#and not get knotted up about it. (I sound so determined when I write it out and feel like a hypocrite - but a little hypocrisy is sometimes

[siena-sevenwits]

🫶

[collaredsoldat]

Shower Suds.

summary: You give Soldat his first bath out of captivity.

warnings: Post!HYDRA Winter Soldier | Non-sexual nudity | Mentions of scars and injuries | Self-Harm mention | Post!HTP and abuse | PTSD symptoms & behavior

a/n: This wasn't supposed to be so long, but somehow it always happens when I write about him. Something sorta comforting with some recovery thrown in there. Unedited because I worked on this for so long lol ignore mistakes please! ;; wc: 5.8k

Filthy. You felt bad, really.

There was a lot of problems to tackle with Soldat's condition, but first thing's first...the soldier needed a bath. Badly.

He was dirty, his hair knotted, matted, greasy, his skin was covered in sweat and dirt, probably blood under the black uniform he still wore. The poor man stunk, and he didn't seem to even notice. Or care.

You found yourself in a bit of a hard situation, unsure of the best approach to cleanse him. A bath seemed problematic; he would essentially be marinating in his own grime, which was far from ideal. Would he sit for that long? Would he fight you? You weren't entirely positive.

On the other hand, a shower presented its own set of challenges. Your observations over the past days had revealed his struggle with prolonged standing. He didn't seem to want to stand for very long and often sat or laid down when he could. The majority of his time was spent either huddled in the furthest corner of the room or barricaded within the confines of the small closet, as if seeking refuge from an unseen threat.

As you mulled over the options, weighing the pros and cons of each, you ultimately figured a shower would be better in terms of cleanliness…if anything, you could have him sit in the bottom of the tub. Better than sitting in dirty water with the increased possibility of infection.

But there was one problem. How the hell would you get him into the bathroom in the first place?

You took a breath in, preparing for the worst, and went to the room he stayed in. It was the spare room in your apartment you barely used, but had been furnished as a bedroom in case someone you knew needed a place for a night or something. Not that you ever figured your friends would want to stay with you, you didn't have many to begin with. When you came in, your eyes scanned the room until they landed on him, spotting him huddled up in the corner like expected.

He didn't look up at you when you walked in, his gaze fixed downward and obscured by the curtain of his long, unkempt hair. The stillness that enveloped him was almost unnerving. Only when you took a few steps closer did he react, his head snapping up at you. His eyes bright blue against the dark, messy ink that surrounded them, like he tried to smudge off the black paint but failed.

You took another step forward, your movements slow and deliberate. You could see the change in his demeanor immediately with your approach, even as careful as it was; his breathing became more rapid and shallow, his chest rising and falling at an accelerated pace like he was preparing to be harmed.

"It's okay," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your hand extended slightly, palm open to try to soothe him. Carefully, you lowered yourself to his level, bending your knees until you were crouching before him. This position, you hoped, would make you appear less imposing and more approachable.

In the few days he had been in your care, you had begun to discern patterns in his behavior, learning to recognize the subtle cues that indicated his comfort level. You had started to understand which actions he perceived as threatening and which ones helped him feel more at ease. It was a delicate balance, one that required patience and constant observation, but you were determined to create an environment where he could begin to feel safe and secure.

"I think...a bath sounds nice. Doesn't it?" You asked him softly, smiling slightly to show you weren't intending to do any sort of harm. "It will feel good to clean off all that dirt...nice and warm water too...you've been shivering." You noted how cold he appeared to be, he was still latched in his cold clothes from when you found him. You were surprised the uniform kept in water.

He remained motionless, prompting you to reluctantly take a step backwards to leave him alone, you’d try later. As you turned away, the faint sound of movement caught your attention. Glancing back, you saw the soldier had risen to his feet, his eyes fixed upon you with an air of expectancy. "Would you like to come and shower?" you inquired, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Да." His voice was a harsh, grating sound, reminiscent of shattered glass scraping against parched earth. It was as though he hadn't uttered a word or tasted a drop of water in an eternity. Despite the brevity and roughness of his reply, it carried a weight of affirmation. You found yourself oddly relieved by this simple acknowledgment. It wasn't much, but in that moment, it felt like a significant step forward. The fact that he had agreed seemed like a small victory.

You had him in the bathroom. That was a good thing.

You pivoted slowly to face him, your gaze carefully scanning his imposing figure. For behaving so meekly, he was an intimidating body to be this close to. Your eyes meticulously traced the contours of his suit, lingering on the intricate array of tactical belts and buckles that adorned his outfit. Each piece seemed to serve a specific purpose, hinting at the dangerous nature of his profession. Your hand tentatively reached out, fingers trembling slightly as they approached one of the sturdy buckles.

Your action was met with an immediate and startling response from the soldier. His metal hand shot up with inhuman speed, grasping your wrist tightly, the cold metal a stark contrast to your warm skin. His hold was firm and unyielding, like a vice grip, yet it wasn't painful.

As his hand clasped around your wrist, his entire body tensed, transforming into a living statue. You couldn't help but flinch slightly at the abruptness of his reaction, your body instinctively recoiling even as his grip held you in place.

"I-It's okay, I promise," you managed to say, your voice deliberately calm and steady to avoid startling him further. You took a deep breath, choosing your words carefully. "I'm just going to help you undress for the shower... I promise I won't hurt you or do anything you're not comfortable with. We're just getting you cleaned up, that's all."

Your words didn't seem to have much effect at first. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, and his jaw flexed with tension. You remained patient, maintaining a soothing tone and open body language. "Take all the time you need," you added softly. "I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere. It’s just you and me." His eyes scanned you intently, searching for any hint of deception or ill intent. You met his gaze steadily, allowing him to see the sincerity in your eyes. After what felt like an eternity, his grip on your wrist slowly loosened until he finally released you completely.

Second time's the charm. You reached out with steady hands, your fingers finding the first buckle on his tactical suit. With careful precision, you unfastened it, the metallic click echoing softly in the bathroom. Then, you moved to the next one, and the next, methodically working your way through each fastening. The process was slow but deliberate, each buckle giving way under your patient touch until, finally, the last one came undone. You paused, surveying your handiwork as the suit lay open, no longer confining him.

With the buckles undone, your attention turned to the decked out belt encircling his hips. You grasped the front, feeling the sturdy material beneath your fingers. You pulled the belt free from the thick buckle, the black leather sliding smoothly through the loops. As you removed the belt, you took care to lay it gently on the floor beside you, the heavy belt colliding with the tile was bound to make him jump and you didn’t want that.

The belt now removed, you returned your focus to the suit itself. Your hands found the straps, and you began to loosen them, pulling them out slowly and methodically. His uniform reminded you of a rehashed straight jacket, the uniform nearly acting just as one. When the tight suit gradually relinquished its grip, you noticed an immediate change in the soldier’s demeanor. The restrictive pressure eased, and you could see his chest rise and fall more freely. It was as if a weight had been lifted, allowing him to breathe deeply for the first time in who knows how long.

You watched, a mix of concern and relief washing over you, as he took in several deep breaths. The realization hit you then, a jolt of disbelief and worry. The suit had been so constricting that it had barely allowed him to breathe properly. The thought was infuriating. What kind of protection was that? What twisted logic had led to the creation of gear that endangered its wearer almost as much as it shielded them? You found yourself shaking your head in disbelief. What the hell...

"There we go...good..." You praised calmly, your voice a soothing whisper in the quiet room. He stood before you, now shirtless, his muscular frame tense with anticipation as he awaited your next move. Your eyes couldn't help but linger on his exposed torso, taking in every detail of his battle-worn body.

His skin was a canvas marked by the harsh realities of his past. Bruises in various stages of healing painted his flesh in a morbid palette of purples, yellows, and greens. Fresh cuts, angry and red, intermingled with older, silvery scars, creating a chaotic tapestry across his skin. Each mark had a different cause, accidental, intentional, self inflicted.

Your gaze was inevitably drawn to the most prominent feature: the junction where flesh met metal at his shoulder. The scar tissue surrounding his prosthetic arm was a sight that made your heart ache. It wasn't a clean, surgical line as one might expect, but rather a jagged, angry border that spoke of crude methods and little regard for the body it was attached to. The metal seemed to dig cruelly into his flesh, as if it were trying to consume more of him. You couldn't help but wonder about the pain he must have endured during the procedure, imagining how they had torn him apart with brutal efficiency, prioritizing function over comfort or aesthetics.

Despite the visible evidence of his suffering, he stood tall and stoic, awaiting your next move with a mixture of trust and trepidation in his eyes.

You offered him a gentle, comforting smile, you were acutely aware of his attempts to appear strong, but the reality of his fear was unmistakable. In that spare room, his demeanor reminded you of a cornered animal, flinching and retreating whenever the door creaked open. He cowered from you, even when you tried to give him water to drink. The sight tugged at your heartstrings, you didn’t know much of what happened just yet, but you knew whatever it was must’ve been utterly horrific.

"I'm going to help you out of your trousers now," you explained in a soft, reassuring tone. "Then we'll get you into the shower. The warm water will help you feel better, I promise." You paused, giving him a moment to process your words before adding, "Is that okay with you?"

He remained motionless. His lack of response was telling - not a nod, not a word, not even a flicker of acknowledgment in his eyes. He simply stood there, statuesque, as if bracing himself for whatever was to come next. The stillness was almost eerie, so you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was going to come. You truly hoped he wouldn't begin to put up a fight randomly, you knew you couldn't take him if he did.

You grasped the zipper of his pants and slowly pulled it down, the metallic sound echoing in the quiet room. As the fabric loosened, you gently tugged at the waistband, shuffling them down his muscular thighs and allowing the pants to fall around his ankles. Without a word, he stepped out of them, his movements controlled as he jerked his foot to get the leg of the pants off completely.

His gaze remained fixed on you, his expression betraying no hint of discomfort or self-consciousness at his state of undress. You found yourself averting your eyes, a mix of respect for his privacy and your own sudden shyness causing you to look away.

Turning your attention to the shower, you reached out and adjusted the taps, your hand testing the water until it reached a comfortably warm temperature, you could always adjust it upon request. The sound of cascading water filled the bathroom, creating a soothing ambiance. Once satisfied with the water's warmth, you looked back towards him, your arm extending in a welcoming gesture towards the bathtub. "Come on," you encouraged, your voice soft and inviting, "it's nice and warm." A gentle smile played on your lips, your expression meant to convey comfort and reassurance.

But even with your efforts, he remained motionless, his feet seemingly rooted to the spot where he stood. His lack of movement prompted you to maintain your encouraging demeanor, your smile unwavering as you waited patiently for him to make a decision.

The steam from the shower began to fill the room, creating a misty atmosphere that hung between you, yet he showed no signs of stepping forward or retreating. He just stood there, planted like a tree. You frowned, seeing that he wasn't going to budge.

"Hey, it's okay," you said softly, "It's just water, and it's nice and warm. I promise it will feel so good. You've been shivering for a while now, and I bet the warmth will be really comforting for your cold skin. There's nothing to be afraid of." You continued to encourage him, your tone patient and understanding.

The soldier's reaction was tense and wary. His metal arm plates made a series of soft clicking sounds as he shifted his arm and adjusted his stance, his body language radiating discomfort and distrust, maybe even a hint of growing agitation. The way he eyed the water, you could have sworn he thought you were about to subject him to some form of aquatic torture. His entire demeanor screamed of deep-seated fear and suspicion.

"It's alright, really... Look, see?" You demonstrated by reaching out and touching the water, letting your fingers trail through the warm liquid. You made sure he could clearly see that the water didn't cause you any harm or discomfort. Could he be afraid of the water? The concept seemed strange, but then again, you didn't really know or understand the full extent of his experiences or traumas. You had made so much progress with him already, and now all that remained was for him to sit under the water and allow you to wash him. It seemed so simple, and yet you could see the monumental struggle playing out behind his eyes.

He finally seemed to respond when he observed that you remained unharmed by the water, and he cautiously approached, his movements slow and deliberate. His eyes wore wariness with a flicker of curiosity, carefully scanning your form and ensuring you made no abrupt or threatening gestures. As he inched closer, his body language betrayed a conflicting desire for comfort and an instinctive need for self-preservation.

Once he had convinced himself of a relative level of safety, he gingerly stepped into the bath. The warmth of the water seemed to catch him off guard, and with an almost childlike lack of grace, he unceremoniously lowered himself into a sitting position with a loud thud and for a moment, he appeared startled by his own actions.

Now fully seated on the bottom of the tub, he allowed the soothing warmth of the water to cascade down his dirt-encrusted body. The grime that had accumulated over time began to loosen and swirl around him, running down his body and creating murky patterns at the bottom of the textured bathtub.

He sat motionless, gradually acclimating to the comforting warmth of the water cascading down his back in a gentle, soothing shower. It was foreign to him, a luxury he had been denied for far too long. His time with HYDRA had been bereft of such simple comforts; the organization was a cruel and unforgiving entity, more akin to a heartless taskmaster than a nurturing presence.

His experiences with something as harmless as water was vastly different to what you were treating him with now - he was subjected to harsh, icy streams forcefully directed at him, the intense pressure through the hose so severe it felt as though it was stripping away layers of his skin.

He remembers being forcibly submerged by his handlers, a cruel and twisted game that shattered his expectations of a simple, cleansing bath. What should have been a moment of respite transformed into a nightmarish struggle for survival, where he was forced to submit to their ruthless whims.

The memory of sharp, abrasive bristles tearing at his skin and the application of painful, saline substances lingers. He didn’t want to think about the unnecessary groping he encountered either, something he wished he forgot along with his life during the chair’s wipes.

These traumatic encounters left an indelible mark on his psyche, turning what should have been a basic human necessity into a source of fear and anxiety. The handlers' sadistic approach to something as fundamental as personal hygiene served as a constant reinforcement of their control over every aspect of his existence, even the most intimate and essential.

For him, the act of bathing became synonymous with vulnerability, pain, and the complete loss of autonomy, a far cry from the soothing, rejuvenating experience it was meant to be.

This gentle treatment you were providing was so different from the abusive handling he had endured in HYDRA, it almost caused him to panic, the feigning comforts he were offered by handlers before tricked him too many times, and he refused to let his guard down.

His glacial eyes gazed up at you, the poor man looked absolutely pitiful under the steamy water, his once greasy hair now thoroughly soaked as rivulets ran down the contours of his entire body. You took a breath and exhaled out a soft sigh, your hand slowly reaching for your own body wash. You didn't have any products specifically designed for men, so your expensive shampoo would have to suffice until you went shopping.

You pumped the bottle twice, watching as the clear, slightly viscous shampoo pooled into your open palm and the refreshing scent of cucumber and mint permeated the humid air, filling your nostrils with its crisp, clean aroma. You turned and addressed him softly, "Alright, I'm going to wash your hair now. Just try to relax and sit still for me, okay? This might feel a bit cold at first, but I promise it'll feel good once I start massaging it in."

The soldier regarded you with an inscrutable expression, his eyes betraying only a hint of that fight-or-flight instinct, his mind was reeling as he battled the urge to respond to your presence. You knew he had the strength to easily break your arm if he chose to, so you tried your best to be as slow and careful as possible. Your fingers delicately threaded through his hair, methodically working the shampoo into a rich lather. You watched as the suds multiplied and foamed, the soapy shampoo pure white on top and slowly stained the closer it was to his scalp.

You noticed that every so often he would flinch ever so slightly or instinctively pull away from your hands. You wondered if he had hidden injuries or tender spots on his scalp, or bruises or cuts concealed beneath his hair, or maybe knots of tension that had formed from prolonged stress or blunt impacts. His hair must’ve been yanked around, his scalp was extremely tender and while you did your best to soothingly massage, he didn’t enjoy it as much as you hoped because of the discomfort there.

"It's okay, I understand it might be a bit uncomfortable. I’m just getting all that pesky dirt and grime out." You spoke in a gentle, reassuring tone, moving a little bit quicker so you could rinse and move on. After thoroughly rinsing his hair, you applied conditioner in the same manner as the shampoo, and then rinsed it out again. He looked much better now, his hair was now clean, wet, and sleek, with a smooth texture and a noticeable shine. It was so much better than before, and it had to feel better too.

Your hand extended under the rain of water, dampening a soft, handheld washcloth and applying a generous amount of body wash to it. You worked the cloth until it produced a rich lather. The soldier moved which caught your eye, you looked up at him and saw he had recoiled, his gaze fixed warily on the washcloth. He became noticeably slower and more hesitant, his eyes widening slightly as he regarded the cloth with apparent apprehension, as if it posed a threat. You furrowed your brow at his reaction to the cloth, he looked at it like you held a weapon of some kind.

"Hey, it’s alright…this won’t hurt. It’s just a cloth, see? A cloth with some soap," you said softly, you felt so torn up about his reaction to the simplest of things. "I won't hurt you, I promise, I'm just going to wash you a bit...get all that dirt and blood off you." You raised your hand holding the washcloth in a placating gesture. “It’s warm, it will feel good scrubbing off all that dirt, you’ll be nice and clean.”

Gradually, he relented and shifted backwards to where he had been sitting, permitting you to gently glide the damp cloth across his skin, meticulously removing every trace of grime from his body. After a few minutes of washing him, you noticed he was beginning to find comfort in the experience. His eyelids drooped, and his head dipped down slightly, a tired expression settling over his features as he succumbed to the soothing sensation of your ministrations. He wasn’t exactly serene, but he was too drowsy to focus on much else other than the feeling of the rag gliding over his back and flesh arm.

You adjusted him and you tended to his metal arm, diligently working the cloth between the intricate plates and joints of titanium, ensuring that no speck of dirt remained. You weren’t exactly sure how the arm was cleaned prior to finding him, but clearly there wasn’t a worry about rust or anything of the sort. The soldier remained motionless, allowing you unhindered access as the warm water cascaded over his back, leaving a rosy tinge in its wake. He enjoyed the hot temperature, he hadn’t felt hot water in decades.

Your focus then shifted to his lower extremities, concentrating on scrubbing his legs and feet. As the rag moved up to a more sensitive area, you paused, pulling the rag off his skin and slowly extending the washcloth to him. You pointed towards his privates, you softly instructed, "You can…get right there, I’d rather not touch you in that spot."

The furrow on the soldier's brow gave away his visible confusion, his eyes darting between you and the offered rag with a mixture of uncertainty and hesitation. It was clear that he was contemplating with the decision of whether to accept your gesture or not, if there was an ulterior motive, or if this was some sort of test. After what seemed like an eternity of internal debate, he finally extended a trembling hand towards you. His movements were slow and deliberate, as if he were approaching a wild animal rather than a simple cloth.

He grasped the rag from your outstretched palm, his fingers curling around it slowly. Once in possession of the cloth, he set about the task of cleaning himself. His actions, though quick, lacked the assurance of someone accustomed to such basic self-care. Each motion seemed so carefully calculated, as if he were relearning a long-forgotten, essential skill. It had been so long since he was allowed to clean himself. His movements were unsteady, his hands quivering slightly as he went about his ablutions.

It had clearly been an extensive period since he had been granted even this small measure of independence. The concept of autonomy was a luxury he had been denied for far too long.

When he was done with his hurried cleansing, the soldier's gaze immediately sought yours out. His eyes, still holding the rag, were filled with expectation, awaiting your next command. His posture tense and ready to respond to whatever instruction you might provide. The rag remained clutched in his hand, as if he were unsure whether to return it or continue holding onto this small token of independence.

"Good, you're all done," you offered a warm smile to him. Despite the wounds still visible on his body, you felt a sense of accomplishment knowing that at least the layers of dirt and grime had been washed away, your work getting him clean would pay off and be better for the both of you. You reached over and turned off the water, the sudden silence broken only by the soft dripping from the showerhead. "Let's get you dried off," you said softly, gesturing for him to step out of the shower.

He complied wordlessly, his movements careful as he stepped onto the bathroom mat. You couldn't help but notice how vulnerable he looked, standing there dripping wet, his eyes never leaving your face, his body completely littered in discoloration. Reaching for a large, fluffy towel, you unfolded it and wrapped it around his shoulders, enveloping him in its warmth to fight off the rapidly cooling water droplets all over him.

As you began to slowly dry his body, you noticed a change come over him. His softened expression now returned to its usual blank mask and the brief relaxation he showed in the shower was long gone by now. His body returned to the stiffness he had before he got in. His eyes remained fixed on you, following your every movement with an intensity that was almost unnerving.

You worked in the quiet calm of the bathroom, carefully patting dry each part of his body, mindful of his injuries. The soldier remained motionless, allowing you to maneuver him as needed, but offering no assistance, like a doll. It was as if he had retreated back into himself, leaving only an empty shell for you to tend to. You wondered what he was thinking behind those watchful, guarded eyes, they were pretty up close. Glacial, stormy blue irises that had been glued to you since you started to tend to him.

After drying him off, you were lucky to find a pair of boxers in your apartment and helped him into them, where they came from wasn’t something you could remember at the moment, but you were glad you had them. He cooperated as you dressed him, then stood there clutching the towel around himself like a security blanket.

His gaze fixed on you with a mixture of expectation and vulnerability, as if silently asking for further guidance or comfort. His wide eyes blinked languidly, and his soft pink lips formed an almost imperceptible pout, giving him an endearing, slightly lost appearance.

Lost. He embodied the word entirely. Physically, mentally, emotionally.

Taking in his disheveled state, you smiled a little, "How about we get your hair detangled, hm?" Your voice was warm and reassuring as you reached up, your fingers lightly brushing against the damp strands, feeling the water practically seep out of the ends.

The soldier's reaction was a mix of acceptance and hesitation. While he didn't outright reject the idea, there was a noticeable lack of enthusiasm in his demeanor. However he didn’t dare reject the idea, worried about any kind of retaliation. So he made his way to the stool nestled beneath the counter and lowered himself onto it. As he settled into position, maintaining a stoic silence, his eyes continued to convey that enigmatic expression, hinting at unspoken thoughts or emotions.

You positioned yourself behind him, your hands instinctively reaching for a comb and a bottle of detangling spray already sat out from your use earlier that day. You recalled how your fingers had encountered numerous knots and tangles when you washed his hair, and thinking about how knotted it looked dirty made you sigh outwardly.

The fine mist of the detangling spray settled on his hair as you applied it methodically, you guided the comb through his locks, working patiently to untangle any knots you encountered. You tried to be as gentle as possible, knowing not only were there a ton of knots, but you remembered his scalp was especially sensitive and sore.

Soldat remained still as a statue, his posture composed and unwavering. His disciplined demeanor allowed you to work unimpeded, your movements careful and unhurried. He maintained a firm grip on the towel draped securely around his body, the fabric acting almost like a barrier and protecting him from the world. You continued to work the comb through his hair, encountering tangles and knots that spoke of recent exertion or neglect.

The process of detangling was slow, your touch continued to be gentle yet purposeful, muttering soft apologies when you ran into an unexpected knot. Teasing apart the snarls with patience and skill, the resistance lessened, and you found yourself able to run the comb smoothly through his hair, the strands falling into neat alignment.

"There we are... much better," you praised softly, your voice barely above a whisper. The sight of his hair, now brushed out and free of tangles, felt like a monumental achievement. You couldn't help but admire how the clean, detangled strands caught the light, a stark contrast to their earlier disheveled state. Your fingers ran through his locks, gently ruffling the hair from being so flat against his scalp.

You couldn't help but notice the angry red lines marring his skin, peeking out from beneath the towel. The blotchy colors on his skin that ranged from purple to blue, it made you frown. Your instincts as a caretaker kicked in, and you found yourself wondering if he would allow you to tend to those wounds. Hesitantly, you reached out, your fingers barely grazing the edge of the towel just wanting to get a better look at them.

In an instant the soldier suddenly sprang to life, standing with such force that the stool he had been perched on skidded across the tile floor, the harsh scraping sound shattering the previous calm. He retreated to the far corner of the bathroom, his body language screaming defensiveness.

His eyes, which had been closed or downcast for most of your interaction, now bore into you with an intensity that made you freeze. They held fear, yes, but also a raw, primal aggression that sent a shiver down your spine. It was the look of a cornered animal, ready to lash out at the slightest provocation.

You immediately backpedaled, not wanting to trigger any aggression from him. "Okay, okay... no wound checks," you reassured as you raised your hands in a gesture of surrender. You took a step back, giving him more space, silently cursing yourself for pushing too far, too fast. The fragile trust you had built over the past few minutes seemed to hang by a thread, you didn’t want to snap the little you had.

Your words had a calming effect on Soldat, who clutched the towel tightly in his fists, ensuring it remained securely wrapped around him. His gaze drifted down to his soiled attire, prompting you to shake your head in disapproval. "No, those definitely need to be washed," you explained, your voice dropping to a thoughtful murmur, "And to be honest, these can hardly be called proper clothes. I'll make sure to get you some suitable ones tomorrow, alright?"

Soldat's eyes met yours once more, his gaze still carrying a hint of coldness and wariness, but he managed a brief, almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgment. You gathered his discarded garments and deposited them into the washing machine, silently hoping that the combination of leather and other materials wouldn't prove too much for the aging appliance. The damn thing had to be ran twice already, you just couldn’t afford to buy a new one right now.

As you busied yourself with setting the appropriate wash cycle, Soldat seized the opportunity to hastily retreat to the room that had been designated as his temporary living space.

He immediately gravitated towards the floor, as he had been the past few days. You hadn't seen him use the bed at all, rather stay cuddled in the corner or inside the small space of the closet. The towel long forgotten and laid splayed out on the floor, he ripped the blankets off the bed in one fluid motion and proceeded to wrap himself up in them, burrowing beneath the layers of fabric for comfort and security. The blankets having replaced the towel's symbolism for safety.

You wished he’d rest on the bed rather than the floor, but you knew better than to try to alter what he was doing. Leave him to be comfortable on his own, that is the best thing to do in this situation. And if Soldat wants to sleep on the floor in a huddle of blankets, then fine.

You approached the doorway, peering inside to see him nestled in a cocoon of blankets. His exhaustion was written on his face, yet there was a noticeable improvement in his appearance. The layer of grime and perspiration that had clung to his skin was now gone, you knew he had to feel somewhat refreshed.

You cautiously stepped into the room and made your way towards him, acutely aware of how his body tensed at your approach. In response to your closer proximity, he burrowed deeper into the thick comforter that enveloped him, seeking refuge from your presence.

A soft, reassuring sound escaped your lips as you placed a water bottle within his reach. As you anticipated, he remained motionless under the comforter, offering no acknowledgment of your thoughtful action. He stayed hidden beneath the layers of fabric, like a child seeking shelter from imaginary monsters lurking in the shadows.

"Get some rest, Soldat..." you whispered gently, your voice barely above a murmur. "I'll be down in the other room if you need anything. Don't hesitate to call for me, even for the smallest thing." With that reassurance, you slowly stood back up and turned to walk out. A faint noise suddenly caught your attention, causing you to pause mid-step.

The gentle rustling of the comforter drew your gaze back towards the floor, curiosity piquing your interest. The soldier cautiously peeked out from under the blanket's edge. His tired, weary eyes met your inquisitive ones, there was a beat of silence.

"Спасибо," the soldier rasped out, his voice meek and slightly hoarse from disuse, but still loud enough for you to hear clearly.

"You're welcome..."

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

Cover images from Pinterest. I do not claim them as my own.

[g0dlyunsub]

stitch me.

you were assigned to negotiate with an unsub keeping a group of females hostage, or so you thought. turns out he has a partner and he’s determined to destroy you, all in front of spencer.

pairing :: spencer x fem!reader

warnings :: lots of physical violence, blood, mentions of murder, knife threats, biting, general criminal minds themes.

word count :: 1.8k

author’s note :: so… this is my first post, like ever. sorry if it’s poorly written, but i’m all for slightly (?) protective reid and just wanted to write about him :3 accompanying song :: savior by novulent

you knew something was more than just off the moment you were violently thrown into the room. the hostages were huddled near the left corner of the room, their eyes locked onto you as their shoulders shook in panic.

but the hostages were all supposed to be women. brunettes. young women in their twenties. so why was there a young man among them? there was no mention of a young man reported missing in the case files or when garcia had compiled the final list of hostages, so who was he?

must’ve been a gap in the reports, you shook your head and tried to get up, but your left cheek met the cold concrete ground once again.

“don’t move, sweetheart.” his knife was positioned at the nape of your throat, and you felt your breaths become more jagged, more erratic.

“listen, i swear i’ll make it up to you i never-“ your breath gets caught in your throat when the blade presses ever so slightly into your skin.

“shut your pretty little mouth. i know who you are, an undercover cop. if you think you’re so smart coming in here without your wire and gun, you should be prepared for the consequences.” he spits the words with a nasty drawl.

you barely have any time to respond as he lifts you up by the back of your shirt and drags you to an adjacent room. he grabs a fistful of your hair and throws you to the ground forcefully.

“all the other girls in there, they’re nothing compared to you. i’ll take my time with you, sweetheart”. he approaches you while cracking his knuckles and waving his knife around menacingly.

“who’s the boy?” your voice comes out with a slight quiver, but you’re determined not to sound scared. the man lets out a bellowing laugh in response, examining his knife in one hand.

“that’s my buddy jack. you cops surely would have done your research, right?” his hand is now gloved around your throat, and you struggle to loosen his grip with your arms.

this killer had a partner sitting right between the hostages and you and your team had completely missed the signs.

but the adrenaline must have kicked in at the right timing, since you manage to knock your head back into his face and quickly swivel to deliver a kick into his shins and bring him to his knees before he has any time to react with his knife. then you strike him unconscious with a swift elbow to his temple.

you barely have any time to recover, however, when a blow hits the back of your head and your world comes spinning down. before your eyelids slowly close, you manage to steal a glance at the perpetrator — the male hostage had knocked you with a bat and was now trying to shake his unconscious partner awake.

when you open your eyes, you can’t move. your arms are tied behind your back, and your legs are tightly trapped behind the legs of the chair with knots of rope. you were in the main room now with all of the other hostages, and the former hostage was on the ground, still trying to shake his partner awake.

“look what you’ve done, you stupid brat. i swear if you’ve killed him i'm going to SLIT YOUR THR-“ the crescendo of his voice halts with the abrupt ring of the telephone hanging on the wall. he huffs and makes his way to the phone, never losing his eye contact with you. you try to wrestle against the ropes, but your efforts are useless and your energy is at an all time low.

it was your team on the other end. they must have figured out that it was a team of two and not just one.

“your stupid cop knocked samuel cold and split his skin open. send me a medic and maybe i won’t kill all of them here”. jack’s tone is agitated, threatening, and also lost. now that his commander wasn’t in charge, he didn’t know what to do with the hostages, let alone you.

you can barely decipher hotch’s words as they filter through the noise of the phone. “release the women, and i’ll send you all the medical attention you need. we’ll make sure samuel gets the stitches.” his voice is level and controlled. you’ve always trusted hotch and you’ve always trusted your team, but you couldn’t help but let a sliver of anxiousness cloud your thoughts.

and oh god, spencer. how would he cope when you were gone? how would he react at the sight of your cold body, drowned in the blood of the other hostages? tears fill your eyes and you make a poor attempt to swallow them back.

just as you think of your boyfriend, you hear his name through the phone.

“we're going to send in doctor spencer reid to have a look at samuel, alright jack? i want you to let the women go first. the sooner you do this, the sooner samuel gets his help”.

no. no, no, no. NO.

you squirm in your seat, trying to divert jack’s attention.

“wait-“ you try to shout, before jack cuts you off: “SHUT UP! this is all your fault!” he rolls his eyes before he turns around. jack’s knuckles had turned white, maintaining a deathly grip on the telephone.

“fine. but the cop stays with me.” he slams the phone before he rushes back to check on samuel.

the women are released one by one, each frantically making their way out, and you can hear cops outside ushering them and retreating.

it’s only a few minutes later when you hear the familiar sounds of the leather shoes make their way inside of the room. it’s spencer, and he has no wire, no gun, no vest. he’s carrying a medical first aid kit and making his way toward samuel, but not before taking a glance at you.

your world collapses, right there and then. he’s made the same mistake you had by entering without his gun and vest, and you had to give him a signal somehow. if luck was on your side, spencer would make it out alive. but you? your chances are slim.

“hurry up and stitch him up. don’t fuckin look at the other cop.” jack points his knife at spencer, and you let out a hitched yelp. please don’t hurt him. hurt me instead.

spencer gets down to work quickly, examining and tending to the wounds on samuel’s face, and he doesn’t look up in your direction once. jack’s watching him the entire time, tapping his left foot in impatience.

“there. he’s all good, samuel just needs some time to recov-“ spencer raises his arms and turns his back against you, and faces jack as he speaks.

“shut- sit on that chair”. jack motions at spencer to sit down on the chair across from you. you shake your head fervently, yelling constant streams of don’t to him. but he obliges.

“put your arms behind your back,” jack orders, and spencer obliges. you make a desperate attempt and kick at jack to try and distract him. but jack only slaps you in the face with his backhand before aiming the knife at spencer. your boyfriend flinches, and his friendly facade is now masked with a deathly glare.

“don’t move.” jack grabs duct tape and moves swiftly to bind spencer’s hands together behind the chair. you hang your head down. it’s over.

“listen, let spence- let him go. it’s just between you and me, your partner said you only need me”. you shakingly drew in a deep breath as you spoke.

jack chuckles before he makes a step toward you. the next thing you know, he’s grabbed you by the hair and he’s delivering punches left and right, hurling screams of expletives and slurs. he’s lost it. and you were going to die.

he positions the knife at your chest, and you know he'll do it. you know he will drive that blade straight to your skin. straight to your heart.

“STOP. STOP! PLEASE!” you hear spencer rocking his chair forwards, and jack finally stops. you can’t breathe with all the blood pooling in your mouth, and you let the excess drawl out of your lips to land on the floor.

“jack, listen to me, please.” spencer looks at you with pleading eyes, silently signaling you to not move. to not agitate jack further.

“no. samuel said he was gonna kill her and i have to finish what he started for him”. jack leans forward and pulls the collar of your shirt outwards, and bites down on your neck. you let out a painful scream, tears running down your face just as more blood leaves the corner of your lips. spencer thrashes in his chair, trying to shift jack’s attention.

“but i stitched him up. samuel will live. let her go. you can take it out on me.” spencer’s voice is desperate, but there’s a tone of controlled execution, because his voice isn’t quivering like before.

at that instant, doors fling open and less than a millisecond later, jack drops to the ground, his knife toppling down to the floor soon after. the team of cops, along with hotch and rossi, make their way toward you and spencer, untying the knots.

between the yells of “we need a medic” and comforting words of “you’re going to be okay” being uttered left and right, you hear spencer’s voice. it’s seemingly amplified for some reason, and you can’t help but smile. your boyfriend rushes towards you, sweeping your hair and cradling you back and forth in his arms.

“you’re so brave, you’re so brave y/n.” his voice comes out stifled and hoarse, and you feel him grip your hand even tighter.

“i’m so sorry i let you go in there alone. i’m so sorry i let him do that to you, torture you and almost-“ his head buried into the crook of your neck, and he lightly kisses you right above the dried cut where jack had attacked you.

you turn your head ever so slightly to get a better look at spencer. tears coat his eyelashes and his mouth shakes as he talks. a soft groan rolls out from the back of your throat, and you snuggle deeper into spencer’s hold.

“keep… talking. i want… to hear… you.” you manage to let out, and spencer’s eyes widen.

“of course. i can do that. i’ll keep talking to you, y/n. focus on my voice, can you do that?” he asks with a slight squeeze to your palm. you give a slow nod in return.

that’s all he needs, because when the medics transfer you into the ambulance, he’s sitting right beside you, not letting go of your hand, and whispering nothing but bittersweet apologies.

his voice is the only stitch you need.

[drurrito]

a/n: untitled beach fic; another shot at writing smut; 18+ only

pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Submissive!Reader

warnings: some degradation; light choking; cursing; dry(?) humping...

----------------

"You haven't looked at me the entire time we've been here, you know?"

The water is suddenly ice-cold and your muscles bunch up into one big knot. You turn to look at Natasha for the first time since you pulled up to the beach and the realization that she would be in nothing but a bikini for the entire day smacked you in the face like a stray frisbee.

"What?" You try to sound offended. Natasha holds your gaze. Your freshly sunscreened face begins to burn. You look back towards the shore where the rest of your friends are tanning, talking, and laughing. Steve chucks a football far enough to make Bucky sprint after it, but he trips over a kid's abandoned sandcastle head-first. You thought you could find reprieve in the water after a few minutes of just staring at your toes in the sand while Sam talked about bar-hopping last night. You watched Natasha follow you into the water the same way a bleeding seal watches a circling shark's fin.

"Haven't I?" You ask, your eyes briefly passing over Natasha's form. She watches you flounder in the water. You're wishing and hoping for a wave to swallow you whole right now.

"I wouldn't have said anything if that were true."

"Right," you run a shaky hand through your hair and collect yourself enough to look Natasha in the eyes once more. She's closer now, your eyes dive into the shrinking space between you and her.

"Did I do something to upset you?"

Your eyes resurface, landing on hers, "no, not at all!"

Natasha moves closer, you fight the urge to look away, you can't let her think you don't like her.

Because you do, you do like her. So much so that you can't focus on her in that bikini for more than mere seconds. Any longer and you just might faint, or melt into the sand, or both.

You're in a staring contest with her now, you're determined to count every speck of amber floating in her deep green eyes and--

Natasha is moving even closer now, this time she goes left--then right--then left again--your eyes track her perfectly, not once straying away from her pupils.

"Huh," she tilts her head in amusement as a small wave swells and rolls through you both before crashing onto shore. You still don't break eye contact, only letting your eyes bounce around the borderlands of her irises.

"You can't look at me, can you?" Natasha smirks and you flinch, finally blinking.

"I'm looking at you right now?"

"At my eyes, yes," another wave rolls by, a bit bigger than the last, "but only my eyes."

You swallow down a wad of nerves. Natasha is a riptide ready to pull you under. You’re thinking about how hard you need to push against the Earth below you to get out of the water as fast as humanly possible.

“I’m just—“

“Being respectful, I know baby,” Natasha cuts you off—you’re too stuck on how easily those words rolled off her tongue to notice that her bare torso is only a hair away from touching yours.

Another wave, even bigger this time, throws Natasha off balance, sending her right into you. Your arms quickly shoot out to catch her while her own arms hook around your neck to steady herself. You’re actually looking at her, scanning her body for anything that can tell you this is just a fluke. Your mind is screaming at you to let her go and bolt but your body betrays you by keeping her close.

By the time you both collided, the water had risen high enough to kiss the space right below your chests. To the rest of the beach, you both basically look floating heads. You admire Natasha’s profile as she looks out towards the beach for a few moments before turning her attention on you. You barely catch the stormy look in her eyes before you’re reminded of her arms around your neck when her nails graze the base of your skull.

“Do I make you nervous?” Her tone is dark now. Your body goes rigid while your mind fumbles around for an answer. You nod, no use in lying now, not when Natasha could probably feel your heart beating against your rib cage since she’s so close.

“Say it.”

“Yes, you make me nervous,” you do a piss-poor job of trying to keep your voice from trembling with want. Natasha’s lips curl into a smile and she chuckles. You start seeing stars.

“Don’t be,” Natasha starts to pull you impossibly closer and you meet her halfway. She only gives you a few seconds to process the fact that she’s kissing you before she slides her thigh between your legs. Your spine feels a chill under the hot sun.

“Do you wanna be good for me?”

You couldn’t look any dopier, nodding with your jaw hanging low.

“Words baby.”

“Yes,” you sound dumber than you look.

“Then start humping.”

You cough like you just swallowed a gallon of saltwater, “what?”

“I know you heard me.”

“Right…right now?” You sputter, frantically looking back towards the beach, “in front of everyone?”

Natasha roughly grabs you by the chin to pull your attention back to her.

“Start. Humping.”

Her hand lowers to clamp around your throat and that makes your knees buckle. Your arms tighten around her waist and your body dips down until you feel her thigh against your core. You let out a surprised grunt and Natasha smirks while she watches you begin to find a rhythm. It feels good, too good to stop. Your eyes flutter and threaten to roll back into your head, your body overwhelmed by how much you want this, how much you wanted to do this for a while.

“You look deliciously pathetic you know that right? Humping my leg for everyone to see,” Natasha mocks as your pace hastens. You rest your forehead on her shoulder to try and keep yourself afloat.

“Fuck,” you hiss, grinding harder and faster against Natasha’s thigh. You’re not even going to chance a look to see if anyone is actually watching you both. The longer this goes on, the less you seem to care anyway. You litter the sun kissed window of her cleavage with sloppy, desperate, open-mouthed kisses. Your hands groping and grabbing at her waist, her thighs, her ass, anything that can help you get a better grip and bring you as close as you can get to her without having to jump into her skin.

“So needy—like you’ve been dreaming about this,” she teases, you blush. Her hand glides from the back of your head to the tip of your chin and lifts it, “look at me.”

You obey without a second thought, a small whimper escaping your lips when you do. 

“That’s it,” she patronizingly coos as her nails dig a little deeper into your jaw, it stings in the best way.

When you finally look around, you realize the water isn’t covering you as much as it was a bit ago.

“Shit, the tide—” your movements start to slow, but there’s no chance you’re stopping.

“Better hurry then,” Natasha’s hand on your jaw moves down to your throat to give it another squeeze, “you want to cum for me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you manage to choke out, your whole body is buzzing.

“Then don’t keep me waiting, or else everyone will get to see what a pitiful fucking sight you are right now.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” you don’t waste another second to quicken the movement of your hips.  Before you know it, your senses are electrified, the pressure against your cunt becomes borderline overwhelming.

“I’m—I’m close—" You stammer against her neck, your hips bucking erratically against her thigh. You feel her laugh rumbling through your lips when you open your eyes and—

“Fuck.”

“Whiny little mutt,” Natasha scoffs.

“No, there’s…there’s a wave coming right at us,” your eyes widen but you don’t stop, you’re too close to give up. You keep going, growing more frenzied as the wave swells to the biggest one you’ve seen since you been here.

You only get moments to appreciate the high you worked so hard to chase before you have to throw yourself and Natasha under the so it doesn’t wipe you out.

You both come up laughing, Natasha pulls you in for a kiss, smiling against each other’s lips.

[81norris]

untouched - max verstappen x reader

pairing : max verstappen x fem!reader warnings : smut, oral (female receiving), dry humping word count : 1k summary : while max is giving you head, his mind is clouded with one thought : will he last long enough or come untouched ? a/n : hi !! this is my first time writing in a veryyy long time, also english isn't my first langage so excuse me if you see any mistake!! but i hope you'll enjoy it !! xoxo bunny

your hands were pulling on his hair, moans and whines were the only things that could be heard in the room.

max had been between your thighs for a while now, lapping and torturing your clit, he seemed more eager than ever before, acting like a starved man.

he had you seeing stars and you could feel the usual knot forming in your stomach, a feeling that max never struggled to make you feel and he indulged himself in this. it would be a lie to say that max didn’t take pride in how good he was able to make you feel with his tongue, mouth and fingers. he knew your body like the back of his hand.

but today, you weren’t the only one feeling the heat rising in your lower body and knowing yourself coming close to a climax.

it wasn’t the first time that max felt himself getting close without being touched, but it was the first time it happened while going down on you.

his hips involuntarily bucked up, his clothed crotch brushing against the mattress and giving him the slightest of friction. of course it wasn’t enough and of course he wanted more, but his whole focus was on you, your pleasure was his priority even if it meant ignoring his own.

your moans were getting louder and louder and his cock was harder than ever in his tight pants but max was determined to make you come before anything else, even tho his mind was clouded with the want of taking off his pants. he needed to release the pressure his clothes had on him.

"oh god max i’m… oh fuck i’m close!"

your words were a melody to his ears mixed with your delicious moans and if he could he would bottle them up to listen to them on repeat. he was sure that he’d never get tired of them, he’d never get tired of you.

and it all suddenly came to him, his eyes widening at the realisation that he was way closer than he thought. he felt his cock twitching in his boxer when he decided to give up. "fuck it" he thought as he positionned himself and begin to slowly roll his hips against the mattress, finally getting the relief he needed so much.

it didn’t take long for him to reach his orgasm which made him back up from your body for a quick second, to catch his breath. he then went right back at it, his hands holding your thighs as close to his head as possible, his fingers were sure to leave marks on your skin in the morning and he loved that.

"don’t stop, i’m coming… please max"

his right hand left your thigh and quickly found your clit, his thumb started massaging the bundle of nerves, making your back arche. then you finally you came, all of the pleasure and the tension washing over your body like a wave.

your thighs were squeezing his head, something he was used to and would never complain about. he made sure his mouth left a trail of kisses along the inside of your thighs before getting up and he stood there for a few seconds, to admire your body, your -still- slightly shaking thighs, your messed up hair and your knuckles who were still white from holding and pulling so much at his hair. you were his most prized trophy, the one that he would never let go of, the one worth everything, every sacrifice.

"fuck… want me to return the favor love ?"

and that is when the man, the second time world champion suddenly felt embarrassed for the first time, in a very long time. max had managed to forget how he painted his briefs white with his cum, how minutes ago he came untouched, just driven by your pretty sounds.

"i uh.. no don’t you worry sweetheart"

you were surprised and kind of taken aback, not used to your long term boyfriend rejecting such an offer. one thing that max never said no to -usually- was head from you and you knew that he loved it. he loved seeing you on your knees in front of him, doing your very best to please him and his refusal kind of worried you.

"oh, is everything okay ?"

he knew he couldn’t hide it no more, especially not to you when you were the one that made him come undone in his tight pants. without touching him you were still the one that got him to climax and that alone showed just how much of an effect you had on him.

"i don’t really know how to say this but i.. yeah i already came"

your eyes widened and a smile formed on your face.

"don’t laugh i’m not joking y/n!"

you couldn’t help but laugh, hiding your smile with your hand. even tho he might not think about it this way, you found that incredibly flattering. making your boyfriend come without even undressing him made something inside of you switch, it gave you a full boost of confidence and you were not about to let that opportunity go.

"ooohh you poor thing, i didn’t even get to touch you yet!"

"sorry baby, i couldn’t control myself, you sounded like an angel.."

fuck, max verstappen knew his way with words. but he wasn’t the only one able to play this type of games.

"if only you knew how angelic you sound, maybe you would let me deal with you tonight.."

as you said that, you got into your knees in front of him and unzipped his pants. max didn’t move, his cock already getting harder at your sight. your eyes looked up at him before pulling his pants down. and here you saw the wet patch on his underwear and licked your lips, the thought of max coming on himself making you squeeze your thighs together.

"y/n please"

"please what?"

you were quick to answer him while slowly pulling his underwear down, finally freeing his cock from his boxer and taking ahold of it. max threw his head back and his hand went to your hair, lightly grasping it.

"please touch me"

"as you wish my love"

max knew he was in for a long night when your lips wrapped around the head of his cock, and god knows how much he was excited about it.

[mncxbe]

Could you write about the bsd boys' (dazai, chuuya and akutagawa) reactions to their fem s/o having an intense orgasm? like, she squirms, moans loudly and throws her head back (bonus points if they kiss her neck when she does)

I got so excited when I saw your request and I loved writing it. Hope you enjoy.

4 a.m

𝑪𝒉𝒖𝒚𝒂, 𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊, 𝑨𝒌𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂, 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: smut♡

°☆○

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊

this man knows your body like the back of his hand and he took his time to learn how to please you

most of the time he takes it slow, making sure you enjoy every second of it

Dazai is a tease; he always denies your orgasms, edging you until your core aches

your pleas and begs only determine him to keep up this act

he prefers to be on top so he can see your expressions; he's so mesmerized by the way your eyes roll back and the way you bite on your lower lip as he finally allows you to cum

The bedroom was filled with the sound of your whimpers.

"Dazai, please I can't take it anymore" you whined, tears starting to cloud your vision. Your boyfriend has been at it for hours now, edging you beyond belief. No matter how much you begged him he just wouldn't let you cum. As for now, he had you on your back, thighs pressed against your chest as he rammed himself into you.

He only only cooed at your words, mischief glimmering in his eyes. "Aww bella. I'm sure you can take a bit more. Would you do that for me?"

You only nodded, earning a grin from the man. "Good girl" he said lowly, flipping you over to your belly. He raised your hips until they were alligned with his cock, one of his hands pressing onto your lower back to keep your curve. When he thrusts into you again, a sharp moan escaped your lips. "There you go, bella. Here's your reward for being so good today"

You could only squirm and babble nonsense into your pillow as he moved in and out of you at a relentless pace. Soon enough, you were getting close to your release, your walls clenching around him. You half expected him to deny your orgasm again but he kept ramming you.

One of his calloused hands grabbed your neck, forcing your head off the sheets. "Gonna cum for me doll?" he uttered between grunts.

"Y-yes 'samu" you replied in a shaky voice. You bit down on your lower lip in attempt to contain your lewd sounds.

He leaned in, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear "Then go ahead". His mouth found the sweet spot right under your ear and he started sucking on your skin.

This was enough to make the knot in your stomach snap. Your legs started to shake as you let out a ragged moan, almost like a cry. Your boyfriend let go of your throat, allowing your head to rest on the pillow again but he kept whispering sweet things into your ear as he worked you through your high. "That's it dear. So tight f' me"

It didn' take long for him to finish too. Even after he pulled our you were still slightly shaking. Dazai carefully placed a hand on your thigh, which gained him a sharp whine.

"N-no more" you managed to utter while trying to regain your breath.

He chuckled, taking in the view before laying next to you again. His arms snaked around your waist pulling you closer.

𝑨𝒌𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂

no because hear me out this man doesn't really know what he's doing

compared to Dazai, he's really unexperienced and although he does his best to learn to how to please you, he lacks the confidence

he can often gets lost in the feeling of your walls wrapped around him, which causes him to pick up the pace

he literally doesn't realize that he made you cum so much until you start shaking under him, moans rolling off your lips

my baby is so confused at first but he quickly regains his composure and keeps thrusting into you.

he definitely wants to see you squirm again

praise him, tell him he's a good boy and he'll literally never stop pleasing you

Akutagawa was on top of you, his hips slapping against yours as Rashomon kept your legs open. The black fabric snaked around your body, sqeezing you in all the right places.

As a result you were a whining mess, mouth slightly agape. You were trying to conceal your fucked out expression but Akutagawa's hand seized your wrist. "Don't you dare hide from me. I wanna see how good I make you feel" he spoke in a sharp voice, his words only making you clench around him even tighter.

"Oh fuck" he cursed, hands grabbing your hips as he pushed himself deeper into you. He picked up the pace, completely focusing on the warmth of your core. He is so pussy drunk, watching as his cock went in and out of your wet folds.

The black fabric tightened around your body - the last drop in this cocktail of pleasure. Your back arched, thighs squeezing the sides of is abdomen. It was only then that his eyes moved to your face and he quite literally froze. With your eyes rolled back, your body was jolting in pleasure. "Please don't stop now, Ryuu" you pleaded, your glossy eyes meeting his. He immediately started moving again, gaining another desperate moan from you.

Soon after he came too but that didn't mean you were done. He used Rashomon to tie your legs together, hooking them over his shoulder as his fingers kneaded the plush of your hips.

"We're not done yet pretty. I wanna see you do that again, alright?" he said as he resumed his movements. It's safe to say you were in for a long night.

𝑪𝒉𝒖𝒚𝒂

Mr fancy hat is a true gentleman who proritizes your pleasure over his own

he prefers to be on top and in control but sometimes he will let you ride him. After all, what's better than receiving some special treatment from their s/o after a hard day at work?

he's quite handsy; loves seeing twitch and squirm under his touch

Chuya couldn't keep his hands to himself. And how could he? When you were riding him so prettily, nails digging into his chest as you tried to find some support; eyes shut tight. He could tell that you were close to your release by the way your movements got sloppier.

He chuckled, cupping your cheek with one of his hands as the other one traced lines along your belly.

"So pretty for me, doll. You like it when you have your way with me? I bet you do."

He thrusted his hips, making you jolt in pleasure. You picked up the pace, rocking your hips faster. Chuya's hand moved to your clit, lazily rubbing circles. "You're doing so well baby. Don't stop now" The words of praise added to the physical pleasure were enough to make you come undone.

You threw your head back, mewling in pleasure. A wave of satisfaction and desire took over your boyfriend as he watched you ride through your high. He pulled you down on him, your bare chest pressed against his and he caressed your figure.

Your body was still sensitive, each touch making you moan lowly into his ear.

Chuya's hands eventually rested on your hips but his lips went straight to your neck, leaving butterly kisses from place to place.

"Good girl. How about I get the bath ready for us?"

You gently nodded and slid off him, arms wrapping around his torso. A smile made its way to your lips "I'd love that. But let's stay like this for a bit."

"As you wish, my love" he replied, giving into your embrace.

[livelaughlovesubs]

do you write for nanami? if you do, i have a req :3

au where hes still with us (sniffles) and being a sorcerer is more of an on-the-side thing, and he's like an overworked office middle class guy whos also a wizard on the lowkey. sometimes he works so much he even forgets his birthday. but you didn't. ohhh no you did not. you're at home patiently waiting for him, and all you want is to spoil him for the night because he deserves it!! he deserves to just be taken care of, given the care he needs, maybe a little overstim in the process, but it's all with good intentions... (right?)

SORRY THIS IS SO LONG OMG 😭😭

anyway...... requesting a sub!nanami x softdom!female!reader with a little overstim <3 (out here exposing my service dom fantasies)

idk if you do emoji anons, but if you do can i be 🎱 anon? tysm!! i love your works and i hope your have a lovely day/night :) <333

So taking care of nanami on his birthday? Consider it done. Also welcome 🎱 anon, I’m happy about all my new anons ^^

Dom!reader x sub!nanami

Warning: blow job (reader giving), teasing, marking - hickeys, fluff, use of pet names

Hands moving across the table, reaching for the dirty porcelain. The sound of plates being stacked could be heard, and you swiftly placed the dishes on the counter. Nanami tried to help, carrying the cake over to the refrigerator, though you stopped him. “Let me do it, it’s your birthday today! You are forbidden from working.” You declared, snatching whatever he was holding away and putting it in its rightful place yourself. “My birthday isn’t that important, just let me help.” He was such a gentleman, but you still stayed stubborn. Today was his birthday, yet he still went to work, he even did overtime. That’s not acceptable, at least now you should lift some burden off his shoulder.

Right, that was your plan. To take care of him, make him feel loved and happy. Also most importantly, not let him do any chores. Even if it doesn’t look like that, he also has to rest. You really adored him which is why you wished he’d take care of himself some more, and have a mesmerising birthday of course. So why did he look so troubled? You told him not to help. Instead of relaxing he looks uncomfortable or awkward. Just sitting there, watching you do it all. Seems like this part failed a little.. then it’s time to move onto the next one.

Still determined to make him enjoy himself, you brought him to your shared bedroom after watching a movie. “Could you please sit down, my dear?” You asked him, while slowly stripping your clothes. Until you were only in your undergarments. In the meantime the Blondie sat down, a slightly hesitant look on his face. He wasn’t sure what to do, since you’ve been taking everything upon yourself the entire time. His hands wandered to his belt, gaze never leaving your body. Before he could get rid of his belt, he felt your hands on top of his, stopping him gently. “Leave it all to me, alright?”

Nanami felt really embarrassed now. What was he, a kid? Why would he need help undressing himself? Despite his inner turmoil, he still let you do whatever you wanted. It looked like you planned all of this just for him, thus he’ll try to play along. The last thing he’d want is to inconvenient you. Slowly you pulled his belt out, then your fingers wandered up to his collar. He felt a slight tug as you pulled on his tie, untying the knot. Then you gently, and carefully unbuttoned his deep blue shirt. You were only focused on him, and nothing else, pupils glancing at his face every now and then. A smile spread across your features when you saw him furrowing his brows. “You can take off those glasses now.” You whispered, one hand reaching for his cheeks, caressing him while the other still held his dress shirt. His own hand moved upwards and took them off, placing them on the nightstand.

“Such beautiful eyes, don’t hide them from me all the time, hehe.” “I’m not hiding anything from you.” You sure hoped that was the case, considering how he thinks most of the stuff happening at work isn’t worth mentioning. Now that that was out of the picture, you resumed your previous antics, opening one button after another. Soon it revealed his muscular body, and you couldn’t help but stare. You have always loved everything about him, from the head to toes. Yet right now you were sure his torso was your favourite. How beautiful his skin was, as well as the little, barely visible scars from battles; or his firm chest with those cute nipples.

You moved your face closer to his, hands on his pecs now as you kissed him, locking your lips with his. His lips were soft and you were like in a trance when you kissed him. Before he got to enjoy it you pulled back, grinning from ear to ear. It was way too short for him, but he didn’t complain, he could never get mad at you. Afterwards you started kissing his neck. So carefully and tender, that it felt like a feather brushing over his skin, it was almost ticklish. His breath sharpened by a notch when you started groping his chest, squeezing that place with your fingers. In between kisses and smooches, you made sure to whisper into his ear, showering him with compliments. “I’m so glad to have you, my handsome and beautiful boy.” This continued for a bit, and soon his entire collarbone area was covered by red spots. Some hickeys were on his torso too. “You look gorgeous right now.” you commented on those trails of marks you left behind, before fumbling with the zipper of his pants.

You didn’t strip him entirely naked, only enough that you get to touch him wherever. Pulling his pants and underwear down a little to free his cock. He groaned a little when you wrapped your hand around his shaft, rubbing the part that is connected to his pelvis. “Y/n, darling.. don’t tease today.” Immediately your attention wandered to him again, shushing him with your finger as you said, “don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything, I’ll make you feel good today.” A light chuckle, then you played with his tip. The adoration you had for him was genuine, and visible in your eyes.

The way you looked so confident and eager to make him feel good was so adorable in his eyes, and he just can’t help himself but fall even more. Sighting a little before it turned into a breathy moan, “uhh,..huh.” Your delicate fingers were touching all the right places, and soon he was fully erect. One of his hands was clutching the sheets, while the other reached out to your hair, stroking it gently. This surprised you a little, but it wasn’t too bad so you let him be. Then you moved lower, until your lips were inches away from his dick. You let your saliva drool down, afterwards you licked his tip as a tease. “Hmm- i told you not to tease.” “Oh? Guess i forgot that then~” an adorable giggle followed, coming from you. He was truly lucky to have you here with him.

While he was still admiring the relationship you two have build, you took him into your mouth and sucked. Trying your best to avoid any teeth and using your tongue to roll it over his tip. “Ughh- haa..” his grip on your hair tightened. Normally you’d push his hand away, though today was a special occasion. Sweet moans and the occasional gasp spilled from his lips, eyes now clenched shut. Sometimes he’d bite his bottom lip too, to try and keep his voice down. You just continued taking more of him, using your hand to jerk off the rest that didn’t fit. “Darling.” He called out to you, but stopped mid sentence to compose himself. It was getting harder and harder to speak, or to think.

He could feel every fever of his being pulsing, his heart pounding like crazy. The blood rushed to his face and abdomen, making the rest of his limps go numb. Strength was leaving his legs and arms slowly, all while more and more pleasure flourished within him. How his body convulsed every time you licked his tip, or when the inside of your mouth clenched down on him. It felt warm and soft, so good he could feel himself getting closer to the edge.

“Ahh.. keep going, just like that.. please.” Finally he finished his sentence, pleading with you with a meek voice. You didn’t plan on stopping anyway, instead you wanted to make him beg you to stop at the end of this session. Smirking to yourself as you kept doing your own thing, enjoying the noises he’d make. Did it really feel that good? Was what you would have liked to ask, but this is fine too. As long as your lovely boyfriend looks ecstatic and full of bliss, you were content too. Out of nowhere his grip righted by a lot, enough to make it hurt for you. He mumbled apologies while saying, “ah.. I’m clo-close.. haa, sorry., darling…”

What a lucky boy. If today was any other day you would have punished him. Fine, guess you were going to be especially merciful with him. You didn’t mind the slight sting his tug brought you, mouth and hands still working on bringing him over the edge. He let go of your hair in the last minute and clasped it over his mouth. A silent moan left him, then a repressed groan followed. “Nghhnmmm…!! Ahhh..ugh..” his voice was beautiful, you could listen to him all day. Even though his hand wasn’t in your hair anymore, you still didn’t move away. Letting him cum in your mouth, before you finally moved back. When your lips left his dick you made a wet slurping sound, then swallowed everything he offered to you. “Delicious~” you smiled innocently as if you didn’t just make him see heaven.

Suddenly he moved closer to you, sitting up and hands grabbing your cheeks now. “Nanami? Is something?” You wondered, but that curiosity soon got replaced by shock and a joyful feeling you haven’t felt for a while. He kissed your forehead, cupping your face with his hands as he whispered, “I’m glad i can spend my birthday with you.” All while smiling so tenderly, with a calmness and warmth that was unfamiliar to you. Only sometimes he’d get emotional enough to be like this, and whenever he did, you couldn’t help but fall in love with him all over again. “Happy birthday, nanami.”

[ladybirdswritings]

Pretty Thing - Cooper Howard (Ghoul) x Reader

Summary: You're a shiny, pretty prize worth more caps than can be counted on ten hands altogether. There's something special about you, and the Ghoul is determined to figure out just what it is.

Notes: Part threeee :) Lmk if u love this and I'll write more (feel free to leave me lots of comments and interactions, they motivate me!!)

last chap | A03 | masterlist

part 3

Ache.

Vicious and prominent throughout each and every bone and dip within your body.

Horrible, familiar ache.

The sun was blinding, scorching redness onto your skin like ripe cherry tomatoes.

A few soft, scattered blinks and your gaze parted to white. Squinting amongst the hazy glow, the silhouette of an old, brimmed hat and a noseless shadow centered.

It was him.

“Mornin’ sweetheart.”

Your back was stiff, pressed against the decayed, withered roots of an old weeping willow. Your body was postured straight, tied tight by ropes you wanted to scratch at with haste if you could.

It took you a few more blinks, a few more moments past the confusion to remember just about everything that had transpired.

The experiments, the cage, the brunette and the Ghoul. The same Ghoul who was chewing on rotted straw with dark, curious eyes admiring his rope-work, running up and down your pallid figure.

Your heart rate sped then. You didn’t much like being contained— and it seemed as though you had only been traded from one cage to another.

You gon’ make me lots of money…

His distant words pounded against your skull in an infinite echo, swelling at your brain like a bee sting.

It all settled, then.

Your eyes widened, breaths more labored now as you struggled against the ropes with the very small amount of strength you had gained from your slumber. It wasn’t much.

He only watched you for a moment with a rather unimpressed expression on his mangled face. But then he smirked.

“Don’t get too rowdy now, sweetie. I won’t hesitate to tighten them ropes.”

The ropes cut into your purpled skin the more you fought against them. They were knotted in more places than you could count. Effortlessly crafted to keep you.

Keep…

“Where are my keepers?”

God…

Your voice was an awful rasp. A horrible, guttural sound. You didn’t recognize it. Then again, you didn’t recognize anything about yourself.

Your question, too. What a silly thing to ask. As if you’d prefer being with them instead.

The horrid creature, the place where his brows would be lifted in surprise. He took his time, his sweetened— honeyed time getting up. Swinging a leg round the scraps he sat upon and lifting to tower over everything in sight. A chill met your spine, acquainted with it.

He was silent, silent as his boots crunched against the bloodied ground. Closer and closer, even closer and never once did his eyes fall from your face.

“Oh… don’t tell me you miss em’ now, darlin’. Yous a masochist behind all them chains and ropes, pretty thing? Hmm?”

He smelled of bitterness and smoke, invasive and poisonous. It didn’t take him long to be a mere step before you— but he invaded it. Your breath left your lips, you poor— confused thing. You were in disarray as you turned your head so to escape him.

That wasn’t allowed.

His hand was a rough, unpleasant thing. Torn up and stitched together by frayed threads. It was foreign yet warm against your chin as he roughly redirected your gaze to him again. Demanding your attention. He hummed in dark approval when you lifted your wide eyes to find his.

“Hope not. They took all that meat off them bones o’ yours. We gon’ have to sweeten you up again, ain’t we?”

He was suffocating you. Every fiber of you. So close now that his breath was kissing your cheek.

Your gaze narrowed, jaw blooming with tension-coiled poppies.

“I could kill you.” You practically spat and God— how right you were.

You didn’t know the how or the why, the reason or the answers. No, you didn’t know any of that at all. What you did know, however, was that whatever fueled the crimson laced in your palms was enough to bring any ghoul to their knees. He could be no different.

And yet?

He laughed. A raspy, weak sound. Golden teeth on full display. Your head fell into a tilt of confusion, he followed it— huffing out a breath when he was done getting a kick from your words.

“Oh I know, sweetie. I know. But do you?”

But do you…

Three simple words forming a question that brought more fear to you than any ropes or chains ever could. You couldn’t remember. That was just the problem.

The sound of sharp metal scraping against worn leather made your wide eyes dart toward his free hand. The mangled Ghoul lifted a shined, silvered blade from his holster and pointed it right to the most vulnerable place at your neck.

You gulped, lips parting as your chest rose and fell. The cruel creature… he was teasing you, and he was enjoying it. There was mischief lit up like golden globes in his eyes, a soft and sadistic kind of smirk just ghosted on his lips. He scraped the blade against your soft skin, dragging it from your collarbone, up to your jugular, then right to your chin— all the while following the dangerous path with his eyes.

He could have sunk the blade in. Ended it. Turned in your body for far too many caps to count but… he didn’t. No… instead he brought the blade to the same ropes he caged you with and he set you free.

Your body was a home for every pin and needle in existence to dwell. Soon as your ropes fell to the dilapidated ground, you fell with them. On your hands and knees before his scruffy boots.

He stood there like that for a moment, looking down at you kneeled at his feet. Perhaps he was waiting to see if you’d run. You didn’t. Not because you didn’t want to but rather because you were afraid.

Afraid and confused.

Your eyes darted to your surroundings and every single inch of them was unfamiliar. How would you survive?

When the Ghoul was certain you were staying put, he parted from you; walking slow back to his seat of scraps as he ruffled some papers away from his coat.

With a clear of his throat, he began…

“Y/N Y/L/N. Age? Unknown. Species? Radioactive superhuman. Now ain’t that some wild shit, darlin’? You. Little ol’ you and you ain’t the least bit scarred or mangled, huh?”

You blinked, his words only a blur of nonsense you couldn’t quite break apart enough to be coherent. You cautiously lifted your head, gaze settling in on him again. He sat proudly, satisfied with all this. Right ankle rested atop left knee and stained paper gripped in ancient hands.

He looked on at you once, satisfied to know he had earned your attention again. With a deeper smirk now, he continued louder.

“Subject can absorb harmful radiation n’ process it to gain sustenance. Oo’ wee… n’ there’s more. Y/L/N possesses the innate ability to manipulate any form of power er energy and project it from her very hands— my my. Look at you. A god damn X-Man, ain’t you?”

His words, though understood in your conscious mind, you didn’t understand the importance of them. All you knew to be true was that people were afraid. Horrified.

Yet not him.

Not him…

Your breath left you, exhausted by the heat and position, and you bowed your head again. He silently skimmed through whatever else was printed on that precious page, and when he was satisfied? He tossed it aside and focused his attention back on you.

“Now I had thought that I was real damn lucky to have found you, you little money maker. But no, oh no darlin’— that just ain’t true. See, I ain’t got no use for ya’ if you kill me fore’ I get my payout. N’ you can— kill me. Ain’t a fool to admit it. You ain’t like me, you ain’t like vaultie or any of those tin soldiers. Nah, yous real special. Different. I thought bout’ dumpin’ you when I read this ol’ thing but damn it, sweetie… I must have a lil’ thing for strays.”

His tangent was laced with only parts you could keep up with. You were worth something, but he was unlucky to have you. He had a thing for strays, but he was set to dump you. You weren’t like him, but he too was a monster.

“You’re awfully contradictory…” it left your lips far before you could stop it, moving to sit or rather slump back against the tree as you spoke. Your ribs poked against your skin.

“Mm.” Is all he offered, staring on at you for a few more painfully long moments before he lifted again. He was even slower now, even more cautious in his approach. Towered before you and shifting so to squat— eye to eye you were again.

“See truth be told, sweetie, s’ you that needs me. Even exchange, really. Gon’ use you for all you’re worth, and you gon’ be fed real well. Ain’t gonna be held by no chains or rope. N’ I’ll teach you how to really, truly hurt a man enough to keep m’ down— understand?”

He wanted to help you…?

You didn’t have much experience at all with being, well, alive. That you remembered, at least. Living truly, not just breathing. Even so, if you searched hard enough beneath the surface of his words, you understood them. He needed you for your powers, as everyone else seemed to, and as a courtesy in return? He’d teach you all the things your keepers wouldn’t dare to, all the things orbiting planet freedom.

He was a stranger.

Then again… everyone was.

Your silence, your unspoken dilemma confined in your aching mind— it was enough to provoke his voice again.

“You can go on n’ run into that city, you know. Oh I ain’t gon’ stop you, pretty thing. No I ain’t. You know what will, though?”

Your gaze became a glare, and yet he was expectant.

“Go on, ask me.”

You didn’t quite follow, and yet if one thing was clear in your gaze and your consciousness? It was him… his commands.

“What?” Is but all you whispered, and it satisfied the mangled man enough to make him sigh.

The same awful, torn up hand that had lifted you into his arms. The same hand that had tied you hostage with rope and flipped through your dilapidated file, that same hand, it lifted once more so to brush away the hair sticking against your dampened forehead. You shivered at the sensation.

Gentle… the most gentle you’d ever felt in your entire consciousness; and from a Ghoul.

His eyes glazed over you like jam to buttered scone and with a twitch of his jaw and a tilt of his skull, he gave you the answer you were silently seeking…

“You will…”

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

(Day 2) Gotta be a moron to wanna be a fighter

Pairing: König x Reader

Summary: You’re determined to find out why everyone thinks König is so scary, afterall he’s just some guy that’s taller than most people right? He’s probably harmless! Well, he’s a little scary, but you still like him anyway.

(No use of y/n or mention of gender/race)

Warning: Smut, Penetration (no mention of reader genitals so could feasibly be PiV or Anal depending on what you rather), lube, pinning down, dirty talk

AN: So some of you have waited a loooong ass time for this, so sorry about that, but it takes a while to do sex scenes, what can I say 👀 for those of you coming across this now or not in the loop, this is basically just a smut chapter for rocky start because I know some of you don’t read it for the smut and just like fluff. So if you do not like smut do not feel you have to read this to be caught up, there is very little plot going on and you will miss basically nothing - it’s just a catch up on what happened day 2 at the hotel! For those of you like me who love a little spice, I hope you enjoy this, I for one loved writing it 😈💕

Part 5.5 of A Rocky Start - Full Masterlist Here

-☠️-

After drinking to a point that you were barely speaking English, it should hardly have been a surprise when you’d woken up the next day with a raging hangover. You’d unpasted your eyes, rubbing them with the backs of your hands, and rose up from the sheets slowly, blinking harshly. Surprisingly there were no visible clouds when you’d breathed out, though you still wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the goosebumps rise up like an allergy to the hopeless cold.

“Oh, so you’ve decided to wake up then?” 

You startled a little as the deep voice sounded out and frowned when you looked to your side - the side where König lay with his head propped on his arm and his phone in his other hand. Ugh. You groaned and flopped down on the bed beside him, rubbing your head and feeling thoroughly sorry for yourself. It was as if tiny knives were being driven into your brain by little shrieking demons. 

“Wish I hadn’t, I feel like shit,” you mumbled, ramming the heels of your hands into your eyes. “And why is it so cold in here?”

Your headache was no joke - it was piercing through your skull like a dull drill. To add insult to injury, König laughed at you loudly, the sound only compounding with the thudding pain. He watched on as you opened your eyes again, only to glare over at him in your most pathetic attempt at a show of anger. 

“Well that’s what happens when you drink. And, just so you know, you don’t need to make excuses to cuddle with me anymore, Sneaky.”

“I’m not making excuses, I’m practically getting frostbitten out here,” you huffed, crawling your way over to him. 

“Is that so? Well, let me see what I can do about that,” he smiled, ushering you over. 

You burrowed into him, wrapping your arms around his sides and shoving your head into the middle of his chest, sighing like a displeased dog. It helped - unsurprisingly. König was like your own personal hot water bottle, his body alone was enough to abate the jittering in your limbs just by reaching out and running his hands across your arms. The petting and the cooing helped as well of course. 

“I assume you’re very hungover then?”

You grunted at him. 

“Oh dear. What are we going to do with you? Shall we get you a cold shower and get you outside and into the light?”

“Be gentle with me,” you pleaded, already horrified at the thought of having to go out. 

“Poor little Sneaky. Are you out of commission today?”

“Not for the whole day…just for now,” you said with a grimace, nuzzling into him further. 

“Alright then, you can have a moment to adjust.”

He sighed and indulged you for a few minutes more, gently tracing patterns into the back of your shirt. You hummed as he created looping shapes around your body and occasionally rubbed the knots out of your back, feeling as if you were being smoothed down into caramel. Your breaths came out slower and little by little your eyes sunk closed. Though just as you’d started to fall back asleep you were jolted awake with the gentle brush of his fingers teasing against your sides.

“Hey! Don’t you start that,” you growled.

“Start what?” König asked innocently. 

“You know what! Don’t you dare tickle me.”

“Or what?” he asked, tilting his head at you with a condescending smile. 

“Or I'll kick your ass.”

“You’ll ‘kick my ass’? Really?”

“Don’t test me,” you said weakly, breaking out into a yawn before you could help it.

He laughed at you till his body shook and the sound rattled around your aching skull. It disturbed your peace till you groaned, rolling off of him and over to the other side of the bed. The sheets were frosty cold, though for a split second, you were able to kid yourself into thinking you’d settle and get some more rest. 

“You’re not very convincing. Maybe they should’ve called you Sleepy,” König noted, rolling you flat on your back. 

He loomed over you, casting a shadow over your field of vision. His hands rested either side of you and disturbed the bed, rolling you ever so slightly as his weight shifted. It was like being in bed with a big cat. 

“If I let you call me Sleepy, will you leave me alone?” you asked, rubbing the last of the tiredness from your eyes. 

He pretended to think about it for a moment, his eyelashes and messy strands of hair catching odd rays of light from the lacy curtains. He shone for a moment, encased in the glistening rays before he leaned forward into the dark shadows that swallowed your side of the bed. The look of pensiveness washed from his face in an instant, resculpted into a ruthless smile. 

“No, I think that you should stop being lazy and get up,” he concluded. “I’ve been lying here all morning wasting away, waiting for you. Look at me, I’m practically skin and bones.”

“Skin and bones? Are you sure?”

You softly ran your fingers against his arms as if to check if he was telling the truth and delighted in hearing the sharp intake of breath followed by his hissed complaint about your cold hands. Sweet revenge. Giving into the sinister smile that worked it’s way over your face, you then attempted to bop his nose, taking it a step further. Though that was barely a thought before your hands were pinned down above your head. Your two hands were snatched from you and captured in his one while the other steadied his shaking frame above you.  

“No fair,” you pouted, trying to weakly wriggle out of his grasp.

He was far more awake than you, his body was ready to strike. Meanwhile you still felt heavy and overburdened with your recent stroke of consciousness. No match for him. Though you’d begun to doubt if you were any match for him at all in any circumstances as you came to realise that his grip was an iron shackle around you. 

“You making me go hungry isn’t fair either,” he chastised, voice rumbling and deep. 

You sucked in a breath and desperatley tried not to let it show how deeply his voice affected every inch of you. The low growl combined with the way he held you was awakening something within you, though you weren’t feeling reciprocal of the hunger he seemed to be talking about. It was enough to make you forget all about the pulsing in your head and drove you to baser instincts, your cheeks heating and your heart pounding. 

“What’re you hungry for?” you asked, blinking slowly up at him. 

You’d hoped to entice him. Coyly biting your lip and dropping your voice, trying to charm his body to slope even further into yours and take what he wanted, do what you desired.

“You want know what I’m hungry for?” He asked, voice whispering and soft.

“What?” you breathed.

“Two bacon rolls at the very least, and some fruit and- oh stop your groaning. I have needs!”

You’d lost that round. 

-☠️-

König - despite ruining your fun - wasn’t a complete taskmaster. He let you slowly meander over to the bathroom and even had the decency to avoid complaining too much when it took you almost an hour to emerge from your room and meet him in the hallway. You’d milked every little second that you could to move at a snail's pace and sit at every opportunity that presented itself. 

However, you’d practically had to hold your jaw in place when you finally saw him again. He’d taken a shower as well, and was standing there with his damp fluffy hair and aged Rammstein shirt as if there wasn’t an arctic chill blasting its way through the old hotel. It was ridiculous, that’s what you tried to tell yourself, tried to let that dominate your assessment of him - but nothing could stop you finding him ridiculously hot. The thought of jumping over to him and convincing him against breakfast was only stopped when he took you by surprise and grabbed your hand leading you to the stairway. 

“C’mon, or everything will be shut before we make it outside,” he’d urged, making a point to speed up his pace.

You were still taking in his appearance and controlling your rogue urges to stroke his hair and run your hands over his weather hardened body. His muscles were strained and taught and, even when you’d tried to mention that you could go back for his jacket, he’d still insisted that getting to a food source was more important. He only had one thing on his mind, and it wasn’t going to be overridden by the weather or any of the urges you had. 

He was nothing if not persistent - something that you were grateful for every time you got the opportunity to lean into him. Smelling the fresh citrusy body wash he’d used while you caressed his arm, you dazedly walked beside him and let him take you to breakfast, nothing more than a passenger along for his ride. A ride that you could hardly complain about, he let you cuddle into him in the booth at breakfast and wrapped his arm around you while you’d waited for food to come. Your cure.

It was important that you’d gotten a good breakfast and fixed yourself up, it prepared you for your mission ahead - sneaking snacks into the hotel without the old bat at reception seeing. Even after a feast fit for several kings, König was still peckish and you’d bought a whole bagful of chocolate and pringles and cookies to ensure you’d avoid being dragged out again. After all, you didn’t want any interruptions to your movie day.

“Happy now?” König asked, stroking your cheek.

You’d gone to your room first and he’d thrown your bag of goods up to you through the window. That was how you’d found yourselves wrapped up and back in your bed again, occasionally munching on snacks while nuzzling into him. Rocky 2 played quietly from your tablet, propped carefully on the flimsy bed stand and served as a nice lazy day movie to cuddle up to. König’s body was nice and soft, and now that you weren’t drunk or hungover you could fully appreciate every contour and soft muscle as he flexed and shifted with his ever present restlessness. 

“Very happy actually,” you hummed contentedly.

“Good,” he murmured. 

You sighed and watched the movie for a little longer before you’d begun to get distracted. Your eyes had strayed from the screen and onto König’s face. Sharp ridges and little scars were catching your gaze, his sparkling eyes were fixed on the screen, reflecting the moving figures. They hadn’t caught onto your staring yet, which you’d realised all too late was getting a little too gratuitous, so you quickly cast your gaze down toward his T-shirt. 

It felt like your head had been filled with cotton. Your hand snaked out and dragged over to the centre of his chest where the fading chunky white letters on his T-shirt were burning holes into your vision - forcing you to mindlessly trace them. You were simpering away while you did it, obsessing over the thought of kissing him. It wasn’t like it’d be the first time, but for some reason you felt too shy to just do it. Perhaps because the only times you’d done it before the moment had been right for it, filled with passion.

This was a different situation entirely. This felt almost…domestic? The air was calm and there was no pulsing static and roaring flames crying passion, you were just lounging in bed together like a long established couple, cosily intertwined. Would it be ok? Would he want you to kiss him out of the blue? 

“What are you thinking about?”

You jolted and hazarded a quick look back up at his face, not missing his sly smile. Mind Reader. You bit your lip and finished your ridgid path across the soft second M of Rammstein, shrugging. 

“Tell me,” he urged, pinching your hip. 

“Not if you do that again,” you laughed, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“Alright...tell me then.”

“You have to promise not to laugh.”

“I promise I’ll try not to,” he said seriously, smiling when your eyes slitted further. 

You held eye contact for a moment longer, but soon chickened out when you finally decided to tell him what you’d been thinking about. You hoped he wouldn’t think you were being silly for getting all shy about something you’d already done before, as if you weren’t cuddled up to him bed and stroking his chest with no issue. 

“I wanna kiss you,” you mumbled.

He was quiet for a second before he exhaled, the rush of his breath coming down warm on your cheeks. 

“Why would I laugh about that?”

You looked back up at him and shrugged again, feeling a nervous grin tug at your lips. Even knowing who he was, knowing so many of his habits and flaws and humanity, there was something so intimidating and untouchable about him. No matter what you’d done before.  

“Because I was too shy to just do it,” you explained, cheeks heating to boiling temperature. “I’m getting all silly and in my head about it.”

“It's cute that you’re so shy all of a sudden,” he rumbled. “But I hope you know that you can kiss me whenever you’d like.”

Your lip was getting sensitive now, teeth grazing harshly against your swelling flesh. Chills stole their way through your back and sent your limbs shaky as you crawled up to meet his face. Suddenly the room felt like it was a hundred different temperatures all at once. 

“Thought we weren’t allowed to use the word cute,” you challenged. 

“Only when it’s directed at me.”

You rolled your eyes. He tsked at you - your only warning before he quickly rolled you both over and held you down with the weight of his body. His lower half completely secured  you to the shrieking mattress while his arms flanked your sides, a firm reminder that you weren’t going anywhere. It had you swallowing a difficult breath and shifting your legs, adjusting to the tingles that were coursing through your body. 

“I don’t think you like me being cute all that much really... I think really you like it better when I’m like this,” he said, his sultry voice like smooth honey to your ears. “Whenever I have you under me, you always look like you’re trying to hold yourself back.”

Freezing temperatures be damned, you were practically sweating through the sheets listening to his voice drop so low. Your eyes felt too full as you took him in, eyelids drooping to compensate for your blown out pupils. You could feel your lashes dancing across your skin like flustered butterflies.

König watched as you adjusted your hands, eyes flicking and following your movements like a hunter. You pushed yourself up and weakly rose, wrapping your arms around his tensing back and pressing your fingers into the bobbling old fabric of his Shirt. That had to go, you thought. This was going to be so much more than a simple kiss, you’d decided, you were ready. 

“You’re right. Definitely like this,” you whispered. 

With a newly discovered confidence, you met his lips and kissed him deeply. Your head pulsed and throbbed as stars burst across the darkness and pierced through the veil of your eyelids like a firework show. Your chest felt like it was being crushed as you melted against him, the pressure too much, your combined heartbeats creating a frenzy. His mouth was so perfect and his tongue twisting around yours was driving you wild, it had you moaning, a sirens call pervading the room. 

The moment lasted as if a spell were cast. As if you were both trapped in time and held close forever in your kiss, melted within an abstract portrait of impossible feelings and highs. Mind scrabbling, you slowly lay back, breaking the kiss and let your hands wander to his sides, coming to the hem of his T-shirt and lifting it slightly, stroking the soft flesh underneath. 

“What are you doing?”

Hearing König’s voice snapped you out of your stupor and you giggled, pursing your lips like you’d done something bad. You’d certainly thought of bad things, even if you were only trying to lift his shirt…

“Want to feel you,” you mumbled.

“Oh…I see,” he murmured, quirking his lips and perching his head onto his hand. 

He rolled to his side and shifted his weight  onto the arm that now dug into the bed beside you, tipping you closer toward him. It was just another reminder of how much of him there was, the sheer size of him. You wanted him so bad, it was the only thought you were capable of thinking as you scrambled to sit up and meet his gaze. 

“I need more.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you repeated dazedly. 

“Are you sure?” He asked, voice a little more tentative.

“What do you mean, am I sure?” you giggled, body screaming out for him to get back to work. “Of course I’m sure! Are you sure?”

He licked his lips and looked off to the side for a moment, as if some cue cards might appear over by the window. Rocky continued to play in the background - the scene where he goes to the press conference and Creed tears into him. You let out a little exhale of laughter when you hear Stallone talking about snowcones and it draws König’s attention squarely back to you. His eyes are unreadable tomes, he looks like he could be about to say anything which has you holding your breath and unwittingly freezing in place.

“Don’t get me wrong, I want this more than anything but…most of the time whenever I do this- uh, whenever I’ve been with people, they’ve…not been people I’ve really known or cared about, but I really care about you. I don’t want to rush things or do something wrong, you know?”

He barely breathed as he made his confession, his face filled with consternation all the way from his pursing lips to the bob of his adam’s apple. Despite that though, a flood of relief washed through you. He wasn’t pausing because he didn’t want you, he was just getting in his head about things too. Rightfully so, when you knew that deep beneath the cool hard exterior, König had a lot of anxieties buried underneath it all, spackled behind thick walls. 

You weren’t sure of the extent of his insecurities, but you knew that you wanted to help to break down those walls in any way you could. With that in mind, you cupped your hand on his cheek and stroked it with your thumb, grazing it along the golden line of his stubble while you looked at him straight in his searching eyes. 

“König, I really do want to do this with you and I don’t think you’d do anything that I didn’t want. I can’t even begin to tell you the amount of time I’ve spent thinking about this without sounding like a creep,” you laughed, watching as he dropped his tensed shoulders and seemed to shed his anxiety like a robe. “I’ve wanted this for so long, but especially when you showed up at that bar and finally showed me your face and your arms, I just-”

You trailed off and withdrew from him, suddenly getting self conscious as you realised you were about to vomit out your fantasies to him. It seemed like a good idea when you’d started speaking and then all too quickly you realised how embarrassing it was to say what you were going to say. Though, unluckily for you he wasn’t letting you off easy. 

“What do you think about my arms?” he laughed, face finally relaxing into an easy smile again. 

“I think that they’re nice,” you said weakly, throat drying like the sahara. 

“Oh yeah? What is it about them that’s nice?” he asked with a glint in his eye. 

“I um…oh god,” you laughed, taking your turn to look away. 

He laughed in turn, but instead of letting you have your moment with the invisible sitcom audience, he turned your face with his hand and stared you down with renewed purpose. Suddenly the simmering flame had been brought back to boil and you were feeling your heart begin to stutter again. 

“I want to know what you like, I want to give you everything you want,” he pleaded, making your legs go shaky. “I need you to tell me all those thoughts you’ve been thinking about me so that I can make you feel good.”

You could’ve passed away and gone to heaven there and then. His voice was so soft, but there was no mistaking the urgency in it. He was tense, filled with kinetic energy that was bursting to release, you could see it in the way he just barely shook, heart thrumming in his chest, could feel it crackling in the air around you. 

“I like to think about you pinning me underneath you…like you were doing before.”

“Oh yeah?” he urged, shifting so that he could assume his position. “And what else? Tell me.”

You took a raspy breath and continued staring up at him while your body lay prone. 

“I want you to take control, I want you to hold me…and grab me,” you breathed, utterly possessed by the idea you could make your fantasies come true. “I want you to kiss me again, König.”

His eyes were so dark, he looked feral. His jaw twitched as he listened to you and just before his lips were colliding with yours again, you took a moment to admire the way you’d undone him. Tracking the way his gaze raked over you, you widened your eyes as his hands gripped the sheets like they were the reins to a bucking stallion. You rose from the bed and met him, tongue darting out to his once more. 

König leaned over a little more, his knees dropping so that his body lowered over you, securing you in your position. You could feel barely a portion of his chest on you, but still it was like having a bear act as your weighted blanket. Though even then, his kiss was never too forceful. His lips synced with yours in a perfect harmony and his hands brushed up your arms and traced the curve of your neck in a feathery caress. 

“You’re like heaven,” König hummed.

You tipped your head back and moaned in turn as he pressed a kiss to your cheek then continued to trail them from your jaw, down your neck and grabbed your shirt, tugging it aside so he could kiss your collarbone. He lit little fires with every kiss, his breath tickling your flesh and setting off a flare of goosebumps. Your breaths were coming out whiny, filling the room like restless spirits.

“König, more…take it off please…”

You were begging, voice overflowing with desperation as you clawed at the hem of his shirt again. He laughed softly, but König must have been feeling benevolent because he didn’t make you wait much longer. He pushed himself up into a kneeling position and towered over you, pulling his shirt up over his head like a parachute and abandoning it behind him. 

“Is that better?” he asked innocently.

You held your breath for a moment and felt your eyes almost vibrate as you drank him in. Even though you’d been cuddled up with him for a good portion of the day, you were still in disbelief when you finally saw what he looked like underneath the shirt. You were forced to bite your lips so as not to squeal. He was the kind of man that inspired statues, from the defined pecs and abs to his soft belly, he was beautiful. 

“How do you look so fucking good?” you groaned.

He snorted at that and shook his head.

“You overreact everytime you see more of me. Are you going to faint if I take my trousers off?”

“I wouldn’t rule that out,” you squeaked, not even beginning to imagine how you’d cope.

He rolled his eyes at you, not losing his smile for a second. Secretly, he was loving the attention, loving how much you fell for every inch of him. The moan that he let out when you ran your hand down his sternum spurred you on, showing you just how much he enjoyed the worship. 

“You’ll have to even things out, of course,” he said breathlessly, looking at you with purpose. 

You bit your lip and looked down toward your own chest for a second, before sitting upwards to meet him. Your top layers were off in seconds, a new record, abandoned to the other side of the room like rags. Before König could get a chance to take you in you were kissing him again and urging him to keep going, drawing his head back to your neck, gasping as he gently grazed you with his teeth. 

His growls rang in your ears and pulsed all the way down your spine and to your legs, sending you shaking. Animalistic pants and noises were all that filled the room as you both explored each other, running your hand over bumpy scars, course hair and soft skin, kissing the thick expanse of his body when you could. Your senses were filled with him and only him, citrus and musk and muscle all combining to form a catalyst that soon had you crawling onto his lap and bucking against him for friction. 

“You need this don’t you?” he said softly and slowly, dragging out each word with a groan. “Does that feel good? Does it feel good using me like that?”

Your heart beat triple time - you were barely able to respond to him. He was gripping your thighs and teasing his hand over your crotch in small intervals, delighting in the noises you made when he touched you just right. It was the best kind of agony feeling him through the thick material, had you aching to get it all off. 

“Feels sooooo good,” you moaned.

You stared into his eyes, watching as he smiled and gripped the back of your neck, forcing you to keep eye contact with him

“I like it when you look at me like that. I love your beautiful doe eyes, looking at me so hungry. You look like you’re so ready for me. Do you want more?” he rumbled.

“Yes! More, please König please! I feel like m’ on fire,” you cried out, only barely coherent. “Please, I need you to fuck me.”

He laughed mournfully at that,, the kind that suggested he had bad news. The kind that said he’d love to indulge you, but not yet.

“I don’t have condoms with me,” he groaned.

“I do,” you grunted, separating from him for a moment. 

You leaned back and fumbled with the bedside table, knocking your tablet down loudly just as Rocky landed a punch, and pulled out a couple of foil packets from the drawer and a bottle of lube. It was as if you’d performed a magic trick, König went from looking regretful to looking stunned then finally settled on holding a sly smile. 

“Have I ever mentioned how often you surprise me?” He muttered, not hesitating in taking the paraphernalia from you. 

“No, but you can tell me all about it after,” you moaned.

König bit his lip, trapping the smile that clearly wanted to break loose. He was completely entranced by you. Instead of laughing at how feral you’d grown, he set to work unbuttoning your trousers and pulling them off of you, taking everything with them until you were fully naked and on display. He tilted his head downward and blinked slowly, looking like he was in disbelief at your body. 

“You’re perfect,” he sighed.

Blood rushed to your face like a tidal wave, and you broke your stare for a moment of respite. He was so intense, looking at you like a stalking wolf does a deer. Your chest felt thick with anticipation, not even in the least bit prepared for what was coming. He continued to hold you, one arm wrapped around you while the other was occupied, busy with what was to come. 

You gasped as he lubed up his fingers and began to slowly and painstakingly circle them around your entrance. He played with you, barely letting his sights leave your face. He clearly got off your stilted breaths, watching as you adjusted to the cold gel, moaning as he listened to the noises you made with a blissed out smile on his face. 

“You sound so pretty,” he purred. “Keep making those beautiful noises for me, yeah?”

You groaned in response, not able to give him much more.

Finally when you were prepared enough, he easily slipped a finger inside of you and stretched you out, gently plunging it back and forth before adding another. He mixed up his motions, massaging you and curling his fingers and creating a rhythm that had your ears filling with pulsing fuzz and thighs shaking like you’d been labouring for days. You cried out for him, begging him to fuck you, repeatedly telling him ‘please’ and whimpering when he just smiled at you and shook his head, eventually adding another finger. 

“Please König, need to feel you…”

“These are my fingers are they not?” he said, chuckling meanly. 

“Not what I meant!” you huffed, collapsing into his chest with a particularly hard thrust. “I want your cock! I want you to fuck me König!”

He snarled out a sigh and withdrew his digits, then kissed you, silencing your begging with his harsh mouth and tongue while he fiddled with his belt and buttons. After a few seconds he was parting from you again, lip dripping with spit, and rucked down his trousers and boxers in one. He pulled at them harshly and tossed them aside just like everything else. 

“Tell me again,” he uttered.

You drunkenly looked him over and had to double take when you saw him playing with his cock, generously coating the huge length of it with lube, getting himself ready for you. That was what he’d been (somehow) hiding this whole time! Before you could do anything to help it, your mouth hung open and you let out the most pathetic noise you’d ever made, a low lustful whimper. 

“Oh, you like that do you?” He chuckled.

“It’s so big,” you said wondrously, voice fading into nothing.

“Mhmm…you ready to take all this?” he smirked, pumping upward and opening his hand so that you could see the full hard length of it. “Don’t be shy, tell me how much you want it.”

“Oh god.”

You were so lost that you couldn’t even respond properly to his question, his soothing tones too gentle to register. It was going to be a struggle. You were going to feel every inch of it filling you up like a bed post, it was so impossibly long and thick to a degree that it filled even König’s hand. Though, still that didn’t deter you from bucking your hips against him like an animal in heat, welcoming him to ease it inside of you. 

“C’mon, I want to hear you say it again,” König ordered. “Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me,” you all but gasped.

“Fuck me?” he repeated back. “You can - ah-  do better.”

He was gritting his teeth, his body straining as he tried to keep himself together. The speed of his hand was picking up its pace and you whined, feeling like you were taking on some kind of punishment. You would feel far better than his hand did, why wouldn’t he just fuck you already?

“Fuck me, König! I need you to fuck me with your big cock,” you whined.

“Oh, yes,” he growled, “I love hearing my name like that. Come here, let me take care of you.”

He wrapped his arms around you and ushered you over his lap, dragging you both to the edge of the bed so that he could set his legs on the ground. You squeaked as his hands gripped harshly at your hips and lined you up with his cock, breaking his hold for a second while he teased his tip at your entrance, gently guiding you down onto it as if it weren’t going to split you in half. 

“S’already so much,” you moaned, loudly exhaling into the cavernous room. “You’re so big König.”

“Shh, it’s ok,” he soothed, bracing his forehead against yours. “You just need to take it slowly, yeah? Let me guide you.”

“It’s too much,” you cried out, wrapping your arms around him. “But it feels…s- so good.”

You dug your fingers into the soft flesh of his back and buried your head into his hard shoulder. A rush of hot tears were welling in your eyes, it felt like you were going to sob as you were fucked down further onto him. Though still, you were lightly bucking your hips back and forth, easing yourself further down and moaning in joy in how he perfectly filled you, how good the growing pressure felt, the burning tension in your thighs and in your stomach. 

Your breaths sped out quick and uneven and you dug your fingers into the ridges of his back all the more, unknowingly carving tiger stripes down the length of him. You were both seething, but neither of you tried to pull away, instead you only got closer, feeling like you’d been sucked into a black hole when he finally bottomed out, your atoms spread into a breeze.

“There, doesn’t that feel good?” he asked, sighing deeply against your shoulder. “You feel so tight around me, you feel perfect.”

“Mhmm,” you whimpered.

“I need you to tell me how good it feels. C’mon,” he encouraged, gently rubbing your back. “Tell me.”

“I feel…so full. Feels so big - but - but it feels so good,” you cried out, feeling as if you had nothing left in your head. 

“Oh yeah? You look so good like that, all dazed,” König murmured. “I want to savour this, remember how you look when I’m on base. I’m going to feel the ghost of you clenching around me when I’m in my room, you know that?”

You were clenching just at the thought! Humming when you heard him hissing in pleasure. His eyes were just as drunk as yours, drooping full of lust, a perfect mirror. He grinned just slightly, then gripped your hips tighter, forcing you up before bringing you back down again. You both panted and groaned, taking in the sensations zipping through your bones and burning flesh. 

It started off slow at first, König gently fucked you, letting you get used to his girth. You’d barely seen dildos that compared to the size of his cock, let alone experienced anyone fucking you like that before. It had you tipping your head back and parting your lips, whimpering up into the air like a pathetic wolf howl. He groaned and growled over you, breathing quicker and quicker as he increased his pace. He slowly but surely set himself into a rhythm, setting his head on your chest and teasing one of your taught nipples with his flickering tongue.

You were wailing, gripping onto his shoulders with one hand and threading your fingers through his damp hair with the other. He got faster, pulling in and out of you and sending your heart into overdrive. A warzone could’ve broken out around you both and you’d hardly notice over the booming of your hearts, the creaking of the bed, and the lewd sound of his thrusts against your slicked up flesh. Every stroke set off a new wave of fireworks inside you, a hand would lift from your hips and stroke you between your legs, only acting as a catalyst to the growing explosion. Your belly grew tighter and tighter as an orgasm stirred to life, crackling and sparkling at the base of your stomach. 

Though, just as you were hitching your breath, preparing to let go within a matter of minutes, you both were brought to a halt. Footsteps loudly crashed across the flooring outside and a hushed conversation ensued between two older sounding people, something about a strange noise they were hearing. How fucking curious.

“Geh scheißen!”

You giggled a little at König’s hissed curse and watched as his eyes took on a thunderously dark shade, looking like he was going to go out there and strangle the couple for their interruption. Rather than let him get too worked up however, you decided to take action and gently eased yourself off of him with a soft groan, soon feeling horribly empty. Once the couple seemed to retreat again you made your move, grabbing the edge of the mattress. 

He frowned at you, looking evermore confused as you gestured for him to get off the bed, but he complied with your order. Soon enough it was apparent what you were doing and he assisted, dragging the mattress off of the noisy frame with a thud. The further interruption had you both pausing, listening out for the couple’s return, but they never showed. They left you alone in the ringing silence. 

“C’mon, looks like it’s safe,” you grinned, lowering yourself onto all fours 

“Oh it’s like that, is it?” König snorted, watching you assume your stance. 

“What? You don’t like doggy?” you asked, wiggling your butt at him teasingly.

“Didn’t say that,” he corrected, picking up the lube again and reapplying it generously to his swollen cock. “I just like to look at you… you looked so pretty when you’re getting fucked. I like seeing you cock drunk and broken against me.” 

You twitched as he told you that, pursing your lips in a ridiculous show of chaste embarrassment. You both knew you weren’t that innocent, but hearing him say filthy things like that had you dissolving under his gaze like powdered sugar in hot water. 

“Unfortunately you’ll have to be a little quieter now,” he sighed, finally coming down to kneel behind you. “I’ll miss those moans of yours.”

He sounded almost comically wistful. 

“My moans-” you began, outraged at the idea that it was you alone contributing to the racket. 

“Your moans and whimpers, yes. It’s - ugh -  a wonder you ever…got called Sneaky,” he chuckled, cutting you off as he eased back into you. “You’re so loud and responsive for me. Can’t wait to hear you cum.”

You both groaned when he’d plunged his cock back down to the base - you from the sensation and the dirty things he’d said to you. Though, before you could make a rebuttal, or moan any louder, he curled himself over you, melding his stomach to your back while wrapping one of his big arms around, covering your mouth tightly with his hand. He had you secured against him, stuffing you full of him and trapping you with nowhere to go. Not that you’d want to be anywhere else. 

“You like this, hm?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, not able to get anything else out past his hand.

“Good. Because even if someone beats down that door and watches, I won’t stop fucking you until we’re both spent,” he warned.

You clenched hard around him and heard his breath of laughter as he felt the shockwaves of it. 

“You’re so dirty!” he purred, beginning to slowly thrust again. “I love it.”

He didn’t take as long to work up to his punishing pace this time. You whined muffled moans behind his hand, but very little noise sounded around the room beyond the gentle squeaking of the mattress springs and König’s whispered growls that tickled by the back of your neck. He sent your body wild with the things he said. Every word felt as if it zipped straight from your ears and down between your legs, your whole body electrified with the pulsing thrill. 

You feel so good around me, fuck, so tight!

Your body was made for me. You’re so perfect.

You’re mine.

You’re only mine, no one else can have you now. You’re mine!

You panted hard around him, could feel your breath ricocheting off of his fingers. The room felt like it was caving in around you, stars sparkling around your vision until you closed your eyes, embracing the fizzing sensation that grew from the back of your skull until it filled your head. The tight coil inside you was waiting to burst, you were ready to let go, could feel yourself crumbling over the edge. 

After a few more hard thrusts König could feel you going, he could hear the desperate whining that escaped from his hand and groaned. He fucked you with purpose, lengthening his thrusts and plowing into you harder, catching your sweet spot and getting you closer and closer.

“Let me feel you cum...I need it. Cum for me, Come on, cum for me,” he commanded.

Somewhere down the line you obeyed and let go, seeing a white hot screen seer your vision behind your closed eyelids, and feeling the warmth wash through you in an explosion. You moaned out loudly even despite your haphazard gag and sighed as the fire drowned down to a tingling ache that was allowed to settle only after you felt König chase his own release, sloppily thrusting until he ground to a halt, growling out a strangled moan. 

Both of you collapsed shortly after that, rolling onto your backs like two animals that had brought each other to mutual destruction. Pants filled the air, the smell of sex and citrus intermingling, breath spilling out uncontrollably while you both fought to regulate your bodies, taking in the sensations that still tingled around your centres as aftershocks.

You sighed and turned to König smiling when you caught his blissed out expression, you’d never seen him so relaxed before. His hair was messily splayed out all over his head, practically glued to one side as it had likely stuck together from your clawing fingers. Then when you cast your gaze downward, you could see that veins had popped up all over his arms, his whole body puffed up while his skin burned hot with effort. He was aglow with bliss and seemed so cherubic lying there all splayed out and relaxed. 

“So that was pretty good,” you whispered, disturbing his rest when you came to cuddle at his side.

He mumbled something in German and wrapped his arm back around you, tucking his head in against yours. A breath of laughter rushed past your lips.

“Is it your turn to forget English now?” you teased.

He paused for a moment, groaning tiredly. 

“I said that I thought it was more than pretty good,” he said after a moment, curling into your side.

“You’re right,” you grinned. “Best I’ve ever had.”

You could feel his lips twitching into a grin at that. König’s whole body resonated with the compliment, you could feel him getting puffed up with the praise. It took him a while to return the favour and tell you he thought the same, but he cottoned on eventually. It had you both chuckling, though soon you both came to a rest, relaxing in each other's arms and napping a little until König started to shift after a bit, drowsily making his way into a standing position.

You gasped when you opened your eyes.

“What?” he asked, turning to look at you.

“Your back,” you whispered, drawing your hands over your mouth.

König raised his brows in question and wandered over to the mirror, taking heavy clumsy steps over to it. He turned and viewed the damage, shoulder blades rolling as he inspected the thick scratches that had snaked their way down his body like he’d been attacked. He caught your eyes in the mirror and grinned, looking thoroughly pleased with himself in a way you’d never seen before. 

“Thought you’d mark me up and claim me as your own did you?”

Next part here

[jungkookstatts]

Massage Envy

[Summary]: Jungkook’s been stressed these days. What’s a better way to relax him other than a massage?

[Theme]: Established relationship!AU

[Rating]: 18+, explicit content, blow job, slight ass play, fluff if you squint, lots of making out, very sensual lovin’

[Word Count]: 4,939

[Author’s Note]: This is so descriptive 😀. I wanna say this was one of the first fan fics I wrote…at least of JK. So, bare with it. I tried to edit my terrible writing as much as I could ㅜㅡㅜ

[Masterlist] [Taglist]

“Feel good?” you question as you dig your thumbs into your boyfriend’s shoulders. You sigh happily, knowing that the man beneath you is receiving some form of release, as your fingers circulate into his honey skin. The knots in Jungkook’s muscles completely unravel beneath your fingertips, and you’re determined to unravel every last one of them for the rest of the night. He deserves it, anyways.

You wanted to give your boyfriend relief after the hell he put himself through this week. Jungkook knew it too – his body was too spent to deny help at this point, and the only person he is comfortable with seeing himself this way is you. So, of course, he readily gave himself to you, allowing you to rub away at the damage and replace it with your tender touches.

Jungkook groans in response to you, languidly nodding his head against the pillows. Sitting just below his ass, you press his body further into your shared mattress as you continue to work your hands lovingly into his skin.

Your boyfriend lies face-down on his side of the bed; his long, black hair is fanned out across the silk cover of the pillowcase, creating a little black halo of hair around his skull. The room is somewhat dark, only Jungkook’s table lamp lighting up the small corner of your shared bedroom. The light perfectly reflects the shine of his hair, and you can’t help but admire how well taken care of it is as he shifts his head into a non-verbal “yes”.

“I lovfe yhou sooooo much, bahbe–” Jungkook muffled against the pillow, his face totally smushed in the depths of the fabric. He sounds completely relaxed – voice scratchy and spent – as he allows himself to completely surrender to your touch.

Flustered at his confession, you work your thumbs harder into the knots on his shoulders, loving the way he immediately tenses and then relaxes as you smooth out the tightness within them.

Jungkook came home from practice today tense as a board. His muscles were rock hard, he couldn’t seem to sit still or take the time to breathe correctly, and he had a headache so frustrating and annoying he looked as if he was going to cry.

For the past few days, the man’s been training nonstop, working his body to the breaking point on one day and then working past that point on the next. You knew telling him to just “calm down” or “take a break” would fly right past his head – in one ear and out the other. It is not very useful advice, either. But you’re not good with words, and you didn’t have the right ones to say at the moment, either.

Your boyfriend is stubborn and is probably the most meticulous perfectionist you know; finding a way to comfort him when he is like this is not easy. He almost always goes his own way to get things done, refusing to allow anyone to interfere or help. Jungkook has told you before that it is like receiving a punch to the face when someone notices he looks off or thinks that he needs help with something he has been working on really hard on his own. He wants to appear strong and capable, regardless of his condition. Especially to you.

It has gotten better over time, though. The longer you explore each other, the better he feels about reaching out to you for comfort or help. You love seeing the transformations the two of you have overcome within yourselves since starting a relationship all those years ago. You two have really changed so much.

The smile on your face as Jungkook willingly slumped against you at the mention of a massage reminded you of that change. How, if you were to ask him if you could give him one because of his state a few years ago, he would have totally missed out on the opportunity. But now, he completely embraces your help, your concern, all of you, and all of himself – flaws and all.

“Love you, too,” you chuckle before leaning down to kiss his shoulder affectionately. Reaching for the peach-scented body oil on his nightstand, you quickly pop the lid open and tilt the bottle over his back. The oil slowly trickles onto his skin, the shallow lighting making the liquid on his honey skin all the more self-evident. It tempts you as it slides down his back in slow, thick drops.

“You need to take better care of yourself, babe,” you reprimand him as you spread the oil down to his lower back. “You can’t continue to improve if you don’t listen to your body.”

You watch the pinkish oil smear between your fingers as you touch his skin. The intimacy of the moment and the low lighting of the room makes something within you stir. Giving each other massages isn’t a foreign task between you two. In fact, they’ve developed into small mannerisms of affection in your relationship. They usually shift between gentle rubs on the shoulders while waiting for the other to finish up some online work, a hand massage whilst holding hands, or a tummy rub after eating one too many king-sized spicy ramen bowls. They are small gestures that both you and Jungkook admire.

But something about this massage – right when he needs it the most – makes the butterflies in your tummy relentlessly flutter their wings. The fluster it creates within you prompts you to circle your thumbs deeply along the outer muscles of his spine. Judging from the way he physically jolts as you work the area, you assume that the muscles there were abused the most over the last few days. You keep that in mind as you continue kneading his back.

“Mmhmmm – ahh jagiya — right there,” he groans, dismissing your earlier statement. The way your hands have found nearly every sore spot on his back has Jungkook completely blissed out. It feels so good – almost orgasmic, even – when your fingers rub away at the tension he ignored for so long. It has him thanking the heavens for your wonderful hands and simultaneously cursing at himself for not acknowledging them more in the past.

He must worship them later, he’s decided.

Listening to your boyfriend, you move your fingers firmly down near the lowest parts of his spine, which evokes an even deeper moan from his throat. You can hear it loud and clear, even though the front of his body is pushed like a brick against the sheets as you work your hands on him. It’s so deep, it sends heavy shocks throughout his entire body (and yours).

Sitting on top of him, you can’t help but blush. You aren’t a rock – of course, his moans would spark the dirtiness within you to flush your cheeks into a dark hue. No matter the innocent intent you had prior to the massage, you can’t deny your boyfriend’s reactions to your touches make your pussy ache for more.

He sounds so sexy and raptured. The way he groans when you hit the spots he can’t reach, and the way he whines when you massage the spots that are the tensest – all of it has your cheeks hot and your thighs feeling like jello. You wonder if he can feel the pool between your thighs grow with each moan that physically vibrates through his body and straight to your core.

But this massage is not about you, and these dirty thoughts have no place here. Especially when you’re trying so graciously to knead his muscle-y, hot, tense, sexy back with domestic care. Yep, they have no place here. No place at all. Even though the angle you sit at gives you the perfect view of his toned ass. In fact, you have the perfect view of his entire backside. With every massage against a sore spot, his thighs flex underneath you and unknowingly lift you higher until they relax again.

It’s all too much…his back, skin, ass, thighs, arms… the way he whimpers and moans and tenses from your fingers alone. How can you stay innocent when sounds so sweet underneath you?

You can’t help but want to please him in a different way now – still with your hands, and still to bring him to the pit of relaxation. Just…in a different area…for a different part of the brain.

Your stare wanders around his back. His broad shoulders are wide and stretched out for you, his forearms resting just underneath his pillow while his biceps poke out from the pillow like a triangle, supporting his head from underneath. The skin of his shoulders teases you with memories of when they had the reddest of scratches and the purplest of love bites covering the large surface. You have to make him feel that kind of good tonight. Maybe even better.

Challenging him, you lift your ass off his upper thighs and bring your lips to the very base of his neck before kissing the skin there softly. It’s feather-light, testing the waters before you dive in. You can feel the goosebumps appear under the hand that still works his muscles at his lower back. The other slowly slides up the side of his chest with ease. With the help of the oil, your hand against his warm skin slides like silk underneath your fingertips, feeling his body underneath you slowly and sensually.

Jungkook shivers as your mouth hovers above his skin, waiting for what you’ll do next. He gulps as you make your next move, sucking on the skin you just kissed. Your tongue is so hot and wet, lapping and sucking at his skin with slow passion. He whimpers underneath you, loving the way your touch turned from moral to intimate.

Jungkook would be lying if he said the whole experience wasn’t just as sexy for him, too. You turned him on from the moment you sat on the back of his thighs and dripped the hot oil onto his back. Your heat is so obvious to him – your heartbeat thumping through your pussy, gathering more heat against his thighs with each garbled moan and whimper that left his mouth. You are basically dripping through your night shorts. Although, he cannot tease you for it, because his own cock painfully pokes against the fabric of the mattress as you sit on his ass.

Your hand pressing on his lower back parallels the motion of your hand on the opposite side, just underneath his arm. Both glide to his upper back with the help of the oil as you begin to kiss down his spine. You manage to find a place between a few pecks against his spine to whisper, “Turn around for me,”

And he does in a heartbeat, immensely determined to feel you on his lap. Jungkook doesn’t know if he can wait anymore. He wants to feel you brushing against his length as you spread oil all over his chest and abs. He wants your hands on him again, to feel your fingers torture his skin and keep him begging for more. The thought alone has blood rushing straight to his already straining cock in his tight boxers.

Once settled, you softly plop yourself right on top of his dick, sending him a smirk whilst his jaw tightens at the feeling of his cock resting beneath your core. Jungkook looks at you with need, his bottom lip tortured underneath his front teeth as he watches you start to move your hips tremendously slow against his.

You can feel the way his dick twitches when you place your oily hands firmly against his lower abs, slowly moving up toward his nipples. You rest your hand flat on his chest, trapping his nipples between your index and middle finger. Jungkook lets out an airy grunt as you leisurely bring the two digits together, gently pinching the sensitive buds between them. Jungkook’s breath hitches in his chest as you start to move your fingers with his nipples trapped between them, the sensitivity exciting him beyond belief.

Your hands leave his nipples and continue their northern journey up to his clavicles, then to his neck, and finally his jaw. Softly holding his face in your hands, you lower your face to his. Jungkook’s eyes close in anticipation, his face gently pressing up towards yours, expecting to be kissed. He whines when you antagonize him with just a light brush of your lips against his.

Jungkook breathes deeply against your mouth, exhaling in torment and inhaling with the highest level of self-control he can muster.

“Please,” he begs just above a whisper.

Eyes closed and a tortured wrinkle between his brows, he waits for your lips to break the tension. He is so patient and willing tonight, so you decide to reward him with a firm press of your lips to his, moving against his soft mouth surely.

You can feel the vibration of the moan he lets out from his lips smacking against yours. His voice travels straight to your core, prompting your hips to circle his own faster in search of friction.

Jungkook swipes his tongue against your lips, feeling the desire for your tongue to dance with his own. His hands come up to your jaw, holding you in place against his mouth as if you’d run away if he didn’t hold you there himself.

Jungkook grunts at the way your hips harshly grind against his. He wants more of you – he always wants more of you – but his head is too fuzzy with pleasure to think straight. You’re kissing him stupid.

His body acts on its own, his large hands moving from your jaw to under your night shirt. Hot palms follow his desire to feel you as he cups the area just under your boobs, thumbs swiping back and forth against the skin underneath them. He can feel your heartbeat thumping rapidly underneath his palm, prompting him to lightly circle his thumb over the aroused area of your breast. Jungkook’s mouth still moves in tandem with yours as he tweaks your nipples in between his fingertips.

Jungkook groans at the way you gently bite on his lower lip before trailing your kisses down to his neck. He only gets louder when you find his sweet spot before he can even process the fact that you’re sucking on his neck. Jungkook’s head falls back onto the pillows as his hands move down to grip your ass in his hands. Groping both cheeks firmly, he pulls them apart before grinding them down harshly onto his bulge, giving one of them a harsh smack out of his pure arousal.

You attack his neck, forming bruise after bruise on his precious skin. Your boyfriend flushes his body into yours from pleasure. You want to wreck him so badly. Feeling evil and lustrous, you bite his sweet spot hard, overcome by the man underneath you. Jungkook’s mouth falls open at the feeling, head pressing further against the cushion of the pillow.

Still kissing his neck, you reach for the bottle on the nightstand, pop the lid open with your thumb, and tip the bottle over his chest. The oil runs all over his tanned skin, slowly covering it with a teasing glow over his chest and abs. Raising your head, you stare down at the man beneath you lovingly, looking into his eyes with lust as you continue to grind on his cock firmly.

Your hands venture from his chest to his clavicles, shoulders, arms, and hands, and then back to his pecks, stopping briefly to play with his nipples again.

Jungkook’s breath hitches in his throat as you roll them between your fingers, his eyes fluttering slightly as he tries his hardest to keep eye contact with you.

Impulsively, his hips buck into your own when you come down to suck one into your mouth, licking and biting at the sensitive area of his chest. Jungkook tries to control his breathing, he really does, but it feels so good. Too good. And you haven’t even touched his dick yet.

Grinning at the way his chest uncontrollably tightens from your mouth, you reach for more oil before dripping the liquid down his abs. It trickles over his pack, the six defined rolls acting as hills when the oil attempts to slip over each one.

Picking up the pace, you move your hips faster against him. You watch his eyes flutter closed, enjoying the way your thinly clothed core rubs against the front of his Calvin’s. His cock is completely hard and throbbing against you. You’re driving him mad with everything that is you. He could cum right now if you’d let him, but he knows better.

Fingers spreading the oil across his abs, you enjoy the way your boyfriend’s eyebrows fuse together in pure satisfaction. Jungkook’s head feels dazed and light when you begin to kiss him on the skin just below his ear.

“Look at me, Jungkook,” you whisper against the cartilage of his ear.

Jungkook shivers at your voice in his ear, listening to your breathy sighs against his skin, feeling your wet lips kiss him from his ears to his neck, to his chest, all the way down to his clothed dick behind his black boxers. He stares at you like you asked him to, watching you intensely as you rest between his thighs, lightly kissing his covered shaft.

Jungkooks fists ball the sheets beside him, his head falling back at the feeling before quickly returning back to your gaze.

“Please,” he begs you again, cheeks flushed, ears red, and breath heavy from the teasing you have given him. He tries his best not to buck his hips at you, channeling the desire in his throat instead, swallowing harshly and waiting patiently to be touched.

Jungkook groans when he watches your mouth lick from his base to tip on the thin fabric, tongue teasing his cock.

“Nghhh–” he whines, briefly tilting his head back again in an effort to keep his control. “Fuck, please, baby. I need you so bad.”

Wrapping your lips around his clothed head, you hum deeply against him, sending shocks of ecstasy throughout his entire cock. Jungkook’s thighs tense at the feeling, trying to direct the pressure to his legs instead of having it tempt his vision from falling back again. He needs you, and the only way you will give him what he wants is if he does what is asked of him.

“Okay, baby,” you finally give in, chuckling a little when he sighs loudly in relief. He truly doesn’t know how long he is going to last in your mouth, but he knows for a fact he’s probably going to have one of the best orgasms of his life from just your mouth alone.

Hooking your index fingers under the waistband of his boxers, you slowly and gently tug them down his legs and onto the floor, watching his cock spring up in excitement.

The sight has your mouth watering immediately – dick red and angry, just asking to be sucked on. Licking your lips, you softly cup his balls in one hand and grip the base of his cock in the other. Jungkook’s head falls back, biting his lip so hard he swears he will bleed. His fists scratch at the mattress, trying his best not to release from finally being touched in the area he’s been begging for release from.

“Watch me, Jungkook, or I’ll stop,” you command, giving his balls a squeeze.

“Okay–ffuckk–o-okay,” he moans, quickly bunching up the pillows behind his head to get a better look at you. Jungkook gulps at the sight: your lips are so wet, basically drooling on his cock. Your hands grip his dick in the way he loves best, your face so determined to give him pleasure. He’s never seen anything so goddamn sexy before in his life. And to think you’re all his…the fact makes him go absolutely insane underneath you.

You lick at his tip teasingly, keeping eye contact with him to make sure he’s not taking his eyes off you. Jungkook stares back at you with drunken eyes. He’s flushed and obedient to whatever you do to him, ready for you to play with his pleasure.

You can’t help but give in, teasing him again with your tongue along his frenulum, lapping it up and down on the sensitive fold.

Your hands slowly pump the base of his cock, palms gliding well with the help of the oil from earlier. You don’t go all the way up to his tip, just to edge him further.

“G-god, you’re so fffucking mean,” he laughs tightly in his chest. He’s struggling, but it only makes you smile, loving that he knows that you’re the one in charge tonight.

Looking at his chest as you move your mouth from his frenulum to the tip of his head, smiling at the way he tries to keep his calm when you slick your tongue up and down across the most sensitive part of him. Lips wrapping around his angry tip, you suck him harshly as your wrists flick slowly up and down the rest of his cock, twisting all the way up to your mouth and back down to the base.

“A-ahhh, j-jagi,” Jungkook whines, hands trapping your hair tightly in his fists.

You stare at him the whole time, watching his face go from frustrated to pure euphoria as he struggles to keep his eyes open. After a few more strokes of his cock, one of your twisting hands leaves his dick to skim your fingertip across the skin connecting his balls to his shaft.

Your tongue delves further down his dick, your mouth following afterward, sinking down onto him completely, your nose nudging the skin of his pelvis.

“Nghhh..!” he nearly shouts, legs tensing – almost kicking – against the bedding.

Jungkook’s eyes come back and forth between the back of his skull and your face a few times before you swallow his top at the back of your throat. At this point, his grip on your hair is so tight, your own eyes start to roll back in pleasure.

Jungkook moans so loudly into the empty air of your bedroom that you feel your own slick start to uncomfortably drip down the side of your thigh. Your cunt is pulsing and hot, begging for friction as you deliver pleasure to your sweet boyfriend.

He is just so sexy like this, struggling to follow your demand whilst receiving euphoric pleasure. Your pussy can’t take it anymore, and you suddenly find yourself reaching your free hand down past your night shorts, circling your clit as you trace the outer rim of his ass with your other hand.

Swallowing a few more times around him, you bring your mouth back up to his tip only to sink back down on him again. Gathering a semi-quick pace to fuck him with, you watch his face and thigh muscles contort in euphoric unison. The finger gently plays with his ass coming back and forth between his balls, shaft, and ass as you bob your head up and down on him, your tongue swirling around him altogether.

Jungkook is going absolutely mad, whimpering and moaning as you continue to wrap him around your pretty little finger, watching your beautiful face fuck him with your mouth willingly. Just cause you want to.

It takes everything in him not to say "fuck it" and buck his hips violently into your mouth. He fights his pleasure and your set rule in a bloody war between obedience and desire. You can tell with the way his eyes struggle to not find purchase at the back of his head, and the way his dick twitches in your mouth every so often. His reactions have you rubbing at yourself harder, and before long, you moan into him as your slick gathers around your fingers.

Jungkook hadn't noticed you started touching yourself until now. The slick from your pussy snaps in the air as you harshly rub your fingers against yourself. Jungkook's eyes trail from your face to your hand, circling yourself fast and hard between your legs. At the sight, his thighs tense harshly against you, threatening to close around your body and trap you tightly between his legs. His toes curl at the sight of you touching yourself, the scene so sexy that his cock twitches uncontrollably in your mouth. Pushing a finger into his ass from the loss of eye contact, you watch his eyes and head go back completely, giving up on your request as your finger finds his prostate.

"Ahh, ah—mGHhhh, ba-baby...gonna cum. I'm gonna cum—" He moans euphorically. Jungkook pushes your head down onto his cock quickly, his hips bucking upwards into your throat.

He thrusts into your mouth now, completely disobeying himself and your word. But after seeing you touch yourself just from sucking him off, he can’t listen to anything else but his desire.

You choke against him, tears forming at the edges of your eyes. Jungkook's head seizes deep into the cushion of the pillows, neck tense and strained as he completely empties his balls into your mouth, the hot thick ropes of his release filling you up. You take all of him, refusing to waste a drop.

You keep trailing your finger in, out, and around his balls and ass as you suck his cum into your mouth for what felt like a full minute, watching him pant and moan your name incoherently as he does so. You take it all graciously, enjoying the way his gratefulness for you shows in the way he continues to release himself.

Lifting your mouth from his cock, you rest your forehead against his upper thigh as you whimper and gasp against him. Not soon after, your cunt gushes all over your fingers, letting it soak your panties and shorts. You moan against his thigh while your fingers work through the last few waves of your orgasm.

The two of you breathe harshly against each other for a few minutes. Your bodies sink into the mattress heavily, allowing yourselves to take the time to catch your breath. That is until you break the silence with a shy giggle.

"What's—" He rasps, clearing his throat before continuing. "What's so funny?"

You hum, kissing his thigh lovingly before looking up to his fucked-out face. "You made me cum my pants."

"Heh," He smiles, leaning his head back against the pillows again, giving you a sickeningly hot view of his neck. You watch his Adam's apple move up and down from his next words "Yeah, well, I think you gave me the best head I've ever received in my life. Didn't think sucking cock would make you cum that hard, though."

"I always feel like that when I suck your cock," You smirk, to which Jungkook eyes you, telling you not to make him horny again. You chuckle before climbing up his body to kiss his lips.

Jungkook can't help but smile against you, though still completely dazed from his orgasm. He doesn't care in the slightest that he can taste himself on your lips. He only cares about the way your lips slowly tuck into his in soft, drawn-out motions.

"I love you," You mumble against his cherry lips.

"I love you, too," He smiles sweetly, tucking your hair behind your ear. "Thank you for taking care of me. I know I can ignore self-care sometimes, but I'll try to be better. For both you and me."

Smiling at his words, you kiss the tip of his nose before nuzzling your face into his neck, breathing his familiar scent deeply.

"Although, if I get that kind of treatment every time I go overboard..."

You pinch his shoulder, eliciting a sexy chuckle from his chest.

"Shut up, loser. Acknowledge my massage."

Jungkook turns himself into you, pulling you closer into his chest whilst laughing deeply in your ear, his breath lightly tickling the side of your neck.

"Your massage was wonderful," He whispers, kissing your forehead sweetly. "Let me give you one next time, yeah?"

Taking a deep breath against his chest, you tightly wrap your arm under his, hand coming to grab at his shoulder. Jungkook hugs you as you tighten around his body. His fingers gently trap your chin between them, moving your face up to his.

Jungkook stares at you questionably, waiting for a response. He looks at you with one eyebrow raised, and the other relaxed. The tiny mole underneath his bottom lip is extremely visible from where you stare up at him. His cherry lips tempt you yet again, swollen and red from harsh tugs delivered against them earlier this evening. You watch his dark brown eyes stare down at your own puffy lips. He gives in first, letting his lips feel the velvet of your own. Jungkook sighs into you, rubbing your back soothingly as he swipes and brushes his lips against yours like honey.

Pulling away, you look at his face, feeling an overwhelming amount of love surge through your entire body. He keeps his eyes closed, basking in the feeling of your body so close to his.

"I'd like that," You whisper against his cheek. Jungkook opens his eyes again, tugging his lips upwards as he slowly nudges his nose against yours.

After a few more moments, he gently scoops you into his arms, lifting you up in his strong hold, before carrying you to the bathroom to clean you two up.

----

[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2023]

[ghcstpyre]

Can you write something with cullen brushing the readers hair? It's a cute concept to me 🫶🫶 thank u

thank you so much for the request! sorry it's taken me so long to get round to it - life has been kicking my ass :')

content: cullen x reader / inquisitor!reader / gn!reader / fluff

"You know, you're better at this than I thought you'd be."

Your shoulders were slumped, void of tension for what felt like the first time in a while as you let your body sink back into the chair at your dresser. A soft, brassy chuckle came from the man standing behind you and his careful hands paused their motions.

"It's difficult to not pick up on these sorts of things when you grow up with two sisters." Cullen replied, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards as his hands resumed their work.

Thanks to the Commander, the bristles of your hairbrush combed gently through your hair, making sure not to snag harshly on any knots. The hand that wasn't gripping the brush handle held onto your hair a few inches from the tips, his grip tightening and loosening when needed as he worked the bristles through the ends of your hair and gradually made his way upwards.

You were too relaxed to think of a witty remark and instead let a happy little sigh slip past your lips as the bristles got closer to your scalp. It wasn't often that you and Cullen got a quiet moment together like this - being the Inquisitor and Commander respectively left little room for any downtime, let alone any downtime together - so you were determined to savour every precious second of it.

Once Cullen was sure he'd gotten rid of any little knots, he began steadily dragging the bristles of the brush through your hair from root to tip, the fingers of his free hand following close behind, combing them through your freshly washed locks.

When you asked him to brush your hair after you'd finished bathing, Cullen had been worried about the evidence of battle he might find upon your pretty head; singed hair from the fire spell of a rebel Mage, a bruise from the pommel of a Templar sword, or a scratch from a wretched Shade demon. He was more than relieved however when he found nothing of the sort. Instead you were simply knackered down to the bone from your travels and fed up with the pettiness, fickleness and rudeness of the Orlesian nobility. He could see it in the dark circles around your eyes and the way you dragged your feet upon re-entering Skyhold.

You'd choose battling demons over playing The Game any day (much to Josephine's dismay).

A content hum left your mouth and your eyes slipped shut as Cullen continued to work wonders on your weary head. The quietness of your chambers in Skyhold was a welcome reprieve from the hustle and bustle of Orlais, as was the warm, welcoming embrace of the Commander. Your Commander.

"Mm...remind me to thank your sisters when I meet them."

Another hearty chuckle sounded from behind you and the wonderful tingling sensation of your hair being brushed finally stopped, causing you to whine weakly in protest. Cullen's free hand moved from your hair to rest on your left shoulder as he leaned over your right to place the hairbrush back down on your dresser. His head dipped down to level with yours as he leaned back from the dresser and pressed his lips to the soft skin of your cheek in a gentle kiss, his stubble feeling a little prickly against your face - not that you minded.

"I'm sure I can manage that." Cullen's voice was low and soft. His hazel eyes flicked down to your lips before he leaned in once again, his mouth finally finding yours after weeks of being apart.

[dira333]

Hurts to be away from you - Shigaraki x Soulmate reader

For my Follower Celebration - Soulmates can't be physically away from each other or it hurts

This is the first time I write Shigaraki and I hope I did him justice

Shigaraki doesn’t know when he notices the owl for the first time.

He’s not too knowledgeable about birds but shouldn’t owls be bigger? 

“Kurogiri.” He calls out for his colleague, “Come here.”

Impatiently he waits for the other to join him only to have the bird fly off the moment Kurogiri steps up to the window.

“Never mind. You were too slow.”

❤︎

The Owl is there again, sitting on his windowsill and blinking at him.

He opens the window and waits. The bird does not move. 

“Are you a spy?” He asks the bird, glad that he’s alone for once. Their new hideout is small and he hates when he has no space for himself.

The owl blinks and makes a low sound, hopping closer towards him.

The movement is sudden enough to scare him and his hand flips up, fingers outstretched, Quirk ready to go.

The Owl turns its head sideways, looks at him without blinking and drops off the windowsill, flying off soundlessly.

Heaviness settles in his bones as he watches the animal leave and he huffs angrily. 

He’s not getting sad about a dumb animal!

❤︎

It doesn’t matter where they are, the Owl’s always able to find him.

He should tell the others, make sure it’s not someone spying on them with a mutation quirk, but he can’t bring himself to do it.

Instead he throws bread crumbs out the window or builds a make shift nest out of stolen socks. 

He calls it Mon, like his childhood pet dog. Holds his hand out in the hopes that it will loose it’s fear and move closer, let him pet the smooth coat of feathers. 

He feels calmer when the Owl is in his line of sight, feels content to sit at the window and talk the animal’s ear off. 

There’s something so human about the way it looks at him, blinks at the right moments.

But this is the real world. Where no good things last.

❤︎❤︎❤︎

From the day you turn eighteen, pain is your constant companion.

For some people it’s a dull headache or a knot in their stomach, but you can feel the absence of your soulmate in your bones.

You would curse it, if it didn’t make finding him so much easier.

When you’re up in the air, your true element, you can feel the pull and let it direct your movements.

You feel a bit weird watching him from the safety of the trees or the windowsill, but you have no idea how to approach him, even less when you realize who he is.

Your soulmate is a villain. 

And the more you learn about him, the clearer it becomes. He’s not just any villain. He’s THE Villain.

❤︎❤︎❤︎

“Ha, Mon. Are you hungry?” Shigaraki places a handful of breadcrumbs on the windowsill.

You eat them, careful of his movements.

Ever since the first time he talked to you, he hasn’t threatened you with his quirk again, but you’ve been born careful, shy, anxious.

Shigaraki keeps talking, telling you about his days. 

Slowly, he stretches out his pointer finger, trying to lure you toward him.

Today, you comply and press your small bird body against his finger. 

Shigaraki falls silent, as he slowly, carefully, rubs his finger against your feathers.

Behind Shigaraki, a door opens.

“Shigaraki? We’re ready to leave.”

You jump back to the edge of the windowsill, eyes on the green skinned Mutant that’s standing in the door.

Shigaraki huffs in annoyance.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming. What heroes are in the vicinity?”

“Some Owl Dude and-” You don’t stay to listen any longer. There is only one Pro Hero with an Owl Quirk and that is your father.

You might be too weak to be a hero but you won’t let anyone hurt your father if you can help avoid it.

❤︎❤︎❤︎

You wonder if you’ll ever grow used to the pain. 

It’s been months since you’ve last met Shigaraki, since you left him to warn your father.

You had made that decision with a heavy heart and heavier bones, guilt and desire pulling you back while determination drove you forward. You couldn’t and wouldn’t let anyone die.

But your wings are still missing some feathers from where his Quirk reached you on your way out of the city. You’re lucky you’re still alive. The City isn’t.

❤︎

It’s over. 

The war has been won, All for One has been defeated.

And even though it seems a cruel joke, Shigaraki is still alive, tied to a bed in a hospital.

It’s a precaution, Deku had told him the first time he visited. People are and will be afraid of him for quite some time.

Deku visits him daily, if only to sit with him for a few minutes and tell him about his grandmother, the weather outside, or other mundane things.

“How are you feeling?” He asks everytime he visits. “Does anything hurt?”

“My bones.” Shigaraki confesses grumpily. “No matter how many painkillers we try, my bones hurt all the damn time.”

Deku cocks his head to the side in a way that has become familiar.

“Have you met your Soulmate yet, Shigaraki?”

“My Soulm-, Dude, have you forgotten who I am?”

“I haven’t. But… I don’t know if you’ve been taught that, I thought it was common knowledge, but there’s a certain pain that you feel whenever you’re away from your soulmate. The closer they are, the less it hurts.”

“What?” Shigaraki laughs. “You’re kidding, right? No way that’s true.”

Deku lifts up his hand and wriggles his fingers. “Everytime I am away from Ochako my fingers start hurting. Didn’t realize it was her for some time because my hands were broken so often, but once you know, you know.”

Shigaraki considers that for a moment, tries to push away the thought of how ridiculous that sounds. There have been moments where his bones didn’t hurt, he knows that. 

There’s movement at the windows and he looks, hoping against everything that it will be his little owl, his Mon. But it’s a Sparrow that’s ignoring them as it picks seeds from the little birdhouse.

“You like birds?” Deku asks. 

Shigaraki snorts. “No. I just… There was an owl that used to visit me.”

“Ah, yes.” Deku nods with a look on his face that has Shigaraki frowning.

He opens his mouth to ask about it when the door opens.

“Midoriya-san? Visiting time is already over.”

“Oh? I’m sorry. Tomura, I’ll be seeing you tomorrow then.”

“I won’t die if you skip one time.”

Deku smiles. “But just to make sure I’ll be here tomorrow anyway.”

…

It’s late and Shigaraki can’t sleep. He doesn’t like taking sleeping pills and he’d forgone the painkillers today, already knowing that they wouldn’t work on the pain settling in his bones. 

He tosses and turns until he notices movement in front of the window.

When he moves out of the bed he realizes with a start that his bones have stopped hurting. When did that happen?

Outside the window, almost invisible in the darkness, sits the little owl.

“Hey Mon.” Shigaraki whispers and presses his hand against the cool glass. “Missed you.”

The bird pushes itself against the glass as if trying to cuddle into his hand.

“Can’t open the window.” Shigaraki tells it. “That’s forbidden in case I could try and hurt myself. But they stopped tying me to the bed, so I guess that’s progress. Where have you been? Do owls migrate to warmer climates?”

The little owl ruffles its wings, stretching one of them into the direction of a distant streetlamp. He notices the new, shorter feathers right away.

“Did you get into a fight?” He asks, unable to keep the worry from slipping into his voice and watches the owl move it’s body as if it’s shrugging its shoulders.

❤︎❤︎❤︎

Months go by. 

They allow Kurogiri to stay with him.

They move the two of them to a different wing of the hospital into something that could be a rather nice apartment anywhere in the city if not for the locked windows and the buttons next to the door to alert a doctor if needed.

“About the owl…” Shigaraki starts one day when Deku’s done telling him about the progress he’s making on the new reform for handling dangerous Quirks. 

“Yeah?” Deku’s shoulders are relaxed but his tone is tense.

“It’s a shapeshifter, right?”

“What makes you think that?”

“I talked to some other people about your soulmate theory and everyone agreed that it was true. And as a human and an animal cannot be soulmates, it has to be a shapeshifter.”

Deku nods slowly. “She’s your soulmate then?”

Shigaraki’s unable to speak as the truth settles in. Some part of him had still been in doubt, but Deku’s face is as open as always, telling him more than he can handle at the moment.

“Would you like to meet her?”

Shigaraki looks down at his hands in his lap, clenching and unclenching.

There are a million things he wants to ask, but it feels wrong to ask Deku instead of you.

“Tell you what…” Deku leans forward in his chair. “I will talk to her. If she wants to come, I’ll bring her with me. One less decision for you to make.”

That night, the owl doesn’t come. Shigaraki stares out the window into the night and allows himself to succumb to the pain in his bones, telling himself to get used to it. 

He’ll be happier in the end if he doesn’t set himself up to get disappointed.

❤︎

He knows who you are the moment you step into the room.

It’s in the way you move, how you hold yourself up. It’s in the way you wring your hands and hide behind Deku until he steps away.

“I’m going to get us something to drink.” He grins. “I’ll be back in a second.”

“You came.” Shigaraki says because he doesn’t know what else to say. 

“I…” You take a seat on the chair next to his bed, ass on the edge as you wobble around. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me.”

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me.” He gives back and watches your eyes move up to his eyes before they turn back to the floor.

“I told my father… about you. Had to, because he didn’t want to leave Deika City.”

“You were there?”

“Yeah…” You wobble some more, worrying your lip between your teeth. “Got hit by your quirk. But only a little.” You rush to add. “It wasn’t that bad, I just couldn’t fly after that for a while.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay-”

“It’s not.” Shigaraki stares out the window, trying to keep himself from looking at you. Even your reflection is too pretty to be in a room with him. 

“I did a lot of things that were terrible and that I cannot take back. I don’t know why you would even meet-” He stops abruptly when a single shaking finger is stretched into his field of vision. 

Your hand is outstretched, your pointer finger curved. 

It’s a faint memory but it reminds him of the one and only time he got the owl, you, to come close. 

Without thinking, he leans in until your finger touches his cheek. You move it softly, caressing his skin. Your eyes are locked on to his and he wonders what you see in them. Yours are filled with a softness he doesn’t deserve.

But when you move your fingers to cup his cheek, he can’t help but lean into it.

“Midoriya-san has told me that you got a second chance.” You don’t blink as you speak. “I want to be part of it if you’ll let me.”

❤︎❤︎❤︎

It’s a new year, a new apartment. 

The windows aren’t locked anymore and there’s another bedroom for Spinner who might get to start work soon.

Three times a week Shigaraki gets to take classes to retake his high school degree and so far he has learned that he likes math and hates geography, doesn’t mind languages and can’t get enough of art. 

He has good days and bad days and days that are worse. 

His bones hurt in the morning and there’s no painkiller that could help with that, but each day he gets to open his window and watch you flutter in.

“Mylady.” He offers you his arm when you've shifted into your human body. “Do you want to go take a walk in the park?”

Your eyes gleam as you take it, lean into him. “With you? Always.”

He can deal with the shadows of his life if you keep bringing in the light.

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[someplayfuldreams]

hidden shadow

pairing: rafayel x mc

genre: fluff

warnings: none

word count: 2.6k

summary: what i imagined while listening to the secret times "hidden shadow"

A/N: the majority of Rafayel's lines are straight from the audio, which is not my own writing, but everything else is from my delusional mind; this man and his secret times has me in a chokehold, so i had to write this out

also on ao3 under the user playfuldreams

enjoy!~

The loud sound of blades clashing against each other reverberated through the air. As soon as you block his swing, you jump back to prepare for the next blow. You adjust your grip on the handle, hoping it wouldn’t slip out due to the sweat. 

Before you can finish catching your breath, Rafayel rushes forward, swinging his dagger up diagonally. 

Your body tenses. Thankfully, your reflexes kick in time and you are able bring up your dagger to block the attack. But since you couldn’t get into the proper position, the force of the slash pushes you off balance on the sand and end up falling on your butt. 

“Ah..,” you let out a soft yelp before looking up to see a dagger pointing at you. You glance back at the holder, making eye contact with burning purple eyes. 

He spins the dagger, sheathing it, then holds out his hand. 

“Let’s stop here for today,” He says. “A sandstorm approaches. We must return to our tent.”

You take his hand and get up. Handing him your dagger, you dust the sand off your pants and hands.

We start walking to the tent we had set up prior to the training session. Only the sound of sand shuffling beneath is heard, accompanying your thoughts about your bodyguard’s hidden past.

You look up to see him gazing over the horizon clearly in deep thought. 

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you speak up.

“I thought a skilled guard like you was invincible. Are you saying a sandstorm is enough to beat you?” You ask, teasingly.

“Huh? I’m not completely unaffected by the harsh environment” Rafayel responds.

Just as you are about to say another sassy remark, you watch as he walks closer to you. He stops right in front of you, leaning close enough you can see the pink highlights in his eyes. 

“But a competent assassin can still fight despite the sand,” he whispers.

You blink a few times before looking down, unable to hold his strong gaze any longer. He steps back and you can almost see the smirk on his face. You clench your fists. If you had just kept eye contact a little longer, you would be the one smirking not him. 

You give a little huff, stomping forward. 

You feel Rafayel’s gaze on you, but you refuse to give in and turn around. After a few more steps, Rafayel grabs your wrist, pulling you to a stop. 

He walks around to stand in front of you. This time you hold your head high, meeting his gaze straight on. 

He tilts his head, giving a sly smile.

“Would Your Highness like to try? With your determination, let’s do it,” Rafayel proposes. 

He unties one of the black ribbons tied to his arm, pulling it taut. As he walks closer, your heart skips a beat and feel yourself warm.

“Close your eyes and hold still,” He says softly.

You obediently listen to him. With your eyes now closed, your nerves are amplified.

His hot breath sweeps over your ears causing you to shiver. You hear him chuckle lightly. You bit your lip and resist the impulse of swinging at him.

You flinch when you feel something close to your face. 

“It’s just the ribbon. Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.” Rafayel assures you.

The smooth silk is cool over your heated skin. It slides over your eyelids and cheekbones before stopping in what seems to be the right place.

He carefully ties the ends behind your head, making sure not to get your hair in the knot.

Even after the ribbon is tied, you can still sense his warmth in front of you

“Now, Your Highness’s eyes are covered. How is it?” He asks. 

With your eyes blindfolded, you are unable to read Rafayel’s face. You shift your weight and feel a little startled when the ground feels more unsteady than usual. 

“It’s fine when I’m standing still, but I don’t know if I can move around like this. What if I..”

“Stay calm.” You hear him say. 

Warm hands slowly hold your shoulders, comforting you.

“When sight cannot be relied on, the other senses must be utilized.” Rafayel advises.

He runs his hands down your arms, taking your hands in his. He gives a small squeeze before letting go.

You hear the sand shuffling in front of you and no longer sense Rafayel. He must have stepped away from you. You begin to feel more uncertain now that Rafayel isn’t there to support you.

“Try and catch me,” Rafayel says. And then, you hear nothing. 

You stand in place, hesitating. How are you supposed to find him blindfolded?

Taking a deep breathe, you use your other senses like he told you to.

You feel the warm breeze along with the small pinpricks of occasional sand grains flying over you. The only sounds you can hear are those of sand swirling on the wind. Not knowing where to even go, you start walking in a random direction.

It takes a lot more concentration to walk on sand blindfolded. It felt like you would fall with one wrong step.

A noise to your right catches your attention. You change your direction towards it. After a few more careful steps, you hear more sand moving to your left. You spin around towards the new sound.

Then all of a sudden, there’s the sound of footsteps behind you. 

You quickly turn around, trying to focus on pinpointing the exact location.

You begin to get frustrated, but take another breath to calm yourself. 

You’re the one who asked Rafayel to train you so you could protect yourself better. You would follow through with it.

More footsteps are heard all over the place. Focusing in, you decide to take a leap of faith and begin confidently walking straight towards the last sound you heard, reaching your hands out to hopefully feel the rough cotton of Rafayel’s tunic. 

After about 10 steps, the sounds disappear again, but this time you catch a light scent of the sea breeze that reminds you of home. You immediately turn around, swinging your arms in front of you.

Your hands hit something solid, causing you to lose your balance. You frantically move your hands trying to grab onto something to stabilize you. 

You feel strong arms come around you as your hands grip the fabric of his shirt.

Rafayel moves his arm over your head as you both tumble to the ground, rolling twice down the dune. You feel yourself land on top of him, raising your head, wishing you could see if he was okay.

“Not bad… But it was only a matter of luck.” You hear him say below you.

You let out a sigh. Does he really have to say it like that?

You feel his abdominal muscles tense as he sits up. You shakily get off him, kneeling on the sand. Being unable to see and trying to be stable on shifting sand was not easy.

You feel his rough hand take yours as he helps you stand up. He dusts off the sand on your back as you shake your head, trying to get the sand out of your hair. 

He laughs, clearly entertained at the sight. 

“Instead of laughing, you could lend a hand,” you say. 

“Apologies Your Highness, allow me to assist,” he says, before gently running his fingers through your hair, ridding it of any leftover sand.

“Alright, it’s gotten late. We should head inside now.” Rafayel says.

You expect him to untie the blindfold, but instead, you feel his hand entwine with yours.

“Are you not going to remove the ribbon?” you ask. 

He chuckles, before saying, “Trust me, Your Highness. I will get you back safe and sound.”

Hand in hand, he leads you the rest of the way.

You hear the tent flap open as he leads you in. He lets go of your hand, and you hear what you suppose is him tying the entrance closed. You just stand in place, not wanting to trip over anything while blindfolded. You don’t remember if you both managed to clean up the place before going out to train.

Footsteps come up from behind you. You tense, unsure what would happen next. 

Rafayel just takes your hand again, leading you further in the tent. 

“Sit down,” he says. “Don’t remove the blindfold just yet,” he adds for good measure.

You let him guide you to sit on the bed. He lightly presses on your shoulder, telling you to move further back. The sheets ruffle from the movement. 

You feel the bed dip down lower and assume Rafayel sat on it as well. Hearing the sheets rustle, you can tell Rafayel is getting closer. The movement stops once you feel his knee touch your thigh.

You suddenly feel his breath grazing your lips. Your caught between your desire to move forward to get a taste or backward to let yourself think more clearly. But before you can make your decision, you hear him speak.

“Even in darkness, one must be able to pinpoint an enemy’s vital points with ease,” Rafayel says.

He grabs your hand and places something cold in it. You grip the object. It’s smooth and relatively light. It seems the lesson was going to continue.

“With a weapon, only some strength is needed to wound the stomach.” 

He must have handed you a dagger. Not knowing if it was sheathed or not, you carefully bring the hand with the weapon back to your side. Shifting your position so that you were kneeling before him, you hesitantly bring your other hand to lay over his body. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel his muscles ripple beneath your hand. 

You have a fleeting thought of regret that there was fabric between your hand and his skin. 

He said to wound the stomach, but you aren’t sure what part of him you’re touching. 

“The chest?” Rafayel kindly gives you an answer.

You move your hand side to side trying to get your bearings. His chest was so wide you couldn’t tell if you were on the side or in the middle of it.

You hear him gasp and feel his muscles tense as you run your hands over a bump on his chest.

“Not there. Your Highness needs to go lower. It will be a fatal blow if you stab there.”

You reflexively tighten your grip, memories of Rafayel bleeding from his chest flooding your head.

“It ensures one’s victory.” He continues.

His warm hand covers yours, giving it a light squeeze before letting go, as if telling you to continue.

You slowly move your hand up, feeling the border of his tunic turn into smooth skin. 

You hear him inhale deeply when your skins connect. 

As if mesmerized, you forget the goal of the lesson and continue moving your hand up. Over his shoulders, his collarbone, and ending up over his adam’s apple. 

You lightly feel his pulse beating beneath your hand. Telling you he is alive. No longer stuck between life and death due to your careless mistake. You mindlessly press your fingers further into his skin, hoping to feel his pulse more clearly.

“The throat is also a vulnerable area.”

His voice startles you. Realizing you might have put too much force in your grip, you loosen your hand but keep it hovering over his skin. 

“Scared?” He asks.

You’re unable to say anything back. You try to fight any conjured up images of him being hurt.

Just as you try to think of something to distract yourself, you feel his hand cover yours once more.

“Never mind, Your Highness’s hand is slightly cold.” He says worryingly. He gently rubs his thumb on the back of your hand.

“Try to do what I just said.”

You let out a small breath, banishing the unnecessary thoughts. What were you supposed to find again? Right, the stomach.

You move your hand downward, going back over the rough fabric. 

You hear him exhale right by your ear as you slide your hand further down. His muscles tense and untense, creating a rhythm with his breathes, following the trail of your gliding hand. 

You get to a point where you can feel light grooves partitioning several muscles. You stop your hand, hesitating on your next move.

“It’s the correct spot, but Your Highness’s hand still hasn’t moved,” Rafayel says.

“An assassin wouldn’t be this slow.” He teases.

You rolled your eyes underneath the blindfolded. You adjust your grip on the dagger and move the hand a bit closer. But you still hesitate to make the final move. 

Instead of bringing the dagger up, you move the hand on him, trying to find the best spot. However, you get lost in the feeling of his abdomen expanding with each breath. 

Rafayel waits patiently and quietly, which is a first for him.

“Carelessness leads to an assassin’s death,” Rafayel says.

You clearly spoke too soon.

If that’s how he was going to play it, you decide to tease him back. 

You move your hand to the side slowly. You feel the heat from his abdomen transfer to your palm. As you keep moving to the left, you start to feel a curve, stopping once your palm is at his hip. 

“No, that is not it either,” He says, unaware of your purpose.

You give a coquettish squeeze, reveling in the movement of the muscles beneath. 

Rafayel sighs loudly. You tense when you feel something tickle your ear. It’s almost feathery. His breathes are more clear as he has gotten closer to you. 

You decide to get more bold and slide your hand back down 

He gasps in your ear. Your desire to see more of his reactions builds your confidence, but before you can go any further, your playful touch is halted.

“Um… stop right there.” Rafayel grabs your hand tightly.

He chuckles, breathless.

“As a rookie, Your Highness’s courage is commendable.”

You can’t help but smirk at his remark.

“Yet does a simple blindfold excuse a person’s brazenness?” Rafayel says, his voice getting closer with every word, until he’s speaking right into your ear.

Startled, you move back to sit on the balls of your feet with your knees still on the bed. 

“Your Highness didn’t do it on purpose?” he asks teasingly, still holding your hand in place. 

“Of course not. All I did was listen to my teacher’s instructions,” you say innocently.

He lightly huffed in amusement.

“Your Highness’s acting is lackluster when it comes to being clueless,” Rafayel says.

He finally lets go of your hand allowing you to sit more comfortably.

You hear some shuffling on the bed, but can’t tell what Rafayel was doing. 

You flinch when you suddenly feel a touch on your other hand. The dagger is taken away from you. He probably is putting it away. 

You guess the “lesson” is over. But just when you’re about to ask for him to remove the blindfold, you hear him speak.

“It’s fine,” he says.

You tilt your head towards his voice. A hand comes up to your shoulder and before you realize what’s going on, you feel your back coming into contact with the bed. 

The sheets rustle around you and you feel a presence over you. 

“I forgot to mention. A good assassin must be able to counterattack.” Rafayel says laughing.

Shocked, you lie there for a second processing what just happened. 

Then you start fighting back.

“Rafayel, you!”

You raise your hands and they immediately make contact with Rafayel’s chest. You put pressure on him hoping to take control of the situation.

He laughs as your weak attempts to push him off. Instead of getting off, he draws even closer.

“Is Your Highness prepared for the next lesson?” He whispers in your ear.

You swallow at his words, finding yourself heating up at the thought of what was to come next.

[5eraphim]

could you write something about Scout with a breeding kink please?? i don't usually see a lot of fics like that when involving him, also maybe some angst too and slight yandere aspects?? only if you're comfortable ofc!! my friend recommended your blog to me :3 ((if they're reading this, i want them to know that i think they're smelly.))

it's spooky season so i'm answering this for werewolf!scout from the monster mash au. (this is a little drabble i wrote about werewolf scout's backstory, you don't really need to read all of it, but for context- scout and reader were childhood friends, but after reader moved away scout seizes the opportunity to get back with "the one that got away") now he's forced reader to live as his mate. not much difference from human scout tbh, it's just spiced with a bit of tetro and full-moon-intensified-horniness, the emotional core/angst of the story is more about his issues regarding family/loyalty/responsibility. i hope that's all good with you, thank you so much for the request!

Title: Puppy Eyes

Character: Scout 🐇 (Team Fortress 2)

Rating: X (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! GO PLAY OUTSIDE!)

Content Warnings: dubcon, breeding kink, yandere, tetro (mild), full moon horniness, mating press, AFAB reader, exophilia, fingering, dirty talk, abandonment issues/daddy issues scout, scout drinks reader's sweat? if that's anything?

Word Count: 3.5k

MASTER LIST

TIP JAR

"I never wanted to kill. I am not naturally evil.

Such things I do, just to make myself attractive to you.

Have I failed?" Morrisey, The Last of the Famous International Playboys

(post 2/31 of my version of kinktober where i write whatever i want for every day of october <3)

"I-I know it's a lot- but fuck! C'mon, stay with me, just a lil more!" How many times had you heard that line tonight? You already lost count. It was so late out, the summer night sky crystal-clear as the full moon and starlight pooled through the open windows bright enough to illuminate the entire room. But you didn't want to see; all you wanted to do was bury your head under the pillows and sleep, despite knowing there was a significant chance you wouldn't get more than a wink of sleep tonight. 

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon! I-I'm almost there! Keep goin'!" Scout continued to try and push you on. His voice had gone hoarse and sounded winded, but he was close. You could feel his knot building, a sensation even now after so many rounds you couldn't determine to be sickening or erotic. Even if you tried to tell yourself it was gross, you'd already come twice feeling Scout grinding it against you, forcing you to lay on your belly under him with your knees bent while he humped you with his briefs still on. He was excited and wanted nothing more than to get right to pounding you into the floor, but even he couldn't entirely ignore his anxiety. It was your first night with him as a wolf, and if he messed up tonight, he knew it would take ages to make it up to you.

It was the first full moon the two of you spent under the same roof, and you knew it would be a rough night, but you had no idea Scout could be so insatiable. Scout was a braggart and a liar. When he told you about all the dirty things he fantasized about doing to you under the full moon, you thought he was trying to get a rise out of you. Needless to say, the countless hickies spotting your neck, shoulders, and tits, the bruises on your thighs and hips, and the ungodly overstimulation going on between your legs were more than enough to convince you Scout was being dead serious. Even before that, usually, Scout liked to dirty talk while he undressed you, liked to watch you get embarrassed and turned on, completely unable to hide it. But not tonight. As soon as Scout locked the door behind himself coming home, he practically jumped you, dragging you to the heaping pile of pillows and blankets in the middle of the bedroom floor you called a bed.

You'd be lying if you said it wasn't more than a little erotic to see someone so animalistic and primally lustful towards you. And though you weren't about to admit it, Scout didn't look half-bad in his wolf form. Even as a wolf, he was pretty lean, with a shaggy, deceptively soft blonde pelt and, of course, his big blue puppy eyes. Bright, excited eyes that lit up when you praised him, gave him attention, wound your fingers through his hair, anything- he couldn't get enough!

On the other hand, you were starting to fade fast and needed a break. Not only to replenish your energy, but you desperately needed to grab a towel and clean up a little. It was the full moon, and there was nothing on Scout's mind other than coming inside you, but given how many loads he was shooting off, you were physically incapable of keeping all of them inside. Resulting in sticky smears coating your back, thighs, and arms.

"Hang on, just- Jesus, Scout, will you let me get up? I just wanna wipe off a little sweat."You turned your back on Scout, about to head from the "bed" to the bathroom to grab a towel, when two clawed hands grabbed your arms from behind, keeping you in place, "I can help!" 

Before you could even ask what he meant by that, you felt the long flat of his tongue dragged over the back of your neck, collecting the wetness in his mouth before lapping his tongue out again to catch more. The feeling was terrible, but accompanied by the sound of "dog slorping" directly by your ear, made you cower forward to avoid another lick. "Scout, that's disgusting!"

"What? You taste amazing!" Completely uninhibited by your visible repulsion, he tried to lean forward for more while you struggled. 

You shouted, "Stop it!" Louder than you intended, and with a heavy sigh, he loosened his grip on your arms, allowing you to slip away, pulling away from the bed in the process, trying to ignore the light scent of dog breath clinging to your back. Scout sat back on the bed, pouting and fidgeting restlessly, visibly unhappy to see you resisting his advances. "Not tryna gross ya out-, y'know I can't help it!"

He was right, and it was tough to stay mad at him when he gave you puppy eyes, but you were too physically exhausted to let him pull you back right back into bed. 

A voice in the back of your head scolded you for having any kind of sympathy for the monster who held you captive and insisted the two of you were meant to be mates. This wasn't close to a healthy relationship, but Scout wasn't human. How could you expect him to know how to treat you like one? 

Hugging your arms around your naked body, you stepped back, "Let's just take 10, alright? Just let me get some fresh air, maybe something to drink?" 

And in the blink of an eye, Scout's ears perked up again, his tail swishing against the blankets on the floor, "You wanna snack break?" 

Nodding, you smiled a little, "Yeah, I'm just gonna take a step outside, alright? I'll meet up with you right after." 

He nodded, standing until he was towing over you. As he passed by to leave the bedroom, he put a paw-like hand on your shoulder, "Don't make me come getcha, alight?"

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you made a noise of affirmation, watching him head over to the kitchen while you pulled a loose blanket around your naked body before stepping outside to the fire escape and sitting to look up at the sky.

It felt nice to step away from the dank and musky-scented apartment, even if it was just for a few minutes. Everything leading up to tonight felt so overwhelming and confusing. You knew the first full moon you spent with Scout would be rough. And by God was it ever. You could already tell your poor, overstimulated body would be incredibly sore by morning, assuming you could get any sleep tonight, that was.

For about a month now, you were living like this, but counting the days as they passed while in captivity was difficult. The only measure of time you had at your disposal was the phases of the moon and its effect on Scout. Though it wasn't all awful, there were always those rare evenings he would offer to spend out with you. Sitting outside alone, you thought back to one specific evening out with Scout. The night he took you out to meet his mother.

Honestly, you never thought you'd hold much sympathy for the mother of the man who was planning on keeping you as his "mate." Forcing you into captivity with the final intention to make you into a monster like himself. You only agreed to meet up with him at his Ma's place for dinner because you wanted any excuse to get out of Scout's apartment. You'd bargained with him, agreeing to meet him at his mother's place for a few hours of freedom before dinner.

You never thought he'd grant you independence like this, but something about promising to willingly go with him to meet his Ma made his entire face light up with excitement. 

During those few precious moments away from Scout, you didn't even think to try and run away. It was impossible to try and escape a master predator who could track you down in a matter of minutes, and even if you could get away, what was to stop him from hurting your loved ones to get back at you for the betrayal? Instead, you simply enjoyed some fresh air, went for a long walk, and mentally psyched yourself for dinner. 

The walk to Ma's house felt nostalgic in a melancholic way. You could remember racing over to Scout's house as kids, how his Ma said the door was always open for you. She was beautiful, always kind, and made you feel at home. You couldn't understand why you never saw her husband around. But you knew better than to bring something like that up, especially whenever Scout was around.

When you showed up, you expected to see Scout open the door to greet you. But when you knocked on the front door, you heard someone from inside calling out, "It's open!" 

Timidly, you creaked the door open, still unable to shake the feeling you were dreaming of childhood and would wake up any moment. Tiptoeing your way inside, you heard an old black and white television set playing some old British thriller, the sound just as muffled by static as you remembered. The flat was less cluttered than you remembered but maintained the warmth and coziness you never forgot. 

When your eyes met Scout's Ma, you momentarily forgot the resentment you expected to feel for her, overcome by the joy of seeing an old family friend after so long. She smiled at you, her face and figure softened by years, but she was just as stunning and distinguished as you remembered, nothing less than radiant. You watched her walk from the kitchen to greet you with a warm hug, welcoming you with parental affection as though you were one of her own. For just a moment, you held onto her, suddenly choked up, realizing you could now meet her at eye level.

She pulled away gently, "Good to see ya again."

Taking a slight step back, you cleared your throat, "I apologize; I must be a bit early. I thought Scout would be here by now." You felt a touch awkward, trying to figure out what to do in the absence of Scout.

She turned to walk back to the kitchen, talking to you from over her shoulder. "He was. I sent him out for an errand run. I didn't want the boy smothering ya as soon as I walked in. Can ya come help me set the table?" 

You followed her through the kitchen, "You sent him out?" 

Scout's Ma chuckled, making you freeze up a little, taken aback by how eerily similar Scout sounded when he laughed, "He's been talkin' my ear off all damn day. I just wanted a lil peace and quiet. Can ya blame me?" 

Walking into the kitchen, you could see the small but delicious-smelling meal she prepared for the three of you to share already laid out on the table. You tried to force yourself not to stare and focus on helping her finish setting up. Still, Ma could notice you were distracted, staring off into space, caught up in your own memories. She grinned, "My boy cleaned up the place before you got in. Bless his heart, I ain't ever seen him so determined to clean all his life."

You bit down on your lower lip, unsure how to respond, keeping your gaze fixed on your hands as you laid the silverware down. Did she know about Scout keeping you like a prisoner for nearly a month now? Did she have any idea how dangerous her son really was? You had no idea. "I never thought he'd bother with that sort of thing."

You could see Scout's Ma looking up at you from your peripheral vision, but you didn't have the resolve to meet her eye. "He cares about ya. He's always cared more than he wanted anyone to know."

"So she does know?" You wondered, somewhat confident she knew much more than she was letting on. Looking at her cautiously, you took a seat. "I'm not sure I believe that. Scout's never been the "caring" type… No offense."

She had an odd, far-off look on her face as she nodded, taking a seat by you. "I understand why you'd think that. But he's been through so much; it's not easy for him to love. Not without fear."

Your brow creased, "I don't think I understand." 

She sighed through her nose, looking past you, out the window to the street beyond. "When Scout was a little boy- Every day I told him I loved him. Every day, I patched up that boy's scrapes and made sure he made it home safe every night. And he'll always be my little boy... But I can only do so much for him, y'know?"

Trying your best not to sound nosy, you responded, "What do you mean by that?"

Ma's jaw tightened slightly, her piercing eyes finally meeting yours, "I couldn't make his father stay, for one thing… And I sure as hell couldn't stop him from getting into trouble." 

"So she does know…" You thought, though, for some reason, you couldn't bring yourself to hate her as you thought you would. Scout's Ma couldn't control the guy any more than you could. You tried to lighten the mood a little, offering a weak smile, "Scout's a grown man now. He can handle himself just fine."

She folded her hands across her lap, sitting back in her seat a little, as though deep in thought, and trying to choose her words as carefully as possible. "Scout's a man now, but when his father left- I don't think he ever came back from that."

Leaning forward a little, you rest your hands on the table, "I thought he never knew his father?"

She nodded, "That's what he always said. I think it was the easiest way for him to cope with the disappearance." 

You were about to express your condolences, feeling quite overwhelmed with the new information, but she continued, "I can still remember how he would pretend to go to sleep, waiting to see his father again… I never had the heart to tell Scout his father was never coming back… And to be honest, without you, I think he would still be waiting."

Stiffening slightly, you asked, "What do you mean?"

Finally, she was able to look you in the eye again, appearing much less lost in her own thoughts, "I don't know how to put this, but I think the day he stopped waiting, that was when he made up his mind to become the father he never had." 

You seriously hated how much sense that made. 

Scout's Ma reached across the table, squeezing your hand with hers in a gesture of sympathy. "And there was something about the look on his face when he told me you were back in town… I think he always wanted it to be you."

You nodded. As much as you were terrified by Scout's obsession with you, the idea he'd felt this way since childhood never even occurred to you. She continued, "Believe me, I've seen him chase plenty of girls- but it was nothin' more than foolin' around, you know? Like he was waitin' for you to come back. It's like he always believed you two were meant to be."

Ever since that night, you could not get that one phrase out of your head, "As though it were meant to be…" Even now, the mere thought of it pulled at your heartstrings, doubting you had any chance to escape your destiny. Slipping back inside, you let the blanket fall from your shoulders as you sat back on the little blanket pile by Scout while he shotgunned Bonk with one hand, holding a protein bar in the other. 

Scout allowed you to settle by his side before wrapping an arm around you to pull you closer. Eating seemed to mellow him somewhat, and he wasn't nearly as grabby with you as you nestled into his soft pelt. 

The wholesomeness of the moment didn't last long. As soon as Scout finished his drink, he tossed the can aside, nuzzling closer, looking at you with expectant eyes, "So you wanna…"

You met his eye, "I think I can do one more round…"

That incentive was all he needed before he was back on top, smearing your neck and chest with messy, open-mouthed kisses while he fumbled for a moment, trying to re-find his position against your body. With a bit more force than he intended, Scout pushed you back down on your back, lifting your legs with his arms. Scout got properly situated between your legs, practically shivering with excitement. "Alrighty then! One more round- gotta make it count!"

Feeling that all too familiar swelling at the base of his cock, you winced as he sunk his claws into where he was holding you up by your thighs.

For a moment, he was distracted, groping the soft skin of your thighs with his fingers, making you moan, trying to recapture his attention, "Scout- c'mon please-" A little breathy plea and sleepy bedroom eyes were all it took before Scout could feel his blood rushing straight to his cock, making it throb while his mouth began to salivate.

"God, you look hot as fuck like that!" He was already aligned to penetrate, and you felt your oversensitive nerves forced against his overheated body. "I will never get sick of seein' ya like this- Ya drive me fuckin crazy, y'know that?"

"Scout, just a little more; I can take it!" You tried to keep urging him on, but as soon as he began pushing inside, you felt your head rolling back as you forced yourself to stay nice and pliable for him. A task easier said than done. But even horny out of his mind, Scout could see you were trying your best to hang on for him and make the last round count. 

You were so good to him like that. Scout was so proud to finally call you his girl that he could hardly take it. "I'm gonna make you real proud, I promise! I'm gonna give ya a baby, a-and more! Fuck, we'll have our own pack goin' in no time!"

It was harder to follow along with what he was saying as he picked up speed, his words getting muffled by his growling and wild panting. While you felt your body being used like a toy in his crushing grip. His feral lust and size made your head spin, and as he continued to grind himself against your clit you felt another intense pressure building at the base of your spine. A pleasure which you tried desperately to ride out but hardly could on account of being unable to move against the monster above, but even without being able to stimulate yourself, once you felt his knot building up deep inside, making you come just a few intense thrusts before Scout. Forcing the two of you to remain connected until the swelling went down entirely, Scout took this opportunity to lap apologetically at some of the more intense bitemarks and bruising left on your neck.

You thought you could finally relax when you felt him finally pull out, only to be caught off guard by the feeling of his clumsy fingers trying to force the comeback inside of you without accidentally tearing you apart with his claws. Though, given the night you just endured, you doubted a few more lacerations would mean anything at this point. 

By now, your mind and body felt like two entirely different entities. You could feel a kind of queasiness of being overly filled by Scout, feeling so full you felt paralyzed from the navel down. You wouldn't be surprised if your body was rubbed bright red after hours of overstimulation, though you took immense comfort knowing the long night of passion was coming to a close. Now that Scout agreed to concede for the night, you weren't too scared to snuggle up closer to share body heat for fear of getting roped into "just one more round." 

Scout was too tuckered out to think of asking for any more, and he felt more spent than ever before, the sensation as exhausting as it was euphoric. He watched your limp body latch onto his chest, grinning like an idiot, feeling your fingers getting lost in the dense fur of his pelt. Better than making love under a full moon after dreaming of this his entire life, being able to hold you close made his heart swell. Scout felt so protective to keep you close like this. Cradling you, his baby, while you held a baby of your own, or so he liked to think.

Even though he knew you were probably already asleep by this point, Scout pressed his forehead to the top of your head, whispering, "Ma loves ya, and she's been on my back asking' about grandkids… I'm not tryna pressure you or nothin', but- I mean, I just wanna say- you're gonna fit in perfect with the rest of the family. I know it."

Even if you couldn't hear him say it, to say all that out loud while holding you close felt like a dream come true, and he knew there was nothing he wouldn't do to protect this dream.

[freezingmcxn]

i feel so annoying asking this but could you rewrite the ask about jack toby and jeff finding someone who is dying in the forest? that was such a cool concept and i’d love for you to go into more detail because it would say a lot about the character and stuffs :3

also i’m so sorry if this is annoying or rude to ask!! im not even the person who sent in the ask but it just sounded so cool

FINDING A PERSON DYING IN THE FORESTS (CRP AU)

I wanted to rewrite it correctly cause I felt so bad but YEAH HERE IT IS

Tw: mentions of dying, sadism, solipsism, Jeff is actually insane.

JEFF

The extent of your suffering determines how Jeff responds.

If you’re barely clinging to life, he’ll simply watch and stare intently as he crouches to your level, grinning as he revels in your pain like a monster.

The moment your eyes dim and the life drains from you fills him with twisted delight, he might stroke your face or hair gently or place his head on your chest and feel you stiffen, hear your inner silence .

While you might expect him to deliver a final blow to a dying person, Jeff prefers to continue the torment as long as possible.

For him, killing quickly would rob him of the satisfaction he craves and searches for in victims.

Suffering.

He thrives on your suffering because it makes him feel superior.

His solipsism drives this need, he believes that by watching you die slowly, he holds the power to claim your soul and send it to whatever version of heaven he has in his head.

TOBY

Toby won’t get help for you, it’s far too risky for him.

But, he won’t turn a blind eye to your suffering. He’ll sit beside you, listening to your ragged breaths and quiet moans, offering hollow reassurances.

He’ll crack jokes, try to distract you with meaningless conversation, but he won’t actually lift a finger to save you.

You might not respond, too focused on the agony consuming you, and Toby won’t push.

Deep down, he knows it’s pointless.

In his mind, this place, the one where you’re trapped in pain, is where you belong… not in a sadistic way, more so in a way where he knows the world is cruel, you are nearing peace, he shouldn’t interfere.

When he finally hears your breathing stop, he’ll stand up, brush himself off, and walk away.

Part of him wishes he could do more, but in the end, Toby cares about himself far too much to act on these wishes.

(Y’all hate how I write him but I can’t help it)

JACK

He quietly panics when he comes across this, his eyes lock on your chest as it falls and struggles to rise again.

He uses his knowledge of first aid, desperately wrapping wounds, giving CPR if needed.

The isolation of the forest weighs on him, help might come too late.

Still, he lifts you with all his strength and carrying you as close to the outskirts as possible.

Each time you whimper or gasp in pain, he murmurs soft reassurances, trying to keep you calm even as he feels your body getting heavier.

When he finally reaches the edge of the woods, he sets you down carefully and watches from a distance as people rush to call 911.

Swallowing hard, he counts the seconds until the ambulance arrives, his eyes fixed on the flashing lights.

Only when you’re safely inside the ambulance does he let out a sigh, but the knot in his stomach remains, lingering through the night, the day and probably the next week.

Hopefully this was interesting, thanks for the ask :))

[porcelainmortal]

Several Sentence Sunday

Thank you @onthewaytosomewhere @tailsbeth-writes @cha-melodius @thesleepyskipper @iboatedhere for the tags today!

Exes to lovers incoming (I promise this fic is almost done)...

Henry heads into work Tuesday morning with his chin held high. He’s going to bloody fake it until he makes it today. Work is not his priority, though he doubts he’ll get much done anyway. Today, Henry is determined to talk with Alex and figure things out, one way or another. He finds him in the break room at his usual time, focused on pouring his coffee when Henry walks in. Alex looks up when he hears the door, his entire face changing when he sees who it is. “Henry,” he breathes.  “Alex,” Henry replies, attempting to keep an air of professionalism. There is a woman from finance – Henry can’t, for the life of him, remember her name – putting her lunch away in the fridge. He smiles tightly at her as she greets him and walks past him out the door. He stands there, twisting his hands. Alex’s wide eyes have not left his face. “Erm… I was hoping to find you here, actually.” “Oh?” Alex sips his coffee casually, but Henry can see his hand trembling. He puts the mug back on the counter and stirs it some more. “I was hoping that you might come over to mine tonight after work. I would like for us to talk.” Henry rehearsed those two sentences all morning while he got ready for work. Nailed it. “Oh,” Alex replies. “I guess so. Sure.” He sounds uncertain, even as he’s nodding.  Henry smiles brightly, but it feels shaky and his stomach is in knots. He hasn’t even had his tea yet this morning for how nervous he’s been about seeing Alex. “Brilliant,” Henry replies, as if that’s a word he normally uses. “Then I’ll see you later.”

It's nearly 11pm here, but time is fake. Super soft tags for:

@anincompletelist @anchoredarchangel @blueeyedgrlwrites @bitbybitwrites @caterpills

@cricketnationrise @firenati0n @faketrex @getmehighonmagic @hgejfmw-hgejhsf

@inexplicablymine @kiwiana-writes @myheartalivewrites @priincebutt @rmd-writes

@sparklepocalypse @stellarmeadow @theprinceandagcd @thighzp @wordsofhoneydew and as always, an open tag!