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naeverse · 4 months

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Stress Relief

🌑staring: Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

🌓 preview:

Blinded to the meaning of his always tensed muscles, excessive sleep, and lack of energy.

Your boyfriend, Miguel O'Hara was stressed and even worse…

Sexually frustrated.

You became even more saddened at the revelation, pondering how you couldn't decipher it sooner with the many red flags in front of you; but with the new knowledge, you, luckily, knew a way that could relieve him of all his stress and exhaustion.

Knew of something that will cleanse him and make him anew whilst in the process, curing the burning ache in your core…

🌔Summary: Lately, your boyfriend Miguel has been arriving home from work with an overwhelming sense of stress and exhaustion, leaving him unable to dedicate time to your relationship or attend to the needs of either himself or you.

Tonight, you've planned to offer the much-needed support and care he deserves.

🌕tw/cw. Bed-Sharing, Blowjob, Cock Worship, Fingering (Slightly) Handjob, Oral sex, p in v (Slightly), Size Difference, Somnophilia,

🌖pet names: Mi amor (My love), Mami (Sweetheart/Baby/Honey)

🌗rating. 18+ explicit I SMUT I

🌘Word count: 4.4k

This request is from a lovely anon, so I hope you enjoy! 💜😊💜

(I do not own any of the photos used! All credit goes to the original artist!)

(This oneshot contains Somnophilia, do not read, if not comfortable.)

Somnophilia- The urge/desire to have a sexual encounter with someone who’s asleep.

**YOU’VE BEEN WARNED!!**

Your boyfriend, Miguel O’Hara was a workaholic.

You discovered his habit upon moving in with the large Latino and noticing his incessant late-night shifts at the Spider Society HQ.

At first, you didn’t mind it, your boyfriend found joy in helping the multiverse through his tech and Spider-Man work, so it didn’t bother you as long as he was happy. It wasn’t until he began to come home after a long day of work with tense shoulders, half-lidded eyes, and a face full of stress wrinkles. He wouldn’t say much, only a drowsy greeting, followed by a tired peck upon your lips or cheeks before he crashes onto any soft surface he lands on first.

His intense fatigue began to build a wedge between the two of you. You missed Miguel, his cute fanged smile, comforting words, loving pet names, and the way he looked at you like you were the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on.

Now the only thing his eyes searched for upon entering home was somewhere for him to lay his head.

Due to his absence because of exhaustion, you’ve also grown to miss intimacy with him. Even though he was tired, he used to still make sure to satisfy you, but recently, his weariness seems to be too much for him.

Tonight, you sat in your shared bed, a book in your hands. Your eyes scanning the erotica you were reading, full of interest.

Due to your lack of intimacy from your lover, you’ve begun to search for it elsewhere, and thankfully, erotic authors were a thing.

You didn’t know what you'd do without them.

You bit your lip, reading the sexiest passion exchange between two lovers when the all too familiar sound of your boyfriend's arrival via his orange and red portal was heard from the living room. You looked up from your book when you saw his massive being enter your bedroom.

His dark hair was messy on his head and his muscular frame was covered in his red and blue holographic spider suit. He almost touched the top of the doorway due to his tall height.

When his crimson eyes met yours, a tired smile spread across his exhausted face. He walked over to your side of the bed, pulling you into a deep embrace. His burly arms and massive chest engulf your being in his warmth.

“It’s nice to see you after a long day, mi amor.” He muttered, pressing a brief kiss to your lips. Your eyes fluttered close, savoring the feeling of his plush lips when he pulled away. Desperately your mouth followed him, yearning for more as he was already climbing into bed beside you. The mattress creaked loudly under his heavy weight.

You pouted, setting your steamy erotica on your bedside table and turning on your side to face him. “How was work, baby?” You asked, causing him to groan, his eyes already closed. “Tiresome, mi amor.” He said sleepily, your face saddening even more at his response.

You pulled him to your chest, enveloping your arms around his shoulders and beginning to run your fingers through his dark hair. He sighed in contentment against you. With him in your arms, an idea came to your head- a thought that you’ve been meaning to bring to his attention.

“Babe, I was wondering since tomorrow is Saturday, maybe we can do something different.” You proposed, continuing your soft massage on his scalp. “Like we can stay home together, snuggle up on the couch, catch up on some movies and TV shows, and just relax-”

The sound of his soft snores instantly brought your words to a halt. You looked down to see he was asleep, a peaceful look of rest adorning his defined features.

You sighed, a small smile spreading across your lips at his adorable deep grumbles whilst his face was buried into the dark green fabric of your nightgown. You caressed his chiseled cheekbones with your thumb, knowing his inability to fight the sleep that always sought him each night upon returning home.

“Goodnight, Miguel.”

You whispered, pressing a kiss on his forehead and gently placing him onto the soft pillows of your bed. You then stood up, moving over to his side as you frowned at the sight of his holographic suit still covering his body. The suit seemed to be the second skin of your boyfriend as every contour of his muscles and body was hugged by its blue and red digital strands.

Despite the burning desire for him to sleep without such restrictive clothing, you didn't want to disturb his tranquil rest, so you decided to leave it on.

You took the white linen sheets in your hands and pulled them over your boyfriend, tucking him in before turning off the lamp that sat on his bedside table. His side of the room, darkening at the loss of light whilst your bedside lamp still assisted in bringing a soft glow to your space.

After clicking off his lamp and ensuring he was comfortable, you returned to your side of the bed. You climbed under the sheets and drew back the blankets, beginning to read your erotica once more.

As the night progressed and the deeper you got into your steamy novel, you started to become overly aroused.

You couldn’t explain the tantalizing feeling of need and lust that felt like a feather gliding across your skin. The sensation felt just beneath the surface, spreading like wildfire and demanding your attention. You couldn't pinpoint when it started as it crept upon you so suddenly.

With each steamy word, phrase, and action read, your body heated up and your core throbbed in desire. You clenched the novel in your hands, squeezing your thighs together under the sheets in an attempt to control yourself, but it was no use.

You closed the book and took a deep breath.

‘What is wrong with me?’

You pondered, never before feeling a deep craving for such intense intimacy. Most of the time you were content with just your steamy novels to cure your need, but tonight, you felt like you were about to burst.

You squeezed your eyes shut, biting your lip harshly whilst sitting against the headboard of your bed. Occasionally your hands gripped the erotic book, trying to relieve yourself of lust, but it felt unshakeable.

You needed touch…

You needed intimacy…

You needed Miguel…

‘I could…wake him.’

You thought, your mind going into a spiral of all the things Miguel would do to you upon awakening and hearing your need for him.

How he'll grant your lips with his long, passionate kisses that you missed so much. How his large hands would roam your body, his every touch igniting a flame inside of you that only he could achieve.

Most of all, your sex-deprived brain imagined how he'd take you.

How despite his loving touch and kisses, sex with your boyfriend was the complete opposite.

Miguel loved to take the lead and enjoyed watching your eyes roll in ecstasy, the trembles of your body, and how one mere thrust of his massive cock could make you come undone.

And that’s what you imagined whilst sitting with your eyes closed shut, biting your lip, and gripping your book so tight, that your knuckles turned white.

You didn't care what position, the pace set, or of a release, being filled by your boyfriend's cock was enough.

It was all you needed at this moment.

To feel him buried deep inside, your walls stretched to accommodate his enormity whilst you felt his warmth and massiveness.

‘Maybe just…?’

You opened your eyes, looking over to take in your boyfriend's sleeping form. How peaceful and content he looked, the rises and falls of his chest and the sounds of his adorable deep snores that left his tanned lips.

He was handsome even in sleep.

The thought once more resurfaced in your head, the urge to wake him and satisfy your needs when you hastily shook your head.

‘Get a grip, Y/N. It's not that important. You can wait.’

You scolded yourself, averting your eyes from your enticing lover and deciding to go to sleep.

You closed the book, placed it on your nightstand, and turned off your lamp. Your bedroom was instantly engulfed in darkness except for the natural glow of the moon through your window.

You pulled the white blankets up to your chin, snuggling up against them as you closed your eyes for sleep.

But it appeared that sleep was playing hard to get tonight.

You were restless.

The lust was too overwhelming and made rest impossible to reach.

You tried to clear your mind, focus only on sleep but the thought of Miguel and his massive cock would invade your mind every time, preventing you from your slumber.

You gripped the sheets tightly, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to calm your arousal and relax; but your composure only shattered when small sounds began to fill your, once silent, bedroom.

Small sounds that went straight to your core, and made you wet.

Your eyes slowly opened, eyebrows furrowing as you turned to look at your sleeping boyfriend.

You thought you'd misheard it, that maybe the arousal was so intense that it had clouded both your mind and sense of hearing, but again, you heard another soft groan leave your lover’s lips.

Your eyes widened at the sight of his face that was scrunched up in ecstasy, yet holding its peaceful look of sleep. For a moment you were confused, eyes trailing his being in search of the reasoning behind his pleasurable facial features and erotic noises.

Upon examining your boyfriend, you shifted slightly in bed to get a better view when something hard brushed against your thigh. You gasped in surprise, springing away.

‘What was that!?’

You wondered in astonishment, clueless about what the object could be.

Gently and cautiously, you pulled the sheets up to peer under the white blanket and your heart dropped at what you saw.

An evident tent was sprouting from the crotch of your lover's spider suit.

You wanted this to be a dream, that you were just seeing things, but upon drawing the blankets back fully to get a better view, you could clearly see the massive bulge under the blue strands of his holographic suit.

You bit your lip, eyes trained on the alluring sight. Your core pulsated, begging to be filled as you couldn't remember the last time you were intimate with your boyfriend. Another series of very familiar deep grunts and groans were heard from him, only coaxing you to do the unthinkable.

‘But…he's sleeping. That's not right.’

You thought, your eyes drawing back to the outline of his huge member through his suit, begging to be freed from its confines and brought to a release.

But the more you looked at his bulge and heard his occasional whimpers, you wondered if this was a regular occurrence.

That may be due to your boyfriend's fatigue, he tended to fall asleep despite his burning need for you.

The thought of him waking up in the middle of the night to relieve his arousal himself, without waking you, tugged at your heart.

You sighed, looking back at your sweet boyfriend.

He needed you and you've been oblivious to the signs.

Blinded to the meaning of his always tensed muscles, excessive sleep, and lack of energy.

Your boyfriend, Miguel O'Hara was stressed and even worse…

Sexually frustrated.

Knew of something that will cleanse him and make him anew whilst in the process, curing the burning ache in your core.

With your decision being final, you slid closer to your sleeping lover, the sheets under you rippling slightly at your movement. Your bare thigh brushed against his clothed one, making your breath hitch and instantly come to a halt.

Your eyes snapped up at him to see he was still asleep, shaky, uneven exhales passing his tanned lips. You breathed a sigh of relief, continuing with your plans of relaxing him and yourself, but you first, had to undress him.

There was only one way that you could get Miguel out of his high-tech spider suit and it was by his technological white watch that adorned his left wrist. Like a stamp glued to an envelope, Miguel never could depart from his multiverse watch. It was one he’d worked very hard to create alongside his artificial intelligence, LYLA. If his watch went missing, he promised you that all hell would break loose.

But now, it was the center of your focus.

Your gaze was entranced by the orange screen of his white watch, emitting a small glow from his left wrist. The burning desire to just reach over and click the irresistible button was overwhelming you.

But you had to be careful…

Frantically, your eyes glanced from the well-lit gizmo on your lover’s large wrist to up to his sleeping face. You followed the pattern of his breathing and when you were ready, you slowly rose on your knees. With a heart beating loudly against your chest, you gradually leaned over his massive, sleeping form. It felt like forever before your fingers finally touched your boyfriend’s sacred watch.

You didn’t hesitate to slide the pad of your finger along the orange screen, remembering how your boyfriend did it every night as you discovered your long-awaited button.

With much fervor, you tapped it.

In amazement and satisfaction, you watched the sight of his holographic spider suit begin to disintegrate from his body, revealing his massive, tanned figure that was covered with muscles.

Though, your triumph was short lived as upon relief of his suit, Miguel whimpered softly, turning to lay on his back. You hastily sprung away from him, not wanting him to wake up and see you hovering.

You held your breath, waiting for his groans to die down to be replaced with soft snores and the creases of his eyebrows to settle once more before turning back to the task at hand.

Your boyfriend Miguel wasn’t just a workaholic, but he was somewhat of a meathead.

He enjoyed long workouts that consisted of intense and extreme exercises in an effort to keep his massive build. It was a figure that you could never get over, and despite what he wore, his muscles seemed to strain under the fabric, demanding attention.

Even now in his peaceful state, they were enticing you.

Begging for you to get a touch, to feel just how solid he was.

You bit your lip, blinded by lust, you placed a hand on his right pec. You moaned softly at just how hard it was, the muscle seemed to have a life of its own as it rose under your palm with each breath he took.

‘Gosh, how did I get so lucky?’

You wondered, unable to just get a touch and beginning to run your hand along the large expanse of his chest, relishing in the ripples, curves, and dips of his muscles. You traced your fingers along every beauty mark and scar, loving how they only seemed to add to your lover’s attractiveness.

The more you touched him, the more your lust heightened. You felt your panties underneath your gown begin to become soaked with your arousal, starting to unbearably stick to your core, but you couldn’t help it.

Your boyfriend’s body was calling to you…

Intoxicated by the feeling of him, you continued to feel his body, moving down his defined stomach adorned with a captivating 6-pack and following the alluring brown trail of coarse hair from his navel, down to his massive length.

You were in awe at the sight, falling in love with your lover’s shaft every time you saw it.

His well-endowed cock was now released from its confines to stand hard and completely erect before you. A patch of coarse dark hair sat upon his base; his tip was an angry brown with a tantalizing vein that bulged down the underside of his girth, leading down to his captivating balls.

You sucked in a breath, glancing back at him to see his face momentarily contort in pleasure to soon relax once more.

You pouted at the sight.

Your boyfriend was secretly craving you, but due to his exhaustion, he was unable to cure his needs. The thought only urged you to continue.

You kneeled beside his huge body, enveloping a hand around his girth and feeling just how solid he was. You gasped, a deep groan erupting from Miguel at your contact instantly made you bite your lip to silence you're surprised sound. You waited a few moments before stroking him at a slow pace and watching for any signs of discomfort to cross his tanned face, but none did.

Breathy groans left his lips whilst his eyes remained closed, his features showing he was still asleep as you proceeded with relieving his stress.

With each stroke, you were slowly becoming more engrossed into your erotic action. You pressed gentle kisses onto his thick, muscular thighs, running your closed fist up and down his enormous member. “Always working so hard, baby mmm~ never giving yourself a break.” You whispered, continuing to fist his cock, speeding up a little. “But I’ll help you. Help you relieve the stress you have packed onto yourself.” You uttered through hushed moans, leaning towards your boyfriend’s sticky tip and licking it softly, finally getting a taste of his salty essence.

A deep groan left Miguel’s lips, his body jerking in his sleep causing you to halt. You looked up at him, your hand still wrapped around his cock as you studied his pleasured face. It wasn’t long before deep snores filled the room once more, his body settling upon the bed.

You smiled, continuing your work at satisfying your lover and sucking his cock passionately.

Your tongue licked up and down his shaft, running only the valley of veins of his base to circle the crown of his tip. You enjoyed how even in sleep, he shuddered at your touch.

Upon rising to his tip, you buried his member deep into your mouth and felt his head touch the back of your throat. You gagged, eyes beginning to water up as you pulled away to catch your breath, saliva, and pre-cum soaking your chin and lips, but you didn’t care.

You were blinded by your lover, driven by the need to satisfy him and yourself.

Hastily, you returned, savoring the feeling and taste of your lover’s shaft on your lips and tongue, a sensation you haven’t had in so long.

You moaned softly, rambling nonsense whilst stuffing your mouth repeatedly with his length, sucking and choking on his cock. Miguel’s soft grunts and groans filled the room with every flick of your tongue and suction of your lips on his shaft, the sounds only urging you to do more.

You stroked him with one hand, slurping and lapping at his length as your other hand slipped into your panties. Your eyes fluttered when your fingers found your sensitive bud, circling it and moaning around his cock. “So good, Miguel. Gosh~ You taste so good.” You babbled breathlessly, your wetness coating your fingers while you pleased yourself.

You whined, bobbing your head along his cock and swirling your tongue around his tip. His grunts of pleasure became more consistent and louder the more you pleased him.

But the longer you fingered yourself and sucked his cock, the more careless you became.

The drunkenness of the pleasure caused the thought of not wanting to wake Miguel to rush to the back of your mind. He felt so good, tasted even better, and your fingers flicking and rubbing your throbbing bud was only the cherry on top.

You moaned loudly, gripping his cock tightly as you wiggled a finger into your drenched entrance. You whimpered, sucking his tip once more and thrusting your finger in and out of yourself, enjoying the sweet friction you were creating.

“Fuck...”

He drowsily groaned, your eyes widening at the slurred words. You hastily glanced over at him to see he was still asleep, snores soon passing his lips once more.

You breathed a sigh of relief, mentally facepalming yourself at being so negligent but unable to resist the spell that washed over you at the sight of his very saturated cock.

It only drew you again.

You engulfed his member in your warm mouth, sucking his thick manhood and discarding your own pleasure to use two hands to stroke him. With closed eyes, you relished the moment, tracing every vein with your tongue once, twice, thrice until it was engraved into your head like writing upon a stone.

“Nngh…Mierda.”

Another whimper escaped your lover’s lips, in his state of repose, but the words only became background noises to your loud slurps and squelches of your throat. “Fuckkk, so big. I-I missed this.” You babbled, moaning and gasping for air when you felt his cock throb inside of your mouth.

You pulled away, watching beads of pre-cum dripping down his base and his abs tightly clench.

He was close, you could feel it.

You caught your breath, your lips and chin still coated in your mixed juices. With hungry eyes, you took in your boyfriend, every muscle in his chest clenching and unclenching, his incessant groans that left his lips and his member that throbbed horribly.

Blinded, you climbed into his lap, his solid thighs easily holding you. His cock brushed against your gown, smearing its thick layers of saliva and pre-cum onto the fabric.

You bit your lip, pushing your damp panties to the side and lifting your hips. You placed a hand on his hard chest, and took his cock in your other, brushing his tip along your drenched folds. You moaned at the feeling soon lowering yourself onto him.

Your soppy walls instantly sucked him in while the satisfying feeling of fulfillment overwhelmed your being. Tingles spread through you whilst deep whines left your lover’s lips.

You looked up at him, his face contorted in a look of pleasure as his hand instinctively landed on your waist. You hummed at the touch, beginning to roll your hips. With each grind, his cock buried deep inside of you, taking the air from your lungs.

At your movements, his breathing began to quicken, his eyebrows knitting together tightly whilst a guttural groan left his lips. Your eyes rolled, his load shooting inside of your walls, painting and filling you up completely. The warmth and intensity made your body shudder.

You lifted your hips, releasing his cock as his creamy essence slipped out of your entrance, eyes fluttering at the sensation.

After catching your breath, you took the blankets in your hands, covering both of your bodies. Exhaustion instantly crashed into you upon your contentment and satisfaction. The lust and need were gone and Miguel was relieved, you couldn't be happier.

Sleep soon overtook you as you snuggled against your lover’s chest, his breathing settling after his release and lulling you to sleep.

The next day, Miguel’s eyes fluttered open. The Saturday morning sun shining into your window and illuminating the bedroom. Miguel oddly felt relaxed, completely refreshed like a free-flowing river after being burdened with ice.

He heaved a relieved sigh when he noticed the warmth that lay upon his chest. He glanced down to see you snuggled up against him, soft snores passing your lips. He smiled, running his thick fingers through your hair, slowly waking you.

You looked up at him with drowsy eyes, giving him a warm smile. “Good morning.” You whispered, the night previous feeling like a dream, but the lingering sensation of being full could still be felt in your core.

“Good morning, mi amor.” He replied, pressing a kiss to your head, your body instantly melting at his affection. “How do you feel?” You asked him, a fanged smile spreading across his tanned lips. “Oddly, I feel rejuvenated.” He chuckled. You grinned, a small blush spreading across your cheeks at your words.

“I’m glad. My top priority is to make sure you are satisfied and most importantly…

Stress-free.”

You said in a suggestive tone, one that your lover instantly picked up on. His crimson eyes wandered your face in thought when his bushy eyebrows rose. “Ah, did you have something to do with this?” He inquired, your boyfriend's intuition, always being spot on. You bit your lip, flashing him a sly grin. “Maybe…” You trailed off.

Miguel cocked his head at you, finally noticing his change in attire and that he was now bare, completely different from when he crashed the previous night. Along with the change, he was beginning to notice a potent scent of your shared arousals, a smell only he knew due to his heightened senses. His smirk broadened at the realization.

“I see…” He smirked, catching on to the little fun you got to have with him last night. You blushed, a little embarrassed. “Mami, no need to get flustered on me now.” He teased before suddenly flipping you over.

A gasp escaped your lips followed by a laugh when you found yourself under him on your bed. He held his body over you, your being much smaller compared to his massive form. His crimson eyes held amusement in them at the sight of your laughter. Miguel looked down to your lips and back up at you, his tanned one parting.

He didn’t say another word, only devouring your mouth with his own. His suddenness surprised you but instantly made you melt into him. You cupped his face in your hands, hungrily matching his intensity.

Miguel overwhelmed and intoxicated you, engulfing you in his burly arms as your lips clashed in a combination of teeth and tongue. “Had some fun, huh?” He growled between the passionate exchange of kisses. You moaned against his mouth, humming in agreement.

He smirked, continuing to messily ravage your mouth and roam his hands down your body. “I've been neglecting my baby, hm?” He groaned, squeezing your soft flesh through the fabric of your gown. “That's why you did it? You missed me, mi amor?” He inquired breathlessly in a hoarse voice through kisses and firm caresses on your body.

You moaned at his touch, nodding at his question of longing. The familiar feeling of need sprouted through your body the more he spoke, kissed, and ran his hands along your being.

He pecked your lips one last time before pulling away, the intensity of the kiss leaving you in a daze. You looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, his skin seeming to be more radiate than ever. His crimson eyes met yours, blown with lust as a fanged smirk spread across his puffy tanned lips.

“You’ve had your fun, mi amor. Now it’s my turn…”

A/N: Thanks so much for reading my oneshot! Shoutout to the wonderful anon who gave me the request, I hope you enjoyed it!

Make sure to like, comment, reblog, and follow! Don't hesitate to request or message me for any ideas or if you'll just like to chat! Love talking with you guys. ❤️❤️

<3 Taglist:

@oscarissac2099 @powerful-niya @szapizzapanda @mcmiracles @mreowmoreww @thedevax @jadeloverxd @lazyotakuofficial @migueloharacumslut @nattywattyy @homewreckingwreck @kinkybandages @prazinos

#miguel o'hara #spider man 2099 #across the spiderverse #the blue panther #miguel ohara #miguel #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel smut #miguel x fem!reader #miguel o hara #atsv miguel #miguel atsv #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #spiderman 2099 #astv miguel #spiderman 2099 x reader

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frenchkisstheabyss · 11 months

Text

♡ 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕎𝕖𝕣𝕖 "ℝ𝕠𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕤" ♡

♡ Mature Content! Minors DNI! Warnings below the break ♡

♡ Pairing: ot8!boyfriend!ateez x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Summary: A nice, calm, wholesome movie night with your boyfriends except I lied and nothing but absolute filth happens.

♡ Genre: smut with a sprinkle, a smidge, a barely visible flake of plot

♡ Word Count: 3.6k-ish

♡ Warnings: (issa lot happening so pls lmk if I miss anything) masturbation (f), use of toys (f receiving), oral (f & m receiving), anal penetration & eating (f receiving), unprotected sex (ya'll know not to do that irl!), creampies, edging, double vaginal penetration, things get rough, scratching, gagging, pet names (good girl, bad girl, slut, le usual)

♡ A/N: I wrote this with the intention of writing this soft, romantic piece but my mind got lost in the gutter and built a home there so here we are. Thanks to @anyamaris for supporting me in my nonsense as she always does.

Even with the air conditioner on, a wave of heat washes over you. Two fingers---your fingers---press firmly against your clit. You know your body better than anyone in this room. Every flick of your wrist makes your walls clench around the vibrator Hongjoong’s fucking you with. The ultra-soft silicone curves to rest its flat tip directly on your g spot. He keeps it at medium speed, the low hum of the toy a hypnotizing instrumental to the weakened moans leaving your lips. “You’re so beautiful” he whispers, delicately kissing your thigh. And you are.

Lying in the middle of your living room floor on a pile of the fluffiest pillows, you’re the prettiest thing any of them have ever seen. The plan had been to watch a movie. Horror---comedy---who cares? How could they watch anything but you? Legs spread wide. Pussy weeping, begging you to keep going just like that. Your panties, moist beyond measure, are looped around your ankle. The tight plaid mini skirt you wear is pushed up, not denying them a bit of your plush belly. Your nipples are two, tightly beaded indentations in your black crop top. They brush against the cotton each time your chest rises, turning you on even more.

It’s getting harder to play with your clit. Your muscles are tensing like a rubber band stretched near its breaking point. Your wrists are going limp. Your legs are shaking, causing your thighs to jiggle so deliciously that Hongjoong can’t resist nibbling at them. What he loves, what gets him off the most, is simply to watch you make a mess of yourself. “Mmm, Joongie. I’m gonna cum---” you gasp, arching against the pillows. Hongjoong’s laugh is nearly undetectable but you hear it, oozing lust. He’s happy with himself and with you. Pulling the soaked vibrator from your core, he pushes three fingers into you.

“Cum for me, princess. Cum around my fingers.” Hongjoong moves your hand away from your clit, wrapping his lips around it in a small O shape. Your arms fall above your head, your head turning to catch Yunho staring at you from the couch. Yunho looks spaced out. It’s as if his mind is off somewhere far away but that couldn’t be further from the truth. His mind is on you and no one else. It's fixated on the way your eyelids flutter when Hongjoong suckles at your clit. It’s committing to memory that sweet little smile you shoot him right before you lose control of your body.

Hongjoong’s been edging you for an hour all for this moment when he can finger you hard and fast, tonguing your clit as pleasure rips through your body. You’re grabbing at nothing---at anything---to ground yourself but it’s no use. “Hongjoong. Fuck” you whine, struggling to find your breath, “I can’t. Too much. Too---fuck.” Wooyoung rises from his spot on the recliner to kneel above your head. “Let me help” he coos, kissing you on the forehead. His fragrant sable locks dance around your cheeks like curtains, shutting out the rest of the world.

Smooth hands massage their way up your arms, loosening your muscles as they tighten. Fingers press into your shoulders---tickle your collarbone---traverse the arches of your breasts to circle your nipples. Woo slips your shirt up, laying his hands flat on your breasts. He kneads them, pinching your nipples in his palms. “Woo---” you moan, “Joongie---ah.” You mindlessly writhe beneath them. Hongjoong’s knuckles are grinding against your slit. His fingers---they’re so deep---spreading you open even wider.

Woo smiles down at you and there’s something so genuine about it because it is. “He’s right---” he says, “You’re so beautiful.” Woo drags his tongue across your lips just as Hongjoong’s tongue swirls between your pussy lips. There’s an audible squelching sound when his fingers pop out of you, the suction of your walls holding onto him for dear life too relentless to let him go quietly. Hongjoong gets up on his knees, sucking at his fingers, and admires the way you’re still clenching for him. He’d edge you more---keep you like this all night---but he knows he has to share.

With one last kiss which he plants on your lower belly, he leaves you in Woo’s capable hands. Woo reaches over you to run a finger across your slit and you giggle at how much it tickles. When he leans forward you get a clear view of how hard he is and catch yourself salivating. You bring a hand up to rub against his bulge. A groan emerges from somewhere deep within him, “Bad girl.” Still a tad loopy from your orgasm, you fumble your way up onto your knees. “But you love it, don’t you?” you tease, your hand reaching down to rub against him again.

Woo nibbles at his bottom lip, pulling you closer to him. You run your fingers through his hair, tucking a rogue strand behind his ear, “Up.” One word spoken in the singsong voice of an angel such as yourself has him up on his feet without question. Just as you reach for Woo’s zipper, strong arms grab you from behind, locking you in their embrace. “Choi San!” you gasp, admiring that dimpled grin of his, “I’m kinda trying to focus here---” San kisses down your neck, dipping one hand between your thighs.

His other hand cradles your chin, fingers pinching into your cheeks, and turns your head back towards Woo where a throbbing cock, arousal moistening the tip, waits for you. “Then focus---” San says, lightly squeezing your cheeks. You let your tongue fall free, resting it on the underside of Woo’s cock. Rolling it around his sensitive tip, you collect the warm salty liquid on your tongue. San lets go of your cheeks, giving you the room to bring your hand up and grip Woo’s base. You glance up at him and he’s already fixed on you. They stay that way as your fingertips trace the veins traveling up his shaft, stroking back to his base and starting all over again.

San raises your ass enough to slip his cock between your thighs. Somehow he’s even harder than Woo and you haven’t even touched him yet. “You wanna fuck me, Sannie?” “Hmm, is that how we ask?” he growls into your neck, grinding against you. Poking your ass out, you lay your head back onto his shoulder, “I want you to fuck my tight little cunt, Sannie. Please.” San grips you by the hips, sinking into you with zero patience. A vibrator has nothing on San’s cock. Woo tangles his fingers in your hair, sliding his thickness between your lips.

Bobbing your head back and forth, you suck your cheeks in---fan them out---mimicking the exact thing your pussy’s doing to San’s cock. It’s a flawlessly choreographed dance between the three of you. San bucking his hips, feeding you every inch. You rolling back against him, taking him like a--- “Pretty little slut---” San’s panting, the slobber dripping down your chin from sucking Woo off making you look like exactly that. Woo holding your head steady while you pump his glistening length, your hand and mouth working together to put his stomach in knots.

With Woo stuffing your cheeks, your screams are muffled when San picks up his pace. “Is this what you wanted, baby?” he says, slapping you on the ass. “Mmpphh” is all you can manage, Woo’s cock hitting the back of your throat. Woo and San bounce you back and forth, whispering praises that have you back on the edge in no time. Your hips stutter, cluing San in that you’re close, and his pace becomes unforgiving. Woo scoops up one of your breasts, pinching your nipples, feeling their weight in his hand. “Don’t stop---shit---y/n. So good. Don’t---” Woo twitches between your lips, pumping his seed directly down your throat.

Never one to be wasteful you drink him down, massaging his balls with your free hand. “Fuck---pussy’s so good y/n---gonna cum” San hisses and you’re cumming again. He cums with you, ropes of white painting your insides from the other end. Woo leans forward, kissing your puffy lips, “I’ll get you some water.” “And a popsicle please.” Woo and San look at each other---back at you---at each other---back at you. San straightens out your skirt, “What for?” Your gaze dances over to Seonghwa and the two of you immediately begin to blush. “We---uh---” Seonghwa stutters, “Don’t worry about it.”

Yeosang politely moves Woo and San away from you. “Excuse me. Sorry” he apologizes, moving between them to sweep you up into his arms, “We’ll get the water.” It’s not that you don’t know Yeosang can pick you up but every time he does you melt. Yeosang carries you toward the kitchen and Seonghwa’s right behind him. “And the uh---yeah.” Jongho hops up to follow them, pushing through San and Woo with zero of the politeness Yeosang offered. “Thanks though” he grins, patting Woo on the shoulder, “But not really.”

“Oh my---that’s---that” you gasp, pleasantly surprised at how much you enjoy the sensation. Seonghwa bending you over your dresser and swirling a popsicle in your asshole wasn’t on your 2023 bingo board but he has you wondering why it never was. The chill of the popsicle is calming in a way. You were overheating for a bit there but now? You feel tingly all over. With the popsicle melted and your thighs coated in drips of sticky, strawberry syrup, Seonghwa goes to work licking it off of you. His long tongue trails up your left thigh---down your right thigh. It comes back up to your ass, nibbling at the plush cheeks and making you squeal. He stays there for a second kissing them, massaging them, tickling them with the tip of his tongue.

“Hwa---mmph” you moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he tongues your candy-coated asshole. Imagine having an itch. Not just any itch. One of those itches that makes it difficult to focus on anything else. One of those itches that refuse to be ignored. But you can’t reach it. No matter how hard you try, your arms just aren’t reaching until---oh god---you finally do. You scratch it and it’s so good that your legs could give out. Nothing, not a single thing, compares to how uniquely amazing that feels. That’s what it feels like to have Seonghwa making figure eights in your ass like his tongue's a professional figure skater.

While you’re bent over seeing stars, he maintains a shaky hold on his cock. Each stroke is slow and deliberate, in sync with yours. “Fuck, you taste so good” he mumbles, fully prepared to smother himself if it means tasting as much of you as possible. You hear a moan you’ve heard a dozen times before. Seonghwa tries to suppress them when he cums even though you wish he wouldn’t. Usually, he hates being messy but his cum has already glazed over his hand and the afterglow is heaven. “Fuck it,” he says to himself, falling across the bed. Spinning around you come face to face with Jongho. “Hey ya cutie” you beam, poking his cheeks.

Sometimes people say that he’s scary, mean even, but when you look at him all you see is your cuddly bear. You drape your arms over his shoulders for support, “Your turn?” Jongho effortlessly lifts you onto the dresser, kissing you like he’s been waiting forever to do it. And he has. “My turn.” He presses the head of his cock against your clit and there they are again. The hot flashes. That thin layer of perspiration on your skin. Jongho grabs your arms, pinning them behind you, and drives into you. “You’re still so wet.” “Not still” you whisper, “This is just for you.” Jongho thrusts into you and you’re full again, his cock much thicker than you remember.

Your exhausted muscles can hardly hold up to being fucked this hard but you don’t have to worry about that. In his arms, you don’t have to worry about anything besides feeling good. He could keep you steady all night if Yeosang weren’t snatching you away, tossing you on the bed. “Yeosang!” you shout, sliding back on the bed, “You can’t just throw people around like that!” Yeosang climbs on top of you, pushing your shirt up, “I can’t?” He brushes a thumb across one of your nipples, lapping at the other as his fingers massage your breast. “You can---shit---do it again” you surrender between shallow breaths.

Yeosang slips into you, his cock pulsing in time with each rise of his hips. His defined arms slip beneath your body, hands locking just behind your back. When he flips you over on top of him, it’s like your whole world’s been turned on its side. He bounces you up and down in his lap, the tremors traveling far behind your core. Just as he picks up a rhythm Jongho tears you away from him, propping you up against the wall. You’d make some smartass comment about Jongho not being good at sharing. If only there were time enough for that.

His arms are already tucked behind your knees, supporting your weight as he fucks you against the wall. “You’re such an addictive little slut, you know that?” he says, and your heart flutters. You just love when he sweet-talks you. The angle he has you at is perfect for stimulating your g spot. He’s bumping right up against it and you’re clamped down around him, as addicted to him as he is to you. “Can I borrow this?” Yeosang asks, peeling you away from Jongho and tossing you back onto the bed.

This time you’re on your knees. All fours is simply out of the question with how completely destroyed you are. “Are you just gonna toss me around all night?” you whine, burying your face in the blankets. Seonghwa lays his head beside yours, nuzzling up to you. “Of course not” he assures you, his voice warm and comforting, “I won’t throw you around when I have you. A light roll maybe---”

“Pirates! Cowboys! Biker gangs!” you mumble incoherently, jolting awake. Shaking off those incredibly strange dreams, you realize that you’re still in bed. Judging from how dark it is in your room, it’s well past midnight. You must’ve fallen asleep after what your aching muscles are telling you was a wrestling match with a bear. A barely awake Yunho tightens his arm around you from behind, “Cowboys? I’ll do anything for you but I am not putting on a cowboy costume.” “I will,” Mingi yawns, cuddling up closer to you from the other side, “I get nice boots. Probably a cool jacket. Ooh, some guns---”

“There are no guns!” you interrupt, “When did you two even get in here?” Yunho shrugs, “A few hours ago. You never came downstairs and we missed you.” The “we” he’s referring to is obvious when you notice how hard he is against your back. “You fell asleep on us” Mingi pouts, a hand running up your thigh to squeeze your ass. You drape a leg around his waist, smooching him on the nose, “Don’t do that.” “Don’t do what?” Mingi pouts even more, knowing how soft you go for him when he does this. “That! You guys are both being so---” “So?” Yunho asks, his long fingers reaching between your legs to stroke your pussy.

You shiver at the contact. Having Yunho behind you, his cock pressing into the small of your back, his fingers teasing you, makes your heart race. Mingi spreads your thighs, giving Yunho more than enough room to curl his fingers into you. “Finish what you were saying.” “I---uh---” “Uh---uh” Mingi mocks, petting your cheek. You move to playfully slap him but he grabs you by the wrist, kissing you before you can even consider trying anything else. Yunho eases a third finger into your core, “You like it when I play with your little cunt, don’t you?” “Mm-hmm” you hum, lidded eyes glossing over.

Yunho stays focused on tapping your sweet spot while Mingi hypnotizes you with his lips. Mingi has you so drugged, so completely entranced, that you don’t even notice when one of Yunho’s fingers is replaced with his. It’s not until there are four of them inside of you, two of Mingi’s and two of Yunho’s that you feel the difference. Feel the intensity of the stretch. “I think she likes it” Mingi grins, rubbing his thumb against your clit. Yunho follows suit, slipping a thumb into your ass. “Fuck---yes---Yunie---Mingi---mmm!” you cry out, so overstimulated that your eyes begin to water.

They grind into you harder, forcing out screams louder than any you’ve made tonight. “Please---inside of me---wanna feel you. Both of you” you whine, so lost in how badly you want them that you don’t realize what you’re asking. Mingi slides his hand out, smearing your juices between your folds, “Aah, she’s adventurous tonight. You sure you can handle that?” “I-I can. Ah, shit. I need it.” Yunho spreads his fingers in a V, rolling them around inside of you, stretching you from every angle. Mingi brings the head of his cock to splash in the juices leaking from your needy core and Yunho pulls out of you, focusing instead on freeing himself from his pants.

For a fleeting moment, it occurs to you how fucking insane you are. Mingi and Yunho at the same time? It’s not only the thickness, it’s the length. You wonder if you have a death wish. Mingi guides himself into you, only the first inch, sending shockwaves through your system. If this is how you die, you figure, at least you’ll die happy. Yunho spits into his palm, moistening his length before he brings it to meet your already occupied slit. Mingi slides in another inch or two, keeping his cock flush against the roof of your walls. Yunho raises himself into you, taking his time to watch for any signs that you’re uncomfortable, “Let us know if it’s too much, okay?” You make a little squeak to acknowledge how nice it feels to be protected, even when he’s in the process of tearing you in half.

He begins to slide up into you, pausing to let Mingi push in a little more, then taking his turn again. It’s a toe-curling, lip-biting back and forth to get them both inside of you. Once they are, you're falling apart, screaming, digging your nails into Mingi’s arm. Pulling his shirt up over his head, he gathers the material and shoves it in your mouth. “We don’t want them to think we’re killing you.” You’re so full, stretched beyond your limit, that only one of them can fuck into you at once. There’s no room for anything---or anyone---else. You belong to them. “You’re always worth waiting for but shit” Mingi grunts, his length throbbing, as much as it can given the space.

There’s moisture on your cheeks. You’re crying. Not from pain. No. That initial sting gave way to pleasure once they were both finally inside of you. You’re crying, drenched in your own tears, because parts of you are shifting that you didn’t even know could. Every stroke has your ears ringing, your heart in your stomach. You feel heavy and weightless all at once. The darkness of the room swallows you while somehow managing to be blindingly bright. There’s an explosion somewhere inside, releasing the building pressure. You’re at your peak again, legs kicking like you’re dangling high up. It hits you hard. So hard that you’re not breathing. Breathe, girl, breathe!

Just as you catch your breath and think that you’re maybe---maybe---coming down, Yunho's filling you up like a donut. Mingi pulls out, tapping his head against your clit as warm cum sprays against you. Correction: Filling you up like a glazed donut. The three of you collapse, unable to do much else besides make a series of broken noises. “Hmph mmm mm hmph,” you say? Scream? Mumble? Mingi throws his arm across his chest, understanding your incoherent huffs, and takes the shirt out of your mouth. You pat him lovingly on the head, “Thanks.”

Readjusting yourself on the toilet, you rub the partially melted popsicle between your legs. This is nowhere near sexual in nature. You’re just in desperate need of relief from how sore you are after the day’s events. “Aah, yup, that’s the spot” you sigh, “Seonghwa really was onto something.” “Was I?” Seonghwa asks, rubbing his eyes. You jump a bit, startled by his sudden appearance in the doorway. Seonghwa stretches, dragging his feet into the bathroom.

As adorable as he is in his pajamas, his hair a complete mess, seeing him right now isn’t ideal. He shakes off the sleep, taking his time to process what’s going on. “Is that a---” “Ssh, if you tell anyone---” Seonghwa’s cheeks turn rosy, a smile spreading across his face. He takes you by the hand, bringing you to your feet, “Come on.” “Hwa, hold on, do you think? I wasn’t--no. No!” You reach back to drop the popsicle in the sink but Hwa pulls you along. “Hold onto that.”

#ateez smut #ateez x you #ateez x chubby reader #ateez x y/n #ateez x reader #ateez ot8 #ateez oneshot #hongjoong x y/n #mingi x y/n #jongho x y/n #yeosang x y/n #yunho x y/n #seonghwa x y/n #san x y/n #wooyoung x y/n #chubby reader

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crow-stars · 7 months

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❝BIG COLD CASTLE, WARM LITTLE HEART❞

❦summary; the experience of warmth is so precious in somewhere always so cold ♪the characters in this story; gn!reader, malleus draconia ✎word count; 784 ❀what do the ghosts say?; romantic, reader and malleus are maried, he wants his cuddles after a long day, more of me pushing my cat malleus agenda, very fluff ☛the author's notes; nothing to note... ☪look at the catalogue?

The castle that Malleus resided in always seemed to be cold.

It gave a chill down the spine of anyone who visited for the first time and only continues to do so for many. The ones used to one have learned to ignore the cold, Malleus especially. The feeling of the cold never disappeared either, it was something that residents within the castle got used to.

For most, people thought it was fitting. The King of Briar Valley with a stare that could send fear down anyone’s body, living somewhere that fit the exact atmosphere that he exuded. He was supposed to strike fear into the hearts of those who dare to cross him.

Though such things couldn’t be further from the truth, for Malleus yearned for warmth as much as one could.

He wished he could fill the castle with the warmth and joy that he yearned for when he was younger. But, for now, Malleus was able to get that warmth from you.

Everyday, without fail, Malleus would leave his duties at the same time every night. It didn’t matter if something else came up, he would always return back to his chambers where you would always await, arms open to the fae.

Tonight was just the same, Malleus’ imposing figure striding through the halls of the castle, his face that same neutral expression on his face. He passed by many servants who bowed to him in respect, yet he didn’t pay much mind to them, one intent in his mind. He finally approaches his chambers, opening the door and closing it behind him with a resounding thunk.

When Malleus was finally in his room, his safe place, Malleus’ eyes landed on you, sitting on the bed, covered already by the plush blankets. You looked up at him from what you were doing and, already, Malleus could feel his heart swell with affection for you.

He didn’t even bother to change out of his royal attire, instead heading straight to the bed. Malleus all but threw himself onto you, head resting on your lap and curled up against you. It makes gentle laughter slip past you, the type of laugh that Malleus adores hearing from you.

“Oh, I missed you...”

“Was your day that bad?” Your hand went to run through his hair, finger toying with the ends of his locks. Your other hand was already in Malleus’ grasp, being held tightly in his left hand. The ring on his ring finger brushed lightly against your skin, the ring Malleus declared he would never take off unless someone ripped it from his cold, dead hands. The declaration made you laugh, at first, though as time went on it was pretty clear he was serious.

And you weren’t even sure if fae wore rings to show they were wed either. You’re pretty sure that one of the only reasons he insisted on rings was to integrate a bit of your own culture into his life, perhaps to feel more connected to you. It’s an undeniably sweet gesture that Lilia would always coo and tease the king about it.

Malleus let out another heavy sigh and shook his head, nuzzling further into your body. You exuded a heat that Malleus could find in no one else, a familiar warmth that was like sitting next to the hearth of a fire, yet one that seeped further than his skin and into his heart.

“Everything is well today. Perhaps I just missed more than usual, my treasure.” Your hand ran through Malleus’ hair, earning a pleased rumble from Malleus in return. His head pushed further into your hand, silently asking for more of the affection that only you can give him.

His response makes you chuckle in response, twirling a lock of hair between two fingers before continuing to run your hand through his hair. “You always miss me.”

Malleus looked up at you, a light smile spread across his lips. The look in his eyes could only be described as adoring, a softness that was reserved only when he looks at you present. “Indeed I do. That doesn’t stop how I feel.” His left hand squeezed yours and you returned the gesture, smiling back at Malleus.

Oh, how he loved to see you smile, specifically to see you smile because of him. It made him feel so soft, so warm in his chest he felt like he was going to be engulfed in flames and reduced to nothing, yet he would gladly welcome being burned if it meant it was because of you.

You were his warmth among the cold castle that Malleus lived in and he couldn’t ask for it to be anyone else.

#✎haunted books✎#briarvalleyarchives #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland writing #twst writing #my writing #malleus draconia #twst malleus #twst malleus draconia #malleus twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader

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corruptedcaps · 28 days

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Nurse Stacey

Stacey’s first day as an interning nurse wasn’t going well. How was she suppose to know she had to provide her own uniform? Although the rest of the girls from her class seemed to know as they were all dressed and ready for work. She knew it was somehow Bree’s, her bitchy classmate, fault.

Bree was clearly jealous of Stacey’s innate smarts and aptitude for the job but Bree also made it no secret that she was studying to become a nurse just so she could sink her claws into the richest doctor available. She didn’t want anyone taking any spotlight away from her in anyway so constantly set Stacey up to fail.

However Bree had ‘modified’ her uniform to make it so eyes were always on her anyway. Her tight uniform showed as much skin as was possible under the rules, so bullying Stacey at this point was just a bonus. By lunchtime on her first day Stacey was pulled aside by the head doctor, Lawrence, and told she needed to find a uniform that was white and red like everyone else’s by end of day otherwise she would be let go.

“I’m sorry Stacey but I’ve had complaints from some of the other interns that you aren’t taking your time here very seriously and it’s reflecting poorly on them so please find something appropriate to wear otherwise I’ll have to give you a failing grade.” He said leaving her alone to fume. Her? Inappropriate? Bree was the one with the ‘modified’ uniform, her tits practically dripping out.

“But by the end of day? How can I possibly do that with the rest of my work?” Stacey said to herself after Lawrence walked away.

“Maybe you should use your lunch hour, god knows you could lose a few pounds.” Bree said cruelly chiming in.

Stacey stormed into the locker room to try and find some nurse scrubs, even dirty ones but came up empty. Frustrated she banged against the lockers but felt them shake more than normal against the wall. That’s when she realized they weren’t up against a wall, but a door. Curious, she pulled out the set of lockers to reveal the door. It had been painted over but it was clearly a door and even had a name plate too.

Sliding the plate off she scratched and chipped away at the paint until it revealed it read ‘Head Nurse’. It was only then that she realized that the hospital didn’t have a head nurse. It wasn’t unusual for a hospital not to have one but it certainly was strange for a hospital to have an office for one that didn’t exist. However Stacey also realized that this may be the solution to her problems. Any good head nurse would have a spare change of scrubs in case of emergency.

Pushing the paint covered door hard enough until it gave in, Stacey fell inside to find a long forgotten and dusty room. It was sparsely decorated and had little furniture. What furniture it did have was odd. For example it had a rather plush looking bed and velvety sofa. It looked more like a room to entertain than one to work in but her eyes were soon drawn to a clothes mannequin in the corner. This would be what she needed.

However as she got closer to it she saw that the outfit was far from what she expected. Instead it looked like some sort of slutty Halloween version of a nurses outfit. It was made of white and red spandex and was incredibly short and looked like she wouldn’t be able to breath in it despite it’s flexibility. Stacey would never wear such a thing even as a joke let alone for work but as the end of the day was looming she realized it was her last hope. If nothing else it could buy her time to get a proper uniform after work somewhere.

Stripping down to her underwear she eyed the outfit and realized that she would need to be totally naked to squeeze into it. Locking the door to the office she then removed the last of her clothes and stood for a moment looking at her reflection in the large mirror in the corner.

She was by no means ugly but she was certainly out of shape and unkempt looking. She just never had time to work out and primp herself due to all her studying. She had sacrificed a lot to be where she was and now she was on the brink of losing it because of some gold digging jealous bitch. Her anger spurred her on. She pulled the outfit off the mannequin and held her breath as she slipped into it and zipped it up.

It was the tightest thing she had ever worn and yet she didn’t feel uncomfortable. There was a certain safety she felt by having it close to her skin and yet at the same time it felt as though she were naked. It gave her a weird sense of power, like the outfit was a kind of armour. Taking a moment she looked at herself in the mirror and strangely didn’t think she looked silly as she thought she might have. She didn’t feel shy or reserved either, she felt sexy. Even the antiquated hat looked good on her.

“Wow a head nurse wearing this? I imagine all all the staff were eating out of the palm of her hand, especially the hunky doctors looking like this.” She said to herself in admiration of the previous owner of the outfit. She felt light headed wearing it, like she didn’t have a care in the world which she quickly put down to the outfit cutting down on the blood circulation. It wasn’t tight everywhere however as the outfit was clearly meant for someone with a much larger cup size.

“Even though I don’t fill it out perfectly I think this should keep me from being fired today.” She said to herself preparing to leave but suddenly hearing a voice in her head.

“Fired? Who would dare fire the head nurse?” The voice purred in her mind.

“W-who said that?” Stacey said looking around seeing no one.

“Why me of course, your uniform. I am designed specifically for the head nurse. That’s you of course, correct?” The voice replied. Stacey thought she was losing her mind. Maybe the uniform was cutting off more blood to her brain than she thought.

“Eh yes I’m Stacey, the new, eh, head nurse.” Stacey replied trying to humor her own delusion.

“Stacey? No no no that won’t do, that’s not commanding enough. No you will be Anastasia from now on. Now let me get started.” The voice continued.

“Started with w-?” Stacey began but suddenly felt an intense heat begin in her stomach and reverberate outward. However it wasn’t unpleasant and in fact was quite pleasing making her involuntarily moan.

“Whhhhaaaaat arrrreee youuuuu doooooing?” Stacey groaned as the feeling intensified.

“Why I’m remaking your body of course, didn’t you read your head nurse contract? It’s standard procedure for all new head nurses to undergo a bitchification process. You need to be strong and tough to have this job after all.” The voice said matter of factly.

Stacey felt the uniform crunch in her stomach and her body moulded to its sleek and curvy contours. Her hips flared out, her butt became plump while her waist shrank. It felt good.

And yet she knew what was happening was wrong, she wasn’t the head nurse and pretending to be one would only land her in hot water. She needed to take off the uniform even if it was the more pleasurable thing she had ever felt.

“Noooo stop, this isn’t right. I’m not the head nurse.” She groaned while the changes continued. Hot red nails shot out from the ends of her fingers as her lips inflated into soft kissable pillows. Her tits grew bigger and bigger until it felt as though they’d rip the uniform.

“Of course, it’s perfectly normal to feel that way during this process but the next phase should put you at ease.” The uniform replied to her in words and then in actions as Stacey suddenly felt a barrage of information be thrown at her mind.

Expert medical advice was downloaded in an instant to her mind, knowledge that would have taken a lifetime to learn was suddenly as simple to her as two plus two. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad she thought to herself, she could make a real difference with a mind like hers now.

Just as she was having this altruistic thought, however, she heard bitchy mantras and creeds echo in her head.

Profits over people.

Power is Queen, the Queen will have power.

Serving the hospital so you will be served.

Greed, beauty, excess, fear.

They repeated over and over again in her mind, it was clear that the head nurse wasn’t there to help the patients, she was meant to help the hospital. Stacey was disgusted but the more she heard the words the more she was nodding along. She tried to resist but the conditioning was too strong.

She didn’t want to become a bitch but the temptation was getting hard to deny. Why should she have to work so hard when sluts like Bree walked all over her. Thinking about what a spoilt bitch Bree was ironically sealed Stacey’s fate. Knowing she’d have the power to command Bree to do whatever she said made Stacey unbearably wet. She wanted that more than anything.

“Yeesss you’re right, I was just doubting myself. That’ll never happen again. Insecure nurse Stacey is dead, confident, gorgeous head nurse Anastasia has arrived.” She purred with a new bitchy tone. She expected the uniform to reply but it said nothing. Having completed its job it went back into a dormant state.

Anastasia meanwhile walked over to the upright mirror and took in her new form. She looked every bit the wet dream she felt. Her outrageous beauty was complemented by her steely cold gaze, a duo that would give her the ultimate power over the staff and patients of HER hospital.

However she needed to make it official and there was one person she knew who could rubber stamp her new position and she would make it so he would beg her to be head nurse.

The next morning, the staff of the hospital were gathered outside Lawrence’s office after being summoned there 20 minutes ago. They weren’t certain but some could have sworn that they heard grunting, moaning and spanking.

Bree arrived with her cohort just as Lawrence exited his office, with his tie askew. Bree looked around and was happy to see Stacey not present.

“Guess poor Stacey didn’t find any spare uniforms. Such bad timing that we had offered to wash all the spares this morning, we could have given her one.” Bree smirked satisfied to herself as her friends giggled knowingly.

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice. I’ll make this brief. I’m proud to announce that starting today we have a long over due position returning. The position of head nurse!” Lawrence declared and the staff broke out into a murmur.

Bree and her friends broke into an excited chatter. This could be the stepping stone Bree needed to bag herself a rich doctor. If she became Head Nurse she would work intimately with the upper crust of the hospital. Sure there were more senior nurses but she had a way of getting what she wanted.

“After a long decision process I have decided to fill the position with one of our newest nurses. I know this might irk some of the senior staff but I believe a new position needs new blood.” Lawrence said and Bree felt his eyes land on her. Could she be getting her wish so soon? Of course, there was no other answer.

“So will you all please welcome your new head nurse, Anastasia.” Lawrence announced loudly as a brunette beauty strode out from his office. The staff were completely gobsmacked by the reveal of Anastasia, clad in the tightest uniform they had ever seen.

“Now that is no way to great your new head nurse, is it? Applaud. ” Anastasia said with a long stare that sent a shiver down everyone’s spine. Slowly they began to clap and Anastasia basked in their fearful reverence.

“Now Anastasia will get reacquainted with everyone over the next few days but for now back to work.” Lawrence said and looked over to Anastasia for an approving look but finding only her cold withering stare. Nevertheless he became aroused and quickly left to do his rounds along with most of the staff. Most except Bree and her gang.

“You might have Lawrence fooled with these fake tits, and slutty makeup but I know you’re still a loser Stacey and I’ll have your job by the end of the week.” Bree said defiantly. Anastasia smiled at her unnervingly and slowly clopped over to her in her high heels. As tough as Bree fronted she soon cowered before her new head nurse as she was backed into a corner with her friends.

“That’s head nurse Anastasia worm. You can be as insolent as you like but I now control your passing grades. If you don’t do exactly as I say I’ll fail you, all of you, and blacklist the lot of you from working in any hospital in this country. No job, no hot doctors, no life of luxury.” She said bearing down on the frightened young women.

“But follow me, learn from me and I’ll recommend you as Head Nurses to our sister locations. They’ll be some ‘training’ involved of course but you’ll earn yourself a uniform like mine and the power that comes with it. Understood?” Anastasia said in a cold purr that had all of Bree’s friends nodding enraptured.

“Good. Now off you go, training begins tomorrow.” Anastasia said standing back and allowing the women to escape. But yet again, Bree stood in rebellious rage.

“Screw you slut, my daddy is rich and is on the board of the hospital, if you think your theatrics intimidate me you-” Bree began but was quickly silenced by Anastasia who grabbed the girl by her neck and lifted her off the floor with ease, the uniform granting her super human strength.

“Silence, I heard just about enough of you. I know about your daddy and the power he had over the hospital. Who do you think gave Lawrence the go ahead for my promotion? Your daddy is under my thumb now and he will do exactly as I command, something you’re going to learn to do starting now.” Anastasia cackled as she dragged the young nurse to her office and threw her to the floor.

“Now loser you’re going to clean this place too to bottom. I want all this dust gone by the end of day, if you don’t consider your future as a nurse ended.” The bitchy head nurse said smirking down at Bree.

“By the end of day? How can I possibly do that with the rest of my work?” Bree said to Anastasia who just looked at her as if she were an ant.

“Maybe you should use your lunch hour, god knows you could lose a few pounds.” Anastasia said smirking cruelly at Bree.

THE END

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #magic #corrupted clothing #twitter remake

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luna-andra · 8 months

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Domesticated!König Headcanons ✨

Image: @Jispooks (Source)

Some HCS I thought up of for funsies, take it with a grain of salt if you disagree with any of it. And let me know what you would think differently! If this gets any love, I have a couple of more headcanon ideas to post as well, so please support my delusions of grandeur!

Part 2 is out! StepDad!Konig

Adjusting to civilian lifestyle for König proved to be challenging. Thankfully, he had you to help him along the way.

If you're not from Austria, König will compromise with spending summers in Vienna in the vacation home and live full-time with you in your home county (or wherever the hell you decide to choose. As long as he's not a convicted war criminal there.)

König tends to keep his PTSD episodes in check for the most part, except when he has a few drinks. He opts to sleep in the guest room after scaring you one night from the terrors. The years away from his past life helps them fade, but he will always carry that shit with him.

You help him job hunt. Blue-collar work was for him, the less human interaction, the better.

With that being said, König insists on DIY-ing every problem in the house. He tried figuring it out with his own basic knowledge, but became unstoppable when you introduced him to the DIY side if YouTube. Some projects had him at his wits end, and when you hear him cuss up a storm in German, you have to hold your laughter back until you're out of earshot.

The grocery bill. That's all I gotta say.

Add a couple more bills on it if you got a kid(s).

Most days, König is careful with not trekking mud in from the job site, leaving his boots in the garage/on the front porch. If it slips his mind, you know he's tired. It took a couple of scoldings to figure it out, but he does his best to make it up to you.

König had been okay with living where you wanted to, but he doubled down on living somewhere secluded, or at least outside of the city. Meaning longer drives/day trips if you wanted to shop at outlets. Totally fine, you talk his ear off during the drive to catch up on what he's missed out on during his long week of work.

Tons of nature hikes. If you weren't used to the outdoors, König would get you shaped up. He was so damn proud of you when you stopped relying on GPS and used maps/surroundings/cardinal directions, etc.

Dog or cat family, but I also see him being a reptile dad, too.

WANTS KIDS. THE MORE, THE BETTER. He wants to age and be surrounded by his kids & grandkids every holiday.

When you would go out on dates/shopping trips, there was no avoiding the double takes and stares. You man was giant, it wasn't something he could help. It would grind on his nerves when it came from grown ass adults, but he had a soft spot for children. They didn't know better, so he'd flash a friendly smile or wave so they're not afraid. Those moments would bring back the baby fever for him.

Nothing made König more happy than coming back home to the home you two have made after an adventurous day, watching you saunter happily to the kitchen to grab drinks and snacks to settle down into the plush couch next to him to watch some movies. Your choice, always. And if that baby fever was raging, he would toss you over his shoulder to settle that urge in the bedroom 😏

If this does well, I'll consider posting some other headcanons I have been thinking of! Likes & reblogs are always appreciated <3

#konig #konig mw2 #konig cod #konig x reader #konig headcanons #konig x y/n #konig x you #konig call of duty

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kreumiya · 1 month

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★・ i'd let you read my mind!!

A short scenario if you and Sunday were both Halovian and he reads your mind while communicating telepathically when you deny that you were ever going to take him on a date as a joke when he comes late. :)

Perhaps asking Sunday out on a date wasn’t the best idea. After all, you were a part of the family and had to uphold some kind of values. Asking your pretty boss out on a date was definitely not one of them. Not like you cared anyway.

Holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a box of some mystery cupcakes that you had bought from some kid on the bustling streets of penacony, you walked through his long and winding hallways, solved the weird puzzles he had set up (they were actually quite hard but you’d gotten used to them) and into his office. Not many people were able to go into there unless they had a special appointment, but you were an exception. The only exception.

“Sunday!” you called out. Somehow he was always cooped up in this office, it ought to be lonely sometimes – well maybe all the time… You paused. No answer. “Excuse me? Sunday…?” You yelled out again. Any longer and you were going to get quite annoyed.One of the only times when you could meet him and he’s out somewhere? You’ve got to be kidding me… “Uh-hum,” you cleared your throat, “Mr Sunday, leader of the Oak family and Representative of Penacony you have a visitor!” A few minutes passed and … no reply. You had specifically told him you were coming in 3 system hours.

Screw it, you sighed, placing your gifts behind your chair and taking a seat on one of his plush velvet chairs. “If you don’t come now, I’ll eat all these cupcakes…” Pause. Silence. This room was genuinely like a prison, you couldn’t fathom how he could spend all of his days locked up in this place by himself like a bird in a cage. An hour passed by…

And all of a sudden, the doors opened wide. “I’m so sorry, I’m late. I got caught up in some business.”

“Late by an hour?” you sighed dramatically, “oh whatever shall I do? All my plans have been cancelled because I’ve waited here for so long.” You sulked, knowing full well that you did not have any other plans lined up for the entire week. “I had something planned for the two of us to do, but I guess not anymore…” you averted your gaze while suppressing a grin.

He took a seat next to you, “what did you plan for us to do?” he asked thoughtfully, taking your hand in his and placing a kiss on it.

“Ah well, since you came so late, I’ve had to cancel the plans,” you wistfully shook your head, trying to hide the fat bouquet of flowers behind your chair. “There’s not much I can do…” you began to get up before you heard something in your head. Sunday hadn’t been speaking but you had heard him trying to communicate with you telepathically, Damn Halovian powers… you smiled.

So what is it?

Now all your thoughts would be relayed to him…

It was a date!! I wasn’t actually going to cancel it. I saw that you were pretty scared when I said I cancelled all my plans. I definitely tricked you didn’t I?

You shot him a beaming smile. Knowing full well that you did not trick him, you definitely forgot that Halovians were able to communicate telepathically, and that bouquet peeking out from behind your chair definitely didn’t help at all.

“Here you go,” you passed him the bouquet and then the box of cupcakes. “Now let’s go! We’re already running behind schedule by 1 hour and 14 minutes, we still have a lot to do you know!” You held his hand as you ran down the hallways while his other arm carried the bouquet and the half melted cupcakes.

“Today will be a long day,” he laughed.

i am actually so starved of sunday content and leaks its so sad

#sunday x reader #sunday hsr x reader #sunday hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #honkai star rail #star rail #fluff #sunday #hoyoverse #hsr x reader

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siriusleee · 7 months

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shot through with gold

“I smashed the whole house to bits,” Johnny keeps going, turning to put the milk in the refrigerator. “Had to get Simon over here to help me put it back together. It was his idea by the way. To get the mug fixed. He said you’d be mad if it was gone when you came home.”

tags: coming back home, implied torture, capture, smut, riding, reader is afab, mentions of medical procedures, mentions of blood word count: 7.7k author's note: This was a commission by the best and brightest @gazs-blue-hat. If you'd like to commission a fic, visit my ko-fi for more information. Also, I refuse to disgrace the good country of Scotland by attempting to do the full Scottish accent. Readers call sign is Sparrow, but it's only used once.

The room is heavy with dust; small puffs cloud around Johnny’s boots as he pads across the plush carpet. The summer’s oppressive heat makes the walls sweat - you’d be worrying about the mold forming in the drywall if you could see it. But Johnny doesn’t think of the way his handprints smudge on the paint you spent weeks agonizing over or the way your perfume lingers in the still air even after all this time.

His singular mission - to grab a few shirts he needs and leave - is the only thought he allows himself to think about, hands combing through the dressers and eyes trained downward, away from all the pictures hanging on the wall. He avoids your side of the dresser, avoids the lace that still peaks out from your top drawer.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, Johnny ignores it as he pulls the shirts he came to look for out of the dresser drawer, tucking them beneath his arm. He follows his tracks in the dust back out, eyes cast down at the carpet. The whole trip takes less than 10 minutes; he doesn’t let himself look up until he’s slamming the passenger door of Simon’s truck shut behind him.

“Got everything?” Simon asks, shifting the truck into drive.

Johnny sits ramrod straight in the seat, eyes avoiding Simon’s as he buckles in.

“Yeah, got everything.”

Your fingers trace over the marks you’d carved into the soft stone wall. You’d tried to keep a tally mark of days, but time slipped by in odd increments within your cell. Some days you’d watch the sunrise from the cracks in the ceiling and after just a blink, the inky blackness of night would be seeping in. Sometimes the sun hung in the sky for months before finally falling to the full moon. No matter how hard you tried to decode the pattern, the moment you had it everything would reset.

The guards were in on it; they had to be. They’d bring your meals at odd times - sometimes you’d still be full from the moldy slop they shoved in between the cell bars, spilling it out onto the floor like you’re an animal in a cage, and sometimes you’d be so hungry that you could barely crawl to eat.

It was supposed to be someone else - you were pulled for guard duty after another soldier slogged off and broke his foot doing something stupid while training. You’d finally been pulled to work with Johnny, three days away from being a full transfer to the 141 when your C.O. had appeared at the door of your bunk, new orders in hand.

A simple guard duty: get the guy to where he was supposed to be going, hand him off, and fly home. Your transfer could wait an extra forty-eight hours. But your plane was shot down somewhere over the middle of nowhere - you had told your C.O. that flying that low was a risk, but the desert was empty and the plane was old. They’d been making the flight for weeks, ferrying men back and forth with no hiccups. Your flight should have been no different.

It should have been someone else.

You couldn’t remember what had hit your small passenger plane: but the ground was David, and you were Goliath. You’d hit the ground beside the pilot’s head, his mouth formed in a soundless scream, and after a quick flash of black, had woken up to a bucket of water being poured across your face.

Whatever language your captives screamed at you, you didn’t know it. And if they knew any of the ones you screamed back at them: Spanish, Arabic, German, they didn’t let you in on it. You couldn’t figure out what they wanted until they’d ripped the Union Flag from the breast of your vest, a quick picture on a Polaroid camera snapped above you before you realized what they wanted.

Blood dribbled down your chin when you laughed at them: the government didn’t even pay for soldiers who got captured at war. What would they pay for your half-broken body to get shipped back in a wooden box? A simple mistake that could be written off as a plane malfunction.

The anger had come first, feet and fists slamming into the men when they appeared at the cell doors. Nails ripped from their beds when you tried to claw at the seams in the walls. It had cost you a few teeth and a pound of flesh. And then, when you were tired of the endless beatings and anger that went nowhere, you begged them to kill you, to do something to end the torment. By the marks on the wall, it took months before you first asked to be killed, and only weeks later for that to end, each request met with silence and a sneer. Now you lay in the corner, waiting for the few moments when they’d let you out to see the sun glinting off of the mountain ranges, the clouds threatening to storm in the distance.

Those quick trips seemed to come with less frequency as time slipped by.

You trace the tattoo on your thigh; they’d cut through it once after you kicked one of them in the chest, his ribs caving beneath your feet, but even beneath the dried viscera and matted dirt that covered your skin, you could still see Johnny’s name there.

You wonder if he’s picked a gravestone for you yet.

The two of you had talked about it, once. It was the nature of your jobs - to be prepared for everything that could come your way. Your wills were done: 75% to Johnny, 15% to your sister’s kids, and the rest to a local charity. Johnny wrote in that you were to get 100% of everything he owned, and you had chided him about it.

“What about your mom? Your sisters?” You had asked across the steam from your cup of coffee. Johnny had shrugged, dropping the black pen onto the table with finality.

“Already taken care of, birdie.”

After that had come the talk of headstones and burial plots. Of missing bodies and cremation. You had told Johnny that whatever he thought you’d like, to pick out. You weren’t picky about it.

You wonder if the military let him put his last name on the stone.

A decidedly male voice shouts from around the corner, and you pull back into the stone wall. Seconds later, fetid food falls through the bars. The man shouts at you, pointing at the food on the ground. Lazily, you turn your head towards him, watching the way he sneers at you through the bars.

They must be getting angry then. No ransom came through after all these months.

You bare your teeth at him.

You’d rip his throat out if you had the strength to do so anymore.

Johnny’s fingers don’t shake like they used to when he buckles the strap of his helmet, the night vision goggles weighing him down. He’s tired - exhausted. The entire convey smells of cigarettes and sweat. Heavy men in heavy gear press around him; across from him Gaz’s eyes shine terribly bright in the darkness. They press in on Johnny, forcing him back into his seat heavily.

Price’s voice is loud in his comms, intermingling with the sounds of the Marines and the whir of the mechanics beneath his feet. Johnny can’t make out the details over the sound of the truck rumbling beneath him.

“Steady Soap?”

Gaz knows - Johnny doesn’t know how Gaz can do this kind of job with the way he fucking oozes empathy. Or sympathy. Johnny could never remember which one was which, he always had to ask you which one to use. Gaz had been the only one who’d asked him if he was alright; Simon had lingered at the edges of rooms Johnny was in to keep an eye on him, and Price tried to give him an extended leave. Johnny had refused.

But Gaz had been waiting until Johnny was sitting outside of some bar a group of Seals had taken them to - a celebration for a job well done months after you were gone, after Johnny's failed attempt to find you.

“You good?” Gaz had asked, fingers twirling a cigarette he would never light.

“O’course.”

It had made Johnny feel like shit to lie to Gaz, and the same feeling washes over him as Gaz’s eyes linger on Johnny.

The warm summer air washes over them; sweat is starting to coat his lower back, his fatigues keeping him too warm. The smell of the desert, of warmed sand keeps him grounded, reminds him of where he is - what he’s doing here.

In the glint of the moonlight, the mountaintops shine at him.

The first few missions had been difficult: he’d fought like hell to try to search for you, fuck the regulations. He’d resign if it meant finding you. The rest of the fucking government didn’t care: no one on the plane was as important as anyone else, not to the officials anyway. Johnny had done just that, his resignation had landed heavily on Price’s desk, only to land in the trashcan a moment later.

Gaz volunteered to follow Johnny, but Price had cut that off quickly. It was to be Johnny and Simon only. They had five days, a week at most before they had to be back home.

The farthest they got was the plane wreckage, a little burnt-out village miles away, and sheep that stared at them from the sides of the mountains. But he couldn’t find a trace of you or a singular person who even recognized the photo of you he kept tucked inside his gear. Even after Simon had disobeyed Price’s orders to return home now after weeks had passed. They didn’t find anything.

Johnny knew that’s why Price had volunteered the 141 for this mission - a small-time terrorist cell hiding out in a country they didn’t belong to, a small promise of the bodies of missing soldiers hidden somewhere.

It was something.

The guards are panicking; the dirt walls shake around you. You can’t guess what it could be: American pilots doing a blind bombing, Russians pretending to send help only to rain down hell on the perceived innocent. Maybe God’s here to level the land and flood it. Try again. Do something different this time.

He could start with your cell, you think, scraping at the dirt on your leg. Underneath the sun-starved skin is paler than it should be. If you ever leave, you think, the first thing you’re going to do is eat a fucking steak in the sunshine. The bones that refused to set correctly ache beneath your bruised flesh.

The sound of gunfire pierces the inescapable silence. Your captors yell, screams punctuating between the bursts of firepower. Good, maybe they’ll tear each other apart and leave you here to die in peace.

Maybe it was a poker game gone extremely wrong. Someone asked to strip when they should have been ponying up the cash.

Smoke pops in the hallway outside, you don’t run from the white creeping in on you, just pull the rags that were your shirt over your mouth to try and keep breathing. It overtakes your cell; you watch as the smoke creeps through the cracks in the ceiling.

The sounds of war flood the small cell - the taste of blood and gunpowder in the air around you. You can taste the iron when you breathe in. It coats your tongue. You run your teeth across the chipped and broken enamel, mixing the taste of other’s blood with your own.

Someone shouts so close this time you can almost make out the words - American accent thick and heavy in your ears - and it stirs something inside of you. You try to navigate the cell through the smoke, rolling painfully off of the pallets your captors had so kindly turned into a bed for you. Crawling across the excreta and mud you try to make a sound, but you haven’t spoken in months.

Your throat is raw, and the sounds that come from you are barely human. You’ll be surprised the men even hear you, let alone notice you there on the ground. You try to pull yourself up at the bars, but the fracture in your ankle that healed up wrong weeks ago keeps you on your knees.

“Hey-” you finally croak out loud enough for one of the men to cast his eyes down at you. “Please.”

He’s so familiar, the softness in his eyes tugging at something familiar inside of you, the sharpness of his shoulders calling to you. You pull yourself up, leaning heavily on the bars and the one ankle that doesn’t scream at you, hands slipping through the bars to try to reach towards him.

His gun drops, swinging loosely on its strap as he steps towards you. His fatigues are filthy, and his nose wrinkles beneath the cloth mask covering his face. You know you smell terrible, and you want to apologize for it, but you can’t make the words come. He looks so tired as he steps towards you, hands reaching out to grip the bars between the two of you.

“Sparrow?”

“Johnny?”

It takes days for you to make it home: IVs from field medics who barely know what they’re doing, anti-viral meds, shots, stitches. They don’t even let you take a real shower until you’ve landed at a base you barely recognize. It’s a painful process, a female nurse wiping at you gently, but still peeling away layers of skin with each pass of the washcloth, your sobs muffled by the shower.

Johnny waits for you on the fringes of all the people that press around you, poking you, prodding you painfully until finally, you find yourself slammed into a British hospital bed.

Johnny comes in the moment they let him, hands held behind his back in a mock parade rest. You barely recognize him, his mohawk almost completely grown out and bags under his eyes. You know you don’t look much better; you’d caught sight of yourself in a mirror before they’d forced you into bed. Ruined was the only word to describe what you saw. Too thin, too broken. Too torn apart to be stitched back together. At least not without all the types of therapy a military doctor listed out to you: hydro, occupational, physical, mental.

Neither of you know what to say, so you start with the last thing the doctor told you.

“They’re going to rebreak my ankle tomorrow,” your voice is still thin, full of isolation. You’d tested it out on everyone who’d been in to work on you, but it didn’t sound right at all. Johnny shuffles nervously where he stands, and then rushes forward to sit in the chair beside your bed. He’s moving wrong, you think, like a wind-up doll. Too slow and then all at once, too fast.

“Why?”

“I healed up wrong.”

Johnny’s hands play with the edge of the blanket that dangles off of the bed, eyes trained on the fabric. He’s not going to look at you. At the ruin you’ve become. You press yourself down harder into the thin mattress, hands tucked beneath your thighs to keep them still.

“Is it going to hurt?”

You can’t help but smile at his question, your toes twitching beneath the blanket that feels so out of place across you. How many months had they had you? A year? No one had told you yet.

“They said I’d be fucked up on medicine. But probably, yeah."

Johnny’s hands aren’t still against the blanket, instead reaching out towards you. The movement startles you, and you jerk to the opposite side, nearly pulling your IVs out. Johnny pulls his hands back, crossing them across his chest.

“When you -” his voice breaks, just a moment before he put it back together, eyes finally meeting yours, “when you come home I’ll bring the bedroom downstairs so that you don’t have to walk far.”

You have the nagging suspicion that he changed what he was going to say at the last moment.

"Are you going to sleep on the couch with me?" You try to tease, but your voice falls flat, unpracticed. But it still makes Johnny smile, sharp incisors digging into his chapped lips.

"I'll sleep wherever you tell me."

The two of you are surrounded by the sounds of the hospital: the beeps of the heart rate monitors, the sounds of the nurses' quiet conversation outside of your room. You trace your hands across the blanket, grasping Johnny’s whenever your fingers collide with each other.

For a moment, neither of you move, just languish in the feeling of each other’s skin; you’re too busy tracing Johnny’s palm to notice him pushing himself closer to you until he kisses you, softly but with a tight undercurrent of desperation, his hand tightening almost painfully on yours.

The feeling of someone touching you so gently after weeks of rage and anger nearly stops your heart. The monitor goes crazy; Johnny pulls back, just the hint of a smile on his lips.

It takes four weeks for Johnny to get the go ahead to bring you home. Each day you were in the hospital he would come for a quick chat before work, bringing you breakfast he picked up. Every day after, he would collapse in the chair beside your bed, smelling of sweat and gunpowder.

The smell made you recoil when he tried to kiss you, and he didn't try again after that, even after you tried to stutter out a why. But the day the doctor tells Johnny that you can go home, you awaken to Johnny outside of the hospital room, arms crossed as he speaks to the head doctor - Johnny looks more serious than you’ve ever seen him off the battlefield.

Everyone rotates around you as if you’re not there, packing the room up, pulling your IVs out, fingers prodding and poking you until a nurse aide wheels a wheelchair into the room for you.

”Ready?” She asks, locking the brakes. She looks at you from across the room, and you know what she wants. Starting the day after they rebroke your bones, they made you get up and start walking, and you push yourself off of the bed, walkable cast heavy against the tile floor.

Johnny’s in the room in a second, catching sight of you whenever he sees you stumbling over your cast across the room. The aide lets him push her out of the way, his hands gripping the wheelchair as you lower yourself down.

“I can walk out, you know.” You grumble at Johnny as he tosses a heavy folder into your lap.

“Hospital procedure, birdie.”

Simon’s truck is waiting for the two of you in the parking lot, Simon in the driver's seat. He throws a glance at you as Johnny helps you clamber into the backseat, crowded around by grocery bags.

“Hello, Luv.”

“Hello, Simon. Thank you for the ride.”

Simon opens his mouth to speak, black hospital mask sliding up, but he’s cut off by Johnny clambering into the passenger seat.

You watch Johnny from the backseat, foot propped up beside you. His hair has grown out too long, the Mohawk nearly disappeared and his beard has started to grow in. In all the years you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him anything other than clean-shaven; even in the field, he'll butcher himself with a knife before he lets it grow in.

He’s thinner than he should be, too. You wonder if he’d been eating like he was supposed to.

The drive home is disorientating, Simon taking turns too sharply, too quick for your still queasy stomach. By the time Johnny helps you climb down from the truck, dropping your hands quickly when both of your feet are on the ground.

The house is clean, too clean for Johnny to have been here alone. Like he can sense you'd skepticism, Johnny speaks from ahead of you.

“I’ve hired a cleaner,” Johnny says, holding the door open for you. “So don’t worry about anything.”

It’s odd to be back home; you trace your fingers across the knick-knacks you’d collected throughout the years, the furniture you’ve spent years picking out. You have memories of sitting here with Johnny, memories of Simon and Gaz laughing from the kitchen. But now all you feel is lost, a bottle floating in a foreign ocean.

You wander into the kitchen, fingers trailing against the wall - there are no dirty dishes in the sink, no food in the cabinets; Johnny wasn’t living here.

The only dish you recognize is sitting on the counter, you pick it up, feeling the unfamiliar weight in your hand.

“It’s called Kintsugi.”

The Japanese word rolls heavily off of Johnny’s tongue, your fingers pause tracing the golden lines that cut through the mug. It was your favorite, a gift from when you and Johnny had first met. The two of you met at a diner, out with mutual friends. You’d thought it was cute, the name of the diner printed across the front in vintage lettering. Johnny had swiped it for you, hiding it beneath his jacket until the two of you parted ways at your doorstep.

“What happened to it?”

“I broke it,” he admits, dropping the grocery bags onto the counter. Your fingernail can’t find any snag in the glaze, any sign that the mug has never had the golden lines cutting through it.

Johnny busies himself with unloading the bag, speaking without looking at you as he confesses.

“After you were taken, I spent weeks searching for you until Price forced me to come home. I was angry, and I smashed it.”

You can feel the frown sketched onto your face; you don’t look at Johnny as you set the mug down on the counter.

You lean against the counter and watch Johnny busy himself with the groceries.

“He was right,” you admit, feeling silly over the sadness that fills you over the broken cup, “but maybe that’s something Simon has a lot of experience with broken things ya’know.”

You and Johnny orbit each other for weeks: he’s there every day until you begin to question if he’s gotten himself fired to stay home with you. He drives you everywhere, and if he can’t, Simon waits for you just out past the front gate, no doubt on Johnny’s orders.

“I had a lot of time off,” he says one day, elbow-deep in the laundry that he dumped between the two of you, eyes cast on the television. “Never had a reason to take it before.”

Your hands smooth the wrinkles out of one of Johnny’s shirts, fingers picking at the loose string. Today had been talk therapy, recommended by the SAS doctors. They were strict about all the requirements you had to meet if you ever wanted to go back, and laying on a shrink’s couch for two hours a week was one of them.

The graying doctor had asked you if you had spoken to Johnny about the anger that still wells up in you, the dreams you have of tearing your captives to pieces with your hands, the internal self-flagellation you went through every night when you thought about the career you’d worked so hard for, and have now lost.

You had spent the rest of the day thinking about what he said, even when it meant not paying attention to the medical doctor’s order when they were cutting your cast off, but Johnny took in every word.

You almost say something then, tossing Johnny’s shirt onto his pile, but the wrong words come out.

“You need a haircut.”

“Yeah?” Johnny’s hands still around a pair of your shorts, you feel him watching you in his peripheral vision. “You want to cut it?”

Of course, you did; you spend more moments than not thinking about how his hair must feel like long if it’s still soft. But every time the two of you tried to touch each other, the other pulled away.

So when Johnny takes your hand, and pulls you up the stairs, you let him - hand heavy and warm in your own.

Johnny lowers himself onto the closed toilet seat; you feel unsteady as you approach him, clippers in hand, and you’re not sure if it’s from the closeness or the weight of your cast being removed.

“Are you sure you trust me to do this?” You ask again; since you’d come home your fingers had been a kind of clumsy they’d never been before.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Johnny keeps his eyes trained on you, fingers tapping against the tight denim stretched across his jeans.

“I can scalp you bald,” you admit, switching the clippers on, “and then you’d look like a Q-Ball for eight weeks.”

“I’ll be the best damn Q-Ball anyone’s ever seen,” Johnny says, beard twitching as he smirks at you. If he notices the way your fingers tremble when you take his jaw in your hand, he doesn’t say anything.

His eyes close at the feeling of the clippers cutting through his hair, no doubt the feeling of the weight being removed was comfortable for him.

“You didn’t do this while I was - while I was gone?”

Your therapist says you shouldn’t shy away from calling your kidnapping what it was, but you still can’t form the words in front of Johnny.

He hums at your words, never opening his eyes as he speaks.

“I don’t let anyone else touch my hair, birdie.”

“What about your beard?”

Johnny snorts, eyes meeting yours as you maneuver his head to the side.

“You don’t like it?”

You like the way he feels against your skin, you want to tell him. But you can’t make the words form, can’t spit them out. Johnny watches you chew on them for a moment before he lets out a sigh. His hair is scattered on the floor around the two of you, more than you’d thought he’d had.

You swap the guards to shorten his mohawk, pressing yourself in between Johnny’s knees so that you can reach the nape of his neck.

His hands wrap around your thighs, light and warm against the skin that peeks out beneath the shorts you hadn’t taken off since you’d left your cast removal this morning.

Your skin is on fire at his touch, you try to ignore it as you clean up his neck; Johnny buries his face in your shirt, breath warm against your stomach. His fingers trace light patterns on your thigh and it takes every ounce of willpower to keep the clippers from straying.

His fingers trace the scar that covers his name, and you jump back like you’ve been shocked. Your back hits the wall, knocking the decorative towels you’d spent days choosing to the floor. Johnny’s hands linger in the air between the two of you as you try to catch your breath.

“Sorry,” you pant out with a heavy swallow.

Johnny pushes himself up, eyes watching you like you’re a wild animal ready to run.

He reaches out and brushes some of his fallen hair from your shoulders, electrifying your skin again. His touch is hesitant as he traces up your shoulder, fingers cupping the back of your neck.

He’s fire as he presses himself against you, lips brushing over yours just quick enough to light something up inside of you before pulling away with an apology. He loosens the clippers from your hands and shoos you out with a promise he’ll clean the hair up himself.

A storm rages outside, threatening to cut the power at any moment. You watch it throw around tree limbs and leaves through the front window. Behind you, the television casts soft shadows on the walls.

“Still pouring out there?” Johnny asks from his spot on the couch. Your answer is the curtain falling back into place. You pad back to your spot beside Johnny; he holds the blanket up for you to slip underneath.

His bare leg rubs against yours, but his hands stay firmly in his lap. He hadn’t tried to touch you since that day in the bathroom - even when he dropped you off at therapy, you’d wait for him to stretch across and kiss you, but he’d just send you off with a wave.

You knew it was partially your fault: you couldn’t get the words out to explain how much you wanted him to touch you, how sorry you were for every jerk away. Every time you tried to tell him how much you wanted him, the words curled into your throat and refused to budge. You had even asked earlier for him to take a shower with you, to no avail.

The movie - some family flick Johnny picked because it didn’t have any violence, you know - cast shadows across Johnny’s face. His stubble is starting to come in again; you reach out and trace your finger across the five o’clock shadow creeping onto his jawline.

Johnny doesn’t take his eyes away from the television screen, but he leans his face into your touch. Your fingers trace upwards, lacing through the Mohawk you’d trimmed just two weeks ago. Johnny nearly purrs when you tug on his hair, pulling him down so that he’s lying across your lap.

You have to take it slow, you know or you and Johnny both might break apart. So you just settle beneath him, fingers tracing patterns onto his scalp, eyes trained on the television, but not really watching.

“I don’t think I’m going to go back,” you whisper, voice nearly drowned out by the storm outside. Johnny rolls, doing his best not to dig painfully into your thigh to look up at you.

“To work?”

You nod, still refusing to look at him.

“I talked about it with the therapist today; I just - I think it would be best if I just cashed in my retirement. I’ve got a lot saved up: hazard pay and all that. The corporal offered me a job as a trainer. So I could still be around."

Johnny’s hand reaches up to grab your wrist, forcing you to look at him. You can’t read the expression on his face, and you don’t like that. He’s always your open book. You try to keep your heart rate steady at the feeling of him tracing patterns on your wrist.

“I’m sorry, birdie.”

And you know he’s not just apologizing for your ruined career, for the nearly year you’d spent locked away in some disgusting cell, for the still broken teeth in your mouth, or the screws that hold most of you together now. He’s still apologizing for not being able to find you earlier, to be there months earlier.

“It’s not your fault Johnny - I should have told them no. I should have been smart enough to just tell my commanding that I couldn’t do it. I should have-“

Hot tears start to fall; Johnny pushes himself up, fingers brushing them away gently. When you don’t shy away from his touch, he pulls you into his lap, tucking your head beneath his chin, and pulling you so tight you think you might break beneath his touch. And you would let yourself shatter beneath him, if it meant he could put you back together, shot through with gold.

Johnny lets you cry on his shoulder until the fabric of his shirt is soaking wet; after a while, the smell of him, the softness of the way he caresses your back,and the feeling of his jean-clad thigh between your own stirs something else inside of you. You need something else, something more desperate, something to push away the feelings of failure. Of the fear that still lingers in you of heights, and darkness, and men who smell of sweat and gunpowder.

So when you kiss him, softly, Johnny doesn’t push you away like he can feel how much you need him to touch you. Even as he lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, you don’t break the kiss. It stays superficial, and soft, neither of you breaking apart or deepening it. You expect him to carry you to the spare bed he brought downstairs for you, but instead, he cradles you up the stairs, hands gripping your thighs so tight you know there will be a thumb-shaped bruise there tomorrow.

Johnny doesn’t stumble as he carries you.

In the bedroom the two of you shared before you were lost, Johnny collapses on the bed, his smell enveloping you, hands never leaving you. He buries his nose in the soft skin of your neck, breathing in the smell of you.

“Are you here with me birdie?”

Johnny’s voice is muffled on your skin, his hands pausing at the hem of your shirt.

“I’m here Johnny.”

You rest your hands on his biceps and feel the way his heart is in your own chest. His weight presses down around you, the mattress sinking down beneath the two of you. The wind rolls in through the window, gooseflesh erupting on your skin where Johnny isn’t touching.

Johnny’s hands don’t move from the hem of your shirt until you slide your own down to his wrists, a bravery you hadn’t felt in weeks taking over you.

“Please, Johnny.”

Johnny shifts, knees spreading your own apart, but he still doesn’t touch your bare skin until you tug on his wrists, trying to slide them underneath your shirt, instead, he traces your arms - the area you know he thinks is safe.

The feeling of his calloused hands on your soft skin makes you shiver; Johnny presses a kiss to your pulse point. You know he can feel the way your heartbeat picks up quickly, and he bites down on the sensitive skin lightly. You can’t help the gasp that escapes you, the way you buck your hips upward into his.

“Birdie.” It’s a warning and a promise rolled into one, and it makes you press your knees together, trying to slow yourself down.

You let your own hands start exploring Johnny. Once, you’d had his skin memorized - every scar and freckle committed to your own memory. But there are new scars there you’ve never seen before, new wrinkles at the corner of his eyes he didn’t have before.

It’s like the first time again, both of you exploring each other slowly. Johnny pauses every time you make a noise, eyes searching your face to make sure you’re alright. You push him away just long enough to pull his shirt off of him, hands instantly reaching out to pull him back down. His own hands slide your shorts down until you can kick them across the room.

Johnny kisses you, full of the same desperation he’d had that day at the hospital. Your teeth click together as the two of you suddenly move frantically, hands grasping at each other. Johnny shakes as you run your nails down his back, pushing until he realizes what you want.

Johnny rolls, hands still wrapped around your waist until you’re on top of him. The thin material of your panties is already wet; you can feel it when you grind down on him. The rough material of his blue jeans has enough friction to send lighting bolts through you.

“Is that what you want birdie?” Johnny’s voice is low and rough in his throat; his hands rest lightly on your hips as you grind down. Your hands reach back to rest on his thighs, more leverage for you to move.

You can’t answer him, already biting down on the moans that start to build in the back of your throat. Johnny’s grip tights as you speed up; you can feel his erection pressing tightly against his zipper as you grind faster.

You feel yourself start to tremble, hands moving to brace yourself against Johnny’s chest. He wraps one hand around your wrist, the other still at your waist; you can’t look away from the hungry glint in his eye.

Outside the storm lashes, the cool air rolling in across you and Johnny.

“Let it out,” he whispers, voice ragged and panting. He’s bucking his own hips in time with your grinding; he’s holding back - you know he doesn’t want to scare you, so you loosen the knot inside of you, moaning loud enough that a blush starts to creep up your chest. At the sound, Johnny bucks up harder.

You can’t help the way you come undone, nails digging into Johnny’s chest, leaving half moons on the sensitive skin. Johnny lets you ride him until the waves of your orgasm finish rolling over you, his hands not leaving you until you finally still, thighs shaking on each side of him. You can feel your drenched underwear, feel yourself soaking into his blue jeans.

Johnny is so hard beneath you, a red flush across his chest. Outside the storm rages harder, and the lights flicker momentarily. Johnny pushes himself up onto one elbow, the hand that has refused to move up your shirt sliding up just an inch. His fingers play with the edge of your underwear, the lace snagging on his callouses.

“Why don’t you want to touch me?” You can barely hear yourself over the rain lashing against the window; Johnny’s eyebrows knit together, and he pushes himself up until he’s sitting up, your legs wrapping around his waist to keep from falling backward.

“I want to touch you,” he tries to reassure you, hands tracing patterns across the back of your shirt. But you shrug his hands off, catching his wrists in your hands before he can fully withdraw away.

“You won’t touch me beneath my shirt,” you slide his hands down to the bare skin of your thighs, moving them until the hem of your shirt falls over his fingertips. “You wouldn’t take a shower with me.”

Johnny chews on his lips, they’re too chapped, you think. The silence stretches in the sound of the storm, and the flickering lights. Before Johnny can speak lightning and thunder crash outside, and the house goes dark - the sound of the electricity powering down cutting him off. Neither of you moves in the sudden blackness.

“I’m not broken, Johnny.” You don’t want to sound so pathetic, but you do.

“I know you’re not, hen.”

“Then why am I having to beg, Johnny?”

Johnny’s hand slips up so that he’s holding your hips beneath your shirt.

“I’m not going to hurt you too.”

It’s a tough confession for him to make, you know. He’d done his best not to talk about the whole ordeal, he never asked what you went through. This was his way of keeping you away from it.

You roll your hips across his again, and his breath catches in his throat.

“Please Johnny; you’re not going to hurt me.”

You don’t know if it’s the whine in your voice or the way you trace your fingers across the hard plane of his chest, or if Johnny is just as tired of holding back as you - but he rolls you over, gentle and quick until his chest his pressed against yours, his mouth finding the sensitive skin at the base of your neck.

You’re horribly out of practice, fumbling with the buttons on his jeans, getting stuck when Johnny pulls your shirt over your head, but he doesn’t let his lips leave you; your teeth clip together as Johnny deepens the kiss he refuses to let end until your gasping for breath beneath him.

It’s electric in the best and worst ways - Johnny’s calloused fingers tracing patterns on your stomach, kneading the soft flesh of your breasts, fingers teasing the edge of your underwear, pushing them further down each time.

The current running through you makes it difficult to breathe; you can’t even warn Johnny, can’t beg him to slow down what you were just begging him to speed up. But there has never been anyone who’s known you the same way Johnny has, and when his hands slow you know he can feel that it’s too much. Just for a moment.

“Still with me?”

“Still here.”

Johnny’s hands don’t speed up, but he doesn’t slow either - pressing open-mouth kisses down your neck, between your breasts, across the planes of your stomach until he finally stops at the edge of your underwear. He darts his tongue out to lick the sensitive skin peeking out above the hem, and the feeling makes you gasp out, hips pressing harder into the mattress. His fingertips brush just over the wetness you’ve soaked through and you grind your teeth together, painfully.

“Too much?”

Yes.

Too much for you at this moment; you’re not sure if your body will hold together if Johnny even tries to eat you out, tries to stretch you with his fingers, you can hardly keep together at the feeling of him touching you anywhere after so many months of nothing but dirt, and maggots, and feverish longing for-

You didn’t notice Johnny crawling back up your body until he presses a soft kiss on your temple, fingers wiping away your hair that’s plastered with sweat there.

Johnny’s whispering in your ear: how much he missed you, how he had thought about you every day, how he’d tried to scorch the earth to look for you; he pulls you until you’re back on top of him. You can feel how hard he is, how wet you are as you grind down against the hard planes of his lower stomach, searching for him.

Johnny’s hands squeeze at your hips, shifting the both of you until you feel the tip of him catch against you; a shudder rolls through you both, but Johnny doesn’t move. Every muscle in his body is pulled taunt, pulled against fucking into you at a frenetic pace. You recognize the set of his jaw, the way his hands wrap around your forearms. He’s letting you set the pace, letting you control him.

You wait for just a heartbeat before pressing down onto him; your vision whites out from the almost uncomfortable stretch of him as you sink down slowly. You can’t remember the last time the two of you were here, the last time the two of you fucked. Johnny’s nails dig into the underside of your forearm, yours into his chest until you finally reach the hilt.

You hold there for a moment, feeling the way he fills you up - so much so that you don’t think there’s room for anything else besides Johnny - there never has been. You can’t even think between the feeling of Johnny filling you up and the feeling of not trying to cum so fast. Finally, when your heartbeat slows incrementally, you rock yourself against him, slowly, using his chest as leverage.

Beneath you Johnny is coming undone; he’s biting his lip so hard you think he might draw blood, so you trace your fingertips across his bottom lip. His lips part beneath your touch, and he takes your pointer finger into his mouth, tongue swirling around it.

The feeling makes your hips move faster, stuttering against him. Johnny moans, muffled around your finger. The sound is horribly erotic in the darkness, and it spurs something inside of you to move your hips faster, rougher against Johnny. But he doesn’t move beneath you, still holding himself back. The sound of skin on skin, of how wet you are for him drown out the storm.

Johnny’s hands are everywhere: in your hair, cupping the supple flesh of your ass, pinching and rolling your nipples between his thick fingers; one hand sneaks across the flesh of your hip, dipping between the two of you to circle your clit. The feeling makes you crumple against him; Johnny takes the opportunity to roll you over, pressing you into the mattress.

Johnny presses one of your knees up, hooking it over his elbow so that he can fuck into you, still gentle even when he’s deeper than you think he’s ever been before, his other hand still circling your clit, slowly enough to keep you from falling apart, but fast enough to bring you to the edge.

His pace grows rougher; you claw at him, drawing red welts across his skin, but Johnny doesn’t slow down. You keep your eyes closed tightly, back arched to try and get him in deeper, to get more.

“Look at me.”

Johnny’s voice is rough, a gentle command you have to follow. His eyes never leave yours, even when his pace increases, the finger on your clit still rubbing tight circles until-

Until you’re breaking apart, shattering beneath him. Your orgasm makes you arch, back nearly leaving the mattress. Johnny’s hands move to cup your face, pulling himself down until he can kiss you as you ride through your orgasm, gasping in his own mouth. Your nails draw thick red welts across his back, but Johnny doesn’t stop pounding into you, your moans drowned out by the way he kisses you.

Not long after, Johnny’s pace starts to stutter, his lips never leaving yours until he plunges in deeper than he had before, and you can feel his warm release spill out inside of you.

Even when he’s completely spent, Johnny doesn’t pull out of you, instead fucking into you once, twice, three more times until you know you can’t take anymore, hands pressing on his chest to push him away.

Johnny’s fingers smooth your twitching thighs as he pulls away. In the darkness, you can just see his outline as he shifts between your legs, but he doesn’t move from there.

He caresses you until you are finally still and your panting finally slows. His fingers trace across the cracks you can still feel, stitching you back together, shot through with gold.

“Still here?”

“Still here.”

#my fics #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish #cod soap x reader #cod imagines #cod smut #soap mw2 #soap mactavish #cod x reader #johnny mactavish

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lunarmoves · 10 months

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your couch pillows are missing.

you noticed practically immediately after stepping foot into the living room, hair still damp from the shower you'd taken not too long ago. your couch looks so bare without them—a skeleton of the fluffy, comfortable glory it used to be. you find yourself frowning as you walk up to it and place your hands on your hips in suspicion. you're sure they were there before you'd taken your shower.

"hey sun?" you call out, knowing he's somewhere around your apartment doing who-knows-what. tidying, probably. he'll hear you no matter how far away he is. "where are the couch pillows?"

you don't have to wait long to get a response. "what did you say, dearest?" his voice calls back merrily from the kitchen. you hear some shuffling that gets a bit louder, coming from the open archway to your right. one of your eyebrows raises at his words, but you oblige and repeat yourself.

"i said, where are the couch pillows??" you say louder, then look up when a tall figure suddenly steps into your line of sight. you bite your lip to hold back an abrupt, sharp laugh.

"whatever do you mean?" sun asks innocently as he shuffles into the living room. grey sweats long enough to cover his lanky legs and an orange hoodie neatly cover his body. his arms are stuck out slightly at his sides as he waddles closer to you.

you eye his torso—the strange lumps that it consists of that you know had not been there before. "i think you know exactly what i mean."

"we don't," sun responds with all the sweetness of an angel. "care to enlighten us?"

you roll your eyes and take the two steps towards him until you're standing right in front of him. you have to crane your head back to be able to look up at his faceplate, making direct eye contact with pale, white eyes as you reach a hand out to poke at one of the lumps. your finger sinks into it.

sun lets out a gasp and gently swats your finger away. "rude!"

you finally let out that laugh you've been holding back. sun's rays do a delighted little spin around his head at it. "uh huh. say, what's that you've got under your hoodie?"

"i'm afraid i don't know what you're talking about," sun tells you, crossing his arms over his chest as best as he can. he feigns an indignant look. "there isn't anything under my hoodie apart from little ol' me!"

"suuure," you say, unconvinced. after watching him for a careful moment—exaggerating your observation with loud 'hm's and 'huh's, finger tapping at your chin—you eventually hold out your arms widely at your sides. an innocuous look plasters itself across your face. "can i have a hug?"

sun practically leaps in joy, white eyes upturning. "we thought you'd never ask!"

you're immediately scooped up into eager arms, your entire body pressed against the soft plushness of his torso as he swings you around and around. you laugh loudly and hold onto him for dear life, feeling the way his hands and arms have carefully wrapped themselves around your back. you can hear the gentle whirr of his servos and a steady click-click-click that you know is from his rays spinning about. a fuzzy feeling ignites itself in your belly that grows warmly with each passing minute.

you're dizzy and rumpled when he finally sets you down after what feels like hours, and you have just enough awareness in you to reach a sneaky hand under his hoodie to pull one of your missing couch pillows free.

sun immediately squawks and covers himself with his hands. his grin is wide, offended tilt to his voice as he says "why i never! at least take a robot out to dinner first!"

you smirk at him and hold the pillow up as though to say gotcha! "we have dinner together practically every night. admit it, the jig is up!"

sun cocks his head at you, then lets out the most dramatic sigh you've ever heard. one of his hands raises to press the back of it against his forehead. "alas, i am no match for you, my love. but! in my defense— it was moon's idea."

you let out a snort when one of his arms twitches in offense. "somehow i doubt that."

sun chuckles and gives your head a little pat. it makes you grin lopsidedly up at him. "yes, yes, too smart for your own good."

"what spurred this on anyways?" you ask as you toss the pillow in your hold back onto the couch. "feeling silly goofy tonight? hm?"

sun shrugs and reaches under his hoodie to pull the remaining pillows free. he makes haste to organize them properly on your couch—including the one you'd haphazardly tossed atop it. whoops. "i suppose! just wanted to add in some more comfort to our hugs! robots aren't exactly squeezable material, you know."

you pause and find yourself staring at the back of his head, gaze softening at his quiet admission. "aw bud, you're plenty squeezable, don't worry!"

"if you say so!" sun hums and spins around once he's done nitpicking your couch to his metal heart's desire.

"hey! none of that!" you wag a finger at him, and after a moment, spread your arms out wide again, bracing yourself for the incoming onslaught. sun perks up, looking at you with a steadily widening smile. "come on, i'll prove it!"

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sapphicmsmarvel · 2 months

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cassian x reader: dating a high maintenance girlie

Hello, if this seems extra its cause it is but this is quite literally my high maintenance routine. This is just one of my favorite parts of life and I love the idea of these big burly men doing skincare with their girls.

i’m a high maintenance girly bc i like to be. pls this isn’t a pick me bullshit type thing. Im a girls girl yall.

-This man doesn’t know shit about self care.

-He knows the basics but like, nothing that would genuinely make him feel comfy in his own skin even more than he already is.

-He uses 3-in-1. Technically 4-in-1 because face wash is separate formula than body wash but you digress.

-Y'all know that stereotype of a guy glowing up after getting a girlfriend? You guys were the blueprint for that.

-You taught him his hair type (2A), his skin type (dry), his preferred scent profile for himself (spicy, woody, aromatic). What his favorite types of care products are, he loves leave-in conditioner, cream cleansers. He’s not a fan of super heavy moisturizers because he’ll get overstimulated.

-These are just things this man has never thought about.

-When you two leave the house for a Court Duty, you end up doing Cassian's hair. He wants to look nice, for lots of reasons, but especially because he wants to be let back into Summer. He wants to be able to take you on Summer Court dates!

-He lives for that sliver of time you’re able to squeeze in before going somewhere. You doing his hair, him staring at you in the mirror if you’re behind him. If you’re in front of him, his large hands on your plush hips as you bite your lip in concentration trying to make his wild hair look nice. The feeling of your fingers through his scalp and how even when there’s a knot, you never tug or pull hard enough that it hurts him. You’re gentle and sweet with him even when he thinks he doesn’t deserve it (spoiler: he always deserves it)

-He loves how high maintenance you are, it helps him remember to take care of himself.

-You do a little self care sunday reset type of thing. It helps you get ready for the week.

-He finds these routines utterly fascinating.

-He begs to watch you do them, not even in the dirty way but it's just so interesting to watch. You also banned him from getting frisky when you do the routines. This was your time, he was welcome to watch but he would step out if you asked because you needed to be alone.

-Some days, your routines are a bit more intense, such as the monthly waxing for your legs and armpits. Coochie too.

-He flinches every single time he watches you wax some part of you, especially the coochie. He kind of has an attachment to that part.

-You do the whole shabang sometimes. Wax legs, armpits, etc. Exfoliating shampoo, regular shampoo, conditioning mask, conditioner. Then the body stuff, exfoliating, shaving any parts you didn’t want to wax, double cleansing your body with antibacterial then the fun scented stuff. Then when you’re out of the bath, face extractions, face wash, whatever else you want to add. And then body creams. Then you’re done.

-He’s just amazed every single time.

-He also loves that you make a little thing out of it. You make it fun for you. There's a whole closet filled with different scents, treatments, formulas, etc.

-You always smell good. There are deodorants shoved in every single bag you own, every room for that matter. Massive perfume, bodycare, candle, anything that makes a room or you smell good, you have it.

-Even going to bed, you put perfume on.

-He loves that you say “I only wear it for myself Cass, it’s just a bonus that you love it.” Because he knows it’s true.

-Sometimes he goes in just to sniff around. The fool just stands there and sniffs stuff. You had no idea why he decided to sit in the closet and sniff things in the dark. However, you did know that when you opened the door to see a nearly 7 foot tall clown smelling your beloved collection, you screamed bloody murder.

So loud Azriel came running with his knives. Cassian just looked at you like “what’s your deal bro?”

You were trained by two of the most powerful warriors, yet your first reaction was to scream.

“Why didn’t you try to fight me?” Cassian asked, “I’ve seen you kick someone down for less.”

“I am in my bathrobe Cassian! You want me swinging my legs around with my flaps out?”

Azriel chose to leave the room after that.

-You also always have perfectly manicured nails. And somehow someway you taught your tricks to the Valkyries so now they are able to have beautiful nails while still disemboweling enemies.

-Great, now he and Az have four she-devils with perfectly manicured nails and glossy hair that can slay their enemies with one swipe. The four of you were feral together. He wouldn’t be surprised if he walked into the camps one day to see some guys dead because they were sexist.

-You also got him and Az roped into these skincare nights.

-He loves sitting there with a face mask on and you using one of your crystal rollers rolling it onto his skin. Bougie bitch eats it up.

-One of your favorite things to do is wear a sheet mask and hide in a closet. Scares him every single time.

-Your stuff is everywhere, you’d be damned if you were uncomfy in your own home. After talking to Cassian and Azriel to make sure you weren’t being a shitty roommate, you kind of went crazy.

-Lip balms in every room, hand creams, candles. Hair ties and claw clips. Fuzzy blankets stashed in every trunk you could find.

-Rhys made fun of it, but ate his words pretty quickly when Feyre saw the beauty of having lip balms and hair ties/claw clips stashed everywhere. (and he later found the joys of said products and gave you a gift basket as an apology….you didn’t even remember that he judged you because you simply didn’t care).

-Also, the guys live in fucking luxury. The home always smells good, they never have to worry about chapped lips or dry skin. Or pesky hair in the way. Anywhere they want is a blanket or cute pillow to prop their heads up.

-they were living like animals until you showed up.

-Cassian having a mate is the best thing to ever happen to Az.

-Feyre, Nesta, Elain, Emerie, Gwyn, Morrigan and even Amren shop your stash of body care if they wanna smell a certain way for a certain fun time (wink).

-Even Nuala and Cerridwen will approach and ask you. Obviously you say yes. You own so much you’ll never get through everything in time.

-Plus you’re a Girls Girl. You’re gonna be there for your girls in your life.

-Speaking of the ladies in your life.

-When you and Cassian have twin baby girls, you were ecstatic. Either way you were going to be happy but you always wanted a girl and now you have two!

-Teaching them how to take care of their skin and hair has been the best for you and Cassian. He loves watching his girls play with their hair. He loves having his hair braided by them.

-Family self care nights become a Thing (that sometimes an Uncle or Aunt will join).

-He loves you because you taught him how to actually care for himself and his mental health. You showed him how he needs to stop and appreciate the smaller things. That not everything has to be a chore.

-He loves you more than anything, maintenance and all.

#acotar #acofas #acomaf #acowar #acotar x reader #cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian imagine #cassian acotar

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hyuuukais · 2 months

Text

-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143

pairing -> lee minho x fem reader

synopsis -> after a bad breakup, y/n needs to find a new place to live. although she's grateful for her best friend, up-and-coming model hwang hyunjin, for letting her stay at his, she can't keep living with him and his model roommates. so when an opening for somewhere nearby with cheap rent opens up, she jumps on it, despite knowing next to nothing about the 3 other tenants, only that one owns 3 cats. the three quickly learn of her breakup, determined to help get her back on her feet. but what happens when one of them begins to develop feelings?

warnings -> gen, y/n talks abt being compared to her sister, family tension, food/eating mention, lowkey survivors guilt going on

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER FIFTEEN -> LIKE IT USED TO BE (partially written, wc: 898)

"Oh good, you're not dead yet," Han speaks a bit loudly into the phone and you move it away from your face slightly.

The bright screen has your eyes straining in the otherwise dark room, tucked under a plush comforter from your childhood. It's amazing it's still in good condition considering how old it is, but your bed squeaks under you to remind you of the age of this room full of old memories. On the night stand next to you is a framed photo of you with your family, your mom and dad standing behind you and another little girl, slightly taller than you; your sister. You lean over and put the frame face down.

"Still alive, barely," you reply with a sigh. "Why'd you assume I'm having a bad time?"

"Let me think," he puts a finger to his bottom lip in fake concentration. "'How am I supposed to last four more days'... doesn't exactly sound like someone having a good time."

"You caught me, but I swear it's nothing." A lie. "Nothing interesting." A truth; is your family drama really worth talking about? "How's the apartment?"

"Fine. We've started to try and befriend the guy down the hall, Seungmin? Maybe you've run into him?" You shake your head. "Minho seems to get along with him the best. I think it's because they both act unwelcoming to strangers."

This makes you snort. The two of you continue to talk and laugh, the cats making an appearance at one point with Minho, who gives you a short wave, and you don't realize how late it's getting until your eyes catch the time briefly; 3:08AM. Shit. How loud have you been? You freeze when you hear a door open, muting Jisung on the other end and flipping your phone over. Your door opens.

"What are you doing up so late? Don't you know what time it is?" Your sister groans. "And you're being kind of loud, mind keeping it down a bit? Who're you even talking to?"

"No one," you say too quickly, internally cringing at yourself. "Sorry. I'm going to bed soon."

"You're lucky it was me and not mom who walked in here," she says with a sort of laugh. "She would have screamed her head off and taken your phone, despite being an adult now."

You sit up. "Yeah."

"She really fucked us up a bit, huh?" She sits next to you hesitantly when you don't reply. "Maybe we'd be closer now."

"Hyo-"

"I'm sorry," she stands suddenly. "I shouldn't be saying all this. Forget this, please." Your older sister stands in the doorway, eyes pleading. "Don't mention this to anyone, okay?"

"Okay," you whisper, knowing damn well Jisung heard every word.

As you listen to her footsteps fade, you learn to breath again, flipping your phone back over and unmuting Han. When he notices you're back, he says nothing, fiddling with the string on the hoodie he wears.

"You-"

"It's okay-" You speak at the same time and laugh, breaking the newfound tension. He continues. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it, but I guess this is what you meant by complicated?"

You pout, eyes beginning to sting. When you speak, your voice breaks a little. "Yeah, I mean, it's hard, you know? All my life I've been compared to Hyo by my mother and teachers and even my friends. Like, I have to be her instead of myself, and she never once stepped in to protect me from all that like a big sister is supposed to. Never heard her stand up for me when it was happening right in front of her, no moment of 'hey, let my little sister be who she wants, you already have one of me'. I feel like I can't talk to her anymore. I'm rambling, sorry."

"No, it's okay," Han reassures you.

"We used to be close when we were young," you speak into the space he's left you. "Then as we got older, we drifted. We're only a few years apart, but she always acted so much better than me once we hit a certain age. She said hurtful things to me a lot, and I'm sure I said equally awful things back." A tear falls onto your blanket and you sniff, looking up to your ceiling where a poster of a boy band is pinned to prevent more from falling. "I want my sister back, but... I think there's too much pain."

"Oh Y/nnie," Han gives you a sad look. "I wish I could hug you right now."

"I'm just saying stupid stuff now, I should sleep." You've overshared and want out of this conversation ASAP. "Goodnight Han, sleep well."

He's about to protest when you hang up, moving your phone next to the frame to charge. For a while you lay there, staring at your ceiling with a heavy weight on your chest. You've never fully talked to someone about the way your upbringing made you feel or the way it still affects you. There's still a scared little girl inside of you, shying away from hands that want to hold you, comfort you. Because what if it's all a lie? What if they all leave you, like Hwa? Or like... like him?

You glance over to the frame again, not having it in you to flip it back up.

notes -> me vs y/ns mother rn- who do we think this "him" is referring to? and what happened? will hyunjin and y/n make up?

taglist -> @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @puppyminnnie @tfshouldidohere @kangaracha @chlodavids @whitney190 @thisisnotjacinta @borahae-reads @brooklynie @gini143 @kayleigh-28 @skz-streamer @babyphotos0325 @scallywag1299 @venusmoonxnight @naomisosoup @fertiliezedtoesw @s00buwu @realrintaro @anothershorthuman @skzstaykatsy @ilovejeongin007 @btswestan @multifandomedsimp @ihrtlix @raehawthorne @euphoric-univers @hyperpixie @evermourning @satsuri3su @jazziwritesthings @minhwa @wyzminho @fic-for-readers @dreamerwasfound @imsiriuslyreal @lailac13 @palindrome969 @lixie-phoria @aalexyuuuhm @sunflowerbebe07 @st4rhwa @lukeys-giggle @jabmastersupriseee @judeduartewannabe @gaysontheprince @stepout-09-15 @splat00z

^^^ orange means i can't tag you

#-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143 #stray kids smau #skz smau #non idol au #stray kids #skz #lee know #lee know smau #lee minho smau #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know x fem reader #lee minho x fem reader #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #smau #social media au

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gyupinkys · 10 months

Text

MINE

JEON WONWOO X FEM READER

wc: 1.5k

Wonwoo finally comes to take you away, to claim you as his.

WARNINGS: Degradation, daddy kink, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving) , gunshots, pet names (princess, baby), breeding, edging.

Wonwoo knows he shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be seeing you, the guys would kill him if they knew he was focusing on you instead of the job, but how could he abandon his princess? You treat him so well and all he does is give you stress. He wishes he could treat you better, take you away from here, but he doesn't want you in this lifestyle. He watches you from across the room where you stand innocently with your friends. You don’t belong here, you don’t belong with those bitch friends of yours. You belong with him. He so badly wants to be selfish and snatch you away, keep you somewhere no one but him knows. Wonwoo wants you all to himself. He watches your plush lips wrap around the straw, he knows its fruit punch mixed with vodka; so childish yet so endearing. He knows you want to go dance but your friends are more interested in finding someone to sleep with. He knows you’re worried about your mascara running and lipgloss coming off. He knows as your eyes scan the crowd you're looking for him. He knows he can't sit here staring at you the whole night. He made up his mind tonight he’ll take you away with him, finally make you his.

“Josh, I gotta go man.” Wonwoo says as he gets up but Joshua places his hand in front of him stopping him.

“Dude, we have a job to do. If Cheol finds out you’re leaving he’ll be pissed.”

“You’ll be fine without me, I got shit to do.”

Wonwoo pushes through Joshua’s hold and walks in your direction bringing his commanding presence with him. Your head shoots up from your phone and you begin to look around, presumably feeling his presence and looking for him, making him smirk. You're so precious.

“Are you looking for someone?”

You turn around and look at him with wide eyes, the sweetest smile spreading on your lips.

“Hi Wonwoo.”

“Hi Princess.” he says as he slides his hands around your waist and pulling you close, looking down at you.

“You’ve been hiding from me” you say with a pout.

“Y/N, you know I’m busy.” he says in a somber tone.

“Too busy for me?” you say as your pout deepens.

“Never, baby. I just got back from europe. I was there for two weeks and I thought of you the whole time.”

“Sure you did” you say with an eye roll. His hands slide to your ass and gives it a firm squeeze.

“Don’t forget your place baby and use some manners when you speak to me hmm?”

This sends a wave of arousal to your core, you love when he speaks to you like this.

“I’m sorry daddy.”

“There we go baby.”

“I want you to come with me, princess. I want to take you away with me. I want you to be mine.”

“Like right now?” you say in confusion

This makes him laugh. “Do you want to go right now?”

“Yes,” you say immediately.

“Y/N. I need you to understand what being mine means. You don't get to leave, once you're mine you’re mine. You don’t leave my side, you don’t leave my house, you're just my pretty little girl who warms my bed.”

“I want that Wonwoo, I just want you.” if you're being honest never having to work or worry about anything AND having Wonwoo? This sounds like heaven. You know what he does for a living, he’s never hid it or denied. You know he’s a dangerous man and you know being with him will put you in danger.

He rubs his nose down your neck. “Baby, Are you sure?”

“I’m sure Wonwoo.”

He kisses you deeper than he ever has. It's all tongue, teeth and spit. He's gliding his hands along your body gripping your hips harshly making you moan.

“Wonwoo, things aren’t going too well with the deal, Cheol says to be ready to leave.” Joshua says through his ear piece.

“Fuck.” Wonwoo sighs.

“Princess we gotta go.” he says and pulls you towards the exit.

“Wait, I need to tell my friends I’m leaving.”

“Baby, you don’t need them Ok? If they were your real friends they wouldn’t leave you here by yourself.”

“Ok.” you should stop blindly following him, but you don't have it in you to care.

Instead of a car Wonwoo stops at a black sleek motorcycle and places a black a helmet on your head.

“Here I am thinking you couldn't get hotter.”

“You flatter me baby. Hop on.”

You slide on the motorcycle behind him and slide your hands around his waist.

“Why is your waist smaller than mine? It's not fair.”

“I’m just that bitch.” he says and you throw your head back and laugh. You love when he breaks that cold exterior with you and acts like the Wonwoo knows.

As soon as he pulls off gunshots ring out from the club behind you making you clutch his waist harder. He weaves through traffic and speeds to his apartment downtown. Pulling into the underground parking lot he parks and you two go in the elevator to the top floor.

“Princess, you see what happened back there is just a taste of what this life is like.” he says kissing up your neck. “Are you sure you wanna be mine? You want to leave your quaint life and be my whore?” he groans. “I’m just imagining coming home everyday knowing there's a warm cunt waiting for me to fuck. My sweet princess waiting for me with the sweetest smile and the warmest pussy.” He drags his one hand down to your ass and the other to your tits squeezing them. He slips one hand up your dress to cup your cunt, feeling your ruined panties.

“Fuck baby. You're always so wet and ready for me. You make me want to do nasty things to you.”

The elevator doors open and he walks out looking back at you smirking at your out of breath state. “ Are you coming?”

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

“Baby, don't run, take what I give you.”

All you can do is whine and try to buck your hips as he holds you down on your tongue. He’s lapping at your cunt, practically making out with it. He sucks on your clit then sticks his tongue into you and you lose it.

“Daddy please let me cum i can’t hold it anymore.”

“No baby, you need to hold it.”

He gets up and pulls you to the end of the bed sliding into you raw. You can feel every vein on his cock and he picks up a brutal pace.

“My pretty girl, you're taking me so well. God, this cunt is squeezing me so tight. Your just my little fuck toy arent you? This is all you’re good for right? Giving this sweet cunt up for a bad man like me, the good girl falls for the evil evil man.” he says, thrusting into you at a brutal pace.

“Daddy please oh my goddd I can’t please.” you whine, tears flowing out your eyes.

“Please what princess? You want me to stop?” he says and pulls out.

You immediately get up wide eyed “No no no please don’t stop.” you sob throwing yourself at him.

“Princess I think I’m a little tired and look at those tears on your face, I’d hate to make you cry love.”

“No Daddy please, I need you so bad.”

“You need what baby?” he says as he puts you on all fours and pushes your chest into the bed sliding back in. “You want my cock? You want my cum in this pretty pussy? All I think about is how good this pussy is. Squeezing me so tight, You want my cum that bad? I’m gonna fill this slutty pussy up baby, make sure you don't give it up to anyone but me. Put my baby in you, see this body grow.” He starts pounding into you faster, pulling your hips back to meet his thrust.

“I think I’ll do just that. Put a baby in this slutty pussy, if any man looks at you he’ll know you spread these legs for me, know your mine. Mine, mine, mine.”

“Daddy please cum in me I want it so bad” you say trying your hardest to hold your orgasm off.

“Cum with me baby, right now I want you to cum on my cock.”

You both cum at the same time. Your pornographic moan and his feral goran filling up the room along with the sound of your mixed arousal and skin slapping.

“So good for me baby, so so good princess” he says with a quiet moan.

He collapses on top of you with a groan.

“Wonwoo you're heavy”

“Mmm but this bed is so comfortable. There's a bony ass poking me but I don't mind.”

“MY ASS IS NOT BONY YOU MOTHERFUCKER get off of me.”

He giggles and pulls out rolling onto his back. He pulls you close to him and kisses your lips. “I’m glad you're finally mine baby. You're never leaving me.”

“That's real dandy, but I gotta run.” you say and get up earning a smack to your ass.

“Damn ok” you say and cuddle into his chest.

“Does this mean I’m in the mafia now?” you say sheepishly.

“Baby shut up and go to sleep.” he says with a groan.

#seventeen smut #svt smut #wonwoo #wonwoo smut #wonwoo fanfic #seventeen fanfic

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colourstreakgryffin · 7 months

Note

Okay here me out please....So reader leaves their beloved baby with their father Muzan for the night, because he said he can handle it....he can't the baby is everywhere, he can't take his eyes off of them for a minute without her just vanishing to somewhere else. Eventually baby get's of the infinity castle and finds herself being coddled by Yoriichi and Muzan is just.....`he's panicking and like he don't know what to do, so like eventually he has to fess up to reader that he fucked up and she has to go get the baby and she and yorrichi lightly have a conversation (roast session) about muzan and responsibility

I know this is a bit strange but please I just think it would be funny

Oh? Okay, okay! I’ll try my best with this and hey, we get to see Yoriichi again! I missed Yoriichi so thank you dearly for giving us the angel back! The angel and demon

If you don’t mind, I’ll name the kid myself since haven’t been given a name

Kibutsuji Muzan- Wondering Child

“Muzan, my love. All you need to do is watch Kuragari” You gently remark with a soft voice and a understanding tint, offering the newborn Kuragari to your husband as his blood reds scanned over both you and the cooing baby. Muzan scoffed under his breath at the rather easy task you given him, watch his own biological infant. He could do it blindfolded and with one arm tied to his back

The moment you walked out of the room, Muzan immediately plopped the blood red-eyed baby into his cute little playcrib as he sat down, right before Kuragari in his playarea, to pick up a nearby abandoned novel to skim through the hefty pages and pinpoint the chapter he was at. He took his eyes of the boy for only a minute or so when he realised the lack of cooing and giggling was concerning, looking up. His heart drooped in concern

He’s gone? He’s gone?! Where did he go?! He’s a baby! How is he gone already?!

Muzan almost panicked as he shot up from his comfortable plush arm chair and frantically checked every nook and cranny of the spacious room for Kuragari with some… or more, all furniture thrown at the walls along the way, no success further alarmed him. How is a few months year old already more fidgety and energetic than a bumbling four year old

Muzan ended up almost destroying the entire Infinity Castle in search for a single small demon. He truly had no clue where that bouncing newborn could be and the only reason he had a decent clue was because a number of trees leading down a specific dirt path, once transported out of the Infinity Castle, had the same fang-like bite marks in them. As if a baby animal was teething on the trunks

Perfect

The King of Demons couldn’t be anymore thankful that time itself had given him a shred of mercy and averted the sky to pitch black so the glowing moon would shower cool moonlight down on his dead white complexion. His slight relief was cut short when he finally found the source of sudden familiar giggling, he knew that voice belonged to his son so he followed it

And what he saw terrified him as he definitely had his hands too tied to be able to take action

That… that bastard, Tsugikuni Yoriichi holding his precious baby boy in his lap as Kuragari happily rose his cute tiny hands up to touch Yoriichi’s much bigger, calloused palms. The monstrous human had a very shocked expression on his face as his plum reds looked ready to swell up in tears, his heart touched by the Prince of Demons being so sweet and playful, despite being the enemy

Muzan knew very well he couldn’t intervene at all as the last time he hardly butted heads with that Yoriichi. He only got away with one single strand of his entire being left, it was far too close for his comfort though, he knew he also needed to get his beloved Kuragari back. The only solution that came to his head was you, the boy’s mother

You were a human, just like Yorichi. You could get the boy back, no problem. Unlike Muzan himself

Cemented on his meticulous plan to get his baby back from the monster, Muzan rushed back to the Infinity Castle at his top speed and seemingly arrived in the same room you stood before, just in the nick of time to greet you. “Greetings, my love. Where’s Kuragari?” You ask softly and almost immediately, out of concern as Muzan flinches guilty, sighing out to try relieve him of the stress. He should just tell you, no need to lie or gaslight you into believing such nonsense

“You know that beast, Tsugikuni. He has stolen our son. I only took my eyes off him for a minute, if not two and he was gone, I luckily tracked him down by the teeth marks on trees but I cannot get him back, you know” You sighed displeased, part of you knew this simple task would end in absolute disaster but since you loved the clueless demons, you just flashed a sweet, gentle smile and took his hand encouragingly

“Let’s go find our Kuragari then, my dear”

Laughing joyfully with your precious Kuragari sat on your lap, fiddling and pulling on the lengthy ends of your haori to entertain himself and satisfy his curiosity. You were perched on the open wooden edge-skirt of the homely Minka belonging to the one and only swordsman that ruled the battlefield with a platinum fist, Yoriichi himself. The same Yoriichi who apparently ‘stole’ your son but you got the actual picture from Yoriichi and it made you realise your husband is no where near competent with childcare

“I found this one crawling around my backyard. I don’t know how he got there but he seemed to have travelled miles and was hungry, he kept biting at everything” Every word that human man said felt very genuine and you weren’t ever gonna try deny that him and his statements were

His explanation of the situation made much more sense than what Muzan proclaimed happened, such a weird one nevertheless. Yoriichi didn’t even know your son existed in the first place, why would he go after him?

Needless to say… you and Yoriichi spent almost a hour trading innocent insults at Muzan and his so-called parenting style. You didn’t really hate your husband, he actually tried and took responsibility by telling you about losing him but he should always be watching Kuragari, the newborn should never left alone not had eyes taken off him for even a minute and somebody like Yorichi, who lost his soon-to-be-born child to a demon, knows that

You have learnt to never entrust Kuragari to Muzan, you will just have to go to Yoriichi instead

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run-me-through-but-not-like-that · 1 year

Text

Early Retirement

Summary: Izzy washes up on a beach after leaving the Revenge and rowing through a storm. Luckily for him, a kindhearted stranger took it upon themselves to take him in and nurse him back to health. Maybe even give him a new home.

Word Count: 6478

It’s cold. Too cold.

It seeped down into his bones and settled there until he couldn’t feel his limbs, he couldn’t feel anything other than that debilitating cold. He forced his eyes open but saw nothing but darkness, the salt stinging them. His lungs burnt in their attempt to suck in air but received nothing but water.

Then everything just…disappeared.

The amount of time that passed was a mystery to Izzy but when he came back to consciousness, it was warm. It felt like his body had thawed out, limbs heavy but at least he could feel them now.

His heavy eyelids blinked open, the sunlight coming in through a window making him wince. Everything had a slight blur to it but he could make out that he was in a bedroom, one that he definitely didn’t recognise. He was tucked into a bed, pillows cradling his head and plush bedding cocooning his body, his injured foot elevated on a pile of cushions.

The last thing he could remember was…the sea. Fuck. He had left the Revenge after Stede’s return, at least being allowed the dignity to make that decision himself. A freak storm had rolled in when he was half way to reaching land in his rowboat. It ripped his little boat to shreds and the ocean had pulled him beneath the waves.

He had barely even fought it when it happened. Izzy had always known this would be how he went, at the mercy of the sea, better than the end of a sword. Men like him didn’t get peaceful deaths, he accepted that a long time ago.

Yet, here he was and it was too warm and soft to be Hell.

As his senses returned to him he focused on a smell that wafted up from somewhere else in the house, it was something savoury, something warm and comforting.

He wasn’t alone then. It made sense, of course, but it still put him on edge.

Izzy tried to pull himself up from the bed but it felt like his body was weighed down and his foot throbbed when he tried to move it. With a grunt, he fell back down onto the bed. He could barely move, he’d need a proper plan before he flung himself out of bed.

Before he could try to move again, the door to the bedroom he was cooped up in opened. “You’re awake,” you smiled warmly, “how are you feeling?”

The pale, ragged, looking man in your guest bed was glaring at you. You were sure he would be threatening if he didn’t look like he just crawled out of an ocean grave.

“Where am I?” he questioned accusingly.

“Somewhere safe,” you assured him, ignoring his hostility as you crossed the room.

He hesitated, watching you cautiously. You supposed you couldn’t blame him, he was in a strange place and somewhat incapacitated.

“What happened?”

You sighed. “You washed up on the beach a few days ago. Saw you on a morning walk, thought you were dead by the look of you. Nearly scared the life out of me when you breathed,” you told him honestly.

“Days?” Perhaps his surprise would have been a little more audible if his voice wasn’t so scratchy. His wide eyes conveyed it enough though.

“Your foot is injured but it was wrapped so I assume you know that. You had an infection, have been in and out of consciousness with a fever for the last four days. I’m not surprised you don’t remember any of it,” you informed him.

“So you just happened upon me, dragged me back to your home, and nursed me back to health?” He was suspicious of you and he wasn’t trying to hide it.

“The doctor got some men to help haul you up from the beach and stopped you from dying on us, he left some medication, but then just left me to it.”

“Where are my things?” It was only then, as he shifted on the bed, that he realised he was only wearing his smalls under the blankets.

“For somebody who just avoided death, you are awfully quizzical,” you raised an eyebrow at him. “Everything that survived your little swim is safely stored in another room. I’m generous enough to try to help a stranger but not naive enough to let them have blades on them. I’ll bring you your clothes now that you’re awake and a pair of linen pants, they’ll be easier to get on and more comfortable than those leathers you washed up in.”

“So you know I could be dangerous?” Izzy squinted at you. You know he was dangerous but taking the chance anyway only made him more suspicious. People didn’t just do things out of the kindness of their hearts, especially for people who they thought were dangerous.

“No offence but when a man washes up on the shore, armed to the teeth and clad in black leathers, I don’t assume they’re just a travelling merchant,” you rolled your eyes.

“This happen a lot?” he asked sarcastically. At least he was well enough to give you some snark.

“Nope, you’re my first,” you shrugged, smirking slightly. “So, what do I call you?” you asked.

“None of your business,” Izzy growled, though it came out weak and scratchy.

“Well, you’re in my home but okay,” you rolled your eyes at him, as if he wasn’t a threat. Then again, he supposed he wasn’t much of a threat right now.

Izzy frowned, but his glare remained hard on you. “Who are you?”

“You tell me and I’ll tell you, for now you can just call me…your guardian angel,” you offered, making him scowl. “Anyway, you’re looking a lot brighter than when you washed up. You should be able to keep solid foods down now, so I made some healing stew special for you. Oh, and the bread just came out the oven this morning.”

Before Izzy could question you further, you had waltzed out of the room.

He didn’t have to wait long for you to return though, this time entering the room with a tray balanced on your hip. You walked up to his bedside, placing the tray down on the table beside his bed.

The tray held a bowl of stew, a couple slices of bread, a mug of herbal tea, and a glass of water.

Izzy just glared at the tray as you took a step back.

“Look, I’m not holding you hostage. If you want to leave, you can, but have some common sense and stay put for a while. Your foot was inflamed when you showed up, the doctor had to shave down the bone and redo the stitches. You need to rest it if you want it to heal properly,” you chastised him.

The man frowned, looking down at his foot. You saw the pain in his eyes and it made your voice soften. “Doctor said you’ll be able to move around in a couple of days if you use a crutch, then you’ll just have to use a cane. Once it’s healed though, he said it probably won’t affect your movement or balance at all.”

“You sure?” he dared to be hopeful.

“The doctor seems pretty sure. But you have to follow orders if you want it to heal properly. So you can’t go hobbling around looking for your ship just yet.”

He squinted at you, suspicions returning at full force. “What do you know about my ship?”

“Relax. I don’t know anything. I’m just not stupid, I figured you’re a pirate,” you shrugged.

Apparently, that only made him more suspicious of you. “And you still risked taking me in?” You had to have ulterior motives, it’s the only thing that made sense.

“You gonna kill me?”

“No. Not if you don’t give me a reason too.”

“Rob me.”

“No, unless I kill you.”

“...take me hostage and sell me?”

“No…”

Izzy sighed. You were right, he wasn’t a threat right now and even if he was, he had no intentions on hurting you unless you gave him a reason too.

“Then it looks like we’re safe,” you smiled, like you had just sorted some problem out. “Eat, I’ll be back soon to collect your dishes and change your bandages,” you ordered lightly before leaving the room again.

The next time you returned it was to take away his dirty dishes. He had emptied the bowl, having not realised how hungry he had been until he took that first bite. He would probably be able to eat more but knew better than to risk it, too much too soon could have him bringing it all back up.

You had brought some supplies with you to change the bandages on his foot. He had glared at you the whole time, as if expecting you to do something to purposely hurt him. You didn’t though. Instead, you handled his foot and ankle delicately, cleaned the wound as carefully as you could and rebandaged it. Working diligently, only speaking when you were apologising for something you couldn’t help or asking him if the bandages were too tight.

The rest of the day went much like that. He didn’t speak whenever you came into the room to bring him food or take away empty plates, and you didn’t try to engage him in conversation, just polite small talk before leaving again.

The next morning, Izzy woke up to you bringing him another tray of food. “Morning,” you greeted him, placing the tray down beside him. “Made you some breakfast, have to keep your strength up.”

Izzy tried to sit up, making himself wince. You moved quickly, helping him shift into a comfortable sitting position. His whole body still ached but the comfortable bed was helping, he couldn’t imagine how he would have felt if he had been recovering on his little cot back on the Revenge.

“How are you feeling?” you asked, sounding like you genuinely wanted to know, weren’t just being polite.

“Like my boat wrecked,” Izzy mumbled, letting you settle the tray over his lap.

“Well, that’s to be expected. You look better than you did yesterday already, that’s a good sign,” you encouraged. “I’ll be around, have some things to tend to, but just shout if you need something.” Izzy only nodded before you were out the door again.

The next few days went very much the same but with each passing day, Izzy could feel his strength coming back. He could sit up perfectly fine on his own, had even stood once, only to fall back down when his injured foot touched the floor. He could feel himself recovering, the room was comfortable and the food was good. He supposed he shouldn’t complain but…he was feeling cooped up, trapped, useless.

Izzy lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling when he heard movement outside his window. It was probably nothing of interest but even that was appealing to him right now.

He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, bracing his weight against the bedside table as he stood on his uninjured foot. He kept the wounded foot from touching the floor as he hobbled towards the window.

It was morning, you had just taken his breakfast dishes from his room, and the weather outside was bright. He looked out over the garden.

From what he could make out, he was on the second floor of a cottage, no other residences in sight.

From his window, he could see your garden where you were tending to your chickens. Tossing feed out for them. He lent against the window frame to support his weight and just watched.

You wiped your hands on your apron once you were finished tending to your chickens, looking up to see your guest in the window of the guest bedroom.

Izzy felt his face heating up, a shame building in his chest as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t. But you just smiled brightly and waved at him, silently noting to yourself to chastise him for moving around without support.

Izzy scowled at you from his position, perched on the edge of his bed.

“Here you go,” you presented him with the wooden crutch the doctor had given you for him. “Think you can manage?” you kept your hands out, as if ready to catch him if he fell, as he pulled himself to his feet, letting the crutch take the weight off of his bad foot.

“I’ve used a crutch before,” he grumbled, determined to be able to be properly independent again.

“Just making sure,” you were still watching him closely, hands hovering around him as you moved out of his way.

Rolling his eyes at you, Izzy gave the crutch a test run, using it to walk across the room without grabbing at tables and walls. You just nodded to yourself, satisfied that he was adjusting well to it.

“Listen, now you move around more by yourself but don’t take the piss,” you scolded, surprising him a little. “You still need to rest, to stay off of your foot as much as possible. Okay?”

As much as he wanted to scoff and dismiss you, he could tell you were serious.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Seriously, just accept some help, alright?” you found yourself rolling your eyes at him again, you had lost count of how many times you had done so since this man could hold a conversation again. Still, you found you did it with a little fondness.

Now that Izzy had started using his crutch, he could move around your cottage, moving up and down the stairs with your help. He insisted that he didn’t need your help but you wouldn’t let him near the narrow staircase unless you were with him.

At least that meant he could come downstairs and sit in the living room or the kitchen instead of being locked away in his room all alone, he could even go and sit outside and get some fresh air.

He was currently in the living room, you had left him in front of the fire with a selection of books to choose from, while you finished cleaning up in the kitchen. You had just put the last of the dishes away when you heard hissed cursing coming from the other room.

Tossing the rag down, you rushed into the living room to find Izzy standing, gripping the back of the couch with one hand and clutching his crutch with another. The pain was etched on his face.

“Alright, come on,” you spoke softly, with care, as you hurried to his side.

You took hold of his arm, listening to him complain as you encouraged him to lean some weight against you. Still, he let you guide him back to the couch and sit him down.

Once he was sitting and you had placed the crutch to the side, you knelt down in front of him and pulled his wounded foot into your lap.

He had knocked it against something when he was walking around and when you unwrapped the bandages you saw that it was a little red but looked perfectly fine otherwise. He hadn’t broken any of the stitches, he wasn’t bleeding, it didn’t look too irritated. Thankfully, he was still on the mend.

“You have to take it easy, be careful and don’t over do it,” you sighed. Something about this man told you that he wasn’t used to sitting idle for long.

“I’m fine. Just knocked it,” he insisted petulantly.

“Yeah, well…just be careful. Once the bandages come off for good and you can put proper weight on your foot again, you’ll be able to get around with just a cane.”

“And then I’ll have outstayed my welcome,” Izzy nodded like he was agreeing with something.

“What? No!” you frowned, sitting back on your heels. “Of course not. You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you need.”

Izzy blinked at you, face contorting in confusion. “Why?”

“Because I’m kind and you’ve been a decent guest so far,” you shrugged, like it was truly that simple and that true, standing and brushing off your knees. “Now, sit still for once and I’ll fetch you some tea,” you ordered and, well, Izzy could follow orders, couldn’t he.

You were just about to leave the room, just about to cross the threshold, when he spoke up.

“My name is Izzy.”

You paused in the doorway, taking a moment to make sure you had heard him correctly. You turned back to him with a smile, all soft and sweet in a way that warmed him from the inside out.

“Izzy,” you repeated, testing the word on your tongue. Izzy found that he liked the sound of it and you decided that you liked the feel of it. “I like it.”

Izzy only nodded when you gave him your own name, still smiling as you disappeared back into the kitchen to prepare that tea for the two of you.

That evening, the two of you enjoyed a soothing tea in front of the fire together.

“I think it makes you look distinguished,” you complimented as you monitored his movements, smiling at how far he had come since you found him half dead in the sand.

“That’s a generous way of saying old,” Izzy rolled his eyes, adjusting his hold on the handle of his new cane. It wasn’t anything fancy but it was simple and sleek, good enough for him in his opinion.

“Absolutely not,” you tutted. “Anyway, you wear the age well so it still wouldn’t be an insult,” you shrugged.

Izzy looked away from you meaningfully, hoping to play it off as casual. “If you say so.”

“You could get a real nice one with a silver handle or something. Oh! You can get one with a hidden knife in it!”

You could just picture holding a sleek but ornate cane, just simple enough to satisfy him. Looking all distinguished and formal until somebody says the wrong thing, looks at him the wrong away, and he unsheathes his hidden blade.

“Huh…that’s not a bad idea, actually,” Izzy hummed, looking at the cane more approvingly this time. Yeah, maybe he could make this work.

Evening tea had become a bit of a routine for the two of you now. Sitting in your cozy living room in front of the fire, blankets over your laps, a cup of tea in your hands, and maybe a book each depending on your mood. It was a pleasant, calming way to end the day.

Izzy kept glancing at you, watching as your eyes followed the lines in your book, lost in the fictional world. He wanted to speak, to get this off of his chest, to take the weight off of your shoulders but…but he found himself worried that saying what he needed to say would take all of this away from him. He liked this, even if it wasn’t a life made for him. He would miss it.

“I’m really able to leave now. I’d find a ship,” he finally managed to speak, to push the words out without faltering.

You paused, lowering your book to look at him. “And I’ve told you, you’re still welcome. I like living out of the way, like the quiet, y’know, but it’s been nice to have you here. You’re interesting and I enjoy your company. Izzy scoffed. “Really, I do,” you insisted.

“Well, you’re probably the only person who does,” he muttered, thumbing at the pages of the book he hadn’t been reading.

“That can’t be true.”

“Apparently, I’m difficult.”

“Okay…yeah, I can see that. But it’s kind of…endearing, you know?” you laughed a little.

Izzy pondered it for a moment, still not really believing it despite how sincere you sounded. “...if you say so.”

“I do,” you didn’t care how many times you needed to reassure him, he needed it and that was all you needed to know. “Anyway, don’t you go worrying about rushing out of here. You can stay as long as you need.”

“You wouldn’t want me here if you knew who I was,” Izzy insisted firmly.

“Well, tell me who you are, Izzy,” you placed your book down, completely forgotten about, so that he could see your full attention was on him. “Tell me, Izzy. It won’t change anything,” you promised.

Izzy sighed, placing his unopened book down as well, refusing to look at you as he spoke. “You can’t promise that.”

“You’ll never know unless you tell me,” you shrugged.

Izzy took a stabling breath but nodded, knowing you were right, that you would probably find out eventually anyway. It would be better if you heard it from him.

“My full name is Israel Hands and you were right about me being a pirate,” he started. For some, that would be enough information.

“...that name is familiar,” you hummed thoughtfully, trying to remember where you heard it. It didn’t sound like a common name and you were certain you didn’t know anyone with the name ‘Hands’, but you had definitely heard the name before somewhere.

“I’m the first mate of Blackbeard,” he added.

For a moment, you could only gape at him. It wasn’t everyday you found out you were housing one of the most infamous pirates of your time.

Izzy waited for the horror or disgust to set in. He knew the stories and tall tales people told, some true and others wildly fabricated. He knew that you had likely heard one or two stories yourself if you recognised his name.

You shook off the surprise but found yourself more confused about how he ended up here. “What is the first mate of Blackbeard doing washing up here with a missing toe?” you asked, not sounding disgusted or afraid of him.

“It’s a long story,” he sighed, figuring you didn’t really want to hear it anyway.

“I have the time.”

Izzy was certain that you were just being polite, perhaps even afraid that if you weren’t he would hurt you in some way, but when he looked at you, you were nothing but genuine. Your eyes held the usual care and sincerity that they usually did when they gazed upon him. Your smile was still soft. Like nothing had changed, and maybe it hadn’t.

So, unable to find a reason not to, Izzy told you everything. You just made yourself so easy to talk to. He started from the very beginning because you wanted to know who he was, not just how he ended up here.

He told you of a young boy at the docks sneaking onto a ship, of a cabin boy aboard Captain Hornigold’s ship, of a newly made captain and first mate that still had sparks in their eyes. He told you about the creation and rise of Blackbeard, of the fuckeries, the victories, and the losses. He told you about Queen Anne’s Revenge and of all the years they served her well. He told you of men growing bored and restless, of a ship christened The Revenge. Of the landed gentry come pirates.

He told you a saga of hope and pain that ended in betrayal, desertion, mutilation, reunion, and finally in the enlightenment that had Izzy Hands climbing into a dinghy in the middle of the night. Only two days away from shore. Only one day before a storm that only his previous captain could have predicted.

Izzy told you everything in front of a crackling fire, the warm mug of tea growing cold in his hands. And you listened, like he was somebody worth listening to.

That night, you both fell asleep in the living room. The fire burning out but the blankets draped over you both keeping you warm. For the first time in a long time, neither of you fell asleep alone.

When you woke up the next morning to find the other side of the couch empty and the house silent, you worried. Your talk last night went very well, in your opinion. Izzy had opened up and you had listened, had reassured him when he was finished or doubted himself.

You threw off your blanket and jumped to your feet, heading out the front door. You walked around to the rocks that overlooked the beach, finding him sitting there, looking out at the sea.

You relaxed at the sight of him, reassured that he hadn't run away in the middle of the night. You joined him quietly, he didn’t look up but he seemed to welcome your company.

The two of you watched the sun rise over the horizon but you couldn’t help stealing looks at Izzy’s face, he looked so…content. There was a faint longing in his gaze, lost in his thoughts, but he looked happy, the early morning sun illuminating his face.

“Do you miss it?” you asked, staring out at the gentle water with him.

“Sometimes…” Izzy confessed on a soft exhale. “It’s all I’ve ever known, really. It’s strange being on land. The ground is always so still.”

“Yeah, it tends to be,” you joked a little, catching the way the corner of his mouth tugged upwards in the imitation of a smile.

A beat of silence passed. “I understand if you want me to leave now.” Unfortunately, he kept speaking before you could protest. “My foot is healed enough. The worst that can happen now is that I need the cane for the rest of my life, I’m sure I’ll manage just fine.”

This again…you sighed.

“Izzy, I don’t want you to leave.”

“Even when you know who I am?”

“Even then,” you nodded, smiling fondly. “I’ve known you long enough to know you’re not some violent barbarian that people tell stories about. I’ve known you long enough to know you wouldn’t hurt me and that I’m rather fond of you. My home is open to you for as long as you want it to be,” you promised.

“Kindness gets people killed,” Izzy chastised quietly.

“Lucky thing I have the best swordsman in the Caribbean to protect me then, huh?” you teased, knocking your shoulder against his.

“Yeah…real lucky…” Izzy mumbled out at the ocean.

“So you’re staying?” you asked, not hiding the hope in your voice. Izzy just nodded. “Good, I’m glad,” your smile grew.

“At least for the time being,” he shrugged.

“I’ll just have to make the most of it then, won’t I?” You tried not to roll your eyes at his attempt to play coy. Izzy shook his head at you but found himself smiling despite himself.

“Now come inside and get something to eat,” you patted his shoulder.

Izzy let you help him to his feet and hand him his cane without complaint. He even let you take him by the arm and guide him back into the cottage, though he pretended that he didn’t find the whole thing comforting.

You walked into Izzy’s room, which you had started calling it instead of ‘the guest room’, and found him shaving in front of the mirror.

“Aw, I was likely the scruffy look,” you pouted playfully.

“It’s a fucking nightmate,” Izzy muttered as he shaved his cheeks clean. Now he could stop scratching at the stubble. You just chuckled fondly at him.

“Want me to trim your hair when you’re done?” you offered. His stubble had grown in almost enough to not be considered stubble anymore and his hair had grown as well, you figured he’d want that trimmed back down if he was so particular about his facial hair.

“I can do it myself.”

“I have no doubt. I usually do my own as well, but a little helping hand would do no harm.”

Moving on to neatening around his goatee, Izzy sighed. “Fine…just…”

“I’ll do it exactly the way you want, don’t worry,” you promised him.

“Fine.”

You sat on the bed while Izzy finished shaving and trimming his goatee until it was perfectly neat. Izzy’s stubble had grown in while he was bed bound, so this was your first time seeing him properly groomed the way he liked. Turns out, you liked it too.

He was huffy about it but allowed you to pick up the shears and comb through his hair. You worked slowly, making sure to speak to him and not take it too short. As you spoke and worked, Izzy seemed to relax, trusting you.

You cut his hair back down to the length he preferred but he still hadn’t slicked it back with pomade like he usually did, hadn’t done so since he woke up in this very bedroom. Instead, it hung loose and soft over his ears. It made him look soft, less intense. He supposed it was more suitable for his current living conditions so he tried not to dwell on it too much.

“There you go. You look lovely,” you complimented, running your fingers through his hair and letting it fall, smiling proudly at your handiwork. Izzy scoffed. “Oh just accept it,” you tutted, “you’re all neat and tidy again, all nice and handsome.”

“Christ,” Izzy complained, glaring at your reflection. “I will maim you.”

“Ah, so there is some pirate left in you. Very nice to see,” you teased. “I’ll leave you to keep grooming yourself.”

You could hear him muttering curses to himself as you left the room, giggling to yourself.

Izzy sat at the kitchen island, cane propped up beside him, peeling apples while you worked on making a pastry. “You really need to make a pie?” Izzy questioned, but didn’t slow his work.

“We need to use up the apples somehow or they’re just going to go bad and that would be a waste,” you reminded him. “Anyway, you’ll like it. I make a great apple pie.”

“...you’ll have a high standard to beat,” he warned.

“You’ve made me curious, Izzy,” you looked over at him but he didn’t look like he wanted to talk any further about it, so you didn’t push. “You can tell me another day.”

You continued to make the pie, the fluidity of your actions telling Izzy that you had indeed done this many times. You would give him a task here and there, and he would carry it out diligently. You could imagine him as a first mate, just as diligent on the deck as he was as your sous chef.

Izzy watched you plate up two slices of freshly baked pie. “Here, have a slice while it’s still warm,” you placed a plate in front of him. “Cream?”

“Sure,” Izzy nodded and poured some over his slice before joining him, sitting beside him. Izzy took a spoonful of pie and brought it up to his mouth before pausing and scowling at you. “Stop fucking watching me like that.”

“I want to know if you like it,” you whined.

“Then I’ll tell you,” he huffed.

“No you wouldn’t. You’d mumble ‘yeah, it’s fine’ even if it was the best thing you had ever eaten.”

Izzy fought back his smile, knowing you were right. “I promise to tell you just stop looking at me like that.”

“Fine,” you sighed heavily, dramatically. “If you insist.” No, you weren’t pouting.

But you also didn’t watch him eat, and that was enough to satisfy him. “Okay, yeah…” Izzy sighed after swallowing his second bite. “This is good,” he praised.

“Thank you,” you grinned, bright and proud, before digging into your own slice.

Izzy just chuckled and shook his head at you, going back to enjoying his pie.

Izzy slows his chewing when a thought dawns on him. This was all so…domestic, the way you moved around each other, shared the space together. He didn’t think he’d ever be sitting in a kitchen of a cute cottage, eating a pie that was made for him by his…fuck, he needed to shake off that thought immediately.

His what? His carer? The person who took him in when he was on death’s door, who took pity on him.

“We could go for a walk later, maybe even down to town if you feel up to it. Give that cane a proper test run,” you suggested between bites.

“Sure,” he agreed.

“But I swear, if I see a single flinch or hesitation in your steps, we are turning around and coming right back home.” You didn’t come off as a threatening person, you were rarely stern with him, but he knew you were being serious about this.

Maybe he was focusing on the wrong part of your warning but…

Home.

You talked about it like it was both your home and his home, a home you shared. Like it could be his home. Could this be his home? Fuck.

“Sounds good,” Izzy nodded.

Izzy had allowed himself to grow too comfortable, he only realised that when the worries seeped back in. He had grown used to your home, your presence. He didn’t like change, never had, and a lot of things had changed lately but the two of you had developed a bit of a routine that helped calm his nerves. Now it felt like it was all changing again.

You had been acting strange, almost distant towards him. As much as you could do while sharing the same space. He would often catch you losing yourself in through but never voicing them, never letting him in on it when he asked. Something was wrong, he must have done something wrong, it was the only thing that made sense. Maybe you were building up the courage to kick him out and send him on his way, you had realised he was more trouble than he was worth.

“Izzy, can we talk about something?”

This was it, you were going to ask him to leave. He has outstayed his welcome, if he has ever truly been welcome in the first place.

“Sure.” His voice didn’t falter and he was proud of himself for that.

“You told me how you ended up here, about what happened and I was wondering…well, the crew, Blackbeard, aren’t expecting you to return, are they?”

That question threw him off. Oh, maybe you were worried about Blackbeard coming to your shores and causing trouble. “Probably not. They’re probably relieved about it as well,” Izzy answered, honest but a little bitter about it, even he could admit to that.

“And you aren’t going to try to go back?” you asked, though the question wasn’t judgmental in any way.

“Wouldn’t be welcome if I tried, I imagine. But I have contacts, I’d find another ship or something,” he didn’t want to lie to you but he also didn’t want you to keep allowing him to live in your home out of pity or guilt. He would manage, he would survive, he always did.

“…Blackbeard was talking about retiring, right?”

Izzy felt himself sigh before he heard it. “Sure. Guess he managed it too, in his own way I suppose. Didn’t think retirement was a fucking option. Still not sure it is,” he admitted.

You looked nervous again, aimlessly fixing a cushion on the couch you both sat on. “What if this could be your retirement?”

“What do you mean?” Izzy frowned.

You might have huffed and rolled your eyes at him for being dense but you could see his genuine confusion. “Somewhere peaceful and quiet for you to relax. Good weather. Somewhere comfortable by the sea. Sounds like a good retirement spot to me…”

“I…what are you saying?”

You had to fight the temptation to reach out for him. “I’m saying that maybe you deserve to have a retirement too. Some…some good days without constant worry and fear. Maybe you deserve it and have earnt it just as much as Blackbeard,” you gave into the need, reaching out and placing your hand over his, “and I’m asking if you could have that here, I’m asking if you would stay.”

“You want me to stay…for good?” His face was scrunched up like he was trying to figure out some complicated puzzle. Like he didn’t believe that you could just want him to stay here with you.

“I do,” you nodded like it was as simple as that, because it was. “I’ve lived out here for a long time. Never felt lonely despite the distance I am from town. I think I would be lonely if you left. Think I would miss you. No, I know I would.”

“I don’t need charity,” Izzy growled, pulling his hand away from yours.

It made you ache but you didn’t fight him, didn’t try to touch him again, giving him the space he needed. “I’m not doing you a favour. I just want you here, Izzy. If you want to go, I’ll support you and do whatever I can to help, of course, but I want you to stay.”

Izzy couldn’t argue with you, apparently. He didn’t snap or accuse you of lying, he paused and considered it. Why would you lie? What would you be getting out of this if you were lying?

“…why?”

There was so much you could say, so much you had yet to put into words. But one of the many things you had learnt about Izzy during your time together was that actions spoke louder than words, the care you had shown him had earnt his trust more than anything you had said.

You acted before you could talk yourself out of it.

You shifted closer to him on the couch, placing a hand against his shoulder when you lent in. The kiss you pressed to his lips was short and tender, just enough to express the way you felt.

When you pulled back, hand still on his shoulder, he was just looking at you. The lines on his face softened and lips slightly parted as he blinked at you.

“Will you stay with me, Izzy?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” Izzy nodded, looking a little stunned but the answer felt right. “Yeah, yes, I will. I want to stay as well.”

You smiled adoringly, lifting your hand from his shoulder to stroke his cheek.

Izzy had woken up in your home thinking he had died out at sea but he knew there was no way that was the case because this couldn’t be his afterlife. He hadn’t done enough good to earn this, you were just giving him this out of the kindness of your heart.

He didn’t know what he did to deserve it, didn’t think he did deserve it, but he was here anyway. Maybe you were right, maybe this could be the next, maybe even the last, phase of his life. He would do whatever he could to earn it now, to earn you and this home.

#israel hands x reader #izzy hands x reader #izzy hands #ofmd izzy #our flag means death izzy #ofmd x reader

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rosewould · 1 year

Text

breathless; cs

🖱️⤻ pairing; afab!reader x san 🖱️⤻ word count; 4.2k 🖱️⤻ genre; smut 🖱️⤻ synopsis; movie night is the last thing on your mind when San is squeezing your thigh and reminding you of his naughty words on the walk there 🖱️⤻ warnings; unrealistic anal (pls suspend your disbelief), fingering (anal again), piv, breath play, san is rough during and soft in between, squirting, multiple orgasms, slight overstim, dirty talk, unprotected sex (a staple atp), I think that's all

⌨️⤻ I started writing this a whiiiile ago I’m talking years, so sorry if some things sound weird (like the very beginning). Also Moment by Victoria Monet is a good song to listen to during the smut.

Friends with benefits had to start somewhere, right? For you it started with the smell of rain through your cracked window and your plush comforter tangled around your body. You inhale deeply, soaking in the immense amount of comfort you were feeling. All of that Saturday night bliss was interrupted by a loud knock at your window–

Window?

Your eyes shot open, your torso jerking upward upon seeing the outline of a human being in your window. You gasp loudly before realizing it was San. Scrambling out of bed, you hurriedly slide the window open. That impish smile he always sported stops your incoming lecture.

"Give me attention, Wooyung's angry at me and Seonghwa's boring as always." He doesn't wait for your answer, just kicking his legs forward into your room. He maneuvers behind you and before you could turn he's already wrapping his hoodie-clad body around yours. He locks his arms around you, sighing contently. You can't help but inhale the strong scent of rain and a soft hint of his woody cologne.

"You were that desperate that you climbed up to my second story window?" You turn slightly, peering at his face nuzzled in the crook of your neck. He chuckles, a puff of air hitting your neck and leaving goosebumps.

"Don't call me desperate, it makes me feel pathetic." You can hear his pout in his voice. The same pout that sparks something in you from time to time.

"But you are pathetic Sannie." You mock his obnoxiously cute act. You unlock his arms from around you to take a shower. When you come back he's relaxing on your bed, hood over his head. His eyes are glued to his phone until he realizes you're present. He peers at you, not moving his head an inch.

"Go brush your teeth, nasty." He scrunches up his nose. You rush over and pull his hood over his face. He pulls it away to show his betrayed expression.

"I just did, dickhead." You mutter, trying to do it again but he catches your wrists. You grunt, trying to pull them away but he just catches them again. With your hands in his grasp, he pushes himself up into a kneeling position.

"You're lying, come here lemme smell."

You hurriedly free yourself and grab a pillow to wack him upside his head. You flee the bed before his arms can catch you but it’s no use. He rushes over to you before you could run away and puts you in a headlock. You growl unconvincingly before biting his arm. He yells like he was mortally wounded and you fervently shush him, knowing the footsteps approaching your door was someone on the way to scold you.

The door flies open with your member, Alice, appearing behind it. She looks at the two of you in silent confusion for an uncomfortable amount of time. Her eyes linger on San. "Don't you have a fucking dorm?!" She raises her hand up, gesturing toward him in a desperate search for clarity on the situation.

"Did you get kicked out of KQ my guy? Why are you always here?" San groans loudly, rolling his eyes before letting you go.

"Alice your nagging is causing me serious pain, leave before I have a stroke." He shoos her away but she'd already slammed the door before she could see the gesture.

"Go home before I call Sean Kim you parasite!" She yells mid stair descent. San's eyes linger on the door.

"I can't tell if she's serious- hey!" He sees you trying to escape and runs after you, throwing you over his shoulder.

"Let's go to my dorm before she actually calls the man."

–🖱️▷

Wooyoung was always so comfortable to be around. Hence why your head was on his shoulder and not San's. You look down at your hand as he interlocks his fingers with yours. He was very inviting, but also extremely attractive in a personality sense. He had your heart beating faster with every look, every touch, and man did he touch a lot. He was always nipping the shell of your ear as well, which you had gotten used to for the most part.

Upon your arrival, the boys decided it was an impromptu Saturday movie night. It would happen every Saturday but due to your schedules, it’s more of a once a month type of thing. You were seated in the living room with four out of the eight members surrounding you on the couch. San had disappeared somewhere and you wondered where he was until you felt a presence behind you. You turned to see San towering over you and Wooyoung. He had two blankets over his shoulder. Wooyung looked at him with a neutral expression.

"I thought you guys were angry with each other, so dramatic."

"He is angry! Look at him!" San exclaimed, pointing frantically at Wooyoung. You glance over at the man, who stares back at you with the same normal expression. You look back at San.

"San are you sick?"

"Sick of you guys." He shoves Wooyoung over by his head. Wooyoung exclaims in disbelief, sporting the cutest look of betrayal. "No cuddles from me or ___ today." Wooyoung warns, scowling at San before settling at the opposite end of the couch.

"Me neither." Seonghwa adds as he walks in with chips. San feigns laughter as he settles between you and Wooyoung.

"Separating ___ and I isn't going to make me cuddle you instead." San snaps his head towards Wooyoung who's giving him a knowing look. "I-I didn't- let's just start the movie."

You peek over at Hongjoong, who's still on his phone despite the movie being on. Mingi and Yeosang’s eyes are glued to the screen, though. You smile at the intense focus on their faces and flinch when you feel a hand on your leg.

Usually, Wooyoung would be the one doing so and you were used to it. Wooyoung, however, was on the other side of San. You look up at his face. When he senses your eyes on him, he slowly turns his head to look back. Your eyes linger on each other for a moment. You furrow your brows at him, but his eyes can't seem to stay on yours. He nips at his bottom lip before regaining the courage to look into your eyes again. Even under the dynamic coloring from the television, you could see that his face is significantly redder.

You gasp slightly when he squeezes your thigh. The look in his eyes was nervous yet determined. You scoot closer to him instinctively, and he whispers in your ear.

"I wasn't joking around earlier."

With his lips dangerously close to your ear, your mind immediately reflects back to your late-night walk to his dorm.

San jetted forward, easily leaving you in the dust. You yell after him but fail to catch up. You hunch over, hands resting on your knees as you catch your breath.

"Fine! If you're gonna leave me I'm going back home!" You cross your arms, cranky eyebrows starting to form. You hear his footsteps getting closer behind you and your expression unwittingly melts into a smile. You yelp as he lifts you up and spins you in a circle from behind. His arms fitted with the thick material of his hoodie feel like heaven around you. The light sprinkle of rain does little to drench either of you, just leaving tiny dots of moisture on both your jackets and filling your nostrils with the scent. You turn your head and catch a glimpse of his face, his prolonged journey through the rain dampening the hair sitting on his forehead. Your eyes slowly trail to the few droplets that linger on his lips. You slap at his arm.

"Hey, shhh! We gotta be careful!" You whisper.

"Says the one screaming." He spins you around once more before hugging you tightly against him. You whine in protest, this hug hurting more than anything.

"I can't breathe."

"Don't you like breath play?"

"Stop using my drunk words against me."

He loosens his grip a bit to look into your eyes. "You want me to do that for you? It's been a while since Joo-"

You interrupt him with a loud gasp.

"What did you just say?!"

He moves his lips next to your ear, brushing against it slightly before his breath tickles at your skin.

"I can push your face into the mattress." You can hear the grin on his face. You immediately push him away, laughing loudly.

"You're so disgusting!" You run away from him toward the building, hearing him cackle behind you.

San jokes like this normally. He made sexual remarks all the time, to you and the rest of his friends. There was never any sexual tension. You stare blankly at him as you recollect how the remarks made your heart race each time. How could you not imagine it when he spells it out for you like that?

He lifts his hand off your leg, leaves the couch, and disappears down the hallway behind you. You watch, but your legs are stuck. If you leave now it'll be too obvious, and you're way too self-conscious. Everyone seems to be immersed in something. Be it snacks, the movie, or their phones. Still, you employ a precautionary measure just in case.

“Guys is that the bathroom by the front door?” Your announcement earns you a barrage of shooshes, even from Hongjoong who’s clearly playing some game on his phone. “That’s a closet. The bathroom is the second door to your left.” He answers distractedly, still glued to his phone. “Down the hallway.” He points, finally lifting his gaze.

You move the blanket from on top of your lap and make your way out of the living room. No curious or suspicious eyes are cast upon you as you leave, making you confident everything went as planned. Hopefully they don’t notice you’ll probably be back after longer than is expected for a bathroom break.

You carefully open the door to the first bedroom, straining your eyes to search for San. You start to turn once you don’t see him when you feel hands on your waist. Your heart immediately kicks up in speed, just his hands on you making your lower abdomen dissolve into a pit of lava.

“I was waiting for you.” His lips against your ear again has you boiling over and flipping around to face him. He dips his head lower, demolishing whatever was left of that line you’ve been toeing since you met. There’s no ignoring the tension between you as your faces hover ever so close, the threat to change your dynamic forever too inevitable to ignore.

You’ve been practically vibrating since he put his hand on your thigh. You grab his waist before planting a quick experimental kiss on his lips. You don’t even fully pull back before he’s grabbing your face and melding your lips together. The jittery feeling only intensifies as your lips glide against one another. You were unsure despite officially unleashing a hidden desire you’ve had for a long time. The kiss deepens and your small noises grow in desperation until he’s moving the both of you into the bedroom. You push him against the door, closing it in the process. It was a little loud but you’re too busy trying to shove your tongues down each other’s throats to care.

Harsh breaths are shared between the two of you as your hands ravish each other. You gasp in his mouth when he squeezes your ass, feeling your core weep for him. “I can’t take it anymore, San.” You suck in a shaky breath, eyes focused on his lips. His hair still being a little damp from the rain and his lips a little swollen are what you take note of in the blue light of the moon. Then it’s his eyes with desperation to match yours.

He smirks before throwing you over his shoulder, pulling a surprised giggle from your chest. He tosses you down on the bed, feeling his pants grow tighter as you turn over and raise your ass into the air. He wishes he could have you on your back, watching you splayed out underneath him with those lust filled eyes. Pushing your face into the mattress would do just fine, though. San pulls your underwear and pajama pants over the swell of your ass, tugging it all the way down and almost off until you stop him.

“What if we hear someone coming? We can’t get completely naked.” You whisper frantically. He shushes you, soothingly unlike his members moments earlier. You feel his soft lips start pressing into the skin of your thighs and you shiver. He kisses all the way up to your ass, making his way closer to your asshole and dripping core. “Want you to be comfortable.” He presses a long, wet kiss to your anus and your guard weakens. You let him take your pants off completely as he repeats the kiss.

A long swipe of his tongue catches just the edge of your vagina, focusing on flattening against your other hole. You groan, peeking your head back to watch him. “We have to be quick.” You murmur, barely protesting as he laps between your cheeks. “S-San.” You mewl.

“Hm?” His voice rumbles against your hole before he starts flicking his tongue against it. No one has ever done this for you and you never imagined it could feel like this.

“F-feels so good.” You whine, your voice suddenly unfamiliar as you spread your cheeks for him. Both your holes flutter, more wetness seeping from your cunt. He presses his tongue against you, the suction-like sound filling the room is filthy. You can feel his saliva building up and dripping to mix with your own slick. “Oh god.” All you can do is whimper as he goes to town on your hole, providing stimulation so new and unfamiliar, yet so intoxicating.

Your pleasure never peaks, just stays consistently potent until suddenly your legs are shaking and your pussy is clenching. You stutter out curses as you dig your fingers into your ass. San overlaps his hands with yours, forcing a harsher spread as he eats you out through your sudden orgasm. “Fuck– San, fuck!” Your hands fall from your body and you grip the covers as he stimulates you just a little too long. He plants two loud and obnoxious kisses on your anus before standing up. You look back just in time to see the thick string of saliva that keeps you linked until it breaks away.

He walks away while pulling his shirt off, sauntering breathlessly to a nearby dresser. You watch his muscular upper body as he sorts through the top drawer and pulls out a tiny bottle. He walks back with a lazy grin, looking breathtaking under the moonlight. He frees his lower body, shuffling off the remaining clothes and kicking them away. He stands rigid, red and angry from the lack of attention. He pours the lube into his palm before rubbing it over the shaft. You watch longingly as he tosses his head back, releasing a low groan as he twists his hand around.

“I don’t think you need that.” The exorbitant amount of natural lubricant on your ass and vagina were starting to get uncomfortable.

“Mm, I will,” He tosses the lube on the bed before pressing a finger against your anus, “for this hungry hole.” He pushes the finger covered in lube to fuck into you. Your jaw drops open, head falling back against the bed. You thought this would feel like nothing, considering it’s not as sensitive as a pussy, but it’s an entirely different but welcome sensation. Your hole sucks his finger in, proving just how hungry it is.

“You probably never give attention to this hole, huh?” He fucks it in a little faster, testing the waters and watching as you shake your head. “I’m gonna show you how good you could feel. It’s been too long since someone fucked you right.” He twists his finger, pushing in to his second knuckle and humming at your surprised noises. “Let’s make up for lost time.” He coos before thrusting his finger into you at high speeds, your legs shutting doing nothing to dull the staggering pleasure he’s brought upon you.

Your back repeatedly curls and uncurls until San uses his other hand to hold you still. Tender kisses on your thighs momentarily ground you but you can feel a fierce fire building. The sudden emptiness you feel has you sitting up. San pushes your upper half back onto the bed before admiring the way your hole gapes a little wider. He digs his fingers into the meaty flesh of your ass before spreading it again, watching your hole beg to be filled. He growls, giving you one last squeeze before hitting you with a barrage of spanks. High pitched whimpers fly from your mouth as you flinch from each slap. “Give it to me,” You cry, sending a finger down to circle your clit. “please.”

He smacks your ass one last time. “Yeah? Want me to fill your greedy ass?” He grabs your hair, lifting you from the bed, groaning salaciously at your eager nods. He pushes your head into the mattress and lines himself up to push inside your asshole at the same time. Your harsh gasp is muffled by the bed, followed by all your bewildered noises as he fucks your hole open.

Yet another foreign sensation confuses your frazzled senses as you desperately try to get over the initial shock. Once you do it’s like you hear angels singing. You’re reminded of just how much you love the sensation of being deprived of air. The way it clouds your brain and makes you feel like you’re floating. All with a slight burning discomfort that only makes it sweeter.

Your finger twitches against your clit, a touch overwhelmed by all the different sensations being thrown your way. Your ears start to ring, blocking out how sexy San sounds praising you as his voice trembles. His cock had bottomed out by now and you can feel him so deep inside you. Just the thought of his tip buried where no one’s ever been has you quickening your finger.

Your heart starts to slow and your limbs start to go numb so you let out a warning noise and San holds you up immediately. Your fingers squish against your saturated fold as your eyes roll back. You’re officially on cloud nine as violent waves of pleasure roll through your entire body, leaving you a quivering mess as you cum harder than you thought possible. You don’t realize what position you're in until you come down and feel San’s chest against your back. His body flush against you, still buried to the hilt. “You good?” He whispers, embracing you softly while you surface again. You hum and nod, still unable to speak after the mind blowing orgasm. You chuckle lightly, realizing you’re gonna be filling your ass a lot more after this.

“Good.” San holds you steady as he pulls out of you, making you both groan. He flips you onto your back and smooths his hands up your stomach. He kisses your belly button and moves down to the sensitive space right above your crotch, peppering kisses there until you dissolve into a fit of giggles. “Want me to do it again?” He laughs when you nod eagerly. “Never thought I would like butt stuff.”

“No, I’m filling your pretty pussy this time.” The way he says such vulgar things in such a lovely way is astonishing. “I mean breath play. Are you ready to go again?”

“Uh-huh.” You give him a small smile, feeling excited again. Your excitement spikes when he tugs you closer by your legs. He leans closer and captures your lips, brushing his member against your swollen mound in the process. A mewl is transferred from your mouth to his and you can feel him start to shift. His noises get deeper, growling against you. His hands ravage you rougher as well and it stokes the fire in your belly.

“You should’ve told me you wanted this so bad.” He nudges your nose with his own and you feel his velvety tip brush your clit. You flinch, it’s still sensitive from the last time you came. “Poor thing is cock starved.” He coos mockingly. Your bite back is lost as he slams inside, leaving you seeing stars with your mouth agape. When your vision clears you see his sinister smile as he reaches for a pillow. “I’ll fuck you until all you can think about is my dick.” He breathes before covering your face with the pillow. Hard, punishing pounding is what follows as you’re submerged in darkness. Your pelvises knock together with deafening slaps joined with the creamy sounds of your cunt.

With your breathing obstructed all your other senses are heightened. His skin is so soft where you’re joined together, and through the sea of your arousal you can just make out the smooth, delicate skin of his shaft moving along your walls. His tip parts you open, starting the process to reopen your pussy for fucking. Just the thought of spending hours with San, restoring your hole to how it once was and then some. San is much thicker than the man previous and you can feel your rim struggling to compensate.

San pushes your shirt over your breasts to watch them bounce with each smack of his hips. He presses his hand further into the pillow, smothering you just as much as you needed to get you there. Time seemingly slows, San’s voice echoes out and your brain is filled with a thick fog. You tap his hand three times and he stops. He pulls the pillow away, letting you suck in a good amount of air and making sure you’re alright. The minute he sees your feature twisted in euphoria he places the pillow back over your face. He presses down again until your hips are twitching and you feel a tight pressure in your stomach. You choke out a thick whimper as you clamp your legs around San’s hips. The high squeal you let out is fully unintentional. Your stomach is on fire, searing you endlessly as your vagina feels like it’s erupting. San makes a noise in shock, letting go of the pillow and gripping the bed on either side of you. You shove the pillow off your face, thinking you’ve just pissed yourself and gape at the sight.

Your pussy is engorged, squirting all over San’s lower half. Your tummy tightens as you watch San fuck through the pressure and resist being pushed out. You throw your head back, back arching as you’re pushed far past the edge. San rests his palm on your lower abdomen before pushing in, prolonging your explosive orgasm. No noises breach past your throat, just remain trapped as he continues thrusting. “San! I can’t take it-” You squeeze. He finally pulls out, leaving your body to convulse as he bites his lip. He watches you with heavy lids, stroking your juices over his cock. “Taking me so well.” He praises darkly before slapping his tip against your mound.

He leans back over you, grabbing your hands and stretching your arms above your head. “I’m gonna make a mess of that cunt of yours.” He smirks and breathes a laugh before thrusting back in. He pushes in so easily he bottoms out immediately. He maintains his depth and thrusts shallowly, letting his balls slap against your spent asshole. “Wanna see you while I cum inside.” San drops his hips and plants a deep kiss on your lips.

With a steady rhythm he moves like water, swinging his hips and arching his back before thrusting back deep inside you. Your eyes trail down his features, finally able to take in just how beautiful he looks while you’re curled around him. The slight shine to his eyes as each drag of his cock brings him closer to cumming. The way his firm expression cracks more and more. If your hands were free you’d trace every curve and mark of his face. His rhythm wavers, his brows drawn together tightly as he examines your face just as you’re doing to him. Finally, he succumbs to the pleasure, letting go of your hand and fisting the covers as he gets painfully close.

You reach up and grab his face and pull him closer until your foreheads are touching. The squeeze of your belly surprises you, you’re gonna cum again. His hips shudder, the heat in his crotch getting hotter with each second. He raises his brows, mouth parting as he feels his cum being pumped from his cock. He lets out an unexpectedly loud noise as he drops his hips one more time. He pushes his hips forward until you’re being lifted off the bed. You shoot your hand down frantically, circling your clit until your cunt starts spasming around his cock.

He wraps his arms around your torso and pulls you close, staying buried inside you as he spurts rivulets of cum inside you. Small kisses are littered along your collarbone and shoulder until he fully collapses, resting his head on your shoulder.

All your concerns about cleaning up and not getting caught fade away as exhaustion takes a hold of you. With San’s arms tightly wrapped around you, you feel safe and secure. Four orgasms later, you’re utterly spent. Plus, all that matter right now is the man on top of you.

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