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kaizynofsickness · 20 days

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Wolf Sukuna x bunny reader

Synopsis: cuteness and innocence comes with a consequence when you're just such a petite small bunny doing dumb childish activities at the dead of night, happening to attract some wolf in need

Warning: female reader, predator and pray play, wolf Sukuna, bunny reader, oblivious reader, dacryphilla, public sex (in a forest), manhandling, fingering, reader squirting for the first time, unprotected sex, non-con, slight chasing goin' on, yandere-ish vibes (he find himself needing you), hardcore, breeding kink, slight spanking, lots of tail/ear pulling, degrading (dumb bunny/rabbit, whore bunny, slutty girl) praising too (good girl, atta girl, cutie), true form Sukuna, two cocks, double penetration (anal & cunt), SIZE DIF (he's 7'6", u cant beat him) Sukuna is a bit soft at the end. Sex with plot (?) MDNI, I will block you!!

A/N: this idea has been rotting me, does anyone else do hybrid Sukuna? Just me? Damn... My warning list is long ASF. Lazy/half proof read.

"one, two... Oh, three!" You count out how many flowers you could find buried in the thick layers of snow, picking out nearly dead ones. It was getting dark, yet you wanted a new collect of your 'snow flowers' that you did every time it snowed. You never missed a season since you were 17, so why start now at 20?

The flowers soon start to lessen and so does the light around the forest, leaving everything dark. A pout tugs at your lips as your bunny ears perk up, alert all the sudden as darkness consumes the night. Your eyes darted to every possible corner inside of the small snowy forest—maybe you were a tad bit scared of the dark, more like what hides inside of the shadows. You decide to call it quits, getting off of your knees and brushing the little bit of snow that was covering on your puffy white coat that was down to your thighs. You waddled around the snow, grabbing your new collection of flowers that survived with a smile.

You give the sun one more wave, as night fallen completely. You watch the light shrink until you really didn't wanna be in the dark no more, a little hop in your step as you trailed down the snowy path.

You had a right to fear what was happening in the darkness...

The wolf who had been watching you this whole time, grab-able bunny ears and a cute little cotton tail he could just yank you by wiggling around, how goofy yet cute you looked in that puffy coat, scarf over your face. He licked over his complex set of fangs, lust filled his thoughts and caused his dick to stiffen, all four eyes on you.

Ryomen Sukuna, he was called, steps out the shadows that you childishly feared, watching the small footprints and stepping over them with his own, seeing how he covers the whole space. You're so small. He could just—

He creeps up closer to you as you examine your flowers, lazily tossing the ones you don't like, cotton tail mindlessly twitching under that coat. He only had on an all black kimono with a rusted red color cloak over, walking in socks and flip flops, you dressed for some fashion show. You didn't even notice the sounds of breathing getting louder, nor did you hear the soft sounds of snow behind you getting crushed.

Dumb rabbit, he snickers to himself.

It took you a while to finally pick up something, your nose twitching and ears perking up again, bobbing slightly. You turn around to see not a soul behind you. You look in the trees; bare, nothing to hide. At least from what you can see. You shrug it off for now thinking it maybe was another bunny, or a birdie.

Sukuna wasn't even phased or worried you'd catch him, folding his four arms over his bulky build with confidence that he has hidden himself well enough to keep an eye on you. You, his future sex toy and minx.

You kept hearing the sounds more after that little conflict, turning around faster. This time, your eyebrows knitted together. You glance around again, gripping your flowers in your small hands. You turn around back to your destination, walking a bit faster.

He couldn't help but notice it. You might've noticed you were being watched or followed. He speeds up with you, matching your stride in the mask of the dark woods. The sounds mingle with yours, side eyeing every tree and bush to check anxiously. The idea of being followed made you pout.

The one time you stay out as the sun set, this happens.

You speed up a little more, sweating a bit even in the cold breeze and snow around. You now feel something dangerous near you, you can easily feel someone is near you, and it doesn't sit well. Like whoever—whatever is following you wants you to know that it's here. And oh, he does now want you to know, that fear makes you look so delicious, and not like he would normally look at prey.

He might wanna eat you in a whole different way that will last and effect you over and over.

"h-hey!" You meekly shout out, stuttering stupidly and taking a cowardice stance, looking so adorable scared, ears pressed down on your head. What were you shouting at? No idea. Where were you shouting to? Also no idea. You just wanted to hear someone.

You would be dumb to say 'is someone there' as there just had to be, eyes dewy as you scan the area. You grip your flowers. A faint growl, or laugh, echos from the forest behind the trees, somewhere in there. It sounded deep, grouchy, and... Soothing. Now you know someone is in there, your fear spikes. Someone was following you, just an innocent bunny with a passion for flowers in the snow.

"little bunny," a tall and dark figure emerges from the dark, and what immediately catches your attention is the four arms, many marks and odd lines across his face and wrist (what you can see) of the man.

Man? No, no, no. You gave it another look, seeing the bushy and huggable, large pink tail swooshing behind him, spiky ears at attention as four eyes gaze deep into you. The way he looks makes you shiver alone. You back away out of instinct, not that stupid to be oblivious to ths clear situation that this was a predator in front of you, you—the most common prey. His emotionless stare finally turns into something, something sinister. He smirks at you, raising an eyebrow with his arms (all of them) folded over his chest.

Your eyes widen while you stare, your cotton tail being your biggest give away with how it trembles. You drop your flowers.

"strip." His voice booms in the night forest, keeping his mocking eyes on your fretful small figure.

What? Did he just— "huh...?" You manage to stagger out words. He told you to strip? You don't even know his name. You're an innocent rabbit, that's what you're known for, right? Why would he want to play around with you?

Sukuna finds no amusement in your questioning and why you're not moving that small body. "I said strip. Get naked."

You dumbfoundedly blink. "but I don't know y—a-ahhh!"

Your protest were cut off by the swift movement of one of his large hands going to yank you near him with your bunny ears, making them stand up. The sound you made cause his cock to stir and leak, never getting so turned on by any hybrid, let alone a weak bunny. But you were so cute. He bends down to your height, claws starting to tear your coats buttons. "I'm Sukuna, bunny. Let me know your name and let's get this out the way so I could start breeding you."

Breeding you? Him, breeding you? He was so tall and big compared to you, a dainty and petite little creature, and you never been bred before.

"n-no, let go of me!" You try to move your hands to grab his large ones tugging at your ears, but you forgot he has another pair of arms, one gripping both your wrist and using them to yank you into the cold snow. You wince when your bum makes contact with the cold ground, cotton tail buried into your coat and snow.

"I thought I asked for your name, dumb rabbit." He says while shredding your coat, making you gasp as your skin comes in contact with the cold airy snow, shivering.

You stutter out your name feebly over the feeling of the cold. He yanks off your legs warmers and scarf, at least neatly pulling down your panties and unclipping your bra. "Are you cold, cutie?" He whispers into your ear, pressing your body onto his heat. You nod into the strangers chest, feeling his clothes against your naked body.

Sukuna removes his cloak and wraps it around you, the thing like a blanket. You blink up at him, lashes coated with sweet unleashed tears. He chuckles at the sight of your dewy eyes, pouty soft lips and weak state. The power dynamic he feels... is so intoxicating. Oh, he's never been harder.

He abruptly flips you, making you go on all fours. If it wasn't for the cloak, you would've felt the cold snow way easier and it would hurt at some point. "Please... Let me go—" you get cut off again, squealing when he lifts your ass up by your cotton tail, you lower body off the ground while your top is still in contact. It stings slightly... "S-Sukuna!" You whimper.

Sukuna tilts his head at a 90 degree angel, examining your pussy after lifting his cloak up. "You don't mean it. You're a creamy mess. Please." He mocks you, landing a very aggressive hit on your right ass cheek. The impact immediately leaves large red handprint, making those unshed tears start to roll out your eyes. Sukuna smiles at the victory of making you start squealing and squirming.

He lets you go from your tail, knees landing on the ground with a thud. "You're such a whore bunny." He tsk. "Can you at least take two cocks?"

That wasn't a question. That was like a warning.

"t-two?" You stutter, baffled.

That's when you feel a small poke on your thigh and one near your exposed and wet pussy. Oh God, you knew he wasn't human, but is he even a hybrid? "Did I stutter? Who cares, you'll handle me if I'm fucking you, heh." He sadistically chuckles.

He keeps you in the position, having your back arched for him. His tail sways at the sight with a smirk of your ass, red from little smacks and pussy wet and messy. He rubs the tip of his thick fingers rub against your slit, playing with your folds. You whimper from the sudden touch, yet wiggle your hips away. He wasn't having any of that, "keep still, you whore bunny." He barks out the order, glaring at you, even if you can't see how cold his four eyes are on you, you can feel the heat of them.

He has his way with your sweet pussy, rubbing your clit until two fingers sunk into your hole, stretching deep in and feeling around to see if he'll hit a spot to purposefully make you scream. He starts to curl his fingers near your g-spot, teasing you. You push your hips back only to find how he uses one of his four arms to ground you. You whine, sounding frustrated, but know better than to be bratty from how he spanked you.

Sukuna begins to pump his fingers faster, kneeling down and watching how wet his palm is becoming, watching the creamy liquid coat his two digits. He barely gives you time to adjust before he puts another finger into you, trying to stretch you out but get an orgasm out of you.

"o-oh, fuck, right there, yes yes, touch m-" your eyes roll back, back dramatically arched yet so perfect for him. He cocks an eyebrow and starts to go faster, the inhuman pace making the nastiest of sounds you can't believe it's your pussy squelching like that.

"oh, so you do like it?" He scoffs, almost speaking in differently from your little fit. He watches as your wetness soaked him and listened to the sounds of 'pat, pat, pat!!' and lewd swishing sounds.

"m' gonna, gonna c-cum! M' cumming—" You babble on uselessly until you cream around his skilled fingers, the milky liquid making a mess, the cloak below you now getting a taste of your arousal. Sukuna watches you unravel under him, your toes curling and legs jolting, struggling to keep that pretty arch.

"atta girl, such a pretty mess."

He gives you no time to readjust to relaxing from your recent orgasm, he already positioned himself behind you, sitting on his knees.

Sukuna quickly begins to stroke his cock lazily, leaving his second cock neglected for now. He only presses his tip against your cunt.

You find yourself with your back forcefully arched by one large hand pressing you down, face in his cloak, feeling his wet tip teasing your cunt and sliding to meet your clit. Every touch makes you jolt, tears still coming. "'kuna..." you sob uselessly, gripping the cloak below you. Your cotton tail twitches with every smack he lands on your ass, making it red and marked his. He snickers before leaning his crushing weight onto you, voice in your ear. "What is it, bunny?" He flashes his sharp fangs, grazing your shoulder.

"gimmie..."

The simple word let's him know what you mean. He leaned back, a throaty and degrading laugh rumbling in his chest. "You were begging for me to stop, right? Now someone can't wait for it?"

Despite his words and acting like he wasn't going to give you what you wanted, he lazily strokes his cock before he angles it up with your awaiting cunt. For all of his rough manhandling and groping, he was actually trying to make sure his tip could at least sink in before he started to completely ruin you. He could hear the sounds of you struggling, which honestly only disappointed him because he wasn't even using any force. Was he going to have to baby you?

Finally, he gets to sink half of his length inside of that sticky and warm mess, groaning at the satisfaction of feeling you around him. You were so tiny and tight, it was a perfect combination for someone like him who just wanted his cock to be strangled by the perfect cunt.

Your thighs quiver, the new feeling of some monstrous size deep inside. You never had it this good, pussy so full of cock your juices dripped out because there was no room. Your eyes shut, trying to stop your cunt from fluttering deliciously around him.

"wan' it?" He asks teasingly, more like tormenting, grabbing a good amount of flesh from your plump ass. You nod frantically, wanted to see what it feels like to have someone this big, let alone have two cocks this big. Your answer doesn't surprise him much, it only took a few minutes and you were already on his side. "Then work for it. Fuck yourself on my cock."

You whined into the cloak, feeling hot and sweaty besides the cold weather outside. You slowly shifted your body forward, rocking against the ground and your knees, making his cock pop out. You back it up on him, feeling him hit your cervix as he sinks into your inviting pussy once again. You couldn't help but moan and shudder every time you could feel your cervix being threatened to be broken.

You took advantage of this small moment of control, making sure you moved your hips slowly off of his cock, a small sticky coating sound filling your ears with more possible lewd thoughts. You needed time to adjust.

Sukuna groans, feeling proud of you. He playfully tapped your ass with a smirk, watching your body rock back and forth against his cock. "Atta girl, fuck, you got it." He taps your ass more, loving how it jiggles and all the redness left over from his spankings.

You continue to fuck yourself into him like a toy, but you were going slowly. It was all too big, you could feel him so wrongly. It was absolutely sinful. It felt raw, so raw that it burnt if you made his cock stroke your insides wrong.

He groans again, but this time it was because he was frustrated. Why did you have to go so slow?

"Can't you speed up?" His hands travel up to the back of your neck, his middle finger pressing hard against your nape. Your ears fold down to your skull again, and you could tell this groan wasn't something good. You try to turn your head to look back at him, the way you pout and look for validation for your work was so cute. The way your ears will shrink down because he sounded disappointed, how your cotton tail was moving.

"I knew I shouldn't leave things to slutty rabbit like you." He places two hands on your hips. He snaps his hips forward into yours, causing your body to lifelessly bounce forward from his force.

"N-ngh, hmph!" You muffle your moans, your eyes finally opening once again as you feel the pleasure and pain.

Sukuna grinned at the sight, not wasting any time to finally get his second dick wet. He grabbed his other cock and quickly spreaded his precum all over the length of him before he was able to slide into your anus without any warning. The double penetration left you moaning, sobbing, and whimpering. You tried to move your hips away from him, feeling as his thrust slowly started to get more aggressive.

"Nuh-uh, bunny. Stay here, be a good girl." he delivers another painful smack against your ass for trying to run away from his cock, literally.

Your body kept jolting forward with every calculated and painful thrust of his cock deep inside, stroking your G-spot repetitively, making you see stars. You tried to grip onto the cloak below you, desperately needing something to hold for comfort. You couldn't help but feel so weak, you had a monster above you. You were just a tiny little bunny.

"s-slow doowwnn..." you whine, raising your head up so your voice could be heard, even if most of it was just incohesive noise and moaning, blabbers of his name like a chant.

Your request fall to deaf ears. He was too engrossed with how amazing your cunt was sucking him back in, your anus, and the view of such a tiny little bunny below him.

You feel a familiar knot building up inside of your stomach, and you can feel yourself slowly starting to ruin your perfect arch. Again, it was like you were trying to run away from the cocks. Your anus felt so full, you never had anything up there, not even your own fingers. You never knew how amazing good feel to have two holes occupied.

There was just one difference.

It felt so much more intense than a normal orgasm. You couldn't tell what was going to happen, for a second you felt like you had to pee. Your cunt started to spasm aggressively; never had Sukuna felt someone so eager to cum (unless it was rut season), and he fucked many hybrids.

You couldn't even process any words, no sort of warning came out. The only thing that did come out was a long gush of clear, sticky liquid absolutely ruining his happy trail and pelvis. Oh, and his cock? Soaked.

His eyes widen in shock, yet he was so proud of you in his own twisted ways. He rubbed over your sore ass, a smile if that was almost full of disbelief that you just squirted all over him like that. "You just squirted on me, slutty girl."

He most definitely has to make fun of you.

"little messy bunny, pussy just felt so good had to tap out?"

You find a good grip onto the cloak below you that was now soaked in your squirt. Your little cunnie continued to pleasure his cock, your very inexperienced anus getting abused, mind just full of his name and his cock, your sensitive body going crazy, making your toes curl. Your bunny ears perk up, voice desperate as you keep trying to run away from his cock—

"you can't just stay fuckin' still?" He growls and presses his hand hard on your back, breaking your arch and making your knees fumble, having you pressed flushed against the cloak, the cold ground more evident to your skin. He leans his weight over you, cocks still finding a way to work into both holes.

"'kuna, p-please, no—no more, no more..." you cry out, rosey and cute cheeks stained with tears.

"sh, just take my cocks. Take 'em, cum all over me." His tone almost changed and he gazed at how helpless you look, feeling an urge to... Bite you. He leaned more of his weight on top of you, making your eyes shot open—how close can he get? His fluffy tail comes around and wraps you up near him, fur tickling your sides. He allows his tail to slip under your body—he lifted you up real quick—and held you close.

He fucked into you with more focus now, focused on you. Those moans and how you were so small under him, he felt the power and the urge to bite you, make you cry, cream, squirt, beg, to protect you... Yeah, he wants you. So bad.

Sukuna growls lowly, his breathing becoming more heavy, what you can only assume as a sign he's close to cumming. He stiffens his cocks into both your holes, filling them both at the same time, his steamy seed flowing in white ropes in you, making you shudder. He filled you deep; his plans to breed you to keep you closer to him.

You limped like a doll on the cloak, naked and cummed stuffed in you. Sukuna's large hand runs down your body and grabs you cotton tail again, lifting your ass up, your lower body propped up for his eyes. You didn't even make much of a fuss, only muttering "m' so full 'kuna..."

He watches his cum leaking out your two used holes, seeing how much he stretched them out from his ministrations. He unwraps his tail from your body, which was once warm and the cold air ruined it, and he pulled you to him. He grabbed his cloak, your juices all over it, and wrapped it around your nude body.

"you enjoyed it? See, now all that fuckin' fighting was useless." He coos as he walked you away from the sex scene, his cum trailing down your thighs and dripping in the snow. All you do is nod on response, nuzzling into his chest. He looks down at your lazy state, looking fucked out after all of that fun.

"you'll come with me bunny. I'll eat my cum out at my place."

˚꩜⋆.°⭑Do not copy, translate, or steal in any way, reblogs are appreciated and allowed

Should I make this a series? I wanna start a series so baaad

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna smut #sukuna x you #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #ryomen smut #ryomen x you #hybrid #bunny girl #wolf boy #subby bunny #kaizyn drabble

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milqueandsugar · 1 month

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🌼☕` Wearing His Clothes`☕🌼

Gen / Fluff

Includes / Alastor , Lucifer

| ALASTOR |

If Alastor could spend every evening like this, he would. A warm hellish day, a pleasant breeze that made the usual sulphuric smell that lingered in the air tolerable, and most of all, you by his side. The scarlet parasol you carried over your shoulder sifted the dying rays of the sun into a glorious red. If Alastor could devour an image he'd have this walk on a plate.

"Have I ever mentioned how marvelous you are in red?" The static of his voice crackled to life, so did the blood in your cheeks. "Very, very often." You tease, his grin widens. "Oh so not nearly enough."

You were working up a come back when something heavy dropped onto your shoulders. It smelled of chicory and black coffee, it smelled of Alastor. You poked your head up out of a collar, his collar. You stared up at your lover who twirled the parasol you must have dropped in hid hand. Spinning the red refracted light around the both if you like a kelidoscope.

"You are darling in red, I'll have to ring up Rosie to get you one of your own."

"Matching outfits Alastor? Tattoos next?"

"I was thinking rings, but by the by."

Alastor is definitely a possessive character but I don't think that translates at all to you wearing his clothes

He's actually quite protective of them, he's as particular as he is possessive and it has to be some sort of gesture for him to lend it to you

He especially holds off on lending clothes to you if you make it know you like it, just for teasing purposes of course!

He only truly lends you his bow tie or jacket and only, of course, on his terms

He finds it endearing, how flattered or excited you are at something as simple as a coat, though he holds this little secret close to his chest

It's not as fun if you can tease him back!

Due to his more animalistic tendencies/physicality he is particularly sensitive to smell

If you REALLY want to rile him up use his cologne or soap, it might take a day or two but it's impossible not to notice his increase in physical affection

Once he registers that wearing his clothes is another, far more subtle way of having you smell like him he'll be far more generous with lending you garments.

| LUCIFER |

Every few months you cleaned out the closet, Lucifer liked to buy things, you liked to wear things, both of you were terrible for over filling your closet. He was out for a day out with Charlie, which made things easier. You loved him truly but he made tossing things out difficult, it was too pretty or to cute, to sexy for him to part with. He wasn't wrong, he had an excellent eye for picking clothes you liked, but at this rate you'd need to buy a new home to accommodate for the mass amounts of clothes!

It was when putting the keeps back when you noticed it, his hat. A hat you both loved and hated, the golden snake around its brim gleaned in the light. You snatched it from the shelf at the top of the closet. Your surprised he didn't bring it today, he wore it always, especially when with Charlie. You wondered if she liked it, or if she liked it when she was a kid and bright colours were like moths to light.

You step over to stand in front of the floor length mirror. It felt like a normal hat, of beautiful craftsmanship of course, but just a normal hat. You couldn't see why he was obsessed with the thing. You felt a little silly wearing it, you felt even sillier when a snort sounded from behind you.

"Oh so that's where my hat went"

He thinks it's cute!!

He's confident so he doesn't see any real need to mark or claim you, he knows he loved you, and he knows you love him just as much!

Absolutely pleased to lend you clothes!

If it becomes a habit of yours he even goes out of his way to pick up clothes he thinks both of you will like

Turns into a fun shopping activity!

Be fully prepared for him to start stealing your clothes too though this is a two way street

Maybe it's for the best too he's got no style let's be honest

Absolutely tortures you if he discovers you think it's hot, wears your clothes out, wears your clothes in private, when your on a date

Good luck, they're pretty much his now

No hiding if you dress more feminely either he's not afraid of rocking a mini skirt

The act itself doesn't do anything but seeing you so excited about it?? That does it for him

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #lucifer x y/n #lucifer imagine #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you

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eupheme · 1 year

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— renegade

joel miller x f!reader

rated E - 3k words

tags - light angst, established situationship, nightmares, mutual yearning, lots of pretending, soft!dom Joel, restraints, face fucking, fingering, PiV

a/n - inspired by ‘renegade’ by big red machine

“Is this why you’re here?” Joel asks you, shifting his hips, pushing himself deeper into your fist. His voice rough with sleep, the sound making you squirm behind him.

It was easy to pretend it was.

That it was just physical. Fucking the nightmares from your head - that it could be anyone else burying themselves inside you, and the outcome would be the same.

You sleep better here. Anything is better than a night spent alone in the room that isn’t yours, and never will be. Nightmares find you there - seeking out your sorrow, draining you dry.

When it becomes too much, as it often does, you go to him. Going out into the night, slipping like a ghost into the shadows.

Finding the familiar way to inside - finally able to breathe again when the window slides shut with a click. When you’re curled in his bed, the blankets pulled over you like a shield.

It will get you shot, one day. Sneaking in like this. With anyone else you might have been already - but not with Joel.

You think he doesn’t really mind your nightly visits. The way he keeps the crates stacked just so, beneath the fire escape.

How he only locks one side of the window after you leave - the other just out of the reach of your knife, when you wiggle the latch open from the outside.

It smells like him - these faded, patterned sheets. Ones he’d never pick out for himself, in another life.

Before.

Ones that you can’t imagine him not having, because this is the only way you know him.

The familiarity soothes you, even though he’s not here. Exhaustion starting to weigh you down, starting at the tips of your limbs and curling around you like vines.

Eyelids growing heavy, listening to the rain that’s just begun to sprinkle down. Drowning out the stomping rows of boots outside - a white noise that lulls you to sleep.

This time - you don’t dream.

———

He almost missed that you’re here. The sound of your breathing, the little hitches of breath while you sleep, engulfed by the downpour.

Only seeing the lump in the blankets as he sheds his rain-stained coat, the canvas soaked-though at the shoulders.

A mark deepening between his brows as he glances at your form - the jacket and pants thrown over the broken radiator. Moving to the window, flipping the latch on the left side back into place.

You’re slippery. Squeezing through cracks. Worming your way into his room and under the hardened armor of his skin.

For anyone else, this layer you’ve peeled back and crawled beneath would be no more than surface-level. An acquaintance, perhaps.

But with Joel, it’s so much more. It makes his skin itch, as if it was flayed back - exposed and raw.

Uncomfortable. But not unwelcome.

He hadn’t seen you today - the silent check he does. Just needing a glance of your hair, your shape in the crowd. It’s enough, a second in the long minutes and hours that make up his day.

It’s a small relief, a fresh breath of air he didn’t know he needed.

Silently, he strips down. Clothes folded on a chair with chipped paint - someone old DIY gone wrong. Looking like The End had already hit, years before it did.

A hand running through his hair, pushing the damp strands back, padding over to the edge of the bed.

“Come on, honey.” His words hold a softness that doesn’t exist when the sun is shining - a moment he knows you won’t remember.

Gently easing you over, so he can fit himself in behind you. Curling into your warmth, the blankets tucked back around you both.

The frown easing from his face when you murmur - face burrowing into the pillow, fingers brushing against the arm that wraps around your ribs. The hand that flattens against your stomach.

His name, no more than sleepy murmur, as you get comfortable again.

“Joel.”

He wonders if you’re dreaming about him.

He wonders if he’ll dream about you.

———

He’s solid, strong back and broad-shouldered. Shifting in the night to face away from you, as he often did. For comfort or another attempt to keep others out - a literal barrier - you’ll never know. Your chest presses against his spine, an arm curling around his waist.

Your eyes crack open. It’s still dark out, the sky just starting to streak with grey. You hadn’t slept long but you had slept soundly - the best you’ve had in days.

The tip of your nose brushes against the cotton of his shirt. Shifting so you can move higher, so it can skim against the base of his neck, instead. Press into the soft hair that curls - smelling like rain and sweat and him.

Your fingers trace the cotton at his hip, skim across the elastic waistline of his boxers. It had been over two weeks since you had last caved - had last come here.

It had been a good run. But the nightmares had come back - flashes of your past that you can’t bear to relive.

He shields you from them. Waking easily at the first sound of your muttering - his hand curling around your shoulder, low voice pulling you back out.

You know he understands. How he talks in his sleep as well, how you do the same for him. An unspoken agreement.

He shifts, against you. Only the slightest change in his breathing - he can wake from a dead sleep in an instant.

A hand, warm and calloused, finding yours as it brushes the strip of bare skin where his shirt has ridden up.

Dragging your hand down, to where he strains against the fabric. The pressure of his fingers curling yours around his length as he groans.

His hand leaves yours to tug down the waistband, removing the barrier between your palm and his hot, bare skin. Pushing them down his thighs, kicking them off to twist in the blankets.

The tip of your thumb brushes over the head, smearing precum over the tip. Air hisses between clenched teeth as he inhales, as you press yourself closer, crushing yourself against him as your arm pumps.

“Is this why you’re here?” Joel asks you, shifting his hips, pushing himself deeper into your fist. His voice rough with sleep, the sound making you squirm behind him.

It was easy to pretend it was.

That he didn’t go to bed hard, like this - the only thing keeping him from waking you up was knowing how much you needed the sleep.

That it was just physical. Fucking the nightmares from your head - that it could be anyone else burying themselves inside you, and the outcome would be the same.

It’s a lie, though. You both know it.

He’s the only one you go to. You’re the only one he’s let in.

You hum your response, trying to peek over the bulk of his shoulder. To watch him fucking your hand, skin sliding against skin.

Lips press against his neck again and he shudders. Moving your hand from him, twisting in your grip until you’re trapped beneath the spread of thick thighs.

The heavy jut of his flushed cock swaying, as he adjusts himself on top of you. Leaving a damp patch smeared across your breast, as he takes himself in his hand again.

He hasn’t meant to end up quite like this.

Had just wanted you warm and soft beneath him. Moving up too high on your waist on accident - still hazy with sleep - ending up with your arms pinned against your sides.

Making to move, until he sees the way you’re focused on his hand, your lips parting. Showing off a pink flash of tongue. Fingers gripping on to his ankles - the only part of him you can reach - nails digging in.

“You want this?” He asks, stroking himself - his fist fitting in the valley between your breasts. His other hand cupping his sack, squeezing.

Leaving you to watch the flex of his forearm, the flushed tip appearing between thumb and forefinger. Nodding, your tongue peeking out to wet your lips.

“Ask me for it.” It’s not a request, his head tilting as your hands tighten around him.

As he angles his cock down, shifting until it’s hovering, just out of reach. Your chin lifts, mouth opening as your eyes fix on his.

Joel’s jaw grits. You can see the heave of his chest, the hand cupping himself dropping to the curve of your breast. Thumb rolling over the tight bud - the sensation dulled by your thin top, but it’s him and your body still sings.

You crack first.

“Wanna taste you.” Your eyes are still on him, can see the way he swallows hard, how he shifts over you.

“Fuck, baby.” He growls. The hand around his cock drops to curl around the back of your neck, twisting in your hair to angle you.

All while he moves forward, pressing himself against the flat of your tongue. Where you’re open and waiting for the weight of his cock, to taste the salt of his skin and the drop that still clings to the tip.

Wet and aching for him already - a dull thudding between your thighs, where they press and rub together.

You groan, as he inches inside. Lips wrapping around and sucking, causing him to hiss out a breath, his hips hitching.

Nudging him a little too deep, as you cough - tears springing to your eyes. He shifts back with soothing words, the hand on your breast moving to cup your jaw - thumb rubbing against your cheek.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” There’s a pinch to his brow, your head shaking minutely to tell him it’s fine. A second, as he thinks, “Tap my leg if it’s too much. You got that?”

He waits for you to listen, giving an experimental tap. Before he tries again - hips rocking, a slow and shallow press into your mouth.

You take him, relaxing into the cup of his hand. Eyes wandering across his stomach, chest - whatever you can see when he draws back. Closing, so you can listen to the groans that reverberate in his chest. Letting him use you, to fuck your mouth - trusting him, putting yourself in his hands.

A hand that flexes and twists in your hair. His thumb of the other sweeping against your cheekbone, the hollow under your eye - brushing away the tear that glistens against your skin.

So tender it makes your chest ache. Fingers curling against his leg, squeezing. He’s pulling himself from you, then - out of the warmth of your mouth, as you swallow.

Trying to protest that it wasn’t the signal, your lips glossy and shining. He’s shifting back, nudging your thighs wide to fit between them. Lowering himself down, his cock wet and thick and digging into your hip.

“I know.” He murmurs. Before his mouth presses to yours, the kiss sloppy. Tongue brushing where his cock had been, as he tugs at the waistband of your underwear.

Dragging them down to join his, fingers dipping between your thighs. Groaning into your mouth when he feels how wet you are from sucking him off, the tips pressing and circling against your clit.

You whine his name, the stubble on his cheek scraping against your skin. Breath hot in your ear as his weight pins you down. Thumb smearing your slick across your clit, so he can fit a finger inside.

You’re tight, molten hot. Gripping him already as you arch into him, as he slips in another. Curling them until they drag against a spot that makes you moan - strung tight beneath him.

He need to calm down, make you come, before he fucks you. A pressure swiftly building in his belly when he watched you, the trust in the way you took him.

The sound of his fingers is loud, the wet suck as he fits in a third. Stretching you out, each of your breaths harsh, your nails biting into his skin.

Already so needy, already near the edge. Each of your breaths coming shorter as his hips press against yours. Letting your fingers drift to feel the hard curve of his cock, hearing his grunt in your ear when you tug on him.

“Don’t worry about me.” He groans, voice rough before his lips press against the column of your neck.

As if you ever weren’t.

As if you didn’t always want him.

His words were unneeded, because you’re losing concentration quickly. Only focused on the tension in your belly - the pressure like a finger squeezing down the trigger, about to fire.

He’s relentless, fingers pounding, the wet flick of his thumb. Feeling your racing pulse beneath his lips, the sharp gasp of each breath, your muscles flexing.

Tightening around him until that tension snaps. Pleasure thrumming through you as you buck into his hand, your mind going blissfully blank and fuzzy - your moan strung out and pitched high.

Missing his words, feeling the brush of his other hand over your legs, smoothing over your hips. You can just make out the timbre, leaving you to imagine the rest.

Christ, just like that.

Good fucking girl.

Fingers slow as he pushes himself up, only removing them to tug at your shirt - pulling his own from his shoulders.

Folding himself between your limp, spread thighs, before hooking his elbows under your knees. Opening you up, where you’re soaked and the fluttering is still ebbing.

The twist of his wrist as he lines himself up - smearing his tip across your slit. The briefest tease, indulgence, before he slides in. Sinking inside of your tight heat in a long, fluid motion.

“Fuck, I missed you.” You breathe, brow pinched as he fills a chasm you didn’t realize you had.

His breath comes out ragged.

It’s not in the script. The words you both know. No, this had come from the soft pulp of your heart, a late night confession.

He doesn’t know how to take it. Mouth crushing against yours as he sinks deeper, swallowing your words to keep them safe.

Trying not to think about how his own answer had sprung to his lips, unbidden. It’s dangerous. To think like that, to have any sort of claim on anything, now.

It’s easier to pretend you just miss his cock.

That you just came here to forget.

That’s something he can do - drawing his hips back, snapping back in. Watching the way your tits bounce, everything softened and hazy with the thin grey light that creeps in.

Shifting, lifting a leg to brace on his shoulder, pushing him deeper as you gasp. The other pressing against his ribs, curling around his waist.

Freeing up his arms so he can taste your release on his fingertips. Licking you from him before he presses the calloused pads against your own mouth.

You take him, tongue curling around spit-slicked fingers. Tasting yourself on them, your sighs muffled when he presses down on your tongue.

Thumb dragging against your lower lip, before he pulls himself from the heat of your pretty mouth. Finding his way to where you take him, tracing slick fingers up your slit. Feeling where you’re stretched wide around him, puffy and slick.

Teasing at your clit - as your hands clench in the sheets, twisted up near your ears.

In a world where the right protection can mean life or death - where a bite can end everything - it’s a wonder how you bare yourself to him. His hand ghosting across soft skin, from breasts to hip. Fingertips indenting flesh, gripping, pulling, tugging.

Watching with greedy eyes how you gaze up at him, an ankle digging into his shoulder - trying to force him deeper. He leans forward, putting more force behind his thrusts, watching the way your lips part with a soft “ah!” with every breath.

Fingers pressing and swiping against the tight bud of your clit, the way he knows you like it.

He needed this too - to bury himself in you. Feel the way you wrap tight and warm around him. His own tongue loosened like this, his own release building again.

“Christ, look at you.” He grits out.

Admiring. It makes you preen, lips stretched wide in a grin, a bright flash of teeth in the dark. Eyes half-lidded and heavy, doing your own slow sweep.

Over a tight waist that your leg hooks around. Bare stomach and broad chest, dusted with dark hair, only the slightest hint of grey. Not like the strands at his temples, the ones that streak throughout the curls. Peppering his facial hair.

Ruining you again. It had been a long time since you wanted something, and you can’t get him out of your head. Always coming back, even though you’re sure it won’t end well.

Because nothing does, any more.

You won’t let your soft heart ruin tonight. Not when his thumb sweeps across your hip. His eyes dark and glittering as he watches your face, as he works you up again.

The sharp rut of his cock and swirl of his fingers so perfect, that the tears start to well up, again.

“Joel,” You say his name again, “F-fuck, I’m gonna come.”

You felt like heaven on his fingers - tight and hot and sopping wet for him. It doesn’t hold a candle to now, how you squirm beneath him, the slap of his skin against yours.

The snug fit of your cunt, as you clench around him.

“Want you to.” He rasps out, resisting the urge to fuck you harder, faster. Keeping the same pace, the same circle of his fingers, “Let me feel you, baby.”

Need you to.

You come with a cry. Back bowing against the mattress, limb wrapping around him. Turning his thrusts into a sloppy grind, your hands coming to grip at his forearms. The waves crashing over you stronger and longer than before, your vision turning dark and hazy.

“Fuck. Fuck-” He growls - as the tight pulse pulls him to the edge.

It’s too much.

It’s all he can think about, as he pulls himself from you. Fisting his cock, jerking himself until he spills across your mound, your slick pussy.

How he wishes he could have stay buried, throbbing inside you, coating your walls with his release. Marking you, only pulling out so he can watch it leak from you later.

The word echos in his ears, layered with the thudding of his heart.

Dangerous.

———

You’re gone, when he wakes up.

The hazy morning sun is just barely casting warm rays of light onto the worn wooden floorboards as he drags himself from bed - a hand passing over his face, pressing into his eyes.

Pushing himself up, making his way over to the window.

But there’s nothing - just puddles collecting in the broken ridges of the roads. The streets washed clean from the rain.

Fingers drift, tracing up the cool frame of the window, until it’s touching the chipped white paint of the latch. Lost in thought for a long moment - before his hand drops back down to the sill.

He leaves the right side unlocked.

thank you so much for reading! 💕

#no show spoilers! 💕#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine

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bamsara · 1 year

Note

For the prompt thing, may I suggest, "good morning sleeping beauty" with moon? I think it'd be really sweet to have y/n finally comfortable enough to sleep near moon and they wake up to see him next to them.

(also, hi bam!)

Moon-Centric | Wordcount: 1,018 | A03 Version

Adjusting to living with the Daycare Attendant was easy in some ways, odd in others, and in some cases: just weird.

You've gotten quite used to a few quirks or theirs, or simple things. Like remembering you're not alone in your apartment anymore when you suddenly hear the TV turn on to the news in the other room or the sound of doors opening and closing. Or the smell of food cooking (burning) when Sun decides to try a new recipe that he may have forgotten that your fridge is not an endless supply of ingredients and you do, actually, have to go to the grocery store to keep supplying his new hobby.

There's the whole showering situation. The laundry situation (they don't need clothes, per say, but one of the upsides of being free robots means they can dress however they like now, so their wardrobe is growing) and coming home to see that your furniture has been rearranged for a third time that week because the Daycare Attendant wants everything to look just right.

There's also the sleeping situation.

You mostly wake up to Sun in the morning. Unless you don't, and it's the middle of the night, and Moon doesn't know the meaning of 'personal bubble.'

One evening you wake up with a sore, dry throat, open your eyelids and find two bright red glows casting back down at you. "What the-"

A silicone-coated hand gently, quietly, comes over your lips. You are silenced, though still sending a glare, to the robot that hushes you, hovering inches over your face. Moon sits cross-legged on the bed, tall body hunched over your foam. His T-shirt brushes up against your bare arm. The bell of his hat rests beside your head on your pillow. This was the norm for him.

You glare up at him and talk through the fingers on your mouth. "Whattyadoing."

The Moon does not respond, but his smile and half-lidded eyes tell you its an obvious answer.

You blink through he bleariness and look to the clock. It's about 5AM, not the middle of the night like you thought, but the sun hasn't risen yet. The space behind your curtains is still a blue, purple of a day not born yet. "How long have you been like this."

"Only a few moments." He talks quietly, voicebox in a whisper. Any louder would disturb you, and he wants you to fall back asleep. "You were stirring."

You yawn, and the hand brushes down your chin and to your neck, and lingers there. The bed on your back and warm blankets are lulling, but the ache in your throat is becoming more noticeable as you breathe. "I need water."

"I can get it for you."

"No, it's fine." You grab his arm before he moves, and he stays. Though a dulled look comes across his face, he returns to hover above you. "Give me a minute. I should get up for the day about this time anyway."

Moon's face twitches. Obvious disagreement. But the hand near your neck returns just to brush the hair away from your face. "You are getting up early?"

"Yeah." You yawn, and stretch your legs under the blankets. Any moment now you'll have to bite the tired and sit up. "Gramps has doctor appointment at 8AM, and we're driving him. Might as well get some stuff done and ready before we go."

"Hmm." His thumb moves to your eyes, and you close them briefly as he thumbs away the sleepy bits in the corner. He does what Sun does all the same, greasy hair and dried drool on your face do not stop him from petting you, for some reason. It's a nice feeling, if not too soothing when you know you need to get up.

The Moon clicks dully, pulling at the skin underneath your eyes (dark circles, thin skin with taut veins from sleepless nights and days full of worry and agitation. ) before a soft grin stretches on his face. "Good morning, sleeping beauty."

You glare at him, blinking out of synch.

"I never tell you good morning." He continues, unphased by your less-than-impressed reaction. "I only tell you Good Night. My turn."

That was...correct. Moon was the one who followed you to bed, but never the one to wake up with you. That was Sun. You never thought to wonder if they'd prefer to see how it is to switch. "God, you're corny. I hate 'sleeping beauty.' Makes me cringe."

"I can use a different name I have for you." Moon's smile turns slightly wicked.

"Pass."

"I can try a different way-"

"I'm going back to sleep." With one swift motion, you pull the blanket up to your chin and turn away, back to the animatronics. "Wake me up in an hour."

A low, amused chuckle comes from the static voice box behind you, and the presence on the bed shifts, the weight moving as Moon's head comes down to your face directly. "I won't."

"Mean."

"I'll wake you when the sun rises."

You blow air out from your nose and onto his face. It swivels, the ball falling with it. "You're totally preventing me from getting my extra hour of sleep, by the way."

"A shame." Moon hums. The face disappears from your vision, and the darkness of the room is all you have to see. Against your back, you feel the bed shift, and an arm comes up underneath you. The covers are lifted (not like you didn't help with that) and the space behind you is occupied now. Your legs brush up against star-pattern pants, a metal arm secured around your waist. "We will make it two hours."

You realize with faint defeat that you never got your water, but you're already lulling back to sleep too late to try. "Don't make me late."

"Hush." The other hand finds its way over your eyes. Moon's faceplate rests on your head, his t-shirt presses into your back. "Good morning."

"G'morning." You mumble, shifting backward further into the animatronic, and letting your lingering sleep take you.

#writings #drabbles #fnaf sb #fnaf moon #moon x reader #Solar Lunacy

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thebearer · 8 months

Note

maybe richie inviting you guys to take eva and teeny ted to the pumpkin patch 😔

picky |dad!caramen berzatto x mom!reader|

based off the above ask! with baby dorothea "teddy", richie, eva, and pumpkins :) apart of thebearer's ber month masterlist!

"Finally!" Richie threw his hands up, rolling his eyes at Carmen. "What took you so long?"

Carmen rolled his eyes, pulling the stroller out of the trunk. "There was traffic."

"Traffic? Cousin, we left at the same time-"

"-He wouldn't go over fifty, Richie." You grinned, poking your head out of the backseat. "Took us forever because he drove so slow-"

"-Well, I'm not drivin' like a fuckin' maniac, alright? Got a baby." Carmen snapped, rolling his eyes.

You beamed, eyes cutting to Richie's with a soft shrug, unfastening a sleeping Teddy out of her car seat gently. She was so adorable in her little coat and jacket. So tiny, you had squealed putting it on her, parading her around to show Carmen proudly- your precious baby Teddy Bear.

"Did you bring the baby?" An excited Eva startled you, bouncing on her toes behind you.

"Yeah." You nod, cradling Teddy's head carefully while you lifted her, shushing her when she started to fuss. "You wanna see her?"

Eva nodded, leaning up on her tip toes to peer at the tiny baby in your arms. "She's so little." Eva gasped lightly.

"She is." You nod. "She's gotten bigger, if you can believe it." You giggle, fixing Teddy's little hat over her ears, shutting the car door with your hip.

"Oh, look who it is." Richie grins, cooing at Teddy gently. "How are you doin', sweetheart? Sleepin' finally?"

"Yeah, 'm good." You hum through a half hug with Richie. "Sleeping more, now. She's kinda gotten on a schedule." You roll your eyes lightly, settling Teddy back into the stroller.

Carmen strapped her in, situating the blanket over her with a hushed tone. "You're ok, Teddy, you're alright." He muttered sweetly.

"Eva, go get your wagon." Richie nods towards the lines of bright red wagons by the entrance, watching the kid run bounding towards them.

Carmen's lips tightened, brow furrowing. "You don't-You don't go with her?" He asked Richie, eyes flitting to him cautiously.

"What? I can see her-"

"-Yeah, but what-what if someone tried to take her or somethin'?" Carmen muttered, eyes trained on Eva like if he looked away she might vanish.

"Then I'd get this out." Richie muttered, lifting his shirt lightly to show the glock resting in the band, both you and Carmen hissing at him to put it down. "No one's gonna do shit, alright? I won't let it. But what do you want from me? Want me to put her on a leash?"

Carmen shook his head, pushing the stroller on to the asphalt, his hand finding yours easily. "Hey, kid." Richie called, catching Eva's attention. "You want the maze first or are we pickin' a pumpkin?"

"Pumpkins." Eva nodded firmly. "Before all the good ones are gone, like last year." She glared at him in a tone and stare that made Carmen snort in laughter- she looked like Tiff.

"Yeah, yeah, you lead the way." Richie nods. "Or you want me to pull it?"

"You pull it." Eva hands him the wagon handle, settling into the dirty wagon easily.

"Are you gonna get a big pumpkin?" You ask her, steps falling with Carmen's.

"Yeah. We're carving them tonight." Eva nods.

"We are?" Richie looks at her carefully. "News to me, kid."

"Duh." Eva shook her head. "We have to, before they go bad."

"Yeah, alright." Richie grinned softly. "What about you, Cousin? Gettin' a big one to make that weird sh-stuff you made last year?"

Carmen rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, maybe." He nodded towards the barn. "You want somethin' from in there? Cider?"

"Yeah." You nodded, eyes cutting down to Teddy, who was stretching, blinking in the autumn sun. You smiled, watching her turn and look all wide eyed at the world around her. "Will you get me a cider donut if I ask really nice?" You tease lightly, lashes batting playfully up at Carmen.

"I'd get you one even if you didn't." Carmen grinned. "Hey, where's the pumpkins at? Behind the barn, right?"

"Yeah." Richie nods. "You need a break already?"

"Getting a donut." You shrug. "We'll meet you over there."

"You want anything? Eva?" Carmen asks, patting his pocket for his wallet.

"We'll get it on the way out." Richie nods. "Meet you back over here?"

"Pick me out a good pumpkin." You grin at Eva. "A big one, please."

Eva nods excitedly, while you settle at a picnic table, shaded under a tree. Teddy was gurgling, spit bubbles that had your heart swelling while her wide eyes darted around, stretching gently.

"It's pretty, isn't it, Teddy Bear?" You babbled lightly, pushing the stroller soothingly. "Are you gonna be like Mama? Gonna be a fall girly? Yes you are."

You pushed her slowly in the stroller, taking photos for your friends and family. Carmen came back, holding a white box and a drink carrier. "What's all this?" You giggle, taking the warm cider from his grasp.

"I got you a dozen." Carmen shrugged, settling beside you. "We can take the others home, and you can have 'em later, if you want."

You beamed, pressing a kiss to his cheek that had him flushing. "You didn't have to do that." You shake your head lightly, opening the box, mouth watering at the sugared donuts. "But I love you so much for doing it."

Carmen grinned, moving Teddy's blanket up. "She's being really good." He beamed.

"She is." You nod. "I think she's gonna be a fall fan too." You tear a piece of the donut off, plopping it in your mouth. "Have to come here every year, now, Berzatto. Have two girls that want to come."

Carmen just smiled. He'd gladly come out here every year if it made you happy, both of you.

"You want a bite?" You ask, offering a torn piece. Carmen nods, eating it off your fingers lightly, lips touching your fingers making your body shudder lightly.

"Fuck," He groans softly. "Forgot how good that is. Should get Marcus to make somethin' like that for the seasonal menu."

"Oh, that would be good." You nod. "I'd like it anyways."

"Yeah? I'll have him make some stuff, have you come over and approve them then." Carmen hummed, arm wrapping around your back gently. "You want to go to the maze?"

"Maybe." You sigh contently. "Is it bad I'm fine here? Just happy to be out of the house and in real clothes with my donuts and my baby."

Carmen laughed, nodding softly. "No, I'm on the same page." He grinned. "Feels good not to see the house or the restaurant. Good change of scenery, y'know?"

"Exactly." You nod. "It's cute out here." You look around at the crowds of people with their wagons, pumpkins, mums. "I can see why Richie and Eva like it."

Carmen nods, looking at Teddy, cooing at her lightly. "Think you'll take her out here when she gets older?" You hum. "Go pick pumpkins?"

"Yeah." Carmen nods, smiling down at the little baby. "You can come, too."

"Really?"

"C'mon," Carmen shakes his head lightly at you. "You're the best at picking pumpkins. Picked that one last year and it was amazing."

You laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Thanks." You look at him, all starry eyed and mushy. "I'll come and share my talents, only if you buy me a donut every year."

"I fuckin' promise." Carmen grins, squeezing your hand lightly.

You sit in silence for a moment, pushing the stroller gently. "You're going to make that soup again with this pumpkin?"

"Yeah, yeah, I am." Carmen grins. "Fuck Richie, it was good. And-And he knows it too. Jagoff ate all of it last year. Just bustin' my balls about it now."

#thebearer ber months #thebearer #carmen berzatto #dad!carmen berzatto x mom!reader #dad!carmen berzatto #dorothea “teddy” berzatto #richie jerimovich #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #the bear #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto x fem!reader #carmen berzatto x female!reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen 'carmy' berzatto

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kolyubov · 5 months

Note

Hi! Can I request Nikolai with a reader who achieved HIS goals? Like (maybe almost) not feeling emotions at all, but she still thinks she's not free. So she pretends to have emotions and much more goofier than him... But when she gets serious she really gets serious!

Sfw! I would love to see how Nikolai would act towards her! :)

Hiii, you're my first request and I'm so excited! I hope I met your expectations<3

Well, I think even if you pretend to be all silly around Nikolai, he'll notice sooner or later. After all, he knows how to pretend to be someone he isn't (like when he pretended to be a secretary or a police officer). And when he confronts you about it… things don't go as expected…

He wouldn't want you to lose your sparkle :((

✧ contents. angst?, Nikolai is a bit ooc and obsessive if you squint.

Nikolai decided to take you out today— The sun was shining and there wasn't a cloud in the sky, it's the perfect day for a date, he thinks.

The spot was far from the city, you weren't even sure where this park was situated but that didn't matter since Nikolai’s coat could bring you back home in an instant.

You two set a blanket down, along with some food and even board games to pass the time before sitting down.

Just the two of you.

“Dove, Look!”

Nikolai points at something behind you, but when you turn around you only meet with the scenery of the park— leaves rustling with the wind, birds chirping, the sound of water from a nearby lake…

The sight alone was almost mesmerizing.

Almost.

You didn't feel happy even if you were smiling slightly; which was only to pretend how much you were supposed to enjoy it. You rather feel melancholic.

When you turned back to Nikolai, he was holding a bouquet of white flowers; lilies of the valley, tulips, roses.

You had to force a bigger smile as you looked down at the flowers, trying to avoid his gaze as the melancholic feeling grew bigger inside you.

The gift itself was incapable of bringing you any sort of joy, rather you felt cherished by him because he intended to make you happy with the white bouquet.

“Oh… Kolya, dear. You didn't need to!” You giggle, reaching for the bouquet, but before you do he pushes the bouquet away from your hands and tilts your chin up.

The smile on your face falls when you meet his heterochromatic eyes, his right one is uncovered. A soft smile across his lips.

He's vulnerable in front of you.

“Darl’, if you want it, I need you to do something for me, please.”

You stay silent for a few seconds before putting on your mask again and chuckling.

Arms wrapping around his neck, making him drop the bouquet and instinctively resting his hands on your waist.

“Want me to smooch you all over your face? paint your nails? try new hairstyles on your hair? help you to bother Sigma? or—”

“I need you to be honest with me, dove.” His voice turns a bit more stern as his grip on your waist tightens slightly.

The way his softness falters makes you realize he's serious, so you stop smiling too.

“Why are you lying to me, hm?” He almost sounds like a father grounding his child. “I'm not mad at you, I just wanna help you because I care about you. I know something's wrong.”

A long sigh escapes your lips. Nikolai would know exactly how you feel; what you wish for… because he's feeling the same too.

To get rid of any complicated emotions that always get in the way of everything.

To be free.

“I don't wanna feel anything anymore…”

Nikolai could feel how his system completely stopped for a brief second after your words. His eyes widened, his hands went numb to your hips, and his stomach twisted.

His darling… not feeling anything?

That'll mean not hearing your sweet laugh when he says something silly, not seeing how your eyes open wide in excitement each time he shows you some random trick, not seeing those pretty cheeks getting red as you cry or get embarrassed.

Does it mean not loving him anymore?

Nikolai's large hands cup your cheeks, and you swear you could feel his fingers trembling.

“Love, don’t— don't do it, nonono.” His voice cracks slightly. He's getting desperate.

Of course, you still love him with your heart and soul, it's impossible to get rid of the love you feel for him, plus, you don't want to even if that means not being completely free.

“I think it's already a bit late… don't you also want to—”

Before you could finish speaking, he pushed you down on the blanket, locking his fingers with yours to pin you down.

“It's not the same, dove. You don't understand.”

A nervous chuckle emerges from his lips. He doesn't want to lose you, because losing your emotions means losing your love for him too.

And he wasn't going to let you leave him caged alone with his complex feelings.

“It's not fair that I'll be the only one who's stuck with his emotions, isn't it?”

There's a large grin on his face that sends a shiver down your spine.

“You can't leave me alone… You won't leave me alone. We'll both be suffering from these emotions if it means being together...”

Nikolai giggles, sealing his promise with a tender kiss on your lips as his hands tighten around yours— Making sure you know you're stuck with him as long as you keep breathing.

#nikolai x reader #bungou stray dogs x you #nikolai x you #bsd nikolai #bsd x you #bsd x reader #nikolai gogol #nikolai gogol x reader #bungo stray dogs #bsd #bungou stray dogs x reader #nikolai.zip #requests.ᐟ #ᯓ★ messages from the stars ✧˖°.

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actual-changeling · 2 months

Text

some early fluffy msr featuring once again a very tired scully and a worried mulder. if i end up writing more vignettes like these i might start posting them on ao3. this is set a few days after the first pfaster incident.

—

Mulder should really wake her up.

Not only is sleeping on the desk incredibly uncomfortable—speaking from a lot of experience—but he also knows that her first reaction to realising she fell asleep at work will be shame. She is slumped over in her usual chair, angled towards him and with her back to the door; every now and then she makes a little noise and buries her face deeper into the cradle of her arms.

Her blazer has ridden up her back and her blouse with it, revealing not soft skin but a deep-blue, slowly healing bruise. There are several more littering her entire body, and Mulder has caught her wincing or hissing in pain more times than he can count, swallowing the needle of guilt that comes with it. The memory of her sobbing into his chest is at the forefront of his mind, impermeable and achingly bright, and he regrets not shooting Pfaster dead right where he stood.

Scully had insisted on going back to work and shrugged off any and all attempts at getting her medical attention, eventually telling him to 'leave her alone or so help me god'. Not wanting to push, he had, and yet, seeing the shadows under her eyes match her bruises more and more, he wishes he had said something—anything—if just to make sure she is not hurting more than can be avoided.

It is not difficult to guess what exactly is keeping her up at night, and this is not the first or the last time a harrowing experience haunted them all the way home. Nightmares are as much part of the job as paperwork, and he would carry it all for her if he could.

Mulder watches her lips part for a sigh, a week's worth of fatigue finally catching up with her, and his indecision disappears entirely. He quietly pushes back his chair and tiptoes around their office, first taking the phones off the hook, then switching off their cellphones too. If anyone wanted something from them (and 'anyone' was almost exclusively Skinner), they were going to have to wait.

After locking the door, he turns off the ceiling light, picks up his coat, and gently drapes it over her shoulders; the heavy fabric wraps around her like a cocoon, making her appear even smaller than she already was. Shifting for a few seconds, Scully seems to adjust to the new weight and influx of warmth, but she quickly settles again with sleep softening her features. Hesitantly, Mulder reaches out and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, disproportionately endeared by the content noise he gets in response.

In the late afternoon twilight, her red hair is littered with specks of gold, and he cannot resist the urge to run a palm over the back of her head to smooth it down further. Leaning in, he presses a tender kiss on her temple, murmuring "_sweet dreams"_ before he can second-guess himself.

Mulder knows he cannot change what happened or the lingering trauma she is inevitably struggling with, but he can allow her to get the rest she needs, if just for a little while, his gaze never straying far from her. No uninvited visitors disturb her peace, and he busies himself with expense reports and filing while she naps.

The sun sets, the moon rises, and a handful of hours later, he catches her lashes fluttering and fingers twitching as she finds her way back to consciousness.

Contrary to his initial assumption, Scully doesn't seem to feel embarrassed or uncomfortable, but rather leans back and pulls his coat tighter around herself. Her eyes are clear, and he can spot the beginning of a smile tugging on her lips. He breathes against the sudden wave of anxiety washing over him, worried that he somehow overstepped.

"Better?"

Scully nods, letting out a puff of air and looking away as a blush rises to her cheeks.

"Thank you," she whispers, extending her arm to take his hand, which was starting to make a mess of the files without him noticing. Mulder squeezes it in return, his thumb unconsciously drawing circles along her knuckles. Unsure of how to deal with the emotions surging between them, he bites back the joke on his tongue and settles for honesty instead.

"If you ever—you can call. Anytime. Odds are I'm probably up anyway, and if-" he stumbles, mentally preparing himself to see her walls slot back into place, but she is meeting his gaze with steady, familiar affection.

"If that's something I can do, please. Let me."

Scully squeezes his hand one more time before pulling back, carefully pushing herself upright. His coat is swallowing her, merging her with the creeping shadows on the wall, and her hair is a flame, drawing him in like a moth to the light. His light.

"Dinner? Your choice."

Mulder smiles, recognising the offer for what it is: gratitude and affirmation wrapped in one.

"Let's go."

(When Scully calls him later in the early morning hours, they end up falling asleep together, and seeing her lively and infinitely less tired at work is worth the phone bills he continues to amass over the next few weeks.)

#alex writes x files #txf #the x files #x files #dana scully #fox mulder #scully x mulder #mulder x scully #msr #txf fanfic #msr fanfic

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hesbuckcompton-baby · 3 months

Text

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 7

AO3

Summary: As they continue their stay at Coombe House, Rosie and Frankie find themselves ever more drawn to one another

Warnings: Language, mild injury description (blood), tension that makes me want to rip my own eyes out??? i think that counts

Word Count: 3.5k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58

The chirp of crickets filled the air, a warm afternoon breeze blowing the grass this way and that as the Riveters played in the river, laughing and shouting as they splashed one another from the comfort of their rowing boats beneath the glow of the midday sun. People had warned Rosie about the temperamental British weather before he'd left Brooklyn, but it seemed the heavens had made an exception for their trip. Considerate, really.

Frankie had laid out a picnic blanket on the grassy slope overlooking the water, a half-eaten packet of crackers and a battered copy of The Young Visiters lying in her wake, the book so well-worn that its cover was halfway hanging off. The only problem was that Frankie herself was nowhere to be found, and Rosie sat quietly beside her blanket like a dog awaiting its master, thumbing the corner of his book, unable to finish a whole page without looking around for any sign of her.

The sound of footsteps muffled by the soft ground caught his attention, craning his neck to watch her bounding up behind him. She was wearing a stark red blouse and a pair of shorts that ended just above the knee, and for a moment he had to stop himself from staring at her legs as Frankie crouched beside him. Letting out a grunt, she tucked her feet beneath her as she sat down, holding out the teacup she had been carrying. "Here. Drink this."

It didn't even occur to Rosie to question her demand until he had upturned the cup, a foul, acrid taste stinging his tongue. Swiftly spitting whatever the disgusting liquid was back into its cup, he spluttered in revulsion. "What in God's name is that?!"

Frankie guffawed, a pink flush tinting her cheeks. "Pappy got distracted and accidentally poured his juice and his coffee into the same cup."

"So naturally you had to bring it straight out here to make me drink it?"

"Of course," She nodded as if it were obvious, rolling over to lie on her stomach, feet crossed over and swinging back and forth in the air. "In my defence, I'm only here so that I'll feel better, and that did work."

Rosie couldn't help but smirk, even in spite of the bitter taste that coated his tongue. Pilfering one of her crackers, he turned back to his book, shaking his head in silent, teasing disapproval. He assumed she had taken up reading herself, but instead, she began letting out a low, tutting sound, shaking her head. "Fuckin' horse riding?"

Putting down his book once again, he frowned down at her. "I thought you liked it here - are you still complaining about 'rich people hobbies'?" He raised a hand in quotation, mimicking her own words.

"I just don't get it," She continued to shake her head, watching the riders with narrowed eyes. "I mean - buy a bike? Cheaper. Don't have to feed it. Bikes also don't shit all over the place - I almost stepped in some on my way over here." The distaste was thick in her tone, and he couldn't help but smile, even as he scoffed in disbelief.

"You're so biased."

"I just don't think you have to spend obscene amounts of money to have a good time - if anything, I'm frugal."

"I can see that - you've read that book half to death, the poor thing."

"I think it's funny. At least I don't read depressing books about poor people dying like you," Frankie chuckled, jabbing a finger at his copy of Of Mice and Men. "Not exactly therapeutic."

"She's so judgy!" Rosie declared, lying backwards in the grass beside her blanket so that they could actually see each other's faces. A grin was plastered across his face, stuck still as he looked up at her - at the way the corners of her eyes creased when she laughed, and how her smile was always ever-so-slightly lopsided. She stared back at him, a twinkle in her eyes as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Hi," Frankie spoke sweetly.

"Hello."

It was silent for a long moment, their eyes locked, gentle smiles creasing their cheeks. Rosie felt the sudden urge to lean in.

"Hey, Frankie!" Bailey's voice rang from down in the river. He raised his head to look down the hill to the water, where Pappy was whispering something too quiet for him to hear, seemingly telling off the younger pilot for his interruption.

Frankie missed this part, too busy scrambling to her feet so she could descend the slope, anxious to hear what Bailey had to say. Rosie sighed, his head lolling back into the grass. Sometimes he was glad he was such a peaceful man, otherwise he swore he could've wrung Bailey's neck.

"Yeah, what's up?" She asked as she reached the edge of the water, the breeze blowing her hair out of place. Bailey paddled closer, ignoring Pappy's glare as he muttered his response to a conversation she hadn't heard the rest of.

"What? I'm allowed - he doesn't get a monopoly just because he fancies her," The man frowned, looking up at her with a smile as he approached. "Tennis rematch this afternoon?"

Frankie pushed his first statement out of her mind with a shrug. "Absolutely. Prepare to be destroyed," She grinned, shaking hands on the deal.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Bailey and Frankie were both equally dreadful at tennis. His serves barely ever made it across the net, and she frequently tripped on her own feet whilst scrambling to return the ones that did. They spent most of their matches yelling at each other in frustration, and the staff at Coombe House frequently had to tell them off for disturbing the other residents. But the pair were determined to get a single good game in before the end of their stay.

They'd been going for an hour. They had made no more than four successful passes in all that time, and at some point Frankie had skidded on her knee, grazing the skin and leaving a thin rivulet of blood running down her shin. "Fuck!" She yelled, just clipping the ball with the edge of her racket as it zipped past her, hitting the fence with a thud.

"You sure you wanna keep going?" Bailey called from across the court, eyeing the wound on her leg as she scrounged for the ball, which had rolled under a nearby hedge.

"I don't wanna stop until we get a proper back-and-forth going," She shook her head, wiping dirt off of the ball onto her shorts as she poised for another serve.

Rosie wandered the path past the tennis courts, his footsteps crunching against the gravel, altogether too distracted as he neared the end of his book to notice the chatter rising over the hedge before a familiar voice let out a whoop. Using his thumb to mark the page, he descended the stone steps leading down to the courts, spying the pair on the furthest of the three, tucked out of the way of the other players. They had finally gotten a rhythm going, letting out wordless exclamations of joy whenever they managed to successfully bat the ball back across the net, laughter mingling with the incessant sound of rackets colliding with the ball.

"Hey, you got it!" He cried, teeth bared in a grin.

"SHUT UP!" The pair yelled simultaneously, desperate not to break their concentration. Rosie chuckled, his smile fading slightly as he noticed Frankie's injury, the top layer of skin on her right knee now a bright patch of red, blooming with blood as it pooled in droplets on the surface.

"Gotta keep it up Rosie, I'm winning!" Bailey declared gleefully, sending the ball spinning back towards Frankie, narrowly missing the net.

"You're winning?" She cried, diving forward to return it, almost losing her balance but managing to clear the net. "Are you fucking blind?!"

"Hey, Frank, are you ok?" Rosie called, thumbing the corner of his book. Another line of blood had begun to seep down past her kneecap.

"It's nothing," Frankie sent the ball spinning towards Bailey, but he was just too slow, and it soared past his head into the shrubs. She let out a shriek, racket held above her head in victory. "See! I win!"

"Alright, alright," Bailey shook his head in defeat, crouching down to rummage for the lost ball. "Just go clean yourself up, it's distracting."

"Thank you," Rosie agreed with a nod. She held her racket out to him as he approached, and he accepted it without a second thought, only realising after a moment that he had no idea what to do with it. But by then Frankie was already at the top of the steps, peering down at her bloody knee. "C'mon, let's go in," He said as he caught up, discarding the racket upon a nearby bench, his palm skimming across her back as he guided her towards the house.

As nasty as the graze appeared, Frankie appeared completely unphased, a testament to the roughhousing games she had played as a girl. They made their way through the halls of Coombe House, the staff shooting her a few sideways glances, largely in fear of having to clean any blood out of the antique rugs. He followed her up the main staircase and through to their corridor, making a beeline for the shared bathroom at the end of the hall.

Frankie entered without a word, perching herself on the edge of the porcelain bathtub and hiking up her leg, leaving a muddy footprint on the clean, white rim as she attempted to pull out a few tiny stones with her fingers.

"Stop it!" Rosie seized her wrist, wrenching her hand away and shooting her a confounded look as he crossed towards the sink to wash his hands.

"I can do it," She whined, throwing up her hands.

"Not after trying that shit - you're banned from trying," He shook his head, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. Frankie almost snorted with laughter at how serious he was taking their present situation. Rosie took a moment of silent consideration before leaving the room in search of a first aid kid, and she let out a long sigh, tapping her foot impatiently against the polished wood floor.

By the time he returned, there was a white towel crumpled on the floor, stained scarlet by the blood she had wiped away with it. "Who raised you?" He scoffed, crouching down on the floor in front of her, tossing the stained towel aside.

"Speaking of, you should meet my dad," Frankie grinned, kicking off her dirty shoe and placing her foot in his lap as instructed. "You'd like him."

Rosie began to disinfect the wound, carefully removing the debris, and she fought the urge to wince at the stinging sensation. "I'm sure I would, he raised you," The words came forth faster than he could process them, and for a moment he paused, one hand hovering above her injury, the other gripping the bare skin of her calf to keep her from moving. Their position wasn't compromising per se, but it wasn't exactly proper either. Nevertheless, the sudden thought of someone intruding on them made him squirm, and he got up to lock the bathroom door without a word.

Frankie's brow raised at this, the sudden, deliberate movement raising all sorts of questions. "God, this is taking an interesting turn," She blurted, internally cringing at the type of subtly-suggestive jokes the boys she used to work with in the garage liked to make.

He turned back to look at her. "... Were you just flirting with me?"

"I think so, yes."

Rosie frowned, considering this very seriously as she searched his expression for some indication of how he felt. "... Hm." Without another word, he resumed his place in front of her, beginning to dress her knee.

What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Frankie was almost irritated, but she could feel the sweat clamming his palms as they touched her bare skin and suddenly he wasn't as calm as he seemed. She fought to hide her smirk as he finished dressing the graze, nodding in satisfaction at his work. "There." His voice was quieter than usual, unsteady.

"Thanks," She spoke hurriedly, her perch on the edge of the bathtub becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Pushing herself up to stand, Frankie bent down to grab the blood-stained towel off of the floor. "Oh, I'll clean that before it stains-"

"No, that's ok, I can do it," Rosie assured her, seizing its other side. Neither of them was quite looking the other in the eye.

"You sure? I mean, it's my mess, I really don't mind-"

"I'm sure."

Frankie nodded slowly, letting her grip on the towel slip away. "Alright then," She turned to the door, unlocking it with a click, and by the time Rosie looked back to where she had been, she was gone. His heart had been thumping in his chest, too fast for comfort, and only once he was alone could he heave in a long, steady breath to slow it down. Glancing down at the floor, he chuckled.

She had forgotten her shoe.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Steam filled the bathroom, rising to the ceiling and coating the windows in a film of grey as Rosie sank beneath the hot water, revelling in the feeling as it covered him completely, the feeling of warmth seeping through his skin as if it wished to take rest within his very bones. He splashed a handful across his face, blinking away the droplets on his eyelashes as he let out a sigh, leaning back against the side of the tub.

Frankie had spent almost all of last night's dinner talking about her tennis match with Bailey, hardly sparing him a second glance. He knew he shouldn't have taken issue with it - she was friends with all of the flight crew by now - but he found himself staring, as if waiting desperately for her to meet his eye. He hadn't seen her at breakfast at all. She deserved the lie in - that's what he told himself. But it was becoming increasingly impossible for Rosie to think about anything else.

The bathroom door swung swiftly open and shut, and he slid downwards until the water reached his chin, desperately trying to cover the most indecent parts of himself. He could've sworn he'd locked that door. It was almost midday, but Frankie was still in her pyjamas, brow furrowed as she read the newspaper she was holding in one hand, a glass of orange juice and a cigarette steadily burning away in the other. By the look of her, she hadn't realised he was there at all, taking a seat upon the closed toilet lid as she used the light of the windows to read by.

“Morning,” She spoke nonchalantly, such a calm acknowledgement of his naked presence that it was almost more jarring than the intrusion itself. For a moment Rosie could do nothing but gape, his mouth opening and closing like a dying fish as he searched for something to say.

"... Do you mind?"

Her gaze flitted away from the newspaper and met his eyes for a moment. He shrank farther below the surface of the water, praying to God she couldn't see anything below the rim of the tub. Her expression showed no recognition of what he was referring to. After a moment of silence, Frankie shrugged. “Nothing I haven't seen before.”

“It's everything you haven't seen before!” Rosie cried, almost bolting upwards again before remembering what was happening.

"No, but like. In general," She was peering back down at her newspaper, finishing off her juice. Her cigarette was almost entirely burnt out, but she took one last puff before tossing it into the empty glass as if it were an ashtray.

He blinked slowly. "Frankie. Why are you here."

"Sun's on this side of the house," Frankie replied as if it were a normal answer to give - as if her room didn't have electric lighting, as if she weren't sitting a mere ten feet away from his nakedness. Even in a bathroom as huge as this one, it was making him nervous. She seemed to be able to sense it. "D'you want me to leave?"

"Yes. I think so."

She nodded, standing up to go, her eyes still locked on the paper as she made for the door. Before he even knew what he was saying, he spoke. "Wait."

Frankie looked up, smiling slightly at the way his head peeked over the edge of the bathtub, his cheeks flushed bright red. "You don't have to... if you don't want to. I mean, as long as you're not lookin'-"

"I didn't come in here with the intention of staring at your arse, Captain," She shook her head, chuckling as she returned to her perch.

"Why did you?"

"I told you. Good lighting."

He shook his head. It sounded like bullshit to him. But if it was the story she was sticking with, Rosie wasn't going to keep prying. "Just throw me a towel, will ya?" He shook his head, reaching an arm out to catch it as she tossed one across the room from where they had been stacked beside the radiator.

Frankie kept her word, turning her back as he rose out of the still-warm water, wrapping the towel around his waist as a single, wet curl dangled in front of his face.

"Uh. Frankie?"

"Hm?"

"You're sitting next to my clothes."

He'd left them folded in a pile on the floor where they couldn't get wet, which just so happened to now be right next to her feet. She bent down, snatching the pile and holding it out to him, her gaze still purposely fixed on her reading. But as he reached out to take it, his belt slid from atop his shirt, landing on the floor with a clatter.

"Shit," Frankie muttered, and the pair moved to retrieve it simultaneously. She caught a glimpse of him and for a moment she froze, her face heating up and turning a fierce red. "Uh, no, this is weird, I'm just gonna... go."

Leaping to her feet, she began hurriedly making to leave, gaze fixed on the door handle to prevent it from wandering anywhere near him. Rosie nodded hurriedly, attempting to shrug on his shirt whilst still holding up the towel with one hand. "I'm sorry," He blurted, although what he was apologising for he couldn't quite say.

The moment he spoke, she turned on her heel, tossing her newspaper onto the floor. She'd been back and forth across that room so many times she was starting to feel dizzy. Or maybe it wasn't that. Her heart was beating too fast for her body, and she let out a huff of air as she crossed the room towards him, taking his damp face in her hands. Rosie's chest rose and fell over and over as he stared back at her, their noses almost touching from the closeness.

She wasn't sure she'd ever seen eyes so... blue.

His breath hitched in his throat as she tilted her head upwards, their lips in line with one another's. He'd barely have to move to kiss her now, warm breath fanning his cheek.

A knock came at the door, and Frankie pulled away so fast it was as if she'd been electrocuted, unable to breathe as she waited for whoever was outside to speak.

"Sergeant Bevan?" The voice of one of the staff members came, a warm, American lilt to her greeting. "There's a call for you downstairs."

She swallowed hard, her throat so dry it hurt. "I'll be there in a sec," Frankie called in return, her words shaky. Pausing for a moment, entirely unmoving, she broke the stillness with a firm nod, reaching for her stuff as she stepped towards the door.

"Frankie, wait," Rosie whispered, moving to follow, careful not to speak loud enough for the woman outside to hear. "Just wait a sec, can we-"

"I need to go," She met his eyes, and for a moment he was drowning in the sheer indecipherable nature of her expression. Her thoughts had always been a mystery to him, and now was no different.

He stepped behind the door as she opened it, obscuring himself from the view of anyone outside, fighting the urge to reach out to her as she left. The door closed behind her with a gentle click, and then he was alone, the room feeling suddenly twice as large and empty as it had before. Rosie let out a deep breath, pressing his forehead against the wood with a faint thud.

"... Dammit."

#masters of the air #masters of the air oc #masters of the air fic #rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal x oc #mota oc #mota fic #frankie x rosie #oc: frankie #pappy lewis #charles bailey #fic | i'm your man

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pupkou · 9 months

Text

✧ Blood and Darkness ✧

✦ Zagreus (Hades 2018) x Gender Neutral Reader. ✦ Warnings: slight mentions of gore (no details; in the game, Zagreus is killed over and over and is often covered in blood), head injury (reader is hurt, non-fatally, and is knocked out by hitting their head), mentions of Zagreus’ sexual escapades (no descriptions), reader is a servant of the house of Hades and is described as a shade, no smut (😞)... yet (😏). ✦ Word Count: 2.2K. ✦ Read on AO3. ✦ Part 1 / ?

You've heard rumors about Hades' son.

They say he's not in possession of a particularly impressive stature; he's of average height, with dark hair, and he's quite thin, really, for a God. That's what he is, after all, just a God of the Underworld. One of many. And one who looks like he's not indulging himself in ambrosia and nectar as much as he should be at that, it almost seems like he's ungrateful for all the blessings and curses that come along with being the Prince of the Underworld.

They describe him as far smaller and more pathetic than Achilles, their blush showing on their ghostly complexions as they describe how his hair is cropped close to his neck and black and unflowing, not at all like the golden locks that fall around Achilles' nape.

Oh, Achilles, why must you torture us with your divine beauty and arrogant sneer? We know our ghastly, hellish faces are unworthy of your gaze, but a small, simple kindness-- in the form of a smile from your handsome face-- would satisfy us for eternities to come. By Achilles, by Thetis, and by Zeus, please let him stroll by and be pleased by something enough to smile for us, even if his pleasure comes from our misery. Surely, one of us can think of something to poke fun at Hector... much like the spear of Achilles' poked at his neck... surely so, surely so...

They... say a lot of things, but they always call him Zagreus, which means 'great hunter'. But by the rumors you've heard, it... doesn't seem like Zagreus' name fits him very well. In Tartarus' maze, everything becomes prey to those that inhabit the different levels of death and despair that come before you feel the sun's warm embrace, or so you've heard. You've never actually felt the sun, but you have heard Achilles brag about it to Hades, reminding the king of his very eventful life on earth. The sun doesn't reach this far down, though, and is unable to illuminate the depths of Hades' realm or comfort those who call it home. Here, predators lurk around every moss-covered turn, under every magma-concealing rock, behind every skullified hero's dug-up grave, and even amongst the distinguished guests that frequent the house of Hades.

From the whispers you've strained to hear, it seems like Zagreus wants out of this place-- the Underworld, that is. The shades, your main source of information on Zagreus and the other residents of the house, love to gossip, and they say he's still not been successful in escaping the darkness that has consumed him since he was born. Some root for him, hoping that one day his laurels will know what it feels like to soak in the blazing sun like the blessed olive trees they were harvested from, while others laugh at his failure, joining Hypnos' chorus of dramatic mocking, when they see him rise from the blood once again.

He's always covered in it, head to toe, deep red and maroon coating his limbs and soaking from his limbs as if it were his own. Much of it is, considering the amount of times he's died, but that doesn't make it any less pitiful to see the Prince rise from the fluid of life (and death), unrelenting in his attempts to escape his home. He'd hardly call it that, of course, as you've heard him say as he climbs the marble steps leading from the pool of blood, wiping his glowing feet on the carpet that you think was one of Arachne's (hence its purpose being for Zagreus to wipe his bloody feet on.)

The thing about marble-- what the house of Hades is made out of-- is that it doesn't absorb sound in the slightest. It's a curse for embarrassed shades trying to quietly explain how they arrived in Tartarus early because their pet goat rammed them in the stomach, but a blessing for beings like you who get most of their daily excitement from the things that they hear refracted off of the cool stone walls.

Marble also doesn't quickly absorb any liquid poured onto its surface, despite being a porous stone, which means that you, one of the poor shades tasked with cleaning, have a lot of work to do. Guests in the house get rowdy at the kitchen bar sometimes, drinking too much ambrosia and leaving various liquids behind. Sometimes water from the river Styx drips from cracks in the ceiling, pooling and causing problems for anyone whose flesh comes in contact with the liquid. And on the worst days, the most stubborn of fluid comes in contact with the objects you're in charge of keeping tidy.

One of Cerberus' heads is a particularly messy eater, which means that sometimes droplets of blood from a cut of meat (or carcass) he's eating are flung onto precious objects. Another guest, who is said to be armed with a barbed whip, has been said to make her victims cry blood on occasion, staining the good dinner napkins and frustrating you profusely. But by far, the being who makes the worst, bloody messes, is Zagreus himself.

Despite him wiping his feet on the carpet and despite your polite suggestion to him-- a sheet for him to dry off with laid over the marble railing, Zagreus continuously trails blood all over the house. And it doesn't help that the Prince behaves like a dog, prodding at his ears when they're clogged with blood and scratching at his head to dislodge it from his scalp. He's even shook like a filthy mutt before, letting drops of blood fly from his dark hair and unknowingly creating hours of cleanup for you. You've always been forgiving, though, considering that for one, you don't have much of a choice, and two, that you've never actually spoken to Zagreus in all of your years working for the house. You've heard his name boomed in anger from Hades' decision chamber, whispered by a loose-lipped shade with an audience to entertain, and uttered during more private affairs when you shouldn't have been pressing an ear to the dark wood of his bedchamber.

But things happen. And you've never met him, so you don't feel too bad or worry too much about ever being in his presence. He's always gone anyway, wooing an undead maiden when he's not fighting to flee the house, you presume. So when you enter his bedroom dust off his belongings and collect his blood and gut soiled robes, you pay little attention to your surroundings.

You've been in his sleeping chambers many times since you've been trusted with entry, something the other cleaning shades consider a privilege. You scoff at the idea that cleaning up the Prince's dirty laundry, various collected knickknacks, and... bodily fluids is at all a privilege, but you do as you're told anyway because admittedly, it is interesting to be provided with such an intimate view of someone you've never met. There's so much to be told by someone's bedroom, or in Zagreus' case, the state of someone's sheets (his always are in various stages of disarray from his frequent activities held within the bedchamber), and you don't at all mind the exclusive perspective on the Prince.

You do, however, mind that he tracks blood everywhere. Usually, you're more aware of it, considering how much of your life you spend cleaning it up, but this time, you're not so lucky as to notice its presence. Abnormally, the carpet that cushions the foot of Zagreus' bed is kicked up in one spot so that when you move to straighten the books on his bookshelf, not only do you trip on the carpet, but you slip in a pool of blood, streaking it across the tile as you fall hard onto the floor. The force with which your head hits the hard, stone floor would surely have killed you had you not died ages ago, but in this extended lifetime, all it does is send the lower half of your body into the bookshelf's feet, knocking books, scrolls, and what are surely precious artifacts from Zagreus' journeys flying to the floor in a great crash that shakes and echoes through the room.

Although you're thoroughly disoriented and on the verge of passing out, you still hear a gravelly, skeletal voice in the distance say, "Maybe you'd better investigate that, boyo. Unless you don't got the guts! I sure don't! Ha ha ha!" before your eyes close and your mind descends to darkness.

✧✧✧

Rest, even when injury is involved, is rare for a servant of Hades like you, and it feels like only a moment has passed before your eyes are opening again, drowsy and weak as the lids flutter open. While you can't quite understand why yet, you notice that you're lying on a bed softer than a cloud and warmer than the sun (as you imagine it), and that soft voices are speaking in hushed tones nearby. One is older than the other, and commands the other to be more quiet as he worries, as though he's fretting about you.

Your sight comes back to you gradually, and you see that a red blanket with golden lining is draped over your legs and midsection comfortably, keeping you warm and still as the shocks of the pain from your head pulse through your body. Your neck hurts too, but it retains just enough of its strength that you're able to lift your hurting head and see the two forms hovering at the bedside, far enough to indicate that they were worried you might spring up like an undead warrior looking for revenge, but concerned enough that they needed to stay close.

The one on the left, who's farther from you, is a reanimated human's skeleton. A Bloodless, as they're called, was once a mortal warrior that did not receive a proper burial, and is now forced to roam the Underworld aimlessly, looking for a fight that might bring them eternal peace. It's a foolish game to play, of course, as all wise men know that no war will ever bring peace. This Bloodless doesn't seem mindless like the others though, and is able to make eye contact with his bright red irises, although he seems uncomfortable doing so. He looks at his partner when you meet his gaze.

His partner stands closer to you, his face full of concern as it points at you, studying you. He's not very tall, but he's muscular as if he uses his body more than the average God trapped in Tartarus for all of eternity, and the half of his torso that's revealed lacks scarring-- in the dimness of the room, it's almost like his skin is glowing faintly. His face is kind and handsome, unlike anyone you've ever seen before. On top of his short, dark hair rests a loop of multi-colored laurels whose crimson color fades into red, which fades into copper, which fades into gold.

It sits on his head like a crown, much like the dark-haired child in the portrait of Cerberus that hangs in the great hall wore, you think. Identical to it, even. You've never actually stopped to read the plaque that hangs beneath the masterpiece, so you're not sure who the child or his companions are or what their names could be-- you just know that he is of the utmost importance to Hades considering he is the center of a few artistic representations, which Hades isn't often fond of. But before you can begin your quest to discover the identity of the child in the portrait, he speaks.

"Hello, dear friend," he says softly. "Can you hear me?"

You swallow, hoping your voice still works, and say, "Yes."

"Woah! This one's got no respect for royalty! They just employ any- body these days! Ha!" the Bloodless jokes, elbowing his partner in the ribs humorously. Unfortunately for him, his partner doesn't laugh, he just keeps his attention steady on you, his heterochromatic eyes caring as they watch you. In any other case, he would push the Bloodless over and reduce him (temporarily) to a scattered pile of bones, but there are things more important to worry about than someone’s mistimed joke.

At the skeleton’s words, your stomach drops as all the blood rushes to your head all at once, and your heart starts beating so hard you can hear it in your ears, a pounding rhythm usually reserved for life-or-death situations. Suddenly, the room becomes familiar again-- the picture frames you've dusted and the knickknacks you've arranged and the blankets you've straightened thousands of times become clear to you.

You're in Zagreus' bedroom.

Prince Zagreus' bedroom.

And you're lying in his bed.

And the man, who was once a baby with a crown of laurels forced (by magic) to sit still for a portrait, is right in front of you.

The one person in the house of Hades who you've never come in contact with is standing at your bedside because you slipped in his blood.

You are so extremely damned. Somehow, even more than the first time you got damned to Tartarus for all eternity.

Blood and darkness.

✧✧✧

tagging people I think might like this <3

@vampireloverz @allright @transchainsawman @moonsong1027 <3

#zagreus x reader #zagreus x gn reader #zagreus x gender neutral reader #hades game x reader #hades x reader #zagreus hades game x reader

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mi-i-zori · 11 days

Text

From the Seas to the Skies

CoD - Nikto

SYNOPSIS : When his mind becomes overwhelmed with daylight, Nikto finds comfort in the night.

WARNINGS : Dark thoughts (Nikto is thinking about death). Could be read as angst with comfort ? Please read at your own risk.

Author’s Note : I wanted to write something for Mermay, but didn’t really have anything that came to mind. So I mixed my own love for both the sea and the sky, and took a few hours to write this. Not exactly something related to mermaids, but it is inspired by the sea, so. I really like exploring a character’s thoughts, so I gave Nikto a little backstory here. Hope you like it !

I do not give anyone permission to re-publish, re-use and/or translate my work, be it here or on another platform.

Nikto has always been a dreamer.

When night falls, coating both sky and Earth in a dark, velvety cloak, the world falls silent. Its expectations, weighing heavy on his mind during the day, seem to vanish without a trace for a few hours. No one is there to watch him with barely-concealed suspicion, to judge him simply for the way he carries himself - condemning the walls he keeps building around himself in a desperate attempt to protect his mind.

Only when the moon rises in the sky, full of beauty and peace, can he allow himself to breathe. To lay down under its light, feeling it place a gentle caress on his scars despite the too many layers he constantly wears. His heart finally finds a steady pace to follow. Bad-dum, it sighs as he closes his eyes, ba-dum, ba-dum - an echo he easily thinks to be gone the second the sun lightens the horizon. It’s living, soothing, hoping.

Nikto learned a long time ago to never take this feeling for granted.

He wonders if the moon taught him what it is like to love, and be loved. And yet, he can’t help but favour the nights it marks through its absence, giving way to a mesmerising sight.

A void. A celestial abyss, so similar to what lies within his soul. When his missions send him to the most remote areas of the world, a simple glance allows him to take in the beauty hiding behind such a terrifying darkness ; the thousands and thousands of diamonds sewed onto the never-ending fabric, blinking at him like his own eyes blink at them. Sometimes, he can see colours through their light, the faintest blues and reds - and he remembers a moment lost in the blur of his childhood, when a now faceless man told him about the meaning of these peculiar hues.

« When a star is blue, » the vision says, « it means it’s still young ; due to live a long life among its kin. »

« A red star, however, is seeing its fire getting weaker, colder. On the scale of the universe, it won’t be long before it swells and swells, swallowing many others in its wake, before either spreading destruction through a long-awaited explosion, or slowly reduce itself to nothingness by letting its fire consume it entirely. »

« It’s a scary thing to know, » the man says as the memory keeps playing in Nikto’s mind, the distant echo of his voice seemingly full of longing. « Our sun is a star. It’s very likely that it will end up swallowing us too, while on its way to its death. It’s up to Fate to decide whether our whole Solar System goes down with it, or follows a more peaceful path. »

Like one of those many stars, Nikto’s eyes are blue. He wonders if it is a sign that he will get to live a long life ; if that would be a blessing, or a curse. If he will face his end with rage, resignation, or peace.

After a few seconds of pondering, he finally remembers that man - though his memory of such times is still uncertain in many places. He was the only person in his childhood who showed any kind of enthusiasm when learning about his fascination for the skies. Who shared countless stories about how he himself came to love astronomy, the notes he took during his life ; tales of how the stars came to be, and the meaning behind the constellations. Nikto remembers how excited he always was to meet with the one he considered to be his only friend.

Once, the elder showed him a few of his favourite tattoos - witnesses of his love for the stars. Constellations, approximate attempts at recreating the likeness of a nebula, a rainfall of comets… The child he once was looked at them all with awe before stating how much he wanted to have one like this. One of the Bears, like the stuffed animal he spent his nights with for so many years. The old man had offered him a hearty laugh, as well as a ruffle of his once dark hair, claiming that when he would become an adult, he could have the freedom to do everything he wanted.

Words that now seem to hold both a form of truth, and a sickening irony.

Despite being long gone, that friend is the reason why, from time to time, he finds himself admiring the colourful photographs shared on the NASA website. Scrolling from article to article, from picture to picture, wishing he could see such sights from his tiny spot on the surface of the Earth. Nebulae, supernovas, syzygies. Galaxies, comets, asteroids. Suns, planets, black holes. Should he find himself lost in the infinite, would he be able to see his favourite constellations ? Create his own ?

Would he even have the time to do so ?

Or would his breath stay caught in his throat, unable to flow in or out of his mouth ? Would he slowly suffocate, clawing at his throat, the feeling of it all burning him down to the bone ? Maybe the stars would be the ones to lay him to rest, freezing his heart with a single touch while reaching for his soul ; keeping it inside of their never-ending, peaceful chaos for the rest of eternity. At this point in his life, he can’t help but think the universe would be much more merciful than anything he could find on Earth.

But you don’t know for sure, is what the whispers tell him in the dead of the night, and he can’t even find a way to reply through his exhaustion.

Instead, he opens one of his many playlists, and closes his eyes to the songs of the whales. Usually, Nikto despises the very idea of noise. It assaults his mind during every waking hour though cries and laughs, rumbles and clicks ; it’s sudden, sharp, loud, loud and loud, refuses to let him breathe. Yet he holds a certain control over the sounds he wears directly in his ears, the natural melodies he chooses creating a peculiar harmony with the inner turmoil that flows in his guts.

Sometimes, the more violent musics he plays help fuel his mind, stripping him down to his most mechanical instincts before setting foot on the battlefield. The whales, however, lost somewhere in the depths of the seas, always know how to appease his fire. How to reflect his moon into the ocean.

During his most vulnerable moments, when the Lady of the Night stays cloaked in darkness to bless him with the sight of the Milky Way, Nikto always ends up creating a bridge between the seas and the skies.

And then, he dreams.

He sees the silhouettes of the singing whales among the stars, leaping and twirling over clusters of rainbows. Watches the cosmic fish swimming up the nebulous currents, the burning sharks devouring asteroid after asteroid as they roam the infinite. Sirens lure him into unknown galaxies, circling around him over and over as he abandons all thought in the shine of their scales ; and he quickly loses count of the marvels they allow him to witness through the window of his mind, mesmerised by it all like he used to be when he was still a child.

When he wakes, the disappointment tears his guts apart. Reality settles in once more as he sets his feet on the cold floor, swallowing the lump forming in his throat. It doesn’t take him long to throw his usual attire on, concealing his face - and thoughts - once more. His iron walls progressively settle around him, steeling his gaze right on time for him to step out into the world.

The expectations are back on his shoulders, and so are the suspicious looks. The obvious sneers bounce off his armour as he makes his way down to the training grounds, heavy steps echoing down the grey corridors. The past night’s reverie is gone, buried in the back of his mind where the light of day never shines. But it will be back ; that is for certain.

For the night will never cease to fall, and the moon to rise. And under the scars littering his mutilated flesh, peeking out slightly from the underside of his arm, the Ursa Major stays the only remaining witness of a bottomless passion, and memories of a past he would give his life to protect.

A light in his never-ending darkness.

#nikto cod #cod nikto #mwii nikto #mw2 nikto #call of duty nikto #nikto #andre nikto #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod fanfiction #cod #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod mw3 #cod mwiii #mermay #cod mermay #mermay 2024

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bradshawsbaby · 2 years

Text

Pool Day

Pairing: Rooster x Wife!Reader

Author’s Note: I’ve been meaning to write more stories about the Bradshaw family, especially now that I’ve been going wild with Bradshaw baby fever, so here’s a simple little summer fluff piece!

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, Goose and Lydia Bradshaw being really adorable, Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw being the cutest dad ever.

(Peak Dad!Rooster energy in this gif!)

“Mommy, I want to swim!” Lydia exclaimed, wiggling in your arms as you tried to lather her in sunscreen. At three years old, your daughter already had a mind of her own and she wasn’t afraid to show it.

“I know you want to swim, sweetie, but I need to make sure you have your sunscreen on first,” you explained patiently, keeping a firm hold on the toddler. Much like her father, she hardly knew how to stand still.

“Why?” she pouted, huffing slightly, which forced you to bite back a smile. That was her new favorite question. Goose had been exactly the same at her age.

“So you don’t get a sunburn,” you told her, gently rubbing some of the Water Babies sunscreen onto her arms. “Remember when Daddy had those red marks all over his nose and cheeks?” you asked, thinking back to the sunburn Bradley had acquired just last week during one of his training exercises.

Lydia nodded, covering her mouth with her tiny hands as she giggled in merriment. “Daddy looked silly!” she laughed, standing still long enough that you were able to quickly coat the rest of her exposed skin in sunscreen.

“That was a sunburn. And it doesn’t feel good, so that’s why we put sunscreen on. It keeps us nice and safe from the sun,” you said, holding up the bottle of lotion for your daughter to see.

Looking up at the sky curiously, she asked, “Is the sun mean?”

“No, sweetheart,” you laughed, pulling her into your arms and adjusting the straps on her watermelon bathing suit. You’d just purchased it for her a few days ago and she’d insisted on wearing it today. “The sun is very nice. But it’s also very strong, so we just have to make sure we protect our skin so that we don’t end up looking silly like Daddy,” you grinned, tickling her belly lightly.

“Mommy!” Lydia exclaimed, laughing brightly. The sound of it made your heart soar. There was nothing quite like the sound of your children’s laughter. Smiling, your daughter rested her hands on your belly, exposed in the bikini you were wearing and rounded from your third pregnancy. “Can I tickle the baby?”

Tucking some of your daughter’s hair behind her ear, you smiled down at her. “The baby won’t be able to feel it yet, my love. But soon,” you promised her, rubbing a hand over your stomach.

Lydia looked like she was going to ask another question when your five-year-old son’s voice suddenly broke through the crowd. “Mommy! Lyddie! Look!” Goose shouted, standing on the edge of the pool and waving his arms wildly to get your attention. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him, sopping wet with a beaming smile on his face. He’d been particularly proud of the new swim trunks you’d bought him, the ones with the little airplanes all over them.

“We’re watching!” you called back, shielding your eyes with your hand so that you could observe him better.

“Look! Look!” Goose said again in an excited voice, jumping off the side of the pool and straight into your husband’s waiting arms. As soon as your son was successfully in the water, Bradley lifted him up into the air, cheering loudly.

“Did you see?” Goose cried proudly, wiping the water out of his face as he searched for you and Lydia once more.

“Way to go, baby!” you cheered loudly, clapping your hands ecstatically, which made him beam.

“Go, Goose!” Lydia cried, bouncing up and down on her small feet. “Mommy, I want to swim with Daddy and Goose!”

“Okay, sweetie, okay,” you nodded, reaching for her floaties. Your daughter had a lot of confidence in the water, especially for a toddler, but she wasn’t yet quite as adept as her big brother. “Here you go,” you murmured, gently sliding them up her arms. Taking her hand, you led her over to the side of the pool where Bradley and Goose were waiting.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Lydia called out, waving eagerly to her father with what could only be considered the world’s brightest smile.

“There’s my angel!” Bradley exclaimed, opening up his arms wide to her.

Giggling and completely without fear, Lydia jumped off the edge of the pool and straight into your husband’s arms. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, laughing even more loudly when he peppered her cheek with kisses.

“Daddy! That tickles,” Lydia told him, her laughter echoing across the pool deck all the while.

“Mommy, come swim with us!” Goose told you, paddling comfortably in the water beside Bradley and Lydia.

“Mommy’s trying to work on her tan,” Bradley teased, winking at you as he slowly lowered Lydia into the water, her floaties keeping her head well above the surface.

You stuck your tongue out at him playfully, resting a hand on your swollen belly. You still had a few months left to go, but after already having had two babies, you were certainly showing. “I’ll put my feet in for now,” you replied, walking over to the steps so that you could more easily lower yourself down to the edge of the pool.

“Be careful, baby,” Bradley told you immediately, lifting your daughter up in one arm so that he could quickly wade over to you and hold onto your hand as you slowly sat down.

Watching his father’s actions like a hawk, as he always did, Goose quickly swam over as well and grabbed your other hand. “There you go, Mommy!” he said proudly.

“Thank you, baby!” you beamed, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek.

“I mean, I helped a little, too,” Bradley joked, feigning hurt until you laughingly leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek as well.

“My two men. What would I do without you?” you asked, smiling between your husband and your son.

“Mommy, look! Daddy’s face!” Lydia declared with a laugh, poking at Bradley’s cheeks, which were already turning pink from his time in the sun.

“Hmm, just like I said,” you grinned, winking at your husband. “Goose, honey, could you go grab the sunscreen from my bag?” you asked, watching carefully as your son hurried off to complete his little task. Once he returned, you crooked your finger at Bradley, smiling as your husband dutifully waded over to you. “Alright, Lyddie, think you can rub that in for Daddy?” you asked the three-year-old once you had smeared light streaks of sunscreen on his cheeks.

Nodding excitedly, Lydia swiped at the sunscreen until the white streaks were mostly gone. “There, Daddy!” she announced, kissing his nose.

“Thank you, my love,” Bradley told her, resting an affectionate hand on your knee before moving back out into the water.

After you reapplied some sunscreen to your son’s face, he, too, hurried off to catch up with his father and sister.

Sitting comfortably with your feet submerged in the cool water, you took a deep breath and tried to soak up all the simple joys of the day. You and Bradley had become members of this pool club a few years ago, when Goose was a baby, and it was one of the best investments you had made. The kids were able to take swimming lessons, there was a playground for them to run around in, and the club often hosted barbecues and other fun events throughout the summer. Plus, you had guest passes, so you were able to bring friends and family whenever you wanted.

Resting your hand on your belly, you could feel the baby kicking lightly and it made you smile. “Do you want to be playing with everyone, too?” you asked softly, beaming at the sight of Bradley playing enthusiastically with your children. They were currently hanging off his arms, laughing loudly as he spun them around in the water. They just adored him. And so did you. He made every day so special.

“Is that your family?” an older woman asked as she approached the steps, looking ready to climb out of the pool. She was pointing at Bradley, Goose, and Lydia.

“Yes,” you nodded with a smile, rubbing your stomach without conscious thought.

“Ah, and another one on the way, I see,” the older woman said kindly, smiling at you. “Congratulations! You have a very beautiful family,” she added.

“Thank you, I really appreciate that,” you replied sincerely, your face splitting into another huge grin. You were lucky and you knew it.

“A very handsome husband, too,” the woman whispered conspiratorially, winking and chuckling as she tapped you on the shoulder on her way out of the pool.

“Oh, trust me, I know,” you laughed, waving to her as she walked away.

After a few more hours in the pool, which you eventually came into at Goose’s insistence, the kids finally tuckered themselves out enough that you were able to convince them it was time to head home.

Bradley wrapped the kids in their towels and then drew them into a huge bear hug, making them both laugh as lifted them up into his arms and claimed he was shaking all the water off them.

“I could do the same for you if you need, baby,” he told you with a wink, wrapping his arms around you as you finished packing up the pool bag.

“That’s quite alright,” you laughed, swatting his stomach playfully as everyone finished gathering their belongings.

Goose and Lydia fell asleep within five minutes of being in the car, so you and Bradley carried them in your arms once you got home.

“Are you sure, baby? You can stay here in the car and I’ll make two trips,” Bradley said in concern, obviously not wanting you to have to carry Lydia up the stairs.

“I’m fine,” you whispered with a smile, rubbing your daughter’s back. “Moms are superheroes, you know,” you added with a grin, nudging him softly.

“Oh, I know,” Bradley smiled, following you up to your apartment.

The kids were truly exhausted after a long day in the sun. They barely made a peep as you and Bradley got them ready for bed and tucked them in. Once they were both fast asleep under the covers, you and Bradley took a breather in the kitchen.

“There’s definitely some ice cream still in the freezer,” Bradley told you, waggling his eyebrows with a grin.

“It’s like you read my mind,” you laughed, grabbing the container and two spoons from the drawer. The two of you loved sitting in the kitchen together, sharing ice cream straight out of the carton.

“Our kids are so lucky to have you as their dad,” you told him suddenly, taking another bite of ice cream.

“They’re lucky to have both of us,” he replied, taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“I love you, baby,” you murmured softly, running your fingers over his slightly sunburned cheeks.

“Right back at you, baby,” Bradley winked, leaning over to kiss you tenderly.

#miles teller #top gun: maverick #top gun #x reader #x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader

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slu7formen · 5 months

Text

icy nights | cedric diggory x f.r

cedric invites you to go ice skating on christmas night, and how could you say no to him?

warnings: kissing, just pure fluff. <3

reminder: english is not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes.

“Where did you even get those?” you asked Cedric as he closed the front door behind him, the yelling and laughing of the people at the living room now becoming a barely mumbling as you both walked.

Cedric was holding two pairs of ice skates, one for you, one for him. He smiled as he talked. “My older cousins. They were the ones allowed to go ice skating during the holidays while I just watched them from my room because I was too young and I could get hurt. Now they get to watch”

You laughed as you kept walking, hands deep inside your pockets as you looked up at the sky. Despite being late at night, the stars were enough to light up the sky along with the moon.

Cedric’s house was a comfy place to spend Christmas at. It smelled just like the perfect amount of pumpkin and gingerbread, with the fire and those amazing cookies that Cedric’s grandma made and basically forced you to eat more than once. His family was nice, more than nice actually, really sweet and caring, and it made you feel like part of the family too, despite only being with Cedric for a few months.

His house was small, but it was located at a rural zone, and it had such a landscape that every time you looked at it when you woke up, the soft sun and orange dawn would take your breath away. Also, it had a lake, one in which him and his cousins would swim during summer and now, skate on during winter.

Only this time, it was just you and him.

“Do they fit?” he asked as he finished tying your laces, and placed one of his hands on your calve as you shook your foot, smoothly drawing circles with his thumb.

“They’re a little big, but it’s fine” you answered. He nodded once, then sat at the bench next to you.

“Let me put on mine” he said as he took off his shoes. “Have you ever ice skated before?” he questioned.

“No” you replied as you looked at him. You loved how soft yet smooth and marble looking skin looked tonight. His cheeks were red, as always, but it contrasted perfectly with the pale color of his face. His lips, plumped and pink, weren’t even dry because of the freezing weather. Unlike yours, you had to apply lip balm every five minutes.

Truth was, Cedric looked good at all times, but something about this particular night that made your tummy flip in a different way whenever you looked at him, almost as if it was the first day you met, in which you felt the exact same.

Winter just went so good with him. The turtle neck, the long coat, almost brushing his ankles, the ridiculously long scarf and his black jeans. His ears were red because he refused to wear a beanie, so you wore it instead.

Cedric thought it looked cute on you. After all, your cheeks were just as red as his and the soft cream colored accessory on your head that combined with your outfit just made you look like a tiny marshmallow to his eyes. He loved it.

“Okay, slowly” he pointed out when you almost fell once you stepped into the ice. You gripped his hands tightly as you closed your eyes even tighter. “Okay, honey, you have to use your eyes” you heard his laugh ring in your ears.

“How can you do this so easily? Skating backwards!?” you panicked. Your feet were moving smoothly along the ice, and you could stay like this forever, if it wasn’t for the fact that the reason why you were moving forward, was because your boyfriend was pushing you towards his body, that kept moving back and back and back.

“It’s easy, you’ll see” he tried to sound as calm as possible to calm you down. After a few seconds he decided to let go of your left hand slowly, to which you didn’t complain as much as he expected you to. “Open your eyes”

You shook your head.

“Come on” he smiled “I won’t let go of you”

He could never let go.

You both stopped your slow skating as you opened your eyes, looking down at your feet. The fact that the only thing that was holding you to the ground was a thin and sharp piece of shiny blade was what made you the most nervous. Staring off wrong would definitely make you fall to the ground and have the worst embarrassment from your life.

“H-how do I do this? I feel like I’ll fall”

“You won’t fall” he laughed out loud. “Merlin, you are so cute” he muttered almost to himself, but he knew you heard. It made your cheeks redder. “Just go slow, I promise I won’t let you go”

You nodded as he took the initiative, smoothly sliding his thin skates through the ice, which made a satisfactory sound anytime the blade cut the thick layer of frozen water.

You then started to do it on your own without even noticing. The cold wind of the night hit into your face sharply, but you didn’t care. Cedric held your hand as you started to go faster and faster, almost as if you tried to race your boyfriend.

“See? You got it!” he encouraged you. “Can I let go now?”

“No! You promised you wouldn’t, Ced!” you yelled as you abruptly turned around. The sudden move made you both trip in your own feet and soon, you fell to the ice.

Your butt hit the hard surface as Cedric slightly groaned when he hit his forearm, but quickly started to laugh.

“I’m sorry” you giggled.

“It’s fine, honey”

He sighed deeply as he let himself fall in the cold ice, coat getting wet and a deep freezing breeze brushing his head and neck. You imitated him, laying next to his body as you felt both sensations, the coldness of the ice and snow, and the warmth of his body.

The sky was shiny, just as every night that you saw this past week that you slept at Cedric’s house. However, seeing it from the middle of the lake, staring directly at it, was completely different than looking at it from a window.

This was much better. It was like your eyes weren’t big enough to look around you, but everything was at your sight. The leafless trees, the house yellow lights, the big and white moon as the stars shinned around it.

You suddenly felt out of breath at such beauty.

“It’s beautiful” you whispered.

“It is” Cedric agreed.

Only that he wasn’t looking at the sky. He was looking at you.

You turned your head when you felt his eyes on you. You thought his words, and hid your face in the thick layer of your coat to prevent him of seeing your poor red face. He laughed as he put his forearm over his forehead, really looking at the sky this time.

“I’m really glad you’re here with me” he said. The tip of his fingers touched yours, laying on the ice and wetting your fingertips.

You gripped your hand around his index finger, holding tightly. He secretly loved it when you did it.

“I’m glad you’re with me too” you answered, then turned your head to him, so you could live this moment one last time before getting back inside, as you promised Cedric’s mum you would so you wouldn’t get sick. “Merry Christmas, Ced”

His dimples showed when he smiled at you again. “Merry Christmas, baby”

#cedric diggory #cedric diggory x fem!reader #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory x y/n #cedric diggory x you #cedric x y/n #cedric x you #cedric diggory x female reader #cedric #cedric x fem!reader #cedric deserved better #cedric imagine #cedric diggory imagine #cedric x oc #cedric x reader #cedric diggory blurb

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stevesjockstrap · 6 months

Text

Cold Beginnings

@steddiemas day 12: Hallmark movie tropes

Rated: M to be safe | cw: alcohol | tags: modern au

Swinging his guitar case onto his shoulder, he grabbed the last of his belongings from the car and prepared himself to walk up the steep hill to the cabin again. This part hadn’t been on the fucking website. But it was beautiful, he had to begrudgingly admit. This writing retreat was desperately needed. The record agency wouldn’t wait any longer for a new album.

Hours later as the sun was starting to set, he looked up from his notebook when he heard the distinctive beep beep of a car locking. Eddie frowned. One of the selling points of this cabin was that there were no other houses around for miles. No way should there be anyone close enough to hear.

He went to the front window but he couldn't even see where his car was parked, let alone anyone else’s. It had been snowing steadily since before he arrived and now there was a thick coat on everything in the woods around him. All of his earlier footprints had been covered over quickly.

After a few more moments of looking outside, he shrugged and went back to working. Maybe he was imagining things. His brain was probably playing tricks on him since he’d never been somewhere so eerily quiet before.

A couple strings of lines jotted down later, he went to the kitchen to throw something together for dinner. He screamed as the back door opened and a blast of snowy wind circled him. Then an echoing scream made him scream again. Big brown eyes stared at him. He took in the red cheeks dotted with freckles and the long eyelashes with snowflakes sticking to them.

“What the fuck?”

“Who are you?”

Eddie stormed over to the stranger, who put his hands up in front of him placatingly, but Eddie scoffed and instead pushed the door shut behind him.

“What, were you born in a barn? And you’re dripping all over the floor,” he admonished.

The stranger blinked at him. “I’m… sorry?” He shook his head quickly before frowning at him. “Why are you here?”

“I’m staying here. Why are you here?” Eddie leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms, sizing up this intruder. He knew he looked intimidating with the tattoos and long hair and dark clothes. This guy didn’t seem very rugged. He was wearing a puffer coat for Christ’s sake.

He pulled in a long breath before excitedly saying, “I’m renting this place this week! Get away from the big city, right?”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. That had been one of the bullet points on the website. “Uh huh,” he deadpanned. “Well you must have your weeks confused, buddy. Because I’m renting this place this week.”

“No, I don’t think I do. I’ve had this scheduled for months. Maybe you have your dates wrong.”

Eddie smirked at him, sizing him up again. Maybe he did have some fight in him after all. “I talked to the owner yesterday, man. So maybe you’re at the wrong place or something.”

He grumbled as the man set down his duffle bag and pulled his cell phone from his back pocket. “There’s no service here, dickbag. Or WiFi. So that’s not going to help. Why don’t you just-“

“I took a screenshot, dickbag. And yeah, I know that. It was why I picked it, actually. No contact. Here,” he held the phone up for him to see. “Confirmed. One week, December third through the ninth. See the little picture of the cabin?”

Eddie almost took the phone from him in shock, but growled instead and threw his hands up. “Well that’s just great. Let me find all my shit and I’ll get out of here.”

“You can’t!” The man nearly shrieked.

“Now you’re telling me what I can and can’t do?” He said through clenched teeth. This idiot was already grating on his frayed nerves.

“Um. No. But, look, okay?” He pointed out the big window over the sink. Outside it was now basically blizzarding and the sun had fully set. “I barely made it here. Thankfully the girl at the car rental place convinced me I needed four wheel drive. The road up here hasn’t been touched and it’s- it’s like, really really bad. That’s why I’m so late. It took me hours to get here from the city. Now that it’s dark it’d be even worse. We’ll just have to-“

“I’m not staying here with you,” he hissed.

The man took a step back but looked at him determinedly. “It’ll be fine. I’ll take the couch. I’ll stay out of your hair. Maybe the weather will get better and tomorrow we can take my truck somewhere we can get service,” he shrugged when Eddie just continued glaring at him.

“That’s very noble of you…?” He raised an eyebrow at him.

“Steve.” He straightened up and actually pulled the glove off his right hand to stick it out for a handshake.

Eddie chuckled and shook it, squeezing hard enough that he watched with satisfaction as Steve’s jaw clenched. “Eddie.” He dropped his hand and sighed, the bag on the floor catching his attention. “This is all you brought?”

Steve looked down at the duffle and nodded. He only had that and a book bag on his back. “Yeah, didn’t figure I needed much.”

“Alright.” He scrubbed his hands over his face with another sigh. This was actually happening. Fuck his life. “What’s your stance on frozen pizza?”

Steve had stayed out of his way and had slept on the couch. But Eddie was still distracted by him. He had a pile of papers at the dining room table that he was reading over and would make little concerned noises or huff a laugh or sigh.

Rereading the words in the notebook in front of him, he was surprised that they were about big brown eyes and full lips (a helpful ‘dat ass’ scribbled in the margin). He closed it with his own sigh, throwing it on the coffee table and walking over to look out the front window.

Outside, it was still snowing. They’d found a radio in the kitchen last night and the weather report for the next few days wasn’t hopeful. It made the hair stand up on the back of his neck, staying here intentionally alone to get work done was a different vibe than being trapped here with a stranger, even an annoyingly attractive stranger. He wanted to get in his car and take off. Grumbling to himself, he yanked his hair off his neck and up into a bun. All this anxious oppressive energy was making him even grumpier than usual.

Grabbing his notebook and guitar, he stomped up the stairs. Ignoring the head tilt Steve sent him from the table.

Hours later, he had some pieces of a melody and a chorus. Only a million more pieces to go. But he had neglected eating and drinking and he was feeling rough.

He couldn’t hear Steve but he obviously knew he was still around. A part of him wanted to hide out upstairs for the next five days. But his stomach squeezed again and he sighed. He was not the type who could survive a hunger strike.

“Hey, I like your hair like that. And the guitar sounded good.”

Eddie bristled. He looked at the clock on the wall, wondering if it was an acceptable time to drink yet. Fuck it.

“You want a beer?” He grunted as he ducked into the fridge.

“So there’s you, Gareth and Jeff? What’s the other guy’s name again?”

“No one knows,” he said mysteriously. He found himself trying not to smile, actually enjoying messing with Steve after a handful of beers and some swigs of the bottle of Jack he’d miraculously found in a cupboard.

Steve blinked. “You’ve been in a band with this guy since high school and you don’t know his name?”

He shrugged, chuckling darkly and took another swig from the bottle. Steve shook his head. “You’re insufferable.”

“That, Steve, everyone does know,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper, before throwing his head back and laughing. He settled himself further into the couch.

“Somehow it works for you, though,” he shot a sideways grin at him while taking a sip from his beer. He’d only had two, and waved Eddie away when he’d offered the bottle. But it appeared that he was a lightweight. His cheeks had turned red instantly and his eyes seemed glazed. Eddie had insisted he eat more of the pasta and garlic bread he’d thrown together.

“Oh? Because I’ve been so very pleasant to you during this hostage situation, huh?”

“Could be worse,” he shrugged. “It’s been kind of fun. And you’re not as grouchy as you try to be, you know? I like you better when you’re being the real you.”

Eddie choked on the alcohol he had been about to swallow. As he tried not to throw up everywhere, a hand on his chest was pushing him back, straightening him up and he found he could breathe better.

“Fuck. Thanks,” he gasped as he leaned back and took some deep breaths.

Steve watched him intently like he was making sure he was going to keep breathing. He found himself liking this different attention, not having to put on the show or theatrics he always felt like he had to pull around everyone else.

He also realized Steve had moved closer and stayed, his hand hovering even closer between them in case he needed help again. It almost made him want to start choking again. They just sat there for some time, looking at each other until Eddie’s breaths evened out and then it seemed awkward for him to say anything. He memorized the moles and freckles dotted across his face and neck.

When he traced the shape of Steve’s lips with his eyes, he watched them part in a gasp. When he looked up into his eyes again, the full bottom lip was pulled in and bit into and a small noise escaped Eddie. Steve’s eyes dropped down to his lips and something snapped in him.

“Get over here,” Eddie growled, unable to wait another second.

They met in a heated collision of lips and teeth. He cupped his jaw with both hands and held on, keeping him where he wanted as he deepened the kiss. Steve pushed against it a bit, which Eddie found he liked. He allowed him to angle their heads and he gasped as teeth found his bottom lip. He was surprised when a warm tongue caressed over the bitten lip, taking away the sting. Sassy then sweet. Heat pooled in his belly and he wrapped an arm around Steve’s lower back, pulling him closer.

He groaned as suddenly his lap was full of Steve. He brought his hands to his hips to slide him even closer then gave into his desperate desire to grab handfuls of his ass.

Steve pulled away to breathe and he slid his lips across the pair of infuriatingly attractive moles on his neck. Scraping his teeth across his skin and reveling in the little needy noses Steve was making, his own embarrassing noise punched out of him when he was pushed back, not very gently.

“Ed- Eddie,” Steve panted from above him. His eyes were even more glazed over and his lips were red and wet and Eddie started leaning in again. He hadn’t even gotten to bite them. Steve pushed on his chest again, pulling him out of his stupor.

“Yeah? You okay?” He moved his hands off his backside and cupped his face again.

“Yeah,” he huffed a laugh. “Definitely okay. But I’m realizing I’m more drunk than I thought. Uh, more drunk than I’d like to be, to continue this.”

Eddie nodded quickly. “Sure. Of course. Got a little carried away, I think.”

“I definitely did,” Steve laughed. Looking down, maybe just realizing he was still in his lap, he blushed and Eddie helped him maneuver to sit next to him. “But I don’t want you to run away. I dunno, can we just keep talking?”

He pulled him close again, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Not going anywhere. Even if I could.” They stared into each other's eyes for a moment. “Hey, you wanna hear the song I’m writing about you?”

“Oh,” Steve covered his shocked face quickly with a shy smile. “Y-yeah. That’d be amazing.”

Eddie grinned at him, running to go grab his stuff.

He decided on the stairs that this week was going to be a good one.

#jumped into writing this for the grumpy sunshine prompt then realized none of it was Christmas cheer lmao #but here we are #steddiemas #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #rockstar!eddie munson #and idk teacher/editor/writer/etc Steve I couldn’t decide #hallmark movies trope #stranger things #mine #stranger things fic

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righoul · 10 months

Text

Oh Honey, I'm the Big, Bad Wolf / Wolverine x Reader (18+ only)

Pairing: Logan (Wolverine) x Reader

Warnings: nsfw, smut, 18+, rough sex, creampie, missionary position, doggy style, roleplay, biting, ass grabbing

Word count: 2.3k

Synopsis: I wanted to try and write a Wolverine x Reader, but would it sound hot if Logan poses as the Big, Bad Wolf? Anyways, enjoy 😊

You have been trekking these snowy mountains for so long you have lost track in time. The sun was starting to set, and it would be dark very soon if you don’t find shelter. These Canadian mountains aren’t too kind those who don’t know their way, and the winter is just as harsh at night.

“Damn it.” You whined. “I don’t have enough time.”

“Ya lost out here, Red?”

You gasped as you heard a deep voice rumbled behind you. You turned around to see a man that is wearing only jeans, a wife beater, a flannel shirt, and a pair of boots. You took in his features. He’s tall and very broad around the shoulders. His hair is a dark brown, kind of shaggy looking but it’s well kept. He also had some unusual facial hair, something that you would see in a Civil War photograph. But what really strike you was his hazel eyes. He is very intimidating, but you thought of him to be handsome. At first, you were confused at the nickname that he gave you but then you remembered, you were wearing your maroon velvet trench coat.

“God, you scared me!” You gasped.

He let out a chuckle, “Sorry about that, darlin’. Why are ya out here all by yourself? It’s about to get dark.”

“I know. I was trying to find my relative’s home, but I seem to lose my way.”

The stranger looked around us and stared back at you. He rose an eyebrow at you.

“There’s not a single house around these parts beside mine.”

You crossed your arms at your chest. You straightened your back and you felt like you grew at least a few inches. “As you can see, I’m not from here.”

“I can tell, sweetheart.”

You wanted to sneer at him, but you didn’t have a whole lot of time out here. Winters are brutal in Canada.

“Can I at least get some shelter, please? I’ll be out of your hair before you know it.”

“Alright, follow me.”

~ ❆ ~ ❆ ~ ❆ ~ ❆ ~

After hiking through the snow, the sun just now made it to sundown, and you arrived at the stranger’s home. Your mother always warned you about going into stranger’s houses since you were a child. Ever since you’ve been going to do errands and making trips to your grandmother’s house. But this is the one exception that you can make. The stranger unlocked his door to his cabin and opened the door wide open.

“Ladies first.” He smirked.

You wanted to smack that stupid look on his face so badly just for being a cocky bastard and you also wanted to kick yourself for letting his charms get to you. You were feeling like a schoolgirl around this man, for God’s sake!

“Thank you. You have a lovely home here.”

You peeled off your trench coat and hung it on a coat rack by the door. You rubbed your arms, trying to gain some warmth. You were wearing an oversized sweater that had a v shaped on the back and the front, and it was coming off both your shoulders. The stranger was trying not to peek at your front since he can about see your cleavage. You took noticed at it, so you rest your arms at your chest.

He cleared his throat and asked, “Ya hungry?”

“Yes, I’m starving!” You beamed.

You followed him to the kitchen, and as if on cue, the soap that was sitting on the stove was ready. He fixed up both of your bowls and placed it on the table. You sat across from him and dug into your nice, warm meal. The stranger took in your features. He had to admit, you were very pretty. You had curves in all the right places and the way that you placed your hair on one side gave him a bird’s eye view of your impeccable neck. He licked his lips just thinking about placing bruises and love bites on that neck and other places as well. His pants were starting to feel too tight for his liking, but he had to take his time with her.

“I never got to know your name.” You spoke after a moment of silence.

“Logan. The name’s Logan.” He gruffed.

“Logan.” You mumbled to yourself.

He liked his name being rolled off your tongue. Almost as if it was second nature to you. He could feel his bulge pressing hard against his denim jeans and it was killing him. Not yet, he thought to himself. You leaned down to eat the last bit of your meal. As you did, Logan timed it perfectly to see the tops of your breast, noticing that you were not wearing a bra. If he keeps this up, he might explode. Just a little longer. If even though he doesn’t know it, you couldn’t help but lifted your eyes up as you saw Logan getting front row tickets to see over your sweater front. You slowly got up as you both finished your bowls.

“I’ll go ahead and do the dishes.”

“Wait. You’re a guest, I should do it. Make yourself at home.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

You walked over to the sink and began cleaning. Logan followed you. He grabbed your waist and turned you around to look at him. You let out an audible gasp, but Logan for once ignored the tightness of his jeans. You start to feel the wetness between your legs, and you were sure you show Logan gave a whiff. He cocked his smile, showing his canines. He knew he had you in his traps.

“I don’t know what game you’re playin’ here, but I’m starting to lose patience.” He grumbled.

You raised your eyebrow at him and sneered, “I caught you twice looking at my breast and I’m the one playing games?”

Logan grabbed your face and leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours.

“Y’know, that mouth of yours is gonna get ya a whole lot of trouble if ya keep that up.”

Now, you were testing him. By not pushing this guy’s buttons too much, you apologized like a scolded child.

“Atta girl.”

Logan let go of your cheeks and you couldn’t help but rubbed your face from how hard he was holding it. You peered up at him through your lustful lashes. You decided not to fuel the fire and walked past him as you were about to grab your coat.

“Thanks for the meal, but I should get g—.”

As you turned to face your host, he slammed his hand on the door right next to your head. You were surprised by the action, and you looked up at him.

“The weather is still bad out there, sweetheart.” Logan said, barely above a whisper.

“I’ll take my chances.” You challenged.

Logan leaned towards your face and was staring straight to your soul.

“I never noticed how dark your eyes got till since now.” I whimpered.

“Maybe ya were starting to piss me off with your stubbornness.”

You tried to swallow down your fears, but Logan knows you were not hiding it very well. God, why did he have to sound so hot?

“And your hands are so big.”

“All the more to grab on.”

Logan took his other hand and gave your ass a good slap following with a firm squeeze. You let out a moaning gasp and before you realized it, you covered your mouth hoping he didn’t hear it. Oh, he heard it alright. And how it sounded like music to him. He wanted to hear more from you. He was starting to enjoy toying with his little plaything. Logan leaned down, breathing into your neck.

“God, I could do so much to ya right now. Ya couldn’t even imagine.”

For once, you were at a loss of words. Logan took noticed of it and peer up at you.

“Cat got your tongue, doll?”

“Please.” You whispered.

“Please, what?” Logan taunting you.

To kiss you already? Take you here in front of the fireplace? Let you go? Your head was spinning. You didn’t know what you want. Logan was focusing back to the area where your shoulder was meeting your neck and was placing small pecks. Your knees were starting to grow weak, and you were breathing heavy. He then began to lightly scrap your neck with his teeth, but his sharp canines got the best of him.

“What sharp teeth you have.” You moaned.

You could feel Logan’s lips curled into a smile as he is nibbling your neck like he was savoring it.

“So, I could claim ya.”

Within milliseconds, Logan lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist so you wouldn’t fall. He placed both his hands on your ass to help support you. He was now making long strides to his bedroom. Both lips were fighting for dominance, teeth scraping against one another, and your hands found its way to help loosen his belt buckle. You were starting to get frustrated, but you were determined. Logan chuckled against your lips, but he had a mission to carry on. You managed to unbuckle his belt as you both finally made it to his room, and he gently tossed you to the bed, causing you to bounce a few times. You peered at him seductively as he was tearing off his flannel and wife beater off, without breaking eye contact. You peeled off your leggings, only leaving you in your revealing sweater and black panties.

Logan’s eyes grown darker as he saw the show in front of him, in his bed, looking delicious as ever. He was starting to look like a starved man, and he couldn’t wait to take a bite out of you. He crawled towards you, placing slow kisses from your ankles to either side of your hips to your neck. To hold his weight, he placed both hands on either side of your head, caging you in. He leaned down to kiss you again, but you were refusing to let him in. He took noticed of this, so he slipped his hand underneath your sweater giving your breast a nice squeeze. You let out a moan, but before you close your mouth, Logan slipped his tongue inside, winning his dominance against you. Logan grew impatient and tore your sweater over your head and threw it somewhere in his room. You unbuttoned his pants and helped slid it off him as he did the rest and kicked it off him. Logan tore off your panties, leaving only your naked bodies pressing together. Logan let go of the kiss, leaving only a trail of saliva.

“Ya sure about this, darlin’? If I hurt ya, please tap me on the shoulder three times.”

“Please, fuck me.”

Logan cocked his eyebrow and gave you a smirk. That was all he needed to hear. He spat in his hand and gave his cock a few pumps before inserting it inside of you. He was pushing it all the way until he reached at the hilt. You grabbed onto both his shoulder as he was making fast pumps into you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, encouraging him to go deeper. He was fucking you hard and fast.

“Oh fuck, just like that.” You screamed.

“Ya taking me so well. Ya like it when I go rough on ya, huh?”

“Yes! F-fuck you feel so good!”

“Turn around for me, baby.”

You did as you were told and got on your hands and knees for him. Logan liked how obedient you were to him when it came down to sex. He’ll have to keep that in mind. Logan reentered himself inside your tight pussy and began pounding into you. Logan leaned down to your ear and started whispering dirty things to you. You were starting to see stars around you. He was basically fucking you stupid.

“Tell me what ya want, I’ll give it to ya.”

“P-p-please Logan! Cum in me!”

Logan couldn’t help but smile to himself. He loved hearing his name coming out of your mouth.

“Say my name again.”

“L-Logan! I’m about to c-c-cum!”

“Hold on. I’m right behind ya.”

Logan took his fingers and started rubbing circles on your clit. He knew you weren’t kidding when he could feel you clinching around his cock. His thrusts were starting to stutter, and his rhythm was out of sync.

“LOGAN!” You moaned out his name one last time before he began to roar into the sky as you climaxed. He thrust a few more times as he came inside your pussy. His thrusts began to slow, riding out his high. Both of you fell into the bed, coming down from your euphorias.

Logan got up to go to the bathroom to grab a wet rag. As he came back, he wiped you down first and then himself. He tossed the wet rag into the hamper and joined you in his bed. Logan pulled you to his chest and rubbed circles on your back.

“Y’know, I used to think that this whole roleplaying shit was gonna be a waste of my time, but damn was I wrong?” Logan chuckled.

You propped yourself up and gave his shoulder a little push, knowing it wouldn’t move him much.

“You see, I told you we need to spice up our relationship every once in a while.”

“God, I love ya.”

“And I love you, too, baby.”

You leaned towards Logan to kiss him a good night, but Logan had other plans. Before you could turn your back on him, Logan placed his hand firm on your chest to lay you still.

“This big, bad wolf could go for round two. If you’re up for it.”

#wolverine #logan howlett #hugh jackman #xmen #smut #fanfic #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader

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tashacee · 8 months

Note

You said you’d made aspect of grace to be a lot whumpier at first

*Looks right*

*Looks left*

You uh, you still got that whumpier version?/j

Genuinely though, what was it originally like?

Let me look through my drive, see if i can find the rough draft lmao

Okay, turns out i still have the entire original chapter and DAMN it is whump. OOFT.

Also originally the lizalfos that killed Wild was straight up Dink. I forgot about that.

Anyway, I'll put it under the cut if you're interested :)

Wind knelt beside wild, numb, his mind refusing to process, refusing to accept the terrible truth in front of him. Around him he could see movement, hear his brothers shouting, feel someone grab his arm and try to jolt him out of his stupor, but he didn’t pay them any heed.

It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. The world had stopped turning and all the colour had been drained from the world around him

Because wild was dead.

It had been a normal day, like any other. No, scratch that, it had been better than that. It had been a great day. The sun had been shining and despite the cool autumn morning they had all relished in it, stripping cloaks and coats and enjoying the rare day of quiet sunlight. They were crossing a wide expanse of wetlands, the sunlight reflecting off of the water as all of their boots and socks were soaked through, but despite a few token complaints, no one much minded.

It was a good day. They were all happy and high spirited, cracking jokes and grinning and messing about, Wind most of all.

Any other day he wouldn’t have grabbed the slate from wild’s hip. Any other day he wouldn’t have cackled and dashed off, waving it in the air in the world’s most childish game of ‘keep away’ he could manage.

Wild had yowled in protest and dashed after him, but fast as the cat man was, wind had a head start and was determined to mess about in the way that only a little brother could.

The others had joined in. When wild had been about to catch him, wind tossed the slate to wars, who nimbly caught it and took over running away, laughing all the time. Wild had been laughing too, yipping in amusement as well as giving the rumble that Wind was pretty sure was his version of swearing.

If he had really been mad, wind would have stopped. None of them would have gone on. But he was laughing. He was having fun.

Wars three the slate to Hyrule, who threw it to Twilight, who wind feared for a moment would give it back to Wild. But the Rancher just threw it back to Wind, sticking his tongue out at his brother while the others crowed in laughter, and wind bolted off again.

It was a good day.

And then it wasn’t.

The lizalfos had seemed to come from nowhere. It must have been hiding in the space between some rocks, waiting for them to approach. That was the thing about black blooded monsters, they were so much more clever, so much more intelligent, and this one seemed so much more than most.

It sprang out, teeth bared, jagged blade drawn. Its eyes glowed red against the oily black of its scales, and it radiated a dark magic so thick that wind could taste it in the air. He shouted in surprise and tried to leap out of the way, but his foot caught on a submerged root and he stumbled.

He went sprawling, dropping the slate in the mud as he fell and landing face first in the water. He barely rolled over in time to miss the next blow from the lizalfos’ blade. He tried to scramble to his feet, to get his bearings. He needed to move, to defend himself - he reached for his sword but he was of kilter, his hands were shaking and he fumbled. The lizalfos swung-

And it’s bland was blocked, parried away as a massive shape dove in front of him. Wild, his sword drawn as he repelled back the creature’s blade, teeth bared and growling.

Where were the others? Where they really that far behind?

There was no time to stop, no time to think. Wind finally got his grip on his sword and shield, ready to dove in and help his brother, but it was too late.

The lizalfos swung again. Wild blocked him again with his sword, but it was an old, worn thing from his own era, and it couldn’t take the strain. The blade shattered, and seeing the opportunity, the lizalfos lunged again.

And it’s blade met fur and flesh and bone. And wild made a sound, small and breathy and pained, his eyes widening in shock.

Wind surged forwards, kicking the lizalfos backwards and swinging at it wildly as the others finally reached their position. Wars, legend, and time leapt into battle with him, pressing on the beast as behind them Hyrule rushed to wild’s side.

It was only one lizalfos. Even black blooded, it shouldn’t have been as fierce, as intelligent as it was. It shouldn’t have looked like it was smiling. It shouldn’t have cackled when time finally ran it through, and rather than dissolving to dust like a normal monster, fading away like a shadow in the sunlight.

Something told wind that it wasn’t gone for good, but it was gone for now and that was good enough for him. Shuddering, he dropped his sword and spun around, running to where he had left Wild. He would be fine, they’d all been stabbed before, but wild was strong! He was hardy, he would be fine-

He was lying in the water, limp and unmoving. Twilight has pulled his head and shoulders onto his knees and was bent double over him, his face screwed up and sobbing. Beside him, Hyrule sat pale faced and horrified, his hands at his side. Why wasn’t he doing something? Why wasn’t he healing him?

The fur on wild’s torso was matted with blood, the water around him stained a horrible red. He wasn’t breathing. He wasn’t breathing

“Wild!” Wind ran forwards, grabbing his hand. “Hyrule help him! Do something!”

Hyrule just shook his head, tears beginning to slip over his cheeks. Wind knew why. He could see it plain as day, could see the gaping wound through Wild’s chest, knew that it was not an injury anyone could survive. Still, even as all of his brothers knelt around them, saw the terrible sight and understood the horrible truth, Wind could not accept it. Would not accept it.

So he knelt there, staring at his unmoving brother, holding his hand and not caring as the frigid water soaked into his trousers.

Wild was dead, and he just couldn’t accept it.

After Wild’s first adventure, the gifts given to him by his fellow champions had faded. His old friends had moved on, after all, their spirits finally getting to rest after so long in limbo, and one by one their gifts left the space where they had rested in his soul.

Wild was okay with this. Much as he missed them, much as he missed the powers they gave him, he was glad that they were finally at peace.

Mipha was the last to linger, and he wasn’t really that surprised. Her caring instinct had always been strong and she had always wanted to help.

Then the weeks turned into months. And the months turned into years. And somehow, although he couldn’t quite feel her presence, there was still a sense of… something. Something that felt like gentle healing and and glowed a soft blue. Not the presence of a spirit, but the tender touch of a blessing.

know this: that no matter how difficult this battle might get... if you—if anyone ever tries to do you harm... Then I will heal you.

Zelda theorised that it was the final gift of the Zora princess. That even though she herself had moved on, the healing power of her Grace had remained, in one form or other. Even with the scant few memories of Mipha that Wild had, he was inclined to agree.

This said, he had never been particularlykeen to try it out. Mipha’s Grace had only ever activated when he had been injured badly enough to be at the point of death, and funnily enough he wasn’t overly eager to get to that point. It was enough to feel her blessing, however strong it may be, and to know that she had found peace.

Now, though, Wild floated in a limbo.

He wasn’t entirely clear on how he had ended up in this foggy, dark place. Someone had been in danger, someone important to him, and he had acted on impulse to save them. He had saved them, this important person, he was certain of that, but in the process he had gotten himself badly hurt.

He was dying. He knew that. And something about that was familiar.

He floated there, in that dark limbo, neither warm nor cold, neither feeling pain nor comfort, neither seeing nor blind, and he wondered vaguely why he was still here. He was no longer in his body, of that he was certain, but neither was he moving on.

Why was he not moving on?

Maybe something else had to happen first.

He waited, and inside of him something soft and blue began to pulse and itch. Around his chest, he felt something begin to come together.

This was also familiar, but he was sure that whatever it was used to be faster, stronger.

Huh.

He waited, patient in the darkness, and then all of a sudden hhis awareness came back to him with a terrible clarity. He was Link - wild! - and he had been trying to save Wind. He had taken a sword to the chest to save his brother and he was dying, should be dead already -

But swirling around him, in the soft darkness of death, was a ribbon of blue energy, oh so softly knitting his wounds together. Mipha. Her grace, her final blessing, still saving his life so long after she had left hers behind. It would take longer, without the strength of her spirit to guide the healing, and it would not be as complete as it had been in the past. It would, he knew now, save him from death.

He couldn’t believe that he had been given such a gift. If such a thing was possible in this strange, limbo space, he would have wept.

Instead he waited for an indeterminate amount of time for the healing to be done.

And then he opened his eyes.

Every ounce of him hurt.

It wasn’t really the nicest feeling to wake up to, but given that he was waking up at all, he didn’t really feel as if he had the right to complain. In the past when Mipha had healed him he had come around almost instantly, his wounds fully healed and his energy restored, but it didn’t look like that would be happening any more. He was saved from the brink of death, but he still had plenty of wounds that needed healed.

And damnit, they hurt.

He wanted to groan but he wasn’t quite there yet, wasn’t quite ready to fully control his body. Everything felt so heavy. Instead he focused on grounding himself, on figuring out his surroundings, on what was happening around him.

He was lying on his back, on the ground. No not quite on the ground, someone had laid out a blanket underneath him. One of his softest blankets, if he was feeling it right. Aw, guys! He couldn’t help but feel touched that they had done that for him even when-

Oh. Oh right. They probably all thought he was dead. There was no telling how long he had been out while Mipha healed him. Shit.

Well, at least he hadn’t been buried yet. He really didn’t fancy climbing out of his own grave.

Again.

He focused on more of his surroundings. He could feel someone clutching his hand, their head pressed against his knuckles as they sobbed silently. Against his other side a small figure was curled up and also crying, less silently. WInd? And maybe Twilight?

This wasn’t good. He needed to move, to tell them that he was okay. He tried to put some strength into his aching muscles but he was still too groggy, his mind felt like he was swimming through a haze, his body not obeying his orders.

In the background, he could hear the crackle of a fire, but no one was speaking. He thought that he could hear a few more people crying, and someone moving something metal, was that a ladle on a cookpot? They weren’t trying to cook, were they? It was bad enough that Wild had died, now they wanted to give themselves food poisoning?

Wild tried to move again and was not successful, but did manage to push a low whine out of his throat.

THe hand holding Wild’s tightened and the sobbing stopped abruptly. To his side, the small figure that he was certain was wind sat up, moving close to his face.

“Wild?” Wind’s voice asked, horribly rough and choked with tears.

Wild was still too weak to move, but he whined again and managed to get his eyelids to flutter, his vision blurry but just about focusing on the tear stained faces of Twilight and Wind. Hylia they looked awful, their faces pale and drawn, their hair a mess. They were both covered in blood, both red and black, and looked like it had never occurred to them to clean off.

WIld whined again, and Wind shot to his feet.

“HYRULE!” He all but screamed. “Hyrule hurry up! He’s alive! Wild’s alive!”

There was a commotion at the other side of the camp as several of the chain shouted in disbelief. Wild focused on Twilight as the rest of his brothers rushed over, managing to tilt his head to butt at his brother’s knee and rumbling softly.

Twilight’s face crumpled into a smile and he began to cry again, throwing his arms around Wild’s shoulders and burying himself into a hug. Wild couldn’t lie, it hurt, but he didn’t mind and leaned into it as best he could. On his other side, Hyrule had all but thrown himself on the ground beside him, tear-streaked and breathless, his eyes wide with hope and amazement.

Wild looked around and met his eyes, purring weakly in greeting. Hyrule gasped and covered his mouth and then set about looking over Wild’s wounds.

“Twilight.” came Warriors’ voice, thich with emotion, “Come on, you can still hold his hand but you need to sit up so Rulie can look over him.” the Captain appeared in the periphery of Wild’s vision, gently peeling the Rancher back and helping him sit up.

Twi sniffed in an extremely undignified manner and knuckled the tears from his face, laughing weakly as he took Wild’s hand again. He squeezed it, and Wild squeezed back, rumbling softly.

He could see the rest of the chain hovering around the edges of his vision, watching and waiting with baited breath as Hyrule looked over his injuries. The slash across his chest was still there, though no longer so deep, and the myriad smaller cuts and bruises across his body were still open and burning.

The familiar pulse of Hyrule’s magic began to wash across his chest, slowly closing the wound and easing the worst of the pain. While no longer life threatening, it was still deep, and clearly too much for Hyrule to heal all at once, and with the main injury more or less closed he sighed heavily and flopped down next to Wild, exhausted. He turned to look at him, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, and buried himself into his side, sobbing.

Wild purred and carefully lifted his arm to stroke Hyrules hair as the Traveller burrowed in closer to his side.

“I think.” Came legend’s voice from beside Hyrule. Wild looked around and was surprised to see that even the bitter, caustic Veteran had tear tracks down his cheeks. “I think that means that Wild is well enough for us all to give him hell for that shock.”

Wild whined softly - the slash in his chest may have closed, but he still felt sore and exhausted. But Legend was smiling as he spoke and reached down to ruffle Wild’s hair. “Glaad to have you back. Don’t know how we would have broken the news to the citizens of cat island.”

Wild snorted and shook him off. Legend cleared his throat and looked away, looking suspiciously like he was blinking back tears.

“Come on, guys, give the idiot space. He’s just come back from the dead, he doesn’t need us climbing all over him.” Legend smiled and moved away, cheeks flushed with emotion. He pulled some of the others with him, Warriors and Four and Sky all pausing to squeeze Wild’s arm, shoulder, to tell him how glad they were to have him back before retreating to the campfire. At Legend’s urging, Hyrule stumbled up too and let the Veteran guide him over to his own bedroll where he could rest properly.

Almost immediately, Wind threw himself back into Wild’s side. Wild squealed as he jostled his wounds and Time, still in his full armour, still dishevelled and battle-worn, put a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, Sailor, go easy on him.”

Wind squirmed and pulled back a little, his face tearful as he looked at Wild. “I’m so sorry.” he whispered, gently setting a slightly muddy sheikah slate next to Wild. “If I hadn’t stolen it I wouldn’t have tun on ahead and you wouldn’t have - you wouldn’t have gotten hurt-”

Wild whined and turned slightly out of Twilight’s grip to nuzzle at the sailor, ignoring the pain that flared up through his chest as he moved. Rumbling softly, he disentangled his arms from his brothers’ grips to try a shaky sign.

“All good. Not you. Me. My-” dammit, he didn’t know the word for ‘choice’. Ugh, whatever. Moving on. “Wind. Brother. Family. Safe.” that would have to do, he didn’t know any more sign and he was getting exhausted.

“The only person at fault was that damn lizard.” Time repeated soothingly. “Go and get some water, will you, Wind? WIld probably needs a drink.”

Wild nodded and gave a thumbs up, and glad to be useful, Wind dashed off.

Now alone with just Time and Twi, Wild exhaled heavily. He understood why his brothers were so emotional, he was feeling pretty emotional himself, but he was really too tired to taake it all in.

Time sat down beside him. “You really were dead, weren’t you cub?” he asked. On wild’s other side, Twilight shuddered. Wild nodded. “But you came back. Did you know you would? Or do you know how?”

Wild shrugged weakly and then nodded. He didn’t know for sure it would happen, hadn’t even thought about it when he dove in front of the lizalfos, just acted. But he knew exactly what it was. Who it was.

Time’s face softened and he squeezed Wild’s hand. “Well I’m looking forward to you being able to explain, but for now let’s just get you comfortable. Okay?”

Wild mewled as Time began to pull out and set up his bedroll and myriad blankets next to him. Wild shuffled as Twi helped him to sit up, scratching at his scars. They itched like hell, and he had never been more relieved at how easy it was to unclasp his prosthetic and dump it on the ground beside him. Ah, sweet relief.

He let Twilight help him into his newly made up bed and happily collapsed into it, barely able to draw up the energy to knead with his free hand. Twi curled up beside him, unwilling and unable to leave him alone after the day they both had had. As they settled down, Wind came trotting back over with a cup of water and wide, anxious eyes.

Wild sipped at the drink and then seeing that Wind was still shifting nervously from foot to foot, held out an arm in invitation. Well. He tried. It was his right arm, which he had recently discarded, so he was actually just wiggling his stump. Still, Wind understood the invitation and immediately dove in beside him.

“I’m really glad you’re not dead.” he whispered, and both Time and Twilight snorted.

“I think we can all agree on that one.” Time replied. “Get some sleep, Wild. Boys, go easy on him, yeah? Hyrule wouldn’t appreciate you wearing him out. Nor would Wild, i’m sure, for that matter.”

Wild chuffed and burrowed down into his blankets. Wind curled in tighter, curling his legs around his brother’s. Wild wanted nothing more than to sleep, to get some rest, but there was one last thing to do.

He rumbled and leaned into twilight, nuzzling at his hair.

Brother he was saying brother. Okay. safe. Brother.

Twilight sniffed and looked up at him, smiling. He gently butted back. Idiot brother. Scared! Sad! He burrowed in closer, digging his hands into his fur.

Wild rumbled and pulled him in. Safe brother safe. Safe nowSafe. Twilight repeated, safe. Brother. Family. Safe.

#it me #replies #hero’s aspect au #hero's aspect #linked universe fic #linked universe fanfic #my writing

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