#hm.... wonder if i should make a tag for that in case i drop more art of this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lazysimp · 3 years

Text

may we get some more moments of bull bakugo and cow y/n plz? 🤲

A/N: Sure anon, I hate to say it but I like this AU more than should. These are the features I imagined Bakugou/reader has.

Warnings/tags: cow boy, animal hybrid fic, oral sex, anal sex, male reader, 18+ MDNI

wc: 1.3k

How Bull Bakugou reacts to you being taken away

In the weeks following Bakugou first claiming the two of you had never been separated longer than a few minutes. He was obsessed, always keeping you within arms reach until today.

After a long night of fun, the two of you curled up under his favorite tree enjoying the breeze on a hot day. This is how most of your days were spent. In the distance, you could hear the sound of the metal machines coming closer but you had nothing to worry about, the humans only ever dropped off food or new friends. But today their plan seemed to change.

The black metal machine stopped a little distance away and two humans stepped out, one was holding some strange stick and the other a large cloth bag.

You looked down to your sleeping boyfriend and wondered if you should wake him, maybe he would know what to do, but before you could try to do anything a sharp prick jabbed into your thigh.

You look down to see a small shiny tube sticking out of your thigh with a bright feather on its top. Before you could warn Bakugou, one of the tubes stuck his thigh, shocking him awake, but it was too late. Whatever they did to you already had you falling into darkness, listening to the bellow of rage as Bakugou realized too late what was happening.

Your groggy eyes opened a few hours later, you take a quick survey of your surroundings and realize they must have taken you back to the main barn. Being a hybrid you don’t get many interactions with humans, both species usually choosing to leave the other in peace.

The door to your pin opened and a farmer with green hair opened the door, you smile with relief. He had been one of the humans you used to see when you lived in the barn.

“Sorry to disturb your rest little one,” he mumbled, opening up a small case. “You are due for a couple of shots and a quick checkup just to make sure you are healthy.”

You nod, relieved. Checkups, when you lived near the main barn, were common. You hoped they told Bakugou what was going on.

The kind farmer’s hands expertly delivered your shots and took a few vitals before leading you back to the metal machine. You waved bye as the farmhand drove back to the pasture, back to Bakugou.

But the scene you return to was nothing you were expecting. The fence surrounding the grass field was all but in ruins. The strong wood posts having been ripped from the ground. The metal feeding pin that held hay was lying in pieces around the field. You look around trying to see if a storm had come through only to see the cause of all the damage.

Bakugou was rushing towards the truck, fury etched on his face as he prepared to ram it. The farmhand quickly opened the door keeping you inside and gently pushes you out before rushing away.

You don’t even have time to look up before he is on top of you, rubbing his hands over your skin. You try to get out a few words, to reassure him you were fine, but he was not listening. His frantic eyes inspected every inch of your skin, making sure the humans had not done something to you.

Once his eyes slowed to meet you you give him a soft smile, trying to show him that you were ok, but he needed more. His heart was racing, since he had woken up with you, not by his side he had been on a rampage. Anything that had been in his path was now rubble. Despite now having you safe in his arms, adrenaline was still pumping through him.

Not waiting another minute his hand clamps around your neck, gently pushing your back to the ground.

You spread open your knees, already knowing what he had planned. His mouth was on you in seconds, taking your cock deep into his mouth. You let out a small whine, already overwhelmed. Bakugou had made it his life's mission to find exactly what made you tick. He spent hours teasing your sweet body, watching silently as you wither around, taking mental notes at what moves made you crazy.

If you thought he was good before, he was a god now. Sucking your cock into his mouth with the exact pressure he knew would drive you higher. He did not bother to open your with his fingers, he knew your ass would still be stretched from the night before.

It only took a few more lashes of his tongue before your legs clamped together around his head. He moaned on your cock, enjoying the feel of your soft thighs around his head.

When your body stops trembling he pries open your knees, keeping them open as his cock lined up with your entrance. You are too dazed from your orgasm to do anything but lie there as he slowly sinks into your heat.

You both groan at the sensation of him entering you, the burn of the stretch only making the pleasure feel more intense.

He does not give you time to adjust before he is running into you, his heavy balls hitting your skin with each deep thrust. His deep grunts filled your ears, telling you how much he loved being inside you, filling you up with his cum.

A tightness starts to grow in your lower abdomen, like a rope slowing twisting, building tension with each thrust. Your legs started to tremble around him, the muscles quivering with anticipation.

You were already so close, you just needed a little bit more. But Bakugou was not going to let you off that easy. Changing the angle of his thrusts until the tightness loosened. You let out a cry of protest, wanting that feeling to return.

"Beg," he growled into your ear, "Beg if you want to cum on my cock."

You wanted to have outraged, to yell at him and demand more. Instead, your pretty lips opened to say, "Please Bakugou, please let me cum on your cock."

His hips shifted again, his thrusts now hitting the pleasure spot inside your ass. "More," he groaned, "Beg me for more."

"Bakugou," you cry, losing the ability to think, "Please, I really need to cum, please let me cum. I'll be a good boy I promise, please just let me cum."

"A good boy hm? What does my good boy want me to do?" he panted, his thrusts growing sloppier.

"My cock," you babble, barely coherent, "Please play with my cock."

His lips press themselves on your forehead, wordlessly rewarding your words as his hand slipped down your body, settling on your straining cock. Your body jolts as fingers rub across the head of your cock, spreading the precum that had accumulated.

His strong finger surrounded your cock, stroking the tender skin in time with his thrusts. It was enough. With a silent scream, the rope inside you released, sending you spiraling.

You could not control your body as convulsions traveled through you, making every muscle tense. Bakugou watched his hard work pay off before your clenching hole finally pushed him over the edge. A low groan left his lips as he spilled inside you, his balls twitching as he filled you to the brim with his cum.

He does not bother to pull his cock out as he lifts you into his arms, holding your chest to chest as he carries you back to his tree. Having you filled with his cum finally allowed him to calm down enough to realize why you had been taken but he did not regret destroying everything around him. Humans needed to know who you belonged to the next time they try to take you away.

#bakugou thirst #mha thirsts #bnha thirst #bakugou x male reader #bakugou thirsts

809 notes · View notes

adrian-the-lonely-writer · 3 years

Text

Transitions

A fluffy 'Dean WinchesterXTrans!Male' Reader one-shot where you had come out to Dean, and Dean decided he's going to do everything he can to support you.

“So,” Dean began. His heart was pounding. He rather be facing any number of ghosts and ghouls to avoid fucking this part up. Hell, he’d even take a few demons over this. Anything over these tense emotional moments. Still, he was glued to the bed, hand holding yours. He loved you. He wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of helping you.

“Y-yeah?” You stumbled over your words. You had no idea how your boyfriend was going to handle the news. Tears were threatening to fall over your cheeks as you kept your eyes glued to the floor.

Dean swallowed. Dammit, his brother mentioned something like this in the past. Why couldn’t he remember now? “Well in that case, I suppose we better get you some comfier clothes. C’mon.” He stood up, offering his hand to you. Looking up, you saw that same smile dance across his lips, the same smile you fell in love with. “Wouldn’t want my boyfriend to be uncomfortable.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you jumped into his arms, relief and love washing over you. Dean just chuckled, quietly as he shifted to wrap his arms around you, squeezing you against him. “Thanks Dean…Thank you so much.”

“Of course. You have a different name you like to be called now?”

“Y/N now- I uh, kinda picked it out when I realized I just-”

“Y/N is perfect babe.” His lips left a light little peck at your nose. “C’mon. Sammy’s with Bobby looking for another job, let’s take the day to get you feeling as good as possible, hm? I just had that great poker payout-”

“I thought that was for silver bullets-”

“Pshh. I can win another game or too.” Dean went to smile, but it quickly drooped into a frown. “Your clothes...do they make you feel-” He tried to find the right word.

“Dysphoric? Well I mean a bit. I didn’t exactly have time to choose great clothes when I ran off with you Dean.” Before you could even finish your sentence, Dean was digging through his duffle.

“I was going to drop them off somewhere, they feel a little small.” Dean grinned, poking his head back up. In his hands were an AC/DC shirt and an old pair of jeans. He even pulled out his spare hunting boots. “Might not be the most practical all the time, but we’ll get you some stuff today.”

You tried not to cry once again.

Few minutes later, you found yourself wrapped up in your boyfriend's clothes, in the passenger seat of the car. AC/DC rang out through the speakers. You couldn’t help but smile.

“You...really don’t mind Dean?”

“Mind? Why the hell would I mind?”

“Well you were into me as a-”

“I am into you, period.” Dean smiled a little. “Masculine, feminine, It makes no difference to me. You are still you. So, clothes we’re doing. Not half assed Walmart clothes either, we’re gonna get you some good hunting gear.” You couldn’t help but chuckle a little at that. “Masculine fake IDs from now on, easy enough. Anything else you need?”

“At the moment, I’m not sure...I kinda like what Sam does with his hair so I don’t think I’ll cut it off yet. It isn’t as long as his at the moment anyway.” You giggled at the scrunch in Dean’s nose at the mention of his brother.

“Cute guy with a ponytail never hurts either. Ah. Here’s the shop.”

“Dean this is a mall-”

“Yeah, sporting goods, including guns, bullets, as well as various clothing stores to get you what you need. Plus crowds to blend into. Malls are great Y/N.” He turned into the parking lot, picking a spot somewhere in the middle. “Plus, the impala doesn’t stick out too much here.”

Dean slipped out of his side, opening the door for you before you were even unbuckled. His calloused hand still felt tender as it grasped yours tightly, pulling you towards the store.

Your boyfriend was right after all. The crowds were seamless and the selection would be much greater.

“I’m thinking, we hit the sporting goods store, get some food and supplies. Take our time with it. Then just meet up with Sam and Bobby for the job, sound good Y/N?”

“Sounds perfect Dean.” Your smile was glued to your face as you leaned against his arm walking into the shop Dean had picked. “Is this where you got all your flannels and things?”

“Most of em, yeah. Why? You like that one?” He winked as he saw your cheeks turn a little pink. Sure, you loved the flannel. It made you feel more you, it also smelled like the man you loved more than anything.

“Well it’s nice and warm and-” You tripped over your words again. “Just really nice hunting clothes ya know? Like durable enough you have some protection, it’s also warm enough for nights but I can always open it ya know.”

“Great. So a couple flannels. Some jeans that won’t trip you up. Shirts.” Dean guided you to the clothing area of the store, whipping out his cellphone.

“Dean? Something the matter?” He doesn’t often look at his screen with that much concentration.

“Nope. I was just looking at a size chart.” He matched his screen to a couple of the tags. “These your colors?” He held out some forest green flannel and a black shirt.

“To start with, yeah! Although lighter colors are still nice. I don’t want anything thinking I’m your little brother if I match your style.”

“My style is functional and timeless. Plus, if I had a nickel for everyone who thought Sam and I should-” He scowled as you laughed. You couldn’t help but pick up those books when you saw them. Plus, as prank wars broke out it definitely gave you an upper hand.

“Alright, I concede your style is wonderful Dean.”

“Damn right it is.” He smiled a little. “But I get it, c’mon. Let’s walk around and see what catches your eye.”

The two of you scoured the store from top to bottom. Dean’s arms quickly became laden with fabric as you both approached the fitting rooms.

“Find everything you need sir, and-?” The guy in charge of the rooms spoke.

“Sir.” You introjected. Your heart rate spiked a little. Dean’s hand rested on your shoulder as he nodded to the cashier, as if confirming what you said.

“Of course, right this way. Here is your room, sir.” Without batting an eye the cashier escorted you back to try on your new wardrobe.

“Give 'em hell babe!” Dean called after you, taking his seat. He fiddled with his phone. Sam had finally convinced him to upgrade, and this one had a camera on it.

Quickly, pulse racing, you put on the first outfit of clothes, and slipped outside to model for Dean. Your nerves subsided when met with that goofy grin of his, and you couldn’t help but match it.

“You look amazing.”

“I feel amazing.”

“Wanna try more?” Dean snapped a photo. “That’s gonna be my new cell wallpaper.” You stuck your tongue out to him, a look he cheekily returned.

You went through this a few more times. Different mixed and matched outfits and hunting gear. Dean flirting with you every time you slipped into his sight. Soon you had a week's worth of clothes, with some extras to wear during a wash. Eventually you made it towards the food court, carrying the bags. You both went immediately to the burger stand and sat down.

“Fucck~” Dean’s eyes were closed in bliss. “I forgot how amazing these burgers were.”

“God we ate at gas stations so much I had forgotten food could be juicy.” You were devouring your burger as ravenous as Dean was. Oblivious to the look he was giving you.

Dean just smiled, chewing as he looked at you. It had only been a few months since you were traveling with him. Demon blooded kid like Sammy, you wanted to be able to help. Truthfully you were thankful they accepted.

Dean sometimes kicks himself at night for almost saying no. He had fallen for you, hard, the first time you rode in the back of the car. The way your eyes lit up as his own music started to play. The way you got along with Sam. He had fallen hard. You were perfect in his eyes now as you were then.

“Dean?...” Your voice was quiet, head against the window. After eating Dean had loaded you and your new things into the impala before starting to make your guy’s way to Bobby's place.

The excitement of the day had driven your eyelids to a close by this point. The soft rumblings of the engine were lulling you to sleep. Dean’s hand found yours once more, with a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah babe?”

“I love you Dean…”

“I love you too Y/N.” His words were the last things you heard before finally succumbing to sleep.

Dean drove on, hand never leaving yours. He had found the best boyfriend in the world, and he intended to keep things that way.

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #dean x y/n #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #fanfic #trans man #trans pride #trans reader #pride #dean winchester x transreader #transmasc #trans ftm #gay ftm #ftm

157 notes · View notes

stylesberries · 3 years

Text

My Princess

Summary: You tag along with Harry to his Vogue shoot. The dress is definitely a turn on.

Genre(s): purest smut of all

Word Count: 1.5k

Warning(s): smut??? use of butt plugs, sub!harry (not a warning, more of a welcoming sign)

“Harry! A little more to the left! Yes, great!” the photographer kept giving Harry instructions on adjusting his poses for the December Vogue cover photoshoot. You sat next to dressed up Gemma on the bench in the field of tall grass chatting and observing from a distance.

“He’s pulling the dress off better than I ever could.” You told Gemma, letting your gaze go back and forth from her to your boyfriend.

“Same. No way I could ever feel confident enough to wear that. It’s so puffy.” Gemma giggled, diving deeper into the blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

“He looks like a princess.” You announce, looking at the man with adoration.

Harry caught your creepy stare and wondered what was going through that pretty little head of yours.

“Whatcha thinking, pretty?” He asked, smirking at you, knowing exactly what you were thinking.

“You look like a princess!” You exclaimed loudly, smiling widely at Harry. Your words surprised him and caused a dimple to appear on his smiling face. Harry put a hand on his defined waist and stroke a silly pose to make you laugh.

“A princess, huh? Well, would you be my Prince Charming then?” He shamelessly flirted with you, flapping his lashes at you.

“I’m down to be your Prince Charming any day.”

Harry swears he could feel his dick twitch in his briefs.

Thank God I’m wearing a dress.

Harry kept posing and for another 30 minutes and the whole time you’d keep shamelessly flirting. Gemma had to stop herself from throwing up at how disgusting you two got. At some point, she snuck away to talk to Anne on the phone (at least that’s what she used as an excuse) and left you and Harry on the verge of foreplay.

“This dress would look beautiful on you, you know,” Harry said, turning his back to you, obviously asking you to unzip the dress.

You two stood in the middle of his trailer that parked in the open of the field. Harry had to change into the other outfit his stylist picked for him to continue the photoshoot.

“You know I don’t wear stuff like that.” You answered him, slowly unzipping the back of his dress, looking into his eyes through the reflection in the mirror.

Harry felt the mood rapidly change. He watched your eyes darken as you kept prolonging the unzipping of the dress, slowly dragging your cold fingers against his skin behind the zipper.

Harry couldn’t help but let out a soft moan as he felt the tip of your tongue leave a wet trace along his spine.

“Ah, please,” Harry whined, letting you wrap your arm around his waist holding him from running away from your wet tongue.

“Please what, baby?” You teased him further, running your nails against the wet trace along his spine.

“Please, touch me.” He begged, pushing his back against your chest in hopes that your arm would move a little lower and touch his crotch even though he knew how much you hated it when he wasn’t patient.

“What do you think you’re doing, huh? You should be patient. And here I thought you were a good boy.” You added the last words knowing that it would make him go crazy.

Harry’s eyes went wide as he no longer felt your hands or tongue on him. You completely retreated and walked to the couch on the opposite side of the trailer. Harry felt cold and his naked back only added to it.

“No, no, please.” He turned his face to you as you watched the look full of regret on his face. You sat back against the couch and watched your boyfriend slowly walk up to you.

“Stop.” You commanded.

Harry didn’t dare go against your command and stopped the second you told him to.

“What do you have to say when you’re being bad?” You asked him, looking into his sad eyes. His lips trembled as he stood in the middle of his trailer.

“I’m sorry for being a bad boy, mommy.” He whispered the last part to himself but you still heard it loud and clear.

“What do bad boys have to do for mommy to forgive them?” You ask Harry, getting comfortable in your seat, getting ready for what was to come.

Harry understood you right away and his eyes went straight to his tote bag. He walked to it and pulled a small sunglasses case from it. Inside the case, there was a small bottle of lube and a butt plug with a green stone on its end.

You didn’t say anything and just watched as Harry fell on his knees, his back facing you. Harry opened the lube bottle and poured some lube on the butt plug, some on it dripping on the front of his dress.

You stayed silent throughout the show, watching as he presses his face against the flood of the trailer and pulls the puffy dress out of the way for you to see his ass covered with the fabric of his briefs, a visible dark spot on the part covering his hard dick.

Harry waited for your “blessing” with the lubed-up butt plug in his one hand and pulling his underwear down his legs revealing his twitching cock and his gaping hole with the other.

“Start.” You commanded, moving to the edge of the couch to see Harry slowly insert the tip of the butt plug into his hole.

A deep whine left Harry’s mouth as he felt himself spread welcoming the wet cold metal inside.

“Silent. Only good boys get to make noises.” You growled at him.

Harry kept his mouth shut, pressing his face against the floor to muffle his moans, taking the butt plug in completely. His hand left the green-stoned end and pushed his upper half off the floor to stand on all fours.

“What a nice view, H.” You cooed, looking at the pretty green stone - the evidence of the fullness your boyfriend was feeling.

You got up from your seat and made a U-turn to stand in front of Harry, facing him on his fours. You pressed your fingers under his chin, pushing his face up to look at you.

Harry’s face was covered in tears that kept dripping from his eyes from how turned on he was and how much he needed to cum.

“Awww look at this. What a filthy slut, huh.” You kept teasing Harry and watched his face contort in pain as he felt his dick twitch and his hole squeeze around the butt plug.

“Would you want to say something?” You asked, raising your eyebrow from curiosity.

“Mommy, I’m so sorry. I’ll be a good boy. Please let me cum. It hurts.” Harry begs on his knees quite literally.

“Hm. You have been following my commands so far. Get up and put your briefs back on.” You think out loud and step away, letting Harry get up from his knees. The dress puff fell back in place and covered his filthy wet hole and hard dick. Harry bent over to put his underwear back on. When he was ready he looked back at you standing in front of him, waiting for your next instruction.

You sent him a smile, walking up to him and reaching between you two to push the front dress ruffles up and sneak your hand in his underwear to free his painfully swollen dick out of its prison.

Harry just stood there waiting patiently this time.

“Oh. You’re so hard, baby. Does it hurt?” You ask, looking into his eyes with a pitiful look.

“Yes, mommy,” Harry whined.

“Good.” You quickly say and spit onto his almost-purple cock, getting it wet and letting go of the rubber band of his underwear. It painfully snapped against his lower abdomen and caused his dick to be pushed back tightly against the wet fabric. A desperate moan left Harry’s mouth following your actions.

You proceeded to walk out of the trailer before turning around and looking at Harry one last time before opening the door to leave.

He stood there, his dress - pulled up, the light fluffs of the expensive dress - a mess. Some puffs had drops of dried lube on them and Harry’s face was red from the shame of what just happened. The tears had already dried on his cheeks. He was still squeezing around the now-warm butt plug and thinking about how much his dick hurts. Pathetic.

“What a pretty little princess you are.” You coo at Harry before turning your back to him and exiting the trailer.

You walk away from the trailer and make your way back to where you have last seen Gemma.

“Oh, hey, Y/N. Is Harry coming? We have a couple more pictures to take. He’s taking a while.” The photographer asks you the second he sees you.

“Um. Not sure. You could check his trailer though.”

#harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles masterlist #harry styles blurbs #harry styles vogue #harry styles sub #sub!harry

951 notes · View notes

cibeewastaken · 3 years

Text

hello this is just a very self indulgent Drarry+Romione fic about Draco and Ron kissing bc I literally hasn’t stop thinking about Draco --innocent crush--> Ron after reading The Bolthole. I don’t know how to tag this.

Thank you, as always for @pineau-noir for the wonderful beta work. On Ao3

“Just so we’re clear,” Ron started, “how serious are you?”

Draco was busy pouring himself another daiquiri (his latest obsession) “I’m never serious.”

“So you’re just taking the piss,” Ron said, and he wasn’t sure if the lump that dropped from the base of his throat was due to relief or disappointment. “About your crush on me.”

“Hm?” Draco said. “That? Oh, I’m serious about that.”

Ron took a big gulp of his beer. “You can’t be.”

“I am certain I am.”

“You’re Harry’s boyfriend.”

“Yes, I haven’t forgotten.”

“And does he know you’re—I mean, if you really do have a—er, if you aren’t just messing with me—”

“He knows I’m serious,” Draco said. The daiquiri had stained his lips pink (pinker, Ron’s mind added).

Harry’s laughter came from the kitchen where he was doing the washing up with Hermione.

“Granger knows I’m serious as well,” Draco added, and smirked when Ron flushed. “God, aren’t you lovely when you blush,” he said.

That made Ron blushed harder. “No, she doesn’t. She wouldn’t like it.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “She isn’t threatened by me,” he said. “Why would she care?”

“And Harry?”

“Likewise.”

“He doesn’t think of me as a threat, even though his boyfriend continues to flirt with his best friend?”

“Perhaps I phrased it wrong.” Draco threw back his drink. He sat the glass down and leaned back, peering at Ron from under his lashes, the way he often did. The way that always threw Ron off balance. “Both Granger and Harry are secure in the knowledge that we love them. It’s as simple as that.”

Ron said nothing. He didn’t know what to say.

“I can only speak for myself, of course,” Draco continued. “But I could have a pash on a million people, and I wouldn’t love anyone but Harry.”

He poured himself another daiquiri, grinning, obviously enjoying the look on Ron’s face.

“It’s as simple as that,” he repeated.

Harry came back to the living room with Hermione, and he only needed one look at Ron’s face to know something was up. “What did you do to him?” he sighed.

“Nothing!” Draco said. “I just told him he was lovely, and I would kiss him if he lets me, that I like his strong arms, etcetera, etcetera. You’ve heard it all.”

Ron let out a squeak. He could feel himself sitting ramrod straight.

Hermione gave Draco an amused look. Harry laughed.

“I — I wouldn’t do that to—” Ron said, but he obviously didn’t know if he should direct it to Hermione or Harry.

“It’s fine. You know I don’t mind his crush on you,” she said.

“Do you now?” Ron replied weakly. Hermione patted him on the thigh. She traded a look with Harry, and Ron noticed it immediately.

“What?” Ron said. “What was that?”

“I think you should try,” Hermione said. “If you want to, of course.”

“What?”

“Letting Draco kiss you,” Harry said. He was looking at Draco, whose confident smirk had melted away as he blinked dazedly at Harry. Ron watched the way Draco’s lips dropped open.

“Huh?” Ron said.

Hermione kissed her husband on the cheek. “I think it would be good for you.” She stood up. “All right, boys, I should head home. I have a case to prep for tomorrow.”

“Wait, what?” Ron said again. Hermione leaned down to hug him.

“Let me know how it goes tonight,” she whispered, and with a pop, she was gone.

Ron looked to Harry and Draco. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

Harry’s thumb was rubbing on the back of Draco’s hand.

“I want to kiss you,” Draco said to Ron. “If you’ll let me.”

“You don’t look like you want to,” Ron said.

Draco bristled, as though insulted that his declaration wasn’t being taken seriously. “Of course I want to!”

Harry squeezed Draco’s hand, and with that, Draco stood and plopped himself right next to Ron. He wasn’t giving Ron flirtatious little glances like he was wont to do. Draco’s eyes would meet Ron’s and immediately move away, and it wasn’t until Ron noticed the tightly clenched hands did he realize that Draco was nervous.

That changed everything. And the next second, Ron was kissing Draco Malfoy.

Draco let out a shaky breath, but he was kissing back eagerly. He grabbed Ron’s biceps (a subject of many of Draco’s infatuated speeches to Ron), and despite all the big talk of giving Ron the very best of snogs, he seemed unable to do anything besides be thoroughly kissed.

Ron said, with a small laugh in the brief moment where their lips parted, drinking in Draco’s daiquiri soaked gasps, “Never took you as a passive kisser.”

Draco didn’t look angry at that. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he said, and as always, it was the praise that threw Ron off. In that momentary lapse, Draco was on him, a hand cupping his jaw, the other gripping his hair, fully kissing him. Ron’s arms wrapped around Draco after flailing for a bit. He heard Harry’s laughter. Draco’s tongue was insistent and wicked and tasted like raspberry. He was sure if Draco had more daiquiris in his system he would have climbed into Ron’s lap by now. Ron gripped the back of Draco’s neck so he could press his mouth against Draco harder, and Draco let out a moan so bone-meltingly sweet Ron’s body went slack for a second and was very eagerly gathered up in Draco’s arms.

Draco broke the kiss and started to drop light kisses all over Ron. Ron laughed, squirming when Draco landed on a particularly sensitive spot. The sofa behind Ron dipped and suddenly there was another pair of lip pressing kisses on his face, neck, and shoulders. “Stop!” Ron laughed. “You’re killing me!”

Harry chuckled. His arm was around both Ron and Draco. Draco grinned down at Ron. There was a lovely flush high on his cheek, and he looked happy.

“Oh, I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” Draco said fondly.

“I just wanted to make you laugh,” Harry said.

“Wankers, the both of you,” Ron said, breathlessly. His stomach hurt from laughing and he stood up to stretch it out, causing Harry and Draco to fall into each other on the sofa, laughing.

“You’re made for each other,” Ron said, throwing pillows at them. Harry shielded Draco from the ruthless attack of lumpy objects as Draco yelped at the offense. Looking at them, with the taste of Draco still warm on his lips, he never wanted to see Hermione as much as he did now. He thought he was starting to understand what Draco meant.

Ron threw the last pillow at them and ignored Draco’s loud protest about cleaning up. Harry rolled his eyes and said As if you’ll be the one to clean up and Draco replied Supervising you is a full-time job—! And it was obvious Ron was free to go.

“Think of me!” Draco said as Ron stepped into the fireplace, and the last thing Ron saw before the fire took him away was Draco and Harry in each other’s arms, smiling like nothing else existed.

#I don't actually like this in the end #but I needed to get it out haha #draco malfoy/ron weasley #dron #drarry #draco malfoy/harry potter #dronarry #draco malfoy/harry potter/ron weasley #my fic

281 notes · View notes

thosewickedlovelies · 3 years

Text

The answer | Frankie Morales x GN!Reader x Santiago Garcia

Summary: Questions are asked and answered. Takes place immediately following “Ask me”

Rating: E for Explicit

Tags: SMUT, threesome, reader is penetrated; best friends who have always been a little bit in love with each other vibes (inspired by this photo)

Word Count: 1,743

A/N: I’ve been kinda wanting to challenge myself to do a gender-neutral smut piece, and I thought this would be a good opportunity to do so :) I’ve never written anything like this before (in terms of both the gender-neutrality and the gay vibes), so I’m open to (gentle) constructive criticism <3

“Worry about me later, baby,” Frankie urges. “Right now what I want is to take care of you.” Nectar drips from his voice like that fateful fruit, slicking your descent toward sweet surrender.

"Or watch me take care of you, anyway,” Santiago adds. Still crouched on his knees before you, lips glistening, the round of his spine suggests laser-focus, a predator about to pounce. There’s a hint of a smirk on his face, but the look in eyes is deferent as he glances over your shoulder to Frankie.

Your partner’s body enfolds you like a silk hammock, a warm, rippling sea in which you have no fear of drowning. Frankie’s chest is bare and smooth against your back, supporting you as if he’s only here to reinforce your pleasure, and not partake of it himself. Although if his words from moments ago were any indication, he was indeed getting his own enjoyment:

“Too good to me, baby,” murmured through sloppy kisses and removing clothes.

“Fuck, you look so good between us,” groaned into your ear while you squirmed, callused fingers on your nipples and Santi's mouth on your neck.

“Yeah, let me hear you,” satisfaction barely audible over the irrepressible moan that Santi drew from you as he slowly worked you open.

Meaningfully Frankie skates his palms down over your hips, dipping tantalizingly close to the burning between them before winging away. Fingers digging into the plush flesh, he spreads your thighs for Santi.

Again. The air vanishes from your lungs at Frankie’s gesture.

He keeps you pinned open as Santiago inches forward and you’re certain you’re trembling, even as fresh arousal wells in anticipation. This feels so much more, somehow- suddenly immediate and undeniable that you’re really here, about to be fucked by your boyfriend’s best friend while said boyfriend holds you open for him.

Perhaps because this isn’t just affecting you. You note, through the throbbing heat demanding your attention, the tension in Frankie’s body framing you. How careful Santi is about where he places his hands- on you or the couch, no longer bold and teasing with Frankie. The skitter of his gaze, like he doesn’t know quite where to focus now that he’s facing both of you so directly. You wonder where Frankie is looking.

When Santi is finally nestled to the base inside you, an inch for every panting breath, you’re not the only shaky one. His muscles quiver with the effort of holding himself over you, the feeling of you engulfing him threatening to overwhelm his good sense. For a moment there is only the strained rise and fall of your chests as both men wait for you to adjust. It’s akin to being rocked by the swells of an ocean, only in this case your anchor is Santiago, keeping his hips flush with yours, keeping you present on the delicious, searing stretch of his cock.

Frankie’s tongue on your neck makes you shiver, and Santi gasps when you clench around him. Smiling, you admire the gleam of sweat at his temples, the desperate lines around his squeezed-shut eyes. It’s difficult to maneuver yourself in this position, but you arch your body into his as best you can, giving him permission to move with a squeeze of his muscular ass.

A raspy laugh slips from him. It’s a bit clumsy at first- accommodating to the weave of limbs in which the three of you are entangled. Possibly this would be easier on a bed or even the floor, but it’s far too late to move now, lost in each other as you are. You know the boys would agree- even if you had the opportunity to be transported with merely a snap of the fingers, it feels right that this should happen here, on a slightly cramped couch, stifling smiles and snorts of laughter but never your eagerness for each other.

Santiago is impossibly beautiful like this. Every hard-earned muscle on display, working in harmony to the cadence that’s always swayed the three of you, however unconsciously. His eyes half-lidded and hazy, his little groans of effort and pleasure complementing Frankie’s caresses. It’s clear from Frankie’s own awed murmurs that he’s experiencing the same bliss you are, and he lets his hands linger on your front so his knuckles brush Santi’s torso. Like strings on a loom pulling gradually tighter, the design you three are creating becomes steadily clearer.

“Damn,” Frankie says hoarsely. The angle of your head prevents you from seeing his expression fully, but you make a wordless sound of wholehearted agreement.

“Mm?” Santiago hums in question despite his own daze, spying something in Frankie’s face that you missed.

“Just…it’s obvious which one of us aged better.”

Frankie’s voice is strained, his body tense. He’s been hard since the moment Santiago said yes, but a tangible slippery patch has grown against your back while the other man rocked in and out of you, long, measured strokes making an easy smear of Frankie’s cock.

Santi looks up, startled. Then his smile crooks. “Shut up, Frank,” he laughs, and the kiss to your shoulder doesn’t feel like it’s for you.

Frankie chuckles, raspy and affectionate, and it’s like the picture is finally identifiable, an outline of this potential future woven clear.

The turn of your head gets their attention. Santiago slows his hips as you stretch your neck toward Frankie, his lips just reachable in this position. But Santi’s thrusts still entirely when you face him next, your kiss brim-full of the same contentment you’d given Frankie. Something fraught flickers between the two men when you pull back; Santiago looks almost shy as, hesitantly and then all at once, he presses his lips to the corner of Frankie’s mouth for a lingering, reverent second.

Frankie’s eyes close and his head tips back as Santi drops his forehead to your shoulder. His curls catch on the bristly hair of Frankie’s jaw, steady, rhythmic again, and you’re not sure of the delineations between your bodies anymore. You feel full, in more ways than one, surrounded both physically and emotionally.

Frankie’s moans are music to your ears as you reach behind you, stroking his cock as best you can while semi-laying on it. Fuck, his husky sounds never fail to heat your blood- a new experience for Santiago, you’re guessing, from the way his eyes flare, fixed on his friend’s dropped-open mouth. There’s been no particular hurry to your activities thus far, but a sense of urgency is growing now, blossoming with every drag of skin on skin, every throaty plea weighting the humid air.

It’s not long before Santi’s grasp on your shoulder slips, flushed with sweat as you are. Fumbling, he braces himself on Frankie’s broader frame, and your partner holds his hand in place, unthinking. Santiago swears. He looks you over, eyes a little wild, then back up at Frankie, imploring.

Obliging, Frankie’s other hand snakes down your front, fingers searching, circling where you’re most sensitive. Distantly you’re aware of him rutting against your back, tiny whines scraping his throat with a familiar desperation. Everything in you tightens around the slick jerk of his fingers.

You cry out as you come, hips arching into Santiago, flattening Frankie’s hand between you. Santi gasps ragged and guttural as you spasm around him, and your rapture careens abruptly higher at the speed and force with which he’s suddenly slamming into you. A jumble of hands hold your shuddering frame in place as Santiago finds his own release, shoving the three of you impossibly deeper into each other.

For a moment it feels as if you’re floating, your body tethered only by the bruising clutch of your hands and theirs. As your awareness returns, you notice that Frankie is rigid behind you, still quivering, his lower half contorted as if to gain as much contact with your skin as possible.

Oh. There’s far too much wetness against your back for it to just be sweat.

A giddy, dreamy laugh wisps from your next exhale. Frankie doesn’t react, but Santi rolls his head to face you with a drowsy hm?

You disentangle one of your hands and lift it to gently rub Frankie’s scalp with your fingertips, tousling the curls as if scratching a pet’s ears. “Just glad we were all able to make it.” Your still-breathless tone carries your meaning. You twist your head to kiss the nearest bit of him, which happens to be his jaw.

Santi lifts his head, his expression somewhere between surprised and smug. Frankie only gives an airy shrug, inclining his head to mouth at your shoulder; the space now shared by both men’s faces.

“Meant what I said,” Frankie offers in his low voice. His gaze flits over what it can reach of Santiago’s naked body.

Surprise completely overtakes the smugness in Santi’s face, his mouth curving up as if he’s powerless to stop it. You observe in delighted disbelief. You know from experience how much it normally takes to make Santiago blush- yet here he is, all afluster at a few words from Frankie. Chuckling, Santi ducks his head again.

You wriggle sideways slightly so as to better see more of Frankie’s face, a shift that results in Santi leaning on him with his whole arm and flank. The thoughtful flicker of his eyes over Frankie’s further exposed torso doesn’t go unnoticed.

“We’ll see,” is all Santiago says; but his contentment is palpable, his tiny smile a confession. Frankie relaxes as the other man collapses again, this time with his head more on Frankie’s shoulder than yours.

The sun is past its peak now, longer shadows interrupting its shine through the windows, but the three of you don’t need it. You can all but see the afterglow illuminating, the way the filaments of a lantern gradually brighten as they warm, casting gentle light on the possibilities presented here.

You regard Santi with an indulgent smile. You sweep it up to Frankie next, softening at the sight of his unruly hair and the relief with which he returns it. There’s an unspeakable kind of gratitude mingling with the adoration in his eyes. As if his thanks could possibly be necessary; as if you would have ever denied either of them the opportunity to explore such long-contained feelings, no matter what your original proposition for this afternoon may have been.

“Next time,” Frankie murmurs, his lips brushing Santiago’s brow, “we’re doing this in a bed.”

Taglist: @thirstworldproblemss, @leonieb

#triple frontier fic #triple frontier #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #frankie x reader x santi #triple frontier imagine

106 notes · View notes

phy-be · 3 years

Text

| treasured | a david/genya fic

my participation to the mini-bang for @grishaversebigbang ♡ This was so fun to write, and a million thank you to my two wonderful materialki! Please check out their amazing work:

@nuclearnik [link] @zemenipearls [link]

Rating: General Audiences Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, proposal, set between Ruin and Rising and King of Scars, Canon Compliant, david is a nerd and he loves his soul mate very very much, cw: nerdy descriptions of rocks, Grishaverse Minibang Summary:

“David, you didn’t have to…”

He frowned and cocked his head. “Yes, I did. It’s customary to gift a ring when asking someone’s hand in marriage.”

He was never good at understanding social norms, but he was pretty sure he’d gotten that one right.

David pressed the button on the side of his microscope goggles, switching the lens to a more magnifying glass. In the palm of his gloved hand, a crystal gleamed, like sparks of purple fire trapped in stone. The light hit each of its faces in slightly different ways, creating an explosion of colours and geometrical shapes. It was even more beautiful seen up close, when David could not only admire the beauty of the thing, but also the elegant laws of science that made the light refract just so.

Crystals were complicated to work with. Their beauty was due to a highly specific geometry at the molecular level, and any careless alteration could damage their inner core, breaking the stone or making it duller. Even if some were strong enough to cut glass, crystals were precious; they needed to be handled with the utmost care.

David loved working on crystals.

His quiet work was interrupted by anguished sobs coming from the bed.

Quickly, he slipped the stone in a bit of fabric and rushed from his desk. Genya was having another nightmare. Throwing off his glasses and gloves, he hurried to find her on the bed. He took her in a protective embrace as she sobbed, screamed, legs jerking in panic. She clawed at the air around, desperately chasing off a horde of invisible nichevo'ya.

“Stop,” she begged. She wasn’t talking to him.

David held her tighter. Every time he saw her this way, so anguished and pained, helpless to her inner demons, a bitter guilt settled in him, consigned in a single thought: I should have protected her.

Then the guilt faded into hot-white anger — at the Darkling, who had done this to her, who had known how much it would hurt and keep hurting her — until David discarded that emotion, too. Rage and regret were not useful feelings to linger on. Helping Genya get through this, making her pain more bearable — these were the only things that mattered.

Eventually her movements calmed, her hiccupping sobs turning into shallow breaths and silent tears. David caressed her hair, the auburn locks softer than any silk he’d ever felt, and dropped feather-light kisses on her forehead. Genya nestled closer to him, burying her face in his neck. He could feel the wetness of her tears trickling on his skin.

“You’re safe, dear,” he whispered, knowing that he would do everything in his power to make sure this would always be true, from now on. “You’re safe.”

Her grip tightened on his shirt.

“W-were you awake?” she said, her voice still shaken.

David recognized the change of topic as her way to distract herself from the nightmares that lingered in her wakefulness. He played along.

“Yes,” he said, kissing her hair. “I was working late.”

“It’s almost morning,” she murmured. “You work late a lot lately.”

“I’m working on a project.”

“What project?”

David hesitated; Tamar had said he was supposed to keep it a secret. Keeping anything from Genya was hard enough normally, but when she was vulnerable like this, it was downright impossible.

He got up to get the piece of fabric — Genya followed him out of bed, not wanting to let go of his embrace, and he smiled, endeared. Gently, he led her back to the bed, sat next to her, and put his creation in her open palms.

“It’s not finished,” he warned.

Genya carefully unwrapped the silk. Her eyes widened at the sight of the ring, a glistening band of grisha steel wrapping like branches around a rose-shaped stone. When she turned it to get a better look, the candlelight shining through the crystal switched its colour from red, to purple, to blue.

“I altered the refracting index at different levels of the structure to make the crystal polychromatic,” David explained, excited in spite of himself. “I’ve done this with metals before, but never with crystal. It still needs polishing before I can give it to you, though.”

Genya’s eyebrow shot up, looking shocked. “This is for me?”

“Of course.” He admired the ring against Genya’s hand, as beautiful as he’d expected. It would be perfect once she wore it. Silver and red always complemented her pale, rosy skin, the way gold and purple complemented the bronze colour of his own.

“David, you didn’t have to…”

He frowned and cocked his head. “Yes, I did. It’s customary to gift a ring when asking someone’s hand in marriage.”

He was never good at understanding social norms, but he was pretty sure he’d gotten that one right.

“Y-you’re—” Genya croaked, her skin visibly flushed, “you’re proposing to me?”

“Not right now,” David corrected. “Tamar told me it had to be a special moment, so I’m still working on the details of that.”

He’d been thinking of doing it at sunset, for one. The fiery hues of the sky when the sun slipped under the horizon always reminded him of Genya’s hair, and it would look good on the ring. He’d calculated which part of the palace would be the most adequate spot — a corner of the Summoner’s field provided the perfect exposure for the ring to reflect sunrays and shimmer beautifully — but he needed a reason to bring Genya there that wouldn’t alarm her. Tamar had suggested a picnic, which David had found confusing since they never ate on the training grounds, but Genya did enjoy it when he cooked for her.

His thoughts came to a brutal halt when he realized Genya was crying.

David blinked. Had he done something wrong? He was always so bad at this stuff — he couldn’t count how many times he’d offended someone without meaning to, but Genya usually saw past his awkwardness and understood his meaning.

“Genya…” he said, hesitant, “I’m sorry, did I…”

“You’d want to marry me?” she sniffled, eyes cast down, tears gliding down her cheeks.

David was even more confused. Tamar’s advice hadn’t covered that part. “Yes. Of course.” Had that not been clear?

“Why?” Genya met his gaze. “Why would you… We haven’t even been together that long, you can’t know —”

Like the unknotting of a rope, suddenly, David understood. This was just like the imagined nichevo'ya. She was panicked, sure that the worst was yet to come, that she couldn’t be safe in her own home.

Softly, he cupped her cheeks, bringing her closer. He wished he could take some of the burden that weighed on her, carry it on his shoulders instead of hers, for once; wished he knew the right words to make her feel better, the perfect formula to soothe her fear. But this burden was Genya’s, and David was never good with words. All he could say was the truth.

“I agree that our romantic relationship has not been exceedingly long,” he admitted. A year only accounted for a twentieth of their age so far. Five percent of a life, and some change. “But I have been in love with you for seven years, five months, and twelve days. Our friendship is even older than that,” he pressed his forehead against hers, “and I’ve wanted to marry you from the first time you kissed me.”

His lips brushed hers, an echo of that day at the Spinning Wheel, when the bravest woman in the world had first chosen him.

“I realized at the time that this wasn’t a rational impulse,” he conceded, “so I waited to see how our companionship would grow. I believe I’ve now waited long enough to know. I feel at peace in your company, and I want to make you as happy as you make me.” He pulled back a little, retreating his hands. “Unless you do not want that, in which case I will respect—”

Before he could finish, Genya pulled him into a kiss — the dizzying, head-spinning kind of kiss he’d only ever experienced with her. When she kissed him like that, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, lips flush and panting, David’s usually overworking mind would quiet, snuffed out like the wick of a candle, replaced only by her . Soft hair, delicate skin, lips scarred and still wonderful, her scent a unique aroma he’d come to associate with peace, with home.

“Of course I want to,” she whispered against his lips, smiling coyly.

David kissed that smile, then her cheek, then her temple. “I’m relieved to hear that,” he sighed. “I’ll keep working on that proposal, then.”

Genya laughed, sweet and bright — David didn’t care much for music, but he could have listened to Genya’s laugh for hours. He tucked the ring back in the fabric and put it on the nightstand, where it wouldn’t get lost in the sheets, then took off his shoes and his shirt.

They lied together, Genya’s body half on top of his, snuggling close, as though any space between them might bring in the cold.

Genya brushed her fingers on David’s chest, tracing some patterns.

“So,” she said, her voice now clearer, more sure of herself — Genya in daylight, where the monsters couldn’t touch her. “What was that about seven years, five months, and twelve days?”

“Oh, hm…” David said. He could feel his face heat up, and felt irrationally glad for the brown of his skin, unlikely to show any hint of a blush.

Still, he told her the story of that day. Genya had visited the Fabrikator’s laboratory to make a new cosmetic for the queen. She’d been thirteen years old, and already so creative with her powers. At the time David had only reproduced what his masters had taught him as perfectly as he could, never trying to invent, to create.

But there had been Genya Safin, the first of her kind, inventing everything she did.

It wasn’t the first time they’d met, not even the first time they’d enjoyed each other’s company, but it was the first time David had watched her work. He hadn't even bothered saying hi (which he now realized had been rather rude), too eager to ask her question about her experiment. They’d talked, and when David had gone on a long tangent about his favourite way to colour glass, Genya hadn’t been bored or made fun of his enthusiasm, the way the other students usually did if they bothered to listen to him at all.

She’d listened with care and attention, and then she’d given him her opinion — smart, succinct. Perfect.

“How do you even remember the day this happened?” Genya laughed. “It was so long ago.”

David caressed her shoulder, a soothing, circular motion. “I remember everything, when it comes to you.”

“Cheesy,” she grinned.

“Maybe.” He felt his lips quirk in a smile of his own. “But it’s true.”

She rose up to look at him, her expression turning serious.

“I love you,” she said, the words like a promise. “For even longer than that.”

Gently, David took her wrist, and kissed her palm. “Now, let’s not make it a competition.”

“Wise. You know I’d win.”

“My dear,” he smiled against her hand, “I think I share this victory with you.”

#grishabigbang21 #minibang #grishaverse #david / genya #denya #david kostyk #genya safin

104 notes · View notes

sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 18

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

“Autopsy bay, this is Trudy...yep, one second.”

Trudy shoves her rolling chair across the tiled floor, delivering the cordless phone to Scully with a flourish.

“It’s your man candy,” she says with a smirk, and Scully suppresses an eye-roll as she takes the phone.

“Hi, what’s up?” she greets. Now that he has his own office and more privacy (save for Monica, who’s a friend) he’s taken to calling her more often at work.

“Hey honey, you studied German, right?”

“Yes,” she answers, an expectant lilt to her voice.

“What does ‘unruhe’ mean? U-n-r-u-h-e.”

“Mulder...is this a work call or a personal call?” she questions in a lecturing voice.

“Work, it’s for a case we’re looking at,” he answers plainly.

She sighs, moving the phone to her other ear and turning away so Trudy can’t hear her.

“Mulder, we’ve discussed this. I don’t mind you calling me for help on cases, I don’t even mind looking over medical files for you. But if you’re calling me as a colleague, then I need you to address me as one.”

“Shit, sorry, let’s start over,” he says, and she hears the squeak of him shifting in his chair. She imagines him sitting up straighter, putting forth a professional image, and it makes her smile.

“Hi, what’s up?” she repeats.

“Hello, Dr. Scully, I was wondering if I could ask you to translate some German phrases that appear in a case Agent Reyes and I are investigating, if you have time to spare,” he says in his most distinguished, Special Agent voice.

“Of course, Agent Mulder, I’d be happy to help.”

———

The elevator dings, the doors opening to a quiet and nondescript hallway with a few lonely shelves lining one wall. She steps out, suddenly regretting her insistence that she could find her way to Mulder’s basement office without escort. She makes her way down the hall past a set of bathrooms, and finally arrives outside a closed door.

Fox Mulder

Monica Reyes

Only the names of the occupants, not their division, department nor area of expertise are included, presumably because anyone who ends up down here is already aware of what they are walking in to. She knocks three times and waits, smiling in relief when Monica appears on the other side.

“Hi, Dana, you found us!” she muses, then steps aside so Scully can enter.

It’s an odd office, in so many ways. Oddly shaped, with daylight basement windows and a glass-encased annex, the space is long and narrow which makes it feel big and crowded at the same time. The decor is odd; newspaper clippings and kitschy knick knacks on the walls and every available surface. She smiles at the sight of the house-warming gift she’d purchased for Mulder; a full sized poster of a UFO hovering over evergreen trees with “I Want To Believe” emblazoned across the bottom. Mulder had told her about one just like it he’d had in “the good old days,” and she spent the better part of a week tracking one down after they’d gotten word that the files would be reopened. Though they’ve only inhabited this space for a few weeks, it already looks very lived-in.

Mulder is sitting on the corner of his desk, remote in hand and a slide projector cart situated in front of him. On the wall across from it is a blown up image of a severed head, the eyes partially closed and the lips hanging open. Scully smiles at Mulder and then glances at the screen, frowning at the image but otherwise unaffected.

“Well look at you,” she says with pride in her voice, crossing the room to stand before him where he touches her waist and places a kiss on her cheek. “And who’s this?” she asks, turning again to the screen.

“This,” Mulder says, standing and moving closer to the image, “is Leonard Betts. Or it was, anyway.”

“What’s so special about Mr. Betts that he’s found himself in an X file?” Scully asks.

“Would you believe me if I told you that after Mr. Betts was decapitated, his headless body got up and walked right out of the morgue?” Mulder asks with a cheeky grin, and she glances at Monica, who just shrugs.

“No, I wouldn’t, I’m afraid,” she answers.

“Well, since seeing is believing, Reyes and I will be heading up to Pittsburgh for a few days to have a look for ourselves,” Mulder says as he turns off the projector and wheels the cart into a corner.

Scully’s heart sinks just a little. Mulder had set the expectation that there was quite a bit of travel involved with being assigned to the X files, but this is the first time he’s actually needed to be away overnight for work. Wanting to be supportive, she keeps her expression neutral, betraying nothing.

He approaches her, standing close so that their conversation feels private, even with Monica seated a few feet away.

“Tell Missy and Byers I’m sorry to cancel our dinner plans tomorrow,” he says with a sympathetic frown.

“Will you be home by the weekend?” she asks quietly, “I was hoping to celebrate your birthday on Sunday.”

He smiles sadly at her. The topic of his approaching birthday has been one they’ve both grappled with for slightly different reasons. He proclaims to have never cared much about his birthday, but knowing that it will mark one year since she walked down the aisle with Ethan makes her want to do something special, to reset the date, in a way. She wants it to be Mulder’s birthday, not the anniversary of the worst decision she ever made.

“Probably, but I can’t make any promises. I’ll do my best, okay?”

She nods, and he leans down to kiss her softly in the middle of her forehead.

“I’ll need to swing by the apartment to pack before we leave this evening, so I’ll see you in a bit,” he continues.

She bids Monica farewell and good luck, then rides the elevator back up to a world where headless bodies don’t roam the streets.

———

Mulder flies home Saturday afternoon, giving her just enough time to throw together a small birthday celebration at the Gunmen’s the following night. Sunday evening she’s sifting through her closet, deciding whether to dress up a little for his benefit. Mulder is lying behind her on the bed fully dressed, pretending he’s on standby to offer fashion advice but in reality he’s just staring at her as she walks from the closet to her dresser in her bra and panties. He has confirmed no fewer than six times that birthday sex is a tradition that she believes in, then suggested that it might be applicable on both the day of his birthday party as well as his actual birthday, which is tomorrow. He seems to be looking forward to that more than getting together with his friends.

“What do you want me to wear, Mulder? It’s your birthday, you pick,” she says in a defeated tone, feeling uninspired by everything she owns.

“What you’re wearing is great, just go with that,” he retorts matter-of-factly, and she looks down at her underwear before giving him a sarcastic sneer.

“I’m sure Frohike would love that,” she says, and he makes a face.

“Maybe just jeans and a T-shirt then. I honestly don’t care, honey, wear whatever you want. I’m just going to take it off later anyway.”

As he finishes speaking, there’s a knock at the door and he stands to answer it, stopping to give her a quick kiss on the crown of her head as he leaves the room.

She pulls out a pair of dark wash jeans and tugs them on, listening as Mulder opens the door and has a muted conversation with someone. It’s a little bit late in the day for solicitors, but they don’t seem to have any boundaries these days. She’s slipping her arms through the sleeves of a blue sweater when Mulder reappears in the doorway.

“Hey Scully?,” he says, his tone strange and unreadable.

“Hm?” she responds, slipping pearl studs into her ears.

“Someone’s here to see you.”

She gives him a quizzical look. “Who?” she asks, and he purses his lips in response.

With a mix of curiosity and trepidation she walks out to the front door, which is slightly ajar. She pulls it open and finds Ethan standing on the other side. Her stomach drops, a flush of adrenaline running from head to toe as ringing sounds off in her ears. She gapes at him, unable to take any kind of action.

“Hi, Dana,” he finally says, somewhat sheepishly. “Sorry to drop by like this, I just, um...I found a spare key to the apartment,” he says, holding up a single key between his thumb and forefinger. “I figured I should return it.”

“Oh,” she replies, then holds out her hand.

He places the key in the center of her palm and she closes her fist around it, then drops her arm to her side. They stand there awkwardly, an expectant feeling hanging between them. Though she’d momentarily forgotten Mulder was there, he suddenly appears by her side.

“I need to go run to the store for something, I’ll be right back, okay?” he says, locking eyes with her on the ‘okay.’ She understands it to be him asking if they need privacy, and if she’s comfortable being left alone with Ethan. She nods with a grateful smile.

After Mulder has retreated down the hallway, she stands to the side and gestures for Ethan to come in. He enters the apartment cautiously, looking around. She closes the door but stays near it.

“Looks different in here,” he remarks, standing behind one of the dining room chairs and resting his palms on it.

She nods and shrugs.

“Was that, uh...is that your boyfriend?” he asks, hitching his thumb towards the door.

Her shoulders drop, a pained expression falling over her face. “Ethan...” she begins, ready to ask him if he came here just to guilt trip her.

“Sorry, forget I asked,” he interjects, shaking his head. “I didn’t come here to give you a hard time, Dana, I promise. I just…” he looks around again, pulling in a deep breath. “You know it will be a year tomorrow, since...and I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. For what happened, and also how things ended.”

She furrows her eyebrows. “What do you have to be sorry for?” she asks.

“I might have said the same thing earlier this year,” he says with a self-deprecating laugh, “but I’ve done a lot of reflecting since we split and I realized that I wasn’t paying a lot of attention to the signals you were sending me. In retrospect, it was pretty obvious that you were having doubts, and I just kind of crossed my fingers and soldiered on. And then after the wedding, you were so unhappy. I just chose not to see it, I guess. And that was wrong of me.”

She feels tears welling in her eyes and her throat becomes tight. She doesn’t trust herself to speak so she just nods.

“I recently started seeing someone,” Ethan continues, “and it’s pretty new, but it’s really made it clear to me that you and I just weren’t a good match. Not because anything was wrong, but...it wasn’t right either, you know?”

She nods again, crossing her arms over her chest as a tear spills over and runs down to her chin.

“So, anyway, I won’t take up any more of your time. I just think a lot about how things ended the last time we saw each other, and how angry I was, and I wanted you to know that I get it now. I understand why you did what you did. And I’m glad that you didn’t spend twenty years suffering through it just to prove a point. We both deserve better than what we had.”

Her face is now contorted into a grimace as she tries to keep from falling apart entirely, overwhelmed with relief and gratitude, and this opportunity to atone. Ethan moves to the door, pulling it open. As he steps into the hall, she clears her throat and forces out the only words she can muster.

“Thank you,” she squeaks, and he turns to look back at her.

With all the anger and resentment faded away, the grief and the guilt washed clean, she sees again the man she once loved very much, who was a good partner to her, even if he wasn’t “the one.”

She moves towards him and he opens his arms, enveloping her in a tight hug. When he loosens his grip, she steps back so she’s just inside the apartment, sniffing and wiping her nose on the back of her hand.

“Goodbye, Dana,” he says with a sad smile.

“Bye,” she says, and closes the door.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files fanfic #alternate universe

30 notes · View notes

theratsareinspace · 3 years

Text

Cigar Smoke and Metal-Karl Heisenberg x Reader

Check out the Masterlist for the complete fic!

Chapter 18

Thunder clapped as Heisenberg shot awake. He summoned his hammer to his palm and frantically looked around, looking for any signs of danger. His eyes softened as his eyes landed on you still sound asleep. He planted a kiss on your temple and slowly got out of bed. He put on his old jacket, reveling in its familiar scent. He decided to sit on the balcony to watch the sunrise, like he used to at the factory before he left. You awoke about an hour after he left. You whined to find the bed cold. Looking around and seeing his hammer, jacket, cigars, and lighter gone, you figured he had gone out onto the balcony. You slipped on a hoodie and went to find him. Sure enough, that’s where he was; he had a smoldering cigar in one hand and a pen in the other, and he was furiously scribbling in a journal. He had fashioned a sheet of metal over a section of the balcony, protecting him from the rain.

“Karl, come inside. You’ll catch cold.” You said,

rubbing your shoulders to keep yourself warm.

“I don’t get colds, sweetheart. Go inside, I’ll come in a bit.”

“What are you writing?” “Summin’.”

“Summin’ like… what?”

“Just summin.” He turned his chair so his back was now facing you.

You sighed; he was impossible to talk to when he was like this. You decided to light a fire to keep you warm. You stacked the firewood and kindling, and soon, you had a nice little fire going in the hearth. Warming your hands, you looked back out the window to see what Heisenberg was doing. He was staring out into the forest, and he was sporting his thinking face.

What could he possibly be pondering now?

“You’re certainly up early.” A voice said from behind you.

You jumped and turned around; it was only Donna carrying a sleeping Angie.

“Jeez, Donna, you scared me… Karl got up, so I got up. Why are you up?”

“I love thunderstorms. I should have guessed he’d be up this early; he always is rather… dramatic when this day comes around.” Donna looked sympathetically at Karl’s pondering silhouette.

“What’s today?” You asked, tilting your head. “Oh, my apologies. If he hasn’t told you, I will not. It is not my business, anyway.” She sat on the sofa as Angie shifted in her arms. “When we were both younger, I would always invite him over on the anniversary… just so he’d have some company.”

You sat next to Donna, spreading a blanket over the three of you.

You sat in silence for a long while, listening to the rain and watching the fire.

As you began to fall back asleep, you couldn’t help but wonder what happened on this date that made Karl so… Karl. From what Donna told you, it was so significant that it still affected him; it still affected him a possible century later. Sleep took you into its sweet embrace soon after the sun started to rise.

Karl tossed his coat onto the floor as he came back inside.

“Is she asleep?” He asked Donna as he sat next to you.

“Yes. But she’s worried.” Donna said, setting down her embroidery.

“Why? I’m fine.”

Donna raised an eyebrow. “You need to tell her what happened so she knows why you are broody.”

He rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t need to know. It’ll scare her.”

“You have already done many things that have scared her, Karl. Relationships are about communication, anyway.”

“Fine, I’ll do it if you’ll get off my butt.”

“Good.”

He looked at your sleeping form and smiled seeing how peaceful you looked. He would never say it in front of Donna, but he wanted to thank you for saving his life that day. Without you… Miranda would have gotten rid of him long ago.

Shortly after Donna left to make breakfast, you woke up.

“Mmph… Karl, you came inside. Good. How long have I been asleep?” You asked, rubbing your eyes.

“Hm, ‘bout an hour or so. Listen, I, uh…” he trailed off, not quite certain about what he wanted to say.

You leaned on his shoulder. “Take your time, honey. Donna said this day was difficult for you.”

“… yeah.” He took your hand, running his thumb over yours.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Karl, but I’m here for you.”

“Thank you, buttercup.”

You both were silent, until he worked up the courage to say what he had to.

“I was five. I lived with my mother and father in the village, and everything was fine until I was selected to be a candidate by Miranda.”

You nodded.

“My mother… I got my fighting spirit from her. She fought Miranda tooth and nail to keep me from going.” He closed his eyes. “I can still remember the sound her head made when Miranda bashed it into the floor… and just like that, I was the new head of Heisenberg house and Miranda’s new protege.”

Even though he hadn’t said much about what happened, the pain in his words pierced your very soul.

“Karl…” you said after a moment of silence. “I’m sorry.”

He leaned his head on top of yours, blinking away tears. “You never told me how you manage to always break through my walls… I’ve never been able to tell that to anyone.”

“Because I love you, Karl Heisenberg.”

“Heh. That’s cliche… I love you too, buttercup.”

You gave his hand a squeeze.

“Did you see them? When we were in the mold?”

“No. I didn’t. Their essence was probably used a while ago.”

“Then they’re at peace. You’ve avenged them, then.”

He paused. “I guess I have.” He shifted, leaning more heavily on you.

“Here.” You adjusted so his head was on your lap. “Get some sleep, love. You’ll feel better when you wake up. I’ll be here in case of nightmares.”

“… you know about those?” He asked, rather sheepishly.

“Yes. I’ve always known.” You draped a blanket over his shoulders.

“Mm…” he grumbled.

“Sleep well, Karl.” You pressed a kiss to his head.

He closed his eyes, drifting off into the best sleep he’d had in decades.

//Author’s note— I didn’t gave time to edit before I had to post. Dm me if there are any spelling/grammar issues!!! :3

Taglist: @xyinparadise @baphometwolf666 @lost-mother@arlotg @lazuli-leenabride @goddessofwaifus Please send me a message or drop a comment if you would like to be tagged!

#karl heisenberg x female reader #karl heisenberg x y/n #karl heisenberg x you #karl heisenburg #karlheisenberg #karl heisenburg x reader #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg #Karl Heisenberg #Heisenberg #heisenberg #reader insert #resident evil #resident evil viii #resident evil 8 village #resident evil 8 #resident evil village

44 notes · View notes

lazysimp · 3 years

Note

may we get some more moments of bull bakugo and cow y/n plz? 🤲

A/N: Sure anon, I hate to say it but I like this AU more than should. These are the features I imagined Bakugou/reader has.

Warnings/tags: cow girl, animal hybrid fic, oral sex, vaginal sex, Fem reader, 18+ MDNI