#and on reese when he was tired | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

onlyangel4 · 4 months ago

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pushed too hard. mv1. SMAU + written.

max verstappen x chronically ill! reader

in which max's girlfriend has a very valid reason for not attending the races but the public doesn't know. and when the hate gets too much she pushes herself too hard.

author's note: so i have written this completely from experience, so the reader has elhers danlos syndrome (which i also have) but if you suffer from a different chronic illness please do imagine it as that.

warnings: chronic illness. hate. hospitalisation. injury.

face claim: katie douglas

y/ninsta posted a story tagging maxverstappen

written: y/sister managed to get a picture of me as soon as i woke up to find out that max won the bahrain gp with a twenty second lead. i am such a proud girlfriend rn.

maxverstappen replied to your story: good you are awake i'll facetime you rn. i miss you and the cats.

user1 replied to your story: if you really were a good girlfriend you would have been there supporting him

maxfan: you are such a bad wag you didn't even stay up to watch the race.

you had woken up on a high. you had turned your phone on to see all the messages informing you of your boyfriend's impressive win and you had even managed to facetime max before he went to bed. it felt like a good day. but then you made the mistake of opening social media. people on twitter were doing what people on twitter do best, talk shit. your eyes scanned over the screen as for the millionth time people picked apart your relationship and called you every name under the sun. they saw you as a villain that just did not support her boyfriend and that could not be further from the truth.

if you could attend every race you would but that just was not plausible. you suffered from elhers danlos syndrome and on top of that you had chronic fatigue. the elhers danlos effected your joints making every day painful to some degree. yes there were good and bad days but there were never pain free days. both of your knees had been operated on and you were awaiting surgery on your ankle due to frequent dislocations. the simple description of elhers danlos is that you had fault collagen, this collagen is what makes your connective tissue so your connective tissue was faulty and therefore your joints had a habit of dislocating and causing you a hell of a lot of pain. it was a domino effect the constant pain that you were in made you incredibly tired and that is where the chronic fatigue came in. max often called you his sleepy girl because you needed at least one nap per day to function properly.

you knew the problems you were having with max's fans could be solved by you telling them what you suffered with medically but they did not deserve an explanation from you. you should be allowed to live your life how you want to without thousands of strangers telling you that you were doing it wrong or that you were a bad girlfriend. you wanted to keep your medical issues private and max completely understood and supported your decision to do so. so instead you had to deal with all the hate. you just had to remind yourself that these people did not know the real you and if they did they, hopefully, would not treat you like this.

y/sister posted a story tagging y/ninsta

written: y/n finally left the house for the first time in five days and it was just for a snack run.

maxverstappen replied: is she having a bad week, she only eats reese's when she is a lot of pain

y/sister: i didn't tell you this but she is not doing well at all, she slept all of yesterday and then today the internet hates her because she wasn't at the race.

as the saudi arabian gp came and went max was busy with stragety meetings and such this meant that instead of coming home for a few days like he had previously planned he stayed out there and was going to go straight from there to australia and at this point you were really missing your boyfriend. the hate had not subsided either. it was just a very difficult time for you. one night where you had just been scrolling through twitter reading through the cruel things that people had been saying about you, you hit your limit. there was no way that you could deal with this for the rest of the season. so insteadyou decided to do something about it.

the morning you needed to fly to australia was when you realised that this was a bad idea. you had woken up in enough pain to down a horse, joints aching and head spinning. but danny had pulled strings for you. he had arranged everything just so that you could surprise your boyfriend and there was no way you were going to cancel when the plan was already in motion. so instead you just grinned and bared it. the flight was okay, luckily daniel had booked you a first class seat.. but sleep was hard to come by due to your body not being used to sleeping while being in flight. you were already tired when you landed in australia. due to the lack of notice the only flight daniel could arrange got in late on the saturday night. so you had booked a hotel next to the airport and arranged for a car to pick you up in the morning.

it had been so fucking hot in your hotel room and that meant that sleep was incredibly difficult to find. you tossed and turned all night only getting five hours of low quality sleep. in the morning you had pulled on a comfortable outfit and made your way out to the car that daniel had arranged for you.

y/ninsta posted a story

written: fit check

f1wags

liked by user30, user31, user32 and 89,172 others

f1wags: y/n y/ln has arrived to her first ever grand prix. y/n has been dating max verstappen for 18 months and had never been to a race before. but today that changes. she is not dressed in usual wag attire instead in an oversized shirt and bike shorts with a red bull cap. she may not be dressed like the others but we are happy to see her in the paddock

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user30: we wait for her to show up and she comes wearing that. what an awful wag

user31: go on girl. give us nothing.

user32: i'm actually so happy she is here. i love y/n and have never understood the hate i think she is the cutest

the red bull garage was incredibly easy to spot. your eyes found danny loitering outside having a meaningless conversation with your boyfriend, "i got you a present mate. as it is my home gp i decided to spoil you", danny spoke and max raised an eyebrow.

"whatever it is i am sure that i don't want it", max responded

"i wouldn't be so sure", you cut in and max turned around instantly at the sound of your voice a wide smile gracing his features.

"oh my god, y/n", he spoke as his arms engulfed you in a tight hug. "what are you doing here love?"

"i wanted to surprise you"

"well consider me surprised"

you laughed softly as you followed your boyfriend into the red bull garage he gave you a tour of the garage and you followed him clinging onto his arm. he was used to having to hold you up so leaning on him did relieve your aching joints. max knew all about your medical issues he had helped you with them for over a year. he knew that coming to australia was pushing your body past its limits so every so often he made sure to check in on you. make sure that you sat for a little bit before interacting with the rest of the team. however when he left to go and race there was no longer anyone in the garage that knew about your medical issues. and this is what led to you being stood all of the race. stragestists and other people who you gathered were important to the team took the seats, while you stood towards the back of the garage.

it was around lap twenty when your left ankle began to properly hurt and your eyes felt heavy. a clear indicator of fatigue and your body telling you that you needed to rest. but your boyfriend was racing so well and you wanted to be able to watch him. the race continued for a few more laps however just as max started the thirty first lap your ankle gave way, dislocating from the strain of you being stood on it when it was already under pressure. you crumpled onto the floor a yelp leaving your lips as you fell but you were unable to put your hands out to soften your fall so you ended up hitting your head on the hard ground. this was enough to knock you out. first aiders ran over and called the ambulance into the paddock but you next regained consciousness inside the ambulance, on the way to hospital. alone.

f1updates

liked by user35, user36, user37 and 54,092 others

f1updates: as the drivers go into the 4oth lap of the australian gp an ambulance was spotted leaving the paddock with full lights. sources say the ambulance was parked outside of the red bull garage, but no one knows who was inside of it when it left the paddock

view all 554 comments

user35: the stress finally got to horner

user36: shit i hope whoever it is is okay

user37: the red bull garage do look rather stressed

"well done max you have just won the australian grand prix", christian had called over the radio. he felt guilt twinge at him. his girlfriend had been rushed to the hospital thirty laps ago but christian had made the decision to not tell max until the end of the race. he knew that the dutch driver was going to be mad when he heard the news. christian decided he needed someone else to tell max what had happened. "daniel can you come find me as soon as you are out of the car", he had intercepted the racing bulls radio just to give daniel the message, christian knew it would be better to have bad news coming from him rather than himself.

"thirty fucking laps ago", max spoke pacing back and forth in front of one of his closest friends. "you are trying to tell me my girlfriend had an ambulance called on her thirty laps ago and no one told me. she is in a foreign hospital. alone and probably scared shitless", max ranted to danny.

"i know man, christian just asked me to tell you. we can go to the hospital after the podium ceremony"

"oh fuck that i'm going now"

"you aren't driving", daniel knew better than to argue with max in that moment. yes christian would be pissed to find out that max was skipping the podium ceremony but daniel was not going to stop him from leaving. instead the two man snuck out the back of the paddock and to danny's car. the two racecar drivers got to the hospital in record speed with max running up to the front desk asking the nurse where he could find you. he was ushered through the hospital to a ward.

you were sat in a private ward you ankle elevated, an ice pack on your head and fluid iv in your arm. "max. you won.", you spoke softly. you had the television on and the grand prix on, you had just watched footage of a frantic christian looking for the driver that was now in your room.

"that does no matter my love, what happened?"

"i just pushed myself too far max. i forced myself to stand the whole time and my ankle dislocated, the doctors want to operate on it soon. and when i fell i gave myself a nasty concussion", you explained and the look on max's face could only be described as broken.

"oh my love", he spoke softly pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"i just didn't want the fans to think i was a bad girlfriend. that you deserve more than me", you spoke quietly, "they all hate me because i can't go to races", you spoke tears forming in your eyes but max's thumb quickly wiped them away.

"they don't hate you. they just don't know you honey."

"we should put out a statement, tell them what has been going on with me"

"you just read my mind my love"

maxverstappen posted a story tagging y/ninsta

y/ninsta

liked by maxverstappen, landonorris, daniel ricciardo and 830,121 others

tagged maxverstappen

y/ninsta: a long awaited health update. after a week in hospital i am now finally back home from australia. i am expected to have surgery on my ankle in the next couple of weeks. and i am on a strict diet of hourly lollipops because my blood sugar was low. i just wanted to say a massive thank you to max who literally ditched his own podium ceremony (sorry christian) to be with me. i am so incredibly lucky to have you and i love you with all of my heart, even if i am pissing you off while i'm on bedrest.

view all 28,001 comments

maxverstappen: you could never annoy me

y/ninsta: even when i try to walk when i'm not supposed to

maxverstappen: y/n sit tf down

danielricciardo: so glad to hear you are doing better

y/insta: thank you for bringing me take out every day i was in australia

user40: the world owes this girl an apology. you all bitching and moaning about her not being present just to find out that she has a chronic illness. some of you should be really embarrassed rn

#f1 x reader #f1 #f1 fanfic #formula 1 smau #formula one smau #f1 smau #f1 fandom #f1 fic #max verstappen smau #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #mv1 #mv1 x reader #mv1 fic #f1 social media au #formula one #formula 1

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carolmunson · 1 year ago

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you get me closer to god | kas!eddie (dark)

entry for my fall frenzy requests. this request comes in from @edsforehead: 'something with kas!eddie in a graveyard.'

a/n: y'all, i don't know. i kind of snapped with this one. sort of canon compliant. inspired by a post that i saw that said that after vampires feed they have an insatiable desire to breed afterwards. steve also makes an appearance cause i love him.

tw: 18+ MDNI, dub-con, dub-con, dub-con (reader does get into it). use of hypnosis, coercion. blood play, blood drinking, biting. very obvious power dynamics at play here. death of minor character mentioned. p in v smut, rough and sensual. oral (f-recieving), monster-type-fucking. mild chasing trope. some religious elements if you squint??? anyway i listened to closer by nine inch nails on a loop for this if you wanna know the general vibe. let me know if there is anything i missed and need to put on here!

October 31st, 1998

Your niece had a better haul than you ever did at this age, it seemed like every house on the fancy side of Hawkins was giving out full size candy bars. No one ever gave you full size candy bars. The Harrington's had outdone themselves this year, hoards of kids picking out wrapped caramel apples and passing out spiked cider to the parents. Humming and smiling while the adults hugged their parkas to their chests, kids running up and down the stairs of the cul de sac of Hawkins Mansions. Decorated to the nines -- you were happy that most of the street would tire her and all of her friends out. "Auntie!" she calls out, hurrying over to you while her pink and purple puffer coat swishes with her. Alycia glitters against the lights of the houses in the dark of the night, the red sequins on her leotard making her easy to find. Your sister-in-law made her a headband fitted with red horns with a pointed tail sewn into the back of the red tu-tu from her Spring recital to match. A Dancing Devil she called it -- for newly six, she was a pretty creative little bug.

"Auntie look," she yells, running into your legs. The spiked cider sloshes in your cup that you hold high over her head so it doesn't spill onto her. She holds up a decorated caramel apple covered in eyeballs made out of sugar.

"Gross, Leesh," you giggle, "It's got eyeballs all over it!"

"They're fake eyeballs, Auntie," she explains like you're stupid, "They're not real eyeballs."

"Oh, thank you for telling me. I didn't know," you giggle, catching Steve watching the two of you chat. Your cheeks burn, that crush from when you were fourteen and he spent the summer working at the mall never fully fading. He's married with four kids now so you should probably get over it. "How're things?" he asks from the curb, coming over to sneak Alycia a couple of Reese's cups. "They're good," you shake your head with a shrug, "They're fine. Out here with the rugrat while her mom's at work." "How's the family, your mom?" he presses, arms crossing over his broad chest that stretch the sleeves of his tan workwear jacket.

"She's doin' okay," you smile tightly, "Always a little hard for her this time of year."

"Five years now, isn't it?"

"To the day," you say with a lilt, "Gonna go visit him after I drop her with her grandparents. My dad'll be so thrilled to steal half her stash."

Your laugh is a little hollow when he squeezes your shoulder comfortingly, he slips a candy bar into your hand, too before saying his goodbyes -- set of twins running around his ankles.

Hawkin's bravest fireman somehow off duty on a night like this turns before you take your niece's hand to leave, "Be careful out there at night. You know it's not always safe."

"You don't believe in all those rumors, do you Harrington?" you laugh.

"Don't have to believe them or not," he says seriously, pushing his wire rims up his nose, "I know they're not rumors."

"Happy Halloween, Steve," you say dully, "Goodnight." You both wave, Alycia's little hand in yours while she rattles off a million words a minute about the skeloton outside of the Sinclair house. The moon glows down over the street, dark clouds slicing it like a broken plate.

You rarely visit your brother on the day of, especially since there's always idiot teenagers running around the place. Not exactly easy to mourn when some loser in a Scream mask keeps trying to scare you.

It was quiet, your Docs crunching on mid-fall frosty grass -- some of it already half dead with the season. Commotion from the town in the distance had dulled into mostly nothing now that the kids had turned in for the night. Families turning their porch lights out, settling in for scary movies and sugar highs.

You squeeze the bouquet of baby's breath and eucalyptus a little hard in your hands when you walk through the tombstones. The low lamps along the walk way casting the grass and asphalt in a looming orangey glow -- not offering much light beyond their posts. The moon does the work, still looking shattered amongst the thin gray clouds sliding through the sky.

You hear some giggling, the rustle of leaves, the snap of twigs. Always an outlier of kids doing spells or a Ouija board out here this time of year -- old Chief Hopper coming down to make them scatter and take their weed. You walk off the path when you get a decent way in, crossing away from where the cemetary mostly turns to forest. Four 'Happy Birthday To Yous' into the brush and then a left, two head stones, then a right -- it's the third headstone on the fourth row. No light to shine down on you this time, just whatever's left in the sky. You take your big yellow scarf off from around your neck to lay over the grave, giving yourself a place to sit so your spandex covered thighs didn't have to touch the grass. Your mom would kill you if you got grass stains on the red trench she let you borrow -- a makeshift Carmen Sandiego costume if anyone asked.

You sit, laying the bouquet right at the granite edge, tracing his name before letting your hand drop. You don't say anything for a while, letting the cool wet air run over you in waves. You wonder if the wind blowing is him saying hey.

A few cemetery patrons come by, pay their respects to their loved ones and leave. Some superstitious, some religious. They fade out after a while. The loneliness is comforting, just you and your brother hanging out together like before. Despite being six years apart, it felt like you both always had some weird wonder twin telepathy. He was never really one for a lot of words.

"Didn't that guy tell you not to come around here so late?"

You jump at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, turning around to see an even more unfamiliar person. Wild curly waves messy around his face, cut in 80s shag perfection. His face chiseled, jawline pronounced with soft stubble, soaked in fake blood. It trails down his neck and stains the white of the baseball tee underneath a leather jacket; fitted over top with a battle vest that rivaled the metal heads of the 70s.

"Who're you, huh? You following me?" you ask. You swallow nervously, finding solace in seeing a few other cemetary visitors mosying around. The faint giggle of more mischeif causing teenagers in the distance.

"Sorry," he laughs, a warm laugh that meets his eyes, "Didn't mean to scare you. I um, I saw you over by the cul de sac, overheard him say somethin' to you. I was with my little cousin -- dressed like a mermaid, I don't know if you remember."

You think back to Leesh's pal of trick-or-treaters, scanning them in your head to recall a little girl with big brown eyes and a makeshit Ariel costume on under her jean jacket -- covered in patches much like his.

"Yeah," you smile, "I remember. But that didn't answer my question -- are you following me?"

"Nah," he grins, shaking his head, "I'm visiting someone -- this was just a happy accident."

"Oh," you respond quietly, "Who're you visiting if you don't mind me asking."

"My mom," he shrugs, scrunching his nose, "Halloween was her favorite holiday so I always try to come say hi."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you offer in condolences, "Did you um -- did you grow up here? I feel like I'd remember you."

"Nope," he sighs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans while his wallet chain jingles next to his thigh, "Grew up with my uncle."

"Oh, nice," you nod, "Well um --"

"Who're you visiting?" he interrupts, sitting on the gravestone next to your brother's; hardware tinkling prettily as he does.

"Pete," you say, hand out to gesture towards the shiny granite in front of you, "My brother."

"Nice to meet you, Pete," he turns his head, curly hair flouncing over his shoulder, "Pleasure."

You laugh, he laughs with you -- you have to laugh about it or else you'd have to deal with the alternative. You're pretty sure you're all cried out about your brother now.

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"He worked construction," you shrug, "Took an overnight shift five years ago by the quarry, an' it was Halloween so he was workin' by himself -- no one to spot his safety gear. Must've fallen off the rigs or something and since it rained a lot that year the quarry was basically a lake at that point, hit his head and drowned. His body was completely banged up and waterlogged, they could only ID him from his pass in his pocket."

"Shit," he nods, "That's -- that's fuckin' awful. I'm sorry."

You shrug, "Bitch of living, I guess."

"Hm," he nods, "I wouldn't know."

"What do you mean?" you ask with a cocked head, eyes lingering on him while his linger on you. "Don't worry about it," he smirks, the kind that makes your heart flutter; cheeks getting hot at the sound of his voice. "You know something," you start, "With this whole get up -- and you're not from here so you might not know -- you look just like --"

"Eddie Munson?" he asks, with raised brows, "Yeah, my aunt's been telling me that forever. That's why I sorta dressed up like him for Halloween."

"That's dangerous around Hawkins, especially this time of year," you warn him, standing up from your spot and picking up your scarf. You shake it out to get some of the grass of the underside. You hardly notice the way his eyes trail from your shoes over your calves to your thighs.

"Some people say that he went right to hell after that earthquake since he killed that girl," you explain, shrugging the trench off some to fit the scarf on under it, "And now he's a demon that haunts Hawkins and terrorizes the town."

You both laugh, though his drops to a low and guttural hum. Nearly a growl. You lift your head to see him just a foot in front of you now, and you can really look. You can really see him. The paleness in his skin, tendrilled navy veins raising through it as he leans close to you.

At this distance it's clear that the hollowness in his eyes isn't makeup, but the sparkling brown is sunken into his skull. His brows darkened and determined while he looks at you.

At this distance, it's clear that the blood on his jaw is real.

"They're close," he says with a sly smile, "Really should've listened to Harrington, sweetheart."

You swallow hard, icy sweat in a film on your body while he takes a step forward.

"Those rumors are true."

The icy air shreds your throat as you run, heaving it in and out in gasps. Your calves scream, thighs aching while you sprint through the brush of the forest; trench and scarf long forgotton somehwere amongst the trees. You try to ignore the way twigs and branches swipe at your face, slicing you and scratching you with unforgiving whips. You let out a cry while you speed, leaping over roots and piles of leaves all while trying to listen with peak percision. Is he close? Is he getting closer? Can he see you?

You stop behind a log near a dip in the earth, rocks above it. Climbing in you heave, trying to catch your breath -- you aren't really made for this. You don't know how girls in the movies can run that long without needing a break.

With a deep inhale in, you hold, using the quiet to try and hear him but there is nothing to be heard. No rustling, no creaks in the wood or in the wind.

You catch your breath, slowly creeping out of your hiding space while the darkness hones -- trees blocking out some of the moonlight. You take a step and then another, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Your efforts are of no use though -- you stomach turns at the sound. The flap of wings, leathery wings -- big. A shaky breath in gives you the courage to turn your eyes up. On one of the taller branches above you he sits, pale and domineering, "Hi, sweetheart."

You bolt again, depserate and sobbing while the cold air is no longer a hello from your brother but mother nature's cruel bite on your wet cheeks. You can barely take in breaths without pain in your throat and chest, turning left and right and left again to lose him but from above he can predict your every move.

When you hear silence again you take another turn, a mausoleum broken down a short distance away. You crawl your way in, wet earth and cement hitting your nose while you gasp and heave for the second time. You listen for the wings for moment, a few moments -- a calm washing over your back when you're sure he's gone.

You take a step back further into the darkness to be sure you're unseen. Deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. One, twice, three times.

Another step back and you bump into a pillar making you jump, a screech wrenching from you.

Not a pillar no, not by the way a set of claw bites into your shoulder.

"Would've been a good hiding spot if it wasn't for me finding it first, right?" he quips, "Bummer." "Y-you can't d-do this," you cry, "The r-rumors are true they'll -- they'll look for me! Steve knows about you!"

"Oh, babe, that's so cute," he muses with a giggle, "Why do you think I'm still here, huh? Steve's just like me, he's bitten too."

"B-but--"

"Why do you think he believes in all those rumors, huh baby?" he asks with a lilt, "Cause he's one of 'em. Well -- not all the way, I guess. Not like me."

"He blows my cover he blows his whole operation," he grins, sharp teeth bearing themselves at you, "Why d'you think he only works night shifts?"

"I -- don't -- I don't," you sputter, "Pl-please d-don't bite me, d-don't eat me I -- I'll do whatever."

"You're too funny," he says in your ear, deep and grizzly while you're rooted to the spot under his clutch, "I already ate, sweet girl. But you'll make a fine dessert."

You don't know how you get there but it's not like home -- it is but it isn't -- dark and deadly; covered in slithering vines. You're too petrified to ask; but whatever this place was, despite the spores in the air and the rubble from the walls -- it was much nicer than the trailer he grew up in.

"Shh, shh, shh," he coos, claws deep in your shoulder while he wrenches you to a bed covered in plush linens -- satin and full. In the blur around you it could almost be a movie set; the booms of red lightening, dripping pillar candles in heaps around the room.

You whimper at first when his claws release, hot blood oozing against your sweater. The pain pulses like a dull thud, spit flooding your mouth while you move to your side to wretch but he catches you by the root of your hair. You wail in fear, smelling the decay in his breath, the sweet subtle rot of your surroundings.

"It's not polite to cause a scene in a stranger's home, right princess?" he asks with a soft lilt. He holds your gaze, warmth spreading over you when he smirks again -- and despite your fear, you can't look away. You aren't even sure if you want to look away.

Your body goes slack on the comforter, melting into itself like a dropped marionnette. "Very good," he purrs. Hazy, you feel his hands on you -- losing their warmth while they sneak under the hem of your sweater. The pads of his fingers are soft in comparison to the tips of his nails, grazing your stomach and sternum before reaching up to cup your breasts. He lets out a shallow breath, squeezing the delicate flesh softly in his palms -- so gentle despite his rough demeanor.

His thumbs graze your nipples in slow circles earning him a mewl from your dry throat.

"So easy," he giggles in a whisper. You nearly pout when his hands slide down and away from you; beginning the unhurried removal of your clothing. He moves glacially, eyes remaining on yours, wraiths of whispers in a lanuage you don't understand fluttering in the air around you -- in one ear and out the other. Part of you wants to scream and thrash while he slides off your spandex, rips the seams of your panties, destroys your socks.

His clawed hands shred your sweater, snap your bra at the straps until all your clothes are left in a heap on the dusty floorboards by a forgotten desk. He crawls over you like a predator, undressed himself now: some how bigger, more hulking than before. His shoulders are broad, muscles flexing while skin so white it's nearly blue stretches over it. Whatever is down here has completely infected him, you can see it in the color of the veins beneath his skin, the slight red in his pupils, the dark blue hues under his eyes.

His wings lift high around him in an arched half circle, tips appearing behind him like a hybrid of horns and halo at once.

"Could smell you from here," he leers, "since last night. Christ, fucking drooling over you like a kid."

You whimper again, body jolting in pain when his nails pierce your thighs when he parts them. Fresh ichor spilling from the wounds in deep sanguine and he doesn't seem to care about the mess he's making while it drips onto the sheets. His cavalier manuevering comes off as though he likes to play with his food before he eats it.

"And I don't know what it is, angel, how my senses find the right ones," he rasps while he leans forward to your blood soaked shoulder; serpent tongue slipping out to lave over it, "But you really called to me this year; think you might be the one."

"The o-one wh-what?" you sniffle. His tongue slides over the lacerations on your shoulder again, sucking slightly from the new wounds. He lets out a groan, using free hand to rest on the side of your rib cage for support.

He deatches from the well he drinks from, tip of his nose running over your decollatage and up your neck. In inhales over your jugular, pressing a wet kiss under your jaw before getting to your ear.

"The one I mate with, sweetheart," he breathes, "The one I breed."

Breed? You heart sinks like a stone into your belly, body tensing in a freeze while you think of what to do. How to get out of here.

"Wait," you gasp, arms coming up to push at his chest and push him away, "No, please, wait -- you can't."

You push and push but he's a stone pillar, he barely moves, his muscles barely push inward at your assault. He tuts, the click of his tongue between his teeth almost a chitter. He noses your cheek before looming over you, tips of your noses brushing. He catches your gaze again, the whispers start while the air blows in through the broken window. Obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo. His lips aren't moving but you can hear his low voice in your ears, barely there, swirling around in your subconcious while the wind whispers with it. Another flash of red lightning illuminates him in a streak, the rumble of thunder vibrating your belly and chest. His hand floats up from your rib cage while you settle, cupping your cheek to slide down to your jaw and over your neck. The touch is nearly comforting, dipping you back into a haze like before.

"You were saying?" he asks.

"Hm?" your brows pinch, his voice muffled and far away.

"That's what I thought," he says smugly, head dipping back down to your neck where his lips drag over your delicate skin. His breath leaves a patch of wet heat that lingers when he moves down over your chest, fangs peeking out behind his full lips when he drags them over the swell of your left breast.

A gentle gasp escapes you, eyes fluttering closed when the tip of his tongue teases your pert nipple, blowing cool air against it once soaked with his spit. He flicks against it again, alternating sides, presses kisses over them in clear ownership. The more he tasted of you, the more it belonged to him.

With each touch and tease of your tits the more you gasp and whine beneath him, he chuckles from his belly, moving down to your sternum.

"And I died a virgin, can you believe it?" he asks with a cocky lift to one of his brows, "Now all I gotta do is smile and girls like you 'll just fall into bed with me."

There's cotton in your ears, all you can do is nod slowly while blood still leaks from your shoulder and thighs. All you can feel is his mouth and hands travel further and further down. The wind howls and the low chant in the back of your head changes tune but in the same cadence; over and over again: vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

He licks a stripe up the back of your thigh to catch a bead of blood before it reaches the mattress, savoring you. He feeds from the gouges he left behind for a moment before inching forward to the apex of your thighs. Eddie inhales your scent deeply, the earthly musk of you making his mouth water in a mix of metal and spit. His nose brushes against the untrimmed hair of your mound, ghosting himself over it drunk with attraction.

Your body heats up with mild embarrassment, flexing while your hips writhe slightly underhim. Almost as if he can hear your thoughts he kisses the crease of your thigh, "Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby. Girls don't let it grow like this anymore n' it's such a shame."

You want to speak up and explain it's just 'cause you haven't had the time but your tongue doesn't know how to move anymore. Too tired to speak, too caught up in how he feels, how he touches, how he takes what he wants. You relent again, body relaxing; pliant while he spreads you apart for him a desperate moan pulling from you when his tongue -- still soaked in your blood -- glides from the pool of slick at your opening all the way up to your clit.

You almost gag at the way your body betrays you, sending a spread of electricity over your nerves from your core to your finger tips. "More," you whisper, not even believing you're begging for him, "Please, more."

Eddie's smug in his response, smiling with his eyes while he looks up at you from between your legs, "And good manners? You spoil me, princess."

Your back arches in a soft curve when your hips push back into the mattress, pressing yourself into his waiting mouth. He groans again when your body drips for him, leaving a damp sheen on his cheeks and chin. It's not about your pleasure despite how much of it he's bringing you, but about your consumption. He's devouring you. Licking his plate clean from the outside in.

The moans he takes from you spur him on, getting you further and further away from the fight you put up before. Spilling over for him like a puddle while you writhe, a hand reaching out to rake through his hair. His own reaches up from aroud your thigh to hold you by the wrist tight to your side.

"Hands to yourself," he murmrs, soft lips wrapping around your swollen clit to suck expertly on the bud. You whimper, tugging at his hold but it only makes his grip more intense, pinning you there without much a fight. Not even enough to distract him from the task at hand.

When his tongue sinks back down into your soaking core you feel it, the heat pulsing through your belly while he lets the muscle dip and swirl in your wetness. Your thighs twitch and shake when his nose bumps your sensitive clit, his free hand coming up to gingerly rub circles over it in tandem.

"Oh my god," you whine, "Oh my god -- K-kas don' -- oh my god, ohmygod." He snickers, contining his movements, murmuring a quiet, "God's not here, baby."

Another roll over your hips sends you reeling, his tongue gliding in long strokes when finally the coil in your belly snaps. You fall apart beneath him, loud moans and high pitched squeals while he consumes you through it. Your body vibrates, thighs clamping down over his ears, blood from the slices in your flesh staining his hair and jaw.

He hums low when you settle, gasping for breath on your already dry and scratchy throat while you come down.

Eddie rises slowly, shoulder blades and wings moving with him while he crawls up your body. Smooth and languid like a snake, his torso hovers above yours while he settles his hips between your thighs. You look up at him, his shape, the way his eyes have blown black, the newfound sharpness in his features. A creature, a monster in your wake — not the same person you saw at the cemetery.

“Oh,” he coos when he sees your eyes glassy and rounded upon him, “So precious.”

You're much weaker now, mind and body, the stings across your skin from the broken branches and his sharpened nails a pain you've become better accquainted with. You take another breath of calm, arms resting by your head with your palms up towards the ceiling. He takes the moment of surrender to hold them down against the bed. The pressure of his hips against yours keeps you pinned, but you barely fight -- maybe squirm, maybe whine. No thrashing, no screaming, the whispers echo through the wind again:

Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

"So, so, precious," he whispers while he leans forward, kisses pressed to one cheek and then the other slow and controlled. He inhales again when he dips down to your neck, piercing fangs dragging over the vein there. You feel the push and then the pain, the unbearable blinding pain of his teeth ripping through you. Through your skin, through the muscle, the pulse of his mouth while he holds himself there.

You cry out, nearly a scream while he holds himself there -- just enough to infect you, just enough to get the poison in. The pain reaches a blinding peak, bile growing up your throat, eyes filling with a white hot surge of anguish and then -- Nothing. Euphoria. An unknown lightness you hadn't felt before.

He releases, still holding tight to your wrists above your head when he raises up over you again.

"Open," he instructs, and in your hazy gaze you obey. Your tongue flattens against your chin without command.

"Very good, sweetheart," he praises, collecting the blood left on his lips and in his cheeks to spit it directly into your waiting mouth.

"You can close now," he grins, "And swallow."

He grunts, hips sliding against you so that you can feel his length between your legs; the girth alone sends a chill to the part of you that is screaming inside your head. How is it supposed to fit? How is he supposed to get this inside you? "Don't worry," he laughs, "It'll fit."

When your vision snaps up at him he laughs again, "I can hear you in there, princess. I can always hear you."

He dips down again, tip of his nose sliding over your cheek to your ear, "So be very careful what you think about."

He doesn't need his hands to guide the head of himself into your already needy center. It's a stretch, delicious but nearing painful. It's not something you've ever even dreamed of taking before; thick, large, inhuman.

Your legs lift on their own accord while he pushes in further, getting half way while you let out a choked sob.

"Aw, shh, shh, shh," he mocks, easing in more, "C'mon you can take it."

"You can --" his hips snap in hard for the rest of him, letting out a ragged grunt when the rest of him disappears inside you, "--take it."

You mouth hangs open in a desperate oval, face crumpling when you become so full of him -- all encompassing. A part of you now, buried deep within. He moves, dangerously slow and controlled; methodic in how he thrusts himself deeper and deeper inside. "Mmm, that's it," he growls, chest to chest with him while his hip grind at a deliberate pace. You feel his hot breath fan out over your lips, forehead pressed against yours. He's not hot, he's not cold, just skin against yours while it flashes with heat. You go from shaking to sweating with minutes in between.

When your hips roll to meet his thrusts you moan, the tip hitting you so deep in your core that stars burst behind your eyes. "There we go," he grins mischeviously, "S'at feel good, pet?"

"Ooh, yes," you hiss through gritted teeth, actively trying to bounce yourself againsth him now that your body has started accommodating his sheer size. He raises himself up on his hands like a cobra, snake like peering down at you while he meets the roll of your hips with an unforgiving thrust.

"Good," he oozes the word out like smoke, deliciosly deep seated in his belly when he thrusts hard again. He mumbles a quiet musing to himself that you can't hear -- too gone in the lightness in your body, in the way nothing hurts, in the way you're so full.

Can finally fuck you how I wanna.

He gets up, sitting back on his haunches while still inside you, pushing your legs up so your knees end up by your ears. With this leverage he sinks in deep. You don't even know how far in he is, just that he's in and he's there, he's everywehre, he's outside and in.

Eddie locks eyes with you, that same smirk from the cemetary that made your stomach flip dancing across his devilish features, "Tell me you like it."

Your mouth moves before your brain can hesitate, "I like it." "Tell me you need it," he demands, tone measured and sure.

"I need it," you say back, your voice coming out broken and weak, "Please, I need it."

He pulls back and punches forward, hard enough that you gasp at the impact. He grips you hard by the backs of your legs, thrusts starting slow and building at an unrelenting pace. His eyes are wild; boring down at you through from under furrowed and determined brows. If you had any mind left, you'd think that he hates you by the way he stares.

"Fuck," he snarls, leaning forward over you, one hand pressing down on the mattress next to your head, "Shit -- fuck, that's it. That's fuckin' -- shit, you're fuckin' mine." "Say you need me."

"I need you," you choke back without thinking, barely able to breathe at his speed. The coil tightens deep inside of you again, tears pouring down your cheeks in waves -- not even crying, just recieving. Absorbing him. Your body rocks like a boat on unsteady waves pinned beneath him, the only sounds are the whispers in your subconcious, his growls and sputters like an animal above you. The lewd slaps of skin against skin, the squelches of him pushing you to your limits.

He steadies himself over you, nose to nose again while he fucks you. Really fucks you. Impressed with himself, he lets out a breathy chuckle when you throw your head back -- eyes shutting tight with a pornographic scream.

"Oh GOD!" you cry out, "Oh my god."

His fingers and claws catch your chin with a firm shake, eyes snapping open to meet the knowing glare of his ruddy brown ones.

"Your god," he starts, panting into your mouth, "is right here in front of you."

You swallow, mouth falling agape again when you feel the bite of his nails on the fat of your cheeks. "Right here," you repeat, dazed and overwhelmed, "N'..n'fronname."

"Right here in front of you," he nods, leaning down to brush his nose against yours while his thrusts slow to a steady pace. It's then that his lips meet yours, the kiss searing with desire and claim when his tongue slides into your mouth. You can taste the metallic twang of your blood in his mouth, sighing into it while he guides the kiss. Breaking away and coming back in; rushed and heated each time while he feels himself get closer to his peak.

His forehead presses against yours, one hand finally releasing your wrist to hold your head in place over your hair. You keep eye contact with him, not even sure if you're blinking, if you even need to blink. You rasp breaths, mouth and throat dry and aching while you breathe into him. You're close, teetering on the edge while he pushes you up with his hips to rest your lower body on his knees and thighs.

"Come undone," he murmurs, "Let go for me."

The command ripples through you, bursting through your belly with a warm heat. You welcome it, eyes rolling, cries pouring from you in words you don't think you understand. He encourages you, offering you rough sweet nothings while you pray to him, beg for him, ache for him.

That's enough to send him over; seeing you completely at his mercy now. Obedient, trained, devoured.

He snares and snarls, growling while he comes deep inside of you. The hand on your head wraps painfully in your hair like it did before you started -- uncaring, brutal. The heat of his seed pools deep within you like the heart of your orgasm. Glazed over you groan, hips rolling up in one final cant to receive him fully. Your vision vingettes while he unsheathes from you; fluids leaking onto the sheets. You're empty and the room spins with a new blackness, you're fading. Fainting? Dying?

The fuzziness continues to darken arouns you, around him, until he's all that's left in the tunnel of your vision. "That's a good girl," he soothes smugly, "Very well done."

Your gaze and mind fade fully to a staticky black.

You wake, you’re not sure how much later.

Still on the bed and still undressed but your arms feel tight – a tug reveals your current state. Bound to a post on the headboard by a triple handcuff knot, dense hemp rope keeping your arms above your head.

You whine and struggle, coming to your senses now – no one knows where you are, you barely know where you are. An underworld – hell. Somewhere.

“Don’t look so terrified, sweetheart,” his smooth honey voice is heard before he appears in the candle light again, “I’m right here.”

“Wh-why am I –” you swallow thickly, coughing and sputtering with how dry your mouth and throat are now, “Why am I tied up?”

He looks at you with faux concern, brows raising, “Oh honey, are you okay?”

He reaches out, pushing your hair away from your face, “Don’t be stressed. Y’know something – I just realized, I never offered you anything to drink.”

“My uncle always told me you should take a girl out to dinner before makin’ the van rock and look at me,” he gestures at his chest, tutting at himself, “Where are my manners, huh?”

Your lip wobbles while he looms over you, “Are you thirsty?”

You nod, he grins – cheshire like, fangs glinting in the light, “I thought you would be.” He gets up, lazy and confident in his walk across the room. His body looks like marble, chiseled with the running and hunting you realize he’s been doing for over a decade. Stronger than ever; ethereal in his post orgasm glow.

He pulls his hair back while he walks, holding it up away from his neck while your eyes travel down his back where his wings have tucked in under the skin. You gag when you see them move above his blades, rippling beneath the tattoos he has there. He’s dressed in only shorts; silk – likely stolen to really own the whole vampire thing he has going on.

You take in a shaky breath when he gets what he needs, dropping his hair back to his shoulders when he makes his way back to you.

He holds the dagger coolly in his hand before gliding the tip down the center of his wrist. Blood blooms from the wound; he doesn’t even flinch.

“Open, princess,” he murmurs. Your lips clamp shut, shaking your head no while fear takes over – rot in your chest. He catches your chin again, forcing you to look at him like before.

“Open,” he repeats, slower. His voice reverberates like a gong between your ears.

Your mouth opens on its own accord and the smell of his blood becomes the most alluring scent you’ve had pass your nose in years. You latch on to the laceration, swallowing and sucking deeply on the wound while his blood and body quench and feed you better than any meal you think you’ve ever had. You feel revived as you devour him, eyes fluttering closed while the fill feels never enough.

“That’s it, keep goin’,” he encourages under his breath, “Won’t have to keep asking you to do things twice once this is all over with.”

You break away to breathe, gasping like you’re coming up for air, drowning in him.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ll be just like me, sweetheart,” he says, chuckling when you eagerly lean forward to drink him again, “After a night of some deeply insurmountable pain; and then nothing. Just mine. Undead and mine.”

“But y–you said you were – I’m –” your brows knit in confusion, “You didn’t h-have to d-do this; whatever you um – whatever you bred me with will die if you do this.”

“Oh, no, no,” he laughs evilly, “I didn’t breed you quite yet.”

He pulls his arm away, wiping the blood from your chin with his thumb roughly.

“Consider what we did a, uh…hmm,” he takes a second to think about it with a hum, shrugging cheekily, “A soul bonding experience.”

“You’re disgusting,” you spit.

“I’m delicious,” he corrects, smearing his blood from your chin to your cheek, “If you do say so yourself.”

He gets up again, pulling the covers out from under you to tuck you in. The chill getting to you in a way it never gets to him; you might as well be warm while you turn into actualized death.

“I can hear you, remember?” he asks, tapping your head, “You won’t be totally alone with me. There’s…shit there are plenty just like us.”

“Like Steve,” you pipe up groggily.

“More than just goodie two-shoes Harrington,” he groans, “God, do you ever shut up about him?”

You sniffle in response.

“I mean this place, this – dimension,” he says, “It’s more than just Hawkins, and there are so many more like us; even up there.”

He points upwards with a sharp nailed finger, “All around.”

“And now that you’ll be just like me,” he smiles, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you in the crook of you waist, “There’ll be all the time in the world to breed you.”

Your vision blurs, either from tears or from another fade, you aren’t sure. You can feel a slow burn through your veins, a rush of blood. You whimper.

“So it begins,” he smirks, running the tip of his finger over your nose bridge.

“Oh!” he says, eyes bulging, “Before I forget, and before I lose you – because you’ll be such a pretty blank slate when you come to – I felt like I should be honest.”

He gestures dramatically, a maniacal grin pushing his cheeks up to his eyes while they spark, “Again with my manners, it was so rude of me to introduce myself to Pete’s grave at the cemetery. We’ve met before! Can’t believe I had almost forgotten.”

Ice in your body fights the burning in your veins, you gag, bile coming up to singe your throat.

“And y’know, I didn’t mean to drop him in the quarry when I was done with him,” he says with a scrunch of his nose, like he accidentally wrote the wrong tip on a restaurant check, “Really, my mistake, but Christ did he hit every piece of limestone on the way down.”

He lets out a hearty laugh while he remembers it, your brother's body bouncing off rocks and metal before slipping under the water. You swallow your sick only or it to rise back up with a vengeance, staining your skin red while it seeps out of the corner of your mouth. You tug on the ropes in retaliation, hot angry tears stinging your eyes.

“All that fallin’ did a number on him – which is good because it really took the heat of anyone knowing it was me. I just wasn't as clean about it back then. Much better now though,” he nods, finishing with a superior and charming look like he just told a bedtime story.

He leans forward close to your face while your vision pulses in fuzzy black, browning out while he looks down at you.

“And I’ll tell you something, babe…”

Fading, fading, fading.

“He tasted divine.”

masterlist | fall frenzy | ko-fi

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #kas!eddie #kas!eddie munson #vampire!eddie munson #vampire!eddie #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fan fiction #tw: dubcon #tw: dub-con #dark!eddie #dark!eddie munson

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eatmangoesnekkid · 5 months ago

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Ladies, if you are being penetrated by him, he must know himself as a God. Even if your lover (no matter the gender) does not say those words or refer to themselves as such, you will be able to sense it in their daily actions. When I speak about masculine energy, that God energy, I'm not speaking about the performance like how a person's postures themselves or their overall banter. When I speak about masculine energy, I am speaking about tactile external structures like what are your lover's main focuses in life? How does your lover treat their body? Is your lover on social media all the time? What is their attention focused on? How does your lover manage resources including their money and "free time" like are they only playing video games, watching TV or sitting around in other ways when not working? I think of someone like Nipsey Hussle, who practiced semen retention, an archetype of human power who didn’t just carry masculine bravado, but organized and directed energy into a practice that procured success, those masters of our time who lived in more elevated ways. Other masculine archetypes I connect to are David Goggins, Joe Dispenza, Bruce Lee, Sun Ra, and many female and male athletes like Angel Reese and Deion Sanders. Too many woman have dead men/masculine energy hanging around their root, which means that they have very weak masculine energy entering their bodies and lives. Weak masculine energy makes you broke and tired because it makes no space for your actual feminine energy to shine and thrive. Weak masculine energy negatively affects your physical structure and taxes you financially and emotionally, like the lack of confidence or willpower you will have to move through discomfort or hard times. You must find ways to exalt the masculine energy within you if you want to excel in the this 3D energy. It is masculine energy that helps you to not only say the thing, but the become the thing. It is this energy that makes you completely comfortable with being the villian in another person’s story and not need to please everyone. This was one of my biggest coming-into-maturity lessons of all time. Goddess energy is lovely, the subtle and internal are deeply essential, but they are only truthful when God energy has been integrated. How can you raise the God in you? This is one major reason that I have been weightlifting nearly every week over the last 20 years. Even when I travel, I also grace the local gym as part of my traveling adventure. It’s the God in me that allowed me to confidently workout at Lee Haney’s gym on Ponce de Leon in Atlanta back in the day in the part of the weightlifting area where mostly big burly muscular men went as they stared at my ass while I squatted. It was a little icky and annoying at times but it was that God in me that mandated me to not tiptoe around or shrink like a little girl and only leave this area of the gym when I was done with what I came to do. Getting stronger not only helped my mental health and made me more confident, it is helped to dissolve a lot of the recurring low-grade depressive energy that was often part of my life. Strengthening my belly, my solar plexus, my sense of self, has been my discipline, one way I exalt the God, H.I.M., the masculine, within me. I never consciously realized that I tend to go into a gym feeling like a God until this morning--like "I can do this; I'm ready,” especially mustering this energy up on days when I don't really want to go, when going to the gym feels hard. Ultimately you can only attract God when you know yourself as a God, not intellectually because you read the Bible (many people who only read the Bible all the time stay broke and broken), but the God living in your own body and treat yourself accordingly. You can’t receive what you haven’t given to yourself. It's simple math. 1+1=2. -India Ame'ye, Author

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rebelfell · 28 days ago

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ghost!eddie took over my brain a little bit, esp once @littlexdeaths brought steve in the picture

Eddie almost got run over once.

He was little, maybe four or five. His mom took him to the Big Buy a couple days after Halloween and all the candy had been marked down. Most of the shelves had been picked clean, but there was a single box of Reese’s pumpkins left and she bought one. He didn’t even have to ask.

The cashier rang it up and handed it right back, his little hands all twitchy and grabby around the orange plastic wrapping. His mom said he had to wait to eat it in the car, and he tried to run to it as soon as the automatic doors whooshed open.

Moving too fast and too low to the ground for the car pulling into the lot to see.

His shirt collar dug into his throat, closing off his airway as she grabbed him by it to yank him back. The car sped past, brakes screeching in tune with Eddie’s mom screeching his name. She caught him in her arms, clutching him to her chest, her nails still digging into the nape of his neck, their groceries dropped to the concrete. He coughed and choked and sputtered, trying to catch his breath with his face smothered in her sweater.

Crying just because she was crying.

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry,” she croaked through her panic, smoothing her hand over the top of his unruly mop. “But you can’t do that, you can’t ever, ever—”

He whimpered his apology to her sleeve, leaving behind shiny trails of salt and snot as he peeked back over his shoulder. Through the blur of tears, he saw the little orange packet lying on the ground where he had just stood.

Smushed flat by the car tire. A smear of chocolate and peanut butter on the asphalt.

It was tough to recall any other details about that day. He couldn’t tell you what they had gone to buy or even what kind of car it was that almost hit him. But he remembered that sharp pressure on his windpipe and the feeling of abruptly being dragged backwards. He remembered the pain in his neck that spiked down his back as his head whipped forward and how his chest seized.

It was the exact same feeling as when he died.

There was no light for him to walk into, no familiar voices calling him back home. He didn’t really feel anything at all until he felt himself being jerked backwards, his body hurtling so fast he couldn't see or hear or feel or do anything at all. He just had to let himself be wrenched away.

Except when he opened his eyes, he didn’t find himself safe in the arms of someone who loved him. Instead, he was standing over you, staring down at you crying over his lifeless body.

And when he reached out a hand to touch you, he found it wasn’t even a hand at all. Just a flicker of light and smoke that went right through you.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson blurb #eddie stranger things #eddie munson moodboard #my moods #ghost!eddie

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mynameismckenziemae · 4 months ago

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A Little Bit Stronger

Part 4

(previous part here, next part here)

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x OFC

Summary: You get more bad news but it turns out to be a blessing in disguise

Just like everything else I write/post: this story is for 18+ only. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. It will contain smut, adult themes, situations and language. Please also note this story may be triggering due to the topic of domestic abuse (physical, emotional, sexual) violence-feel free to message me with any questions before reading.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Smut, mutual masturbation, a little voyeurism.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

The front door closing quietly wakes you the next morning, well, more like Hank jumping off the bed to see the person who opened it.

“Alright,” you yawn, stretching before you get up, feeling again well-rested. “Let’s go.”

He races down the stairs ahead of you, excited to see Bradley.

“Did I wake you?” He asks as you enter the kitchen, continuing when you shake your head. “Sorry, I get up early. Went for a run this morning.”

“You’re fine,” you smile, “Hank was just excited to see you. I usually get up early too, must’ve just been tired from yesterday. Is that why you’re called Rooster? You’re an early riser too?”

“Uh, yeah,” he says, turning pink as he rises from petting Hank to look in the fridge.

Now you’re totally convinced that there’s more to the story by his avoidance.

“I don’t have much besides eggs and toast,” he sighs, looking at the loaf of bread on the counter, “I’ve gotta get to the grocery store. I should warn you too, I can’t cook for shit.”

“That’s okay,” you reply as you open the door to let Hank outside, “I used to love cooking.”

“Yeah?” He doesn’t need to ask why you stopped loving it, assuming (correctly) it was because of Chad. “My mom was a great cook. I’d do anything to have one of her home-cooked meals again…that I complained about at the time, wanting McDonald’s or pizza instead.”

You laugh as you fill Hank’s food bowl, “I did the same thing, I think most kids do.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, grabbing the eggs and pulling out a pan. “The best was her meatloaf and homemade Mac and cheese. She left me a whole book of her recipes but it never ends well when I attempt them.”

“I could try making it,” you reply as you let Hank back inside, “if you want.”

“Really?” He lights up as he cracks an egg, “that’d be great.”

“Yeah,” you smile, “it’s been a while so I might be a little rusty, but I’d love to try. It’s the least I can do since you won’t let me pay you for staying here.”

“That’s not a big deal,” he murmurs. “Her recipe book is in there if you wanna take a look,” he nods to one of the drawers. “Do you like your eggs scrambled? Cause that’s all I can do.”

You laugh again, “Scrambled is perfect.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“Wanna invite Reese, Jake, and Drew over?” Bradley asks as he packs the groceries into the back of the Bronco, “I know the recipe makes a lot, we always had a ton of leftovers.”

“Sure,” you reply, buckling your seatbelt as he gets in the driver's seat. “Do you mind stopping at the post office? I should check my PO Box.”

“Not at all,” he replies, heading that way.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“Everything okay?” He asks when you frown, reading the letter from the court.

“The divorce hearing is scheduled for next Friday,” you reply.

“Isn’t that good?”

You nod, “It is, but I have to work. Thankfully it’s being conducted over the phone, but I don’t want to ask for time off when I’ve only been there a few weeks.”

“Reese will gladly take off,” Bradley assures you.

You sigh, “I hate asking her to, but I don’t think I have a choice. I don’t want to delay this any longer.”

“Do you have a lawyer?” He asks.

“Yes, but I’m not asking for anything from him; no alimony, nothing from the house…I don’t want or need any of that. I just need him to sign the papers and leave me alone.”

“Do you think he will?” He asks softly.

“I don’t know,” you whisper, “I hope so.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Bradley plays outside with Hank while you start the food; both recipes are easy enough to follow.

“It smells amazing,” he comes in just as you’re closing the oven. “Jake and Reese will be here any minute.”

“Good. Hopefully it tastes amazing too,” you smile, looking at him over your shoulder.

“I’m sure it will,” he replies, stepping close to dry his hands on the towel hanging on the oven door. “It’s looking better already,” he murmurs, his deep brown eyes on the fading bruise on your cheek before meeting your own.

Your eyes flick to his lips, fingers twitching as you fight the urge to bring him down to yours for a kiss.

You both jump when the doorbell rings.

“They’re here,” he says, before clearing the huskiness from his throat. “I’ll let them in.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “okay.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Bradley brings a round of beers outside while the food cooks inside, Drew’s giggling at Hank’s antics, and Reese is telling you and Jake about the trouble she and Bradley got up to with Andy back in the day when your phone rings.

The relaxed smile falls from your face when you recognize the number as your new landlord.

“Excuse me,” you say, stepping inside to answer it and check the food.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

The oven timer goes off just as you hang up the phone.

Somehow you manage not to get any of your tears on the food as you take out the dishes.

“Wow, everything looks great-hey what’s wrong?” Bradley asks when he sees your tears.

“That was my landlord,” you tell him, wiping your tears with the back of your hand, “he terminated my lease…that hadn’t even started.”

“What?” He asks, handing you a paper towel, “Why? How can he do that?”

“Said he overlooked something when I applied,” you sniff, “it’s just a bullshit excuse. This has Chad written all over it. God only knows how he figured out that’s where I was moving,” you inhale shakily, “I’m guessing he either bribed or threatened the landlord.”

He hesitates for a moment before gently wrapping his arms around you in a hug.

“Shit, that was stupid. I’m sor-“ He starts to let go when you stiffen instinctively but you shake your head once before allowing yourself to melt into his embrace. All of your anger, sadness, resentment, grief, and fear hitting you at once. Your shoulders begin shake from your suppressed sobs as you bury your face into his solid chest.

Neither of you hear the back door open again.

“Actually Drew, can you take Hank out one more time?”Jake says when he spots you, “I think he might have to go potty.”

“Sure! Come on,” he says, and the door closes a moment later.

“What’s wrong?” Reese asks, stroking your hair.

“I l-l-lost my apart-“ you take a deep breath before reluctantly pulling away, “I lost my apartment.”

Reese tears up and there’s a tick in Jake’s jaw as you explain everything.

“Oddly enough, I was thinking of taking next Friday off anyway,” Reese says when you tell her about the divorce hearing.

“Liar,” you laugh wetly, “but thank you.”

She just smiles.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“This is exactly like she made it,” Bradley murmurs, mostly to himself. You pretend not to notice the tears in his eyes.

“Roo, is Shae your girlfriend?” Drew asks a few minutes later.

Reese snorts as Bradley chokes on the food in his mouth, “No, she’s just my friend. Why?”

“Because she slept over last night,” he shrugs.

“Well, are you my boyfriend? You sleep over sometimes too,” Bradley asks, raising a brow.

“No!” Drew giggles, “I was just wondering. I thought when adults sleep over it means they’re dating. Jake sleeps over all the time in Mom’s room. He leaves really early in the morning though. I don’t know why he doesn’t just move in.”

You bite your lip to keep from laughing at the shocked look Jake and Reese share.

“Busted!” Bradley bursts out laughing, “not as sneaky as you thought, huh?”

“Oh fuck off,” Reese says, her and Jake laughing now too, “Drew, don’t repeat that.”

“I won’t,” he giggles.

“Shae is just a friend and she’s going to stay here for a while,” Bradley explains before clarifying, “in the guest room.”

Your lip quirks at that.

“But why?” Drew asks.

“Drew-“ Reese starts but you interrupt.

“I just moved here and it’s hard to find an apartment that allows big dogs,” you explain, not lying…just leaving out some details.

“That’s dumb,” Drew scoffs, “he’s such a good dog.”

“I think so too,” you smile.

“Do you like baseball?” He asks, changing the subject, “I love baseball…”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

You begin the apartment search again the next morning, requesting tours and submitting applications to anything that looks promising.

But by Thursday evening, you’ve gotten zero responses.

While discouraged, you weren’t exactly disappointed. It’s been a week since you’ve been staying with Bradley and you two already have fallen into a routine together; he quietly opens your door every morning to let Hank out so he doesn’t whine and wake you. Already gone by the time you got downstairs but had coffee, toast, and eggs waiting in the microwave. He’d gone home to let Hank out without you asking one day when you didn’t have time to take lunch. His delighted reactions to your cooking makes you remember why you loved it.

“Still nothing?” Bradley asks as he sits across from you while scrolling for a movie to turn on.

“Nothing,” you confirm with a sigh, “I promise I’ll be out of here soon though.”

“You don’t have to be,” he turns to you, but his eyes won’t meet yours, “I mean, there’s no rush.”

He hesitates so you wait for him to continue.

“It’s been really nice having someone else here,” he admits, “It gets…quiet living alone.”

His admission tugs at your heartstrings; you got lonely too.

“I understand. I do like having someone around. For little things like talking over dinner, watching movies together…and I can finally sleep. I don’t keep myself awake overthinking every little sound.”

“Good,” he murmurs, “you can stay for a while if you want. Until you find an apartment you like, or until things get better with your ex and you feel safe again.”

“Okay,” you agree, “but only if you let me pay you.”

“Sure,” he says as he returns to scrolling, “we’ll figure something out.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Bradley’s Bronco is already in the driveway when you pull in the following afternoon.

It was a long, exhausting day, but it’s over. You’re free.

It was conducted over the phone, so while you didn’t have to see Chad, you still had to hear his voice. He behaved though; his daddy must’ve been present.

“Bradley?” You call when you open the door, feeling better already as you step inside.

He doesn’t answer but Hank is relaxing at the top of the stairs. His tail thumps heavily as you make your way up.

“Hey pup,” you murmur, kissing the top of his head before passing him.

You realize where Bradley is when you enter your room and hear the shower running.

Having every intention of taking a nap, you flop down on the bed with a sigh and close your eyes.

Just to open them a minute later when you keep hearing something; a wet, rhythmic slapping.

Is he…? No. It’s none of your business if he’s jerking off.

Then he moans softly.

You ignore your body’s reaction.

It’s wrong…right?

There’s a thump above your head and you can’t help but picture him bracing his arm against the wall as he strokes himself.

“Oh,” he groans, then, “Shae.”

There’s no ignoring the arousal that rushes through your body before settling between your thighs.

You slide your hand down the front of your pants, gasping when you touch your clit, swollen and pulsing.

Your eyes fall shut as you circle your clit, listening to the sounds he makes and picture him while he’s apparently picturing you.

It’s been so long since you’ve had an orgasm that you’re on the brink in no time at all.

His gasped “fuck” above your ear is all it takes.

Your mouth falls open as you shudder through wave after wave of pent-up pleasure. Tears stream from your eyes at the long-overdue emotional release.

The shower turns off as you come back into your body and by the time you muster enough strength and coordination to get up to close the door, he’s already walking past.

“Shit!” He jumps when he glances into your room, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think you’d be home until later.”

But you hardly hear him; your eyes follow a droplet of water as it runs down his bare chest, wanting to follow it with your tongue. It’s absorbed the towel wrapped loosely on his hips.

A light tug would make it fall.

“Hey,” he notices your disheveled appearance and drying tears, “you okay? How did it go?”

That snaps you out of it.

“It’s-yeah,” you shake your head to clear it, “I just got here a minute ago. I’m…it was a long day.”

“I bet,” he nods, “I’ll listen if you want to talk about it or there’s beer in the fridge if you want to drink about it?”

“Drink about it,” you smile.

“Alright,” the way he grins makes your heart (and other parts) flutter.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

A/N: posting 2 chapters in 2 days-who even am I? I think I wrote over 5,000 words today 👀

Anyway…Shae is a single woman and things are s l o w l y heating up! What did y’all think?

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I LOVE hearing what you think in the comments/reblogs! Seriously, feedback helps me more than anything.

Please let me know if you want to be added to (or removed from) my taglist…and if I forgot to add you-it wasn’t intentional.

@lexixstewart

@dizzybee03

@its-the-pilot

@hookslove1592

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@atarmychick007

@littlezee80

@k-k0129

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@jessicab1991

@djs8891

@lonelysoul50

@mrsevans90

@landpiranha-blog

@bellaireland1981

@shanimallina87

@writtingrose

@fandomology101

@amiets2

@psuedochakra

@lyn-js

@averagereader35

@emma8895eb

@blindedbythelightt

@whitewolfsbitch

@sbdunksblog

@glowingtree

@thelightnddarkness

@seitmai

@els-marvelvsp

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #top gun maverick #top gun maverick smut

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poppadom0912 · 1 month ago

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HUUUGE congrats on the 1k!!! You really deserve it ❤️

If possible, I would like to order a 🍮 Jay Halstead + And They Were Roommates trope?

A/N: thank you so much for ordering. I hope it’s to your liking. Please enjoy!!

🍮🍮🍮🍮🍮

Your current living situation was partly out of your control, and it was partly your own fault. You couldn’t blame anyone but yourself to be honest.

Long story short, med school had made you gone broke and your rocky relationship with your family only made your financial hardships even worse.

So when it came to moving closer to your aunt who said she could house you, you weren’t expecting to be reunited with a boy from your past.

Well, not a boy anymore. Jay Halstead was a fully grown man who was somehow fully functioning and had a full-time job. Coincidentally, he too had just moved back to Chicago and was looking for a new home.

So, when you shared your own housing struggles, he was very generous in his offer to move in with him. And it was a very tempting offer as here you were three years later, living in an apartment with the aforementioned man.

A lot of the time, both of you were swamped with work. You were finishing off your residency in trauma surgery and he was just getting comfortable with his new team.

Over the course of three years, both of you were able to reconnect and your childhood acquaintance had now become one of your closest friends. After hard days at work, it was easy to come home and be comfortable, knowing that you could relax and no matter what happened to you, he remained a constant.

Your roommate. That’s what he was and no matter all the teasing you got from your friends, that’s what he was going to remain.

🍮🍮🍮🍮🍮

It was a very busy day at work. It seemed that it might’ve been a full moon because not only was the emergency department filled to the brim, but these accidents were ridiculous and almost unbelievable.

You had been in back-to-back surgeries, barely anytime to yourself before the next patient came rushing in. And unfortunately for the ED, the accidents weren’t stopping soon and now the police were getting involved.

If you saw Jay in passing, rushing to the surgery theatre, then that was a problem for later to figure out if he was working or if he was laying on a gurney half dead.

Two hours later you had your answer. The brunet was in deep discussion with his brother when you finished surgery, and the ED had finally calmed down.

With slumped shoulders, you dragged your feet towards the brothers.

“Hey, how was the surgery?” Will asked. The patient you operated on had initially been his on intake.

“She’s all good. The internal bleeding wasn’t as bad as we thought.” You replied, a tired smile on your face before you turned to the other man.

“What brings you here trouble?” You asked, amusement laced in your words.

Jay rolled his eyes, but you knew it wasn’t true by the smirk on his lips. “Making sure you don’t make a mess like you did this morning.”

You gasped in faux hurt, hand clutching your chest at the accusation and audacity. “Excuse you, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sureeee.” Jay dragged out, nodding as he sarcastically retorted back.

“No, I won't have this.” You said, scoffing. “Who was the one who cleaned up everything last night after a long shift because someone got called in to work and left the entire apartment in a mess.”

You continued on, proudly naming the messes he made, unaware of how he was looking at you.

“Ugh, how dare you. I’m finishing the last portion of pasta. You can make your own dinner.” You finished after nearly seven minutes, a satisfied smile on your face as you ‘won.’

Without waiting to hear his reply, you walked away, a pep in your step.

“Ew, jay please get a grip.” Will complained when you left, his face screwing up in disgust at the look on his brother's face.

“Reese, on behalf of both of them, I am so sorry you had to see that.” Will apologised to the younger woman who had been there the entire time, her face stuck in its shock at the encounter she just witnessed.

“Why are they?” Reese asked, frozen and unable to finish her sentence.

“They’re roommates Reese.” Will nodded, his face solemn. He had been a witness to this tragic pair for way too long now.

“Just roommates… nothing more?” She asked in disbelief, her eyes stuck on the detective who was still looking at you longingly from afar. If she didn’t know any better, shed call him a creep but this, she had to admit, was kinda cute.

“Unfortunately, they’re just roommates.”

🍮🍮🍮🍮🍮

Your cheeks were hurting from just how much you were laughing. Anymore and you’d have a stomach-ache.

At the sight of Will standing up from besides Jay, you could only fear the worst. Right now, anything could happen.

“I’ve known Y/N for nearly as long as I’ve known Jay. Her mum was close with ours and so we all grew up together and when they both went their own ways after school, no one ever thought they would meet again, let alone move in together.”

“And so, they were roommates.” Will continued, a nostalgic smile on his face as he turned to look at the pair that had caused him so much strife. “Being roommates is what started this relationship and is what caused all of us a lot of grief but after all of our efforts, they finally made it.”

“I’m sure these idiots would’ve made it without out intervention, even if it would’ve taken another three years but Jay’s been embarrassed enough so I won’t say anything more.”

Will held up his glass, “Here’s to the happy couple and to the rest of their lives being roommates.”

Everyone cheered.

#one chicago x reader #one chicago imagine #one chicago fic #jay halstead x reader #chicago med #chicago pd #jay halstead #jay halstead oneshot #jay halstead imagine

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notsohornytoad · 2 months ago

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Ok here we go. My first poolverine idea. So it’s simple you have Alpha Worst!Logan who is known as a monstrous alpha no sane omega dared to be with for more than a night in his universe(even before the x-men were killed) and Omega Wade who lost his looks after everything with Francis and smells like death enough that no worthy alpha spares him a glance for more than a night. That’s background, the scene I’m specifically picturing is Logan being unable to take not saying anything about his feelings for Wade anymore and presenting Wade with a courtship gift(Logan’s dog tags because I love that idea); I don’t know who is more surprised Wade(because who would a beauty who is no longer beautiful) that Logan wants to court him(ie wants him as a mate) or Logan(because who wants a beast that will never become a prince) when Wade doesn’t hesitate(after being sure Logan is serious) to accept(putting the dog tags around his neck immediately).

Here you go! It’s a little longer than I anticipated but I got a little carried away. I also posted it on my AO3. I hope you like it!!

Tags

“C’mon. You can do this.” Logan whispered under his breath to the reflection of himself in the water-spotted mirror of his bathroom. The bathroom was sparsely decorated, much like the rest of his apartment which he had acquired shortly after Wade had asked him to come home with him.

It wasn’t that Wade and Al’s apartment was too small or that Logan wanted more (in fact the apartment he had chosen was much smaller than Wade’s despite having been given more than enough money to survive on by the TVA) but rather that it made him too close to the merc for comfort.

Wade had delightfully informed him that due to the apartment’s cramped size he would have to share the sofa bed with him. Which at first sounded fine; he had shared many a bed with people before in hostels, barracks, etc.

This was different.

That first night, Wade had bound out of the bathroom in his My Melody pajamas, a plump unicorn plush tucked cutely under his arm.

“Are you ready for the most fun sleepover ever? I went out and got so many snacks. There’s mini Reese’s cups, Sour Patch Kids… I even found a box of Jujubes waaaay back in one of the cupboards that I THINK is from the 80’s but come on, they’ve got so much preservatives we’ll probably be fine… plus our teeth grow back if we break them anyway so—“

“I’d rather just get some sleep, Wade. We kind of had a long day remember?” Logan was wearing an oversized shirt that said “Obi-Wan ComeBoneMe” that he had graciously borrowed from the other man, as well as some heart patterned boxers.

“Yeah, ok. I am pretty tired.” Wade said, obviously not very tired, as he plopped down next to Logan.

Logan gave him a sort of half-smile.

“Goodnight, Wade.”

“Night, Peanut.”

Wade reached over and turned off the table lamp. Logan waited for the inevitable yapping to start… but it never came. Despite being seemingly full of energy mere minutes prior, Wade fell asleep quickly. He was drooling.

Sleep never came easy for Logan, however. He stared at the dark ceiling, his mind racing, going over every detail of the past few days, back to the day Wade found him, plastered in that bar, wishing he could die.

He thought of Scott, of Jean. The people he let down. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes and his breath quickened a bit. A familiar feeling.

As he gripped the sheets beneath him, waiting for the panic to set in, Wade moved in his sleep. His arm went over Logan and he cuddled his face into his neck. He was mumbling something about a taco truck.

Logan went stiff. His heart was racing, yet a strange calm washed over him, almost like an ecstasy. It was Wade’s scent. They had been close like this before, many times… but there had been too many distractions: blood, adrenaline, his own anger. Here in the quiet of the night, it was amplified.

Wade’s scent was uniquely his own. There were layers to it, like a designer perfume. The most prevalent smell, which is what most alphas would abhor, was death. A sickly sweet warning provided by the cancer that ravaged his body, the cancer that his healing factor kept at bay.

Logan, however, had a nose that was far more keen. And as he lie there, just slowly breathing in and out, the base layer became more prevalent. This was Wade’s original scent: his omega flavor.

It somewhat startled Logan that he hadn’t noticed this before. Wade was an omega. How could he have not sensed it? Of course no one else did either, it seemed… maybe it was the fact that his smell of decay was too strong for the average alpha to scent… maybe it was just that Wade’s power to annoy and piss people off was so distracting that even if someone did get a whiff they thought it couldn’t be true. But it was.

And it was intoxicating.

In the morning that followed, Logan awoke to Wade nudging his nose into Logan’s neck.

“Mornin,’” he said, his voice full of sleep, as he sat up and stretched. “Guess I really was too tired, I don’t even remember falling asleep. How’d you sleep, pumpkin?”

“….great,” Logan said, surprised by his answer. He really did.

Wade rambled on about breakfast and how he had to take Mary Puppins out for a walk, but the rest of the conversation sort of became noise to Logan. He was unable to process anything. All he could think was…

It was dangerous.

He was dangerous.

He was reminded of all the people he had loved in the past. How he always ended up (either physically or emotionally) hurting them.

And so that day, he had left.

It wasnt too hard to find an apartment. People in this world thought he was the other Logan- the brave, selfless Logan. So someone cut him a deal on a tiny apartment that was about a twenty minute walk from Wade’s.

At first he hadn’t thought to really buy any furniture. He thought that just sleeping on a mattress on the floor was enough. But when Wade had invited himself over the following day and said “damn bitch, you live like this?” He decided to get a couch.

Then a few days after that, Wade had showed up with a bunch of food. He tried to protest but the other man had already bodied himself through the door, Mary Puppins in tow.

They ate together on the couch and watched YouTube videos on Wade’s phone. He didn’t know what a “Minecraft Let’s Play” was but it didn’t really matter. The next day, he found a cheap dinner table with two chairs on Craigslist.

And so it continued. Wade would visit every day, with a big smile on his face and dinner in a bag. And every night he’d go home, but his scent lingered. Logan found that he would sleep on the couch instead of his floor mattress because it was where Wade had been sitting all night.

It was strange to not have night terrors.

It was even stranger that Wade, an omega, had been leaving his scent on everything and yet it hadn’t drove Logan crazy. The past had been so predictable: an omega would leave their scent as invitation for a rough night from a rough man. Most got more than they bargained for. None ever stayed.

Before he knew it, months had passed. His apartment was still barebones by most people’s standards but he had the essentials. Mostly thanks to Laura.

“Thanks again for helping me figure this thing out,” he said, tossing his smartphone on the table. It was a Saturday, which was usually the day they spent time together.

“Well you did say the phones in your universe were different.” Laura said, after swallowing a mouthful of Corn Flakes.

“Yeah they were like little bricks and the screens were like green and black. But you couldn’t break em if you tried.”

“So when are you gonna tell him?” She said with her mouth full.

“Tell who what?” Logan’s brow furrowed as he emerged from the fridge with a cold beer.

“Wade.” Chew chew.

“Okay. And what am I telling him?” He asked before cracking the can open and throwing it back.

“That you want him to be your mate.” Chew.

Logan inhaled, choking on liquid. He doubled over, sputtering.

“Cmon,” Laura said. “Don’t lie to me. I can smell it on you. I can smell him everywhere. Scent doesn’t lie.”

And so here he was. It had been about two weeks since she had brought it up and it took him three days to accept it. Three days of Wade coming over and Logan finally noticing how his heart swelled whenever he looked at him, how he felt less annoyed by his constant jokes, how his flirting made a heat rise up in his chest.

The rest of the time was him building up the courage to confess.

“God.” Logan looked down at his left hand which was balled into a fist, a long ball chain hanging down from it. Slowly his fist opened and he stared at the metallic tags that bore his name.

“Cmon. You’re not a teenager. This ain’t prom. Just do it.” he started to walk towards the door, but stopped, feeling a wave of nausea. I can’t. He won’t want you. He flirts with everyone. It doesn’t mean anything.

Just as he started to turn around, a voice came from the other side of the door.

“Wolvy? Did you fall in or something?” There was a knock. “I didn’t bring my water wings I don’t know if I’ll be able to fish you —“

Logan opened the door.

“—out. Oh good you’re ok.” There was Wade, grinning at him like an idiot. A stupid, adorable, lovable moron. Logan suppressed the urge to hug him to his chest.

“Sorry.” He said, pushing past the other, as if he were going to the dinner table. It was covered with white Chinese food boxes. “Don’t you think you went a little overboard? There’s enough here for ten people.”

“Yeah sorry. But the lady that runs that place threatened to poison me if I didn’t get one of everything cuz her restaurant is close to going bankrupt and she had this huge knife—“

Logan had stepped up to Wade and covered his mouth with a hand.

Only moments ago, he had thought “it’s now or never” but now that Wade was shut up the silence felt smothering. Logan lowered his hand.

“I…. Uh….” God his throat was dry. Why was it so hot in there?

Wade looked bewildered, his beautiful mouth slightly agape, and Logan couldn’t help but think about how kissable his lips were.

“So I uh… been thinking…” he started, cursing himself for rambling. Shouldn’t this be romantic? Why was he so shit with words when it mattered?

“That uh… maybe you could wear these.” He held up his hand, palm up, almost showcasing the tags. “For me.”

Wade’s eyes had been glued to Logan’s face as he talked. He slowly lowered them, until they rested on the glinting metal.

“…..your…. Those are your tags.” He said, his voice uncharacteristically small.

“Yeah.”

“But that would…. mean…”

“Yeah.”

Logan couldn’t tell what sort of expression Wade had on. He was staring blankly at the tags, before he looked up and locked eyes with him.

“That’s not funny.” Wade said, his eyes glassy, as though he were holding back tears.

“What- what do you mean funny? I’m being serious.” Logan said.

“Right. Mr Most-Handsome-Man-in-the-Universe, courting Pizza the Hutt.”

Logan didn’t know that reference. “Huh??”

“Hello??” Wade waved his hand over his own face. “Freddy Krueger’s Ball Sack? The Mince Meat Special? Arby’s Beef and Cheddar?!” A small tear has snuck its way down his face.

Logan couldn’t believe it. He had been so obsessed with the thought that Wade would reject him for being, well, the worst Wolverine, he didn’t plan for this scenario.

“You’re not ugly.” He stated, factually. It was starting to make him mad, the way Wade was talking about himself.

“Okay, now I know you’re going senile. We’re gonna have to get you some glasses grandpa, because I literally make babies cry. I am so ugly that—“

“Shut up.” Logan growled, before taking a step forward and pressing his lips to Wade’s. When Wade didn’t kiss back, he pulled away.

Had he made a mistake? Of course he had. Why would Wade want a failure like him? He couldn’t even get his feelings across right.

“You….” Wade said, blinking dumbly. “You kissed me.”

Logan felt shame. He swallowed, ready to apologize.

“You’re… serious? You want me?” Wade asked, his voice small again.

Logan couldn’t find his voice. He just nodded once.

A grin slowly spread across Wade’s face. He leaned forward, bowing his head. Logan almost forgot to breathe as he shakily unclasped the ball chain and placed it around Wade’s neck, securing it behind him.

When Logan let go, Wade stood up straight, Logan’s dog tags around his neck.

“Well? How do I look?” Wade asked, his grin never faltering.

“Beautiful.” Logan answered. And he was. Beautiful. His.

“Oooh does this mean we’re gonna bump uglies now?!”

His beautiful idiot.

#poolverine #deadclaws #fanfic #fic request #alpha beta omega #omegaverse #one shot #my writing

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starkwlkr · 3 months ago

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Imagine a Hugh Jackman x reader where one of their kids gets a nightmare and wants the wolverine to scare the monsters away? Reader walking into the scene of Hugh in a children’s wolverine costume trying to cheer them up?? Have a great day and take care of yourself :D

the monsters gone and your daddys’s here | hugh jackman

an: thanks anon for the request! this was such a cute idea 🥹

marvel actress!reader masterlist

Alex was a heavy sleeper so when his younger brother, Reese, whispered his name, the boy continued snoring. Reese had trouble sleeping, but he never told his parents. Why? He thought the scary monster under his bed would get them if Reese told them.

Even with his stuffed animals and blanket, Reese still couldn’t sleep. He then remembered that his dad had bought them walkie talkies for christmas. Hugh kept one on his nightstand. The boys usually called in if they wanted a bedtime story or just to say I love you. Right now more than ever, Reese needed his dad to scare away the monsters.

He grabbed the device from his nightstand and turned it on. He pressed the button and called for Hugh.

“Dad? Can you hear me?” Reese released the button hoping Hugh would immediately reply.

On the other end, Hugh heard it. It took a few tries from Reese to finally get him to wake up, but eventually he did. You were sleeping with Olivia beside you, he didn’t want either of you to wake up so he quickly answered it.

“Hey, what’s wrong buddy?” He asked.

“I can’t sleep.” He responded nervously.

“Why?”

It took a few seconds, but Reese finally decided to tell Hugh what was wrong. “There’s scary monsters and I’m scared. What if they get you and mom! And what if they get Alex and Olivia!?”

Hugh’s heart shattered after hearing his boy. He wondered for how long the scary monsters had been bothering Reese. “They’re not going to get any of you, I will always protect you.”

“Can you scare them away? With your claws?”

Ever since the boys watched X-Men, they were convinced Hugh had metal claws that came out his knuckles. He didn’t have the heart to tell them it was fake so he bought a cheap wolverine costume from the store and used the claws when they were around.

“I’ll be there in a second.” He assured the boy. Reese mumbled an ‘okay’ into the walkie talkie then ended the conversation. Hugh got up from the bed, making sure not to disturb you or Olivia. He got the plastic claws and wolverine mask from the drawer and put them on. He then walked to the boys’ room and opened the door.

“Where are those ugly little monsters, bub?” Hugh asked, getting into character.

Reese, without saying a word, pointed to under his bed. He watched as Hugh adjusted the mask and got down to his knees. “I’ll get rid of those monsters. They won’t stand a chance.” He went down and started ‘fighting’ the monsters. In reality, only toys and dirty clothes were under the boy’s bed. Hugh made fighting sounds so to Reese it genuinely seemed like he was getting rid of monsters.

“Oh this guy is done for! Get out of here!” Hugh continued.

“Did you get all of them, dad?” Reese, too scared to look, asked.

“All of what?” Both Reese and Hugh heard your voice. You stood at the door rubbing your tired eyes. What was going on? You wished you knew.

“Dad is getting rid of all the monsters!” Reese told you.

“Aaaaaand that’s all of them,” Hugh got up from the floor and took off his mask. He started breathing heavily and wiped away his ‘sweat’. “You got nothing to worry about, Reese. Dad took care of all the scary monsters.” He gave Reese a kiss on the forehead.

“Thanks dad.” Reese whispered. He looked over at Alex, who was still sleeping. How could Alex be asleep while the wolverine just scared away all the monsters? At least Reese had a good story to tell at breakfast.

“You alright, baby?” You asked Reese.

The boy nodded. “Dad scared them away. I can sleep now.”

“I’ll see you in the morning.” Hugh whispered to Reese then walked over to you. He mumbled a good night to Reese and closed the door.

“I am dreading the day we have to tell them Wolverine is just a comic book character.” You sighed.

“Let’s just enjoy this moment. Yesterday, Alex told me I was his favorite hero.” Hugh walked back with you to the bedroom.

“Wolverine or not, you’ll always be their hero. They know you’ll always be there to protect them.”

Hugh didn’t care if he had to fight imaginary monsters, he would always protect his kids. He just hoped they wouldn’t get too upset when they find out he doesn’t have metal claws.

@kellyxo1 @ru-kru @barnes70stark @flyestvenustrap @evasmlp

#hugh jackman blurb #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman one shot #hugh jackman imagine #hugh jackman fanfic #hugh jackman fanfiction #hugh jackman #marvel actress!reader #actress!reader

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righteous-r0de0 · 3 months ago

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surprise surprise i have more useless headcanons :)

vincent plays a lot of different instruments at varying skill levels (french horn and cello are his favorites). william made him learn in an effort to reinvigorate his zest for life after being turned

after ivan’s memories were changed he fell into a really deep depression and always felt guilty and he just didn’t know why

angel got david hooked on jane the virgin. he was team michael but his favorite character is alma (jane’s grandmother)

caelum’s favorite food his spaghetti. he always makes a huge mess, so gav and freelancer circumvent this (kinda) by doing that thing where you wrap the table in cling wrap or tinfoil and forgo plates and silverware

gavin trip sits for the rest of the damn crew when they smoke. he only messes with damien a little bit

lasko is NOT a lightweight but he is a weepy drunk (ie “i just love you guys so much” absolutely sobbing)

damien gets so silly when he’s sleep deprived, laughing at everything, making dirty jokes etc

kody bleached his hair and freelancer didn’t recognize him until they were practically right next to him

huxley gets very grumpy when he’s sleep deprived, whining, crossing his arms, frowning. he doesn’t yell or anything but you just KNOW when he’s tired

if you put anything green apple flavored in front of asher, he’s absolutely tearing it up

james loves indian food. his local place always asks after him whenever his spouse orders when they miss him a lot

marcus majored in game design, but later switched to computer science and programming. he also really liked geology

anton really likes half and half (iced tea/lemonade)

ollie looks like he listens to classic white girl pop or something similar but you pull his airpods out and he’s actually listening to either heavy metal or very disturbing true crime podcasts

elliot can swing dance

brachium erased even the memories of him from sunshine, elliot, aaron, and smartass

avior loves soups and stews any kind of food he can drink

milo loves hot chip (takis, hot cheetos, doritos) they make his nose run but he can’t stop

camelopardalis is a cat person

blake wanted to be a firefighter when he was a kid, but it changed when he met bestie. after that his only aspiration was to be theirs.

if aaron is given the option of sausage or bacon, he’s choosing bacon

sam can sew a little bit like mending seams and patching holes

vega doesn’t like human food. he thinks it’s strange. but he does like cheesecake.

regulus used to really enjoy cereal

geordi’s favorite fruit is bananas

guy LOVES bo burnham

morgan is really good at point and shoot games. it’s nothing to do with the sight or anything, they’re just his favorite

hush really likes chocolate and chocolate flavored things

porter’s favorite candy is reese’s peanut butter cups dude is a fiend for them

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted fandom #redacted headcanons #i’m not gonna tag all of them lol

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soffis-mbm · 1 month ago

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HIIIIIII <333333 RLLY LOVE YOU AND YOUR GAMEEEE, RAAAAAAAH

I need more information about bby grill Fames 😋 Like... What if the player can romance the cook? Is Fames also just grumpy everyday or is it because he's tired from cooking all day 🫡 (or does he enjoy cooking?) HFFUJGRRS TBH, JUST DUMP AS MUCH AS INFO ABOUT HIM (even if you think it's useless info 😋😋 I'll gladly gobble and read all of it down)

🥹🥹🥹🥹 thank you for making this game (I love Nulla and you <33333 MORE FANART IS COMING ALONG IN THE FUTURE TOO)

Halloooo Reese! Thank you for your lovely comment 💕

Okay, sooo

I've been thinking about implementing a mini Fames route for some time now... ajdjsjf but I still have to think about how to do it.

Fames is diligent about his work, he takes it very seriously. But outside of his job he's a little more relaxed and sarcastic.

When Fames talks about the smell that humans have, he says he doesn't like it but... that's a lie. No entity in the garden resists humans, much less their smell or essence. so those comments are to deny and convince himself otherwise. After all, he works day and night cutting meat he can't eat.

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holy-puckslibrary · 11 months ago

Text

━ 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐟

˗ˏˋ𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ˎˊ˗

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 —grumpy!erik johnson x sunshine!nanny!reader 𝐰𝐜 — 1.1k 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 — in erik's absence, his nanny takes over staging the family's elf on the shelf in order to keep the magic alive for his children. results are... questionable.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — i'm unhealthily attached to this made-up family send help

˗ˏˋ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ˎˊ˗

JOSIE JOHNSON is thoroughly unimpressed by her Elf.

“Snow angels? In sprinkles? Groundbreaking.”

Dissatisfaction narrows her gray-blue eyes as she stands in front of the kitchen island.

Bernard, the Johnson family’s special scout from the North Pole, is lying limp against the marble countertop in a pool of red and green. The sugary spillage is low-effort at best, especially compared to his iPad drive-in movie yesterday and the miniature golf course the day before that.

Dumping a container of cheap sprinkles—and not even the expensive variety with confetti shapes and edible glitter—wasn’t going to cut it.

Someone was going to have to do better.

“Uh-oh! Looks like Bernard had a wild night,” Erik Johnson, her father, announces as he pads in from the dining room.

If he thinks he’s being subtle, he’s doing a terrible job. His daughter can see straight through him; his voice goes all sorts of wonky when he has a secret.

And his dye-stained fingertips aren’t doing him any favors, either.

“Wild for who? A first grader?”

Josie was in second grade now. She is far too smart to fall for his poor acting and, evidently, much too cool to bother with humoring him.

Erik cocks his head to the side. His kid could be snarky, but she typically postponed doling out remarks until the afternoon. Or until he’s had his second helping of caffeine.

Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today, he thinks to himself.

Aloud, though, he opts for a simple joke. “Well, I think it was wild. Do I look like a first grader to you?”

He sets his coffee mug beside the espresso machine and puffs out his chest like a peacock. Erik’s already 6’4 without trying, so when he raises both hands and lefts onto his tip-toes for emphasis, his head nearly brushes the ceiling. He’s grinning, wide and bright.

He expects his daughter to giggle at his antics like she did when she was younger or, at the very least, crack a reluctant smile out of second-hand embarrassment.

She does neither.

Rather than pearly teeth, Erik’s met with the whites of her eyes. If Josie had rolled them any harder, they'd have gotten stuck facing the wrong way. That’s what her older brother, Reese, told her whenever she did it.

The irony of the repeated red-lettered phrase "Be Nice!" on the white background of her Grinch-themed pajamas isn’t lost on him.

“Josephine Johnson, I thought I made myself clear the last time we talked about this; you do not roll your eyes at me. Or anyone, for that matter. It’s very rude,” he reprimands sternly. “What’s gotten into you?”

Josie crosses her arms, unphased, and fixes him with an unwavering glare. She could do this all day if need be.

“What’d she do this time?” Reese asks through a yawn as he strolls into the kitchen.

You, the family’s live-in nanny, are not far behind. You’re rubbing the sleep from the corners of your tired eyes when Josie darts to your side.

She looks up at you expectantly, eyes wide and pleading. Silently, they beg for you to agree to whatever she’s planning to say next.

“Can you be in charge of it again? Please, please, please?” she asks, so sweetly she might give herself a cavity.

Josie tugs on your arm to drive home her adolescent anguish when you aren’t instantly compliant.

Panic fizzles in your chest. There was no way she knew, right?

She couldn’t. No way. You were still a few years off from the dicey reveal. No one in her grade had spilled the beans yet, and the adults in her life were content to keep up the ruse.

Surely, she meant as the Elf’s supervisor or an assistant.

Wrong.

“Bernard looks so much cooler whenever Dad lets you set up his pranks instead of doing it himself. See? Look how lazy he was this time,” Josie explains while tugging you over to the scene of the crime. “All he did was spill my sprinkles all over the counter and set my Elf on top of the mess. Like, could it get any lamer than that? He’s probably all sticky now, and he’ll have to stay that way because he’d drown in the washing machine!”

“No, I didn’t,” Erik says a little too quickly, tone noticeably defensive. “Bernard—who is perfectly fine and not sticky at all, for the record—must’ve been way too tired when he got back from visiting Santa last night to do anything else. He didn’t even bother making it hard for you to find him this morning. I’d do something “lame” too if I spent the entire night flying home from far, far away.”

Bernard wasn't the only member of their household who spent the night up in the inky sky; Erik had been in an entirely different country only four hours ago. And, instead of going straight to bed like his body urged him, he spent an hour arranging the stupid little Elf into what he thought was a fun scenario for his daughter to find the following morning.

Now, he wishes he had just left Bernard on the mantle.

He blames you. They wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t introduced her to the concept. Fuck your quirky childhood tradition. All it'd caused were problems.

“I’m not a baby anymore. I know Bernard isn’t actually one of Santa’s elves!” Josie shouts, growing angry.

Reese mumbles something to the effect of “Could’ve fooled me…” under his breath, and Josie’s face pinches with frustration.

Like the miniature teenager she’s rapidly morphing into, the youngest Johnson massages the fold between her eyebrows. Then, her outburst matures into an accusation. “I know you’ve been hiding him this whole time.”

Erik balks at the allegation.

Irritated, she continues, “I’ve been sneaking down to watch you do it since I was, like, five years old. It's not my fault you aren't very observant. Or that your footsteps sound like an elephant’s. But I don’t care about that. I don't care that I know, but I do care how much effort you put into it.”

Josie clutches your hand in hers and smiles. She could get away with murder with the deep dimples indented on either side of her mouth —and she knows it, too.

She also knows flattery can get her wherever she wants. “Which is why I want you to take over again. You did such a good job while he was away. The goldfish in the paper pond was super cute, and you even made sure he was watching my favorite movie at the drive-in!"

“Fine, you know what? You’re right,” Erik confesses, conceding to his eight-year-old with a toss of his hands. “And if it really matters that much, I’ll never touch the Elf again. Okay? I give up full control and responsibility.”

Josie positively beams. She always got her way eventually.

“So, how did you even figure it out, anyway?” Reese asks.

The question is garbled; he couldn’t wait until his mouth wasn’t full of Lucky Charms to make his inquiry.

“How could I not?” Josie retorts. Her facial expression is equal parts annoyance and ridicule. Reese’s eyes loop. His little sister clarifies with a huff, “Obviously, he isn’t a real elf, Reese. Santa needs all the help he can get to make sure everyone on the Nice List gets exactly what they asked for every year. Why would he send an actual elf, who should be building a bike or sewing a teddy bear, to spy on me for weeks?”

Fair point, you think to yourself.

“Wait a minute... If you knew he wasn’t real the entire time, why did you let us keep hiding him?” Erik asks, a quizzical dent in his forehead.

Josie perks up, apparently thrilled to clue them in on the motivation behind her feigned ignorance. “Mrs. Thornton says even adults need a creative outlet because it makes them happier. Especially when they’re grouchy. Clearly, you’re the exception, Daddy.”

Reese honks, sending milk across the room from his nostrils.

Your sudden amusement is muffled by your free hand.

If it were humanly possible, there would be steam billowing from Erik’s crimson ears.

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agaypanic · 1 year ago

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I'm not really good at requesting stuff but can you do more malcom smut stories kinda like the ones you did with reese

Stop Talking (Malcolm Wilkerson X Reader Smut)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Sick of your boyfriend’s complaining, you make an offhanded comment about his mouth. He takes it seriously.

A/N: i have another malcolm request for a first time smut, so this one’s gonna be malcolm giving reader head bc i dont have any other smut ideas lol btw characters are of age obvi and also kinda ooc malcolm i think ?? idk man

CW: oral sex (fem recieving), fingering, slight praise kink, edging, begging

***

Malcolm was always one to run his mouth about anything. Whether it was about some new book he was reading or some new problem he was having. You learned it was best to just nod along and hum in understanding, even if you didn’t have a clue what he was saying. Most of the time, Malcolm wanted an ear more than advice.

But sometimes, your ears would get tired.

“Reese is being such a dick!” Malcolm ranted, pacing around the room while you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Uh-huh.” You said tiredly.

“He’s always wrecking my stuff, and he doesn’t even care. And no one does anything about it!”

“Very true.”

“Mom and Dad should’ve sent him to military school instead of Francis. It would’ve been less of a waste of money.”

“Reese probably would’ve unionized the cadets in a week.”

Malcolm turned to you, looking betrayed and angry. If you weren’t growing annoyed, you probably would’ve laughed.

“Malcolm, baby, you have got to learn to loosen up. Look at yourself; you’re working up a sweat over Reese breaking your pencil when any other day he would’ve broken your face.” You sat up, staring your boyfriend down. “Plus, I’m getting sick of this rant of yours. I’ve heard it hundreds of times.”

“Oh, so you’re on his side?” Malcolm asked incredulously, putting his hands on his hips and tilting his head. You whined, tossing yourself back onto your bed.

“Oh geez, suck my clit, Malcolm. It’d be such a better use of your mouth.” You shut your eyes, clearly done with the whole conversation. Malcolm didn’t say anything, so you assumed it was the same for him. Finally, you had peace and quiet.

Until you were suddenly yanked down your mattress by the ankles, stopping when your legs were hanging off the edge of the bed. Your eyes shot wide open, coming face to face with your boyfriend.

“What do you want me to do?” Malcolm asked. His hands left your ankles to drag up the length of your legs, stopping at the sides of your thighs to squeeze at the flesh. Based on the tone of his voice, it was like he was challenging you.

“Excuse me?” You asked. But then you noticed his expression. Malcolm had a slight smile, and despite the color being icy blue, there was a certain darkness to his eyes.

“Say it again.” You’ve had sex with him before, but you’ve never seen Malcolm like this. Maybe it was the anger that had been boiling inside him, and you saying what you did was pushing him to relieve that anger differently. “Say it again, and I’ll do it.” Malcolm kneaded your thighs as he waited for a response, and if he wasn’t kneeling on the edge of your bed in between your legs right now, you’d clench them for some relief.

“Please.” He tsked in response, shaking his head slightly.

“Gotta say it, Y/n.”

Part of you was embarrassed to do so. Saying it as a joke or little insult was one thing. But saying it as a request, especially while Malcolm looked down at you like this, was so much harder.

“Suck my clit.” Malcolm kissed you deeply in response, an arm moving to hook under your waist while the other pulled a leg to wrap around his hips, making your skirt ride up. You eagerly returned the affection, moaning into Malcolm’s mouth as his growing erection grinded against your clothed clit.

Malcolm’s lips left yours, kissing down your neck and chest until he reached the bunched-up fabric of your skirt. His fingers went to slip under the waistband of your panties, pulling them agonizingly slow down your legs as if he knew the anticipation was killing you. When the fabric was completely off of you, Malcolm started kissing up your thighs, stopping at the apex where he ghosted over your eager core.

“Malcolm, come on.” You begged, wiggling your hips towards him. He gave into your plea, burying his face into your pussy and dragging his tongue through your slit before circling your clit. You jolted at the delicious contact, letting Malcolm manhandle your lower half so your legs were now dangling over his shoulders.

Your back arched off the mattress as Malcolm sucked on your clit. You were entirely correct; this was such a better use for his mouth. You two would probably do this every time he wanted to unnecessarily complain, but then you’d never come out of your room.

“So good, Malcolm, you’re so good.” Malcolm quickly became drunk off your mewling praises, gently nipping at your bud before sucking again. You planted a hand in his hair, pushing his head even closer, if that was possible.

Your grip had him groaning into your pussy, vibrations coursing through you while you tried not to squeeze his head with your thighs. Sensing you were quickly getting to the edge, Malcolm released one of your thighs to ease a finger into your quivering hole. Then he added a second, making you try to rock your hips in time to the quick thrusts of his digits.

Right when you were about to come, Malcolm pulled his mouth off of you and slowed his hand’s movements. You whined.

“Malcolm, please.”

“I dunno, Y/n. I don’t think you deserve it; you were pretty mean to me.” He was teasing you and enjoying the hell out of it. Malcolm gave a quick lap at your clit, not enough to send you over the edge but enough to make your breath hitch, wishing for more. “Maybe you should beg for it.”

“Malcolm, please, I’m so close.” That wasn’t enough for him, as he shook his head in false disappointment.

“Oh, come on, Y/n. You can do better than that.” He pressed up into that spongy spot inside of you, making you moan loudly.

“Please, fuck, please lemme come, Malcolm. I promise I’ll be good. Just let me come.” You ground yourself down on his fingers, hoping that that plus your words would be enough to convince him. It was, and in a flash, Malcolm was licking and sucking on your bud again, finger moving at what felt like lightning speed.

He didn’t let up as you climaxed, instead riding you through it while your eyes rolled back and you made incomprehensible noises. He continued the rough pace until you came down from your high and started jolting from the oversensitivity. Then he slowed to a stop, giving your clit one last kiss that made you shutter before coming up to be face to face with you.

You kissed Malcolm, tasting yourself on your tongue. It almost made you want to shove his head back down. But you pulled away, feeling something hard against you. You looked down and smirked before looking up at your now rosy-cheeked boyfriend.

“Want me to return the favor?”

#malcolm wilkerson x reader #malcolm wilkerson #malcolm wilkerson x reader smut #malcolm in the middle x reader #malcolm in the middle #agaypanic

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impishtubist · 2 years ago

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happy birthday, reese <3

For @r33sespieces :)

---

“Shh, no, you have to be quiet.”

Sirius pauses outside Harry’s room, cocking his head. Harry’s been holed up in there since shortly after dinner, but Sirius hadn’t thought too much of it. It’s been pissing down all afternoon, and Sirius figured both of them could use a lazy day. For his part, he took a luxurious nap earlier, and the newest book in a romance series he’s been following arrived by owl post this morning. He’s looking forward to curling up with it in front of the fire. If he’s lucky, maybe Harry will come downstairs with his chess set later and ask to play a game together.

There’s a whine from behind the closed door, and then a soft yip. Sirius blinks.

“Hazza,” he says, rapping his knuckles softly on the door, and he hears Harry curse. “Everything alright?”

“Fine!” Harry says quickly. “I’m just--”

He’s interrupted by a loud bark, and Sirius’s eyebrows fly up to his hairline.

“Can I come in?” he asks, and he hears Harry sigh.

“Yeah.”

Harry’s standing over by the bed, dripping wet and clutching a soaked brown-and-white puppy against his chest.

“Well, hello,” Sirius says as he steps into the room. “Who’s this?”

“Dunno,” Harry says, cuddling the puppy close and shrinking away when Sirius takes a step forward. Sirius freezes. “Found him out in the garden.”

“Poor thing,” Sirius says. It’s been miserable outside for two days now. “Can I take a look at him?”

“Why?” Harry asks, instantly suspicious.

“I just want to make sure he’s okay, that he doesn’t have any injuries or anything like that.” Sirius starts to pull out his wand, but Harry backs away, so he quickly pockets it. “Can we sit down?”

They sit on the circular rug in the middle of Harry’s bedroom, and Harry gently places the puppy in front of him. The puppy shivers, and then takes a few uncertain steps. He’s wobbly, but that seems to be due to how young he is, not any injuries. Sirius puts out his hand, and the puppy sniffs him. His tail wags.

“Aren’t you mad?” Harry asks softly, not meeting Sirius’s eyes.

“I’m not thrilled you snuck a puppy in here without talking to me first,” Sirius says. “But no, Harry, I’m not mad. If you’d told me you’d found him in the garden, I would’ve had you bring him inside, too. We can keep him warm and dry for a night, and then tomorrow we’ll take him to a shelter. Speaking of, can I dry him off? He’s shivering. You as well, kiddo.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Harry nods, and Sirius pulls out his wand. He performs a quick drying spell, and then a cleaning charm, and then casts a heating spell over both Harry and the puppy.

“I bet he’s hungry,” Sirius says. “Why don’t you bring him down to the kitchen, and we can feed him?”

Harry hesitates again, then gathers the puppy in his arms and goes down to the kitchen, Sirius following them. He doesn’t know what exactly is causing Harry’s reluctance, but he has a suspicion.

He cuts up some leftover chicken for Harry to feed the puppy, and then goes into Remus’s office to gather up the rope toys Moony likes to use, as well as the crate he sometimes curls up in to nap off the Wolfsbane during full moons. Harry eyes the crate warily when Sirius comes back into the kitchen.

“So he’ll have somewhere warm and safe to sleep tonight,” Sirius says. “I doubt he’s house-trained, and sorry mate, but I don’t fancy him pissing all over the house all night.”

Harry reluctantly nods. “Yeah, okay.”

The puppy eats and drinks his fill, and then Harry entices him to play with one of the rope toys. Sirius can’t help the smile that touches his lips as he watches them, the puppy having the time of his life and Harry giggling--giggling!--while they play.

The puppy eventually tires himself out and falls asleep curled up in Harry’s lap.

“There was a dog in the Dursleys’ garden once.” Harry’s not looking at him. He strokes one of the puppy’s ears with a gentle finger. “She was a stray. I brought her scraps from the table whenever Aunt Petunia sent me outside to do chores.”

Scraps that Harry had probably needed for himself, but he’d split them with a stray instead. His heart ached. “That was really kind of you, Hazza.”

“She was my first friend,” Harry says softly. “My only friend. She lived in the garden for most of the summer, until Dudley found out about her.”

“Oh, Harry.”

“He and his friends chased her off. Hit her with sticks and threw rocks at her. I never saw her again.”

“She probably found a home,” Sirius says. “She sounds friendly. I’m sure someone took her in.”

“Yeah,” Harry says. “I hope so.”

Sirius hears the Floo roar, and then Remus calls out a hello.

“In here, Remus,” he says.

Remus comes into the kitchen, and his eyes widen. “Well, you two were certainly busy today.”

“Harry found him in the garden,” Sirius says. “The weather’s shite. I don’t see a problem with letting him stay tonight, and then we’ll take him to a shelter tomorrow.”

“Sure, of course we will,” Remus says, sounding amused.

The puppy wakes himself up with a yawn, and then eyes Remus curiously. He gets out of Harry’s lap and trots over to the other man, sniffing him curiously. Remus holds very still--animals tend to have very strong reactions to him. Either they adore him, or they’re terrified of him.

The puppy is apparently in the former category, because his tail starts to wag and he lets out a series of happy yips. Remus crouches down to pet him.

“You’re a handsome fellow, aren’t you,” he says. “Yes, you are. And much better behaved than Padfoot.”

“You hear how he talks to me, Harry?”

Harry laughs, and Sirius wishes he could bottle the sound. It doesn’t happen enough.

Harry and the puppy are inseparable for the rest of the evening. Remus keeps throwing Sirius significant looks that he tries to ignore. They’re not getting a pet. Hedwig is enough. In the morning, they’ll take the puppy to the nearest shelter, and Sirius will personally make sure he goes to a good home.

When it comes time for bed, Harry lines the crate with plenty of blankets and sets the puppy inside. He closes the door and locks it, and the puppy immediately begins to whimper.

Harry chews on his bottom lip. “You’re sure he’s going to be alright in there?”

The puppy whines, and Harry looks distraught. Remus squeezes his shoulder.

“He’ll be fine. He’s got toys and water and soft blankets. He’ll probably make a mess, but that’s alright. That’s what magic is for. He’ll settle down as soon as we all leave him be.”

***

The puppy cries for an hour after they all retire upstairs.

Sirius stares at the ceiling. He’s not going to give in and check on the puppy. He’s not.

“Don’t even think it, Sirius,” Remus murmurs from his side of the bed.

“I’m not,” Sirius says. “It’s just--do you think he’s cold?”

“We gave him blankets and cast a heating charm.”

“Maybe he’s hurt.”

“You checked him over before bed. He’s perfectly fine.” Remus rolls over and rests his head on Sirius’s chest. “He’ll settle down eventually.”

Remus is right--the puppy does eventually quiet down. Remus’s breathing evens out soon after that, and Sirius quickly follows him into sleep.

Sirius wakes up before dawn, his new normal, and pads downstairs to make some tea. Harry will sleep for at least another couple of hours, and they won’t see Remus until almost noon.

But when he comes into the kitchen, the first thing he notices is his godson curled up on the floor. The crate is open, and the puppy is nestled in Harry’s arms, also fast asleep.

“Sirius?” Remus comes up behind him, knuckling his eyes.

“What are you doing up?” Sirius whispers.

“Needed a piss, and the bed’s cold without you. What--” Remus finally catches sight of Harry and the puppy, and immediately softens. “Oh.”

“That’s why the puppy stopped whining last night, I bet.”

“Probably,” Remus says. He wraps his arms around Sirius’s waist and props his chin on Sirius’s shoulder, though he has to stretch to reach it. “You can’t make him go to a shelter.”

“No,” Sirius sighs. “I won’t. Looks like we’ve got a pet, Moons.”

“Looks like it. Where are you going?”

“I’ve got to write to the Board of Governors,” Sirius says. “I have six weeks to persuade them to add dogs to the list of approved pets for Hogwarts students.”

#i wrote you wolfstar raising harry b/c that's how we first bonded on here #also i tried writing moonseeker blowjobs but failed sorry #imp is writing #wolfstar #wolfstar raising harry #sirius black #remus lupin #harry potter #cw animal neglect #but it's only very brief and then it's animal happiness #also i wrote this before i knew you were getting a puppy lmao

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