#only the top drawers would be able to be pulled out

[getosugurugirlfriend]

Round two with choso

You and choso had sex and he was being a brat, so you decided to punish him.

Warning: bondage, overstimulation, pet names, edging, use of toys, a bit of aftermath

-

You and choso were laying together in bed after finishing round one. You were laying on his chest and reassured him that he did a great job at the first round, he was getting a bit ahead of himself and decided to tease you. So you decided to punish him.

“Was it that good for you?”, choso asked. You nodded against his chest.

Choso's heart swelled at your nod against his chest. He couldn't help but be pleased that he had made you feel so good. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his hand continuing to soothe up and down your back.

"You'll probably be sore tomorrow, doll," he teased, his voice soft. "You know that, right?"

“I have no work tomorrow anyways.”

Choso chuckled at your comment. He knew that you had tomorrow off, and that was good because it meant you would be able to rest and recover.

"Lucky you," he teased, his voice still low. "You get to just relax and be lazy all day, while I have work to do."

“Poor cho”, you chuckled.

Choso let out a dramatic sigh at your pity, his hand dramatically placing over his chest.

"I know, doll, it's tough being me," he joked, his tone theatrical. "Having to go to work while my girlfriend gets to stay in bed and recover from our 'activities.'"

He chuckled again, enjoying the banter between you two. "You know, I might have to call in sick just so I can stay in bed with you tomorrow," he teased, his voice taking on a more suggestive tone.

“you want me to not walk for a whole week?” she joked with him.

Choso barked out a laugh at your comment, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "You know, I wouldn't mind that," he teased. "Keeping you all to myself and making sure you can't walk for a whole week? That sounds like a good plan to me, doll."

“My poor cervix, cho.”

Choso couldn't help but chuckle at your comment, his hand continuing to roam over your back. "Hey, I didn't hear you complaining earlier," he teased, his voice a rumbling murmur against your ear. "In fact, I remember you liking it a lot."

she got shy again remembering, what they did earlier.

Choso couldn't resist teasing you when he saw you get shy again. Seeing you get all flustered and embarrassed was just too cute.

He tugged you closer against his chest, his voice dropping to a low, suggestive murmur. "C'mon doll, don't get shy on me now," he teased, his lips close to your ear. "You were making such pretty noises earlier, remember?"

“h-hey i’m trying to sleep.” she whined

Choso chuckled at your whiny words, amused by your attempts to sleep. He couldn't help but mess with you a little more.

"Sleep, huh?" he teased, his hand tracing patterns on your skin. "Is that really what you want, doll, or are you just trying to avoid talking about how good I made you feel?"

she hid in his chest.

Choso couldn't help but let out another chuckle as you hid your face in his chest, your shyness only fueling his desire to tease you more.

He pulled you even closer against him, nuzzling his face into your hair. "You know, the more you avoid talking about it, the more I'm going to tease you," he teased, his voice a warm, playful rumble.

“shut up…”, she whined again.

Choso was grinning now, thoroughly enjoying your attempt to get him to stop teasing you.

He pulled your face from his chest, turning it so he could see your pouty expression. "Make me," he challenged, his voice a low, teasing murmur.

“You are done for, cho”

Choso chuckled again, your threat only making him want to tease you more. "Oh really, doll?" he countered, one eyebrow raised in challenge. "And what are you going to do? Tickle me to death?"

“You want to try testing me?”

Choso smirked at your challenge, amused by your attempt to take control.

"Bring it on, doll," he teased, his voice a cocky rumble. "I'd like to see you try and make me stop talking."

she rummaged through his drawer, knowing he had something in there to tease him with, she was finding some ropes. “you in for it cho?”

Choso's heart skipped a beat as he saw you pull out the ropes. He felt a mixture of anticipation and a tiny bit of trepidation. He had never been tied up before, but he would be lying if he said it didn't intrigue him.

He shifted to sit up a bit more, giving you a cocky grin. "You think you can handle me, doll?" he taunted, a hint of excitement in his voice.

Choso watched as you climbed onto the bed, the ropes in your hand. He couldn't tell if you were serious or just bluffing, but he was intrigued to find out.

Leaning back against the headboard, he spread his arms wide. "Go on then, doll," he challenged, his voice a low, excited rumble. "See if you can take charge."

She put his hands over his head and tied them to the headboard.

Choso's heart rate quickened as you bound his hands to the headboard. He felt a mix of excitement and a bit of surprise at your assertiveness.

He tested the bindings, finding them tight and secure. He turned his gaze to you, his eyes gleaming, a cheeky smile on his face. "You definitely have my full attention now, doll," he teased.

She tested if he was sensitive at his chest area, not being sure if he was. She found that he was indeed quite sensitive and smirked up at him.

Choso couldn't help but shiver as you touched his chest, your hands running over his skin. He felt exposed and vulnerable, but in a good way.

He watched your hands as they explored his chest, his breath catching slightly as your fingers brushed over sensitive areas. "Well, I can definitely say I'm at your mercy now," he teased, his voice a low, gravelly murmur.

She noticed that his underarms were quite sensitive and his upper area, she cupped his abdomen and digged her fingers in.

Choso let out a soft gasp as you pressed your fingers into his abdomen. He hadn't expected you to hit such a sensitive area, and he could feel his muscles tensing and relaxing under your touch.

He tried to keep up his cocky demeanor, but the feeling of your hands on him was making it increasingly difficult. "Not fair, doll," he protested, his voice a bit breathless. "You know exactly where to touch me."

“you asked for it, by teasing me so much.”

Choso couldn't deny that you had a point. He had definitely been teasing you quite a bit, and he had certainly asked for it.

He let out a mock sigh, trying to keep his cool despite the fact that your touch was sending tremors through his body. "Alright, fine, I might have been asking for it," he conceded, his voice a low, rumbling murmur.

she got higher up circling his nipples, noticing he was shivering at the touch and getting goosebumps.

“Oh?”, she smirked.

Choso's breath hitched as you reached the sensitive area of his nipples. The feeling of your touch on such a sensitive part of his body was overwhelming, and he couldn't hold back a soft gasp.

It felt almost unfair how easily you were able to make him react, and yet he loved it at the same time. "You're enjoying yourself, aren't you, doll?"

She lightly grazed his nipples seeing him shivering and squirming, but she knew that wasn’t his most sensitive area.

She put her hands under his armpits tickling it. ”you trying to hold in your laugh?”

Choso's entire body jerked as your hands found his armpits. He couldn't help but bite his lip to hold back a laugh as the ticklish sensation spread through him.

He was torn between trying to maintain his cool and giving in to the tickling. "Hey, hey, that's not fair," he protested, his voice a mixture of amusement and pleading.

Choso tried to keep a straight face, but the tickling sensations were too much, and he couldn't suppress a chuckle. He squirmed slightly, trying to get away from your teasing touch.

"Okay, okay," he gasped out between laughs, his voice a mix of laughter and pleading. "You win, doll. You win." She didn’t stop deciding he deserved to get teased more.

Choso's laughter increased as you continued to tickle his armpits. He squirmed and contorted, his body struggling to find relief from the ticklish sensation.

It was getting increasingly difficult to form words, but he managed to gasp out, "Please... stop... doll. Mercy!" He trashed around.

“Nuh uh.” She got down and tickled the sensitive area of under his underwear.

Choso's gasps turned into a mix of laughing and pleading moans as you tickled the sensitive area of his underwear. The laughter was still there, but there was also a hint of pleading and desperation in his voice.

He writhe and twisted, trying to escape your tickling touch. "Please, please, doll," he gasped out, his voice strained. "I can't take anymore. I surrender! I surrender!"

“I don’t think so you can take more, cho.”

Choso couldn't believe you were prolonging his torture. The tickling sensation was driving him insane, and he had completely given up trying to maintain any coolness.

He was a writhing, squirming mess, his laughter mixed with gasps and moans of pleading. "Doll, please," he begged, his voice a desperate whimper. "I can't take any more. I'll do anything! Just stop!"

She knew he was sensitive, feeling his boner through his pants, she softly took him out seeing him quiver. She started stroking him in a slow pace.

Choso's body convulsed as you started stroking him, his sensitivity already heightened by your previous tickling. He let out an involuntary moan, his body quivering under your touch.

He couldn’t believe how easily you were able to reduce him to a pleading, trembling mess. He wanted to be in control, but here he was completely at your mercy. “Doll, please” he panted, his voice a desperate gasp. “I can’t rake it for much longer”.

“Aww poor baby, whining and wanting mercy, I think you can handle it for some more.”

Choso's body trembled as you continued to stroke him, the sensations overwhelming his senses. He had never felt so vulnerable and yet so stimulated at the same time. He was completely at your mercy, and he knew he couldn't hold on much longer.

"I'm going to... doll," he gasped out, his voice a desperate, pleading whine. "Please... don't stop, please”, he begged.

She stopped at that, edging him.

“No, I don’t think so, you were being pretty mean earlier.”

Choso let out a strangled moan as you stopped edging him, his body quivering on the brink of release. It was a mix of pleasure and frustration, and he couldn't help but let out a desperate plea. "Doll, please," he pleaded, his voice a strained gasp. "Why are you tormenting me like this?"

“Aww, poor cho.”, she stroked his cheek.

Choso's body quivered as you continued to stroke his cheek, your touch a mixture of soothing and arousing. He looked up at you with pleading eyes, his expression desperate and pleading.

"Please, doll," he whispered, his voice a low, pleading rasp. "I'll be good. I'll do anything. Just finish what you started, please." He had some desperate tears running down his face.

She decided he had enough. “Okay, okay, you deserved it.” She picked up the pace, stroking him faster and slowly massaging his balls. He was struggling and squirming under her hold and was struggling to get out of the bounds.

He was completely at your mercy, his body trembling and straining against the bonds holding him in place. He was so close to release but he knew he couldn’t reach it, the pleasure building up inside him to the point of torture.

"Please," he gasped out, his voice ragged and desperate. He was completely at your mercy, his body quivering on the brink of release. "Please... stop edging me."

Choso wasn't sure if he could hold on much longer. The pleasure was building up to the point of torment, and he was desperate for release.

"I can't," he gasped, his voice strained. "Please-“

"Please let me finish," he begged, his voice thick with pleading. "I can't take much more of this."

“Shhh shh cho, it’s okay baby, cum for me, cum.”

Choso's body bucked as you whispered for him to finish, the words adding to the pleasure building inside him. He could feel himself teetering on the edge, but he was holding back, reluctant to give in just yet.

"Please," he gasped out, his voice raw and desperate. "I-“

"I can't hold on much longer," he pleaded, his body trembling on the brink of release. "Please, doll, have mercy on me."

She started making out with him quieting him down, so he focus on his release.

Choso melted into the kiss, his body relaxing slightly as your lips met his. The taste and feel of you were a welcome distraction from the intense pleasure coursing through him, and he couldn’t help but let out a soft moan against your lips.

The kiss was gentle but filled with heated intensity, and Choso found himself momentarily forgetting about the bindings holding him in place. He was completely surrendered to your touch and the sensation of your mouth on his, his mind hazy with pleasure.

Choso wanted to touch you, to feel your body under his hands, but the ropes held him in place, teasing him with the inability to move. It was both maddening and thrilling, the fact that he was trapped under your control.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with desperate urgency. He was so close to the edge, his body trembling with need, but he held himself in.

The feeling of his tongue exploring your mouth sent a shiver of desire through you. Your hands roamed his chest, enjoying the way his muscles trembled under your touch, the ropes holding him in place only adding to the sensation.

Choso groaned into the kiss, the sensations of your hands on his chest fueling the fire that was burning inside him. He wanted to touch you, to pull you closer, but the ropes held him in place, his frustration only intensifying the arousal coursing through his body.

"Doll," he gasped as you broke the kiss, his voice a low, desperate moan. "Please, let me touch you. I need to feel you."

“No, this is your punishment baby.” she picked up the pace knowing he will release.

Choso groaned, his body taut and tense as you picked up the pace.

"Oh god," he gasped, his body trembling on the brink of release.

"Please," he begged, his voice thick with pleading. "I can’t hold on much longer.”

“Let it out, it’s okay” she traced his veins on the underside of his dick.

Choso let out a strangled sob as he finally let go, his body shuddering as the release washed over him. He felt relieved, yet still frustrated by how powerless he was under your control. He panted heavily, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

"God, doll," he gasped, his voice ragged. "You’re going to be the death of me, you know that, right?”

she chuckled, rummaging through his drawer again finding what she has been searching for, she turned it on the buzzing sound was able to be heard in the whole room.

Choso's heart stuttered as he heard the buzzing sound, knowing exactly what you had just pulled out of his drawer. He watched you with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, his mind racing with possibilities.

"What are you planning with that, doll?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. He tugged lightly against the binds, testing their strength.

He wasn't sure if he was excited or afraid of what you were about to do with the toy. The fact that he was completely bound and vulnerable added an extra layer of helplessness to the situation that was both thrilling and frightening.

"You know, I could just rip these bindings right out," he said, straining against the ropes for emphasis. His words were defiant, but there was a hint of playful excitement in his voice.

"But then again," he continued, his tone turning more teasing. "You'd punish me if I did, wouldn't you, doll?"

“I would”, she chuckled.

Choso chuckled, the thought of being punished sending a thrill through his body. He knew he could easily break the bonds if he truly wanted to, but he also knew that submitting to your will was part of the game.

“So cho any last words, before I put this on you?”

Choso's breath hitched as he heard your question. He knew he was completely at your mercy, with no way to resist whatever you had planned for him. Yet he couldn’t help the cocky smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips as he replied.

"I dare you, doll."

Choso gasped as he felt the toy pressed against his sensitive tip. The sensation was intense and overwhelming, sending shudders of pleasure coursing through his body.

"Oh god, doll," he gasped, his voice choked with pleasure. "You’re playing dirty."

“Can’t handle a second round, baby?”

Choso grunted, his body quivering under the toy's intense stimulation. "You know I can handle anything you dish out, doll," he muttered, his voice rough and strained.

“Really? Then what about putting the intensity a bit higher?”

Choso groaned as he heard your words, the thought of the intensity getting higher both exciting and a little scary.

"Go ahead," he panted. "I can take it." He wasn’t sure if he was bluffing, but he was willing to find out.

She put it on the highest setting. Seeing him struggle and moan against the binds.

Choso’s body jolted as the intensity increased, his moans and gasps becoming more and more desperate. The feeling was overwhelming, and he struggled against the ropes, his wrists tugging at the binds as if seeking an escape.

"Oh god.. doll," he gasp. "It’s too much-“

His body was trembling, every nerve ending on fire. The pleasure was almost painful, teetering on the edge of a mixture of pleasure and pain. He wasn’t sure if he could take anymore, but he also didn’t want the sensation to stop.

"Please," he panted, his voice strained and desperate. "I can’t take much more, doll. Mercy-"

“Nope.”

Choso groaned, his body trembling under the relentless stimulation. He was completely at your mercy, and he knew that you had no intention of stopping anytime soon.

"Please," he gasped again, his voice pleading and desperate. "Please, doll. I’ll do anything."

“Then cum.”

Choso's body trembled as he felt himself getting closer to the edge. The intensity was almost unbearable, but he knew he had no choice but to give in to your command.

"I’m trying," he panted, his voice barely above a whisper. "It’s just... so difficult to hold on."

She started licking his nipples, to get him over the edge.

Choso's body convulsed as you touched him more, the added sensations pushing him to the brink. He was struggling to hold on, his entire body trembling.

"Please," he gasped, his voice ragged and desperate. "I’m trying. I’m trying so hard, doll. But I don’t know if I can hold on much longer. It’s too-“

“Shhh shh, let it out.”

Choso groaned, the mix of pleasure and anticipation overwhelming him. He knew he couldn’t hold on much longer, and your reassurance was both a comfort and a taunt.

"Okay," he gasped, his voice a low, desperate whisper. "Okay, doll. I’ll let it out. Just don’t stop."

His body was tense, every muscle taunt and trembling. He was ready to explode, the sensations building up inside him to a level that was almost unbearable.

"I’m close," he panted, his voice strained and urgent. "So close. Just a little more, doll. Just a little more."

She started stroking him still licking his nipples and having the vibrator under his sensitive tip.

His body was on edge, teetering on the brink, ready to release at any moment. He was completely at your mercy, and he knew that you were in control of when and how his release would come.

“Then do it”

The words were a direct command, and Choso felt his body tighten in anticipation. He was so close, teetering on the edge, waiting for permission to let go.

"Okay, doll," he gasped. "I’m going to-"

He squirted.

She stroked him some more and put off the vibrator letting him have his orgasm for as long as he can.”

He repeated his words “thank you” and slowly sunk into the bedsheets after 40 seconds.

He calmed down and put her down with her and cuddled into her, needing some comfort. She provided him with him laying his head on her chest and she played with his hair pulling him into a peaceful sleep.

“I love you, cho.”

[fandomitor]

it seems that my mother doesn’t understand basic math (geometry? but 3d) that you can’t fit a rectangle into a smaller square (even if it’s attached to a longer rectangle (stairs) if you can’t get it past the doorway)

[midnightsunsfan]

Hank McCoy x Reader

Warning: Smut! Transforming mid sex, P in V, Bondage, Virginity loss, Hank slightly hurting himself, A tadddd agression. (let me know if i missed anything)

Summary: You and Hank have always been close to having sex, but he’s always stopped you. He explained to you the first time he stopped you was that he was scared of harming you because he thinks he’ll transform while doing it. You tried to reassure him that you would be perfectly fine, but he refused. Now, he’s randomly told you something that shocks you a bit.

“I’m ready to have sex with you,” Hank says in his human form. He was staring at you from at least 3 feet away.

You both were in the lab. You were currently putting some papers back in a drawer, and Hank walked in.

You stared at him in disbelief. The papers still in your hand while you were frozen. You and Hank had been dating for 5 months, but you’ve never had sex.

You obviously understood and respected his decision. It was obvious he was scared of having sex for the first time too. You told him you didn’t think he would transform during it, but he had told you he’s accidentally transformed ever time he’s masturbated because of how overstimulated he was.

“On one condition.” He continued. You continued to blankly stare at him. “You have to cuff me to the bed.”

You were even more shocked after hearing that part. You stood there for a moment and finally placed the paper in there designed drawer.

“Uhm, Hank, are you sure?” You asked him, closing the drawer and stepping closer to him. He nodded in response.

“Yes,” He clenched his jaw nervously. “If-If youre okay with it, i want to be chained up so i wont be able to do anything to hurt you.” He added.

You chuckled a little at his response. “Okay. And when exactly are you planning to make this happen?”

“Now.” Your eyebrows raised at his answer. “Now?” You asked. He nodded again. “I-I designed restraints myself so it would be strong enough to hold me down if i transform.”

You look at him in surprise. “Alright.”

Now, you were currently on top of a half-naked human Hank. You both were only in your underwear and you were chaining his wrists to your bed frame.

“You locked the door?” You asked. “Yes.” You looked down at him after chaining his hands and smiled. “You look cute like this.”

He blushed at your comment and bit his lip. You turned around, your ass near Hanks face. Hank gulped nervously as you chained his legs to the end of the bed.

“Please, let me know if i hurt you.” You chuckle as you turn back around. “I highly doubt you’ll hurt me chained up like this.” you joke.

Hank clenches his jaw when you unclasp your bra. “You can always back out if you want.” You say, slipping your bra off.

Hanks face turns beat red when he sees your upper half completely naked on top of him. He shakes his head no and you feel the bulge in his boxers get bigger.

You smile down at him and place a loving kiss on his lips. “Okay.” You start grinding down on his bulge, placing your palms on his chest.

“D-Don’t tease me, please.” He exhales. You chuckle at yourself. You got Hank all riled up like this, and you felt pretty proud.

You climb down so that your face was a few inches away from Hank’s bulge. You slip your fingers under the hem of the boxers and pull them down. Not completely, but just enough so that his member pops out.

His dick did in fact pop out and hit his lower abdomen. Your mouth slightly opens a little, surprised at his large size. He stared embarrassingly down at you.

“Are you big because of your mutant power?” You ask, climbing back up at him. He shakes his head. “No, it’s..it’s natural.” He adds

You chuckle a little and place your hands on your hips, teasingly rolling down your underwear and throwing it across the room.

Hank’s dick practically jumps and he clenches his jaw again. “You ready?” You ask, looking up at him. He nods. You look back down and place the tip of his cock at your entrance.

You both let out a breathy exhale as you slip him inside. “Oh god..” You mumble. “Are you okay?” Hank quickly asks. You smile down at him and give him a slow kiss. “Of course.”

You slowly start sliding up and down on him. “Fuck.” You let out. Hank lets out breathy exhales everytime you go down. “Y/N..” He slightly moans.

“You feel so amazing.” He adds on. You start sliding up and down faster with more friction. Hank starts following your lead and grinds up everytime you go down.

“Hank.” You moan out. Hank bites his lip harshly when you start going faster. “W-Wait.” He groans out. You start going faster and that’s when you see his hair slightly turning blue.

“Y/N i-i can’t!” He moans out. You just start going faster. You start feeling his dick getting bigger and bigger. You also see Hank start getting blue.

“Oh god!” You moan, not stopping as his dick gets unbelievably big. You look up at Hank and see that he’s completely transformed.

He bears his teeth at you and growls. Hank breaks off the restraints on his wrists and wraps his arm around your waist.

“Wai- Hank!-“ You moan as he pushes you down on his cock. “I’m sorry.” He says lifting you back up and slamming you down again.

You moan loudly, grabbing onto his hair and curling your toes. “Wait!” you scream out. “I-I can’t.” he says, pounding into you aggressively.

You both are now moaning each others names and you feel yourself getting close. He feels it too. You grip tightly onto him and he claws at his own hands, pressing you down deeply onto his cock.

He cums inside of you and you start cumming to. He pushes you down onto him and he presses his chin into your shoulder with his eyes squeezed shut.

Your mouth is open, but there’s only tiny moans coming out as you feel him empty his guts into you. And god, it was a lot.

You both hold onto each other for awhile, catching your breathes. “Oh god, I-I’m so sorry.” He says letting go of you so he could face you.

You chuckle and exhale. “It’s okay, you didn’t hurt me.” You reassure him. He looks down at his ankles and breaks off the restraints. “I need to make better restraints..”

[dark-fics-4-you]

Number One Fan ch. II

StepBro!Rafe x f!Reader

Warnings: somno, noncon, smut, fingering, masturbation

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Rafe had been having trouble sleeping.

Ever since you tagged along to his football game and then the bar afterwards a few weeks ago, you had been the only thing on his mind.

At first, he had tried to push his feelings towards you aside. He tried so damn hard to not act on any of his urges. It took all of his energy to turn his focus from your sweet smile and beautiful eyes, so innocent and naive.

The first time he jacked off thinking about you was an accident, kind of.

He had actually been trying to think about a previous hookup he had a few months ago. Rafe lay back on his bed, stroking his cock and grunting under his breath, when your face flashed across his mind.

Before he knew it, he was staring at the creamy white substance coating his cock and fingers, realizing that he had just made himself cum faster than he ever had before, purely because he was thinking about you.

But the strangest thing?

He didn’t feel guilty at all.

After that first night, he had done it every day for a week in a row.

Unfortunately, this didn’t satisfy his desires.

It only made them grow.

Rafe knew that you were a virgin for two reasons. One, you had told him many times, which had always made him feel proud, for reasons he didn’t fully understand until now. And Two, he had chased away any guy who so much as looked at you funny.

The idea that he could be your first, that he could have that connection with you, made him so hard he physically ached.

He still wasn’t fully sure what compelled him to check on you that night.

“Y/N/N?” He whispered as he neared your bed, not even sure if he even wanted you to be awake. You had always been such a heavy sleeper.

He paused when he saw you, stretched out in bed, wearing just panties in an effort to cool yourself in the North Carolina heat. His dick throbbed, pushing against the thin material of his boxers.

His tongue flicked out to brush his upper lip at the sight of your breasts. He had never been able to fully appreciate you in this way, and now his breath caught in his throat at the sight of you stretched out, not a care in the world as you peacefully dozed.

You were so beautiful, so perfect. So special. Rafe had never felt this strong of a feeling towards anyone before.

You were always so sweet and good for Rafe, your big step-brother, who you trusted. Completely, blindly. Rafe felt like he needed to reward you for being such a good little sister.

He just couldn’t stop himself.

And what you didn’t know, couldn’t hurt you.

Right?

Carefully searching through the top drawer of your dresser, Rafe grabbed one of the pairs of panties that he would kill to see you in.

He pulled his throbbing cock from his pj pants, stroking it as he gazed at your sleeping form, bunching up the panties in his hand before he spread some of the material over the tip of his cock, enjoying the feel of the silky material of your panties as he stroked himself.

Nearing your bed, he was careful to climb into it silently, not disturbing you at all.

He stared at your soft thighs and the thin layer of cloth that covered what was beneath, mouth watering as he slowly pumped his hand up and down his shaft.

It’s wrong, he thought. It’s wrong, it’s wrong, it’s wrong.

Before he could think twice, his free hand was creeping forward, delving between your thighs with a feathery soft touch. He grew closer to your core, fingers dancing over the soft skin of your inner thighs.

Carefully, he slid your panties to the side with his middle finger, before gently spreading your legs.

Rafe’s cock throbbed in his hand as he looked at your tight pussy, on display just for him. He pumped harder, biting back the groans that he wanted to let out.

Slowly, he brought his middle finger to your slick folds, gently running a finger up your slit. How could you be so wet when you were just sleeping??

He took it as a sign.

When your older step brother gently pushed one finger into your tight warmth, he nearly came just from that.

He ventured slightly deeper, watching your face carefully for any signs that you were going to wake up.

After pushing his finger in to the hilt, he curved it inside you, and he was shocked to hear you sigh in your sleep, a noise that sounded suspiciously like a whimper.

You were enjoying it! The idea shocked and thrilled Rafe. Here he was, fingers inside you as you slept, and you were fucking whimpering and gasping at the feeling.

Curiously, he brought his thumb to your clit, hovering over the sensitive bundle of nerves before he slowly began to circle it.

At this, you let out a genuine, honest to god moan, and it was the sexiest thing Rafe had ever fucking heard.

He wanted nothing more right now than to force his cock into you and fuck you till you were nothing but a pathetic, quivering mess, coming over and over again around your big brother’s dick.

But for now, he could be satisfied with this.

He stroked himself faster, choking his cock with his hand as he imagined burying himself deep in you.

With another curve of his finger paired with the pressure on your clit, you came undone, tightening around his finger and whining in your sleep as he slowly fucked you through your orgasm.

It was all too much for Rafe. You were so wet, so fucking tight, the perfect lil sis, allowing him use you exactly how he needed.

He groaned softly under his breath as he came. Sticky, white cum pushed out of his cock and onto your panties as he slid them up and down.

The blond was still for a moment before he realized he needed to get the fuck out of there.

His head was spinning, he couldn’t believe what he had just done, the lines that he had just crossed.

He quickly pulled your underwear back into place, leaving no signs that anything unusual had happened.

Rafe stuffed the panties he had ruined into his pocket as he walked out, turning at the doorway to look at you one more time.

You didn’t need to know.

It could just be his little secret.

Chapter III

[kill4luvina]

"Too Much!"

TattooArtist!Ony x Black!Reader

Summary : Y/N asks her boyfriend for a new tattoo under her tits, after telling her over and over again it'll hurt he finally agrees, he starts only for the exact thing he wanted to prevent happening. So, he evens out the pain by getting her a vibrator as he continues doing the tattoo on her, only to end up fucking her <3

Warning(s): SMUT, NOT PROOF READ AT ALL, Vibrator Usage, uh probably more but idk.

(Idc, Ony got cornrows here like anyway)

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"Babbyyy, Please?" You were on your knees begging to your boyfriend as you held out your phone showing him the under boob tattoo you badly wanted. "No, you gon be cryin, that shi hurt like a bitch." he'd mutter rolling his eye trying to look everywhere put your face. "B-but" you'd start sniffling and tearing up, he had spoiled you way too much, and honestly it was too late to stop. "fuck.. okay.." he'd finally give in making you jump into his arms in excitement.

The next day, you came into his privet room in the back of the tattoo shop. You were wearing a white mini crop top showing your under boobs with a short black mini skirt that barely covered your ass with pretty black Gucci Strappy Sandal Heels. You'd hug your boyfriend in excitement thanking him again for letting you have it on the house, like you always do. It was a trade actually, he'd give you free tattoo's and you'd braid his hair whenever he wanted. "I shouldn't let you pop out no where dressed like this no more.." He'd sigh noticing the pretty under ass tattoo he had done for you months ago with his name, having flashbacks to when you cried your heart out until he had fingers plunged in you to even out the feeling of pain.

"Ony! You didn't tell me it hurt this bad!!" You'd scream as soon as it made contact with your skin, instantly triggering him as his left eye twitched at the statement you made. "I didn't what?" He asked looked up at you, eyes focusing on you and ngl he looked mad asl. "You said this shit last time too!" He'd say annoyed as he ignored you for about 5 minutes until you start crying. Eyes filled with tears sobbing as you brought your hands up to try and clean your overflowing tears. "Alright, stop crying mamas, give me a second." He'd say getting up taking off his gloves as he went into his drawer bringing out a new vibrator that wasn't open yet.

"Got it just for you, i didn't think you deserved it tho." He say sitting back in his seat as he watched you trying to clean your face quickly still sniffling as your face was now a mess but you still looked so cute in his eyes. He'd open you legs as he ripped off the packaging off the vibrator resting his right hand on your pussy giving you small circles making you moan as he gave you a sloppy kiss. "Feeling better?" he's ask watch you nod your head, feeling you get completely wet at just the contact of his fingers. He'd take the vibrator and turn it on low, he had bought you a pink Rabbit Vibrator. It was basically a penetrative vibrator that offered simulation to your clit to.

He's slowly slide if in before licking his fingers and putting his gloves back on as you moaned trying your hardest not to move as your legs clamped together. "Stay still.." he's say blankly as he continued your tattoo as you didn't even know how to feel at that moment, hands holding tightly to whatever you could find. This would go on for about another 25 mintues until he'd stop as you start twitching from your second orgasm somehow. He'd take off his gloves before pulling out the now soaked vibrator putting it too the side. Standing up he'd pull down his grey nike sweat pants to reveal his erection that had been twitching between his pants since this session had started.

Not being able to hold himself back anymore he'd push himself into you making you moan loudly as you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck giving him sloppy kisses as he fucked you completely senseless as you babble telling him how much you love him. Crying when as he started leaving marks all over your neck finding you sensitive spot attacking it solely leaving you completely helpless. "Ony! Thank uuu!" You'd moan tears leaving your eyes as you came on him, twitching as squirting all over him as he came right after you.

He'd lay there for a moment giving you soft kisses as he whispered "Anytime my love.." Noticing you start to fall asleep knowing that you'd probably ask him to add onto this tattoo some other day noticing he hadn't completely finished it but it looked close enough to done.

LOL WHEN HE WENT OUT TO GET A BOTTLE OF WATER HE OPENED THE DOOR AND SAW A SMALL GROUP OF EMPLOYIES AND COSTUMERS AT THE DOOR LISTENING IN. LIKE BYE.

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[taurussbabe]

In a heartbeat

note: something short but sweet, hope you like it. 💌 word count: 1,1 k

“I love you” you heard charles say softly, almost inaudible. He was laying on top of you, head on your chest, his thumb gently caressing your waist. There was barely any sound in the room, only the soft sound of the pages of your book turning and both yours and charles breathing.

One of your hands was placed on his hair, removing it every time you had to turn a page, and the other was holding you book. “I love you, too” you replied in the same tone as his.

“no” he said, turning his head so that his chin was now resting on your chest, his cheek slightly red for being pressed against your skin “I love you like I’ve never loved anyone”

He pulls you down by your waist before you can even respond, pressing a kiss to your lips “I love you like I’ve never loved anyone too” you say, breaking off the kiss, pressing your naked bodies against each other even more.

“I don’t think I could live without you, you’re everything to me. I wake up, you’re the first thing in my mind, I go to bed, you’re the last person I think of, hell, I even dream about you. You’re the one, you’re the one I want to spend every day with” you look in his eyes for a second, because what do you respond to that.

“you’re the one for me too, and don’t worry, you don’t have to think about living without me, because you’re stuck with me, forever” you chuckle, pecking his lips, but you notice how he doesn’t chuckle back, leaving you worried for a split second. “Are you ok?”

“Marry me” he says suddenly

“What?”

“Marry me, I don’t want to think about spending another day without you, I want to be yours forever, to wake up next to you every day. You’re the reason I keep going when I feel like I can’t. I used to think needing to have a lucky charm was for people who didn’t have the right mentality, then I met you and I knew that it was bullshit, because you are my lucky charm, so, marry me, I’ll propose to you in a romantic way, how many times you want, but say yes, please, say you’ll marry me”

You felt all sort of emotions at the same time, you didn’t know what to say, what to do, so you kiss him fiercely, pouring all the love you have for him in that kiss, because you’d say yes, of course you would, you would say yes in a heartbeat the amount of times he wanted to.

You noticed he took a second to kiss you back, but when he did, it was just as passionate as yours. Your hands flew to his hair and his to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him. Eventually, you broke off the kiss to be able to breath “Yes”

“Yes?” he looked at you, a sparkle of hope ever so evident in his eyes

“Yes” you placed both hands in his face, pulling him towards you. You were about to kiss him once again when he reached for the drawer on his bedside table, shoveling through some things before pulling out a black box. He sat up, pulling the covers up to his waist and you copied his movements, pulling the blanket to cover your naked chest.

“Ma chéri, will you, officially, marry me?” tears filled your eyes as he opened the tiny little box that revealed a beautiful ring that he carefully took out and placed on your finger as soon as you nodded. He laid his hand on your cheek and kissed your lips in the softest way he has ever, resting your foreheads together. “Je t’aime” he kissed your cheek and all the way down to your neck, to that soft spot that made you moan and bring both his hands to his hair, letting the blanket fall. he kissed you and bit your lip slightly You laughed at him and he sucked on your lip to clean out the blood he had made.

Safe to say that no one heard from the two of you for hours.

[unluckywisher]

Okay um... I know Sylus isn't actually out yet and I don't really know if you're accepting asks rn (if not feel free to ignore this) but what would his reaction be to us turning tiny?

OF COURSE I AM ACCEPTING ASKS <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 AND AM I HAPPY THAT YOU ASKED :D I LOVE WRITING THE TINY SERIES AND SILLY FICS IN GENERAL :3c

How Sylus would react if you turned tiny (continuation of this):

Luckily for you, when it happened, his crow was flying by in its usual patrol. You waved your arms and jumped up and down to catch its attention, successfully. It landed next to you, confused.

It was now taller than you, but hey, it was fun to pet him this way. You jumped on its back and asked it to take you to Sylus so you'd be safe with him for the rest of the day.

Sylus saw the bird land on his window and he didn't see you at first.

"Any news?" He asked. It turned on its side, and he saw you on top of it, waving at him sheepishly.

"That is new." He smirked, walking over and putting his palm out for you to hop off the crow. "What happened?"

You explained how a Wanderer with strange fluctuations had affected you, and that your Hunters Watch said it would be over after 24 hours.

He laughed. Oh, he definitely was thinking of ways to seize those 24 hours to their full potential.

"Poor you, all at my mercy now." He brought you up to his eye level. "Let's have fun while it lasts."

Even the crow left, wanting no part in this, and leaving you with no choice but to stay. I mean, it couldn't be that bad, right? Sylus might be scary to many, but he wasn't going to be outright mean to you.

Why was he bringing you to the gun safe room.

"Sylus, what..."

He let you down on a table and opened it, grabbing a sniper rifle. It looked massive compared to you. He placed it next to you, nudging it forward.

"Try to shoot it." He pointed at one of the practice targets on the wall.

"What!? I can't!" You pointed at yourself.

"I know. That's what makes it so cute. Try." He smirked.

So that's what his plan was. To humiliate you. Great. You'd get payback after this, no matter what.

You stood next to the rifle and hoisted it to your hip, your arm just barely wrapping around it to reach the trigger. He had the decency to adjust the bipod for you, at least, otherwise you wouldn't have been able to aim it straight.

He moved behind you and leaned his elbows on the table to see from your point of view. "Whenever you want."

As if it was that easy. Pulling the trigger was a lot harder than it seemed like this. But-

Click.

You forgot about the recoil. There was no time to process the shot as it thrust you backwards, hitting Sylus' chest. Ah, so that's why he decided to position himself there.

He laughed, helping you stand back up. "Great shot." He pointed at the wall. The target had a new hole now, on its side.

"You-!" You turned around to hit his chest with your fists, which only made him laugh more. "Why didn't you warn me!?"

You were used to your guns, light and without much recoil, so you forgot it was a thing you should watch out for.

"You're fine, aren't you?" He was still laughing.

You crossed your arms and looked away, frowning and pouting. He lifted you up onto his forearm, your legs dangling on its side as you sat. "Now, now, don't be mad. I'll make it up to you."

He kissed the top of your head and brought you to the bedroom. He let you down on the bed, and you watched with curiosity as he rummaged on the drawers of your vanity - something he had bought for his home as soon as you two started dating, among other things.

He grabbed the box where you kept all your hair ties, clips and pins, and put it down next to you, opening it. He knelt by the side of the bed and rested his head on the mattress.

"Will this be enough to forgive me?"

That's right, some time ago you had told him you wanted to give him a silly hairstyle using your things, but he had never let you. It looked like the time was now.

Already forgetting his earlier 'transgression', you started grabbing things with a smile. His hair was soft under your hands, and you had to stop yourself from petting him altogether.

With a couple of hair ties, you gave him high pigtails, with a crow-shaped hair clip, you pinned his fringe back, and finally, to add the finishing touches, you braided a strand with colorful beads. Perfect.

"Well?" He said at the end.

"You are forgiven." You covered your mouth to giggle.

He looked at himself in the mirror and sighed. "It's getting late. Take these off and let's go to bed."

"First let me take some pictures." "No."

That was that, and you took off the accessories. At least the image would live rent-free in your mind.

You both went to bed shortly after, the comfy sheets enveloping you, as well as his arms, both keeping you pinned against his chest because, in his words, "I don't want you falling off the bed, how would you get back up?" Which he said with a smirk.

Condescending attitude or not, you were very snug and warm, and soon you fell asleep. Him as well.

The next day, you woke up to kisses on your forehead that trailed down to your lips. You were back to your regular size!

"Did I wake you up? I'm sorry," he said with his morning voice. He wasn't sorry at all.

"Mmm... Why are you still holding me so tight..." You muttered, half-asleep.

"Maybe the only reason you turned back to normal is because my Evol countered the Wanderer's effects. We shouldn't test the theory, so let's stay like this for a bit longer..."

[osamucide]

⊹ FOR SURE

RELATIVELY STABLE AND TENTATIVELY ABLE TO SAY FOR CERTAIN WHETHER THIS UNCERTAINTY IS FOR SURE

wc: 2k

cw: sad and probably ooc dazai but he’s my husband so i actually know how he falls apart, pretty straightforward references to anxiety+dissociation, references to self harm+suicidal ideation but nothing graphic, angst+hurt/comfort, dazai cries and then you feed him that's all

reid: a little spur of the moment something i started when i wasn’t feeling so hot a bit ago. ethel cain’s cover of this song has altered the course of my life anyway enjoy me projecting

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

He was quiet when he got home, which is uncharacteristic, unless he’s scheming. But there was no glint in his eyes and no menace behind his grin, only exhaustion. What’s more is there was no downcast expression, no particularly sluggish movement to suggest he was upset; granted, he would regularly go on performing his usual persona even if he was upset. He was always all moving puzzle pieces, all thick mask and mystery.

It’s a good thing you’ve learned to read him so plainly.

You owe it to the little shared space you’re in, wrapped in a blanket on the couch, reading a book of his as he shakes his coat off and tosses it across the small dining table with two chairs side-by-side at it instead of across from one another. Dazai usually hangs his coat up on the rack by the door, slips his shoes off mindlessly and comes to flop his entire body weight on top of you, but tonight he pulls his laces undone and leaves his shoes tucked neatly against the wall, walks by the back of the couch to press a ghostly kiss to the crown of your head, and heads straight to the bathroom, which he locks himself in.

You swallow as you hear the shower start. You had specifically picked out an apartment with a standing shower, no tub, when you moved in with him. You’d emptied it of razors a handful of times and you probably would a handful of times more, and you kept all of both of your medication in your bedside table. Still, you can no longer quite focus on the words in front of you.

So, you flick the television on. A little more noise in your brain helps tune out the shower that’s just that—a shower. He showers, most often, because he’s feeling strange and not because he needs to feel clean. Maybe he needs to feel clean, but not in a way that a shower will allow. He does it anyway. You wait.

When the water turns off and he doesn’t immediately bounce out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, singsonging which leftovers you should heat up for him, you turn the TV volume down a few notches. When it’s been five minutes or so, you find yourself in the kitchen putting day-old bibimbap in the microwave. When it’s been ten, you’re knocking on the door.

"Osamu?" Your voice is soft as your knock. "I waited for you to eat." Dirty trick, you know. But you also know he won’t otherwise; not on a night like this.

You hear a bit of shuffling before the bathroom door creaks open. His eyes are red, his nose flushed, and he’s rubbing his face with the corner of his towel like he’s just awoken from a nap. He’s got no bandages on. He nearly whispers, "You didn’t have to."

"Wanted to." You work the towel from his hands as he turns the light off. He’ll hide behind the darkness if nothing else, but it’s alright; you’ll let him. You pat water from his shoulders before you sling the towel around him like a cape. You whisper back, "I’ll get you clothes. Please get silverware, yes?"

You don’t give him much of a choice, but he’s in a state where he’s pliant enough to listen to corporeal orders. Getting silverware will be a marginally easier task than dressing for him right now.

After pulling a sweatshirt and pair of pajama pants out of your drawers—they’re his, or maybe yours, doesn’t really matter; what does matter is they cover as much skin as possible—you return to him on the couch, two bowls of cooling bibimbap with chopsticks stuck in them on coffee table. He’s got as much of his bare body under the towel as it will allow.

When you set next to him and peel the towel back he looks nearly catatonic. It spurs tears to your lash line, but you hold back. "Arms, please."

He shoves himself into the hoodie, tousling his wet mop of hair in the process, and takes the pants from you, which he stands robotically to step into. When he sits you wrap five fingers across the top of his flannel-clad thigh and press a short kiss to his cheek.

As if sparked by your touch, he curls himself into you.

You’re quick to receive him; you unlock his hands from where they latch behind your neck, gently, like everything else, and you lean back, back, until your head is hitting the pillow you were lounged up against earlier. His fingers scramble for somewhere to land; you will his weight down onto you, his shoulder and hip to tuck beside yours on the inside of the couch, his free arm and leg to sling across your body and his sweet face in the side of your neck. The water from his hair soaks through your shirt. You don’t care. You feel his breath; your fingertips trace circles along his spine, and your outside hand comes to tangle up with his. Eating will have to wait.

You don’t waste time asking if he wants to talk. If he did, he would’ve started by now.

So you focus on his breathing, and how lucky you are to have it ghosting along your collarbone. He’s gray, then white, then gray, then blue in the light of the TV as his thumb moves across the back of your hand, stiff, like it’s just been freed from paralysis.

You wait for his breath to shake; you know it will.

And he knows you know, because he squeezes your hand in a pulsing rhythm like a heartbeat. He hates this. He hates that you've seen him crumble so many times that you know exactly what he needs.

You say it so softly, again, almost a whisper: "I've got you, my love."

He doesn't want you to say it's okay or let it out or talk to me; this is another thing you know very well. He feels like he's floating away from what little sense of self he has to begin with and it's not okay, and he doesn't want to talk about it, he doesn't want to be told when to cry or not, but he does need reminded that you're here, and you're real, and so is he, and so is this thing that both have; you'll grab his ankles and pull him down out of the air. You always do. You always do.

So he cries anyway.

It's like hearing a foreign language leave his mouth. There's something so assured about Dazai even while he believes he's all smoke and mirrors and seeing—hearing—his voice jump between heaving breaths and cracking sobs has always jarred you in some way. Moreover, now that you're so attuned to the way he breaks, it fills you with a tired anger that you can't place on anything concrete. It's a frustration you're glad to shoulder with him, but a frustration no less. You would set fire to everything you could touch, strangle it all to death with your bare hands, if it guaranteed his peace. But you know he wouldn't want that, not anymore; you quell the rage inside you between strands of his hair, fingerpads combing over his scalp with all that anger channeled into love, pure love. For as terrible and rotten as he's convinced he is, he's truly turned you into something softer than you thought yourself capable of being.

You feel his heart racing double-time against yours; you briefly wish you had no chest, no ribs, no physical form to separate you from him, so that your heart could cradle his, give over to his troubled body the time of the breath yours breathes.

He's all jagged edges right now and you're holding him like he's made of cotton. It makes him worse, momentarily, and he tears his hand away from yours; he knows wrapping around you like this, like a boa constrictor around its prey, will make his arms lose feeling but he does it anyway, like he's worried you'll go up in a cloud of dust if he doesn't hold onto you tight enough. He knows it's probably uncomfortable for you, too, laying back on his knotted fingers while he shoves every piece of himself as close as he can get to you, but you don't say anything, don't even make a sound when he hyperventilates into your shoulder and pushes out pathetic whimpers between his stuttering. He knows his face is twisted into that expression he long ago deemed too ugly to look at in the mirror. He gasps like he's underwater, and you just press your cheek to his temple while you lose track of if the wetness on your shoulder is from his hair or his eyes. It doesn't matter. You love him so fucking much.

He weeps against you with his constraint surrendered, loud but muffled by your shirt, at least until whatever movie was on is over. When he finally lifts his head, your eyes flutter open. You hadn't realized you closed them.

You tilt to look at him; the seam of your shirt collar is imprinted into his cheek. His bangs have dried wildly; you push them away from his eyes which are raw with sorrow, and Dazai's hands unclasp from behind you, settling back to how they first were with one curled up into the couch and the other interlaced with yours. He's devastatingly beautiful. You can't help the ghost of the sad smile you wear; it's because he's so gorgeous, and also you want to let him know you're content to be here—not content with what's upset him, not at all, but content to pick him up and help him haul himself forward. He does not reflect the smile back to you. You don't blame him.

"Let's eat." You leave the please unspoken, but it hangs there anyway.

"It's cold," he complains, still distant, but with a glimmer of a pout you think may be him. He's not getting out of it, though.

You sit him up, keep him close to your side and pick up a bowl; it's indeed cold, but you take a bite anyway, as if to show him it's not so bad. When you hold sliced carrot and broccoli to his lips, he looks at you like you're trying to feed him dirt, but opens his mouth anyway.

And it may as well be medicine going down. Not that he particularly cares for reheated and recooled leftover bibimbap, but your fingers being at the other end of the chopsticks makes it appealing. More than appealing. Delightful, even. He never really understood how things like food, music, or art could be healing until he met you and you doodles silly pictures of him on slow Sunday mornings, sang old love songs to him while you shooed him away from the stove as you cooked dinner, fed him leftovers in your shared home, on your shared couch, surrounded by all the things that were both yours and his, sweatshirts, books, blankets, chopsticks alike.

And he tells you that in his own way.

"Heat it up again for me? Please?"

He speaks the plea this time, and you grin—not sad this time, but wholly, as he relights slowly in front of you. And as already established, you'd do anything for him.

"Mhm."

"I love you," he blurts. Tags it on. You stand, gathering both bowls, still grinning.

"I love you." No question about any of it. You press a kiss to the crown of his head. He unfurls the blanket from where you'd slung it over the back of the couch earlier, picking up the remote to flick through the channels, finally breathing steadily as he waits for you to return from the kitchen. Your kitchen, his kitchen. He hears the microwave hum, in another room, not on another planet. He knows he'll be alright.

[ohmyitsfaith]

The sunshine and the grump / Part 3

Pairing: Sparrow!Ben Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: Your curiousity for the Umbrella Academy grows and after an argument with the Sparrows and your husband, you decide to seek some answers… alone.

Warnings: some arguments, slight angst, maybe?

Word count: 3.5k

A/n: thank you so much for liking this idea so much that you wanted to see it turn into a series. I can't explain how excited I am for this! Hope you enjoy!

You jogged up the stairs after being thrown out of Sparrows’ little meeting. You needed to figure out who this Jennifer was. You weren’t worried per se, you knew Ben was an asshole, but he wouldn’t cheat on you. The easiest explanation would be that she was Ben’s ex. In that case, it would be a matter of how the Umbrellas knew that. But then why would they call you, of all people, Jennifer?

Things didn’t really make much sense. Yet.

You opened the door to Ben’s old room. If there would be anything about this Jennifer that tied him to Ben, then it would be there. You looked around. Some books, clothes, a simple bed. Not much left there after you moved in. As you closed the door behind you, you saw that on the door was a drawing. It was a side profile of a woman. Looking at it from closer, there was a name written there. “Y/n.”

It honestly didn’t look much like your side profile, but there was some resemblance. You looked around at his desk. There was a notebook, its pages filled with notes about his training. Next to it, a travel guide, presumably from Sloane. A page was marked by a small slip of paper. Opening it, you saw that it was actually your honeymoon destination, with some places circled in red marker. You smiled at the memory, wishing for those happier times to be back.

Putting the book down, you pulled out one of the drawers on it. There were some papers, insignificant to your investigation. You did find a receipt from a bar. On it was the date of the first time you met him. You didn’t think Ben was the sentimental type, but maybe you were wrong.

You closed that drawer and looked at his dresser. Some old pictures of him and his siblings in their sparrow uniforms, back when they were just kids. You hummed, not sure why it was still there instead of in your room. But maybe Ben didn’t really want to remember the trauma that Reginald caused them by training them and sending them to dangerous missions even before they reached puberty.

Understandable.

You opened the first drawer. In it were clothes that Ben outgrew and hidden between his socks and underwear, a pack of condoms. You huffed a laugh and took it out, pocketing it for later. In the second drawer were his paints, brushes and papers.

“Wonder why he doesn’t paint anymore” you hummed, picking up some of his finished paintings.

They were quite good as well. Some about landscapes, some about people. There were abstract ones as well, all seemingly portraying dark feelings. Your heart ached for your husband. He was deeply traumatized, you knew that before you even met him. All the Sparrows were.

That was kind of why you were so thankful to be there. You tried to spend time with them when you weren’t working, trying to work through their traumas. Some of them were better off than others.

Of course, the hardest to work through was Ben. His mean exterior was at first a trauma response, but by now it became almost vital to his being. The only time he could really be who he was once upon a time, was when he was with you. Just you. In the safety of the four walls of your bedroom.

Maybe sometime in the future, he would be able to show his true colors. Maybe.

In the lowest drawer, you found some empty canvases. You flipped through them to see whether there were some paintings hidden there. But not finding anything, you pushed in the drawer. That’s when you heard the clatter. Something else was in the drawer.

You pulled it out again, and even though on the top, there was nothing, you reached into the drawer. Back as far as you could until you touched something. It felt like paper. You pulled your hand out and took every canvas out of the drawer. This time when you reached in, you could grab the paper.

Pulling it out, you saw that it wasn’t just one. It was a bunch. They were rolled up and held together by a rubber band.

“Why was this hidden?” you mumbled, confused.

Taking the rubber band off of it, you put the papers down on the floor, sitting in front of them. The first paper was a painting. A young woman with their back turned. They had your hair color.

The second paper was a side profile, like the one on the door. This one was more than line-art, it had color to it. They had their eyes closed, but once again, the hair color resembled yours.

The third one was of eyes. They were beautifully detailed and the color was almost the same as yours.

The fourth was of a hand. The fifth a painting of the same woman and a black void. The sixth was similar to the fifth, but the void had a form this time and the woman was reaching for it. The seventh was of the woman, but this time with a cat. The eighth was of the woman holding flowers, her face concealed by the flowers. The ninth of two hands holding each other. The tenth of the woman sitting alone in a bar, her back turned to the viewer, but everything else was a blur around her. She stood out. The eleventh was of the woman standing in front of a building.

And the twelfth and last one? That was the one that made you realize just what these paintings were. It depicted a woman lying on the floor, tiled exactly like the one at the store you met Ben. The woman was shadowed by a form standing in the way of the lights. A hand was also painted, reaching for the woman. But what stuck out was that the shadow showed tentacles and two of them holding two forms.

It was the day you met. Exactly like it happened.

In this painting as well, you could finally see your features reflected back to you. Your eyes, your lips, your nose and hair? It was all you. And so, the other pictures were from your relationship up until your getting together (presumably).

You went back to the paintings of you with the void. Was the void Ben? And you were reaching for him? Your heart ached for the man. He was clearly not of good opinion on himself.

“Oh darling…” you sighed, then shaking your head, you rolled up the papers.

You decided to take them with you. Even though you didn’t find anything about this Jennifer, you still feel like your search was somewhat successful. After all, you did find some paintings about you and Ben. Mostly you.

A couple hours later, when the sun had already set, you tried to find your husband. You searched for him in many places, your room, the kitchen, the training grounds, but couldn’t find him anywhere. You were almost ready to give up, when you heard one of Fei’s birds. You looked up at the sky, but couldn’t see where it could’ve come from. You headed inside the house, slightly shivering from being outside in only a T-shirt.

You turned to go up the stairs, when you heard the front door open. You looked back, right at Marcus.

“Hi Marcus” you greeted, but he only nodded in acknowledgment. Rolling your eyes, you turned back and headed up to the roof.

There, you finally found your husband. He was standing, looking down at the busy evening street.

“Hey there” you called out to him.

“Hi, Y/n” he turned to you, a small smile coming to his lips. He reached out, beckoning you. “What you got there?”

“I…” you looked down at the papers under your arm. “I’m sorry…”

“You’re sorry?” Ben’s eyebrows furrowed. “What for?”

“I went to your old room” you said, standing next to him, holding the papers. “I wanted to see if you had any information on this Jennifer, who the Umbrellas think…”

“You could’ve asked me” he said and you felt his irritation build.

“You were busy” you looked up at him meaningfully. “But anyway, I didn’t find anything about that. What I did find…” you offered the papers to him. “Were these paintings.”

Ben looked at your hands for a second, before reaching out and taking the paintings from you. He unfolded them.

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop” you said quickly, your guilt eating at you. “I just… I found them, though they might be what I was searching for, but turns out they’re just paintings of… me.”

“These…” he said slowly. “You…”

“I’m sorry” you whispered.

“You shouldn’t have snooped around in my room” he sighed and you could tell that he was suppressing his anger.

“I know. I’m sorry. The only reason I took them anyway was because they looked so… full of emotions” you explained. “I know that’s not an excuse, but I just wanted you to know that I like them.”

“Okay” he took a deep breath. “I need to have a meeting with the other Sparrows.”

“Oh.”

“I think you should find Grace and eat dinner until we’re done.”

“Okay” you nodded, looking at your feet. “I’m sorry.”

With that, you left Ben on the roof. You knew you were at fault, so you didn’t blame him for reacting that way. So instead, you just looked for Grace as he advised. You would make it up for him, you were sure about that.

You looked in the kitchen, where Grace usually was. But she wasn’t there. So you looked in the washing area. But no one was there. By then, you were hungry as well, so you just made your own dinner instead.

But you barely took a bite out of it, when Sloane came running into the kitchen.

“Have you seen Marcus?” she asked, looking a bit frantic.

“No” you shook your head. “Not for the past thirty minutes. He has to be somewhere here though. I saw him coming in through the door. Why?”

“We can’t find him anywhere.”

“What?” you stood up immediately. “Nowhere? Even in his room?”

“That’s where we first checked” Sloane shook her head. “We also checked the training grounds, the rooftop, the living room. He’s nowhere to be found.”

“How can that be?” you followed her as she went back to the rest of the Sparrows. “I saw him come in!”

“Maybe the Umbrellas took him” Ben suggested.

“How could they?” you asked, confused. “Nobody has been inside the mansion since you kicked their butt.”

“Maybe they had a way to sneak in” Fei suggested. “They did arrive here without us noticing.”

“I don’t get it though. The alarms would’ve blared if they came in any way.”

“This is clearly their plan” Ben had enough of your guessing. “They took Marcus so they could take the mansion for themselves.”

“What? That’s ridiculous” you scoffed. “They looked pretty beaten, I doubt they would’ve done anything so soon.”

“How would you know, Y/n?” Ben said suddenly. “You’re not a superhero, you don’t know how fast they could heal.”

“Yeah” you agreed, slightly hurt by his tone. “But they didn’t seem the type…”

“The world isn’t so black and white as you see it” he interrupted you, which he never did before. “Now please, leave this discussion to the professionals.”

“I just wanted to help!”

“We don’t need your help, Y/n” he turned away from you and to the rest of the Sparrows.

You looked at him for a second, hurt by his words. Then you puffed your chest, “Fine” you said and then turned around.

You walked out of the room and headed straight for the door. If he didn’t need your help and you couldn’t ask his help, then you would help yourself.

When you reached Hotel Obsidian, the only place you knew would be your refuge, you didn’t even hope to find the Umbrellas there. But you were so thankful to see them. Not because you really trusted them, but at least you would get some answers.

“Hi, could I get a room for one?” you asked at the reception and offered the money to him.

“Here you go. Second floor, 25th” the receptionist gave you the key.

You sighed, then walked up to the three men, who were sitting around a table. You gathered all your strength, all the asshole energy that you learned from the Sparrows and all your rage that filled you when Ben shut you down.

“Hey Umbrellas” you greeted.

“Um…” the big guy, Luther, if you remembered well was looking at you dumbly, his mouth full.

“Oh, hi! Jennifer” the guy who wore a cowboy hat, when he was there at the academy was no longer wearing it.

“Not Jennifer” you pointed out. “I’m Y/n.”

“Oh yeah, you did say that, sorry about that” he laughed airily. “I’m Klaus. And these are Luther and Diego” he said pointing at the big guy first and then at wallmart-batman.

“Oh, hi” you greeted them as well, your strength leaving you for a bit. “Actually I came to ask about that.”

“About what?” Diego asked, his mouth full.

“You keep calling me Jennifer” you looked at them. “Why?”

“Oh…” they looked at each other. “Actually, that’s a long story. Maybe we should talk about that in the morning?” Klaus offered.

“I mean… sure” you nodded, saddened by his offer, but also a little relieved. Your heart was already beating fast in your chest and didn’t know how long you could hold on.

“How did you know we would be here?” Luther asked, when he finished his food.

“Oh, I didn’t” you shook your head. “I just… well kinda ran away from home.”

“Was it horrible there?” Klaus leaned in, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I would understand, Ben here is an asshole.”

“Actually, he’s my husband” you defended him. “He’s not bad, but… yeah, today he was on edge as well.”

“He’s your what now?” Diego blinked, surprised by your revelation.

“My husband.”

“Oh, yeah! Forgot that Ben-er-ino got married, that’s so cute!” Klaus clapped his hands. “Oh, then you’re our sister-in-law!” he gasped.

“Uh…” you blinked. “I’m not though? You guys… I don’t know how you know my husband, but…”

“I’ll explain in the morning” Klaus interrupted, standing up. “But now, my bed is calling me. Excuse me.”

You watched him go, blinking confusedly. “Is he always like this?” you turned to the other two.

“You’ll get used to it” Luther sighed then got up as well. “Hey, uh… is Sloane okay?”

“Y-yeah” you nodded.

“Good…” Luther said slowly. “Well, I’ll be going… good night.”

“I guess” you sighed and then headed to your own room.

In the morning, you headed down for breakfast, only to find Klaus, Diego and the little guy, Five if your memory is correct, already there.

“Good morning, sister-in-law!” Klaus greeted you enthusiastically.

“Again, I’m not- whatever” you sighed, shaking your head. Instead you grabbed a few of the breakfast items and sat down at their table.

“What are you doing here?” Five asked.

“Trouble in paradise” Klaus supplied instead of you. “She had a fight with her husband, Ben. Can you believe? Our Ben! Married!”

“Well, he’s not our Ben” Five corrected. “Our Ben is dead, remember?”

“He’s what?!” you exclaimed, shocked.

“Oh yeah” Klaus nodded, gazing into the void. “He died when he was seventeen.”

“That’s why we were so shocked to see him. And you” Diego explained.

“Me?!”

“Oh yeah” Klaus sighed. “The whole thing started with Ben getting to know Jennifer when we were sneaking out at night. They knew each other for about a year before Jennifer was affected by some… let’s just say unknown substance that turned her into a monster. The umbrella academy was called to help and then… one thing followed the other and Ben died” Klaus rushed to the end, clearly uncomfortable with the memory.

“Ah…” you nodded after a little bit of silence. “So… she was the cause? And I…”

“You look a lot like her” Klaus nodded. “But you aren’t her! You’re Y/n.”

“Yeah” you nodded.

“Where’s Luther?” Vanya suddenly approached the table. “And why is she-”

“Probably out for… a run” Diego looked her up and down. And there was a good reason for his reaction. She got a haircut.

“Ooh! Love the haircut!” Klaus smiled.

Vanya smiled appreciatively, then looked at you. “So, why are you here?”

“Uh… ran away from home” you said simply.

“Good, ‘cause I talked to Marcus last night” she said, mostly looking at the rest of the Umbrellas.

“Oh… so he was with you?”

“Wait, what? You talked to the enemy?” Diego asked, not looking at you.

“Well technically aren’t you doing the same?” Vanya asked. “And anyway, somebody had to do something.”

“Y/n is different though” Klaus waved his hand around, but clearly there was already a lot of tension between Diego and Vanya.

“Who elected you Vanya?” he asked.

“It’s uh… Viktor.”

“Who’s Viktor?” Diego furrowed his brows.

For a moment you watched as they all thought deeply.

“I am” Vanya- Viktor said finally.

“Oh” you whispered in understanding.

“It’s who I’ve always been” he looked around at everyone. “Uh… is that an issue for anyone?”

“No I’m cool” Diego said.

“Yeah, me too. Cool” Klaus smiled.

“Truly happy for you, Viktor” Five said softly, then raised his eyebrows. “But last time I checked, you don’t speak for the family.

“Okay, well, it’s fine, okay? Marcus totally gets it” Viktor sat down.

“Does he?” you scoffed. Marcus was the only Sparrow you couldn’t see eye-to-eye with.

“Well, he doesn’t want a war any more than we do” he tried to explain.

“Doesn’t he?” you furrowed you eyebrows.

“Even though Y/n doesn’t belong here, I have to agree with her” Diego looked at you for a split second. “He tried to homicide us!”

“Well… so did Lila and you had a kid with her” Klaus added.

“That’s not the point!” Diego put his hand up.

“Listen, we made a deal” Viktor interrupted them. “He’s gonna give back Five’s briefcase, then we’re gonna get out of the timeline!”

“Will he?” you asked, doubtful.

“Yes, we’re gonna meet later today for the, uh, the handover” he confirmed.

“Listen, Marcus tells me nothing, but I know him” you stopped him. “This is a trap. He won’t give nothing to you, maybe a bit of beating.”

“If he tells you nothing, then you clearly have no say in whether or not he will give us the briefcase” Viktor looked at you, glaring.

“Honestly, he doesn’t look like the type to just give it to you” Diego agreed with you. “But I say we turn this on them! We can fight them, wipe them out!”

“Hey! That’s my family you’re talking about!” you glared at Diego.

“Does it look like I care?” Diego scoffed.

“You’re going to do none of that” Viktor stopped him. “You couldn’t anyway.”

“Hey!”

“Yeah, instead, how about you bond with your spawn?” Klaus offered.

“Alleged spawn!” Diego corrected him.

“I will get the briefcase” Viktor spoke a bit louder, so the others would pay attention to him. “And then we’ll go back and fix the timeline.”

“Hey! We’re not going anywhere!” Five denied immediately. “This is a perfectly acceptable timeline!”

“Yeah, why don’t you go tell that to Allison, who’s upstairs, grieving her daughter, who doesn’t even exist here!” Viktor raised his voice.

“Not to mention we’ve been replaced by a bunch of blobs and cubes and birds and shit!” Diego commented.

“Hey! That’s my family!” you glared at him for the second or third time since the discussion started.

“I don’t care!” Diego raised his voice. “You’re all a bunch of assholes!”

“You know nothing about us!” you growled.

“Newsflash, geniuses! This isn’t about us!” Five yelled. “Take a look around. If you hadn’t noticed, there’s no doomsday! There’s no apocalypse. The sun is shining! Birds are doing whatever the hell birds do. That’s all that matters. We’re done messing with time” he took a breath. “And I’m officially retired.”

He got up, leaving your table. You thought only for a second, then got up to follow him.

“Hey, wait!” you yelled after him. “Five, right?”

“Yeah” he nodded. “What do you want?”

“Well…” you blinked. “I just… you seem like the only one who knows about all this time-space thing…”

“Yeah” he nodded, seeming impatient.

“I just… I wanted to ask you…”

“Spit it out!”

“What would happen to us if you did go back?” you rushed out, then took a breath. “If you changed the timeline… Would we all…”

“Die?” he asked and you nodded. “I wouldn’t worry about that. If we changed the timeline, you wouldn’t even exist. Meaning you wouldn’t remember any of this.”

“Oh” you looked down at your shoes.

“Well if that’s all…” he started, when suddenly the power went out.

Though it came back immediately, you saw the way Five looked around. Was this a bad sign?

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Taglist: @snixx2088, @lxkeeeee, @kimm4710, @popstarbarbiee, @inkedeye2345, @sagestack, @koshi-sama

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Office Romance: Part Two

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.3k

Warnings: smut, fingering

Summary: Work is so much more fun when you're sneaking around with your boss.

PART ONE

Squares Filled: clothing: lace (2021) for @mcukinkbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Should you be doing this? If anyone catches you, then you and Natasha could lose your jobs. She is very good at what she does and has often stated how much she loves it, so are you willing to risk all of that just because you have a major crush on her? Based on what happened in the elevator, it’s safe to assume she likes you too, otherwise, why would she stick her tongue down your throat?

Are you really going to do this? She asked you to come into work early today but you know it’s not going to be for work. Who knows what’s going to happen when you walk into her office, but are you prepared to deal with the consequences? Fuck it. If you’re going to do this, then you may as well do it properly.

You set your things by your desk and notice a light underneath Natasha’s office door. The rest of the office is dark since no one else is in so it’s just you and her. Her blinds are closed so the only indication that she’s in her office is the light underneath her door. You grab your makeup pouch and make sure you look presentable while fixing your shirt. You loosen two buttons to make your breasts pop, and you fix your hair to give it more volume.

Once ready, you walk over to her office and knock twice on the door.

“Come in,” she says.

You open her door and frown when you don’t see her at her desk. She is by the filing cabinets with her ass sticking out. She is bent over so she can put some files away in the bottom drawer. Motherfucker did this to you on purpose. Her skirt is already short enough so you’re able to see the lace underwear she is wearing just slightly peeking out.

“Fuck,” you whisper.

“Close the door.”

You do as you’re told and she straightens up before facing you. Her shirt also has the first few buttons undone so her breasts pop. Everything about this woman gets you going, it’s pathetic. Never has another woman made you feel things than this woman has, and she’s only kissed you. You’ve gotten home runs with other women but none of them compare to her.

“Thank you for coming in. Please, have a seat,” she gestures to the chairs on the other side of her desk.

You walk to the desk but you don’t sit down like she wants you to. You lean against the desk just in case you need to make a quick escape. It’s not like you want to, but you’d like the option just in case.

“How do you like my skirt? I got it yesterday,” she smirks.

“Yeah, it looks really good,” you nod nervously.

Natasha walks closer to you which makes your heart beat faster. She reaches out and touches the ends of your hair gently.

“Do I make you nervous?” You can only nod. “There’s nothing to be nervous about. You do want this, don’t you?” Of course, you do. You’ve wanted this since the first week you’ve started working here. Still, you can only nod in response. “Use your big girl words.”

Your mouth goes dry at her dominance.

“Yes, I want this.”

“I know exactly how to make you relax.”

She pins you to the desk and leans in to press her lips to your neck. She skips being gentle and starts nibbling on your skin with her bright red lips. She pulls the skin into her mouth as she sucks while running her hands down your freshly pressed dress. She grabs your hips and lifts you to sit on top of her desk. You tip your head back and moan quietly from the feeling of her on you.

“Relax,” she whispers into your ear.

She moves her lips to yours and kisses you passionately. You’re too distracted by her lips that you don’t feel her hands roam underneath your dress. She dips her hand between your legs and easily finds your clit which is throbbing with need. You gasp and try to pull back from her but she chases you to keep you at her mercy. Her thumb rubs your clit in hard fast circles, causing you to moan her name.

“Do you like this?”

“Yes, please… More.”

She pulls your panties to the side and runs two fingers up and down your slit, spreading as much wetness as she caner you.. 

“Already so wet for me.”

She kisses you again just as she slides her middle finger into your pussy. You grip the sides of the desk tightly and she smirks knowing how to make you break. She slides her index finger inside you alongside her other fingers before placing her thumb on your clit. That’s when you break and grab her hair tightly. You yank her head back gently and kiss her forcefully as if you have all the control here.

“Fuck, Natasha!” you gasp against her lips.

“You want to come?”

“Yes.”

“Say please,” she smirks.

“Fuck,” you gasp, “please!”

“Come for me, sweetheart.”

She curls her fingers and rubs the spot that kicks you over the edge. You tighten your legs around her hand as you spill over her fingers. She keeps them inside you to let you ride out your high before she pulls them out. She immediately puts her fingers in her mouth to taste you.

“How do I taste?” you ask.

“Fuck, so good.” She sinks to her knees to clean up your mess when you see the lights turn on in the office. People are just starting to come in which means your activities must come to an end. She chuckles and uses your knees to help her get up. “I guess we’ll have to finish this some other time.”

She walks over to her window to open it to filter the room with fresh air. Her hair is still in perfect place despite you yanking on it, her makeup isn’t ruined despite you two making out, and she looks like nothing happened to her. You, on the other hand, look and feel like a mess. Your hair must be tangled, your makeup is smudging, and your clothes are a bit wrinkled. How does she look this good afterward?

You quickly smooth down your hair and use the mirror in her office to fix your makeup. She grabs some files from her desk and hands them over to you.

“These files need to be digitized, please.”

“Sure,” you whisper.

She walks over to her desk and sits down as if she didn’t finger fuck you five minutes ago. You awkwardly walk out of her office and back to your desk. You’re not sure what to make of this because you’re still so turned on. You’d want nothing more than to go back into her office and take her but you have to be professional.

Wanda comes in and pauses next to your desk. You look fine but you know she has a keen sense of knowing when something is up with you. You’re so distracted by the feel of her lips on you and her fingers in you that you don’t feel Wanda bend down next to you.

“First your makeup, now this? You could have at least sprayed some perfume. You reek of sex.”

“Wanda!” you gasp and hit her arm.

She laughs and takes a seat at her desk which is across from you. Taking her words into consideration, you grab some perfume from your bag and spray it a few times on yourself.

“What would you do without me?”

“I don’t know,” you chuckle.

“So, how was it?” You shake your head because you don’t want to talk about the way you fucked your boss in front of your coworkers. Wanda looks at Natasha’s office and smirks. “Don’t look now but boss lady is watching you.”

You don’t have to look at her to feel her eyes on you. You straighten your back and smirk knowing you have her attention on you. This is going to make work a lot more interesting.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[thaleleah]

𝓖𝓸𝓭𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼 (𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓣𝔀𝓸)

Pairing: Billy The Kid x Fem!Nun!Reader

Warnings: ***NON-CON***, Dub-Con, Dark!Billy, Virgin!Reader, Oral (female receiving), Fingering, P in V, Corruption Kink, Creampie, Possessive Behavior, Masturbation, Wet Dreams/Sex Dreams, Seduction, Emotional Manipulation, Religion and Religious Beliefs, Explicit talk of gunshot wounds, blood, and the bullet's removal, Mention of physical abuse/child abuse (not from Billy), Childhood Trauma, Mention of alcoholism, Moral/Religious conflict within one's self, My bad Spanish, Nun breaking her vows, Probably too quick of a healing process to be fucking someone but I'm not a doctor so 🤷🏻‍♀️, Using the word "drawers" instead of "panties" which is kinda cringe to me but I wanted to be somewhat accurate

Word Count: 9.5K

A/N: So sorry this took so long! 🥺 But I hope you guys like it and I'm hopeful that the next part won't take nearly as long to get out.

Summary: When Billy stumbles into your clinic, hurt and in desperate need of care and refuge, you don't hesitate to help him. Perhaps this is God's will. Perhaps He has brought him into your life to help heal the parts of him that the cruelness of the world has soiled and broken. You are a healer by trade, both of the physical body and of faith. If this is to be God's mission for you, then it shall be done. How could you have possibly known that the young man who begged for help that fateful night would turn out to be the devil himself?

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The ride to Joe’s cabin only takes a few hours, and the sun is high in the sky by the time Sam helps you down from your seat. You hastily make your way to the front door, opening the latch and pushing it open, keeping it propped with a heavy rock laid by the door while Sam opens the back of the wagon. The journey inside is a bit more difficult this time. Billy gasps in pain when you stumble on the front stairs, tripping over your tunic and jerking his body down accidentally as a result. He’s breathing harshly when you and Sam are able to lay him down on your brother’s bed and you once again find yourself whispering apology after apology as you lift his shirt and the bandage to check on his wound. 

Thankfully, there’s no tears or rips. You were only able to bring a little bit of the suture material and enough extra bandages in your bag to get you by. The clinic has limited materials as it is, so you only packed what you thought the clinic could spare. It’s enough to completely redo his stitches if necessary, but you’re hoping it won’t ever come to that. 

Billy’s safe here now, he will not be leaving the bed until he’s well enough to start moving around on his own. 

His hand comes down to rest on top of your own, pushing your hand down and forcing you to recover the stitches with the bandage as his fingers curl around your palm. 

“Hey,” He says softly, calling your eyes to his tired ones. “I'm okay.”

His hand is gentle on yours, thumb lazily sweeping back and forth across the back of it. You pull it away, smoothing your tunic down again just for something else to do with your hands.

You didn’t even notice when Sam left the room, too preoccupied with checking on Billy’s wound, but your head turns at the sound of his boots on the steps of the porch. He steps back into the cabin, a crate held in his hands filled with food and other supplies and you let out a grateful sigh at the sight of it.  

“Thank you, Sam,” You say, watching as he deposits the crate just on the side of the doorway. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you helping us. You’re a good man,” 

Sam smiles shyly at your words of praise, and out of the corner of your eye you notice how Billy’s head snaps towards him. 

“Of course, Sister y/n. Anything for you and the other Sisters,”

“Are you sure this is alright? You don’t need it for your delivery?”

“No,” He says with a shake of his head. “I packed it for you to have,”

You cup Sam’s cheek in thanks and shoot another glance towards Billy just to make sure he’s okay. His face is turned to the side again, pressing against the pillow for comfort, but you can see how his eyes are still on you, following your every move as you follow Sam out of the cabin. 

Poor Billy, he must still be so nervous. So on edge about being hunted like he's nothing more than a rabid animal needing to be put down. Hopefully now that he's safe and out of harm's way, he can find some peace.

You walk Sam out, watching as he checks the horses and settles himself on the seat. 

“I’ll come back in two weeks,” He promises. “That should be enough time for the search for him to wind down. Can't let people get suspicious. I have another delivery to do 'round then. I'll bring you some extra food and supplies.” 

You wave as he nudges the wagon into motion and wait until he’s completely out of view over the hill before heading back inside and closing the door behind you. 

Billy’s still watching you as you move about the main living area. Your brother’s bed has a direct line of eyesight into the front area, so Billy doesn’t even have to move to be able to watch you as you settle your bag and extra blankets onto the floor. You’ve told Joe before about how dangerous you think it is to have his bed in clear sight of the entrance, but he’s told you many times that he doesn’t like being told what to do.

“Besides, you know what it was like,” You remember him telling you. “Sleeping soundly in that house was never an option. And that feeling never goes away. If someone ever tries to break in here and attack me, I’ll already be awake and ready with my gun pointed at them before they even make it through the front door.”

As much as it pained you to hear, you know the truth of it. You’ve gotten better, you think. Whereas when you were younger, you would wake from the slightest noise, terrified of what might come after it. But now you find you can sleep through the night with very little problems. It’s not perfect - some nights are harder than others, but you credit God and the wonderful family you’ve found at the convent. They gave you rest, taught you to give your fears to the Lord so that he may take the burden they bear from you. They gave you peace in the world when you had none, and for that you will be eternally grateful. 

Joe has not been so lucky, choosing instead to lock himself away in solitude rather than give his grievances up for absolvement. You pray for him every day despite his reluctance, asking God for guidance on his behalf.

The entire cabin is almost bare, sparse furniture just enough to be convenient. Despite your prayers, you know the ghost of the past still hovers over your brother's shoulder and even still, you wonder how he can stand to call this place a home with how unloved it feels.

“How do you know Sam?” Billy asks, and the cabin is small enough that his voice carries from room to room.

“He and his father run one of the markets in town,” You reply. You make your way into the bedroom, pulling the now rumpled blankets from under Billy's body and adjusting them so they lay over him neatly. “They’re our suppliers.”

“You seem very close,” Billy says, absently running his fingers over the edge of the blanket.

“Oh, well, he’s a dear friend,”

“You sure you can trust him?”

You nod, a small twinge offended at the implication of Sam being untrustworthy. After what he just risked to get you both here and Billy still doubts him? You stomp the feeling down just as quick as it flares. “Sam is incredibly loyal. He would never betray us,”

Billy’s mouth turns up in an unpleasant curl. “I think he likes you,”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “I should hope so. Otherwise, he is a very good actor,”

He huffs a small laugh at your attempt at a joke, but it doesn’t really sound joyful. “Not like that,”

It takes a second for your brain to register his vague words, but when they do your mouth falls open in shock at the bold statement. “No. No, no. Certainly not. Not me anyway,”

Oops. Perhaps you’ve said too much. 

Now it’s Billy’s brows that furrow and he stares at you, hard, as if trying to read your mind about what you’ve meant. They shoot up as it clicks for him, a smirk pulling at his lips at the realization. “Him and one of the other nuns?”

“No!” You gasp. “Absolutely not. Sam just– bless his heart. He… has romantic feelings for one of the Sisters.”

“She doesn’t feel the same?”

Not exactly. Sam and Sister Ann have a connection that anyone with eyes can’t deny. They help complete each other and help each other grow in ways that one can only hope to experience in this life. Sister Ann has even confided in you that, while she doesn’t regret joining the church, she can’t help but think that if she had met Sam sooner then she would have said her vows to him instead of straight to God. 

“It’s not that simple,” You settle with. “She’s a woman of faith and she’s spoken for by the church. They can’t be together regardless of what she may feel. Sam understands.”

Billy hums, a low and displeased sound. “Hm. Poor Sam,”

You’re not quite sure how to respond to that, so you don’t. Billy’s still frowning, so you tell him he should rest some more while you go fix up some lunch for you both. You’re happy to find that the simple stew made from some deer meat your brother had stored before his current trip is enough to cut the sudden unexpected tension and return him to good spirits. 

Things are calmer now that you’ve arrived at the cabin. There’s very little risk of unwanted visitors and your brother’s last letter puts him deep in Texas and considering venturing upwards, so you're confident that he won’t be coming home anytime soon. 

You’ve heard stories about Billy the Kid. Your patients like to talk, surprisingly gossipy considering most should be too sick or too involved with their pain to speak. But they push through their uncomfortableness to tell you stories of the young outlaw whose face is on the Most Wanted posters in at least three separate counties. 

“He’s a ruthless killer.”

“A no-good murderer.”

“A good person who’s just had back luck.”

“A kindly fellow. He helped scare off some kids who were robbin’ me!”

And as you talk to Billy more and more, you can’t help but agree with the last two opinions. Billy is a sweetheart - respectful and kind like any man should be towards any woman despite her role in society. He listens with rapt attention as you tell him stories of your travels as you clean and re-bandage his wound. He nods when you tell him about the difference between the Utah territory and the Montana territory, and laughs when you tell him about your very memorable trip to Mexico where you climbed off the wagon and didn’t even take one step before face planting in a pile of mud. His grin is almost blinding when you tell him about the day you and your brother reunited after two years apart. 

“Your brother’s name is Joe?” He asks.

“Mhm,” You confirm, leaning back into the chair you’ve placed next to the bed. 

“My brother’s name was Joe, too,”

“Oh,” You smile despite the twinge in your heart. The word ‘was’ is almost devastating to hear. “It’s a good name. A strong name.”

Billy nods and his voice is barely above a whisper as he responds, “Yeah, it is,” and you think you can physically see the light die in his eyes as he thinks about it, the look of happiness he had just a second ago completely snuffed out by past memories.  

You don’t want to pry, it’s not your place. But then he glances at you with those big blue eyes of his and all you see is hurt. God has put you on this Earth to be a healer, and you think that turning away now would be doing both Him and the broken man in front of you a disservice. 

“Was he older or younger?” You ask, softly. “Your brother,”

“Younger,” he responds, and your heart breaks more at the rueful smile he sends you. “He died. Consumption. My mother too.”

Oh. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Billy. I can only imagine how hard that must have been,”

He doesn’t say anything. He’s not even looking at you now, just staring off into the distance as if somewhere else. 

You lean forward, placing a careful hand on his arm. “Tell me about them?”

This time, the smile is real.

You learn over the next few days that Billy’s faith is in even worse shape than you feared. 

For most, the presence of God is never fully gone from their hearts. Most who you’ve talked to who are rocky with their faith feel abandoned, cast aside as if The Heavenly Father were to play favorites and they’ve somehow found themselves on the losing side of the ‘sibling’ competition. Others feel betrayed by Him - those who have suffered great loss or tragedy and can’t understand how someone who’s entire being is made up in the light of faith and love can allow such heartbreak and suffering to happen to His children. 

You do your best to soothe their heavy hearts. You tell them that God works in mysterious ways and that each and every person has their own trials and lessons in life that they must learn and overcome. 

“Everything happens for a reason,” You say. “The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. But He is always by our side, speaking to us. All we have to do is listen.”

Words are not as powerful as feelings or actions, but you’re always grateful whenever your words are able to help heal any of their woes, even if just a little bit. 

Billy, however… you are horrified to see that his faith is gone completely. 

He talks about how he came to New Mexico and all he’s seen on the way. His start in New York City and the promise of a better life in Kansas. The lies and tragedy they were met with there. The death of his father. 

“I think my Pa knew there was no one up there lookin’ out for us even back then,” Billy says, and it takes everything you have in you to stay silent at the horrific statement. “That’s why he just… gave up.”

For all that you disagree with, you can understand why Billy feels the way he does. He truly has had no one in his corner - devastating hardship after devastating hardship throughout the entirety of his life and he’s had to fight tooth and nail, carving a place out in the world for himself by force, just to get a bit of peace that should have been readily given to him.

“Tell me, Sister. When you’re by yourself in the world, young and alone and starvin’, not a penny to your name and no work for you in the entire county, what else are you supposed to do?”

The tears welling in your eyes match the ones threatening to spring from his. 

“Exactly what you did,” You whisper back.

A single tear escapes one red rimmed eye, running down the curve of his cheek. “Is that what your god does? Leave children to steal or starve and then let them be arrested and made into a criminal when they choose not to just roll over and die?”

The lump in your throat refuses to go down. “We can’t know what the Lord’s plan is for us. It’s a mystery meant for us to unravel,” Your words are true, but they feel bitter on your tongue. “No matter how hard it might be.”

Billy’s eyes soften at your words, thick lashes clumping together with unshed tears, and when he speaks again, his voice is full of emotion.

“You remind me of my Ma,” 

He’s told you about his Ma. A kindly, religious minded woman whose devotion to God and her ‘rotten, cheatin’, stealin’ ass husband’ was her downfall. 

“‘I won’t leave him’ she said.” Billy had huffed, hands squeezing into fists as they wrapped tightly around the blanket. “‘I said my vows before God and the Catholic church’. What am I supposed to say to that?”

You can see how it eats at him - still after all these years since his mother’s passing and the guilt of not being able to save her, to protect her from anything and everything trying to harm her, it gnaws away at his heart. You think she might have been his best friend. 

“Yeah, you remind me of my Ma,” He repeats, voice soft and low, and you wonder if this is the voice that he used to use when talking to her. “She was optimistic too. A dreamer, always tryin’ to see the best in people when all they do is show you their worst.” 

“She sounds like a lovely lady,” You say. It’s genuine - you think it would have been an honor to meet the woman that Billy called a mother had you ever gotten the chance. 

The woman who was strong for her family when it felt like the entire world was crumbling down around them. The woman who pushed for progress and courage when they uprooted their entire lives in hopes of finding something better elsewhere and held it together for the sake of her children when their father passed. The woman who sacrificed staying in an unfaithful and unhappy marriage for the sake of her kids and loyalty to God’s will. 

“The vows we make are meant to be for eternity, Billy,” You had told him. “They are not to be broken easily or without consequence. If they were, there would be no point in making them and they would lose their significance.”

Your own mother knew that too. Despite how much you wanted her to leave him when you were younger - run away just you, Mama, and Joe - she never did. 

“My father wasn’t a very nice man either,” You say, eventually. “Like your stepdad. He was cruel. He would hit her, and Joe…” The me remains unspoken, but understood anyway. 

Billy remains silent, but his eyes are on you, listening with full attention to whatever you’re about to tell him. The idea that maybe God has sent Billy into your life to help heal some unresolved part of you, too, isn’t lost on you. 

“I know that we are all God’s children,” You say. “And I know that there is good in all people. But sometimes… I think the Devil’s hold is much too strong on some. Because I can’t remember even one ounce of goodness in my father.”

“Is your mother still with him?”

“No. She’s dead.” 

The days go by with an unexpected ease that you're grateful for.

You talk, and talk, and talk - and honestly, that's about as much as you can do. Your brother has nothing. No forms of entertainment and no distractions that wouldn't be considered laborious and harmful for Billy's recovery.

You like to talk though. Like to get to know people and have other's get to know you in return. Each person is unique - an extension of God and an example of His love for us personified.

It's even better when the energetic connection is instant, two souls recognizing each other and relating to each other in a way that you think all of God's children should be able to. Talking with Billy is easy, and despite the differences in religious views, you find that conversation between the both of you flows like water. And when that water sometimes finds itself hitting the shore of land, you find that Sam has come through for you once again.

Sam, bless his soul, has had the forethought to pack a chess board and a pack of playing cards in his care package, and you find that they become quite handy when the rare silence between conversations becomes too stretched.

Despite the initial stress and your reasoning for being here, it's nice.

Five days into the stay at your brother’s place finds you relieved to see that Billy’s wound is still making progress with its healing. You were a little concerned that the threat of being caught and the additional stress on the stitches from the abrupt movements of being transferred to the cabin could have brought about an infection, but the area around the injury still looks clean. 

You make sure to send up a quick prayer of thanks for the Good Lord’s grace. 

While Billy’s wound is healing nicely, your back, on the other hand, is in significant pain. 

Joe’s place is built for one, so the single bed in the only bedroom is more than enough to house him when he’s home. For two, however - it’s a little problematic. 

Billy gets the bed, that’s a given. He’s injured, and people need to be comfortable with lots of rest so that they can heal properly. You’re no stranger to uncomfortable sleeping spaces anyway. You’ve spent more than your share of nights on the floor of dusty inns during your travels and, to be completely honest, it's not like the beds at the convent were much better. It’s moments like this where it reminds you of how many things humans take for granted in their day-to-day lives. Sometimes it takes losing something for someone to appreciate it. 

Despite the uncomfortableness, sleeping on the floor has never really bothered you much. It’s been a few years since you’ve had to do it though. Even on the round-the-clock shifts at the clinic there’s at least been a cot available to you, but here there’s only the hard wooden floor and the single blanket you’ve allowed yourself to claim. 

And, perhaps you aren’t as young as you used to be, because the shooting pain in your back as you carefully roll to your side has you gasping.

Billy must hear the noise because you can hear the slight ruffle of bedding as he shifts, his voice calling out a concerned, “Sister, you alright?”

“Fine,” You call back through gritted teeth. Every movement feels like torture as you brace your hands on the floor to help push you up. You can do it, you tell yourself. You can do it. God willing… “Just- ah! Just trying to– get up.”

The rustling of the bedding sounds more deliberate now and you’re shouting from your place on the floor before you can think about what you’re doing. “Don’t you dare get out of that bed, William Bonney! Or so help me,”

The rustling stops, and you steel yourself to try to push up and off the floor. It feels like a miracle when you’re on your feet. Your garments are wrinkled and slightly dusted, but that’s to be expected out here. It’s the bare space on the floor that gives you pause. How are you meant to sleep on the floor again tonight with the way you feel right now? The thought seems almost unbearable. Perhaps Billy will spare one of his extra blankets - the slight extra cushion could be all you need.

At least that’s what you’re telling yourself.

A few steps takes you into the bedroom and your suspicions are confirmed when you see Billy sitting up in the bed, blankets pooling down at his waist as his arms prop himself up, his right leg is just swung over the edge of the bed at the knee in a perfect indication of his intention of getting up. 

Ignoring the pain in your back, you walk forward, clicking your tongue in disapproval as you push him back down flat with a firm hand to his forehead. He goes back willingly, moving his leg back in place when you tap on his knee.

“You could have pulled your stitches trying to get up like that,” You reprimand. 

“‘So help you’ what?” He responds.

“What?”

“You said ‘or so help me’. So, ‘or so help me’ what?” Billy says with a small playful smirk on his face.

“God,” You respond with a smile of your own. “So help me God. So that maybe He can send me some holy restraints to tie you to this bed to keep you from ripping your stitches and worsening your injury that I worked so hard on healing.”

Billy’s smirk widens. “Careful now, Sister. Some people like that kinda thing,”

You can feel the heat flood your face from his implication, eyes widening as your mouth parts in shock. 

You don’t know how to respond - you’ve never been in this type of situation before. For men and all their faults, you’ve been lucky to find that most of them, even the criminals and frequent brothel visitors have mostly been respectful of your title. Inappropriate comments and jokes have rarely been said in your presence since becoming a nun, and on the rare occasion they have you’ve never been shocked since the offenders are always obvious the second they open their mouths. 

But somehow it strikes you speechless to hear the sexual meaning coming from Billy’s lips. 

“Oh, is that too much for the Angel’s ears?” He laughs. “M’sorry.”

You force a quiet laugh, working your lips into a small smile as you try to battle through the uncomfortableness. He’s just joking. He doesn’t mean anything by it. Men will be men for as sexually driven as they are, and some are just more outspoken about it than others. Billy’s been on his own since he was a young teen, running around with that band of outlaws who you’re sure are far worse than he is. You’ve had the displeasure of meeting Jesse Evans before. And you certainly weren’t shocked when the rude words fell from his mouth about how he imagined how good you would look without all that ‘modesty bullshit you have on’. 

Billy isn’t Jesse though, so you just lightly smack his shoulder with the back of your hand as you let out a half teasing but mostly serious, “You watch your language around me, sir. I’m a lady,”

“Yes, ma’am,” He grins. “Yes, you are.”

You hum out a small sound of disapproval as you bend forward slightly to try and adjust the blankets that have twisted around his waist during his premature attempt to stand, but you're stopped when the sharp pain consequence of sleeping on the floor shoots up your spine. Billy starts at your loud gasp, hand darting out to grab your arm as if he could catch you if you suddenly dropped to the ground. Your hands press against your back in agony and they stay there as you slowly limp to the chair next to the bed. 

Billy watches as you gingerly lower yourself into the seat. The pain doesn’t go away now that you’re sitting down, but at least you don’t have to move for a while. “What happened?” 

“Sleeping on the floor hasn’t been very kind to me,” You respond through gritted teeth. 

“You should sleep in the bed then,” 

“No,” You say, shaking your head, appalled at the thought of kicking Billy out of the bed while he’s still healing. “You’re injured. You get the bed.”

The eyebrow raise you get in response tells you that you misunderstood his meaning. “I think we can both share the bed,”

“No,” You say, again. “No, no. It’s not proper.”

“Sister y/n–”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with harder things than just sleeping on the floor. A little back pain isn’t going to keep me down,”

Billy looks like he doesn’t believe you, but he keeps quiet on the matter anyway.

He distracts you instead by keeping you talking. He asks about why you decided to join the convent and take your vows. You tell him about your brother and how he couldn’t bear to be around your drunk of a father anymore, and how you harbored such anger at him for what felt like an eternity but was only actually a year and a half because you felt betrayed by him. Deserted and left to fend for yourself by your own brother. How you walked around your house praying to never be seen, acting like a ghost in your own home in hopes of keeping away any avoidable conflict. How your mother did her best to shelter you from it all, and you can tell by the way Billy’s brows furrow and his lips pinch together that he wants to say something harsh in response, but he stays silent. You can only imagine what he would say.

“Shelterin’ you would’ve been takin’ you far away from him, not forcin’ you to stay in a dangerous place just because she thinks it's what God wants. If that’s what God really wants, then maybe he’s the evil one, hm?”

You’re thankful he doesn’t actually say it. You’re not sure if you would have the right words to try to defend otherwise.

“Turning to God was the best thing I’ve ever done,” You say instead. “In Him I’ve found peace like I’ve never known before. I found a family and a purpose in life. That’s more than I could ever ask for.”

“That should be the bare minimum,”

Turns out it doesn’t matter what he decided to say because you don’t really have the right words to defend against that statement either. 

“You deserve to have someone lookin’ out for you,” Billy says, and his stare is so earnest and intense that you can’t bare to look him in the eyes anymore. 

“I’m… I’m going to go make breakfast,” 

He watches you push yourself up from the chair, wincing as your back protests the movement, but doesn’t move to stop you. 

You use the time you’re cooking to gather yourself. Prayers of apology fall from your lips to God as you beg for forgiveness at being caught unable to hear His wisdom during your conversation with Billy. Billy spoke his truth, no matter how wrong it was, and his words made you falter - unable to uphold Him and His grace in the face of judgment. This is your mission, your test.

And you’re failing. 

Sister Catherine wouldn’t have hesitated. She would have known exactly how to respond to his disbelief. She has a level head on her shoulders, the words of God falling from her lips like water. Perhaps she would have been better suited to handle this task. 

No. That’s the work of the devil - the fear and self-doubt you feel. Meant to slow you down and keep you from fulfilling your cause and spiritual duties.

Steeling yourself, you pile spoonfuls of the now thickened oatmeal into two bowls, topping them with a generous drizzle of honey before picking them up and taking a deep breath. You try your best to ignore the pain still throbbing in your back as you head back to the bedroom, pausing just outside the door and letting the heat front the bowls sink into your hands as you talk yourself up. 

Have faith in His Holiness, y/n. He will guide you. 

When Billy’s eyes catch on you as you walk through the doorway, his face is soft and friendly - none of the overwhelming intensity or barely contained anger that was there before. 

“That smells great,” He says, taking the bowl from your outstretched hand. His bright blue eyes follow your movement as you sink slowly back into the chair next to the bed, resting your own bowl on your lap. 

He smiles, clearly trying to calm your unease that you’re sure is still evident on your face and takes a large bite of oatmeal. 

“Hmm,” He hums, closing his eyes briefly at the taste. “This is delicious. Best meal I’ve ever had. Cooked by an angel, I can tell.”

“Thank you,” You reply, and you can feel the involuntary pull of a smile on your lips at the praise.

He’s a good man, too. You can tell.

The floor isn’t any softer as night rolls around. 

You try to sleep on your stomach, one arm propped underneath your head and the blanket balled on top of it so you have something soft to rest your cheek on. The other arm twists down at your side, a position that probably doesn’t seem very pleasant but that’s been your go-to comfort position since you were a young girl. It helps alleviate the tightness in your back for a little bit, but the ache is still there - laying in wait until you fall asleep and your body automatically rolls into the more reasonable position for floor sleeping. 

You don’t sleep, or at least you don’t think you do. It doesn’t feel like you do. Your mini dozes just feel like blinks, those moments where you close your eyes, just for a second, before you’re opening them again in the next moment only to realize how much time has actually gone by. You’re not sure if it's minutes or hours, but more often than not you’re blinking only to find that you’re mid roll in adjusting positions and the pain in your back is too intense for your sleeping brain to handle. At one point, you manage to roll completely over before you wake up - the blink of closing your eyes while on your stomach, darkness encompassing the entirety of the main room, and then suddenly your eyes are opening again with the ceiling as your viewpoint, the beginnings of the sun shining in through the window, and the unbelievable agony ever present in your spine. 

You’re so preoccupied with the pain that you almost don’t notice Billy standing in the doorway of the bedroom. His eyes are set on your tensed frame, dark brows furrowed in concern as he takes a cautious step towards you. 

“Sister y/n,” He says, carefully. 

“W-what are you doing o-out of bed?” You ask through gritted teeth. Oh gosh, this hurts so much. You feel like you can’t move, like your entire body is stiff as a board and one wrong move will snap the wood across the grain where it’s the weakest and break it in half. You can’t even bear the thought of rolling over to try to get up.

Billy ignores your question, crouching down beside you with one knee pressing into the floor for stability. His hand caresses the wound on his side, and even through your pain you don’t miss the slight wince he gives even as his eyes rake over you with worry. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. The hand that was just pressed to his side comes to cup your cheek. 

You’re not sure why you’re noticing how large his hand is right now in this moment as it presses against your skin, his long fingers curling to press gently into the fabric of your veil just behind your ear. You should be chastising him, scolding him for getting out of the bed and possibly injuring himself further. He winced, you saw it. He’s in pain. But all you can focus on right now is the comfort his warm hand brings with your nerves this fried and body this agonized. 

“It hurts,” You whimper.

“I know, Angel. I know.” His voice is soft and soothing, the low tone caressing your eardrums. 

The sight of his eyes watering cuts through the pain for a moment, and you wonder if that’s really truly what you’re seeing or if maybe it’s your own tear filled eyes playing tricks on you. Your hand reaches up, intent on caressing his own cheek and swiping your thumb under his eye to see if it's actually wet, but he catches your hand in his and brings the back of your hand to his lips. 

“You’ve done so much for me already,” He murmurs, lips brushing against the back of your hand. “Let me help you now, okay?”

Billy’s arms fit themselves under your body, one arm creeping underneath your tensed back while the other loops beneath your knees. Your hand clutches desperately at his shirt, fisting the material in between your fingers, as he lifts you from the floor. Your agonized gasp mixes with his own grunt of pain as he stands up with you held securely in his arms and pressed against his chest. 

“Your stitches,” You try to say, but he just shushes you. 

“Shh. Don’t worry about me. M’fine,”

He carries you to the bed, carefully placing you down on the mattress. The softness of it under your back doesn’t do much to alleviate the pain, but the anxious part of you is hopeful that it will the longer you lay on it. But then Billy walks around the other side, the bed dipping down under his weight as he settles down on it, and you’re instantly filled with shame. 

You shouldn’t be in bed with a man. Ever. You gave up that possibility when you took your vows, promising that it's only His spirit that would ever get to be around an area as intimate and personal as your bed. 

“I can’t,” You say, trying in vain to push yourself up, but the sharp pain you receive for your efforts makes you freeze. “Ah! It’s not– not proper.”

“Y/n, please,” He says, hand coming down to press lightly on your shoulder to keep you down. “Just for today.”

You almost miss it - the absence of the title when he says your name. And that’s inappropriate too. Not only are you alone with a man, in the same bed together, but he’s dropped the earned title to show your life’s calling entirely. You want to reprimand him immediately. Jump out of the bed and wiggle your finger in his face just to make him understand how wrong this is. 

But his eyes are filled with worry, silently begging you to just lay there for a while, just until you feel better and the words die in your throat.

He’s a good man. He doesn’t mean any harm by it. It was just a mistake, the title lost among the honest worry you can see reflected in his eyes. 

“You can’t take care of me if you can’t even walk,”

Your eyes close, a resigned sigh escaping your lips as you reluctantly press deeper into the soft sheets. He’s right. You need to recover so you can continue to aid in his recovery. You can’t do your job if you're bedridden. 

“Just for today,” You settle.

Just for today.

That was your intention anyway. Just stay in the bed, enjoying the small pleasure of the soft mattress against your back, and wait for the pain to dissipate enough for you to be able to resume your nightly rests on the floor in the main room. You didn’t even want to stay in the bed all day. It was a hopeful thought, that you would feel better in just an hour's time, maybe two or three at the most, and then you would feel better enough to be able to get up and return to your duties as normal. But you realize now that the honest hope for that was just willful ignorance on your part. 

You work in a clinic and you’ve dealt with your fair share of back injury patients during your lifetime. You know it’s not something easily overcome or relieved in a matter of hours - sometimes even days or weeks. 

God can perform miracles and you see the blessings He puts in your path each and every day. This, unfortunately, is not one of His miracles. 

The hours blend together - one turning into two, and then two into four, until you can’t take the stillness anymore.

You force it a few times, pushing through the pain and slower than ever making it up and off the bed as you try to go about your day like normal. Being on the bed makes it so much easier to roll off than trying to push yourself up from the floor without the help of gravity. Your back protests as you roll off the edge, Billy echoing its protests with actual words instead of shocks of pain as he tries to urge you back down, but you grit your teeth and slap his hand away.

There’s a small amount of guilt creeping up from how hard you smack his hand, but it's still buried so deep under the agony and the overwhelming frustration of feeling useless that you can’t even stand to give it a second thought. 

Billy watches you as you slowly make your way around the room. It’s not too bad to walk as long as you don’t bend or twist your upper body at all, but it's all becoming much too obvious now how much one takes their movements for granted until they’re face to face with their sudden inability to make even the slightest normal movement. 

The empty bedpan sits on its own short stool in the corner of the room, next to the usual chamberpot. It’s been hours now since either of you have had to use them and even though you still feel fine enough to forego the chamberpot, which… thank the Lord because you’re honestly not sure how you’re meant to position yourself correctly in order to use the pot or even the outhouse for that matter in your current condition - you’re sure Billy is probably ready to use it. 

“Do you need the bedpan?” You ask him, already reaching for it. 

It's another moment of stupidity on your part when you go to reach for it and bend down with your back instead of using your knees. Another dagger of pain shoots up your spine and your hands fly around you to cradle the ache. 

Billy shoots up as the sharp gasp leaves your lips, the bed rustling and creaking underneath him as he tries to push himself up. Your head jerks at the sounds and your shout is echoing through the small room before you can even think about it. 

“Sit down!”

He freezes at your words, big blue eyes wide as he stares at you, the anger and frustration in your command no doubt audible in the way your yell scratches your own throat. 

“Sorry,” You say, softly. “Billy, I’m sorry. Just…” Your eyes shift to where he’s pressing his hand against his side, directly over the wound and the guilt from earlier creeps back full force. 

He’s already moved today. Already possibly hurt himself more by getting out of bed to check on you and then carrying your full weight to the bed. 

You didn’t even check it afterwards. 

“Just stay down,” You continue. “Don’t move.”

Reluctantly, he relaxes back on the bed, just sitting there and watching you when he should be flat down so as to not put extra strain on the wound. You want to tell him that - that he should be resting because he’s injured and injuries can’t heal if he’s just moving about however he pleases. You’ve said it before and he’s listened, but you have a feeling he wouldn’t hesitate to call out your hypocrisy this time. 

“You sit down too,”

His words are soft, the timbre of his voice soothing and gentle but the words themselves are as demanding as they can be. Your eyes flick back up to his and you can see the unspoken threat in them. 

If you keep pushing yourself, I will too.

“Billy, I can’t just sit around all day. I have things to do,”

“What things?”

“Things,” You press. “I have to– clean and make food. And care for you. That’s my job,”

“It’s clean, Sister,” He says, waving his arm around the mostly bare room. “There’s not much you can do. And we can wait for food, I’m not even hungry yet. What else are you tryin’ to do?”

Your eyes close and sigh, praying to God to give you patience because you know that your own stubbornness is as much a strength as it is a hindrance and you can quickly see that the same could be said for your young outlaw charge as well. 

“Do you need to use the bedpan?” You repeat. 

“No,” Billy says, and he sounds just as over the conversation as you feel. “M’fine.”

“Fine,”

He expects you to return to the bed, you can see in those eyes how he thinks it’s a battle he’s won. And perhaps he has, in a way. But you’re still in charge here and you’re not going to let him know that right away. 

You turn on your heel, exiting the bedroom as swiftly as you can bear and Billy’s shout of protest races from the bed and follows you out in the main room. 

“Sister y/n!”

“Hold your horses, Billy,” You call back, raising your hand up as if to wave him off. “I’m just grabbing something.”

Your bag is sitting next to your makeshift bed and you make sure to use your knees this time when you bend down to grab it. You can feel Billy’s gaze burning into your back as you rummage through it and even though there’s only so many supplies you were able to stuff into your bag before you left the clinic, you’re still relieved when you’re able to find what you’re looking for rather quickly.  

Billy eyes the knitting needles and balls of yarn cradled in your arms as you bring them back to the bed. They follow the needles and yarn as you drop them on the mattress and then flick back up to yours, waiting for you to say something.

“Well, if I can’t be useful on my feet, I’m going to at least be productive off them,” You tell him. You raise your eyebrow, daring him to object.

He doesn’t. Instead, he brushes the supplies out of your way and motions to the newly cleared space with an open palm. 

“Then I reckon you should get off those feet, Sister,” He smirks.

It feels almost like giving up as you settle back down on the bed. You know it’s not - you can only do what your body is allowing you to do. Pushing through the pain or discomfort is fine to a point, but only if there is truly a need for it and as much as you don’t want to admit it, Billy is right. There is no need for you to be up on your feet right now and continuing to give in to your stubbornness is doing more harm than good. The Lord has given your body the ability to give you physical clues as to what it needs. You thirst when you need water, hunger when you need food, and get tired when you need rest. It’s speaking to you now - telling you how the current sleeping environment you’ve put it in has not provided it with the rest and comfort it needs to recuperate from the day to day demands and now it's making you. 

Your body is a temple, and you have to respect it and care for its needs. 

But just sitting here still feels like failure. You’ve never been one to just sit around for so long and the past few days of doing just that has made your patience run a bit thin. You are a healer. You help people. Doing anything and everything you can for them in their moments of need and it's in those moments that you receive your strength. You didn’t expect to be running around from room to room here as often as you were while working in the clinic, but not having a choice in the matter is more difficult than you could have imagined. 

The Lord has designed you to be His helper. Your life’s mission is to help people. 

But now you’re finding it hard to even help yourself, and that alone feels like failure. 

You close your eyes and send up a brief prayer, apologizing for your pause in the task that He’s granted you by inadvertently hurting the body He’s blessed you with and asking Him to grant you the strength and patience needed to overcome this hurdle. 

When you open your eyes, Billy’s still staring at you.

“You seem like you got somethin’ weighin’ on your mind, Sister,” He says.

You shake your head, smiling kindly at him. He’s a sweet boy - kind and caring despite the fact that he’s been the victim of some of your frustration today. “Nothing you need burden yourself with, Billy,”

His eyes are earnest as he watches you, leaning in closer as he says, “Nothin’ you do could ever be a burden to me,”

“Oh, is that so?” You say, the corner of your lips tugging mischievously as you grab your knitting needles and a new ball of yarn. You grab the free end of the yarn, pulling the starting length enough to give you enough to work with before tossing the ball at Billy. His hands are quick to grab it despite being unprepared for the throw and another small smile creeps on his face as he holds the soft sphere in his hand. “Then you won’t mind holding that and making sure my yarn doesn’t knot as I work, right?”

“No, Ma’am. Not at all,”

It’s cozy, you have to admit - working in silence as you cast the yarn onto your needles. The yarn is soft as your fingers brush against the developing chunk of project, and Billy must think so too since you can see how his thumb keeps swiping across the ball kept in his hand. He’s a good helper, keeping the working end of the yarn held loosely between his pointer and middle finger, just enough to guide it and prevent any catching or knots. 

You’re making a blanket for the clinic. The rushed packing job almost saw that you had no form of productive entertainment on this trip, but thankfully Sister Ann had enough wits about her to suggest taking your knitting materials. Some of the blankets in the clinic are old and worn, some even well-loved enough to have holes in them. You won’t throw them away. That’s wasteful and you’ll continue to mend them until you can’t. But the clinic can be a sad enough place already, and if you can brighten someone’s day with a blanket that’s not ripped beyond belief and put back together again by the power of God and some well placed stitches, then you’d like to make that happen for them. 

Plus, winter will be coming soon. And things can get mighty cold around here. 

Billy is content to just watch you, eyes fixated on the movements of your hands and the way the yarn is twisted and eased into the blanket. At one point, you ask if Billy wants to knit too. You have a spare set of knitting needles in your bag and you figure that it might be funner for him to knit too instead of just watching you twist yarn over itself for hours on end. You could teach him if his Ma never did. Knitting is a valuable life skill. The ability to create new clothes or household goods from practically nothing is priceless. 

But he shakes his head with a polite ‘no, thank you”. 

“Why not?” You ask. “You don’t want to learn?”

“It’s not that,” He replies, still playing with the yarn ball in his hand. “I’d just rather watch you. It’s calming.”

Calming is an interesting way to describe watching someone knit. It’s calming for you - you enjoy it and it's a nice hobby along with being a practical skill to have under your belt. But watching someone knit? You don’t think you could do that for very long without trying to grab a pair of knitting needles for yourself. 

“My Ma used to knit,” He says after a while. “I used to watch her make us sweaters or scarves for the winter. I used to hold her yarn too. Just like this.” A small smile pulls at his mouth at the memory. “I would respin the yarn for her when the balls would come undone. It was calming, just sittin’ there with her, in her presence, watching her repeat the patterns over and over.”

His fingers slide across the ball a bit, feeling the texture under his fingertips before he pulls a little more yarn from the ball to give your working strand some more slack. 

“This feels like that,” He continues. “Here with you right now makes me feel like I did with her. At peace.”

Your chest clenches at his words and your hand closest to him drops one of the needles before reaching up and resting it on his shoulder. 

“I’m honored,” You tell him. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

His eyes flick down to where your hand is cradling his shoulder before they meet yours again, and you're shocked to see a sort of desperation in them with they lock on yours.

“I always pictured I would do it for my own wife one day,” He whispers. “Supportin’ her while she makes somethin’ beautiful for our kids to wear. Or somethin’ warm for them to snuggle up in.”

“You will,” You say. Your hand moves from his shoulder to cup his cheek before you move to grab the knitting needles again. “The Lord will bless you with someone wonderful, Billy. I know He will.”

You hear him hum next to you, but you keep your eyes forward and focused on your project. You know what that hum means. 

“Don’t think I need the Lord’s help much,” He says. “I think I can manage just fine on my own.”

The blanket quickly comes to life under your fingers, skillful movements manipulating the yarn into a solid and beautifully woven product that you think will look so homely laid out on the beds of the clinic. Sometimes things can get so boring, bland colors and a too sanitary palette can make an already dreary situation all the more woeful. The pretty blue of the blanket would make a nice contrast to all the white and gray. 

Billy watches as you work and keeps the yarn from getting tangled when the balls reach their end and loosen from their coiled form. You only stop a few times throughout the day - once to eat some quickly made oatmeal, once so you can check on Billy’s wound and replace the bandage, and a few times so you could relieve yourselves. By the time the yarn balls you’ve pulled from your bag have been knitted into the blanket, it’s dark out and you have only the small lamp by the bedside table to give you light. 

The blanket rests in your lap, knitting needles still in your hand as you look towards the bedroom door and out to where you can see your sleeping area still set up. 

“You’re sleeping on the bed,” He says, firmly, as if he can read your mind and see the thoughts you haven’t even fully formed yet. 

It’s for the best. You know it’s for the best. The Lord wouldn’t strike you down for doing what you have to do to let yourself heal, even if it means sharing a bed with a man. 

And still… “I shouldn’t,”

“Then I’ll sleep on the floor,” 

He doesn’t wait for you to respond, already sliding a leg over the side of the bed and you’re grabbing hold of his arm before you can think about what you’re doing. 

“No!” You shout, fingers digging hard into his bicep. “You’re injured! You need to stay in the bed.”

He pauses, eyes boring into yours. “You are too,”

“I know,” You say, releasing his arm. Your palm gently rubs over the area you grabbed, trying to soothe any hurt you might have caused when you grabbed him. “I know. I’ll stay.”

He relaxes at your words, lifting his leg back on the bed as he leans back against the pillow. 

“I’ll be respectful,” He whispers and the blue of his eyes shines brightly even in the dim glow of the lamp. “I swear.”

You follow his lead, carefully tossing the knitted blanket on the floor and laying back slowly, being mindful of your back as you rest your head on the balled up blanket you snagged from your sleeping spot the last time you got up to make dinner. 

“I know you will,” 

You haven’t known him for long, but you feel like if there is any man you can trust to be respectful in a situation like this - it’s Billy. 

You can see God in him, even if he can’t see Him within himself. 

But it still feels weird, feels wrong - sleeping next to another man. And you turn your head to the side, away from Billy, so he doesn’t see the silent tears that flow down your cheek and into the fabric where your face presses harder against the blanket.

You pray until you fall asleep. 

There’s a hand on you when you wake up in the middle of the night.

It’s still dark in the room, your groggy eyes opening to pitch black and even though you can’t see anything, you can feel that you’ve flipped over at some point during your sleep. 

It gives your back some relief, being on your stomach like this. And the hand gently rubbing up and down the length of your spine helps to bring even more relief. The hand is big, taking up a wide expanse along your back and the soothing back and forth motion of it helps to keep you in the blissful fog of sleep. 

You find that your back does feel a little better come the morning thanks to the Lord's healing touch.

Taglist: @queenofshinigamis

[anto-pops]

Secrets - Ominis Gaunt x Female! Reader

Summary: After slinking out of Hogwarts for five long, stressful hours in the dead of night, you returned to a pissed off Ominis who is beyond fed up with your blatant disregard for your well being. The last thing he wants to do is let you off easy, so he patches you up and elects to 'punish' you for your infuriating secrecy.

Alternatively summarized as really, really shameless Dominis smut.

Yes, this is the most gratuitous thing I've ever written. No, I will not be taking questions at this time.

Word Count: 9.5k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit sexual content, rough sex (seriously)

Full fic can be found here on Ao3 with much more informative tags

It was well after midnight by the time you returned to Hogwarts. You would have come back sooner if it had been up to you— seeing as you weren’t particularly keen on slinking through the school’s deserted corridors in the dark. But you were tired, bruised, and lacking a good amount of blood that had left your body through the deep slice in your leg, so naturally you moved slowly.

At least with the late hour, you would be able to avoid Ominis. There was no way you could deal with his particular brand of ire right now. 

You didn’t mean to keep these things from him, but he was a chronic worrier. Every time you left the castle walls for something– be it for potions ingredients, or to help out in a nearby village– Ominis would grouse about it. While he knew you could handle yourself in most situations, he was convinced that you continued putting yourself in danger simply because it was the only thing you were used to. From the moment you entered his world in your fifth-year, you had been fighting for your life and solving other people’s problems without so much as a spare thought for yourself.

He made it very clear to you that he wasn’t a fan of your heroism. “It’s not your job to fix everything,” he had told you one night after you missed dinner to take on an entire Poacher camp by yourself. 

You knew that. But that didn’t mean you wouldn’t at least try to help where you could. 

Which was precisely why you had agreed to travel to Marunweem in the first place. The town’s doctor had sent you an owl requesting your assistance after a caravan of medical supplies was raided by Ashwinders. The grimy bastards had holed up in a cave a mile outside of the village for the better part of a month and had been robbing its denizens left and right, leaving the townsfolk too terrified to leave their homes and run the risk of getting hounded. 

Finding the slippery fuckers had been easy enough. What you hadn’t counted on was the second group of them that returned to the camp half-way through dispatching the first bunch. Their arrival had caught you off guard, which was the only reason one of the Scouts succeeded in hitting you with a Diffindo charm when your back was turned. You had been effectively handicapped for the remainder of the fight, limping around to dodge more curses and charms alike, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle. In the end, you had made it out victorious, leaving a pile of Ashwinder bodies behind in your wake. 

Climbing the staircase to the Astronomy Wing was a trial in and of itself; your leg stung fiercely every time you lifted your knee to take another step, the torn skin pulling uncomfortably and throbbing with every minute movement you made. You were all too grateful to reach the top landing, the massive, oak entryway to the Room of Requirement revealing itself before you’d even reached the wall. A small mercy.

The heavy door swung shut behind you as you limped straight from the entrance over to your potion’s table. There was only one thing on your mind, and you already knew you had no vials of Wiggenweld left, so you started methodically gathering what you needed to brew a fresh batch. You lit the burner and added Horklump Juice to the cauldron first, letting that simmer over low heat while you riffled through a drawer to grab a rag. 

“Aguamenti,” you murmured under your breath, saturating the cloth with water before firmly pressing it against the jagged gash in your thigh. The fibers burned the raw skin underneath, but you grit your teeth through the pain, whimpering softly as you turned back to your Wiggenweld potion. Healing magic was always something that had eluded you– despite your best efforts– and as a result, you didn’t trust yourself to properly stitch your skin back together with a spell.

As you picked out a handful of Dittany to toss into the bubbling mixture, the telltale sound of clothing shuffling reached your ears. After the hellish night you’d just lived through, your instincts had you whirling around with your free hand hovering inches away from your side, ready to draw your wand from its holster in a heartbeat. 

It was Ominis. Shit.

He was sitting on the couch on the opposite side of the room, bathed in the silvery moonlight that streamed through the skylight overhead. Your tunnel vision upon entering the room had allowed you to overlook his presence entirely– but he’d also made no move to make himself known. His sharp, angular features were drawn into a tense expression, and his fingers tapped impatiently against his crossed legs, betraying just how pissed he actually was. 

Fuck. 

“Ominis, what are you doing just sitting there? You scared me, why didn’t you say something?” Your heart hammered against your sternum so hard, you were certain that he could hear it. 

“What am I doing?” Ominis’ voice was like a whip, cutting through the air as viscerally as the Diffindo charm that had sliced your leg. “How about you tell me where you’ve been for the last five hours, or why you’re bleeding out and trying to fix it with a potion instead of going to the Hospital Wing?”

There was a split second where you considered denying his claims, but you knew it was pointless. He had likely heard you mewling and smelled the blood the moment you walked through the doors— and besides, lying would only upset him further. “I had to deal with a few Ashwinders in Marunweem,” you confessed, wanting desperately to leave it at that so you could focus on dealing with your leg.  

Ominis finally stood from the couch, his imposing presence amplifying as he strode across the chamber with his wand clutched tight in his white knuckled grip. “Since when are ‘a few’ Ashwinders getting the jump on you? Don’t sugarcoat the truth, I’m in no mood for your tip-toeing.”

You sighed as the blond planted himself directly in front of you, the slender fingers of his free hand reaching for your shoulder, and once he found you, he followed your arm down to where you held the rag against your thigh. His brows slammed down at the grating confirmation that yes– you were hurt, and he tsked disapprovingly before nodding over your shoulder at the potion’s table. “Sit down, I’ll do it– and turn off the burner.” 

Once again, you found yourself hesitating, if only because your pride had never allowed you to easily accept assistance from other people. But the rigid set to Ominis’ shoulders had you complying relatively quickly, afraid that if you protested him helping, he would really let you have it. So you cranked the burner knob to the off position, then shuffled over to the other end of the table. 

A soft hiss slipped through your teeth as you shifted to hoist yourself onto the flat surface, the movement pulling at your wound painfully, and you instantly felt Ominis’ warm hands around your waist. He helped you hop up on the table, letting you get settled as he pried the rag away from your thigh. His ministrations were soft and thoughtful; a stark contrast to the unyielding, vexed expression on his face. 

Your trousers hung in tatters around your injured leg, fluttering listlessly around your calf, so Ominis tore the remaining fabric away and discarded it to the floor. His wand flared briefly as he summoned a collection of Wiggenweld potions beside you, handing one to you soundlessly. 

As you worked the cork out of the top, you muttered, “When did you brew these?” 

“I didn’t,” Ominis replied evenly, taking the damp cloth from your trembling fingers to re-saturate it with water. You jolted in place when he pressed it to your thigh, but the tender sweep of his thumb across your unmarred knee soothed you instantly. “They’re technically Sebastian’s. I’m sure he’ll be less than pleased to find them missing from his trunk, but he’ll understand.”

Humming your acknowledgment, you finally popped open the vial and knocked back its contents, relaxing into the table as the liquid warmed your insides and worked its magic. When Ominis pulled the rag away from your leg, you were pleased to find that the bleeding had subsided significantly, but the skin was torn too deep to fully stitch back together after one dose of Wiggenweld. 

The blond lifted his wand to cast a diagnostic spell, setting the blood-soaked cloth off to the side before a lyrical chant slipped from his lips. Vulnera Sanentur was far from an easy spell to cast– much less master– but Ominis did it without a second thought, never once lifting his head as he expertly worked to mend your skin. You knew that he had taken to studying healing magic after your sixth-year, but you hadn’t actually seen Ominis use any of what he’d learned until now. The feeling of your skin pulling together was strange, but not uncomfortable, and you watched wide-eyed as the gaping wound closed up and left only a faint, pink scar behind. 

“When did you become so proficient with healing spells?” You asked him as he stood straight, summoning a few Dittany leaves into the palm of his hand. He twisted them between his fingers and wafted the scent towards his face before holding them out to you. 

“Around the same time you and Sebastian started using yourselves as shields in Crossed Wands. Now hold these on top of the area for a bit, otherwise the scar will linger,” he instructed you matter-of-factly, and his stern tone made your shoulders sag. You truly hated it when he was upset with you. 

“I really am sorry, Ominis.” You muttered remorsefully as you accepted the leaves, and his brows pinched together at the sound of your dejected tone. “I didn’t mean to upset you with all of this–”

“I’m getting rather tired of sitting idly by while you throw yourself into danger. What is it going to take for you to realize that what you’re doing is incredibly careless? What happens when the next spell hits a little higher and kills you, hm? What would I do then?” His frustration rolled off of him in thick, potent waves that made your stomach churn with anxiety.

“Ominis please, I know you care about me, but there are things I’m obligated to do– especially as a wielder of this ancient magic. No one else can do what I can–” 

“I really don’t care about everyone else,” he practically growled the statement and closed the miniscule space between the two of you so that he could brace his arms on either side of your hips, caging you between his long, lithely muscled arms. “All I care about is you and your wellbeing, but you have this infuriating ability to do the exact opposite of what I ask. Why? Sometimes I get the feeling you see me as more of a chastising parent than your boyfriend.” 

Hearing that made you scowl, “That’s absurd, of course I don’t see you that way. I just hate to worry you with these things–”

“Well, I am worried. I’ve been worried. You used to be more careful about these excursions of yours, but now you’re beyond reckless. You used to listen to reason and now you’re too stubborn for your own good.” His eyes were like burning pools of moonlight, piercing through your very soul as he leaned forward to trail his hand up your arm and across your shoulder. “I have a growing distaste for your rebellious streak. Why must you insist on being so disobedient?” 

Something about the word disobedient had your retort shriveling up in your throat, and your mouth snapped shut with an audible clack of teeth while your eyes flickered between Ominis’. His expression was drawn tight, but there was something else there– something domineering about the way he spoke to you. You’d seen this side of Ominis before, but it had been a long time since you’d actually done anything that worked him into such a state. Uncertainty washed over you like a bucket of cold water, and you swallowed around a lump in your throat. 

Ominis’ hand on your shoulder continued to rise, the tips of his fingers ghosting over your clammy skin until they splayed outwards and he was holding you loosely by the neck. There was no helping your startled gasp at the brazen move, and you stared wide-eyed up at him as your nails dug into the surface of the table. Your silence was palpable, as was the shiver that coursed through you, and Ominis acknowledged both of those things with a taunting smirk. 

“What, nothing to say now? Has it sunk in? Have I finally gotten through that ironclad head of yours?” 

You honestly didn’t know what the hell was going on in your head. Things had shifted so suddenly that now instead of feeling remorseful for aggravating your boyfriend, you were keenly interested in seeing what treatment you’d won yourself by doing so. “I-I’m sorry, Ominis–” 

He tightened his hand briefly to angle your head to the side, pulling another gasp from your parted lips, and he hunched forward to nuzzle his face into the crook of your exposed neck. You could feel his lips smiling against your pulse, betraying exactly what he had in mind for you, and you whimpered pitifully under him. 

“I didn’t ask if you were sorry, I asked if I made myself clear; I don’t like you putting yourself in harm's way, but I especially loathe it when you try to keep things from me.” You felt the pinprick of his nails digging into the soft skin below your jaw– not overbearingly tight– but it made you acutely aware of the placement of every one of his fingers, and the sensation had your heart skipping beats one after another. 

“I know, I understand,” you whispered, your voice airy and fleeting. “I wasn’t going out of my way to keep secrets– I just came here to take care of my leg, I wasn’t expecting you to be waiting for me–”

His teeth nipped at the skin of your neck, pulling another gasp from your throat and cutting your rebuttal short  “Would you have told me about it if I hadn’t caught you slinking in here tonight?” 

“E-Eventually–” you started to say, and in a flash Ominis was pulling away from you to glare fixedly in your direction. His grip on your throat stayed gentle but firm as he angled your face back to his, and one of your own hands finally shot up from the surface of the table to wrap around his slender wrist. 

“No lying,” he hissed, nearing closer so that his lips were mere inches away from yours. “You and I both know you would sooner tangle with Devil’s Snare before telling me you’ve been galavanting through the Highlands taking on dark wizards by yourself.”

“I would have,” you bit back at him, the conviction in your tone making him draw pause. “Maybe I would have omitted a few details, but yes, I would have told you. I don’t make a habit of not telling you things.”

“And yet, here we are.” The ghost of his breath danced across your lips, your mind flooding with unrestrained fantasies and ideas that were made all the more potent at the feeling of his thumb brushing against the curve of your jaw. “Sometimes I feel like the only way to keep you out of trouble would be to restrain you and lock you away in your bedroom. At least then I could make sure you stay safe.” 

You hated arguing with Ominis. You despised making him doubt your sincerity. It made you anxious anytime you knew he was upset with you, in large part because he got angry with you so rarely. But right now, an offhand comment like that was doing more to frazzle you and fuel a slew of unholy thoughts that had no business existing at the same time he was scolding you. 

What the fuck was wrong with you? 

Ominis elected to release his hold on your throat at that moment, jarring you from your thoughts, and he dropped the appendage to your thigh. Your breathing hitched when he trailed his palm lightly over where your wound had been minutes earlier, and he shook his head disapprovingly at you. The scar was still evident under his touch– the Dittany leaves he’d given you still gripped loosely in your fist, unused. 

“How does your leg feel? Any other wounds I need to know about?” He asked you, almost somewhat… cunningly. 

The sudden change in topic wasn’t unusual, but it was the way he presented the question that made you pause before answering. You decided to humor him and testingly lifted your knee, pleased to find that doing so didn’t cause you burning pain any longer. “No, and it’s a lot better actually. Thank you.”

He seemed to contemplate his next words carefully, his wand-bearing hand sliding up your forearm to lightly grasp your elbow as the other skirted higher up your leg, stopping to toy with the frayed fabric of your torn trousers. “Don’t thank me yet. Come with me.”

In a flash, Ominis had tugged you off of the table, his grip on your arm like a vice as he began leading you further into the Room. “Ah– Merlin, Ominis, what are you doing?” You nearly tripped over your own feet, but the blond’s unrelenting hold on you kept you upright as he pulled you behind him down the narrow staircase that led to the larger portion of the vast chamber. 

“Such simple instructions and yet you fail to follow them,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “At this point, I’m convinced you’re doing it on purpose to get a rise out of me, so consider this your punishment.”

Ominis knew exactly where to steer you when he reached the bottom step– with or without his wand– and the nervousness you felt was greatly overshadowed by the ripe anticipation that blossomed in your gut. He threw his shoulder against the door to the bedroom to shove it open before hauling you through the entryway, immediately getting to work to show you exactly what sort of ‘punishment’ he had in mind. 

—

“Stop whining and use your words.” 

Ominis’ sharp voice cut off your guttural moan, and he removed his hand from your throbbing core once again, killing your building release for the nth time tonight. You couldn’t help it; you sobbed at the loss. The imposing blond man leaned forward, whispering his response along your jaw slowly and playfully nipping at the skin as he moved down. “The sooner you apologize, the sooner we can cease this incessant game.” 

You’d been here for some time already, sprawled out on your shared bed in the Room of Requirement with Ominis circling you like a hawk. Every so often he would elect to touch you again, giving you a modicum of reprieve from the burning tension between your legs, but not before pulling his fingers away right as you were on the cusp of your climax. The two of you had been going at it for close to an hour now, and it was suffice to say you were losing your fucking mind. 

Your wrists had been tied snug together and bound above your head, rendering your hands useless as your boyfriend toyed with you to his heart’s content. You were a flushed, panting mess underneath him, hopelessly writhing against the sheets in search of more of anything. The ache between your legs was tantamount to torture.

As you drew your knees together in a feeble attempt to create some friction for yourself, Ominis felt you fidgeting and sat up to stop you in your tracks. His long, elegant fingers gripped both of your legs and spread them apart, leaving you fully exposed to him as a throaty whine sounded from your lips. 

“Please, Ominis–” your raspy voice cracked on his name, drawing a dark chuckle from him that sent a thrill down your spine. 

“I don’t know why you’re begging when you know you should be apologizing,” he chidded you, tilting his head to the side to cast a taunting look in your direction. “I know what you want, but what about what I want?” 

“I-I already said I was sorry,” you gritted through your teeth, momentarily grateful that Ominis couldn’t see the piercing glare you fixed him with. How many times did he want you to say it? “What more do you want me to do?” 

He moved into your space so fast, it made you gasp and press harder into the mattress. His eyes were stormy and swimming with emotion as he growled, “I want you to mean it. Every word. Apologize for keeping secrets and for making me worry– then you can start begging me to come.”

Ominis brought his hands to your chest to drag his blunt nails lightly down your front, stopping the appendages over your pert nipples to pinch the sensitive buds, and your stuttered apology caught in your throat at the feeling. “Hah– I am sorry Ominis, I really am. I’m sorry I scared you, I’ll tell you everything from now on– n-no more secrets– ah–”

The wet warmth of Ominis’ mouth came over one of your nipples, followed by the sharp sting of his teeth clamping down, and it had you moaning and arching into him further. You heard his throaty laugh, blearily lifting your head in an attempt to get a better look at him, but he was already moving back to sit on his heels with his hands tracing burning circles on your legs.  

“Hm, that sounds better,” Ominis murmured down at you, trailing his fingers tentatively over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You had half a mind to shift your hips closer to him– desperate to finally have your release after so long– but you knew doing so would just set you back even further. The urge to please Ominis any way you could was bone deep, so you fought down the desire to move, remaining a twitching, keening mess atop the sheets. 

“Please,” you whined softly, tugging pathetically on the rope bindings around your wrists. “I want you so badly Ominis, gods– I want you to fuck me, make me cum for you. P-Please, Ominis, please.” 

He didn’t respond at first, his hands stilling against your legs as he swallowed around the lump in his throat. You sounded divine begging for him like this. It almost made him want to cave early and finally give you what you wanted… but that would be too easy, especially considering it was your sneaking around that had landed the two of you in this position in the first place. 

No, he intended on playing with you a little while longer before wrapping things up. 

“You know I like taking my time,” Ominis purred down at you, and there was no missing the teasing undertone to his voice. 

The tension in your gut seemed to worsen in that instant, and you honestly could have cried. 

Ominis’ hands left your thighs to brace on either side of you as he leaned forward, a predatory glint in his milky blue eyes. His head dropped into the hollow of your throat, flicking the tip of his clever tongue against your pulse before licking a broad stripe down the vulnerable column of your neck. You shuddered at the bold move, whimpering at the expression he bore when he pulled back to smooth down your hair affectionately. 

“So I will take my time fucking you, and you’d best believe I’ll have you screaming my name so loud you won’t be able to speak afterwards. I’ll bend you in half– fuck you so hard that we break the damn bed– and you know what?” 

It took you a second to realize he was asking you a question, but the most coherent response you could muster was a soft whine. It was enough. 

“When you’re shaking under me, fucked out and sensitive from finally getting to come…” Ominis smiled, licking his lips as he bent forward again to whisper devilishly in your ear, “I’ll keep fucking you, hard and fast until you’re brainless and drooling and all you can think about or say is my name.” 

You were positive you were already brainless. The filthy, wicked promises dripping from Ominis’ mouth left plenty to the imagination, and you were a damn good visualizer. With a low growl, he sank his teeth into the curve of your shoulder, biting and sucking an angry mark into your clammy skin. You moaned in earnest, all too pleased to finally be moving forward with things. You didn’t think you’d ever wanted to come so bad in your fucking life. 

When Ominis pulled away, you half expected him to start marking up the other side of your neck, but instead he backed off to shift around and swing one of his knees over your bare chest. He held himself precariously over you, refraining from smothering you with his body weight, and in doing so you were faced with Ominis’ straining, confined arousal mere inches from your lips. You huffed out a needy breath. 

“Be a good girl and take it out,” he instructed, a coy smirk stretching across his face.

You squinted up at him then, giving the rope around your wrists a pointed tug, and he felt the motion reverberate through your prone form. He only laughed at you, shifting slightly to rub his clothed erection against your lips teasingly. 

“Use your mouth if you can’t use your hands.” 

It took you a second, but when you finally understood, your mouth parted on a long, low moan as your hips wriggled excitedly. Taking a moment to collect yourself, you drew in a deep breath before zeroing in on the catch of your boyfriend’s trousers. You surged forward and dragged your tongue up the thick outline of his cock, tracing along his undoubtedly uncomfortable arousal until you were kissing your way up the fly to the button. 

Ominis just listened, half amused and half extremely turned on as you struggled to figure out your plan of attack. You nuzzled briefly against his groin before throwing caution to the wind and deciding to just go for it. Hooking your front teeth over the edge of the fabric above the button, you absolutely allowed them to scrape over Ominis’ light happy trail, relishing in the shiver it drew from him. You tugged the material down, and with a helpful push of your tongue, you managed to get the button through the catch. 

You didn’t bother to hide your excitement; a giddy noise weasled it’s way past your lips, and you grinned smugly to yourself. Ever the perceptive one, Ominis felt his waistband loosen and gently raked his fingers through your mused hair in silent praise. That was the extent of his congratulations, though, before he was tugging on the strands softly to urge you towards the significantly easier zipper. You caught the thin bit of metal between the tip of your canine and clenched your teeth, dipping your head to pull it down, and your victory was marked by the barely there sigh that snuck out of Ominis’ parted lips. 

The blond elected to take pity on you then, sitting up on his knees just enough so that he could shove his trousers and briefs down around his hips. His fingers moved slower when he got to the front of his waist, tilting his head to the side before carefully peeling the restrictive fabric away from his groin, and his cock sprung free and arched proudly against his taut stomach. Taking himself in his hands, Ominis shamelessly angled his cock towards you and slapped the leaking head against your cheek a few times, leaving a streak of pre-come across your face that you feebly tried to lick away, to no avail. 

You nestled fervently against his shaft, your enthusiasm palpable and more than enough to make Ominis’ head spin. He was positive he wasn’t meant to be feeling such warm fuzzies when he was supposed to be wrecking you as punishment. 

Then again, you’d been a little too interested in his idea of payback earlier, so nothing was really going according to plan when he thought long and hard about it.  

“Ominis,” you breathed, dragging his attention back to you restrained between his legs. Your soft lips brushed against the head of his cock then, your quick tongue flicking gently at the sensitive slit, and the sensation had him shivering as his breathing kicked up in anticipation. “Can I suck your cock?” 

“I thought I answered that question already,” Ominis murmured, nudging his hips forward so he could smear warm pre-come all along your flushed lips. Your tongue darted out to lick at the slick trail, staring up at him with such intensity that you were certain he could feel your eyes on him. “You want it?” You nodded, licking your lips again as you tried leaning up to run your tongue over the head, but Ominis chose that moment to pull back just out of your reach. The whine that fell from your mouth was like music to his ears, and Ominis felt you begin wiggling your hips impatiently. 

There it was. Ominis’ goal was to work you into a needy, frantic mess— he wanted you begging and moaning for him until he was sure he had shattered your composure entirely, and somehow he had a feeling that was what you wanted too. 

Ominis’ fingers spread through your unruly hair and tightened a fraction as he pulled your head towards him, using his free hand to angle his impressive length towards your mouth. “Open.” 

He could feel and hear your hot breaths against his achingly hard cock as you stuck your tongue out in invitation, and Ominis couldn’t help the sharp pang of lust that shot through him at the way you just… obeyed him. It was exactly what he’d wanted from the moment you walked into the Room tonight. 

Breathing a quiet laugh, he went ahead and slapped the slick head of his member against your tongue, hissing softly when you immediately swirled the muscle around the head to lap up the copious amounts of pre-come he was already dripping with. The lewd, wet sounds coming from you beneath him were enough to leave Ominis twitching between your lips against his better judgment, and he tipped his head back as he lost himself in the blissful strokes of your perfect tongue. 

“Ominis,” you breathed after a minute, your lips brushing lightly against his cock entirely purposefully. “Please fuck my mouth.”

Merlin.

He needed a fucking second to process that, his eyes widening up at the ceiling at the same time a predatory grin split your face. The shock was quickly buried, however, and Ominis regained some semblance of control when he tilted his head down at you and tightened his hold against your scalp. “Hm, I don’t know. Have you been good enough to get your mouth and your cunt fucked?” 

You squeezed your eyes shut, chills breaking out all over your skin as a shudder coursed through you. Ominis loved being able to feel your physical reactions to his words, and he smiled despite himself. He was willing to bet that if he checked, you would be unbearably wet between your legs, staining the sheets preemptively with pooling slick. 

“You don’t think so?” You asked him, voice low with arousal. 

“It’s debatable,” Ominis moved back again, easily dodging your attempts to take him back in your mouth with an annoying smirk. “You’ve been pulling at the ropes for a while now, I can hear the fibers rubbing together.” 

You flexed your fingers on cue, your brows furrowing as you shook your head. “I was only shifting.” 

“Oh? How am I to know if you’re telling the truth?” 

Ominis languidly stroked himself with a degree of confidence that made your mouth water. Your eyes flicked down to his cock, any ounce of shame evaporating from your body as you wet your lips and forced yourself to remain well behaved. “You’ll just have to trust me.” 

“That’s unscientific– and also highly unlikely given the circumstances. How about this; you know I’ll always inevitably get the truth out of you one way or another. I’ll fuck your mouth, but if you’re lying to me, that’s all you get. All night.” 

Your jaw dropped, utterly appalled by the threat, and your drawn out silence told Ominis that you had absolutely been fibbing– but he just flashed you a sly grin as he continued to lazily work his hand up and down his shaft. He let you mull his words over, noting your audible gulp before you were muttering under your breath, “Honest witches have nothing to hide.” 

“Alright then,” Ominis hummed in amusement, sitting forward on his knees once again. “Open up, sweetheart.” 

You did so all too eagerly– ecstatic when Ominis finally guided his cock into your mouth, the wet heat making him groan low in his throat, and the sound got louder when you moaned and closed your lips around him firmly. 

Fuck.

Ominis slid deeper into your mouth, over your wet tongue, then oh– into your throat, and you had more than enough experience to be able to relax and take his cock nearly to the base. His thighs shook on either side of you, his hands finding their way back to your hair to hold you in place, and you took the liberty of hollowing your cheeks around him and swallowing. 

“Bloody hell,” Ominis moaned, his eyes pinching shut at the blissful feeling as he rocked his hips back. He moved just enough for you to be able to breathe, but after nearly an hour of dealing with his erection pressed uncomfortably against his trousers, that was about the extent of his patience. 

He got to work setting a steady rhythm, sliding his cock in and out of your incredible mouth, your tongue, hollowed cheeks, and the tiny movements of your head enough to leave him gasping your name. Your eyes were glued to him– unable to help but watch as a bright flush started to creep up the neckline of Ominis’ shirt and spread over his angular cheeks. In the heat of the moment, the urge to run your hands up his torso came over you, but the rope around your wrists stopped you in your tracks, making you whine around your mouthful. Ominis sighed and sped up some, encouraged by your muffled noises and the unrelenting, insane ministrations of your tongue against the underside of his cock. 

Ominis grew braver and rolled his hips perfectly in time with the shallow bobbing of your head, the tip of his shaft sliding into your throat for just a moment, and your choked moan betrayed exactly how much you liked it. Your whines turned pleading as you quickly adjusted to the intrusion, half brainless with need as you worked to pleasure Ominis the best that you could. The hand he had curled around your disheveled strands of hair moved your head in sync with his hips, giving you a small bit of leeway to angle your neck otherwise if you so chose, but you planned to do no such thing. 

“F-Feels so good, darling,” Ominis grit through his teeth, letting his head fall forward as waves of rapture danced down his spine. You made a throaty sound in response, your sucking growing sloppier with Ominis’ rushed bucking, but that was the farthest thing from a problem in his mind. The messy, wet sounds from his cock slipping out of your mouth before you greedily swallowed him down again were fucking addictive. 

It was all too easy to let himself be overcome with the sheer euphoria that came with being encased in your mouth, but the incessant, growing fire in his gut was becoming too much to bear. He was getting dangerously close, and he hadn’t spent all that time with his fingers buried in your cunt to ignore it entirely now. So as much as it pained him to, he shook the desire to come from his mind and tugged your head back. You pulled off of his cock with a shaky breath, thick strands of saliva and precome dangling between your lips and the swollen head. 

He hardly waited before he was shuffling down your body to give himself the space to start undressing, beginning with the top buttons of his shirt– and if you spent a little too long watching his deft fingers skirt down the row of clasps, he certainly didn’t need to know about it. The shirt fell open, revealing his smooth, pale chest, and he shrugged it off his toned shoulders without looking away from your spot on the bed. It never failed to make your stomach flip– how he always managed to zero in on your presence no matter where you were. 

With some impressive side stepping, Ominis shed his trousers and briefs together, kicking the offensive attire away from the edge of the bed so he could crawl back to you undeterred. He felt his way up your body, goosebumps breaking out over your skin in the wake of his fingers, and when he found your lips, he was leaning down to crush his mouth against yours in a heated kiss. He swallowed your mewls and gasps easily while he slid one hand up your raised arms to the rope around your wrists, running his fingers along the edge of the restraints in silent question.

“Leave it for now,” you whispered against his plush lips, and he smirked. “I like this.” 

Your voice was still rough from swallowing his cock, and the blond couldn’t help but notice— a spark of arousal shooting through him as he nodded and kissed you again. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, breathing hot against one another as your hearts raced in time and pulled you both away from the desperate precipice you’d been riding. 

“You’re shaking, love.” Ominis observed, feeling the small tremors reverberate through your body against his own. His hand trailed back down your arms while the other stayed propped under him, giving him better leverage to lean over you and press a chaste kiss to your temple. “I think you’ve more than made up for everything by now, what about you? Want me to take care of you? Will you be good for me?”

“Yes,” you rasped out, sounding ten different kinds of seductive without even knowing it. Ominis swallowed thickly, tensing when he felt you writhe in place against the mattress, your hips ever so gently brushing against his throbbing cock. “Please Ominis, I’ll be good– I promise– I’ll do whatever you want–” 

He silenced you with a suffocating kiss, fucking his tongue into your mouth and rendering your brain a useless pile of mush as he splayed his fingers around the curve of your jaw. It left you entirely at his mercy as he practically stole your breath from your lungs, licking and biting at your lips until they were swollen and throbbing, and your nails dug fitfully into your palms in response to the mounting pressure between your legs. 

“You sound so pretty when you beg, love. So eager to please,” he whispered against your mouth in-between kisses. “So I’ll fuck you, but you can’t come until I say so. Understood?” 

There was a good chance you were about to combust. 

You didn’t think you were going to last long with Ominis’ cock inside of you, but if telling him that ran the risk of not getting fucked, you would rather say nothing. Still, your displeasure was voiced in the form of a pained groan, and your frustrated sigh against your boyfriend’s lips dutifully conveyed your feelings on the matter to him. 

“Don’t complain. Here I thought you were going to be good for me,” Ominis mused sarcastically, obviously teasing you with the promise of being filled up. “I never did find out… were you behaving earlier?” 

Dammit. You couldn’t stop the whine that ripped from your throat as you tried to duck your head out of Ominis’ unrelenting grip, to no avail. His hold on your jaw stayed firm, forcing your eyes to remain glued to him while he unabashedly rolled his cock against the curve of your hip– as though to remind you of his earlier promise. 

“You weren’t, were you.” It wasn’t a question. You licked your lips, honestly considering your options when Ominis angled your head to the side to nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck. “Don’t you dare lie. If you tell me the truth, I won’t be mean to you.”

Your eyes slid shut, minutely shifting your hips towards the tantalizing feeling of Ominis’ cock pressed against your hip, before you shook your head and choked out a meek, “No.”

“Hm, of course not,” he murmured playfully, biting at the shell of your ear, then your neck, and he moaned softly when you tilted your head further to the side to offer more of yourself to him. “But I already knew that. Better late than never, I suppose.” 

In a flash, Ominis had released your face and was sitting back on his heels, gathering your knees together so he could pin them to the side and give himself better access to your ass. Before you could question him, he brought his free hand down and landed a good, echoing slap against the sensitive skin of your rear, leaving you arching helplessly off of the sheets with a wanton moan. With your wrists still bound, all you could do was flail your legs in Ominis’ hold, but his broad hand kept them pressed against the sheets– forcing you to bear the sting for a moment before he was soothing the spot with his warm palm. 

“O-Ominis–” 

You were cut off as he spanked you again, a shrill cry ripping from your lips as your spine rounded in your feeble attempts to escape, but Ominis held you in place despite your writhing. “Is that enough of a warning? Do you promise to be good?” 

“Y-Yes, yes, Ominis, please–” 

The pressure on your knees let up as Ominis shifted you back into your original position, only this time he nestled himself between your trembling legs with the heavy head of his cock dragging deliciously over your incredibly slick entrance. He slipped his hand under the crook of one of your knees, bending it back to give himself more room to rock his hips as he said, “I hope so.” 

“Please, don’t tease me anymore, Ominis– I can’t take it,” you gasped out your pleas, cracking your bleary eyes open to gaze up at the striking man towering over you. Those luminescent, unseeing eyes of his were seemingly alight behind the messy strands of blond hair that fell forward in his face, and the positively immoral expression he bore had you repeating his name like a broken mantra that filled him with renewed vigor. 

Ominis stifled a moan, biting the inside of his cheek as he finally pressed into you, and he let his eyes roll back at the feeling while you groaned with unrestrained contentment. You were fucking beside yourself, your hands twisting fitfully in your restraints as you let out a long, stuttered string of words that didn’t properly form, and by the time Ominis was fully sheathed inside of you, your patience had run out. 

“Merlin, Ominis,” your head flew back against the pillows, pathetically rocking your hips back in search of more, because his shallow grinding wasn’t going to begin to cut it. You craved this– you needed to get fucked through the bed, needed for Ominis to rail you like the world was ending– you needed more. “Ominis!” 

“F-Fuck, sweetheart,” He wheezed out, hugging your leg to his torso as he panted heavily from how unbelievably tight you were, and how incredible you felt. Part of him wanted to be gentle with you– to roll his hips smoothly and evenly to build you up slowly and perfectly– but Ominis knew what you wanted. Even if he didn’t, you took it upon yourself to educate him with your next breath.

“Ominis, fuck me, please,” you were practically sobbing, rutting down onto his cock with what little movement you could muster on your back. “Come on, fuck me– please just fuck me already– please, please, ah–”

Getting you this worked up took no small amount of effort. Ominis took immense pride in the mess he’d made of you for a brief moment, sighing when you squeezed tighter around his cock and moaned his name again. “You sound so fucking good, love,” he hummed, giving you a slow little grind that left you overcome with urgency. “I told you I’d take care of you.” 

Before you even had time to moan in response, Ominis was readjusting his grip on your leg, shifting the one still against the sheets further to the side so he had more room at his disposal when he pulled back and fucking rammed his cock back into you.

He didn’t waste any time in keeping up this way, either. 

You were utterly delirious. 

Ominis fucked you so hard and so fast, it seemed like it shouldn’t even be possible. The slap of his hips against your ass reverberated loudly off the stone walls of the bedroom, but it was overshadowed completely by how loud you were screaming. 

It was everything you’d wanted. Probably more so, because Ominis was fucking railing into you with some insane stamina, breathing loud moans of his own, gasping your name, and you couldn’t even find the brain power to beg for more. Every time he pulled back and left you nearly empty, he was fucking you open again with the force of his cock, jolting you up the bed until you were bracing your bound hands against the headboard and utilizing your newfound leverage to push back onto him. 

Ominis allowed you to rut against him for a few thrusts– enough to appreciate the lush sound of your ass bouncing against his hips– until the urge to take you over completely filled him. He moaned then, the noise low and savage, and he moved so that he was leaning over you with the knee he’d been holding flung haphazardly over his shoulder. Pressing into you further, you gave a whimpered protest at having your efforts cut short, but Ominis ignored you entirely in favor of spreading you wider to accommodate his larger frame. 

With you pinned beneath him in complete possession, Ominis wasted little time in fucking you harder, faster– his long thrusts switching to deep, hammering ruts that drove the head of his cock clean past your sweet spot so intensely that it damn near knocked you out. 

If you could use words at all, you would have tried to warn Ominis that you were about to come. There was no fucking way you couldn’t. You were so full of his cock, your throat raw from screaming, and you were being held down and fucked like you were merely a toy with your hands grasping pointlessly at air. 

You felt Ominis before you heard him when he loomed over you to groan hot in your ear, his cock reaching deeper and hitting you even better than before, and when you were right there– tense and tight and wailing Ominis’ name over and over– he fucking growled his warning against your temple, and you broke down and sobbed. 

“Don’t you dare come.”

Your noisy, brainless pleas fell on deaf ears as your boyfriend continued owning you, never letting up as he kept you pinned to the bed and chased his own pleasure. You were close– so fucking close that you didn’t know what to do with yourself besides cry and hope to whatever Gods existed that Ominis would have mercy on you. 

Pulling at the ropes around your wrists frantically, your garbled cries blurred together in a barely intelligible string of ‘please’s at the same time it started to hurt from how long you’d been on the cusp of your climax. Tears streaked down your face, frustration and desperation and too much pleasure twining together with the pain of holding back, and before you could figure out what was happening, Ominis was looping one of his arms under your back. He tugged you so you were arched towards him, your front held flush to his chest as he bent you precariously upwards, all the while maintaining his unrelenting pace. 

“Come on, darling, come for me,” Ominis urged you, his hot breath ghosting over your sweat-slick skin and making you shiver with delight for a multitude of reasons. He planted his feet firmly against the bed, bucking his hips up with a precision that left you boneless in his arms while he slammed his cock right into that mind-numbing spot so perfectly, and then you couldn’t hold back anymore. 

Your orgasm was earth-shattering. 

The world seemed to flash a brilliant white around you, making you oblivious to everything in existence but the guttural moans slipping from Ominis above you, and for a good, long minute, your mind simply halted. You were vaguely aware of yourself gasping as he stilled his movements, having the good grace to remain idly in place while his gentle hands willed you to relax. 

“I have never heard you scream that loud,” Ominis groaned, sounding equal parts wonderstruck and pained– which probably had everything to do with his still-hard cock twitching inside of you. He gingerly lowered your prone body down onto the mattress, relishing in the weak, fucked out whimper the action pulled from you. “Are you alright?” 

You tried saying yes, but it came out sounding more like a croak than a reassurance. Ominis chuckled darkly, sliding his hands down to your hips as though he were about to pull out, but your shaky legs wrapping around his slender waist stopped him in his tracks, and the movement had him choking on your name as he pressed down to hold you still. 

“You want me to keep going?” Ominis asked, his voice incredibly tight and strained from the way your pulsing walls squeezed around his cock again. 

This time, you managed to get your tongue to obey your brain and formulate a full sentence. “Y-Yeah, please Ominis. I want you to fill me up, please keep going.”

Ominis’ head fell forward, his fingers digging into the skin of your waist for a modicum of restraint. The tone of your voice was seriously doing him in, as was the way you seemed to suck him in deeper with your legs. “You have to tell me if it’s too much.” 

You made a tiny sound of agreement before melting back into the mattress as Ominis’ hand slid up your thigh, lingering for a moment on the tiny scar you’d failed to heal earlier. He said nothing of it though, instead leaning down to kiss you hungrily before taking advantage of your legs coiled around his back, rocking into your tight heat once again. 

The stark contrast between his earlier pace and his current one was almost dizzying. Ominis’ possessive snarls gave way to worshiping moans, and the hands that had previously pinned you down now reverently trailed up your torso to lovingly run his fingers up your chest, then your neck, and finally over your tear stained cheeks. It felt incredible; his cock moved so perfectly inside of you while his hands pressed and soothed whatever part of your body they could make contact with, but his restraint was still there. He had to be going insane– you’d been at this for an eternity, and he still hadn’t gotten to come yet. If his strained moans and trembling hips were any indication, he was holding back big time. 

“Ominis,” you murmured, forcing him into you harder with your legs, and the drawn out groan he let slip reflected his need all too well. “Come on, Ominis, please. I can take it.” 

“Fuck–” he blurted, his tempo faltering for a second before he braced one of his hands beside your head to once again pull nearly all the way out. When he snapped his hips forward again, he filled you with a hard thrust and ground into you so fiercely, the friction against your clit made your spine round off the bed with a keening moan. 

His gentle, easy pace fell away– his breath fanning warmly against your cheek as he kept up his firm, grinding thrusts. By some impossible miracle, you felt a familiar heat building in the pit of your stomach, your pleasure being drawn out of you for the second time all too easily. You were still overwhelmingly sensitive from earlier, and it allowed you to feel everything Ominis gave you even more vehemently. 

Ominis elected to drop his hand from your cheek down to your clit, rubbing tight, titillating circles over the nub as he continued spreading you open on his cock, and your scratchy voice filled the room as you threw your head back to wail for him. It felt too good– too perfect. You didn’t even know such euphoria existed, much less that your boyfriend could bestow it upon you so thoroughly. 

“Gods, I can feel you– are you close again?” Ominis buried his face in your neck to whine against your sweaty skin, barely maintaining his rhythm any longer– just desperate to feel you around him. “I’m so close– fuck.” 

“Yes, yes,” you croaked, wanting so badly to wrap your arms around his shoulders and curl around him like a second skin, but the rope around your wrists denied you, and your arms ached from the position they’d been left in for so long. “Me too– please Ominis, please– me too.” You threw your head back with a gasping cry as Ominis bucked harder into you, his hands grabbing and pulling at you as your combined sounds spiked higher and louder the closer you got. 

When Ominis finally came, he sank his teeth into the marred expanse of your shoulder, biting down to stifle the string of curses that threatened to spill from his mouth. The sharp pain intermingled with the burning pleasure between your legs, and that was as much as you could bear before you were falling over the edge with him. 

Ominis’ body tensed, his hips grinding into you as you twitched and gasped under him, and the rich feeling of him emptying deep inside brought you to new heights you’d never experienced before. He spent an ample amount of time just whimpering against your pulse, wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you tight to him. His lips parted on a soft moan when you held him back best you could using your legs, and he brought one hand out from under you to follow your shaky arms up to the headboard. You felt a telling tug on the rope around your wrists, and in a heartbeat Ominis had expertly undone the knot that tied you to the bedframe. 

As much as you wanted to wrap your arms around him, the appendages were practically useless. You felt pins and needles dancing down your shoulders, which didn’t do anything to help with your hyper-sensitivity. But all in all, you’d never felt so satisfied in your fucking life, and you turned your head to press your lips against Ominis’ messy head of hair graciously. 

He shuddered at the feeling, lifting his head to gaze affectionately in the direction of your soft breathing. “Are you alright, love?” 

You hummed contentedly and nodded, flinching ever so slightly when you felt Ominis slide out of your overstimulated walls. He bent down to claim your lips in a heated kiss, chasing away any lingering tension in your body as he ran his hands down your sides dotingly. 

“You were so good for me, darling… so well behaved. You sounded so pretty falling apart on my cock,” he whispered his praises against your mouth, making you whimper, and you felt his expression twist into a smug smirk against your parted lips. “No more secrets, though. The next time you want me to fuck you senseless, you need only ask.” 

You agreed embarrassingly fast, vowing to forever voice every last whisper that crossed your mind from this moment forth. Especially if it meant garnering treatment like this more often. What other sinful secrets was Ominis hiding from you? 

As sore and achy as you were, a very big, very shameless part of you seriously couldn’t wait to find out. 

[readychilledwine]

Okay, nightshirt headcanon here, the other person also found it hilarious but didn’t write anything about it. Go for it!

Oversized Nightshirt Headcanons

Warning-implied smut and implied SA

A/N - The number of boobs and butts I went through to find this gif was ridiculous.

Rhys-

It started as a bet when the bat boys were young that Rhys wouldn't be able to pull a female without his fine tailored clothing

Cassian and Azriel were wrong. Very, very wrong. They forgot about you. Rhysand didn't, though. He never could or would.

In fact, that night is when the bond snapped between you two, and after several rounds, you ended up in his baggy night shirt the next morning making coffee. Rhys stood there smirking as Azriel and Cassian secretly slid him their losses.

Since then, Rhys seduces you one of two ways: completely naked or with a sneak peak of his slutty little legs under the baggy shirt

You love the shirt. Just because you know you get to cuddle into it to soak up his scent the next day.

He keeps the baggy thing around for the memory of it alone. It was the night the bond snapped, the night you became his beyond just casual hook ups.

But don't tell anyone else, he sleeps it in before high lord meetings because he considers it his lucky shirt. He'll deny it if you say so, though. He can't be caught dead in it.

Cassian-

Cassian gives zero fucks about what he wears at home, so you see his baggy night shirt frequently.

He's also shameless when it comes to you.

He will lean against a wall, arm stretched up above him, and just smirk at you. He knows the shirt isn't covering ANYTHING.

You won't say no to him, regardless of what he's wearing, but you always know if that baggy shirt comes out, it won't be a serious night.

Don't get me wrong, the orgasms come left and right, but there's so much laughter involved during the sex that you can't help but smile the whole time.

Cassian makes the baggy shirt work for you. It's the confidence and the male, not his clothing.

Azriel-

You gave it to Azriel to stop you from being all over him at night. Those grey sweatpants? Too sexy.

The male thought he could sleep naked instead of grey sweatpants? Absolutely not. One way ticket to pound town.

You thought the baggy sleep shirt would stop you two since it made you think of a little old fae in their care homes. You paired it with a stocking cap just to be really ridiculous.

Azriel took it as a challenge, though.

It turns out it didn't prevent you from having a thing for his arms, and those short sleeves became a big tease, only letting you see the veins in his forearms but not his biceps.

It also didn't stop him from coming up behind you, whispering in your ear what he'd do to you tonight.

In short, the baggy sleep shirt does nothing to stop you from riding Az.

It is hilarious to watch him throw it on for bat boy sleep over nights

Lucien-

Listen, you two couldn't take it seriously the first night he tried to wear a baggy sleep shirt.

He and Tamlin had bought them thinking they'd be super comfortable.

They were right, but you laughed so hard when your husband came into the bedroom.

You were so used to seeing him in fine threads and tight clothing that you were laughing from shock.

From that point, Lucien only wore his fine pajama pants and no shirt. Just the way you liked him.

That is, until after Ianthe. That shirt became his comfort as you two began sleeping in a different room.

He used it as a shield, hiding his new shame and insecurity

It still stays folded in one of the drawers of your shared dresser, coming out when he needs comfort or to feel safe.

There's no laughing anymore when he wears it, just gently praise and snuggles

Eris -

Yeah, he doesn't wear it. Ever.

His mother gave it to him when he complained about how cold the forest house was where the two of them slept.

Beron, as a punishment, ensures the chambers his mother had towards the top of the house, and Eris's chambers were not protected from Autumn's cruel cold nights.

Momma Vanserra, in all of her kindness, thought she was giving her oldest son a wonderful gift.

Eris gagged when he showed it to you. "Imagine me in this, little fox. Who would ever wear this?"

The answer was his father. It was the first time you witnessed Eris burn something without warning, and the only time he used his magic without telling you.

You two much prefer him sleeping in his little silky boxers anyway. Easier access.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage

[merbear25]

hello dear can I request promp 14 with Law? fem! reader and nsfw, thank you 😘

Hello, lovely! I realized the other day that I hadn't written for Law in quite awhile, so I was excited to get back into it! I hope you enjoy what I came up with 💜💜

Caught in the act

CW: NSFW!! MDNI!! fem!reader, male masturbation, oral sex (male receiving), vaginal penetration, cream pie, light choking and hairpulling

Ever since joining the Heart Pirates, Law took a strong liking to you. Sure, you'd proven yourself long before officially joining them, but once apart of the crew, it seemed like you truly allowed your personality to shine―and those rays were something he could lose track of time basking in.

The more he came to know you, the more he yearned from you. Upon coming to this realization, he pulled back from interacting with you in hopes of smothering the growing flames of desire the best he could. However, they'd grown out of control and were rapidly engulfing him.

Having suppressed his feelings for you for far too long, he was now at his breaking point. The way you swayed your hips, the face you made when you concentrated, the sound of your laugh: each of these swarmed his thoughts, leaving him to relish in his deepest and most private fantasies. Each night presented itself as a testiment to his self-control, of which was an uphill battle.

That night was full of bonding: exchanging stories, laughs, and some secrets. The nonchalant nature of trading secrets struck fear in Law―the fear of being asked and potentially blurting out the one that was in the forefront of his mind. Excusing himself, he made a beeline for his bedroom.

His urges were growing stronger, making them damn near impossible to neglect anymore. Sitting in his room, he contemplated whether or not to surrender to desire. Thinking of how disrespectful it would be to touch himself as you exchanged stories with the others just down the hall made him sick. He felt as if he'd been reduced to a pathetic pervert with no sense of restraint. God, but your charm was far too alluring.

The growing lust under his pants was becoming more and more difficult to ignore. Unzipping his jeans and letting his arousal spring free, he hesitated. Thinking how he'd be able to get the job done more quickly, he reached for a photo of you he kept in the drawer of his bedside table. You looked stunning that day.

Peering down at the picture, he began rutting in his open palm. The delicate smile on your face, the beauty held in your poise, such memories flooded his mind as he inched closer and closer to the edge.

Lost in his fantasies, he didn't hear you calling for him. It was only when he heard a gasp that he noticed your presence.

Being quick to cover himself, he immediately made up an excuse, "It's not what it looks like!"

"Is that my picture?" You shrieked, unable to contain how appalled you were.

"Stop shouting!" He hushed, his face burning with the intensity that could melt the surroundings.

Your utter shock aside, you couldn't help but notice how well-endowed he was. Confliction of the current situation had you torn: should you let this moment damper your relationship with him or take this as an opportunity to explore other avenues?

You could never deny the attraction you had towards Law, making the latter an easy option to pursue. Stepping forward, you held a neediness in your eyes.

His posture became rigid as you came closer. In spite of the obvious sultry look you were giving him, his nerves were persistent.

"I could help you with that, you know."

Glancing down at his still stiffened member, he gripped the side of the bed as he nodded for you to assist him.

Easing yourself between his legs, you treated him to the wonderland which was your mouth. Licking the underside of his eagerness, you trailed your tongue up to the tip before taking as much of him as you could.

The swirling of your tongue and sucking motion made your mouth all too tempting. Placing his hand on the top of your head, he timidly grabbed your hair, giving you unspoken approval.

"Wait."

Looking up at him, your first thought was that he wasn't enjoying it.

"I want to feel all of you," he admitted, gently leading you up from the floor and guiding you on your back. Watching you get into position, he tugged his clothes off before moving ontop of you.

Planting a firm kiss on your lips, the both of you could feel each fiber of your beings searing as you dived deeper into the pools of euphoria.

Promptly removing your bottoms and discarding them along with your panties across the room, he aligned his reddened tip with your weeping slit. The hunger in his eyes were mirrored in yours.

Easing into you, finally being able to indulge in your warmth made something in him snap. Gripping your hips, he swiftly went into deep and forceful thrusts. Not wanting to hold back any longer, the sweet mewls of pleasure passing over your lovely lips were just the encouragement he needed.

Seeing you unravel on him, he couldn't resist wrapping his fingers around your delicate throat. The intensity in your moans grew more desperate, making him tighten his grip a bit.

You were making quite the spectacle of yourself with each surge of pleasure coursing through you. As you moved in complete harmony, he blanketed your body with his, pressing your twitching form firmly against him.

With the increasing force of his cock bullying its way deeper inside, your fingers tangled themselves in his dark locks and tugged at them. Earning yourself a deep growl from Law, he only dialed up the urgency: keeping a firm grip around your throat and bucking more harshly.

Being assaulted by the animalistic need for each other, you were overcome with shockwaves signaling throughout your bodies, which led to an electrifying peak to that night's events. The rush of him filling you with each drop of white lust sent you into a frenzy, causing your body to cling to him as you rode out this madness.

Panting from the lingering waves pulsing through you, he peered down at your spent form. His once lustful gaze now replaced by affection and tenderness.

Cupping the side of your face, he stroked your cheek before placing a loving peck on your forehead. You both wished you could stay like this forever, wrapped in each other's embrace.

[cemeteryspider]

In the Wake of Destruction: Part 2

Gambit! Remy LeBeau x Mutant! Fem! Reader

Summary: After Remy's death, you stop being able to process your grief, so you create a time where you don't have to.

*Think WandaVision*

Trigger Warnings: Pregnancy, Death and Grief, Psychological Manipulation, and Emotional Distress

Word Count: 2438

A smile etched itself across your face. The door to your home opened and shut with a single click, and into the kitchen walked your dashing husband, Remy LeBeau. As if you had planned it, you took the sauté pan of shrimp off the stove and onto the table, and plucked the pot from its burner onto the table as well. The spoon levitated out of the drawer and started plating the food. Grits, then shrimp, then some lovely sauce from the pan over top of it.

Remy plucked his plate from the air and sat down at the head of the table. "This looks delicious, Chere!"

You walked up to him at his end of the table and placed a kiss on his forehead. "That's very sweet, darling. Now enjoy."

He spoke to you as you smoothed your dress and apron, sitting down at the other end of the table. "My mama is rollin' in her grave, I've never tasted grits so cheesy and tasty." He continued to pile food into his mouth, and you couldn't help but blush.

"Oh, Remy, what has gotten into you? Being so kind to me!"

He just smiled as he looked up at you. "Not a damn thing, just was wonderin' if you were up for some fun tonight, Chere," The smirk that crossed his face could only mean one thing.

"I think I would be, darling," You smiled right back at him.

~~~

The colors of the world began to bleed onto your face as your belly grew. The sounds of the world were sharper, and smiles brighter. You were ecstatic to be alive. The short dress with bell sleeves made you want to dance the day away, but you had business to attend to. The ladies of the neighborhood gathered around the pool, dipping their toes in the water, drinking beverages, and gossiping about the other women in the neighborhood.

It was one of the most exciting moments of your life when a blonde-bombshell invited you to the pool today. Though pregnant, you were excited to talk to women your own age. When you approached the gate, the blonde came up to you excitedly introducing you to her friends. Their names flew by you so quickly you barely caught any of them, but it didn't seem to matter because soon they were all gushing over your belly and the baby inside.

"Do you think it's a boy or a girl?"

"Do you have names picked out yet?"

"Is the daddy cute?"

"Yeah, tell us all about him."

So you dove into their questions head first. You talked about how you would be delighted about a boy or a girl, that you had some ideas floating around in your head for names but no one would know until the baby arrived, yes your husband was cute, and you went on and on about how wonderful he was.

Pretty soon pool time ended, and all the ladies went home. Well, until the blonde invited herself over to your house, which, to be honest, you didn't mind in the slightest.

"So did you enjoy the pool?" She asked, her voice sweet as honey.

"Yes, I really did, it was nice to get out of the house and just chat with someone," You smiled as you dusted the shelves filled with pictures of you and Remy. Some of them on your wedding day, your honeymoon, a first date picture, even some of prom. You sighed as you tenderly and gently rid them of their dust.

"Why are you pretending?" The question pulled you out of your thoughts.

Your brows furrowed as you put the picture down. "I don't know what you mean by that?"

She looked at you somehow changing outfits in the blink of an eye. "I'm pretty sure you do."

The woman's outfit wasn't the billowing sundress it was a moment ago. It was a stark white jumpsuit with fur lining the collar and wrists. Your eyes narrowed and you considered this for a moment.

"Come on, Y/n, you can't keep this up forever. Just let these innocent people go. They can't fight back."

Your feet left the ground and you stared back at the woman you finally recognized as Emma Frost. "I said. I Don't. Know. What. You're. Talking. About."

With each yell, you got closer and finally with your last breath, you launched her through the wall and out of your house, out of your town, and out of your life.

Calmly you touched the ground again and Remy walked through the door, "Chere! What was that? What's going on?"

He started walking toward you but before you could answer you put your hand on your stomach and groaned, the floor becoming wet beneath you, "Remy... the baby... it's coming."

Now he was rushing over to you and helped you walk over to a chair. Then he rushed to the home phone to call your neighbor, who was a doctor.

Then in an hour, there were two beautiful babies in yours and his arms. "What are we going to name them, Chere?"

You gave him a tired smile. "I think we should name this little guy Charles Logan Lebeau and our lovely little girl Jean Marie Lebeau. After some of our most loyal and dearest friends and family."

"That's perfect. They're perfect."

~~~

"Kids come on! Let's go to the store!" You yelled from the bottom of the stairs up to Charles and Jean. They tore down the steps and rushed to put their shoes on.

"Can we go to the bookstore, mama?" Jean sweetly asked.

"No! Let's go to the arcade!" Charles yelled at his sister.

"No! Mama loves the bookstore! She and I love the bookstore!" She argued.

"I'll do all my chores when we get home!"

The two children kept yelling at you and for a moment you could hear the X-Men yelling at you from beyond the veil of your little town.

"STOP IT!" You turned to your shocked kids. "I'm so sorry. The yelling was a little too much today. How about we do both, my darlings?"

Quickly the frowns dropped from their faces, and they nodded and ran to the car. "I'll be right out! Let me just tell your father where we're going!"

"Okay, Mama!" Your kids yelled from their seats and shut the door after that.

"Sweetie! Oh there you are," you said walking into the backyard where he was weeding the flowerbeds. "The kids and I are going out. We're going to the bookstore, then the arcade, and lastly the grocery store. We'll be back okay?"

He stood up from his knees and smiled. "Sounds good, Chere. I will see you soon."

He placed a short sweet kiss on your lips then you were off to satisfy the children.

When he heard the car drive down the road and across town he threw the gloves off his hands and brushed the dirt off his pants, and he started walking. He walked toward the edge of the town, the one his wife said they had no reason to leave, no matter how much he begged and pleaded to leave and visit their friends.

The more he walked the less he saw. Sparse houses with still people standing in front of them. Some smiling, some crying, and some with fearful looks in their eyes. Yet none of them moved.

His brows scrunched and he walked toward one of them. Still, they didn't move until he was close enough to hear the voice behind the smile, literally.

"Please help us." The voice kept repeating behind the everlasting smile.

Remy took a step back and started running toward the edge which started to lose the vibrant color he never noticed in the town until the absence of it was apparent. He walked toward the edge and touched the wall that separates him from the outside world. He pushed against it but he felt it strain against him.

As he did he could see some people behind the wall. Charles, the professor sitting in a wheelchair. Kurt Wagner, who upon seeing him, teleported himself inside the walls of Remy's confinement.

Tentatively Kurt started to walk up to him, "Remy? Is that you?"

The crease in Remy's brow furrowed. "Course it is furball, what's goin' on?"

"I do not know how to tell you, but you are not real. You cannot leave because you are an illusion created by our dear Y/n."

Remy's heart started to quicken. "How can that be? No, we have children together. We got married. This is our life..."

"When did you get married to her? Where was the honeymoon? Und why can't you remember?" With each question a pain worsened behind Remy's eyes.

"I-I don't... I don't understand. But I'm here right now," Remy looked down at his hands which seemed to be non-existent. He turned over his hands, but they weren't there. He started to walk back towards the center of town, and slowly they reappeared.

"I am sorry to have to break this to you, mein Freund. However, it is odd to speak to you after the eulogy at your funeral," Kurt's mouth formed an O shape, "I misspeak... I-I meant-"

"I died. This is how she is mourning me," Remy's head landed in his hands. "I'm dead, and she imagined the life we always wanted in reality."

"Es tut mir leid, mein Freund. But we have to stop her, and help free these people. You see they are trapped in her illusion against their will. Please will you help, the last person we sent in was how do you say, seen out of the establishment," He vaguely remembered the day the twins were born... created and the large hole in the wall of the living room that was closed the next day.

"I will help you. Give me until the end of the day," Remy stared at the ground and Kurt put a hand on his shoulder.

"Danke und goodbye, mein Freund," Kurt teleports out into the world beyond the town and beyond your reach.

He started walking back to the house where he spent the best days of his life with you. Well, he supposes all of the memories made by him.

~~~

A cold wave of dread washed over you as you left the grocery store and saw your husband waiting by the car.

"Daddy!" Your children yelled and ran to him. He opened his arms and gave them each a tight hug.

"Why don't you go to the playground across the street. Your mom and I need to... talk," They gave him and you a quick wave and ran to the playground equipment.

"Hey, darling, I didn't expect to see you here," You could feel your palms start to sweat, "Could you help me put the groceries in the car?"

"Y/n... what have you done?" He whispered in your ear as he pulled you close.

A breathy chuckle left your throat. "I don't know-"

"Chere, please don't lie to me. You need to set things right. These people are innocent."

Your brows furrowed and you looked into his eyes. "They're fine. They're living their lives in this new reality. I'm sure of it."

You could feel your grip loosening, and someone was walking up to you seemingly in a trance, "Please let us go. We see your nightmares when we sleep and when we are awake. Please, I have a family and they haven't moved in days."

You started to collapse to the ground, but Remy held you until you were both on the ground. You didn't notice the tears running down your face until he started wiping them away.

"You have to let me go," He said, looking into your eyes.

"Okay, but just one more night, and then I'll let you go," He seemed to consider this for a moment and looked across the street to the kids that were playing together, but alone.

"Let's go home, Chere," He helped you up off the ground and the people around you started to walk off into the distance. People you had never seen but felt in the bounds of the town. You gathered your family in the car and went home just as the sun was setting over your personal paradise.

You led the kids upstairs and to their bedroom where you helped them into their pajamas and tucked them into bed. You went to give Charles a kiss. "Mom, I'm too old for that."

You gave him a sad smile and brushed a few strands of hair from his forehead. "Okay, sweetie."

You went over to the other bed and leaned over to give Jean a kiss.

"What's happening, Mama?" She asked you with a pinch of fear in her tone.

"Charlie... Jeanie... I love you so much. No matter how far apart we are or will be I love you more than the world itself," You swept a stray tear from your face and got up.

"Wait, Mama. I think I need a kiss," Charles said quietly, and you understood that he was saying it partially for himself but mostly for your sake.

You walked over and gave him a kiss on his forehead. "Goodnight, kids. Sweet dreams."

As you approached the door you turned back to see two empty twin-sized beds. You continued to cry as you made your way to your and Remy's room. He was waiting on the bed looking out the window into the slowly disappearing town around you.

"Hey," You said, sitting down and looking at him.

"Chere, I love you, and I'm sorry we never got a true goodbye while I was alive," He pulled you into his side and you rested your head on his shoulder.

"I love you too. For our last night together, will you just hold me."

He looked at you and laid down. "Anything you want, Chere."

You laid down with him and he pulled you into his arms. You could feel his hands calmly stroke your hair and tuck you close. A shine blurred your vision and you closed your eyes allowing yourself to take in all of your soulmate. The smell of his favorite cologne, the feel of his skin under your fingertips, and his soft breathing. You felt your breathing slow and without your permission, your body fell asleep.

~~~

When you woke up in the morning you were laying on a familiar gurney in the basement of the mansion with the professor sitting in his chair next to the bed.

"Ah, you're awake. We have much to discuss."

[scorpioriesling]

Random Tropes HC (pt. 2)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Lucien / Eris x reader

Warnings: slight sexual suggestions

Summary: Random tropes, and how each would play out, depending on the character... and you, of course.

SR’s Note: I saw a filter on Tik Tok where you can rank book tropes, and this idea came to mind. I am using my top 6 (not in order) for the purpose of these posts -- enjoy! Part 1

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Lucien - "Only One Bed"

You were definitely crushing on Lucien -- who wouldn't?

You were close with him and Tamlin, working at the Spring Manor until you became more than an employee, but a friend.

Well, a friend to Lucien anyway.

Tamlin took note of how well you were able to spy, and turned you into his own personal Spymaster.

You didn't mind too much -- after a while, Tamlin warmed up to you. He also appreciated how you made Feyre feel more comfortable when she first arrived in the Spring Court.

As fate would have it, you and Feyre were a lot alike.

It didn't take long to see what was going on. She was planning to run.

Over the last few months, Tamlin grew more enraged, more angry at the world. You couldn't stay, you knew you had to get out.

And Cauldron be damned, Lucien was coming with you.

He wasn't happy about it at first, especially when the two Night Court warriors winnowed Feyre away and left the two of you to walk the rest of the way to the Night Court.

"Do you think he will change?" Lucien asks you, the cold wind ruffling his hair. You shiver against the wind.

"No," you say after a long moment. Lucien pulls you close to him, heat radiating from his body against the chill.

"I don't know if we could ever go back." He says. You sigh and bury closer to him, trying to keep in step with his long legs.

"I don't think he'd allow us back." You say. Tears prick the back of your eyes, but you blink to keep them at bay. Lucien changes the conversation, happier topic chosen this time. He is talking about all the delicious food the Night Court must have when you finally spot a motel in the distance.

"Our salvation!" Lucien gasps. He grabs you by the arm, pulling you with him as he breaks into a jog. You're panting trying to keep up, but you finally make it to the building.

"We're just about sold out." The stocky female behind the desk murmurs. Lucien sighs and runs a hand through his hair. You're standing behind him, and you place a delicate hand on his shoulder. He turns to you, gaze softening.

"Ma'am, we'll take whatever you have left." You say. She rummages through her drawers, presenting a single golden key on a long corded string.

"Floor 2. Last door on the right." She huffs. You anxiously take it from her, looping the string around your neck. The key dangles like a pendant on a necklace as you take Lucien's hand in yours and lead him upstairs.

Some salvation this is.

There's only one bed.

A blessing in disguise.

"Cauldron..." he sighs, slinging his bag to the floor. "I'll just, take the floor." He says, moving into the room. You furrow your brow.

"Lucien, do you think I've never had a sleepover before? We can share." You say. You rifle through your pack for extra clothes, and with a wave of his hand, the candles and fireplace are alight with warmth.

"Well... only if you're okay with that." He says. You nod, realizing then that you have no sleepwear. Lucien seems to realize the same thing as his hands come up empty.

"You can shower first, if you were wanting to." You offer kindly. The firelight is painting his features beautifully, and you force yourself to look away. But Gods, was it hard.

"Thanks!" With that, he was heading for the bathroom. You sighed, flopping down on the bed. You hadn't expected this level of comfort from a motel bed, but the soft silky blankets, the plush pillows...

You sighed a breath of contentment, fingers toying with the gold key laced around your neck.

You stripped down to your undergarments, as your clothes from the day were filthy. Folding them into a neat pile beside the bed, you slipped under the sheets, goosebumps erupting over your body as the blankets had not yet warmed.

Lucien finally came out of the bathroom, his eyes raking over your bare shoulders not concealed by the covers. He choked down a cough, and you kept your eyes closed as he slid into the bed next to you.

His bare arm brushed yours, and your eyes flew open. You readjusted to lay on your side, and so did he at the contact. However, now you were face to face.

"Are you... cold?" He asked. His sweet gaze held yours as his fingers timidly grazed your shoulder. Fresh goosebumps appeared, and you shivered.

"Yes." He frowned.

"Comere." His hand gripped your waist, fingers over your hip bone as he pulled you flush against him. You pretended not to notice the growing buldge pressing against you as his hand traced small patterns over your back.

"I can give you some of my body heat, if this is okay?" He asks, voice low and raspy. Maybe it was the way his lips were inches from yours, the small candelight illuminating his perfectly sculpted face...

Or maybe you had finally decided to be honest.

"It's more than okay." You said. Heat returned to your cheeks, and a small smile danced on his lips as his gaze flicked between your eyes and mouth.

He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered, trailing down your neck to the small key still looped around it. He toyed with it for a moment, before his lust-filled amber eyes met yours once more.

"I can give you more, if that would be okay too." He whispered. You shook again, this time the excited, anxious, energy rolling from you.

"It's more than okay."

Eris - "Who Did This To You?"

Reading was one of Eris' favorite pass times.

In fact, it was one thing he had in common with you.

The only thing, he swore.

One of many things, actually.

In fact, Eris was doing just that when he heard a commotion outside. Usually, it was his father. He'd learned not to get involved, but this time...

This was different.

His heartstrings tugged as he strained his ears, trying to listen beyond his windows for any indication of what was happening.

"Please... please..."

He snapped his novel shut, flying to his feet and racing outside. He wasn't sure what had come over him -- but he knew. He could feel it. You were here, and you needed him.

He'd thought over and over the last few years how you'd cry. How he would and could make you do it. Thought about killing you himself, once. Using his fire on you in ways he'd done only once before. You were acting like a lap dog, sitting with the Inner Circle at one of their meetings. Rhysand didn't let you talk, of course. You didn't even challenge him. You always let him walk all over you.

Maybe that's what pissed him off so badly.

You were packed full of good ideas, talents, advice; but you bowed to Rhysand, and that was that. You never spoke up for yourself.

You were worth so much more than that. You could offer so much more than you were allowed.

He tore through the hedge maze, snapping branches, feet thundering around every corner. His breathing was heavy, eyes searching in the night to find you.

"Please, Eris... someone..."

He followed your pained whimpering until he found you in the middle of the maze. You were slumped against the large water fountain, breathing unevenly as blood stained your neck, dried flakes throughout your usually vibrant tendrils. Your hands braced over your abdomen, tears creating tracks down your dirtied face.

"Oh my Gods..." He rushed to you, and you looked at him in desperation. His heart broke in two, seeing you crumpled and hurt in front of him.

His sadness turned very quickly, to anger. He felt... violent.

He ran his hands over your face, seeing blood pouring from your lip, and he reached up to move some hair from your forehead -- a huge gash the cause for the ever growing pool you sat in. Well, one of the causes. He was fuming, hands trembling as he tried to stay gentle with you, but absolute rage filled his every vein at how this could have happened to you.

Who could've let this happen to you.

"Eris, I..." you coughed, more crimson drops landing on the stone pathway below. "I... I didn't mean to... this is the first place I thought of..." another loud sob wretched from you, and Eris cupped your cheek. His whiskey eyes were dulled to a deep bourbon, his jaw clenched.

"Come with me."

He scooped you up, carrying you as carefully as he could back to his wing of the Forest House. You let out small yelps, the searing pain in your stomach too much to handle.

"Please, stay with me Y/N," he pleaded, looking down at you sorrowfully. He felt as though he was carrying a small, injured deer -- that is what you were. A gentle, wise, doe. His gentle doe.

He finally made it inside, sitting you on the sofa in front of the fireplace as he ran to the washroom and returned quickly. He presented a small wet cloth, taking your chin in his fingers and beginning to wipe away the red stains over your delicate skin. He tried so hard to stay gentle with you, trying to replicate the softness you'd always offerred others.

But, that's one thing you didn't have in common. He wasn't soft, or sweet like you. He tried to steady his breathing, gazing into your round, watery eyes instead. It only caused him more pain, seeing you like that. His head dropped, and he raked a hand through his hair.

"Put this in here," he grabbed a clean cloth, folding it and raising it to your mouth. You opened, usually defiant towards your enemy, but, really... you'd do anything he asked. He placed it between your teeth, and his hands covered your bloody ones, still clutching your stomach.

"Y/N... you have to move your hands." He says. Your eyes screw shut as you groan, removing your hands shakily. He breathes a sharp gasp, shaking his head.

"Hold onto me." He says. You look to him in confusion, and he places your stained fingers on his shoulders. One of his hands lingers on your for a moment, and he pressed the inside of your wrist to his lips. He looks back to you, eyes already asking for forgiveness.

"I'll be honest, I've thought about hurting you before as you've hurt me," he says, voice deep with ... something. Something you couldn't place. You could barely focus as your mind started to fog, vision clouding with black spots. "...but never like this."

He sighs one last time, a hand coming into view, fingers ablaze with fire. You sit up, or try to anyway -- a sob racks your chest, muffled by the cloth, and Eris holds you down, hand splayed over your sternum.

"Hold onto me." He says again. His hand meets your bubbling would, fire searing the skin as a scream tears through your already dry, cracked throat, only quieted by the cloth you’re biting down on. Your eyes blow wide, and you squirm under his hold. He looks at you with regret, pulling back for a moment only to press heat onto your would again.

Your hands rip and claw at the collar of his shirt, red already smeared over most of it. He huffs an apologetic sigh, continuing to carterize your open would.

Over. Over. Over again.

You lean back, knowing the familiar weightless feeling. You were going to black out. His once-white collar slips from your fingers, and your eyes meet his one last time before you slink into darkness.

When you come to, you're wrapped cozily in silken sheets, a pair of fleece pants covering your legs. Soft sunlight streams in through... a window. You blink, widening your eyes and looking around. The mahogony sheets were an unusual replacement to your lilac ones, and the four poster wooden bed was a change as well. Your eyes caught on a bookshelf, one with many titles like yours, at least. One book sat on the window seat, basked in sunlight. It was a title you'd already read.

You were in Eris' room.

You lean to sit up, but cry out in pain and lay back down, head flopping against the plush pillows under your head. Your hands instinctively reach toward your stomach, tugging at the hem of the tank top you bore. A bandage was wrapped around your midsection, concealing any injury. Your mind went to last night, what you'd endured, winnowing to the Autumn Court, the burning...

In moments, Eris is passing through the doorway, concern threading his brows together as he looks you up and down.

"Is everything alright?" He steps to the bed, sitting on the edge of it. He pulls the covers up, tucking them around you in comfort. You shake your head, silver lining your eyes as they meet his.

"I... they took me last night." You manage to get out. Eris readjusts to face you, a hand stroking through your hair. He bites on his lower lip, eyes searching yours.

"Who. Who took you Y/N." He says. It sounds like more of a demand than a question.

You shake your head, a tear slipping free as you remember being kidnapped from your bed, and tossed onto the mountainside. The feeling of snow under your knees, rocks in your palms only the beginning of the pain you'd endure before somehow winnowing away.

"It was... they wanted me to partake in the..." you stifle another cry. Eris brushes his thumb against your cheek.

"The fucking Blood Rite." He bites out. Anger radiates off of him, the small fire in the fireplace near the window growing with each passing second.

Again, he asked, eyes boring into yours. "Y/N, who did this to you?"

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