Dr Facilier one shots (fem reader( <commission>

Dues NSFW

He doesn't /want/ to kill you. But he does know he /needs/ to. Under his enchantments you're calm. You don't feel afraid, even though you can't be certain how you ended up lying in the darkness of the Shadowman's bed.

"You understand, don't ya, sweetheart?"

No. You don't, but it all feels like a dream.

"I need your blood, baby, it's nothin personal. Just a desperate man in a helluva lotta debt."

His touch feels divine, as he gathers your dress into his hands, pushing it over your hips then roaming over your thighs gently.

"I'll make it up t'ya. Do we got a deal?" Dr. Facilier whispers. He slips a hand beneath you, unzipping the dress and discarding it.

You sigh, head so light as you spread your thighs on instinct and reach to him.

He takes your hand into his, pressing kisses into your skin. The thought he will be the only man to ever touch you further fuels his arousal.

"Beautiful..." he mutters, leaning in closer to capture your lips in a deep kiss. You softly whine in bliss when his tongue slips past your teeth, and you hook your legs around his waist, pulling him closer against you.

He wasn't expecting you to react so well. He'd anticipated a helpless girl lying passively under him, out of her mind from love potion; yet here you were working your lips against his and guiding a hand that had fallen to your waist up to your breast.

The way he grasped your soft breast in absolute veneration was alone worth dying for. When he breaks the hungry kiss to instead shift down to lick over your breast, your breath hitches, and sharp pain follows as bruises blossum under his teeth. He presses a trail of kisses across your chest before he takes hold of your hips, pinning you down as he begins to slowly sink his cock into you.

When you're sure it's impossible for him to press any further, he suddenly drives the other half of his cock through mercilessly in a deep thrust, savoring the awe that underlies your breathless cry.

He remains fully sheathed for what seems like a long while, whispering praise as he holds you.

You grin in the darkness, feeling so full. The stretch burns, but it's the best you've ever felt.

"Doin so well, baby..." he says lowly in your ear. He sits up, hands at your shoulders for leverage as he rolls his his hips. Once he parts you murmur, "No..." You're too empty without him. You need him.

He chuckles, flipping you over and lifting your hips, driving back inside you and fucking you into the bed.

Each thrust steals your breath away, but you begin to remember stepping into the shop. Asking for a love potion. It still feels as though you've had an entire bottle of your favorite wine. The bliss is all encompassing.

You close your eyes until you realize you've been moved again, onto your side now, facing him again. He's kissing you, and candle flames burn through the heavy darkness.

There's a touch of sadness in violet eyes. He has work to do, brandishing a fine knife. Softly etching sigils into your skin when you're on your back once more.

He looks good with blood on his hands, and he doesn't stop grinding into you.

"You okay?"

You smile serenely, hips meeting his movements. "I love you."

This gives him pause, guilt sinking into his heart just for a moment. Maybe this was too cruel, even for him. But it couldn't change the necessity of it.

He kisses one of the sigils, a voodoo veve marking you as an offering to his spirits. The blood seems sweeter from the love potion, and he moans in delight.

A part of him hates himself for all of this, but not enough to stop, and not enough to keep from filling you with his semen.

His lips press to yours again. Without any warning he shoves the blade through your chest. He lifts up from you, and your eyes widen in horror. He hadn't meant to break the spell over you, only to quickly end this — it was either this or slit your throat, and now it is apparent it isn't the quick death he had intended.

Tears fill your eyes as the agony continues to set in. White edges your vision, and although he sounds distanced from you now, you hear him speaking in another language, working to keep himself composed as the way you look to him breaks what's left of his wicked heart.

The tears blur your vision and streak your face, each breath more painful than the last. You hear him mutter in English a regretful, "I'm sorry, really am."

Spots of colors spread through your vision, heart pounding loudly in your head. The colors fade and your heart slows, darkness creeping upon the edges of the narrowing white in your sight. As you pass out, the last you feel is his lips over yours.

Seconds later death follows the fainting.

Days pass and Dr. Facilier isn't quite as charasmatic with customers as he typically is. That's alright. He has herbal remedies and oils to focus on. Curse jars and lucky charms.

He anoints a candle with an oil meant to bring in money and sets it on a shelf. He writes out a price for it and turns, catching sight of an entity quite different from the shadows he's accustomed to. He mutters your name then the suprise passes. He turns away, telling you coldly, "You need to leave. Move along now willingly, or I WILL force you out — and banishment ain't /pleasant./"

He crosses the parlour to sit at his divination table, taking his deck into his hands and passing each card through mugwort smoke.

You approach despite his threats, and you sink down to sit at his feet in a show of submission. Minutes pass as he draws cards, looking over them in silence.

Finally he glances to you, and you lower your gaze. Facilier lights a cigarette and continues working with his cards. He remains quiet until an appointment shows up, but the customer cannot see you.

Once the reading is complete and Facilier has looked over the money, the customer takes his leave and you feel Facilier's hand in your hair.

With the other hand he draws another spread of cards as you lean against him. With each card he looks over, it becomes clearer the future the two of you could have had. When he looks to you it's with a crumbling sorrow.

"Why're you here?" he eventually asks wearily.

You reach for his hand and rise to your feet, moving onto his lap. He sighs, meeting you for a slow kiss.

He smells good. Sandalwood, vervain, hyssop. His arms wrap around you and iridescent tears shimmer on your face.

/I don't want to leave./ you tell him.

You bring your forehead to his shoulder and he simply holds you.

"Why? Are you afraid?"

/I am alone./

"I won't make ya leave." he murmurs, stroking your hair.

You lift your face to brush your lips over his, and his hands fall to your thighs as you caress his chest.