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chrollohearttags · 5 months

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the baby trapper | armin artlert

armin wants to make sure you don’t ever leave him. Even if he has to resort to desperate measures

content + themes: porn w/ a little plot, toxic armin making his triumphant return, baby trapping (new to writing this so forgive me if it doesn’t sound right), slight yandere vibes (?) missionary, rough sex, daddy kink, breeding (dk what it is with this man and breeding 😫), unprotected sex, he’s so terrible but he’s so sexy

wc: 1.7K

📝: trying to get my steam back a little and I also couldn’t stop thinking about @levisbaldheadedwh0re and his five baby mamas 😭😭 I’d like to think this is how his ass got them.

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.

you’d told yourself no..you’d said it time and again that you were done. That this would be the very last time you’d see him..that he didn’t deserve you. All of which were false except the latter. Because somewhere in the back of your consciousness, you knew…you knew it’d always be this way. A tumultuous, repetitive cycle of breaking up and making up even harder. Telling him you hated his guts only got him to be in yours hours later; saying how sorry he was and you’d always forgive him without pause. But this time, he couldn’t be certain…the risk of you actually following through on your promise was far too great. You made it abundantly clear that if he didn’t get his shit together, you were breaking up with him. And to take things a step further, you were moving out of this city and leaving his ass behind entirely. The prospect of you moving onto bigger and better things..new job that paid amicably, an apartment on a nicer side of town than where you currently were and of course, a better man. You had every intention of doing so too. That was until…

“Keep fucking me!…just like that. Right there..”

“Right there, baby? That’s your spot, ain’t it?..squeezing me so fucking tight—“

until you made the rather ignorant choice to make one last visit to the toxic, selfish man known as Armin Artlert. Giving your final plea of sorts; hoping that he’d beg your forgiveness and vow to be a better boyfriend. Because although he wasn’t the best fit for you in the slightest, there was still some semblance of love there. A part of you cared so deeply and didn’t want to let him go. But the truth was, that was pure, unadulterated lust! The connection you felt for him was nothing more than an attachment to his sex..the way he fucked you was incomprobable. Hadn’t met a man who could make you feel the way he did physically. Despite causing you pain in every other area..regardless, you looked past it once he got you out of your clothes and on his mattress, practically breaking the bed frame trying to put you through it.

“Arminnn!….oh my gosh..”

coiling both your wrists and ankles into his grasp, he’d keep you in place, pounding into that core with consistent strokes. Each one going deeper and deeper..drumming out loud whimpers and arousal all the same. A sheath of your juices were leaking onto the sheets, along with staining his cock. He didn’t care..he desired more. Almost as if he were addicted to it. You were already overstimulated; afraid that you couldn’t take another orgasm. All of this came only after he had eaten your pussy to the point of tears. Yet, here he was..determined to get more than his fill. Those blonde locks plastered to his forehead due to the pouring sweat trickling down his body. He always got this way when he was inside of you. The only time he’d give you his all; completely devoted to ensuring that you received the ultimate pleasures. Trembling and shaking, (y/n) gazed into those icy colored eyes, each of which were teeming with lust for you as he finally faltered his speed a little. Those arms..each toned and laced with detailed tattoos stood at your side like that of pillars. “Yes, baby? Something on your mind?”

at the moment, it was completely blank. Your brain dumbed and fucked out by his unrelenting resolve. Not to prove he would treat you right but to ensure that you didn’t go elsewhere. That even if you decided to get in that car tomorrow, drive miles away and never look back, he’d be forever imprinted in your memory..

“I-I can’t..no more, baby. Please…oh my gosh.”

however, that wasn’t the only way that Armin was planning to leave his mark on you. Because little did you know, he had devised a plan to ensure that the two of you would be bound for a lifetime. Whether you wanted to do so or not..

“No more? Oh, sweetheart..I know you can give me so much more than that..” his voice mirroring that of a very nefarious villain. Even patting your cheek and sliding a thumb between your lips for a small semblance of comfort. You looked so cute and utterly pathetic. So much so the sight made him twitch whilst buried to your hilt. That swollen cock head pressing directly against the entrance of your womb. He hadn’t been entirely honest when he invited you over for what he called “one last talk.”..hell, he had no intentions at all of sitting down and discussing the state of your relationship, what he could do to resolve it or how to be a better man. His one and true objective was to get you pregnant! He wanted you to be with his child, so that no matter where you strayed, you’d be reminded of him. He’d constantly tell you how he wanted you to have his baby and that you’d look so pretty carrying it. But you couldn’t in good faith raise a child with someone as irresponsible as Armin! His employment was constantly fleeting, he lacked all the skills required to care for another human being and you didn’t want that risk. But you truly had no choice..no choice but to lie there and take every inch of him as your beautiful brown eyes rolled to the back of your skull. As that appendage left an imprint in the pit of your belly, kissing the inner corner of that cervix. Your legs flailing midair and your toes curling to the max. He wanted to keep you like this forever..admire and treasure his most precious possession..

“I mean..I bet if I do this..” suddenly, you’d feel that swelling tension in your loins deepening when he rubbed your clit with his free thumb. “No wait!—“ “..you’ll come so hard, I won’t even be able to stay inside of you.” His voice is so condescending but soothing in a way. He gave you sweet nothings with the most sour of intentions. Knowing that he wasn’t going to allow you to leave here tonight without every last drop of his seed in your womb. Until he saw the lines on that test indicating a positive result. He needed it..he needed you so fucking badly!

“So that’s why I want you to take it…take all this fucking dick, sweetheart. You’re such a good girl..the only one who can get all of my nut. So do it..take it just like you did the other ones.”

it was then that those vigorous thrusts would resume. Even harder than before and he didn’t care that he had now freed your hands and you were utilizing them as a means to slow him down. He’d merely put them right back where they started. “If you can’t keep your hands to yourself, beautiful. I guess I’ll just have to hold them again.” Meanwhile, he’d release another maniacal laugh and shove his tongue between your lips; swirling it around your own until you were whimpering into his mouth. He had maximized his speed and was rutting those hips until you felt him to the hilt. That tight cunt made even more constricted by his previous loads that had been sloshing around. Throbbing and leaking as he thrashed you around. His thick girth and long length fill every sector of you. He had full dominion over this body and wasn’t letting go!

“Are you gonna do as I asked, baby? You’ll do whatever I want, right?..”

“Y-yes, daddy! Fuck meeee..”

“And you’re not going any fucking where, isn’t that right?..”

“No…oh my gosh, just don’t stop.”

your answer seemed to satisfy his ego well enough and that was all he needed to persist. Smirking down and rewarding you with another kiss, Armin gently stroked the side of your face before leaning back up.

“That’s right, baby. Get used to calling me daddy..because I want to get you pregnant. Fill that pretty pussy up..you ready?” You’d vehemently nod with tears in your eyes. Begging for him to do so..to make you his forever. With only a couple more strokes, he’d take an inch or so out and for his final thrusts, slow down.. “..c’mon, beg me. Lemme hear you say that shit. Tell me you want my babies..tell me you want me to get you pregnant.” Leaving you no option than to do so and truth be told…

“Come in me, daddy! Please..give it to me..”

“There we go…now hold still..”

you wouldn’t want it any other way! Finally, he’d come to a halt and you’d feel that earlier throbbing increased tenfold. All that mounting tension of being between those tight walls had finally caught up and he couldn't hold or pull out. “Ah—haaa..shit, coming!”

pulling you into his chest, Armin would empty every last remnant of his cum into your womb, filling your stomach with every ounce, joining the other two that had followed before. You were stuffed to the brim; overflowing with the warm, white substance by the time he finished. Those strings of silky fluid didn’t come without a chorus of empty ‘I love you’s’ and tearful cries. He made you linger on every word. Hold on to hope that he meant what he spoke. But even if there wasn’t a hint of truth in his statement..

“Thank you, sweetheart…for letting me fill you up..look at that. Gonna look so pretty with my baby..I love you.”

it was too late. You were already trapped inside of his web!

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arieslost · 1 month

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little spoon | ln4

summary: lando is the little spoon for the first time.

word count: 835

masterlist — join my tag list here!

you’re half asleep when lando finally gets into bed.

you don’t mean to fall asleep, fully intending to stay awake, but the jet lag is really getting to you. you were hellbent on staying up in order to spend some extra time alone with your boyfriend after such a tumultuous day, especially because your flight to jeddah had been delayed.

you had only caught a glimpse of him before he had to get in the car, so you couldn’t do your pre-race ritual. instead, lando had sprinted to where you stood at the side of the track, hoping to at least give him an encouraging thumbs up, and kissed you so quickly that you barely even felt it before he was running back to his car.

so yeah, a little private time to decompress together sounded really nice. you’ve been trying everything you could, but you’re fighting a losing battle with your heavy eyelids.

the dip of the mattress has you blinking your eyes open, rubbing a hand over your face as lando slips under the covers. you give him a soft smile, and he returns it.

“hey, sleepy,” he whispers.

“hey,” you whisper back. “y’okay?”

“yeah. tired. still kinda pissed off.” he admits.

the race had gone so well, for a little while, at least. the rush of adrenaline you felt when your boyfriend led the race was like nothing you’d ever experienced before, and then he crossed the finish line in p8. you’re still learning the ins and outs of race strategy and whatnot, but you know that something had gotten lost when it came to lando’s strategy.

“sorry, baby,” you reach out and brush your fingers through his curls, still damp from the shower. “things will be better next race.”

“at least one of us is optimistic.” he grumbles, pressing himself further into your hand when you move it from his hair to caress his cheek.

“it will be,” you insist. “and i will be there, ready to say ‘i told you so.’”

he rolls his eyes playfully, and you push his face away in return. “you are so rude.”

“but you looove me,” he coos, grabbing your waist and pulling you into him.

“lucky you,” you make a face at him.

he laughs, sliding a hand to the back of your neck to pull you in for a long kiss.

you hum happily, appreciating how warm his body is and how good he smells. you want nothing more than to cuddle him close to you, pet his head, kiss his shoulder and his neck…

the lightbulb goes off in your head, and you break the kiss, causing lando to whine in dissatisfaction.

“baby…”

“you’re never the little spoon.” you say, like that explains why you’d want to stop kissing him.

“yeah,” he shrugs, pressing another kiss to your lips. “so?”

“so,” you begin, giggling when he goes in for yet another kiss, “maybe tonight you can be.”

“really?” he furrows his eyebrows. “you want to do that?”

“mhmm,” you affirm against his lips when he kisses you again before you can answer. “wanna hold you. you had a long day.”

“i did have a long day.” he agrees, sighing dramatically. “fine. one more kiss?”

“if you insist,” its your turn to playfully roll your eyes as he kisses you, smiling all the while and making an obnoxious mwah sound before he shifts onto his side away from you.

you scooch closer to him and a little further up the bed in order to get one of your arms between his neck and the pillow. the other goes under his own arm and rests against his bare chest.

“this okay?” you ask.

he nods, kissing your forearm.

“good,” you smile against his shoulder. “i love you, lan.”

“love you so much, my baby.” he murmurs, tangling your fingers together.

your heart beats a little faster at his use of my. for as long as you’ve been with him, you’ve never quite gotten used to that lovestruck feeling you get whenever he refers to you as his. you leave little kisses across his shoulder and his neck until his breathing evens out and your eyes fall shut.

when you wake in the morning, you’re sprawled out on your back with one lando norris still fast asleep and attached to your side like a koala. your left arm is still around his shoulders, but his face is snuggled into your neck, his arm is looped around your waist, and one of his legs is in between both of yours. you’re a little chilly courtesy of the blankets being stuck between your bodies, so you slowly move onto your side to face him so you can wrap your other arm around him and pull him closer.

he never says anything about it, to preserve his “macho-ness,” as he likes to put it, but every time he gets into bed and rolls onto his side after that night, you always know exactly what he’s asking for.

note: i warned y’all this would happen and here i am. also i’m still exhausted from going to a concert and then staying up for quali so if there’s any mistakes that i missed pls tell me otherwise i will die of embarrassment 💪🏼💪🏼

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever

#blurb #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 x you #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lando norris

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marshmellowtea · 1 year

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i literally just watched manly's who's lila playthrough yesterday but i already want to do it again today while i'm packing 😭

#babygirl william is literally the only thing getting me through this tumultuous time in my life huh #marshy speaks

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tiredneutron · 7 months

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Terrans

Humanity.

Listen well, for this is a tale of warning and of caution.

When humanity was first observed, many of the council thought they should be eradicated. A tumultuous and violent species who revelled in the destruction of their own kind. It was a close thing, but the council voted and humanity was allowed to develop - under the condition that none were to contact them until they were deemed ready.

Humanity never gave us the chance to do so.

They progressed their technology in timeframes yet unseen. They went from discovering electricity to landing on their own moon in a matter of decades - doing so with primitive technology, but it was a feat nonetheless.

From there they developed their own world - the space around their home planet Terra became a field of haphazard signals and messages, a bombardment of signals that interfered with our observational machinery. Due to this we weren’t ready when humanity ventured into the stars truly for the first time. They blasted themselves out of their atmosphere with controlled explosions of all things, their technology was nowhere near discovering antimatter coupling yet. Despite this they reached the edge of the quarantine zone within a matter of years, and we were discovered.

Despite our initial thoughts, humanity reacted very differently to us than expected. They didn’t wage wars on us, didn’t lay claim to our planets. They met us with unrestrained joy at finding others in the universe. They told us of their numerous attempts to reach out to us, and showed us some of their works of fiction that depicted how they imagined us (though they seemed to hide some others for reasons we couldn’t ascertain).

Humanity was welcomed into the stars, and they became commonplace. Their biology was baffling and their behaviour bizarre, but we accommodated them and they taught us how to work with them.

Centuries passed, and though the initial explorers were long gone, humanity had become a part of the council as low ranking members. Their species had become mostly peaceful, lowering their internal wars to less than skirmishes. Humanity’s violent and cruel nature seemed to have been tempered by the stars.

We were wrong.

From beyond the councils borders, beyond the observable space in the void, a threat appeared. They blasted through our sensors and demolished our border colonies in hours. Our intel on them was near zero due to the ferocity they annihilated our kin.

They reached the inner borders of the council, and the elder members prepared for a bitter battle. To our surprise, humanity asked to join the defence. They told us that their kin had settled on some of the border colonies, and that many had lost loved ones. We allowed humanity to join our last fight, even if we didn’t expect them to affect the battle.

We were wrong.

Many of my comrades who survived the battle have sleep terrors to this day. Not of the void settlers, but of the humans. The cruelty and viciousness we thought had disappeared from their culture came back with a vengeance. Who we had seen as scientists and farmers for centuries, comrades we had known for decades - they showed us that monsters don’t come from the void.

The void settlers never stood a chance. The council was barely able to get in formation before the battle was ended. If the void bringers tactics were ferocious, then the Terran’s were monstrous. For every ship they lost, every life they sacrificed, the void settlers lost a battalion, a planet’s worth of lives.

This loss brought the void settlers much shame and anger. They made a mistake that haunts me to this day. They used their speed to reach Terra before the council could relay to the humans the threat. Humanity watched as Terra split, as trillions of their families and non-fighting members were eradicated.

The fighting ceased. Humanity seemed to have frozen. Their fleets stopped dead in space and their communications went silent. Where humanity had been surrounded by wavelengths and frequencies that interfered with some technology still, the space around them became eerily silent, as though the death of the planet had killed even those off world.

The void settlers continued their attack on the council and disregarded Humanity. No need to worry about a broken opponent… Right?

They were wrong.

The Terran’s weren’t dead, or even broken. It was later revealed that the freeze had been due to grief. Humanity had lost its home world, but worse than that it had lost its peaceable citizens. The ones who should have been safe from the conflict.

All of humanity had watched, and all of humanity had grieved. But they were not broken.

The void settlers learnt this very soon.

Humanity descended on them in ways that made the last defence seem like a diplomatic discussion. We though we had seen the worst of humanity in our early observations. WE. WERE. WRONG.

Humanity has a saying “Hell hath no wrath like a woman scorned”, but the council has adapted it: “The void hath no wrath like a Terran without a home”.

The void settlers were routed from every planet they had taken. They retreated to the void leaving behind their technology and supplies, not even taking the time to recover some of their teams. But the humans didn’t stop.

In a move that the council had forbidden for millennia, the humans flew into the void. The entirety of the Terran race disappeared into the blackness beyond space and wasn’t heard from for longer than we had known of them.

The council mourned their losses, but viewed their final act as something done out of the madness of their loss. The Terran’s were remembered as warriors, as fighters, but also as family. They became known to those of us who’d seen them fight as “The angels of Death”.

I never expected to see a Terran again, assumed that the void had devoured them and their destructive grief with them. But one day a vessel I was onboard, tasked with assessing possible colonies to rebuild in the border planets - it detected something.

The frequencies and wavelengths of data that had only ever been human in nature. They were coming from the void.

The council watched as humanity emerged unexpected for the second time.

The flagship docked with our observation vessel, and the leaders came aboard to see us. I vaguely recognised the captain. Their features so slightly similar to the grief driven warrior we’d watched descend into the void. We asked what had happened, and the captain responded with the most chilling visage I had seen since the first footage of the void settlers. Their baring of their teeth was savage and joyous. So similar to the expression we saw at first meeting, yet so distorted. In that moment I saw what could have happened if the Terran’s had waged war on us.

“We won.”

#humans are space orcs #space australia

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slytherinslut0 · 5 months

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MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Twenty Eight--Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

Tags: 18+, SMUT, Rough Sex, Slapping (for sexual titillation), Dirty Talk, Multiple Orgasm, Overstimulation, GUNPLAY, Outdoor Sex, Gagging, Choking, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, ANGST ANGST ANGSTTTTTTT!!!!! GET THE TISSUES OUT!

FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

In the aftermath of your heartfelt confession, the ambiance shifted beneath the curtain of rain. Mattheo's initial warmth, which had enveloped the moment, began to withdraw, slowly being replaced by his usual guarded demeanor.

Tension, thick and tangible, emanated from him, as if he yearned to retract, to voice a refusal. The gaze that had once been soft, akin to melted chocolate, now bore a stark reluctance. It was as though the vulnerability you had glimpsed moments earlier had transformed into a protective shield, guarding him against the intensity of the unexpected revelation.

Undeterred, you pressed forward, defying the cooling atmosphere with a resolute step. Your hands, a gentle insistence against the encroaching frost, found their place on his face. Amidst the rhythmic percussion of springtime raindrops, your eyes held an unbroken contact, mirroring the pounding cadence of your heart. A silent gaze held him in place, allowing the weight of your words to permeate the space before you spoke again.

"Don't say anything," you whispered, the words borne on the breath of the rain-soaked air, a plea to let the unspoken emotions settle in the delicate stillness between you two. "You've said so much, Mattheo...you've shared so much with me...I don't need you to say another word...just...just listen,"

Mattheo blinked, the subtle motion accompanied by the quiet working of his throat as he swallowed. His hands, hanging at his sides, remained still as yours maintained their firm grasp on his face. An almost imperceptible nod from him prompted you to inhale sharply, capturing the breath in your lungs.

"Perhaps I lied to you..." you began, your voice soft, tender. "Perhaps I wasn't being truthful when I said I never believed in destiny...because in a way, I do...but I also believe that we are only destined to do the things we'd choose to do anyway..."

A pause ensued as you studied his countenance, your gaze tracing the scars on his skin and taking note of his perfect imperfections that shaped the essence of who he is.

"And I'd choose you, Mattheo...in a hundred fucking lifetimes, in a hundred different realities, I would choose you...every fucking time..." you declared, your grip on him intensifying. Your hands trembled, mirroring the tremor in your voice. "I don't care about your history, I don't care about any of the bad things you've done...everything you've been through has made you who you are...and I am fucking in love with who you are...every single part of you...your smart mouth, your cheeky smirk, every line and every scar..."

Drawing him nearer, you gently guided him until his forehead found solace against yours. His hands discovered the curve of your waist, pulling you into an embrace that emanated urgency, a profound need to absorb every syllable you uttered, each word a testament to the depth of emotions shared between you.

"Your skin, absent of its scars, would be like a sky without stars," you murmured, your shared breaths blending in the intimate proximity. "I didn't fall in love with you; I fucking walked into love with you--with my eyes wide open, deliberately choosing every step along the way. Everything you've revealed changes nothing, Matty...I love you, utterly and unequivocally."

A profound silence enveloped the space, and time seemed to elongate into a suspended realm, each passing moment an eternity. His eyes, a tumultuous storm of unexpressed feelings, gently fluttered closed, his lips parting as his breaths, once steady, now took on a rhythm almost akin to panting--a visceral manifestation of the emotions swirling within.

His hands, deliberate in their motion, traversed the landscape of your back, ascending with a sense of purpose. As they reached your head, his fingers, fueled by a desperate urgency, found purchase, gripping your face with a fervor that spoke volumes. In this charged atmosphere, his eyes, concealed behind closed lids, hinted at the vulnerability beneath the stoic exterior. The suspended moment begged for release, aching for the words that lingered on the precipice.

"Say it again..." his murmured request, laden with longing, reverberated through the charged air. "I just-"

"I love you," you said, the words firmer this time, your hands threading behind his head, fingers entwining in his soaked hair. "I love you..."

His jaw tensed, and he released a shaky breath--his eyelids fluttering, the grip on your skull tightening. "Again."

"I love you," you repeated, your voice gaining strength, fingers digging into his scalp as though you could force the words through. "I fucking love you, Mattheo Riddle."

Breaths intermingled, and your grips on each other surpassed the hold of any chains or restraints. In the pulsating intensity, your minds spun with a whirlwind of thoughts. Was there a sweeter arrangement than this? He gets to ask you, over and over to repeat it--while you get to tell him, over and over, that you mean it.

Your nails dug into his scalp, foreheads pressing together with an almost painful force. "I thought it would be impossible to ever find someone...to ever be with someone, when beneath my surface of composure, I'm scattered in a million different pieces--like a puzzle with missing parts..." you paused, lips softly grazing his. "But then you showed me that every piece doesn't have to be in place to create something beautiful...something real...that love can exist in the most imperfect, lost, broken people."

A guttural noise escaped him, resonating low in his throat as his fingers dug into your skin, cradling your head.

You inhaled a shallow breath before you continued, "and I promise you, my love will be just as strong, just as beautiful, whether you, too, are in a thousand pieces, or just one.”

Mattheo, completely struck silent, locked eyes with your parted lips. In perfect synchrony, your gaze met his, and in that silent exchange, there was a mere gasp of air before his mouth was on yours. The passion between your bodies ignited into an unbridled inferno, refusing any attempt at restraint. His kiss was a slippery bruise, melding madness at your skin, tongue driving into you while he inhaled through his nose. You met him, movement for movement, groaning against him, fingers folding further into his hair, thumbs tracing the tops of his ears, and he groaned against your lips before capturing them again,

The kiss was unlike any before--a fervent blaze spiraling out of control, unwilling to be subdued for even a moment longer. His lips met yours with an intensity that felt almost primal; a hungry, desperate fusion of raw emotion and longing. His hands cradled your head with a force that hinted at an uncontainable desire, making you wonder if he sought to meld your very essence. The cool droplets of rain cascaded around you, soaking your skin to the bone, but you couldn't find it in you to care.

"I need you, princess..." he whispered, parting from the kiss, his hands gliding down your back as his lips found the curve of your neck. "But you already knew that, didn't you? Pretty girl..."

Your eyelids fluttered in response, fingers tightly grasping his hair, a desperate grip that mirrored the intensity of his kisses trailing down your neck. Your lip found refuge between your teeth as his mouth explored the path of rain cascading along your skin.

"My tainted little angel," he murmured, his words a provocative caress against your ear. "Crushingly beautiful...tender like a bruise..."

His hands, firm and insistent, sought the curves of your hips, fingers grasping at the wet fabric of your dress, tugging it upwards along your thighs. "You were the first sin actually worth hurting for...had me wrapped around your little finger before you even fucking touched me..."

You throbbed, a full-body pulse, humming into him with a shudder, Mattheo's lips moved back to yours, nipping at your lower lip before sliding to your chin, following the streams on your skin as he pressed clumsy, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, falling to suck and nibble at your heartbeat. Whimpering, you nuzzled your head into his, and he responded with a sharp bite to your neck, barely-restrained, earning a squeal from your throat.

"I told myself I was fine...that I was better off alone...never needed anyone, never wanted anyone...but then you came around, and after all this fucking time, after everything I put you through...it's still you, it's you who fucking believes in me..." he murmured against your skin. “You mean so fucking much to me…and when I finally admitted to that myself, when I finally let myself feel…you made me better, and I don't mean from being my tutor...you just made me want to be better...fuck, Raven...I wanted you to look at me the way you looked at the stars...I wanted to get better grades for you…I quit drinking and drugs because I wanted to be a better man for you..."

As he lifted your dress beyond your hips, your hands eagerly joined the movement, gathering the fabric's hem and peeling it over your head. His eyes traversed over every inch of newly exposed flesh, absorbing the sight with an intensity that spoke volumes. You observed as he swiftly shed his suit jacket, stripping the soaked fabric from his frame and laying it on the ground. His hands deftly moved to undo his belt, discarding his gun in the process. Returning a firm grip on your hips, he crashed his mouth back to yours, a relentless hunger igniting the kiss.

Moaning, you writhed into his chest, and he gripped your face, nails scraping your scalp while he pulled you closer, groaning into you, leaning--you followed him, chasing his kiss until you were both on the ground; him on his back, your legs straddling him, palms planted on his chest.

"I’ve had some, then most of you...all, and then none of you..." a soft, anxious breath escaped his throat, and he swirled his tongue over yours before biting your lip and pushing you up, hands settling on your thighs, rocking you back and forth over his thick erection, covered only by the thin fabric of his boxers. "I-I can't lose you again...it's you...it's fucking always been you..."

"Oh, Gods..." your voice cracked, emotion bubbling in your chest, threatening to spill out as you rolled your hips against him. He watched you, panting in rhythm with you, and you admired him--how fucking beautiful he was--his eyes stark with need, his mouth parted in open anticipation, his muscles tensing as he gripped and squeezed you, jerking his hips into your heat. "You won't...you fucking can't..."

Rain bathed you both, rivers roaming over your curves, white cloth of your bra a dewy illusion over your breasts. His thumbs skimmed your nipples with prickles of pleasure, and you moaned, head falling back on your shoulders. As if the sound awakened something inside him, he gripped your hips, flipping the two of you around until you were on your back beneath him, lips instantly moving to your neck, sucking at your throat.

You slid your hands under his shirt, savoring the firm contours of his body. He tensed, a low groan escaping into the intimate space between you, while his hips pressed against you with a force that seemed intent on melding you with the forest floor. Your fingertips traced the hard muscles, memorizing the damp, heated feel of his skin. In his voracious pursuit, he exhibited no restraint, extracting painful hickeys from the pulse at your neck.

The heat of desire surged between your thighs, and he moved lower, marking you with unrestrained passion. Tissue yielded to the pressure of his teeth, welts blooming under the fervent touch of his lips. Anxiety flickered through your mind as visible evidence of his ardor emerged, but the soft groan escaping his chest erased any concerns. Your back arched, willingly offering more of your untamed flesh to his insistent exploration. Grateful, he bit at the swell of your tits, crimson crescents blooming, and his hands moved to your underwear as he laved at your nipple through your bra, scraping it with his teeth through the fabric.

Mattheo fumbled at your folds, two thick fingers peeling you open, assessing your slickness, teasing your entrance. "Still so fucking wet for me..." he murmured, clucking his tongue. "And in the middle of the fucking forest...you'd take my cock anywhere I wanted, hm?"

You bit your lip, trying to grind against his hand. "What can I say...watching you use that gun did something to me..."

"Naughty, naughty girl..." he leaned to your ear, thumb skating your clit--you gasped. "Weren't you ever told to stay away from the asshole, weapon wielding bad boys?"

"Perhaps," you hissed through a moan as Mattheo pushed two fingers inside you--your walls tightening around him, hips twitching, head lolling against his soaked jacket. "Though I've never been good at following orders."

Mattheo huffed. "I'd say."

His mouth consumed you with a fervor, tracing a path of rich violet marks from your chin down to your clavicle, his spit mingling with the rain. Scissoring you open, he rolled your stiff clit, rocking his wrist, curling and working your walls, his other hand palming at his erection in an attempt to pacify himself. You bucked your hips, a shivering moan escaping, and he cursed, slamming in to the knuckle.

"If I fuck you now," he muttered at your jawline, "you'll have to take all of me. Everything I give you." He bit your neck, hard, forcing a cry from your lips. "I won't be able to control myself."

Heat scorched you, and you pulsed around him in anticipation, his fingers crooking in your wet core. Thunder grumbled in the distance. "Thought I'd long proved my capability."

Mattheo purred, and bit you again, pain shooting through you. "Earlier doesn't count, we were rushing...I need to wreck this tight little cunt...I'll fuck you harder and deeper than any of those assholes could ever fucking dream of..."

You shuddered, meeting his eyes. "Do your worst."

Snarling, he leaned back onto his knees, tore his fingers from your core and stuffed them in your mouth; you whinged in surprise, working to suckle them clean. Mattheo's free hand unleashed his dick, twitching eagerly despite its thick, heavy length. He jammed his hand to the back of your throat, and you gagged before he depressed your tongue, prying open your jaw.

"You know how this works." His gaze locked onto you, and the sky seemed to ignite with lightning around him. "Beg for it."

When he released you, you gasped into the rain. "Please, fuck me."

In the blink of an eye, his hand struck you, unleashing a spray of saliva from your parted lips. "That was pathetic," he snickered. "I fucking said beg."

Your face burned--humiliation, shock, and most importantly: desire. If this is what he meant, you wanted more. "Why don't you fucking make me?"

"There's that dirty mouth..." Mattheo smirked, shifting as he reached for his gun, gripping it with his free hand while the other stroked his cock. Before you could process it, he brought the barrel toward your temple, pressing the cold, wet metal against your skull. "Last fucking chance, princess...if you don't beg for my cock I'll fuck you so hard you'll be begging for mercy instead."

A whirlwind of shame and yearning left your head spinning, the likely instigators of your brief lapse into temporary insanity. "I'm not scared of you, Riddle..."

“Oh, princess.” His smirk grew. "You should be."

Adjusting the gun, he compelled the barrel past your lips, the icy metal coating your tongue. His other hand delved into your hair, gripping your soaked strands tightly as he forcefully drove the gun deeper into your throat. Then, without warning, he broke you open, splitting your core with a deep, harsh thrust, head slamming your cervix. You cried out against the weapon, body recoiling in pain, hands moving to his hips, and he shook you in reprimand.

"Oh, no--don't fucking bother." He drove his palm into your head, his nails scratching your scalp. "No running. Take it."

Mattheo pulled out fully before ramming back into you, spearing you with his cock, your body quaking with the force of each of his violent thrusts. His breath was already ragged, furious groans pushed from his chest as he fucked deep into you. Your lungs were empty, failing to find oxygen in his onslaught, your walls squeezing his length in delight, drool spilling down your chin and mingling with the flow of rain.

"Fuck--such an insatiable little cunt..." he growled, his eyes drilling into yours, taunting you through his gaze. "It missed this cock already, didn't it?"

Another deep thrust, meeting your cervix, and you winced, groaning against the gun as you tried to nod.

"That's right...shit..." he pulled the gun from your mouth, strings of drool hanging like garland from the barrel, quickly being washed away with the rain. "My girl...my fucking beautiful, filthy girl..."

He tossed it onto the ground next to your head, drawing his hand down toward your belly, slick fingers rubbing merciless circles on the bundle of nerves in rhythm with his pistoning hips--you wailed, drooling with pleasure, assaulted with a sudden, immediate need to orgasm.

"Fucking hell, you're so tight when you're about to cum..." he groaned, punishing your pussy with hard, rapid thrusts. "Prove you can take it. Cum on this cock."

Between the attention on your clit and the size of his dick, you snapped, convulsing and trembling while your blood flooded with flames, blazing heat through your thighs and to your toes. Above you, Mattheo hissed, fucking you through it, valiantly holding off his own orgasm as yours fizzed at your flesh. When your core's pulsing slowed, he shifted, propping your calves up his shoulders before he leaned forward and clamped his palm down on your neck.

"Don't squirm, baby..." his low voice commanded, and as you whimpered, squirming beneath him, his grin deepened. His eyes, now wild and intoxicated with desire, held a promise. "I gave you fair warning."

His free hand pinched your cheeks, slowly sliding out before slamming back in and pounding your cunt, growling breath leaking from his lungs, his hold on your throat tightening. The pressure in your head only doubled the frenzy of being fucked--you wheezed, your pulse thumping in your temples, and this spurred him on, drilling you with a depraved stare as he plowed into your tight pussy again and again and again.

The rain was steam on your skin, thunder a distant noise behind the sound of slapping skin and your strangled, whimpering moans. Your walls clenched and fluttered around his throbbing dick, sore clit twitching once more with a growing demand to be sated--Mattheo grunted, tugging you closer, eyes drilling into yours.

"Open that filthy mouth."

Wincing, you complied, parting your lips as he commanded. Without hesitation, he leaned down and spat into it.

"Now swallow it. Show me."

With determination etched on your face, you managed to comply against the pressure of his massive hand. Popping your jaw apart with a grimace, you showcased your resilience, earning a smirk from him. In response, he rewarded you with a series of both painful and blissful strokes of his hips, pushing your body to its absolute limit. Your breath had vanished ages ago, your heart now a wild entity, coursing through your veins.

"Poor baby," he sneered, feign sincerity in his tone. "I think you need to cum again."

He snaked his free hand between your legs, rolling your aching clit, and you groaned--or tried to, anyway--the speed of your pulse resonating through the grip on your neck. He felt it, too, head bowing in pleasured shock as you thrummed around him, your oncoming climax massaging his thick cock with every new thrust.

"Fuck." Resolute, he rubbed you faster, watching you--in his gaze, you saw nothing but an endless, dark void of lust. "Who do you fucking belong to?"

The words barely made it out. "Y-you, Mattheo..."

His choke tightened, and your vision blurred. "Who owns this tight little pussy?"

"You--you do, Mattheo..." you gasped.

"That's right," he sneered, and swirled your nub so quickly you squealed. "Cum for me, princess..."

The force of your orgasm surged through you, blurring your vision, and you screamed, choked by his hand as every muscle below your waist convulsed in a rapturous ecstasy. Your pussy milked and squeezed his cock, but he resisted his own climax once more, sinking into you until you descended. He drank in the sight of you--eyes rolled, raindrops scattered like diamonds on your skin, your throat and chest smothered with the evidence of his possession.

"Good fucking girl...take me...take all of me," he muttered, voice low and deep in the night air. "Every single fucking inch."

Mattheo shifted again, one arm coiling under you to fist your hair, the other cranking your leg back until your knee hit your chest. Groaning with pleasure, he hammered into you, stretching you wide, filling you to the base. Soaked strands of his hair slid into his eyes, and he tossed them back, wetting his lips and fucking you deep, trapping you in his feral gaze.

"You love me." He tilted your head back with a deliberate motion. "You fucking love me."

You nodded, not a shred of hesitation. "Yes-fuck! I do!"

He swallowed, inching closer, his forehead tenderly meeting yours. "After all of it," he whispered, the words almost lost in the shared breath, "after everything..."

Your chin quivered, and the revelation about his parents cut into your heart, a painful echo of his turbulent past. It hurt, yes, but it also felt like the a groundbreaking revelation, the ending to the story which finally explained why he was the way he was. There was an undeniable understanding that surged between your hearts, a silent recognition that both of you needed love in ways only the other could provide.

Despite the turmoil, you couldn't blame him for something so deeply rooted. The man craved love as desperately as you did, neither of you ever willing to admit it. In the synergy of your souls, there existed an undeniable connection, a perfect harmony that transcended spoken words. Even in the hushed language of silence, your hearts resonated, acknowledging that there would never be two souls more perfectly suited for each other than yours.

"After everything." You wrapped your arms around him, safe when lightning crashed, rocking your hips in his pace. "No matter what."

"Fuck." He wound your hair in his fist, and wrenched your head back, tearing at your throat with his teeth, harsh thrusts pulverizing your cunt. "...I'm--fuck--I'm going to make you break again." His hand left your leg, long fingers back to stroking your tender clit. "And then I'm going to fill you up with my cum."

Senses barraged, you shrieked, overwhelmed and oversensitive. He wasn't fucking joking. You wanted mercy. "Fuck! Mattheo! Please-please-"

"No. Take it," he snarled into your ear. "Take it."

He assailed your nub, and you quailed, curling around him like a snake, shaking from the overwhelming intensity of his power, lids shut while he nipped your neck, demolished your pussy, panted hard into your ear.

"You're mine." He growled, his voice shredded raw with lust. "Mine."

"I'm yours!" You shrieked, nails digging crescents into his back. "Yours."

"Fuck-" he hissed, slamming harder, deeper. "Mine! All fucking mine..."

"Yours! Fuck!" It was all too much, too great, brain crashing into a wanton mess. "All fucking yours!"

Your body convulsed, teeth sinking into your lip, propelled through a realm of heightened sensitivity into an ecstasy that seared your skin. Gasps and incoherent pleas spilled from your lips, a desperate supplication for release, for him to unleash the crescendo that would send you soaring and screaming and cumming.

"That's it," Mattheo growled, pumping into you, folding you into his frame. "You're taking me so fucking well baby, just one more...cum for me, angel."

Your senses fractured, caught between euphoria and disbelief, and your body spasmed, climax radiating through your every fiber, a luminous burst that shattered any remnants of sanity, setting Mattheo ablaze in its wake. He groaned, grunted, burying himself to the hilt, warm cock pulsing as he poured hot cum deep into your cunt. For a moment, he didn't move, silently working to catch his breath before he pulled back, shifting onto his knees.

You fixated on him, your head weighed down, struggling to fathom the endearment he had bestowed upon you--silently endeavouring to etch every detail of this encounter into the recesses of your memory. A contented sigh escaped you, accompanied by a smile that radiated the joy swelling within your chest.

However, as you gazed at him, basking in the warmth of affection twinkling in his eyes, you noticed a flicker of something else--an abrupt shift. His thumb grazed your chin absentmindedly before he moved, working to tuck himself away. You mirrored his actions, attempting to salvage what was left of your clothing, now thoroughly drenched by the relentless rain.

Walking through the forest on your way back to the castle, the shadows of the trees played in the puddle-soaked ground, creating a surreal dance around you. Mattheo extended his hand, a silent invitation you willingly accepted. The brief connection sent a comforting warmth through you, grounding you amidst the uncertainty.

As you navigated the path, thoughts swirled like the mist around you. The night's events echoed in your mind, and a cloud of questions veiled the clarity you sought. Contemplating a potential job at the castle, you wondered about its impact on your newfound bond with Mattheo. Did you still harbour the same enthusiasm for the job amid these compelling complexities? The walk became a journey through both the tangible forest and the intricate maze of your thoughts, navigating the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

Approaching the castle, the distant melody of music embraced the night air, whispering promises of celebration within. Capturing the tune, Mattheo halted abruptly, pivoting to face you as the two of you lingered just outside the castle walls, hidden by the shadows of the night.

Your brows furrowed inquisitively as you locked eyes with him, seeking to understand the meaning behind this sudden pause. "What are you-"

"Shh." He cooed, eyes darting around.

After a brief survey of the surroundings, he fixed his eyes back on you with a newfound emotion swirling within them. Without another word, Mattheo enveloped you in a tender embrace, guiding your arms to rest on his neck as his firm hands settled on your hips. Bathed in the gentle glow of castle lights, he initiated a graceful sway to the rhythm of a slow, melodic tune that harmonized seamlessly with the rain-soaked ambiance.

In the suspended moment, your gaze locked with his, the world around you blurred as the rain continued its gentle descent, creating an intimate cocoon amidst the springtime storm. It felt perfect, a clandestine world of your own, away from the prying eyes of others.

"All those people think love's for show..." Mattheo blinked, drawing his face closer. "But I'd fucking die for you in secret."

Your breath hitched, water welling in your eyes. You quickly blinked it away, searching his face, mapping it, along with everything else from this night into memory.

"How'd I get so lucky..." you tightened your hold on him, the raindrops adding a gentle percussion to the soundtrack of the moment. "A sky full of stars, and yet you're staring at me..."

"There's no need," he murmured, directing your head to lay against his chest. "Avere lei è come avere le stelle."

Your heart leapt. "How did you-"

"Notts been teaching me," he said, and you could practically hear the smirk on his lips, the pride in his tone. "You know what I said, don't you?"

You blushed, unable to stifle your grin. "I do."

He hummed. "Tell me."

"No," you whispered, fingers digging into his neck as you shifted your head to look up at him. "I'd like to hear you say it."

His smirk grew, and he peered down at you. "To have her, is to have the stars."

“Mm,” you glimpsed his mouth, brushing your lips against his as you murmured, "E averlo, è come avere la luna." (And to have him, is to have the moon.)

His smirk blossomed into a radiant smile as he gripped your face, drawing you into a profound, messy, deep kiss. Every fiber of your being quivered under the intense surge of emotions you felt for this man--love enveloping you entirely, and whether or not he uttered the words, you could sense it--right now, ten minutes ago, and every moment in between.

All you wanted, more than anything, was that he’d hold you tight, and whisper that you’d find a way to be together. But then, his hands fell from your face, wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you back into him. With his lips pressed to your forehead, he whispered,

“I’ve never loved anything, Raven…anyone…I didn’t even know I had a heart until you made it beat.” He murmured, tightening his grip. “Now this heart belongs to you. And I’ll fucking kill every last person that tries to keep you from me…”

You shuddered, breathing him in. “We’ll make it work. We’ll figure it out.”

He hummed, nodding softly, the two of you swaying to the gentle melody, ignoring the cold rain pouring down against your bodies. You weren’t sure how long you’d stood there, minutes, maybe even hours--but as the song came to an end, switching to another, more upbeat one, you smiled, meeting his dark, gleaming eyes.

“I love you, Mattheo.”

He pressed his lips to yours. “I love you, Raven.”

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fayeriess · 5 days

Text

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺ THE INEVITABLE PULL ༻♱༉‧₊˚.

ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: on the night of her twenty-first birthday, ellie find herself in the one place she asked jesse not to bring her. a strip club.

warning(s): 18+ smut, modern!au, stripper!reader, mentions of alcohol, alcohol consumption, dudes in clubs being jackasses, jesse being a wingman ( thank you bestie ), dry humping ( a little?? ), fingering ( reader!receiving ),oral ( elle!receiving ), a one night stand, essentially. not proof-read!

a/n: yet another one-shot i'm bringing back. i do have a little 90s ellie drabble in my drafts that I'm working on so definitely let me know if you'd like to see that ;)

You know that feeling you get when you walk into a place you don’t want to be in? A feeling so uncomfortable that it makes you involuntarily bounce back and forth from the heels of your feet to the tips of your toes, eyes darting from left to right trying to observe the situation you were faced with.

Ellie was unfortunate enough to be experiencing it tonight as the blood in her veins thumped into the base of her eardrums, her hands in the small pockets of the denim jeans she wore as her shoulders hunched with uncertainty. The air smelt like immeasurable amounts of liquor and what Jesse described as ‘fun times’.

He had coaxed her out of her apartment and off of the confines of her couch on the eve of her twenty-first birthday, a smile on his face as he landed a pat with an open palm on the back of her right shoulder which rattled her, a grimace curling onto the skin of her lips. Playing the scenario back in her mind now, it seemed as if he considered her feelings which didn’t end up being the case. Sometimes, Ellie would find herself filled with slight guilt for even having the thought of her friend being faintly ignorant — but it oozed out of him as he weaved his way through the teeming club. She was barely one for small parties, preferring to linger in the corners away from unseen eyes, processing what was laid before her in the form of passing bodies.

Finding herself experiencing how it felt to be somewhere more open — more suffocated — made her stomach tie in the tightest of knots.

Blowing a puff of air out of her throat, Ellie felt annoyance creeping up within her as the bone of her shoulder collided with someone else’s.

“Watch where the fuck you’re going.”

Through the tumultuous beat of hip-hop music, those seven gruff words reached the canal of her ears causing the soles of her shoes to squelch on the scuffed polish of the club floor as she turned around. Deep lines formed between her eyebrows as she scowled, her fingers curling into the palm of her hand, teeth gritting together.

“The fuck?”

Ellie didn’t know whether to consider it a blessing or a curse that no matter the situation, her mouth couldn’t just stay closed even with multiple attempted efforts. It worked out for her in less violent ways fifty percent of the time. Whereas, the other fifty percent caused adrenaline to pump in her veins so quickly that her body would shake slightly, growing numb as if to prepare for whatever damage would arise.

People tended to underestimate how much damage swirled around her balled fists due to her average stature and the fact that she was a girl. She knew better than to let things progress further, not only for the sake of not wanting to deal with it on her birthday but for the poor patron who’d most likely end up losing if he decided to take the unknown risk of a fistfight. Especially with her.

“You fuckin’ heard me.” The man towered over her, dark eyes riddled with drunkenness and a bubbling fury as she looked up at him through low eyelids, a smirk appearing at the corners of her mouth.

Through her peripheral vision, she could see the stares of other club-goers as they observed the altercation with interest, curious to see who would throw the first punch. It would’ve been Ellie. Seriously, she was so close to cocking her fist back just to swing it into his aging face but Jesse had a knack for knowing when his friend got into trouble because he appeared next to her before she could blink, fingers grabbing at the back of the plaid button-down she wore, trying to de-escalate the painstakingly icky tension as those who were unaware continued with their night.

“Woah.” He dragged out in an airy laugh, snaking himself in front of Ellie in case things went south. “No problems here, right?”

Not trusting herself enough to not utter a single word, Ellie turned and let her feet carry her straight to the bar at the far left corner, jaw tight as she found an empty spot to slide herself into in hopes of getting herself a drink as it had just reached one in the morning. If she had the option to restart the first hour of her birthday somewhere else, she could, but beggars can’t be choosers — and Ellie was far from being a beggar.

Locking her eyes onto her choice of liquor, she let the music creep back in her ears once more as her eyes clouded over, scanning the crevices of her brain for the pros and cons of having a couple of shots throughout the night, or just getting a glass straight-up.

Clearing his throat, Jessie weaseled his way next to her before grabbing the bartender’s attention, his pearly white teething glistening under the neon lights that shone through the darkness, eyes shamelessly roaming across her body as she bit her lip flirtatiously.

Ellie couldn’t roll her eyes, itching to have a drink in her grasp to ease the small jolt of nerves that would pinch her every couple of seconds.

“Can I get angel’s envy on the rocks?” She asked, avoiding looking at the lady behind the bar as she nodded curtly.

“Sure thing, honey.” Turning to Jesse, her back arched slightly as a means to pop her chest in his face a little more. The only thing that was stopping her from leaning closer was the countertop between them as she spoke lowly.

“And for you, baby?” She drawled, voice slow. She already had a couple of drinks, which was evident through her shameless attempt at flirting which the dark-haired man seemed to be into for some reason.

His lips quirked up, arms crossed over each other as he went to rest them on the bartop, eyes boring right into her soul.

“Same thing.”

Ellie took the opportunity to observe her surroundings even further. Eyes moved from the people sitting in small round booths and velvet chairs to the stage that sat front and center, one of the main reasons why she had been brought here tonight. A pole stood upright under the bright white lights, metal practically sparkling, blinding her as if to make its presence more known to her than it already was.

In life, there were a lot of firsts and Ellie had gladly experienced them with pride, diving headfirst. However, this was a completely different ball game that filled her with a small enough amount of discomfort that caused her to scratch at the nape of her neck.

“Y’know, the least you could do is say thank you for having me deal with your shit.” Jesse chuckled jokingly, fingers jutting outward to slide the glass toward her which she took without a second thought.

Although Ellie could sense the humor in his voice, the bitterness she felt seemed to overpower her brain before she could correctly process her words. “The least? You could’ve been a little more considerate when you decided on where to take me on my birthday.”

She leaned closer to him, having to raise her voice to be heard through the music. “A fucking strip club. Really?”

Raising his glass, he just smiled smugly at her which caused her eyes to roll to the back of her head for the second time that night before he clanked it with hers in a toast. “To being twenty-one.” Tilting the chilled cup toward his mouth, he downed his whiskey in one go before shaking his head to rid of the burning in his throat. Ellie followed right after, letting her eyes screwed shut as heat ran into the pit of her stomach.

“God that was fucking awful.”

All Ellie got in response was Jesse’s arm over her shoulder as he stood on the tips of his toes, neck craning over heads as if he was looking for something in particular. Before she could ask, his eyes lit up, her body moving forcefully as he dragged her away from the bar and in the direction of a booth that was mostly empty beside three other people occupying a small section of space. Jesse’s friends.

Truthfully, this night seemed to be getting worse as she watched Jesse slide himself in before moving in his seat, the leather squeaking as it rubbed against his clothes. Ellie licked her lips, tasting a hint of the shea butter chapstick she had applied to them earlier in the night, body growing rigid as one of his friends stared at her with wavering uninterest.

“Who are you again? He slurred, lazily pointing a finger in her direction, swaying in his seat slightly.

Ellie’s reply was simple and cold. “Ellie.”

Jesse slapped him on the back, sending his torso to push forward and some of his liquor to fall out of his shot glass and onto the table in front of them. “Seth shut the fuck up.”

Seth opened his mouth, lips in the shape of an ‘o’ before his face contorted into one of amusement, “Oh” He chuckled.

If Ellie was being honest with herself, she didn’t remember his name either. Jesse’s friends weren’t people she would necessarily surround herself with if she was looking for company. On occasion, she’d stop at Dean’s house ( the name of the only one she bothered to remember, only because he treated her like he would any of his other guy friends ) with him only because she got to smoke for free, and she’d never pass up free weed.

Moving to sit, Ellie lowered herself before breathing in through her nose, the lighting dimming above her almost instantly as the song that was playing came to a pause before another one followed behind.

Confusion grew on her features as the sharp clank of heels could be heard from where she was, just a couple of feet away, in the third row of seats right smack in the middle. She didn’t know what to expect. It wasn’t as if she was well-versed in the club universe because she hadn’t been in one before tonight.

She heard Dean hiss behind his teeth before whistling loudly, “Damn.”

Averting her gaze toward center stage, she could feel her cheeks warm as she stared at you. Your hair fell down your shoulders in loose waves, your bottom lip tugged between your teeth before you smiled warmly, red nails gliding up and down your hips before you swayed them side to side seductively, moving to the rhythm of the music. Hoots and hollers filled the expanse of space, bouncing off the walls and directly into her ears.

“Fuck, she’s hot.”

Ellie was thankful for the darkness that enveloped the room as the crimson flush on her cheeks darkened in color even further. She shuffled back into her seat, keeping her gaze locked on your body as you spun around the pole, the string of your black thong hiking up your hip just a little higher, something she swore only she noticed.

With her gaze boring into your frame, she watched as you swung one leg over the other, spinning on your heels before lifting yourself off the stage using the pole, your grip tightening as your feet moved in place.

This feeling in between her legs, the ache she got from just seeing you was otherworldly, she felt wrong about it. She didn’t even know you ( as badly as she wanted to now ) to be feeling the way she did. The butterflies in the pit of her stomach fluttered so aggressively that they felt as if they were crawling out her throat as her breath hitched.

When the money appeared, adorning you as if it was rain falling, she melted into the leather of the booth. Her eyes widened before a cough emitted from her throat, her heart picking up its pace as your eyes darted across the crowd and she swore you were staring at her as you crawled on all fours in front of the stage.

So, the only natural thing for her to do was stare right back at you, keeping her gaze locked on your low-lidded eyes before letting someone lift the band of your thong to place a wad of cash, their fingers lingering on your bare hip for longer than necessary before you gracefully danced away.

You were a goddess, clad in her most seductive armor that nobody could lay a finger on. Ellie could tell by the way you carried yourself, head held high and body swinging low as cash surrounded you. As awkward as she felt, she sure hoped she didn’t look the part because your eyes were still on her.

A small smack to her arm caused her to twist her head in Jesse’s direction, a frown on her face as she tried to stare at him through the darkness. “You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

His eyebrows raised in amusement, lips pressed together to keep himself from laughing aloud. “It’s okay you know, to stare, that’s why we’re here.”

Putting the palms of his hands out, he gestured around him as if to prove a point.

Ellie tutted before she grabbed a loose strand of hair and tucked it behind her ear, grabbing at the new drink that miraculously appeared ( he must’ve grabbed it off of one of the guys ) before gulping the rest of its contents down, lips puckering as her lungs developed a burn that only Hennesey could give her.

“This is the last time I’m letting you drag me anywhere without telling me first.” She huffed, blowing out a breath that caused her cheeks to ache slightly. She averted her gaze to you again, this time watching as you left the stage, signaling the end of your set as people cheered and whistled.

“That was something, I’ll tell you that.” She heard Dean say, his hands traveling down to his pants to try and conceal the very noticeable boner that had tented.

Ellie pulled her lips back in a snarl, teeth out in the open as an uncomfortable expression reached her features, skin near the corners of her eyes creasing as she narrowed them in his direction. Men were fucking gross — and the way he sat there, licking his lips hungrily as if he’s made up his mind to go after you tonight — only furthered that thought into the front of her mind.

The leather seat dipped slightly when Jesse took the initiative to scoot himself closer to her, leaning down to yell, “Was I right?”

Ellie glanced at him through low eyes as the scent of weed hit her nose, merely shrugging in response before lifting herself and pulling down the ends of her shirt, the cotton material having ridden up.

Se suddenly found herself staring at the bar a couple of feet away from her, coincidentally landing her green eyes on the dip of your back, the bands on your thong littered with cash still. You looked fucking amazing. Your hair was now bunched up in your right hand as you fanned your neck with the left one, your crimson-painted lips moving quickly as you spoke to the bartender she felt herself loathing after their earlier interaction. If you could even call it that.

A high-pitched whistle beside her pulled her out of whatever thoughts consumed the spaces of her mind. It was none other than her friend, moving his head to stare at who she’d been eyeing. Finally, he saw you in the crowd of people squished at the bartop, and then his brown eyes moved toward Ellie’s face. He knew she wasn’t going to approach you willingly, even if the desperation to speak to you was written across her face in big, bold, lettering. So, he decided to be the devil — or the angel — on her shoulder.

“Go talk to her, make a move.”

Ellie wanted to laugh. The urge bubbled up in her throat like bile, and she let it go. Giving him the most genuine chuckle she’s given him all night, shaking her head from side to side. “I doubt she’s into girls.”

For some reason, considering that as an option made her mood dampen slightly. Anyone here could see the confidence that exuded from you, it lingered in your sweet perfume when you’d pass by people and she was pretty sure she was falling victim to it.

Shrugging, Jesse let his lips pull into a frown, urging her further. “You don’t know that.”

That was true, she thought as she shamelessly stared you down, her sweaty palms at her sides as she tried to inconspicuously wipe them on the denim of her jeans. Relenting, she felt her heart quicken as her feet carried her toward where you were standing under the neon lights of the bar.

You looked even prettier up close, your unique features burning into the part of her brain where long-term memory was, trying to soak you in before you noticed she was there.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Ellie was a goner. Your voice was sweet and sultry, low with a hint of fatigue weaved in between them as you kept your eyes down, your nails tapping against the glass in front of you.

Ellie cleared the blockage in her throat before answering. “Uh yeah, it was nice.”

Licking your lips, you still kept your head low but she could see you staring at her from the corner of your eyes. “You were staring.”

So you did notice her looking at you, which meant that you were indeed looking at her as you danced flawlessly on stage. At least she wasn’t going crazy.

Feeling the heat rise in her cheeks for what was the tenth time, she stuttered, trying to look anywhere, the confidence she once had evaporating as your light laughter reached her ears. “Everyone was staring.” She managed to spit, biting the inside of her cheek.

“I wasn’t looking at everyone else though…”

This made her smile, slightly bashful that you had said those words to her. Maybe you were just naturally a flirt, seeking thrills on sweet-talking club-goers only to leave them wanting more once you left. Oddly, she decided to entertain you by twisting her neck in your direction, the tattoo on her arm taking all the attention as your eyes burned into the skin peeking from under her jacket.

You continued, “You stick out like a sore thumb, but it’s okay. I like seeing new faces.” Sliding your glass in her direction, you watched with curiosity as she picked it up, swirling the contents in the glass, ice cubes clinking against each other before she let the rest of it slide down her throat.

Ellie wasn’t a big drinker and she was sure she’d feel the consequences of her choice in the morning, but being next to you — talking to you, was worth whatever hangover would greet her in the morning.

Pushing for a conversation, you asked her a question. “So, did your friends drag you here or something.”

Unbeknownst to you, that was exactly the case which she confirmed by nodding. A dry laugh came from her mouth, causing her to cringe at just how fake it sounded but you didn’t seem to mind. “Uh, yeah, that’s exactly it.”

You turned your body toward her fully, lifting at the strap of your lacey bra, your breasts moving upward just an inch but it didn’t go unnoticed by Ellie as her eyes landed on your chest for a fraction of a second before she was looking at your face again.

‘How’d you know.”

“You look uncomfortable. This isn’t your thing?”

With that question in mind, Ellie felt the vibration of the music in the soles of her sneaker-clad feet, so loud that her body hummed along with the music, the smell of weed burning the hairs in her nostrils as giggles bounced into her ears. “Not really, it’s my birthday so my friend brought me.”

Your eyes lit up, pearly white teeth contrasting against the dark tint of your lipstick. “Happy Birthday to you then,”

Ellie moved her mouth to reply with a small ‘thank you’ but the bartender appeared in front of the both of you before you asked her for a shot which she gave you quicker than she had taken Ellie’s drink order. She watched as you slid it in her direction like previously, a smirk decorating your lips as she made eye contact with you, putting the rim of the shot glass between her lips and letting it snake down her throat, the sensation of the burn causing a sharp intake of breath.

Goosebumps littered your exposed skin as you felt a sudden dull ache grow between your legs. The tension was bouncing between you, deflecting off of the invisible barrier that loitered, cracking just a tad before you backed away. “I have to go now, but it was nice talking to you…”

“Ellie.”

Giving her one last smile, you nodded. “I hope I’ll see you around soon.”

She waved with a hand, lips pursed as you turned on your heels and disappeared behind a metal door labeled ‘staff only’.

Usually, every girl Ellie’s ever had an interaction with ended up with her itching to move away from the situation she dragged herself into, jaw tight and teeth grinding together. It was different this time, probably because it was you. The fact that she had no clue what your name was, intrigued her beyond the point of no return. She found herself stuck on you despite having a conversation that lasted all but five minutes — which felt like thirty seconds.

Sighing, she made her way back to Jesse and his extremely drunk friends. Dean and Seth were shoving each other like fucking five-year-olds bickering over something stupid, their faces inches apart that Ellie felt like she was intruding on a private matter.

Sitting down again, Ellie let herself endure the two hours in silence next to Jesse as the night wasted away, more drinks being spilled, annoyance growing. She didn’t know how long she was glued to that seat when she made her way outside the double doors, breathing in the fresh air that she took for granted, sighing as she ran a hand through her short auburn hair, the rings on her fingers clattering together as she did so.

At this point, it was just nearly three in the morning. The dim street lights illuminated the empty street, the leaves on tree branches swaying with the wind in the direction it whipped in. An occasional leaf swayed to the ground as she sat on the curb, the skin of her palms peeling from the roughness of the concrete.

“I’m fucking serious, Willow.” Moving her head in the direction of the voice, her heart skipped a beat as you stood there with your jacket in hand. You have changed into more comfortable clothes. Your thong is now replaced by pink sweatpants, baggy as they hang low on your hips, and a tank top in place of your bra. Glancing down at your shoes, she could see the white Nike socks keeping your feet warm from the cold, a pair of slides on your feet. You were arguing with someone, that much was obvious.

The girl in front of you towered so high, it was almost threatening but you didn’t falter in your stance. Her eyes narrowed into slits as she spoke with malice. “You don’t think I’m not? You can come here and dance half naked for some fucking cash but can’t text me back.”

You scoffed, clicking your tongue while taking a small step back. “This is my job, I’m obligated to come here.” You gestured toward the club with a finger, wilding pointing before jabbing the same finger into her chest. “I don’t need to text you. You’re not my girlfriend, remember?”

Licking her lips, the gears turned in Ellie’s brain as she weighed her options. She could intervene, ask what the problem was, be your knight in shining armor — but she decided against it. Her palms grew sweaty once more as she continued to watch the interaction.

The girl breathed through her nose, nostrils expanding as she took in a deep breath before balling her fists at her side, something you didn’t seem to notice as you stared into her eyes with what could only be described as hatred.

“Fine, have it your way then.” She walked away, angrily stepping toward her car a couple of feet away from you, opening the door with such force that it nearly broke off. “Don’t expect me to take you back when you come crawling with those fake tears of yours.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving your jacket closer to your chest as you watched her get in her car, tires squealing loudly as she peeled out of the parking lot, leaving tracks on the pavement.

Turning around, you saw Ellie staring at you but still pressed against the curb as you walked over toward her, embarrassment creeping up on you in the form of warm cheeks and pressure behind your eyes. Tears.

Rubbing at your nose with the back of your hand, you gave her a tight-lipped smile before bending down to join her. “Did you see everything?”

She could see just how embarrassed you were as you pushed the nails on your finger toward your mouth, biting at them nervously. Nodding, she spoke lowly, “Yeah, was that your ex-girlfriend?”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you nodded curtly. “Sadly,”

Not knowing what else to say, she just sat there in silence, enjoying the quietness of the outside world with you next to her. The silence wasn’t awkward — quite the opposite as she no longer felt nervous or out of place as a couple of minutes passed, glances to each other being shared throughout.

Ellie was growing tired, eyes riddled with a hint of sleep and the extended feeling of desperation urged her to take herself home. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she pressed the side button as the screen lit up, the clock on her home screen reading 3:15 am before she turned it back off again. With a yawn, she lifted herself off the curb, stretching her limbs as some of them cracked at the sensation of no longer being hunched over uncomfortably.

Turning to look down at you, she saw that you were already staring up at her with doe eyes, lips etched into what seemed like a permanent frown. “Do you have a ride home?” The words left her mouth before she could process them and she wanted to smack herself right after.

Nodding, you jerked your head toward the black double doors, “My friend’s a bouncer, he usually walks me home since I don’t live far.” You don’t know why you said the last part, internally face-palming at the fact that you gave her a slight hint as to where you lived.

She didn’t know if it was appropriate to ask if she could walk you home. Even thinking about asking you sent her heart racing wildly inside the expanse of her chest. But, tonight was full of risks and she liked to consider herself a risk-taker — so she bit.

“I can walk you if you want.” She spoke quickly, rushing to explain her thought process. “I’m just saying because it’s like three in the morning and -”

You laughed loudly, slapping a hand over your mouth after it had left you. “I’m sorry, I'm just laughing because it’s kind of cute when you ramble.” You expressed, nodding as you rose to stand next to her causing her to scratch the back of her neck before tugging her bottom lip between her teeth. “But yes, I’d appreciate it if you did.” She promised that if she were able to turn into some form of mush, she would’ve in that very moment that you said her name.

The walk was nice, to Ellie at least, as you talked to her about your job and the other girls that worked there. She listened with interest although she wasn’t a big gossiper, asking you questions about certain things to let you know that she was listening to every word you said, hanging onto them. She saw how your steps slowed after walking around four blocks before coming to a complete stop in front of a lone door, the redness of the metal sticking out like a sore thumb in the middle of the street.

All she did was stand there with her hands in her jeans pockets as you fiddled with the knob, wedging your key inside before pushing it open.

“This is me.” You sighed, stepping inside the dark hallway, turning to face her as you leaned your cheek against the cool edge of your front door, fluttering your eyelashes. “Do you want to like… come in and have a drink? I know it’s almost four in the morning, but I feel bad for taking up your offer of walking me home since it’s your birthday and all.”

Ellie knew that if she declined your offer, she’d find herself on her bed, wishing she had taken you up on your offer for another drink. Like she said earlier, tonight was all about risks. She’d greedily take this one.

The nod she gave you sent shivers up your spine, her body moving inside your house as a means to shield herself from the chill night air. The temperature difference made her realize just how buzzed she was as she stood in the darkness of what she assumed was your living room.

From behind her, she could hear the little ‘plink’ of the light switch as you flicked it on, light flooding the room.

“You can place your coat here if you want.”

She turned, raising her eyebrows to see what you were talking about until she saw you hang your jacket on a hook near the door, a hand behind you to take hers from her. She shrugged it off quickly before handing it to you, watching as you stood on your toes to hang hers on the hook above the first one hammered into the wall.

Moving past her into the kitchen, she had no choice but to follow as you lit the room once more, the small island catching her attention immediately due to how messy it was.

As if you were reading her thoughts, you spoke with some embarrassment in your voice. “I would’ve cleaned up if I knew I was going to be bringing guests over.”

She eyed the items around the small area before shaking her head. “No, it’s okay, this allows me to scan for conversation topics.” Was it weird that she said that? Well, you didn’t seem to think so as you laughed heartily from your stomach, hands pulling at the fridge handle, browsing at the limited options of liquor.

“Uh… do you want a shot of tequila or a glass of Rosè?” She heard your muffled question to which she answered quickly.

“Tequila.”

“Alright, my kind of girl!” You exclaimed happily, setting the bottle down on the island and grabbing two shot glasses from one of your wooden cabinets.

Twisting the lid off, you poured the liquor into the small glasses which caused her to stand across from you, drunken eyes watching as you handed her one. She took it before staring into your eyes once again, hungrily this time, as you rubbed your thighs together under her gaze.

The both of you tilted your head back in unison, downing the shot quickly before you waltzed to where she was standing, eyes never leaving hers as you brought your face closer.

You didn’t know why you did what you did, and neither did she quite frankly as she stood, stiff and with ragged breaths as you closed the small gap between the two of you. She immediately returned the kiss, her back digging into the edge of the island counter, as you pressed against her, grabbing the shirt she was wearing, tugging it with need.

With a hand snaked around your back, she moved the other to grab the back of your neck, forcing your teeth to clash against hers as her tongue made its way into the deliciousness of your mouth. You moaned, entwining yours around hers wetly, her warm breath mixing with yours.

She met you all but four hours ago, and here she was, in your house kissing you as if her life depended on it.

Her hands moved to your ass, squeezing through the material of your sweatpants as hard as she could when you ground your hips against hers, wanting to dissipate the aching throb between your legs.

Noticing this, Ellie moved her hand to the front of your sweats, fingers dancing down your naval and onto your folds, opening them slightly to rub at your clit. You whined, pressing your forehead against hers with a hand on the nape of her neck, squeezing slightly. The action caused her to rub at your swelling bud even faster, keeping note of the way your face contorted into one of pleasure, your eyes in the back of your head.

“You like that, hm?” Seeing you like this, your body pressed against hers leaving little to no space to even breathe made her the wettest she’s ever been.

You only put your head in the crook of her neck as a response, teeth grazing at the skin below her ear as she shuddered, your slick pooling into her hand when a finger entered you, stretching you oh-so deliciously.

A sob ripped from your throat, your teeth digging into her neck as you bit to keep yourself from being too loud. Ellie couldn’t help the groan that escaped her when she felt you nipping at the base of her neck, stomach tying into knots at the thought of even just getting to fuck you.

“Oh, my g-god.” You stuttered, paying extra attention to the finger that was moving in and out of you quickly, grinding yourself onto it lower, with such haste that you just had to scream out.

“C’mon, baby, I know you can say more than that.” She slurred encouragingly into your ear, the hand on your ass pulling you even further into her as she shoved a second finger in without warning.

“Feels so fuckin’ good.” You were boarding on tipsy at this point, and not just on alcohol, but the feeling of her fingers as they wormed their way back inside you relentlessly.

You heard her chuckle, “That’s it, that’s right.”

Her breathing in your ear, chanting praises, the sensation of white heat building up in your stomach became overwhelming as you clenched around her fingers, releasing all your built-up sexual tension. Or so you thought because when Ellie slowly put her fingers that were previously inside you into her mouth and sucked them dry, you went almost animalistic.

“Sit on the counter.” You purred, eyelashes fluttering at her, your lids low with arousal and drunkenness.

Ellie wasn’t one to find herself obeying others, especially in sexual situations, but for some reason, she found herself doing exactly what you said with a slight tint to her cheeks that wasn’t just from the excessive amount of alcohol she had consumed throughout the night. This hangover was gonna be a bitch.

You loomed over her, arms on either side of her, palms pressed against the counter. “Let me taste you.”

The pattern of her breathing changed, making her chest rise up and down quickly before she uttered something almost incomprehensible to you. “I’m not the one usually receiving.”

The smile that you gave her was devious as your hands toyed with the button of her jeans, “Please?” You found it pathetic at the way you begged her, but you didn’t care, not one bit as she nodded her head, letting you unclasp the button before you tugged them off along with her black briefs, throwing them somewhere in the kitchen to find later. She felt the cool marble of the countertop against her bottom as she grasped at the edge of the counter with her ringed fingers, looking down at you with so much lust behind her eyes that you could’ve just come for the second time right then and there.

“I’m gonna make you feel good.” You hushed, kissing the inside of her thighs with fervor before swiping your tongue over her cunt, lapping at her juices as they leaked onto your tongue. You sucked harshly at her clit causing her to sob once, hands digging into your hair as she ground her hips into your face further.

“Mhm,” You moaned into her core, feeling her throb against your mouth, tongue flicking quickly at her clit, her arousal mixed with your spit sending her mind to an entirely different planet as her eyebrows furrowed in pleasure.

You were staring at her the entire time, your arousal wetting the material of your underwear, making them stick to your folds as you shuffled your hips to move into her more, feeling her shake above you.

“O - oh my god, fuck.” She whined, lip quivering as her legs shook, an orgasm so intense that she grew numb, letting her spend get sucked onto your tongue before you removed yourself, dabbing at the sides of your mouth with a finger.

Ellie Williams was completely fucked and love-drunk on you, and she didn’t even fucking know you.

#ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #ellie tlou #tlou part 2 #tlou2 #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams

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makeyoumine69 · 2 months

Text

Memory Reboot

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

SUMMARY: You work at P&P, and one day you come into Bateman's office and witness his breakdown. Your attempts to comfort him only increase his obsession with you, and without realizing it, you push this man to his limits. The outburst that finds you both in a club called the Tunnel will change your lives forever and irrevocably.

CONTAINS: Smut, angst, obsessive behavior, desperate-touch-starved Patrick, masturbating, oral sex (reader receiving), aggressive foreplay, dirty talk, body worship, teasing, biting, drug usage, pet names.

WORDS: 3k

SONG REC: VØJ, Narvent - Memory Reboot

A/N: This is for my dear @iron-flavored-lipgloss! It was such a pleasure for me to write this for you! Enjoy!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST] 🪓 [EDIT]

gif by @tvandfilm

Patrick Bateman. What kind of a mess was this man? Chaotic, impulsive, pathetic? Or all of the above?

Smirking, you went to his office to deliver some documents you needed him to sign, but when you got there, you noticed that Jean — his lovely blonde assistant — was absent and the door to his office was suspiciously half open. It was strange, to say the least, but you just shrugged your shoulders and stood there for a while when you heard a loud thud coming through the door — the sound almost made you jump in surprise. 'What the hell?' You wondered as you approached the door, turning around to see if Jean was coming, but there was no sign of her. With measured steps you got closer to the hole in the open door and just peeked in out of curiosity, but the scene you saw was not what you expected — Bateman, all flushed and covered in sweat, was storming around his office, his hands desperately fumbling with his tie as if it was choking him.

Your reaction was quick, and you didn't even notice as you opened the door and stepped inside. "Bateman? Are you okay?"

The man stopped shaking the moment he heard your voice and leaned down on his desk. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I came to get your signature on some of my docs when I heard you crying,” you grinned, watching his face go pale. "What's wrong, Bateman? Did you miss your facial?" The way he balled his hands made you laugh. "But really, did something happen?"

"Yes," Patrick replied, looking at you and running his hand through his disheveled hair. "I mean...no...nothing happened…" You saw his lips tremble a little each time he spoke. "Gimme the docs."

Frowning in confusion, you pulled out a napkin and handed it to him instead, meeting his scornful gaze. "You're sweating…” You placed the white piece of cloth on his desk, only now noticing a small jar that you were sure was full of pills. "Maybe I should ask Jean to bring you some coffee? You look really sick..."

"No!" Bateman suddenly blurted out, pointing his finger at you. "I asked Jean to take the day off..."

"Hey, hey, relax," you raised your hands defensively. "Relax, I was just trying to help."

Slowly, you placed the folder of documents on his wooden desk, which he grabbed almost immediately, and your hands touched for a brief moment, and Bateman didn't flinch, and neither did you.

"Take a seat." Patrick muttered incoherently.

"What?"

"Sit," he repeated irritably. "And wait."

His tumultuous behavior actually frightened you, but you did as he said and sat down in the chair opposite him. ‘My God, he really is mental, Tim was right.’

"What are these pills? Some vitamins?" You tried to keep the conversation alive, not even knowing why, as you watched his long, thin fingers floating across the pages.

Your question made him stop and look up at you. "That's none of your business, (y/n). I asked you to sit and wait, not ask me stupid questions."

‘Why does he look so cute when he's so angry?’ The thought brought a smile to your face, but then you zipped up your mouth theatrically and Bateman's office went silent for a while. And you used it to admire his perfect jawline, even though his brown hair was messy now, it looked so inviting to touch anyway.

"Is that all?" Bateman asked suddenly, arching his eyebrows and interrupting your train of thought.

"Uh, what?"

A prominent line appeared on Patrick's forehead — a testament to his annoyance. "Are you deaf or something?"

"Lemme see them," you pointed at the documents. "I want to make sure you put your cute sign on every page." Your playful tone made the line between Patrick's eyebrows even more noticeable. "I don't want to come back here."

Bateman didn't even try to jab back, his face still pale and sweaty, his eyes nothing but dark voids — oh, how fucking empty they were. Sighing heavily, Patrick raised his gaze when he heard the chair creak as you got up and walked around his desk. The sudden cut in the distance between the two of you was something Patrick didn't seem to be ready for, as his hands nervously gripped the armrests, but you pretended not to notice.

"We all feel down sometimes," you murmured over his ear, literally sensing the tension radiating from his body. "And that's okay." Placing your hand on his broad shoulder, you leaned down to look at the documents, surreptitiously inhaling the scent of his perfume mixed with his sweat. ‘Fuck, what am I doing?’

"I didn't know you had a part-time job as a therapist," he grumbled, examining your palm, wondering if he was going to kill you here and now, or keep you in here forever. "Listen, I have a reservation at Barcadia..."

"Mmm, Barcadia? Really?"

Bateman nodded and finally removed your hand. "Yes, I'm having lunch with Coutrney."

"I wonder what Luis thinks of these lunches with his fiancé." You picked up the folder and stepped back from his armchair. "You don't feel guilty about sleeping with Coutrney behind his back, do you?"

Gritting his perfectly white teeth, the brown-haired man abruptly got up from his desk and stormed toward you, surely intending to yell at you or say something rude, but the moment he stopped directly across from you and your eyes met, Bateman's expression suddenly became lost and confused. "Just stop," he finally managed to mutter. "Stop poking around in my fucking head…" As you noticed his pupils widening, things were no longer funny to you. "Understand?"

‘Well, maybe turning it into a joke is not a bad plan,’ you hummed and nodded. "Sure, Bateman," you sneered a little nervously. "I'm just reading this book Timothy gave me," you slowly turned and walked to the door. "The book about Human Psychology." That was surely a joke, but judging by the serious look Patrick gave you, he didn't seem to get it.

"Tim gave you... a book?" He repeated, frowning in confusion and disbelief.

When you opened the door, you paused for a second, wanting to say something smart at the end. "Oh yeah. Why don't you ask him about it? Maybe he can recommend some books about... human relationships or something." And with that, you smiled in satisfaction at seeing Bateman's face quiver with anger before you left his office, leaving him with a raging tempest in his chest.

Later that day, Patrick couldn't sleep because his mind was so full of different thoughts, but the only thing they had in common was that they were all connected to you. You, you, you. The sound of running water echoed off the marble walls of his lavish bathroom as Bateman stood in the shower, enjoying the way the strong streams of cold water hit his back. Huffing, Patrick desperately scrubbed his skin as if it would help him get rid of the thoughts of you that haunted him the day he first met you — you were so cheeky, so sweet, everyone loved you and wanted to hang out with you. How fucking cute. Patrick groaned as he felt a throb at the base of his hard cock, God, he felt like it was hard all the time and no sex could help him with that because all those people, they weren't you.

"Argh, fuck," he groaned as he finally allowed himself to touch his twitching dick and give it a few strokes.

"F-fuck..." Bateman pumped his length rhythmically, recoiling at the memories of today, the way you put your hand on his shoulder, the warmth of your breath on the back of his neck. And what would it feel like if you had placed your hand on his chest, or run it over his abdomen and then down?

"Uh, a-ahhh," the man moaned louder, shaking uncontrollably from the orgasm building at the base of his spine. "(Y/n), your hands feel so good on me, oh-shit…" Patrick had to lean against the shower wall as his legs buckled from the intense waves of ecstasy as he cummed with your name on his trembling lips, the water still running down his sculpted body, washing his cum off, but he was still so hard.

"Reading books on psychology," Bateman chuckled, tilting his head. "What an idiot." His nervous giggle bounced across the shower, but soon the laughter turned to a low wail. "Pathetic…”

Time flowed like sand through your fingers, and you couldn't even remember how many days had passed since your visit to Bateman's office, but since then something had changed between the two of you, but you both couldn't understand what exactly had changed, or maybe you didn't want to try to understand. To be fair, it was so fucking annoying that when you found out that Tim, David, Craig and Patrick were going to the Tunnel, you saw it as your chance to dot the T's, no matter how the evening would end.

When you arrived at the club, it was so crowded that it took you a while to find the group of yuppies sitting on the plush couches next to the dance floor, jamming to the music and drinking their cocktails.

As you approached, Craig was the first to spot you. "Woah, woah, look who it is!" His cheeky remark caused everyone to look at you, including Bateman, whose teeth were visibly clenched around his cigar at that moment.

"Hey, guys! Enjoying the music I see?" You smiled, fixing your hair briefly from the sudden rush of panic. ‘Damn it, stay calm! Why am I so nervous?’

Timothy winked at you and raised his glass. "Did you come alone or..." he stopped abruptly when he noticed someone behind your back. "Hey, is that Paul Allen?"

‘Shit, shit, shit. That was so much easier in my head than it is in reality.’ You chewed on your cheek, and while the men were guessing whether they really saw Paul Allen or not, a sudden idea came to your mind, but you hated it before you even started to bring it to life. "Do you have a gram?" You asked without thinking, hoping they would say no.

"I do," Bateman's voice came out of nowhere and you almost screamed in your head, but you had to keep your composure. "But you will owe me." As he said this, you came closer to where he was sitting with a playful smile on your face and took a seat next to him. "Wait, we are not going to do coke here."

"Hey, why not?" David chuckled and took out his business card holder. "What's wrong with it?

"Oh God, look at that cheeky bastard," Craig pressed a palm to his face. "Van Patten decided to be a bad boy today."

The men laughed and high-fived each other before Bateman whispered in your ear, making you almost jump. "Follow me." Those two simple words made you obey like you were under a spell.

As the two of you made your way to the bathroom where people in the Tunnel usually did coke, your heart pounded to the heavy beat of the music, or even faster. Patrick went first, his elegant silhouette like a shining star in the midnight sky — so eye-catching and mesmerizing that it wasn't surprising that a lot of people turned around to look at him, but you didn't care as soon you would be alone with him. ‘Just you and me, Bateman.’

The bathroom was surprisingly empty today. The last time you were there, you had to wait almost half an hour to get into the free stall, but now luck seemed to be on your side. As you stepped into one, Patrick pulled out his business card holder and rolled the $100 bill; you did the same, watching as Bateman made lines of coke with his platinum AmEx card.

"I have to say, you look much better." You commented briefly.

The man was about to lean over to snort the white powder, but your words made him freeze. "Huh," he chuckled abruptly and brushed away a stray lock of hair. "I was just reading some books about... relationships," Patrick grimaced, drawing out the last word with a cocky grin. "It changed my mind." Before you could say anything, Patrick was snorting the coke, holding the rolled-up bill to his nostril while holding another down with his thumb.

"Very funny," you mumbled, tapping the rolled note against the inside of your palm. "Where was your wit when I walked into your office a week ago?"

Bateman coughed quietly and threw his head back for a moment to clean his nose. "What does this have to do with anything?"

Rolling your eyes, you moved closer to his business card holder to inhale the white line of powder that had been left there, your mood was already off, and at some point you even began to regret coming to Tunnel tonight. Though it wasn't your first time doing coke, you felt so dizzy as the drug began to intoxicate your system that you almost fell to the floor if you hadn't bumped into Bateman's chest, leaving a white stain on the lapel of his Valentino suit.

"Hey! What the fuck!" Patrick blurted out, ready to push you off, but the way you grabbed his shoulders stirred something strange inside him, something he was fighting all the time. "Have you ever done coke?"

You coughed several times, blinked nervously, and only then did you let him go. "Sorry..." you gasped and leaned against the wall of the stall behind your back. "It's been a while."

"You stained my jacket."

"God! I'm sorry, okay?"

"No," Bateman replied, brushing off. "Not okay."

"What do you mean?" You asked confusedly, batting your eyelashes and breathing heavily.

Patrick dropped his head for a second before looking at you again, your faces dangerously close. "I'm not okay."

You licked your lips nervously. "Why?"

Instead of saying anything, the man pulled you against his massive frame, giving you no time to react as his hot mouth covered yours; it was difficult to call it a kiss, it was more like the act of claiming — his strong arms trapping you between the wall and his muscular body while yours hovered motionlessly like whips. When Bateman released you, he tugged at your lower lip and licked it with a wet, obscene sound. "Because...because of this."

Panting, you stood in shock for a moment before nodding and touching your wet lips. "Yes," you put both hands on his chest, exploring it slowly but boldly, causing him to close his eyes for a second. "I don't think I'm okay either." After whispering it in his ear, you slid your tongue down his bare neck, right over the mole, and when you heard him grunting, you lowered your hand to his belt, playing teasingly with the buckle.

"Lower," Bateman husked, and when you didn't listen, he grabbed your hand and lowered it himself — the outline of his fully erected cock eliciting a muffled moan to break out of your cramped throat. "Ahhh-fuck."

"God, you're so needy," you murmured against his neck, busy undoing his belt. "So touchy."

It only took a few seconds for you to undo his pants and let his taut dick pop out of his underwear. ‘Mmhhm, his cock is so perfect, just as I expected,’ you smiled to yourself, and in the next moment you were stroking his throbbing length, smearing his slick pre-cum around his swollen tip without any shame or fear of getting caught.

"(Y/n)," Patrick hissed as he pressed you against the wall with his weight, his hands sneaking down your back to grope your ass. "Be quiet," the man ordered when he heard your soft moans. "Keep quiet and undo this." Bateman pointed to your bottom and just the thought of what he was about to do to you almost made you cum.

"Why?" You gave him a foxy grin and tightened your grip on his dick, forcing Patrick to hold his breath.

"Just...just do what I say..."

"Okay, honey."

"Don't call me that!" He uttered and squeezed your ass painfully, your bodies grinding against each other, making you hot and sweaty.

"Patrick..." You attempted to kiss him, but he turned away.

In one swift motion, the man reached your neck and aggressively nipped at the throbbing artery. "Shut up! Just shut up and undo this fucking..."

You didn't let him finish his tantrum as you caught his lips with yours, increasing the tempo of the jacking, and you could feel he was so damn close. But since he was so insistent, you undid the lower part of your garment, and everything that happened next was like one of your recent dreams. Bateman, flushed and panting, crouched down, his cock slipping out of your grasp, but the next second his fierce mouth found its way between your legs as he began to suck on your sensitive flesh with sheer greed and passion, not forgetting to pump his dick and growl softly against your skin.

"Ohh, Pat-Patrick," you gasped, tugging at his brown hair, dishevelling it, but neither of you cared. "I'm gonna cum if you don't stop..."

"Mmm-fuck, you taste so sweet," Patrick pressed his face closer to your core, his free hand nailing you to the wall to hold you in place. "You're shaking like a fucking whore."

Chucking, you yanked at his hair a little harder. "And you're devouring me like a starved man, are you starved, Bateman? How long have you been... so fucking s-starved?" You hiccupped as he redoubled his efforts, lapping at your crotch and jerking himself off. "F-fuck, I'm... I'm gonna..."

The loud footsteps made you both stop in your tracks, and when you heard people coming into the bathroom, you stalled completely, only to quickly fix your clothes and then pretend nothing had happened as you left the stall. Later, as you were washing your hands, Patrick stood behind you and you met his eyes in the mirror. "Are you leaving or..." You asked briefly as he handed you your twisted bill.

"Yeah," Bateman straightened his jacket and wiped his mouth with a paper towel before opening the door. "You better forget about it. Believe me."

‘And now I feel like I need a memory reboot.’

Chapter 2 is here! 💗✌

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines #patrick bateman x male reader #gn reader

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lecsainz · 9 months

Text

main thing

request: charles + a famous actress who is about 2 years older than charles and has a daughter from another relationship, but the biological father is not in the picture (or he is an idiot)

pairings: charles leclerc x actress!reader

authors note: man, it took me almost two days to write this, ugh! hate getting that writer's block in the middle of something I start. I was like, "come on brain, why you gotta do me like that?" but nah, it wouldn't cooperate. so frustrating!

✩. . . masterlist !

PART TWO

Age Gap Romance Takes a Dark Turn, Leaving Y/N Struggling with Broken Heart and Baby Daughter

By TMZ Entertainment News

Hollywood's buzzing with the latest shocking breakup, and this time it involves rising starlet Y/N Y/L/N and her much older ex-boyfriend, a prominent music mogul. As the dust settles, insiders reveal that the split was anything but amicable, leaving the 28-year-old actress devastated and facing heartache alone with their baby daughter, Sophie.

Sources close to the couple paint a picture of a once fairy-tale romance that crumbled under the weight of immense pressures and a significant age gap. Y/N and her ex, whose name we won't disclose for legal reasons, initially captured the public's attention with their whirlwind love affair.

Despite the initial bliss, the relationship quickly took a tumultuous turn, with the insider sharing, "It was a rollercoaster from the beginning. The age difference played a big role in their clashes, but Y/N was deeply in love and believed they could make it work."

However, cracks in their love story started to show, and rumors of disagreements and heated arguments circulated throughout Tinseltown. Our sources indicate that the final straw came when the music mogul reportedly abandoned Y/N and their infant daughter, Sophie, leaving her shattered and blindsided.

"It was like he flipped a switch," another insider revealed. "He just walked away, leaving Y/N and Sophie to pick up the pieces. It was a shock to everyone, even those closest to them."

The breakup was described as "dramatic and emotional," with Y/N left grappling with the aftermath of his sudden departure while caring for her baby daughter. Friends of the actress confirm that she's going through an incredibly tough time, trying to navigate single motherhood while nursing a broken heart.

"It's heartbreaking to see Y/N going through this," said one close friend. "She's a strong woman, but this has taken a toll on her. Sophie is her world, and she's solely focused on being the best mom she can be for her daughter."

As for the music mogul's actions, sources claim that he has shown little remorse for the way things ended. "He's been dismissive and unapologetic," one industry insider revealed. "It's like he's moved on without a second thought, leaving Y/N to pick up the pieces."

For now, Y/N is surrounding herself with a support system of friends and family, relying on their love and encouragement during this challenging time. Hollywood is buzzing with the news of the breakup, and fans around the world are sending messages of love and strength to the young actress.

As this Hollywood drama unfolds, the world will be watching to see how Y/N navigates her way through heartbreak and single motherhood. We'll continue to bring you the latest updates on this gripping story, so stay tuned for more.

ynupdates

liked by charlesleclerc , selenagomez , and 28.879 others

ynupdates sun, sand, and summer vibes with yourinstagram and the girls! beach day in monaco is lit! no room for negativity here – just good times, laughter, and making memories with our faves y/n and selenagomez! and of course, little sophie is the cutest beach babe ever!

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selenagomez ❤️❤️❤️

f1addiction CHARLES WHAT YOU DOING HERE??

ynmoves my girl looks so happy 😁

ylngomez i LOVE this friendship

lecslerccc charles that’s is a move?

saaaainz he just liked is nothing to worry 😭

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vivalabunbun · 1 year

Text

Sweet Sweet Nothings

Summary: The sweet lull of normalcy in an unconventional marriage

Word Count: 7K

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem! Reader, Fluff, this is just pure fluff, Smut, NFSW, MDNI, Omegaverse AU, A/B/O relationships, Modern AU, Alpha! Alhaitham, Beta! Reader, breeding, biting, established relationship, TW: Very vague mentions of gender dysphoria (of your secondary gender), TW: pregnancy and birth, Protective! Alhaitham, Jealous! Alhaitham

Authors Note: This isn’t much of a story, think of it as a collection of sweet nothings and domestic life with Alhaitham and the Sumeru cast after this. I just felt like I had to give them fluff after that slow burn. Enjoy!

Teal-orange eyes snapped towards the ticking clock on his oak desk, the time read 5 pm. Alhaitham’s duties were over for the day, now he had more pressing matters to attend to. Swift hands gathered up the papers scattered across the dark wood, stacking them into a neat pile before his body pushed against his plush seat. The golden glint of the ring on his finger only spurred him on to quickly exit his office.

“Hey! Alhaitham are you leaving work now? Great, how about we grab some drinks with-”

“No. I’m busy.” He bluntly dismissed his blond senior.

A firm hand snatched up his blazer that had been thrown across the back of his seat, the other flicked off the desk lamp.

“Oi! Your senior is inviting you to a-”

“If you have a request you need approved then please leave it on my desk, I’ll look over it once I return back to the office on Monday.” Alhaitham skirted past the blond’s still frame at the doorway, paying no mind to the disgruntled scrunch on Kaveh’s face. His mind was focused on more pressing matters.

–

“And then the brat just WALKS past me as if I were some dust on the ground! Could you believe that?” Kaveh thumps his glass back onto the tavern table, a small splash of wine lapped over the side.

Tighnari took another big swig from this glass, his ears weren’t drunk enough to handle the tumultuous complaining of the blond. Cyno was only half-heartedly listening, ruby eyes trained on the brand-new deck of cards he had spent the week building in his hands.

Yes, it is just a typical Friday afternoon. Colleagues gathered at Lambad’s Tavern, congregating at an outdoor table and enjoying the nice wine and early Spring air. Although more often than not, there would only be three seats filled instead of four.

“Just what is so important that they trifle over common courtesy? In the world of job opportunities, networking and connections are a critical part of getting higher up the chain. Just how did that shrewd man get that promotion?” Kaveh’s face already had the tall tale signs of a drunken glow.

“Well, it’s not really that out of character for him. People have always found his actions grating, but his efficiency at his work can’t be denied.” Tighnari rested his head on his hand.

“There’s been a change in the head secretary lately.” Cyno asserted, eyes now trained somewhere else.

“Oh? How so? He’s the same old crude man.” Kaveh dismissed.

Cyno motioned with his eyes at a sight just behind the two other men. Two confused heads turned to follow his gaze. Nearly choking on their drinks at the scene they were now witnessing.

There stood Alhaitham’s towering figure walking hand in hand with yours, bags filled with books and miscellaneous trinkets carried in his other. What made the men uncomfortable was the uncanny softness dawned on the stoic secretary’s face, as his teal eyes focused on you.

His Beta wife was pressing her body against his arm as she spoke close to his ear, pointing at random stalls and vendors. Alhaitham leaned down to hear you through the chattering crowd, making sure to maneuver your bodies through the bustling streets.

The three men didn’t know what to make of the scene in front of them as the couple walked out of sight, still holding each other close. Kaveh wonders if the wine being served today was stronger than usual. However, the three unwed men now got their answer to Alhaitham’s sudden full schedule.

The table of bachelors called for more wine. Maybe to cleanse their palette of the sour taste of jealousy.

–

“Have you seen Alhaitham today? I’ve been trying to hand him this paperwork since Friday.” Kaveh approached the head lawyer at the water cooler, the weekend was now over and it was now Monday, and the secretary was nowhere to be seen.

“Hm? The head secretary applied to use his paid vacation time off. It was approved last Friday.” Cyno took a sip from the paper cup.

“Huh?” The papers fluttered out of the architect’s slack hands, jaw agape.

His junior truly was trying to annoy him to death. That conniving bastard Alhaitham.

Fontaine was very different from Sumeru, with different types of foods, shops, and culture. It was quite exciting the first week of your late honeymoon to duck into every shop along the city streets. You discovered that your husband was fluent in the language, anything you pointed at he would translate for you without hesitation. However, the wonder of sightseeing faded within just a few days, like the true homebodies you were, there was a silent agreement to spend the rest of the time in the grand honeymoon suite.

The hotel Alhaitham booked was the most luxurious one Fontaine had to offer. You will have to blame this decision on the generous amount of financial freedom granted by a pharmaceutical payout. It was only fair in Alhaitham’s mind, you worked very hard during the rut brought on by faulty inhibitors. Hard work should be rewarded, so he decides you should be indulged with the best room service, fancy baths, and thousand-count silk sheets.

How you spent your time in the suite was really no different than how you would spend it in Sumeru. Alhaitham was laying down on the silk sheets, back slightly propped up by down feather-filled pillows, unwinding with a book in his hand.

“Ah…Ah!... Ah… Making your wife do all the work while on vacation? You’re such a terrible husband, Haitham.” You stilled your hips, hands propping yourself up along his toned body.

“Mm? You were really enjoying yourself, I didn’t want to interrupt.” There was a teasing tilt in his voice, teal eyes never looking away from the sentences printed as his other hand rubbed circles into your hip.

From this angle he reached deeper than usual, making you feel so much fuller. Your walls were clenching down, trembling with pleasure from the stretch and thick tip poking that one spongey spot. A while ago you had abandoned your book in favor of bouncing up and down on your husband’s lap. It was your late honeymoon, after all, there was almost five years' worth of time to make up for.

You knew your husband was just teasing you, but your lips couldn’t stop a pout from forming. You shifted a bit more on top of his god-like physique, pressing his tip deeper against that sweet little spot deep inside. Wandering hands made their way to grope at his plush pectorals followed by your pouting face, eyes trained on the book your husband was so engrossed by.

“Hmph…” A displeased huff left your lips, it was absolutely adorable to him.

“Is something the matter?” The corner of his lip was upturned just the slightest bit.

“It’s our honeymoon and yet my husband is already having an affair with a book.” You playfully sulked into his chest.

“My, I never knew my wife was the jealous type.” Finally, he snapped the book closed, playful eyes gazing into yours.

“I guess you learned something new then.” You gently confiscated the book from his hand, placing it farther away on the large bed.

Alhaitham gave a hum of acknowledgment, both hands now firmly seizing the sides of your waist. Steadying your body before following it up with a solid snap of his hips. You pressed your face harder against his chest, muffling the moan that was suddenly forced out of you.

“Isn’t this what you wanted? Why are you so quiet now?” His hips set a rhythm, slow and deep.

His thick length dragged along your slick walls in all the right ways, you could feel every inch outlined inside you. Each roll of his hips gently lifted your body up before accompanying it back down. Your mouth fell open, breathing out soft moans against his warm skin. The smell of lust hung heavy in the air of the spacious room. But you wanted more, this slow lovemaking couldn’t satisfy the greed deep within.

“Mmm… More…”

“More?” His pace escalates just the slightest bit.

The sloppy sounds of your connecting bodies were louder now, with each in and out of your slick cunt like purrs of pleasure. He was hitting that spot that brings shooting pleasure throughout your nerves. Still, maybe it's because your expectations have been set a bit high from your first taste, but your greed wanted more.

“More~” You breathed out, face now pressed into the crook of his neck.

“Mmm, I think I know what my lovely wife wants.” A hand supports the back of your head, smoothing out the hair.

Swiftly you got turned under him, his board frame now looming above, that handsome smirk on his face. He rested your head gently on the dawn pillows, as your arms wrapped around his neck pulling him down closer to you. The combination of his weight on top of you and how heavy he felt inside your sobbing cunt sent shivers up your spine. Yes, this is what you wanted.

Leaving the crook of his neck, your lips chased after his. Alhaitham couldn’t help but let out a small huff, you were quite needy today. His lips captured yours in a deep kiss, shallowing all your noises. He shall spoil you, it was your honeymoon after all.

In this position, he had much better footing and grasp on your waist. Meaning the strength and pace of his hips slamming into yours increased to the rhythm you desired. Moans were flowing out like water from your mouth, eyes teary with lust. The claps of your bodies echo through the room, he would pull out to the tip then slam back in. Just the way you liked it.

Teal eyes observed your loose face, the rolling back of your eyes signaling that the knot was about to come undone. But before he lets you reach cloud nine, you have to answer a question that he’s been pondering.

“Would you rather have consistent pleasure spread evenly throughout the year… or four days of nonstop, mind-melting pleasure then nothing for the rest?” Alhaitham asked right up against your ear, making your skin bristle.

You felt his hips roll back to their slow methodical pace. Oh, he wasn’t going to let you taste sweet release until you paid the toll of his curiosity. Really, your husband can be so mean sometimes. You let out a small whine, trying to roll your hips into his but his firm hold prevented such action.

“Answer the question, sweetheart.” Alhaitham continued to egg you on, clearly enjoying your displeased whines.

“Why can’t I have both?” You muttered close to his own ears, tightening your embrace around him to offset the embarrassment creeping up on you.

At your response his hips stilled, stoic teal eyes gazing at you as you looked away. You didn’t see the smirk that returned to his features.

“Goodness, my wife is insatiable.” He dragged his length out fully.

Before you could even let out another whine at the loss, he returned it fully inside of you. Filling out your unexpecting walls again pounding against that spongey patch, making your back arch up and toes curl.

“AH!” Your body was pressed impossibly close to his.

“I wonder if I should keep you at home, confined to the bedroom for your sake.” His hot breath ghosted over your ear.

He was pistoning in and out now, fat tip abusing your sweet spot just the way you wanted it. Your walls were clenching around his girth just like how your arms were holding onto him to ground your sanity. The searing white flashes of pleasure were shooting up through your nerves, the edge was approaching fast. The filthy fantasy Alhaitham was painting in your mind only served to quicken the process.

“All you have to do is be a good wife, and welcome me home with open legs. How about that?” Alhaitham pressed sweet kisses against your neck, a far cry from the filth that was leaving his tongue.

You felt his teeth brush against the side of your neck before they clamped down. That was what unraveled the knot inside you. Your ankles hooked together as your hips pushed closer to his. Back arching almost painfully, bodying trembling and eyes rolling back. Alhaitham let out a small hiss at the tightness of your walls contracting. He wasn’t going to last long if you continued to be this impossibly tight.

He could tell from the way your eyes were still seeing the back of your head you were still in the midst of your orgasm. This meant that Alhaitham was free to chase after his own release now. So he does. His length continues to pound against your quivering walls, pushing through the tight clenches. The extra gush of slick helped to accelerate his movements further. Sloppy slapping of skin against skin, he could feel that his tip was probably red and swollen from his calculated delayed release.

Pressing his pulsing tip right up against your cervix, the tension inside him finally snapped. Flooding your walls with thick, warm release. Your body instantly responded, walls beginning to twitch and convulse more, trying to milk every last drop. Alhaitham panted against your neck, sucking on the soft skin from time to time as he held your body close.

“Mmm… Don’t mark up my neck. I brought all these pretty dresses to wear and now I can’t wear anything but turtle necks.” Your fingers tussled through his messy ash locks. It seems like you’ve returned from cloud nine.

“You can just wear them in the room.” He pressed another kiss to your neck.

Before you could voice your complaints your husband buries your face into the crook of his neck, a silent invitation. Who were you to reject? The sensation of your teeth clamping down onto his smooth skin, leaving deep indentations seems to appease his primal urges noted by the low growl that rumbles in his chest.

“Would you like to take a bath, habibti?” Gentle finger caressed your face.

You hummed in confirmation, nuzzling into his touch more. The calm, sweet lull of intimacy washed over the room. Passion satisfied, for now at least.

“You smell.” Dehya scrunched up her nose.

You gave a deadpan stare at your Alpha friend beside you. You recently returned from your trip to Fontaine, meeting up with your friends to show them the gifts you had brought back.

The weather wasn’t that hot today so you definitely weren’t sweating, and your outfit was also fresh from the clothesline. You even took a quick shower before you went to the agreed-upon cafe. You brought your arm up to your nose for a quick sniff, nothing smelled particularly off.

“I smell normal.” You raised an eyebrow at her.

“No, you smell like you just rolled around in the forest.” She retorted.

Now you were confused, glancing at Candace and Nilou. Wait, why does it look like the two were trying to hold back their laughter? What is going on? You just wanted to give them their souvenirs.

“What Dehya is trying to say is… it seems like you’ve gotten closer to your husband.” Candace rested her elbows on the table as she leaned in.

Oh. They meant that. A scarlet flush instantly engulfed your cheeks, a silent admission of the truth. All at once you saw the gleam in your friends’ eyes, and they started hounding you for the details.

The tea served at the cafe was always brewed to perfection and the leaves were of the highest quality. However, your friends were much more interested in the new development of your marriage.

–

You were drained. You loved your friends, you really do. But spilling the tame details of the budding romance between you and your husband with burning cheeks sure depleted your battery. In a way, they deserved to know, supporting you for over five years throughout the murkier times.

At the moment, you were curled up on the couch against your husband’s chest. Fingers fiddling with the ring that matched yours resting on his finger, as his attention was trained on the book in his other hand. It wasn’t time for your ritual quiet reading session, so you felt it was appropriate to quietly enjoy some skinship. Alhaitham didn’t seem to mind.

“Haitham.” You began.

“Mm?”

“What is your scent like?” You continued to fiddle with his wedding ring.

“According to your friends, a tree.” His deep voice replied, never once looking up.

“Mmm.” Your lips pressed into a line, still toying with the gold band.

You had that look on your face, Alhaitham notes. Demons don’t disappear so easily, even at the start of a new chapter, they will continue to cling to your shadow. If he could, Alhaitham would strangle those devils with his own bare hands. But he couldn’t. So instead, he shall always be there to pull you out from the ice-cold water back to the warm shore.

He flips the book over, placing it faced down on the arm of the couch. His full attention was now on you as he tenderly grasped your hand, pulling you closer. He pressed his nose against your neck, senses searching through the thick layer of opulent woodiness.

The faint sweet hints of padisarah pudding mixed with the bath products and laundry detergent you shared were guarded by that layer. The scent that he recognizes as yours, the scent he shares with you.

“I smell like you. That is the only scent I will recognize as mine.” His teal eyes peered up at you.

You were silent for a moment, hand halting but still grasping the ring.

“Pfft. Have you been reading my old novels again?” You couldn’t suppress the small laugh and smile.

“Did you want me to?”

“No.”

You intertwined your fingers with his, rings clinking together, a physical show of a bond.

Alhaitham rested his head in the crook of your neck, continuing to breathe in your essence. The scent of you always seems to lull him into a drowsy state of comfort. Yet, it wasn’t heavy nor did it cloud his thoughts, so he could always think clearly of you. Yes, this is the scent he adores.

“Have you been doing something to make my Alpha and Omega coworkers avoid me?”

“...”

“What a weird Alpha you are.” You rubbed your cheek against your husband's resting face.

You’ve been sluggish lately, Alhaitham observed. More often than not, he found himself carrying your sleeping frame back to bed after you fell asleep curled up on the sofa. Book in your limp hands. Your alarm would also be ringing longer than usual, you used to be able to turn it off by the first ring so as to not disturb him from his slumber. You knew he was a light sleeper.

As he took a bite of the dinner you had just cooked he notes the blander taste. It was your usual style to throw in as many spices as you pleased. It was the start of flu season, and Alhaitham noted the cough that’s been going around in his office. However, he had a different hypothesis he wanted to share with you tonight. He watched as you chewed then shallowed.

“Habibti, have you taken a pregnancy test lately?” His voice was calm, tone stable.

Your fork clattered against your plate as you stared at him starstruck, eyes wide and mouth agape. This was why he waited, it wouldn’t be good to have food go down the wrong pipe. He maintained a neutral expression, staring into your eyes to read the emotions that were running rampant behind them.

“N-no… but…” A furrow formed between your brow as you brought a hand up your mouth. A habit of yours when you were deep in thought.

The two of you were careful. Pills are taken at specific times. Morning after teas were always in stock around the house, either he brews it for you right after a moment of passion or you would drink it in the morning. However, Alhaitham wasn’t startled. He understands that even with birth control there was always a risk.

Dinner was swiftly finished, dishes piled in the sink for later, there were more pressing matters to attend to. You were currently in the bathroom with the pregnancy test he had picked up on his way home from work. Alhaitham was leaning his back on the wall beside the bathroom door. He was trying to calculate when you last had your time of the month, or when exactly you began to behave differently.

The singing hinges of the bathroom door pulled him out of his thoughts. You had that look on your face again. Alhaitham didn’t even need to look at the test in your hands to know the results, two red lines. From how frozen your stance was in the door frame, he already knew what thoughts were running through your mind.

Children were never planned nor discussed, at the beginning the two of you were much more focused on your careers and enjoying your free time. That is to say, you greatly enjoyed the double income and no kids life. However, there was now a fork in the road. The hands holding the test were now trembling. Alhaitham quickly brought you into a tender embrace, to silence the wild thoughts before they begin to torment you.

“Whatever your decision may be, I will support it unconditionally. Take your time.” Rubbing a small circle into your back.

You were silent but your arms wrapped around his torso, resting your head against his shoulder. Quiet reading time was a bit more quiet than usual tonight.

–

It was now a Saturday night, Alhaitham had already situated himself on his spot on the couch. There was already a book in his hands, but he didn’t open it, he was waiting for you. You usually didn’t take this long in the shower, he was beginning to wonder if he should go knock on the door. But there was no need, soon the soft thumps of your steps were heard coming down the hall.

Contrary to the usual, you make a b-line straight into his lap, curling up against his board frame. He didn’t say anything, supporting you with an arm and holding you closer.

“I want to keep the baby.” You spoke softly against his neck.

Alhaitham closed his eyes, mind going deep into thought. There was more than enough money saved up to support a child. Sumeru has free good quality health care, a great daycare program, and the best education system. The nation offers a generous tax deduction for families with children. There were enough rooms in the house that one could be turned into a nursery, it would be troublesome to have to babyproof everything and rearrange the furniture.

Ah, the two of you will have to sacrifice your free time and sleep to take care of a needy newborn. However… He opened his eyes.

“Then we should start making preparations for our new addition.”

If it’s with you, Alhaitham is more than willing to sacrifice those luxuries and needs.

Alhaitham had to be more observant, the changes to your body and hormones made it so you were much more sensitive to your surroundings. Foods that were too strong in scent had to be dialed back or not cooked in the house. He also took care to clear the floor of any stacks of books lest your foot knocks into them.

The worst part of it was probably how the pregnancy was disrupting your sleep. Your body needs it, yet the growing bump and overactive hormones made it hard for you to find a position that welcomed the sweet embrace of sleep. Often tossing and turning, Alhaitham would place a pillow under your belly which seemed to help a bit.

Then came morning sickness, Alhaitham is adamant that your child be thankful for all the suffering you were enduring to give life to them.

The ashen-haired Alpha had been extra careful with his inhibitors as well, making sure each dose was measured to the line and constantly checking the dates printed on the bottles. Still, the clawing of his instincts only grew stronger as his teal eyes observe your bump growing day by day. You were working so hard to carry the child, he needed to do something to make you relax and comfortable.

–

Currently, your bed has been buried under a mountain of quilts and plush pillows. You had your hands on your hips as your eyes surveyed the messy state of the bed you had just made a few hours earlier. You folded and pack those quilts away weeks ago, why were they back out?

“Haitham, why can’t I see our own bed?”

“There’s no cause for concern. Your body must be tired, go take a rest.” A gentle large hand rested on your lower back, encouraging you towards the heavenly pile.

That sentiment from seven years ago still rings true to this day. Your husband is weird. Still, there was a small smile on your face, what a silly sweet weirdo he is. The soft wafts of fresh linen encapsulated your senses, layers upon layers of fabric cushioning your achy joints and growing belly. Gentle fingers combed their way through your hair, making your eyelids grow heavy.

Were these inherited instincts or learned gestures from old light novels? Oh well, the answer is irrelevant.

One Saturday afternoon you were rudely awakened by the maddening repetition of thumping. You were now well into your second trimester, the bump on your belly growing steadily day by day, which only meant your sleep schedule only got worse. All your senses have been going into overdrive lately, every bump in the night making your eyes snap open. You groggily rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, begrudgingly rousing your sluggish body from the haven of pillows and blankets.

By this point, you and Alhaitham had announced to friends and family about your pregnancy, there were many tears of excitement shed that day. Followed by a steady stream of boxes and gifts placed into your or your husband's hands. These items ranged from teas to help with morning sickness to long loose maternity gowns.

At first, you raised an eyebrow at the shapeless dresses your mother had gifted to you. Stating that they made you look like a lost ghost. However, now with your baby bump, the soft loose fabric felt divine against your sensitive skin. Carefully, pushing off the mattress you took your time gaining your balance. Moving has become troublesome because of your now shifted center of gravity.

Steadying yourself with a hand on the hallway wall you waddled toward the source of the commotion. As you grew closer to the room across the guest room, an extra space that was utilized as a small side library the barrage of noises stung your ears more. You felt irritation creeping up on you.

Grasping your hand on the door frame you peered inside to see a head of blonde hair. Oh. It’s Kaveh. That explains the noise.

You quietly observed the back of the unaware man as he continued to hammer furniture together. Your husband had told you earlier in the week that Kaveh would be coming over to help set up the nursery. He mentioned something about the blond having to pay off an old debt.

Oh well, it saves you and Alhaitham the trouble of rearranging the furniture.

“Ugh, that bastard has not changed a single bit. Who would choose such an ugly bassinet? His poor child will be welcomed into the world surrounded by ugly furniture.”

Your lips pressed into a firm line. You had chosen the bassinet when out shopping with your husband. You bought it with your own money too. You thought it was quite cute… It’s cute, right? You waddled off to find your husband.

“Alhaitham…” Tighnri stood just to the left of the glass door of the small cafe, your favorite cafe.

Your husband was exiting the door, a small chime from the bell hanging above his head announcing his departure. A brown take-out bag, that contained the padisarah pudding you have been craving for the fourth time this week, clutched firmly in his hand. Alhaitham greeted his fellow colleague with a nod of acknowledgment.

“I know your wife is pregnant. However, food should be in moderation. Especially sweets. You should know that during pregnancy the change in hormones makes it harder for the body to control its levels of-”

The ashen-haired man raised one hand, signaling for the other to halt their lecture.

“I acknowledge your expertise and advice. However, time is precious and to save both of ours, I invite you to take this debate up with my wife. To warn you beforehand, you will lose.”

Tighnari let out a huff of exasperation, steps heading in the direction of your shared home with Alhaitham. Surely you were more reasonable than your Alpha husband at the moment. Tighnari knew it was in their primal instincts to pamper their mates, caving into any demand no matter how unreasonable or troublesome.

The head secretary has always been a rather level-headed individual in his eyes, sometimes to a fault, so it must just be his instincts influencing his actions. Tignari even heard from a certain blond that the ashen-haired man had given him the deadliest glare because the architect had critiqued your taste in home decor.

“It’s normal for people to have cravings during their pregnancies, and for the most part, it’s harmless. However, there is a whole misconception about the saying ‘eating for two’. In truth, you only need about an extra glass of milk and an extra pita pocket a day. You are feeding a small-”

Alhaitham stared ahead at the path in front of him, doing his best to tune out the ramblings of the shorter man walking beside him. He had one purpose, and that was to deliver your padisarah pudding to you.

–

Tighnari was now walking in the direction of his own home, spirit shaking a bit. Like always, Alhaitham’s prediction was flawless. He lost. The defiant blank gaze you gave him at the doorway of your house was enough to make the ebony-haired Alpha stop his clearly unsolicited advice. In the end, you got your pudding.

“That is all I have to report. Now that you have this knowledge, I trust that you will be able to decide if this proposition is fair or not. Here are the files for you to look through.” The ivory-haired Alpha placed the stack of papers on the smooth desk.

“Understood. Thank you for the report, Cyno.” Alhaitham gathered the paperwork into his hands, beginning to skim through the contents.

His teal-orange eyes soon left the crisp papers, peering at his colleague with an inquisitive glance. It wasn’t like the head lawyer to remain in his office after he finished delivering his information.

“Is there any more you would like to discuss?”

“Yes, I have prepared a gift for your child.” Cyno reached into his blazer pocket.

Alhaitham hid his sigh. Your home was already littered with so many gifts and baby items, it was troublesome keeping the floors clear of any potential tripping hazards. You were now in your third trimester, slow steps more focused on your balance and the ache in your lower back than paying attention to the floor.

Your husband wonders if he should have waited until he applied for maternity leave to tell his closest colleagues about your pregnancy.

“Here.” Cyno handed him an engraved box.

Was this a TCG card case? Alhaitham’s unreadable eyes shifted between the case and the head lawyer’s eager eyes. Really, he should’ve expected this, he is already well aware of the tan Alpha’s obsession with the card game.

“Thank you.” Your husband took the gift from the awaiting hand.

“I custom-made the deck to be as beginner friendly as possible. Even still, these cards are staples in the game so this deck will be solid regardless of the changing meta. I made sure to have every card laminated as young children don’t know restraint. The box is also custom-made, it is made from solid wood but any sharp edges have been rounded out.”

“You didn’t have to go through so much unnecessary trouble.” Alhaitham wishes that Cyno didn’t.

“Since most gifts have been either for your wife or for the child, I have prepared a gift for you as well.” Cyno reached into his inner coat pocket.

This was unexpected. Your husband observed the tan man pull out a small journal. Stationary? You had already gifted Alhaitham a lifetime supply, but they were for only very important situations. So this could be a welcomed addition.

“I wrote down some of my best jokes for you to tell.”

Nevermind. Alhaitham didn’t even want to reach for the small notebook. Cyno places it on top of the desk.

“It’s unnecessary.”

“It will help pass the time while entertaining your child. Your wife has been pregnant for a while now, it must feel like an maternity.”

“...”

“Did you not get it? It’s because ‘maternity’ sounds like ‘eternity’ and-”

“I am very busy, head lawyer. Please excuse yourself from my office.”

Alhaitham was aware of the concept of ‘pregnancy glow’ from the anatomical journals he read some time ago. However, seeing it in person was much different from what the book had described. Another example of how learning purely from books is not enough.

You were radiant, features softer and skin glowing. The aura around you has also been much gentler, likely attributed to your constant drowsiness and lack of stress from work as you were now on maternity leave. More often than not, Alhaitham finds it hard to keep his hands off of you.

Resting an open hand on your round belly, feeling the subtle shifts of your child as he reads. Hugging you from behind as you cook, it’s to support the baby he reasons. He offers his chest as a pillow whenever sleep calls for you regardless if it was on the couch, you needed your rest.

However, there’s a caveat: others can’t seem to keep their hands off you either.

“Oh! What a strong kick! I think they have real potential for dance.” Nilou exclaimed as she felt your belly.

“Haha, what a meddlesome kid already. Kicking your poor mommy.” Dehya also had one hand resting a top.

“It’s uncomfortable, yes, but it’s a good sign that they’re healthy and strong.” You let out a small sigh.

“Here, have another pillow to support you” Candace placed the soft cushion behind your back, relieving some of the pressure.

“Thank you, Candace. Even though I’m going to become a mother soon, it seems you’ll always be the mom of our group.” You giggled, giving your friends a wide smile.

“Oh, you flatter me too much.” Candace chuckled, joining the rest in feeling your round bump.

Alhaitham sat in your usual spot on the adjacent sofa, trying to read his book. However, his teal eyes couldn’t help but peer over at the hands that were plastered all over your belly. Although his gaze remained neutral, his lips were slightly pressed into a line. Their hands didn’t need to linger for that long he surmises.

–

“Have a safe trip back!” You bid your friends goodbye, it was nice to have visitors when you couldn’t leave the house easily.

Alhaitham closes the front door after their figures disappeared into the distance, offering his muscular arm to support you. You gladly accepted, as your feet and joints sang with relief as pressure was shifted off of them. Slowly strolling down the hall back to the living room.

Alhaitham presses a soft kiss against your temple, a clever diversion from his true intentions. He couldn’t help the frown that formed on his lips or the scrunch of his nose. Your friends had drenched you in their scent, overpowering your subtle fragrance. Tsk, this is why others should keep their hands to themselves.

“Let's take a shower. Of course, I’ll assist you.”

“Mm? Haitham, it’s pretty early. We haven’t even had dinner.”

“I’ll help you wash your hair as well.”

“Haitham-”

“I’ll massage your shoulders and feet afterward.”

“... Fine… remember to use the lotion as well.”

“Of course.”

There was no reason to be nervous even as your due date grew closer and closer. A room at the Bimarstan has already been reserved. He had already prepared a hospital bag with extra clothes, blankets, and toiletries. Alhaitham also packed some books in there was well. However, as you began to count down the days, it’s hard not to notice the anticipation in the air. You were very much ready to meet your child and to finally not be pregnant anymore.

“Do you think the child will be more like you or me?” You turned to face your husband as he lay in bed.

“It doesn’t matter. As long as they’re healthy.” Alhaitham tucks a quilt from the nest up to your chin.

“Oh? I think that if our child looks like you but has my personality, they’d be quite popular.” You pondered out loud.

“Mm.” Alhaitham pulls you closer to him from behind, resting his chin atop your head.

“Then if they resemble you, it's best that they have my personality. Lest our peaceful lives will be disrupted by a constant stream of suitors at the door.” He entertains your musing.

Your soft giggle jingles through the air as you stroked your belly, his hands soon join yours. A comfortable silence encapsulated the two of you, his soft caresses lulling your heavy lids closed. This was the sweet calm lull of normalcy, and you both were satisfied.

Alhaitham had closed his eyes, only for them to snap open with the sudden jolt of your body. Did the baby kick again? They sure are disruptive, he can already feel the long sleepless nights to come. However, there were still a few days to stock up on as much rest as possible.

“Haitham, I think my water broke.”

Nevermind.

–

You were holding onto his hand with an iron-clad grip, crushing his fingers together. However, he knew this was barely scratching the surface of the discomfort you were currently experiencing. If he could, Alhaitham would bare all your pain himself.

However, he couldn’t so he’ll sit beside you in the Bimarstan, brushing the hair out of your sweat-socked face and whispering sweet nothings to encourage your efforts. You’ve been in labor now for about four hours. Alhaitham has decided that the first thing your child learns to write will be a thank you letter addressed to you.

You were trying to keep your breathing as stable as possible, practicing the technique the midwife taught you. Put the pain of the contractions always broke your streak, making you have to start from the beginning to try and steady your breath. The midwives and doctors were encouraging you to push as hard as you could. You already were, but you took a deep breath and then held onto it. Giving it your all.

“WWAAHHHHH!”

A loud, piercing, yet beautiful cry echoed off the walls.

“It's a boy!” The doctors announced.

“He’s got quite the set of lungs.” You giggled, tears still pooling at the corners of your eyes. Cradling your newborn.

Alhaitham only let out a gentle hum, resting his head on your shoulder as he gazes at his son. Eyes as soft as the little one’s plump cheeks. It was quite a riveting experience, how can one fall in love with a little stranger so quickly?

“No more full nights rest for us when we return home, huh.” You rested your head on top of his ashen hair, smiling as you continued to stare at your little bundle.

Your husband lets out a soft mixture of a hum and a chuckle. He’s already prepared himself to sacrifice sleep in order to nurture this little bond created between the two of you.

To your surprise and his great delight, your child sleeps through the nights well. A little too well. You had been released from the Bimarstan just a few days ago, the doctors all said your child was healthy. However, you couldn’t help but stare at him as if you were in a trance.

“Come to bed, your body needs the rest to heal.” His warm touch grasped the sides of your shoulders, as Alhaitham pressed his face into your neck. Trying to lure you back.

“Yes, I know but… just a little while longer.” You reached a hand up to tussle through his soft locks.

Your eyes never stopped observing the small ups and downs of your little bundle of joy as he slept. Well, the face he made earlier when you had woken him up for his regular feedings sure wasn’t one of joy. He’s just like his father, grumpy when disturbed from the sweet embrace of sleep. But he needed to feed every three hours if he was to grow up healthily.

“He’s quite a lot like you. A deep sleeper.”

“Oh? I think he’s quite like you, Haitham. You should’ve seen the mean mug he gave me.”

“I never scowl at you.”

“Yes, but you’re grumpy when woken up.”

“Hmph.” Your husband buries his face deeper into your nape. Teal eyes never breaking their gaze from the child you’ve gifted him.

The air was quiet, yet warm and sweet. It was well past your preferred bedtime, but strangely not a single muscle felt tired as two pairs of eyes continued to study the small moments of his chest.

“Should we head to bed now, Haitham?”

“Mm, perhaps a few more minutes wouldn’t make a drastic difference.”

Fin~

#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x y/n #al-haitham x you #alhaitham headcanons #alhaitham x you #alhaitham smut #alhaitham scenarios #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin omegaverse #genshin smut #alhaitham fluff #vivalabunbunfics #alhaitham fanfic #al haitham x you #alhaitham x yn #alhaitham imagines

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kithtaehyung · 2 months

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would u? (3tan717) | myg

3tan717 drabble #1: would u? pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | 3tan717 rating/genre: pg (18+) ; fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: you see a certain fruit-centered trend online.. and decide to test it on yoongi note: i am so so so sorry this is out on the very last day of feb but things have been absolute bananas lately! tbh i’m surprised this is even getting posted on time and i have even more to do after this is shared but eff it shibal!!! note 2: as promised, this is dedicated to the people that submitted the answers i’m using for this drabble: anon, grapes / @yoongrace, and apryl @aprylynn for this idea hehehe! also i literally just finished this so it's legit unedited so i'm sry for any mistakes! off to go prep for events now! warnings: 3tan yoongi as always, working yoongi??, kitchen, period cramps suck but yoongi to the mf rescue drop date: feb 29th, 2024, 10:03pm est word count: 2.3k

Ugh.

Why does this have to happen every fucking month. Why can’t it happen every three? Or six? Or never ever ever?

Groaning, you roll over, burying your face into the pillow on Yoongi’s side.

To some degree, you feel placated, probably due to his scent still lingering next to your dismay. He had to get up early to finish a track, but he assured you can be in the room.

You can hear a little bit of what he’s working on as it bleeds through his headphones, and even just this sliver of sound gives you chills. Not just because of what it sounds like, but the sole fact that Yoongi’s letting you even listen in the first place.

Huffing out a bit of amusement, you remember the last time Yoongi let you stay while he worked—albeit at his place while he went to the studio.

Damn, how much you’ve grown since then. All those memories, those quiet times and tumultuous times, everything leading up to now. How time has molded you with knowing hands.

However, no matter how much has changed all these months, some things have not wavered, like the fact that you needed to be sure he was okay with it—and his answer making you absurdly shy.

Did he really have to say that you’re either staying or he’s gonna leave? That scheming motherfucker!

Some drum beats hit your cheek before you realize the menace himself is playing multiple different ones. It’s only a couple hits before he moves onto the next, and you’re about to lift your hea—

“Fuck, where the hell is that kick?”

Your laugh is stifled by cotton. As tickled as you are to hear Yoongi like this, you don’t wanna do anything to distract him.

But by doing so, that causes your body to tighten and fuck, it hurts. It hurts to move, it hurts to laugh, it hurts to just exist. God, you want him to come back and join you so bad, but you don’t wanna be that person.

…Yet. Maybe if it gets so bad you can’t even sleep?

“Found you! Fucking finally. Thought you could hide from me, huh?”

Oh, fucking hell, he’s adorable.

Yeah, there’s no way you’re making him drop everything right now. This is too precious of an afternoon to stop.

Exhaling a mile long breath, you fight through your pain and feel for your phone, groaning as you shift yourself. When in position under sheets and warm sunlight, you cycle through apps as a distraction.

Scrolling. Scrolling. Smiling at some animal videos a bit before scrolling again.

After all of five minutes, you start to see a trend on your feed, and suddenly get the idea to try it on Yoongi. It’s simple and harmless, right?

You [3:30pm]: would u peel an orange for me

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, and you lift your head slightly to see if he looks at his phone.

When he does, he checks it really quick before setting it back down on his desk, back to clicking on his screen.

Ah. Damn. He must really be in the zone because…

Uhh.

Blinking, you watch as Yoongi rolls his chair out to get up, setting his glasses down and heading out of the room with a light swing of his chains.

Uh. What just happened? Did you upset him? You’re so stunned that his swift exit has you wanting to get up and follow him.

But ow. Ouch. It’s maddening how much your cramps are getting to you.

Bearing the punches to your gut, you start sliding out of the bed, straining and sucking in sharp breaths just to stand and pull Yoongi’s comforter over your tension.

Padding out the bedroom, your worries make your steps tiny and heavy, and you regret sending that text because you literally just said you weren’t… gonna…

On the dining table—quiet—lie three tangerines, peeled and placed next to vibrant scraps while your lover peels a fourth with diligent, devoted hands.

And you can’t even form words that match how you feel.

Your vision swims right as Yoongi looks your way, his body stilling before he puts the fruit down.

When he approaches with concern, you answer his silent questions through hiccups, “I—I thought you left cus—you were mad.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t even know,” you swallow, gesturing to all of your lower half and feeling him hold the slipping blanket. “It’s just… this, I guess.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Like a motherfucker.”

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, doll. Hold up.” Handing you the comforter, Yoongi goes to his cabinets in the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of medicine before walking it over. “You gotta take something as soon as you feel it. Don’t let it get this bad.”

“I know,” you groan, resting your head on his shirt and inhaling his healing presence. “I didn’t wanna bother you.”

Your forehead is kissed. “You’re not bothering me. Especially with something like this.”

“Okay.”

He walks away again to grab some water, and you watch as he pours some into an electric kettle before starting it up.

Glancing back at the fruit, you sigh, clutching the bottle of pills while feeling the weight of his comforter. He’s probably not pleased with the way it might drag on the ground, so you gather it and pick the end chair to sit on.

And then you sigh, “Sorry for making you peel those. I didn’t even plan on eating anything.”

“Too bad. You’re gonna eat what I make you anyway.”

Wait, he’s cooking? He has work to do! “You’re working, though. Don’t worry about me right now.”

“It’ll be quick.”

“What are you making?”

A glass bowl and pan are procured from random places before Yoongi blinks in place. “Uhh.. You’ll see.”

As he clunks them onto his counter and stove, you watch with hearts for eyes as he bustles around the kitchen space. Even doing things as simple as washing his hands, opening his fridge, and simply grabbing a knife gives you pause.

And this is when you realize that you can watch Yoongi do absolutely anything and be amazed.

Even when he stands, watching you with a look that’s wait why doesn’t he look—

“Take the medicine, baby girl.”

Oh.

Snapping out of your trance, you nod. “Sorry.”

Yoongi continues to give you glances until you swallow down the painkillers, satisfied enough to continue his cooking venture when you take the second one.

As the sun paints the apartment in marigold and light, you keep watching with a smile as he brings the kitchen to life. Butter sizzles in a pan, tangerines are getting halved on a board, and something is getting mixed with a whisk.

Who knew that the neighborhood fuckboy would have a whisk on hand? Not the younger you, that’s for damn sure.

But here Yoongi is, in the flesh, whisking away with veiny forearms that have you thinking the most absurd thoughts during this time of the month. The only thing that would cut through the raging horniness would be getting up to see what the hell he’s making.

It’s starting to smell familiar though. But he put the tangerines in the pan so you don’t even know what to expect right now.

Walking up—blanket left behind—you observe the kitchen before peering over his broad shoulder. “Mm.. Smells like pancakes.”

Yoongi doesn’t answer, but when you see the consistency of the batter, you realize you’re correct. “Oh, it is! I’m smart.”

“You are,” he laughs. “But you didn’t get it all the way right.”

“No?”

“Nope.” Yoongi then gently gets you to move before he pours the batter over the slices, and you crane your neck to watch as he evens it all out. “Just one tangerine pancake.”

“Oh, okay,” you scoff, earning a laugh at your side. “Whatever, chef.”

“We’ll see what you say in a bit.”

Is he gonna leave it or flip it? Probably the latter.

“K. Gonna flip that once it’s done.”

Nice. You smile to yourself, loving how you’re starting to really be on the same page. Nudging him, you keep watching as he lowers the heat and sets the lid on the pan. “What now?”

“We wait,” he responds, dusting his hands together before cleaning up his mixing bowl. “And I’m gonna see if we have any sugar.”

Damn it, Yoongi cannot keep saying that two-letter word. It’s starting to be detrimental to your health. “I can help.”

“S’ok,” he assures, nose upturned. “Just watch me work.”

“Oh, I’m very good at doing that.”

At this, Yoongi turns and gives you a smile that immediately reminds you of summer, and you almost feel like crying again.

“I’ve actually never tried this, but. We’ll see if this works.”

With nothing snarky, or teasing, or fake to say, you reply with a smile and a genuine, “I’m sure it will.”

When he keeps staring, his eyes lower to your lips, and you don’t care that you probably look like a wreck, or feel like one. Because the way he’s looking at you now makes you glow.

If only the kettle didn’t decide this was the moment to stop boiling.

You were probably about to get the kiss of your life.

But Yoongi halts in his tracks before shifting to get a mug, setting it down with a thud before checking on the pancakes. Pancake. Whatever that delicious-smelling thing is gonna be.

“There’s some tea packets in that right drawer. Help yourself cus I’d rather you pick.”

Chuckling, you oblige before scooting over. After seeing a small jar of granules on the counter, you start rummaging through the drawer, exploring the various options while hearing the sound of a plate behind you.

Ah, Yoongi’s flipping it.

As you turn, you’re just in time to watch the muscles in his back protrude through his shirt as he flips the pan, impressed as he sets the plate down because holy hell that looks great.

“Sugar, sugar, sugar… Suga, suga, suga.”

Laughing, you interrupt his silly search as you grab the jar you just saw. “Suga suga, how you get so fly?”

Yoongi stops to see what’s in your hand, and he huffs through a grin before grabbing it. “Thanks, doll.”

You keep humming the song that’s now wedged into your head as you watch him sprinkle bits on the pancake.

“I don’t have a blowtorch,” he admits, “But I do have this.”

Rolling out a drawer, Yoongi takes out a long lighter before holding it to the sugary top, humming the same song you were just singing without even knowing it. As the sugar slowly but surely heats, you both keep humming and basking in a calm afternoon.

And you don’t even feel the pain anymore.

“Go ahead and sit, babe.”

“You sure?”

“Uh huh.”

Following instructions, you make your way to the table, cocooning yourself in his comforter again as you await the cutest meal you’ve had in weeks. Months. Lifetimes.

Speaking of lifetimes… You hope every version of you meets every version of him. No matter when. No matter where. Because you want every version of yourself to find happiness, and Yoongi has been the one to help you finally find it.

And he certainly passed whatever the hell this orange theory thing was supposed to be.

Plates are set down to break you out of introspection, and you glance up with eyes sparkling.

When Yoongi raises a brow, you just smile. When he asks what’s gotten into you, a chuckle escapes before you shake your head,

“Nothing, baby. Just didn’t expect all this from that text.”

As he plops into the next chair, you love the way the sun settles on his skin. Highlights his hair. Shimmers in his eyes.

“Don’t even need to ask, babe.” He captures your attention with a calm look. “I was waiting for any distractions anyways.”

So this was for him, too? Good.

Grabbing your fork, you giggle. “Sounded like you were having a little trouble over there.”

“I was! This is what I get for not saving my shit.”

Both of you sit back in laugher as you throw your hands out. “Do that!”

“I’m lazy!”

“Tough shit!”

“I know!”

Grinning, you loll your head before waving your fork out. “You’re gonna save those sounds, and you’re gonna remember this day and thank me.”

Yoongi just tightens his lips in a smile, eyes creased and glimmering. “Maybe.”

“Yes. I’ll stand there and watch you until you do it.”

"Really.."

For the rest of the afternoon—with full bellies and clear minds—you rest on the edge of Yoongi’s bed, forcing him to find the files he needs and watching him groan his way through saving everything.

Constantly laughing at the ridiculously random names he’s assigning them.

When he’s done, you watch as he spins around in his chair, heart thumping with anticipation as you’re met with a waiting pair of eyes.

Breathtaking.

When he leans in, you feel incredibly shy. Always, always, always. This will forever remain the same.

And—just as well—Yoongi's kisses will forever taste like tangerines.

Three of them, to be exact.

fin. :)

how did the first 717 drabble go! | join the discord hehe

a/n: nothing much to say other than i love y'all so much! i will try responding to anything when i can (there's literally still all the 3tan12 feedback to get to) but i do read all the commentary sent in and it keeps me going strong :'))) so thank you again for being here and being amazingly patient with me. off to work on more things but i shall be back once the wild weeks are over!

a/n 2: suga suga how you get so flyyyy hahaha

#ahhhh here we go!#3tan717d1 #3tan717 #bts fic #bts imagines #*ryenfictalk #bts reactions #bts fanfic #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfic #three tangerines #yoongi fluff #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #*latest #ryenwrites #bts fluff

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avocado-writing · 3 months

Text

good boy

notes: my mate M put this idea in my head. this is her fault. pairing: gale x f!reader (sub!gale, dom!reader; praise kink; mummy kink)

rating: E

Gale has been dealt an unnecessarily unfair hand in the card game of life, you think.

Having a tumultuous relationship with a goddess is one thing, getting a bloody magic bomb sealed into your chest is quite another. And all on top of being infected with that damned tadpole?

Well. Those sorts of things can really grind a man’s self esteem down.

You can see that he tries to paint over it with his erudite speech, using fifteen words where he could use one to trick his listener into believing he holds a sense of grandeur about himself—but you know how to look for the subtler signs. The way he casts his eyes down whenever you give him a fond word, flinching ever so slightly when someone reaches out to touch him in kindness.

Deep down, the man does not believe he deserves to be treated well.

You are trying to correct that in every way you know how.

“That’s it… aren’t you gorgeous, Gale? Such a good boy for me…”

“Unf… I…”

You can tell he’s trying to think of something clever or witty to say. From where you ride him, you press a finger down onto his lips to corral him to silence. It works, and as his mouth slips open you let your thumb slide against his tongue so he can suck it.

Gods he is gorgeous. Chestnut, silver-streaked hair fanned out like a halo against the velvet of his pillows, a soft sheen of sweat dripping down him to give away the rigour you’ve been putting his body through. You made a point to apply your reddest lipstick so you could leave a trail of your adoration on him. Marks are pressed along his jawbone, down his neck, across his collarbone and chest; he is a masterpiece of debauchery.

“You’re so beautiful like this, Gale. So beautiful all the time, dancing across the battlefield while you weave your magic… such clever hands, darling, so lovely…”

Those hands are currently settled on your hips, holding you tightly as you fuck him. With each word of praise you feel his cock twitch inside you. It’s nice to know what you can do to him, how wild you can drive him. As wild as he drives you.

A grind down of your pelvis, pressing your clit into the rough hair at the base of him and grinning as he moans.

“Tell me you’re my good boy, Gale. I want to hear it from your pretty mouth.”

What happens next is in a tumble of words, so fast you don’t properly catch it for a moment.

“I’m—fuck—I’m your good boy, mummy!”

He freezes. You pause in your riding. His eyes snap open from where they were squeezed shut in rapture. The flush of pink across his skin is now no longer from lust, but shame, and he realises he has made a mistake in voicing that out loud.

“Gods. My deepest apologies, I never… didn’t mean to… we should have discussed this first, beforehand, I’m utterly horrified that… I’m sorry—!”

You reach down and silence his panic with a long, tender kiss, rolling your tongue across his. When you pull back, he’s returned to looking blissed-out rather than concerned.

“‘Mummy’, is it?” you ask, mouth ticking upwards into a rather pleased smirk. “Well, darling boy. Mummy is very glad you know how good you are. How handsome and clever and wonderful.”

“Oh…” he whimpers, actually whimpers, and you know he won’t last long like this. You go back to riding him in earnest, fucking him until all he can do is gasp, and press one of your hands down across that mark on his chest, obscuring it beneath your touch.

He is not Mystra’s. He is yours.

“Come for mummy, you beautiful boy.”

Gale comes so hard you’re worried that he passes out for a second. His hips stutter beneath yours as hot jets fill you up, bringing you over the edge with him, the cocktail of the two of you leaking back down his length obscenely.

He falls back and tries to catch his breath as you slowly pull off of him, grabbing the wet cloth you brought bedside earlier and gently wiping him down. The coolness makes him sigh in delight and he nuzzles into your touch, gulping down water gratefully when you bring a cup to his lips.

“Are you alright, my love?” you ask gently, the rougher edge of your voice gone, giving away to something soft and caring. He nods and meets your eyes with his warm, adoring gaze.

“Yes, my heart. Better than ever. And… I really didn’t mean to… I know we were swept up in the moment but if you’re not comfortable with it then you absolutely never have to…”

Another kiss. Less dominant, more reassuring. He hums delightedly into this one.

“Whatever you need me to give you, my love,” you tell him. He melts into your arms, safe and loved.

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate@dhampling (lmk if you want to be added!)

#gale of waterdeep x reader #gale Dekarios x reader #gale x tav #gale of waterdeep x tav #Gale bg3 x reader #gale x reader #My writing

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yoonia · 4 months

Text

A Christmas Fix | kth (teaser)

⤑ Summary | One-night stands are supposed to be nothing more than just. It shouldn’t have involved seeing those two red lines looking back at you weeks later without a name or a contact number linking you back to your mystery man. Nothing more but his face. The unforgettable face that would sometimes appear in your dreams at night. So unforgettable that you immediately recognise him the moment he walks into your family home at Christmas, hand-in-hand with your older stepsister.

⤑ Title | A Christmas Fix

⤑ Pairings | Taehyung x female reader

⤑ Ratings & Genre | +18 / M for Mature; Secret Baby!au, Second Chance!au, Strangers to Lovers!au

⤑ Word count | estimated: 30k 45k 50k words; teaser: 1,403 words | writing progress per Jan 31st, 2024: posted!

Part of the Jingle All the Way collaboration

Beautiful banner by @kithtaehyung

“Seriously, baby,” you whisper to the non-existent bump under your sweater, “Please take it easy, will you? I’m really struggling here, and you’re not making things easy for me. Trust me, it would be too soon for everyone to find out about you. At least wait until we can find a clue about your Dad, okay?”

As if the baby inside you is listening, even if it is still barely a fetus at this point, your body grows calmer and the nausea slowly wanes.

“Thank you, baby,” you whisper to your stomach once again before finally focusing on the stove and the oven, deliberately taking your time with what you do just so you can have a reason not to join the dramatic reunion happening right this minute.

From this side of the kitchen, the front door isn’t completely visible. But you can hear everything as the door opens and your stepfather joyfully welcomes his daughter.

Hearing his voice makes you smile. You may have had a tumultuous relationship with your stepsister, but the same cannot be said with your stepfather. Cliff has always been a great role model, and your relationship with him has always been great from the start.

It makes you feel guilty when you think about the previous encounters where you and your stepsister simply gave each other cold shoulders or when you were met with altercations just because of how different the two of you are. But there is no helping it. Nothing has changed over the years no matter how hard you tried. Not even once you have become adults.

You can’t even remember how it first started. And frankly, you no longer care. Last year’s incident was already enough to let you know that the sisterhood that your parents have been forcing you into was beyond saving.

The voices coming from the front door continue for a moment longer. This time, you get to hear your mother’s voice joining in the conversation and Alia's soft voice answering her questions. You make no effort to listen to what they are saying and tune out their voices, until your mother’s voice calls out to you.

“______, your sister is here. Come and say hi.”

Your mother’s words make you stop. Slowly, you turn down the heat on the stove and turn to make your way towards the front door to join the family reunion.

“It’s stepsister,” you mutter under your breath as you drag your feet, taking your sweet time while you try to compose yourself before having to face the unwanted guests.

As you turn around the corner, merely moments before the front door finally comes into view, you get to hear another voice speaking. The voice that you couldn’t clearly hear from the kitchen while you were tuning their conversation out.

“I’m sorry for intruding. But thank you for having me here.”

That voice.

You immediately come to a halt. An uneasy feeling runs through your body when you realise that you recognise this voice and have grown to know it quite well.

There is no mistaking it. You may not have gotten his full name on the night you met, and his face has somewhat become a faint mirage in your dreams at night whenever you are taken back to the night of your hookup.

But you cannot say the same about his voice.

That deep and gentle voice will always be engraved in your memory. Even now, the only thing you would need to do is close your eyes and listen, and allow the voice to take you back to that specific night once more, where he used this voice to say sinful words that you could feel caressing your fragile heart while he was bringing you to the peak of pleasure.

And now you are hearing that voice here, at your home, idly chatting with your mother by the front door.

“_______, are you coming?” your mother calls again, and you know that there is no avoiding it. You have to face reality, even if that means you must come face to face with the man who is responsible for placing you in this situation.

Tamping down the rush of nerves going through your body, you slowly march ahead. Bracing yourself as you turn around the corner and enter the living room where everyone is currently gathering in.

Your eyes fall on your stepsister first.

Alia has always looked so vibrant and beautiful, drawing all kinds of attention from everyone in the room when she is present. Yet when you look at her now, there seems to be a new kind of light emerging from her. Even her smile seems brighter as she chats along with your stepfather.

And you soon realise the reason why she is shining brightly today as you turn your gaze to look at the person standing beside her. To finally see him.

He looks just like how you remember him. Tall and lean, with his arms and chest filling up his sweater. He has his hair falling over a part of his face, just enough of a mess that seems as if he has been running his fingers through the wavy strands. As he converses with your mother, he shows his boxy grin that seems familiar to your eyes.

Too familiar.

Because it looks just the same as the wide grin that was teasing and flirting with you on one eventful night at the transit hotel weeks ago.

No. That can’t be.

The baby’s daddy is here. The man who you were planning to look for once you return to the city.

He is here, today, appearing at the front door of your parents’ home together with your stepsister. His long fingers that had once entangled between the strands of your hair are now entwined with your stepsister’s dainty fingers. And there is no mistaking the matching couple rings that are glowing under the sunlight coming from their entwined hands.

Before you get the chance to process what is happening, you hear him introducing himself to your stepfather, “It’s good to see you, Sir. My name is Taehyung.”

No.

You stifle a gasp. It feels like you have been sucker-punched right in the chest that you can barely breathe.

Taehyung, you wonder. Tae?

All of a sudden, you feel as if the ground beneath your feet is spinning. And since you seem to have lost the ability to move your feet, the only thing you can do to stop yourself from falling is to clench your hands tightly by your side. Tight enough to feel pain as your nails are sinking into your palms, convincing you that this is not a dream.

Yet you are still in denial as you watch the interaction happening right before your eyes. Because there is no way this is happening. There is no possible way that it is truly him.

Please. Please don’t let it be him.

It must have been your mind playing tricks on you. Because there is no way that he is here. Not as your stepsister’s new boyfriend.

This must be a mistake. Yes, you are probably confused and all the thoughts of finding your baby daddy are messing up with your head, forcing you to believe that your stepsister’s new boyfriend is your mysterious baby daddy. The fact that they have the same name must have been pure coincidence.

For once in your life, you don’t want to be right. You have to be wrong.

Please tell me that it’s not him.

Just then, as if life was listening to your prayers, as if life has yet to have enough of its games to play around with your heart, the man turns his gaze away from your parents. And those pretty eyes land on you.

As if there is a switch turned, the brightness in his gaze fades. His beautiful eyes are filled with recognition. It is so subtle that you are quite sure that nobody else around you notices it, but it is enough to let you know that your memories have been right all along.

Because those are the same eyes that you saw looking back at you with pure lust and sin while he was bringing you wanton pleasure, when you made love as if both of you had been under a spell, right on the very night that may have changed your fate forever.

Fuck.

Me.

Coming soon (hopefully) this month! Join taglist here!

#misc: fic teaser #coming soon!#taehyung fanfic #taehyung scenario #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung x reader

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indigovigilance · 6 months

Text

The Final Fifteen is about Terry Pratchett's Death

read on Ao3

The final fifteen is obviously a major plot point, and serves a role in a story that was written long before Terry Pratchett was ever diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. But the scene itself wasn’t written until just a few years ago, during the writing of Season 2. In fact, the scene came about during a park bench conversation between Neil Gaiman and John Finnemore.

Others have noted that the non-romantic kiss that signals the story moving into the third act is a Neil Gaiman staple. The function of such a kiss, from Gaiman’s perspective, is to communicate.

In 2023 we are seeing a lot of stories written by men, for men, about men who are best friends and discover that their friendship can go deeper than the norms of society would usually allow; that platonic and romantic love are not so far apart, and perhaps the better word for a relationship that can be described this way is intimacy.

Neil Gaiman has made it clear in interviews that his friendship with Terry Pratchett was deeply intimate. They began collaborating on what would become Good Omens in the 1980’s, endured a tumultuous experience together through the first publication, wherein Neil offered to martyr himself on behalf of Terry if the book failed, and then spent the better part of two decades touring the world, meeting the people who loved their work. Neil would even off-handedly remark that Terry’s fans were so cheerful, and Neil’s seemed like they were ready to kill themselves; wouldn’t it be nice if they got married? From the outside, it looks very much as if Terry was Aziraphale-coded, and Neil was Crowley-coded, working together in an unexpected partnership to make the world a little bit more tolerable for the humans inhabiting it. I am not conjecturing that Neil and Terry had romantic inclinations the way their fictional characters do, but I think it is fair to say that their opposites-attract intimacy became an important part of who each of them were.

In 2007 Terry Pratchett was diagnosed with posterior cortical atrophy, a rare form of Alzheimer’s. As the disease progressed, he began to lose himself, and knew that the person he used to be was slipping away. He wanted to end his life on his own terms, and die as himself, but England did not and still does not allow for voluntary euthanasia or assisted suicide. He advocated for the right to die but never achieved it, and ultimately succumbed to the disease in 2015. Neil Gaiman has spoken a lot on the topic of death, and one answer of his that resonated with me reads:

Mostly it feels terrible. It even feels terrible when it’s someone who has been in a lot of pain for a long time or has not really been there for a long time and you know that Death has in some ways been a blessing: suddenly you are mourning the whole person.

It doesn’t get easier as you age. It gets stranger. The point where you realise how many people you used to know and like who aren’t there any longer, and you cannot talk to them or see them or laugh with them is painful in a way that I had never expected. The first time that someone you had a romantic relationship with dies and you realise that there had been moments both of you shared and now you are the sole custodian of those moments and one day you will be gone and they will be lost forever is peculiarly strange and hard.

~~~

The entire show is seeded with references to Terry Pratchett, but the most important one is the one that’s missing. Neil Gaiman cameoed as a sleeping moviegoer in S1E4, but a long time ago, he and Terry had discussed cameoing as sushi restaurant-goers, because sushi was weirdly prominent in the book. That cameo would have been in S1E1. But when it came time to do it, Neil couldn’t. Not without Terry.

Neil: I was gonna say our location is a Chinese restaurant we’d had turned into a sushi restaurant. So Terry and I, Terry Pratchett and I, had a standing… not even a standing joke, just a standing plan, that we were going to have sushi - there was going to be a scene in Good Omens where sushi was eaten and we were gonna be extras, we were gonna sit in the background, eating sushi while it was done. And I was so looking forward to this and, so I wrote this scene with it being sushi, even though Terry was gone, with that in mind and I thought: Oh, I’ll sit and I’ll eat lots of sushi as an extra, this will be my scene as an extra, I’ll just be in the background. And then, on the day, or a couple of days before, I realized that I couldn’t do it.

Douglas: You never told me this before either. I might have pushed you into doing it, had I known. I think you were right not to tell me.

Neil: I was keeping it to me self ‘cause I was always like: Oh, maybe I’ll be… this will be my cameo. And then I couldn’t. I was just so sad, ‘cause Terry wasn’t there. And it was probably the day that I missed Terry the most of all of the filming - it was just this one scene ‘cause it was written for Terry and all of the sushi meals we’d ever had and all of the strange way that sushi ran through Good Omens.

~~~

In the Final Fifteen, it is clear that Crowley and Aziraphale want to stay together. They love each other. They each know that the other loves them. There’s nothing that needs to be said, no convincing that their bond is true and real and precious.

But Aziraphale has to go to Heaven, and Crowley cannot follow him there.

I cannot speculate what it must have been like for Neil to endure losing a friend who, though I’m sure he desperately wanted to still be in his life, he also knew that life had become a burden to him, and grieved that Terry was not able to choose the time and manner of his departure from this Earth. This sort of complex grief, we fan-ficcers know, is the kind that is often best processed through story-telling.

I think that what we see Crowley going through in the Final Fifteen, alongside its importance to the story arc of Good Omens overall, is Neil processing his grief at losing his friend Terry Pratchett, and even the kiss, that violent, terrible, awful kiss, was the symbolic representation of Neil saying goodbye.

#neil gaiman #terry pratchett #aziraphale #crowley #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #ivoc #this meta ended up being only about 2/3 the length of my usual metas and somehow that feels appropriate because Terry's life ended too soon #and the jarring brevity of this piece parallels that feeling of sudden unexpected loss #for me anyways I don't know about you guys #if this made your eyes even slightly moist you are obligated to reblog to help someone else feel their feels #I don’t make the rules #but them is the rules #blessed by Beelzebub

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asapjens · 2 months

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UNEXPECTED LOVE

PJO: perseus jackson x fem! reader

SYNOPSIS: percy is drawn to this demiegod without knowing who’s her goldy parent.

CATEGORY: fluff

WORD COUNT: 480

It was a hot summer at Camp Half-Blood, and Percy was back for another action-packed break. As he strolled through the familiar grounds, Annabeth approached with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Hey, Seaweed Brain. You won't believe who's here," Annabeth exclaimed, practically bouncing with excitement.

Percy raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Who?"

"Come on, I'll introduce you," Annabeth said, leading him towards a group of demigods gathered near the campfire.

Among them stood a girl with a contagious smile and a warm aura. Annabeth made the introductions, and as Percy got to talk to her, he was struck by her unwavering positivity and the way she effortlessly lifted the spirits of those around her.

As the days passed, Percy found himself drawn to her magnetic energy. He admired how she always saw the silver lining, even in the most inconvenient situations. Her optimism was like a breath of fresh air in the midst of demigod life.

One day, as they sat by the lake, Nico di Angelo opened up about how his father's reputation always seemed to affect him, and Y/N, in her ever-optimistic way, comforted him.

“Look Nico, I know that it seems like your father is doing all of this just to make your life complicated, but you have to remember you’re not your father's actions.”

Her words resonated deeply with Percy, and he couldn't help but admire her even more. Percy couldn't help but be curious about Y/N's own background, as he had never paid much attention to such things.

When he finally mustered the courage to ask her, he definitely didn’t see that one coming.

"Hey” Percy asked, "who's your godly parent anyway? I don't think I ever caught that."

You looked nervous as she admitted, "Um, my father is Ares."

Percy's eyes widened in surprise, and he was thoroughly confused. Y/N, the nicest girl he’d ever known, who always saw the good in everything, the girl who always tried to avoid conflict and was always relaxed, couldn’t possibly be related to the God who has tried to kill Percy multiple times.

Ares and he had a long and tumultuous history, and it was no secret that most of Ares' children didn't exactly adore him.

"Yeah, I know, it's pretty wild," You said with a shrug. "But when I found out, I realized that's why I used to get so mad all the time.”

Percy raised his eyebrows at that. You angry?

“I used to always get mad about everything and everyone without a reason, I used to think that everyone was out there to screw me over,” You explained to Percy, still managing a smile and comforting aura.

“So, when I found out, I started to work really hard to become this new, relaxed, and peaceful person."

Percy was taken aback by her honesty and resilience.

“Well, even though Ares and most of his children hate me, I – I really like you, Y/N. And I’m not afraid to put up with some of Ares' shi- mhm.. challenges,” Percy said, biting down the last words and smiling softly at you.

Your eyes widened in surprise, but then a radiant smile spread across your face. "I'd like that, Percy," you said softly, your positivity shining through even in this unexpected moment.

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slytherinslut0 · 6 months

Text

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Twenty-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, SMUT (literally pure FILTH), Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Degradation Kink, Humiliation, DubCon(?), Fingering, Multiple Orgasm, Overstimulation, Corruption Kink, Subspace, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Sadism, Semi Public Sex, PIV, Choking, Gagging.

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

As the class finally drew to a close, the air filtered with an unspoken tension that shadowed over the room like a heavy fog--enveloping you and Mattheo in a world of charged silences and lingering desires. The classroom, once filled with the droning voice of Professor Snape, now echoed with the shuffling of papers and the distant sounds of students in the hallway.

Your hands moved almost mechanically, still trembling with the aftermath of your release as you briskly packed your bag--but each accidental brush against Mattheo sent a jolt of electricity through your skin, igniting a fire within you that refused to be tamed.

When you glanced over, his eyes locked onto yours, their depths a tumultuous storm of lingering, intoxicating lust that sent a thrill down your spine. The way he had treated you during this class felt like mere restraint, a mere fraction of what lay beneath the surface. Anticipating the upcoming encounter in the bathroom, you couldn't fathom the depths of desire he was capable of unleashing, and you'd honestly never been more fucking excited in your life.

Abruptly, the hypnotic trance Mattheo had ensnared you in shattered, as a familiar voice called out your name. Looking up, you found none other than Tom Riddle standing in front of your desk--his eyes, a mirror image of Mattheo's stormy gaze, flicked between you and his brother, a subtle tension creasing his brow.

"I heard what happened with Berkshire," his voice was gentle, yet laden with concern. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I'm glad you weren't hurt."

Your cheeks burned, nerves spreading through you as you could practically feel the frenetic energy coming from Mattheo multiplying by the second. Though you couldn't see his face, you could vividly imagine the clenching of his jaw, the intensity of his gaze, and the way his fingers must be tightening into fists, gripping his bag with a white-knuckled intensity. Ignoring the persistent heat between your thighs, you forced yourself to straighten up, your posture a facade of composure.

"Thank you," you said, your voice laced with genuine thankfulness, your eyes meeting Tom's with a blend of appreciation and depth. "I appreciate your concern...luckily Mattheo was there to help."

The simplicity of your words belied the complexity of the emotions swirling within you--a mix of gratitude, desire, and a strange kind of loyalty that bound you to Mattheo in ways you couldn't fully comprehend. Before Tom could get the chance to reply, Mattheo's arrogant sneer broke through the tension, his voice dripping with condescension as he mocked his brother.

"Quite the knight in shining armor, isn't he?" he scoffed, his eyes narrowing with disdain as he turned his gaze from you, back to his brother. "Inviting you to the party, only to disappear when things got tough...guess it was only a matter of time before you showed your true colours."

Tom shifted uncomfortably under Mattheo's piercing gaze, a mixture of shame and resentment flickering in his eyes. The tension in the room grew taut, a silent battle of wills unfolding before you, with you being caught directly in the middle of it. Tom cleared his throat, his eyes flickering with uncertainty before he composed himself, a veneer of calm settling over him.

"Well, you know how it is," he said, his voice steady but lacking conviction as he stared at his brother. "Parties can be rather...unpredictable."

His words hung in the air, an attempt to diffuse the tension, but the strain in his voice revealed the truth behind his carefully crafted facade. In an attempt to escape Mattheo's merciless gaze, he turned back to you, attempting a weak smile, though it failed to reach his eyes.

"I do apologize again," he said, attempting to muster up as much sincerity as possible. "I'd like to make it up to you. Perhaps we should cancel our meeting tomorrow? You could probably use the rest."

You nodded, grateful for Tom's consideration despite the lingering tension in the room. "Yes, that would be appreciated," you replied meekly, mustering a small smile. "Thank you."

"It's the least I can do, little witch." Tom managed another weak smile in return, his eyes reflecting a mix of regret and understanding. "Take care. I'll see you Thursday."

As Tom made his exit, Mattheo shot his brother one final, dark glance--his eyes filled with a silent yet unmissable warning, one you knew only you would catch. Then, without a word, he too spun around on his heel and left the room, his departure swift and purposeful, leaving a trail of palpable intensity in his wake.

With a cautious pace, you trailed after him, allowing the tide of students to swallow his figure in the chaotic shuffle. Navigating the bustling corridor, you granted him distance, a deliberate move to give him space, hoping the interim might quell the storm brewing within him. Yet, an unsettling intuition gnawed at you, suggesting it might only intensify his brooding anger.

Upon ascending to the third floor, you took a moment to collect yourself, inhaling a sharp breath to steady your racing heart. As you gently pushed open the bathroom door, there he stood--Mattheo, his posture rigid, leaning against the sink with an air of restrained aggression. His eyes, sharp as flint, bored into yours, the confined space practically crackling with the weight of unspoken tension.

"Close the door." His voice was harsh, cold, firm. "Lock it."

Mattheo's command sliced through the air, his voice an icy whip that lashed at your nerves, compelling you to obey. Swallowing hard, your pulse echoing in your ears, you eased the door shut with trembling hands, the soft click of the lock amplifying the palpable tension in the confined space.

Mattheo watched you--his eyes, sharp and unyielding, drilled into your soul as he shed his uniform jacket, the fabric sliding off his shoulders with calculated grace. It landed on the counter beside the sink, forgotten in the intensity of the moment as he then methodically began rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, revealing the sinewy strength of his forearms. Every movement he made was deliberate, a display of control that left you breathless

"Good girl," he stated, devoid of any warmth, his words falling like cold steel. "Drop your bag and come here."

A hard lump formed in your throat, forcing down a gulp that felt like swallowing shards of glass. Your heart hammered against your ribcage, its rhythm echoing in your ears like a relentless bass drum, each beat threatening to shatter the fragile structure of your sternum. Fingers entirely unsteady, you allowed your bag to slide off your shoulder, hitting the ground with a muffled thud, its impact barely audible over the cacophony of your racing pulse.

And then, taking deliberate, slow steps, you began to move toward him, your cautious approach mirroring the delicate balance of a predator stalking its prey--but in this moment, you weren't entirely sure who was supposed to be the prey. You, or Mattheo.

Coming to a halt in front of him, you felt the intensity of his stare searing into your skin. His eyes, dark and magnetic, darted to your lips, a hunger burning in their depths. The palpable energy surrounding him was a living, breathing entity, wrapping around you both like a tightly coiled thread, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.

"Hands behind your back," he commanded, his gaze lingering on your lips with a predatory intensity.

Obeying him, you slowly moved your hands to your back, your lungs quivering with anticipation. His eyes flickered down to your chest, a subtle challenge in his gaze.

"That's it," he murmured, his voice a low, velvety growl, the praise sparking heat in your veins. "You're going to let me unbutton your shirt, aren't you?"

His words hung in the air, laced with desire and dominance, demanding your consent without uttering the words explicitly, inspiring your thighs to throb with need. The commanding tone of his voice, coupled with the unspoken request, sent shivers sprinting down your spine. Your fingers trembled behind your back as you nodded, succumbing to his silent demand.

"Can't you talk?" Mattheo's jaw clenched, his eyes smouldering with intensity. "Use your words, Raven."

"Yes," you breathed, your voice a fragile whisper. "I'm going to let you."

He blinked. "Good girl,"

Mattheo emitted a low, appreciative hum, his fingers gliding over the buttons of your uniform shirt with deliberate slowness. Each button yielded to his touch, his eyes fixated on his hands' movements, as if he feared missing a single detail. The cool bathroom air caressed your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, and a shiver rippled through you as his fingertips found the last button, fully exposing your bra and chest to his hungry eyes.

His gaze traced every inch of newly exposed flesh as though he were savoring a newfound delicacy, his intensity leaving you breathless in the hushed atmosphere.

"Mm," he murmured, his eyes slithering up to meet yours. "You fuck me up in the best way, you know that, Raven?"

Your heart hammered in your chest, your nails biting into your palms as if anchoring yourself in the moment. "Do I, Mattheo?"

Mattheo stood before you, a coiled spring of restrained energy--the raw power emanating from him made every muscle in his body tense, as if he were holding back a storm. This version of him, this potent mixture of control and desire, was utterly captivating. You had never witnessed him like this before, and the sheer force of his presence, unyielding yet tantalizing, had the power to send every nerve in your body into a full out frenzy, and bring you to the brink of euphoria without even a single touch.

"You make me feel fucking alive," he murmured, his eyes fixated on your lips as if they held the secrets of the universe. "You're the only drug I can't live without."

"Oh...Gods..." your breath caught in your throat, desire and desperation intertwining in a tumultuous dance. Every fiber of your being screamed for him, ached for his touch, your voice leaving your lips in barely a whisper. "Please...kiss me..."

In an instant, Mattheo's lips crashed onto yours with a furious intensity, a maelstrom of pent-up desire and longing. His hands found your hips, pulling you against him with an urgency that left you breathless. They roamed over your back, tracing every curve, before ascending to tangle in your hair, holding your head in place with a possessive, commanding grip. The kiss deepened, a wild, passionate exchange that ignited a fire within you, consuming every rational thought.

With a swift, graceful movement, he spun you around, your back meeting the cold, unforgiving surface of the sink counter. The sensation made you shudder against his body, amplifying the electrifying connection between you as he tightened his grip in your hair. His lips molded to yours, the world outside fading into oblivion as you surrendered to the storm of sensations, lost in the overwhelming fervor of his kiss.

"Fuck...you're such a good girl for me..." he pulled back, lips falling to attack your neck. "You'd do anything I fucking said, wouldn't you?"

A gasp escaped your lips as he sank his teeth into your skin, eliciting a delicious mix of pain and pleasure that shot through your senses like lightning. Your fingers instinctively tangled in his disheveled curls, holding onto him as if he were your lifeline, your body still trembling from the aftermath of the classroom encounter.

Words eluded you, your mind clouded with desire and need. "I...I-fuck..."

"Mm," he breathed against your skin, his tongue tracing a slow, tantalizing path up the side of your throat. "You're still sensitive, aren't you, pretty girl..."

"Yes," you gasped, your breath hitching in your throat, desire pooling in the depths of your stomach. His hands found your waist, fingers gripping your skirt tightly, pulling it higher up your hips, setting your senses ablaze. "Gods..."

Mattheo groaned against your skin, his hot breath tickling your ear. With a skillful movement, he shifted one hand, his fingers teasing your heat through the damp fabric of your panties. Your back arched as pleasure washed over you, your body reacting to his touch with unbridled hunger. Pressed against the counter, you squirmed and gasped, utterly consumed by the electrifying intensity of his embrace.

"Shit...still nice and fucking wet for me...you love when I'm in control, don't you?" He snickered, breath washing warm over your ear. "That's why you act like a little fucking brat around me all the time...you want me to put you in your place...you want me to do the most unholiest shit to you imaginable..."

A low, unrestrained groan escaped your lips, the sound echoing in the confined space, surprising even yourself. Your head fell back, offering him better access, as his mouth fervently marked your skin, leaving a trail of purple possessive bruises above your collarbone. Your fingers tightened their hold on his hair, grasping it aggressively as if you could pull your release from his scalp, his assault on your sensitive clit becoming relentless.

"Fuck-yes, Mattheo..." you whined, squirming against his hand, voice torn with pleasure. "I-I love it..."

"Yeah, that's right..." he sneered, his arrogance breaking through his hardened facade. "You want me to use you however I want, whenever I fucking want, don't you..."

His voice turned harsh, a husky growl escaping his lips as his fingers abruptly pulled back, yanking your panties aside before returning to swirl your clit with a relentless rhythm. A cry tore from your throat, louder than you intended, and Mattheo responded with a primal growl--his free hand moving swiftly, clamping over your mouth, muffling your sounds of pleasure as he claimed a new expanse of skin on the other side of your neck with his teeth.

"The things you fucking do to me, Raven..." he growled against your neck, fingers dipping down to your core, slipping inside you without warning. "I wanted to bend you over that desk so fucking bad...make you cum on my cock in front of that whole fucking class..."

Your lids fluttered as his thumb grazed your clit, two fingers slowly pumping in and out of you. "You're such a good little malleable slut I bet you'd have fucking let me, wouldn't you, princess?"

You attempted to nod against his hand, pathetic desperation fueling your insane compliance. It was entirely clear to you that in this moment, you were willing to say anything, do anything, just to coax release from him. Your craving was insatiable, a hunger that consumed you entirely. You needed him, every part of him, everything he was willing to offer, and you were more than prepared to fucking beg for it.

"That's what I fucking thought..." he purred, nipping your earlobe. "You're my desperate little whore, desperate to fucking please me, aren't you?"

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as he spoke, the arousal pooling between your thighs growing even more intense with each syllable. Part of you wanted to deny it, to protest and tell him that you weren't his whore, just to see how much further you could push him, but the words caught in your throat and seemingly dissipated into thin air as he pumped his fingers deeper into you, sending another tidal wave of pleasure through your body--and in response, your forced yourself to nod against his palm.

"Yeah, that's right..." his voice was a growl, his movements becoming more relentless. "Such a bratty little mouth, but when it comes down to it, you have nothing to fucking say..." you whimpered, legs trembling, threatening to give out from under you. "Just because this pussy holds power over me, doesn't mean for a damn second you can tease me like that...I will take you anywhere I want...I will fuck you so hard the people in Hogsmeade will hear your screams..."

He lowered his lips back to your neck, kissing and biting at the sensitive skin there as his fingers continued to work their magic. Gasping, you nodded again, completely melting at his words, the pleasure becoming too intense, too all-consuming as it threatened to overpower you entirely.

Mattheo's palm released your mouth, his fingers diving into your hair, tugging gently as he smothered your lips with his. A gasp escaped you, lost in the fervor of his kiss, your attempts to pull away to catch your breath immediately met with his unyielding force. His mouth moved against yours with a hunger that bordered on ravenous, as if he could devour you whole. Just when you felt your entire being coiling, ready to unravel in the throes of climax, he broke the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours.

"You want to cum for me, princess?" He murmured, tightening his grip in your hair. "Third times a charm, isn't it, baby..."

"Yes. Please-" you squealed, voice torn. "Please!"

"Good girl--so fucking good," he growled, his voice deep and rough with desire. "Cum for me, angel."

The nickname sent a thrill of excitement and warmth rushing through you, your body shaking with pleasure as you felt yourself teetering closer and closer to the edge. With one final thrust of his fingers, Mattheo pushed you over the edge, sending you into the waves of orgasm for the third time today. You let out a gasp that you couldn't hold back, and he quickly covered your mouth with his own--your body shaking with pleasure as waves of ecstasy coursed through every inch of you.

Finally, after what you were certain had to have been an eternity, the waves ebbed away, leaving you feeling breathless and overly sated. Mattheo withdrew his fingers from your throbbing core, a satisfied smile playing across his lips as he met your eyes.

"There's my obedient girl," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before bringing his fingers up to your lips, forcing them past your teeth. "Taste yourself off of me...tell me how fucking good you taste..."

Under the heat of his praise, you were entirely unable to resist--taking his command without protests, obediently sucking on his fingers, tasting your own slick arousal off his skin. You moaned around them, holding his burning stare, the taste sending a fresh wave of need through you.

"You like that?" He purred, his tone an exasperated drawl. "You like tasting what I fucking do to you?"

You nodded, whining in response as he pushed his fingers deeper, forcing a gag before he huffed, ripping them from your mouth without warning. Before you could even think to say or do anything further, his grip on your hair tightened, pulling you forward. You gasped as he spun you around, pressing your front against the hard surface of the counter, and you shivered as you watched his hand wrap around your throat in the reflection in front of you.

"You see that little slut in the mirror?" he hissed, his breath hot against your ear. "She belongs to me."

You groaned, feeling his hand leave your hair before sliding down your back to cup your ass, flipping up your skirt as he pressed his throbbing erection against you, shoving your hips firm into the counter with enough force to make you yelp.

"I think you forgot who holds the power over your fucking goals...yet again," he groaned, tightening his hold on your throat, jerking his insistent erection against your ass. "You want that mentorship, then you're going to have to start watching that dirty little mouth around me more often princess...understand me?"

"Yes," you gasped, the feeling of his hardness pressing against you making your entire body quiver. You hissed the words out through the hold on your neck. "I fucking understand."

"Mm. Yeah you fucking do." He groaned, teeth nipping at your ear. You moaned softly in response, grinding your hips back against him. "Filthy girl. You're going to watch me fuck you."

It was then that Mattheo released your throat, his hand slithering back to hold a firm grip on your hair. With that, he used it to pull your head up and back against his chest, so that you were looking at yourself in the mirror above the sink. After a brief moment of manoeuvring, Mattheo had undone his belt and freed himself--his thick, smooth length pressing against your ass as he seethed in relief, before he reached down and slid his fingers along your slick folds, making you watch as he teased your dripping entrance.

"I wanted to throat fuck you until you begged me for mercy but I genuinely can't fucking wait anymore...I need to get inside this tight little cunt..." you mewled, watching your own desire on display as he circled around your entrance before thrusting two fingers inside you. "I've made you cum three times, Raven...this fuck is for my pleasure, not yours...understand?"

You moaned, nodding your head, feeling the orgasm rise within you as Mattheo pumped his fingers in and out of you with an experienced hand, his grip on your hair tightening.

Noting his dissatisfaction with your lack of words, you quickly gathered yourself and answered. "Yes, Mattheo...I understand..."

As your muscles clenched around his fingers, Mattheo pulled out abruptly, slapping your ass with a hard, firm smack--leaving your cheek stinging in its wake.

"Good girl," he said, positioning himself at your entrance now, teasing you with a few slow, sensual thrusts along your slick slit. "You're mine to use, to play with, to fuck. Say it."

"I'm-fuck!" Your words were cut short as he pushed inside you, splitting you wide with one long, harsh stroke--slamming deep, smacking your cervix with ease. "Shit-"

"Oh, fuck..." he hissed, his lips pressed against your ear. "You're so fucking tight, Raven...fuck, it's like you were made for my fucking cock..."

"Oh..." your sight blurred as you felt every single delicious inch of him inside you, felt him so fucking deep into your stomach that you were certain he'd split you in half if he kept going. "Mattheo-fuck-oh..."

"Say it or I'll fuck you so hard every breath you take tomorrow will remind you of my cock." You could see the pleasure etched on his face as he felt you clench around him, and you knew that he was enjoying this, enjoying every fucking second of it. "Go on, little whore...you can do it..."

"Ah-shit...I'm-" your words were cut short yet again as his hips started to piston in and out of you, hard and fast. He took you with almost ruthless precision--each thrust felt like it was calculated both for his pleasure and to test your endurance. You dug your nails into the countertop, clinging on for dear life as he moved inside of you without mercy. "Gods! Fuck-I'm yours! I'm-oh!-yours...please-"

At your plea, Mattheo huffed, jerking your head back and holding your eyes to his in the mirror as his free hand slipped up your front, finding your jaw and holding it firm in place. You could feel his hips slamming against your ass, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge of losing your sanity, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing through the empty bathroom.

"You're okay...just breathe, Raven," he cooed, releasing his hold on your jaw and moving to your lips, shoving two thick fingers past your teeth. "You can take me...you can take it all, can't you?"

You whimpered in response, feeling tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as he reached for the back of your throat, forcing a gag, his hand in your hair relenting only for a moment before sneaking down and clasping around your neck--holding you firm to his chest as he fucked deep inside your heat. Every inch of your being was focused on the raw, animalistic sensations that ricocheted through your body under his power--his cock spearing you open, splitting you wide with every single thrust.

"Yeah, you can..." he purred, his breath hot against your ear. "That tight little pussy can take this fucking cock..."

Your body trembled with pleasure as Mattheo's low, gravelly voice rumbled through you, his words only serving to increase the intensity of your sensations, emboldening you to take everything he had to offer and then some. With a growl, Mattheo's hand around your throat slowly loosened, gliding down the front of your body until he'd found your clit and began to rub tight, fevered circles against it. You cried out in pleasure, the sound muffled by his fingers still planted firmly in your mouth.

"That's it," he groaned, his lips pressed hotly against your ear as his hips continued to slam against you. "Watch yourself in the mirror, Raven...watch how this perfect little body breaks for me..."

In a desperate haze of pleasure, you met his gaze in the mirror, watching the way your body writhed under his demanding touch. The fire in your belly smoldered, stoked higher by the relentless pounding of Mattheo's cock. You groaned against his fingers, drool spilling from your lips and dribbling down your chin. You were so close, so unbelievably close to teetering over the edge for the fourth fucking time in one day, you couldn't even begin to comprehend it--your mind felt like it was about to melt into a mere puddle at your feet.

"There we go," he cooed, sensing your incoming climax, his fingers quickening their pace. "Watch yourself cum like a whore on my cock. You love this, don't you? You love being fucked like the dirty little slut you are."

His eyes roamed over you possessively, and you knew that he was taking in every detail, committing this moment to memory. His movements grew rougher, more insistent, as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel your muscles tightening, and you let out a strangled moan as you finally broke for him, for the fourth fucking time. Your pussy spasmed around his cock as you came hard, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm.

"Shit-" Mattheo huffed, his own eyes fluttering shut as your pussy milked his cock. "You squeeze me so fucking good when you cum-fuck..."

You knew that he was close now, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he pounded into you with all his strength, rubbing you through the aftershocks of your orgasm until he pulled his hand away, both hands shifting to your hips, gripping you with enough force to bruise.

"Fuck-I'm gonna fill you up, baby..." you felt him twitching inside you, you felt his cock practically begging to cum. "Tell me you want my cum, Raven...beg me to cum inside this tight little pussy..."

"Please-" you squeaked, his thrusts turning erratic, his breath sputtering against your neck. "I want your cum, Mattheo! Please!"

"Shit...fuck-" finally, he let out a feral growl, his hands tightening around your hips as he thrust into you one last time before he stalled, his nails digging into your flesh with so much force you nearly winced.

You felt him twitching inside you, felt his cum pouring inside your heat as he came hard, his orgasm almost overwhelming you with its intensity. Gasping for breath, you leaned heavily against the counter, feeling completely spent, and Mattheo's arms slowly left your hips, slithering around your waist, holding you against his chest as he pressed a few small, sporadic kisses to the back of your neck.

After he'd finally come down from his high, and the both of your pulses had somewhat slowed, Mattheo pulled out, quickly moving to tuck himself away while you began piecing yourself back together. After a few silent moments, you felt composed enough to break it.

"Remember when you said you didn't want to take my virginity?..." you said, a sly smile playing on your lips, though you attempted to conceal it. "What a pretty little lie that was."

Mattheo stole a stoic glance at you, his emotions carefully veiled, as he ran a hand through his tousled hair, trying to untangle the sweat-drenched strands from his forehead. With a deliberate yet seemingly effortless motion, he reached for his jacket, the fabric clinging to his form in the heat, his jaw clenched in an attempt to suppress the grin that threatened to break free.

"That wasn't a lie, Raven." He said, his voice carrying a hint of sincerity beneath the playful banter.

Your eyebrow quirked up in curiosity. "Oh, is that so?"

"I didn't just want it," he confessed, his tone steady yet laced with unspoken emotions, as he meticulously donned his jacket, the fabric rustling softly. Moving closer, he closed the gap between you, his hand tenderly cupping your jaw, tilting your head back to meet his eyes. "I fucking needed it."

Your breath hitched, need screaming in your lungs with every inhale. Four orgasms in and somehow he still found a way to make your fucking thighs scream for more. "You're unbelievably insatiable, Mattheo Riddle..."

"Yeah, but so are you, princess..." he purred, leaning down closer, brushing his lips against yours. "I always knew you'd give it to me, it was just a matter of when...I'd have waited forever just to fuck you like this..."

You huffed, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "Your arrogance is insufferable."

"Am I wrong, though?" He murmured, a sly smirk playing on his lips as he brushed them teasingly against yours. "Godric knows I need to ruin that tight little cunt of yours...but he also knows I'm the only one you'd ever let do any of this to you..."

"Mm, you caught me..." you whispered, your lips meeting his in a fleeting, feather-light kiss. "Will you take that mentorship for me?"

"Perhaps I will," he replied, his fingers leaving your jaw and slipping into your hair, his touch both gentle and possessive. "But I suggest you refrain from pissing me off like that ever again...don't think it'd look too good on you if you wrote 'Mr. Riddle got mad and fucked me into the sink like the dumb little whore that I am' on the detailed log, now would it?"

You scoffed, your playful snarl hanging in the air, a testament to your exasperation, yet beneath it, a thread of amusement danced in your eyes, unable to be suppressed.

"You're truly something else," you murmured, your voice a blend of vexation and reluctant admiration. "I will figure you out, Mr. Riddle."

With that, he relinquished his grip on you, his eyes gleaming with a challenge. "Not before I figure you out, first."

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Chapter 21->

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