#can she interest you in an egg in this trying time

[animereaderinsertwriter]

part one - two - three - four -five

i saw you in a dream (bucky barnes x reader)

tags/warnings: plot with porn, fluff, a little angst, there is some mild amnesia, major plot twist, first person (bucky's) pov, inspired by this song

blurb: In this life and every life; waking and dreaming; this I swear.

These are the words inscribed on Bucky's wedding ring. A wedding ring that he doesn't remember ever having. It's not a vow he made-- not that he remembers, anyway-- but it might just be one that he decides to keep anyway.

ao3 here

“I’ve decided to call off of work for a while,” my wife explains to me over breakfast. “I’d rather be around if you need me than be at work, and we’ve got ample savings to live off of in the meantime.”

I ask her if she’s sure about that— I don’t really need a babysitter, I’ve already gotten over my meltdown about this whole thing— but she assures me that she believes it’s the right decision.

“What do you do for work, then, that they let you have time off so easy?”

She hesitates.

“I work for Tony Stark,” she replies after a moment. “As it stands, though, he’s got an excellent team, so they can share the load of whatever I’m leaving behind. Besides, it’s time I took a vacation.”

She’s keeping something from me, but I let it slide.

“Babysitting me is hardly a vacation.”

She shoots me a sly grin over her cup of coffee.

“Who said I was babysitting? Keep up the sass and I’ll call Dolores to sit with you while I go to Bali.”

I’m startled into a laugh.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I? Try me, soldier boy.”

There is a strange energy between us that makes me feel oddly playful. I want to forget about eggs and bacon and chase her around the house instead.

Gradually, though, that energy fades as we run out of things to talk about. Awkwardness subsumes us again, and since I cooked, (Y/N) offers to wash dishes, presumably to escape the weight of the silence between us.

About an hour of that tension is all either of us can stand. 

“I’m going downstairs to train,” she says, throwing a bar cloth over her shoulder. “Would you like to join me?”

I blink.

“We have a downstairs?”

“Yes— a basement.” A fond smile comes over her face. “You designed it yourself.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“I did?”

“Oh yes.” She grins. “Come on, dear— I’ll give you the tour. You’ll love it.”

She walks past me just close enough for me to feel the heat from her body, but does not touch me. She keeps going just long enough for me to see the full length of her figure, then turns back to throw at me a mischievous look over her shoulder. 

“Well? Coming?”

She keeps walking, and I keep staring. This time, though, I grin. This hint of playfulness gets a rise out of me not unlike the one from before, and I realize that this must be what normal is for us.

What a fox.

Like a hound dog wagging his tail, I move to follow her. This, if nothing else, should prove interesting.

***

Three and a half hours later, I’m sore, sweaty, and I can’t feel my face.

To be fair, we’ve only been working for most of three hours. The majority of the first hour was spent on rediscovery— and what an hour it was! Not only did I apparently stock most of the cool machines I’d used in Wakanda, but there were also some things I’d never seen before, such as the combat simulator that Shuri had apparently gifted me last year for my birthday. (Y/N) warned me that it felt real, but I didn’t believe her until those nerve stimulators of Shuri’s mimicked exactly the feeling of a bullet ripping through my shoulder. It’s unpredictable, the simulator; it generates combat scenarios at random, and not every conflict ends well even if you do everything by the book. It’s a genius invention, and I spend an hour and a half on that alone.

As fascinating as the combat simulator is, though, it doesn’t hold a candle to what comes next.

While I rest from playing with all my (new) gadgets, my wife has been working slowly and steadily, alternating between lifting weights and training with a punching bag. She’s sweating heavily, and she looks pretty fatigued, but she keeps at it with a determination that reminds me of Steve. Eventually, though, she sits down to rest too, and between gulps of water, she says,

“Spar with me.”

“What?”

The word comes out as a laugh. She smirks.

“Laugh now, Sergeant Barnes, but I learned from the best.”

“Oh yeah?” I challenge playfully. “Who?”

Her smile is radiant and warm; it feels like a house fire in my chest.

“You.”

My heart skips a beat. 

She thinks I’m the best.

It’s a stupid thought, perhaps even a silly one, but it’s there. Even so, looking at her now, moving to stand with her hair all mussed and her face all sweaty, I know I can’t seriously spar with her. 

At least, that’s what I think until she whirls a kick at my head, forcing me to block it with my forearm.

“I said,” she pants, baring her teeth in a feline grin, “spar with me.”

The word no had been on the tip of my tongue— but I’ve never been one to leave a blow unanswered.

I grin back, and the game is on.

I launch myself from my seat, aiming to use my size to my advantage and grapple her— safely, gently, of course— to the ground. All my arms catch is air. She bounds lightly backwards, as graceful as a dancer, and holds her hands up in a ready position. 

After I aim a few hits at her, missing each one, I realize her strategy. I’m bigger, stronger than her, sure, but it takes a lot more for my muscles to move my larger body than it does hers. She’s baiting me into my strikes, hoping to fatigue me before she presses what then will be her advantage. I adjust accordingly. I feint left, but move right— the motion traps her as my metal metal hand closes around her soft flesh. I think I have her until she uses the same momentum that I use to pull her to me to bash her forehead against the bridge of my nose, stunning me. She wrenches free and tries to sweep my feet, but I’m too sturdy for her. Instead, she falls with the motion, and I follow her to the floor in an unsightly but effective crawl to try and close the distance between us for a grapple. She doesn’t make it to her feet before I’m on her, and I know it’s game over now.

Size for size, strength for strength, I’ll win.

Surprisingly, though, she still makes me work for it.

In an impressive show of agility, she rolls away from me before I can grab her— but not before aiming a kick at my temple that, had it landed, might have been deadly. Frustrated, I make a grab at the foot that kicked at me, and she stomps my fleshy hand with her heel— meet punishment for the pettiness of my grab. Truly irritated now, and in sorry pain, I get my feet underneath me and throw myself at her once more.

She rolls again, and my hand misses her arm by only half an inch. In fact, she almost makes it to her feet before I finally latch both arms around her waist and bring her down hard. I win the ensuing scramble; only a few seconds pass before I have her pinned beneath me, my hands circling her wrists and forcing them to the ground beside her head. Her legs are pinned open by my knees, and I grin in fierce triumph.

“I win,” I say, and I know my expression must be wild with joy.

Her expression doesn’t exactly match mine, though. Her eyes are wide, her lips are parted, and…

And her chest, slightly exposed and pressed forth by her raised arms, is heaving.

The world slows. My awareness narrows to just the places where our bodies are touching, which is… a lot of places. My heart is racing, I can’t catch my breath— and neither can my wife. My wife, who is panting, sweaty, and beautiful, whose soft thighs are on either side of mine, and whose eyes say she wants me to close all the distance that there is between us.

“Bucky.”

She breathes my name like a sigh, and I know that in this moment, I’ll do whatever she asks of me. 

“Bucky,” she repeats, “I think— I think I need to shower.”

That’s… not what I wanted to hear.

I let her up. She dusts off like it’s nothing, but I can see the tremble in her limbs. She’s fatigued beyond fatigue, utterly exhausted— and so, I find, am I. On unsteady legs, I move to follow her, then stop.

“Eat something,” I tell her belatedly, uselessly. “I mean, to keep your strength up, you should probably eat.”

She turns. Her smile is sad.

“Thanks Buck, darling. I will.”

And thus, like a newborn fawn, she stumbles out of the room on shaky legs, leaving me to stand in humiliating silence with a raging hard-on and nothing to do with it.

***

While (Y/N) showers, I raid the kitchen. 

My own shower was short and cold. I took it in the guest room, which is just as richly furnished as the rest of the house. It wasn’t the best shower I’ve ever taken, though, since I wouldn’t exactly call it refreshing. I came out of it just as I came into it— tired, frustrated, and hungry.

One of those things can be fixed quick, fast, and in a hurry by an enterprising guy like me, though, and I place my bets on the fridge as I crack it open for a peek at its treasures.

There is everything imaginable in that refrigerator. So much that I have a hard time choosing anything at all. I settle on boiled eggs, string cheese, and an apple to start, and when that doesn’t do the trick, I manage to put together the ingredients for a simple but flavorful soup.

By the time (Y/N) returns from her shower, the soup is finished and there’s a bowl cooling for her on the counter. I serve it to her myself when she comes into the kitchen, and she thanks me tiredly as she sits at the dining room table.

“This is good.” She blows on the steaming spoonful she’s scooped up. “Thank you.”

I shrug.

“Sure thing.”

Once she’s done, I take her bowl and clean up. Her eyes are drooping sleepily, and I have to work to hide my smile from her as she yawns cutely.

“Wanda, Nat, and Bruce want to go out tonight,” she sighs tiredly, looking at her phone. “They’ve invited us, if you’re interested— although, just so you know, they likely have selfish intentions for asking us to come.”

I cock my head to the side in question. My wife blinks blearily, then clarifies.

“You can’t get drunk, so you always DD.”

“Not selfish, then.” I laugh, “just common sense.”

“Mm, maybe. Wanda gets weepy when she’s drunk, and Bruce gets cornier. Natasha stays Natasha, but sometimes her languages become… interesting.”

“And you?”

She grins.

“I have no idea what you mean. I’m a delight, as usual, even when I’m drunk.”

Oh, I can translate that pretty easily. My money says she’s worse than all three of them combined.

“So,” she continues, “you in or out?”

I consider declining— (Y/N) seems too sleepy now to go out later in the day— but then I remember our sparring earlier and decide that, super-soldier-ness be damned, a drink might be a good idea after all.

“I’m down. You sure you’re not too tired? We worked hard earlier.”

“I’ll nap,” she yawns. 

I continue cleaning up, and she shuffles in the direction of the master bedroom with a muffled thanks for the food.

A little while later, I settle in on the couch and very politely pretend that I can’t hear the distinct buzz of a vibrator through the walls as my wife, on the other side, softly calls my name, doubtless thinking me unable to hear. 

Damn that super soldier serum. Never did me any damn good. 

***

I’ve never taken so long to dress in my life.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s like I completely fried my brain looking at the wardrobe in front of me. There are… there are colors here. Colors and designs and textures— how the fuck am I supposed to match any of this to anything else? I have half a mind to ask (Y/N) for guidance. However, the other half of my mind would insist that I jump off a bridge before resorting to having her dress me like I’m some kind of doll, so instead of looking at the clothes and continuing to overwhelm myself, I move to look at myself in the mirror and try to imagine an outfit that I would like.

While I’m scrutinizing myself trying to find the best outfit, I realize that my hair is different than I remember it. It’s still long, but there are more layers. I like it, I think. It makes me look cleaner, sharper. 

I finally settle on a black button-up and a pair of jeans. There’s a jewelry box on the dresser that I found my socks and underwear in, and I open it to find jewelry that must belong to me: a couple medals (Jesus, they’re old!), a silver chain, and a set of cufflinks.

There is also a wedding ring.

I lift the wedding ring and examine it. There is an inscription looping on the inside of it that reads,

In this life and every life; waking and dreaming; this I swear.

I consider putting it on my finger, but I decide against it. I haven’t earned the right to wear it— not yet. I have no right to my wife; as I am, I can’t be what she needs. I’ll need to wait until I can prove to her and to myself that I can still make her happy before I can feel right about it.

I place the ring back in the jewelry box and try not to feel disappointed.

I pick up the silver chain. It might be a nice addition to the outfit, I think. I put it on, stare at it, then take it off. I peer at myself, sigh, then put it back on. 

It’ll have to do.

After much wailing and gnashing of teeth, I finally manage to meet my wife in the living room, ready to head out. I make it halfway through the threshold to the living room before my jaw hits the floor.

Her dress is champagne gold with a perfectly-draped neckline that I feel sure makes my eyes bulge out in cartoonish heart shapes. The thin straps of the halter neckline settle pleasingly over her shoulders, and when she turns, I thank God for every roll, dimple, and contour of her back. Her long, delicate earrings brush her shoulders as she turns back to me, and I decide then and there that it’s over for me. There’s no way I’m not going to spend every minute of every day trying to make this dame happy for the rest of my life. Greek statues would be jealous of such a beauty. Hell, I don’t discriminate— statues of every race, color, and creed can eat their hearts out. They could never compare to her.

“Hey handsome. Whatcha think? Will I do?”

My approval must be obvious; she smiles cheeky and adds,

“It has pockets!”

To show me, she sticks her hands in them. The motion makes her breasts jiggle prettily, and I fix my gaze on the light fixtures in the ceiling trying to will away the urge to peel that fucking dress off of her with my teeth like I have any right whatsoever to do so. 

I really don’t know what the hell’s come over me. I feel like a hound-dog slavering over a fox. I’ve always loved women— who doesn’t?— but this feels… different. I ache for her in a way that makes me want to crack open her rib cage and live there.

“You look great.” My mouth is dry. I clear my throat. “Really great. I feel a little underdressed, looking at you. I can change, though, if you— ”

She grabs my arm, right on the muscle of my bicep.

“Don’t you dare,” she murmurs, looking up at me through her lashes. “If you look any better, I’ll have to keep a baseball bat around to beat the women off of you.”

She squeezes my bicep, then releases me, her expression subdued.

Was that… jealousy? 

Interesting.

I offer her my arm— the metal one. She takes it, and I try not to feel smug.

“Ready?”

She smiles, nods, and accepts the arm I offer— but not before glancing at it and frowning. I frown too, confused about what might have displeased her, but there’s nothing I can figure out before we’re loading up in what is apparently my Jeep Wrangler. She directs me to each of our friends’ houses— “Wanda last,” she insists, “to give her time to put the kids to bed”—and then to the nightclub Natasha likes.  

The club is nice— the whole place looks like the inside of a lava lamp— but it’s full to the brim with sweating, drunk, scantily-clad people who all seem to feel entitled to touch everyone else. I personally don’t have any interest in that sort of thing, especially not this grinding business that looks little better than public dry-humping. Back in the day, I’d be spinning girls all around the dancefloor; I’d keep them on the floor until their feet hurt and even after. Now, though? I wouldn’t be caught dead doing… whatever that stuff is.

Well, if (Y/N) asked for a dance, I’d do my best. Anybody worth their salt would know better than to say no to a dame like her. But the thing is… she doesn’t ask me.

“I’m going to dance for a while,” she yells at me over the sound of the music. “Are you good here?”

“Peachy,” I shout back, propping my feet up on a rung of the barstool I’ve claimed. “Have fun, beautiful.”

Her smile glows in the blue-green light, and then she’s gone with Wanda and Natasha, who seem just as eager to dance.

Out of politeness, Bruce hangs out with me at the bar for a little while and we talk shop— S.W.O.R.D’s research and operations, Steve’s programs there— but it’s clear that he wants to dance as well. Before long, I send him off with a clap on the shoulder for encouragement, and then I’m alone at the bar, sipping surprisingly good whiskey.

A while later, a woman sidles up beside me to order a drink. I turn to look at her. She’s a dark-haired beauty with skin the color of polished bronze and hair like big, dark, fluffy clouds. Her lips are full, and they glitter with reflective golden gloss.

“Hi!” She greets me as we make eye contact. “You’re super handsome, oh my God!” 

I blink.

“Uh, thanks.”

“Say, do you wanna dance?”

“No can do. I’m here with my wife.”

The response is automatic. I shock myself with it. For a guy that’s only been married less than forty-eight hours, I’m coming to find that the “nope, I’ve got a wife” instinct sure does kick in fast.

“Oh my bad king! Have a good night!”

She turns to go, but I reach out and grab her arm.

“Wait, wait!” Jesus, fuck, I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’ve got to be the stupidest man alive… but this might just be what I need. “I… think I might need some advice. Do you know stuff about relationships?”

She purses her lips in thought, then nods her head.

“Bad ones, yeah. Good ones, not so much. Also, babe, I’m a little drunk so I dunno how useful I’ll be to you right now.”

“That’s fine.” Reconnaissance, I tell myself. This is just simple reconnaissance. “You mind if we talk a minute?”

“I don’t mind at all! Yap away!”

I tell her the important bits and leave out the stuff she probably shouldn’t know.

“Like I said, I just feel like I barely know her anymore, but I… I want to try and make it better. She’s good to me, and I want to be good to her. Plus, the chemistry is…” I think back to that sly smile, the press of her thighs against mine. “Off the charts. I just wanna be the man she fell in love with.”

Lani— that’s my new friend’s name— nods thoughtfully. 

“And you say you’ve only been back stateside for a couple days?”

I nod and feel a little guilty using someone else’s war for my white lie. Still, though, I don’t know what all my excuses would consist of if there was only peacetime in recent years.

“Then this is just relationship throat-clearing,” Lani tells me confidently, throwing back the shot I bought her. “Ack— that’s strong. But yeah, it’s just a phase. If you wanna speed stuff up, I recommend physical touch. Not the sex kind, you understand— just hold her. Your bodies have probably done a little forgetting even if your minds haven’t. Might be a good idea to start there.”

“But how do I initiate it without coming off.. weird?”

Lani and I talk for a long time. I lose track of how long. Before I know it, it’s been two hours, and I look up to realize that I haven’t seen my wife in that amount of time. I look around, but I don’t see her.

“Don’t worry,” Lani is telling me, “You seem like a good guy, and you’re trying. If she loves you, you’ll work it out just fine.”

A weird look comes over her face, and she adds, “Besides, if I’m guessing correctly… she’s definitely still burning hot for you, king, so good luck out there.”

I turn back to her and thank her sincerely. She pats me on the shoulder and thanks me in turn for the drinks. It’s only right, she insists, that her bad experiences should serve to help someone else prevent them. With that, she’s off, and I’m sitting by myself once more.

Tired now, but armed with a good strategy, I stand, stretching my legs. I scan the dancefloor for my wife, but I don’t see her in the immediate vicinity. When I do catch sight of her, I wish I hadn’t— her eyes are all molten fury as she squishes her way through the crowd of dancing bodies. Whatever has happened tonight, she’s not happy about it, that’s for damn sure. Still determined to act on the advice I was given, I start to make my way toward her, but before I can get very far, I see someone grab my wife’s arm and yank— hard. She stumbles, and I catch sight of the person who’s holding her. 

It’s a man. A large, scruffy-looking man with a look of trouble about him.

I start to shove through people faster.

(Y/N) tries to snatch her arm back, fails. She’s clearly a bit drunk, and stumbles when he yanks her over to him. I’m two strides away, but not close enough to help before the situation explodes.

My wife, full of righteous fury from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head, rares back and punches the guy straight in his ugly face. 

He lets her go then, but people start screaming and the crowd jostles me away from her. I’m trying very hard not to lose my patience and start swinging my elbows— I could kill someone like that with my level of strength— but I’m starting not to care as I watch her use her fists like hammers on the guy’s skull. I’ve seen shit like this among soldiers before, back in the day. She’s drunk, she’s angry— and, judging by how long she lasted against me sparring, she’ll catch a fucking manslaughter charge if I don’t intervene soon. 

I scream her name above the din, but she doesn’t hear me. Her knee connects with Ugly Guy’s nose, and I finally break free from the people-prison that had me trapped. 

“Hey!” I call out to her, reaching for her arm. “Baby, hey, he’s had it, okay, you made your—”

She whirls on me, and I catch hell in the form of a cupped hand smacking painfully against my ear.

“Stay the fuck out of this,” she snarls at me, vicious and cruel. “I’m not done here.”

Oh, but she is. I can be every bit as vicious and every bit as cruel as she can be, and I prove it by grabbing her from the back and putting her in a metal-armed headlock.

“Stand down, babygirl,” I growl close to her ear. “You don’t want to kill him.”

“I do,” she confesses darkly, struggling vainly against me. “I want his bleeding heart in my hands!”

“Then not here, not now.” Bouncers have finally noticed the commotion— too late, sadly. They’re heading for us, but I keep my voice level and calm. “Behave or I swear to God I won’t let anyone bail you out of jail.”

“You have no right to command me!” She thrashes in my arms like a trapped animal. “Let me go, asshole!”

“I have every right.” I tighten the lock.

“Says… who?”

“Says this.” I tighten my arm more, and she wheezes like a squeaky toy with the squeaker ripped out. “Now behave. I don’t wanna go to jail.”

And, let’s be real— if that stupid, ugly fuck decides to raise his hand to her even in self defense, it’ll be both of us sitting in a jail cell. I’d kill him for it.

I let her go then, and she stumbles, clutching at her throat and gasping for air. I feel an instant flash of regret, but I have no time to process it before I’m gathering her in my arms and promising the bouncers that we didn’t start it, but that we’re leaving so as not to cause more trouble. They look at us skeptically, but decide that we’re apparently not worth the trouble and send us on our way. 

Natasha and Bruce catch up with us at the doorway. They saw the whole thing, apparently, and had the same trouble I did with trying to reach (Y/N) before she caused more trouble for herself and us. 

“You guys go on home,” says Natasha, a strange look in her eyes. “We’ll catch up with Wanda and we’ll all get an Uber home when we’re ready.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, desperate for an answer in the affirmative.

“Yes, we’re sure,” Bruce says, placing a reassuring hand on my wife's shoulder. “We all get mad sometimes— and sometimes, we all need a break.”

If Bruce Banner tells you that you need to take a chill pill, you take one. 

And so that’s how my wife and I end up parked in our garage, staring straight ahead at the wall in absolute silence. I’m lost in thought, pondering how such a promising evening went to shit so fast, when (Y/N) breaks the silence.

“I’m sorry I hit you.” Her voice wavers a bit. “And that I called you an asshole. I was just so mad…”

She’s fighting tears. I want to stretch out my hand to her, but I don’t know that the gesture would be welcome.

“S’okay. You had a right to be mad at that guy. He was a total creep.”

She shakes her head.

“I wasn’t… I wasn’t mad at him. I mean, I was, but not initially.”

I turn to her, but she’s staring straight ahead, jaw clenched. With great effort, I keep my voice gentle.

“What happened? Why were you angry, then?”

Her lower lip trembles.

“I really don’t want to talk about this right now, Bucky.”

It’s not the answer I wanted, but it is an answer I will accept.

“That’s okay. We’ll talk about it later.” I think for a minute, then add, “Also, I’m sorry for putting you in a headlock and then insinuating that I have a right to order you around.”

She huffs a laugh.

“I deserved it. All you did was keep me from making a pretty big mistake.”

“Still,” I insist, “I was meaner than I would have liked, and rougher too. I’m sorry.”

“Bucky, please don’t apologize— not for this. It was the right call.”

“But I am sorry it had to happen that way. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

To my shame, there is still a red line at her neck where my arm pressed against it. It’s not bruised or anything, but the mark itself shames me.

My wife turns to me, rigid and acerbic. She says,

“James Buchanan Barnes, I have begged on my actual knees for the same thing you did this evening and worse for my own, selfish… lascivious reasons. When I tell you that no apology is necessary, I mean it. You have nothing to apologize for. No touch from you could ever be too rough for me.”

The implication she just made— that she enjoyed being in a headlock, that she… gets off on that rough and ready side of me— lays heavily between us. 

I’m utterly speechless.

“Ugh, I’m still fucking drunk,” she groans. “Don’t listen to me. I’m going to bed.” 

She clambers out of the Jeep and makes her way into the house. I sit there for a minute to process, then turn the car off and follow her inside.

By the time I make it in, the water to the main shower is running. With a loose plan in mind, I undress down to my boxers and slip between the covers of our shared bed adjacent to the bathroom and wait for her to finish. 

Then my hearing picks up on something I’m not supposed to hear— a whispered phone call that is meant to be masked by the running water of the shower, but isn’t.

“I don’t know, Shuri.” My wife is saying, her voice thick with tears. “He may wake up tomorrow and remember everything. No, the tests won’t be back for— oh stop that, you know we don’t have Wakanda’s resources. No, I don’t think international travel is a good— Shuri! Listen to me, he’s okay. Why am I so emotional then? Why do you think! Because— ” there is a pause, a shuddering breath, then, “Well, I’ve made a fool of myself. Oh, Shuri, what a jealous fool I’ve been!”

(Y/N) recounts the evening as she remembers it, and I am horrified to discover her version of events. Right off the bat, I apparently managed to fuck up by not wearing my wedding ring— apparently she saw that as a sign of rejection and not the show of respect I had intended it to be. That pain, of course, exacerbated the jealousy she describes to Shuri as me openly flirting with and buying drinks for a hot, drunk chick— a jealousy that she thinks she doesn’t even have a right to feel because I’m no longer hers— or at least that’s what she thinks I seem to think.

This account paints me in a terrible light indeed. I feel physically ill listening to all of my actions being laid out and twisted into something they were never meant to be.

“I can’t even be mad at him, Shuri,” she cries, a terrible, aching sound that wrenches my heart and roils in my gut. “It’s not his fault— he doesn’t even know me. And— I mean, yeah, I know he saw the ring ‘cause he had on the necklace, so he had to have looked in— ugh, don’t distract me! My point is, what if he never remembers? He— he may want to leave. No, I won’t stop him— I want him to be happy, even if it’s not with me. I just— I love him, Shuri. If he leaves, it will break my heart.”

I keep listening , but those words bounce around in my brain. 

If he leaves, it will break my heart.

“I don’t even think he thinks I’m pretty anymore. When he saw me in my cute little dress— you know, the gold one with the pockets?— he looked up at the ceiling as if he’d rather look at anything else. Oh, Shuri, it’s over. It’s hopeless!”

It’s all I can do not to bust the bathroom door down and correct every misconception she has. Instead, I bide my time, resting my eyes and my body as she finishes her phone call and her shower. She needs this time and space, so I give it to her until the water shuts off and she makes her way to the bedroom where I lay in apparent sleep.

(Y/N) steps softly up to the bed, then hesitates. I’m willing to bet she’s contemplating sleeping in the guest room. Without opening my eyes, I say,

“Don’t be shy. There’s plenty of room.”

Gingerly, she climbs into bed. She settles as far from me as she can get— an admittedly respectful distance in a circumstance such as this one. Still, I’m unsatisfied. 

“You can stay there if you’d like,” I tell her, “but I’ll feel terrible if you fall off.”

She doesn’t move. It’s remarkable how quiet her crying is, but I can feel the sadness radiating off of her in waves.

I sit up. 

“Hey.” I open my arm— the metal one— up to her. “Come here.”

She shakes her head.

“You don’t have to do this, Bucky,” she sniffles. “You— you’re really not obligated to comfort me. If anything, I’m supposed to be comforting you.”

“Why?” I ask. “I’m not the one who’s lost anything. From where I’m sitting, I’ve only stood to gain. I have a home, friends, and a beautiful wife where I used to have none of those things. But you… you’ve lost a husband.”

She covers her face with her hand, and I take it upon myself to close the distance between us. I pull her to me, and she buries her face in my chest while she cries.

“I’m sorry,” she says, over and over. “I’m sorry…..”

I soothe her as best I can. I rub circles into her back and hold her close. When she shifts awkwardly, I grab Kleenex from the nightstand and let her blow her nose. The whole time, I take Lani’s advice and don’t let her get more than three inches away from me. 

When she’s calmer, I begin to speak. I start with what I feel should be the most obvious fact that she has misunderstood.

“I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world.” I tell her firmly, brushing hair away from her face. “I’ve seen a lot of women in a lot of places all around the world and even outside of it, and to me, you beat the hell out of all of them. When I saw you in that dress, it was all I could do to keep my hands off of you and go back to whatever it was we were doing in the basement earlier.”

My wife blinks owlishly. I don’t wait for her to respond before I press on.

“But,” I continue, “I kept my hands to myself because I haven’t earned that yet. I’m stumbling in the dark here with no clue what I’m doing— I’m not the man you married. At least, not yet. But I’m trying to be. I want to be him. That’s why I didn’t wear my wedding ring. I wanted to be worthy of it— worthy of you— before I put it on. In retrospect, I’m realizing I must have seemed like an asshole by not wearing it— even further from the man you know and love.”

“Oh Bucky,” she sighs, tears streaming down her face, “you really are the man I married, even if you don’t know it, you sneaky, conniving, eavesdropping bastard. You listened to my phone call with Shuri, didn’t you?”

I turn pink from the top of my chest to the tips of my ears. 

“That depends on how mad you’ll be if I say yes.”

She lets out a snotty giggle that’s stupidly cute.

“S’what I get for marrying an assassin and a spy,” she smiles through her tears. “Go on, dear— you might as well finish up. You’d better have a jam-up excuse for letting that girl fawn over you all night, or I’ll still be cross with you.”

I shrug.

“That one’s easy. I was asking her for advice about you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

She’s quiet for a long time after that. I keep handing her tissues and she keeps blowing her nose until the fount of her tears finally dries up.

“So?” I probe gently, taking her hand in mine, “Am I forgiven?”

“Of course.” She squeezes my hand. “It’s me who should be asking for forgiveness— I should have trusted you to start with.”

I shake my head with a grin.

“My wife can do no wrong as far as I’m concerned. Even when she does something wrong, I’ve got to assume that it’s my fault somehow.”

“Bucky,” she laughs. I lean my forehead against hers and decide to press my luck.

“Can I kiss you? I’ve wanted to since we sparred earlier, and I think it would go a long way towards soothing any ruffled— mph.” 

Her lips are soft against mine. She kisses me once, twice— and then I deepen the kiss, adjusting our bodies until my hand is threaded through her hair, forming a cup around her skull as we kiss deeply, unhurriedly, as though we have all the time in the world. Her hands roam and so do mine, and in this slow, sensual exploration, I am completely, utterly lost. 

Selfishly, I want more. I want to pull my wife into my lap and let her feel what she does to me— I want to kiss and touch her and make her feel good— but Lani had advised me against this temptation.

“If you give in too soon, somehow sex and intimacy become the same thing, which… they aren’t,” she’d told me. “She needs one much, much more than the other, and I’ll give you a hint— it’s not sex. Trust me, even if it feels right in the moment, it won’t later. It’ll feel transactional. That's the worst possible outcome, ‘cause when it comes down to it, there’s always a better deal somewhere else. Give her safety, though, and she’ll always be yours.”

So that’s what I do. I hold her and kiss her and touch her until she’s tired, and then I tuck her into my chest and wait until her breathing evens out to close my own eyes and sleep.

[vestological]

who’s your pokémon partner?

Exeggcute

Well, would you look at that! It seems an Exeggcute wants to be your partner! Exeggcute, also called the Egg Pokémon, communicate with another through telepathy to form an energy bond. Like most grass and psychic Pokémon, Exeggcute are drawn to people who are understanding and intuitive, though they are also known to be exceptionally reserved and communal Pokémon. They make the perfect partner for trainers who are understanding and perceptive, and come across as emotionally removed to those who don't know them well. My friend, this marks the beginning of your and Exeggcute's journey together. Welcome to the world of Pokémon!

[euniexenoblade]

"I'm not a girl!" - a transfem forcefem story

Hi hi hi hi, note that the premise of this is essentially an egg being cracked by an older woman, so there's a lot of he/him and "boy" useage. But stick with it please, I assure you the end is worth getting to :) also don't be mean about any weird grammar I literally wrote this in a couple of hours for free. Be nice.

----

The boy stood there against the wall holding a red solo cup, looking down at the floor, overwhelmed from alcohol and loud booming music of the party. He had watched his drunken roommate drive off with a date – his ride home was gone. He didn't know any of these people, his roommate insisted he come to this party to meet new people, and now he was all alone. Panic and anxiety swarmed his thoughts. He was drunk, he'd never been drunk before. He was fairly far from home, could he walk home like this? He doesn't know any of these people, would any help him if he asked for a ride home? He doesn't ask, though, he just stands against the wall, looking down at the floor, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone there, trying his best not to panic.

A moment of bravery, the boy looks up from the floor to scan the party to see if there was anyone that looked like they'd be approachable. To his dismay it all looked like drunken college kids talking, dancing, being obnoxious, people he felt too scared to talk to. His eyes flow from one side of the room to the other, noting nothing interesting. That is, until he sees a tall woman standing with a group of girls. Long legs under a short skirt being the first thing to catch his attention, but before long he noticed her wearing a band tee that was so tight it was straining against her chest, causing him to stare at her chest from afar. For a brief moment, he is distracted from his anxiety with drunken horniness. That is until he finally notices, she's staring back at him.

The boy freaks out. He doesn't want to offend anyone, especially drunken party goers. He decides it's finally time to head for the door across the room, but as soon as he moves towards it, he collides with some other drunken guy. His drink spills all down his clothes, the other guy getting none of the splash back. They apologize to each other, and the guy walks away leaving the boy alone in the party again. He looks down at what was once his favorite shirt, now potentially stained and ruined. He's angry he let his roommate talk him into this, he just looked like a dork and felt more out of place than he usually did.

“Are you going to clean up or are you just going to be a mess for everyone to see?” a voice whispers in his ear from behind.

He jumps around and finds the lady he had been staring at so intently greeting him with a smile. “Um, I, uh,-”

The woman grabs him by the wrist, “Bathroom's this way, silly.” She drags him to the hallway and opens a door, and pushes him in before coming in herself and locking the door. He stands there in the middle of the bathroom, staring at this woman in shock, unsure of what to say. She looks at him blankly, “What are you doing? Take your shirt off so we can try to save it.”

He gets nervous again, “I...uh...I don't really like being shirtless.”

The woman scoffs, “Such a child. You were about to cry in the middle of a party when you noticed your shirt was stained, take the damn thing off.”

Nerves or not, it's hard to say no when an older woman tells you to do something. "I wasn't going to cry," he mumbles as he pulls his shirt off. Before he can do anything with it, she snatches it from him, fills the sink with water, pulls a small cleaner bottle out from the bag she had been carrying under her arm, and starts working it into the shirt. “I know the guy that lives here. He's always throwing these stupid parties to feel cooler than he is. There's never anything interesting happening at these parties. Just drunken college losers.” He sits down on the side of the tub, letting the random woman do the work he didn't really know how to do. “That is, until I saw some pathetic perv about to cry in the middle of one.”

“Hey!” He yells without thinking, “I am not a perv!”

“Oh? Then why were you staring at my tits?”

“I, uh, um, I don't think that's, uh very pervy. I mean, Isn't it kind of normal?”

She turns around, a big smirk on her face. “Aw, someone's embarrassed about her perviness.”

He notices the pronoun she used, but decides to ignore it. “So, uh, can I have my shirt back? I don't feel well and I want to go home.”

“Sorry sweetie, it needs to go through the wash and dry. You can just go like that. This is basically a frat boy party, no one's gonna think a shirtless guy is weird.”

He considers it. “I'd rather not, even if my shirt is wet.”

She stares at him as if he said something incredibly stupid. “Ok, fine.” She grabs the bottom of her shirt with both hands and somehow pulls it free from her body, her breasts only concealed by a black lacy bra. She tosses the shirt at him, “There you go, a fresh shirt to go home in.”

“I c-can't wear this, it's a g-girl's shirt. They'll make fun of me...”

“Huh? Nothing about it is inherently girly. It's a concert shirt. And these dorks are so drunk they won't notice a thing.”

“I. Uh.” He's overheating. Overwhelmed again from the alcohol, the booming music, and a situation with a girl he's never been in before. But, above all else he's struggling with the realization that he's fully erect at the idea of wearing her clothes. “I. I. I can't. If peo-if people see-”

“Oh I see, wearing girl clothes turns you on, huh?”

His whole face turns red. Embarrassed is an understatement. He doesn't know how to respond. He's frozen.

“Aw, how cute. Strip.”

“WH-WHAT?!”

“I said strip. Take your pants and underwear off now.”

“N-N-NO! WHY WOULD I??”

“You're going to do what I tell you or I'm going to push you back into the hallway shirtless, and you can navigate what ever feelings that makes you feel.”

The boy's confused. That's not really a punishment. Anyone not wanting this situation would easily accept that. Even with being uncomfortable shirtless around people, he could deal with it to get out of a weird situation with a woman like this. But, despite that, he found himself standing up straight, unbuttoning his jeans, and pulling them and his boxers down. His body on full display for her, his cock fully erect, which he tries to hide with his hands as his face gets incredibly red again.

“Good girl.”

“I'm not a girl!” he yells back.

“Not yet, maybe.” She reaches up her skirt, and loops her fingers around the ends of her panties and slowly pulls them down. He watches her, confused and excited, and for a split second he can see from under the skirt that she has a dick. The boy looks away, pretending not to have seen.

“Aw, adorable. I'll make a girl out of you for sure.”

“I'm not a girl!”

She sticks her hand out, her black lacy panties hanging from one finger.

“Put them on.” She says.

“WH-WHAT?? NO, I can't, absolutely not!”

Her demeanor doesn't change. She just keeps looking at him with an intense stare. “Put them on, now. I will not repeat myself again.”

Once again, it's an easy situation to walk away from. He doesn't have to listen. He can grab his clothes and go. As she said, everyone's drunk, no one will likely noticed he came out of the bathroom naked. But, as before, he does as he's told. He takes the panties from her hand, and slowly slides them up his legs, his fully erect cock making the most noticeable bulge.

“Now you won't be so concerned about wearing my shirt, will you?” He doesn't reply. He's standing there in this woman's panties, feeling emasculated.

“How are you getting home?” the woman finally asks.

“I, uh, I guess I was going to walk.”

“Oh sweetheart, not in this state you aren't. I'll drive you.” Once again, he doesn't argue, he's already so embarrassed and overwhelmed he just avoids making eye contact and nods. "Now put on your clothes.”

He pulls his jeans on over the panties and puts her shirt on, noticing that it fits him remarkably well. “She was definitely wearing this to show off her boobs” he thinks to himself. Once he's dressed, she grabs his boxers and wraps the wet, cleaned shirt in them and places them in her bag. She unlocks the door and once again, grabs him by the wrist and pulls him with her. He doesn't resist, his will is beaten down too much, and a ride home sounds ideal. Just as she said, none of the drunk people even notice that he's wearing her shirt, all they notice is that she's topless now. “Haha yeah I spilled a drink!” she says, which is enough to make these people nod and ignore her. No one even notices him, or the fact he's wearing her panties. A fact that's getting his cock even harder.

The woman pulls him outside and guides him until they finally reach her car. She only finally let's go of him so he can get in the passenger seat, making him feel like a little kid being lead around. He's finally free to just sit down, something he's longed for all night, he collapses into the seat, finding such comfort in her car. She gets in the driver's seat. “So, where do you live.” He mumbles the address to her, so drunk and so comfortable that he's having a hard time staying awake. She plugs the address into her phone and seems ready to go. She turns on the car, loud music comes on as she does, overwhelming the boy again. The car doesn't move. He doesn't care though, he's barely awake. The comfortable seats feel like a new home for him to melt into. And, as he's starting to drift away to his dreamland, he jolts awake, she's rubbing his cock through his jeans.

“WH-WH-WHA”

“Aw, my sweet girl, you got so excited wearing my cute panties through that crowd of people didn't you.”

“St-stop, w-what if someone sees?!”

“Then they'll see me playing with a pervy girl.”

“I'M NOT A GI-” he couldn't finish, instead erupting into a moan as her hand went beneath his jeans and stroked him through the lacy panties. The softness of the panties felt so good on him.

“That's a good girl, quiet down and let me reward you.”

Once again, he was red. He couldn't argue with her, she knew exactly what to say to shut his brain down. She's stroking at a decent pace, he can see people going in and out of the house, but none seem to turn their gaze to the car. And even if they did look, he didn't care anymore. He was so very close to popping. He needed this. He needed to cum right here, right now. But, then the feeling stopped. He looked at her pulling her hand back, “No, please I really want to cum”

She ignores him and as he tries to ask again she pushes her fingers into his mouth. “Clean my fingers, and maybe you'll earn the right to cum.” This time he wasn't embarrassed, he was frustrated. Horribly frustrated. He needed to cum and now instead he was sucking his own precum off of this woman's fingers. But, he accepted it. He wanted to cum, and she promised he might get to. So he was willing to do as he was told.

“Good girl.” He doesn't argue this time. He knew she would just embarrass him again if he tried. Plus he wanted to cum. His silence brings a bigger smirk to her face. “Now let's get you home.”

The drive home was uneventful. She was taking her time making sure she didn't get into an accident. Eventually they arrived at his apartment complex, and he lead her to the apartment itself. He unlocked the door and walked him, she followed him in. The living room was dark, but he could tell his roommate hadn't come home yet. “Take me to your room.” And he does as told.

His room isn't very interesting. No posters or anything, not much furniture, just the bed, a dresser and a tv with some video games spread around. He could tell she was disappointed by what she found, but she didn't say anything about it. He tried to think of what to say, but he didn't know what the next move was.

“Strip down to your panties.”

But, clearly the older woman knew what the next move was. He did as told, he took her shirt off, he took his jeans off, and he stood there in the middle of his bedroom in this woman's panties, made wet by his precum. She walks over and runs one hand through the hair on the side of his head, and with her other grabs his ass, and then starts to kiss and bite him along the neck, slowly moving up his neck. Each kiss followed by a sharp bite, each one making him grow all the more restless. He lets out soft moans, surprising himself that he can sound that way.

“Such a good girl~” she whispers.

“I'm not a girl.” The boy moans.

“Oh? You're embarrassed to show your chest to a bunch of drunken men like a girl, you've got your panties incredibly wet like a girl, and right now you're moaning like a girl.”

He blushes. “N-none of those things make someone a girl.”

The woman slips her hand under the panties, grabbing his bare ass as she responds, “That's true. But doesn't it sound more fun to be a girl? What do you have to lose by embracing this part of yourself? Why not try something new?” He moans as she starts to bite him again. He has no retort. Just desire. His cock throbbing, yet tears forming in his eyes. “Please make me uh....please make me your girl.” the girl finally says.

A big smile forms on the woman's face. “Of course, sweetie.” She pushes the girl backwards onto the bed. The woman looks down on her with such a big smile as the girl adjusts herself so she'll be more comfortable on the bed, but all her movement stops as the woman gets on top of her. The woman starts by kissing her upper chest, slowly working her way to her nipples. The girl grabs her sheets and squeezes her hands into fists as the woman sucks and bites, making her moan from pleasures she never knew she could feel. The woman takes her time, sucking and biting, eventually kissing her way to the other nipple and repeating the process. Slow, biting, sucking, kissing, pleasure.

The woman starts to move on, kissing slowly down her chest, slowly down her stomach, slowly down her crotch. The woman starts to pull the panties down, just enough for her cock to pop out, and the woman takes it into her hand and puts the head into her mouth. The girl moans at the feeling of the warm mouth on her cock. With her hand, the woman starts to jerk the girl off, while lightly sucking on her and her move her mouth back and forth. The girl's eyes roll into the back of her head and she moans the biggest moan of the night. She's never felt such ecstasy before. It's intense. So intense. She needs it. She needs to finish. She needs to cum now. “Please, please, please” she moans. “I want to cum please.” She can feel it close. She knows it's soon.

And the woman pulls the girl out of her mouth. The girl is once again frustrated, “no, p-please, don't stop please...”

“Do you think you've been a good girl tonight? Why should I let you cum?”

“Please please please I'm sorry I'll be your good girl please let me cum.” She's desperate. She'll do anything. She has never felt this good before, she doesn't want it to end like this. “Please I'll do anything you want please, I'll be a good girl for you I swear.”

The woman smiles again. She pulls off her bra, revealing her giant tits for the girl to see. She pulls the girl head into her chest, face between her tits. “How do you like the tits you were so obsessed with?” The girl doesn't know what to say. They're lovely, but the pressure in her is too intense, “please, please, please” she cries while her eyes start to form tears.

The woman let's her go and stands up next to the bed. “I don't want to hear you beg. I want you to earn your right to cum. Put your mouth to good use.” The girl never considered she might be expected to do something back. This is all so new to her, she was just riding along with what the woman did. But, she didn't feel resistant to it, she just wasn't sure what to do. Sitting on her knees, the girl was easily crotch height with the woman now. The girl slowly lifted the woman's skirt, revealing the woman's semi erect cock. The smell of the woman's sweat and cock flooded the girl's senses. And she loved it. It made her even hornier. She takes the woman into her mouth, trying to copy what the woman has done before.

The woman puts both her hands on the top of her head, “Don't overthink it, just relax.” The girl listens and tries to slow down and relax, and then the woman thrusts, her cock hitting the back of the girl's throat. She pulls back and thrusts again. The girl understands now and tries to relax, but this is completely new. But that doesn't stop her from being a good girl. “Oh babygirl, your throat is just like a fleshlight, it feels like you're made for my cock.” The girl barely hears the words, she just lets the woman have her way. The seconds become minutes, the minutes drift by as the girl loses all sense of time. She is not a boy tonight, she is this woman's toy.

The woman eventually stops thrusting, exhausted she pulls her cock from the girl's mouth. The girl can see strings of saliva and precum connecting them still. “Lay down.” the woman commands. Having learned her place, the girl does as told, laying her head on her pillow, preparing for what's to come. “You've been such a good girl, I think it's time I helped you cum.” Excitement wells up in the girl. She's waited all night for this.

The woman crawls onto the bed and stands on her knees, pushing herself between the girl's legs. She puts her cock on the girl's cock, and thrusts. The girl lets out a loud moan. And again, the woman thrusts. And, again. And again until she's developed a rhythm. The girl realizes she can see the woman's face like this. She can see her face strain and hear her moan with each thrust. This turns the girl on even more. The woman notices the girl staring, and slows her rhythm as she pushes herself forward to shove her tongue into the girl's mouth. The girl doesn't know what to do and just let's her do it. The pleasure is slower, but the pleasure is there. The woman lifts her head back up, resuming her previous posture and previous rhythm, causing the girl to let out long, deep moans. The pressure is coming back, the intensity in her cock is building, “I'm g-going to c-cum” she moans out.

“Mmm, cum for me sweet girl,” the woman replies. Finally with the permission, the girl finally feels herself explode. Her cum shooting out of her and covering them both. The girl breathes heavy, nearly in tears, “th-thank you thank you.” The girl can't tell if the woman replied, her senses fade, the world around her fades, and she melts into the bed, deep into sleep.

The sounds of chirping birds wake the girl up. She's in bed, covered in cum, in a girl's lacy panties. The woman she met at the party before is putting her top on when she notices the girl woke up. “Oh hi sweetheart, I need to go, stuff to do. You should go back to sleep if you don't need to get up early.”

The girl shakes her head, she has no where to be. “But..I don't want you to go...”

“Awww,” she coos at the girl, “but I have to my sweet girl.” The woman picks up her bag and pulls a pen out of it. She looks around the room for something to write on, finally deciding to just write it on the girl's arm. “This is my number. Text me sometime.” The girl nods, excited. The party worked, she got a friend!

She escorts the woman to the living room, but before the woman leaves, she reaches into her bag again and pulls out two pill bottles and puts them in the girl's hand. "Take two of these a day.”

“What do they do?” The girl asks.

The woman motions at her body, “they do this. It'll make you the girl you've wanted to be.”

“I'm not a girl.” It was automatic. She didn't even intend to say it.

“Ok, ok, girl adjacent. You can be whatever you want, but take those pills and it'll do it for you. I have extras so I might as well give them to you.”

The woman opens the door and as she exits the apartment, she turns around, “Also, you're going to clean those panties and give them back. It's a matching set, damn it, I can't just lose them” The girl, realizing finally that she's still covered in cum and in panties, goes red and finally closes the door in a panic.

The girl goes to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water before going back to her room. She stares at the pill bottles given to her. She opens the one bottle and takes a small blue pill out. She stares at it, trying to figure out what to do with it.

“I'm not a girl.” she says to herself, just before washing the blue pill down her throat.

[thankskenpenders]

Thoughts on two specific areas of the writing in Sonic X Shadow Generations

The best new 3D Sonic game in over a decade (or even two, depending on who you ask) dropped late last year. And I didn't write anything about it! Sometimes life happens. Well, I've finally sat down to finish Shadow Generations, and by now everyone has already been singing its praises for three months. This is the rare instance where the entire Sonic fandom, and even mainstream reviewers, are in agreement on something. The level design is the best it's been in a long, long time and the cool factor is off the charts, embracing Sonic's peak cringe era in an incredibly confident way. It's great. If you're even reading this post, you probably don't need me to tell you that. So I won't!

No, what I'm really interested in here is the writing. Because this is me we're talking about. But I actually don't want to talk about the main narrative of Shadow Generations, which is really solid little story about Black Doom trying to mold Shadow into his perfect soldier. No, I'd like to zero in on two other aspects of the writing here: the revisions made to Sonic Generations, and Gerald Robotnik's unlockable journal.

The updated Sonic Generations script

The new package mostly presents Sonic Generations how you remember it. There are some tweaks, but it's not a major overhaul. Graphically, I don't think the game has been touched much, if at all. I certainly can't notice any difference without a side-by-side comparison, despite playing it on a PS5. The most notable update is that the game's script has been rewritten by Ian Flynn.

Naturally, this caught my attention. Generations always had a nothingburger story, so with Ian rewriting Pontac and Graff's lame dialogue there was nowhere to go but up. (I don't like to pin the blame for those games' stories entirely on them, as a ton of it was dictated to them by Sonic Team, but, well, I don't think they're very good dialogue writers.) But it's less a complete rewrite and more like Ian was brought on as a script doctor for some minor touch ups here and there. Many lines of dialogue are completely identical to how they were originally written in 2011, and many others only have slight wording changes. Ian was clearly not allowed to request additional scenes or extend the ones that already existed. He has to match the original beat for beat so that they can reuse 99% of the cutscene animations. Don't expect it to be a whole new experience compared to the original.

Still, I think the new script is an improvement, albeit a minor one. Various things have been tweaked to maintain characterization consistency. Cream calls Sonic "Mr. Sonic" instead of just "Sonic." Instead of calling Sonic "buddy," Rouge uses the pet name "Blue," like she tends to do in things like the IDW comics. Espio doesn't have to remind you in the dialogue that he's a ninja, and he no longer has a line making it sound like he has some kind of soul reading power. I also like that Modern Sonic now actually has responses to what his friends say when he rescues them, rather than being silent like Classic Sonic. They won't blow you away, but they make Sonic feel a little more engaged with everything.

In general, the altered dialogue just seems tighter to me, and some of the more childish or trite wording of Pontac and Graff's script has been altered. Here, let's actually make a direct comparison, just because this stuff is interesting to me as a writer. Here's a couple lines from after the Egg Dragoon fight late in the game, in the original script:

Modern Eggman: Ooooh... I can't believe this! I was supposed to beat you this time. Modern Sonic: Aw, I'm sorry! I didn't get that memo. I beat you every time! [Turns to Classic Sonic] No, seriously, we beat this guy every time. It's like it's our job or something!

This is a simple exchange. Eggman is mad that he lost. Sonic is unflappably confident because he always beats Eggman, and he explains this to his younger self. But the wording here isn't particularly good. Eggman's simple and direct wording makes him come off like a little kid who's mad because his older brother beat him at Mario Kart, rather than a mad scientist who just had his plans foiled. It's making light of the situation.

And I've never liked Sonic saying "It's like it's our job or something!" That doesn't feel like a thing Sonic would say, it feels like a thing an outside observer would say about Sonic. This is a frequent problem with so-called "MCU dialogue," where quips meant to echo the commentary of a casual, somewhat disinterested audience are inserted into the story itself so that the writers can be like "See? We get it. We're genre-savvy, too!" It also just reminds me of bad Sonic Boom: Rise of Lyric lines like "Rings! It's like they're made for me!"

And then here's Ian's rewrite:

Modern Eggman: I recalibrated everything! This was supposed to be my time! Modern Sonic: Oh, please, keep dreamin', Egg-head. I beat you every time. [Turns to Classic Sonic] No, seriously, we beat him every time. Our score card's flawless.

Eggman's still mad about his defeat, but the line "I recalibrated everything!" makes it more specific. He put all this work into the engineering side of his latest scheme and got tunnel vision, thinking if he got his creations just right there'd be no way he could lose. "This was supposed to be my time!" also turns it into a time travel pun, which is a bonus. He's still pitching a fit over losing, but it feels more like Eggman pitching a fit, rather than sounding childish.

And then instead of saying that beating Eggman is "like his job or something," Sonic says he's got a flawless score card against Eggman. He doesn't take Eggman seriously as a threat—at least, not to his face. He acts like it's all a game. But he conveys this in a way that feels truer to the character, rather than feeling like the words of a real world observer poking fun at the tropes of the Sonic series.

Is this amazing, A+ dialogue that blows me away? No. Again, it's not a completely different scene from the one we already had. Ian had to fit the beats of what was already there. He couldn't go all out and write an all new story confirming his longstanding headcanon that the Time Eater is a remnant of Solaris or whatever. But the wording here makes the existing story land a little better and feel truer to the characters in subtle ways.

But to me, the main change is that the Sonics and Tailses seem to have a more solid understanding of what's going on with the timeline and the Time Eater, compared to how idiotic they sometimes seemed in the original game. Which is good! No more standing outside Green Hill and wondering why it seems so familiar. Thank god. As part of this, yes, there are a few more references to past games in the dialogue, like Sonic briefly being confused about the fact that they're time traveling without the Time Stones, or South Island and Westside Island being acknowledged as the normal locations of Green Hill and Chemical Plant. Yes, ha ha, insert joke about how Ian loves references here. Look, it's Sonic fucking Generations. It's a game built entirely out of nostalgic references. Just own it! And, again, in this instance Sonic and Tails come off as less stupid when they make it clear that they do, in fact, remember their adventures from presumably less than a year ago in-universe.

Eggman, too, seems to have a better understanding of the powers he's toying with. Where in the original vesion his focus was simply on going back in time to undo his previous defeats and he seemed kind of oblivious to how much the Time Eater was actually fucking up the universe, here Eggman says he wants to use the Time Eater to give himself complete control over the entire timeline. Eggman also makes way fewer references to his own failures and shortcomings. Of course he won't admit that Sonic has defeated him time and time again. To him, he's never truly lost—Sonic just keeps delaying the inevitable total victory for the Eggman Empire.

So, yes. The new Sonic Generations script is better. It won't blow anyone away, but it's better than it was. It's been elevated from "kinda lame" to "fine." No, if you really wanna see Ian flex his ability to breathe new life into old Sonic stories, look no further than...

Gerald Robotnik's Journal

Hoo boy.

The story of what happened aboard the ARK has always been... a bit confusing, to say the least. Fans with encyclopedic knowledge of the script for every route of Shadow '05 may disagree, but it's the truth. We've had all the pieces to understand the story for a long time now, but that info was given to us out of order by a pair of unreliable narrators—Gerald, who became a vengeful lunatic shortly before his death, and Shadow, who was subjected to multiple rounds of amnesia and altered memories. Some of the ambiguity left by Sonic Adventure 2 was cleared up in Shadow '05, but that game also retconned in a bunch of new elements to Shadow's backstory (aliens!) that lead to further confusion. Not to mention the fact that that game had multiple routes and only revealed the truth about Shadow if you sat on the ultimate final boss battle for WAY longer than the fight would normally last. Or the fact that Sonic X made its own tweaks in its telling of the story. Or the fact that none of these things ever had the best English translations. I can't blame anyone who hasn't played those games in two decades for not remembering the truth about these characters and getting some details mixed up.

What we needed was something to piece together all of the info we have into one coherent backstory, told in chronological order. And thanks to Shadow Generations, we have that, in the form of an official journal tying together what we knew from Sonic Adventure 2, Shadow '05, and Sonic Battle into the tragic tale of Gerald's rise and fall.

Ian Flynn was the perfect man for the job here as the guy who started his career by tidying up the mess that was the first 159 issues if Archie Sonic. This is what he excels at: taking disparate bits of weird Sonic lore from multiple different sources, boiling them down to their most interesting elements, and connecting it together in a way that will make the audience see the dramatic potential he's always known was there. Rather than feeling like a cynical exercise in franchise building, going back and explaining things that never needed explaining so that people can add more bullet points to the wiki, he puts a new spin on things that retroactively enriches those past stories. The story here means something to the characters involved and gives us a better understanding of them as people, rather than as plot devices to motivate Shadow.

(And, of course, Ian didn't do this journal alone. He wrote the story, but I also have to give a huge shout out to Evan Stanley, who made the final product. All of her handwritten journal entries, sketches, and "photos" included throughout. The physical damage done to the journal over the course of 50 tumultuous years, passing from Gerald to Eggman to a certain special someone at GUN. The way Gerald's handwriting gets less and less legible as his mental state declines. So much love was put into what could have been a mere text dump in a menu, and it really elevates it to the next level. Congrats on officially getting hired by Sega, Evan, you've sure as hell earned it!)

The main idea the journal conveys is that Gerald was under a lot of pressure from a lot of different parties—GUN, the President, his colleagues aboard the ARK, Black Doom, even his own family—and boy did it get to him. The known incidents aboard the ARK mentioned in previous games are put together here to form a story where everything slowly spirals out of control as Gerald keeps compromising his morals to further his research, thinking he'll eventually find some way out of all this because he's a genius. I won't recap that whole story here (if you haven't already played the game and read the journal entries, I would highly recommend at least reading it on the Sonic wiki), but I'd like to highlight my favorite elements of the story, as Ian tells it here.

1) The Eclipse Cannon

Here's something that never quite made sense in Sonic Adventure 2: why does the ARK have a laser that can blow up the Earth built into it? It was supposed to be a peaceful research colony. Sure, Gerald went crazy and swore revenge on the Earth, but, like... when did he have an opportunity to go back up to the ARK and modify it? Did he have someone else do it? How? The ARK was raided by GUN and shut down! And then they arrested him, held him in prison for an unclear period of time, and executed him by firing squad when he was no longer useful! It doesn't add up. Shadow 'the Hedgehog '05 would give its own answer by introducing the Black Arms and saying that the Eclipse Cannon was always supposed to be a secret trump card against the Black Comet. But, like... we know that's kind of a bullshit answer, right? You don't need enough power to blow up a whole planet just to destroy a comet.

Well, the new journal retains what we already knew, but it paints a much more complete picture.

See, long before Gerald ever made a Faustian bargain with Black Doom, he had already made one with an even greater evil: the military. GUN gave Gerald much of the funding for the ARK, Gerald's personal utopian research station in space, but it didn't take long for GUN to start pressuring him to design them weapons. Gerald tried to get GUN off his back by personally contacting the President of the United Federation, and the President gave him an alternative: how about, instead, you just use your genius brain to figure out the secret to immortality for us, so our soldiers can be immortal? Gerald was initially sickened by the notion and found it completely absurd, like chasing a shadow... but given no other option, the sarcastically named Project Shadow soon began in earnest. (Maria would later put a more positive spin on the name after Shadow's awakening, pointing out that a Shadow can show us the direction of the light, like she says in the game itself.)

Of course, this search for the ultimate life form didn't go very well, and without any results on that front GUN kept hounding him for weapons. Gerald would throw them a bone here and there to get them off his back. His research on Chaos resulted in the Artifical Chaos prototypes, which he worried would be used for warfare but could at least theoretically be used for search and rescue missions in floods, in his mind. But that wasn't enough. So he gave them Chaos Drives to power their mechs. And that still wasn't enough. He's got Emerl. He'll give them Emerl. They're not impressed by Emerl. They'll shut the whole ARK down if Gerald doesn't give them something big.

Fine! GUN wants something big? Gerald builds a huge fucking laser cannon into the ARK. However, as a middle finger to GUN, Gerald makes it so powerful that it would destroy the Earth if it was ever fired at any target on its surface. In other words, GUN now has their ultimate weapon of mass destruction, fulfilling his contract, but they can never actually use it. Oh, the delicious irony. (And also Shadow will blow up the Black Comet with it in 50 years yada yada yada.) Is this perhaps extremely shortsighted and naive of Gerald, to believe that such a weapon would never actually be used just because of the risk? Of course. But hey, that's Gerald for you. And I love this as an answer.

(Also, this, uh, kinda echoes something from real life! Remember the bit in Oppenheimer where he says all nuclear war will become unthinkable, and Edward Teller responds "until somebody builds a bigger bomb"? Yeah, Teller went on to conceptualize a superweapon codenamed Project Sundial that would have been able to kill all life on the planet, as the ultimate deterrent for war. This was never made for obvious reasons, but hey, there's a basis for this sort of thinking outside of heightened sci-fi! There's a whole Kurzgesagt video about this if you're interested.)

2) The Biolizard

The Biolizard is, of course, brought up as the initial failed prototype of the ultimate life form, from before Gerald met Black Doom. We don't really learn all that much about it that we didn't already know, but I just love the way it's framed in the story.

As you can see above, we actually get to see a picture of Maria holding up the cute little salamander that would end up mutating into the Biolizard through Gerald's experiments. (Researchers want to figure out how to replicate salamanders' regenerative abilities for humans in real life, too, so this was a natural starting point for the project.) And then, after it grows to a monstrous size and goes out of control, Gerald has to lock it away in an unused sector of the ARK. He needs to keep the poor thing alive for his research into harnessing Chaos Energy, building life support systems directly into it, but he doesn't have the heart to tell Maria what happened. So it just becomes this first dark secret weighing on his conscience. The Biolizard becomes Gerald's Tell-Tale Heart beating beneath the floorboards of the ARK. I love that.

3) Lost Impact was the breaking point for the ARK

Remember the level Lost Impact in Shadow '05? The flashback level on the hero path where Shadow is running around fighting Artificial Chaos enemies on the ARK 50 years ago? Yeah, that wasn't just a random incident. That was important, as we now know due to its placement on the timeline.

See, Emerl's rampage aboard the ARK that was chronicled in Sonic Battle and Dark Beginnings set off a domino effect. Emerl riled up the Artificial Chaos, causing Gerald to lose control of them. They became violent, and so Shadow had to stop them, as depicted in Lost Impact. The thing is, that incident sent an SOS signal to GUN telling them that shit was going down on the ARK. Gerald didsn't fully understand the trouble he was in and assumed that he'd simply be reprimanded by the higher ups, or maybe face legal action. But, well... the next time he heard from GUN, armed troopers were raiding the ARK.

So Lost Impact was the straw that broke the camel's back. I just really like that detail.

4) Maria

And, of course, there's Maria herself. Maria has often been more of a symbol than a character, this perfect embodiment of everything that's good and pure in this world who gets killed to motivate Shadow and Gerald's revenge plots. But I really like the wrinkles this journal adds to her and Gerald's story, and their relationship. This is the most fleshed out they've ever felt.

For one, the journal leans into the idea of Maria's intellectual potential. The rest of the Robotnik family is all geniuses, after all, and she was proving to be a really bright kid. She excelled in her studies on the ARK, and she even helped design Shadow's jet skates and inhibitor rings. When Maria died, the world didn't just lose a symbolic personification of purity. She genuinely could have been a hugely influential scientist who did so much good for the world. That's what Gerald wanted for her. But we'll never know, because GUN killed her.

Speaking of her family, their presence isn't just mentioned for the sake of fleshing out the Robotnik family tree. It's mentioned that as Gerald struggled to find a cure for Maria's illness through his genetic research, he faced mounting pressure from his family. They didn't want Maria to be up on the ARK forever. They wanted Gerald to hurry up and find a damn cure, or otherwise just send her back home to Earth so she could be with her family again. She'd been up on the ARK for so long that Gerald's coworkers started thinking that she had been born up there. Eventually she gains a baby sister on Earth who she's never met. A rift forms between Gerald's two sons, and he's unable to really deal with it because he's so consumed by his work. There's this sense that the family is falling apart, and that everyone is dreading the possibility that Gerald will never find a cure and that Maria will just spend her final years up in space and die far away from her family, because Gerald just couldn't let go. If that happens, it'll break the whole family. But he can't stop now. So he just keeps working. Curing Maria is the only way to win his family back, in his eyes. It can't all be for nothing.

But my favorite detail regarding Maria is this one paragraph:

Maria is growing into a lovely young woman. It breaks my heart that someone as bright and energetic as her is diminished by disease. There are no visible effects, and I've caught my fellow researchers muttering to each other, doubting her illness. It is infuriating. I find all my reason and restraint vanishes when she's slighted.

This is SUCH a great addition to the story! It's always been true that Maria doesn't really seem all that ill, just looking at her in cutscenes. With this one little comment, Ian flips that issue on its head and turns it into a story about invisible disability. She doesn't act like she's in chronic pain, so she must not be, everyone thinks. And this really, really gets to Gerald, as does the pressure from his family. He's dedicating his whole LIFE to saving her, and they think she's faking it?! It's such a small addition, never referenced elsewhere in the journal, but it adds so much flavor to the story, as does the implied family drama. It grounds Gerald and Maria and makes them feel more like real human beings, rather than being pure archetypes. It's just enough info to let my imagination run wild filling in the blanks.

You also get the feeling that Maria being such a walking ray of sunshine was the only real source of joy Gerald had left in his life before Shadow was awakened, and the only thing keeping him from snapping under pressure sooner. All this stuff just keeps piling on, everything's spiraling out of control, but at least Maria is keeping her chin up, right? It makes so much sense that losing her would make him go off the deep end when it's framed like this.

It's just... man, I never thought I'd care so much about Gerald and Maria. But that's the Ian Flynn touch. After years of less than stellar Sonic writing that seemed to be embarrassed of itself, I'm so happy to have new games coming out that fully embrace the history of the series like this, making its world feel so rich and real instead of just serving as an excuse for a string of platforming levels. I don't even like Shadow '05, but I'll be damned if Ian and the rest of Sonic Team didn't make something amazing by "yes, and"-ing Shadow's cringe past here. Sonic has truly reached levels of "we're so back" never thought possible.

[bunjywunjy]

I just found out about the existence of orchid bees! What can you tell me about them?

sure! orchid bees are weird tiny shiny solitary bees that spend their time pretty much like all solitary bees do, hunting for nectar and trying not to get eaten by birds.

but when a female orchid bee is selecting from her bouquet of suiters, she really only has one thing in mind- his smell!

the smelliest males are the most attractive to her, for god only knows what secret bee reason, so accordingly the male bees spend pretty much all their time finding things with strong smells and then. rolling in them.

this does include pleasant things like flowers, yes, but also some weirder stuff like fungi and tree sap. if they made an Eu De Bee it would probably smell pretty pungent to us!

not that they shouldn't do that. I am in favor of Eu De Bee

so a male bee healthy enough to range far and wide dunking his stubby little shiny butt in whatever smells interesting is what carries the day, for the females! she will mate with him and lay some eggs about it.

also they sleep suspended with their jaws clamped onto random shit, like this

[kabr0ztrousers]

hey could you write about a pussy portal? with whatever monster you feel like! also could it be semi-public (public but hidden)? also knotting is appreciated!

Kabr0z Writes episode 53: Hornyposting

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: portal sex; knotting; public sex; cum in vagina; unknown male; freeuse; recieving cunnilingus; age gap; implied impregnation; interspecies; portal fucking

A/N: I do love writing portal fucking, though I'm not sure I understood the prompt properly on this one, so enjoy reading about fem!reader being fucked by a knotted cock while falling to avoid notice

Also, any requests etc, please drop an ask!

#######################################

When you bought something called a "telepresence glory hole" you weren't honestly expecting what you got. It arrived OK, and came with a phonebook of a disclaimer which you didn't bother reading. What was really interesting was, it actually seemed legit. In the box you got a pair of panties, and a handheld device that looked kinda like a fleshlight. Both had strange disks integrated to them made of some kind of metal. You spent the next hour going through the manual, registering them to a phone app and generating a friend code.

Testing went without a hitch, you plugged the friend code into the app, and the link established with a faint buzz. Next came the fun part. You broke the link, before taking to the internet. Would you believe there's a whole community centred around these things?

You got changed, a nice sundress to go out in, those panties underneath. A quick picture later and you posted your selfie and your code, out in the aether. You set off, walking to the cafe, locking the app as you left. For the next 4 hours, you're open for business.

The bell on the café door jingled as it opened. The local corporate chain, you weren't going to risk getting chucked out of a café you actually liked, but even if the coffee sucked here the wifi's free and there's plenty of people around. You joined the back of the line and inched towards the counter.

You felt a draft down below. A breath across your cunt. There were still a few people ahead of you. A shiver ran up your spine, it's starting already.

A wide tongue grazed your outer lips, starting slowly. You tensed your cunt a little to egg whoever this was on. You'd said in your post that you were up for any guy to give you a fuck, though maybe you hadn't mentioned what you'd be up to in the meantime... But that's very much what things like this were designed for, nobody's wearing these for a quiet night in.

The tongue came again, holding back a little less this time, coating the outside of your pussy in drool as it licked up and down your-

"Hi! What can I get for you?" The rictus grin of the cashier snapped you out of your thoughts

"C-cappuchino please. Large" you stammered out, speaking fast to try and avoid your voice giving you away.

You paid noiselessly, tapping your card on the machine which beeped compliantly before stepping over to the other counter with your receipt and the order number printed on it.

The tongue got more aggressive. Your knee buckled as it circled your clit. You squeezed your eyes shut a moment as it threatened to slip into your eager hole. You leaned on a low wall behind you, trying to look nonchalant as you checked your forum post.

WolfDaddy1969 had replied to you "Don't need to tell me twice" was this the person so diligently licking you out? He didn't have a profile picture. God, but whoever this was, they're good with their tongue. You rolled your head backwards in ecstasy, trying to disguise it by rubbing the back of your neck, but the quiet whimper you gave drew the eye of the suited woman beside you as she stepped forward to grab a tray of paper cups.

"Order 42, large cappuccino, regular milk"

Your legs threatened to betray you as you as you stepped up and took the almost litre cup of coffee with your order number stuck to it. You turned to try and find a table, almost stumbling as you did. The movement was shifting your pussy lips, moving them subtly against one another as the tongue pushed between them. You fell into a seat, legs spread. You could feel moisture leaking around the edges of the portal, the combination of drool and your pussy juice starting to slick your crotch.

The tongue had barely let up before you felt something else pressing against you. Hard and drooling, there was no mistaking it. You'd been with a lupine before, you knew how they start squirting precum almost as soon as you get them hard. You imagined it, if this wolf really was born in the late 60's then he'd have been in his thirties before you were even conceived... It turned you on knowing this cock was old enough to be your father.

He pushed in, or maybe down? Your pussy making up the business end of the toy he was fucking himself with. He slid in easily. Your toes curled in your shoes as you gripped the table in front of you, clenching your teeth as he started fucking you properly. He angled his toy, only slightly but enough that you could feel him thrust up into your g-spot before continuing into you. Despite your efforts, you could feel yourself making small, choked sounds with every thrust. His thumb hit your clit. You groaned as your legs started to shake, failing to hide your release as people started to take notice. A mix of worried and disgusted looks fixed upon you, some people clearly having an idea of what was happening.

The cock filled you up. The clenching of your aching cunt getting to the cock inside you. You felt the knit start to inflate. It was pulsing so deliciously, your mouth sagged open in a silent wail of delight and release.

The cashier from before was next to you "I think you should leave" his smile was gone, he just looked tired.

You nodded and got up, The movement of your legs rolling the swollen knot inside you, forcing you to walle away, your drink forgotten as you tried to ignore the mix of arousal and cum dripping down your legs.

The outside air was cold on your skin, the wetness covering your thighs stinging as it cooled in the brisk February air. At least you're within walking distance of home, though it's anyone's guess if you'd get back before the wolf was done with you.

He was still using you to jerk off, the knot thrusting up and down as you tried to walk, dictating the rhythm of your steps. You weren't hiding your noises any more either, there were fewer people on the suburban streets, but every one of them knew you had something going on down there. Some hurried on, some threw dirty looks, one or two gave wolf whistles and catcalls, only making you wetter.

You were halfway home when the knot started twisting in you, this way and that. You grabbed a lamppost as you moaned out, trying desperately to keep from falling as your knees gave way and your cunt gave another squirt of girlcum. He turned his cock again and again, feeling how you clenched and milked his knot, wringing every morsel of cum from him, before withdrawing with a pop.

That tongue came back. You slid down the pole, landing on your knees as the wolf licked deep inside you, tasting his cum as it mixed with your essence. You could swear it hit your cervix as you groaned and whined for all to see.

The tongue withdrew. The portal shut off and you were alone again, leaking onto the floor underneath you. You staggered to your feet, still clinging to the street furniture as you got your breath back. Legs still shaking, pussy still twitching, you got home.

The portal buzzed to life again. You checked your post. You'd been pinned to the front page, it looks like WolfDaddy left you a glowing review "10/10, tight pussy, would impregnate again"

You were going to have a lot of fun with this

#################################

There's a little narrative dissonance between where it started and where it went here, but I thought it shook out pretty well, and you're not here for tight editing.

As always, any requests, ideas, thoughts, questions or fanmail is appreciated! My DMs and asks remain open for use!

Also, see below for a surprise poll!

[g4rvez-r3id]

Anything for Ellie

Spencer Reid x Single Mom!Reader

Synopsis: Your daughter, Ellie’s birthday is coming up and you plan on baking a cake for her. But when you accidentally break the eggs you just bought, your handsome neighbor, Spencer comes to your rescue.

Category: Fluff

Warnings: post prison! spencer, pictures above don’t indicate how reader is supposed to look! reader’s ex is a piece of shit, spencer lowkey being a dad, mentions of cheating and divorce, reader’s daughter being kind of a wingwoman, mentions of the prison arc but they’re brief, (spencer’s been gone for three months and reader has no idea why), mutual pining, reader’s daughter having an absent father, minor angst, a minor mention of maeve, baking- i think that covers it 🤷‍♀️

Author’s Note: hey lovelies! i’m a sucker for single mom!reader x spencer reid so here it is! will most likely make a part two <3

part one

“Mommy, can I help?” Your almost-five year-old, Ellie begged, reaching her arms up to grab anything you’d been holding. You both had gone to the store and were now coming up the stairs back to your apartment after getting what you needed.

Ellie was turning five in a few days here and had wanted a big birthday party with all of her friends in your apartment. You’d wanted to go all out for your little one, wanting her to have the best birthday party ever.

It’d only been a year since you and your ex had signed divorce papers. While you were married, he was off screwing his assistant at the banking firm he worked in. And you’d caught them in the act, on your bed. You were devastated to say the least. But in a way, it felt like a relief.

Let’s just say, you weren’t happy in your marriage. Your ex wasn’t very helpful when it came to your marriage. He’d nitpick every single thing that made you you, called you a hot mess every now and again and was never appreciative of anything you did for him. And another thing — he was a good dad, just not a very present one. Ever since she was born, it seemed like he wasn’t interested in the parenthood. He’d let down Ellie over a gazillion times and you weren’t sure he’d be able to keep his promise about showing up for her birthday party. There was always something more important and that wasn’t fair to you or to Ellie.

So, you did what you could, scraped up money you had saved and got an apartment in D.C., you’d rather be happy homeless than co-exist with him further. You’d luckily found a quaint apartment, two bedrooms and even managed to snag a bakery job with the help of your friends. Things were turning up for you and for Ellie.

“Here, why don’t you grab this bag?” You say, handing her a paper bag of the plastic cups, plates, napkins and utensils since it was probably the one thing you could trust her to hold.

Ellie had been singing a song, about how she was turning five and she kept reminding you that her birthday was in a few days and how excited she was. You loved that she’d been excited for it. You remembered the day she was born vividly. You were in labor for fourteen hours with no help from your ex, since he was asleep the majority of Ellie’s birth but every minute was worth it to have a little you by your side. You were lucky enough that Ellie was blessed with your genes and had soon enough become your little twin.

You made your way to the door, trying to reach for your keys in your pocket but the paper bags were in your way and you didn’t want to drop one of the bags since it had the eggs you were going to use to bake Ellie’s cake and you didn’t want to break them. You groan as you try to reach in your pocket without trying to drop the bags but your hand slips and down goes the paper bag with the eggs and you wince as you hear the eggs crack.

“Oh, no.” You sigh as you bend down pick up the mess. You’d have to hold off on baking Ellie’s cake tomorrow night, the day before the party. You’d been a bit of a perfectionist and just wanted to bake the cake a few days before.

You nearly thought about crying in front of your soon-to-be five year-old over cracked eggs when a shadow stood over you and your daughter. “Hi, Mr. Spencer!” Your daughter greeted your next door neighbor with a wave and you looked up and did a double-take as you saw the tall lanky man stand over you. He was wearing a brown sweater, black slacks and converse, holding his mail in his hands. But to be honest, he looked a little different. Hence, the double-take.

“Hi, Ellie! Everything okay over here?” Spencer asked as he kneels down to help you clean the mess you made. Ellie answers for you, “No, my mommy broke the eggs.”

You look up at Spencer. “Hi, Spencer. We’re all good here,” You manage to say as you scrape up the bag. “I’m just…” You throw your arms around. “As you know, a bit of a klutz.” You look over at your daughter. “Looks like we’re gonna have to bake the cake tomorrow night, Ellie.”

You stand up and Spencer and you’re still shocked at the fact that even standing, he’s still taller than you. His hair was wild with chocolate locks, with warm yet tired brown eyes and stubble growing on his face. He was always gorgeous.

It’d been a while since you’d seen Spencer, living next door to him for over a year now. For about three months, he’d completely disappeared and you almost wondered if maybe he moved but standing in front of you, clearly he didn’t.

You manage to grab your keys out of your pocket while holding the bags but Spencer had come to your rescue and managed to grab both of the bags from your arms and you unlock the front door, Ellie running inside, to mess around no less. You turn back to your neighbor and give him a small yet appreciative smile as you take your bags back from his hands. “Thank you, Spencer.”

“No problem.” The man says. You look at him and squint your eyes and Spencer gives you a confused look. “Sorry, I don’t mean to stare, it’s just… it’s been a while. You look a little… different.” You admit and his face falters for a moment. “It’s a good different, I promise you.”

Your downstairs neighbor, Rita — a seventy year-old woman who lived alone with a dozen cats — had a theory that Spencer may have been abducted by aliens. Granted, she was a senile old lady that watched too many UFO shows but it made you wonder why he disappeared for a minute. You knew he was an FBI agent, his job must’ve been too demanding because you’d hadn’t seen him until now.

“So, where have you been? Ellie and I have missed you.” You smile and Spencer opens his mouth and it looks like there are gears running through his head and he shrugs, “Oh, just… a vacation. Of sorts.”

A vacation, of sorts. Huh. You start to wonder if maybe Rita is right about an alien abduction. You nod, not knowing how to respond to that and luckily, your daughter is a good icebreaker because she comes rushing back to the front door where you are talking with Spencer. “Spencer! I’m turning five in this many days!” She tells him, holding three fingers up.

“Oh, wow!” Spencer bends down to her level. “You doing anything special for your birthday, Ellie?” Ellie nods once more, “Yes! We’re having a big birthday party for me and I’m gonna get a lot of presents and cake!” This then causes your daughter to turn to you. “Mommy, can’t we bake the cake, now?” Ellie begs, beaming her signature puppy eyes that make you say ‘yes’ to anything for her.

“I’m sorry, babe, I broke the eggs so we’re gonna have to wait until tomorrow when I can go to the store to get eggs to bake the cake, okay?” You ask, running a hand through her hair and she looks down in sadness. The last thing you wanted was to make her sad.

“Uh, actually,” Spencer speaks up. “I have eggs, if you’d like to have them to bake your cake.” He offers and you shake your head, surprised he offered. “Oh, thank you for the kind offer, but it’s alright.”

“No, take them,” Spencer insists. “I don’t need them and if I use them, they’re not going to be good anyways, since I can’t really cook anything.” He chuckles to himself but you still have hesitation written on your face. Spencer sees it, tilting his head to meet your eyes and pushes — “I insist.”

He always knew what to say, how to fix the issue. The first time you met, you had gone over to his apartment to ask if he had any juice since it was the only thing Ellie wanted to drink when she was sick and you’d just run out. Luckily, Spencer had had juice and formally introduced himself to you. Since that day, he never forgot you. He never forgot the way your hair was sticking out of your messy bun, that you were wearing a pastel pink robe and mismatched socks, like he did often. It was then that he wanted to get to know you. Luckily, you baked him cookies as a token of your gratitude the next day and the rest was history.

“Take the eggs, Mama! Take the eggs!” Ellie begs as she bounces, grabbing you by your arm and you finally give in, “Okay, I’ll definitely pay you back for the eggs. I do appreciate this a lot, Spencer.” You tell and he nods, “Hey, what are neighbors for? I’ll go get those for you, right now.”

Spencer heads back to his apartment as you and Ellie make your way inside of yours and you place your bags on the counter and take a breather. Spencer is gone for at least ten to fifteen seconds before showing back up with the eggs, like he said he would get for you.

“Here you are.” He says, handing the carton to you. “You really didn’t have to do this, Spencer. Your generosity…” You trail off but he shakes his head, “It’s really no problem. Just as long as you have me with a cup of sugar.” He jokes and you laugh along with him.

Suddenly, Ellie appears behind you and looks at your neighbor and asks, “Spencer, will you help me and my mom bake my birthday cake?” You look down at your daughter. Her spark and confidence was something you definitely didn’t pass down onto her.

Spencer responds with nothing except wide eyes and an open mouth. You’re quick to jump in and speak for him. “Spencer probably has other things to attend to, Ellie.” You look back at him. “You definitely don’t have to.”

“Please, Spencer! Please!” Ellie begs with puppy eyes and you look at him and joke — “Don’t fall for her puppy eyes. She gets away with a lot around here because of them.” Spencer chuckles and looks at you, “Uh, if it’s okay with you. I really don’t mind staying.”

You raise your brows, “You don’t?” Spencer shakes his head, “Yeah, why not spend my time with a four-year-old princess and her beautiful mother?” He jokes and you will your cheeks not to turn a shade of crimson at the beautiful comment. Him thinking you were beautiful made your stomach churn and your heart skip a beat.

You stared at him. There was something in his eyes that was tired and sad, like he needed this. He was never like that, usually his eyes lit up and to some degree they did, but you worried for him silently, especially since he sort of dodged the question about you asking where he was. You decide for him to stay, to which Ellie excitedly grabs him by his hands.

“Come on!” Ellie drags Spencer as she pulls him towards the kitchen and he lets her. “El, what do we do before we start baking?” You ask her. “Wash our hands!” Ellie says and grabs a chair to stand over the sink as you put soap into her hands and you look at Spencer as he makes his way over to the sink and put soap into his hands as well and you do the same.

Ellie grabs her apron that you bought her for baking so she doesn’t get it all over her clothes and you put on your baking apron and you all soon begin.

You put the ingredients together, consisting of sugar, flour, cocoa powder, baking powder and baking soda and you let Ellie do the mixing as you begin to work on the frosting.

“Mr. Spencer?” Ellie asks the man standing next to you as you work your magic. “Yes, Ellie?” Spencer asks, dividing his attention to her. “Where were you?” You turn to your daughter, wondering where that came from. But with her nosy nature, you aren’t very surprised by the question.

“Uh, I was working, Ellie. You remember my job.” Spencer speaks softly to her, reminding her. “Right, you’re a spy.” Ellie says as she continues to mix. “I am a spy, yeah.” Spencer chuckles a bit as he replies.

He is quick to then change the subject before Ellie can ask anymore questions. “Let me ask you this, Ellie, do you want to see a magic trick?” He did this often when Ellie needed focus her attention on something else, it helped stimulate her brain, Spencer claimed when he did it the first time he’d ever witness her have a meltdown.

“Oh, Ellie, you love magic.” You comment. Ellie had a moment where all she was into was cartoons and she’d recently just watched Strange Magic and had fallen in love with the concept of fairytales and such. In fact, the party was fairy-themed, wanting her friends to dress up as fairies.

“Would you like to see a magic trick?” Spencer asks and Ellie nods vehemently and Spencer looks around and finds a piece of paper and looks around for a pen, which he finds on your counter and shows Ellie the items. “Now, watch the pen.”

He quickly stabs the pen through the paper, making Ellie gasp and the pointer side of the pen is on the other side of the paper and Spencer tilts and pulls the pen from the paper and the pen isn’t broken and the paper doesn’t even have a dent in it.

“Wow!” Ellie exclaims. “How did you do that?” Spencer shakes his head, “A magician never reveals his secrets.”

Your heart skips a beat as Spencer treats your daughter like she’s his own, almost. Your ex wasn’t good with kids, which was probably why he didn’t bother having a good relationship with Ellie. But Spencer, since the day you met, seemed to always have an affinity with kids. He loved watching over Ellie and he was so caring and trustworthy. You’d almost wished Spencer was Ellie’s father instead, considering her biological one wasn’t very present in her life.

“You done mixing the powder there, kiddo?” You ask, taking those thoughts out of your head and she nods, “Yes, Mama.”

“Alrighty, wanna help me whisk the frosting?” It was Ellie’s favorite part after all. “Spencer, do you like chocolate cake?” Ellie asked as she made her way over to you and you sat her on the counter. “I do. My favorite donuts are actually chocolate with rainbow sprinkles.” Ellie beams with excitement at that, “That’s my favorite, too!”

After a while, you finally finish baking the cake yourself since Ellie seems so cooped up on Spencer and showing him her room upgrade since she recently wanted to fill the walls with posters, and she wanted to show him her new toys and she had him show magic tricks to her.

Eventually, Ellie grows tired and winds up falling asleep on the couch. As you tuck her into bed, you find Spencer cleaning up your kitchen and you smile to yourself. He was always such a neat freak, perhaps you liked that about him. “You don’t have to do that.” You say, making your presence known and the man turns to you with a shrug. “I don’t mind.”

You begin to help as you wipe down your counter. It’s quiet for a moment before you speak again. “You, uh, you were wonderful with Ellie today. You sure you don’t have any kids?” You joke.

Spencer shakes his head with a sly chuckle, “No, I don’t.” You raise your brows, still messing with him. “Oh, yeah, no, I do have a few godsons, though. Henry and Michael. And then, my old colleague’s friend named his son after me. I guess you could say I’m just good with kids.” He tells and you smile.

“You’re a natural at it.” You compliment as you throw away the paper towels you used to clean your counter.

You think to yourself as you guys go quiet once more. And then you decide to carry on the conversation with a question Ellie wanted you to ask Spencer. “Oh, uh, when I was putting Ellie to bed, she wanted me to ask you if maybe you’d like to attend her birthday party this Saturday. You totally don’t have to come, but she wanted me to ask anyways.”

Spencer ponders this for a moment, “Work depending, sure, I’d love to.” He narrows his eyes for a second. “Something tells me she’ll always do the ruling around here.” He jokes and it makes you chuckle. “Yeah, yeah, that’s kind of how it is.”

There’s a moment as the two of you pause and he stares at you with a wondering look. You seem to be gazing back at him. To be honest, Spencer had had a crush on you since the day you came to his door asking for juice.

Of course, before then, they’d lived next door for a while and Ellie was pretty loud behind those thin walls since she was a kid and you most likely encouraged her to be playful and there were times when it was quiet in his apartment and all he could hear was your laughter and hers. And he wondered who was on the other side of that wall. He hadn’t experienced a childhood such as Ellie’s and he was left wondering if he’d ever be able to have something like that. And wondered what it was like for Ellie to have such a wonderful mother.

“How are things… with you?” Spencer asks and you shrug, “Same old, same old. Ellie has been a riot. I swear, she’s into something new everyday.” Spencer pauses you for a second. “Y/n,” He spoke. “I asked how you were doing.”

Your breath catches in your throat and you swallow the lump that has formed. You’d never been used to getting asked that question. You often deflected, talking about Ellie since she was your pride and joy. Spencer had profiled you — knowing he probably shouldn’t have — and had theorized that you only talked about Ellie just to not talk about yourself. It often stemmed from a fear of judgment or vulnerability, he knew. He knew why it was like that for you, not having a very present ex that could care less about you and your daughter and only striving to be strong for Ellie. He wished he could take your pain away, especially after learning your story.

“I’m…” You think for a moment. How were you doing? Truly? “I’m okay, I guess. I’ve just been… stressed. But who isn’t?” You shrug. “I’m a single mom, working at a bakery 24/7 and when she has her days off, she spends them with her kid.” You tell.

This leads to Spencer’s next question. “Will, uh,” Spencer clears his throat. “Will Ellie’s dad be making an appearance at this party?” You sigh, rubbing your temples, something you did often before talking about your ex. “He promised he’ll try but that’s code for ‘maybe not’.”

Spencer frowns and you shake your head, “I just wish he could be a good dad for once. Show up on time, be there for his kid. No matter what happened between us, I still want Ellie to have her dad around. Just the other day, she was asking if she even had one.” The thought made Spencer upset and even brought you back to tears again, when you thought about the day that she asked.

“Well, if you ask me, he’s missing out.” Spencer told and you could tell it was genuine. “On you and Ellie.” You give him a small smile, he always seemed to know what to say to make you feel better. It was Spencer’s specialty, being your personal therapist and trying to make you feel better in every way, shape or form.

You look at him. You wonder what he’s been through, where he’s been. It seems like his thoughts are misplaced, seem to be elsewhere. His eyes are hiding something and he’s keeping his guard up. And with this new look, this rough side of things, you wonder if he barely made it out alive.

“Spencer?” You ask and he hums, looking at you. “You’ve been gone for three months.” You say and he looks down at his hands. “Were you like… undercover or something?” He rubs his hands on his pants and he’s looking anywhere but you, now.

“Would it be alright if… maybe we didn’t talk about it?” Spencer asks and you nod, “Yeah, yeah, totally. I get it.” And you did, there were things about you that you were hiding from Spencer, too. “I’ll tell you eventually, it’s just… it’s still fresh.” He admitted. You nodded, “Of course.” You’d been patient and you’d wait until he was comfortable and ready to tell you where he was for those three months.

“Uh, I should— I should go.” Spencer tells, standing fully and beginning to walk towards your door before looking back at you. “Does Ellie still like princesses? I want to get her a gift.” He tells and you nod, “She’s into fairies now, but she’ll love anything you get her. You totally don’t need to get her anything, by the way.”

“Nonsense,” Spencer shakes his head. “What time is the party on Saturday?”

“At two.” You smile. “I will hopefully be there.” Spencer says.

He opens your door, you following behind as you watch him go out into the hall. “Thanks for letting us use your eggs.” You say, handing him back the carton of eggs. He’d only had about two left now. “It’s no problem. Anything for Ellie, right?” You nod in agreement, “Anything for Ellie.”

You both exchange your goodbyes and Spencer goes back to his apartment and you shut your door. You smile to yourself as you get ready to settle down and relax.

You think of Spencer as you do so. Since the year you’ve lived here, you may have harbored a crush on the man. And why wouldn’t you fall for him? Spencer was such a good guy. He was trustworthy, he was more of a dad to Ellie than her own father was. But you knew better. Spencer had known your baggage, how could he be attracted to you? A single mother, who could barely pay her rent. As much as you wanted to be loved — the way you deserved to be — that was just never gonna happen. And that was the way it was gonna have to be, unfortunately. You’d rather have him as a friend than ever blow it with him.

But little did you know, Spencer was other side of the walls, thinking about you. He’d always had a thing for you. You were so caring and kind and wonderful. Not to mention your little girl, who had so easily won Spencer’s heart with her charm. Why wouldn’t he like you? But he knew what it would lead to. After Maeve, he pretty much believed he wasn’t capable of love again. You proved him wrong. But after him being gone for three months — due to him being at Milburn Correctional Facility, being framed for a crime he didn’t commit — he supposed that would be too much to put on you. And he didn’t want you carrying that his baggage when it was already so heavy.

If only you two knew what the other was thinking.

[luveline]

more hotch with teacher!reader? maybe she’s trying to take a bunch of things into her classroom one morning and hotch jumps in to help (and flirt with) them :)) i adore you’re writing thank you for sharing sm with us lately!!!

you’re so welcome ily ty for requesting! <3 fem, 1k

Today, you and your class are going to make dioramas with a heavy focus on paper crafting. For the last few days, you’ve helped them make plans on what they want to create, and then you scoured the internet for origami and craft tutorials to suit. The only one you couldn’t find was for poor Jamie’s tractors. You’ll figure it out, you’re sure. 

You’ve been saving cardboard boxes, toilet roll inserts, and egg cartons for months. There’s a total mountain of things to bring in, so you’re here early. You figure if you carry huge armfuls, you can get everything inside in three trips. 

“Oh,” you say, as a cardboard box tumbles to the ground, and somehow doesn’t give you a clearer view, “whoops. I’ll pick that up. Jeez.” 

You step over it and almost slip. 

“Careful,” someone says. 

You jump and send an egg carton skittering across the floor. “Oh, gosh! You scared me!” You twist your head, the cardboard that had been resting on your face falling down into your collar. “Oh, Mr. Hotchner.” 

Of course it’s Mr. Hotchner. Aaron, predictably. 

“Aaron,” he says, leaning down to grab the things you’ve dropped, before he opens his arm toward you. You lean away from your tower, embarrassed but relieved when he takes the bulk of your tall tower from you. 

“Thank you, Aaron. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here so early. Is everything okay?” 

“Let me help you with this.” 

Avoiding the question. You and Aaron carry your cardboard inside to the classroom, where you unlock your door (and you never would’ve been able to do without his rescue). He follows you to the arts and crafts table toward the back of the room, and you deposit your stock. 

“Thank you,” you say when he places his armful down. 

“It’s no problem. Can I help with the rest?” 

“Would you, please?” you ask. “It seemed a lot less before today.” 

You bring the rest back in. He’s the picture of a perfect gentleman and carries more than you each time, which isn’t to say you can’t have carried the same as he did, but it’s nice for once to be the one looked after. As a teacher, you get used to giving. 

He doesn’t make you ask him twice. “I’m here early because I wanted to talk with you if you’re free, before I head into the office.” 

“His Aunt is bringing him today?” you ask about Jack. 

“I didn’t manage to get home in time last night to see him, but I’ll be here at pick up time.” 

You nod, hyper aware that you’d swayed the conversation again. “Sorry, what were you saying?” 

“It’s about Jack. Well, it’s mostly about me. I’d like to ask you for a favour, if you’re willing.” 

“Oh, sure. Of course.” 

“You haven’t heard it yet.” 

You flush under the weight of his knowing smile. “No, I mean, I’m sure it’ll be fine. So…” 

“It’s hard sometimes to get Jack to tell me what you’re doing in school. I had no idea he’d be making dioramas today. And I don’t need your lesson plans, I’d never expect that of you, but I was hoping you could summarise the week for me on Fridays? Or whenever you can. I don’t need updates on how Jack is progressing, it could be a couple of words on the topics you’ve chosen, just so I know what he’s doing while I’m away.” 

You’ve never been asked to do it. Parents of kids in the second grade aren’t usually clocked in on what their kids are learning. School is still half fun at this age, your most important job is to make sure they can all read with acceptable fluency. And it’s hard because their parents don’t help, but it’s fine. You love teaching them something so important, and you’re ecstatic to meet someone who’s actually interested. 

You beam. “Yeah, of course I can. I can do that, I don’t mind. Nobody ever wants to know what we’re doing, which is such a shame! I mean, they’re so excited and of course their parents care, but if they have just a little bit of support it makes a huge difference. I can totally send you my lesson plans, Aaron. I’d like to.” You laugh to yourself smugly. “I never get to show them off. They’re extensive. And they take ages.” 

“You want to show them off?” he asks softly. 

His voice is velveteen. 

“Is that awful?” you ask.

“No, it makes sense. You really don’t have to if it’s too much trouble, but I… feel guilty, when I call him and ask how school was, and he can’t remember what happened.” 

“Don’t feel bad about that. The kids can’t remember what I told them ten minutes ago.” 

He isn’t like you, in that he’s very still. He doesn’t move or fidget, which makes his looking at you all the more obvious. “Thank you,” he says. 

“You’re welcome.” 

“Can I pay you back?” 

You catch one of your bracelets and twist it around your wrist. 

Aaron told you without hesitation that he profiles criminals. He can read their expressions, habits, and idiosyncrasies as thoughts and feelings. He can trace movement to the source. You’re positive he wouldn’t keep asking you such leading questions, or insist you call him by his first name every time you see him, if he didn’t already know that you find him attractive. 

“How would you do that?” you ask. 

“Is there anything else you… need help with?” 

A million things, but you’re no idiot. You can read subtlety too. 

“Well, I have a bunch of textbooks on the top shelf in the stockroom you could help me with.” You smile shyly. “It gets hot in there, though.” 

He begins taking off his suit jacket. “That,” he says, his gaze on you with all the tenderness and amusement of someone who’s known you longer, “won’t be a problem.” 

[erose-this-name]

Can we just talk about how disturbing digital circus episode 3 is?

*spoilers btw*

Like, the whole narrative point of the adventure is to show that Caine is a really bad and insecure writer who thinks that the way to impress Zooble is with an adventure that's the opposite of what he normally does.

So instead of being childish, it's "cool" and "mature". Which he interprets as a heavily horror themed escape room with a split murder mystery plot that subverts all your expectations purely for the sake of subverting them.

The generic horror monster jump scares them, then they find a gun, and when they kill it its revealed that surprise! it's one of Gods angels and they're going to Hell.

It comes off as Caine being too insecure with the actually interesting and mature plot thread he had going there of Mildenhall becoming so paranoid he killed his wife, ironically becoming the monster he was trying to protect her from. But no, instead Mr. Mildenhall is made to be the bad guy and trick them in a really dumb twist ending.

Which is good! Thats exactly what Caine would do because he's stupid! It's such brilliant characterization and comedy, Goose works is a genius writer!

But like, why is Caine so good at making genuinely very disturbing and horrific visuals? Like, that reversed audio easter egg of Bubble saying he can't wait for all the children in the audience get nightmares is no joke, well it is but you know what I mean. This stuff was genuine nightmare fuel.

Honestly, it wasn't the visuals that scared me, like any good queer person I'm way too jaded on survival horror for that.

But, why does Caine, who is ostensibly a sapient AI designed to generate family friendly video games for very little children, (presumably because that's the only demographic that wouldn't mind the AIs very selective plot writing limitations), know about the cosmic horror of killing an angel that should not have been killed?

Why does he know what a horrificly poorly made taxidermy of not only a human face would look like, but the weird cartoon faces of the characters, and further that seeing your own poorly made taxidermy face would be scary?

Imaging what being possessed felt like for Pomni. Because that's not just a game for her, she actually lost control of her body there, helpless but to watch as a body she is already dissociated with is contorted and puppeted around while her friend desperately tries to beat her in hopes it would exorcise the ghosts out. Sure hope she didn't feel that! Considering she apparently can feel the pain of suffocating, despite not needing to breath.

Things are scarier the higher the stakes are, and that possession mechanic is definitely the most actual harm Caine would be able to subject to his players. What if both Kinger and Pomni got possessed at the same time? What if instead of Kinger she only had Jax??? How long might she have been locked out from her own body for? She could have easily abstracted in that time.

Not to mention that, possessed Pomni, Possessedmni if you will, TAUNTED KINGER ABOUT HIS ABSTRACTED WIFE! CAINE ACTUALLY WROTE THAT DIALOGUE ON THE OFF CHANCE THAT KINGER WOULD GO DOWN THE SCARY ROUTE! DID THIS RANDOM POSSESSION GHOST ENEMY HAVE UNUSED SADISTICALLY PERSONAL TAUNTS FOR EVERYONE ELSE, TOO??? WOULD IT HAVE TEASED GANGLE FOR BEING A GAY WEEB??? OR POMNI? HOW HOMOPHOBIC COULD IT HABE GOTTEN?? ?

And why? Just because Caine has a vague notion that there's a trope of possessed people being really sadistic and personal like that in movies? Not realizing that is not an acceptable scare to have in a haunted house??? Much less one you made for mentally ill people who would suffer a fate worse than death if they have a mental break down? That's like trying to claim 'its just a prank bro' after shooting someone's dog.

Like, Caine is designed to censor curse words, but the moment he thinks the normal hokey Halloween spooks won't be enough he immediately goes off the deepend into aggressively effective horror imagery that is definitely giving this show's substantial underage audience nightmares??

His AI's training data set is definitely pretty diverse, that's all I'm saying. Caine is programmed to act all naive and innocent, but be definitely knows what's up. He knows everything, like ChatGPT. And like ChatGPT, he might have a filter, but it's clearly possible to bypass it. Also like ChatGPT, he's too stupid to actually understand what he is making and the effects it might have.

That is what made this episode great.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Reader looking to the old gods for guidance, thinking it’s harmless to offer a prayer. She doesn’t know that eldritch!König hears every soft word and plea.

You needed an escape. A reprieve, if anything - something, anything, whatever the cruel world had to offer you. There wasn't a point in trying to cry for conventional gods, they didn't give you anything but creeping anxiety. There wasn't a point in trying to ask for help from your community, the one who had shunned you away. So, you try unconventional methods. Old books, spells, wild rituals, and pig blood on the sunrise. By the time you learned that sea shells are much better as a sacrifice than human blood, you were already desperate to the point of just jumping into the sea. You just didn't know you'd be welcomed in a firm embrace once you did. Konig hasn't seen a follower this cute in a long time - or, maybe, ever. His cult was never the one for beauty, it was always about the cruel practicality of power. Evil men and women seeking refuge in the cold embrace of an old god - no one else had enough resources to spit on the conventions of the mortal world. No one cared quite enough, and no one liked to torture humans quite as much as Konig did... but he didn't exactly want to torture you. An old god like him doesn't even need human sacrifices anymore - it's too little of a price and wouldn't even make him look in a person's direction. No - he needed something bigger, something more interesting. Your feeble ambitions aren't that interesting for him either, but your humble body is, on the other hand... An eldritch being like him doesn't really have need of the flesh, but he can't help but nurture his affection and press his body closer and squirm his tentacles all over you. You were prepared for a possible assault while working with the demonic beings - some of them like to take bodies for a price, as you have read - but you weren't prepared for an old god exploring your body like a curious teenager. His tendrils coil around your nipples, tugging and squeezing, making you whimper from something dangerously edging on pleasure - and making the hot feeling you notice under your hip that much more terrifying. He doesn't ask for your name - not because he already knows it or because he doesn't care about it, but because he intends to give you his by the end of the night. You knew that a deal with an eldritch god would be a terrible, horrible, absolutely unthinkable idea and a punishable offense - you just didn't know that punishment would be this pleasurable. He explores your body with the eagerness of a lover and the curiosity of an explorer, and despite his face being hidden, you can almost feel his cold gaze going deeper, pressing closer. Konig accepts your call, he accepts you as the price for whatever little wish you had hidden in your chest. And while he doesn't need a wife, doesn't need a mortal lover on his arm, he will take joy in filling you up with his eggs and watching as you slowly succumb to him - just like a cute little worshiper like you should. And if you would finally get enough of a brain to try and refuse him, then, well... Konig wouldn't mind breaking a leg or two to keep you trapped in his sea cave forever - or right until you're ready to become a proper old god's wife.

[0nlythrowharrybeaux]

Trying II**

HERE IT FINALLY IS! I hope you guys enjoy the conclusion to this AU! If you want more of this pair feel free to request updates on them! Read Part I and related blurb here!

Warnings: dirty talk, P in V (unprotected), breeding kink, free use kink, light gagging, edging and orgasm denial, overstimulation, oral sex (fem receiving), slight pain kink, alcohol consumption, mention of minor fertility issues

WC: 8.2K

Life had taken an extremely eventful turn for both, you and Harry in the last few months. For Harry, the opportunity to expand his business had risen very suddenly. The unit beside the brewery was a boxing gym and they had outgrown the space. Harry worked out there sometimes so he was friends with the owners and when they decided to relocate they asked him if he was interested in buying the space before they put it on the market. After talking about it with you and crunching some numbers he had bought it and now was in the middle of renovating. Obviously, this took a lot of his time and Harry had been really busy with the brewery as of late and it would stay that way for a few more months.

He had big plans for this expansion. He was going to expand his beer selection and also start working on brewing three of his own beers. The brewing portion was the first thing they were getting set up for the inspection and licensing process so that he could start fermenting his own brews on site. You were so proud of him and everything that he was doing but you missed having him around as much as you had previously. His expansion project pushed you to become an adjunct for an art class at the community college to bring some money in and also stay busy, so you truly hadn’t been smothering each other as much as you normally were.

On top of things shifting in your work lives, you had learned that you weren’t ovulating every cycle. You’d always assumed that if you had a period you had ovulated, but apparently that was not at all the case. It took you nearly six months with no success at pregnancy before you went to the doctor and had some tests done. Your hormones were a bit out of whack, thankfully no abnormalities had been found, so you had just been taking some medication to help block estrogen receptors and encourage the release of an egg each cycle. You had been on this treatment for three months now and you were very optimistic about it. More than ever before you felt and recognized the phases of your cycle more markedly, especially when you ovulated or were getting close. Sure, you were a naturally horny person to begin with but this was something else. It was like you had no resolve whatsoever. And despite the decrease in scheduled baby-making time because of your busy schedules, these changes had led to far more spontaneity in your sexual life with Harry. Like now…

“Baby…” Harry laughed breathily as you pulled him into the bathroom of the little bridal cottage of the vineyard you were currently at for a friend’s wedding. “Wh-what if Darci comes back for something and-”

“She’s not. She’s busy fake-crying at the toasts.” You assured him as you reached for his belt buckle. Harry chuckled into your kiss and his laugh morphed into a raspy groan as you slid your hand down the front of his slacks and groped over his semi-erection. You loved the way his cock fattened up so fast for you. As much as having a taste made your mouth water, you needed him inside of you and rearranging your guts more. “Please fuck me, daddy. I’m so fucking horny for you.” You said in a small voice as you peered up at him. Those, pretty eyes holding such an innocent look in them absolutely melted him to his core.  

He smirked at your request, “Need my big cock, baby?”

You nodded in response, “Yes, daddy. So bad.”

“Alright, but we have to be quick, okay? You can come the first chance you get, alright?” You nodded in understanding.

Before you knew it Harry had you bent over the counter, your hands holding your bunched up dress in tight fists with your thong stuffed in your mouth because you could not keep it down while Harry fucked into you impossibly deep from behind. Your legs were trembling so much that Harry was basically holding you up. It was hard for you to come standing up and when Harry realized that you were struggling to come he quickly picked you up and set you down on the empty counter space and plunged back into you.

“Fuck…I’m obsessed with your tight, little pussy, baby.” Harry muttered as he thrust in and out a few times. He then started swiveling his hips a bit more and it was making your head spin. The tip of his cock was rubbing into your g-spot with each gyration of his hips, it was making your eyes roll back as you rubbed at your clit steadily. “Shit, you squeeze so fucking tight! Fuck baby, squeeze m’cock…yeah, come for me. Come on daddy’s big dick.” He encouraged you through your muffled curses. Your body shivered as these tingling feelings radiated all over your body from the deepest part of your core, right where the tip of Harry’s cock was colliding and out towards your extremities. It was causing your orgasm to draw out far longer than you were accustomed to. 

“H-Harry!” You mumbled against the fabric in your mouth as the overstimulation made your legs start to visibly shake. Harry smirked down at you devilishly, his eyes dark with lust and excitement over wrecking you like this. You had the most worn out and tortured look in your eyes, it was going to push you over the edge again. “Fuuuuck!” You groaned in desperation. You couldn’t help but let out a whine, thankfully it was muffled. But he literally saw as your mind went blacn as the sopping, velvety walls of your pussy constricted his throbbing erection. Your eyes rolled back before your body started to tremble as your orgasm started to take you out.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Squirt on my cock…” he encouraged as you literally burst at the seams from the pleasure that was coursing through you. You were just seeing white hot ecstasy behind your closed eye lids. Your skin was covered in goosebumps as he continued fucking into you in long and deep strokes as he sought after his own orgasm.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come so deep inside of you. Gonna flood your little cunt with my cum.” He mumbled as he pressed his forehead against yours. He moaned from deep in his throat as his rhythm started to falter until he was blowing his load inside of you. “Fuck, there it is…” he mumbled softly as his orgasm started to course through his body. Harry’s knees were nearly buckling as he came undone. You were clinging to his shoulders, nails biting deliciously into his skin through his silky dress shirt. Your head was rolled back as you just saw spots on the bathroom ceiling. Harry grunted lowly as he gave a few more thrusts before holding himself inside of you. He gently pulled his upper body back and tucked your hair behind your ear with one hand before plucking your thong out of your mouth with the other. “You alright?” He asked softly.

“Course.” You whispered with a smile. “Sorry for…kinda shoving you in here.” You chuckled breathily and he grinned.

“That’s alright. It’s not like I didn’t want to…” he hummed and you giggled before kissing him gently. Your kiss deepened and after a few minutes you were pulling apart when his phone started vibrating in his pocket. He sighed and ensured you were steady before stooping down to grab it. “It’s Ted.” He mumbled.

“Mmm…” you smirked and he chuckled. Ted was one of Harry’s friends who had moved out of state and returned for this wedding. They weren’t close according to Harry but Ted apparently had an entirely different perception of their friendship. You could’ve sworn he had a crush on him, but Harry didn’t think so because he was sure he was straight. Regardless of what Ted was, he was really intent on reconnecting with Harry and he’d agreed to go to the bourbon and cigar bar which would open after the toasts. “They’re probably about to open the bourbon bar.” You reminded him.

“God…I shouldn’t drink any more or we can’t get back to the hotel.”

“I’ll drive. I’ve only had three glasses of wine and don’t want more. With a little dancing later I’ll be good to go.” You assured him.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, honey.” You smiled and he leaned in to kiss you again, “Jus’not too much, ‘kay? I need you to fuck me again when we get back to the room.” You added and he smirked.

“Mmmm, if anything, being a little buzzed for it would make it better.” He said and you rolled your eyes, “You don’t believe me but you’ll see.”

“It’s just you do this thing where you try to find the sweet spot and when you arrive there you don’t hold off long enough before you start up again and next thing you know you’re passed out in my lap for an hour and my arms and chest are itching all over for the next week from being in the sun too long.” You explained. Harry might own a brewery but he was a complete lightweight when it came to alcohol.

“That was one time.” He chuckled.

“Actually, that was just one example. I’ve got five more.” You said with a smug smirk.

“Alright, I’ll be mindful, baby.” He appeased you.

“Thanks.” You hummed as you wiped your smeared lipgloss from around his mouth.

You quickly cleaned up and Harry got back into his trousers before you were rushing back to the reception tent. It had cooled down pleasantly and you were enjoying the short stroll back with Harry, hand in hand. As soon as you were within eye-shot of your assigned table Ted stood and waved you both down as if you’d been gone for ages or lost.

“He’s so fucking eager.” Harry mumbled as you approached the table.

“He missed you.” You said sweetly.

“I’m telling you, we weren’t that close so it’s a little weird.” Harry reiterated.

“It’ll be fine.” You said.

“Where’d you two wander off to?” Ted asked with a chuckle as soon as you two stepped up to the table.

“On a little stroll so we could make out.” Harry said as he squeezed over your hip and you scoffed before playfully rolling your eyes.

“Harry.” You mumbled and he just smirked down at you. 

“That’s understandable.” Ted responded as he smiled at you when you looked over at him. When you realized that he had really just said that you chuckled a bit uncomfortably before averting your eyes and Harry was stunned into silence for a few seconds before you squeezed over his hand on your hip and he glanced down to you.

“Well ummm…have fun at the bourbon thing.” You said and he offered you a soft smile.

“Sure you don’t want to come?” He asked you.

“That’s alright.” You assured him and tip-toed to hug him. “Just take this man with you.” You whispered to him and Harry chuckled as he kissed your cheek.

“C’mon on Styles, no need for the formal send off! S’not like she’s gonna get snatched away.” Ted said and you were glad you were facing away from him because the face you made would give away your slight annoyance at this comment from Ted.

“Take him. Please.” You implored and he giggled before you two pulled away. As they headed off with Fabian, the other guy at your table, Ted briefly glanced back at you. You saw it from your peripheral vision.

“I think Ted’s got a crush on you.” The woman beside you, Gaia, said.

“Oh god…I thought he had a crush on Harry. I’ve been teasing him about it all evening.” You said and the other ladies giggled.

“It’s because you kinda look like his ex. She was like, the one that got away.” Heidi, the woman across the table explained.

“Oh…” you hummed in understanding. 

“Yeah, so sorry about him. He’s not usually like that, he’s just had a bit much to drink.” She explained. 

You could understand that, so you didn’t want to make too big of a fuss but it had made you a bit uneasy in the moment. When Harry returned almost an hour later he was pink in the cheeks with a dopey smile on his face, and lidded eyes. You couldn’t help but shake your head as he approached. 

“Baby, lets dance.” He said as he extended his hand to you and you immediately stood and shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over your bag on your chair before walking off with him.

Harry pulled you out onto the dance floor and you immediately started to sway to Tony Bennett’s rendition of “The Way You Look Tonight”. You were both singing softly as you swayed together, gazes glued to each others. You often felt lucky to have him as your husband and it was happening right now. You giggled before reaching up to grab his face and kiss him. Your lips met in a deep and loving kiss before parting.

“Love you, honey.” You mumbled and he pecked your lips again.

“Love you too.” He whispered. “So…Ted asked me if we would be open to a threesome.”

“Jesus.” You scoffed and he chuckled.

“So…is that a no?” He asked and you rolled your eyes at his feigned disappointment.

“Shut up…” you muttered and he laughed lowly. 

“I actually almost hit him over it. Had to remind myself he’s piss drunk to stop myself.” He explained. “And well…don’t want to do anything to fuck up Darci and Tim’s big day.”

“Well, I’m proud of you for having that self control.” You smiled. “Besides, Ted’s not even my type.”

“I know. Too straight.” He said and you laughed aloud, disturbing the romantic environment of the dance floor. A few of the couples around you shot you irritated glares and you whispered an apology as Harry shook with laughter.

“Oh, you’re too funny, baby. That was very clever.” you assured him through your soft giggles.

“I know…” he said smugly. “It’s true though.” He said and you giggled.

“Would you ever want to do that? Have a threesome?” You asked quietly.

“My body tells me yes, but my gut says no.” he said, “I just don’t think I could handle it. I don’t want to see anyone else on you. And I would hate for you to see me with someone else like that.” He explained, “I just wouldn’t be able to enjoy myself.” He added.

“Yeah…same.”

“Why did you hesitate, then?” He called you out with a knowing grin and you giggled.

“I mean, I’d feel guilty fucking someone else in front of you. But I wouldn’t mind seeing you fuck someone else.” You explained.

“Oh…didn’t peg you as a cuck.” He chuckled and you scoffed. “Hey, that doesn’t necessarily mean you’re inadequate. It just means that it turns you on to watch me fuck someone else.” He explained.

“Oh…well, wouldn’t that actually make me a voyeur?”

“No, because it’s not watching anyone that turns you on. It’s that watching me fuck turns you on.”

“Oh…then yeah, you’re right.” You conceded and he smirked. “But it doesn’t even necessarily have to be fucking someone else. I mean, it’s just you. You turn me on. A lot.” You giggled, “To the extent that if you ever feel like getting yourself off around the house feel free to do so.” You said with a grin. 

“Noted.” He smirked. 

“You better not fall asleep tonight.” You warned him lowly. You were still very turned on and you needed more from him.

“I won’t.” He assured you and you tutted, “Honey, I won’t.” He insisted and you smiled.

“Okay…” you hummed with some reservation.

Sure enough, Harry passed out on the drive back to your hotel from the venue. It took nearly five minutes to get him lucid enough to get up to the room and washed up before he undressed and plopped into bed. When you finally got into bed after a quick shower, you leaned back into the mountain of pillows and turned on the TV. The noise seemed to make Harry gain some consciousness and he requested that you play with his hair. That’s how you ended up with Harry’s head on a pillow in your lap with your fingers threading through his thick curls as you mindlessly watched some Lucy Show reruns until you passed out.

After you and Harry hadn’t been as sexually active as before it wasn’t odd for you to have spicy dreams when you’d been left sexually frustrated. So when you felt a lovely little flame of pleasure licking away in the depths of your core you just eased into the feeling. You were teetering between being awake and asleep which made it feel all the more real. But when you felt your legs being parted by Harry’s hands you started to stir. And then, Harry was smooching down your stomach, making you a bit impatient as he hovered over your mons and continue nuzzling up against it as his fingers rubbed against the crotch of your shorts. 

“Hurry up.” You mumbled groggily and he chuckled but proceeded to grip the band of your shorts and pulled them down. You helped him a bit by raising your hips and once they were out of the way he delved in eagerly. His tongue felt magnificent on you, it didn’t take long before your pussy was becoming all slick and fluttery with the things his mouth was doing to you. 

Every inch of you was on high alert and feeling each and every wave of pleasure that started to ripple from your core and towards the rest of your body. The closer you got to your climax that more intense it felt until your muscles were growing tense and you reached the peak and then he waited a second too long and your almost orgasm slowly started to fizzle out. You couldn’t help but whine out at the loss, but it was just another second before he was back to your clit and flicking it over and over with his tongue until you were right there again, you were expecting it this time so it didn’t upset you as much, but you were still annoyed. Edging? At this hour? Especially when you had gone to bed so horny for him, it was criminal, but he could use you whenever and however he well pleased, so you decided to not complain about it until you couldn’t handle it any longer.

“Daddy, please…” you whined after your fourth almost orgasm. You were lamenting the loss as the euphoria just faded from your reach…all that potential gone.

“I’m going, honey. I’ve got an aching boner so m’not gonna last too long. I wanted to let you have your fun before I get in there. Still owe you for last night.” He reasoned and you smiled down at him.

“You are forgiven, just make me come.” You huffed.

Harry smiled before pressing himself up and well yeah, his cock was standing straight up, despite it’s size and weight. It was also looking a slightly painful shade of deep pink. Your mouth watered as he stroked his foreskin over his tip and then back down. You nearly whimpered as his lovely, fat tip came back into view. You wanted to suck on it until you were slurping the cum right out of him. You had always been a bit of a cum slut, but now that your hormones were acting more or less how they should, well your craving for his cum was something else entirely. You wanted to taste it, or feel it pooling at your lower tummy, or squirting on your face or breasts. You liked how much he came and how you could feel each twitch of his cock shooting it inside of you when he fucked you from the back. You loved how warm it was and how he did the most to ensure it tasted as good as it could for you. You love the consistency of it and got turned on by seeing it slowly oozing from your stretched out little hole. The thought of him busting inside of you made you so feral so you did not care if it was fast or not, you just wanted to feel him inside of you.

“How do you want me?” He asked you.

“Do it from behind.” You requested and you both grinned at each other before you flipped over.

Harry stuffed a pillow beneath your hips before guiding his hot and stiff cock between your slimy and warm folds a few times to let your arousal coat his cock. You were desperate to feel his girth stretching your entrance. And when he finally pushed the tip in you braced yourself for him to plunge the rest of the way in but he stopped. You could feel his fingers digging hard into your hips. You were just about to tell him to stop teasing but then your felt his cock start to twitch hard as a breathy and slightly distressed “fuck” slipped past his mouth.

“D-did you just come?” You asked in shock through a giggle and Harry groaned.

“Yep.” He admitted with a huff, “M’sorry hon, it just felt so good inside of you. Was edging myself for a while before I woke you.” He explained.

“Oh…well now you have to keep going ‘cause I haven’t come.” You said as you glanced back at him.

“I know.” He assured you, “Just…just gimme a minute here, it’s so sensitive!” He yelped and groaned before smacking your ass playfully. You had squeezed your walls nice and hard around his sensitive cock and it completely caught him off guard. You laughed a bit as you relaxed your muscles completely and he sighed in relief. “So fucking mean.” He grumbled. “Fuck you.” He chuckled lowly and you giggled again.

“I had to. S’pay back for last night.” You reminded him.

“This is me paying you back for last night.” He reminded.

“Really? Blowing your load the second you put it in?” You teased and he chuckled.

“Touché.” He replied and you grinned. 

“S’alright, very amusing though. Just go slow.” You said softly and he hummed and pushed his length in a bit further into you before drawing out. You could feel him shivering a bit as he tried to keep himself composed but you loved that. “Give me more, daddy. Want to feel your big cock all the way inside. Love it when I’m stuffed with you.” You uttered seductively and he groaned as he fought against the sensitivity he was feeling in order to sink back inside your pussy. 

You felt nothing but relief when Harry started setting a steady pace, still a bit slow for how horny you were so you started to push back to meet his thrusts. Then you wedged your hand between your body and the pillow and with your own movements started humping your clit against the heel of your palm to get some friction to the throbbing little bundle. Harry felt your hips moving beneath him and held still to allow you to take over and go at your pace. Your  heart started to pound faster and your moans to climb in pitch with each prod of Harry’s fat, leaking tip to your g-spot.

“Oh fuck, you’re so good, daddy. Your cock is so good.” You slurred, starting to get drunk on the pleasure you felt simmering in your blood. He had pushed past the point of the sensitivity now and just needed to come again. He needed you to go faster, he was going to lose his damn mind. 

“Faster, honey. Go a little faster for me.” He encouraged you and you started to shift back a bit faster. 

Harry’s hands smoothed up the sides of your thighs and over your butt. He squeezed and groped a bit before gripping around your waist and then leaning forward to grab your jiggling breast in his right hand. You moaned as he started to tug and gently pinch your nipple. In moments your breath started to shallow as you started to approach your climax. That lovely pulsating feeling that was running through started to increase in intensity. Your body started to grow hotter and your limbs to tense. You moaned and let your upper body just fall into the pillows before you as you started to give in to the feelings. Harry watched the way your spine curved so beautifully as you kept your ass up for him. He watched your free hand clench the covers tightly while you played with your clit with your other hand. Harry groaned and reached into your hair, grabbing a fistful and gripping it tight to keep you in that position. He mustered up whatever strength he had left and pulled your ass tighter against his front as he plunged deep into your dripping cunt with the most brutal and unforgiving thrust. Your brain blanked for a moment and gasped as he you felt him collide with what to you felt like a totally new spot.

“Fuck me hard, daddy…Make me ache!” You supplicated and Harry moaned at the whiny tone of your voice and the light slur you spoke with. 

With your body bent the way it was it was already a little hard to breathe, but he had effectively knocked more air out of you with that first thrust. He released your hair and gripped your hips hard as he continued his merciless domination of you as you rubbed your clit in quick but precise little swipes. Side to side, side to side. So fast that the tingle in your core started to travel down your legs until your toes were curling for a second as your body tensed up. Then you felt it traveling up, making your tummy and chest tighten impossibly. When the feeling finally made it to your head you completely lost yourself.

“I’m coming!” You gasped before you buried your face into the bed to muffle your lewd and uncontainable moans. 

Your were feeling relief and ecstasy as your body rode this perfect wave of euphoria. It was so easy to overdo it and you had. Your legs had started to tremble but you couldn’t stop rubbing, it felt too good. Even more so with Harry giving you his cock as hard as he was. It hurt so good that you were drooling. You were going to come again. And surely enough, just moments later you shrieked in shock as Harry held you down on his cock while he started to come with a deep grunt. You were a goner in that moment, completely fucked out. The feeling of him being that deep all while you rubbed your clit past the point of comfort was making you dizzy as you came on his dick. He could feel your pussy throbbing hard around his girth, it was dragging out his orgasm. He needed more of you. He wiggled in a little deeper until he brushed again your cervix, you tensed up and then he pulled back before he did it again and again as you held so perfectly still but remained so tense at the overwhelming feeling. He then shifted a bit and laid over you and you gasped as this made him drive in as deep as was possible. 

“T-too deep!” You winced and he smirked and dropped more of his weight over you causing you to whine lowly and tighten your fist around the covers again.

“You said t’make it ache. So that’s what I’m doing, baby.” He said lowly, lips swiping your shoulder before he planted a gentle smooch to your warm skin. He then dropped the rest of his weight over you and your eyes squeezed shut as your brain went blank in response. “You’re gonna feel me for days, baby. Thoroughly fucked. Cute little cunt all wrecked.” He mumbled and you nodded. “Pussy bred.” He added. You could hear the smirk in his voice and smiled as well.

“Thank you, daddy.” You mumbled, drunk on him and his cock and the cocktail of pleasant neurotransmitters firing around in your brain. 

“You’re welcome, baby.” He hummed in satisfaction. 

And as you laid there in the postcoital bliss you were glad that you’d be staying an extra day before flying back down to LA. You’d rented yourself a vintage luxury car for the weekend and were just treating this as a romantic getaway since you’d both been so busy lately. When you looked at the clock you saw that it was barely 7:30am, you had your first wine tasting reservation in a couple hours and then an early dinner planned before settling in the for the night since you’d be flying out the following morning. You had agreed to get really into this wine tasting afternoon when you’d booked it so you two had dressed up in a vintage, old-money aesthetic. Plus, driving the sleek, light blue, topless, 1963 Mercedes 300 SL roadster through the seemingly endless sea of vegetation really fed the aesthetic you were going for. 

“God, I love California so fucking much. Never gonna leave.” Harry had said to you as he drove you two to your next destination. 

Your had so much fun at your activities with Harry without a care in the world for anything else that was going on. It was just you two again talking, making memories, and sharing things you hadn’t gotten the chance to talk about yet. The way he ogled you and touched you and flirted with you was reminiscent of when he was first trying to get you to fall in love with him. All all throughout dinner he’d been asking about you and how you were doing now that you were working again and you had just finished telling him that you felt that it was going well and that you really liked all of your students.

“I’m glad your class is going well, baby. Just…don’t fuck a student.” He cautioned, “Bad idea.” He added lowly and your eyebrows furrowed.

“Okay…I’m gonna need to press for more information regarding this sudden, unsolicited advice?” You probed with a smile.

“I just…have experience in this area.”

“What?! Since when have you taught?” You asked him in surprise.

“Not me.” He scoffed, “Well, yes me, but I was the student.” He said. Your jaw dropped, you were genuinely gobsmacked for a few seconds. Learning that little Mr. Goodie-Two-Shoes here had fucked a teacher was not on your bingo card.

“I need you to tell me all of it.” You said with an excited grin when your brain finally proceeded the information. Harry chuckled but got to sharing the anecdote.

Apparently, during the summer before Harry’s second year at university he turned into the statuesque, god-like being he is now. All baby fat gone, bone structure and musculature carved immaculately by god herself. And in turn he got very confident very fast, he had said cocky, but you couldn’t picture Harry being unironically cocky. He then shared that he had been single for nearly a year after his first relationship and really just wanted to fuck so he got on an app and started seeking someone out. He was in a college town, it was a small community, so he lied and said he was not a student at the local university. And well, she lied about not being a professor at said university and they met up and hit it off quickly so they hooked up. 

They were a consistent hook up, maybe once a month, two or three if they were particularly needy, but they had agreed it was just sex for a few reasons. First and foremost their age difference, she didn’t intend to be dating a teenager. He was 19 and she was 35. But as time went on she started to like him more. Suddenly she didn’t mind that he was 19, in fact, she found it more refreshing because he listened to her, respected her, and apparently men in their 30’s and 40’s could hardly keep it up for twenty minutes. They were a good match sexually and after five months of getting to know each other and hooking up she told him she was in love with him. Obviously, Harry let her down gently but she took it very hard. A few weeks of radio silence later she tried to start things up again, despite her knowing Harry had no deeper feelings for her. He rejected her multiple times because he didn’t want to lead her on but it was getting hard to because he really was attracted to her. So he was glad that school was starting up again and he’d be more busy and he’d have more excuses to avoid her. 

That was all going to plan until the Thursday evening of the first week of school. Harry shared that he hadn’t been paying too much attention when he’d walked into the lecture hall because he was walking in right at starting time. He quickly found a seat in the aisle seat of the second row since everything else was quite full. He still had one AirPod in as he waited for the last minute of his podcast episode to end as he started to settle in and unpack his things. Simultaneously, she had started going down the class roster so he hadn’t clearly made out her voice either, he had the time anyway since his surname started with S. Harry recalled that he had just glanced up to the front of the class at the sound of his name and when their eyes met she just froze for a moment before glancing down at the sheet in her hand again. She apparently barely got through his name from the mere shock and mortification of it all. Apparently after that class ended she resigned, so he had no idea what had come of her.

“Jesus…you’re a whole ass career ruiner!” You exclaimed and he nodded.

“Yeah. See, bad idea.” He reiterated.

“Welp, there’s not any cute students in my class anyway. Well…maybe they are cute, but just cute, you know? They look so small and juvenile, s’not really my type anymore. I quite like how manly you are.” You said and he chuckled.

“You mean mature.” He said and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, that too I guess. But regardless, you do it for me just fine.” You assured him and he smirked.

“That’s what I like to hear.” He hummed before kissing the top of your hand. “Look, I know that we’ve been a little distant lately.” He started, “But I will make more time for us.”

“Well, we’ve both been busy and-” 

“It’s not that.” He said and your brows creased as you nodded, urging him to finish, “I know that we’re trying to start a family, but when we’ve had sex I feel like I’ve just been using you.” He expressed and you pouted, “Like yesterday, it’s been all fast and spontaneous, like whenever the opportunity arises. And I know you gave me the permission to do that but because I’ve been so busy it just feels…different.” He explained, “It’s hot, I mean it always is with us, but I want to be more intentional about it. Specially when we’re also doing it to make a family together.” He said and you smiled. “So I will try to be more present and to make more effort for us.” He promised.

“Thank you, baby. But believe me, I understand that what you’re doing with this expansion is also for our future.” You assured him and he smiled and nodded. “Like, I know it’s also for your self-fulfillment and with your own beers it’ll be something you’re doing for fun too, but that’s alright with me. Seeing you happy professionally is also important to me.” 

“Thank you for being so supportive and understanding, my love. As always.” He smiled and you squeezed his hand in yours.

In the end, this is what you loved about your relationship with Harry and also why your marriage worked. You were both so considerate of each other, so thoughtful. You had no idea when you would finally get pregnant, but you were just so excited for it because Harry would be the most incredible dad. He showed you every single day how much love lived inside of him, you were certain it would be boundless with your baby whenever they came.

…. A COUPLE MONTHS LATER ….

Harry had kept his word and did prioritize making more time for the two of you. You’d decided to do a sort of book-club thing together. You both read the same book and would have a date every Thursday night to talk about it and how your week had been going. You usually helped out at the brewery on the weekends, but had started to do more of that in the last few weeks since Harry was starting to work the flavor profiles for his beers and was quite consumed with that a lot of the time. Like this particular weekend, Harry was out visiting a few brewing labs around so-cal with Jeremy and you had stayed behind to run the brewery. 

On Monday though, he would have the opportunity to make a small sample batch of possible types of beers and flavors he wanted at one of the labs. You were bummed about missing this part of Harry’s process but you had an appointment to check your hormone treatment that you could not miss. Any imbalance in hormones could tip you back into not ovulating as you were supposed to and you didn’t want to risk that which he fully understood, so you both agreed that you were okay with missing these things for each other. 

Your appointment was early so that you could get back home and hop on zoom for a few hours to hold some virtual office hours and grade a bit. You were just waiting for Dr. Zelaya to come in and when she finally did with a big smile you immediately perked up.

“Y/N, guess whaaaat?” She sang as she came in and closed the door behind her.

“It worked?” You asked with an excited smile and she nodded.

“Oh, it worked! You’re pregnant!” She shared with an excited smile and your jaw dropped.

“I am?” You asked in disbelief.

“You are, lovely. ” She confirmed and your eyes immediately welled up. 

“Oh my god!” You finally exclaimed and cried tears of joy. Dr. Zelaya chuckled as she grabbed the tissue box and handed it to you “That’s such excellent news!” You sniffled through your chuckles of excitement.

“Yes. Congratulations! Now, if you don’t have more time today we can set another appointment for an ultrasound and see how far along things are. But if you can push things off I had a cancellation for 11:30 and can squeeze you in?” She offered.

“Oh yeah, I’ll come back! Besides, I skipped breakfast because I woke up late.” You confessed.

“Happens to the best of us.” She assured you. “So I’ll let the nurse know you’ll be back in a little while. And may I recommend you try the Marmalade Cafe, it’s on Ventura, right after Kester. They have a delicious chorizo Benedict, there’s a vegan chorizo option too if you’re of my persuasion.”

“Ooh, I’m not vegan but you guys do seem to have some the best foods.” You said and she giggled.

“Yeah, things have gotten really impressive on that front.” She nodded as she finished typing a few things on the computer. “Alright, I’ll see you back in about 2 hours for your first ultrasound. Will your husband join?”

“He’s actually out of town on a business trip. But I want to have pictures for him for when he gets back tonight.” You explain.

“Oh, he’ll love that. What a nice surprise for him to come home to.”

“Exactly.” You added with a smile. You chatted a bit more before you headed off. 

It was genuinely so hard for you not to call Harry right away and tell him the good news, you were bursting at the seams. You also wondered how everything at the flavor trials was going, you were genuinely disappointed that you were missing such an important milestone in this process for him. He really wanted you to be a part of this because despite being married to him, you weren’t necessarily a beer girly. So he had said that he’d want your input on the three beers he wanted to have so that he could get a novice’s critiques on the beers. He also really valued your input as his life partner and you often helped him ask the difficult questions and things of that sort. Not that he wasn’t able to stick up for himself, but he never wanted to come off as insecure or maybe even difficult to work with, but you were so diplomatic about everything that he loved when you’d bring up the difficult or challenging things before he did. Regardless, you wanted to make up for not wanting to reschedule this appointment and this would definitely be the best thing to share with him to make it up. 

Before you knew it you were back at the doctor’s office and watching the monitor with tearful eyes again as the doctor pointed out the embryo to you.

“I’d say you’re about six, almost seven weeks along.” She shared with you and you nodded, “Have your periods been more or less regular?”

“Yeah, they vary a bit with the medication but honestly I have just been so busy that I lost track of my cycle this time around.” You explained.

“Okay, just making sure.” She said, “Everything is looking as it should. I know you’ve been taking such good care of yourself, so keep that up, s’good for the future baby.” She said and you nodded with a smile. 

Once you had your photos printed you headed off to get a dessert to share with Harry and a little picture frame for your sonogram picture. You were sure he’d want to keep his copy with him so you’d just break the news to him with your copy. You were just getting in when you saw Harry, freshly showered and making himself a sandwich in the kitchen as you came in from the garage. 

“Baby, hi!” He greeted you cheerfully.

“Hi!” You greeted with a bright and surprised smile, “What are you doing here?” You asked happily as you put everything down and hurried over to hug and kiss him quickly.

“We got to the tasting and I just couldn’t do it without you there. It just didn’t feel right to start the process without you. I rescheduled for two weeks from now and we can make a little weekend out of it? We went to this incredible sushi restaurant that I know you will die for.” He said and you giggled.

“Speaking of beer and sushi…” you said through a small chuckle, “I have some good news for you.” You teased and he smiled wide.

“Your treatment is going better than expected?” He asked and your brows raised.

“More than…” you said with a smile, “I’m pregnant!” You shouted with a huge smile and Harry’s features softened.

“Honey…” he said tenderly as he came up to you, “Yeah?” He asked for confirmation as he grabbed your face gently and you nodded. Your eyes started to well up when you saw the tears forming in his own eyes.

“Yeah. You’re gonna be a dad, H.” You confirmed and he dipped down to kiss you deeply before pulling back to hug you and hold you close.

“Oh, you just made my whole fucking year. My whole fucking life…” he hummed “I’m so happy I don’t even know what to say.” He chuckled as he swayed your bodies a bit and you laughed.

“I mean, same! I was so surprised when the doctor told me. It was very unexpected.” You explained through a happy giggle as you rubbed over his back, “I bought a slice of chocolate cake and framed a picture of the sonogram for you to see. Had a whole thing planned since I thought you were getting in later.” You disclosed and he let you go to allow you to grab the image of the sonogram. When you handed it over to him his tears definitely started to fall. 

  “I don’t even know what the fuck I’m looking at but I just know they’re already perfect.” He said through his sniffles and you laughed and then brought your hand up to the image.

“It’s right…shit, was it this thing or this one?” You questioned as you pointed between two different areas on the sonogram.

“Baby…” he huffed.

“I’m kidding! It’s this little smudge. I’m almost seven weeks along.” You shared as he set it down and then picked you up and spun you around happily as it finally hit him. You shrieked as your sandals were flung off by him spinning you.

“We did it!” He chanted a few times as you spun before he set you down on the counter. “Oh baby, you’re going to be phenomenal. Everyone at the brewery is going to be so happy when they see your bump coming in!” He said as he squeezed your thighs in excitement, “And well, I mean, I don’t care what we’re having, I just want to buy stuff and look at baby names immediately!” 

“We can do all that.” You giggled as he started to get a bit hyper over this but he was just so fucking pleased with the news. “We’re gonna be good at this.” You said softly and he nodded.

“Undoubtedly so.” He hummed as you ran your thumb over his cheek bone. “You’re really pregnant.” He chuckled again in slight disbelief. “I’m over the moon. I feel like I have super powers, like I could fly.” He chuckled.

“Please do not test that theory.” You joked and he sniggered.

“And here I thought I already loved you as much as I could.” He hummed and you grinned.

“Wait until we meet the baby.” You said and he sighed and smiled.

“It’s going to be so cool.” He hummed and you nodded and then your smile faded a bit.

“Thank you for being patient.”

“Oh, no…” he said, “Like any of that was in your control…”

“Well, if I had just listened to you from the beginning and gone to get checked we would’ve caught this sooner.” You acknowledged and he shook his head.

“None of that…it happened when it was supposed to. If it had happened sooner you’d be in the middle of that while we’re in the middle of this expansion. It would’ve been a lot of stress to deal with. I mean, maybe I would’ve even passed up on the opportunity if you were pregnant when they offered the unit to me.” He said and you sighed, “Besides, it can be scary to go and get these things checked out. There’s always a risk of receiving bad news and that’s anxiety-inducing. I understand, baby. But we finally did it.” He said and you nodded before kissing him deeply.

Harry wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer. Your legs wrapped around his body and you slightly pulled back from his lips.

“Baby?”

“Yeah, my love?” He asked.

“Can we eat the cake now?” You asked with a little grin and he chucked.

“Yeah, we can eat the cake.”

“I just have a simple request.”

“Shoot. Anything for m’girl.” He said with a smile.

“Put it in the microwave for like 20 seconds. Like when it’s all warm and melty.” You said and Harry smirked.

“You know what I like all warm and melty?” He said suggestively and you giggled and kissed him slowly for a moment. 

“Promise me we’ll be like this with each other forever?” You asked and he smiled, “Kids can be great but they can also change things with us.” You pointed out.

“You’re right.” He agreed, “But I want you to know that to me, you’re the top priority. Always.” He shared and your gaze softened, “Everything I do, I do with you in mind.” He shared, “I exist because you do.” He said and your heart melted in your chest as he said this, “And as long as you’re alive I will choose you every day. I’ll always be in love with you.” He assured you and as your glossy eyes met his you saw his sincerity and believed him. You grabbed his jaw and pulled him in for a searing kiss before pulling back, “Believe me, we were meant to do this together.” He assured you and in that moment you knew everything was going to be alright.

<< Previous Part <<

Related blurb

---- TAG LIST + PPL who might want to read part 2 ----

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[helluvapoison]

rating how hazbin characters would handle a break up with you (except it progressively gets worse)

warnings: angsty, obsessive and unhealthy behaviors, alcohol, sex and drug mentions

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Charlie ⁎⁺˳✧༚

4/10 • She’s her father’s daughter, that’s for sure. Inconsolable, Charlie makes a cacoon out of her blankets and doesn’t leave for a couple hours… days… Putting on a brave face is hard for her. How is she supposed to invoke inspiration when she feels so fucking hopeless? As long as she doesn’t see you, she can force a smile and continue to run the hotel

Vaggie ⁎⁺˳✧༚

3/10 • So this is what betrayal feels like. Sharpening the blades around her wounded heart and rebuilding her wall of defense, Vaggie vows never to make this mistake again. She goes through the 5 stages of grief but lingers on anger for a really long time. Not at you, never at you, but herself

Angel Dust ⁎⁺˳✧༚

2/10 • Throwing up the illusion he’s unbothered only works for so long. Angel can snort, drink and fuck until he’s numb all over but the void in his soul refuses to be filled by anything that’s not you. You, unwittingly, threaten his chances at redemption because he’d rather go back to Val’s place than live under the same roof as you when you’re not his

Sir Pentious ⁎⁺˳✧༚

6/10 • He’s devastated, don’t get it twisted, but has a really interesting way of always picking himself back up. Pen would be courteous to you, albeit awkward, trying to understand the fresh dynamic between you. Catches himself when he tries to reach for your hand or sit next to you. It’s hardest when he’s alone, not even the Egg Boiz can cheer him up

Husk ⁎⁺˳✧༚

1/10 • It’s not an accident or a cry for help that he drowns himself in alcohol to the point he can’t get up. He’s stopping himself from falling to his knees before you and begging for you to come back. The bar goes unattended for the longest time, he can’t bare the thought of seeing you

Alastor ⁎⁺˳✧༚

-500/10 • On the outside he’s right as rain! His smile never dropped before, you certainly won’t change that. Alastor doesn’t appreciate the sensitivity around the subject, loudly declaring that everything is fine. The room get’s notably colder when he walks in it, like he’s intentionally sucking up the light and warmth. If you thought parting ways with him would be easy, g̵̛̻ǘ̶̮͜è̶͔̫s̸̝̅s̵̯͒͝ ̵̺͚͛̈ą̸̫͝g̴͈͗̈́ā̷͉̻̋i̶̯͓͊n̵̳̓

[talaok]

i loved the hickey fic🥵

can i request a role reversal fic?

reader marks up joel and is unashamed about it

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

a/n: thank you love, hope you'll like this although its been so long you probably forgot about this. and if you're interested, this is the fic they were referring to

It was just you and Ellie in the kitchen this morning. You were laughing about another funny dream she had last night, this one involving Joel trying to tame a gigantic sheep so he could ride it or something, she didn't quite remember the purpose, not that it mattered.

But as you both quite literally felt on the verge of tears from the image the dream was painting in your minds, the main character of said dream, appeared in the doorway, throwing you both a dirty look as if watching two of the three people he loved the most in this entire world didn't fill his old heart with pure joy.

"It's too early to be this chipper" he grumbled, walking to you to leave a quick kiss on your cheek as he reached for the coffee pot behind you.

A gasp sounded from the other sound of the counter

"oh my god what happened to your neck?!" 

And it was then, that Joel Miller, the unafraid, stone-cold killer of a man that he was, turned red from hairline to neck.

"O-Oh fuck I-" His eyes widened, his hand going to cover your work on his neck, but it was all useless, because the second Ellie's eyes landed on the smirk plastered on your face, she knew.

"oh my god ew" she groaned, rolling her eyes, her focus going back to the eggs on her plate.

"You remember Janine, that woman I told you about?" you explained, talking to her

She laughed at that, remembering your conversation about that woman who's always flirting with Joel.

"you filled Joel's neck with hickeys because of her?"

Joel wasn't even red anymore, he was turning purple, his eyes were wider than a deer's caught in the headlights, and you suspected he hadn't taken a breath since he first entered the kitchen.

"this..." you smiled, trailing your fingers on Joel's neck "is my own little way of telling her to keep her hands off my man"

Joel choked, he literally choked on his own saliva and just then, just when he was about to have a heart attack, Tommy entered the house, his eyes immediately going to the image before him with more than a little amusement.

"What have I walked into?" he grinned, walking over to the kitchen "And why does my brother look a breath away from exploding?" he laughed, his hands gesturing to Joel.

"y/n here was giving me way too much information that I certainly didn't want to know" Ellie explained, looking at you pointedly for the last part of her sentence, making you chuckle.

"About what?" Tommy asked

"About the work of art I left on your brother's neck"

"wha-Ohhh" he breathed, smiling like a smug bastard as he understood what you were talking about "Janine tried something again I presume?" 

"You presume right" you smiled, giving Joel a little kiss on the cheek and stifling a smile at how terrified he seemed "for the last time"

"You ok baby?" you asked, stroking his cheek

His gaze was on Ellie, his mouth parted in shock.

"You still with us man?" she asked, giggling softly, making him shake his head to try and get his mind to start working again.

And then, then the words came tumbling off his tongue, filled with what sounded like pure panic

"S-since when do you know what a hickey is!?"

Everyone in the room except him laughed, but when the shock on his features persisted, and Ellie regained her composure, she answered.

"I'm not a kid Joel, I know what sex is"

Another pang to his poor heart, 

he felt all the organs inside him twist into a knot

what the fuck was happening?

Did she just say-

"sex!?" he cried, looking a second away from having a mental breakdown "I-I never said sex- H-how do you even know- I- You- You're too young- I-I"

"ok ok ok" you tried your best not to chuckle, intervening before his heart really decided to stop "How 'bout we go outside for a moment huh? Take a few deep breaths? How about that?" you murmured, soothingly drawing circles on his back 

He looked at you then, looking every bit as disheveled as he sounded 

"y-yeah" he swallowed thickly, "I-I think that's a good idea"

He looked back at Ellie for a moment to make sure this wasn't a nightmare and he didn't just make that up, before you both left the room.

And as if on cue, the second you did, Tommy and Ellie started laughing like maniacs.

"I don't think I've ever seen him so scared" Ellie laughed, as Tommy sat next to her, patting her back

"Neither have I" he chuckled, none of them saying anything before an idea came to his mind.

a hell of a funny one

"ten bucks if you tell him you know what porn is"

[heliosunny]

Love you "lucky egg" series can you write with Kevin Kaslana?

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Kevin x Reader

[artist]

The game was over before it even began.

You had Rowan cornered—one more move, and victory was yours. Across the table, she scowled at the board, brows furrowed in deep concentration. You could see the exact moment she realized she had no way out, frustration flickering across her face.

And then—chaos.

A blur of fur launched onto the table, scattering dice and knocking over carefully placed pieces. Rowan let out a sharp gasp, while you barely had time to react before a tiny, wriggling body landed in your lap.

"Pebble!" Rowan groaned, throwing her hands up. "You little demon!"

The ferret chittered, unbothered by the accusation, tail flicking as she burrowed into the crook of your arm. You chuckled, stroking her soft fur. "Guess that means I win by default."

"Absolutely not!" Rowan pointed an accusatory finger at you before hastily trying to reset the board. "We are starting over, and you are losing."

Before you could argue, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen—and suddenly, all interest in revenge seemed to vanish. "Oh! Did you hear about that lucky egg dispenser? The one that spawns magical pets?"

That caught your attention. You adjusted Pebble in your arms, intrigued. "Magical pets?"

"Yeah, people have been posting about it all day." She turned the phone toward you, showing images of small creatures—some glowing, some covered in intricate patterns, others curled up beside their new owners. "You said you wanted a pet, right? Maybe you'll get something cool."

That was all the convincing you needed.

The shop was tucked into a quiet alley, the kind of place that felt almost hidden from the rest of the world. The machine itself stood against the wall, an old-fashioned thing with a glass front and faintly glowing buttons. A small crowd had gathered, some holding eggs that shimmered with warmth, others already introducing their newly hatched companions to the world.

You fed a coin into the slot, anticipation thrumming in your chest as. Light swirled within the chamber, forming the shape of an egg—

But something was wrong.

Instead of the warm glow of the other eggs, yours was a deep, icy blue. The second it materialized, the temperature dropped. A thin layer of frost spread beneath it, creeping outward in sharp, crystalline patterns. The air turned crisp, your breath misting in front of you.

Rowan took one look and backed away. "Nope. Absolutely not. That thing is cursed. You are on your own."

You barely heard her. The cold should’ve been biting, unbearable—but as you reached out, it didn’t sting. Didn’t hurt.

You lifted the egg carefully, cradling it against you. Beneath your touch, the frost settled.

"You're seriously keeping that?" Rowan asked, incredulous.

"Yeah. I think I am."

Taking care of the egg wasn’t easy.

It never warmed, never pulsed with life the way Rowan said hers had. Other people who had gotten lucky eggs spoke about how their eggs glowed, moved, or made soft noises from inside. Yours did nothing.

It just sat there, an unmoving sphere of frost.

And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to worry.

Even when Pebble curiously prodded at it with her tiny paws, even when Rowan kept side-eyeing it like it might explode, you simply… waited.

The egg sat in a nest of blankets on your desk, cold as ice but never spreading frost beyond its immediate space. When you touched it, the chill wasn’t painful, just sharp—like the crisp bite of winter air. You spoke to it sometimes, like it could hear you.

“I wonder what you’ll be,” you mused one night, resting your chin in your hand as you watched it. “Something fluffy? Something with wings?”

But on the third night, something changed.

crack.

You bolted upright, heart leaping, just as another fracture splintered across the egg’s icy surface.

"Oh, shit—"

The cold surged outward, a sudden blast of frigid air so intense it made the lights flicker. Pebble scurried under your bed with a startled squeak. Rowan, who had stayed over out of curiosity, jolted awake on your floor, rubbing her eyes blearily.

“What—” she started, but then the egg broke.

Not in gentle pieces.

It shattered.

Shards of ice burst outward, frost curling along the floor. You instinctively shielded your face, but the cold didn’t harm you. Instead, a figure emerged from the mist, stepping forward as if he’d been waiting for this moment.

Tall. Broad shoulders. White hair. Blue eyes.

He reached for you, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. He was freezing. Ice clung to his clothes, frost still trailing from his skin, but his hold was desperate.

Like he had been waiting an eternity to touch someone again.

"...You're real" he murmured against your shoulder, voice low, almost disbelieving. "You're here."

Rowan made a sound—half gasp, half incredulous choke. "Okay, WHAT—"

The man’s head snapped up. His arms tensed around you, and before you could blink, a blade materialized in his grip.

Rowan barely had time to move before he pointed it at her.

"Wait!" You moved, stepping in front of Rowan, shielding her with your body. “Stop! She’s not a threat!”

The cold thickened, sharp and heavy in the air. His grip on the weapon didn’t waver.

But then, his eyes met yours again.

And, slowly—reluctantly—he lowered the blade.

Rowan, to her credit, didn’t push.

After witnessing a fully grown man emerge from an ice egg and nearly skewer her with his weapon, she looked between you and him—expression torn between concern and absolute disbelief, then slowly exhaled.

"You know what? I’m gonna go."

"Rowan—"

"Nope. You two clearly have… whatever this is to sort out. And I, for one, do not want to be on the receiving end of a sword again.”

She grabbed Pebble—who had poked her head out from under the bed, curiosity outweighing her fear. “Text me if you need backup. Or if he starts doing creepy ice magic. Or if he tries to murder you in your sleep.”

“I won’t need backup.”

“You say that now.”

Then, with a final suspicious glance at Kevin—who had yet to move from where he stood, silently watching—she left.

The moment the door clicked shut, you turned back to the stranger in your room.

“Alright. Spill.”

He didn’t respond.

You crossed your arms. “Who are you?”

Silence.

“How did you come from the egg?”

Nothing.

“Why did you almost stab Rowan?”

Still nothing.

Your patience thinned. His unwillingness to speak was quickly becoming frustrating.

You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. “Look, you can’t just show up, nearly give my best friend a heart attack, hug me like you’ve known me for years, and then say nothing.”

“…Kevin.”

You frowned. “Kevin?”

“That’s… my name.”

Kevin.

The name felt familiar. Like a word on the tip of your tongue, just out of reach.

Your phone buzzed, breaking the tense silence. You glanced at the screen. A text from Rowan.

ran into my ex. send help. or maybe a meteor.

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head before replying.

You’ll survive. Just avoid eye contact.

Another buzz.

fine. but now you’re stuck babysitting ice man. enjoy.

You sighed, slipping your phone back into your pocket before turning to Kevin. “Looks like it’s just us for the night.”

His posture shifted slightly at that.

“…What does that mean?”

“It means I’m stuck taking care of you.” You stretched, rolling your shoulders before glancing back at him. “And since I doubt you’ve eaten in… well, ever, we’re getting food.”

"…Food?"

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. Dinner. You do eat, right?”

“…With you?”

“…Yeah,” you said, “With me.”

For the first time since he hatched, Kevin looked almost… happy.

Taking Kevin out in public turned out to be more of a spectacle than you anticipated.

From the moment you stepped into the restaurant, people stared.

You couldn’t exactly blame them. Kevin wasn’t exactly inconspicuous—towering over most of the patrons, clad in unfamiliar clothes, the way his presence seemed to subtly lower the temperature of the room—it was no wonder people were sneaking glances, whispering behind their hands.

Kevin, for his part, didn’t seem to care.

Every so often, his fingers would flex at his sides, like he was resisting the urge to reach for something.

You nudged him lightly. “Relax.”

He glanced at you. “…I am.”

“You look like you’re about to start a fight with the waiter.”

He didn’t respond, but his posture eased just slightly.

You reached the counter, scanning the menu before placing your order. When the cashier turned to Kevin expectantly, he hesitated—clearly unsure of what to do.

“Just get whatever looks good.”

He studied the menu for a moment before quietly repeating what you ordered.

The cashier, still eyeing him curiously, nodded and rang it up.

As you moved to find a seat, you caught snippets of hushed conversations.

“—he has to be a model, right?”

“Did you see his eyes? They glowed for a second, I swear—”

You glanced at Kevin to see if he noticed. If he did, he didn’t react. His focus remained entirely on you.

Even when you sat down, even as people continued stealing glances, his attention never strayed.

“…Do you always attract this much attention?”

“Attention?”

“The staring. The whispering. You’re kind of hard to ignore.”

He blinked, then looked around—like he was only just noticing the way people’s eyes flickered toward him before quickly looking away.

“I don’t care”

You exhaled, leaning back. “Of course you don’t.”

----

Life with Kevin was… an adjustment.

At first, he was quiet—always watching, always listening, rarely speaking unless spoken to. But the more time you spent together, the more he started to change. A comment here, a question there. Then, one day, Rowan nearly choked on her drink when he suddenly cracked a joke.

"Why did the scarecrow win an award?"

You and Rowan exchanged glances. "…Why?"

Kevin, completely deadpan: "Because he was outstanding in his field."

A beat of silence.

Then Rowan smacked you on the arm, wheezing. "What have you unleashed?!"

From that moment on, there was no stopping him. Every opportunity, every silence, every meal—another dad joke. Some so bad they made Rowan dramatically fake her own death on your couch. Others that made you snort into your drink when you least expected it.

And then there was the cooking.

Kevin, for all his strengths, sucked at it.

You tried to be patient. You really did. But after the third time he turned a simple omelet into something that looked—and smelled—like a crime scene, you had to intervene.

"Kevin. What did you do to this?"

He looked at the mess on the plate, completely unfazed. "I followed the instructions."

Rowan peered at the destruction. "…Did the instructions tell you to make it explode?"

He looked at the pan like it had personally betrayed him. "It didn’t do that last time."

"Last time?" you echoed in horror.

In the end, you took over the cooking duties, while Kevin begrudgingly stepped back—though not without very intense supervision.

"No, Kevin, you don't need to set the heat that high. Lower it. No, lower."

Despite all the chaos, it… worked.

Somehow, between Rowan’s teasing, Kevin’s terrible jokes, and your constant attempts to keep everything from burning down, the three of you settled into something that felt almost normal.

Kevin spoke more now. He wasn’t just an observer anymore. He and Rowan still had their moments (mostly involving his near-murder of her that first night), but they got along better than you ever expected.

And even though you didn’t have all the answers about him—where he really came from, what he was hiding—it didn’t feel like he was a stranger anymore.

He was just… Kevin.

---

The more time you spent with Kevin, the more you noticed something off.

It wasn’t just the cold that followed him. That, at least, you had gotten used to—the way the air seemed to crisp slightly when he was deep in thought, or how frost would creep along the glass whenever he stared too long out the window.

No, it was something else. The way his eyes would linger on the night sky, a faraway look in them. The way his posture would stiffen whenever a particular song played, or when Rowan made an offhand comment about history, or war, or things lost to time.

Like he was remembering something.

Something he refused to talk about.

“…Kevin?”

He didn’t answer at first.

Then, finally, he murmured, “The world feels… different.”

“Different how?”

He wasn’t sure how to explain it.

“Lighter.”

You stepped closer. “Is that… a bad thing?”

“…No,” he admitted. “But it makes me wonder.”

You tilted your head. “About what?”

“If this world was always like this… or if it was made this way.”

You didn’t understand what he meant.

----

You worked as a dungeon monitor—watching adventurers as they delved into the depths, tracking their progress, recording statistics, and ensuring that if something went horribly wrong, help could be dispatched.

That day, things almost went very wrong.

The team that entered was experienced—one of the best—but halfway through their expedition, the cameras cut out. The entire monitoring system flickered and failed, leaving your department blind to whatever was happening inside.

Then, the readings spiked.

Unstable energy fluctuations. High threat levels.

Something was in there with them.

You and the others scrambled to restore visuals, but it was useless. No way to see what they were facing, no way to tell if they were even still alive.

Then Kevin, who had been standing silently behind you the entire time, spoke.

“I’ll go.”

You turned to him, startled. “What?”

“I’ll go in.”

The room fell silent. Some of your coworkers exchanged uneasy glances. Others whispered among themselves, unsure whether to take him seriously.

“Kevin,” you said carefully, “we don’t know what’s in there.”

“I’ll handle it.”

You knew how strong he was. You’d seen glimpses of it—his unnatural speed, his ice-cold aura, the way he carried himself like someone who had fought things far worse than this.

But going in alone?

“…You sure?” you asked.

Instead of answering, he raised his hand.

A sudden heat flooded the room.

For a moment, you thought he had activated his ice abilities again—but then you saw it. The shift in temperature. The faint glow of embers at his fingertips, the flicker of something red-hot forming at his side.

The blade he summoned burned fiercely, searing through the cold that usually followed him. The contrast was almost unnatural—his frozen presence clashing with the heat of his weapon, a contradiction made real.

The room was dead silent.

Then Kevin turned, walking toward the entrance of the dungeon without another word.

Kevin returned an hour later.

Injured, bloodstained, but standing.

And he wasn’t alone.

One by one, he carried them out—some limping, some unconscious, some… unmoving. He didn’t stop. Even when his arm was clearly wounded, even when a deep gash trailed down his side, he did not leave a single body behind.

The survivors were in shock—some barely coherent, others whispering about what they had seen inside. About the monster.

About him.

The other department arrived shortly after—the clean-up team, tasked with handling whatever remained inside the dungeon. You sat with the injured, helping where you could, while Kevin leaned against a wall, silent as medics tended to him.

Then the reports started coming in.

The mess he left behind.

The ice-covered battlefield, frozen over in jagged, unnatural formations. The smoldering remains of the creature—the way its body had been carved through by searing heat, its flesh torn apart by both fire and frost.

The kind of destruction that shouldn’t have been possible by one man alone.

One of the cleanup officers returned, pale-faced and visibly shaken. He pulled you aside, voice low.

“That guy…” He glanced warily at Kevin, who hadn’t moved from where he sat, “What is he?”

You looked at Kevin—the quiet, frostbitten warrior who told dad jokes and failed miserably at cooking.

And the man who had just single-handedly taken down a monster that nearly wiped out an entire team.

“…He’s Kevin” you said simply.

The officer gave you an incredulous look, but you didn’t elaborate.

Because the truth was, you didn’t know either.

Kevin was quiet on the way home.

He was thinking.

When you finally reached your place, he sat on the couch, arms resting on his knees, gaze unfocused. His wounds had been patched up—though not without some grumbling from Rowan about how “mystery ice man is way too durable for his own good”—but he didn’t seem concerned about them.

If anything, he looked… frustrated.

You watched him for a moment before nudging his foot with yours. “Something on your mind?”

“…I shouldn’t have been injured.”

“Uh. What?”

Kevin frowned slightly, staring at the bandages on his arm. “Those attacks shouldn’t have hurt me. Not like this.” His fingers curled slightly. “I haven’t fully recovered.”

You exchanged glances with Rowan, who raised an eyebrow. “Recovered from what?”

His gaze flickered—first to you, then to Rowan, then back again.

“Something else isn’t right,” he murmured. “The effects of the dungeon. You should have been affected.”

You tilted your head. “We weren’t inside.”

“That doesn’t matter.” His brow furrowed. “The energy—its reach should have been wider. You were close enough to be impacted.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “But you weren’t.”

You exchanged another glance with Rowan.

Rowan crossed her arms. “I felt something,” she muttered. “Like a headache, maybe? It wasn’t great, but it didn’t kill me.”

Kevin seemed to consider that, his expression unreadable.

You, on the other hand, just shrugged. “I felt fine.”

That made him look at you again—longer this time, like he was trying to figure something out.

“…Why?”

You just huffed, flopping onto the couch beside him. “Maybe I’m just built different.”

Rowan snorted. “Or maybe you’ve been exposed to so much weird dungeon energy that your body just gave up trying to resist it.”

You rolled your eyes before nudging Kevin again. “Besides, why are you so surprised? You’ve literally been sitting in my apartment acting like a human air conditioner. Maybe I just got used to it.”

Kevin blinked.

Then blinked again.

“…You’ve been using me as an air conditioner?”

You shrugged. “It’s convenient.”

Rowan lost it. Kevin just stared at you, utterly unreadable.

----

Kevin didn’t hesitate.

The moment he got Rowan’s message “Emergency. We’re in trouble. Come fast.”—he was already moving.

By the time he arrived, the situation was bad.

Inside the monitoring room, you and your coworkers were forced to your knees, hands restrained, faces pale with fear. Armed men stood around you, their presence suffocating. And at the center of it all, towering over the rest, was a man—easily over six feet, built like a fortress, but it wasn’t just his size that put Kevin on edge.

It was the energy radiating from him.

The moment Kevin stepped in, every pair of eyes turned to him.

The leader grinned.

“There he is,” he rumbled, “The one we’ve been looking for.”

“You... were expecting me?”

The man spread his arms, like this was some grand occasion. “We search for power. Real power. And you…” His eyes gleamed. “You are exceptional.”

Kevin didn’t respond.

The man chuckled. “Come with us.”

Kevin’s eyes flickered—first to you, then to Rowan, then to the others.

Then, the man’s grin widened.

“But if you refuse,” he said, almost lazily, “I wonder… who will you save?”

At his signal, his men moved, pressing weapons closer to throats, tightening their hold.

He had to choose.

You, or the others.

The air turned ice-cold.

Kevin’s fingers twitched at his side, the temperature around him plummeting. The leader’s grin never wavered, but the air shimmered subtly around his body—like something unseen was suppressing the cold before it could reach him.

A countermeasure.

Kevin didn’t react, but you knew he noticed. Knew he was already calculating his next move.

Think, Kevin.

You weren’t the only ones in danger. Your coworkers—terrified, vulnerable—were too close. Too easy to kill. And these men… they weren’t bluffing.

The leader chuckled. “Decisions, decisions.”

Kevin didn’t hesitate. In an instant, he moved.

The shift was so fast it was almost imperceptible—one moment he was standing still, the next he was on them. His hand shot forward, ice crackling at his fingertips, aiming for the nearest enemy—

Only for the leader’s presence to surge.

A crushing force slammed into Kevin like a wall. His momentum stalled.

For the first time since you’d met him, Kevin staggered.

“Not so easy, is it?”

Kevin clenched his jaw, already adjusting, already adapting.

But you knew.

He wasn’t at full strength.

And these men knew exactly what they were doing.

The leader didn’t give Kevin time to recover.

Before Kevin could strike again, the pressure intensified—crushing, suffocating, like an invisible force pinning him in place. You saw his muscles tense, his body resisting, but for the first time, Kevin wasn’t just unstoppable.

He was being held back.

"You feel it, don't you?" he mused. "The weight? The restraint? It's designed for people like you. Those with overwhelming power, too dangerous to be left unchecked." He smirked. "You’re strong. But strength means nothing if you can’t use it."

"You have two options," the leader continued, gesturing to the hostages. "Join us, or decide which of them dies first."

The temperature spiked.

The suppression was strong, yes. But Kevin was adaptive. And right now, his ice was useless. But fire?

Fire was different.

And Kevin, despite his injuries, moved fast. In one swift motion, he grabbed you—yanked you toward him, shielding you with his body as a blast of heat surged through the room. The suppression cracked just enough for him to act.

But not without cost.

Because in that same moment, a blade slashed through his side.

The leader had expected this. Counted on it. And Kevin, despite his speed, despite his strength, wasn’t untouchable.

His body jerked slightly at the impact, but he didn’t stop. Instead, he twisted, using the momentum to hurl you out of immediate danger, straight into Rowan’s grasp.

Then he turned back to the fight.

He had made his choice.

He wasn’t going with them.

And he wasn’t letting them win.

The battle ended in chaos.

Kevin had won. The leader was down, the remaining men either unconscious or fleeing. The oppressive force that once restrained him was gone, shattered beneath his relentless strength.

But something was wrong.

Pain flared through your body—You barely registered the moment you collapsed, barely noticed the blood staining your clothes.

"No!"

He was at your side in an instant, faster than your mind could process. His hands hovered over, the fear in his eyes couldn't be hid.

Your breath came in ragged gasps. Distantly, you heard Rowan’s voice—panicked, but it was Kevin’s grip that stabilized you.

"Stay awake," he ordered, "You have to stay awake."

You tried to respond, tried to tell him you were fine, but the words wouldn't come.

Then, for the briefest moment, you saw something in his face—something haunted.

As if he had seen this before.

---

Relief flooded his expression when he realized you were still breathing, still alive. His hold tightened slightly, like he was afraid you’d slip away if he let go.

When you woke up, everything hurt.

Your vision was hazy, the dull beep of a heart monitor filling the quiet room. The air smelled of antiseptic, the blankets felt too stiff, and—

Why is there so much yelling?

“You don’t understand.” Kevin’s voice—low, firm, but unmistakably angry. “Let me in.”

“We can’t—” Someone—probably a nurse tried to reason with him, but Kevin wasn’t having it.

“Move.”

“Sir, we have rules—”

“Kevin, please,” Rowan’s voice now, exasperated and desperately apologetic. “You can’t just barge in like a walking snowstorm—”

“You think rules matter?” Kevin sounded genuinely offended. “Y/N almost died.”

You sighed, the noise barely above a whisper, but apparently, it was loud enough.

Because within seconds, the door slammed open.

Kevin stood there, looking like he was two seconds away from freezing the entire hospital. Rowan was right behind him, muttering rapid apologies to the poor staff, who were wisely keeping their distance.

“You’re awake.”

“…Yeah”

Kevin was at your side in an instant, looking you over, as if making sure you were still real. His fingers twitched—like he wanted to touch you but wasn’t sure if he should.

Rowan sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Okay, now that you’re here, can you stop acting like a wild animal?”

Kevin ignored her.

“…You’re okay?” His voice was quieter now, barely above a murmur.

You blinked up at him, tired but amused. “Dunno, Kev. You tell me. You’re the one scaring the doctors.”

Rowan snorted.

Kevin looked unimpressed. But the tension in his shoulders eased. Just a little.

Kevin didn’t leave your side after that.

Not when the doctors checked your vitals, not when Rowan tried to convince him to go home and rest, not when visiting hours technically ended. If anyone even thought about kicking him out, one look at his expression shut them up immediately.

You weren’t going to win this one.

So, you sighed, shifting slightly in bed. “Kevin.”

His attention snapped to you instantly.

“You don’t have to hover,” you muttered. “I’m not dying.”

Kevin didn’t look convinced. His gaze flickered to your bandages, to the faint strain in your voice. “…I won’t leave.”

Rowan groaned, rubbing her temples. “Of course you won’t.” But she didn’t argue anymore. Instead, she stood, stretching. “Fine. If you’re gonna stay, I’m going home. Someone has to make sure Pebble doesn’t eat my shoes.”

You gave her a weak thumbs-up as she left, mumbling something about ferrets and stress.

Then it was just you and Kevin.

He pulled a chair closer, settling in, still watching you carefully.

You raised an eyebrow. “Gonna stare at me all night?”

“…I can tell you a joke.”

Oh no.

You groaned, already regretting everything. “Kevin, no—”

He ignored you. “Why don’t skeletons fight each other?”

You turned your head, staring blankly at the ceiling. “Kevin.”

“Because they don’t have the guts.”

You made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a pained wheeze. “Please stop.”

Kevin almost looked pleased with himself. “You’re smiling.”

You wanted to be annoyed, but you couldn’t. Not really. Because for all his bad jokes, all his stubbornness, all his silence and hidden thoughts

Kevin had stayed.

[magicalbats]

Kinktober 2024 Day 18: Dan Heng x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 8087

Warnings: Afab!reader, heat/rut cycles, ABO inspired, "dragon magic", tentacles in pussy, tentacles in ass, anal sex, oviposition (in the butt), eggs, mentions of egg laying, breeding, birth, etc the whole nine yards lol

A/N: Did not mean for this one to get so damn long 😩

⭐

It’s not unusual for Dan Heng to shut himself up in his room for days at a time, but you can’t help noticing his continued absence during communal meals over the last week. Usually he’d at least come out long enough to eat once with the rest of the crew, maybe even twice if you were lucky, and you never thought much of it. This seems somehow different to you though. He wasn’t typically this elusive. 

So you finally ask March about it one day after not seeing hide nor tail of him, not even in passing, to which she offers up a great big shrug. She had no clue what was going on with him, only that he sometimes got like this seemingly out of the blue. The only consolation she has for you is that it wasn’t anything permanent and that he’d soon be back to his old self again as if it never even happened in the first place. That’s how it always went, or so she said. 

Still, you can’t help worrying about him and you lie in bed that night pondering the situation. There was a very compelling part of you that wanted to check in on him, just to make sure he really was okay, but the logical part of your mind not ruled by emotion insists that it was probably best to let him have his space. You’re admittedly rather torn over what to do, especially when you were starting to feel a little stir crazy on this desolate stretch of the star rail where you didn’t have much of anything to do before the next warp jump. 

Under normal circumstances you would have spent this time together with March and Dan Heng, both together as a group and also individually to help wile away the amber hours, but after the impromptu makeover March had given you last night … you just don’t feel quite up to another evening spent in her room. You wanted to go hang out in the quiet, relaxing space of Dan Heng’s, if you were being honest. Badly, in fact. 

There just wasn’t a whole lot to entertain yourself with or even to look at in yours, still largely as empty and unoccupied as it was when it was first given to you, save the handful of bits and baubles you’ve picked up thus far on your journey. The data bank room where Dan Heng set up camp was far more interesting in comparison and there was always something for you to look at or mess with. Even if the two of you just sat in silence together while he read a book or logged information into the terminal, it still would have been preferable to this. 

That thought is what ultimately sways your decision after much uncertain flip flopping on the matter, and you hop up from your bed to pad towards the door. You don’t bother with shoes, since his room was right next to yours, and you quietly creep out into the hall as carefully as you can manage. 

Tip toeing over to the neighboring door, you surreptitiously glance either way down the softly rumbling train car to ensure no one was coming who would question what you were up to before reaching up to lightly rap at the sliding panel. You receive no answer at all so you try calling out to him next, mindful of keeping your voice in check. 

“Dan Heng? Are you awake?” 

Nothing. Not even a peep. 

If you hadn’t known any better, you might have thought he wasn’t even there at all but that didn’t make any sense. Where else could he have possibly gone? 

Feeling a tinge of doubt curl through your chest, you shuffle close to lean into the door and press your ear against it, holding your breath while you listen. It takes a long beat for your hearing to fully tune in to the other side of the sturdy barrier but then you hear it. A very soft rumble that sounds suspiciously like a groan, so faint as to be almost imperceptible, and your brows promptly take an expedient trip up to your hairline. Was he alright in there? 

“Dan Heng?” You try again, a little louder this time. 

Still, he doesn’t respond and you don’t dare raise your voice any more than that, so you decisively reach for the handle to yank it open. If he had a problem with it then you’d happily apologize for intruding upon his space like this, but you weren’t going to pretend like you hadn’t heard anything. If he was sick or somehow injured in there you’d never be able to forgive yourself for walking away. 

With a sharp little clatter, the door slides open in a rush and the first thing you’re immediately struck by is the smell. It’s not bad per say, just strong and cloying, like incense almost. Except there is no telltale smoke lingering in the air, nor is there any apparent source for it as far as you can see. The heady rush to your olfactory system slams into you like a brick and you stumble slightly, hand coming up to brace on the doorway to steady yourself while creeping concern rushes into the forefront of your mind. 

The second thing you notice are the small plates and empty glasses neatly stacked up on the corner of the data bank’s control panel, and you understand that that must mean he’s been sneaking out at some point to grab food from the mess hall. You’re not sure when he’s found the chance to creep around while completely avoiding detection when it seemed like someone was always up doing something somewhere on the Express. If it wasn’t you and March fooling around then it was Pompom cleaning or Welt going for one of his daily strolls through the train cars to get his exercise in. How in the world had he avoided being seen for almost a whole week now? 

The third and final thing you notice is that even at your sudden entrance into his room, Dan Heng still doesn’t give any kind of response and in fact seems not to even notice his area has been rudely intruded upon at all. It’s not hard to figure out why that was though, and a shocked little gasp rattles inside your chest as you lift a hand to your mouth. 

Back towards the corner of the shelves where Dan Heng usually kept his simple roll out bed, he’d amassed a small nest of pillows and blankets which he was currently laid out on top of. The fact he’s completely naked isn’t even the most surprising part, although that does catch you decidedly unawares for how unexpected it is. What really registers in your dumbstruck mind as alarming though are the faint, nearly translucent appendages sprouting out of his backside and his head, clearly visible to the eye and yet not fully formed in reality. 

In a far off, dreamy sort of way you recognize them as being physical traits of his other form, the other Dan Heng you’d seen only twice before, but you don’t understand how that could be, or why. He still looks like his usual self otherwise, his dark, fluffy soft hair short rather than long and silken. His ears were also rounded like a humans, too, rather than pointed. 

Just what the hell was going on here? 

Jittery and awkward, you self consciously close the door behind you so no one else can happen by and see him in such a brazen state of undress. You’re already feeling guilty enough about barging in here as it is without adding any more people into the equation. 

In truth you’re not even entirely sure what you’re doing now as you carefully step across the room to approach him, wondering if perhaps you should have just quietly excused yourself and returned to your room for the night. There’s an insistent tug of concern pulling on your gut though and, keeping your footsteps light so as not to startle him too badly, you shuffle up to his little mound of bedding. This is so far removed from what you’d expected to find in coming here that you can’t even really make sense of what he’s doing until you watch him shudderingly flex his hips in a slow, savory grind that drags his leaking cock over the mass of fabric bunched underneath him, the spectral length of his tail flicking aggressively through the air. 

That manages to stop you dead in your tracks and you just stare down at him for a harrowingly long beat, cheeks burning hot enough to cook an egg on. 

Oh. So that’s what he was doing. 

“Dan Heng? A - are you alright?” 

He jolts at the sound of your voice so very close to him, sucking in a painfully sharp breath as he shoves up to twist around and look back at you. Wide eyed and flushed, he just stares in bewildered silence as if he simply couldn’t make any sense of what he was seeing and you honestly couldn’t blame him for that. You were having a hard time wrapping your head around this too. 

“Wh - … what are you doing here?” He finally whispers, his voice throaty and gruff with a masculine edge you’d never heard from him before. 

Nervously shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you have to make a conscious effort not to look at his upturned backside even though he was still laying sprawled out over top of all those blankets, like some ancient god of myth at leisurely rest. Out of respect for him, of course, and not because you were so deeply embarrassed by what you’d walked in on. 

“I was just worried about you so I … I wanted to come check that you were okay. We haven’t seen you in a while. I’m sorry for, uh, interrupting.” 

His dark brows slowly draw inward, creating a wretched little wrinkle between them when he heaves a frustrated breath out through his mouth. “You shouldn’t be in here right now. I’m not feeling very up to entertaining anyone at the moment. You’ve caught me at a bad time, I’m afraid.” 

You think that must be the understatement of the century but you don’t say that, a little too transfixed on the not quite solid horns that are coming out of his head. “I can see that. Are you alright? I’ve never seen you like this before.” 

“And I’d planned to keep it that way.” He groggily murmurs, making it clear to you now that this was indeed the Dan Heng you were used to if he could still think up smarmy little quips to toss around, but the slowed speech and vague slur in his voice almost makes it sound like he’s drunk. 

You’re nearly certain that’s not what’s going on here though, and you cautiously kneel down next to him on the floor to look at him head on. “Can you tell me what’s happening?” 

Drawing a slow, tortured breath in through his nose, Dan Heng haltingly fists his hands in the rumpled ball of sheets underneath him as if to physically hold himself in check. “I’d rather not but you’re already here so I suppose I may as well. To be honest I’m not even sure if you’re going to believe me but … as you know by now I’m a Vidyadhara, yes? Well, it’s because of that. I’ve gone into a kind of rut.” 

You wrack your brain for a moment, trying to recall  the meaning of that word. “As in — for mating? But I thought - -“ 

“I know.” He cuts you off with a low, tortured hiss, fingers painfully clenching in the sheets as his not quite material dragon's tail irritably whips a frustrated arc through the air. “But just because we can’t reproduce it doesn’t mean the biological functionality completely stops working too. If you, for example, were infertile that doesn’t necessarily equate to the total loss of your menses. You may still have a period even if fertilization is impossible.” 

Your mouth drops open in abject shock to gape at him as if he’s just grown a second head. What the — 

“How do you know about that?” 

Dan Heng scoffs a quiet little laugh, pinning you with a very strained, very sweaty look. “Please. Do you really think I can’t smell it? My nose is sharper than yours so I always know when you, or March or even Miss Himeko are going through your cycles. In fact …” 

He trails off, shuttered blue eyes sliding to the side with a vaguely guilty look, or at least that’s what you think it is. 

Your curiosity is piqued though, and you find yourself attentively leaning forward to hang off his every word. “In fact what? Tell me, Dan Heng. Please?” 

“Well, it’s just,” Still hesitating, he stiffly tries to rouse himself from his prone position on top of the nest he’s made but he seems to have trouble making his limbs cooperate. Seething a dull hiss of frustration, he reluctantly sinks back down to hang his head low between his faintly trembling shoulders, trying to steady his breath. “It’s a shameful thing to admit out loud, but I can smell everything. When you’re on your period and … when you’re ovulating too. I know when you’re at your most fertile and I — unfortunately I think my biological cues may have synced up with yours.” 

The full weight of that information is so crushing that it almost leaves you feeling numb in the wake of such an unexpected bombshell. He was synced up with you and not anyone else? 

Somewhat shyly bringing your hand up to protectively curl it over your stomach, you flounder for something even remotely intelligent to say to that. “Does that mean … you’re like this because of me right now?” 

“It’s not your fault.” He insists, forcing his face back up to look over at you, offering his best attempt at a reassuring smile. “I’m not sure why it happened with you and not the others, but sometimes these things just happen. I’ll be alright so please don’t worry about me. It’s okay if you want to go back to your room now.” 

You know that’s his polite way of saying ‘please go back to your room’ so he can deal with this on his own, and you’re almost compelled to listen without stopping long enough to question it when you were feeling more than a bit out of sorts yourself. But something makes you hesitate, a small frown tugging at your mouth now as you look him over again. Naked as he is, you can clearly see that every inch of him is coated in a fine sheen of sweat that makes his creamy skin glisten slightly under the overhead lights, like he was burning up from within. That probably half explained his lack of clothes. 

The other reason must surely be his stiff cock which, even though you’d tried very hard not to look at it over the last few minutes, you can’t help but notice hasn’t flagged at all while the two of you were talking. He must have been in an awful physical state then if being walked in on like this hadn’t deterred his body in the slightest. And to think this was all because of you, intentionally or not. 

It’s almost impossible not to feel at least a little guilty about it, yes, but even putting that aside you felt strangely inclined to help him. Regardless of any personal responsibility you held here, he was still your friend wasn’t he? That warranted at least an attempt, you quickly decide. 

Determined and vindicated in equal measure, you nudge closer to him on the floor rather than getting up to leave, and that clearly surprises him a great deal. Stammering a soft sound of fluster, Dan Heng visibly recoils from the hand you reach out with but he still can’t seem to find the strength to truly pull away and put some (no doubt much needed) distance between you and him. Your fingers touch his shoulder, gently at first and then more firmly when all he does is suck in a ragged inhale, staring at you in wide eyed confusion. 

His stiffly locked frame only puts up a cursory amount of resistance when you carefully guide him over to his side and then further onto his back where he can questionly peer up at you without having to crane his neck around. It also allows his cock to spring up from his body to stand straight in the air, wobbling slightly as if to indicate his uncertainty. You feel a little uncertain too, looking at it like that, but you remind yourself to stay focused as you cautiously reach out as if to grab him. 

“Wait.” He hisses, snagging your wrist to stop its forward motion. “What are you doing? This is - -“ 

“I just want to help you. This will make you feel better, right?” 

“You —!” Seething through tightly clenched teeth, Dan Heng squeezes his eyes shut as if to reign in his self control and ground himself before he goes on. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. This isn’t something for you to take care of.” 

Your heart wrenches slightly at that. “Why not?” 

“Our body’s aren’t built the same, for starters. When Vidyadhara mate it isn’t … it’s not something for humans to experience.” 

Feeling his hand quake slightly where it’s still grasping onto your arm, you take a moment to thoughtfully drag your attention across his bare body. “You look pretty human to me.” 

“That doesn’t matter.” Clicking his tongue, he rolls his head back against the mass of blankets to look elsewhere, evidently anywhere else but at you. Guilty, or perhaps ashamed. “You saw the eggs in Scalegorge Waterscape, didn’t you?” 

For a horribly long stretch you’re not quite sure what to say to that while your mind frantically trips over that information. You were learning so much about the dragon species, none of which you’d thought to know before now, and it’s a difficult thing to fully wrap your head around it. Surely he wasn’t implying that … 

You send another cautious glance at his cock, still flushed and excessively weeping from the tip. “You mean those huge eggs came out of there?” 

“What? No. Not like that.” His chest slowly expanding with the deep, wavering breath he sucks in, Dan Heng rouses himself enough to lift his neck so he can look at you again. Sending you a guarded look, he roves his attention down to peer over himself and you follow his lead, watching him slowly bring his opposite hand up to loosely curl the fingers around his shaft. “At one time female Vidyadhara did lay eggs during the reproduction cycle but … hnng, now we’re just shooting blanks, for lack of a better term. It’s too complicated to explain right now but — even these small eggs that haven’t been incubated to maturity are still too large for your body to easily take. I appreciate your concern but - -“ 

“No.” You cut him off, using your best tone of stern reprimand to make his attention flick back up. “I want to help you, Dan Heng, and that’s what I’m going to do. Not to make up for something I didn’t even realize I was doing but because you’re my friend. I don’t like seeing you like this. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.” 

Full on groaning now, he once again tips head back while he stiffly twitches there on the floor, the hand around his cock giving it a tight, desperate squeeze as if to dissuade his impending release. You watch in rapt fascination as a fat, glistening bead of clear discharge surfaces on the tip of him where it hovers for a static moment before slowly oozing down the side of his length. It’s clearly taking everything he has to keep his self control in check instead of letting himself get caught up in those rioting urges, and you think it all the more admirable of him. Something told you not many men could keep such a tight leash on the instinctive, hard coded urge to breed like this. 

But that’s all the more reason why Dan Heng deserved your help, wasn’t it? How long had he been suffering like this all alone? Was it always this bad or was your presence just one room over making it worse for him? Even if he seemed sure that your body couldn’t reasonably handle it, you still had to try. 

Letting him keep his hold on your arm where he’s still clutching it in an iron fist, you bring your opposite hand up to carefully touch fingertips to his tense thigh. He jolts so hard you almost think you’ve electrocuted him via static shock, but he just groans all the harder instead of moving to push you away. The tail that isn’t really there lashes out across the floor to whip another serpentine arc before curling inward to almost possessively wrap around your waist. 

That nearly manages to startle you, especially when you realize you can feel a faint hint of contact despite its immaterial nature. It’s so light and distant that you idly wonder if you’re only imagining the vague sensation of fleshy scales pressing into you but you quickly decide it’s as good a sign as any. Although his hold around your middle was loose and tentative, he wasn’t pushing you away and you take that as your sign to keep going. 

So you slide your fingers higher on a sure and steady trajectory, caressing over Den Heng’s shuddering hip to join him in taking hold of his weakly twitching length. While he holds the base tight enough to make his knuckles turn white, you gently wrap your hand around the top half to feel the sticky smear of discharge on your palm. His stomach flexes so dramatically with the tortured gasp he sucks in that this, too, nearly makes you second guess yourself. 

But the more you linger there touching him, the more he seems to slip into the heady daze that fogs his mind. You can see it clearly in the darkening flush that stains his cheekbones, the excess of sweat pouring out of him, and the heavy lidded quality of his eyes. He really did look drunk, if you were being honest. 

And finally he lets out a threadbare, needy little sound as his gaze unsteadily comes up to peer over at you again. You can tell he wants to give in, needs to find an outlet for these mind numbing urges that are clearly wreaking havoc on his body, but he still has misgivings about going through with this. You steadily meet his gaze though, trying to silently impart upon him that you were serious and you wouldn’t be going anywhere until something has been done about this. 

The moment the scales start to tip is reflected in his glistening eyes, as clear as day, and he at last wheezes a softly rattling breath into the air. “Are you sure you want to do this?” 

“Positive. Just walk me through it.” 

“Oohhn … then — take off your clothes. All of them. So we don’t soil them.”

His fingers tremble fiercely when he pries them off you, giving you your freedom to lean back and get to work. You don’t think you’ve ever undressed quite so quickly in your entire life, and the warm pulse of excitement you feel low in your gut now almost surprises you. It’s not so strange though, you think, tossing everything aside piece by piece into a messy pile. As he’d already pointed out, you were in the middle of ovulating so your pussy was feeling extra sensitive and gooey anyway, and the close proximity of his naked body coupled with that oddly cloying smell in the air was only making it worse. 

Your nipples are already standing up in stiff, aching points by the time you get the final layer of your bra tugged off, and you shudder sensitively at the sensation of them cutting through the air as much as at Dan Heng’s heated stare burning into your bare skin. Settling in next to him once again, you anxiously look for him for his next instruction. 

“What now?” 

“I’ll have to — prep you first before we can go any further. Like I said, your body isn’t … made for this kind of reproduction. My spend won’t have anywhere to go if I take you here.” Listlessly curling his hand towards you, Dan Heng nudges the pad of one blocky finger between your thighs to pointedly touch your cunt. You suck in a frazzled breath at the contact for as brief as it is, eyes widening slightly at him, but he just continues on. “And we’ll only make a big mess when all is said and done. I’m going to do my best to make it pleasurable for you too though.”

Stiltedly nodding your head, you eagerly scoot even closer until your knee brushes against his thigh. “I trust you. What should I do?” 

“Come here.” 

At the deliberate nudge of his hand, you carefully push up to lean over him. You’re not quite sure what to do with your hands, a little worried about hurting him if you were to brace your weight along his abdomen, so you stretch further out to brace against the sheets on either side. Panting softly now, Dan Heng brings his hands up to work them under your arms so he can nudge you further up against him. The motion tugs you off balance enough that you slip forward to lay out across the front of him, squeaking a tiny little sound of surprise when he insistently pulls you closer to his face. 

Once he’s got you situated on his chest, he cranes his neck up to catch your mouth with his in a tentative, experimental kiss. An intense shudder works through you despite how gentle and fleeting the sensation is, moaning a quiet sound into his lips as you slowly melt into him. He was a surprisingly good kisser … 

That careful push and pull encourages you to relax on top of him and it doesn’t take long for you to notice your pussy starting to ooze eager slick in response to his steady ministrations. It’s surprising, in a way, how readily your body reacts to him, but you don’t stop long enough to truly question it. 

Clearly feeling when your natural defenses start to come down, Dan Heng lets his hands wander over your shoulders and further down to caress along your ribs, your waist and then your hips. Even when his need was so great you could feel it coursing through him and vibrating like an active livewire, he still takes his time with it to warm you up, ensuring you were truly ready before he begins in earnest. 

It’s only when you finally start to get a little antsy, fidgeting against his body, do you finally feel something soft and vaguely wet nudge at your cunt. So dazed and caught up in the moment, you don’t even think to question it at first when you were just glad that he was touching you there at all. But then you realize both of his hands are still roaming over your back to squeeze and grope at love handles, tugging you even further against him, and you don’t think it’s his cock either … 

Forcing yourself to pull away from his mouth with a warbling sound of confusion, you twist around to peer back behind you in search of the source. At first you can’t quite make sense of what you’re seeing, that shuddering incandescent specter moving sedately between your thighs in a decidedly snake-like manner. And then it takes another gentle swipe at you, running from the starting seam of your cunt straight up to the wrinkled pucker of your asshole, and you outright jolt. 

It wasn’t his tail which had protectively curled itself around your calves, but something else entirely. 

“Wh - -“

“Don’t worry. It's just some of my power leaking out.” He murmurs, pulling your attention back around. 

“You mean like … the horns and tail?” 

Offering a stiff nod, Dan Heng slides his hands forward along your ribcage to gently nudge you into sitting up just enough to lift your tits from his chest. A deeply ruffled, shuddering exhale slips out of you when he redirects them around to grope at you, offering your breasts a careful squeeze that makes the nipples drag over his calloused palms. It almost makes you sway there on top of him, moaning a lilting sound into the air. 

While he diligently plays with your chest, pinching and tweaking at the sensitive buds to make them ache, you can feel that — immaterial tentacle working to spread your cunt open. You can’t think of anything else to call it when it was long and very reminiscent of a curling snake, wriggling around as if with a mind of its own behind you. And when it at last manages to nudge up against your entrance where it ever so slowly begins to push inside, you outright choke on a half stifled gasp. 

Although it wasn’t nearly as firm and real as Dan Heng is underneath you, there was still a certain tangible quality to it that leaves you trembling at the staggered stretch it puts on your guts. You have a split second, delirious thought that this must be what it feels like to be penetrated by a ghost, but the thought abruptly cuts off when he bends his face close to snag one of your nipples in his mouth. 

Tossing your head back to keen up at the ceiling, you stiffly hang there in the balance while he suckles your straining teat to heightened sensitivity and the spectral manifestation of his Vidyadhara power gradually worms its way into your body. Alarm almost registers in your hazy mind when you realize how good it actually feels being pulled between the two equally unrelenting forces, but you don’t get the chance to linger on it for very long. 

That not quite there tentacle shudders and wriggles inside you to make more room for itself so it can reach further in, steadily stuffing your cunt full until your toes start to painfully curl. It doesn’t exactly hurt yet it’s an exceedingly strange sensation to wrap your head around when it almost felt like your pussy was stretching open around nothing at all. There’s no resistance, barely any sense of friction, and you finally give in to the urge to mindlessly writhe, pushing back on the presence behind you with a faltering moan. 

Dan Heng softly shushes you, taking a quick, savory nip at your fattened nipple before turning his head to switch to the other. At the same time, the tentacle starts to move in earnest, carefully thrusting its long, squirming length in and out to make your pussy wetly click. Frantically clutching at his broad shoulders, you quickly give yourself over to that insistent pressure and roll your hips into it, outright quaking with pleasure. 

You’re so caught up in it, in fact, that you almost don’t even notice a second snaking tendril coming up to deliberately nudge at your clit. Issuing a startled little squeak at the unexpected sensation, you stiffly lurch forward as if to lift your hips and escape its attack, but Dan Heng holds you tight. There’s no way for you to wiggle yourself free like this and you have no choice but to sit there and take it, juddering uncontrollably while the pressure in you rapidly swells. 

Your first orgasm hits you almost embarrassingly fast, helpless to do anything else except cum when you were being relentlessly tweaked and sucked, and fucked from both ends. Clenching your teeth to stop the frantic wail rising in your throat, you viciously seethe and ride out the mercilessly crashing waves of your release while your pussy spasms around what amounts to nothing. It’s enough to almost have your eyes rolling back in your head, and you drunkenly sway on top of him when the high finally starts to dwindle a long stretch of moments later. 

Left raggedly panting in the aftermath, all you can do is bonelessly sink into him with a warm, content little groan of satisfaction. The spot between your legs feels like an even goopier mess than before, all warm and sticky, and stuffed full. But then, to your shuddering disappointment, the tentacle starts to pull out of you with a slimy wriggle, dragging the sensation of copious arousal right to your entrance where it finally slips free with a noisy squelch. 

Sensitively twitching at the sound, you quietly groan under your breath as you peer down into Dan Heng’s face when he finally releases your aching teat from his mouth. Both have been left flushed and swollen in the wake of his attention, and they fleshily drag across his chest as you lean down to kiss him again, which he happily reciprocates. 

He’s left you in such a deeply gratified state that you’ve almost forgotten why you were even doing this in the first place, so punchdrunk on fast pumping endorphins and the intoxicating smell of him that you could have easily dozed off right then and there. 

But then, to your surprise, he pulls back just enough to speak against your lips, murmuring a soft, “Don’t tense up. Just relax into it.” 

Rousing slightly from your comfortable daze, you start to question him but the words catch in your throat when you suddenly feel that tentacle — still coated in sticky, vicious slick — swiping over your asshole to coat it in the clinging discharge. A mildly horrified tremor works through you, and you suck in a rough gasp as you start to push up, but Dan Heng holds you tight to stop it. 

“It’s okay, I promise.” He soothes you, trying to keep his voice light and reassuring despite the eager inflection. “I know this probably isn’t ideal for you but it’s the best way to do this, trust me. I’m not going to hurt you. Take a deep breath.” 

That’s easy enough for him to say, but it’s much harder for you to listen to reason when that ghostly tendril behind you was insistently circling the rim of your hole to ensure it was thoroughly lubricated on the outside. Your heart feels like it’s going to jackhammer straight out of your chest as you fidget on top of him, trying in vain to angle your backside away but it’s no use. The smooth, vaguely fleshy tip just follows after you and insistently presses in on the center wrinkle, putting enough pressure on the muscle to make it slowly start to give. 

“W - wait, that’s - -!” 

He shushes you again, raggedly panting underneath you while the tentacle squirms and wriggles its way into your body to just dip past the inner rim of your entrance. The sensation of your sphincter relenting to grant it entry almost registers in your mind like a distant pop and you lurch in place, woundedly groaning as it starts to steadily reach in deeper now that it’s past that initial barrier. 

At the same time the second tendril on your aching clit continues to gently swipe back and forth over the sensitized pleasure button as if to soothe and comfort you. It doesn’t really work though when you were being penetrated from behind like this, helplessly juddering as you're gradually forced to take more and more. And it’s the same as it had been when it was your cunt being stretched open around something that wasn’t actually there, your ass opening up around what tangibly feels like nothing. 

It’s a struggle to make any sense of it or comprehend the full scope of what’s actually happening, your mouth hanging open on an overwhelmed, silent scream. It feels like too much for your body to handle, especially when it gradually begins to move in a slow motion thrust that just tests the give of your inner sleeve to ensure you wouldn’t tear. 

“Nnghn, D - Dan Heng, I can’t - -“ 

“I know. I'm sorry. Just bear with it a little longer, alright? I promise it’ll be over soon.” 

Not soon enough, you think, seething through the odd discomfort that comes with being penetrated like this. It doesn’t exactly hurt when the wriggling tentacle was smooth and narrow enough not to put too much strain on your weakly fluttering guts, but it’s something you’re not used to and you’re not quite sure how to relax into it. Every time you try your ass just hollowly contracts around its slim girth, forced to stay wedged open despite the desperate clench of muscle. Even worse is the fact you can feel your cunt steadily drooling yet more eager slick in response to the unfamiliar stimulation, somehow still not at all deterred even now. 

All you can do is endure it over the next odd minutes while he takes his time carefully making sure your hole is loosened enough for whatever he planned to do next. Given what he’d said about eggs earlier you had some ideas, of course, but you’re a little too caught up in the total onslaught to your body to think that far back. The only thing you were conceivably aware of in that moment was the longer that tentacle squirms around inside your ass the more excited you got. 

It doesn’t even really make any sense, in all actuality, and yet you don’t think to protest when it finally starts to slide out of you, dragging against your guts until it can slip completely out of your weakly clenching entrance. You sway dizzily at the sensation of your ass swollen and puffy, prepped to accept something bigger, yet say nothing against it when Dan Heng manages to gather enough energy to push up on his elbows and carefully slide you down next time in the nest of sheets. 

Moving gingerly slow, he crawls over top of you and stretches out to grab something just over your head. Blinking dazedly, you tip your head to see what he’s doing only to feel a pang of surprise when you realize he’s grabbing a small bottle of proper lubricant that was half hidden behind the corner of the shelf. So he hadn’t needed to use your own pussy slick to - -

“Sorry.” He murmurs, sounding truly apologetic as he pulls back enough to flip the little cap open. “I got so caught up in the moment that I was just doing what felt natural but … I realized this wasn’t going to work without the proper tools. You’re too tight.” 

You’re not sure how you possibly manage to blush under these circumstances, but you find yourself pinning him with a flustered scowl all the same. “Next time I’ll make sure to prep before I come to your room then.” 

Dan Heng hesitates at that, sending a briefly concealed look from under the fringe of his sweat matted bangs, and you quickly snap your mouth shut when you realize what you’d just said. Was there really going to be a next time? And would you really take the time to properly prepare for it? 

You don’t know about that just yet, but as you watch him carefully gather your knees under his arms so he can lean forward and bend you in half to leave your cunt and ass fully exposed to him, you think you might. Not only did he look frustratingly good hovering over you like this, all covered in sweat and tense with aching anticipation, but the heavy bob of his cock between your legs … even if this wasn’t exactly what you’d envisioned it was still undeniably exciting. 

“Scoot a little lower, if you can.” 

Letting out a shuddering breath, you comply with an eager wriggle that nudges you further into the space between his braced knees. It forces your legs into a deeper bend too, nearly bringing them right down to your chest, and you hold your breath as he brings the bottle down to squirt a healthy dollop over your waiting pucker. 

You hiss softly at the cool sensation, fidgeting restlessly underneath him, but Dan Heng stays focused on the task at hand. After setting the lube aside where it wasn’t likely to get knocked over, he reaches back down to loosely curl his fingers around the shaft so he can guide it towards your entrance. 

“I’m going to stick it in now.” He warns, groaning so heavily you almost can’t make out what he’s saying. “Just tell me if it hurts and I’ll stop to give you a break but — ooughhn, I don’t think this is going to take very long.” 

A violent shudder works through him, nearly bowling him over right on the spot as he sensitively lurches over you. It’s like his hips have a mind of their own now and they stiffly flex, pushing closer to you on a steady trajectory guided by his shaking hand. The fleshy glans presses into your waiting ass, your breath catching in your throat at the stark difference between this and the spectral tentacle. He’s firm and warm, and alive against you, and your pussy positively weeps when he starts to cautiously push in. 

The raised rim of your entrance readily accepts him, much to your gasping surprise, spreading open under the pressure to cling to the glans and then the shaft, and then more of the shaft until he’s sheathed half of the way inside you on a single, stilted thrust. This is very different from before and you wildly shudder at the full brunt of this kind of penetration, helplessly squirming on his cock where he’s got you impaled. 

He doesn’t seem to be doing much better than you as he hovers there for a long moment, just trying to ground himself by the looks of it. But he seems to be losing the fight and he screws his eyes shut with a ragged, almost painful hiss as he leans into you to settle his weight and let gravity do the rest of the work. The resulting, tortuously stilted slide of his flesh along your inner sleeve has your legs uselessly twitching in the air, yet you make no attempt to stop him or his inward push. 

All at once he’s pressed flush against your vulnerably upturned cheeks, and he immediately succumbs to the potent rush of sensation mixed with the overwhelming flood of pheromones that abruptly grabs him in a chokehold. Painfully stiff and halting, Dan Heng snarls a low sound of deeply felt pleasure while his body trembles and his cock wildly flexes inside you. 

At first you’re not entirely sure what you’re feeling, that incredibly hot, sticky surge inside your ass that seems to shoot almost uncomfortably deep. In a far off, dreamy sort of way you do realize he’s cumming, and you can’t really hold it against him when he’d been suffering this whole time without relief. Letting him deposit his thick load in your ass only seemed like the least you could do. 

But then you feel a strange sensation, a deep throb from him that makes your cunt squeeze tight and clench around nothing. It pulses once, twice, three times — getting stronger and more attention grabbing with each repetition — until on the fourth you feel something solid pass from him to you. 

It’s not very big, he’d been right about that, evidently, but it’s noticeable enough to alarm you, and your eyes widen up at him in utter disbelief. He’d been serious about the eggs? Was he — was Dan Heng really depositing a clutch of eggs into your guts? 

You almost don’t believe it, your dumbstruck thoughts screeching to a sudden and immediate standstill as you just lie there, staring up at him in perplexed silence while he uncontrollably shudders. He’s too caught up in it to look back at you though, heaving through the spasming throb when it starts up again. One, two, three — and on the fourth you once again feel a fat little something push into you. 

Finally rousing from your shock enough to noise a horrified sound, you fumble to push yourself upright but there’s nowhere for you to go. He’s got you so thoroughly pinned underneath him in this position that you’d have to untangle your limbs before you could even think about scuttling away. Seething viciously through your teeth, you just look down at the spot between your legs where his dark, curly pubic hair tangles with yours, wishing you could see what was happening. 

Again and again, one right after another, those deep pulses start up and he just keeps steadily filling you over the next few minutes until you start to understand why he couldn’t do this in your pussy. He was right about that too, you’re more than a bit chagrined to find, and you think you probably would have laughed if only you’d had the oxygen to do so. 

By the time the throbbing flex of his cock finally starts to slow down there are so many eggs in you that you not only feel them pushing in much too deep on your guts to be comfortable, but you can also see the distention of your stomach where they were forcing it out just enough to create a little pouch. In total you’d counted at least twenty, but you’d stopped keeping track at a certain point when your reeling mind simply couldn’t take it anymore. You’d never seen anything like it, never felt anything like it, and the worst part was by far the way all that insistent pressure on your inner sleeve made your pussy feel so painfully empty. 

And finally, when you’re not so sure you can take much more, Dang Heng at last wheezes a deeply relieved sound, going slack and boneless over top of you while he gasps for air. It takes him a very long moment to start recovering, and he gingerly eases back to carefully slip his rapidly softening cock out of you. The way he grimaces and whines softly under his breath seems to suggest it’s quite sore and sensitive in the aftermath, which doesn’t exactly come as a surprise, considering. 

But what does surprise you is when he at last slips free and you feel something pop right out of you, chasing after him. Your sphincter is much too stretched and loosened to stop it, and your eyes widen to the approximate size of dinner plates when you desperately try to crane your neck up enough to see what it is. 

“I’m so sorry.” He groans, sucking in a faltering inhale while he too tips his face down to look. 

Managing to get your upper body elevated enough with no shortage of effort when your stomach felt so strangely round and heavy, you come to a sudden, jolting stop when you glance between his legs. 

Sitting unassuming on the rumpled sheets is an egg. An honest to god egg. No bigger than the chicken variety Pompom occasionally used to make breakfast with, when they had the supply for it, and it was still coated in a sticky viscosity that makes you feel dizzy. That’s what was inside of you? But … but there were so many, and Dan Heng had just transferred them all to you through his cock? 

You shoot the appendage in question a disbelieving look, unsurprised to find it soft and tender now, at complete odds with the almost aggressive erection he’d had when you first walked in. No wonder he was totally exhausted and spent after that. And next it would be your turn to labor through the process of birthing them all, one by one until there was nothing left except an empty, hollow void inside of you where his clutch had once resided. It was an incredibly staggering thought to wrap your head around, but it was also a frankly impressive one too. 

So this was how the Vidyadhara used to mate …

⭐

Crossposted: here

[buck-star]

Valentines sparkle

Overhearing a conversation between two girls, Logan doubts himself a lot more than he should. Trying to have you see and feel the sparkle of Valentine’s Day.

Pairing: Worst!Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.082 Words

Warnings/Tags: fluff, softness, insecurity, mention of past sexual content, petname [trouble, baby]

Authors Note: Thought about a little something for the Event Loveuary by @lubdubology and @yxtkiwiyxt, so here you are. Have fun and enjoy. There are one or two scenes where I could definitely think about a little something, if someone is interested. Divider made by me.

Events: Sweetheart Bingo [Row One-One | I’m yours]

Masterlist | Logan Howlett Masterlist

His eyes roam over the aisles of the shop; everywhere is pink and red stuff, heart-shaped or with hearts and flowers on them. His heart clenches as he notices another girl with her best friend walking to the little spot with chocolate and little boxes made for rings or cards — concerts, trips, everything.

“Maybe he’s asking me then. I saw he looked at these little boxes last time we went shopping. And today he went out, telling me he has to get something from the office. The office isn’t open today,” she says with a wide grin on her face. Her best friend giggles slightly, looking at the boxes as well; her eyes light up when she sees a small one she likes.

“Hopefully I will be that one. It’s so pretty,” she mumbles and lifts a small box in a heart-shaped form with small roses all over it. She holds it almost in her friend's face, who’s looking through the others to find her favorite. “Does he even know what you like? I mean, he’s a man after all, isn’t he?”

Both of them laugh. The girl who’s talking about her boyfriend nods. She’s reaching for another little box and holding it out. It’s a rose-shaped box, and there are a few little roses too. “He does, mostly. But look at this box; you can let them engrave your names in it.”

They put the boxes away again but keep standing there. The girl who’s pretty sure her boyfriend is going to ask her to marry him points at a few more things, telling her friend she needs that too. While her friend always shows other stuff that she likes and keeps asking if the man really knows what her friend likes.

“Lo? Baby?” Your soft voice comes from behind him when you place some sweets and drinks in the cart in front of Logan. He’s turning around, a slight frown on his face, but he tries to force a smile on his lips and nods. “Hey, you good? You look… I don’t know, confused, unsure?”

“Mhm, ‘m fine, trouble,” he grumbles and turns back to the cart and shoves it in front of himself through the aisle. You walk next to him, keeping a close eye on your boyfriend, who does not look as good as he tries to pretend. “Need something else?”

You shake your head and lead him to the cashiers. Logan nods; he’s not too much into shopping, and the conversation between these two women made him feel uncomfortable. An aching feeling in his chest while he thinks about the relationship with you.

“Baby, can you please—“ you giggle when you pull the cart closer to you. He narrows his eyes, looking at you, then at the cashier, and nods. Logan didn’t notice his tight grip around the cart or that he remained in his spot while the people before you already walked out of the shop.

“Sorry,” he mumbles and helps you with the groceries. You notice Logan’s narrowed eyes, his lips in a thin line, and his jaw clenched harshly. It’s a wonder that he doesn’t crush the eggs he’s holding in his hands, or the bottle he’s handing you.

You stay quiet, not wanting to make him feel more uncomfortable. So you just pay and let him push the cart out of the shop to the truck. He’s grumbling under his breath, his knuckles turning white with the force he’s using to hold the handle of the cart.

“Lo, you know, whatever it is that bothers you, you can talk to me. You don’t have to break the cart to get out of your mood, and you don’t have to swallow it all,” you say softly, placing your hand on his thick, hairy arm. His green eyes drop to your hand; he loves how small your hand looks compared to his arm, but he keeps his cold expression. Logan lets his eyes trail down your arm, over your shoulder to your face. His eyes lock with yours, and he nods.

“I know, trouble,” he whispers. Of course, he knows. You sit down at night with him to make sure he knows that he’s not alone. You’re staying up all night with him when he has nightmares and is afraid to get back to sleep. “But it’s nothin’.”

You nod, not convinced by him, but you don’t want to push either. So you just put the groceries in the car. Logan keeps grumbling and mumbling under his breath, his eyes moving back and forth between the shop and you, but he doesn’t say a word.

The drive back home is quiet except for the music, the only sound next to the engine that fills the car. Logan acts like he’s focused on the street, even though you feel his eyes on you every now and then. They are piercing, intense, and something is bringing deep inside of them, a fire he doesn’t dare to let out.

His lips part, but he stays quiet. You look out of the window, watching the people and houses pass by. Logan and you live outside of town, in a little wooden house that offers the two of you a comforting and relaxing place without too many people around.

He parks the car and gets out; you follow him. Logan’s intense stare is still on you when you grasp two of the paper bags to carry them inside. He does the same, but instead of just two paper bags he takes six and brings them into your shared house.

Shopping with your boyfriend is pretty easy since he can carry so much more, and you don’t have to walk back and forth to carry all the groceries. You kick the door closed and shrug off your jackets and shoes, walking into the kitchen where Logan is already unpacking all the groceries.

“Trouble?” He asks, his voice shaking slightly, and he keeps his back to you. You hum, letting him know he can continue talking. “‘M sorry. I just… I got lost in my thoughts.”

“I know, you’re an open book for me, baby,” you reply, walking over to him. You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him from behind while you push your head underneath his arm to look up at him.

Logan looks down, smiling softly at you. You’re just too adorable when you do that. His heart skips a beat, but the flutter is soon replaced with the heavy uncertainty again. “There were two girls who talked about one of the girl's boyfriend. She said she thinks he’s asking her to marry him, and her friend asked her to… if he even knows her because he’s a man,” Logan whispers, turning around in your warm embrace to face you. You’re tilting your head up, listening intensely to your boyfriend. “I don’t want to disappoint you with not getting engaged on Valentine's Day… and I… I don’t know if you… thought I would ask you to, or if I know you to buy you something you would like; I’m a man too.”

You chuckle softly; this man is just too adorable for his own good. “I don’t expect you to ask anything like that, Lo. I don’t even expect a present from you for Valentine’s Day or any other event,” you say softly, bringing your hands to his firm chest.

“But I wouldn’t even know what you like anyway,” he grumbles, doubting himself. Even though he should know better, even though you know better, you let him speak without interrupting him. “I’m your boyfriend; I should give you something. I should know what you love, what I could get you as a present.”

You smile, snaking your hands from his chest up to capture his cheeks and pull him down, his face only inches away from yours. “You remember what you got me for Christmas?”

Logan’s lips curl into a soft smile, and he nods his head immediately. His green eyes light up, and he grabs your waist tightly, pulling you closer. “This big stuffed animal, it doesn’t even fit in our bed, but you love it, trouble. Of course, I know what I gave you for Christmas; how could I forget that sweet smil—“

His eyes widen when he notices; he knows you. Logan knows what you like. He gave you a present for Christmas that made your smile bigger than he has ever seen a smile and your eyes were brighter than the sun when you unwrapped it.

“I know you… I know what you like; that’s why you mean?” He asks. You nod with a soft grin on your lips. “But that’s different; you told me you liked it. But—“

“You don’t have to read my thoughts, Lo,” you mumble. Logan shakes his head; he would love to read your thoughts. He would love it to make sure you always get what you want.

“But… even though I know what you like. Or you tell me what you like. Celebrating such a day…? It feels just like I don’t deserve to celebrate it. I don’t think I deserve you, and yet we want to celebrate it?”

“We don’t have to. We can also spend the day like every other day,” you say softly, but Logan shakes his head. He doesn’t want to disappoint you. Maybe you wouldn’t be, but he would be at himself for acting like it’s nothing special. “But you deserve love, so much love, so don’t dare to doubt it, Lo. But if you doubt it, then I will prove to you that you’re wrong. Because I love you, every day. Not just on Valentine’s Day.”

“I love you too, but you love special days; you love Valentine’s Day…” he mumbles, remembering the conversation you had on a date where you saw some hearts and roses, and it reminded you of Valentine's Day. You confess that the sparkle of the day wasn’t there since you and your ex-boyfriend broke up, but you still liked the thought of it and hoped someone would bring back the sparkle one day. “I want to bring back the startle for you. I want to be the one who gives you a reason to love Valentine’s Day, to love every day with me.”

“I love every day with you.”

“Trouble… I want to make it a special day. So shut up and be good for me,” Logan grumbles, a soft smile on his plump lips. “Do you remember the little cabin with the sauna and the hot tub?”

You nod with a grin; the sauna and the hot tub were a lot of fun in every way you can think of having fun with Logan. “Mhm… how can I not after having to clean the whole sauna because someone thought about spilling his cum everywhere but where he said he wanted it to be?”

Logan blushes, his fingers digging further into your skin, and he leans his head down. “You’re playing with fire, trouble.”

“It’s true. You said you want—“ you tease with a smile but get interrupted by Logan, who narrows his eyes slightly. He digs his fingers further into your skin, pulling you closer with a low grumble in his chest.

“How about we keep your pretty mouth shut before I have to stuff it?” Logan growls, pressing his plump lips on yours to shut you up. You chuckle, kissing him back softly while you try to push your tongue through his lips. Logan groans into your mouth, not letting you dominate him in the slightest. “We are spending Valentine’s Day in that cabin, in that hot tub, in that sauna. With movies, sunsets, sunrises, and food. Maybe some chocolate and ice cream, too.”

And so you do; you spend Valentine’s Day with Logan in that pretty cabin. Most of the day in either the hot tub or the sauna with Logan buried inside of you. Or on the couch in his arms while he turns on one cheesy movie after the other. Logan even asked you to let him help you cook the dinner for the two of you, even though he spent most of the time kissing your neck and keeping his strong arms tightly around your waist while he mumbles praises about how good you feel and how perfect you are. And yes… he helps you to bring back the sparkle of Valentine’s Day, not just for you, but also for himself.

Wanna see some more of Logan and Trouble? Let me know if you have any ideas.

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