitch with booze, cigarettes and drugs mixed in, now he’s had to drop all three on short notice, topped off with two spider kittens using his organs as a trampoline and turning his brain into soup.”

“No,” Vaggie’s voice shifted from surly to irritated with an edge of worry that shattered Husk’s warm feeling and pulled his eyes off his cards, “No, it’s not like that, Husk.”

“What’s up with him?” he felt his ears pick up, like if he strained enough, he could hear Angel somewhere upstairs.

When he’d come back from the store, laden with sweet treats that made his teeth ache just looking at them and insane combinations Angel’s cravings had been demanding lately, he’d just assumed the sofa was empty because the spider was upstairs, sleeping. But Vaggie’s expression said something different. Guilt settled over Husk like a wet blanket. Why didn’t he go and check on him…

“That’s the thing, we don’t know,” the former angel folded her arms, “He was sitting in the lounge like usual, watching TV, me and Charlie were setting up for today’s lesson and suddenly he just got up and stormed off. Slammed the door and hasn’t left since. Snaps at anyone who comes knocking to go fuck themselves.”

Husk felt the fur across his shoulders lift. Some of that was normal. Some of that gave him the concrete feeling of knowing the next card you turned would blow your hand or knowing that fist was sailing right for your nose.

“Um…guys?” Charlie’s voice had a tremble that made it sound ready to break, “I think I know what upset him.”

The television was blaring when they ran over to where she sat in the lounge but that had a lot to do with the voice of Katie Killjoy, curdled nastily and accompanied by a dangerous lioness smile.

And a grainy, lopsided paparazzi shot of Angel Dust, pupils wide as silver dollars and a grin so loose it was sliding right off his face, a poisonous looking martini in one of his hands, a rolled up note in another.

“Ah fuck…” Husk groaned softly.

“...with the frankly staggering revelation that the bumbling efforts over at the Hazbin Hotel actually work, somewhat, Hell is left with questions. How did such embarrassing methods actually produce results? Is this the first step on the road to ascension? Is this all an elaborate hoax by the Princess of Hell in a bid to sell us on her hotel? All valid questions in the wake of this news! But we here at Vox Media Productions have another to add to the list.”

The photo of Angel Dust was blown up, becoming footage, bleeding into clips from his more violent pornos. Husk doubted he had a heart anymore but something in his chest ached at the sight of a clear downward spiral. He used to watch Angel like this and tell himself he didn’t care, that the kid was none of his concern, an afterlife imploding to the same tune he’d heard a thousand times, living and dead.

But he was long past lying to himself. Now he had no shield against the pain of watching the man he loved drown in front of him, knowing there was a version of himself just in the wings, too damn stubborn and too damn drunk to help him.

“The well known sinner at the center of this shocking story is no stranger to scandal, though he’s far more used to making a profit from it. Angel Dust, star of many award winning pornographic films, is the supposed father-to-be but close, personal friends of the spider himself have raised their concerns.”

Husk could feel the growl running between his teeth like an electric current. He could take a guess at just who’d fed them this story.

“Sinners, ask yourselves, is this really the person who should be in charge of Hell’s very first children? A known drug addict who makes his living from indecency? And, according to insider reports from Porn Studios, an unreliable, temperamental, unstable individual? There have been a lot of very worrying leaks about his on set behavior and, while we were all willing to turn a blind eye before, there are now young lives at stake. Can we really allow this to continue? Vox Media certainly doesn’t think so.”

A dagger flashed out and crashed through the screen, turning the chatter and flashing images into gurgling pops of static and then silence. Vaggie wrenched her weapon free, eyes flaring enough to burn holes in the wall.

“Someone needs to crush that fucking bug,” she spat, “Pin him to a goddamn corkboard.”

“They said it’s their top story, they must have been talking about it all day…” Charlie flickered between forms, horns phasing in and out, tears welling in her eyes, “Angel must have seen it…”

“We knew Valentino would throw a bitch fit over you keeping the kids out of his hands,” Vaggie spun the dagger between her fingers like there might still be something to throw it at, “But getting Vox to do his dirty work? Fucking coward…”

“They can’t…they can’t actually take the babies from him right? Right?” Charlie shook herself, hands twisting in her hair, “No, no, of course not. Because we’ll do something about it! I’ll…I’ll get them to interview me! We’ll run our own piece! Start our own news station?”

“I’m going to talk to him.”

Husk’s voice, oddly calm and empty of anger, brought his friends up short, stalling their fury and their panic. He wrenched his claws out of the furrows he’d dug in the back of the sofa, keeping his breathing steady and even as he took the stairs two at a time.

The more demonic part of him wanted to howl and break things, smash glass and break his claws against the wall. The part of him that had once been an Overlord wanted to track down Valentino and tear the wings off his back, grind him into the ground until he was as small as he’d ever made Angel feel. The human part of him wanted to find the nearest bottle and drain it dry, rob himself of all feeling, blunt the edges of this pain until he didn’t have to deal with it at all.

But Husk ignored all of them. It took a moment but he managed it eventually, shoving them into the back of his mind where they couldn’t take control of his limbs. There was only one thing that he could let matter right now.

Angel Dust wasn’t the only one who was struggling with the change in their afterlives.

The bedroom behind the door was still his own, technically, but he hadn’t thought of it that way in a while. They hadn’t been an item long before pink started bleeding into the otherwise lifeless space, bright clothes actually making use of the wardrobe, make-up left scattered in front of the mirror, Fat Nuggets snoring on Husk’s side of the bed more often than not. Angel Dust still had his room down the hall, Husk knew he got a lot of reassurance out of having his own space (and he had a lot more shit) but his paws brought him here first.

He knocked lightly, pressing his forehead to the door, “Angel? Baby, it’s me.”

There was a very deliberate pause where Husk knew there was a good chance he’d be told to fuck off, a static weight where lightning might strike or it might not. He held his breath, tail whipping anxiously, not praying, he wasn’t fool enough for that, but hoping pretty damn hard.

Eventually, he heard a soft murmur, the sound of fabric moving, “M’here.”

He took that as permission to gently ease the heavy door open. Their room was dark, almost completely, apart from the sickly blue light flooding out of the phone in Angel’s hands. The spider demon was slumped on the bed, angular limbs folded in like someone had taken a rolled up newspaper to him, the only part of him that moved was the thumb scrolling endlessly through some newsfeed. Husk could hear tinny versions of Angel’s exaggerated moans and squeals from any number of pornos, interspersed with canned commentary from the 666 News broadcast. It seemed like Vox wasn’t the only Vee helping Valentino play dirty.

Husk sighed, closing the door behind him and gently clambering onto the bed, though he gave Angel plenty of room, “Baby, maybe you should stop listening to that…”

Angel’s voice was thin and rough, like it had come through a belt sander, “He’s sending me them. Val. Making sure I don’t miss any.”

Husk swallowed back acidic anger, “Block him. You can put it down, Angel, it’s okay…”

“Used to tell yourself that at the roulette table, huh? Just put it down?” Angel flashed him a bitter look.

Husk couldn’t help it, he flinched. Immediately his boyfriend’s anger cracked and collapsed, horror and shame underneath. The phone slipped from his fingers, landing face down and dropping them into darkness. But the pentagram moon showed Husk more than enough, the tears bleeding down Angel’s face, his mouth twisted miserably as it swallowed him under.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

Husk sighed, holding out his hands, “I know you didn’t, baby, I know. Look, can I touch you? That okay?”

Angel’s two sets of arms seemed to be in disagreement. One set trembled closer to Husk’s, the other hovered over the phone, both pulling against the other and both terrified. Husk found himself doing it again, that thing that wasn’t praying, harder than he’d done over any green-felted table.

The stalemate finally broke and, thank fuck, Husk was the winner. Angel Dust crashed into him with more force than you’d ever think was in that skinny body, clutching him tight enough to hurt, not that Husk could find it in him to care. He felt warm tears soak the fur at the curve of his neck, welcomed them, brought his wings around to shelter the two of them, purred loud and unashamedly, rocked him the way he’d never been rocked himself but it felt right.

“I don’t get it,” the words came waterlogged and painful, “I didn’t ask for them. I didn’t ask for these kids but I’m doing my fucking best and now I have them, all everyone wants to do is take them away from me.”

For a moment, Husk was envious of his lover, two arms didn’t feel like enough to hold him, how was he supposed to compete when the hurt was this big?

“I know,” he rubbed his cheek against Angel’s hair, forgetting to be self conscious of his feline instincts, “It ain’t fair, baby. And…and I need you to know…if it’s too much, if you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to. You have a choice.”

Angel’s breath shuddered, two hands winding from around Husk’s middle, slipping down. He couldn’t see them but he knew where they were going, his own paws met them there. Demons glancing at him in the street would have no idea- well, they would now thanks to the fucking Vees- but Husk spent a good amount of his time staring at Angel Dust. He saw the gentle slope in his stomach, he knew where to press to feel it through the oversized sweatshirt he wore. He threaded his fingers through Angel’s so the two of them cradled it together, this little impossibility, this spark that had fallen through the cracks and somehow landed here in their afterlives.

“I wanna do it,” Angel Dust rasped, “I know it’s dumb and selfish but I can’t help it. I got ditched by my family and this…they feel like a second chance. And I know I don’t deserve it but I can’t let go.”

Husk shook his head gently, shifting so he could rest his forehead against Angel’s, “Listen to me. I don’t know why this happened, I don’t know what asshole is up there above Heaven and Hell and all this mess deciding whose a sinner and whose a saint, whose spunk gets to work and whose don’t. I don’t know why these kids are here but I know there’s only one explanation that makes sense to me.”

Angel sniffled softly, still looking down at their joined hands, “What?”

“You,” Husk breathed, running his thumb over that little knot low inside his lover, “You’re the only person I can think of, in heaven or hell or wherever the fuck else, who’s strong enough to do this. You’ve fought harder than anyone I know to be better than you were. And you’ll keep fighting for our kids, even when assholes like that bitch Val keep throwing punches. I think they’re here because you deserve that second chance, Angel.”

His slitted eyes had adjusted to the darkness, rewarding him with the sight of a small, trembling smile on Angel’s face.

“Well…that means you do too, right?” he whispered.

Husk chuckled softly, “Hell, I already knew I was on the path to redemption. I got you, didn’t I? Must be halfway to a fucking saint.”

Angel’s laugh was a shaky, broken thing but it was the sweetest sound Husk had heard in a long time, a prize he could never have imagined winning. To be trusted so much by someone who, by rights, should never have trusted anyone again, he wouldn’t have traded anything for that.

Angel reached down, fumbling around in the blankets until he found his phone. He held the power button down until the screen went fully dark then tossed it over his shoulder, letting it land in some of the clothes scattered on the floor. He seemed to breathe a little easier after, glowing at the proud grin Husk gave him.

“I love you, baby,” the words still left him quietly, like he was still unsure saying them, they were a trick he hadn’t mastered yet and was terrified to fumble, “You know that, right?”

Angel nods, plucking those words out of the air and clutching them so tight they were tattooed on his palm, “So you keep saying, Whiskers. Though I could stand to hear it a few more times…and I love you too. A whole fucking lot…” his eyes slid over his shoulder where he’d tossed the phone and it’s poisonous chatter, “Enough that it drowns out all that bullshit on most days.”

Husk laid a paw against his cheek, brushing away the tear tracks on his face, “And on the days it doesn't, I’m right here. And soon we’ll have two little brats running around, I hear they’re pretty loud.”

Angel let Husk tumble him gently sideways, their bodies finding a way to comfortably fit together in their nest of blankets, “Not soon enough if you ask me. I could have been just enough of a spider to lay eggs and save myself the hassle but nah, I had to go and fall in love with a mammal…”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Husk smiled crookedly, purring so Angel would feel it as he pillowed his head on his chest, “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Too fucking right you will,” Angel’s gold tooth flashed as he yawned, the sadness draining away and leaving him empty, “Over and over again, in a wide variety of different positions…”

Husk could feel Angel Dust still shaking, even after he drifted asleep. It wasn’t the end of it, he knew that the tide had just gone out. The next months weren’t going to be easy and hell only knew what would happen after that. He’d certainly had better odds in his time.

But Husk knew one thing for certain. He was all in.

#hazbin hotel #huskerdust #hazbin angel dust #hazbin husk #hazbin charlie #hazbin vaggie #huskerdust babies au #please reblog and comment!

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hufflepuffsandghosts · 1 year ago

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Fic swap? 👀 - ur bestie Zero 🖤

Plot: PH!Bakugo and Y/N (AFAB) get captured and thrown together in a dark cell. Whoever put them together wants them to do..things. They both refuse. But their captor is determined, putting hormones in the air to urge them on. How long can they last?

A/N: Hello friend! This is a FicSwap for my lovely bestie! I tried to keep it as gender-neutral as possible for you bby. But please keep in mind that the reader has female anatomy. I really hope you like this as you know i am NOT the type to write smut ahh <3 ily

TW: Non-Con/Dub-Con, Use of drugs. Slight exhibitionism if you squint. Swearing. Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kiddos!), Breeding NO MINORS ALLOWED TO INTERACT

The night was dark and eerie, with an air of tension surrounding Bakugo, aka Dynamight, Japan's #2 hero, and Y/N, aka H/N. Bakugo’s explosive quirk and Y/n’s strategic abilities complemented each other perfectly. The villain in question has been known to kidnap and kill couples.

As the night settles in, the moon’s faint glow casts shadows on the abandoned industrial complex where the villain has set up his hideout. The air was tense, and each breath felt electric as the pair prepped to confront the dangerous kidnapper. The villain emerged from the shadows, his sinister laughter echoing through the desolate space. He was a towering figure, clad in all black as the moonlight glinted off a wickedly sharp blade he wielded.

The battle began with a ferocious exchange of blows from both parties at play. Bakugo charged forward, using his explosions to close the distance between him and the villain. Y/N, always one step ahead, flanked the enemy with precision. Using their wits and agility to dodge the villain’s attack.

Bakugo and Y/N always moved with almost telepathic coordination during their joint missions. They knew and anticipated each other’s moves, covering for one another effortlessly. Their effectiveness as a team always caught the attention of their peers and superiors, leading to more frequent assignments together. During this particular mission fraught with danger, the pair were hesitant to acknowledge their evergrowing feelings for one another. It wasn't until a split-second decision on Bakugo's part, stepping in as a shield for Y/n from a deadly attack that put them in this predicament and was captured by the villain and his team

In a dimly lit, desolate underground cell, Bakugo and Y/N found themselves shackled together. They were both heroes, each possessing unique abilities and strong wills to help. But now, stripped of their powers and freedom, they faced an unimaginable challenge. Their captor, a sinister figure hiding in the shadows, had a twisted plan for them.

Bakugo’s fiery temper ignited immediately as he attempted to break free from the chains that bound him to Y/N. “Let me GO, damn it! We’ll tear this place apart!” he snarled, his red eyes blazing with fury.

Y/n on the other hand, remained surprisingly calm, trying to reason with their captor. “There’s no need for this. We won’t give in to your sick demands,” they declared, their voice steady despite the fear bubbling beneath the surface. Their captor’s voice echoed through the chamber, chilling them both to the bond. “Oh, but you will my little bunnies. I’ve laced the air with hormones designed to incite desire, and unless you want to be permanently trapped together, you both will have to cooperate.”

Bakugo growled in frustration, not wanting to give their captor the satisfaction of seeing them weaken, “Like hell we will! I’m not falling for your tricks!” Y/n on the other hand, felt a sudden warmth spreading through the air, affecting their thoughts and emotions, it became increasingly difficult to ignore the proximity of Bakugo, the scent of his sweat, and the intensity of his gaze.

As time passed, their willpower began to waver. Their captor kept the pressure on, taunting them with veiled threats and vague incentives that played on their deepest desires. “Come on Katsuki, don't you wanna feel how good Y/N feels? I know for a fact that she’s absolutely dripping right now.” Whispered the villain.

Bakugo grunts, and shifts a little, he can see how slowly Y/n is becoming more and more desperate, moaning a bit here and there and shifting her legs to gain some sort of release for themselves. “F-Fuck Bakugo, please. I don't know how much longer I can take it.” Y/n Groaned. “It’s the hormones talking Y/N, dont let them win.” Bakugo huffed.

“Tsk, tsk,” The villain said. “They’re practically asking to be used at this point Katsuki, how on earth can you deny them the pleasure.”

“Shit” Bakugo thought. This was not good for the both of them, but all he could imagine is Y/N whimpering underneath him as he-

Stop

Don’t give in.

Is what he kept on telling himself before he realized that he was over the top of Y/n, both of his hands freed and placed lightly on their skin-tight hero costume, playing gently with their breasts. Y/n purred softly, grinding on his thigh at the slight touches. “Please Katsuki-” Y/N spoke softly, before being immediately interrupted by a forceful kiss from their partner in crime. “Shh baby, let me take care of you properly” Katsuki growled, placing kissing and nips along Y/N's neck.

Feeling the heat rise between the both of them. Katsuki gets off slightly, admiring the work of light bruises along their neck. Bakugo rips the bottom half of Y/n’s costume, revealing their wet pussy. He chuckles “Wow, what a little slut you are, getting off just at my leg alone. Tell me, what do you want.”

Y/N huffs and doesn't say anything.

Smack. A sting to their ass before he repeats. “Tell me, what, you want.”

Smack

Y/N whimpers “Make me cum please Kat, please.” before gasping for air as Bakugo uses his thick, rough fingers to make quick work of spreading their legs the rest of the way, and his tongue is suddenly everywhere. Eating them out like his life depended on it. Lapping everything up like it was the last thing he was ever going to drink.

Y/n writhed underneath him, grabbing and pulling at the blonde’s hair. He sucks on your clit and rubs his cock against the hard mattress when you moan. Tongue sliding between your folds like he’s been starving for you. Bakugo then moves his face so it’s closer to your neck, so his lips are beside your ear and he can say things just as breathily as you. and places bites and hickeys along their breasts while inserting two fingers. “fuck Y/N,” he moaned. “You’re already so tight for me and I haven't even done anything yet.” Y/n nods, chatting out agreements “Just fucking get it over with already Bakugo-”

He reaches up and places two fingers into their mouth, while you suck and gasp as he removes his pants, showing his cock covered with his own pre-cum, slowly teasing Y/N’s wet folds. He removes his fingers and smirks, slamming his dick inside. Y/n jolts suddenly, toes curling at the sheer size and thickness of Bakugo’s cock.

“You’re being so obedient for me Y/n, you’re so good for me..” He purrs, slamming into you over and over again. Losing a bit more sanity and more as Y/n gets tighter and tighter around him. “Fuck, that's it, baby, let me hear you.” He says, grabbing Y/N’s hair and pulling the both of them as close as possible. Slamming into Y/n's G-spot as they moaned and were almost screaming with pleasure. It makes both of their heads a little foggy.

“Shit- fuck- Y/N I'm gonna-” Katsuki moans, pushing in as hard as he can, hitting the cervix before cumming. “M-me too-” Y/n moans. Slow and controlled, lifting up a bit to kiss them deep and make you feel every little bit of him. He allows himself to fuck the cum into you, reveling in the quiet gasps you make. Both are so sensitive, but it feels so good.

“You’re mine now, Y/n,” He huffs, before kissing Y/n’s lips, and then to their forehead. Y/N smiles, “I would love that but now, let's figure out how to get the hell out of here.”

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 1 year ago

Text

Comet Donati [Chapter 6: No Control]

Series Summary: Sex, drugs, boy bands. You are a kinda-therapist recruited (via nepotism) to help Comet Donati through a recent crisis. Things are casual with Aegon, very not-casual with Aemond. Loosely inspired by One Direction.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+), drugs, alcohol, smoking, mental health struggles, all-you-can-eat sushi, bodily injury, violence, hungry deer, Selena Gomez, angst!!!

Selected Chapter Quote: “He can’t see on that side, you fucking snake!”

Word count: 9k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @doingfondue @catalina-howard @randomdragonfires @myspotofcraziness @arcielee @fan-goddess @talesofoldandnew @marvelescvpe @tinykryptonitewerewolf @mariahossain @chainsawsangel @darkenchantress @not-a-glad-gladiator @gemini-mama @trifoliumviridi @herfantasyworldd @babyblue711 @namelesslosers @thelittleswanao3 @daenysx @moonlightfoxx @libroparaiso @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @mizfortuna @florent1s @heimtathurs @bhanclegane @poohxlove @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @heavenly1927 @mariahossain @echos-muses @padfooteyes @minttea07 @queenofshinigamis @juliavilu1 @amiraisgoingthruit @lauraneedstochill @wintrr13 @r0segard3n

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

Your last day waking up in Singapore: lying in bed and watching the shadows of birds shoot across the ceiling like falling stars. Your wrist aches in its splint. The door to the balcony is wide open. The wind blows in hot and damp off the South China Sea. You hear him before you see him: the swipe of a keycard, the swinging of the door, the clop clop clop of undoubtedly neon Crocs against the hardwood floor.

You look over at him, not moving from the bed. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Then Aegon notices something in the tiny trashcan beside your nightstand that’s cluttered with souvenirs. Nestled between empty soda cans and Starburst wrappers is a mostly full pack of birth control pills. He stares at it for a while before he says, tentatively: “Trying for a little bundle of joy? With anyone I know?”

“Definitely not.” You sigh, turning back to the ceiling, morose. “Baela and I did 23AndMe like a month ago, and we just got our results back. She’s distantly related to royalty. I have a defective gene that makes me extra susceptible to blood clots. So if I take hormonal birth control I could have a stroke or something.”

“Damn, that sucks,” Aegon says.

“Yeah.”

“But it’s good you found out, you know? I wouldn’t want you dropping over dead.”

“Yeah,” you say again, flatly, ungenerously.

“Hey, no big deal, Stargirl. You know I’d use condoms anyway.”

“Well I might at some point in my life want to have sex with someone who’s not you, so.”

Aegon steps closer; he appears upside down as he studies you from above, sunburned forehead knit into thoughtful grooves, smelling like Tiger Beer and Axe body spray and…you think…chicken wings. His hair is in disarray, his aviator sunglasses tangled in blond knots. He’s wearing a lavender tank top, like dusk, like a bruise. “Ohhhh, I get it. This is an Aemond and Shelby thing.”

You hate that you’re so transparent, like a window wiped clean of fog and fingerprints. You hate that he’s right. “Why are they even together? What the hell do they have in common?”

“Now or before?”

“Both, I guess.”

“Well, before…” Aegon scratches at his cheek. There is a bug bite there, a tiny pink welt left by the venom of a mosquito or a spider. “It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. Aemond got the satisfaction of boning the kind of girl who would have screamed if he touched her back in high school. Shelby got a massive career boost. She had 900,000 Instagram followers when they met. Now she has over 20 million.”

That recurring, futile refrain: I hate her, I hate her, I hate her.

“And I won’t lie. They had some good times.” Aegon grins down at you. “Just like we did.”

“What about now?”

“Now…” Aegon ponders this. “Now I think they’re both lost. Neither of them knows what comes next. Aemond leaving Comet. Shelby hitting that age when people like her start checking off the husband and kids boxes. When you’re thrown off a ship, you cling to the life raft, even if it’s small or ripped up or half-deflated or whatever, right? You try to hold on to what you have left. You return to what’s familiar. And that doesn’t make it right, but it’s what people do.”

“It is,” you agree mournfully. “So Aemond was the one who broke it off.”

“Yeah.”

“And then he took her back.” She called and called and called, he finally answered.

“He had a moment of weakness. Now we all have to live with it.”

“I didn’t know that.” Then you sit up on the bed and look at Aegon. “When the label wanted to get rid of Aemond, why didn’t you fight for him?”

“That’s just the way of the world, Stargirl.” He shrugs, an inevitability, good weather, bad weather, sun and clouds and storms. “He couldn’t stay in the band the way he is now. And the problem isn’t what he looks like. The problem is in his soul. But I have no idea how to fix it.” Aegon smiles, warm like summer. “I thought maybe you would. That’s why I called you.”

“You didn’t even know me,” you tell him. “I was just some girl from a bar.”

“No,” Aegon says softly, and he does not elaborate. And then, bright and cheerful again: “You’re really going to earn your paycheck at our next stop.”

“Where are we going?” You recall the names you’ve heard bouncing around since Comet arrived in East Asia, the cities you’ve seen on banners and t-shirts and Instagram posts. “Bangkok? Kuala Lumpur? Manila? Jakarta? Seoul?”

“Tokyo.” Aegon is still smiling, though in an off-kilter way now, uneasily, his murky ocean-blue eyes somber. The scene of the crime. Where the accident happened. Where Aemond believes his life ended. “We’re performing at the Budokan.”

~~~~~~~~~~

White clouds turn to sapphire waves, then emerald green fields and forests, then buildings in a million different shades of grey that stretch on forever, steel and concrete and asphalt and glass. Tokyo is the largest city you’ve ever seen, the largest city imaginable. It is a labyrinth that makes you think of the hay mazes that farms back home set up each autumn; it beckons you in and then dares you to leave.

As the band hurries through Haneda Airport, you are pursued by paparazzi and hyperventilating fans. The usual suspects—Aegon, Daeron, and Jace—can be relied upon to high five, smile, flash peace signs and hand hearts, blow kisses, pass out crochet astronomical objects, and shout such endearments as (woefully mispronounced) “Konnichiwa!” and “We love you, Japan!” Shelby waves like she’s goddamn Princess Diana. Aemond bows his head, his eyes enigmatic behind his sunglasses, his steps swift. Luke holds Rhaena’s hand; Baela walks with them. You hide behind Cregan. He casts quite a large shadow.

“I look real rock and roll now,” you joke, gesturing with your splinted arm.

Cregan replies in his rumbly subterranean voice: “I think I have you beat.” He pulls up one of his sleeves—floral print, silk, Valentino—and shows you the underside of his right forearm. Bisecting the flesh from his wrist to the crook of his elbow is a long, faint, moon-white scar that you’ve never noticed before, never even heard anyone mention.

“Oh, ouch! You broke it?”

“Compound fracture.” He covers his forearm again with his sleeve.

“When? How?”

Cregan hesitates. Suddenly, he no longer wants to be having this conversation. “Years ago.”

Just outside the airport waits that trusty fleet of black, tinted-window Escalades; but Aemond has requested that his 1960 Gold Star be there too. He takes his keys, helmet, and jacket from one of Comet’s hulking security guards. Shelby’s detail is notably more subdued since that night in Singapore; the man who dislocated your wrist has been exiled from the tour. Aemond climbs onto his motorcycle and starts the engine. The sound takes you back to Rome: when your hopes and spirits were high, when you and Aemond were still living on the light side of the moon.

“You in the mood for a ride, Shelby?” Aegon asks, smirking unkindly, taunting, chomping loudly on cotton candy flavored Bubble Yum. “Don’t forget your helmet. We’d all be lost without you.”

Shelby combs out her beachy blond waves with her artful fingers, tan, reedy, nails turquoise and adorned with golden koi fish. “You’re psychotic if you think I’m getting on that bike.”

“Jesus,” Jace mutters. He is as shocked as anyone by his abrupt demotion to only the second most villainous person in Comet’s retinue.

Aemond doesn’t react, doesn’t say anything to Shelby, doesn’t even look at her. But he does glance over at you. And the words rise in your throat like a burning sun at dawn: I’ll go, I’d love to go, I trust you, I want you. But before you can say anything, Aemond has knocked the kickstand out of the way and is weaving through thick afternoon traffic towards the Mandarin Oriental Hotel. And as the Escalades roll and the band chats around you—indistinctly, abstractedly—you keep staring out the window and searching for glimpses of Aemond like the rare flash of a meteor in a city sky; but you can’t find him.

Criston knows he’s brought Comet to dangerous ground, peppered with quagmires and landmines. So he has planned a ruthlessly hectic itinerary. As soon as you’ve received your room key and unpacked, it’s time for dinner at an all-you-can-eat sushi restaurant down the street. Criston herds the band there like the rugged Australian cattle dogs that your parents have back in Kansas City nip at the heels of snorting, intractable Black Angus bulls. You sit between Baela and Aegon, who is wearing his neon green tank top, matching Crocs (per usual), and khaki cargo shorts. He’s also gulping sake bombs until they dribble down his sunburned face. Countless varieties of sushi and side dishes rotate by on a conveyer belt, colorful little plates waiting to be snatched up: salmon, tuna, eel, octopus, shrimp, miniature omelets, fried tofu, Wagyu beef, squid, yellowtail, veggie rolls, chicken and pork dumplings, seaweed salad.

“You okay over there?” Aegon asks, grinning as he watches you stab at your eel sushi, topped with some kind of mayo-like sauce and delicious but tragically challenging to eat.

“I didn’t know how to use chopsticks before my dominant hand was put out of commission.” You glare down the row at Shelby. She glowers back. Since that night in Singapore, you circle each other like snarling undomesticated animals, wolves or coyotes. Now you’re on her radar. Now she knows there is something—that mysterious, ever-shifting, worrying something—between you and Aemond. She just doesn’t know what it is. Neither do you, neither does he, neither does anyone.

“Want me to feed you?” Aegon slurs flirtatiously. He plucks up a piece of your eel sushi with his chopsticks and promptly drops it in your lap. “Oh. Fuck.”

Baela presses the button on the counter to summon the server. “I’ll get you a fork.”

“You are a saint,” you tell her. “Patron saint of initiative. Or drive, whichever you prefer the sound of.” Aegon is mayhem, Aemond is lost causes. What am I?

“And you are an uncultured hick from Kansas.”

You smile at her. “Missouri.”

Your fork soon arrives. A few seats down the row, you hear Shelby ask innocently, like it doesn’t mean anything: “How old is Louis Tomlinson’s son now?”

Aemond shrugs. He’s watching the conveyor belt for vegan options; he keeps missing them when they pass by. “I don’t know, five?”

“No, Freddie?!” Luke says. “He’s gotta be like seven now. We saw him last summer at Niall’s pool party.”

“He was so cute,” Shelby says. She’s sitting on Aemond’s good side, as always. She rubs his back and you fight the urge to break her fingers one by one, snapping them in half like dry autumn twigs, lifeless and hollow. “Wasn’t he cute, honeybunch?”

“Sure,” Aemond replies distractedly. And of course Shelby is the type of person who believes that becoming a father will heal a man, rather than just dooming his children to be collateral damage.

Aegon peeks over the conveyer belt at the chefs who are preparing plates in the middle. He lurches and wobbles. Criston covers his own face with his hands, mortified. “Hey, hey, can I get a Crab Rangoon please?”

A chef says something in Japanese, soft and polite but clearly imploring him to sit back down.

Aegon repeats slowly: “Crab! Rangooooooon!”

“Hey dumbass,” Jace says. “That’s Chinese. We’re in Japan.”

“Oh. Right.” Aegon sighs, retreats, and orders himself another sake bomb.

You grab a plate of veggie rolls and another of fried tofu sushi off the conveyer belt and pass them down the row to Aemond. Shelby sends you the most venomous of glares, but Aemond mouths when she’s not paying attention: Thank you.

~~~~~~~~~~

Two shows in Tokyo, two performances on the stage where Aemond was mutilated. Of course, you don’t see mutilation when you look at him. You never have. You see the way the light hits the angles of his jaw and nose and cheekbones and think of marble faces in museums, generals, kings, saints, angels. You see the crystalline blue of his right eye and think of rivers, cool and rushing and clean. You see the ethereal haze of his left eye and think of other planets. You don’t know why everyone else reads his scar and blindness as a tale of unspeakable ruin. You can’t imagine seeing Aemond that way. It would be easier, less painful, simpler for you if you could. Maybe you could stop wanting him. Maybe you could stop dreaming about him, wisps of longing and memory that escape you as soon as you wake.

Aemond does not attend Comet’s concerts at the Budokan. They’re the only ones you’ve ever known him to miss. He rides out on his Gold Star instead, and then reappears to join the band for their post-show ritual in Jace’s suite, grim and quiet and scribbling in his black-paged notebook, smoking his cigarettes, sipping his Brambles. You cannot blame Aemond. You weren’t here last December when a piece of rigging collapsed during soundcheck and nearly killed him, and yet you can’t stop thinking about it; you can’t stop yourself from glancing up at the rafters during shows, wondering exactly how it happened, picturing Aemond bloody and unconscious on the stage, half-blinded and robbed without knowing it yet.

Tomorrow night is Comet Donati’s final performance in Tokyo, but today Criston has a day trip planned. He has filled every spare second of this tour stop with distractions. The band travels by bullet train (or shinkansen) and then local railways to Nara, the city that served as Japan’s capital in the 700s. Criston hires a tour guide—an 80-year old man called Toru-san, who possesses an incalculable amount of knowledge and also a very, very thick accent—to lead you all around Nara Park to see Isuien Garden, the Kasuga Taisha Shrine, the Nara National Museum, and finally the Great Buddha. Nara Park is full of food and souvenir vendors, as well as 1,200 sika deer that you can pet and feed, albeit at risk of being trampled by overenthusiastic herbivores. There are signs posted with warnings to exercise caution, complete with cartoon illustrations of deer gone rogue.

It’s 95 degrees outside with 80% humidity. You are drenched with sweat and guzzling boba tea. The handle of your bag from a gift shop is slung over your splint. Toru-san, despite his long pants and cardigan sweater, is looking spry as ever and is deep in conversation with Luke and Rhaena; he is regaling them with a bottomless well of Nara trivia. Cregan and Daeron are still browsing through gift shops, mostly for the opportunity to escape the heat and hover, sighing with relief, in front of every electric fan they come across. Aegon, lobster-level red—you aren’t sure if he’s more sunburned or flushed—is snoring under a tree as deer nibble at his cyan tank top and white cargo shorts. Aemond purchased probably $200 worth of deer crackers and has attracted a sizeable crowd of furry new friends. He’s like he always is around animals: beaming, immersed, at peace. Shelby is capturing pictures and video clips of him from a distance.

Nearby where you stand under the shade of a black pine tree, Baela is dressed in a crop top and yoga pants and stretching in the middle of a patch of grass. She keeps having to stop to shove deer away from her as they tiptoe close, searching for snacks. Jace is using Google Translate to flirt with a crowd of Japanese fangirls who have recognized him. They are giggling so loudly you can hear them from across a field. Baela is trying to ignore this. She falls out of a pose and sighs irritably, then walks over to you. Together, you watch Jace for a while, you slurping on your boba tea, Baela frowning with her hands on her willowy waist.

At last, she says: “Sometimes we love people who we know don’t deserve it. But that doesn’t make us love them any less. We just hate ourselves for not being stronger.”

“I think you’re incredibly strong, Baela.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. Strong enough to leave him. Strong enough to begin living your own life again.”

Her expression is suddenly uncharacteristically vulnerable, fearful. “I don’t know if I can do it. I’ve never been an adult without him.”

“You’d figure it out. And you wouldn’t be alone. You’d have Rhaena, and Luke, and ballet, and all your friends and family—”

“And you too, right?” she asks. “You’ll still be my friend? Even after you go back home?”

You are stunned into a silence that Baela first mistakes for rejection. Her face falls. “No no no, I’m not hesitating, you just caught me by surprise. Of course I’ll still be your friend after the tour is over. I’ll be your friend forever.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“And you’ll visit me in prison if I snap one day and throw Jace into a meatgrinder?”

You laugh and hug her, your sweat dampening each other’s clothes: her orange crop top, your Backstreet Boys t-shirt. “Absolutely. For sure.”

“Okay. I gotta go practice some more.” She spends long hours down in the hotel gym while everyone else is sleeping or partying or preparing for shows, running and stretching and yoga and repeating the same dance routines over and over again. You applaud and whistle as she leaves. “Stop,” Baela complains, but she’s grinning.

You procure another boba tea. You find a nice shady spot on a bench. You check your phone; there’s maybe fifteen more minutes until the band is scheduled to leave for the train station to begin the journey back to Tokyo. Naturally, Criston has dinner already planned: kaiseki ryori, a traditional multi-course meal. You wonder if there will be vegan options for Aemond. Your eyes drift back to him. They always seem to. He’s dragging his palm down the face of a ten-point buck as he feeds him a crumbling brown cracker. There’s a fawn curled up in Aemond’s lap. His blond hair is slicked back off his forehead, his black shirt mostly unbuttoned. Sweat gleams on his chest. Your fingertips ache to draw sloping lines and lazy circles in it.

“I never worried about him,” Criston says. He’s appeared beside you, arms crossed guardedly. You move over so there’s room for Criston on the bench. He sits, distant and troubled. “I always worried about the others. Aegon and Jace especially. But not Aemond.”

“Because he never needed you,” you say quietly.

“He didn’t,” Criston agrees. “And so I wasn’t there to protect him that day.”

The day of the accident. “From what I understand, it wasn’t something you could have prevented.”

“No, I couldn’t have stopped that piece of rigging from falling. But I could have made it so he wasn’t standing under it.”

You wait for Criston to explain. That’s an element that people often underestimate: the power of waiting for someone to be ready.

“It was soundcheck,” Criston says. His voice is strained, hushed. He repeatedly touches the stubble of his beard, a nervous habit. “Aemond was on time, as always. Aemond was exactly where he was supposed to be. But no one else was. Aegon and Jace had gone off to a strip club or a burlesque show or something, I don’t remember. They came back to the hotel and were absolutely hammered, they were crawling around on the hallway floor and puking in corners, laughing hysterically, completely out of their minds. Cregan and Luke were there trying to get them cleaned up. I was on the phone with Cregan, he was pissed, probably the most angry I’ve ever heard him, he kept pausing to yell at Aegon. He’d dragged him into a cold shower, but Aegon was fighting, trying to bite and kick him and whatever the hell else. So eventually I decided to go to the hotel and deal with it. Aemond offered to go with me. I told him no, you stay here, I’ll bring the other four even if I have to get the security guys to toss Aegon and Jace over their shoulders and carry them. Then I left.”

“And that’s when it happened,” you realize. “While you were gone.”

“Yes,” Criston says. And he gazes across Nara Park, here in body but his mind trapped in the maze of the past.

“You had no way of knowing what would happen, Criston. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I should have told him to come with me back to the hotel. Or I should have stopped Aegon and Jace from getting wasted. If they’d been on time, if soundcheck had happened as scheduled, no one would have been standing where that piece of rigging fell. Aemond would still be the leader of Comet. He would still have his face, his sight, his life.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you say again.

“Alicent blames me,” he confesses. And you only know who she is because you’ve asked Aegon: the wife of Viserys Targaryen, the mother of his three sons. “She’ll never forgive me.”

Is that really why she avoids you, Criston? Or is there another reason? “If that’s true, it’s only because she’s feeling a lot of horrible things—grief, pain, regret, guilt—and she’s directing them at you. You haven’t earned them. You’re just the person standing in the line of fire. They’re a reflection of Alicent’s inner turmoil, not of your own worth. I think you’ve done a phenomenal job trying to keep this band safe and happy. And I know it’s not easy. I know it’s damn near impossible.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, looking at you with large, dark, truthful eyes like a dog’s.

And you imagine a world in which you’d never seen Aegon after that night in Kansas City, never met Aemond, Baela, Rhaena, Luke, Cregan, Daeron, Criston. “I’m glad I’m here too.”

Criston reaches over and—for a moment, so briefly you could have imagined it—rests his hand on your shoulder like he sometimes does to Aemond and Luke. Then he leaves to collect Cregan and Daeron from a shaved ice vendor. Shelby has strolled over to consult with Toru-san, presumably so she can add his trivia to her Instagram posts and TikTok videos. You go to Aemond.

“I have a confession to make,” he says solemnly as you approach.

The oxygen vanishes from your lungs; you try to hide this. “What is it?”

Aemond smiles up at you. “When the tour guide was leading us here, I thought he kept saying that the park was full of bears. And I didn’t want to kill the mood or anything, but I was definitely concerned about going on a field trip to feed over 1,000 uncaged bears. I am very, very relieved that he was in fact saying deer.”

You chuckle and sit next to Aemond on the grass, petting the fawn in his lap. It blinks sleepily at you, its fur soft and spotted, its ears pricked up and curious.

“What’s your souvenir for this stop of the tour?” Aemond asks.

You pull it out of your bag to show him: a small stuffed sika deer complete with floppy felt antlers. “Isn’t it adorable?”

“It is,” he says. “Are you going to have room for all these keepsakes in your apartment back home?”

“Already fantasizing about me leaving, huh?”

“No,” Aemond says, seriously now. Deadly serious. “No, I’m not.” And then Criston is shouting through cupped hands for everybody to huddle up so you can all head to the train station.

It’s not until the band is trekking out of Nara Park towards the blissful promise of air conditioning that you realize someone is missing. When you look around, you see Criston, Aemond, Shelby, Aegon (rubbing his eyes and yawning), Baela, Jace, Rhaena, Luke, Cregan, and a smattering of security guards dressed in black.

“Wait,” you say. “Where’s Daeron?”

A chorus of confusion: “What?” Huh?” “He’s not here?” At last, Criston spies him sitting alone on a wooden park bench, glumly eating through his mountain of shaved ice.

“What the hell is he doing?!” Jace says impatiently, swiping perspiration from his forehead.

Aegon massages your shoulders. “I think this might call for your particular area of expertise, Stargirl.” And when Aemond’s eye flicks to Aegon fleetingly, resentfully, you think for the first time: And where were you, Aegon, when Aemond was waiting all those months ago? Whoring, drinking, self-destructing in ways that take other people down with you? Then you leave him.

Through the heat that lays thick over the city like a tangle of vines, you trudge to the bench where the youngest Targaryen brother is lingering. “Daeron? What’s wrong?”

He stares gloomily down into his shaved ice: blood-colored, strawberry, ichigo. “Everyone thinks I’m always joking and optimistic, but I’m not.”

You ask gently: “What are you really, Daeron?”

“I don’t know what to be. That’s the problem. I worry about it all the time. I can’t win. If I’m sad, then I’m ungrateful for this tremendous opportunity. But if I’m happy, it’s like I’m dancing on Aemond’s grave.”

“He’s not dead, Daeron,” you say.

“Well, yeah, obviously.”

“But a lot of the time people talk about him like he is. You speak around him, over him, through him. Do you think he doesn’t notice?” Do you think he can’t feel the weight of that dark gravity that roots him to the earth? Do you think he can disentangle who he is from the wreckage that has buried its shrapnel in his bones?

Daeron isn’t insulted by what you’ve said. Instead, he seems fascinated. He seems grateful, like you’ve sat down to help him with an especially baffling puzzle. “What would he want from us, do you think?”

“I think he wants to know that his time in Comet wasn’t wasted. That even if he leaves, he will still be a part of this family. I think he wants to be acknowledged. He doesn’t want pity or awkward silences, he doesn’t want to pretend that the accident never happened. He wants to know that his life will go on in spite of it.”

Daeron ruminates on this, taking a bite of his towering mound of shaved ice. “If I said something about him at the last Tokyo show tomorrow, do you think he’d mind? I’ve had this idea for a while, but I didn’t know how he’d take it.”

“That depends on what you say.”

Daeron asks, peering up at you with large pale eyes: more translucent than Aegon’s, more harmless than Aemond’s. He has been shown more kindness than either of them; he is perhaps less deep, less singularly brilliant, but also less burdened. It is a trade many would happily agree to. It is a trade they would pay for in blood. “What should I say?”

You smile at Daeron. “The truth.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“I’d like to take a moment to share something with all of you,” Daeron says into his microphone as soon as Comet finishes The Worst Way To Be. The audience lowers their cheers to a reverent, intensely attentive murmur.

“Wait, what?” Baela whispers to you and Rhaena as you stand in the front row. Shelby, who had been looking rather bored, whips out her phone and begins a live stream. Aegon, Jace, Luke, and Cregan are upbeat and beaming—as is expected of them, as is required—but they pass each other nervous glances like folded paper notes in a high school classroom. This is not in the script.

“I just want to say thank you,” Daeron continues. His voice reverberates off the walls of the Budokan. “Thank you to all of you guys, of course. Our amazing, incredible fans. Thank you for letting us live this dream of a life.” There are claps and whistles, shrieked declarations of undying adoration. Daeron takes a deep breath. His hands are shaking; you can see the microphone tremble. “And thank you to my big brother Aemond.” Instantaneously, the crowd goes as close to silent as it is possible for a stadium at max capacity to be. The others are gawking at him openly now, unable to paper over it with masklike smiles. “I had been following Comet around for years before I got the offer to officially join. So I know how much work and talent Aemond poured into this band. I’m beyond honored to be up on this stage tonight performing for all of you, but I wish it could have happened a different way. I wish Aemond could be here too. And no matter where he goes in the world or what he does next, he will always be the person who made Comet Donati possible. And he will always be my greatest inspiration. I love you, man. We all love you.”

And the audience erupts into deafening cheers and applause, all for a soul who could not bring himself to attend the show. There are chants of We love you, Aemond! that go on for more than five minutes. Aegon is shouting as loudly as anyone; Jace, Luke, and Cregan are running around the stage and encouraging the crowd. They are a little shellshocked, but they are genuine.

Even Jace, you think, you marvel. Even Jace is honoring him. He doesn’t hate Aemond after all. He provokes and he taunts, sure, and he crosses lines on occasion, but Jace doesn’t hate Aemond. He might even miss him.

For their last night in Tokyo, Criston has grander aspirations for the band than the usual wind down in Jace’s suite. He gets everyone—Aemond included, fetched from the bar of the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, already several Brambles deep—into the Escalades to drive to Club Camelot, where Criston has reserved one of the three floors for Comet. It swiftly fills like a flute of champagne: women in sparkling gowns, men with baiting smiles, security guards and label executives and friends and acquaintances and models. The tiles on the floor are black and white, but bathed in sapphire luminescence that covers everyone like rain. Empty hands are filled with frosty bottles and glasses clinking with ice. The song that thunders out of the speakers is a throwback: Butterfly by Crazy Town.

Cregan has acquired a harem of sorts; you look once and he’s flocked by three gazelle-like companions, you look again and there are five of them. Jace is mingling freely. Aemond is talking to Daeron—thanking him, it appears, offering heartfelt gratitude—while Shelby greets a pack of influencer-types as they arrive. They squeal and jump up and down with her in their clicking stilettos, then take turns snapping each other’s pictures. Criston actually appears to be somewhat relaxed. He sips on a Sapporo Premium and chats with one of the guys from the label, gesturing casually with his expressive hands. Aegon is curled up in a booth with Selena Gomez. Yes, Selena freaking Gomez. He keeps playing with her glossy dark tresses and making her giggle, propping his sunburned face up on his knuckles, glowing in that way that he does. It’s not just for you. It’s never been just for you. And sometimes he’s close to you and sometimes he’s not, and right now he’s on the other side of the solar system, he’s out in the Oort cloud, he’ll be back to visit earth in a few hundred years. Aegon disappears into the bathroom every few minutes. You see smudges of white powder on his hands, under his nose. If he tried to talk to you right now, you wouldn’t know what to say to him. He would feel like a stranger.

You’re watching Aemond. You wish you weren’t, but you are. He’s in all black, the top three buttons of his shirt undone. You nurse a Bramble and follow Baela, Rhaena, and Luke around the dancefloor, barely able to hear them over the music. Luke is lightheartedly making fun of Baela for something. Her earrings? Her shoes?

“I’ll have you know that I’m very important around here!” Baela cries over the music. “I’m the patron saint of drive!”

“Patron saint of driving herself to the Gucci store, maybe,” Luke says.

They’re all laughing. You feel like you’re observing them through a transparent wall, like you’re at the aquarium and they’re a dazzling rare species and you’re some grubby kid with your palms pressed to the glass. What am I still doing here? Why did I ever think I belonged here?

You break away from Baela, Rhaena, and Luke and drift by Shelby and her fellow influencers, not intending to eavesdrop but catching a few fragments of their conversation like Jupiter and Saturn capture moons. As Aemond talks to Daeron across the room, Shelby is lamenting her love life. She thinks she’s being discrete, but she’s had more than a few gin and tonics.

“No, he still…he probably doesn’t want me looking at him…he’ll let me blow him, but he won’t actually…you know…?”

And you remember what you told him on that balcony in Reykjavik: I think you haven’t fucked anyone since the accident, and you’re terrified to.

You were right. You’re still right. And here you are, like mirrors: Aemond not fucking Shelby, you not fucking Aegon, and there’s no especially good reason for either except that it just doesn’t feel right. After a while, Shelby and her entourage leave to check out another nightclub down the block. More photo opportunities, you suspect. A change of scenery.

“How’s your wrist?” Jace inquires. He’s found you loitering on the outskirts of the dancefloor. He’s wearing a black sequined blazer with nothing underneath except skin and ink. He’s unsteady on his feet, a Vesper sloshing in his glass. Now the song that’s playing is Ed Sheeran’s I Don’t Care, featuring Justin Bieber. In the booth she’s sharing with Aegon, Selena Gomez audibly groans.

“Great. It actually feels better when no one talks to me.”

Jace cackles, far too loudly. “You are hilarious. Hey, hey, listen.” His free hand skates around your waist. Instinctively, you jolt away from him.

“Nope.”

“Listen.” He grips you more adamantly. “Let’s do this.”

“No, no, that’s a very kind offer but I’d rather chew off my own limbs, thank you.”

“Look, I don’t care if you’ve hooked up with Aegon,” Jace purrs into your ear, sweating out vodka and gin, his curls brushing against your cheek. “Hell, I don’t care if you’re still hooking up with Aegon. I’m better than him. I have to be, right? That fat drunk. I’ll show you.”

You try to pull away from him again. You’re wearing the short sparkly dress you bought in Reykjavik, black velvet and silver stars. “Jace, don’t touch me.”

“Come on, Stargirl, give me a shot—”

“Jace,” you say harshly, your eyes blazing. “Do not touch me.”

“Okay,” he sighs; and, to his credit, he releases you. He holds up his palm in surrender. “Okay, fine, but when you change your mind—”

Aemond soars in out of nowhere, a comet, a meteor, the asteroid that killed the dinosaurs. His fist connects with Jace’s jaw. Jace’s Vesper goes flying; blood spurts from his mouth, split lips and lost teeth. “Don’t you fucking touch her!” Aemond is roaring. He has Jace pinned to the floor, black and white and sapphire and red. “When she says not to touch her, you don’t, you hear me?!”

People are screaming and descending upon them, trying to pull them apart. Your Bramble shatters against the tile floor. Criston is here, and security guards, and Baela and Rhaena and Luke and Aegon. Everyone is talking at the same time, so it’s almost like no one is. Jace is striking at Aemond from the ground. Aemond hits him again, and again, knuckles into defenseless flesh and bone, blood vessels bursting, nerves on fire. The music stops, the lights come on.

“Aemond, stop!” you shout. “Aemond, Aemond, you’re going to kill him!”

“Let him go, Aemond, please!” Baela is yelling, and there’s raw terror in her voice.

Then Jace lands a solid punch at last, a hook that comes in from Aemond’s left. Blood pours from Aemond’s nose, it’s on his face and his throat, it’s running down his chest. Cregan arrives, locks his arms around Aemond’s waist, and heaves him away. Before Jace has a second to recover, Aegon wrenches him up by the collar of his blazer and slaps him open-handed across the face.

“He can’t see on that side, you fucking snake!”

Criston bellows: “Aegon, back up, back up, back the fuck up!” He finally gets a good look at Jace: bleeding, bruised, teeth missing, blinking dazedly at the spectators, too stunned to feel the pain yet. “Oh my God!” Criston whirls to Aemond, who is struggling against Cregan’s grasp. “How’s he going to perform in five days, huh?! Jesus Christ, he looks like he’s been butchered! How am I going to cover that up?! How is he going to sing?!” Criston pulls Jace to his feet; he practically has to carry him. Baela follows after them, more distressed than you’ve ever seen her, flowing tears and strangled sobs. Rhaena and Luke go too.

You, Aegon, and Daeron rush to Aemond. He’s bent over and spitting blood onto the floor so he doesn’t choke on it. “Not broken,” Cregan pronounces after examining his nose. “Just gonna bleed real bad. Needs pressure on it.”

“Are you okay?” Aegon asks you, a hand careful and tender on your face. He’s back again, for a minute, an hour, a day.

Your voice quakes. “Yeah.”

“What did Jace do…?”

“Nothing, nothing that bad, I mean he grabbed my waist but—”

“Aegon?” Selena Gomez says tentatively, waiting nearby and hugging her arms around herself.

“Yeah, one second, love. Give me a second.” He appraises Aemond and whistles. “Man, you are wrecked.” And not just physically. He’s incensed, he’s in shock. You reach for Aemond’s hand and he lets you take it.

“You got him?” Cregan asks you.

“I’ll clean him up. I’ll take care of him.” And as blood continues to run down his face, you draw Aemond towards the bathrooms. You lead him inside the women’s room and lock the door, blue walls and white florescent light. Somewhat ungainly—relying mostly upon your non-dominant hand—you press a pile of paper towels against his nose and tell him to hold it there. Then you wet more paper towels and wipe down his knuckles, his face, his throat. The blood on his chest has run beneath his glossy black shirt. We match, you think randomly. “Can I…?”

He yanks the shirt over his head, then returns the mass of crimson-stained paper towels to his nose. Fortunately, the bleeding appears to be slowing. You erase the smudged trail of scarlet that runs all the way to the waistline of his dark jeans. When you reach the end of it, Aemond flinches away from you; not a pained flinch, but a fearful one. He turns his back on you and walks to the other end of the small and shadowless room. He braces one palm against the wall and sighs deeply. He throws the wad of paper towels in the trashcan and then covers his face with his hand, shaking his head.

“Aemond,” you say. And you wait for him to look you in the eye. It takes a long time. “What do you want?” Why were you watching me and Jace? Why did you lose control?

“Nothing,” he replies immediately.

“That’s a lie.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” you insist, your voice fracturing. “It does matter. Just tell me what you want.”

“Why, so you can let me down easy? Or worse, pretend to be into it to make me feel better, to help piece me and my fragile little ego back together? I don’t beg for anything. You really think I’m going to beg you to want me?”

“No, you’re too fucking proud, you’d never even ask for it. You’ll beat people half to death for things you’re too much of a coward to say out loud, and I’m supposed to feel sorry for you?!”

“Then why are you even in here with me?! Just go back to Aegon, I know that’s what you want. I guess you’ll have to wait in line behind Selena Gomez, but he’ll work his way back around to you eventually.”

“Jace stole something from you, right?” you say. “You feel like he stole the band from you after you were kicked out, and then tonight you felt like he was stealing something else, and that’s why you freaked out and almost murdered him—”

“No. No, because you’re not mine.”

“What do you want, Aemond?” you ask him again, tears of exhaustion and desperation in your eyes.

“I don’t want anything from you,” he says, coming in closer. “So you’re absolved, you’re free to go, I don’t need your goddamn charity—”

Your good hand juts out, and what you plan to do is plant it against his bare chest and push him away. What you do instead—as if by muscle memory, a reflex, an instinct—is reach up to plunge your fingers into his hair. And then his palm is cradling the small of your back and his lips are on yours, moving seamlessly like how currents thread through the ocean. He helps lift you up onto the counter; there is just enough room between two of the sinks. Your legs link around Aemond as he presses himself to you, lips still tinged with coppery blood, bare chest, his waist, his hips. Your back hits the mirror—cool and unyielding, the ink of his lyrics flat against the glass—with enough force to make a thump.

“Are you okay—?”

“I’m more okay than I’ve been in years.”

He tilts up your chin and kisses you deeply, dizzyingly, his tongue darting between your lips. He tastes like his Brambles, sweetness cut with the bite of gin, and smoke, and something else too, something that’s just purely him, something you could drown in like the river of his clear right eye. Gently, you bring your fingertips to his face, to his scar. “Don’t,” he pleads softly, pained.

“There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Don’t—”

“Aemond, look at me.” And you hold his face still so you know he hears you. “There’s nothing wrong with you. There has never been anything wrong with you.”

You watch it hit him like a stone into water, ripples that wash away everything he’s felt before. He knows you mean it, he can feel it, the same way you can feel the care with which he caresses you, not just lust but engulfing warmth, wordless veneration. He whispers between kisses: “Tell me what to do. Tell me what you want.”

Your lock your gaze with his, then reach down to unbutton his jeans. It’s difficult with the splint, but you manage. You think he might stop you, you prepare yourself for it, but he doesn’t. Instead, Aemond’s hands vanish beneath your dress and slip off your panties, black lace you hadn’t planned on anyone seeing tonight. As you kiss his face—jagged scar, flushed cheek, the slope of his jaw—his fingers slide into a pool of staggering heat and wetness.

He moans. “Oh fuck, that’s for me?”

“I’ve wanted this from the start.”

“Show me…show me how you like it…”

You guide his hand to exactly the right spot and give him a rhythm, a pressure, a pace that rolls a euphoric shudder down your spine. He’s barely touched you, and already you’re shaking all over; you’re throbbing, you’re dazed with that delicious needful aching, you’re gasping into the sweltering, salt-strewn dampness of his neck. His fingertips stroke you in commanding circles—only a few times—until you’re on the precipice, until you stop him. You’re ready, even though he’s huge: long and thick, revealed as he tugs down his jeans and boxers. He pins your uninjured hand against the mirror and kisses and bites at your throat as he eases himself inside you: a stretching that is intense but not unpleasant, hunger being satisfied. And when he thrusts—carefully at first, waiting for you to tell him he can be rougher—there are so many layers of pleasure that it stuns you, it leaves you speechless. Has it ever been like this before? Never, never, never, not once, not for a moment, not with anybody. His future was stolen from him, but he’s taken your past from you; he’s carved it out like a gemstone from the earth and locked it away in a vault no one remembers the passcode to.

“I’m so close,” you whisper, you beg. “Aemond, please, please, I want to come for you…” And you gasp as his fingers skim down your belly again, stroking you forcefully as his thrusts become deeper, quicker, impossibly powerful.

His voice is low and murmuring. His scent is everywhere; it’s all you know how to breathe. “You okay, baby? You alright?”

“Yes, yes, oh God, Aemond, don’t stop, please don’t stop…”

“I won’t stop, baby. You’re doing so well, you’re almost there.”

“Aemond…yes…I love this…”

“I love you.”

He what…? He WHAT…??

And it doesn’t just drag you over the edge; it pushes you, it propels you, you go plummeting off the cliffside and freefall for miles. There’s no disguising it. You have to bury your face in his chest to keep from crying out, clinging to him, your fingernails leaving indents like crescent moons. Aemond, fighting his own climax viciously, lasts just long enough to fuck you through the aftershocks and then empties himself not just physically but also of the shame and aimlessness of the past seven months, of his fears, of his suspicions.

“Wait,” you say as he pulls away from you. You yank a paper towel out of the dispenser and wet it with cold water. First you cool his forehead and the back of his neck with it, then you wipe his fingers and his cock. Still perched on the counter, you wet another paper towel for yourself.

“No,” Aemond tells you. “Let me.” He takes it from you, opens your thighs, and kisses your mouth—teasingly, biting and sucking your lower lip—as he spreads your folds and cleans them of his seed, abundant hot white fluid that you can feel dripping out of you. As he passes over where you are most sensitive—where you can already feel longing for him rebuilding brick by brick—you jump a little, and you both laugh. I could go again, you think. I could do this with him forever. And then, as Aemond descends from the chemical high like a plane gliding down towards a tarmac, you watch as those old familiar poisons—shame, aimlessness, fear, suspicion—begin to fill up in him again, slowly but unmistakably.

He throws out the paper towels and takes several steps back. He starts putting on his clothes, staring at the wall, then at the mirror, not at you but past you, at himself, his clear river-blue eye wide and vacant. He looks horrified by what he’s done; or perhaps, rather, by what he’s said.

You grab your panties off the counter and step into them, readjusting your dress. “Look, uh…if you didn’t mean what you said…that’s totally cool. I get it, sometimes people say things in the moment that aren’t real, there’s the oxytocin and the dopamine, and I don’t want you to feel…uh…you know…like you have to keep up a false pretense or anything…”

Aemond turns around and walks out of the bathroom, the door slamming behind him.

“Okay,” you say to yourself. “Okay. I can fix this.” You use the toilet quickly—UTIs are not welcome here—and then head out onto the dancefloor.

The lights are dim again, and thank God for that; your makeup is smudged, your hair unruly, your eyes glazed, your dress rumpled and stained. Cregan is the only person still waiting. “Hey,” he says flatly, then squints at you. You avoid his astute greyish eyes.

“Hey. Where is everyone?”

“Criston took Jace to the hospital. Baela is there too. Rhaena and Luke are back at the hotel. Aegon is presumably balls deep in Selena Gomez. Aemond just sprinted out of this club and I’d guess he’s headed back to the hotel too. Daeron went after him. I think that’s everybody.”

You shift your weight from foot to foot uneasily. “Shelby?”

“Oh, right. Haven’t seen her. Still out with her friends.” His eyes sweep over you. “On a scale of one to ten, how homicidal would she be if she found out about whatever happened in that bathroom?”

“Nothing happened.”

“Uh huh.” Cregan strides towards the stairwell that leads down to the front door. “Let’s go.”

Back at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, you swipe your keycard and flick the lights on in your suite. You stand there alone, feeling the evidence of what you’ve done: sore muscles and bruised skin and pooling wetness, both yours and his. You are absorbed with thoughts of what you’re going to say to Aemond when you confront him, how much of your truth you are willing to bare. And then your eyes catch on the small trashcan beside your bed, which reminds you of the one back in Singapore, which reminds you of your pack of birth control pills discarded on a pile of crumpled soda cans and snack wrappers.

I haven’t taken a pill in days. How many days? A week?

“Oh my God,” you breathe. And then, more frantically: “Oh no, oh no, no no no…”

What do I do? What the hell do I do?

You race out into the hallway and knock on Baela’s door. Nobody answers. You try Rhaena’s next. She appears in her pajamas, pink and dotted with tiny green Tyrannosaurus rexes. “Hi,” she says agreeably enough, but she’s rubbing her eyes drowsily.

“Hi. I’m really, really sorry to bother you, but it’s an emergency.”

She perks up considerably. “Okay, how can I help?”

“Where’s Luke?”

“In the shower.”

“So he can’t hear us right now?”

“No, he can’t.”

“Good. Do you know when Baela will be back from the hospital?”

“Not anytime soon,” Rhaena says. “She messaged me that Jace needs stitches and has a concussion. They’ll be there all night, at least.”

You exhale, a defeated little squeak. “Is Aegon around? With or without Selena Gomez?”

“No, they haven’t come back yet. I have no idea where they are.”

“Okay.” You swallow noisily.

“What’s going on with you?” Rhaena asks, concerned.

“This really is not a Rhaena situation. This is a Baela or Aegon situation.”

“Alright, but neither of them are here. So I’m who you’ve got.”

You stare at her. “I need Plan B. Do you happen to have any Plan B?”

“Plan B…? Like, you just had unprotected sex with someone Plan B?”

“Yes, exactly, that one.”

Rhaena gapes, scandalized. “With who?!”

“Confidential,” you say briskly. “Do you have any or not?”

“No, I definitely don’t have any Plan B lying around.”

“No,” you groan. Tears are welling up in your eyes. “What am I going to do? How do I get Plan B in Japan?!”

“We’ll figure this out,” Rhaena says. She dashes to her nightstand to grab her iPhone. “Don’t panic. It’ll be okay. Let’s Google 24-hour pharmacies in Tokyo…”

You don’t have Criston here to summon an Escalade—nor would you willingly risk him finding out about this—but Rhaena uses Google Translate to ask the hotel’s front desk to call a taxi. She shows the taxi driver an address, figures out how many yen you owe him, and then asks him very politely (if haltingly) in Japanese to wait ten minutes while you’re inside the pharmacy so you can take a return trip as well. He seems to agree.

Rhaena accompanies you into the pharmacy and repeats these steps: Google Translate, an exchange of yen, the receipt of a service. She tells you that based on her quick research, Plan B is usually by prescription only in Japan, but pharmacists will sometimes be willing to prescribe it on the spot to a patient in need. Rhaena spends a long time typing out a message for the middle-aged, bespectacled pharmacist, then points to you. This is my friend, the maybe-pregnant slut from Missouri, you imagine her saying. She needs emergency contraception. It’s really in all of humanity’s best interests for her not to continue her bloodline.

“You have to show him your ID,” Rhaena tells you.

You give your passport to the pharmacist, and then he hands you a small package. You and Rhaena purchase a bottle of Coke Zero as well. You gulp down the single tablet as the pharmacist watches with bushy raised eyebrows, amused. You are pleased to discover that the taxi driver has waited, and within fifteen minutes you and Rhaena are back at the hotel.

“You’ve talked to a lot of people tonight,” you tell Rhaena matter-of-factly as you ride the elevator back up to the band’s floor.

“Oh, yeah. I guess I did. I mean, I’ve been practicing. And you needed me.”

“I’m proud of you,” you say.

Rhaena smiles sheepishly. “Thanks.”

“And I’ll be even more proud of you when I get my period.”

She giggles, she trots off to her suite, you retreat into yours. You collapse onto the floor and gaze up at the ceiling, studying the specks and grooves in the tiles like constellations.

“It was only one time,” you say to the ceiling. “I was on the pill for years. That takes a while to leave my system, right? I mean, what are the odds? It’s fine. It’s totally fine. Nothing’s going to happen, right?”

Right?

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