#even if i try to imagine having a functioning body that i like it's so hard to imagine wanting to have sex

[saintfaulkners]

.

#I've also been trying and trying so hard to like the thought of sex again but i just. don't #i don't know why #i used to like sex especially when was in love with someone i used to want it all the time #and like i know a big part is that my body just doesn't work anymore and there's just a lot of stuff i can't even do anymore #and the whole thing seems awkward to me because of that #because even finding a position where nothing hurts is a battle against my body #and dysphoria obviously plays a role too but like #even if i try to imagine having a functioning body that i like it's so hard to imagine wanting to have sex #i don't know what happened to me #i mean i do know #years of pain and suffering and trauma but #i think it actually started even before all of that #i guess there were a few instances of people not fully respecting my boundaries but idk #idk if it's actually got anything to do with that i just don't know #because again i feel like the problems had already started before that #idk. i dont know anything anymore

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

#*problems occur on a project multiple ppl r working on* my boss @ me: what do u wanna do? #me. disastrously burnt out: i couldnt not even to give a fuck abt all this. i dont care i dont care i dont care #but thats not what i say. i say ok ill talk to the ppl and see how i can drop everything to help. and that probably means driving an hour #away to the other uni which is irrationally terrifying to me to the point where it will probably destroy my whole week a prevent me from #sleeping when i already am struggling to sleep. but its fine. ill get it done and itll be fine. for this stupid fucking project i dont #care abt. ay its so weird. ive never been this angry abt things. i mean its not even really anger its more dispair and frustration but it #manifests as just wanting to scream and throw a fit like a toddler. and i mean its my fault. i dont have to live the way that i do. i mean #i do but in an irrational compulsive way that i cant entirely control. but like its Saturday and i sepent 6 and a half hours taking #measurements and then met with my boss for like an hour and she was showing me cool imagines and talking abt cool new collaborators at her #new school and im just sitting there trying to maintain a smile bc my brain is semi disconnected from my body and im so exhausted #ugh. my brain is so fucked rn. i dont want to drive with even lower functioning thsn usual. and i was gonna meet my friend Tuesday morning #for once. and i might have to drive back and forth multiple days. ans what's my reward if were successful? two fucking weeks of watering #and measurement taking and i might have to stand around other ppl in all that time as well. usually im off spinning in circles by myself #amd looking unapproachable. i dont want to have to b a person around the undergrads #god im so weird. its like from the outside perspective if u were looking thru the window at me u would see me using a hammer and assume im #putting something together and i am but im also hammering nails thru my hand which no one asked me to do #so then why do i have to do it? ugh. thats y its a hard thing to complain abt bc ppl r like oh it sounds like ur compulsive habbits make u #productive and successful and yea sure but they're also destroying my life. im laying on the floor doubled over in pain and ppl r like oh #look how useful u r. who gives a fuck everything feels stretched and distorted like im suffering some sort of selfimposed Devin punishment #whatever. fuck this. tomorrow ill try my hardest to relax. literally i cant remember the last time i stayed in bed until at least 7am. ugh #but i also have some bullshit i have to get done tomorrow so well see #uuuuuugh let me leave this place @ schools send me ur official offers pls i wanna plan out my life for the next 5yrs #unrelated

[littleogreboii]

i see a lot of people talk about edward being disabled in fma, but it's less often talked about how alphonse is also disabled. i think it's partially because alphonse doesn't experience physical pain like edward so for a majority of the series, he's not having any of those kind of symptoms, but he is still disabled. also because alphonse's experiences are unique. like you don't see ant walking, talking suits of armour in real life (unless they're piloted by a human being physically inside them) and in world, there are about 3 others like alphonse).

alphonse is dependent on edward's survival to function. after fighting scar for the first time, alphonse is literally in pieces. he can't walk or anything until edward is in a position to fix him. similarly his body is dependent on nutrients from edward's body. like there's the point towards the end where edward gets impaled and alphonse collapses. furthermore, these periods where alphonse collapses start to become debilitating towards the end of the series and massively alter his daily living.

also, alphonse constantly talks about how upsetting it is for him to not feel any physical sensations. yeah, he's not feeling physical pain, but he's also not feeling the warmth of a fire, the sun on his face, or the fluffiness of the cats he keeps petting. he talks a lot about not being able to eat or sleep, and how there's a lot of foods he wants to try.

there's another thing that highlighted by edward at one point. alphonse's body doesn't regenerate at all. the parts scar destroys are gone forever; edward stretches out the metal that alphonse has left to repair his body. and obviously human beings don't regrow limbs, but imagine if your skin didn't ever heal over a cut. how long would your body last?

also alphonse gets told several times that his body is great throughout the series, and he literally argues against it every time, because to him it is shit. like he is missing some of his senses just for some supposedly immortal body that isn't even immortal.

even once alphonse gets his own body back, the amount of physical therapy the boy has to go through. his body has essentially been doing nothing and only receiving what nutrients it can get from edward for years. by the end of the series, he's still using a cane as a walking aid. it's unknown whether he requires that cane for the years to come, but for at least a period of time he requires a mobility aid. I don't know enough to say what effect muscle decay from inactivity and severe malnourishment during a major portion of his teenage years would have long term.

#fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fullmetal alchemist #fmab spoilers #fmab #fma #fma brotherhood #alphonse elric #i will say im able bodied so that might influence my perception #also if any of the language or thoughts i had seem wrong or are used poorly then i do apologise #im writing this in the middle of the night so my brain is low-key soup #i just do think alphonse suffers as a result of his armoured body and alphonse edward and winry are the only ones to really talk about it

[seratopia]

miguel o'hara x reader (fluff) - intoxicated → she/her pronouns!

modern ceo au! what happens when miguel is drunk

It's extremely rare when Miguel goes out to drink with coworkers, it's rare enough when Miguel gets out to go anywhere in general. He's either cooped up in his office, glued to his work, or glued to you at home.

You suggested to Miguel earlier this week about getting out to a bar, along with a few of the other higher-ups of the company. It's healthy to get out, you said, even if all he's going to be doing is drinking alcohol and eating meat.

Miguel's only good with people in a more professional sense; he's not the best at being all buddy-buddy with people he usually works with. He's quiet the entire time he's at the bar, occasionally taking a bored nibble at a bowl of loaded fries.

He kind of regrets this; surrounded by loud music, loud people, TV's with sports games playing in the background. He just misses you, he wants to come home and make food with you.

One of his coworkers, nudged him in the side a bit, obviously gesturing towards the wide array of various drinks and juices.

"Might as well have a drink while you're at it." He says, and Miguel is just stone-faced the entire time. The man walks away towards the remaining group of coworkers, possibly to either go dance, or to stare at girls from afar.

Considerably, it's been a while since he's had a drink. One or two wouldn't hurt, especially as a last minute scrounge for enjoyment in this god-awful bar.

Slowly, Miguel nurses on a drink provided by a suspiciously sleek bartender, leaning his cheek into his palm whilst taking a couple sips. He can feel the wolfish eyes of various women & men staring at him, feeling somehow exposed in his tight white button-up and simple pants. If only you were here, to sit in his lap and run your little hands against his chest.

The thought makes his head spin, a violent hot warmth running up his cheeks, his mind being blurred like a smudge on someone's reading glasses. The room's almost tilting sideways, the thoughts in his head dissolving away. (miguelito is a lightweight because i say so)

Miguel's drunk, for the first time in literal years.

He doesn't like it; he feels out of control of his body, unable to think or function correctly. He feels like a different person entirely, his eyes replaced with jelly and the tips of his ears turning scarlet.

The drink tasted good and all, but Miguel's thoughts on you feel magnified, every feature, every action you do running through his head like a cassette tape. He misses you more, and he really wants to see you.

Cleverly, he pulls out his phone, sighing to himself on the counter. It takes him a moment to put in his phone password correctly, fingers drunkenly tapping on the screen until he can find your contact.

. . .

You receive a text notification at about 9:43. Expectedly, you knew Miguel probably wouldn't make it through the whole night, but you're proud of him for trying. You open up your phone, amidst watching a show in bed.

miguelito💞💓: My love, I am intoxicated.

The text makes you giggle a little, imagining him all red-faced and tripping over himself with his coworkers.

Conveniently, you receive another text, one from the person you asked to keep an eye on Miguel.

It's a picture of Miguel with his head leaned against the counter, lovingly zooming in on a picture of your face with his phone. His ears are red, and there's a half-drunken drink beside him.

james q: he says he misses you. want me to take him home? you: it's okay, thanks tho. i'll be there in 10 to get him. james q: 👍

Assuming Miguel's still on his phone, you shoot him a text.

you: i see u looking at me

You giggle to yourself, and Miguel is visibly both shocked and excited, peering left to right as if you were magically in the bar.

miguelito💞💓: Please pick me up. I hate it here. you: ok sweetie, be there in 10

. . .

Despite the hour, the bar is bustling as ever, populated with underage girls wearing slip dresses and drunk frat boys. You worm through the building, searching left and right for your husband through the cacophonous bar.

Finally, you spot him where the counter is, big head tucked into crossed arms.

Gently, you slip your hand onto his shoulder, warmly rubbing him awake. At first he flinches, staring at you as if you were a stranger. He relaxes a few seconds later, lovingly and drunkenly fixating on you.

"Hey hun, I'm here to take you home." You say, and Miguel feels so warm, so comforted in contrast to the rash environment of the pub. He wants to kiss you, but he's too drunk to focus.

Without a word, Miguel rises from his bar stool, arms and hands immediately inching around your shoulders. He doesn't realize it, but he's pressing more of his body weight onto you, leaning on top of you like a slug.

Seeing you roll away the finest, sexiest piece of man as if it were nothing makes the party around you fume, their thoughts of asking for a number shattered within a minute or two.

Miguel trails after you, gluing himself to your back as you maneuver yourself out of the stuffy bar. Finally, you're out in the cool air of the dark, muffled edm music booming from the block's other counterparts.

The sidewalk is somewhat barren, scattered with a few people smoking or walking.

"I missed you, s'much." Miguel slurs, seeing the outline of your car in the dark parking lot.

"I know you did, baby. Now you get to come home with me and we can do whatever you want, like we promised." You say, unlocking your car with the press of your key.

He smiles just a teensy bit, his heart warming at the thought of snuggling up to you in bed, or cooking a late-night meal of sorts with you while a show plays in the background.

Miguel's the passenger princess tonight, adjusting the seat backwards so he can actually sit. He stares at you the entire time through bleary eyes, watching you start the car as if it were the most artistic and most beautiful thing ever.

"I love you." Miguel says, and you can feel the gratuity in his voice.

"I love you too."

© 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒂.

#across the spiderverse #atsv #atsv x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #fluff #reader insert #romance #x reader #spiderman #spiderverse #seratopia writes ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

[collaredkittyboy]

Well it's come up multiple times today so I'll make a post about it.

I think the popularization of the word "twink" has ultimately been really bad for people in general.

I know it's hard to track the positive and negative effects of language but I don't think it's hard to see how creating a word for a group of people wherein the most consistent qualifying trait is "being skinny" is healthy for people's self image. Obviously people have lots of ideas about what it means to be a twink- gay, lacking body hair, feminine, beautiful, young, white- but the most consistent descriptor I've seen is "skinny." Hell, it's even a body type on Grindr; the size below "average."

So it kind of functions as a code word in the gay community: anyone can say that they're only interested in twinks and they don't have to look shallow by saying they only like skinny guys. It's such an accepted attitude that no one really bats an eye when they hear it.

I'm not even going to get into how it's become part of the larger issue of people turning "top" and "bottom" into gender roles 2.0, but that is closely related, because people with any internalized homophobia can look at a skinny, feminine man and turn off their fag alarms by viewing him as a woman or not a "real" man, and it makes twinks more acceptable to society at large.

No, ignoring all of that, one of the biggest issues is that gay men are taught by society that they are only attractive while they are skinny. Just having the label "twink" reminds a boy that people are looking at his body and judging it. There were countless times when I was growing up that people would tell me, "You're such a twink," or argue about whether or not I qualified as a twink because I had body hair. People around you, unpromted, judge your body and give you a label based on it, and that label has a large influence on whether or not you're seen as objectively attractive. I know many other gay people who say they wish they were a twink so they could be more attractive to guys.

So think, you have all these kids growing up being told whether or not they qualify as a twink, and then we have the gay community as a whole where it's completely acceptable to say you're only attracted to twinks. I think its because of all of this pressure to be a twink (in other words, to have a below average weight) that many of the gay people that I interact with struggle with a negative body image or eating disorders.

I mean, people talk about "twink death" like it's an actual event that makes a gay man much less attractive, and no one thinks that, maybe, it's harmful to tell a guy that the very day he stops being young and thin and pretty, he will stop being attractive and celebrated?

I'm not qualified to speak on fatphobia in physical queer spaces because I don't have the ability to frequent them where I live, but I can't imagine that these aren't issues at social gatherings as well. I also can't speak on my own experiences with weight discrimination because so far in my life I have had a naturally thin body, but I have experienced a lot of outside pressure to be thin that have caused me to pick up unhealthy eating habits to reduce my weight in fear that I could become fat later on. Thankfully that is something that I've mostly been able to work past. I'm not an expert, but idk, I just wanted to rant on my silly tumblr blog.

Obviously it's impossible for a word to be inherently bad. I'm not trying to imply that saying "twink" is a magic word with evil powers. Obviously the real issues at play here are fatphobia and harmful beauty standards and body shaming. But in my opinion, the popular use of the word twink has made it much easier and acceptable to express fatphobia, etc, in the gay community by turning "skinny person" into a "type of guy that you should try to be so you can be attractive."

#i know i sound annoying and woke but this is my blog and i can post whatever i want :3 #theres so much more to say but this is long enough as it is #no ones gonna read this anyway #gay #queer issues #fatphobia #cw ed mention

[urdepressedslut]

Hello lovely,

I saw your post that your requests are open, so I will give it a try =)

Imagine Bucky and reader are best friends but they have a huge argument and now they don't talk to each other for days. She's feeling really bad, missing him. He is her most important person and now without interacting with him for days, she's feeling lost and lonely and heartbroken. Maybe she has not a super power and is only a normal human, helping the Avengers with IT or something. Due to the argument with her best friend and not talking to Bucky (Bucky ignores her completely) she begins to feel it not only mental but also physically. She can't eat probably and at the end falls deathly sick.... With a fluffy happy ending and a worried and protective Bucky

Please. That would be nice.

Take care honey

oh my goodness— my heart 😭❤️ the angst is gonna hurt, but i’m such a sucker for it. i had so much fun writing this one, thank you for requesting and i hope you like it🥰

Love Hurts

♡ Pairing: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: You and Bucky get into a heated argument, things are said and done and now he won’t speak to you. You don’t think you can handle him ignoring your existence.

♡ Warnings: language, mentions of bucky’s trauma, heavy angst, malnourishment, depression, anxiety/panic attacks, minor injuries, hospitalization, suicidal ideation, self hate, literally hurt just writing this

main masterlist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | MATURE CONTENT 18+

Your nails bit into your palm, denting the flesh— threatening to pierce the delicate skin. It was all to hold yourself back, distract you from the words that wanted to burst out.

It was becoming a sickening routine, Bucky was reckless and had yet another near death experience on his recent mission. The anxiety and the nerves stopping your body from functioning— the dreaded wait for his jet to arrive back at the compound. You shouldn’t have to be used of receiving the call that he had yet again made a reckless move— but you were starting to discover a pattern.

It did nothing to ease the panic that swirled in your chest every time he left for missions. You’d sob, throwing up everything you had eaten that day— unable to stomach anything with the idea that Bucky was on a mission. You never found your anxiety to be so severe— but when Bucky was even mentioned about going on a mission… it spiked.

That’s where you found yourself in his room, watching him pace the space— avoiding your frustrated stare. You weren’t angry at him per say— you were angry that he didn’t value his life.

“Seriously (Y/n)— you get so worked up over nothing. I’m here and alive— isn’t that enough?” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration.

You pressed your nails tighter to your palm, yet the pain couldn’t stop your thundering thoughts.

“You’re here and alive now, until you do some stupid shit like this again and are dead!” You hissed, trying to keep your voice low but you didn’t know how much longer you could control yourself.

He glared at you, squinting his eyes in anger and then rolling his eyes.

“Oh for fucks sake— can you stop fucking babying me? I can handle myself!” He raised his voice, his metal arm whirring.

“I’m not babying you— I’m just scared you’re gonna get yourself killed. Do you care about your life at all?” You asked him aggressively, your voice raising just a tad.

He took a long pause, staring at you with his face void of emotion— only annoyance.

“Not really.” He admitted.

You were taken back, although you had these conversations with him a time or twenty. It was an ongoing process to get him to slowly love himself— his past as The Winter Soldier torturing his soul. He was so convinced he wasn’t deserving of anything, not even a roof over his head. It was a struggle to help him, but you weren’t going to give up on him.

“You realize if anything ever happened to you I—” Your voice broke, needing a breath, “Buck I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

You thought you saw his eyes flash with guilt, but before you could linger on the look for too long— his face was hardening again.

“That doesn’t sound like my problem.” He mumbled out, making your eyes widen.

You were extremely taken back from those words, your chest aching painfully— him not knowing what effect those words had on you.

“Are you fucking serious?” You asked him, your face morphing into a hurt expression, mixed with anger. “Can you just do your job without trying to kill yourself?”

His face grew red with rage and he was stomping up towards you— his face inches from yours.

“I am doing my job— very well in fact. Unlike you who just fucking sits here doing nothing!” He defended himself, his breath hitting your face in warm pants.

“Doing nothing? Buck— why are you like this?” You puffed your chest, not backing down from his towering form.

But your words seemed to have hit a nerve, as he shrunk back slightly, narrowing his gaze at you.

“Like what?”

You furrowed your brows, slowing your racing heart from the shouting— you weren’t sure you had said anything bad. Did you?

“What?” You squeaked out, nervous now.

“You said, why am I like this… like what?” He pushed, stepping closer to you now, his face still red with anger but you could see the hurt in his eyes.

You swallowed and wondered how to convince him you didn’t mean anything bad by what you said. But you were almost positive it would be an impossible task to get Bucky to listen.

“Buck, I didn’t mean anythin—”

“What— you think I’m not capable of doing my job? You think I’m still the monster hydra made me?” He spat, his chest rising and falling quicker.

“No, no Buck listen—”

That was definitely not what you meant, you could tell he was spiraling and you were still confused as to why. You would never make him think that.

“After 70 fucking years I finally have a job that I like— that I enjoy doing— I fucking help people! I’m finally doing some good and now you’re telling me I’m not capable of doing it?” He boomed, his chest puffing into yours and your stumbled back slightly. “You think I’m only capable of being a monster? Huh? Is that what you fucking think?”

You were growing scared now, the look in his eyes wild with something and you didn’t like how close he was to you— you knew he’d never hurt you but your fear overwhelmed your senses.

“Friday— call Steve and Sam in here now!” You shouted into the room, and Bucky’s eyes squinted painfully— his metal arm whirring again.

Bucky only saw one thing— you didn’t reassure him that he was thinking irrationally. You didn’t correct him that he wasn’t the monster. Instead you called for help, that you were clearly scared— because you thought he was a monster.

He was at a loss for words and just stared at you, almost through you— as his breathing was only getting heavier at the sight of your fearful eyes.

Not even minutes later, Steve and Sam were busting through the door, taking in the scene and separated you and Bucky.

“Hey— what’s going on?” Steve asked in between the two of you. “Buck, what’s wrong man?”

You couldn’t seem to find the words and just stood speechless as well— the fight startling you. This was one of the worst ones, and it was also one that still left you confused. You cursed yourself for not being careful enough with your words— but it was almost impossible to get through to him when he was on the brink of having an episode.

Sam walked closer to you, his facing morphing into concern as he took in your shocked expression.

“(Y/n)? You okay? Did he hurt you?” Sam whispered, keeping his words only between you two.

You slowly shook your head but still didn’t respond verbally.

“Okay, okay that’s good. You wanna go get a drink from downstairs? Why don’t we take a breather okay?” Sam suggested softly, big brother mode kicking in at the sight of your frazzled state.

Without another word, you left the room with Sam— missing the devastated look from Bucky.

Steve waited until the door shut, then his attention was back on Bucky.

“Buck, you gotta talk to me man— what happened?” He asked softly, watching his friend slowly relax, but it wasn’t from being in a relaxing mood— his body and mind were just exhausted from the argument.

“I fucked everything up. That’s what happened.” He mumbled, turning away from Steve to sit on the edge of his bed.

Steve followed behind but stood in front of him, shaking his head— ready to argue.

“You didn’t mess anything up, arguments happen. You guys will work it out. I know how much you mean to each other.” Steve pointed out, watching Bucky’s face unchanging.

“You didn’t see the way she looked at me— she’s scared of me I—” He shuttered, his breath shaky as he remembered your look, “I fucking scared her.”

Steve’s chest ached, the state of his friend breaking his heart. He knew Bucky meant no harm, and he almost for a fact knew that you knew that too. But Bucky for sure didn’t believe that himself.

“I didn’t see what you saw, but I can guarantee you that she’s not afraid of you. This is (Y/n) we are talking about. You are her world Buck.” Steve tried to convince him.

Bucky shook his head, running his flesh hand through his hair.

“I think I just need to stay away from her for awhile.” Bucky came up with instead.

Steve immediately started shaking his head, knowing that was the last thing he needed.

“Bucky I—”

“Please Steve… I just need some space.” Bucky pleaded, his body sagging in exhaustion.

Steve couldn’t find it in himself to argue with him anymore about this. Maybe he did need some time to himself, to cool down and gather his thoughts. Also Steve wasn’t going to force him to anything ever. After the years his pal went through— he would never make him do anything. He had enough things decided for him, and Steve wasn’t about to stoop to hydra’s level.

Meanwhile down in the kitchen, Sam was getting you a glass of water— standing across from your seated form at the island. He slid the cup across, sending a worried glance at you.

“(Y/n)?” Sam snapped his fingers getting your attention.

You were shaken from your state of staring, but even snapped out of the trance— the anxieties still swirled within you.

“Yeah sorry… I’m here.” You whispered, grabbing the glass and taking a tiny sip.

Sam gave you a quizzical expression, watching you start to slip back into a mindless stare— so he spoke up.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” He asked, genuinely curious what had went down.

He knew— hell everyone knew you and Bucky were extremely close. Best of friends, always there for one another— dancing on the line of strictly friends to lovers. Truthfully, Sam found it completely obnoxious and just wanted you two together already.

“I don’t really know… I think I said the wrong thing— I didn’t mean to make him upset.” You confessed, keeping your eyes on the countertop, not risking a glance to Sam.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up— mistakes happen. I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” Sam told you.

You shook your head, gripping the cup tighter.

“God I hope so… I don’t know what I’d do without him.” You whispered pathetically, tears welling in your eyes.

Sam reached out to rub your arm comfortingly, trying to relax you so you didn’t start crying. He hated to see you cry— made his heart hurt.

“It’s been a long day for everyone, why don’t you go head upstairs and get some sleep. I’m sure things will have blown over by tomorrow.” He suggested and you finally met his gaze, smiling weakly and nodding.

Without saying goodbye, you stood up and headed to your room. Taking Sam’s words and playing them on repeat in your head.

Tomorrow is another day, tomorrow would be better.

God had you hoped that was the case— it only was the beginning on the torment.

You had slept in longer than usual, but overall felt refreshed. The first thing that came to mind when fully waking up was Bucky. Immediately you headed downstairs to find him— needing to talk with him— apologize.

Making it down to the kitchen, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in at the sight of him sitting at the island— sipping at his coffee. You furrowed your brows, thinking he'd be done with his coffee by now, since you had slept in. Your chest ached with guilt with the possibility that he didn't sleep well.

You took a deep breath before making yourself known, although you were sure be could sense you in the room— considering he was a super soldier.

"Morning Buck." You announced, walking around the island so you could face him.

He kept his gaze down at his coffee, finding the cup more interesting than you.

Okay, that’s fair. You thought, you most probably deserved that reaction.

“You sleep okay?” You asked again, picking at the skin on your nails nervously.

Again— he didn’t even lift his head. In fact, he wasn’t even acknowledging you. You waited several minutes for a response, the silence becoming thick with tension and you couldn’t stand it.

“Bucky?” You tried, and this time he lifted his head.

Your heart twinged in your chest at his bloodshot eyes, clear evidence that he hadn’t gotten good sleep. You hated yourself for causing him the stress, especially knowing he was just starting to actually get hours of sleep. It was huge progress compared to his nights either screaming awake or just staring at the walls. But now you had to go and ruin all that progress. You felt sick to your stomach— disgusted with yourself.

“I’m really sorry about last night… I didn’t like how ugly it got and I’m sorry if I said something to upset you— you know I’d never intentionally hurt you.” You told him, picking more aggressively at your nails, causing to nail beds to bleed.

You swallowed nervously when he didn’t answer right away, instead staring at you with… what was that? Disgust? You didn’t know, but you hated the look altogether.

“Bucky, please say something.” You pleaded.

Bucky lowered his gaze to his coffee again, taking a minute before he stood up and looked your way.

“I just need some space.” He told you quietly.

You were relived to have him finally talk to you, but to hear him suggest space between you two— you could almost feel the knife digging into your chest. You tried to keep a neutral expression but otherwise felt your bottom lip quiver.

Without giving you time to respond, Bucky was walking out of the room— leaving you standing there speechless, lungs begging for air. You didn’t want your mind to go immediately to that thought, but you couldn’t ignore it either— he hated you.

“Hey babe, I need you to help me out in the lab tod—” Tony came busting into the room, but immediately shut up once he saw your broken expression. “Honey, what’s wrong? You alright?”

You nodded your head, lying to him and yourself and started waving him off with the fakest smile.

“Yeah— yeah I’m good. Just need to uh— need to get some things done.” You told him, your eyes darting all around the room, the familiar feeling of panic seeping into your being.

Tony gave you a ‘really?’ look and stepped closer to you.

“(Y/n) I’m not blind— I can see you’re upset. Talk to m—”

“Seriously Tony— I’m fine! Just leave it alone!” You told him a little too aggressively.

His face was taken back and you felt guilty immediately, cursing yourself for hurting everyone.

Why are you such a fucking issue? Your mind screamed at you.

You didn’t waste another second and sped walked out of the room, needing to calm yourself down before you ran into any one else. You were spiraling and you needed to just relax— take a deep breath. Maybe you just needed one more day and things would be back to normal.

Yeah… just one more day.

You had hoped that was the case as well… but as always— things only got worse.

Bucky refused to talk to you or even look at you. He’d given you the cold shoulder for almost two weeks now. He would get up and leave the second you entered the room. He couldn’t stand you it seemed.

You couldn’t keep hiding your hurt. At first, you had done a good job at hiding how you were really feeling. Saving the sobbing and attacks for when you were alone in your room. As the days lingered on, you found yourself weak and drained— you didn’t have enough energy to put up a charade anymore.

The whole team were sending you worried looks, and attempted to talk with you. But the second they’d try— you’d bolt. The subject was too sensitive, too raw. You didn’t want to talk to anyone but Bucky— and he hated you.

You had missed so many meals, forgetting to eat with your mental struggles throughout the days. You had been getting no more than two hours of sleep. You were so stressed, so stuck in your own mind that you couldn’t function. Even when you had managed to remember to eat, your stomach would knot up to the point that you were throwing everything up. You were gaunt, basically a real life zombie. You needed help— but you needed Bucky more.

You were laying in bed staring unknowingly into space, it had been hard to focus with no food or sleep in your system— so you had only managed to lay here. Even that was exhausting, no matter how much you laid around— your mind wouldn’t stop the assault. Your anxiety had never been this bad, you were a prisoner to it.

Knocking at your door had you jumping, your heart racing— and for a moment you forgot where you were.

You’re in the compound… yeah that’s right.

You slowed your breathing and swung your legs sluggishly over the edge of the bed to answer it. You weren’t prepared for the sudden dizzy spell, your vision spotting with black and white specks. You tried to blink it off, but suddenly you were toppling to the ground.

You fell to the floor with a loud thump, luckily landing on your front, your hands somehow catching most of your fall— you could already feel the throbbing in your palms.

You didn’t hear the persistent knocking, or the door open. You didn’t even hear the voice speaking from the doorway. It was when a hand landed on your shoulder that you were gasping, forgetting your surroundings once again.

Your eyes met Steve’s and you swore your heart was about to beat out of your chest.

“(Y/n) are you alright?” He asked you, hovering his hands over you— not sure what you had hurt.

You furrowed your brows, looking him over.

“Steve what are… what are you doing here?” You asked genuinely confused.

You watched Steve’s eyes widen and he swallowed nervously— his expression growing more concerned.

“(Y/n) it’s okay… I’ve got you.” Steve hushed, and he was pulling you into his chest, hugging you protectively.

You were still confused but then you tasted one of your stray tears, and you immediately came to your senses. You were crying in Steve’s arms… but why? You were having gaps of time missing from you, this wasn’t the first time this had happened— you just didn’t seem to care.

“Steve… my head hurts.” You slurred into his chest, sagging against him.

You were grateful that he was here, you desperately needed someone around. You were just hoping that someone would’ve been Bucky.

“Okay, let’s get you to Helen. She’s gonna take care of you, okay?” Steve asked you, and you could only give a weak nod.

He knew there was no way you were walking there, so he hoisted you up into his arms, and cradled your head as he started to the med bay.

You just stared blankly at his chest, not really caring if Steve were to throw you off the roof of the building. You just didn’t care.

Steve had gotten you down to her, and she checked you out. Alerting Steve that you were extremely malnourished, dehydrated— an insomniac. She kept listing off all the things Steve was afraid to hear. The whole time he was sure you didn’t hear a thing, although you were in the room— you were just checked out.

Helen eventually left, and Steve took his opportunity to speak with you. He pulled up a chair next to the hospital bed and grabbed your hand.

“(Y/n), what’s going on? You can talk to me— you can’t keep doing this to yourself. Please… just talk to me.” Steve whispered, pleading with you that you would stop torturing yourself.

“He hates me.” You mumbled.

Steve’s eyes widened and he frowned, knowing what you meant. He knew he let this go on for too long.

“(Y/n) he doesn’t hate you. He just needed time to himself, so he co—”

“I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, I don’t even know what I said to hurt him but I—” You rushed out, the heart monitor beeping frantically, “I’m a horrible person, I didn’t mean to— I didn’t mean to!”

You wheezed out, clutching your chest as you couldn’t catch your breath. Your cheeks glistened with a steady stream of tears, your wheezing only growing by the second.

“Okay, okay (Y/n)— I need you to slow your breathing. You’re okay, he doesn’t hate you. Just take deep breaths okay— even if you can’t just try. I’m here.” He tried to coach you, but this wasn’t his thing.

Now he was starting to get mad at his friend, Bucky shouldn’t of let this go on for this long.

You followed his chest rising and falling, staring at him as he tried to calm you down. Your breaths were heavy and painful sounding. Steve was about to say something but stopped himself when he saw your eyes look behind him.

He turned and saw Bucky standing in the doorway— his face paled. Truthfully, he looked like he was going to be sick.

“(Y/n)?” He whispered, his heart breaking at your state.

He had ran into Helen in the kitchen and was informed of your condition— he didn’t believe it and had to see for himself. He was shocked to find you like this.

Your tears only edged on from his appearance and you shook your head in shame.

“I’m sorry Bucky! Whatever I did, I’m sorry!” You sobbed and Bucky ran to the bed, kneeling down and taking your hands into his.

“Doll it’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here— I’m here. I’m not gonna leave you… I’m sorry.” He rushed out, shushing your cries, watching you slow your breathing at his words. “There we go, just keep breathing with me. I’m here, you’re okay.”

He kept repeating himself, making sure you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

Steve knew you were in good hands and slowly snuck out of the room— knowing you two needed to talk.

Bucky tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers trail down your cheek to your jaw. You couldn’t help the way your face leaned into his touch, it felt like it had been forever since the last one.

Your breathing had slowed down, and now you just stared up at him— eyes glossy with more tears. You felt so many emotions. You felt relived, but also angry and hurt. Above all— you needed to know what you did to upset him. The guilt still ate away at your heart, and even just the memory of the argument had your chest aching.

“What did I do?” You whispered, making his eyes shoot up to yours, concern painting his face.

“You didn’t do anything.” He told you, and you furrowed your brows.

You were still anxious— he hadn’t answered your question. Even more so— if you didn’t do anything then why did he ignore you?

“Then why?”

“Why what (Y/n)?” He dared to ask, and you scoffed— ripping your hands out of his.

The anger was approaching.

“Why did you shut me out?” You wondered, and he only let his eyes cast down to the bed— making you angrier. “You ignored me for two weeks! Two fucking weeks you just acted as if I didn’t exist! Do you know how much that fucking hurts?”

You were breathing heavy again, but this time it wasn’t from panic— it was the full force of all your anger bursting out.

He lifted his eyes to you, and you saw how broken he looked. How your state had affected him.

“I could never do that to you Buck— I would never do that to you! You’re my everything! I don’t trust anyone as much as I trust you!” You raised your voice, while he stayed silent. “If I didn’t do anything then why would you— why—”

You broke out into a sob, covering your face with your hands. You felt good getting all the built up anger out— but now you felt extremely guilty. The pitiful face of Bucky staring at you, causing your heart to hurt all over again. It didn’t matter what happened, you always ended up hurting others.

“(Y/n) I’m so sorry I— god I fucked up. I didn’t ever mean to hurt you, please know that. You’re my other half, and no one has ever been there for me like you have.” He spoke through a tight throat, swelling with emotion.

You uncovered your face and just stared at him a little longer, still incredibly hurt from his actions— but you knew you couldn’t stay mad at him. You so badly wanted to forgive and forget— and just wrap him in your arms like you both needed.

“It’s hard to explain what’s wrong with me to someone when I don’t even understand what’s wrong with me— I just know I’m fucked up. I’m broken beyond repair.” His voice broke, his own eyes welling with tears.

You didn’t have it in you to keep up an angry facade, and so you reached out and took his hand in yours. His face almost immediately lit up, his breathing slowing at your touch.

“Try me.” You whispered, watching Bucky take a deep breath before he spoke again.

“The night of our fight…” He started, and you swallowed in having to remember that night. “I had never seen you look at me like that.”

You stayed silent, afraid to open your mouth and have a sob escape. You could feel it bubbling up— the memory playing back through your mind.

“You looked at me like you were scared. You looked at me like I was a monster.” He confessed and it all made sense to you now.

It wasn’t about what you said, it was your reaction that disturbed him to no ends. Even if you couldn’t control your reaction in the moment— you still felt guilty for causing him pain of remembering the hydra days.

“Oh Buck…” You whimpered, trying to pull him close— but he pulled away before he could reach your embrace.

“No— you don’t get to be nice to me after what I did. I promised I would never hurt you and I did— you’re in here because of me! I don’t deserve your forgiveness!” He raised his voice, and you weren’t scared of him— just concerned.

“I wasn’t scared of you Bucky, you just caught me off guard. Things were heated— I’m not afraid of you and I most definitely don’t think you’re a monster.” You tried to convince him.

“I really hope you’re not lying because if you were afraid of me… god I don’t know what I’d do. If you never wanted to see me again— that’s fine. Whatever you want, but I can’t live knowing you’re afraid of me.” He whimpered out.

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

He nodded his head, knowing damn well you’d never lie. That was one thing he loved about you— you were so honest. Keeping it real with him, even if he didn’t wanna hear it. He could count on you for the truth.

“I still don’t deserve your forgiveness.” He argued.

“Well too bad, I’m forgiving you anyway.” You finally told him and he felt his chest expand.

Like he could finally breath.

“Why?” He wondered.

You knew it was the line you two had been dancing on forever— but you knew if there was ever a time to say it. It was now.

“Because I love you.” You admitted quietly.

His eyes widened just slightly, and his breath stuttered. He had always had a feeling what you two had was more than friends, he just never spoke up about it. Of course he loves you too— god he loves you so much. That’s why the thought of you being scared of him was enough to pull him away. He couldn’t bear being around you if you were frightened by him. He couldn’t live with himself. More importantly he now discovered, he really couldn’t live without you.

“I love you so much.” He confessed back as your tears leaked down your cheeks.

You pulled his arm, and he let you pull him to the bed— close enough where you could cup both his cheeks.

“Don’t ever do that to me again, please. I need you Bucky— life is not livable without you.” You cried, kissing his forehead to which he leaned into your lips.

“Never again— I promise.”

This time, he wouldn’t break it.

to be added to a taglist

TAGLIST: @engie115 @kmc1989 @ghostofwinter @silverfire13 @goldylions @potatothots @billy-reads @hanihoney88 @skittle479 @hereticdance @mentalidrainedfangirl @natashassandwich @marvelogic @soul-system @alinasmcu @almosttoopizza @lilbabygirll @sebastiansstanswhore @yujyujj @jasminocano

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #the winter soldier #marvel cinematic universe #reader insert #buckybarnes #marvel imagines #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes angst #protective bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #hurt/comfort fic #james buchanan barnes #beefy bucky barnes #theleggymeggy fics #fluffy #heavy angst #I write so much sadness I swear im okay #thank you for requesting!

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Live a Little, Give a Little ... More [Part 2]

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Live a Little Give a Little part 1

Summary: you've got one last stunt in you before you retire to have your baby--will your mystery Baby Daddy make a final appearance?

Warnings: Breeding kink, pregnancy, exhibition, groping, public sex, public teasing, dub con, manhandling, rape-esc situation that may be triggering, unprotected sex, creampie.

18+ ONLY

- - - -

You keep waving to your camera even after it clicks off and stops recording. Leaning back in your streaming chair, you close your eyes. 

Well, you did exactly what you set out to do: gained a shit ton of views and earned a mega bonus from your subscribers, rating shooting up thanks to that little stunt you pulled a few months ago.

You peer down, drumming your fingers along the hefty bump that had grown in your belly since then. “Hope you’re a bit more responsible than me, kiddo,” you mumble, smiling softly as you stroke over with gentle fingers.

Getting pregnant was not exactly how you imagined achieving that feat.

In all honesty, the plan was never to fuck a stranger on a crowded train. You were on the pill, but STD and STIs were a thing, so the furthest you had genuinely planned with a few hand jobs and being groped by perverts. 

But the second you felt that man on you, felt his cock pulse in your legs, something else over took you. Your whole bodies shivers with excitement every time recalling that day. Trying to etch every single detail into your memory. His callused hands, the firm, broad chest and shoulders that easily could overpower you, his warm thick fingers dancing along your skin, the trace of his breath along the shell of your ear, each beautiful little grunt and groan echoing in your ear like a broken record. 

His massive fucking hung horse cock.

You’ve been fucked by big-dicked guys before. But to know how to use it so fucking well that you don’t need to be battered to a pulp just to feel it, is something that no man can compare to your handsome baby Daddy.

Slickness pools in your panties. At some point, your belly is going to be big enough that you won’t be able to touch yourself. But for now, as your hand dips into your underwear and gathers your arousal, you think about him. 

If he was here now, would he make you cum on his fingers before you could have his cock buried to the hilt in you? Tell you that you’re a naughty girl, so fertile and sweet for the taking? A cum hungry dumb slut who doesn’t know how to function without his seed filling her up at every conceivable moment. Make you watch yourself in the mirror cum like a whore from his touch as he promises to breed and brand you over and over again for the world to see. You bite your lips, feeling him hot on your skin, balls twitching with each pulse of his seed dumping safely into your waiting womb to take him.

The thoughts of the faceless, nameless man who impregnated you on a crowded train during rush hour brings you to orgasm much quicker than any toy or method you’ve tested. Your jaw drops in a silent scream, a slight grin tugging on your lips as you rub your pussy through her little quakes, desperate to feel complete again.

You come down from your high, sticky fingers tracing along your belly as you drift into your current situation, ironically brought on by your insatiable horny lust.

No, you didn’t intend to have sex with a stranger that day. And when you weighed the odds in the nano-second before he impaled you… I mean, even if you got an infection, so what, just this once? What OnlyFans streamer didn’t have a disease or two? (No, please don’t take that advice)

You got tested immediately afterwards, and thankfully everything else came back negative from your fun encounter.

It only took a few more weeks after that of peculiar symptoms to get tested for something else that, to you genuine surprise, was positive. 

The man must have super sperm to have blown past your supposedly unstoppable birth control, which hadn’t even failed you when you did that 5 creampie amateur gang bang porno last summer.  Maybe you were only an hour late in taking your dosage on time that one day, too drunk and more concerned about fingering him cum back into you, but still…

You went into shock for a solid week, not sure what to do. Sometimes even now you feel a little jolt in your tummy, and see your body changing, and it just keeps dawning on you that you’re actually about to have a whole ass child.

And you don’t know the father.

It’s both thrilling and horrifying shook up in a bottle of hormones and currently sitting on the edge of a cliff. You should scold yourself for how stupid you were, if only you actually regretted it.  Even if you’re about to be a single mother who cant explain a thing to your soon to be child about their daddy, you knew you were gonna love you baby. No doubts.

Besides, when you were more financially stable, you DID plan to have kids at some point. So what if it’s a little sooner than expected? Life is full of unexpected surprises! 

You decided after the baby is born, no more streaming. You were gonna get a more stable, (more cloth required) job and raise your precious kiddo on your own.

But a few teasing streams until then, just to milk those breeding, misogynistic, baby bump hungry men out there willing to throw money at you if you rubbed milk over your belly, would be worth those extra bucks before calling it quits altogether.

Still, it would be nice feel him just one more time…

-

Joel’s been watching your stream obsessively since that day you brazenly showed your pregnant belly to the world. He’s got notifications going off on his phone every time you upload something. 

Even with his cock in his hand, most of the time you just talk to your followers, answer their questions about your pregnancy so far, and about that day.

He sees the way your eyes glint, the corner of your lips curving into an unashamed smile as you retell details about him.

Sure, all the lonely fucks in the chat spam your inbox “that’s so hot”, “god I wish that were me,” “can I use your holes and breed you next? My bus departs in 30 mins ;)”

Honestly, who’s to say you aren’t pulling a total bluff? You’re a porn streamer; it’s your job to feed into men like his fantasies. Maybe you had fucked a dozen guys on the train that day, got pregnant from one of them, and only uploaded Joel’s session because it was the hottest? Maybe you were already pregnant, and you’re just spinning a scandalous story for your followers to hold on to? And who’s to say you don’t already have a cuck boyfriend or husband, who could have been filming or watching you two on the train that day from a different angle?

The thought of you belonging to another man, of the baby you “claim” to his being another’s makes his hand grip his cock tightly, teeth grinding down on one another while staring at your beautiful eyes and smile through the computer screen.

He drops a pool of spit on to his tip before sheathing it over with his hand, lubing his cock. You would usually end the stream with some tease:

“God, my breasts are just getting so sore,” you groan dramatically. You unbutton your blouse and reveal your naked cleavage. “Don’t even have any more bras because they’re getting so damn heavy!” You cup them and moan into the camera, relieving the ache while pinching your nipples. 

Joel licks his lips. He had gotten to know you (or the version of you on your stream) a lot more intimately thanks to discovering your blog. He spent hours studying every detail that he missed. Its one thing to have dumped his load into your exquisite pussy, but to be able to see your face, hear your unashamed moans, ogle your gorgeous breasts and body that he had been denied that day makes him yearn to have you one more time.

Your belly had grown just as quickly, drooping over your pelvis just a bit more than before. You’re not at full mast yet. He watches how you maneuver, maybe a little slower or more bulky than before. It fills him with pride, seeing how much you’re having to struggle with his child growing in you. At the very least, you can still reach to get a bulbous pink dildo in your cunt and flash the camera as you masturbate, crying out as you beg Daddy to breed you again.

Joel cups his balls with one hand while the other furiously works over his shaft. His stomach tenses, building towards his release with eyes transfixed on the way that little cunt still has enough room to fit that toy. He would know, you took him with very little prep. 

“That’s it baby, come on, Come for Daddy,” he groans.  Doesn’t care that he’s jerking off in a dark room by himself to a brightly lit screen of his baby momma that doesn’t even know him. Yet. 

You moan directly into the camera, mouth agape as you thrust the dildo in and out, hitting that sweet spot that has your eyes rolling. You spread your legs over the chair, and the skin strewn across your belly tightens as a gush of liquid squirts out of your pussy.

“Fuck Daddy, making my pussy squirt so fuckin good! M so full my cunt can’t hold all my naughty juices, too full with your cock and your cum and your baby!!”

Haggard groans rumble in his throat as his cock erupts into jets of white ribbons, shooting along the computer screen and covering your face as you smile and lick the dildo clean. He milks his sack of the last little spurts of cum before sighing and leaning back against the chair, dreaming about painting your womb white again with his next load. 

When you come down from your high, and the last of the generous tips come flowing in, you usually rub along your swollen tummy. Sometimes it’s subconscious, like you’re comforting your child, other times it’s for the show, twirling around and pushing it out to show everyone how big you’ve gotten. Your voice centers him back to reality.

“And before I forget, I have one final announcement: After our little baby is born, I will be retiring.” You smile softly, but there’s a sense of gratitude mixed with sadness. “I know! It’s been such a great journey, and I’ve never felt soooo good about something as amazing as this, and to share it all with you is more than I could have ever hoped. So as a final send off, I’m doing one last exhibition piece.”

Joel leans, ignoring the stain of his cum drying along his shirt and smudged into his laptop.

 “If you’re out there, Daddio, I want to meet you. Catch me in the same area, around the same time—and no I’m not going to tell you all exactly where on here!  If you’re there, you’ll know—and if not, I will be streaming the whole thing live this time so don’t miss out! Even if I can’t find my blessing baby daddy, I will certainly still be putting on a show for however many lucky bastards get to grope a pregnant, single slut like me!”

-

You stand along the train platform, anxiously glancing over your shoulder at the random passersby just trying to catch a commute. Some men have definitely eyed you in less than innocent ways already. It’s a cest pool of perverts today. 

You contemplate the biggest hiccup in your plan: You know the only chance you have to recognize him is from feeling his huge dick splitting you open again. Cinderella slipper style, if you will. You didn’t have a name, an address, any identifiable features—you wouldn’t even be able to recognize his face if it were right in front of you given that you never really saw more than a blurred partial reflection of it in the first place. That monster cock is the only thing that you’re betting your life on right now to find him.

But for the safety of your baby—you had 0 plans to fuck anybody today. And I mean it this time.

The wind from the train tunnels keeps riling up your frilly dress, the fabric now fitting a little more snug than it did before thanks to your baby on the way. There’s a sense of excitement mixed with disappointment steaming in your flip flops. No, you had no hope of actually finding him again. 

 But who’s to say you can’t still have a little fun, touch some dicks, get your tits squeezed and call it a successful career?

Rush hour got a bit crazy, and boy were the men just as in a hurry. You bit your lip and smiled at a man who brushed by you, his hand happily squeezing your little ass cheek through your dress. He seemed young, thin, definitely not your man, but his long fingers did feel nice, caressing your hips as he grinned to you as well. Swaying your chest in front of him, he peers over your cleavage. The two of you waited along the platform, the crowd shifting awkwardly around you waiting for the train. You twiddled your hair, angling your phone up so it could capture his hand gently caressing your lower belly. 

His eyes widen in surprise: your bump wasn’t entirely obvious under the skirt of the dress, still small enough to be concealed under baggy clothing but very obvious the moment you feel it or pull the fabric tight. You giggle as he eagerly stroked over your belly, and you can barely see the twinkle of a fantasy forming behind those eyes.

The train followed forward a little too soon, and the man got on without another glance at you. Probably his wedding ring might have had something to do with it, but no matter. You remained where you were.

When the cart rushed past again, the wind blowing your dress, you caught the eye of a group of two behind you. You winked at them, lifting your skirt scandalously to show off your bare ass and wiggle at them, before enticing them to follow you behind the stairwell. 

You propped your phone up quickly, conveniently cutting off from the neck up to disguise their faces before they too rounded the corner. One was a bit shorter, dark haired, maybe around 40s with a full beard. His hands were all wrong, not your guy, but you didn’t deter him as he stroked along your cheek and down your cleavage, pulling the fabric of the dress tight to see your swollen tits. 

The other man, tall and muscular under that tight shirt, blond and younger, pressed firmly along your back, the outline of his cock making you rub your ass along his crotch. You quickly reached behind you and stroked his stiff bulge while they pinched your nipple through your dress, held the weight of your pregnant belly and brushed their knuckles along your inner thigh. 

Their faces didn’t matter. Maybe they were your fans, maybe they were just some lucky pervs at the right place at the right time. Either of them could be your mystery man, while neither could be too. You try to brush off your disappointment with a flirty laugh, stroking both of them through their trousers as they breathed in your perfume and continued to touch your body. No, their cocks were all wrong. It didn’t feel this rigid or this plump, his tip was more bulbous than this, and the curvature is in the opposite direction.

You glanced at your camera, making sure you’re getting good angles of your pronounced body sandwiched between these two creeps. They didn’t say much, thankfully, and you didn’t care to talk. Your feed was blowing up, with them none the wiser at behind recorded.  It’s not until you peep again at the screen that you see a third man entering the frame behind you. 

The other guys shift uncomfortably at his intrusion, but you look up at lucky perv number three. You don’t bat an eye when he boldly put his hand between your thighs and slid up along your skin, thick digits grazing your wet folds. You hum contently. Oh, he’s here for the cake. You try not to go hazy, eying the cheeky bastard while being stimulated all over.

 His height was between the other two but that didn’t make him any less imposing. Broad around the shoulders with a bit of a soft tummy, but his denim shirt hugged those biceps so well. And he’s older too, much older due to the wrinkles under his brown eyes and the grays starting to take over in his curled hair and patchy beard—

Your brows furrow for a second, not enough time to process your thoughts before he’s shoving the other two men aside despite their protests and walking you back against the tiled wall, your bum resting on the metal bar there. His torso parts your legs perfectly, and you gasp, hands gripping his shoulders to keep your balance. He only grins, something very knowing behind that look, a secret you feel left out from, and you’re about to call it all off until he rolls that massive THANG between his legs against your uncovered core.

You moan out in surprise, your head falls forward on his chest. He growls something out to the other guys, who end up scurrying away with their palms pressed on their crotches like scared dogs. 

“L-Look, mister,” you say, and fuck you should be trying to fight this harder. Especially with the jangle of his belt coming undone between you. You don’t want some stranger fucking you—again—that defeats the whole purpose of the tease! You could still shout for help, there’s plenty of other people just around the corner if he tries anything funny. And your baby, your health, your safety— “I don’t —I’m not in the mood for anything—penetrative. But I could satisfy you in other ways,” you huff, dragging your lower lip between your teeth.

He smirks again. His breath is warm, so close to your face you could almost kiss him. He feels so strong yet so soft, holding you securely against him, his hand cradling your belly while his tented cock pressed along your clit. Your hearts racing, beating wildly that you don’t doubt he can’t feel it against his own. Maybe he’s considering it, something willing yet still satisfying. You feel drunk off him despite only sampling the scent of him, not the taste quite yet.

He holds your gaze with his curved nose honing yours. Its intimate.

Familiar.

You should protest at least a little when he flips you around and bends you over. He’s got one hand protectively over your belly, making sure you don’t fall into the wall. You glance up, and the sight of your body positioned perfectly centered at your camera. Fuck—he knew where the camera was? Was he a fan watching your stream before he came over? Your shocked expression fills the screen as his torso and hips press against your ass, yellow dress flipped over your hips for his private view.

Your mind is reeling, unaware of the thick slap of his length against your folds—that jolts your attention. You know that cock…

He thrusts in all at once.  No voice escapes your parted lips to convey the cross eyed, fantastic, unbelievable, one in a million stretch that you had been missing for months, now filling you up to the brim and suffocating every available micro meter inside of you, and making you whole again. The same stretch, the one that’s making you cum on his cock right now, flooding your senes as arousal electrifies every nerve in your body.

The man behind you only chuckles, still getting the perfect view of your gaping mouth and furled brows reflected on the phone scream. he hisses lowly between his teeth as you continue to clench around his cock with your sweet wet little cunt. It’s like scanning a membership, and your body finally recognizes the owner of the shop. You pant harshly into the bar, walls convulsing over his thick length buried deep to your occupied womb.

The man that had placated your mind, your pussy and womb for the last 6 months, the man who left the best gift you’d ever received, the man right here in the flesh, that you had almost considered a dream were it not for the growing swell of his child in your womb occupying your delirium…

He leans over you, just enough so that only his lips are visible at the top of the screen, his voice ghosting along your ear: “Hi babygirl. Missed you. Looks like you have a little surprise for Daddy.” You feel his bear palms caress your swollen tummy.

Your lips curl into a delirious smile, lashes fluttering in blissful patterns of love as your entire being welcomes this man into the home he’s already carved out of you.

Even your baby nestled small in your womb wiggles excitedly at the recognition of her Daddy.

Neither of you look away from another as he begins thrusting into you, rocking your body back and forth along his member like the toy you’re so good at being.

He was amazing—no, better than before if it’s possible. Impossibly hard, long, thick and throbbing, all shoved up your pussy with desperate ruts, impaling your soaking pussy over and over again. You had to remind yourself, still lost like a love sick puppy in his eyes, that you were still in public, being fucked raw, pregnant, behind the stairwell of a crowded train station during rush hour. Nosy chatter echoed through the tunnel as the two of you humped against one another, partially clothed minus your genitals connected in a haze of passionate fucking. The phone in front of you is only forgotten, and you can only imagine the comments and tips blowing up at the fact that you’d actually found him.

Despite the openness, the vulnerability of your position, it feels far more intimate, just the two of you fucking to your hearts content. You’ll wonder later about the wondering eyes from trains beginning to enter the station and seeing the two of you in the blurred windows , but right now, you’d be ready to take his second bastard child right this second. 

Your handsome hero reaches past you and turns the recording off, flipping the phone down. If he’s going to have you again, really have you, it would be his own little private show. No camera. No show. He abruptly pulls out before spinning you around and nestling himself between your thighs again, his cock aligning to your entrance before sliding right back in. Right where he belongs.

“Oooooh shiiiit. Shit Momma, you’re so good at taking it,” he rasps into your neck. He presses a wet kiss along your throat, each thrust pushing you back but he holds you close and sucks you right into his grasp again. Your open lips hover over one another as he sets his pace again, his tip now kissing your cervix with each kiss of your pregnant belly to his naval.

“It’s mine, isn’t it?” He growls with an edge of desperation. “Tell me it’s mine.” Beads of sweat begin to form along the creases of his forehead, but he didn’t once consider slowing his pace. With the pay your ass jiggles at each slap of skin.

“It’s yours,” you cry. There’s no doubt. your heart screams with joy just as the knot in your stomach snaps. he grips your mouth with his strong hand as your head rolls in ecstasy, wailing out into his flesh with unfiltered moans.

Harsh breaths are forced out of his nose, his lips switching between a snarl and a grin as he nears his end. 

“Inside,” you hum into his ear.

He wasn’t planning on putting it anywhere else. With one final heave, he lifts you off the rail briefly, your weight balncing under his arms and your tiptoes on the ground as he bursts inside of you, painting your walls with his hot cream.

You both breathe in the polluted air. Distant echoes of the rafters rattling in the darkened caves ahead while footsteps rustle down the metal stairs behind the two of you. The breeze of the caverned tunnels cools the sweat along both your bodies. He hasn’t let go, still glued to you, holding you close as if you’d slip away.

You sit upright in his lap, trying to catch your breath. You survey one another, pupils blown wide yet calming. The two of you just giggle as your pants slowly sync together. His rough yet gentle fingertips stroke your cheek before brushing away the strands of messy hair that had covered your beautiful face, and for the first time, he can really get a full look at you in person.

“I’m Joel,” he says sweetly. He brings your knuckles to his lips and presses a gentle and long kiss, never once breaking eye contact with you.

You shake your head and laugh, offering your name to him as well.

Although, at this point, with his cock still impaled deep inside, his baby growing in your womb— its safe to say the two of you are well past such a redundant formality.

-----

Permanent Taglist

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#pedro pascal smut #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #last of us fanfiction #last of us smut #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #the last of us smut #the last of us fic #last of us fic #LALGAL

[livelaughlovesubs]

I saw your posts about receiving any reqs rn so I saw this as an opportunity

I saw that you write for what in hell is bad so I would absolutely love it if you wrote a fic about hucow!mammon

Just imagine him as part demon, part cow, his tits always bursting with milk, fluffy ears to scratch, and a beautiful spotted tail to yank on and make him moan

Would he be a milk cow, only meant for crating the best milk from his plush tits, or would he be a breeding cow, meant to be plowed into all the time and filled up with babies🤭

Ayo, wait.. hold up, i’ve never thought about this, especially the second possibility and my god?? Also I hope this is satisfactory since I’m not sure if you wanted a fic or hc, or somehting else

Dom!reader x sub!cow!mammon - mentions of AMAB reader (once)

Warning: lactation, breeding kink, anal sex, cow-hybrid, heat, degradation & objectification (a little)

Just imagine it, mammon, as big as he already is, being a female cow. In other words milk or breeding cow. Cute ears paired with a fluffy tail hanging from his body, his already huge breasts now gaining a new function. Whenever you’d rest in his lap, you slip your hands beneath his clothes and grope his squishy, full pecs. If your fingers brush against his nipples, it’s to be expected that he leaks some of his milk.

He’d not let anyone use him like you do, because he’s your possession. Your own milk reservations. No one gets to have a taste except you allow it. Having you suck on his tits until his nipple feels like it will fall off, only for you to change to the other side. You really won’t stop until he is dry, will you? Mammon would try his best to eat food that makes his milk more delicious! He’d also try to produce more if that’s what you want. Secretly massaging his breasts to improve the quality and speed, all while his tail flairs around desperately <3

At some point you were curious about how similar he is to a real cow. Does he have heats? Mating session? Can he get…. You know?

Whenever you two would fuck, you’d make sure to keep your dick as deep inside him as possible, not pulling it out unless you really need to. Which led to long aftercare sessions, since you made him keep cockwarm you. This was such a sudden shift in demeanour, was there something that triggered it? And sure he was right.

After he found out the reason, he’d be so smitten with you. You wanted to get him pregnant? To pump him full of your children and make him tied to you forever? God, you were ready to have babies with him.. how he wishes that he can really get pregnant now. From then on, he’ll never question your decisions ever again, staying put and keeping you inside him was almost as fun as the real deal. Whenever you did pound and rut into him, he’d keep whining and moaning about wanting to be filled by you, about wanting to become your breeding animal. - he’d also love keeping your cum in him, using a butt plug to prevent it dripping out. Your little pet is trying his best to get pregnant huh?

Would love the matting press ;)

Then his heat hits him, and he just becomes so much more sensitive. His tits would produce more milk, but they’d be a little more watery than usually, because he just produces too much! To the point where you don’t even have to touch his chest for him to leak milk from his nipples. It’s also around this time he becomes more greedy with you, his master, and wants to full 24/7. Please stick something in, he needs it so bad~

#whb #what in hell is bad #sub character #sub!character #dom reader #dom!reader #sub mammon #mammon whb #sub what in hell is bad #sub whb #what in hell is bad mammon #mammon #whb mammon #mammon what in hell is bad

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Hey! Ps: love another Lie 🫶🏻 Your writing is so beautiful! I have some fiction ideas and I hope you'd like some 🥹

Imagine Charles in the middle of a race and there is a high speed crash. He's bruised and hurt and may have internal injuries but he wants to get back to the reader in the pitlane asap cause he knows the reader would lose it and as he suspects the reader is in the middle of a panic attack with everyone holding her back and on seeing him she is relieved and breaks down and he's like "you've been crying" and consoles and Hugs her in public. Ps: If you're up for it maybe it could lead to soft consoling nsfw smut?

A Little Longer

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Fem!reader Warnings: 18+ only, crash, panic attack, injuries, smut WC: 1.3k

F1 Masterlist

You only looked away for a second, but that was all it took to miss the crash.

One moment Charles was setting best sector timings, and on the way for the fastest lap, and the next his car was spinning off the track and slamming into the tecpro barrier.

A collective gasp had rippled through the garage and you had nearly broken your neck with how quick your head snapped back to the screens. For a moment you couldn’t even see him through the dust from the gravel pit he had caught the edge of. In that moment a hundred thoughts passed through your head. In that moment a thousand questions followed, growing darker and darker as everyone waited for the dust to clear.

All ability to function was erased as you remained frozen in place, eyes fixated on the screens, unblinking, waiting for any sign of movement.

You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think.

You hadn’t realised you were moving until Joris grabbed your arm and you found yourself under the harsh sunlight of the pit lane instead of the garage. “Let me go,” you begged with a broken voice. “I need to get to him.”

The edge of your sight was fuzzy, the images blurry as tunnel vision set in and Joris shook your shoulders. His lips were moving but no sound penetrated the noise in your head or the whoosh of your pulse that seemed to be thump in your ears.

“I need to get back to my girlfriend.”

“This is your health we are talking about, Mr Leclerc. You need to be thoroughly checked out at the medical centre.”

“Later,” Charles argued as he limped over to the motorcycle, his hand clutching his ribs. “You don’t know her, she will be worried.”

Every bump on the path sent a jolt of pain across Charles ribs and he bit back the groan that followed. He had to focus on his breathing as he ignored the crowd watching his return to the pits, he couldn’t spare a second to think about all the people he had disappointed with his crash. 

All he could think about was you.

He immediately knew he was right to worry when the motorbike puttered along the pit lane and he saw a ring of his crew trying to keep the media from seeing the scene behind them. Your cheeks were damp with your tears but your lips were cracked from the rapid breaths you were struggling to take. Joris was at your side, the relief in his eyes notable when he looked up and found Charles pushing his way through the crowd.

“Mon cœur, you’ve been crying,” Charles whispered as he pulled you into his arms, his lips brushing soft kisses over your damp cheeks.

“Charles?” 

He hated how broken your voice was, broken because you had been screaming for him until your throat was raw. He held you tighter despite the protest his body made but he couldn’t stop the sharp intake he took when life returned to you and you threw your arms around his waist. 

“You’re hurt!” you gasped as you leapt back and kept him at an arms width so you could inspect him. “You should be with the medics. What if you’re bleeding internally? I can’t live without you, Char.”

He chuckled softly and cupped your face so he could silence your ramblings with a kiss. “I’ll see them soon, I just need to hold you first. Please?”

You couldn’t deny him, not when his green eyes looked so blue. Lacing your fingers with his you gave him a small nod and finally noticed where you had ended up. You couldn’t remember leaving the garage and Charles draped his arm over your shoulder, turning you back to the shelter of the garage when he saw your eyes widen in realisation.

“I didn’t mean to cause a scene,” you mumbled as he closed the door to his driver room.

“I know, mon cœur,” he replied softly as his hands ran up and down your back soothingly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Your trembling fingers reached for his face, tracing the creaselines his balaclava had left over his cheeks and when his eyes fluttered shut your thumb brushed away the dust that had clung to his lashes. 

“I couldn’t see you.” His eyes opened at the sound of your voice. “It was the worst feeling in the world. I couldn’t see if you were okay or if…”

Charles chased away the lingering thought as he pulled you into his arms and kissed you. “I’m here, I’m here,” he reminded you as he stepped backwards, taking you with him to the couch where he sank into the soft cushions with a wince before tugging you onto his lap.

You tried to pull away as your legs settled either side of his thighs but his arms locked around your waist. “You’re hurt, baby. You need to let the medics check you.”

“Soon.” His hands followed the curve of your body until he reached the hem of your dress and they slowly began to climb once more. His palms were still warm from his gloves and the touch sent heat waves rippling across your skin as he inched higher up your thighs. “Please, let me hold you a little longer.”

It was unfair of him. Truly. He knew exactly how his touch affected you and when his thumbs teased the line of lace between your thighs you couldn’t think clearly enough to deny him. Your response was dragging the zip of his race suit down and his hands left your body only long enough to pull his sleeves down and shove the material past his waist. 

Time began to work strangely as the urgency to feel each other crashed into the need to savour the moment. Your panties were pushed aside in the rush as Charles’s strong hands guided your body down to meet his and then time slowed as you stared into the gold and green eyes of the man you loved more than anything.

Whatever he saw in your eyes made him swallow deeply and bury his face in the crook of your neck, kissing his way back to your lips where he reminded you once more, “I’m here, amour.”

You returned his kiss, combing your fingers through his hair as it deepened and your hips began to move slowly. There was an awareness of his injuries that kept you from moving any faster and after a minute Charles’ impatient hands gripped your waist and set the pace for you until you forgot about the crash completely.

“I love you, Charles,” you moaned as your core clenched around him and he stole the soft sounds with his lips as he joined you in ecstasy.

“I love you too.” He sighed contentedly as he pulled you as close as possible against him, your entire front pressed to his, but the sigh turned to a groan of pain.

“Medics, now,” you ordered as you climbed off his lap and offered your hands to pull him to his feet. “No more procrastinating.”

“What we did wasn’t procrastinating, amour,” he managed to tease as he held his rib cage with one hand while he pulled his race suit back up with the other.

You groaned and ran a hand over your face. “You’re not allowed to joke until the doctors have cleared you, Charles.”

“You drive a hard bargain.” Lacing your fingers in his, he lifted your hand to his lips and kissed them before reaching for the door. “Let’s go and ease your mind, my sweet.”

#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 smut #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #charles leclerc smut

[kami-kun1003]

Silver’s narcolepsy is so… interesting to me

everyone always talks about it like it’s a silly joke. like “ha ha sleepy boy!!!” which is. fine. but from what we see in the game, it’s undoubtedly a serious physical disability. it literally causes him to fall asleep randomly throughout the day and there’s no way he can fight it. that’s genuinely scary and a cause for concern. what if he fell asleep next to a lake and drowned or something??

i can’t help but think about how much it must affect him mentally. imagine you’re the only human in a fae family, and your whole life you believed that you would be the first to die, and you need to make the most out of the short time you have to repay your loved ones for raising you.

and the universe decides to give you a sleep disorder that completely hindrances your ability to do so. you doze off CONSTANTLY, wasting hours upon hours of precious time that you could’ve used for something more useful.

you can’t control it. once you feel that drowsiness, it’s over. nothing helps; you just can’t stay awake regardless of what you try. no one knows what’s wrong with you so you just assume that it’s your own fault for being so lazy. your father’s done everything he can, bless his kind heart, but even he can’t find a solution.

nobody understands what you’re going through, they all say it’s normal to feel bored or tired from schoolwork every now and then. which isn’t how you feel at all, but you just don’t have the words to describe it.

it gets to the point where you’re failing your classes because your body simply refuses to function the way it’s supposed to. your teachers blame you and they’re right, it’s your fault it’s all your fault isn’t it?

your peers make fun of or look down on you for being unusual. for always falling asleep. for not expressing emotion (doesn’t anyone else find it hard?). you feel ashamed. you try to fix it but you can’t. nothing can ever be fixed.

it’s frustrating to be unable to control your own body. you’ve grown used to it, and so has everybody else, although that doesn’t make it any less of a problem. but at this point it feels like there’s no other choice but to just live with it.

and in the end, you feel guilty. your father has given you everything, and yet you can’t give back. does that not make you a failure? a disappointment of a son? here you are, living, breathing, thinking, and you can’t even do anything to thank the person who gave you the luxury of existence.

wouldn’t you hate sleep? wouldn’t you utterly despise that feeling of drowsiness that overtakes your mind when you so much as stay still for a single minute? would you not cherish the moments in which lethargy did not plague you?

oh, how you wish there was a cure.

(tagging: @fruixtii )

#these are just my personal thoughts so pls be nice if u disagree— #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst silver #lilia vanrouge #diasomnia #malleus draconia #sebek zigvolt #twst headcanons #twst analysis #twst angst #narcolepsy

[evilminji]

Ya'll know our BELOVED? Little Baby Man?

The noodliest ghosty boy?

What if he WAS Baby? It wouldn't be the first time Danny's enemies plotting gave him offspring. Only this time it's not a clone! It's a proper GHOST baby. Like Lunch Box.

Who's the other parent I hear you ask?

Pretty human-centric view point there buddy, to assume Ghosts NEED two participants to make an offspring. OR are limited to two! Just cause Lunch Lady And Boxie are a couple doesn't mean that's the standard!

We lack data here! ASSUME NOTHING. *sciences harder in your direction*

*awkward cough*

*shuffles notes*

ANYWAY! The child! All it would really take is one(1) VERY poorly timed ambush attack. Imagine if you will, a cell. How does it multiply? While not even close, the simplistic images ARE pretty good as an explanation!

But isn't that just an ecto-clone? You say?

Close!

But THOSE? Are hollow bags of GOO!

No CORE! *slaps the chalkboard behind me*

However! If you wanted, say, a precious bundle off joy? Well, nothing can come from perfect void! You must contribute the building blocks of LIFE! And what are those, my students, in ghost biology??!

Two vital pieces! The Ectoplasm aaaaaaand? That's RIGHT!

The CORE!

A critical and ever vital part of ghost biological function.

Which, like every OTHER part of the body, is malleable. One could, say, make it smaller. Create part of a proto core. OR, should one be ALONE in this process, a FULL protocol.

Upon which, ectoplasm latches, builds, develops and grows. Becomes its own soul.

Now! Do Not mistake me! There is a WILDLY vast difference between the formation of a core and a shattered core. Between willing life and untimely second death. It is not, and never WILL be, easy to create the soul of a child. Tampering with your core is PAINFUL, dangerous, and leaves you WILDLY vulnerable.

There is a REASON Neverborn are so precious.

Buuuuut..... *pulls out a book labeled "Curses Though The Ages"* we must ALSO consider the famed Fenton Luck(tm).

Consider! Where would be the "safest" place to practice making clones of yourself? A place that's wide open. No one wearing white likely to take pot shots at you while your attention is divided in multiple places at once. No parents blowing up the basement at a delicate moment and leaving you trying to hide that extra arm for a week...

Maybe you forget... oh yeah... OTHER GHOSTS.

So there Danny floats. In the Zone. DISTRACTED. His core HUGE from all that recently Royal business as it tries to digest it. Feeling bloated. Trying to work off some energy, as it were. Then who should come along? Why, the universes BEST HUNTER of course! To say *gun powering up noise* :) HI :)

Like buddies DO.

Danny doesn't see him.

Danny is mid-split.

At his limit, honestly. Already made as many copies as he usually can. Is trying for ooooone moooooore..... when...

PAIN. Something cracks.

He loses concentration. Tries to curl in on himself.

Both 1.5 of him tries. He loses hold of the "clone's" Ecto. Somethings free floating leaving his chest along with it. Behind him, Skulker is freaking out. That was MEANT to be on opening volley. A gentle little "hey, come fight me". That crack sounded SERIOUS.

Danny can't breathe. It's like the portal all over again. He curls tighter and tighter. Feels the crown, which was not THERE until this moment, press down tight and gripping onto his head. Thrumming. And then... something feels like a muscle releasing.

His core is... smaller? He'd been watching its progress, it couldn't have digest so fast... how did it lose so much... mass...

Danny feels all the blood drain from his face.

He nearly died.

Again.

His... his soul... WHERE IS HIS SOUL?? That's a piece of him! A part of his SOU-!

He spins around... only to meet the eyes off a blearly blinking, noodlish, cartoon like gremlin with his color scheme. Who's floating along like they're in zero-g. Just... drifting in a slow circle.

They yawn at him with a mouth full of teeny tiny baby fangs. Then chirp.

That's his Son. He doesn't know how, he doesn't know WHY, but he somehow instinctively... just... KNOWS?

They blep.

Danny looks a Skulker. His eyes hold MURDER.

"You're paying child support."

"......yes sir."

@hdgnj @stealingyourbones

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

(H:SR/Genshin Impact) March 7th, Stelle, Himeko, Lisa, Eula, Navia, Furina, and Shenhe in a hot tub with their S/O

No one requested this, I just recently took used a jacuzzi and that was pretty swell. This is non-spicy, just fluff with mentions of no clothing because, ya know, you don't take a bath with clothes on.

March would love the idea of getting to share a hot tub with her S/O!

After all the running and chaos of being with the Astral Express, it was nice to just unwind with her loved ones.

She moves to sit right next to S/O, and enjoys the warmth of the water and their proximity.

Hot tubs were meant to be enjoyed together, not sitting across from each other!

March resists the urge to splash water onto them like they were in a bath, and instead decides to take it slow for once.

===

March 7th exhaled dramatically as she sank into the waters and closed her eyes.

(March 7th) "Finally, just some you and me time."

(S/O) "March, we've been together all day-"

(March 7th) "Shush, I meant just us! We've been shopping all day!"-

-March corrected S/O, leading them to roll their eyes playfully.

The sound of the jets inside the tub blasting at full power was the only sound for a little while, besides their relaxed breathing.

March opened one eye and peeked at S/O, who she noticed was trying not to glance too much at her.

(March 7th) "Aw, feeling shy?"

(S/O) "I just want to be respectful."

(March 7th) "Psh, what are you, some kinda monk? We're already in a tub, no need to be that shy."

March teased, kissing their cheek before relaxing again.

(March 7th) "Now, what did you buy? You never told me what was in that bag-"

March and her S/O make small talk as the aches in their muscles slowly faded away.

Stelle doesn't recall if she ever used a hot tub before, but sharing it with someone she loved would not be a bad first time.

She sits somewhat stiffly onto the seat next to S/O and doesn't move as she feels the water flow against her skin.

It's relaxing, doubly so with her S/O nearby, but she doesn't know what to do.

Beats using her shower alone, that's for sure though.

===

(S/O) "Not used to sitting?"

S/O joked, nudging her shoulder a little. Stelle chuckles lightly and nudges them back.

(Stelle) "I'm used to something happening if I try sitting down for an extended period of time. Usually an explosion."

S/O wrapped their arms around Stelle and laughed at her response.

(S/O) "A nice change of pace then?"

(Stelle) "Hm, I guess so."

Stelle replied again with a small smirk growing, relaxing into their embrace.

(Stelle) "I'm counting down until someone interrupts us while we're in here. Want to make a bet?"

(S/O) "Fifty credits for the next ten minutes."

(Stelle) "My bet's the next five."

The two shared playful banter as they enjoyed the time together until the Astral Express reached its next destination.

Himeko gladly takes the chance to share the hot tub with her S/O.

She gives them a teasing wink before stepping in, waiting for them.

Other than the initial tease, she doesn't torment her S/O as much as they were expecting, deciding that this moment shouldn't be wasted.

Part of her wishes that it could have scents or bubbles, but knows that it'd ruin the tub. Oh well, there's always the actual bathtub!

===

(Himeko) "You know, I'm quite glad we were able to get this in here."

Himeko lets her body lean onto S/O, closing her eyes as she felt them adjust their position so they could both be comfortable.

(S/O) "I'm surprised Caelus, March, and Dan Heng could even fit it through the doors."

S/O chuckled, recalling when they somehow found a functioning one and brought it into the train cars.

It took the entire crew to find a place for it to stay in while figuring out how to get running water into it.

(Himeko) "Well, if it lets us experience this, I'm willing to not ask a few questions."

(S/O) "Fair enou-Pwuah! Y-Your hair is in my mouth!"

Himeko lets out a beautiful giggle as she moves out the way, enjoying the sight of S/O without her imagination having to do the work.

(Himeko) "We should do this more often.~"

Lisa absolutely melts the moment she relaxes into the tub.

The sigh she lets out is enough to distract S/O momentarily before they joined her.

Lisa's gaze softens as she brushes one hand across their face, the water dropping from her arm.

===

(Lisa) "Thank you for inviting me to this, S/O. I needed this."

S/O raised an eyebrow.

(S/O) "Darling, all you did was read a book today-"

Lisa gasped, faking her surprise with a barely held back smile as she put a hand onto her chest.

(Lisa) "I'm hurt, I did some very hard work, I'll have you know!"

(S/O) "Mhm, I bet you did."

Lisa turned her attention back to the important task at hand: relaxing.

(Lisa) "I could get addicted to this hot tub, the way the waters soothe my feet feels so good."

(S/O) "How about we save this for every once in a while, that way it feels like a reward?"

(Lisa) "Hm, good idea.~"

Lisa notices immediately how S/O is trying their best to not stare too long at her, something she appreciates and finds cute.

Well, this wasn't the nice cold waters of the Dragonspine lake, but it could do.

The experience was made better with her S/O's presence, though that wasn't something she would share out loud.

At least not with S/O teasing her at this very moment.

===

Eula shifted in the tub, trying to fully relax but the warmth of the water made it difficult to do so.

(S/O) "Hah, now you have experienced but a taste of my vengeance on you!"

(Eula) "Hmph, it will take more than lukewarm water to dishearten me, S/O."

Eula shifted over to her S/O, the heat rising to her cheeks nearly matching the water.

Her hand enveloped theirs as she did her best to get used to the feeling.

(Eula) "Next time, the waters I will put you in shall be even colder."

(S/O) "Assuming you don't melt first."

Eula made a grunt, trying her best to not let the blush on her cheeks be too obvious.

Whether the water be cold or hot, being this intimate to S/O always made her heart race.

Navia was the one who brought S/O to the hot tub, insisting they get to use it first!

Although she blushes lightly from wearing nothing, it doesn't take her long to eagerly jump into the hot tub with them!

She has one arm resting around their shoulder as she hums in content.

===

(Navia) "Aaaah, this feels fantastic!"

Navia felt S/O lean into her, which made her heartbeat quicken.

(S/O) "How much did this cost? This doesn't look cheap-"

(Navia) "It isn't but we can't spare any expense when it comes to this kind of thing!"

(S/O) "Well, no complaints from me. And thank you, Navia."

(Navia) "Don't mention it...Seriously, don't. No one else but you and me can use this."

(S/O) "My lips are sealed."

Navia kissed them on the lips before giving them a toothy smile.

(Navia) "Now it is!"

Furina at first rejected the notion of going into the hot tub with her S/O, because she thought they were telling her to take a bath.

The Hydro Archon doesn't need to clean herself with water, she IS water!

===

(Furina) "Are you trying to insinuate something, S/O?"

(S/O) "Furina, a hot tub is just a way to relax your muscles. It's not meant for actually cleaning-"

(Furina) "Hmph, then why not just lead with that? Let's get straight in!"

Furina dramatically tosses her clothes and hat away as S/O hurriedly tries to join her after it almost lands on them.

Once they're both sitting in the waters, her lips are making random sounds as her hands are idly creating bubbles that emerged from the water.

Hearing S/O stifle a laugh, she turned to them.

(Furina) "What, pray tell, is so amusing?"

(S/O) "N-Nothing. It's...just that you're cute."

Furina is stunned for a brief moment before her smirk comes back.

(Furina) "Well. I know I am quite dazzling, doubly so when I am surrounded by water~."

She then takes another peek at S/O, who is still staring quite affectionately at her, leading Furina to begin pouting.

(Furina) "S-Stop staring at me like that!"

Shenhe was sitting nearly as still as a rock inside the hot tub with her S/O.

Was she...doing this right?

How would the heat of the water help her clean?

===

(Shenhe) "Is there no soap that we can use?"

(S/O) "Ah, no this isn't something to clean yourself in, Shenhe. It's something to relax. Basically you can meditate in here, in a way!"

(Shenhe) "I see. The waters do feel nice."

(S/O) "I'm glad!"

Shenhe turns to S/O without too much change in her expression.

(Shenhe) "However, this is not good for meditating. The noise the water is making is quite loud, and the constant brushing of it on my skin is...strange.''

(S/O) "Hah, then I can move a little so you're not sitting in front of a jet."

She nodded in thanks and sat closer to S/O, almost squishing herself against them.

(Shenhe) "And...there is the problem that you are here. My mind cannot seem to focus."

S/O smiled at that.

(S/O) "Want me to leave?"

She shook her head, her arm grabbing theirs gently.

(Shenhe) "That is not what I meant. I mean that you have no clothes on, and it is very distracting."

(S/O) "...Oh. R-Right."

(Shenhe) "...I do not dislike this at all."

#honkai star rail x reader #genshin impact x reader #march 7th x reader #stelle x reader #himeko honkai star rail x reader #lisa minci x reader #eula x reader #navia x reader #furina x reader #shenhe x reader #march 7th honkai star rail #stelle honkai star rail #himeko hsr #lisa minci #eula lawrence #navia genshin impact #dehya genshin #shenhe genshin impact #furina genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcanons #honkai star rail headcanons #honkai star rail imagines

[galacticgraffiti]

⋆☾⋆ Big Love Ahead (2) ⋆☽⋆

!!! NSFW ⋆ 18+ ⋆ Minors DNI !!!

Summary: After you start to get better, feelings start to grow - and you find out Halsin's secret. Or: Halsin is the softest man and I want to live the cottagecore fantasy with him so bad.

Rating: Mature Wordcount: 6k Descriptors: The first two chapters are fairly genderneutral. Reader's physique is not really described aside from being quite a bit shorter and smaller than Halsin. CW: Fluff, softness, building up some feelings before we get to fucking, pet names, oblivious pining, Halsin in bear form, thirsting for druids is hot, talks about feelings, resolving the tension.

✦⋆ « Chapter (1) ⋆✦⋆ Main Masterlist ⋆✦⋆ If you prefer AO3 ⋆✦

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Chapter 2: The Bear

The morning brings… surprises.

You wake up, your legs sore and your functional arm sorer, but you feel clean, and your hair still smells of Halsin.

You stretch, clenching your teeth at the pain that flares up as your muscles contract and your joints crack into place. New bandages cover your deeper wounds, and oddly enough, the sight of them makes you smile. Halsin must have dressed the wounds after you had already fallen asleep.

The thought of leaving the bed seems terrible, except that the last thing you remember is Halsin telling you he sleeps right outside. It may just be worth it to leave the comforts of your sheets to find him. You can imagine him now, his large form curled up by a fire, watching the stars in the night sky move with his impossible patience as he falls asleep, and seeing the sun rise in his golden eyes when he wakes.

You wrap yourself in your sheet and try not to collapse as you limp towards the entrance. It is only a few steps, but the way seems entirely too long, even if you can lean against the cave wall to prop yourself up. The outside is already bright with the light of dawn, and you squint into the sun, taking in the newly familiar sight of the grove and meadow, feeling the grass underneath your bare feet for the first time.

At first glance, you don’t see Halsin anywhere. There is no campfire like you thought there might be, no tent or even a bedroll. You look around, a little lost for what to do. This has never happened before - you have not been able to walk by yourself for so long, and you have never left the cave before yesterday’s bath. You had never needed to before - Halsin was always there whenever you required anything, and most of your time has been spent sleeping, reading and recovering.

You look around, taking in the fresh morning air and the beauty of nature before you, when a noise catches your attention. It comes from the shadows beside the cave, right behind a big boulder covered in moss. It sounds… almost like a snore. Except no person could ever produce such a noise, not even one of Halsin’s size. It’s much too loud, much too… animalistic. But Halsin would never let you sleep anywhere where you were at risk of being attacked, right? Surely not. He wouldn’t leave you alone if he was not sure that you were safe.

Carefully, though your entire body is screaming DANGER, you make your way around the boulder. And you are met by the sight of…

A really large fucking bear.

A bear. Next to your cave. Sleeping, curled in on itself, its giant head resting on huge paws with sharp claws. You can see its chest expand with deep breaths, and if it weren’t right there in front of you, you would find it fascinating. The bear shifts, huffing as it moves, it’s nose scrunching up.

You nearly scream.

But its eyes are closed, and you press your hand to your mouth just in time that all you utter is a muffled “hmph”.

You stare and stare. Your eye twitches. Your legs shake, as if the new effort of keeping yourself upright was not enough already.

You press your lips together and try to breathe as quietly as you can. And then, you move. Slowly, ever so slowly, you try to make your way back towards the cave, away from the animal that sleeps right next to your resting place. Then, a thought comes crashing in: Halsin. Where is he? Did that bear do something to him? What happened to-

In your panic, your silly feet miss a step. It’s like you are falling in slow motion, the world blurring around you. You hit the ground with a dull crack and a cry of pain escapes from your throat. The bear grunts, its head raising.

Your spine aches and all the air that has been pressed from your lungs when you hit the ground floods back in, but you don’t scream. Instead, you close your eyes and… give up. What else is there to do?

You can hear the bear shift, and you can almost feel its breath on your face, sharp fangs glittering behind your eyelids as you wait for the worst; wait to be mauled to death, to be ripped open and devoured in a bloody mess of bones and cartilage.

The worst does not come.

When you are brave enough to open your eyes again, the bear is staring right at you. With Halsin’s golden irises glowing in its face.

*****

You get over it.

Maybe that’s the wrong way to put it.

You… find out. And you accept it. As soon as your mouth has stopped screaming in terror, as soon as paw turns into hand and fur into skin, you accept what has happened.

Halsin’s explanations make sense, and his voice calms you. You feel so stupid- you should have connected the dots ealier. But your mind is still reeling, and your heartbeat still much too fast. You might have collapsed if you were not already on the ground, but… you are oddly fine with it.

It’s just him. For a moment, the relief that nothing bad has happened to him cuts through the surprise, and that is enough to ground you. You pull yourself together and snap your mouth shut. You stare and stare, not moving, but not moving away either, as Halsin carefully approaches you, both hands raised in the air.

He sits down next to you with a sigh, far away so he won’t touch you. You watch him, watch his profile. And all you can think is: you should have known. A wood elf with his build? Of course he is a fucking bear. Of course this happens. You should have expected it.

Once the panic starts to fade, you are just ashamed at your reaction, which is not helped by Halsin apologising way more than he should.

“There’s nothing wrong,” you hear your voice say, eventually, though your mind is still somewhere else entirely, but he keeps on saying sorry for something nobody should ever have to apologise for. “You are just… a bear. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“I should have told you.” He sounds so broken that you shatter at the sound of his voice. “I should have-”

“You should have nothing,” you interrupt him. “This changes nothing. I’m fine, I promise. I was just… surprised. I’m sorry I reacted so poorly, I should have made the connection sooner, but I swear I’m alright.”

“You were screaming for about ten minutes there.” His voice is so dry and matter of fact that you nearly burst into laughter.

“I… I mean, yes.” You take a deep breath. “Was this the ideal way to find out? Absolutely fucking not. But… Halsin. Nothing could change the way I feel about you.”

“You… feel about me?” He seems genuinely confused.

You roll your eyes, and everything you have been keeping inside for weeks now, all the feelings you tried to shun and suppress, bubble to the surface.

“You are incredible,” you whisper. You push yourself closer to him, your fingers finding his and holding tight. “I…The way you took care of me- I should have guessed you were a druid. I should have known-”

“-you couldn’t have-”

“-and even if I had known earlier, or even if I hadn’t found out just now, nothing would have changed. I love staying here, with you.”

His fingers squeeze yours gently.

“I am glad I found you, you know? This summer has been one of the best I have had in many years.”

You smile quietly, but you don’t push him. There has been a sizable surprise already, you are not sure you could take another one. You are happy just sitting next to him, his large palm covering your hand entirely.

You limp back into the cave eventually, holding onto Halsin’s thick forearm for stability, and curl up in bed again.

“I won’t ask any questions,” you say as he sits by your side, peeling berries from a twig. “But you can always talk to me. You know that, right?”

There is a small smile in his eyes.

“Thank you.”

When he doesn’t say anything else, you lay back, your lids shutting all on their own.

You dream of a bear with Halsin’s voice and Halsin’s eyes, leading you through a forest with thick trees and sweet smells. He never leaves your side and you are never lost.

*****

The next day, you ask Halsin if he can carry you to the meadow that lies before the cave.

“I cannot bear another day of being bed-ridden,” you complain. After a moment of hesitation, you add deviously, “...no pun intended.”

Halsin’s face freezes, then he bursts out in laughter, so loud it makes your ears hurt in the small space of the cave. You watch his shoulders shake with joy and think to yourself that you have never been happier.

You could probably walk to the meadow by yourself if you had a walking stick or something similar. After all, you made it nearly all the way yesterday. Neither of you ever mentions that, not when he scoops you up into his arms, and not when he kneels on the softest patch of grass he can find to put you down. You like being taken care of. You like being taken care of by him. And you get the feeling he likes taking care of you, too. One day, you’ll return the favour.

You spend the whole day there, watching Halsin go about his day, enjoying the sun on your face and the birdsong around you. The meadow is beautiful, and your eyes keep finding something new every time you look around. When Halsin carries you back to your bed that night, you can barely sleep thinking about what the next day might bring.

He carries you to the meadow every day from then on, and lays you down, as gently as if you could break, to rest in the summery sunlight. You ask him if he has anything you could help with, and he shows you how to weave baskets, how to skin an animal so you can use its hide, how to whittle and sharpen your knives and so much more. You get the feeling he just enjoys teaching you things - none of this is actually directly helpful to him in any way. 

But when his deep voice calmly instructs you and sings your praises when you manage to get things right, how could you ever complain? And it’s nice to see nature through his eyes: not scary and strange, but familiar and comforting, providing all anyone could ever need.

A week passes like that, and then another. Halsin spends more and more time by your side, brooding over scrolls, helping you hone your new skills. He fishes so he can stay close to you - or at least, you hope that is why. And one day, he asks you something unexpected.

He is sitting next to you, checking the rod of his fishing pole. You watch him as you always do - out of the corner of your eye, fascinated beyond measure by everything he does and the way he moves. He clears his throat suddenly, and you are startled from your daydreams.

“I want to ask you something. The bear… did I scare you?”

You consider this for a moment, your hand resting next to his on the damp grass.

“No,” you answer finally, and truthfully. “It- it scared me that I didn’t know it was you. But once I found out that you were the bear and the bear was you… you have never scared me. Never made me feel unsafe. Why should the bear be any different? He is just another part of you. Is there… Why do you ask?”

“Well,” he grumbles, shifting beside you, and putting down the fishing rod. “You haven’t seen me in that form since then, and… I didn’t know if you would mind.”

He sounds so cautious it makes you think that someone before you did, in fact, mind. But you don’t- and you tell him so.

“Good.” His sigh is one of relief, and a broad smile appears on his features. “I will be honest, I was getting tired of using a rod to catch our dinner.”

It takes you a moment to understand what he is saying. When you realise, a shiver runs down your spine - excitement more than anything else. You are way more excited to see his bear form again than you probably should be.

“Do you… usually catch fish as a bear?” you ask, trying to sound casual. Halsin turns to you, and your heart stumbles. His features are illuminated by the light of the afternoon, soft and glowing, and a strand of hair sticks to his cheek. You want to brush it back, you want to-

“I do, yes. It’s… easier. Less time consuming. And it’s not fishing - it’s a hunt. It is fun, and it helps me… keep control while I am human. The hunt relaxes me, but it also gets my blood pumping - it can be hard to control the beast if I don’t let it out every once in a while.”

You swallow thickly. You could imagine some other situations that would get his blood pumping-

“Ah,” is the only response you can utter without sounding like a desperate fool.

A moment passes. Halsin’s fingers play with the grass, pulling and weaving. You clear your throat.

“Well, I don’t think we have any food left for tonight.”

He looks up at you, his eyes shining. You know full well that there is a basket full of smoked meat in the cave, and a whole collection of berries, weeds and flowers to eat. He must know it too.

“Well, then,” is all Halsin says. “I’d better get you back inside and go hunting, wouldn’t I?”

He gets up, towering over you in all his glory. You bite your lip.

“Actually… I was thinking I could stay here,” you mumble.

Halsin cocks his head.

“You want to watch me hunt? I promise, it’s not nearly as exciting as it sounds.”

“I don’t mind,” you admit quietly. “I just… like watching you. I would like to learn more about you - and about the bear. If that is what you want as well.”

“Hm.” He glances across the meadow, over to the river, where the water gurgles and the fishes leap. “I suppose… this should be far enough away.”

Excitement floods you like fire in your veins. You smile at him, squinting into the sun.

Halsin flashes you his teeth in a short smile. You try not to stare as he stalks over to the large boulder next to the cave and starts shedding his clothes. You try really, really hard. And you fail miserably.

You have never seen an elf with his build, the bulging muscles, the soft belly, the thickness of his thighs and the roundness of his broad shoulders. It gets you every time.

He wades into the water, and you watch as a golden shimmer flashes across his skin, bringing fur and claws and wildness with it. It makes you think of that time he built a bath for you - how his eyes flashed, how you told yourself that the spark in the water was just an odd trick of the light.

Now you think it might not have been. 

The beast is hard to control when my blood runs hot.

Your belly tightens when you think about the implications of it. Was he- when he got in the pool with you… how close had he been to losing control? What would-

A triumphant roar interrupts your budding inappropriate thoughts. You watch as the bear - large and imposing, the water parting around its mighty hind legs - scoops one fish after another from the river. The thought that this wild animal is Halsin- that he is actually in there, with all his careful attentiveness, all his gentle touches- makes you feel things you cannot describe.

The whole thing cannot last more than a few minutes, but you feel like you watch the bear forever, in all his wild golden-brown glory. Every once in a while, his head turns to you as if to make sure you are still watching. Eventually, the bear wades back to shore. Only as he comes closer do you realise just how huge he actually is: Round belly, soft fur and deceptively cute ears.

A sudden flash of panic surges through you when you realise that you have no way of escaping him.

Your arms start to shake and you have to remind yourself to take deep breaths. It’s Halsin. This is Halsin, he would never hurt you. You press your eyes shut, then hastily open them again. The bear’s steps have slowed, he watches you with careful eyes. With Halsin’s eyes.

Your heartbeat calms.

With some effort, you heave yourself up from the ground, and stretch out a hand towards the bear. With steps that make the ground shake, he approaches, ever so slowly, until his wet nose bumps against your palm.

Carefully, you run your fingers up his flat nose, slowing your breath when the bear plops down next to you with a deep huff. He seems so… gentle. The wildness of the hunt is gone, evaporated along with the water of the river he stood in. 

You don’t fool yourself- you have seen the damage a bear’s claws and fangs can do, and Halsin would be no different. And yet, nothing about him seems threatening or dangerous. 

Your hand follows the outline of his fur-covered ear, and you smile when he twitches. For a while, you let yourself stay very still, until your legs start to tremble with exhaustion from standing up. Finally, you give in, sinking to the ground. Your stomach makes an absolutely inhuman noise as you do, and you realise how hungry you are.

The bear’s ears prick up. Languidly, he rises to his feet, shaking his fur like a wet dog.

“Hey!” you giggle when the droplets of water hit you. The bear’s head whips around, and the baring of his fangs seems almost like a smile.

He trods off, towards the boulder, and in a shudder of golden light, his form contracts and fur gives way to skin once more. Halsin smiles at you softly.

“You are a miracle, little flower.” His deep voice carries across the meadow, and you wonder if he meant for you to hear it. Heat rises to your cheeks as Halsin unabashedly dries himself off before stepping back into his trousers and pulling his shirt over his head.

He never seems to care about these things: him or you unclothed before one another. He never seems to notice it in the same way you do, though you think you have caught him looking at you a few times. You always tell yourself you must be mistaken - certainly, he would have acted upon it by now.

But to see him like this, to get to be part of his world so entirely- to be able to gaze upon the bear and see the man… Well, your blood certainly runs hotter, that’s for sure.

Halsin crouches down next to you, his finger stroking your cheek.

“You really don’t mind, do you?” His voice is full of wonder. You shrug and smile at him.

“I told you that I don't.”

“Many have told me. Few have ever truly meant it,” he mumbles. There is a pause, his face so close to yours that all you want to do is grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him in for a kiss.

Halsin clears his throat.

“I should get the fish.”

As he wanders off, you are left to stare after him, wondering if maybe, he does not feel the same way about you as you do about him.

*****

That night, you have a nightmare.

It’s the worst one since the battle, and you wake up in tears, screaming until your lungs give out. You are only half-awake, thrashing in your bed, the smell of blood in your nose, when Halsin is already by your side, in human form, pushing your flailing arms down to the bed and talking over your cries.

“It’s alright, little flower. You are alright, you are here with me, alive and well- you are fine, I’m here with you, I’m here…”

You bury your face against his chest and sob, haunted by the faces of your dead companions, by knives slashing at you and the sharp agony of an arrow through your shoulder. Halsin holds you through the pain, his arms tight around you, the warmth of his body the only thing tethering you to the presence.

When your head hurts and you have no more tears, you gently unwind yourself from his embrace, staring at him through swollen lids. The question slips out of your mouth before you think about it.

“Will you sleep here tonight? I don’t think I can fall asleep again on my own.”

“Of course, my love.” There is not a moment’s hesitation, he just crawls into bed with you and opens his arms. You bury yourself in his strong embrace, feeling small and fragile. You are so relieved that he is here, his mere presence providing much needed comfort.

“No harm will ever come to you again,” Halsin murmurs into your hair. “I shall see to that. I will be there to protect you, little flower.”

The tears you cry now are those of an affection you cannot put into words. Exhausted by your nightmares, you fall asleep wrapped in him. You wake up a few more times that night, scared and shaking, but Halsin is always there, stroking your hair and telling sweet stories until you fall back asleep.

When you wake properly in the morning, your bed is cold where Halsin used to lay, and your sheets are stained with sweat and tears. With eyes still swollen from last night, you scoot to the edge of your bed and test the waters. Your legs carry you - hesitantly, but they do carry you. You stumble through the cave, dragging your sheets with you, intent on washing them so they can dry during the day. You will not make Halsin clean up your mess again. He did enough last night.

When you reach the outside with trembling legs, Halsin is nowhere to be seen, though you find a note at your boulder:

I am sorry if I have not returned and you must find me gone. I did not intend to leave you alone, but you looked so peaceful I did not want to wake you. I am on a hunt - I shall be back before you know it, little flower.

You grumble, but fold the note up neatly to put it in your pocket.

Little flower. He makes you smile even in his absence.

The few steps to the river seem like an eternity, but you need to wash the sweat off of yourself and your sheets. In the shallows, you can sit, though the water is ice cold and even less comfortable than it was in the little pool Halsin once made for you. However, the feeling helps you wake up, and as you are hanging your sheets from the tree branches, hurrying to rest your burning legs, you spot the bear on his way back towards your little camp.

Your heart beats faster at the sight of him: Halsin is back. You knew he would not leave you alone for long - you wondered that he left at all. Then again, you have seen the amount of food the man eats, so maybe it was hunger that drove him out of the cave.

The bear lumbers towards you, bumping your hand with his snout.

“Hey there,” you smile. Sometimes, you find it hard to connect the animal and the man, even though rationally, you know they are the same. But the bear makes it so much easier to touch him, to not feel like you are asking for too much when you let your fingers glide through his fur. He nuzzles against you so hard you nearly topple over and you laugh.

“Oy! Careful there, I’m still not too well up on my legs.” You smile to soften the blow of your words, then point towards the little hollow in the meadow where you usually sit. “Will you come lay with me? I could use the warmth after my bath.”

The bear snuffles and nods his head. You hold onto him, using his sturdy form as a crutch as you wrap yourself up in a clean sheet and make your way over to your usual spot. There are some leftovers from last night to snack on, and Halsin has left you a scroll or two with some stories about the forest. You grow curiouser and curiouser how he has accumulated all that knowledge. You know he is a druid, but he seems to know so much about the forest and all its inhabitants that you want to learn more as well.

The bear curls up next to you, sniffling and groaning quietly as he does. You carefully lean back against him, buried in a living blanket of fur and warmth. He is so comfortable, his breath quiet and steady, his belly expanding against you whenever he inhales.

You have some food while you read, but soon, your eyelids grow heavy and you close your eyes. Just for a moment, you tell yourself. You will just rest for a moment.

Sleep has you faster than a net catches a fish.

When you wake up, nothing has changed apart from the light - it has become the light of a late afternoon, the sun already low in the sky. You stretch slowly, hearing your joints crack with the movement. The bear next to you huffs and shifts. You turn around to face him, raising a brow.

“Seems we’re both having quite the lazy day, aren’t we?” You chuckle to yourself. Your stomach is growling, though, and as much as you wish you could curl up against the bear again, you should probably cook something. When you tell this to Halsin, the bear rises to his feet and trods over to the boulder where Halsin’s clothes are strewn about.

The familiar golden shimmer rises from his fur, and a moment later, Halsin in his human form regards you with warm brown eyes.

“I’ll help you,” he says.

*****

It becomes part of your ritual after that: You, curling up against the bear whenever you grow tired and he is there. Every day, Halsin seems to get more comfortable changing shape around you, and you are happy about it. The bear, oddly enough, is an excellent listener. Telling him things feels easier than telling them to another person, even though you think to yourself that telling Halsin things is already easier than telling anyone else.

Maybe it’s the fact that he doesn’t speak, or the comfort of being able to touch him without implications. Still, your heart beats faster at any shape Halsin is in, and you slowly come to realise that it’s not only lust that moves your heart. You like him. You care about him - a lot more than you realised.

Sometimes, as long as the nights are still warm enough, you sleep under the stars, curled up in the bear’s warmth, talking about the vastness of the universe or the flavour of the berries you had that day. Sometimes, Halsin the man sleeps in your bed, thick arms wrapped around your body which always seems so tiny in his embrace. He always makes you feel so safe, and he never asks for anything more. He just crawls into bed with you and opens his arms, and you slot against him like you were created to fill that space.

The only time you are ever really apart is when Halsin the bear goes hunting. Sometimes he comes home with his snout covered in blood, but you don’t mind. That is as much part of him as your violence is part of you, and you know he never kills without reason. The forest is about balance, and Halsin would never disrupt that. He starts bringing you wild game to cook and brine. Under his guidance, you learn more and more about the forest and its plants and creatures.

The leaves are almost turning when you are finally fully healed.

You never talk about it - not really. One day, Halsin just takes the bandages off and puts no new ones on. One day, you can make it all the way across the meadow by yourself, and then you venture into the forest, and beyond the cave; in the beginning always with the man or the bear by your side, and after some time, you go on your own, picking berries and mushrooms while Halsin hunts. And you never talk about leaving.

It is a quiet and peaceful and happy life. You have become closer than you ever thought you would, but still, he has never indicated that he wants anything more - nothing, aside from the sparkle in his eyes when he looks at you. You are not even sure him sleeping in your bed is any indication that he likes you… in that way. That his affections are of the same kind as your own.

You try to be quiet in your love for him, afraid of disrupting the harmony, afraid he might leave if this is not what he wants anymore. You don’t press too close, you don’t bat your lashes, you don’t make any jokes, afraid it might all get too much. The thought of losing Halsin is more than you can stand.

One day, you are laying in the tall grass next to each other, your fingers interlaced as you look up at the clouds.

“That one looks like a bear,” you say, squinting at a particularly round accumulation of clouds and pointing.

“Do you say that to tease me?” Halsin laughs. “Have I become so fat and lazy in your presence, my love?”

You frown, sitting up on your elbows, unhappy that your silly joke could have made him think that way about himself.

“You are neither of those things, Halsin. You are perfect.”

“Perfect…” he muses. “It is not in nature to be perfect, and yet all of nature is.”

You watch him, the softness of his profile, the tree trunks of his arms, the lines all of his sunshine smiles have left on his face. And before you can overthink it, you roll over and clamber into his lap.

Halsin’s eyes are full of surprise, but his hands grab your hips immediately, slotting right into place as if he has been waiting for centuries to touch you. You look down at him, anxiety and excitement mixing in your belly.

Halsin looks back, his eyes warm and soft and hungry, mirroring your own.

You lean forward, tentative and slow, giving him time to stop you, to pull away, to lift you off his lap as if you were a feather. But instead, Halsin straightens up, his lips meeting yours in a sweet relief of tension.

You close your eyes, your hands burying in his hair, his fingers digging into your hips. The kiss is sweet, but there is something  simmering just beneath the surface - a hunger that is hard to describe but which consumes you whole. Your lips are swollen when you break apart, and your heartbeat is fast in your throat.

“I’ve been meaning to do that for so long,” you croak out, your hands fluttering nervously to his shoulders, his jaw, his chest. Halsin smiles, and it’s the most beautiful thing you have ever seen.

“If I had known, I would have encouraged you more.” His eyes roam your body unabashedly, and heat rises to your cheeks. “All these times I slept in your bed, I could have done so much more to help you… relax.”

You choke on your own tongue, surprised by how forward he suddenly is.

“I-” you need a moment to make your brain function again. “I’m sure we will find some time for that still, my love.”

“Mhhm, I hope so.” Halsin’s fingers stroke your cheek. “I was so focused on making sure you would feel better- I should have noticed- I should have told you that this was always an option.”

“Always?” Your brain is spinning and you think you may have lost control of your limbs. Halsin’s eyes sparkle with amusement.

“Always, little flower. There is nothing under the sun that is not beautiful, and you may be the most beautiful of all of nature’s creations I have ever witnessed.”

You have never fancied yourself a particularly romantic kind of girl, but his words make your heart flutter and your breath hitch. Halsin’s eyes flash golden and he grimaces, his hands tightening on you for just the fraction of a second. The shimmer reminds you of something, something that seems so long ago now.

“The way your eyes just- that time in the pool, when you made a bath just for me-”

“I wanted you,” Halsin interrupts you. “I wanted you with every fibre of my being, but you had never given any indication that you had thought about me that way. I was worried I might scare you away if I was too forward- that you would not feel comfortable in my presence anymore. You were not well back then, and I… I could not risk losing control. The bear would have destroyed you.”

“The bear-” your mouth hangs open at the implication of his words. “Do you mean- I-”

“I told you, it’s hard to tame the beast when blood runs hot.” Halsin’s eyes are golden again in the light of the sinking sun. “Being around you so much has made things easier in some senses, and harder in others. I only want what you want, be it man or bear.”

“Or both,” you whisper. His eyes widen just a fraction, but that is enough. You kiss him again, with all the desperation, all the desire and yearning you have kept inside for the past few months. The groan that escapes him is animalistic, and before you know it, Halsin has picked you up and risen from the ground.

You wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you, your back slamming against stone when he presses up against the entrance of the cave.

“Do you know what you are saying, my heart?” Halsin’s voice is hoarse. His breath is hot on your face and you shiver at the look in his eyes - pure desire that sparks liquid fire in your belly.

You tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, lost in the feeling of his strong, warm body against yours, trying to somehow get even closer, to feel even more of him.

“I do,” you confirm quietly. “Though for tonight… maybe I’ll stick with you in this form.”

Halsin laughs, the sound rising into the air like smoke from a campfire.

“A wise decision, little flower.” His mouth descends onto you again in a swift motion. “We’ll have to make sure I fit as it is.”

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I am once again in tears over him, come and be soft with me my loves. If you would like to be added to my taglist, follow this link please.

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[sometimesanalice]

Give Me Your Hand {Here Is My Heart}

Summary: You’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what it would be like to be in Bradley Bradshaw’s bed, and now you finally get to find out. (Spoiler: It’s even better than you could have ever imagined.)

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 8K+

Warnings: so much smut with a side of fluff (Minors DNI)

(This is a 2-Part series for the “Like I Can” Universe. However, it can be read on its own!)  Read Part 1 here!

“Well, are you coming?”

You are two lace trimmed bits of cotton away from being naked, and you can feel his heated gaze traveling over your body as you walk towards his stairs with a teasing sway of your hips.

If you had known you were going to end your night shimmying down your little red dress in front of Bradley, you might have tried to wear something a bit more underneath it, just for him.

But there was no missing the intensity and the desire that was in his eyes as he had watched you strip before him. It was more than clear that liked what he saw.

The appreciative way Bradley was looking at you made your everyday underwear feel sexier than La Perla ever could. 

You don’t get very far before your whole world tilts as you’re lifted off the ground and tossed over his broad shoulder.

“Oh my god, Bradley! Warn a girl.” The sound coming out of you part gasp, part laugh.

“Heads up, kid.” There is no missing the smug smile in his voice, as he grips you a little tighter.

You’re dangling behind him trying to support yourself on his lower back, a useless endeavor since every step he takes up the stairs only serves to make you lose your grasp.

“Are you sure you got a strong enough hold on my ass there, Bradshaw?” you complain flippantly. 

You wiggle a little trying to alleviate some of the pressure on your stomach.

“Stop trying to distract me,” he grunts, digging his fingertips further into the fleshy muscle in a way you didn’t mind at all. “I’m carrying some precious cargo.”

He tops off the end of his sentence with a light swat of his hand on your other cheek like he would a cherry on a sundae. And you have to bite your lip to keep from making the noise that was trying to crawl it’s way out of your throat, one that would give away just how much you liked his strong hands on your ass.

Bradley stops at the first door on the left and bends a little as he eases you off his shoulder. You lean back against the wall watching self-indulgently as he straightens up in front of you.

There is nothing subtle about Bradley Bradshaw. Not the commanding way he enters a room. Not the force of his energetic smile. Not the powerful build of his body. And definitely not the way he is checking you out.

It’s your first time being up here, there’s never been a reason to come upstairs before. You can’t help but wonder if the spaces here have the same sense of functional practicality as his downstairs does. Everything has a purpose, but nothing has much of a personality.

And Bradley has the best personality.

Maybe if you ask nicely he will let you help him pick out some things to make his place feel more like a home. More like him.

Reaching out you thread a finger through one of his belt loops and tug him closer to you. Bradley grins as he comes to crowd you against the wall before leaning in to kiss you, his warm hands coming up to frame your face.

For the other men you’ve dated in the past, kissing was a means to an end. A mandatory part of foreplay to perform in order to speed things along. But with Bradley, he kisses you with a type of single-minded determinedness that always sends your heart racing.

He has never been the type to do anything half-heartedly. Kissing is the agenda. It is the main course. He is happy to take his time to savor the taste and feel of you. He’s not thinking about how quickly he can move on to the next thing. He kisses you like he couldn’t dream of doing anything else.

You have never felt so entirely treasured in your life as you do right now outside of his bedroom in his arms. 

It’s hard to fight back the smile that makes it impossible for him to keep his lips on yours, and when he pulls back the look on his face is nothing short than pure fondness.

“I’m excited to have you like this,” you admit to him, soft and sure.

It would be a new first, a new moment, a new memory. His and yours alone.

“Yeah?” he asks with a gentle smile quirked to one side. “I am too.” He settles his hands on your hips, his thumbs skimming over the skin at right above the waistband of your panties. “We go at your speed, sweet girl. As much or as little as you want. Whatever you want is what I want too.”

“And if I want everything?”

“Then I’ll give you everything,” he promises, pulling you close to get his mouth on yours again. You could taste the unspoken always in his kiss.

There was still a small part of you that was nervous about what feelings could come up in the after, the worry that bittersweet what-ifs could color all of your perfect memories with him. But you were done with not letting yourself have everything you want with him.

And with one more indulgent kiss to his lips, you take his hand and lead the way into his bedroom.

Bradley lingers near the door as he watches you take in his bedroom. One could call it snooping, but he knew you’d have some other smart-assed term for it.

He had been able to tell that something was on your mind for a while. And the last thing he wanted to do was put pressure on this new thing between the two of you by making you talk about it before you were ready.

You had always been in his life, but when you moved to San Diego after living separate lives for over fifteen years, he couldn’t deny that it felt different being around you again. In a good way, in the best way. 

And those terrible dates you went on had made him come to terms with his feelings much earlier than you. Bradley knew exactly what he wanted with you, and he would give you all the time you needed to get there too.

He is amused, but not surprised, when the first thing you do is go to investigate is his bookshelf. Your fingers skimming the spines as you read over the titles.

It’s mainly a collection of NATOPS manuals he’s memorized inside and out from the aircrafts he’s been trained to use and other technical handbooks, along with his old collection of the Hardy Boys, a few political biographies and mystery novels he hasn’t had the chance to read yet.

He had felt like such an idiot when he made that joke about sleeping with the enemy in your car on the way to the surprise movie date you had planned for him. He hadn’t missed the way your body had tensed up. Or how you would always pull back and stumble over some flimsy reason why you had to call it a night when things would get on the exciting side of too heated or too physical.

He knew that you would come around to telling him what was holding you back on your own time, he just didn’t expect it to be after you had come in his lap from rubbing yourself on him in that sinful dress of yours. 

The one that taunted and tempted him from the second he had opened his door that night. The one now a heap somewhere on the floor of his living room.

“So why do men love bitches, Bradley?” The question shakes him from his musings.

You turn to him with a mischievous smile painted on your pretty face as you gleefully show off the book that he had completely forgotten about like you have hit the jackpot.

“How do I still have that?” He huffs a laugh crossing towards you, leaning on hip on his desk to get a closer look. “Nat give it to me after I broke up with my ex a few years ago, they never got along. She even drew some red flags on the paper she wrapped it in when she gave it to me.”

“Ah, that explains the inscription. ‘Know the playbook, so you don’t get played again.’” you read with a snort. “For what it’s worth, I never liked Paige either. She was always seemed like such a shit-stirrer. Good thing you came to your senses. He’s pretty and smart, folks.” You send him a playful little wink before you go back to your investigation of his room.

It’s not even a contest, you are his absolute favorite person in this world.

And you look so perfect, so real in your nude bra and white panties in his bedroom. He likes that this wasn’t planned, that he gets to have you so authentically. He wants you just as you are.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he can’t help but wonder a little self-consciously what his space must look like to you through your eyes as you wander around.

His room is a mismatched collection of furniture that people have passed along to him over the years. Stuff that others didn’t need or that they upgraded from to something newer and better. Everything else that wasn’t donated to him were easily assembled things from IKEA.

He didn’t mind it in here, but he’s also never particularly liked it. It’s always just been a place to sleep.

He has his sturdy wood bed frame against one wall, it creaks sometimes when he turns over but he that’s what he got for putting it together after a few of beers. There is large print hung above it so the wall wasn’t totally bare. Next to his bookcase was a desk and small filing cabinet. He has a spare room in his condo that he has been meaning to turn into an office, but this set up was familiar to him after so many years of living in the barracks.

But if you were going to be here with him, Bradley wanted you to be comfortable in his home. Maybe he could find a few new things for the room to make it nicer, cozier for you with stuff that wasn’t other peoples’ cast offs.

There was only one nightstand for fuck’s sake, which is where he watches you linger in front of now.

“Wait, Bradley. Is this…” you trail off, picking up the framed sheet music from his nightstand. Your finger traces over the upper righthand corner in the exact spot where he knows three vibrant blazing fireballs decorate the page.

Hand-drawn by a ten-year-old you.

They were overly cartoonish in the way that most kids’ drawings were at that age. But it was obvious you had spent time on it for him by the way the reds, oranges, and yellows of your colored penciled artwork had been perfectly blended.

“Yeah.” He has to clear his throat, “Yeah, it is.”

“I can’t believe you still have this,” you say quietly.

You had given him the book of sheet music that included his favorite crowd-pleasing song to play on the piano for his twelfth birthday. He had had the notes memorized for almost a decade before he had put it in a frame, he had wanted to have this reminder of home with him instead of sitting in a box somewhere.

Other than the mounted toy fighter jet his mom had given him, it was the only thing that he had always taken with him as he moved around the world from base to base.

He thought he had seen every expression that’s ever crossed your face, but you have never looked at him like quite like this before. Your face is filled with such tenderness and something he can’t quite put his finger on.

“Well, you know what Marie Kondo says about things that sparks joy,” he jokes light-heartedly, trying to find his footing again.

“Is there anything else in here that sparks joy in here?” You put the frame back down, observing him with your head tilted to the side as you sat on his bed and leaned back on your hands. It did amazing things to your chest.

“I can think of one or two things,” he says, playing along. You look so perfect in his bed, it was going to feel too big without you in it now.

“Are you going to come join me? Or do you just want to keep on checking out my breasts from over there?” you ask teasingly, pushing yourself back further on top of his bed. Your feet are resting on the edge, knees knocked together swaying enticingly from side to side.

You are easily the prettiest thing in his room.

Bradley takes his time as he saunters over to come join you at the bed. But when he comes to stand at the edge of the mattress, you stop him with a dainty foot to his chest.

“That’s bold of you to assume you this is a clothing permitted establishment,” you say popping up onto your elbows, applying a bit more force to where you’re pressing into him.

“Is that so?” he hums. Wrapping his hand around your ankle, he lets his thumb circle over the rounded joint there. “You know you’re in my room, in my bed, right?”

“Mm-hmm. I’m very aware. I like how it smells like you in here.” He watches as your hand makes indistinguishable shapes on the top of his linen duvet, “I’ve got to say, I’m pretty sure I’ve the best view in the house right now.”

He rakes his eyes over your figure, “Hm, think we’ll have to agree to disagree on that one.”

“You might be right,” you tell him cheekily, “My view could be so much better if you’d take some clothes off.”

“You sayin’ you want a show, kid?”

“I wouldn’t say no to one, if you are offering,” you say stretching like a satisfied cat. And there are those dimples of yours. If only you knew how just how gone he was for them.

“I can give you a show.” His voice is whiskey smooth as he squeezes your ankle.

Bradley holds your hot, greedy gaze as he removes his watch and sets it down on the nightstand. The way he undoes the buttons on his shirt could almost be called lazy if it weren’t for the purposeful way he watched your every shallow breath, as he listened to your unsteady exhales.

He has to tap on your foot to remind you to lift it off of his chest so that he can take his shirt off. You rest that foot high on his thigh instead, dangerously close to his quickly hardening cock. And then he is tugging his shirt off and tossing it somewhere behind him.

The fabric of his comforter is clenched tight beneath your fists.

Reaching behind his neck he grasps the collar of his tank, pulling it over his head in one smooth motion making sure that his biceps and abs are flexed for your benefit. If you wanted something to look at, he was going to give you an eyeful.

He lets out a satisfied sound as lets his hand indulgently, leisurely trail down his chest, down his abdomen as he watches you steadily. There is no reason for him to hold back his proud smirk when sees the way your lips part as he reaches the top of his jeans. 

“How am I doing?” he drawls knowingly.

Your eyes are glued to his hand as he languidly unbuckles his belt.

“Good. Yeah, very good.” He sees the way you swallow hard as he begins to pull it out from his belt loops. The thick tension building between the two of you has his pulse pounding.

He likes the desire he sees reflected in your eyes as you take him in, “I’d leave you at least four-stars on Yelp.”

Bradley lets his belt fall to the floor, it lands with a satisfying clunk. Your eyes fly to his at the sound.

“Mm, only four-stars? Such a tough critic,” he muses lightly as he casually runs his finger up and down your calf. “What’s a guy gotta do to get five?”

You’re devouring him with your eyes and he wants to take over the way you’re nibbling on your lower lip with his teeth. “Drop the denim, Bradshaw.”

“You’re right, it’s only fair,” he concedes, admiring the way your nipples are raised against the cups of your bra. He teases a finger under the black elastic band that is peeking out from over the top of his favorite jeans, “I’m telling you now that what’s under these isn’t anywhere as pretty as what you’ve got on.”

“I think I’ll be the judge of that, thank you very much,” you say as primly as possible given how affected you are, pressing your foot harder into the muscle of his thigh. “Plus, I think you’re plenty pretty.”

God, he loves that he gets to have you like this.

That even when you’re both half naked and riled up you can still banter with each other. That he can still make you smile and you can still make him laugh all while the undercurrent of need pulses around you.

“Bradley, come on.” The hint of whine that accompanies the way you say his name goes straight to his cock. He wouldn’t mind hearing you beg sweetly for him sometime, but not tonight. 

He was going to give you whatever you wanted.

“Patience, sweet girl. I’m putting on a show here, remember?” he tells you with a playful grin as he bends over your body to kiss you deeply. Your legs part for him and come up to hug his hips. When he pulls away after a few moments you move to sit up, chasing the feeling of his mouth on yours. But he puts a hand to your sternum pressing you back down onto his bed with his fingertips before standing up to his full height above you.

The silence in the room is deafening as he unbuttons the top of his jeans. And then he is slowly pulling his zipper down for you.

Your heart is hammering as Bradley peels off those form-fitting jeans of his strong legs.

His body is a work of art. You could stare for hours and still find something new to admire. From the rounded definition of his shoulders, the smattering of chest hair between his full pectorals, the ridges and valleys of his abs, to the v-shaped muscles that lead your eyes directly to the outline of his hard, thick cock that you’re getting an up-close look at for the first time.

It looks as good as the rest of him does.

“Good god,” you groan, covering your eyes. “Honestly, Bradley?” The sound of his deep, warm chuckle has you pulling your hands away from your face, he is clearly amused by your reaction. “Be serious with me right now, that is totally how you got your callsign, isn’t it?” Gesturing to his sizable cock with a wave of your hand.

“I’ve told you that story before,” he tells you as he climbs on the bed and settles next to you.

“You’ve told me a story, but I’ve never believed it.” You turn on your side to fully face him, throwing one of your legs over him as nonchalantly as possible, as if it was totally normal to be half-naked in his bed with him. “‘I was just the only morning person on my squad’,” you say lowering your voice mimic his, “I don’t buy it. Not to mention, Natasha always made a face whenever you told that version to someone who was flirting with you.”

“Fine, you really wanna know?” he asks as he squeezes your hip. His cheeks are already lightly flushed, and now you’re downright giddy about this new development. It’s not often you get to see him so bashful around you.  

“I knew you were withholding important information from me, Rooster,” you trill.

He grunts something unintelligible before he has you gasping when he grips your thigh and rolls over, pinning you underneath him.

And oh. You like the feel of him pressed against you.

There is something comforting about the weight of his hard, sunkissed body as he relaxes more fully on you. It wasn’t like you didn’t know he was built but the sheer sturdiness of him and how he fits with you like this is so good it’s dizzying.

He really is so handsome. With his face this close to yours, you can see every shade of brown in his pretty eyes. You bring a hand up to his face, letting your fingers brush over the coarse hairs of his mustache.

“Don’t think that just because you manhandled me, that you’re off the hook here. I’m not so easily distracted.” It’s a lie, but you think you pull it off well.

“Ok, ok,” he relents, kissing your fingertips then guiding your hand around to the base of his neck. “There are usually two versions of the story that pilots will tell, the one that makes them look good and the one that actually happened. But most pilots get their callsign from doing something stupid or screwing something up.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” you say with a teasing grin. “Which category do you fall in?”

“Believe it or not, both,” he admits ruefully. A small boyish smile on his face.

“Oh, I believe it,” you beamed.

“So,” he continues, with a fond shake of his head, “There was a girl I used to hook up with in my squadron. We had a friends with benefits type thing for a while when we were first deployed.” That made you scrunch you nose, he chuckles leaning in to kiss your cheek. “But she was always, uh, loud. Especially when I would go down on her.” He says that last part in a rush, almost like he is trying to gloss over it.

It wasn’t a secret to you that Bradley had gotten around, you had heard the whispers when you visited him at UVA and in the bathroom at the Hard Deck when you had first moved here. And it wasn’t like you had been sitting on your couch knitting like some Jane Austen spinster, you have had your fun too.

“Mmm-hmm.” You stroke his leg with your foot encouraging him to continue.

He is entirely adorable in the way he full-blown blushing now as he tries so hard not to fidget, even as his fingers idly play with the strap of your bra.

“We were fooling around early one morning after she has stayed over. Which I am sure you can guess, that kind of socializing was very much frowned upon,” he allows with a sheepish dip of his head. “As it turned out, one of the Petty Officers decided to do a surprise barracks inspection that morning. And, uh, well, we didn’t hear his arrival and the announcement or any of the noise in the hallway-”

“Because you’re good with your mouth,” you gleefully interject.

“You said it not me, kid,” he says nudging your cheek with his nose. You are grinning so wide now because he is getting so flustered as his story goes on. “So fast forward to us getting caught in the act. They let her run back to her own barrack, but I had to stand there at attention for the whole inspection in my boxer briefs with a hard-on.

The mental image of that was equal parts amusing and appealing, especially after the show he just gave you.

“And since my clothes were still on the ground from the night before, I got an auto-fail for having gear adrift. They even called in some of the guys from my unit to double check the inspection results and make an example out of my, um, indiscretion. After that, well, Rooster stuck.”

“I knew it!” you hoot before bursting into a fit of laughter. “I knew there had to be an X-rated reason, you dirty bird. Oh my god, Bradley! No wonder why Nat can’t keep a straight face.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he chuckles good-naturedly, his eyes crinkling in the corner. “There you have it, that’s the whole story. And just so you know, it is literally on the record that I was an early riser when I got written up for it. So technically that part is true.”

“In more ways than one,” you titter with a lewd wiggle of your eyebrows.

He looks up to the ceiling and groans, “How long are you going to tease me about this, kid?”

You make a big show about doing the math in your head until he nips at your collarbone.

“Probably for as long as you’ve had your callsign, I’ve got a few years to catch up on. It’s only fair since you lied to me, your best friend, for so long. I’m wounded,” you lament unconvincingly.

“I had an image as a responsible adult to maintain.” That makes you snort as you wrap both of your arms around his neck pulling him closer to you.

You half-heartedly roll your eyes, “I’m only two years younger than you.”

“Mm, that makes you the baby here,” he hums against your neck. “Wasn’t gonna give you the full version back then, not when you had such impressionable ears.”

His body is so warm, so solid against yours. And his thigh is pressing into the center of you. You’re surprised how quickly he can go from making you laugh to making you squirm.

“You know what I don’t get?” you muse tugging on his curls.

He runs mustache along your neck, “Enlighten me.”

“Why would they punish you when they could have just made you pose for the cover of a Navy pamphlet? Seems a little shortsighted, if you ask me,” you quip, a bit breathlessly. “I mean, they’d be turning down new recruits left and right. Everyone would be so inspired to serve their country. Propaganda with a side of eye candy.”

Bradley pinches your waist, making you yelp and rock against him. He sucks in a sharp breath at the contact. The mood shifting instantly from playful into something else entirely.

“You like what you see, huh?” He shifts his weight into his arms, lifting up a bit. Not only do you have a stellar view of his abs now, but also of his defined biceps by your head.

“Are you fishing for compliments, Rooster?” You glide your fingers along the crests of his ribs.

“I don’t mind getting my ego stroked every now and then.”

“What about other things?” you murmur, sliding your hand in between your bodies to grasp him through his boxer briefs.

He groans your name before claiming your mouth for a hot kiss.

“Come on, Bradley. I want the full experience,” you pant against his lips, “I heard how the girls talked about you.”

“I’ve learned a few more things since then,” he rasps, grinding himself more fully against you.

“Good, I’d hope so. Now, show me.”

Show me. Show me. Show me.

He can’t keep his mouth or hands in one place for too long. He wants to taste you everywhere. He wants to touch you everywhere.

You are looking at him with such open want. Your pupils blown wide, your lips kiss-swollen. He was unprepared for just how perfect your body would feel under his. You’re so beautiful spread out before him on his bed. Green might be his favorite color on you, he was biased, but you looked stunning pillowed against his navy duvet.

He had told you he’d give you anything you wanted and he meant it. If you wanted the full experience then he was going to give you the best damn time of your life.

Bradley licks his lips before lowering his head back down for a kiss, moaning at the slide of your wet, soft lips against his. He loves the sound your needy whine as you cant your hips against him.

You tilt your neck to the side giving him more room to get his mouth on the delicate column of your throat. The smell of your perfume and shampoo makes his blood thrum in his veins. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this desperate for someone in his life as he is for you.

He slips his hand around your ribcage and under you, groaning when your breasts rub against his chest as you arch into him. He runs his fingers along the band of your bra feeling for the little clasps that are preventing you from being bared before him.

After the third pass he makes, you pull away from his mouth with a little grin, “Bradley, it’s a front clasp”. Taking pity on him you guide his hand to the shiny little closure resting in the valley between your breasts.

He chuckles self-deprecatingly toying with it for a second before asking, “You mean to tell me this is both pretty and functional?”

Your giggle turns into a whimper when he flicks it open and pulls it off of you. Tossing it somewhere to be discovered later.

And then his is finally, finally getting to see you in the way he’s spent many nights with his hand wrapped around his cock imagining.

“How are you so soft everywhere?” he murmurs tracing a finger down your bare sternum. He rubs his mustache over the sensitive tips of your pebbled nipples before claiming one with his mouth.

Your hands fly to his hair as he sucks and teases this newly uncovered part of you. He moans as you start grinding against him in earnest before switching over to the other, his hand coming up to cup and squeeze the taut bud that was wet and shiny from his mouth.

The sounds you are making are nothing like he has ever heard from you before. And he can’t wait to spend hours with your body learning all the things that make you whimper and whine and sigh.

With one more flick of his tongue against your nipple, he trails hungry kisses down your neck. He stops once to admire the little freckle high on your right ribcage before continuing his way down your body. He likes how easily your legs fall open for him as he settles himself at the center of you. At how much trust you are handing over to him.

“You still doing good, sweet girl?” he asks into the crease of your thigh.

“So, so good,” you exhale roughly. One of your hands is skimming along the skin of his shoulders, your delicate finger stroking over the scar there. “Five-stars, Bradley. Easily.”

“Mm, you sure I deserve that? Haven’t done anything to earn it,” he hums, teasing kisses along the lace edge of your white panties. “Haven’t even made you come yet.”

“Bradley.”

“Can I take these off and make you come with my mouth?” He slides a finger under the elastic band. “Can I earn that five-stars?”

“Yes, yes,” you nod rapidly, “I want that.”

Bradley slides his thumbs under the sides of your perfectly practical panties and starts to pull the last of your clothing off. He’s dreamt about you naked and on display for him, he is eager to discover every freckle, every mole, every scar on you.

You are almost revealed to him when he stops. His eyes snag on a spot on the inside of your right hipbone. A tattoo.

The tattoo.

He remembers the night at the Hard Deck when he had learned about its existence with picture perfect clarity.

Fanboy had been showing off the fresh ink on his forearm for the full sleeve he was in the process of getting, which had then turned into display of skin as his friends pulled up and rolled up their clothes to share their own. It was probably for the best that he had an aversion to needles or else he probably could have ended up with some misspelled Latin phrase like Payback had along his forearm.

Just as Hangman had finished tugging his shirt back down, he had turned towards you at the tall stool you were sitting on and asked, “What about you, darlin’? Anything to share with the class?” 

There was gleam in his eye that Bradley had not appreciated in the slightest. Especially since he had made it perfectly clear that his best friend was off limits to the group of cocky aviators.

You had only relocated to San Diego a couple of months ago, and he hadn’t realized how much he had missed living in the same area as you. And you were already fitting in with everyone like you’d been there for years.

“Yeah, I’ve got one,” you shrugged taking a sip of your drink while he nearly choked on his.

“What? No, you don’t,” he asserted as he elbowed Hangman out of the spot he was leaning on next to you.

“Uh, yeah, I definitely do.”

He didn’t get why you were looking at him like he had a second head. You were his best friend, that’s something that definitely would have come up in conversation at some point if you did have one. Right?

“I’ve never seen one on you,” he’d said adamantly.

He eyes quickly traveled over your body, you were in some laidback loose-fitting jeans with rips in them and a creamy colored knit tank top, as he looked for any hint of ink on your skin.

“Well, you wouldn’t,” you said like the reason should be completely obvious to him.

You kicked out at him in annoyance. He caught your foot easily with his hand, and gave it a quick, sharp tug in warning. Smirking at you when you gasped and scrambled to hold onto the stool, “What does that mean?”

“It means it’s not for the viewing public, Rooster,” you huffed at him.

“Sounds like there’s a story here,” Nat interrupted, looking on with keen eyes.

Yanking your leg out of his hand, you went on to tell the story about how you had gotten it done one drunken night at a house party your junior year of college. A “silly, girly thing” was all you’d had to say about it.

“Sounds like you’re lucky you didn’t get hepatitis or a staph infection,” he grumbled. You took the beer out of his hand in retribution and claimed it as your own, while throwing him the middle finger as you took a swig. And he’d let you.

“If it makes you feel better, bird boy, the guy who gave it to me now works at a pretty popular tattoo shop in New York.”

It hadn’t and he never forgot about it.

There had been more than one occasion where he had caught himself looking at you a bit too closely in a swimsuit from behind his aviators at the beach trying to get a glimpse of it.

And now he finally knew.

His fingertips are drawn to the fine, dainty lines of the ink on your skin. The pair of delicate butterflies were placed discreetly on your lower pelvis. One looked like it was in mid-flight with its wings spread wide, while the other was waiting to take off and join it.

“These are pretty, they suit you,” he murmurs leaning in to touch his lips to them. “Definitely not for the viewing public.”

“Just you, Bradley,” you agreed, setting your hands on top of his where on your hips. And together you both work off that last bit of fabric off your body.

“God, you’re so beautiful. I don’t know how I got so lucky, sweet girl.” He kisses your pretty tattoo once more, then the spot below your bellybutton, the top of your pubic bone.

“You said you’d give me your mouth,” you whisper eagerly, your fingers carding through his hair. He loves the way your nails felt against his scalp.

“Whatever you want.” A reminder of the promise he had made to you in the hallway, before he even had you in his bed.

He inches himself even closer to your body, getting one of your legs over his shoulder, opening you to his hungry eyes. This part of you, just like your butterflies, was for his eyes and fingers and mouth alone.

He parts you with his tongue enjoying your little whimper and gives you a couple slow licks as he gets acquainted with your taste. He wants to savor you like a fine wine, to identify all the individual notes that made up the essence of you.

You’re already so wet for him.

And then he is exploring your pretty pussy with unrestrained enthusiasm. Using his tongue and lips to get you squirming before introducing his fingers. Your moans are better than any kind of music as he starts rubbing your clit with gentle precision.

His chest fills with smoky coils of masculine satisfaction as you prop yourself onto your elbows to get a better look at him as he works you with mouth. He holds your intense gaze when he slips one of his fingers inside the silky center of you.

Bradley can feel his heart beating in his throat as he watches your jaw drops in pleasure as you start to lose yourself to his mouth, “Tell me what you like.”

You’re so responsive to his touch. Your knee is trembling on his shoulder as he tries out long, smooth strokes and short, curling thrusts of his fingers determined to learn what makes your toes curl.

“I’ve never—,” you start before stopping, shaking your head.

“Never what, sweet girl?” he repeats, patiently looking up at you from between your legs. He is still circling your clit with his thumb as you work to find your words.

“I’ve never been able to come this way,” you confess like it’s something you’re embarrassed about. “But it feels really good. I just don’t want you to think I’m not enjoying this with you when I can’t get there.”

The burst of red-hot irritation that hits him like truck for all the men who have failed you in the past makes his jaw clench. Men who would prioritize their pleasure over yours.

He knows he is capable of getting you there. He wants to show you, to prove to you just exactly how capable he is about giving you the pleasure you deserve. It’s what he would give you every single time.

“Can I try?” Bradley waits until you nod your head yes, still propped up watching him. He places a kiss to your inner thigh in thanks for trusting him with this. “Tell me what makes you feel good,” he coaxes, “Tell me what you need from me.”

He’s tempted to suck hard enough to leave an indelible mark at the delicate skin of your perfect thigh. He wants you think about being back in his bed with him, when you’re at your apartment in your own bed. He just nips at the spot instead, before kissing it again.

“Can I give you another finger?” he asks.

“Please.” You whimper when runs his thumbnail across your clit before he gives you another one of his fingers.

“So polite,” he teases as he gets his mouth back on you. “I’ll give it to you right.” You clench against his fingers as they sweep against your front wall.

He is so hard, but all he can think about is how good you feel under his hands, under his mouth.

He is watching your face for every expression. He wants to know which motion of his fingers makes your breath catch in your throat. He wants to know what kind of touch makes your eyebrow pinch together and gasp.

Yes. There. More. Just like that.

It doesn’t take him long to get you writhing and keening for him as explores your body as you tell him exactly what you like.

“That, Bradley, that. Don’t stop, please.”

Your pupils are blown wide as you watch him tease his tongue against your clit with a pressure so gentle it makes your whole body shiver. He moans his contentment against your slick-shined center when you reach out to cup his jaw and stroke his cheek with your hand when he finds that spongey spot inside of you.

Your head falls back and you convulse spectacularly as you come with his tongue on you and his fingers in you. 

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he praises low and rough, “So fucking pretty when you come.”

Bradley hopes you can feel his grin against the soft skin of your thigh.

He lets you bask in the warm glow of your orgasm, all while his thumb keeps making the softest of circles against you, “Think you can do it again?”

Your heart is still beating erratically in your chest as you attempt to come down from your orgasm. You still can’t believe he made you come with his mouth in the first place, let alone that he thinks he can get you there again.  

And when he puts his hot mouth back on you, your arms give out and you fall back against his soft duvet, “Fuck, Bradley, oh my god.” The feel of his mustache against that sensitive part of you was overwhelming.

Bradley works you like he is trying to erase the memory of any man before him.

The only other sound in the room besides your breathy panting was the wet sounds your body was making as his fingers curled and thrust in and out of you. You’d be embarrassed by it if was anyone else other than Bradley.

Because he is the one making you feel this good.

The coiling sensation in your stomach was tightening with every lick and suck and flick of the tongue he used to bring you closer to the edge. You savored the burn in your hip flexors as his thick forearms held you open for his talented mouth.

“Sorry,” you gasp, unable to control the way your hips roll against his mouth.

“Don’t be. Do it again,” he rasps, gripping your thigh harder, “Use my mouth.”

He hums in satisfaction when you do it again, this time on purpose at his command. The vibrations against your clit reverberate through your whole body as you rock against his mouth and ride his fingers.

The woodsy smell of his bed, the sound of his voice and dirty praise, the feel of his body on yours was building you up much quicker than before. Your hands were fluttering everywhere. In his hair. On your breasts. Tangling in his sheets.

You are hyperaware of his every touch and it has you feeling high strung. You’re there teetering having been built up so stunningly. Your body is pulled taut like piano wires with unreleased pleasure that you just can’t seem to reach. 

One of his warm, comforting hands soothes up and down the side of your waist as you twitch and writhe beneath him.

“C’mon, kid. You’re there, I can feel it,” he says pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your tattoo before sealing his mouth over you again. “Want you to come for me.”

For him. For Bradley. You want to come for Bradley.

It is almost instinctual how your body responds when he laces the fingers of his free hand together with yours. You have been feeling so untethered in your own skin by the promise of another deliciously devastating orgasm. The squeeze of his hand is your gravity, anchoring you back in the moment with him

And he is holding more than your hand in his as you fly apart for him. He has your heart.

You can hear his gentle murmurs, but your brain can’t process anything other than a few choice words as he peppers kisses back up your body.

He leans over reaching for the forgotten half-full water glass on his nightstand, probably some misguided attempt to be courteous, but you need his mouth on yours right now. He makes a noise of surprise as you pull him to you, your mouth is already parted and ready to chase the taste of yourself off of his tongue.

It’s slow and languid and just what you need.

“I’ve never come so hard before,” you laugh pulling away from him after a few minutes, the endorphins hitting you hard. “You should lead with that. Bradley-Gives-Great-Head-Rooster-Bradshaw.”

His eyes glimmer with amusement, “I don’t think that would fit on a helmet, but you can introduce me that way if you want.” His voice is smug, but it’s his satisfied smirk that thrills you the most.

“Oh my god, you’re preening! You’re so pleased with yourself right now,” you giggle, your thumbs stroking over his mustache at the wetness still there.

“Damn right I am,” he rasps leaning in for another lingering kiss.

Bradley kisses you like a wildfire, all unrestrained heat. And you will happily burn for him. Under his touch you are regenerated, reenergized, revived.

“I want you,” you breathe into his neck, tugging on the band of his black boxer briefs. His body was already a visual treat and his heart even better, but you want to feel him against the center of you with nothing standing between your body and his.

You don’t want to want anymore, you want to know.

With your help, he pulls them down his strong thighs and off completely. You’re treated to the reminder of just how big he is, it would almost be intimidating if you weren’t so desperate for him.

You run your hand up and down the length of him. He was right that night on the phone, you’d need to use both hands next time.

Savoring the way he drops his head down and pants into your clavicle, the coarse hairs of his mustache rough on your skin in the best way. With your other hand, you play with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. His biceps quaking from where they’re rooted on his mattress next to your head.

You want to make him feel as good as you do.

“Can I go down on you?”

Your mouth would be the end of him.

“Next time,” he grunts out. He’s barely able to think with the way your hand is stroking his cock, let alone speak.

“Haven’t you thought about my mouth on you? Come on, Bradley,” you purr temptingly. You both know you’re not playing fair when you tighten your grip on him.

“Shit.” He’s breathing hard now. “Of course, I have. I thought about it this morning when I got myself off in the shower, sweet girl.”

He’s treated to both the sight of your dimples and the clever twist of your wrist at his confession. He knows you think you’re going to get your way, like you usually do, so he changes tactics, “I promise, the next round you can do whatever you want to me.”

“Already planning for round two, huh?”

“Yeah, kid,” he says hoarsely, “Did you think this was just going to be one and done?”

You collect some of the precum from the tip of his cock with your thumb and lick it off as you look up at him doe-eyed and innocent, “Well then, I hope you can keep up, Lieutenant.”

A feral groan rips from him and he drops his head down to yours feeding you his tongue. He dominates your mouth as he slides and swirls his against yours. You whimper prettily as both flavors melt across your tongue.

“Do you like the way we taste?” he rumbles, his voice like gravel.

Bradley doesn’t know how to interpret the sound you make or the way you choke out oh my god.

“Sorry, too much?” he asks raggedly, checking in. The last thing he wants to do is make you feel uncomfortable because he can’t stop from running his mouth.

“God, no. I’ve never been so turned on, Bradley,” you pant, as you rock your warm, wet pussy against him. “Don’t want you to hold back with me.”

You’re both naked and it’s no secret how this night is going to end. He loses himself to the feel of you as you roll your hips against him, whining every time the head of his cock connects with your swollen clit.

“Hold on, hold on,” he doesn’t know why he feels nervous bringing it up, but he needs too while he still has the brain function to talk about it. “I’ve got condoms. It’s been awhile for me, but I got a new box in my bathroom. I just need to go grab them.”

He moves to get up, but you tighten your hold on him.

“I’m on the pill. I, um, got back on it after our first date,” you say almost bashfully. “So if you wanted to go, ah, without it would be ok. I would be fine with it if you didn’t wear one. More than fine, actually.”

There’s something about your endearing self-conscious babbling that helps him get out of his head, “Can I tell you something?”

“Anything, always. You know that,” you tell him, nudging your nose against his.

“I haven’t done this without one before,” he admits.

And it’s clear from the way your eyebrows spring up that this surprises you, “Wait, never?”

“Never,” Bradley confirms. He brings your hand up to his chest so you can feel how fast his heart is beating.

While he’s had a couple serious girlfriends in the past, one didn’t like the way the pill made her feel and the other didn’t like the mess. It was never a big deal to him as long as everyone felt good. He liked that extra layer of protection, he never liked the idea of potentially getting someone pregnant and leaving them to care for his child when his job was so unpredictable.

And with one-night stands, the use of a condom was never even a question.

“So, I get to be your first?” A delighted grin overtakes your face, as you affectionately run you hand through his hair.

“If you want,” he offers softly.

“I want it to be me,” you say with such sincerity it makes his chest ache.

You pull him back down to you and wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him even closer to you. The two of you are a frenzy of wandering hands and teasing tongues and needy noises.

“How do you want me?” he asks, low and velvety.

“I’ve imagined everything,” you whisper, your thumb caressing the long scar from where your hands are cupped around the side of his neck. “But I want you like this, just like this.”

He has always been wrapped around your finger, but with your hand on his cock guiding him to the center of you, he is at your mercy.

You trusted Bradley to be gentle not only with your body, but also with your heart. You were safe in his stupidly big and unfairly perfect hands.

There’s no holding back the sharp inhale as his thick, flared tip enters you for the first time. He’s barely inside of you and the way he is filling you is nothing like you’ve ever experienced before.

The low whine he makes as he slides into you without anything in-between your bodies is the most erotic thing you’ve ever heard. You are impossibly wetter at the knowledge that you are the one to make him feel this good, that it’s your body he’s experiencing this with for the first time.

Your eyes flutter close at the sheer stretch of him as he presses further into you.

Slowly, gently, deliberately.

“No,” he roughly rasps, pausing half-way inside of you, “Look at me.”

His desperate tone sets off more goosebumps over your body. With no small effort on your part, you do as he wants.

He looks just as overwhelmed as you feel. The flush from his cheeks and neck has worked its way down his broad chest, there’s a sheen of sweat collecting in the hollow of his throat and you want to lick him there.

“Want you to keep your eyes on me.”

You fight the urge to squirm as he slowly serves you the rest of his cock. He’s intensely watching your reaction to every ridge, every vein, every thick inch of him as he makes encouraging circles with his thumbs over your hipbones.

If you were to close your eyes again, you know you’d be seeing stars. But how could you when he was looking at you with such wonder.

You are nearly undone by the sensation of being so entirely wanted and cherished and lo—

“Bradley,” you whimper, unguarded under his gaze.

Every emotion is pounding away inside of you, eager for its turn in the spotlight.

“I know, I know.” His voice is rough and wrecked.

You can feel what he really means. We’re right on time.

Your heart stumbles over itself when he tenderly kisses the damp skin of your temple when his hips finally, finally press against yours.

And for a moment you two just hold each other’s eyes as you get used to being connected with each other in the most intimate of ways.

Your mind was taking snapshots of everything, you didn’t want to forget a single moment of this. All these little details of him that belonged to you. The length of his eyelashes. The flush of his cheeks. The state of his pretty wavy hair made messy by your hands. The pinch of his brow. The exact shade of his whiskey brown eyes as he stared into your eyes.

It is almost too intimate the way he is looking at you when he starts moving above you. As he took in your every dewy blink, every hitch of your breath, every little sound you made. As he slowly, purposefully rolled his hips against yours.

That untethered feeling was settling over you again. “Bradley, need you to kiss me.” You feel his hands tighten on your waist. He was inside of you, but you needed him closer. “Please, please.”

His lips are on yours like a flash. “Anything,” he murmurs in between deep, thorough kisses. “Anything you want.” You take his tongue just like you take the rest of him.

You’re on the right side of too full and he is hot and heavy inside of you. It is dizzying being this stretched around him, this surrounded by him. You can feel everything. The orgasm that sneaks up on you is a silvery, shimmery thing that coasts over you like stardust.

“Fuck,” he groans as your pussy lightly flutters around him, slowing down his thrusts to draw it out for you.

You recover quickly, the sensation that swept over you was not nearly as intense as the ones that he gave you with his mouth and fingers, but no less satisfying.

“Of course, you’re good at this too,” you laugh breathily.

He huffs one of his own in response, his mouth pulling crookedly to the side, “I told you we’d be good together.” He props himself up higher with his forearms from where they were lovingly, protectively caged around your head, “You feelin’ good, sweet girl?”

“So good, it’s so good, Bradley.”

You can feel his grin when he makes your back arch from hitting you just right. Grasping onto his thick biceps, your fingers dig into the corded muscle there. All you can do is let the rhythm take the lead as he picks up the pace again.

It’s hard to draw a full breath. Whether from being so filled by him or from the pressure building in your chest you couldn’t say.

He is everywhere, but it still isn’t enough. You don’t know if you want more or you need less. If you need him to go slower or if it’s not fast enough. You’re so overwhelmed, it’s just so overwhelming how good he is making you feel.

“Bradley, I need, I need-” you can’t even finish your sentence before you’re making a noise of frustration.

“Shh, it’s ok. I got you, kid.” He tosses your legs over his shoulders and raises up to his knees. Lifting your hips up as he reaches over to grab a pillow and slides it underneath you.

Next powerful thrust of his hips has you feeling like you are going to vibrate out of your skin.

Bradley has always been a big fan of mutually assured orgasms, but he had no idea sex could be this good. He has never felt so in sync or connected like this with anyone else ever.

And the way you feel around him with nothing separating his body from yours was indescribable. Only you had the ability make him feel this good.

He wanted your heartbeat to syncopate to the syllables of his name like his did with yours.

“Fuck, fuck. That feels so good,” you stutter out. The new change of angle has you even tighter for him as the sounds of your bodies coming together fill the room. “B-bradley.” a thrust “Your pillow.” a grind “The mess.”

“Fuck the pillow, I’ll get a new one,” he grunts. He clearly isn’t doing his job if you’re concerned about something as inconsequential as some feathers surrounded by cotton.

And then his loses himself in your whimpers and whines and the feel of your perfect-for-him body. In the silky warmth of you. Of his hands on your waist, on your hips, on your ass.

He has to remind himself this is the first time of many. He’s been dying to have you in every way possible for weeks. He wants to know if you sound the same as you do right now beneath him or if your sweet noises changed whether you were above him or on your hands and knees in front of him.

He couldn’t wait to find out.

“You’re taking me so well,” he praises. You clench around him and his hips nearly falter in the slow, steady rhythm he has set, “Mm, of course you like a compliment.”

Bradley leans down to kiss you and you cry out at the change of position. Good girl. He teases his mustache down your neck, licking along the straining tendon of your neck. Pretty girl. And then he has he mouth on your breast again. Sweet girl.

The position is perfect for him to grind against your clit. The sounds of your soft sighs, of your breathy moans, and your shaky exhales as he hits that spot inside of you just right has him fighting the urge to chase his own release. And he can’t hold back his own sounds of satisfaction when your hot mouth trails along his collarbone, your tongue laving over that scar on his shoulder.

“I can feel you’re holding back,” you urge. “More, give me more.” One of your hands goes to his ass encouraging him to go faster.

“I’m trying to be romantic here,” he only partly teases, as he rolls his hips in that way he now knows makes you gasp.

“You are, you are,” you promise as you pet the side of his face. “But Bradley, I need you to romantically fuck me harder.”

Only you could make him laugh and make his cock stiffer all at the same time.

He’s never been one to deny you. He sits up on his knees again and flings one of your legs over the crook of his elbow, opening you up and giving him more room to give you just what you want.

“Look at you, I can’t believe you’re mine,” he groans. He can’t tear his eyes away from the way your tits bounce as he gives it to you harder, faster, deeper. “Touch yourself for me.” The only thing he can think about was getting you over the edge, so that he could follow you.

He nearly comes at the pretty sight of your fingers making rapid circles on your clit. His hips are rocking into yours roughly, and the way you are whimpering his name is ratcheting his need for you even higher.

Your mouth feels too far away, he wants to taste his name on your lips. He drops back down caging you in his arms. The two of you groan together, he’s much deeper this way. Your hands are fisted in his hair, pulling tightly at his curls as you sweep your tongue against his.

There’s no way he’s going to last with you gripping him like this. He can already feel the tension building in his spine. He knocks your hand out of the way as he takes over the ministrations on your clit, rubbing you there with tight circles.

“Bradley,” you gasp and writhe desperately against him. The way you chant his name sounds so breathy and perfect in his ear as he speeds up the motion of his fingers needing you to come undone.

And then he feels as you spasm and arch and come apart for him with his name on your lips.

bradleybradleybradley

The blood is buzzing in his veins and his breathing has gone entirely ragged as he continues to move in you until you go soft in his arms with a full-bodied sigh.

And then he gives into the desperate way his body needs yours as he chases his own climax.

He presses his face into the curve of your neck, mouthing at whatever skin he can reach as he comes. Nothing has ever felt so good to him as it does emptying himself inside of you, as he thrusts deeper into you as your body convulses around his. 

It’s an earth-shattering orgasm that takes and takes and takes.

You don’t know how long you and Bradley lay there tangled up in each other, all heated skin and rapid heartbeats. It’s the most you can do to run your hand through his damp hair from where his head is still tucked against your neck and up and down his muscular back.

He’s long since pulled out of you and you can feel him dripping out of you. But if Bradley isn’t worried about the mess, then neither are you.

You’re still getting use to the weight of him. Still getting use to the shape of your bodies pressed against each other in this way. But it’s better than you could have ever hoped for.

He’s better than you could have hoped for. In every way that mattered.

“So, same time, same place tomorrow?” you ask finding your voice first. You can feel his chuckle as he kisses your neck once, then twice before he pulls away to look at you.

His brown eyes are rimmed with hazel and crinkled around the edges. All the affection and happiness and familiarity evident on his flushed face.

And then he smiles at you. And you know you’re wearing a matching one.

And then you giggle. And he lets out a laugh as he reaches up to softly brush the sweaty strands of hair away from your face.

“You know what’s not fair?” He lets out a hmm of acknowledgement for you to continue as his thumb traces your cheekbone. “You’ve got all these nicknames for me, but I don’t have one for you. Should we try some on for size?” you croon against his ear. Feeling very pleased with yourself when the heavy hand resting on your hip tenses in response.

You kiss along his jaw. Honey. Over his cheek. Baby. On the corner of his perfect mouth. Sweetheart.

“Bradley,” he murmurs looking at you softly.

“Bradley?” You repeat it back to him. Not questioning, but there’s a curiosity there. You love the way he leans in into your touch as you comb your fingers through his waves.

He nods and you’re hit with a wave of affection for this man in your arms. Your Bradley.

“Ok, Bradley,” you say indulgently as you drop a lingering kiss to his lips. “I can work with that.”

And then you’re whispering his name and alternating kisses to his skin, his stomach tensing and flexing as you work your way down his body.

Not one to break his promises to you, he keeps to his word and lets you whatever you want. 

After you’ve gotten your way and after he’s gotten his again, you’re wrapped up in his strong arms tangled in his sheets. You’ve never been more satisfied in your life than you are with him here and now, warm and cared for.

You’re too contented in the blissful after you had been so needlessly worried about to fight sleep as it comes to claim you. 

Will you two stay intertwined like this all night? Or will he chase you across the bed like he has been chasing you in your dreams?

Snuggling in closer to Bradley, you think about how excited you are to wake up next to him in the morning. Knowing him, he will probably be up before you, hopefully waiting with a steaming cup of coffee for you.

With his soft breaths in your ear, you let yourself drift off to the sweet potential and possibilities of tomorrow. 

There’s so much to look forward to.

More of Bradley, more with Bradley. 

The two of you are perfectly and exactly on time.

This was written as the part of a series for characters in the “Like I Can” Universe. If you missed Part 1, you can read it here!

They’re right on time, and boy, was it worth the wait!

If you’re curious about what Bradley’s room looks like, you can check it out here! (I’ve updated it to include some headcanons)

I wrote this little series as a birthday gift to my favorite Taurus Moon twin @gretagerwigsmuse​! It only took a couple months, Jordan, but its the gift that keeps on giving!

You can read my other stories here!

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[tinydefector]

Do you think cybertronians ever get a bit freaked out on how tough we are? Yes they can break us like toothpicks but humans seem to be able to take a good beating as well with adrenaline helping. Even our own body and oxygen trys kills us and yet we stick around like roaches. We're fragile in some reasonable and dumb ways and then resilient in the most dumbest ways.

Oh definitely, alot of the bots are very off put by how fragile humans are just in general and tend to avoid them.

But then there's the moments like Ratchet working a late shift and a small knock on the door alerts him someone's there, he turns around expecting it to be Rodimus or Whirl who he's about to scold but instead it's one of the humans and they look worse for wear. After fussing over them for a moment, detailed scans relay fractured ribs, a broken collar bone, and a heap of bruises and yet the humans just like. "Can I have some Panadol, Nurophen, and a glass of water?" Because they don't know what else to do its what they would get. Most of the times they ended up in the hospital. Ratchet is losing his God dawn mind as he rushes around looking for the best painkillers he can find for orgaincs in the smallest dosage he can give, hoping to primus it doesn't shut their heart down. In the end, they end up on a medication that makes them extremely drowsy, almost like the green whistle/ Weed.

Ratchet ends up doing alot of study on the human body and realises just how fucked up little monsters we are. We literally need oxygen to survive but he we have to much pure oxygen it will kill us. Water, we need a certain amount of it, if we don't have enough we will get dehydrated and die, if we have to much we will get water poisoning, intoxication, or a disruption of brain function. This happens when there's too much water in our cells, such as the brain and blood cells, causing them to swell. When the cells in the brain swell, they cause pressure in the brain, resulting in death. The issue is that it can become an addiction to drinking too much water for the effect it has on the body. Same with nearly everything we consume, it can kill us, but we need a lot of it in moderation.

Human: "I just need some basic pain killers and a nap"

Bot: "No, you need full surgery, sedations, and 3 weeks of recovery!"

Human: "nah she'll be fine!"

Bot: "Absolutely Not, bed now before I cuff you"

____________

Following that imagine a first contact AU where Cybertronians and humans are just slowly getting to know how the other works and next thing a human is kneeling over in horrific pain and it send the bots all into panic mode trying to help them, wondering what's happening and thinking they are dying. And the human after about ten minutes some pain killers still looking rather pale and unhealthy just go. "Sorry about that fuck I hate, Cramps/palpitations/ phantom pains/ and such" and the bots are just looking at them horrified like.

Bot: NOT NORMAL!!!"

Human: what you talking about?

Bot: everything that just happened you literally just short circuited!

Human: nah that's causal wait till you see the really funky shit.

______________

Human pet AU

Cybertronian's keeping humans as pets is like humans keeping hamsters. Humans are some of the most homicidal, suicidal and just deranged creatures that Cybertronian's could keep as pets. It's gotten to the point that they are a luxury/ exotic pet because if you do not feed them the right stuff, give them the right amount of light and socialising, and they will just die. There are so many Cybertronian's who take their human into clinics worried as and its just the human being a little bustard because they didn't get the treat they wanted 2 weeks ago and are still holding that grudge. Not to mention, we are prone to causing as much trouble and issue. We are like cats.

But we are also very easily sick and primus forbid a human gets sick because to a bot they think it's a death sentence for their sweet little spitfire of a human who they have had now for ages. And the human looks ready to die, and the next day, they are up and about like nothing ever happened.

Human: if you don't feed me the meals I want I'm going to pretend to die. If you do feed me what I want I might actually die because I shouldn't be eating it.

Panicked bot: "MY HUMAN HAS GOTTEN SICK. HELP!?!"

Human: totally worth it.

_________

In conclusion, the cybertronians are rather wary/ concerned about how resilient humans really are.

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[ohnoitstbskyen]

What’s the difference between Ascended, Aspects, Freljordian demigods, Aurelian Sol, and whatever Soraka’s got going on? Are they all just different varieties of League gods?

Hoo boy, okay, so. First of all, Riot have been pretty adamant that there are no gods in Runeterra, every god-like being that exists in that universe is actually a spirit or just a very powerful being of some kind, but definitely no real gods, no matter how much it seems like they are definitely writing these characters to be actual literal gods.

I don't 100% know why they are so insistent on this, but I imagine it has something to do with censorship and ratings agencies, or maybe they just don't want to have to establish any actual theology on Runeterra. Volibear isn't the god of storms for real, he's just a super powerful spirit that can create storms in the Freljord, but not all of them, so please don't ask us whether every single thunderstorm in the Freljord was something he did deliberately. That sort of vibe.

To go through them point by point:

Celestials & Aspects

The Celestials are beings like Aurelion Sol and Bard, which exist as cosmic entities operating on levels of power and motivation beyond human understanding. They came into existence with the universe itself, and tend to busy themselves governing various parts of its operation. They are, again not gods (Riot is very insistent on this), but Aurelion Sol literally made every star in the galaxy, he's functionally the progenitor god of Creation.

Some of them, though, like to interfere in the mortal world of Runetera in various ways, and they tend to use mortal vessels to do it. That's where we get Aspects: Aspects are mortals who are chosen by the Celestials that live on Mount Targon to contain their power and be their avatars in the mortal world.

Leona is the Aspect of a Sun celestial, Diana of the Moon celestial, Pantheon is the Aspect of War (or he was, until Aatrox killed it, but he retains access to many of its powers), and Zoe is the Aspect of Twilight, and so on.

Soraka is another Celestial in mortal form, but she is NOT an Ascended. Rather than possess a mortal, she created a mortal body for herself and poured the whole of her being into it, which is causing her body to permanently burn up from the inside while she regenerates it with her magic. She lives on Runeterra and acts as a mysterious mystical wise guide and mentor to mortals who need it.

Ascended & Darkin

Ascended are somewhat similar in kind to the Aspects, but usually lesser in power. The Ascended are also human beings infused with Celestial magic and power, specifically with the power of the Sun, although as far as I know, that power is drawn not from the Celestial of the Sun who empowers Leona, but directly from the physical Sun itself. This means the Ascended aren't possessed by Celestials and retain full free will, at the cost (or let's be real: benefit) of being transformed into furries, which extremely coincidentally just so happen to closely resemble the gods of the Egyptian pantheon. but again, they are definitely not gods, please don't put it in the newspaper that they are gods.

I don't know exactly how canon Riot considers this anymore, but the lore was that the Aspects of Mount Targon gifted the power of Ascension to Shurima in order to produce Ascended that could serve as shock-troops in the war against the Void, which is a swarm of extradimensional horrors that are constantly trying to eat the world. Whatever the case, the Ascended DID fight the Void, and it traumatized and corrupted them so badly that they degenerated into body-horror blood monsters called the Darkin.

The Darkin fell into civil war and it got so bad that The Aspect of Twilight (not Zoe but her predecessor in the role) decided to use some magical trickery to imprison them all in their weapons, which is where they've stayed for a few thousand years, getting even more traumatized and mentally destabilized by the total sensory deprivation and solitary confinement. If any mortal touches a Darkin weapon, it immediately assimilates them and uses their flesh as a new host, and then goes on a killing rampage about it. That's where you get your Aatrox, your Varus and (eventually, once he devours Kayn) your Rhaast.

Gods, Spirits & Demons

This is the category for Ornn, Anivia, Volibear, The Seal Sister and so on. The Freljordian people worship them as gods, but they are, technically, only extremely powerful nature spirits, manifestations of the nature of the Freljord itself, which draw power from the land and to a lesser extent from their worshipers. There are many, many lesser nature spirits, which might be worshiped as gods by particular tribes or hold power over particular areas, but Ornn, Anivia, Volibear, The Seal Sister and the Iron Boar are the most powerful and most widely revered.

On a similar note, Ionia is absolutely choked to the gills with spirits, because those lands are soaked in magic. They are usually not worshiped as gods specifically, but take the shape of everything from dragons to living trees to sprites and will-o-wisps and which roam fairly freely in Ionia. This includes characters like Lillia, who is the daughter of a magical tree of dreams on whose branches the dreams of mortals grow and mature, and it includes Ivern, who is an extremely powerful and ancient nature spirit formed from the soul of a magical tree.

Demons are distinct from spirits, in that rather than drawing on the power of the land or fountains of magic, they draw on the emotions of living things for their powers. The most powerful demons are known as The Ten, who get their power from the most primal emotions that living things feel. Fiddlesticks is the demon of Fear, and Nilah somehow draws her strength from Ashlesh, the Demon of Joy, whom her order has imprisoned. We don't know who the rest of the Ten are yet, but Riot seems to have that worked out somewhere in their internal deep lore.

Swain has a lesser (but still powerful) demon of secrets called Raum bound in his arm through some sort of deal, Evelynn is a demon of anguish and pain, Tahm Kench is a demon of addiction, and Nocturne is a demon of nightmares.

Besides those, there are an untold number of lesser demons, who feed on more and more specific feelings, and thus are less and less powerful because there's simply less of that stuff around to feed on. They are often called Azakana, and may be demons that feed on feelings as niche as, like, noblemen's fear of their extramarital affairs with handsome commoners being discovered. Yone hunts the Azakana and collects their mask, although even he doesn't know quite what for.

Death

This is where we place the Kindred. Technically they are merely Spirits of Death, but more than perhaps any other category of creature, Riot keeps writing them as Literal Gods of death and I don't think it makes sense to think of them any other way.

The Kindred take on many different shapes all across Runeterra, seemingly influenced in large part by the expectations of the people or creatures who are dying, but their most popular visage is that of a Lamb and a Wolf, hunting together. Lamb's merciful arrow ends your life if you accept that your time is up and go gently into that good night, but Wolf hunts you down and rips you to shreds if you resist and fight to your last breath, destiny be damned.

The Kindred are there for every death on Runeterra, they are the mediators (as far as we know) of all forms of death everywhere, and by far the most classically "anthropomorphic embodiment of universal existence" style god in the lore that we know of. Where a god like Anivia only really has power in the Freljord, the Kindred have power everywhere there is life. Only the undead escape them, and even then, only temporarily.

In Conclusion

YES Runeterra has tons of gods, it obviously has gods, you can't walk five feet in that universe without tripping on a god, but they tend to be gods with hard limitations on their power and influence, and rarely have powers on the level of bending reality itself.

Even Aurelion Sol, who literally makes stars, can't snap his fingers and undo causality, for example, or suspend the laws of physics wholesale.

Riot's weird insistence on "no gods in Runeterra" is more of an affectation, a bit of a put-on, than an actual narrative principle, and most of the gods of Runeterra can be understood very comfortably through the lens of various non-Christian religions like Norse or Greek mythology, or the hero/god characters of something like Polynesian myth.

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