#(not really but just in case anyone could possibly help)

[shysuccubusstuff]

Milking time pt. 2

Content: Cow Hybrid! Caleb + Rancher! reader + Non proof-reader; Masturbation + Scent kink + Breeding kink + Size difference + Cunnilingus + Tummy bulge

Note: I was listening to one of these NSFW audios and I just got inspired so yeah, here it is! Idk if people want to hear it tho :P It's not really related to the actual content, but I just liked it ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ I can't believe I've been writing this for more than three days, sometimes my brain just doesn't want to cooperate cause I keep realising I may sound a bit repetitive at times... I hope you all like it!! (๑>◡<๑)

It had been quite a few months since Cow Hybrid! Caleb had been able to sneak into your bedroom, his cock about to burst as he basically begged you for help. Still, you had been unable to act as you had used to, your whole body reacting each time his calloused hands got close to you, your mind being suddenly flowed by the images, the feeling of your hands rubbing his... How were you supposed to work as always after that? Anyone would probably understand your position! Well, anyone except Caleb, of course.

Since that had happened, he had become even clingier than usual, constantly following around you like a lost puppy, his ears lowered as he tried to hide his huge frame behind a wooden post, his tail peaking from it even regardless of how much he tried to stop it from showing. He didn't really understand what was up with your sudden change in attitude, he had been your favourite since he had arrived, was it because of something he had done? Maybe you had started to hate him and wanted him dead? He would happily send himself to the closest butchery if it meant making you happy again.

Luckiily for him, the perfect chance for the two of you to be together after your dear aunt told you to go to the city a couple of hours away, as the most important fair for ranchers was about to begin. She briefly explained what you had to do, simply listening to the many conferences regarding the possible changes for the ranchers' rights and privileges, simple enough, right? Still, your aunt told you to go with Caleb, as he had never been there, and you really needed some "buff man" just for some of the ranchers to take you seriously, as annoying as it was.

With all said and done, your aunt prepared everything you both could possibly need, from your clothes to many different delicious plates in case the two of you missed her. She kissed both of your foreheads, waving goodbye at the two of you before going back to her chores.

Well, all left was spending the next five days there, it was fine, what could possibly go wrong?

The first three days had gone smoothly, with the two of you spending as little time as possible, constantly going around the fair talking to the many old friends of your aunt, letting them ramble about how it was when they were younger and similar anecdotes, with Caleb simply following you around like a lost puppy, staying in complete silence during the whole day, as you quickly fell asleep as soon as your face hit the pillow.

Caleb knew that he had to be patient, after all, despite hybrids are quite similar to humans, they did still present various differences, specially when it came to this kind of thing. He knew it, he kept reminding himself of that. But it was to no avail, really. His chest kept hurting each time he saw you speaking to all those other men, always smiling at them as they talked to you about some unimportant matter. Still, he couldn't help but act that way, rummaging around your luggage to look for his prize. It took him a while to find them, but as soon as he did he could already feel his head getting lighter, his face now buried on the soft fabric, inhaling with force, his hand already trailing down his body and removing all the buttons that kept his lower hidden. He got up, moving to the small bathroom and sitting on the toilet, muffling his moans with your underwear as he moved his hand up and down, his chest moving up and down as his breath quickened.

This kept going for a while, with Caleb trying his best to muffle his moans as much as he could, whispering soft praises to you even despite you were still asleep. "So good... You smell so good... Can't wait to breed you..." Small tears came running down his cheeks, the tip of his cock leaking as he saw the floor stained from his cum. "I'm sorry... I'm trying so hard for you... Just for you... Ugh... I love you, I love you..." Caleb whimpered as he finally felt like his head was a bit less crowded from lewd thoughts about you, the shame starting to make his face feel quite hot.

Caleb finally reached his limit by the night of the fourth day. The two of you were supposed to leave the next morning around the early morning, as you had already planned helping your sweet aunt with all the farm work that she may have been unable to do due to her old age.

Just as you were about to throw yourself to the bed, Caleb tugged from your pajama, his soft ears lowered as much as possible as fat tears fell down his face. "How much are you planning to ignore me? I know I misbehaved but I don't want you to keep on ignoring me... Please." Caleb got on his knees, his hands and head rubbing against your hands as a way to calm himself down. "If you really hated it, I won't ever do it again... I'll let you find someone for me to be with... Just don't ignore me... I can't... I just can't handle it. I've been trying to, these past couple days... I don't think I can go any longer without you." Caleb gaze lifted from the floor, looking at you with his purple eyes glistening under the dim lights.

"I... I'm sorry, Caleb. It's just that, I kind of... Well, I kept getting like, reminders of well, what happened between us and I kind of... couldn't help but feel a bit, ashamed?... About it, anyways, I didn't mean to hurt you, Caleb. You know you're my favourite, right?" You caressed Caleb's cheeks, petting his hair and moving it away so you could see his full face. Caleb pressed his face against the palm of your hands, his expression lightening up, suddenly getting up from the floor and getting on top of you, his cheeks flushing from pure bliss.

"Really?! You don't hate me? I'm so glad! I just... I'm sorry. My... my body seems to have become, attached to your scent, so each time I smell you it's... It's just too much for my body." Caleb moved away, sitting by your side and letting you see just how much it had affected him. "I'm sorry... I'm really trying so hard to keep myself on check... Just, I just didn't want to keep on using them without your knowledge... Let me just go to the bathroom, I'll be back---" You grabbed his hand, forcing him to sit back down on the bed and keeping your hand tightly grapped around his. "I... I can help you a bit, just if you want--" Caleb moved swiftly, suddenly having you under him once again, his hand already removing his overalls together with his undershirt.

"I'll be careful, if I hurt you just pull from my horns, ok?" Caleb started to kiss your whole face, leaving soft pecks as he slowly made his way towards your neck, his right hand massaging around your tummy, then removing your trousers together with your underwear in the blink of an eye, leaving them on the bed before focusing once again on you. "Such a pretty pussy... It looks so tasty... Let me just have a little taste, please?" Caleb moved down, getting on his knees on the floor before pulling from you by your ankles in order to get you to be close to te edge of the bed. He carefully put both legs on his shoulders, opening them with his hands before starting to leave soft kisses all over your lower half, your hands petting his hair as a way to avoid squirming as much as possible. "No running from me, baby." Caleb smiled, his mouth suddenly starting to suck on your clit as he used his fingers to play with your entrance, only moving up and down so as to lubricate his fingers. "So good, pips... Keep calm, I'm in charge right now." Caleb went back to focusing on his task, his tongue lapping your poor clit with his long tongue, one of his fingers slowly entering you, slowly opening you as he kept playing with that sensitive bud, making your whole body squirm as the stimulation started to feel a bit overwhelming.

Not like it really mattered to Caleb, his mind already far too gone from eating you out, that delicious scent making his mind go blank regardless of how hard you tried to get him to slow down, ignoring all the soft hits on his shoulder together with all the pleas each time you came all over his tongue. It wasn't until your whole body was about to give up on you, your legs trembling as if you had been working out for far too long, that you chose to grab his horns, his eyes finally focusing on you, getting away from your poor overstimulated pussy as he finally took a deep breath. "So-sorry! I got a bit lost there, promise I will behave next... Can we keep going?" Caleb looked at you with those sweet puppy eyes, his hands massaging your love handles as he waited for your response.

"Just... Just the tip, ok? Your cock is too big for me to... uhm... take." Caleb nodded, grabbing his cock with his right hand and giving your entrance a few slaps on the entrance, his eyes once again completely glued on the way your entrance kept twitching each time he hit it with the tip of his cock. Caleb moved his hands for a moment, holding both of your hands as his cock started to make his way inside you.

"Take a deep breath, pips... I'm still putting in the tip..." Caleb kept kissing your lips as his cock entered you, the stretch making you feel as if you were about to break just from the pressure that you felt in your tummy. "There... It wasn't so hard, right? Now we can take as much time as you need, no need to rush..." Caleb now focused on kissing your sweaty face, his eyes glistening with the pure feeling of love, hands interlocked as he forced himself to remain as still as he could.

And you knew you were supposed to stay still, let your body get accustomed to the... length. Still, you just had to prove yourself, wrapping your legs around his hips before suddenly pressing against his hips, forcing the weight of Caleb to rely against your smaller frame, the sudden pressure making all the air leave your lungs before you could take a deep breath as Caleb immediately moved away, his expression changing to one of concern as his eyes checked for any sign of discomfort. This concern soon changed into a slightly annoyed look, his eyes becoming a bit darker the moment he focused on your entrance. "Guess it's my fault for not expecting it... Since you want to be a brat, may as well treat you like one." Caleb smile turned a bit sadistic, lifting your whole body with ease as he moved the two of you towards the end of the bed, sitting just in front of the mirror. "Make sure to get your brain to remember this, baby." Caleb kept you still, slowly entering you. You clenched your eyes shut as the slighty painful stretch took place, trying your best to avoid seeing the lewd image of your pussy being forced open by Caleb's cock. After all, it wasn't as if you were able to do much more, with Caleb holding both your legs on a tight grip as a way to get you to keep the image as a reminder.

Despite Caleb's attempt of scaring you, he knew exactly just how important it was for you to get completely used to it, getting the horses to act as they should. "Now open wide..." Caleb moved, lifting your whole body with his arms, slowly lowering it as he slowly forced the tip of his cock inside, bitting his lips as he tried his best to keep calm. "Just like that... Relax, I ain't running nowhere, don't squeeze me so hard, pips... It's hard to stay calm." Caleb kissed the top of your head, letting you rest your back against his chest as he was finally able to bottom down once more, the feeling of being full being just enough for you to feel as if you were out of breath.

"Caleb~... You're too big..." You whined, the feeling mixing with the heat that you kept feeling on your face as you noticed the bulge that had formed on your tummy, forcing you to hide your face just as a way to avoid seeing it. As soon as Caleb noticed that, he removed them from your face, using one of his hands to force you to look into your reflection. "No running, pips, gotta make sure you get a detailed view of just how good I can make you feel." Caleb wrapped his arms around the back of your knees, making sure that you got a perfect view of the way your pussy greedily ate his cock each time he pull a bit of it out, making it an almost hypnotising view, seeing it enter you, then suddenly pulling away before giving you a kind smile, almost as if he was mocking you each time you tried to squirm away from his iron grip.

It took you just a few minutes to finally get used to the feeling, turning what were soft whines into lewd moans that kept escaping from your lips, eyes rolling back each time Caleb rubbed against that slightly rough spot. Suddenly, Caleb moved one of his arms, keeping your whole body lifted with just one arm as he used the free one to rub your tummy, making small pressure every now and then each time he pushed his whole lenght inside, ignoring each high pitched moan and whine that left your lips every time he forced you to cum all around his huge cock. "Caleb!... Too much, can't keep cumming! Please, please~...!" Caleb ignored you once more, kissing the top of your head as he kept hammering your gummy walls, making sure to stay a few seconds outside before forcing his lenght rapidly inside. "Sorry pips... I gotta make sure I get you all full~... Gotta prove I'm the best one for you." Caleb kept this fast rhythm for a while, bitting softly on your neck each time he came inside you, "a way to mark you" he said.

By the time you were finally released from his grip, the digital clock was already far past 02:00, your whole body sticky from the sweat, together with the mixture of your fluids, and the semen that was slowly leaving your pussy. Just as you were about to simply let yourself fall asleep from the exhaustion, Caleb took your body, carrying it to the warm bath and letting you sit on the tub that had already been filled. "Gotta make sure you feel comfortable enough to sleep, can't have you seeing aunty all dried up." Caleb peppered soft kisses all over your face, rubbing a warm towel all over your body and letting you fall asleep with ease as you felt him clean all your body.

[paintedwritings]

The Battle Between Azriel!Bonus POV

Pairing: Azriel x Reader (She/her pronouns used)

Word Count: 2.6k

Read Part 1 and Part 2 Here!

Summary: Azriel’s perspective when first seeing the reader again!

Warning/Notes: I originally wrote this when writing the first draft of The Battle Between and ultimately decided it wasn’t really necessary for the story to move along, as fun as it was to write. So I thought I’d just post it for fun in case anyone’s interested.

✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩

Azriel

Azriel could not believe his luck.

He couldn't possibly imagine what he'd done for the Mother to bless him with such good fortune. Usually, he didn't bother thanking the fates, or the Cauldron, or anything really. He simply believed that his actions—his dark deeds as Spymaster, the blood on his hands, the secrets he kept—would one day catch up to him.

Until they did, he expected nothing more than a dark and desolate ache where his own desires once lived. He didn't deserve softness. He didn't deserve light.

But that was fine with him. 

He had his family, the Inner Circle, a unit he would scorch the world for. As far as he was concerned, his purpose was to protect them, to keep them safe from the creeping shadows he alone could navigate. Perhaps that was why the Mother hadn't banished him to the deepest parts of Hel: He was useful. He was a weapon, and weapons served a purpose, even if they were eternally broken. This unspoken pact with fate, this grim acceptance of his lot, had been the foundation of his existence for centuries.

Yet, an inexplicable shift had occurred. 

A strange lightness had begun to settle in that void in his chest—a feeling so foreign, so unexpected, that it baffled him. It had started the night he'd brought her home, the first true peace he'd known in five centuries. It lingered now, a faint, sweet echo that subtly eased the constant thrum of his shadows, even as he steadfastly ignored the more insistent pull they exerted towards a specific, apple-blossom scented corner of Velaris. He couldn't name it, dared not try. But whatever this unusual phenomenon was, it felt suspiciously like a reprieve. And it was leading him, broken hand and all, to Madja's clinic.

When he realized his hand wouldn’t mend itself he called on Madja. And the older fae had told him he was a fool and she didn’t have time to deal with his stupid decisions. She had pointed him in the direction of the clinic. In the direction of her.

When he’d walked into that clinic he’d been ready to get this process over with. He had tried to train earlier the day before and found the pain to be excruciating. When he woke up the next morning with it swollen and the pain increased tenfold, he’d caved. He certainly was not privy to losing the limb because of his ego. He deftly avoided the little fact that the near constant pain was the only time his mind hadn’t been stuck on repeat, Y/n the only language he seemed to understand.

He hadn’t even needed to find the clinic, his shadows had practically skipped the whole way there. He never would have guessed why their behavior had shifted so viscerally the last few weeks. That trip to the clinic had been the first time in weeks they seemed to respond to his will at all. 

It boggled him. He couldn’t possibly fathom what had changed. Not once in five hundred years had they disobeyed or simply been unable to shift to where he wanted. They were his sentient beings, his to will, to direct, and to control–yet, they weighed his magic down like stones.

He hadn’t had much time to ponder the why, however, because once he walked into the clinic, something so close to the calm he'd known that night washed over him. His shadows scattered around the room, searching endlessly for something. Their slithering forms encasing his ears as they chanted endlessly:

Here. Here. Here.

This way. Follow, come.

Pretty, pretty, pretty.

Help, she’ll help.

They had swarmed him so uncontrollably, he had been about ten seconds from swatting them when he’d heard her. The soft footsteps that walked confidently, clicking softly on the linoleum flooring.

And then he had turned.

And there she was.

Her dark wisps of hair tucked into a messy ponytail, a pencil tucked behind her ear. Deep midnight blue scrubs hugging every delicious curve of her. He did his best to drag his gaze from her legs, her hips, from her. When he did finally manage to control himself, large, beautiful eyes stared at him, a small ‘o’ on her mouth. Her soft, plush wonderful mouth that he’d had the pleasure, and torment, of tasting once before.

Fuck. 

Then she licked her lips, as if she were devouring him in her mind and loving the taste. It had been sinful, but to hell if he wasn’t ready to get on his knees before her. His pants tightened at the sight, his mind immediately recalling the way he’d had her pinned to his bed a mere few weeks ago, how he had touched, and stroked, and been inside of her.

And then she was in front of him, and she was touching him, and the pain in his hand had immediately subsided when she did. He had let out a breath that had gotten stuck so deep in his throat he hadn’t realized it was there until she touched him.

A calm, comfortable frost had taken over his veins the longer she held his hand. He’d murmured random words, not even caring if they made sense because she was here. In front of him, and for some reason he couldn’t seem to focus on anything but the utter elation that oozed from his shadows, from him.

Her scent weaving into his sense, scattering all of the tension lining his body, something in his soul singing at the proximity. It had taken everything in him not to reach his other hand out and tuck the stray hairs behind her ear, to lean down and place a kiss, a breath of fresh air, on her forehead. To do all the things he had wanted to do the morning after they’d been together.

But, she had disappeared. Hadn’t so much as bothered to say goodbye. She obviously didn’t have any interest in getting to know him better. So against his complete will, he retracted just enough, shifting his feet.

As she asked him some questions, the sound of her soft, velvet voice settled beneath his skin. “Yes, Azriel, it’s broken, shattered would be more precise,” He eyes dipped to her lips as she spoke his name. Hearing it fall from her lips like it belonged there. He had known it was shattered, and could feel the sharp edges of his bone fragments when he tried to put pressure on it, or do anything with it, really. 

Her face did not match her voice, however. In fact, she looked more concerned the longer she held and adjusted his hand. Through it all though, he didn’t feel a lick of pain, he couldn’t see any outward sign of her magic. He could feel it, the small, delicate string that weaved its way through his shattered hand. It wasn’t painful, he wasn’t even sure he’d notice it if he wasn’t aware that she was doing it.

Sweat slicked her brow, her hands so sure, as if she had done this a million times. He remembered mentioning that she was a healer, and that she was celebrating her acceptance into a prestigious internship. 

Who it was for hadn’t come up. He had known she was intelligent just from speaking to her, and being a healer was no easy feat. But to intern under Madja? One of the most revered healers throughout Prythian. The healer who had been in their family circle for centuries, now. 

He didn’t know much about her healing protegees, but he knew they were the remarkable ones, the ones that would be able to help change medicine and how they defined it.

It only made him like her more.

It also led to another revelation. Their meeting was inevitable. The Inner Circle, particularly Elain and Feyre, worked closely with Madja and her interns. He’d have to remember to ask his High Lady or her sister how intense the internship was. Not knowing how the inner workings of her organization to the letter didn’t mean he never interacted with her healers. In fact, he’d come across quite a few in the past several years.

He had no doubt, even if they hadn’t met at Rita’s that night, they would have met some other time. And, well, that gave him just a bit of hope that maybe, he’d have the opportunity of getting to know her better. 

“How long ago did this happen?” She pressed as she walked around gathering all sorts of supplies. He wondered if this was her office, or her treatment room at least. There were all kinds of cute knick knacks littered all over the place. Plants– aloe, chamomile, lavender, even peppermint it looked like– hung and lined her windows. There were even some ironic signs displayed, and something that looked an awful lot like a brain that said, “I lobe you,” he had to hide the small smile on his face. This certainly gave him a lot of information on who she was, at least as a healer.

“A few days.”

“I need you to be more specific than that, shadowsinger. Sit.” She demanded, as he watched her grab a rubber band and – he nearly lurched off the bed before catching himself. Had she just hit that against her skin? Why in the Cauldron would she do that? An uncomfortable prickle formed along the edges of his mind as he imagined the pain it would cause, no matter how brief. He wanted it to stop, couldn’t bring himself to look further into the despair that one sight caused him.

“Two days ago. I–” He choked, trying to reign in his actions, to keep his ass firmly planted in this seat. She was in full healer mode, hardly any flickers of emotion when she looked at him. “I punched the wall,” he said, shame coating his tongue. He had gotten angry, had let his emotions take control of him. It wasn’t like him, and he loathed it. He didn’t want her anywhere near that part of him.

When he explained the circumstance he had merely shrugged, “I wasn’t thinking straight.” Hoping she wouldn’t push, that she’d accept it for the cop-out it was.

She went through her findings, leaving him with fewer questions than he expected. She was clear, articulate, and seemed to know exactly what she was doing. Seeing her in this environment, comparing it to how he had come to know her– it all made sense, it meshed and curled perfectly.

Even his shadows had calmed in her presence, the tendrils keeping their difference, and thankfully giving him some reprieve from the incessant chants about how beautiful she is. The only times they stirred was when she let that damn rubber band fly to her wrist.

She’d let it hit her flesh nearly ten times in the past seven and a half minutes. Each flick bringing him one step closer to declaring war against all rubber bands.

She hadn’t even hesitated when he’d asked if it could be fixed, she had merely handed him a stack of papers and tried to brandish him off onto another healer. To hell with that. He’d just found her, and he was damned if he wasn’t going to do his best to keep her in his life. Even if it was as a friend.

He liked Y/n. 

Plain and simple.

The past few weeks had felt slow and agonizing with the image, the memory of her locked inside of his mind. An endless loop of what-ifs and whys. The only thing he knew for certain is she was here, not a ghost, not gone, but right here in front of him. And she is kind, intelligent and passionate. 

“As long as you don’t use it, try and keep it elevated, and-under no circumstances- should you be training, capiche?” He had unfortunately figured that out the hard way. He had tried to dodge a particularly nasty throw from Cassian, his hands had gone up in a defensive stance, his fist catching the broken remains of his bones. Azriel had gone to his room after that, nursing his poor hand the way he would need to nurse his ego if he had to go to a healer for something so stupid.

Holding back a grin and his annoyance, not at her but the circumstances of having to be out of training, he wondered who used the word, ‘capiche’ anymore. She looked deadly serious, her eyes harder than he’d ever seen as she laid down the law with him. It was incredibly sexy.

All he could think about was how he’d do anything to appease her.

The remains of his smile slipped away, because she snapped that damn– he watched a shadow trail along the red welt growing rapidly. The sentient rascal doing its best to halt her actions without outright yanking the thing off of her.

She had seemed surprised when he asked her to be his healer, as if the notion of him wanting to spend any time with her was crazy.

He didn’t like that at all.

Thankfully for him, it looked like she would be stuck with him for at least a few days, he could work with that.

“You’re really not gonna like my restrictions for you,” He didn’t doubt that, certainly didn’t make him change his mind.

Before he could stop himself, the truth slipped past his lips, “If taking a few weeks off training means getting to see you more, it’ll be worth it.” 

He watched her stumble, while sitting down, biting his cheek to contain the grin that was rapidly becoming a trend around this woman. It was dangerous how much he liked it.

“I’m sorry, what?” She began ruthlessly snapping that band around her wrist, seeming unaware of the small pools of blood starting to well. His teeth clenched, his muscles twitching. 

His non-injured hand shot to her wrist, trying and failing to say anything as he stopped her movement in one gentle motion. His thumb rubbed the inside of her wrist as he murmured,“Please, stop doing that.” a desperate plea in his voice. 

Touching her had definitely been a bad idea. Unconsciously he ran his thumb along the pattern of her veins. Her skin was as soft as he remembered, a stark comparison to his own scarred flesh. He swiftly removed his hand, unable to watch something so pure, be tainted by his marred existence.

She opened her mouth as if she were going to say something, but he watched as she played whatever conversation in her mind and quickly tensed. Her mouth closing and her gaze shifting from his almost bashedly before turning around, avoiding his eyes altogether.

She seemed…nervous.

It was endearing, he couldn’t help the joy in his voice as he asked,“Would you like to have dinner with me?”

She turned around so swiftly, he had the joy of watching her turn cherry red from her collarbones to the top of her head. He couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out, true amusement dancing in his eyes despite the circumstances.

“Azriel! If I’m going to fix your hand you cannot ask me things like that.” She baffled him, and he enjoyed watching her blush too much to never see it again.

“Why not?” She had let him take her out once, maybe he’d be lucky enough to do it again.

“I’m your healer for starters, it's– it’s completely inappropriate.” Trying to put herself together and look unaffected– she did not succeed.

“So I’m not allowed to ask you out while you’re healing me?” 

“Exactly.”

“I guess I’ll just wait until we’re done then.” 

She blinked at him, her head already shaking. He decided it was time to go, the two having planned a time tomorrow for her to get started. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Little Ghost,” The amusement seeped through his voice as a lightness that rarely anyone got to experience from the spymaster, danced along his shoulders, his very being.

For the first time in a long time, he was looking forward to tomorrow.

[screamlet]

For the BT cuddle prompts, can I get a Number 30 with a large drink and fries?

hello and thank you for waiting at the drive thru! this is (loosely) cuddling out of necessity (30) and maybe, just maybe, one day one of these will be not so sad. :) tommy needs a favor, 750ish words, post s8.

---

Ravi's Uber had come first and Buck's was still five minutes away, the ETA getting later as he watched his driver weave around the map. He put it away to stop himself from getting annoyed, in case his loose lips said something bitchy to the driver.

Buck had finally managed, on one of these nights out, to lose himself a little. The cocktails hit harder and his eyes had roved the bar with curiosity, even if they hadn't lingered long. It had been a while since he'd felt that spark looking at people, the one that whispered hints about possibility. He hadn't followed through, though, not wanting to ditch Ravi and not—

He was ready for looking, but not for wanting or taking. Not yet. But it was a start.

Except that now he could feel that buzz under his skin taking a turn from pleasant to morose: why didn't he want to talk to anyone now that Ravi had left; why hadn't he touched anyone since Tommy months ago; why had he been feeling so good tonight and now he wasn't? Buck shook his head and took out his phone again to check on his driver when, suddenly, his phone was face down on the bar and someone had heavily taken a seat next to him.

"Hey," Tommy whispered. "I need a favor."

Buck blinked at him, then glanced at his phone. Or, at his hand on top of his phone, and Tommy's hand on top of Buck's. "Are you real?" Buck asked. "I had tequila. Tequila sunrises so they—they were good. A few of them."

Tommy tilted his head, smiling. "I didn't picture you as a tequila sunrise kind of guy."

Buck couldn't help following the tilt of his head, too. "Ravi noticed someone across the room had on a shirt with that pattern and I really wanted one all of a sudden."

Something flickered across Tommy's expression. "You wanted… a tequila sunrise."

Buck couldn't help himself. "I ordered a tequila sunrise." He cleared his throat and asked, "So what's the favor?"

"You're doing it already, actually," Tommy said as he leaned into Buck's space. "Someone I was talking to won't take a hint so… you're the hint."

Buck grinned. He felt himself light up at something so small. "I am?"

"Don't look so surprised," Tommy laughed. Buck and his eyes couldn't stop himself, the way they automatically tracked Tommy's every move, laugh, shift in his seat, everything. Tommy met his eyes again and shook his head. "This—this is stupid. I won't keep you much longer."

"Keep me longer." On the bar, Buck lifted his hand so he could rest it on Tommy's. "Maybe he's not getting the hint. Are you getting the hint?"

"You." Tommy gently traced a line down Buck's cheek until his thumb rested in Buck's not-as-impressive cleft. "I think you've seen a few too many of those sunrises for any hints."

Buck stood up from his seat and slipped his phone into his pocket. He stood in front of Tommy, who didn't hesitate to spread a little and let Buck stand between his legs. "No, I've had just enough."

Tommy's breath hitched as they stared at each other. He wet his lips slightly, like he wasn't even thinking about what he was doing, that was how much he wanted Buck.

And then Buck pulled him in for a hug, his chin hooking over Tommy's shoulder. He could feel Tommy's confusion for a beat before hugging Buck back, his big hands spread across Buck's shoulders, his back.

"He'll get the hint," Buck whispered, more into Tommy's shoulder than anything else. "You're not looking to hook up tonight. You found your sad ex in a bar and wanted to catch up before his Uber pulls up and gets him out of here, then you can go home because he bummed you out. And the next time you go out, you'll find someone better."

Buck pulled away with a small half-smile for Tommy. "I'm gonna go wait for my ride outside. I'll—" Buck bit his own lips, biting back a smile. "I owe you some favors so, uh. Call and collect more often, okay? I'll see you."

He took a step away, but found himself yanked back into Tommy's arms for another hug. "Your phone hasn't buzzed yet," Tommy said into Buck's shoulder. "I want to hug my sad ex a little longer, if that's okay."

"More than okay," Buck replied, closing his eyes and pulling Tommy closer.

[lususnatura]

similarly, being with harley had sort of restored some of the beliefs that blamore used to have about humanity rather than the ones he'd adopted immediately after transforming; and that was that maybe not everyone was incapable of being helped if someone as multifaceted as her existed. black-and-white thinking was what had led it to want to spread the 'seeds' that had completely uprooted its own life to other people, considering that most of them wouldn't end up surviving the transformation for an extended period of time. or sometimes they didn't even survive it initially.

the individual person's stress response seemed to have a great effect on whether they survived it or not, but in any case, blamore's goals for the future now felt more... muddled. did he actually want to rid gotham of the people who were so bad that they couldn't be helped still? yes, but it was unclear as to what kind of behavior applied to those parameters for blamore, because it was still kind of everyone but a select few people. thinking about those deeper subjects in depth was something it was going to save for later regardless of what it thought at that time though. harley looked absolutely beautiful both above it and below it, in blamore's opinion.

but there was just something about the way he could drag his nails oh-so-carefully down her skin this way while atop her that made it more appealing to him at the time. blamore hummed at her playful whisper, as if it was thinking it over before saying, ❝ hmm, that's a tempting proposal, but you've never given me the chance to taste you beyond just a few licks. and i'll be honest, giving oral is one of my favorite things to do with a partner. ❞ in comparison, receiving oral for blamore — or whatever harley might have wanted to do — wasn't as enjoyable unless there was a possibility of mutual orgasm. though it still felt nice, of course.

it just really wanted to please her above all else. the feeling of her fingers spreading over its shoulder made it subconsciously become even more attuned to what harley was doing, for that didn't seem like the kind of action that was done just to be sexy (not to say that those kinds of actions were bad at all). and to blamore's satisfaction, it seemed like he might be right about that as harley rolled her hips against him, a soft moan leaving it as she nipped at his bottom lip. the action made him part its lips in shock and they remained that way whilst the creature tried to figure out what harley was doing when she lowered herself to its chest. that was when blamore's partner opened up his cardigan, taking in one of the basil leaves on his chest into her mouth.

that motion alone immediately got it semi-hard as it could feel a flurry of sensation surge from the leaf through him, almost like an erogenous zone. blamore felt like he was out of breath from the contact and could feel his face heat up as splotches of pink did indeed show through his face on his cheeks. panting, it was astounded that such a little action could already cause it to sweat, but there was just seemingly something about its plants that made them ultra-sensitive to stimulation. perhaps because they needed to be able to sense any and all threats to defend themselves. blamore felt like its brain had reverted somewhat to being quote unquote 'animalistic' as it wasn't a secret that it wanted harley on top of him, but he also wanted to eat her out.

i guess there was only one way of doing that. ❝ ooh... o-okay, jesus christ. that felt really good. but if i ask you to get on top of me again, you better not make fun of me for being indecisive, alright? please do that. but if you're okay with it, i want you to take everything off on your bottom half first and for you to sit on my face. ❞ yeah, harley might've caused him to give in quite quickly into changing his mind, but hey... she was being really attractive at the moment so in his mind: could anyone really blame it?

"That is kinda true.. I mean look at our news. One minute its a mass murder tha' next puppies and rainbows causee... we can't remain thinking tha' city isn't that great," she laughed.

Despite their differences it still was unique that they could spend moments trying to help the other see their potential. Musing over the idea of truffles and how they are cultivated seemed interesting, but Balmore had a knack for plants. She was sure he could figure it out and make his money. The question was would it take just as much money to recreate the conditions? That Harley wasn't sure of but she had confidence that almost anything could be done.

It was only a matter of time before Pride got brought up again and Harley couldn't help but flush, especially when Balmore mentioned it may have been a wet dream. It was evident he didn't say this to make her feel odd as he quickly mentioned he had those ideas as well. She hoped he had for her own sake, but in the moment the dream felt so real. Before long all that had been daydream seemed a reality. She might not have had a paintbrush or groomed him to a god like quality, but his voice brought her to feel weak.

Azure eyes loomed looking up from Balmore's chest curious to feel his fingers rake through her hair as if telling her not to stop. Slinking down onto her stomach she began to crawl atop him once more. Using both her hands she nudged Balmore to move sideways so he was fully on the bed before doing as he asked. Each kiss was lingering and soft building to more. In the intensity of it all Harley found herself shivering for wanting Balmore as she did.

[reignpage]

Things That Bind Us

Summary: in which student mage!choso encounters a spell that binds one’s body to an object of their choosing and he can't resist trying it out on an unsuspecting you… with a magically conjured sex doll?! Warnings: porn with little plot, 18+, mdni, fantasy au, fem!reader, a little hogwarts-esque, non-con/dub-con but it's really more cnc, sex toy usage, tit slapping, cunnilingus, quick pússy job, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, spitting, pússy slapping, creampie, brief ass play/rimming, díck piercing, squirting, overstimulation, portrayal of a possibly unhealthy fwb scenario, reader seems abusive but I swear she's not TT, she just needs to reign Choso in, not proofread Word Count: 3.3k

It’s stupid really.

Choso wasn’t even looking for a way to get back at you for leaving him high and dry after you rode his face to three orgasms. In fact, he was searching the archives for some textbooks he could use for the five thousand word essay he has due tomorrow, though it seems like it’ll have to wait now that he’s found something much more interesting and helpful. 

Throwing the last ingredient into his portable cauldron, he watches red fumes puff in the air, signalling that he’s ready to get the other half of his plan in motion. 

Hidden in his dorm room, door locked and walls reinforced with a shield spell, he climbs into bed and douses the potion all over a temporary conjurement. If anyone found out what he had done and is going to do, he’d both be the laughing stock of the academy and the one guys would turn to for help with their own deviant desires. But no one will know…except, of course, for you. 

What is the temporary conjurement?

Why, it’s a soft, almost life-like recreation of the female body. He’s sculpted it in his mind to look just like you, at least the you he remembered as well as he could given that he was a little preoccupied with gathering the ingredients necessary for his potion. Long limbed, smooth-skinned, bearing your complexion, and completely bare, it can do nothing as the wayward student douses the thing with the gloopy concoction, massaging it in thoroughly and leaving the body shiny and slick. 

Smelling of lavender and perversion, he doesn’t miss a single inch of skin with the potion, oiling the body up to the point where it glistens temptingly. Then, just as naked as his conjuring, Choso mutters a binding spell none had uttered in centuries and will not for longer. 

Nothing happens. 

He frowns, the black mark spanning cheek to cheek over his nose twitches with the movement. Did he say it wrong? Were the frog eyes he used expired? Or maybe he forgot to boil the snail mucus for a minute longer than usually recommended? 

What a shame. He was so looking forward to getting some payback — too often is it the case that he’s the one chasing after you, flushing an embarrassing red in the face when you’ve embarrassed him by pointing out that he’s drooling or that he already came by humping the bed from just your mere scent. Oh, what Choso wouldn’t give to render you just as flustered and dizzy as you leave him. 

You two have an agreement — nothing is too weird or sick. You love it when he touches you as you sleep and his cock drips like a leaky faucet when he pretends he doesn’t want you to suck his dick at the back of the pegasus stables. An odd pair in everyone’s eyes, his friends remain surprised that you two have stayed together as partners in lewd crime for so long. There are many times you two have broken things off, promising to do better, to be better, but those breaks never last very long before he’s bending you over backwards in the toilets. 

Sighing, he curses out the stupid spell book. No wonder it was dusty and hidden away in the library; who’d use a book full of faulty spells and empty vows?

Just about to wave the thing away, something catches his eye: a slight rise and fall of the chest. 

Wait…

No way…

It worked!

Your body is actually connected to the one he has in his bed. And, judging by the rhythmic breaths you’re taking, you must be asleep. That means you’re in your room too and won’t be caught in a compromising position because of him. Choso pretends he isn’t disappointed. 

Carefully, he planks over you and inhales at your neck. His eyes shut tight. Even with the distance, even when this isn’t your real body, he can still smell you and it sends blood rushing straight to his cock. He begins mouthing at the skin, sucking marks and smiling when your breathing quickens, just a little. 

Nipples flat, his fingers tweak at them, wanting to see them pebbled under his touch. You wear shirts to bed and he wonders if you can feel the flicking through the material or under — he hopes it’s the former since you like the friction. Either way, whatever he’s doing is having an effect on you: your heart is beating faster, breath irregular, skin warmer, back arching ever so slightly, and your nipples poke his palm. 

His memory was right. The breasts he cups weigh the same and feel practically the same. How often had he cradled your body like this for him to know the sizing of your tits perfectly? 

Choso’s mouth waters. Unable to help himself, he suckles a nipple into his mouth, tongue rolling the bud around. The potion is surprisingly tasteless though it is oily. That doesn’t put him off at all, however. Though you’re asleep, you still feel him, almost like a sixth sense. That’s sweet. He can tell you’re still asleep; you’re only ever this docile when in the land of slumber. Well, he won’t complain. Instead of shaking you awake, he trails a hand down your torso, tickling your belly button before it curves downwards to your pussy. 

You’re not very wet yet. 

Undeterred, he pets your cunt to waken that part of your body before your mind does. He loves the warmth and the plumpness of your pussy lips. Truly, he could spend eternity making out with it if only you’d let him. 

Your juices are leaking now and he spreads it around, smearing your skin with your wetness. The potion eases the tight circles he rubs against your clit, still hidden under its hood. Mouth full, Choso grunts. “Come on, baby. Come out for me. That’s it.”

Jostling, he watches your body come to life. You’re waking up. He wonders how you’ll react to the feeling of your tit being sucked and your clit being rubbed. Would you scream? Would you frantically search your textbooks for an explanation to the sensations you’re feeling? Or…would you indulge in the pleasure for a little longer than you should?

How long will it take you to figure out that he’s up to no good? What punishment will you give him?

He gasps. 

Without realising it, he had been grinding down onto your body double’s thigh. His cock is dribbling pre cum onto the skin. Can you feel that too? Can you feel the throbbing of his dick against your leg? Can you count the veins? Feel the length? Does it seem familiar?

Choso shoves two fingers into your pussy, burying them right up to the knuckles and getting his silver rings coated in your juices; he loves when the smell of you lingers and he can sniff the memory in class. Sometimes, he even absentmindedly takes a ring into his mouth and plays with the remaining taste of you whilst he studies.

It’s not really your body, he reminds himself. It’s not your pussy but, in the haze of pleasure and shame in knowing he’s doing something wrong, he can’t seem to care. The difference is marginal. You’re tighter but the heat is all the same, so are the pleats he’s rubbing. That gummy spot that has your toes curling is at the same place too. 

The body can only lie limp, the dusty spell book he found was clear on that — your arms won’t be wrapping around his back, won’t be clawing red lines down his spine that get his cock rising to full mast in the hallways when his shirt grazes them, and your legs won’t lock around his hips the way you usually do when you want him to cum inside and not on your stomach or back. 

Still, there’s something crazily hot about that. You can’t fight him off either. Can’t argue with him or boss him about. He gets to decide what position he wants you to be in, to control the pace and says when this ends. Surely he’ll pay for this later but he just can’t bring himself to think about the consequences, not when you’re tightening around his fingers and the tangy scent of your pussy is reaching him. 

“I bet you’re so confused right now,” he mumbles. “You might even be scared. Don’t be. I’ve got you. Always.”

SLAP!

SLAP!

He’s smacked each of your tits just to watch it bounce; you usually hate it when he does that. By now, he’d be sporting a bump on his head as you push him over to ride him until he’s overstimulated and begging for mercy. But you can’t do anything. And that fact is going to make him cum on your thigh. 

Shaking his head, he hurriedly grips the base of his cock. He can’t cum. Not yet. And not here. He didn’t go through the trouble of climbing up the whispering willow tree for the tallest branch in front of, what felt like, the entire student body, to not feel your pussy clench around his dick. 

First things first, though…

With haste, he scrambles down the bed to dive between your legs. Like a dog, he laps up your juices. You taste sweet, forever so sweet. It’s why he doesn’t complain when you teleport into his room at random times of the day and beckon him over without even speaking to him. It’s why he doesn’t mind when you leave his cock untouched; he can cum just fine with the taste of you lingering on his face, lips, and tongue. 

Using the tip of the long appendage, he plays with your clit, coaxing it out of the hood so he can suck hard at it. More cream drools onto his tongue. His eyes roll to the back of his head. Fingers digging deep into the fat of your thighs and threatening to bruise, he holds you in place and licks and sucks and licks again. 

“Hmm, you’re such a good girl when you’re getting what you want…come on then, you pretty little devil, take what you need. Bet you’re riding the air on your bed right now -hah- I wish I could see how pitiful you look.”

His fingers return inside, feeling the quivering of your pussy around the calloused digits. You’re close. He doesn’t need to hear you scream it out. He can simply tell from the way your clit is jutting into his mouth. A disappointment blooms in his chest — he so badly wishes he could hear you whine and whimper. The only consolation he has is that you’re not squirming out of his hold; you’re prey to his monstrous thirst.

SLUUUUUURPPP!

He’s shameless in the sounds he’s pulling out of your pussy. In fact, he’s fuelled by the squelching of your greedy cunt. It’s overwhelming him. You’re overwhelminghim. All of his senses are filled with you, dragging him down into the depths of pleasurable mania. 

“Tastes so -hah- good. I love your pussy so much. She’s so nice to me, not like you. No, you’re so -fuck, give me more, baby- so mean.”

Mischievously, his other hands treads further down. A thumb skims the rim of your asshole. You hate it when he does that too. Well, you can't do anything about it. Slowly, he pushes in the thick digit, laughing to himself when he feels the tight hole tense around it. Oh, you're definitely biting down on your fist right now. You're thinking Choso Kamo is a dead man walking, or rather, a dead man wanking. If he had longer, if you aren't such a clever student who can solve a puzzle within seconds, then he'd shove his tongue in there too.

Another day perhaps.

Hips rutting against the mattress, he feels like he can follow you to the edge just like this but this —the depravity, the power, the control— will likely never happen again and so he must make the most of it. When your orgasm erupts all over his face, soaking his cheeks and sheets, he desperately licks up as much as he can before he lays a kiss on your pulsing clit. 

“Feel good? I wish I could see your face. You always look so pretty when you cum. It’s okay though. You did such a good job. Well done.”

Choso positions himself between your legs. You’ve cum twice now but he hasn’t yet. Now, it’s his turn. Pushing the thighs back and feeling resistance, he slides his cock through your soaked slit, catching your pulsing clit. “I know you don’t like it when I -hah, you’re so -heh- wet- when I push your legs like this ‘cause you think it makes your tummy look silly but -ah fuck- b-but I love it. I love spreading you nice and wide for me like this. So, bear with me, ‘kay? Don’t get mad. I’ll do your homework for another week, I promise.”

You can’t hear him, he knows that. Yet, somehow, whispering comforting words to you brings him some peace of mind. He doesn’t want you to feel scared or panic. Ever. But you deserve to feel even just a little bit of what you make him feel on a regular basis. A balance must be struck somewhere and somehow. You’ll understand…or not. Either way, he doesn’t care anymore.

Slowly, he enters you. The stretch is as it always is: slow, maddeningly tight, and perfect. You’re wrapping around his length with expert skill. Maybe now you’ve caught on. Maybe now you know exactly what’s happening. There’s no way you don’t know it’s his cock that’s filling you up. Only he can push all this cream out of you. Only he can reach your deepest parts, can stimulate your g-spot and grind against your clit as he bottoms out. 

He’s sure you can feel the piercings on his frenulum. You once said it’s your favourite part of him. Something about the coldness at first and then the hardness whilst it rubs at your walls. 

If the feel of his cock stretching you to your limits doesn’t clue you on, then his piercings will. Now, you must be absolutely out of your mind with both bliss and anger. The very best combination when it comes to you.

“Oh, Merlin, you’re so tight. Fuck, I swear you do it on purpose.” Already his hips are stuttering, body and mind engulfed with the scent, feel and scalding burn of your doughy pussy. Everything about you is perfect, even the memory of you, which has manifested into a mindless sex doll and pales in comparison, is perfect. “You always m-make me want to cum so quickly. Not fair.”

Thrusting with a furious pace, Choso curses and flicks his wrist. A vibrator manifests in his hand. It’s your turn to be overstimulated, to cum again and again, and beg for mercy. He won’t hear you. Can’t. And a good thing, too; If he could, he’d give in. He always does. He’s pathetic. You make him pathetic. 

Cruelly, he presses the toy down onto your clit. 

“Fuck! T-too t-tight. Ah shit.” The immediate clenching of your pussy almost made him cum. Needing to ground himself, he holds onto a bouncing breast, still pummelling his cock inside you. It feels good for him too. The vibrations rattle your bones, sending it straight to him. Choso usually hates it when you use a vibe on him but he doesn’t right now. How could he when it’s making his abs flex and his vision blurry? 

At least now you’re not here to mock him for the drool trailing down his chin. He gathers it up and spits it down on your clit, landing with an obscene SPLAT! before he mixes it in with your frothing juices using the toy. 

The bed is banging against the wall. Thankfully he’s mastered that sound shielding spell; being a third year without having done that would make you a runt of the pack. No one will hear the salacious squelching of your pussy, his filthy moans and whimpers, or the foul slapping of skin against fake skin. 

You tighten impossibly around him as you cum again. He fucks you through it. No one can resist the devious power of a vibrator, not even you. “Bet you’re r-regretting all the times you’ve tortured me with this, h-huh? It’s not nice being on the receiving end, is it? Is it?”

When he doesn’t receive an answer, he pouts and smacks your clit. 

“It’s rude to ignore someone.” 

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! 

Each ruthless slap has your pussy pulsing hard, hugging his cock like it could offer reprieve. It only angers him more. His thrusting goes deeper and harder, wanting to punish you to the point of tears. 

Then, he laughs. “Hah, I forgot. You can’t -ngh!- reply. Sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to be so -hah hah fuck- mean to your pretty pussy. Let me a-apologise.”

There is no apology. Not really. He’s ramming into your cunt at an unrelenting pace, balls smacking against your ass. At least now he’s let go of your legs, has stopped slapping your clit, and discarded the vibrator. That’s as kind as he can manage to be at this present moment. He’s sure he’ll pay for that too. 

Nearing his end, delirious and manic, he suckles at your tits once more. He could spend eternity worshipping them too. Something about how soft and warm they are, and when he lays between them, it’s like they’re welcoming him home. Choso licks up the sweat under your breasts. It’s something he can’t do with you even though he’s been wanting to for years. Now, he can live out his deepest fantasies, can fuck you how he’s how wanted to for a long time. 

You’re probably furious despite the euphoria channelling through your veins. Mentally, you must be cursing him out, planning all the hexes you’ll attach to him. Whatever you have planned for him, he’ll gladly take it. No matter how bad, how humiliating and stupid the punishments he receives are, he takes them with a smile — the fact that you spent time thinking about him at all makes him so happy. 

Oh, he can’t wait to see you. 

“H-hurry up and find me already! I miss you -sooooo fucking t-tight- miss you so so much.”

There’s no longer any rhyme or reason to his thrusting. He’s just chasing his high, fuelled by images of you. And when he cums, he swears he sees you appear in his room with a face one can only describe as livid. 

“Shit shit shit shit!” Choso’s orgasm makes him whine. It’s too much, too strong and too good. He slumps over your body, drooling all over himself and muttering confessions of adoration into your skin. Hot cum floods around his cock, pooling out. It’ll be a mess to clean up but all he can think about is how you’ll feel it. 

With a poof, the conjurement disappears. He’s left humping his bed, riding out the remnants of his orgasm. Totally worth it. 

“Had your fun, Kamo?”

He stills. 

You’re not a figment of his imagination. You really are in his room. Dressed in just a shirt — his shirt — you stand there, hands on your hips, hair a mess, tears on your cheeks, and wetness glistening down your thighs. Much prettier and better in every way than the doll, the sight of you in his room again urges his hips on. He winces at the raw and painful pleasure bolting through his body but he can’t stop.

Weakly, he waves at you, too tired to even feel panicked. All his survivor’s instincts have fled at the sight of your wrath, apparently. 

“Don’t act cute. You’re so dead, you pervy asshole.” Jumping on the bed, you rain down punches on his back, tickling him more than anything. He can feel the soaked warmth of your pussy on his back and it’s reawakening his softening cock. “I’m gonna rip off your stupid dick piercing, mark my words. I’ll tear you a new pair of balls, Choso.”

Pouting, he looks back and meets your eye. Your cunt pulses. “Is that before or after you ride me?”

Choso doesn’t leave the room until the next day. He doesn’t answer when his friends ask him about his limp, the frightening hickeys on his neck, and the self-satisfied grin on his face, which, of course, falls when he receives detention for not having a five thousand word essay to hand in.

He has no regrats.

[chowadoe]

sonadow fankid blast 💥 meet Breaker! his twin is up next 🕺

primarily takes after Sonic, taking over the day shift of watching Green Hills and the 'hero' mantle. beloved face. helps grandmas across the street. avid errand runner. has helpful big brother/camp counselor vibes!

🌖 At first I named him Breaker as a shorthand for 'daybreak' (his twin being named Dusk) and thought it was stupid (bc Sonic would name his kid something stupid) but the more i thought about it.. the more it worked.. windbreaker…. circuit breaker…a breaker being a heavy sea wave connecting to Sonic's fear of water..breaks/brakes… mm wordplay

very aloof! enjoys life. loves hiking. he loves anything with a good view. prefers to take it a day at a time, if given the choice. has a curiosity and interest in the powers and skills of others

he's incredibly strong w/ powers including electricity + Chaos Control/time-space manipulation (and still wearing limiters)

he is extremely tactical with when and how he uses Chaos Control. Breaker wouldn't use his Chaos Control on new opponents, choosing to rely on speed and fistpower. If he did, he'd make it seem that he was just extremely fast getting places, using the shadows of his opponent and surrounding environment to slip between places

ever since he was a little, Breaker’s always come out on top. he’s always looked up to heroes, naturally- after all both their fathers were. and he’s settled into the role quite nicely, one of Green Hills’ very own, and just as beloved. all the townsfolk know him, all the women fawn over him, a true bonafide role model. But even his twin brother Dusk wonders/isn't sure if thats really what he wants or if its simply a role he’s acclimated to.

Breaker has a bit of an iceberg to his character. Most people see the very top layer, what they see day-to-day of the young aloof Mobian heralded as "Sonic and Shadow's son". there's something else that goes on beneath..

his powers essentially distort him from living the same wavelength as others. Like that moment in Sonic Prime where Sonic is going so fast, time has essentially stopped for everyone else. Tapping into this power has led him to believe he is invincible in ways, but not entirely. he enjoys all the scuffs, he enjoys what life has to throw him, his friends, etc. It keeps him grounded. as a result, he has a curiosity when he finally gets to dance with danger one-on-one like the average Mobian. he appreciates any opportunity to throw himself into dangerous situations because he enjoys the thrill of possibly getting hurt, as the pain allows him to feel 'mortal'.

One of his core principals is that he doesn’t want people hurt. He wants people safe. But sometimes it's unsure if thats the case or if its because he wants other people out of his way so he can set the stage between just him and his opponent.. and thus, minimize the collateral damage/cleanup.

He is rather tactical outside of battle too and does especially well in social settings. he already has the chops for it, being charismatic from the getgo- but he knows how to set people/things/his environment up in ways that would allow him to get that final push for things to successfully go his way without anyone being aware he had pulled any strings at all. he is incredibly observant, and always picking up on the finer details. his penchant for people-watching both comes in clutch as a both hobby he truly enjoys in the present and something that could help him in future instances. the "kill two birds with one stone" type. maybe three, if the winds decide it that way.

Whether Breaker wants to admit it or not, he cares about his image. Although his swagger comes quite effortless, he cares how the townsfolk perceive him, not just for the sake of vanity or narcissism but because he understands that people need an idol- they need guidance. That's what his dad was, and that's what he's for. It's what the stars were here for-- people had to look up to somewhere (or someone) for answers. He understands that he is something like a guiding light, a north star- but if they choose to refuse him, it's no skin off his back bc that’s their choice. He doesn't interfere with the choices people decide to make for themselves.

Breaker is a weird paradox character. where he's direct and very upfront, he is also so incredibly indirect about stuff too. Bro's always contradicting himself which makes it very hard for anyone to really pinpoint just what he's thinking beyond what they might know from the "hero" image he shows off once they truly get to know him.

Being good is a choice for him. But it's a choice he doesn't think about and something he's trained himself to wholeheartedly believe is instinct, as he doesn't believe himself to be a bad guy (and he isn't!) But it's like making a lie real and true.

Breaker, like his brother, has his own brand of isolation. Because of his powers, he lives on a different wavelength to other people. Always looking things through a window. He can look close enough to pretend the glass isn't there, that he's with there with everyone else, but there still exists that separation. So he chases after whatever makes him feel 'alive' and in the moment with everyone else.

[msunitedstatesjames]

I've touched on this in a couple of other semi-related posts before, but I find it hilarious and I appreciate how much Johanna Hezenkoss thinks Emmrich is the protagonist of Veilguard. Like, this woman could not give less of a fuck about Rook. She almost always refers to Rook only by their relationship to Emmrich. She refers to Rook as "one of Volkarin's hangers-on," "that impudent whelp following [Emmrich] around," "Volkarin's companion," and as Emmrich's "paramour." None of these imply that she thinks Rook has much agency. Instead, she acts like Rook is just helplessly following Emmrich around like a puppy, helping him complete tasks (which I guess is partly true).

If Rook romances Emmrich, Hezenkoss assumes that Emmrich seduced Rook and not the other way around, even though Emmrich is noticeably older than Rook and has hardly left the Necropolis in years. She's seemingly amazed by it, and yet it never once crosses her mind that Rook might have initiated the relationship (which is actually the case).

She also refers to Emmrich as the one who destroyed her construct, which is technically true, but she ignores the major assistance he had from Rook, another companion, and most notably Manfred. He couldn't have pulled it off without their help, and had in fact given up, but Hezenkoss acts like Emmrich was her sole opponent in that battle.

I've said before that part of the reason for this is that Hezenkoss seems to think of herself as the main villain of the story, so Emmrich must be the main hero. Hezenkoss says that some of the other big bads of Dragon Age, the Venatori, were nothing more to her than slightly useful and genuinely annoying. She clearly thinks herself above an entire organization of some of the most powerful mages in the world. And she sees Emmrich as pretty close to her in terms of raw power, since she almost invited him to her Vengeance Party but ultimately decided he was too much of a danger to her plans. She also states that she tried to get him to join her in the past, which I don't think she would do for anyone she considered to be less than her equal. Emmrich is genuinely the only person in the game she shows any respect for. Though she mocks his age and finds him to be too sentimental, too moral, and too fearful, she shows signs of agreeing with him on some topics, and she obviously respects his abilities if nothing else. No one else in the game acknowledges his frankly ridiculous knowledge and skill level (except Solas in the end) as much as Hezenkoss does.

And really, Emmrich does have main character energy. Though he does have some age and mortality related fears, dude is overflowing with confidence. When you first meet him, looking for a Fade expert, he has absolutely no problem telling you he's the best possible person for the job. Though he apparently hasn't left the Necropolis in years, he's totally down to join the team and go anywhere you want him to go. If you romance him, he is initially surprised, but he quickly turns into the smoothest dude around, and throughout the game you can hear him comment on some of his many relationships through the years. He's well-dressed, well-spoken, charismatic, highly educated, unfailingly kind, extremely powerful, and he's done so well for himself that Harding mistakes the son of a butcher and a cook for a member of the Nevarran nobility. No wonder Hezenkoss thinks he's the protagonist. The real protagonist is just out here winging it on guts and good luck alone.

[timmydraker]

The Drake family has existed for a long time, originating from England and being proud doctors in the New World that was the America.

They were responsible for saving many of the soldiers in the war for their choice to be independent to be made true, even being responsible for training medics that saved Washington.

So naturally, with such an extensive (and possibly exaggerated) history filled with respectable and admirable people, they had rules to follow. The rules were meant to show respect for their heritage, for the way they helped push so much medical research and most importantly, reputation.

The Drake Family Rules had existed for over a hundred years. The original book made for young Drake’s and introduced family members was kept safe within a glass case in the centre of the Drake Mansion.

It started with 32 rules, though naturally more were added over time.

When Tim was born there was 122, and as he began to learn to read through the words of the much more modern looking book, his mother swapped it out six times as she added more books. As the one who originally had the Drake name, only she could, though Jack could make suggestions. By the time he was eight there was 173.

Tim had known these rules his whole life and sees them the same way the pervade civilian sees laws.

Maybe even more so.

Some of the rules were obvious and made a lot of sense, such as Rule 5: ‘A Drake should never dishonour his or her’s spouse in any manner’ or Rule 27: ‘A Drake does not gamble away his or hers own money’.

But then there were some out dated ones like Rule 15: ‘A Drake should never been seen wearing a broken pocket watch, for this shows a lack of care to the time of others’ and Rule 11: ‘A Drake should accept the cane from a teacher with grace and decorum’.

Or the more entitled ones like Rule 26: ‘A Drake does not do the washing, that is the maids duty’ and the worst one as far as Tim was concerned, Rule 5: ‘A Drake does not fornicate with anyone of varying skin tones or the common folk’.

Then the bazar one’s…

Rule 112: ‘A Drake should not be seen in public past 11 PM’.

Rule 78: ‘A Drake does not drink out of anything that is not made of glass’.

Rule 102: ‘A Drake must keep a coin inside his or hers shoe when leaving home’.

And Tim’s favourite, Rule 98: ‘A Drake must not die of sickness lest this affect the trust of the public’.

A lot were about health, like Rule 3: ‘A Drake must study the science of medicine no matter his or hers biology’ . Some were about dedication to making a healthy society while others were just about committing to the family business.

Tim didn’t mind these rules all that much and only really learnt them because it was expected of him. He didn’t think all of them were necessary, a fair few due to the time period, but it didn’t really hurt for him to learn them all and keep them up.

Tim still kept a coin inside his shoe after all, because while it was super weird, it didn’t hurt.

He was sure if Bruce knew about The Drake Family Rules and how well Tim follows them he would be furious at the evidence that Tim can do what he’s told, he just doesn’t want to.

[flwrkid14]

The Marriage Pact (But Make It Sabotage)

ahh tysm for 500 followers!!! i never thought so many people would actually like all my silly ideas! <3

Tim and Danny, somewhere in their early twenties, jokingly make a marriage pact: if they’re both single by the time they’re in their late twenties, they’ll just marry each other. It’s lighthearted, it’s casual—just two best friends making promises for a future they’re totally not worried about.

Except… it gets a little weird.

Danny gets set up on a blind date one Saturday. Tim, the supportive best friend he is, casually mentions there’s a case he could really use Danny’s help on. Nothing serious, of course—just something that totally can’t wait until Sunday. Danny, being the responsible friend he is, cancels the date.

Tim, meanwhile, gets roped into a coffee meetup with one of Steph’s friends. It’s not really a date, but it could turn into one. Or at least, it could’ve, if Danny hadn’t texted Tim about that new bakery he’s been dying to try. “We should go! Like, now. Before all the good pastries are gone.” Tim, naturally, reschedules the coffee meetup. After all, Danny takes priority, right?

It becomes a pattern.

Danny’s coworkers try to set him up with someone they think is his type. “Oh, sorry,” Danny says, “I already promised Tim I’d help him with his tech upgrades tonight.”

Tim gets invited to a fancy gala where he might meet someone. Danny shows up with two tickets to a concert Tim mentioned liking a month ago. “Come on, you deserve a break.”

Neither of them realizes what’s happening, at least not consciously. To them, it’s just normal. They’re best friends. Of course, they’re going to prioritize each other. Of course, they’d rather hang out together than with some random stranger. Of course, no one else really gets them the way they get each other.

Their friends, however, are losing their minds.

Steph is convinced Tim and Danny are already dating and just haven't told anyone yet. Tucker and Sam are taking bets on how long this can possibly last before one of them snaps. Cass is tempted to lock them in a room until they sort out their feelings.

The kicker? Tim and Danny both think the other one doesn’t feel the same. They’re sabotaging potential love interests out of sheer self-preservation because the idea of watching the other fall in love with someone else is unbearable. But they can’t say anything, because what if it ruins their friendship? What if the marriage pact is all they get?

So, they keep pretending it’s fine. Danny keeps canceling dates for “missions” that could definitely wait. Tim keeps skipping events to spend time with Danny.

The late twenties deadline creeps closer. Everyone else is waiting for the inevitable implosion. Tim and Danny, oblivious as ever, are just… biding their time.

[mariasont]

I know youre working on a fic right now but can you sometime make a fic where a new agent comes to work at the bau (the reader) and early seasons Spencer catches her interest, to which he's completely oblivious? Like just a cute little fluffy fic where two genius idiots can realise they like each other throughout their case together.

(also a lot of jokes from Morgan lol)

Reading Between the Lines - S.R

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x reader

warnings: reader just being in love with dr. reid

wc: 1.2k

The two of you were alone in the police station break room, which had become something of unofficial workspace for the team during the case. You'd been sitting there for a while, mostly pretending to read through a file while Spencer, across the table, actually read his — flipping through pages faster than should be humanly possible.

You'd been watching him out of the corner of your eye for the last ten minutes, trying (and failing) to keep your focus on your own. You couldn't help it. He was enthralling to watch. His long fingers moved smoothly over the paper, turning each page with that ridiculous speed-reading technique of his.

And when he tilted his head slightly, his eyes scanning the words so quickly it looked like he was barely reading at all, you were sure you'd never seen anyone more unfairly attractive in your entire life.

And you did mean unfairly in the purest sense. It was undeniably unfair — no, unnatural — for a man to possess such a perfect plethora of qualities, like Spencer Reid did.

You hated how obvious you were being. Every time Spencer glanced up at you, your face grew hot, and you had to fight the urge to duck your head like a nervous schoolgirl. It was absurd. You were a grown adult — a professional in the FBI, for gods' sake. You had no business mooning over someone this hard. But... it was Spencer. How could anyone not?

Eventually, you gave up trying to work and leaned forward on the table, resting your chin on your hand. "How do you do that?"

Spencer glanced up, blinking. "Do what?"

"Read that fast," you said, gesturing toward the file in his hands. "I mean, it's like you're just flipping through the pages for fun, but you're actually... reading them, right? You're not just pretending?"

Spencer tilted his head, his lips twitching into a smile. "No, I'm not pretending. I'm absorbing the information. It's called speed-reading."

You raised an eyebrow. "And you just... taught yourself how to do that?"

He nodded, setting the file down in front of him. "It's not as hard as it looks. Anyone can learn it with enough practice."

"Anyone?"

"Anyone," Spencer said, leaning back into his chair. "It's all about training your brain to recognize patterns in the text and absorb information in chunks rather than word by word. It's just a matter of rewiring how you process what you're reading."

You stared at him for a moment, then a grin spread across your face. "Teach me."

Spencer blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Teach you?"

"Yeah," you said, sitting up straighter. "If anyone can learn it, prove it. Teach me how to speed-read."

For a second, he just stared at you, like he wasn't sure if you were serious. But then his expression morphed into something that looked almost... excited. "Okay. I can teach you."

You tried not to look too pleased as he reached for a book sitting on the nearby counter and slid it across the table toward you. It was some dry academic text about linguistic patterns across extinct languages — typical Spencer reading material — but you figured it didn't really matter what the book was. You weren't here for the content.

"Alright," Spencer said, pulling his chair closer to yours so he could see what you were looking at. He leaned in, his shoulder brushing yours, and every single coherent thought you had ever had evaporated into thin air. You swallowed hard, staring at the page but unable to actually read anything. "The first thing you need to do is stop subvocalizing."

"Sub... what?" you asked, already lost.

"Subvocalizing," he repeated patiently. "It's when you say the words in your head as you're reading them. Most people do it without even realizing it, but it slows you down. If you can train yourself to read without subvocalizing, you'll process the text much faster."

You nodded slowly, though you weren't sure you entirely understood. "Okay. So... how do I stop?"

Spencer smiled. "It takes practice, but one way to start is by using your finger to guide your eyes. Like this."

He reached out and gently took your hand, guiding your index finger to the first line of the text.

Your brain short-circuited for a second. His hand was warm, touch light as he moved your finger along the page. Did he notice the way you tensed up? Did he feel how clammy your palm was? If he did, he didn’t mention it, his focus entirely on the page. Meanwhile, your focus was entirely on him.

"Try to keep your eyes moving with your finger," Spencer said. "Don't focus too much on each individual word — just let your brain take in the whole line."

Every time you inhaled, you caught the faintest hint of soap and coffee — clean, warm, him — and it was becoming impossible to think straight.

"Okay," you said softly, moving your finger along the line as he'd shown you. "Like this?"

"Exactly. Now, try to pick up the pace. Keep your eyes moving."

You tried, but your focus kept slipping — not because of the text, but because of the way Spencer was leaning so close, his shoulder almost brushing yours as he watched you. You could feel his breath, soft and even, against the side of your face, and you were suddenly very aware of the fact that this was probably the closest you'd ever been to him.

"Am I doing it right?"

"Mostly," Spencer said, his hair brushing his forehead as he leaned even closer to point at a section of the text. His long fingers hovered just above yours, and your heart stuttered at the proximity. "But try not to pause at punctuation. Just keep your eyes moving in one fluid motion."

"Okay," you said again, though honestly, you weren't sure how much you were actually absorbing. Your brain was too busy screaming Spencer Reid is touching me. Spencer Reid is this close to me.

For a few more minutes, Spencer guided you through the process, his hand occasionally brushing yours as he helped you adjust your pace. You couldn’t tell if you were actually improving or if you were just doing your best to survive the moment without completely embarrassing yourself.

"You're doing better already," he said. "It just takes time to get used to."

You smiled back at him, cheeks warm. "Thanks. You're a good teacher."

Spencer’s ears turned pink, and he glanced down, his fingers brushing idly at the edge of the book. "I don’t think I’ve ever been called that before. A good teacher, I mean."

You couldn't stop smiling.

"Maybe next time, you can teach me," he said suddenly.

You laughed. "I don’t think there’s anything I could teach you that you don’t already know, Spencer."

"I wouldn’t be so sure about that," Spencer said, his voice quieter now, almost teasing. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and for a second, his eyes met yours, before flicking back to the book.

Correction, you wouldn't be able to stop smiling for the next 3-5 business days.

Morgan was leaning against the hallway wall just outside the break room, holding his phone and scrolling casually, when you finally stepped out of the room.

You didn't see him at first — you were too busy floating on a cloud, practically glowing as you replayed the last few minutes with Spencer over and over in your mind. You were smiling so much your cheeks hurt, and you could still feel Spencer's hands on yours.

"Well, well, well," Morgan voice cut through your daydream, startling you so badly you almost tripped. You snapped your head toward him, your heart jumping to your throat. He was grinning like a cat who'd just caught a mouse. "What's got you all smiley? Pretty boy say something sweet, or are you just thinking about those magic hands of his?"

You felt your face burst into flames. "What? No! It's not —"

Morgan held up a hand, shaking his head as he chuckled. "Save it, girl. I know the look of a lovesick rookie when I see one. Trust me — you've got it bad."

You sputtered, desperately trying to come up with a convincing rebuttal, but Morgan was already walking away. "Better make your move before he speed-reads right past you!"

You groaned, burying your burning face in your hands as Morgan’s laughter faded down the hall. Lovesick rookie? Was it really that obvious?

Yes. Yes, it was.

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[reiderwriter]

Isn't She Pretty, Daddy?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Teacher f!Reader

Summary: You're a little bit worried about one of your brightest students recently, so you call her Dad to come in for a meeting. Her absolutely adorable - and single - Dad.

Warnings: the birds and the bees as explained by a kindergardener. Some angst about being a single parent.

A/N: Here's another entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Kid Fic Challenge! Dad Spencer has my heart, and I've been in a really fluff forward mood this weekend, evidently! I think I have one more Kid Fic left to go before the end of the challenge, but we'll see what the will of the fanfiction gods is...

Masterlist

If you were to be asked what the hardest part of being a teacher was, you would, without question or even a second to think, have an answer. Parents. The worst part of teaching is talking to parents. 

Little kids were easy to talk to. They asked questions if they didn't understand things clearly, and they didn't typically say things they didn't mean. Adults were the opposite, and it just so happened that all of your kids' parents were adults. 

Including your most recent problem  child. 

You were used to the kids in your class having some behavior issues - for one, they were kids, it was to be expected that their little bodies couldn't quite handle all of the emotions they were feeling at once. But you were doubly struck by your school area being close to Quantico, meaning half the kids in your care had families with law enforcement backgrounds. 

Absent parents plus growing bodies plus normal kid stress equalled attachment issues, and your problem child Harper Reid was one of your more worrying cases. 

You really hoped everything was okay in the Reid household, so you'd called the little girls parents. She was lovely - honest to god - one of the sweetest little kids you'd ever met. 

Every day she came to school with some older kids and their mom, carpooling on the way in, so you had yet to meet her parents, but you thought that anyone who could produce something that sweet and cute and brilliant couldn't possibly be a bad person. 

You didn't know what to expect, so when her little pigtails peaked around the corner and she came running in, you were momentarily filled with anxiety. 

“MOMMY!” The little girl yelled, launching herself into your arms as soon as she spotted you behind your desk. 

“Hi, Harper! Hi, you must be, Mr. Reid-”

“Doctor, actually, um, but that doesn't really matter. I'm so sorry about this, Harper doesn't usually tackle people.” 

The 3ft tall ball of energy had managed to crawl into your lap and wrap her arms around your neck, so you had to pick her up when you stood to greet her dad. 

“Will your wife be joining us for the meeting today?” You asked, already used to Harper's hugs and general closeness. 

“Oh, no. No, she's not coming. She, uh, doesn't exist. Single father.” 

“Oh my god, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to assume, it's just not on my files-” 

“It's okay, it's a …bit complicated.” 

You took your seat at the desk and gestured to the man to do the same. Finally, looking at him for the first time now that some of your anxiety had died down, you couldn't help but think that Doctor Reid was incredibly attractive. It wasn't one part of his face that stuck out to you as being particularly pretty, just the entire ensemble of it together that took your breath away. Either that of Harper was gripping you so tight she was restricting your ability to breathe, and considering a five year old is not a boa constrictor, this was all dad's fault. 

“So, you said on the phone Harper's been having some problems at school?” 

You snapped your attention back to the issue at hand, searching for the relevant files and pictures you wanted to show the man. Harper turned herself around in your lap and looped her arms around your arm, pulling it in close to use as a pillow. 

“Isn't Miss Y/N so pretty, Daddy?” You froze and flushed in an instant, suddenly so aware of the man's eyes on you. You weren't sure if you were thankful or even more embarrassed that Harper's dad seemed to be even more flushed than you. 

“Daddy? Isn't she pretty?” Harper insisted, and you realized that you both weren't going to get out of this without him answering. 

“Yes, angel. Miss Y/N is very pretty.” The little girl smiled in triumph and nuzzled into your arm even more, happily curled up into your lap like a cat. 

“Hey, Harper. We got a new puzzle delivered yesterday. It's got My Melody and Cinnamaroll on it. They're your favorites, right?” 

The little girl nodded in glee, eyes shining as she hung on your every word. 

“How about you go over to the play area and get it started, and then me and your daddy will come over and help you finish it?” 

In a flash, she'd hopped up out of your lap and wriggled away, shouting a quick “You promised, right?” behind her as she went. 

“I'm so sorry about that, I don't know what's gotten into her, she's usually very shy and-”

“Doctor Reid, it's fine. That's just why I called you in today. Teachers and parents are a team, right, we work together to make sure the kids grow up well, you don't need to apologize to me for that.” 

The man seemed to take a deep breath and nod, to regain his wits about him for a second. 

“Is she… this attached in her regular classes?” 

“Well honestly, she was a bit like that at the beginning of the semester, but she grew out of it after a while. In the last week or so, she fell back into it, and now she's calling me ‘Mommy,’ too. I was wondering if anything happened recently at home that could've led her in this direction, or…”

The man looked a little bashful, but there was a twinge of sadness in his expression that you recognised all too well. 

“Harper, uh, doesn't have a Mom. I adopted her, and it's a long story, but... She's been asking me to get her one recently, because she doesn't really understand all that well? I'm sorry, I didn't know she'd do something like this. I should've done a better job at home-” 

“Doctor Reid, raising a child is hard. It's so hard that humans usually do it in communities, or at least in couples. You're doing it alone, and Harper is already one of the smartest and most empathetic little girls I know. You're doing your job as Dad just fine.” 

The man smiled at you and looked down, quickly wiping away a tear as you gave him a moment of privacy. 

“So. If nothing at home set Harper off, we should probably go and ask her why she's calling me mommy, right?” 

You stood, and he stood with you, leaving his satchel next to his chair and unbuttoning his jacket. 

“Great. Sure, let's go see.”

Walking to the back of the room, you both smiled quietly, looking at the small girl. The 100 piece puzzle you'd guided her to was neatly arranged on the desk, pieces split into edges and centre pieces as she slowly looked at each one with a quietly focused face. Each time she found the piece she was looking for, her smile was bright as she connected it to the small part she was working on. 

“Mommy! Daddy! I can't find the melody's face, can you help me?” 

“Sure, Harper, we'll help you.” You moved to sit beside her at the tiny desks, giggling when the older Reid on Harper's other side struggled to fit himself in the toddler sized chairs. 

Harper assigned you roles, and you all started quietly doing your jobs, waiting for Harper to focus again so you could ask her questions without agitating her. 

“Harper, can you tell your Daddy why you call me Mommy?” 

“Sure! You're Mommy because I want you to marry with Daddy.” 

If you weren't already still flushed from her earlier comments, you certainly were lightheaded with embarrassment now. 

“Harper, that's not how it works-” 

“Yes, it is, Daddy! Henry said so. He said his mommy and daddy were sad one day, but then they were together again and they had a big party called a wedding and now they're happy, and that's why we have Michael.” You didn't quite follow from all the names and the story events, but it was evident that Reid did, so you waited quietly for his explanation. 

“My friend. Her son was at her wedding a few years back. They have another son who is a couple years older than Harper, they come to school together?” 

Your mouth made a small ‘o’ as you slowly filled in the blanks. 

“Harper, you want daddy to have a wedding so he isn't sad anymore?” 

The little girl gave a big nod and a smile, like she was so happy that she was finally being understood. 

“Miss Y/N should marry daddy because he thinks she's pretty. Henry said that was important for a wedding, your mommy has to look beautiful.” You made eye contact with Doctor Reid awkwardly as she spoke, both of you looking away for fear of seeing the embarrassment on each others faces. 

“And Miss Y/N wants a baby. So I will be Miss Y/N's baby, so everyone can be happy!” Harper's kid logic was a little hard to find fault with, but you still had to push back a little. 

“Harper, why do you think I want a baby?” 

“Angie asked you, and you said," the girl pouted, almost frustrated woth habing to answer all these silly questions.

"She asked you why you don't have a baby, and you said that you can only have a baby if you're married and that you wanted to have a baby when you were married. So marry my dad, and I'll be your baby!” 

Harper's smile was so happy and content that you really didn't want to spoil her dream just yet. You continued putting the puzzle together for a few minutes in silence, the full picture nearly being complete now. Harper seemed to fidget a little in her seat next to you, pushing closer and closer to you before tugging on your sleeve. 

You leaned down and she whispered in your ear - though you didn't doubt that her dad heard every word. 

“If you really want, I'm sure we can get another baby like Henry got Michael. I'll ask my dad, but I think it's allowed.” 

The poor man on the other side of the desk had to cover his face with his hands to stop the blush from showing, devolving to just straight up resting his head on the desk when his daughter kept going. 

“A boy is okay, but my dad doesn't really know about boy stuff. Uncle Derek says that my daddy is just a pretty boy with a book brain. We should get another girl, so daddy can be not worry.” 

The more you listened to Harper's adorable family plan, the more you just wanted to squeeze her tight and say yes and give her everything she wanted. 

“Miss Y/N, once again, I'm so sorry for everything, I'll talk with Harper at home about this.” 

“It's okay, I actually find it all very sweet,” you laughed a little and smiled back at him. 

“No, I'm sure your boyfriend would be so uncomfortable if he knew that she was trying to marry you off-” 

“Doctor Reid, are you trying to ask me if I'm single?” 

The small grin that quirked his lips up was nothing if not unfair. He really was a very pretty boy. 

“It was that obvious?��� 

“Yep.” You made sure the ‘p’ popped a lot as you both shared a small laugh. Harper looked up between you and smiled, too. 

“So, can you get married now? Henry said you can do it really quickly, like in Grandpa Rossi's garden, and then you can go and do the secret part at home while Auntie Penny looks after me.” 

“Secret part?” 

“To make the other baby, silly!” 

[gurugirl]

[2] It's Good to Be King | mean king!harry

MAIN MASTERLIST

Series Summary: Harry, a handsome, but ill-mannered new king, bound by tradition, must select a queen, and against all expectations, he chooses Y/n, a street beggar. Now, Y/n finds herself caught between the gilded cage of royalty and the cold, harsh simplicity of her past, navigating a court shocked by her presence and a king who revels in the scandal of it all.

Note: Harry is mean/uncouth in this, though things do get better. He doesn't treat anyone around him with much respect at all. Expect to not like him much at first. Also, this is set in the 1800s England, and while not completely historically accurate, I did my best to keep it as accurate as possible.

Ch. 2 Word Count: 8,759

Ch. 2 Warning: genitalia rubbing (with some dirty talk), discrimination, manipulation and coercion, corruption kink, humiliation, jealousy

It's Good to Be King Masterlist

. .

Y/n had insisted that Phoebe leave the library to get some rest. It was the middle of the night and while her new friend (she refused to think of anyone as being her assistant because that was– well, it was preposterous) told her she wasn't tired, she could tell that the girl was.

"I'll be another hour and then off to bed myself. There's no reason for you to suffer."

"Madam, I'm not allowed to leave you alone to wander the castle. I could get into trouble."

Y/n placed the brand-new book down onto the table that she had in her hand. It was a book that contained drawings of anatomy (amongst other things) by a fellow named Charles Darwin. She imagined it might come in handy to help her understand the mechanics or even just the names of some of their— bits. She had no idea if the book was what she really needed or not but it looked promising.

"But you're so tired. Why can't he just keep watch?" She pointed at the guard who stood in the library's entryway.

Phoebe cleared her throat and looked toward the man. "Are you allowed to be alone with Her Majesty?"

Y/n let out a squawk at the way she was addressed. "Good heavens! Her Majesty? Please, madam is enough. Y/n would be even better."

"My apologies. If it suits you, I will address you as you please." She turned back toward the man. "Can you, George?"

"Yes. If she's only another hour, I'll see to it that she makes it to her room well."

"Thank you, sir," Phoebe said politely before looking toward Y/n. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Please go on. I'll make haste and be off soon."

The library was gorgeous. It was almost magical. She rarely got her hands on any new books and often was left to read the same two she had in her possession over and over again. But the castle had the most decadent library in the world, she imagined.

Her issue was, though, that most of the books had nothing to do with intimacy or engaging in intercourse whatsoever, which she was in desperate need of. She could think of no other way to help prepare herself for the eventual poking she'd have to endure. The book on anatomy could be educational, though she was looking for something a little more risqué. But then she came across a weathered paper book with the sewn binding edges coming undone at the tops. The name Fanny alone harkened images of feeding the pussycat–if you will.

Fanny Hill.

She glanced at the guard on watch to ensure he hadn't seen the book she'd pulled from the case and her face heated as she opened up the first page. Her eyes widened at the full name of the book: Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure. Closing it quickly she tucked it under the new one and smiled.

It was exactly what she'd been searching for.

"Think I'm ready to go to my room now."

At night the castle was well-lit inside. She wondered how much fuel must have been used (and the cost!) to keep the large spaces bright the way they were. Oil lamps and burning fireplaces guided their path until she was at her doorway.

She didn't know the protocol for greeting or dismissing people but she bowed her head slightly and thanked the man before entering her room, the tall wooden door closing behind her with a heavy clank.

Her fire was freshly stoked and there was more fruit in a bowl on a side table with a glass pitcher of – water? She placed the books down on the table and lifted the pitcher to her nose to sniff. There was no scent. Had she been given fresh water to drink?

She wasted no time in pouring a bit into the heavy baluster glass on the tray next to the water. Lifting the rim to her mouth she took the smallest sip. Water! Pouring more into the cup she guzzled half the glass in one go.

Smiling to herself she placed the heavy glassware down and picked up her books along with an apple. She could get used to the luxuries of living in a castle. When she turned toward her bed she noted it was ready for her to climb into, the blankets turned down and her pillows all fluffed and sat in a row. Then there was the matter of the night dress draped over the bottom edge of the bed.

She looked down at the dress on her body and frowned. It was going to be quite the task to get it off, what with all the underthings tied tight around her middle and strapped over her chest.

Her outer frock wasn't too difficult to remove but she did wish Phoebe was there to help. She struggled a little with the fasteners and the bows and reached around the back to unpluck every tiny porcelain button. But when it was finally off she let out a sigh of relief.

Except she was not even halfway done. The ties and the clasps and the lace stays on the corset were impossible to work apart when she could hardly get her fingers properly aligned with the ribbing at her back.

She groaned in frustration and fell back into the bed, giving up at once. It was useless. She was going to be stuck wearing the uncomfortable things until morning when she could find Phoebe. Never again would she allow anyone to stick her into such garments. She'd rather walk around in the nude! Well, maybe not, but right then she certainly felt that way.

Y/n was used to the underthings she normally wore. They were easy to pull on and off as needed. Not the fancy, silky, ribbed garb that currently adorned her body. With a huff, she pushed herself up to sit and leaned into the feather pillows. At the very least, her bed was a soft heavenly thing. And the apple was juicy and crisp.

She found herself bored with the Darwin book but appreciated the graphics. Most of them were useless for her particular quest, though. It was the Fanny Hill book that had her back tingling and her breath caught a time or two. She'd lost track of the hours as she turned page after page of the filthy book and kept looking toward the door to make sure no one knew what she was doing.

Of course, as titillating as the book was, soon, she found herself unable to keep her eyes open and she fell asleep just like that, sitting over her blankets, apple core browning next to her knee, with the book opened to a scene with two females enjoying one another in a way Y/n had never once heard of before.

.

"Madam. Madam Y/n…"

She was jolted awake, her eyes pried open to see the kind face of her new friend Phoebe standing over her. Quickly closing the book in her lap she tucked it under the blanket and sat up.

"You poor thing," Phoebe spoke as she took the old apple core and placed it on the small table next to her bed. "You've kept your drawers and corset on all night. Here, let me help…"

The relief she felt when the terrible hard corset was peeled from her sides was immense. She moaned and inhaled a breath like she hadn't been able to breathe properly until just then.

"Oy, thank you. I never want to wear that again!"

Phoebe laughed. "We have to get you dressed for the king at some point today, madam. I'm afraid you've no choice when he calls for you."

She held her palms outward toward the girl and shook her head. "I will not wear that thing. I can't stand it!"

Y/n felt like a child throwing a fit but she'd never worn anything so uncomfortable in all her life. She had marks dug into the skin at her sides from the stiff ribbing and pleated fabric. Even then, touching the grooves in her skin, it hurt.

"I believe we—"

A heavy knock on the door had both young women turning toward the noise. Y/n pulled the fabric of the dress over her breasts as it opened and in stepped King Harry.

"Your Majesty," Phoebe said as she lowered her head.

Y/n took a step back toward her bed feeling hot embarrassment that the king was seeing her in such a state of undress. She looked away but the sting of his gaze on her bare arms and neck felt like fire singing her blood.

He sauntered casually into her room and placed himself in the chair near the table where the fire was slowly dying. "Continue as you were."

Phoebe looked at Y/n and darted her eyes toward the dress she'd crumpled up at her bosom and reached for her shoulder to have her turn her back. "Just the chemise then. It's much softer, and we'll put the dress on after. Yes?"

Y/n nodded turning her head to see the girl in her periphery. "Yes. Thank you."

"You needn't thank her. She's your assistant. You're the queen consort to be. Act it."

She lifted her arms up when Phoebe slid the chemise over her head and responded. "She's of the noble class, My Lord. I'm just a beggar. It's only right to speak to her with respect as—"

"Noble class… a beggar. Pish! The class system is a farce. Everyone in the kingdom will bow down to you and your family once you're crowned Queen. Respect is due where I demand it, not where the aristocracy thinks it belongs."

Phoebe pulled the bow at the back of the chemise around her waist before she bent and helped her out of her drawers that she'd been in all night. It felt good to air out a little and she was thankful that Phoebe had waited to help her out of her bottoms until the chemise was draped over her backside so she was hid from the king's searing gaze. The girl held the dress up and slid it over her head before helping her put her arms in. Y/n didn't quite understand what the king meant but she was intrigued by his words about the class system.

"My family. I need to let them know where I am and—"

"The boy you were with on the street yesterday has already sent word. Your family will be at the castle for dinner tonight. I'm sure they'll all be happier than a lark once they arrive. As long as they're well behaved they will get along here fine."

She was turned around as her friend quietly adjusted her dress and attached the collar. Now she could see him directly and her eyes must have deceived her because even though he was the most ill-mannered person she'd ever met, his face riveted the eyes. His brilliant complexion and well-turned jaw were of note. Even the hair on his head was attractive. She appreciated that he didn't wear his hair in the formal old way as most men of the upper classes did. He had a rebellious edge to him that was uncommon for royalty.

Yes, she had seen him up close (all of him) the evening before but it was as if she'd forgotten the fine, pleasing details of his features. It was difficult to think him so dashing when he was so rude. And the smile that drew up on his face as he looked her up and down from his spot in the chair made her palms sweat.

When he winked at her she looked away quickly. Handsome as he may be, he was awful. Just awful.

"Leave us. I need a moment alone with my new wife."

Y/n would have corrected him if he weren't the all-powerful king. She wasn't yet his wife but she knew there was little she could say to make him listen regardless.

Phoebe left the room, quiet as a cat and Y/n stood next to her bed, watching as her king stood and walked right up to her and grabbed her hips, turning her to her side as he looked her over. "This is better than yesterday, isn't it?"

Y/n looked down at her dress and where his hands were on her as she inhaled. "I think so. I dislike the corset."

"As do I. You've no need to wear all that. The kingdom will have to get used to the new method of things."

She was surprised that he agreed. Looking up at him as he turned her to face him, he plucked at her collar. "But this is a nuisance. Would you like it off?"

Nodding she reached up to touch the collar that had been tucked into the bosom of her dress and Harry reached in to untie the laces with deft fingers. She held her breath, frozen, as he quickly released the fabric and pulled it from the top all without grazing her breasts. She imagined he was going to make an advance but he kept his fingers respectfully away from her. Which was another surprise for her.

"There we are. How did you find your bed last night?" He glanced at her rumpled blankets and she followed his gaze. The indecent book she'd been reading was only partly tucked away and she knew it before it even happened, that he'd reach around her for it.

"Fanny Hill: Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure." He quirked a brow at her and licked his lips. "What's this?"

"A book." She reached for it but he held it away from her and grasped her wrist.

"Ah, ah, ah… I'm still looking at it." He pushed her hand back down to her side and kept his eyes on her like he was curious. "Tell me, can you read?"

She swallowed thickly. Yes, she could read but was it wise for him to know that? He likely preferred a wife that couldn't read which might explain why he chose her from the street. Most men liked their women without education. But, it would be difficult to hide that she couldn't read at all and she wouldn't want to pretend either, especially when she so enjoyed doing it when she could.

"A little." She compromised.

"And you found this in our library here?"

She nodded looking from the book to the king as he narrowed his eyes over the pages, flipping through them.

"I asked him if he was afraid of a lady, and with that took and carrying his hand to my breasts, I pressed it tenderly to them; they were now finely furnished, and raised in flesh so that panting with desire, they rose, and fell, in quick heaves, under his touch."

The king read a short passage, squinting up from the page at Y/n with a grin, and then continued as her face grew hot that he knew what she'd been reading.

"And now glancing my eyes towards that part of his dress which covered the essential object of enjoyment, I plainly discovered the swell and commotion there. I stole my hand upon his thighs, down one of which, I could both see and feel a stiff hard body, confined by his breeches, that my fingers could discover no end to: curious then and eager to unfold so alarming a mystery, playing as it were with his buttons, which were bursting ripe from the active force within…"

Y/n turned and covered her face. She could hardly believe he was reading out loud the same words she'd read in her bed that had her wiggling and tensing the slightest the night before.

"Did you enjoy reading this smut? Did it remind you of my own swell from last night?" His words were spoken very near to her ear as he stood behind her. She kept her face covered and shook her head no. A lie. She wasn't ready to admit to him all the strange emotions she'd gone through the night before. And certainly, she'd never let him know about the odd fantasy she'd had of him after reading certain bits in the book. Imagining Harry standing tall above her with his cock in her face made all the blood in her limbs race to her head.

She felt him place his hand on her hip. "You did like it. I could see it in your eyes. Do you know what I did when you left my chambers last night? Can you imagine what a man with a big swell under his breaches might do when he's all alone?"

Pulling her hands from her face she turned her head but didn't look at him directly. "You called someone in to help you with it?"

She was sure that was what he was going to say. He'd eluded to it the night before so it only made sense he'd find someone else to sate his desires when she wouldn't.

"Oh, you dim little girl. There was no one else I wanted for the task but you last night. My future wife…" he spoke the words close to her ear as ran a finger down her neck, still gripping her hip. "I had to deal with the undertaking all alone after your refusal. I've never had anyone deny my request as you did."

She pushed a shaky breath from her mouth as she closed her eyes. The sensation of his warm finger trailing the length of her neck up to her jaw and back down stimulated her blood, sending it to churn hotly under her flesh. His deep voice against the shell of her ear stoked a strange ache in the pit of her belly.

Strange… well, she understood the ache truth be told. Virgin, she may be, but innocent of feelings of lust, she was not. She recognized her body's natural reaction to her king but it confused her. Perhaps it was due to that book, stuffing all those improper ideas into her brain. Desire was something she'd known before but explaining the function was foreign. She'd never acted on desire before and now, she had to contend with a man who wanted her to act on his.

Her body, of its own accord, pushed back into his chest and she arched her neck into his touch. The pad of his finger drew lazy paths but soon was replaced by a moist warm and plush mouth. She pulled in a breathy gasp when she realized he was kissing her. But the feel of his solid form behind her, pressing his hips to her rear made her limbs nearly give out.

Harry grunted a laugh against her neck as he held her up with his arm wrapped around her front to keep her securely in place. "Do you like my mouth on you?"

Yes! She did and her pounding heart was proof of it. "No."

He laughed and squeezed her tighter into his chest as he ran his tongue along the space behind her ear. "You say no but your body says yes. Shall I release you? Or shall we continue?"

She didn't want him to stop but she couldn't possibly want it either. Could she? What was she to say? If she told him to stop then would he remove her from the castle and find another Queen? Then what of her family who was newly offered shelter and provisions by the king himself? She couldn't go and ruin it but if she said yes would he take what he wanted from her without permission? Would God smite her at once for her wayward acts?

"You are not yet my husband."

The rattled moan he let out as he pressed a warm kiss to her jaw, setting her skin to flame. "But you are mine. Yes?"

She looked at her unmade bed and down at his arm that was tight across her middle. She'd never felt such a longing to engage in her shameful needs as then. Even the night before, reading the sort of smut she'd read, she felt the pull of wanton thirst but resisted it still. With the king, though, his mouth smoothing against her skin, his body, hard, warm, granite, at her back, her soft bed beckoning, the vision seared into her memory of his member (a pretty one at that).

"Yes, my King. But it's indecent until God binds us."

"Not even God himself can stop us. You needn't deny yourself of base urges. We're all just animals, Y/n, seeking the same delicious release. Have you experienced it before? Felt the elation of your lust during climax and wetted your fingers when you got excited?"

She'd never been more embarrassed in her life. Shaking her head she grunted when he pulled at her and sat at the edge of her bed, bringing her with him to sit between his legs, her back to his chest. "Never? Not once?"

His hand bunched the fabric of her dress, slowly pulling at it, exposing her leg. "Never."

"Pity! It's one of life's finest pleasures. An indulgence you must know."He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and pressed his face next to hers as he looked down at her dress and the skin of her knee.

"We don't need to disgrace God for you to know such pleasure. You can remain a virgin still, until our wedding night."

She watched his large hand squeeze at her knee and drag slowly upward revealing her thigh inch by inch. "Would you like that? I can show you how good it feels. Give you something new to crave."

She was terrified and eager all at once. But the thought of ruining herself before she was wed and the stories she'd been told about how badly it would hurt had her unsure in her answer. "I'm… I'm scared. It hurts, doesn't it?"

"If you've never tried it, how would you know it hurts?"

"I heard my aunt telling her friend about it. They both agreed it was awful. Women's bodies aren't built to enjoy it. Only men can have pleasure in it. Otherwise, it's sinful. It's how God created us."

Harry chuckled and pulled at her to bring her further back into her bed, his breeches pulling up as he moved with her and leaned himself back, her body still against him and between his legs. "My little feather-brained girl… Well, maybe you're not so feather-brained as you can read, but you've been led astray. Let your king show you the truth so you can know the mountain of pleasure you're capable of. Yes?"

She felt so exposed. Without her drawers, she had nothing to hinder his hand from sliding up her thigh to her secret little tulip. It was something she rarely even touched herself for fear of betraying God and her own body. So to feel a man's hand on her flesh, hot and searching, it had her heart pounding so hard she thought it might crack through her chest.

"I'm… I feel faint…" She placed her hands on his forearms as he helped her spread her thighs apart.

"I swear I will do no more than make you feel like a queen right now. Let me show you how delicious it is. Or shall we stop?"

He tucked his chin over her shoulder to peek down at her as he pulled her dress and he could feel her wiggling into him. She was not well-versed in the truth of biological functions, but rather, as Harry understood it, had a deeply ingrained fear of God and Anglican Christian teachings. He was not shocked to know this, as the Church of England influenced most of the ongoings of society, especially the poor with its reprehensible practices that only hindered education and growth.

Poor thing.

"Let me see your hand," he spoke quietly, turning his arm to face his palm up. Y/n slid her palm into his and he slowly pushed her hand between her legs. "I'll show you how to do it yourself. Consider it a gift."

She felt his large, warm hand over the outside of hers as he nudged her fingertips into the soft fleshy inner parts of her thigh and guided her to her private quim, tucked away under layers of fabric. He couldn't see it but he could feel the heat radiating from it.

"Take your finger and touch. Give yourself a chance to explore."

Y/n inhaled shallowly as she did what he said. He squeezed her thigh, dangerously close to where her fingers were touching herself. She'd not touched it often. A quick rub to clean or to scratch, and maybe once or twice for curiosity's sake, but never like this.

It was warm and moist and fleshy bits moved and bent away from her touch with ease. Dragging her digit up and down she only grew bolder with her exploration knowing he couldn't see her and neither could anyone else. But the sensation of what she was doing didn't falter. She was keenly aware of the illicit act and that her king was dragging his fingers so close to where she was it made her feel fuzzy and hot.

"How does it feel? Describe it."

Closing her eyes, as if somehow that would hide her shame, she opened her mouth and did her best to tell him the way she felt under her fingertips. "Like a stiff jelly. Strange… A little moist. Warm crevice that folds and splits. It's… It's difficult to say…"

"That sounds about right to me. Bring your fingers upward, to the very top of that split. What's there?"

Drawing her fingers upward she pushed her labia apart and felt her hair scattered over the outer edges of her lips and inward to a fleshy fold. "It feels much the same. I can feel the hair there, and a soft thing at the center with none."

"Press that little merry bit gently. Small circles."

She already had been. Once her digit rubbed around the space she remembered her brief investigations from before. The tingle it sent throughout her groin felt connected to her inner turmoil.

"Yes."

He smiled as he ran his fingers along her inner thigh. "Yes? Yes, what?"

She gulped her saliva and nodded. "Yes… I feel it."

"You feel it. What do you feel?"

"It's just skin and gelatin."

"It's much more than that, little mouse. That's the key to your desire. The more you press her and play with her, the more you'll feel. She'll come alive underneath your fingers. Soon, you'll be able to juice her and she'll make a mess of your fingers but you won't want to stop."

"Juice her?" Y/n blinked in confusion.

"Yes. Like a citrus. She'll gush the better she feels."

It was already feeling like something so lascivious that she had to pause before she got carried away. It felt… well it was quite nice. But it was sinful.

"You've stopped, yet you have so much more to learn. If you continue you'll see what power you possess over your own body. You can reach the agony of bliss by persisting."

The agony of bliss. Y/n knew this phrase as a fake for women. To come to bliss from meddling with her bits or participating in amorous congress was impossible! Only men could be flooded with that kind of pleasure.

"It cannot be done. I'm sure of it," she whispered and turned her face in toward his, catching the outline of his face so close to hers.

"It can be done. Don't be stubborn. Allow yourself to find the truth. Would you like me to take over for you and show you?"

"But God—"

"No more talk of God. He's not here with us. He never was." Harry reached for her fingers and pushed them back against herself, circling slowly as he spoke. "I am the one here with you now. You will seek my presence, and you will acquiesce to my will."

Slowly, she let herself relax into him and laid her head back against his shoulder as he guided her movements. She wasn't ready to confess to anyone how delightful it felt. And the more he moved her fingers around the wetter she indeed got, just as he said she would.

Harry craned his neck over her shoulder, hoping to see her wetted queam but the fabric of her dress cost him a good view. He could however see her soft thighs spread and as he leaned outward and looked at her face saw pretty parted lips and closed eyes as her chest rose and fell patterned in lust. Then he heard the smallest whimper that had him quickening his fingers and staring at the side of her face in awe.

His own bits were enlightened by the heady wetness under his fingers and soon she slid her pelvis upward and she'd let go of her finger's movements in favor of grabbing onto his forearms to let him take over. He groaned when he had full access to her cunt-lips. And the little button he'd knocked into was swollen and slick.

"You have a delightful quim, Y/n. So warm and full of life, aren't you?"

She arched her back and panted as he slid lazy fingerprints to her sex. She hadn't felt anything like it but she was both thoroughly aroused and embarrassed. Even the wetness that leaked from her was audible as Harry moved his long fingers over her crevices.

When she gasped a breath he murmured against her ear—there's my good little mouse—and he pushed himself against her for his own relief. His cock was hard, and nudging it against her backside provided him with a bit of satisfied deliverance. His bride-to-be was stubborn but she was ripe. What a pleasure to have chosen her over anyone else. It was by chance that he had seen her the day before and now he was certain that he'd been right about his selection.

(When wasn't he right?)

And oh! Y/n was sure she would be sent straight to the pit of hell for all eternity but the sudden need to see it through and know the carnal pleasure King Harry promised, overwhelmed her existence. Nothing could stop the pull of her desire to climb the mountain's peak and throw herself down into the rough and unknown valley below. Dangerous it may be, but her new willingness to gaze into the depths and explore the truth burned in her stronger than any lake of hellfire could.

He rocked against her slowly and moaned as he worked her wetness. With one hand steady, gripping at her soft thigh to hold her open, he could feel her muscles straining, shaking as she humped toward his fingers. She liked it. He knew she would. Her skin was warm and her desperate inhalations turned into mumbled nonsense.

Oh! Oh my! Fooo… Hee ooohhh…

"I want to see you let go. Come into my hand, mouse," Harry's shaky breath against her face inferred to her that he was also aroused.

Everything in her body was aching and pulsing as she writhed into his fingers for more. Her soft pearl was coated in cream, the king's fingers smeared with accurate strokes around her quim and pressed into the knob of her pleasure as temptation slid through her tummy and seeped from her.

"You're going to crave a strumming from me like this every day. And once you let me show you what it feels like to have your insides pricked and your belly tickled with my staff you'll be begging me for it."

The limn of her vision turned red and spotty and rushing blood drummed in her ears, muffling the dirty things he said to her. She could not resist the pull of her orgasm as she let out a wobbled cry. Her whole body was beating and throbbing and her insides were molten, sweet jelly.

Harry tossed his head back and parted his lips in ecstasy as he rolled his hips up and down and finally, his vital spend coated the inside of his breeches. He pumped hotly against the fabric and squeezed at her skin in his release. He flushed hot as the girl in his arms moaned and slid into his hand.

Y/n had melted into him and her legs gave out, falling flat to the bed between his thighs as she closed her eyes. She felt like an explorer. Someone who'd discovered a coveted, secret treasure that no one else had ever known. When she felt Harry's mouth against her neck she smiled in satisfaction and relief.

The shocking realization that she was still in his arms in the castle and not struck down to ash by God was almost equal to the sensation of her orgasm. Why had God not taken action upon them? Flitting her eyes open she saw a drizzle of sunlight shining over her body and Harry's as they sat on her bed, as if the sun would still rise and the day would continue to tick on as normal. As if they hadn't just participated in something so vile.

But her feelings of narrow escape turned into shameful regret when she felt his hand brushing against her skin and he grunted behind her as he moved. She shot forward and turned to look at him and found his pleasant face all flushed and at ease. How could he be so casual?

"What have I done?" She spoke to herself as she climbed away from him and smoothed her dress down to cover her legs.

Harry draped his arms across the feathered pillows and watched her with an amused expression. "What is it now?"

She got to her feet and shook her head as she spun away from the vision of the handsome man spread out on the bed she'd just been in. "We've sinned! God will find his vengeance on us soon!"

He laughed and sat up. "Does it appear to you that God cares what we just did? You are still alive and well, mouse. And I am just as healthy and whole as before."

"That doesn't mean he won't repay us with his anger."

Getting off of her bed he pulled her back into his chest and grinned as he spoke quietly.

"You are no woman of virtue, Y/n. Do not pretend you didn't enjoy yourself. The only shame you should be feeling is that you have been led to believe that your pleasure is a sin. Soon, you'll be begging me for more."

She huffed as she jerked herself away from him and stepped toward the table with the pitcher of water, placing her palms down on the wood. She heard him walking away toward her door and glanced at him as he turned before opening it.

"I'll find Phoebe to bring you your breakfast. You still need plumping."

. .

His wife-to-be could read. Harry almost couldn't believe it but she had a book on her bed that she'd been reading (naughty little thing) and he tried not to show her how surprised he was by that revelation but he was quite taken aback. Thanks to The Enlightenment, it was becoming more common for women to read but the lower classes weren't educated in that way quite yet. In truth, he couldn't have been more pleased to learn that his little mouse had some brains after all.

The middle-class proletariats and the wealthy gentry would not agree that this was a good thing. Their Christian morals led them to believe that only those of rank should have the ability. Someone poverty-stricken with the skill wouldn't know how to control their urges and read the right things. They'd balk at a woman of poverty reading just as much as they'd soon balk at the idea of Y/n being their queen. He couldn't wait to introduce Y/n and her family to the public.

The Lord Mayor had only heard that Harry had found a wife, not who the girl was just yet. He smiled as he imagined the look on his face when he met her and the family at dinner. Of course, his council would be there as well and he knew they'd have a fit over it.

"Sir, Y/n's family has arrived. They have been shown their quarters, warm baths drawn, and wardrobes ready. Dinner will be served in one hour and a half," Fred spoke. "And Y/n… Well, it seems she's unhappy with the dressings she's been given. Something about the unmentionables being too tight. She refuses to wear the appropriate clothing."

"My wife may wear whatever she pleases. If she doesn't like the underdressings then she does not need them. Tell her assistant to stop trying to force her to comply or else I'll find her a new one."

Fred quietly left the sitting room where Harry was enjoying a warm fire and a stiff gin. He'd go and help Y/n dress himself if she wasn't so squeamish around him. Though, he did enjoy their morning tryst, he knew she'd need time to get used to her new setting.

"You!" Harry spotted a worker scurrying past the room and stood from his chair.

The young man stopped and looked at the king with wide eyes as if he were in trouble. He bowed his head quickly. "My Lord."

"Whatever task you've been given, forget it. Your new duty is to go into the library and find as many smut books as you can and have them delivered to the Rose Room before the end of the day."

The man nodded. "Yes, My Lord."

. .

Y/n was as shaky as a feather as she stepped into the Great Hall with Harry by her side. Her mother and father stood quickly, followed by her sisters, and then finally her grandmother. She noted they were all washed and wearing fine clothing. Her sisters wore big grins as her mother wobbled out a sob (the woman could tend to be a bit dramatic).

They'd never seen one another dressed so nicely before. It was a new world for all of them. Her grandmother had a large pearl pin in her hair and rouge on her cheeks. Her mother's linen yellow gown looked perfectly fitted for her. Y/n's father looked regal and influential in his dark blue tailcoat and silk cravat, while her sisters were adorned in colorful muslin with full skirts.

But Y/n… All eyes were on her as she walked toward the royal table, arm tucked into Harry's. Her extravagant velvet gown was a soft green color that matched the king's eyes. The ruffled bust was nearly draped from her shoulders, her neckline on display. The skirt of the dress was full (but not as full as it would have been if she'd worn the proper gear) and there were sewn-in patterns in the shape of vines and flowers in dark green. She was a vision.

Harry's chair was pulled out first and he sat at the head of the table as Y/n sat to his right. The long table was draped in white linen cloths, topped with silver and gold platters and plates, and crystal glassware. Lavish flower centerpieces were spaced out between the covered dishes and the room smelled divine.

There were seven men that sat with them, all scrutinizing the king's pick. They'd never heard the last name of her family as it was not common in high-class society. Which could only mean that the king had not selected advantageously.

"Y/l/n… Where does that name hail from?" One of the men spoke as the servers began to plate food for everyone.

"Does it matter?" Harry barked as he shot his gaze across the table to the man who spoke out of turn.

"Of course it does. The kingdom is relying on a favorable match. And to my eye, I do not suspect these people have any clue of the standard we must uphold. We must maintain—"

"You will keep quiet about your opinion, for it does not concern you who I marry or why."

"Your Majesty, with all due respect—"

"You too will not speak on this matter." Harry raised his voice at the other man who'd chimed in. "Let us enjoy our dinner, yes? No more talk of class or agreeable matches. I am the king and I have made my choice. I'm not interested in hearing your insignificant drivel."

Y/n's carving of meat was plated before her and she nearly gasped at the spectacle. She looked up at the man who'd served it and before he could step away to carve a portion for her father who sat to her right Harry stopped him.

"Give her twice as much as the rest of us, and the fat too."

Y/n looked at the king, down to her plate, and then back at him again. "Why? I can't possibly eat—"

"You need the fat. You have been underfed for too long."

"Enjoy it, dear. The king is right," her father spoke quietly to her.

She leaned forward and looked at her mother who sat on the other side of her father and reached across to take her mother's hand as she'd begun to cry. "Don't do that, Mother. There's no need for it."

Her mother inhaled a sob and nodded. "I know. I just can't believe this is happening to us. What did we do to find ourselves in such favor? And you!" She wobbled out a shallow cry. "Who knew you'd caught the king's eye? We didn't realize he'd been courting you!"

Harry chuckled and looked at Y/n as she tried to calm her mother while her plate was piled high with meat and roasted potato. Her sisters whispered amongst themselves, discussing their outfits and the jeweled pins in their hair as the Lord Mayor sighed in displeasure.

Y/n's family was a nightmare. They were unfit for such a designation and looking at all of them The Lord Mayor was sure they were as well behaved as street dogs. Her father began eating his food before the king even took a bite of his own, the mother was sobbing like a lunatic, tears falling onto her plate, and her sisters were whispering and giggling like they were playing child's games at the royal table.

He stood from his spot, his chair sliding back and he slammed his hands down onto the table. He was provoked to finally speak his peace. "This cannot go on! What a disgrace to Thornekeep to have these commoners assigned a place amongst royalty. I will not stand for this mockery! Your father—"

"My father is dead!" Harry stood from his chair and loudly spoke over the Lord Mayor's voice. "Sit down or leave at once! You will not insult these people or I will have your head!"

"You do not have that kind of power, yo—"

"The Bloody Code says I do and I will evoke it should you say another damned word against them. Leave! All of you!" Harry pointed toward the arched opening that would lead them from the Great Hall.

The council and Y/n's family all stood up quickly. "Not you. Just the blunderbusses who think themselves worthy of their titles," Harry spoke.

The men all mumbled unintelligible things under their breath as they left their untouched food on the table and scurried away in haste. When it was just Harry and Y/n's family at the table he smiled. "Please, enjoy your supper."

The king had to admit, he quite enjoyed the liveliness of the dinner once the council and Lord Mayor were gone. Y/n's family was not trained in the usual way of the upper classes and so their etiquette was unrefined at best. They slurped and laughed and chatted like they were at a pub. Even Y/n was a messy eater as he watched her once wipe her hands on the skirt of her dress. And halfway through, the young girls were chasing each other around the table and using the linens to play hide and seek underneath.

When the dinner was finished and the family had all left the table and were taken back to their quarters Y/n's chair was pulled from behind and she stood to take Harry's arm as she looked up at him before he led them out of the Great Hall. She spotted the guard who'd taken her to her room from the evening prior and greeted him kindly.

"Good afternoon, George." She smiled at the guard.

Harry stopped and looked at his guard and down to his queen-to-be. "Do you know one another?"

Y/n nodded looking from George back up to Harry. "Yes. Last night in the library. He stood guard."

"And how do you know his first name?"

"Phoebe called him by it."

Harry looked at his guard, releasing Y/n's arm as he stepped forward. "And what do you think of my wife-to-be? Dashing isn't she?"

George flicked his sight to Y/n before fixing it to Harry. "My Lord, she'll be suitable for the kingdom."

"No, she won't, which is why I picked her. But tell me. Did you see the books she selected?"

"No, sir."

Harry let his shoulders relax as he looked down at Y/n and pulled his arm around her back, clutching at her hip. "Your assistant introduced you to him? Why is that?"

She didn't understand the inquisition at first. "Because Phoebe was tired and I told her she could return to her room to rest. She asked George if he could help me back to my room after I was finished."

The edge of his mouth flitted up before it dropped back into place. "Is that so? You two were alone in the library?"

Y/n looked from George to Harry, suddenly realizing her error. "Well, only for a bit. I sent Phoebe away. It was quick. And then I went to my room. Nothing mo—"

"Did you invite him into your room as well?"

"No! Of course not!"

"Do not raise your voice at me," he snapped.

"Sorry," she whispered and looked downward.

"Did he touch you?"

"No, My Lord."

"I'd wager he wanted to. Isn't that right, George? Pretty thing such as this can be quite tempting when the night has come. Have yourself a good look at the future queen, then?"

"No, sir."

Harry looked at Y/n and she felt his cold demeanor pouring icy down her frame as he grasped the nape of her neck. "Why not have a gander now, George? Don't be timid. Go on. Look at her. The curve of her neck and soft cheeks arouse thoughts of youth and beauty. The way her chest rises heavily under such scrutiny is quite stimulating to the eye, is it not?"

Y/n swallowed and kept her sight forward on the silk flock wallpaper as Harry held her still. The moment was unpleasant with Harry scrutinizing and intimidating his guard. George remained silent as her heart rate ramped up wildly.

"You're not even looking at her. Why is that? Is it because you're only bold enough to glimpse at what's mine when I'm not in party? While I was sleeping in my chambers my wife-to-be was alone with the night guard. Look at her."

She tried to pry away from Harry's hold and scowled at him for his rough behavior with George. George hadn't done anything wrong at all and yet here the king was, berating him and acting like a foolish cracked twat.

The guard hesitantly looked at Y/n, keeping his eyes above the line of her neck as he remained silent.

"What do you see? Hmm?" Harry practically snarled.

"Sir, I see your bride-to-be."

"That's right. Mine. Your station will be with the front guards from now on. You are not to approach her or talk to her ever again. Do I make myself clear?"

"Do not punish him! He did nothing wrong!" Y/n balked and once again, tried pulling herself from Harry's grip.

Harry squinted down at her and scoffed. "If I say he did something wrong, then he did." He released her arm, making her tumble back a few steps as he looked at Phoebe. "Take her to her room. Do not let her come back out for the night."

"You're awful!" Y/n bellowed at him. She'd had such a wonderful dinner with her family and even began to feel warmth from the king as he'd stood up for her family with such fervour when they'd been insulted by the council.

Harry merely let out an annoyed laugh at her as he looked back at George. "Tell Niall he's been promoted to your position and send him here to set up. Go at once."

If there was one thing she'd learned about the king in her short time knowing him, it was that he both infuriated and confused her to her core. And there was the matter of the way he aroused her curiosity as well, but that was a thought for another day. Because at that moment, she wanted to strike his pretty face with her fist as hard as she could muster.

When Phoebe opened the door to her room she flung herself inside and began to pull at her dress as tears worked their way down her cheeks. "I hate him! I hate him!"

"He can be quite crude at times," Phoebe offered.

"He's awful! I will… I will…" She balled her fists and shrieked loudly as she bristled in anger. "I will not marry such a devil."

"Here, let me help you," Phoebe reached for her gown and worked the buttons at the back to allow her to finally pull it off, leaving her in only her chemise and drawers. "Better?"

Y/n nodded and rubbed at her face. "Yes, thank you." She breathed and sat down on the chair near her fireplace. "I need to be by myself, I think. Will you come back in an hour? Please?"

Phoebe smiled softly. "Of course. Whatever you like. I'll return in one hour."

The silence of the room surrounded her as she closed her eyes and laid back into the chair to breathe and to think. She wasn't used to the ways of the upper class and she certainly wasn't used to being bossed around as the king did to her and to everyone else. But, she could admit, she enjoyed the lavish things around her. Her bed in particular was of note.

She looked toward the perfectly made, pillowy cloud across the room and sat up quickly when she saw a basket on the floor next to it. She hadn't seen it before. Standing from the chair, she walked toward it, assessing the contents, and realized it was full of books!

Plucking one of the bindings up to inspect she inhaled softly when she realized what kind of book it was. Flipping through the pages she smiled and then looked down at the basket again and bent to see another book of smut and then another, and yet another.

She sat at the edge of her bed and stared toward her fireplace. There was no question to her who'd sent the books for her. Phoebe, could not only not read but wouldn't dare do such a thing. The only other person who knew about the smut book she'd gotten from the library was the same man she wished to give a thorough thrashing to.

The king, Harry Styles, had sent a basket of books to her room. And Y/n wasn't sure how that made her feel. She wanted to hold onto her rage for a while longer but as she pulled herself into her bed and opened up one of the books to read, she felt a sliver of her anger disintegrate. Perhaps things weren't perfect, but certainly, anyone would agree, it was much better than sitting out in the cold seeking small kindnesses from strangers who thought her no better than a street dog.

. .

NEXT

. .

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[fungateshortcakes]

Tummy ache

Do I have kids? No. Do I want kids? Fuck no. Did I still write this because dad logan makes me feel a certain type of way? HELL YES

Pairing: Worst!Logan x single mom!Reader

Summary: It's late and your little daughter Laura won't stop crying and screaming, no matter what you do. You take her to your best friend Wade, who lives in the same apartment buildung. Will he and Logan be able to help you?

Wordcount: 3.4k

Warning/tags: english is not my first language, fluff, slight missunderstandings, Wade bc he needs a warning, implied sexual themes, friends to lovers, just cuteness, Laura doesn't exists as an adult like in the movie, rushed ending?, leave me alone I finished this at midnight

__________________________________

Logan was snoring on the couch in Wades apartment when loud, frantic knocks sounded on the door. He grumbled in annoyance as he turned, pulling a pillow over his head.

He heard Wade skip to the door in a pair of white underpants with hearts on them and a loose, grey wolverine fangirl shirt. "Must be the horse dildo I ordered" he spoke happily as if it was the most normal thing to say. Once Wade opened the door, the piercing shrieks of a baby crying echoed through the apartment.

You held your one year and a half old daughter in your arms, her face red as she cried into your shoulder. Wade noted that your hair was a mess and you seemed awfully tired. Well- it was late and on any other day, you and your daughter would already be sleeping. But there was clearly something that bothered her. She had been crying and screeching and in discomfort for an hour without you finding what caused it or how to fix it.

You tried feeding her, but she wouldn't open her mouth for the spoon. You tried reading to her, but she would always push away the books. You changed her diapers in case her sensitive skin was irritated by the dampness, but she hadn't peed. You didn't know why she was so distressed and nothing seemed to distract her from whatever it was that made her cry.

You were desperate. And while your best friend Wade wasn't really...fond of kids, which you couldn't blame him for, you still went to him for help. You never truly wanted kids yourself. But when the condom broke and your ex left you upon finding out you were pregnant, you were stuck with your baby. And now you wouldn't trade her for the world. Except in times where she was screaming with no appearant reason. "Hey Wade, I'm so sorry to bother you guys this late at night, but Laura, she won't stop crying. I've tried everything and I don't know what to do" you croaked, rocking the small child in your arms, shushing her to no avail.

Wade brought you inside so you wouldn't stay outside in the hallway any longer. No need for some neighbors to peek their head out of their doors to see what was going on.

In situations like these, Wade could be oddly serious and actually tried to help. He knew you were insecure because of your baby. You didn't want to be a nuisance or burden to anyone because you knew that your daughter could be a lot. Kids were high maintanance and you didn't want to make people feel like they were obligated to make room and drop everything once you arrived with your child. You couldn't expect from anyone that they were okay with you bringing your kid over. But Wade wanted you to know that even though he didn't like kids, you were his best friend and Laura had been nothing but a sweetheart so far. You were always welcome in his apartment.

Wade kicked Logan from the couch "Get your fat ass off the couch, the Lady needs a place to sit" he loudly said over Lauras crying. Logan groaned. You sat on the sofa and tried to take up as little space as possible. "Im sorry Logan, didn't want to disturb your sleep." you apologized meekly. "I can..I can move to the chair here" you muttered, pointing to an uncomfortable-looking wooden chair that replaced an armchair, which had recently been thrown out of the apartment due to mysterious stains and various rips and cuts in the fabric.

You had met Logan a few times since he lived with Wade and Althea. And you would be a liar if you said he didn't catch your eye. He was tall, broad and very handsome, pretty much right up you alley. But there was no way he was looking for a chaotic single mother that barely had her life together and struggled to raise an unplanned child because her ex left her. Yeah, no. You were miserable. Logan didn't need any of that.

Adding to that, he always seemed to avoid you when Laura was near. You just thought he didn't like kids, which was totally fair. Truthfully, Logan liked kids and had always wanted some of his own, but it just...never happened. With him being the worst wolverine and all.

Then why did he avoid you and your baby?

Simply said, he didn't want to scare her. Most kids looked at him like he was some sort of big, bad monster. Some ran away, some started crying, others hid from him behind their parents when he walked by. He wasn't good with children either because they never let him close enough before getting scared. He was afraid that Laura would react the same way like all children did. He didn't want you to back away once you realised that Laura didn't approve of him.

He couldn't bear only seeing you from afar.

As you were about to stand up from the couch, Logan stopped you. "No, its fine. Stay on the couch. I can move" he replied and you felt another pang as he moved away from you again.

Wade leaned over the couch, looking down at Laura who was still wailing uncontrollably. You sighed deeply, a throbbing ache behind your eyes. "Why won't you stop crying? What's wrong, sweetheart?" you nearly sobbed as well. You were so tired of this, so tired of this sound. You felt so helpless and stupid. "Maybe she wants some food? We have some left-over pizza, I can grind that stuff up into a slurry for her or something" Wade suggested.

You softly shook your head. "She doesn't want to eat, I tried. I also tried to read her a bedtime story, but she just push me away. I also changed her diapers but nothing helped" you rasped, ready to just fall asleep on the spot.

Wade reached down to get your crying daughter out of your arms. "How about you get some sleep while Wolvie and I take care of Laura? Maybe we'll find out what's rubbing her the wrong way." Wade said, cooing to your crying baby. You fell onto the couch, closing your eyes. "I can't just sleep when she is crying" you mumbled, clearly deadly tired.

"We'll take care of her. You go sleep" Logan drawled and his deep voice soothed you even more, made you even more sleepy. It was so easy to let your body betray your mind and you hated it. "Okay..." you whispered, too tired to argue. And before you could snuggle into the couch cushions, you felt two strong arms slip under your body and lifting you up as if you weighted nothing. You were so tired, you couldn't even gasp or protest as Logan brought you into Wades room, your senses enveloped with his scent.

He carefully lowered you down onto the matress, covering you up with a blanket. "Sleep tight, love. We'll take great care of your little one, so you don't have to worry about a thing" he drawled softly and only after closing the door behind him did he hope that you hadn't catched his slip-up, that he had called you love.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

In had been another two hours of constant crying and screaming. The kid must be exhausted from all the crying, but she still didn't stop. If you asked Logan, it became even worse.

"God, can you shut up for a minute? I am trying everything here!" Wade stressed, bouncing Laura in his arms and patting her back. "Don't tell your mom I said that" he whispered right after. Laura wailed and pushed herself away from Wade with her tiny hands, which were surprisingly really strong. She squirmed in his grasp, desperate to be set down.

"This is how you thank me? I've worked my ass off the past hour to get everything to your liking and now you push me away?" he grumbled, but set her down with a loud 'ouch!' after she started to scratch him.

Her tiny feet waddled against the livingroom floor as fat tears rolled down her chubby cheeks. She had a tummy ache, but she couldn't communicate that with anyone. There were a few words she knew and could say- cat, dog, mama. But she didn't have the words to say that something was hurting.

Logan sat on the couch and watched her as she stood a few feet away from him with her red face, screaming together the whole neighborhood. He sighed deeply, the sound making his ears ring. Then, out of nowhere, she waddled over to him.

"No, no, bub. Not a good idea. Get back to uncle Wade" he told her, scooting up the couch a bit more. He could have just stood up and walk away- why didn’t he? Laura stood between his legs now, demanding uppies from him as she cried. Logan shook his head, ready to call Wade from the kitchen, when Laura began screetching, stretching herself to Logan, standing on her small tip toes.

With a huff, he picked her up, his big and warm hands eveloping her small body. He leaned back against the couch with her on his lap. To his surpise, she quieted down. "You okay now, bub?" he asked her, jumping as she snuggled herself against his chest. Due to his mutation, Logan was always very warm. His whole body was like a heater and that warmth soothed Lauras tummy ache, unbeknownst to him.

The apartment was quiet now, only a few hiccups and sighs coming from Laura as she let her stomach ache be washed away by Logans cozy warm body. He didn't know what to do! One minute he was tortured by her screams and now she was napping on him. On him! Out of all people, she chose to rest on him.

"Is she dead!?" It was now Wades turn to yell as he came stumbling into the kitchen because it suddenly went all quiet. Logan didn't answer him nor did he move a muscle, too scared to wake your baby up.

"What the fuck" Wade blurted out upon seeing something he had never thought he would ever witness in his entire life. Logan shushed him, making Wade frown. He came closer, his face next to Lauras sleeping one "You little cheating slut" he sharply whispered, earning himself a shove from Logan. "Seriously, did you knock her out? Why is she sleeping all of a sudden?" Wade asked with crossed arms.

"I don't know. She wanted me to pick her up, so I did. Then she stopped crying and fell asleep" Logan explained, a warm feeling spreading in his chest as he watched the slow rise and fall of Lauras breath, her tiny hand tightly holding onto his shirt.

"Wow" Wade said. "You're the baby whisperer" Logan shot him a glare.

Wade went on a rant about how everything would have been easier if Logan took Laura from the start before finally falling asleep draped over the chair, leaving Logan alone with his thoughts. For a moment, Logan thought about bringing Laura to you so she could sleep with her mom. But as he tried to peel her off of him, she started fuzzing and whimpering until she was laying back on his chest.

He sighed deeply. Well, gotta make the best of the situation, huh? With a grunt, he made himself comfortable on the couch and fell asleep with a broad hand securily holding Laura on top of him.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

You woke up well rested. Weird. You haven't slept this good since Laura had been born.

Laura!

You jumped awake, stumbling over some stuff in Wades room before you reached the door. It was quiet as you opened it and you were met with the sight of Logan, the fucking Wolverine, sound asleep with your daughter cuddled up on him as if he was some kind of big teddy.

Your heart soared in your chest, your stomach did flips and summer saults. And your pussy throbbed. Couldn't help it, seeing him with your baby did something to your ovaries. It was...so cute. You wanted nothing more than to snuggle up with them, trace patterns onto his pecks while Laura would squeak out an adorable smile-

"Mama" Laura squealed suddenly, flashing you a smile with her few teeth. "Hey there, baby" you cooed to her, kneeling down next to the couch to be eye-level with her. She smiled brightly, whatever it was that had bothered her yesterday completely forgotten. "You seem happy using uncle Logan as a pillow" you said to her, kissing her chubby cheek.

Logan started waking up, only registering Laura at first. "You slept well, bub?" he muttered with a deep sleep laced voice, gently rubbing Lauras small head with his large hand that easily fitted around the back of her head.

"Yes, I did. Thank you for asking" you giggled softly, amused by the way Logan nearly jumped out of his skin upon noticing that you were there too, witnessing how he went soft for your daughter. An embarrassed blush krept onto his face and he cleared his throat, sitting up and avoiding your gaze. "Sorry, she...she only stopped crying when she sat on my lap"

You smiled softly at him. "Seems like she really likes you, then." and I like you too, you wanted to add, but didn't. "She is usually not that touchy with people she barely met" you said and hearing your reassurance- the fact that Laura seemed to like him- it warmed his heart. But he would never admit that.

"Well, I guess I'm flattered" Logan replied with the hint of a smile, his gaze soft as you lost yourself in his eyes, Lauras babbling fading into the background. For a moment, you let yourself think about what could have been. This baby, it could have been Logans and yours. She could have been born because two people truly loved each other. Did Logan love you? You doubted it. But when he looked at you like that, you allowed yourself to be fooled.

"I don't know how you manage to fuck each other just with your eyes, but get a room. There are children present" Wade suddenly said outraged, covering Mary Puppins eyes.

You picked up Laura from Logans lap, holding her against your hip to bring distance between you, Logan and Wades teasing. Logan cleared his throat, clearly disappointed.

"I am so, so thankful that you guys helped me. I don't know what you did or what was wrong with her, but she seems all better now. Is there anything I can do to show my gratitude? you asked, gently bouncing Laura in your arms.

Logan shook his head "No need, bub" he grumbled in his deep voice. He would have done this a thousand times if it meant he could hold your baby in his arms as if it was his. "Make that creamy ass mac and cheese and my life is yours. That stuff tastes and sounds better than any pussy" Wade chimes in, making you laugh. You promised to invite both of them over for dinner sometimes this week and they happily agreed. Laura squeaked out a cute "bye!" before you went back to your own apartment again.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

Ever since that day, visits to either Wades or your apartment became more frequent and Laura couldn't be happier seeing Logan pretty much every day. She would stick to his leg from the minute she saw him and to the last second before he left. It was adorable and made you fall even deeper in love with someone you could never have.

Wade made it his mission to steal Laura away from you and Logan. Partly because he wanted you to spend more time alone, and to teach her some words since he was her 'uncle' after all.

Laura sat on his lap, staring down at Wades phone. He looked over her head. He had a picture open that showed you, Laura, Logan and Wade. "And who is that?" he pointed to you, earning a delighted squeal from Laura as she pointed to your smiling face on the picture as well "Mama!" she babbled. Wade cheered her on, applauding her. "That's right, and that is Dada. Dada" he pointed to Logan. Laura recognized him, smiling brightly and giggling, but she didn't say anything. "Can you say that? Dada?" Wade asked in the best baby voice he could muster. But still, Laura wouldn't say anything. "Come on, say Dada. Da-da" Wade tried one last time, but Laura unwrapped himself from his arms to go and play with some toys scrattered on the floor. He huffed in frustration. It was easier to teach kids swear words than this.

Two days later, the day for the dinner came and someone rang your doorbell. You left Laura to play on her playmat and went over to the door, opening it a slit before realising that it was Logan. You fixed your hair with flushed cheeks, you hadn't expected him to come this early, you had just started the dinner preperations. "Oh, hey Logan. What are you doing here? Dinner was planned in two hours" you said, gingerly letting him into your apartment which you hadn't had the time to tidy up yet. Logan wasn't the guy to judge, but you still felt insecure.

"I thought I'd help you with the cooking and all. Look after Laura so you can work in peace" he said, knowing that he was just here to spend more time with you and Laura alone to give him the feeling of having his own little domestic family that he will never actually experience.

You smiled at him "That's very nice of you, but Laura is actually being very umcomplicated today" speaking of which, you showed him that your kid was silently playing with her toys. Upon noticing you and Logan, she squealed and stood up slowly, trying to keep her balance, before she waddled up to him excitedly. "There's my little pumpkin" he drawled, bending down to pick her up swiftly.

"Dada!" she giggled, making you an Logan stop in your tracks. "Did you hear that?" he asked you, looking over at you with a shocked expression. You frowned. You had never taught her to say that. "Sweetheart, who is that?" You asked the little girl, tapping Logans arm, just to be sure you hadn't heard her incorrectly. "Dada" she squeaks again, playing with his coarse beard.

You both looked at each other in disbelieve and for a second, you feared Logan woulf shove Laura into your arms and leave. "Look, I'm sorry. I don't know where she got that from" you tried to apologize, but the rejection from Logan never came.

He held her lovingly to his chest, giving her forhead a kiss. It made your heart pound faster. "No, it's okay" he reassured you, his large hand enveloping the back of Lauras head. "I...I could be her dad. If you want me to be" his question struck you like lightning, it was like a damn marriage proposal.

A marriage proposal you would never say no to. He looked at you with hopeful eyes, waiting for your answer and worrying he had overstepped.

"Yes. Be the father she never had. And please be the love I always wanted" you whispered, leaning up to kiss him. The kiss was soft, your lips brushing against the other and it was nothing you had ever felt before. You had kissed your ex- but never did it feel like this. So right. His free hand snaked around your waist, deepening the kiss until Laura decided to pull at your shiny necklace.

You smiled at her, taking her into your arms. "Do you want to play with daddy while I make mac and cheese?" you asked your daughter and minutes later, Logan had brought her playmat and some toys into the kitchen to sit beside her on the ground to watch and entertain her. It was like nothing had changed. Little did you know, Logan had accepted the little girl as his daughter way before today, even if you guys had never confessed.

And as you stole glances down to Logan, who was already looking at you with these half lidded bedroom eyes, you knew that after dinner, Logan and you would be trying for Lauras sibling.

_______________________________

I really hoped you liked this, I feel like I've rusted a bit. Still got a lot of smut ideas and fics open that I need to finish. Wish me luck☹ if you saw any grammatical mistakes, no you didn't. Leave me alone im tired

Btw, thanks to @buck-star for motivation me to finally finish this <33

[hattersrabbit]

SEE NO EVIL

batfamily x clairvoyant reader | sfw

CW! gn reader, hurt comfort, supernatural elements, good dad Bruce wayne supremacy, descriptions of crime scenes, descriptions of murder and injury, religious themes (not to harm or in bad faith), mental health issues, reader is vigilante (my oc's alias is used), john constantine is also there

Summary! You're family isn't all that believeable to the paranormal. Unfortunately, it's time that they come to terms that you can see it all, and it's really starting affect you in a bad way.

✎ᝰ. I was rewatching the conjuring movies since the 4th ones trailer is out and I got inspired so here 🫵 for you

part 2 (wip)

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

It was easy for your strange powers to go unnoticed.

Also it helped you hadn't told anyone that you could see ghosts, or demons in visions. Seeing what could possibly happen in the past and what could possibly happen in the future.

You're family didn't believe in the paranormal despite the fact Gotham working with magic users.

In fact Gotham was haunted; you saw everything and it was horrifying.

Case and point; like when you were dressed as your vigilante person you were simply patrolling your route with Spoiler. What made it hard was the fact that you could see the ghost of a man at the edge of the buildings top.

A dangling foot and staring at you with those ghostly eyes. Taking every bit of yourself to stay calm. Not alert Spoiler that you were seeing something she couldn't.

It wouldn't turn away and you couldn't ignore it. You've been seeing these spirits for so long. You don't know if you can even handle this anymore.

"Nymph? Are you okay?"

"Huh!?" You jumped. Spoiler's eyes full of slight worry and confusion. "Oh I'm okay."

"Alright. Looks like you just saw a ghost." She dismissed you and went back to surveying your surroundings.

Oh how right she was.

Perhaps you should tell Bruce that his father was over his shoulder. Maybe you should by seeing how proud he was. His mother was bit of the way looking on with a smile.

A pleasant memory.

The two looked at you. Couldn't help but freeze up at those eyes of theirs. So much like Bruce's ice blue eyes. They were smiling at you with pride.

A whisper into your ear, "Take care of yourself, dear."

Every now and then you'd see them. Always a break from the scary figures you regularly saw in Gotham. Or the various demons that hung over apartments and houses.

And people.

Maybe the entities on your father's shoulder were sad, or angry? They came from all over. Some sobbing and some threatening for his very demise.

You didn't like such things.

Jason was the worst. The spirits and darkness that surrounded him was worrisome. For the longest time you watched over him despite being younger.

Always confused by it but he let it slide. You two were closer than most, but he didn't know that you did it to check on the ghosts.

They were horrifying.

Some had influence over emotions.

When Bruce and Jason would argue you could see them snickering. Voices loud in your ears. Forever to hear the unbearable. No one else heard or sense what was so dangerous.

The same went for Dick and Bruce. It hurt to see it happen.

Bruce always looked so sad after.

Alfred had questioned why there was rosary around your neck. One on your wall above your bed.

None of them really believed in such things, or magic despite the involvement in it. You knew the supernatural had its claw around you all.

The manor walked with monsters. They haunted everyone.

You dismissed it.

Alfred gave you a look but left it alone. You didn't want to explain any more than you needed. You preferred not having to describe what you were feeling.

Especially worse when even touching objects you could see and feel everything. When murders would occur, and you and Tim would find evidence you'd be the one to collect it all.

You two, along with Bruce were smart. While those two used their detective brain to solve it you could see it all. The pain and horrors of what was experienced. All the anger that was dealt to the dead person on the ground.

Relatively the killer would be found.

They would praise you.

The monsters simply glared.

The phantoms that hung over your father made you anxious. Always whispering for his death to become truth, but even so he survived.

The phantoms would torment you.

You wondered when the bruises started appearing on your skin. Wondered when your energy was just suddenly being sucked out of you.

Even one time you woke up with a gash in your leg. It wasn't hard for your family to notice the injury.

"How'd you get that, miss?" Alfred asked. His brows locked up suspiciously. You simply said you must have gotten it and hadn't noticed it.

He didn't believe you.

Bruce was worried. The man had been hovering more than ever. Recently during patrol you were patrolling with him and Damian more. Steph and Tim seemed quite upset about it but they understood.

You're recent behavior had been noticed.

Leslie did her best, but even so nothing could be done. You were simply tired. Tired of the monsters that tormented your sight and sleep.

Bless you when John Constantine came to visit. Exorcism was preformed on a presumably possessed man. The bats were less impressed, but they left it alone.

Again, you'd think they used to magic but bats were they were human. Even if they worked with meta humans, gods, and aliens.

You on the other hand found semblance with him.

On this recent case, a man, presumably possessed was going around killing people.

"Possessed? Killing people."

"Wasn't your boy under controll of the Lazarus Pit?"

Magic was a sore spot for Jason. The boy in this case rolled his eyes. "It was torturous to be under something else's control. We need to get it the fuck out of here."

You could attest to that. Sometimes Jason would go through rough patches and you'd calm him down. In the process you saw all the pain and you hated it.

The attempts on Tim and Bruce's lives were traumatic for you. You couldn't deny your image of Jason changed after that even if not of the Lazarus Pit's control. You were able to hide it relatively well.

Jason was good. You trusted him as he did you.

You didn't know how he'd react to your gift. That fact that you saw everything. No doubt he'd be shaken by that fact. Probably then pushing you away, because that seems to be everyone's method in this family.

Blood covered the floor. Bruce and Tim going over the crime scene. The rest of your siblings off trying different leads. You stood next to Constantine.

The blonde man surveyed the room closely. Looking for any signs of demonic or a evil spirit possession. His eyes had recognition as he looked around.

You wouldn't have left if it hadn't been for the pale man who was dirty and bloody. A ghost of another. His figure stalking towards you. John didn't seem to notice him, or maybe he did. Paying no mind to the ghost of a victim.

His ghostly figure whispering to you,

"He made me do it."

You didn't answer. Only stared wide eyed. Fear in your bones.

"He's gonna do it again...Stop him-"

His mouth opened. Blood came rushing out like a river. Trembling body. Almost like a reactment a knife seemed to appear. A stab to the heart.

Without warning you fled. Bruce and Tim's voices echoing. You couldn't find a care in the world to say why. It was all too much. Holding your head and body it was all too much.

Fear overcoming your body.

The stress was too much.

"Hey kiddo." John walking up to you with his hands in his pockets. "Some scene made?" His brow went up when seeing your face.

Bags, and less color in your complexion. "Hey what's wrong?" You didn't answer. Only collapsing onto the dirty hallways floor. Hugging your self when once again faced with another phantom.

"Do you see her?" You asked. A trembling voice echoing. Almost too quiet for John to hear. The woman being a woman with a slit neck. Ghostly eyes and bloody hands. "She killed her children." Her wicked smile confirmed it.

John seemed stunned. "You can see...ghosts?"

"All of them." You removed your glove and rolled up your suits sleeve. A giant bruise could be seen. Even going so far as to remove your boot to reveal a bandaged leg. "They won't leave me alone." Tears finally falling down your face.

"Oh, Kid. I'm sorry." He got down his knees. His arms snaking around you after you came a gentle nod. "They won't leave you alone? Like you can see them everywhere?"

"Even in my dreams." You shook your head. "I can't go to sleep normally. Everytime I wake up i have bruises or a sudden gash. It won't stop. Everyone's worried about me, and sooner or later I suspect I'll be dead." A sob finally fell from your lips.

"I know. It can be hard. Your attracting them, somehow, perhaps because of Bats. Or simply your that susceptible to you." He turned to look at you fully. "Some have attached themselves to you."

"Really?"

"Their weakening you. I'm assuming you see other than bad spirits, yes?"

"Yes. Sometimes I see B's parents. They always tell me to take care of myself."

"I can get Zatanna and we'll take care of it. Just hold out for longer while." John hugged you tightly. "Trust me, Kid. I know it's hard to see things that others can't."

You sniffled. "Okay, thank you." You hugged him back. You pretended that the breathing down your neck wasn't from a murderer; a man who killed several women.

They told you. For the sake of tormenting you.

After all the visions were just as terrifying.

They weren't done with you this night either. Having gotten home and everyone headed for bed (except Duke since he was day shift), and slept.

You settled into your bed. Eyes feeling heavy due to not getting the right amount of sleep. The visions of the future haunted you. Always so horrible. Your siblings and father getting hurt in ways you never wished for.

Your bed dipped and you realized it was Ace. Softly smiling the dog licked you hand as you petted him. Recently he had been coming to your bed.

Noted animals always seemed to see things humans weren't able. Never have you been so grateful for Ace. As a thank you Ace was awarded with kisses atop his forehead.

Finally settling down in your bed. Trying to get comfortable, and hopefully your dreams would be terrifying.

You were wrong.

The sight of the man you were after. A man wrapped in chains. White eyes and bleeding blood. Sobbing for it to stop.

Make it stop.

The ghostly sight of a demon reigned above. Black eyes. Mocking figure you treasured close to your heart.

It was a dream. This was all too much for you. Becoming lucid it became so much worse. The demon in your face. A hand around you neck.

Thorns pricking in your skin. Body on fire as you garbled out noises. Pleas for it all the stop. You could die in your sleep.

You'll die.

Gotham will be destroyed.

I'll never leave you alone.

You'll never escape us.

You screamed loudly. Your voice feeling like an echo and suddenly you were falling.

Ace was barking when you opened your eyes to find a demoic creature looking down at you. Blood and dirt on its body. A body of a human.

Giggling. It roared and you screamed. Thrashing as it attacked your. A blood curdling scream that mixed with Ace's barks.

"DAD!"

Like a screech you screamed for Bruce. The monster on you and tearing at your skin. Bruises no doubt forming on you as you rolled off the bed. Back hitting the wood hard, and pain rushed up your body.

Bloody injuries bleeding into the wood. Covering your skin. It wouldn't leave and for some reason it was attacking you.

Why? Why you?

Ace's barks never let up.

Even as the door slammed opened to reveal Bruce looking on with a shakened expression. He watched you moving on the floor like it was attacking you.

When had it left?

Ace having lept off the bed he joined you on the floor. Desperately trying to get you to stop hurting yourself even more. All the movement making your injuries worse.

"[ ]! Baby! Sweetheart it's okay!" He grabbed you into his body. You immediately clung to him, stopping your thrashing around. Ace's body not leaving you alone. Crying and sobbing from fear and pain.

"What happened?!" His voice was shaking. Eyes taking in the various bruises over your body. The blood hot on his nose and seeing blood through your night shirt. Three claw marks when he pushed up the damn thing.

"Make it stop- make them stop, dad!" Despite it hurting your arms you clung to Bruce. The cuts in your arms rubbing together as you sobbed. "They won't go away-!" You're voice was strangled as you sobbed.

"I keep seeing them- I can't sleep! I can't-" you couldn't speak any longer. Your chest was hurting too. No doubt tons of blood on your chest from scars.

Blood coated Bruce's silk pajamas.

You're siblings stood out the door with wide eyes.

Dick covering his mouth with teary eyes.

Jason's eyes were filled with unfamiliar fear.

Tim was bewildered.

Damian was beside himself. What the hell was he looking at?

Cassandra wanted to go to you.

Stephanie held Cass back. Horror and tears in her eyes.

Duke couldn't believe his eyes. His own anxiety shot up the roof.

Alfred came rushing in with a first aid kit. The old man shakened up, which was a rare sight. Far too disturbing for Bruce and the Kids.

Along, Alfred the Cat and Titus came rushing in. The animals joining Ace in crowding you with worry.

Bruce was whispering gentle nothings into your ears. He didn't know where to comfort you. Everywhere was injured. Your chest and back. Arms and legs. Neck and maybe even your head.

"Whats going on?" It was a simple question.

You stilled. Eyes wide.

Like you saw a ghost. "They won't go away. I saw him, the one John is looking for. He attacked me. All of them." You looked behind Bruce. He noted it.

"The phantoms want you dead, Dad." You turned to Jason. "They want you back in the grave." Your older brother was shakened by that news.

"Make them go away. Call Zatanna and John...I don't want to die...they'll kill me." You pleaded.

You were inconsolable. The family didn't know what to do. It was hard to cover your injuries as you refused to leave Bruce's side. You couldn't because you'd be alone.

Ace was there. But it wasn't enough.

You didn't want to be alone. You're family could speak to you, despite not being able to see it all. To see the horror of what you saw.

The living room was taken over. Pillows and blankets piled upon each other. A movie blaring on the TV.

A big space for you and house animals in the middle. Damian was quite appalled to see that Titus was refusing to leave you. Never seen him so close to someone else other than him.

The same could be said for Ace.

Despite that you refused to leave Bruce's arms. You're father didn't protest and your siblings let it happened.

You were so scared. They could see it clear as day.

A call was made by Jason quick to John. His voice threatening the warlock to come quickly tomorrow or else he'd have a bullet in the groin.

Late-night cookies prepared by Alfred. You were smothered in blankets and held by Bruce. You refused to let go.

The warmth of your siblings also refused to leave. Protectiveness swallowing them when you told them all you've seen. What you've seen all your life.

The ghosts of demons and spirits.

Bruce was crying when you admitted you could see his parents. Even saying you could feel Martha's ghostly motherly touch on you. A sad expression on her as she kissed you better.

Thomas next to Bruce. His expression hard as he looked at the injuries you recieved.

The supernatural was real and you could see it. All of it and it tormented you. A gift, sure, but you saw evil. It wouldn't leave you alone, and many attached itself to you.

"I promise baby it'll be okay." Bruce whispered to you. A kiss to your forehead just as Damian's arms wrapped slightly more tighter around you. You winced but you didn't mind.

"Sleep. We'll be here if something happens to you."

You were scared. Heavy eyelids threatening to close. Bruce's kissed the side of your temple. "It's alright."

You believed in your father, and all your siblings who were close. Closer than normal. Wanting to make sure you were never harmed again.

With that belief in your mind you slept.

Feeling content, even if the demon was in the corner.

A source of darkness can never defeat love.

And you had plenty of it.

[sqgeism]

haii!! Can I ask the reaction of amphoreus men to the reader don’t feel like they deserve them and feeling guilty about it? 🙏

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 if i'm turning in your stomach | amphoreus men x gender neutral reader

💌 — ; am i making you feel sick ? he's so.. happy with you, and you don't seem to understand. they're in the glory and light as a chrysos heir, what could have possibly be seen in you for them to ever want to share that light?

love mail — haiii anonnie ! thank you for requesting :D in this fic, i mention the very likely theory of phainon being kevin from hi3 ! it isn't a major plot point but it is mentioned so if ure confused dont worry so am i ヽ(´Ａ`)ﾉ love u guys mwah ! 2/5.

now.. anaxa isn't a fan of gossip, accepting words at face value is foolish. especially since he is a man from a field of alchemy, trying and testing until he sees results. in this case, the truth.

but when a mutual companion, that babbling blue haired student of his, tells him that you've been feeling rather.. sad recently, he was determined to find out why.

in your defense, you were never meant to have him figure out, but this concoction you were working on was really starting to get on your nerves. you figured anaxa was still at the academy, so you were free to yell at the vial of glowing liquid like you could peer pressure it into getting it to cooperate. "stupid, stupid." you grumbled, your fists curling into a ball on the table. "i hate this, why can't i just... be like anaxa? he must feel ashamed with me. i can't do something as simple as a healing potion, after all."

you know these words aren't true, but you can't completely erase the fact you still feel them. your boyfriend was praised for his expertise in his field, couldn't you at least have learned something?—

it was then that you felt someone press up against your back, head leaning over your shoulder as anaxa sighs. his hands wrap around your waist, looking at your face like you're the moon. "your ingredients are perfect, dove. down to the measurements, but i'm sure your error comes from your order of mixing. listen to me, start with.."

you listen to his guide, trying to perfectly replicate the sequence as he speaks, but it's distracting. he hasn't.. stopped looking away from you while you work. not to mention, his hands trace the curves of your waist, as if keeping your body to memory. his sultry voice in your ear is NOT helping either.

"i heard you, you know." he mumbles, shifting his head to press kisses to your shoulder blades, somewhat relishing the way you shiver.

"do you really think i'd ever focus my time on someone who self proclaims their inadequacy?" you don't answer. "your intelligence is unmatched, dove. i couldn't think of anyone with a brain like yours, while also having a heart kind enough to open a man like me."

his advances move up to your neck, and at this point, the potion is long forgotten. your hands are too shaky to focus anyway. "please.. never think you're not good enough for me. i couldn't handle you leaving me for false truths."

your husband is a literal king, warrior, and an unmovable force.. you wonder why he settled down with an ordinary mortal. you're not quite in the spotlight, and instead, a humble historian. which means you're well versed in mydei's tales, especially ones pertaining to his past. according to rumor; mydei is fated to fall for someone for all of eternity, they were originally a warrior sworn to him, but had died tragically for mydei in the middle of a battle, in fear that the enemy had possibly been able to reach his weakest spot. after a desperate plea from the gods, they had been kind enough to have his lovers soul reborn every time they've come face to face with death. you.. were apparently the first one he's met ever since 'your death'.

and while you're.. comforted by that idea, the fact that you're fated to find mydei in every life you'll live, you also feel.. unsure. had the chrysos heir fallen for you, or for someone you used to be. and you could never really live up to be who you were.

that person was a warrior, one mydei cherished like his other half, and the myths of the two of them are romantic. how he spent hundreds of years mourning them, how they haunted his narrative. could he ever truly love who you are now?

"sweetheart?"

mydei's voice breaks through your thoughts, and you come back to reality—surrounded by your ancient maps and history. you're in your study, staring down at one of the many books written on the chrysos heirs. "are you staring at that old thing again? i told you, i don't like the way they drew me in that book." his laugh makes you feel guilty, you aren't even sure why. something about his love feels undeserving.

when you don't reply, he realizes you're not quite on a page about him.. but about you. your past life.

mydei knows how you feel about it, you've talked about it under the moon with him in hopes that its light will keep your secret safe. but he knows reassurance won't fix your insecurity easily, he needs time, and he'll give you all of it. he's waited to find you for all these years, what kind of man would he be to make you think you're anything less than precious?

carefully turning your body to him, his hand trailing up your cheek as he feels his heart ache. "sweetheart, my darling.." before he can even finish, you lean your head against his bare chest, listening to his heartbeat in silence. "mydei, do you promise.. that this heart is mine? you.. you aren't after someone who i once was, and rather who i am now?"

he knows he'll have time to give you proper reassurance, but he knows you just need a few words now. "i promise, with all i am, that i have fallen in love with you all over again. and that i am yours, body and soul."

with all the mystery that surrounds your boyfriends identity, you can't help but think about it as well. do you.. really know him? does he not trust you to know him? you aren't sure. maybe you aren't as special as you thought you had been, that phainon's sweet words of how much he loves you are.. false prayers.

but you have no reason to doubt him, he's never stayed out too late or hung around people that made you question his motives, he's a good man. and you're starting to think that you don't deserve him for doubting that.

the idea clouds your mind the whole day, and for aeon's sake.. you and him are having a date night at his place. he notices it quickly, how your mind just can't seem to focus. how you move away from his touches and hesitate with every kiss, was there something troubling you? was he troubling you? that's when he's had enough of the lack of communication, he turns off the tv, pulls the blankets down, and gives you a confused but also rather upset look. "honey, what's going on in that gorgeous head of yours?

he holds his hand out to you, but you move away, the cold shoulder has never been so sweet. "phai.." you hesitate to finish your sentence, but phainon waits.

he's been known for his patience, he always has been. he was a composed man, a gentleman, he could surely hold himself togethe—

"am.. am i really anything special to you?"

he feels his heart sink to his stomach.

there's an sting that he's never quite felt before, overwhelming his body greatly. he's sure he can hear his heartbeat, or perhaps lack thereof, it's as if his world has stopped at those words.

you've begun to tear up now. "i don't know i just.. the people have been telling me things— and i'm realizing now that i don't.. i don't really know anything about you and.. i.. i'd want to get to know you better, but i understand if you don't want to, and don't trust me but—"

seeing you cry makes him remember something distant, a life he once lived in a different world. making someone he also loved so dearly cry because of what he's done.

phainon crumbles, moving closer to you to wipe your tears. you two are face to face now, his lips only a breath away as he's reminded why he loves you so much.

you're you, so human, so selfless. how could he be blind to your struggle, when he claims to watch you so carefully? "oh, angel. i'm so.. so sorry. there are things i cannot tell you yet, but i can tell you that i could never let my heart be taken by anyone else."

feather light kisses press against your eyelids, and you shudder at the contact. "sweet, sweet angel. please don't cry. i promise i'll make it up to you one day."

© sqgeism or wtv (^_^;)

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

cw: menstruation (not graphic), afab anatomy

Part 4: “Girl Problems”

You shift in the office chair, stomach lurching uncomfortably. It’s been bothering you today - groaning and moaning nonstop. So far you blamed it on the suspicious chicken salad you got from the discount grocery store. You took every stomach soother you could, all the way down to chugging tea on the hottest day of spring so far.

With a rather pathetic groan you stand to meander your way to the bathroom. Surely sitting on the pot will help - at least as a placebo. Just as you do, though, a very distinct wet feeling makes itself known. You freeze, briefly, as if it will go away if you stand still enough.

“Ah, fuck!” You gasp, grabbing your purse and jogging down the hall to the single bath stall and popping the lock shut.

As soon as you sit, you let out a small sigh of relief. At least you caught it before you turned your underwear into a total crime scene. You’d rather not have to explain to John why you need to go home and change. You dig through your bag to your usual pocket of various supplies. From lotion to a sewing kit. It never hurts to be prepared.

Except, as you rifle around, you’re not finding your usual stash. There should be at least three in here… when did-?

The very loud, distinct memory of a girl at a bar stopping you while canvassing for some sanitary products hits you like a train.

“Whatever you’ve got I’ll take.” She practically begged. So, you handed them all over because got forbid someone get stranded during the most hellish week of the month. Like you are now.

You make a deep, frustrated noise in your throat and bury your face in your hands. You’ve been meaning to put a basket of backup wipes, pads, and tampons in the little bathroom cabinet - not just for you but for customers, too. It just kept getting pushed off when you got busy with other things.

Shit. What are you gonna do? If you put your pants back on you’ll just bleed through them in ten minutes. Cursed with a heavy flow (or blessed with a strong connection to the moon, as your former hippie roommate insisted.) Less time than that, probably, based on the vicious cramp that travels from your lower back to pelvis. You won’t be able to get to the corner store with out leaving a war crime in your path.

John’s the only person in the studio right now. He doesn’t have a client for another hour or so but you’d rather die than tell your hot boss you’re bleeding everywhere. For a few, quiet moments, you violently bounce your knee and go through every possibility. Maybe you’ll suddenly turn into the flash and you can get home before anyone even notices. You don’t really have much of a choice, do you?

With another groan you pull your phone from your pocket, thumb hovering over his contact for just a few beats too long while you work up the courage.

>> ok so this is terrible

>> im so sorry

>> but im having girl problems and am stuck in the bathroom

>> im so sorry this is so unprofessional

Girl problems? What are you? In fucking middle school? Before you can send yet another in a long string of planned apologies, John answers.

J >> How can I help?

>> i dont have any products on me

>> meant to stock the bathroom

>> sorry

J >> Stop apologizing

J >> What kind do you use? I’ll go to the corner store up the street

You breathe out a sigh of relief, still nervously gnawing at your lip as you send him what you need with an example picture (just in case) and profusely insist you’ll pay him back. John refuses. You’ll just have to sneak the cash in his tips or something.

It isn’t long before you hear the front doorbell ring, heavy footsteps, then a gentle tap on the bathroom door. “Y’alright, love?”

You perk up. “John, I’m so sorry-“

“Didn’t ask if you were sorry. Asked if you were alright.”

You snort. “Yeah…”

“I’m goin’ to unlock the door to slide these in. No lookin’ I swear.” John says. As if you were worried about that. You trust John. More than maybe any other man you’ve known (not that the bar is very high.) It’s nice of him to say, though. The door barely cracks open, just enough for him to toss the box to you across the floor and shut it immediately. You barely even see his arm. “That all you need?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” You murmur, bending awkwardly and snatching up the box. “I’m really sorry. I know it’s not really… appropriate.”

“Love, it’s normal. It happens. Just get y’self situated.” John taps the door once before you hear his footsteps drift down the hall toward the front.

You feel a bit skittish the rest of the day. You know it’s stupid. John’s a grown man and it’s a natural thing that happens and it’s fine. He said it’s fine. If it wasn’t fine you probably wouldn’t still look up to him the way that you do - the way that you have since you came here. The way everyone else seems to. Even so, you step around him a little wider than usual on your way out - keeping your head hung low and both hands tightly gripping your purse.

You chew your lip, shifting in place as he locks the front door. “Look, John, I-“

“If you apologize again I’m gonna fire you.” John mutters, pulling on the door to make sure it’s properly secured. There’s humor in it, though, the corners of his lips quirked up slightly.

You scoff, still not quite able to meet his eye.

“Sweetheart, look at me.” When you don’t move fast enough, apparently, he tilts your head up with a light touch. His eyes are so warm despite their icy blue shade. Sparkly in the setting sun. “Any man worth his breath wouldn’t give a shite. I’m sorry if that hasn’t been your experience, but really, it’s fine. I’ll help you out a thousand times over if y’need.”

“Okay…” You murmur, suddenly very distracted by the feeling of his fingers touching your chin, light as is it. You pull away and clear your throat, hoping he doesn’t notice the growing heat in your cheeks. “Well, uh, see you tomorrow, then.”

John nods, still smiling. “Sleep well, dove.”

When you come in the next day, you expect to get teased. A snide comment or a sideways look. You would have at any other job you’d worked - especially one with all men. All giggling and poking at you like a bear they know can’t bite back. No one says a thing outside of their usual greetings when you make your way to the front desk, though. Johnny pinches your hip like normal, Simon greets you with his new pun of the day, Kyle gives you a distracted wave over the hum of his practice gun. John doesn’t bat an eye when he says hello and checks in about the plan for the day.

You open the bottom drawer that you usually tuck your purse into, pausing before you set it inside. At the bottom, neatly tied together with a piece of twine, sits a king size chocolate bar and a pack of Midol.

If John notices the way you become extra smiley after that discovery, he doesn’t comment.

A/N: This was very self-indulgent but I’m having a bad time over here and need to be saved.