#under night in birth x reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

avatarchic · 9 months ago

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TWENTY-SIX MONTHS

— starring. baby daddy!todoroki shoto x fem!reader

— tags. miscommunication trope, angst, pregnancy and giving birth, friends with benefits, vague relationships, running away, slight single parent!au

— warnings. ages are unmentioned, but shoto is in his late 20s/early 30s, smut, soft sex, cunnilingus, praise, p in v, use of petnames (baby, pretty girl), reader gets called a good girl once, shoto is highkey a munch

— word count. 8.2k

— requested? no

— notes. this one ruined me tbh LOL i have a nasty habit of slipping btw present and past tense so the tenses in this one might be all over the place :')))

Whatever you and Todoroki Shoto had together, you knew it wasn’t romantic.

You were his outlet. His source of relaxation when being a hero became too much to bear on his shoulders alone. You were fantastical. You were illusionary. With you, he was no longer Pro Hero Shoto, Number Three Hero. With you, he was just Shoto. And for your moments away from the world hidden beneath wrinkled sheets and closed curtains, that was enough for him. When morning came, and those curtains had to be drawn, he would become Pro Hero Shoto again, and you would wake up to an empty bed.

For you, he was everything.

For you, he was your hero before he became a Pro. He saved you from succumbing to the stress of standing out to survive as a support class student. He saved you from your insecurities and false ambitions, and he saved you from living a life you didn’t truly want. Todoroki Shoto was your best friend before he became the man shrouded in shadow — the man you hid away in secrecy to bed whenever he wanted.

He told you he would be gone for a while. A mission in upper Kyoto that took him away from your arms while you stayed safe in Tokyo. He assured you that he would be fine and return to you as soon as possible. If you were a fool, you might’ve taken those to heart and swooned under the pretense of love. But you knew better.

Before Todoroki Shoto came Pro Hero Shoto. You would be a fool to think he would pick the first before the other. You would be a fool to think that you, a citizen with no name, could ever stand by his side. In your eyes, Shoto put his work before himself. Admirable, strong, ever-the-reliable Pro Hero Shoto. The nights he spent with you as just Shoto made you wonder who else got to see his true self.

The second month of his absence came, and you were sick. An illness had overtaken you, leaving you bedridden for days on end. At first, it had just been nausea. You put it off as motion sickness — you often had to take the train to and from anywhere. Perhaps your stomach had simply met its limit and was taking it out on you with lashes of sickness and vomiting.

After a week of being washed away in your bile, you realized that you had yet to bleed that month. Rather, you realized you hadn’t had your monthly bleeding for a while. You weren’t stupid. You knew what it all meant, and you knew the consequences of your actions had finally caught up to you. You hid away from the world, only leaving to purchase tests from the store.

The answers mocked you. PREGNANT. TWO MONTHS+.

You considered getting rid of it. To keep it your dirty little secret. Shoto would never have to know — no one would ever have to know. But as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, your hand resting atop your stomach, you felt at peace for once. As if you finally had a reason to keep going.

Five months had passed since he was gone, and you felt it now more than ever. You never explained to any of your friends or neighbours who was responsible for the swelling of your tummy, nor about the packages of furniture fit for a nursery that showed up on your doorstep. They never asked. No one knew your trysts with Shoto, and you planned to keep it that way.

For his sake.

You wished. You desperately wished that he could stay by your side, that he could support you through this time of anxiety and worry. You daydreamed of welcoming him home, your little bundle of joy wrapped in your arms as you kissed Shoto on the cheek — a reward for working hard as he always did. You thought about spending more than just nights of pleasure with the two-toned man, about wearing his ring and raising your beloved child together.

As a family.

Thirteen months had passed since you last saw Todoroki Shoto.

Thirteen long, gruelling, and lonely months were spent mourning his absence, even though he was still alive somewhere. It felt like the clouds that followed you for weeks parted only when your son was born. He looked like you. He had your nose and your eyes. He had the same rounded cheeks you still adorn, even well into adulthood. His voice was like bells on a clear sunny day, and when he lay in your arms, you declared that you would love him for all you were worth.

Even if the tuft of red and white on his head brought you immense heartache.

A selfish part of you wished that nothing of your son, whom you’ve named Yami, would resemble his father. That way, you could truly hide his origins — your past that you refused to uncover. But the bigger part of you was overjoyed. The moment you laid eyes on his hair, matted down with blood and amniotic fluid, you sobbed uncontrollably. The nurses and midwife recognized the two-toned hair immediately and watched you with pitiful eyes as you clutched Yami to your chest.

You moved away the second you were discharged from the hospital, baby carrier in tow. You wished your neighbours well and thanked them for being so kind to you in the years you lived among them. You were gone within that same week.

You lived peacefully in your new home, tucked away in the countryside of southern Japan. You opted to stay away from TVs and the internet, worried that seeing his face might make you regret the rash decision to pick up and leave. Yami was growing quickly, already large for a four-month-old. His hair grew out, more red than white.

You didn’t know if Shoto had made it back from his mission. If he did, you weren’t sure how long he had been back or whether he had sustained any injuries. You didn’t know if he went to your apartment to search for his fantasy. You didn’t know if he thought of you at all.

You didn’t know if he was alive.

The longer you spent away from the man, the more your heart yearned for him. Whenever Yami would quiet down for his nap, you stared out the window at the acres of empty farmland. In the vastness of space, you could only think of him. The man who had taken your heart from the tender age of fifteen. The man who possessed your life in his hands, though your essence seemed invisible to those blue and grey eyes.

The fool in you wondered if he ever had feelings for you — if he ever burned for you the way you did for him.

You felt like a dessert. Scorched inside and empty. Golden sands represented him—burning to the touch and yet all-encompassing. Even without him by your side, he was always there. He surrounded you, dragging you in, and you let him.

Yami’s babbling would always break you out of your reverie, the pangs of guilt and sorrow gnawing away at your still-beating heart. The routine remained the same, day after day. After he woke up from his nap with an incoherent cry for his mother, you would settle him onto your lap and cry. You sobbed into his soft tufts of hair, apologizing for taking him away from his father, for hiding him away from the world just because you were a coward.

Yami was your darkness. He was your uncovered secret.

Two years and two months had passed since you last saw Todoroki Shoto.

Yami was seventeen months old and starting to look more and more like his father. He took his first steps earlier than any parenting book had told you he would, and it wasn’t long after when he said his first word. It seemed the world was against you, and the universe was punishing you for keeping Yami away. You broke down for the first time in a while when that first word hit your ears.

“Da… Dada…”

You weren’t alone in your silent, unspoken wishes to be at Shoto’s side. Poor Yami, who had never met his father, spoke Shoto into existence with that one word.

“My baby,” you sobbed, hugging Yami tightly to you as he babbled, repeating those two syllables over and over. “My poor baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Mommy’s so sorry, my baby…” You rocked back and forth, crying endlessly. Yami’s hands grasped at your clothes, hair, and face. His little round features twisted into a grimacing cry as he watched tears pour from your tired eyes for a reason he didn’t yet understand.

The day he spoke his first word was when you showed him a picture of his father for the first time. Recognition flashed behind rounded eyes, recognition for a man he’d never met.

While you were grocery shopping — Yami balanced on your hip, a paper bag full of produce in the other arm — you heard Shoto’s name.

“Didn’t you hear? Pro Hero Shoto is here! In town!”

“Isn’t that weird? Why would such a hotshot be here, of all places? We aren’t even on most maps…”

“Who cares?! Do ya think I can get an autograph?”

You break out into a run without paying attention to the rest of the conversation. You hold Yami to your chest, supporting his head as you run with all your might. The paper bag of fruit and vegetables lay forgotten behind you, surely to be crushed by any passing vehicles. You run until you can’t run anymore, chest heaving in exhaustion. Using your object manipulation quirk, you open the front door to your house without taking your hands off Yami.

You whisper sweetings into his ear, telling him everything would be okay. Maybe you were telling yourself.

Not long after you returned home, the door rattled with a gentle knock. The very door you locked moments ago. You hold your breath, not wanting to see anyone. You didn’t want to see him.

Your name was spoken in that soft voice you missed so much. Before you could stop him, Yami started sobbing, his high-pitched cries alerting the person outside that you were there. You shush Yami desperately, rocking him back and forth in an attempt to calm him down. You kiss his forehead, silently begging him to stop crying.

Your name was called out again, this time panicked and louder. Yami’s cries increase in volume, and you feel your eyes water all the same.

The door hinges begin to frost over, and it’s knocked down in seconds. The loud noise scares your son, causing him to sob uncontrollably as he grasps painfully at your hair. You hide him behind you as you face the intruder head-on. Without blinking an eye, you use your quirk to lift the door off the ground, pushing it against the intruder, hoping to push him out completely.

The door is pushed away easily. After all, you are no match for Pro Hero Shoto.

He has gotten larger in the twenty-six months since you last saw him. His shoulders grew broader, his hero uniform barely hiding the dense but lean muscle that hid beneath it. His hair was longer, falling into his eyes as if he didn’t have time to take care of it. The man in front of you looks different from the man you knew, but it is undoubtedly him.

He breathes out your name, steam rolling off his left side and icicles glistening atop his skin on his right. He steps over the forgotten door, into your house, and into your safe haven, large and commanding of your attention. You try to make yourself bigger, to hide Yami from his eyes, and perhaps to hide your shame as you stare at the father of your child.

“I looked for you everywhere,” he gravels, his voice deep and crackling with emotion. “I came home, and you were gone. Do you have any idea how fucking scary that was?! No one knew where you were, and your apartment was empty. I didn’t know if you were safe, I didn’t know if you were alone…” Shoto steps closer to you, anger seeping into his expression. “For fuck’s sake, I didn’t know if you were alive!”

Your heart hammers in your chest as he grows closer, his fists clenching angrily by his side. His eyes search you desperately, searching for any sign of injury or abuse. They trace over your wrists and ankles, perhaps looking for signs that you were held here not on your own will, that you didn’t leave him just because you wanted to.

You pick your brain for the right words to say. You have thought about this day for years, and now that he’s in front of you, you don’t know what to think. Your mind is a mess of shame and joy, your heart struggling in a fight against itself. Analyzing him, your eyes rake over his body. There were a few more scars you don’t remember, some fine lines on his face that weren’t there before, but it was him.

As your brain wraps around the fact that Shoto was really there after over two years, Shoto collapses to his knees in front of you. He all but crawls over to you as he shoves his face into your thighs. Hot, stinging tears hit your skin as he cries into your lap, his hands reaching to hold you. Large, calloused fingers grasped at your thighs, pulling you closer to him.

“I was so scared,” he admits, his body shaking as he cries silently. “I thought… I thought a villain had taken you.”

Your hands hover behind you, keeping Yami hidden. His cries have thankfully subsided the second Shoto entered the room, but you weren’t sure for how long that would last. You can feel him grabbing at your shirt, trying to peek around you. Resisting the urge to wipe away Shoto’s tears, you grip onto your son tightly.

“How did you know I was here?” You lick your dry lips, wincing at how raspy your voice is. The first words spoken to this man in over two years are painted over with wariness and caution, very unlike the words of encouragement and longing you had given him your last night together. “No one knew I was here. Not even my family, so how did you…” You trail off, unsure if you want to know the answer to this question.

Shoto pulls away from your lap, looking up at you with bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “I searched for you every day. I never stopped once I realized you were gone. I was in communication with every hero in this fucking country, hoping that one day one of them would spot you.” He hastily wipes his cheeks, his trembling hands remaining at your side.

“Why did you go?” he asks in a whisper. His voice, low and cracking, is broken as he speaks. “Why did you leave me? Did I do something? Was I…” Shoto swallows thickly as his insecurities taint his mind. “Was I not good to you? Did I make you leave?”

His endless questions send you for a loop. In front of you was not Pro Hero Shoto, but just Shoto. Your Shoto, the one you long for in your dreams. The one who paints your every happy memory and the one whose name you whisper into the dead of night.

And yet, as you feel Yami’s tiny hands grab your arm, you can’t answer any of his questions.

“Dada…!”

The both of you freeze, and the world stands still for a moment. Shoto’s trembling gaze slowly left yours, meeting the eyes of the toddler behind you. The first thing Shoto notices is his hair — bright red with streaks of white bleeding through. He feels his heart stop and start again, his hold on you finally slipping as his body goes somewhat limp. He falls back onto his heels, fully kneeling before you now.

Snapping out of it, you turn around and take Yami into your arms, facing away from Shoto as you shush the poor baby, calming him down quietly. Shoto can only watch as you handle him with a gentle care he isn’t privy to.

Without sparing another glance at Shoto, you start to walk away. He calls out your name hastily, and you can hear him clamber to his feet. Swallowing harshly, you look at him over your shoulder. Shoto looks out of place in your cozy living room, too large for the space. And yet, he appears small. His shoulders are hunched in as he reaches out to you with a face that begs you not to leave.

“He… needs to be put down for his nap,” you whisper, kissing Yami’s temple. “We… can talk after.”

Before you can regret your words, you head into his nursery, painted a soft yellow. You coo at your son, gently resting him in the large crib that took up most of the room’s space. You hum a lullaby to him as you stroke his hair, looking down at him with nothing but love.

Even long after he fell asleep, you don’t move. You stay there for a while, watching Yami so closely you don’t notice the presence at the door.

Shoto’s voice comes in a whisper. “He… He is mine, isn’t he?”

You can only nod, shame filling your soul as tears slip from your watery eyes. “His name is Yami,” you speak, your voice cracking.

Shoto flinches but waits patiently as he watches you come to a stand. He doesn’t rush you as you place Yami’s favourite stuffed animals by his side, leaning down and kissing his forehead before approaching Shoto.

“Let’s talk in my room,” you whisper, glancing at Yami before shutting the door behind you.

The two of you enter your room, the stifling air suffocating you as you shuffle over to your bed. Shaky hands reach for your pillows as you keep your back to the Todoroki, fluffing them to keep yourself busy. Your throat feels grating as you swallow down harshly. The room feels both hot and freezing, which you assume is his doing.

He doesn’t say anything either as he stares at the back of your head. Your hair looks different from the last time he saw you, and the clothes over your body aren’t articles he can remember you own. He thinks back to that night when quiet goodbyes were whispered between sweaty sheets. He wonders what went wrong.

His eyes wander, his frightful gaze tearing away from you only to look around your room. There are remnants of you everywhere. Family pictures hang from the walls, and old posters he vaguely remembers from your apartment are pasted against grey paint. It was you, but different. It wasn’t as colourful as your old room, and your trinkets are either out of sight or gone altogether.

When his eyes rest on you once more, a million questions run through his mind. Why did you leave him without a word? Images of your child, the very one who bore a striking resemblance to himself, flash in the forefront of his mind.

“How have you been?” you croak out after too many beats of silence. Hugging a pillow to your chest, you turn ever so slightly, only glancing at him from the corner of your eye as if it were painful to even look at him. Perhaps it is.

Shoto can only stare at you in disbelief, his brows curling upward as his heartache shines through. “How have I been?” he repeats breathily, his low voice raising half an octave. His mouth opens, but the words die on his tongue. Only after an excruciatingly long moment does he find the words again. “I’ve been miserable. You were gone.”

You wince at the strain in his voice, gripping the pillow even tighter. Your knuckles whiten under your tight hold. “I’m sorry,” you whisper pathetically, swallowing the lump in your throat painfully.

“Why?” he asks again, his voice cracking as he takes a tentative step toward you. “Why did you disappear?” Shoto reaches for you, stopping just short of grabbing you by the shoulders. He can’t tell if he wants to shake you until you see sense or hug you and never let go.

“I had to,” you urge, finally meeting his eyes. Your breath hitches, and you regret turning to him, but now you can’t look away. Those mismatched eyes that used to bore into yours with unreadable emotion as he draped his body over yours were tired, dull, and pained.

Shoto is the first to break eye contact, staring at your floorboards as he attempts to string together his thoughts. “Was it me?”

With furrowed brows, you shake your head no. “Shoto—”

“If I knew,” he rushes out, interrupting you. His gaze drops to your stomach, and he imagines what you might’ve looked like, swollen with his child. “If I knew, I would’ve come back sooner. Fuck the mission, you needed me and I…” He cuts himself off, bringing his hands up to your shoulders. His grip is tight enough to force you to look at him straight on, yet gentle. You think you can feel them trembling over your clothes, but you aren’t sure if you’re imagining it or not. “I’m so sorry,” he almost cries. The pillow in your hands falls to the carpeted floor, but neither of you cares to pay attention to it.

“Shoto, no,” you whisper, cupping his cheeks as you press your lips together. You thumb away his unshed tears. “That’s not why I left.”

“Then why?” he breathes.

You purse your lips, biting at the inside of your cheek as you reflect on those lonely nights spent under cold blankets. “You’re a hero,” you speak slowly. “I never had a place in your life, Shoto, not really. I’m a nobody. If… If I stayed, I would have been holding you back. You deserved more than that.”

Shoto narrows his eyes at you. “I deserve you,” he blurts, his tongue stained with vexation at the mere implication of your words. You watch as his lower lip wobbles momentarily before he steels his expression. “It isn’t your place to decide whether or not you should be in my life. That’s something for me to decide, but you took that away from me.”

“Took what away, Shoto?” you exclaim, raising your voice for the first time that day. “The sex? The comradery? You could have easily found that in someone else.” It hurts to admit, but you know it’s true. During those days together, you were a mere placeholder for someone better than you. Someone who could relate to him more than a nobody civilian could ever hope to.

After all, Pro Hero Shoto could have anyone he wanted.

Any anger left in his body dissipates as his body tenses. His face scrunches into something painful, mouth ajar and eyes wide as his grip on your shoulders tightens slightly. “What?” he whispers, the word dripping from his tongue like ice water. “What are you talking about?” The room feels like it’s dropped a few degrees, and if the frost that clings to his skin is any indication, it might have.

Averting your gaze, you try to wedge yourself out of his tight hold, but he doesn’t let you, taking another step forward. You’re practically chest-to-chest as he shakes your shoulders gently. “What are you talking about?” he repeats with an urgent tongue. “Someone else? What are you talking about?”

You heave a sigh. “Don’t play dumb, Shoto. You’re… you. You could easily find someone to replace me.”

“Is that what you think?” he breathes harshly, steam rolling off his skin, melting the frost. “That you’re just some replaceable body in my bed? Do you really think that lowly of me?” His expression twists as he reaches up to cup your jaw. His touch is burning, and yet you find yourself leaning into his palm.

“Isn’t it the truth?” you murmur, your voice catching. “I’m not anyone special, Shoto.”

“You’re my girlfriend,” he spits out, angry at the notion that you were a nobody. “You’re special to me. Isn’t that all that matters? I couldn’t care less about the fact that you’re not a hero. That never mattered to me, so don’t give me that bullshit.”

Your eyes snap open as you stare at Shoto in shock. You feel your body freeze over, and suddenly, your lungs are empty. “... What did you call me?” you croak.

Shoto stares deeply into your eyes, his own darting back and forth as he tries to read you. “My girlfriend.” His voice wavers as he tries to understand why you look so confused.

“We weren’t dating,” you cry incredulously. “What are you talking about?” You watch Shoto as realization washes over his distraught expression and something within you cracks. “Shoto, what are you talking about?” you ask again with a frantic pull to your voice. Shoto’s hands slip from your shoulders.

“Weren’t we?” he whispers quietly, any strength sapping from his body as he limply stands before you.

With your heart beating faster than ever, your breath leaves chapped lips in uneven puffs of strangled air. “We never talked about being anything more than just…” You trail off, the past couple of years draping over your shoulders, weighing you down heavily.

“You thought I was with you for the sex?” Shoto doesn’t know how to feel or how to act. His face twists as several emotions run through him before his mind settles on heartache. His multicoloured eyes try to meet yours, but you’ve already looked away. He moves his body, craning his neck to take a good look at you. He wants to see you. He wants you to see him. He utters your name in a broken whisper. “It was never just sex for me, baby,” he declares, his voice cracking in sorrow. “You had to have known that.”

He moves closer, cradling your face as he gently forces you to look at him. When he sees the indecisive glaze that’s taken over your eyes, he feels his heart break just a little more. “Please tell me you knew. That you know it was more than that.”

You blink away tears, your chest rising and falling quickly as you meet his intensive gaze. “You’d only come to me at night,” you mutter, caught between wanting to lean into his touch and wanting to pull his hands off of you. “You never stayed. You were always gone in the morning, Shoto. What was I supposed to believe?”

Shoto fights back a wince as he mulls over your words. He sighs, absentmindedly rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs. “I was so busy with hero work,” he murmurs in horror-filled realization, frowning at himself. He shakes his head, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes. “That’s not an excuse. I should have tried harder to be around. But it was never just sex for me.”

His throat bobs as he swallows thickly, his forehead coming down to rest against yours. His eyes flutter closed, wet eyelashes sticking together as he lets out a trembling breath. “Please believe me, baby,” he pleads quietly. “I’ll be better. I’ll show you I love you. I’ll make sure you know this time, so please…”

Those three words pull the air from your lungs, but when he opens his eyes, you’re left truly breathless. Love, sorrow, and regret swirl in his blue and grey hues. You don’t remember the last time you’ve looked at Shoto like this. “Please come back to me.”

“Shoto—”

“I’ll stop being a hero,” he interrupts you, a deep frown tugging at his lips. “If that’s what it takes.”

You make a face, your brows knitting together tightly. “Don’t be stupid, Shoto,” you hush. “Being a hero is your life. I’d never ask you to throw that away for me.”

“You’re my life,” he presses. One of Shoto’s hands moves to cup the back of your head, carding through your hair. “Our child will be my life. You matter more to me than anything else.”

Sighing, you close your eyes as you lean into his touch. “I’d be even more upset if you gave up,” you murmur. “I understand that being a hero leaves you with little free time. So—”

“No,” Shoto cries out. “Don’t make excuses for me. I should’ve tried harder. I should have realized things between us weren’t clear.” He pauses for a moment, his brow bone tensing as he bites at his lip. “Do you love me?”

With a softened gaze, you knock on his forehead with a weak fist. “You’ve always been it for me, Sho.”

Shoto smiles at the nickname, a slight tick of the corner of his mouth. If you hadn’t been so close and hadn’t known his expressions as well as you did, you might’ve missed it. He leans closer, his nose brushing against your cheek as he kisses your tear-stained skin sweetly. “I love you,” he hushes, tugging you closer. His fingertips trail up your spine until they’re entwined in your hair. “I love you.”

A shiver runs down your spine at the sensation as you curl into him. Your hands trail up his broad chest as you wrap your arms around his neck. Inhaling deeply, you stare at him in hesitation. “Is this real?” you murmur, your mind swirling with the vivid dreams you’ve procured over the years. “You’re really here, right? And you really…”

“I love you,” he says again. He says it one, two, three more times, whispering into the side of your neck and he nudges himself into the empty space. His lips, which are cold against your blistering heat, brush against your earlobe as he all but whimpers your name. “This is real. I’m here, baby.”

You can’t help but believe him, your eyes closing as he presses kiss after kiss on your skin, moving down your neck until he’s reached your collarbones. He nips at the spot, his tongue jutting out to soothe the darkening mark he’s left behind. “Sho,” you scold weakly, your nails scraping against his scalp gently as you brush his hair out of his face.

Shoto grins boyishly at you, his hands resting on your hips as he guides you backwards, stepping over the forgotten pillow you dropped. “Let me show you,” he breathes out, looking down at you with wide eyes until he has you sat on the edge of your unmade bed. “Let me show you how much I love you.”

Then, he pauses, a brief flash of bashfulness flickering behind his embering gaze. “Please?”

You’re reaching out for him before you can answer, tugging him down to your height. You don’t reply with words, pressing desperate lips against his as you pull him over you until he’s pinned over your trembling body. Strong forearms rest beside your head, his skillful tongue swiping along the seam of your mouth. You almost moan at his taste—a taste you never forgot.

Shoto slants himself against you, your bodies resembling a mess of limbs. He flips you over with ease, strong hands gripping your hips to seat you atop his shaking lap. The shivers that run down the expanse of his body don’t go unnoticed, and you peck his lips once, then twice, before pulling away. He’s staring up at you breathlessly, lust-blown eyes dark but widened as he takes in the sight of you.

“Are you okay?” you whisper, stroking along the edge of his scar. Shoto leans into your palm, his eyes briefly fluttering closed, relishing in your warmth that he was deprived of for so long.

“I’m okay,” he murmurs back, brushing his lips against your palm. “I’ve just missed you so much.”

Your heart aches at his soft-spoken admission, and you kiss him again to tell him I missed you, too. This kiss is sweeter than the last, softer in its closed-mouth motions. His hand reaches up to palm your jawline, his other remaining on your hip. He sighs into you, breaking the kiss to leave fleeting pecks over your cheeks. “My pretty girl,” he whispers into your skin.

His hand trails up and down your side, as he gently pushes you against his growing erection. You let out a whimper at just how hard he already is, the tent pushing against your clothed cunt teasingly. Grinding your hips down, you relish in the gasp Shoto lets out. Busying his hands with the hem of your loose tee, he pushes himself off of the bed to chase your lips.

Shoto kisses you with a fervour you damned yourself for running away from. He kisses you like he needs your taste on his tongue to live, like you’re a lifeline, and he’s teetering on the edge. Gentle teeth scrape against your bottom lip, just barely grazing your swollen skin. Pulling away to rid you of your top, Shoto bites his lips at the sight of your bare chest. He lays back, propping his head up on your pillows. Tracing a hand down his strong pecs, you tilt your head back at the sight of his complete enamour.

Red cheeks hollow as he takes in a shuddering breath, looking up at you with nothing but love and adoration. “You’re perfect,” he breathes out, his hands tracing your sides so slowly. His thumbs, calloused from years of hero work, barely graze the underside of your breasts before his hands trail back down to your thighs.

“Take these off f’me,” Shoto urges, tugging gently on the fabric of your shorts. Those dark eyes never leave your face, as though he’s committing it to memory.

You don’t hesitate to obey his request, shifting off of his lap just enough to tug off the last of your clothing, fingers dipping beneath the band of your panties to take them off as well. Shivering, you sit back down on his lap, biting down on your bottom lip as you lean back. Shoto makes it clear how much he appreciates the view you’ve given him, his lustful gaze caressing your entire self. His eyes land on the apex of your thighs, and his bitten lips part in admiration.

A wide hand rests on your tummy, just below your belly button, as he gently pushes your hips back and forth. His other hand finds its way to your ass, gripping and rubbing the skin there in tandem with your movements.

You let out shallow breaths at the feeling of his rough jeans against your bare clit. You’re sure you’re sopping wet already, soaking the front of his pants with your slick, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when he’s looking at you like he’d cry if you stopped grinding down on him.

His eyes stay glued to where your hips meet, and he whispers your name lovingly. “C’mere,” he rasps out as he sits up with haste, wrapping those big arms around your midsection and pulling you even closer to him. Shoto kisses the tops of your breasts, moving up and up until his lips meet yours again in a searing kiss.

“Missed you s’much,” he gravels out against your lips, reaching up to cup your left tit. You whimper out when his thumb brushes against the hardened bud, his tongue following shortly after. His lips curl around your nipple as he kneads into you. Breaths leave your throat in shortened huffs as he bites down gently.

Pushing you gently, you find yourself on your back again with Shoto hovering over you. He lets go of your nipple with a pop, lips shiny with saliva as he kisses down your stomach. Arching into his affections, all you can do is lay there and bask in his gentle touches and sweet kisses.

“Sho,” you whimper out when he mouths your skin lower and lower. Strong hands push your hips up until your dripping cunt is in front of his face, and your legs are dangling over his shoulders. Your back arches deeply, his fingers digging into your sides to keep your bottom half suspended in the air. It’s almost embarrassing how wet you’ve gotten—you can’t recall the last time you’ve felt this aroused. “Please…”

Shoto smiles at you softly, looking at you through his lashes as he brushes his lips against your clit, making you jolt. “Patience, baby,” he chuckled. “I haven’t tasted your sweet pussy in too long. Let me take my time with you, yeah?”

When he asks so nicely, how can you refuse?

He leaves open-mouthed kisses where your inner thigh meets your pelvis, kissing and licking just around where you need him most. Pathetic moans slip through your wobbling lips as you press them together, trying not to be too loud. Your body is goo in his hands, and he knows this well. He easily keeps your back arched up off the bed, his beefy arms not straining at all.

When his lips finally close on your weeping cunny, you cry out louder than intended. “Shh,” he whispers, sitting back just far enough to leave you whimpering for more. “Don’t wanna wake the baby, do you?” Those teasing eyes meet yours again, and his teasing expression softens ever so slightly at your already fucked out look. ��Be good and quiet f’me, love.”

“Okay,” you stammer out, screwing your eyes shut when he kitten licks at your slit.

Shoto kisses your inner thigh with a grin. “Good girl.”

Without missing a beat, he attaches his lips to your pussy once more, his skilled tongue licking and prodding exactly where he knows it makes your legs shake in pleasure. He eats you out with such expertise as if it hasn’t been over two years. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had a map of your body memorized.

Long, thick fingers push at your entrance, just barely pushing in before pulling out. “More, please,” you beg under your breath, arching into his mouth. “Please, Sho. I can take it.”

Shoto hums as he sucks on your clit gently, drawing circles over the bundle of nerves immediately after. “I know you can, baby. This pussy was made just for me,” he sighs into you, the loud slurping noises coming from the point of contact making you curl in on yourself. “You were made just for me, baby.”

He finally pushes two fingers in, curling up just how you like it. He groans as his tongue moves with ardour, his eyes rolling back behind closed lids as he savours your taste. “Fuck,” he mumbles. “Missed this s’much.”

Shoto’s fingers push in and out, in and out, your slick gushing around them as the filthy sound of your clenching cunt fills the room. His lips are glued to your clit, drunk on your wetness as he fingers you deeply.

“I’m close,” you warn him, gripping the sheets tightly. Your body jerks, your thighs shaking and closing around his head as you feel the string in your tummy grow taught. “Sho—”

“I know,” he growls, kissing your clit again as he looks back up at you. He watches your face twist and scrunch in pure pleasure, moaning at the sight. Pushing a third finger in, his eyes slip closed at the feeling of you clenching tightly around him. “Come for me, baby. Need to feel you come.”

His voice drips with honey, coating your body in its warmth as your back bends. “Fuck,” you cry, slapping a hand over your mouth as your thighs tremble hard. “I—”

Before you can say anything else, you’re cumming around his fingers harder than you ever have in the time away from him. Fat tears line your lashline as he fingers you through your orgasm, lazily licking figure eights around your clit as he continues to push his fingers into you gently. He doesn’t stop, making you come again and again until you’re weakly pushing his head away.

His tongue laps your pussy clean, the lower half of his face covered in your slick when he finally sits back. You watch with lidded eyes as he wraps his lips around his fingers, his tongue jutting out to lick them until they’re no longer soaked with your essence. Moaning, you reach up for him, grasping weakly at his clothed chest. “Need you,” you plea, pushing at his clothes in a sad attempt to take them off.

Shoto only chuckles, leaning over to kiss you. He tastes of mint and musk, the taste of your come on his tongue making your eyes cross. He holds you tight, pressing you against his chest, and his hands run up and down the length of your spine. His head tilts, his mouth ajar as he licks into your wet cavern.

Leaning back, you kiss and lick at his face, cleaning him of your juices. He only sighs blissfully at your ministrations, stroking your hair out of your face as he presses his lips against your temple. “I love you,” he murmurs. “God, do I love you.”

You leave one more kiss along his jaw, settling back onto the mattress as you look up at him. His hair is messy, tousled from the many breathless kisses you’ve exchanged in the last hour. His rouge-tinted cheeks make him look younger than he is, yet you can see fine lines at the corners of his eyes and between his brows.

“I love you, Sho,” you declare softly, tucking his long bangs behind his ears. He gazes at you with more affection than you think you’ve ever seen him express, and it takes everything in you not to combust on the spot. You trail one hand down his chest, dropping down to his tented pants. Palming his clothed hardness, you glance at him pleadingly, smiling at the moan he emits the second your hand grazes his hard-on. “I need you now, please.”

Shoto nods, kissing the crown of your head before leaning back. You watch with careful eyes as he undresses, his hands moving with less grace than he’s known for. As he fumbles off his shirt, you unbuckle his belt, throwing it haphazardly across the room. You barely register the thud it makes as you tug down his pants. His hard cock slaps against his abdomen, coated with precum.

Fully nude, you sit back to admire Shoto in his entirety. There are many scars you don’t remember littered over his muscled body, and your fingers trace them gently. “I almost forgot how pretty you are,” you say, sitting up to kiss his collarbone.

“Pretty?” he repeats, laughing softly as he grips at your waist.

You hum. “Very pretty, Sho.”

Unable to wait any longer, he manoeuvres you back onto the pillows, adjusting you as he places one beneath your hips. “Gotta have you now, baby,” he groans into you, reaching down to fuck into his fist. You watch with wide eyes as he rubs himself for a moment more, pushing your thighs up against your chest.

Pushing his angry cockhead against your slit, he thrusts shallowly against your soaked pussy. A low moan rumbles out of his throat when his head catches on the hood of your clit. He uses a thumb to guide his length to your entrance, a whimper of your name tumbling from those bite-swollen lips once he finally pushes into you.

Your jaw drops as a wanton noise claws out of your throat. Shoto is sure to move slowly, only moving in an inch of his dick at a time before pulling out. You had forgotten how thick Shoto’s cock is, the stretch of your swollen pussy around his length burning through your body. “S-Sho…”

He groans at your voice, dropping his head to your shoulder as he fucks into you slowly. “I know, baby,” he lets out breathlessly. “I know. You’re doing so well f’me.”

His hips finally press against you after some time, his dick pushing against your pulsing gummy walls. He stills, letting you get used to the intrusion as he kisses you again and again. Propping himself on his elbows, he shakily brushes your hair out of your face, kissing your forehead. “You okay, baby?”

Nodding fervently, you wrap your arms around his neck, pushing his chest flush against yours. “Yeah.” Your voice comes out weakly, barely above a whisper. “You can move—” correcting yourself, you look up at him with pleading eyes. “—please move.”

Without another word, he pulls out slowly, only to thrust back into your hole nice and deep. A loud groan leaves his lips as he settles into a quick tempo, his hips slapping against the back of your thighs as he starts to really fuck into you.

Barely keeping your eyes open, you watch his expression twist with gratification, his brows tilting upwards as his lips part. With lidded eyes, he watches you, too. “You’re—fuck—so pretty,” he whimpers, pressing his forehead against yours as his thrusts become faster. “Missed you. Missed you s’much.”

Sitting up, he grabs at your waist as he fucks you zealously. His thumb flicks at your clit, rubbing tight circles that leave your legs shaking. His cockhead rubs at that spongey spot in your cunt with every thrust, making your eyes roll back. “Sho,” you cry out, the thought of keeping your voice down long gone in your pleasure. “Sho, Sho—!”

His mouth opens as he lets out a stunted shout riddled with lust and overstimulation. “You’re so fucking tight,” he grins down at you, his stomach flexing with each movement of his hips. “Fuck, baby. Can feel you clenching around me s’tight. Are you close?” His words come out harshly, exertion tugging them from his throat sluggishly.

His thumb never stops over your clit, moving in tandem with his hips as he slams into you. Unable to form coherent words, you can only cry out in vague confirmation, grabbing at his forearms. You can feel your slick dripping down the slope of your ass, soaking into your pillow and the sheets beneath you.

Shoto’s smile falters as he feels his own orgasm near, his rhythm becoming desperate as his eyes screwed shut. His head drops, his mouth opening slightly as he chases his high. When your cunt grips tightly around him, he’s sure he’s going to lose it. Harsh breaths heave out of him, his flushed skin causing his hair to stick to his forehead.

“Come for me again, baby,” he begs, barely able to pry his lids open to look down at you. “Please, come, please, please… Gotta feel you…!”

Whether it’s from his words, the whimpering tone that tugs at his voice, or the way his cock throbs inside you as he nears his own high, you feel your orgasm crash over you in waves. “Shoto,” you sob, your body jerking violently as you come hard. He lets out a high-pitched groan as he releases inside you, his thick seed filling you up in seconds. His hips tremble and twitch as he keeps shallowly thrusting, pushing both you and himself into overstimulation.

“I love you,” he mewls, pressing his lips against yours in a hungry kiss as he wraps his arms tightly around your middle. Without pulling out, he slumps over you, knocking the air out of your lungs.

Laughing quietly, you weakly push at his shoulder. “You’re heavy,” you complain, still breathless from the countless orgasms he’s pulled you through. “Get off, Sho.”

“No,” he murmurs into the nape of your neck, cuddling into you tightly. “Don’t wanna let go.”

You roll your eyes. “You can hug me without crushing my ribs.”

Huffing, he rolls off of you, taking you with him as he lands on his back. You both groan lowly at the movement, his dick twitching inside you once you settle onto his lap again. “You’re insatiable,” you comment, feeling him thrust weakly up into your wetness.

Shoto only grins up at you, showing off that rare smile you missed so dearly. “You can’t blame me,” he tells you, wrapping his arms around you. “I have so many years of love to show you.” He kisses your shoulder. “I meant it. Before, I mean. You are everything to me, and I know our baby will be too.”

Your eyes wet again, fresh tears bubbling at the corners before dribbling down your cheeks. “Shoto…”

Looking up at you, he stares with an indescribable look in his mismatched eyes. “I wanna be in your life. I want to be in his life, too, if you’ll let me.” Leaning up, he kisses you sweetly. “So, please, come back to me.”

You only manage to nod tearfully before the shrill cry of your baby echoes throughout the house. Shoto eases you off his messy cock, watching as his release dribbles out of you. He lets out a breath, kissing you sweetly before moving you off of him gently. No words are exchanged as Shoto throws his clothes back on, wrinkled and unkempt. He pauses to wipe you clean, using your shirt, after throwing you an apologetic glance.

A smile reaches your eyes as you watch Shoto bound out of the room to get your child.

©AVATARCHIC please do not plagiarize, repost, translate, or copy any of my works.

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streetlamp-amber · 5 months ago

Text

never ending night

bruce wayne x femwife!reader

word count: 1.7k | divider by @saradika | requests are open!

CW: pregnancy, pure fluff NOTES: hello hi i’m ailís and i’ve been meaning to start a blog where i can post some one shots that i’ve been thinking of as a way to motivate myself to finally write down my ideas so this is it. i’ll be double posting my stuff on ao3 (which you can find in my bio) and will eventually make a masterlist as well as a navigation post with a list of fandoms/characters i write for. also, english isn’t my first language.

It was close to three in the morning when Bruce finally joined you in bed after a long night of patrolling and fighting bottom of the barrel criminals all night. He showered in the bathroom on the first floor of the manor to avoid making too much noise and waking you up, but when he finally walked in your shared bedroom, you were already awake, sitting up against the headboard.

“Darling, what are you doing still up?” Bruce asked you as he reached his side of the bed.

The room was dark par for the moonlight filtering through the gap between the curtains, meaning your husband had yet to notice the state you were in.

“Dick had a nightmare,” you answered, voice barely above a whisper due to how tired you were. “It took me two hours to get him to fall back asleep and when I finally came back here, this little one started kickboxing me and keeping me awake for another hour,” you continued rubbing your round belly in hopes of soothing your baby to finally catch some sleep.

“I’m sorry I wasn't here to help,” Bruce apologised, planting a kiss on your temple as he held you close to his body.

“It’s alright, Gotham needs you,” you dismissed, not at all angry.

“Still, you’re six months pregnant. You’re growing our child inside your body, you need all the rest you can get,” he softly argued. “I would've come home earlier but all the amateur criminals came out tonight.”

“Bruce, it’s fine,” you brought your hand up to his cheek and he leaned his head into your touch. “You’ve already been cutting your patrols shorter since we found out about the baby. As long as you keep coming back home to us, alive, then I’m not mad.”

Not knowing what to say – his gratefulness for having someone so accepting of his duty as Batman was almost overwhelming, even after all those years – Bruce kissed your palm while staring at you with the same look full of love that he has been sporting since the first time he met you six years ago.

“How’d I get so lucky to fall in love with the most understanding and selfless person I know?” He asked while grabbing your hand on his cheek, wrapping his fingers around yours and squeezing them gently.

“Now that’s a lie,” you rebutted, a loving smile on your lips, lowering your joined hands on the bed. “You’re more selfless than I am. You’re the most selfless man in the world.”

“Let’s not start this never ending argument again,” Bruce chuckled, now his turn to hold your face as he brought you in for a kiss.

You happily sighed against his lips, the feeling of home that overtook you every time you tasted them was a nice welcome in this interminable night. But the kiss was cut short as you felt your baby kick again and you let your head fall back as you groaned.

“She’s still kicking?” Bruce asked you, he couldn't see the movements under your skin due to the darkness of the room and your hand on your belly.

“We don't know it's a she,” you reminded him instead of answering. You had both decided to wait until the birth to know the gender.

“And I’m telling you, I know it's a girl,” your husband repeated for what could be the hundredth time.

You also secretly hoped it was a girl, but Dick really wanted a little brother. Bruce and you were still in the process of warming him up to the idea of a little sister and it was slowly starting to work.

“As long as she doesn't come in my room,” your eight year old son had said last week, with his arms crossed over his chest and a pout on his lips.

“I doubt she’ll be doing that for the first few years, chum,” Bruce reassured him, fighting off a slightly amused grin.

“And the baby will have its own room with its own toys,” you added.

“Will I still be able to play with the baby?” Dick asked after a moment, uncrossing his arms and a hopeful look filling up his blue eyes.

“Of course you will, bubs,” you said, your fingers threading through his black hair that fell over his forehead.

“But only with her toys at first, some of yours are not suited for a baby,” Bruce pointed out, ever the overprotective father.

Bruce had lowered himself down under the blanket so he could be laying head levelled with your belly, his hand now replacing yours over the bump.

“Hey trouble,” he whispered to your child and the baby kicked again, making him smile lovingly at the movement he felt under his hand. “You shouldn't be awake this late at night, you know.”

“You're one to talk,” you commented, tone almost reprimanding.

“She doesn't know that,” Bruce looked up at you as he defended himself before his gaze fell back on your belly. “Mommy is really tired,” he continued talking to your baby, his hand now rubbing soothingly over your round stomach, “and she needs her rest to do all the work so you can come out all healthy and beautiful. Well, you're definitely gonna be the most beautiful baby if you end up looking like your mother, but that's not the point.”

You smiled at the cheesy comment and your fingers found their place in Bruce’s hair, brushing through it and nails occasionally scratching his scalp.

“Your brother Dick can't wait for you to come around,” he carried on. “Said he will teach you all sorts of acrobatic tricks once you know how to walk. And he asked Alfred if he could help paint the nursery when we finally decide on a colour.”

“And I keep telling you we should do soft green,” you argued.

“I’m not changing my mind from primrose pink,” he told you with a sly grin.

“The room won’t be pink, even if it’s a girl. And that’s final,” you firmly said. Your husband will not be winning this one argument, no sir.

Bruce sighed, rolling his eyes before focusing back on your belly. “I hope you’re not as stubborn as your mother,” he whispered to the baby, as if he was having a private conversation with them and that you weren’t there. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s one of the many reasons why I fell in love with her, but I won’t be able to say no to you even when I have to, so it would save me a lot of reprimanding from Mommy if you’re not as tenacious as her.”

You smiled to yourself as you continued listening to your husband talk to your unborn child as you threaded your fingers through his hair, enjoying the softness it had after a shower. Bruce usually gelled his hair to appear more professional when he was working in the day, and then it would get all mixed up with his sweat under his cowl when he was working as Batman. When he would come back to you after the day was over, you would refuse to touch his hair until he had showered, the texture of the gel and sweat too gross on your fingers for you to ignore.

As Bruce continued talking to your baby, his voice started lulling the two of you to sleep. The baby hadn’t kicked in over almost ten minutes now, and the peace you had waited for so long to arrive made you aware of how heavy your eyelids were. You slowly lowered yourself down the bed, getting in a comfortable position with Bruce’s help where you could finally lay your head on your pillow and it didn’t take long for sleep to catch up on you.

At the sound of your soft, barely audible snores, Bruce turned his head away from your bump to find you asleep with your free hand raised next to your head on your pillow, the other one still tangled in his hair.

He planted a soft kiss on the exposed skin of your belly, eyes closed as he took a moment to absorb the fact that a baby that was half you and half him would be joining your world in a little more than three months. Bruce wasn't known to cry, the only time you ever saw him cry was as you walked down the aisle at your wedding, but tonight, a lonesome tear rolled down his cheek and fell on your stomach, where your child was growing, because Bruce never believed he would ever get to experience again the amount of love he hadn't felt since he was eight years old.

As he observed you, sleeping soundly with his child coming to life inside you, after you comforted Dick back to sleep, Bruce, for a moment, felt overwhelmed by all the love in his life. When he became Batman, he crossed out the idea of ever having a family (other than Alfred), of settling down with someone he loved and who loved him back.

But somehow, the universe put you on his path, as a miracle or a guardian angel or simply as an anchor to life outside of Batman, he didn't know. You walked into his home, into his life, to remind him that he, Bruce Wayne, was also deserving of love, of family, of happiness. Then Dick came along, rather unexpectedly but still no less welcomed, and Bruce started entertaining the idea of having children with you. He definitely wasn't opposed to it, but it wasn't something he wanted to jump right into, especially with Dick having just entered your lives. You were both young, he in his early thirties and you in your late twenties, you could allow yourselves a couple of years just the three of you (four with Alfred) before expanding the family.

So it was rather shocking when two months after you and Bruce had officially adopted Dick that you found out you were pregnant. It both took you by surprise but after talking through it together, you couldn't be happier. And the two of you haven't stopped being happy about this new little addition ever since.

Bruce rose up from his position next to your belly, your limp hand fell from his head as he did so, and he laid on the bed next to you. He delicately kissed your forehead, then your nose before falling back on his pillow and whispered “I love you” as he curled around your body, his hand resting on your belly as he fell asleep.

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slushycoookie · 3 months ago

Text

Kinktober Day 6 ~ Free Use

Logan Howlett x Fem! Reader

Summary: Logan really enjoys Free Use. Minors DNI!

A/N: Man, this is what of the ones that I reread a few times bc I really liked this one. Enjoy!

Prev *✧･ﾟ: Next Kinktober '24 Masterlist

Logan was using you a lot.

And by a lot, you mean every single day.

You brought up the idea of constant consent, wanting to have the opportunities to use each other whenever they could. To help with those random urges you and him may have and not be worried if the other didn't feel the same way. Logan was open to the idea.

“I haven't had a lot of urges recently, sugar.” He admitted, scratching the nape of his neck. “I don't want to disappoint you.”

You wave him off, “It's okay! Don't force yourself either. I thought this would be fun to try.”

Since you started, you had your hand in using him a few times. Sucking him off after he just got out of the shower. Water droplets on to your pj's when you make him come at the middle of the door frame. Or when he just got back home from a mission and you're being fucked right by the front door. Face pressed against it as he willingly pounded into you.

But Logan had you beat.

You could blink and somehow you found yourself in a position, taking Logan's cock and forgetting about whatever you were doing before this.

If you were watching a movie, the film would be ten minutes in before you're suddenly on his lap. Logan’s hands on your plump thighs, fucking up into you. Slick noises filling the room as his head was buried in your breasts under your shirt while you’re bouncing in tandem with his movements.

Another time, you two decided keep yourselves entertained by playing a board game. Getting the pieces set up, ready to play for a few hours. Only for twenty minutes to pass and the board was on the floor. Pieces scattered all over while you and Logan go at it on the table. The wooden furniture shaking as he roughly thrusts into you. His face into your neck and claws unleashed as an excuse to make sure you two don't fall off. Only to end up breaking the table in half once he climaxes.

“I'll get us a new table.” He said against your head, but you were too fucked out to care right now.

It surprised you because you couldn't stop thinking about what Logan said that he may not take advantage like that. Yet, here you are, checking to make sure he didn't wore out your birth control. Every day you were practically stuffed with his seed. Be it the morning, afternoon, or night.

You wanted to make sure you weren’t getting worn out from his advances. You weren't a mutant, you didn’t have the stamina to keep up with him. You knew getting huge amounts of rest was key as the muscles in your body ached.

That’s why you were taking it slow while making dinner in the kitchen. Adorned in a cute little apron, a shirt dress and slippers. Throwing all your ingredients in a slow cooker. Logan wasn’t going to be back home until later, much to your relief, so you can rest up from him making love to you in the shower earlier this morning.

You perked up hearing the door open, seeing your man come back not even two hours later.

“You’re back early.”

“Class was canceled.” He pulled you to his body and kissed you with passion. The entire kitchen a little disorganized from your cooking but Logan didn’t care as he bent you over the counter. His hands bunching up your apron and dress while placing open mouth kisses along your back. You whine when he removes your panties, while unzipping his own pants.

Logan’s fingers dip inside you and he could still feel the remnants of his escapade with you earlier. His amused chuckles send shivers down your spine.

“Hope you have room for more.”

Your mouth gapes when he pushes into you and you grip the counter to keep from being jostled. Logan has a strong grip on your hips as he rams into you. Your full ass smacked against his pelvis, on the verge of being sore.

“Mmh, Logan…” You murmur, eyes in the back of your head while you take his cock.

“Hmm? You need something, princess?”

If you did, you couldn’t say it. Mind empty from his advances. You proceed to keep babbling as he’s pressed along your back now, hand wrapped around your throat to angle your face up. Logan’s looking down at you now while keeping that same pace. A sensation follows between your thighs, his rough fingers playing with your clit.

You close your eyes, unable to keep your eyes on him. Logan doesn’t demand you to keep your eyes on him as he groans, rubbing your clit to get you to climax. You wiggle in an attempt to escape, but he doesn’t let you and your high pitched whine occupies the room. Your sex constricting around him. Logan falters, not too far behind when his cum coats you once more.

Your body aches in a good way as the cold countertop helps you cool down. Logan kisses your neck, commenting at how good you did for him. When you try to move, you almost fall. He’s instantly on you, face filled with worry at what he’s done to you.

“Fuck. Fuck, I over did it, didn’t I?” Somehow, you couldn’t speak, body deciding that you over did yourself. You just shook your head, but that wasn’t enough for him. “You can’t even fucking speak. I’m sorry, sugar. I’ll hold back for now on.”

As much as you wanted to say no, you couldn’t help but be relieved. You just needed to get yourself together for a couple of days. You can be proud at how long you lasted though.

Tags (let me know if you want to be added/dropped):

@fandomfics @freythecrazyfae @maddyperezzzsstuff

@mynamesstevenwithav @eyes-ofhell @maxad99

@howlingco @cherrypieyourface @snails-doodles22

@siren-141 @nega-omega @sweetimpurity

@hehekittyhawk @spencerswh0r3 @saintdiior

@maliaofthevalley @wolverigrl @pigeonmama

@shybluebirdninja @yxtkiwiyxt @wtfhasmy-lifecometo

@ripleyswife @davidboqie @angelic-sturniolos111

#kinktober #kinktober 2024 #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x you #logan howlett x black reader #wolverine x black reader #x reader #x black reader #wolverine smut #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #wolverine #cookie's kinktober 2024

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deadghosy · 10 months ago

Note

Since your stuck I decided to help you out with the power of creativity!

How would characters of Hazbin Hotel react to Swan/Duck reader it's branching from penguin reader with how she got stuck in hell for a while

The power mainly focuses on them flying and wind magic ect!

REMINDER: REQUESTS ARE CLOSED‼️

HAZBIN HOTEL X DUCK! READER

Warning: yandere themes.

prompt: a common mistake made your life eventual as people started to fawn over you

You were supposed to be in heaven…BUT NOOOO, they sent you to hell because they mistook you for someone else. They could’ve just said they were full like a night club…

So now you are in a pond swimming around peacefully. But there’s always a man with a hat and an apple cane that comes to see you literally everyday. You don’t know who he is, but he got attached badly. He would bring bread and show you rubber ducks with an awkward smile.

You just go over to him and eat the bread. You never learned how to talk since birth since your mother abused you. Being jealous of your pure soul and natural beauty. She always told you to shush. Making the sour taste in your mouth sting to never talk.

Eventually the man introduced himself as Lucifer, that’s when it hit you that this man was the first fallen angel, and king of hell. He must have seen your eyes widen in shock. “You can understand me?” He asked you as he scratched under your beak making you lean in his touch. You nodded as he smiles showing his sharp teeth.

“That’s even bettter.” He said

Two days after that, you were literally sleeping when you woke up to feel two hands pick you up, it was Lucifer who cooed at your drowsy face as he takes you to a hotel. Were you finally getting a place to stay instead of outside?

“Listen, my daughter has a dream…to redeem sinners…I wanna believe in her, but our people chose to make hell this way.” He says with a somber look. He took you inside to see basically a female version of Lucifer but more cheery looking as she gasped at you. “Dad? Is that the duck you’ve been talking about?! Aww they’re soooo cute!” She says as she holds you.

And that’s your story of how now you are basically part of the hotel’s family.

I imagine you just getting prince/princess treatment everyday from the hotel and Lucifer himself as he literally trims your duck fur as you just sit there on a fancy ass pillow.

I headcannon that angel dust buys you shades a lot because your yellow/white feathers is so majestic, he just had to make you even more bad ass.

Angel dust loves how high headed you are, not letting anyone tear you down even with a word. He admires you, so he wants you to admire him as well.

I headcannon for you to deadass have an attitude when bothered. Literally Alastor wanted to see what was so special about you. And so he woke you up from your beauty sleep making you go haywire on him.

You pecked him as he tried to hit you, possibly trying to injure you only to injure himself as he came out pissed off with a smile. He definitely spit out a feather as you quacked out a laugh as if this shit was looney tunes.

Charlie always rants to you about her days and how her and vaggie’s relationship is going. Charlie was notified by her father that you can understand her. She doubted it at first, but when you actually nodded she gasped shocked with stars in her eyes.

You and Charlie grew close…to the point she was almost like her father. Constantly checking up on you, feeding you. Watching you. You tried to push it off…but it was kinda unsettling.

You could obviously fly, which you do around the hotel to spread your wings. But when you fly you have a glowing yellow light around you.

I can see you just chilling at the bar as residents come in and out as you just get petted as husk grumbles a little and also pets you. Husk was immediately enchanted by your soft duck feathers

You love to make small tornados at sinners who cause trouble in the hotel. You are the hotel’s duck, so you must at least protect the guests at least.

Vaggie is the one to always make sure to research what ducks eat before making sure you can eat them. She likes how you make everyone feel fuzzy and warm inside. Even her.

You damn well hated that you died into a duck body..but it felt nice knowing that you couldn’t just live the possible human or at least whatever you are. Demon or angel. You could possibly be in a pond sleeping and eating bread all damn day.

I imagine Sir Pentious had put a top hat on you that’s similar like the ones his egg boiz wear. So he loves to have you around when he builds things.

You doze off like this and it’s so cute to the point they will record and take a picture of you. (If you don’t wanna click link, it’s a duck nodding its head off until it goes limp since the duck is tired)

I headcannon Alastor to hate you at first and want to cook you for duck stew, but then he falls in love with how entertaining and smart you are. You technically aren’t just a mere duck.

I can see you just making small hurricanes in your bath tub when niffty has to wash you. You once accidentally splashed her. But she chuckled splashing you.

A sinner once tried to take you from the hotel’s pond that Lucifer made for you only be found 30 secs later taking you.

“WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TOUCHING MY DUCKLING?!” Lucifer yells angrily at the sinner who got knocked flat on their ass. His demon form was coming out as fire spits out his mouth when he huffed.

You did a comedic side eye at Lucifer who was acting possessive as hell itself. You didn’t even know what to do as this man kept holding you like a pet duck you seen fat white men do in the streets.

The sinner didn’t live after that.

I can see husk just petting you softly and then eventually just falling asleep on your body. Like his head is on your body as you just watch hell tv as he snores. Oddly comfortable in your soft feathers.

You literally waddle around the hotel wearing a cute scarf with your favorite color. Alastor oddly knitted it for you like a old grandma to their grandchild 😭

I imagine you just side eyeing Lucifer as he suddenly had the urge to read more information about ducks and how their eggs look. So imagine how Lucifer would act if you pregnant. But the thing is, you rather die then be in pain in birth.

Lucifer makes you a lot of blue things to remind you of a pond since that was the place you chill in a lot. It was to the poke Charlie and Lucifer nodded to make you a pond in the backside of the hotel. It’s your little chill haven.

You felt pissy one day because your feathers were molting..so the wind outside was heavy cause your feathers were just falling and you hated it. You felt insecure but the crew felt your feelings and started to cheer you up. Soon or later, your new feathers came back quickly.

The Vee’s had definitely notice your presence since you first came here. I mean who the hell looks like a damn duck down here with pure beautiful feathers that remind them of so called heaven.

I can see the Vee’s and you having the relationship where it’s basically like team rocket and pikachu type troupe. 😭 they always fail trying to kidnap you because you literally put out ducks that look like you and they fall for it, EVERY SINGLE TIME-

I headcannon you have a ribbon your favorite color wrapped around your neck like a bow or collar with your name on it❤️

Vox had literally set his drone to spy on you as he watches with a sick grin at how adorable and elegant you looked just swimming in your sweet pond and how you just outsmart Alastor.

Imagine how badass you are to suddenly turn big in size because the hotel was being threatened. So you literally grew in a size of the hotel building and flapped your wings to fly them bitches to who knows nowhere.

If you were on the same branch, you would definitely be the older sister of penguin! Reader if it was lore type shit 😭 you don’t play no games about your emotions as you are always observing

LOL IMAGINE YOU WADDLING TO GO TO THE BATHROOM LIKE A HUMAN AND THE EGG BOIZ JUST FOLLOW AFTER YOU AS IF YOU WERE THEIR MOTHER-

The Vee’s definitely sneak on you by Vox’s drone that swarms around your pond without your knowledge.

Velvette literally sends you nice outfits your size. Literally cute outfits where the holes are for your wings so you can fly and look drippy as hell.

See I could definitely imagine you sneaking out the hotel to just get hooked up with your new outfit stylist which is Velvette now.

Vox

Imagine how cold the state duck! Reader has (hear me out, edit audio type shit starts playing-)

I can see you just swimming and Lucifer takes a picture of you, admiring your beauty in place as you just flock around your damn pond. “That’s my baby….” He says wiping a dramatic tear from his eyes.

Valentino. Now I won’t say he would be obsessed romantically but more platonically as he would love for you to be part of his life as his pet only. Like an actual pet he would take care of.

I headcannon Alastor actually tried to feed you some bread…and you accepted it making Alastor smile wildly at how you trusted him getting close to you for one.

Lmao you literally did some Wingardium Leviosa ass shit on someone because you didn’t like how they looked at you 😭

You literally are so coddled and spoiled…it was to the point you would be walking or more like waddling down the damn streets alone and people would aw at your beauty and gracious. It’s overwhelming, but at least you know people won’t fuck with you.

But people just never learnt to keep their hands off of a beautiful creature.

Once Adam got sent down to find an angel that was suppose to be in heaven. He didn’t except for you to be a fuckin duck. So he laughed and took you up with ease as you quacked furiously, trying to get at least someone’s attention.

It was too late as Lucifer sees you get flown up into the heaven portal. Lucifer dropped the tray of lemonade in shock to see his beloved flying into the portal. Lucifer felt his heart squeeze knowing that the bastard knew he couldn’t get into heaven.

Lucifer quickly spout out his wings and fly sharply towards adam’s fading figure. Adam snickers seeing Lucifer’s anger in his glowing red eyes. He turned around and waved you around to taunt Lucifer as you had a “I don’t have time for this…” face. Literally you pecked Adam’s face and hands making Adam spazz out and throw you at Lucifer’s face.

“FINE! TAKE YOUR DUMB ASS DUCK!” Adam yells as he flies off grumbling about making you into duck stew

So Lucifer was happy with a derpy expression and calmed down holding you. He got even more protective as he makes sure you are watched 24/7. He wanted to give you freedom…but after that stunt Adam did. He’s not letting anyone touch you without his permission. Of course his daughter can though!

But what if Adam had succeeded in his capture of you, things would be most likely how it was in hell….just more clean and healthy.

St. Peter definitely greeted you with a warm smile as you didn’t….you didn’t like how he just sassed you and let you fall to hell. So of course it was rocky, but soon or later you two got along since he brides you with bread. He soon gets obsessed with how you get so trusting over things. He uses that to his advantages.

Sera greets you with open arms, literally as she picks you up. Cooing at your pure yellow/white feathers that matches the aesthetic of heaven. You match perfectly here as your angel form is two pair of wings. Your normal duck wings and angel wings. You are the most beautiful angel she ever met and laid eyes on as she shows you around heaven. Every part and area of it. This shall be your new home.

Emily won’t be a crazyyy person over you. As I can see her being a light hearted person who doesn’t love bomb you in a manipulative manner but only wants to be your friend in a loving way. She finds you amazing at how smart and caring you are towards her as you visit her and she visits you back. She brings you every bread know to man and heaven as she noticed you like bread. You and her are clearly amazing friends to each other.

The Angels adore your every movement as if you were also a god/godesss. You were confused at this attention. It was way more overwhelming when you were in hell with the others. Just like how the penguin! Reader was, you made a social media account and half of heaven followed you. It was an insane amount of followers that you didn’t mean to have. But the angels love to greet you as you fly/walk by. With you being so graceful here, who wouldn’t say you belonged here.

Adam most definitely is possessive and always manipulates you into thinking he is superior. He forces himself to be your caretaker, he literally makes you stay in his place all day and all time watched over. He feels the need to control your very bidding and movement as this dickhead degrades you to make you feel useless. It sometimes works, but sometimes doesn’t.

Lute is a controlling person who sees your intelligence as a threat as she wants to break you into her clasp. She’s the second most controlling than Adam. But she’s an overwhelming controlling as she wants you you to see her as your protector and person you can be dependent on at all times. She wants you to be able to tell her everything you know so she can just please you.

Adam finds it amusing at how you got use it heaven so quick despite this new attention. You literally sit on his lap napping as he lounges on the couch. Basically watching sports or whatever.

You can’t help but think, “why am I even surprised.”

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entitled-fangirl · 4 months ago

Text

A soft spot.

Cregan Stark x Targaryen!reader

Summary: During the celebration of the birth of Rhaenyra's son, the reader meets the Starks.

A/n: I have to stop writing shit that can make a great series if I ALWAYS FORGET TO WRITE THE SERIES WTF but anyway. I'm gonna tryyyy to write at least one more part to this

Masterlist

.........................................................................

The second the great Lord Rickon Stark saw her, he knew she could've been a Stark in another life. He just knew it.

But she wasn't. She was the Targaryen Princess.

…

With the birth of Princess Rhaenyra's fifth son, Viserys II, the King threw a celebration. A proper tourney, feasting, and the most important: the lord's vowing their alliance to the family once again.

One by one, each Lord was expected to step in front of the intimidating Iron Throne to vow to both Viserys and Rhaenyra to protect the newest addition to the Targaryen line.

Y/n Targaryen stood idly by with her family between her brothers, Aegon and Aemond.

She and Aegon had always been close, their teasing and playful personalities often getting them in trouble. Aegon had always wondered what would have happened if Alicent had betrothed him to her instead of Helaena.

He leaned down and whispered to her, "Which lord do think is shitting his pants right now?"

Her brows furrowed as she looked at him, but he only smirked and motioned for her to look.

She looked over the crowd, her eyes pausing on a particular man that was sweating profusely. An unexpected chuckle came from her throat. She slapped a hand over her mouth to hide it.

Aemond let out an annoyed scoff and glared at her. "Control yourself, sister."

She cleared her throat and nodded. But still she bit her lip to keep the smile from growing.

The next Lord moved forward and began to speak to the King and Rhaenrya.

Aegon smirked and leaned down again, "I mean really, do you think he's ever seen a real person before?"

A loud giggle left her mouth, echoing through the throne room.

Pure silence followed, every head turning in her direction.

Her cheeks turned a bright pink when her father gave a stern look. "Apologies, father. It will not happen again."

King Viserys shook his head in mock annoyance and turned his attention back to the Lord in front of him.

When everyone's attention returned to the throne, she sent her elbow into Aegon's stomach and he let out a grunt.

Lord Stark stood not far from the royals, a smirk on his face the entire time.

…

That night, Lord Stark managed to speak to the girl. His northern accent was thick as he spoke, "Your brother seems a right cruel one to get you in trouble, eh?"

The princess turned to him, "I'm sorry?"

"No, pardon me," He took her hand and kissed it as expected. "'m Lord Rickon Stark of the North."

Her eyes lit up. "Lord Stark, yes. Thank you for journeying so far."

He chuckled and shook his head, "'Tis nothing if it is for the King. I've come for every celebration of every royal birth. Even yours, Princess."

She smiled. "That was some time ago, my lord."

"Indeed."

A voice interrupted them. "Father."

"Ah, my boy," Rickon patted his back firmly. "Princess, this is my only boy, Cregan."

Her eyes met Cregan's, getting lost quickly.

He was a firm and gruff man, that much was obvious. Standing taller than his father, Cregan was built sturdier than the Wall itself, broad shoulders and a strong back hidden under his surcoat. The wolf sigil laid proudly on his chest, but her eyes didn't even journey that far.

"I… M… My Lord…"

Cregan looked between her and his father, "I apologize, princess, if I am interrupting in any way."

She shook the thoughts from her head, "N… No. No. You are not, I promise."

Rickon Stark's smirk grew into a grin.

Cregan nodded, "That is a relief indeed." He looked around before giving his full attention to her finally. "My father has journeyed here many times, but I'm afraid this is my first since I was a mere boy of 4."

"Four? And for what reason was that?" She asked curiously.

"The celebration of Prince Jacaerys' birth." He smiles, "That was many years ago."

"Yes," the words slipped from her tongue lightly as she continued to study the man.

Silence lulled over them, but they did not mind.

Cregan noticed her wandering eyes, and his head tilted as his soft grin grew.

Finally, she broke her train of thought again and turned, "Pardon me, Lord Rickon-"

Rickon had disappeared into the crowd without excusing himself, and the two hadn't even noticed until just then.

Cregan let out an amused chuckle when her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. "My father has been most excited since we arrived here."

"For what exactly?"

"It's," he chuckled again. "It's an embarrassing tell, I'm afraid."

She shook her head, "Do tell me."

He crossed his arms in thought as his typical northern demeanor returned, "I shouldn't. It is not mine to tell, Princess, but my father's."

She hummed, disappointment flashing across her face. "Ah. I apologize. I should not pry at what is not my business to know."

He shook his head, "Consider us even." Then his head turned back to the festivities. "Do excuse me, Princess. It has been a pleasure to meet you."

"You as well."

She'll remember how delicately he had kissed the back of her hand.

…

"Sister, you've been quiet all evening. It is worrying," Aegon grinned when she later sat at the high table.

She leaned to him, "Perhaps because you made a fool of me earlier."

"You know it was all a jest of good fun," he sipped his wine, "Father wasn't even mad at it."

"We were supposed to be respectful to Rhaenyra and her child!" She rubbed at her forehead. "Perhaps you and I should not stand together during serious moments."

He scoffed, "Sister, if we did so, we'd never be seen together again." He took a bite of food and spoke, "This castle is only ever serious."

She finally grinned, "I fear you're right."

Her gaze looked out over the many tables, finally resting on the form of Cregan Stark. His back was to her, practically giving her nothing to note, but she continued to stare.

Until her eyes wandered just barely past him to see Lord Rickon Stark looking back at her with that same knowing grin and twinkle in his eye.

She froze before giving him a nod of her head in acknowledgment and then looked back down at her plate in front of her.

This was going to be a long week.

....................................

A/n: *rubbing my hands together like a little fly* the things I'm thinking yall

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver

#fanfiction #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x you #game of thrones x reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones imagine #cregan stark x y/n #game of thrones x y/n #house of the dragon #cregan stark imagine #cregan stark #cregan stark fanfic #hotd cregan #house of the dragon fanfic #cregan fanfiction #hotd fanfic

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nkn0va · 9 days ago

Note

Wagner, Orie, and Chie with an S/O who makes dirty or lewd jokes?

-At first, Wagner is very openly disgusted at the sheer filth of what you say, instinctually lashing out in anger as she soon realizes what you say.

-The more you say these jokes out loud the more aggressive she gets, quick to bop you over the head and/or berate you, especially if you say them in public.

-You're gonna need to either learn to tone it down with the jokes in public or don't be too suggestive, or this relationship probably isn't going to last. The last thing she needs is taking an S/O home only for them to make dick jokes to her high class parents and give them bad ideas about her as a person.

-If you can manage to do that, the relationship can work, though of course not without it's ups and downs. It's going to take her quite a while to accept the jokes to just be part of who you are.

-Will it take a while to get used to them? Yes, it very much will, but Wagner did fall for you for a reason, even if she might question it at times now. There's still more to who you are as a person than your vulgar sense of humor at the end of the day.

-This poor girl

-Orie was raised in an extremely, extremely sheltered environment. The Licht Kreis is an organization with a lot of religious themes/beliefs to it (outside the rampant misandry). Literally to the point she went several years without interacting with a single man on a regular basis.

-As a result, jokes of the lewd/suggestive nature completely go over her head, having no idea what the hell you're talking about.

-You have to be over the top blatant with your intentions for her to get the hint about what you're saying. And when she finally does she looks like she's about to faint on the spot out of embarrassment. It's almost as if she's second-hand embarrassed on your behalf.

-It's through you that she learns more about how normal people talk and act, sometimes for better, sometimes for worse. She really can't help but get the feeling you're a bit of a special case though. However that might be a reason why she loves you. You're not like anyone else she's met before. She feels like she's really learning how to live for once, be normal, even.

-Needless to say the first inappropriate joke Chie heard from you really threw her for a loop. She sputtered like an idiot, not knowing how the hell to respond to the way you responded to a very much not inappropriate situation.

-Expect her to be the one to keep you in check the most compared to the other two, ranging from gently slapping your arm to bonking you over the head with her fist, especially if children are around.

-She can get used to it eventually, but it's gonna take a while to make that adjustment. It's pretty hard to ignore, but she knows you're more than your sense of humor. You wouldn't get along with her other friends if you weren't. Especially Yukiko, Kanji, or Naoto.

-She might joke back at you to give you a taste of your own medicine if she's feeling up to it. Expect her to either get even more flustered if you can respond or get all smug about it if you can dish it but can't take it.

#persona 4 x reader #persona x reader #chie satonaka x reader #chie satonaka #under night in birth x reader #orie ballardiae #erika wagner

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lakeviewkitsune · 26 days ago

Text

Yandere Wagner hc's

It is finally here. Sorry, I took too long.

(If you are reading this, thank you, and sorry I took a note from Valve and made you wait. Anyway I hope you enjoy.)

. Wagner is insecure and anxious, possessive, and violent. She is also incredibly strict and harsh, which she believes is necessary.

. Wagner never thought she would find love on her own; she assumed she would fulfill her duty and have an arranged marriage since her family would expect and want it, but then she met you. Wagner was cold and harsh and looked down on you. Unfortunately, this was a product of her upbringing. Being raised in a prestigious and noble family gave her a sense of pride along with her rank and duty. You are most likely from outside of her family connections or the Licht Kreis. The two of you know each other only because of run-ins in public or near her school. For one reason or another, you two started hanging out after school, most likely at a café or a park. Wagner is fairly closed off in the beginning, unsure of how to connect with you and your interests. Wagner's hobbies were something that only people in high society cared about or participated in, either too expensive or too foreign for most. Because of this, it took some time before she felt comfortable telling you what she did in her spare time or even showing the talents she was told to learn by her family.

. Wagner’s yandere habits would only start to emerge once there were hints of a romantic relationship. Wagner is far more aggressive compared to Orie or Kaguya. Once you two officially start dating, Wagner will force you into moving into her apartment by talking you into it by arguing it would be financially beneficial and that there was plenty of space. Moving in was very easy since you didn’t even have the chance to start packing. Wagner hired a moving company to help and instead took you on a shopping trip, buying you anything you needed. Wagner will refuse to let you pay for anything, and soon she’ll start covering bills that are normally your responsibility. In Wagner’s mind, she has to do this; she refuses to be useless in any way, shape, or form. Wagner wants to be perfect in this relationship, and one area she can easily cover is finances since he is from a wealthy family. Wagner’s goal is perfection; she will transfer to your school and try her best to spend every moment with you, and after school, she will try to take you out to nice restaurants and cafés. At this point, Wagner already considered marrying you and ensuring the future of the Wagner family. She will also expect perfection from you while you're in school.

. If things go Wagner's way, she will take you to Germany with her, much like Orie, and have you moving into the Wagner family mansion or an estate they own. Wagner will teach rich people manners and etiquette; she wants to make sure her family accepts you as the person to marry the sword of the licht kreis. Wagner, with her family's approval, will marry you, and soon she will expect beautiful hair/hairs; at this point, you can't leave; you never could leave after you flew to Germany, as her contacts in the licht kreis would tell her about you trying to leave her. I hope you enjoy our life married to a noble woman and chained to her home. But now for the evil route, Wagner is insecure—very insecure. The minute you have problems or reject her, she will start to grow frustrated with you. Wagner will become more and more possessive and aggressive towards you, and she will demand more and more of your time. Each time you reject her, her heart starts to fracture, and you swear you feel the room temperature go up slightly each time you do it, but maybe that's your mind playing tricks on you. So she will gain your love the only way she knows how: with force. Wagner will become more aggressive in her approach and overlap her schedule with yours. She will stay at this level for a while, either until she gets what she wants or if she reaches her tipping point. This can happen for various reasons, keeping her at a distance and turning down things she put a lot of time or money into. Or if you confront her on her unhealthy behavior and habits in the relationship and decide to end things with her. She’ll either restrain herself for this one moment or she won’t. If she does, she’ll initially act calm about it. She respected your wishes and would leave, but once you went to sleep for the night, she’d have someone pick you up and take you to her. At this point, you belong to her; you just haven’t admitted it yet. If she doesn’t maintain her composure, well... In her mind it’s your fault she has to gently choke you while threatening you by burning the skin on your neck, making sure to leave a mark, a reminder for you not to lie to her.

. Wagner is no stranger to punishment; she is used to issuing it since very few can do it to her, and she expects to do the same with you. Most punishments come from disobeying or resisting her. She’ll usually confine you to your room if it’s a small act of disobedience or resistance, but she’ll only show this mercy for so long. After all, Wagner is known for her cruelty and sadistic nature, and you aren’t exempt from it. When subjecting you to confinement, she will combine it with a lecture if you keep up this attitude and behavior. She’ll stay at this level of punishment until you yell back, and then she’ll remind you of what she is willing to do: two hands around the throat, then squeeze and burn. She is willing to do so much more if you keep this attitude.

. Any further disobedience will be met with increasing punishment; she is more than okay with getting physical with you. Expect to be met with a slap or a kick of you when you misbehave or try something. This more direct and aggressive version of Wagner will have some new habits of hers; for example, instead of hickeys, she’ll kiss parts of your body or lips, and using her exs to apply a slight burn to it, she’ll limit the exs if it's on the lips, but she won’t if it’s on other parts of your body as her way of marking you for herself. She will always use her exs as a way to brand you, either with a kiss or by using her finger to draw something on your body or to just leave a few marks. If she doesn’t use exs, she will use her branding iron/die that she had custom-made as a way to mark you. Her favorite spots to mark you are your chest and neck since she can view them easily along with hiding them since she doesn’t want anybody else to see them, especially since her family or friends might catch on. If her controlling nature didn’t make the relationship seem questionable. For her risqué side, a part of her wants, and will if pushed enough or if you consent, to brand you above “that spot” (piss off Tumblr) since she likes the idea of seeing her ownership of you even on the most private part of your body.

. The worst moment and/or punishment will come from you constantly pushing her away or escaping. Any attempts at escape in her mind warrant a harsh punishment. Along with your throat, she’ll burn your entire hand. The first offense is just mild burning, nothing a little treatment can’t help. After that she dialed it up since you clearly didn’t understand her; your hand will be burnt to almost a crisp to the point it hurts to do anything, not enough to make it impossible to recover from but enough to leave a scar and reminder of your place, but most importantly to her, it forces you to rely on her. Your knight in crimson armor just needed to discipline you, so just allow her to take care of you, please, or does she need to do the same with your legs? Who is kidding? She isn’t taking a chance with her precious prince/princess. If you try to escape a few more times, or, God forbid, fight back or say you didn’t love her. She WON’T take this well, and she isn’t giving you up either; you brought this on yourself. Expect to be chained by every limb in a hidden room next to her bedroom or a basement, for every day you defied her or any offenses against her rules will warrant a branding on your body. A finger and toe burnt for every escape attempt, then the ankles and wrists for the audacity to defy her. Then the knees and elbows were burnt to the point of permanent damage since you clearly can’t be trusted. Every part that gave you independence or allowed you to rely on yourself has gone away, the body starved to a husk and weakened, the mind fragile and desperate. Now will you just accept her love and accept her as your beautiful and generous wife? And will you, her beautiful and charming prince/princess, become her spouse? Or does she need to keep reminding you of who you belong to?

(Huge thanks to @chefskillet1, @uponawhitehorse13, and @nkn0va and @your-phantomfield for helping me with this, go check them out. If you have any questions just ask or use comments. I will start working on the Kaguya post and then start taking asks for stuff, cheers.)

#under night in birth #under night in-birth #under night in birth x reader #under night in-birth x reader #Erika Wagner x reader #Miyashiro Erika Wagner x reader #Yandere Erika Wagner #Yandere Miyashiro Erika Wagner #yandere headcanons #yandere drabble

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cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme · 6 months ago

Note

Hey-ho! Coffee anon here again to say thanks for the wonderful work on the previous wagner prompt I sent! Cuz I got another one!

Wagner with an S/O who's cautious about being touched, deciding to simply sit on their lap to help them ease into it?

As someone who dislikes touching others or being touched without sufficient mental preparation, I feel this. Also, I definitely put a lot more of my own mannerisms in this than I intended to. My apologies Coffee Anon.

If there was one thing Wagner noticed about you throughout all the time she had spent with you, it was this.

You were meticulous.

Everything had a place.

No detail was overlooked.

You ensured that nothing was not where it belonged.

Not only for yourself, but for others as well.

Herself included.

And yet, despite that, you avoided others.

When Mika misplaced something important you were there only long enough to tell her where it was before disappearing.

You were always like that, appearing to help for as long as you were needed before disappearing as if you were never there and long before any thanks had been given.

Wagner was the only person who could truly say she knew you.

And even to her, you were… distant.

Something about you always seemed to just be beyond reach.

Could it be how you always stood just beyond where someone could reach you?

Could it be the way you never allowed anyone to get close enough to where you could touch them?

She didn’t know.

Nonetheless, she was tired of that distance.

It was only a few steps, and yet it felt like there was an ocean between the two of you.

She only ever saw you at a distance, and while the two of you spoke plainly, there are some things that could not be said in words.

Such as how you unconsciously clenched your fist when someone came too close.

How you moved your fingers in tune with a beat only you could hear when you were thinking.

How you opened and closed your hand into a fist when you were anxious.

How you closed your eyes and took in a breath when your emotions got the better of you.

She wanted to tell you things in a way similar to that as well.

She wanted to hold you close to let you know that she cared.

She wanted to grasp your hand tight to let you know she was there.

She wanted to let you know that she was, and always will, be with you.

And right now, you were doing your best to let her.

It was… stiff to say the least.

Wagner was in your lap as you sat on the edge of your bed, clinging on to you so tightly you could begin to feel your bones to creak.

Meanwhile, you had no idea what to do.

There was no plan for this.

No instruction manual.

Where did you put your arms?

Around her?

But where?

It was now that Wagner spoke.

“Usually, people hug back.”

Tossing caution to the wind, you wrapped your arms around her waist.

This was… nice.

Were you sure you were doing this right?

Definitely not.

And yet… it was not as unpleasant as you thought it would be.

#wagner under night in birth #wagner x reader #miyashiro erika wagner #miyashiro erika wagner x reader #under night in birth #under night in birth x reader

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monstersflashlight · 4 months ago

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If I'm not pushing my luck, can you write something about you being the first hairy person that an elf has been with? Cause I was thinking about it and what if the first human(s) they've been with all shaved and they thought it was standard for us like it was for them, having no hair and all? I really do think they would be both confused and very curious/enthusiastic about it. And what if you were a bit self conscious about it too? 😪 Thank you I'm in love with your stories!!

Hi there! For everyone who hastn't read it, here's the question that started this idea. Enjoy!

Full bush

Elf x fem!reader || oral sex, pussy worship, body hair appreciation

When you got together you thought he already knew all he needed to know about humans. He was with a couple humans before you, two males and one female, so you thought he already knew... But you were wrong.

First time he saw you naked he stared. And stared. And stared some more to the point you got self conscious about it and ended up putting your clothes back on. You slept very unconfortab that night, and he said nothing. You might have cried a tiny bit. Next day he stared at you even with your clothes on, his eyes fixated in your genitals as you looked at him like he was the weird one (which he was). Later that day he broke down and asked you why did you have hair, if it was some kind of birth defect. You almost threw him out the house, but you breathed deeply and proceeded to explain to him that humans had body hair, that it was normal. He then explained that his previous humans had shaved or something because they were as hairless as elves and that's why he was so surprised when you took off your clothes. You understood his reasoning, but you were still a bit self-conscious, human culture already told you it was bad for you to have body hair, but you weren't about to let your elf boyfriend get away with it, too.

So you didn't take your clothes in front of him. Every time you slept together you put your pj's, not looking at him, and went to sleep with that. You weren't a fan of sleeping with clothes, but a woman had to do what a woman had to do. You could feel him hard behind you, but you weren't ready to face that disappointment and staring at your full bush.

But he wasn't having any of that.

By the fifth time you stayed at his house, he stopped you as you were getting undressed. You looked up at him in surprise, just to see his face flushed and a big tent in his sweatpants. "I- I want to see you," he stuttered.

"What?" You asked, your shirt halfway up your torso.

"I- I want to see your body hair," he confessed in a low tone. He looked so cute at the moment, but you were so fucking confused. You thought he hated your body hair.

You couldn't get the surprise out of your voice: "You do?"

"Yes. I- I liked it." He grabbed his dick and readjusted it, the tip pocking at the waistband of his sweatpants. Your mouth was salivating just looking at him shirtless and with those sinful grey sweatpants.

"You liked it?" You asked, your whole body vibrating with anticipation.

"Very much so..." He said, lowering his pants to let you see his erection already leaking profusely. You licked your lips and got undressed.

He stared and stared, and when your panties were finally on the ground, he licked his lips like you were his next snack. And good goddess if you weren't. He threw you on the bed and went down on you for hours. Your legs trembling around his head as he went to town and told you how great you were, how good you tasted and how glad he was that he discovered you had body hair. He sounded mesmerized by the fact and it made you blush as hard as ever as you came against his lips again.

By the time he was done, there was a pool of your juices under you and his face was completely drenched, but what surprised you more was the puddle of cum under him. You asked and he blushed hard, running to the bathroom to get you a towel.

Later, you discovered that he got so excited about you and your body hair and your pussy that he came at least four times while he ground against the mattress and eat you out. It was so hot thinking he got so worked up just by you being you that you had to push him down and blow him until he was crying.

You've never been so glad of his elf stamina.

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marvelwitchergilmore · 4 months ago

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Unexpected Surprises

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> Finding out your pregnant is one thing, having Logan know before you is another.

Disclaimer: Mostly fluff, descriptions of giving birth, Logan's senses are at their full power. He's also read the books. One swear word here and there. Not Proof Read.

If someone had told you, even yesterday, that you would be sitting inside your bathroom with Logan sitting against your sink counter, waiting for a pregnancy test to show you a result he already knew…

You wouldn’t have believed them.

They could have been cursed to tell the truth their entire lives and you still wouldn’t have believed them.

Because it was baffling to you.

And it had all started because Logan - of all people - knew you were pregnant.

It had all started several weeks ago when you had met the team under the school inside Jean Grey’s lab. The others had been talking when you had arrived and slid in to stand beside Logan.

After a moment, he sniffed.

“What is it?”

“Have you changed your shower gel?”

You looked at him with a bewildered look. “No, why?”

“You smell different.”

“I don’t know how comfortable I am knowing you can smell me.” You said, looking up at him. You knew it was a part of his mutation; heightened senses, but it still caught you off guard every now and then.

Logan shrugged. “I can always smell you.”

From there, you both turned to find out why you’d been called down to the lab.

Over the next couple of weeks, Logan noticed a change in you.

You started napping.

For the average person, taking a nap in the middle of the day wasn’t unheard of. But for you, someone who practically lived off four to five hours a night of sleep, constantly running around the place doing things, unable to sit still long enough to even think about taking a nap….

It was unheard of.

First it had been in the living room on the sofa whilst the kids were either out or in their rooms before they’d get called for dinner. Then in the library, the hallway on the window seat bench, the kitchen. And Logan hadn’t been the only one to find you napping.

But he was the only one to move you from where you were and into your bedroom.

And each day your scent was getting stronger.

For the life of him he couldn’t put his finger on it. He had asked Jean about it but since you hadn’t come to her, or hadn’t seemed unlike your normal self, she didn’t see anything to worry about.

Maybe your body was just finally making you listen and telling you to rest.

But as of a week ago, you had been throwing up every meal you had. But you didn’t feel sick. Save for the twenty minutes before and after throwing up. Most of the time you felt hungry and nauseous at the same time.

Except, you’d kept the fact you kept puking to yourself. Until a morning meeting before classes were about to start.

“Excuse me, just a second-”

You just about managed to get out of the door and down the hallway before throwing up the toilet lid and emptying your breakfast back into the water.

Everyone looked around concerned and Jean was about to follow you when Logan caught her by the door. “Let me.”

Logan seemed to know something the others didn’t.

“Is she okay?”

Logan nodded, looking around before finding Charles. “She’s fine,” he replied, turning back to Jean.

“I’ll be back in a minute.”

Closing the door behind him, Logan found you in the staff bathroom, the door unlocked.

Knocking on, he heard you take a breath before flushing the toilet and putting the lid back down. He slowly entered before closing the door behind him and looking at you as you sat on the lid of the toilet seat.

“Here,” Logan grabbed a fresh flannel and ran it under the tap before handing it to you and crouching on the floor so he could see you.

“Thanks.” You took the flannel from him and placed it over your face, wiping it down before folding it over and running it down the back of your neck. “Two weeks. Two weeks and I can’t keep a meal down, but I feel normal.”

“There might be an explanation for that.”

Then you felt yourself starting to cry.

You never cried.

At least, Logan had never seen you cry.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. One minute I’m flushed and wanting to throw up my internal organs, the next I was to sleep for a decade and eat nothing but sugar. Maybe I’m coming onto my period.”

“You’re not.”

You threw the flannel into the sink before looking at Logan. “What?”

“You’re not coming onto your period. You’re pregnant, Y/n.”

“Excuse me?”

Logan sighed. “I can…smell it. Your hormonal changes. And it would explain the tiredness, and the puking your guts up every five seconds. And the emotions.”

You just stared at Logan. “What?”

“If you don’t believe me, take a test. Maybe I’m wrong-”

“You are.” You told him. “I can’t be pregnant. When would I have had-”

Logan raised an eyebrow at you as if to say, “You really don’t remember?”

You looked up, away from him and towards the door, doing the maths in your head.

“I can’t….no. No, I can’t be pregnant.”

“Look,” Logan began. “At least take a test. Just to be sure. I could be wrong…but I don’t think I am.”

The next day Logan drove you into the town and towards the local pharmacy.

Sitting out in the car, you unbuckled your seat belt and looked at the door before turning to Logan. “Will you come in with me?”

And he did. Without question.

Spending a few minutes searching for the tests, Logan found them and handed one over to you. “Can tell as early as…” He read the box. “Five weeks.”

You nodded before looking back at the shelf, grabbing a different box of a different brand, just to be safe. At the counter, the cashier rang up both boxes for you. Neither you or Logan missed the light smile on her face as she looked between the two of you. However, the cashier missed the slightly awkward shift from Logan as he realised what she was doing and he somehow moved both closer to you and away from you at the same time.

“That’ll be seven, ninety five.”

You handed over a ten dollar bill and collected your change. Both yourself and Logan thanked her before shuffling away from the counter, Logan looking behind him as he opened up the door for you, finding the cashier smiling and waving you out.

By the time you both got home, you found a note on the desk in the hallway from Xavier. They had taken the kids out on a school trip to the museum. They should be back by dinner.

So that left you and Logan alone to stand inside your bathroom, avoiding looking at the two tests on the counter.

“I still think it’s weird you can smell the change.” You said out loud, sat on the toilet seat, your hands interlocked with each other. “I mean…what does it even smell like?”

You unlocked your hands and pressed them between your knees, turning to look up at him as he leaned against your sink counter.

Logan seemed a little out of it, his head somewhere else for a moment as his eyes remained fixed on the skirting board whilst he brushed a hand repeatedly across his face.

“Huh?” He snapped out of it, brushing his face one last time before moving his hands so they were against the cold counter before crossing his feet and crossing his arms once more. “Oh, uh, I don’t know, It’s just different.”

“Like a bad different?” You asked.

“Just…stronger, I guess. Why do you even want to know? I thought you found it weird?”

You nodded. “I do. But you can’t tell me you’ve got questions for things you find weird.”

Logan looked at you. “What? Like your ability to watch a serial killer documentary before you go to bed, yet you won’t watch horror movies?”

“I knew you found that weird!”

Logan nodded. “That’s because it is. Scott isn’t allowed near you in the month of October because you said he watches too many scary movies.”

“I can see it in his aura. Being near Scott in the month of October is like putting you next to a magnet and hoping you don’t get stuck to it. Horror movies scare me any time of year, it’s just stronger in October. And Scott watches too many.”

“Who knew the woman who used to work for the FBI, doesn’t like horror movies?”

“Technically, I worked in the labs. Not the field.”

“Still. FBI that’s afraid of a couple jumpscares on a set full of actors. Kind of ironic if you ask me.”

“Oh, please.” You replied, turned back to looking at the door. “You’re just as scared of them. Don’t think I didn’t spot the claw shaped holes in the pillow from last Halloween.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Logan squirm.

“How long is left on this thing anyway?”

You looked at your phone. “Twenty seconds.”

You both watched as the timer went off before looking at each other. “Ready?”

It took you a second, but you finally nodded and Logan stood back up straight. As did you before pulling the face down tests from the counter.

Logan stood behind you, his hand absentmindedly coming to your hip as he looked over your shoulder. You closed your eyes before turning them round and took another second before finally opening them.

It felt like the wind had been knocked out of you.

Two lines.

Both tests.

Two, vibrant, clear from space, lines.

And despite him being the first to know, everything suddenly felt a lot more real for Logan.

“Oh my god,” you breathed out before you felt yourself starting to cry again. “Oh my god.”

You looked at Logan through the mirror before turning around and his arms wrapped themselves around you as you stood on your tiptoes to bury your face into his neck.

“What do you need? Tell me what you need.”

You set yourself back on your feet, your eyes locked on Logan’s chest. “Sleep? I think.”

Logan smiled a little and brushed the hair out of your face, kissing your forehead. “Okay.”

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you…” The question disappeared. “Stay with me.”

With his eyes fixed on yours, Logan nodded.

Laying down beside you, his arms wrapped around you whilst your legs tangled with his. And for a moment, he was transported back almost nine weeks ago when you and him had finally crossed the one line you both swore you’d never cross with each other, in a motel room, just off the highway leading back into New York.

Neither of you woke up until a few hours later where you found yourself lay on your side, Logan’s arm around your middle with his hand gently pressed to your belly, whilst he remained behind you, a little more on his front, his face half buried in his pillow.

Having felt you move, Logan stirred awake for a moment to fully turn onto his side. But you just kept looking at him.

Just like you had done almost ten weeks ago when you watched the sunlight that was beginning to peek through the curtains that never just quite shut all the way, dance across his bed-ridden hair and over the muscles in his back, ghosting over where the sheet was draped over his bottom half.

And just like then, you brushed a few of the stray hairs from his face, watching his too tired muscles unable to fight off the smile on his face whilst his hand came up and held yours against him for a moment before he kissed the centre of your palm.

“What time is it?”

“A little after four…I think. I don’t think the others are back yet.”

“I think we’d know if they were.” Logan joked a little before gazing at you. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, I think. A little less sick.”

“Good.”

You nodded for a moment before looking back at Logan. “I think I want to do this.”

Logan gave you a questioning look for a moment. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “I’m sure. If you don’t want to-”

“I want to.”

It wasn’t ever a second thought for Logan when he had come to terms with you being pregnant, as well as him being the first to know. He would have supported any decision you made, but he couldn’t help but feel a little more than happy when you confirmed his question.

He had been in love with you ever since you had splattered midnight spaghetti sauce on your face from when you had slurped spaghetti. He had chuckled and wiped a spot from your chin with his thumb.

Of course, he wasn’t blind.

He had always found you attractive since he first met you, but becoming your friend and falling in love with you two years later over a bowl of spaghetti as you graded papers…that was something he could have only ever dreamed of.

That night, he thought about kissing you. But promised himself he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. You were both friends.

And when you both almost kissed after having stepped into him whilst you were both outside looking for logs to put on the fire pit outside, he had a strong feeling you felt what he was feeling, too.

But fear…stopped you both.

And Rogue’s voice from shouting for you both since you’d both been gone ten minutes longer than you had planned.

But that night in the motel room.

Neither of you could deny it anymore. And there was no one around to interrupt.

Maybe both of you wished it had happened a lot more smoothly. But neither of you could deny you weren’t not happy about what had happened.

“You want to?” You rallied his words back to him, trying not to smile too much.

Logan nodded. “I want to.”

“Good.”

“One thing,” you said. “What do we tell the others?”

“You didn’t tell anyone what happened?”

You shook your head. “No. Work kinda got in the way.”

Which it did. A few hours after the motel, you had both gotten a call to get back to the school as quickly as you could. And work got too busy, neither you or Logan had time to talk about what happened and before you both knew it, it got too late to mention it again.

“Did you?”

Logan shook his head. “No.”

“This is gonna be a shock to their system.”

You nodded in agreement. “Maybe we don’t tell them so soon. At least wait until the twelve week scan.”

“Agreed. Accept-”

“Jean’s got to know.”

Logan nodded and clicked his teeth.

“But we can trust her. Maybe we’ll just have to corner her in her lab before she and Scott have lunch together.”

Logan nodded. “Good idea. Does the lab even have a sonogram machine?”

You reeled back a little. “Logan…”

“What? I might have…read…a couple of books.”

You could help but smile. “You read books? On pregnancy?”

Logan shrugged, once again trying to hide his smile. “Had to know if I was right about you being pregnant. And if I was, I wanted to know…what to expect. Just because I’m nearly 200 years old doesn’t mean I know what I’m doing.”

“And the entire world takes a sigh of relief. Even the oldest man in the world doesn't know what he’s doing. Maybe we don’t have to have it all figured out right now.”

Logan smiled, his hand pressing gently against the bottom of your back, pulling you closer to him. “Maybe we don’t.”

“But we’re gonna do this together?”

Logan gave you a nod and smiled. “We’re gonna do this together.”

By the time the others got back, Logan was on cooking duty since the smell of everything was sending you into waves of sickness once again, until Logan handed you a small bag of sweets with a couple of pretzels inside that helped curb your cravings and settled the sickness.

And, just like you had said, you found Jean in her lab just a little after Scott had left and told her what she needed to know.

Within moments she had you lay on the examination table and Logan wheeled a chair over to be by your side whilst she scanned your stomach to find your uterus.

“Have to say, you two took your time.”

“Huh?”

Jean smiled. “Rogue was sure something had happened that night at the firepit when she went to find you two. When she finds out she’s gonna be thrilled something did finally happen.”

You and Logan looked at each other. “Other than Rogue…how many people think that…”

“You two would finally stop being idiots and do something about it?” Jean clicked a couple of buttons on the monitor. “Everyone.”

“Everyone?!”

Jean smiled. “Yep. And now they’re gonna be thrilled. Take a look.”

Jean explained what you were looking at. “See, here their head, and their feet. They look pretty comfortable there, tucked up nice and cosy.”

Jean did a couple other things whilst you and Logan looked at the screen, Logan’s hand taking yours in his before he kissed your palm again.

“Wow…she’s so small.”

You looked at Logan with a smile, and tears in your eyes. “What makes you so certain it's a girl?”

Logan shrugged. “I just do.”

Squeezing his hand, you smiled and looked back at the monitor.

“I’d put you at about a little over nine weeks. We should be able to hear a heartbeat.”

You looked a little shocked, not expecting to hear a heartbeat so soon. But Jean found it and…you breathed. Or maybe you held it. You weren’t quite sure.

“Stay still,” Jean laughed a little.

“Sorry,” you apologised.

Logan held onto your hand, tears forming in his own eyes. But for two reasons. One; finally being close to you, seeing your baby and hearing their heartbeat. And two; the small thumping Logan had heard every time he was around you, almost like an echo of your own – or maybe his – had been your baby.

The baby you were having together.

He had been hearing their heartbeat for almost a week.

“Logan…that’s our baby.”

There was no stopping his smile. “That’s our baby.”

With his other hand at the back of your head, his thumb making familiar strokes back and forth, he kissed you and you squeezed his hand a little tighter, never wanting to let go.

“I’ll set this recording for you and print off a couple of pictures. Congratulations guys. You’ve got a very healthy baby.”

Jean did as she said she would and by the time you were clean of the gel and sat back up with Logan standing by your side, Jean gave you a couple of information booklets.

“I think Logan’s already got most of it covered,” you said with a smile, catching his slightly sheepish look. “But thank you.”

Jean hugged both of you. “Congrats guys, and don’t worry. They won’t hear anything from me.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

By the time you both got back to your room, you had one picture, as did Logan however the third one, Logan kept looking at.

Without saying anything, you both came to an agreement and it wasn’t long before you found who you were looking for.

Closing the library door, you checked all the spaces before confirming both yourself, Logan and Rogue were alone.

“What’s going on?”

Coming to a stand, Rogue stood in front of Logan and you rounded the table to stand beside him.

He held out the picture. “We wanted to give you this. Figured you should be the first to know…apart from Jean.”

Rogue took the photo in her hands from Logan, it taking a minute before it all finally clicked in her head and confirmed what she was looking at.

Baby Y/L/N HOWLETT printed in bold white ink in the corner.

Rogue burst into a smile and let out a small laugh before hugging both of you quickly. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god!”

“But you can’t tell anyone.” Logan told her. “At least not yet.”

Rogue shook her head. “I-I won’t. I promise. Oh my god!”

She hugged you both again before stepping back.

“I knew something was going on between you two! Congrats, guys! Oh, my god! This is just…incredible. Insane.” Then she calmed down for a moment. “Thank you for telling me.”

Logan shrugged. “Figured the kid’s Aunt would want to know first.”

Rogue smiled even brighter and then looked down at the picture lovingly. “When do you find out the gender?”

“In a couple of weeks,” you smiled, holding onto Logan’s hand and arm. “But he thinks it’s a girl.”

“You do?” Rogue asked, with a smile still prominent on her face. “You two are gonna make the best parents.”

“Thank you.”

“Thanks, Kid.”

And she was right.

As was Logan when, only a few weeks later, Jean confirmed that you both were in fact going to be the proud parents of a baby girl.

And by the time it came round to you giving birth, you may have bruised Logan’s hand as well as scared Scott into never watching a horror movie where a woman gives birth, ever again.

Bobby had been the first to find you when you went into labour. You were hunched over the counter in the kitchen, holding onto your belly.

“Y/n, are you okay?”

You managed to shake your head. “No.”

Then your waters broke.

“Oh, uh, okay. Okay. Rogue!”

Practically sliding around the door, Rogue saw what was happening. “Oh, crap. Okay. Bobby, go and find Logan.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“He’s…” you grunted through the pain. Jean had warned you that having a baby with one mutant parent might speed things along, but two?

As you had gathered from Jean’s easy let down…

You were fucked.

“Ugh.” You grunted. “He’s…he’s out in the gardens…they had trouble…ahh…they had trouble moving…”

“Just breathe.” Rogue assured you. “Bobby, go.”

And he did.

“Okay, we’re gonna get you downstairs. I’ll call Jean.”

Twenty minutes later, Jean was back from her store run and rushed inside the school only to nearly collide into Logan.

“Where is she? I can’t find her.”

“Rogue helped her down to the lab.”

When Jean and Logan finally ran inside, they found you bracing yourself on the bed as Rogue rubbed up and down your back and you felt the pain kick up a notch.

“They’re here! They’re here. Logan.”

Logan was already on it, replacing Rogue’s hand with his own in yours. “Where the hell were you?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“How’s your pain?” Jean asked, walking back inside in her scrubs.

“Ever been kicked by a horse in your pelvis?”

Another contraction started up and as you held onto Logan’s hand, you braced yourself on his other arm.

Jean gave a hidden laugh from your comment and started setting everything up.

“Just tell me when the pain stops and we can get you moved onto the bed.”

It took a moment but eventually it slowed and, with Logan’s help, you got into the hospital bed and Jean checked you over.

It was a few more hours before you were ready to push.

“No, I can’t. It hurts.”

“Just a few more pushes. Come on, you can do it.”

Logan held onto your hand whilst his other arm supported you around your shoulders and back. “You can do it. Just a couple more and it’ll be over.”

You groaned. “Why can’t we be seahorses? The males have to push and they’re only pregnant for ten days.”

Logan could help but laugh a little. “We can always get Chuck to come down and narrate this. He’s no David Attenbourogh but he is English.”

“Oh, shut up.” You laughed a little. “Don’t make me laugh. I’m in enough pain as it is.”

Another contraction started up and you began to push again.

“That’s it! Good…just a little longer.”

Fifteen minutes later the room was filled with the cries of a newborn baby girl and you felt yourself cry a sigh of relief, joy and worry.

“You did it, honey.” Logan kissed your temple. “You did it.”

“Where is she? Is she okay?”

Jean smiled and nodded. “She’s perfect. Dad? Want to do the honours?”

Logan kissed you and walked over towards Jean, his hands trailing away from yours before reaching for the scissors Jean handed him.

Cutting the cord, Jean hurried to weigh and measure your daughter as quickly as she could before handing her over to you for skin to skin contact.

“Oh my god, she’s beautiful.”

Logan was crying tears of happiness. “She looks just like her Momma.”

“Congrats, you guys.”

“Thank you.”

You couldn’t take your eyes off of her. She was…everything.

Logan sat beside you on the bed, his arm above your head and the other around both of you. He saw you in her, but you saw him.

“You guys picked a name yet?” Jean asked, standing on the other side of the bed, the camera by her side from where she’s taken a couple of photos already.

Both yourself and Logan had been quiet about the names you had picked.

“We haven’t decided yet.” Logan told her, his eyes never leaving his daughter.

“But whatever it is, Marie is going to be her middle name.”

Jean smiled and took yet another picture. Everyone had been waiting years for this moment, for you and Logan to finally get together, for you both finally to realise you were both always meant to be, even before either of you knew it.

They were going to want pictures to keep forever of this moment.

As were you two.

And the ones Jean took were just the first of many to be taken, from everyone holding her beside you and Logan, to the big family photo with her in Logan’s arms, to the one you would always keep by your bedside of Logan holding his daughter for the first time. To birthday’s, Christmases, Easter, family dinners, first steps, first words.

The others that made a small collection in your memory box for her, where she’s learning to walk, holding onto Logan’s fingers, climbing up her dad and going over his shoulder, finding easter eggs with Logan and Rogue, sitting in Xavier’s lap at his desk, learning to bake for the first time – a picture you didn’t know existed until you found it in the small box Logan had been keeping. He had taken the picture of you and her when you weren’t looking and had multiple copies.

There was a picture of every moment and every memory that both of you would always treasure forever.

And even when the sleepless nights felt endless, neither of you wanted to change it for the world.

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sasheemo · 2 months ago

Text

Long day, huh?

Pairing: Detective!Agatha (Agnes O'Connor) x Reader

Summary: Your girlfriend Agnes Agatha, lost to the Scarlet Witch’s spell, has no memory of you or the life you shared. But tonight, you have a daring plan to bring her back.

Tags: Smut, Established Relationship, Strap-ons (Rr), Car Sex

Word count: 6.9k

A/N: So, first Agatha smut! Hope it doesn't suck that bad - would love to hear your thoughts if you’re up for it 💜

MASTERLIST

Read on AO3

It’s torture, seeing her like this. Agatha, your Agatha, right there yet completely out of reach, trapped under the Scarlet Witch’s spell.

You’ve been together for centuries, standing side by side through battles and blood, through the kind of love that’s spanned lifetimes.

You were there when she first sensed something off in Westview, when she decided to investigate what was happening, and you offered to come along. But everything went south, and now she’s here, roaming around the streets of Westview every day as a ghost of herself, believing she’s someone else entirely. Every moment you see her as this rough, almost bitter stranger, this ‘Detective Agnes’, it drives a wedge through your heart. But tonight, desperation gives birth to a reckless idea: if she can’t remember who she is maybe you can make her remember.

It’a a Friday night, and the most popular bar in Westview is pretty packed, humming with a low murmur and the occasional clink of glass.

You step inside, searching, and your gaze falls on her almost immediately. She’s right there, Detective Agnes, a rougher, possibly even quirkier version of the woman you’ve loved for centuries, sitting alone at the bar, absently nursing her drink. In the dim light, she looks as alluring as ever, though that familiar playfulness you knew is buried under layers of frustration and some sort of hard-earned dominance. And yet, you have to admit, part of you doesn’t mind it. In fact, you find yourself… intrigued.

There’s something thrilling about this version of Agatha. Agnes is rough, unapologetically bossy, carrying that particular brand of perpetual irritation that somehow only makes her more magnetic. Not that your Agatha didn’t have these traits, but this… adaptation of her takes them to a whole new level.

You’ve always loved the way she embodied both her feminine and masculine sides so seamlessly, owning every part of herself with that perfect blend of charm, ambiguity, and raw sensuality that defies any simple definition. Agnes though, leans heavily into her masculine side, and you’re definitely not complaining. Not one bit.

You smooth down the short black dress hugging your figure, fingers adjusting the purple gemstone at your collarbone. With slow, intentional steps, you close the distance, sliding onto the stool beside her. The heavy air around her feels electric, an unspoken charge palpable even through her indifference. She’s flipping idly through a small notebook, likely filled with dead ends from whatever “case” has been haunting her lately.

You lean in, letting the bar’s low light and smoky scent curl around you both. “Long day, huh?”

She doesn’t look up right away. She lets out a sigh, flipping another page in her notebook before her gaze shifts in your direction, mildly annoyed. The moment her eyes meet yours, you feel a spark, realizing those mesmerizing blue eyes will always have the same effect on you, no matter what.

“Would’ve liked to have a quiet drink.” she mutters, lifting her glass as if to punctuate her point. “Not exactly in the mood for small talk.”

“Good thing I’m not here for small talk, then.” You smile, tipping your head slightly, and you see her interest flicker, even if her eyes narrow.

There’s a beat of silence, her gaze lingering a little longer than necessary. She radiates that annoyed, no-nonsense attitude, but there’s something in the way she holds herself tonight that makes you wonder if there isn’t some part of her that still recognizes you, that feels the pull between you. You watch her expression, the rough angles of her face, the way she leans back, sizing you up with all the caution of a predator who’s just discovered someone bold enough to trespass.

“I don’t think I know you.” she says finally, a challenge in her voice.

Your smile doesn’t falter and you lean in just a little closer, enough to catch a whiff of her. Agnes carries this scent of cold air and something darkly earthy, stark and distant. It’s a sharp contrast to Agatha’s usual rich, heady fragrance, the kind that clings to your clothes and fills the room long after she’s gone. But somehow, this raw, unfamiliar scent only adds to her allure, drawing you in deeper.

“Guess that depends on what you think you know.” your voice drops to a low, almost mocking purr, a faint smirk playing at the corner of your mouth. You hold her gaze, letting the challenge hang in the air between you, your eyes glinting with just enough mystery to keep her guessing.

She lets out a quiet, humorless laugh, but something in her eyes shifts, something curious, as if you’ve stirred something in her she can’t quite place. She looks at you a beat too long before shaking her head and turning back to her drink, as if trying to ignore that spark.

You watch her for a moment, her fingers curling around the glass, her body language guarded, closed off. But there’s that trace of interest, the smallest crack in her armor. She’s intrigued, even if she won’t admit it.

She might be Agnes right now, but you still know how to push her buttons “Looks like you could use a distraction, Detective. I’ve heard it’s been nothing but dead ends for you lately.” you murmur with a sly smile.

Her hand pauses on the glass. The annoyed look is back, but this time it’s different, that reluctant curiosity now obvious on her face. She sets her glass down with a thud, meeting your gaze head-on. “Careful, doll. I don’t do well with strangers thinking they know more than they should.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” You raise your hand, as if in surrender. “I just happen to know that sometimes the best way to clear a clouded mind is a little… fun.”

At that last word you can see her tense up, her shoulders straightening, gaze sharpening. A hint of a smirk crosses her face, but she quickly tamps it down. Agnes may be all business, but there’s a flicker of something in her eyes that’s raw, hungry.

“Dance with me.” you say softly, your fingers reaching out to brush the cool glass of her drink. “Who knows, might be exactly what need…”

She lets out a soft snort, like she’s about to dismiss you, but then she pushes back from the bar. Standing, she adjusts her flannel shirt, slipping the small notebook into the inner pocket with a quick, practiced motion as her dark eyes stay trained on you with an intensity that makes the air thicken. She’s a predator through and through, and for a moment, you feel the weight of her gaze like a physical thing, binding you in place.

She holds out a hand, and you take it, feeling her strong fingers and the roughness of her skin against your own. She pulls you toward a crowded corner of the bar where people are already moving to the low, steady beat thrumming through the room. Dim lights cast a warm, hazy glow, bodies swaying close around you, amplifying the charged atmosphere.

Agnes holds you with a firmness that’s almost possessive, both hands at your waist. Her gaze locks onto yours, and in this moment, she’s both a stranger and achingly recognizable, the rough edge of Agnes mingling with the soul of Agatha beneath. Every inch of her exudes assertiveness, her energy powerful and magnetic as her hands rest on your body with unbreakable certainty.

The dance starts slow, a sway more than anything else, but as the tension grows, she pulls you a little closer. Her gaze flickers down to the necklace at your collarbone, the deep violet stone a stark contrast against your skin. You catch the faintest twitch in her expression, her eyes darkening as she lifts her gaze to meet yours again. There’s a hunger there, a dangerous, simmering intensity that speaks of possession and intrigue.

“You’ve got a strange way of introducing yourself.” she murmurs, her voice low, carrying an edge of danger. “Most people don’t… walk up to me like this.”

You lean in, your voice a whisper against her ear “I’m not ‘most people’, Detective.”. You let that last word linger, savoring the irony of it, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you think of the illusion she’s wrapped up in.

She chuckles, a rough sound that vibrates through you, and her hold on your waist tightens, fingers pressing into your skin through the thin fabric. “Maybe you’re just a little too bold for your own good.”

You don’t bother to reply, feeling the intensity between you coil tighter as her hand slips around to the small of your back, pulling you firmly against her. Her gaze holds yours, dark and fierce, that rough, predatory edge simmering into something more primal. The dance transforms, becoming less about the music and entirely about the electrifying connection between you, every look and touch stoking the fire higher.

You press closer, letting your hips grind against hers in slow, deliberate circles, matching the pulsing rhythm that fills the room. Each movement is calculated, provocative, testing the limits of her restraint. You can feel the tension radiate through her hands as they grip your waist, and her breath seems to hitch every time your body sways against hers.

In the dim light, shadows fall across her face, but her eyes glint with a deepening hunger. You reach up, one arm slipping around her neck as your fingers trace along her skin before threading into her hair. The contact is intimate, possessive, and she leans into it, visibly captivated by the press of your body and the brush of your fingers. With a mischievous smile, you let your other hand glide up her face, fingertips trailing along the line of her jaw as you bite your lip, savoring the spark of control you have over her.

In an instant, something snaps. Agnes moves with a swift, unrestrained urgency, her hands locking onto your hips as she spins you around, pulling your back against her with a possessive force that steals your breath. Her body presses flush against yours, fitting perfectly, her grip on you strong and unyielding.

The rhythm of the music seems to fade as she matches your movements from behind, grinding into you in time with your slow, rolling pace. The friction between you is scorching, each press of her hips intensifying the heat building between you. Her hands slide along your waist, her fingers digging in as if anchoring herself to you, claiming every inch of space between you.

With Agnes pressed firmly against your back, one of your hands finds its way behind her neck once again, fingers weaving into her hair as your bodies move together, grinding in sync to the steady beat. The desire simmering between you is overwhelming, each movement intensifying the tension coiling in your core.

But as her grip stays firm on your hips, you become aware of something else, something hard pressing insistently against you. The firm, unmistakable pressure against your ass makes your breath catch in your throat, the perfect trigger for a molten rush to spread through your veins.

You glance over your shoulder with a smirk, voice low and teasing. “Is that what I think it is, Detective?”

The smug grin spread across her face makes it clear she was waiting for your reaction, every inch of her expression dripping with satisfaction. The look only fueling the heat pooling between your thighs. Her fingers travel up your sides, leaving a trail of sparks across your skin. She grazes just beneath your breasts, her touch light but deliberate, the fabric of your dress doing little to dull the fire she ignites.

“Behave.” she whispers, her lips brushing the shell of your ear. There’s an edge to her voice, rough and commanding. “And maybe I’ll reward you.” she continues, a low purr full of promise.

But you’re here on a mission, not to behave. Definitely not to behave.

Letting the music and her warmth embolden you, you reach back with your free hand, fingers slipping between your bodies to trace a slow, tantalizing path downward. She doesn’t stop you, if anything, she presses in closer, her breath hot against your neck.

Your movements halt for a split second as your fingertips brush the cool metal of her belt buckle, a shiver running through you at the sensation. Biting your lip, you continue your descent, fingers tracing slowly along the rigid line of her zipper, feeling the unyielding heat straining against it. When your palm finally presses against her, you can feel the hard, thick bulge beneath the fabric, and the sensation sends a surge of desire straight to your core. A low, breathless moan threatens to escape, and you barely hold it back, relishing the sensation as the need builds, leaving you aching for more.

Your fingers trail along her length teasingly, taking your time, and you feel her body tense behind you, hear the soft, low growl in her throat. She drops her forehead to your shoulder, her breath rough as you continue your movements.

You tilt your head back, allowing her see the satisfaction in your eyes, a look you know will get to her. Her breath catches as your fingers continue to tease her mercilessly. “Mmm” you hum with deliberate appreciation. “I knew you’d be… impressive.” you murmur, voice low and dripping with praise.

The effect is immediate, and exactly what you’d hoped for. Her nails dig into your waist, her restraint slipping further as a husky sigh escapes her. She presses into you and raises her head to meet your gaze, the challenge in her eyes flaring, daring you to push her further.

You’ve always loved how, deep down, Agatha is so desperate for praise. She always had that little spark of pride that flares with each admiring touch, each appreciative word. But with Agnes, that need seems to linger closer to the surface, raw and unapologetic. In this form, she practically soaks up every word, every look of admiration you give her, like she’s reveling in the attention.

She’s holding herself back, barely, and you can feel the restraint beginning to crack, the thrill of it washing over you as she takes one grounding breath. “Keep that up…” she mutters, her tone both a warning and an invitation, “and you’ll see just how impressive I can be.”

With her words still in the air, she thrusts her hips forward, grinding firmly against your hand so you feel the full, hard length of her strap straining through the fabric of her pants. Simultaneously, one of her hands moves to your throat, fingers curling possessively around it in a strong, yet gentle, grip. Instinctively, you arch into her touch, pressing closer, wanting to feel every inch of her as she is pushing against you. The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you, and you can’t hold back the moan that slips from your lips.

Her body freezes at the sound, and for a heartbeat, everything is still. Then, without a word, she grabs your hand, her grip firm and unyielding as she pulls you toward the exit. You can barely keep up with her long strides as she navigates through the bar, her silence and focus only heightening the anticipation that’s been building between you. The moment you step outside, the cool night air hits you, sharp and bracing, a stark contrast to the heat coursing through your veins.

Agnes doesn’t pause as she leads you across the dimly lit parking lot, her hold on your wrist commanding, purposeful. But just as you near the shadowy corner where her car is parked, she suddenly turns, and with a fierce intensity, she presses you against the rough brick wall of the bar. The shock of the cold surface behind you only fuels the fire inside, and before you can catch your breath, her mouth is on yours.

The kiss is raw, unrestrained, her lips claiming yours with an urgency that’s nothing short of devastating. Her tongue parts your lips, exploring with a fierce hunger that’s both intoxicating and overwhelming, each movement igniting something hotter, deeper. She moves against you with a possessive need, her hand tangling in your hair as she tilts your head back, deepening the kiss even further.

“Is this what you wanted, huh?” she mutters against your lips, voice thick and dripping with need. Her other hand moves down to grab your ass, pulling you against her, her grip rough and unapologetic. You can’t hold back the gasp that escapes you, the thrill of it leaving you breathless.

Your hands find their way to her waist, fingers digging into the fabric of her shirt as you pull her closer, every inch of her body pressed firmly against yours. She tastes like whiskey and something darker, something that only fuels your desire, making you want more, need more.

“Teasing me like that all night… you knew exactly what you were doing.” her voice is almost a growl against your lips, her frustration and need laid bare, her words punctuated with another possessive press of her hips.

Your heart races, and you find yourself grinning through the haze of desire. “Maybe I did.” you whisper, a daring edge to your tone.

Her smirk deepens as she leans in, mouth brushing against your ear. “Good.” she breathes “Because now… you’re mine.”

The intensity of her words leaves you dizzy, every nerve lit up, aching, ready for more. She slides a leg between yours, pressing firmly against you in a way that makes your instantly whimper. The sudden pressure tugging at your last restraints, making it impossible to hold back. You pull her into a fierce, consuming kiss, your mouths crashing together, hot and unrestrained, her taste filling all of your senses.

With a deliberate move, you catch her bottom lip between your teeth, biting down just hard enough to pull a throaty moan from her. The sound makes something inside you snap, a fire igniting that feels like it’s burning you from the inside out. You let your tongue glide over the spot you just bit, slow and teasing, savoring the slight tremor that runs through her in response.

Your eyes meet hers, hooded and dark with lust, each breath mingling as you hold her gaze, refusing to look away. “I want you to ruin me.” your voice is barely a whisper against her lips, but every word is thick with hunger. You let the desire in your eyes say the rest, the intensity of your gaze leaves no room for doubt, a challenge and surrender all at once.

You watch the way her pupils dilate, her eyes flashing with something feral and ravenous. Without another word, she grabs your hand again, leading you the last few steps to her car, parked in the shadowed corner with only a few other cars nearby.

As you near the car, you instinctively move toward the passenger side, expecting her to get in and drive you to her place at speed light. But Agnes doesn’t head for the driver’s side. Instead, she stops just behind you, her presence looming as you reach for the passenger’s door handle.

“Other door, doll.” she murmurs, her voice dripping with intent. A shiver runs down your spine as the implication sinks in. You glance over your shoulder, finding her gaze steady, intense, and unmistakably clear. She’s not planning on taking you anywhere.

You release the handle, heart racing as you step to the rear door, her gaze burning into you with every move. Inside of the car, the familiar scent of leather mixed with something distinctly “her” fills the small, darkened space. Agnes follows, sliding in close beside you, shutting the door to enclose you both in a cocoon of shadows and anticipation.

The air is charged with an unspoken understanding as her hand finds your bare thigh, fingers pressing possessively as she leans close, breath warm against your cheek. There’s a pause, enough to let you savor what’s about to unfold, before she brings her mouth to yours, claiming you with the raw hunger that’s been simmering all night.

Her hand starts to move in a slow, tantalizing journey upward, fingers tracing your skin and slipping beneath the hem of your dress, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. A soft moan escapes you, muffled against her mouth as her touch becomes bolder.

As her fingers graze your inner thigh, both firm and unbearably light, a whimper slips out of your lips. She pulls back just enough, gaze momentarily dropping to where her hand is inching closer to where you need her most, her breathing heavy as she watches you unravel beneath her touch.

Each slow, deliberate movement seems meant to drive you wild, her smirk making it clear she’s relishing each shaky breath you take. Without breaking eye contact, her hand ventures further, until her fingertips reach your clothed core, brushing against the patch of wetness that is seeping through the fabric. Her touch sends a surge of pleasure through you, hips arching as you crave more. She lets out a low, pleased hum, leaning close as her mouth grazes your ear.

“You’ve been waiting for this all night, haven’t you?” she whispers, her voice dripping with mockery and satisfaction, every word laced with a condescending edge that leaves you trembling. One of your hands grips the leather seat beneath you, nails digging in as you brace yourself, as the other slips between your legs, pushing aside your panties in a bold, undeniable signal. Agnes’s gaze flickers with mischief, her lips curving in a smirk at your willingness, at the silent plea in your eyes.

“Look at you…” she murmurs in that low, almost scolding tone that makes you clench around nothing. “Such a needy pet.” Her fingers finally dip down to graze your drenched folds, now exposed to her touch. Her fingers glide up and down with ease, a deliberate slowness that leaves you panting, every movement igniting raw need within you.

“Mm, so wet for me.” she whispers to herself, pressing her fingers a little firmer, coaxing a soft moan from you. Your grip tightens on the seat as your breathing grows ragged, her touch leaving you helplessly craving more, every nerve under her control.

Her movements are teasingly, atrociously, slow. An impatient thrill rushes through you, impossible to ignore, and without a second thought you straddle her lap in one swift motion. As you settle onto her, your dress rides up around your hips, baring more skin as your legs fall on either side of hers, bracketing her firmly on the back seat. Agnes’s eyes widen in surprise, excitement unmistakable as her hands find your exposed thighs, fingers pressing into your skin as you begin to grind against her.

The angle presses her strap perfectly against your core, each movement sending a pulse of pleasure as you rock in her lap, the coil in your lower abdomen growing tighter and tighter with every roll of your hips. A low growl escapes her as she watches you take what you need, movements relentless and hungry.

Lost in the moment, you wrap your arms around her neck, pulling her into a kiss that’s messy, unrestrained, moans spilling shamelessly between your mouths. “Fuck… I need you.” you murmur, hips rolling harder in her lap, grinding with a desperate rhythm that has your heartbeat racing. You feel her cock press on your clit through her pants, and for a fleeting moment, you wonder if you might come just from this.

But Agnes has other plans.

Her hands slip from your waist, leaving you whining at the loss of contact as her fingers find the buckle of her belt. She undoes it with slow precision, followed by the button and zipper of her pants, her gaze locked with yours for the whole time, challenge flickering in her eyes as she smirks.

Her hand slips between your legs once more, sliding over your sensitive core, fingers teasing your hole as if to confirm just how ready you are for her. You bite your lip, completely unable to contain yourself. “Please.” you beg, voice low and trembling.

The smirk that crosses her face is dark, satisfied, as though she’s savoring every word, reveling in how desperate you are to have her inside of you. Desperation starts to kick in as your hand moves over hers, guiding her fingers between your folds, desperate for the friction she’s barely giving you. You grind against her hand, each movement sending sparks through your body as you cling to the delicious, aching need building inside you. Your breathing is ragged, and you can barely focus, until you catch sight of her other hand moving down to her waist.

With a fluid motion, Agnes reaches into her boxers, freeing her strap. The anticipation and the sheer intensity of the moment making your breath catch in your throat. As she draws it out, you take in every inch, noticing how it’s bigger than what Agatha would normally choose, yet not the biggest she’s ever ruined you with. But there’s something about the way she holds it, about the way it fills her hand, that has a rush of arousal pooling low in your stomach.

You swallow hard, desire flaring in your eyes as you let yourself imagine how it will feel inside of you, stretching you, abusing your needy hole. Agnes doesn’t miss your reaction, her smirk deepens, that predatory, knowing look in her eyes as she catches you staring. She shifts her hips, letting the strap press against your inner thigh, teasing you with what’s coming.

Her voice drops to a murmur, gravelly and low. “Think that pretty pussy of yours is ready to take it, doll?” she asks, tone both a tease and a command, daring you to say otherwise.

Without hesitation, you meet her gaze, biting your lip, eyes blazing with need. “Yes.” you whisper, breathless. “Fuck yes.”

A shiver runs through you as Agnes aligns herself, the tip of her cock pressing teasingly at your entrance, one of her hand resting firmly on your hip, grounding you. Slowly and deliberately, she begins to sink into you, stretching you inch by inch. A soft, breathy moan escapes you as the fullness sets in. Your fingers dig into her shoulders, clinging to her, every nerve ending lighting up with raw pleasure.

Agnes watches every reaction with a possessive gaze, clearly enjoying the way your body responds to her. She pauses, just for a second, letting you adjust. “Just like that. Mm, I wish I could feel that tight cunt wrapping around me. I bet it would feel so good.” she murmurs, voice thick with satisfaction.

And then, with an agonizing slowness, she presses further, filling you completely until there’s nowhere left to go and she’s buried deep inside. The feeling of fullness settles within you, every inch of her stretching you in a way that leaves you teetering on the edge of overwhelming pleasure. Your gaze drops instinctively to where your bodies connect, where her strap disappears into you, a sight that sends a deep, pulsing ache through your core.

But as you look down, your eyes catch on something else. The purple gemstone of your necklace, nestled against your skin, begins to glow, casting a soft, pulsing light in sync with the pounding rhythm of your heart. A slow smirk spreads across your lips, it’s almost time.

You teasingly wiggle your hips, signaling that you’re ready, craving the friction only she can provide. Agnes tightens her grip on your hips, nails digging into your skin. She meets your challenge, leaning forward just enough to capture your mouth in a deep, consuming kiss. In the heated clash of tongues and teeth, her hips begin to move, pulling back slowly before thrusting forward, filling you again.

Her pace is torturously unhurried, letting you feel every second, watching the way your face reflects each wave of pleasure. After a few measured thrusts, her hands slide down to grip your ass, fingers kneading your skin before delivering a sharp, satisfying spank that sends a shock of pleasure through you. A gasp slips from your lips but, before you know it, her hips have stilled and she’s watching you with a provocative glint in her eyes.

It dawns on you that she wants you to move, to put on a show just for her. You hesitate, breath catching, and her voice drops to a low, rough murmur as she smirks. “Come on doll, you gotta work for it. Let’s see how you bounce for me.”

Her words ignite a fresh wave of arousal and, taking a steadying breath, you start rolling your hips. You move slowly at first, savoring the stretch but it doesn’t take long before you start lifting and sinking your full weight down onto her, each movement drawing a low hum of approval from her lips.

Lost in the rhythm, you quicken your pace, each bounce bringing you down harder, making the base of the strap pressing firmly against her clit. Her hands guide you, watching you arch and take her deeper and deeper, her gaze full of admiration and raw desire.

The car fills with the wet, needy sounds of your arousal as she fills you completely. Your breaths turn to soft, broken moans, mingling with curses spilling from your lips. “F-fuck… Aggie…” you stammer, the familiar nickname slipping out before you can catch it. “Feels so… so good.” you murmur, half-lost in the haze, voice thick with need as you ride her harder, body pressing into her with abandon.

Agnes’s eyes flash, and for a split second, you wonder if she’s even noticed the slip or if she’s choosing to ignore it, letting it pass without breaking the intensity of the moment. Her grip tightens, voice dropping to a rough whisper that sends a shiver down your spine “Good girl… you’re taking me so well.” One of her hand slides up your back, nails scratching your skin and leaving red marks under your dress. “This is exactly what you were made for, isn’t it?”

Her words ignite something deep inside of you, urging you on as pleasure builds with each movement, your head tipping forward as you release a shameless moan. Your steady, rhythmic bouncing sends waves of pleasure radiating through you, each one stronger than the last, the friction inside you maddeningly perfect. You can feel your own wetness slickening each movement and dripping down your thighs, the glide of her strap effortless as she pushes deeper, unrelenting.

Agnes is utterly captivated, her gaze darting between the raw expressions of pleasure on your face and the sight of her strap disappearing into you. She drinks in every movement, every tremble, barely able to restrain herself.

As if sensing her focus, you open your eyes. You catch her gaze and stare right into her as you bite your lip, slowly and purposefully sinking down onto her cock, daring her. And that’s all she needs.

One hand wraps firmly around your throat, grip strong and commanding, while the other moves to your hip, pressing you down on her lap. For a moment, everything is suspended, you’re pinned under her gaze as the intensity of both the pressure at your throat and the deep ache within makes you shudder, caught between pleasure and anticipation.

Then, without warning, her hips snap up, driving into you with a devastating shove that forces every ounce of breath out of your lungs. She thrusts hard and deep, filling you completely, each movement unrelenting and precise, striking that spot that has you gasping and moaning uncontrollably.

Your hands clutch at her shoulders, desperate for some anchor as she pound into you without mercy, driving you relentlessly toward the edge. Your eyes flutter shut in overwhelming pleasure, but her grip tightens on your throat, pulling you back. “Eyes on me, pet.” she growls, voice low and commanding. “You begged me to ruin you. Now, look at me while I give you exactly what you asked for.”.

You force your eyes open, and the instant they lock onto hers, her pace quickens. The smirk on her face is a mix of dominance and admiration as she keeps pushing you further with every movement. The feeling is all-consuming and, as she continues, you feel yourself surrender completely, helpless under her control, barely holding on as pleasure engulfs you.

Her hips are snapping forward with an intensity bordering on devastating, her feet planted firmly on the car floor, adding force to each thrust. Her hand finds its way between your legs once more, fingers moving in practiced circles over your sensitive clit, coaxing you to the brink.

The purple stone around your neck pulses brighter as your orgasm builds, filling the car with an otherworldly glow that syncs with the rhythm of Agnes’s relentless movements.

“Mmm, I missed this… I missed you.” the confession slips out you in a raw whisper. For a second, Agnes’ expression falters, something flickering in her eyes that seems to recognize the truth. Before she can react, the light from the stone intensifies, flooding the space between you with a bright, shimmering glow. Her gaze drops to the gemstone blazing against your skin, entranced as though the light itself is unraveling something within her.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you seize the moment and murmur the spell.

Ancient Latin words leave your lips like a quiet chant, each syllable carrying the force of longing and magic, woven with the raw passion building between you. The words wrap around you both, charging the moment, and as the final word slips from your mouth, she gasps like someone just knocked all the air out of her lungs. Agnes’s eyes meet yours, and in that instant, you know the veil has been lifted.

Agnes is gone and Agatha, your Agatha, is back. The full force of who she is, and who you are to her, rushes back all at once. For a moment, Agatha simply stares at you, the love of her life who broke her from that maddening spell… on her lap, strap buried deep inside you. The sight renders her speechless, her expression a mix of wonder and fierce devotion as she processes what’s happened.

Finally, her voice returns, smug and rough yet laden with emotion. “So, this is your idea of a rescue mission? Can’t say I mind, sweetheart.” She leans in, breath ghosting over your lips as her fingers trace your cheek, gaze softening though hunger remains.

You suppress a moan as her hips shift involuntarily, pushing deeper, and she gasps, realizing the full impact of the spell being lifted. She can feel you now, all of you. Every slick, heated movement as she fills you, every pulse of pleasure passing through you both in sync. The raw feeling of you, tight and warm, clenching around her cock, sends sudden jolts of pleasure through her. The boundary between you dissolved completely.

“Fuck… I can feel you again.” she murmurs, voice thick with awe and desire. Her voice drops, thick with satisfaction and yearning. “I’ve waited too long for this, and now… now you’re all mine again.”

Her breath catches, and her hands tighten on your hips, guiding you as she thrusts up with renewed purpose, as if proving to herself that this moment is real, savoring every second of this reconnection. Her eyes glint with pleasure as her nails dig into your skin, pulling you down harder with each thrust, her control slipping as she begins to feel herself approaching her own edge.

A ragged growl escapes her as she whispers against your ear, “You’re still so damn tight, sweetheart. Do you know what you’re doing to me?” Her breath shudders, and a smile plays on her lips as she admits, “I’m already close too… After all this time, I don’t think I can hold back.”

The rhythm between you intensifies as her hands roam over your body, holding you close as she loses herself in the feeling of being truly connected again. You’re nothing short of a moaning mess as her voice guides you closer to the edge with her, whispered praise and promises mingling with the tension building in both of you, pushing you both to the brink.

Agatha is fucking you at an unforgiving rhythm, the intensity blurring everything else. Her gaze never leaves you, watching you come undone as you both reach the edge, every sensation building to a breathtaking crescendo.

Soon, her rhythm turns erratic, her restraint fully unraveled. Her eyes bore into yours, dark and fierce, filled with desire and something deeper—a yearning that transcends this moment alone.

“Mm fuck baby… yes, just like that…” she murmurs, breathless, almost reverent.

Your thighs start to shake, each movement pushing you closer, and you can barely form words as the pleasure tightens, an unbearable ache. “Ah fuck Agatha… d-don’t stop.” you gasp, voice trembling. “Fuck fuck fuck…” you stammer with each of her relentless thrusts until your voice breaks, overcome by waves of sensation crashing through you.

The car is filled by the sound of your low, breathy moans, mixing with Agatha’s rough, primal groans, all blending together as her hands slide up your back, possessive, grounding, bracing you for what’s to come.

You’re so close, and you know she is right there with you, her body tensing as she growls, “Come with me, now.” Her voice thick, dripping with desire, her words pushing you over the edge.

Your body arches instinctively as you shudder, every nerve aflame as waves of pleasure wash over you. Your head tips back, unable to hold back the cries escaping your lips. Your thighs twitch uncontrollably, your hips moving wildly on Agatha’s lap as your walls clench around her cock, releasing all that built-up tension in one of the most powerful orgasms you’ve ever experienced.

Agatha’s hips snap up one last time, her breath catching as she reaches her own release, her hands pressing you close as she gasps. “Mine… all mine…” her words, raw and filled with emotion, resonate through you, pulling you even deeper into the moment.

Your bodies tremble together, chests heaving, hearts racing as you slowly come down from your high. She holds you there, her hand sliding up to cradle your face, her eyes softer but still burning as she meets your gaze. For a long moment, neither of you speaks, savoring the afterglow, feeling completely and utterly entwined.

Slowly, she leans in, capturing your lips in a deep, lingering kiss, one that holds all the love and longing she’s felt, buried beneath the spell, and everything you’ve both been waiting to express. Her mouth moves over yours with fervor, a silent promise in every brush of her lips.

A tear rolls down your cheek as emotions overwhelm you, but Agatha notices, her thumb gently wiping it away as she smiles against your lips. Her expression is soft and filled with gratitude as she holds you close, her hands tracing over your skin as if trying to commit every inch of you to her memory.

“Thank you, my love.” she whispers, voice thick with feelings. Her hand cradles the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as she finally, reluctantly, begins to pull out. The sudden emptiness leaves you gasping softly, a shiver running through you at the loss, but before you can fully react you’re wrapping your arms around her, holding her close, grounding yourself in her warmth and presence.

Agatha’s hand slides down your back, comforting, reassuring. She presses a soft kiss to your temple, murmuring “It’s okay. I’m here now.” She pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, her features gentle yet fiercely protective. “Let’s go home.” she says, her tone pure tenderness “I won’t ever let anything take me away from you again, I promise.”.

She holds you close for one last intimate moment, while her words linger, solid and true. With a soft smile, she shifts and tucks away her strap before buttoning up her pants and fastening her belt, her eyes never leaving yours, filled with affection and satisfaction.

Once she’s ready she turns toward you, her hands moving to adjust your dress, her touch both careful and intimate as she smooths the fabric sliding it back into place around your waist and hips. Her hands linger, brushing along your sides in a way that makes your heart flutter.

Agatha opens the car door, stepping out first, leaning back to help you out of the car. She guides you with a steady hand as she opens the passenger door and, once you’re settled in the seat, she closes the door gently, making her way around the car and slipping into the driver’s seat beside you.

Agatha reaches over, her hand resting on your thigh as she leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. With a final squeeze of your thigh, she starts the car, guiding you both into the night. In the quiet space between you, there’s a shared understanding that this is the beginning of a new chapter, together, with nothing left to keep you apart.

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