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[gloomiebearwritings]

Hi! May I please ask if requests are open?

The requests are still open! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

[gloomiebearwritings]

[OC X CANON APPRECIATION POST! 🩷✨]

REBLOG IF YOU LOVE AND SUPPORT OC X CANON!!

[gloomiebearwritings]

Okay but could I have a few crumbs of Doc on vacation? He's at a beach-cliche but listen-no shirt or one of those silly hawaiian shirts (more preferably shirtless), he's goin on about how important sun screen is and offers to help his boo, then hes in the water and his hair is wet he's smiling he's happy I mean PLEASE

He deserves to be happy!!!!

"A vacation?" Gustave sounds skeptical as Sam watches him from across the desk, "There is still so much for us to-"

"For them to do," Sam cuts him off with a raised hand, "Wolfguard can handle themselves. You need to be away from this place."

Gustave sputters indignantly at the idea- he's a team player, he doesn't want Wolfguard to go into the field without him. But Sam is insistent, an unmovable object with all the stubbornness that comes with that many decades in the field.

So Gustave is given the boot and he heads home to you with two free weeks on the horizon, courtesy of the fact that he hasn't used a single vacation day in years.

You're surprised when he walks in the door. He's never home this early. Part of you panics that something bad has happened, but he offers you a small smile as he places his bags on the counter.

"Sam insisted I take a break," he pulls out his phone and punches in a website that displays flights, "How does Hawaii sound?"

--

You can't remember the last time you saw Gustave unwind. The burden of the Nighthaven situation. The loss of Harry and the re-emergence of Gerald Morris. He'd carried the weight of the world on his shoulders for what felt like months.

Maybe it was.

But now, here on the beach, he looks like a different man. He's shirtless, leaned back on a towel in the sand. His hair hangs down onto his sun-kissed forehead, and his eyes are closed contentedly.

"Relaxation looks good on you," you nudge him with your shoulder and he hums with a broad smile.

"Have you got your sunscreen on?" sometimes, it's hard to turn 'doctor mode' off.

"No," you answer simply and he tuts in disapproval.

"Here," he motions for you to scoot closer and he dispenses some sunscreen into his broad hand, "It's important to wear it, ma cherie."

"I know, I know," you roll your eyes animatedly and he chuckles.

Gustave runs his hand along your shoulders, then your middle back. He uses the momentary closeness to kiss your neck and you chastise him with a playful swat.

"Hard to resist," he murmurs before patting your back to let you know he's finished.

Out in front of you, the ocean rolls in gentle waves, the water creeping up onto the sand with each one. Gustave's eyes are glittering as he stares out at the vast, unending blue.

"I think I hear it calling your name," you say in mock sing-song and his eyes crinkle at the corners as he grins.

Gustave rises to his feet and offers you a hand that you take to stand alongside him. His face is full of a childlike mischief you haven't seen in months, and when he speaks he sounds as if he's ten years younger.

"Race you."

The sand slows you both down, but you keep up with him until you're bounding into the water with him with a laugh. A wave crashes down and a splash of saltwater soaks his hair as he stares at you, his gaze soft.

"What?" you question and he shrugs. His salt and pepper hair is in disarray, but for once he's not pushing it out of his face.

"I love you," he finally offers and you give him a quick, chaste kiss that makes him smile.

Gustave can't remember the last time he truly relaxed. The last time he was able to just enjoy his time with you without the burden of work fairly breaking his back.

"I love you, too."

Maybe Sam is right. Maybe his vacation days don't have to sit, stagnant and piling up. Maybe Wolfguard is fine in someone else's hands when he can't be there.

Maybe it's what you both deserve.

[gloomiebearwritings]

The knife/blood play with Doc was rlly good, would u be willing to make a part 2 or maybe Doc doing something else (impact or perhaps bondage)?

OH WE ARE SO BACK-

Pairing: Doc x F!Reader Warnings: Oh boy! Bondage, knifeplay, a lil slap here and there. Doc being a condescending jackoff lol. I blacked out when I wrote this and when I came to there were so many horny words on the page. Just a blatant display of my mental illness projected onto a screen. I had to put like the ENTIRETY of this under a cut because it's VERY NSFW lol.

Your legs are shaking and you feel as if your chest is going to explode from the way your heart hammers away at your ribcage. Gustave has your ankles bound to the legs of the chair, effectively keeping your legs splayed wide for him.

He stalks around the chair and you watch with apprehension as the light glints off of the blade he clutches in his hand. You teeter on the razor edge between scared and unbearably aroused, your mind in a white hot haze.

This isn't the first time the two of you have done something like this, but the bindings are new.

"Are you afraid?" Gustave whispers as he drags the blunt end of the knife along your shoulder. You tremble slightly and he grins, shark-like.

When you don't answer, he chuckles and kneels in front of you, his dark eyes shining in the overhead light. Slowly, he brings his mouth between your legs and you whimper as his breath fans over the tender skin of your inner thighs.

"Let me help you find your voice," Gustave purrs. He runs his tongue along your already soaked slit and pauses to suck gently at your clit.

You moan his name and he grins against you before adding a finger that makes you see bright white. You're too lost in his motions between your legs to notice when he raises the knife to your upper thigh. A quick cut makes you cry out in earnest as the blood spills down your leg and onto the chair.

Gustave looks up at you with punch drunk and hazy eyes; he moves from your pussy to the wound and runs his flattened tongue over it, collecting the blood before groaning and closing his eyes as he swallows.

You watch with your breath trapped in your chest as his throat bobs. The sharp pain fades to a dull ache as he returns mouth to between your legs. You try to buck against him and he tuts in disapproval before taking a nip at your clit that makes you yelp.

Gustave is torturing you on purpose, letting you come to the cusp of release before backing off. It's enough to drive you mad, but you won't give him the satisfaction of begging.

You whine pathetically when he pulls away just as you're about to topple over the edge and you swear under your breath.

"Such a dirty mouth," he says, rather condescendingly, "Maybe I'll keep you here for a few hours, hm?"

You don't answer and his broad hand connects with your cheek, just hard enough to shock you into a startled cry that makes him smirk. He waits for the safe word, wonders if he's crossed a line, but you don't give it.

"You liked that, didn't you?" Gustave tilts your chin up with the flat side of the knife and you nod wordlessly, "Use your words, ma cherie."

"Yes," you choke out the word and he takes the knife from your neck and moves it to your sternum.

The next cut is deeper and you cry out through gritted teeth as he returns his hand to your aching pussy. Warm blood spills down your chest and to your stomach as he pumps his fingers inside you.

"Should I let you cum?" he murmurs and your defiance washes away as if it's slipped the rung of the ladder it was climbing.

"Please," your lip quivers and he offers you a mock pout as he lowers his mouth to your pussy once more.

This time he eats like a man starved until he feels you clench around his fingers. You throw your head back and moan, which keeps your eyes off the blade that he brings to your other thigh. The final cut is deeper than he intended and you let out a genuine scream when the blade drags across your skin.

Gustave looks up with his brows knit low over his eyes in concern. He's sure he's crossed a line, but when your gaze finds his, you don't offer the safe word. Instead, you pull your lip between your teeth and he feels a jolt go straight to his cock.

He runs the flat side of the knife across the cut, collecting the bright crimson blood on the steel. He brings it to your mouth, the shining metal glinting as he hovers it there.

"Clean it," Gustave's voice is thick as he stands and watches expectantly.

You hesitate, and once again his hand connects with your face. You whimper and extend your tongue, running it along the blunt side of the knife until the blood pools on your tongue. He waits until you swallow and then smiles devilishly.

"Good girl."

His cock is aching as he watches you swallow. He wants so badly to cut the ropes and bend you over the chair. To fuck you until you're begging for mercy.

But the cuts need attention, and he can wait.

Gustave moves to deftly slice the ropes that hold your ankles, then your wrists. He runs his fingers soothingly over the marks left behind and you lean into him, sighing contentedly. He kisses the crown of your head before pulling away and finding the towel he has stashed away.

Carefully, he mops the blood from the wounds until the towel is stained red. He grimaces at the most recent one, silently admonishing himself for his carelessness.

"Are you alright?" he murmurs as he dabs at the cut until it stops bleeding.

You nod and he moves his hand up to stroke your face where he struck it earlier. He finds your gaze and cocks his head, as if to ask 'are you sure?'

"I'm fine, I promise," you smile weakly and he seems content, tossing the towel aside in favor of cupping your chin with his other hand.

"You did well, ma cherie," he smiles warmly, such a swift departure from the man he was just moments ago. His ability to switch in an instant never ceases to amaze you.

Gustave swipes his thumb across your lower lip then kisses you, soft and loving. He worries, even when you don't use the safe word- worries that he's crossed a line or overstepped a boundary. He doesn't want to hurt you, not genuinely anyway.

"I love you," he is sure to hold your gaze as he says it, still searching for a sign that he's done wrong.

"I love you, too."

You smile and he's satisfied.

[gloomiebearwritings]

hii!! i hope all is well on your end :) its the shigeki anon again. those hcs you wrote were absolutely wonderful!! you write him so well ❤️❤️ i hope you dont mind me dropping by with another rq for him. maybe a fluffy lil something featuring sleepy morning cuddles? remember to stay hydrated and take care of yourself!!

Sorry this took me a bit, I was on a break ❤️❤️❤️

I couldn't help but pop off a little and added a little extra for ya! Hope you enjoy! ❤️❤️❤️

CW: None, pure fluff

Word count: 692

Birkin rolled over to look at the time, five in the morning, the sky barely blue. He let out a soft sigh as he settled back down under the covers, looking at your sleeping face.

You were so cute when you slept- he could lay there for hours just watching you sleep.

Carefully he brought his hand to your waist, bringing you closer to him. You stirred lightly as he kissed your forehead, getting a small chuckle out of him as you reached up and curled your arm around his waist.

Sometimes it still surprised him that you wanted him- that you still want him. The way you snuggled up to him made him melt, reminded him of what it was to be just him. No worrying about the day, no worrying about what he’d have to do later on- just the two of you warm and safe. Gently he traced small circles on your back, watching your eyebrows furrow and hearing you mumble. “I know it’s early, babe- but we should try to get a head-start…” 

When you stretched out and started to open your eyes he pulled you as close as he could, giving you a firm kiss on your forehead. And when you sleepily asked for a few more minutes he chuckled, “No, no you’ll fall back to sleep on me.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle more as you opened one eye to glare at him, giving your side a little pinch just to make you squirm. Followed by giving you kisses until you were laughing and kicking your legs, only stopping when you promised you’d get up too.

With one last kiss to your cheek he sat up and ran a hand over his hair, “I’ll get that fence finished today…” he said mostly to himself.

He swore he’d finished that thing sooner, but he ran out of paint and you both forgot to get more. Not that it really mattered, you didn’t exactly live the closest to others to really need a little white fence- but he promised you a little white fence and a nice little house. And he was going to keep that promise.

After lugging himself out of bed and throwing on an old white tank-top and his boots. Laundry had to be done so it didn’t matter if he got dirt and paint on himself, he could just take a shower before he had to do his “job” later. And besides, it’s not like anyone else could see his tattoos besides you, the ones you love to trace so much when you two are in bed or on the couch.

Once you were up and about the house you could see him working in the front- he just about had the fence done, him having to almost constantly push his hair out of his face, his grey hair standing out in the morning sun.

Sometimes it was still a shock that he trusted you to see his face so often, but he had to admit it was one of the most treasured feelings when you’d trace the scars.

As the morning drew on though he still hadn’t come inside- peeking out the window you spotted him clearing up a portion of the yard he was going to have some plants you two could harvest from later on considering getting to the store was more of a chore than anything.

Sometimes you wondered if his “job” was slowing down, but he promised you it was just that he sometimes didn’t know what to do with himself if he wasn’t working- so slowly perfecting your home was his best method of staying busy in between his hours. 

When he finally came back inside he let out a little huff, “Sometimes I forget I’m not as young as I used to be.” he laughed to himself.

Though before he ran off for the bath he grabbed your arm over the counter, pulling you a little closer, “I’m gonna get a shower and head out, alright?” he said softly, “Promise I’ll be back by dinner though, and if by chance I’m not you can kick my ass.”

[gloomiebearwritings]

my beloved writers, here's a daily reminder that your writing is never ever trash or bad as long as you have fun writing it. go wild and have fun. there're someone out there who will love and cherish those words you wrote. ♡

[gloomiebearwritings]

Makarov with a baby is cool, but I wanna read the fic where they MADE the baby 👀

Oh you're so right let's do it 🤌 F!Reader, mentions of getting PREGNANT, obviously.

Nothing gets Makarov's blood pumping like a close call.

Nolan is in the seat next to him, breaths coming in short, pained, waves as he clutches at the wound in his leg. Blood spills past his fingers in thick crimson rivulets, sliding down the fabric of his fatigues and to the leather of the seat beneath him.

Nolan will be fine, it's not his first rodeo; Makarov is sporting his own bullet wound, a clean shot through his upper arm that aches and throbs with each uneven piece of the road.

The rest of the trip is a blur, through rain-soaked streets and to the safehouse where a doctor held at gunpoint meticulously tends to their wounds, too scared to have an errant slip and get their brains blown out.

Sporting fresh stitches and a heart still thundering in his skull, Makarov pushes through the front door and kicks his boots off, ears straining against the thrum of his own blood to listen for your presence.

He calls for you in the darkness, knowing you're likely in bed by now; long gone are the days when you would wait up wringing your hands in his absence.

Makarov moves to the stairs, heavy footfalls carrying him up to your shared bedroom where he finds you curled up under the thick comforter. The moonlight glints off of your skin as your chest rises and falls gently.

"Любовь моя," he nudges you gently, stubbled mouth finding your ear, "I'm home."

"V!" You throw your arms around him and he chuckles, "oh my god, what happened?"

Your eyes are wide as you rake them over his bloodied shirt and the bullet hole in the fabric. You pass your hand over the frayed edges and he catches it in his own, bringing his mouth to dust gently over your knuckles.

"I'm fine," he murmurs, lips ghosting over your skin as he speaks, "but I missed you."

Makarov's mouth is on yours in a heartbeat, his tongue pushing past your lips to tangle with your own. His heart is still hammering, though for different reasons now, pulse thrumming in his ears.

A brush with death makes him desperate, wild and hungry for you; he needs to feel you, to be inside of you to keep himself grounded.

His hands move down your body to lift your shirt over your head, tossing it carelessly to the floor near the bed. Makarov takes his lip in his teeth at the sight of you, causing your cheeks to warm under his hungry gaze.

Slowly, so agonizingly slowly, he kisses his way down your stomach and to the waistband of your pajama pants. He tugs them down and off of you before discarding them next to your shirt.

Makarov's arm aches, but he ignores it as he lifts your legs up over his shoulders. You let out a tired whimper as he flattens his tongue and runs it over your clit, as if you are the most delicious thing he's ever tasted.

"V-" you whine out the nickname and he chuckles against your skin before pushing a finger inside you.

You buck against him and he slings an arm across your midriff to pin you in place. His dark eyes meet yours and they crinkle at the corners, giving away his devious grin.

Makarov wants to break you apart, to have you come undone over and over. He gets like that when he comes to to toe with death. He needs to hear you cry his name and beg him to relent before he gives you any mercy.

His finger curls inside you and you let out a pathetic moan as he finds a rhythm with his tongue that sets your mind ablaze. He loosens his grip on your middle and instead moves his hand up to your breasts, rough fingers rolling your one of your nipples between them.

"V, please-" you don't even know what you're begging for, your mind feels like a live wire draped into a puddle of water.

Makarov pauses and then sucks gently on your clit; the motion makes you cry out in earnest and he does it again before adding a second finger inside you.

Your heart fairly hammers in your chest as the pressure builds between your legs, threatening to overtake you. Everything feels overwhelming, unbearable, white hot. You finally hit your limit and thread your fingers into his hair as you grind up against his mouth with a choked sob.

He lets you ride out your high, grinning against your pussy until your legs shake on either side of his head. He gives you a moment to recover, then his tongue is back on you. You gasp, already so overstimulated that it's painful, and grip his hair tightly. You jerk his head up and his eyes find yours- he looks drunk, his eyes heavy lidded and his mouth upticked in a lopsided smile.

"Let me do this," Makarov whispers, "please."

He needs this just as much as you do.

You release his hair and he returns to work. Again and again he makes you come undone entirely until you can think of nothing. Your mind is a scorched forest, and he's the one holding the match.

He knows when you can take no more by the way your legs clamp onto his head and your voice is shrill, cracking in the quiet room. He's satisfied then and pulls away, his mouth still gleaming with your wetness as he shucks his shirt, then his pants.

All you can do is watch, dazed, as he wraps your legs around his waist and then slips inside you. You stare up at him, cockdumb and hazy, and he runs his thumb along your bottom lip. You open your mouth and he puts the digit inside; he groans when you run your tongue along it.

Makarov's first thrust has you seeing stars, clinging to his broad shoulders as he fucks you. Another thrust and you feel like you're gasping for air.

"You can take it," he murmurs. You're not sure you can, "So pretty when you're taking me."

You swallow thickly and look up at him with your mouth slightly agape, pupils blown out with lust. His thrusts are quicker now, and each one nearly makes you sob. Makarov looks down at you as if you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

You are. He doesn't know how he ever got you to love him, or why you stay. He's a terrible man- a murderer, a bastard. He doesn't deserve a pretty, innocent thing like you.

"V," you whimper and he drops his sweat-soaked forehead to yours with a strangled 'hm?', "I want- I want you to cum inside me. Please."

The request sets his mind into a frenzy and he latches his mouth to yours, tongue forcing its way inside as his thrusts quicken.

"You want that, hm?" he pants when he breaks his mouth from yours, "To fill you up?"

You nod and he grins, his lips brushing against yours again before his next words, "you want me to make you a mother?"

Your eyes meet his and you see the intensity in his gaze. You don't even know what it would be like to have a child with him- how you could possibly make it work with his "work".

Makarov thrusts, hard, and you decide that you'll figure that part out later. You give him a choked off 'yes' that makes him feel as if his chest is going to burst from the way his heart hammers.

His next few thrusts are less measured, more sloppy, until he's cursing under his breath in Russian and you feel warmth bloom inside you. He stays planted there until his cock goes soft and he pulls out, pausing to examine his handiwork as it drips down the curve of your ass in pearlescent rivulets.

Makarov falls into the bed next to you and pulls you in close, letting you rest your head on his chest. You decide that cleanup can wait, right now you're content to melt into his embrace. He kisses your forehead and you hum contentedly.

"You sure you want a baby?" you ask, glancing up at him; he looks pensive, staring off into space in the darkness.

"Do you?" he finally looks down at you and his dark eyes are full of something you can't quite place.

"Maybe. Could you keep us safe?"

Makarov scoffs and knits his brows low over his eyes, "I'd kill anyone who even looked at you wrong."

You know he would. You've never felt unsafe for a moment since you met him, even though you know he's a hunted man.

"Then yes."

[gloomiebearwritings]

Sometimes I feel I'm all washed up, like there's so many writers and artists so far ahead of me that I kinda feel like "what's the point?" y'know?

Like I hope I'm not washed up, that my writing makes someone smile at least once. But only ever seeing my stuff liked and never shared makes me feel defeated, like it gets seen a few times before it's replaced by something else on an endless conveyor belt of grind and hoping you'll be good enough to stick around in someone's head a day longer than the others...

[gloomiebearwritings]

can we get a Dan Smith protecting his S/o We need to see our Hellion in his true state🫠

(´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) Protective Dan-Dan is best! Hope you enjoy!

CW: Mentions of violence, very mild mentions of gore.

Word count: 748

You weren’t supposed to be involved and yet there you were, locked up in your hotel room hoping Dan would get to you before the pair of low life “assassins” did. 

They called themselves assassins, though really all they were doing was toying with you to get a reaction- reminding you that you’re just collateral to them. 

“We’d make it quick anyways! Not like you mean jackshit to us, you’re the one who got with the Smith!” 

“Yeah, this doesn’t have t’be personal! Just happen t’be with the guy who killed our boss!”

You remained silent though, knowing better than to try reasoning with lunatics. Sure Dan could easily be classified as one too, but he was your lunatic wherever he was. He’d be there soon you knew that- but it was best you armed yourself in case those bastards got in first. 

Though there was little to arm yourself with inside the room, and no one would be trying to come help you as they’re all too familiar with Dan. But you didn’t have to think about that for long before the door swung open with a loud crack of it hitting the wall. Much to your luck they didn’t see you grab a loose support bar from the bathroom. 

“Shh. Someone’s coming, shut the damn door.”

You gripped the bar tighter as you heard one of them turn to shut the door as footsteps began rapidly approaching. The door didn’t even get shut, a loud grunt replacing what would’ve been the door slamming. 

One of the pair got knocked back, hitting his head on the edge of the dresser and knocked clean out. The other being in a tussle with this third intruder that ended in a loud bang of a gun and a thud a body hitting the ground. 

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Three extra shots rang out before the floor creaked of someone shifting their weight. 

Surprisingly the first who hit his head was still alive, barely though- raising his head weakly to look around and spotting you before his attention was quickly turned to the third intruder. 

Not even a single word got out of him before his brains decorated the bottom portion of the dresser. 

Gripping the bar as tight as you could as the footsteps got closer to the bathroom doorway.

You swung.

The feeling of someone having grabbed the bar was there instead of the sound of anything being hit. 

“Y/N.” 

It was Dan’s voice, he sounded like nothing you’d heard out of him before. It was guttural, aggressive. 

He pulled you out of the bathroom by the metal bar he still had a grip on, “Hurt?” he asked, practically staring a hole through your head before checking your hands, then arms- you shook your head “no”. His relief was short lived, stuck in anger he rather roughly grabbed your things, stuffing them into the suitcase you had, “We’re leaving.”

You couldn’t really protest, the room was in shambles with two bodies in it. 

Throwing on your jacket and shoes you could see out of the corner of your eyes Dan being suspicious of the bodies. Closely investigating them to make sure they didn’t have anything on them, only satisfied after he gave them a few extra holes.

He said nothing as he practically dragged you down the hall to the stairs, racing down them faster than you could, only stopping a few times to make sure you’re still with him. But before you knew it he flung open the door to the first floor landing and stepped through the doorway without you.

You wanted to be angry but-

Bang!

It sounds like he dropped another person like a fly, which you got to see as soon as you got behind him on the first floor- though you had no time to check if it was just a passerby or a third of Blackburn’s.

Outside the cold night air stung, still only the silence being broken by the pair of hurried footsteps between you two to the car, Dan constantly turning to make sure no one is behind you. It wasn’t until you two reached the car and got in did he finally break the silence. 

“I’m sorry…” 

While he didn’t exactly look at you as he said it, he meant it. The one time he got lax- in his mind it was a failure on his part, an utter failure. 

“Let’s just… take you somewhere else for a bit.”

[gloomiebearwritings]

Reminder: This blog is run by a transmasc, and all writing is meant to be gender neutral regardless of specified gender in asks.

[gloomiebearwritings]

Reiden, Fujin, Erron, Kabal, and Kitana with an s/o that has ADHD?

Sorry if it's too much or it makes you uncomfortable you can decline the request!

Sorry for takin' so long, I went on a break for a bit there! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) I had to leave out Kabal and Kitana as I'm a little rusty still, but I did add Old and Current timeline Raiden! ❤️❤️❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Old Timeline Raiden

ADHD was a new concept to him, at least in terms of being named- but he’s seen a few people before with the same behaviors.

It takes him some time to learn all your little quirks and routines, or lack thereof.

May sometimes become impatient, but always apologizes for his behavior- which over time gets better.

You were asked about by just about everyone, and it seemed to frustrate him more than it did you. Resting off in a room away from everyone else, Raiden takes the brunt of most of everyone’s curiosity for you.

“Y/N needs rest- there is too much going on right now.”

He made sure his voice was stern enough to make his stance clear, “No one is needed that badly right now.”

Though a bit later he catches Johnny going towards your room, stopping him before he gets to the door, “What did I say, Johnny?”

“I was just tryin’ to bring some water!” 

“I will take the water. Go on.”

Current Timeline Raiden

When you first brought it up to him he joked about how Kung Lao must have it too. 

He’s more open to your needs, learning what you need to get things done and feel more comfortable.

Quite patient and understands you’ll have times of being overwhelmed, and tries to help you in those moments.

“Hey, you alright?” he asks you, seeing you utterly spaced out at all the noise. 

When you shake your head “no” he sighs, offering you his hand and giving a reassuring smile. Once he’s got you to your feet he brings you out of sight of everyone else, letting you pick a spot to calm down. 

“Johnny can be a little loud, I know…”

Sitting next to you he uses himself as a comforting barrier between you and the group, “You stay here as long as you need, okay? There’s no rush.”

Fujin

He has a better understanding of it than you’d expect considering his time among humans.

By far the most patient and open about things, offering to help remind you of things.

Will help create routines to help curb bad habits, and steer you away from getting too distracted. 

You felt a gentle nudge on your shoulder, breaking you out of your disconnected daze.

“You seem distracted, did something cross your mind?” 

His voice was sweet, face just as sweet as he leaned over to see yours more. When you shook your head “no” he gave a soft smile, “Overworked yourself? Maybe we should take a minute to refresh you?”

He opened the windows in the room to let fresh air in and brought you something to drink. 

“Have this to start, but let me know if you need anything else…”

Erron

Not the most knowledgeable about the subject, but granted he’s never had to think too hard about things like this before.

Willing to learn however, albeit a little slow when it comes to getting used to new routines.

He will leave little notes around the house for you though, little reminders for things either of you need to do or get. 

He’d left a note on the dining table telling you he’d be home later than usual because he’d be swinging by the market. Which really you didn’t notice until it was almost an hour after he’d normally have been home that it caught your eye. 

Though it seemed like only a minute later he was home, putting things away before coming over to you to give you a friendly little pinch, “Sorry for bein’ out so long…”

Looking at the clock out of curiosity you realize it was 2 hours ahead of when you last looked at it. He chuckled as he realized you must’ve gotten distracted given your mildly confused expression, “Least you didn’t miss me too bad?” he teased.

[gloomiebearwritings]

You know grief, don't you?

A uhhh WIP Wednesday-

It's something I've fixated on for years but only recently started putting together-

The lab was silent save for the clicking of Loid traveling between console to console, and Tagfer’s hooves pacing in a circle around his spot that he rarely left, his quiet labored breathing and sobs acting as the ambience.

“Grief, who else knows grief?” he muttered as he paced, suddenly coming to a halt to stare at Nyx who sat lifeless, “You do…”

He carefully crept closer to Nyx, eyeing the slumped frame to see if it’d move, “You can still remember, can’t you?” he whispered to it.

Loid watched carefully from the bridge above, the memory still repeating in his head- the way Nyx was dropped to the floor lifelessly, utterly empty and unwilling to move after their desires were fulfilled. No one died, they made sure of it.

“Tagfer…” “Shh! Let us be.” 

The four legged beast had no interest in hearing Loid’s concerns, he’d heard enough of everyone else’s yapping except for Nyx’s. They’d remained utterly silent and unspoken for years. He reached out and nudged their knee with one hoof, watching their faceless helmet for any sign of acknowledging him.

“Come on… you know grief, don’t you? Flament.”

Their head shot up as they became upright, grabbing Tager’s shoulder firmly- though their grip on his shoulder quickly released as they returned to being slumped. The memory never left, they merely silenced themselves. 

“Does it change anything?” 

Their voice cracked, sounding like the broken voice box in a toy. Despite their eyes being hidden, Tagfer could feel their eyes staring into his. 

“It does, actually…” He tells them, sitting down in front of them, “I lost Minn, and now I’m all that’s left. You… you lost “Kitty”...”

He watched them carefully, looking down to the metal insignia that hung loosely around their neck. He didn’t know who it belonged to, but the last time Loid tried to remove it they nearly broke his arm. 

“I… died so he could live.” Nyx muttered, running their hand over the insignia, “They all live now.”

“But at what cost?” he questioned, “Don’t you think Kitty misses you? Don’t you think he cries thinking you’re dead? Long gone and eaten up by those things you dragged into the Void?”

It all started to flood back- the gnashing jaws, dribbling with drool and blood, infectious. Hands mangled into artificial weapons, claws blunt and dull tearing into flesh. Yet Nyx was unmoving as those things climbed over each other to get to them, hands feverishly lashing out in a feeble attempt to get a grip on them. 

“It is the only way…” they said to themselves as they watched the growing horde get closer.

In an instant their own blade tore through them, driven by their own hand. A rip in the sky above them appeared, a ghastly “singing” ringing in everyone’s ears. The deeper they drove the blade the larger the rip became and the louder the singing got- the infected quickly beginning to petrify, wild spirals of metal sprung from the bodies. 

One remained unchanged amongst the mass of rapidly decaying bodies- Lion, he was trying to get to them over the heap of limbs and spirals. Though he was only ever close enough to grab hold of the blade’s handle as Nyx dropped it to their feet, letting the spiraling bodies get absorbed into the light before they themselves began to dissolve away. 

He was yelling something, but they couldn’t understand him anymore. He reached for them but he found himself shoved away right before the tear sealed itself and left him alone amongst a pile of debris.

“Yeah… see you remember. You know grief.” Tagfer said, “You lost him as I lost Minn.”

“Don’t remind them of someone they can’t see.” Loid told Tagfer who returned the statement with a frustrated groan. 

“If they don’t remember what would be the point in telling them that there’s a way to go back?”

[gloomiebearwritings]

not now kitten. daddy’s writing a post for the three people who always give him notes on tumblr

[gloomiebearwritings]

He missed you...

CW: Smut w/ no plot, Minors DNI, reader is GN but mentions of AFAB anatomy. Word count: 600+

A little uhhhh gift for @chadillacboseman (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

He was acting like he was starving having been away for so long, leaving small bruises along your hips and thighs as his hands gripped your bare skin like you’d slip away. The sound of your breathing and his own heart beating were the only two things he could hear, and all he could feel was your warm skin under his palms and lips. 

“Such a sweet thing…”

His voice is wispy and soft, barely audible to you- his lips barely inches away from the tender skin of your inner thigh, having slung your legs over his shoulders. Your mind barely has time to react before you feel his tongue slip between your folds, gently pressing against your clit. His movements were slow against your bundle of nerves as if he was savoring it. 

He wasn’t slowing down, even as you started squirming at his relentless motion- instead holding your hips firmly in place with firm hands. And the more your body moved under his palms he only hummed, quite content with continuing as is.

“Gustave!” Your voice barely breaks through the ringing in your ears as the knot tightens in your gut, your legs quivering against him. Yet his motions continued, your clit tender and sensitive- his motions being just enough to feel good but not enough to make the knot snap. You reached down to run your fingers through his hair, to pull his head up to look at him just to see his love-drunk eyes looking at you- utterly lost in you. He gave you a drunken grin, his hair now a mess in your hand.

“Let me continue, y/n…” 

He breathlessly chuckled, hands gripping your hips, fingertips digging into the soft flesh, “Please let me continue, y/n.”

His voice sounded almost pathetic, like you’d just taken away his most prized possession. After a nod from you, without breaking eye contact he inches closer to your cunt- some of his hair falling to his face again, eyes only slightly obscured as he returns to feasting. 

Returning to the pace he had before he feasted away, still acting like he had been starved for days. Carefully bringing one hand down from your hip and gently running his fingers along your folds under his tongue, letting them get slick before pushing two into your entrance. 

The sounds that fell from your mouth made his cock ache, and it felt just oh so good. It was such a perfect torture to him, feeling your walls squeeze around his fingers as the knot tightened again in your gut- the way your hips shifted and squirmed under his hand, and the way your thighs held his head so firmly in place. 

His persistence led to your knot getting tighter and tighter until he pressed against just the right spot, the knot snapping as he increased his speed to help you ride it out before he dared move away. 

As your pleasure melted into a cloud of fuzzy feelings he stood up, pushing you further up the bed enough to bring himself onto it. Leaning over you, his hair still a mess, he smiled- slowing your breath quickly coming to a halt as he brought the head of his cock to your folds. The sudden yet slight over-stimulation makes your haze clear enough to see his face clearly.

His eyes were heavy lidded, locked onto how easily his tip slid between your folds, and just how your entrance swallowed his tip. The sensation of being inside you luring a long, soft groan from him.

As he pushes deeper he leans over you and whispers as softly as he can despite the shaking in his voice, “I just want to hear you sing just a little bit more…”

[gloomiebearwritings]

Apologies for not writing lately, the last year was extremely tough on my mental health and I'm still not quite fully recovered. But I will be trying to get some works done soon!

Thank you for your patience! ❤️

[gloomiebearwritings]

Are you still writing for r6s?

-🇷🇺

I am, yes! (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.) Currently working on a Doc piece right now even!

[gloomiebearwritings]