Tuna Tober - Blog Posts

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: Playful Kiss🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

Playful Kiss🪻

need me a wolvie kissie

taglist: @ripleyswife @just-a-nightdreamer @www-interludeshadow-com @venomqueen2002 @c1eepypas1a @amphitrite-5 @yarrystyleeza @lemurianstarship @theestorm @livingonsillylovesongs @addresstothedevil

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: Sharing an Umbrella🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

Sharing an Umbrella🪻

leo my love...

Ship: Duke Leopold Mountbatten x f!Reader

Rating: 13+

Wordcount: 499

Warnings: cursing

Series: Leg's Tuna Tober

The New York City streets were bathed in swathes of neon lights, refracted by rain pelting the asphalt. Deep puddles lined the sidewalks like coursing streams. Small waterfalls leaked off rooves and gutters onto the pedestrians going about their business on this dreary day.

You and Leo were walking, hand in hand, from your shared apartment to your favorite bakery a few blocks down. A royal purple umbrella was held in Leo's hand to shield the two of you from the downpour. At one point your head had landed on his shoulder, the two of you huddled under your shelter.

Easy banter flowed between you. Talk of which coffee is the best, the correct way to cook an egg, and other menial discussions passed in clouded breaths. A dull chill had settled amongst the raindrops. It clung to your jackets in gusts of humid air. The cold burrowed through the wool material of your coat and started to seep into your bones.

Luckily, the bakery was in sight, the comforting glow from the windows shining on the pavement just on the other side of the road. You and Leo waited at the corner while the crosswalk sign flashed red. A small crowd of disgruntled New Yorkers gathered around the two of you.

"Lovely day, isn't it?" Leo asked a shivering woman to his right. She threw him a squinted glare, crow's feet deepening as she narrowed her eyes. Her disdain was met with Leo's signature, bright smile.

Green illuminated the gloom as you dragged your partner away. You sighed, shaking your head at his antics. He knew exactly what he was doing. Leo just relished in messing with people in inconsequential ways.

"I think she liked me," he mused, rainboots splashing in the curb's puddles. White stripes lined the crosswalk between you and your destination.

"Uh huh, yes dear," you returned with an air of sarcasm.

Leo answered your remark by dumping the rain that'd collected on the top of the umbrella over your head. You squealed, darting away and across the street, now thoroughly drenched. His boisterous laugh followed you as you hopped up onto the curb. Rainwater dripped from the hem of your coat onto the slick pavement.

"Asshole!" you called over the crowd. A few sideways glances were directed your way at the shout. It was only a few moments before the much drier Leo joined you on the sidewalk.

"Apologies, my dear. The handle must've slipped," he said through a knowing smirk.

"You're buying me coffee for that," you grumbled, not truly mad at him. How could you be? Even just being in his proximity made your brief annoyance leak from you into the puddles. And he knew it, too. That mischievous glint never left his hazel eyes whenever he was near.

"I'll even throw in a pastry," he added lightly. His warm hand brushed a trail of rain from the side of your face. You leaned into the touch, every trace of tension sapped from your body.

this is short and sweet :)

taglist: @just-a-nightdreamer @www-interludeshadow-com @lemurianstarship @venomqueen2002 @c1eepypas1a @amphitrite-5 @yarrystyleeza @theestorm @being-worthy

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: "You don't need to do that.” "I want to." 🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

"You don't need to do that." "I want to."🪻

leo is just the perfect vessel for fluff. I DON'T MAKE THE RULES

Ship: Duke Leopold Mountbatten x f!Reader

Rating: 13+

Wordcount: 774

Warnings: periods, possible endometriosis, cursing, nausea

Series: Leg's Tuna Tober

You ached all over.

Not just your abdomen, where your willful uterus throbbed with every breath and sent shocks of agony down your spine, but everywhere else. Your breasts were sensitive to the touch, your back was stiffer than a board, and the muscles in your hips gave out a few hours ago.

All you could do was bury yourself in the couch cushions and groan occasionally. Waves of nausea emanated from your stomach, coursing through your body in violent bursts. You couldn't get up and get water because your head hadn't stopped spinning since you woke up.

Periods. Fucking. Suck.

The ice pack you'd grabbed before your symptoms truly set in had long since melted. A puddle of water cradled the ice pack tauntingly where it sat on the rug. You stared at the blue plastic through half-lidded eyes. If looks could kill, the room-temperature ice pack would be nothing but ash.

Jingling keys in the apartment's door drew your ire from the hunk of plastic. You watched the brass knob turn, the hinges catching a bit, as Leo forced his way through the troublesome door. A large plastic bag crinkled where it was gripped in his large hand. Bulging boxes stretched at the thin material.

"Darling?" he called as the door swung shut behind him. One of your loose sweatshirts hung from his broad shoulders. What seemed monstrous on you just barely fit Leopold. The green of the cotton made his bright, hazel eyes gleam in the apartment's ceiling lights.

"In here," you grumbled tiredly. Another throb centered in your abdomen made you wince. You ground your teeth, eyes screwing shut, as you tried to work through the pain.

"Oh, my love. How bad is it?" Leo asked, voice growing closer as he approached what felt like your death bed. Well, death couch. You peered at him through squinted eyes.

"Bad," you answered with a groan. The plastic bag crinkled as Leo set it next to the couch. You just barely caught a glimpse of the pads and tampons he'd bought while he was out.

"How ba- Lord!" he exclaimed. It seemed he'd found the puddle. Your giggle at his misfortune quickly shifted to a strained sigh as the muscles in your back creaked. Leo adjusted where he knelt by your head, "Damned ice. How's your nausea? Any better than before I left?"

You gingerly shook your head, "Nope."

"When was the last time you drank some water?" he asked. A warm palm rested on your oversensitive shoulder. It was soft, strong, the fingers massaging circles into your sore muscles. An involuntary sigh escaped your chapped lips.

"Can't remember. Been a while," you replied, eyes falling closed as Leo smoothed his hand up and down your arm. He always had a way of calming the turmoil inside you. Like a lighthouse guiding a battered ship to shore.

"How about I get you some water, hm? You can rifle through what I've bought while I do that," he suggested with a kind smile. You couldn't help but mirror the expression.

"You didn't need to do all that, hon. I could've ordered it," you said.

Feigned offense washed over Leo's face. His eyebrows furrowed, nose scrunched near the bridge, as a forced frown tugged at his mouth, "I'm shocked that you'd even consider using your telly-phone over your perfectly good me!"

The laugh that shook your chest felt revitalizing in a way. Like the first rays of sunshine after a violent storm. It was easy to forget your pains for a moment.

Leo's charade didn't last. His furious expression broke as he laughed with you, saying "Besides, I wanted to. I like caring for you."

Warmth blossomed in your chest. Petals of kindness and utter devotion floated across your lungs with every breath you took. This man. This out-of-time man, the one who'd completely won your heart, was as infatuated with you as you were with him. The thought helped ease the aches slithering up your spine.

"Pilfer the bag, I'll get your water," Leo uttered quietly. He pressed a gentle kiss to your hairline. You couldn't help the way your pulse involuntarily kicked up at the action. He always had a way of making your heart race.

Having your period was never easy. It fucking sucked. From the agonizing ache rooted in your uterus to the full-body shakes you'd get, that time of the month could be an utter nightmare. But, as you pulled several bars of chocolate out of the plastic bag, the nightmare was starting to look more like a domestic dream. One you never would've expected with Duke Leopold Mountbatten.

Y'ALL I'M IN LOVE WITH A FAKE PERSON

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: "Open your mouth" + "Let me see what that pretty mouth can do."🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

Day 6 - Kneel

Prompts: 9: “Open your mouth.” + 27: “Let me see what that pretty mouth can do.” Character: Matt Murdock Reader: Matt Murdock x Reader Word Count: 1545 Warnings: Explicit smut, dirty talk, oral sex (m receiving), mild hair-pulling, gentle mouth fucking, the Black Suit of Sin, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. Taglist: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @yarrystyleeza, @justvalkyrie, @shouldbestudying41 Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist

A little later than I originally planned but I hope worth the wait.

Kneel

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was somewhere in this apartment. Your only light was the billboard outside. It transformed your apartment from somewhere familiar into an forbidding landscape of crimson and shadows. Your Devil favored the shadows, only letting you catch glimpses of him as he stalked around on eerily silent feet.

It was easy to see why he had scared the piss out of people.

Not you. You found it exciting. In more ways than one. Your heart might be racing but there was also a wet heat forming between your legs.

A dark chuckle merged from the shadows behind you. “Haven’t even touched you and your body is already begging me. Are you so eager to be fucked by the Devil?”

You couldn’t deny that so you didn’t try. “Yes.”

“Naughty girl.” His breath ghosted over your ear. You shuddered. He was close enough to your back that you could feel the heat of his body.

Then, just as suddenly as he had appeared, he disappeared.

Not entirely. You knew he was somewhere in the apartment. You couldn’t see him. Couldn’t hear him moving around. But you knew he was there. Beyond the unlikeliness of him abandoning the little game you were playing without a warning, you could just feel his presence. The sensation of being observed.

Your breathing sounded inordinately loud in the otherwise silent apartment. Your Devil remained in the shadows, letting the anticipation build.

Then he appeared in front of you with a suddenness that made you gasp.

The red light bathing his body seemed to highlight every visible muscle. Of which there were many as the black suit fit your Devil like a second skin. You couldn’t help staring, greedily drinking in those broad shoulders, powerful chest, defined abs, and thick thighs. Nor did you miss the bulge tenting those pants.

Your cunt clenched around nothing. If you hadn’t already been aching for him before, you would be now.

The Devil before you was fully aware of effect he was having on you. You could see it in that smirk. The way he licked his lips before he moved close. His walk was unhurried but with an unmistakably predatory slink. Rather like a cat stalking after a mouse. Apt. As you did feel rather like prey.

But not in a bad way, you thought, pressing your thighs together in an effort to not squirm. Something that did not escape the Devil standing directly in front of you. That confident smirk spread wider. Feeling your cheeks warm, your gaze dropped to your bare feet. So close to his heavy black boots, they looked . . . dainty. Fragile.

Matt wasn’t an exceptionally large man. But something about the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen made you feel almost small . . . no, that wasn’t the right word . . . maybe delicate? Yes. You felt delicate, standing before the Devil dressed in an almost sheer negligee that was - barely - long enough to cover your ass.

Delicate. And more than a little naughty. Your Devil had really hit the nail on the head with that one.

A gloved hand gripped your chin. The grip was gentle but you could feel the strength in his hand. The careful control of that strength. He tipped your head back, pulling your eyes away from your feet. Your breath caught. You had never met anyone else who could give you the feeling of intense, intimate eye contact without actually meeting your eyes. But your Devil could. In many ways, having his full attention on you felt even more intense, more intimate, than mere eye contact.

And this close, you could see the hair dusting his jaw. Not quite long enough to be called a beard but too thick to be called stubble. He hadn’t been shaving. And you hoped that this behavior continued. You couldn’t put into words why exactly the idea of your Devil with a beard was so hot. You just knew that it was.

His fingers tightened, then he was kissing you. It was not gentle. Kiss was almost too mild of a word. An explosion of passion where he all but devoured you with his lips, teeth, and tongue. A kiss that deepened when his hand slid to cup the side of your face and tipped your head back further.

You returned his kiss with just as much fire. His other arm snaked around your back and pulled you against him. You moaned into his mouth, your fingers digging into his arms. You wished that erection pressed against your bare thigh wasn’t trapped in his pants. You ached for him.

You whined when the Devil broke off the kissing. Even if he looked really pretty with his lips kiss-swollen. He ran his thumb across your lip. You shivered, tempting to see just how much your Devil could feel through those gloves . . .

“Such a sweet mouth,” he mused. You shuddered. His Devil voice always did things to you but this quiet, almost conversational tone? Similar to his courtroom voice but deeper and richer? That really sent the tingles straight to your cunt.

If his other careers didn’t work out, your Devil had a bright future in erotic audiobooks. Didn’t even need to be erotic. Reading the phonebook in that voice would leave anyone hot and bothered.

“Is there more that this sweet mouth can do?”

You nodded eagerly.

“Well then,” he said. “Kneel. Let me see what this pretty mouth can do.”

You were quick to comply. As you sank to your knees, the Devil reached for his belt. Soon he was tugging down his pants and boxers. But only just far enough to free his cock. As far as dicks went, your Devil had a pretty one. Long, thick, and already leaking. Your mouth watered at the sight.

You gripped his cock in one hand and licked up one of the beads of pre-cum trailing down the side. The Devil hissed. Then, feeling suddenly mischievous, you stuck with licking. Short, flat swipes of your tongue up and down his cock. But you give particular attention to the head and that little sensitive spot just under it.

Hands grabbed your hair, firm but not painful, then pulled your head back to look at his face. The Devil’s snarl should have been scary. Was meant to be frightening. And it certainly was intimidating. But you also found it incredibly sexy.

Something, judging the flaring on his nostrils, that was not missed by your Devil.

“Very naughty girl,” he growled. “Teasing the Devil . . . soaking your panties . . . such a bad, bad girl.”

You moaned, feeling your cunt clench around nothing. The grip on your hair tightened. Not exactly painful, just the slightest sting.

“But I’ll have no more of your teasing, naughty girl. Open your mouth.”

You obeyed. He feed his cock into your waiting mouth. In a sharp contrast to his air of aggression, this was done slowly and carefully. Your Devil’s reckless streak was reserved entirely for himself. You? Not so much. 

Even with your Devil’s caution, it didn’t take long for you both to find a good rhythm. Your ears were filled with his grunts and moans along with the wet sounds of his cock filling your mouth again and again . . . the deep groans when you swallow around him . . . 

Your jaw is starting to get sore but you don’t care. You love it. Feeling your lips stretch over his girth . . . . the heavy weight on your tongue . . . the salty-bitter taste . . . that all you can smell is your Devil’s unique blend of leather, copper, spices, and old paper . . . .  you loved it all . . .

You could absolutely understand why your Devil couldn’t get enough of burying his face in your cunt.

You moaned around his cock, then felt his rhythm get sloppy. He was getting close. You moaned around him again. Digging your nails into his bare ass, you encouraged his cock further into your mouth. The deepest down your throat he had ever been. His hands, still tangled in your hair, pulled as he swore and came.

After one last suck that your Devil swearing again, you let his limp cock slip out of your mouth. Leaning your head against his legs, you closed your eyes and tried to catch your breath.

As you did, you became aware of other things. Like the aching need in your neglected cunt . . .

“Take them off.”

“What?” you asked, confused by the growled command.

“Your panties. Take them off.”

That sounded like a great idea. Your panties were uncomfortably wet. Accomplishing this was a little awkward but you managed, throwing the soiled panties somewhere into the shadows. But your Devil wasn’t done making demands.

“Stand up.”

“Why?” you asked, even as you complied with this newest demand.

A dark chuckle. “Oh, naughty girl, did you think we were done?”

He herded you backwards until your back hit the wall. “Do you think I can’t smell just how soaked that pussy is for me?”

He put his hands on the wall, either side of your head. Boxing you in. His grin was fierce . . . feral. “Because I can. And I intend to drink my fill.”

As the Devil began to sink down to his knees, he added one last command. “And naughty girl? You better not hold back a single sound.”

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: "You can sleep here tonight." 🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

You Can Sleep Here Tonight🪻

my baby.... i love van helsing SO MUCH!!!! this movie is honestly top 10 for me

Ship: Gabriel Van Helsing x f!Reader

Rating: 13+

Wordcount: 1.2k

Warnings: violence, use of acid, monsters, stabbing, blood, bit of flirting

Series: Leg's Tuna Tober

Black quills soared over Gabriel's head as he barely dodged the onslaught. Barb after barb whistling through the air just past his left shoulder. A rough grunt coughed up his throat as he stood from the cobblestones.

He was met by the long arc of claws slashing at his chest. Arms with three, long talons hooked at the ends whirled at Gabriel. The hunter backed away on light feet. Snarls from his foe echoed around the brick alley Van Helsing had found himself in.

Lean muscles along his thigh stretched when he planted a strong kick to the chupacabra's abdomen. Its reptilian skin offered little to no rebound, its hide as thick as tanned leather. Large, black, soulless eyes reflected Gabriel's harrowed expression back at him. Three elongated teeth dripped slobber onto his boot.

A slash at Gabriel's foot made him pull away. He made a mental note to thoroughly scrub his boots later. The brick wall dug into the material of his coat as he backed up from the chupacabra. His mind raced with thousands of ways to advance this fight, to come out victorious.

The chupacabra crouching in preparation to charge dashed any swirling thoughts from Gabriel's mind. He watched, anticipation burning under his skin, as the creature readied itself to launch. One moment, two, then it leaped.

Gabriel rolled out of the path of the monster. Stones scraped along the leathers he'd adorned himself with. His head snapped up, long hair falling away from his face in strands of chestnut, as he watched the chupacabra. The creature collided with the bricks in a loud thud. Barely audible crunches crackling along the strong bones running through its body.

It fell to the ground in a heap of leathery skin and black quills. Van Helsing scrambled to his feet, gloved hands digging into his coat pockets. He backed a healthy distance away.

Finally. His fist produced a glass vial from one of his lapel pockets. Palm sized, glass clouded, filled with a viscous grey liquid. The cork plugged into the neck was primed to pop off with the slightest touch.

"Look out!" Gabriel heard you shout from the mouth of the alley. He looked up just in time to see the chupacabra reorient itself towards him, fangs dripping onto the stones. Its claws dug deep gouges into the ground as it galloped towards the hunter on all fours.

Van Helsing reared back, vial grasped in his large hand, before he flung it at the monster. The glass sailed through the air in a short arc, moonlight glinting off the projectile.

Glass shattered against the chupacabra's broad chest. The impact was immediately met with a sickening sizzle as the liquid burned into the creature's hide. Smoke poured from the rapidly growing hole in its thick skin. Yellow, stringy flesh emerged from beneath the leathery hide.

The monster howled as it collapsed to the ground. Ear-piercing shrieks and loud bellows shot from its toothy maw. Its clawed appendages thrashed around in agony.

"The stake! Now!" Gabriel exclaimed in your direction. Silver flashed as you scooped the stake off the ground, the metal rod clutched in your shaking hands.

He snatched it out of the air after you lobbed it in Gabriel's general direction. The hunter approached the monster, looming over the flailing beast like a jagged mountain over a desolate valley.

Flesh squelched when the stake was jabbed into the chupacabra's chest. One last shriek erupted from the creature's mouth, the silver finding its mark in the monster's heart, before it went deathly still. Its hide continued to hiss in the quiet, night air.

For the first time since the fight had started, Gabriel allowed himself to breathe. Acrid smoke rising from the chupacabra's body burrowed into his sinuses. He winced, standing from the creature's body and pulling his mask down before the smell got a foothold in the fabric.

"Th-Thank you," you stammered from across the alley. The hem of your dress was in tatters, thanks to the now dead creature at Van Helsing's feet, and a slash through the bodice left bits of your chest exposed. Trembling arms clutched at the torn fabric to keep it in place.

"Are you alright?" Gabriel asked, stepping around the carcass in your direction. His drying boots clipped along the cobblestones. He stopped short of where the alley ended and you stood, just beyond the entrance. Passing coaches and glowing streetlamps painted the world behind you in picturesque strokes.

"I'm fine, thanks to you. What was that thing?" you questioned. The tremor had abandoned your voice, leaving a strong timbre in its place. You peered over Gabriel's shoulder at the still-smoking body.

The hunter smirked, stepping back on his heel, "A chupacabra. Unfortunately common in these parts," he began. He pivoted to face the creature in question. He felt your stare as he walked back to his quarry, "Got reports of drained livestock and missing children in this area. So, the Church sent me to handle it. This was the last one in the nest I found a few days ago. Managed to slip away before I could kill it."

You watched with wide eyes as Van Helsing yanked the stake from the chupacabra's disintegrating body, "You do this often?"

"More often than I'd like," he replied easily. Liquid flesh sloughed off the silver when he shook the stake. Splashes of off-yellow covered the stones in a disgusting splotch of sizzling meat. The hunter remained unphased by the abhorrent display.

"What was in that vial you threw?" you asked, continuing your interrogation. Gabriel sighed as he stood, turning back around to face you.

"A mixture of boiled chupacabra quills and holy water. Only that combination is enough to burn away its thick hide. Then, one quick stab with some silver, and it's dead. Satisfied?" he explained with annoyance dripping from his tone.

You blew a sigh at a strand of hair covering your face, "I suppose I am, Mr.Monster-Hunter. You got a name?"

"Van Helsing," Gabriel answered. He tucked the stake back amongst the copious pockets lining the inside of his coat. The silver slid into place along three other stakes of similar size.

"Well, Van Helsing. Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?"

His hazel eyes widened as they met yours, "What?"

"Seeings as you just saved my life, I figure that I at least owe you a meal and a comfortable bed," you explained, shrugging.

"That's really not necessary," Gabriel said with a grunt, trying to brush past you. A push of your hand on his chest kept him in place.

"I owe you my life. Please, let me at least try to return the favor?" you pleaded. He couldn't help but feel entranced at your kind expression. Wide eyes glistening in the moonlight, plump lips beckoning him closer, soft hand pressed against the skin above his heart.

The hunter let a genuine smile tug at his lips. What harm could come from a meal? He hadn't eaten anything hot in several days. Just foraged roots and berries he'd managed to find as he tracked the chupacabras. He deserved a break, a reward for his service to the Church.

"Alright," he relented, voice barely louder than a murmur. A grin wisped across your face like a summer breeze.

"Perfect! Follow me, Mr.Van Helsing."

i want to kiss his silly face and tell him i love him

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: FALLING ASLEEP IN A HOSPITAL ROOM🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

A Second Pillow (Frank Castle x Fem!Reader)

Hello!! Please pretend I'm not 3 days late lmaooo...here's my first addition to the lovely Tuna-Tober!

Tuna-Tober Day 1: Falling Asleep In A Hospital Room

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Warnings: hospital, mention of injuries, a little bit of angst with fluff

Word Count: 600

“Frank,” you said quietly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. He hadn’t let go of you since he got here, hadn’t taken his eyes off you, hadn’t stopped making sure you were safe. “You can go home. I’m okay.”

“Not a chance, sweetheart,” he responded, his voice even lower than usual with how he was fighting to stay awake. It was past three in the morning, and you’d both been here since noon when he had rushed you to the emergency room. “If they wanna discharge you tomorrow morning, I’ll leave tomorrow morning.”

You smile fondly, your thumb rubbing back and forth on his hand. “I appreciate the chivalry, but you look like you’re going to pass out. At least go get some coffee.”

He just shakes his head, shifting slightly in his seat. “I'm fine. You warm enough? Need another pillow?”

Frank, to most, seemed like an impassive man. His set jaw, his furrowed brows, his constant attempts to keep this expression blank, it all pointed to the conclusion he wasn’t bothered in the slightest. But you knew him. You knew his insistence on staying put, his frequent scans of the room, and the periodic twitching of his index finger meant he was worried out of his mind. He knew you were safe. Logically, he knew you were going to be fine. But the sight of you in a hospital bed had him on edge. He felt compelled to find the threat, something he could put down to keep you alive and well. 

“Frank,” you said softly. “I’m okay. It’s just a broken bone.”

“Two broken bones.” he corrected gruffly.

You gave him a nonchalant shrug. “One broken bone, two broken bones…the only difference is gonna be my hospital bill.” you tried for a laugh but only got a grimace. You sat up and put your other hand below your joined ones, bringing them up to kiss his.

“I’m okay. I’m safe. I’m with you. Alright?”

He just stared at you for a moment, his eyes unconvinced and wavering. 

With a small grunt you move yourself to the right and pat the open spot next to you. “C’mon, big guy. You need some sleep.”

“I’m fine—“

“If you’re not gonna listen to me when I say I’m fine, I won’t listen to you when you say it. Come on.” you pat the spot again. When he doesn’t move, you cross your arms and raise an eyebrow. “Really? You would deny a woman cuddles?”

That cracked his shell, a twitch in his lips making him smile, just a little bit. It was the world to you. 

“There’s barely enough room on that mattress for you by yourself--”

You sighed, shaking your head and feigning offense. “No, no, I see how it is. I guess I’ll just have to sleep in here all by myself. Alone. Cold. Wounded--”

“Oh hell--”

You beamed as he climbed in next to you, moving close to him to rest your head on his chest.

“Easy, easy, be careful, honey.” he grumbled, enveloping your body in his arms, careful to not bump into your injuries. 

Once you were both settled and comfortable you sighed, letting your eyes drift shut. His fingers trailed back and forth on your forearm in a soothing motion, pressing a kiss to the top of your head every now and then. It wasn’t long before you both fell asleep, the sound of each other’s breathing a soothing lullaby.

@tunatober

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: BEGGING🐟✨

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Begging🔥

this one is STEAMY y'all

Ship: Logan Howlett x f!Reader

Rating: 18+

Wordcount: 801

Warnings: orgasm denial, edging, begging, unprotected PiV, cigars, bruising, dom!logan/sub!reader, biting, bloodplay ish?, kind of mean!logan, dumbification

Series: Leg's Tuna Tober

It was hard to breathe with how close you were. Dangling on the precipice of euphoria, sweet release nipping at your heels from where you clawed at the cliff face. Tendrils slithered around your heels and tugged. Pulling you further and further into the vast pit below.

"Logan, p-please," you whined, voice strained. Sweat dripped down your furrowed brow in thick bullets. The muscles in your thighs screamed from under your overheated skin. Despite your need for release, you inwardly cringed at how needy you sounded.

A cruel chuckle rumbled from the man beneath you. Large hands gripped at your hips, the callused fingers pressing dark bruises into your skin. His arms flexed as he dragged you back and forth along his lap. Clouds of smoke hung heavily around your head in a grey halo.

"I think you can ask nicer than that, doll," Logan sneered around the lit cigar between his teeth. His lips were pulled into a taunting grin.

He'd been edging you for close to an hour now. Dragging you towards the cliff, your nails digging into the dirt, and holding you just over the precipice. Luring you towards your release with the slick slide of your bodies, his cock hitting every ridge inside of you, before he'd pull you off of him and halt your orgasm in its ascent.

You gasped as thick fingers tugged at your hair. Strings of expletives spilled from your kiss-swollen lips, your neck straining, as Logan tugged your head back. His sharp canines left blossoms of crimson along the thin skin under your jaw.

"Ask again. Maybe I'll let you come this time," he huffed against the shell of your ear. He must have put his cigar on the nightstand as he kissed and licked at your skin with reckless abandon.

"Please, Lo. Please let me come," you begged with the sour tinge of desperation. Your swollen clit dragged along the crisp hair at the base of Logan's cock. A breathless moan kicked through your clenched teeth.

He hummed, the sound making his lips buzz against your skin. You shivered as puffs of whiskey-scented breath coasted across your damp skin. The developing bruises along your hips twinged when Logan's grip tightened, "I guess I'll let ya. Just this once."

Breathing was a thing of the past with the new, brutal pace Logan set. Deep, quick, making explosions of color burst in your vision every time he buried himself to the hilt. Shaking fingers scrabbled along his toned chest as you sought for purchase. Frantic in the way you grasped at that cliff's edge.

It wouldn't be long now. Your fingers were pried, one by one, from the edge by Logan's intensity. That deep pit of swirling pleasure beckoned with its wide mouth. Flames licked up your skin in long ribbons of fuckyesdon'tstop with every brush of his cock on your cervix. Your eyes rolled back beneath your lashes.

"Look at ya," Logan rasped, words cutting through the slew of low grunts leaving his chest with every thrust, "All fucked out. I bet there ain't a thought in that pretty head of yours."

The best you could reply with was a high moan. You were one swift push away from toppling over the edge. Just needed that last bit, that last breeze along your bare skin, before you'd plunge into the inky depths below you.

A single glance of Logan's thumb on your clit and you were gone. Mind washed in wave after wave of blessed rapture. Sending a shudder down your spine as your orgasm flooded your veins. Boiling, liquid heat pumped through your blood with every rapid beat of your heart. You convulsed. Body shaking, limbs going numb, head thrown back as your labors were finally rewarded.

"There ya go. There ya fucking go," Logan uttered like a quiet prayer. His pounding into your wet cunt continued in its ferocity as he chased his own release. Groans bit through the air, heated palms pulling you flush to his slick chest, pointed nose burying in your tangled hair.

"L-Logan," you stuttered mindlessly. Your blunt nails dug into the skin across his shoulders. Red divots scraped through dark hair, making Logan bark out a gruff moan.

"Shi-it!" he gasped, hips snapping up into yours. One last thrust and he stilled, chest heaving with every gulped breath, Logan's eyes screwed shut as his orgasm wiped every trace of dominance from his body.

The two of you were a mess of sweaty limbs and traces of both your orgasms. Logan held you to his chest like you'd disintegrate before his eyes. Face nestled in the crook of your neck, arms looped around your waist, cock softening inside your painted walls. You were as limp as a ragdoll in his embrace.

Maybe begging wasn't so bad.

hooo boy i need a cold shower

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✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: WATER GUN FIGHT 🐟✨

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work song

pairing: michael kinsella x fem!reader

word count: 1k

tuna-tober prompt: water gun fight

summary: michael kinsella pure domestic bliss fluff

warnings: some suggestive dialogue, kids being kids

tagging: @yarrystyleeza

a/n: i’ve never written for mikey before. he’s my newest obsession. hope i did him some justice. i appreciate any likes/feedback/reblogs. ❣️

You’re spraying on your favorite perfume as you hear the sound of loud melodic laughter coming from the garden. 

There’s a rare heatwave in Ireland and your kids have been cooling off with popsicles and jumping through the sprinkler. 

You glance out your window to see your seven year old daughter and five year old son filling up their water guns. They’re strategizing and whispering about their plan of attack. Your son instead picks the super soaker to fill up. 

You spot Michael tending to your garden, unaware of the attack your mischievous children are planning. Your daughter and son are locked and loaded, trying their hardest to stifle their giggles as they run up on their da. 

They shriek as they both pull their water gun triggers, eliciting a surprised yelp from Michael. In a matter of seconds his thin t-shirt is soaked through and clinging to his chest. You hear him groan about how unfair their ambush was, only to be met with louder belly laughs from your children. 

Michael picks up your young son and playfully lifts him upside down, your little guy is a daredevil and loves to roughhouse with his da. Michael takes your daughter’s small water pistol and shoots it at your son. Your son tries to lap up the water like a puppy. Your daughter hugs Michael’s legs as she tries to take him down onto the soft grassy ground. The moment is such a joy to watch unfold. You knew the horrors of Michael’s past life and the man that he was. 

The man that he is now is honest, decent, and wholesome. Your walls are decorated with family photos of your life together. The highlight reel of the life you built together, brick by brick. The universe brought you both together at exactly the right time that it felt uncanny. He never knew love without manipulation, and your love was steadfast, whole-hearted, and true. The first time you ever made love was better than any high, and he wanted more. You broke down all his walls as you helped pull him out of his life of crime and desperation. With your help and guiding light he started a new humble life. He was able to gain legal access to visitations with Anna. They worked on their relationship and healed old wounds. You were absolutely honored when Michael introduced you to Anna. You could never replace her mother, but she grew to develop an affection for you and asked you for teenage advice. She was quiet and bright, she listened to you in a way Michael would never be able to get through to her. You’d go on shopping dates and grab lunch together, you provided her with a strong female influence. Michael asked Anna’s opinion before he popped the question as he wanted her support and wanted her to be a part of the family he hoped to build with you. She enthusiastically agreed. She wanted you to be a part of her life as well. When Michael asked you to marry him you agreed only on terms that he’d take your last name and give you beautiful children. Without hesitation he was overeager on both accounts. You married quickly and secretly not wishing to draw any attention. It didn’t take long for you to become pregnant with your daughter. 

You see Michael was still joking around with your kids about their stunt. You open the window and yell out, “Karma is a cat, Mikey. Ya need to get ready anyway. Anna will be here soon!” 

Michael acknowledges your remark realizing he’s short on time. He lifts both of the children into his arms and carries them inside and up the stairs so they can get changed out of their wet swimsuits. 

Michael opens your bedroom door and closes it behind him, “I’m soaked”, he says as he rips off his shirt and hangs it up to dry off. 

“Maybe if ya play yer cards right, I’ll be soaked later, too,” you tease as you put on your necklace, watching him advance as you look in the mirror. He’s behind you and he kisses a path from your shoulder up to your neck. His beard and his breath tickling you the whole way as he stops and nips on your earlobe, “Ya know, yer too good to me, pet.” 

Downstairs you hear your door open, it’s Anna shouting “Ma, Da, I’m here!” 

You urge Michael to get ready quickly so you aren’t late for your dinner reservation. He gets ready at rapid speed and looks so effortlessly handsome. You depart from the bedroom and head downstairs where your kids are already harassing their grown up half-sister. She’s asking them about school and they pick out books to read together in the fort they’re planning to build in the living room. Your daughter is showing Anna the blueprint of where the furniture and blankets will be set up. 

“Don’t worry lovebirds I have everything under control, stay out as late as ya want, but remember while car sex isn’t illegal in Ireland, indecent exposure is, so, don’t get caught sickos,” Anna jokes. She’s at university studying law, following in your footsteps. 

“Noted, thank ya for the brilliant legal advice, Anna. Call if ya need anythin’,” you say as you give her a warm hug. 

“Will do, ma,” Anna says back to you with a smile. 

Your kids run up to you and give you both great big hugs and kisses before your departure. You walk hand-in-hand to your car, excited for a much needed date night. 

“Ya hungry, love?” You ask as you pull out of your driveway. 

“Starvin’, but not for anything on the menu,” Michael said with a smirk and a glint in his eyes.

“Oh? And what’re ya hungry for?” 

“Always ya, pet,” Michael sighs as his hand grips your thigh. 

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✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: WATER GUN FIGHT + TICKLING 🐟✨

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Day 5 - Sunlight

Prompts: 5 - Water Gun Fight + 17 - Tickling Character: Michael Kinsella Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader Word Count: ~400 Warning: Tooth-rotting fluff, spoilers for Kin Season 1, referenced character death and drug use, past depressed mindset, vague but original child character Tags: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @lulukings92, @yarrystyleeza Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist

Sunlight

It was amazing how much of a difference a few years makes.

If someone had told Michael Kinsella five years ago what his future held, he wouldn’t have believed them. At best he would regarded such predictions as the product of a diseased mind. At worse, a cruel joke.

Because, five years ago today, Michael wasn’t certain that he was going to survive the rest of the year.

Soon or later, if enough people were determined to kill him, one of them would succeed eventually. He’d make a mistake. Or he’d stop fighting. After all, what did he have to live for? His wife was dead. Jaime, the son he had never allowed to be anything other than Uncle Mikey to, was dead. Anna hated him. Everyone watched him with fear or disgust in their eyes. Including his own family at times.

Everyone seemed intent on pulling him back into that quagmire of crime and violence. Just like when he was kid desperately trying to escape that sucking pit, everyone turned their backs. Left him to drown in darkness and pain. Only this time, he couldn’t even numb himself to it with drugs and booze without making the seizures worse.

Not since it had first snapped shut on him at sixteen had the jaws of this trap hurt so bad.

Five years ago, Michael didn’t know that his impulsive decision to keep walking instead turning left toward his cold, empty house would change everything. Or that downpour would have him ducking into a little shop where he’d meet you, the love of his life.

Now he came home to a home filled with warmth and people who loved him. A life where his hands were used to create beauty instead of misery. Or to tickle his child until the little one’s delighted peels of laughter were the only thing he could hear.

Five years ago, Michael was condemned to be a bloody shadow stalking the twilight streets, a bringer of fear and death.

Today, he ran across the sunlight garden armed with a little green water pistol. The only thing he had to fear was Anna nailing him with another water ballon.

Or his toddler, with the giggling assistance of his pretty wife, ambushing him from behind the tree with the garden hose. While he fought for control of the hose, Anna started lobbing balloons at all of them. She had impeccable aim. Not that this saved her from the wrath of her younger sibling.

Needless to say, when it was time to go inside, everyone was thoroughly soaked.

And Michael couldn’t be happier.

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✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPT FILLED: INSOMNIA 🐟✨

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Insomnia🩸🌧️

some lore for vampire!!!

Ship: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader🩸

Rating: 16+

Wordcount: 2.0k

Warnings: angst, nightmares, PTSD struggles, cursing, alcohol mention, Logan is a Flirt (i guess?)

Series: Leg's Tuna Tober

You woke with a start. Heart pounding against your ribs so hard you swore they would crack. Sweat dripped down your forehead and the back of your neck. The pale blue sheets draped across your bed were tangled with every limb they could wrap around.

Wooden walls and antique furniture met your frantic gaze as your eyes darted around the room. Your room. In Charles Xavier's mansion. Where you'd lived for several decades at this point.

The concrete walls of your cell in Washington, DC were a thing of the past. Rust-colored blood stains splashed across the floors, slivers of light leaking through the metal door, spiders making a home in the upper corners. You were free of that life.

So why did you still dream of it?

The muscles in your neck groaned as you sat up against your headboard. You were tense, anxiety oozing into your blood. Your head made a thunk when you let it fall back against the headboard.

Nightmares weren't a foreign concept to you. Almost every night, your mind would be filled with your past. Flashes of pain and terror and blood. Scenes replaying over and over, night after night, tormenting you with long claws digging into your mind and scratching your sanity away.

You needed to walk. To clear your head, to calm your pulse.

Unwinding your legs from the sheets was like pulling the limbs from a nest of angry snakes. You tugged at the fabric in near desperation. It clung to your clammy skin, restricting you, restraining you, keeping you captive.

Breathe.

The memory of Charles's calming voice gave you pause. Your eyes fell closed, a deep breath filling your strained lungs. Air blew from your pursed lips as you released the tension from your shoulders.

You were safe. Nothing could hurt you here. Your friends were here, your kids were here, the life you'd built with bloodied fingernails was here. Scott, Jean, Ororo, and Charles would never let anything happen to you.

Now that the shaking in your fingers had subsided, it was quick work to pull your sheets away. The damp fabric fell away like clouds on a windy day. You pushed yourself to your feet. A tremble ran up your legs, unsteady feet finding purchase on the hardwood floor. You gave yourself a few moments to find your balance.

The cold of the untouched floor seeped into the balls of your feet, grounding you. Bringing you back to the present. You were in the mansion. You were safe. The mantra repeated in your mind as you scooped up your sweatshirt from the end of your bed.

Grey cotton filled your hands. Soft, comfortable, familiar. You wore this sweatshirt nearly every day. Finding solace among the plush fabric that shielded you from your own mind. The fleece interior tickled along your arms as you pulled it on. Like securing a piece of armor, you tugged at the zipper until you were completely encompassed.

You made for the bedroom door as you pulled up the hood. Fabric cradled your head, acting like horse blinders and centering your focus, while your fingers wrapped around the brass knob. Cold metal caressed your palm like a frozen kiss.

Another strained breath forced itself through your lips as you pulled open the door. Empty halls decorated in plush carpets, large vases, and dimmed sconces met your tired eyes. All of the wooden doors lining the hall were shut tight. Made sense, given it was the middle of the night.

Bare feet padded along the patterned carpet as you walked. You kept your focus zeroed in on the design woven into the fibers. Spiraling leaves and floating flowers chased each other across the artwork. Faded reds and golds braided amongst one another. You remembered buying this particular rug. In spring of 1983, when you and Charles had been decorating the mansion together.

The fond memory of your shopping spree with your closest friend kept your thoughts comfortable. You clung to the feeling, holding it close to your chest, as you followed the routine path to your destination. Framed paintings of stretched landscapes passed in your periphery not covered by your sweatshirt's hood.

Moonlight shone in gentle rays through the balcony's glass doors. Silver bounced off the polished hardwood and gave the surrounding space a comforting glow. You grabbed one of the iron door handles and pushed out into the night air.

It was cold. Nearly biting, the breeze blowing across your face in brief nips over your sensitive skin. Barren trees spotted along the vast lawns of the mansion. Just barely green grass flowed in an ocean of waving blades under the moonlight. The empty duck pond was still, the water calm, where it sat far off to your right.

Directly beneath the balcony was the dried-up vegetable garden Jean liked to maintain. The tomato plants had withered earlier in the month, with the green beans and peas following closely after. Winters in New York were not to be trifled with when it came to gardening.

You leaned against the metal railing. Chilled metal dug into the fabric of your sweatshirt and leeched the cold into your skin. Though, it wasn't uncomfortable. It was grounding. A reminder of where you called home now.

There was a special sort of peace to be found on this balcony. Especially since during the colder months, it often went untouched. The small table and chair off to your left remained vacant for the vast majority of fall and winter. Not many students preferred the view from the balcony over the comfort of the common areas.

Crisp air filled your lungs as you took in your first deep breath. It poured down your throat like cool water, pooling in your chest and spreading through your body. Tendrils of gentle water ran under your skin. Telling you that you were safe, that you were home, that you were loved. The night air often was the exact thing you'd needed to calm your mind.

It seemed easy to forget your past, now that the comforting chill coursed through your body. Days spent locked away from the world were distant memories. Like glimpses of another life through a thick fog. Flashes of chains and blood were tucked safely away behind a wall of moonlight.

"Mind if I join you?"

You spun on your heel to face this intrusion. This brutal slash through the comforting silence you'd so carefully cultivated.

Logan stood in the open doorway. Sweatshirt that matched yours clinging to his chest, jeans hung low on his waist, dark hair styled in those two points that reminded you of cat ears. A playful smirk tugged at his lips.

"Why?" was all that could escape your throat in your startled state. Your palms dug into the rail as you squeezed at the metal behind you.

The smirk remained firmly in place as Logan sauntered through the doorway. His hands were clutched behind his back, the top of his sweatshirt unzipped to expose his bare chest, hazel eyes catching in the moonlight as he looked at you with faint curiosity.

"Figured you could use some company, seeing's as you're out here on your own an' all," he replied easily. He kept a healthy distance from you as he approached. Long fingers trailed over the table's surface, dragging freshly-formed drops of dew in their wake.

You chuckled lightly in an attempt to mask your wariness, "Trying to make friends on your first day?"

"Something like that," he said softly, stepping up next to you near the railing. Thick arms rested on the iron as Logan mimicked your earlier position. One leg crossed over the other, chest leaning on bent elbows, half-lidded eyes surveying the landscape.

Mirroring him, you turned back to the vegetable garden. Wooden stakes jutted up from the earth like small saplings. Dry brush and long-rotted vegetables lay strewn inside the dirt beds.

An easy silence rested between you, disturbed only by the wind rustling the barren branches of nearby trees. Undeniable warmth spread from the man next to you. Like he was a furnace placed on the balcony to make anyone taking in the view nice and cozy. You could nearly feel the heat spreading from his arms and into the railing beneath you.

"You get nightmares too, huh?" Logan finally asked after several quiet minutes. It wasn't unkind, they way he phrased the question. It was more curious. An offering of relation between the two of you.

"Most nights," you answered simply. A low hum of recognition rumbled deep in his chest.

"Every night, for me. Can never remember them, though," he said with a sigh. You noticed the repetitive tap of his pointer finger on the back of his hand. Nervous tick, maybe.

"Seems we're both pretty fucked up," you joked in an attempt to lighten the mood. Logan barked a quiet laugh.

"You could say that again."

The kinship you felt with him was like nothing you'd ever felt before. From what Jean had discovered earlier, Logan couldn't age. Neither could you. Logan had a troubled past he couldn't fully remember. You had a troubled past, but one you remembered all too well. Logan was the product of experimentation and years of heartache. You were the result of decades under the thumb of the U.S. government, forced to torture POWs during WWII.

Maybe there was finally someone who could understand you. Understand what you've been through.

Charles did the best he could. He was the only one in the mansion anywhere near as old as you. Unfortunately, you still had 27 years on the great Professor X.

"Do they have alcohol in this place?" Logan grumbled with a tired groan. His head fell to rest on his forearms. You couldn't help but laugh.

"Not readily available to newcomers, bud. Play your cards right and you may be shown the secret stash," you said with a dramatic whisper. Logan's shoulders shook with a chuckle, shaking his head where it laid on his arms.

"And what cards would those be? We talkin' blackjack, poker, or go fish?" he replied as he straightened his back. Hazel eyes connected with your own. A spark of familiarity flashed in your mind.

Conversation flowed so damn easily with Logan. It was like talking to your reflection. A male, ruggedly handsome, 6'2" without shoes reflection. The sense of relaxation you felt around this man you'd met this morning wasn't a fact to be taken lightly.

Was this part of his mutation? Getting others to trust him? It wouldn't be too far out of left field. Hell, you could pop people like balloons with your mutation. Manipulating others' emotions wasn't that strange of an idea.

"Y'alright, doll? Suddenly got quiet," Logan asked softly, breaking you away from your swirling thoughts.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Sorry, I just... Zone out sometimes," you explained quickly in one breath.

You jumped as a warm hand landed on your shoulder. Strong, heat bleeding from the large palm into your skin. An involuntary shiver rocketed up your spine.

"Seems like I ain't the only one needing a drink," Logan said with a small smile. The effortless kinship that emanated from him was nearly intoxicating. Reeling you in on an invisible fishing line. Clouding your judgement with a haze of quickly developing trust.

You should pull away. Nothing good could come from falling into friendship this fast. Decades of being a mutant had taught you that intentions weren't always what they'd seemed. A person could be offering you a hand only to shove you into oncoming traffic.

"Know what? A drink sounds great right now," you murmured as you stepped back. Logan's hand fell from your shoulder like a dead weight. You turned on your heel to lead him inside.

Maybe if you pumped this guy full of liquor, you'd be able to tell where his head was at. Why was he being so nice to you? Especially after you'd heard how he'd acted around Scott? You hugged your rapidly chilling sweatshirt closer to your body.

Logan Howlett. "The Wolverine." You'd get to the heart of what made him tick soon enough.

and she doooooes >:) i LOVE my babies so much. exploring their relationship in its entirety is SO FUCKING FUN!!!

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: BROKEN + SELF-LOATHING + SCARS🐟✨

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Day 3 - Broken

Prompt: 3 - Broken + 5 - Self-Loathing + 18 - Scars Character: Sam Winchester Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader Word Count: 505 Warnings: Self-loathing, negative self-talk, referenced injury Tags: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland Tuna-Tober Masterlist 2024

Broken

Sam Winchester slipped out of the bed, careful not to wake you. Just because he was too broken to sleep properly didn’t mean you should be deprived of sleep. Especially not for him. You had already given up too much for him.

He still didn’t understand it. Why had you give up your safe, normal life for him? To risk your life hunting monsters for people who would never know or understand your sacrififce. Who would deny all the blood shed in their name. To endure the estrangement of your family and old friends just to join him and Dean on this cursed road. Why?

He understood why Dean did it. He was just as cursed as Sam. There was no escaping this road. Not for them. They had both tried. And Dean was his big brother. He had always tried to protect him. No matter how tired or angry with him that Dean was - and times he had been very much both of those things - he’d never leave Sam to face the world’s evil alone.

Not you. You could have that apple pie life. You could live in a beautiful little house filled with the books and plants that you loved. Not a musty old bunker between a series of cheap hotels. You could have a boyfriend who wasn’t broken. Someone with a real job that could take you out on nice dates. Not a monster who dragged you into the shadows and made you bleed.

It might not be his own two hands that hurt you but it was his fault. You’d never gotten those scars if you had never met him. The obvious ones like the claw marks across your back. But also the invisible ones, the wounds left in the soul by fear and devastating loss.

Without him . . . you’d be safe. Whole. Happy. In love with someone who could put a pretty ring on your finger without fear. Instead of someone who feared putting an even bigger target on your back. Who couldn’t even ask you if you wanted children because he was too terrified of the answer.

You deserved better. Someone worthy of your love. Not a tattered patchwork of a man covered in scars visible and invisible.

But one of his numerous flaws that he was selfish. So when your arms wrapped around him, he couldn’t push you away. He was too greedy to reject the comfort of your body against his. He craved your affection, the pretty words you told him (I’m here . . . I’ve got you, Sammy . . .  I love you . . . you’re a good man, Sam Winchester. I know you don’t want to believe me but you are . . .)

He wanted you to be right. He wished he had your faith that one day, he’d believe those words. He wanted that so badly. It would be so easy to give in.

But Sam was done lying to himself. You deserved better than him. And while he was too selfish to give you up, he was never going to forget that.

Author's Note

This is my first time writing Sam so please let me know what you think.

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✨🐟PROMPT FILLED: "Why? Why do you love me?" + "I'm not good enough." 🐟✨

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Day 2 - For Better and For Worse

Prompt: 2 -“Why? Why do you love me?” + 10 - “I'm not good enough.” Character: Matt Murdock Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader, part of Mrs. Murdock series. Word Count: ~540 Warning(s): Self-loathing, negative self-talk, referenced off-screen violent death, grief Tags: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @yarrystyleeza Tuna-Tober Masterlist

For Better and For Worse

There was more to your husband than met the eye. 

Few who had met Matt Murdock would have liken him to the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. The ferocious vigilante prowling the streets, putting the fear of God into criminals with his fists would seem a far cry from the soft-spoken, mild-mannered defense attorney.

They didn’t see the same thirst for justice. The intense drive that sometimes had Matt working from first light until well past midnight. The determination that led him to fight through pain and exhaustration to save someone. How he bled for every person he couldn’t save, whether it was from violence or the injustice of the system.

They didn’t see the man you married.

And the most heartbreaking thing of all was that sometimes Matt himself couldn’t see that man either. Days where he couldn’t find a single good thing to say about himself.

This was one of those days. Because tonight, despite doing everything in his power, the victim hadn’t made it. Bled out before the ambulance could arrive. Worse, it was someone you had both known. Prue Hamilton, the granddaughter of Mrs. Hamilton from the bakery, who brought cookies to the kids at St. Agnes every Christmas. A beautiful young woman who should have had her whole life ahead of her. Slain while picking up some milk on her way home from work.

Matt blamed himself. Because that was who he was. Pacing the apartment like a trapped tiger, beating himself up in black tirade of bile. He wasn’t fast enough. Strong enough. Powerful enough. All his abilities were useless. He was useless. Why had you married anyone as worthless as him?

“Matty, you aren’t worthless,” you objected, finally able to get a word in edgewise. “And I married you because I love you.”

“Why?” he demanded. There was so much self-loathing in that single word. It broke your heart. “Why do you love me? I’m not good enough.”

“Yes, you are Matt,” you said, wrapping your arms around him. “You have the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. How could I do anything else but love you?””

He remained stiff in your arms, fighting the comfort that he didn’t think he deserved. But he wasn’t the only one who was stubborn. You would stand here all night if that’s what it took. Humming a soft wordless melody, you began to rub his back

Matt might be stubborn but he craved the affection that had been so often lacking from his life. Eventually his body began to relax, becoming looser. Those arms began to rise, then hesitated.

“It’s okay, Matty,” you murmured into his neck. You didn’t care that his hands were covered in drying blood from his desperate attempt to staunch the bleeding. He didn’t need any further encouragement, wrapping his arms around you. Lightly at first, like he was afraid that you would pull away now. Reject him like so many had before you.

You squeezed him tighter in response, silently cursing all the people who had left such deep wounds in your husband’s soul. He squeezed back, burying his face in your neck. You felt more than saw the moment the rage that had been fueling him sputtered out and he began to cry.

✨🐟TUNA-TOBER FIC DETECTED 🐟✨

✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPT FILLED: FLOWER CROWNS 🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

Day 2 - Forget-Me-Nots

Prompt: 2 - Flower Crowns Character: Frank Castle Pairings: Frank Castle x Reader Tags: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland Warnings: Fluff, original child character, reference canon character death, grief Tuna-Tober Masterlist 2024

Forget-Me-Nots

There was something so adorable about your daughter Sophia making flower crowns. She was so serious about it. Asking for very specific flowers. Brows furrowed, the tip of her tongue sticking out as she painstakingly assembled each crown. No mistaking who her father was. Frank got the same look on his face when he did maintenance on his guns.

But your little one was enjoying herself. That proud, little smile when she finished one said it all. Along with the big, ear-to-ear one when she presented each crown to its intended recipient. So far, everyone had accepted theirs and donned them immediately.

Including Frank. He immediately knelt down so his daughter could place the crown on his head. It should have looked absurd. Big Marine with a delicate flower crown on his head with thin blue ribbons trailing down his back. But it didn’t. It looked sweet.

The ribbon matched the tiny flowers. You wondered if Frank recognized them. Forget-me-nots, symbolizing true love, memories, and remembrance. It was rather apt but it was unlikely Sophia knew just how apt. She probably just thought that flowers would look pretty on her daddy.

Which they did. The sky-blue color was a pleasing contrast against his dark hair.

You’d bet a similar logic governed the hibiscus gracing your crown. That she just thought the colorful flowers were pretty. And familiar since you grow them in the garden. But even though it was just coincidence, it’s meaning of being consumed by love was so true. You had never felt so much love as you did now, in your little home with your husband and your daughter.

There was no mystery behind Sophia’s choice of sweet-peas for her own crown. Frank had been calling her sweet-pea since the day she was born.

On the other hand, Sophia had made other apt choices for flowers. Irises for Karen (your friendship means so much to me), sunflowers for Foggy (constancy and devotion), and chrysanthums for Curtis (you are a wonderful friend). Just to name a few.

The love and devotion of lavender for Matt was rather apt but Sophia seemed to have picked it for its sleep-aid properties. Given that she solemnly told him that he needed more naps when she placed the crown on his head. It had taken all of your willpower not to laugh. You were not alone in that regard.

The pale purple flowers seemed to be working their magic. Your boss was practically dozing on your couch, his head pillowed against Karen’s shoulder. Which was rather amazing considering that was Sophia and her friends had set up shop just feet away in the kitchen. And they weren’t being quiet.

Speaking of Sophia, she was tugging at Frank’s hand, “Daddy, daddy, I need your help!”

“Sure, sweet-pea,” he said, allowing himself to be tugged toward the crown making. You followed the pair, curious. Sophia had been very adamant about making her crowns herself, that she was a big girl.

On the table in front of her chair, you could see the beginnings of another flower crown. This one also featured forget-me-nots.

“What do you need, sweet pea?”

“Lisa’s favorite flower!”

You felt your breathe catch. There wasn’t anyone at this party with that name. There was only one Lisa she could be talking about.

“Lisa’s favorite flower?” Frank repeated. His voice was surprisingly even. Provided that you didn’t know him. You, however, could hear the brittleness. Frank might sound calm but he wasn’t feeling calm. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Curtis drift closer.

“Yes, for her crown.”

Frank took a deep breath. “Baby, Lisa’s in Heaven. She can’t wear a flower crown.”

This time he couldn’t keep the pain out of his voice. You put your arm around your husband’s waist, silently offering your support. His body felt like stone under your hands. But he put his arm over your shoulder, pulling you close to him.

“I know,” Sophia said. She looked up at you both with those big brown eyes. Frank’s eyes. Her expression was unusually somber. “But she was my sister. She deserves a crown too.”

“Yeah,” Frank said, his voice thick with unshed tears. “You’re right, sweet-pea. Lisa deserves her crown.”

He looked over the collection of flowers. His hands shook a little when he gathered up the yellow roses, handing them over to Sophia. Who took them with a little smile for her father. Silently she became to weave the roses amongst the forget-me-nots. The same flowers she had gifted Frank.

You weren’t surprised when Frank excused himself, claiming that he had to use the bathroom. Nor that his eyes were red when he returned. But he smiled when Sophia showed him Lisa’s crown. “It’s beautiful, sweet-pea. Lisa would have loved it.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Yellow roses mean friendship and remember me.

✨🐟TUNA-TOBER FIC DETECTED 🐟✨

✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPT FILLED: READING TO EACH OTHER 🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

Reading to Each Other 🪻

day one of tuna tober y'all!! i'm SO fricking excited! :D

Ship: Duke Leopold Mountbatten x f!Reader

Rating: 13+

Wordcount: 1.3k

Warnings: lots of LOTR, tobacco mention, riddles, kissing, cuddles

Series: Leg's Tuna Tober

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon. Rain pattered on your apartment's windows, the occasional roll of thunder booming outside. The spiced scent of your pumpkin candle floated through the living room air. Warm light shone from shaded lamps positioned on either end of your green-clothed sofa. A thick, soft blanket was draped over your lap.

You held your worn copy of The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien. Images of a dark cave filled with still water and an eerie sense of calm floated from the yellowed pages. Sounds of whispered riddles and shaking hands holding shining jewelry bounced around inside your head. It was nearly impossible to read Tolkien and not get entirely engrossed.

"How's your book?" Leo asked from the other end of the couch.

You nearly jumped out of your skin. Your head snapped up from where you'd been hunched over your book, eyes wide, as you met Leo's amused gaze. A light laugh filtered through his bright smile.

"Sorry! Didn't mean to alarm you," he said, amusement clearly indicating that he wasn't sorry in the slightest. You shook your head and sighed at his antics.

"Uh huh. Sure," you groused with a growing smile.

Leo was equally curled up on his side of the sofa. Fluffy blanket draped across his lap, glasses fitted over his thin nose, copy of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen balanced in one of his hands. Hazel eyes trailed over the "grumpy" expression you'd forced over your face.

"Anything interesting standing out so far?" he asked, nodding to the book still clutched in your hands.

"I'm at one of my favorite parts, if that's what you mean," you replied as you burrowed deeper into the couch cushions. Leo tucked his bookmark into his novel, then set the book and his glasses on the end table nearest him.

"Care to elaborate?" he pressed with a cocked eyebrow. You bit your lip as you scanned over the pages again. Hisses and riddles and splashes of ground water leapt from the ink. Hmm. Riddles.

"Well, this part is about Bilbo bargaining, with a creature named Gollum, for his life. They're exchanging riddles as a sort of game," you explained, trying your best to not confuse a man who'd never heard of the Lord of the Rings.

"And what riddles are they?" Leo asked with a growing smile. He crossed his legs under his blanket to give you his undivided attention. You glanced between him and the book in your hands.

"You want to try and solve the riddles, or do you want me to read the whole part?"

"Just the riddles," he specified. You hummed in response.

"Alright, just know that they can get pretty tricky," you said in a singsong manner. Leo stared at you with apt interest as you turned to the correct page in your book. Inked words flew past your eyes, descriptions of swords and hobbits and tobacco and goblins filling your mind, nearly sucking you back into the story, before you found the first riddle. You cleared your throat and read, "What has roots as nobody sees, is taller than trees, up, up it goes, and yet never grows?"

"Has to be a mountain, isn't it?" Leo guessed almost immediately. He seemed rather confident in his answer, dimples digging into his cheeks with how wide his smile had stretched.

"Yup. Mountain," you answered, already thinking of which riddle to do next. Do you be nice and keep giving him the easier ones, or kick it up a notch? He did invent the elevator, after all.

"Give us a harder one, love," he said. That decides it for you, then.

"It cannot be seen, cannot be felt. Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt. It lies behind stars and under hills, and empty holes it fills. It comes first and follows after, ends life, kills laughter."

Leo blew out a long stream of air, "When I said hard, I didn't mean that hard!"

You refrained from making the obvious joke brewing at the back of your throat. An involuntary giggle leaked from your lips. You tried to play it off by resting your chin in your hand, fingers digging into your lips, to keep yourself quiet.

The room was quiet for a few moments as Leo considered the riddle. Raindrops trailed down the window, rivulets chasing each other and creating long tails that winded up the glass. This Sunday, utterly serene in its quality, was one of many you'd gotten to experience with Leo. Something about him just garnered peace in your life.

"Do I get a hint?" he asked with a sigh. You grinned at him from under your fingers.

"If Bilbo doesn't get a hint, neither do you," you said. Leo groaned, leaning back on the sofa and throwing an arm over his face. You couldn't help the laugh that breezed between your fingers.

"You are undeniably cruel," he grumbled under his arm.

"You wanted a harder riddle," you replied with a shrug. Leo grunted in return, making you laugh again. You waited a few more moments, letting him agonize over the riddle, before you decided to take pity, "What is it when your eyes are closed?"

"The hell are you on about? Is this a part two to the riddle?" Leo groused.

The blanket in your lap pooled into a pile on the floor as you crawled across the couch. Your sweatpants-clad legs framed Leo's hips, your hands running up his sides, as you sat in his lap. He begrudgingly lowered his arm and met your eyes.

"That was a clue. What do you see when you close your eyes?" you repeated as you ran your palms up and down his forearms. Leo's expression softened slightly.

"A spot of mercy," he said, smile returning, "I was wrong in labeling you cruel."

"Yeah yeah, Mr.1876. Just answer the damn riddle," you said as you rolled your eyes. Leo's warm palms found their usual place on your hips.

"You can't see it, feel it, hear it, or smell it. And closing my eyes has something to do with it," he listed, tongue darting across his bottom lip. A few more moments filled with pondering passed.

"For god's sake," you breathed as you clapped your hand over his eyes. The two of you had been together for so long that the action had hardly surprised him. You waited for a moment in hope that this obvious clue would help. Being met with only silence, you said, "What do you see right now?"

"Your hand, for one," Leo quipped back. He flinched with a laugh when you pinched him with your free hand.

"Close your frickin' eyes, Leo."

Silence settled over the two of you. Warm, comfortable, charged with amusement at your situation. Only Leo's smile could be seen from under your hand. His thumbs tucked under the hem of your t-shirt.

"It's dark," he finally said. You gave him a few moments to connect the dots. A gasp shook his chest, "Dark! That's the answer!"

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner!" you exclaimed as you dropped your hand from his eyes.

Pure elation crinkled in the corners of his hazel eyes. He hugged you closer to his chest, a laugh shaking where your bodies met. You couldn't help but join in. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders to steady yourself.

"Do I get a prize for so effortlessly solving the riddle?" Leo asked with a hint of sarcasm after the two of you had calmed a bit.

"I'm deducting points for the use of a hint," you hummed, feigning consideration at his question.

"And those points, will they affect the prize I know I've earned?"

You answered his question by pressing your lips to his. Both smiling, both clinging to the other with absolute adoration, the occasional giggle buzzing between you.

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon. It was raining outside, your candle had burnt down to the wick, and you were cradled in Leo's lap as you both read your respective books. Your back to his chest, blanket draped over both of your laps, his cheek rested on the crown of your head. Every now and then you'd read a part of your book aloud, garnering the same in return from Leo.

AHHHHHHHHH this is so frickin cute i might CRY!!! happy tuna tober everyone!!!

🌊TUNA-TOBER🌊 PROMPT CHALLENGE 2024

Hello friends! Are you looking for a prompt challenge for 2024, but don't really feel the desire to stick to only one genre? Does your sole feel betta suited to taking on a prompt challenge that provides options for kink, fluff, AND angst? Or, are you just looking to see what delicious fics or art might spawn from some of the gill-iant minds of a few writers and artists on tumblr? Whale, here's your chance!

(fine, I'll put away the puns, just know I did it on porpoise)

Started by the Murdock's Tuna Team discord server, the Tuna-Tober Prompt Challenge is a unique fic/art challenge, in which for every day in October, you are provided one of three prompts: a kink prompt, a fluff prompt, and a whump/angst prompt. Like many other 'Tober prompt challenges, it isn't mandatory to complete all the prompts. You're free to choose as you please! Do one! Do ten! Do one a day! Do them all! Mix and swap as needed! The Tuna-Tober Prompt Challenge is meant to stir your creativity, not fill you with stress. There also is no fandom or character requirement, so chase that muse where She leads you. In addition to our three prompts for each day of October, there are also four sets of backup prompts, just in case you hit a day where you just ain't feeling the three that were provided.

This blog isn't just for the rules, however. It'll also be reblogging any Tuna-Tober fics or art that our lovely team of writers and artists complete so we can keep them all in one place! If you'd like to read those fics, all you have to do is give us a follow. And if you really don't want to miss anything, feel free to set us for notifications!

If you're taking part in Tuna-Tober, either as a writer or an artist, please remember to tag your fic or art: Tuna-Tober 2024. That way I can find your fics or art to reblog. If you only post on AO3, you can also make a post here on tumblr linking to it (remember to tag it), and I can reblog that. Once I have the time, I'll set up a collection on AO3 that'll gather up any fics or art we have there, too! ❤️

Without further ado, our prompts!

Day 1: Falling Asleep In A Hospital Room ⚜ Reading To Each Other ⚜ Somnophilia

Day 2: “Why? Why do you love me?” ⚜ Flower Crowns ⚜ Mutual Masturbation

Day 3: Broken ⚜ “I feel real when i’m with you.” ⚜ Role Reversal

Day 4: “This isn’t you.” ⚜ “Are you blushing?” ⚜ Sixty-Nine

Day 5: Self-Loathing ⚜ Watergun Fight ⚜ Begging

Day 6: "Shh, I've got you now. I'm here." ⚜ Love Bites ⚜ “Spread your legs for me.”

Day 7: Nightmare ⚜ Honest Apology ⚜ Nothing Underneath

Day 8: Shaking ⚜ “You can sleep here tonight.” ⚜ Overstimulation

Day 9: Anxiety ⚜ “You don’t need to do that.” “I want to.” ⚜ “Open your mouth.”

Day 10: "I'm not good enough." ⚜ A Hug That Lasts A Little Too Long ⚜ Strap-on/Pegging

Day 11: Tears ⚜ “I’d be lost without you.” ⚜ Breast Worship

Day 12: "I did it for you.” ⚜ “You remembered?” ⚜ Deep-Throating

Day 13: Loneliness ⚜ Playful Kiss ⚜ “Beg me for it.”

Day 14: "Please look at me." ⚜ Sleep Talking ⚜ Accidental Stimulation

Day 15: Hiding An Injury ⚜ “Are you jealous?” ⚜ Threesome

Day 16: Exhaustion ⚜ Accidental Kiss ⚜ Against A Window

Day 17: "I'm not leaving you." ⚜ Tickling ⚜ “Touch yourself for me.”

Day 18: Scars ⚜ Pillow Fort ⚜ “I’m so proud of you, you’re taking me so well.”

Day 19: Touch starved ⚜ “I’ll always be there for you.” ⚜ Gags

Day 20: "Who did this to you?" ⚜ There Was Only One Bed ⚜ “You were made for me, weren’t you?”

Day 21: Fainting/Collapsing ⚜ Flustered ⚜ “Was that an order?”

Day 22: "You haven't done anything wrong." ⚜ Breathless Kiss ⚜ Aphrodisiacs

Day 23: Father ⚜ “If you won’t take care of yourself, I will.” ⚜ Toys

Day 24: Drugged ⚜ Drunken Confession ⚜ “Shh, do you want them to hear us?”

Day 25: "What's Wrong?" ⚜ Playing With Their Hair ⚜ “Did I say you could do that?”

Day 26: "You're not fine." ⚜ “Shut up and kiss me.” ⚜ Under The Desk

Day 27: Near Death Experience ⚜ Overheard Confession ⚜ “Let me see what that pretty mouth can do.”

Day 28: Chronic Pain ⚜ Sharing An Umbrella ⚜ Hair Pulling

Day 29: "Talk to me, please." ⚜ Forehead Kiss ⚜ Restraints

Day 30: Healing ⚜ Road Trip ⚜ “Take it off. Slowly.”

Day 31: "Why wasn't I enough?" ⚜ Blanket Hog ⚜ Stockings/Thigh Highs

🌊Tuna-Tober🌊 Backup Prompts:

Bound/Chained ⚜ Moving In Together ⚜ Almost Getting Caught

"Take me instead." ⚜ “I’m in love with you, and that scares me.” ⚜ High Heels

Insomnia ⚜ Adopting A Pet ⚜ Scent Marking

"You're not alone." ⚜ Playing A Game Together ⚜ Ass Worship