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luveline · 11 months

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SPOILERS FROM SPIDER-MAN ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE BELOW

please don’t read any further if you are avoiding spoilers for satsv

I hope it’s okay that I took this for a request anon! this is a follow up to The Wishing Tree so you’re welcome to read that beforehand if you want to, but otherwise I think if you’ve seen the movie you’ll hopefully understand what’s happening anyhow. miguel x fem!reader

Miguel's been different lately. Ever since the night he got mugged, he's changed. There's something he's not telling you. You wonder if you should ask him about it, but guiltily, shamefully, you don't want to. You don't want this to stop.

Because all of a sudden it's like he's in love with you again. You're being cruel to him, you worry, in thinking he didn't love you before. Of course he did. Just getting married, having a child together, it’s changed you both so much over the years, it's only natural that the honeymoon affection faded. Natural, and yet you'd been missing it. You didn't realise how much until now.

Miguel gets home from work now and he's tentatively sweet. Before, he'd get home, sighing from how tired he felt, overlooked and overworked at Alchemex, and there'd be little energy left in him for more than a kiss on the cheek and a shoulder squeeze. You missed him and you were glad to have him home, but you wanted more from him that you felt you couldn't ask for.

These days you're waiting by the door and pretending you aren't. You'd be embarrassed if he found out. Maybe he knows; there's no reason for you to be sitting on the stairs with a half full laundry basket in hand, but there you are, your heart racing with an almost teenage-like excitement.

"Hey," Miguel says, smiling as he brushes through the door. "Are you okay? Why are you sitting there?" He waves his hand at you ineffectually as he takes off his coat, hanging it on the rack.

"Just got tired," you lie, slightly breathless at the sight of his smile.

He really looks like he adores you. All the time. It's making you weird, but how are you supposed to react? You'd never slander him to anyone, but it had been so disappointing to wait for him and get brushed off night after night. You know he was tired. You know he was doing it for you, for Gabriella. But you can't help feeling the difference.

"You sure?" he asks, tucking his bag into the hutch.

You nod.

He nods back, murmuring, "Okay," as he leans down to kiss you. On the lips, and not the cheek.

He takes the laundry basket from your lap quicker than you realise. You can't stop him in time as he steps around you on the stairs and races up them to the bathroom where the washing machine resides. Your heart jumps into your throat —he'll see the full load and he'll know you were sitting there with the basket for no reason at all. You'd wanted to look busy, and now you'll look like a fool.

You follow him slowly, not wanting to see. Miguel loves you, but he's always said you need affection more than the average person. Not once had he implied that you should feel bad about that, but you had anyhow. What if he thinks you're being childish, wanting to see him?

He puts the basket next to the washing machine, barely looking at it. "No more chores," he says, grinning at you. "You do too much."

You blink. "You think so?"

"Do I think so?" he asks, with a fond incredulity. "You're always doing something. Washing, cleaning, cooking. All you have to do tonight is sit down. Can you do that?"

"You don't have to tell me twice," you say.

Maybe this will wear off. Someone held a gun to his chest and it unsettled him, knowing how close he was to dying. He's feeling grateful for a second chance, and it's manifesting in all this extra care and adoring. In another month, he'll settle down. Still your husband, still an angel, but not so touchy.

Or maybe he'll stay like this. It's been three weeks now and he shows no signs of stopping, if anything he's getting more and more affectionate every day. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders from behind last night while he was sitting at the kitchen table, expecting him to kiss your cheek and gently nudge you away, but he'd covered your arms and held them, kissing a tender line from the crook of your arm to your shoulder. When he spoke it was with a warm, almost husky cadence. Hello, you.

He's staring at you. "What are you thinking about?" he asks.

"Nothing." He raises his eyebrows at you. "Nothing, just wondering what to make for dinner," you say.

His hand finds your wrist, pulling you toward him. "What don't you understand about sitting down? I can make dinner."

"You've worked all day," you protest.

"What have you been doing?" Miguel pulls your hand to his chest. "What, am I a bad cook?"

"I'm always asking you to cook," you say.

Miguel kisses your knuckles where they rest against his collar, rubbing them with enough tenderness to have you reeling. He must see something in your face, because the lovey-dovey softness in his own expression melds to hesitation.

"Is something wrong?" he asks.

When he looks at you like that, you can't lie to him. "No. It's not that something is wrong, exactly, but… you're being so nice to me."

Distress or something similar flashes in his eyes, so quickly you think you might have imagined it.

"I'm not usually like this," he says carefully.

You're expecting him to be offended by what you aren't saying. You've had similar fights before. I don't have time for this, cariño.

You shake your head vehemently before he can get the wrong idea, but he isn't mad. His hands are soft as he grasps your shoulders, his thumbs rubbing quarter circles as soon as they touch down. Your surprise is obvious.

"Do you wish I was nicer?" he asks.

"You're plenty nice, my love, really. That's not what I meant."

"No, but humour me."

You grab his elbow. "It's not about being nicer. I just… I know I can be a bit much for you, and I know what happened was scary and confusing, and now you're back safe, you– you don't have to do all of this. Not if you don't want to."

He's classically handsome and has been since the day you met, but there's something to be said about how love changes his features. How affection for you softens his strong jaw, his thick eyebrows inching up his forehead just so.

"I don't want you to be nicer," you say quietly, looking down at his chest. "But this has been nice. I finally feel like–"

You stop short as Miguel takes your face into his hand. His thumb along your jaw, he tilts your head up straight.

"What?"

"I was worried maybe I was getting to be too much for you," you say. "But not lately. I'm sorry."

The look he gives you is peculiar. He looks sorry, which is both unexpected and not, and he looks glad. Like you've told him something he wants to hear.

Light from the frosted bathroom window catches his eyes, has brown turning to liquid honey, his lashes a neat hedging that grows fainter in the sun. They lower as his gaze falls to your mouth.

"Can I…" he trails off.

He shakes his head gently and leans in, pausing a half a centimetre from your lips. You lean in to meet him.

He kisses you as though there's nowhere in the world he needs to be besides here. He's been so many things since he got home that day, hesitant and hungry, undecided and undulating in his touches. Even late at night, with a hand on his abdomen and your face hovering over his, it was almost like your enthusiasm surprised him.

And now he's realised that you're surprised in turn.

"If I ever gave you the impression," he says, breaking the kiss suddenly like he can't not say what he's thinking, "if you ever for a moment thought that I didn't want too much, I'm sorry. I was an idiot."

"It's not like that," you insist.

"I've been different, I know that. Tell me if it's good or bad different."

You wrap your arms around his neck, on tiptoes to hug him properly. He leans down again, taking the bulk of your weight in his arms like it's easy. Your heels lift off of the tile.

"Good different," you mumble into his shoulder.

"Was that so hard?" he asks.

His playfulness rears. You try to get out of his arms before he can start, but his hands dive for your sides. His tickling makes you laugh so loudly that Gabriella abandons the TV in her room and demands to be tickled too.

—-

thank you for reading and sorry the formatting on this post is ugly but there’s no way for me to put a spoiler warning before an ask so I thought it was best to screenshot the ask and put it underneath one myself!

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gojolatte · 2 months

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❥ Wan' You So Bad

» RATING › 18+ [M I N O R S D O N O T I N T E R A C T] » GENRE(S) › smut » PAIRING(S) › choso x f!reader » WORD(S) › 580 » SYNOPSIS › choso wants you however he can have you. » SMUT WARNING(S) › feral!choso, penetration, light mention of squirting, clit play, praise!kink choso, pet names (sugar), domestic » POST DATE › 03/05/2024

thank you for reading! & remember: you nice, keep going.❤️ › masterlist ‹

I love the thought of Choso being so feral for you once the two of you make it official (and even a little bit before then). It's such an adorable thing. You could be washing dishes and he will just walk up to you and give you a back huge while kissing down your neck. Laundry? On more than one occasion, he has had you bent over the dryer while moaning about how you can’t get things done. You have to review your student assignments? That’s fine! He doesn’t mind. Especially when he can slip your panties to the side (or even better) when you don’t have any on because of your sexcapades the night before.

“You feel so good…” He would whine in your ear, leaning against your body to have enough room to maneuver you like he wants. “I don’t want anyone else.”

You chuckle, feeling him lay against your back. His body heat works in overdrive as you reach back to caress his face.

“Me neither, baby.” You twist your face the moment he leans forward to capture your lips as he moans into them. You nip at his bottom lip as he releases a soft gasp, his hands tightening against your hip. “You’re all I want.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, sweetheart.” You smile softly the moment he growls, the speed at which his hips pound against you increases and you can’t do much but take what he’s giving you. You groan when he hits that spot, making your leg shake and your toes curl. “Fuck, Choso,” You sigh in contentment feeling the hot pressure building in your stomach. You're so damn close but before you can cum, he spins you around to face him.

“I wanna see your face when you cum all over me.”

It’s a simple request. One that has you throwing your arms around Choso’s neck for leverage.

“Then make me cum, Sugar.”

He groans, picking up his pace once more when he’s got you settled in a position that will help you cum faster. As much as he loves your arms wrapped around him, he moves them in favor of wrapping his arms around your legs. He tosses them over his forearms and bends them back as he's able to get an unforgettable view of how your pussy swallows his cock whole. He licks his lips, thrusting forward in a manner that has your head falling backward and your moans growing in octaves.

“I’m so fucking close.” You tell him as he leans forward to leave kisses along your lips, jaw and any other place he feels needs his love. It makes you giggle in return and fucking hell, he loves the sounds you make for him. “Ah, y-yes... A little to the right, baby.”

He's quick to follow your directions and as soon as he pulls back to thrust forward again, you’re seeing stars. Your moans are much louder, your grip is tighter and he can feel the way your pussy is begging for him to keep going. Pulsing around him and squeezing him tighter as your nails dig into the bed.

He reaches his hand between the two of you to rub your clit a bit faster as your body stills, head thrown back as far as you can go and you begin to shake. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and for a second, Choso is confused because why did it get so much wetter?

“H-Holy shit."

A/N ➳ Tell me what you think! I absolutely love Choso ever since he was introduced and well yeah! I hope you like it! xoxo © GOJOLATTE 2024 ➳ ALL RIGHTS RESERVED PLEASE DO NOT Copy, Translate, ReUpload, or Steal ANY of my work. Thank You, Beautiful People!

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu choso #choso x reader #choso x you #choso smut #jjk men x you #jjk men x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk choso #kamo choso #choso my beloved #jujutsu kaisen choso #gojolatte

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vixstarria · 4 months

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Mark me as yours

This takes place immediately after and is interlinked with 'Missionary with the lights off' but from Astarion's rather than Tav's POV - check it out if you haven't already, the fics complement each other.

Soft sassy Astarion, F!Tav, Gale, minor appearances by other origin characters, Astarion POV

Fluff, humour, banter, pining, non-explicit sexual references

A day in camp in the life of Astarion. Features brooding, sewing, doing laundry, being dramatic, engaging in improper use of archmage of Waterdeep, reading erotica, and more!

Approx. 2,000 words

You frowned at the stuffed bear you held in your hands, weighing up your desire to showcase your skills against the absurdity of the task at hand.

The whole thing was coming apart and needed to be washed and restuffed if you were to do this properly. What was inside, anyway? Fur..? You supposed you could go hunt something furry. Or maybe save yourself the time and just give Scratch a quick partial shave, he wouldn’t mind – the mutt lying at your feet was stupid enough to like you. To prefer you over anyone else, in fact.

You reached down to give him a fond, absentminded pet.

And then there was the matter of not letting it burn to a crisp the moment Karlach touched it.

“Is there a flame ward enchantment on this..? Can you reapply it?” you asked Gale, who was nearby at his usual spot by the fire, concocting something edible for the rest of your group.

“There is and I sure can,” he replied.

Great. You had gotten yourself into a group project with the wizard to rescue a teddy bear.

“Don’t tell me this is what Wyll was so concerned about earlier...” Tav had finally made it out of your tent and sat down next to you, looking somewhat less disheveled than how you’d left her.

“The bag of holding finally tore. Naturally I was the only one competent enough to fix it.”

You gestured with your thumb towards a towering pile of assorted crap that Wyll and Lae’zel were still sifting through: Lae’zel inspecting and setting aside any weapons and armour she deemed worth keeping, and Wyll sorting through an array of scrolls and potions no one was ever going to use, or would forget were in your possession if the need for them ever did arise.

“Darling, this is your fault, you know,” you added. “Must you pick up everything?”

“Karlach made me do it. Also I don’t know what you’re talking about, I am prudence and sensibility personified,” she said.

“You’re uh... You’re also bleeding,” Gale said, pointing at her neck.

A trail of blood had started running down from the puncture wounds, which must have reopened.

Shit.

Before you could reason yourself out of it, your instincts kicked in and you pressed your mouth against her neck, licking the blood off. By the gods, she actually leaned into you as you did that, not away. You glimpsed a guilty, sheepish smile she threw at Gale, as you pulled away.

“Idiot... Here, apply pressure, I’ll get the amulet,” you said.

“I’m the idiot?! You’re the one who ran off to resolve a sewing emergency, like a good little seamstress, before sorting me out!”

You strode over to your tent, in part to grab the amulet of Silvanus, in part to discreetly tuck away the erection that had immediately started developing as soon as you tasted her blood.

Hells, am I 239 or 15? you thought, annoyed with yourself.

“An amulet? I was wondering why you’d stopped visiting me in the mornings...” you heard from Shadowheart.

“We have a system,” Tav replied.

“Clearly,” laughed Shadowheart.

A scene from the night sprung up in your mind as you went about your day:

She’d fallen asleep on your shoulder, half lying on you, her nose buried in your neck.

It was... nice. Really nice. And you didn’t think this bizarre scenario would ever happen again.

And yet, pleasant as it was, she still felt too far. You needed to feel her closer. Perhaps you were being greedy, but after all these years, why should you get anything less than exactly what you wanted?

Carefully, very carefully lest she stir awake and leave, you rolled over onto your side, holding her against you.

She was still asleep. Good...

You cautiously slipped lower and lower until your head was at her chest, delicately wrapping your arms around her torso.

Then she stirred.

Shit.

Without waking, she sighed, drawing you into a tight embrace, clutching you against her chest, complete with throwing a leg over your hips to pull you even closer.

You finally relaxed, your arms wrapped around her waist.

Perfect...

She felt so warm... She smelled of comfort.

You could indulge in this for the night. You would wake up before she did anyway.

You drifted away, lulled by the beating of her heart.

You didn’t have any nightmares that night.

“Is your boyfriend coming?” you heard Karlach somewhere in the distance.

You cringed at the juvenile term. Still, you were curious how she would answer.

“He’s on laundry duty,” she responded. “Just us gals today.”

“So your idea of doing washing is to pawn everything off to me,” said Gale.

“Vampires and running water, remember,” you said. “Also you don’t look like you’re exerting an awfully large amount of effort yourself... Although I must admit, this is ingenious.” A little flattery wouldn’t hurt.

Gale sat at a riverbank at a deeper section of the river. Some sheets and clothing were being tossed and spun in a small bubbling whirlpool within the water, together with foaming slivers of soap.

“Surely few archmages possess such finesse and creativity?” you continued.

Gale sighed and motioned for you to throw your bundle in as well, expanding the whirlpool.

“Just toss your shirt in too, it's splattered with blood,” Gale added wearily.

Her scent lingered on it. The last thing you wanted was to wash it off.

You pulled the shirt over your head and hurled it into the whirlpool.

“Not Tav’s creative nailwork, I presume..?” Gale asked with a wince, looking at your back.

“Nope” was all you said, as you pulled a book out from your pocket, making yourself comfortable on the bank. To his credit, the wizard did not probe further.

‘Mark me as yours’

Those words had been echoing in your mind over and over all day.

It couldn’t have meant anything.

A little expression of some vampire fetishism finally poking through – you shouldn’t have expected any different from her, she did offer you her blood consistently, not even asking for anything in return.

Still, you’d felt like something inside you might burst from your desire and thrill when you heard those words.

And then everything that followed after...

You had actually lost yourself for a short while. Not dissociated and detached. Lost yourself. In bliss. In the scent of her skin, in the sounds of her need for you, in the sensation of her blood merging with yours and flowing through your veins.

And now she was walking around somewhere, with telltale bitemarks on her neck for all the world to see. Scandalous...

No, it couldn’t have meant anything.

‘Mark me as yours’

Still... What a pleasant little fantasy...

‘Yours’

“You’ve been smiling at that page for ten minutes straight now,” Gale’s voice snapped you out of your musings.

“It’s my favourite page,” you retorted.

“What’s it about?” he asked snidely after a short pause.

“I have no idea,” you confessed, begrudgingly, snapping the book shut. If the wizard knew what was best for him, he would abstain from any further comments.

“She’s quite fond of you,” Gale said sombrely after another pause.

“Is this about to turn into one of those ‘You break her heart – I'll break your face’ talks?” you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“Oh gods no,” Gale laughed. "No, I would go straight to incineration... You just strike me as the type that needs to have the obvious spelled out for them.”

“I am not entering this type of discourse with someone who’s presently washing my spend off my bed sheets,” you said, laying back and shutting your eyes, to bask in the sun. No answer followed.

Not even a minute had passed when a shadow fell over you.

Odd, you thought. There hadn’t been a single cloud in the sky.

You opened your eyes to see a giant water bubble hovering a few meters above you. Was that... a bedsheet floating in the middle..?

Worth it, you thought just as the undulating bubble spilt and crashed over you.

You coughed and spat, trying to untangle yourself from the sheet, as the unleashed torrent nearly swept you off the bank. And yet, above all else, you found yourself curious.

The water had no longer been running as part of the river, true, but given its sheer volume and the velocity at which it hit you, it should have hurt more than merely your pride.

You made it to the edge of the bank, and cautiously dipped a finger in.

Nothing...

You proceeded to submerge your hand, then your entire forearm, to your elbow.

Nothing.

Of all things... Why this? Why not your reflection? Why not the blood craving? Oh well. Beggars, choosers...

You were laughing.

“This tadpole,” you turned and shouted at Gale, unabashedly stripping yourself of your pants, as Gale turned away, muttering something about going blind, “is the best thing that’s happened to me in centuries!”

The best? Maybe second best? It had some tight competition, but you supposed nothing would have been possible without it, so it reigned supreme.

You leaped into the river, diving and letting the gentle current carry you downstream for a while.

You knew what you would be doing later that evening with her.

“What have you got there?”

She slid onto your lap like a cat that refused to take ‘no’ for an answer as it sought attention. You had been idling away your time by your tent, with some pulp you had picked up earlier. The rest of the group had been drinking and roasting something at the campfire.

“Trash. Disappointingly boring trash, this time,” you answered.

“No pulsating flesh tunnels in this one?”

“Alas... There were not one but two mentions of ‘velvet-wrapped steel’ however, and plenty of ‘sword-sheathing’.”

“To the hilt?”

“Is there any other way?”

“Wouldn’t want to sheathe it only partially, I suppose...” she mused. “Come join us. We found some half-decent wine. And you don’t have to be alone all the time, you know.”

“Spare me, I’ve had enough of Gale’s lectures and Wyll’s tales for the day. And besides, ugh, all those chewing noises!” You made a gagging sound.

None of them want me there.

“Oh don’t be such a delicate princess,” she rolled her eyes. “How’s this: it’s our joint meal time. It would be rude and completely unfair to exclude anyone. You should sit down with everyone, bite down on my wrist and make a great deal of slurping.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Delightful. Simply delightful.

“It will be funny!”

“I fear you might be the only one laughing, darling.”

That is hilarious, I can just imagine Gale squealing or getting sick.

“Is there anyone else you’d care to make laugh?” she asked with a slight upturn of her lips.

Not in the least.

“I could die again knowing I have accomplished something if I ever make Lae’zel laugh. But perish the thought – I am perfectly happy right here with my literature.”

“Well, if you don’t want to join the group, perhaps I will stay and you can...” She snatched the book from your hands and tossed it aside, leaning in and bringing her lips up to your ear. “...Release your kraken in my field of rose petals,” she purred in a sultry voice.

“Stop,” you choked back a snicker.

“Get tangled up in my beef curtains?” she continued with the same tone.

“You’re disgusting.”

“Sink your meat shaft in my cream tart!” she persevered.

“By the gods, woman, I am never having sex with your again.”

“Suckle the nectar from my weeping core!”

“Alright, fine, I’ll go, anything is better than this.” You got up, pushing her off your lap.

“Taste my forbidden, oozing fruit, Astarion!” she cried out from the ground behind you as you covered your ears and shouted “LALALALA”, making your way towards the campfire.

You would endure the prattle of your companions.

Then you would take her for a moonlit swim in the river.

Then you would see if she might spend the whole night in your arms again.

Perhaps she could sleep in your shirt and leave her scent on it again – it was foolish to sleep completely in the nude out in the wild after all, what if there were intruders?

Everything was going according to plan, you reminded yourself.

~~~~~

Next in series - Down by the river

Series master list

AO3

Tags: @littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny

Also @spacebarbarianweird - you haven't asked for a tag but sounded interested

#astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfiction #astarion x tav #astarion romance #astarion x reader #astarion POV #gale dekarios #bloodweave more like beefwave #archmage of waterdeep as a washing machine #the narrator may be somewhat unreliable #reflections on author's own inventory management

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 9 months

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You know, all I want is to spend some time with Nikto on his off-days and have him read Dostoyevski to me, if you don't want to make this like a single fic you can maybe incorporate it into "ravishing allure" some time later 🥹

"…and there can be no love otherwise."

PAIRINGS: Nikto x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: If anyone could make the bad days better, it was Nikto.

WORDCOUNT: 2.3k

WARNINGS: Stress from work/life, lack of sleep, mostly fluff, comfort, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

There were times you wondered if putting up with your job was really worth it. Sure, you needed the money to pay rent, food, and bills, among a laundry list of others that just seemed to never end, but was the cost of your sleep the metaphorical soul you had to hand over?

Every day you came home tired to your little apartment—neighbors loud and the light in the bathroom flickering because the electrician had never shown up to fix it. Tired, but unable to fall asleep until everything else was done. So, you’d make dinner, clean, shower, sit down to mindlessly watch a show on TV for half an hour, and then stumble into bed.

Only to stay awake and stare at the ceiling.

You can’t say why you do it, thinking over the things you did wrong and the awkward conversations you have with coworkers; you shouldn’t care about it—really, you shouldn't. Yet you can’t stop your brain from slipping like a slide to every instance, every millisecond where you felt the air of the interaction change. Side-eyes and confused looks.

And then at six o’clock, you’d drag yourself out of bed with bags on your face and a drained expression to do it all over again.

“Hi, how can I help you today?”

“Oh, of course, we have some in the back—I’ll go grab it for you.”

“Thank you! You have a good day now, Sir. Come back soon.”

It just felt fake. Greet, help, take money, wave and smile, repeat, repeat, repeat. But maybe today would be slightly different, by the second pair of shoes that were placed in your apartment entry as you slowly opened the front door.

Boots—black and set an equal distance apart with a cleaned surface despite the places they’d been and what they’d probably stepped through. They were neatly situated under the small bench you had for convenience, and you blink at them as you softly shut the door and lock it. A large, and matching in color, jacket was folded and placed atop the flat surface—keys sitting in an indent.

Nikto, ever the neat and tidy one. He must be back then.

While the two of you didn’t live together, the bear of a man had made a habit of coming over when he returned from deployments with KorTac—you’d given him a key the second year you’d been together.

Your ears faintly twitch to the sound of cooking, nose moving just a second later to the scent of something on the stove. Clinking pans and silent footsteps. He knew you were here, sure as anything. Weakly sighing, you shift out of your jacket and shoes; tossing them in the general direction of the bench as you rub at your eyes and drop your purse to the floor with a slap of canvas.

How do you explain looking like shit?

Shuffling into the kitchen, you undo some of the buttons on your blouse to let yourself breathe, dress pants running along the carpet as your feet pad like a hound’s slapping paws. Vision blurry and eyelids threatening to close on you, you find the tall man in front of the stove, moving something in a pan with sizzling oils with the wide flex of his shoulders.

On another burner, there’s a large pot of simmering water—the counter has already been cleaned up of flour and mess, a tidy pile of dirty items sitting in the sink to be washed. You stare for a second before you grumble a hello, forcing your body to sag into his back as you walk over and slap your forehead into his spine.

Nikto grunts lowly in response and continues what he’s doing.

While it wasn’t rare to find him in the kitchen—in fact, you prefer it when he cooks—but usually when he got back you opted to order supper. He always insisted, gruffly, that he wasn’t tired, but you just wanted him to relax.

It was fun to baby him.

“Didn’t know you were going to be back today,” you whisper into him, arms hanging by your sides.

“We were released early,” his voice is deep and harsh—a bark of his Russian accent and rasp. Every word is thought out and said with purpose. “Conflict in schedule.”

You hum lowly, and it’s immediately after that Nikto stiffens, back going straighter. It’s the fact that you don’t even notice that you’ve completely screwed up your own routine that tips him off; how your change in pace had made him initially suspicious as he’d heard you enter the apartment.

You hadn't commented on his eyes. Hadn’t tried to get him to turn around to see them.

There was a running gag that Nikto tolerated—you’d grab him carefully by the chin and tilt his blank eyes to you in all of their icy glory. Sparks of glass and chilled storms inlay near the pupils. You’d stare, smile, and then say, “Yup, he’s still in there.”

Even if you couldn’t see it under his balaclava, Nikto’s lips would part and he’d study your face for a minute in silence, before lightly bonking his forehead to yours. A strange and unique kiss that only he could perfect in his intimidating way.

You hadn’t even attempted that.

Nikto puts down the fork he was using to push around the fried potatoes and mushrooms; Pelmeni still simmering in the pot for another five minutes. The cut-up dill and melted butter on the counter are pushed from his mind with a purpose in his veins.

“What is wrong with you?” Nikto turns and you stifle a fatigued snort as you look up at him. It wasn’t his fault, of course. English isn’t his first language, and you found his broken, or sometimes bare-bones blunt, sentences to be endearing.

“Such a way with words, hm?” You can’t help but tease, and you can see the annoyed furrow of his brown brows, nose huffing a breath. “Just tired, Nikto.” Your words make his gaze slide along the very visible bags and the red veins of your eyes.

He mutters something in Russian under his breath, lids narrowing on you as he grasps your shoulders and moves you back so he can look you up and down slowly in a near clinical breakdown of atoms. As if he can peel back clothes and splay nerves to light.

“You look horrible…Sickly.” You can see the brain working as your lips go into a line to stay off your loud laugh. “Like dead woman walking.”

He was so much better with actions than words, this beast of wide shoulders and shifting thighs that could crush your bones to dust in an instant. You liked that about him—you never had to guess when he was being genuine or not.

“Work’s been rough,” you chuckle lowly, sliding on a fake smile that doesn’t fool him for a second. “Nothing I can’t…figure out, okay? Thanks for making supper, I love when you cook.”

Nikto’s eyes soften just a smidge, his hands holding your flesh just the littlest bit tighter. His expansive chest rises and falls in a heavy sigh, the bulk of his stomach and pecs visible under the tucked black t-shirt and his spare cargo pants.

Without a word, you’re being lifted with little more than a huff of, “моя нежная девочка… keep awake.”

You squeak as you’re settled onto his shoulder, hanging off like a sack of grain as his arm wraps over the top of your tailbone—large other hand on your thigh and fingers firmly grasping your skin.

“Nikto—!”

“Hush,” he grunts, a bark of a chuckle wafting out as your hand playfully hits his back with a pathetic slap. The man raises a brow, smirking under his face covering. “What do you expect to do with that, girl?”

“To let you know,” you poke at his spine and he shifts your farther down his shoulder in retaliation as you scramble and grasp at his shirt; giggling as your head sways to his steps. “That I won't go quietly!”

“Good to know,” he grumbles. “I would want nothing less, eh?”

His hands make sure that you don’t fall, even if you were to start wiggling or slipping.

You go limp and let him carry you into the living room, face burning with appreciation as your limbs let themselves rest. Nikto slings you back over his shoulder and drops you to the couch as you laugh, head purposely hitting the pillow as your chest rises and falls with breaths.

The man stares down at you as you chuckle in gasps, always one to stare at any chance he gets. His arms crossed at his chest, feet apart, and shadow slipping over you from the overhead light. You gaze up silently, a smile on your lips, and quizzically raise to your brow.

“Stay,” is what he says to you, icy vision sliding down your body with a hum of approval. He sends a teasing slap to your thigh before striding back into the kitchen, narrowly missing your leg kicking out at his arse.

Nikto scoffs at your attempt and disappears.

Normally you’d run at him and jump on his back, hanging off like an animal, but being as fatigued as you are, you call a mumbled curse at his name and curl sideways. Your face nuzzles into the pillow, smiling lightly before you let your eyes momentarily close.

You must have taken a quick nap because it seemed not even a second later that you were being shaken awake by a hand on your arm; spreading up to run over your cheek as your lashes flutter. “Милая.” You sigh, vision blurry and your head pounding. A strong scent hits your nose and you perk—rubbing at your eyes and face. “Eat.”

A plate of fried potatoes with mushrooms and another bowl of Pelmeni are on the coffee table, and the former is shoved into your face by a strong hand, the small dumplings topped with melted butter and dill.

“Pelmeni,” Nikto states in a monotone, blinking at you as if you don’t know his own culture’s food by now. He made them often enough, which was why you liked him so much—food was truly the way to your love.

You’d taken up baking some of Nikto’s favorite desserts once, had failed horribly, and left most of the kitchen work to him—but the funny thing was that whenever you did bake, the man still always cleaned his plate. You’d never seen him turn down your food, even when you could see his eyes scrunch with restrained aversion.

“Да,” he would grunt out, “good.” It was so strained you always laughed so hard your lungs hurt after. On the off-hand, Nikto’s skills in the kitchen were enough to get you to sell your car for just another bite.

Sitting up, you carefully take the bowl and look up at him, smiling deeply.

“Thank you, Nik.” The man hums and turns his head away, still unused to outright affection even two years in. “Nikto~” you draw out his name, tilting your head to the side and trying to catch his gaze again.

“Silence, woman,” he growls with no real heat, huffing before carefully placing his forehead to yours again as you expected him to. You giggle and stare into his eyes smugly.

You knew what he was waiting for. Your blood runs hot, face going into a picture of care. His blues blink at you as snowflakes mingle with mist; a mix of cold and desolate landscapes that offer no reprieve from harm besides the small glint of fire they gain when they lock with yours.

“Yup,” you whisper, and Nikto’s shoulders loosen as he presses more deeply into your skin. “He’s still in there.”

He stares intensely, and the faintest of twitches under his balaclava tell you all you need to know.

Nikto makes sure you eat your fill and when you’re done he takes the dishes and washes them while you shower and get into pajamas. Sluggish, but warmed by a full stomach and your boyfriend’s care. You come out to find he’s already reclining on the couch, book in hand as the other bends behind his neck. Lights were low and the heat turned up. Nikto opens his side to you and your body snuggles next to him—it had taken a long time to earn his trust like this; to be near him and to freely give affection.

It would be longer still until you saw his face, but you can live with that. There was no rush, and you knew it was a large soft spot even if he’d never shared the details as to why.

You sigh deeply and Nikto grunts, moving his arm behind your back and keeping you to his chest as he reads.

This is a common sight from him, and he begins reading to you in his mother tongue from the works of Fyodor Dostoevsky, the grit and gravel of his voice sliding into words and sensations as you practically feel it coming from his chest and throat. Your head situates itself under his chin, feeling his free hand playing with your hair until you go brain-dead except to the way he feels and sounds. Harsh words had never been more gentle.

Halfway through he switches to English, his sentences now more slow and thought out and your lashes flutter; breath soft as you take in his scent of oakmoss and amber. His heart beats steady and true.

“‘To love is to suffer,’” he reads, fingers rubbing circles into your clothes and letting you sleep as the day grows faster into a cold night. He glances down with easy eyes, gripping you just a bit closer as your body entirely goes limp in his embrace. “‘...And there can be no love otherwise.’”

He silences himself and watches for a moment before he closes the book, dropping it silently to the coffee table and staring past you at the ceiling. The man feels your warmth bleed into his scarred and damaged skin and whispers something akin to vindication.

Nikto listens to your steady breathing and holds you. Steady. Noiseless.

He grunts to himself and only presses you closer.

TAGS:

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purple-babygirl · 14 days

Text

in the far corner of the forest III

Pairing: Orc!Bucky Barnes x human!f!reader

Word Count: 6,540

Summary: For the longest time, the kingdom has used Bucky as their number one fighter, forcing him to win their wars for them. The only thing he asked for in return after he was done was that they give him a wife, and they did. They handed him the orphan he picked on a silver platter; it wasn't like anyone would miss her. It would've been perfect if she actually wanted to be there though.

Warnings: hand injury, mentions of blood, wound sutures/stitches, angry behaviour, jealousy, fighting, crying, racism against orcs. I think that's all.

A/N: this is the longest part yet because it might take me a while with part 4 depending on how the very important interview i have on the 17th goes. please send me good wishes on the stars if possible i would really appreciate it. And please enjoy this one and let me know what you thought if you can xx💜💜

“I got you something, little human,” Bucky said, his tone softer than it was that same afternoon as he scratched the back of his head.

He was new to courting, and it wasn’t exactly normal that he was courting his already-wife. Still, he was doing everything possible.

Bucky’s life has all been about fighting and wars. He didn’t do love or courtship. He didn’t do coddling or romancing. But there was a first time for everything and he was trying his best.

“Thank you,” she replied without looking up, pretending to be focused on folding laundry.

She was ignoring him.

Bucky had let his voice get loud a couple of hours ago after he had found her lost in the forest again. Only this time her foot was already messed up and she needed the rest, but she wouldn’t listen.

It hurt him how much pain she was willing to go through if it meant she could get away from him, but he wouldn’t let it show.

Instead, he yelled in frustration as he brought her back to their cottage.

She seemed like she wouldn’t quit, and so he wasn’t going to quit either.

Despite her constant rejection, Bucky refused to give up, his determination fueled by a newfound sense of purpose. He was willing to endure anything, face anything, if it meant earning even a glimmer of acceptance, or even affection, from her.

“You didn’t even see what I got you,” Bucky tried again, hoping she would at least look at him.

When she did, he gave a tiny smile and walked to the cottage door, bringing something inside.

“Here.” He dragged in a shiny wooden chair and placed it before his on their small dining table.

“You bought me a chair,” she said, pretending to be uninterested to hide the warmth that just spread throughout her heart.

“I made you a chair,” Bucky corrected, proudly palming the smooth wood, swiping his tongue over his tusks.

Bucky knew gifts were an essential part of courting and he didn’t like how she had to eat on the bed while he ate alone on the dining table because he only owned one chair.

He knew his days as a loner were long gone and it made his heart swell that he had her to share his house and life with now.

So he got to work and decided to make her her own chair out of an old oak tree. Being a lumberjack who had a woodworking shop had its perks after all.

It was going to be a weekend surprise, but he thought now was better timing after the fight they just had.

“You— you made this? From scratch?” She stood up in surprise, laundry forgotten for now.

“Yes.”

“For me?” She asked, not able to hide her emotions at the kind gesture anymore.

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckled, taking a step back so she could examine the chair.

She sat down and a big smile found its way on her lips when she looked up at Bucky. The chair was comfy and new and hers.

No one has ever gotten her anything, let alone made her something so beautiful. It was so special and a flood of emotions washed over her at the idea that someone had actually thought of her enough to make her a chair. That Bucky had made her a chair.

“Thank you,” she whispered, breaking eye contact so that she wouldn’t tear up.

Bucky only nodded in reply, internally celebrating the win with his heart doing backflips. She liked the chair.

She stood up and closed the small distance between her and the orc, getting on her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his cheek, “welcome home.”

She quickly put the clean laundry in its place in the closet and went to the kitchen to start dinner, leaving Bucky with the most idiotic smile on his face as he shifted back and forth on his feet like a teenager.

She was punishing him for yelling at her by not making dinner, but that chair and the effort behind it deserved a good meal.

She was cleaning up after dinner later that night when she heard Bucky moving stuff outside. She didn’t pay it much mind; it was his house after all.

“Come outside, little human,” his voice called for her and she tentatively stepped out of the kitchen.

Bucky was standing by the open cottage door, a hopeful smile on his face as he encouragingly nodded for her to come over to him.

She didn’t know what to think, but any chance not to stay cooped up inside the cottage was going to receive a yes from her.

It wasn’t like she was ungrateful. She was certainly thankful she had a roof over her head and warm walls that she could hide inside from the rain and the cold.

But again, her situation wasn’t the most ideal either. If it was up to her, she would have stayed at the orphanage with the rest of the girls because if her fate was drawn for her to be an isolated orc’s wife, she didn’t want to be married.

When she stepped outside, however, marriage and Bucky didn’t seem that bad for a second.

“I thought we could watch the stars now that the sky was clear,” Bucky explained, internally nervous that she might call him ridiculous and refuse to sit with him.

He had waited for a day without rain and laid out a thick blanket on the ground before their cottage, the way lit for her feet by a close by lantern he had put out.

She was enthralled, mouth open and breath stolen. Tears welled up in her eyes, a mixture of joy and disbelief engulfing her.

Bucky has even went as far as bringing out the shawl he had gotten her just in case she felt cold.

It was just like… a date.

Her heart raced and she smiled shyly at the orc, making him smile too as he watched her sit down on the blanket, holding her knees to her as she glanced up at the night sky nervously.

She has never been on a date before in her life, the town’s boys always picking other girls from the orphanage to fool around with, but never her. She was never really anyone’s type.

She slightly shook her head to shut down her insecure thoughts, knowing that none of those player town boys could have ever brought her on a date like this.

“Is the ground too cold?” Bucky asked as he draped her shawl over her shoulders.

She hugged the soft material around her body, smiling gratefully at the orc as she shook her head.

She was too shy to even speak at this point, her mind barely registering the amazingly romantic end to her day that Bucky had brought into existence.

Bucky then laid down on his back, wordlessly urging her to do the same.

She got on her back, eyes mesmerized by the sight of the stars. She has never seen so many before, her view from her room’s window at the orphanage was very limited.

It was different here in the middle of the woods because there were no town lights to take the view away from the sky and it was gorgeous.

“So beautiful,” she whispered with a smile, observing how the stars sparkled above them.

“Yes, the most beautiful,” Bucky whispered back, watching her as she watched the sky.

He wished she could one day look at him the same way she was looking at those stars; the same way he was looking at her.

In his eyes, there was a mix of determination and yearning, reflecting his unwavering commitment to win her heart despite her initial reluctance. Bucky’s gaze lingered on her, drinking in every detail as if he couldn’t believe she was really here, right next to him.

She turned her eyes to him, her shy smile widening, “thank you for this, Bucky.”

Gods, the way she said his name was something else.

“You’re welcome, sweet thing.” Bucky smiled back, turning his eyes back to the sky as to not make her uncomfortable under his stare.

As they silently continued stargazing, she felt her heart become lighter. She felt so serene, so content, and she had suddenly forgiven Bucky for raising his voice at her just hours ago, wanting nothing but for this peacefulness to last for as long as possible.

Was it imaginable for marriage to be this good? Could her life finally be turning around?

She couldn’t help but want to see Bucky in a different light in this very moment.

She knew that he was harsh sometimes, but she also knew that she wasn’t making it easy for him either.

Maybe she didn’t choose him and didn’t choose this marriage, but Bucky was trying with real effort and she wasn’t blind to it.

Bucky cared for her when she was sick. He provided for her. He brought her gifts, filled up her half of the closet for her with anything and everything she could need. And he, most importantly, apologized when he was in the wrong, which wasn’t something common for the human males of this kingdom. He also respected her boundaries and hadn’t tried touching her after their first night together.

Could this all be preparation for the purpose of bedding?

No, it couldn’t be. Bucky didn’t need to do this to get her in his bed. He had already had her there and he had willingly let her go. He could have his way with her anytime if he really wanted to.

She wanted to believe that this moment was real so bad. She wanted to believe that Bucky was trying to win her heart.

So she did.

And if Bucky was trying, she was going to start trying too.

She knew just the thing to do actually.

She was going to make Bucky strawberry jam tomorrow to show him how grateful she was.

She might have not much to offer, but she knew she made the most delicious fruit jams and marmalades. It was her specialty at the orphanage. All the other girls always managed to ruin the jams, adding too much or too little sugar, applying too much heat or not enough, eventually producing something inedible. But not her. No, that was one thing she knew with her whole heart that she was good at.

She might’ve not been the prettiest of the girls, but she deserved a good life and she was now determined to build one. With Bucky.

She wasn’t in love with him, she knew that, but she didn’t need love to have a good marriage. Respect and effort were going to be enough.

This marriage could be her chance at building a life worth living.

“Could you bring home some strawberries tomorrow?”

“Oh my gods, this is amazing!” Bucky exclaimed, sliding another spoonful of strawberry jam in his mouth.

“I’m happy you like it,” she replied proudly, a smile plastered on her timid features as she brought a basket of sliced bread to the table.

It felt so good to have someone other than the orphanage girls taste her hand’s making. Receiving Bucky’s praise felt so much different than all the compliments she’s ever received before.

It felt… way better.

“It’s really good, little human.” Bucky was too busy adding jam on the piece of bread in his hand, groaning as he slipped it into his mouth and chewed, “how much of this did you make?”

She laughed, “well, I wanted to start with a small pot because I didn’t know if you liked jam and I didn’t wanna throw out any of it, but we have enough if you finish this and want more!”

“None of this is getting thrown out, little human,” Bucky told her seriously, “I asked because I wanted to take some to Sarah. She has a sweet tooth and she would love this.”

A frown quickly replaced her smile at the mention of another female’s name. She suddenly felt like wanting to take the bowl of jam away from the orc. Hell, she felt like she wanted to get back the jam he had already ate and swallowed.

“Who’s Sarah?” She asked, trying to act nonchalant as she greased her bread with some jam.

“She’s Sam’s sister,” Bucky answered innocently, oblivious to the way she hummed with her jaw clenched.

“And who’s Sam?”

“Oh, right, you don’t know Sam. He’s my best friend; and my partner in the shop. Great guy,” Bucky told her, more interested in the jam than her reaction.

At least Sam was a male.

So just to be clear, Bucky wanted to take the jam she made to his best friend’s sister so she could have a taste and satisfy her sweet tooth? Yeah, she didn’t like that very much.

“Is she, like, married?” She wondered, trying hard not to show her anger.

“Who?” Bucky asked, chewing the bite in his mouth, the foreign question finally gaining his attention.

“Sweet tooth Sarah,” she answered with a somewhat bitter tone that Bucky has never heard before, her thumb swiping under his plump lips before she could stop herself as she harshly wiped away jam from the orc’s face.

The realization as to why her mood had suddenly turned sour made Bucky smile as he hurriedly swallowed his food, “little human,”

She looked up at him with a silent glare.

Despite her efforts to appear unaffected, there was a vulnerability in her eyes, a hint of insecurity betraying her true feelings

“Are you… jealous?”

Bucky’s amused smile made her even angrier as she watched his lips literally twitching.

Jealous? Pfft, of course not! Why would she be jealous!

“No!” She replied aloud defensively, “it was just a question.” She stood up, collecting the plates from the table without asking if Bucky was done eating.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Bucky laughed, holding onto the small bowl of jam.

“Try to save some for your Sarah,” she snapped, snatching her hand from the orc’s as she let him have the bowl.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at her surprising reaction, his widening smile still glued to his face.

She frustratingly sped to the kitchen, violently twisting the water tab open as she rolled her sleeves up and started washing the things in the sink.

She had went through all this trouble and used all of these bowls that she now had to wash just for him to want to take her jam to another female to eat.

Who did he think he was?

It was her fault for trying to do something nice in the first place.

He didn’t even answer her question, and that Sarah was probably unmarried. She was probably an orc too. Yeah, it made sense that Bucky would be attracted to someone similar to him. Those two ‘friends’ were probably part of his clan.

The clan he never introduced her to.

How naive was she to think this marriage could actually work?

Bucky was outside still smiling to himself like a fool as he finished the rest of her sweet jam.

She was jealous. She was jealous over him.

He didn’t want to upset her though, so he didn’t say anything, letting her calm down first.

He took the empty bowl to her, setting it in the sink as she avoided looking at him.

She heard him chuckle as he left the kitchen and it made her punch the sponge in her hand inside the bowl, pounding it angrily as she ‘washed’ it clean.

When she was done cleaning the kitchen and brushing her teeth, she stomped out to the bed, getting in and covering herself from head to toe as she gave Bucky her back.

Bucky walked to the lanterns and dimmed their lights before joining her in bed.

He laid on his back, innocently waiting for his good night’s kiss.

A minute passed. 2 minutes. 5 minutes. The kiss didn’t come.

“Hey,” Bucky whispered as not to startle her in the dark, “we had a deal. Where’s my kiss?” He put a hopeful hand on her shoulder, trying to twist her to face him.

“Have Sarah give you your kiss,” she replied with a deadpan tone, masking her fury as she pushed her pillow over her head, shrugging Bucky’s touch off her body.

Bucky stared at the back turned to him with an open mouth as he took his hand away and laid back, disappointment replacing his surprise and filling him up.

It was the first time since she had started feeling well again that she has refused to give him any of his kisses. Yet, respectful of her feelings, Bucky let her.

Maybe making her jealous wasn’t all that fun after all. But he didn’t even mean to make her jealous, he was just talking!

Bucky sighed, turning on his side as well as he fell asleep staring at the hidden back of her head.

The next morning as she put his breakfast on the table, she didn’t sit or eat with him, preferring to scrub the kitchen sink while Bucky ate even though she had just washed it the night before.

She didn’t give him his good morning kiss either; didn’t even speak to him.

She was still mad at him. This was serious for her, he realized.

Bucky might have found it fun last night, but today as she deliberately ignored his existence, he wanted nothing but to make her understand that what was in her head was nothing like the truth.

“Here, I packed jam for your sweet tooth Sarah,” she said harshly as she set a small jar of strawberry jam on the table before him.

“She’s not my—”

“Hope she likes it,” she cut him off, disappearing into the kitchen again.

Bucky sighed aloud, running a hand over his face as he stood up. Grabbing the jam, he took one look at the kitchen entrance before leaving the house for work with a clenched jaw.

She peeked outside when she heard the door shut to see the table empty. Bucky had taken the jar to Sarah.

Oh, that was it.

She could take being given to an orc against her will. She could take never having been chosen or given the chance to choose. She could take not being loved.

But she couldn’t and wouldn’t take being cheated on.

Was that why Bucky had decided to relieve her off her wifely duties in bed? Because he had another female? Was it because he had someone else to keep him warm and wet where he needed to be?

She couldn’t even think about the idea without feeling herself gag.

Why would he ruin her life by bringing her here when he already had that Sarah?!

How could she be so dumb, trying to meet him in the middle like that? Starting a peaceful life with this orc was never going to work!

She tried to pick the lock on the door like she usually would, but the new lock Bucky had put in wouldn’t budge.

She groaned in frustration before hauling herself up and out of the cottage window, running off to gods know where, hoping that luck would be her friend for once and maybe lead her somewhere out of these woods for good this time.

This marriage ends today.

Back at the shop, Bucky was as exasperated as they come as he used his chisel to shape the rough piece of wood in his hand.

After everything he was doing, how could she think that he had someone else? What was he doing wrong? What was missing?

Bucky had only ever wanted her. He thought he was the luckiest orc just because he got to fall asleep next to her every night.

How could he make her see that?

As his mind ran with thoughts and before Bucky could stop it, the chisel slipped and sharply cut the inside of his palm.

“Gods, fuck!” He shouted in pain as blood started flowing from the fresh wound.

Bucky tried to get the chisel from the floor so that no one would step on it, but his hand hurt more when he tried to squeeze his fist around the item. He grabbed it with his metal hand instead, rushing to the supply closet to find a clean towel to wrap around his cut.

He couldn’t continue working like that; couldn’t do anything with his hand.

Sam insisted on sending for his sister after seeing the amount of blood staining the cloth around Bucky’s hand.

Sarah tried to be efficient while messily stitching the wound as best as she could, wrapping it up carefully with gauze before advising Bucky to take a few days off work until his hand was healed. She was no doctor but she did her best for her friend.

Bucky thanked both siblings, giving Sarah the jam jar before leaving to go back home as his friends insisted.

He thought that his day couldn’t get any worse, but then he opened the cottage door to find the place empty and he could all but forget about his injury as he slammed his fist against the wall, crying out in anger. If his wound had started bleeding again, Bucky didn’t care.

“What the hell did you think you were doing out there again?!”

Bucky was enraged. He had found her wandering around the forest, as lost and as stubborn as ever.

“Getting as far away from you as possible.” She crossed her arms, her stare upset and unbending.

“And going where exactly!” He shouted, the idea of her spending the night inside a cold cave clawing at his back.

“Anywhere but here!” She yelled back, her face so hot she could feel sweat forming on her hairline in the middle of winter.

“It’s going to snow soon! Do you wanna get sick again?” Bucky held her by the arm, not too roughly as he didn’t really want to cause any real damage.

Neither of them noticed his blood staining her clothes.

She was too infuriated to notice Bucky’s hand wrapped in gauze. She saw nothing but red.

“I don’t care. I just don’t wanna be with you!” She retorted, snatching her arm out of his hold and pushing at his chest.

Though he didn’t move, her touch too weak to do anything to his colossal body, Bucky was hurt.

“Are you doing all of this just because of a little jealousy? Gods, human females are just—” Bucky shook his head in frustration.

“Jealousy? Hah! You think I’m jealous?” She faked a laugh, “this is not even a real marriage! What’s there for me to be jealous over?!” She continued raising her voice, the mention of her jealousy provoking her further.

Her words hurt Bucky more, the real gash now slashed across his heart.

Not even a real marriage.

Despite everything he was doing and trying, she still didn’t consider their marriage a real marriage.

“Well, do you wanna make it real, little human?” Bucky growled lowly, bringing her closer to his heaving chest by her arm, painting the sleeve of her dress in more of his blood.

Her heart thrummed in her ears at the proximity, her breath trembling as she imagined what the orc could do to her if he only wanted to.

“Let go of me,” she whispered as tears clouded her vision, hoping he wouldn’t be able to hear how scared she was in her voice.

Bucky complied, hating how nervous she got in the span of a second.

She ran to the kitchen at once, a hand on her chest as she felt her heart trying to escape her ribcage.

What an audacious orc! He was already with someone else and he dared threaten her with taking her to bed?! Damn, she was so stupid to think they could make something good out of this marriage. So stupid.

Bucky took a seat on the bed, face in his metal hand as he tried to gather his thoughts.

He had almost lost her for the millionth time today.

Was it going to be like this forever? What could he do to make it stop? How could he show her that this life with her was all he ever wanted? That he never wanted anybody else?

“You’re not gonna eat with me?” He asked when he saw her slam one bowl of rice on the table.

“I’m not hungry,” she replied curtly, her eyes on the ground and her jaw tense as she waited for him to get off the bed.

Bucky moved away understandably, taking a seat on the dining table instead as she climbed in bed, burying herself under the covers and hiding away from him.

Bucky knew she wasn’t asleep and he needed to talk to her; or at least see her face.

How was he supposed to have an appetite to eat if she wasn’t on the table with him, her beautiful eyes facing him and her shy smile greeting him every time he would moan over the taste of her delicious food?

“Hey.”

She felt the bed dip next to her as it took on Bucky’s body, his warm hand on her shoulder just like last night.

“Let your sweet tooth Sarah give you a kiss,” she spoke before he could say anything.

“This is not about the kiss. And She’s not my Sarah,” Bucky told her, turning her on her back so she could see his sincere face and hopefully believe him, “she’s not my anything. She’s just a good friend.”

She snorted, not buying it as she turned back to face the wall.

Bucky brought her back to him again, “she’s not married. She’s a widow, who is loyal to the memory of her husband, with two kids that are her whole world.” Bucky answered her earlier question, not wanting to hide anything from her.

“That’s none of my business.” She pretended to be uninterested, giving him the cold shoulder for the third time as she turned away, covering her head with the blanket.

Deep inside, she knew she was relieved to know that Sarah wasn’t interested though.

“It is your business,” Bucky sighed, taking the blanket away from her hands, making her look at him again, “it is your business when you think I’m involved with her.”

“You can do whatever you want.” She shrugged, acting indifferent, making Bucky more frustrated.

He released a loud exhale, “you’re what I want, little human.”

She remained silent, not expecting the orc’s patience or this admittance.

He had told her he wanted her before, but that was on their ‘wedding night’ when he had forced her to get completely naked for him.

This one was different. It sounded different and felt different.

“You don’t have to say all these things. We both know how this marriage came to be a thing.” She tried her best to hold her tears in.

“How did it come to be a thing?” Bucky wanted to see inside her head.

“How?” She sat up, her voice loud yet wobbly with emotions, “they gave you an orphaned girl you didn’t get to see or pick beforehand to make up for making you go to war for them, that’s how!” She felt bad for him, but even more for herself.

So she had read the contracts.

“Who told you I didn’t get to see or pick you?” Bucky swallowed.

“What do you mean?!”

“I’ve seen you before, little human. More than once. And I asked for you to be my wife instead of the noble man’s daughter I was originally offered.” Bucky came clean about the truth behind their arranged marriage.

“You what?!” She became even angrier.

He did this? She was here now because of him?!

“I willingly picked you, little human.”

“Why! Why me! Did you ever stop to think that I might not want this? Or you?!” She practically screamed in anger.

Who was he to decide her future for her? Why didn’t he just take the nobleman’s daughter!

“I did. But you were the only human female who has ever caught my attention. I couldn’t take my eyes off you every time I won a glimpse.” Bucky confessed, his light grey skin gaining a tint at the cheeks as he bared his heart to her, “I knew I couldn’t continue if I didn’t have you, little human.”

Won a glimpse

Couldn’t continue if I didn’t have you

No one has ever used such words to describe an act so normal as looking at her. No one had ever wanted or needed her. Why was her heartbeat speeding up? What was that orc doing to her?

“The minute you entered my cottage, you became my one and only. I don’t want anyone but you.” He promised, squeezing her smaller hand in his, “I will live and die loyal to you, little human.”

She knew he was telling the truth because she had heard the stories. Loyalty was very important to orcs and their mates were for life.

She just stared at Bucky, words stolen from her throat by the way he was looking at her.

No one has ever looked at her like that. Like she was the most beautiful thing they could see. Like she was the only girl in the world. Like she was the only one with any sort of control over this orc’s mind and heart.

“When I suggested gifting Sarah some jam, I was only thinking of doing something nice for a friend.”

She listened with a frown, a little angry again at the mention of the other female’s name.

“If it wasn’t for Sam and Sarah and the boys, I wouldn’t have survived a lot of things. They are my only friends and the only ones I can share nice things with.”

“The only ones?” She pouted, turning her face to the dining table in discontent.

“That’s not what I meant! I just— I’m not used to saying such things, but—” Bucky took a deep breath, squeezing her smaller hand closer, “I was so proud of you being my wife and knowing how to make such delicious things that I wanted the important ones in my life to share it with me…”

Bucky didn’t have to know, but those words were everything to her because when she thought about it, no one has ever been proud to know or have her. No one has ever been proud of her for anything.

But Bucky was, and he wanted to show her off.

When she looked back at the orc, he was staring at the blanket covering her thighs, doubtful to meet her gaze.

Bucky looked… nervous, if you will.

She smiled, eyes tearing up despite herself as she waited for him to look back at her.

When he did, Bucky was instantly smiling back at the sight of her grin. That smile was the whole world for him; it sent him up on cloud nine.

“Have dinner with me?” He asked, his metal thumb wiping away a stray tear from the corner of her eye.

She nodded, her smile bigger as she got up and walked to the kitchen to make herself a plate, her heart going a hundred miles per minute as she couldn’t make her smile leave her face.

She wanted to be angrier over the fact that he got to choose and she didn’t, but then again, if she was being honest with herself, she probably could have never dreamt up a husband as good as Bucky was to her if she tried.

She believed that everything happened for a reason and she was too dreamy not to imagine that this whole marriage had to happen exactly the way it did just for her to meet this orc, and maybe, against all odds, have her happy ending with him.

Taking the lid off of the rice pot, she finally saw it: her palm covered in fresh blood.

“Oh gods!” She quickly washed her hand under the water, seeing and feeling no injuries, the realization that it must be Bucky’s blood sent a pang to her chest.

“Bucky?” Tears blurred her vision as she found the orc in the bathroom, trying and failing to remove the wrapping around his right palm with his left one.

She had been forced into this marriage, a union she never agreed to, but as she watched him struggle to tend to his wound, something inside her softened.

How did she not notice that he had come home with a covered up hand?

“Are you okay?!” Bucky asked, troubled to see her crying even when he was the one bleeding above his bathroom sink.

Her heart clenched at the sight; at the care in his cerulean eyes, “what happened to you?”

She sped up to get the first-aid box from him, getting out everything she was going to need as she looked at his bloody palm.

“It’s nothing, sweet thing,” Bucky told her softly, hating the look of anxiety on her precious face even if it was for him; even if it was making him feel all sorts of things, “just a scratch, really. Nothing I can’t handle”.

She tenderly finished unwrapping his hand, gasping as she saw the bleeding gash across it, “this doesn’t look like nothing!” She cried, more tears streaming down her face, “how did you get this?”

“I just hurt myself while working…” Bucky’s metal hand hesitantly pat her shoulder.

“Bucky.” She looked up at him, not believing that that was the only reason because the wound seemed to be loosely stitched and it was obvious that something had happened to make the wound bleed after it had been stitched.

“And I might have punched the wall when I came home and didn’t find you,” Bucky mumbled lowly, not wanting to make her feel bad.

It was just a silly scrape compared to what he had to endure back when he was still fighting wars, really.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed into the back of her hand, feeling terrible for all the things she has been putting him through ever since she came here.

“Hey, I’m okay.” Bucky’s metal hand cupped her cheek, his smooth thumb sliding across to wipe her tears.

“No, you’re not.” She shook her head in deep regret, not believing that he was still the one reassuring her in such a state.

“I am, I swear on our marriage.” Bucky wiped under her eyes patiently, caring about nothing but her heart carrying no burdens.

She was speechless because did Bucky just use their marriage to swear? Was it really that important to him that he would swear on it?

She didn’t care that this was an arranged marriage in possibly the most twisted of ways, a woman knew love when she encountered it and that orc’s eyes were showing nothing but pure love.

In the middle of her heart’s longing for a person to care about her, she couldn’t bring herself to step on Bucky’s. Trying to calm her down when he was the one injured and dripping blood? Yeah, that was an orc worth trying, caring and staying for.

“I’m— I’m gonna need to redo the stitches, is that okay?” She sniffled, relaxing herself as she wordlessly promised those concerned blue eyes to give them and this marriage her all.

“Yes.” Bucky smiled when he saw her wipe her tears away and the smile she gave him back made his heart soar.

“It might hurt a little, but just for a short bit, okay?”

Bucky nodded, not believing how delicately she was handling his huge hand with her smaller ones.

He was glad she never had to witness him back then or the actually deadly injuries he had had inflicted on him during wars. He wouldn’t have been able to take that look of fear in her eyes after every fight.

“Who did those sloppy stitches anyway?” She wondered in dissatisfaction with the work and Bucky swallowed hard.

She looked at him knowingly when he remained silent, “it was sweet tooth Sarah, wasn’t it?” She asked with half a smile as she started cautiously taking out the old stitches with the tweezers.

“Yes.” Bucky nodded sheepishly, “but Sam only called for her help because they don’t offer me help in the kingdom’s infirmaries.”

“What?!” Her head snapped up angrily.

They don’t offer him service at the infirmaries?! After all that he had done for this kingdom?

“I’m no longer a soldier of their own so…” Bucky shrugged with a sad smile.

Her expression went from angry to devastated to angry again in less than a second, “this is gonna sting a little.” She warned as she disposed of the old sutures in the bin.

“Don’t be upset, little human.”

She looked up, not knowing what to say or how to apologize to the orc about the terrible treatment of this kingdom’s people, but his smile told her that everything was going to be all right. She couldn’t help but smile back.

Her eyes swayed between his palm and his face as she started disinfecting the wound with the piece of sterilized cotton in her hand.

Bucky hissed and winced, making her stop at once.

“I’m sorry! I’m so so—”

“Ha, fooled ya! It’s not that bad,” Bucky laughed, amused at her reaction, instantly earning himself a slap on his shoulder with the back of her hand.

“Hey, you can’t do that to the injured!” Bucky whined playfully.

“Can’t I?” She teased, biting her smile back.

He smiled wider because she could.

Oh, she could do anything to him and he would take it with a smile and thank her for it.

For a heartbeat, the world around Bucky seemed to blur as he focused solely on her, engraving every detail of her smile into his memory. It was a sight he never wanted to forget, a ray of light in the darkness that had clouded his years for so long.

Everything was going to be okay, Bucky thought as he brought her to his chest with his metal arm, praying to the gods she wouldn’t pull away.

“I’m— I’m almost done,” she muttered coyly, trying to make him let her go so she could finish tending to his injury.

But then she felt it: her husband’s tusks were pressing gently on her scalp as Bucky kissed her hair.

Her breath caught in her throat, a mixture of surprise and tenderness washing over her as she felt herself wanting to stay longer inside his embrace.

“Thank you, little human,” he whispered lovingly.

As she tilted her head slightly to meet Bucky’s captivating eyes, she found herself lost in the depths of their oceans, catching a vulnerability she hadn't noticed before.

She looked deeper and she realized that beneath his rugged exterior lied a heart capable of great tenderness, a heart that might just beat for her and her alone.

She beamed again as she softly replied, “you’re welcome, Bucky.”

Yeah, they were going to be okay.

Part IV

Tag List:

@harrysthiccthighss @tinystudentfirepurse @lavendercitizen @tumblin-theworldaway @pretty-pop-princess-hs @lilymurphy03 @idontwannagomrstarkk @glxwingrxse @littlelioncub43 @mathletemadison @canned-rootbear @pandaxnienke @loveisallyouneed1125 @floral-recs @littlemoonkiller @hallecarey1 @vespasianphantom @vicmc624 @winters1917 @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @blkmystery @millercontracting @trappedwriter @am-3-thyst @obsessedwithquinn @sydnielauryn @alittlerayof-pitchblack @olipiaa @peterparkersgirl-blog @buckybarnessweetheart @thealyrs @colorfulbluebirdpainter @stuckysgirl27 @ihavetwoholesforareason @princess-bee0 @pastel-noah168 @steeph-aniie @buckitostan @onthr-dream @sapphirebarnes @123iloveyou456 @ciaqui @lindasweetie @justherefortheficandsmut @xxdiaqiaoxx @morgthemagpie @wintrsoldrluvr @goldylions

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theysaidhush · 8 months

Note

noncon/dubcon with any legal enha member? 😭

Roommate!Jake being a freak !

Non/dub-con with Jake. I can sooo imagine this man being so infatuated with you that he would take advantage of you while you’re drunk or sleeping.

So imagine Perv!Roommate!Jake who fell in love with you the very first minute you moved in… And he fell hard. Maybe too hard. On the head. Because now he’s crazy for you. Or just crazy.

🕊 DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT 🕊

Jake’s plan A was easy. Fuck any living and breathing person to make you jealous. Old, young, man, woman, you’ve seen it all come and leave the Australian’s bedroom. You’ve heard them at night. You’ve even seen some of them drink coffee dressed in skimpy outfits or Jake’s shirt. But Jake found out that it wasn’t disturbing you. You were the perfect roommate, doing your chores and never complaining. So the first time you saw one of his one night stand sitting at the table, you asked them with a sickingly sweet smile if they wanted some hot chocolate. Sweet naive and caring you not giving a fuck about befriending the person Jake fucked last night. It made him sick and yet amazed at how perfect you were.

And perfect you were. At least for him. He's convinced himself that you were. Perfect but just for him. So it was the reason why he needed you. When he thought he couldn't fall more for you, you proved him wrong. Cooking him dinner, preparing breakfast, doing his laundry when he forgot to do it. You were the perfect wife. At least, that was what his sick brain would let him think. On the other end, you were just being polite and human. You weren't going to cook yourself something and watch him starve when he came home at two in the morning. But again, Jake had trouble differentiate kindness and love. So he was pretty sure that you were onto him.

Seeing how plan A failed miserably, he decided to start plan B. Being the perfect boyfriend material. Everyone loves boyfriend material right ? Getting up early to prepare breakfast, going out with you to shop for groceries, helping you carry the bag, cook dinner. He was basically thriving at the thought that you were both acting and doing what a normal couple would do. Except that you were just roommates. Maybe even friend now.

So when he saw that you were starting to get comfortable with him, he saw an opportunity. Well, many actually. It all started with him stealing your underwear. He felt sick, but only because it was the first time. The second time he came on your pantie, painting the tissue in white before sniffing it as if it was the better parfume in the store, his guilt evaporated. The third time he jerked off in your bra, imagining your breast wrapping his shaft, he was a goner. But you did not notice, so it was fine.

The second thing he did was taking pictures of you without you knowing - obviously. When you're washing the dishes, he would come behind you and take a nice picture of your ass. There's something about your waist pressed on the counter that makes him go wild. Or when you're under the shower - someone accidentally broke the lock. There's just something about your naked silhouette through the curtain that makes him whine harder when pumping his cock. But the best pictures of all are those when you're bending over or sitting on your knees. At first, it was difficult, he was always too late so he never took the picture at the right time. But with practice - yes, with practice, that's how sick he is - he finally managed to get the right pictures. There's just something about the curve of your ass that makes him thrust harder into your pillow.

The third thing he did was fucking you while you were asleep. You were so nice and naive, getting so comfortable with him after six months of him being nice and pliant with you. He did not bring anyone home during those six months, and yet you were still considering him as a friend. Just a friend. It made him sick. And yet here you were, sleeping with only a shirt covering your small frame. Panties showing when tossing around. You literally asked for what was coming, right ? Right..? The Australian couldn't care less, tho, he was about to take what was his.

He only praised himself when rolling your shirt up and showing your breasts. You did not wake up. The pills he gave you were effective.

You did not moved an inch when he sat on your torso and finally put his hard and leaking dick between your tits, thrusting harder at the feeling of your round breast and soft skin against his cock.

You did not flinched when he painted your face in white, shooting ropes after ropes on your sleeping and unaware face, grinning, moaning and panting like a bitch at how good you made him feel.

You did not moved an inch when he groped your breast, sucking on your hardened nipples while grinding his dick against your naked cunt - your pantie in his back pocket.

Or when he hugged you tight and whimpered in your ears while rutting on you, humping on your pussy like a fucking weirdo, small tears escaping his eyes at how good you were making him feel, how smoothly the tip of his dick was grazing at your cunt everytime his hips would thrust forward.

And nor did you moved when he finally cum, putting just the tip inside your pussy so he could watch his cum leak from the small entrance. As if he really fucked you. Could you blame him, your pussy just looks so pretty with white sperm dripping down your thighs, leaking onto your asshole, pussy glistening with the evidence of his love. He can't help himself but take a picture.

Next time he fucks you you're gonna be awake.

#enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #kpop hard hours #enhypen x reader #jake smut #sim jaeyun smut #sim jaeyun x reader #sim jake x reader #jake sim smut #jake sim x reader #dead dove do not eat #literally don't know how to tag Jake #like should I put Sim Jaeyun or Sim Jake or Jake Sim #anyway #tw noncon

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 2 months

Note

I'm really sick and Satan's sacrificial waterfall is here AT THE SAME TIME!

I don't know if you do blurbs or headcannons, but if so, would you be willing to write for the boys (either taskforce 141, or singular characters,) taking care of an afab reader who has never had anyone wanting to take care of them?

If not, sorry to bother!

I don't typically take requests but... since I'm in the same boat (sacrificial waterfall is probably going to come over the weekend for me), I'll 100% do it.

A while back I also posted this: "You're feeling ill" and it's also along the same vein, if you'd like an extra little pick me up.

Period woes.

Rating: G Words: 1K~ tags: afab!reader but you/your pronouns, SFW!, fluff, comfort, periods and associated symptoms.

A person’s period might be the most hypocritical moment of their routine. They’re expected to continue moving, working and living their live as normal, all with a smile on their face, while their uterus actively attempts to cut off its own circulation… as if for any other injury or sickness you wouldn’t be expected to lay down and STOP for a moment and allow yourself to heal up, or at least improve enough to not be miserable.

But no. You’re expected to deal with it alone, to not show a reaction, to not be irritable, or groaning and writhing in pain. Take a shower, stock up on painkillers and slap a smile on your face, you’ve gotta go out in the world and act as if you’re not actively dreading every waking moment you spend on your feet.

That’s why you’ve learned to hide it when you’re going through your monthly. Your family, partners… not even your girlfriends know when you’re having it. Ever since you were a young teen, just starting out, it was very much a conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know, sort of moment.

But it’s miserable. You’re always miserable. Everything hurts, the cramps, the headaches, the back pain, hip pain, your sore chest… Plus the blood, the lack of appetite (or increase in appetite), the nausea, the fact you want to cry one moment, or break dishes and scream the next, the way your colleagues annoy you beyond compare, how certain sounds grit your nerves just. enough. to make you feel like you’re losing it… And then you can’t sleep.

And of course… he notices it. How could he not?

Ghost is discreet about it. He doesn’t mention it, doesn’t make a big deal about it… But he’s VERY good at taking care of you without you noticing he’s doing it. His love language is acts of service… So he simply goes around giving you a hand on whatever you might need. Food? Made. Dishes? Done. Laundry? Washed, Dried, Folded and Put Away. He finds you trying to do something? No. Give it here, he’ll do it.

The inevitable day that a leak happens and you find yourself angry at yourself as you strip the bedsheets off the bed, trying to be discreet about it so he doesn’t see it, he silently grabs the sheets off your hands and murmurs a “Go take a shower and change. I’ve got this.” before turning to put the sheets in the washer, clean the mattress and remake the bed so you can lay down again by the time your shower is over. It makes you emotional, sometimes, that such a stoic man will gladly take on every other responsibility to allow you to heal.

Gaz, blessed be him, is an absolute sweetheart… But he’s also a silly boy. He notices and although he’s not going to make a big deal about it, he’s still very… Boyish about it. Uses all the silly names for your period (“The Communists are coming”, “Shark week”, “Satan’s waterfall”, “Carrie”) and affectionately calls you “My little ketchup packet”.

He’s all for ordering takeout and getting you whatever you want when and how you want it. He’ll rub your back and be very careful about where and how he touches you. He’s ginger with touches around your waist and lower stomach, looks at you with those big brown eyes of his, as if checking that he’s not hurting you or crossing a boundary. You find yourself getting emotional when he whispers about how strong you are to deal with this every month… Keeps asking gently if you need anything… It makes you feel so safe.

Price’s older. He’s been in many relationships before. He notices your period is coming before it even does… Notices how you’re acting. Jumpier, grumpier, sadder… Notices how you toss and turn the couple of nights leading up to it. And he’s silently prepared. He’s made a supply run to the grocery store to get what brand of period products you use and some painkillers and puts them where you can see them in the bathroom.

Fills you up with warm herbal tea and food that he knows are easy to digest and help with your state. No fucking chocolate and sugar or potato chips, you’re being pumped full of soups and stews and veggies and cut up fruit. He’ll sit by your side with a paring knife and an apple and slowly peel, core and cut it, before slowly feeding you (and himself) the slices. When you try to resist it, at first, too used to doing things alone, he’ll grab your face with both hands, look into your eyes and tell you. “And why exactly would I let you do that, when you’ve got me here to help you? How does that make sense?”

Soap’s… Well… Soap’s got a bunch of sisters… Each of them dealing with their periods in wildly different ways... So one thing he knows for sure: He’s not about to assume anything. You do what you’ve got to, he’ll adjust to you. He needs to go to the bathroom but you’re in there? Copy that, he’ll go piss in the yard. You’re having a cry in the kitchen because nothing looks good but you’re hungry? Talk it out with him, what do you want to eat? Let’s figure it out together, bonnie. You need to lie down in a dark room because of a migraine or headache or just to catch on sleep you’ve missed? Johnny’s blacked out every window, gathered every stray pillow and blanket in the house and will make you a nest if he’s got to.

And when you wake up in the middle of the night with a whine and a stretch because your back hurts and you’ve got cramps and cannot for the life of you get comfortable, Johnny’s hands are rubbing over you, pressing kisses to your temple and murmuring little “I ken, love… It’ll be over soon… I’m sorry you’re going through this…”

#ikea writes 💚#cod fanfic #cod headcanons #reqs #simon ghost riley #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #feeling sick #sickness #menstruation

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dreamer-after-dark · 8 months

Note

I could see Wally Darling being the kind to sneak into your room/house when you're away and steal your panties/underwear. You figure that maybe the washing machine is eating them at first until a pair you were wearing yesterday disappeared from the top of the pile.

👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁

Side note, I have had my panties stolen before! Anyway, here you go ٭(•﹏•)٭

Part Two

Word count: 1,945

Wally is shameless.

👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜

[Y/N]

It happened again.

[Julie]

What??

[Sally]

Panty thief struck again?

[Julie]

Twice in one week???

[Y/N]

It's not a thief! I refuse to believe it!

[Sally]

How many pairs does that make now? 12?

[Julie]

Close! 15!

[Y/N]

[Sally]

I fail to understand why this can't be the doing of a petty thief?

[Julie]

Y/N!

[Julie]

Y/N are you there?

[Julie]

Where did they go? :/

[Sally]

Alas, my darling Juliet! Tis I alone that remains here

[Wally]

Hello

[Sally]

Hi, Wally.

👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜

Seventeen pairs of your best fitting panties have been lost, lost forever. Never to be found with the same elasticity or fit. You stared out into the empty street where the sun parted between leaves. You were too broke to afford replacing them and so you wandered this world commando when the pants offered enough coverage and comfort. Or even if it didn't you still had no choice should you plan around an inviting evening out.

With a huff you adjusted your basket against your hip, your unfolded clothes flopping a bit. The sunshower surprised you as it pelted against the non opening glass doors of the building's laundromat. After double checking the seats and dryer you headed for the opened door just off to the side. You entered a gray stairwell. Beneath the staircases was a collection of cleaning supplies, a yellow mop bucket, and a locked cabinet.

Your slippers echoed through the stairwell as you jogged up. The door to your floor was propped open with a rock. You used your free hand to open the door fully and slide the rock inside. You pushed it to the side with your foot not wanting anyone to trip over on it like you had. Your phone smacked your face leaving a nasty bruise under your eye. It still hurts to remember.

The door shut behind you with a rusty squeak. Your slippers slid lightly against the tiled floors until you made it to your apartment door. The handle gave way and you were thrilled to find it still open. Music boomed from somewhere within one of the rooms. The smell of weed wafted around mixing with the chilled air feeding in from the windows.

You inhaled deeply, shaking loose your worries. As you walked down your hallway you passed the open bathroom where giggling and hushed whispers could be heard. Julie and Sally were doing their makeup together, facetiming you assumed. Further was the kitchen where you heard the clinking of silverware against wood. The voices from the bathroom quieted.

Wally was stirring a cup of coffee when he spotted your annoyed expression, "Hello, Y/N. Are you alright?"

"Another pair off and vanished," you roll your eyes with a glance at your basket, "It's getting annoying."

"I can see how annoying that could get. Do you think they've all been stolen?"

"No! No. I'm sure it'll sort itself out. Have you got anymore coffee, Wally?"

Wally hands you the mug he was holding, "This one's yours, honeycrisp."

You thanked him as he turned away to prepare his own. His hair cascaded like waves down his back. The vibrant blue shining below the lights. Wally was amazing at coloring his hair. You turn away and head down the hallway where two doors faced each other. You entered the left one silently praying thanks to the great nothingness beyond for leaving it unlocked for you.

You placed your laundry on your bed. You would fold the clothes, but your keys needed to be found. You looked around your slightly cluttered room. The tapestry on your window was tied up letting in the sun. The smell of wet earth rose up as the rain thundered down. By the window was a desk. It was stained with paint and ink. On top was a journal, several colors of paint, and a large bottle of water. A mug with several drying paint brushes propped up within say atop the bookshelf.

Small plushies were scattered among the shelves and on the floor. Your bed was next to the wall by the door. The blanket was a pile on the floor next to the end of the bed. Larger plushies were squished from your tossing and turning. Pillows were crammed between the bed frame and wall. Eyes landing on your newly added laundry basket made you realize cleaning your entire room would help you find your missing keys.

��💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜[Wally]

Hi, Sally.

Hi, Julie.

[Sally]

Wally, you wouldn't happen to know about the Boudoir Bandit?

[Wally]

No.

[Julie]

Maybe it's one of the other tenants!

[Sally]

Nefarious tenant!

[Y/N]

It has to be the machine

Can't be anything else

[Sally]

Perish the thought! The Panty Snatcher must be caught and brought to justice!

[Julie]

Perish the thought!

[Wally]

Perish the thought!

[Y/N]

Who could it be?

[Sally]

I see you've come around.

[Julie]

It could be anyone!

Any of us!!

How scary!!!

[Wally]

It could be anyone?

[Sally]

List of suspects:

Sally

Julie

Y/N

Poppy

Wally

Howdy

Barnaby

Home

[Y/N]

Me??

Why me??

[Julie]

It's a crazy world, Y/N!

We cannot rule out anyone!

Not even you

[Sally]

Julie is exactly right, darling Y/N! We simply cannot rule you out!

[Wally]

I would hate to see you go without, neighbor.

[Y/N]

Ok :/

👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜

You smirked at the messages filling up your screen. Julie's energetic texts became shorter and you could imagine her hot pink nails tapping against the screen of her phone. Sally's text became increasingly verbose in response. Wally was lurking as he always did, chiming in here and there.

The phone slipped into your pocket as music filled the already tidied room. Your keys had been found while sweeping underneath your desk. Along with a few scrunchies and a button, your heavily outfitted keys were dragged out. With such a clunky set up you wondered how you ever lose it to begin with. Work keys, house keys, anime characters, pepper spray, and a stuffed animal. All of it designed to be eye-catching and hard to lose.

You flopped onto your bed opting for rest. Your ultimate goal had been completed and you were horribly drained. Your mind drifted back to the mounting loss of your panty collection. Solid color boxers, high waisted panties, boy shorts, thongs, sick day panties. All of it is gone! Sally was right to call it nefarious, but believing that you were being specifically targeted was a level of fear you wanted to avoid. You turned off your notifications for the next hour and returned to cleaning up.

Soon your room was clean, your clothes put away, and the bathroom was finally open. The glow of the full moon was bright and brilliant tonight. Leaving your desk you grabbed a change of clothes, sans panties, and a towel. You stripped down leaving all of your clothes inside the now empty basket. Stepping out you noticed the room across from you was quiet. There was a note taped to the door reading:

Out for the next three days! Rent is on the table!

Sally and Julie were heading out to New York for a concert. All the more to enjoy a long, luxurious shower. Wally was in the room down the opposite hall. His room was the only one on that side. He had the biggest room in the apartment for all of his art equipment. Aside from his bed you couldn't tell it was his bedroom. The last you had been inside it was filled with disturbing personal works. Each one felt delicate and haunting. Completely unlike his pleasant and sweet demeanor.

The music was still going though not as loud. It was mellow and dragging. You could hear the bubbling of his bong. The sound made your heart race. You quickly stepped into the bathroom. The thick glass ceiling above always excites you. It was such a crummy apartment, but it had its ups with this being one of them.

Julie's stickers covered the thick sides of her movable mirror. Her makeup bag was left open covered in eye shadow dust and glitter. A pack of eyelashes were left open on the top of the bag.

A little smudged message was left on the mirror written in red lipstick, reading:

You're beautiful, starshine!

Julie was a sweetheart. The rain had stopped, leaving a silence in the tall bathroom. With a turn of the faucet cold water rushed out from the shower head. The patter of water against ceramic filled the room. You stepped under the stream shivering as the droplets thudded against your skin.

Stepping out from the shower you dried yourself off and slipped into your change of clothes. You felt rejuvenated! As you stepped out of the bathroom, a voice called for you.

"Hi, Y/N. Would you like a snack?" Wally was standing in the kitchen with reddened eyes.

"What are you having?" You couldn't help but smile at the sight.

"A cut up apple. I couldn't think of anything better," he giggled, "I have a few extra?"

You accept the offered apples, "Thanks. I'm sure I forgot to eat with all the other things I also forgot."

"I'm sorry that's happening, it must be tough. Julie did say you were left without much to wear."

You groaned imagining Julie explaining things in detail as she usually would, "I'd rather not make it into a thing. It's just so weird to even consider what they're saying."

"I have a pack of unopened boxers. They may not fit perfectly, but they should help?" He smiled completely at ease.

"That's.. Ok. I couldn't accept that." As weird as it was to have your underwear stolen, Wally offering you some was even weirder.

"Oh, Ok. I'll hold it until you're ready." Wally walked off into his room leaving you in the kitchen.

You heaved a sigh as you leaned against the counter. The apple slices crunched as you bit into it. Each one refreshing and cold. You rinsed the plate in the sink and switched off the lights. You returned to your room, but stopped just short of the door.

It was cracked open. You were sure the door shut behind you when you stepped out. With a gentle push you opened the door further. When seeing nothing out of place you stepped in and shut the door behind you listening for that click of metal against wood. When you heard it you let go of the doorknob and hung up your towel to dry.

You looked around your room again looking over every little detail. The still tidy room was just as you left it. Plushies put away, paints organized, bed made, and the floor clean. Your eyes glanced over the basket on the floor and your heart skipped. Your head swiveled back as your eyes scanned it once more. Leaning down you picked at the shirt and pants shaking them out. A pair of socks fell from the pant leg, but nothing else. With dread it dawned on you. The panties you had worn not even an hour ago were missing.

👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁

[Y/N]

Wally

[Wally]

Yes?

[Y/N]

Where are they?

[Wally]

Where is what?

[Y/N]

My panties

[Wally]

Stolen, I presume?

[Y/N]

By you

Where are they?

[Wally]

You're welcome to check my room, Y/N

Do you want to come in?

👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁

You heard the music dip low in the furthest room. You heard the door click as the knob turned. Your heart pounded in your chest as you heard him chuckle from deep within his room.

#playfellowxxx #wally darling #wally darling playfellowxxx #yandere wally darling #wally darling x reader #wally darling x y/n #wally darling x you #wally darling x self insert #wally darling x gn reader #x yn #x gender neutral reader #x reader #boudoir bandit #panty snatcher #creepy wally darling #cuddles and conversations #wetdreams #panty snatcher wally darling #panty snatcher au

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notsosturniolo · 1 month

Text

Duke — Matt Sturniolo x Reader (ft. Chris and Nick platonically)

Contains: Mentions of death/death of a pet/mentions of not eating/angst/hurt and a little comfort

—

Two days, sixteen hours, thirty minutes, and fifty-six seconds. That’s how long It’d been since I’d seen Duke. Well seen him in person, I’d seen pictures on a crappy online memorial page that my mom put together. Not to mention that I couldn’t stop replaying videos.

Lately, I had two on repeat, there was one that had always made me laugh, I took it three years ago when Nick, Matt, and Chris were walking him, he went off leash at the park and Chris chased him around for hours, he’d flail his arms around to stimulate him and chase him through the grass. The second video was me and him, I was sick, just a common cold, but he knew, he always knew when I was sick. So he climbed up into my bed (I was too tired to protest the mud he spread) and he sprawled out on top of me, providing me with his warmth through my fever. It was nice.

Duke, my dog of fifteen years, is gone. Nobody really knew besides my mom and the vet, I didn’t want to tell anyone, I just wanted to rot in bed all day, shut off my phone, and listen to sad music because that seemed like all I was capable of doing.

My house didn’t feel warm anymore. It felt dull and gray, I had to pack up all his toys that were scattered around the floor because seeing them ached.

I stopped going out two days ago, hell I stopped functioning two days ago. I don’t think my phone’s been off since he died and I don’t know when I’ll turn dnd off. Right now it feels like never.

I sigh, closing my fridge door, and slug back to my room. There was nothing in the metal box I could stomach, the first thing I saw when I opened the door was the cheese sticks Duke loved, that was enough for me to close the door and never want to open it again. I palm a Diet Coke off my nightstand and pop the lid. Taking a sip and wince at the bubbles fizzing down my throat before cozying in my bed. My bed that’s missing my dog.

I’d washed and deep cleaned my apartment from head to toe, vacuumed all the carpets, and done all the laundry, the one thing that still smelled of Duke was my throw blanket. It was traced with an unforgettable musk, his musk, and no matter how disgusting it may seem it’s the only thing I have left that smells like him. And the only thing that smells like him that I can bear to see because I need it too.

I sip on my Diet Coke once more before placing it back on my bedside table, it makes a ‘clink’ sound as it hits the glass. Then I shuffle Evermore. It reminds me of him but in a good way, because I got him in the fall plus, he always liked Dorothea.

I can’t get comfy before my doorbell rings. It’s a foreign feeling hearing the ring of the bell but not my dog going ballistic to accompany it.

Begrudgingly I sit up, slowly.

I trek to the front door in a mannerly pace, I’m in no rush to do anything right now.

Groggily, I open the door. I’m suddenly hyper-aware of my appearance when I open it to see my boyfriend… and his two brothers.

I wipe my hoodie sleeve over my cheeks, wiping the remnants of salty tears off my slightly puffy face.

“Y/N!” Nick exclaims, shoving past Matt and Chris to stand closer to me, “You’ve been full ghost for almost three days, where have you been?!” He chides, reprimanding me in a motherly manner.

I sniffle, trying to compose myself but their familiar faces make me want to crumble. Chris looks like he got dragged along with the two, Nick is waiting on my response, and Matt, my boyfriend, is leaning on the doorframe, his eyes scanning me sympathetically as if he can sense my sadness.

However, Chris, who is definitely in a world of his own speaks up, “Where’s Duke? Is he at the groomers or something?”

I shake my head ‘no’, twice, feeling the lump of sadness return in my throat.

Realizing I’m going to cry, I pivot on my heel, not wanting the boys to see me in this state, let alone bring their moods down too. I gesture in a pushing motion towards the door, trying to shoo them out. “its not a good time right now, you should come back later,” I say, but my heart just feels heavy because I feel burdened with an impossible task, one that shouldn’t be mine alone to deal with. But it had already been dealt with so not all that was left was agony. Agonizing sadness.

Before I can promptly close the door Nick’s hand stops it, “Y/N, you’re obviously not okay, let us help you.”

Matt's face softens, “Just start with the reason you haven’t been returning texts.”

“I-I um,” I stammer, trying to find words for why I’ve been a.w.o.l. It’d be wrong to tell them everything while they’re still in the doorway, so I back up and gesture for them to come in.

I start walking to the couch, swallowing harshly and rubbing my sleeve over my face again as I try to compose myself. It’s hard.

Matt sits down before I do, crossing his legs to make a spot for me to sit.

I comply, sit on his lap, and inhale his scent. Just his body wash and citrusy deodorant but it calms me. He wraps his arms around me and the blue fresh love hoodie that he’s wearing is warm to the touch. He leans forward and pressed a kiss to the back of my ear with a small hum, “Baby, what's wrong? And where’s Duke?”

It’s as if I felt everything crumble, feeling Duke’s name off Matt’s lips. I hear a worried gasp from Nick as I start heaving with sobs, clinging to Matt as I cry.

Nick shuffles towards me and Matt, kneeling near my feet, and rubs his palm with encouragement back and forth on my thigh. “Sweetie, what's wrong?” Nick frowns.

Matt hugs me tighter as I try to compose myself, but my throat burns as my body racks with tears shaking as I cry and let out all the emotion I’ve been feeling for the past three days.

“D-duke d-died,” I gasp out through sobs. Letting the words fall off my tongue and then turning into Matt, hiding my face in his sweater and letting his hands console me.

I can sense the energy in the room drop. The boys loved Duke, Chris who’d make endless videos with him, Nick who’d give him treats upon treats, and Matt. Matt who’d go on late night walks with me and him, sleep in bed with him at the foot, feed him if I was tired.

I hear Chris let out a deep sigh, the impact of the news isn’t light.

Matt rubs my back in circular motions to try and soothe me, it works more than not.

My sobs turn to cries and my cries turn to sniffles, leaving me clinging to Matt sadly with tears dripping from my face every now and then.

“Y/N It’s going to be okay,” Nick says, his voice soft.

I let out a dry hum in response. “I know,” I croak, “But, it feels weird and different and I don’t like it.”

“Time will help.” Chris chimes in from his spot behind the couch.

I groan, “Time takes too long.”

Matt stops running his palm over my back and moves his hands up to cup my face. “We’re going to help you.”

He kisses my forehead and hugs me tightly.

“When’s the last time you ate?” He asks.

I pause to think, “Just like this morning I think,”

Matt frowns. “Okay, we're going to fix that, do you want takeout?”

I nod. I cuddle further into Matt while Chris taps away at his phone.

“Thank you guys.”

The triplets all nod, almost simultaneously. “You’re our best friend Y/N of course we're here.” Nick says, “Whether you like it or not.” Chris adds, finally joining the three of you on the couch.

#matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fluff

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longlivesteddie · 10 months

Text

Thinking of Steve who's washing machine broke, so he has to go to the city's laundromat. It's late, he didn't expect anyone to be there. But he notices Eddie Munson sitting on one of the empty chairs, reading.

Steve debates whether he wants to just turn, leave and save this embarrassment for later but he really needs those clean clothes. It's been long overdue.

So he goes and reads the manual on how to start the washing cycle. He sets up the timer, puts in the change and nothing happens. He's almost about to panic, because he didn't bring more change. He re-reads the instructions again. He did everything correct.

"You need to double check the door," a voice says behind him.

"Huh?"

"Sometimes it doesn't close properly." It's Eddie, he appears from behind Steve, pulls on the door handle and slams it back shut. The laundromat beeps and starts.

"Oh. Thanks," Steve says but Eddie is already on the way back to his chair.

The cycle is set to 40 minutes. After that Steve can put the clothes into the dryer or just take and air dry them at home. Which would be less convenient but at least he will not have to die of boredom. He drums his fingers on his thighs.

There's only two machines running, his and Eddie’s. He wonders how many times a week does Eddie go here. He shoots him a glance. Eddie's now scribbling something into a big notebook.

Steve looks back at the laundromat. How the fuck is he going to survive 40 minutes. He didn't think of bringing anything with him. He could theoretically go to his car. Hide in there until it's over...

"Wanna play cards?" Eddie calls, holding a deck in his hand.

And god, Steve would do anything right now to not be bored.

---

I just need Steve figuring out laundry, meeting Eddie there from time to time by accident, before they set up actual landry meetings, they spend the time playing games. And oh well... falling in love in the process.

#steddie #putting my discord thoughts on tumblr #let them boys play cards #let eddie find out that steve harrington... is actually a good dude #mine

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inkdrinkerworld · 8 months

Note

Beefy!james acting like a caring mother for reader who gets so caught up in school and friends and everyday problems and forgets to take care of themselves. I can just see him take such good care of everyone around him but be extra gentle with reader, as if they are a baby.

ohh this was such a good thought baby!! i made this a little angsty my bad. mention of food, allusion to reader having a hard/tough life

it’s hard to accept help from anyone when you’ve been taking care of yourself for so long.

you’re used to doing and giving to other people, that. comes easy- but to accept and be given? it’s difficult.

you’d been running around trying to balance work and school, a social life and being there for your friends and after three months of doing it successfully james could see it starting to weigh on you.

you’re home when he gets in from practice, the kitchen smelling like tuna bake.

“angel?” he calls, worrying his bottom lip as he walks through the house looking for you.

“in the bedroom jamie!” you yell back. james finds you ironing and frowns.

you’ve got dark circles under your eyes, you look a little paler than usual and james can tell you’re unsteady on your feet.

he doesn’t like this one bit, but he doesn’t know how to bridge the gap of taking care of you without you feeling infantilised.

“baby, did you nap today?” he remembers you’d mentioned wanting to take a nap after you got back home- but now he’s not sure that you did.

“nah, didn’t bother with it. wanted tuna bake for dinner and then i did laundry.” you shrug like it’s no big deal, but it is to james.

he takes the iron from you, setting it down and out of the way.

“you can’t go on spreading yourself so thin. you need to take care of yourself, angel.” he says softly and you frown.

“i do,” you say, letting james pull you towards the bed. “i always take care of myself.”

james nods, kissing your forehead, “and you do a great job, but you don’t have to do it by yourself tonight, if you let me help.” his thumbs stroke just under your ear.

you deliberate for some time before saying softly, “yeah, m’tired.” james reads between the words unsaid, kissing you softly before hoisting you up.

the kiss serves as a way to distract yourself from crying. james is gentle like that- offering to take care of you when you’ve done it yourself your whole life.

it makes your belly erupt with butterflies and makes silver tears hang heavy on your waterline.

“baby,” he coos, lifting you off to the bathroom. “it’s okay, it’s safe y’know? to let me do it.”

you nod as he sits you on the counter, “i know, i promise.” james flashes a soft smile, kissing your cheeks as the tears tumble down.

james takes care of you like he breathes, with ease. like it’s nothing out of the ordinary.

he uses your sandalwood and jasmine bodywash, washes your hair with your matching shampoo and conditioner and tucks you into your robe after.

he combs your hair and does your skin care- he even applies your lotion for you.

“i’ll be ten minutes okay?” james says after you’re both dressed and he has some sitcom playing on the tv.

“okay,” before james can leave you grab onto his fingers. “jamie, just wanted t’say thanks.” your eyes well with water again. james thinks it’s a shame, that you’ve been in survival mode for so long and think he needs to be thanked for this- for loving you.

“none needed angel, get comfy okay?”

he comes back with two bottles of orange passion fruit juice, and two plates of food and a sleeve of chocolate biscuits for later.

“alright angel, if you want me to feed you i will.” james gets a giggle and a kiss to his jaw.

somewhere between dinner and laying on james’ chest, you feel the vibration of his words. “you deserve to be taken care of, to get rest and to get everything you want your friends to as well. if you can’t do it, i’ll do it for you- you don’t even have to ask.”

you sniffle, “i’ll tell you more often, promise.”

#jamespotter #james potter #beefy!james potter #beefy!james #james potter fanfiction #james potter one shot #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter x reader #james potter x black!reader #james potter x you #james potter x yn #james potter fic

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minnaci · 4 months

Text

POST-SHOW AFTERGLOW

contents: heartsteel!shieda kayn x afab gn!reader (reader's anatomy is described using the words "pussy", "cunt", "clit", and "cervix"), bottom!reader, use of insertive sex toys by reader, kayn walks in on reader masturbating, established relationship, bedsheet banter, fingering, penis-in-vagina sex, cervix mention, light dumbification, creampie, post-coital cockwarming

watching kayn perform live never fails to get you hot and bothered. luckily, kayn is always willing to take responsibility.

or, kayn fucks reader after a heartsteel concert. it's ridiculously good.

there's a wild sort of energy that ebbs and flows around kayn post-show. adrenaline— lightning in a bottle. he's on top of the world. he'd win any fight. he's ready for anything—

his train of thought comes to an abrupt end as he nudges open the door to your bedroom, and immediately, every cell in his body is subsumed by the low-burning embers of arousal.

he is not ready for this.

blankets lay crumpled around your spread legs. you're an angel, every curve caressed by soft light, and your eyes are squeezed shut as you fuck yourself on a thick dildo.

kayn recognizes that toy. it's the one that's the closest to his size and shape. you only use it when you're feeling particularly needy for him, or when you miss him. a soft, tender ache blooms in his chest.

"kayn," you whimper, sugar sweet. you don't seem to have noticed him, lost in your own world of pleasure. "kayn, please, please, i need you, please—"

your voice breaks on a sob, and kayn's mouth goes dry. his fingers curl with the need to take.

"what a nice surprise." kayn's smirk widens into a full, cocky grin when your eyes fly open and you squeak with surprise.

"kayn!" your hands scramble to pull the toy out, and kayn greedily watches as your pretty hole gapes ever so slightly, fluttering around air. another shot of heat, straight to his cock.

"oh, don't stop on my account," kayn says. "i'm just enjoying the show."

your resultant pout creases right between your eyebrows, and he lets loose a laugh, crossing the room in three eager, bounding steps to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. his tongue flickers out, and he licks into your mouth. he loves how you melt in his arms, how you always let him in so easily. you're so perfect for him. he's just about to crawl into bed and show you just how perfect he thinks you are when—

"shower first," you murmur against his lips, as if you hadn't been making a mess of the sheets for hours before he came home.

"but—" kayn knows exactly what you're about to say. he's got "dirty" clothes on, so he can't get on the bed, which is "clean". but can anyone really blame him when you look so tempting, so obscene, that his brain hurts from how hard his cock is?

"kayn—"

"hear me out." he presses a few sweet, pleading kisses to your cheeks, relishing in the way you melt under his easy affection.

"...fine."

"you're so beautiful, baby. look at you all fucked out. do you really expect me to make it a whole shower without jerking off? and if i jerk off, i'll cum, and there won't be anything left in the ol' sacks to fill you with."

you raise an eyebrow, clearly not impressed. damn it. looks like kayn has to bring out the big guns.

"...i'll wash the sheets after we're done," kayn adds. "so they'll be clean again."

"you really want me so bad you'd do laundry for me?" you swoon dramatically— a feat when you're already laying in bed. "is this what it means to be loved?"

"you're a menace," he says. it can't be legal for you to be both cute and devastatingly sexy at the same time. fuck, he loves you so much he swears he'll explode with it. his chest tightens. his fists clench. he can't stand it.

he pounces onto you, heart singing at the elated little yelp you let out as he presses a flurry of kisses to your face.

"i love you," kayn growls, incongruously aggressive for how sweet the words are. his fingers find their way between your thighs, rubbing where you want it the most. he dips inside, just a little, but you tense as if he's shoved all five (and a half!) inches inside of you at once.

"love you— love you too, kayn—"

fuck, he could listen to you saying his name just like that for years, and he'd never go soft.

"relax for me, baby." he stretches you in gentle, practised movements, head spinning as you obey, body going pliant under his covetous hands. you're so perfect for him, already soft and wet from your earlier stint with your toy. your lips find his weak spot— the tender patch of skin right between the junction of his neck and jaw— and he groans, feeling a little insane as you rock back against his fingers, dripping sweet and sticky like warm honey.

"i can't hold back much longer," he says, voice strangled.

"so don't." your breath catches as the tip of his finger brushes against your sweet spot, so he does it again, just to hear you gasp. he could get lost in this, this pleasure of playing your body like the finest of instruments, pulling sound after needy, dripping sound from your pretty mouth.

"kayn— kayn, please, stop teasing, don't hold back, please, i need you—" the sheer desperation in your voice makes kayn's blood sing with pleasure, and he gently removes his fingers from your aching hole, much to your chagrin. you line up the head of his cock with your entrance, shuddering as it pulses a thick glob of pre-cum over your skin. "inside, inside, please—"

there's nothing quite like the initial stretch of kayn's cock as he bullies his way inside of you. he's so thick, and the way he's got you folded makes him feel even bigger. your jaw hangs slack, every nerve trembling with anticipation.

the tip of his cock nudges inside, and you both let out twin moans. your cunt is hungry for it. desperate, even— your gaze goes hazy and unfocused as your pussy sucks softly at his tip.

"so fucking good," he groans. "how are you so fucking good every time?"

if you could speak, you'd say that you could ask him the same thing, but any semblance of coherent speech is knocked from the forefront of your mind as he eases deeper into you. every additional inch of his hot, throbbing cock only serves to make your mind go blank with pleasure. your eyes roll back, flutter shut.

"fuuuck, that's it, baby. feels good, doesn't it?" kayn shudders as he bottoms out. the very tip of his cock kisses a spot deep inside, so sensitive that it sends a thrill up your spine. "there it is— there's that weak spot. yeah, let me use it against you, baby. 'm gonna fuck all that resistance right out of your pretty hole..."

he rolls his hips once, twice, giving a few deep, experimental thrusts. true to his word, his cock massages over your sweet spot. you can't fight the onslaught of sensation, and even if you could, you wouldn't want to. it's so, so good— too good to resist, too good to fight. pleasure melts your brain, turning every coherent thought you might have had to gooey bliss.

your jaw hangs slack. your head spins. pleasure curls around your limbs, pulling you to new heights of mindless need.

"yeah, that's right. this is what you needed, isn't it?"

you don’t have to reply— the answer is written in the slight crossing of your eyes, the subtle trembling of your ribcage, the thin line of saliva that drips from the corner of your mouth. heat builds in your core, spreading like fire across your skin, and you let loose a long moan.

“kayn…” you struggle to make eye contact, lucidity slipping through your fingers with every devastating thrust.

“no thinking,” he says. his thumb finds your clit. the added stimulation makes it all too easy to obey. any semblance of logical thought dissipates into hazy pleasure. you wouldn’t be surprised if your brain was leaking straight out of your dripping cunt.

“no thinking,” you repeat dumbly, looping your arms around his neck and pulling him close. your fucked-out gaze meets his, and he curses under his breath, cock pulsing inside of you. through it all, he continues rubbing those maddening, mind-melting circles on your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

heat envelopes you, swallows you whole and digests you, transforming you into a being of need and pleasure. your nerves sing with molten arousal. every touch, every breath, every heartbeat only sends you spiraling further and further into the depths of debauchery.

“that’s it, baby, let me make you feel good, yeah, yeah—” kayn babbles, his hips stuttering out of rhythm. it makes his cock slide in that much deeper, makes his thumb slip just right against the hood of your clit, and— and—

you fall apart on his cock with a wail, unable to resist the overwhelming pleasure. it burns through you, sets the stars ablaze behind your eyelids. your sanity shatters as you all but convulse, gorging yourself on decadent sensation.

thick, creamy warmth floods your insides, and you practically purr at the way the tip of kayn’s cock kisses the sensitive mouth of your cervix. he’s still mumbling mindless praises against the soft skin of your neck even as he fucks you through both of your orgasms. his voice takes on an edge of wretched desperation. “so good, so good, it hurts, baby, hurts good, i— i— fuck…”

he collapses over you, sheathing himself balls-deep with a groan. the last dregs of his cum drool from his tip, dribbling over your sensitive walls. your pussy flutters around him in response, hungry for every last drop of him, and he nearly whimpers at the added sensation. pain and pleasure swirl around you in a heady cocktail of hormones as you come down from your highs together.

when kayn kisses you, it feels right— the natural product of the raw desire that connects you. his lips move against yours sweetly, softly, and he holds you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. the afterglow is made for kissing, for heavy petting, for the cooling of sweat and softening of breaths.

"what was that all about?" kayn murmurs in the hazy quiet, pulling you closer to him. you grumble a bit as his soft cock shifts inside of you, threatening to fall out, and he makes a soothing little noise, ignoring the pricks of painful overstimulation and focusing on keeping you nice and warm and full.

"what was what all about?"

"don't play, baby. what had you so needy tonight?"

"...ah." your face heats up, and you bury your nose in his chest. still, it doesn't muffle your next words. "you looked really, really good on stage tonight. i couldn't stop looking at your stupid bulge through your stupid leather pants."

the honestly is unexpected enough to subvert kayn's knee-jerk instinct to be insufferable and smug. he gapes at you. "you're so fucking cute."

“mhm,” you hum in agreement. “and you’re beautiful. so we match.”

there’s a frazzled sort of silence as kayn short-circuits from the praise. for someone who presents with such an inflated ego, his reaction to genuine compliments is nothing short of charming.

"so... the sheets?" you break the silence, only half-joking.

kayn groans. “i’ll wash them tomorrow. let me enjoy this, baby.”

“i’m holding you to it.” you bury your face in his chest, heart melting a bit as his lips brush over the crown of your head. dirty sheets or not, there’s nowhere else you would rather be than here, limbs tangled with his, soaking in your shared pleasure.

tags: @enchantedforest-network @angelshub

#shieda kayn smut #shieda kayn x reader #heartsteel kayn smut #heartsteel kayn x reader #league of legends smut #league of legends x reader #heartsteel smut #heartsteel x reader #writemin!#+kayn

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danikamariewrites · 7 months

Note

Can I ask for Eris x Azreil x reader hurt /comfert where reader comes back after a hard mission and can barely sand from how exhausted they are. But our boys come and help them bath and feed them some food before some comfort snuggles. I feel like I barely see any fluff for this poly or am I just looking in the wrong places?

Autumn and Night

Azris x reader

A/n: now that I’m thinking about it I’m not sure I’ve seen fluff for azris x reader. If anyone knows any fics comment them even if they’re your own (do the shameless self promo babe)

Warnings: tired reader, comfort

As you trudged up the front stairs of the Forest House your shoulders slump remembering the fight your mates got into before you left. Four days ago Eris and Azriel had gotten into another petty argument. You usually played mediator in those scenarios.

This time however, you just left for your mission not wanting to deal with it. Coming back was worse. Your mission was successful, just tiring. You were dirty, tired, and covered in blood. You did stop by whatever river you were walking along to wash what you could off yourself but your would have to wait.

Sentries opened the front doors for you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw one of Eris’s assistants run off to inform him and Azriel that you were home. You didn’t bother following him. You just heard in the other direction towards your chambers.

You didn’t want to know about Eris and Azriel’s fight anymore than you already did. Peace and quiet was what you needed.

Just as you were unlacing your boots a soft knock sounded. Azriel poked his head in timidly. “Hi sweetheart. You ok?” All you did was blink at him with a sad look. You went back to your boots as your two mates quietly entered your room.

Eris stood in front of you, cupping your jaw in his hand, gently forcing you to look up at him. “Let us help you, love.” You didn’t have the energy to fight them, so you let them. Eris kneeled, taking off your boots while Azriel helped you out of your leathers.

While Azriel finished putting your leathers in the laundry Eris ran you a bath. Azriel picked you up, placing you gently in the steaming water. The two work in tandem to get you cleaned up. While Eris scrubbed your skin clean Azriel gently washed your hair. You leaned into his touch as he washed a second time as a silent thank you.

Waves of calm came from both of them, helping you relax and sink further into the water. Once the water was cold and murky Eris pulled you out while Azriel wrapped you in a towel. “Thank you,” you whispered. They each kissed a side of your head.

After you dried yourself you threw on one of Eris’s sleep shirts and flopped face down on the bed. You felt the bed dip next to you with the weight of one of your mates. You flip over to look up at Azriel, your eyes half lidded with exhaustion. Azriel slowly pushed a strand of damp hair from your face.

“Do you want something to eat?” You nod against the covers and your stomach grumbles. After days of having bread and catching your own food you were craving a good meal. Eris climbed on the bed to leave a small kiss on your forehead before heading to the kitchen.

In Eris’s absence you were oddly quiet towards Azriel. He gave you a concerned look, reaching out gently down the bond to read your mood. “Oh y/n/n, don’t worry about me and Eris. I’m sorry you went all week feeling that way, but we fixed things. So don’t worry your pretty little head ok?”

“Ok Az.” You give him a tired smile which he returns. Azriel scoops you up in his arms pulling you to rest on his chest. You snuggled into him, happy to be wrapped in his warmth again.

Eris came back into the room holding a plate with roast chicken, some vegetables, and a glass of water. You sat up between Azriel’s legs holding your hands out for the plate, “Thank you Er, this smells amazing.”

“Uh-uh,” the High Lord smirks at you, “you look like your too tired to hold your own head up never mind a fork. Let me feed you.” You gave Eris an exasperated look which he met with his own pointed look. Azriel leaned into you, wrapping his arms around your middle to hold you to him so you can relax.

“Fine.” You huff out, not so secretly glad that your mates are so willing to take care of you. At the first bite of real food you moan at the taste. Both males quietly laughed at your reaction as Eris kept feeding you dinner.

Once your plate was empty you leaned back into Azriel as he laid you down on the bed, spooning you. Eris laid in front of you gently running a warm finger across your forehead. Your eyes fluttered shut at the loving touch. “Sleep, sweetheart. You deserve it.”

You let out a small sigh in agreement. Even though these two stubborn males drive you crazy, you never wanted to leave them again.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris acotar #eris vanserra acotar #acotar eris #high lord eris #eris x reader #eris vanserra fic #eris x you #azris x reader #Azris x you

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prettyboypistol · 5 months

Text

TF2 Mercs x M!Reader || How the Mercs Jerk Off +18

minors dni and get blocked

ambiguous genitals for Pyro

Scout

The stereotypical setup of "makes a night of it" sometimes only to end up frantically fucking his fist 10 minutes later as he gasps out your name breathlessly.

Most of the time though his man is a horny mess. Sneaks off to jack off frequently (like 2/month).

Has jerked off in the showers before but prefers his bedroom to relieve himself.

HUUUGE on fantasies. Always talking to himself and imagining you in various ways. His favorite is imagining you blowing him.

Usually lasts a short amount of time, but can recover extremely quickly.

Pyro

Oh. My. God. This is the HORNIEST mf alive when they're lucid. Yeah, they're a little awkward about how close they get to you, but everyone shrugs it off as them being socially unaware.

You smell so amazing to them, the smell of you looks so pretty to them in their head because of their synesthesia. Has embarrassingly gotten off to the colors and feeling of your voice and smell.

Your voice is a calming purple to them with a gentle rumbling against the bottom of their mind, the sound feels a sort of comfortable chilling ironically.

They refuse to do anything outside of their safe space- hell, considering that nobody even knows if Pyro needs to jerk off-

It HAS to be: right vibes, 3 am, locked door, calming smell candles, windows shut, etc etc

Soldier

Has a love/hate relationship with jerking off, he sees it as manly and masculine to release urges, but also weak to indulge himself in base desires.

A manly man thinking of another manly man like yourself? Well technically that's twice the amount of men. At first he assumed he was jealous of your physique, but then he drempt of you on top of him right about to push your-BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEEEEEP 0600 SOLDIER TIME TO WORK

Awkward boners are his specialty, excusing himself to "go oversee the maggots" when you flex a particularily nice deadlift.

Less private than Pyro but still prefers a more private setting like in the woods, a bathroom stall, or just a spot he deemed far away enough from everyone else.

Most embarrassed about wet dreams where he can actually get off in his dreams, deeming that day "surprise laundry inspection/washing day"

Demo

He's pretty lax about jerking off to be honest, has probably drunkenly teased you about you should be careful about how often you keep your shirt off.

"Ey laddie, careful showin' those pecs around! Cannae imagine you'd like a man eyein' those tits of yours!" Of course it was a joke, you two were close like that. of course he was just teasing you.

Oh god he wanted to fuck your pecs. Unabashedly staring at your chest he imagined how nice his dick would look in-between your pecs, maybe scrunched against a tight wifebeater too oh fuck-

Reletively respectful of everyone's decentcy and only relieves himself either in his room or in the empty showers at 4 in the morning. He's probably only been caught once but never agains after that.

Cums a lot, that's why he prefers the shower wanks to quickly wash away the evidence.

Engie

This man is so fucking ashamed of touching himself to thoughts of you- much like he would be about thinking of anyone. He's got such a huge shame surrounding the whole thing but the evil voice in his head only made him strangely harder.

He imagined you wakling in on him as he whispered out your name and you shaming him as you slide up behind him as your hand wraps around his jerking him off all while telling him just how much of a pervert he is.

This man has the biggest undiscovered humiliation kink god it's so fucking pathetic (i deeply desire him)

Has jerked off in his workshop multiple times with the door deadbolted shut and a drill running to hide what he's doing.

Honestly prefers the feel of vaseline/nonsexy lube on his dick and it's a lot less suspicious to have that around.

Heavy

Doesn't often feel the need due to how high alert he is.

When Heavy is at ease he's more bearlike and chill rather than a hotblooded, horny-brained mess. When he does actually touch himself, he is extremely quiet in his bedroom and quick about the whole ordeal.

Has a nasty "habit" of thinking of you. He assumes it's because you're actually nice to him and he's not been around a woman in god knows how long. You're not womanly-like in the slightest but Heavy likes to think about his hands on your hips as he makes you whine.

Feels a stinging sense of guilt afterwards but generally shrugs the feeling off. It's not really such a bad thing if he keeps it to himself and keeps everything professional, right?

Sniper

I wrote a fic about how I generally feel Sniper jerks it here but I'll rephrase it here as a TLDR

This man is really fucking weird about jerking off to you. He HAS stolen something of yours to smell and fantasize with and if given the chance he WILL steal again.

HUGE scent kink and voyeur/creeping kink kind of like Engie in a way where he wants you to call him out on his bullshit.

Probably the most unprofessional about it. He has fondled himself as he watched you through his scope during battle and he will do it again.

Pretty quick ordeal overall to keep himself sane. He jacks off often and quickly to keep a baseline sense of sanity (pre-nut insanity is a thing and his diagnosis is terminal RIP)

Medic

Honestly I headcanon Medic not feeling a need to masturbate. His lust for you oozes out in his operations in some sort of gorey satisfaction in operations on the team. (think like, the taboo passion of physically rearranging someone's guts gets him off in a weird way.)

This isn't to say he gets sexually aroused by his experiments, it's just that the excitement of the thrills get cross-wired in his brain. When you drop your shirt on the floor to prep for an operation his dick twitches in his pants but that's literally it.

Flirts with you on the operating table <3

The only time he's actually masturbated is for experiements. (One was if he could create life without an egg and the second was to see how much cum could a healthy man extract out of him.)

Spy

This man is so hoity-toity about getting off it's almost a pain to write. It's an actual whole night for him. It starts with a nice bath with oils more expensive than your paycheck, then a professional massage, then a calming cigarette mixed with some top-grade cannabis in either a blunt or in a nice dessert. THEN FINALLY he lays himself down onto his pretty little bed and fucks himself.

And even then Spy has a routine to jerking off to really indulge himself. He starts slow and gentle with teasing touches that go lower and lower until he's strained against the fluffy bathrobe he is cuddled in.

Imagines you riding him a lot, but if he's in the mood to bottom, he slowly fucks himself with a pretty nice vibrator as he imagines you fucking him as your dick brushed against his prostate in the most delicious of ways.

This man is convinced that every other merc assumed that he gets too many bitches to need to masturbate and he fully intends to keep that assumption alive and well.

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stargazing15 · 2 years

Text

Mister grumpy chicken

Rooster x Wife reader & baby Nick

Warnings: you’re having a fight, very tired parents, will get fluffy

Enjoy!

***

It was one those days, or rather weeks. Nick hasn’t been sleeping well for over a week, due to teething, a growth spurt and he learned something new. The first night Bradley was still home but just as most nights he didn’t hear Nick crying, so it came all down on you and as of the next day he stayed at base for the rest of the week due to training. If you got lucky you got 4 hours of sleep in total. Once you held Nick in your arms he calmed down quickly, but getting him back in his bed was not that easy and before you knew it your alarm went off, again. This was your whole workweek, getting up early to take Nick to daycare, going to work, rushing back to daycare, taking Nick to the supermarket with you, getting back home to feed Nick, doing the laundry and trying to play with Nick in between, bathing him every other day, putting him in bed, cooking food for yourself if you didn’t forget, taking the laundry out of the washing machine, clear away Nick’s toys which are shattered all over the floor and by that time it was also time for you to get in bed. And the next day it was the same all over again, since some coworkers called in sick, you drowned in work and didn’t even have the time for some small talk at work.

You didn’t know how you managed to survive this hell week, but you sure looked and felt like a zombie. And just like that it was Friday, you didn’t work on Fridays so could take care of Nick since daycare was pretty expensive. Even though Nick had been playing well and had slept a bit, he started getting fuzzy knowing his dad would get home today. But as it eventually got 5 pm, Bradley still wasn’t home, so you send him a text with a picture of Nick saying he misses his dad.

After putting Nick to sleep at 7 pm, you finally heard the front door open when you almost felt asleep on the couch.

“Bradley, babe?” You got no answer as he walked right past you straight to the bathroom. With all your heart you wanted to join him, but you had no energy left so you dragged yourself to the bedroom letting yourself fall on the bed, still wearing your clothes.

You got waken abruptly by getting poked in your side. “Nick’s awake, you go, I’m tired.” Bradley mumbled, you lifted your head up to look at your alarm clock, 20:25, time hadn't really passed and you were still wearing your jeans.

“Bradley, can’t you please check on him for once, I apparently still need to change, and I haven’t slept we-“ before you got the chance to end you sentence, Bradley interrupted. “I’m the one who has been working hard this week and we had night flights, so believe me I am the one who’s tired! I’m gonna sleep on base, at least it’s quiet there!” He almost screamed at you, hearing his daddy yell resulted in Nick crying even harder.

“Bradley, please stay, Nick…” You tried to reason him with tears rolling down you face, but he had already taken his bag and left. “I can’t do this alone” you whispered to yourself.

You were able to calm Nick down for a minute, but he felt you were tense and started wiggling and whining in your arms. You didn’t want to bother anyone, but for both your and Nick’s sake you needed someone to help you out.

“Please, pick up” you whispered in the phone with tears falling down on your cheeks.

“Y/N? Hey! How’s everyt-”

“Nat, can you please come over?” You interrupted her, “I can’t do it, Bradley… and Nick’s been having a hard time. Ssshhhh Nick, everything will be alright.” You sobbed and tried to coo Nick at the same time.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m on my way, tell me what happened.” As Natasha kept the line open during her ride over, you were able to tell her what happened. It felt good, finally able to talk to someone, so good that she arrived earlier than you expected.

“Woah, girl you look like shit.”

“Thanks," it was a complement compared to how you felt "can you take Nick over for a minute?” You asked while handing him over.

“Yes of course, I’ll try putting him in bed, you go take a shower, I think you might need one.” She was right, the hot water helped your muscles finally relax and for the first time this week and your head was just empty, no thoughts, no worries, just the sound of water.

When you got back to your bedroom to put your clothes away, Natasha joined you.

“I called Jake, he was busy chasing a nurse, so he’s still on base, Bradley arrived safely and was one ray of sunshine, I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s the matter with him today, but Jake’s gonna kick his ass in the morning.” She smiled.

“Nat, you’re one hell of friend, I’m so thankful you took me in as part of that big idiot family.”

“Hey, I’m the one who’s thankful, now I’m not the only girl anymore.” She said while hugging you, as you melted in her hug, she noticed your loneliness. “Do you want me to stay?” You nodded. “I don’t think mister grumpy chicken will mind that I take his place for the night.”

“Mister grumpy chicken” this was the first time this week you genuinely laughed. “I’m gonna change his name in my contacts to that. And I’m in for a girls-only sleepover, and Nick of course.” It was the first time this week that Nick has finally slept through the night, so did you. When you woke up and saw it was already 9 am, you hysterically ran to Nick’s room to find it empty, relieve washed over you when you heard his little squeals echo from the living room.

“I think a good night of sleep did wonders to the two of you, you look a lot better. Nick’s already been fed and playing like his life depends on it.”

“Thanks Nat. You’re the best!” You ran over to hear to give her a big, warm hug and immediately got interrupted by a giggling Nick. “Good morning to you too, come here.” You said while picking him up. “Nat, did you… did you hear something from Bradley?”

“Oh yes, Jake has had some fun already, he bunked with Bradley on base and Bradley is really regretting yesterday. He’s expecting you at the beach. Nick stays with me, we still have a lot to discuss, ain’t that right Nick?” You heard Nick answer with one of his cute “bababababa’s” “See, we’ll be okay? Would you mind if Bob came over? He misses this little goofball too.”

“No problem, I think Nick would love it, he adores uncle Bob.”

Since it was not that warm anymore, you put on jeans that hugged your waist nicely, a cute top and one of Bradley’s sweaters. When you arrived at the beach you got a text from Bradley where to meet him. Instantly your face lit up when you saw his new screen you had given him yesterday evening.

Grumpy chicken: look up and you’ll see me

When you looked at the beach, you couldn’t miss him. There he stood with a bouquet of red roses in one hand and a couple of fluffy blankets in the other one. Seeing him like this you got flooded with memories from the time you met him, feeling the butterflies all over again.

“Hi baby.” You said while joining him. He quickly kissed you, letting you know everything was alright now.

“Hi sweetie, I’m so sorry I was selfish yesterday. I, uh, got you these.” He said while he gave the roses.

“Thank you, but I rather have one of those” while pointing at the fluffy blankets “and you to join me.”

“Oh my god, sorry, forgot, come here. You look good in my sweater.” You joined him on the sand, getting wrapped up together in one of the blankets, mumbling a small ‘thanks’. It felt nice, your body touching his, nuzzling your head in his neck, feeling his arm wrap around your shoulder, getting warm inside just from being with each other.

“I’m sor-” “Shhh” you interrupted him. “Let’s just enjoy this.” You took his right hand that was wrapped around your shoulder in you right so your rings would touch. He got the message and kissed the top of your head, the two of you staying silent like this for a while enjoying each other’s presence and the sound of the waves, forgetting what happened yesterday.

“Can I still apologise?”

“Yeah now is okay.”

“I’m really sorry for my behaviour sweetie. You sacrificed already so much for us and I was just a dick to you, sorry I didn’t look at you and noticed how you were, Jake told me after Phoenix called this morning, he made me regret it with a cold water alarm.”

“You kinda deserved that,” you tried to imagine Hangman living his best life by doing such stunts, “it’s okay now, I should have let you know how bad the week has been, maybe we should get a babysitter more often so we can have some more us-time. We still need to learn, but that’s part of being parents now.”

“I’m so lucky with you, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You felt your phone go off, receiving an update from Phoenix and Bob. “Must be Nat.” You said while taking your phone, just then remembering you hadn’t opened your text from Bradley so it was sill visible on your lock screen.

“Who’s grumpy chicken?” You couldn’t help but giggle at the memory last night.

“You, you’re my grumpy chicken.”

“Seeing it makes you smile, I don’t mind it.”

#bradley bradshaw #rooster #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster fluff #rooster fanfic #rooster angst #rooster imagine #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction

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