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klausysworld · 5 months ago

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Nik Michaels

Klaus had been going back to the same little art shop for weeks now. His studio at home was stacked with paints but it didn't stop him going back at least once every few days.

The little bell chimed gently above the door as he stepped inside the cozy room. The scent of lavender floated through the room whilst the soft hum of music drifted past the selection of canvases and shelves.

His eyes immediately searched for her familiar face.

Y/N was handing a customer their receipt along with a beautifully decorated paper bag which contained whatever supplies they had bought. He moved out the buyers way when they headed for the door and took their place at the till.

"Hi Nik." She greeted, a smile on her face which he couldn't help but mirror.

"Busy day, sweetheart?" He asked as that damned bell rang again and a fellow artist made their way inside.

"Always busy in New Orleans!" She chirped, her eyes bright and keen as she waved at the other woman in the shop.

Klaus hummed faintly and tapped his fingers gently against the wood that stood between them. He waited relatively patiently for her to serve the woman before waiting for her attention again.

She turned back to him and gave him a cute little head tilt. "You can't possibly need more paint?" She laughed, the sound ran right along his spine and he felt his hairs stand on edge.

"Well paints aren't all you sell now are they, love?" He grinned and she shook her head.

"Pick whatever you like." She told him, gesturing to the contents of her shop making him push that little pout to his face.

"You aren't going to come out from behind there and help?" He questioned, tone playful. Her cheeks went an adorable shade of pink as she pushed the pointless gate that separated her and her customers to come over to his side.

Klaus smiled as she came over to him. He loved when he got to be so close. She was the kindest, most gentle hearted person he had ever met.

His eyes took in the soft, beautiful features of her face before trailing downwards. Her dress was a soft shade of blue in colour, one of his favourites. The bodice was fitted perfectly, the built in cups showing the perfect shape of each of her breasts before the aline skirt hid the rest of her curves. He glanced to the comfortable but never less than pretty flats that adorned her feet. Klaus loved that she never wore heels, kept her small and dainty.

Klaus was certain that even without his superhuman strength, it would be easy to pick her up, spin her around, lift her up, catch her, anything.

His eyes snapped back up to hers, taking in the way her irises swirled with colour. Suddenly the realisation dawned on him that her soft lips were moving, he tuned back into the conversation.

"Canvases? Or do you want something else like uh the dream catchers and things? I know you don't usually but there are some more...masculine ones you could have..." She offered, eyes darting round the room as she spoke about different things and thought of anything else she could offer him. "I have candles and incense? Uh...evil eyes? Some things to bring luck and stuff? You don't seem like a crystal guy..." She murmured, thinking aloud and he couldn't help but feel a little amused.

"Not particularly, but for you sweetheart I could be." He smirked and Y/N looked down with a smile.

"What did you come in for Nik?" She asked and he clicked his tongue.

"Well.." He muttered, his expression never dulling. "I came in hoping for a date...perhaps you have a spare evening this week?" Klaus proposed, his eyes wondering over her again without meaning to.

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek, it wasn't the first time he had asked for a date; in fact he asked pretty much every single time he walked in there.

"Nik-" She sighed softly and he huffed.

"Oh come on sweetheart! Just one dinner, one glass of wine...one kiss...one touch...one-"

"Nik!" She scolded and he groaned unseriously.

"Y/N..." He borderline whined and she giggled. "I'll buy every last brush in this store. Every last tube of paint, every sheet of paper, everything for one evening where you're mine and mine alone."

"If you buy everything it'll take me forever to restock." She shrugged and he swallowed down the little growl that his wolf produced.

"Then I'll spend all week helping you stack the shelves," He grinned and looked down at her, wanting nothing more than to grab her perfect little face and kiss that teasing smile right off her face. "I'll have to lift you up to help you reach those high shelves. Do tell me love, how did you get those up their?" Klaus asked as he eyed the beginners painting gift sets that rest far to high up for her adorable height to reach.

"Hm? Oh. My ex put them up there...they're just display ones, thats why people ask for them and I get some from out back." She explained and his light mood lowered.

"When was this ex last around?" He questioned, desperately trying to sound casual however it was anything but.

"Oh he doesn't come around here anymore." She told him simply but there was an underlying tone to her words.

"Did you end on good terms?" Klaus asked, curiosity obvious but also his concern.

"Uh...sure...you know, all breakups are messy." She mumbled, her attention on a little feather that dangled from a dream catcher she was fiddling with.

Klaus nodded silently, understanding that the topic needed to be dropped for the time being. He cleared his throat and picked the decoration from her hand.

"I like this one." He decided, whether it was because it was pretty or because she had touched it was unclear.

"You sure?" She checked, that smile on her face always contagious and it made him nod.

"Definitely."

"I'll bag it up for you" She told him, taking the dream catcher back and going back behind to the till. Klaus leaned against it, gazing at her as she picked a bag out for him. Each paper back was hand painted by her to be unique, there must have been hundreds ready and he couldn't help but wonder how much time she spent each week preparing them all. His eyes watched her hands wrap the item in a couple layers of tissue paper before gently placing it in the bag and placing it up in front of him. "Cash or card?" she asked, eyes back on his.

"Cash" He answered automatically, pulling out a fifty and she shook her head.

"Nik, no. No more big tips." She told him, borderline whined and he grinned.

"Oh love, you deserve the tips. Think of it as me paying for the bag." He offered a solution and she huffed.

"The dream catcher is $5. The paper bag is not worth $45." She argued and he shook his head.

"The bags are as beautiful as the item. And the dream catcher is worth more than $5" He countered and she sighed softly to herself as she reluctantly took the money from his fingers. "So...about that date" He brought up and she shot him a playful glare.

"I'm...very busy." She muttered and he hummed, clearly unconvinced.

"Perhaps you could schedule me in for next week then? Morning, afternoon, evening, middle of the night, it doesn't matter." He listed, becoming all the more eager, bordering on desperate.

"I'm just not ready for a relationship at the moment Nik and I don't think I could go on one date with you without wanting another." She sighed and he softened.

"Alright" He whispered with a nod. "I understand that..." He paused for a moment as he took the bag. "I can wait." He shrugged and her brows furrowed slightly.

"Wait?" She questioned and he nodded.

"I'm a patient man, I can wait for you to be ready." He told her and he meant it.

Y/N was human. She didn't know who or what he was. He wasn't Klaus Mikaelson the crazed hybrid, disgrace to the wolves and tyrant to the vampires, father to the tribrid and son to the original witch. He was just Nik, an artist. So simple yet it allowed him to be so much more. A man instead of a monster.

It was nice having Y/N's attention, she didn't have any twisted intentions. No ulterior motives, she wasn't evil or calculated, she was just kind and genuine.

"I'll still be coming here every week for paints and what not, then when you're ready I'll take you somewhere fancy." He winked and she laughed softly.

"I'll see you in a few days." She told him as he stepped back toward the door.

"I'll see you soon sweetheart."

And obviously he did. He came back all the time. Often giving her little paintings he had made with things from her shop. They could be seen hanging up in the back. Y/N lived in the apartment above her shop and almost never left the building, she had no need to unless she needed to go shopping. She went out for her weekly visit to town on Monday as it was the only day her art job closed. Klaus would almost always be roaming around the supermarket, waiting for her to show up so he could help pick out her dinners for the week and carry her bags home for her whilst she scolded him for trying to pay for her groceries.

Back home his family never knew where Klaus was going so often. All he said on a Monday morning was that he'd be back later to Hope and then would be gone for hours.

Never would any of them have thought he would be pushing a trolley round each aisle or juggling cartons round a shop.

Once he helped her get everything inside he would carry the bags up the steep steps leading from the back of her store but he never went into her apartment. She hadn't ever invited him in. He would just pass her bags over the threshold whilst she spoke to him from her kitchen as she put things away. When she came back out he would help her organise out back and sometimes he got to decorate the paper bags with her, swirling beautiful patterns and scenes across the material.

He'd only leave when it got dark and she became hungry, not without offering to take her out of course. Inevitably Klaus would go home in a strangely good mood, taking Hope to bed and reading her a story before going to his own room with only one thing or person on his mind.

Hayley, Rebekah and Freya would all hold the same look, knowing that Klaus was in over his head. Elijah would shake his head every time at their childish giggles and tell them to leave Niklaus alone, not that Klaus seemed the slightest bit aware. He was sure that he was very discreet about his visits.

But they all would get nosey each time he came down the stairs, skip in his usually dull step, a smile on his usually grumpy face. The girls would start to whisper and even Marcel would crack a joke every now and then. Klaus however, remained oblivious.

He hung around Y/N like a love-stuck puppy, bringing flowers and sketches for her to enjoy. But one day when he walked in, the little bell didn't ring.

A frown settled upon his face as he noticed the item on the ground. "Y/N?" He called, picking up the bell and walking further in. He heard a crash from out back and immediately pushed past the gate. Y/N was yelling incoherently, crying and backing away from a very rageful man.

A switch flicked in Klaus's mind.

Y/N sat in the corner of the room, face in her knees and hands over her ears whilst Klaus mercilessly beat the man until he couldn't blubber a word. The guy was dragged out into the alley round the back of the building, propped up by the bin and told that should he try to move, Klaus would pick him apart limb by limb.

Klaus went back to Y/N, his hands bloody so he wiped them on his shirt before taking her face into his hold only to see light bruising starting to form across the top of her cheek. His arms moved to pick her up, carrying her upstairs.

"I need you to invite me in, love." He told her, ignoring her confusion and making her say the words that allowed him inside. Once she was sat down on her sofa, blanket draped over her shoulders and an ice pack in hr hand, she started to calm down.

Her gaze stayed on Klaus as he cleaned his surprisingly unbruised hands in the kitchen sink. His henley was stained, finger smears of blood that made her feel sick.

"Who was that man?" Klaus demanded, voice much colder than she had ever heard it. It frightened her.

"He's my ex-" She told her, voice wobbly as she sniffed.

"I thought he didn't come round here?" He snapped and she flinched.

"He's not meant to...I have a restraining order" She whimpered and Klaus swallowed, trying to push his anger down. It wasn't directed at her, it was at the man bleeding out downstairs.

He wasn't thinking straight, but he knew that he needed to stop yelling. If Y/N had been in a presumably abusive relationship before then witnessing Klaus almost killing a man would not bode well for him. Being too loud, too aggressive in his movements would scare her more.

His hands rubbed down his face, trying to conjure ideas on how to fix everything. Klaus considered compelling her but he was certain that it would come back to bite him in the ass. He didn't want to be a vampire to her, a hybrid. He couldn't heal her, it would complicate things further.

What would a human do? He wondered, glancing over at her tear-stained face as she looked up at him silently begging for help.

"Should I...call the police?" He sort of offered, feeling strangely nervous. He thought maybe it was the right thing to do. He would compel his way out of any charges of course but at least to Y/N he would be a good person doing the right thing.

"No..." Y/N whispered and he was a little surprised when she shook her head. "You'll be in trouble."

"I won't...it'll be ruled as defence of innocent life, I didn't attack him, he attacked you and I stopped him. He's in the wrong." Klaus argued, voice much gentler now.

"You don't know him...he has ties and connections, the police will ruin you, you'll be taken away. He's not gonna come back...you scared him but if you take him to court he'll win. I only got the restraining order because I gave everything for it." She explained. Klaus hated how vulnerable she was because of that man.

"Okay" He murmured, nodding. "We should get you to a doctor though, you're still hurt."

"It's just bruising, nothings broken, I'd know." She uttered, her eyes glancing down momentarily in shame.

Klaus knew that he would have her ex strung up by his own intestines. Tearing him apart from the inside out and watching the fear and horror leave his face when death took his filthy soul.

Cautiously, he sat down beside her and helped her over to him to hold her in a comforting hug. Her tears began quiet before they developed into broken sobs that she must’ve been holding in for so long. Klaus understood now why she wasn't ready for him but he made her a promise that he would wait and he would continue to uphold that by being there for her so that she may heal.

Later that day once Y/N had cried herself to sleep, Klaus went out back to move her ex-boyfriend. He put him down in the dungeons of the abattoir before returning to the shop and cleaning everything up. Putting every last piece of paper back on their shelf, he picked up the torn bags that Y/N had made and put them in the bin before spending his night making a hundred more to replace them.

The next day Y/N didn't come downstairs, he could hear her lead in bed, sniffling away to herself. He didn't want to make her come down so he ran the shop for her, serving customers and packaging things the way he had seen her do and restocking shelves at the end of the day so that everything was perfect like she had it. He locked the front up for her and went upstairs, going through her cupboards to cook her something for dinner.

Her tired little self had shuffled into the room once the inviting smell travelled through her door and enticed her presence.

Klaus brought her the plate of food to the little kitchen island and helped her onto the chair. "It wasn't too busy today but it wasn't too quiet either." He told her whilst getting her some water.

"You worked for me?" She whispered and he nodded.

"Course I did, I'm not the only artist who relies on your shop." He told her, a playful element to his words to make her smile.

"Thank you" She whispered earnestly. "For today and yesterday."

"We don't need to remember yesterday." He murmured, shaking his head.

"You didn't do anything wrong... you saved me."

"Right place, right time." He argued and she scoffed softly but he wouldn't let her contradict him.

Eventually they just agreed to disagree and they tidied everything up before Klaus went home.

He got in and went straight to Hope's room, apologising for being gone so long and promising to take her out for the whole day tomorrow.

They went for ice cream, to the park, for afternoon tea and to a soft-play. All women loved seeing a dedicated father, especially an attractive one. However no matter how many mothers hit on him or how many by passers would flirt, Klaus wouldn't bat an eye. Y/N was at the centre of his mind all of the time when it came to women. He barely noticed the amount of eyes on him, the attention he usually craved.

Now the only eyes he needed on him were hers.

Weeks passed by of him continuing his routine of dropping by. Her ex-boyfriend was long gone and very mutilated. He fell harder and harder for her, he could've stared at her for lifetimes. Sometimes he would linger around the shop until she gave in and asked if he wanted to use her art studio upstairs, it was smaller than his at home but felt much more intimate. It was as though he could see her every feeling sprawled out across the walls, the floor, everything everywhere. He ended up with his own rack on canvases in her studio which he would add to as often as she let him.

He waited a fair amount of time before he got to take her out. She met him outside of her shop, dressed as gorgeous as ever when he pulled up beside her in his car. He got out to open the passenger door for her, making sure she knew how much she brightened his evening.

Y/N was a little quiet on the drive there, her walls were up when it came to dating and he knew that and made sure not to push his limits.

Dinner was as sweet as expected, he behaved as the perfect gentleman to charm her and treat her correctly. There was never a moment of doubt or a second she felt even the slightest bit uncomfortable. Everything seemed to flow perfectly.

At the end he brought her home and made sure she got in okay. There were no kisses but he had expected that and didn't mind. Klaus was too overjoyed that he had finally gotten to take her out to be stressed over a kiss.

Oh but once he got that first kiss, he never wanted a day without one.

Klaus wasn't a touchy person usually. However whenever given the opportunity to have hand on his girl? Whether it be the small of her back, her hip, her waist, her hand, her knee? It didn't matter where, so long as she was happy and comfortable.

Once the relationship started rolling, it seemed to have a smooth journey. Klaus had practically moved into her apartment.

He was always curled up around her on the sofa, tickling her sides and nuzzling her hair while she tried to finish a drawing off. Often they would both be in her little studio, getting paint everywhere as they tried to create a joint painting. Klaus would always be there for at least one out of the three meals.

After a couple months of dates and kisses, he told her something really important; that he was a father.

Y/N had been shocked and a little upset that he hadn't told her sooner but eventually she understood why he didn't want to broadcast it.

"It's nothing to do with you, my love. I wouldn't have told any woman until I..." He paused, he wasn't sure this was the right time to say he loved her. "Until I really care about them, If I had told you then I would have introduced you and I couldn't do that unless I was sure...everything's much more complicated when a child's involved." Klaus explained.

"I get it Nik, I do. I just- I need some time to digest it, okay?" She sighed and he felt his heart sink as he nodded, kissed her head and headed home.

He loved Y/N and it would break his heart but if she couldn't be apart of Hope's life ever then she couldn't be apart of his, not truly.

A few days went by, he gave her some space and didn't come by the shop, before he received a message from her asking if he would come over. Klaus knew he would never let her go after that. He let her meet Hope only a week later, watched as she pushed his daughter on the swings and went down the slide with her on her lap. Hope was still young, only just getting ready to start school so she latched onto Y/N easily.

Everything moulded together so beautifully. To him, they were the little family he had secretly craved. A family where hatred was non-existent. Love was truly boundless and honest.

Arguments were rare and were over surprisingly fast. Klaus was used to endless grudges and growing hatreds against everyone but not her and Hope. There wasn't a bad thing to say about either of them.

But it was getting difficult for a few reasons.

The main one being that he was keeping a lot of secrets. She didn't even know his name. To her he was Nik Michaels. Not Niklaus Mikaelson. He was human, an artist who was doing really well and had lots of foreign buyers. She knew he had a big family, he had mentioned some names and stories here and there but it was strongly implied that they didn't speak anymore. Y/N wouldn't have ever guessed that he was living with them. She didn't know where he lived, just assumed he hadn't ever taken her before because she'd never asked and because of Hope.

Another growing issue for Klaus was his need for further intimacy. He had so much understanding for how she felt and how she had been treated in the past, he wouldn't voice his desires but they were slowly driving him crazy.

The amount of masterbation he had engaged in since he met her was making his balls hurt. As a man who had never really had such tight loyalty to a woman or had to wait so long for any sort of sexual contact, the past months drove his body crazy. Especially with how perfect she was.

Sometimes when they'd snuggle up he'd feel himself get all hard again, he'd ignore it for as long as possible before it became painful. It was unclear as to whether Y/N was unaware or choosing to ignore what was happening when he would disappear to another room to try to ease the tension.

There had been a lot of times that he had smelt her lovely arousal, often when making out or lead in bed but she never addressed it either so he knew she wasn't ready.

Klaus knew she wasn't ready to have sex but he wondered if she was ready for anything else.

So when she was laid against him on the sofa beneath a blanket with a romantic film playing in front of her, he let his hands slip downwards. He mirrored the actions of the man on the screen, letting his fingers disappear under her waist band and graze over her panties. Y/N's hand held onto his shirt at his shoulder, she was tense but nodded silently. Klaus's fingers pet her clit through the cotton barrier, varying his pressure and direction. A series of little mewls and gasps left her soft lips whilst her head went down, her face pressing into his shoulder as her hips rolled against his hand and wrist. "You feel so lovely." He whispered as he pulled her underwear aside and coated his fingers in her wetness.

Y/N held onto him so tightly, her breathing messy and unpredictable as she whimpered. "Please Nik, please keep going."

Klaus groaned at the sound of her begging and eagerly obliged. He leant down to kiss her forehead softly to keep her comforted as he circled his fingers over her sweet little jewel. He was slightly hesitant to let his middle finger sink into her but after another minute of her delicate little moans he let her tight heat encase his skin.

The sound she produced was pornographic and her hips thrust forward with desperation. Klaus felt her nails break through his shirt and dig into his skin making hiss in a pained delight and pump a second finger within her velvet walls.

"Nik!" She cried beautifully and he leaned down to kiss below her ear before nipping her earlobe. Her moans fuelled his wrist to move faster, push deeper. The slippery swollen clit beneath the pad of his thumb felt as though it was buzzing as her face pushed right into his neck, a muffled call leaving her as she came undone.

Klaus eased his fingers out of her gently and gradually slowed the stroke of his thumb before pulling his hand out from under the covers and sucking her taste from them. His eyes rolled back and his tongue licked over his bottom lip to catch the drip.

He looked down to look at Y/N as her chest rose and fell dramatically with each breath and her hair stuck to the back of her neck making him push the blanket down a bit to help her cool.

Klaus kissed her cheek before turning her head with his hand to feel those lips he loved so dearly against his own. He loved how she panted into their kiss, stealing all the air from his lungs and letting him be blessed with another soft little moan he had dreamt of for months.

He pulled away slowly and kissed her lips a few more times, looking down at her eyes through his own and enjoying her disheveled state.

"I love you." Klaus whispered, his eyes darting between hers to gage her reaction.

"I love you too." She replied without missing a beat making him release a breath and kissing her again for a little longer to really saver that feeling.

From that day Klaus almost lived in her little apartment. He restocked shelves in the evening, helped her cook, helped clean and then snuggled until bed. Hope had been coming round a few days in the week, not sleeping over because he didn't want to raise alarm bells with his family and also because there wasn't room but she came over to play after the store closed and on Mondays when it was closed they would often drive out of town to go to softplays and parks.

A couple times Hope had accidentally called Y/N 'Mommy'. Every time Hope would either feel really bad and cry or wouldn't notice at all, no in between. Klaus would calm her down and tell her that Y/N didn't mind and that they knew she didn't mean it to upset her real mommy. Y/N would just soften even more. Being a parent was something she did want one day and knowing that to Hope she was good enough to be called her mommy gave her such joy and love for the sweet child.

Klaus and Y/N never mentioned having children. It was a little difficult with them living separately and her working nearly everyday so it wasn't brought up. They didn't think nor worry about that.

Well...not until she wound up pregnant.

Klaus had just unlocked the door to come inside, bouquet of flowers in his hand and smile on his face before he heard her soft sniffles from the bathroom. His face dropped and he quickly shoved the door open.

His brows furrowed before his eyes widened as he looked around. At least five pregnancy tests were littered on the floor around her as she curled into herself and cried.

Slowly he picked one up and read that magic little word. Klaus swallowed thickly and knelt down to wrap his arms around Y/N's frame.

"It's alright, love." He whispered to her. His hands rubbed her back and sides gently whilst he focused his hearing on her body, listening for that faint little beat of their baby's heart.

Her head shook with a sniff as she leaned against him. "I can't afford a baby...it's too soon. I'm not- I was gonna wait at least a couple years, we haven't been together long enough-"

Klaus tried to shush her gently but her breathing became more and more rapid and her words started to blur together. Klaus could feel the worry building except he was worrying for two now.

"Y/N" He murmured, cupping her teary face in his hands. "We'll figure this out. I'm gonna be here, I can afford this okay? You can't worry about that. Just... just worry about your health and our baby." He trailed as his hand slid down her front to her tummy.

Y/N looked up at him through glassy eyes before glancing at his hand. She was quiet for the longest time, staying on the floor as he cleaned up the tests, throwing all but one out.

He made sure she ate something for dinner before going to bed with her, snuggling close and whispering about how beautiful their little boy or girl would be.

Y/N went back to work the next day, despite Klaus trying to persuade her that he could run the shop whilst she had a few days to herself.

So whilst she ran the art store, he started looking at real-estate nearby. He knew that they would need a house with at least three bedrooms if not four; one for them, one for the baby and one for Hope. If he could get a four bed it could be a playroom and then one day another bedroom. Klaus worried a bit over how his family would be, if they'd let him take Hope. Of course Hayley would have her half the time but he knew Hayley and he knew she wouldn't want split custody. But he couldn't leave Y/N and their child so he'd have to get it to work.

In the early months of Y/N's pregnancy everything was normal. Klaus kept up his visits, took her to doctors appointments and hid little sonograms in his room at home.

Though they didn't stay there long before he found a house.

It was perfect.

Five bedrooms, two of which were en suites with showers. A separate bathroom upstairs with both bath and shower and then a smaller one downstairs. The kitchen was spacious and had a lot of potential which Klaus immediately took advantage of and had people in and out all of the time to fit the marble countertops. Then he had an island fitted for the mental image of his cute little family having breakfast still dressed in their pyjamas and slippers. He still had a dining table for their evening meals and for when Hope got older and wanted to invite friends over or anything. He also furnished the living-room to be comfy and inviting with a beautiful fireplace and everything.

Klaus had lived in many houses, mansions, apartments but they were never a home. They were soulless, empty buildings that he just floated around so this time he wanted to make it homey and special. Warm, comfortable and full of life.

Once Y/N was six, almost seven months pregnant, Klaus told he had a surprise for her that required her to be blindfolded. She had yawned and told him that she was too tired which made him chuckle before leading her into the car.

When he took the cloth away from her eyes she was faced with such a stereotypical sight; that big white picket fenced house with a lovely lawn covered in flowers and berry plants.

Klaus wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting both hands on her now prominent baby-bump whilst placing a kiss to her temple.

"I know you were worried about raising our little one in your flat...The house is all ready for us, I'll keep your apartment above the shop so that you still have it and I’ll run the art store whilst you’re on maternity- We can have your things moved here- though I did buy some new-" He kept rambling but Y/N spun round and pushed her lips to his to shut him up.

She pulled away after a moment and rest her head in the crook of her neck, Klaus nuzzled into her hair before he realised she was sniffling back tears.

"What's wrong, my love?" He whispered and she wiped her eyes.

"Nothing...it's just perfect...you're perfect." She whimpered and he smiled, holding her tight. He chuckled softly, her pregnancy hormones had made her so teary over the smallest things but he didn't mind.

"You want to go see inside?" He asked her and she nodded vigorously, holding onto his hand as he lead her to the doorway.

He showed her the downstairs before taking her to their bedroom. On the bedside table was a framed sonogram and a framed positive pregnancy test. Y/N was a sniffling mess in seconds and Klaus was kissing all over her face to try calm those cries away. She was a mess when he brought her to the nursery, it wasn't decorated yet, only a simple crib in the room.

"I couldn't design this room without you." He whispered, stroking her bump as he did so.

That night Y/N and Klaus cooked for the first time in their new house, snuggled by their never before used fireplace and then went up to their new bed.

Klaus helped her our of her maternity clothes, shushing her when she told him she was gross like this. "You're gorgeous like this, I love that you're pregnant with our baby." He told her as he unclipped her bra making her whimper.

"I just want it out of me now." She sniffed, trying to cover her body with her arms and hands but he wouldn't let her.

"I love your body, it's always beautiful." He promised while pushing her to lay down on her back. Klaus wiped away the little tears that gathered in the corners of her eyes and kissed her sweet lips. His hands slid up to gently cup her swollen breasts, caressing them softly and kissing her jaw.

"We can't have sex like this...I look like-"

"You look like an angel." He cut her off, refusing to hear her talk bad about herself. He trailed his lips down her neck to her chest before sucking little red marks into her breasts. Klaus listened to her whimper, glancing up to check she wasn't hurting from how sore she was becoming lately. He smiled when he saw the look of pleasure in her eyes and slipped his hand down between her thighs where it belonged.

He stroked her pussy gently, feeling how wet she was without him having to do anything. Klaus knew Y/N needed him, his body, much more then she would ask for because she had become so self-conscious since getting a little bigger. Klaus found it silly that she could think being full of his child would make her less attractive, if anything it made her ten times sexier. Of course he knew that sometimes she was too tired but there were many occasions when she needed him and he knew it but wouldn't want him to touch her.

Tonight he felt the strong need to satisfy his love. So he circled her clit rhythmically whilst getting his pants off as swiftly as possible.

Y/N had no time to protest before his cock was burying inside her. She whimpered loudly and rolled her head to the side. "Nik..." She moaned and he groaned, leaning down to kiss her cheek round to her lips.

Y/N was desperate for the feel of his mouth on hers, the thrust of his cock between her walls and the grip of his hands on her hips but she couldn't help but worry about how she looked and she only knew she was going to get bigger in the remaining three months. Her eyes glanced down at her belly and the was he tried his best not to touch it as his hips rocked up against hers. Their lips parted and he cupped the side of her face.

"I'm just making sure I don't hurt the baby is all." He whispered, noticing her sad stare. "Don't think I don't want to touch you all over." He purred into her ear before sucking her earlobe between his teeth. "Once our little one is born and you're all rested I'll make sure you remember how good it feels when I get rough, hm?" He murmured whilst kissing the side of her face.

Y/N nodded stiffly and pushed her face into the crook of his neck, just focusing on the heat of his skin on hers and the electricity running in their veins.

Klaus kept his body moving, bucking his hips just right to make her moan into his skin. His hand kept playing with her swollen clit, teasing her closer and closer.

He grew more needy for her cunt to clamp down as he felt himself leak a few drops inside her. Klaus was grateful that she couldn't see his face when his eyes went gold and his fangs elongated, threatening her flavoursome flesh. Y/N could feel his breathing against her shoulder as his fingers dug into her sides.

"That's it, love-" He gasped, thrusting faster before slowing and giving a few slow, calculated plunges of his cock before feeling her sweet pussy squeeze tighten and gush around him. Klaus released a fast breath, urging his hybrid features to go away when he felt her shift beneath him, whispering if he was okay. He forced the fangs back in, the gold away and the veins to fade beneath his eyes as he felt her insecurities start to bubble.

Klaus pushed up on his arms, leaning down to kiss her deeply. His hands caressed up and down her body, making sure not to leave an inch of her untouched before he pulled himself out of her and slid his hands under her.

"Oh god- Nik don’t even try-" She protested but he picked her up with ease, much to her surprise, and carried her to their en suite bathroom.

Y/N went quiet at how easily he seemed to hold her as he ran a bath. Then lowered her into the warm water and continued to clean the sweat from her body and lean down to leave a display of kisses on her already marked up skin.

She couldn't help but just gaze at him as he let her relax amongst the bubbles and washed himself in the glass shower. The hybrid smirked to himself as he felt his love's eyes on him as the water ran down the length of his body. He cast a few looks her way, admiring her shy smile as she sunk into the water though that beautiful bump of hers still peaked up at him.

Once they were both out they laid down in the now clean bed. (Klaus had managed to secretly use his vampire speed to change all the bedding). They curled up together and drifted to a peaceful sleep.

The weeks seemed to go so fast, Klaus kept forgetting to go home to the point where his siblings actually thought something bad had happened.

Which was why when Klaus had gone grocery shopping for the two of them, Y/N was home alone to answer the door to three of his siblings.

Rebekah, Elijah and Freya all held threatening stances as they glared down the door, expecting a witch or a vampire. None of them were expecting nine-month-pregnant, overly emotional and tired young woman to answer the door.

She looked back at them a little confused and frightened when she realised they did not look friendly and she did not recognise them form the little neighbourhood she and Klaus had been getting to know. She shifted on her feet and placed a protective hand on her pregnant tummy.

"Can I help you?" She asked, voice soft and clearly nervous making the three siblings share a few looks. Elijah was about to apologise and claim they had the wrong house but Rebekah got in first.

"Do you know Klaus?" She questioned, tone coming out too harsh making Elijah wince.

"Uhm no...I'm sorry, I don't think anyone called Klaus lives close. Uh... two streets over theres a Clyde?" She tried to be helpful and it was obvious to all three of them that this girl wasn't going to have the answers they were looking for.

"We're very sorry for the intrusion miss." Elijah apologised, silently urging his sisters to leave this woman alone. "I think we got the wrong street, I hope you can forgive us." He told her earnestly and she nodded.

"It's okay...theres a lot of roads its easy to go down the wrong one- oh!" She cut herself off with a cry and they all went tense. Elijah stepped forward offering his arm for her to grab and squeeze painfully and she yelled out in pain.

"Rebekah! Start the car!" He called, wrapping his arm round the woman and helping her out the house. "Freya? Where's the closest hospital?" He questioned whilst squeezing her hand as her breathing started to level out.

"It's okay" Y/N whimpered, not wanting to give birth without Nik.

"Of course it's okay darling. Has your water broke yet?" Elijah asked, guiding her to the car.

"Yeah- It went just before you knocked... I was about to call- Oh god Nik- my phone I can't-" Her breathing picked up again but this time in a panic before another contraction came and she cried out, clutching his hand for dear life.

"It's alright, it's alright. The hospital will have his number, is he your next of kin?" He asked and she nodded, relaxing at the realisation and letting him ease her into the car.

Rebekah drove like a mad women, trying to keep conversation flowing; name, age, family, future plans. Freya was talking through breathing exercises and Elijah kept himself as a human stress ball.

Once they pulled up at the hospital they were all rushing in, yelling that they needed nurses, doctors anything to help this woman.

Surprisingly they all remained in the waiting room for a couple hours after feeling a strange bond with the mother-to-be after finding and helping her.

None of them really linked the fact that her boyfriend’s name being Nik could have been Niklaus, especially with how confused she was when they said Klaus.

So nobody was ready for Klaus to come rushing through the hospital, barging past anything and shoving the door open.

A silence fell over the three for the first time in years as they just stared at the closed door. Nobody moved for ages, even as Klaus dashed in and out of the room for more ice-chips, they just stayed put.

Occasionally one of them would go to the bathroom or to get a sandwich from a vending machine but they didn't even consider leaving the hospital until they heard the cries of a beautiful newborn baby.

Rebekah physically relaxed, collapsing in her seat when she was sure that the baby was okay. Hayley received a vague text that they'd be home sometime in the next couple days before they got back to patiently waiting for Y/N To be well enough.

The next morning the door opened and all three of them got up to their feet at the sight of Klaus with his arms around Y/N and her arms around the sweetest little baby ever.

"Oh. Those are the lovely people I told you about." She told Klaus, looking straight at them making Klaus turn his head.

His face dropped when he saw them and her heart-rate spiked. He tried to shake his head, to get out of this but he was panicking.

Y/N didn't know about the supernaturals. She didn't know about all his siblings. She didn't know he was Klaus. She didn't know anywhere near enough to be dealing with any of it right after giving birth.

"That's...that's very...kind of them." He choked out, trying to get anything out of him.

"We should thank them, they didn't need to stay." She whispered to him and he hesitantly nodded.

"I'll thank them, you get him into the car okay my love? He needs to get away from all these sick people." He told her, kissing her head and then his son's.

"No- Nik, come on lets just go say thank you." She argued, tiredly and made her way over making him hurry after her and keep his hand on her so they couldn't get too close.

He glared them down, daring them to say a word as Y/N thanked them so so much for getting her there safely and talking to her. She showed them the baby and Elijah worried that Klaus might actually snap when Rebekah asked to hold him.

"I think he's a little tired, probably best to get him home. Come on love, we all need rest." He urged and Freya nodded, putting a hand on Rebekah's shoulder.

"He's right, they need to get settled. Maybe one day we'll get to see the little man again." She agreed but the underlying question was there as to whether Klaus was ever planning to come clean about whatever was going on.

He let out a sigh and slipped his hand round to hold his son's tiny hand.

"Perhaps. Now we really need to leave." He was getting frustrated and Y/N was confused.

He lead her away and she looked up at him.

"Nik...is something wrong? Do you know them?" She asked as they got out the door and a frown swirled across his features.

"It's...I'm gonna explain it later okay? I just need you both inside and safe and comfy, I just..." He swallowed down his worry and strapped their little boy into the carseat. "I love you." He told her, standing up straight and cupping her face.

"I love you too...I don't understand what that-"

"It doesn't, I just need you to know how much I adore you." He whispered and she smiled.

"I love you too." She kissed his lips softly. "Nothing's going to change that." She promised and Freya, Elijah and Rebekah listened from round the corner with soft smiles on their faces.

Everything was going to be different when they got home. Klaus was worried. His son had just been born, healthy and perfect. He had planned to bring them home, feed her a lovely dinner and possibly propose to her.

He had chosen the most gorgeous ring. Klaus wanted to be with her forever, especially now that they had a new little angel that they shared. He hadn't ever had such a normal, domesticated relationship.

The house, the kids.

If they got a pet his life would be every movie ever.

But now he had to ruin it all. He had to reveal the worst parts about himself.

How would his darling Y/N react when she found out he was a serial-killing monster who's haunted millions of people for hundreds of years. Or that he daggered his own siblings, tortured innocents and sacrificed teenagers.

Could she forgive that? Should she love him? Would she even want someone like that near such a delicate baby boy?

Klaus stared at himself in the mirror, tucking the ring box back into his hiding place and taking a breath as he tried to ready himself.

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cyberpunkgyu · 1 year ago

Text

Confidence Is Key - P.SH

pairing: quiet sunghoon x quiet fem reader!

genre: romance, fluff

warnings: none!

a/n: i have so many drafts, so here is another one :) i don’t know how to feel about this one though, but hope you guys like it!

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

“i have a girlfriend.” is what came out of sunghoon’s mouth as a girl tried to ask for his number.

the thing is, he didn’t have a girlfriend. he is single by choice, but jay would tease him about it. “you got no game bro.” he would say.

sunghoon is very well known in the university, however, he isn’t much of a talker and likes his alone time. he is known as the “quiet one” out of his friend group, which includes jay, jake, and heeseung. don’t get him wrong, he loves his friends, but he also loves how relaxing it is when he’s by himself.

which is why he is currently about to go in the movie theater, by himself, about to watch oppenheimer. he already got himself a bucket of popcorn with a drink of lemonade, ready for some alone time. however as he walked through the hallway of the cinema, a girl, who seemed around his age, approached him, with her friends watching her from behind.

although he told her about him having a girlfriend (sunghoon’s go to excuse), the girl for some reason still won’t leave him alone. she was fluttering her eyes, obvious that she was checking him out.

coincidentally as he glanced behind him, he saw you walk towards his direction, and it looked like you were alone as well, but you haven’t noticed him yet.

“there she is!” he let out an awkward laugh, gulping at what he was about to do. “ynnie!”

you looked up, not expecting someone to call your name, recognizing sunghoon, who is in one of your classes this semester. and did he just call you, ynnie?

you looked at him confused before glancing back at the girl who had a scowl on her face. “come on, the movie is about to start, wouldn’t want to miss it.” as he got closer to you, he wrapped his hand around your wrist, pulling you in one of the nearest theater rooms, desperate to escape from the girl he encountered.

you followed him without any questions, not having enough time to react due to the sudden interaction. you both sat down in the middle aisle, watching him glance behind him, not even realizing he was still holding onto you.

“finally.” he muttered under his breath, finally being able to relax.

“uh.” you cleared your throat, snapping him out of his head. “shit, i’m sorry.” he finally let go of your wrist, weirdly missing the warmth of his hand.

“sorry about that, i-uh,” he continued, but for some reason unable to form his words. who is he kidding, the person he’s been crushing on is right in front of him!

you shook your head, an indication that it was no big deal. “it’s okay.” you gave him a reassuring smile and was about to glance down at his movie ticket, but he quickly hid it away.

“the movie is about to start.” he quickly said, holding the popcorn on his lap. he didn’t want you to see that he was supposed to be in the other theater room, for oppenheimer. when was he ever going to have the opportunity to be with you? this was his chance.

you looked so pretty. with your pink outfit, for obvious reasons. your hair was tied with a pink ribbon, loving how some of your hair were framing your face. on the other hand, he was wearing a dark outfit, again, because he was going to watch a movie very opposite of barbie.

little did he know, you did saw a glimpse of his ticket, when he was looking away earlier, knowing already. you can’t help but smile to yourself, fiddling with your fingers, feeling a bit shy.

both of you are now immersed in the movie, sunghoon glancing at you every now and then. he loves the reaction you showed as you watched the movie, mumbling softly, your eyebrows doing all sorts of movement, your bottom lip sticking out. you looked so cute that he just wants to squeeze your cheeks! of course he’s not going to do that, not right now at least.

your arm would brush against sunghoon’s every now and then during the movie, both of you blushing like crazy. sunghoon felt his heart beating so fast that it felt like it was going to bust out of his chest!

soon the movie finished, feeling as if time just snapped. why did that felt so quick? he hasn’t even interacted with you like he hoped would happen.

you two walked out of the theater room, surrounded by a crowd, causing the two of you to bump into each other. this made sunghoon wrap his arm across your shoulder, both of you making your way through the crowd, wanting to prevent you from being crushed. it felt natural for him to do that he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

your cheeks felt as if they were on fire. both of you were so close that sunghoon’s sweet scent filled your nose. hopefully he can’t hear how loudly your heart is beating. it felt like it was about to burst! he felt so warm against you, and although it was summer, his warmth made you comfortable.

you both soon found the door outside the cinema, feeling the refreshing cold breeze, in contrast to the warm one earlier before walking in the cinema.

“well, that movie wasn’t so bad.” he said, now facing you, glad that he could still see you a little bit with the horrible lighting from the lamppost.

your eyes sparkled even through the dark night, seeing his cute little fangs as he smiled at you. “yeah, i had a great time with you, even though we didn’t really talk much.” you let out an airy laugh, “maybe we can do that again? and watch the movie you were supposed to watch?”

his eyes widened, lips parting. “huh? how did you know?”

“sorry, i might’ve seen your ticket. you know you didn’t have to stay with me there, sorry if i kept you-” you started, feeling slightly guilty as you thought about it.

“no, no. don’t be sorry. i wanted that. i mean, it was a chance for me to spend time with you.”

your cheeks heated up, feeling absolutely fluttered at the confession. damn, where did he get that confidence. sunghoon actually talking to a girl? jay would be proud.

“well, i’m accepting that offer of yours. you can’t take it back now.” he bit his lip, preventing himself from smiling so widely, waiting for your response.

a smile now painted on your lips, you nodded, “maybe we can go somewhere after too, and get to know each other?”

sunghoon felt his ears turning red, not being able to hide his smile anymore. “i’d love that.” he then pulled his phone out of his pocket before holding it out for you, looking at you admiringly.

you punched in your number, biting your bottom lip as you then typed in your name before handing it back to him.

‘ynnie ♡’

a cute giggle came from sunghoon, his little dimple popping out. you curiously tilted your head as you watched him type something, seeing him glance at you and then back to his phone. he held his phone to show you what he did, and you felt butterflies in your stomach.

‘pretty girl ynnie ♡’

both of you all of the sudden got shy with each other, just smiling to one another. “um, see you soon then? i should probably go now.” you fiddled with your fingers, seeing the bus has arrived at the terminal by the cinema.

he glanced to where you were looking at before nodding, “of course. i’ll walk you there.”

the two of you walked to the terminal, your hand slightly brushing against sunghoon’s. you stopped by the door of the bus and faced the cute boy, who was already looking back at you.

“thank you for tonight.” there was a moment of silence before you suddenly felt a boost of confidence. sunghoon looked so soft and you couldn’t help but kiss his cheek without any warning, feeling him freeze at the sudden contact. his lips parted, his smile widening.

you waved at him before quickly hopping in the bus, making your way to the middle, sitting by the window where you see him step back, watching the door of the bus now closing. the boy typed something on his phone and the next thing you know, you hear your phone buzzing.

unknown number: this is sunghoon :) text me when you get home, yeah? stay safe pretty.

you looked back up and nodded at him through the window, waving once again. he waved back, watching the bus driving off.

oh my god. what just happened? you thought to yourself, now pressing your palms onto your cheeks, feeling how warm it is. looking back down at your phone, you start typing.

reply to pretty boy sunghoon: text me once you get home too! :)

sunghoon skip his way through the parking lot, not caring how some people were looking at him weirdly as he passed by. he is happy. he got to talk to his crush! and now he already has a second date?! he felt like he was dreaming, and he can’t wait to see you again. his pretty girl. well, not yet. but soon.

bonus:

“ah! i don’t know what to wear.” sunghoon groaned, his hands resting on top of his head, pacing back and forth in his room, jay who was leaning against sunghoon’s door watches the boy in distress.

“damn. i’ve never seen him like this. he is truly whipped huh?”

“you know he can hear you right?” heeseung shook his head before going back to his game, being in the living room, which is in front of sunghoon’s room.

“i don’t know, pretty sure all he’s thinking about is yn.” jay purposely says your name clearly and loudly, making sunghoon snap out of his thoughts. “yn? did you say yn?”

“oh my god… he’s gone crazy.”

#sunghoon x reader #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon drabbles #park sunghoon #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios

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midnight-shadow-cafe · 2 months ago

Text

After Hours

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

AU: Mechanic 141x Reader

Warnings: language, mentions of drinking

Authors Note: I hope you enjoy, I love this AU so much-

Word Count: 1.2k

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The hum of engines echoed in the quiet garage, softened by the dim overhead lights as evening bled into night. Most of the team had clocked out, leaving just you and a few of the guys to finish up the last project of the day. Price had stayed, though he lingered more at the edges of the room, keeping a steady, watchful eye as he supervised the night’s work.

Soap was stationed at the paint table, bent over a vibrant paint mix he’d been obsessing over all week. His eyes lit up as he caught you watching, grinning as he lifted a paintbrush with a flourish. “See, it’s all about layers,” he said, his accent thick with his excitement. He dipped his brush, dragging it across the paint in deft strokes. “Depth’s gotta be just right. With the right mix, it catches the light like—dunno—a sunrise on a clear day, yeah?”

“Since when did you get so poetic, Soap?” you teased, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as you watched him. You were still wiping grease off your hands, the stain already becoming a familiar sight from your few weeks here, but somehow you’d come to like it. A reminder of belonging.

“Since I met you,” he said without missing a beat, that grin of his widening just enough to make your cheeks flush.

Before you could even respond, Gaz strolled in, his own work gloves tossed over his shoulder as he settled against the workbench beside you. “Still on about that paint job, eh, Soap?” He shot you a conspiratorial smile. “Trust me, he’s dragged everyone into it—won’t be long before he’s begging you to stay all night mixing colors with him.”

“Oi, don’t you start, Gaz,” Soap protested, a playful scowl forming as he brandished his paintbrush like a weapon. “Art takes patience, you know. Some of us have an eye for beauty.”

“More like an eye for wasting time,” Gaz shot back, shaking his head with a laugh as Soap huffed in mock offense.

Their banter was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Price approached, arms crossed as he surveyed the group with a small smirk. His gruff expression was softened by the amusement in his eyes, but his words were all business. “Alright, enough chit-chat. We’ve got that engine to finish if we want it done by morning.”

That was Price for you—focused and direct, keeping everyone in line. Yet he never pushed too hard, and the respect he commanded made it easy to listen, to want to do your best. He’d taken you under his wing from the start, not coddling you but always offering steady guidance when things got tough. You had only been at *Tactical Motors* a few weeks, but already, he made you feel like part of the team.

“Already on it,” came a low voice from behind you. Ghost stepped forward from the shadows, silent and as intimidating as ever. He handed you a wrench, his gloved fingers brushing against yours for a brief second. His presence settled next to you, steady and unyielding, making you feel like there was nothing that could go wrong while he was around.

“Thanks, Ghost,” you murmured, your gaze meeting his. Though he didn’t say anything, the slight nod he gave you was enough to send a shiver of something warm and reassuring through you.

With Price’s nod, you all moved into the work with ease. Together, the five of you fell into a seamless rhythm. Price guided you through the intricacies of the engine assembly while Ghost tightened each bolt with practiced precision, his quiet demeanor masking an intense focus. Gaz worked diagnostics, occasionally chiming in with quips that kept everyone laughing, while Soap hovered around the edges, finishing up his paint job but constantly stealing glances at you, his smile never fading.

The line between work and something deeper began to blur as the hours slipped by. You noticed the small touches and shared glances—Soap’s shoulder brushing against yours more often than necessary, the way Gaz’s eyes lingered when he handed you a tool. Even Ghost seemed to hover closer, his usual distance replaced by a comforting protectiveness that made you feel secure.

And then there was Price. His eyes softened whenever he caught you laughing with the others, his gaze one of steady approval mixed with something else, something that made your pulse quicken. You’d felt close to him since day one, but tonight, it felt more real than ever.

By midnight, the engine purred to life, humming with perfect precision. You and Price stepped back to admire the work, and Soap threw his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close with a grin.

“Not too shabby for a newbie, eh?” he teased, squeezing your shoulder.

“More than not too shabby,” Gaz chimed in, his voice filled with approval. “That was a masterclass. I’d say you’re officially one of us now.”

Even Ghost seemed pleased, his usual stoic expression softening as he gave a rare nod. You caught a glimpse of pride in his eyes, his silent approval meaning more than you’d ever expected.

Price approached, his gaze steady and intent. “You’ve proven yourself,” he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Welcome to the family, love.”

The word “family” hit you, settling deep in your chest. You’d had jobs before, but nothing like this. Nothing that made you feel this…connected. Standing there in the dim light of the garage, surrounded by Price’s quiet strength, Soap’s playful warmth, Gaz’s easy charm, and Ghost’s silent protectiveness, you felt like you’d found something you didn’t know you were missing.

After a moment, Soap broke the silence with a mischievous grin. “I’d say this calls for a celebration, yeah? My place, a couple rounds on me.”

Price raised an eyebrow, glancing at you with that soft smile again. “What do you say? You up for a night with these idiots?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling the anticipation spark between you all. “Yeah, I think I am.”

A Few Hours Later

The five of you sat on Soap’s back patio, beers in hand as laughter echoed through the night. The camaraderie that had formed in the garage only deepened in the quiet intimacy of the darkened backyard. Soap had a warmth that kept you smiling, and Gaz’s easy charm drew you in, the two of them joking as if they’d known you forever.

Price stayed close, watching over the group with his usual quiet intensity, his gaze occasionally meeting yours in a way that made your heart race. And Ghost, though still silent, seemed more relaxed than you’d ever seen him, his usual guarded demeanor softened in the safe company of his teammates—and you.

The hours slipped by in a haze of laughter and stolen glances. By the time dawn approached, you felt more than a part of the team. You felt the warmth of a family, the thrill of something new and unknown blossoming with each smile, each touch, each whispered word.

And you knew, in the quiet light of the early morning, that whatever this was, you didn’t want it to end.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

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soulofapatrick · 1 month ago

Text

Lessons in Flight - Cassian x female reader

Summary: Cassian teaches you to fly

Words: 4K

Warnings: none really

Y/N’s POV

The wind roars around me, threatening to tear me off the cliff before I even have a chance to embarrass myself. My toes curl in my boots as I glance nervously at the abyss below. Why did I agree to this? Oh, right. Cassian.

He stands a few feet away, the picture of ease and confidence. His massive wings are spread just enough to keep the wind from knocking him over, their black membranes catching the light in a way that’s unfairly mesmerising.

Not that the wings are the only mesmerising thing about him. Cassian is all golden-brown skin and lean, powerful muscle, with black hair that brushes his shoulders in wild, wind-tangled waves. His hazel eyes, sharp and glittering, keep flicking to me, and his rugged, devastatingly handsome face is pulled into the smirk that always sends my heart stumbling over itself.

“Are you planning to sprout wings today, or should I get a chair?” he calls, his deep voice cutting through the wind.

“Should I not be panicking right now?” I snap back, crossing my arms to keep from flailing. “Because I feel like I should absolutely be panicking.”

His grin widens, and I hate how good it looks on him. “No panicking allowed. You’ll give yourself wrinkles.”

“Wrinkles are the least of my concerns, Cassian!”

He strolls closer, every step radiating that stupid, effortless confidence, and stops a breath away. His wings shift slightly, framing him in a way that makes him look impossibly larger. “Hey,” he says softly, leaning down just enough to meet my gaze. “I’m not going to let you fall.”

The sincerity in his tone knocks some of the breath from my lungs, and I scowl to cover it. “You say that, but you also laughed when I tripped on flat ground yesterday.”

“That was funny,” he says, completely unapologetic.

I shove at his chest—not that he budges an inch—and take a step back, glaring up at him. “You’re the worst.”

“And the best teacher you’ve got,” he counters, his smirk returning full force. “Now, focus. The wings are in you—you just have to bring them out.”

“Easy for you to say,” I mutter. “You didn’t have to grow yours in front of an audience.”

Cassian barks a laugh, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Trust me, if I could’ve skipped my adolescent flying attempts, I would have. Ask Rhys or Az—‘crash landing’ was basically my middle name for a decade.”

I glance at him, caught off guard by the admission, and find his hazel eyes sparkling with humour. The warmth in his expression is infectious, and against all odds, I laugh.

“There’s the smile,” he murmurs, his voice dipping just enough to make my cheeks flush.

I groan, scrubbing at my face. “Fine, let’s get this over with.”

“Atta girl.”

I close my eyes and reach for the power thrumming beneath my skin. It feels alive, like a heartbeat, and as I focus, I picture wings—strong, sleek, and powerful.

The change happens faster than I expect. My back burns, like fire racing down my spine, and then—whoosh. Something bursts out behind me, and suddenly, I’m a lot heavier.

“Oh no,” I gasp as the weight of the wings sends me stumbling. My knees buckle, and my feet slip on the edge of the cliff.

“Whoa, whoa!” Cassian’s hands are there in an instant, strong and steady, gripping my waist and pulling me forward before I can tumble into oblivion.

I slam into his chest, and my brain short-circuits.

His body is solid, impossibly warm, and the scent of leather, pine, and something distinctly Cassian wraps around me, making my heart pound. His hands don’t move, firm on my waist, and I can feel the callouses on his fingers through my clothes.

“You alright?” he asks, his voice close and rough.

I look up—and immediately wish I hadn’t. His hazel eyes are inches from mine, bright with concern and amusement, and his stupid, perfect mouth is curved in a small smile.

“I—uh—yeah,” I stammer, trying to ignore the heat crawling up my neck.

His grin deepens, his thumbs brushing against my sides in a way that makes my breath hitch. “Big wings for such a little thing. No wonder you almost toppled over.”

“Shut up,” I mutter, shoving weakly at him.

He doesn’t let go. Of course, he doesn’t. Instead, his wings curl slightly, blocking the wind and cocooning us in a way that feels too intimate.

“You’re doing great,” he says softly, his tone free of teasing for once. “They’re heavy, but you’ll get used to it. You’re stronger than you think.”

The sincerity in his voice makes something warm and stupid bloom in my chest, and I immediately squash it. I step back, forcing some distance between us, and flex my shoulders experimentally. My new wings twitch, the tips dragging against the ground, but they move.

“There you go,” Cassian says, his grin returning. “See? Not so hard.”

“Not hard?” I echo, glaring at him. “I almost died!”

“And I saved you,” he says, winking. “You’re welcome.”

I groan, dragging a hand over my face as he starts laughing. But even as I glare at him, my lips twitch upward. Cassian may be insufferable, but he’s my insufferable—and for now, I think I’ll keep him.

The weight of my wings feels too much to bear. Every muscle in my back trembles under the strain as I try, and fail, to lift them. No matter how hard I focus, how badly I want to prove myself, they remain heavy, limp at my sides like the dead weight of a curse. Cassian’s hands, warm and solid against my hips, ground me, steadying my shaky posture. I can feel the strength in him, the way his hands hold me just tight enough, the heat radiating off him like he’s some kind of furnace. He doesn’t even seem to struggle with his wings, his massive, black ones spread wide like an all-encompassing shield against the world, effortlessly cutting through the wind.

“Focus, sweetheart,” Cassian murmurs, voice low, the smirk pulling at his lips, his hazel eyes twinkling with that teasing glint that never fails to set my pulse racing. “You’ve got this. Just a little higher.”

The gentle teasing, the way his hands linger on my waist, have me stumbling, but I force my shoulders to relax and dig deep for the strength I know is buried inside me. With a mental push, I feel the wings twitch, straining, and then—boom. I manage to lift them halfway. The victory is short-lived.

The weight of them—massive and far heavier than I expected—slams down again. My knees buckle.

Before I can catch myself, before I even have the chance to fall, Cassian’s hands are at my waist, pulling me toward him, yanking me against his body. I almost lose my breath from the force of it, my chest pressing into his hard chest, my forehead colliding with the smooth leather of his shoulder.

The impact knocks the air out of me, but my heart starts hammering in my chest like I’ve just sprinted a mile. I feel like I'm drowning in the warmth of him, his scent wrapping around me—leather, wood, and that intoxicating smell that’s just him.

His hands stay firmly on my hips, strong, steady, as he mutters, “Careful there, sweetheart. You’re going to make me drop you if you keep stumbling like that.”

I groan, my face pressed against the heat of his chest, unable to hide how flustered I feel, how the proximity to him makes my skin burn. “I’m not the one dropping anyone,” I mutter, my voice muffled against the solid wall of his body.

He chuckles, and I can practically feel the smile on his lips, that devilish grin of his that never fails to make my insides flip. “Liar.”

I pull back slightly, enough to glare up at him, my face still flushed. His hazel eyes gleam down at me, the playful spark in them never once dimming, and I feel like I’m being swept up in his gaze. “You’re impossible,” I mumble.

“Impossible?” His lips twitch. “More like irresistible.”

I scowl at him, but before I can come up with a decent retort, his hands slide down my back, tracing a path along the edges of my wings. I freeze. The contact is light, but it's like fire—his fingers grazing the leather of my armour just above where my wings meet my back. The spot is sensitive, like he’s touching a nerve directly.

A breath catches in my throat. Gods. The way his fingers linger, caressing so delicately that it’s almost torturous, sends a pulse of warmth straight to my core. The soft pressure of his hand against the base of my wings has my pulse spiking.

I can’t help it. I let out a soft, embarrassingly breathy sound, a noise I couldn’t have stopped if I tried.

Cassian’s entire body goes still, as if he’s just felt that reaction, and I hear the smallest, most dangerous chuckle rumble from his chest.

“Oh?” His voice drops lower, sliding into something rich and teasing. “Sensitive, are we?”

My face burns hotter than I thought possible. I open my mouth, but no words come out. What was that noise? Why does he have to be so close?

His fingers stay there, tracing the spot where the wings meet my back, moving deliberately, caressing me in a way that feels too intimate for someone who’s supposed to be teaching me. I try to step back, but my body feels like it’s made of stone.

The heat floods my skin, and I feel my breath become shallow. I know exactly what Azriel meant when he spoke about the wings and their sensitivity, but hearing him say it felt like a joke at the time.

Now? Now, I get it. Azriel wasn’t talking about some innocent touch. He meant this—this electric, nerve-shattering sensation.

Cassian’s fingers linger for a moment longer before he finally pulls away, his lips curling into a mischievous smile. “You know, you make the best sounds when you’re flustered. Just a hint of pleasure mixed with frustration.”

I barely manage to keep my knees from buckling. “You—”

But my words fail me, and I’m left standing there like an idiot, heart racing, face flushed, my wings now feeling like they might break my back in half from the weight and sensitivity.

“You’re not mad at me for that, are you?” Cassian’s voice softens, the teasing edge slipping into something more serious, though still warm. “Because I’m not letting you go until I know you’re alright.”

The softness in his tone makes something inside me tighten, and I find myself leaning into him instinctively, my breath still unsteady. “I’m fine,” I murmur, voice barely above a whisper. “Just... be careful next time.”

His eyes flicker with something darker now, a simmering heat that matches the one flaring inside me. His hands find their way back to my waist, holding me closer than I expect, and I let him, my body melting into his.

“Promise,” he says quietly, his voice full of that strange, unspoken something that makes my heart flutter and my stomach twist. “You’re safe with me.”

But as his fingers graze my back again, a sharp shudder runs through me, and I know that I’m not entirely safe—at least, not when he’s this close, this aware of every inch of me.

The moment Cassian’s fingers brush against the base of my wings again, it feels like everything inside me locks into place. My breath hitches in my throat, my entire body tightening, and I feel like I’m going to melt from the pressure. That spot, the one right where my wings meet my back—it burns with such a raw intensity that I can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but focus on the heat spreading through me.

I try to pull away, but my body doesn’t cooperate. Instead, I find my hands gripping the back of his neck instinctively, my fingers threading through the soft, dark strands of his hair, anchoring myself to him. It’s like I need him to hold me up, to stop me from crumbling under the weight of this overwhelming sensation. His arm is solid beneath my fingers, and I clutch onto it for balance, my pulse hammering through me. I feel the way my body reacts to his proximity, the way every inch of me wants him closer, even as my mind screams to stop.

Cassian is quiet now, his breath shallow against my temple, but I know exactly what he’s doing. His fingers are so damn careful, moving deliberately over that spot again. It’s not an accident; he knows exactly what it’s doing to me.

A shudder wracks through me, and without thinking, I squeeze my thighs together, desperate to keep some semblance of control, to stop myself from doing something stupid.

The air between us thickens, heavy with something undeniable. The teasing, the flirtation—it’s all been leading to this moment. I can feel it. My heart races, but it’s not just from the physical sensations coursing through my veins. It’s the way Cassian’s hands linger, the heat radiating from him, the tension coiling tighter with every passing second.

“Cassian,” I breathe, my voice barely more than a whisper.

His name feels like a prayer on my lips, and he responds by tilting my chin up with the lightest pressure of his fingers, his eyes locked onto mine with that wicked, smouldering gaze that makes my chest tighten. His thumb traces the line of my jaw, slow, deliberate, like he’s savouring the moment.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl, full of heat and something more dangerous. “I think it’s time we stop pretending.”

I’m dizzy from the tension, from the way he’s holding me together with nothing more than his touch. His thumb presses into the soft skin beneath my ear, and I tilt my head slightly, giving him silent permission. And then, before I can even process what’s happening, his lips crash into mine.

The kiss is explosive. There’s nothing gentle about it—no soft buildup, no teasing. It’s hungry, desperate, as if we’ve both been waiting for this moment to snap, and now that it has, nothing in the world is going to stop it.

His hands slide up to my waist, pulling me flush against him. I can feel the muscles of his chest, the heat of his skin through the layers of armour, and it only makes me ache more, ache for something deeper, something more than this teasing, more than this fire burning between us.

My fingers tighten in his hair, tugging him closer, wanting more of him. His mouth moves against mine with an intensity that steals the air from my lungs, and I give into it, give into the way his kiss tastes like a promise and a dare. I can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but respond to him. My body knows what it wants.

Cassian’s hands slip lower, grazing over the curve of my hips, and I gasp into his mouth, feeling the way my wings flare, trembling with need, with desire, with a desperation that matches his. Cassian’s hands slide down to the backs of my thighs, his fingers warm and firm as he lifts me with a fluid, effortless motion. My legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and I gasp at the shift in position, feeling his hard, solid body pressed fully against me. I can’t focus on anything but the heat of him—his chest against mine, his breath fanning across my neck, the way his hands mold my body to his, like I’m the most important thing in the world to him.

His lips leave mine only long enough to kiss a trail along my jaw, each press of his mouth sending a jolt of electricity through me. He moves to my neck, his mouth hot and insistent, as if he’s marking me, claiming me in ways that no one else could ever dare to. His teeth scrape my skin, sending a shiver down my spine.

A deep, breathless gasp leaves my throat as his lips find the sensitive spot just below my ear, sucking hard enough that I know I’ll have a bruise there by morning. The thought does something to me—something primal, something hungry. I know the marks will be impossible to hide, but it doesn’t matter. The way he’s kissing me, the way his hands are holding me so securely, so possessively—it makes me want to lose myself in him, to let go of every last shred of control.

Cassian groans against my skin, and his hands slide up under the leather of my jacket, his fingertips grazing the bare skin of my back, sending shudders of pleasure racing through my body. His lips trail lower, sucking and nibbling at my neck, leaving dark, heated marks that make my pulse thunder in my ears. My back hits a tree, and the rough bark bites into my skin, but I don’t care—he’s here, his body pressed so tightly against mine that there’s nowhere for my thoughts to go except him.

“Cassian,” I breathe, my voice shaky and full of want. I tighten my grip on his neck, pulling him closer, needing more, needing to feel the weight of him against me in a way that I can’t deny anymore.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark with desire, his lips swollen from our kiss. He grins, that devilish smirk of his spreading across his face. “Sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low, rough, “I’ve wanted this for so damn long.”

His words send a shockwave through me, and before I can process it, he presses his lips back to mine in a kiss that’s even more desperate, more heated than before. His hands move with purpose now—one sliding up to cup the back of my head, tilting it just enough so he can deepen the kiss. The other moves lower again, running down the length of my spine, his fingers brushing over the sensitive skin just above my waist, making me gasp into his mouth.

I feel like I’m drowning in him—his lips, his hands, his presence. The way his body moves against mine with such raw, unrestrained heat is enough to make my knees weak, to make my body burn in ways I didn’t know were possible. I can’t think, can’t breathe.

The kiss deepens, and I lose myself completely in the sensation of Cassian—his lips, his hands, his heat seeping into every part of me. It’s like there’s nothing else in the world but the two of us, the way our bodies move together in perfect sync, how each touch sends a jolt of pure desire through me. His hands are steady on my body, guiding me with a possessive tenderness that makes my head spin.

But just as the world seems to narrow to only Cassian, I feel it. A soft, almost imperceptible shift deep inside me. Like a pull, like something that’s always been there, quietly waiting for its moment to take shape. The bond. It slides into place like a key turning in a lock, a subtle, undeniable connection that clicks between us.

I can’t explain it—there’s no sudden rush of light, no grand revelation. Just a quiet understanding that settles deep in my chest. It’s like I’ve always known this was coming, like my body has been waiting for this moment, for him. A part of me—the part that’s been holding back, fighting this—finally surrenders.

Cassian feels it too, I’m sure of it. His lips soften on mine, just a fraction, as though he’s caught in the same storm of emotions. Then, just as I’m about to lose myself in the feeling of him, a voice breaks through the haze.

“Really?” Rhys's voice is loud enough to make the trees shudder, his tone dripping with amusement.

Cassian doesn’t break from me, though. His lips stay pressed against mine for a long beat before he pulls away just enough to flash his signature smirk.

“Get over it, Rhys,” Cassian calls over his shoulder, his hand still firmly cupping my waist, holding me flush against the tree like I’m his in ways words can’t even express. He doesn’t even look at Rhys, his attention entirely on me.

I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks at being caught in such a compromising position, and my heart races faster for entirely different reasons now. But even as I try to pull away, Cassian’s grip on me doesn’t loosen, his hand keeping me tethered to him, the strength in his touch unwavering.

Rhys steps into the clearing with his usual cocky grin plastered across his face. He eyes us both, clearly trying to suppress the laughter in his voice. “Didn’t realise you two were so... busy,” he drawls, the teasing edge to his words clear.

Cassian, unbothered, chuckles low in his throat, his hands tightening slightly on my body, but it’s not possessive, it’s playful. “Don’t be such a prude, Rhys.” His voice is laced with sarcasm as he turns his head to smirk back at the High Lord.

And despite the heat between us, the intensity of the moment still hanging in the air, I can’t help but chuckle under my breath, the absurdity of it all hitting me. But the truth is, my pulse is still erratic, my body still humming with Cassian’s touch, with the bond sliding smoothly into place between us, like we’ve both always known it was coming.

Rhys raises an eyebrow, clearly amused, but there’s a hint of concern behind his gaze. “Don’t tell me I’m interrupting something... important.”

I can feel Cassian’s grin widen against my ear, his lips brushing against the side of my neck with a lingering touch. "No, just making sure she doesn't fall off a cliff while I teach her how to fly," he says with that devil-may-care attitude that always makes me weak in the knees. “But feel free to stay and watch.”

Rhys’s smirk falters for a moment, and his eyes narrow. "I'm not watching this." He motions dismissively, but I can see the way he’s fighting to hide his smile. He doesn’t say anything more but gives me a knowing look, a quick glance to Cassian, and then a faint nod.

"Behave yourselves," Rhys finally adds, turning to leave, his boots crunching against the forest floor as he retreats.

Cassian, still grinning like a damn cat that caught the canary, leans in to press his lips against my temple before I can even fully process what just happened. His voice is a low rumble, just for me, as his hands slide a little lower on my waist, pulling me even closer.

“We’ll pick up where we left off when he’s gone,” he whispers against my skin, and even though there’s a teasing quality to his words, there’s an undeniable heat there too. Something that tells me that this—us—is far from over.

ACOTAR Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

TAGS:

@lilah-asteria @maleficmuse @fanficscuziranout @angelbunny222

#bat boys #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #cassian x you #cassian x reader #cassian x y/n #cassian fluff #cassian smut #cassian angst #cassian acotar #acotar cassian #cassian acosf

182 notes · View notes

xtra7s · 11 months ago

Note

LOVE your g!p!renee/regina smut

i can’t stop thinking abt a g!p!renee dom x sub reader where the reader gets high and used by renee w lots of praise & oral fixation ,, i think you would kill it 🫢

𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐖 ─── 𝘙𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘦 𝘙𝘢𝘱𝘱 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Synopsis: Renee gets Y/N high and they have a little fun.

Content: Renee Rapp x gn!reader, Dom!Renee, Sub!reader, Cunnilingus, Oral Fixation, Breeding, Substances, R is high as fuck, Praise

Word Count: 2.7k

a/n: Loved this request, hope i did it justice baby

masterlist

The pulsating beat of the music reverberated through the crowded room as Reneé Rapp and Y/N navigated their way through the lively party. The air was filled with laughter, chatter, and the clinking of glasses, creating an atmosphere of excitement and anticipation.

Reneé, with her infectious energy and captivating presence, led Y/N to a more secluded corner of the room where the bass was a bit less overwhelming. They exchanged playful glances, their connection palpable even in the dim lighting of the party.

"So, what do you think of this place?" Reneé asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Y/N grinned, feeling the warmth of the evening and the buzz of the party. "It's wild. Definitely not what I expected, but I like it."

Reneé smirked, reaching into her clutch and pulling out a small bag. "Speaking of wild, ever tried one of these?" She dangled a brownie edible in front of Y/N.

Y/N's eyes widened with curiosity. "What is it?"

Reneé chuckled, "Just a little something to spice up the night. Trust me, you'll love it."

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then decided to go with the flow. "Alright, let's do it."

Reneé handed her the edible, their fingers brushing against each other. The air was charged with a mix of nerves and excitement as Y/N took bites of the brownie, finishing it off. They continued to enjoy the party, dancing and chatting, the subtle allure of the edible slowly taking effect.

As the night progressed, Y/N felt a pleasant warmth spreading through her body. The room seemed to warp and twist in a delightful haze. Reneé, always the life of the party, leaned in closer, her lips dangerously close to Y/N's ear.

"You feeling alright there?" she teased, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Y/N grinned the edges of her reality softening. "Yeah, I'm feeling… really good."

Reneé chuckled, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on Y/N's arm. "Glad to hear it, babe."

The effects of the edible continued to weave a dreamy haze around Y/N as they found themselves on a cozy couch surrounded by a few other people. The room was filled with laughter and the mellow beats of music, creating a laid-back atmosphere. Reneé, always attuned to the vibe of the moment, produced a rolled blunt from her pocket with a sly grin.

"Care for a little more adventure?" she asked, holding the blunt delicately between her fingers.

Y/N chuckled, feeling the warmth of the edible enhancing the easygoing mood. "Why not? It's that kind of night."

Reneé's smile widened as she sparked the blunt, the flame casting a warm glow on her features. She took a leisurely puff before passing it to Y/N. The fragrant smoke curled into the air as Y/N brought the blunt to their lips, inhaling deeply.

The room seemed to shift and sway with each exhale, the atmosphere becoming even more intoxicating. The group on the couch shared stories, laughter, and the occasional passing of the blunt, creating a sense of camaraderie. Y/N found themselves drawn into the conversation, feeling a deeper connection with Reneé and the others in the circle.

"wanna get out of here?" Renee murmured, her thighs pressed tightly against Y/N's as they sat on the couch, her leaning in to whisper in Y/N's ear.

Y/N nodded, and they navigated through the party, finding a more secluded room. The atmosphere was intimate, and the laughter from the party dulled to a distant hum. Reneé and Y/N shared a comfortable silence, the unspoken tension between them growing more palpable.

Reneé leaned in, her lips brushing against Y/N's earlobe. "You know," she whispered, "I like you. A lot."

Y/N's heart raced, the words sending shivers down her spine. "I like you too, Reneé."

With that admission, the gap between them closed, and their lips met in a heated kiss.

The room spun gently as Y/N found themselves lying on a bed, the effects of the edible and the blunt intensifying the sensation of weightlessness. Reneé, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and desire, hovered above Y/N. The dim glow of the room added to the dreamlike quality of the moment.

Reneé's lips met Y/N's in a slow, languid kiss, the taste of the lingering smoke and the sweetness of the edible blending into an intoxicating combination. Y/N's senses were heightened, and every touch, every movement, sent shivers through their body.

Unable to move much, Y/N surrendered to the experience, sinking deeper into the softness of the bed. Reneé's fingers traced patterns on Y/N's skin, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. The world outside the room faded away, leaving only the two of them entangled in a haze of desire and euphoria.

Reneé pulled back, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You doing okay there?"

Y/N managed a lazy smile, their limbs feeling heavy but content. "I feel.. heavy."

Reneé chuckled, her fingers gently playing with Y/N's hair. "Just relax, enjoy the moment."

Y/N's mind swirled with a mix of emotions, the high amplifying the intensity of each touch and caress.

Reneé leaned in once more, her lips brushing against Y/N's ear. "You know, you're even more beautiful when you're like this."

Y/N's cheeks flushed with a combination of warmth and the realization of the genuine connection between them. The world outside the room ceased to exist as Y/N and Reneé lost themselves in the shared bliss of the moment.

The room pulsed with a rhythmic beat that seemed to synchronize with the pounding of Y/N's heart. As Y/N lay on the bed, a euphoric haze enveloping them, Reneé couldn't resist the magnetic pull drawing her towards Y/N's lips. The air was charged with an intoxicating mixture of desire and the lingering effects of the substances they had indulged in.

Reneé's lips grazed Y/N's neck, leaving a trail of delicate kisses that sent shivers down their spine. Y/N's senses were heightened, each touch a symphony of pleasure that echoed through their body. The room seemed to blur at the edges as Reneé's lips found Y/N's, the kiss deepening into a passionate exchange.

Unable to resist the allure of Y/N's skin, Reneé planted soft kisses along their jawline, gradually making her way to the sensitive spot on their neck. Each kiss left a mark, a visible testament to the intensity of the moment. Reneé couldn't help but revel in the intoxicating mixture of the high and the electric connection between them.

Y/N let out a soft sigh, their fingers lightly tracing patterns on Reneé's back. The room spun with a heady combination of desire and bliss. Reneé continued her exploration, leaving a trail of hickeys that marked the passage of their shared ecstasy.

Reneé pulled back, her eyes locking with Y/N's, a fire burning within. "You're driving me crazy," she confessed, her voice husky.

Y/N's lips curved into a hazy smile, their words slurred with the effects of the substances. "Good kind of crazy, I hope."

Reneé chuckled, a playful glint in her eyes. "The best kind." She leaned in once more, their lips meeting in a searing kiss that left no room for anything but the intoxicating connection between them.

Renee's eyes were full of desire as she hovered over Y/N on the bed. Her hand traced down their body, stopping at the waistband of their pants. "You're so beautiful," she murmured, her voice thick with lust. "I've been thinking about this moment for days."

Y/N swallowed hard, heart pounding in anticipation. They trusted Renee implicitly, but this was a new experience for them nonetheless. As they gazed at the ceiling, patterns formed and dissolved in the textured surface, creating a captivating kaleidoscope. The music from the party outside seemed to echo through the walls, each beat resonating with the rhythm of Y/N's heartbeat.

Reneé's voice, soft and melodic, reached Y/N's ears, drawing them into a world of warmth and comfort. Every giggle and whispered word carried a playful echo, and the air seemed to shimmer with a pleasant energy. The mere thought of having Renee's mouth on them sent shivers down their spine.

Renee's fingers deftly unfastened Y/N's pants, sliding them down along with their underwear until they lay exposed before her. She pulled off the rest of Y/N's clothes, and Renee's eyes widened at the sight, her gaze lingering on every inch of flesh revealed. "You're so wet," she whispered, leaning in to lick a slow trail up Y/N's inner thigh.

Y/N gasped, arching into the touch. Her back arched off the mattress, offering herself fully to Renee's expert mouth. Their fingers threaded through Renee's hair, guiding her closer to their core. "Please," they slurred, moving their hands as much as they could to hold Renee's waist.

Renee pushed Y/N's hand off of her, "No touching, love." She spoke with a murmur, leaving hickeys on the inside of Y/N's thighs.

Y/N pleaded, their voice shaky with need. "Please, Renee."

Renee grinned wickedly, licking her lips in anticipation. She positioned herself deeper between Y/N's legs, taking a deep breath before diving in. Her tongue flicked against their clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through Y/N's body. Their hips bucked involuntarily, pushing against her mouth.

Renee didn't hesitate, sucking Y/N's sensitive nub into her mouth and sucking gently. Her tongue darted out, teasing every crevice and fold, sending them into a frenzy of pleasure. "Oh god," Y/N moaned, grabbing onto the sheets for support.

When Y/N closed their eyes, a tapestry of vibrant colors unfolded behind their eyelids, a visual symphony that danced to the rhythm of their thoughts. The boundary between imagination and reality blurred, and Y/N found themselves lost in a dreamscape of swirling emotions and sensations.

Their body trembled under Renee's expert touch, each stroke bringing them closer to the edge. Sweat dripped down their forehead, mingling with the saliva from Renee's lips. Their breaths came in short gasps, each one punctuated by cries of delight.

Renee knew she had to be careful; she wanted this to last as long as possible. But the sight of Y/N's pleasure-drenched face was almost too much to bear. She increased the intensity of her licks, wrapping her hand around their cock and stroking it in tandem with her mouth. The dual stimulation had Y/N writhing beneath her, their moans growing louder with each passing second.

Renee could feel Y/N's orgasm building, just within reach. She wanted to be the one to push them over the edge, to make them scream her name in ecstasy. Her tongue darted out one last time, flicking their clit with lightning-like speed.

Y/N cried out, arching off the bed as her orgasm hit like a freight train. Her pussy clenched around Renee's mouth, milking every last drop of pleasure from her. Renee lapped up every drop, savoring the taste of Y/N's release before reluctantly pulling away.

Renee's eyes locked with Y/N's, her heart pounding with anticipation. She had never been with anyone high before, but this situation excited her. She positioned herself between Y/N's legs, her cock poised at the entrance of their pussy.

"Are you ready?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Y/N nodded, their eyes heavy-lidded from the high. "I'm ready," they slurred, their body trembling with anticipation.

With one powerful thrust, Renee entered Y/N, burying herself to the base. Their eyes widened in surprise, but it was quickly replaced by a look of pure pleasure. "Oh god," Y/N gasped, their voice hoarse with need. Renee started to move, setting a steady rhythm that matched their breathing. Their hips ground together, creating friction that sent sparks flying between them as sweat dripped down their bodies.

Y/N's moans echoed through the room, a mix of pleasure and disbelief at how good it felt. "You feel amazing," Renee panted, her voice thick with desire. "I could fuck you all night."

Y/N blinked, her eyes hazy with lust. "Please, don't stop" she managed to say between breaths.

Y/N moaned, a blissful smile playing on their lips. The room, filled with the scent of lingering smoke and the soft glow of dim lights, became a sanctuary of euphoria.

Renee increased the pace, thrusting harder and faster into Y/N's welcoming core. Their moans filled the room, mixed with the slapping sounds of flesh against flesh. Their breaths came out in ragged gasps, each one punctuated by cries of delight.

She reached down, cupping Y/N's jaw and neck in her hands. "Look at me," she commanded softly. "Look into my eyes while I fuck you."

Y/N complied, their gaze hazily locked with Renee's. The intensity of the connection only heightened their pleasure, making every thrust feel more intense. "fuck you feel so good baby" Renee murmured, lost in the moment.

She didn't break stride, continuing to thrust into Y/N as she spoke again. "You're taking my dick so good" she hummed out.

Y/N moaned loudly, her orgasm exploding like a firework within her as she came again. Her pussy clenched around Renee's cock, milking every inch of her as she came. Renee rode out the waves with her, their lips locked in a fierce kiss that tasted of sweat and desire.

As Y/N's orgasm subsided, Renee followed suit, her own release drawing near. She thrust harder and faster, their bodies slapping together in a rhythm that would never end. "I'm going to cum," she panted, her voice strained with need.

Y/N gripped Renee's hips, urging her onward. "Come for me," she begged, her voice hoarse with desire. "I want to feel it."

Renee shuddered, her orgasm washing over her like a tidal wave. Renee shuddered, her orgasm washing over her like a tidal wave, her body convulsing as she spilled her essence inside Y/N. Their cries mingled together, filling the room with the raw intensity of their passion.

When it was all over, they collapsed onto the bed, panting heavily and clutching each other tight. Their bodies glistened with sweat and cum, a testament to the intensity of their union. Renee leaned in, pressing soft kisses against Y/N's forehead.

The room slowly settled into a serene calm as Y/N and Reneé lay on the bed, their breaths intermingling with the remnants of the euphoria that had enveloped them. The once vibrant colors and swirling patterns now softened, giving way to a tranquil atmosphere.

Y/N's limbs felt like they were made of cotton, a gentle heaviness replacing the weightless sensation that had characterized the peak of their high. As they came down from the intoxicating cloud, the world around them seemed to regain a semblance of clarity.

Reneé, lying beside Y/N, traced lazy patterns on their skin, her fingers creating a soothing rhythm that echoed the soft rise and fall of their breaths. The room was filled with a languid energy, and the air was charged with a quiet intimacy.

Reneé's lips found their way to Y/N's neck, leaving a trail of tender kisses that contrasted with the earlier fervor. Each touch was a gentle reminder of the shared journey they had embarked on throughout the night. Y/N sighed, the sensation of Reneé's lips against their skin sending shivers down their spine.

"I like this," Reneé whispered, her voice a soft murmur against Y/N's neck. "Just lying here, feeling each other's breaths."

Y/N nodded, a contented smile playing on their lips. The residual warmth from the high mixed with the delicate touch of Reneé's kisses created a cocoon of comfort and connection.

As the room bathed in the gentle glow of subdued lights, the two exchanged quiet words, sharing thoughts and emotions in the stillness of the moment. The outside world seemed distant, leaving only the hushed sounds of their breaths and the tender exchange of affections.

Reneé lifted her head to meet Y/N's gaze, her eyes reflecting a shared understanding. "You okay?"

Y/N nodded, a lingering smile on their face. "Yeah, more than okay."

The room held them in a tranquil embrace as they lay there, their breaths gradually syncing in a rhythm of shared calm. In the quiet aftermath of the night, Y/N and Reneé found solace in the simple beauty of being together, their connection deepening with each passing breath.

#renee rapp x reader #lesbian #wlw #renee rapp #lgbtq #regina george x reader #leighton murray #the sex lives of college girls #leighton murray x reader

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deadsetobsessions · 9 months ago

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More triplet tim PLEASEE

Aye, aye!

@batman-soup your idea just gives on giving omg what magic are you cooking in your head bc this prompt literally went absolutely crazy in mine

Commissioner Gordon was a decorated veteran of the GCPD, having lasted in the force longer than most without buckling under the pressure and temptation of being a dirty cop. That means he’s seen some shit, and he’s been in some shit. Even when Batman made his debut, even when he had to cover for Bru- ahem, Batman’s fool ass, James Gordon hadn’t even considered stoping in his effort to better the GCPD.

As he blankly stared at Batman, who looked as tired as Gordon felt, and the- not one, not two, but three- Robins following him, Commissioner Gordon seriously considered going down stairs and handing in his letter of resignation on the spot.

“Batman,” he greeted the Dark Knight, in the tone one might use when saying “Batman, what the fuck?!”

“Commissioner Gordon.” Batman said, sounding like he swallowed gravel and spent his nights crying instead of beating up Gotham’s criminal underbelly. “This is… the Robins. They’ve been… switching out until they were all ready.”

“Hey, Mister Gordon!” One of the Robins chirped. Commissioner Gordon pinched himself. Maybe he got micro-dosed with fear toxin? Commissioner Gordon nodded at the Robin who spoke.

“Commissioner Gordon!” The second one smiled at him.

“Commissioner Gordon.” The third one said, shoulders back.

“Have there always been… three of you?” Gordon asked, perplexed.

“You’ve actually all met us before, but don’t worry about it! Whatcha got for us this time?”

“Robin,” Batman growled.

“Yes?” “Yeah?!” “What.”

Commissioner Gordon chugged his coffee, to avoid laughing at Batman’s exasperated demeanor. Privately, he wished the coffee was a strong, black out worthy drink, and that the Robins gave Batman the stress Gordon experienced at Batman’s antics.

“It is important.”

“Yeah, yeah, we got it, B.” Regular Robin, Gordon deemed, waved him off.

“But we’re currently not taking mental health advice from you, you walking therapist’s wet dream.” Serious Robin scoffed.

“So you can stick your opinion where the sun doesn’t shine!” Chirpy Robin said. Gordon had wanted to name him happy Robin, but he’s not getting the feeling of “happiness” from him.

“I will bench you.”

“Try me,” all of them defiantly said at the same time. Gordon smothered a laugh, but by the glare Batman sent him, he wasn’t too successful at hiding it.

Batman visibly gave up, shoulders slumping. “Commissioner Gordon, what do you have for…us.”

“There’s, heh, Penguin’s expansion.” Gordon looked away from Batman’s baleful look, mustache twitching with suppressed laughter.

“He’s expanding his weapons trading.” Regular Robin said. Serious Robin nodded, leaning back on his heels in thought.

“That’s a sign of an upcoming turf war.”

“Red Hood’s part of it! I saw Penguin’s guys lurking around his safe house!”

“Why do you know where his safe house is, Robin?” Gordon might acknowledge that they’re trained vigilantes, but at the end of the day, Robin is still a child that shouldn’t be near a crime lord, especially a highly dangerous and highly trained one like the Red Hood.

“Prank! Don’t worry about it!”

Gordon side-eyed the Bat. When Batman didn’t move to say anything, he shrugged and let it go. There’s only one person more protective of Robin than the rest of Gotham’s non-criminal city, and that’s Batman. Gordon caught the three of them exchanging glances- a whole conversation he and Batman were not privy to- and suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to go home and never leave his bed again.

“You know where he’s staying, Robin?” Batman asked, when the silence got too long.

“Yep!” They chorused, even the serious one. Batman looked like he wanted to step back but held on like his pride was on the line.

“We can handle Penguin.” The serious one stated.

“You can get the goons, Batman!”

“I’ll rob them blind,” regular Robin grinned.

“Dibs on Penguin!”

“I’ll get the weapons.”

Batman sighed.

“Godspeed, Robins.” Gordon told the youngsters. To Batman, before he left, “Good luck.”

Batman grunted and disappeared. It sounded like a tearful thanks. Commissioner Gordon took a puff of his smoking pipe and decided to end the day today. He did not want to deal with the Robins and whatever terror they were about to unleash on Penguin.

——

“Penguuuuuiiiiiiinnnn, where aaaaare youuuu?!” Lionel sang, whacking a goon across the head with a pipe. “Come ooout!”

Archy, gleefully lugging away bags of tech and guns, jerked his head at the left hallway. He wound around the bodies of the unconscious goons Batman beat up. Lionel grinned at him in thanks and, bouncing along, went to beat up the Penguin.

“Robin, that is evidence.” Batman stopped Archy.

“It’s only evidence if it gets logged. Besides, I’m not going to do anything with them… much.”

Batman scowled, remembering the parenting books he devoured after adopting Jason. Be firm.

“You are not going to give them to Hood to help with his turf war.”

“Give me one good reason why.”

Tim, passing the arguing pair, snorted. “C’mon B, at least Hood’s guys will make sure to not use them to hurt kids. Who knows what the GCPD will do with this many guns.”

“And, not to mention, you let me get shot when we fought Dent.” Archy looked up at Batman balefully, rubbing his side. Batman grimaced… but stood aside.

Archy smirked.

“B, help me out with this,” Tim shouted, patting the top of Penguin’s heavy safe. Batman sighed and took out his laser cutter. Or, as Dick named it, Batlaser.

“Batman is supposed to be a symbol,” Batman rumbled.

“Yeah, of vengeance and justice. I’m getting justice for my stolen bat-tech, Robin L is getting vengeance for that one time Penguin kidnapped him, and Robin A is getting… stuff. Now c’mon, I can’t carry all this gold by myself. I gotta loot the goons too!”

“Do not loot the goons.”

“You’re right. If they had cool stuff, they probably wouldn’t be working for Penguin.” Tim brightened as he shuffled through the Penguin’s hoard of treasures. “Oo! Lookit! Tax evasion!”

“… You memorized his tax returns when Oracle hacked it, didn’t you.”

“Obviously. Keep up, old man.” Archy snarked as he walked back in to grab some more stuff. “Hood’s on the way with Nightwing and I want froyo, so chop chop!”

Batman sighed.

——

Penguin huddled against the crate, heart pumping a rhythm of abject terror.

His night had been going so well! He had drinks in one hand, a beauty in another, and the weapons trading game underneath his feet! The Cobblepots were going to rise once more!

Then, the slide of gravel, here and there.

Fear.

A low chuckle. The Bat?

Fear.

The squeal of a hinge.

Fear.

Bubbly laughter. Oh no. Robin.

Batman and Robin had dropped to the floor of the base, knocking his goons out left and right.

“Ge’ your fat nose outta my business, Bats!” He had went to wave his umbrella to send spikes at the pair, only to be stopped cold.

He turned around slowly and … Robin?

“Wha-?”

“Heya, Penguin! Nice seeing you again!”

“Agh!” Blinding pain erupted on his face, nose leaking blood. Penguin stumbled back as the psychotic Robin laughed.

“There’s two Robin! Run!” His goons shouted. “Boss, run!” Cobblepot stumbled away, mentally noting to give that goon a raise, once he could see more than red tinged blurs.

“Wrong. There’s three.” A cold voice sounded out, followed by the quick sounds of bodies dropping. Oswald Cobblepot ran, because he was not meant to deal with more than one Robin. The world was not meant to have more than one, so it definitely wasn’t ready for three.

The door creaked open. Oswald Cobblepot peeked his head out from behind the crate. He heaved a sigh of relief when he saw an empty doorway. Maybe he forgot to close it when he ran in.

“Heya, Oswald!”

Penguin looked up, eyes darting from the blood stained pipe and straight into the grinning maw of a Robin.

“… Bollocks.”

#batman #tim drake #that one triplet au #Tim Drake is a triplet AU #triplet Tim Drake #Batman is getting guilt tripped #he knows but also he deserves it #i mean come on #Penguin: I have no fear #lionel existing as Robin: ;)))#Penguin: I have one fear #Archy just straight up sedating a bunch of goons with sleep darts #Batman and Robin Tim were the distractions

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httpsdana · 2 months ago

Note

Hii! So I've been stalking your profile for quite a while now🙌🙌 and I wanted to make a request with joao felix (prompts 1, 51, 127 and 147) in which they're best friends but like crushing in each other, until one day he sees her with a guy she got partnered with to make a project and starts being clingy and possessive, thank youuu💕💕

Bestie~João Fèlix

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

1-"is that my t-shirt?"

127-"Am I… your lock screen?” “You…weren’t supposed to see that.”

147-“I’m not jealous. It’s just… you’re mine.”

João and y/n have been best friends for years, but lately, there's been a shift. The familiar comfort they've always shared is starting to feel charged with something more—small glances that linger, touches that seem to spark, and casual teasing that seems to hide something deeper. Neither of them has acknowledged it, though, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

The change becomes especially noticeable when y/n got paired up with a guy from her class for a big project. João tries to play it cool, but he starts showing up at her place more often. Every time he catches her talking about her project partner, she notices his brow twitching, his gaze sharpening.

One afternoon, she was running late for a study session with her partner when Joao knocks at her door. He walks in like he owns the place, wearing a casual smile as he sits down on her couch. y/n throws on a t-shirt she found on her bed,not realizing it was his shirt, before grabbing her bag, not thinking much of it until she notices his eyes following her.

“Is that my t-shirt?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow with a smirk.

“Oh…yeah,” she admitted, tugging at the hem. The shirt is just a little too big, hanging comfortably around her shoulders. “I guess it is.”

“Right,” he murmurs, crossing his arms as his eyes linger on her, something unreadable in his gaze. “Not anymore, though.”

You pause, taken aback by the edge in his voice. He stands up and grabs his keys, muttering that he’ll drive her to meet her partner. As they both head out, he seems quieter, his jaw set in a way that makes her wonder if something’s on his mind.

As her project goes on, Joao’s visits become a routine. He drops by at random times, sitting next to her and her partner with a watchful, almost possessive look. One day, he even brings coffee for her, his hand lingering on hers a second too long as he hands her the cup.

“João,” she says one day, looking at him skeptically as he settles in beside her again, glancing warily at her partner.

“What?” he asks, acting all innocent.

“You’re here a lot lately. Don’t you have practice or something?” she teased, but there’s an underlying curiosity in her voice.

He shrugs, leaning back with a smirk. “Just making sure you don’t get too distracted, you know? Can’t let my best friend forget about me.”

“Forget about you?” she laughed, rolling her eyes. “Impossible.”

He grins, but there’s something softer, almost vulnerable in his gaze. He watches her for a second, as if he wants to say something else, but the words stay unspoken.

A few days later, Joao has an away game and won’t be around, so y/n finally spend the day at the library with her partner. Just as she's finishing up, her phone buzzes. It’s João, calling from God knows where, his name lighting up her screen. She answers the call, already smiling.

“Hey! How’s the game prep going?” she asks, hearing the noise of the locker room in the background.

“It’s… going,” he replies, but there’s something off in his tone, as if he’s distracted.

“whats wrong?." she asks, sensing something wrong

He sighs, and she hears the faint rustling of him moving away from the noise. "you were with your project partner today?” he asks, trying to keep his voice light but failing.

“Yes, João,” she chuckled, amused at his unusual tension. “It’s just a project, you know that.”

“Right,” he mutters, sounding almost annoyed. “Well, don’t get too used to his company, okay?”

y/n laughwd, brushing it off, but it leaves her with a strange feeling. It’s unlike him to sound this possessive, and for the first time, she started wondering if maybe, just maybe, he feels the same way she does.

A few days later, Joao is finally back, and y/n was still working on the project in the library when he texts, asking to hang out. She decides to meet at her place after her session. When she walks in, he’s already lounging on her couch, casually scrolling through his phone.

She kicks off her shoes, plopping down beside him with a grin. “Long time no see, stranger.”

Joao barely glances at her, his eyes glued to his phone.

"I'll get you a cup of water" he mumbled, turning his phone off and dropping it on the couch, getting up to leave to the kitchen.

Just as she's about to say something, she catches a glimpse of his screen lighting up with a notification. But what catches her eye is the lock screen—it’s a picture of her, laughing, eyes sparkling in the sun.

When João comes back with the cup of water, she can't help but ask.

“Am I… your lock screen?” she asked, stunned, trying to process what she just saw.

Joao freezes, quickly flipping his phone, his cheeks burning a deep shade of red. He lets out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “You…weren’t supposed to see that.”

A slow smile spreads across her face as she takes in his reaction. “Is there something you’re not telling me, João?”

He looks away, clearly flustered. “I just… like the picture, okay? It’s a good photo.”

“Uh-huh,” she replies, eyes gleaming. “So… you’re telling me you don’t have a tiny, little crush?”

He sighs, shaking his head, but he’s smiling now, the tension easing. “If I said I did… would that be a bad thing?”

y/n is silent for a moment, her heart racing, before she takes a deep breath. “No… it wouldn’t be bad at all.”

Joao’s gaze softens, and before either of them can say anything else, he leans in, brushing his lips softly against hers. The kiss is hesitant at first, both of them unsure, but it quickly deepens as they lose themselves in the moment, years of unspoken feelings finally surfacing.

When they pull back, they're both smiling, slightly breathless.

“So, about that project partner…” he says, trying to keep his voice light, but there’s a hint of seriousness there.

y/n laughs slightly, rolling her eyes. “Oh, so you are jealous.”

He grins, shrugging. “I’m not jealous. It’s just… you’re mine.”

There’s no teasing in his voice now, just a sincerity that makes her heart skip a beat. y/n leans in, resting her head on his shoulder, fingers intertwining with his.

“Yes, Joao,” she mumbled, smiling up at him. “I’m yours.”

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

Text

Blue Violet

NAVIGATION || NIECE!READER MASTERLIST

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & Niece!Reader (platonic series)

SYNOPSIS: Trust. It was one of the many things that Simon Riley was constantly fighting a war with himself over.

WARNINGS: Angst, talks of death, blood, gore, fires, trust issues, many mentions from Simon's comic backstory, etc.

A/N: You'll need to read this drabble first to understand the plot!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Trust. It was one of the many things that Simon Riley was constantly fighting a war with himself over. Who to give it to—who he could believe wouldn’t put a knife into his gut or a bullet through his skull with little more than words shared.

Washington. Sparks. All that they had done….they’d ruined what little was left of his mind along with Roba’s torture. But Simon had already explained it before.

You can’t break something that was already broken a long time ago.

So, trust.

Trust.

It was easier said than done, but he was working on it. One-Four-One helped somewhat, but perhaps the one person who showed him that he could try to fix his own head was you. Tommy and Beth’s little daughter. Simon’s niece, who was now under his guardianship. You were the only one to survive the brutal murder of his entire family on that cold night, hidden away; a baby asleep without knowing about the blood staining the hardwood of the living room.

How does he explain to you that you were one of the few things keeping him from slipping off that edge? Easy.

He doesn’t.

Simon was never good with words, and soon, the trust of his fellow soldiers was going to be forced to a near breaking point.

“Who’s the guy with the mohawk?”

“Oh, bloody fuckin’ hell.”

You’re talking up a storm to Sergeant MacTavish, asking him what he does, what he specializes in, what he thinks of your Uncle and his horrible jokes—Simon glares at him, looming above your figure like a bear with his arms crossed.

Realistically, it wasn’t Johnny’s fault he was just at the wrong place at the wrong time, but hell if it didn’t make Ghost nervous. No one besides Price knew about you, and for good reason. Simon couldn’t take the thought of you getting dragged into this.

Johnny’s face is tight, eyes darting from you up into Simon’s deep browns every so often as if the Lieutenant was about to snap. Though, you were quick to point it out.

“Simon,” you huff over your shoulder, the man carrying the grocery bags in his arm. “Stop trying to light him on fire.”

“M’not,” his glare doesn’t loosen, and you wonder if he’d even blinked from the moment you had dragged him over to say hello to the Sergeant.

“That’s the same look you give me when I sneak out to the corner store to buy snacks.”

Johnny blinks in confusion, reaching a hand back to itch at his skull while his pack of Irn Bru is still swinging from the other.

Simon grunts. “An’ if you’d stop fuckin’ doing it, I’d stop lookin’ at you like that.”

The Sergeant graciously interrupts.

“Nice seein’ you, Lt.” Cobalt eyes blink as he clears his throat, looking down at you. “And..uh…”

You cheerily give your name, sticking out a hand and adding on easily, “Simon’s niece!”

Trust, Simon reminds himself, jaw clenching from under his balaclava.

Johnny chuckles, lips pulling back in a smile as he gently locks his much larger hand with yours.

“Good to know, Little Lady. Y’can call me Johnny, just like your Uncle, here.” A glance is tossed Simon’s way as you laugh. “You two live around here, then? Haven’t seen you ‘ere before.”

Your eyes spark, excited at the prospect of more friends. “Yea-!”

“Negative.” You blink, confusion poking your chest like a stick. Simon grabs your shoulder and you’re being paraded out of the doors of the Tesco swiftly.

“Simon!” your feet pad, skidding. “What the hell, man?”

The man glares ahead. “What I say about the shitty language?”

You shift out of his grip, flailing an arm with an annoyed huff stuck on your lips.

“You’re embarrassing, you know that? I wanted to talk to someone you work with!” Brown eyes swirl with dull amusement, and you can see his smirk from under his face covering as he continues walking forward down the street. “Why did you do that?”

“We don’t need people knowing where we live, yeah? Bloody give the address away while you’re at it. Only thing worse would be givin’ ��em the keys.” You know there’s some life lesson hidden in this somewhere—some cautionary tale that you have no interest in learning from a ghost.

But Johnny had seemed nice, and it was hard to make friends when you two were always moving. Much less one of the men who worked with your uncle.

“Simon,” you growl and hurry after, Johnny left alone in the building blinking at the doors. The highly confused Sergeant shakes his head and mutters under his breath with a growing headache.

“Imagine that.”

A shocked chuckle spills out, and he slowly heads to the check-out aisle.

When you and your Uncle get back to your flat, you still have layers of steam coming out of your ears, even as you get told to help put the food away. You grasp the bag of crisps and toss them to the counter, Simon sliding you a side glance as he washes his hands.

Flicking off the water droplets, he huffs.

“You’ll break ‘em.” Your lips stay firmly shut until many minutes later.

“Why don’t you trust people?” By now supper had been started, your body standing in the doorway as you had fought on whether to go to your room or stay here and talk. Your own stubborn nature held out; you often thought you got that from Simon if no one else.

The man in question freezes as he is about to open the fridge, eyes staring blankly at the metal ahead of him. He lets you continue as his chest pulls in with a bit of apprehension.

“I…” you stutter for a moment but push through. “I get it, really. I know enough about the whole thing to understand where you’re coming from, okay?” Your mind tells you it’s better to keep the references vague—you love your Uncle dearly, but there are some things that you have to call out when you see them. And you’d been seeing them for years. “But, Simon, I want to be able to talk to people.”

Simon’s fingers twitch over the handle, and his browns shift to stare at you over his shoulder. He blinks.

“You do. A lot.” You look away, expression tight.

“You know what I mean,” your voice grumbles lowly, losing that confidence as you push out. “I’m not them.”

Simon admitted that this wasn’t a new point that had been brought up. He was protective of you and your safety to the utmost degree. You were his family, after all; you were all he had left through this.

The man sighs under his breath.

“I know that, Kid. Never said you were.” He turns and walks over to you, one of his hands moving out to grasp your shoulder and tilt his head your way. Simon waits until you look at him and he speaks through his gravelly accent when you do—a line in your forehead.

“You’re my responsibility. And I—” You frown and turn away. Simon grunts, “Hey, right ‘ere.” Your eyes lock with his. The man raises a brow and his dead gaze glints slightly. “I’ve got a lot o’ shit goin’ on, you know that. Rightly, I shouldn't ‘ave dragged you into any of it.”

You open your mouth to disagree, but you’re leveled with a stare.

“So you let me make the decisions, yeah?”

“You don’t trust your teammates?” You’re going to be the death of him.

“Never bloody said that,” Simon defects, moving back as you glare up at him as he leaves to get more of the ingredients he needs.

“You implied it.”

“I did not—” You glare, unimpressed as you cross your arms over your chest.

“I literally just asked you why you don’t trust people and you gave me a lecture like an old man.”

Narrowed eyes pierce you, and a growl is uttered. “If you don’t fuckin’ join that debate club, it’ll be a cold day in Hell, you hear?”

The sharp smirk that slashes your face makes him hold back his own, a same mirror image that he can’t overlook.

“Callin’ it as I see it, Unc.” The look you’re given has you scurrying away from the kitchen, chuckling under your breath, but the both of you know that this conversation is far from over.

Yet, even after you’re gone, your words leave Simon thinking as he begins cutting vegetables.

He knew he could rely on his fellow soldiers in the field—knew he could tell Price about you when he had been mulling it over years ago. Garrick and MacTavish had both fired bullets for his safety, just as he had for them. Simon knew that meant something, he wasn’t destroyed enough to not realize that.

But the more people that knew about you, the more in danger you became. Leaving you here alone was already stressful, knowing that something might happen made his hair stand on end like a dog with snarling fangs. And Simon could also admit that he was moving the two of you around more than he had to, never giving you more than half a year in one flat before packing it up.

His knife slows, eyes narrow, and he asks himself the question he thought of often.

Is this what Tommy and Beth would have wanted for you?

The question made his sleepless nights more claustrophobic than the coffin he’d been shoved into. Simon was constantly in doubt with himself about anything outside of a battlefield, and he was sure that wasn’t going to change anytime soon.

This would have been so much easier if his mum was here. She’d know what to do. Know what to say.

Simon hums under his breath, eyes far off, and gets back to chopping.

You both eat at the kitchen table, and you instantly bring Johnny up as you take a bite from your fork.

“What’s he like,” Simon’s balaclava is tossed to the side, his scarred face on full display to you. You had stopped being scared of those scars a long time ago, but Simon could still remember the first time he’d shown you them.

Brown eyes look up, the man chewing the last of the food in his mouth.

“Johnny, I mean,” you casually state, but the soldier can see the interest in your eyes. He kept work and home life separate when it came to you. No mention of missions or targets. For you, it left a big black hole in your chest, which was exactly where this was coming from. “He seems nice.”

“Never knows how to keep quiet,” Simon utters, taking a sip from his water glass. “But he’s a good shot.”

You sigh to yourself, putting your chin to your palm as your elbow rests on the wood, fork released with a tiny clink of the plate.

“We should invite them over one time—your team.”

“No.”

“Simon, please—”

“I said no,” Simon’s face was stern, serious. He doesn’t look away as he speaks to you. “We’ve had this conversation.”

Your anger sparks, flaring up at the refusal of something so simple. Why did he seem to think that keeping you hidden was the best thing for you? Did he not realize that if he let the people he trusted know about you, then you’d just be more safe at the end of the day?

Who in their right mind would go against the whole of One-Four-One?

“I want to know who you work with,” you snap, one hand clenching on the table as the other is set down when you move your head.

Simon grunts, continuing to eat as his arms tense. “You will.”

Your head perks. “When?”

“When I’m dead.”

“I’m not joking!” You stand suddenly, eyes glossy and face tight. Simon’s expression changes from mild annoyance to surprise, head moving like a dog to watch silently as you grow more animated.

He forgot sometimes that you were still a teenager.

“I want to know who keeps you safe!” You glare through the sting, emotions finally catching up and tightening around your throat. Did he not see the real purpose behind this? “I never ask what goes on when you leave,” your nose sniffles, and Simon’s eyelids flinch. “I need to know who I have to put my trust in to help you come back. You’re my family, Simon, and every time I try to figure you out it’s like there’s a wall that I have to break through.”

Trust.

Your hands come up to brush along your cheeks as the sound of a moving chair enters your ears, your fingers shake before a firm arm wraps behind your head, pushing you into a large chest.

Simon doesn’t speak as you lightly cry, your emotions that he didn’t even consider existing in this way leaving his heart tight in his ribs. He really wasn’t good at this. Like an awkward statue, he holds you the best he can—eyes staring forward at the far wall.

“Didn’t,” the man starts as you calm down minutes later. He pauses, not knowing what to say. “Didn’t know that was how you felt ‘bout it. You don’t have to worry for me, eh?”

“Shut up,” your nose nuzzles into his shirt, voice muffled as Simon sighs long. “You’d worry about me.”

He can’t argue with that.

“...You know why I can’t let ‘em over.” You shake your head into him.

“You’re making excuses. If you can’t trust them, then who can you?” He’s petting the back of your head, thumb rubbing circles into your scalp as his jaw clenches, crooked nose shifting.

“I do trust them—”

“Then why are you—”

“What I don’t fuckin’ trust is myself.” You stop, blinking quickly as you pull back.

Your hands push away your tear tracks.

“What?”

Simon’s eyes are far away, body tense. “I don’t know if I trust myself to be able to let other people know about another Riley who survived. If somethin’ were to happen to you, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself, Sunshine, you hear?”

You stare, blinking quickly at your uncle and his larger-than-life pedestal that you’d placed him on. Brown eyes flicker to yours, and the man grunts at your red-veined eyes before letting you go.

“I would sooner let the devil drag me down right ‘ere than think o’ that.”

Your mouth opens and closes, struggling to put into words the thoughts inside of your brain. Simon had never been…open with his thoughts about things—he was more of a show-than-tell type of person. Mostly that was due to your age and your separation from all of the more dark aspects of his life. It was good that way, and you’d never complained.

But he was your Uncle—your guardian. In more ways than one, he was the only father figure you’d ever have.

You drag Simon into a hug, squeezing him tightly and wrenching your eyes shut before you can cry again.

“Why couldn’t you have just said you didn’t want the flat dirty,” you wetly laugh, and Simon’s eyes soften down at you, his arms once more curling around you as his lungs push a huff from his nose.

“Still can.”

“Fuck you.”

A squeeze. “Oi.”

“Sorry.” Yet always, you broke the sharp bits of him off one by one. Simon sighs, and in a way, he understands your concerns. They were just like his.

The man gets to thinking about the two Sergeants, not just MacTavish. They had never given him any red flags or internal concerns—in fact, the two men were some of the finest he had ever worked with; they were promising not only in skill but attitude.

To go through what they had and still hold smiles and jokes was a feat not many could achieve.

They were good men.

And in the case of information leaking, he realized with a slow blink that even if that was the case, Simon Riley was officially dead—he had died in a house fire, his dog tags recovered from the body of Kevin Sparks. Of course, only Simon knew that last part. If there was ever something that happened, someone being captured and tortured, there would be no link to you.

To trust was a dangerous thing, and to be worthy of that trust was even more so.

He would do anything to never see you worry.

Simon licks his lips, for once in his life making a decision based on no forethought beyond a few measly moments and the weight of his niece in his arms.

“One time.” You make a noise into his chest in confusion. Simon closes his eyes and grates out, “I’ll have ‘em over one time.”

—

The next day he’s at base, out on the target fields in full gear with Johnny beside him as a spotter. Simon lay on the concrete lookout with the stock of a sniper rifle in his shoulder, the Sergeant kneeling about a foot away.

The Scot speaks unprompted as Simon’s brown eyes blink slowly, gaze steady.

“Jus’ so you know, Lt.,” Johnny’s face is in the corner of his vision, his headgear turned Simon’s way as the man was lining up with the target miles away. “...Your secret’s safe with me.”

Trust was something that Simon Riley fought a war with himself over. It was a mountain of knives and bullets that he knew he would have to climb one bleeding foot at a time. He would do it, of course. Blood had never made him shy away from anything.

“I know.”

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paceprompting · 10 days ago

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finding stars

@steddieholidaydrabbles

Eddie used to stargaze with his mom.

Almost every night on their back porch, counting the stars while they shone in the night sky. Even in winter, she’d bundle them up in blankets with hot chocolate until Eddie fell asleep in her arms.

He was seven the last time they stargazed together.

Then he’d gone to live with Wayne, and the trailer park wasn’t exactly safe or conducive to sitting out for hours at a time looking at the sky.

If he was honest with himself, he never considered passing on the tradition. Besides being extremely gay, he’d decided early on that he was better off like Wayne—staying on the outskirts, not bothering to shove himself in somewhere he didn’t fit anyway.

The first person who’d thrown that plan right out the window was Dustin.

From the second that curly-haired, sarcastic kid had loudly joined Hellfire Club, bringing his gaggle of gremlin friends along with him, Eddie had been sucked into having this makeshift little family. One that he’d been willing to risk his own life for, just for a chance they’d be okay.

And through Dustin, he’d met Steve.

And Steve…had made Eddie want what he’d given up.

First, just a relationship. Something that, if it didn’t work out, he’d look at fondly in his later years as getting to love the golden boy of Hawkins, Indiana. Because it was never a question of whether or not Eddie would love Steve.

And then, lightning struck the same spot twice, and Steve actually loved him back.

They moved in together. Well, them and Robin.

But once she, and then later Steve, both got their degrees and jobs—and Eddie’s band managed to miraculously go gold on an album, they bought a house.

Eddie was doing everything he’d always told himself he would never, ever do.

Even adopting a six-year-old after reaching forty.

Even going out onto the balcony overlooking the backyard of their cozy two-bedroom house in the middle of winter with an armful of blankets and thermoses of hot chocolate.

Steve and “officially their’s” Ethan were waiting for him, wrapped in the two blankets from the hall closet. Apparently, being babysitters to Dustin Henderson had prepared them for the ten-mile-a-minute way that Ethan chattered at Steve.

Wayne called it the universe’s retribution for the graying stress inflicted on him by preteen Eddie.

Eddie hoped it was a good sign that they were helping Ethan. He’d been a conflicting mix of quiet and angry when he and Steve had first started fostering him—just like Eddie when he’d been upended from a shitshow life, but was all he’d ever known, and started living with Wayne.

Then, nearly a month of staying up night’s wondering if the dissonance between them and Ethan meant it wasn’t going to work out, Ethan started talking.

And he hadn’t stopped.

“…then, the dragon opened it’s mouth super, super wide and was going to spray acid all over Topher,” Ethan regaled Steve, arms extended out wide in front of him.

Steve glanced at Eddie, a slight raise in his brow.

Lucas, he mouthed back.

Hellfire Club hadn’t lasted as long as Eddie had once announced it would to an entire cafeteria full of people—but he still hosted a game night every once in a while. Especially now that he had a future DM in the house now to imbue with his wisdom.

And since Steve still refused to play, Ethan took it upon himself to make sure Steve never missed out on the chronicles of their household.

As Ethan went into, quite meticulous, detail of the campaign, Eddie pulled out the knitted blanket from the pile he’d retrieved from their bedroom. His grandmother had made it for him before he was born and it was much too small for either him or Steve.

But it was absolutely perfect for, say, someone about six years old.

Eddie draped the green blanket across the back of Ethan’s shoulders, brushing aside his dark hair to press a kiss to his temple.

Then, he sat on Ethan’s other side and covered all three of them with the rest of the blankets. He grabbed the hot chocolate and began to the hand them out.

“Made with milk for me and Ethan. The correct way.” Eddie shot Steve a pointed look before handed over the blue-plaid thermos. “And made with water for the weirdo sleeping on the couch.”

“Hilarious,” Steve deadpanned.

Ethan missed the back and forth, having forced off the top of his thermos and was downing his hot chocolate straight from the main compartment, both hands holding it up to his mouth.

After a couple gulps, Eddie stepped in, easing the thermos away. “Work up a thirst there, kiddo?” he chuckled.

“I asked him about school, I don’t know how we got here,” Steve said, carefully pouring a cup of his hot chocolate.

“All roads lead to D&D, Stevie,” he said, despite Steve’s huffed breath. “But for now, I will give you a break. Everyone scooch in, gotta stay warm.”

Steve and Eddie turned toward the middle, enveloping the three of them in the warmth of the blankets. Ethan was taking smaller sips of his cocoa, giving zero attention to Steve and Eddie snuggling in.

Nearly a year ago, Ethan wouldn’t let them.

Now he had the unbothered behavior of a kid desensitized to their parent’s affection.

“What are we doing?” he asked, peering into the thermos for more marshmallows.

“We’re going to look at the stars and find the special ones that make pictures in the sky.”

Ethan hummed, and Eddie wasn’t sure he’d paid full attention. That was okay. Eddie’s mom had started him on much earlier, so getting a six-year-old interested was going to be a tad more complex.

“I used to do this with my mom. And she taught me everything I know. So, kiddo,” He laid his hand on the center of Ethan’s back, leaning close to whisper, “I’m going to teach you how to find Cassiopeia.”

And, have a little Prequel fic if you'd like <3

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fic #steddie microfic #steddie fanfic #steddie drabble #married steddie #domestic fluff #steddie dads

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anonymousewrites · 7 months ago

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A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 1) Chapter Nineteen

Kusuo Saiki x Reader

Chapter Nineteen: Toritsuka’s Possessions and Club

Summary: (Y/N) and Saiki get dragged into two of Toritsuka's schemes to try to get girls and decide to take matters into their own hands.

“You should tell him how you feel, Miko,” said a girl to her friend as they walked back.

“No way!”

“You should make a move.”

“He’s popular, you know.”

“Oh, there he is! Good luck.”

(Y/N) turned around to watch. “I wonder who the popular guy is—Oh.”

Hearing their surprise, Saiki turned around. Oh indeed. It was Toritsuka.

“Toritsuka, would you want to go to a movie with me?” said the girl nervously.

“Wow, is he actually getting a girl to go out with him?” said (Y/N). It was a strange development. Usually, girls avoided him after the novelty of meeting a medium wore off.

“Sure, let’s go,” said Toritsuka.

“You said you were going with me, too!” said another girl.

“I’m going with Reita, too!” said a third.

(Y/N) and Saiki exchanged glances. Now this was suspicious.

“Man, this is tough,” laughed Toritsuka. (Y/N) and Saiki had come up to him for an explanation after classes in the courtyard. The ghosts had told Toristuka (Y/N) knew about the whole “psychic powers” thing, so he talked openly in front of them (which was unfortunate, since he could be a real perv). “Being popular is harder than it looks.”

“It doesn’t look like it bothers you too much,” said Saiki.

“Well, in a sense, it is thanks to you, Saiki,” said Toritsuka.

“It is?” said (Y/N), tilting their head.

“Absolutely not.” Saiki didn’t want (Y/N) thinking he was involved with any of Toritsuka’s terrible ideas.

“Remember how I performed at the school festival? It was a huge success,” said Toritsuka.

“What?” said Saiki incredulously.

“I was really bad at first,” admitted Toritsuka. “I even heard a weird sound and had no idea how I made it. But just when I was going to give up, he showed up.”

“Who?” asked (Y/N).

“He was a ghost with a mop-top haircut and glasses,” said Toritsuka. “He was a world-famous legendary musician who died at the young age of forty.”

“You couldn’t possibly mean—”

“That’s right. It was John. It was John Komatsu!” said Toritsuka.

“That’s not who I thought it was,” said (Y/N).

“I let him possess my body, and he overtook the souls of the audience in an instant!” said Toritsuka. “Spirit-summoning is a wonderful ability.”

“Oh, so you’re abusing other people’s talents to try to get with girls,” said (Y/N), unimpressed.

Saiki nodded. “Well-said.”

“No, I’m using my spirit-summoning talent to try to get with girls,” said Toritsuka.

“That’s not better,” said (Y/N).

“Why are you checking another guy out?!” A shout went up through the courtyard as a boy grabbed a girl by the wrist.

“It hurts, let go!” cried the girl.

Toritsuka ran over and separated them. “Don’t lay your hands on a girl!”

“This has nothing to do with you!” growled the original boy.

“How pathetic are you, being so jealous?” said Toritsuka.

“I’m going to kill you!” said the boy, aiming a bunch.

“Uh-oh!” said (Y/N) standing.

Saiki reached out and touched their wrist to stop them. “A ghost is possessing him. He’s fine.”

Toritsuka blocked the attack easily and grinned back at Saiki and (Y/N). “Did you see whose move that was? An action star who passed away at the age of thirty-two.”

“You don’t mean—”

“Yes! It’s Bru Scorpion Jr’s move,” said Toritsuka. “I summoned the legendary kung-fu master.”

“Who are these people?” said (Y/N), and Saiki shrugged.

“Saiki! This ability will make me the most popular man in the world,” declared Toritsuka.

“But it’s not your own personality,” said (Y/N). “Isn’t that a problem?”

“He doesn’t realize that this isn’t going to end well,” said Saiki.

Toristuka happily led thirteen girls towards the movie theater after school, eager to have a successful group date. All of his dreams were coming true. The only thing he needed was for the spirits to stay in line and not keep bothering him to borrow his body.

Behind the group, Saiki and (Y/N) watched them go.

“Is anything going wrong?” asked (Y/N).

“He’s being weird,” said Saiki. “But that’s standard Toritsuka.” He stepped up. “I’m going to make sure he doesn’t try anything.”

(Y/N) smiled. He was going to keep Toritsuka in line, even if he insisted these things had nothing to do with him. “You’re going to stand out in the group of girls.”

Saiki poofed into smoke, and when (Y/N) could see him again, a girl with light pink hair and clear glasses stood in front of them.

“Kusuo?” said (Y/N).

“I go by Kuriko in this form,” said Saiki.

(Y/N) beamed. “Wow, I didn’t know you could do that.”

Saiki nodded. “I prefer being a boy.”

“Well, you look nice as a girl, if that helps,” said (Y/N), rambling with a smile. It was a risk to say something like that with their feelings being what they were and Saiki not seeming to like such emotions, but they’d say it because it was true.

Saiki nodded curtly, a warmth in her chest. “Thank you.”

“I guess we can blend in now,” said (Y/N), taking a step forward. They were ambiguous enough.

Saiki nodded, and they stepped up to the back of the group to keep an eye on Toritsuka.

“Toritsuka, tell us something funny!” said one girl.

“Yes, I’d love to hear a joke,” said a second.

“Something funny?” Toritsuka considered. “Then, I’ll tell you about the erotic movie—” He cut himself off. He couldn’t say something like that. Instead, he let a charismatic CEO and speaker—Montecarlo Sudo—take over his body and begin speaking about different types of phones and ipods he has.

The girls looked unimpressed and bored. Clearly, Sudo hadn’t been the right choice.

“Yare yare. I came out of worry, but I see that wasn’t needed,” said Saiki.

“Looks like he’s just out of his depth. The girls should be fine,” said (Y/N), satisfied.

Saiki paused as she turned away, though, since she could hear Toritsuka’s worried thoughts as he failed to switch back into his own body.

Abruptly, Toritsuka’s body began to sing as Komatsu switched in.

“Uh, Kuriko?” asked (Y/N), confused.

“He can’t get control of his body back,” said Saiki. “He’s super confused.”

“Can you help him out? I know he was being a creep, but he can get his karma in his own body,” said (Y/N).

Saiki nodded and projected her words into (Y/N) and Toritsuka’s minds. “You can’t switch back because that’s not your body anymore.”

Toritsuka’s ghost looked over in alarm at (Y/N) and the girl who must be Saiki in confusion.

“It seems like they have been using your body more than you lately,” said Saiki. “It’s like when your dog gets attached to the person watching them when you travel.”

Toritsuka, of course, freaked out.

“He’s panicking, isn’t he?” said (Y/N).

Saiki nodded.

“Can’t say he doesn’t deserve it,” said (Y/N), shrugging.

Even (Y/N)’s kindness has a limit. “He’s begging me to help him,” said Saiki.

Toritsuka’s body stopped singing and began practicing kung-fu, punching and kicking the air while the girls looked on in shock and disgust. As soon as the body approached them, they made a hasty exit, over the whole thing and any crushes they had on Toritsuka.

“Maybe we shouldn’t let him run around like that,” said (Y/N).

“Yare yare. I guess we should help,” said Saiki, stepping up to Toritsuka’s body.

“How are you going to—”

Saiki kicked Toritsuka’s stomach, and the ghosts were forcibly expelled from his body (and Toritsuka went flying).

“Wow,” said (Y/N). They grinned. “That was a super cool kick!”

Toritsuka trembled as he stood in his own body. He groaned and held his stomach. “Saiki, thank you so much. I learned a lesson, too. I’ll try to do things on my own without depending so much on ghosts.” He paused and looked at Saiki. He coughed. “Hey, uh, Saiki. Are those boobs real?”

“You should go to Heaven, too,” said Saiki, putting her hands on her hips.

“Ew,” said (Y/N), making a face.

Toritsuka pouted as everyone looked at him with grossed-out expressions.

“Are you joining any clubs, Kusuo?” asked (Y/N) as they headed into the lunchroom. The new term had begun, so clubs were advertising for new members once more.

Saiki shook his head. “What about you?”

“I’m a part of the Cooking and Baking Club,” said (Y/N). “But I’ve been doing that for a while.” They smiled. “I’m hoping to be president by senior year.”

“I’m sure you’ll get there,” said Saiki. He had the honor of being (Y/N)’s test subject for new recipes, and they were always delicious.

“Thanks,” said (Y/N), smiling.

“Saiki! (L/N)!” Toritsuka ran up behind them, and Saiki shut the door in his face.

Toritsuka pouted, opened the door, and followed them to their table. “I wanted to talk to you two about something.”

“We’re not joining your club,” said Saiki. He refused to get involved with Toritsuka, and he didn’t want (Y/N) being near his plots for girls either.

“Saiki, do you want to start a club with me?” said Toritsuka, ignoring Saiki.

“Still no,” said Saiki.

“What is it?” asked (Y/N) curiously.

“An excuse to get close to girls,” said Saiki.

“Toristuka…” sighed (Y/N), disappointed. “I thought you just learned a lesson about how wrong that goes for you.”

“You know, I’m not sure what club it’s going to be, yet,” said Toritsuka, ignoring their comments and addressing his club again.

“How about a club of shame?” suggested Saiki.

“Well, I tried to get into other clubs—” all to get closer to girls, of course “—but I was rejected from all of them, so I have no choice but to make my own,” said Toritsuka. He brightened. “I need to build my own harem!”

“You mean club?” said Saiki, nearly rolling his eyes.

“…Toritsuka, just…no,” said (Y/N), shaking their head.

Toristuka stood. “I just got an idea of what club to start!”

“I don’t care,” said Saiki.

“The Occult Club,” said Toritsuka.

Sure enough, by the next day in school, a giant sign for the Occult Club (reading “primarily girls wanted”) was plastered up on the walls, and people were gathered around it curiously).

“They’re taking the bait!” said Toritsuka excitedly.

“Will that poster really work?” said Saiki.

“I mean, a few people like the occult,” said (Y/N), considering.

“Have you heard of misattribution of arousal?” said Toritsuka.

(Y/N) blanched. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s a theory stating that people can mistake fear for attraction,” said Toritsuka.

“He never studies, yet he knows stuff like this.”

“The Occult Club is the perfect way to put this to use!” said Toristuka, proud of himself.

“You put a lot of effort into really strange things,” said (Y/N) brightly.

Toritsuka walked into his clubroom—a regular room darkened with blackout curtains and a lack of turned-on lights. “There may already be new applicants!” He didn’t see anyone and walked farther in. “I guess we need more time.”

“Can Kusuo and I not be a part of this?” said (Y/N).

“There is someone here,” said Saiki.

“I would like to be a part of the Occult Club,” said a girl from the darkness.

Toritsuka looked over eagerly but jumped as she loomed out of the darkness.

“Nice to meet you,” said the girl, hair draped over her face.

Toritsuka screamed. “Saiki, it’s a ghost!”

(Y/N) turned on the lights to reveal a perfectly normal girl who just had a strange hairstyle.

“Calm down, aren’t you used to seeing ghosts?” said Saiki.

“I’m Arisu Makino,” said the girl. “In middle school, I read about three thousand books on black magic and spiritualism. Because the devil summoning requires six people as sacrifices, I have come to join.”

“I’m not going to be a sacrifice, actually,” said (Y/N) jovially. “I’m not a part of this club.”

“You should be a little more concerned about the idea of sacrifices,” said Saiki.

“The people from the Occult Club went that way,” said Toritsuka, pointing out the door and totally lying.

“Oh, really?” said Makino.

“Hey, you’re the club president,” said Saiki, not letting him get away with anything.

The door of the clubroom opened, and Toritsuka grinned at it. “Welcome to the Occult Club.”

“What? Is this it or not?” asked Makino in confusion.

“It is,” said (Y/N), nodding to her.

“The Occult Club?” Kaidou looked in. “My name is Jet Black Wings, an exorcist who just happened to be passing by.”

“Hey, Kaidou!” said (Y/N), waving.

“Oh, Saiki, (L/N), hi,” said Kaidou, noticing them nervously.

“Do you know him?” asked Toritsuka, looking at the two. “Hold on.” He chuckled. “You’re the chihuahua!” He laughed as he remembered Kaidou’s spirit guide.

“Don’t call me that!” cried Kaidou, embarrassed.

“Anyways, guys are not allowed to join the club,” said Toritsuka.

“What?” said Kaidou, confused and disappointed.

The door opened again, and Yumehara stepped in.

“Excuse me, I would like to join the Occult Club,” she said. She pretended to innocently look around before “noticing” Kaidou. “Oh, my! Kaidou, what a coincidence! You surprised me.”

“Aw, that’s kind of cute,” said (Y/N). “She’s trying to understand what he’s interested in.”

Is that what I should be doing more? thought Saiki. He considered for a moment, but all he could think was that he and (Y/N) already did plenty together and hung out regularly. Still, he’d try to pay some more attention to them. Would that show he cared? Saiki didn’t want (Y/N) to think he didn’t value them.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” said Yumehara, smiling at Kaidou.

A cute girl is here! thought Toristuka triumphantly. “Welcome,” he said, winking. “Are you ready to have a dangerous time?”

“Uh…” Yumehara looked unimpressed.

“Hey! So guys can’t join this club?” said Kaidou accusatorily.

“That’s right!” Toritsuka tried to hug Makino and Yumehara, but (Y/N) moved in between him and them. “This is my harem, the Occult Club.”

“It isn’t,” said Saiki.

“Girls have stronger spiritual powers than guys, so you can’t join,” decided Toritsuka.

“What? Kaidou can’t join the club?” said Yumehara. Her gaze darkened. “Sorry. I quit.” She walked up to Kaidou. “Kaidou, why don’t we make our own club?”

“What? Oh, uh, sure, okay,” said Kaidou, nervous about Yumehara walking up to him.

“I want to join, too,” said Makino.

“Wait!” cried Toritsuka as he lost everyone. He bowed to Kaidou. “I’ll allow you to join the club.” But he wasn’t happy having a “rival.”

Kaidou brightened, and Yumehara grinned and blushed excitedly.

“Let’s have fun together, Kaidou!” said Yumehara.

“Toritsuka’s not happy about Kaidou getting the attention,” said (Y/N). They chuckled quietly. “He kind of deserves it.”

Saiki nodded. “He doesn’t stand a chance.” But “misattribution of arousal?” Curious, he decided to try something out. That is interesting.

His psychokinesis hit the lights.

“What happened?!” said Kaidou, looking around.

“A blackout? I’m scared,” cried Yumehara.

(Y/N) jumped at the sudden darkness and reached out to grab Saiki’s sleeve. It was instinctual; they felt safer knowing he was there.

Static blared from the (digital) TVs, and Yumehara jumped towards Kaidou.

“The door won’t open!” cried Toritsuka, trying to pull it open.

“Calm down,” said Makino. “Let’s remain calm and chant a spell.” She put her hands together and began chanting.

“Kusuo, is this just you?” whispered (Y/N).

“Yes,” said Saiki, and he watched as (Y/N) relaxed.

“Oh, good,” they said. They smiled sheepishly and let go of his sleeve. “I guess that was pretty silly of me to get scared while in school.”

“Don’t feel bad. They’re still scared,” said Saiki, watching the group. “I guess that’s enough.” He let the TVs switch off and the lights come on. He looked at the results of his experiment. “Yumehara has a high likability for Kaidou.”

“Were you seriously testing Toritsuka’s ‘misattribution of arousal’ thing?” said (Y/N) incredulously.

Saiki shrugged. “I was curious.”

“…Was he right or being stupid?” said (Y/N), a little bit curious now that the experiment had been conducted.

“He’s always stupid, but…” He looked over at Toritsuka, who was staring at Makino.

My heart is pounding… Toritsuka gazed at Makino, eyes wide and cheeks red. There is no doubt about it! I’m in love with Arisu Makino!

“He fell victim to his own ploy,” said Saiki. “His likability towards Makino rose a lot.”

(Y/N) shook their head and chuckled. “Toritsuka always gets himself into trouble with his own ideas.”

“He does,” agreed Saiki. He glanced at them. I wonder what your likability of me is. For a moment, Saiki legitimately considered checking. And then…he decided not to. If they didn’t like him any more than a friend and the score was low, Saiki would be disappointed. Plus…even a high likability could just be really liking someone as a friend. It wouldn’t clear anything out.

And Saiki didn’t want his heart to be hurt.

Little did he know, (Y/N) harbored the same feelings for him as he did for them. No misattribution of feelings there.

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#a not so disastrous romance #x reader #gn reader #nb reader #x gn reader #x nb reader #the disaster of psi kusuo saiki #saiki kusuo #saiki kusou no psi nan #saiki #kusuo saiki #saiki x reader #kusuo x reader #kusuo saiki x reader #saiki k #saiki no psi nan #saiki kusuo x reader #the disastrous life of saiki k #the disastrous life of saiki k.

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alltheirdamn · 9 months ago

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Dark!Preacher!Joel x f!reader

Summary: You indulge in the voice of the Devil for one fateful night. Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI Caution/TW: DUBIOUS CONSENT Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: NONCON ELEMENTS, no outbreak AU, undisclosed age gap (joel is 56 and reader is in her late 20's), infidelity, religion!kink, degredation!kink, humiliation!kink, praise!kink, choking, slapping, forced oral (m receiving), deepthroating, rough hair pulling, boot licking, light fingering, pain!kink, noncon unprotected piv sex, pet names (little one, good girl), degrading terms (bitch, whore, slut), dirty/filthy language, rough sex, forced orgasm, noncon creampie, no aftercare A/N: this is WAYYY out of my comfort zone to write, but something about the idea of Preacher!Joel just did it for me. I figured I'd test out the waters & see where it gets me... anyway, enjoy and PLEASE READ THE TAGS/WARNINGS

Masterlist

You weren’t oblivious to Preacher Joel's sidelong glances and lingering stares. Every Sunday, you sat in the second row of the church, watching him preach the Lord’s gospel with a baleful smile only meant for you, while your husband, Adam, sat beside you blissfully unaware. So, when you proposed the idea of taking a pie over to his home—alone—Adam didn’t even bat an eye.

“Are you taking over a cherry pie?” Adam had asked from the living room.

You were bent over the oven, pulling the hot pie dish onto a trivet with shaky hands. Sunday service that morning had been your breaking point; the communion dish made its rounds through the pews, and you found Joel’s eyes tracking your mouth as you brought the grape wine to your lips. Your resolve snapped, and the desire to feed into temptation blurred any and all judgment you had since maintained.

“Do you think he’ll like it?” You hollered back at Adam, wrapping the pie in a terrycloth.

“I’m sure he will, honey.”

Untieing the canvas apron from around your waist, you smoothed down your white church dress and shuffled the pie dish into your arms. Crossing into the living room, you kissed the crown of Adam’s head softly before saying goodbye. He didn’t look up once.

The benefit of living in a small town was that all the homes were fairly close together, meaning it was a short walk to the preacher’s home, which resided behind the town’s church. It was far past supper time, and most of the town had tucked into bed by now, leaving you alone with the wind between the trees and a man who could be your undoing. The only sounds echoing around you were your feet crunching along the dirt road and the howls of stray dogs in the distance. Clutching the pie closer to your chest, you continued walking toward his home with the Devil on your shoulder.

Preacher Joel’s home was modest and small; the white paint on the wood structure chipped away from years of weathering. His black pickup truck was parked on the side of the house, the wheels dirty and the paint smeared with mud. The closer you got to his front porch steps, the more rapidly your heart pounded inside your chest. You didn’t know what to expect, but you knew every muscle drawing your body closer to his home was being fueled by the Devil. Under the flickering front porch light, you brushed your knuckles against the door and held your breath.

Heavy footfall sounded on the other side of the door before it opened, revealing the man that plagued every thought in your mind. Joel stood before you with his dress shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, exposing the dark chest hair that spattered across his tan chest. His patchy grey beard was well-trimmed as if he had just refreshed it, and a lascivious grin broke across his face as his eyes raked over you.

“This is a mighty nice surprise,” he whistled.

“I—I wanted to bring over a pie,” you stuttered. “As a thank you.”

“For what?” He quirked a thick eyebrow, his piercing brown eyes staring down at you.

“It was just on my heart to do something nice,” you lied.

Joel reached out for the pie dish, his warm hands brushing over yours as he took it. You weren’t sure what to do with your empty hands, so you found yourself fidgeting with the gold cross dangling around your neck.

“Come in,” he said, sidestepping to welcome you in.

The second your feet walked over the threshold, you knew temptation had sunk its teeth into you.

“This is a lovely home,” you commented, following him to the kitchen.

The living room was surrounded by dark wooden walls, with a beige loveseat in the center and a TV box pressed against the opposite wall. There were remnants of him in every corner of the room: a half-drank glass of whiskey, a newspaper folded on the coffee table, and his black leather Bible resting on the arm of the sofa. The kitchen was just as simple, with a gas stove and small white fridge nestled against wooden cabinetry.

Joel set the pie dish on the granite countertop, turning to the cabinets to retrieve a small plate, a fork, and a knife. You fixated on the way he worked at rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, the veins in his forearms flexing with each fold of the fabric. He let out a small chuckle, forcing your eyes to tear away from his hands and back to his deep brown eyes.

“Y’make this yourself?” He asked, cutting himself a slice.

“I did,” you nodded. “It’s cherry.”

“Mmhm, my favorite,” he hummed.

He dug his fork into the pie, the crust crumbling onto the plate as he lifted it to his mouth. You watched as his mouth wrapped around the utensil, a low groan escaping his throat as he tasted the cherry filling you had made by scratch. Under thick eyebrows, his eyes closed while he savored the taste, and you felt the swell of pride stirring inside you.

“It’s good?” You asked.

“S’delicious,” he mumbled, digging into it for a second bite.

Instead of bringing the next bite to his lips, he offered it to you, urging you to lean over the countertop and meet him halfway. How were you to deny the preacher of something he wanted? Opening your mouth, you welcomed the sweet taste onto your tongue, meeting his eyes as you wrapped your lips around the fork.

“Delicious, ain’t it?”

“Yes,” you whispered as he pulled the fork from your mouth.

Joel’s eyes dilated with a surge of lust. You never saw that look on your husband, but it was unmistakable when you looked into those dark eyes now. A sudden thrum of warmth ran through your body the longer studied you, forcing you to squirm in place. He must have taken notice of it when he decided to round the countertop and swarm you with his broad frame. His finger curled under the chain of your necklace, tugging at it until you lifted your eyes to his.

“You’re a temptation, little one,” he drawled. “Just look at you.”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me during your sermons,” you confessed.

He cocked his head to the side in amusement; his plush lips quirked up in a smile. His finger coiled around the chain tighter, pulling you a step closer. You inhaled the scent of whiskey and smoke that lingered on his shirt as it brushed against your chest. The thin fabric of your dress wasn’t enough to hide the shiver that ran over your spine. Joel tucked a stray hair behind your ear, bending down to brush his lips over the shell of your ear.

“Y’sure you ain’t seein’ the Devil?”

His hand released your necklace, only to wrap around your throat in a tight grasp. You struggled for air under his grip, your nails raking down his bare forearms. There was an uncanny wildness lighting up his eyes as he watched you gasping under the forceful pressure of his fingers.

“Just a naughty thing lookin’ for corruption.”

“Please,” you choked.

“Ain’t this what you wanted, little one? Look at you, just drippin’ in sin,” he whispered.

“I—I can’t breathe,” you thrashed against him, tears pooling in your eyes.

He shoved you backward until you were doubled over and heaving for air. There was a deep laugh swirling through your fogged mind, and you blinked back tears before you attempted to make eye contact again. Something about this felt wrong.

Joel stood with his arms folded over his chest, waiting for you to recompose yourself. You staggered back, your body hitting the wall of the kitchen, and you coughed violently, trying to grasp back onto reality. He curled a finger to beckon you forward, and despite your reluctance, your body moved on its own accord. With a fist full of your hair, he forced you to your knees, making you cry out at the impact of your knees hitting the tile floor.

“I should make you pray for forgiveness before I ruin you,” he growled.

You whimpered, humiliated at the way arousal pooled between your legs with every word he said. Adam never spoke to you in such a vile way; he only ever took you in the marital way, with you on your back and him above you. But something told you that the preacher would be far from that familiarity, and it electrified you. You wanted to know how far you could take it and how rough he could be. If the Devil was beckoning you, who were you to deny him the pleasure?

With defiance in your eyes and a proud grin on your face, you started to mouth a prayer to the Lord, knowing He wouldn’t be listening. Whatever you did in this small home was between you and the preacher.

“Louder,” he ordered.

You repeated the prayer, never breaking eye contact with him as his jaw clenched with each word you spoke. His hand was still twisted into your hair at the roots, holding you firmly in place. Your eyes traveled down his broad torso, settling on the growing bulge beneath his trousers. You wet your lips, imagining what his cock looked like and how it feel inside of you. Joel must have taken notice of your fixation and brought his other hand down to deliver a sharp slap against your cheek. Your head whipped to the side, the sting of his hand lingering on your face as you gathered your bearings.

“Filthy lil thing just beggin’ to be fucked, huh?”

You worked your jaw open and closed, trying to relieve the pain that radiated down your neck.

“Answer me, little one,” he snapped.

“Y–Yes,” you muttered.

Another jarring hit came across your face, your ears ringing from the impact.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered.

Satisfied with your answer, he worked at undoing his belt buckle, tugging his trousers and underwear down his hips. Your mouth went dry at the sight of his cock; the thickness of it was enough to wrack your already shaking nerves. Adam never asked you to pleasure him this way, but your body reacted differently when you were kneeling at the feet of a corrupt preacher.

His fingers wrapped around the shaft of his cock, his hand pumping it slowly as it grazed over your parted lips. You wanted to take the plunge and wrap your lips around it; you wanted to savor every inch of it and watch him fall apart.

“Droolin’ like a bitch in heat, fucking pathetic,” he taunted.

He smacked the weeping head of his cock against your lips, precum smearing across your mouth and chin. You obediently opened your mouth for him, the immediate salty taste falling against your tongue. He gave you a moment to stretch your jaw to adjust to the girth of his cock before rocking deeper into your mouth. The tip of his cock tapped the back of your throat, forcing you to sputter around him. Tears soaked your cheeks as he picked up a steady pace, each thrust reaching your soft palate.

“That’s it, little one,” he groaned. “Takin’ my cock so fuckin’ well. Can’t cry out for God when you're full of me.”

You moaned around him, the vibration sending him into a frenzy as he brutalized your throat. You could only bare your weight against the floor and take every inch he gave, the drool and tears mixing together as they rolled down your chin. Joel’s head tilted back, his eyes fixated on the ceiling as you dragged your tongue along the underside of his cock. Your gag reflex kicked in as he struck the back of your throat before he pulled out and leveled you with a heavy stare.

“Such a good girl,” he praised, tapping your cheek lightly before unwinding his fingers from your scalp.

He gathered the drool dripping from your chin and smeared it over your face, the taste of him invading your nostrils with each swipe of his hand. It was dehumanizing and disgusting…but some fucked up part of you loved it.

“Thank you, sir,” you preened, smiling through the mess he had made of you.

“Don’t go thankin’ me yet, little one. Better clean your drool off my fuckin’ boots.”

Your smile faded as your eyes flicked between him and his shoes, which were visibly covered in a pool of your saliva. You shook your head in protest, but he was quick to shove you down toward the floor. You thrashed against his grip on the back of your neck, your nose brushing against the worn work boots adorning his feet.

“Lick,” he demanded. “Clean your fuckin’ mess.”

You swallowed thickly before you allowed your tongue to dart out and lap up the remnants of your saliva. You held back a retch as your tongue grazed over the leather material, the dryness under your mess painful against your throbbing tongue. You peered up at him in hopes that he was satisfied, but you were only met with a cocked brow and an unamused stare.

“Missed a spot,” he huffed, toeing his boot against your mouth.

You cringed as you continued working your tongue over his other shoe, the taste of it unbearable. He was shamelessly minimizing you down into the worst version of yourself, and there was no one to blame but you and your naivety.

Joel slammed his shoe back against the tile with pursed lips, and he tsked at you.

“Pathetic,” he mumbled. “Bedroom s’down the hall. I want you in there and spread out on my bed.”

You nodded and wiped away the tears bursting from your eyes. A firm hand gripped your shoulder as you tried to rise to your feet, forcing you back down. You gave him a weary look, waiting for his next command. Crouching down to eye level, Joel took your chin into his hand with a forceful grip.

“Crawl,” he ordered. “Go on.”

He straightened to his full height and loomed over you as you planted yourself on all fours. Turning toward the walkway of the kitchen, you started crawling, the heat of his stare on your backside enough to ignite another wave of pleasure inside your stomach. You could feel your dress hiking up over your thighs, putting your cotton underwear on display for him with each progressive move you made. The heat of his stare lingered on you as you scrapped your knees across the carpet, the bedroom door at the end of the hallway calling out to you through the voice of the Devil. He reached over your body to open the door, guiding you into the dark room. There was a wooden wardrobe propped against the wall and a matching side table next to the large bed that sat in the center. Flipping on the overhead light, he pointed to the bed, silently instructing you to climb onto the flannel bedspread.

You laid back on the bed, your white dress pooled around your body as he crawled over you. Caging you between his muscular biceps, he dipped his head into the crook of your neck and dragged his tongue against the pulse throbbing under your skin. The need growing between your legs was becoming too unbearable to handle, but you were afraid to beg him for release. He had made it apparent he controlled every second of this interaction, from how much you breathed to the way you moved.

“Let’s see how soaked these pretty lil panties are,” he whispered, snaking his hand down your abdomen.

Flipping your dress up, his fingers delved under the waistband of your cotton underwear, a hum of approval rumbling his chest as he found your thighs slick with arousal. Thick fingers worked their way through your wet folds, teasing your entrance before he plunged two fingers in without warning. You arched into his touch, the curl of his fingers against the soft spot inside you jolting you upwards.

“Fuck!” You cried, your fingers digging into his arms.

His free hand shot out to cover your mouth as he pressed his forehead to yours, rage simmering in his brown eyes as he stared you down.

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth, little one,” he warned. “I don’t wanna hear a fuckin’ peep, you understand?”

Your response was muffled under his hand, and he shifted his weight so that his fingers dug further inside you. You swallowed back pitiful moans as he worked his fingers in and out of you. A slow-burning sensation rolled through your stomach, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of your climax. You were fluttering around him as it bubbled to the surface, only to be met by the absence of his fingers as he pulled them away at the last second. You wailed in protest, feeling a hollowness inside of you without them there.

Ripping your underwear down your legs, Joel hauled you onto your stomach, positioning your hips upward in the way he desired. You had no choice but to take anything he gave you. The clanking sound of the belt around his pants was the only warning you were granted before wedged between your thinks and sunk into you. Your vision faded out at the blinding pain of him stretching you open, every inch of him tearing you apart beyond compare.

“It’s too much. I—I can’t. It hurts!” you cried.

His only response was to grind his hips harder against yours, the pain radiating up your spine.

“Shut up,” he bit out, pulling out and driving back into you. “You’re gonna take my cock like the filthy lil slut I know you are, and you’re gonna thank me. Understand?”

Your face fell into the pillows as you muffled a scream. His hand wound around your neck, yanking you from the bed and forcing you to bend back and meet his vicious stare. With his teeth barred and cock buried inside you, there was nothing to do but give yourself fully to him.

“Yes, sir!" You wailed. “ Thank you, sir.”

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he crooned.

He set a steady pace, the lewd sound of his hips smacking against yours echoing throughout the room. He was brutalizing you, defiling you, completely ruining you into oblivion. The voice of temptation had led you here, and now you were paying the price for your sins. No amount of prayer or forgiveness could wash you clean.

“Such a perfect and obedient whore,” he grunted with his fingers bruising your hipbones. “You fuckin’ love havin’ this tight cunt wrecked by the preacher—shit—just dyin’ to have my cum inside you.”

The sobs wracked through your body as the need to climax tore you apart. He yanked your hips even higher, pistoning his cock into you at an angle that set your body alight. You had no control over the pleasure burning deep within you, and suddenly you were tensing around his cock with the name of God falling off your lips.

“God can’t save you now, little one. This unholy cunt is mine.”

Fizzles of your ebbing climax simmered through your body, carrying you back down to the present, only to be met by another onslaught of violent thrusts from the man behind you. He was relentless as he took…and took…and took. By the time he was done with you, there would be nothing left.

“Please—stop!” The words left your mouth broken and strained.

You were clawing at the bedsheets, begging for him to release you. He only laughed at each one of your protests, his pace unrelenting and forceful with every drive of his cock inside you. His fingers flexed against your skin, and you felt the shift in his rhythm, alerting you that he was about to climax.

“Don’t—God—please don’t!” You begged.

“Quiet,” he snarled, pulling you by the throat so that you were flush against his chest.

“Please,” you sobbed, barely choking out the word.

“Gonna send you back to your husband with my cum leakin’ out of you,” he snarled.

Before you could even attempt to escape his hold, Joel was slamming into you one final time, a carnal groan deafening your ears as he filled you with his release. He tossed you back onto the bed carelessly, leaving you aching and stretched open on the ruined sheets. You lay there motionless, staring at the chipping paint along the doors of his wardrobe. Joel rolled off the bed, muttering a slew of derogatory words your way, before vanishing into the bathroom down the hall. The silence swirling around you was the only comfort in the aftermath, the pain radiating inside you fading away the longer you sunk into the mattress.

The sound of footsteps flooded the room, and you flinched away as Joel’s hand roamed up your bare thigh. His fingers prodded against your throbbing entrance, teasing you until you squirmed out of reach.

“Take yourself home, little one,” he instructed.

You winced as you rose from the bed, not daring to make eye contact as you gathered your underwear and fled down the hallway. The slap of the cross necklace against your chest was a burning reminder of the sins you had committed. You staggered out the front door, barely making it down the first step of the porch before you burst into tears. Joel’s presence loomed behind you, and you looked back one final time to see him watching you leave with a sinister smile breaking across his face. With scuffed knees and his cum trickling down your thighs, you barreled home, knowing you had just met the Devil.

#dark!joel x reader #dark!preacher!joel #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller one shot #dubious consent #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #no outbreak au #dub con #non con #religion!kink

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disillusioneddanny · 1 year ago

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The Story of Us. Two: The Memories Start

Bruce stared in shock as Danny Fenton floated in front of them with his legs crossed beneath them. The ghost blinked a few times before a wide grin spread on his face and wow was he beautiful. Bruce mentally shook himself, this was a serious moment, and they needed help. And if Danny could provide that help, it would be great. But also, he was even more attractive now than when they had last seen one another.

Danny was dressed in long purple robes with a black trim, and a staff with a caduceus on the top rested in his slack hand. He had the same white hair only now it was long enough to be pulled back in a ponytail, the sides of his head shaved close to the scalp. A dark black tattoo started at his right cheek and dipped down into his robes, beautiful whorls and shapes that if Bruce stared deeply at it, was the language of ghosts written into his skin. He was beautiful beyond compare.

“Brucie?” Danny asked, squinting his eyes as he leaned forward in the air, trying to get a better look at him. “This is what you became when you decided to become a vigilante.”

Bruce thanked the ancients that the cowl covered most of his face because he knew he was blushing.

“You guys… know each other?” Green Lantern asked, looking between the two.

“Of course we do!” Danny said. “But we don’t need to worry about that, I’m here for work,” he told them and looked the members of the Justice League over and held back a smile.

“What is it?” Bruce asked, giving him a tired look, despite the fact that it likely did not have the same effect that Danny was used to when they were in their twenties.

“I knew you became a vigilante after I left but I never really had time to keep up. I didn’t realize you had a whole little superhero group,” he crooned, floating past the barrier, causing Constantine to jump in alarm before he floated around Bruce. “Are you a bat?”

“Yes, Phantom, I’m the Batman,” he said with a sigh, already knowing the teasing he was going to get from his childhood friend. Danny knew better than anyone what his fear of bats was like, and from the snort that came from the ghost, he was likely already thinking about it.

“Adorable,” the halfa said before he sobered up. “Okay, I’m done.”

Bruce watched as his friend composed himself, squaring his shoulders back, lifting his chin up, and cast a steely look at the heroes in front of him.

“I am Phantom, high healer of the Infinite Realms, who summons me?” He declared and Bruce’s heart skyrocketed.

Danny had become a healer? He knew that his friend had left for a war in the Infinite Realms but he had never heard from him since; the fact that he had continued on to his goal to become a doctor of some kind had Bruce feeling beyond proud of his friend. It had been a goal that they shared at one point, becoming medical professionals together.

Wonder Woman stepped forward and bowed in front of Danny. “Phantom, we are the Justice League; our teammates have fallen ill from a mysterious illness and we have been unable to find out what is wrong with them. We learned that you were one of the greatest healers in the universe and hoped to make a deal with you to help them.”

The halfa gave her a small smile. “No need to bow, I’m no royalty,” he said, raising a hand. “And there’s no need to make a deal. I’m more than happy to help you. A friend of Bru-Batman’s is a friend of mine,” he said, glancing over at Bruce.

Bruce stepped forward. “I’ll catch you up on the situation,” he said and Danny landed on the ground, his feet hitting the floor without a sound before he glided over to the vigilante.

“You’ll have to catch me up on a lot,” Danny murmured, glancing over at Bruce, his eyes that bright, beautiful green that he hadn’t seen in so very long. “It’s good to see you again,” he whispered softly.

“It’s good to see you too,” Bruce murmured, bumping their shoulders together and ignoring the looks of horror he was getting from the rest of his team. “You’ll have to catch me up as well, you know. High Healer?”

Danny’s blue skin turned a bright green as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah, it’s no big deal, though,” he said awkwardly.

“This is so fuckin’ weird,” Constantine muttered.

“Tell me about it,” Hal Jordan said in response. Bruce just held back a smile before he launched into his explanation of what happened to the supers and how they were in a coma. The two made their way into the medbay where both Damian and Tim were waiting beside their friends.

“Phantom, these are my sons, Robin and Red Robin,” Bruce said and Danny let out a coo as he looked at them.

“You have kids now?” He exclaimed before he froze at the sight of Clark. “Oh fuck.”

Bruce’s heart dropped at that as he remembered the state of his friend and colleague as well as Clark’s family. “What is it?”

Danny said nothing as he rushed over to Clark and spread his hands, a green hue glowed from his palms and over the super’s body. “I’m glad you summoned me,” Danny murmured. He stepped away from Clark’s body once it had taken on the glow and stepped towards Conner, ignoring the way that Tim balked.

“Danny, what’s wrong?” Bruce demanded, feeling himself panic.

“It’s a Kryptonian poison,” Danny murmured. “They call it the Bacterial Blight. It comes from the plant Blister Ivy. It’s an uncommon plant, especially now that Krypton is gone.”

“How do you know anything about it then? What are you doing to them?” Damian demanded, glaring as the same green light covered Conner’s body and he turned to Jon’s.

“It’s a stasis spell, it just freezes them in time so that they don’t get worse,” Danny explained. “I’m a healer for the Infinite Realms, I’ve learned some from the Kryptonians in my dimension but I’ll have to consult with them about this.”

Danny then launched into an explanation of what exactly the Blister Ivy was and the three vigilantes listened in horror. The plant was uncommon, even when Krypton still existed because of how dangerous it was. The plant was worse than even the most poisonous plant on Earth. It was a tiny plant that could only be found in some snowy regions and bloomed twice a year for three weeks. The plant itself had thick, spear-shaped leaves, usually a light red color with flowers that tended to be light grey, brown, and bronze. They grew in small numbers and even were easy to get rid of because of how rarely they grew.

The plants had a defense mechanism that allowed them to produce a powdery substance. If the substance got into the eyes, mouth, or nose, the victim would soon find themselves experiencing symptoms that grew worse and worse as time went by.

“It starts with a cough and a fever,” Danny said, looking down at Jon. “They then fall into a comatose state as we see here. If you had waited any longer before summoning for help you would notice that their veins would start to bulge out, the color changing to a bright green, then the organs would start to shut down one by one while the skin starts to develop bright blue blisters.”

“That’s exactly what their symptoms were before they fell comatose,” Tim murmured before he looked Danny over. “How could you tell just by looking at them?” He accused, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Bruce glanced over at Danny curiously, his son had a point, that was a rather fast diagnosis.

Danny gave them a small, secretive smile. “I’m just that good,” he said with a wink before he let out a chuckle and walked towards Clark. “In all seriousness, I just had to look at him. If you look closely, you can see his veins were already starting to turn green, not only that but there are blisters forming along his face,” he said and ran a finger along the top of Clark’s cheeks where sure enough, tiny blue blisters were already forming.

“So what do we do? How can we save them?” Bruce asked him, a frown on his face. “How long do we have to find a cure before their organs start shutting down?”

Danny shrugged. “All the time we need, right now they are all under stasis, and we’ll keep them under that stasis spell until we collect the ingredients. I’ll have to talk with a few of the Kryptonian doctors who have passed over already and see if we can recreate the cure. It’s likely going to be quite a few Kryptonian ingredients and that means it’ll take longer for me to collect them.”

“How on earth can you get ingredients native to a planet that is gone?” Damian snarled out, the twelve-year-old’s eyes already red-rimmed. Bruce stepped forward and rested a hand on his youngest son’s shoulder.

“Phantom is a very old friend of mine, if anyone can find these ingredients, it will be him. We just need to trust him, but our friends will be well once again,” he said softly. Damian sniffed, rubbing his nose just a little before he nodded his head.

“Alright,” he said and looked over at Danny. “Save them, please.”

Danny gave him a small smile and nodded his head. “I can do that,” he said.

The halfa looked over the three supers and ensured the stasis spells were fully set before he looked at Bruce. “They’re under a stasis for now. We can start focusing on the rest now,” he said softly.

Bruce smiled and walked towards Danny and, despite the fact that both of his sons would likely hold this over his head for the rest of his life and would never let him forget, he leaned forward and pulled the man in for a tight hug. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“Anything for you, B,” Danny said softly, standing on his tiptoes to wrap his arms around Bruce’s shoulders, hugging him tight.

The two walked down the hall of the Watchtower together, Bruce’s cowl tucked underneath his arm as he glanced at Danny.

“High Healer, huh?” He asked, quirking up an eyebrow in curiosity. Danny chuckled and shook his head.

“It’s a pretty long story,” he said, changing from his ghost form into his human form, giving Bruce the perfect opportunity to see just exactly what his childhood best friend looked like now. His hair was still the same, only that familiar dark black color, he had the same crystal blue eyes that continued to haunt Bruce’s dreams even twenty years later. Freckles were smattered across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, that same tattoo trailed down his face and along his neck. For a man who Bruce knew, was forty-three years old, Danny looked barely thirty-five. He still had the same short, slim build he had when they were in their twenties, still barely hitting five foot seven compared to Bruce’s six foot. Gone were the fancy healer robes and staff, in its place Danny wore a pair of worn jeans and an old NASA t-shirt that had Bruce reminiscing about old times.

“I’d love to hear about it sometime,” Bruce admitted as they continued walking. “Also, your room is still the same as you left in the manor. You’re welcome to stay there while we figure this out. If you want.”

Danny gave him an amused smile. “I’ll think about it, B. I do have a house in the Ghost Zone I can continue to reside in.”

“I know, but if it makes it easier. Besides, I’d like to get to know my best friend again,” he admitted hesitantly, feeling a sort of openness that he had never felt with anyone aside from Danny. Bruce knew he was awkward and bad at feelings, he knew that he couldn’t communicate for shit. But with Danny it was different, it was easier. If anything it was too easy, it was like his mouth lost control and said things before he even had a chance to actually think them through.

He didn’t remember being this embarrassed about it when they were teenagers, though. If anything he had once been thankful to be able to know that he could talk to Danny about anything and everything without feeling like an emotionally constipated asshole, as his kids would so eloquently put it.

“Yeah, we really are shit at keeping in contact, aren’t we?” Danny laughed, throwing his head back with the action. “Twenty fucking years with no contact, we suck.”

“We were busy. I became Batman and then became a father and found myself busier than I ever expected. And you apparently joined a war and became a high healer,” Bruce said, giving Danny a teasing look.

The ghost groaned. “Oh my Ancients, I’ll tell you about it eventually. It’s just a very long story,” he said, running his fingers through his hair.

“I’m going to hold you to it,” Bruce said smugly, bumping his shoulder against Danny lightly.

Read the prologue and chapter one here

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