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pparadiselost · 1 year ago

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crying wolf.

werewolf michael kaiser x red riding hood fem reader clichés always hold a grain of truth to them. warning(s): nsfw, noncon, murder of an uninvolved character, breeding, knotting minors do not interact.

a big bad wolf lives in the woods near your village.

that much you know.

the wolf has been the talk of the town for years now, and no matter how many men set off to kill the wolf or how many traps had been set up to catch it once and for all, the sly beast always managed to escape the trickery of your town.

there came a point where you stopped caring about it. you had no reason to step into the woods, satisfied with your quiet life in town, and outside of the stray sheep being killed and eaten every few months, the wolf really didn’t do anything to disturb your quality of life. it must suck to be a sheep farmer while this was all going down, but you weren’t a sheep farmer, so you didn’t care.

“you ought to be more careful!” the old cheesemonger’s wife scolds you as she hands you a generous chunk of cheese. “you know, the huntsmen are saying that they’re going to form an escort group in about a week’s time. shouldn’t you wait until then to go visit your grandma?”

you shake your head. “mama said i should go as soon as possible. grandma hasn’t been feeling well for a while, and ever since the whole wolf scare, we haven’t been able to visit her frequently. i just want to make sure she has enough food, because she can’t really do much herself.”

the old wife clicks her tongue and waggles her finger. “i keep telling my husband here, they really ought to catch that wolf quickly. this is how these things always begin. a couple sheep here and there, and next thing you know, the wolf’s run off with a toddler. who’s to say it won’t develop an appetite for a pretty girl like you?”

“oh, please.” you snort slightly. “the only things with an appetite for women like me are the drunkard sleazebags that waste their money away in the taverns.”

“well, you can say that again,” she laughs. she winks as she tucks you an extra slice of sweet cheese into your basket, and she waves you off before you finish off your errands and head home.

the chilled autumn breeze nips at your skin, and you huddle under the red cape your mother’s lovingly sewn for you. it’s become your best friend when winter starts to draw close, and you’ve worn the garment for years. you’re sure you’ll wear it in due time when you’ll set out through the woods to your grandmother’s, where the bright crimson ought to serve as an identifying beacon of sorts for your ailing grandmother.

the sun threatens to set in the distance by the time you gather up all your supplies and head to the outskirts of the village, where your home is. you double check the contents of your basket at your front door, not wanting your mother to scold you for having forgotten anything.

a bottle of hearty wine? check. loaves of bread that won’t go bad soon? check. cheese, meats, and fruits? check.

“i’m home!” you called out, swinging your front door open. your mother jumps and places a hand over her heart, exhaling deeply when she notices it’s just you.

“you scared the wits out of me, dear!” she scolds, stirring intensely at the pot in front of her. “a knock before you come in wouldn’t hurt, you know!”

“says the person who leaves the front door unlocked.” you toss your boots off and hang your cloak up, and you set down the heavy basket on the already set dining table. you swing in to a seat at the table, stomach growling at the scent of fresh stew. “i got everything for grandma tomorrow. is there anything else you need me to bring to her?”

“do you think i should pack some jam for her? i have a few jars that mr. ah… what’s his name again- well, he gave me some because his sister had made too much, and i reckon that your grandmother wouldn’t have too many sweet things to eat while she’s sick,” your mother suggests. you shrug, and she wipes her hands down on her apron before grabbing at the pot’s handle. “stay put where you are, dear. hot pot coming through!”

“i don't think it'll hurt. might as well bring it over if i’m headed there in the first place,” you offered. your mother smiles at you fondly as you practically lunge for the pot, spoon in hand to scarf down a well-deserved meal.

“slow down, or you’ll get a tummy ache,” she reminds you. you swipe at your mouth with your sleeve, earning a wince from her, but she doesn’t say anything. the night quickly melts away into the everyday hum of dinner followed by a quick berry pie dessert.

you haven’t even thought of the wolf until your mother tells you to go fetch the rest of the laundry she forgot to get earlier in the day. you balance a laundry basket on your hip as you drag your feet outside, wishing you were snuggled up in your bed with a book instead. the cold wind bites at your exposed neck and face, and you scowl as you haphazardly yank at the clothes and socks hung up on the laundry line.

“stupid wind,” you grumble under your breath. you stuff some shirts into the laundry basket, but when you reach to grab at the last pair of socks on the line, the wind tussles it free from the clothing pin and the socks go flying off in the distance. you let out a yelp before running after it, watching the white socks flutter like a pair of doves before landing onto the dirt.

“stupid, stupid wind!” you doubly curse as you bend down, yanking your nightclothes up so that the hem won’t be stained by the dirt. you reach to grab the socks before something in the ground catches your eye, and you shift to take a closer look.

your eyes widen in horror.

pawprints. wolf pawprints.

you shudder and quickly stand up, racing back to the safety of your laundry line and basket. the cursed beast must have been wandering around the wilderness near your home. a shiver runs down your spine at the thought of some stinky mutt of a wolf sniffing at your laundry, and once you see that there are no more clothes left on the line, you march back home and shut the door firmly behind you.

you have nothing to fear. you’re no sheep and definitely not meal material for the big bad wolf. you don’t even bring up the pawprints to your mother once you’re inside, and you don’t even think of the wolf again when you go to bed, bracing yourself for the long journey to your grandmother’s cottage tomorrow.

…

“do you have everything?”

“yes, mama.”

“are your boots comfortable?”

“yes, mama.”

“will the cloak be enough to keep you warm?”

“yes, mama.”

you swear the entire day’s going to be over by the time your mother’s done fretting over you. she’s not only gone over the contents of your basket once, twice, thrice, four goddamn times, and she’s still convinced that somehow she magically forgot to add everything to it. she keeps fretting over you, pulling the cloak tighter around your throat and making sure the hood covers your head comfortably.

deep down, you know she means well, but she keeps fussing over you like you’re a newborn baby. you’re old enough to take care of yourself, old enough to know how the world runs, old enough to stand on your own two feet without having her circling you like some kind of anxious mama bear. which she is, you suppose.

she kisses your forehead gently, looking at you with the weathered affectionate eyes only a mother could ever muster up. “i know you’re sick of me worrying over you like this. i can’t help it—you’re my baby.”

“i’ll be back before you even know it, mama,” you joke back. “and if i’m not back by dinner, you can assume i’ll be at grandma’s for the night. either way, i’ll be back by tomorrow for sure.”

“i’ll be waiting for you,” your mother promises. she clasps your hands, rubbing her calloused palms over yours. she squeezes your fingers carefully, grinning at you despite her obvious nerves. “my baby’s all grown up! going through the woods by herself and everything… what am i going to do when you actually leave the nest?”

“oh, you’ll be fine.” you hoist the heavy basket up, flashing your mother a thumbs-up. “i’ll be on my way then. i shouldn’t dally around too much, or it’ll get late.”

“right, right. i guess i’ll bake something to pass the time while you’re gone. maybe making your favorite pie ought to incentivize you to come home faster!” she agrees with a hearty laugh. you’re just about to turn around and set off before your mother cries out a panicked “wait!”

you look over your shoulder. “huh? what is it, mama?”

“i know this is probably just me fretting,” she looks at you firmly, and she wrings her hands slightly, “but it’s better safe than sorry. make sure to never wander from the main road, okay? you’ve heard about the wolf that’s been terrorizing our village. i don’t want to risk you getting hurt.”

you’d snark back at her a bit normally, but the pure fear in your mother’s eyes makes you bite your tongue for once. “i’ll stay strictly on the path, mama. besides, the wolf’s never taken a human before. and i’m sure there’ll be huntsmen and all sorts of other people out and about at this time of day, so i’ll be okay.”

“i know,” she sighs. “it’s a mother’s instinct. i can’t help but fret over you constantly.”

she waves you off, and you’re on the path to your grandmother’s before you even know it. the weather today is perfect: brisk refreshing air, a few cotton-white clouds in the bright blue sky, and the mischievous twinkles of sunlight streaming through forest trees’ branches.

truth be told, you like these solo adventures more than anything else in the world. living a quiet life in your village has its perks, but when everyone knows everybody, you rarely get a chance to set out by yourself without the scrutiny of your entire town on your back. you hum a little song while you skip through the beaten path in the woods, savoring the solitude. it shouldn’t take you more than a few hours to make the round trip, save for a quick lunch break in the middle and maybe a snack for the road at your grandmother’s abode.

you couldn’t be happier right now. the basket swings from the crook of your arm as you stroll through the woods, admiring the wilderness. a pair of butterflies flutter every now and then, and you can make out the melodic warbles of birdsong. you wonder if it’s mating season for the creatures; the closest you ever got to romance were the fairy tales in your book (your mother’s old hand-me-downs, from when she lived in the port city before moving her to marry your now-absent father) or the occasional wedding that took place in your village (the last one was 7 years ago, when the wheat grinder’s daughter married the postman. you pressed the flowers from your corsage between the pages of a heavy dictionary).

either way, you wish your village had more to show a young woman like yourself. everyone seems happy living their rustic life, and while you were satisfied with the peace that your mother strove so hard to provide you with, you knew that the world had more to show you.

and you crave it. just as the horizon of the woods seems to stretch on forever and ever, you wonder if there’s something beyond it just waiting for you.

maybe there ought to be a great marble castle, blinding white in the distance, complete with a prince charming inside atop his great steed. or maybe big markets with all sorts of treasures from afar! sometimes when a stray merchant stumbles across your town, you’d eavesdrop on the stories they’d tell to the little kids (you always dreamed about tasting the delicious spices they bragged about. cinnamon, was it? oh, that sounded fabulous).

but instead, you’re stuck with this bumfuck, hillbilly country town. there aren’t even any good looking guys here, and you know it’ll take at least a decade to convince your mother to let you move out away from the safety of her arms. the height of gossip here is a stupid wolf running around the woods. your village is so boring that they can’t even find a human to gossip about.

sweat dots your brow once you’re a good way into your journey. parts of the woods clear out into patches of grass or the sporadic lake, and your stomach starts growling slightly. you debate pushing yourself a bit further before you decide otherwise—your mother had packed you a delicious lunch, and it wouldn’t hurt to give your feet a quick break while you wolfed it down.

you scan the nearby woods for a clearing you could sit at, and after a few more feet of walking, you’re greeted with what looks like a meadow of wildflowers in the distance. you keep your eye on the main path before plopping down on the side of the beaten track, leaning your back against a tall tree.

‘lunchtime, lunchtime,’ you excitedly think to yourself as you peel back the cover of your basket. in the corner, all wrapped up, is a pair of sandwiches, a bottle of water, and a whole apple that your mother has prepared for you. the bright noon sun above your head indicates to you that it's the perfect time for lunch, and you lick your lips as you unwrap the sandwiches.

you go to town on your food. you have to force yourself to slow down a bit so you won’t choke on your food, and you listen to the back-and-forth of bird calls as you savor the taste of tasty bread. the crisp tanginess of the apple is welcomed by your tongue after you finish your sandwiches, and you chew thoughtlessly.

crunch.

‘hm?’ you don’t even move when the sound of rustling comes from behind you. it’s probably a deer or something. the sound of rustling wasn’t uncommon this deep into the woods, and huntsmen often told stories about daring foxes or squirrels that would venture close to the tracks to fight over scraps that other travelers had dropped.

crunch.

you swallow down the final bite of your apple, inwardly wishing you had more. you dangle the core in between your fingers, and you wonder if you should toss it into the woods. yeah, that wouldn’t be too bad, right?

crunch.

the birds could pick at it for a bit, and then maybe the bugs could enjoy the sweet treat. what use would you have for an apple core? you stand up, dusting yourself off the best you can, and without looking too far into the woods, you rev up your arm and throwing the apple core as far as you can into the trees with as much force as you can muster-

-only to hit something square on with the apple core.

you blanche. what did you just hit? you weren’t looking too closely, and you had expected the apple core to unceremoniously fall somewhere on the ground and be forgotten. but instead, something of considerable size lurks in the woods, and you hold your breath as you haphazardly grab your basket and your cloak, getting ready to run for it.

“ow…,” a boyish voice whimpers.

huh??? you freeze in your place, confusion flickering through your brain as a shadowy figure rustles around the place you had tossed the apple. a voice? you hadn’t expected that. you were supposed to be the only person here.

did you accidentally hit a wandering huntsman on accident?

“w-who’s there?” you call out. “come out and show yourself!”

“i was trying to-,” the voice grumbles. you hear footsteps and the crunching of breaking branches and leaves, and you keep your distance from the voice. the figure shifts closer to you. “-before you hit me in the face with your leftovers.”

your breath stops just short in your throat when you see a young boy around your age step out into the light. you clearly look confused—you’ve never seen him before, and no one’s mentioned anything about a boy this deep into the woods.

“who are you?” you ask, your own voice hushed. “i’ve never seen you before.”

“i should be asking you that,” he huffs. he folds his hands over his chest, and he pouts. “i want to know about you first.”

“i live in the village.” you point the way you came, down the path. you make the wise decision to casually leave out your name and any other important information you can. “are you from there too?”

he shakes his head. “i live in the woods.”

the woods! you’d never heard of anyone living in the woods. it was pure wilderness, dangerous and scary, no less for someone who wasn’t even a veteran wilderness expert! for someone that lived in the woods, the boy looks surprisingly well groomed. his long blond hair pools over his shoulder and down his chest, and it looks clean and well maintained. his cheeks are rosy and pink, and his bright blue eyes stare you down with a kind of pride you’ve never seen before.

“that’s dangerous, you know,” you point out. “there’s a wolf that's been running around these parts lately. it’s not safe for you to be out here all alone.”

he raises an eyebrow. “a wolf, huh?”

“yeah! it’s been killing sheep in my village. everyone’s been talking about it,” you remark. “i’d take you back to my village if i could, but i can’t.”

“i’m not welcome there,” he coldly remarks. his eyes narrow slightly, as if he’s leering at you. “besides, i wouldn’t want to live in a stupid village anyway. i’m happier on my own. everyone else and their stupidity would make me mad.”

annoyance shoots through you, and you shrug. “suit yourself. i can’t force you to go if you don’t want to. but i’d rather not have blood on my hands.”

“blood on your hands, huh?” the blond boy steps closer to you. “where are you headed to?”

“why do you want to know?”

“because it’s not often that i see a girl wandering around this deep by herself. you said it yourself: it’s dangerous out here.”

you hold your ground as he steps closer, circling around you. he’s tall when he stands at full height, almost enough to rival some of the tallest men in your village. his body is toned, most likely from living in pure wilderness for however long he has, and despite the lighthearted banter between the two of you, something in your gut swirls with anxiety when he prowls around like a wild animal.

“i’m headed somewhere,” you answer vaguely. “i have some stuff i gotta deliver.”

“and it’s that way, isn’t it? opposite your village?” he approaches closer, and you whimper when he sniffs at your ear. “lemme guess… that old lady’s house on the other side?”

your stomach drops. the boy grins, his sharp canines on full display when he sees the awestruck look on your face.

“bingo! you smell like her,” he laughs easily. “that’s a long journey for a pretty girl like you.”

you pull your cloak closer to yourself, instinctively wanting to shield yourself from the strange boy. “that’s enough! i’m going to get going.”

“sure, sure.” he sends you off, still grinning like he’s won some grand prize. “be careful out there though, darling.”

he cocks his head, watching you as you start running away from him. the blond smirks to himself, your sweet scent still clinging to his nose as your silhouette flickers from his view and then disappears into the distance.

“a wolf, huh?” he murmurs. he sounds amused, still thinking about the flabbergasted expressions on your face. something inside of him stirs sinisterly.

he’s hungry, he decides.

and suddenly, sheep meat doesn’t sound as appetizing anymore.

…

horror weighs on your heart like a brick thrown into a pond. it ripples and quivers violently, forming merciless waves that spread out, swallowing up anything in its path and leaving things warped in its wake.

your grandmother’s house is trashed. the windows are smashed in, and the front door is broken. your heart hammers in a panic, and your mouth goes dry. your pupils shake as you stand a distance away from the house.

your mind is blank. what happened? robbers? wild animals? a murderer?

you know deep down in your heart that the correct thing to do is turn on your heel and run, run until you find someone else, run until another person could take care of the issue for you. but your feet stay glued to the ground, and your thoughts swirl over with terrifying ideas.

your grandmother is inside! she’s a weak, defenseless lady, practically confined to her bed because of her old age and her illness… there was virtually nothing she could do to defend herself if anyone attacked her.

what if you were already too late?

“g-grandma…!” you cry out. your basket bounces next to you as you run into the house, tears clouding over your vision. the house seems too big, like it’s swallowing you up without the safety of your grandmother. the inside of the cottage looks just like the outside. furniture overturned, big claw marks etched into the walls, and absolutely no sign of your beloved grandmother.

your blood turns cold at the claw marks.

was it the wolf?

“grandma, if you can hear me, say something…!” you whisper, too scared to raise your voice properly. “o-or move something! grandma, you’re in here, right?”

your body trembles uncontrollably. the only room remaining that isn’t within clear sight is your grandmother’s bedroom. your gut tells you to leave immediately. you don’t want to go in there, but you have to. who’s going to help your grandmother if not for you? what if by the time you ran away and brought other people, it was too late for her?

your steps echo throughout the ruined house like the toll of church bells, and you press your lips into a thin line. you reach out for the door, which, despite its dilapidated state, somehow managed to stay partially attached to the hinges. you push, forcing your head to quit spinning from your fear.

“we meet again, darling!”

your heart drops to the ground. blood paints what seems like every inch of the room, and you immediately stumble backwards, tripping over your own feet and landing like a sack of potatoes onto the ground.

‘move…!’ your brain screams at your body. ‘get up and move!’

but you can’t. the scene unfurling in front of your eyes makes your limbs feel like they were made of lead. you can’t bring yourself to do anything. you can’t crawl, can’t scream, can’t do anything except stare back up at the blood-drenched young man that looms above you with a wolfish smile.

he licks his lips. he looks exactly as he did in the woods. tall, with long blond hair and dazzling blue eyes. except this time, there’s a pair of pointed wolf ears that sprout from the top of his head and a bushy tail in between his legs. he’s splashed with crimson, and his mouth is smeared the deepest red.

“see, i knew this was where you were headed to,” he laughs. “are you looking for the old lady that was in here? sorry to tell you, sweetheart, but i think i was a step ahead of you.”

you can’t bring yourself to breathe.

“you- you’re the wolf…,” you choke out. the smug smirk never leaves the boy’s face as he leers down at you, and another wave of pure dread drops like a deadweight into your stomach when he nods.

“about time you pieced it together, stupid girl.” the boy clicks his tongue mockingly. “i always watched that stupid village of yours get their panties all in a twist trying to catch me. i mean, human or not, did you guys really think you’d catch anything with stupid traps like that?”

you raise your arms instinctively when he leans down. “please don’t kill me…! i won’t say anything- please don’t eat me!”

he pauses, and he takes a long inhale. you clench your eyes shut, bracing yourself from the crunch of your bones under his sharp teeth, and for the smell of your blood to fill the room. this is it. this is how you die. another victim to the weird werewolf that had terrorized your town for god-knows-how-long, gobbled up mercilessly in the same way the boy had devoured your poor, helpless grandmother.

he laughs again, and you shudder. you tentatively peel your eyes open, only to scream when you see yourself at eye-level with him.

“did you think i was going to eat you too? nah, i’m not gonna do that to you. i’ve had my fill with that bony old grandma of yours.” he grabs your wrist, and you yelp when pain shoots up your arm. he yanks you up to your feet, and you shakily lean against him when he drags you into the heart of the scene of the crime. you don’t want to look at all the blood splattered against your now-dead grandmother’s bedroom, and the boy flings you like a ragdoll onto her bed.

he looks so monstrous, towering over your cowering form. in every other way, he looks like a normal human, like any other boy you’d see frolicking in your hometown, but his animalistic features betray him. the gleam in his eyes mark him as unmistakably a ruthless predator, and your heart feels like it's going to give out.

“what are you going to do to me?” you eke out. “are you going to take me hostage?”

“hostage? for what? do i look like the kind of person to bargain with stupid humans?” he snorts, and when he shakes his head at your foolishness, his long hair tumbles over his broad shoulders. you look like a deer caught in headlights as he clambers onto the bed, and he presses a hand on either side of your face as he cages you in between his body and the mattress.

he’s smiling, but you can’t detect any trace of goodwill or kindness on his face. “do you really want to know what i’m going to do with you, my darling?”

you didn’t know how to respond. he leans down to your level, and you whimper when you can smell the stench of blood and death on his mouth. despite this, he presses his lips against the outline of your jaw, and you quiver underneath the boy as his tongue darts out to lick at your skin.

“i’m going to make you my mate.”

your head feels like it’s caving in.

“what-?” you flinch. “no- no, no- nonono- you can’t do that… i can’t- no, i can’t do that! i can’t be your mate…!”

he narrows his eyes, yet his lips never leave your face. he keeps kissing you greedily, and you push at him to no avail, unable to wrench his heavier, stronger body off of you. you start sobbing and crying out, yet the boy pays no attention to you as his mouth tastes your skin like a starved man.

“be good, or i’ll force you. you wouldn’t want that, would you? i don’t want to hurt a pretty thing like you,” he hisses. you sniffle and swallow back your oncoming sobs and you avert your eyes.

“i promise i’ll be gentle. besides, i’m way better looking than any of the men in your village,” he attempts to cheer you up. “c’mon. look at me. isn’t something like this more exciting than a drab country wedding? i’ll treat you like a princess. just love me, darling. does it matter if i’m a wolf or not?”

“you’re a wolf that kills! i don’t want to be with someone like you!”

he frowns, and his hands move to your cloak. your heart pounds painfully against your chest as his fingers twist at the material. your mother’s painstaking handiwork dissolves like sugar in water under his grip, and you know moving to defend yourself is futile. he quickly shreds your clothes as you cry quietly.

“you would do this too, if you were me.” his fingers trace over the bare skin of your collarbones and dip towards your breasts. his hands are sticky and warm against the chill of your body, and he cups your chest. it’s insane, how well your body fits into his big palms. he watches you with lust-stricken eyes, and his cock strains against his pants when he sees your tears wetting your pretty face and you laying there underneath him, not bothering to fight him off.

he knows. he knows you’re being obedient out of fear rather than true submission, but it’s good enough for him.

“i’m lonely,” he whispers. “you don’t know how it feels. having to kill to live. having to stay in the shadows. having to always yearn from afar because all of those stupid humans can’t see that i’m more similar to them than i am different.”

“t-that’s no reason to ruin my life…!” you protest. it’s a last ditch effort, but you shakily inhale anyway. “please… let me go. we can pretend like none of this happened. i promise i won’t tell anyone anything. i’ll give you my word. just… i can’t be a wolf’s wife- i can’t- i can’t do that-”

he shakes his head. “i want you. you talked to me in the forest. offered me help. treated me like a normal boy my age. i was too scared, so i hid my ears and tail, and you were none the wiser. that- that’s enough proof, isn’t it? that with enough time, you’d come to love me for who i am…”

you let out a strangled cry as a hand starts groping your tits, rough fingers brushing over your sensitive nipples. it feels foreign, having your boobs touched like this, but a dull heat thrums deep inside your stomach. the boy looks entranced as he stares down at your form. the way your plush chest molds and bends to his hands makes him desire you even more, even if he’s aware that you’re terrified to death of him.

“i can’t let you go. i can’t,” he doubles down. any of the remorse you had managed to wrench out of him disappears bit by bit, and he groans as he paws at your body greedily. “god, you’re just so pretty… i have to have you.”

you clench your thighs together. his lips meet yours, and you nearly vomit at the taste of iron on your mouth. he’s clumsy, but he kisses you so hungrily, eager to lap up any semblance of affection. you grip at the sheets as his hot tongue swipes at your closed lips, and you’re determined to deny him. he frowns into the kiss, and you feel a twinge of pride well up.

the wolf exhales angrily. the hand that’s been roaming your chest twists at your nipple harshly. you yelp at the pain, and the boy shoves his tongue into your mouth, moaning into the kiss. you start thrashing slightly. he doesn’t heed any mind to your discomfort, and if anything, he begins grinding his clothed hips against your thighs.

he can’t get enough of how you feel. your kisses are like honey to his mouth, and his body melts at the feeling of you against him. you know he’s going to leave bruises all over your tits from how hard he’s grabbing at them, but despite everything that’s overwhelming you, the heat that pounds against your core only builds.

you can’t breathe. you clench your eyes shut and try to bear it, try to work through the sparks of pleasure that cloud your mind from having your breasts molested, as the wolf kisses you how he wants you. your mouth tastes foul when he finally pulls away, and a string of saliva connects the two of you momentarily.

you glare up at him.

“i want to fuck you…,” his voice trails off. “i want to fuck you so bad. but i have to be gentle. i promised to treat you well…”

your pussy curls at the thought of taking the wolf’s dick. he bucks his clothed erection higher and higher up your legs, and he moans shamelessly into your mouth as he kisses you again. he slobbers all over your mouth like a feral dog, his tongue slithering into your throat like he’s fucking your mouth.

you don’t enjoy this. you don’t want this at all. yet you can’t ignore the throb that pulses at your core, the way your walls squeeze every now and then painfully against nothing. you’re not turned on by this—you’re not. you want to convince yourself of that so badly, but every time you realize the situation you’re put in, pinned down to a bed with a werewolf that wants to stuff every inch of his dirty cock into your cunt, arousal swirls inside your body.

his hands trickle down to your pants, and fear pricks sharply at your heart.

“i’ll be a good mate.” he peels the rest of your clothes off, mimicking the gentleness of a human lover the best he can. “i can be like a real human husband. no, i can be better. i know i can be better than any of those stupid boys in your village.”

you shudder when cold air rushes at your bare cunt. the slick that coats your slit is undeniable, and the boy’s pupils widen at the sight. he swallows, and you watch as his neck bobs. even by human standards, he’s handsome, and your body betrays your mind as he coaxes your thighs open.

“you want me too, don’t you?” he asks. he offers a weak smile. it’s almost sickening, how someone who mercilessly took everything from you can pretend to be a human in hopes that you’d grant him any pity. “i’ll make you feel good. i’ll be everything you want me to be.”

he lets go of your legs, and he grabs at his own clothes, shredding them apart. he groans when his cock springs free of his pants.

your heart drops into your stomach.

“i-i can’t take that-,” you choke out. “that’s too big! you’ll kill me- i’m not kidding…!”

he tilts his head to the side, and he shrugs. his cock is inhumanly huge, and if he were to put that inside your cunt, you swear that you’d be able to feel it in your throat. it’s long and thick and swollen up to an angry red. a few prominent veins run along his length, eager to stuff itself into your soft and vulnerable cunt. his balls hang heavy and big, undoubtedly filled with all the cum that he wants to fuck into you.

he grabs at your thighs again, and you squeal loudly in protest as he keeps you pinned in place.

“stay still-,” he grunts, “it’ll hurt less if you stop squirming like that! you’ll get used to it with time. it might hurt a little, but it’ll feel good with time… now shut up, and let me fuck you already-”

you grit your teeth and brace yourself as he starts rubbing his length against your lower lips. he moans softly, savoring the way your warm body feels against him. you can feel his cock twitch dangerously against your folds, and you whimper in a mix of pleasure, disgust, and fear whenever his cockhead catches at your sensitive clit.

he lines his cock up at your fluttering hole, and you stop breathing. your chest feels tight, and your head feels blown out. you prep yourself for the oncoming pain, but he pauses for a moment.

“give me your name.”

you blink. “huh?”

“if- if i’m going to take you to be my mate, i should know your name at least. before i do this,” he whispers sheepishly. your stomach twists with hatred. why should he care? he’s going to do all of these horrible things to you, so why is he even bothering to pretend to play the act of a caring lover?

“yours first,” you hiss. “if a wolf like you even has a name.”

“i do.” his response surprises you. “michael. it’s michael. i have a human name like you do. i heard that it means ‘he who is like god.’ now tell me yours.”

you lay there for a moment, dumbfounded. you didn’t expect a monster like him to have a label like that. and less so a name as blessed as “michael.”

you hang your head. “...(y/n).”

he hums, and you flinch when his cockhead threatens to break into your hole. “it’s a pretty name. a perfect name for a perfect mate.”

you bite the inside of your mouth and properly brace yourself. he pushes his hips in slowly, his gaze fixed on where his cock connects with your pussy. you weren’t sure exactly what you were expecting, but the pain comes faster than you thought. it burns and stretches, and you cry out, stiffening and lashing out, trying to get him off of you.

“hurts…! ‘t hurts-!!” you screech. you pound and claw at his shoulders, yelling and immediately bursting into another onslaught of tears. the tears are hot and heavy as they trickle down your face, and your legs shake uncontrollably. it genuinely feels like he’s splitting you into two, and the torturous pain makes your head flash white.

michael nearly falls on top of you. your cunt is disgustingly warm and inviting, and it stretches out and envelops him. it’s hot and wet and tight, and despite your constant protests, your pussy is heavenly around his cock. you’re so small, and he knows his wolf cock is about to break you. but god—he wants to break you. if breaking you feels this good, he’ll eagerly shatter you into a million pieces so that he has the depraved honor of being the one to destroy you and strip you of your humanity.

he clenches his jaw. he couldn’t lose his mind. not like this, not when his endgame was right there. “take it. i’m going to be your mate, so you better get used to taking my dick and get used to it fast.”

you hold back a strangled sob. your tears are freeflowing, and it’s hard to breathe. his cock feels like it’s pressing straight up against your womb, and he’s not even giving you the mercy of adjusting to his size slowly. his length invades every inch of your cunt, and his ridiculous girth has you stretched out thin. you know you can’t take this. he’s actively molding your tight hole into the shape of his cock, and if he keeps himself in here any longer, you might actually go insane.

your words slur sloppily. “you’ll kill me- you’ll fuck me to death-”

his breathing is strained just from the pleasure of putting it in, but he still manages to snort at you mockingly. “you won’t die. no one’s ever died from sex.”

you wish you had the spirit to shout back at him, to put up more of a fight. but that instinct has been long extinguished at this point, and you’re nothing more than a sniveling mess as you struggle to breathe through the tightness in your chest.

“c’mon, don’t be boring now.” he truly can’t get enough of the sight. the pretty girl from the village, face stained with tears, legs spread out all for him to fuck into her pretty cunt. to put it as frankly as he can, the boy doesn’t know what he wants to do first with you.

the sweeter part of him wants to kiss away your tears, to comfort you the best he can with a low voice and whisper his undying love to you, to convince you that a life as a wolf’s wife won’t be all that bad. you’ve caught his eye for a reason, and he wouldn’t want to have you snatch away whatever dregs of humanity the hybrid wolfboy was clinging desperately too. even if everyone else regarded him to be some kind of barbaric monster, deep down, even he has a soul that yearns painfully for love. for a romantic partner that could accept him as an equal and open their heart up to him.

but maybe this other part of him is what makes him a monster.

he loves seeing you reduced to this broken mess. he enjoys it, the primal fear that’s evident on every inch of your face. the way you’re nothing more than prey in his arms, with no other choice but to let him fuck your tight pussy out on his monstruous cock, to be the direct cause of all the pain and anguish you’re going through and to enjoy it like it’s the thrill of a fresh kill… it makes the wolfish streak inside of him go wild with delight, and he wants to keep you pinned down and helpless underneath him so he can soak up that bliss a little longer.

your stomach coils up on itself when you feel him slide his hips back slowly. the strangled noise that leaves your mouth is a mix between a pained shriek and a pleasured moan. he’s really too much for you to fit inside, and your strained walls cling to his cock. you’re barely hanging on for dear life just from him penetrating you. you can’t even imagine what it would be like once he would start actually thrusting and having sex with you.

“ahhh, you’re just too cute,” he teases you. “i never knew love could feel like this… it’s so good, isn’t it? no regular human dick could even come close to what i’ll make you feel, my little wife.”

you sob as he slowly bullies his cock back into you, once more making sure that you can properly feel the torturous stretch. the pain wobbles dangerously on edging you towards pleasure, and your vision blurs over slightly as the mounting heat in your gut tightens up. it’s gross, it’s inhuman that you’re getting off on having sex with a wolf, but your own self-restraint is being tested with the small cries you’re letting out.

“ah-,” you pathetically squeak out, “ahh…! michael- michael, please- i can’t do this!”

“yes, you can,” he promptly corrects you. his thrusts are shallow, granting you the rare mercy of sparing you from being speared in half on his entire length. “look at you… you’re starting to feel good, aren’t you? i can feel everything… that little cunt of yours won’t stop tightening up around me. you’re squeezing so much! it’s like your pussy knows better than you who you’re meant to be with.”

your mind shakes. it’s all you can do to keep yourself conscious. all the stimuli are too much: the anxiety, the pleasure, the adrenaline. your thoughts are being smoothed over, all logic coming to a screeching halt as the tightness welling up in your womb is all that your body can focus on. you hate how easily his name falls out of your mouth, how easily you find it to moan, and the wolfboy eagerly devours the attention you give him.

how angelic you must look to him right now! his mate, his precious mate, moaning out his name in pleasure, no matter how terrified they are of him! he moans softly too, and he can’t help but buck his hips deeper and harder into you. your voice and all your little noises are too adorable to him, and he just wants it all.

“you like it, don’t you? yeah, i know it’s starting to feel good. give in to me. you don’t have to do anything but let me have my way.” his breath is hot and heavy and tinged with the sharp tang of blood. you cringe when he kisses at your neck and cheeks again, but with how rapidly his hips are picking up at the rhythm, your thighs tremble dangerously. “i’ll make you cum again and again… oh, you’re just so lovely…”

your cunt sucks him in greedily. feeling his cock rub against your walls and prod dangerously at your cervix makes you grow blank, and your body keeps reacting more and more to what the wolfboy is doing to you. you wonder if this is what people mean when they say they’re being fucked stupid, and if it isn’t, whatever he’s doing to you is coming horribly close.

“fuck…! fuck- no- michael- michael, please-,” you whimper out. you two both know perfectly well that your cries are from how good it feels, but you still refuse to verbalize it properly. michael smiles into the curve of your throat, and he kisses your jugular with what you can only describe as a sickly kind of affection.

“what are you asking for, my love?” he chuckles endearingly. you sob, and your toes curl into the disheveled bed when his cock slides into you just right. your vision skews its axis slightly, and you let out a sharp exhale, mouth lolling open a little. he nips at your skin with his sharp teeth to snap you back to life. “tell me properly with those human words you’re so proud of. ‘please fuck me harder, michael! make love to your wife! give me more of your cock!’”

your cheeks burn with humiliation when he ridicules you, but deep down, you don’t know if you can wholeheartedly refute him. you do want more of him. you do want him to fuck you harder. your cunt purrs in delight every time he slides in and out of your slick hole, and his cock manages to ruthlessly hit all the right places.

it’s unfair. it’s unfair how everything’s stacked against you.

you must have ignored him for too long. michael frowns disapprovingly, and a low growl vibrates in his throat. he ducks his head and bites down on your shoulder, sharp teeth digging themselves into the curves of your soft flesh. you scream out in pain, your walls clamping down on him and another flurry of torturous pleasure shreds your stomach.

“p-please fuck me harder, michael…!” you’re fully crying. your words don’t sound like your own, and you certainly don’t feel like yourself. the tears and snot smeared all over your face makes you feel like some lowlife, and you hate the way he forces you to beg for him. “make love to me… give me- give me more of your cock!”

“see?” he licks his lips, and he grins devilishly as you as he pulls away from your now-marked shoulder. “that wasn’t so bad, was it? nothing wrong with you for wanting more from your husband. i’ll gladly indulge my darling.”

a shaky scream pounds at your chest, and blinding hot pleasure overwhelms your head as he picks up his pace. your moans reach a high-pitched squeal as he fucks himself into you, his cock rapidly pulling in and out of your pulsing hole. it’s not like you make it particularly easy for him either; your disgustingly tight pussy walls cling to him and almost refuse to let him go.

does your body love his dick that much? does your cunt want to savor the feeling of him stretching it out that badly? those thoughts make kaiser swell with pride as he reaches a fast rhythm. despite how sloppily and quickly he’s ramming his whole length into you to make sure you feel every single bit of his dick, he still makes sure that each thrust has his heavy cockhead drilling right at your womb.

he prods at your deepest parts, shamelessly making sure that your womb knows it’s time to be bred. it’s time for him to fill you up with his cum, to fuck a baby into you, to force every part of your body to be tainted with him. from inside and out, from outside to in, kaiser wants to selfishly claim every part of you. that’s what good husbands do to their wives, don’t they? that’s what your folk—the human folk—did, right?

the tightness that gnaws at your core refuses to relent. your arousal runs rampant through your veins, and it feels like your guts are tying themselves into a knot. you don’t know how else to describe the heat that mounts in your core and inside your head. your body and conscience are at odds with each other. your brain rejects michael, your mouth begs for him to hold you and fuck you harder, and your hole sucks him in like it doesn’t want to let go.

“that’s my pretty wife. you have such a fucking slutty body- begging for your husband feels good, yeah? i know, i know, darling,” he drinks up your tears, his hot tongue lapping languidly at your face. you choke back another sob, and he moves to steal a kiss. his tongue invades your mouth, and your eyes gloss over. you’re overwhelmed with his presence. it smells like him, tastes like him, feels like him. you’re crying out and mewling in pleasure into his mouth, and he literally eats up every single one of your lewd noises.

his balls slap against your ass, desperate to empty themselves into you. his cock twitches and throbs inside you, making you shudder in delight. it’s a sick kind of lovemaking, if you could even call it that. your own slick dribbles down between your legs, and the lubrication only makes it easier for michael to greedily shove his cock into your fluttering cunt.

“can’t take anymore- michael, ‘m gonna lose my mind-!” you breathe out. you hate to admit it. you don’t want to tell him how stupidly close you are. you blame how monstrously huge his cock is; how else would he be destroying your body in such an inhuman way? your vision is unstable, blurring even more around your teary edges, and the heat that licks inside of you is unbearable.

michael knows it. he can feel it. the way the velvety lining of your cunt coaxes his cock right up to your cervix, the way it keeps squeezing him and writhing around his sensitive inches, the way your own voice seems to hike higher and higher. your legs tremble underneath him, and michael is thrilled to know just how far he’s successfully broken you. the shame and embarrassment that’s scribbled all over your face makes him almost uncontrollably giddy.

“are you gonna cum, darling? did my cock make you feel that good?” he laughs mockingly. his words are like thorns against your ears, yet with how roughly he’s pounding into your pussy, having mounted you like the uncivilized animal he was, you couldn’t deny it. he’s a predator through and through, and with you trapped in his reach like prey, you know all too well that he’ll be moving in for the kill soon.

the insatiable tightness inside you teeters on the brink. you’re barely holding on, each breath growing more strained than the last. michael doesn’t let up his pace, continuing to rut into you. each snap of his hips has you close, so close, so fucking close—you don’t want him to stop. you clench your eyes shut, bracing yourself to hurtle headfirst into the crash, to topple finally past the point of no return where you would irrevocably become the wolf’s.

“i’m cumming…! ah- michael- cumming- cumming…!”

heat rips through your body in half. you throw your head back, the foreign feeling consuming you whole as if you had been thrown directly into fire. your cunt clamps down on the boy’s cock, and it feels like he’s about to split you into two. your vision completely blurs, and the world rushes around your senses. it’s too much yet not enough at the same time, and you rake your nails down the wolf’s bare back with such a fervor that you must have shredded up his skin and drawn blood.

you shake and squirm and thrash underneath him, but no matter how much you writhe against his body, michael won’t let his grip on you go. he relentlessly fucks you through your orgasm, leaving you a sobbing mess as your juices squirt out of your abused hole and drip down onto the shaky bed. his cock pounds harder and harder, and he groans out as he feels your slick and pulsing walls flutter and clench around him.

“hah- that’s what i thought-,” he chuckles. you can’t breathe. you can’t think. the incessant throbbing in your stomach is still there, but it’s morphed from arousal into something a little more painful. he’s overstimulating your already overrun cunt. “your husband’s dick is that good, isn’t it? don’t worry; i’ll fuck you like this as much as you want… i’ll get you to cum over and over again.”

you dumbly shake your head. your head is foggy, and the throes of your climax don’t want to let you go. “n-o… can’t take any more- no more- don’t want any more…!”

“you’re going to take it, like the good wife you are. you don’t get a choice in this. i’m your husband,” he snarls. you shudder, whimpering in weak protest as he continues using you. it hurts, and it burns, and the coil that refuses to let up in your stomach makes you feel sick. how much longer could this monster last? it feels like he’s been having sex and using your body forever, but even after ripping an earth-shattering orgasm from you, he still hasn’t cum yet.

“it hurts- i can’t do it…!” you smack at his chest again, but you know he won’t let you go. your tears sparkle cruelly on your cheeks, and michael sighs lovingly as he laps at your face. he swings back and forth constantly between treating you like you were a mere bug to cherishing you. was this some kind of karmic revenge from the universe for thinking so lowly of your own village? the home that seemed so far away now?

“take it- take it- fuck- let me make you my proper wife…” fear floods your body when you can feel his cock twitch dangerously deep inside you, your bruised cervix contracting and sucking him in. his balls tighten and continue to slap against your ass, but with how quickly and frantic his movements are, he’s going to cum. “fill you up with my pups… we’ll be such a happy family together-”

your eyes shoot open. cold reality splashes over you as if slapping you back to your senses, even in the midst of being manhandled. “no! no, no…! don’t! please, please, michael- that’s the one thing you can’t do! don’t cum inside- i don’t want to get pregnant with your babies!”

he grits his teeth, and he presses his entire body weight on top of you, determined to keep you physically where you are. he’s determined to make sure you can’t escape from his grasp, as if you’d be able to go anywhere with how disheveled and haunted you are. it’s a good look for you, second only to the loving glances he knows you’d never spare him.

“shut up, shut up…! this is your job, this is what you’re supposed to do! this is what lovers do!” he thrusts once, twice, and when he brings his hips down one final time, your fate is sealed. his own cry dies out, buried deep inside his throat as he cums deep and hard into you. your breath lodges into your neck, leaving you with nothing but bitter defeat and the taste of uncertainty all over your mouth.

his cum spurts everywhere, and it floods your womb. it burns and goes everywhere, painting your insides a pretty shade of ivory white, and you can feel every drop of it flowing into you. it’s poison, it’s heavy, and it’s awful, yet your cunt has no choice but to take every little bit of it. you bite down on the inside of your cheek as it starts to eke out, and you force yourself to endure it. you have no choice but to; this is what survival is for you now. this is the only answer you have now.

you don’t know how you’re going to live with this. you try to console yourself by telling yourself that you had gotten over the worst, but you know that you haven’t. you never will.

“nnghg…!” a stray cry slips from your mouth when something tight and way too big for you to take invades your strained hole. a sharp pain invades and spearheads through you, and your entire body stiffens as his large knot shoves its way into your plush and stretched out pussy. his cum overwhelms your body, stretching out every inch of your battered womb. your stomach bulges just slightly, feeling stuffed to the very brim.

michael nearly collapses on top of you, keeping you folded in half and in a perfect, vulnerable breeding position. his eyes are blown open wide and glossed over in a kind of drunken stupor, yet he refuses to let you go in any capacity. it’s not like you have the physical means to anyway; you’re already so weak from having him force himself onto you, and the pain of being bred and knotted is taking everything in you to not pass out right there and then.

he reaches towards your face, cupping your tear-stained and broken expression with his large palm. you don’t know if the feeling that stirs in your gut is simply the aftershocks of sex or pity towards yourself, but seeing michael look down at you with such a triumphant yet lovestricken gaze isn’t doing your any favors. you know you have no choice but to get pregnant with his children, to watch in horror as your body turns into nothing but a host for these parasites he’s determined to fuck into you over and over, not a single squeeze of semen going to waste with the knot he’s plugged you up with.

“we’ll be perfect together,” he whispers. his words are almost like a mantra he’s brainwashing you with. you wonder who needs it more, the manipulator or the one being manipulated. everything feels like a punishment to you. just where did you go wrong? were you too ambitious for your own good? too hopeful? too willing to jump at the first opportunity for escape that came your way, not caring to see if any part of the rosy details were traps?

or maybe the worst part was that you might have done nothing wrong at all. maybe this was all a twisted machination of the universe. maybe just like what michael believed, you were destined to fall into the wolf’s grasp one way or another, to disappear from the face of society and the world as you knew it, to have him drag you off into the darkness and to become the broken but beautiful wolf’s bride that he must have dreamt of forever.

“i love you.” he kisses you, and you don’t have the strength nor the courage to say those blasted words back to him. it’s not like you could say them back sincerely either. instead you avert his gaze, turning your face towards the red scraps of your cloak that lay on the ground as if they were miniature corpses of their own, left over from a long lost war.

you hope your mother can forgive you when she realizes you won't ever come back home.

KINKTOBER 2023—le cinquième jour, le dernier jour.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk smut #michael kaiser #x reader #my writing

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seethew3stwithm3 · 3 months ago

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weather the storm // j. miller

this fic was a labour of love, heavily inspired by the SHIT weather down here in australia. it's hot, and humid, and damp as hell. sending love from the fiery bog, i guess.

this started out cosy and wholesome, but then gets a bit horny towards the end, but i hope you guys enjoy regardless.

you can picture show or game joel, up to you. the pictures are purely for the vibes.

- clarke xx

warnings: 18+ only. established joel x reader. smut. afab!reader, no mention of pronouns. swearing. p in v sex. apocalypse birth control (pulling out and praying. make sure to wrap it up irl.)

summary: you, joel, an ellie have a peaceful breakfast together. then, some alone time with domestic joel.

The rain had not eased in days; an endless deluge that soaked into the soil, leaving it swollen and muddy. The boots on your stoop were coated with dried muck and clumps of grass, and one pair was noticeably missing.

Stepping out onto the sheltered porch, wrapped in an old, knitted blanket, you breathed in the wet, earthen scent of petrichor. The sun had risen, visible and bright for the first time in a week, but clouds that rumbled like a hungry beast lingered on the horizon. You’d enjoy the sun while it lasted.

With a sigh, you went back inside and swapped your blanket for an apron, securing it at your waist. Just as you were setting out everything you needed to make a few loaves of bread after breakfast, Ellie came down the stairs, rubbing her eyes. Her dark hair stuck up at odd angles, messy from sleep, and she stifled a yawn as she plodded into the kitchen.

“Hi, Els,” you whispered, huffing a gentle laugh at her bleary-eyed stare as you attempted to flatten her hair. “You sleep okay?”

A noncommittal grunt was her only answer as she burrowed further into her sweater, (one of Joel’s, you noticed with a smile.)

“Why don’t you go grab your brush, and I can try to sort this out,” you said, gently ushering her back upstairs. “Then I’ll make us some breakfast, hm?”

Ellie nodded, moving sluggishly up the steps, sliding her hand along the polished wooden railing, feet scuffing against the faded, threadbare carpet.

Joel found the two of you in the living room a few minutes later, tired from the overnight border patrol. His boots were back in their designated spot outside the door, and an unfamiliar warmth sparked in his chest as he watched you. Leaning against the doorframe, arms folded, he watched as you ran the brush through Ellie’s hair, taking care to untangle the knots.

Despite the frown on her face, he knew Ellie was comforted by the gentleness. She wouldn’t talk much about how she felt, but he knew her fear, her lingering sorrow, all too well, and Joel couldn’t imagine how much harder it would be to deal with at her age. So, to see her like this, eyes closed as you twisted her hair into a low bun. To see Ellie letting somebody else do something for her, when she’d spent so long forced into independence…

It made Joel realise that maybe, despite the state of the world, that she’d be alright. Ellie had him and, if he believed in miracles anymore he would’ve thought it was one, she had you.

They both had you.

“Mornin’,” he murmured once you noticed him, a soft expression on his face which he hoped hid the weariness. His knuckles brushed against yours as he followed you down the hall to the kitchen, breathing in the faint scent of soap that clung to your clothes. The same subtle scent that lingered on his bedsheets and, sometimes, along the collar of his jacket after you borrowed it.

He kissed your cheek when you stopped at the stove, his hands resting on your hips as you cracked a few eggs into the old iron skillet. Ellie, who had bounded through the archway only moments after you, made a sound akin to dramatic disgust.

Stifling a laugh, Joel wandered over to sit at the dining table with her. Ellie rambled about her plans for the day, something about helping out at the stables with Tommy.

“Well, don’t go about causin’ trouble,” Joel chided, one eyebrow cocked. Ellie just rolled her eyes.

The burner click-click-clicked as you turned it on, putting the kettle onto boil.

“Coffee?” Joel inquired, turning stiffly in his chair to look over at you.

“No, that stuff ain’t good for your heart, old man,” you said, fixing him with a loving, but stern stare as you set mugs and plates along the counter. Despite his grumbling, Joel knew it was for his own good. Especially when he was meant to sleep for the next couple of hours.

“Els? Can you go grab some chives from the garden for me?” You asked, handing her a small pair of shears. “Just a little bit, for the eggs.”

You plated up the eggs and toast while she was outside, watching the steam rise from the food in cloudy tendrils, lit by the sunlight streaming through the window. Just as you were spooning a dollop of tomato chutney onto the side of Joel’s plate, Ellie returned with the greens and rinsed them in the sink. You let her garnish, and she took a quiet pride in it.

“Cutlery, please,” you mentioned with a soft smile in Ellie’s direction, and Joel set about pouring and straining the tea. It was a tight fit, having the three of you crowding the small kitchen, but it was… warm. Homely. As close to normalcy, to family, as you could get these days. And when breakfast was laid out on the table, positioned perfectly in front of the window, shutters thrown wide, you dined in the morning light as warmth seeped into the house.

A short while later, with the dirty dishes stacked by the sink, you bade Ellie farewell for the day. You sent her off with a few snacks for later, and the pair of Tommy’s jeans that you’d mended for him, so she could return them.

With Ellie gone, Joel could finally give you a proper greeting. His kiss was sweet and long and slow, one of his warm hands rested firmly on the small of your back. Unhurried and gentle, you threaded your hands into his hair, cupping the back of his neck.

“Patrol go alright?” You asked quietly as he pulled away.

He nodded, stealing another quick kiss, simply because he could. He brushed his thumb over the softness of your cheek, momentarily distracted, but his gaze locked on yours when you cupped his face.

“You head up to bed, okay?” Your voice was quiet as you rested your forehead against his, noses touching. “I’ll wake you up at midday.”

“Alright, darlin’,” he murmured, shrugging out of his jacket with a quiet groan. It took more effort than usual, and Joel immediately wished he’d waited until he was upstairs to take it off when he saw the concern on your face.

“Joel–”

“M’alright,” though the grit of his teeth told another story.

“Joel,” you chided, a little firmer this time, hands planted on your hips.

With a sigh, his head dropped, eyebrows pinched. “S’just my shoulder, nothing I can’t handle.”

Shaking your head, you ushered him upstairs and into the bathroom. Grabbing a screw-top jar from the cupboard, you pressed it into his hands.

“This should help, it’s an organic pain-relieving balm.”

At Joel’s incredulous look, you rolled your eyes with an exaggerated huff. “Maria made it, it will help. It helped Ellie when she twisted her ankle the other week.”

Joel still wasn’t sure, especially not as he unscrewed the lid and cautiously sniffed the thick, honey-coloured paste within, pulling back with a grimace.

“Stubborn, stubborn man,” you muttered, taking the jar from him, scooping some of the balm into your hand. “Turn around, take your shirt off.”

He did as you asked, accepting your assistance in tugging the fabric over his head. His shoulder wasn’t noticeably hurt, no bruising or redness, but it looked a little swollen. As you rubbed the balm into his skin, you almost swore at the tension in his muscles. Working your way across his back, to his other shoulder then down his spine, all you found were knots.

“How do you walk around like this, Joel? Christ.” You tutted.

Joel shrugged, muttering an apology that was cut off by a groan as you dug your thumbs into a particularly stubborn knot at the base of his spine, just above the waistband of his jeans.

“Alright, go on,” you murmured once you were done, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck as he turned back around. “Bed.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, resting his hands on your hips and kissing you properly. Once, twice, before you swatted him away, mock defiance on your face, despite the hitch in your breath.

“I’ll wake you up in a few hours. You need rest.”

You led him to the bedroom, closing the curtains while he took his jeans off and eased into bed. The old mattress groaned beneath his weight, and he let out a gruff sigh as he settled down, pulling the blankets over his weary body.

“Sleep,” was all you said, a whisper against his brow as you kissed his forehead.

“Fine,” he grunted, nestling deeper into the cushions.

---

A few hours later, midday came with the return of thunder and rain. So much for the sunlight you’d basked in that morning.

With Joel’s favourite mug in hand, you crept up the stairs, making sure to avoid the one that creaked. Despite your best efforts, Joel heard you coming, and his bleary-eyed gaze was on you as soon as you stepped into the bedroom. Years of constant vigilance did not easily fade.

“Hey, darlin’,” he murmured, huffing contentedly as you set the mug on the bedside table and slid beneath the blankets with him. He drew you in, wrapping an arm around your waist, and buried his face in the crook of his neck.

“I made coffee,” you whispered into his hair. “Just one cup, for us to share.”

Joel just hummed, more than content to go back to sleep, but a cold breeze swept through the open window and the strong scent of fresh coffee wafted over to him. With a groan, he sat up, adjusting the pillows so he could lean back against the wrought-iron bedframe.

You grabbed the mug, still steaming, and took a cautious sip before handing it to him. The two of you sat there, curled up in bed, sharing coffee and watching the storm.

“Ellie alright?” Joel asked, unable to hear any sign of her from downstairs.

“Yeah, she dropped by before the storm started to let me know they were setting up a movie in the hall.”

Nodding, that constant, quiet worry in his heart when it came to the mischievous teenager eased a fraction.

With the coffee drained to its dregs and rain lashing against the windowpane, you nestled closer to Joel. His warmth seeped through you, warming you to the bone, and you sighed.

“Sweetheart,” came his voice, soft and gravelly, so quiet it was almost swallowed up by a roar of thunder.

“Yeah?”

“C’mere.”

Your gaze flicked up to meet his, hand stilling on his chest where you’d been tracing absent-minded patterns in the coarse smattering of hair there. With a soft smile, you sat up, graciously taking his offered hand, keeping you steady as you moved to straddle him.

He reached up to cup your face, tracing his thumb over the curve of your cheek, the softness of your bottom lip. Lightning flashed outside, haloing you in pale light, limning your body with silver.

“Beautiful,” he murmured to himself as he pulled you close, warm hands heavy on your waist, until your chest pressed against his. Foreheads touching, he ran his fingers down your spine, slipping them beneath your shirt on the way back up. “So damn beautiful.”

You sighed into his mouth when he kissed you, melting under his honeyed touch; slow and sweet. It was nice to be here, with him, just the two of you. Nowadays, shared moments were sparse. There was always work to be done in Jackson.

But here, with the storm raging outside, finally there was peace.

You barely registered getting undressed, only that the moments you spent away from him to tug your pants and shirt off were too long. His boxers stretched and strained against the soft thickness of his thighs, and you leaned down to press a kiss to his hip as you pulled them off. Discarding the fabric on the bedroom floor, you climbed back into his lap, skin on skin.

His touch was warm and gentle, exploratory. Drifting from your hips to your waist to your chest, you sighed at the whisper-soft scrape of his fingertips down your spine. He mapped you out by touch alone, his gaze locked on yours. His brown eyes were heavy-lidded, swirling with desire and adoration, and you just let him stare.

With anybody else, you would’ve shied away. But not with him. Not with Joel.

Your Joel.

It felt strange to consider someone as yours when the idea of permanence was revoked as the world ended. And you felt… selfish. Selfish for claiming a little light on a dark landscape, but… If selfishness meant you knew the assurance in his touch, the safety in his embrace, then you’d take it and run. So be it.

Just this once, you had something for yourself.

Joel’s name was a hoarse exhale from your lips as his fingers found the wet heat between your thighs, dipping into you with a gentle desperation. He groaned as your arousal dripped down over his knuckles, and the sound made your breath hitch. And when he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, your head fell back, gaze hitting the ceiling as a strangled plea tore from the back of your throat.

His cock lay hot and heavy against your inner thigh, and you rocked your hips over it. Once, twice, until the sticky strings of your arousal coated the shaft, and when the head notched in your opening, you let out a whimper.

Lifting yourself just enough that Joel could grip the base of his cock, you grabbed his shoulders as he lined himself up with your entrance. Then, once he’d guided the tip into you, his hands found your waist to keep you steady as you sunk down on him. Taking it slow, accommodating to the slight stretch inch-by-inch, you gasped at the familiar girth of him.

“Fuck,” he breathed through gritted teeth as he bottomed out, the tight warmth of you squeezing around his length. “There you go, baby. Takin’ it all, y’feel so good.”

For a moment, the two of you didn’t move, breathing in sync as you steadied yourself. He hit so deep like this, and it made dizzy. Then, with his hands guiding you, you rocked your hips.

“Fuckin’ perfect for me,” he groaned as you circled your hips. Your clit bumped against the coarse thatch of hair across his pubic bone with each movement, leaving you keening and breathless, one hand fisted in the sheets by his head, the other planted on his chest.

“Just like that, honey, just like that.”

His voice urged you on, drawing a fervour from the depths of your chest. Hazy desire whirled in your stomach, coiled like a spring, or a cat ready to pounce. Lightning flashed, and the glimpse of rugged ecstasy on Joel’s face through the gloom made you whimper.

Teeth gritted, brow furrowed, chest heaving; he was the picture of a man undone, halfway to losing his mind. And, by God, he looked so good like that.

The storm drowned out your desperate whines, but you leaned down so you could be chest-to-chest with Joel, so you could hear his ragged moans and staggered breaths. He used to stay quiet during sex, only an occasional grunt or quiet ‘fuck,’ but once, after you’d done something particularly wicked with your mouth, he’d let out the weakest, most desperate moan.

You’d told him it was the hottest thing you’d ever heard, and he hadn’t held back since.

“Fuck, Joel,” you whimpered, clinging to him as he started to thrust up into you, meeting each gentle rock of your hips.

“That feel good, baby?”

“Ye- fuck! Yes.”

“Mhm, I gotcha.” He punctuated his words with a particularly harsh thrust, and you cried out, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “I gotcha, darlin’.”

You clenched around him moments later, the strength of your release hitting you unexpectedly. Riding it out, your hips moved of their own accord. Shuddering, you rolled to the side, moaning as Joel’s cock slid out of you.

His voice was hoarse as he swore, his soft stomach tensing as you wrapped your hand around his shaft, jerking him off until he hit his peak. His cum spurted across stomach, leaving behind a mess you’d clean up later. For now, though, you just wanted to be held.

Joel was more than happy to oblige. He panted as he came down from his high, holding you as close as he could. With your legs intertwined, the sheets wrapped around your ankles, you breathed him in.

The storm still raged, the sky impossibly dark, but every flash of lightning gave you a glimpse of the sheen of sweat on Joel’s brow, his kiss-swollen lips, a little dribble of blood on his lower lip from what must have been a particularly harsh nip from you.

“Sorry,” you whispered, wiping the blood away with your thumb. You propped yourself up on your elbow to get a better look, hoping you hadn’t hurt him too bad.

“Don’t be,” he replied, reassuring you with a gentle kiss against your forehead. “Feels good.”

Sheepish, you sunk back down into the cushions, nestled safely beside him.

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

thanks so much for reading <3 my inbox is open if you have anything you'd like me to write, or just want to have a chat. love love love you, thank you again <3

#joel miller #the last of us hbo #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou hbo #the last of us

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aynavaano · 3 months ago

Text

Sweet Treats

Kinktober '24 - size kink/praise kink

Wrecker× F!reader

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 7.5k whoops this was meant to be short

Summary: You're living on Pabu and can’t keep your eyes off Wrecker since he arrived. You’re a bit shy but you got the notice that you can move back into your rebuilt house in Lower Pabu so you ask him if he could help you moving.

Notes: Whoha, that was a long unintentional break. A few of my scripts for Kinktober were a lot longer than what I usually write and editing them kinda overwhelmed me. Then when I realized I was behind my self imposed schedule, I kind of beat myself up for it and abandoned all the fics. I didn’t allow myself to write something new cause I had a bad conscience, I felt like I had to finish the Kinktober fics and the asks before I deserved to write something new. I felt like I had failed and didn’t want to look back and it took all my joy of writing. But over the holidays I read through some of the scripts, realized that some of them were good and deserved to be finished. Also the world is a cruel place and we all deserve a bit of unhinged smut with our favorite clones to brighten the mood. So I guess we’re doing Kinkanuary now?! The first script that I finished was Wrecker and while it was obvious to pair him with a reader that has an undiscovered size kink it is important for me to add that he is so much more than just his size and I hope I managed to write it like that. Also I thought he deserved a girl that is good at baking, so reader is a baker on Pabu. As far as tags go we have: mutual attraction, idiots to lovers kind of, oral f! and m! receiving, vag.fingering, vag.penetration, wrecker has a big dick and we all know it, reader maybe enjoys choking on his cock a litte, mutual size kink, praise, lots of praise, Wrecker talks you through it, he’s the praise king, you can’t change my mind. Also no beta, otherwise these longer fics would never see the light of day.

You first noticed Wrecker the day after he and his family had arrived on Pabu. His sheer size made him impossible to miss, but it was his laugh that caught your attention—deep and warm, like the comforting roll of distant thunder. You were setting up your stall at the market that morning, arranging fresh loaves of bread and pastries on wooden trays, when his booming voice echoed across the square.

At first, it was hard not to admire him from afar. Wrecker had a way of filling a space—not just with his size, but with his energy. Whether he was hauling crates of supplies or chatting with the locals, there was an openness to him, a joy that made him stand out. Everything about him exuded warmth and strength—from the way he carried children on his shoulders to how he lit up the room with smiles and his easy humor. It was hard to believe someone that enormous could be so gentle, but Wrecker was all contradictions, and that only added to his charm.

You’d caught yourself staring more than once, your hands dusted with flour as you pretended to be busy with your goods.

The first time he approached your stall, he was grinning from ear to ear, his broad shoulders nearly blocking out the sunlight.

“Wow, that smells incredible,” he’d said, leaning in to inspect your display.

You’d smiled nervously, brushing off a bit of flour from your apron.

“Thanks. Anything catch your eye?”

“All of it,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ve got a bit of a sweet tooth, y’know. What d’you recommend?”

That first exchange turned into many. Wrecker became a regular at your stall, always stopping by to buy something and chat. Sometimes, he’d stay longer than necessary, munching on a pastry while leaning casually against your counter.

“Y’know,” he said one day, his mouth half-full of a jogan bun, “you’ve got magic hands to make something this good. Ever thought of teaching someone?”

You’d laughed, shaking your head. “Not sure you’d want to learn—kneading dough isn’t as exciting as whatever you get up to with your brothers.”

He grinned.

“Hey, don’t knock it. Bet I’d be pretty good at it. Got the muscles for it, after all.”

You couldn’t deny the way his easy compliments and lingering glances made your heart race. There was something about the way he looked at you, his warm brown eyes soft and inviting, that made you feel special. But no matter how many times he came by, no matter how often he found reasons to linger, he never asked you out.

And you, a bit shy and unsure, didn’t dare make the first move either. So you stayed in this quiet, unspoken dance of stolen glances and friendly conversations, savoring the moments you got to spend with him and wondering if he felt the same pull.

But you often caught yourself daydreaming about him when you saw him around town or relaxing at the beach, how it would be to be held by him, how easily he could just scoop you up and carry you around, how it would feel to cuddle against his broad chest, how safe and loved you would feel in his arms.

****************

The late afternoon sun bathed Pabu in golden hues today, and the warm breeze carried the scent of the sea up into the town. Despite the sun slowly setting, it was still hot, and you started packing up your stall. As always, all your cakes and cookies were sold, but packing up took longer than usual because you were distracted.

You’d caught a glimpse of him on the on the other side of the town square—Wrecker, unmistakable, towering over the others at the bustling marketplace. His boisterous laugh echoed as he navigated the narrow stalls, his broad shoulders making him stand out no matter where he went.

It was Taungsday market, and he always came to your stall on Taungsday. But today you had almost given up hope. You glanced down at the small box you’d tucked carefully behind the counter. Inside was a meiloorun cookie, Wrecker’s favorite. You’d saved it for him, just in case.

As you started loading the last of your trays into the cart, you heard that familiar laugh. Your heart leapt, and you turned to see him striding toward you, his grin wide as ever.

“Hey!” Wrecker called out, his deep voice carrying easily over the market noise. “Almost thought I’d missed ya!”

You smiled, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“I thought you had, too but I saved something for you.”

His eyes lit up as you reached for the box, handing it to him with a shy smile. “One meiloorun cookie, just for you.”

He took the box, opening it with the excitement of a child.

“Aw, you remembered! Thought I was too late, been busy helpin’ out with the building of the new communal space.You’re the best, y’know that?”

He popped the cookie into his mouth, groaning appreciatively.

“Perfect, as always.”

The compliment made your cheeks warm, and you busied yourself with stacking empty crates to hide your nerves.

“I’m glad you like it.”

Wrecker noticed your cart piled high with boxes and trays.

“Need a hand with all this? Looks like a lot for one person.”

You hesitated for a moment, then decided to take a leap of courage.

“Nothing I can’t handle here, all the boxes are empty, but actually, I was going to ask if you could help me with some heavy lifting later.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Oh yeah? What kinda heavy lifting?”

“Well…” You glanced down, suddenly unsure how to phrase it.

“My house in lower Pabu—it’s finally been rebuilt after the sea surge. I just got the notification that I can move back in a few days ago, I’ve already brought some stuff over but I’ve got some furniture and boxes I can’t manage on my own.”

Wrecker beamed, his broad smile making your nerves melt away.

“Course I’ll help! Wouldn’t leave ya to handle that alone. When d’you need me?”

“Tonight, if you’re free?” you asked, trying not to sound too eager.

“Tonight works,” he said with an enthusiastic nod.

“Tell ya what—I’ll help you load up here, then I’ll get the fish to Hunter real quick and I’ll head over to your place. Deal?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his generosity.

“Deal. Thank you, Wrecker.”

He picked up two of your heaviest boxes like they weighed nothing, his muscles flexing under the strain.

“No big deal,” he said, winking at you. “Anything for my favorite baker.”

*****************

The small apartment had grown unbearably hot as the afternoon wore on, boxes stacked high against the walls, and the thought of finally spending time alone with Wrecker filled you with a nervous excitement. You smoothed your hands over your tunic, glancing at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time. Any minute now, he’d be here.

You’d been thinking about him all afternoon, replaying your conversation from the market in your head. He’d made you promise to teach him baking once you had your bigger kitchen back, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been teasing or if he really meant it. The way his grin had softened as he spoke to you, the way his golden eyes held yours just a little too long—it was enough to leave your chest fluttering.

A heavy knock at the door snapped you out of your thoughts, and you scrambled to answer it, heart racing.

When you opened the door, there he was. Wrecker’s broad frame filled the doorway, the last light of the day casting over his shoulders. He was wearing a sleeveless shirt again, and the sight of his muscular arms had you biting the inside of your cheek to keep from staring.

“Hey,” he said, his deep voice warm and cheerful. “You all ready for me to get you movin’?”

You nodded quickly, stepping aside to let him in.

“Yeah, almost everything’s packed. It’s just the big stuff now. Thanks for coming.”

He gave you a lopsided grin, shrugging easily.

“Course. Gotta make sure you’re all set up for bakin’. Besides,” he added, rubbing the back of his neck, “I like being around and helpin’ you out.”

That made your breath catch, and you busied yourself with stacking some smaller boxes to cover your flustered reaction.

“Well, I appreciate it. Especially since the couch is going to be a nightmare to move but it’s the only piece of furniture I could salvage after the surge so I don’t want to give up on it.”

Wrecker chuckled as he surveyed the space. “Couch, huh? Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.”

As he started lifting boxes onto the heavy-load cart, you found yourself sneaking glances at him. The way his muscles flexed with every movement, the easy way he handled the heaviest loads—it left you a little breathless. When the last box was stacked, all that remained was your old, oversized sofa, with it’s wild mix of colorful cushions, many of which you had made.

“Guess it’s just this beast left,” Wrecker said, turning to you with a playful grin.

“Yeah,” you said, fidgeting with your hands. “I’ve been dreading moving it. It’s so heavy.”

“Ah, not for me,” he said confidently, stepping over to it and giving the armrest an experimental tug. Then he paused, glancing back at you with a sly grin.

“You’ll still teach me bakin’, right? Once you’ve got that big ol’ kitchen?”

His question caught you off guard, and you blinked at him. “You really want me to teach you?”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck again, his grin softening. “I think it’d be fun. You’re good at it, and I… y’know, I like watchin’ you do somethin’ you’re good at, spendin’ some time with you.”

Your heart skipped, and you felt your cheeks heat. “I—yeah. I’d like that.”

Wrecker’s grin widened, and he turned back to the couch with renewed enthusiasm.

“Alright, let’s get this thing outta here, then.”

He braced his massive hands under the couch, muscles rippling as he hoisted it up like it weighed nothing. Your jaw dropped slightly, watching the ease with which he maneuvered it toward the door.

“Maker,” you muttered under your breath, eyes trailing over his biceps and broad chest.

Wrecker paused, tilting his head toward you with a crooked grin.

“What’s that? Did you say somethin’?”

You shook your head quickly, heat rising to your cheeks.

“No! Just, uh… impressed, that’s all.”

He turned fully to face you, the couch still balanced effortlessly in his arms, and his grin widened.

“Impressed, huh? ”

Setting the couch down gently, he stepped closer, his golden brown eyes glinting with mischief. He towered over you, his presence filling the room as his grin softened.

“You’re blushin’,” he teased, his voice dropping an octave.

“I am not,” you shot back, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you.

“You’re cute when you try to deny it,” he murmured, his gaze locking with yours.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you forgot all about the move, your world narrowing to the warmth of his smile and the steady confidence in his voice. Wrecker had a way of making you feel seen, you couldn’t tear your gaze away from his soft lips and as he leaned down just slightly, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking the same thing you were.

His gaze didn’t waver as he studied your face, a mix of amusement and something softer in his golden eyes. The room felt impossibly warm, and your heartbeat was echoing loudly in your ears.

“Y’know,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost shy, “I’ve been wantin’ to spend more time with you. Not just like this—helpin’ out and all. But, uh, I didn’t know if you’d want that.”

Your breath caught. “You… really?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, his grin softening into something more tentative.

“I mean, you’re always real nice to me, and Hunter said he thinks you like me but I figured maybe you’d think I’m… too much or somethin’. Big guy like me, not exactly subtle.”

You shook your head quickly, your words tumbling out before you could stop them.

“Wrecker, you’re amazing. You’re sweet and funny, and you’ve been so kind to me. Honestly, I’ve been hoping you’d…” You trailed off, suddenly unsure how to finish.

“Hoping I’d what?” he asked, his voice low and full of curiosity.

You bit your lip, gathering your courage.

“Hoping you’d ask me out.”

Wrecker’s eyes widened slightly before his face broke into a wide, toothy smile that made your knees weak.

“Well, why didn’t ya just say so?”

“I don’t know,” you laughed nervously, “I guess I didn’t want to make things awkward.”

He let out a soft chuckle, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck.

“Awkward? Nah. I like ya, and I’ve been thinkin’ about askin’ ya for a while. Guess I was just nervous too.”

The thought of Wrecker—this towering, confident, wonderful man—being nervous to talk to you was almost too much to believe. You smiled, feeling your chest warm at his words.

“Wrecker…” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?” His voice was a low rumble now, and the intensity of his gaze made you feel like the only person in the galaxy.

“I guess I’ll have to take the first step, then.” you said softly, meeting his gaze.

Before he could respond, you leaned up on your toes and pressed a quick, tentative kiss to his cheek. His skin was warm, the scar slightly rough under your lips, and you pulled back just enough to gauge his reaction.

Wrecker looked at you startled for a split second, then he leaned down and captured your lips with his. His mouth was warm, firm but gentle, and he tilted his head just enough to deepen the kiss. The world around you disappeared as you melted against him, your hands instinctively reaching up to grasp his broad shoulders.

The kiss quickly turned more heated, his massive hands finding your waist, pulling you flush against his body. You could feel the solid wall of his chest against you, the strength in his arms as he held you close. His tongue brushed against your bottom lip, seeking entry, and you gasped, allowing him to taste you fully.

"Maker," he groaned against your mouth, his voice rough and husky, "feels so good."

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as his hands roamed lower, resting on your hips and pulling you against him in a way that made your knees go weak. His sheer size, the way he enveloped you so completely, had your mind spinning.

"Wrecker," you breathed, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. His golden eyes burned with heat, his lips slightly swollen from the kiss.

You could feel the sheer power in his grip, restrained but ever-present, and it made heat pool low in your belly.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice softer now, concern flickering through the intensity in his gaze.

"Better than alright," you murmured, running your hands over his shoulders, down his chest, marveling at the sheer size and warmth of him. Your fingers trailed lower, brushing over the hard planes of his abdomen, and you felt him shiver under your touch.

"Careful," he said, his tone half-teasing, half-warning.

"You keep doin' that, and I might not be able to stop."

"Maybe I don't want you to," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes darkened, and his grip on your waist tightened slightly.

"You sure about that? Don’t want me to take you out for dinner or somethin’ first?."

You shook your head, your breath catching as his gaze flicked back to your lips.

"I'm sure."

With a growl that sent shivers down your spine, Wrecker kissed you again, harder this time, his hands sliding lower to lift you effortlessly into his arms.

The strength in his grip made your stomach flip as he carried you toward the couch he had just moved and abandoned next to the door, laying you down gently before hovering over you, his hands braced on either side of your head and his massive frame blocking out the rest of the room.

"Tell me if you want me to stop, ya ?" he asked, his voice softer now, his concern evident despite the heat in his gaze.

“Yes," you said without hesitation. The way he said it with so much affection made your pussy throb and you had to press your thighs together for some desperate needed friction.

His grin turned feral, and he leaned down to press another kiss to your lips, this one deeper, hungrier. His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve with a reverence that made your heart ache.

"Gonna have to be real careful with you," he murmured against your lips. "Don't wanna break my pretty little thing."

The thought made your core clench, and you arched into him, your hands tangling in his shirt as you pulled him closer. You’d spend too many nights hot and bothered plagued by dreams of him touching you, making you feel good only to wake up feeling needy and empty. Getting yourself off hasn’t helped much, sometimes made things worse, it was him that you wanted. Now that you had him so close to where you wanted him, the last thing you needed was him to be overly careful.

"Don't be too careful," you teased, your voice a mix of need bordering on desperation.

Wrecker chuckled, the sound low and delicious.

"Careful, sweetheart. Keep talkin' like that, and I might forget my own strength."

His kisses trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you gasp. He pulled back briefly, his gaze raking over you with such intensity that you felt like you were being consumed.

"Take this off for me?," he said, tugging at your tunic.

You complied quickly, your fingers trembling as you pulled it over your head. Wrecker's breath hitched as his eyes roved over your bare skin.

"Perfect," he said, his voice reverent.

His hands followed his gaze, calloused fingers brushing over your breasts, your hips, and finally settling on your thighs. He knelt in front of you, his massive frame making you feel even smaller.

"You're gonna let me take my time with you, aren't you?" he asked, his hands sliding up your legs.

"Yes," you breathed. "Please."

"Good girl," he said, and the words sent a shiver down your spine.

Wrecker's hands slipped under the waistband of your shorts, pulling them and your underwear down in one smooth motion. His touch lingered on your thighs, the heat of his palms searing into your skin. He let out a low, appreciative hum as he took in the sight of you.

"You're so pretty, even prettier than I’ve imagined" he said, his voice soft but filled with a hunger that made your cheeks flush.

"Gotta admit, I've been thinkin' about this for a while."

He leaned back, his hands working at the hem of his shirt. When he pulled it over his head, your breath caught in your throat. His broad chest and shoulders were a sight to behold —muscle stacked on muscle, his skin marked with faint scars that only added to his rugged appeal and a dusting of dark hair covered his chest, trailing down in a line that disappeared beneath his waistband.

Your gaze lingered on his powerful arms, his biceps flexing slightly as he tossed the shirt aside. You‘d seen him on the beach but to have him so close was different. You couldn't resist reaching out, your fingers brushing over the hard planes of his chest. His skin was warm, firm beneath your touch, and the contrast between his sheer size and your smaller hand was intoxicating.

"Maker," you murmured, your fingers tracing the line of his pecs and down to his stomach.

"You're incredible."

Wrecker grinned, his golden eyes alight with a mix of pride and amusement.

"You like what you see, huh?"

"Very much," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitantly let your hand trail through the dusting of soft curly hair and over the big scar that went across his whole chest, that seemed fairly new as it was still raised and had a pinkish glow.

„Had to fight a Dryax to get that, when we rescued ’mega“ he said with a sheepish grin.

His large hand wrapped around yours, guiding it lower, letting you feel the strength in his abdomen and then further to the huge bulge in his pants.

“Look what you’re doin’ to me” he said enjoying the look on your face “but first, I’m goin’ to take real good care of you if you let me”

Your fingers brushed over the thick, firm ridge straining against his pants, and you couldn't stop the shiver that ran through you. He was so wide, the sheer girth of him making your hand feel small as you tried to take in the size of him. The light linen fabric did little to hide the heaviness beneath, and your fingers traced along the outline, marveling at how impossibly thick he felt.

A surge of heat pooled low in your belly, the wetness between your thighs growing as you imagined what it would feel like to have him stretch you open. The weight of his cock, the thickness pressing against your palm, made your pulse race, every nerve in your body thrumming with anticipation. This was even better than your dreams.

Unable to form coherent words you nodded.

Wrecker leaned back over you, his hand cupping your face again while his other slid down your body, giving one of your nipples an experimental pinch and then lower between your thighs. His fingers, thick and calloused, parted your folds with surprising gentleness. He groaned as he found how wet you already were, his thumb brushing over your clit.

"Look at you," he murmured. "So soft, so ready. That's all for me, isn't it?"

"Yes," you gasped, your hips bucking slightly into his hand.

"Thought so," he said, his voice thick with pride.

After a few slow rubs over your clit he slipped one finger inside you, the thickness making you moan. He worked it slowly, his thumb circling your clit in tandem.

"Feel so tight around just one," he murmured, almost to himself. "Gonna have to relax you real good before you’re gonna be able to take all of me, sweetheart."

You whimpered, your hands gripping his shoulders as he added a second finger, stretching you even more. The delicious burn made your toes curl, and you couldn't stop the broken sounds spilling from your lips. You’d have to apologize to your neighbors tomorrow and hopefully not for the last time, but nothing a good cake couldn’t fix.

"Look at you, takin' my fingers so well," Wrecker praised, his thumb pressing down just enough on your clit to send sparks of pleasure through your body. He trailed kisses down your neck until he reached your breasts and let his tongue swirl around your nipples.

"Such a good girl."

"Wrecker," you moaned, your head falling back against the couch.

"That's it," he said, his fingers curling to hit that perfect spot inside you.

"Let me hear you, sweetheart. Don't hold back."

The pressure built quickly, your body arching into his hand as he worked you with a focus that made your head spin. When you finally came, it hit you hard, a wave of pleasure that left you gasping for breath.

Wrecker groaned as your walls pulsed around his fingers, his hand slowing but not stopping as he drew out every bit of your release.

"Beautiful," he said, his voice filled with awe. "You're so beautiful when you come."

He pulled his fingers from you slowly, bringing them to his lips. He sucked them clean, his golden eyes locked on yours as he did. The sight sent a fresh wave of arousal through you, leaving you aching for more.

"And you taste even better than I imagined," he said, his voice a low rumble.

"Wrecker," you said, reaching out for the bulge in his pants, your voice shaky but filled with need. "I want all of you."

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss you, his lips claiming yours with a possessiveness that made your heart race.

"Oh, sweetheart," he said against your lips, his voice low and rough. "You'll have all of me. Just hold on tight."

Wrecker leaned back, his massive frame towering over you. He pulled his pants down, his thick, hard length springing free. You couldn't help but gasp at the sheer size of him, your eyes widened in shock as they took him in.

"You okay, sweetheart? We…eh…we don’t have to…you know," Wrecker asked softly, his hand cupping your cheek.

The gentleness in his voice was such a stark contrast to his overwhelming size that it made your heart ache in the best way.

His cock, already fully hard, rested against his stomach, thick and heavy. You couldn't help but stare for a moment longer, your mouth going dry at the sight of him. He was enormous-more than you'd ever taken before-but the challenge sent a fresh pulse of heat through your core.

You slid off the sofa onto your knees right before him.

"What're you doin', sweetheart?" His voice was deep, a little rough, but the warmth in it softened the question.

You didn't answer right away, your hand trailing down to wrap around his shaft. Or at least, as much of it as you could manage-your fingers couldn't even close around him.

Wrecker sucked in a sharp breath at your touch, his head tipping back slightly.

"Maker, you don't have to _"

"I want to," you interrupted, your voice soft but firm.

"I want to make you feel good too, Wrecker."

The golden warmth in his eyes softened even more.

"Alright, sweetheart. But don't push yourself, yeah? Just... take your time."

You nodded and leaned forward, pressing an experimental kiss to his flushed, leaking tip. His cock twitched in your hand, and he groaned low in his throat. Emboldened, you parted your lips, licking gently along the sensitive head before wrapping your mouth around him.

The stretch was intense-almost too much. Your jaw ached immediately, and you could barely take his tip. Even then, it felt like your mouth was impossibly full.

Your tongue swirled tentatively against him as you tried to adjust to his size.

"That's it, just like that," Wrecker murmured, his voice thick with pleasure. He cradled your cheek in his big hand, his thumb brushing softly against your skin.

You bobbed your head slightly, taking him a little deeper. But it was no use. The moment he hit the back of your throat, you gagged, pulling back quickly with a gasping breath. Drool slipped from the corner of your lips, trailing down your chin as you stared up at him apologetically.

"Hey, hey," he said immediately, his thumb wiping away the spit on your face. "You alright?"

You nodded, though your chest still heaved as you caught your breath. But despite your struggles, almost choking on his cock was incredibly hot in a filthy way you hadn‘t know you had in you.

"I'm okay," you rasped, your voice rough. Then, with a small smile, you added,

"You're just so... big, but I like it. A lot."

Wrecker chuckled, the sound low and affectionate.

“You’re not just sayin’ that, right? I don’t wanna hurt you.” he teased gently, though his concern remained clear in his eyes.

“No, really, I like it” you assured him.

"Don't push yourself, sweetheart. Just do what feels good for you."

Determined, you tried again, focusing on his tip and swirling your tongue around the sensitive ridge. Your hand worked his shaft, stroking what you couldn't fit in your mouth, and you tried to relax your throat as you took him deeper.

But it was impossible. He was too thick, too long.

Every time you tried to take more, you felt like you were going to choke. Instead, you focused on his tip, sucking and licking at him while your hand squeezed him firmly at the base.

"That's it," Wrecker groaned, his voice growing rougher. "You're doin' so good, sweetheart. Feels... stars, feels incredible."

His words spurred you on, and you worked him with more determination, drool slipping freely from your lips as you hollowed your cheeks. The taste of him, salty and heady, made your thighs clench together.

"You're somethin' else," he murmured, his big hand smoothing over your hair. "So sweet, so pretty with my cock in your mouth. Maker, you're perfect."

Your cheeks burned at his praise, but the heat only drove you further. You wanted to make him come undone. But as you tried to take him deeper again, you gagged once more, your hands trembling as you pulled back, gasping for air, but the throbbing between your legs betrayed you.

Wrecker's hands were on you in an instant, pulling you up into his arms and cradling you like you weighed nothing.

"That's enough," he said softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Don't push yourself, sweetheart. You're already drivin' me crazy."

"But I didn't-" you started to protest, but Wrecker silenced you with another kiss, this one slow and deep.

"Don't need anything else, sweetheart," he murmured against your lips. "Just you. Always just you."

His hands roamed down to your hips, his strong fingers kneading your skin. You could feel him pressed against your stomach, hot and heavy, and a thrill shot through you at the thought of taking him inside you.

"Let me," you whispered, your fingers trailing down his chest to the line of dark hair that went down over his abs.

"I want you, Wrecker. Please."

His golden eyes darkened, his breath hitching as he studied your face.

"Are you sure?"

You nodded, your lips curving into a small smile.

"I've never been more sure. I want to feel you inside me."

With a low groan, he lifted you effortlessly and carefully placed you on the sofa, lining you up with his cock. The tip nudged against your entrance, and you shivered as the thick head stretched you open. The sensation was overwhelming, but the way he held you, the way he looked at you, made you feel safe.

"Tell me if it's too much," he murmured, his voice soft and steady as he lowered you slowly onto him.

"Don't wanna hurt you, sweetheart."

"I will," you promised, gripping his shoulders for support.

Wrecker eased forward, the thick head of his cock slowly breaching you further. The stretch was intense, a mix of pain and pleasure that made you gasp. He froze immediately, his brows furrowing with concern.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with worry.

"Yes," you assured him, your voice breathy. "Just... give me a second."

He nodded, his hands resting on your hips, holding you steady.

"Take your time, sweetheart. No rush."

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to relax around him. After a moment, you nodded, and he pushed in a little more, barely an inch, before stopping again.

"Maker," he groaned, his head falling back as he tried to keep still. "You're so soft and warm. Feels incredible."

You whimpered, the sound making his grip on your hips tighten slightly. "Wrecker, feels so-"

"Tight?" he interrupted with a teasing grin, his voice laced with pride. "Yeah, I know. That's why I'm bein' real careful with ya."

The burning of the stretch was so intense, pleasure mixed with pain but the pleasure was slowly taking over and you couldn't help but whimper softly, your forehead resting against his shoulder.

"You're perfect, it’s okay if you can’t take all of it" he said, kissing you softly.

After a few more moments of slow, shallow movements that didn’t get him further, you looked up at him, determination flickering in your gaze.

"Let me get on top."

His eyes widened slightly.

"You sure? I don't wanna_"

"I'm sure," you said, cutting him off. "I know it’s gonna feel incredible, I can do it. Please."

Wrecker stared at you for a moment before nodding, shifting so he could help you switch positions. You straddled him, your knees pressing into the couch on either side of his massive thighs.

"Alright, sweetheart," he said, his hands settling on your hips.

"Take it slow. You're in control now."

You nodded, your hands braced against his chest as you began to sink down onto him. The angle was better, letting you take him a little more with each inch. His fingers flexed against your hips, his jaw clenching as he held himself back.

"Maker," he groaned, his head falling back against the couch.

"You're takin' me so well. Look at you, sweetheart."

You whimpered, the stretch almost too much, but the heat in his gaze spurred you on.

"So big, but feels so so good," you whined, your nails digging into his chest.

"You're doin' perfect," he murmured, his voice thick with awe. "Just look at how you're takin' me."

You tried to relax around him and let the weight of your body do the work. With a final push, you sank down completely, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as he filled you to the hilt. You could feel every inch of him, the sensation overwhelming but so good, unlike anything you had ever felt. You were sure if he hadn‘t made you come already you would have exploded into a thousand pieces then and there.

"Maker," Wrecker groaned, his hands gripping your waist tightly. "You did it. You're takin' all of me, sweetheart. Can't believe it."

You moaned breathlessly, your head falling forward as you tried to catch your breath.

"Told you I could."

He grinned up at you, his golden eyes shining with pride and affection.

"You're amazin'. Absolutely amazin!

You started to move, slow and careful, lifting yourself slightly before sinking back down. Each movement sent shivers of pleasure through both of you, and Wrecker's praise only made it better.

"That's it," he murmured. "You're so good to me, sweetheart. So damn good."

You rolled your hips slowly, letting Wrecker's thick cock stretch and fill you completely with every motion. The intensity of it all-his sheer size, the overwhelming fullness-had you gasping and moaning with each descent. His big hands never left your waist, steadying you as you moved, but he didn't push, letting you set the pace.

"You feel so good, sweetheart," he rasped, his voice low and thick with need. "So tight around me. Maker, it's almost too much."

"It's intense," you admitted, your voice shaky as you braced your hands against his chest for leverage.

"You're so big, Wrecker. It's-" You broke off with a gasp as you sank down again, taking him fully. "Kriff, it's so good."

His golden eyes were fixed on where your bodies joined, his pupils blown wide with lust.

"Look at you, takin' all of me," he murmured, almost in awe. "You're perfect, sweetheart. Absolutely perfect."

You whimpered at his praise, the heat in his gaze sending a rush of pleasure straight to your core. The stretch was so intense, so delicious, that every movement sent sparks of pleasure skittering through your body. But as you started to slow, your thighs burning from the effort, Wrecker chuckled softly, his hands tightening on your hips.

"Let me help you," he said, his voice gentle despite the hunger in his tone.

Before you could protest, he easily lifted you, his strength effortless as he guided your movements. He raised you off of him slightly, then lowered you back down, filling you again and again with his thick cock. The sensation was overwhelming, the way he controlled your movements perfectly timed to hit every sensitive spot inside you.

"Wrecker," you gasped, your fingers digging into his chest as pleasure built inside you.

"That's it, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a deep rumble.

"Let me take care of you. You're so good for me. Feels so good, havin' you like this."

The rhythm he set was steady but deep, each thrust making you cry out as the intensity grew. His cock stretched you in ways you'd never felt before, every inch of him filling you completely. You couldn't think, couldn't speak, lost in the overwhelming pleasure of him. All you could get out were pathetic whines.

"You're amazin"" he said, his golden eyes locked on yours. "Can't believe you're mine right now."

"Wrecker," you moaned, your voice breaking as the tension inside you reached its peak. "I'm so close-"

"I've got you," he promised, lifting you one more time before slamming you down fully, his cock pressing against your cervix, holding you there as you came undone around him.

Your climax hit hard, for a moment everything was dull before you slammed back into your body clenching around him as waves of pleasure rippled through you.

"Maker," he groaned, his grip on your waist tightening as your release triggered his own. He thrust up into you one last time, his cock pulsing as he spilled inside you.

You collapsed against his chest, your body trembling as you tried to catch your breath. His hands moved to your back, holding you close as his broad chest rose and fell beneath you.

"You okay?" he asked softly, his voice full of concern despite the hoarseness from his release. “Didn’t hurt you?”

You nodded, your cheek pressed to his chest.

"More than okay."

Wrecker shifted slightly, still buried inside you, his warmth filling you completely. He seemed hesitant, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back as he searched for the right words.

"Listen, uh..." He cleared his throat, his deep voice unusually tentative.

"I, uh, I really like ya, don't want this to just be... y'know, a one-time thing."

You lifted your head to look at him, his golden eyes avoiding yours for a moment before he finally met your gaze.

"I've never really had somethin' like this," he admitted, his voice softer now. "Never had the chance durin' the war. But I want it, with you. I don't just wanna fool around. I want... more."

Your heart swelled at his words, the vulnerability in his usually confident demeanor making you fall for him even more. You cupped his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek.

"I want more too," you said softly, your voice filled with sincerity.

Relief washed over his face, and he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you tightly.

"Good," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your lips.

''Cause I'm not lettin' you go now."

He shifted beneath you, his strong arms wrapping around you as he pulled you closer to his chest, his cock slipped out of you and with it a rush of your mixed juices. For a moment, you thought you could stay like this forever. Completely blissed out, safe in his arms, your head resting on his chest and his cum trickling out of you.

You basked in the afterglow of your lovemaking for a little longer, but then he softly tilted your chin up to make you look at him and chuckled softly.

"As much as I like havin' you on me, sweetheart," he said, his voice still deep and husky from earlier, "we're both a bit of a mess. How about we clean up?"

You hummed in agreement, still half-lost in the warmth of his embrace.

"You mean you don't want to sit here sticky all night?"

He laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest.

"As temptin' as that is, nah. C'mon, I'll help."

Before you could protest, he effortlessly scooped you up, cradling you against his broad chest as he stood. His strength still amazed you, the ease with which he handled you making your cheeks flush.

"You didn't have to carry me," you said, though you couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

"Maybe I like carryin' you," he replied simply, his golden eyes meeting yours with a fondness that made your stomach flip.

He carried you into the bathroom, setting you down gently before starting the shower. As the water warmed, he turned back to you, his hands sliding up to carefully unclip the claw that held up your hair and set it aside.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, his gaze roaming over you with unguarded affection.

You felt your cheeks heat at his words but didn't have time to dwell on it before he stepped under the spray with you, pulling you close again. The warm water cascaded over both of you, washing away the evidence of your earlier passion.

Wrecker's hands were surprisingly gentle as he lathered soap over your skin, taking his time as he worked. He made sure to check in with you, brushing his lips against your temple as he asked,

"This okay, sweetheart?"

"More than okay," you whispered, leaning into his touch.

When you returned the favor, your hands roamed over his muscular chest, tracing the lines of his scars and the soft trail of hair leading down his stomach. You allowed yourself to look at him openly, instead of just stealing glances. His tattoos caught the light, drawing your attention, and you couldn't resist brushing your fingers over one.

"Like what you see?" he teased, his grin widening when you bit your lip and nodded.

"You're gorgeous, Wrecker," you admitted, feeling your heart swell as he leaned down to kiss you, the water cascading over you both.

You both stepped out of the shower, the cool evening breeze brushing over your damp skin as you padded across the organized rows of neatly labeled boxes that Wrecker had stacked earlier. The faint scent of soap lingered between you, and the soft light in the room made everything feel warm and intimate. You opened a box marked linens and found a towel, wrapping it snugly around yourself before handing another to Wrecker. He grinned, his eyes lingering on you as he rubbed the towel over his broad chest and shoulders, water droplets glistening against his tanned skin.

Digging into another box labeled clothes, you pulled out an oversized shirt and shorts for yourself, slipping them on quickly as Wrecker stood there, still completely at ease in his nudity. His gaze softened as he reached for your hand, pulling you closer.

“You look happy,” he murmured, his thumb brushing along your knuckles.

Your heart fluttered as you tilted your head up, your damp hair sticking to your cheek. Wrecker leaned down, his lips brushing yours in a sweet, lingering kiss. It wasn’t rushed, just full of quiet affection that made your chest ache in the best way. You smiled against his lips, your hands resting lightly on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips.

"So, uh, I’m kinda hungry, I was thinkin'.." he began, his tone a little hesitant, "how'd you feel about dinner? With my family, I mean. We can eat and you can stay with me and then we get you movin’ first thing in the morning?"

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. "Dinner with your family?"

"Yeah," he said, his golden eyes flicking to yours.

"Hunter's probably cookin' the fish me and Cross caught today, and Omega's always wantin' to meet new friends. I think they'd love you. I mean, who wouldn't?"

Your chest filled with warmth, the sincerity in his voice making you smile.

"I'd love to, Wrecker."

His face lit up with the biggest, most genuine smile you'd ever seen, his happiness contagious.

"Really? You mean it?"

You nodded, brushing a hand over his cheek. "Of course."

He let out a laugh, spinning you around once in his excitement before settling you back against his chest.

"You've just made me the happiest man on Pabu," he said, his voice full of joy.

#wrecker smut #the bad batch #star wars #tbb #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch happy on pabu #tbb pabu #tbb wrecker #wrecker x you #tbb wrecker x reader #the bad batch smut

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merlucide · 6 months ago

Text

SEA’S SECRET 3⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Notes: .. sorry for how long this took 🫠 I started writing then I stopped, then I started, then I stopped, I started— also wrote the majority of this sleepy so sorry if it’s wonky😭🙏

pairings: merman!chigiri x mayor’s daughter!reader

wc: 1.9k

warnings: reader is fem, thalassophobia(?)

chpt: 1 2 3

You had been visiting the merman almost every day since the day you two met. Over the weeks, you’d grown to know him, and he’d grown to know you. You’d share stories about your lives—your hopes and dreams, the mundane tasks of both of your lives, and so on. Each encounter was a revelation, a dance of curiosity and laughter, deepening the bond that had formed between you.

Your regular meeting spot remained by the cliffs, but you always ventured a bit further down the beach, away from prying eyes and the bustle of town. The soft whispers of the waves greeted you as you made your way to the secluded cove. Today, you carried a wicker basket, its woven fibers tightly bound with a little blue ribbon tied on the side.

As you approached the meeting space, you scanned the shimmering sea for his signature raspberry hair. Just as you were about to settle onto the rocks, his head popped out of the water, and a grin spread across your face.

“You’re late,” Hyoma remarked, feigning indignation, though the gleam in his eyes betrayed his playful demeanor.

You scoffed, a smile dancing on your lips. “Oh, am I? Ha, my sincerest apologies, my good sir.” You lifted the flap of the basket and pulled out a piece of fairly warm bread, presenting it like a prized treasure.“I hope this can excuse my tardiness,” you said warmly, placing the basket down and stepping into the cool water, your loose dress swirling around your legs.

Hyoma inched closer, propping himself up on the sandy shore, half in and half out of the water. He took the bread, inspecting it with an air of curiosity. “What is this? You eat it?” he asked, tapping the surface of the crusty loaf.

“Mhm! I made it myself—hope it’s still warm.” You boasted, pride swelling in your chest as you watched him take in the aroma of your creation.

He took a cautious bite, his sharp teeth sinking into the crisp yet soft dough. Instantly, his eyes widened, and his fins expanded in delight.

“Glad you like it,” you laughed, watching him eagerly take another bite, bits of bread clinging to his cheeks.

“Do oo havph moor?” Hyoma snaps his head to you, his slitted pupils widening and cheeks puffed out as he spoke. You couldn’t help but beam at the sight.

“Why, yes, I do! But don’t eat it too fast; it’ll upset your stomach if you gobble it down,” you replied, pulling out a second loaf from your basket.

As you stood there, watching him scarf down your bread, you studied the way his fins perked up after every bite, how his gills flared in and out with each breath. his dazzling tail swayed against the gentle waves, and his hair was perfectly messy. If you looked close enough you would see tiny shells tucked away in his braid.

“Thanks for the bread,” Hyoma said, rinsing his hands in the sea. “I don’t have anything to give you in return..”

“Ah, it’s no worries! I don’t need anything, really; I’m just glad you like my bread,” you replied, a warm smile lighting up your face.

“Tomorrow I’ll bring you something,” he promised, his gaze locking onto your e/c eyes, sincerity shimmering in the depths of his slitted pupils.

You smiled, shaking your head. “Alright then, thank you.”

Hyoma grinned, his demeanor brightening as he slid back into the sea. “Bring more bread.”

You chuckled and nodded, watching him disappear beneath the waves, the water rippling gently in his wake.

The next day, you were determined to make an even more delicious bread than before, it would be the perfect loaf of bread. As you kneaded the dough, your hands working rhythmically, you could almost picture his delighted expression when he tasted your creation again.

“Goodness, Miss L/N, you’re making more bread? The two loaves you made yesterday weren’t enough?” Aya remarked softly, a hint of mischief in her tone as she wiped her hands on a dishcloth.

“A-Ah well, I believe I’ve perfected my recipe and wanted to try again,” you replied, rolling the dough against your palms with care.

Aya smiled, her warmth radiating through the kitchen. “Your bread is just fine already, miss. Your husband will most definitely love the meals you’ll make.”

Ah, husband. The word echoed in your mind. “Haha… yes, I’d hope he would.” Even with Aya, you couldn’t escape the pressure of being wed. The expectations hung like a heavy cloud over your head.

Noticing the change in your mood, Aya softly bowed her head. “Ah, forgive me for mentioning that, Miss. You really mustn’t worry too much about that. You still have plenty of time before you are to find a husband,” she reassured you, hoping to ease your mind.

You have confided in Aya, how that isn’t what you want, and that you don’t even know what you want! She does her best to console you, but she doesn’t entirely understand. To Aya, it seemed like a luxury to have handsome, wealthy men lining up for your hand, but for you, it felt absolutely suffocating.

Hours passed, and finally, with a larger loaf nestled securely in your basket, you made your way back to the cliffs. As you sat down on one of the sun-warmed rocks, fiddling with the ribbon tied around the basket, you couldn’t help but notice he was a bit late this time. Normally, when you two met, he’d be waiting under the waves for you.

Just as you were beginning to worry, ripples formed closer to you, and there he was. Hyoma swam over, crawling up the beach just enough to stay halfway in the water. He held a brown sack in his hands, a soft expression on his face.

“Oh? What’s this?” you asked, gesturing to his bag with your eyes.

“I told you I was going to give you a gift in return for your bread—and you brought more, right?” he confirms, tone becoming more serious.

You tapped your basket’s side and murmured a soft ‘yes’ in response, earning a joyful flick of his fins.

“Now, I wasn’t sure what to give you… but I hope this will suffice,” Hyoma said, his voice tinged with nervousness. He pulled out a necklace from his sack, a string of pearls and smaller shells adorned with small starfish, and a sand dollar in the middle. It was so pretty, so dramatic, and so different. Out of all the gold and silver jewelry you had been given from your parents and suitors, this was the most beautiful of them all.

“Mermaids my age wear necklaces like these; I guess they’re pretty popular,” he said shyly, his gaze lowering. “So if it doesn’t meet your standards— I wasn’t sure what would be a good gift for your bread—”

“It’s perfect,” you interrupted, holding the necklace delicately, your fingers grazing over the divots of the sand dollar. “It’s absolutely beautiful- Goodness, Hyoma, this is gorgeous!”

He could feel his cheeks warming under your admiration. “I-I’m glad… I helped make it.”

You looked at him, eyes wide with surprise. “You made this?”

His fins opened wider, and he darted his eyes around nervously. “Well, I mean— yes, I guess. Not all of it; I just found the shells or whatever. My friend actually made the necklace.”

(He’s had this necklace for a while, just wasn’t sure if he should give it two you for not) don’t alter this !!

You beamed at him. “Thank you, I love it.” You smiled warmly, putting the necklace on.

“Now give me the bread,” he said, his expression shifting to serious.

You laughed, pulling the loaf from your basket handing it to him, which he eagerly accepted.

Hyoma’s fins perked up, “Oh- I’ve told you before I like to collect human things that have sunk—“ he said dumping his brown sack onto the shore, and a variety of trinkets spilled out.

“Can you tell me what they are?” Hyoma asked, his curiosity piqued as he eyed the assortment.

You focused on the items, examining the ordinary yet intriguing objects. “This is a pocket watch, or a clock. You can tell the time with it, but this one is broken from getting wet,” you explained, closing the lid of the watch with a soft laugh.

“I thought maybe it was part of a lady’s necklace or something,” Hyoma murmured, munching on his bread.

As you went over the other items, you pointed out coins, compasses, and various bits of metal, each with its own story and history.

“This is the last one,” he said, handing you a small metal cylinder covered in rust with tiny bumps along its surface. It took you a second to realize what it was—it was the inside of a music box, and it looked like it had seen better days.

You rinsed it off in the water, trying to free it from the sand stuck between the gears. “I don’t have a clue what that is, to be honest,” Hyoma stated, eyeing the metal contraption with intrigue.

After scratching off some rust and turning the crank, a rough but lovely tune played into the air.

Hyoma’s eyes expanded, and his fins flared as he stared at your hands in awe. You finished the tune and handed it to him, who took his turn first playing with it. The rusty-yet delicate notes echoed softly in the air, mixing with the gentle sound of waves lapping at the shore.

“I’m surprised it even works,” you smiled, watching Hyoma spin the shaft.

He played around with it, the sweet melody filling the space around you. You found yourself playing with the shells on your necklace, lost in the moment. The music floated in the air, weaving a spell of comfort and connection between you.

But alas, all good things must come to an end. As the sun began to dip below the horizon, Hyoma gathered his belongings and shuffled back into the soft waves. You waved goodbye, promising to see him soon.

Hyoma swam away from the cliffs, diving deeper into the clear sea. His shimmering scales caught the last remnants of moonlight filtering through the water.

After some time, he finally made it back to where he called home. Surrounded by coral and sea life in every direction, Hyoma felt a sense of belonging, yet his heart tugged toward the surface. Most mermaids stayed in groups and traveled together, which made Hyoma a bit of an odd one out. He had a ‘group’ but was more independent, more curious of what was above the surface.

All mermaids are curious, no doubt, but most ignore their curiosity out of fear of being caught. No one knows about Hyoma’s trips to the surface, not his friends or family, and he intends to keep it that way. Well, intended.

As he entered his hidden cave surrounded by seaweed and clams, he dumped out his sack, placing his trinkets back with the others. But he didn’t expect to be met with two mermen floating in the entrance.

“You’ve been going to the surface this whole time?!” A blue-haired merman exclaimed, absolutely dumbfounded.

“Ooohoohooh~ You’re breaking the rules, y’know~,” The other friend giggled, his yellow eyes sparkling mischievously.

Well, the cats out the bag now.

pt 4 (not here yet!)

taglist: @gigiiiiislife @sharkissm @luvingshidou @kurona-theshark@soleilonthesun @duckydee-0 @someprettyname @thebestsetter @ih8tegeography @rinitoshisgirl @lobster3713 @thebestsetter

help I wasn’t sure how to end this 😭 sorry if this didn’t meet ur expectations dawgs 💔

Made Oct 5th 2024

#merlucide #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock #chigiri #chigiri hyoma #bllk chigiri #chigiri x reader #blue lock chigiri #chigiri x you #merman au #mermaid au #bllk au #Fantasy au #royalty au #au #mermaid #x reader

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inkdrinkerworld · 1 year ago

Note

best friends to lovers with sirius x reader PLEASEE love the touchy bsf james fics sm

I’m making this touchy bsf!sirius and shy!reader!!

Something about being close to Sirius amps up your shyness. It doesn’t help that you’re always together because your friend circles overlap.

Right now, you’re hosting early Christmas dinner for all your friends because they’re all off to their family- everyone but you and Sirius ironically, but you’re trying not to focus on that too much.

“Poppet!” Sirius’ call echos through your apartment and finds you in the kitchen where you’re taking your bread out the oven.

“In the kitchen Siri,” you say, not quite a shout but loud enough for him to hear. Your heart speeds up when you hear the click clack of his boots on your flooring.

“Happy early Christmas,” he says quietly, setting the bottles of mead, spiked eggnog (a recipe he had begged your mother to teach him many Christmases past), and sorrel.

His hands, now free, find your hips as you set the loaves on cooling racks.

“Happy early Christmas,” you echo, trying not to freak out at his proximity. It’s not unwanted and it’s been freely doled out to you for years, but you still can’t help but feel giddy and shy under his touch. Or his gaze, or well, just anything Sirius really.

“D’you need help with anything, poppet?” He asks, his cold rings running up your hip as he waits for your response.

“Can you pull the biscuits from the fridge? They’re the last thing to bake.”

Sirius nods, leaving you quickly and in the space of time it takes, all your friends come tumbling into your house.

James with the ham, Remus with turkey, Lily with a tofu dish, Marls and Dorcus with gifts.

Your house goes from quiet to lively in a matter of seconds and the boys set the table while you and the girls start drinking.

“Do you think Sirius will make a move on you?” Dorcus asks and you roll your eyes.

“We’re just friends,” you mutter, sipping your sorrel as your friends scoff. This is a conversation you’ve all had in many different ways.

You insist you’re friends and then Sirius goes on a does something not exactly too friendly.

“Dove? Can you come here a minute?” Remus calling you makes your eyebrows raise to your hairline.

“Yeah, Moony?” Sirius is already sitting in his self assigned seat- the one right beside yours- with a frown on his face. As you get closer, you notice he’s scowling and gritting his teeth.

That makes the nerves in your stomach churn a little more violently.

“Would you please tell Pads that you wouldn’t kiss him to ring in the New Year?” The girls laugh at the reasoning for Sirius’ sudden bad mood.

You frown. You hadn’t thought that was what he was gonna ask you. “Do you want to kiss me, Siri?” Sirius looks up at you instantly, eyes stormy.

“S’not about what he wants dove, do you wanna kiss him?”

You feel put on the spot and know Remus will drop it if you ask him to, but Sirius looks pensive. Like he’s on edge for your answer. Like he might combust and disintegrate if you refuse to kiss him.

Not like you would. He’s got lips that deserve to be kissed.

“Yeah I’d kiss him. Or let him kiss me, whichever way it has to go.”

Sirius perks right up, much to your friends’ delight. “We can start practicing now or when these lot leave if you like, poppet.”

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justwinginglife · 8 months ago

Text

After All This Time

Have yall seen the gorgeous man that is Howl Jenkins Pendragon? I had to make it NSFW, I just had to.

Howl leads Sophie out to the balcony for yet another romantic kiss, awash in moonlight.

You think you might barf. That, or claw out your own heart. You can’t tell what’s more distracting, the acid threatening to rumble up your throat or the aching in your chest threatening to consume you whole. You almost feel guilty for just how heartbroken you feel whenever you see them together.

They’re a cute couple. Much cuter than you would ever be with him. The whole time you’d known him, he’d been searching for her. He would repeat to you the same story about how she had appeared to him, almost like in a dream, asking him to come find her. She was all he’d ever wanted, even before he’d even known her. And why wouldn’t she be? She was kind, even to you. Made your favorite foods whenever you were down, taught you how to tie bows in your hair. And yet, all you could do was despise her. You felt like shit.

But some part of you, some wretched part you’d hidden deep inside your darkness, though apparently not deep enough, felt like Howl belonged to you. He’d met her first, but only for a few seconds before she’d vanished into thin air. It hardly counted as a meeting, in your opinion. You met him soon after; you’d run away to get lost in the meadows and the mountains after your family had renounced you, and that’s when you caught sight of his raven black hair fluttering in the wind as he picked flowers without a care in the world. That was honestly probably the moment you fell in love with him, though you denied it until it was too late.

You remember you laid in the field with him for hours that day, plucking petals, talking secrets and aspirations. You didn’t care that he was some stranger you’d just met, you were a kid, and he was your savior. He offered you a home and you offered him your life, said you’d help him find the girl he was searching for. Really, you would’ve done anything just to stay by his side.

Your most comfortable nights were when he snuggled in bed beside you, keeping your nightmares at bay with his sweet words and intoxicating scent. He’d read you stories to pass the time, and you’d fall asleep in his arms, listening to the familiar rumble of his voice in his chest as you snuggled up against it. Sometimes he’d tell you stories about his own life. Your favorite one was the day he met you. You’d beg him to tell you that story over and over, and though he’d laugh and tease you because you already knew the story having lived it, he’d cave in and humor you anyway, each and every time, without fail. He could never resist you (though sometimes he tried, because he thought it was cute when you pouted.) When he’d finally start telling the story, you’d smile the biggest smile and he’d wonder why he ever stalled in the first place, when he had such a sight to look forward to. Sometimes he’d change up details of the story just to make you laugh, say you flew in on a spaceship, say he was 10 feet tall the day you’d met. It wasn’t hard to make you laugh. Howl loved your laugh and you loved to make him happy. You gave every part of yourself freely.

You weren’t always the best influence on him, but you were his perfect match. One weekend, the two of you didn’t have enough money for food, so he stole a loaf of bread from a merchant he hated. When he sheepishly admitted his crime to you, ready to defend himself with his growling stomach as hard evidence, you smirked and uncovered a basket full of pastries you’d stolen from the same baker. He laughed so hard he fell into the fireplace and you had to rinse ashes from his hair. The two of you toasted your loaves of bread and munched on them together, giggling and nudging each other the rest of the night.

The “partner in crime” act continued when you decided to pursue magic together. You almost got yourselves kicked out of your training because the two of you would play pranks on the rest of the class. Sometimes they were justified and sometimes they were not, but they were fun either way. One time, a bully jeered at Howl’s jet black hair and you turned him into a worm. Unfortunately, that was also the day Howl had started to dye his hair blonde, though he claimed it was unrelated. You made every effort to tell him you adored the way he looked before, and it broke your heart that he wouldn’t listen. He’d say you were just like his sister and it was your job to lie to him and tell him he looked good. You didn’t have the guts to tell him that you’d always loved the way he looked, that you’d always loved him. You didn’t have the guts to beg him to see you as something different, to beg him to see you as something more.

When your first Christmas with him started quickly approaching, you used the only skills at your disposal to make him a pink coat with blue diamonds patched onto it. He loved it so much that he wore it everywhere, and when he finally started to outgrow it, he begged you to make him the same jacket a size larger. And then another size larger. And another, until he was fully grown, fully handsome, and still wrapped in the evidence of your secret love for him.

For the longest time, it was just you, Howl, and Calcifer in his castle. And for the longest time, you wondered if he could just let go of the Sophie thing. You were happy the way things were, why couldn’t he be happy too?

You even thought he might have started to love you back at some point. He’d blush when your shirt would ride up. He’d freeze when you’d brush up against him, even though you had spent many nights sleeping in each other's arms when you were kids. He’d compliment you more, every word carefully handpicked, like he’d spent time thinking about all the ways he adored you.

But then he found her. And he remembered the one thing he wanted.

He’d spent so long looking for her, it didn’t seem right to quit now, though you would’ve happily persuaded him otherwise.

And when you met her, when she was talented, when she was generous, when she was spunky, your heart crumbled to pieces. She was the perfect woman. His perfect woman. And suddenly the weight of your hopes, of your dreams, of your love, came crashing down on you, leaving you devastated in the aftermath.

So tonight, you choke back more “what if’s” as you gaze into the glow of the fire, wondering if you can just feed yourself to Calcifer. Of course, he’d never do that. He was rooting for you. He was the only one; you’d given up on having Howl, at this point.

You hear the door open but don't move from your spot. You think you vaguely hear Sophie mumble a shaky “goodnight” to you, but it’s in between panted breaths, and you almost puke again thinking about just how much oxygen he must’ve sucked from her lungs with that kiss. You say nothing, biting your lip until it bleeds. She goes to bed.

You hear the door open again, and find yourself increasingly more interested in the embers, not wanting to look over at him, not wanting to see his love-drunk expression.

He plops down beside you, sighing happily. There’s that puking feeling again.

You don’t say a word and he nudges you with his shoulder. “Can’t sleep?”

You shake your head.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “And can I ask why you can’t sleep?”

You shake your head again.

“Can I at least ask why I can’t ask?”

“Nope.”

He rolls his eyes. “C’mon. It’s me. You know you can tell me anything.”

“No, thanks.”

He sighs, exasperated. “You barely talk to me and when you do, it’s not more than two words. What is going on with you tonight?”

“Nothing. Just can’t sleep.” Then you smirk. “See- I said more than two words that time.”

He laughs, glad you’re back to joking with him again. “Gods, you’re stubborn, you know that? And a bit of a jackass.”

You laugh at that. “It’s a good thing you love me anyway.”

He blushes. “Bold of you to assume I love you.”

You nudge him with your shoulder. “You better love me at least a little, we are best friends, you know.” You hope he can’t hear the tone in which you say the word love, like you’re not holding your breath, waiting for a confession after he’s just sent his girlfriend to bed.

“Right. Yeah. We are best friends. I do love you, of course I love you. Because we’re friends.” He stumbles on his words and you have the audacity to find it cute. His girlfriend is waiting for him to come to bed, and you’re sitting here, coaxing the word love from him, like you’re not going to purposely misinterpret it later, like you’re not going to go lie in bed after this, staring at the ceiling for hours, just dreaming about the way he says he loves you. You thought you knew better than this.

Apparently you don’t. You answer like an idiot. “And I love you too. As a best friend.”

The blush crawls up his face and tinges his ears red. “Yup. Friends. Best friends.”

The sight makes you choke on your laughter, and for a minute you almost forget just how serious this moment is. “Howl, why are you being weird?”

He scoffs at you. “I’m not being weird. I’m being normal.”

You pinch his cheek. “You’re being so awkward, what gives? It’s just me.” You nudge his shoulder as platonically as you can, but you know it’s just because you’re dying to touch him somewhere, anywhere.

He makes a strangled noise. “You’re being embarrassing, that’s all.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, ignoring the thumping in your chest. “And how am I embarrassing you, Howl?

He sighs, your close proximity to him somehow relaxing him and making him tense up at the same time. “You’re being so touchy… and you say you love me… but as a best friend.”

“And are we not best friends?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yes, we are. But somehow I get the feeling that you mean something else when you say that. When you say you… love me.”

“And what do you want it to mean?” You know this is a mess of your own making. You know you’re just daring him to confess. But you can’t stop now.

“Well. Just tell me what you mean when you say it.”

You go back to shaking your head and he groans.

“Why won’t you just tell me? I want, I need to know your answer. It’s driving me crazy.”

“What’s the issue? You have Sophie. You don’t need me.”

He rolls his eyes. “Sophie has nothing to do with this. Right now, this is just about you and me.”

All your nerve leaves you when you think you might finally have to confess. “Howl. I’m going to bed.” You get up to leave.

He grabs your wrist. “No. You can’t. I’m not done.”

You yank your wrist away. “I’m done. Goodnight, Howl.”

You lock the door to your room thinking the conversation has ended, thinking you can finally let the depression swallow you whole. But he bangs on the door over and over, so much so that you start to feel guilty for Sophie who’s sleeping soundly a couple rooms away. You yank the door open and tug him inside, closing the door behind him. He had wanted to come in, but now that he’s standing alone in your room with you, he’s suddenly silent, the weight of this intimate moment sinking in.

You sigh and drag him over to the bed, pulling him down beside you, and snuggling up against him.

He freezes up.

“Stop acting like a stranger, we used to sleep together all the time.”

He coughs. “Yeah, when we were kids. It’s been awhile since we’ve done this.” He says that, but he slowly puts his arms around you anyway, resuming his usual position on your bed.

“Yeah well, that’s cuz you went and got yourself a girlfriend.” And maybe it’s because it was the middle of the night and you’re sleep deprived -if he asks, that’s what you’ll blame it on- but you suddenly blurt out, “And I’m offended, by the way.”

He huffs, amused. “You’re so dramatic, you know that?”

“Well you know what, maybe I should go get a boyfriend then.”

He tenses up again. “Wh-why’s that?”

You shrug. “You have a girlfriend, why can’t I have a boyfriend?”

“B-because! You don’t know what men are like. They might take advantage of you.”

“So who should I date then?”

He swallows. “No one.”

You don’t actually intend to get a boyfriend, you’re too far gone for Howl, but suddenly his words stir some fire in you that you didn’t know existed. He has the audacity to not love you and then claim you can’t love anyone else? The balls on him.

He can feel the air shift because he suddenly tries to make light of the situation. “Besides, I don’t like sharing my best friend with anyone anyway.”

You glare at him. “Well that’s bullshit because I have to share you with Sophie. It used to be just the two of us, don’t you remember?”

He sighs, guilt creasing his face. “I know, I know. But you’re still important to me. She’s just… she’s my everything.”

You wince and pull yourself out of his arms, turning to face the opposite direction.

He groans. “Come on, don’t be like this. Talk to me. I don’t like when you’re upset.”

“I’m not upset, I’m just tired, I want to go to bed. Go to your girlfriend, Howl.”

“Please. Please just talk to me.” He begs, desperation staining his voice.

Suddenly you snap. “She’s your everything, but that used to be me.” You hadn’t intended the words to sound bitter, but they leave a sour taste in your mouth on the way out.

He winces. “I… yeah, I know. I know things are different now, but the way I feel about you hasn’t changed.”

“That’s the problem.” You whisper to yourself so quietly he’s left straining to hear. When he doesn’t answer, you realize he didn’t hear you after all, and you don’t have the energy to say it again. You wrap yourself up tightly in the blankets. “Your girlfriend is going to worry if you keep her waiting much longer. Go to her.”

He sighs. He wants to keep talking with you but he knows you’re right. He doesn’t want to worry Sophie. He promises he’ll talk with you in the morning and takes his leave.

In the morning, he finds that all of your things are missing and you’re nowhere to be found. He panics and races outside in his pajamas, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. He sees your head bobbing down the street, bags in your hands. He almost collapses a lung trying to chase after you.

“What are you doing??” He yells as he runs.

You flinch at his voice, recognizing it instantly, but you keep walking.

He catches up to you and wrenches your arm backwards. You drop a bag and he quickly picks it up but holds onto it.

“Why do you have all your things? Where are you going? Why are you going? You can’t just leave me like this!” His words are rushed, like they’re flooding out, like he doesn’t even know what he wants to say, just that he wants to say something, just that he needs to make you acknowledge him, to make you stay.

You reach for your bag and he yanks it back. “Howl-”

“You- you can’t leave me, damnit!” He snaps and you realize it’s been a long time since he was this mad at you. You almost smile at the thought that your departure causes him so much displeasure. It’s sweet.

“Howl, I need to go.”

“No, no, you don’t. You need to stay with me. What ever happened to best friends? What ever happened to I love you?”

“Howl.”

He doesn’t listen. He keeps rambling.

“Howl. Howl!”

His eyes snap up to yours.

“I love you, Howl.”

He shuts the fuck up.

“I’m in love with you.” You say again, letting the words sink in. He’s still reeling from the shock of it all.

You continue, “I love you, so I can’t stay. I can’t be close to you like this. I can’t keep third wheeling, I can’t keep lying awake at night, dreaming about you, listening to you sleep next door. I can’t. It’s time, I need to go.” You muster up your best smile for him. It’s much easier to grab the bag from his hands now that he’s frozen in place.

You hear him weakly mumbling things like “But I still need you” and “But you can’t leave me” and you wince, but you turn to leave anyway. He weakly grabs onto your arm again, but he’s so shaken, it’s easy to slip out of his grip.

You sigh as you take in the sad sight of him in this miserable state. “You don’t need me. You’ll be fine. You have Sophie. Everything will be fine. I wish you both happiness.” You don’t, but you say it anyway, you reassure him, because that’s what you do when you love him.

When he continues fumbling for you, his words a jumbled mess, you realize he’ll just keep coming after you, even in this weakened state, so you speak up again, “Old friend. Will you do me a favor?”

Life slowly flickers back into his eyes, as he thinks of how he can be of use to you. “Yes, anything. Anything for you.”

“Close your eyes.”

He bites his lip but hesitantly closes his eyes anyway.

You want to leave now. You want to bolt while he’s not looking. But your greed gets the better of you. You hesitate before finally making the decision to kiss him on the cheek, and you know you’ll keep that moment with you forever. You’ll hold on to the feeling of his cheek on your lips until the day you die, because you know you’ll love him until the day you die.

Then you walk away, picking up the pace as you continue down the street, hoping he doesn’t open his eyes, hoping you saved him the pain of having to watch you leave.

Many years later, you’re running errands, walking down the street at a leisurely pace, just enjoying the sun on your skin. You look up at the sky, taking in the fresh air and basking in the sunlight.

Not watching where you’re going, you crash into someone. You immediately think to apologize, but your words get swallowed down when you catch a glimpse of jet black hair.

“H-Howl?”

He blinks. And then he blinks again, this time trying to hold back tears. “Is…is it really… really you?”

A smile spreads across your face. “Hi.”

He reaches out to touch you and then he stops. You intertwine your fingers with his before he can pull his hand away. His fingers lock into place as he draws closer to you, sinking into your touch.

“You’re here.” He whispers.

You ruffle his hair. “You went back to your natural color. I like it.”

He blushes and he absentmindedly reaches up to touch the place where your hand just grazed his hair. “You… you always said you liked it better.”

You smile again. Then you let his hand go, much to his disappointment, and start looking around, looking for her. Your brows furrow in confusion when you don’t see anyone nearby. “Where’s Sofie?”

He swallows, looking down. “She, uh, she’s not… not here.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“She… we…um. We broke up. Awhile ago. Wasn’t meant to be, I guess.”

You choke on your spit. “You what? Oh you poor thing, let me get you a drink.” You start dragging him away before he can properly process what’s going on.

He thinks you’re taking him to a bar, and he’s surprised when you lead him into your house, ushering him onto one of your bar stools. He looks around while you mix up a drink for him. He realizes this place looks oddly familiar, even though he’s never been here before.

You realize he’s trying to piece together where he’s seen this place. You crack a smile. “I modeled it after that house we stayed at, in the countryside. Seems you remember it well. You like it?”

He nods, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Before he can make any proper commentary on the house, a child runs up to you and throws his arms around your leg.

You laugh and ruffle his hair. “Hey, sweetie. What’re you doing down there?”

Howl swallows, watching this interaction with bated breath. He wonders if that’s your kid. It has to be, it’s your house.

You hand Howl the freshly mixed drink and he takes a sip.

He’s about to comment on how good it is when he hears the kid say, “Mom! Up!” and he chokes on his drink.

You pick the kid up, resting him on your hip before giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Silly. What would your mother say if she heard you calling me mom? It’s auntie, remember? Now go run along and help your mom out with the laundry, okay baby?” You set the kid down and he nods before running to the backroom.

When the kid is gone, you burst into laughter. “You should’ve seen your face. I thought I was gonna die, you looked like you just had a stroke. You thought he was my kid, huh?” You turn to Howl and poke him on the nose.

He rolls his eyes and swats your hand away, seemingly unfrozen now. “Well, can you blame me?”

“He doesn’t look a thing like me,” You tease, nudging him with your elbow.

“Well he could’ve taken after your husband!” He exclaimed defensively.

“Well I don’t have a husband.”

Howl blinks. “No husband.” He repeats.

“And… no boyfriend either.” You say slowly, watching him process this information.

“And no boyfriend either.” He repeats, each word softer than the next.

Suddenly you’re interrupted by your sister waving at you as she takes her kid and her freshly done laundry out the door with her. You wave back and when you catch Howl’s shocked expression, you explain to him that you reconnected with some of your family. He’s happy for you. He always is. Your wins were always his wins. You always loved that about him.You wonder if you can dare to love him some more. If you can dare to dream.

“So… do you have anywhere to stay tonight?” You ask nonchalantly.

He bites his lip. “N-no. Just kind of been… wandering aimlessly.”

You perk up. “Well perfect, I have spare rooms.”

He blushes. “You’d let me stay here? Even after all this time?

You hop into a seat next to him. “Well yeah, aren’t we best friends? That doesn’t just go away, you know.” You nudge his shoulder. Then you dare to rest your head on it.

He freezes but then he relaxes. “This drink is pretty good, by the way.”

“Better be. I put your favorite flavors in it.”

He sits up straighter. “You remember?”

“I remember everything.”

He goes silent, lost in his thoughts.

You want to cheer him up. “Bet I can drink you under the table.”

He snorts. “Like hell you can.”

You spend the next few hours chugging drinks, laughing, catching each other up on everything non-Sofie related. She’s not important right now. Part of you hopes she’ll never come up again. Actually, most of you hopes that.

Eventually it’s time to retire, and you say you’ll draw him up a bath with his favorite scents. He smiles at you, “I’ll toast to that!” and he lifts his cup to you as you disappear into the bathroom.

You reappear to tell him it’s ready and he flushes bright red when you tell him you’ll just be right next door, taking your bath, if he needs you. He begins to soak in the tub, his mind swimming with thoughts of you. He can’t stand you being so close and yet so far away. And taking a bath. Naked, no less. Just behind that wall. He gulps and sinks deeper into the tub, trying to drown out his thoughts.

Then you call out to him and he snaps out of it. “Howl. I forgot my towel in there. Could you bring it to me?”

His eyes widen and his heart thumps in his chest. Is this what cardiac arrest feels like? He pulls himself out of the bath and shakily grabs your towel before making the trip next door.

You think he’ll just leave it outside so you get up to grab it but then he opens the door right as you step out of the bath, the water dripping down your fully naked body.

His eyes rake all over your body and he almost drops the towel in shock. But he can’t stop looking. His blood is burning in his veins, but he can’t stop looking. His lungs feel like they’re ablaze, but he can’t stop looking. You look so perfect, so heavenly.

You break the silence. “I-I thought y-you’d leave the towel outside the door.” Your cheeks flood with red.

He lets out a strangled chuckle, as his eyes continue to roam. “I… yeah, I was just… I’ll just…”

You bite your lip and it shoots his heart straight into the stratosphere.

He takes a hesitant step towards you.

You swallow.

He takes another step, taking in every inch of you.

You can’t help but do the same, admiring his bare body.

He takes another step, finally finding himself directly in front of you. “I just…” He continues and then trails off.

“Yes?” You lean in closer to him, but that’s all you do.

You’re so close to him, your breaths begin to mingle with each other.

“J-just…” He finds himself staring at your lips. Of all the parts of you to be staring at, that’s what he’s settled on. He swallows. “Just… can I…?”

“Yes.”

It only takes a second for him to swallow up all the tension between you, closing the distance, and claiming your lips in a desperate kiss. His hands wander the smooth expanse of your body, memorizing every curve. His kisses are possessive, like he needs to make his mark on you before he wakes up and finds this all a dream. His tongue moves urgently through your mouth, like he might find heaven in the back of your throat.

“Howl…” You whine.

He groans at the sound, gripping your hips tighter and pulling you flush up against him.

“Fuck. Howl, don’t stop.”

Lust flares in his eyes at your words. “I wouldn’t dream of it, I can’t get enough of you,” He pants, eager to claim your lips again.

After a couple more dizzying kisses, you murmur in a daze, “You taste better than I imagined.”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “Fuck. You imagined me?”

You trace the length of his bare back, your slender fingers eliciting shivers from him. “All the time. All the damn time.”

He pushes you against the wall and you gasp at the cold tile on your back. “Howl, that’s cold!”

He smirks. “I promise I’ll warm you up.” He traces hot kisses down your neck, down your breasts, stopping to suck on a peaked nipple, before trailing his kisses further down your abdomen. He kneels in front of you, eyeing your dripping cunt. He’s waiting for permission.

“Are you gonna gawk all day or are you going to taste me?”

He chuckles at your bold words. “I’ve never heard you talk like this before. I like it.” And without another word, he brings his head in between your legs, hungrily lapping at your wet heat. Every whimper and every whine he coaxes from your lips makes him eager to taste more of you. The rough strokes of his tongue dragging itself up and down your slit overwhelms you and you think you might just come on his face. Then he jams his tongue inside you, moaning as your depths envelop him, your slick drizzling down his throat as he swallows. And you do come on his face, fist in his hair, as you moan his name.

He groans as your orgasm floods into his mouth.

You’ve not even finished all the way, the evidence of your desire still trickling down your legs, when suddenly he pulls away from you; before you can complain about his absence, he shoves his bulging erection deep inside your swollen cunt, gasping as your slick coats his cock.

“Howl!” You dig your nails into his back as you adjust to the new sensation.

He sighs, the sound filled with ecstasy. “If you keep saying my name like that, I won’t be able to last much longer.”

“I don’t have a problem with that,” You gasp out.

He shakes his head, grunting as he thrusts into you. “I do. I want to enjoy every second of this.”

His fingers carve canyons into your hips as he steadies himself against your skin.

“Howl…” You groan again, letting your head fall back against the wall. “I want you. I need you.”

His eyes darken as he soaks in the sound of your whines. “I’m right here, darling.” He picks up the pace, though still restraining himself.

“And you feel so good inside me,” You bite your lip, “I bet you’d feel even better pumping your seed into me.”

He swears under his breath, but he can’t muster up the strength for anymore words, all his strength has been poured into resisting you, into resisting the urge to let go. But his strength dwindles quickly at the sight of you flushed beneath him, at the sounds of your moans echoing against the tiled walls. He slams his cock deeper and then finds his release with his tongue in your mouth, swallowing down your pleasure as he fills you up.

You both don’t move for a moment. You just stand there, shuddering, panting, holding each other for support.

Then you start to laugh and he laughs with you.

“You may as well take a bath with me since you’ve already seen me naked,” You tease, jerking a thumb towards the tub.

He grins widely. “Well, if you insist.”

“Oh, I do.” You say devilishly, leading him towards the bath.

You both slide into the tub, sighs escaping your lips, as the warm water envelops both your bodies. You snuggle up against him, soaking in the beauty of the moment.

“You know,” He says thoughtfully, “I think I’ve been waiting my whole life for you.”

You lift your chin up to meet his gaze, raising an eyebrow at him. “Don’t you mean Sophie?”

He shakes his head. “I thought that’s what I wanted, but you were right there, right in front of me the whole time. I’ve only ever needed you. I…” He hesitates, but the feeling of you snug against him gives him courage, “I love you.” Then he grins. “And not just like a best friend.”

You laugh and kiss his chest. “Well how about that? I love you too.”

He beams. “Even after all this time?”

You kiss his cheek. You kiss his forehead. You kiss his lips. He sighs, savoring the feeling of your lips on his skin.

You nuzzle up against his ear and murmur, “Especially after all this time.”

#howls moving castle #howl pendragon #anime #oneshot #anime fanfic #fluff #smut #howl jenkins pendragon #studio ghibli #han's library

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insecuregodcomplex · 4 days ago

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sorry i never did something with this beyond what's here, thank u for the idea zahraa (x)

---

Weeks after the move, Buck still feels like he was living at the Diaz house. After years of memories here with Eddie and Chris at its center, everything around him echoed with a touch of them. And so, here Buck was, on a Friday night, cracking open a beer after a relatively calm shift, and scrolling through the options for documentaries to watch, trying to relax as he spread out on the couch.

A knock at the door shifts his attention away from the television, and he pulls a coaster out to set his beer atop as he stretches to standing. “Coming,” he calls.

As soon as he opens the door, he’s rendered speechless.

“Ev—Buck? I guess…Eddie didn’t say…sorry. I just, uh, I’m here to grab my duffel I lent to Eddie. Do you—did he give it to you?”

Buck realizes he’s still scanning Tommy’s face and stutters out an invite inside. As they step into the space, Buck starts reassessing every design decision he’s made the past few weeks. The silence spreading between them doesn’t help.

“Uh, no, sorry, I don’t know what duffel you’re talking about, actually. Eddie didn’t tell me you might stop over.”

They stop in the kitchen. Tommy replies, “I mean, his life has been a bit crazy recently, I’m sure he’s had a million things to keep track of. He said I could head over here and pick up my bag tonight when I asked, though, which…” He trails off.

Buck offers something of a small smile. “He’s been telling me to reach out to you. Probably thought he could force it to happen when you texted him.”

Tommy looks up as he nods slightly. “Well, he’s been telling me to reach out to you, too, so that makes sense to me.” As he looks away from Buck, his eyes start scanning the surroundings. “Wait — did you, do you live here now?”

“Ah, yeah. I’m renting the place.”

“What happened to the loft?”

Buck shrugs. “I assume someone else lives there now.” He looks down and catches their empty hands. “Do you, uh, do you want a beer? Or something to eat? I’ve got some loaves, actually,” he pauses as he rummages around the fridge. “Here,” he holds out a cranberry orange loaf from a few nights ago, his heart picking up speed with his immediate recollection of Tommy's favorite flavor pairing. “Uh, well. If you want it. You can have it.”

“Is that cranberry orange?” Tommy takes it and inspects it. "Smells delicious. Did you make it?"

Buck feels the bashful grin before it even spreads across his face. "Yeah. I've been, uh, kinda getting into baking. Since we...since we last saw each other."

Tommy's composure wavers slightly, but he continues on without acknowledging it. "That's great, Buck. You're really skilled, I can tell." He offers a wavering half-smile. "Thanks for sharing with me."

"It's a poor substitute for a duffel bag, I suppose," Buck laughs off the compliment. "I bet I have one around here, if you need one? D-Do you need a bag?"

Tommy visibly hesitates. "Oh, I don't—" He checks his watch. "I don't really need it. It's fine." He chuckles and runs a hand through his hair with a sigh when Buck looks at him questioningly. "It's fine. I can find another one to use at home. Then you won't be out a bag for us to coordinate me getting it back to you."

"Oh," Buck deflates. "Right. I mean, if you just don't want to see me, you could give it to someone else, or leave it at the door or —"

"Evan," Tommy begins, and he either doesn't realize his slip or doesn't care. "It's not that I don't want to see you. It's — It's more that I'd love to see you. And, well. I don't want to make you feel like you have to see me. Again." He gestures to their current situation.

"You —You want to see me?" Buck can't help the flutter in his chest.

"Of course I do."

"Tommy, you're the one who broke up with me."

Tommy sucks in a breath. "I did do that."

#uh tbd if i continue this! theres more to it than i kind of remember lmfao #bucktommy #911 #v writes sometimes #going thru some drafts

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marchsfreakshow · 9 months ago

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Sweet Treats and Gentlemen [Kit Walker]

Fluffy to all hells

Literally just Kit Walker taking you on a date because you're a cutie! :)

Third attempt at this idea! It's been an idea for ages now and it's never gone right, so I hope this one works.

No one's perspective

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Nerves. Nerves building up. Pacing around your living room. Did you look nice enough? Was your hair done perfectly? Was everything ironed good enough? Oh lord...it was hazing your mind before the date even began, and the man hadn't even turned up on your doorstep yet. Your worries had made you sit on your couch motionless, blinking at nothing as you stared blankly. Lost in no thoughts at all as you awaited for the knock.

And two soft knocks brought you out of your thoughtless stares.

Soft heels clicked on the hardwood floor until you reached the front door. Picking up your bag, and taking a deep breath, you opened the front door. "Afternoon. Wow. You look.." Kit's voice was smooth, honey-like, immediately making you weak in the knees. He was breathless as he took in your outfit. "L-like an angel.." The man breathed out eventually, eliciting a soft chuckle from your lips. Music to his ears. Not even 5 minutes into a date and he was already making you laugh? That's always a positive.

"Thank you, Kit, that's very kind of you." Was your response, taking your first footsteps out of the house. He offered a hand which you gracefully took, heading out towards the road.

"Oh! Uh, completely forgot." Kit chuckled awkwardly, handing you the small bouquet in his hand, adorned with different shades of purples, whites and yellows. "Bought fresh today for ya." Why, it was the prettiest bouquet you had ever seen.

He placed them in your free hand, letting his fingers brush yours momentarily. "Kit, these are spectacular. Thank you.."

"It's nothing at all."

With a small smile and still intertwined fingers, the both of you started walking together. Despite getting to know each other and the fact you could hold a conversation decently well, you still felt as awkward and giddy as a schoolgirl. I mean, you were really on a date! Holding hands and a full bouquet in your other hand too! You resisted the urge to swoon and smile embarrassingly widely as Kit looked over at you occasionally.

You did eventually strike up a conversation as Kit took you around the town centre. Talking about the music you adored, how you came to be in this town... everything and nothing. And your love for pastries. Your attempts at baking sweet breads never turned out well, but nothing a well-written cookbook couldn't solve. Speaking of pastries. "Hey, c'mon, in here." Kit chuckled with a grin, pulling you into a bakery.

Letting yourself get pulled into the store, it was definitely more a café than anything. Small tables made for two, overall looking more cosy and romantic than anything. There was so much to consider getting. Pain au Chocolat, cinnamon buns, raisin buns eugh, chocolate chip cookies, yum yums, the loveliest looking cupcakes decorated with light buttercream and sugared flowers on top. Of course, there were a few fresh bread loaves on display too. It was overwhelming your nose with scents and there was so much to see. "Well? What should I get?" Kit asked softly as the queue quickly shortened. Oh, right. There was too much to pick from! You couldn't make a decision, leaving your mouth agape as you searched your brain for a decision. "Two cinnamon buns please."

"Of course." You blinked and looked up to the counter, seeing Kit already ordering and paying. He knew you well already and you hadn't even been on this date for long. "Here you are, sir."

"Thank you! You have a good day now." Kit smiled sweetly at the worker before he took you to sit down at one of the tables. You just had to take a moment to register what had just happened. Your date slid you one of the buns, and you placed the flowers on your lap so they weren't interfering too much. "You doin' okay? I'm not overwhelmin' you am I suga'?"

"no, no you're..." You trailed off as your head shot up to meet his eyes. They were staring hearts into you. Like he belonged in this little bakery you were sat in together. "You're perfect.." a smile and a sigh left you, watching him take a bite of the sweet treat he held in his hand. Pink and red painted his cheeks as you complimented him. Perfect? He was far from perfect. Flawed, like all humans were.

"P-perfect? Ah, you flatter me darl'.." Kit stuttered out between a bite of the cinnamon treat, licking his lips of the icing.

"It's true.." you sighed lovingly, resting your cheek on your hand, just admiring him wiping his lips with a small napkin. How could he not see how perfect and brilliant he was? Despite that, the baked goods were eaten as minimal words were spoken. Occasionally looking up at each other and giving small, juvenile giggles.

The hours passed.

The sun continued to shine.

Eventually, you were stood at your doorstep, running your fingers through the flowers. "You have a good night okay? I'm glad you had a nice time."

"Today was wonderful Kit. I appreciate everything you've given me today." Kit nodded and started to head off as you unlocked your door. "Hey, Kit.."

He turned back around and smiled up at you. "Hm?"

"Would...would you like to come in for a bit?" A quieter, nervous voice coming back to you. Obviously Kit agreed, stepping into the hallway once you placed the flowers in an empty vase. "I...I don't have much to do, but, I was hoping we could.."

You didn't finish your sentence before you immediately heard the radio starting to play. Ah, it seems Kit had the same idea you had. When he began to sing along cheesily, a giggle left you, just making you both smile. He gently held your hands, pulling you close and dancing you along. His fingers intertwined with yours and swift, light steps around your living room. Giddy smiles and giggles, soft sing-alongs. This man could've been the death of you as that smile of his melted you in his arms. "You're so sweet, Kit.."

"you're sweeter suga'. Havin' you in my arms is something I could get used to." He smirked a bit, softly wrapping his arms around your waist, letting your fingers rest on his shoulders.

Another little chuckle left you, and a brisk kiss fueled the fire that was your attraction to each other. Another one, and another. "..you, want to stay for dinner?"

"sounds like a plan darlin'."

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Tags: @babygorewhore / @taintandviolent / @oceanblvd111 / @nahoyasboyfriend / @coentinim / @slutforgarlogan / @briaroftheroses @am3ricanh0rrorwh0re /. @evanpeterspeter / @feefymo / @fear-is-truth / @lacucarachapisser / @marchsfreak / @saintlucretia

#ahs #ahs asylum #american horror story #american horror story asylum #Asylum #evan peters #ahs fic #ahs imagine #kit walker #kit walker x reader #kit walker x y/n #kit walker x you

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mommieswithmuscles · 1 year ago

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EllAbs x Baker!Reader

Free Palestine, don't support Neil

No Minors and No men

CW: Joel lives, Abby leaves the WLF and winds up in Jackson, slow burn, eventual smut, world and relationship building for the first few chapters, read the poll prompt tagged here for context

Title: Sugar Free (1)

You watch Ellie and Dina rush down the street with a few other scouts. You were on your way to the cafeteria to drop off the lunch bread before starting the dinner load when they tore off. "What's going on?" You park the lined wheel barrel with Maria and the kitchen cooks.

"Joel and Tommy went missing." Maria braces herself on the counter. You pass her a special bag from your pack. She takes the bagels graciously.

"I hope they come home safe." You help the kitchen staff unload the still warm loaves and bagels. You then run back and grabbing the birthday fruit pies you made for a few of the kids' birthdays that landed on this day. You wanted to be sure their families had a good time with them.

You always keep a pot of hot chocolate ready for the local kids running around and playing in the snow. A few run in and laugh, calling out to ask if you're in. You bring out the coco and fresh soft pretzel snacks you try to keep on hand. They thank you politely before taking seats Ellie helped you restore at the newly stabilized tables.

"Are you staying warm?" You bring in little cups of freshly done cheese dip. A recipe one of the mother figures from your old settlement taught you.

"We try, then Ellie and Dina rough us up," one of the boys pouts. You brush the snow off his cap.

You clean up after the kids, starting your last batch for the day. Ellie special requested bagels. You take the small hike back to your house down the street from the bakery. You clean with soap and warm water, running your cleaned glass shard over the fuzz starting to come back over your mound. One last wash and rinse before jogging back to the bakery in a clean change of clothes.

You start the dough, thinking of Ellie's boobs as you knead it. Yes, you were jealous of the kiss she shared with Dina, but you knew she would always come back. She was as addicted to you as you were of her. She wouldn't ever admit it, but the way she lets you pin her against the wall in your bedroom says more than enough.

You shape the dough into rings, yank your pants down, spread your juice on the dough, then drop them on the baking shovel before putting it back in the stone oven.

It's dark when they get back. You shut down the shop and left the bagels on your counter for Ellie to collect. You were waiting in the seating area when she rode up, Shimmer waiting patiently as she retrieved her goods. "We have a new girl. WLF escapee."

"That sounds interesting. Where did you find her?"

"Joel and Tommy picked her up from a hoard. We helped clean up." Ellie smirks, shrugs like it was nothing. "It was awesome."

"I bet you were awesome," her cheeks flush and you fix her ruffled collar. "So, you and Dina?" Her head tilts, the smug look gone.

"So uh, you saw that, huh?" Her feet shuffle.

"I did. Was it a one off, or are you taken now?" You cup Ellie's cheek so she keeps her eyes on you.

"It was a one off. I um, I liked it, but her and Jesse are probably getting back together. So um, yeah." Ellie scratches her jaw. You watch her long fingers pick at the skin.

"I'll make you breakfast. Early shift?"

"Sounds- Yeah, sounds great!" Her lips tug upward, but you can tell she's forcing the smile. You press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. Her cheeks are red again.

"See you then cutie," you wink, drop your hand so it slides down her shoulder and bicep, and let her leave flushed.

Ellie comes in as you're working on the breakfast bread. You made her a special loaf to munch on for the road. Behind her is who you assume is the newbie. "Goodmorning ladies," you greet politely. Ellie takes her bread with a wave, running to her horse and Joel.

"Morning," the tall blonde greets. "I'm Abby." You offer your hand, she shakes it firmly.

"Beautiful name for a beautiful girl," you smile. She's taken a back, scoffs.

"Shut up," she turns, but you catch the blush on her cheeks.

"Make me," you challenge. She glares, but says nothing. "Come sit, have something to eat. You must be starving, you got here long after the kitchen closed." You bring her a fresh loaf from the heated stone.

#no men allowed #no minors allowed #abby anderson #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby tlou2 #abby the last of us 2 #abby x reader #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie tlou2 #ellie the last of us 2 #ellabs x reader #ellabs #ellie x reader #from the river to the sea palestine will be free

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stabbyfoxandrew · 2 months ago

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arson neil plsss🙏

WIP Wednesday (2/12) | Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew AU (Part 279)

Soup is doled out in huge bowls and Andrew receives a piece of bread bigger than his fist to eat with it. He knows it's homemade, because Jean is just the sort of man who casually bakes bread in his limited spare time. It's calming. Or soothing. A couple years ago when he first learned the craft, Kevin had brought over a couple of loaves of bread to Andrew's place saying they were up to their elbows in it. And that continued for a while. But like all good things, it came to an end.

Since Jean doesn't need calmed and soothed as frequently anymore— rather, since Jeremy and Kevin do a better job at it than punching dough does— Andrew doesn't get good bread anymore. What a shame.

Andrew's barely dipped his spoon into his bowl when he realizes the others are staring at him. How had he not realized they'd oriented the seats around the table so it was the three of them all facing Andrew? He feels like he's about to be interrogated or perhaps this was secretly an intervention. He doesn't ask, just starts to eat. He'll be damned if he lets his food get cold because Kevin and his league of idiots is nosy.

"What does he look like?" Jeremy asks, finally breaking the silence that had fallen across the table. Jean gives him a look and Kevin laughs under his breath. "What? We're gonna find out sometime, might as well get that one out of the way."

"He's taller than me—"

"Wow." Jean says, not impressed.

Jeremy elbows him. "What else?"

"He has brown hair and blue eyes." Andrew says with a shrug as if it's not important. Sure, 10's hair is auburn and curly and longer in the back and he would like to push his fingers into it. But they don't need all the details. Andrew also leaves out the freckles and the scars and the slightly-too-sharp canines he'd run his tongue over last night.

"That's it?" Jeremy looks disappointed.

"Why does it matter?"

"Because you like him," Kevin says as if he's accusing Andrew of something terrible. "You don't like people."

"Correct. But he is not people. He lives in my phone."

"Until last night." Kevin says under his breath. He doesn't seem his usual self and Andrew would almost think he was feeling some tragically misplaced jealously if they were two different people. Andrew ignores him to eat his soup and it really is his favorite. It tastes homey, like a childhood he never had.

He doesn't get to eat it in peace, though. No.

With the floodgates open, Andrew finds himself on the receiving end of a zillion questions. Jean stays mostly quiet, but Kevin and Jeremy are relentless. It was an interrogation after all. So he tells them about 10 in between bites, revealing some stupid simple things he doesn't mind to share. Nothing about 10's life on the run, nothing about his current hobby. Just the basics.

But they don't seem to be enough. Not for Kevin, anyway.

"What is his name?" Kevin asks. And Andrew blinks at him.

"I didn't answer that the first time you asked, why would I now?"

"Because we've plied you with your favorite soup and you want to tell us."

"Soup is not truth serum and you're no hypnotist."

"I'll figure it out somehow."

"You'd have to waterboard me."

#WIP Wednesday #Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew #🕊️#answered #anon

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mogruith · 4 months ago

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Chapter VI - Minthara’s Yuletide Reckoning

His face a skull beneath the folds, eyes hollow, dark, and cold— a whisper from the edge of death, with secrets ages old.

Withers reached out his bony hand, and Minthara followed suit. They stepped into her future’s shade, a vision stark and brute.

She saw herself, long cold and dead, her armour picked for gold, as looting goblins mocked her life, now safe from her stronghold.

"She was a terror, harsh and fierce," they laughed and shook their heads; “she made no friends, no bonds in life, just fear and mounting dread.”

To look upon her solemn face, one might well think her deeply stirred, A glimpse of doubt upon her brow, her heart perhaps deterred.

It seemed her gaze grew softened now, as though she'd come to see, that strength alone, without a bond, might truly end in misery.

With visions of her future clear, Minthara felt embolden; and so she turned, with lessons learned, her heart finally wide open.

She called her goblins to the hall, a feast spread wide and grand - A Yuletide bounty, rich and full, set out by her command.

There lay platters heaped with roasted game, with pies and cider poured. Huge hams glazed thick, and golden loaves, and meat pies richly stored.

Jugs of wine and sugared fruits, a spread both fine and rare. Each dish a treat, each plate a prize, beyond what goblins dare.

“Eat well!” she called, her tone sincere, her voice filled with merry cheer, “A happy Yuletide, one and all! Enjoy your feasting here!”

The goblins cheered and tucked right in, grotesque and loud they ate; with gnashing teeth and slobbering lips, they gorged on every plate.

But as they dined, their cheers grew faint, each goblin slowed and sighed. One by one they slumped and fell, as Minthara watched them die.

For every dish was laced with death, each bite a poisoned curse - A Yuletide feast, to end their lives, and leave her halls dispersed.

Minthara laughed, her goblins gone, her eyes as dead as bone, “This Yuletide feast has shown me well - I’m better off alone.

To all who’d dare to scavenge mine, consider yourselves done; for strength is found in solitude - Gods curse you, every one!”

Source: Larian Advent Calendar - Day 12

See the previous chapters:

Chapter I - A Bitter Eve Indeed

Chapter II - Let the Spirits Com

Chapter III - Memories Ser

Chapter IV - Bearer of a Solemn War

Chapter V - An Appeal to Her Present Nature

#lmao brilliant ending #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #minthara baenre #minthara #bg3 #larian #larian studios #amelia tyler #larian advent calendar #larian advent calendar spoilers

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mikashisus · 9 months ago

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CONGRATS ON 200!!!🎉🎉🎉 Oh my gosh yay that's so exciting!! I am very nervous to make a rq but I rlly like your writing hehehe...

Could you maybe write something with Kazuha and a fem reader from Mondstadt? I wish I could pull something a little more specific to ask for, but I was so excited I wanted to send something in right away >< . More than anything I just wanna see him a little more in your writing <3

Memory Weaver

summary: amidst the festivities for the annual north winds celebration, kazuha stumbles upon a knight who, although sharing a dance with him, seems to be way more important than she’s leading him to believe.

pairing: kaedehara kazuha x fem!mondstadt!reader

cws: brief mentions of starvation and misogyny.

notes: ANON ILY FOR THIS, i literally write mond mcs sm it’s a crime. i took LOTS of creative liberties with this - namely taking inspo from my current genshin series that u can find here!

i have a kazu fic planned in that au already, so i decided to go with the same au here!! except the mc here is way different from the mc in leaving london. hope u enjoy!!

wc: 3.3k

The ports of Eastern Mondstadt were as lively as ever despite the sheer cold weather that hovered over the land like a blanket.

Through the winding streets lined with vendors and huge crowds, a white haired man kept a firm grip on the sword sheathed at his side. He shivered a little as a biting wind rushed past. He was not used to this weather. Not after being out on the warm, rocky seas for so long.

A group of children nearby shouted in joy as they played together, one of them holding two Mondstadt hashbrowns in their hand. They waved the food around, signaling for the others to gather around so they could all share.

“Look! That kind man gave me these for free since today is the Festival of the North Winds!”

“It’s the whole week, genius!” Another kid retorted before munching down on their piece of a hashbrown.

“Does it matter? Let’s just eat!”

Before the children could fully dig in to their meal, a cheerful voice interrupted them. Kazuha stayed to watch the interaction, pretending to shop for goods at a vendor stall nearby as to not appear suspicious to the knight that had just arrived.

He watched as the knight ruffled the kid’s hair. She sent them all a big, warm smile as they looked up at her in awe and wonder. Their eyes were practically sparkling.

“Make sure you say your prayers first!” You scolded the children, placing your hands on your hips. “If you don’t give the Queen your prayers, then she might be unhappy and curse us!”

One of the kids, a girl smaller than the rest of the group, pointed at you accusingly. “No she won’t! My Mama says that Queen Catalina is a righteous, gentle god! And that she never harms anyone!”

A loud, hearty laugh escaped your mouth as you held your stomach. “Right you are!” Your laughs, which were akin to a melody on the wind, simmered into giggles.

“So we should be grateful for all that we have because of how kind Her Majesty is. That’s why we pray— because we are returning the kindness and love that she so graciously shows us. Do you understand?”

The children were silent for a few moments, mulling over your words, before they all let out gasps of astonishment. Without another moment of hesitation, they were clasping their hands together and quietly saying their prayers to the ever generous Queen of the North Wind.

As soon as they were done, you pulled something out of the bag tied to your belt. It was fresh bread you bought earlier that morning. You split the two long loaves into pieces and gave them to the children, a soft smile playing on your lips as they thanked you eagerly.

“Make sure to share with your families, okay? We need to feed as many mouths as we can this winter.” You told them, watching as they nodded vigorously and ran off, shouting their goodbyes back to you as they did so.

Kazuha smiled before turning away from the scene, tilting his head down to avoid the intense stare tossed in his direction.

He found it quite difficult to navigate through the city because of the current festivities. According to bits and pieces of conversations he picked up from the locals, an annual festival was taking place solely on this side of Mondstadt.

The land was divided between three gods. To the far West laid Decarabian and his sheltered city that was slowly but surely becoming larger by the year. He was rumored to be a tyrannical god, who refused to let his people wander past the wind barriers he created around his territory.

To the North rested the god of blizzards, Andrius— a Wolf King with an extreme temper. Supposedly, the land of Mondstadt was mostly uninhabitable because of him. He was not fond of humans, nor did he get along well with them. He preferred to stay in his patch of land and not cause them any harm, and they did the same by not wandering into his territory. It was a mutual agreement.

And of course, here in the East sat the magnificent Queen of the North Wind. Ruling over this part of Mondstadt for thousands of years, she was incredibly favored and adored by the people. Her kingdom was quite large, taking up almost the entirety of the oceanside and the mountains that separated the East and West sides of the region.

Unlike Decarabian, she was on somewhat good terms with Andrius. Their common enemy being the god of storms was what brought them together as allies. The forming of their peace treaty was what eventually birthed her title of “The Queen of the North Wind.” It was a title that matched Andrius’ “King of the North Wind.”

The Festival of the North Winds was supposedly created more than a hundred years ago in honor of Queen Catalina, Wolf King Andrius, and the Thousand Winds of Time. It is a week-long festival that not only worshipped the three gods, but was made to thank them for their continuous guidance and protection over Mondstadt.

Last year, the festival had to be cancelled due to a small dispute between Morax, a warrior god from Liyue, and Queen Catalina. The dispute, according to rumors, had been resolved pretty quickly, but due to the fear it had invoked in the people, the Queen deemed it necessary that the festival should not continue.

Kazuha noticed that the streets closer to the castle were more lively, and filled with more color. The crowds were bigger, and the city square was packed to the brim.

He remembered Beidou’s words from earlier that morning: “Go have some fun! This festival is only once a year, and who knows when we’ll be back in Mondstadt for another! Make the most of it, kid!”

There was no curfew— he could return to The Alcor whenever he wanted. As he was debating on whether or not he should return early, a great commotion drew him from his thoughts.

A gathering of knights grabbed the attention of the bustling crowds, politely asking everyone to stop and hear the words of their great Queen. A woman with curly teal hair and eyes bright as starlight gracefully descended the stairs, her bronze skin glowing under the sun and her hands clasping together neatly in front of her.

That was her— the infamous Queen of the North Wind, standing on the steps leading up to the castle.

Kazuha stopped in his tracks, his mouth falling open in shock. He was so close, he could make out each of her facial features, even the small mole on her left cheekbone, and he could recognize that the dazzling gem sitting around her neck was a diamond shaped like an eight-pointed star.

He doubted anyone standing where he had been moments ago could see her this well. He watched as she picked up the bottom of her sparkling, white gown and was helped onto a platform by her lover.

Her radiant smile was enough to dispel any worries the townsfolk harbored, and brought hope to those that had none. She cleared her throat, and with a voice as smooth as liquid gold, spoke with a certain eloquence that only a god could possess.

“My children, it is yet another year that the Thousand Winds bless us with their protection. If not for the protection of the goddess of moments, we would not be able to live our lives freely outside the rule of Celestia.”

Her ability to captivate an entire audience was to be admired. They hung onto her every word, and not a single person dared to interrupt her speech.

“Someday, you will live freely from the gods entirely. But until that day comes, I will stand with you, and continue to fight for that freedom and that future! I will continue to record these moments in my memories for future generations, so that they may understand the past to create a brighter future! With that said, we praise the Thousand Winds! Enjoy this festival, my children, and let these Winds endure for all Time!”

As she finished speaking, the crowd erupted into ear-piercing cheers. All around him, the people were celebrating, kicking off the festival with a bang as they downed barrels of alcohol and tossed confetti and cecilias into the air.

Kazuha watched with a newfound intrigue as the Queen stepped down from the platform and joined the festivities. Had he not seen it with his own eyes, he would have never believed that a god would mingle with mortals like this.

His eyes drifted to the knight that accompanied the Queen’s side, and his eyes widened once more as he recognized them as the knight he had seen earlier— the one who had given extra food to the group of overjoyed children.

You helped the Queen down from her platform and smiled graciously. “Amazing as always, Your Highness,” you said, letting her hand go as she placed it on your head. “Would you like me to fetch you a glass of Thousand Wind Wine?”

She shook her head. “Just enjoy the festivities, my dear Dovewing Knight. You work all year long, please just take a break for once. I’ll still be here when you return to the castle tonight.”

With a retort on your tongue, she grabbed your shoulders and walked you down the rest of the stairs, gently pushing you towards the crowds. “Have fun! I have Lowen here to protect me.”

You tossed an uneasy glance to the other three knights waiting eagerly for you with smiles on their faces. Turning back to the look at the Queen, you opened your mouth to protest once more, when your best friend, Yvaine, leapt towards you and grabbed your arm.

“C’mon! This happens once a year, (Name)! The only week we have off!” She yelled over the booming music in the square. “Let’s ditch our armor and go have fun like Her Majesty said!”

“But, we’re her Archangels, we can’t—“

“Let it go!” Hunter chuckled, patting you on the back. The force of his hand hitting your shoulder made you toss a glare at him. He simply laughed. “Like she said, she won’t be going anywhere!”

You watched as your three fellow Archangel Knights removed their armor and handed it off to the Queen, who promised it wouldn’t get stolen during the festivities.

With a final groan of frustration escaping your lips, you did the same and followed your friends into the crowds. Yvaine linked her arm with yours and pointed to a dress shop. She jumped up and down, claiming the two of you needed to wear something fancy for the event.

As you flipped through a variety of handmade Mondstadt dresses, you couldn’t find one that caught your eye. Yvaine was able to find one in just a few minutes of entering the shop.

It was a short, orange dress that complimented her yellow-brown skin and amber colored eyes. The sleeves were billowy, allowing her arms room to breathe, and reached her elbows. She tied her curly, dark brown locks up into a ponytail and helped you pick out your own dress as soon as she paid for hers.

“Why not match the Queen and go for a white dress?” She suggested.

With careful deliberation— and a desire to join the festivities already —you picked out a long white, off shoulder dress and paid for it before leaving the shop.

Yvaine giggled as she dragged you around to all of the food stalls. She was more than happy to pay for your food, even if you scolded her for doing so every time.

You spent most of the first day of the festival with your best friend, who promised you that this year would be the best Festival of the North Winds that Mondstadt had ever thrown. Having only been appointed as the Queen’s elite Archangel Knights two years prior, you weren’t used to having free time like this anymore.

Being able to run around and enjoy the festival like you did in your youth brought back many memories of when you would spend this time of the year with your family. Silently, you thanked the Queen for allowing you to remember those memories, and for letting you have this week off to make the most of the festival.

Nighttime came fast, and with it, came dancing in the city square. The sun was setting over the horizon when the music picked up into a tune that made everyone want to dance.

It started with just a few people clearing the way, laughing and moving as if they were being carried along by the wind. Soon, the Queen and her lover, Lowen, joined in. The crowds cheered and threw out their praises as the two gods took the stage.

It was a magnificent sight— being able to watch the Queen twirl and flow as if she was one with the wind; as if it was guiding her along. After a few songs, she took a seat at a nearby table and ordered a few glasses of wine to enjoy as she laughed merrily and cheered on the other people who continued dancing in her stead.

Yvaine was the next to join the circle, dragging you in along behind her. The two of you, with much dancing experience, weaved your way between a multitude of couples and eventually lost sight of each other as others asked to switch dance partners.

A man with white hair ended up in front of you as the song ended, his face flushed as he panted heavily. The hand on your waist fidgeted before it pulled back slightly. He smiled gently at you, his crimson eyes welcoming and bright as he let go of your hand.

“You’re a wonderful dancer,” he told you as you took a step away from him to create space between you. “Pardon me if this sounds a little odd, but I was watching you before I got pulled in by the crowd myself. It was like watching flowing water in a stream.”

A small chuckle left your lips. “Poetic, though a little bland for my tastes. If you’re looking for compliments, I suggest you familiarize yourself with Mondstadt’s style of poetic charms.”

He raised a brow. “Oh? Is it that obvious I don’t hail from Mondstadt?”

“A little…” you trailed off as another song started, a slower tune this time, and he once again rested a delicate hand to your waist. You glanced down at the sword hanging from his hip. It wasn’t just any sword— it was a special Inazuman forged blade.

“That katana. It’s Inazuman. Handmade, correct?” You pointed out, searching his crimson eyes. He met your gaze with a small, almost fake, smile.

What was that about?

“You are correct. I would ask how you know, but you are a knight, are you not?”

You nodded. “Indeed.” He twirled you under his arm and you sighed blissfully, grabbing onto his hand once more as he pulled you back into his embrace. “I am one of Queen Catalina’s Four Archangels. It’s a pleasure to meet you, samurai of Inazuma.”

His crimson eyes flashed with recognition. He faltered in his steps a little, quickly recovering himself when you steadied him with little effort.

This could go one of two ways, you deduced.

On one hand, he could freak out and blubber his way through some sort of half-baked eloquent greeting and drop to his knees like half the citizens of Mondstadt did whenever you conversed with them. On the other, his brows could furrow with confusion and he’d give you a once over before questioning if your words were true.

No one ever expected someone like you to be one of the Queen’s elite soldiers. Whether it was because you were a woman or because you simply weren’t built like a knight, you didn’t know. You were more inclined to believe that it was the latter.

Though, you did receive a handful of comments from many people when you were first appointed about your gender. Most of them you ignored, because they were so downright stupid that it made you laugh. Others, you had half a mind to throw them in the dingiest cell in the dungeons for their incredibly disrespectful words. If the Queen had known of those insults, you were sure she would have personally sentenced them to death for their arrogance.

None of the two options you often encountered came to fruition. Instead, his reaction was an entirely different one altogether. You were not expecting him to treat you as if you were any other human being.

“You’re one of them? An honor, then, it is to meet you.” He said, his words flowing like honey from his mouth.

A poet was one who could charm their way into others’ hearts using their flowery language. You were more than familiar with poets— more so of the Mondstadt and Liyuean variety. Mondstadt poets oftentimes happened to be bards as well. They used their songs to tell stories of you and your friends’ adventures.

Almost all of them used their talents to charm their way into your good graces so as to avoid the law. However, their use of compliments and fine verses had no effect on you. As a knight, you swore an oath to protect innocents and keep everyone on equal standing in your mind. You could not let anyone get close, for fear of one day being the one to throw them into a cell.

Yvaine and the other two Archangels were special cases, though you knew that if they one day also betrayed the Queen, you would raise your sword against them without hesitation.

Letting go of your hand to take your other, the man watched as your expression soured. “Flattery will not get you anywhere with me, but I thank you for your cordiality nonetheless.”

The song ended, and the man let go of you as you stepped away from him. You sent him a polite smile. “Allow me to buy you some festival specialties. After all, this only happens once a year.”

He returned your smile and nodded. “That’d be wonderful, Miss…?”

“Oh! Right. How could I forget my greeting?” You stood ramrod straight and saluted him, the action coming naturally to you after doing it hundreds of times.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, foreigner to the Northern Winds. I, (Name) the Dovewing Knight and one of the Four Archangels of the god of memories, cordially welcome you to Mondstadt.”

He nodded curtly, bowing slightly as he placed a hand to his chest. “Thank you for the warm welcome, Lady (Name). I am Kaedehara Kazuha, a wandering samurai from Inazuma.”

You sighed softly as you relaxed your form. “Kazuha…” you tested the name on your tongue, finding it easy to flow out of your mouth. You hummed and nodded. “Well, Kazuha. Allow me to be your guide. What say you to spending this week with me?”

As a knight, it was your job to guide those new to Mondstadt and help them settle in. You weren’t sure how long Kazuha would be staying here, but you were determined to show him the joys of what it was like to live in Mondstadt during the festival season.

At least, that was the lie you told yourself to prevent your heart from continuing to race in your chest.

Kazuha’s smile was genuine this time as he visibly relaxed. “If a beautiful knight such as yourself is offering, then who am I to refuse you?”

Maybe it was the trick of the light, the glaring sun beating down on his face from over the horizon, but you could have sworn you saw a hint of red on his cheeks as he took your outstretched hand and stepped into a world completely unknown.

notes: i did not plan for it to be this long… it was going to be longer but i cut it short. if anyone would like a part 2, i’d be happy to make one! you can read more on catalina here! apologies for any errors, i didn’t edit the last half of this 🙏

#— ( 🥂 200 event. mikashisus. )#dividers: cafekitsune #genshin impact #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha #kazuha x reader #genshin kazuha #kazuha x you #genshin #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kazuha x y/n #kaedehara kazuha x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #—mikashisus works .ᐟ

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