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chuluoyi · 8 months

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UNHOLY MATRIMONY — 06

✩°｡ ⋆ a longer dream

- fushiguro megumi x oc/reader - oc/reader's character name is hara sena, pronouns still refer to “you” and i won’t mention it often—just for the sake of aesthetic rather than repeatedly writing "y/n"

in another life, in which fate is still screwing his life over, Fushiguro Megumi finds himself in an arranged marriage―with you.

genre/warnings: arranged marriage au, mild angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, descriptions of aggressive behavior (hair pulling, hand stomping—but not to the reader)

notes: an early release! please believe me when i said that i really wanted to add megumi's reaction in the previous chapter. i cut it because it got too long already.

oh and with this i’m announcing that unholy matrimony will be on break next week to ensure the best experience :( chapter 7 will be posted on november 6, i promise.

listen to: i will stay with you - gummy :)

✩°｡ ⋆ unholy matrimony (masterlist) | chapter five : sinner's punishment <- previous ✩ next -> chapter seven : love unspoken

This can’t be right.

Megumi must have heard wrong.

It was barely seven in the morning, he had just woken up, and the first thing he heard was... you were asking for a what? Divorce?

"What, why?" he immediately snapped.

You kept your head low. "Because there's no reason for us to be together anymore. This whole thing―" you gestured to everything around you as you tried to contain your emotions, "―started just because I have no choice but to obey my father so that he wouldn’t take my mom as a hostage."

Honestly, Megumi didn't understand. Maybe his brain was lagging because it was meant to be a tranquil Sunday morning. But he couldn't make the heads or tails of whatever you were spouting now.

"Now that my mom is no longer in the picture," you continued, your voice steady and your eyes devoid of doubt. "He has no other means to control me. He can't have his way with me anymore."

"Hold on—" He was exasperated. Nothing's making sense. "This doesn't necessarily lead to divorce. Sena, what are you thinking?"

“I’m setting us free, Megumi,” you interjected, fixing a fierce gaze on him. “Neither of us wanted this in the first place. And now we can do it. Zen’in must have a better bride in mind for you, or you could also ditch them altogether. We can go our separate ways.”

How had it escalated into this? Weren’t the two of you just spent the night? How did you spew all of these so callously?

Megumi clenched his jaw. “No.”

"Why?!" Now it was your turn to express frustration. Honestly, you really thought he would agree. You had offered him his freedom on a silver platter—so why didn't he take it?

“You are not in the right state of mind,” he asserted, his gaze fixed at you squarely. “You haven’t thought this through. You can't make decisions solely based on your impulses, Sena.”

“I have thought this through, Megumi!”

“Clearly, you haven’t,” he retorted firmly. “If that’s the case, then tell me, should we get a divorce, what would you do?”

You fell into silence, unable to give an immediate response. “It’s—I will—”

“See?” he let out a scoff. “Is your life with me so unbearable that you’re considering a divorce?”

Your brain short-circuited, evidently and truthfully you didn’t think that far ahead. Your primary focus was to alleviate the guilt in your gut, and you believed that returning to where it all began would be better for both of you, especially him.

But was your life with him that miserable? “No.” You stiffened, biting your lower lip. You didn’t want him to think like that. Living with Megumi was far from horrible at all; in fact, it was quite the opposite.

“Then what brought this on?” he inquired once again. His tone remained calm, but it was clear that he was holding his simmering anger back. “We are perfectly fine. So what’s the deal? Give me a straightforward explanation and I’ll agree with you only if you can explain what you will do from then on.”

Why must he do this? Why did he have to be against it so much? It took everything out of you to keep your resolve from breaking.

Your heart couldn't help but soar when he opposed your idea of getting a divorce. You found yourself hoping for something more, with him.

“We are… not fine.” You ran out of arguments to convince him, as the thought of staying suddenly made more sense, against your better judgment. “I… you—you didn’t want to be married to me—”

“But now I do!” His voice rang through the apartment, leaving you momentarily speechless, trying to absorb his words.

Megumi was at his wits end. As surprising as it may seem, he had developed feelings for you, and perhaps now, those feelings had intensified into something more intense. He had these passing thoughts about how to express his feelings, and certainly this wasn't the scenario he had in mind. However, now that things had escalated to this point, he must get this across somehow.

“I know you’re having a hard time. Losing your mother isn’t something you can get over so easily—I get it. I understand that, Sena.”

Tears welled up in your eyes.

“But I promise you,” his unwavering gaze held you captive. “You are going to be fine. We are going to be fine. Forget how we started—we have made it this far regardless of that.”

Staying with you meant he would remain embroiled in the Zen'in's successor struggle, a reality he was fully aware of. But the idea of you leaving was simply inconceivable in his mind.

Now you were openly sobbing. You were happy. You knew it was still wrong, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him the whole truth—the binding vow with Gojo. You just can’t.

You had never hoped so bad for a wrong to become right before now.

"You have me," he declared, and Megumi's hand reached for your damp cheek, cradling it gently. When your teary eyes met his, he fondly caressed your cheek.

“I will stay with you.”

That was the breaking point. You lost the hold over your emotions. If you didn't know anything else, one thing was abundantly clear—you had lived for this very moment.

And when Fushiguro Megumi pulled you into a searing kiss, you knew that life as you had known it had come to an end.

Because from now on, through endless maze, fear and loneliness, you placed your trust in him to be by your side.

"Tsk."

Naoya clicked his tongue at the first hearing held at his own Zen'in estate. Most of the elders had gathered in the main hall, with him sitting at the front row. The next seat next to him was empty.

"Can't we just start?" he spat impatiently, glaring particularly at his uncle, Zen'in Ogi—the father of the Maki and Mai—who was the head of the council to determine the next successor of Zen'in clan.

His uncle simply regarded him with a stoic expression. "We'll commence when Fushiguro arrives here."

To be frank, Zen'in Ogi harbored a strong dislike for Naoya. Not only was this young upstart trying to seize the position of the clan head that could be his by the order of seniority, he was incredibly disrespectful too. Given the choice—which he had, anyway—he still preferred Fushiguro even though he was an outsider rather than this manic twat.

"If the bastard doesn't come then it's his loss," Naoya hissed through his teeth. "Why should we wait for him? What a waste of time."

An attendant suddenly went into the room to inform that Fushiguro Megumi couldn't attend as he had prior engagements. Naoya sneered upon hearing that. "See? Even he doesn't take this the least bit seriously."

Zen'in Ogi vowed to wipe that smirk off his face, even if it was the last thing he did. To him, Naoya's behavior and lack of decorum during his brother's funeral was a blatant insult to their proud clan, and there was no way he would let him rule at the top, even though he was his brother's own flesh and blood.

Hence why he took great delight in seeing the shock on his face when he announced that the majority of the votes had gone in favor of Fushiguro instead of him.

"This isn't the final decision, of course," he remarked, casting a glance at Naoya's seething anger. "We will hold two more hearings, and by then, you can still cast your vote for the candidates you favor."

What the actual fuck—

"I advise you to get your act together, Naoya," Ogi whispered to him as the crowd dispersed. "You're hardly demonstrating why we should choose you with your rather... ah, unbecoming behavior."

Naoya clenched both his jaw and fists as his uncle walked past him. The nerve of that rotting bastard!

No one seemed to respect him any longer in this place. It seemed like everyone had started to think he could be overthrown from his rightful place.

So be it then. He just had to make it clear that he was the one in charge.

And when he spotted one of the serving girls, whom he had observed had been following several elders, and even himself, for several days now, Naoya finally had enough and pursued her as she hastened her steps.

But he was naturally faster and grabbed her hair in an attempt to catch her, causing her to yelp.

“Master Naoya!” she cried. “P-Please let me go—!”

“Shut up, you wretch!” he snapped at her with such fury that the girl could only tremble in shock. He then forcibly dragged her by the hair toward the disciplinary pit, paying no heed to her cries and pleas for him to stop.

He flung her across the hard tiles, and the girl curled up in fear. "P-Please... spare me..." she pleaded, her voice trembling with terror.

With an air of dominance, Naoya gazed down at her, and then he ruthlessly stomped on her hand, causing her to scream in agony.

“S-Stop! It hurts!” she sobbed. “P-Please!”

He crouched down, still keeping her hand pinned beneath his shoe.

“I’m acting o-on orders!” she shouted amidst the tears. “M-My mistress is the one w-who told me to come h-here!”

Naoya's lips curled into a sneer as he released his grip on her and then firmly grasped the young girl's chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“Now, you fool, tell me everything.”

It was monumentally stupid. Megumi knew it, but couldn’t help but let his face burn in embarrassment regardless.

“Megumi.” You tilted your head to the side, eyes looking at him so innocently, yet hesitantly. “You want us to… uh, share one bedroom?”

The way you pronounced the word “share” was enough to drive him on edge. He knew it. You didn’t want it, but he wanted this, and yet he didn’t want to force you into it.

These three statements that negated each other made him want to crawl back to his room.

But as the saying goes, sometimes you have to fake it until you make it, right?

“Yeah, is there a problem with that?” And so faking his confidence it is.

“T-There is!” you hastily retaliated. “This is too sudden!”

“And what about it? Your bed is big enough for both of us. If not, then the one in my room it is.”

“But!” This inquiry was beyond you. Not that you were totally opposed, but this prompt change of situation left you reeling.

Okay, let us get it straight.

Confessing feelings to each other? Well, yeah, in practice, yes.

Marital status? Still wife and husband. Check.

And so, this was the cue for moving in together next, yes?

At least in the romance novels you read, yes. But quite literally, ever since Megumi’s dramatic declaration—that made you swoon amidst everything else, yes—the two of you found yourselves stuck in an awkward situation once again. He failed to look at you in the eye for two days straight after that, and now out of nowhere, asked you to share a room with him.

“Are you sure?” you asked, idly twirling a strand of your hair with your fingers.

“I am,” he replied instantly. "What's the issue here? We're married. We should have done this right from the start."

“Wouldn’t want you to burst from sheer embarrassment is all,” you quipped, successfully making him fidget. A smile tugged at your lips at his reaction.

"You could hardly even look at me," you added teasingly, and it seemed a vein on his face was on the verge of bursting.

“And you—”

You didn't have the opportunity to add more anecdotes to the list because suddenly your right arm was pulled, and before you could react, you found yourself cornered against the sofa.

"Well," Megumi's face was now inches from yours, his voice slow and laden with an indescribable intensity. His green eyes blinked, and suddenly, you found it hard to breathe. "Now, I'm looking at you, aren't I?"

What… is this situation? You could no longer think, and the only sound you heard was your uncontrollable heartbeats.

Even Megumi himself couldn’t keep the blush from creeping up on his face as he kept his hot gaze on you. When his cheeks began to feel as if they were sizzling and burning, much like the barbecue he had with Yuji the other night, he finally withdrew, moving away slowly. You took a deep breath and exhaled forcefully, your heart still racing.

"Stupid, don't look so scared," he grumbled before tousling the top of your head, causing you to wince.

Now he had truly done it, hadn't he? He had made it glaringly obvious just how hopelessly infatuated he was, or at least he hoped he had conveyed it to you.

“I’m not scared…” You looked away shyly. “Megumi, you idiot.”

“Why am I the idiot? You’re the one being so clueless.”

In his eyes, you appeared so petite and vulnerable. The way you puckered your lips made him want to pin you to the wall.

It was unlike anything he had felt before. This urge to protect, make you happy, and ruin you at the same time was just too much.

But in the end, the first two always won.

"Okay, forget about it," he said afterwards, prompting you to look up. "We don't have to share a room if you're that uncomfortable about it."

“Uh, but—” now you were the one stammering. “No, it’s—okay…”

He raised an eyebrow, not understanding what you meant, so you took a gulp of breath, suppressing your embarrassment.

“Let’s sleep together from now on,” you declared. “In the same room, okay? I’m okay with it…”

“Really, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

A reminiscent of what he told you just two days ago. You couldn't forget how those three simple words made you feel, as if you were granted a fresh opportunity at life, despite the hardships you'd endured.

In the ensuing five seconds, you locked eyes and then erupted into a chorus of laughter.

“It’s so stupid, why is it so hard?” you sighed, smiling all the way. “We can’t be stuck at this stage forever.”

Megumi looked at your smile and, once again, tenderly placed his hand on your head.

“Yeah, we probably shouldn’t,” he muttered. “But even this is enough for me though.”

“What is?”

A gentle, weightless sensation filled his chest, a welcome relief after enduring two weeks of shared suffering. Seeing you no longer as tormented fueled his desire to to sustain that newfound happy expression on your face.

“Your smile,” he replied simply. “Just keep smiling. That’s all that matters.”

You swore you felt your heart leap out of your chest at his genuine words. But, damn you, you concealed your emotions the only way you knew how.

“Okay, so now you can’t deny it any longer,” you huffed in a playful condescending manner. “You’re positively smitten by me, correct, dear husband?”

A sheepish snort escaped from him. “Yeah, yeah, wife. I’m all yours.”

Megumi was eager to walk down this road with you from now on. It wouldn't be without its challenges, as there were still many things for you to tackle. Your mother’s murderer, Tsumiki’s curse, Zen’in’s mess. Through it all, he had you in his thoughts. And as for you...

You were content if this dream would last just a little bit longer.

✩°｡ ⋆ next -> chapter seven : love unspoken

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messrmoonyy · 1 year

Note

You are nearly single handedly carrying the Tess x reader portion of this website and I thank you so dearly for that and I love all of your stuff

Listen I know it’s the apocalypse and all that they are dealing with, but would you be comfortable doing a Tess fic where she has a strap? Tess and Joel are smugglers so it’s POSSIBLE she could get one…. Right? Right. I’m just going to live in my bubble where it’s possible….

The calm within the storm

Tess Servopoulos x fem!reader

A/n- oh my dear sweet anon. Firstly, thank you for reading and requesting! Secondly. Lord. Have a been waiting for someone to fucking request this I have been waITING. I didn’t intend to post this today but. I just- no words. Feral. I was fucking feral writing this. I need this woman. Rn. Immediately. I was going to post at the end of the week and it wasn’t gonna be this but I just have to get this out there so. Here it is. Also. I think this could technically be a slightly younger Tess cause I kinda made her a lil bit soft

Warnings- 18+ || Tess. It’s basically just pure filth tbfh. Plot? What’s a plot. Smut: use of toys, fake p in v ( reader receiving ) , fingering ( reader receiving), tess being the god of praise as she always is, use of the term ‘ good girl ‘, light Dom/sub roles, Tess refers to the toy as hers if you get my drift 👀💀, reader low-key in a subspace, crying, overstimulation if you squint,

Word count- 5.2k of filth

Masterlist - Tess requests open

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated

Rain was hammering against the window panes, so hard you almost worried that the glass might break. The entire QZ was practically on lockdown, a severe storm warning meaning that everyone was being told to stay indoors. The only people really out on the streets below were FEDRA officers, if you focused hard enough you could occasionally see a black speck moving on the street below through the blur of the rain.

You and Tess had debated attempting to head out anyway, but with no one around to blend in with it made things harder. And the officers were clearly pissed about standing out in a storm all day, they’d be far too trigger happy.

So you were stuck inside. Which wasn’t particularly a bad thing, you loved being alone with Tess. But sitting with so much stuff in your stash and unable to go and sell it was enough to put you both a little on edge.

Joel didn’t seem fazed at all. In fact he’d told you both to leave him alone and you knew he’d just be spending the entire time blackout drunk. Or so off his head on pills that he probably didn’t even know what day it was. Which was starting to look like a decent idea for yourself too.

But Tess seemingly had other ideas.

“ I’m so fucking bored “ you sighed, following a drop of rain as it ran down the glass. Tess appeared behind you, arms looping around your waist and chin propped on your shoulder. You leant back into her embrace with another sigh “ I might go piss off Joel just for something to do “ Tess scoffed and pressed her face against your neck, nuzzling her nose at the underside of your jaw.

“ I have a better idea to keep you entertained “ she whispered, pressing a soft trail of kisses across your neck.

“ you’ve got a one track mind “ you felt her smile against your skin and tighten her grip around you, tilting your head a little so she had more access to your neck.

“ you say it like it’s a bad thing “

“ Hm never said that “ her hand slipped under your shirt making you shiver as her cold fingers trailed their way upwards “ cold hands “ she smiled again and stopped her assault on your neck for a moment.

“ I have a surprise for you “ you turned in her embrace, folding your arms across your chest.

“ I hate surprises “ you stated. Because you did. And she knew you did.

“ you’ll like this one. Go sit down. On the bed “ your brow furrowed in mild annoyance but then you sighed, deciding to indulge her. Last time she’d told you she had a surprise for you it had been a crappy T-shirt, one of the cheesy joke kind. A frog printed on the front with the words ‘ okey- Croakey! ‘ above its head. You’d lost against her in a game of cards and she’d forced you to wear it for the whole day.

She’d found the entire thing hilarious. As did Joel. You? Not so much.

You sat down and watched as she rummaged around in her backpack by the door.

“ what are you doing? This better not be another fuckin frog shirt “ she pulled something in a little black bag from her backpack with a proud look on her face, turning to you with a slightly mischievous look in her eye “ what? “

“ unfortunately it’s not a frog shirt- which I have noticed has mysteriously vanished by the way “ your brow furrowed again, confusion painting across your features as she rose to her feet and made her way over to you. She sat down next to you and you waited with a raised brow as she pulled at the drawstring “ now don’t freak out. I know what you’re like “

You thought of a few variations of what could possibly be in the bag. But the actual answer wasn’t even close. Not even remotely.

You couldn’t help the laugh that left you. Some mixture of shock, confusion and intrigue mingling into a slightly manic sound.

Only Tess would smuggle a fucking strap on back into the QZ.

“ what the fuck Tess “ she was smiling like the cat that got the cream. Thoroughly proud of herself for finding it and managing to get it back home without you finding it.

“ I want to fuck you with it “ there she was, always one for being direct.

“ where did you even fuckin find this?“

“ last time we were in Lincoln. Turns out that house we stay in? Two Women owned it. Must be something in the fucking water in that town “ you laughed again at that, still completely baffled by the entire situation “ whole drawer full of shit. This looked the most interesting though, you ever use one?”

“ I’m gonna let you answer that for yourself “ your eyes glanced up at her face for a moment “ have you? “

“ once or twice “ you looked at the mildly offensive looking thing in her hands, curiously eyeing the size of it and mentally trying to guess if it would hurt. The most you’d ever taken was Tess’ fingers and two of them was usually a sufficient amount, 3 if she was feeling particularly cruel. It was a pastel purple which was quite the relief really. It didn’t look real. Less scary than it probably was.

“ Tess I don’t know if I can fit- Jesus Christ “

“ I’ll get you ready… if you don’t want to we don’t have to. It was just an idea “ you didn’t want to disappoint her and you knew she’d never even dare to pressure you into something. You tried to think about it, knowing she wouldn’t let it hurt you. She’d never hurt you. And if you thought about it, this was truly as close as you could ever possibly get to her, your bodies completely connected.

It made your cheeks burn again.

“ it won’t hurt? “ she shook her head, scooching a little closer to you and tucking her fingers under your chin, turning you to look at her.

“ okay well. Maybe a tiny bit just at first. But then it’ll be good. I’ll get you ready. I promise. You think I’d ever do anything to hurt you? “

“ no “ you said immediately, there was nothing in this world you were more certain of. She’d never hurt you.

“ then… what do you say? Wanna try? “ the idea was growing on you you couldn’t lie. You weren’t exactly a stranger to letting Tess have complete and utter control of you, and this seemed like the ultimate surrender to her power. To have her in you. Filling you. Reaching parts of you she’d never been able to before.

You shuffled slightly trying to ignore the uncomfortable damp feeling between your legs.

“ so you’re gonna- you wear it? “

“ mhm “

“ will you feel good too? “ you know she wasn’t really one for being touched. Always the one doing the touching rather than letting you touch her. She’d always been the same. But you were curious.

“ you know I get off on making you feel good “ her voice had taken on that low and sultry tone that went straight to your core and you let out a shaky breath “ but I’ll feel a little something. Some friction you know? But don’t worry about me. This is for you “ she brushed your hair away from your shoulder, her lips returning to their earlier assault.

Your clit felt like it had its own fucking heartbeat, throbbing at the thought of your girlfriend nailing you into the mattress like that.

“ fuck okay “ it came out a little more breathy than you had intended, and she seemed throughly pleased with herself. She smiled again, teeth nipping lightly at your skin in a way that made your breath quicken.

“ just think how fuckin pretty you’re gonna look “ she whispered in your ear, one hand sliding over your thigh and squeezing softly “ gonna look so good taking my cock aren’t you baby? “ her hand slipped past the waistband of your leggings, smirking when she pressed against the soaked patch of your underwear.

“ Jesus Christ Tess “

“ I’ve barely even touched you and look at you “ your hand flew to grab at her wrist as she pushed a finger between your drenched folds, already wound ridiculously tight. Already sensitive. And it was almost embarrassing. Because she had barely touched you, and there you were soaking through your panties.

She used her spare hand to cup your face, bringing you in to kiss her in a way that seemed far too tender for her. That felt too innocent compared to the way her finger was slowly circling your clit.

She pushed lightly at your shoulder and you took the hint, shuffling up the bed and letting her lay you back. Her lips didn’t leave yours once, quite the opposite. They became a little more forceful, hungry. Your entire body felt like it was burning up, nervous energy buzzing through every single nerve ending. Every single place that her body was touching yours was ablaze, electric. Alive.

She pulled herself away and smiled as you tried to chase after her lips, drunk on the taste of her. Your hand reaching out for her neck, attempting to pull her back down but she simply took your hand in hers. She pressed a kiss to your knuckles and then placed it back down.

“ patience baby. I need to get you ready okay?” You nodded, ready to do whatever she asked of you with a split second of notice. She sat back and made quick work of ridding you of your leggings and underwear, then your shirt, leaving you completely exposed under her gaze.

In the past you had felt almost scrutinised under your lovers gaze. But never with Tess. It was impossible to feel even remotely self conscious when she was looking at you like that. Like she was going to absolutely devour you any second. Like no other woman existed on the face of the earth.

She seemed almost desperate to touch you as her head found itself between the valley of your breasts, kissing at every inch of skin she could see.

She was working you up, getting you as relaxed as she possibly could. And you were more than willing to let her, sighing in bliss as her hands and lips wandered. You felt like putty in her hands, soft and malleable to whatever she wanted to do you. Sucking and licking, teeth grazing and nipping as her hand continued it’s way downwards.

You couldn’t help squirming around under her touch and she held a hand to your hip in some attempt to keep you in place, pushing you back down as you pushed your hips up against her thigh in some attempt to get a little friction.

“ Tess- “

“ patience “ she said again with a kiss to your cheek, you huffed in annoyance and she tutted and shook her head “ so fuckin impatient today “ but she clearly wasn’t in much of a mood to keep you waiting really.

She slipped two fingers into you embarrassingly easy, in no mood to take it slow with you. Desperate to have you ready for the toy sitting at the foot of the bed still. She set a steady pace, the sopping sound making your cheeks flush bright red. It was embarrassing how wet you got for her, and how fast.

“ that’s it, need you nice and wet for me “ you pushed yourself against the heel of her hand, searching for some pressure on your throbbing clit. And she let you for a few moments, her teeth nipping at the skin of your neck now, leaving a trail of bruises blossoming in her wake.

You attempted to keep your moans to yourself, failing as usual, as she gently began scissoring her fingers inside you. She watched your face intently as she did, checking that everything she was doing was okay. She was always the same. No matter how bossy or controlling she could be in bed, she never actually wanted to do anything you didn’t like. Your pleasure was always the most important thing to her.

“ don’t you dare come “ she said lowly, noticing the way you’d increased the speed you were grinding your hips up into her hand “ don’t you fucking dare “ it was near impossible not to when her hands were working pure magic between your legs. Your chest heaved in heavy breaths in some hope it would stave your orgasm off.

But Tess knew your body too well. Knew what every single reaction and sound meant, probably better than you did yourself if you were honest. So she knew your tricks and she didn’t want you coming yet. So she simply removed her fingers.

You felt too empty as she withdrew her fingers but before you could begin to complain she was coaxing them into your mouth. She watched you in awe as you sucked on her fingers, your mouth flooding with your own taste.

“ that’s it. Good girl “ she swatted at your thigh lightly with her other hand when she spotted you attempting to rub your thighs together for some relief, giving you a look of mock disappointment “ what did I just say? Do as you’re told “ when she deemed her fingers clean enough she got up from the bed, picking up the toy. You felt too embarrassed to watch her, instead focussing on the ceiling and hoping your cheeks weren’t too red.

You mentally tried to prepare for the sight. The feeling. The intrusion. But found that yes, you were a little scared still, but also incredibly excited.

You felt the bed dip as Tess climbed back on the bed, her warm hands gently pushing your legs apart as she sat herself between them. You chanced a look at her, propping yourself up on your elbows.

It looked a little less intimidating on Tess than it did when she’d first showed it to you. It almost made you laugh at how you’d been scared, but now you were unbelievably curious over anything else. And embarrassed. Incredibly fucking embarrassed.

Which was silly. It was Tess. Just Tess.

You dropped back onto the mattress and covered your face with your hands, an embarrassed groan muffled by your palms. Tess chuckled and you felt her lean down over you, pulling one of your hands away gently

“ y/n “ she was smiling at you as she peeled your other hand away “ Embarrassed? “ she said with a slight teasing tone to her words and you turned your head away, attempting to hide your face in the pillow “ hey hey. No. Eyes on me, look at me “

“ it’s embarrassing “ you said with a little laugh and she rolled her eyes, smile tugging at her lips.

“ I’ve fucked you plenty of times before”

“ not like this “ she brushed your hair away from your face and her eyes scanned over your features.

“ we don’t have to do- “

“ no. No I want to. Jesus do I want to “ you said maybe a little too fast, a little too desperate.

“ okay then. You ready baby? “ it was mildly pathetic how scared you actually were all of a sudden. It was Tess. Your Tess. You had nothing to be worried about “ baby? “

“ yeah “ you breathed out “ yeah. Yeah I’m ready “ you watched her as she licked the palm of her hand before she reached down between you, watching her fingers wrap around the toy. Your cheeks were on fire again, it was practically indecent the way your stomach fluttered at the sight. You craned your neck to watch, gasping as you felt the cool silicone brushing between your folds.

“ hey, eyes up here. Look at me “ your eyes snapped up to meet hers, relaxing a little immediately “ that’s it. Keep looking at me okay? “ you gave a small nod, trying to keep your breathing steady. It hitched in your throat as she brushed the toy lightly over your already sensitive clit “ breathe. If you need to stop you tell me okay? “

“ yes “ you whispered, arousal and desire beginning to cloud your thoughts.

She sat back up, pulling you closer by your hips.

“ spread your legs for me, that’s it keep them there “ she soothed her hands over your thighs for a moment, smirking at the sight of the remaining bruises left there from the other day.

She was incredibly possessive. Always had been. She loved nothing more than littering your skin with marks from her teeth or her fingers. You were hers. No one else’s.

You heart was hammering in your chest as she returned to her teasing, dragging the purple silicone up and down your cunt. It sent a shiver down your spine every time she caught your clit and it only made her smirk. You even found yourself bucking your hips up for more after a minute or so, unashamedly desperate for her to just give you something. Anything.

“ where’s this enthusiasm come from?” She teased and you could do nothing but squirm under her gaze, a pathetic whimper of a sound leaving your throat. It just made her smug look grow even more “ do you want it? “

“ yes “ she had this ridiculous skill of getting you wound up like that, to the point where you felt like an animal in heat. Desperate for whatever relief she would honour you with “ please Tess”

When she deemed the tip wet enough she positioned it at your entrance

“ it might hurt a tiny bit. Breathe through it, relax “ you nodded and she kept her eyes right on yours as she gently pushed into you, eyes scanning your own to look for any sign you no longer wanted it. Your own eyes squeezed shut at the feeling of the unfamiliar intrusion “ that’s it. Good girl you got it “ She entered you ridiculously slowly, allowing only the tip to push past the restriction of your entrance.

She took her time. Easing into you inch by inch, one hand on your hip to keep you in place. Her eyes fluttered between your face and your cunt, wanting to make sure you were okay but clearly also mesmerised at the sight of the toy slowing vanishing inside of you.

She held it there for a few moments, waiting for you to give her the go ahead to keep moving and letting you adjust to the unfamiliar girth inside of you.

“ Jesus fucking Christ “ you breathed out, trying to get used to the odd sensation and the slight burn at your entrance as you attempted to stretch to the size.

“ you okay? “ you nodded your head rapidly, eyes still clenched shut. It was almost overwhelming, how unbelievably full you felt. How deep she seemed to be inside you “ do you need me to stop?” Her hand cupped your face gently and she rubbed soft circles into your skin, coaxing you to open your eyes “ baby you need to talk to me “

“ no no it’s just- it’s a lot. Let me just- “ you took another deep breathe, unable to stop your squirming as your walls clamped down around the thickness of the toy “ okay. Okay I’m good “

She pulled almost completely out, pushing back in until the toy filled you completely again. She remained at a slow pace at first, hands holding your hips firmly as your back arched off the mattress.

“ fuck “ she said under her breath, looking down at you like you were the most incredible thing she’d ever laid her eyes on “ you know how pretty you look right now? “ you’d already slipped past the point of forming coherent sentences, your brain filled with nothing but how unbelievably full you felt. How with every thrust she made it seemed to hit a part so deep inside you, that you hadn’t even been entirely aware even existed.

You needed more. So much more.

“ can you- faster. Tess. Please I just- more “ your broken attempt at a sentence seemed to make some sense to her, her hands sliding over your legs again and settling back on your hips.

She picked up the pace, settling herself into a rhythm that had your breasts bouncing, a string of embarrassingly vulgar sounds leaving your throat. The room was filled with the sounds of you. Your moans. The ridiculously wet sound coming from between your legs. And Tess’ own heavy breaths.

It felt filthy. But in the greatest way.

“ look at you “ she she said with more joy on her face than you’d ever seen, smiling down at you as your hands twisted into the bed sheets and you attempted to muffle your moans in your pillow “ look so fucking good taking my cock don’t you? Huh? “

“ Tess “ you whined her name at the poor indecency of her words, ears ringing as you tried to focus on staving off your orgasm as long as possible. But it was near impossible. All you could think about was the bruising sensation of the toy pressing hard against your cervix with every single thrust she offered you.

“ doing so well “ she praised “ taking me so well “ you were chasing your orgasm now, knowing you wouldn’t actually get it until she said you could. But you were going to try either way.

You moved one hand down your body, circling the sensitive nub of your clit in a desperate attempt to get off.

“ I don’t remember saying you could touch yourself “ you held her eye contact in some way of being defiant, rubbing yourself faster even if just to prove a point “ are you that desperate?” She grabbed at your hand and you gasped as she moved back over you, pinning your hands down above your head “ I asked you a question “

“ please Tess “ you whimpered, wishing she could feel the way your cunt fluttered around the toy that was still buried inside you. She shifted her hips to press even further into you in a way that was almost painful, a squeak of a sound escaping you.

“ I thought you were being good “ your hands twisted in her grasp but she had always been stronger than you.

“ i- I am. I just need- please I need- “ Her eyes scanned your face for a few moments before seemingly deciding on something.

“ I got you “ she slipped out of you so suddenly it made you whimper at the loss “ be patient “ she smirked, kissing you in a way that took your breath away again. She pulled away far too quickly, making you chase after her lips again as she moved away. Which only made her laugh. You watched her carefully as she positioned herself sitting back against the headboard, beckoning you towards her with her fingers “ come here “

You didn’t need telling twice.

You were up and straddling her lap in a second, gasping when your sensitive cunt brushed against the now warm length of the toy.

“ you’re gonna be a good girl and ride me “ she instructed. And it was enough for another pathetic whine of a noise to leave your lips “ okay? “ you nodded, already reaching between you and wrapping your fingers around the now sticky silicone “ someone’s eager “ you nodded, brain too foggy to form a coherent thought never mind form a sentence “ Tell me “ she said, hands gripping tightly at your waist to stop you before you could go any further.

It was mean. To make you talk. To make you attempt to speak when your brain was absolutely frazzled, filled with nothing but a desperate aching need to be filled by her again.

“ Tess “ you whimpered in some hope she’d just feel sorry for you and not make you talk. Of course you weren’t going to get off that easy.

“ do as you’re fuckin told “ she nudged her fingers under your chin, an eyebrow raised “ come on. You can do it. Use your words “ she dragged her thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down and watching it snap back into place again with a smirk “ tell me how much you want it “

“ so bad “ you whispered, eyes closing and cheeks flushing with heat “ need you so bad Tess “ you didn’t need to look at her to know she had that stupid smug smirk plastered across her face, enjoying it far too much.

“ need what? “

“ fuck Tess “ you dropped your head to her shoulder and tried to clear the embarrassment and fog clouding your thoughts “ I can’t I- “

“ yes you can “ she cooed, a hand brushing over your hair “ one little thing and then you can fuck yourself on my cock again. Isn’t that what you want? “ you nodded weakly “ then be a good girl and tell me what you need “

“ need you to fuck me “ you whimpered into her neck “ please I need it so bad “ usually she’d had made you say it again. Say it louder. Repeat it until you were practically begging for your life for it.

“ good girl that wasn’t so hard was it? “ you took that as your go ahead, lifting yourself before sinking slowly back down with an almost dreamy sigh.

There was less restriction the second time around, the deliciousness of the stretch still there but the uncomfortable burn no longer present. You sank down until she completely filled you again and you were seated flush against her thighs.

The way Tess was watching you was enough to make you come on the spot. No one had ever looked at you like that. Like you were some mythical creature, a goddess walking amongst mortals. It spurred you on to put on a show for her.

“ and don’t you fucking come until I tell you “ she said with a warning squeeze to the flesh of your hips.

You anchored yourself with your hands on her shoulders, rising up again and setting yourself into a steady rhythm. It felt filthy. Entirely too erotic for you to even comprehend, the sweat making your skin slick as your thighs pressed against hers, sounds reminiscent of a fucking pornstar escaping your lips.

Her fingers were pressing harshly into your skin, guiding you up and down on the phallic shape between her legs, you knew you’d bruise tomorrow but you didn’t even care. You wanted her to bruise you. To mark you. You needed a lasting reminder of the moment, needed to be able to glance down at the purples and blues on your skin and feel the ache in your cunt.

You felt primal, completely and utterly consumed by the woman beneath you. the short and quick breaths leaving her everytime you dropped down, the harness clearly brushing wonderfully against her everytime, were like music to your ears.

“ you look so fuckin pretty like this “ she said for what felt like the millionth time, but you’d never get bored of it. She was a little breathless, her eyes not looking away from you for even a second “ you’re so fuckin good for me arent you baby? My good girl huh? “

“ yes “ you whined, rolling your hips in some attempt to rest your legs as your thighs began to burn with the effort. Her hands shifted to grab at the globes of your ass, urging you to slow down a little and go at the pace she wanted.

“ that’s it baby, like that. Just like that “ the all too familiar pressure in your belly was beginning to grow stronger by the second and you knew you didn’t have much left in you. Tess knew you far too well and even though she couldn’t feel the way you were squeezing around the toy, she clearly saw it in your face “ you want to come? “ you nodded your head, head falling back and eyes closing as she kept guiding your hips.

“ yeah. Yeah. I’m almost there but- I don’t think“ she gave a small nod, understanding and shifted herself under you a little so she had some leverage.

“ I got you. Don’t worry “ you gasped, the air leaving your lungs completely as she thrust up into you. The feeling all the more intense than the previous position, hitting a new spot inside of you that made you see stars.

“ fuck Tess “ you whined, eyes squeezing shut and head dropping to her shoulder. Her hand slipped between you, a squeal escaping your throat as she began circling your clit with her fingers.

“ you wanna come for me? Hmm? Gonna come all over my cock, huh? “ you couldn’t form words, desperate pathetic whines the only thing that would pass your lips. Her thrusts were so deep, so hard. It made your vision blur, tears stinging at the corner of your eyes “ look at me. Baby I need you to look at me “ you reluctantly lifted your head, your neck feeling as though it were made of lead. Your forehead pressed against hers and she increased the pace of her fingers against your clit, still slower than you wanted but you weren’t about to complain “ you know what you need to do if you want to come baby. Don’t you? “

You nodded weakly, tears now slipping across your cheeks at the sheer overwhelming feelings she was eliciting in you. It was almost too much and not enough at the same time “ ask me “ she said even though you already knew you had to. It was stupid of you to ever think she’d let you even think about coming without getting her permission first. You just hoped she wasn’t going to make you wait any longer, silently praying that she was in a generous mood.

“ please can I come? “ you sobbed, teetering on the brink and just needing her little push to send you over the edge.

“ go ahead baby. Come for me “ it was instantaneous. The most powerful orgasm of your life knocking the breath from your lungs, nails digging into her shoulders in way you were certain was drawing blood. Tess whispered praise in your ear as your body shook on top of her, moaning so loudly they’d probably hear you on the other side of the zone.

Her words stuttered a little as you came through the latter end of your orgasm and you got the feeling your squirming around had been enough to push Tess over too. She wasn’t even remotely as loud as you. In fact it was a miracle if she ever made any noise at all above stuttered breaths.

You sat in silence for a few minutes, catching your breath and letting the fog clear from your mind. Tess pressed soft kisses to your cheeks, erasing the tears that had fallen from your eyes in the softest way possible. The hand that had been firmly gripping your hip, now trailing softly up and down your spine.

“ you did so good “ she said softly “ knew you would “ you hummed an answer cupping her face in your hands, placing a kiss to her forehead, her nose, her lips “ are you okay? “

“ so fucking okay. Jesus “ she smiled and kissed you again, before gently easing the toy out of you, hushing you gently when you flinched at the feeling.

“ you okay to move? “

“ my legs are fucking dead “ you said with a giggle that made her laugh too, shaking her head slightly. She wrapped her arms around your waist and shifted you to snuggle into her chest

“ that’s okay we can stay here “ one of her hands came up to cradle your head, holding you close to her “ we need to take another trip to Lincoln soon. I wanna see what else is in that fucking drawer “

All you could do was laugh.

#tess servopoulos x reader #tess servopoulos #the last of us #tlou #Tess tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us fanfiction #smut #x reader #x you #Anna torv #fluff #lesbian #lgbt #other characters for exposure:#Joel miller #Ellie Williams

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mammamiagoth · 7 months

Text

Pulp | Bo Sinclair x Reader

warning: smut, subby bo, handjob, edging, piv, unprotected sex, creampie, degradation, no mention of genitalia/gender neutral, bo refers to reader as mama (no mommy kink tho), fluffy ending.

a/n: i found this in my drafts and was possessed by the horny spirit to finish it and i’m not mad about it. i do mention bo being bound bc it’s hot and i wanted to and he loved it so don’t come for me.

“You look so pretty like this, baby,” you coo, your breath ghosting over Bo’s bounding pulse, the thick chords of muscle tensing at the sensation.

You hadn’t lied, he really did look beautiful— body bound and pliant, his skin balmy with perspiration, pupils blown from the combination of lust and desperation he was drunk on. Hours of edging had worn him out, his pleas for release morphing into frayed syllables, his eyes welling up with tears.

“Does my pretty baby need to cum?”

He can only nod in response, his hips rutting into your palm as you stroke him at a torturously slow pace. You delight in the way his cock twitches at your dulcet tone, your words giving him false hope, but Bo knows better than to think you’ve had your fill.

The languid momentum you’d built up did little to satisfy him— it was by design, every touch purposefully pushing him toward the precipice of relief, only for your hand to recede.

You see the bob of his adam’s apple, his voice coarse when he grits out “baby—fuck— baby please,” pathetic in his attempt for your mercy.

You only smile cruelly in response, amused with the man beneath you, but you remain intent on breaking him. Fingers lithe as they tease his aching cock, up and down with a noncommittal grip that makes him arch upward.

“If you keep that up, I might not let you cum at all.” The words are sadistic but your features remain soft as ever, a syrupy sweetness in your tone that could rival honey.

The click in his jaw is unmistakable, reminding you of just who you’re dealing. You revel in the fact that only you can reduce him to tears, have him impotent to your every whim with a single look— probably less.

You hear him mumble through clenched teeth, an apology, barely coherent with the way he’s fumbling his words.

“What was that, handsome?” You tenderly stroke his chin while your other hand grips his girth at the base with enough force to have Bo lurching forward.

He recovers quickly, though his voice is noticeably strained when he speaks again. “I’m sorry, just— please, mama, I need it so fuckin’ bad,” his baby blues finally spilling over in time for you to lick away the briny trail.

This was the Bo you loved the most, submissive and malleable. None of that macho bullshit— you’d never cared for it much anyway. He was so much more than that, and hell, he did apologize…

“Oh honey,” you mock but begin stroking him more purposefully, his breath hitching in relief. “I’ll let you cum, you just gotta tell me who’s cock this is.”

He looks at you, steeling his visage before answering “it’s yours, mama. All of me, it’s yours.”

And with that, you move to straddle him, your panties pulled to the side as you lower yourself down with a strangled “fuck.”

Bo looks a mess, a moments notice from spilling inside you and the sight alone is nearly enough to send you over the edge. He says nothing as you grind above him, letting you take from him, completely at your mercy.

“I’m so close, Bo,” you cry out, making sure to meet his covetous gaze, “but if you don’t cum with me, you don’t cum at all.”

At the sound of his strangled moans, you clench around him, creaming his cock as he writhes in desperation. You almost miss it with the way your ears are ringing, hours of built up tension leading to this singular moment, his face contorted in pleasurable bliss as he spills inside of you. The warmth pulsates and envelopes you both. You let your head fall to his shoulder, hands wandering down to release his binds. Bo wastes no time to pull you into his chest, a steak of dominance you let him indulge in.

“Damn, mama,” he rasps, lips pressed to your head. “You drained me fuckin’ dry.”

You can’t help but giggle, satisfied and sated to the bone when you see how fucked out he looks. His eyelids flutter, heavy with sleep. It’s endearing, the way you can render him dazed, forever under your thumb when everyone else remains at arms length.

“Come on, big guy,” you yawn, letting yourself melt into the man beneath you. “Let’s go to bed.”

#bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair fanfic #bo sinclair #house of wax #my writing

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factual-fantasy · 1 year

Text

24 moar asks :}

..That’s.. That’s a good point.

I’ve noticed recently that I’ve been trying very hard to get all these projects done, but I just cant seem to get past this writers/artist block.. Ingo and Emmet part 3, my FNAF AU, the Rosalina comic.. all of it has just felt really draining. I think its because I’m turning these projects into work, instead of a fun hobby.

I actually was working on the Petey Piranha comic last night, but I just couldn’t get past the sketching stage. So I took a break to draw what ever I wanted and.. I had a lot of fun.

I think I’ve overwhelmed myself thinking I have to do all these projects and get them done quickly for.. what ever reason. And its made art really draining.

I think I’m gonna take all of my projects (aside from my FNAF AU) and just. Put them on the shelf for now. I’ll draw them if I ever feel like it.

Thanks for the little push anon.

When ever I want. And it’ll be what ever I want :}

@aemered

If you see that someone has reposted my art and you want to do something about it, first of all thank you very much that’s really kind of you-

SECOND OFF, report it if you can. If you cant then leave a comment saying its stolen and link back to my tumblr or just mention my name. Thanks again! Its really cool that you’d want to do that for me- 💕😭💕

I had planned that he could eat a fire flower and spit out a fire ball, but I later took away that ability. Yoshi ain’t got no fire powers :(

They do exist, and Bowser does care about them.. but he doesn't show it as much as he does in canon. He’s a lot more stern and ruler like. A lot less touchy feely you know?

The idea is that the 1-UP mushroom has fully left Mario’s body. So any effects or pain he experiences all lies in his trauma related to the incident.

Now, if Luigi were to die and be revived by a 1-UP? It would be the same. If the experience was traumatic and he suffered a horrible injury, he would probably deal with phantom pains too..

@tempestrio

For most of them I just referenced clothing that relates to the attraction/style they have in the game.

For Chica I looked up kids rock star costumes and took reference of what I thought looked good. For Bonnie I looked up old vintage bowling ally shirts and referenced the one that looked closest to his canon shirt. For Foxy I referenced pirate coats and costumes. For Monty I looked up old golfing outfits and picked out aspects that I liked and mixed it with punk/rock and roll. For Roxanne I referenced punk rock I think..? And old racing fire suits.

For Freddy though I mostly made it up.. but I looked at a bunch of different artists that made redesigns for Freddy and tried to capture the vibe of the ones I liked. Mostly the collar on his coat was something a lot of those artists drew-

For Gregory I just gave him a new outfit based on the story. When he went back to the Pizzaplex his clothes were dirty and worn.. so Freddy went and got him new clothes from one of the gift shops. So I went to google and referenced the sweaters and clothes you find throughout the game and gave him stuff that looked similar. Hope this helped! :}

There is! But its not that deep don’t worry-

When I was designing my sona, I wanted something on my hands. At the time my hands were covered in Band-Aids due to cat scratched and dry/cracked skin. So I thought hey! I could have bandaged hands! So I added them.

They also work if you call them my “artist hands” lol-

No, thank YOU for engaging with my content and sending me lovely messages! :D

@thedorkyidiot

Oh he’s in the AU, he’s probably one of the smaller gorilla types that just kind’a vibes and does old man stuff. He probably has to eat the sweeter fruits though because his jaw isn’t so strong anymore. Much to his dismay..

She didn’t cause any problems per say, the Toads didn’t even know she existed. Although she does create these shooting stars every time she comes to the planet.. but that doesn’t bother the Toads either, In fact they celebrate them. So the toads have no issue with Rosalina.

Also she apologized to Mario and Luigi for “disturbing” them because they heard her crying and they went to investigate. :(

And thank you! I’m glad you like my interpretations! :D

Well you’re in luck! My FNAF AU is the only project I plan to not drop and keep working on! Hahaha!... haaahhhh

(Also thank you very much that was very sweet 😭)

@shannonallaround

I don’t actually have a specific name that I tag my AU under.. but if you were to search “mario” in my blog search you’ll find just about every Mario related post I’ve ever made. AU and not AU.

Not yet.. 👀

The reason why Mario experiences phantom pain is because his first death was very traumatic for him. So whether or not he experiences phantom pains with his future deaths all depends on how he died, and how it effected him mentally.

Same goes for Luigi. If he dies a horribly painful/traumatic death.. he’ll likely experience phantom pains too..

@color-craz

There was a comic planned for how they met him actually.

They got lost in the woods and stumbled upon King Boos mansion. Like an idiot Mario goes in and Luigi follows. They both ended up getting tormented and pranked by the Boos. They were separated at one point but then met back up on the second floor. Mario sees a fire flower in an old flower pot and grabs it.

As soon as he becomes fire Mario.. the entire mansion goes completely silent..

Then, all the windows and doors slowly shut. Some of the lights come on and Mario and Luigi follow them. They follow the lights down the hall, down the stairs, through the main room and wind up led to the front door..

The front door is wide open. Mario and Luigi walk out.. only for the door to slam shut behind them. Locking them out.

Mario harnessing a fire flower was so bizarre, so impossible! That King Boo knew he was outmatched against him. So King Boo just silently let them out of the mansion without a fuss.

@mysteriousl0ser

I’m not sure how they would react to the Koopalings, but I imagine they wouldn't hurt them. It doesn’t take a genius to tell that the Koopalings are just kids..

As for their behaviors.. I think its close to the canon interpretations, except for Ludwig and JR. I had planned that Ludwig was going to be much bigger and more stern like his pa. Because he is the heir to the throne.. but then google told me that Roy is the oldest so there goes that plan-

For JR though his plans stick. JR is supposed to be smaller and younger. More like a toddler then a kid. He’s the youngest and the one Bowser is most protective of.

@gravitystar96

Thank you! I’m glad you like my AU! :D

As for if anyone will find Gregory.. I haven’t planned if anyone will or who it will be. Although it will likely be Chica or Monty.

Since Chica is so close to Freddy, she is bound to find out about this entire child that he has kept secret-

As for Monty.. I liked the idea of Gregory hiding for some reason.. and he calls for Freddy through his fazwatch in a panic. After a few minutes he hears big thumping plasticky foot steps approaching. He comes out of hiding thinking its Freddy..

But it was Monty.

I made them brothers because I could :}

Although I’m questioning it now. Maybe they could just be friends. They could just be two idiots who found each other and decided to reek havoc together.

Oooor they could be brothers., Hmm.. I’ll have to give it some more thought XD

If Bowser had gone straight for Luigi, first of all he would have to land a fatal blow twice. Because the power of the Ice Flower would Protect Luigi from one big hit. That’s actually why Mario died in one shot. Because the Fire Flower had just run our of power.

But anyway- after loosing the ice flower and getting hit? Luigi would just die.. and stay dead. Only Mario had consumed a 1-UP mushroom at that point..

I imagined them as these strange monsters that live in the woods. They don’t work for Bowser, or Peach, they just do their own thing. I also imagined them to deal with dark magic and rituals and stuff.

Wanna hear how Mario and Luigi first met one?

The plan was that the bros and Yoshi were exploring when they found a shy guy with its leg caught in a tree root. Mario carefully approached to try and help.. but the closer he got. The longer and more deformed the shy guy became.

Yoshi ended up snatching them both up and running away. Mario mysteriously had a fever that lasted for a few days after that..

Me waiting for my platonic kiss on the forehead be like:

My favorite character? Oooo that’s a good question. There’s a lot to choose from.. but one of my favorites is Hal Monitor. Always love it when he’s on screen XD

I actually like stupid Mario sometimes, he’s pretty funny XD

So far my favorite arc is the lawsuit arc. Mostly because I’m not caught up on the other arcs. The little nuggets of Mario angst/wholesomeness we got in that arc was delicious XD

@spencer-the-fox-87

If the Monkeys were to eat the red beets they would gain more muscle mass overtime. But its not a matter of them not being able to eat them, they just don’t like them.

The blue fruits are very sweet and juicy, and the beets are dry and bitter. The kongs that like bitter flavors eat the beets and grow to be huge. and overtime they develop a dislike for sweet tastes. And vice versa.

#my response #mario #fnaf security breach

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transformers-bold-bright-brisk · 11 months

Text

Prince’s First Day

Pt. 2 / Pt. 1: A Stern Talking To

Tagging @sonia-aquamarineson @asmito @novafire-is-thinking @bdwarrior1

Summary: Basically Prince and Predaking having an argument about Prince needing to attend RBA(Rescue Bots Academy).

Preview: Prince is what can be referred to as a “spoiled brat”. Of course they weren’t always like that. In fact, he used to be polite, just on the verge of well behaved… for a hyper newborn dragon, that is.

Apparently the all powerful Predaking didn’t know any better and never exactly said ‘no’ all that much when raising Prince. If you catch my drift? Not to mention letting them get away with pretty much anything—heck—he could probably get away with murder if they wanted to.

With Predaking having to deal with the backlash of his people not being all too happy with his protégé’s behavior; he decides to send them to RBA to where he has a trusted friend who’s teaching there. To help Prince take a break from the royal life and to realign their misguidedness.

May Primus help whose poor spark is entrusted with the feral beast.

— — —

Once upon a time…there was a young prince, who lived in a far far away kingdom. A land of Predacons. Voracious creatures who roamed an entire planet known as The Predacon Kingdom. The Predacon Kingdom is ruled by their terrifying yet benevolent king—Predaking. Also known as mentor to their majesty Prince, of The Predacon Kingdom. No, not as in a spawn of the king; their literal name is ‘Prince’.

Their relationship is not simply bound by the energon flowing through their veins. The bond between the two cannot be described as nothing more than an apprenticeship. At least, in the beginning it was…

CLATTER!

Now they have begun to have a closer bond…

SLAM!

Such as a bond between a parent and child…

CRASH!

Loud noises have disrupted the staff within the castle, with everyone turning their heads to triangulate where noise came from. Echoing off the walls and down the corridors, another loud tumbling of what seems to be a gargantuan sized chair. On top of the chair was a small two headed metallic dragon, with sharp yellow claws, a protoform as dark as graphite, and big orange wings emanating a neon glow. The little dragon suddenly had light shining through one head’s neck to its jaw, which immediately shot a large coordinated blast of fire at its target.

“I’m not going to some stupid school on some stupid planet- a billion lightyears away!” Prince shouted. “And you can’t make me!” The two headed dragon jumped into the air and perched himself on a jagged beam connected to the large dome ceiling.

“You will attend the academy, whether you like it or not—child!” Retorted the grand dragon Predaking. An enormous rough-scaled mechanical beast, with big sharp claws and armor dark as obsidian. His body is lined with alien magma shining through his seams and crevices. Most of all, his body takes up a majority of the room as he has been chasing his protege all over the castle. Trying his hardest to be reasonable, though it seems as if nothing would be able to get Prince to listen.

“Why are you trying to make this difficult for me? Attending the academy is your “punishment” for your recent inappropriate behavior!”

“Why? Why?! Are you kidding me?! You're sending me off to get—to get domesticated!”

“For the last time! Learning manners and proper discipline, for your sake and others, isn't as cruel as surrendering your free will! And it's not as if this was my only choice-”

Just as Predaking was about to finish his statement, Prince shot a stream of fire at their mentor’s face; and they took off thinking he was distracted. Leaping off the beam and heading down the nearest corridor. But he didn't have enough time to realize how unfazed Predaking was with his attack.

As Prince was in midair, giant talons suddenly wrapped around him—restraining the little dragon. “Let go, you jerk!” Exclaimed Prince, as he spat another blast of fire at Predaking’s muzzle.

Predaking shook off the flames and replied sternly, “No—I will not tolerate your immature behavior any longer. You’re going to do as I say, and you will do it even if I have to force you through that portal myself.” Prince still continued to struggle in his mentor’s grasp.

Whatever Predaking said went through one audial and out the other. They were putting up one heck of a fight against his opponent, even though he knew deep down it was pointless. But he wasn’t one to back down from a fight so easily.

— — —

#I’ll be honest-I totally forgot I was writing this #like as in I started this THREE WEEKS AGO #but hey at least it has multiple parts #which I don’t know how feel about yet #I’m not exactly what you call… a consistent creative #but I hope this short little one shot can suffice #I think writing one shots would be better for me since I don’t think I could survive if I tried writing a whole as chapter again #tf fan continuity #transformers bold bright brisk #maccadam #transformers #maccadams #prince #predaking #one shot #lore-ish

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world-of-fire-and-flight · 7 months

Text

Mirth's Ebenezer: Part 16

A/N: It’s been…a while🥴 I hope no one minds the pivot from The Lair in the Woods back to Mirth’s Ebenezer (which I’m hoping to focus on both of these now that all three Heirs of Tenebris books are out and I have a little more time on my hands while I figure out my next project😎)

Warnings: Rough transition from fluff to full fledged angst (sorry, y'all!), reference to recent violence, anxiety, fear, shock/trauma, handling of weapons, reference to past disaster/attack, swearing, the author completely forgetting that this started off as a holiday piece

My Masterlist | Taglist Info or Taglist Request Form | Mirth’s Ebenezer masterlist

Agent sighed heavily, scrubbing their face with their hand. Another dead end, another error message, another failure.

“Are you coming to bed?” A groggy voice called. Even the exhaustion in their lover’s voice couldn’t mask their irritation.

Agent blinked, breaking the spell cast on them by their Agency-issued laptop and the tens of tabs and programs opened on it. “I…” Shaking their head, Agent turned their chair around and stood. Both of their stiff knees popped and old injuries from their days in the field groaned. “I really should, shouldn’t I?”

Lover hummed, meeting them halfway across the cramped office and pulling them closer to leave a teasing kiss on their lips. “You really should.”

“Have I told you lately,” Agent started, resting their forehead on Lover’s, not daring to open their eyes for the fear that this was all just a dream and that they’d wake up any minute now having fallen asleep at their desk back in their cold dismal office at the Agency. “How much a love you?”

“Not nearly enough,” Lover whispered. “You’ve been too busy trying to catch that mole.”

“You’re not supposed to know about that.”

“And you’re not supposed to bring work home with you.”

“Forgive me?” Agent asked, parting just an inch to see their lover’s expression.

“Only if you take care yourself,” Lover said, turning serious. “You need to sleep—an actual full night of sleep—and eat proper meals and spend time rel—”

The pair jumped, nearly breaking away from each other in full. A blaring alarmed chimed from Agent’s desk. Agent snapped their head in the direction of their computer, their heart hammering against their chest.

Never once had they heard that alarm.

Lover groaned, clapping their hands over their ears. “Make it stop! It’s just as bad as the emergency…” Realization dawned in their eyes as the reality of what was happening sank like a lead weight in Agent’s stomach. “Shit it’s…”

“Yeah,” Agent said, shaking themselves from the shock of it. Darting over to their computer, they quickly silenced the alarm and grabbed their coat from the back of their desk chair, hurriedly shoving their arms through the sleeves.

Lover looked as disappointed as a child who’d been denied dessert.

“I know, sweetheart,” Agent said, cupping their cheek softly, forcing themselves to still long enough to remember themselves and their own situation. “I know. I promise, no matter what, I’ll come home.”

“Be safe,” Lover replied, tears brimming in their eyes.

Agent nodded. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Agent grasped Everette’s shoulder. “We’re not going to die, you hear me?”

Their words couldn’t stop the young hero’s blubbering, and if anything seemed to make it worse. Agent set their jaw, staring hard at the rookie-turned-forced-soldier. “Hey, look at me. Do I look scared to you?”

Everette shook their head. “You’re a heartless, bastard.”

Agent sighed. That wasn’t completely undeserved, but it still stung. Even after all they’d done to help protect a low-life criminal, to root out the mole, people still thought it was them, that they were to blame for this massacre.

“Leave them be, Agent.” Vigilante said, coming around the corner. “We have bigger problems to deal with than whatever rookie here is dealing with.”

“And you thought I was cold,” Agent rolled their eyes. Straightening, they reluctantly agreed with Vigilante and took up their rifle, slinging its strap across their chest. “Find anyone else?”

“Would I be standing here alone if I did?” Vigilante kicked the dirt beneath their feet. “If anyone else is left, they’re in deep cover now. The fire at the Agency’s building has finally been put out and the courthouse is mostly standing. The city’s in total chaos. They did it. The son of a bitch really did it.”

Agent shook their head. “I don’t believe that. This can’t be it. They couldn’t’ve won. Not like this.”

“Yeah, well, we never did find the mole, so…” Vigilante shrugged. “Guess it doesn’t matter anymore. Supervillain obviously got what they wanted.”

Agent didn’t believe that. If they could just find who the mole was and figure out why they betrayed them all, then…then they could…

“It won’t bring them back,” they muttered. Agent’s chest tightened. They forced out a tense breath and could hardly draw another. Sinking down to sit beside Everette, Agent repeated, “It won’t bring them back.”

Vigilante groaned. “Not you too. I need someone to have their head on right because it can’t just be left up to me. Hell if anyone knows where Superhero and Mirth are, or if…fuck.” Vigilante swore again, and again, but it still couldn’t quite break the stupor that had overcome Agent. If anything, they’d guess that it had spread to Vigilante too. They were certain of it when next they spoke. “You don’t think—we can’t be the only ones left. Right?”

“I don’t know,” Agent said, their voice and soul hollow. They forced themselves to swallow. Nodding their head as if they could convince themselves of their own resolve, Agent pushed themselves off the ground and stood on shaking legs. “But if we are, we owe it to them to fight. Supervillain can’t win.” They shrugged, growing more confident with every word. “At the very least, we can be a thorn in their side until the calvary shows up.”

Everette took a shuddering breath, sniffling. “You really think that there are other heroes coming?”

Agent snorted. “You didn’t really think this was the Agency’s only branch, did you? There are heroes all over this country—all across the world even. We might not all be under the same banner or agency, hell we might not all even consider ourselves heroes,” they paused, glancing over at Vigilante and offered them a nod. “but we are. There are more of us than we know. There are more people who want to help, who have good hearts, who care about others, who want to do good and be the good that people see in the world, that inspire them to do good too. It’ll sound cheesy and like a shitty motivational poster, but I’m gonna say it anyway: we have hope. All Supervillain has is fear, and if there is anything I have learned watching all of these heroes for the twenty some-odd years I’ve been an Internal Investigator, it’s that hope is stronger than fear. Think about the most feared people throughout history. You don’t see them still standing, do you?”

Everette shook their head weakly. Agent looked to Vigilante. Their eyes were narrowed suspiciously, like they thought the whole thing was dumb. After a second, they nodded anyway.

“And why not? Why are they history? Because the people had hope. Someone, somewhere, had hope, and they held on to it, and they tore down their fears, they defeated the big bad that plagued their people, and they gave them hope, something to believe in. And that’s what we need to do. We need to show this city that there is still someone fighting for them, that Supervillain hasn’t won, and that they won’t win. We just need to give them something to hold on to, just until help arrives.”

Agent looked from Vigilante to Everette and back again. Sweat slicked their palms. They held their breath, praying their compatriots at least believed their speech.

They tried to believe in it themselves, but all Agent could bring themselves to think about were those few precious moments from earlier in the night. A few precious, yet stolen, moments.

They wondered if they had been selfish, if they had gotten to the Agency sooner, if they hadn’t taken that moment to say goodbye.

They wondered if Lover was still awake, fighting their exhaustion and battling against their anxiety, waiting for any word, any sign, any instance of them.

They wondered if a single moment, a single kiss, a single speech, a single hope would be enough to reverse the damage Supervillain had done, and the battle they’d already won. They hoped, with every fiber of their being, that the war could yet still be won.

Turning their eyes toward the eastern sky, the first hues of the sunrise poked through the ashy haze that hung over the city scape.

Perhaps a single hope was all they needed in order to survive long enough for something to happen that would make a real difference—a real, honest difference for the betterment of the city.

Meanwhile at Baron’s Cabin the Woods:

Superhero glanced around the dimly lit basement, taking in the gleaming array in the lantern light Baron had brought with them.

“So, a safe house, huh?” they asked, eyeing Baron skeptically.

“Yeah,” he said. “This is what makes it safe.” Superhero had to admit that he had a point, but didn’t dare say so aloud. Taking a breath, they resigned themselves to being at the mercy of Baron’s plan. “All right, so where should we start?”

Mirth’s Ebenezer Taglist: @heroes-villains-side-blog @selene-stories @violetcancerian @kaiwewi @averyconfusedhuman Just let me know if you’d like to be added or removed (no reason necessary!) You can also add yourself using this handy dandy form 😊

A/N 2: I legit can't remember the last time I wrote for Mirth and I'm so sorry to those of you following along with this series💜

#writeblr #heroes and villains #hero x villain snippet #hero x villain community #my writing #Mirth's Ebenezer #Mirth's Ebenezer series

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callsign-phoenix · 2 years

Text

I wrote this for a lovely anon, I hope you like it!

It is a Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x female!reader imagine.

Thank you to @hederasgarden and @a-reader-and-a-writer for proofreading!

Warnings: cursing, mentions of hypothermia

You arrived back at Top Gun with an array of mixed feelings.

While you were proud of what you had accomplished, you hadn’t exactly been the easiest person to be around, not following your history with Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw.

You had been best friends for years until you developed feelings for him.

It had taken you years to confess how you were feeling but when you did he hadn’t taken you seriously, instead rejecting you and telling you that your feelings weren’t a big deal.

You drifted apart after that because you couldn’t stand to look at him and he didn’t want to talk to you either, but you missed him every day.

While you cursed yourself for speaking about your feelings, it was also somehow a blessing.

His rejection had given you the reason you needed to become the best of the best.

While the others aviators were called back to learn and fly the mission, you were asked to fly and teach it, showing just how good you were and that you had accomplished so much more in the same amount of time.

When you entered the Hard Deck you were open for anything but also slightly nervous.

Phoenix was the first to welcome you, hugging you tightly and smiling at you.

“You got called in as well? It’s so good to see you,” she said, turning to everyone else.

You could see a few people whose faces were familiar as Phoenix introduced you to everyone.

“She’s the best pilot to graduate Top Gun for decades,” she continued just as everyone’s attention shifted behind you.

When you turned around you found Bradley Bradshaw behind you, looking cocky in his khaki shorts and Hawaii shirt.

While the others greeted him you didn’t acknowledge him much, even though he made eye contact with you several times.

“Everyone here is the best there is. Who the hell are they going to get to teach us?” your best friend for years asked, making you chuckle loudly.

Bradley’s presence agitated you to the point you blurted something out that you hadn’t intended to.

“That would be me,” you answered him, and everyone shut up and looked at you.

They were all silent until Phoenix let out a whistle, moving to clap you on the shoulder.

“Hell yes, that’s my girl,” she said, ginning widely.

“You’re our instructor? But we graduated together.” Hangman blinked in confusion, which made you nod.

“Yes, is that a problem?” you answered him, looking into his eyes until he looked away.

When you glanced at Bradley, he looked away immediately, clenching his jaw in something that resembled annoyance.

The night went on and after a while the crowded bar became too much for you, prompting you to take a break outside the Hard Deck.

You couldn’t enjoy the silence there for long because you heard the door open behind you just a few minutes after you had exited the bar.

“It’s been ages since we last talked,” you heard Bradley’s full voice from behind you come nearer, and you simply turned to look out on the sea as far as you could in the dark.

You didn’t want to talk to the man who was once the boy that had left you, so you didn’t.

“I see that you and Phoenix still get along well,” he tried again, only to be rewarded with more silence.

He stood beside you, looking at you, contemplating what to say as you payed him no attention whatsoever.

He took his time but after a while he spoke up again, studying your face.

“I’m really curious how you did it,” he said softly, and his cryptic sentence made you frown and glance at him, if even briefly.

“I mean, we’re all the best there is. So I’m just thinking… how did you out of all people get so good?” he asked.

You were astonished by his charm as he referred to your time at flight school.

You had been an average student at best when you had still been in contact with Bradley but that had changed drastically afterwards.

You were annoyed enough by his presence that you didn’t feel guilty about answering in a stern voice.

“That’s because I found better things to do than gush over boys,” you said making eye contact for the first time and you saw him glance away.

The second you saw that your comment had made him uncomfortable a feeling of regret shot through you, which only grew stronger with the silence that settled between you.

“You know what, I’m sorry for what happened between us,” you said, receiving a simple nod from Bradley.

He didn’t meet your eye but he looked at you, studying your body to see if it had changed since he last saw you.

“Do you know why Maverick pulled my papers?” he asked you, referring to what used to be his ‘Uncle Pete’ by his Navy callsign.

You were surprised by the question, especially since you didn’t know the answer.

When you shook your head he frowned slightly, pushing his hands into the pockets of his shorts.

“I don’t know, B, but he must have had a reason to,” you answered him, using the nickname that you hadn’t said in ages.

Bradley scoffed at your answer, his face contorting into anger again.

“He must have had a reason?”, he asked you, broadening his stance on the sand and pulling his hands out of his pockets in anger.

His harsh reaction made your blood boil because you had honestly wanted to make amends, but he didn’t seem to care.

“Yes, I’m sure Maverick had a good reason to do it. He’s not that irrational,” you answered him.

The anger that flashed over Bradley’s face was obvious, mixed with hurt.

There was a second of silence before his face contorted into an angered grimace.

“You know what, fuck you,” he said as he turned around and left you standing alone outside the bar.

When you entered again it was only to tell Phoenix that you were leaving, and she nodded as she glanced at Bradley.

“I’ll talk to him,” she told you, and you thanked her for it.

While you didn’t talk to Bradley again before the mission except for training-related matters he seemed less angry, which made you think that Phoenix had done well in convincing him not to be mad at you.

You acted on instinct when you saw Rooster being followed by a 5th Generation Fighter.

Knowing that the enemy fighters were heading his way made you turn your plane around just in time, taking the hit that was aimed at Rooster’s plane and making it out of yours just in time to survive.

Bradley was livid in his Hornet but the comms cut off, leaving the Navy with no knowledge that you had survived the accident.

You saw the others being called back to base but you couldn’t make your location known, giving your best to get as far away from the stranded plane as possible.

While you were pretty much unharmed but fighting to stay alive your fellow aviators were in shock, not knowing what had happened to you.

The hours that followed until the Navy found it safe to send a rescue party were excruciating, for all of you.

Maverick was worried, of course, but Bradley was the most concerned.

He didn’t talk much, if at all, and while everyone tried to make him feel better by talking to him and spending time with him, he was out of it.

He fought to at least seem a little conscious when the others were around but in the privacy of his room he just sat there and stared.

He didn’t sleep either, for two days, because the fact that you were just gone kept him from doing anything.

All he felt was fear and a huge amount of grief, thinking that you wouldn’t come back.

He didn’t listen in on the rescue mission in the comms room because he couldn’t bring himself to wait there just so they could give up their search, but when Phoenix breathlessly threw his door open and hurried him to come along he did so immediately, without a second thought.

The two of them sprinted towards the tarmac and arrived just when the helicopter landed, rushing towards the vehicle just as the people inside exited.

The moment he saw you as you were being helped out of the helicopter Bradley’s heart stopped, seeing how utterly exhausted and hypothermic you were.

Despite the medics asking you to follow them he rushed towards you and pulled you into a hug, feeling how cold your body was.

He didn’t let you go for a while and you had enough energy to return the hug, gently putting your arms around his waist and holding onto his shirt to not fall to your knees.

Everyone else had also come together to greet you but you were so wrapped up in Bradley you didn’t notice that.

You didn’t have the energy to ask him why he suddenly seemed to care, but he seemed to know that he had to explain himself.

He was so gentle with you as he pulled away to look at you, moving his arms to around your waist to keep you on your feet.

“I’m so sorry, about all of it,” he whispered as he caressed your cheek, his dark eyes so full of regret that you were entirely captivated by them.

After a second of silence you blinked, setting your hands on his chest to keep yourself steady.

You didn’t notice that he looked at your lips but when he moved in to kiss you, you didn’t object, letting him press his lips to yours with vigour.

Only when he pulled away did you manage to think about what had just happened.

“What the fuck, Bradley,” you exclaimed at his entire change of mood, from the anger he emitted before the mission to his immense worry and show of affection now.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, searching your eyes for forgiveness, which you hoped your expression granted him.

“I just get really emotional and vulnerable when I’m around you. Which is why I act how I do,” he went on, setting a hand to the side of your face while holding you up with the other.

It was getting harder to stay conscious and upright, but Bradley helped you with both.

The heat from his body pressed against yours also helped your freezing limbs.

“I know it’s not an apology, but everyone I love died, I didn’t want that to happen to you,” he added.

“When you got hit I realised that whether we’re together or not I love you, and I always will,” he smiled at you as he searched your eyes again.

“I know it’s far from an apology, but I panicked when you confessed your feelings for me all those years ago. I barely remember my dad and my mom had passed away a year ago, I wasn’t mature enough to realise that you are the best and most important thing that ever happened to me,” he said and you felt your eyelids flutter from the confession and your exhaustion.

“I miss you, I miss us, and I need you,” he finished his little speech, and you felt bad that you were too exhausted to properly react to it.

Instead of doing so, you leaned in to press your lips to his briefly before letting your forehead rest against his chest, holding onto him to to keep upright.

Your eyes were closed and you barely felt him lifting you, carefully carrying you to where the medics had gone, your exhaustion hitting you deeply.

The only reason why you weren’t able to stand up anymore was carrying you, Bradley’s presence had made you feel so cared for and relaxed, just like it had years ago.

tagging: @wildbornsiren @mayhem24-7forever @green-socks @hederasgarden @letsfvckingdance @shadeds-library @a-reader-and-a-writer @yespolkadotkitty @whateverbagman @neptunes-curse @sweetheartlizzie07 @top-gun-rooster @kyramaximoff @iloveprettyboysblog @ateliefloresdaprimavera @peaches-1999 @oliviah-25 @natasharomanoffisbaebby @luckyladycreator2 @blue-aconite @tipsykeen @airedale17 @ycarlii @teti-menchon0604

(please tell me if you want to be added to the taglist, or use this link)

#bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster x you #rooster x reader #rooster top gun

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mlmxreader · 2 years

Text

A Helping Distraction | Bruce Wayne x gn!reader

@satan-incarnate-666 asked: “You look so handsome when you’re trying to concentrate” w bruce wayne n a reader who's trying to help with Corruption Investigation Of The Week?

summary: Bruce asks for your help with his most recent case, but maybe he should’ve thought twice.

tws: references to Christian Bale’s filmography, swearing

word count: 702

Looking over from your laptop, you could see Bruce was hard at work, and although you wanted to comment about how much he looked like the main character in a film you had seen the previous night - something called Equilibrium, although you didn’t exactly pay much attention to it - you could see how hard he was attempting to focus; how he was doing his best to concentrate on his current investigation without delving into interruptions or distractions. You had to admit, he was very handsome when he tried to concentrate, those light brown eyes filled with focus and his brows furrowed; you couldn’t help but to smile as you scratched at the side of your jaw, clearing your throat as you dared to distract him.

“Bruce!” But he didn’t look at you. “Bruce. Bruce. Bruce. Bruce.”

Finally, he looked, tilting his head to the side. “Yeah?”

“You look so handsome when you’re trying to concentrate,” you shrugged, looking back at your laptop and trying not to grin. He would have you for that, and you knew it.

“(y/n),” he got up, crossing the room so that he could stand beside you, his hand at the back of your neck as he sighed. “I’m trying to work.”

“Okay,” you hummed, your hands on his hips as you licked your lips and spread your legs a little. “What’s that gotta do with me? You asked me to help, remember?”

“Distraction isn’t helping,” Bruce huffed, sitting on your lap, his legs either side of your hips as he held onto your shoulders. “Is it?”

“Depends how you see it,” you chuckled. “Y’know, you do look an awful lot like the guy in Equilibrium.”

He furrowed his brows, tilting his head to the side. “What does that have to do with corruption at Gotham's pharmaceutical practices?”

“It was just on my mind, ‘s all,” you admitted. “And anyways, distraction is helping - it gives you a break, doesn’t it?”

Bruce rolled his eyes as he shook his head, running a hand through his hair before he got off of your lap, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead before he made his way back over to his own computer; he sat down, but made no effort to continue to work, instead, he swung his chair around so that he could look at you, a fond little glint in those hazel eyes that made you resist the urge to grin and to laugh.

“You want me to take a break?”

“For a minute or two, yeah,” you nodded. “I know you’re Batman and all that shit - but even superheroes can get fatigued. Even the best in the business.”

Bruce smiled a little before he cleared his throat and let out a soft grumble. “How about I cut you a deal? You help me with this case for a couple more hours, and after that, I’ll take you to Dorsia for tea.”

“Dorsia’s nice,” you mused. “One condition, though.”

“What?”

“We listen to Huey Lewis and The News on the way there,” you insisted. “Specifically, Fore!, it’s their best one.”

Bruce raised a brow, but eventually he nodded and cleared his throat. “So are you gonna actually help me, now?”

“Yeah, I actually got a couple leads for you,” you started, “first of all, talk to the union.”

“The union?”

“Yeah, they’ve been fucked over royally by the CEOs and shit,” you explained, “long hours for little pay, no benefits - most of ‘em are on zero hour contracts. Shit like that. They’ve probably got more evidence than any fucking stupid middle class prick.”

Chuckling, Bruce nodded. “I’ll sit down with the union leader - anything else?”

“Yeah, there’s a guy,” you cleared your throat. “Jacob. He got a lot of dirt on the people running the show - y’know, steadily raising the price of medicines so that eventually only… certain people can afford them.”

“Okay,” Bruce smiled. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you smiled back before turning to your laptop. “Bruce?”

“Yeah?”

“Won’t we get caught at Dorsia? I mean, outside of Alfred… no one knows about us,” you said. “You sure we won’t get caught?”

“It’ll be fine,” he replied softly, “we’ll be fine. Everyone thinks we’re just friends.”

#mlem writes #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x yn #bruce wayne one shot #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne #batman x reader #batman x you #batman x yn #batman one shot #batman x y/n #batman imagine #batman #bruce wayne oneshot #batman oneshot #the dark knight #the dark knight trilogy

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yoonpobs · 3 years

Text

bad boy good thing | drabble i. | m

WARNINGS. jealous jk, jk's gf is hot and he's not the only one who thinks that, jimin and tae as instigators, i swear jimin and jk love each other, fucking in public spaces aka a car in a parking lot, jk luvs his gf, appearance of perpetrator jin!

NOTE. i missed this couple 🥺oc is living her hot girl summer life and jk does nawt know how to deal with it Lol. hope u enjoy loves!!!!

WORDS. 3k+

“I’m okay,” Jungkook murmurs, eyes fluttering shut as he repeats his own personal mantra. “I’m good. I’m fine—I’m chill. Chillest person ever. I’m good—”

“He’s not okay,” Taehyung snickers.

Jungkook blocks the negativity out, purposefully and intentionally. Nothing could ruin his day—not on his watch, especially as the sun shines over bodies across the beach while the waves break into beautiful fragments that he’s yearning to dip his feet into.

Personal affirmations came first.

“I’m good, I’m fine, I’m okay,” he chants like a crazy person, definitely earning some form of side-eye from the people next to him but he can’t be bothered. Another person thinking that he was insane wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to him—not when—

“You should open your eyes,” Jimin says, “How are you going to fight them if you don’t know thy enemy?”

Immediately, Jungkook’s peace is disturbed by the mouth of Park Jimin, who painfully reminds him of why he’s got into the entire personal mantra and affirmation thing. He used to think it was redundant, unnecessary. How could the universe return your wishes just as you’ve uttered them into the atmosphere? It didn’t seem logical to him.

But right now, that didn’t matter—not when he had bigger things to be worried about.

“Don’t disturb my peace,” Jungkook snaps.

“They did it first,” Jimin retorts, cocking his head towards the flock of people at a certain part of the beach, specifically towards where the water meets the shore.

Jungkook’s eye twitches. His peace is disrupted, his happiness is compromised and it’s all Park Jimin’s fault. He spent a good amount of time getting into his zone, reaffirming himself that he was in fact, fine, good—he was okay! But now, he feels all his resolve dissolve when he realises he can’t even see the main thing that was responsible for his dilemmas.

“You’d think a celebrity was on this beach,” Taehyung snorts.

“Not helping,” Jungkook says dryly.

“So isn’t your crazy person chanting,” Jimin points out, “but yet, here we are—listening to you reciting your own version of a biblical verse.”

“I’m fine,” Jungkook grits for the umpteenth time, and no less is his assertions any more convincing than it was a moment ago. The flicker of his irises towards to crowd is enough to prove that fact. “I’m just enjoying my day at the beach with my friends and my girlfriend.”

“See, there are two false statements in that,” Taehyung tilts his head downwards, offering a smug smirk that Jungkook wishes he could shove into the sand beneath him. “You’re definitely not enjoying this because I can see the veins protruding out of your neck at how hard you’re clenching your jaw, and”—the older boy makes the effort to taunt Jungkook further by letting out a low whistle the moment the crowd seems to grow slightly bigger—“you’re partially right about the friend part. Your girlfriend though … where is she?”

I’m good. I’m okay. I’m cool—

“Oblivious, as usual,” Jimin sighs, plopping back onto the beach towel beneath him while shooting Jungkook a pointed stare. “It’d be sad if you only called her your girlfriend for six months when you’ve been in love with her for seven years.”

“Okay that’s it. I’m going there,” Jungkook declares, huffing as he pushes himself off the ground while Jimin makes an effort to grab at his ankle, halting the younger boy from causing any damage and potentially getting them banned from ever returning.

“Not with that temper you aren’t,” Jimin snaps, “Sit your ass down. God. Can’t you take a joke?”

“A joke?” Jungkook splutters, abhorred. “You literally just said she’s going to break up with me!”

“I said that it’d be sad if—”

“Same fucking difference,” he hisses, rubbing a hand across his face before he kicks Jimin’s petty grip off his ankle while levelling him with a menacing glare. Jungkook’s eyes slowly drift to the side where you finally enter his vision, still smiling like the soft and sweet person you were as you help Namjoon with whatever crab hunting mission he had.

See, Jungkook’s mature enough to know that you and Namjoon were good friends, great ones, even. The two of you were smart and clicked well, and if anything, Jungkook was more envious of the fact that the two of you shared such a wholesome and meaningful friendship than anything else.

The fact that Namjoon used to have feelings for you didn’t bother Jungkook anymore, not when he knew where your heart truly laid. He also trusted Namjoon with his entire life and his firstborns (not that he’d ever tell you that, and God—did he hope that day would eventually come when it came to you). But still, Jungkook was mature—he did some growing up, and he was proud of that.

But Jungkook’s human, a flawed, ever-learning and constantly improving human. A human who’s crazy in love with his pretty girlfriend that he’s longed for years—and a human who isn’t blind. A human who can’t ignore the fact that, apparently, he wasn’t the only person that was trying to keep himself in check at how stunning you were. Every day—and especially today, with how your dainty yellow bikini drapes over the curves of your body.

Jungkook nearly cries. Yellow was his favourite colour. You wore it for him.

Not for—

“Maybe you should head over,” Taehyung murmurs, snapping Jungkook out of his love-filled mind as his eyes clear, immediately catching what his friend was referring to.

Some dude. Talking to you. Smiling at you like you carried all the answers to all the world problems as you giggle a tune comparable to birds chirping. Maybe Jungkook was exaggerating but it always sounded like you were singing his favourite song even if you were just explaining economical concepts to him like a soothing e-book.

“God, why couldn’t she have been ugly,” Jungkook groans.

“You wouldn’t have dated her otherwise,” Jimin retorts.

Jungkook gawks, affronted as he gives his two friends a scandalised expression as he places his hands over his chest to indicate the offence he took to that statement.

“I’m not superficial,” he huffs, “I fell in love with her because of her—”

“Personality, yada yada,” Jimin mocks him in a lower tune that has Jungkook glaring at him. “Yeah, okay. But don’t tell me that her being pretty doesn’t help you bust a nut every once in a while.”

Jungkook flushes.

“Well, yeah, but I’m her boyfriend—”

“Thank you for reminding me that you are in fact, still a boy,” Jimin rolls his eyes, “Men. Mansplaining everything, really.”

Jungkook’s jaw slackens as his eyes briefly land on Taehyung’s figure who doesn’t look too bothered with how the conversation turned out as he shrugs in response.

“How about you do the typical manly thing of being a jealous prick and go over there and stomp over all her fan club members,” Jimin says sarcastically, resting his arm over his eyes to shield them from the sun.

There’s a brief rustle from where the sand meets the towel, and a relatively long period of silence while the only thing that permeates the air is the sound of waves with laughter coming from a family a distance away.

“He did exactly that, didn’t he.”

“You need to stop giving him ideas,” Taehyung sighs, plopping a grape into his mouth before occupying the space next to his friend. “Should we find another beach to frequent?”

“Really?” you laugh, “That’s so cool! I’m actually planning on landing an apprenticeship there over the summer.”

“Oh?” The man is leaning way too close to you for comfort, but you’re unfazed. Jungkook doesn’t even want to know where the hell Namjoon had gone, leaving you with this broad-shouldered, terrifyingly handsome man. “I could definitely put a good word in for you if you’d like.”

You beam, appreciative rather than brazen. But Jungkook thinks the man doesn’t know that.

“I don’t think I can accept that, Seokjin.”

And of course, you knew his name.

“Why not?” Seokjin smirks, and Jungkook knows that it’s definitely done him justice in other situations. “For a beautiful—”

“____,” he interjects, smoothly (or not quite) sliding next to you as his arms wrap around your waist before his glare rests on the man before him, who looks both shocked and unbothered at his appearance. “Who’s this?”

You jump slightly at Jungkook’s arrival but relax when you realise that it was just him and not some other beach weirdo.

“Jungkook, this is Seokjin! He actually attended our university—”

“Really,” he says dryly, “That’s nice.”

“Is this your …?” Seokjin looks Jungkook up and down before settling with a rather unimpressed look. “Do seniors usually bring their shadows out for playdates?”

Your eyes widen at his patronising tone, and before can even think to correct him with a tilted frown, Jungkook’s fingers dig into your waist, a precursor to his jaw that clenches while he engages in his own version of a staredown with the man before you.

“Boyfriend.”

Seokjin raises a brow.

“Me,” Jungkook blinks, unnerved and quite frankly, tired. He’s crossed this bridge enough times, and it’s always the same. Some older dude who thought that you were doing charity work by having Jungkook tag along with like some puny little brother. “I’m her boyfriend.”

“Jungkook—” you start, softly reaching to grip his arm.

“Interesting,” Seokjin says offhandedly and Jungkook knows it’s anything but. “Well, my offer still stands.”

He’s directing it to you as you peer up at him with your notoriously innocent eyes. Jungkook hates that this douche is still unaffected by his blatant declaration of the fact that you were—taken.

“I—that’s fine, Seokjin,” you say softly, lips curling into a thankful smile before he nods.

The look he sends Jungkook is nothing short of unimpressed, and Jungkook’s thinking of clamming the dude into the sand and quite literally, bury the hatchet with him. Sure, he was handsome and broad, and undoubtedly ripped—but Jungkook trained to benchpress twice his weight so he could beat up assholes who tried to hit on his girlfriend.

Right before he leaves, Jungkook calls for his name—intentionally calling him Seokmin—noting the way his face drops into a scowl.

“You’re not her type.”

He scoffs.

“And you are?” he throws back, brows raised as a challenge.

“That’s why I get to hold her and you’re walking away.”

With that, Seokjin doesn’t bother responding to Jungkook, especially in the way that you gawk at your boyfriend’s blatant warning to the older man.

He titters off, and it’s effectively just you and Jungkook standing by the shore while you briefly see the way Namjoon stutters before deciding to return to where Jimin and Taehyung lays.

Jungkook’s still seething in his rage, clenching and unclenching his fists even though he got the last word. It wasn’t that he thought you’d elope with Seokjin and leave him—he trusted you wholeheartedly and vice versa. He knew you loved him and so did he.

It had more to do with the fact that Seokjin saw you, and eventually, him—and thought that Jungkook wasn’t fit to be your boyfriend. That he saw a gorgeous girl on the beach and expected her to be single, and if not—to be with a boyfriend that had his shit together and not … not Jungkook.

“Jungkook?” you say quietly, tugging at his elbow while you peer up at him with wide and apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry.”

It’s no good, the fact that you’re apologising. As if you were responsible for his insecurities when you’ve done nothing but shower him with love and support ever since the two of you started officially dating.

“Don’t apologise,” he says stiffly, though his heart isn’t angry—he can’t help the way his words get out. “It’s not your fault.”

“But—”

“If you apologise then you’re gonna piss me off, baby,” he says lightly, peering you down with a small smirk as your eyes widen.

“I—okay,” you say weakly, and before he knows it, you’re intertwining your fingers with his, eyes suddenly twinkling in a way he’s grown all too familiar with.

“You have the keys?” he murmurs softly.

You nod, blind and in love as you sigh.

“Take care of me?” you ask sweetly, and Jungkook forgets all about Seokjin when he has you right in front of him.

“O-Oh, fuck—Jungkook—ngh—”

Maybe Jungkook really was a crazy person, but he’d argue that you were equally as crazy to oblige to indulge in his lewd fantasies. He was crazy, for you and your cunt that was like nirvana, and it’s proven further when he fucks into you at a brutal pace, uncaring whether or not the car shakes with the exertion of the activities that were taking place in it.

It could be the fact that he had a decade worth of fantasies to play out, but he knows that he plays a huge part in opening your sexual nature and he couldn’t be happier about it, especially when you unabashedly throw your head onto your chest, whimpering with the dirty squelches of his thrusts that echo in the vehicle.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” he growls, hand wrapping around the back of your neck to force your glassy eyes to look at him.

The look on your face is enough to get Jungkook even more riled up, your flushed cheeks and swollen lips while you nod your head manically, crazy—and his.

“Y-Yours,” you whimper, and just about then, Jungkook brings your hips down with his free hand and meets you with a sharp thrust that has your mouth dropping open and your face scrunched up in pleasure. “F-Fuck, J-Jungkook.”

“No one gets to fuck you like this,” he hisses, pressing a hot kiss to your neck as you whine, hips involuntarily swivelling to meet his fast pace. The car is shaking and it’s all too risky, Jungkook knows that—but his rationale is clouded with the antagonising face of Seokjin. “No one gets to see you like this. Only I do.”

“Y-Yes!” you sob, clutching onto him as he feels your pussy tighten viciously around him, the walls of your inner linings spasming as Jungkook hisses at the feeling. “Only you K-Kook. Only ever want you.”

Jungkook believes you, especially when you desperately hold onto him as he feels himself slowly reach the edge. He knows you are too, especially when your whines get higher in pitch, and your tugs against his shoulders get tighter. He knows because he’s learnt about your body as your boyfriend—and he’s the only person that will ever get to have you like this.

The thought, paired along with the risk of your situation only fuels his determination to get you off, his strong arms immediately wrapping around you to root you into place as he shoves his cock deeper into you.

“Come on, pretty girl,” he croons as you mewl in pleasure, breathless whines turning more desperate as your eyes flutter shut. “You wanna show me how much you want me?”

You nod manically, your pussy fluttering around his length as he grunts in exertion.

“G-Gonna—pleasedon’tstop—fuck, I-I’m cumming—!” you cry, tugging your face into the crook of his neck as Jungkook bites his lips in focus, all ready to accept your hot pleasure and his own.

“Come for me,” he encourages, lips hovering over your earlobe as you obey his orders, head thrown back as he watches your mouth drop wider and your eyes roll to the back of your head, pussy tightening around his length.

Jungkook thinks you’re beautiful. On days where you don’t feel like you do, but he may be biased to say that he thinks you look absolutely stunning for him like this. When he knows that he’s the one responsible for your reddened cheeks, the way you so desperately cling onto him whenever you’d orgasm (the only person that would ever know this fact about you), and the way that you’re left breathless, satiated and with that hazed expression after his resolute efforts.

Jungkook cums shortly after, with those exact thoughts plaguing his mind. He was so whipped. He really only had to think of you and he would get hard, and having you right above him, soft and warm with your arms draped loosely over his form made his heart all mushy and soft despite the way his cock stands erect.

You mewl in oversensitivity although you don’t complain. You never do, whenever Jungkook cums after you. Even now, when Jungkook comes down from his high with pants of his own, his own mind-clearing while his cock softens in you—you remain patient. Patient like the ever-loving, wonderful girlfriend that you were—one that Jungkook wasn’t sure he deserved.

“Wow,” you giggle, forehead resting against his as you return from your own post-orgasmic bliss. “I can’t believe I let you fuck me in a parking lot.”

Jungkook flushes, reality sinking in when he realised that the two of you weren’t hidden from plain sight. While the idea of being caught was definitely arousing, Jungkook knew he wasn’t too keen on having anyone see you delirious, even if it was all for him. He was lucky enough that your bikini top remained on the entire time, but both your sweaty bodies were enough of a dead giveaway.

“I just,” Jungkook tries to explain, words slurring in embarrassment as you raise a brow at him. “You look really pretty today.”

You stare at his forlorn expression as if admitting that pained him. Jungkook feels slightly embarrassed at how he reacted, and if you notice this, you don’t point it out—yet.

“Wore this for you,” you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to the mole under his lip. Jungkook’s heart soars at your admission even if he knew that. “You know it’s only for you, right?”

Your question is purposeful and Jungkook shamefully looks to his lap, and even then—you’re still connected. He slowly pulls out, wincing when his cum threatens to pool out of your pussy, but before he can pretend to clean you up, you’re putting your bikini bottoms back in place and clamping your hands over his cheeks so that he’d look at you.

“Jungkook,” you say sternly.

He sighs.

“Yes,” he groans, feeling a lot like a child who’s being berated. “I just—God. He was such a prick.”

“I know,” you say gently, fingers combing through his hair while he melts into your touch. “There are a lot of pricks out there, but you know that I only love you, right?”

Your confession is the same as the one you’ve made six months ago, and just last night before the two of you fell asleep—but it’s a confession that Jungkook never grows tired of.

“I know,” he mumbles as you giggle at him. “It’s just that … he really thought he had a chance with you, and when he saw me it was like—”

You frown, finger pressed against his lips to stop his rambling as he peers up at you with doe-eyes.

“None of that,” you chide lightly, “I don’t care what people think. The only person I care about is you, and no one will change that, okay?”

Jungkook feels himself relax into your touch, especially when you lean forward to capture his lips in a soft kiss that isn’t set to lead anywhere. He remembers. He remembers the times where you were unsure and all too worried of the words of others—and here you were, with him and with your gentle and loving soul, the embodiment of comfort as you tell him the words he’s always known but needs to be reminded of.

“I love you,” he says quietly as you grin widely at him, “Sorry for—you know.”

You roll your eyes, lifting your leg to get off his lap as you wince at the cum that threatens to escape your lips.

“I mean, it was kind of hot,” you shrug with a small smirk.

“God, I’ve created a monster,” Jungkook snorts, looking over at you when you shoot him a devious grin.

“You love it,” you throw back cheekily, leaning into his shoulder as he wraps an arm around you with a sigh.

He does. And he knows that he’s the only one that you’ll love back.

#bad boy good thing #bbgt #bts #bts fics #bts series #bad boy good thing drabbles #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x oc #bts fanfiction #jungkook scenario #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook

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seaofghouls · 3 years

Text

DELTARUNE CHAPTER 2 SPOILERS!!

spamton x reader

You swiftly made your way out of the mansion for the day with a smile on your face. Hm.. It wouldn’t hurt to stop by the tea shop on the way back, would it? A nice treat. Ah, The Addisons. Had the best products money could buy. Though, none could top Mr. Spamton’s sales. He went missing years ago, however.

The smile on your face diminished as you thought about it. You were fairly close to him, when he lived in the mansion. There were two head butlers, you and Swatch. You both managed Color Cafe and ordered the Swatchlings around, as well as attending to Queen’s bidding. Both of you had been fairly busy as of late, with the lightners arrival.

You almost didn’t even realize that you had arrived at your destination, enveloped in your thoughts. Tea.. that’s right. Mayhaps you should pick up some cake as well.

“Good evening, [Name]! To what do I owe the pleasure of pleasing the head butler?” Pink greeted.

“Hello, Pink! I’ve come to pick up some tea and maybe some cake.” You smiled at him.

“And I thought I told you that my status doesn’t affect anything outside of work. You don’t have to make such a big deal out of it.” You sighed.

“Keep telling yourself that, but you’re much more important than you may think.” Pink said.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” You huffed.

“Anywho, got any new tea flavors?” You asked.

“I do indeed! Believe it or not, four new flavors have been shipped in with the arrival of the lightners. Kris, Susie, Ralsei and Noelle.” Pink said.

“Hm.. Noelle sounds good. Queen’s peon, I believe. She’s a delight.” You hummed.

Pink prepared your tea as you talked about her.

“Always talking about that Susie girl. Ah, young love. It’s refreshing, to say the least.” You smiled.

Pink hummed in agreement. “And did you want any cake?”

“Oh, yes, of course, just give me the usual flavor.” You said.

“She’s so timid but when she speaks her mind, it’s a sight to see. She’s so sweet, especially to Birdley. Which.. I find it a bit complexing based on their relations.” You continued on.

“I see. Here’s your items.” Pink handed the tea and cake to you and you payed him back.

“Thanks, Pink. Man, I should get going. It’s getting late.” You said, looking at the time.

“Well, I’ll be off. Good night, Pink!” You waved.

“Good night!” The Addison smiled.

You dropped your bags on the counter in your apartment and sighed. It’s been a long day. Plopping down on the couch, you sighed contently and turned on the television. You could probably order some food or whatever. You didn’t really feel like cooking.

You groaned in annoyance as your phone rang.

“..Hello?”

“Oh [Name] Sugar Honey Sweetie Gravy Pie!”

“Ah, hey Queen. It’s.. afterhours. Did you need something?” You sat up.

“I’m Terribly Sorry But I Need You To Come Back To The Mansion. I Can’t Find The Lightners And I Need Both You And Swatch.” She said.

Of course.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on my way. Just sit tight.” You sighed, getting ready.

The city was noisy as ever, cars blocking up certain paths. You made your way into the mansion eventually, though. Swatch was waiting for you when you entered.

“So, we’re on a goose hunt from what I understand?” You asked, looking at them.

“It would seem that way, yes. The Swatchlings are maintaining the shop, so for now, let’s split up to find them.” Swatch said.

“Is Queen sure they’re even here?” You asked.

“Why Yes I’m Absolutely Positive [Name]!” Queen said, seemingly materializing out of thin air.

You would be surprised, but this tends to happen a lot.

“..Alright. Better get going then. Break a leg.” You said with a grin.

“I could say the same to you.” Swatch returned your expression.

You looked and looked around your selected areas of the mansion but with no trace of anything yet. You shouldn’t be surprised, it is a mansion after all. You arrived upon a door, leading into the basement. Hearing destruction entailing within, you decided to check it out. Sounds like a commotion, so it’s likely that they’re here.

What are they fighting? You had not the slightest clue. The basement was dark and damp. You simply followed the sound of the commotion. Kris, Susie and Ralsei were at the edge of the room and Kris was kneeled down.

“There you guys are! Finally. That took forever to find you.” You smiled.

“Woah, are they okay?” You paused.

“KRIS!! YOU HAVE FRIENDS! WHY DON’T YOU TELL THEM ABOUT MY [ 3 for One Specil!!]” Someone cackled.

They were all scooped up in coasters, You were bunked with Ralsei.

“HOLY-!” You gasped out at the figure in front of you.

Your good friend, who had gone missing years ago, except he was eleven feet tall and a robot, attached by strings.

“..SPAMTON?!” Your jaw dropped.

Ralsei closed your jaw with his paw. “Will you help us??”

“Yeah. Y-Yeah! Of course. Gotta reserve your energy for Queen.” You said, trying to brush off your initial shock.

Spamton cackled like a madman. “[HEAVEN], ARE YOU WATCHING??”

“Totally helps with the knowledge that my best friend who went missing forever ago is trying to kill us.” You said sarcastically.

The four of you worked together to snap the wires attached to Spamton. There were a lot, however.

“Heaven?? Big Shots? What the hell are you talking about?” You asked in confusion.

“DON’T YOU SEE [NAME]?? THIS IS THE [Key] TO FREEDOM!” He cackled.

“Yeah, except it’s not.” You rolled your eyes.

The air crackled with freedom, supposedly. You kept going, following Kris’s command until the last wire remained.

“WAIT!! [$!?!] THE PRESSES! MY WIRES! THEY’RE ALMOST GONE?? I’M BEING GIFTED MY FREEDOM??” Spamton paused.

“That’s what we’ve been trying to accomplish this entire time, yes.” You said.

“I SEE!! THE MOST IMPORTANT DEAL OF ALL! FRIENDSHIP!!” He cried.

“I’LL LIVE FOR MYSELF!! MYSELF AND MY FRIENDS!! CUT THAT LAST WIRE!!” He cheered.

You grinned and nodded at the others.

One final act.

The wire was sliced and the robot crashed to the floor. When the smoke cleared, Spamton was encased in vines. Much smaller than he was before.

You approached him slowly.

The others stayed back.

You untangled him from the vines and had a slight frown as you held him, almost like a little kid.

“It appears all that I could be was a simple puppet. I do hope you’ll be able to free yourself. Do what I couldn’t.” He sighed.

He gave the group a Black Crystal.

“C’mon, Spamton. We’re going home.” You said.

“Work can wait.” You took a breath.

…

“So you found them and someone else, hm?” Swatch said, after you met back up with them in Color Cafe.

Spamton had fallen asleep. That battle took a lot out of him.

“Yup. Now I’m gonna take some well deserved time off.” You grinned.

“For how long?” They asked.

“Maybe two days to a week. Depends on how he’s doing.” You said, referring to Spamton.

“Be safe, won’t you?” Swatch gave a soft smile.

“I always am.” You smiled back.

You pet Spamton’s hair on the way back home and sighed with content.

You finally had him back.

#deltarune chapter 2 #deltarune #deltarune x reader #spamton x reader

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mythicamagic · 3 years

Text

Fangs of Silver: Sesskag oneshot

Summary: Kagome Higurashi has her work cut out for her, hunting one of the most elusive and powerful werewolves known to man: the Killing Perfection. Sesskag smut oneshot. Werewolf Sesshoumaru/monster hunter Kagome.

Rated M

Words: 4,700

Read on Ao3 and Dokuga

AN: for @cookieasylum for an art trade. Thanks bud! Hope you like it

Fangs of Silver

Warning: werewolf x human smut, knotting, menstrual sex

---

Two fingers unfurled to touch the moonlit forest floor, tracing the outline of a large paw-print stamped into dirt. Even splaying her palm wide with four fingers and thumb outstretched, Kagome couldn't hope to meet its size, dwarfed in comparison.

"Looks like I've found you again," she muttered, straightening from her crouch. Walking onwards and listening out for any hint of movement within the imposing woods- tall anorexic trees completely still with sharp looking branches- blue eyes remained alert, watchful.

She'd been tracking this one for God knew how long now. Months. Had it been a year yet? Though even the smallest victory of finding his tracks left no time for celebration.

Kagome frowned to herself. This particular beast wasn't usually so careless. He evaded her during daylight hours by wading through streams or keeping to rocky terrain, never giving the same name when mingling with villagers. Even when the Full Moon hit- he managed to be elusive and surprisingly clever. The smartest one she'd been sent to hunt. This time he'd either been sloppy or…

Kagome glimpsed something through a gap in the lower trees, located further down the hill. Smoke?

Surely he wasn't trying to trap her with something so obvious.

Frowning, Kagome set down her weapon and snuffed out the flames of her torch, checking her supplies. Enough silver bullets. Enough jewel shards. Her guns were in good shape, but she was out of herbal supplements to repress a certain annoyance that also occurred every month. Wincing, she put a hand to her lower abdomen, feeling it cramp.

Crap, not now.

She'd have to ignore it. She couldn't afford to lose this guy due to Mother Nature kicking her continually in the gut.

This beast had committed countless acts of violence- leaving behind a trail of bodies in their respective towns and villages. Unlike usual werewolves who sloppily left bitten survivors to run amok, this beast made no mistakes. He seemed to kill specific people and left them firmly for dead. He never inflicted the curse upon anyone. Surprisingly his victims were usually reported to be less than innocent citizens.

Due to the killings- a bounty had been placed on what the authorities referred to as 'the Killing Perfection.'

Creeping down a steep incline, Kagome stepped as lightly as possible within the relative darkness of the trees -autumn leaves crunching beneath her boots.

A lonesome house in the woods stood like a mourner in a graveyard under the light of the Full Moon, dark wood faintly eroded by time. Vines held the chimney in a stranglehold, but smoke puffing out of the top revealed it to be in working order despite the dilapidated state of the house.

Slipping around the side of the building and ducking out of sight from any windows, Kagome stopped with her back to the wall, loading her rifle while stooped into a crouch.

Taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, Kagome wasted no time. She pushed off and rounded the corner, kicking open the front door with the barrel of her gun trained inside.

Empty?

Kagome didn't let her guard down, slowly inching inside and glancing around.

The fireplace was lit with healthy flames- a kettle sat off to the side, an empty mug not too far away. Everything else in the room had a layer of dust costing it, but the armchair lay newly cleaned. Footprints trailed around the ashen floor, some human, some wolf prints.

Kagome searched the lower floor that comprised of mostly empty rooms, before pointing her gun up towards the stairs, setting foot on the first step.

It groaned loudly beneath her weight.

Wincing, blue eyes snapped to the top of the dark stairs for any tell-tale signs of movement.

Wandering up to the second floor cautiously and looking around revealed nothing more than dust bunnies.

Kagome frowned, eyeing the open window. Had he jumped down and escaped?

Sighing with disappointment, she shouldered her gun and trailed downstairs.

I suppose I can sweep the outside to pick up his trail again, but I bet he's long gone. He probably lit the chimney to distract me before making his escape and transforming for the night.

Wandering over to the kettle, she touched its side.

Still lukewarm. He'd literally just been there.

And I was too late.

Kagome groaned.

"What a disappointed noise. Were you aching to see me that badly?"

Stiffening, her heart jumped. The silky sounding words had come from behind her.

Pivoting on one heel, Kagome turned her weapon on the man lounging in the armchair.

His image blurred, snatching up her gun to lurch the barrel upwards just as she fired, the blast piercing the ceiling- some debris raining down.

Golden eyes sparked, snapping the barrel in two before throwing her to the floor with impressive strength.

Kagome gasped, back colliding hard with the wooden floors, winded. She quickly grabbed one of her pistols and trained it on the man- who had disappeared again.

"W-what?" she panted. "It's a Full Moon. Why haven't you transformed?"

"Ah, you wish for me to change? Very well," his voice rumbled from outside.

Fur blocked out the moonlight pouring in from the shutters, brushing along the side of the house. Quiet, hungry panting filled her ears.

Kagome quickly fired at the windows, but the shadows melted away, causing her to wonder if it had been a trick of the light.

"I heard tell of a woman who subdues my kind before using shards of a blessed jewel to revert them back into humans…"

Paws padded around the house, nails dragging- scraping the forest floor. "You have pursued me for some time. Did you hope to transform me into a mortal like those you have hunted before me? Break my curse?" the male uttered.

"I knew you were strong, so I didn't have much hope of using them. Taking you back alive to stand trial for all the things you've done is a tall order," Kagome grunted, lower stomach clenching. She quietly hissed. Cycle blood likely marred her trousers now.

"Indeed. Even if you shot me with one of your infamous jewels though, it would not work."

A figure bent down, twisting through the front door with the ease of a feline through bars. Sleek silver fur gleamed with a fiery hue, bathed in the hearth's orange light.

Saliva dripped from exposed canines, muzzle pulled back.

The werewolf towered over her in size. He had the look of a distorted wolf- pale torso resembling a man due to broad shoulders and defined abdomen. He shifted to stand upright, hind legs strong, capable of supporting his weight. Thick hackles rose, paws more akin to hands tipped with killer claws.

Unlike the other beasts she'd faced, this one had peculiar red markings slashing over his cheeks, lower legs and flank. Glowing red eyes burned with the heat of the sun.

"You unknowingly came in search of a Pure Blood. I cannot be 'fixed' little hunter. This is how I was born," he purred, mouth unmoving, whispering honeyed words in her mind.

Those eyes strayed down to her legs, nostrils flaring. "And you are in heat, no less. A fine time to go hunting for a predator."

Kagome shivered, raising her pistol and aiming it between his eyes.

The werewolf gazed at her calmly, completely different from the wild, almost rabid beasts she'd fought with before.

A Pure Blood…

She'd never come across a creature so ancient. He looked at her with intelligence, as she'd suspected from tracking him.

"I-I'm not in heat," she muttered, finger grazing the trigger without pulling it. Why wasn't he attacking?

"You hurt those townspeople. Why?"

"I walk among men in my other form. Occasionally I find those deserving of death. Those who harm their cubs and mates. Those who leech of their pack and drink themselves into violent stupors. Sometimes they simply get in my way."

Kagome grit her teeth, "so you dispense justice alone? I don't disagree with cruel people deserving some kind of consequences but you don't get to decide who lives and dies. That's playing God."

He chuckled inside her mind, mouth pulling back from sharp teeth in an imitation of a smile. "Is what you do so different, little hunter?"

"I follow the orders of my superiors- unless I think someone can be saved with the jewels I bless."

Interest brightened his gaze, tail swishing once behind him.

Her only warning.

The beast knocked her arms to one side, striking her down with a headbutt to her chest. The action sent her gun skittering away over dusty floorboards, disappearing into harsh shadows. One human-like forepaw pressed down on Kagome's stomach, making her breath wheeze free from frozen lungs- his other holding her right arm down to keep her pinned. He then leaned in close, white ears perked atop his head.

A white maw drifted over her startled face, nostrils flaring, inhaling her scent greedily.

"Holy powers…" he uttered thoughtfully.

Kagome's left hand fumbled with the hem of her shirt, eyes narrowing. "I'm a former sister of the church. It comes in handy when dealing with creatures that go bump in the night."

She abruptly thrust her formally concealed dagger up, aiming it straight for his heart.

Powerful jaws snapped down, locking around her arm- the beast hissing as her blade ran off course but scraped down his neck and shoulder.

Kagome yelped, dagger freezing. Her hand remained free outside of the cage of teeth but she dared not move. Teeth mouthed her arm without breaking the skin, until a particularly sharp canine made a trail of crimson leak down the inside of her wrist.

A large, wet tongue roved, licking and sliding over the length of her elbow and wrist while they lay trapped within the hot cavern of his mouth.

"Now we have both shed blood tonight, little hunter. Are you satisfied?"

Kagome panted, gritting blunt teeth. She glared hotly into large red eyes fixed on her, looming close. From the new proximity, she could now see his seafoam green irises and slit pupils from within the sea of crimson. They dilated the longer she looked.

"You are quite the woman," he rumbled appreciatively. "What name do you go by?"

"K-kagome."

"Hn, I am Sesshoumaru. I thank you for your relentless pursuit of me over these past few months. It was quite flattering."

Kagome opened her mouth to reply before a hiss broke her off. The clenching of her abdomen took up attention for a moment, twisting like a knife in her gut.

"Heat can be painful to go through alone," he acknowledged, teeth slowly easing from her arm, eyes trained on her warningly not to try anything. His slick tongue unwrapped itself from her arm with a trail of saliva. He licked his maw hungrily.

Kagome gripped her sticky arm, glaring from her position on the floor. No bite. Just a nick from his tooth. It wouldn't be enough to curse her. She warily lowered her dagger.

"It's just my monthly cycle. I'm fine...gn…"

"You seem it," he mocked, wolf expression unchanging, though his eyes danced.

His great head lowered, hovering over her groin. His nose drew closer, inhaling over the red patch. His long pink tongue slid out, drawing over it with a lingering lick.

Kagome yelped, forgetting her guns and blades- grasping the dense white fur of his neck. "W-what are you doing?!"

He managed to look suggestive without human features, tipping his head slightly. "As a hunter, it must be difficult to find relief. You are always working, are you not? Chasing evil…" his voice resounded with the finest baritone in her mind, coaxing and soothing, completely at odds with his monstrous appearance. He almost sounded aristocratic. "Fortunately...you happen to lie beneath a beast tonight."

Saliva, warm and dewy, dropped onto her leg in small puddles. Sesshoumaru gazed at her while snaking his tongue out once more, prying it harder between her legs.

Kagome gasped, back-arching, a rush spilling up from her cunt to twist sweet arousal at her core. She viciously clamped down on such a reaction, growling.

"No one gave you permission to take liberties with me, pal!" she drew her knee up, attempting to kick him away.

Sesshoumaru released her arm in favour of grasping her thigh, chuckling while forcing it down. "Why protest?"

Kagome snatched up her dagger again, pressing the hilt against her chest and keeping the point raised outwards.

"Why agree?! Y-you're a…" wide blue eyes flicked over his strange, inhuman body. "I've never- n-not with a werewolf. I'm pretty sure that's breaking some sort of rule. Or law."

"I will not tell a soul."

Her gaze turned flat, fingers shifting over the hilt. "I'm supposed to be killing you. We just tried to kill each other!"

"Hn, keep your friends close and enemies closer, as they say. Allowing them into your bed does not seem like such an extreme, and I find there is always a slight thrill in fighting, is there not?"

It was a night of firsts. Kagome had never experienced anything like it in her five years of hunting. None of her superiors had ever mentioned an intelligent werewolf who could control their transformation and shapeshift at will. The only whisper of it had come from dusty old books stashed away in catacombs. The air in the lonely house felt cold, tickling her skin like a living thing, but the space between Hunter and Werewolf crackled with intensity.

Kagome swallowed, feeling squirmy. She tensed when a wet nose came back up to sniff at her neck. Warm breath fanned over flushed skin as his snout travelled up and down, scenting. It soon buried itself within dark hair, making her gasp. The suggestion of teeth scraped the crown of her head, joined by a pleased, rumbling noise. Goosebumps rose on her exposed skin, blood burning, alight with confused but obvious need.

His alien, paw-like hand ran over her hip and breast, cupping the side of her jaw. The shock of thin fur and monstrous, long fingers tipped with claws should've terrified her. Kagome had fought against such hands for years. Her body held traces of scars where such nails had hooked and dragged into supple flesh.

As it was, when his second stroked her inner thigh, Kagome shuddered. He smelled faintly of clove and damp earth. His movements were deliberate. The inferno of his eyes when they locked with hers shone with hunger- but also curiosity. That mindfulness and clarity of his thoughts was what allowed her to hesitantly touch the hand on her thigh.

It felt too large and gangly to be a human, fur and heat brushing the calloused skin of her palm.

"You can't bite me," she warned, laying the flat of her blade against his neck. "I'll kill you if you do- and that'll instantly free me from the curse."

Sesshoumaru smiled with his eyes.

He forced her down again, claws making quick work of her pants, tearing a sizable hole at the crotch.

The wiry fur of his muzzle immediately dived down, fervently taking in her scent with hearty, eager inhales. It sent a rush of arousal straight through her, hips jolting.

Nose, teeth and tongue soon brushed her sex, before the latter thrust inside, heedless of the blood.

Kagome cried out, toes curling, going completely still. The invasive probing between her legs filled her entrance, sinking deeper. It then flicked outside, allowing her to feel the velvet rough texture. It swirled experimentally over her clit.

Shakily tightening her now slippery grip on the dagger, Kagome gasped and shuddered.

"I-I thought you were going to transform into a man-!"

Sesshoumaru gave a rumbling noise in response. He gripped the front of her blouse, yanking to rip it open and fondle her breast.

"You do not wish to see the creature you've hunted feasting on you?" the rumbling purr lifted into something darkly amused, tail flicking behind him.

He grabbed her hips, swivelling them to flip her over. Kagome yelped and snarled, about to protest when his palms kneaded her ass, raising it and tearing off the remainder of her pants- the pads of his thumbs dragging to her sex, spreading slick folds and delving a warm, thick tongue inside her all the deeper.

Kagome kept a needless grip on the dagger, a strangled noise caught in her throat. His muzzle nudged and pried, urging her to rock against his tongue. Feeling warm, she clumsily grasped at her coat, yanking her arms free and tossing it aside.

Full breasts were squashed to the floor under the weight of the werewolf as he pressed her down, but her nipples- stiff and hardened with pleasure- received friction from the steady rhythm. The pleasure came in small, electric bursts.

"Fuck," she groaned, biting her lip. This was wrong. She shouldn't allow this.

A clawed thumb rubbing at the sensitive bundle of nerves between her thighs silenced that weak protest. It felt good. So deliciously good. Men scarcely put their mouth on her down there, deeming it 'dirty' or beneath them.

Kagome shivered, pushing back against the roving tongue continually thrusting inside her core, flexibly twisting, rubbing against her inner walls and licking with heinous, grunting noises like she slaked his thirst. They found a kind of rhythm without communicating through words, and an incredible rush built in her stomach- delighted to rock against his mouth.

Bowing her head and trying to concentrate on breathing, Kagome jolted and shamelessly moaned as his movements became more relentless, hungrily collecting evidence of her arousal and cycle onto his tongue.

"W-why-?" she managed out, straining to look at him over her shoulder- the tongue plunging faster in quick delves like he were mining for gold- sharp teeth scraping her entrance, adding rapidly to the throbbing feeling building up in her lower stomach.

Why was he pleasuring her? It didn't align with a wild beasts actions.

Blue eyes glimpsed glowing crimson behind her. With a sudden push of his humanoid paw on her back, trapping her in place- Kagome squealed loudly as Sesshoumaru pried so deep he wore her like a puppet with his tongue, grunting with savage satisfaction when she came from the action.

"Agh!" Kagome cried out, body igniting, juices immediately flowing into his mouth, which he collected enthusiastically with broad strokes. Somewhere between all this, she lost grip on her weapon. The blade clanked against the floors loudly.

After pulling away, the werewolf paid no heed to the red staining his lips, licking at his jaw in a decadent, gluttonous manner.

"Why what?" Sesshoumaru sat back on his haunches, ears perking, haughtily eyeing her with an air of pride. He probably took great pleasure in reducing a hunter to such a vulnerable mess.

Kagome felt like she'd received her answer. "Never mind," she caught her breath, forehead dotted with sweat. Her muscles burned despite the lack of physical exertion, body feverishly warm.

She sat up slowly, wincing at the slick feeling of her cunt. It fluttered and clenched, demanding more- wanting to be filled.

"I feel better now. We can end things there and-"

Kagome caught an eyeful of his crotch, entranced by the hard evidence of his arousal.

Oh.

She swallowed, reading the look in his eye easily. They wouldn't be stopping anytime soon. From the look of his long, thick cock, they'd be spending a while easing it in if he were committed to pleasuring her.

Somehow she felt alright with that. The fever in her veins wasn't satisfied yet, though she had reservations about allowing a literal werewolf to take her. However something undeniable had come to life in the pit of her gut, something raw and hot that left her wet between her legs and wordlessly begging.

Sesshoumaru's claws closed around her ankle, dragging her towards him- her ass coming to meet his twitching cock.

"I do not think you have unwound nearly enough. You must expel all pent up frustrations if you are to continue hunting me. I worry you will fall behind if not- your tracking has become sloppy lately."

Kagome whipped her head up and growled- just as the head of his cock nestled at her entrance, cutting off the noise and sending it choking. Blushing, she reached behind her, spreading herself for him- holding herself open while Sesshoumaru gave that jagged flash of teeth in response, slipping his thick length inside her inch by inch.

Whimpering and dropping her hands, Kagome bowed forward, trying to adjust. He sank even deeper. The sheer slickness between her thighs helped but didn't assuage the terrible stretch that threatened to overwhelm her. He was too big, his large and hairy body towering over hers, encasing her back with the furnace heat of his body.

"Ease yourself back against me- slowly," panting breath fanned over her damp neck. She felt him run an almost affectionate feeling lick up the sensitive shell of her ear. "Relax. This body was built to withstand many things," his palm stroked a path over her navel, circling up her hip where a scar lay. "You will not allow me to dominate you so easily, will you, Kagome?"

Panting, Kagome tried to get used to feeling every inch of him inside her, filling her clenching walls to the brim.

His hands were three times the size of hers, one settling beside her on the floor. The way he loomed over her made the formally fearless woman feel small, crushable.

"H-ha! As if," she shakily replied. Not one to give in, Kagome did as instructed, slowly rocking back against him just like before. She winced. The sensation was much fuller and tighter, uncomfortable.

Sesshoumaru hissed and groaned, rubbing at her clit again to shoot tiny bursts of fireworks through her system. It helped coax some pleasure back into things. Kagome gave a shaky moan.

Sensing her change in enjoyment, the wolf began moving.

She cried out, wincing a little at his slight withdraw- before groaning as he eased back in, creating a slow, building pace.

The thick, soft fur that covered him from crown to foot gleamed in the light of the room. Kagome could feel it hot against her back, tickling her skin. The strands began to stick to flushed flesh. Sweat began to bead, rolling down her shoulder blades.

"You take me very well, for a human," Sesshoumaru nosed at her hair.

"I can't say 'taking a cock' nicely is the highest compliment ever, but- thanks," Kagome panted. He gave an amused huff, giving a hard thrust in response that knocked her forward.

Yelping, she grabbed onto the first available thing. Her breath caught when her fingers met soft, warm fur. His arm.

It felt sturdy amidst the sea of sensations. Kagome held tighter onto it, bracing herself. She could sense the control beginning to slip from her new bedmate.

Sesshoumaru growled ferally, fanning hot, sticky breath over her shoulders. He then slammed inside her- ramming his hard cock completely within.

Letting out a loud, startled cry that bordered on a scream, Kagome bit down on his arm. He set a brutal pace, thrusting his cock with a quickness that blinded her. She squeezed her eyes shut so tight stars burst behind her eyelids.

Strands of dark hair stuck to her forehead, the rest bouncing and swaying with the werewolf's chosen pace: hard and merciless.

She sank her teeth harder into Sesshoumaru's arm, but he was completely silent inside her mind now. Whatever debonair and lofty charm he possessed had been shoved far back into the recesses of his consciousness, replaced with raw primal need and heavy grunts. He sought to fuck, and Kagome found herself mewling receptively, weakly rocking back against him.

With a snarl, he yanked his arm free from her teeth- rearing back onto his haunches and dragging Kagome with him, holding her hips while continually rutting into her.

Kagome went completely speechless in both pain and pleasure. The new angle nestled onto his lap with the steel band of his arms wrapped around her waist allowed him to reach new depths.

Letting out mindless moans, she rested her head back against his furry shoulder, body ablaze, cunt squeezing him deliciously. The arms holding her prisoner forced her to meet each thrust, creating an intense friction inside that brought her into a state of begging. "P-please- more. Fuck-! More, I'm so close, please!"

Sesshoumaru gave guttural snarls and rumbles in response. But there was something strange happening with his cock. She could feel it even while held under the haze of pleasure. Nudging up against her entrance, something thicker than his length and more rounded threatened to push inside. His knot.

Kagome couldn't react- distracted by another orgasm ripping through her at the most inopportune time.

The knot swelled and stretched her sex farther than she'd anticipated. With a jolt of his hips, Sesshoumaru followed her into orgasm, throwing his head back in a deafening snarl. A torrent of cum flooded her, painting her inner walls- all locked in by the werewolf's knot.

Kagome jolted and strained, mouth opening in a wordless scream. Full. She felt too full. Her sex strained, still squeezing him like a vice.

Slowly, his voice drifted back into her head. "Very good...worthy female...powerful. Should claim..."

"S-sesshoumaru?" she croaked weakly, limp in his arms.

A silver muzzle nuzzled the side of her head in response, crooning lowly. "Hn?"

"You uh..." Kagome panted, giving a weak gesture of her wrist, trying to rise and finding it impossible. He was quite literally locked inside her. "You knotted me- shouldn't you have pulled out?"

She wasn't concerned about being pupped- she'd handled dodging pregnancy with herbal aid before. However, like this, it made moving away impossible.

"Why would this one do that?"

Blue eyes blinked, shifting up to him. His fur plastering against her skin felt like a feathery bed cushioning her spine. "Because now we're stuck, for who knows how long. A few minutes to 30. I figured you'd..."

Want to get away. Re-establish our roles as enemies.

He acted the same as always. She couldn't anticipate his movements or read him.

A sinuous tongue she'd now become intimately acquainted with slid up her cheek. The fur receded at her back, and Kagome stiffened with alarm.

When she turned slightly, she found herself gazing at the pale, handsome features of a man. His markings remained, branding him as something inhuman despite the skin, pretty fall of hair and stern sweep of his brow.

"I intend to have you many times," Sesshoumaru uttered out loud, sounding much crisper in the quiet room. "In a multitude of ways."

Kagome opened her mouth to reply, gasping when a tongue thrust inside her mouth. Grunting, she managed to return the dominating press of tongue and teeth, biting his lip for good measure and feeling him shiver.

When he began moving again while locked inside her, she fell into the murky waters of arousal once more.

-----

The morning sunlight peeking through the broken blinds brought many aches and pains with it. Kagome heard the front door shut, footsteps drawing away before falling silent.

Sitting up quickly, a fur throw fell from her shoulders. It pooled in her lap, revealing the full extent of fresh scratches and claw marks littering her nude body, along with bruises.

She winced at the stickiness between her legs. The smell of sex overwhelmed the stuffy room. So it wasn't a dream.

Noticing a steaming mug of green tea sitting before the lit fireplace loaded with newly chopped wood, Kagome tentatively reached out to touch it. Still warm.

He must've just left.

Running her hands up and down her flesh, she found no bite marks. He'd stayed true to his word.

Feeling a little complicated, Kagome blinked upon noticing a letter sitting atop a fresh change of clothes on the armchair. Her weapons were also neatly arranged nearby.

Picking up the parchment, blue eyes flitted over the message.

'Pursue me once more, my hunter. I enjoyed feasting on you.'

Kagome pressed her lips together. She shook herself a little. This was still the enemy, nothing had changed despite a thoroughly pleasurable night. In the privacy of the room however, she allowed herself a small smile.

After eating, washing and dressing for the day, Kagome stepped outside.

Securing her weapons, she gave chase.

End

#sesskag #Sesshoumaru x Kagome #sesskag fanfiction #werewolf smut #monster boyfriend

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fivelakesinwriting · 3 years

Note

Hi love your Barry content ( he deserves all the love). Could you possibly write something about Barry only being soft for his girl and his girl only. Or even him being super protective over her when a kook/or pogue hits on her

Author's Notes: Thank you so much, lovely - the character of Barry is so interesting to me, and I'm so happy you enjoy my content surrounding him. If this was your request - I hope you love it xoxo

Warnings: Guns, Mentions of drugs, Swearing, Sexual references - Sexual innuendos, Violence.

Requested? YES! Requests for OBX are OPEN!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

Vulnerable wasn't a state that came natural to him. Perhaps as a child, but he didn't really remember back that far. He was a soldier and he had to be tough, show no emotion. Don't get attached, it's just easier that way.

Even when he came home he found he didn't attach himself to many people. Or perhaps, there just weren't too many people around he wanted to cling to. He always had his back up around people. If they didn't get to know him, then he didn't get to know them and then his heart never got broken.

Until Her.

There wasn't really a timeline for their relationship, or when she started coming around. If he was honest, it all started to blend together. One day she wasn't there and the next she was. On his couch, perched on his lap with her fingers in his hair and her sweet voice in his ear.

Barry thought she was the sweetest girl in the world. Too sweet to be hanging around with drug dealing scum like him. Too soft, sweet and all around precious to be hanging around with a guy like him. Tripping over a loaded gun every step she took. She would give him those gentle, knowing eyes after she had gathered herself.

I know this is who you are, baby.

It was her unwavering love, patience and support of him for exactly who he was that helped him break his own walls down bit by bit. The way she didn't mind that his house was messy, all types of people from different walks of life knocking on his door. Or how she let him rest his head on her chest after a particularly long day, her fingers twisting the loose lock of hair the hung in his face.

Barry, quite simply, felt like he would die for her if it came down to it. He wasn't sure why he would ever find himself that in position, or why his sweet girlfriend, content on spending her nights cuddled on the couch with him or buried between the pages of book, would ever put either of them in that position.

But he would go down in flames for his woman.

"Baby?" Her voice was soft behind him as he sat at the table out in the sun-room, weighing out bags. His heart skipped a beat, and he felt like a teenager getting caught with his first dime-bag of weed.

"Hey. I was just finishin' up in here. Won't be long." He muttered with a clear of his throat as he turned in his chair to see her standing in the doorway, fiddling with the hem of her dress.

"Are we still going for a walk on the beach today?" She inquired, so sugary sweet it was a shock to his system. He felt dizzy, lightheaded.

Barry stood up, his work completely forgotten at her question. He had promised her that he would take her to the beach. A simple request, but he preferred to say "low profile" and the beach seemed like the least low profile place of all. But if she asked him, he would oblige without question.

"Yeah. Can go now, if you want." Barry nodded as he wiped his hands off on the back of his shorts before he reached for her hands. No part of his life, his work, would touch her. He still didn't know why she chose a life with him, but he took it day by beautiful day.

She took the small steps forward so her bare toes touched the tips of work boots, her hands reaching for his to lace their fingers. Barry looked down at their feet, passed their hands interlocked, at her little painted toes. It would take him a while to admit out loud that the bright colours she painted her toes made him just a little bit weak. The way she curled her toes against his shins when they were in bed together, or even the gentle way she rubbed the flats of her feet against his own to stay warm at night.

It made him remember he was still alive.

Barry loathed the beach. So many tourists, unhappy kids and parents, sun burnt and drunk college kids who just didn't know when to call it quits. All of it was terrible, but he didn't seem to notice all of those distractions so much when he was with her. Playfully kicking water at her as they walked the shoreline, a soft kiss to her forehead now and then. He wasn't too fond of large displays of affection, they seemed grotesque to him. A kiss to the forehead, or the squeeze of the hand was more than enough for him.

The looks of the frat guys around them didn't go unnoticed by the soldier. He was acutely aware of everything that was going on around them. He knew the toddler at the top of the hill, near the food truck, was going to fall the minute it started run. He could see it in his brain before it happened. He saw the teen girls ahead, and to the left of them, battling over who got to take the photo to commemorate the day.

And he saw the group of Kooks, more than one of them could be called a regular customer, eyes zeroed in on Barry and his girl slowly walking down the shoreline. He could see their lips moving, but he couldn't hear anything. A Kook Goon Squad, clad in overpriced bathing suits and Oakley's. He hated them, every last one of them.

"Here. Think that ice cream truck over there has that ice for little kids you like. Take this, I'll be right there." Barry grumbled as he reached into the back pocket of his shorts and pulling out his wallet.

"Super Hero ice cream is not for little kids, Barry." She scoffed, but graciously accepted his wallet with a peck on his cheek before she took off with a run through the water, splashing up her thighs.

Barry ran his hand over his chin as he made sure his love far enough away before he turned on his heel and stalked over to the Kooks beneath a beach umbrella, attempting to tap a keg.

"...too hot for him, though. I met her at this party a year ago but no deal. She's loyal as shit to him, dude."

The conversation made Barry vibrate with anger. She had told him about that party and how some guy had been unruly with her, would not leave her alone.

"The only way he could have been closer to me is if he had been inside of me. He was so creepy."

Barry clenched his fists as he made the last few steps up to the group of Kooks, ready to strike. He pulled his fist back, the blood in his head blocking out any other sounds than the pure rage he felt at the disrespect they were speaking about his girlfriend.

Barry pulled his elbow back and connected his fist with the Kook's jaw, unannounced. Not the most fair punch he's ever doled out, but he didn't think that hitting on another man's girlfriend was exactly fair either. He wasn't sure if it was the sheer force of his punch, or the fact that it was unexpected - perhaps a bit of both - but the Kook was knocked off of his feet, and onto his back.

"So, you like hitting on girls with boyfriend's? Being persistent? Man, if I was as persistent as you, I'd probably having my fucking money from your ass by now." Barry growled as he crouched down in the sand beside the boy as he groaned, clutching his jaw.

"Leave my girl alone, asshole." Barry spat as he stood up, glaring at the friends that stood helpless around the Kook writhing on the ground.

Barry walked away from the rich kids with too much time and money to spare, and found his girl at the front of the line for ice cream. He let out a deep breath as he wiped off his raw, bloody knuckle on the underside of his shirt.

"Hi, baby. You're just in time. I got stuck behind a group of like, ten kids. Do you want something?" She smiled as he walked up behind her and gently placed his hands on her hip as not to scare her.

"Nah. Share yours." He replied softly as he leaned in to press another kiss to her forehead.

"See? Super Hero ice cream isn't just for kids."

Hotties:

@vintageobx @starkey-babie @fashion-fasting @barrysjumpsuit @babeyglo @rottenstyx @pogueslandia @whcclxr @soph0864

@beauvibaby @plutooryectors @sodasback

*tag list is open, please let me know if I forgot you or you would like to be added/removed from particular posts. I've removed the people that don't pre-populate :(

Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you so much xoxo

Requests for OBX ARE OPEN!

#obx barry #barry x reader #outer banks barry #barry obx #barry obx fluff #barry x reader fluff #barry outer banks #barry baddies #obx barry request #outer banks fluff #outer banks requests #obx barry fluff #outer banks imagines #obx requests #obx fic #obx fanfiction #obx imagine

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nationalharryleague · 4 years

Text

Diplomacy

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers Royal AU

Word count: 12K (I may have gotten carried away)

Warnings: Parental Death, an American writing about monarchies she doesn’t understand

A/N: Hi everyone! I have been working on this one for a while and it’s by far the longest thing I’ve ever written and I am so proud of it (please be nice)!! I also made a Pinterest board with all the outfits from this if you want to check it out here!! SO SO SO much love to @meetmymouth @bfharry and @hardcandy-harry for helping me out when I needed it and being the most wonderful people in general :) As always, thank you so so much for reading!! More of my writing can be found in my masterlist and feedback/reblogs mean the world!!!

****

Y/N knew from the day she could understand the concept of marriage that she would one day be married to the little prince with wild brown curls her mother always forced her to play with. She still vividly remembered the first time he told her that she was ugly and that he hated her. She was only five years old at the time.

Fortunately, she hated him just as much as he hated her. He was rude, somehow always sticky, and seemed to have no filter or manners, letting every nasty thing he could think of fall past his lips in daggers aimed at his future wife.

As they grew older, their animosity only grew, from petty to school yard quarrels to attacks on their personalities and who they were as people. Despite her pleas to her mother to be sent to a different boarding school than the one he was already attending, she was shipped off.

She studied judiciously, what was expected of every future queen, while she watched Harry meander through his schooling. He never seemed to listen in class, never studied, and seemed to only care about football and girls. She watched with jealousy and contempt as he flirted with every girl at their school, every girl except the one he knew he was to marry; while every boy in the school knew Y/N was off limits, direct orders from the crown.

It made her uncomfortable how much she disliked him. She was not a hateful person, having been trained well to treat everyone with dignity and respect, she was a princess after all. But something about Harry just got under her skin. She barely was able to control the instinctive eye roll whenever his name was mentioned and she often pretended to gag when discussing him with her friends, especially when one of them would inevitably call him ‘dreamy.’

The happiest day of her life was the day she watched him graduate, knowing she had been awarded years of peace without having to listen to his taunts or watch him flirt with everything that breathed. During those years, she flourished. She grew from a timid girl in line for power to a confident young woman preparing for the crown. She knew her country through and through, her constitution front to back, and had even begun studying Harry’s country as well. Whether she liked it or not, she knew she would have to pick up his slack in governing his kingdom eventually, she might as well be good at it.

Four more years of education at Cambridge, brought four more years of growth and being free from Harry, but the deal she had made with her mother was quickly coming to a close. As soon as she finished her education, their engagement would be made official and wedding planning would commence. While she was tempted to beg for some sort of delay or escape, she understood this was her duty. She owed this to her people, and soon to Harry’s as well; her mother was counting on her.

For the first time in too many years, she stood inside her former and future home. She remembered running through the halls of the massive palace under the ornate ceilings that now hung above her again; reality was sinking in. Through the massive wooden doors that sat in front of her, she knew her fate awaited; a fate named Harry. With a deep breath she steeled herself and smoothed the blush pink lace skirt of her dress, preparing to see the face that had haunted her for so long.

The first thing she noticed was the playful smirk that she associated so closely with his taunts from when they were children. It was the smirk that made her stomach drop; she could only imagine the nasty things that could come past those lips now. He had years to practice.

He stood confidently next to her mother, who had a bright and triumphant grin on her face. He was dressed in an impeccably tailored forest green suit, decorated with his coat of arms pin on the lapel. She wished for the vibrance of his green eyes to lessen but the tone of his suit only made them more intense than she had remembered.

“Harry,” she breathed, as diplomatically and with as much confidence as she could muster. “It’s good to see you,” she lied, reaching her hand out for him to kiss in the antiquated custom that always made her deeply uncomfortable. He delicately grasped her hand and slowly brought it to his blushed lips, the kiss lingering longer than what could have been considered friendly. His snake-like eyes locked with hers, still containing the mischievous glint she had nightmares about. She couldn’t help but notice the hysterically hopeful smile on her mother’s face as she watched them interact.

“It’s always a pleasure, your highness,” he hummed. He must have remembered how uncomfortable that title made her. She was honestly impressed at how he managed to lie and antagonize her in the first sentence he had said to her in over six years.

“Please call me Y/N,” she instructed as politely as possible.

“As you wish,” he said with a conniving smirk on his face. She had been with him no more than two minutes and she already wanted to run for her life. But this wasn’t about her, her country would need a leader soon, and unfortunately, that had to be her.

Her mother rushed over excitedly between the two, breaking the contemptuous silence that had built between them. “Oh children, it’s so nice to see you two back together again. I remember when you used to play when you were little. Always teasing, like you had the biggest crushes on each other.” ‘Teasing’ is a nice way to refer to torture, Y/N thought to herself, never daring to verbalize a thought like that.

“We did always have fun didn’t we, Y/N?” Harry asked her, a thin glaze of politeness coating his malice.

“Oh yes, we did. I still have a scar on my thigh from when you pushed me off the monkey bars.” Her tone was tight lipped and curt, her politeness beginning to give way to the verbal lashing she was dreaming of giving him.

“You’ll have to show me sometime.”

Y/N’s jaw nearly hit the ground. She knew he was a dirty good for nothing flirt, but in front of her mother? If her mother hadn't gently grasped both of their hands, she would have stomped out of the room. Her mother’s gentle touch brought her mind back to what this was all about once again.

“Harry is going to be staying with us from now on,” her mother interjected, clearly sensing the animosity between them. “Oh, and I nearly forgot! Harry, I believe you have something for Y/N, correct?”

“Of course.” He flashed his charming smiles at her poor mother, “How could I have forgotten about that?”

She watched him intently as he reached for the pocket inside his suit jacket, pulling out a small indigo colored velvet box. He opened the box with delicate hands to reveal one of the most gorgeous engagement rings Y/N had ever seen. A deep green emerald sat inside a ring of crystal clear diamond florets, all placed meticulously with care into a gold setting, the color of the velvet intensifying the emerald stone. “It was my grandmother’s,” he spoke softly, the first time she had ever heard him speak with any emotion or genuine feeling. “Before she died, she said she wanted you to have it. She was the mastermind of this arrangement afterall,” he said with a slight chuckle. “For formality’s sake,” he began with a sigh, “will you marry me?”

No, passed through Y/N’s head, but “Yes” fell from her lips. While her heart broke for herself and any chance she had of finding true love, the smile and happy tears in her mother’s eyes reminded her why she was doing all of this. She needs me to do this, Y/N thought to herself, my country is going to need a leader.

Their engagement was announced later that day by royal decree and their wedding was scheduled for the next month. There was no going back now.

The palace was in a flurry of planning and plotting for the big day. Y/N was rushed from meeting to meeting, instructed to make decisions about everything and anything she wanted for the wedding. She stared at floral arrangements until her eyes hurt and flipped through magazines looking at bridesmaid and flower girl dresses until her fingers felt like they were about to fall off. Unsurprisingly to Y/N, Harry was there for almost none of it. Although, she wasn’t exactly complaining about his absence.

He only surfaced when food or his suit was involved. In one vile incident, he arrived at the cake tasting with a wad of gum in his mouth, which was not only strictly prohibited for royals because it could be perceived as being too casual, but Y/N almost called off the entire wedding when she watched him stick chewed bubble gum to the bottom of a 200 year old handcrafted dining table.

“Were you raised by wolves?” she asked through gritted teeth while scolding him and desperately trying to remove the mess.

“Nannies, actually.” She knew by the smirk on his face that he wasn’t done with whatever antagonistic taunts that were planned to fall from his lips. “I’m pretty wild in the bedroom too, wifey.”

His crude comments were meant to hurt her and make her uncomfortable. He knew from their time in school together that she was constantly watched and kept far away from the gaze of any peaking boys, shining a spotlight on the massive double standard between the pair of future rulers. She wore a cloak of inexperience and innocence given to her against her will that embarrassed her to no end, and he knew that the easiest way to pinken her cheeks was to mention sex in any way. He aimed to fluster the poor girl and he got away with it anytime he flashed his dimples in a devilish smirk.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed red in embarrassment and furry before she got up from the table and stormed out of the room, muttering “pick whatever fucking cake you want,” before flying down the hallway to her bedroom and slamming the door behind her.

She felt frustrated tears pricking at her eyes as she slid down the back of the heavy wooden door to the floor below her. She let the fabric of her once perfectly steamed dress crumple beneath her and before she let the floodgates of tears open, she looked down at the dainty silver watch that sat on her wrist. You have five minutes until your appointment with the dressmaker, she thought to herself. Three minutes to cry, two minutes to change into a new dress and fix your makeup.

For three minutes, she let all her anger, frustration, and heartbreak fall out of her in loud sobs that anyone on the other side of the door was sure to hear. For three minutes, she let herself feel every angry emotion she had ever felt towards Harry. For three minutes, she didn’t care about her country or her mother needing this wedding. For three minutes, she didn’t care about anything other than her hurt. But only for three minutes.

Then she wiped the tears away, picked herself up off the floor, dressed herself in her favorite navy blue dress, fixed her mascara, and pressed a cool cloth on her cheeks to quell their angry heat. And then she went to see the dressmaker.

The only joy Y/N got out of this whole ordeal was getting to see her dressmaker, Agnes. Agnes was a kind and quiet old woman who was one of the most talented people she had ever met. The pair would sit together for hours discussing styles, the only time her schedule allowed her to relax, and the woman was in the middle of crafting the gown of Y/N’s dreams. It was a lace long sleeved gown with a cathedral length train. The top portion of the lace was sheer, making a strapless neckline visible, before the delicately crafted lace moved crawled up Y/N’s neck into a high collar neckline. It was reserved, but elegant and unique; “just like you,” Agnes once said.

The first time Y/N was able to try the dress on was bittersweet. The dress was stunning and it made her feel like the princess she was, but she did shed a tear thinking about how this moment was tainted with Harry. She wouldn’t be wearing this dress while walking down the aisle to marry the love of her life, she was marrying someone she would consider an enemy.

She bowed down reverently when her mother placed a veil and tiara on her head. The tiara was encrusted with diamonds and speckled with emeralds that happened to match her engagement ring. The tiara was an heirloom and every woman in her family had worn it while getting married for the last two hundred years.

Her mother wept softly before her, a proud smile on her lips. “I’m so happy I get to see you in the wedding tiara before I go, sweetheart,” she said leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Y/N’s cheek. “I know you and Harry aren’t always a perfect pair and neither were your father and I, but we made you.” The queen’s eyes flashed over her face trying to take her in, “And you turned out to be my proudest achievement and the savior of a nation.”

“Thank you, Mama.” She hadn’t called her mother by that name since she was a young girl but it just felt right at that moment. She felt like a child, needing someone to take care of her while she waited for a country to fall on her shoulders.

“I will always guide you through whatever I can,” she said tenderly. “Even when I’m not here, I will always be with you.” Y/N watched as her mother’s eyes welled with more tears, excusing herself quickly before they grew more intense.

Not more than five minutes later, she heard the obnoxious whistling that she had begun to hear in her nightmares from down the hall. What she didn’t expect was for Harry to burst through the door, not only interrupting her fitting, but seeing the dress before the wedding day.

Like all members of traditional royal families, Y/N was extremely superstitious. Her heart immediately broke as she watched his eyes look her up and down, like there was a little piece of her that thought if they did everything right and didn’t break any traditional rules, maybe they would work out. What hurt her even more was that he didn’t even try to leave. He just sat down on a chair, smacking his gum, and stared at her like he was doing nothing wrong. Her eyes were still filled with tears from the emotional moment with her mother and they continued to flow, no longer out of love, but out of anger and frustration.

“Agnes,” Y/N finally spoke, voice cracking as she tried to hold back her tears, “will you excuse us for a moment?”

“Yes, your highness,” Agnes took delicate steps backwards like she was expecting a bomb to go off, before turning around and scurrying out of the room. Her instincts were correct, because at that moment, Y/N exploded.

“What did I ever do to you Harry?” she questioned angrily. “Why are you so determined to absolutely ruin my life? It’s bad enough that I am having an arranged marriage, not even one that I have the tiniest bit of say in.” She watched Harry’s eyes grow wide, like he had never expected her to stand up to him. “I have spent my entire life being watched and guarded, and avoided by every man I’ve ever gotten close to because I was already claimed by someone who wanted nothing to do with me.” She couldn’t remember the last time she had raised her voice like this at someone; she wasn’t sure if she ever had before. “You can’t even pretend that you like me or that we won't be miserable for our entire lives.”

“Y/N, I don’t want this either,” he spoke after a moment of silence, the quiet only broken by Y/N’s heaving breath. “Why can’t you just calm down?”

“Why can’t I calm down?” she repeated. “Maybe because my country is looking to me to become it’s queen. I can’t give myself to my people when I am worrying about you and your incompetence. You may not become king in your country for another 30 years; you have time to learn and grow into a ruler because you’re in my monarchy and you get to learn here first. You’re playing king with my people. Millions of people rely on us the second I am crowned and you act like your irresponsibility doesn’t have far reaching consequences.”

“I’ll be perfectly fine,” he spat back at her, rolling his eyes with his arms crossed in front of himself as he sat back in the chair. “I can’t believe I have to marry you and into this family.”

Y/N felt like she had been punched in the gut. She was stuck with this man for the rest of her life and here he was, disrespecting her, her people, and her family. “Get out,” she said under her breath. When he didn’t move from his seat, she began to yell once again, “Get out! I mean it!” She dropped her voice once again, and spoke more seriously than she ever had before. “I have never hated anymore more than I hate you, Harry. I am doing all of this because I love my country and my people, but I want you to know, I will never be happy because of you.”

For a moment, through her tears, it looked like he had been hurt because of her words, but he was gone from the room before she could confirm it.

She fell to her knees on the dress platform, surrounded by the piles of pure white fabric. She was a perfectly dressed ball of furry and sobs, angry at the world and her predicament. Leaning over and putting her head in her hands, she felt the tiara as it began to slip off her head, falling into her lap.

Y/N picked up the tiara, using gentle reverent hands, examining it closely. The tiara represented the monarchy and every female ruler in her family that had come before her. It shined and dazzled in the bright lights of the room, its crystal clear and emerald stones reflecting multi colored light onto the crisp white of the dress below her. “I’m doing this for you,” she whispered quietly to the tiara like it could answer, tears still silently rolling down her face.

***

They didn’t speak again for almost a week. They communicated solely through their royal secretaries, sending the poor men back and forth with angry messages, almost gossiping about what was happening with each member of the pair when they returned to the sender. Y/N hated Harry, Harry hated Y/N; the same sentiment sent back and forth over and over. The two were driving fast towards a brick wall, and the brick wall was their wedding.

When she woke up one morning about a week before their nuptials, there was a small envelope sitting on the ground like it had been slid underneath her bedroom door. We have to talk, was all it read. It was not lost on her that the stationary had a small olive branch illustrated onto the page.

Later that afternoon, they met in the garden. It felt like a neutral place to talk, the palace obviously being her territory. She had worn a casual flowing white dress, like she was raising a white flag; and she carefully walked with a mug of black coffee, a peace offering of sorts, careful not to get any of the dark liquid on the fabric of her dress.

She found him along a bed of purple Hyacinths, their sweet perfume enveloping them both, sitting on the soft ground dressed in the most casual clothes she had ever seen him in. He was wearing a simple lilac button up and a pair of jeans. He seemed more approachable this way, without the tailoring and the coat of arms that always sat on his lapel. The golden highlights in his curls came out in the sun and his tanned skin seemed to glow. He held a rose colored leather bound notebook in his hands.

“Hi,” she said softly, a sharp contrast to her screaming the last time they spoke. “I brought you a coffee. The nice ladies in the kitchen say you take it black.” The corners of his mouth turned up slightly and he gave her a friendly but unenthusiastic smile.

“Thank you,” he breathed, as she handed him the hot mug.

“Can I sit?”

“I’m not in charge of you,” he mumbled into the cup taking a sip. It wasn’t until she noticed how his eyebrow shot up and how his eyes had a playful gleam in them, that her offence washed away. “Of course, you can sit down.”

“What’s the book for?” she asked gently once she settled on the ground a safe distance away from him. She decided a few grass stains were worth being on speaking terms with the man she was supposed to marry.

“Um, it’s actually for you.” He reached over and placed the book in her hands. She ran her hands over her initials that had been embossed onto the leather cover. “I’ve been meaning to give it to you for a while,” he said quietly, “I remember you used to write a lot when we were in school together. I thought you would like it.” She felt a confusing mixture of thankfulness for the book, guilt for her outburst, and all the frustration that she still held towards him.

“Thank you, Harry. That was really thoughtful of you.”

A silence hung among them, neither of them sure of the next steps this conversation had to take.

“Can we talk?” Harry asked, finally breaking the tension between the pair.

“Yes, please,” she answered just as quickly as he had asked.

“I wanted to apologize for interrupting your fitting like that. I didn’t know all the traditions meant so much to you and I never meant to make you so upset.” She had never heard Harry apologize before, to anyone else, and definitely not to her.

Before that moment, she had always thought of him as an impenetrable force, wondering if there even was a soul or a conscience in his body. But here he was, vulnerability and all, offering an olive branch and an apology.

“Thank you,” she said cautiously, wading into the almost friendly waters she had never been in with him. “I’m sorry for screaming at you like that. I said some very hurtful things to you.”

“So have I.”

“I want you to know that I don’t hate you and I shouldn’t have said I did. But, I don’t necessarily like you either, Harry,” she said, deciding now was the time they needed to open the line of communication. One of them would eventually combust if they continued on with their hatred like this. “You have tortured me since we were little kids and it’s going to take me some time for me to get over that.” She watched as he nodded his head along with her words, seeming to listen intently.

“I feel like that is also something I should apologize for. No offence, but I didn’t want to get married to you either- still don’t, but I was much more of a dick about it then,” he let out a light laugh, flashing one of his famous dimples before releasing a sigh. “I took out not having control of my life out on you and I’m sorry.” She never thought she would receive validation for all the hurt he put her through for so long.

“Listen, we are getting married as part of a diplomatic partnership,” she began, “I feel like we should at least act diplomatic towards each other.”

“Does that mean that we have to be friends?”

“Definitely not. Just not enemies.”

“I think I can do that, wifey.”

***

The next week passed in a surprisingly civil blur for them both. Y/N was still in the throws of getting ready for a wedding and Harry was off doing whatever Harry usually did. She didn’t expect him to be doing much but she was just glad he was out of her hair. But when they did run into each other, usually at some sort of meeting surrounding the menu, they had a new found respect for the other.

The pair hadn’t been fighting which was nice for a change, even though it did raise some eyebrows in both of their staff. At her final dress fitting two days before the wedding Agnes had asked her if she was ready to be a married woman. “Absolutely not,” Y/N had laughed, “but it’s my responsibility to my people and my country. I have lived the most privileged life imaginable up until this point, it’s time for me to begin my duties.”

“You’re a good girl, your highness. You’re going to make a great queen when the time comes. Even with a husband you may have to wrangle sometimes.” She ended her compliments with a giggle as she zipped Y/N into the dress, and she felt her heart warm. Agnes placed the final touches of the veil and tiara on top of her head, giving her a nod of permission to finally look at herself in the mirror.

The dress fit her like a glove. The delicate lace ran the expanse of the dress, starting at the very back of her immensely long train and crawling its way all the way to Y/N’s throat, and the fitted top half gave way to a full ball gown skirt. Y/N’s eyes followed the intricate lace patterns down her arm, eyes eventually landing on her hand and the ring that sat upon it. For the first time since it had begun to sit on her ring finger, she didn’t want to throw it across the room in frustration. It really was gorgeous and the tiny inkling of respect she had for Harry now made it much less painful to look at.

Staring at the mirror, she noticed the blurring of her vision and the wetness on her cheeks.

“I really am getting married, aren’t I?” she asked with a disbelieving laugh.

“Yes you are, your highness.” Agnes looked up at her through her thick lensed glasses with a proud smile on her face. “Now, let’s get you out of this contraption so you can go rest up for the big day.” Anges’ skilled hands freed Y/N from the beautiful layers of fabric and tulle and sent her on her way back to her bedroom.

Y/N was finally almost asleep in the early hours of the morning when she heard a gentle and almost timid knock on her door. She could have ignored it, rolled back over and let her dreams take her, but for some reason it felt important for her to get out of bed and answer the door. Her bare feet hit the cold wood floors and she tip-toed her way to the door.

When she grabbed the knob to open it, she heard a familiar voice say “don’t open the door! I don’t think I’m supposed to see you,” in a hurried and hushed tone.

“Harry?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” His voice was gravelly with exhaustion and had an apprehensive, almost nervous quality she had never heard from him before.

“Why are you here?”

“I just wanted to talk to you.” He said it so softly she wouldn’t have been able to hear him if her ear wasn’t pressed up against the doorway. The sentiment brought a smile to her lips and she wasn’t completely sure why. She was quiet for a moment, deciding if she wanted to turn him away or not when she heard him sarcastically ask, “What? I’m not allowed to talk to my wife?”

“I’m not your wife yet,” she reminded him with a tired chuckle. “But we can talk,” she assured him. “I’m going to sit down, okay? My legs are tired from my heels all day.” She kneeled down and leaned herself up against the hard wooden door.

She had been in this same position only a few weeks before, angry at the world and wanting to kill the man on the other side of it; but here she was, speaking to him willingly, even joking with him. She listened close as his own body rested against the floor and leaned on the opposite side, mirroring her own position.

“Those heels really hurt, don’t they?” he asked, voice still hushed. If she wasn’t so tired, she might have even said she heard a smile in his voice.

“Yeah, they are like little death traps for your feet and legs.” He let out a small laugh on the other side and her lips pulled into a smile that she hadn’t given them permission for.

“How many pairs do you have? You always match your dress to your shoes so you must have a ton.”

She was gradually learning that he was much more observant than she had originally thought. He apparently wasn’t the dumb boy that she remembered from school anymore.

“Too many,” she said with a soft laugh and a shake of her head. “I’m wearing my favorites tomorrow.”

“And which ones are those?”

“They’re white, obviously; they have to match,” she smiled. “They have a green gem at the toes. They match the tiara I’ll be wearing.” She stopped for a moment before continuing on. “And your grandmother’s ring.” She played with the gold band that sat on her ring finger, still somehow dazzling in the very limited light of her dark room. “Thank you, by the way. It’s gorgeous.”

“You’re welcome. She wanted you to have it.”

“Did she really?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said confidently on the other side of the door. She imagined him nodding along with his words to emphasize his point, as he often did while speaking. “She kept tabs on you while we were growing up. She was always talking about how smart you seemed and that you would be a good queen one day. If I didn’t know better, I would say she liked you more than me growing up.” Y/N felt her cheeks heat up with the information. She was flattered by his grandmother’s opinion of her, but her heart also ached for Harry.

“I’m sure that's not true.”

“I think it was. I was always screwing up in one way or another; always creating messes that her and my parents had to clean up.” He paused for a moment and she heard him let out a long sigh. “Always running around with other girls and making the one I was supposed to marry feel like shit.”

She wished she could see his face. She wished that she could get a read on his emotions. But there was, literally and figuratively, a wall between them.

“Y/N,” she heard his voice squeak out through a voice crack, “I really am sorry for everything I’ve done to you.”

“I know. I forgive you, Harry.”

Saying those four words, lifted a weight she didn’t know she had been carrying off her shoulders. This moment felt like an absolution, a time to wipe their long and complicated slate clean. There was no better time for them to start anew than the night before they began the next chapter of their lives. But this chapter would be together, as a pair and a team.

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry too, Harry. I know this all had to happen so fast so I could take the throne, but I know you thought you had more time. I thought I did too.”

“What do you mean? Why did it have to happen so fast?” he asked.

First, Y/N was confused. There was a very obvious answer. Then her heart began to break for him. He wasn’t ready at all for what was coming. No one must have told him.

“Harry,” she said softly, “Do you know about my mother?”

“What do you mean?” From the tone in his voice, she knew he genuinely didn’t know.

“My mom-” she began gently, swallowing the lump in her throat that always appeared when she began to talk about this, “My mom is dying, Harry.” She heard a soft gasp through the door before she went on. “She’s been sick for a while, but things are getting really bad. Her doctors think she only has a couple weeks left.”

She listened to his breathing stop, like his mouth was hung open searching for something to say. He was quiet for a few moments before he landed on what seemed like the only thing he had said over and over these last few weeks, “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I’m here for you if you need to talk about all of this.”

His offer was not lost on her. The idea of Harry being someone she could confide in was a new one, but one that she would consider.

“It’s okay.” She choked out, wiping a few stray tears that had found their way out, off her cheeks. “I have had enough time to come to terms with it. But in our archaic constitution,” she said with a biting distaste in her voice, “a woman cannot become the sovereign of the country if she isn't married. That’s why this all had to happen so fast.”

“I see.”

The pair were quiet, both curled up on opposite sides of the wall; simultaneously experiencing a unique type of loneliness that only the other could understand. In less than 12 hours, they would be married, linked by an oath that neither of them had signed up for, in circumstances with responsibilities that neither of them were ready to handle.

“Harry,” she peeped, breaking a silence that hung heavy over them both, “you should go to sleep. We have a big day tomorrow.”

She listened through the door to the rustling of him getting up off the floor beside her. “You should get some sleep too.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“So will I. I’ll see you at the altar, wifey.”

She let out a strangled laugh at the nickname he had adopted for her, her throat still tight from crying. She listened to his foot falls until they disappeared down the hallway before she mustered the strength to drag herself back to bed. Her staff was on strict orders from the wedding planner to have her woken up at 8 to begin getting ready and she wanted to get some rest before the sun came up.

And like clockwork, her curtains were thrown wide open at 8 am, sunlight blinding her as she woke up. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to her rude awakening, but soon she could make out the bustling room around her. Hair stylists, makeup artists, bridesmaids, flower girls, her mother, and some lady with an ear piece and a clip board fluttered about her bedroom with an excited chatter. Taking in the chaotic scene, it really hit her. Holy shit, I’m getting married today, she thought.

Her stomach twisted and turned in knots as the gaggle of women fawned over her, instructing her to stay still and “stop shaking” as they applied layers of makeup and fussed with her hair. Her hair was pulled into a delicately crafted low bun and her eyes were painted with neutral tones and a little bit of shimmer. Diamond and emerald earrings were threaded through her ear lobes and her fingernails were inspected to see if they needed any touch ups. Her shaky body was zipped into her dress and her feet slipped into her heels while her cathedral length veil was pinned meticulously into her hair. She was only missing one last thing.

“Your tiara, your highness,” her mother joked through the happy and proud tears welling up in her eyes. The tiara was the one last thing she needed before she was sent on her way to the cathedral. She bent down slightly, her mother delicately crowing her; when she rose, she couldn't help but grab onto her mother and hold her tight. It was hard for her not to think about the next time she would be crowned, a time when her mother wouldn’t be there to offer the guidance or support Y/N needed.

“I love you, Mama,” was all she said. It was the only reason all of this was happening. She loved her mother too much to let her down.

“I love you more, my princess,” her mother said gently, before turning away and scurrying off to do something else. Y/N tried to ignore the wince on her face when she moved too fast and the slight wheeze she made when she was speaking.

Surveying the scene around her, Y/N felt like she was about to die. Her heart was pounding hard in her ears, her palms were slick with sweat, her breathing was labored, and her chest felt tight. She had never been so overwhelmed with anxiety before. She had known today was coming her entire life, but the fact that it really was here was too much for her brain to wrap itself around.

It was like she had blacked out from fear, an hour of her life completely unaccounted for. She didn’t remember the last minute checks and touches to her hair and makeup. She didn’t remember her mother delicately resting her veil over her face. She didn’t remember getting in the car bringing her to the cathedral. She didn’t remember someone shoving a bouquet of flowers in her hands. She didn’t remember the music starting up or walking down the aisle of the giant imposing and ornate cathedral.

She was only brought back to reality when she reached the imposing altar and Harry delicately took her hand into his. His green eyes were painted with concern when he saw the worried crease between her eyebrows and the way she was chewing on her bottom lip under her sheer veil, swiping his thumb up and down her skin in an attempt to soothe her. It was the first time he had ever touched her voluntarily; it was a gentle and tender touch, full of care. She gripped back tight onto his hand, holding on for dear life as she thought over everything that was about to happen.

They were instructed to stand forward, watching the officiant as he droned on about love and duty to one’s country and spouse, but their hands stayed clasped tight onto each other, like they were being thrown into a stormy and unpredictable sea and the other’s hand was their only life line. And in a way, they were.

When they were told to turn towards each other to begin their vows, their eyes locked and she began to really look at him for the first time. She watched his plush lips closely as he recited the words fed to him from the officiant, although she didn’t hear a single word of them. Her eyes traced his strong cheekbones and landed on his adorable button nose before returning back to his eyes. She noticed the slight blue bags that sat under them, signaling he had just as much trouble sleeping as she did.

His eyes brought her a calm that she hadn’t felt in years, silently telling her that she wasn’t alone in all of this, his warm hands still holding on to hers punctuating that sentiment. There wasn’t anyone else in the massive cathedral but the pair of them anymore, just two scared kids trying to make it through the demands weighing on their shoulders together.

Shaky hands exchanged rings, her heart stopping for a moment when the ring caught and didn’t slide onto his finger gracefully. But her heart regained it’s rhythm when she heard a light chuckle coming from the man across from her, a gentle smile that was just big enough to flash a dimple at her, signaling that it would be okay.

She recited her vows without much thought, letting ‘I do,’ slip past her lips while still entranced by Harry’s intense yet comforting gaze. She watched his strong hands disconnect from hers as he lifted the lace trimming on the veil covering her face, dark lashes flickering down to her glossed lips. She let her eyes fall closed as he leaned in towards her and rested a hand on her cheek, prompted by the officiant and clapping coming from the pews, bracing herself for a feeling of disgust she hoped wouldn’t come.

He carefully connected their lips softly with a sweetness that felt gentle, tender, and caring. But there was more to the kiss than a softness, there was a respect there as well. His hand felt secure and protective on her cheek, and he pulled away with a smile after a short time, sure not to overwhelm her. The feeling of disgust in her belly that she was waiting for never came; if she didn’t know better she would say she felt an excited flutter.

They stood on the altar for a moment and just stared at each other, excited and relief filled smiles creeping into their lips, his dimples prominent. “Shall we, wifey?” Harry beamed with a sigh, extending a hand to lead her back down the aisle, now as a married woman.

“We shall, husband,” she giggled back, cheeks still a fiery red from their contact. Calling him her husband felt foreign, but not unwelcome.

Harry held her hand tight, keeping her in the moment by the warm contact. He held her hand down the aisle and all the way back to the palace, all throughout the signing of their marriage license, and all throughout the many, many photos taken of the two and their wedding party. She found comfort in his warm touch, continuing to ground her through the chaos that unfolded around them. Even when they had briefly disconnected from each other, he was always close by, only a call of his name away.

She was shocked by how careful he was around her giant dress, taking calculated steps to avoid dirtying the crisp white fabric. He was playing the role of a dutiful husband, and was seeming to enjoy it.

They spent the next hours just following orders from wedding planners, shuffled around from place to place, constantly surrounded by people. All she wanted was a moment to speak to him alone, but it seemed far out of reach.

That moment finally came in the middle of a dance floor, with hundreds of eyes staring at them as they danced. They swayed together slowly, a gentle rock to the delicate sound of strings. “Thank you for staying by me all day, Harry,” she said quietly, hoping that no one could hear them over the music.

“No need to thank me, wifey,” he said with a chuckle, his lips grazing against her ear as he spoke. She chuckled like always at the name and shook her head.

“I mean it. I don’t think I would have been able to get through all of this,” she said looking out at the crowd watching them and the giant ornately decorated ballroom they were in the center of, “if you hadn’t been by my side.”

“I quite like it, actually. I could get used to standing with you.” He said nonchalantly, like it was no big deal, while her heart just about stopped.

She wasn’t able to answer before the music slowed to a stop and they were pulled apart by their mothers and dragged off to speak to “very important” people. He seemed just as disappointed as she was when they were separated.

When they finally found each other again, Y/N had changed. She had abandoned her massive conservative skirt of tulle and lace for a creamy silk gown that she could actually move in. It was a simple a-line v-neck dress with cap sleeves, but the back held a deep V that ended at the small of her back coupled with a loosely tied bow.

The cool breeze on her back made her feel sexy. She knew she was pushing the boundaries on what was appropriate for a princess and she loved it.

“My darling, you look gorgeous,” he said, taking her hand and spinning her so he could fully take in the new dress, mindful of her tiara and trying his best not to knock it off. Her cheeks burned at his flattery, something he could surely feel when he pulled her close and pressed a delicate kiss on her cheek.

“You’re just saying that,” she said bashfully staring down at the floor, deflecting the compliment easily.

“Wifey,” he singsonged the teasing nickname that had evolved into a term of endearment. He lifted her chin to look up at him and he looked down at her with the most honest expression she had ever seen him wear. “You look beautiful. You have all day.”

“Thank you, Harry.” She spoke quietly, barely audible, unsure what to make of her husband’s compliments. He leaned in to her, layed a tender kiss on her forehead, and dragged her across the room to the dance floor.

They stayed on the dancefloor most of the night, almost always touching in some sort of way, while dancing and celebrating with their friends and family.

And Y/N was happy; a genuine type of happiness that she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Obviously, this wasn’t ideal. She was now married to a man she knew virtually nothing about, who had been a sworn enemy of hers only a few days ago, and had only begun enjoying his company last night. But happiness isn’t linear, she thought to herself.

Their night had passed in a joyous and opulent blur that went late into the night; full of food, dancing, and a swimming pool's worth of champagne.

Eventually both of them were led, by dutiful staff as they were both quite drunk and couldn’t exactly be trusted to make it on their own, to their new bedroom, or bedrooms depending on who you asked. They were led into the massive room consisting of two separate suites connected by a dressing room of sorts in a cloud of giggles, finding themselves in a fit of laughter after passing a portrait in the hall of some distant ancestor who had an amusing mustache.

“Thank you for leading us back,” she said, trying to gain a sober composure to the men who had flanked them on their way back, “you can go now.” The men shared a look between themselves that seemed to say ‘someone should be watching them,’ but followed the princess’ orders anyway.

“I just can’t understand how he got it to curl like that,” Harry cackled, beginning to wheeze from his hysterics and slightly stumbling as he was doubled over.

“Maybe it was natural like your curls,” she suggested, through her giggling hiccups that she let return when their staff left the room. “I quite like your curls, ya know? I like it when you let them grow a bit.”

They were still holding hands, despite being alone in their new found privacy, no longer needing the support from the other to shield them from the pressure of looking eyes.

“Then I’ll have to grow them out a bit,” he said, a smile still beaming at her with droopy drunk eyes. He tugged on her hand softly, bringing her body into his and setting his hand on the exposed skin of the small of her back. His hands were warm and soft and in the moment, she never wanted his hand to move from that spot again. “I can’t refuse the princess’ orders.” His voice had dropped low, not to a whisper but to a soft and lazy volume that made her feel safe.

Their faces were close and she could smell his strong vanilla and sandalwood cologne coming off him that she wanted to envelop herself in. He looked back down at her with a face that was loving, but she attributed it to the alcohol in his system. For a moment, she was overwhelmed with adoration for this man who she had spent so much of her life violently hating. Admiring and adoring him was much easier on her soul than harboring the hatred that had eaten at her for so long.

“I have another order,” she spoke quietly, letting the words tumble from her lips without her usually logical brain’s permission, “I want you to kiss me. For real this time.”

His lips were on hers as soon as the words left her own. It was sloppy and sweet, but with a passion behind it that Y/N felt in her bones. Their lips moved in a drunken rhythm, with Harry’s aimless wandering hands sliding up and down the silk of her dress before resting on her waist and pulling her impossibly closer to him. Her hands found and twirled the few of Harry’s curls that remained after they had cut his hair shorter than usual for the ceremony at the base of his neck and sunk her fingers into it, pulling him further into the kiss by his hair.

It was not long before their tongues found each other and the kiss deepened into a desperate dance of gasping for breath and soft moans into each other’s mouths. Harry’s mouth left hers and began to press sloppy open mouthed kisses down her neck while fiddling with the bow at the back of her gown that would release it from her frame.

Feeling him fuss with the bow made her pounding heart shift from one of excitement, to one of panic. This was too soon, she didn’t know him well enough. She didn’t know his favorite color or any of his hobbies. She didn’t know how he liked his tea, or if he drank it at all. She didn’t even know his middle name.

Her fuzzy mind couldn’t deny how much she didn’t know about him or the anxiety that made her want to pull away from the man and run.

“Harry,” she breathed, voicing the apprehension and anxiety that had begun to rise in her chest, “please stop.” She had squeaked out the words, a mix of embarrassment and panic taking over her slightly slurred words.

His hands froze, pulling himself back quickly from her, a mix of worry and guilt on his face. “Did I do something wrong? I just thought…” he let his words drop off, his own fuzzy mind not sure of what to say either.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry, I just can’t.” Her cheeks grew hot and her eyes became glassy.

She was embarrassed to admit it, but the kiss on the altar that morning was the first time she had ever had another pair of lips on her own. Her entire life she had been shielded from men with any interest in her, her affection already spoken for and claimed. No man had ever held her hand romantically, or danced with her, or kissed her with the passion Harry just had.

Harry had lived a life with freedom that she had never been granted. She remembered all the times she had watched him interact with various girlfriends at school, and remembered the shame she had felt when he had ended up on the cover of tabloids after he was photographed naked and kissing a random woman on a yacht. Every article had ended with the same line that she still knew by heart.

“The prince is arranged to marry Princess Y/N when she comes of age in an effort to unify their countries.”

They had lived very different lives, with very different freedoms up until this point. It was sexist and archaic and unfair, but she couldn’t deny the impacts it had on her while she was around Harry. Even though she couldn’t deny that she was beginning to feel something real for him and she believed that he felt the same; she didn’t fully trust him like that yet. She couldn’t.

“I’ve never done any of this before, Harry. This morning was my first kiss.” Her cheeks burned in a mixture of embarrassment and shame as she spoke the words. “I like you a lot, but today has been nerve wracking and scary enough. I just can’t add another new thing into the mix, especially that. It’s just all too much. I’m sorry.”

Her sheltered and delicate heart couldn’t even bring herself to say the word ‘sex’.

As he listened to her explanation, his features softened. They were no longer fearful that he made a mistake or crossed a boundary, but they moved into a soft and caring smile.

“Y/N, my darling,” he began in a soft and sweet voice, “come here.” He beckoned her with open arms to rest up against his chest again. She had curled her arms in front of herself, holding them close to her body, as she walked into his arms and let herself be enveloped by them while resting her head on his chest. “You are my wife now, but I think we both understand that we are not exactly in this position by choice. I would never ask you to do something you are uncomfortable with and I am sorry that I crossed a boundary.”

“Thank you,” she peeped before he continued on.

“Also, I heard that part when you said you liked me a lot,” she could hear the smirk in his voice, making her cheeks inexplicably hotter. “And I like you a lot too.”

The pair stood in that hold long enough for them to lose track of time, just resting against each other in silence, listening to the other’s breathing. The silence that enveloped them was comforting, but Harry eventually spoke again, inexplicably soft and gentle in tone.

“Y/N, I really want to try to make us work.”

“So do I, Harry.”

The pair stood together in their stillness and peaceful quiet, until she let out a small yawn.

Harry released her from his grasp and began walking around the room, opening wardrobes and dressers searching for something. He breathed a small triumphant noise when he opened a drawer, spinning around with a light pink and baby blue nightgown in his hands.

“Do you need any help getting out of your dress? Would I be allowed to help?” His face was so thoughtful, carefully navigating the boundaries she had made him aware of but not set in stone yet.

She took the nightgown from his hands and slipped it over her head, the silk dress beneath it. “I just need help untying the bow.” Her voice was still low, a quiet and delicate murmur.

His hands carefully untied the bow, turning around for modesty’s sake, only turning back around when he heard the silk hit the floor.

She had begun carefully removing the bobby pins that still held her bun together, causing them both to giggle when her hair was finally released into a giant poof of curls and hair spray.

She looked so sweet to him. This was the first time he had seen her relaxed like this, no longer in a fancy dress, heels, and her hair and makeup done to perfection. She looked like a real person to him, not a princess who would soon become queen.

He moved gingerly towards the door of her room, but not before pressing one more soft kiss to her lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, wifey.”

“Can’t wait, my husband,” she called from under the covers, watching him close the door behind him.

***

The two were sitting on a hot beach, baking in the sun when the call came.

It was day four of their honeymoon and a week after their wedding, spending their time alone together on a small island in the sun neither of them could remember the name to. It was a paradise straight out of a movie, and she swore nothing could ruin it.

They spent their days learning each other well, often joking that they should make up trivia quizzes for each other to see who knew the other best. She had learned that Harry’s eyes lit up like a child when he saw any type of animal, especially the small lizards that would run across the deck hanging off the back of their small beach house. It was also a surprise when she found out he loved to cook, whipping up a meal that could rival some of the chefs at the palace for dinner one night.

But her favorite thing she had learned about him by far, was how he sang in the shower. He had a low and melodic voice that he didn’t know traveled into the house from the outdoor shower. She would sit by the window closest to him, often pretending to write in the pink notebook he had given her in the garden, close her eyes and appreciate the man’s voice. She swore if he wasn’t a prince, he would be a singer.

In the time since their nuptials, the pair had become lovers. Always attached at the hip and sneaking kisses; they were blissfully and unstoppably becoming increasingly obsessed with the other. The word ‘love’ often played at Y/N’s lips, seeming to always be only a drink away from letting it slip out towards him.

Every day, they would walk down a short path from their house to a pristine white sand beach, picnic basket in hand, and sit. Sometimes they would sit in silence, just staring at the clear blue ocean, and other times they would talk about everything and anything that came to mind, or they would read silently next to each other. But they were always holding onto each other; sometimes it was a hand placed gently on the other’s thigh, or fingers intertwined between them.

The shrill ring of Y/N’s phone broke their fantasy while sitting on the beach on the fourth afternoon. Her heart dropped as soon as she heard it, knowing that the palace had agreed not to bother them unless the worst case scenario was happening.

She closed her eyes and braced herself, tears already threatening to breach her eyes, as she answered the phone with shaky hands. “Hello?” she choked out.

“Your highness, you need to come home.” She immediately recognized the panicked voice of her mother’s secretary on the other end. “It’s happening.”

“Okay,” she said, trying to remain as composed as possible. “We’re leaving now.”

Harry’s face held a furrowed brow and concerned eyes as she spoke. He immediately began rubbing his thumb back and forth over the back of her palm like he had done on their wedding day, but today, it did nothing to soothe her pain and anxiety.

She hung up the phone before letting out a heart wrenching cry. “We have to go home,” she sobbed. “She is dying.”

The entire journey home was silent after Y/N had composed herself on the beach.

She sat emotionless, staring straight ahead, flinching away every time Harry moved to touch her. She spoke only when absolutely necessary, but her voice brought no tone with it. She had become a shell of herself, losing the warmth behind her eyes that had begun to appear after the wedding.

She felt empty, like she had lost the ability to think, while simultaneously feeling so overwhelmed, by thoughts of her future as queen and the loss of her mother. She had become blank, inside and outside, the happiness she had begun to build for herself with Harry, melting away and leaving the hollowness of grief and dread.

It took them about twelve hours to reach the palace from the time she hung up the phone, but it wasn’t fast enough. The second she stepped out of the car, she saw the guards outside the palace dressed in their black uniforms that were reserved only for the passing of the sovereign. She closed her eyes silently, as if when she opened them up again their uniforms would turn back to their usual blue and maroon; but they didn’t, their clothing still black as night.

Her heels clicked the pavement, maintaining her immaculate posture and steely blank expression as she entered the palace, the loving man she had been excited to have a life with trailing mournfully behind her. She watched as if she was out of her body when she passed people, all now dressed in black, in the hall. They all acted the same.

First, they would give her the saddest look, silently extending their sympathies to the daughter who just lost her mother, and then bowing their heads in respect to the now reigning queen.

“I need to see my mother,” was all she said, before being led into her bedroom.

She hadn’t remembered when her father had died, too young to understand. All she could wrap her head around was that her Daddy had an accident and wasn’t coming home. But she remembered her mother’s cries, loud and earth shattering sobs that traveled up and down the hallways of the palace for all to hear.

She looked like she was just sleeping; arms peacefully crossed over her chest and eyes shut gently. But she was cold when Y/N reached for her hand. She tenderly brought her mothers hand to her lips, and pressed a final kiss to her hand, before walking blankly out of the room.

Her mother was gone. And the country fell onto her shoulders.

She heard Harry saying something as he followed close behind her. While she heard him, she didn’t process a thing he said. She stalked towards their bedroom which was unfortunately on the other side of the palace, locked in her daze. He trailed close behind her the entire way, trying to say anything that could break through to her, and stood dutifully outside the door of her side of the bedroom for an unknown amount of time after she had shut it in his face.

***

She didn’t speak, or show emotion, or allow anyone at all to touch her for three days. Only nodding or shaking her head in response to the rapid firing of questions she was asked about planning her mother’s funeral. Harry only saw glimpses of his wife, or the shell of Y/N that she had become, usually while she shut the door to her bedroom between them.

He left his door open all day everyday.

When he awoke the morning of the funeral and found her bedroom door open, his heart jumped. He slowly walked inside to find her in a room full of black dresses. Dresses had been laid carefully over every surface for her to choose from; the dress she would wear to her mother’s funeral and her first public appearance as queen.

“Good morning,” was all he said, quiet and careful.

The person that looked back at him was someone he didn’t recognize. The light was gone from her eyes, and she wasn’t the woman he was head over heels in love with anymore. She looked like her, but emanated sadness and anxiety like nothing he had ever seen before. Dark blue bags held under her eyes from not sleeping, her hair was tied behind her head in a messy unkempt ponytail, and she was dressed in a giant and ill fitting nightgown, shoulders bent down in a fashion that made her look small. The only feature of the put together, confident, and commanding woman he was married to that remained was the bright emerald ring that sat on her ring finger.

“I can’t decide what to wear,” she said without expression, but the tears started to fall down her face before she could finish the sentence. Harry moved quickly across the room to her when he saw her knees began to shake, catching her just in time as they gave out and she fell into his arms, settling them both onto the soft carpeted ground. That was when her heaving sobs began. It was a bone rattling cry that consumed her wholly and her exhausted and hurting brain could only put together two thoughts: she missed her mom, and she didn’t want to take on all this responsibility alone.

She sobbed into his shirt, holding onto the soft and worn fabric of his t-shirt for dear life, and he held her close to his body, slowly rubbing her back and letting all of the emotion fall out of her. She cried for a long time, giving herself a pounding headache, and when the tears finally began to slow she connected her tearful ones with Harry’s ever vibrant green eyes and mumbled, “I just thought I had more time with her. And I thought we had more time to just be us.”

“I know you did, darling.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and reveled in being able to touch her again, as his heart broke a little every time she would pull away from his touch.

“I’m not ready, Harry. I can’t do this all alone. It’s too much.” She spoke softly, shaking her head from side to side, still choking back sobs as she tried to regain her composure.

“You’re not doing anything on your own. The second we were married, your problems and responsibilities became mine too,” he assured her. He moved to grab her left hand in his own and showed her the rings that sat on their hands. “Remember these?” he breathed with a light chuckle. “You’re stuck with me for life, whether you like it or not.”

He watched as she processed the realization that he was there to lighten the load. It was like a lightbulb had gone off for her, slowly nodding along with what he said. She let her eyes fall to the dresses that surrounded her, but he gently took her chin and directed her eyes back to his. “Y/N, we are a team. I am always here for you and I always will be.”

He took a deep long breath before continuing on, “I love you.”

She didn’t think when she pressed her lips to him, she just did, desperate to be close to him again. A coldness had swallowed her for days, and his words brought back the smallest feeling of warmth, a glimpse of hope she had been desperate to find.

She had known the passing of her mother was coming for years, her illness getting progressively worse over time. She had always believed it would bring more pressure, weighing down on her heavier than ever before. But looking at their rings and the man before her, she was hit by the fact that she never had to carry the weight of the country all by herself. She had Harry the whole time. He was her partner; in life and in power.

“I love you, too,” she said after breaking the kiss, salty from all her tears. She was quiet and her voice was still shaking and unsteady from her sobs, but he was there, holding her and keeping her safe.

He held her hand, slotting their fingers together as he picked them both up off the ground and helped her pick a dress. It was a black blazer dress that fell below her knees with three crystal buttons going down the left side. Harry carefully helped her into the dress, his warm and respectful hands sliding up her bare skin as he pulled it up over her shoulders. He then sat her on her bed, and began to carefully brush out her hair, doing his best to work through knots without hurting the girl who was already hurting enough. And he held one of her hands gently while she sat at her vanity and did her makeup with her free one. He refused to leave her side.

Harry stayed firmly planted by her side throughout the entire day, not daring to leave her while she needed him. He knew that photos of him holding her hand tight during the funeral would make the press, and the photos of him wiping away her tears as they left would make the front page, but he didn’t care. She might be the queen, but she was also his Y/N.

***

Their fingers were always locked together, Harry’s thumb passing back and forth over the back of her hand in the steady rhythm he always used when she was stressed. He was there whenever she needed him, gently taking hold, to remind her that he was there and they were a team.

He cradled her hand as she crushed his, gritting through the most excruciating pain she had ever experienced. It felt like her entire body was being ripped apart from the inside out, but Harry’s hand was the light at the end of the tunnel. She was screaming and crying in the small crowded room, feeling like a science experiment as all the doctors looked on at her pain.

But it all stopped when she heard the smallest little cry.

Then shouts of “It’s a girl!”

Exhausted and elated tears flowed freely from her eyes that were locked on the slimy little baby a nurse was burredly placing on her chest. She was so small, delicate and breakable, with strong lungs that screamed out to announce her entrance into the world. And when her eyes opened for the first time, they revealed the same bright sea glass green tone that matched her father, the green she had been falling in love with and swimming around in for years.

This baby was so much more than just a little girl, not only to them, but to their countries. She would forge a kingdom united in the future, a product of peace and partnership. She was a symbol of unity and a future of kindness between their countries. She was the future.

But for right now, the tiny baby was just theirs.

She felt him press a proud kiss to her head before she connected their lips together in a tear filled kiss before they both looked back to their new pride and joy who was still screaming for all the attention.

“She’s beautiful, darling,” he whispered quietly though tears next to her, hand still grasped tightly onto hers. “You did such a good job.”

“Literally couldn’t have done it without you,” she chuckled, still staring down, entranced by the little girl who looked like her daddy.

The pair stayed with their baby, quiet and just being, long after the doctors and nurses left the room. They learned she liked to scream and sleep, about as much as you could learn about someone only hours old. But she didn’t have a name. They had been debating for the last nine months over what the little princess would be called.

“I think she should be named after your mother,” Harry would say.

“But I think she should be named after your grandmother,” She would reply.

Their roundabout banter never left the pair, only changed; from malicious and teasing, to one of loving partnership.

“So neither?” he quipped with a small smirk while holding the little girl tight to his chest.

“I guess we have to compromise; diplomatically,” she said with a giggle, alluding to how they got to this position in the first place.

“I feel like a loving marriage and a new baby is pretty good for diplomatic relations.”

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! Please send feedback and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles #prince harry styles #Royal AU #Harry styles enemies to lovers #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #one direction #one direction fanfiction

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Rumors

Corpse Husband x Bimbo!Reader (Female)

Warnings: Mentions of Slut Shaming, Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Tiniest bit of Angst, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When some rumors start floating around, every content creator does their best to either ignore them or defuse the situation. However, sometimes, the fans attempt to do the defusing themselves which only leads to a worse disaster. That’s the case for Corpse whose fans were quick to jump to his protection of some ‘false’ rumors.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request, it was a joy to write. I’m sorry for how long it has taken me to complete and post the fic but here it finally is and I hope you enjoy reading it at least half as much as I enjoyed writing it! Love, Vy ❤

Corpse cracks his knuckles, then his shoulders, then his collarbone, then the his neck. He clenches his jaw as he breathes steadily and rhythmically, trying to control an overwhelming wave of anger that he has never felt before. This is a situation he’s never had to deal with nor did he ever think he’d have to deal with and address on a fucking livestream on top of all, but here he is now, doing his best to count to ten and not go on a Twitter responding spree, calling people out on their bullshit. He wanted to do so, he still wants to, but he was stopped in his intentions and brought to a calm mindset where he was swayed into dealing with this the civil way and not by roasting the fuck out of any and every foul-mouthed person he’s seen on his Twitter timeline.

He can’t really guarantee and civility during the stream either, he’s aware his tolerance is as thin as a stretched out, old rubber band and is a slight tug away from snapping and allowing him to unleash hell on these people because of who he’s been seeing red these past few days.

Let’s not risk a misunderstanding here - Corpse absolutely loves and adores his fans, but seeing this behavior from them is quite upsetting and disappointing. When he uses the terms like ‘assholes’, ‘jerks’ and ‘rude motherfuckers’ he isn’t referring to them. He knows they are good people, but are using the completely wrong tactic of defending him, not to mention he doesn’t even need defending. Even if he did, he’s more than capable of doing it on his own and not getting other people involved.

“Hello everyone, hope you’re doing well.“ He finally settles on saying, officially kicking off the stream. If there’s any indicator of the serious nature of this stream, it’s probably the lack of lo-fi and the lack of even attempted playfulness and cheeriness in his voice. That’s how you know shit isn’t to be messed around about. “I just realized I didn’t specify what I’ll be doing in the Tweet, but I’ll tell you now, so those who aren’t interested in the subject or want to steer clear of the drama can leave. However, I wouldn’t advise clicking off considering this will be an overall, how do I say this, rant, of sorts? It’s meant to knock some sense in the people who have been spreading hate for a specific person on all social media platforms she’s active on.“

The majority of the viewers are already familiar with the subject, some even guilty of spreading the hate Corpse mentioned, but there are a few that are completely clueless - the ones actually not interested in online drama, not just saying they ‘hate drama’. With those people in mind, Corpse takes to addressing the issue from its very beginning.

“So, for a month now, me and this streamer, who’s also a TikTok star, by the name of Y/N have been interacting a lot on social media. She’s an incredibly sweet girl that a lot of people have prejudice towards. She’s very misjudged and misunderstood because people see he solely as her content, if that makes sense. They only know she’s that streamer who wears revealing clothes on her streams and posts risqué pictures on her Instagram. Like, no.“ Corpse cannot even fully believe he has to address this and that slut-shaming people is still a thing in the twenty-first century. He closes his eyes for a moment, fist tightening and his knuckles turning white, “I don’t understand how so many people can be so shallow and just plain jerks towards her in general, but then again - this is especially for my fans, the members of my fandom - I don’t understand the need you guys feel to put Y/N down to defend me from some ridiculous rumors as if it’s the first time I’ve had to deal with people talking shit for attention or to get someone canceled.“ He sighs, reminding himself to slow his roll as to not confuse any viewers who still don’t know the full story, “Anyway, back to the timeline of events. So, considering we’ve never interacted before, all the replying to comments, retweeting, liking posts and whatever sparked some dating rumors. Isn’t that just fucking hilarious - you see two people interacting on social media and the first thing that comes to mind is that they’re in a romantic relationship. Where did the friendship go? Does no one value or consider friendships to be a valid type of human relation anymore?“ He runs a hand through his hair, making another pause to clear his mind and prevent his frustration from overflowing. He promised he wouldn’t lose his cool and would remain calm and collected, but the more he talks about it the tighter he clenches his fist and the faster his heartrate is. His neck and ears are red from the tension he feels all over, almost like he’s physically restraining a raging wild animal and not just his own thoughts and emotions.

There’s layers to his anger, the lower ones - aka the ones he’s yet to get to - will be a nightmarish test of his self-control, he already knows it. Judging by how much of a toll this rant has already taken on him, his patience and control growing thinner and thinner, he’s not sure how he’ll power through the last layers without his voice raising awfully high in volume and his fists searching for some object to punch. To an ignorant eye, his reaction would seem exaggerated and overboard, but little does that ignorant eye know...

“When some of my fans saw those rumors, they reacted very badly. It was quite disappointing to see. Guys, I appreciate you standing up for me even though you shouldn’t do that - I can defend myself, not that this was a matter I needed defending from to begin with. But just the way some of you went about it was horrifically wrong and quite upsetting, to me but especially to Y/N herself.“ He can feel it, the aggravation growing, bubbling up in his chest, “What I saw disgusted me, I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. The things some of you were saying...I couldn’t believe you are in fact the same people who are my fans, my lovely fans who I’ve always thought so highly of. Never did I think you could be able of slut-shaming so vulgarly and grossly, I couldn’t believe what I was reading.“

He has every right to be upset - the things being said about Y/N were truly awful and a lot of things being said were meant to defend Corpse and defuse the rumors, doing so while stomping all over Y/N and her content. Rightfully so, many of her fans were outraged and quick to jump to her defense but were unfortunately outnumbered, leading Corpse to believe not many of her fans are actually real or as dedicated as his which only fueled his fury further.

Anyway, let’s take a look at Y/N’s point of view. Being a content creator for as long as she has, refusing to change her style no matter how many people disagreed and insulted her about it, she’s grown quite used to people spitting insults at her on every social media possible. It’s sad how throughout the majority of her content creating career she’s only had haters, creeps and fake fans watching her videos and streams. Rare are those in her fandom who’d actually stick up for her and defend her in ‘scandals’ such as this one. However, no amount of experience with dealing with hate could have prepared her for this outpour of some of the meanest shit she’s ever heard and been called in her life.

Y/N likes the content she makes, she’s comfortable in her skin and loves her body. She loves showing it off too and nor she nor anyone who wants that deserves to be shamed for who they are and what they do, especially when they aren’t hurting anyone and their content is still appropriate. People have always bashed her for all elements of who she is: her appearance, her clothing style, her streams, her gaming skills, her voice on occasion. She can count the instances when she’s received positive feedback on the fingers of her hands which would depress anyone else but not her. She’s always created content for her own amusement and entertainment so people’s opinions never really bothered her. Until now, until this very drama that has hit a specific nerve, an insecurity of hers she’s never talked about. The comments such as:

(Vy Speaking: Comments containing slut-shaming ahead, go to ### if you want to skip)

“Corpse would never date a slut like her“

“Corpse dating this thot? Please internet stop being ridiculous“

“Corpse ain’t a pimp, y’all need to chill“

“Even if they datin they gon break up soon - whore stays a whore“

###

bothered her far more than she’d like to admit. She has no one to open up about it either, she knows what she’ll get in response if she does - she’ll be told it’s her fault. Her fault because of the way she dresses, the way she talks and acts, because she chose this career to begin with. All her fault. The only person she can turn to she refuses to because she doesn’t want to be a bother - not after so many people confirmed her worries that she’s not good enough for him already anyway, the least she can do is avoid bothering him the best she can.

And that is exactly why this has upset Corpse so much.

“Here’s a little message specifically meant for those who claimed I’d never date someone like Y/N or specifically Y/N. You better listen carefully: Don’t you ever, and I mean EVER slut-shame my girlfriend or any other person ever. I cannot believe I have to explicitly remind you that your behavior isn’t ok. You should fucking know that your behavior isn’t right and that you’re a massive piece of shit for saying those awful things about others you judge solely on appearance and clothing. Does it surprise you that I am, in fact, dating Y/N? If you say yes for the reason you think she’s not good enough for me or that I deserve better, please get the fuck out of my fandom. No one disrespects my girl and gets away with it. That’s final!“

Though still under the influence of a flurry of negative emotions, overhearing Corpse literally telling people to exclude themselves from his fandom for being mean to her, Y/N’s taking a step towards emotional recovery knowing her boyfriend will always have her back. He’ll always be there to prove people wrong, defend her and stand by her. He’ll be there to catch her when the hate knocks her off her feet.

But most importantly: he’ll never ask her to change. Not her style, not her clothes, not her personality, nothing. He fell for her the way she is and for who she is, and he will never allow anyone to try to change her either. For someone who’s never had much support all her life, a single speck of support overpowers all the hate within the blink of an eye. Corpse will always be her knight in shining armor, the knight who defeated all the hateful demons by just entering her life. And though she’s still struggling with the ‘Am I good enough for someone so wonderful?’ and ‘He deserves better, doesn’t he?’ questions, with his hand holding hers, she’ll never let those doubts and insecurities overpower her.

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