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ghostlyreader09 · 3 days ago

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The Crimson Threads: Part Two

aged up damain wayne x yn

hiii! i think i’ll keep with this series💛

The Batcave was still, as it always was. A hollow echo reverberated through the cavernous expanse, filled only by the low hum of monitors and the rhythmic tapping of fingers on keyboards. The glow of digital screens lit the faces of Gotham’s protectors, but the silence between them was thick, palpable—a tension that hung like a storm on the horizon. They had gathered here, in this dark sanctuary, trying to piece together the fragments of a puzzle that eluded them.

Damian stood apart, watching from the shadows, his presence more felt than seen. His arms were crossed tightly, his jaw clenched, every muscle in his body coiled with the same restless energy that had kept him on edge for weeks. He could feel their eyes on him, even if they said nothing. Alfred was the only one who didn’t seem to care for his silence, but even the older man’s usually comforting presence couldn’t soothe the knot that had settled in Damian’s chest.

“What do we know about her?” Bruce’s voice was low, measured, as it always was. The leader. The patriarch. But there was something different in his tone now. Concern. A subtle shift, barely perceptible, but unmistakable to those who had grown accustomed to reading his every mood.

“She’s elusive,” Tim Drake spoke up, his fingers gliding effortlessly across the keyboard, his eyes flicking between lines of code. “But that’s nothing new. Whoever she is, she knows how to stay hidden. She’s got a network of data wipes around her, almost like she’s actively erasing traces of herself.”

“Not just a criminal,” Damian muttered, his voice edged with frustration. He could hear the soft clicks of the Batcomputer as Tim continued his work. “She’s a ghost. A shadow that slips through the cracks.”

“I’ve encountered her,” Bruce said, his eyes dark with a hint of the same frustration Damian felt. “She has a strange ability to heal, yes. But we’ve only seen what she does from a distance. Her powers—there’s something more to them. I need to know what.”

“Her name is Sanguis,” Damian interjected, his voice tight as he took a step into the circle of light. “And she’s more than just a healer. I’ve seen it in her eyes—the way she takes from people. The way she absorbs their wounds. I don’t think she’s just fixing them. She’s using them.”

The room fell silent. The weight of his words hung in the air like a fog, thickening the already suffocating atmosphere of the Batcave.

“Wait,” Jason Todd, the ever-impulsive second son of the Bat, spoke up from across the room, his arms folded, leaning against the wall in that way he always did. “You’re telling me she takes on their pain? She absorbs it? That sounds like a ticking time bomb waiting to go off.”

Damian’s eyes flickered to Jason, a brief flash of something darker crossing his features. “It’s not a bomb. It’s… more controlled. Calculated. But the fact remains that she’s hiding something.”

“Could be the price of her ability,” Tim suggested, his voice soft as his fingers danced over the keys, searching for answers that didn’t seem to exist. “Not a lot of data, but there’s been mention of people she’s healed—victims of accidents or injuries. The reports are conflicting. Some say they just walked away, fully healed. But others… there are no records. No follow-up. No sign of them ever being seen again.”

“Or they’ve been taken,” Damian murmured, his thoughts racing. He could feel the puzzle pieces clicking together in his mind, but none of them fit. The weight of the mystery was pressing down on him, heavy and suffocating.

“And she never stays around long enough to talk,” Bruce said with a deep sigh. “She disappears before anyone can ask questions.”

There was a brief pause, a pregnant silence that seemed to stretch on forever. In the quiet, Damian felt a flicker of something—a memory, perhaps. Something that had been gnawing at him for weeks. He saw her face in his mind—her dark, unreadable eyes. The fleeting moment when her touch had pulled the pain from his body, the agonizing sensation of his wounds closing and her own taking their place.

She had healed him. He had felt the exchange—couldn’t deny it now. But what had it cost her?

“What if she’s not… evil?” he asked, his voice quieter than before, as if testing the words in the air. The shift in tone was subtle, but unmistakable. He had never voiced such a thought aloud. It was dangerous to even entertain it.

Bruce’s gaze flickered to him, sharp and calculating, as though the words themselves were a betrayal of everything they stood for. But instead of reprimanding him, he merely tilted his head, considering. “You’re suggesting she’s… what? A vigilante?”

“I don’t know,” Damian admitted, his voice low. “But she’s doing something more than what we’ve seen. She’s healing—yes. But there’s something about her… something beneath it. She’s not like us. But that doesn’t make her a villain.”

Tim, still absorbed in his search, sighed heavily. “I wish it were that simple. She’s not giving us much to go on. Whatever she’s doing, she’s keeping her identity locked down tight. Almost like she’s afraid of being discovered.”

“Afraid of being found,” Damian corrected, his gaze distant, as if seeing something none of the others could. “Not just discovered. She’s hiding something more than just a name.”

Alfred, who had remained silent through the exchange, stepped forward, his gaze steady, his expression unreadable. “Master Damian is correct in his assumption. But I believe there’s more to Miss Sanguis than mere fear or secrecy.”

“Then what is it, Alfred?” Jason asked, raising an eyebrow. “What’s her game?”

Alfred’s gaze flickered to the darkened corners of the cave, as if he were searching for something that wasn’t there. “Perhaps it’s not a game at all. Perhaps she is… something else. Something different.” He paused, his voice softening. “We are all bound by the cost of our choices. Some of us carry our burdens in ways that are visible to the world. And some, like her, bear them in silence.”

Damian’s thoughts stirred, the weight of those words settling in his chest like a stone. Was she truly carrying something heavier than any of them could understand? Was she paying a price for her healing that none of them could even fathom?

The room fell quiet again, each of them caught in their own contemplation. There were no answers yet. No clear path forward.

Finally, Bruce broke the silence. “We need more information. Keep an eye on her. Track her movements, Tim. And Damian,” he turned his gaze to his son, the unspoken weight of expectation between them, “I want you to stay focused. We don’t know if she’s a friend or foe. But we’ll find out.”

Damian nodded, but something in his chest tightened. His father’s orders had always been clear-cut, but this was different. This wasn’t just a mission. Not anymore. Something inside him, something fragile, something unspoken, had begun to change.

————

The next night, as the moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over Gotham, Damian found himself watching from the rooftops once again. His gaze swept over the streets, the alleys, the quiet places where shadows lived.

And there she was—Sanguis.

She moved through the streets like a wraith, her cloak trailing behind her, her every step graceful and unhurried. She didn’t see him, not yet, but he was watching—watching her as she healed, as she touched the broken bodies of those who had been torn apart by Gotham’s cruelty.

Her power was a strange and wondrous thing, and he could feel it even from a distance—the way she moved, the way she shifted the very essence of life within the bodies she touched. She wasn’t just a healer. No, that was too simple.

She was a keeper of souls, a silent guardian who traded her own strength to save others.

Damian’s fingers clenched at his sides. This city didn’t need another shadow in the night. But maybe, just maybe, it needed someone who could walk between the light and the darkness. And for the first time, he wondered if he was the one who had misunderstood her.

—————

The night wrapped itself tighter around Gotham as if the city itself were waiting for something. Damian perched silently atop a gargoyle overlooking a dim-lit alley, his eyes tracing the winding path below, where Sanguis had just appeared. The flicker of her silhouette was familiar by now, a shadow within shadows, and every time he saw her, the tension within him grew.

Tonight, he didn’t follow her immediately. He wanted to observe, to understand without moving, without the pressure of confrontation. For the first time, he wasn’t chasing her like prey, as he had done in the past. Instead, he was waiting for something—some crack in her armor that would reveal the truth. Her power was undeniable, and yet he couldn’t reconcile the idea of her as a threat, a mere villain in the shadows. No, there was something more to her.

She had to be more.

Damian leaned forward slightly, letting the cool breeze of Gotham wash over him, but his eyes never left her. The way she moved through the alley, that quiet grace, the fluidity of her steps—they didn’t belong in Gotham. They felt like they belonged to another time, another world, one where healing and pain weren’t bound by the same rules as the harsh city streets.

There’s something about her.

She stopped in front of an abandoned building, kneeling beside a man who lay prone, his face contorted in pain, blood staining the pavement. Damian could tell from here that the man had been injured in a violent attack—his body was broken, his breath labored.

But as always, Sanguis didn’t hesitate. She simply knelt beside him, her hands glowing faintly in the darkness. A soft hum seemed to vibrate in the air as her fingers moved over the man’s chest, his body slowly beginning to mend beneath her touch. She was absorbed in the work, oblivious to the world around her. The man’s breathing evened out as his injuries closed, his pulse stabilizing. It was like watching a miracle unfold, but as always, Damian’s sharp eyes saw the cost.

Her hands trembled slightly as the blood began to settle, as if it had taken something more than just the injury from the man. Her face, normally calm and unreadable, showed the faintest flicker of strain.

There it is again.

The odd sensation—the way she never seemed to just heal. She was taking something from the world around her. Absorbing it.

Damian could feel his pulse quicken. He wanted to rush down, confront her, demand answers, but he didn’t. Not yet. Something in him had changed over the past few weeks. This wasn’t the same cold pursuit, the same bitterness that had once fueled him. No, now he had questions—questions that were pushing him in directions he didn’t want to go.

As she finished with the man, standing slowly, she turned her face upward, as if sensing the eyes that were watching her. Her gaze swept over the rooftops, briefly settling on his position, but she didn’t react. No surprise. No fear.

She knows.

For the first time, Damian felt exposed. The battle wasn’t just about his identity anymore. It was about something much deeper, something tangled in the spaces between their secrets.

Her voice broke the silence, quiet, almost a whisper that was carried away by the wind. “You’re here again.”

Damian didn’t move. He stayed where he was, his gaze never leaving her. “You’re hard to track.”

“And you’re predictable,” she replied smoothly, the hint of a smirk in her voice. “Your shadows follow you too closely.”

He felt his lips tighten at her words, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “Why do you do it? Heal them. Take their wounds. What’s the point?”

Her eyes met his, dark as the night itself, but there was something new there—a flicker of something that Damian couldn’t quite place. Was it… pity? Or something softer? She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she turned her gaze back to the man at her feet, who was now stumbling away, looking dazed but unharmed.

“The point?” She repeated, almost as if the word were foreign to her. “You think I do this for a reason? Because I’m some kind of hero?”

“Are you?” Damian asked, his voice steady, but his mind was racing. He wanted to understand. Needed to.

Her lips parted, then pressed together as if the words were too sharp to speak. “I do it because I can. Because I have no other choice.”

There was a crack in her voice—barely perceptible, but there nonetheless. It unsettled him more than anything she had ever said.

“Choices…” Damian echoed, taking a step toward her. His feet moved of their own accord now, drawn to the vulnerability in her words, to the soft, aching truth that seemed to seep out when she least expected it. “What makes you think you don’t have one? You don’t have to—”

“I don’t have a choice,” she interrupted, her voice suddenly harsh. Her fists clenched by her sides as if her own words caused her physical pain. “This power—this curse, I can’t escape it. If I stop healing them, if I stop taking their injuries, I don’t know what will happen to me.”

Damian felt the breath catch in his chest. A curse?

The thought lingered between them like a thread, fragile and delicate, but no less real. Her face softened then, as if the anger had burned itself out, leaving only the exhaustion behind.

“I don’t do this for glory,” she continued, her voice quieter now, the weight of her words pressing down like a fog. “I do it because I have to. Because if I don’t, I don’t know who else will.”

Damian’s gaze softened. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the way the shadows seemed to part around her, revealing the raw, aching truth she had been trying so hard to hide. Maybe it was the way she stood there, alone in the heart of Gotham, carrying the weight of others’ pain as her own.

For a moment, they stood in silence, the world around them seeming to hold its breath.

Damian’s voice was barely more than a whisper when he spoke again. “That doesn’t make you weak. You know that, right?”

Her eyes flickered toward him, the barest trace of something—hope?—in them before she looked away again, her gaze fixed firmly on the pavement below.

“I’m not looking for anyone’s approval,” she said softly. “I’m just trying to survive.”

Damian didn’t know what to say to that. How could he? He had spent his life surrounded by people who fought because they had to—because Gotham had demanded it. But this was different. She wasn’t just fighting the city; she was fighting herself.

A faint memory crossed his mind then—the first time he had encountered pain that wasn’t his own. The first time he had been forced to watch someone else bleed for a cause that was beyond him. It had felt like a betrayal. A mistake.

But as he watched Sanguis, standing there in the moonlight, her power both a gift and a curse, he began to understand. She had never had a choice.

And for the first time, Damian didn’t know if he wanted to stop her—or if he wanted to help her.

————

Bruce, Tim, and Alfred were in their usual positions, scanning through data, as they always did. But Damian’s eyes were distant. He couldn’t stop thinking about her—about the weight of her words, the way she had felt when she stood in front of him, the way her power had pulsed against him, as if there was something more to it than just healing.

But he wasn’t about to say anything—not yet. He wasn’t sure what it meant, what he was feeling. All he knew was that he had to keep watching her.

Because there was still so much she wasn’t telling him. Something that he had to know.

thank you!!!! any recommendations or ideas for this story is greatly appreciated, and i do take requests! 💕💕💕

sanguis is latin for life-blood and might

#batman #dc x y/n #dc #dcu #dc universe #damian wayne #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #duke thomas #x yn #damian wayne x reader

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mcrcki · 3 days ago

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"you know that's not what i fucking mean, xaden, don't fucking start with that--" they were only feeding off each other, and despite violet knowing that, she cannot stop herself from following him down this path, letting his anger fuel her own. "you're changing physically because of whatever the fuck you've done! i can fucking watch you become someone different! every time you tap into that fucking power, you're changing!" she felt like she was going to break down, every other word from him had her reeling, watching him become more and more unrecognizable.. this couldn't continue on, she had wasted so much fucking time without her memories, had spent so long just what? flirting with him and going on fucking dates with dain? she had doomed him with her inactions, her inability to find a cure. only putting herself in danger more so he felt like he needed to do more and more to protect her? "you think i wasn't tired of the maybe's?! of the fucking uncertainty that was going to come with you going down this road, with there being no fucking wards, no one else here that knows what the fuck a venin is! but if my two options were you dying or you becoming this, that doesn't put me in a fair position and you know it. i couldn't choose between those two, and you cannot expect me to make that choice." though, now, he had made that choice, leaving her with no other option right? if he was going to keep falling, not giving her any time to find a cure.. could she let him just walk away knowing how much of a danger he could become? he was already the most powerful rider in their generation, what would be become as a venin? "i can handle myself! you know i can! i don't need you to keep fucking draining because you're afraid of me being hurt! why can't you help me without falling further down this path, xaden? why does it have to be this way!" he had helped her so many times, had kept her safe so many different ways already, why did it have to be different now? why was the only option complete indifference or draining! "those people were complacent in torturing me and my friends, they would have killed you. someone just trying to deck you because you're being a dick is different! killing using those powers is different! how do you not see that every time you use them is making you fall deeper into this! that every time you drain, you get closer and closer to becoming one of them! how can you expect me to just sit back and watch you destroy yourself!" it was so hard to look at him, to see xaden underneath all of this. he was just right there, right within arms reach and gods all she wanted was her xaden back. to never have to deal with this venin bullshit ever again. but every day she was in danger, and considering her track record and luck that was nearly every day, he would continue to fall, until he was completely unrecognizable. before her and her friends were in danger because they stood in his way. wasn't it her responsibility to stop this? he became this because of her, she had to be the one to stop this. "you can't promise that. my power is basically the only thing that can fucking kill you, you remember that, right? you really think you won't see that as a threat if you let yourself go any further!" they were going in circles, this wasn't going to get them anywhere, not when he was clearly dodging her questions again, waiting for her to 'ask the right one', she's so sure. she wanted to fucking scream, needing a straight answer out of him for once. "tell me their name xaden. what is the name of the person you just killed?" because of all the people they knew... what were the chances that it was one of her friends? that rhi or dain or mira said something that set him off.. did he know anyone else that would send him over the edge that wouldn't have broken him? because touching imogen or liam would be too much, this wouldn't even be a conversation.. but dain? mira? her heartbeat only grew louder in her ears waiting for the answer, knowing it'll devastate her regardless.

"being physically different doesn't mean shit, are you really that fucking shallow, violet? i look a little different, that means i'm going to start attacking and killing the people i've given up fucking everything to protect? you act like i did this for a fucking laugh, everything i've done has been to keep you all safe!" he's sure he's given up more than she knows. he's very aware of the fact that his father is watching from wherever he is, cursing his name and disowning his only son. there's no family for him when he does meet malek, she'll be the only one by his side, and yet somehow he's the bad guy here. "we've been existing on a maybe for months! i'm not going to apologize for being sick and tired of balancing on the edge of whatever the fuck is going to happen when i finally let go! i'm sick and tired of this shit, violet! i wanted to end it all and you wouldn't let that happen, i wanted to embrace it and now that's a problem too!" he couldn't keep standing in between two different shitty endings, something had to give eventually. and at least this way, he could keep her safe. "really, because it seems like you're just expecting me to ignore the fact that you're in danger because it might make me get worse! we don't even know if that's the reality of it and you're acting like i shouldn't try to help you because of a guess!" he can't help but shake his head, frustrations leaking into every word he speaks, frustrations he'd never imagined being aimed at violet of all people, and yet here they are. "how was it different? i killed dozens of people that day, violet, none of who actually started the fight, but i kill one that attacked me and you're up in arms? that's not fair, you can't change your standards now because you don't like the method." but the more she lectures him, the more he doesn't see how they can possibly come to an agreement on this. she'll never see him as anything but a monster now, will she? as much as she claims not to, as much as she claims she wants to save him and keep him by her side, he's always going to be a monster to her now. "you would never be just a fucking power source, violence. and i think liam would respect that i made a choice to keep him alive, and that i'm still me after all of this!" and would that be partially because he was their leader? because liam felt loyalty to him? maybe so, but he's sure liam still would have accepted the choice after a bit of a debate. the same way he'd accepted every other sacrifice xaden had made for the marked children to keep them alive and safe. "i knew who it was." he replies, already knowing that elaborating any further will doom him, damn him in her eyes as something mad and irredeemable, if he isn't already. and maybe that's the problem. she knows too much, knows him too well, thinks she can read him like a book and know that something is wrong, rather than accepting that she's reading into something that isn't there. "it's not your responsibility, violence. i made my choices, they're my responsibility."

#tragcdysewn #vi. interactions #violet || xaden riorson #death mention tw #murder mention tw #suicide mention tw #violence mention tw

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froggomcdoo · 5 months ago

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you ever read a work of fiction so good that you immediately need to find more and consume it but it doesn't have any more and there will likely be no more so you just suffer and think what if.

#theres no fanfic of it. its not a fandom #it was one 150000 word original fiction fic on ao3 #i read it all in one sitting and i can't stop thinking about it #its not that i found the leads attractive or fuckable and thats why i kept reading #(the leads weren't like WHOA HEY levels of attraction but more like a id tap level)#((they were def fuckable tho thats not what made them interesting))#the way they interacted. with eachother. with their family. with the world around them #htere was so much lore. what about hte demon world tell me more about the classifications of demons and how it affects their lifestyle #tell me more about how a demon who had before this when needing to see would just create more eyes and needing to eat would just #create more mouths interacts with a body that cannot have more than what it was given. tell me more.#why was jade so effective? who was two really? who hired those assassins? are shades normally powerful or is he an exception?#did she ever learn to ride? did he figure out how to balance? do their children inherit his constitution? do they inherit hers? what happen #when she starts to age? does he try to do anything to stop it? does his body rotting around him limit his time or is it something else?#does the doctor get the herbs from hell? does the butler ever find out he didn't know she knew until the last min?#the sex is good. obviously. but what was cuddling like? is carrying a 1/3 demon baby full term different from a standard human baby?#did he choose velvet for his wedding suit because it felt like his regular skin or because of something else? tell me. tell me. tell me.#if i were to get isekaied i hope to fuck it wouldnt be here bc my ass would be dead but also im feeling so intensly curious #if truck kun came knocking i would ahve a notebook in hand full of questions to be answered #the romance was good ig but the world was better #is this what sqq felt lmao #rants and rambles

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ereborne · 7 months ago

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Song of the Day: May 10

"The Ghosts of Beverly Drive” by Death Cab for Cutie

#song of the day #lovely rain today and exactly the right amount of cool and windy to get the smell of it in my room #spent my morning performing excel magic tricks for a /very/ appreciative audience I must say #one of my coworkers is very much in demand for help with identifying poorly-labeled fields in our oldest query structures #she's been around for a million billion years and can glance at a column and effortlessly expand its useless acronym title #I tapped her for a question and she was answering me on what I did not realize was an open zoom call in the conference room by her office #and then when she finished answering me she asked me for help with an excel formula in exchange #and I helped her (an easy fix. she is /not/ good at logic structures. always goes for OR when she needs AND and vice versa)#and then I was teasing her and said how she didn't have to hold onto her questions until she had something to barter with #that I like fixing things and I'll help for free #and then her laptop was physically wrenched around by another coworker farther down the table #(not as disorienting as actually being grabbed by the head and bodily turned but even over zoom it was still an Experience)#and the accosting coworker asked if that went for everybody. could anyone ask me for excel formula fixing help. please /please/#and I was like yes? can't guarantee I can do anything but sure? how much help could you need?#y'all I gotta say. like battling an enthusiastic and especially unthreatening hydra. chibi excel hydra.#it was incredibly satisfying after so many days of intense frustration to have problems I could so easily solve and for such grateful folks #and some of their formulas were pretty fun to set up. always love the little glimpses of behind-the-scenes in special exceptions #any time you put in conditional formatting for if a single specific person's ID is in the 'comment entered by' cell #there's a story there #anyway I heard so many people say 'I don't know why' this morning and then it was such a perfect cool gray day #I've been humming Ghosts of Beverly Drive all evening #'I don't know why I don't know why / I return to the scenes of these crimes #where the hedgerows slowly wind / through the ghosts of Beverly Drive'

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alexiroflife · 5 months ago

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"babysitting"

fluff, crack

Synopsis: that time you were babysitting your niece when sukuna came home...

to sum it up: sukuna is such a dad but doesn't know it yet

WC: 1,218

Warning(s): none

“What the fuck is that?”

You look up to see Sukuna standing in the doorway, a twisted snarl on his face as he glares harshly at the object within your grasp. You raise your brows, momentarily surprised by his arrival, and give him a soft smile.

“Hi, Kuna,” you greet happily, ignoring his question. “I didn’t know you were gonna be back so soon.”

“Answer my question, woman,” he growls, looking almost disgusted by the sight before him. “What is that?”

He points one of his burly arms to you, and you look down at the cooing seven-month-old in your embrace, bouncing up on your knee as you sit on the floor just before Sukuna’s large bed. The baby gargles, hand stuffed into her mouth as drool dribbles down her fist, a thoughtless smile rising onto her small lips.

“She’s my niece,” you tell him, smoothing your thumb lovingly over the baby’s shirt, inspiring a small giggle and a senseless babble. You smile. “Isn’t she so cute?”

“It’s vile,” Sukuna grimaces and you frown. “Why is that beast in my temple?”

“Sukuna, be nice,” you roll your eyes. “She’s just a baby, and my sister needed some help looking after her for a few hours.”

“And you felt prompted to bring it here?” he scrunches his nose.

“Her, and where else would I be?”

“As long as you’re carrying that creature, you must be anywhere else but here,” he grumbles, turning dismissively to leave the room. “I want it gone.”

“What?!” you exclaim, moving to stand with the baby resting on your hip. You walk over to your boyfriend, touching your soft hand to his large back to keep him from leaving. Sukuna peers over his shoulder angrily, four eyes squinting down at the two of you. “Come on, Sukuna! At least admit how adorable she is. Look at this precious little face.”

You squish gently at the baby’s cheeks and her fist falls from her mouth, big round eyes scrunching as a giddy beam rises to her rosy cheeks. All Sukuna can see, however, is the slobber shining over her chin and on her hand. “I do not understand what you are requesting of me,” he says coldly, eying the child as though she carries the plague. “Is it incapable of keeping its saliva inside of its mouth?”

“She’s teething,” you say flatly.

“What?”

“Her teeth are coming in soon, it stimulates drooling.”

Sukuna’s face of disgust grows more exaggerated, leaning his head back with curled lips. “Like an animal?”

Your face drops as you stare at him boredly. “Yes, Sukuna. Like an animal. All humans did it at one point.”

“Do you mean to inform me that you engaged in such a disgusting act when you were in this stage of life?”

“...Yes?”

He clicks his tongue, now eying you with an air of suspicion. “Good to know,” he says rather judgmentally.

The thought crosses your mind to point at that your boyfriend was at some point a human too, but you decide against it.

“Sukuna,” you groan. “Aside from the drool, she’s such a precious little thing. You have to agree, right?” you coo. You look down at the baby to grin childishly at her, tucking your finger under her chin and tapping her slightly, hardly tickling at her body but arising a few more giggles nonetheless. You babble meaningless sounds, speaking to her in a playful voice that Sukuna has never heard from you before.

Though still thoroughly confounded as to why you want him to take interest in this little animal, his eyes catch the way you soften for the child, how your eyes light and a sense of maternity takes you as you speak to the baby as though you know just what to say, drawing out toothless grins and thrilled gibberish. His brow twitches involuntarily, something within him almost enjoying the sight before him. You’re so good with this creature. Have you always been like this?

“What language are you speaking with it?” he suddenly asks gruffly, causing you to pause and look up at him as your niece reaches her small hands up to your cheek.

“With her,” you correct again. “And I’m not speaking any language, I’m just playing around,” you chuckle slightly. Sukuna stares harshly now, examining the movements of the half developed human in your arms as she curiously taps against your face.

Suddenly catching wind of his presence, the baby’s head turns to him and her eyes grow bigger. She cries out excitedly, reaching her arms out to Sukuna with grasping tiny fingers. Sukuna falters, confused.

“What is she doing?” he asks urgently, and you laugh.

“She wants you to hold her,” you say softly.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Kuna,” you pout. “Please? Just for two seconds.”

“I said no, you brat.”

“Pleaseeeee? Pretty pretty please, my king?”

You give him the biggest puppy dog eyes you can muster, and when he looks between the two of you, your expressions almost match. Sukuna feels something in his resolve crumble, incapable of truly denying you though he tries his best to still appear as though you give him a hard time.

With an agitated sigh, he reaches his upper set of arms to grab the child as you lift her up and hand her to him. “Two seconds,” he growls and your eyes sparkle with anticipation.

He holds the baby up before him, watching as her little feet dangle and kick around in her onesie as he grasps her from under her arms. His hands practically consume her entire frame, her fingers still reaching out to him curiously, joyfully.

The king of curses continues to glare, brow cocked while he tries to decide what is so special about it. Perhaps he can understand what you find to be “cute.” The baby’s got big chubby cheeks and huge doe eyes that almost remind him of you, and she’s so comically tiny it makes him want to laugh.

He grunts softly as he pulls the baby in closer, complying with her unspoken request displayed by her constant reaching. She touches her little slobber-less hand on his forehead, touching softly at the plate structure on the right side of his face. Sukuna imagined himself to be a bit more perturbed by the contact, but finds himself unbothered, allowing the child to trace his features with innocent exploration.

You watch with your hands to your mouth, hiding your bright smile. The sight before you is just so adorable, you wish you could take a picture but you know that Sukuna would be quick to crush your phone in an instant if he caught you.

Sukuna finally pulls the child away, watching her grin happily. He hands her back to you and crosses his arms. “What is her purpose?” he questions, and you give him a strange look, adjusting the baby back on your hip as she plays with your hair.

“She has no purpose. She’s a baby.”

“She is too young to work? To serve?”

“Wh- yes?!”

“Very well,” he nods. “She may stay for another hour.”

“...But my sister isn’t free for another two hours.”

“Two hours, and if she isn’t gone by then, tell her in her native tongue that I will be eating her fingers for dinner.”

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gghostwriter · 5 months ago

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You’re the Risk, I’ll Take it

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary: The three times Spencer followed advice and the one time he didn't (or as I'd like to better explain it, the three times Spencer fails to flirt and the one time it worked)

Warning: fluff! Just fluff!

A/n: I wanted to write something cute this time with Season 1 Spencer in mind--one of the best eras if you ask me. Hopefully I did him justice in this. The idea of this cute baby boy trying to flirt is too precious honestly. Also, if a guy did the last act for me, I'd fold like a lawn chair, yep. Risk by Gracie Abrams was on repeat while I was writing this and no proof reading was done. Let me know what you think!

Main masterlist

The first move Spencer tried was advised by Derek Morgan, the renowned ladies man

“Kid, admit it. You like her,” Morgan pestered him with a slight smile on his face.

Spencer scoffed, trying to throw him off from the truth but monumentally failing. “S-she’s my closest friend. We joined the team at the same time, of course I feel most comfortable with her,” he noted his companion’s eyebrows raising higher and higher with each word. “Plus, she likes hearing what I say even if it has no relation to the case. She asks me questions and genuinely remembers.”

Now it was Morgan’s turn to scoff. “You could be talking about Star Trek and it’s physics mistakes and she’ll still hang on to every word you say.”

“Actually, there aren’t that many scientific errors in Star Trek. Especially considering—”

“Reid.”

“Right,” he nodded once, trying to push away the urge to continue further. “That still doesn’t mean I like her.”

Morgan tapped the wheel twice before turning to face his partner. “Then answer me this. How do you feel when she walks through the office doors?”

“Happy, I get the same feeling when I see you or Elle come in too,” he found his fingers very interesting then. Like they held the key to unlocking the mysteries of Dark Matter and the answer to the controversial scientific theory ‘Do parallel universe exist?’. He wasn’t telling the whole truth—didn’t want to because how could he, a man of science, explain the other bodily reactions he has when you walk in a room. How he hears his heart stutter in his chest with just a glimpse of you—the first time it happened, he thought nothing of it, but by the third, he considered making an appointment with a specialist for possible heart arrhythmia. How he sees the room brighten when you smile in his direction—perhaps light sensitivity, and how he feels his body heat up when you utter the words ‘Good morning, Spence.’—possibly hot flashes. Self diagnosis that he ruled out once he found you to be the common denominator. That left him with a riddle, a personal conundrum he lost countless of sleep over trying to solve.

“That’s a lie, Reid. You can’t be that happy to see me. You never blush like a tomato when I enter the room. For Greenaway, I could see it but for me, nu-uh,” he argued back. “Okay, what about when she’s not there, what do you feel then?”

“Sad, similar to how I’d react with you and Elle,” he blurted out another half truth. Another surface level answer that doesn’t fully cover how lost he feels without your comforting presence beside him, how gloomy any room he enters in without you in it, and how incomplete his days were without hearing your voice.

Morgan snickered. “Lies, you have to learn how to lie better to fool an FBI profiler, Reid. You don’t think I—the team, notice that you’re quieter when she isn’t on the case with us?”

“Wait. Wait, the whole team?” His voice goes up an octave. You were part of the team, did that mean you knew of the effect you had on him too? “D-Does everyone have the same idea as you do? Everyone?”

“Not everyone, kid. Your secret is still safe,” He smiled wide like a cat that caught the canary. “So it’s true then, you like her.”

Spencer knew there was no escape from trap, he was just glad that his secret still remained classified from the other party involved. His shoulders sagged as he nodded to confirm Morgan’s findings.

“So what’s your play then?”

His head whipped to face his companion so fast he felt his meticulously styled hair escape the confines of his ears. “Play? There’s no play. Nothing. I’m not going to do anything and this conversation stays between us.”

“Oh c’mon lover boy, you have to do something,” Morgan challenged. “Y’know she likes you back, right?”

“No she doesn’t! I mean, why would she?” Spencer rambled on, unable to comprehend what Morgan was saying. “She’s her—beautiful, smart, and cool. Every case we get, there’s at least one police officer hitting on her. And I’m me—I talk too much and get awkward in every situation. The exact opposite!”

“Reid, don’t sell yourself short. She likes you, trust me on this.” He paused, listening to the update on the intercom before continuing on. “So here’s what you’re going to do. Compliment her outfit, girls appreciate that. Easy enough, don’t you think?”

Spencer really didn’t think so after all he had the tendency to go off on a tangent whenever he talks to you but he agrees nonetheless. If Morgan believes he could do it then he couldn’t mess it up, right?

———

Wrong. It was wrong to take Morgan’s advice. Never mind he can recall everything he has ever read, never mind he has an IQ of 187. What good were his talents if he, Dr. Spencer Reid, couldn’t string the proper sentences along?

It started when you walked into the office wearing this light yellow blouse that made you more radiant than he thought possible. It was as if the a ray of sun had graced the bullpen and stunned his mind into silence, rendering him tongue-tied. All his monologues and hypothesis bouncing around his overactive brain fell away and the only thing he could think of was how pretty you look.

Morgan cleared his throat, bringing him back to the living. Spencer averted his awestruck gaze and busied himself with an imaginary lint on his red sweater.

“Hey Y/N, did anything good this weekend?” Morgan asked as you settled into your desk adjacent to his.

You shrugged nonchalantly and teased back. “I bet it wasn’t good as yours, Morgan. Picked anyone up last Friday or are your charms no longer working?”

“Huh, i see where this is going. Somebody woke up on the wrong side of bed today.”

Morgan chanced a peek at Spencer and internally groaned. How you didn’t notice the kid’s crush on you was beyond him—all the staring and blushing he does when you’re near was a dead giveaway.

“Reid. Reid,” Morgan called out.

He closed his mouth and gulped. “Hm, what?”

Morgan pointedly stared at him and titled his head towards your direction. A movement lost to you as you noted Elle leaving Gideon’s office.

Spencer opened his mouth to catch your attention but before he could even utter your name, Elle intervened. “Question for you, the foot path killer. Why’d he stutter?”

You swiveled to face her, not having caught Spencer’s intent to speak to you. The unit chief then called them in for a case—an arson case in a university campus. His shoulders drooped as they rushed to the jet afterwards with no chance of small talk.

When there was a lull in the plane—case discussion finished, he steeled his already apprehensive nerves and took the chance, quickly wishing he hadn’t.

“S-so, your shirt’s yellow,” he stated out loud like it was some sort of revelation.

“Yes,” you drawled out, unsure as to where he was going with this. “That’s right, Spencer.”

He drummed his fingers on the table and continued on. “Did you know that airplanes tend to avoid the color yellow as it causes dizziness and nausea? A number of studies have shown those exact results and that’s why it’s almost never used in interiors of various forms of transportation and rarely use in advertising. It’s like how the red is the most common color used by restaurants as it psychologically makes the viewer hungry.”

You looked down on your top. Yellow was one of your favorites and you specifically chose this as Penelope said and you quote, it looks good on you, brings out your eyes. Boy genius would probably react to it too so naively you splurged on it. But this—this wasn’t the response you were hoping for. “Spence, are you saying my shirt is making you feel nauseous?”

He blushed and stammered out a strong refusal. “What, no! No! I—I meant to say—you, you look nice.”

You giggled under your breath, finding his long-winded route to giving you a compliment cute. “Nice nice or airsickness nice?”

“Nice! Just nice!” He defended on, his voice cracking at the end. He caught Morgan’s wide eyed gaze then as if he couldn’t believe what train wreck he just witnessed.

Cheeks heating up further, Spencer slouched in his seat and busied himself with the files wishing that he could build a memory eraser so he could wipe the events from his and the team’s minds or better yet, a time machine to redo the whole thing all over again.

The second move Spencer tried was advised by Elle Greenaway, the new recruit

“Do you think it’s weird that I knew that ballad?” He questioned during one of their cases in San Diego. It bothered him since the start of the case. How Morgan had teased him about his incapability of asking out the opposite sex. Never mind that you defended him right back, that’s a lie, it made him feel special that you did but the joke was still true. A cold stone truth.

Elle laughed, flipping her phone repeatedly on the table while waiting for the unsub to take the bait. “I don’t know how you know half the stuff you know, but I’m glad you do.”

“Do you think that’s why I can’t get a date?” He asked as he fiddled with the unfinished Rubik’s cube in his hands.

“Have you ever asked her out?”

There was no need to ask who Elle was referring to, everyone knew of his innocent—well maybe not so innocent at times specifically during his state of dreaming—crush for the second youngest member of the team. He shifted his eyes to focus a few tables before his—at you, sitting beside JJ. “No."

“That’s why you can’t get a date.”

One of the precincts phone then rang, it was the unsub, causing him to table that conversation in his vast memory.

———

There’s an English saying that states ‘the second time is the charm’ and Spencer was hoping there were some truth to the idiom even with no scientific explanation to back it up.

A few cases after San Diego, he got an opening that he was unexpectedly looking for. The team was on their way back from a case in Virginia. It was late and the profilers were all tucked in their little corners of the jet decompressing while you and Spencer were huddled on the sofa quietly discussing Doctor Who.

“How could you say your favorite is the Ninth Doctor when you haven’t even seen the older episodes?” He rambled, clearly he would have to do something about your limited knowledge in the great universe of Doctor Who. He’d like to explain it all, 695 episodes of the classic era to you. He’d take any topic really just to have your interest.

You stared into his hazel speckled eyes and smiled, amused by his reaction. “It’s a bit hard to catch up on a show that’s been around since the 70s. Plus, it’s a challenge to look for copies.”

“Actually, the show started in the 60s—1963, to be exact,” he clarified. “Garcia has copies we could borrow and watch together. If that’s—” he cleared his throat and clenched his fists closed, feeling his nails dig into his palms. “—that’s alright with you. If—if not, there’s a convention happening this weekend. I have an extra ticket, if you want to come with—only if you’re not busy, I mean.”

“And risk you spoiling every episode to me? I’d rather watch it alone, if you don’t mind.”

That dragged his optimism to a crash as if a twenty ton weight landed on his chest, rendering him immovable. Of course you were going to say no. There was no proof that you’d reciprocate his interests—he inwardly cursed himself for believing otherwise.

“But, I’d like to go with you to the convention,” you said and silently added as your date to yourself, shifting in your seat with a blush blooming on your cheeks at the thought. “Always wanted to go to one. If you’re fine with me not being in a costume. I think it’ll be too late to find one, don’t you think?”

Just like that, the weight on his chest lifted, making him feel weightless with glee. A wide smile grew on his face, threatening to burst his cheeks as he shook his head. “That’s alright! But you—you can always dress up as Rose!”

You titled your head to the side. “Rose?”

“You know, the Ninth Doctor’s companion?”

“I know who she is, Spence. I just thought you didn’t watch the revived series?”

He softly scoffed. “I never said that! I watched it too, mainly to compare it to the classics but I’ve seen it.”

You leaned in, wanting to ask about his opinion on it. “Well, what do you think? I happen to be part of the minority who think the actor who reprised the role did alright.”

He liked seeing you like this. It made him feel like a puppy who had his owner’s undivided attention. All wide eyed and interested in his conjectures as to why the actor was alright himself but the problems were his short stint—making people vilify him over that decision—and the material some of the writers came up with. He appreciated you nodding along and supplying your own thoughts on the subject. It warmed his heart that here was a beautiful, smart, and cool person—way out of his league, he might add—giving her precious time away to discuss a nerdy sci-fi show that he could not rant and rave to about to anyone on the team, except for Penelope, and she’s rarely on the field with them.

Your show of interest made him feel seen. Not as an agent with 3 PHDs, not as a genius with 187 IQ, but rather as a person with a right to express himself and occupy space. He wasn’t Agent Spencer Reid with you nor Dr. Spencer Reid, he was just Spencer who likes to watch Doctor Who and read literature in their original language.

The third move Spencer did was proposed by Penelope Garcia, the spirited tech analyst

“What do you mean you took her to a convention? For a date?” Penelope squeaked out, unable to comprehend the logic behind the genius’ actions.

“She said she always wanted to go,” Spencer stated as the elevator stopped on the fourth floor. He had fun over the weekend. Going around booths with you, listening to invited guest panels talk about the behind the scenes, explaining the reference every costume that you’ve pointed out, and just basking in your presence beyond cases. It was a memory he had replayed over and over after it had ended. It occupied his whole mind, and that’s saying a lot, causing him to do nothing and sit in his leather sofa and smile like a lunatic during the rest of the weekend.

“Well yeah, but that’s not date material! A date is supposed to be intimate—you and I go to conventions together, do you count that as a date?”

“What? No! No, of course not!”

“Exactly, boy wonder. Then what makes you think she’ll count that as a date?” She countered back as she entered her office with Spencer in tow.

Silence. Oh.

Penelope sighed, having read the despair painting his face. “Did you at least dress up as the Ninth Doctor?”

“What? No. No, I went as the Fourth Doctor. I even hand-knitted the scarf myself.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before repeating what she just heard. “You didn’t dress up as her Doctor?”

“No,” he paused, unsure where she was going with this. “Should I had?”

“Yes! Yes, you should have!” Penelope slapped his arm out of frustration. “Why didn’t you call me once she said yes? We could have talked game plan or strategy or at least have gotten you a leather jacket to match her choice of companion.”

“Oh, I messed up then, didn’t I?” He slumped despondently on the office chair. “You—you don’t think she thought of it as a date at all?”

She played with her feathered pen, trying to find a way to salvage it for Spencer. “Did you take her out to dinner after?”

He shook his head, finally realizing his mistake.

“Oh Spencer,” she approached gently. “I can scoop for details with Y/N later on and report back to you?”

He shook his head. It didn’t feel right to have Penelope betray your trust and go behind your back over a mistake that he made. You were a honest person and you deserved to be treated with respect and reverence even though all he wanted now was peer into your viewpoint of the date—not date—and figure out once and for all if you saw him as anything beyond a co-worker and a friend.

“Hm, I think I might just a solution,” Penelope blurted out of the blue.

He looked up with a sliver of hope blooming in his chest. Maybe third time’s the charm. Besides, Penelope was the colleague you spent most of your time out with. You once mentioned that you considered her your best friend, besides from him of course.

“You can bake her a batch of cookies! No one can say no to that,” she excitedly explained, believing it to be full proof—except for the fact that he doesn’t know how to bake. He wants to ask you out on a date but not to the expense of burning his whole apartment building down.

“I can’t—I can’t bake, Garcia,” he squeaked out. “Did you know that 44% of all reported home fires are caused by cooking and baking. Those fires have resulted in an average of 470 civilian deaths and 4,150 civilian—”

She interrupted. “I’ll give you my recipe and detailed instructions to follow. That’ll make it easy peasy for you, boy genius.”

“C-can’t I just buy from her favorite bakery instead?”

“No can do, Doctor. Her favorite cookies just so happen to be my creation. She told me so herself.”

“Well, can’t I just ask you to make it for me? I’ll buy the ingredients!”

“Nope,” she dragged out her refusal. “Think of it as an act of service to her. Plus don’t you think it’s highly romantic when she finds out that you baked them yourself?” She swooned just thinking about it.

“Romantic? It won’t be romantic when I burn my apartment down, Garcia.”

She sighed. “Fine, I’ll supervise if you want. This weekend, granted if we’re free. But you—” she pointed her feathered pen at him. “—better be prepared and I’m just supervising, okay? I’m not baking it myself.”

He sighed. At least having Garcia around would make it easier.

———-

It did not in fact make it easier. Spencer burnt two batches before six pieces were considered edible. Garcia couldn’t understand, hell, he also couldn’t. Baking was precise and from his scientific viewpoint, it was a lot like chemistry. He loved science and anything academic, so how is it that he failed miserably, twice, when it came to baking?

He shook his head as he entered the office. The first one—he stole a glance at Hotch’s office and saw movement—correction, the second one arriving early. Sometimes he wondered if the unit chief ever goes home, first in and last out.

He settled in his seat before promptly fidgeting from anticipation. Statistically speaking, you arrive earlier than Morgan or Elle which gave him enough time to gift the paper bag of cookies sitting hidden in his satchel without bringing attention to and embarrassing himself. He’d like to have little to no audience if he ever does mess it up for the third time.

He brought out the cookies, afraid they’ll get crushed between his hardbound books, and placed them on your desk before standing to wash his clammy hands and make coffee. Counter intuitive of him to do as he was already a bundle of nerves and by drinking caffeine he was doubling that but maybe the smell would calm him before shooting up his energy by drinking.

As he exited the mens room, Penelope stepped out of the elevator and squealed. “Is she here? Is she? Did I miss it?”

He shook his head vigorously, trying to silence her excited glees. “No, she’s not here yet. She’ll—” he looked at his watch and ran the numbers. “—be here soon. I’m about to brew coffee. Do you want some?” He opened the door for both of them to enter the bullpen.

“Ick, no thanks,” Penelope said, scrunching her nose at the thought of drinking even a sip before scurrying away to her cave. “I’d rather not ruin my taste buds on bad coffee.”

He laughed and turned towards the kitchenette. With the coffee brewing, he drummed his fingers on the counter and mentally rehearsed what he would say to you. If he practiced, there’s less chance of messing it up like the first time, right? In his state of concentration, he missed you entering the office in all of your beautiful glory.

“Ooh cookies!” you exclaimed as you opened the unknown package on your table.

Spencer abruptly turned, hitting his side on the corners as he did. His eyes widened as he registered you holding the unsigned paper bag of treats on your desk.

“They must be from Penny,” You continued on, oblivious to his presence and the devastation your remark caused him. Of course, he’d find another way to mess it up. You glanced around and your smile widened as you took in his handsome presence. “Oh hey Spence! Look, Penny made me cookies!” You tip-toed out of excitement.

He smiled at your enthusiasm for something as simple as treats in the morning. The giggle you gave out as you entered the kitchenette was enough for him to slightly care less for the truth. He loved bringing out the happiness in you. It was like his own personal sunshine shining down on him, soaking him with vitamin D and boosting his overall sense of wellbeing. “Do you want coffee with that? It’s still hot,” he offered.

You tapped the side of your hips with his as a sign of good will. “Thanks, Spence! This is turning out to be a great day, don’t you think?”

He watched as you busied yourself with putting cream and sugar in your of cup and sighed wistfully. “I think so too.”

And the last move Spencer did was recommended by no one but himself, the awkward 187 genius

With all three acts not delivering, he promised to try one last time without any outside interference besides from yours in his memory. You always did tell him to be himself in any situation, no matter how much he stumbled through any awkward situation—always there giving him a pat on the back for encouragement.

Over the weekend, he spent his time reading two of your favorite books—which didn’t take much but he did read them again and again, regardless of his eidetic memory, trying to understand why these specific books were your comfort. Always pushed within the confines of your go bag, dog-eared and brown from age. He wanted to know how they’ve become an extension of you and how it had shaped you to the woman he has fallen in love with.

He found himself hunched over his dining table, underlining sentences that made him think of you, scribbling away on the margins (and sometimes on post its too), and tabbing the written pages with a variety of colors that each represent an emotion. The act in it of itself made him feel closer to you than he thought possible. Lines in the books that made him think, ah so this was what formed your kind spirit. This is why your empathy knew no bounds. And this is why your beauty is inside and out.

Spencer laid down to rest, anxious for the next day, Monday, to come. His heart threatening to beat out of his chest but his mind oddly calm as if it had a precognition that everything would turn out just right.

———

You arrived earlier than he did, throwing him off balance.

“Hey Spence!” You greeted with a smile. “I got you a croissant and some coffee from that shop near my place.”

He blushed and stammered out a thank you. You were wearing a deep purple blouse that matched the scarf around his neck—the birthday gift you’ve given. He was no believer of the mystics but he took all of these as a sign from the stars. There was no way he would mess this up now.

“I—I got you something too,” he looked inside his satchel, hands shaking from it all. Gods, he wished this would go well or else, he might just die from embarrassment. “It’s nothing much but—I read your two favorite books and just—I wanted to discuss it with you,” he brought out the tabbed copies and presented them to you. “These are for you. I know you have copies of your own but I-I put my own notes on which lines reminded me of you.”

Your face turned red at the notion behind it all. Here was the BAU genius, the certified lover of the classics and the academia, the man who had your affections since day one, reading two contemporary literatures just for him to present you a gift like no other. You reached out and hugged the precious copies to your chest.

“Thank you, no one’s ever done this for me before,” you breathed out, falling deeper into attraction with the perfection in front of you. “ Hey Spence, I may sound delusional asking this and you can say no if you want to but—” you visibly gulped, unaware of the audience nearby. “—would you like to have dinner with me? I make a mean lasagna.”

He turned red and vigorously nodded. “Y-Yes. Yes, I’d love to have dinner with you.”

You giggled, sounding like wind chimes to his ears. He did too, giggle I mean, from the triumph of finally knowing that his feelings were willingly reciprocated.

“Finally, you love birds!” Morgan shouted as he swung his arm around Spencer. “Didn’t know how much we could take from this pretty boy—” pointing at him “asking for advice and you—” pointing at you “—pretty girl is as dense as a rock. Tell me again how’d you end up as profiler with those observation skills.”

A hand whacked him at the back. “Way to ruin the moment, Morgan.” Elle chided before turning to Spencer with a smile. “See told you, you could get a date.”

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #gw fics

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corkinavoid · 3 months ago

Text

DPxDC When You Are Suddenly Dating a Princess (pt. 2)

[<- part 1]

"What do you mean-" Jason starts, but the girl is already tapping her ear briefly - and only now does he notice a tiny comm there. Fuck, he should have known.

"Oscar? I changed my mind, I want to claim something," Jazz says easily, and, after a short pause, "A Tecpatl, the one with the owl. No, it's for personal reasons- You don't have to, but alright." She taps her ear again, and Jason can't help but ask:

"Who's Oscar?" He is not jealous. He is just insanely curious and very confused.

"My bodyguard," Jazz rolls her eyes, "At least he thinks he is. I'd say he is more of a secretary."

That doesn't really explain anything. It actually just adds even more questions - what kind of a magic user needs a bodyguard? or a secretary, for that matter? - but Jason keeps them to himself for now. He is... kind of intrigued now. Jazz said 'claim', not 'buy'. Which might be just a weird word choice, but somehow, Jason thinks it was deliberate.

A bald, black-skinned guy in a black suit and sunglasses - which, seriously, how does he even see a thing in here with those on - makes his way through the crowd and stops in front of Jazz, nodding slightly to her.

"Lady Phantom, I understand you want to make an impression, but using your status for personal matters-"

"Did I ask for your opinion, Oscar?" Jazz's voice doesn't change. It's still pleasant and sweet, and she is still smiling, if just a bit, but there's an unmistakable steel edge to her tone now. Jason feels a light shiver run down his spine. He's seen Jazz in a lot of different situations and circumstances; he's seen her get mad at a librarian who banned some controversial books in the public library, and he's seen her skillfully take down an armed robbery in a shop all by herself, and he's even seen her successfully stare down Killer Croc on one occasion.

Yet, he's never seen her like this, with her chin raised up high and radiating authority like she is the most powerful person in the room.

Also, Lady Phantom?..

"No," Oscar admits after a pause and presses his lips together, "But the Council of Ancients will not be pleased."

"Council of Ancients couldn't care less even if I declared war," Jazz brushes the comment off, and Jason's levels of confusion are growing higher and higher with every word they exchange. Oscar sighs and finally complies:

"Very well, then," he breathes out with a sense of surrender, and then turns his head to Jason just slightly, "Is this an urgent matter, or should I go talk to the auctioneer and the sellers?"

Jazz looks to Jason, raising her eyebrows in question. And, technically, it's not that much of a time crunch now since Jason doesn't have to try and sneak through the security or wait for the auction to start officially. But he feels a bit petty. Also, this man was questioning his girlfriend, which is offensive on many levels in Jason's opinion.

So, he nods, "Urgent."

Oscar's face doesn't change one bit, but Jason has plenty of experience with emotionally inept men who look like they are eternally constipated. He can see the traces of exasperation in Oscar's shoulders.

"Follow me, then," he tells them both, and turns around, headed to the back of the auction rooms. There's security there, but Oscar only shows them some kind of a badge, and they step aside, letting the three of them through. As far as Jason knows, no FBI or CIA agents should have that kind of clearance.

Which finally prompts him to ask the most important question as soon as the doors behind them close and it's only them three going through an empty hallway.

"Who are you?" He asks Jazz, who is still keeping her hand on his elbow. The girl hums, not looking at him, and keeps walking after Oscar.

"Jasmine Fenton," she answers, and, yes, he knows that much. He's seen the files Bruce has on her, but at this point, he is not even sure how much of the info in there was actually true.

"You are in the presence of Jasmine Fenton, Lady of the House Phantom, Princess of Infinite Realms and sister to a King," Oscar supplies, and his voice is... a bit petty. Like he knows Jazz didn't want him to say anything, but he still did just because he could.

Jazz huffs and rolls her eyes, "Yes, that, too."

Jason blinks.

He's heard about Infinite Realms. Mostly rumors through the grapevine of Leaguers, but also from Diana personally - he remembers her saying she is glad about having a truce with them. He didn't listen much since she explained it as the Underworld, the Land of the Dead, so he thought she was talking about some mythology shit. Turns out it wasn't.

But there's a more important thing.

"I'm dating a princess," he says to no one in particular as they come to a stop in front of one of the doors.

"Technically, you'll be treated as my consort if you ever decide to visit," Jazz admits, and Jason is officially out of surprised responses. There's only a limited amount of bafflement he can feel in a day, and he has exhausted the resources.

He is a royal consort of the Underworld princess. Sure, why not.

The room they step into after Oscar puts in some code into the lock is filled with boxes, packages, and crates. Jason looks around - sure, he knew all the prettily displayed artifacts back in the auction room were only replicas, but he didn't expect the originals to be literally just stacked in piles in the back room. Yet, here they are.

Oscar looks around the room and confidently makes his way to one of the shelves on the side, quickly going through the labels on the containers.

"Do you have, like, a crown?" Jason asks because he sucks at small talk. Also because he doesn't know what else he is supposed to ask in this kind of situation. Jazz snorts and leans to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Not really. Danny has one, and it looks absolutely badass, with flames on top of it, like the ones you would see in cartoons. I have some tiaras and stuff, but they are just jewelry," she explains, and Jason nods sagely. Just jewelry, alright. Seems like he is simply destined to be surrounded by rich people from all sides.

"How about a castle?"

This gets a sigh out of Jazz, "We used Pariah's - that's the previous King - old one for the coronation ceremony, but mostly, it's just for storage. Both Danny and I live on Earth, and Dani, our little sister, travels a lot. So, I do, and I don't at the same time."

"What about-" Jason starts, but he is cut off by Oscar all but shoving a small box in his hands, "Oh. Do I-" he turns to his girlfriend awkwardly, "Do I have to pay you for it or..."

"No, it's from a dead civilization," she raises her head back and shakes it slightly, but after seeing Jason's frown, she elaborates, "I'm the Princess of the Dead. I can officially claim anything that belongs to the dead as mine."

"It's a law that is supposed to resolve any possible conflicts between the denizens of Infinite Realms and the living," Oscar supplies, his voice disapproving. Alright, makes sense why he said it was not for personal matters, then. Not that it's going to stop Jason, though.

"Like, anything?" He punctuates, and Jazz tilts her head, a sly smile on her lips.

"Sure."

"Lady Phantom," Oscar sighs, tired and chastising, but Jason doesn't plan on robbing the auction. At least not robbing it any more than they already did.

He has a different idea.

"Can you ask Batman for the Robin's suit he has in his cave?"

Jazz blinks, and then her smile turns into a full-on grin.

"Of course."

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@akuworld777

#danny phantom #dc x dp #dpxdc #anger management #jason todd #jasmine fenton #ghost princess jazz #cork writes #cork prompts #ficlet #good!giw #this was all written because i kept listening to Balance:Unlimited soundtrack

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sturniqlo · 3 months ago

Text

Forgive Me- C.S

summary: chris cannot go to sleep without apologizing to his girlfriend blurb

cw: not tooo angsty?

an: chris saying he can't go to sleep until he apologizes to nick or matt did something to me

masterlist | join my taglist

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Seven hours, it had been seven hours since both Y/n and Chris have spoken a word to each other. Their argument was at around three and it was now ten. Y/n was getting ready for bed in their shared bathroom while Chris was still in the living room doing who knows what.

Y/n did her last step to her skincare routine and massaged her moisturizer on her face. Then, the detangled her hair and headed for bed. She sighed as she turned off the light and got under the covers. She was missing something- someone.

This was one of their first actual arguments. Yeah, they've had little fights here and there but never like this. She had stormed out, needing some time to herself. She couldn't do it here, not when he was in the house as her. So, she stayed in her car until she was ready to go back in. Now, they're in this position, they've been ignoring each other all afternoon.

For lunch, which Y/n usually makes for both of them, Chris postmated some food and Y/n made herself some lunch. They ate thier meals in different rooms, Chris stayed in the kitchen while Y/n went to the living room. When Chris would enter the living room, Y/m would get up and go to the bathroom, so did Chris when Y/n entered a room he was in.

Y/n turned off her bedside lamp and the room went completely dark. She tossed and turned, until she eventually fell asleep.

It must've been about two hours or more until Chris started to yawn. He contemplated whether or not to sleep in the living room, but he eventually decided he'd sleep in thier room with Y/n. He got ready for bed, changing his clothes and brushing his teeth. When he opened the bedroom door, the light from the hallway lightly lit up the room and he saw Y/n sound asleep facing away from his side of the bed.

He quietly closed the door and got under the covers next to Y/n. He put his phone on his nightstand and tried to go to sleep. However, he couldn't. He laid there with his eyes open staring at the door, the ceiling or when he turned over he started at Y/n's back side. I have to apologize. He thought. "Baby." He propped himself up on one elbow and tapped her shoulder with his free arm. No response. "Babe." He shook her lightly and she moved. "Mm?" She hummed sleepily.

"Are you sleeping?" He asked. What a dumb question. "No shit." Y/n responded, she hated when her sleep got interrupted. Chris let out a breathy laugh. "Can we talk?" He mumbled. "About what?" She finally turned around to face him although she could only see his silhouette. "Our argument from earlier today." He said. "How about in the morning, I'm really tired." She tried to turn back around but he lightly grabbed her shoulder.

"No, now. I- I can't sleep. I have to apologize." Chris spoke softly. "Fine." She finally agreed and turned around to turn her lamp on. Chris finally saw her face. Her eyes were adjusting to the bright light and her hair was slightly on her face. She looked cute. "I'm really sorry about my behavior earlier today. It just that Nick and Matt weren't answering me for our meeting tomorrow and our work and our schedules are all over the place." He bagan. "And- I got easily pressed over something so stupid. I'm sorry, babe. Do you forgive me?" He touched her cheek.

"I do. Everyone has their bad days, you know? I just- I wish you would've told me about what you were going through, maybe I could've helped you or something." She smiled softly. "I- I will next time and all the times after that, okay?" He made a promise and Chris never broke his promises. "Okay."

"Now come here, I wanna cuddle you all night." Y/n giggled at his eagerness so she turned the lamp off and scooted over to Chris.

"I will never try to go to sleep mad at you, it's torture."

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jarofstyles · 3 months ago

Text

Pressing Questions

We love new husbandrrry >:)

I hope you enjoy them and let me know your thoughts!

Check out our Patreon for early access and 190+ exclusive writings

WC- 4.4k

Warnings- exhibitionism, slight breeding kink, completely cute n flirty babies, husband x wife kink???

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“Hey, husband?”

“Yes, Wife?” It sounded so good coming from their lips. It made her borderline giddy as she looked over at him to find him already looking over at her. The flush she felt in her cheeks bled down to her chest. They were finally fucking married.

“What made you decide you were marrying me?” Y/N asked as she lounged next to him. Their honeymoon in full swing, Harry had rented out a cabana with a daybed so he could cuddle up to her on the beach and Y/N was positive now that it was definitely one of many things he had up his sleeve. The aesthetic had been perfect to her Pinterest board, but she had a feeling Harry knew that.

Roses in the room, champagne upon arrival, brand new swimwear just for her… she had been absolutely spoiled since they landed. Just like he promised.

The warm air flowed over their forms, her head resting on her bent arm as the other held the fruity cocktail she had drunk an embarrassing amount of in the last three days. Some kind of coconut and lime thing that had her feeling more giggly than she could remember being in most of her adult life, but she was safe here. Safe with Harry, just like she had been dreaming of.

Harry chuckled and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to his chest. He traced a lazy circular pattern on her bare hip with his fingertips as he spoke, his voice low and deep. Slightly hushed, keeping it intimate. Just the way she liked it. It was like he was fine tuned to appear to each and every thing she found attractive- or somehow managed to make everything he did appeal to her. Either way, she felt her tummy flutter.

"Darling, is this a trick question? Do you really think I only have one reason to marry you?” Her husband acted like it was a ridiculous question but pressed a kiss to her forehead, giving her an answer regardless. "You’re beyond beautiful, the funniest person I’ve ever met, smart as a tack... and you put up with all my ridiculous bullshit. All of those cliche reasons and more. Not t’mention you dealing with my insane schedule and giving me your honest opinions whenever I ask, even if they’re a little sassy.” Giving her a look, he got the laugh he wanted out of her before tilting his head in question. “Why wouldn’t I marry you?”

“I dunno, I just feel like…. I mean, I know I’m a catch.” She smirked, giving him a wink that she immediately regretted. At least she could be cringey with him and he would find it endearing. Her winks were not nearly as cute as his were. “But was there a singular moment that you knew you were going to keep me?” His touch always did make her melt.

Harry, ever the touchy and slightly clingy boyfriend- nay, husband-, couldn’t keep his hands off of her before they got married but… compared to this trip? Y/N was genuinely unsure there was a single moment without him with his touch somewhere on her body. It had been a little shocking at first but every single moment made her feel more addicted to the fingertips pressing into her, arms pulling her into his body or the lips ghosting her skin. The real problem would be when they got home and she couldn’t just have this on tap.

Harry let out a deep breath, shifting to roll onto his side and propping his head up with his hand as he took in her beauty. The sun was giving her skin a warm, golden glimmer, and it took all his willpower not to pounce on her at that very moment and take her right there in the cabana.

"You want one singular moment, huh?" He hummed, pretending to think about it as his fingertips continued their slow path tracing her body. "There was this one time..."

Her breathing caught in her throat as his fingers took a lazy trail over her body. Harry had this way about him that had made her a little nervous with how attentive his gaze was, but even so… she loved that feeling. Like he was always clinging onto her last word. Even as her husband, he seemed to use this power to his advantage.

“Mmm?” She asked, tossing back the final bit of her drink before fiddling with the cute little paper umbrella. “What time?”

His lips curled up into a small, smug smirk as he watched her react to his touch. He loved the power he had over her, the way his fingers seemed to make her breathless and her eyes got a little hazy. The way her body subconsciously arched into his touch.

Harry moved his hand from her hip, slowly tracing it up her side and over her ribcage, his touch so light that it almost tickled. "It was very early on," he said, his voice low and husky. "We were at my place, just hanging out. You were wearing this… little fucking tank top." The way he said it made her know that he was thinking about that tank top to this day. Flattering, even if she couldn’t place the moment he was talking about.

She had to wrack her brain for a moment, trying to remember which day it was that he was referring to. The beginning days had been slightly hazy considering their romance had gone from tentative flirtation to a whirlwind as soon as the sexual dam had broken.

“Which tank top?”

Harry's smile grew wider as he saw her trying to remember. It was something he could never forget. "It was that little pink one, with the sexy little bit of lace at the neckline. Lacy straps, too," he said, his voice taking on a slightly dreamy tone as the memory played in his head. "It was so teeny tiny that I could see your bra through it..." Moving closer to her, his hand moved lower on her body, tracing over the soft, sensitive skin of her stomach. He knew exactly how he was affecting her. It was considered a bit of payback for said tank top.

"And those shorts you had on... so short that I could see your hips and legs… and the bottom of your bum when you moved the right way? Mm, I think you’ve always been so cruel with teasing me, baby.” The man obviously loved it though. There was no hiding that from her.

Despite it being a private beach, Y/N felt the flutter of both fear and anticipation as he flirted with her so blatantly. Recalling a time she could definitely remember now, a movie night at his place where she had worn a matching pajama set that wasn’t outright sexy but… definitely was known to show off her body.

“Ohhhh. That one.” She grinned. “Seeing me in that made you know you were gonna marry me? Perv.”

“Hey now, I just appreciate beauty when I see it.” Harry countered with a laugh, acting slightly affronted as if his hand wasn’t now resting just over the waistband of her bikini. “So sue me for thinking y’looked incredible.”

Moving even closer to her, his body pressed against hers as his lips brushed against her ear. His voice was sultry as he spoke, a little kiss pressed right underneath it. “And I distinctly remember you wearing that little outfit just to drive me absolutely wild, you little minx. You can’t even deny it now. I know how that pretty head of yours works.”

Y/N snickered at the call out, knowing he was very much correct. She had done it to test him, to see how much he was willing to put up with back in the day, what would make him tick. He may call it teasing, but she called it an experiment for scientific research.

“You are such a flirt today.” She took a moment to put the glass down before facing him again, carding her fingers through his wavy hair. The sea air did something to it that made her even more attracted to him, something she hadn’t realized possible until she had seen it herself. “But keep the memories coming.” Aka the compliments. She felt loved up and was very much in the mood to hear more. “What else did you think?”

Harry's eyes darkened slightly as her fingers ran through his hair. He loved it when she touched him like that, it sent shivers down his spine, making him want to lean into her like an eager pup awaiting pets.

"Other things that cemented it?" He murmured, his hand on her hip giving her a gentle squeeze. “There’s loads. Mm… I’d have t’say, the way you'd get all flustered when I teased you. The way you'd get all sarcastic and bratty when I annoyed you. How you were so confident and fiery, but at the same time so shy and sweet..." he trailed off, knowing he could go on for hours and hours when it came to what he loved about her. It was hard to get him to shut up about it, actually.

“So you like when I’m bratty. That’s what I’m hearing.” She giggled, teasing him slightly despite him scolding her for it prior. “I think my moment was when you set up that whole thing on Valentine’s Day. Cause god knows you’ve got all the money in the world but you knew I hate fancy restaurants so you did like… the whole blanket fort thing. With the charcuterie board and champagne.” The dreamy sigh left her lips. It had stuck with her every day since. He may not even realize how important it had been for her, but Harry was the first person she’d dated who had ever made her feel that special.

“You listened to me when I said what I liked. You got my favorite movie lined up and made me sweet and salty popcorn like I like. You even remembered you popped the wrong one and told me to wait and… I dunno.” She shrugged with her shy smile lighting up her face. “I knew I’d never find anyone else like you.”

Harry's gaze softened as she spoke, warmth spreading through his chest as she described his absolute favorite Valentine's Day. He hadn't known at the time it had been such a pivotal moment for her, but now it made perfect sense. His wife was sentimental that way. Something personal meant way more than the clothes he had bought her, or the house he’d got for them. His thoughts were everything to her.

He gave her a tender look, shaking his head, fingers tracing a gentle path along her arm. It was impossible to keep his touch from her, and he didn’t feel like trying. "You mean when I accidentally burned the salted popcorn?" He winced at the memory. It was a weird thing he always thought about, but in his defense the smell had been pretty bad. Thankfully he had air freshener on hand, though apple cinnamon didn’t exactly mask burnt popcorn.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I was so focused on making sure everything was just right for you that I didn't pay enough attention to the microwave. Plus, your pretty face was distracting enough. Could barely form a proper sentence.”

The warmth flooded her tummy at the compliment, making her want to kiss him even more. It was held off considering she knew it would most definitely be something that got carried away, but that didn’t stop the urges. “I’ll be honest, I probably would have eaten the burnt popcorn. The fact that you’d even managed to remember those little facts about me had me like… giddy. I hadn’t felt that way about a crush since I was a teenager.” The admission came easily. There was no shame in how much she loved Harry, even if she did tease him to say he was the clingy one.

Another question popped into her head, and considering he seemed happy to talk now that he’d had his beachside nap, she took advantage of it. “Were you nervous to propose?”

Harry's hand moved back and rested on her hip, his fingers rubbing over the soft skin as he answered immediately.

"Nervous? Oh, absolutely. Fucking terrified, my love. Even though I knew you'd say yes, I was still nervous as hell." He let out a sweet hum, softly, leaning in closer to her, his lips almost touching her ear as he spoke. "The most nerve-wracking part was the time between when I proposed and when you actually said yes. It felt like the longest minute of my life..."

“You knew I’d say yes. C’mon, H.” Y/N’s giddy grin made it past her lips. It was weirdly satisfying to know he had been nervous because it meant he had been worried about the prospect of not being with her forever. It had always been her plan to say yes, but still.

Harry chuckled again, his chest rumbling beneath her head "Yes, darling, I did know that." His hand slid under her chin, gently lifting her head to meet his gaze. How much he loved her was visible in his eyes. She’d never experienced visibly seeing love before him.

"But that didn't stop me from being nervous. I was just so… desperate for you to say yes, to be mine forever. The thought of even a moment of hesitation..."

He shuddered slightly and his grip on her tightened ever so slightly "It would've killed me."

“Oh, baby.” She cooed, deciding to baby him a little bit. Hearing that vulnerability really did something to her, tangling her fingers into the hair at his nape. “I’ve been yours since you first kissed me. Y’know that?” Y/N had been completely smitten. It was borderline concerning until she had realized he felt the same. “I had the biggest crush on you when we first met. You only continue to get better and better every day.”

Tossing her leg over her hip, she relaxed into his hold as she gazed over his pretty face. He’d let his stubble grow out a bit, albeit a bit patchy- the look suited him. “You’ve been my husband in my head for a long time. I don’t think I could have ever said no.”

Harry's heart skipped a beat as she spoke. He had always loved it when she got like this, all soft and gentle and sweet on him. It was hard not to be greedy for this sort of affection. The feeling of her tangling her fingers in his hair combined with the press of her body against his had a shiver running down his spine.

"S’That so?" He purred, his voice making her squirm. "Because you’ve been mine since the moment I saw you, darling. You were the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen in my life, and I knew I had to have you. You belong with me, you always have."

The slight possessive speak made her throat thicken, tummy warm, between her thighs throb a little bit. The tenderness in which he spoke had her melting and it had nothing to do with the beachy heat. This was exactly why she knew she had made the perfect choice with him. Her body knew it was him before her head even did. Her heart? Even before that. “Yeah? I’m yours?” She cooed, brushing her nose against his.

Harry groaned softly as she brushed her nose against his, his eyes falling half-lidded. "Mmm, yeah. You are. You're mine. All mine."

His voice was a low rumble, his grip on her tightening as he spoke. "No one else will ever touch you, darling. You belong to me. I won't ever share you, no part of you is for anyone else but me."

Y/N let out a breathy gasp as his hand skipped over her ass, under the bikini bottom’s to hold bare skin. The flesh was squeezed, heat spreading between her legs as the little grab only managed to make it worse. She couldn’t control it even if she tried.

“H! There are people around.” She squealed nervously, but didn’t move his hand. The people were far away, the beach not too crowded, but she had to say it. It wasn’t unlike him to grab a feel, but he had no intentions of moving his hand. The man had been insatiable since their wedding night with no sign of stopping.

Harry gave her a sly simper as his hand squeezed her ass again, kneading lightly. He knew they were technically in public, and he didn't care in the slightest. It was more exciting this way, he loved the danger of being caught, the thrill of almost being seen… he was on his honeymoon with his wife. Nothing else mattered.

"I don't care, darling. They can't see us over here... Besides, we're on our honeymoon. We can do whatever we want." Licking his lower lip as he pulled her closer to him, his voice dropping to a low murmur.

"And right now, I want you."

“Baby…” Y/N’s voice went all syrupy and whimpery as his tongue ran over her jaw, teeth stopping to nibble at her skin. “You’re gonna get me wet. And I’m still a little sore from last night…”

Her face flushed at the memory of him pounding into her, desperate proclamations of love being panted into the air as he fucked her over and over. That had been intense and her poor body hadn’t fully recovered, but it couldn’t help but react to him. She wasn’t saying no though because… she didn’t want to. A glutton for punishment, maybe, but she craved him. Body, mind and soul.

Harry's breath hitched as she whimpered, the sound going straight to his already thickening cock. The thought of getting her all riled up here, of making her feel good while hidden away did little but work him up further. Y/N had a master key to his body and just the tiniest noise, movement of word could have him undone at any moment.

“H…” she whined, feeling his hand slip between them. Finding her already wet, she could feel him groan into her neck as he pressed kisses over her throat. “H- fuck.”

Her pants did nothing to deter him. The slick sound of his fingers rubbing through her slit before finding her swollen clit was the loudest thing she could hear, over the music in the distance and the crashing waves. “God.. you’re so bad.” And it felt so good.

Her husband’s lips curled up in a lazy grin as his fingers slid effortlessly through the wetness of her cunt. He could hear her gasping quietly with every touch, and he knew she was desperately trying to keep it together. It was his job to undo her. "You love it when I'm bad, darling." He taunted, nipping at her neck. With a voice low and needy he continued whispering in her ear. "See.. I think you love it when I'm naughty. Think that you want me to touch you, to slip my fingers over your needy cunt and make you feel good. Y’want that, don’t you baby?”

Her eyes fluttered shut as she leaned her head back, letting his mouth mark up her throat. It felt too good to stop him, and her body was aching for it. This was what a honeymoon was for. Wasn’t it?

“Uh-huh.” She nodded. There was no use protesting when this was what she wanted anyway. “Just be gentle, please.”

Harry hummed in agreement, his fingers still gently teasing her as he continued to mark up her throat.

"Don't worry, baby, I'll be gentle. I'll take care of you, just like I always do." His free hand came up to cup her cheek, guiding her face up to look him in the eyes.

"Just relax, my sweet girl, and let me make you feel good."

Her shaky breathing was only made worse as he made her look him in the eye as he pleasured her. The slick movement of his fingertips where she was swollen from his constant licking and rubbing and sucking had her head swimming, sensitive from the use she had been experiencing- but god, did she love it.

She knew he was feeling even more worked up now that she was his wife officially, and he was letting her feel that. “You always make me feel s-so good.”

Harry's groan caught in his throat as he watched her, her eyes half-lidded and hazy with pleasure. He fucking loved seeing her like this, all flushed and breathless because of him. His fingers toyed with her still, slow and gentle as he tried to make himself wait. "Good, because I love making you feel good… S’my favorite thing."

He pressed a few kisses to her cheek, his nose skimming over her skin as he moved to whisper into her ear. It sent shivers over her body, hard to keep herself from losing it as he touched her, practiced and knowing exactly where to taunt.

"You're so damn perfect, darling. My perfect, pretty little wife, letting me do filthy things to you. Love you so much."

Her hips rocked in time with his fingers, eyes closing for a moment as he kissed her neck again before whispering in her ear. When he gripped her chin again, he made her watch his face as he slowly sunk a finger into her. It wasn’t difficult given how soaking wet her poor pussy was, but she still felt the stretch. It was hard not to when they were that thick.

A high pitched whine was cut off as she bit her lip, face contorting slightly as she felt him begin to move it. “It’s not f-fair, how easily you can… you can make me feel crazy.”

Harry hummed as he watched her face twist with pleasure, his finger still lazily pumping in and out of her. Feeling the walls clench around him and slick up his finger, he couldn’t get enough of her. "Mmm, I know, darling. I know everything that drives you insane. I know all your sensitive spots, where you like to be touched, how you like it when I talk dirty to you..."

Leaning in and biting down gently on her earlobe, his voice a deep murmur in her ear. "And I love that I'm the only one who knows those things."

“Mhm, the only one. You’re the only one.” She agreed vehemently. The pleasure was smooth and slow, building up as the slick sound of his finger being inside of her made it even more hot. “And you’re the only one who’s gonna put a baby in me too.”

Y/N knew just how crazy that sort of talk made him, discovered it not too long ago, and she was aware she was playing with fire. She knew that, and yet she continued.

Harry let out a deep, loud groan at her words, the sound almost feral. If anyone was nearby it would give them away, but he frankly didn’t give a fuck. He loved it when she talked like that, so shameless and filthy. Meeting him where he was at. It was no secret that he had been on a mission this trip, but Y/N knew what she did to him when she brought it up. His free hand dug into her cheek, gripping her tightly as his finger curved inside her, pressing into the slick, spongy walls.

"Yeah? You want me t’get you pregnant, little darling?" His breath came out in huffed pants as his control started to slip a little. A button being pushed, almost all the way down. “Want me t’knock you up? Think we should try again… If you want that.” The memory of him pulling his cock out to watch the creamy mix slip out of her cunt before pushing back in to keep some plugged up into her the night prior came rushing back.

That was exactly what he was craving.

“Yeah, I want to… I want you to do it on this trip. Please? Wanna make you a daddy.” She keened, knowing they had little time at the beach left. He was going to lose control soon, and that had been her quickly executed plan.

Harry's control completely snapped at her words. He let out a low, guttural moan, his grip on her cheek firm as he laid a deep kiss on her mouth, licking into it and feeling her desperate kiss returned before he pulled back with a grunt and wet lips. She was ethereal, even in filthy situations like this. With beachy hair and bleary eyes, swollen mouth and the golden glow of the setting sun on her skin. Every day, every moment served as a reminder as to why he was so lucky to have her.

“God, you drive me fucking insane, darling. Y’know exactly what to say to get me all worked up, huh?" It was clear he couldn’t take it anymore. Y/N had hit her intended target, and he couldn’t be out here any longer because he would definitely get caught with a public indecency charge. Fingering was one thing, but the things he wanted to do to her? They needed privacy.

He withdrew his finger, his voice a gruff whisper as he spoke into her ear. "Get up. Now.”

A cry of loss left her swollen lips as he stood up, not caring at all about the bulge in his pants. He grabbed the beach bag, tossing it over his arm and surprised her as he tossed her over his shoulder too.

“Harry!” She squealed. “H- oh my god. You caveman!” He walked towards the villa with her tossed over his shoulder, like she weighed nothing. Like the blatant show of strength wouldn’t make her even more aroused.

Her husband chuckled at her protest, his hand coming down across her ass to give her a sharp smack. "Hush, wife. I said I'd take care of you, and that's exactly what I'm doing."

#jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles au #harry styles fanfics #harry styles one shots #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles imagines #harry styles fluff

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iamnotoriginalphil · 1 month ago

Text

Lessons in Ownership (Professor!Agatha Harkness x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Agatha gives you a night to yourself, only it turns out letting you off the leash brings up some issues for her.

Warnings: alcohol consumption, student/teacher relationship, power imbalance, unhealthy relationship, age gap (all 18+), possessiveness, jealousy, self-esteem issues, dom!Agatha, sub!Reader, smut, choking, swearing. marking, fingering (R receiving)

Words: 8k

AN: A sequel to my other Professor!Agatha fic which you can find here, although it's not necessary to read that one to understand this one.

Agatha’s fingers slowly traced over your skin, the same pattern over and over again. The same pattern she always traced into your body. Six letters. Over and over again.

You hummed, shifting closer to her. She stilled, finger tapping on your spine until you stilled again. Turning your head, you looked up at her. She was leaning against the headboard of the bed, gloriously naked, the morning sun lighting up her pale skin. You pressed a soft kiss to her hip. The way she looked down at you was molten.

“Morning, kitten,” she said, fingers tracing over your skin once again.

“Morning,” you said, pressing closer.

“You talk in your sleep, you know that?” she said.

“Oh no,” you mumbled, pressing your face into the skin of her hip, hiding from her, “did I say anything embarrassing?”

“Depends what you mean by embarrassing,” she replied, not really answering your question.

“Agatha,” you whined, muffled against her.

She chuckled, fingers tangling in your hair until she was pulling you away from your hiding place.

“You say my name a lot,” she replied when you looked up at her, “sometimes you moan it like the filthy girl I know you are.”

Your cheeks heated, which you were sure was exactly what she wanted. She lent down, magnanimous as she kissed you. After weeks of this you still hadn’t grown tired of it, of her, of all of it. If anything, you had grown greedier, wanting to be with her all the time. You barely seemed to leave her sight these days.

That was how you liked it.

You pushed up onto your knees, climbing into her lap, wrapping yourself around her. Her chuckle was lost in the kiss, dominating it the way she always did. Her fingers tightened, right over the bruises she’d already left, her handprints a permanent mark on your body now.

“You are my needy little thing this morning aren’t you,” she hummed when she drew back.

You nodded, leaning forward to kiss her again. She shook her head, hands holding you back. You pouted and she smirked up at you.

“Unfortunately for you, I decided to let you sleep in after wearing you out last night,” she said, holding you in place, “so you need to get that sweet ass of yours into the shower.”

“You’re not joining me?” you asked, still pouting.

“As long as you’re good and don’t distract me, I will,” she said.

You scrambled off her lap, holding out a hand for her. She rose and your lips parted, eyes sliding over her body. You would never grow tired of seeing her like that.

“Pet,” she warned.

“Sorry, sorry.”

Under the spray of the shower, her hands ran over your body, soap suds making her movements smooth. You let her, trying to stay still and not squirm. When her thumb ran over one nippled then the other, you inhaled sharply. Blue eyes snapped up to yours, hands still until she was sure you weren’t going to make trouble for her. You froze. She did it again, testing the waters. Your back arched but you didn’t do more, wanting to please her, always wanting to please her.

She turned you, her front pressing to your back as her tongue ran over your shoulder, catching the water droplets on your skin. You whined, low in the back of your throat as her fingers began to roll your nipples, soft lips on your skin, teeth nipping.

“Be good for me, pet,” she murmured into your skin.

You held still, leaning back against her body. When her fingers dipped between your legs, your teeth sunk down into your lower lip, trying to keep quiet. You weren’t about to risk doing anything that would stop her.

Your breathing grew heavy as pleasure licked at your skin. Her teeth sunk in where your neck met your shoulder, painful and sharp. You made a small noise, your hips jumping forward as your concentration broke. Her tongue licked over your skin before she drew back, hands sliding from your body.

“Agatha,” you whimpered.

“Finish up, pet,” she said, stepping out of the shower, “we have to leave.”

The throbbing between your legs was left unsatisfied. You cursed under your breath, reaching to turn the shower off. Left in the cool air, your skin prickled. You were perfunctory as you dried yourself off, muttering to yourself.

The bedroom was empty when you returned. You pulled on the outfit she’d left for you on the bed. The throbbing between your legs wasn’t getting any less insistent, but you weren’t about to try and alleviate it yourself. Agatha would not be happy with you if you did.

“Stop pouting, pet,” she said, sweeping into the bedroom again, “I told you we didn’t have time for distractions.”

“You started this,” you grumbled, snatching up your shoes to tie up the laces.

“Don’t give me that attitude, pet. You know good and well that you started this by being so delectable,” she said.

Her tongue ran along her lip. You couldn’t help but watch it, entranced, your frustration with her already melting away. Your need for her was definitely not going away any time soon.

“Come on, pet. We have work to do.”

She swept out of the room again. You followed, hot on her heels, not needing to be left behind. Her hand rested on your thigh as she drove, nails digging in. She didn’t offer you a single glance, but you didn’t need it, watching her as she drove, taking in her profile.

“Do you have to stare?” she asked.

“I can’t help that you’re the best view on offer,” you replied.

Her lips quirked up but you saw a faint dusting of pink on her cheeks. It wasn’t often you could fluster the older woman, usually so in control of every situation, but you loved when you said just the right thing to bring out the blush. Her hand tightened, nails biting in, before relaxing again.

“I want you to read the Fox papers today,” she said, rather than indulging in your flirting.

“Okay,” you agreed easily. You trusted her to guide you. She knew best, after all.

Walking behind her through the campus, you noticed the whispers and the stares that followed her. You usually did your best to ignore them. After all, at one point you might have been one of them, gossiping and passing on the rumours you’d heard. Now, you were in the forbidden circle of space that always surrounded her, the chosen. If you were a bird, you’d be preening with pride.

She slammed open the door to her office with little regard for the damage that would be done. You followed her in, shutting the door more sedately. Kicking off your shoes, you curled on the sofa as she settled behind her desk. Once again, she wasn’t looking at you but you’d been given your instructions. You knew how to follow orders.

It wasn’t until lunch that she broke the silence. You glanced up, feeling the weight of her gaze on you, not sure what to think when you saw a small smile on her face and her pinky gently running along her lower lip as her chin rested in her hand. You smiled at her, hoping it would be enough.

“Well?” she asked.

“I mean, she’s brilliant but she can’t half waffle on,” you said.

Her chuckle was an inch this side of fond. You melted against the couch cushions, liking the way she was looking at you. On slow feet she approached, hips swinging in a way that turned your mouth dry. She settled in your lap, curling her arms around your neck.

“You don’t like the use of an expansive vocabulary?’ she asked.

“I like when people get to the point,” you said, lips pressing to her collarbone, just peeking out from the collar of her shirt.

“Is that what you want me to do, kitten?” she asked, finger tilting your chin up, “get to the point?”

“I want you to finish what you started this morning,” you said.

The way her eyes smouldered at you suggested she wanted the exact same thing. And yet, the kiss she gave you was fleeting, leaving you wanted more. Not that you didn’t always want more with her. You knew you were greedy for her.

“I have to give you some bad news, kitten,” she said, thumb tugging on your lower lip.

You nipped at it, not quite listening to her words. Her hand slid down, curling around your throat, holding you in place.

“You’re not listening,” she said, “how many times do I have to remind you to listen when I speak?”

“One more. Always one more,” you sighed.

She shook her head at you but her lips were pressed together like she was fighting a smile.

“I’m afraid you’re going to be on your own tonight,” she said.

“What? No. I’ll be good. Look, I’m listening.” The stab of panic that went through you felt too intense.

“That was the bad news I had to tell you, not your punishment,” she reassured you, “that will come later.”

“Oh.” Your heart rate slowed a fraction, “why?”

“Why are you going to be punished?” she asked, a slow smile spreading over her face.

“Why can’t I see you tonight?” you asked.

She sighed, falling forward until her face was buried in your neck. You tightened you arms around her, playing with the ends of her hair, wild and loose and so very long. Her nose pressed against your skin, lips quick to follow suit. You tugged on her hair, your moan quiet. She suckled on your skin, teeth nipping until you knew you’d be finding a bruise there later. You wore her marks with pride, loving the visual proof that you were hers, that she claimed you.

“I’m afraid there’s a faculty meeting tonight,” she said, “if it’s anything like usual it will be nothing but blathering men drawing it out. They enjoy the sound of their own voices too much.”

“I could wait at your place until you’re done,” you said, hopeful, wanting her to say yes.

“As much as I’d like that, kitten, I’m afraid I’ll be home too late to enjoy you,” she growled.

“I don’t mind,” you said.

“But I do. I like taking my time with you, pet,” she said before her tongue ran up the length of your neck, “do as you’re told and don’t be a brat about it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

It would be the longest you’d gone without seeing her since that first night together.

“Okay,” you said, your voice small, disappointed in every way imaginable.

“Maybe you’ll be able to complete the readings I assign you,” she said, and the look she gave you was sharp as a knife.

“Was I meant to read them while you were…” You trailed off, her raised eyebrow silencing you.

“Don’t get mouthy with me, pet,” she said, grasping your chin again, “or I won’t let you come home for longer than a night.”

You nodded, closing your mouth in a show that you were going to be good. Her lips pressed to yours again, rough and possessive, teeth sinking into your lower lip with a sharp spike of pain. Your fingers clawed at her back, wanting to tear her shirt off her body.

She drew back, pushing your face away from her from the hold she still had on your chin. You huffed but did as she wanted. Sometimes you were terrified if you didn’t then she’d drop you quicker than a hot coal and leave you bereft. There was no part of you that wanted this to stop.

“Will you miss me tonight?” she asked.

“Yeah,” you breathed, “course I will.”

“That’s my pet,” she said, pressing a softer kiss to your lips, “now, finish up the draft of your introduction for me.”

She rose from your lap and you tried to ignore how disappointed you were to be alone again. She glanced over her shoulder.

“Sandwich?” she asked, voice lowering into a throaty hum, “I know you must be starving after last night.”

“Yes,” you replied, “please.”

She left you in her office, returning some time later with a sandwich for you and pasta for herself. You settled with your feet in her lap, devouring the food, pen scratching over your paper as you tried to get her the draft before the end of the day.

At the end of the day, the papers were left on her desk, pinned under a paper weight in the shape of a bell. Tucking your hair behind your ear, she was gentle as she pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Have a good night, pet,” she said, “be here bright and early tomorrow.”

“I will. I promise,” you said.

With a lingering kiss, she shooed you out of her office, locking it behind her. You glanced back before turning the corner, finding her watching you still. You raised your hand before continuing on, out of the history building, your arms full of books, so reminiscent of your early days studying under Professor Harkness.

“So you are still alive.”

You startled, fumbling with the books in your arms as you almost dropped them. Whirling around, your friend, the same one that had dragged you to that waste of a time party, was staring at you, arms crossed over her chest. You blinked then cocked your head.

“Was I not meant to be?” you asked.

“Seriously?” she demanded, and you realised in a flash that she was angry at you, “you’ve been missing for ages. Is it seriously that hard to text me back?”

Oh, right, that. You’d kept meaning to but then Agatha would do something like kiss you and you’d forget all about it. You were living in a haze, a world of your own, one that was consumed with the older woman.

“Sorry, I’ve been busy,” you said.

“Sure, the witch, I get it,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“Don’t… don’t call her that,” you said.

“Sure, whatever.”

You looked down at your feet, shuffling them as you tried to come up with something to say that wouldn’t ruin everything. You knew you couldn’t tell her exactly what was going on, and you weren’t sure you could make up something that would satisfy her enough to forgive your blaring silence.

“Is that a hickey?”

Your hand clapped to your neck, covering the bruise Agatha had left on your skin only a few hours previously. Your eyes widened, stomach swooping.

“Is that why you’ve been missing?” she asked, sounding far more interested now, walking up to you.

“What? No,” you said, but you weren’t sure you were hiding it very well.

“You’ve been getting laid!”

Dread filled you.

“Girl, you should have just said. Must be good if you can’t even check in. Not that I blame you. You must need some serious stress relief after spending all day with the witch,” she said.

“I told you not to call her that,” you said faintly.

Maybe you’d gotten away with it.

“Are you seeing him tonight?” she asked, completely bypassing your comment.

“Oh, uh, no, not tonight,” you said.

“Great. A group of us are going to that new bar that opened up downtown,” she said.

“I dunno,” you replied, already looking for a way out.

“Look, I know last time was a bust, but this is going to be way more low key. Come on, we haven’t seen you in ages. I’ve got to prove you’re still around. Kate was certain you’d dropped out and gone backpacking through Europe but I knew you’d never do that. You love school too much,” she said, slinging an arm around your shoulders, forcing you to walk with her.

“Look, I have a lot of-“ You tried to say.

“Work to do,” she said, interrupting you, “yeah, I know. Clearly you’ve been having fun without us. But c’mon. It’s one night. What could go wrong?”

The creeping sense of dread wasn’t disappearing the further you walked, and yet you knew you would be going out with your friends. You couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse to get out of it.

Your dorm room was dusty, clearly uninhabited for a while. Your friend fell back onto your bed, watching you unload the books onto your desk before looking through your closet. If it was really going to be chill, jeans and a tank top under the purple flannel you’d stolen from the back of Agatha’s wardrobe should be fine.

“You don’t want to wear something sexier?” your friend asked.

“Why bother? I’m not trying to pick someone up,” you said.

“What if you meet someone cute?” she asked.

“I’m perfectly happy with the person I’m seeing,” you said, “are we going or not?”

The bar itself was loud, packed with college students there for the happy hour cheap jugs and half price cocktails. And for a short while, you managed to relax. As long as you didn’t talk about Agatha, it was easy to slip back into your old role for the night. Drinks, and laughter, and reminiscing. You felt yourself ease into it, muscles loosening, your smiles growing easier.

“My round,” you said, pushing up from the table your group had absconded in the middle of the room.

Pushing to the front of the crowd, you did your best to get the bartender’s attention. Busy at the other end of the bar, you weren’t very successful.

“Hey.”

You glanced up. The handsome face looking down at you was vaguely familiar. Lips pulled up in a half smile, pretty brown eyes were twinkling down at you.

“Hi,” you said.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” he said.

“Sorry.” You shook your head, giving a self depreciating chuckle, “I don’t.”

“Mr Gracey’s sociology class. You always said the smartest stuff,” he said.

“Right, yeah, you sat behind me on the left,” you said, his face coming back to you as you thought back to the seminars from a year ago.

“Yeah, yeah, that was me. Matt,” he offered you his hand.

You took it, telling him your own name. He grinned and you felt a warm glow go through you.

“So what are you doing now?” he asked.

“Oh, uh, history,” you said, a wash of anxiety going through you again, “what about you?”

“Engineering,” he said, giving you that crooked smile again.

“Do you want to join me and my friends? If you don’t have people you actually care about to hang out with,” you said, immediately realising how stupid that sounded. There was no way he was here on his own.

“Sure, I’d really like that,” he said.

He followed you back to the booth your friends were at. Your friend elbowed your side as you sat down, watching Matt introduce himself to everyone, easy and confident in a way you’d never been. He settled beside you, warm thigh pressing against yours as he lent over the table to talk to Kate.

“He’s cute,” she whispered in your ear.

You shoved her before plastering a smile back on your face as he turned to you. You slipped into conversation, ignoring the way your friend kept looking between you and him. It’s not like you were going to go home with him, even if he offered. You had everything you already wanted in that department.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Clasping your hand over them, you glanced over Matt’s shoulder trying to find what had caused it. It was almost like someone was watching you. Your eyes searched the bar, trying to find whoever it was.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked.

You jolted, eyes snapping back to him.

“Yeah, fine,” you said.

“Looks like you could do with a top up,” he said, looking down at your empty glass, “come on, my treat.”

You followed him back to the bar, once again having to fight through the crowd to be able to place your drinks orders.

“So you said you’re doing history, right?” he asked, leaning closer to be able to be heard over the crowd.

“Yeah,” you said, more focused on getting through the crowd than what he was saying.

“Yeah because I saw you with Professor Harkness the other day,” he said.

You froze.

“What?”

“You were following her around like a puppy dog. Not that it surprises me. She’s a hard ass,” he said, smiling down at you like he was in on the joke.

“She just has very high expectations,” you said.

“Hey, I think it’s cool that she agreed to mentor you,” he said, “you must be pretty special. Word around campus is she hasn’t taken anyone on in like ten years. If she didn’t have tenure they would kick her out with that kind of track record.”

“I’m sure that’s totally overblown,” you said.

“Okay, well, can you name the last person she mentored?” he asked.

You didn’t have an answer to that.

“Exactly,” he said.

“It’s good she has standards,” you muttered.

“Oh, totally. So cool,” he said, “look, to your right.”

You squeezed through the gap he’d indicated, his hand resting heavy on your back. One more line of people to get through and you’d be at the bar.

And hopefully out of this conversation.

“So what’s she actually like? I can’t believe she once kicked a student in the balls for not handing in an assignment on time,” he said.

“Yeah, that’d be assault,” you said.

“Okay, well, what about the thing about doing those old timey rituals? Apparently she gets naked and dances under a full moon as she welcomes the devil into her body,” he said.

“That would be insane,” you replied.

But you could imagine her doing it for the aesthetic of it. And you wouldn’t mind seeing it.

“What’s she like then?” he asked.

“She’s… she’s brilliant,” you said.

“No doubt, but is she mean? To you, I mean,” he said.

“Uh, no,” you replied, finally pushing up to the bar, “no she’s not.”

“Really? Because she growled like a dog at mate of mine when he walked past her,” he said, “and she fails almost all her students.”

“Maybe they should work harder,” you muttered under your breath.

“What was that?” he asked, leaning closer, right into your personal space.

“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head.

The hand he had on your back shifted, almost curling around your waist as he lent forward to talk to the bartender. You looked away, that feeling creeping up the back of your neck again. Scanning the bar, you still couldn’t see where it was coming from. That same feeling of dread from earlier in the night snuck up on you.

“Here you go,” he said, handing you the drink he’d bought you.

“Thanks.”

It was purple, matching the flannel you had on, reminding you of Agatha. There was a sizeable part of you that wished she was there with you. Not that you thought she’d like your friends. But you always wanted her there and it was weird to be apart. You took a small sip from it.

“How is it?” Matt asked, leading you away from the bar to give the next people their go.

“Good,” you said, “elderberry.”

“It was the most witchy thing on the menu. Seemed appropriate given your mistress,” he said.

“My what?” you asked, a surprised laugh coming out of you.

“Your mistress. Professor Harkness. She does control everything you do, right?” he asked, but you could hear the teasing note this time.

“I’m out tonight, aren’t I? I doubt I would be if she had any control over me,” you replied, despite knowing you were out exactly because of the control she had over you. If she hadn’t said no, you’d be in her house this very moment.

“Lucky for me,” he said.

And there was the clincher. You shouldn’t have invited him to join you and your friends, but it was so nice to talk to someone who was so easy with you. Someone who wasn’t so changeable. Someone so simple.

Nothing about Agatha was ever simple. And you wouldn’t change that for anything.

But sometimes it was a mind fuck and simple was, well, simple.

“Hey, maybe you’d want to get a coffee sometime,” Matt suggested, breaking you out of your thoughts, “something in daylight hours when I can see your pretty face properly.”

“I’m seeing someone,” you said, the words coming out quickly, “it’s pretty serious so…”

“Oh.” He shoved his hand into his pocket, “but he’s not here tonight?”

“No,” you said, “not tonight.”

“Lucky him,” he said, “he got the prettiest, smartest girl.”

“Ha, thanks,” you said, “sorry, I should have said something earlier.”

“Nah, it’s all good. You couldn’t know I’ve been crushing on you since Mr Gracey’s class,” he said with an easy shrug, “should have tried to shoot my shot back then.”

You laughed and he slung his arm around your shoulders.

“I’ll take being your friend, if that’s on offer instead,” he said.

“Consider it done,” you said.

He fist pumped in celebration before the arm settled over your shoulders again. You could ignore the chill that went up your spine this time, certain you were just imagining things. After all, you hadn’t seen anyone before. You were hardly going to find them this time.

You stumbled home close to 1am, bleary eyed and drunker than you’d planned. You fell into bed, still in Agatha’s shirt, inhaling the smell of her from it as you drifted to sleep. It was the best you could have without her body curling around yours.

The next morning, the sunlight was too bright and your head was throbbing. Downing some pain killers with the coffee you picked up on the way to Agatha’s office, shoving a banana almost whole into your mouth, you hurried to the older woman. Despite the pain in your head, there was a skip in your step, anticipation at seeing Agatha again spurring you on.

Rounding the corner, her door was already cracked open. You pushed it open, shoving your sunglasses to the top of your head so you could see her properly. There, behind her desk, pen in hand, she was resplendent. Wild dark hair, pale skin, pink lips pursed with displease.

“Hi,” you breathed out.

She glanced up before going back to her work. A swoop of disappointment in your stomach had your weight shifting from foot to foot. But, not to be put off, you closed the door and dropped the books she’d sent you home with on the couch cushions.

“How was the meeting?” you asked.

“A waste of time,” she replied, voice clipped.

“Guess you should have played hooky with me,” you said, forcing good cheer into your voice as you dropped into your usual spot on the sofa.

“Yes,” she scoffed, “I’m sure that would have been far more worth my time.”

“It certainly would have been more fun,” you said, letting your eyes sweep over her body.

You could think of many things you could have done with her the night before that would have been fun. And satisfying. And hot.

“I doubt it,” she replied.

The sharp stab of rejection was swift and breathtaking. You gaped, staring at her. She was never one to turn down the chance to get you naked and begging. She liked making a whiney mess out of you.

“Is…,” you broached, “is something wrong?”

“No, why would anything be wrong?” she asked.

“It’s just, you’re being… prickly,” you said, “more so than usual.”

“If I was being prickly, it might be because I gave you clear instructions for last night, and those were not followed,” she said, finally looking up at you.

“What?” you asked.

She sneered at you, eyes darting to the books beside you before landing back on you. The pen in her hand was twirling and you didn’t know what to do.

“I believe I told you to do your reading. Not,” she said, voice growing hard, “going to a bar and flirting with the first pretty boy that smiled at you.”

“Flirting?” You didn’t remember any flirting.

“Yes,” she snapped, “flirting.”

“I wasn’t flirting with anyone,” you said.

“So you don’t deny being out late drinking last night?” she asked.

“No.” Your voice was so small.

“I was stuck in an endlessly boring meeting, thinking about all the ways I planned on rewarding you for this latest draft, only to find out you weren’t even capable of remembering such simple instructions,” she said.

“You were?” you asked.

“You can leave,” she said.

“Wait, what?”

The bottom fell out from beneath you. You gaped at her, your breathing coming too fast, not able to process what she was saying.

“Get. Out,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Agatha, I-“

“Out,” she said again, not giving you the chance to say anything.

You stood on numb legs, automatic to her demands. You stumbled to the door, opening it and stepping outside, glancing back for one last glance at her. She wasn’t even looking at you, staring down at her work. You had no idea when you’d see her again.

You were halfway down the hall when something in your brain clicked. You paused, wondering if you had the courage to do what you wanted. You were still shaking and you were terrified of pushing her so hard she made sure she never had to see you again.

You spun on your heels.

Her head snapped up as you pushed through her door, slamming it shut behind you. With deft fingers you flicked the lock before turning, pressing against it to steady you.

“I thought I told you to leave,” she said.

“I don’t want to,” you said.

“Not everything is about what you want,” she replied.

“I want you.”

It was there, laid out for her, the exact same thing you’d said to her that first night. The thing that had prompted that first kiss. The thing that she had laughed at, so confident in herself in that moment.

“And that’s my problem how?” she asked, raising a single eyebrow at you.

“Because you want me too,” you said.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night,” she said, turning her gaze back to her work.

“And I think you’re jealous,” you said.

That got her attention. Her upper lip curled as she looked at you again, her sneer obvious. Rising from the desk, she walked towards you like the predator you knew she was. You trembled, pressing against the door, her prey as always, but you refused to back down.

“I think your meeting finished and you went to the same bar I happened to be at and you saw me talking to Matt. And I think you didn’t like that,” you said.

Her hand snapped out, hand curling around your throat, pinning you to the door. You let her, staring in her eyes, watching the way she stared at you. Her snarling mouth drew closer, hand squeezing, eyes flashing with anger.

“When I told you that I don’t want anyone else touching you, I meant it, pet,” she all but spat at you.

“He didn’t touch me,” you said, “not like that.”

“Don’t tell me he was a gentleman,” she all but scoffed, “that he wanted to take you out to dinner first.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, not pointing out that’s exactly what she’d done.

Her hand squeezed tighter. You reached out, gentle fingers brushing the hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. She slapped your hand away.

“You don’t come in here after spending the night in someone else’s bed, expecting me to welcome you like a good girl,” she snarled, “you should be glad I’m letting you walk out of here without punishment.”

You brushed your fingertips over the apple of her cheek. She tried to grasp your wrist but you refused to let her. You were slow as you cupped her cheek, staring into her eyes, refusing to back down from her. You needed her to see the truth.

“You can’t convince me to forget this, pet. You disgust me. I bet you still smell like him,” she said.

“Agatha,” you managed to croak out, “I smell like you.”

Her upper lip curled and she drew closer, inhaling against the skin of your neck, just behind your jaw. She was so close you could smell her, the same scent that had clung to the shirt you’d been wearing since the day before, the one that soothed you to sleep every night, the one that could both calm you and excite you.

“You can’t trick me,” she growled, “I know he was inside you. Did he bend you over? Did he make you come so hard you saw stars? Or did he grunt and then roll over and fall asleep, leaving you unsatisfied?”

You shook you head.

“Is that why you returned to me, pet? Because you know no one can make you feel as good as I can?” she asked.

“Why would I bother with a boy like that when I have you?” you asked.

She seemed to not have an answer to that, gaze almost boring into you. Her hand tightened one last time before she let you go, shoving you against the hard wood of the door. The ache around your throat was almost comforting, knowing she cared enough to show so much emotion.

“Don’t come back,” she said, turning her back on you.

Ignoring her, you stepped forward, curling your arms around her waist, pressing your face to her shoulder. Her hand curled around your wrist, hard enough for delicate bone to grind against delicate bond, nails biting into your skin. You tightened your arms around her.

“I spent the entire night wishing I was with you. When Matt asked me out, I told him no because I already had someone. I told him it was serious. I’m serious about you,” you said, softening your voice, wanting her to hear you, to really hear what you were trying to say.

“He was all over you,” she said, ground out, but there, beneath the anger, was something else.

The thing that only made you hold on tighter.

“And all I could think about was how I couldn’t wait for morning so I could see you again,” you said.

“It didn’t look like you were thinking about me,” she said, “you were having fun.”

“When you’re not on offer, I have to make do with what else I can find. Would you prefer I sit alone, wallowing when you aren’t there?” you asked, knowing the answer, “I asked to wait at your house until you were done. I would have waited there for you if you’d let me.”

“Don’t turn this back on me. This is not my fault,” she spat.

“Nothing happened. You own me, body and soul. No one else compares,” you said before placing a soft kiss to the skin of her neck.

Her head tilted, just a little and you knew you’d won the war. She lent back, letting you catch her weight. You breathed in the scent of her, right from the source, before you kissed her again, tongue flicking out to taste her skin. Her hand tightened around your wrist, but this time, rather than on the precipice of dragging it away, she pressed you closer.

“Let me show you how much you mean to me,” you begged, “please.”

“You’re trying to make me forget, kitten. I can still see his hand on you,” she said, head rolling towards you.

“I can still see your hands on me,” you replied, “and your mouth. You’re all over me.”

She turned in your arms, those long fingers pushing into your hair. You held still, letting her do what she needed. Dragging you forward, she kissed you, tongue delving into your mouth, humming when you so easily opened for her. Her teeth sunk into your lip, tugging on it.

“On the desk, pet,” she murmured against your lips.

“What?” you asked.

“Get on the desk,” she replied, drawing back, breaking your hold on her.

You did, unsure of what was coming. Raising yourself to sit on the edge of her desk, you looked at her watching you, eyes so dark it still worried you. Your mouth grew dry as she stalked forward, once again her prey. Strong hands parted your knees, hips slotting between your thighs, touch sliding up your legs until your own hips were held in a tight grip, right over the bruises she’d left on your body.

“He might not have fucked you, but you were flirting, pet. I know what I saw,” she said, “I know what you look like when you flirt.”

“Because I flirt with you?” you asked.

“Yes,” she hissed.

“Agatha,” you said, reaching out to play with the ends of her hair, “I was talking about you. That’s why I looked like that.”

“You were gossiping about me? Feeding the rumour mill? Did he enjoy hearing all of the depraved stories about me?” she sneered.

“I told him how brilliant you are,” you said.

A flash of pleasure went over her face before she settled back into the disciplinarian. You wrapped your fingers in her hair, tugging on it until her head dipped towards you.

“Just the thought of you makes me mooney eyed,” you whispered.

“You think flattery will make me forgive you?” she asked, voice cold, sending a shiver down your spine, “no one tries to take what’s mine.”

Your breath caught as her hand curled around your throat again, thumb pressing into the hickey she’d left on your skin the day before. Her teeth closed over your earlobe, tugging on it until she heard you whimper.

“You won’t remember his name when I’m done with you,” she murmured against the shell of your ear.

Her kiss was a relief, soothing your anxiety. You hadn’t ruined everything. She still wanted you.

The kiss was slow, taking you apart as you melted into her. She took her time, really making sure you felt every moment as she turned your brain to mush. Opening up to her, you let her take as much as she wanted from you.

You didn’t notice as her hands worked to unbutton your jeans. She hummed, fingers pushing past your waistband. You whimpered again, feeling her fingers slip lower, feeling how wet you already were for you.

“Naughty, pet,” she murmured, “did you enjoy my temper?”

“I enjoy everything about you,” you replied, breathless as her lips descended down the length of your neck.

Her teeth sunk in as her fingers slipped through your folds. You whined her name, the most beautiful word in the world as far as you were concerned. She chuckled, muffled against your skin, but you could just picture the smirk on her face. She always liked hearing the effect she had on you, refusing to let you remain silent.

Her finger was tracing a familiar pattern over your clit, featherlight, not nearly enough for you. Your fingers slipped into her hair, right at the roots, clenching just to have something to hold on to. Her tongue ran along the length of your neck before she kissed you again. You’d never grow tired of the taste of her.

Her finger teased your entrance. Your hips pushed forward, coaxing her but she lingered, never giving you what you wanted when you wanted. She never worked on anyone’s time but her own, refusing to give in unless it was what she wanted.

“Please,” you mumbled into her mouth, “Agatha, please.”

“No, no, no, pet,” she replied, drawing back to watch your face, your hands falling from her hair, “you’re going to be patient and follow instructions. Just like you should have yesterday.”

Her touch returned to your bundle of nerves, still too light, barely a brush of fingertips. The same pattern that had grown familiar, over and over again as she watched you squirm. Her own personal brand on your most intimate parts. You’d let her brand you as much as she liked if she would only keep looking at you the way she was. Like you were something she’d never grow tired of watching.

“Agatha,” you whimpered.

“Are you asking me to stop?” she asked, the humour obvious.

“No.” You shook your head violently.

“Then I can’t imagine why you’re talking. Needy pets need to learn patience,” she replied.

All you could do was sit there, accepting her teasing, the fire in your veins growing. Blue eyes watched every inhalation, every shift of your hips, every clench of your fingers. She collected the noises that fell from your lips like they were precious gems, seeing how often she could find them. Your entire body ached to have more but you held still, biting your tongue, knowing this was your punishment. Played just enough to make you want more, never enough to relax, caught under her gaze as you became exactly what she accused you of. Of being needy, greedy, desperate for her. If only she understood you didn’t need her teasing to feel that way. Just knowing you walked the same earth as her had you feeling like that.

“Turn around,” she commanded.

You scrabbled to follow her orders, almost crying out when her hand slipped from between your legs. You turned, splaying your hands on the top of her desk, staring down at the bell shaped paper weight. With one foot, she knocked yours apart. Her arm slipped around your waist, fingers running over the vulnerable skin of your lower stomach. Pushing you hair over your shoulder, her mouth attached itself to your neck once again.

Her hand slipped down, into your underwear, back to your throbbing heat. Your knees felt wobbly but you held still. You would do anything she asked as long as she kept touching you.

“Such a pretty little thing,” she murmured into your ear.

Her free hand snaked its way up your body, sliding under your shirt. Tugging the cup of your bra down, her fingers immediately found your tight nipple. You pushed your chest into her touch. She pinched it, slow to roll it between thumb and forefinger. She was busy sucking another mark into your skin as your hips pressed back into hers.

Her fingers sunk into you. The noise you made was a mixture between a cry and a whimper, nothing but pure relief to it. She whispered your name into your skin. Her own name falling from your lips was a thanks to a goddess given for all the blessings you were receiving. Her thumb ran in slow circles over your clit as her fingers began to thrust, painfully slow and deliciously satisfying. Your head fell forward as your breathing grew heavier.

“How does that feel, pet?” she asked.

“So good,” you whimpered.

“Want to feel even better?” she asked before her lips closed over your earlobe, still playing with your tits.

“Please,” you begged.

“That’s my pet,” she murmured.

Her fingers curled. You moaned her name, flithy and so good. Her thumb ground against you, electricity spreading over your skin. She was everywhere, completely surrounding you, wrapped up in her arms. The pace of her thrusting increased, each with a twist, a curl, a beckoning closer to your peak. Your name was so sweet on her lips as she kept whispering it into your skin, over and over, hand working hard and fast between your legs.

You held on, waiting for her permission. She was in control, and you were more than willing to give her that power over you. You turned your head, seeking out her lips again. Her teeth nipped at your lower lip, tongue sliding along yours, swallowing your moans.

You could feel your orgasm, so close, just waiting for you to give in to it. And her fingers kept pumping in and out of you, turning you breathless. You were practically chanting her name as she returned her attention to your neck, leaving a map of her mouth on your skin.

“What was the name of that useless boy you were with last night?” she asked.

“I don’t care,” you replied.

“Hmm, not good enough,” she said.

Her hand stilled within you, holding you right there on that precipice. You could have cried. Your hips pressed back against her. She tutted, pinching at your nipple again, painful, another jolt of pleasure going through you.

“Agatha,” you pleaded.

“I promised you wouldn’t be able to remember his name and I always keep my promises,” she said, “so what was his name, pet?”

“It was-“ Her fingers curled, stroking your inner walls, “it was…”

“Yes, pet?” she hummed.

“I don’t know,” you admitted.

“Who do you belong to?” she asked, the words a caress over your skin.

“You,” you said, almost a sob.

“Say my name,” she commanded.

“Agatha!”

With precise movements, she took you apart until you were a trembling body wrapped in her arms. She whispered into your skin, too quiet for you to hear as every muscle tensed. Her name kept tumbling from your lips as your orgasm crashed into you, shaking in her arms, pressing into her. your knees buckled, and if not for her hold on you, you would have crumpled to the floor. Her fingers worked you through it, drawing out every drop of pleasure in your body. Soft lips pressed to your skin, over and over again, waiting for your breathing to return to normal.

“Agatha,” you rasped out.

Her hand slipped from between your legs and you caught her wrist, licking your arousal from her skin. She hummed, nose buried in the skin of your neck, pressing you against her with the arm still around your waist. She nuzzled against you, surprisingly soft, almost needy in the way you usually were.

“Such a good pet for me,” she murmured.

You turned, ass pressing into the edge of the table as you dragged her into a kiss, desperate for her to understand how you felt. To know there was no future you didn’t want her in. That you would do this for the rest of your life with her. That there was no one else for you.

Whatever anger was there before was gone, leaving her soft as she looked at you. You brushed her hair out of her face, twirling it around your fingers, playing with it in a way that had grown familiar over the time you’d been with her.

“My good kitten,” she sighed, kissing you again.

You let her manoeuvre you to the sofa, curling in her lap as her hands continued to stroke over your body, soft and slow and gentle. You pressed closer, wanting her warmth to seep into you, for there to be no space between the two of you, to never be apart from her again. Her lips pressed to your hairline, lingering.

“You’re sure you don’t want to run off into the arms of that pathetic excuse for a boy?” she asked.

You drew back just far enough to look at her.

“There’s no one but you, Agatha,” you said, cupping both her cheeks as you stared deeply into her eyes, “you’re the only one I see.”

She softened before your eyes. Her arms tightened around you and when she kissed you, your heart skipped a beat. Her hand slipped under your shirt, tracing that same pattern into your skin. Those six letters a brand on your soul.

Agatha.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness imagine #agatha harkness #agatha all along

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itsgirlyki · 5 months ago

Text

“is she?”

nanami and yn have been keeping things a secret but it’s getting hard to hide.

🌺includes: kento nanami

contains: pure fluff, fem coded reader, swearing, early pregnancy, established relationship

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. ‧₊˚❀

“yn-sensei? welcome back!” yuuji excitedly walked in your direction hoping to catch a conversation from you. three weeks ago, you abruptly left unexpectedly for a mission not being able to bid anyone a farewell. although it was only a coverup of why you were really away.

when he approached, you cupped his cheek gently which he greatly appreciated with a hum of joy. you’ve grown overly fond of the young man during the times he spent with you. “yuuji, great to see you.” you retracted your hand from his cheek.

“what about me bitch?” sukuna quips from the same cheek you held making you giggle from the vulgar words.

you flicked his cheek with a smile. “you’ve got a mouth on you, quite literally yuuji.” sukuna growls but kept his words at bay.

yuuji beams happily enjoying the attention but notices something slightly off about your usual appearance. was your skin glistening brighter? or did you fill out your uniform a little more? he put his thoughts to ease seeing as you were speaking to him. “what was that sensei? i quite didn’t catch that..” he nimbly replied.

you raised a brow disregarding his daydream repeating the question. “i asked if you wanted to walk with me to cafeteria before i head for the teachers lounge.”

“i’m down.” he gleefully nodded walking alongside yourself strolling to the cafeteria. as you both were walking yuuji observed the way you stepped. it was almost sluggish and drowsy causing him to pause with a frown. “uhh sensei are you okay?”

out of shock you stop dead in your tracks looking at him. you tried to keep your composure resuming your walk forcing it to be firmer. “why wouldn’t i be?” yuuji didn’t take lightly at the answer but didn’t pester about it anymore.

the both of you arrived at the cafeteria spotting the other first years inside. you gave a quick wave before motioning yuuji to join his friends. “i’m gonna grab a meal. why don’t you join them.” he gives a thumbs up walking away from you to join the two others.

“is it just me or is yn-sensei.. glowing?” nobara glanced at the teacher who was happily bouncing on the balls of her feet, now stacking food into a bowl. her skin shined almost reflecting whatever was nearby.

yuuji agrees hastily with the doubt from earlier leaving his body. “yes i was thinking the same! doesn’t she look bigger as well?” he grunted after earning a slap on the head from megumi, who only grumbled.

“you don’t talk about a lady’s weight.” nobara chuckled at megumi’s actions also giving yuuji a harsh nudge.

“yeah that’s super rude. even if it is true.” she crosses her arms observing your form from afar.

the portions looked a bit much for one person but you could be starving. she looks down to your stomach which was slightly pointed outward making her eyes light up in realization. ‘she looks pregnant.’ her mouth dropped slightly in shock but chose not to say anything since it wasn’t her place.

you walked back over to the trio with them being awkwardly quiet and paid no mind to it. “nobara, you’ll catch flies.” you chuckled tapping her chin. she quickly closed her mouth and blushed softly.

yuuji snorted at nobara being caught of guard. “thanks sensei.” she bashfully rubbed the back of her neck.

“alright children, i have to meet up with the other sensei’s but you have my cell if you need me!” you quickly wave them off skipping to your next destination which was to see your blonde headed husband.

the walk was a bit lengthy due to the slow pace you were walking. you’ve texted kento you were on your way a couple of minutes ago but you didn’t think it would take this long to get there. you decided a little break wouldn’t hurt and spotted a nearby bench, besides you have been getting hungrier each step of the way.

“sorry ken.. we’ve gotta take a minute.” you mumbled sitting on the bench eating your lunch. you hummed in satisfaction as the food filled into your stomach depleting your hunger. a minute became thirty and your meal session turned into a outdoor watching.

you hear shuffles come from behind you startling your core. “i figured you’d sit down..” nanami appeared from behind with crossed arms and a look of worry. “you had me anxious. no call or text?”

a sheepish smile smeared across your face as you rubbed your stomach. “i got a little distracted.” you went to stand but he patted your shoulder lightly making you sit back down.

he takes a sit next to you placing an arm over the bench. “a little?” being too stunned to speak you pouted sticking a tongue out at your husband.

“womp womp!”

“how mature of you.” he chuckled, brushing the hair out your face leaning in pressing a quick kiss on your lips.

“how smooth of you.” you repeated back leaning in pressing another firm kiss on his lips. you scoot into his warm body laying a head onto his shoulder having conversation. him occasionally brushing your stomach with his large hand.

“well that’s not something you see everyday..” a familiar voice sprang in the air causing you and kento to lean away from each other looking into that direction.

shoko, who was walking had now halted watching the scene you two made, the second years not too far following behind her but had shocked faces. kento face palmed at his carelessness forgetting that he was still on the campus. you on the other hand waved jollily standing to greet everyone.

“shoko! second years! how are you?” you clasp your hands together strolling in front of them. they regathered their composures and began to speak back.

“not as good as you it seems.” she snickers making nanami scowl and sigh. he knew the teasing would be inevitable for why he wanted this a secret.

“since when was this.” she did a pointed motion towards you and him. “a thing?”

“salmon!!” inumaki agrees wanting to know the answer as well.

“i’ve always known you weren’t on the market yn-sensei! you’re too pretty.” pandas words make you flush with glee. you fan off his words humbly thanking him.

“nanami-sensei though? odd pair. you’re so sunshine! he’s so… clouds.. bills.. get to work.” you internally died at his statement trying not to laugh in your husbands face.

“i am still right here.” the stoic man grumbled shaking his head. panda bowed repeatedly to him.

maki had been awfully quiet not saying a word just visibly observing you. you wondered what she was thinking. “something on your mind maki?” you ask.

she blinks snapping out of a daze nodding her head. “have you been bulking?” of course the girl had thought it was for working out. you gulped as everyone also began staring at your form noticing the slight changes. kento began to sweat slightly shuffling away from the area.

“now that i’m looking at it, you have gotten bigger especially down there.” shoko softly pressed a finger on your stomach making you flinch back.

“so, are you calling me fat?” you chuckled trying to play it off but she had a different opinion.

“no, i’m actually calling you pregnant.” the sound of a penny could be heard dropping. you asked why she thought that and she merely shrugged.

“firstly your skin is glistening but there’s no sweat, then you’re hunching over a bit, and not to mention the prominent curve. do i need to say more?” you wheezed almost forgetting that this is a doctor you’re talking to.

“secrets out i guess! yes, i’m one month pregnant.” you blew a raspberry at shoko for blowing your cover but happy it wouldn’t have to be held in anymore.

panda had an internal battle with his head shortly making an outburst. “so that means.. nanami-sensei is the dad!!” pandas paws slid down his face dramatically looking over to the blonde man to find him gone.

“wait that’s actually gross.” maki puts a hand on her face looking away, inumaki blushes as well covering his face even more.

you pout childishly pointing an accusing finger at them. “how do you kids think you got here??”

“SENSEI STOP!!!”

“SHOKO SHOULD’VE NEVER SAID ANYTHING!!”

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extra: with nanami and gojo

“so i heard yn is pregnant.. by a little blonde.”

“gojo i will harm you.”

“seesh, fine..”

“…”

“was it wet?”

“gojo leave my office.”

for more like this follow @itsgirlyki !!

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk nanami #nanami kento #nanami x reader #kento nanami #kento x reader #itsgirlyki

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puari-vol · 2 months ago

Text

Good Girls at the Slumber Party

CW: Hypnosis

*tap*

My eyes fluttered open, where am I? Had I fallen asleep during the movie? I found myself on the floor of a dimly lit bedroom, I was restrained…no I was being held. Arms wrapped around me in a tight hug. I looked up and I saw a girl sitting in a desk chair, she smiled down at me

“Did you sleep well, pet?”

My memories started to return…the slumber party, the movie, the spiral…this girl…I started to struggle against the arms holding me, which elicited a giggle from behind me.

“Now now, settle down sweetie”

The Girl in the chair waggled a disapproving finger at me, then before I could react she reached forward and-

*tap*

…

*tap*

My eyes fluttered open, where am I? I felt arms around me, holding me in a tight embrace. And I heard a chorus of laughter and giggles from all around. I looked to see…everyone, everyone from the slumber party seated in a circle around me. They were all looking at me, smiling. All their gazes made me freeze in embarrassment. What had I done that was so funny? What happened? I remembered the slumber party, the movie, the spiral…the girl…The girl sitting in the chair just in front of me. She smiled down on me with a light in her eyes

“Oh..so precious…you’ll make a wonderful pet”

“P-pet?” I stammered, I tried to struggle against the embrace that held me, I glanced back up in time to see her hand coming toward my-

*tap*

…

*tap*

My eyes fluttered open, I was staring directly into someone's eyes. I felt hands on my cheeks, holding my head

“Shhhhhh darling, shhhhhhh”

A familiar voice…from the party…right the slumber party, the movie, the spiral…the-

“Shhhhh, just relax for a moment, don’t think just listen”

Her hand gently ran down my face, crashing my train of thought. I tried to ask a question but it just came out as incoherent babbling. Just as I was starting to get my thoughts in order I felt her-

*tap*

…

*tap*

My eyes fluttered open, I-

*tap*

…

*tap*

My eyes-

*tap*

…

*tap*

…

*tap*

…

*tap*

…

“There we go, you're ready to listen now. Kelsey, could you come over here?”

“Yes Mistress!”

“Good girl, just get on your knees right there okay? Perfect, smile at your friend. Good. Now pay attention to Kelsey here alright? She’s going to demonstrate how the button that turns off your brain works. Just tap her on the forehead and…there she goes. Look at her sleeping so deeply, so prettily. So perfectly relaxed now that her brain is off, and now we bring her back with another…tap, and she’s back. How do you feel Kelsey

“I feel wonderful Mistress”

“Good girl, now let's show your friend a new trick, are you paying attention sweetie?”

Everything felt heavy and slow, I was wrapped in a warm comforting embrace, it felt like I was in a dream

“yes…”

“Very good, now when a good girl gets her button pressed, her brain turns off. Press it again and it comes back on. But what happens when we hold it down? Let's find out, ready Kelsey?”

Before Kelsey could answer, she reached over and pressed a finger into her forehead. At once Kelsey’s mouth dropped open she took on a vacant expression. Then her eyes rolled back, fluttering…

“There we go, now Kelsey are you awake or asleep?”

“I am awa…aslee…”

She mumbled

“That’s right, you’re not awake or asleep, you’re both!”

The girl in the chair looked at me to explain

“You see, it's kinda like with a computer. You can turn it on or off with a button, but if you hold it down you can do a hard reset, and I can install new instructions before booting it back up. What are your instructions Kelsey?”

“I am a Slumber Party Slut��

“And what does that mean?”

“It means I do whatever any girl at the slumber party tells me to do”

“Good girl! Now it's time for you to receive some new instructions, you brought a friend to take your place, so now you are a Slumber Party Slave. What are you Kelsey?”

“I am a Slumber Party Slave”

“That’s right, a slumber party slave’s job is to tell the sluts what to do, and train them to be very Good Girls for Mistress. And of course…to use them however you like. Now it seems your friend is in need of some basic training, what are you going to do Kelsey?”

“I’m going to make her into a Good Girl, I’m going to make her into a Slumber Party Slut”

“Very good slave”

She removed her finger from Kelsey’s head, and her eyes finally snapped shut. She would have collapsed in a heap if the girl in the chair wasn’t propping her up. The girl turned to me and smiled one last time

“You two have fun”

She tapped Kelsey on the forehead again and she opened her eyes. Then the girl got up from her chair and left the room as Kelsey started moving towards me. My mind was feeling less foggy now, and suddenly adrenaline coursed through me as I tried in vain to struggle free. Much to the amusement of whoever was holding me

“Kelsey! Please just…wait a second”

She just smiled at me, and reached toward me. I had to resist, I had to fight. I tried to focus on staying awake. But all I could think about was the look that had been on Kelsey’s face while she was-

*tap*

I felt myself fall asleep…but I didn’t fall asleep, it was like drifting off but never quite sleeping. Just the falling and falling…falling…falling…falling…falling...falling…

“You are a Good Girl”