#I will one day go back and clean all of these up | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aspenmissing · 3 days ago

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ᴀʀᴄᴀɴᴇ: ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ-ɪꜱʜ

6419 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɪɴꜰᴇʀᴛɪʟɪᴛʏ (ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ). ꜱᴛʀᴜɢɢʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴛ (ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴅᴇᴀ ᴏꜰ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ ʜᴀꜱ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ꜱᴛᴏᴘ, ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ɪᴅᴇᴀ ᴄᴏᴍᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴛʀᴜᴛʜ.

JAYCE

It had been a week or two since Y/N first realized she was pregnant. The realization had come as a shock, and though she'd kept it a secret, she had no idea how to tell Jayce. He had been busy with his work, his duties at the academy, and everything in Piltover that required his attention. She had just been trying to find the right moment, but it was harder than she'd anticipated. The news was life-changing, and she didn't want to burden him, even though she knew deep down that he would support her no matter what.

That morning, Y/N had run errands while Jayce stayed at home, catching up on his own work. As always, he had a few things to tidy up around the house — a rare moment where he was actually in their shared space, instead of off in his lab or at the academy. While sorting through some boxes under the bed that hadn't been touched in ages, Jayce kicked one of them over in an attempt to make space. It was one of those old cardboard boxes that Y/N had shoved there on a particularly busy day, not realizing what it contained.

Curious, Jayce pulled the box out from under the bed, his brow furrowing in confusion as he cracked it open. Inside, amidst old papers and forgotten mementos, were the unmistakable signs of something he hadn't expected — a pregnancy test, along with a paper that confirmed the news. Jayce's breath hitched as he stared at the test, eyes scanning the familiar words that he hadn't yet fully processed. The letter was clear, a confirmation that Y/N was indeed pregnant.

His heart raced, and for a long moment, he was paralyzed by the enormity of the situation. How long had she known? Why hadn't she told him? He couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for not noticing, for not being more aware of what was happening. He had always considered himself a protector, a supporter, but now he felt as though he was falling short.

As he sat there holding the pregnancy test in his hand, he heard the sound of the door opening downstairs. Y/N’s voice floated up the stairs, and Jayce quickly placed the test back in the box, not wanting to overwhelm her.

Y/N walked in, her usual warm smile fading a little when she saw the tense look on his face. “Jayce?” she asked, her tone uncertain as she approached the bedroom door.

He was sitting on the bed, the box still resting beside him. “Y/N,” he began, his voice soft but full of emotion. “We need to talk.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She had no idea what was going on, but she could feel the weight in his words. She closed the door behind her, stepping into the room, her eyes glancing at the box on the bed. “What’s going on?” she asked, her voice a little shakier than usual.

Jayce took a deep breath, looking up at her. The look in his eyes was a mixture of love, concern, and something else — something unspoken. He gestured to the box. “I found this... while I was cleaning.”

Y/N’s face turned pale as her gaze followed his hand to the box, and she instinctively felt her stomach churn. She knew what was coming. She hadn't expected him to find out like this.

She swallowed hard, gathering the courage to speak. “Jayce, I... I wanted to tell you,” she began, stepping closer, “but I wasn’t sure how. I didn’t know if it was the right time, and—”

“Y/N…” Jayce interrupted softly, his voice trembling slightly. He stood up and took a step toward her, gently placing his hands on her arms. “You’re pregnant.”

Y/N’s lips trembled as she nodded, feeling a lump rise in her throat. “Yes,” she whispered, her eyes filled with both fear and hope. “I found out a couple of weeks ago. But I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Jayce stared at her for a moment, the reality of it all sinking in. Then, without warning, he pulled her into a tight embrace. His arms wrapped around her like a protective shield, and he kissed the top of her head gently. “I’m sorry I didn’t know sooner. I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “But you don’t have to worry, Y/N. We’re in this together.”

Y/N blinked back tears, her arms wrapping around him in return. She had been so afraid that he wouldn’t be happy, that he wouldn’t understand. But his response was more than she had hoped for.

“I’ve just been... so scared,” she admitted, her voice muffled against his chest. “I didn’t want to burden you. You’ve already got so much going on with everything in Piltover. And I didn’t know if I was ready for this... for a baby.”

Jayce pulled back slightly to look at her, his hands gently cupping her face. His eyes were filled with nothing but reassurance and love. “We’ll figure it out, Y/N. Together. There’s no perfect time for this, but I know one thing — I want to be here for you, and for our baby. And we’ll make this work.”

Y/N couldn’t help but let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. Her heart was lighter now, the weight of her fears melting away in the warmth of his embrace.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

Jayce smiled down at her, his hands still gently holding her face. “You never have to thank me for this, Y/N. We’re in this together — all three of us.”

And in that moment, as the two of them stood together, embracing the new chapter in their lives, Jayce knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them as a family.

VIKTOR

It had been a few months since Viktor and Y/N had that heart-to-heart conversation. It was one of those difficult talks, where emotions were laid bare, raw, and vulnerable. Viktor, ever the stoic, had admitted his deepest fears—his illness, the mutations, and the possibility of passing it on to any future children. Y/N had been hurt at first, but understanding. She supported him fully, respecting his concerns, even though a small part of her longed for the family they could have had together. She never pushed him, knowing how deeply his fears ran.

But Viktor could see how much it pained her. He noticed the quiet longing in her eyes, the way she would sometimes linger on children in the streets of Piltover when they passed by. It tore at him, but he couldn’t shake the dread of what his illness could mean for their future. It was one of those battles inside him that he couldn't win, no matter how hard he tried.

Today, however, Viktor decided to take a short walk. It wasn’t about escaping the conversation—it was more to clear his head. The streets of Piltover were bustling with the usual activity, the gleaming buildings towering above him as the cool air filled his lungs. He walked with a slight limp, the click of his cane echoing in the otherwise busy street, but it was nothing Viktor wasn’t used to. The cane was a constant companion, the reminder of both his strength and his vulnerability.

As he passed a park, he spotted a young boy struggling to tie his shoe laces. The child was hunched over, a prosthetic limb attached to his left leg. The boy’s hands were shaking slightly as he fumbled with the laces, frustration evident on his face. Viktor slowed his pace, watching from a distance. He expected someone to approach the boy, maybe offer some help. But no one did. The people walking past just ignored the boy, too focused on their own lives to stop and lend a hand.

Viktor hesitated, his heart tightening at the sight. He knew all too well what it felt like to be overlooked, to be seen as different or fragile. But there was something in the way the boy carried himself—something in his attitude—that caught Viktor off guard. The boy was struggling, yes, but he wasn’t defeated. His face was determined as he attempted again to tie his laces, gritting his teeth but never backing down. Viktor waited, thinking that maybe the boy’s perseverance would inspire someone else to step forward. But when no one did, Viktor sighed and made his way over.

“Need some help?” Viktor asked softly, his voice gentle, yet there was a certain steadiness in it.

The boy looked up at him, startled but not fearful. His eyes scanned Viktor’s cane before meeting his face. “I got it,” the boy replied confidently, his lips curling into a small grin. “I just need to focus. It’s not so hard, you know?”

Viktor tilted his head, surprised by the boy’s confidence. “No one should have to do everything alone,” Viktor said, taking a step closer. “Sometimes, we all need a little help.”

The boy paused, then nodded, his hands still trembling a little as he finished tying his shoes. “Yeah,” he said, his eyes meeting Viktor’s again. “But it’s not about letting it stop you, right? It’s a hurdle. A hard one, but not impossible.”

Viktor’s heart fluttered at the boy’s words. There was something about the way he viewed his disability—not as a burden, but simply another challenge to overcome—that struck Viktor deep. It was a perspective Viktor hadn’t considered in a long time. For so long, Viktor had feared passing on his illness, his disability, to a child of his own. He had worried that they would see it as something to be pitied, something to be feared. But this boy—this child—had a strength that Viktor hadn’t realized children could have.

“I think you’re right,” Viktor said quietly. “A hurdle is just something to jump over.” He smiled gently at the boy, feeling a shift inside him, a sense of peace that he hadn’t expected.

The boy beamed up at him, clearly proud of his accomplishment. “Exactly! You just have to keep trying, even if it takes a few tries.”

Viktor chuckled softly, his mind racing. For the first time in months, the dread he had carried about his own illness, and what it might mean for a child, started to fade. He realized that with Y/N’s love, with his own understanding and strength, their child could grow up just like this boy—confident, determined, and ready to face whatever life threw their way.

The realization struck him like a wave, and Viktor suddenly felt lighter than he had in a long time. Maybe having a child wasn’t about protecting them from every hardship; maybe it was about teaching them how to face those challenges with grace and strength.

He turned, making his way back home, the cane tapping steadily against the cobblestones as he thought about the future. His steps felt more purposeful now.

When Viktor arrived home, Y/N was sitting on the couch, flipping through a book. She looked up at him with a smile, her warmth filling the room. “Hey, you’re back early,” she said, setting the book down and patting the space next to her on the couch.

Viktor stood still for a moment, staring at the floor, his hand resting on his cane. “Y/N,” he began, his voice steady but softer than usual. “I’ve been thinking a lot about our conversation from before. About… the future.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, the same knot of worry tightening in her chest. “Viktor, you don’t have to—”

Viktor cut her off, holding up a hand. “I’m ready to try, Lásko. I’m ready to start a family with you.” (Love)

Y/N blinked, her breath catching in her throat. Her mind spun, processing his words. She wasn’t sure if she’d heard him correctly. “You… you mean it?” Her voice was trembling, full of disbelief and hope.

Viktor’s gaze softened, and he took a slow step toward her. “I’ve seen something today. A boy with the same struggles as me, but he didn’t see it as a burden. He saw it as just another hurdle to overcome. And I realized… our child won’t see it as a curse. With our love, they’ll know how to overcome whatever life gives them. I believe in us."

Tears welled in Y/N’s eyes as she stood up quickly, her breath hitching in her throat. She rushed toward him, wrapping her arms tightly around his chest. “Oh, Viktor,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Viktor gently placed his cane aside, his arms wrapping around her in return, holding her close. He could feel the weight of the moment, the weight of their decision, and for the first time in a long while, Viktor felt something he hadn’t expected: hope.

Together, they would face the future—one step at a time, just like the boy had shown him.

JAYVIK

The topic of motherhood had always been a sensitive one for Y/N. She had come to terms with her infertility a long time ago, but that didn’t make it any easier to talk about. She hadn’t discussed it much with Jayce or Viktor; it was a topic that hung between them, unspoken, but understood. It wasn’t that she didn’t want children—it was more that she had accepted that being a mother wasn’t in her future. And though she had come to terms with it privately, it didn’t mean the idea of motherhood didn’t tug at her heart from time to time.

Jayce and Viktor knew about her infertility. They had been with her through the difficult conversations, through the quiet moments when she wrestled with her feelings. Both of them had been understanding, supportive, and kind, but Y/N couldn’t help but feel the emptiness at times, especially when the idea of raising a child came up. She had always dreamt of motherhood, of nurturing a little one, but the reality was different. Still, she cherished the love and connection she had with Jayce and Viktor, and that was enough—for now.

One crisp afternoon in Piltover, Y/N found herself walking through the busy streets of the Upper City, a faint breeze carrying the scent of fresh bread and the hum of city life. The grandeur of Piltover was on full display—high towers, merchants selling their wares, and children playing in the streets—but amidst it all, something caught her eye.

Two children, a boy around twelve and a girl of about seven, were weaving through the crowd with startling agility. The younger girl, bubbly and chatty, kept the attention of an unsuspecting shopper while the older boy, quick as a flash, swiped a few coins from the merchant’s stall. Y/N watched, intrigued, as the boy casually stashed the pilfered goods in his coat and slipped away, with the little girl trailing behind him, never once looking guilty.

Y/N’s lips quirked into a smile, admiring their street-smart energy. They moved with the kind of confidence that could only come from years of surviving the rougher edges of the world. It was clear they were looking out for each other, and despite what they were doing, there was something endearing about their partnership. The older boy’s protective nature over the younger girl, his quick thinking, and her carefree chatter—they made quite the team.

She decided to follow them from a distance, curious to see where they were headed. After a few turns and alleyways, they eventually reached a small abandoned building, a makeshift hideout. Y/N hesitated, watching them settle in, clearly alone—no parents, no guardians, just the two of them.

The boy caught her gaze as she stood at a distance. He narrowed his eyes, clearly cautious but not immediately hostile.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice gruff, but his stance more defensive than angry.

Y/N took a few steps closer, raising her hands in a peaceful gesture. “I just wanted to see how you two were doing. I noticed your, uh, skills in the marketplace.”

The girl, who had been picking at something in her hand, looked up with wide eyes and shyly glanced at Y/N. She fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve before speaking in a soft, hesitant voice. “We’re just trying to get by,” she murmured, clearly a little nervous about the encounter, but still unbothered by their situation.

The boy shot her a quick glance, before looking back at Y/N. “We don’t need any help. We’re fine.”

Y/N smiled softly, kneeling to their level. “I’m not here to force anything. I’m just offering food."

The two children exchanged a glance, and after a few moments of hesitation, the boy finally nodded. “Food’s always good.”

Without another word, Y/N reached into her bag and pulled out a couple of loaves of bread, some fruit, and a few slices of cheese. The children devoured the food quickly, barely speaking between bites. It was clear they were used to going without, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy.

Over the next few weeks, Y/N found herself coming back to the children regularly. She would bring them food, warm clothes, and the occasional book. Gradually, their wariness of her faded, though they never fully let their guard down. They had learned to survive on their own, and trust wasn’t something they gave easily. But over time, Y/N became more than just a stranger—she became a quiet presence in their lives, offering what little comfort she could.

Y/N knew Piltover was a city of opportunity, but it wasn’t always kind to the ones who didn’t have a place to fit in. The children reminded her of that—young, alone, and scraping by on whatever they could get.

One day, after a particularly long day in the markets, Y/N found herself thinking more about the two kids. There had to be a way to help them—Piltover had more to offer, and they deserved better than a life of pickpocketing and hiding out in abandoned buildings.

The next time she came to visit, she made a decision. She would take them back to her home, introduce them to Jayce and Viktor, and see if they could help these kids build something better for themselves.

When Y/N walked into the study later that afternoon, she was followed by the two children, who were a little more apprehensive than usual but still carrying themselves with a quiet sense of pride.

“Jayce, Viktor,” Y/N called out as she stepped inside, smiling warmly at the two men. “I’d like you to meet Mia,” she said, gesturing to the younger girl, “and Luka,” she nodded at the older boy. “They’ve been on their own for a while. I’ve been bringing them food and making sure they’re alright, but I think Piltover might be the place for them.”

Jayce and Viktor looked up from their work, both of them pausing as they sized up the two children. Viktor raised an eyebrow, his analytical gaze taking in the situation, while Jayce’s face softened with concern.

“They’ve been through a lot,” Jayce commented, his voice gentle.

Y/N nodded. “They’ve got a lot of potential. They just need a little guidance. I think, with some help, they could really thrive here.”

Viktor stood from his chair, walking toward the children. He regarded them for a moment before speaking. “You’ve been through more than most adults would care to face. But if you’re willing to learn, Piltover has room for you.”

Luka, who had been silently observing, finally spoke up. “And if we don’t want to?” he asked, his voice filled with defiance but not hostility.

Y/N crouched down to meet his eyes. “You’ll always have a choice. But I’m offering you a chance to build something better. Not for me, but for yourselves.”

Jayce offered his hand to Luka, who looked at it for a long moment before taking it, Mia following suit, though she was still a bit shy. Their hands were small, but their grip was firm, as if they were already beginning to understand the power of what they were being offered.

As Y/N stood back up, a sense of fulfillment washed over her. She had always wondered what motherhood might feel like, but now she understood—family wasn’t just about blood. It was about love, care, and making space for those who needed it most.

In that moment, with Jayce and Viktor by her side, she felt like they were building something together—something more than just a future for them, but for these children, too. And for the first time in a long while, she believed that family, in all its forms, was within reach.

VANDER

The past few months had been an emotional rollercoaster for Y/N and Vander. It was a topic that weighed heavily on both of them—one they had discussed openly and at length. The decision had been made to try for a child, but time and again, they found themselves coming up empty. The disappointment stung harder with each failed attempt, and each time, it seemed to take more from Y/N than she was willing to admit.

Vander, ever the strong and steady presence in their home, tried to offer comfort, his hand on her back or holding hers tightly in quiet moments, but even his unwavering support couldn't quell the sadness that began to weigh heavily on her heart. With each passing try, Y/N found herself retreating further into herself. She hated feeling this way, especially when there were so many children who needed love and care, but the dream of having their own kept lingering.

Vi and Claggor, of course, understood more than Y/N often gave them credit for. They had seen the way she had been quietly grieving, though she tried to hide it. It was clear that Y/N and Vander had wanted this, and though the children were young and maybe couldn’t fully comprehend the specifics, they could sense the tension.

Mylo, ever the oblivious one, simply couldn’t understand why Y/N seemed so upset. “Why’s she so sad, Vander?” Mylo asked one day, genuinely perplexed.

Vander paused for a moment, his heart aching as he looked down at his son. He knew Mylo wasn’t trying to be insensitive—he was just a child. "Sometimes, Mylo," he began softly, kneeling down to meet his son's eyes, "people want something that they can’t have, and it makes them sad."

"But she’s not sad because of us, is she?" Mylo asked, brows furrowed, still trying to wrap his head around it.

Vander smiled gently, his expression a mix of warmth and sadness. “No, son. Never because of you."

Meanwhile, Powder, ever the innocent and curious soul, had started to pick up on the shift in Y/N’s mood. She noticed how her mother figure’s smiles seemed more forced lately, how she spent more time staring out the window, looking distant. One afternoon, as Vander was sitting by the fire, Powder shuffled over to him, her small brow furrowed in concern.

“Vander,” she began, her voice small and unsure, “why is mama so sad all the time?”

Vander’s heart twisted at the question. He had been doing his best to shield the children from the weight of the situation, but Powder’s innocence had a way of cutting straight to the heart of things. He looked down at her, trying to find the right words.

“Well, Powder,” Vander started, his voice soft and steady, “sometimes people feel sad because they’re hoping for something, and it doesn’t happen the way they want it to.”

Powder tilted her head, trying to understand. “Is it because of us?” she asked, her voice tinged with worry. “Did we do something wrong?”

Vander quickly shook his head, his hand gently resting on her shoulder. “No, sweetheart. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just that sometimes, things take time. And sometimes, people just need a little while to feel better.”

Powder nodded slowly, not fully understanding but still trusting Vander’s words. She looked up at him, her big eyes filled with concern for the woman she loved so much. “Will she be okay?” she asked quietly.

Vander smiled gently, his heart aching for her innocence. “She’ll be okay, Powder. We’ll make sure of it.”

Powder stood there for a moment, her gaze lingering on the doorway where Y/N had been standing earlier. Then, as if an idea suddenly struck her, she reached up and hugged Vander tightly, her tiny arms wrapping around him with all the love she could give.

Vander held her close, feeling the weight of his own heart as he promised silently that he would do everything in his power to make sure Y/N found happiness again.

And then, the fifth time came.

Y/N had reached a place of quiet acceptance. After their last attempt, she and Vander had finally come to terms with what life had given them. They still had each other, and their love for the children they already cared for was enough to fill their hearts. They had made the choice to focus their love on the kids they had—Vi, Claggor, Mylo, and Powder—and make sure they had everything they needed. It was a quiet but powerful decision, one that gave them peace.

But life, as it often did, surprised them.

It was early one morning when Y/N felt the familiar nausea creeping up her throat. She dismissed it at first, thinking it was just another random bout of illness, but as the morning went on, it became harder to ignore. She ran to the bathroom, her heart pounding in her chest, and the moment she stood over the sink, she knew.

After taking the test, she sat on the edge of the tub, staring at the results in shock. It wasn’t just a glimmer of hope—it was real. The small blue line on the stick confirmed it. She was pregnant.

Her hands trembled as she stood up, the test still in her hand. She didn’t know how long she stood there, the weight of it sinking in, but eventually, she walked slowly to where Vander was, a mixture of disbelief and joy written all over her face.

"Vander," she called softly, her voice catching in her throat.

He turned from the window where he’d been looking out, the soft morning light playing across his face. He saw the look on her face and immediately felt a wave of concern rush through him. “Love? What is it?”

She didn’t say anything at first. Instead, she handed him the test, her eyes wide and hopeful.

Vander looked at it, his hands steady as he examined it, then slowly looked up at Y/N. His expression softened, a mixture of shock and something deeper in his gaze. “Are you... are you sure?”

Y/N smiled, a tear slipping down her cheek as she nodded. "Yes. I’m sure."

And in that moment, everything changed.

Vander crossed the room, his arms enveloping her in a tight embrace. “I’m so happy,” he whispered, his voice full of emotion. “We’re going to be parents again. I didn’t think it was ever going to happen...”

Y/N hugged him back, her chest tight with the overwhelming sense of joy and relief. “Neither did I,” she admitted, her voice thick with emotion. “But we’re going to be okay.”

Later that day, when the children came running into the room to greet their parents, they immediately sensed the change in the air. Vi looked at Y/N with a knowing expression, her arms open wide for a hug, while Claggor stood beside her, looking up curiously at Vander. Powder beamed, as if she somehow already knew what had happened.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Vi asked, her voice gentle. She could see the shift in her mother’s demeanour. Y/N just nodded, tears brimming in her eyes as she smiled.

“I’m more than okay, Vi,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "We’re going to have a baby."

Claggor’s eyes widened, and Mylo jumped up and down, excitedly. “A baby! That’s awesome!”

Vander looked down at Powder, who was staring up at him with wide eyes. She grinned, her excitement uncontainable. “Does this mean I’m going to have a little brother or sister?” she asked.

Y/N laughed softly, wiping away a tear. “Yes, Powder. You are.”

As Vander and Y/N exchanged a soft smile, surrounded by their children, a new chapter began for their family. One filled with hope, love, and the promise of a future that was theirs to shape. It wasn’t just the start of their journey into parenthood—it was the beginning of something even bigger. Something they had built together, with the love and strength of their family.

SILCO / JINX

The dimly lit office felt unusually still as you walked in, your footsteps echoing softly against the cold stone floor. The weight of the pregnancy test in your hand felt heavier with every step you took toward Silco’s desk. You placed it down gently in front of him, your fingers lingering on the edge as if unsure how to break the silence that stretched between you.

Silco was sitting in his usual spot, his gaze fixed on the papers before him. His sharp eyes flickered up at the sound of the test being placed on the desk, and for a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath. He didn’t need to ask what it was. His expression shifted, unreadable, as he slowly reached forward and picked it up, his fingers brushing against the plastic.

You stood still, your stomach tied in knots, watching him closely. Silco’s gaze was locked on the test, his lips pressed together as he processed the moment, his usual calm and control slipping into something else—a flicker of uncertainty that he quickly masked.

"Pregnant?" His voice was steady, though there was a sharpness beneath it, a controlled tension that spoke to the gravity of the situation.

You nodded, swallowing hard as you spoke, your voice quiet but firm. "Yes."

The silence stretched again, heavy, filled with the weight of his thoughts. He placed the test back on the desk, his eyes not leaving it as if trying to make sense of the new reality that had just been dropped before him.

"I wasn’t expecting this," he finally said, his voice still calm, though there was an undercurrent of something deeper. "This changes everything."

You could feel your pulse quicken as you shifted, unsure of what to say next. "I didn’t expect it either," you admitted softly, your gaze dropping to the floor. "I don’t know what to do, Silco. Can we even give them a life here in Zaun? Can I even give them a life with everything we’ve built?"

For a long moment, Silco remained silent, his eyes moving from the test to you. He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest, his posture thoughtful yet still unreadable.

"You know how I feel about children," he said, his tone quieter than usual. "They’re a vulnerability, a weakness. I never planned for this."

You hesitated, the uncertainty of your own feelings reflected in your voice. "I used to think I didn’t want children either," you confessed, your fingers nervously tracing the edge of the desk. "I thought it wasn’t in me. But... I think maybe it’s different now."

Silco studied you in silence, his gaze unwavering. His features softened slightly as he absorbed your words. "If this is something you want, if you think it’s right, then I won’t stand in your way. We’ll figure it out." He sighed deeply, his voice steady, though there was something almost compassionate in it that you rarely heard. "But we both know the risks. How easily everything could change."

You nodded, the weight of the decision pressing heavily on your chest. "I know. I just don’t know what it would look like... how it would change things between us."

His expression softened further, and he leaned forward, his eyes meeting yours with an understanding that made your heart skip a beat. "We don’t have to figure it all out now. Whatever you decide, I’m with you. We’ll face it together."

The words lingered in the air, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a sense of certainty. The future, though uncertain, didn’t seem as daunting with him by your side.

The air between you and Silco was thick with unspoken words when a shuffle from the hallway broke the moment. A muffled voice, familiar and filled with unease, echoed through the room. Your heart sank as you realized Jinx had been listening outside. She knew something was off, and she was about to confront you both.

The door creaked open, and Jinx stepped inside, her usual manic energy subdued by the confusion in her eyes. Her gaze immediately flickered to the desk, where the pregnancy test lay, its presence now casting a heavy shadow over the room. The colour drained from her face as she processed what she was seeing, and her eyes flickered between you and Silco, realization quickly settling in.

"Y-You're pregnant?" she repeated, her voice small, barely above a whisper. Her gaze flickered to the test on the desk, and then back to you, her face contorting in an expression that was a mix of confusion, fear, and something deeper—hurt.

You opened your mouth to say something, but the words stuck in your throat. You knew what this meant for Jinx. She was no stranger to being pushed aside, forgotten, and replaced. Her unpredictable nature often led to misunderstandings, but the one thing you both shared was a bond, a strange and unspoken connection. The idea that she might think this would mean the end of that bond broke something inside you.

Jinx took a step back, her hands trembling as they fidgeted with the edges of her shirt. Her voice wavered, the insecurity leaking through her usual bravado. "I—I don’t... I don’t know what this means," she stammered, her eyes flickering between you and Silco, her words faltering. "You won’t need me anymore, right? I mean, you... You’ll have the baby now. You’ll have your family, and... I won’t matter anymore."

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she quickly blinked them away, a brittle smile forcing its way onto her lips. "It’s fine," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "I’ll just... I'll just go. It’s okay. I’ll stay out of the way. You don’t have to worry about me anymore."

A cold knot of guilt formed in your chest, and you moved toward her, reaching out to steady her. "Jinx, no. You’ll never be in the way. This—this has nothing to do with you being pushed aside." Your voice cracked slightly, but you fought to steady it. "I don’t want you to think you’re being replaced. You're not."

Jinx shook her head, her lips curling into a bitter smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "It’s always been that way, though, hasn’t it? People come, people go. You and Silco... you’ll have everything you need now. You don’t need someone like me. I’ll just mess things up." Her voice was barely above a whisper, as though she was trying to convince herself of the lie she was telling.

Silco, who had been watching the exchange with a mixture of concern and patience, leaned forward, his voice cutting through the heavy air. "Jinx," he said, his tone more measured than before, yet carrying an undeniable firmness. "You think we would let you slip away so easily? You think you can just vanish because of something like this?"

Jinx didn’t meet his gaze, her eyes fixed on the ground as if she were afraid to hear what he was about to say.

Silco’s voice softened slightly, though still strong, like a quiet force. "You’re part of this—our lives. You’re not going anywhere, Jinx. You’re not a burden, and you’re certainly not going to be forgotten."

You stepped closer, placing a hand gently on Jinx’s shoulder, trying to convey the steadiness you wanted her to feel. "I don’t know what the future holds," you continued, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "But I do know that you’re a part of it. I don’t want to lose you. Neither of us does."

Jinx’s breathing hitched, and for a moment, it seemed like she might finally let the wall she’d built up come crumbling down. She glanced up at you, her wide eyes searching yours, as if she were waiting for a sign that this wasn’t a dream, that this wasn’t just some cruel joke.

"You’re sure?" Jinx asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her vulnerability laid bare. "You’re sure you don’t want to... forget about me?" She swallowed hard, her usual bravado replaced by the uncertainty that had been lurking beneath all along.

You nodded firmly, your hand tightening on her shoulder. "I’m sure, Jinx. You’re not a mistake. You’re not a burden. You’re family."

The words seemed to hang in the air for a moment, and Jinx stood there, her body tense as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. Then, slowly, her face softened, and the rawness in her eyes faded just a little. She looked at Silco, and then back at you, as though trying to reconcile the fractured pieces of herself that she had kept hidden away for so long.

After a moment, she cast a glance at the pregnancy test again, her voice still uncertain but with a touch of curiosity. "I don’t really know about this kid thing," she muttered, her words soft but full of confusion. "But... I can teach them stuff, right? Like... how to make cool things blow up?"

You laughed softly, the tension beginning to ease as Jinx’s mischievous spark returned. "Of course, Jinx," you said, offering her a reassuring smile. "You’ll be the best big sibling ever."

"Just... don't make the kid your partner in crime right away, alright?" Silco says, his tone unexpectedly gentle.

Jinx’s eyes lit up, her mischievous grin returning in full force. "Oh, no promises, Silco."

And in that moment, the storm seemed to pass. The air between you all lightened, and though the future was uncertain, you knew that you would face it together. As a family. No matter what.

#Arcane #arcane fandom #arcane fluff #reader insert #jinx x platonic!reader #jayce x reader #jayce x you #jayce talis x reader #jayce x y/n #viktor x y/n #viktor x reader #jayce x reader x viktor #viktor x you #vander x reader #silco x reader #jayvik x reader

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vantedaes · 3 days ago

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cry, cry, cry

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader tags: porn with little plot, dacryphilia (or an attempt at it at least) soft dom nanami, slight breathplay, fingering, alcohol use, body fluids mentions, unprotected sex, manhandling, slight objectivization, passing out, hair pulling, pussy spanking, slight breeding kink, reader does not talk but because of the context no because she can't. NO PROOFREAD. an: English is not my first language, there might be mistakes that would be addressed,,, someday, for now I just want this to be posted it has been sitting on my drafts like forever. Inspired by this tiktok of my lovely bbh

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT +18 ONLY!!!

!Husband Kento was not a stranger to being enraged when working overtime, however, he didn't make a habit of taking that rage home, where his lovely wife was waiting for him. Unfortunately for him, today was one of those days he couldn´t stop the bubbling wrath when returning home after insufferable overtime hours cleaning everyone´s messes.

Of course, he had sent you a text beforehand letting you know that it was for the best to allow him time to cool down before talking to him, and thankfully you've been supporting and understanding as ever telling him that he shouldn´t worry and that a glass of his favorite bourbon was already served in his study.

You knew exactly that your lovely husband had an especially rough day, you could tell by the sound of the door opening an abrasive almost like the FBI was breaking into your house, you could hear from your shared room the loud slamming of the door, so strong it made you flinch, your cat scaping your blanket running into hiding somewhere in the closet.

Closing your book you put it on your nightstand and heard how the heavy steps of your husband made their way to your home, you could listen to the rustling of his clothing and another slam of what you could guess was his suitcase, oh, he was real upset, Not long after that you hear him opening the door of his study. Standing up you got out of your shared room, you didn't want to bother him at all knowing he had to blow some steam, so you just went to the drawing room to assess the situation, with soft steps you saw how his coat was thrown under the hanger and his suitcase a few steps from the coat, open, revealing what you could only assume was red numbers and some other reports he had to deal with, you did your best to accommodate everything in its place hearing your husband going slamming things in his office.

You knew it was better to just go to sleep and wait for him to come to bed whenever he felt like it, but, you were also curious, you´d never seen him this upset, so after getting his things together you made your way silently to his study, almost on tiptoes, the door was wide open which made your little espionage easier. Only the light of his desk was on, you leaned in the doorframe like a child trying not to get busted when they know were being naughty, your breath caught into your throat when you saw him, his back to you pouring even more of the bourbon and gulping it in just one quick motion, his muscles evidently tense making him look even bigger, menacing even, his big hands gripping the glass and the movement of his throat working that burning alcohol down like it was nothing.

And dear lord, you could feel your pajama shorts getting soaked.

Your skin burned like it had caught on fire, you weren't unfamiliar with how insanely hot and attractive your husband was, but this was different, this was the first time you'd seen him, this, this enraged, his whole demeanor changing in a drastic form that you've never experimented and your eyes were glazing for just the sight, your fingers itching to help you relieve some of that tension desire building in the pit of your stomach. Your husband then sits on his chair, his strong tights expanding, and his crotch more prominent, his hair like a full mess, golden locks falling into his gorgeous face that was contorted into a hostile expression that only made you press your tights even closer to each other, you could feel yourself trembling with a raw need that was taking over every grain of your sanity.

But then in a swift motion, after struggling to take off his tie he simply opted for tearing the damn thing apart, the buttons of his shirt flying to different parts of the room, allowing his massive chest to breathe and with that sinful sight you couldn't help but gasp. Still, in reality, it was more like a pitiful whimper that was capable of getting your very angry husband´s attention to you.

The moment your eyes connected with his dark eyes you didn´t move an inch, something like fear and excitement creeping into you, like a fear of a beast that found the most helpless prey on its own lair, which was accurately what was happening.

Your husband stood up and gulped the whisky quickly, licking his lips as he addressed you.

"C´me here" His voice was raspy, like going through your whole body, it made you quiver even more, made your whole being more intoxicated.

Slowly you approached him, his eyes never leaving you for a second, and you were used to Kento´s eyes on you, his attentive and longing gaze every time he looked at you, but the way he was looking at you now was something else, like drinking the sight of you, like devouring your whole image, resembling a madman that has been starved. When you got close enough you stopped, just a few centimeters separating you, he smirked cockily his lips glazed with the bourbon, and your nostrils were filled with the scent of his cologne mixed with alcohol it roamed through your figure and you find yourself inhaling it, fueling even more the heat that was about to explode inside your body. Your husband looked amused at how you were paralyzed in front of him like you were asking permission to touch him, your own husband, it was ridiculous, and yet it was what his good girl knew had to do.

"Look at you, shamelessly spying on me when I perfectly told you to give me space" His hand gripped your chin with a strength that made you part your lips in surprise "Now that you got what you wanted...you´re all shaky, angel"

You wanted to answer sure, it wasn´t your nature to stay quiet, you were always quick with a comeback but just like in a trance, you were just mute and so fucking needy, he, your husband, was not a man who loses his calm like ever, one year of marriage and you've never seen him this deranged.

He could hardly blame you for how your body reacted, you yourself didn't know you could find him even hotter.

Quivering, you tried to speak "I—"

And without any kind of warning, he grabbed your waist with a strength that made you gasp in surprise, the sound of shattering glass stealing your attention for a quick second —he really threw his glass on the floor—, but as soon as you felt your frame pressed tightly at the body of Kento your mind went to a fucking blank again, contemplating how his normally hazel color eyes were totally pitch black. His arm was like an iron band around your waist and your hands posed on his big chest trying to hold onto something, his closeness making you quiver like a leaf and you could just read in his expression how much he liked all of your wretched reactions.

"Shh...it´s alright angel" he whispered hotly upon your lips "I already know what you want"

Before you could process any of his words he took you and bent you over his desk, your hips pressed against the edge of it and all of the stuff on top of it falling down, the bottle of whiskey spilling over the wood surface where your face was now pressed against wetting your cheek and lips, you were never a fan of whiskey —or any strong alcohol really—, but right now you welcomed it eagerly with your mouth hanging open when you felt the hot and rough hands of your husband stripping you off your pajama shorts, your cunt being met with the breeze of the room, soaked, you felt how your juices were already trailing your tights. You moaned pitifully, your hole clenching into nothing.

Nanami laughed in a vibrato that made your knees buckle, "Look at that, so fucking wet..." his fingers trailed your dampness pressing over your wet swollen lips gathering all the liquid before entering your entrance in a quick movement, you let out a high pitched moan at the sudden intermission "That´s right angel, you will take it"

He kept moving his fingers inside your cunt quickly while his other hand kept your head firmly pressed into his desk, the whisky fusing with your saliva as you kept loudly moaning, your body going into shambles quickly, Nanami was like a feral beast fucking you with his fingers letting out the hottest low grunts that were making your orgasm approach in a tidal wave in just mere seconds of his fingers inside you.

"Yes yes yes" you chanted in ecstasy, your legs fully trembling as your orgasm hit you with an intensity that would almost make you fall if it wasn't for the firm hand of your husband keeping you still on the surface of his desk, a loud moaning of his name leaving your mouth.

"made a mess of my fingers angel, so needy you came so fast" his fingers leaving your leaky entrance and trailing through your cunt greedily. you were panting with the aftermath of your orgasm, the whiskey now soaking the whole table and part of your hair "Filthy, filthy girl, looking like a used whore after just taking my fingers"

He roamed a chuckle, then you heard him sucking his fingers nastily, sounding richly across the room, and in a quick moment he slapped your pussy making you scream your already shaky legs buckling and almost falling to the floor only to be grabbed by your wrists and manhandled to your position on the table.

Another smack on your pussy made you yelp, "Come on now, don't act like this cunt doesn't like it rough" You felt him pressing against your ass, fully clothed, and yet you felt the big bulge twitching against your bare cunt, soaking his pants, it was unbearable to have his cock still on his pants when you wanted it so so so bad.

However, you could only mutter pathetic whimpers, so clouded and drunk on his cock that wasn't even inside you. "Stay put" Your husband demanded and you immediately went still, excitement filling your body as you heard him unfast his belt followed by his zipper and a delicious groan as his cock was fully out

You couldn't quite see but you knew he didn't take off his pants by the way you could feel the fabric on your tights and fuck, you could come just right there again.

"I believe you know I have no intend of going soft with you tonight," He remarked while tracing his cock on your swollen lips, his precum fusing with your juices "Oh, but look at you angel... so fucked up looking like you could die if I don't give you this cock"

"I—" A slap to your asscheek cut you off to a pathetic moan, and soon you felt the hard body of your husband pressing on your back to whisper in your ear.

"I don´t want to hear anything that is not those pathetic little moans you made" His hot breath against your neck had you shivering, with his hard cock nestled between your folds you could do nothing but behave, tears escaping your eyes betraying how much you wanted it, how much you need it, Nanami trailed your neck inhaling your scent like he needed it more than air, getting drunk on it and leaving wet open mouth kisses on your boiling hot skin. Despite the twitching of his cock against your folds he did nothing more than tease your skin with his hot breath on your most sensible zones, driving you into absolute madness, your hole clenching, hungry, and desperate.

His hands gripping your waist tightly, you were sure tomorrow it'll have a mark. "Nothing more than a slut for this cock hm?" he teased leaving your back, standing again he took your jaw turning your face to him, when you looked at his handsome face his eyes looked like a deep endless void of how black and dilated they were, not a trace of his usual hazel like eyes, he looked at you with ravenousness, his eyes darting through your face that was now covered in tears

His cock twitched at the sight of your whipping face, you started sobbing, your lips trembling in a way of begging him to fuck you.

"Oh fuck" He moaned leaving your jaw to tug on your hair and grabbing the base of his cock he finally directed his tip to your needy entrance, you moaned even more between tears feeling how the length of your husband's cock stretched you.

Fuuuuck, your husband was big and, oh, he did not intend to go soft with you, remember? So you should have expected when his full-length slammed into your cunt in a strong thrust, making you cry loud, your hands grabbing the edge of the table, you could feel his cock molding your insides, his veins popping through your walls and if you were already not intoxicated you surely were now.

Nanami moaned feeling your pussy tightening around him like you want to cut him off, he pulled your hair into his fist harder and looking straight at your eyes he hissed, "Put your fucking hands were they where"

Looking at him with big tearful eyes you clasped your hands together behind your back, your whole stability now depending on how your husband had your hair pulled into his fist. "Such an obedient girl... Now keep sobbing like a dumb slut while I feed you this cock"

And with that, you could only hiccup pathetically, Nanami's thrusts were erratic and fast, kissing every bit of your insides, he looked at you with a deranged look, enjoying how you were drooling and crying while taking his cock so harshly, he fucking loved it, having you go all fucking stupid on his big cock and have you reduced to a needy little thing.

"Yes, fuck—that's right, so fucking tight around me" his sloppy thrust was making you dizzy on how deep he was reaching into you, your orgasm already in the making ready to burst with the warning of being even bigger than the last one and your husband knew it completely, that smirk of his adorning his lips, with that your second orgasm erupt shaking your whole body, your husband groaned pulling on your hair harder making you stare at him while you creamed his cock and your eyes rolled, tears trailing down your face to your throat disappearing on your breasts, your husband's depraved eyes look at it and soon you had him turning you around without leaving your sloppy hole to now have you laying down the desk in a more comfortably position

A position that allowed you to look upon your very disheveled husband, through your teary and hazy eyes you could see and drink at the sight of Nanami just fucking into you like a mad man, like a fucking wild animal, his hands now gripping your jaw playing with it like you were a useless doll, his fingers entering your hot mouth pressing on your tongue while he kept pounding that fat cock into you, you whimper so cockdrunk you were about to pass out feeling his hard cock kiss your cervix every time, he was ruthless in the way he was fucking you and you were obsessed with it.

"Fuck, I'm going to fill you up so fucking good" he left your jaw and slapped your tits before rubbing your clit in a maniac rhythm that pull you out of your drowsy state and soon you were filling up another orgasm approaching, "come for me sweetheart, I know you can, fuck—do it"

His thrusts were, even more, sloppier, erratic, and quick you felt like you were about to explode, it was way too much, you were pushing the limits of your oversensitive body, but oh, how you loved it especially when you felt his hard cock stiffen even more inside you and warm cum filling your insides and soon you were cumming a third time, this time even more intense than the previous ones and your whole body shudder at the immense pleasure and the fullness of the cum inside you, your husband moans in the background of your nirvana, it was as you where losing your hold on reality and soon everything went blank.

!Husband Kento was heavily panting rolling off the immense orgasm he had, only to find his lovely wife passed out on his desk, and even though his first response was to get worried that he indeed had been too rough with you, but, the happiness on your —very fucked up— face told him everything he needed to know.

Taking his dick out of you he put himself together and took your limp body in his arms to carry you into the bathroom, somewhere along the way you regained consciousness, your pretty confused eyes looked at him and soon your cheeks turned red "Hello beautiful, I'm going to take care of you now"

Simply he assured you with a smile and a kiss to your damped forehead, you smelled like sweat and whiskey.

"..." You looked like you wanted to speak and Nanami could only chuckle affectionately at your uncertainty.

"You can speak now angel"

#Jjk x reader #Jjk fluff #Jjk smut #Nanami x reader #Nanami fluff #Nanami smut #Nanami Kento smut #nanami fic #nanami drabble #nanami oneshot #jjk oneshot #jjk drabble #nanami x you #jjk nanami #kento nanami

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roosterforme · 5 hours ago

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Aim for the Sky Part 33 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley can't wait to learn if Rose is going to have a younger brother or sister. Planning for the baby means planning for the future, but Bradley can feel that you're unhappy. With help from friends, he finally figures out why.

Warnings: Angst, adult language, body image, DILF Roo, pregnancy, jealousy, vomiting

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

You'd been quiet for days, chalking it up to exhaustion from work, but Bradley was a little concerned. He was missing out on a lot of cooking and cleaning at home, as well as responsibilities with Rose. Most days, he was collapsing in bed right after you, body tired and brain overworked. But he was close to advancing a few of his pilots to the next stage in their careers, and he didn't want to let up just yet.

Truthfully, he was enjoying many aspects of his day-to-day at work. He loved making decisions that would benefit his group. When he had a compelling answer for his superior officers, it made him feel so good about himself. He didn't even mind putting in the extra hours. But it was clear that Indigo wanted to be his class pet, and he wasn't quite sure what to do about that.

She was weighing on his mind a lot, most likely because she was constantly invading his office hours. He wanted to tell her she didn't have to try so hard to be the best aviator in the bunch when she just simply was the best one. But that would be feeding her ego, which probably wasn't the smartest option right now.

"Are you ready?"

Bradley looked up from his desk to see you standing there, and he jumped to his feet. "Of course I'm ready," replied with a smile, pushing all of his paperwork to the side and logging out of his computer. "Been looking forward to this."

You smiled softly, hand resting on the slight swell of your belly as you shifted your weight from one booted foot to the other. "Me too," you whispered, and Bradley grabbed his keys, wallet and phone from his desk drawer. He reached for your hand, lacing his fingers between yours and headed out into the sunny October afternoon.

"Time for our final guesses," you said. "Do you think it's a boy or another girl?"

Bradley looked down at your face, the perfect curve of your cheek catching the sunlight. You were beautiful. Every bit as stunning as the day he first laid eyes on you in one of the classrooms he passed on a regular basis. "Sweetheart, if there's anything good or just in this world, it better be another girl. Then I'd have three of you to look at."

"Rose looks like you, Bradley!" you insisted immediately, breaking out in the biggest smile he'd seen on your face in weeks.

"Rose looks like you. Everyone thinks so. She's adorable." He pulled you to a stop and leaned down to kiss your cheek. "And her face already has this exact curve that I'm fucking obsessed with."

Bradley let his lips linger, loving the way your cheek warmed as you stepped all the way into his embrace. You seemed on the verge of telling him something or asking a question, your posture never quite relaxing. He'd noticed that recently. Like you couldn't let yourself completely go with him like you always did. He wanted to ask you what was going on, but he was more than willing to wait until you were ready to say something on your own.

"We'll be late if we don't get a move on," you whispered. Bradley responded by kissing along your cheek to your lips. "I'm serious, Roo," you mumbled.

"Let's go," he sighed. "Dr. Morris already thinks I'm an idiot. I better not add tardiness to her list of complaints about me."

A short drive later, and the two of you were walking into the waiting room right on time. You barely sat down before a nurse was calling you back and handing you a hospital gown.

"It's weird without Rose here," you said as you got undressed. Bradley held out the gown for you to slip into, shaking his head.

"Nah. This is just for us. She can hear all about it later after work."

He was just about to close the distance to stop you from tying the gown closed so he could get another look at you, but Dr. Morris strolled in.

"How are we all doing?" she asked, shooting Bradley a look on her way past. It wasn't like he was capable of knocking you up again, but she was looking at him like he might have.

"Fantastic," he replied at the same time you said, "Okay."

He shot you a look as you eased yourself up on the table. He wasn't sure what he could do to make you happier. A conversation was clearly necessary now, but he didn't even know how to initiate it. If finding out more about the second Nugget today wasn't enough to make you smile, he didn't know what was.

He dropped down into the chair at your side, wrapping his big hand around yours as Dr. Morris spread that warm gel across your belly and asked you an array of questions. He listened to your answers as his heart beat a little faster. He was excited about this. Soon you could talk about baby names and nursery themes. He couldn't wait to meet his second child in the spring.

Bradley kissed your fingertips, watching intently as your doctor isolated some ultrasound images. Then she asked, "Do you want to find out the sex?"

"Fuck yes," Bradley gasped, scooting his chair a little closer. "I mean, please."

You and Dr. Morris were both wearing smirks as he squeezed your hand. He was so excited, it was hard to swallow. He didn't care if it was a boy or a girl. He felt the same way last time around, too. He just wanted a healthy kid he could dote on.

"It's a girl."

He was up out of his seat, sending the thing screeching across the floor as he hooted. Okay, so maybe he did have a bit of a preference for another daughter, but he would have been happy either way.

"Another girl!" he shouted while you smiled up at him. "Just me and my three beautiful girls."

Bradley let his lips collide with yours, kissing you until he got his fill. Dr. Morris and the rest of the ultrasound and everything else could just wait a few minutes while he soaked in this pure perfection.

----------------------------

Bradley had been inundating your text thread for days with links to various nursery themes, but meanwhile you and he hadn't even decided which room would be your second daughter's.

"A second daughter," you whispered at your desk. Your parents were excited; you got to watch your mom and dad cry over FaceTime. Rose was too young to care, but one day she might have an opinion about her sister. You, on the other hand, felt like a mixed bag of emotions.

You wanted to be happy. You really did. But it was too hard. Somehow letting your sadness ebb and flow was easier. Especially whenever you ventured too far away from your lab or your office. Indigo was always around. It was like she knew were to find you. And perhaps she did. Your name was in the directories around base. But it felt like she was mocking you. She obviously wanted your husband, and he was either oblivious or hiding something.

When you managed to let your intrusive thoughts win out, you checked his phone only to find pretty much nothing untoward. Other than ruining the surprise of what was probably supposed to be an anniversary gift, all you found was one unanswered message Indigo sent to him a while ago. It bordered on flirtatious, and you were a little concerned that he gave her his phone number, but there was really nothing there.

But she was in your face on base enough that you kept to your office as much as you could. Of course, today was the day you were absolutely starving, and you left your lunch at home. You could pop down to the cafeteria, grab a sandwich to appease yourself and the baby, and then bring it back up here to eat it. Should be a piece of cake.

Hot turkey sandwiches were on the menu, and you almost cried tears of joy as you had one packed up in a container with extra gravy and a side of mashed potatoes. It smelled so good, you couldn't wait to take a bite.

When you were waiting for the elevator, you froze with your lunch in your hands. You could see Indigo and Spice heading out of the cafeteria, and there was hardly anyone in the lobby for you to try to hide behind. You felt absolutely ridiculous as you stood there eavesdropping.

"What kind of progress have you made?" Spice asked, voice carrying over the sound of conversation around you.

Indigo smiled and laughed, showing off her perfect teeth. "Well, I can't give you details here, but... it's no wonder he's willing to spend so much time with me after hours. Anyone with eyes can see his wife let herself go this time around." Your cheeks burned as she added, "He's more than happy to help me with absolutely anything I need."

You sucked in a deep breath, certain she was talking about Bradley. And you. When the elevator arrived you ducked inside, jamming your finger against the button for your floor. As the doors slid shut, Indigo's gaze connected with yours, and she stood there proudly with her friend like she'd actually managed to steal Bradley from you.

A sob escaped your lips, and you tripped along to your office door. You really did look awful. Your skin was broken out, and you were going to need to start wearing the maternity tent well before your third trimester. Your belly was already tender, and then the baby decided this was the perfect moment to kick hard enough you thought you were going to wet your khakis.

"She's right," you whispered, tossing your lunch onto your desk and running for the bathroom. One glance in the mirror as you ran for an empty stall left you sobbing in the ladies' room. You looked awful. It was no wonder Bradley was paying extra attention to her. The fear that looking at Indigo had already turned into touching her was eating away at you. When you flushed the toilet, you turned and gagged before emptying the meager contents of your stomach into the bowl.

When you finally made it back to your office, your stomach couldn't handle a single bite of food. You dumped it in the trash.

-----------------------------

Bradley was just wrapping up a meeting with Maverick when Indigo cornered him outside his office. "Can I help you with something?" he asked, trying to keep the amusement from his voice. She was getting to be relentless.

As she shook her head slowly, she laughed. "I already told you, Sir, I can think of countless things you could help me with."

"Well why don't you run some of them past me?"

Her eyes widened as she licked her lips. "We could do that at the Hard Deck? I could still buy you that drink?"

Bradley sighed, hands planted on his hips which somehow drew her in closer. "I can't let any of you buy me drinks. Sorry, but that's not going to happen." He nodded toward his door. "But I have about fifteen minutes if there's something I can help you with."

She nodded. "Fifteen minutes would probably be more than enough, Sir."

Indigo stepped inside his office, glancing back at him over her shoulder, but Bradley saw another familiar face turn the corner in the hallway.

"Hey, there, hot shot," said Natasha, making Bradley smile. "You have a minute?"

"Actually, no," he replied, watching as his best friend looked inside to see who was waiting for him. She made a face, gaze snapping back to his. "Can it wait until later?"

Nat pressed her lips together like she was fighting off a scowl. "I wanted to see if you were free to workout with me later," she whispered. "I could stop by after dinner, and we could do some reps in your garage?"

"Absolutely," he replied. "See you around seven?"

"Yeah."

She took one more look at Indigo before marching back the way she came, leaving Bradley with nothing to do but take a seat behind his desk.

"Do you want me to close the door?" Indigo asked, voice laced with hope as she half stood.

"Leave it," Bradley replied, once again showing no hint of favoritism. "Now, what did you want to talk about?"

----------------------------

After dinner, you excused yourself to Rose's nursery to feed her and make a phone call to your parents. Bradley kissed you on the forehead before doubling back to the bedroom to change into gym clothes. When he let you know Nat was coming over to workout in the garage, you seemed almost relieved.

He started setting up his weights and bench press when he heard the sound of a familiar engine pull up to the house. A minute later, Nat was strolling in wearing bright pink spandex with a matching gym bag.

"I could spot you a mile away," he told her, and she chucked her bag at his chest. They both laughed when he caught it.

"You know what I can see a mile away?" she asked.

"What?"

"The word dumbass written across your forehead."

He rolled his eyes, dropping her bag onto one of the mats. Then he froze as he heard another engine pull up to a stop at his driveway. This one made him glare at Nat.

"Why is he here?" Bradley asked, and a split second later, Jake came strolling in like he owned the place.

Nat and Jake shared a look as Jake tossed his gym bag next to hers. "I thought I might need some backup."

Now Bradley was annoyed and also confused. "Backup? For what?"

Natasha closed the distance to him, patting Bradley on the chest with a firm hand. Her dark eyes conveyed concern as she asked, "Are you fucking stupid? Or are you doing it on purpose?"

"Huh?"

"I love you, Bradley. I really do. But I still have to follow girl code."

"Nat, I have no fucking clue what you're talking about."

The clanging of Jake adding weights to the bar made Bradley want to scream as Nat shook her head in pity.

"She wants in your pants," Jake drawled.

"Who?" Bradley asked, still unsure what they were even talking about.

"Your student with the crazy blue eyes!" Nat said, smacking him hard on the chest.

"Indigo?" Bradley asked, taking a step away from her. Both Nat and Jake were nodding as Bradley's brow creased. "She's like twenty-six years old."

"So?" Nat asked, hands planted on her hips.

"So, she's not trying to get in my pants. I'm married. Everyone knows I'm married."

Bradley held up his left hand, complete with wedding band. He rarely ever took it off, especially since it got him into hot water with you when he was deployed. But as he watched the band shine under the fluorescent lights, his lips parted wordlessly, and he stood there while both Nat and Jake scrutinized him.

If Indigo had been flirting with him this whole time, he'd written her off as an overzealous young pilot trying to prove herself. Now every interaction replayed through his mind, and he rubbed his palm over his eyes as he groaned. There was no way this was happening to him. He'd been alone with her on several occasions in his office. The door always remained open, but she'd pushed for him to close it.

Bradley's cheeks burned with mortification, and he wasn't sure he could even look Nat in the face. If Indigo really was trying to get in his pants, then he was a joke. He was an absolute joke, and none of the younger pilots took him seriously in his new role. That thought made him sick, but not as sick as the idea that maybe you'd noticed something as well.

Bradley swallowed hard. "Oh, fuck." When he swallowed again, he wanted to scream.

"Okay, there's my answer," Nat whispered, wrapping her fingers gently around his wrist and pulling his hand away from his face. She pressed herself up onto her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Thank god you're just stupid. It would be so much worse if you were messing around with her intentionally."

"I'm not," he barked, angry at the insinuation. "I wouldn't. I've never even touched her!"

Nat's hands were on his chest, coaxing him to calm down, but he was too worked up. "Easy, Soul Sister," she said, but he was shaking his head now.

"I'm fucking married, Nat! I made wedding vows. I have a daughter, and my wife is pregnant with another girl. What the fuck would I cheat for? What's going to be better than this?"

Bradley's chest was heaving with ragged breaths as she guided him to sit on his bench. He landed hard, jostling the weights as he looked up at two sympathetic faces.

"Nothing's gonna be better than Angel," Jake drawled. "I'm still not sure if it was dumb luck or divine intervention, but she's way out of your league, Bradshaw."

"I know," Bradley snarled. "You think I don't know that? She's fucking perfect." He tilted his head back, blinking up at the lights. "Do you think she knows Indigo was trying to flirt with me?"

"Absolutely," Nat replied, and Bradley forced himself to meet her eyes.

"Yes, asshole," Jake added. "She's not stupid like you are."

"Fuck." Bradley stood and started pacing around. He felt like his job and marriage were suddenly on the line. He didn't know what to say to you that wouldn't potentially make things worse right now. If he could think of something reasonable, he'd run across the yard and back inside the house and say it to your face.

Maybe this was part of the reason you'd been so quiet? But it didn't make sense. He never talked about Indigo outside of the context of work, because there was simply nothing else to say. But after that night at the bar, you were really fucking mad at him. He thought you were mad that he got drunk, but maybe there was more to it.

"God damn it," he groaned, realizing Nat was lifting weights while Jake spotted her. "Do you think I should talk to Mav tomorrow?"

"Yes," they both replied in unison. The fact that they agreed on something was scary enough, but that let Bradley know just how fucked he was.

But he would take care of everything. He'd talk to Mav and figure it all out. What other choice did he have?

"I'm heading inside," he murmured. "Can the two of you turn off the lights and lock up when you're done."

Bradley didn't wait for an answer. He was already walking across the backyard, craving your reassuring touch that he wasn't quite sure he deserved. When his phone vibrated in the pocket of his shorts, he pulled it out. He was met with another text from Indigo, but this time there was a photo as well. She was on the beach at sunset, the orange and pink sky somehow making her eyes look even more startlingly blue, and she was smiling at the camera. When his eyes slid down the screen to her cleavage, he almost dropped his phone. But not before he read the text.

This beach is so beautiful. Wish you were here.

Bradley couldn't decide what to do. Turn around and go back to the garage? Go inside the house? Sit down on Rose's jungle gym and cry? Smash his phone to bits? When another text appeared, he looked at it immediately.

Oops, I sent that to the wrong person. Have a good night, Sir.

Bradley squeezed his phone in his hand until he was afraid it might break. Then he opened a different text thread and pounded out a message, hitting send immediately.

Mav, I need to talk to you about something important first thing in the morning.

When Bradley noticed movement, he looked up at the sliding glass door. You were carrying Rose around the living room, bouncing her in your arms as you yawned. Getting the Nugget ready for bed was supposed to be his job. He loved it. The bedtime stories and the snuggles were the best part. He needed to have this.

Finally he walked inside, sliding the door closed quietly behind him, trying not to panic. Rose was nearly asleep, but you let him take her into his arms. Bradley kissed her all over her sweet face before forfeiting her to her crib, then he climbed in bed with you. When he reached for your hand, you curled up against him, and he let his hand rest along your belly.

"I love you, Sweetheart," he whispered, heart aching. "I love my three girls."

-----------------------------

Start getting your shit together, Bradley. Indigo has shown she's relentless. Also, I thought I was solid on the baby's name, but I might put it to a vote. Stay tuned. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@solacestyles

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@horseslovers2016

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

@daggerspare-standingby

@nessjo

@trickphotography2

@lyn-js

@furiousladyking

@godsfavoritebabe

@bethabear12

@halo-mystic

@sherlockstrangewolf

@theamuz

@khaylin27

@glenpowellluver

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etherealmelodys · 3 days ago

Text

Choi Su-Bong/ Thanos

NSFW Alphabet

Warning: Talks of oral, penetrative sex, squirting, dacryphilia, mentions of drugs, Thanos just being himself.

A/N: ong I'm sick of ppl writing Thanos like he's abusive, my purple haired king would never!! But tbh he's lucky he ain't real or I'd suck the skin right off his dick ykwim

A - Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Contrary to popular belief, I don't think he'd be that bad at aftercare. He's not amazing at it don't get me wrong, but he's not gonna just leave you alone with nothing. He definitely might offer you some sort of drug he's got on his roster, but I believe he'd clean you up and make sure that you're feeling okay and get confirmation that he wasn't too rough with you.

B - Body Part (Their favorite body part on you and themselves)

Nobody can tell me that this man isn't obsessed with his tongue oml. To him, it's a gift from the gods that he gets to use it to taste every part of you. From your soft lips to your breasts, all the way down to your cunt. He's an ass man oh my. He loves the way it jiggles when he fucks you from behind, how soft and smooth it is when he grips it while you ride him.

C - Cum (Anything to do with cum)

You cannot tell me this man doesn't love cumming all over your back or ass. He's obsessed with the way it slides down the curve of your ass, coating his thighs in the substance. He adores how messy the whole process is, wanting to see you covered in just him, it could get him higher than any drug he's tried.

D - Dirty Secret ( Self-explanatory)

He just wants one night where he can do whatever he wants to your tits. Whether it be playing with your nipples, leaving hickeys on them, massaging them, or more importantly squishing them together and fucking them, his tip going between your plump lips every time he thrusts up into them.

E - Experience (How experienced are they?)

Did y'all see all the people that swarmed him once they knew who he was? Imagine what it was like outside the games. He is well-experienced when it comes to fucking someone, but not having an intimate moment with another person.

F - Favorite Position (What positions do they like the most?)

He loves any position that puts him in a position of control. He loves reverse cowgirl especially because it gives him full access to the sight of your ass. He's also a fan of doggy style, again due to the sight he gets of your ass but also because of how deep he can get in that position.

G - Goofy (How serious are they in the moment? Do they tease you?)

He is teasing the shit outta you I'm so sorry. I don't think he has the capability not to tease you. It just gets him so worked up seeing your eyes well up with tears at his comments, it just makes his cock throb.

H - Hair (What’s the hair situation down there)

I honestly cannot decide with him. For one he gives off the vibes that he's bald down there, finding the hair to be an annoyance. But also I don't think he'd care enough about it to shave it and just let it grow. For the sake of the argument, I'm just gonna say he shaves his shit bald.

I - intimacy (How romantic are they in the moment?)

I feel like there are some times when he can be very romantic if you need it. Usually, he's the type to go rough and fast. But occasionally he can be slow and sensual, giving you gentle kisses and touches, treating you as if you were the most delicate thing he's ever handled.

J - Jack Off (How often do they touch themselves?)

He jacks off very frequently, about every other day tbh. I don't think he'd do it to porn often, and if he did it would be to an actor who looks like you. But most of the time he does it to the memory of you, whether it be you grinding down on his face making those pretty noises he loves so much, or him fucking into you, your whines the only thing he can hear besides the slapping of your skin against his.

K - Kinks (What are their kinks?)

You cannot tell me this man isn't into Exhibitionism. He loves the idea of you guys almost getting caught in the middle of the act, he swears he feels himself get even harder at the sight of you trying to quiet yourself down in an attempt to not get caught. He's also into dacryphilia, seeing you cry from the overwhelming amount of pleasure he's causing you makes him cum right on the spot.

L - Location (Where do they prefer to have sex?)

He would be into anything public, bathroom stalls, fingering you under a table, having you bounce on his dick in a dark crowded club, he's into it all.

M - Motivation (What turns them on?)

Seeing you in any type of revealing clothing, especially skirts, immediately gets him hard. Seeing you in lingerie is by far the sexiest thing you could wear in front of him. He'd want you to keep it on as he bends you over, pulling the lingerie to the side and eating you out to his heart's content.

N - No (What are some things they’ll never do?)

He's not really into the whole submissive role, he always wants to be the one in charge, at least during any sexual interaction. He's also not into doing anything that can seriously harm you.

O - Oral (How do they feel about oral? Do they prefer giving or receiving?)

I don't think he has a preference between the two. He loves the sight of you on your knees, trying to fit his cock in your mouth, tears in the corner of your eyes due to the brutal pace he's set fucking your face. But he also adores the feeling of your thighs wrapped around his head, unintentionally pulling him closer to your cunt. The feeling of it pulsing around his tongue when he finally makes you cum, the little whines and moans you let out from the overstimulation.

P - Pace (How fast/slow are they?)

He's fast with his pace, he swears he can't help himself. The feeling of your tight walls wrapped around his cock, practically begging him to pound you into the mattress with all the force he can muster. It's your fault for feeling so damm good.

Q - Quickie (How do they feel about quickies?)

He loves them so much! He's usually busy writing his songs or in the studio recording, so quickies are always a yes for him.

R - Risk (How willing are they to experiment? Do they take any risks?)

He loves experimenting, but he's usually the one to initiate it due to his impulsive behavior. If it’s something you're not willing to try he'd absolutely respect that. But if you brought something up? Oh baby he's down to do whatever as long as it doesn't put either of you in danger. Wanna try out bondage? Go ahead and get comfortable because you'll be tied up for a while.

S - Stamina (How many rounds can they do? How long can they go for?)

When he's not high out of his mind, he doesn't go that many rounds usually 2 will be enough to get him tired. But when he's off some? Ooh boy you better prepare yourself. This man is a beast when he pops a pill, you'll be so exhausted by the time he's finished. Expect around 4-5 rounds with him before he's all out of energy.

T - Toys (Do they have any toys? Are they willing to use any?)

I don't think he has that many to be frank, at most he has a vibrator or two, maybe a cock ring if you wanna be bold. I think he's so cocky and confident about his skills that he finds them to be unnecessary. Sometimes if you're having trouble cumming he��ll take one out and use it on you, but it always gets out of hand due to the fact that he wants to see you squirt from the toy. “Cmon baby, I know you can do it. Don't you wanna make me happy? I know it'll feel so good for you so just relax and squirt all over this toy”

U - Unfair (Do they tease you? How unfair are they in the bedroom?)

I fear this man is the biggest teaser throughout the whole show. He'd find a way to tease you about anything and everything. In the bedroom you are not getting a MOMENT of peace. This man will edge you and overstimulate you all in the same night. He’ll find a way to tease you about the noises you make, saying “Aww baby, you're being so loud! Am I making you feel that good? Don't be shy, you can admit that I'm the best at making you cum.”

V - Volume (How loud are they?)

He's not too loud when it comes to his noises, just occasional growl and grunt. He's definitely into dirty talk though, a lot of it. You'll hear him say stuff like “That's my good bitch, taking my cock up her cunt like the good girl she is. Don't worry baby, I'm gonna make you feel so good you won't know what to do with yourself.”

W - Weird Fact (Self-explanatory)

He's always wanted someone to do a line of coke off his cock while he was hard.

X - X Ray (What’s it looking like in those pants.)

He's about 5’11, a little on the thinner side, but he's still toned. I think he's a lot girthier than he is long, so about 5.7 inches, but his girth makes up for it. His tip color is a deeper pink color, around #E0676B. He has a slight curve down, with a thick vein running down the left side of his shaft.

Y - Yearning (How high is their sex drive? How often do they have sex?)

This man wants to do it with you every day. Not only is it the drugs that get him worked up, but just seeing you looking so damn sexy just being yourself, he could take you anytime anywhere, regardless of who's around.

Z - Zzz (How fast do they fall asleep after sex?)

I feel like he falls asleep very fast. After he's done making sure you're okay, he's slumped. He is not the type to wait for you to sleep first before he does.

(I've cooked with this one guys I cannot even lie. Thank you all sm for the recent support! I truly appreciate all the attention my work has gotten!)

Taglist:

@xera4170

#squid game #squid game smut #squid game 2 #choi su bong #player 230 #thanos #squid game fanfic #squid game fandom

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tom-foolery-incorporated · 2 days ago

Note

Worst option; Optimus walks in on Soundwave and Shockwave with the reader as they're fucking

Like, sure, he knows they're safe now, no issue there

But Soundwave reads his mind and suddenly, Optimus is considerably less safe than before

He's very sorry about his sweaty censor bar thoughts. Soundwave wishes bots and cons alike would stop perving on his S/O, they're married ffs, and tbh he doesn't want to see that. He did not need those images in his head

Bout to go blitzo nuts on this

Soundwave x reader, gender neutral AFAB reader, racially ambiguous, slight Optimus Prime x reader, fingering, size kink, creampie, exhibitionism, voyeurism

Optimus was a guest as strange as that sounds. Him and the Autobots were guests to Megatron and his lackeys as the two sort out this whole ordeal.

The Autobots kidnapped you with the best intentions. You were cooped up in Shockwave’s lab by yourself. How could Mirage not be led to believe you were one of the sick scientist’s test subjects? Your kicking and screaming was strange but surely that must just be the trauma from what you went through!

The way you begged to be let back to your husbands surely must just be some form of Stockholm syndrome or perhaps some sort of meddling inside of your mind done by Soundwave?

Wait.

Husbands?

The whole ordeal turned from the Autobots feeling heroic in rescuing a sweet human to the horror of realization when Ratchet tested the ring on your finger; spark casing from two different mechs.

Now Optimus had to clean up this entire mess for the sake of the Autobots’ PR as well as trying to deescalate the war further and figure out what to do with Shockwave’s research. Research he caught Wheeljack’s cooling fans blaring over. While Powerglide had Astoria and it was no secret that they were sexually active with each other, actual research on interspecies relationships between Cybertronians and humans was brand new.

What would happen if the greater human population heard word of this? Cybertronians sexual deviants who only came to earth to pray on helpless humans? You a traitor to your species and planet to court not one but two Decepticons? The whole thing was a meas that made Optimus’ processor ache.

He wanted nothing more than to visit the showers and wash the day off of his plating then return to his assigned habsuite with his fellow Autobots and plan for another stressful day filled with perverted allegations.

While Optimus’ processor mulled over the travesty that was the WaveWave Husband Scandal, as Bumblebee had named it, he didn’t pay much attention to which door he opened until he was greeted with a sight that would forever be burned into his optics.

Soundwave lounged on a berth with his slick coated spike flopped out of his modesty plate and onto his thigh. You were snug against his frame with your legs spread so wide little was left to the imagination. Two blue metal digits from the servo of the same arm that was supporting your body against Soundwave’s pushed in and out of your squelching hole.

You were so wet Optimus wasn’t sure if the human body was capable of safely producing fluids to such a capacity until he saw the ring of pink all too familiar fluid leak around Soundwave’s digits. Soundwave was fucking his own release back into your pretty little hole.

“Your performance was excellent,” Soundwave cooed into your ear. His mask was slipped away into his helm so he could lay soft kisses across your face and torso.

“Please!” You cried with your head thrown back.

“I will keep you stretched for Shockwave’s return,” Soundwave groaned before biting into your side.

You whined out in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

“Too much.” Despite how pained you sounded you humped Soundwave’s fingers as they dipped and swam around in your thoroughly used hole.

You were beautiful.

Optimus understood the appeal of humans and understood why so many of the Autobots were now interested in pursuing interspecies relationships much like Powerglide. Humans were so small and soft. Cute fuzzy bodies that look like that could barely handle being spiked down by a minibot. But seeing this copulation between Cybertronian and human right before him, Optimus couldn’t help the greedy thoughts that pushed aside his stressful day and replaced it with images of you stretched beyond belief and begging for his overload.

“We were so worried,” Soundwave purred giving you a harsh thrust of his fingers. “We were led to believe you were offlined by a fellow Decepticon or by the Autobots.”

Optimus would never. He would never lay a finger on your precious head. Not when you continued to make such cute noises. Please keep sounding like that while he pushes his spike to the base inside you. Your soft stomach extending to make room for such a large intrusion. Optimus imaged laying his servo over your torso like a blanket and feeling how he shifted the insides of your body with his cock.

“I was so scared,” you whined grabbing onto whatever part of Soundwave you could.

Scared? Of the Autobots? Optimus felt a sharp twinge in his spark at the idea. He never wanted to scare you. He never wanted to see any human hurt or scared by his kind. Optimus only wanted to see your face smiling up at him as you shiver in delight through your orgasm. Your own juices gushing like they are now but mixed with his own release instead of-

Suddenly a thought that wasn’t his own permeated through Optimus’ mind. A feeling of pure rage and unadulterated lust for violence.

His panicked optics made contact with the glaring red of Soundwave’s visor.

The mech pulled you closer to his frame and sat up straight bringing his other servo to cover your nude form.

“Prime,” the way Soundwave growl echoed in his helm made Optimus’ battle protocols twitch in preparation for a confrontation.

You still remained unaware of the psychic confrontation happening before you. Your hips still pushed and gyrated against Soundwave’s fingers like it was the only movement you knew.

The leader of the Autobots put his servos up in a calming motion as he backed away hoping you wouldn’t turn and be frightened by his presence.

As gently as a 20 foot mech could, Optimus backed out of the habsuite letting the metal door slip closed with an electric hum.

The noise made you perk up believing Shockwave had returned but you were only met with an empty room where your other lover’s purple form should have been.

“Wha-“ you were cut off by Soundwave trailing his glossa up your chest.

“Nothing to worry about,” Soundwave mumbled between kisses to your skin. He rubbed the spongy spot at the top of your vaginal walls making you buck your hips and moan out his name.

You had been through enough involving the Autobots. All Soundwave wanted for you was to have you writhing in desperate pleasure.

#transformers #soundwave x reader #optimus prime x reader #valveplug #valveplug x reader #optimus prime #soundwave #transformers x reader #transformers x reader valveplug #optimus prime valveplug #soundwave valveplug

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ellecdc · 5 hours ago

Text

always there

prompt from @unstablereader: What about alpha!Barty and omega!Treasure where he's been helping her with heats as friends do, but then another alpha actually takes interest in her and they both kind of flip out. Reader has a bit of a meltdown because "that's not HER alpha" and Barty gets pissed because "that's MY omega"

alpha!Barty Crouch Jr x omega!reader who already has an alpha [1.9k words]

CW: fem!reader, omegaverse, marking/claiming, speaking of heat cycles, scenting, brief angst, all fluff

Anyone from the outside looking in probably would have thought Barty was looking at you rather predatorily. And to some extent he might have been, but it was only because he was worried about you.

Dorcas’ birthday had fallen on a Friday and she was very much looking forward to throwing a party the day-of instead of “the day after when the novelty of growing older and wiser has worn off.”

The beginning of your heat cycle started on Saturday.

Barty had been keeping religious track of your cycle for years; he had been ever since you first presented back at school. Too young to be marked or claimed by an alpha of your own, Barty has been able to help you through your heats; whatever you needed. Whether it was scenting, feeling secure in the presence of an alpha who promised to shield you from any unwanted attention, or a knot, Barty was there.

He’d always be there.

Which is why he had shown up to your flat the morning of the party and asked if you didn’t think you ought to stay home tonight.

“She’s really looking forward to it, though.” You’d said of Dorcas who, was indeed looking forward to celebrating her birthday day-of with all of her friends, and would have been more than understanding of your absence.

The day before your heat wasn't always too bad. Sometimes you experienced a fever, but not always. Sometimes you were anxious or fidgety, but not always. But your scent was certainly stronger (especially to alphas with a certain proclivity to it), and Barty worried about you.

Generally, you could manage to keep your normal routine the day before your heat.

Normal routine being school, work, and the ability to bathe, feed and clean up after yourself.

Barty did not think that extended to entertaining a large group of people - many of which would likely be Gryffindors seeing as Dorcas had gone and shacked up with one - for an entire evening.

He told you as much.

You pulled your lips between your teeth as you considered Barty’s words, fiddling with the hem of the jumper of his you were currently wearing; yet another sign of your incoming heat.

Suddenly, you looked up at him. “You’ll be there, though. Right?”

Barty smiled immediately. “I’ll be there, treasure. By your side, of course.”

Something about the way he spoke to you had you folding yourself into his chest, a very welcome change indeed, and inhaling deeply. He held you tighter in response.

”And can I borrow your Guns ‘n Rose’s t-shirt?”

You barely had the question out before Barty was agreeing. “Yes, you can borrow my Guns ‘n Rose’s t-shirt. That’s what this was really about, hm? I’m just an extra closet for you.” He teased.

You giggled into his chest before pulling back to look up at him. You weren’t flushed yet, your eyes were bright and alert, and he would be there.

He would always be there.

”Okay fine you can go to the party.” He ‘relented’ theatrically, earning him a cackling laugh in response.

”How very magnanimous of you.”

He flashed you a boastful smirk. “That’s me; Barty the Great.”

“Wear the shirt today please?” You called after him as he turned to leave instead of gracing him with a response. That was fine, he already knew you thought he was great.

So, yeah. He wore his beloved Guns ‘n Roses t-shirt all day, making sure to even work up a light sweat so that his scent blanketed you tighter, and he met you before the party so that the two of you could go together.

“So, you’re telling me there’s nothing I can do to convince you to stay in tonight?” He asked as he lounged lazily on your bed whilst you got ready for the party.

“Why do you keep trying to squirrel me away?” You laughed as you hiked up a pair of trousers over your hips.

Barty scoffed and held out a Rubik’s cube that he’d solved, scrambled, solved, and scrambled again whilst you changed as if you’d said something barmy. “‘Cause I want you all to myself, obviously?”

”Obviously.” You drawled back at him, pulling his your shirt over your head.

“You know, Tres, I think the question should be less why I keep trying to squirrel you away and why you’re so hellbent on going.” He retorted, moving to sit up properly and toss the Rubik’s cube over his shoulder unceremoniously.

“Because if I stay home, you’ll stay with me. Yeah?” You asked plainly, moving to stand in front of Barty with your hands on your hips and a displeased pout on your lips that Barty itched to boop with his finger but refrained.

“‘Course.”

Your lips pursed. “‘Course. And then two of us will be missing from Dorcas’ party.”

“Oh my gods this keeps coming back to Dorcas’ party.” He let out with a groan before falling back spread eagle on your bed.

“Get up. We’re leaving.” You called over your shoulder as you strutted out of your room.

So you left.

And you went to Dorcas’ party.

So, yeah. Barty was leaning against the wall of (Marlene &) Dorcas’ flat pretending to listen to whatever Regulus’ dumb boyfriend was so excited about as he watched you rather predatorily.

“Barty, you’re being terribly rude.” Regulus hissed, finally managing to encourage Barty’s eyes from you.

”Yeah? You’ll have to bring it up with management.” He drawled in a bored manner, smirking at the flash of indignance in Regulus’ eyes.

And then he heard the pitch of your voice raise higher and his sights were back on you.

Back on you, and Caradoc Dearborn (if Barty wasn’t mistaken - he never did bother learning all of the Gryffindor’s names) as you shifted your weight between your feet.

“You must be close though, yeah? You smell amazing.” He could hear the bloke say as he flashed you a charming smile.

Barty wanted to punch the teeth right out of his mouth.

“Oh, look at that.” James commented casually. “Think this might be the year Y/N finds an alpha of her own?”

She has an alpha of her own, Barty nearly growled before the blood drained from his face.

Except you didn’t have an alpha of your own - not in any way that would matter to Caradoc or any other alpha who might recognise the slightly sweeter smell coming from you tonight.

Maybe not even in any way that would matter to you.

But shit, Barty was yours.

He was your friend, your Barty, your alpha; whatever you needed him to be he’d be it.

And then your eyes met his.

And your lips parted.

And Barty would always be there.

So he quirked his eyebrow at you - do you need me?

Your lips closed and pressed into a straight line - help.

He’s pretty sure he stepped on James’ shoe and spilled some of Regulus’ drink on him as he brushed past the pair, but Barty’s mind was singular and zeroed in.

“Need a refill, Tres?” He asked lowly, keeping his gaze on Caradoc as he sidled up behind you.

“I was just about to offer her one myself.” Caradoc offered with another toothy grin, though the smile didn’t seem to meet his eyes as he met Barty’s gaze.

“She’s fine.”

“Do you speak for her, mate?” Caradoc asked as he leaned against the door frame with an ease he clearly didn’t feel if the tendons in his arms told Barty anything.

“What exactly is it you came to ask her, mate?” Barty asked then, watching Caradoc’s eyes shift between his and yours before he straightened.

“I figured a pretty little omega like herself might need an alpha.” He responded simply.

“I already have one…” You mumbled, and whilst Caradoc spoke over you, causing him to miss this key detail, Barty sure didn’t.

“I was simply here to offer my services.” He carried on chippily.

“She isn’t a commodity.” Barty spat before looking down as you instinctively leaned into him. “Do you want his help, treasure?”

You quickly shook your head and one of your hands wound itself into the fabric of his shirt. He covered your hand with his.

“No.” You managed to squeak.

Caradoc tilted his head curiously at you. “No? Not even this close to a heat?”

“I’m surprised you even managed to pick that up with how much she smells like me, Dearborn.” Barty spat then.

“I don’t see a mark on her, Junior, so I sort of figured it was fair play.”

“I have an Alpha…” You tried again, squaring your shoulders. “I’ve always had an alpha.”

Caradoc all but sneered at you. “No mark means no bond.”

A sardonic smile took over Barty’s face as he pushed the hair away from your shoulder, slowly bending at the waist to bring his mouth to your neck all whilst maintaining eye contact with Caradoc.

His lips ghosted the expanse of skin where your scent was the strongest, and Barty found himself nearly drunk off it. Heart a riot within his chest; Barty wondered if the fluttering of your pulse beneath his lips would match the cadence of his own.

“What do you say, Tres?” He murmured, breath fanning across your skin as he watched Caradoc’s eyes narrow and jaw twitch. He could believe he was really doing this.

“Please.” Was your immediate response.

His serious facade almost fell completely when you surprised a breathy chuckle out of him.

“A simple yes or no would have sufficed, sweetheart.” He said before he pressed a delicate kiss to the space, causing you to nod your head in an undeniable yes. “But… since you asked so nicely.”

And he latched onto your scent point and bit down; hard.

Caradoc - apparently no longer interested in getting you that drink - was long gone by the time Barty opened his eyes again and pulled off of you, licking the wound once before leaning back to admire his work; memorialized in your skin, two crescent moons. Him.

You turned to look at him with tears in your eyes.

His stomach fell out of his arse.

“Treasure? Hey, Y/N. What- are you okay?” He rapid fired, and then you were in his arms, kissing him everywhere you could reach.

“Thank you. Oh my god. Thank you.” You cried, grabbing his face between your hands and pulling him in for a deep, lingering kiss.

Barty mumbled a question into your mouth until you finally relented your (much appreciated) assault on his lips. “What are you thanking me for?”

You turned bashful. Barty loved it.

Barty loved you.

“Claiming me.” You admitted shyly. “I-... I realised I…I don’t want anyone else. I don’t want any alpha.”

You looked at him as though you’d just been given the gift of sight; finally seeing him clearly for the very first time.

“I just want you.”

“I’m yours, treasure.” Barty vowed, lowering his forehead to yours. “I’m all yours.”

128 notes · View notes

hyper-fixates · 1 day ago

Text

Visions of a Life

Old Man!Logan x AFAB!reader (no pronouns/gendered language).

Explicit content (18+)

Word count: 5.7k

Tags/warnings: age-gap due to logan’s mutation (reader’s age not specified), established relationship, mutant!reader, not canon-compliant, fluff, domesticity, explicit language, dry humping, brief unprotected sex, angst (and i’m not joking), soft!logan, groping, a few uses of “baby”, mentions & allusions to death (no one dies tho), descriptions of blood (kindly let me know if anything was missed!).

Summary: What does an animal do when he’s sick? He goes away to die.

Notes: this was supposed to take a different route, but it just didn’t feel right as i went along…forgive me for being a bit of a LIAR 🙃

The dry Texas heat faded with each kilometre you travelled. The desert slowly turned into rangelands, and the rangelands eventually became the frozen, snow-covered ground of Alberta.

The trip was only a couple days, and the stark change in weather almost made your bones nearly seize and shatter when you stepped out of the truck and were met with the sharp winter wind.

The cold definitely made Logan’s bones ache more than they already do.

Not even his red flannel and jean jacket can offset the negative temperature in the slightest.

“Hm…wow. Cute,” you say in succession, taking a few slow steps toward the quaint cabin.

It’s all dark, smooth wood that stands out amongst the bare, white birch trees and blue spruces that are covered in a light dusting of this morning’s snow.

The second thing you notice is the quiet.

It’s so quiet. No neighbours, no highways—just silence, and the slight rustling of the wind through the tree branches.

You’re deep in the bush, a spot near the south-west border that gives a partial view of the Rockies.

“Grab your bag,” Logan says as he shuts his door, the sound cutting violently through the still air.

It’s almost eerily quiet. No chirping birds, no chittering squirrels, no howling wolves in the distance. Just you and Logan. Isolated.

It’s everything he’s been yearning for since living in Mexico and spending more than enough time working in El Paso.

It’s what he’s been missing desperately ever since living down south—Alberta—his real home. Yet it’s a place that holds no significance to you.

“Yes, sir,” you remark with a lazy, mocking salute of your hand, smirking at how Logan glares at you harmlessly as he walks by you to the cabin.

Logan decided it’s time. Time to come back. Time to be realistic about your future, or lack of, together.

He decided that he’s done fighting himself, and that there’s nothing left for either of you in Mexico even if it’s all you’ve come to know.

He refused to let himself die in the desert and leave you with nothing but sand. There was no comfort there. No semblance of a promise.

The light snow crunches under your steps back to the truck, your breath swirling in small clouds around you. You yank your bag out from the backseat and slam the door as Logan did, hearing the sound echo into the wind before dissipating into nothing.

If you focused heard enough, you could probably hear your heartbeat. That’s how silent it is.

“Creepy,” you mumble to yourself as you follow the imprints of Logan’s footsteps back to the cabin.

You go up the few rickety stairs, stomping your shoes clean on the equally rickety deck, and open the squeaky door.

It’s definitely not a space that’s meant for more than two people.

It’s one level, open concept, and surely not heated by a furnace. The living room is directly to the left—you’re basically already standing in it—and a small kitchen is off to the right. The single bedroom straight ahead is the only room besides the bathroom that’s hidden behind walls and a door.

And that’s it. Simple. Efficient. No walls, no doors, save for the bedroom and bathroom. It’s surprisingly intimate.

“Please tell me there’s heat,” you lament, watching Logan dust off the few surfaces of fixtures and furniture as you toe off your wet shoes.

Logan gives you a look. “There’s a fireplace.” He gestures to the barren, ash-filled pit that sits at the bottom of the chimney in the corner of the room.

Above it, a mantle with a little T.V. “Cable?” You wonder aloud. This place is already more luxurious than what you had in Mexico, but at least in Mexico you didn’t have to worry about freezing to death in your sleep.

Logan limps along to the bedroom with his bag. “Satellite.”

You suck your tongue against your teeth, following Logan to the bedroom. When you step through the doorway, you almost cackle.

“Oh for fucks sake. We are never gonna fucking fit on that, Logan. Oh my God,” you moan in disbelief at the size of the bed. “You’re probably not even gonna fit on it.” Your voice pitches a little in exasperation.

The mattress was maybe a twin. Maybe. It’s propped up on a thin metal frame that creaks and groans as you experimentally lean forward on your hands and bear some weight on it.

“I do.” He tosses both your bags on the outdated armchair in the corner of the room.

Your entire lives are in those bags. You only brought what you needed and what could fit. There wasn’t much to bring along from Mexico besides clothes and the necessary toiletries anyway. Anything else can be found and replaced back in town if needed.

He steps back to the bed next to you. “Relax. There’s always the couch,” he points out. “We don’t have to sleep together.”

You have never slept apart—he knows that—and that’s definitely not going to start now. This time is precious.

You briefly recall the worn couch sitting in the middle of the living room in front of the fireplace: it’s a brown and red plaid pattern, probably from the 80s, and four cushions long.

This cabin was stuck in time just as much as Logan likes to say he is.

“Help me grab some wood to get a fire going,” he says, giving the top of your head a chaste kiss. “It’s supposed to snow again tonight.” He slips past you out the doorway, the warm, lingering touch of his hand on your shoulder sends a shiver through your body.

You saw a decent stack of pre-cut logs piled in the other corner of the living room when you came in, and you wonder who’s been taking care of things here while Logan’s been down south.

The wood looked fresh, but the dust on the coffee table and window ledges suggests no one’s been here for months.

You figure that dust is the least of Logan’s worries right now.

━━━━

The fire crackles and pops softly, the bright light from the T.V. illuminating the dark room as you comfortably watch the Flames game horizontally—on Logan—from the outdated couch.

The warmth from the flickering orange blaze in the chimney blankets you both, almost trying to melt you together like wax.

Logan lies on his back, legs spread to accommodate your body as you lay stomach-to-stomach, using his chest as a pillow while he uses the well-worn armrest as his.

It’s the middle of the second period and the game is tied 2-2. You can feel yourself drifting in and out of sleep even though the analog bird clock hung next to the T.V. shows it’s barely 11 p.m.

You know Logan isn’t asleep because he’s tracing a finger slowly up and down your spine. That’s what’s putting you to sleep, but the obnoxious ads pull you back into consciousness when the game cuts to commercial each time.

Despite the volume of the T.V., you can still hear the rattling in Logan’s lungs with each breath he takes.

The ear that’s pressed against his chest picks it up easily; it’s otherwise undetectable if you aren’t right up against him.

You don’t want to forget that this isn’t, in fact, a fun little vacation that you’ll both return to Mexico from. This is where Logan will spend the rest of his days with you. There is no going back to Mexico, no future anywhere but here within these walls.

Logan will die here. Like he wants to—at home, with you, surrounded by snow.

“Are you tired?” You say quietly. Your eyes aren’t even open as you ask.

A small chuckle makes your head vibrate. “I’m always tired,” he rasps, his voice rumbling deeply in his chest against your ear.

“Want me to put you to sleep?” You offer, thumbing the material of his flannel, eyes still closed.

He shifts, adjusting his neck. “No. I’m fine,” he explains, and you’re curious to see if he will fall asleep as easy as you can make him.

All it takes is a touch of a finger and a whispered command for him to slip into near unbreakable unconsciousness that lasts throughout the night.

You hum. “If you need it, just wake me if I’m asleep,” you reassure.

Almost every night in Mexico you’d knock him out cold, only you didn’t have to use a punch to do so. The press of your finger against his temple was enough. If he was in better health maybe it would take a bit more concentration and demanding, but it’s quick, nearly effortless.

Somnous is all you need to say—sleep. And his body can’t resist the surge of the pseudo-sedative that comes from within you.

━━━━

A chill that you’ve never felt before wakes you. It’s one that can only come with negative temperatures seeping back into the cabin.

Your body tenses and you peel your eyes open. The faint glow of red coals pulsing in front of you quickly tells you that no one made it off the couch last night, that no one slept on that sad excuse of a bed in the next room.

You and Logan are right where you left each other.

Logan breathes steadily under you, that rattling in his lungs still present even in sleep. It never wavers. It will never go away.

You try to carefully peel yourself off of him, stifling a groan as your limbs stretch and twist for the first time in hours. The tightness in your shoulders makes you clench your teeth.

A few pops and cracks release from your joints, and then you’re free from Logan’s warmth. From the looks of it, he seems comfortable, but you know he’s going to complain about his back and neck as soon as he wakes up.

Thankfully, you’ll help him with that, just like his sleep. Just like you do with everything else.

Remedium, you’ll mutter as your fingers trace along his temple. Relief.

You can fix the superficial—a sore neck, a headache—but you can’t fix something that’s as embedded and chronic as what’s killing him.

You’re the cure. The cure for everything except whatever is festering inside him. He says it’s the adamantium, that it’s poisoning him, but you can’t say for sure.

The early morning sun, all pinks and oranges, shines brightly through the large windows around the cabin. Then you see the snow falling.

You tip-toe to the window across from the couch. It’s been snowing since 3 a.m., but you weren’t awake to see it start.

Thick, fluffy snowflakes wisp around in the light wind and you lean closer to the window to get a better look at the scene outside.

You arrived late in the afternoon yesterday, missing the morning snow that blanketed the ground and decorated the trees.

Logan’s seen many winters come and go, and you’ll see just as many after he’s gone. Well, maybe not as many.

A deep groan fills your ears. “Ah—fuck,” Logan growls, pulling himself to sit up from the couch.

You skip excitedly over to him, bending down to cradle his head in your hands and press your thumbs against each temple, your lips meeting the top of his head in a brief kiss.

“Remedium,” you whisper into his hair, and he makes a satisfied sound in response as his body adjusts and fixes itself.

You move down to kiss his forehead, ruffling a hand through his bushy grey hair before pulling away and going back to the window to watch the snow spiral and churn in random shapes and patterns.

A grumbled “thanks” is heard over your footsteps. He’s probably not even fully awake yet.

“Look at the snow. Look,” you say in awe when you hear him shuffling along the creaky floor behind you.

It doesn’t look like anything special to Logan. He’s seen every type of snow, every type of storm Alberta has to throw his way; however, this may be the most mundane snowfall he’s seen that he can remember.

“What about it?” He says. He doesn’t know what’s got you so excitable.

You look at him over your shoulder. “I’ve never seen a snowfall before,” you explain. “The snowflakes are so fat,” you chuckle as he comes to rest a hand on your lower back, peeking through the window over your shoulder at the snow dancing in the wind.

“Mhm, it’s nice.” He still doesn’t get it. “Go get ready. There’s more wood coming in a bit,” he dismisses with a gentle kiss to your cheek, dense beard poking into the plush skin.

He goes to the bedroom. You should follow, but you keep watching the snow.

In the moment, you don’t realize that while this is your first snowfall, it’s probably Logan’s last.

━━━━

The man who brings the firewood is also the one who’s been “looking after” the cabin for Logan.

They’ve known each other for years, decades, and the man has been doing monthly check-in’s despite Logan not even being in the country.

Logan muttered something about cage fighting, explaining how he knows the man and the bar he owns in town.

You make a face, one filled with curiosity and confusion. “Cage fighting?”

“It was a long time ago,” he defends, tossing the last logs onto the now vast pile in the living room. You now understand why the room is as big as it is.

“Still keeping secrets, huh?” You joke, wiping your hands on your sweater.

A new fire burns strong in the chimney, preparing the cabin for the wind storm that’s meant to hit in a few hours.

“It’s not important.” Logan unbuttons his flannel—today it’s a dark red one; truly Canadian—and strips to his white tank-top underneath.

It’s almost jarring to see him in anything other than a white dress shirt and blazer.

He throws the flannel on the back of the couch, overheated from the fire and throwing logs. A vicious cough catches in his throat for an exhale or two before it finds its way out.

“You okay?” You ask calmly, walking up to him and rubbing a hand up and down his bicep. His skin clammy and damp from sweat.

“I’m fine.” Another aggressive cough. “I’m fine,” he emphasizes, mostly to reassure himself.

You both know he’s not okay. That’s why you’re here, after all. But you can’t stop yourself from asking.

━━━━

The wind storm knocked out the power.

The raging fire will probably be your only source of light for the rest of the night and into the morning.

So, without power, there’s not much to do. But, you and Logan sit on the floor with him resting against the front of the couch. You sit between his legs, feeling the heat of him on your back while you watch his arms reach over and around you to set various sized coins on the coffee table to entertain—and educate, as he would say—you.

“That one’s so big,” you point out, reaching for the gold coin.

Logan wants to make a joke so badly, but he settles for a small smile at what little he can see of your perplexed expression from the side, resting his chin on your shoulder every couple minutes and occasionally pressing little kisses to your neck and jaw just to remind himself you’re actually here.

You pick up the gold coin and turn it over in between your fingers, watching it shine in the firelight.

The bird on the face of the coin is unfamiliar, and it’s dated “2000” on the back below the Queen’s face.

“It’s a loon,” Logan clarifies. “One dollar.”

“It’s pretty.”

“We call it a ‘loonie’,” he explains, “and this is a toonie.” He picks up the other large coin, one that’s silver with a gold center.

You take it from him. “A polar bear?” You observe the face of the coin. “There’s polar bears in Canada?” You turn your attention to him, nose almost grazing his.

“You…didn’t know that?”

“Why would I know that?”

Logan chuckles, snaking an arm around your waist. “Well. It’s where most of the population lives,” he defends, his hazel eyes almost looking as confused as yours.

“Good to know,” you mutter, placing the coin back on the table.

He shakes his head. “Quarter, nickel, penny, dime.” Logan identifies the rest of the coins for you, pointing to each from biggest to smallest.

“The dimes are cute.” You push the thin, silver coin around on the table.

His tattered wallet sits on the corner by your arm, and something peeks out from the bill slot that you paid no mind to before.

“You have Canadian bills?” You ask as you pinch the thing between your thumb and forefinger, snatching it before he could answer or stop you.

You unfold the worn thing with ease, holding it with both hands and expecting to see a historic figure or a bold number printed somewhere, but there’s neither.

The paper is a little thicker than a bank note yet it’s almost the same size, but it has Logan with a young girl plastered on it in black and white.

An old photo, folded up and kept in his wallet as a reminder of something, or someone.

“Who’s that?” You question, analyzing the picture with a seizing heart.

Logan doesn’t answer right away, but he doesn’t move to take the picture from your hands.

It’s him, decades younger, giving the young girl a piggyback. An uncharacteristic smile on his face that you’ve never seen before while the girl peeks her head out beside his for the photo.

“Marie. She was a kid I, uh, helped, I guess.” The deep timbre of his voice is enough to tell you that he’s suddenly forlorn. “One of Charles’ students.”

“You’re so…young,” you consider quietly, eyes filling with adoration and fondness at the boyish Wolverine in your hand.

You never knew what Logan looked like in his younger years, and it never occurred to you to be curious about that. You’ve grown so used to your Logan that nothing before all this mattered much to you.

Still, there was someone else who got to experience the younger, more spirited version of Logan that only exists in pictures now, and you long to have been that lucky someone just to be able to have had more time with him.

But this is your Logan; scarred, aching, dying. This Logan was meant to be yours.

The Logan that stares at you from the wrinkled picture is barely recognizable against the one behind you, yet he’s still somehow the same. It’s like seeing a ghost after saying you don’t believe in them: you don’t really know how to explain it.

“And your hair is…” You squint at the photo, as if that will help you to find the right word to describe the quaffed points peaking from his head.

“Fucking ridiculous?” He finishes.

You laugh. “Well, I was maybe gonna say majestic. Or even sublime,” you correct.

The photo is creased along the edges and down the middle from being continuously opened and refolded, and you wonder how old it is—if it’s older than you.

“Yeah, well, that was a long time ago,” he exhales, stealing the photo from your fingers and folding it back up, making sure to bury it completely back in the wallet this time.

“Where is she now?” You know you shouldn’t ask but the curiosity is clawing at you. What you know of Logan’s past is extremely limited, but there’s a reason for that. You’re hoping he can at least give you this.

Logan’s shoulders grow taut. He debates lying, but he doesn’t. “Dead.”

━━━━

“Logan?”

No answer.

“Logan,” you say more firmly.

No answer.

“James,” you throw at him, watching his head quirk to meet your voice.

“What?” He barks, quickly averting his attention back to whatever holds his attention in his lap.

You hesitate in the bedroom doorway, afraid of what you might see if you take another step, but you already know what it’s going to be. It was only a matter of time before Logan fell back into himself.

Logan sits on the creaky, old bed with his back to you, a tremble in his shoulders that no one else besides you would notice. He hates that you notice.

You lightly tiptoe around the bed and drop into a squat between his legs, resting a hand on his knee.

Three adamantium claws occupy the space between you, blood slowly dripping from his knuckles and staining the wood floor. His eyes stay on the claws, but you keep your gaze on his face anyway.

His fist shakes, either from the pain of pulling his claws out or the atrophying muscles.

“There’s no reason to keep doing that…that’s not what we came here for,” you gently scold, watching him take a shaky breath while you try to control your own.

You came here to escape the pain, even if you’ll inevitably face something far worse down the road.

He does this when he feels helpless. You don’t know what it achieves, but he seems to believe it does something other than marring his skin even more and making his forearm burn with white-hot pain from metal sliding against his aged tendons and ligaments.

“Put them away. Please,” you encourage, squeezing his knee comfortingly.

Logan closes his eyes. He doesn’t nod or say anything as the claws retract back into his skin, albeit at a snails pace. You worry that one day they’ll just get stuck in or out forever.

You can’t influence his body to physically repair itself or heal faster—you can only provide a barrier to the pain while it subsides on its own.

You stand, hand reaching for his temple to whisper the magic word like always, but Logan’s bloodied fingers wrap around your wrist.

His eyes finally meet yours. “No. Leave it,” he dismisses, sliding his hand up into yours and smearing the warm blood between your joined palms and linked fingers.

It’s futile to argue against him, so you let him have this; the pain he hasn’t been able to shake for years, the pain you can’t entirely stifle and fade, the pain he would never wish upon anyone, the pain he will only escape in death.

━━━━

“I can let you go,” you cry softly.

He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger when he feels your hot tears fall against his bare chest one after the other.

It’s one of those mornings—where everything just hits you out of nowhere. One of those times where reality has set in.

Logan doesn’t say anything because he knows there’s nothing he can say to comfort you. He will die. And nothing can change that.

You lie on him, your cheek to the middle of his chest, unable to stop the silent, persistent tears.

The rickety bed, in fact, holds both of you, and a soft cotton blanket does little to save you from the frigid morning air that has snuck into the cabin yet again.

“I can’t do it,” you whimper quietly, shaking your head against him. “I can’t.”

He wraps both arms around you tightly, squeezing around your shoulders so snuggly that your lips form one of those sad, downturned smiles you make when you’re overwhelmed—happy or sad.

“We don’t really have a choice, baby,” he mutters against your head.

A gentle finger traces along the textured, angry scars over his bicep. There’s one that’s older, almost entirely white from the trauma to the skin. A small, round one sits directly above it—most likely from a bullet—and you know it’s more recent from how raised and pink it is.

It feels wrong to have Logan comforting you over his death when it’s him who will be the one dying, but he hasn’t shown any panic or sadness over it.

He’s ready to die. For some reason, that hurts you more.

Maybe he will make it long enough to see the first flowers of spring; those that are strong enough to brave the Canadian frost.

Maybe, somehow, he will get better. Heal himself from the inside out.

Maybe he won’t end up buried underneath the birch trees.

━━━━

You both barely left the bed today.

You let each other mourn, and Logan didn’t protest. He let you take the time to process what you were feeling. It felt good for him, too.

He reluctantly had to get out of bed to stoke the fire a few times, and now he’s gone to do so again before you call it a night. An early night. You’re worn out. From crying, from feeling, from everything.

The wind has picked up again, howling and whipping harshly against the cabin. It’s supposed to snow in a few hours, but you don’t feel excited for it like you did a few days ago.

“That should burn all night,” Logan says as he comes back in the room.

You shuffle over on the bed for him. You don’t really fit, but you make it work by half-lying on each other. Either your upper body lays on his chest or his upper body has you almost tucked underneath him while he spoons you.

“Thank you,” you murmur with your eyes already closed, ready to forget about today.

The bed frame groans as Logan shuffles in beside you, slipping an arm around your midsection to pull you to tight against him.

Despite the cold, and the fact that you both should definitely be wearing fleece pyjamas or something, you’re both almost entirely bare. It’s just habit. You usually opt to wear one of his tank tops while he just keeps his briefs. It’s familiar. It’s comforting. The skin-to-skin reminds you both that you’re real.

Tonight, however, you chose his white t-shirt. As if that will do you any better. Logan runs fairly hot on his own, so you ultimately trust him to keep you warm either way.

He nestles into you, curling his body around yours. He slots a leg between your own and situates you so that your ass is pressed against his front. You know it doesn’t mean what you think it does, but you can’t help yourself from jokingly wiggling back and forth against him a few times just for fun—just to lighten the solemn mood.

Logan kisses your shoulder, the hand around your midsection squeezing the flesh of your stomach through the shirt affectionately while pushing you tighter against him.

“Yeah, yeah. Get some sleep,” he dismisses. He knows you’re just fucking with him.

You giggle quietly, interlacing your fingers with the ones he has against your stomach and turning to look over your shoulder at him. “Love you.”

His face softens. “Love you.”

You pucker your lips dramatically. He gives you an eager kiss, placing small pecks gently down along your cheek and jaw when you break away to smile.

Logan will never deny you of his attention when you ask for it.

━━━━

Something pushes you out of a heavy sleep. You figure it was maybe the wind or a dream, but you feel it again. Something literally pushes you.

You blink a few times, trying to wake yourself up. Logan’s arm is still thrown around you, but it’s now fallen down over your hip. The weight of it keeps you in place.

Another push.

Logan’s hips shove against your ass. You furrow your brows.

You know he’s sleeping without needing to look or ask, so what the fuck is he doing—

A more delicate thrust rolls against you this time, then you realize. “Oh, Jesus Christ,” you sigh.

“Logan.” You poke his thigh. No response.

“Logan,” you growl, reaching back and pushing a hand against his firm stomach to shake him a bit.

A series of grunts and groans are his response. He pulls back from you a little, hand tightening against your hip.

“Mm. What?” He mumbles, eyes still closed.

“Stop trying to fuck me in your sleep,” you hiss through a breath, repositioning yourself against him.

“I’m not,” he says, nuzzling up to your back and ass again, half-asleep.

You roll your eyes even though he can’t see it. “Yes, you are,” you counter.

It’s probably just some sex dream that got him a little too excited. The thought makes you smile.

It has, in fact, been longer than usual since you’ve fucked, the last time being in the truck when you pulled over at a rest stop in Montana, and you wonder if he’s starting to feel the effects of that.

By the time you reached Montana, you were both antsy and restless. The days, and even nights, were naturally spent just sitting in the truck for hours on end with nothing to do—no way to stimulate or tire your bodies.

The final night in the state was the breaking point. You had unburned, pent-up energy and cramping muscles that needed to be worn out if you wanted to survive the last day on the road before you got to the border.

So you pulled over and fucked in the passenger seat.

Logan let you bounce on his cock until the lactic acid in your thighs made you cry out in pain and you physically couldn’t ride him anymore.

He made you drag it out—for both of your sakes. He wanted your hearts to pump hard and your lungs to sting with each inhale. He wanted your bodies to be fucked into a state of relaxation afterwards.

So, he didn’t help you ride him like he usually does. He didn’t help guide you by your hips up and down his cock. He let you do it all by yourself while he licked and sucked over your collarbones and teased your clit with his fingers.

You both came hard, laughing at the fogged-up windows while cleaning yourselves up with those rough, brown napkins everyone has in their glove compartment for some reason.

Then you continued on, satisfied.

All of this has kind of thrown off your sense of normality. Sex went with that. It’s hard to be horny when you’re sad all the time.

You suppose you don’t need to wonder if he’s feeling the effects of no sex because you’re feeling them for him; his hard cock rests in his briefs against your ass, and you debate doing something you know you’re gonna do anyway.

Just like earlier, you circle your ass over him lightly, hopefully just enough for some payback for waking you up. You assume he’ll tell you to knock it off.

“Baby,” he mutters against the back of your neck tiredly, and you can tell he’s in need of a release.

You smirk. “Hm?” You rub harder over him.

He subtly joins in with your movements, rocking in time with you. His cock feels warm and heavy against your ass.

“Good dream?” You ask, a smile evident in your voice.

Logan grabs at the meat of your thigh, measuring his thrusts. “It’s…been a while,” he deflects, but you know that just means he’s in need of an orgasm.

“I know. I’m sorry,” you apologize, swallowing a gasp as he ruts harder.

“Not your fault,” he breathes, too preoccupied with kissing your neck softly. His beard tickles you, grazing against the slope of your neck with each kiss he drags over it.

His broad, warm chest keeps you from drifting off too far. Your cunt pulses and aches from the tease of his cock, undoubtedly soaking your underwear as he rubs along the space that’s just shy of your cunt. This is somehow more erotic than if he was actually fucking himself over your pussy between your thighs.

The bed creaks with his shifting weight, filling the silence in the room as the wind still beats against the cabin.

It’s never mindless, chaotic sex with Logan. Technically, this isn’t even sex.

He always gave you an appropriate fucking. Not too much, not too little. It was always just exactly what you both needed at the time of doing it. This feels no different.

You can feel your underwear sticking to you—it no longer slides with his desperate movements. You’d be content with finishing whatever way Logan wants. These days, you take what you can get.

“Too tired.” For sex, he means. “Just wanna feel you.” He caresses his hand along your thigh appreciatively.

You grab his wandering hand. “That’s okay,” you soothe.

His hips have slowed to a gentle rock, intent on taking a bit of the edge off without wanting to fully commit to chasing an orgasm and needing a clean-up.

Logan isn’t really one to drop everything for sex. Maybe he was like that at some point, but that’s not who he is now.

He’ll gladly blue-ball himself for some sleep. He knows you’re not going anywhere.

You let him feel you up for a bit, and his movements stop altogether after a few gropes to your chest and thighs—purposefully avoiding anything directly below your bellybutton.

He rests behind you tightly, pelvis somehow closer than before. You still throb a little, but the warmth from Logan gradually pulls you back to a state of exhaustion.

━━━━

It’s never been lost on you that you are the only one to have experienced a full, complete relationship with Logan.

You didn’t die, or get killed. You didn’t leave him or grow old. You are the only one to have this moment. The seemingly immortal Wolverine has someone at the end of his life when he thought he never would.

He never expected to be the one to go first. It was always the other way around. That’s how it was always supposed to be.

Yet, there is a spot slowly thawing for him underneath the white birch trees.

here’s the photo reader pulled out of logan’s wallet <3

#wow what a cozy winter fic!!! right gang!!!!#logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #logan howlett x you #xmen x reader #xmen smut #old man logan x reader #old man logan smut #logan howlett fanfiction #marvel smut #hugh jackman x reader

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elysianightsss · 1 day ago

Text

I BURN FOR YOU | PART TWO

You were so immersed in reading when Belle begins to fall in love with the beast that you didn’t even hear the library door slowly creak open…

“Duchess.” Johnny’s thick accent makes you jump a little, your puffy eyes flicking up to meet his. He stood there unsure of himself as he did his best to fake a smile your way. “Is everything alright? You’re up awfully late.”

“As are you.” You raise a brow, a small smirk taking hold.

“I well yes…yes well I-“ what was he going to say? Simon had tasked him to find you when the Duke had knocked on your door a moment ago to check on you and then absolutely lost it when you weren’t there. Or, “your husband is looking for you.”

“Tell him to keep looking. He can find me himself if he needs me so desperately.” You scoff, half laugh at the absurdity of that statement alone. You couldn’t care less if that man was looking for you.

“Um it’s, he’s a little frantic.” Johnny tries to reason with you without letting on how much Simon had panicked that you’d fled. After hearing your cries ring throughout the hallways he couldn’t help but feel guilty coming to your room to apologise only for no one to answer.

“And?” You question, the lack of care so obvious in your voice. Closing your book and placing it on the candle lit end table, you stand. Johnny was unsure of what else to say so he settled for offering his arm like he had when you had first met to escort you to your room.

You had accepted and let the Scotsman lead you out the library and down the hallway where low and behold you ran into the Duke of Manchester himself.

The first thing you notice is how casual he looked. Tucked into black slacks, a sleep shirt with the front untied showing the light brown curls of hair on his chest. His under knee boots clean and still on as well as a dark red cloak with no hood. Maybe a matching set with your robe? A wedding present you didn’t know about perhaps?

“Your Grace.” Johnny had unlinked his arm from yours and bowed to your husband who had a bit of mania colouring his eyes.

“Where have you been?” He spat his tone, of what you could tell, was worry making your eyes widen in surprise.

“The library.” Your voice was much smaller than you’d like. You straightened your stance and fired back much like you had earlier, “What’s it to you?”

“You’re my wife therefore I’m inclined to know of your whereabouts.” He grunted, taking a step closer to you.

“Like this is an actual marriage.” You muttered under your breath but clearly not quiet enough as both Simon and Johnny heard, their gazes burning holes into your head.

“This is an actual marriage. Last I checked not only was my signature on our marriage license but yours as well.” Simon’s large shoulders were squared and tense as he again took another step forward.

“Like I had a choice in the matter! And now I’m stuck in a big old house with a man who doesn’t love me or cherish me or even want me! And in three months I will be all alone, no husband, no children. And again none of it is my choice!” You screech out of breath and panting after shouting in your husband’s face.

Simon’s brows were raised, lips parted in shock, the expression almost had you laughing but in this moment all you could feel was anger. Angry at the position you were in, angry at the man in front of you, angry at yourself for having verbal diarrhoea.

You couldn’t stand it anymore, you stormed passed him finished with the ridiculous conversation. Simon still in shock, let you go.

Waking the next day was humbling, you felt hot to touch and groggy as you stumbled into the morning room sitting down unsteadily to eat your breakfast. Simon watched you with careful and guarded eyes.

Silence once again blanketed the room. You glance over to see his plate full, he had waited for you and if the way he’s tearing into his food said anything he must have been starving. He had never waited for you before.

Shrugging you picked up a fork and begin to eat some of the fresh fruit in front of you, though you only got a few bites in and began to feel sick. Simon mimicked your moves, setting down his cutlery when you did. “What is it?” He casually threw your way, it was impatient with the need to continue eating.

“I’m feeling a little under the weather is all.” You say standing from your seat, Simon once again copies. The chair screeching as it moves when he stands, he almost rushes to you to place his large hands to your forehead and cheek.

He frowns at what he finds, “Johnny!” You flinch at how loud he shouts his voice echoing in the room, Johnny comes running his head peaking into the room with a questionable gaze. “Send for Doctor Garrick immediately.” Johnny’s eyes widen as they flicker to you and Simon’s hands on your face.

You push them away with a shake of your head, “Don’t be dramatic Simon, I’m fine. Some more sleep will send it away.” You stand firm but your husband’s frown deepens.

“I am not dramatic.” He defends, but it sounds like a child arguing. It makes you scoff. Simon raises a brow and brings his hand up to pinch your cheek something that makes you blush. Where had the cold arse of a man gone? Since when did your husband pinch your cheek or make you blush?

You push Simon away, a big push, your hand against his shoulder but he barely moves, doesn’t even flinch. It only hits now how big and muscular your husband is, how strong he is. But it only gives you another reason to be disappointed that he’s not really yours.

“So is that a yes or no for the Doctor?” Johnny asks and before you can argue no, Simon is already saying yes. You simply huff with a roll of your eyes and leave the room.

The Doctor comes and unfortunately for your ego, you’re feeling worse in the evening when the man arrives than you had been at breakfast. He’s a handsome man with kind eyes, he takes your temperature and does some other tests before concluding you’ve over exerted yourself. You’re instantly arguing you haven’t been doing anything that could make that possible. You completely miss the side eye he gives Simon at the implication you haven’t been doing what couples usually do on their honeymoon.

Kyle, which he asks you to call him, goes through other ways this could be possible. Stress being a big factor, at this you fall silent. Simon is hovering in the corner of the cozy room, he had fluffed the pillow on the chair you sat in and lit the fire so it would be warm for you. Even going as far as to fetch you a blanket for extra comfort. You wonder, did your shouting really make him change over night?

“I’d like you to rest and avoid stress. Wouldn’t want you ending up with a cold or worse the flu. Even with medicine making its advances, there wouldn’t be anything I could give you for you to survive those.” Kyle says in an unemotional and practical manner. He bows to you and nods to Simon before leaving. Your eyes drift over to the hulking man stood in the corner, he has a smugness in his eyes but it doesn’t match the worried expression that’s been plastered on his face since you said you felt under the weather this morning.

“So,” you begin awkwardly, it makes Simon step forward closer to where you’re sat in the comfortable arm chair in front of the fireplace. The orange hue flickers over the both of you bathing you in a sweetness. “I suppose if I must avoid stress, I must avoid you hmm?” You joke trying to lighten the mood.

Simon smirks slightly, his hand coming to rest on the edge of the fireplace mantle. “I think it simply means no more fighting me.” He offers his own joke, a small smile pulling at your lips to which he matches. There’s a tension between you two you haven’t felt before, his brown eyes flicker to your lips something that has you instinctively biting your lower lip.

His eyes meet yours and for a moment you believe he’s going to leap forward and kiss you. There’s electricity in the air, it crackles around you and pulses in a way that has your chest rising and falling a little quicker than usual. Simon’s left foot shuffles forward and like he’s fighting his own body the rest of him refuses to move.

“Fighting you is kind of fun though.” You reply, your little tit for tat banter building, “sometimes.” You add but Simon is already grinning, looking as though what you said is the best piece of information he’s ever retained.

“I do like you when you’re feisty.” He replies. Before you get a chance to fully take in what’s been said, Johnny comes through the door.

“Your graces,” he bows to you both.

“What is it Johnny?” Simon’s grin is gone, replaced with a thick frown. He seems annoyed to have been interrupted, you think to yourself. Again a blush rises on your cheeks and ears.

“You have received an invitation to the Price Ball tomorrow night.” He informs you both.

“Ah. Right, John said his new Viscountess was planning one.” Simon nods, running a hand over the stubble growing on the lower half of his face. It made him look a little rough but you sort of liked it better than when he was clean shaven. “Reply back that we will attend only if the Duchess is feeling better.” Johnny nods and leaves.

Simon said a week into your marriage that whatever Ton event that was being thrown during this London season you would both have to attend no matter what and now he’s making exceptions and excuses to his close friend for you?

“Hey.” Simon catches your attention, his voice soft and he crouches next to the chair. His eyes search yours for a reason as to why you look upset, it’s as if he wants to find the culprit and destroy it. That maybe be pushing it a little but it’s the vibe he’s giving off.

You just stare at him for a moment before you speak, “I don’t understand why you’re being so nice.” You make sure your voice is quiet, the question feeling unsafe to say out loud.

Simon looks down, a shuddering breath making its way out. It surprises you as much as his answer does, “I don’t want to be alone either.” It’s mumbled but very clear.

“What?”

He snaps his head up, eyes locking with yours with an intensity you’ve never seen before. “When the next two months are over, you’re going to stay with me and it’s going to be your choice this time.” Simon takes a hold of your hand, kissing the top of it before holding it in between the both of his.

“I will make every effort to make it so darling.”

To be continued…

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