mivalyn

[mivalyn]

With you, always

Soap x gn! reader

Cw: depressive episode, depression

Word count; 1,017

The room is silent except for the faint hum of the heater, but you can’t seem to feel its warmth. You sit curled up on the couch, a blanket draped loosely over your shoulders, staring at nothing in particular. It’s been days since you’ve felt like doing anything—eating, moving, even existing. The weight pressing down on your chest feels immovable, like it’s part of you now. You’ve stopped fighting it.

The sound of the door opening barely registers. It’s not locked. You never remember to lock it these days. Heavy boots thud softly against the floor, followed by the quiet rustle of bags. You know it’s him. Soap. He always comes, no matter how many times you tell him he shouldn’t. You want to tell him to leave, that you don’t deserve this kind of attention, but the words are too heavy to lift.

“Hey, love,” he calls gently, his voice as soft and bright as sunlight through a window. You hear him setting something on the kitchen counter, and then his footsteps pad closer. “Still camped out on the couch, huh? Good. Makes my job easier.”

He rounds the couch and crouches in front of you, his eyes scanning your face with all the tenderness in the world. His brow furrows slightly, concern flickering in his expression, but he doesn’t let it linger long. Instead, he offers you one of his playful, lopsided smiles, the kind that tugs at the corners of your heart even when you’re certain it’s beyond repair.

“Brought dinner,” he says, gesturing toward the kitchen. “And by ‘dinner,’ I mean somethin’ you’ll actually eat, not whatever excuse for food you’ve been survivin’ on.” He leans in conspiratorially. “Don’t think I don’t know about the crisps and energy drinks, aye? You’ve been caught.”

You want to roll your eyes, but all you manage is a faint exhale that might be the ghost of a laugh. His smile softens at the sound, like it’s worth more to him than all the gold in the world. Without waiting for a reply, he stands and disappears into the kitchen. When he returns, he’s holding a tray—soup, some soft bread, and a glass of water. It smells warm, comforting, like something homemade.

“Right,” he says, plopping down beside you with the tray balanced on his lap. “We’re doin’ this the easy way. You don’t have to lift a finger. Just open that pretty mouth for me, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

You stare at him, a mix of disbelief and exhaustion weighing your expression. “Soap, I—”

“Nope,” he cuts you off gently but firmly. “None of that ‘I can’t’ business. You don’t have to do it alone. That’s why I’m here, yeah?”

His voice is so soft, so full of love, that it breaks down the last of your resistance. Before you can argue, he’s scooping up a spoonful of soup, blowing on it gently until it’s cool enough, and holding it up to your lips. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Just a little. For me?”

You don’t know why, but you open your mouth, and he carefully feeds you the first spoonful. The warmth of it spreads through you, not just in your chest but deeper, like it’s chasing away the numbness that’s wrapped itself around your heart. Soap beams at you like you’ve just won a gold medal.

“There’s my good one,” he says, his voice dripping with pride. “See? Told you we could do this.”

He feeds you slowly, spoonful by spoonful, murmuring sweet words in between bites. He tells you how proud he is, how much he loves taking care of you, how you’re the strongest person he knows—even if you don’t see it. His free hand never stops moving, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, tracing soft circles against the back of your hand, pressing fleeting kisses to your temple every time you manage another bite.

When the soup is gone, he sets the tray aside and pulls you into his arms without hesitation. His warmth engulfs you, solid and unshakable, like a cocoon. You melt into him, your face pressed against his chest, his heartbeat steady and strong beneath your ear. His hands roam gently, one stroking your back in soothing circles, the other cradling your head like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

“You’re so brave,” he murmurs against your hair. “You know that? Just bein’ here, just tryin’—that’s more than enough. You’re more than enough.”

Your chest tightens, and tears spill silently down your cheeks, soaking into his shirt. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t pull back. Instead, he holds you tighter, rocking you gently as he peppers kisses across your hairline.

“That’s it, love,” he whispers. “Let it out. You don’t have to be strong all the time. Not with me. I’ll be strong enough for the both of us, aye?”

You don’t have the strength to reply, but you don’t need to. He keeps talking, his words a steady stream of love and reassurance, each one wrapping around you like a soft blanket. “You’re not alone,” he promises. “Not now, not ever. I’ll be here every step of the way, no matter how long it takes. We’re a team, you and me.”

His fingers comb gently through your hair as the tears start to subside. You feel wrung out but lighter, the crushing weight on your chest a little less suffocating. Soap shifts slightly, pulling the blanket up around both of you, and leans back against the couch so you’re fully tucked into his side.

“There we go,” he says softly, pressing a final kiss to your forehead. “Now, how about we stay like this for a while, hmm? No rush, no worries. Just you and me.”

You nod faintly, the smallest motion, but he catches it and beams like you’ve just handed him the world. His arms tighten around you, and for the first time in days—maybe weeks—you let yourself relax. You let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you’ll be okay. Because he’s here, and he loves you, and that’s enough.

[mivalyn]

Unbridled lust

Sylus x fem! reader

Cw: vaginal sex, anal sex, fingering, rough sex, unprotected sex

Word count: 1,198

The antique clock chimes midnight, its melancholic melody a stark contrast to the heat simmering between you. Rain lashes against the windows of the secluded manor house, a rhythmic counterpoint to the frantic thumping of your heart. Sylus dominates the dimly lit room, his shadow falling over you like a shroud. His gaze is ravenous, a hunger in his eyes that speaks of centuries of unmet desire. He reaches out, his touch feather-light as he caresses your cheek, then trails his fingers down the curve of your neck, tracing the delicate line of your collarbone. A thrill of anticipation shoots through you as his fingertips brush against your nipples, already taut peaks beneath your thin shirt. The contact ignites a spark of pure electricity, a deep ache blossoming in your core. A wicked smile curves his lips, teeth flashing in the candlelight, and with a swift, almost violent movement, he rips open your shirt, baring your breasts to the cool air. His eyes devour the sight of your pink, hardened nipples, and with a groan, he leans down, capturing one between his teeth. He swirls his tongue around the tender flesh, suckling with a surprising, exhilarating fervor. The sensation is unlike anything you’ve experienced, a delicious blend of pain and pleasure that draws a moan from your lips and arches your back, begging for more. His hands continue their exploration, pausing at the waistband of your pants, a tantalizing promise of the carnality to come.

Your eager response emboldens him. His hands slip beneath the fabric of your pants, cupping and squeezing your ass, pulling you flush against the undeniable hardness pressing against his jeans. He releases your nipple with a wet pop, leaving it swollen and sensitive, then moves to lavish the same attention on the other. As he suckles, his fingers find the sensitive bud of your clit, rubbing against it through the thin barrier of your panties. Waves of pleasure ripple through you, your breath hitching in your throat as the dampness between your legs intensifies. Then, with a slow, deliberate stroke, he slides a finger down the back of your pants, his touch finding and teasing the sensitive entrance to your asshole. He circles the tight ring of muscle, spreading your slick arousal, and a gasp escapes your lips as he pushes a single digit inside. The sudden intrusion is both shocking and thrilling, the feeling of fullness and the exquisite blend of pleasure and discomfort sending shivers down your spine. Sylus groans, his own desire evident in his ragged breathing. You are both teetering on the edge of control.

The pressure of his finger within you intensifies, and your body responds instinctively, pushing back against him, urging him deeper. He returns to your nipple, suckling harder, the rhythm of his finger mirroring the movement of his mouth, a dual assault on your senses that threatens to shatter your composure. Your hips buck involuntarily, seeking friction, release, but he remains in control, expertly keeping the pleasure just out of reach. Then, abruptly, he withdraws his finger, leaving you panting and aching for more. A devilish smirk plays on his lips as he drops to his knees, his eyes locked on yours as he peels away your pants and panties, revealing your glistening cunt. He leans in, his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh, and then his tongue traces a slow, agonizingly delicious line from your clit to your asshole, sending another jolt of electricity through you. The tip of his tongue circles the puckered entrance, teasing with feather-light touches until you can bear it no longer. "Please," you beg, your voice a breathless whisper. "Fuck me." A low chuckle rumbles in his chest as he rises, his now freed cock standing proud and slick with precum. He aligns himself with your entrance, the head nudging against your swollen folds. With a single, powerful thrust, he buries himself deep inside, filling you completely, sending you spiraling into a vortex of pure ecstasy.

Your bodies move together in a frenzy of passion, his thick cock stretching you, sending waves of pleasure radiating outwards with each deep, punishing stroke. His movements grow more urgent, more demanding, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. You can feel your inner walls clenching around him, desperate to milk him dry. "Sylus, please," you moan, your voice thick with lust. "I need you to fill me up." His eyes flare at your words, his pace quickening, a brutal rhythm that has you seeing stars. Your orgasm builds, a pressure so intense it borders on pain, your entire being focused on the point of connection between you. As if sensing your imminent release, he reaches around, his thumb brushing against your asshole before pressing gently. The added sensation is the final trigger, and you shatter around him, your pussy convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. He follows close behind, his cock swelling, pulsing as he spills his hot seed deep inside, your cries of release echoing in the room. You remain joined for a moment, your breaths mingling, your hearts beating in unison. Then, with a final, tender kiss, he withdraws, leaving you sated yet yearning for more.

His smirk widens at your evident need. He knows what you crave, and he is eager to provide. Withdrawing from your still-trembling pussy, he repositions himself at your tight, untouched asshole. The tip of his cock, glistening with your combined fluids, presses against your entrance, offering no time to prepare for the invasion to come. You bite your lip, squeezing your eyes shut as he begins to push inside. The stretching sensation is intense, bordering on painful, yet laced with a thrilling anticipation. His girth is overwhelming, but your body yields to his relentless pressure, slowly accommodating his invasion. He takes his time, inch by agonizing inch, filling you until you feel him fully sheathed within your ass. His hands grip your hips, anchoring you as he begins to move, his strokes long and slow, allowing you to adjust to the unfamiliar sensation. As the initial discomfort fades, pleasure blossoms, a deep, guttural feeling that resonates through your core. Each thrust hits a hidden point of sensitivity, sending shivers down your spine, and you moan his name, a prayer on your lips. His pace increases, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room as he claims your ass with a fiery passion. The intensity builds, your muscles clenching around him, and you know you are close. "Sylus," you gasp, "I'm going to cum." He grunts in response, his own climax nearing. As he reaches around to rub your clit, you shatter, your ass clenching tight around his cock as you cry out your release. Moments later, he follows, his hot cum filling you as he empties himself inside, your bodies joined in the most primal and intimate of ways. The room falls silent, save for the sound of your ragged breaths. In that moment, you are one, bound by lust and a connection that transcends words.

[mivalyn]

🌸 Soft as his love 🌸

König x fem! reader (fluff)

There is a bit of self-reflection in this one

Word count: 1,346

The room was quiet, wrapped in the kind of stillness that made you feel like the world outside had faded away.

The golden light of the bedside lamp cast everything in soft hues, turning shadows into gentle shapes and softening the edges of the insecurities swirling in your mind. König sat beside you, his massive frame taking up so much of the bed, yet his presence was nothing but comforting. There was a softness about him now-more than just his size, there was a warmth that filled the room, a reassurance in the way his body leaned closer to yours.

He was watching you now, though not in the way that made you feel scrutinized or small. His gaze held patience, warmth, and a quiet love that never demanded anything of you, even when you were too scared to give him all of yourself. You shifted under his gaze, your hands nervously twisting the hem of your shirt, your mind stuck on the weight of the scars hidden beneath, and the soft, plush curve of your body that you couldn't help but feel self-conscious about.

Finally, unable to take the silence, you mumbled, "I know they're ugly."

Your voice was small, barely above a whisper, and you avoided his eyes as you gestured vaguely to your arms, your thighs, and your stomach. The extra softness, the little bit of chub that you carried with you, always made you feel out of place-like something was wrong with the way you had filled out over time.

König shifted slightly, leaning toward you, and you braced yourself for his response. But when he finally spoke, his voice was steady and soft, laced with something tender enough to make your chest ache.

"Ugly?" he repeated, as though the word was completely foreign to him.

"Schatz, no. No, they're not ugly."

You looked up at him, startled by the conviction in his tone, and the softness in his expression made your breath hitch. Slowly, he extended his hand, palm up, waiting for you to take it.

There was no pressure, no urgency— just quiet reassurance.

"Can I see them?" he asked gently.

Your throat tightened as shame twisted in your chest, but something in the way he asked-his voice so full of respect and care-made you nod. You hesitated, but eventually, you extended your arm, letting him take it.

König's hands were warm and impossibly gentle as they cradled your arm, his thumb brushing over the scars with reverence. His touch was so soft, so careful, that it made tears well in your eyes. He studied the lines there, his gaze intense but not in a way that made you feel scrutinized. His fingers traced the edges of your skin, lingering on the softness of your body, the curves that you had often struggled to love, yet he seemed to admire them as if they were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"They're not ugly," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Not to me. Never to me."

Then, slowly, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the faintest scar near your wrist. His lips were soft, lingering, as though he were trying to pour all his love into that one act. When he pulled back, his eyes met yours, and you saw nothing but love and admiration in them.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, his voice low and steady. "And I love every part of you. Every mark, every line, and yes, every curve. Especially those.

You're perfect just the way you are.

Your body is exactly how it's meant to be-full, soft, and beautiful. I love every inch of you, liebling."

His words hung in the air between you, and you couldn't help but feel something shift inside. He wasn't just saying the words; he meant them with every fiber of his being. Slowly, he extended his hand, his palm open, waiting again.

"Can I see the others?" he asked, his voice still gentle, still full of respect.

You hesitated for a moment, but the way he looked at you-with so much patience, so much love-made it impossible to say no. You nodded, and he moved, kneeling on the floor in front of you. His hands rested on your knees, his thumbs brushing soothing circles into your skin as he waited for your permission to continue.

With a deep breath, you let him lift the hem of your shorts, exposing the scars on your thighs. The familiar wave of self-consciousness rose in your chest, but before it could consume you, König leaned in and pressed a kiss to one of the scars.

And then another.

And another.

His lips were impossibly soft, lingering over each mark as though he were worshiping them, worshiping you. His hands stayed on your thighs, steady and warm, grounding you as he moved with painstaking care.

"You're so strong," he whispered between kisses, his voice trembling slightly. "Do you know how much I admire you? How proud I am of you for fighting, for surviving? You've been through so much, liebling, but you're still here. And I love you for that. I love you for everything you are."

Tears streamed down your cheeks, but they weren't just from sadness. They were from the overwhelming love in his voice, the way he touched you as though you were something sacred.

When he finally finished with your thighs, he looked up at you again, his hands still resting on your knees. "May I?" he asked, nodding toward your stomach.

You hesitated, the last bit of your shame clinging to you, but his gaze was so steady, so full of love, that you found yourself nodding. Slowly, he lifted the hem of your shirt, exposing the soft, round curves of your stomach, the faint scars there. His expression didn't change-it remained soft, tender, and full of adoration.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to the marks on your stomach with the same care, the same reverence. Each kiss felt like a promise, like a silent vow that he cherished every part of you, even the parts you struggled to love yourself.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin. "Every single part of you. Your softness, your curves-they're perfect to me."

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were glassy with unshed tears, and before you could say anything, he pulled you into his arms. His embrace was warm and all-encompassing, his strength wrapping around you like a shield against the world.

He shifted on the bed, pulling you with him as he lay back against the pillows.

His arms held you close, his hands running slow, soothing patterns over your back. One of his legs slid over yours, tangling them together as though to anchor you to him completely.

"You're safe," he murmured, his voice soft and steady as he pressed a kiss to your temple. "With me, you're always safe."

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, his scent and warmth wrapping around you like a cocoon. His lips found your hair, pressing gentle kisses there as his hand stroked down your spine, his touch calming and protective.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice full of emotion. "All of you. Your softness, your strength, your beauty. Always."

His leg stayed draped over yours, his body a comforting weight that grounded you, made you feel like you could finally let go of the shame and self-doubt you'd carried for so long.

His hands never stopped moving, never stopped offering comfort, and his lips found your forehead, your cheeks, your hair, again and again, as though he couldn't stop kissing you.

In his arms, with his body wrapped around yours so completely, you felt something you hadn't in a long time: peace. And as he whispered words of love and devotion, you began to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could learn to love yourself the way he loved you— with all the tenderness, reverence, and adoration he had for every curve, every mark, every part of you.

[mivalyn]

🖤 His knot, my pleasure 🖤

18+, mdni!

Cat hybrid! Ghost x fem! reader

Cw: animal/human hybrid sexual content, rough sex, non-con elements, knotting, unprotected sex

Word count: 1,415

The rain hammered against the windowpanes, a frantic rhythm mirroring the storm brewing inside you. Simon "Ghost" Riley - your gorgeous, lethal, half-cat hybrid - was a coiled spring of barely contained lust on your sofa. His eyes, those predatory feline slits, are locked on you, burning with a raw need that makes your pussy slick. The air crackles with it, thick with lust and the unspoken promise of something wild. His cat ears twitch, a nervous tremor that only intensifies the primal energy radiating off him. His tail thumps a relentless rhythm against the bed, a frantic countdown to release. This hybrid kitten is fucking insane, the intensity of his rut a volatile mix of terror and scorching, delicious desire. You taste it, feel it deep in your gut.

You reach out, your fingers tracing the velvety softness of his ear. A low growl rumbles in his chest, a vibration that shoots straight to your clit, making your pussy ache. He shivers, a barely contained whimper escaping his lips. You’ve hit a nerve, a raw, exposed nerve of pure, desperate need. And the power you hold, the control you have over this beautiful, tormented creature...it's a heady rush.

He’s panting, his chest heaving, his pupils blown wide, reflecting your own lust back at you. His sleek body is taut, coiled tight, every muscle screaming for release. Sweat beads on his skin, catching the dim light. You trail your fingers down his back, lingering on the thick fur of his tail. You feel the heat of his body, the raw, palpable proof of his arousal. His scent—sharp, musky, utterly intoxicating—fills your nostrils.

You run your fingers along the length of his tail, teasing, tormenting. A guttural moan rips from his throat, a sound both primal and agonizing. His hips buck involuntarily, his body arching towards your touch, his cock straining against the fabric of his pants.

“Fuck,” he whispers, his voice rough with want, “I need you.”

The words are a raw, desperate plea, and you know you have the power to break him or save him. You choose both. You grip his tail, squeezing firmly. He gasps, a sharp intake of breath, half pain, half pleasure. His eyes snap open, wild and desperate, pleading for you to take control.

You lean in, your breath hot against his ear. "I'm here for you, you gorgeous kitten," you murmur, your voice low and husky.

You kiss him, a deep, hungry kiss that demands a response. His lips part, his tongue meeting yours in a frantic dance. His hands are all over you, kneading your ass, tugging at your hair. His claws, surprisingly gentle, rake lightly across your back. The heat between you is almost unbearable. You feel the rough brush of his tail against your leg, a constant reminder of his arousal.

You pull back slightly, your eyes meeting his. You reach down, your fingers finding the button of his jeans. You undo them, the fabric falling away to reveal a throbbing, slick cock. He gasps, a sound caught between a whimper and a moan. You cup him, feeling the pulsing heat of his arousal, the slick pre-cum coating his length. His cock is thick and hard, throbbing with need.

“Oh god,” he groans, his voice ragged. You begin to stroke him, slow, deliberate strokes that build the tension, your fingers teasing the sensitive head. His hips buck against your hand, his moans growing louder, more desperate. You feel the power you hold, the exquisite control you have over this beautiful, savage kitten.

You pull him towards the bed, dragging him down with you, your mouths never parting. His kiss becomes more frantic. He’s tearing at your clothes, his hands desperate. He tastes of sweat and arousal, the scent intoxicating. His tail wraps around your leg, his cock pressing against your wet pussy.

You’re both naked now, a tangle of limbs and sweat-slicked skin on the bed. He’s a whirlwind of need, his hands exploring your body with raw, animalistic hunger. His teeth graze your neck, leaving a trail of hot, tingling sensations. His claws dig into your hips, urging you closer, guiding you onto him. You straddle him, the throbbing hardness of his cock pressing against your entrance, your pussy slick and aching.

You slowly lower yourself, the first few inches a torturous tease, the friction setting your pussy on fire. He roars, a primal sound, as you sink down fully. The sensation is exquisite agony, a perfect blend of pain and pleasure. You begin to ride him, your pussy milking his cock with every thrust, his hands roaming your body, his claws scratching your skin.

His moans turn into desperate cries as he nears his peak. You whisper in his ear, “Let go, kitten. Let go.”

He does. He explodes inside you, his body convulsing. You come with him, a simultaneous eruption of pleasure that leaves you trembling, breathless, utterly spent. Your pussy is throbbing, aching, completely satisfied.

But even in the aftermath, his rut isn't sated. He rolls you over, claiming you. He fills you again, this time with a steady, relentless rhythm that speaks of insatiable hunger. His claws rake down your back, leaving a trail of burning scratches. His teeth nip at your neck, a possessive mark of ownership you crave. He whispers, his voice thick with desire, He whispers, his voice thick with need, "My knot... can I...?"

The question hangs in the air, heavy with unspoken promise and the raw, primal energy that still vibrates between you. The idea sends a fresh wave of heat flooding through you, a thrilling anticipation coiling in your belly. Your pussy clenches, a reflex response to the unspoken suggestion. "Yes," you moan, the word barely audible above the frantic rhythm of your pounding heart. "Give it to me, kitten."

His eyes blaze with a possessive fire, a fierce hunger that mirrors your own. He angles himself, his cock swelling even further inside you, filling you to the brim. With a final, powerful thrust, he seals you together, his knot locking in place. The sensation is intense, a strange mix of pressure and fullness that sends jolts of pure pleasure shooting through you. His breath hitches, a guttural groan escaping his lips as he arches his back, his muscles bunching and flexing with the effort of holding back.

His teeth sink into your neck, a sharp bite that leaves a burning brand of possession. It's not painful, not really; it’s a searing brand of pleasure, a mark of his claim. His knot pulses with his climax, sending wave after wave of pleasure crashing over you as you remain joined, your hearts beating in perfect sync. You can feel the muscles in his cock contracting around you, a powerful, rhythmic pulsing that keeps you on the edge of another orgasm. His tail lashes wildly against the bed, a frantic counterpoint to the steady rhythm of his hips.

The reality of what you're doing—the primal connection, the raw, unbridled lust—only serves to heighten the moment, making it feel more raw and intimate than anything you've ever experienced. The room is filled with the scent of sex and the sound of your mingled breaths as you ride the crest of your passion together, forever changed by the depth of your bond and the fiery embrace of his rut. The pressure from his knot intensifies, building to another crescendo. Your muscles clench, tightening around him, your own orgasm building, a tidal wave threatening to break over you. His whiskers brush against your cheek as he nuzzles into your neck, his breath ragged and hot against your skin. You arch your back, meeting each of his thrusts, your moans muffled against his shoulder as he claims your mouth once more. His knot swells, filling you completely.

And then, with a final, guttural roar, he empties himself into you, his knot swelling to its fullest, the pressure intense and exquisitely painful. You're joined, inextricably linked, your bodies trembling with the aftermath of your passion. You lie there, tangled in the throes of your newfound intimacy, his knot a powerful reminder of the raw, untamed connection you share. The world outside ceases to exist. There's only you, and him, bound by the fiery chains of his rut and the unshakeable connection that has formed between you, a bond forged in the crucible of raw, untamed desire.

[mivalyn]

~How the guys from Task Force 141 would react if they found you in the middle of a depressive episode~

• The moment Soap sees something’s wrong—your quietness, the mess, the dim room—he’s instantly worried but stays calm. He’ll approach gently, kneeling beside you. “Hey, love… what’s goin’ on? Talk to me.”

• If your place is messy or you’re not taking care of yourself, he won’t care. “None of that, bonnie. You’ve got nothin’ to apologize for.” His focus is you, not the state of things.

• He’ll bring you something easy—a glass of water, a piece of toast—and coax you softly. “Just one sip, yeah? For me?” When you manage even the smallest effort, he’ll praise you endlessly. “There we go. That’s my strong one.”

• Soap’s all about physical affection—he’ll hold you close, stroke your hair, rub your back. If you cry, he’ll press soft kisses to your hairline. “Let it out, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

• He’ll make sure you know this doesn’t make you weak or a burden. “You’re havin’ a tough time, and that’s alright. You’re still the most amazin’ person I know.”

• Once you’re settled, he’ll lighten the mood with silly stories or show you memes on his phone. “Look at this—Ghost sent it. Didn’t know he had a sense of humor, eh?”

• Soap will stay as long as you need, quietly looking after you—cleaning, cooking, or just sitting close. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, love. You’re not alone in this.”

• He’ll check in every day, celebrate even the smallest steps forward, and remind you constantly how much you mean to him. “One day at a time, bonnie. We’ve got this together.”

• Ghost picks up on the subtle changes immediately—the quietness, the way your space feels heavier than usual, how withdrawn you’ve become. He doesn’t call attention to it, but his concern is instant.

• He doesn’t barge in or overwhelm you. Instead, he sits down nearby, giving you space while making his presence known. His voice is calm and steady when he speaks. “You don’t have to say anything, love. I’m here. That’s all that matters right now.”

• Ghost makes sure you’re looked after without making you feel pressured. He’ll grab water, a piece of toast, or something easy to eat and set it beside you. “Just a little. You don’t have to finish it, but try, yeah? For me.”

• If you let him, Ghost will gently pull you into his arms, wrapping you in his solid warmth. His gloved hand strokes your back or hair in slow, soothing motions as he whispers, “You’re safe. I’ve got you.” If you cry, he holds you tighter, letting you let it all out without judgment.

• His words are soft but firm, cutting through the haze of doubt. “You’re not a burden. Not to me, not to anyone. I’ll remind you as many times as you need until you believe it.”

• Ghost is a man of action. He’ll quietly tidy up, fold blankets, or handle anything that feels overwhelming in your space. “This’ll help clear your head. Don’t worry about it—I’ve got it.”

• He knows this isn’t something that can be fixed overnight. He never rushes you or makes you feel like you’re failing. “One small step at a time, love. That’s all we need. No pressure.”

• Ghost stays with you as long as you need, sitting quietly if you want space or staying close if you need him near. He’s calm, grounding, and unwavering. “Whatever you’re fighting in your head, you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here, and I’m not leaving.”

• Even after the initial moment, Ghost checks in regularly, making sure you’re cared for. Whether it’s a quiet walk, a meal, or just sitting in silence together, he’s there. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

• Price would immediately notice something’s off—the lack of energy, the silence, the heaviness in the air. But he wouldn’t rush to confront it. Instead, he’d quietly approach, his tone steady and calm, “You alright, love? Talk to me when you’re ready.”

• He’d let you have space but stay close enough to let you know he’s there. He’s not one for forced affection, but he’d sit beside you, his presence solid and comforting. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, love. Just here when you’re ready.”

• Price would take charge of the basics. If you haven’t eaten or drunk anything, he’d bring you something simple—a warm drink, a snack—and place it within reach, but never force you. “When you’re ready, just a sip. You need to stay strong, even if it’s hard.”

• If you allow it, Price would pull you into his arms, wrapping you securely. His hand would gently rub your back or your arm, providing steady comfort. “I’ve got you. No need to hold it in. Let me take some of the weight off your shoulders.”

• Price doesn’t sugarcoat things, but he has a way of speaking that’s firm yet kind. “This isn’t easy, I know. But you’re strong. You’ve been through worse, and you’ll get through this. I’m with you every step of the way.”

• Price knows not to push too hard, so if you’re ready for a change of pace, he’d try to distract you with light conversation or simple activities, like reading together or watching a movie. “I’m here to listen or just be quiet. Whatever you need.”

• He wouldn’t expect you to snap out of it. Instead, he’d offer his constant support, checking in with you regularly, offering patience when you need it, and never making you feel like you’re a burden. “It’s okay to not be okay. We’ll take this slow, no pressure.”

• Above all, Price’s loyalty would shine through. No matter how tough things get, he’s there, showing you that you don’t have to go through it alone. “You don’t have to fight this on your own, love. We’ll face it together, like we always do.”

• Gaz immediately picks up on your change in mood. He’s quick to approach, but never rushes you. “Hey, you okay? Talk to me, yeah?” His voice is gentle but filled with worry.

• He’ll give you space but stay close, offering his presence without overwhelming you. “I’m right here whenever you need me, no pressure.”

• If you’re not eating or drinking, Gaz will bring you something light, like tea or a snack, and place it in front of you. “You don’t have to eat it all, just a bit. I’ll be here.”

• Gaz will offer comforting touches, a hand on your back, or a light hug if you allow it. “You’re safe with me, yeah? I’ve got you.”

• He’s not one for overly serious words, but he’ll keep reminding you that you’re not alone. “You’re amazing, you know that? We’ll get through this. You’ve got this.”

• Gaz knows how to lighten the mood without pushing too hard. He’ll tell you funny stories, try to make you smile, or distract you with a game or something light-hearted. “How about a movie? No pressure, just some chill time.”

• Gaz doesn’t leave your side. He’s always checking in, quietly making sure you feel cared for. “You don’t have to go through this alone. I’m not going anywhere.”

[mivalyn]

⋆ ★ Daddy´s Girl ★ ⋆

18+, mdni!

John Price x fem! reader

Cw: age play, oral sex, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

!Requests are open!

Word count: 1,127

The late afternoon sun bleeds through the gap in the curtains, casting long shadows across the rumpled sheets and highlighting the dust motes dancing in the golden light. Price watches you with those piercing blue eyes that always seem to see right through you, to the core of your desires. At 39, his rugged handsomeness is a potent mix of danger and allure, a stark contrast to your own Y/A years and the carefully constructed facade of independence you maintain outside this room. The chemistry between you is a volatile cocktail, a potent blend of dominance and submission that leaves you breathless, trembling on the precipice of something primal and untamed.

The lazy Sunday morning has long since bled into a feverish afternoon. Your white cotton sundress lies discarded on the floor, a testament to the escalating passion, a casualty of his relentless pursuit. He's in boxers, the dark fabric a stark contrast to the pale skin of his thighs, hinting at the raw power coiled beneath the surface. The air hangs heavy with the unspoken promises, a tangible tension that vibrates between your bodies. He leans closer, that predatory glint in his eyes deepening, a hunter savoring the chase. "Come here, little one," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through your very core.

You obey instinctively, your own desires overriding any lingering vestiges of caution. You crawl towards him, your body humming with a primal hunger that has consumed you since the moment you first met his gaze. His kiss is not gentle; it’s a demanding conquest, his tongue a forceful invader, exploring every hidden crevice of your mouth, leaving you breathless and disoriented. The taste of him -coffee, sweat, and something uniquely masculine and utterly intoxicating - lingers on your tongue, a potent reminder of his complete and utter dominance. He trails kisses down your neck, each touch leaving a fiery trail, his teeth playfully nipping, drawing ragged moans from your lips. The line between pleasure and pain blurs, the exquisite agony fueling your desire.

His hands, calloused and strong, cup your breasts, his touch both tender and bruising. He takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, the pressure sending jolts of pure, unadulterated pleasure through you, arching your back uncontrollably. He alternates between gentle sucking and sharp nips, teasing your senses to the brink of unbearable ecstasy. He moves lower, his breath hot on your skin, his lips tracing a fiery path down your abdomen, leaving you trembling in anticipation.

He reaches your mound, his gaze unwavering as he parts your legs, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of your lips. "Such a beautiful pussy, little one," he breathes, the words a compliment and a claim of ownership, sending a shiver down your spine. He wastes no time, plunging in with a ferocity that leaves you gasping for air, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity.

His tongue is a masterful instrument, a skilled conductor leading your body to the precipice of orgasm. He licks and sucks your clitoris with a rhythm that resonates deep within you, a rhythm that builds slowly, deliberately, then explodes into an untamed frenzy, driving you to the very edge of sanity. You arch your back, your fingers digging into his hair as you grind against his face, desperate for release, your moans turning into raw cries of pleasure. His fingers join his mouth, probing, teasing, then penetrating, two, then three, a rhythmic invasion that complements the exquisite torment of his tongue. The world shrinks, focusing on the pulsing intensity, the pressure building until you explode, your name a desperate plea as a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure washes over you, shattering your senses, leaving you weak and trembling.

He looks up, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. "Good girl," he murmurs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, the taste of you lingering on his skin. He kisses you again, a deep, possessive kiss, letting you taste the exquisite flavor of your own surrender on his lips. The taste is both sweet and bitter, the culmination of pleasure and submission.

"I want you inside me, Daddy," you whisper, the words a desperate confession, a surrender to his overwhelming power. He needs no further encouragement. He positions himself at your entrance, the head of his cock brushing against your already slick flesh, the anticipation driving you to the edge of madness. He slides inside, easily, smoothly, filling you completely.

He begins to move slowly, deeply, his eyes never leaving yours. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, wanting him deeper, needing him to fill every inch of you. The pace increases, the rhythm building, the pleasure escalating to a point of unbearable intensity. His grunts mingle with your cries as you move together in a primal dance of lust and surrender, a dance as old as time itself. The air fills with the sounds of your combined pleasure, a symphony of moans, gasps and grunts.

"Come for me, little one," he growls, his voice rough with desire. The command is both exhilarating and terrifying, a perfect encapsulation of the power dynamic that defines your relationship. You meet his gaze, your body arching, your muscles clenching as the orgasm rushes over you again, this time fueled by his presence inside you, his power over you. Your pussy clamps around him, holding him captive as the waves of pleasure crash over you. He follows soon after, groaning as his own release floods you, a hot torrent of pleasure that leaves you spent and trembling.

You lie entwined, your bodies slick with sweat and passion, breathless and spent. He pulls out slowly, then rolls over, pulling you into his arms. His cock, still heavy and warm, rests against your inner thigh. The warmth is comforting, a tangible reminder of your shared intimacy, a constant reminder of his power and your willing submission. You don't want to move, don't want to let go. The lingering scent of sex, sweat, and his unique musk fills the air, a potent reminder of the raw, untamed passion you have just shared.

"I love you, Daddy," you whisper, the words escaping from deep within your soul, a testament to the profound connection you share, a connection born of lust, dominance, and a deep, undeniable surrender. He kisses the top of your head, his breath warm against your hair.

"I love you too, little one," he replies, his voice soft yet powerful, his words a promise whispered in the quiet aftermath of your storm. And in that moment, surrounded by the remnants of your passion, you know this is more than just sex; it's a complete surrender, a profound devotion to a man who owns you, body and soul.

[mivalyn]

😈 The beast within 😈

18+, mdni!

Wanderer! Sylus x fem! reader

Cw: non-consensual sex, size difference in sexual activity, intense pain, unrealistic body proportions/monster features, dubious consent, power dynamics

!Requests are open!

Word count: 1,846

The key scrapes against the lock, a pathetically mundane sound utterly dwarfed by the raw, primal fucking energy thrumming in the air – a low, guttural vibration that resonates deep within your cunt, a promise of the brutal, ecstatic, mind-blowing agony about to unfold. It's a promise of pain so exquisite it'll leave you begging for more, a promise of pleasure so intense it'll shatter your sanity. The door creaks open, revealing him – Sylus. Your Sylus. But this… this isn't just some cuddly-wuddly Sylus. This is something ancient, something fucking powerful, something utterly, terrifyingly alien, and overwhelmingly, sickeningly arousing.

He's sprawled across the sofa, a breathtaking monstrosity bathed in the harsh, judgmental glare of the setting sun. Massive, crimson wings, like silk stained with the blood of a thousand ravaged, screaming innocents, spill over the armrests, each feather a razor-sharp glint of crimson fucking fire. Two obsidian horns, wickedly curved and polished to a lethal, seductive sheen, jut from his head, casting long, predatory shadows across his face – shadows that seem to writhe and pulse with a life of their own. His tail, thick and corded with muscle the size of your goddamn thighs, thrashes against the plush cushions, the dark, pointed tip a constant, insistent reminder of the raw, brutal power coiled within him – a power he's about to unleash on your quivering flesh. His skin, usually a dull olive, now pulses with an unnatural inner light, a luminescent sheen that hints at the terrifying, earth-shattering power simmering beneath the surface – a power that's going to rip you apart and put you back together again, better, broken, and utterly his. His features, normally sharp and ruggedly handsome, are softened, yet possess a chilling, almost ethereal beauty; less the man you know, and more a creature of nightmare and exquisite, agonizing, breathtaking desire. The muscles in his arms and legs ripple beneath his skin, a horrifying, beautiful display of raw strength that both terrifies and enthralls you, leaving you weak-kneed and desperate for the pain he's about to inflict. A knot of primal, terrified fear twists in your gut, inextricably bound with an overwhelming, insatiable, depraved lust that leaves you panting and wanting more.

He rises slowly, deliberately, the movement of a predator assessing its prey. But the predatory glint in his eyes has softened, replaced by something else entirely… a yearning so intense it’s almost palpable, a hunger that mirrors your own – a hunger for your destruction, your submission, your complete and utter annihilation. He moves towards you, each step echoing in the sudden, suffocating silence, the air thick with the raw, unspoken promise of brutal, ecstatic, soul-crushing release. The scent of him fills the room – ozone, sweat, something musky and primal, uniquely him, a scent that both repels and utterly captivates you, a scent that screams of power and raw, untamed sexuality.

"Hello, love," his voice is a low growl, a vibration that resonates deep within your core, igniting fires in places you didn't know existed – places you never even knew could exist.

You don't scream. You can't. Your breath hitches, stolen by the sheer, terrifying, breathtaking beauty of him. He is breathtaking. Dangerous. A fucking god amongst men. And then you see it.

The monstrous, alien bulge pressed against the nonexistent fabric where his trousers should have been. His cock. It is obscene, impossibly thick and long, a throbbing, vibrant purple monstrosity that strains against the confines of his abdomen, a pulsating, alien phallus that dwarfs anything you've ever witnessed. The head is swollen and glistening, slick with pre-cum, a promise of pain and pleasure so intense it makes your knees weak, your insides melt, and your mind scream for release. You’ve explored his body before, mapped every curve and crevice, discovered hidden landscapes of pleasure. But this… this is beyond anything you could have imagined. This is primal. Raw. Alien. And fucking incredibly, obscenely, terrifyingly arousing.

Your pussy clenches, spasming involuntarily. Heat radiates through your core, leaving you breathless, aching, weak, a quivering mess of need and terror. Yet you remain rooted to the spot, mesmerized, your will completely broken by the sheer, overwhelming power of him. The sight of him – impossibly huge, impossibly beautiful, impossibly alien – ignites a fire within you, a lust so raw it obliterates any remaining sense of reason or fear.

"Sylus…" you whisper, your voice a trembling breath, a pathetic whimper of submission.

He reaches out, his fingers brushing your cheek, sending a jolt of pure, unadulterated electricity through you, leaving you tingling and desperate for his touch. "I… I wanted you to see," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion, raw and vulnerable, a stark contrast to his otherworldly power. A blush, a stark contrast to his otherworldly features, colors his high cheekbones, a fleeting moment of human vulnerability. "This… this is who I truly am. I… I haven’t known how to show you before."

The air crackles with unspoken lust, thick with ozone and that musky, primal scent, a suffocating blend of power and desire that leaves you breathless and wanting more. You reach out, your fingers tracing the sharp, smooth edge of one of his horns, the heat of his skin searing through your fingertips. You run your hand down his spine, feeling the taut corded muscles beneath, the roughness of his hair sending shivers down your back. Finally, your fingers brush against his impossibly large cock. A gasp, raw and desperate, escapes your lips – a gasp of pure, unadulterated need.

"Show me," you breathe, your voice barely a whisper, a plea for more pain, more pleasure, more of him. "Show me everything."

He leans down, his lips brushing your ear, his breath hot and wet against your skin, a fetid whisper of impending doom and exquisite pleasure. "My love," he growls, his voice low and dangerous, a rumbling promise of pain and ecstasy, "you have no idea what I want to show you…" His hand moves down your body, cupping your breast, his fingers tightening, his touch both tender and brutally possessive, a terrifying blend of gentleness and violence. The heat of his skin burns through your clothing, igniting a fire within you that spreads like wildfire through your veins. His fingers find your clit through your panties, a rough, demanding stroke that sends a jolt of pure, unadulterated pleasure shooting to your brain, a white-hot explosion of sensation that leaves you gasping for air. A moan escapes you, a sound of pure, desperate need, a primal scream of submission.

He tears your panties away with a sharp rip, the sound echoing the tearing of your inhibitions, his gaze intense, his eyes burning into yours as he takes in the sight of your slick, glistening cunt, a gaping maw of desire ready to receive him. His lips find yours, a hungry, demanding kiss that leaves you breathless, his tongue rough and invasive, exploring every inch of your mouth before trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of fire and wetness in its wake. His lips linger on the sensitive skin of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin, a prelude to the storm that's about to break. His fingers find their way between your legs, his touch expert and brutal, teasing and tormenting your clit until you are writhing, a writhing mass of desperate need, your body convulsing with the pleasure and pain of his touch. He pushes two fingers inside, then three, stretching you, his touch growing more insistent, more brutal, more demanding, pushing you to the very edge of your endurance, the precipice of oblivion. You arch your back, your hips bucking against his hand, desperate for release, for the oblivion that only he can provide. He knows exactly what he’s doing, pushing you to the very edge of sanity, to the precipice of complete, utter, blissful surrender.

He doesn't waste time. His massive, alien cock, a throbbing purple monster, looms between your legs, a monstrous, pulsating testament to his power, his dominance. The sheer size of it is both terrifying and exhilarating, a promise of pain and pleasure so intense it steals your breath, leaves you gasping for air, begging for release. He positions himself, his weight pressing down on you, the heat of his body searing against yours, a suffocating weight that both terrifies and excites you. The head of his cock presses against your entrance, and you gasp, the anticipation nearly unbearable, the edge of pain a tantalizing promise.

He pushes, slowly at first, testing your limits, stretching you to your breaking point. The pain is excruciating, a fiery burn that threatens to consume you, to obliterate you, but the pleasure is even more intense, a wave of exquisite agony that washes over you, a tsunami of sensation that leaves you breathless and wanting more. He moves deeper, stretching you, filling you completely, until you're nothing but a vessel for his raw, untamed power. You dig your nails into his back, your body arching, your legs wrapping around his waist, a desperate, primal embrace.

He moves faster, his thrusts deeper and more powerful, the rhythm driving you insane, a relentless pounding that pushes you to the edge of sanity. You scream, your voice raw and hoarse, a mixture of pain and unadulterated ecstasy, a primal cry of surrender and triumph. His tail thrashes against the bed, a silent counterpoint to the rhythm of his thrusts, a pulsating testament to his power. His crimson wings flutter slightly as his body moves, casting shifting shadows on the walls, adding a surreal, nightmarish quality to the already intense experience. He grunts, his own orgasm building, his body shuddering violently against yours, a violent tremor that shakes you to your core. You climax again and again, wave after wave of intense pleasure and unbearable pain, your body convulsing around him, until finally, he empties himself inside you, collapsing onto you, his weight heavy but satisfying, a crushing weight that leaves you gasping for breath.

You lie there, spent and breathless, the only sounds the pounding of your hearts and your ragged breathing. This wasn’t lovemaking; it was a violation, a conquest, a brutal, primal merging of two vastly different beings. And it was fucking incredible. His large cock still fills you, his weight heavy upon you, a warm, pulsing weight that leaves you trembling with aftershocks of pleasure and pain. He’s asleep already, lost in the aftermath of his own savage release, and you… you aren’t even sure you want to move. The throbbing in your cunt and in your head, the phantom ache of his muscles, his size, the sheer, overwhelming power of him… it’s all so intoxicating, so utterly, completely consuming. The lingering heat between your legs… the promise of more… the terrifying, exhilarating promise of more… it's a promise you're already eagerly anticipating.

*****

As soon as I saw the new video yesterday on the Love and Deepspace YouTube channel with Sylus, I knew I had to write this~

[mivalyn]

🎇 My cunt, his playgrund 🎇

18+, mdni!

Sylus x fem!reader

Cw: oral sex, fingering, sexual obsession

!Requests are open!

Word count: 662

Sylus’s love for eating your cunt isn't just passion; it's a consuming obsession, a primal need that borders on the religious. It’s not simply the taste, the slick heat, the intoxicating scent of your arousal – though he certainly savors each element with a ferocity that leaves you breathless. It's a deeper connection, a visceral understanding of your body, a language spoken only through the frantic dance of his tongue against your most sensitive flesh. He knows your pussy intimately; he knows the exact pressure to apply, the precise rhythm that sends shivers down your spine, the exact spot on your clit that pushes you over the precipice of oblivion.

He begins slowly, a teasing exploration, his tongue tracing the delicate contours of your labia, mapping every curve, every fold of your exquisite, throbbing pussy. His breath ghosts across your skin, sending a wave of heat that ripples through your core. Then the pace picks up, a relentless rhythm that builds and builds, his tongue a hungry, expert instrument working your pussy with a feverish intensity that leaves you breathless. He alternates between gentle licks that tease and firm, deliberate strokes that leave your cunt aching for more. He teases your clit to the very edge of orgasm, only to pull back, leaving you panting and begging for release. The anticipation is a delicious agony, pushing your pleasure to almost unbearable heights.

His tongue delves deeper into your folds, exploring the warmth and slickness within, dancing around your sensitive G-spot with an almost brutal tenderness. His movements are precise, deliberate, a carefully choreographed routine designed to unravel your very being. His breath hitches, his own arousal mirroring yours, the heat of his skin intensifying against yours. He never holds back, never hesitates to explore every inch, every crevice, every sensitive nerve ending of your cunt. The taste of your juices, mingled with his own pre-cum, only fuels his fervor, his tongue working with an almost frantic energy to push you towards the brink of release.

Occasionally, his fingers join the fray, adding another layer of intensity to the already overwhelming sensations. His touch is surprisingly tender yet firm; his fingers expertly working your clit while his tongue continues its relentless assault on your pussy. He might tease your perineum, arousing a different kind of pleasure, before moving back to your clit, creating a symphony of sensations that leaves you weak with pleasure. He’ll often use one finger, tracing circles around your clit, gradually increasing the pressure, pushing you towards the precipice of climax while simultaneously toying with your sensitive G-spot with his tongue, sending waves of pleasure that radiate through your entire body.

Other times, two or even three fingers might join the dance, adding another dimension of intense pleasure to the already overwhelming sensations. The combination of his tongue and fingers is an exquisite torture, a calculated torment designed to push you beyond your limits, leaving you breathless, spent, and utterly consumed by his obsession. He pushes you to the edge of orgasm repeatedly, savoring your moans, your cries, your desperate pleas for release, before pulling back, leaving you hanging, aching, needing more. He knows how much you crave this relentless pleasure, this overwhelming, consuming attention.

It’s a messy, passionate affair, a testament to a love that is both consuming and entirely depraved. His cum mingles with your juices, a thick, glistening mess, a testament to the intensity of his devotion. The taste of your cunt, the feel of his fingers and tongue, the sheer overwhelming intensity of his devotion – it leaves you panting, trembling, begging for more, even as your body aches with the aftershocks of orgasm. You're a mess, a shuddering, panting mess, your pussy slick and swollen, your clit still throbbing. And you wouldn’t have it any other way. This is your ritual, your depravity, your shared obsession – a symphony of pleasure and pain orchestrated by the man who knows your cunt better than you do.

[mivalyn]

👄 No safe words 👄

18+, mdni!

König x Ghost x fem! reader 18+

Cw: non-consensual sex, BDSM, degradation, forced oral sex, anal sex, bondage, captivity, power imbalance, unprotected sex, forced orgasm denial

!Requests are open!

Word count: 1,514

Your eyes snap open to a room suffocating under the weight of expensive incense and the cloying, metallic tang of old cum. Heavy, blood-red velvet drapes, like morbid shrouds, obscure the dim light. Silk sheets, slick with the residue of their previous depravity – a glistening testament to their perversions – cling to your skin, a second, unwelcome layer. Your wrists, raw and chafed, are bound tight to the ornate, tarnished headboard of the four-poster bed – a gilded cage for your soon-to-be-broken body. Your legs are splayed wide, your ankles similarly secured, offering you up as a sacrifice on this lavish altar of pain and pleasure. A primal, gut-wrenching fear wars with a sickening, almost perverse thrill. This is it. 24/7 servitude to König and Ghost.

König, an Austrian predator sculpted from arrogance and tailored suits, stands at the foot of the bed, his piercing blue eyes glittering with cruel amusement. One hand idly caresses his thick, uncut cock, the glistening head a testament to his anticipation; the veins bulging obscenely beneath the taut skin. The other hand trails lazily along your inner thigh, fingers pressing into your sensitive skin, deliberately teasing, provoking a shudder through your already taut body. His Austrian accent, a low, guttural growl, rasps in your ear, promising tortures that will make your very soul scream. Beside him, Ghost – a blond Adonis whose eyes hold the murky, stagnant horror of swamp water – watches with a predatory gleam. His own cock twitches, a single drop of pre-cum clinging to the tip like a morbid jewel; the swollen head throbbing with barely contained lust. The air thrumms with anticipation, the scent thick and heavy, a miasma of lust, impending degradation, and something primal and undeniably animalistic. Your pussy clenches, a desperate, involuntary plea for the inevitable violation – a desperate attempt to prepare for the onslaught.

They approach, their combined dominance suffocating. Their hands are everywhere, rough, demanding, violating. They cup your breasts, their fingers digging into your flesh, squeezing your nipples until they are achingly hard, the sensitive skin turning a bruised purple. Then, lower, their fingers trace the curve of your thighs, exploring the slick, heated flesh between your legs, their touch lingering on your clit, a prelude to the torture to come. A strangled gasp escapes your lips as their fingers find your clit, their touch alternating between a tender caress that promises a release you'll be cruelly denied, and a brutal pinch that instantly steals any hope of respite. A silent, feral understanding passes between them, a predatory dance of mutual dominance, and you know – with a chilling certainty – this is merely the overture to your descent into their depraved hellscape.

König leans in, his hot breath ghosting across your ear, whispering your safe words – a twisted reassurance, a mocking promise of control he will soon shatter. "Remember, mein Schatz," he purrs, the words slithering out like venomous snakes, "you only cum when we say so." The words brand themselves into your soul, searing a mark of utter ownership. You are theirs. Body and mind.

A cold, metallic clamp clamps onto your clit, the sharp, agonizing pinch making you buck involuntarily against the restraints. You gasp, a raw sound of pain and desperate need tearing from your throat. "Breathe," Ghost murmurs, his voice a silken caress as he presses a vibrator against your already overstimulated clit, the pleasure a cruel counterpoint to the searing pain of the clamp; the throbbing a prelude to the agony and the ecstasy to come. The vibrations build in intensity, pushing you toward a precipice of unimaginable pleasure and pain.

Slick, cool lube coats your crack, the coldness a stark contrast to the burning heat that’s spreading through your body. The anticipation is a physical ache, a desperate hunger for the pain you know is coming. König's cock, thick and brutally hard, presses against your asshole, stretching you to your absolute limit. You feel the skin tear, the raw pain a shock that quickly morphs into a raw, burning pleasure as he pushes inside you, filling you completely. His thrusts are deep and deliberate, each one an invasion, a violation. Meanwhile, Ghost's cock hovers over your face. "Open," he commands, his voice sharp, leaving no room for refusal. You obey, the salty taste of his pre-cum coating your tongue before the full, brutal length of him fills your mouth. You gag, your throat burning, but his grip on your hair is firm, unrelenting, and you're forced to take him deep, his rhythm pounding against the back of your throat. You feel their power, the rhythmic pounding of König inside your ass, the relentless, brutal thrusting of Ghost in your mouth; a total surrender of your body, your will, your very self. You taste his cum, metallic and bitter, as it explodes deep in your throat, and you are forced to swallow, the taste lingering like a testament to their dominance.

Your moans grow louder, desperate, animalistic, a mixture of pain and pleasure that spills from your lips. The vibrator pulses against your clit, bringing you to the edge, only to cruelly pull you back. They savor your struggle, your whimpers and gasps, their eyes alight with a predatory glee. König’s thrusts become more forceful, each one a hammer blow against your sanity, the friction against your intestinal walls unbearable and exhilarating. Ghost’s grip on your hair tightens, his cock hitting the back of your throat with each savage push, the base of it swelling inside you, filling you with a sense of suffocating power. The clamp bites harder, the vibrator throbbing relentlessly. Then, just as you are about to shatter, they slow, pulling you back from the brink of release, leaving you trembling on the precipice of oblivion, your body screaming for the release they are so cruelly denying.

“Remember,” König growls, his voice thick with lust, "you will not come unless we allow it.�� His cock pulses deep inside you, filling you, leaving you weak and trembling. You nod, tears streaming down your face, a mixture of frustration, exquisite agony, and a perverse, undeniable arousal. The anticipation is unbearable, a delicious torture that leaves you aching, begging for more, even as you know it will only bring more pain. They resume, their movements perfectly synchronized, pushing you to the edge again and again, only to cruelly deny you release. The rhythmic pounding of their bodies inside you becomes a blur of sensation - pain, pleasure, humiliation, and a strange, terrifying sense of power.

Each thrust is a violation, a conquest. The clamp pulses against your clit, a relentless reminder of their complete control. The taste of Ghost’s cum still lingers in your mouth, the metallic tang a grim testament to his dominance. You are theirs, completely, utterly, a willing vessel for their depraved desires. Your body is stretched, your senses overwhelmed, your moans a symphony of pain and pleasure, a desperate, guttural plea for something you know they will only reluctantly give.

Then, a final, brutal thrust from König, a jolt of pure electricity that rips through your core, sending a wave of agonizing pleasure and searing pain through your entire body. Simultaneously, Ghost’s grip on your hair tightens, his strokes in your mouth becoming savage, his cock a brutal piston driving itself relentlessly into you. The clamp is released, the sudden freedom sending you hurtling over the edge in a scream that mixes with Ghost’s own guttural moans. The orgasm tears through you, a storm of sensation, a release so intense it leaves you gasping for breath, your body convulsing uncontrollably.

They pull out, leaving you panting, spent, your body a slick mess of sweat and cum. But they aren’t done. Ghost slides into your slick pussy, his cock filling the space, his strokes hard and fast. You are filled, overflowing with their seed, and you beg, your safe words forgotten, for release, for oblivion. Their movements quicken, harder, more brutal, driving you towards another peak. You are their toy, a plaything to be used and abused, broken and remade in their image. Yet, in this moment of utter surrender, of complete and total degradation, you feel utterly alive, more connected to them than you ever thought possible.

König’s final thrust sends a wave of his cum deep into your ass, a hot, thick explosion that fills you completely. The simultaneous eruption of Ghost inside you pushes you over the edge once more, a second orgasm that leaves you limp and spent. Silence descends, broken only by your ragged breaths and the throbbing pulse of your body. You are left trembling, bound and used, a mess of sweat and cum. But this, you know, is just the beginning. Ghost reattaches the clamp, a cruel smile twisting his lips. "Think we're finished?" he whispers, his voice a venomous caress. "This, my little pet, is merely the warm-up." König kisses your brow, his eyes gleaming with a chilling promise. "We have all night, and all of tomorrow, to show you exactly what it means to be ours."

[mivalyn]

♡ Claimed, stuffed and satisfied ♡

18+, mdni!

König x fem!reader

Cw: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, anal fingerin, anal sex, deep throathing, multiple orgasms

!Requests are open!

Word count: 674

Your relationship with König has been a smoldering fire for months, each encounter stoking the flames higher, hotter. He’s the embodiment of raw, primal masculinity - towering over you with a body carved from stone, a predator's gaze that pins you in place, and a voice dripping with unshakable dominance. Every movement he makes oozes power and control, and the way he looks at you - hungry, possessive - sends a shiver down your spine. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and God help you, because every calculated touch, every rumble of his voice, leaves you aching for him.

He doesn't hold back when it comes to satisfying you in every way possible. His breeding kink is what initially drew you to him, and now you can't get enough of feeling his hot, creamy seed pump into your body. His cock, impossibly thick and throbbing with need, never fails to drive you to the edge of sanity. He takes you any way he wants - filling your ass, pussy, and mouth with his thick cock and making you feel like the ultimate cumbag. But it's not just about sex for him - he worships you like a goddess, adoring every inch of your body.

König towers over you like a vengeful god, easily two heads taller than you with a massive cock that seems to never tire. His thick, fleshy cock bring you to climax at least four or five times, leaving your body quivering and begging for more. He thrusts into your dripping wet pussy, he relentlessly pounds away, punctuating each deep thrust with a bite on your neck, throat, collarbones, and nipples. His rough, calloused hands explore every inch of you, leaving behind welts and bruises that you wear like badges of honor. Every touch is searing, primal, as if he’s branding you as his. He devours your delicious pussy and ass afterward with fervent hunger, his tongue and lips exploring every inch of your sensitive skin. With each flick of his tongue, he elicits another moan from your overwhelmed body.

But he doesn't stop there - oh no, he knows how much you love it when he plays with your tight anus, expertly stretching it with his thick fingers before plunging his big, thick cock deep inside. As he thrusts into your ass with merciless force, he reaches down and grips your clit between his calloused fingers, tugging and twisting it until you're writhing in pleasure. With a guttural moan, he empties himself deep inside you, marking you as his own. Your screams of pleasure only fuel his desire, and he shows no mercy as he takes you to the brink again and again.

But his true dominance shows when he takes control and fucks your throat mercilessly. He’s obsessed with the sight, how your lips stretched wide around his girthy cock, tears streaming down your cheeks as you struggle to accommodate his size. He’s patient at first, guiding you, but once you start to relax, he takes control, gripping the back of your head and thrusting into your mouth with the same ferocity he shows your pussy. And when he finally releases his hot load down your throat, you swallow every drop like the good little slut he knows you are, and it drives him wild.

König isn’t just dominant—he’s commanding, primal, and entirely in control. But what takes you by surprise every time is the tenderness he shows after your fiery encounters. As rough as he is in bed, he becomes gentle in the aftermath, lifting your exhausted, trembling body into his arms like you’re the most precious thing in the world. He carries you into the bathroom, where he runs a warm bath and carefully washes you, his large hands surprisingly delicate as they glide over your skin. He kisses every mark he’s left behind, murmuring soft words of affection.

And even though you already know how intense and wild he can be in bed, the way he treats you afterward makes you fall for him all over again - you just can’t get enough.

Reblog to see more content like this! It’s a huge help to creators like me, and I truly appreciate it! ^.^

[mivalyn]

☁ The cold below ☁ (16+)

Requested by: @princeasimdiya12

Koe no katachi / A silent voice fanfiction

Cw: chains, drowning, cloth gag, nearly death experience, death

!Requests are open!

Word count: 1,205

Kazuki Shimada was a storm of resentment and fury. For years, he had done everything in his power to break Ishida Shouya - bullying him, humiliating him, and isolating him from everyone around him. Yet Ishida had endured. Worse, he had grown stronger, thriving in ways Kazuki couldn’t fathom.

While Kazuki stumbled from one failure to another, his life a spiral of dissatisfaction, Ishida rose higher. He had friends, success, happiness - all the things Kazuki believed should have been his. It felt like an insult, a mockery of everything Kazuki had suffered. Envy turned to hate, and hate festered until it consumed him.

He wanted to end it. He had to end it. Ishida didn’t deserve his life.

Kazuki planned his revenge carefully, his mind fixating on one goal: Ishida would drown. He prepared everything: heavy chains, cold steel balls to weigh him down, and a thick cloth to gag him. The ocean would do the rest.

Under the cover of night, Kazuki made his move. Dressed in black, he slipped through Ishida’s open window, his heart pounding with adrenaline. The silence of the house only fueled his determination.

°°°

Ishida Shouya lay fast asleep, wrapped in the comfort of his bed. Barefoot and dressed in a loose shirt and baggy pants, he was the picture of peace - a peace he had fought for, earned after years of struggle.

But that peace didn’t last.

A harsh, foreign pressure forced its way into his mouth, yanking him out of sleep. His eyes snapped open as his jaw was forced wide, a large gag sealing his lips shut. He tried to scream, but the gag muffled him completely, reducing his cries to muted, desperate sounds.

“Mmmffhh! Hhhhffnnn!”

Rough hands pulled his arms behind him, tying his wrists tightly with ropes that bit into his skin. He thrashed, his bare feet kicking against the bed in a frantic attempt to resist, but it was no use.

“NNnngghhhff! HHhnnffmmm!”

Before Ishida could see his attacker clearly, a sharp blow struck the back of his head. Pain exploded through his skull, and the world went dark.

°°°

Kazuki grunted as he hefted Ishida’s unconscious body over his shoulder. The boy’s head hung limp, his bare feet swaying with each step Kazuki took. He moved quickly through the empty streets, his breath fogging in the cold night air.

He stopped briefly at his house, grabbing the heavy chains, the weights, and the cloth he had prepared earlier. The bag was heavier than he remembered, but the weight only pushed him onward. He could almost feel the satisfaction of seeing Ishida sink into the ocean’s depths.

When he reached the docks, the moonlit water stretched out before him, dark and endless. The rhythmic sound of waves lapping against the wood filled the air as Kazuki dropped Ishida onto the cold, damp planks. He stood over the boy for a moment, catching his breath.

It was time.

°°°

The first thing Ishida felt when he woke was the chill of the dock beneath him. The second was the ache in his jaw from the gag still lodged tightly in his mouth, sealing it shut. His eyes fluttered open, and he saw the night sky above him, stars scattered like shards of glass.

The sound of water filled his ears, and panic rose in his chest. He tried to move, but his wrists were bound behind him, and his ankles felt unbearably heavy. The faint metallic clink of chains confirmed it.

“Mmmnnffhh! HHhhnngghhh!” His muffled cries were frantic, but the gag held firm, allowing only muted sounds to escape.

Kazuki stepped into view, his face twisted with fury and something almost like triumph. “You’re awake,” he said coldly, crouching beside Ishida. “Good. I want you to hear this.”

Ishida thrashed, his bare feet scraping against the damp wood as he tried to wriggle free.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Kazuki’s voice cracked as he spoke, a mix of anger and desperation. “You’ve ruined me, Ishida. You didn’t even have to try. Everything I wanted, everything I worked for - you just took it. And now look at you! You’re happy, you’re thriving, and me? I have nothing!”

Ishida’s muffled protests grew louder, but the gag reduced them to meaningless noise.

“Mmmpphh! Hhhnnnffhhh!”

Kazuki ignored him. “This is justice, Ishida. My justice.”

He grabbed the chains and began wrapping them around Ishida’s ankles, attaching the heavy metal balls with deliberate precision. The cold metal bit into Ishida’s skin, and his struggles grew frantic.

“NNHHNNFFHHH! HHNNNGGHHHH!”

When the chains were secure, Kazuki yanked Ishida to his feet. The boy swayed unsteadily, his bare feet pressing against the damp wood. Behind him, the ocean loomed - vast, dark, and waiting.

“Goodbye, Ishida,” Kazuki said simply. Then, with a hard shove, he pushed him into the water.

°°°

The freezing water hit Ishida like a wall. He sank instantly, the heavy weights pulling him downward with terrifying speed.

“Mmmmnnnfff! HHNNGGHHHH!” His muffled screams vibrated through the water, but no one could hear them. The gag sealed his mouth shut, his tongue immobilized, leaving him utterly helpless.

The moonlight fractured into shifting beams as he sank deeper and deeper. The pressure in his chest grew unbearable as his lungs begged for air.

The ocean floor slowly came into view, an alien world of pale sand and swaying seaweed. Tiny fish darted past, their movements quick and indifferent. A crab scuttled across the sand, its claws clicking rhythmically as if mocking Ishida’s struggle.

His bare feet brushed the sand, his body settling as the chains anchored him to the ocean floor. His vision blurred, the world around him dimming. The glow of jellyfish flickered nearby, their translucent forms drifting like ghostly lanterns.

Just as the darkness threatened to consume him entirely, a sudden tug at the chains snapped him back. His body jerked as the weight on his ankles shifted, the chains loosening inexplicably.

His feets slipped free.

°°°

Kazuki stood at the edge of the dock, staring at the rippling water. His chest heaved with exertion, his heart pounding in his ears. Ishida was gone. The boy who had everything was now nothing more than a memory, swallowed by the ocean.

It was over.

Kazuki turned to leave, but something caught his eye - a shadow moving beneath the water.

He froze, his blood turning to ice. The ripples grew larger, and then, with an eruption of water, Ishida broke the surface.

Kazuki stumbled backward, his mouth falling open in disbelief. The chains were gone, the weights missing. Ishida, soaking wet and gagged, clawed his way onto the dock, his eyes blazing with fury.

Kazuki staggered back. “No… no, this isn’t possible!”

Ishida lunged forward, and Kazuki stumbled, his foot catching on a loose plank. He fell hard onto the dock, his head cracking against the wood.

Before he could recover, Ishida was on him, his bound hands shoving Kazuki toward the edge.

“Wait - stop!” Kazuki screamed, clawing at the planks.

But Ishida gave one final shove, and Kazuki plunged into the icy water. The last thing he saw was Ishida standing above him, drenched, furious, and utterly unbroken.

The ocean claimed Kazuki without hesitation.

[mivalyn]

° • . Knot me up, please . • °

18+, mdni!

Alpha Hawks x omega male!reader

Cw: knotting, anal fingering, anal sex

!Requests are open!

Word count: 1,277

The Number Two Hero, Hawks, soared above the city as the last rays of the sun painted the skyline in hues of gold and crimson. It had been an unbearably long and taxing day, one filled with high-stakes missions and political meetings that drained every ounce of his energy. Yet, the thought of coming home to you, his Omega, his mate, was the one thing that kept him going. He longed for the simple comfort of shedding his boots, slipping into the familiarity of his home, and wrapping his wings around you, cocooning you in his love and warmth. The vision of holding you close, listening to your soft breaths as you nestled into him, was what had carried him through the grueling hours.

As he finally touched down on the balcony of your shared apartment, the weight on his shoulders lightened slightly. He opened the sliding glass door, and instantly, your scent flooded his senses. But something was different. The usual soothing sweetness of your pheromones was sharper now, richer, almost intoxicating. It struck him like a bolt of lightning.

Heat.

The realization made his heartbeat quicken, an urgency overtaking the fatigue in his body. He let his bag drop carelessly by the door, his boots abandoned mid-step as he moved toward the bedroom. His wings flared behind him instinctively, his body acting on pure instinct. When he pushed open the door, the sight before him stopped him in his tracks, his golden eyes softening with a mixture of affection and desire.

There you were, curled up in the center of the bed in one of his oversized shirts, clutching it tightly to your chest. Your face was flushed, your eyes glassy and filled with a need so palpable it pulled at every primal instinct within him. The sheets around you were tangled, evidence of restless hours spent trying to manage the unbearable ache coursing through your body. Seeing you like this, vulnerable and yearning, melted away every ounce of stress from his body and replaced it with an overwhelming need to comfort and protect you.

“Hey, baby,” Hawks said, his voice soft as he approached the bed. He lowered himself to sit beside you, his hand brushing tenderly through your hair. The small, needy whimper you let out at his touch sent a shiver down his spine. He hated that he hadn’t been there sooner.

“You should’ve called me,” he murmured, his eyes filled with concern and guilt. “How long have you been like this?”

“Since this morning…” you admitted, your voice trembling and thick with emotion. Tears glistened in your eyes as you clutched his shirt tighter, pressing it to your nose to inhale his scent. “I didn’t want to bother you. I know how busy you are…”

Hawks’ heart ached at your words. He leaned down to press a tender kiss to your forehead, his wings spreading wide before folding around you in a protective embrace. “You could never bother me, baby,” he whispered, pulling you gently into his lap. His strong arms encircled you, his warmth enveloping you completely. “You’re my priority. Always. I would’ve dropped everything the second I knew.”

You sniffled against his chest, your body trembling as the heat surged through you. The ache was unbearable, but his presence, his touch, offered a semblance of relief. Hawks’ hands moved to stroke your back, his fingers firm yet gentle, grounding you with every touch.

“It’s okay now,” he soothed, his voice low and calming. “I’m here, and I’m going to take care of you.”

You nodded weakly, your trust in him absolute. Hawks leaned back slightly, his hands moving to the hem of the shirt you wore. “Let’s get this off first, yeah?” he said softly. His golden eyes searched yours for permission, and when you gave a small nod, he carefully lifted the shirt over your head, revealing your flushed, trembling body. The cool air brushed against your skin, making you shiver, but Hawks was quick to fold his wings around you again, shielding you from the chill.

His hands explored your body with reverence, his touch both soothing and electrifying. When his fingers brushed against your cock, already hard and aching, you let out a shaky breath. He wrapped his hand around you, stroking slowly, his movements precise and unhurried.

“Let me help you,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave as his other hand slid over your backside, his fingers finding your slick entrance. He pressed a finger inside, moving gently, his touch igniting sparks of pleasure that made you whimper and cling to him.

“More - please, Keigo,” you gasped, your voice breaking with desperation. Hawks’ heart clenched at the sound, his need to provide for you overriding everything else.

“Anything for you, baby,” he promised, adding a second finger. He worked you open carefully, his movements deliberate as he searched for that spot inside you that would make your body sing. When his fingers found your prostate, a choked cry escaped your lips, and your body arched against him.

It wasn’t long before the pleasure overwhelmed you. Your release spilled over his fingers, your body shuddering as waves of ecstasy washed over you. Hawks withdrew his fingers gently, bringing them to his lips to clean them with a playful smirk. But his eyes remained soft, filled with nothing but love and adoration as he looked at you.

He stood briefly, shedding his clothes with practiced ease. Each piece revealed more of his lean, muscular body, and your eyes drank in the sight of him. When he returned to the bed, he pulled you back into his lap, his hands steadying your hips.

“Now,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear, “I’m going to make you feel so good.”

He positioned himself at your entrance, his hands firm on your waist as he guided you down onto his cock. The stretch was slow and deliberate, his golden eyes watching your every reaction as he filled you completely. The fullness made you cry out, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he stilled to let you adjust.

When you gave a small nod, he began to move, lifting and lowering you on his cock with a steady rhythm. Each thrust hit deep, the pleasure overwhelming as you clung to him, your moans filling the room.

“K-Keigo - more, please,” you begged, your voice laced with desperation. “I want your knot - I need it.”

Hawks groaned at your words, his lips finding the sensitive spot on your neck as his movements quickened. “You’ll have it,” he growled, his voice rough with need. “You’ll have all of me.”

The sensation of his cock thickening inside you was almost too much, the stretch pushing you to the brink. Your climax hit like a tidal wave, your body tensing as pleasure tore through you. Hawks followed moments later, his knot locking him inside you as he spilled his release deep within you.

He held you close, his wings wrapped protectively around you as you both came down from the high. After a few moments, he carefully cleaned you up, his touch tender and reverent.

Once you were both settled back in bed, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. The steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his body lulled you into a peaceful sleep, safe and cherished in his embrace.

[mivalyn]

꒷꒦ Steamy relief ꒦꒷

18+, mdni!

Ghost x fem!reader

Cw: unprotected sex, smut

!Requests are open!

Word count: 1,177

It was raining heavily outside, when you finally stumbled through the door after a grueling shift at the hospital. The cold rain had seeped through every layer of clothing, clinging to your skin and sending chills down your spine. Your hair stuck to your face in damp tendrils, and your shoes squished uncomfortably with each step. The warm glow of your home felt like an oasis, but nothing compared to the sight of your boyfriend, Ghost, rushing toward you from the kitchen the moment he heard the door open.

“Hey,” you greeted him softly, your voice a little shaky as your teeth chattered. Water dripped from the hem of your coat onto the floor, forming a small puddle at your feet.

Ghost’s eyes immediately softened with concern as he took in your soaked state. Without a word, he grabbed a towel that had been casually thrown over the back of the sofa and wrapped it snugly around your shoulders. His large hands rubbed your arms gently through the towel, trying to coax some warmth back into you.

“You’re freezing,” he said, his voice laced with worry. “Come on, honey, let’s get these wet clothes off you. Would you like to take a warm shower right now?”

“Yes, that would be great,” you replied, your voice quivering slightly from the chill that had settled into your bones. “I’m freezing.”

Then, with a hopeful tilt of your head and the softest, most pleading eyes you could muster, you added, “Will you shower with me?”

Ghost’s lips curved into a smile, the kind that made your heart flutter no matter how many times you saw it. “Of course,” he said, his voice warm and reassuring. He could never resist your puppy-dog eyes, and you both knew it. “I’ll just finish up dinner real quick. You go ahead, undress, and wait for me in the bathroom. I’ll be right there.”

Before heading back to the kitchen, he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. His lips lingered for just a moment, his presence grounding you after the whirlwind of your shift and the chaos of the storm outside.

You shuffled to the bathroom, your fingers fumbling as you peeled off your rain-soaked clothes. Each article hit the floor with a damp thud, and you couldn’t help but sigh in relief as you stood naked in the warm, steamy air of the bathroom. The thought of Ghost joining you made your heart beat a little faster, a flicker of anticipation warming you from the inside out.

It wasn’t long before the door creaked open behind you. You turned to see him stepping in, his expression softening further as his gaze swept over you. He didn’t say a word, just began unbuttoning his shirt, his movements slow and deliberate. His body, sculpted by years of training and hard work, was a sight you never tired of. His broad shoulders, defined chest, and rippling abs were enough to make your mouth water.

You bit your lip, unable to hide the way your eyes lingered on him. He noticed, of course - he always did. A knowing smirk tugged at his lips as he teased, “You must like what you see.”

“Oh, I do,” you replied with a playful glint in your eye. “But I know it gets even better. I love your broad thighs... and that big, uncut cock of yours the most.”

His chuckle was low and rich, sending a thrill down your spine. “Good to know,” he murmured, kicking off the last of his clothes. “Come on, let’s get in the shower. You need to warm up... and I think I can help with that.”

The heat in his voice was unmistakable, and it made your pulse quicken. He guided you under the shower’s warm spray, his hands steadying you as the water cascaded over your chilled skin. The warmth was instant relief, but it was nothing compared to the way his touch felt as he reached for the soap and a washcloth.

Ghost moved with purpose, his hands gentle yet firm as he lathered the soap and began washing you. His fingers brushed over your shoulders, your arms, and your back with care, but when he moved lower, his pace slowed. When his hands found your pussy, his touch became deliberate, his fingers teasing your folds while his thumb pressed lightly against your clit.

“You’re so ready for me, baby,” he said, his voice rough with desire. He lifted you effortlessly, his strong hands gripping your thighs as he pulled you against him. “Wrap your legs around my waist,” he instructed, his deep voice sending shivers through you.

You did as he said, your arms wrapping around his neck as you felt the tip of his cock press against your entrance. Slowly, he pushed inside, stretching you inch by inch until he was fully seated within you. The sensation was overwhelming, your body arching as you gasped his name.

Ghost began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, each one sending sparks of pleasure through you. His lips found yours in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as he poured all his love and passion into the moment. He shifted his angle slightly, and the next thrust had you crying out as he hit your g-spot perfectly.

Your moans grew louder, echoing off the tiled walls as he quickened his pace. The pressure building inside you was unbearable, and you clung to him desperately, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you chased your release.

“Come for me, baby,” he murmured against your ear, his voice thick with need.

And you did. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, leaving you trembling in his arms. Ghost followed moments later, his pace faltering as he buried himself deep inside you, his cock throbbing as he spilled into you.

He held you close as you both came down from your highs, his hands stroking your back soothingly as he kissed your temple. After a few moments, he gently pulled out, his cum dripping from you in a way that made you blush. Ever the caretaker, he cleaned you up, his touch tender as he made sure you were comfortable.

He carried you out of the shower, drying you off with the same care before dressing you in soft, warm clothes. His own towel hung loosely around his hips as he led you to the kitchen, where dinner was waiting.

As the two of you sat at the table, eating the meal he’d prepared, you couldn’t help but smirk. “We should shower together more often,” you said, your tone light and teasing as you winked at him.

Ghost chuckled, his lips quirking into that familiar smile that made your heart flutter. “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice warm and sincere. “We definitely should.”

You both laughed softly before returning to your meal, the unspoken bond between you stronger than ever. It was just another moment in your life together, filled with love, intimacy, and quiet joy.

[mivalyn]

☆ Tension unraveled ☆

18+, mdni!

Ghost x fem!reader

Cw: unprotected sex, fingering, smut

Word count: 1,392

!!!Requests are open!!!

After a long and grueling mission, all you wanted was peace and quiet. The kind that felt impossible to find in the chaos of base life with Task Force 141. The shower seemed like a good start, something to help you wash off the sweat, dirt, and tension that clung to you like a second skin. You slipped into the steaming water, letting it cascade over your sore muscles, your head leaning against the cool tiles as the adrenaline from the mission faded.

But when you stepped out and toweled off, you realized the tension wasn't gone. Not entirely. Something still coiled tight in your chest, thrumming low in your core. Maybe it was the stress, the close calls, or just the lingering adrenaline-but you were determined to do something about it tonight.

Sliding into an oversized shirt and a pair of simple panties, you made your way to the bed. The room was dimly lit, the faint hum of activity outside your door just background noise. As you reached into your nightstand and pulled out your vibrator, you already felt a flicker of relief-anticipation winding in your stomach as you settled against the pillows. Tonight, you weren't just unwinding. You were taking control.

As the vibrator hummed to life, you let your body relax, your legs falling apart as you teased yourself through the thin fabric of your underwear. The buzz against your sensitive skin drew a soft moan from your lips, and you slipped the panties off, tossing them carelessly to the floor. Sliding the toy between your folds, you sighed deeply, closing your eyes and letting the pleasure build slowly.

You were so lost in the sensations - the vibrations, the way your hips moved instinctively against the toy - that you didn't notice the faint sound of footsteps just outside your door.

Ghost had been on his way to his own room, intending to grab some sleep, but something stopped him. Maybe it was the faint moan he thought he'd imagined, or maybe it was curiosity. Whatever it was, it drew him closer to your door.

The sight through the slightly ajar door made him stop in his tracks.

There you were, sprawled on your bed, your legs spread wide, your head thrown back in bliss as your vibrator worked slowly inside you. The oversized shirt you wore had ridden up, leaving you completely bare to his view, the toy glistening with your arousal as you moved it in and out with deliberate, lazy strokes.

Ghost felt his pulse quicken, heat rushing through his body as a primal urge overtook him. His cock stirred against his combat pants, hardening at the sight of you. You were so lost in your own world, so vulnerable, and all he could think about was how desperately he wanted to replace that vibrator with his fingers, his tongue - his cock.

Unable to stop himself, he leaned forward, his gloved hand lightly brushing the door as he pushed it open just a fraction more. But that tiny sound - the door creaking - snapped you out of your trance.

Your eyes darted to the door, your breath catching as you saw him standing there, his tall figure shadowed by the dim light of the hallway. For a moment, you both froze. His gaze locked onto yours, his dark eyes betraying the lust that simmered beneath his otherwise stoic mask.

"I - uh - didn't mean to..." he stammered, an unusual crack in his composed demeanor. His cheeks flushed slightly, but there was no hiding the hunger in his gaze as his eyes drifted back to your exposed body.

Your lips curled into a wicked smile. "Ghost," you said softly, teasingly, "are you just going to stand there, or are you planning to help me out?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, the embarrassment melting into something darker, something more dangerous. He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

"You cheeky little minx," he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver through your body. "Do you have any idea what you're asking for?"

Your smirk widened as you leaned back against the pillows, your legs still shamelessly spread. "Not really," you admitted, your tone dripping with challenge, "but I'm more than willing to find out."

That was all the invitation he needed. Ghost crossed the room in long, deliberate strides, his intense gaze never leaving yours. The way he looked at you made your heart race, anticipation coiling tightly in your stomach. He climbed onto the bed, kneeling between your legs as his large hands slid up your thighs, spreading you even wider.

His hand moved to yours, stopping your slow motions with the vibrator. "Let me handle this," he said in a low, commanding tone. You let go, and he pulled the toy out of you, his movements slow and deliberate. He studied it for a moment before his eyes returned to your slick folds, glistening and ready for him.

"You taste as good as you look, don't you?" he muttered, more to himself than to you. His lips curled into a predatory grin as he leaned down, his hot breath brushing against your most sensitive spot.

The first swipe of his tongue against your clit sent a jolt through your body, and you let out a shaky moan. He chuckled against you, the vibration teasing your skin. "So sensitive already," he murmured before diving back in, his tongue swirling and flicking in ways that made your head spin.

You gasped when he slid a finger inside you, his thick digit stretching you just enough to make you arch off the bed. He worked it slowly, curling it upward to hit that perfect spot, his tongue never ceasing its assault on your clit.

When he added a second finger, you couldn't hold back the stream of moans that spilled from your lips. Your hips moved against his hand, chasing the pleasure as his pace quickened.

"F-fuck, Ghost-"

His low groan in response vibrated through your core, and the sensation pushed you closer to the edge. "That's it," he growled, his voice rough and full of desire. "Come for me."

Your climax hit like a tidal wave, your entire body trembling as he coaxed you through it, his fingers and tongue unrelenting until you were gasping for breath.

When he finally pulled away, he licked his fingers clean, his dark eyes locked onto yours. "We're not done yet," he said, his tone promising so much more. He stripped off his clothes, revealing a body honed from years of combat and discipline. His cock stood hard and proud, the tip glistening with pre-cum as he climbed back over you.

He climbed back on top of you, removed your oversized shirt, and gazed appreciatively at your exposed body. "You are so beautiful," he murmured, gently pinching and rolling one of your nipples between his fingers. His mouth then descended, and he began to suckle your other nipple, cupping your breast from below. He alternated his attentions, lavishing kisses and caresses on your sensitive peaks.

"Do you feel that?" he murmured then, his cock brushing against your slick entrance as he leaned down to kiss you, his tongue claiming yours in a fierce, dominating kiss. "That's all for you."

And when he finally pushed inside, filling you completely, you couldn't hold back the cry that escaped your lips. The way he moved - slow, deliberate, hitting every spot that made you see stars - left you trembling beneath him.

"Mine," he growled against your neck as his pace quickened, his thrusts deep and relentless. "You're mine."

The way he claimed you - body, soul, and everything in between - left no room for doubt. As you both reached your peak together, his release filling you with warmth, you knew this wouldn't be the last time he showed you exactly how he'd take care of you.

And as you lay in his arms afterward, your head resting against his chest, his possessive grip around your waist, you couldn't help but smile.

"You'll never need that toy again," he murmured, his voice low and firm. "If you're ever tense, you come to me. Understood?"

"Understood," you whispered, closing your eyes as sleep pulled you under, safe and sated in his arms.

[mivalyn]

♡ His to command ♡

18+, mdni!

König x fem!reader (contains smut)

Word count: 1,912

You had quickly made a name for yourself in KorTac, your sniper skills earning the respect of even the most seasoned operatives. Precision, discipline, and a cool head under presure were your trademarks. You prided yourself on keeping things professional, always putting the mission first. Yet, there was one man who consistently disrupted your focus - König.

König was unlike anyone you´d ever worked with. Tall, broad-shouldered, and exuding a quiet authority, his commanding presence made it impossible to ignore him. With every step he took, the room seemed to shrink around him. His voice, deep and resonant, always carried the weight of someone used to giving orders. Oftel laced with a heavy German accent, his words carried an edge that made everything he said feel more pointed, more deliberate.

While the others in the team found him intimidating, you felt something else entirely: intrigue. He wasn't just a leader in the field-he was something more, someone who commanded not only respect but curiosity. And your curiosity had grown over the past few months of working with him. Your interactions started out as professional, respectful nods exchanged after successful missions, but over time, your conversations became more personal. It was in the way König would offer you his thoughts after missions - his sharp, almost clinical perspective softened by quiet moments of humor.

And then there was the way he looked at you. A glance that seemed to last just a moment too long. And his protection - always keeping an eye on you, his movements always ensuring your safety, even when you didn't need it. The gesture had started to feel personal, not just professional. It was a subtle kind of dominance, gentle yet commanding, and it made your pulse quicken whenever he was near.

It had been building for weeks. The unspoken tension between you and him, simmering just below the surface, was becoming impossible to ignore. Tonight, it would finally reach its breaking point.

───────────────────────────────────────────

You lay stretched out on your bed, the rare quiet of your quarters enveloping you. A book rested on your lap, though your attention kept drifting away from the pages. It was a luxury to have a day off - free from missions and responsibilities, and you intended to enjoy it. For once, there were no gunfire or the constant hum of tactical planning. Just peace.

That peace was abruptly shattered when your door swung open, and you looked up, startled, to see König standing in the doorway. His posture was stiff, as if he had just walked off the battlefield. He was still dressed in his combat gear, his gloves in one hand, his rifle slung across his back. His expression was grim, jaw clenched, and his normally composed demeanor was frayed, something darker simmering beneath the surface.

"König?" you asked, sitting up, your book forgotten.

He didn't respond at first. The door clicked shut behind him, and the heavy thud of his boots echoed through the room as he crossed toward you. Without a word, he dropped his gear in a pile against the wall. The action was deliberate, as though he had purposefully entered with an urgency that could not be ignored.

He ran a hand through his dark hair, a silent sigh escaping from his lips. His broad shoulders were tense, and you noticed the subtle shift in his stance - the subtle power that radiated from him as he stood in front of you.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low, rough around the edges. "Komm her, Liebling." The words slipped from his lips like velvet, yet the command behind them was unmistakable.

The effect of hearing the German endearment sent a thrill through you, your heart skipping a beat. You hesitated only for a moment, before rising from the bed to approach him.

As you came within reach, König´s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with surprising gentleness for a man of his size and strength. But there was no mistaking the force in his pull as he yanked you closer, his chest pressing against yours. His lips crashed onto yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was fierce, raw, and possessive, leaving no room for hesitation. It was as if he had been holding back for far too long, and now he couldn't stop.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was heavy against your skin. His lips hovered near your ear as he whispered, the words thick with his accent. "Ich brauche dich, Y/N," he murmured, his voice rough, filled with hunger. "I can't wait any longer."

The rawness of his words sent a jolt of heat through your veins. But you didn't flinch. Instead, your lips curled into a confident smile. "Then don't," you whispered back, your voice steady but laden with anticipation.

König´s eyes darkened, his pupils dilating as his hands moved with purpose. In one fluid motion, he shoved you backward onto the bed, his powerful frame pinning you beneath him. His hands were all over you, sliding under your shirt, pulling it off with quick efficiency, as though time were suddenly a luxury you couldn't afford.

"You drive me verrückt," he growled, his German accent thick as he straddled you. "Do you know that?"

You let out a low laugh, your hands sliding over his muscular chest. "I might have an idea," you teased, a glint of mischief in your eyes.

King smirked darkly, shaking his head in mock disapproval. "Freches Mädchen," he muttered, his voice both scolding and affectionate.

His movements were slow, deliberate, savoring each inch of skin as he revealed you, inch by inch. When you were completely bare before him, he paused for a moment, his gaze scanning your body with a reverence that made you shiver.

"So schön," he murmured, his voice low with awe. The words sounded like a prayer as they slipped from his lips, his German accent making them sound even more intimate.

You met his gaze with unwavering confidence. "Then show me," you challenged, your voice sultry, daring him.

His eyes darkened, a predatory smirk curling at the corner of his lips. "Oh, Liebling," he murmured, leaning down to kiss you again, this time slower, deeper. "I'll do much more than show you."

His hands moved between your thighs, finding you already wet with anticipation. A low growl rumbled in his chest as his fingers circled you, his touch skilled, deliberate. "So eager for me already," he whispered, his accent making the words drip with dark promise.

Your breath caught as his fingers slipped inside you, the sensation sending a ripple of pleasure through your body. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice rough with need. "Let me hear you."

His pace quickened, and soon you were arching your back, your body responding to his touch in ways that left you breathless. When you finally came, it was like a tidal wave crashing over you, and you trembled beneath him as you tried to regain control.

König removed his fingers slowly, bringing them to his lips and savoring the taste. "You taste so damn good," he groaned. But he wasn't finished. He lowered himself between you legs, his mouth following his hands as he tasted you. His tongue worked over you with precise skill, each stroke drawing another breathless cry from your lips.

"König," you gasped, your fingers threading into his hair as your body tensed with another approaching orgasm.

When he rose again, his lips glistening with your arousal, his eyes were dark with desire. "Are you ready for me, mein Schatz?" he asked, his voice thick with longing.

Your lips curled into a sultry smile. "Always," you whispered.

Without another word, König positioned himself between your thighs, his cock hard and ready, and with one swift motion, he entered you. The sensation was overwhelming, the sheer force of his thrust stealing your breath. You gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders as he set a brutal pace, each thrust deep and purposeful.

"Verdammt," King growled, his hips slamming into yours. "You feel so good, Y/N. So perfect."

Every inch of him seemed to claim you, and your body responded eagerly to his touch. The room was filled with the sound of your bodies colliding, the rhythm of your coupling synchronized with the primal energy between you.

As his hand slid lower, teasing the sensitive ring of your ass, you gasped. "Do you like that, Liebling?" he teased, his voice dark and full of intent.

"Yes," you moaned, your body trembling with each motion.

King smirked, pressing a finger against your tight entrance before easing it inside. The sensation of dual penetration was overwhelming, and you cried out, your body writhing beneath him as you teetered on the edge.

"I will claim every inch of you today," King whispered in your ear, his voice a growl of need.

The intensity of his words sent a shiver of anticipation through you, and you surrendered completely, your body on fire as he took you to new heights.

Hours passed, the night stretching on as King kept his promise, exploring every part of you with unrelenting passion. When you finally collapsed together, your bodies slick with sweat and your breaths coming in heavy, uneven gasps, you felt a profound sense of exhaustion, mixed with the deep satisfaction of a night unlike any other. Your body ached in the best way possible, each muscle pleasantly sore from the intensity of their connection. You could barely move, but there was something about being in König's arms that made you feel safe, as if nothing else mattered in the world.

König, too, seemed spent, his chest rising and falling with each breath, but he didn't let go of you. He pulled you into his arms, his large hand stroking your back with a tenderness that contrasted with the force of your lovemaking just moments before. You nestled closer to him, yourr head resting against his broad chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. The comfort of his presence enveloped you, and for the first time in a long while, you felt completely at peace.

His voice, still deep and resonant, broke the silence. "You're mine," he whispered softly, the words a quiet declaration, though the possessiveness in them was unmistakable. "Mein Schatz."

You smiled against his skin, your hand tracing patterns on his chest as you looked up at him. You could feel the weight of his words, the depth of his feelings wrapped in the simple phrase. "Always," you whispered, your voice full of warmth, you fingers gently tracing the curve of his jaw.

The bond you shared felt irrevocable now, something solid and unbreakable. In the stillness of the room, you found yourself wrapped in his strength, not just physically but emotionally. It was a rare feeling for someone like you - so used to being in control, to relying only on yourself - but with him, you didn't need to be anything but yoursel. You were no longer just an operative in a world of danger; you were his, and he was yours.

You both lay there for a long while, basking in the afterglow, the world outside fading into insignificance. Even in the quiet, You knew that nothing would ever be the same again between you. This was more than a moment of passion - it was a shift in your relationship, one that went beyond the mission and the shared battlefield.

[mivalyn]

✧.* A hand to hold ✧.* (König x panic attack fem! reader)

Y/N was always in control. Every action she performed, every word she said, was thought out and intentional. She carried herself with a cool, stable presence - either in the very center of a firefight or through the tension of a tactical briefing. To her KorTac teammates, she was consistent, sharp, and unshakeable.

But no one ever questioned the price of that composure. They did not see the cracks way beneath, the weight she silently carried. There wasn't a single flaw in the mask she wore, but that didn't make it invincible.

And tonight, it was breaking.

The debrief had started like any other. A clinical breakdown of the mission, what had gone well, what could have been done differently. But when her commanding officer critiqued her decision during the mission - "An alternative approach might have reduced civilian casualties" - it cut deeper than it should have.

She'd known. She'd been replaying the scene in her mind since they left the field. The faces of the people she couldn't save, the desperate screams, the silence that followed. She'd done everything she could, but it hadn't been enough. And now her CO's words only confirmed what her mind had been screaming since the mission ended: You failed.

By the time it was over, her chest was tight, her body coiled, ready to spring. She slipped out of the room quickly, footsteps brisk, head down. She ignored her teammates' hellos, their concerned eyes. Her breath quickened as she moved through the corridors, her mind spinning faster with each step.

They'll see. Keep it together. Not here. Not now.

She couldn't go to her quarters-not when it felt like the walls were closing in. Her feet carried her to the cellar, a place she hadn't consciously chosen. It was the bottom level of the base, used for little other than storage. It was cold and quiet and dimly lit.

She pushed through the door and stumbled down the stairs, her legs weak beneath her. The weight in her chest was unbearable by the time she reached the concrete floor. She pressed her back against a stack of crates and slid down to sit on the floor.

She drew her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms tightly around them. She buried her face in her arms and willed the storm inside her to pass. But it didn't.

Her breathing turned into short, shallow gasps, her lungs unable to pull in enough oxygen. The room grew smaller, the walls closing in on all sides. Her chest constricted even further, her heart pounding against her ribs. Her hands shook uncontrollably, nails digging into her arms with an attempt at grounding herself.

You're weak. You're not good enough. They'll see you like this, and they'll leave you behind.

She pressed her forehead to her knees, trying to silence the spiral of thoughts, but it was like a dam breaking-years of guilt and fear and pressure pouring through all at once. Her hands moved to her temples, gripping her head as though she could physically stop her mind from racing.

Her throat constricted, her breathing quickening, ragged, and irregular. The more she tried to steady them, the more her body fought her. She fisted her hands, digging her nails into her palms, praying the pain would take her mind off it. It didn't.

It felt like drowning.

Her vision blurred and black dots danced at the edges of her sight. The cold of the concrete seeped into her, but it wasn't enough to pull her back. Her thoughts spiraled, louder and louder, drowning out the faint hum of machinery and the distant murmurs of the base.

She didn't hear the footsteps until they were close.

"Y/N?"

Her head jerked up; her sight was blurry with tears that would not fall. She blinked to settle her vision and made out a figure standing in the doorway, in a silhouette against the dim light from the stairwell. It took a moment for her brain to register who this could be. König.  

Her stomach plummeted. Of all the people who might find her, why did it have to be him?

“Go away,” she croaked, her voice hoarse and trembling. She turned her face away, her body curling inward again. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.” His voice was calm, steady.

She clenched her fists tighter, her body trembling as another wave of panic threatened to pull her under. “I said leave!” she snapped, her voice breaking on the last word. “I don’t need to be fixed!”

König didn’t leave. He took a step closer, his boots heavy against the concrete, but stopped a few feet away. He knelt slowly, his towering frame lowering to her level.

“I’m not here to fix you,” he said quietly. “I’m here to make sure you’re not alone.”

His voice cut through the storm, a tenuous lifeline amidst the chaos. She turned a denial, her face pressed into her knees. "You don't understand," she mumbled, her voice muffled and weak. "Anyone who sees me like this. You see me like this. They‘ll think I'm weak."

"No," König said with a firm voice. "They won't.

"You don't understand!" Her voice rose, shaking and strained. Tears were spilling freely now, hot against her cheeks. "If they see me like this, they'll think I can't handle it. That I don't belong here."

"That's not true."  

"You don't know what it's like!" she yelled back, her voice cracking. She actually gasped for breath, her chest heaving, the panic clawing at her again.  

"I do," König said softly.

She froze, her breathing still ragged. Slowly, she lifted her head, her red-rimmed eyes meeting his.

“I know what it’s like to feel like you’re drowning,” he continued, his voice steady but quiet. “To want to disappear because the storm in your head won’t stop. I’ve felt it too.”

Her gaze searched his face, desperate for any sign of a lie. But there was none.

"You think this mask I wear is just for the battlefield?" He motioned faintly to the hood resting around his shoulders. "It's not. Sometimes it's easier to hide behind it than to let people see what's underneath."

Her breathing hitched, her tears slowing as she clung to his words.

"You're not weak, Y/N," he said firmly. "You're human. And you don't have to face this alone."

She gave a choked sob, and her shoulders shook. "I… I don't know how to stop it."

"You don't have to stop it all at once," König said, grounding. "Just start with me. Breathe with me. Can you try?"

She was hesitant, trembling in her body. "I've tried before," she whispered. "It doesn't work -"

"It will," he said, in a calm, certain voice. "Just look at me. Focus on my breathing. You don't have to do this alone."

For the first time, she let herself take in the sight of him fully. His pale blue eyes were steady, unwavering-an anchor in all the chaos. Slowly, painfully, she matched her breaths to his, though they hitched and broke several times.

"That's good," König muttered. "Again. In through your nose. One… two… three. Out through your mouth. One… two… three."

The minutes ticked by, but the storm inside her slowly muffled, the tension in her chest slowly releasing. Finally, after so many minutes, her breaths evened out. Her body slumped in exhaustion, and she wiped at her face with shaking palms. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Thank you."

König said nothing. He remained as he had been, cross-legged on the cold floor. There was something calm, unyielding about his presence—a silent reassurance that she was not alone.

And for the first time in years, Y/N let herself believe it.

Word count: 1,282

[mivalyn]

❆ Hold on tight ❆ (John "Soap" MacTavish x hypothermic fem!reader)

The mission had gone flawlessly, but victory had come at a heavy cost. Fot three grueling days, Y/N and her team had maneuvered through enemy territory, completing their objectives with military percision. The enemy was relentless, and there had been barely any respite during those long hours. Now, as they trudged through the dense, snow covered forest toward the extraction point, the harsh toll of their ordeal was beginning to show. The weight of exhaustion hung over them like a shadow, their limbs heavy and their minds dulled by the constant vigilance needed to survive.

The sky above was a dull, oppressive gray, its clouds swirling with dark promises of a coming strom. Snowflakes spiraled lazily down, at first a gentle flurry, but soon picking up speed, whirling through the air like vengeful specters. The bitter wind stung their skin, cutting through every layer of tactical gear they wore. The cold wasn´t just uncomfortable - it was debilitating, sapping what little strenght remained in their weary bodies.

Captain Price led the group, his steps steady but measured, his experience and years in the field allowing him to remain calm under pressure. His sharp eyes scanned the dense woods, ever on alert for any sign of danger, despite the exhaustion that had begun to settle into his bones. Gaz moved just behind him, his rifle always at the ready, his eyes constantly darting between the trees and his teammates. Soap lingered near the back, his gaze more focused on Y/N than anything else. She was lagging behind - a rare sight for someone as resilient as her. She had always been a pillar of strenght, someone who could push through any situation. But today, there was something different in her stride, something Soap couldn´t shake off. Ghost brought up the rear, his silent presence a constant source of reassurance.

"Y/N, you alright back there?" Soap called, his usual cheer missing from his voice. Concern lingered beneath the words, though he tried to keep it hidden. The wind carried his voice, but Y/N´s response came in a faint murmur.

"I´m fine," she replied, but the words lacked their ususal conviction. Her head hung low, her steps slower than normal, the weight of fatigue dragging at her. "We´re almost there."

Soap´s brow furrowed. He could feel the shift in her energy, a subtle but undeniable change. She was usually the one who kept the group on track, the one who never fell behind. But now, she was struggling. He slowed his pace to fall in beside her, his gaze never leaving her form. There was something off - something he couldn´t quiet put his finger on. Her movements were stiff, almost mechanical, and her breath came in shallow gasps. Soap had seen exhaustion take down men and women, but this was different. This wasn´t just fatigue.

Suddenly, Ghost´s low voice cut through the tension, his observation calm but chilling. "She´s moving slower," he said, his tone sharp with concern. "She´s cold - too cold."

Soap´s heart skipped a beat. He glanced at her, seein the faint tremor in her shoulders, the tightnessin her movements. Her skin was pale beneath the layers of her gear, her gloved hands gripping her rifle too tightly, as though trying to hold onto something, anything, to keep her grounded.

"Y/N, talk to me," Soap said, his voice softer now. He reached out, his hand brushing lightly against her shoulder. "Are you sure you´re alright? No shamein taking a break."

She met his eyes, but the usual spark in her gaze was gone. Instead, there was something distant, almost empty. "I´m fine," she repeated, but there was a fragility in her voice now. A crack that Soap couldn´t ignore.

The snow began to fall faster, the wind biting even harder as it whipped through the trees, stinging their faces. The cold had started to penetrate their clothing numbing their skin, seeping into their bones. Soap´s concern deepened. He could feel now - something was terribly wrong. Y/N´s pace had slowed even further, each step heavier than the last. Her breath was shallow, ragged. The world aroud them seemed to blur, the cold and snow making it harder to focus on anything but her.

"Bloody hell," Soap muttered, his heart hammering in his chest as he stepped closer to her. Her movements were becoming sluggish, her face growing increasingly pale. He watched in horror as her legs wavered, the strenght draining from them. She was swaying, struggling to stay upright. And then, whithout warning, her boot caught on a root, and she stumbled.

Soap was there in an instant, his arms outstretched to catch her before she hit the ground. "Y/N!" His voice was sharp, filled with panic as she sagged against him, her legs buckling completly. He could feel the cold emanating from her like a freezing wave. It was too much, fartoo much.

"I´m... just tired," she murmured weakly, slurring her words as though every syllable required an immense effort.

"No," Soap snapped, his voice sharp with urgency. He gently cupped her face, trying to focus her blurry eyes in him. "That´s not tired. That´s hypothermia. Y/N, you need to stay awake. You need to stay with me."

"Y/N!"Soap shouted, turning his head to look at the others, his panic rising. "We´ve got a problem. She needs help now!"

Captain Price and Gaz turned sharply, their faces hardening at the sight of Y/N´s near collapse. Ghost was already moving, his practiced hands swiftly pulling Y/N into his arms. Her head lolled weakly against his chest, and Soap´s stomach clenched at the sight of her - she was barely holding on.

Price cursed under his breath. "We can´t wait here. She won´t make it until extraction. Soap, Ghost, get her to cover. Gaz, with me. We´ll secure the area."

Without hesitation, Ghost knelt and lifted Y/N into his arms as though she weighted nothing. Soap quickly grabbed her pack and scanned the area, desperate for any kind of shelter. A dense cluster of pines loomed nearby, their thick trunks offering a small chance of reprieve from the raging wind. Ghost carried her there, carefully setting her down against the thick bark of a tree while Soap moved to start a fire.

The wind howled around them, the snow falling in a suffocating veil, but Soap worked quickly, his hands numb from the cold as he fumbled with his flint. He couldn´t afford to waste any more time.

"Stay with us, Y/N," Soap murmured softly, his voice urgent but still gentle as he struck the flint again, his breath misting in the freezing air. "You´re tougher than this. Don´t make me drag you all the way back."

Ghost, kneeling beside her, stared intently at her face, his sharp eyes assessing her condition. His voice was calm, but it carried an edge of cold truth. "She´s not quitting, but she´s freezing to death."

Soap felt his chest tighten. Every second felt like eternity. He needed to do something - anything - to bring her back.

The fire finally sparked, casting warm light into the bleak night. Gaz appeared then, his hand shaking as he wrapped an emergency thermal blanket around Y/N´s fragile form, carefully tucking it around her shaking body. Soap crouched beside her, his gloved hands rubbing her arms, trying to bring back some warmth.

"C´mon, lass," Soap urged, his voice now firm but laced with concern. "You´ve got more fight in you than this. Don´t let this damn snow win."

Her lips parted, her breath shallow as she whispered. Soap leaned closer, starining to hear. "Cold..."

"Aye," he replied, forcing a small grin despite the tightness in his chest. "It´s cold, but you´re not going down like this. Ghost and I didn´t drag you through hell just for a little snow to take you out."

Ghost adjusted the blanket, making sure she was covered properly. "She needs body heat," he said, his voice calm but insistent. "Soap, you´re better at this."

Without hesitation, Soap settled beside her, pulling her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her. Her head rested limply against his shoulder, her body ice-cold against his chest. He could feel every inch of her shivering form, and it sent a sharp pang of fear through him.

"Gaz, stoke that fire," Soap barked, his voice tight with worry. "Captain, how far´s the chopper?"

"Five minutes out," Price answered sharply, his voice hard with determination.

Soap leaned close, his breath warm against her ear. "Hear that, Y/N? Five minutes. You just need to hold on for five more minutes."

Her eyelids fluttered, her gaze unfocused, and she whispered his name, "Soap..."

He squeezed her tighter, his heart skipping a beat at the sound of her voice, weak though it was. "You´re a terrible liar," he teased softly, the relief washing over him like a wave. "But we´ll work on that later."

The rhythmic thrum of the helipocter´s rotors began to cut through the strom, drawing closer with every passing second. Soap´s grip on Y/N tightened, his body acting as a shild against the cold. Ghost stayed close, his rifle at the ready, ever watchful.

When the helicopter finally touched down, the medics rushed forward, carefully lifting Y/N from Soap´s arms. They wrapped her in heated blankets, checking her vitals, but Soap refused to let go of her hand as they moved her toward the chopper. He climbed in beside her, still gripping her hand as if letting go would make her slip away. The medics worked quickly, but Soap´s eyes never left her face. Her features were still pale, her breath shallow, but the faintest pulse of life lingered there. He couldn´t bring himself to look away from her.

"You´re stuck with me now," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the roar of the helicopter blades. He forced a small grin, though his heart was pounding in his chest. "This isn´t how it ends, Y/N. Not like this."

Y/N´s lips twitched, her eyes fluttering open briefly. "Soap..." she whispered, her voice soft and raspy. There was something fragile anout her - something he´s never seen before. For all her strenght, her resilience, she had never seemed so vulnerable.

"I´m right her," Soap replied, squeezing her hand gently. The moment felt like it stretched on forever, the hum of the chopper´s engines surrounding them like a barrier against the cold, against everything outside that could threaten them.

Ghost climed into the chopper after them, his usual expression unreadable, but Soap could see the rare flicker of something softer in his eyes. The man was always in control, but this - this was different. He had seen Y/N in worse situations, had always her to bounce back, but there was something about her now that put even Ghost on edge.

Price and Gaz were already inside, their focus trained on the exterior as they prepared to leave the storm behind them. Soap´s focus remaind entirely on Y/N, watching as the continued to monitor her, checking her pulse, adjusting her temperature. The atmosphere inside the helicopter felt strangely tense, as though they were all holding their breath, concerned about Y/N.

As the chopper lifted off, breaking through the clouds and into the open skies, Soap couldn´t help but steal glances at Y/N. He couldn´t shake the images of her collapsing in hi arms, her body so cold it felt as though he was holding onto a lifeless shell. He knew he had to stay strong - he had to stay focused - but something in him shifted. Maybe it was the way she looked at him with those hazy, exhausted eyes, or maybe it was the desperate hope he felt when she whispered his name. Either way, he couldn´t ignore it anymore.

His gaze remaind fixed on Y/N, watching as the medics worked over her, slowly bringing her temperature back up. The warmth of the chopper contrasted sharply with the bitter cold they´d just left behind, and he could already see the slow return of color to her cheeks. But that lingering fear - fear that he might lose her, that she might slip away despite everything they´d done - clung to him like a shadow.

He shifted closer, not caring that the medics were still attending to her. His hand remained firmly grasped in hers, not wanting to let go. It felt foolish to even think about it, but there was something about her that had drawn him in deeper than he’d ever expected. Her sharp wit, her relentless determination, the way she could take down an entire squad without blinking - it had always intrigued him, made him respect her. But this… this was something else.

Soap’s voice came out in a whisper, his words for her alone. “I don’t know if you can hear me right now, but… you’re more than just a teammate to me, Y/N.” His words felt raw, more honest than he had ever been with anyone. The way her fingers tightened slightly around his hand was enough to make him feel like he wasn’t entirely lost in the storm.

She shifted slightly, her eyelids flickering open again. This time, she met his gaze with something that wasn’t exhaustion or pain - there was a glimmer of recognition. It was faint, but it was there. The same glimmer that had always been present between them, the unspoken bond forged through countless battles together. But now, it felt different. Stronger. More fragile, maybe. “Soap…” Her voice was rough, but there was a small smile tugging at her lips. A weak, tentative smile, but it was enough to make his heart skip a beat. “Yeah, I’m here.” His grip on her hand tightened, almost like a lifeline. He leaned in closer, as if the distance between them could still make a difference. “You’re gonna be fine. We’re gonna get you back, Y/N.”

Her eyes fluttered closed again, but this time, Soap didn’t feel the same panic rising in his chest. The color had returned to her cheeks, and her breathing, though still shallow, seemed steadier now. For the first time since she’d collapsed, Soap allowed himself to relax just a little. She wasn’t out of the woods yet, but she was alive. She was fighting.

As the helicopter soared through the night, heading toward the safety of the extraction point, Soap kept vigil over Y/N. His mind was still racing, still replaying everything that had happened - the moment she’d collapsed, the coldness that had gripped her - but now, something new was taking root in his chest. It wasn’t just relief that he felt. It was something deeper, something he hadn’t been ready to admit before. But now, as he watched over her, something inside him clicked into place.

She had always been a force in his life, a driving presence, and now, as her pulse steadied under his hand, he knew that she had become something more than just a teammate. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but somewhere along the way, Soap had fallen in love with Y/N.

And he would be damned if he let her go now.

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