They're Goofin

they're goofin

───────────────

Imagine your farm hands' surprise when they find out that your owners purchased several bull hybrids.

It was a spur of the moment decision: there was a nearby farm that was shutting down and about four bull hybrids had nowhere to go. Your owners, being the sweet people they were, decided to give them a home. They already had a cow hybrid—i.e. you—so taking care of bull hybrids shouldn't be that different, right?

It was a big adjustment having four bulls added to your barn. They were all so similar and yet so different, and you found your brain fuzzy when you tried to keep track of all of them. They were big and noisy and were already friends with each other, making you feel left out. You often found yourself alone in your pen or out in the field, the four bulls hanging out at the opposite end. Of course, one or two were polite enough to invite you over, but you never stayed long, feeling unwelcome in their tight knit group.

Yes, it would seem that your new roommates just weren't interested in you. You supposed that was fine, you still had your farmhands who gave you plenty of attention, you didn't need to be friends with those bulls.

But then your heat came around, and things quickly changed.

Your heat started in the middle of the day. You were alone in the barn when you felt a tingling sensation run down your spine, your cunt twitching to life, weeping slick down your thighs. You whined for your farmhands, begging them to come take care of you. You couldn't help but present yourself in the empty barn, so hot and sticky, your pussy aching to be filled.

"Y/N?"

You froze, slowly glancing over your shoulder, eyes meeting one of the bulls. He must have come back from the pasture early today; maybe he forgot something. It didn't matter really: you could already tell where this was going to go.

The bull sniffed the air, his tail twitching, eyes crossing oh so slightly.

"Yer—shit, are ya in heat?"

You whined, trying not to wave your hips back and forth, forcing yourself to stay still. Despite your efforts to not tempt him, the bull was already seduced by your scent, making his way into the barn, his cock beginning to stand at attention.

"Ya need help? Huh? Need to be filled up?"

You hiccuped, biting your lip, pushing down a moan when he kneeled behind you and grabbed your hips.

"I-I'm fine! The farm boys will help me; you don't have to—"

"The farm boys?" He clicked his tongue. "Nah, they won't be able to help ya, sweetcheeks. They can't give ya what ya need. But me—" he began running the head of his cock through your folds, "—I can give it to ya real good."

"W-Wait, I—"

"Shhhh, just relax, pretty baby. Lemme fill ya up nice and good."

And fill you up he did. He pushed his cock in steadily, his thick girth splitting you open, reaching every inch of your gummy walls. You cried out, hands curling in the hay beneath you, back arching. His hips met yours, his cock bumping up against your cervix, leaving you dizzy.

"See? What'd I tell ya? Ya don't need no farm boys—ya got a real bull right here."

With that, he pulled out, slamming back into you. You gasped, bracing yourself for his harsh thrusts, scrambling for purchase on the dirt floor. His thrusts were hard, rough, his balls making pap pap pap noises as they slapped against your soaking cunt. You could feel a fire burning in your belly, toes curling as you felt it rise higher and higher, eyes rolling back as you tumbled over the edge. You came with a wail, cunt spasming around the bull's heavy cock, his hips not stopping as you creamed around his dick.

"What's goin on—"

The bull's voice died out as he saw the two of you before him, his friend's cock stuffed deep inside your pretty little cunt. He watched in amazement as his friend leaned over you, thrusting even faster than before, making you cry out with each slam of his hips against yours. The bull approached the two of you, staring as his friend finished off, pushing his hips flush to yours and cumming inside, filling your womb with his seed, his cum overflowing around the sides.

"Woah," he whispered in awe. "That's a lotta cum."

"Sure is," the first bull exclaimed, pulling out and watching his cum leak out of you. "This'll definitely get her pregnant."

The second bull scoffed, pulling on his friend's shoulder, kneeling behind you. He manhandled you until your hips were presented to him, his now-hard cock rubbing up against your folds.

"Betcha my cum will get 'er pregnant first."

"Yeah right! My sperm is way stronger!"

The second bull pushed into you, filling you up, pushing out the cum from the first bull. Loud squelching filled the room as he began thrusting into you, his hands digging into your plush hips, bound to leave marks behind. You moaned weakly, letting him have his way with you, barely registering that he and the first bull were still arguing over who would get you pregnant.

"What's goin on in here?"

You raised your head as best as you could, making out the silhouette of the other two bulls walking into the barn.

"We're just makin a bet on who can get Y/N pregnant first."

"And I'm gonna win in just a bit."

"Shut up—"

"Psshhh, yall think you can get her pregnant? I'd bet a whole barrel of apples that I can get her pregnant before all of yall."

"Oh, buddy, I'd have a way better chance than you."

The four bulls began arguing above you, the bull inside you still stirring up your insides, soon making you cum on his cock.

"Oh shit, she's tight—"

The second bull came inside you, but you weren't given time to breathe before another bull pulled you towards him and mounted you.

That's how it went the rest of the night: the four large bulls in a circle, passing you around and fucking you until they came inside, fucking the other bulls' cum out of you. They continued making bets, upping the stakes, arguing over who would be strong enough to get you pregnant. By the time your farmhands come by to check on you, you're collapsed on the floor, a gallon of cum spilled down your thighs.

You thought that would be the end of it, that the bulls would lose interest in you and go back to focusing on themselves, but they surprised you. After they fucked you senseless, they started doting on you, following you wherever you went, questioning you about your likes and interests. You thought they were just being polite, being friendly after they fucked you so much, but one day you heard them arguing in the barn.

"No, I'm gonna be her mate."

"No way, I came in her first."

"I came in her the most."

"As if."

"Alright, alright, that's enough. What if we just shared her? Ya know, took turns and stuff?"

"What the fuck?"

"No way in hell."

"Well... maybe it wouldn't be too bad. At least then we'd get to have her and nobody's feelings would get hurt."

"Yeah, and just imagine it: we could take turns looking out for her and we wouldn't get tired out."

"Plus, we know she takes us all like a champ."

"Yer right, I've never seen a heifer take four bulls before."

You tried to lean closer to hear better, but you ended up knocking over a spading fork in the process. It fell with a loud clang, making the bull's jump and turn rapidly.

"Y/N?"

"What're ya doin, baby?"

"I-I'm sorry!" you stuttered. "I'm sorry for eavesdropping, I just—"

"Awww, you were eavesdropping?? Naughty girl."

The other bulls caught on, smirking as they all began to approach you.

"Y/N, Y/N, shame on you for listening in on us."

"Naughty thing."

"We oughta teach you a lesson, huh?"

"Yeah, gotta teach this bad girl some manners."

You were surrounded with nowhere to go, the four bulls towering over you, their cocks growing with each passing second. And before you could try to defend yourself for listening to their conversation, they were already coaxing you onto your hands and knees, arguing over who got to fuck you first.

Safe to say, you're gonna have to get used to your new farm mates.

───────────────

4K notes View Post

glass-rats

1 year ago

48K notes View Post

glass-rats

7 months ago

I cant come to your birthday there's a big ass skullll flying araound

36K notes View Post

glass-rats

9 months ago

dig your claws right into me ♡

logan howlett x fem!reader

logan hurts you when he has a nightmare. now you both have to deal with the fallout.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, descriptions of nightmare, injury, and blood

a/n: reader is a mutant but i didn't specify her powers so you can imagine what you want. just some sickly sweet intimacy cause that's what i was feeling tonight <3

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

The words come out whispered as Logan's lips press against the three tiny bumps of developing scar tissue on your abdomen.

"I already told you that you don't have to be sorry," you say. Your voice drifts into the space between the two of you as soft as the movements of your fingers running through his hair.

"Well I am, bub. You should want me to be."

Each one of his hands rests upon either side of your waist. His fingers squish against your flesh while his eyes stare at the scars on your belly. He gazes at them like the small marks, all equidistant from one another, could be willed away by his harsh look. He hated the fact that they were there at all. Even worse, that he was the one who gave them to you.

"But it was an accident," you respond, giving one of the tufts of his hair a gentle tug.

His dark pupils flit up to look at your face. "Doesn't matter. It being an accident doesn't change the fact that you're gonna have these marks forever. I wouldn't care that it was accidental if I'd killed you."

He remembers the night it happened that seemed like a real possibility.

His light sleep had been interrupted by a nightmare. Over the time that had passed between then and now, it'd become indistinct from all the others he experiences regularly. The only difference between that one and the ones he'd had since he'd started sleeping next to you each night was the intensity. That night had been rough. Normally when he slept in your room, he seemed to be able to tone it down. Almost as if his brain knew to not act up while your relationship was still starting to blossom.

But two weeks ago, his mind didn't care. It flash-banged him with the usual images of himself in that tank. The searing, splitting pain of the adamantium attaching itself to his bones.

Usually, if he had a nightmare beside you, he'd grunt and twitch, maybe shift around a little. That night though, you got to see the whole performance. The tossing and turning, sweating and moaning, tense limbs and scrunched up face.

Poor, sweet, innocent you thought that you could just wake him up. Your hands nudged at his bicep and shoulder as you gently cooed "Logan. It's just a dream."

In the end, your tenderness didn't matter. When he actually came to, your anguished cry was all that registered. And then he felt the sharp heat between his knuckles that meant the claws were out. His heart dropped and his vision nearly blacked out. He couldn't have.

He retracted them as quickly as they'd appeared and pulled back to look at you. Crimson flooded the gray t-shirt you'd worn to bed. The three little spots spread into large blooms of scarlet. Your hands flew to the spot to clutch at it, but they did nothing to stop the warm liquid from spilling out.

"No, no, no, fuck," he'd whispered frantically as his mind raced for a solution.

Your cries morphed into whimpers. Soft and vulnerable. Like a prey animal that'd been fatally wounded but not put out of its misery. Blood seeped out onto your bedding, and it was then that he rocketed off the mattress and scooped you up into his arms.

Fortunately, Scott, Jean, and Storm were already outside the door in the hall, having heard the scream. A gathering of students lingered behind them as well. Shame coursed through his veins, albeit dulled by the panic. He remembered thinking it was stupid, but after the adrenaline left his system, it was the dominant emotion he was left with. Ashamed was the only word that could describe holding the knowledge that everyone here now saw he was capable of hurting the woman he loves. Maybe he was no better than an animal.

In truth, shame was all he felt now. So much relief settled over him since you'd made it out alive. Thanks to the enhanced physical capabilities from your mutation and Jean's adequate medical skills, these scars would be the only lasting effect of the wounds.

He'd rushed you down to the infirmary faster than he'd ever moved in a non-combat situation. His feet thundered down the stairs, a part of him withering to ash with each little whimper you let out as the motion jostled your body around.

"I'm sorry, bub. Almost there. We're almost there. You're gonna be ok," he'd mumbled out thoughtlessly, saying anything he could that would bring you even a shred of comfort.

He kept your hand in his the entire time you were down there on the cold examination table. His grip stayed firm. He wouldn't let the anxiety over your well being consume him. This was his fault, and now you needed him. He didn't get to be worried or upset or anything that wasn't in support of you.

When you howled in pain, he winced as if he was the one being treated. You cried for him, choking out "Logan" through tears over and over. It tore him apart inside. All he could do to soothe you was stroke your cheek and murmur reassurances in your ear.

"Shh, shh, shh. You're doing so good, baby. My strong girl. Being so brave."

He usually reserved affection for private moments, but in those painful seconds, it felt like you two were the only ones in the room.

These thoughts running through his head display across his face. The way his cheek squishes against your tummy and his eyes vacantly stare at the wall opposite his bed. You told him the next day that everything transformed into a blur in your mind. You remembered the feeling of being stabbed and the sight of him panicking, but beyond that nothing specific stayed. You knew he held you and talked to you even though you couldn't recall an individual thing he said or did.

That was fine with him. He listened to you tell the story from your perspective. You spoke with your normal cadence, the usual happy glow in your eyes, and the same animated gestures coming from your hands. His eyes lingered on your torso though. The bandages peeking out from underneath your clean camisole he'd changed you into.

Every last detail of the incident was etched into the deepest part of his psyche. Most likely stored away as material for future nightmares. As much as he hated it, he figured that's the way it should be. He didn't deserve the peace that comes with forgetting.

For the first week after it'd happened, he wouldn't sleep with you. He'd stay with you, cuddled against your body, until you drifted off. Then he'd get up and skulk back to his own room, leaving you cold and alone on your bed.

Eventually after a few more days, you got him to try it out again, but he'd only do it in his own room. It was hard for him to be in yours. New sheets covered your foamy mattress now since the blood wouldn't wash out of the old set. Each brush of the novel material against his skin was just a rose-printed reminder of what he'd done to you.

He's snapped out of his recollection when your voice returns to the original conversation.

"None of that stuff happened though. You didn't kill me, and you're not going to. I'll be more careful next time," you break the silence with a gentle reassurance.

Next time. That's what hurts the worst. You knew this would happen again. You'd promised that when it did you wouldn't try to wake him. Wouldn't touch him or do anything that could set him off. Just give him his space and let him work through it.

"I don't even want you worrying about being careful when you're trying to sleep," he grumbles.

Your nails scrape over his scalp, making his eyes flutter. A deep sigh leaves him. As much as he hated himself for all of this, he could never help easing up under your touch.

"You're worth it."

Three words you said so often. He never believed them, but that didn't stop you from repeating them like a slogan. Instead of arguing with you over the validity of the statement, he stays silent. Replaces any verbal response with a physical one by nuzzling into the warmth of your stomach and laying kisses around your navel.

You watch the affectionate gesture and trail your fingers down to the nape of his neck, massaging the tender skin there.

"You are," you whisper, "One mistake doesn't define you. Doesn't change how I see you."

"It's not just a simple mistake-" he starts.

"Yes it is," you interject, trying to nip his self doubt in the bud.

"It's not. It's not like I forgot your birthday or left my wallet behind when taking you out."

"It's still an accident. The severity doesn't change the intention. Would you hate me if my powers acted up and hurt you?"

God, you could be just as stubborn as him. It grated on his already frayed nerves. He shifts to look up at you fully. And some of that building tension dissolves upon seeing the earnest look on your face.

"It's not the same. Anything you did to me, I would heal," he says.

"I'm healing too. I'm just not as fast as you," you respond. You actually smile as if this is some lighthearted matter. Of course you knew it wasn't the same. You presented no danger to him whereas if he'd nicked you an inch to the left, he might be talking to your headstone right now instead of you. That wasn't the point though.

He shakes his head. "It's different, bub. But I'm not even saying you should hate me..."

In truth, he didn't know what he was saying. If he wanted you to hate him or stay away from him, he could be the one to break things off. But he was still right here, arms wrapped around you and head hovering inches away from your body.

"I just think you should be more cautious than you're being," he finishes, "I don't want you to think you have to put up with this."

You frown and pet his hair. "I don't think that."

"I'm not trying to lecture you, baby," he sighs, "I just don't want to hurt you again."

He could certainly flaunt a pair of puppy eyes when he wanted to. The way he was looking up at you now made him seem so sad and wounded. Like a dog who can't control when he bites but gets kicked aside for it all the same.

"You're not going to. We'll be careful. It was an accident," you say, tone almost pleading, "You're still my Logan."

To go along with your words, you pull on one of his arms, beckoning him closer. He complies with your request and scales your body so that the two of you are aligned. You stare up into his eyes and the whirlpools of emotion within them. Your hand lands on his cheek, your thumb stroking back and forth in small swipes.

"I'm not gonna let you pull away cause of this," you whisper, "It wasn't your fault. You don't choose to have those dreams."

You can tell he wants to argue, but he struggles to find the words. Indirectly cutting him off, you guide his head closer to yours. His face slots against the crook of your neck, and yours does the same in his. You nuzzle him there, breathing in the rich, musky scent of him.

"You're not wrong for wanting to be happy. You don't deserve to be alone," you say and kiss below his ear.

The words make him ache from within. His metal bones vibrate with the weight of possibility of that being true while his heartbeat feels as though it stutters between his ribs. He wants to huff and say that he knows, that he doesn't need you psychoanalyzing him, thank you very much. But none of that will come out. So instead he chuckles. He tries to make it sound smooth; although, the awkwardness is apparent in each bit.

He pulls back a little and smirks down at you. "So you think I'm cut out for being gentle? Is that it?"

You know what he's doing. As closed off as he tries to be, you don't need telepathy to sense what he's feeling. You let him play it off with a joke though. If he's joking, he's not drowning in self-pity, which is all you want.

"Mhm, I know you are," you say and nose at his cheek, kissing the spot on it without facial hair, "You may have claws, but you purr like a kitten when I have my hands on you."

His eyes roll when you say that. He leans down and begins to return some of your loving gestures.

"Don't go telling people that. It's only for you," he murmurs.

"Of course, of course," you say with the same subtle playfulness.

Words die out in favor of using your mouths for better things. The kisses are lazy, built more off of love and adoration rather than lust and passion. One of your arms loops over his shoulders to keep him close while your other rubs at his side. The tip of his nose brushes your earlobe as he lowers to kiss down your throat.

His lips meet your pulse point and the divots in your neck that make you shudder when touched. He's familiar with all your secret spots by now. He plays you better than any instrument. His breath fans over your skin as his teeth scrape against the same flesh. His hands work below, squeezing your waist, fingertips leaving little bumps in their wake.

The hand of yours that had been on his side drifts further down and wiggles its way between your two bodies. Your digits stroke his pelvis above the area his cock would soon begin to harden.

A groan reverberates through his chest as his shaft rises to attention. From this angle, the pads of your fingers can reach the tip. You rub on it with light pressure, up and down. That gets him to repeat the groan, only this time the undertone of need is more prominent.

His lips latch onto your neck to work a little mark onto your skin while he pushes the waistband of his sweatpants down his thighs. You were only wearing a cropped t-shirt and panties, already easily accessible.

He nudges your thighs apart further and grinds his bulge over your mound. The heat from both your aching centers grows hotter with the friction. Arching your back off the bed, you whimper softly for further satisfaction. He presses you back down using his larger stature.

"Patience, sweetheart. Being gentle, remember?"

He only teases you with a few more grinds of his hips before his boxers vanish too and his heavy cock rests against the soft fabric of your panties. You feel the familiar thickness at first. Then his fingers swoop down and pull your panties to the side so he can slot the drippy tip against your folds. Precum smears against your slick, velvety skin.

Seconds later he splits you open. He bites his lip while you whine, his fat cock pushing further into your wanting hole. You squeeze around him. Your walls clamp and contract on his length. It doesn't push him out, merely sucks him further in. He chokes out a low moan from how tight you get.

So tight and so wet. Arousal oozes from you in no short supply. It didn't take much to get you going for Logan. A few touches alone had you leaking like a broken faucet. You whimper as he bottoms out, hips jerking as the head taps your cervix. He always gets so deep it's nearly unbearable. Even when he's going slow like he is now, he's all you can think of. He fills you up down there and occupies all the space in your head.

"Feel good, baby?" he asks.

You nod, unable to respond verbally as you adjust to the intrusion.

He doesn't give you a prolonged period of time to adapt right now. Normally he would, but most other times, he'd be going much faster than he plans to at this moment. Typically, he'd let you get comfy with the stretch before drawing his hips back and then pumping them forward again. He'd slam in and out of you. It'd be loud with the sound of skin clapping combined with your moans and his growls. It'd be rough and quick. The bed would shake and bobble around with the force of him.

But tonight, none of that happens. He barely even pulls out to thrust. He stays nice and deep, grinding his hips rather than fucking himself in and out of you. You whine in sweet stretches of sound. He sighs and grunts against your neck. Neither of you sound like feral animals going into heat.

You loved when you fucked like that, but right now, both of you needed this. Each roll of his hips felt like a stroke of heaven brushing your insides. Your limbs curl around him tighter to keep him close. Your arms guard his neck while your legs dig into his hips. He's so lost in the feeling of you, he can't even tell where he ends and you begin.

"Tell me how it feels. Need to hear you. Wanna know I'm doing it how you need," he mumbles.

"Feels perfect," you whimper in return, "So fuckin' deep."

"Good. I only ever wanna make you feel good."

You nod, knowing it's the truth. "Anyone can hurt me, but only you know how to make me feel like this."

His eyes scrunch up at your words. He just feels lucky he has his face buried against your skin so you can't see. It had been just what he needed to hear. Boosting himself onto his knees a bit more to gain some leverage, he grips your hips and ruts against you with the slightest bit more force.

You whine at the soothing rhythm in which your bodies rock. The sense of satisfaction brought on from this took root in the deepest pit of your belly. You weren't gonna explode like you often did. Probably wouldn't scream or scratch up his back. But you could tell you were gonna cum hard.

Without saying it, he communicates he feels the same. His lack of usual dirty talk tells you everything you need to know. His cock stays nestled deep inside your pussy as he works you both to the edge. His face remains flush against your neck.

You cum first, and he follows right behind. You tighten up, toes curling and a high mewl echoing out of your throat. Your body shivers. He spills his release inside of you, his energy leaving with the sticky ropes of cum that fire.

He goes boneless on top of you, still cherishing the feeling of your skin on his. His breaths feel cool against your sweating skin.

"My baby," he sighs. His eyes flutter shut. He knows he has to pull out before he knocks out for a while, but he can do that in a second. He just needs a few more minutes of this.

You press a few kisses to the side of his head and rub his back. His hand slides between both your abdomen to touch the scars, reminding himself what he's capable of despite his current tenderness.

After a few moments, he pulls out and slumps to the side of you. You peck his lips and take the acquisition of space as a way to cool off. His eyes are drooping already. It feels good seeing him so relaxed. You kiss the space between his brows, then the bridge of his knows, and end on his lips.

"Sweet dreams," you whisper, wishing that would be enough to keep the nightmares at bay. At least for tonight.

2K notes View Post

glass-rats

1 year ago

LEGO - Rubber Duck

286K notes View Post

glass-rats

1 year ago

A Gift from the Gods (5)

Hiccup x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: None that I can think of

Previous Chapter .~.~. Next Chapter

“Can you stretch your left wing a bit more?”

The voice belonged to Hiccup, who stood behind you while drawing in a sketchbook. Following his directions silently, you lift your left wing as prompted while your gaze remains on the wall ahead of you. It had been four days since you’d been taken to Dragon’s Edge and decided to stay as long as the dragon riders would let you.

The first two days were rough in terms of getting accustomed to being around other people after years of being surrounded only by dragons. You mainly stuck by Hiccup’s side, finding his presence the most comforting of the dragon riders. It also helped that Toothless seemed to be growing fond of you.

The others were still curious about you and your existence, except for Astrid, who remained cautious since your arrival. She never talked to you besides a few words here and there, sticking to watching you from the sidelines as if expecting an attack from you at any second.

You understood where her feelings were coming from. This group was her pack. You’ve seen dragons kill others to protect their pack when they felt it was being threatened.

Snotlout and the twins were still an enigma to you, especially the twins. Snotlout was loud and crass, saying words that made your stomach churn uncomfortably and your heckles rise. The twins were a mystery, always showing up when you least expected them and causing your fight or flight to kick in. You’ve accidentally hit Tuffnut with your wings a few times out of shock. He seemed to weirdly like the pain.

Besides Hiccup, Fishlegs was one that you were slowly growing accustomed to. While touring the island, he realized you didn’t know the names of dragon species when he heard you call a wild monstrous nightmare a ‘Flame.’ He decided then and there that he would teach you these things from something called “The Book of Dragons.” His teachings started a day ago.

Now, here you stood outside Hiccup’s hut, wings spread and standing still as Hiccup drew you in his sketchbook with surprising accuracy. Toothless lay off to the side, beginning to doze off as he watched the movements of his rider.

He circles around you, getting a viewpoint of your wings from all angles, soon stopping behind you. While keeping your gaze on the wall, the silence of the room is occasionally interrupted by Hiccup’s muttering or the sound of charcoal against the paper.

Your heart thunders in your chest as you can feel Hiccup’s presence behind you, his eyes observing every detail of your wings as if he didn’t want to miss a single one. Your body tenses when Hiccup suddenly steps closer to you from behind, mumbling even more to himself as if he didn’t realize what he had done.

The skin on the back of your neck raises in goosebumps as you feel his breath dance across it.

“Incredible.” Hiccup mutters to himself as he observes your wings, and your stomach can’t help but flutter with pride at his words. He thought your wings were incredible. Hiccup sketches silently for a few more minutes, focused so intently on getting every detail right that he didn’t notice how he was leaning ever so closer.

An unknown feeling blooms in your chest as you can feel him get closer, but your gaze stays directed to the wall, afraid that even moving an inch would pop the atmospheric bubble you had found yourself in.

You were always told to protect yourself from people who weren’t in your clan. You were told they saw your people as monsters, demons that needed to be slain. This was proved by the slaughtering of your family. So much bloodshed and loss because of the wings bestowed upon them by the Gods themselves.

You knew the dangers of people. That’s why you lived in a secluded forest surrounded only by dragons for years upon years.

Hiccup shattered that belief in only a few days… and you let him.

Your muddled thoughts were sharply interrupted by the feeling of fingers grazing softly over your wings. The touch is so featherlight that you wouldn’t have felt it without the years of learning to hone in on your senses during your time in the forest. Your body reacts before you can even think, turning quickly to face Hiccup and barely managing to fold your wings back so they wouldn’t smack him.

The pink welt on his cheek that you gave him was just starting to heal. It would’ve been a shame to give him another one.

Toothless perks his head up, torn out of his dazed state into an alert one at how swiftly you had moved.

Hiccup’s green eyes were wide with shock as he stared down at you, his hand still slightly outstretched to where your wing previously was. Your eyes stare back, torn between a harsh glare for suddenly touching you and a silent plea for more. That last part scared you more than anything. Your senses were becoming overwhelmed too quickly once again, and you wanted nothing more than to flee.

Noticing this, Hiccup scrambles to find a way to fix his mistake and hopefully calm your nerves.

“Flight!”

His sudden shout causes your body to flinch, but you do freeze, his loud voice stunning you into place. Hiccup quickly clears his throat, having not expected his voice to come out that loud in his desperate search for a way to shift the tension. His hand gestures to Toothless, who stares at Hiccup with a confused look from his shouting.

“Let’s… Let’s go for a flight.”

The words come out quickly but are in a softer tone than the one before. You gaze between Hiccup and Toothless, the dragon just as confused as you were, but his words do calm your nerves. Even just a little bit.

It had been a while since you’d been flying, sticking mainly to the ground while taking in your new surroundings. Looking back at Hiccup, you give him a slight nod in response to his suggestion. It was about time you spread your wings anyway.

—

The wind surrounds your body as you soar through the sky, your wings spread behind you and occasionally flapping to keep you upright. To your left, Toothless does the same with Hiccup perched upon his back.

The flight was silent between the two of you. Your gaze mainly focused ahead, and you managed to miss Hiccup stealing glances your way. Your eyes slowly close at the feeling of the wind on your face, a relaxed look overcoming your features as you fly beside Toothless.

This was where you belonged. High above the clouds without a care in the world.

Hiccup watches you as you fly with your eyes closed, observing how tranquil you look. A sudden smack from Toothless’ ear fin brings the teen back to his senses, glaring down silently towards the dragon, who looks back at him with a smug look.

“Not a word.” He mumbles to Toothless before looking back toward you, freezing when you are nowhere in sight. His head whips around, his eyes looking over the tops of the clouds as he tries to find where you have gone. A shout of excitement cuts through the air, causing him to look up towards the source of the sound, and a small smile invades his lips at what he finds.

You had flown a bit higher before outstretching your arms and letting your body freefall. Your body whizzes past Toothless, who watches you curiously as you soon disappear back under the clouds.

Without much thinking, Hiccup gently pats the side of Toothless’ neck, the dragon giving a confused sound at his action, which quickly turns into a roar when Hiccup jumps off of Toothless’ back towards you.

Your eyes had barely fluttered open before they widened in shock at Hiccup freefalling beside you. Fear courses through your veins at the sight, but Hiccup gives you an ever-widening grin. Before you can process it, Hiccup shoves his hands into something attached to his legs and spreads his arms.

A laugh of shock leaves your lips at the sight as you spread your wings to slow your falling into a glide. Hiccup had some type of fabric attached from his wrists to his legs, and his own body had lurched to a glide beside your own. Remaining with your back to the ground, Hiccup maneuvered his body to glide above you, his eyes sparkling in excitement as your smile slowly began to match his own.

With seconds feeling like hours, your eyes remain locked as you both glide together below the clouds.

Taglist: @spiderlily-w1tch-blog @millie--billie @persipeoni

252 notes View Post

glass-rats

1 year ago