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watermelonlovershigh · 26 days ago

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A Week in the Life with a Broken Foot {part. 17} (housemate!harry series) (FLUFF/SMUT)

A Trip to the ER {part. 16} (housemate!harry series)

AN: i'm really sorry this took so long. this is the longest chapter yet in this series and combine that and the passing of liam, it took longer than i intended. anyways, hope you enjoy and please leave your feedback. next chapter is gonna be very smutty.

This story contains: broken foot obviously, crying, fingering of vagina, brief implications of somnophilia, handjob, attempting sex (but failed), fluff, comfort

{ housemate!harry - boyfriendrry - soft!harry - teacher!harry - au!harry }

word count- 4,764

After breaking your foot on Monday, the first week of your recovery has its ups and downs, but Harry is with you every step of the way.

Harry has been an absolute saint ever since you broke your foot in the shower. When you arrived home Monday evening with a fresh cast on your foot, Harry carried you inside and sat you on the comfy sofa. You asked him when you were gonna have to use your crutches, but he said not very often when he's around. Meaning, he'll carry you wherever you need to go within the house. When you go out in public or when he's just not home, you may have to use your crutches on those occasions and he'll eventually teach you how to use them properly.

Having ensured that you were comfortable on the couch, Harry quickly went to change out of his work clothes, which he hadn't had the chance to change yet since leaving work earlier in the day. After changing his clothes, he went to the kitchen to find a small snack for you to eat until dinner was ready. Although you weren't particularly hungry, he explained that it was essential to eat something with the pain medication you had taken in the car to prevent an upset stomach.

While you munched on some cheese crackers with your foot propped up on a pillow, Pixie resting in your lap, and the tv on some rubbish reality show, Harry started making dinner for the both of you. He had to admit that, after a day filled with adrenaline, he wasn't particularly hungry himself. Still, he recognized the importance of eating something light before going to bed. Plus, any leftovers would be great for the next day when he might not be in the mood to prepare a meal.

Harry decided to prepare your favorite, chicken alfredo. You had gathered all the ingredients during your grocery shopping trip last week, which meant he could whip it up in no time. While cooking, he often glanced into the living room to ensure you were still okay. You eventually had to tell him that you appreciated his concern but would let him know if you needed any assistance. His attentiveness was becoming somewhat overbearing.

After dinner was completed, he prepared two plates and took them to the living room. Harry thought it would be far more practical for you to stay on the couch instead of trying to eat at the table with your large cast, and he was indeed right. Whenever your foot touched the floor, a jolt of pain traveled up your leg. You found yourself wondering how you'll cope when Harry leaves for work each day.

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As the night drew to a close and you finished your meal, Harry offered his assistance in helping you bathe before he entered the shower himself. Since your cast couldn't get wet, you sat on the closed toilet seat while he carefully washed your skin with a soapy cloth. He made every effort to rinse you off adequately from your position and dried you before helping you change into your sleepwear. Although he planned to carry you to bed before showering himself, you insisted on staying in the bathroom with him.

"You just want to see me naked!" Harry said as a snarky remark.

As he entered the shower, white bum facing you, you replied sarcastically, "No, I just don't want to be alone, but also..... maybe I enjoy the view of my naked housemate."

"Boyfriend!" Harry shouted from behind the opaque shower curtain, taken offence that you called him your housemate. Though you once were just housemates, you were well beyond that title now.

Harry finished his shower while you remained on the toilet, waiting with patience. You may have occasionally glanced at him as he washes his body, unable to help yourself due to how attractive he was. As he exited the shower, you watched as he dried off and slipped into a fresh pair of black briefs.

After completing that, you allowed Harry to carry you to bed for the night. He selected your room because, if you needed to use the bathroom during the night, it's conveniently located straight across the hall. In contrast, his room is next to the bathroom but requires a left turn, which could lead to a higher chance of you accidentally hitting your foot on the doorframe or wall.

When you were finally able to lie down for the night, you realized the discomfort that would accompany you trying to sleep with a hard, thick, cast on your foot and leg. Typically, you and Harry would cuddle throughout the night, but the cast presented certain challenges with that routine. On a brighter note, you realized that he could still spoon you, which was a positive.

Harry's gentle fingers glided through your hair, lulling you into a state of sleep. Yet, this night proved to be different; instead of the typical few hours of continuous rest, the pain in your foot, coupled with the discomfort of the cast, caused you to awaken every hour. Each time, the soothing sounds of Harry's soft breathing helped you return to sleep, until you awoke again, then repeat.

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On Tuesday morning, Harry was up before you. Being aware of your lack of sleep the night prior, he allowed you to rest for as long as possible while he quietly got out of bed to take care of some business. After using the toilet and brushing his teeth, he went to the kitchen to start brewing coffee, followed by calling the school where he teaches at.

The headteacher (principal) answered the phone with a cheery tone, introducing himself and the schools name, not knowing it was Harry that was calling.

"Hi, Mr. Clarke, this is Harry Styles, a teacher there at ******* School. Yesterday I had to leave early because my girlfriend fell and broke her foot. Well she'll need someone to care for her for at least the first week of her recovery. So I was callin' to let you know I'll need to be out for a few days. I can stop by to give my substitute teacher instructions on what to do in my classroom if you'd like."

"Oh, hi, Harry!" Mr. Clarke spoke when he recognized one of his favorite teachers voices, "I'm sorry to hear that about your girlfriend. And yes, I'm sure we can figure something out with your class. Can you be here around eight? That'll give me an hour to find you a sub for the week and you can instruct them on what to do before your class arrives this morning."

Checking the clock on the stove, Harry replied, "Absolutely, eight sounds perfect. I'll see you then, Mr. Clarke." Following the conclusion of the call, he went about getting dressed for the quick trip to the school. His choice of clothing was not as formal as it would typically be for a teaching day, but it also didn't consist of his usual home attire, which included sweatpants and a t-shirt. Or just briefs if he's particularly hot.

After getting dressed in his own room, Harry decided to stop by your room across the hall prior to leaving and check on you. As he stepped into your bedroom, he noticed you sitting up in bed with a serious frown on your face and tears brimming your eyes. It dawned on Harry that you likely thought he was heading off to work for an ordinary full day.

"Don't want you to leave me." you muttered in a sad tone. You've yet to use your crutches and the idea of falling again while you're by yourself terrified you. Especially if your phone wasn't near.

Harry rounded the bed and gently sat beside you. "Baby, m'not goin' to work my normal shift today. M' just goin' to meet the substitute they're puttin' in my class for the week. Tellin' 'em what to do and all that. I'll be gone no longer then an hour, promise. Just keep your phone on you in case you need to call me for whatever reason."

"Wait, you called out of work? For me?"

Smiling gently, Harry cooed, "Well yeah, of course. You'll need someone to care for you for at least the first week. So m' gonna be out for about a week to stay home and take care of you. Until you can navigate somewhat on your own with that cast on your foot."

Tears welled up in your eyes again at his kindness. "I love you, Harry."

Harry giggled at your sweet confession before he leaned in to peck a kiss on your lips and responded back, "I love you too, Y/n. Do you need anythin' before I leave?"

"Yeah, can you carry me to the bathroom, please? Then take me to the living room to watch tv until you get back. And maybe.... um, give me one of my pain pills. My foot is killing me again." Harry nodded his head and carefully lifted you out of bed to bring you to the bathroom. While you sat on the toilet doing your business, he gave you privacy by getting the couch set up and placed a pill and a glass of water on the coffee table.

You ensured that you flushed the toilet before summoning Harry back into the bathroom to assist you in migrating to the living room. Once you were comfortably positioned on the cushions, with your foot elevated as per the doctor's orders, you took the pain medication. Harry offered you a granola bar to consume alongside your medicine. He then kissed you gently before departing, assuring you that he'd return soon.

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The remainder of Tuesday was relatively uneventful. You felt a growing sense of boredom from being cooped up indoors all day, but the recurring pain in your foot, which returned every few hours, made you reluctant to stray too far from home. Harry arrived back from school roughly an hour after he had left, just as he had promised. With it being a rainy day in London, he pulled the curtains shut and settled on the the couch next to you. You found a new series on Netflix and ultimately binge-watched the entire show by midnight.

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On Wednesday, a noticeable shift occurred. Although it wasn't necessarily bad, it was certainly an unfortunate development in your healing process. The shift in question? You found yourself becoming horny for the first time since your accident. Awakening to a throbbing sensation between your legs and you spent the first part of the day attempting to overlook it. In your efforts to ignore your horniness, you became more irritable, prompting Harry to believe that your mood was merely a result of the pain in your foot resurfacing.

When he asked what you wanted for breakfast, your initial thought was to say him. However, you chose to say oatmeal with fresh berries instead, all the while wearing a deep frown. After your meal, Harry wanted to know what you wished to do next. You considered saying something related to sex, but ultimately opted for watching another movie. The desire to alleviate the ache you felt between your legs was so strong, yet you were nervous about trying anything with your giant cast on, knowing it'll be in the way. Plus, you were afraid your cast might turn Harry off.

Mid afternoon is when Harry finally spoke up. For the past couple of hours he'd watched you toss and turn in your spot on the couch. He'd already asked several times if your foot was bothering you and you'd said no. So now he was genuinely confused as to why you couldn't keep still. "Baby, what's wrong? You sure it's not your foot? I can give you one last dose of your medicine tonight if you need some."

Exhaling in frustration, you came to the conclusion that it was finally time to confess, "Fine, I'm horny, Harry. That's why I keep fidgeting. I've felt this way since we woke up this morning." Your blatant honesty offers him comfort, knowing that your situation is one that he can easily fix.

Harry cackled out a loud laugh, startling Pixie who was sleeping on the arm of the couch. "Really? You've been actin' this way because you're horny? Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I just.... not that I'm embarrassed to tell you I'm horny but um, I guess I'm just nervous to do anything with my cast on. I know you said there's many options that aren't actual sex but still..."

Harry turned serious now, seeing how you're actually nervous to get physical since your accident. But you shouldn't worry too much because he has a plan. "Alright, slide your shorts and panties down and spread your legs f'me."

"Hm, what?" you asked, confused on what he was planning to do. Maybe he was gonna eat you out. You'd never be opposed to that.

"Just do as I said." You compiled by lowering your shorts and underwear, which formed a small pile on the floor next to the couch. Harry helped you by gently spreading your legs while you remained seated upright. Your injured foot was elevated on the coffee table, and your other leg rested over his lap. Just as you were about to ask how he would proceed in this position, you were interrupted by the feeling of his hand making contact with your pussy instead.

"Ohh!" you inhaled sharply as his calloused fingers started to make circular motions on your needy clit. He then moved his fingers downward, parting your lower lips and allowing your wetness to serve as a natural lubricant before returning to your clit. The pleasure was overwhelming, as it had been a long day of longing for this very touch.

Harry gave your clit a break for a moment and decided to wedge his middle and ring finger inside your pulsing hole. The thickness of his fingers caused you to throw your head back on the couch and moan loudly as he basically started to finger fuck you. His fingers drove all the way in, then pulled out just to his fingertips before repeating. His palm patted against your clit with each thrust, also giving that attention in a non direct way. You're sure the way Harry had his wrist turned to finger fuck you was uncomfortable for him, but you couldn't care less. All you knew was he was making you feel so good.

Squelching sounds begun to echo in the living room from how wet you were, and that sound alone turned you on even more than you already were. Harry begun curling his fingers up and gently stroking your g-spot, which had you nearly jumping off the couch. The only thing that stopped you was your big ass cast wrapped around your foot and lower leg. "Oh, right there, right there, Harry!"

Grinning, Harry asked, already knowing the answer, "Yeah, that feel good, baby? M' I makin' your pussy feel good? Hm?"

You reached down and grabbed onto his wrist, helping him finger fuck you harder, but also to help you stay grounded. "Yes, fuck yes! Feels so good. I'm about to come."

While staying sat beside you, Harry continued to fuck you with his fingers while he purposely grinded his palm into your clit for added pleasure. That's what sent you over the edge. Just seconds later, you came so hard that Harry thought you might cut his fingers off with how hard you were clamping down on them. He continued to curl his fingers up, stroking your g-spot, and stimulating your clit with his palm, until you couldn't take it anymore and forced his hand away. You were left panting, trying to come back to earth after having been elevated in the clouds for so long.

"Better?" Harry questioned curiously, referring to your horniness.

Still catching your breath, you nodded, "So much better."

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When Thursday morning came, you opened your eyes and felt some subtle pressure prodding against your thighs. Struggling slightly due to your cast, you shifted in bed and peeked under the covers, discovering that the object you felt poking you was Harry's morning wood. He seemed to be in a deep sleep, but you still wanted to help him out. Despite your physical constraints, you felt a strong urge to return the favor since he helped you out the day before.

Lying on your back, you reached out and gradually trailed your hand down Harry's soft tummy until it was met with the bulge in his briefs. You wouldn't have proceeded without prior consent; however, you and Harry have previously discussed your boundaries regarding sexual matters. Both of you agreed that it's okay to engage with one another while the other is asleep, knowing that neither would remain in a deep sleep for too long once the activities commenced. Therefore, it's not like you'd be completely unaware while the other person did as they pleased.

Your hand inched down and you proceeded to cup your hand over his hard cock, giving subtle pressure to help ease the discomfort you're sure Harry was in. You moved your hand in a gentle back-and-forth motion across the front of his briefs, observing as Harry slowly came to consciousness. The sensation that fully awoke him was your hand slipping into the elastic of his underwear, your hand making direct contact with his erection.

Harry jolted awake, momentarily taken aback by your touch, but quickly settled as you began to pump his cock in your hand. He raised the blankets to catch a glimpse of your actions. The sight of you jerking him off made his back arch off the mattress, his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. "Baby!"

"Does it feel good, Harry? Felt your boner against my thigh when I woke up and wanted to help you out."

Harry turned his head on the pillow to look at you. Through gritted teeth, he remarked in a slurred voice, "It feels amazin', m'love. Didn't 'ave to though. Would've been fine without this." Even while being pleasured, Harry's concerned about your well-being.

"Shush and let me make you feel good. Know we can't have sex right now but I hope this will do the trick." You retracted your hand to apply some saliva for lubrication, and while doing so, Harry removed his briefs and pushed the covers back. When you placed your wet hand back on his hard shaft, everything was visible now. Due to the bulkiness of your cast, you couldn't lie on your right side, but you turned your head to observe your actions and are very much aware of how your touch was affecting him. Seeings as he was falling apart from your slick strokes.

The rapid movement of your fist caused Harry's stomach to rise and fall with increasing speed, while his breathing became more ragged, accompanied by low moans that escaped from his parted mouth. This moment brought you back to the first time you gave him a handjob, when your relationship was still new and you were trying to take things slow.

You watched as precum started to seep from his flushed tip, prompting you to go faster with the movements of your hand, eager to lead him to his orgasm. Harry begun swearing, "Oh, fuck! Y/n, baby, shit! M' 'bout to come." He uttered a stream of curse words along with your name and terms of affection. You found it rather amusing to see Harry become so affected by your touch.

Abruptly, Harry's back lifted entirely from the mattress, his hands gripped the sheets tightly, toes curling, and a loud roar erupted from deep within his chest cavity. His cock pulsed in your hand before he finally came, releasing several thick streams of cum all over your hand and his stomach. Observing a man in such a raw and vulnerable state was, in your opinion, a remarkable sight, and you couldn't stop staring at him in awe.

Once the final drops of cum seeped from his sensitive tip, you carefully let go of his shaft and turned your attention to Harry's face. The tension in his facial muscles had diminished, contrasting sharply from the intensity he had shown during his orgasm, yet his eyes remained closed. His chest was still heaving, and his body trembled slightly. Given how hard Harry came, you didn't blame how his body was reacting.

After a few seconds, Harry became alert enough to speak. "Need to wake me up like that more often."

You tossed your head back with a chuckle. "We'll see, you eager boy. Let's get you cleaned up so we can eat. I'm starved." And by getting him cleaned up, you meant, he clean himself up because well, you can only do the bare - fucking - minimum in this stupid cast. You can't wait for it to be off.

Harry rose from his bed to retrieve a washcloth, intending to clean himself as well as your knuckles, which were stained with his jizz. He attended to his hygiene in the bathroom and brought a fresh cloth back to your bedroom, where he left you. Upon reaching the bed, he took your hand to wipe it clean, only to find that the cum on your fingers had vanished. "Um, where's the mess that was on your hand?"

You looked up at him, your eyelashes fluttered dramatically as you tried to come off as sweet and innocent. But when you licked your lips and softly said, "Mhm, I told you I was starving," you exuded anything but innocence. Harry might have wanted to be shocked by your act of licking his cum from your hand, but in reality, he's not. He was already aware that you have a dirty side to you.

"You nasty, nasty, girl."

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Harry's objective for Friday was to assist you in mastering the use of your crutches for the first time. After your accident on Monday, he had taken on the responsibility of carrying you around the house, but he was only off of work for one week. Despite him being concerned about leaving you alone, he was confident that teaching you to use the crutches would allow you to be more independent. So after spending the majority of the day procrastinating, you made the decision after dinner that he could finally help you practice walking with your crutches.

With your crutches secured in his left arm, Harry reached out with his right arm to assist you in getting off the couch. "Ready?"

Upon standing from the cozy couch, you murmured, "No, but I suppose we need to get this done." You steadied yourself on one foot as Harry helped to place the crutches under your armpits. You immediately felt the discomfort they inflicted on your underarms. Although equipped with a rubber cushion, it offered hardly any relief from the pressure on your underarm bones.

Once the crutches were placed under your arms, Harry stood beside you for support and instructed, "Okay, now try and walk."

You went for the first step but was left clueless on how to even use those things. "Um, do I, how do I....?"

"Basically, move one crutch forward, followed by the other. After completin' that motion, propel your uninjured foot forward while ensurin' that your injured foot remains elevated above the floor." Although Harry's instructions were somewhat confusing, you decided to follow his advice. Your initial attempt nearly resulted in a fall, but fortunately, he was beside you for support, placing his hands on your hips. The second step you took was more successful. "See, you're gettin' better already."

As you kept practicing around the empty space in the living room and down the hall, you groaned, "Yeah, but it's so uncomfortable, under my arms and it's hard to use my strength like this."

"I know, baby. It's gonna be a bit uncomfortable, but remember it's only temporary. Soon enough, your foot will heal and you won't be in a cast anymore. Then we can actually get out the house and do things again."

You made it all the way to the back door at the end of the hall before stopping for a break. "Yeah, like that date you promised."

"Yep, the date where I'll have you in those little vibratin' panties, edgin' you all - night - long."

"Ugh, stop talking about that or you're gonna turn me on."

Harry grinned knowingly, "Who said that was a bad thing."

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You practiced walking on your crutches a few additional times that evening before Harry helped you with your bath. In contrast to the first night after your accident, when he helped you bathe while you sat on the closed toilet, he has since used a waterproof covering for your cast, now allowing you to use the actual bath tub. Initially, you felt quite vulnerable having him take care of you like that, but as time passed, you grew more comfortable with his assistance. Plus truthfully, nothing could enhance your feeling of vulnerability more than when he walked in to see the aftermath of your slip that caused your foot injury. That was ten times worse than him casually bathing you.

After your bath and Harry's shower, you got into bed as you normally did. However, shortly after lying down, you voiced, "I wanna try having sex." The mention of that eagerly awaited date earlier in which Harry planned to tease and edge you all night, stirred your excitement, and you craved more than just hand or oral stimulation. You had not yet attempted having actual sex this week since having your cast on. Primarily because you believed it would be impossible, but then you realized you wouldn't know unless you tried.

Harry turned in bed to face you. "You sure? I don't want to hurt you."

You looked over at him and responded, "I mean, I wanna try. I don't know if it'll work or if it'll hurt, but we can see, if you want that is."

Harry agreed and begun getting you ready for sex, not knowing you were practically soaked already. He kissed and caressed your body until he made it to your panties. He had a sly grin from seeing how wet you were. Some of it was from the foreplay, but like you'd said, you'd been wet since this afternoon.

Once your panties were taken off and Harry's clothes were shed, you decided to attempt the classic missionary position, assuming it would be the easiest option. Unfortunately, that turned out to be wrong. The way Harry needed to position his knees was incompatible with the bulky cast on your leg. Each accidental bump resulted in sharp pains shooting through your foot. He wasn't even halfway in when you yelped in pain, having felt your casted leg being stretched beyond its limit.

Realizing that the current position wasn't going to work, Harry proposed, "Let's try spoonin'." He withdrew himself from your pussy and helped you lie down, positioning himself behind you. He made sure your injured foot was against the bed, rather than the foot and leg that needed to be raised over his hip. While he was able to penetrate you fully from this position, his legs kept accidentally bumping into your cast as he started thrusting, despite his attempts to avoid it, resulting in more pain in your foot.

"Ow, ow, please stop." Harry halted immediately, understanding that the discomfort was not stemming from the sex but rather from your foot, which was troubling you once more. Tears began to well up in your eyes as the realization dawned on you that sex just wasn't feasible with your cast on. "I'm sorry."

Pulling out for the second time, Harry sat up behind you and asked, "Why'r you apologizin'? Nothin' to be sorry for."

"Yeah but, I thought maybe we could have sex and obviously we can't. It's all my fault for breaking my foot."

Harry leaned down, hugging your upper body in his arms. "Shhh, it's okay. I told you the day you broke your foot, sex isn't our only option."

"I know and don't get me wrong, your fingers and mouth feel amazing, but is it so bad for a woman to miss her boyfriends cock inside her?"

Harry couldn't help but to giggle at your words. The next six weeks is gonna be hell on earth if you have to go without sex for that long. You just hoped by the end of it all, when you finally get to have sex again, it'll be ten times better after being deprived for so long.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

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slowd1ving · 6 months ago

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THIS CHURCH SURE HAS WONDERFUL ACOUSTICS! ✦ . 　⁺ MALLEUS DRACONIA NSFW

“I just miss my friends, I guess,” you admitted, tracing your fingers on the hem of the shirt as you spoke. “I just want to hold someone I know and let my sorrows melt away.” There was a brief pause as Hornton tilted his head slightly in thought. “Holding someone, will it make you happy?” in which a dragon and a human find comfort in each other warnings: amab!reader but no pronouns, nsfw, hurt/comfort, sacrilegious, explicit sex wc: 5.2k

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Cold night air swirled through the cracked windows of Ramshackle, stifling all hopes you had of a good night’s sleep. You could almost see your breath fogging up in the diabolically cold room; really, were you surprised Crowley hadn’t provided you with adequate insulation? Only Grim’s warmth at the foot of the bed gave you any semblance of heat - alas, it was simply not enough.

My toes are going to freeze off and roll away, you thought mournfully. Shivering, you stared up at the rickety ceiling, as if it would provide any other comfort. Slowly but surely, your thoughts turned away from Crowley’s nasty little shack he gave you to call home, and instead became retrospective.

Homesickness. It wasn’t just that you missed your room back home, and all the little oddities within. Friends. Comfort. You missed the casual touches of friends back home. The bone-crushing hugs you’d give, clinging on for dear life whenever you wanted. Holding hands with friends while hanging out; the skin-to-skin contact reminded you there were others with you.

Why did it have to end?

Sure, you had Ace and Deuce (maybe even Jack?) as your new chums, pals, bosom buddies, etc. It was nice to have friends in this odd place. But you longed for the familiarity that old friends carried; the lack of shared memories and touch with Ace and Deuce made them, quite frankly, mere acquaintances in your eyes.

Hollowness. That was what you felt at that very moment. It was unbearable. There were no tears to be shed, only a deep apathy for your situation. You supposed it wasn’t all that healthy, but it was probably your brain in shock.

What could you really do? Your teeth gnawed on your bottom lip as you shifted out of bed. You weren’t getting any sleepier, so the next best thing was to get some fresh air and maybe even water. Like a plant.

As you ambled downstairs towards the porch, you found your mind wandering to that boy with horns who often appeared by the porch of Ramshackle Dorm, who Grim had nicknamed Hornton. For whatever reason, the boy hadn’t taken offence to the name, though you supposed he did ask you to call him whatever you wished.

At least Grim hadn’t suggested something like Horny McHorn the Horned…

You shook the thought from your mind, mentally gagging. Would Hornton even be here at your porch tonight? A small part of your mind yearned for the comfort of another presence, even if it was someone you had only a handful of encounters with.

Quietly, you unlatched the front door (the poor thing almost keeled over with the slightest nudge) and slipped outside. Only the cold air greeted you; surprisingly, it was warmer out here than in your very bed (maybe it was the ghosts?).

Disappointment wormed its way into your stomach. It was silly. Hornton didn’t have an obligation to be here at all, so why were you feeling this way? You slunk onto the front step and sat down, wrapping your arms around yourself.

At least the cold air was slowly becoming refreshing? Or was this an attempt to gaslight yourself into making the most of this situation?

“Child of man, what has prompted your sadness?” a voice spoke from above, and you almost squeaked in surprise as you looked upwards to see the glowing eyes of Hornton.

“Hornton!” you scrambled to stand up, brushing off the rickety fragments of Ramshackle that no doubt clung to your sleepwear. “I thought you weren’t going to come.”

“I am here now,” Hornton’s patient voice seemed to have a touch of concern for your slightly dishevelled appearance. “Still, you have not answered my question. Would you like to talk about what ails you so?”

You met his eyes. His brows were drawn low in contemplation. It wouldn’t hurt to tell him, right?

“I just miss my friends, I guess,” you admitted, tracing your fingers on the hem of the shirt as you spoke. “I just want to hold someone I know and let my sorrows melt away.”

There was a brief pause as Hornton tilted his head slightly in thought.

“Holding someone, will it make you happy?”

“Yeah, it just reminds me I’m not alone?” the end of your sentence curled up into a question when you furrowed your brows trying to think of a good answer.

“Then-” Hornton took a step closer to you, gazing at your face. “-may I do the honours?”

Your eyes widened involuntarily. You hadn’t thought he’d actually volunteer to hug you, but it was a very pleasant surprise.

“Yes, please,” your voice came out a lot softer than you had hoped. He held out his arms (quite awkwardly, you had to admit). Your arms enveloped his upper torso, and your head fitted right into the crook of his neck.

You could feel his hands, almost fluttering with the amount of care he held within them.

“You can put them anywhere on my back,” you murmured with your eyes closed. A smile wriggled its way onto your face when you felt a light pressure on your scapula and upper spine. In response, you put more pressure into your hug, letting your strength create a comforting weight upon Hornton.

You felt him sharply intake air with the added pressure, before softening into your grasp. Sharp claws brushed over your back as he curled his hands slightly inwards to grip onto the back of your shirt.

He wasn’t cold, exactly, but he was pleasantly cool to the touch. Your body, pressed against his, could feel the rhythmic thump of his heart. Slow and steady. As you slowly breathed in, you could smell on him woodsmoke and what smelled like the wind during rainy autumn days.

Your hands slowly worked their way upwards before they settled higher on his spine, where his hair cascaded over your hands like an obsidian waterfall. You pressed even tighter against him, but not overwhelmingly so - whatever homesickness you had earlier slowly ebbed away.

Slowly, you began to pull away to take a breather. Hornton loosened his grip on your shirt and furrowed his brow at you before speaking.

“That was… nice,” Hornton stated. A rosy hue painted the tips of his pointed ears.

“Can I be selfish and request another hug?” Hornton continued, his eyes crinkling as he smiled down at you tentatively.

“Yeah, you’re really good at this,” you smiled back at him encouragingly, breath caught in your throat as he let out a little laugh. Burying the feeling, you pressed back into his body, allowing yourself to collect your thoughts before holding him tighter.

Who the hell allowed him to be so goddamn beautiful? You felt your pulse rise to an allegro. To make matters worse, Hornton wrapped his arms around you in a very similar manner that you employed when hugging. Such close proximity felt as though the two of you were becoming one.

Your heart almost jumped into your throat as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. You could feel his breath fanning out onto your collarbone. Gleaming onyx horns jutted out past your shoulder; really, every part of Hornton was perfectly polished.

His claws brushed against your back once again as he held you closer. An inkling of understanding trickled through your brain; he was also desperate to be held. Tentatively, one of your hands left its post at his spine and carefully made its way to the nape of his neck. You cradled the back of his neck, running your fingers through the hair on his scalp.

His breathing rapidly quickened against your collarbone, and you felt his pulse sync up to your own, the staccato beats assuring you in continuing your ministrations.

How long had it been since he had been held? From the snippets of conversations that had been about him, you had gathered that he was generally feared by the student populace and distanced from the outside world; it was definitely a possibility that he was touch-deprived, especially if he was someone in a position of high power or responsibility.

In response to your own contemplation, you simply locked your arms around him, making sure the pressure around him wasn’t going to be unpleasant, but rather like a weighted blanket. You felt him relax even more into the hug, and you mentally patted yourself on the back.

“Child of man..” his voice brushed against your throat, and you felt your face heat up. Surely he felt your pulse spike upwards? You stifled your shiver and looked down upon him. Piercing green eyes focused on you as you nervously swallowed.

“Yeah?” Whatever hopes of sounding composed were dashed as your voice almost warbled. At best, it was just shaky.

“Thank you,” Hornton’s voice reverberated with pure sincerity against your sternum. He was going to be the death of you, you thought. You took it as a cue to slowly disentangle your arms from around him as his head slowly raised.

“Can I..” his voice was laced through with hesitation as his eyes searched your face for an answer, even before he finished his question. Heavy heartbeats resounded through your entire body as you waited for him to finish.

“Can I kiss you?” Pause. Blood rushed through your entire organism. You could almost count the number of capillaries extending through your body as you suddenly rushed into a state of transcendent awareness. Goddamn. You couldn’t think straight, especially since he was still holding on to you.

“It’s alright if-” his voice was cut off when your fingers curled around his striped tie (really, why was he still in uniform?!) and pulled him closer. Your other hand gently made its way to his chin to guide him to you.

You heard his breath stutter as your lips brushed over his. Distantly, you were aware of his hands choosing to cradle the back of your head. He really was adorable; you smiled into the kiss ever so slightly as you deepened it, feeling him stiffen marginally.

Hesitation was clearly present in his kiss as you guided him through it. Your pace was languorous to allow him to adjust, especially when you opened your mouth. Sharp fangs brushed over your tongue as he opened his own mouth for you. Good.

Your eyes squinted open slightly in shock when you felt his forked tongue. Holy shit. He clearly felt your surprise, since his grip on the back of your head suddenly became more solid and his movements a lot more confident. Seemed like he had adjusted. Your hand trailed from his tie and settled on his waist, pulling him towards you while simultaneously pressing yourself towards him so he’d step backwards. His back pressed against the sturdy beam of the porch, and you could feel surprise radiating at your boldness.

“Mmph-” you saw his eyes flutter open when he gasped slightly at the impact. Once again, you could feel the corners of your lips tugging upwards into a smile, and he felt it too, since you could feel his eyes burning into you.

You pulled back to take a breather, watching a string of saliva connect the two of you. He was enraptured with it, with his cool lips slightly parted in what could probably be described as awe as he watched the thread bridging the distance.

His eyes flickered back to yours, watching for any sign of discomfort. When he found none, he tilted his head slightly. A question. You leaned in, sealing your answer. But instead of his mouth, you tilted his head sideways and pressed a kiss to his neck, loosening his tie to allow for a canvas for you.

“What-” his question was cut off by an exhale of breath that was suspiciously close to a moan when you lightly bit his pulse point, sucking on it to leave a bruising mark. “Keep- keep going.”

You were going to do just that. A burning trail of marks made their way from right under his ear to his collarbone, accompanied by his slightly strangled breathing. Your knee found its way between his legs, almost subconsciously, but it didn’t pull away as he sank down onto it slightly. Goodness, he really was eager.

Then again, so were you. Your body pressed further into his to hear his irregular breathing. Your mouth continued its feverish ministrations. All to further fluster him. The smugness almost creeped out of your pores with how satisfied you were feeling at that moment.

You could almost feel him slightly moving against your thigh, desperate for any sort of friction. Pulling back, you gazed at him with a shit-eating grin (one that was quickly stifled). His eyes were half-lidded with a sultry gaze, lips glazed over with spit.

“Do you want to continue this?” you asked him seriously. When he nodded, eyes still slightly hazed over, you frowned slightly, leaning in closer.

“Use your words, pretty boy,” you commanded, tilting your head. His eyes met yours, the sharp green gaze slightly softening.

“Please, I want to continue,” he said with a touch of desperation. His eyes flickered between your heavy gaze and your slightly swollen lips. You felt that shit eating grin almost rise again within you at this powerful being reduced to such a state.

“Do you have anywhere we can go?” you inquired, gesturing to the rickety building behind you. No doubt it would probably collapse with any sort of frisky activity.

“Yes, actually,” with that, Hornton pulled you close to him and a cloud of warm fireflies obscured your vision. You couldn’t see much, only his comforting presence pressed against you.

“Call me Malleus,” his voice brushed against your ear as the two of you were carried off to who knows where.You could almost hear his smile as you shivered slightly. “I would like to hear my name out of your mouth when you cry it out.”

You almost felt your jaw drop with his audacity. Strangely, that name was really familiar. Malleus. Malleus? That Malleus? Your brow furrowed, making connections between the rumours of the terrifying Diasomnia housewarden and the boy with horns next to you. Ah. You had just wrapped potentially the most powerful mage in this school around your pinkie finger.

Still, it was bold of him to assume he wouldn’t be the one crying out. The fireflies slowly began to fade out, and you braced yourself for wherever Malleus had taken you.

Hold on.

Was this a cathedral? Your eyes surveyed the abandoned building. Under the watchful eye of the moon, shimmering stained glass patterns cast themselves onto the stone and marble friezes. Some of the roof was missing, leaving dust motes to swim around languidly in the harsh streams of moonlight.

The altar before you was covered in a pristine white cloth, unmarked by blemishes. Beside it was a vase of freshly cut lilies. Who could’ve-

“I come here to think,” Malleus admitted to you sheepishly. He looked around the building with you. “I’ve been trying to tidy it up a bit, but it’s secluded enough that it can wait. The acoustics here are wonderful.”

You weren’t even surprised. Although, sex in an abandoned cathedral was a first.

“How sacrilegious!” your eyes widened with mock-incredulity. You didn’t give a shit, in all actuality. Carnal desire began to pump within your veins. You grabbed his arm and pulled him to the altar, smoothing the edge of the cloth against what could only be stone.

“Allow me,” Malleus pressed a chaste kiss to the edge of your mouth before lifting you up onto the cloth. You stared down at him, slightly amused by his boldness. What could he be planning? Your questions were answered as he gestured to your pants inquiringly. Was he going to suck you off?

With deft hands, Malleus undid the ties that held the pants to your hips, before tugging them off and letting them pool on the stone steps beside the vase of lilies. You watched in surprise as he ravenously stared down your boxers.

“Eager, aren’t we?” you crooned, feeling the pressure on your thighs tighten as he gripped them. Your words didn’t seem to register as he swallowed audibly. The piercing thralls of desire suddenly consumed you; wordlessly, you hooked a thumb around the waistband and pulled them down, hissing as the cool night air hit the skin of your dick.

You watched him observe your movements with the gaze of a predator, lustfully looking at your exposed skin. This time it was your turn to swallow audibly as he bent down between your legs and pressed a cool kiss to the soft skin on the inner thighs. His flickering green eyes held your gaze and you felt your face heat up as he smiled.

You leaned back, pressing your palms flat against the altar to attempt to quell your lust. His eyes never left your face as he kissed the base of your dick. You fought the urge to bury your face in your hands when he thumbed the slit, spreading the precum along the head, eliciting a small gasp from you. Malleus’ fangs flashed at you as he opened his mouth to suckle the top of your dick.

“Fuck,” you groaned, shifting onto one palm as the other buried itself in his hair. You could feel a low rumble in his throat at the action, which in turn stimulated you further. He began licking in earnest; you thanked whatever ancestor it was that gave him that heavenly forked tongue. Malleus looked divine like this, with the pale impressions of the stained glass upon his body.

Without warning, he took you in his mouth. The sensation of the cool saliva enveloping your dick was almost enough to make you scream, and you grabbed onto one of his horns without thinking. The action made Malleus stiffen, before a deep groan emerged from his throat.

“Good boy,” you praised him as he took you deeper, thumbing the ridges of his horn. So. They really were sensitive, you duly noted. Your gentle ministrations along the edges of his horn, coupled with your praises, almost gave him heart arrhythmia with how fast his heart was beating. And he knew you could feel his pulse through your thighs, with the way you smiled at him with that look in your eyes.

He quickened his pace with his mouth, wanting to hear more of those gasps and praises from you. You matched his tempo with his horns, grinning as you felt more vibrations of his groans on his dick. Could you make him come from just this? Your second hand raised from the altar to set on his other horn, mirroring your actions. His eyes squeezed shut with the pleasure, and you could feel more saliva than usual.

“Fuck, Malleus,” you groaned when he took you all the way down. His name on your tongue sounded absolutely divine echoing within the cathedral, and his dick throbbed within the confines of his uniform pants.

“I’m going to-” you cried out when he hollowed out his cheeks, feeling so absolutely tight. You saw white as you came in his mouth, and felt him swallow as best as he could. Fuck. He felt unbelievably good.

The taste of you on his tongue caused Malleus’ mind to go haywire as you kept stroking his horns. He felt his own climax fast approaching; desperately, he squeezed his thighs together for any semblance of friction.

“You did so good, Malleus,” your thumb wiped up some of the fluid leaking from the corner of his mouth, driving him over the edge. He released into his pants, feeling the fabric soil.

Malleus let out a strangulated moan as your dick left his mouth, and you blinked. Once. Twice. Surely he hadn’t.. You gazed down at the wet spot slowly spreading across his pants and grinned. Seems your earlier question had been answered.

“Did you come untouched? What a desperate little slut,” you cooed, lifting his face to yours by grabbing his chin with your hand. At your words, for some inexplicable reason, Malleus felt his dick twitch once again.

You pressed your lips to his, tasting the salt on his tongue as he eagerly opened his mouth once again. You left him chasing after you as you hopped off the altar, grabbing his hips to prevent him grinding against you to relieve that need for friction.

“In all due time,” you murmured, pressing a quick kiss to the marks you made on his collarbones earlier. Malleus’ eyes followed your motions as you tugged off his blazer and unbuttoned his pants. You could feel the tension as you ran your fingers across his poised abdomen.

In one swift motion, you tugged down his pants, exposing his skin. Yippee. Your eyes traced his figure, noticing his gaze lingering on your hands.

“Do you want me to continue?” you asked, enunciating every word. His eyes snapped back to yours.

“Please, touch me,” he begged you. Something about his desperation lit a fire within you. Who were you to deny his wish?

“Open,” you gestured to his mouth. With a quizzical look, he complied, allowing you to place two fingers in his mouth.

“Coat them,” you grinned as he obediently sucked on your fingers. Oh, you were going to enjoy ruining him. You took your fingers out of his mouth, turning him around to face the altar using his hips.

“Bend over,” you instructed, guiding his hands with your free hand to rest on the altar. He’d most likely need the support. Malleus complied with your request, upper body tense.

“Relax, I won’t bite,” you deftly pulled down his boxers, hearing him hiss at the frigid air. You traced circles on his ass with your dry hand, before using your spit-covered fingers to tease at his entrance. “Unless you want me to.”

You heard him gasp as your fingers slid into his tight hole. The ring of muscle didn’t offer much resistance as you allowed him to grow accustomed to the feeling. A grin wormed its way onto your face as you saw the sheen of sweat on his brow. You didn’t even know fae could sweat.

Before you could ask him if he was adjusted, you felt his hips try to rock on your fingers. That wouldn’t do.

“Ah-ah,” you tutted, grabbing his hips with your free hand. “Not so fast.”

Your fingers moved agonisingly slowly inside of him, rhythmically pumping in and out so as to not allow him to release too quickly. With an absolutely devilish grin, you located that sweet spot of spongy nerves inside him, pressing it with enough pressure for him to moan uncontrollably until the very rafters of the cathedral echoed the sound back.

You didn’t allow him to climax though, pulling away everytime he was close. The sight of him, panting beneath your careful touches, made you unbelievably horny. His expression was one of desperation when he looked back at you.

“Please, fill me,” Malleus gasped out as he was once again denied release. Who were you to deny that cute face? You slipped your fingers out completely, hearing him whine at the loss. You grabbed his chin and worked at the buttons on his shirt while kissing him feverishly. Once his shirt was open, you loosened his tie completely before pulling away. You swiftly slipped your own shirt off your body, allowing Malleus to drink in the sight of your bare upper body.

“Get up onto the altar,” you breathed into his ear, feeling your self-control on the verge of snapping as he shivered from the warm air. He easily climbed onto the spacious expanse of the stone slab, with you following. Using your hand to press him down until he leaned back onto his back, you grabbed his tie. You deftly pinned his wrists above his head, tying them firmly but not reducing any of his circulation.

“What are you-” Malleus’ question was interrupted by your sweet kiss to the side of his mouth.

“Let me take care of you,” your voice was hushed as you trailed kisses across his chest, using your fingers to play with his nipples. He let out a strangled moan at the new stimulation, driving him closer and closer to the brink. Before he could use it to get off, you pulled away with that teasing smile. Damn you.

Your eyes never left his as you leaned in above him, and all he could do was shut his eyes as he felt your dick rub against his. The friction was unbearably agonising; every time he tried to buck his hips upwards, you’d laugh and push his hips back down, before kissing his chest once again.

With a final kiss, you slipped the tie off his wrists. Malleus was left blinking at this sudden change in attitude, before you entered inside of him and he swore he saw stars. His back arched at the intrusion and you greedily drank in the sight. His unrestrained moans were like a heavenly choir to your ears. He was right, the acoustics were unparalleled here.

Transfixed, you gazed at your dick entering him again and again. The sound of skin on skin, of his moans and of the wet sloshing sounds was growing too much to handle. Your eyes half-closed in the pure bliss you were beginning to approach.

Malleus’ mouth was half-open with pleasure, his mouth leaking drool. His eyes were glassy with pleasure, and you knew his time was fast approaching. Your hands deftly angled his hips so your dick would slam into his prostate dead on. With the first collision, his back arched and hole tightened around you.

White ropes of cum shot from his dick, splattering torso and your abdomen. Malleus let out a string of broken moans as he climaxed, the overstimulation from your constant well-timed thrusts causing tears to leave his eyes.

“Just a few moments longer, Malleus,” you leaned over him, supporting yourself on your forearms. His hole fluttering around your dick was slowly driving you to your climax, and that long awaited heaven was going to arrive very soon.

“Please- please don’t stop,” Malleus sobbed out, his claws scraping down your back. The pain made you hiss, but you were interrupted by the wave of pleasure soon after.

“Do you want me to come inside you?” you groaned out next to his ear. “Do you want me to breed you?”

“Please,” Malleus babbled, calling out your name; your vulgar language made his dick stiffen once again. You could feel him beneath you, and your hazy mind registered this with a great deal of surprise. Maybe fae refractory periods were a lot shorter? Regardless, this was something you could definitely work with.

The obscene sounds below you were doing a number on you. Your mind creeped towards that blissful, all-consuming state.

“Please come in me,” Malleus’ words, coupled with your name being moaned out, drove you over the edge. Your mind hazed over as his insides were splattered white. The sensation of your warm fluids inside him drove him to his own climax, and he bit down onto your shoulder.

The sharp tang of your blood and the salt of your sweat made his dick twitch, before releasing more ropes of cum. His moans were mixed with incoherent babbling and praises, which only added to your blissful state. You were only distantly aware of the throbbing pain in your shoulder, which also quickly gave way to an overwhelming pleasure.

Your hips came to a slow stop. Malleus’ hands grasped the nape of your neck and he pulled you in for a heated, sloppy kiss, still rocking his hips on your overstimulated dick, milking you for all you were worth.

“Fuck, Malleus,” you moaned into his mouth as he greedily kept the friction going. Your mind felt as if it were about to break from the pleasure, though you could last a while longer if he still wanted to keep going. You moved your mouth to his horns, licking a strip at the base using the flat of your tongue while he kept rolling his hips.

The obscene moans he was releasing echoed around the stone ruins. You feverishly worked to absolutely reduce him to a mess as you suckled on one of his horns and used your hand to pump up and down for the other one.

You could feel his back arch and his hips stutter to a halt as he came for the fourth and final time. Hot rivulets of cum streamed from his abdomen and pelvis, and down your legs. He wore an absolutely fucked-out expression, with tears streaming from his eyes, swollen lips, and flushed cheeks. His normally sleek hair stuck to his face, strands coated in sweat. You noticed the dried blood, most likely your own, remaining on his fangs as his mouth was parted.

You were sure your expression was also one of fucked-out bliss. You didn’t want to pull out just yet, so you admired his beautiful face as he slowly opened his eyes.

“You were so good for me,” you murmured, using a finger to trace patterns around his nipples and chest. He gently grasped your wrist with a shaky hand and pressed a little kiss to your inner wrist.

“I’m going to pull out,” you whispered to him, rocking back. The friction caused Malleus to let out another moan, and you wished for nothing more than to hear his sounds forever.

Agonisingly slow. That’s the pace in which you moved your hips outward, so you could observe the cum gush out of him. You could only hear heavy panting and breathy moans leave Malleus as your dick slowly exited.

You looked on in ecstasy as you finally exited him completely and a thick, steady stream of cum left his hole. Malleus whined at the loss of your dick filling him up. Almost involuntarily, your fingers scooped up some of the mingling fluids, his and yours, and held them out to his mouth. You almost moaned with how eagerly he lapped up the juices off your fingers.

You slowly made your way off the altar, wincing at the rush of cold air against your bare skin. Picking up the discarded clothes, you were transfixed by the sight of Malleus gazing at you ever so tenderly.

“You were beautiful,” Malleus reached out for your hand, shivering as you took it. Wordlessly, you kissed each of his fingers, then the back of his hand, with his eyes on you the whole time. You could say the same about him, with his pale skin dappled with the radiance of the stained glass, glossed with the sheen of sweat.

“Let’s get cleaned up, shall we?” you helped him sit up and slide down the altar, mourning the soiled altar cloth. A flurry of fireflies is all that remained in the ruins of the cathedral, and even then, they slowly winked out of sight.

The bath at Diasomnia was already drawn for the two of you. How Malleus managed it was beyond you, though it was probably his magic. Regardless, it was a relatively straightforward clean-up.

Tomorrow, when he goes to his lessons, he’ll walk with a slight limp. No one will be any the wiser, save those who notice his carefully ironed collar conceals odd bruising marks.

#malleus draconia #malleus x reader #twst #twst x reader #male reader #gn reader #twst x male reader #amab reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #res ･ﾟ writing

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chuuyrr · 1 year ago

Text

WARM ON A COLD NIGHT — NAKAHARA CHUUYA

╰➤ CW(s): NSFW (soft + detailed smut), MDNI, f! reader, unprotected sex, slight overstimulation, praises, chuuya constantly calls you sweetheart, baby, and good girl.

╰➤ SYNOPSIS: in which chuuya finds you freezing cold in the middle of the night and provides you warmth

being able to sleep close to you every night is something nakahara chuuya could not ask for more.

he's already been away and busy for nearly an entire day thanks to his work as a port mafia executive, so returning home to you no matter how late it is a must to be with you again.

chuuya finds himself waking up in the middle of the night, just a few hours after he had gotten home from work, and realizes how freezing cold the temperature was in the dimly-lit bedroom as the soft sound of rain could be heard outside the penthouse.

he blinks slowly, his eyes a little dazed from his half-asleep state as he notices how the blanket ended up at the foot of the bed and how his arms were lacking a warm body to grasp.

chuuya's voice was low and raspy from sleep as he called out for you, "sweetheart?"

he rubs his eyes and discovers you sleeping on the opposite side of the bed, further away from him, since you had most likely moved in your sleep.

when he realizes this, he shifts in bed and reaches for your figure, reaching out his arms to pull you back into his embrace. however, chuuya flinches as soon as he touches your arm, saying, "shit, sweetheart. you're cold."

chuuya instantly wraps his arms around your body, drawing you back to him while hushing and coaxing you sweetly in your sleep, both from the unexpected movement and the temperature of the room.

"shh, shh... it's okay, sweetheart. it's okay," he says softly, snuggling your body back to his chest before drawing the blankets back over your bodies and caressing your arms for extra warmth while kissing the top of your head.

you continue to whine softly as you awaken from the cold and the sudden movement. the blanket was insufficient, as was his arms. you were still shivering from the room's cold temperature.

chuuya's hands moved slowly from your arms to your waist, carressing you over your sleepwear as a thought occurred to him.

he moves in closer, pressing his lips to your ear, "you're gonna be okay, sweetheart. i'll warm you right up."

chuuya then plants his lips on the spot behind your ear and begins trailing kisses all the way down your neck. his hands rise up your sleepwear and begin caressing and stroking your skin, massaging you more firmly yet sensuously now.

"c-chuuya.." you gasped softly with a hitched breath as his hands and breathy sighs warmed your skin to the point where you found yourself leaning in closer to his touch and embrace for more warmth as you clung onto him.

"easy, baby. let me take care of you, okay?" chuuya whispers, kissing the sensitive regions on your neck, nibbling and sucking on your skin, and slipping his hands inside your sleepwear, feeling up the soft flesh of your breasts.

you sweet yet soft moans were like music to his ears, and he couldn't help but groan as he felt how hard and sensitive your nipples were from the cold, and his fingers as he slowly massaged and felt up your supple breasts in his hands as he kissed and suckled on your neck.

chuuya's hands then trail lower, finding their way to the waistband of your pajama shorts.

you find yourself whimpering into the corner of your pillow in need and desperation as you feel chuuya pull down your pajama bottoms completely along with your panties, but he doesn't remove your top, not wanting you to grow colder from the room's temperature.

"such a needy baby, aren't cha?" he chuckles softly, his breath tickling the skin of your neck as he feels you eagerly clamp your thighs and grind down on his hand the second he discards your pajama bottoms.

chuuya pushes his fingers through your folds to rub your delicious nub as he resumes kissing and nibbling at your neck, leaving you a moaning and shuddering mess. as he continued his efforts, your soft little moans became increasingly audible.

he then slides his middle and ring fingers into your entrance with a wet squelch, since you were already moist from his touch earlier, and chuuya groans once more as your inner walls clench around his fingers that were going in and out of your entrance.

"so wet for me, baby.. such a good girl.." chuuya hums, pumping his fingers, kissing and biting at your neck with a sigh while firmly holding your waist and carressing it to keep you in position next to him, just beneath the warm and cozy blanket, while you squirmed and moaned.

"come on, good girl... cum for me, won't you?" chuuya asks breathily against your neck, moving his fingers rapidly in and out of you while stimulating your clit.

your legs twitched and trembled from his fingers, you moaned softly, "c-chuuya.. ha.. ah.."

"come on. you can do it, baby.." chuuya chuckles softly, encouraging you further with his words.

it doesn't take long for you to utter a short cry of ecstasy as you orgasm on his fingers with a shudder, grasping the sheets and pillows.

"good girl.. such a good girl for me, [name]," chuuya praises, pulling his middle and ring fingers out of you which were connected by your wet slick. he kisses your forehead as you pant lightly for air, recovering from your high.

but he doesn't stop there. chuuya can still feel how cold you were, and he was equally cold. he needs you as much as you need him right now.

he slowly pulls away and moves to hover over your body beneath the blanket that had been covering you two. chuuya plants many kisses on your lips while softly caressing your cheek with his other hand while simultaneously removing his sweatpants and boxers in one swift motion.

he kicks them off and discards them, along with your pajama bottoms and panties earlier, stroking his fingers up your waist, hips, and finally your thighs, giving them a squeeze before gripping them to widen them apart as he presses them farther down the matress.

chuuya takes one of his hands and strokes his own cock, which was already dripping with pre-cum. he strokes the tip first before rubbing against your wet opening, pushing in slowly.

"h-haah.. god, you feel sooo good, [name].." chuuya groans in pleasure as he stretches you out with your inner walls clenching around his cock as he inches it slowly inside your entrance the same way he did earlier with his fingers.

the warmth of your pussy was comforting, enticing, and addictive all at the same time, and it was enough to keep you and him warm together on this cold night.

"a-and you are such a good girl for me too.. taking me so well while i warm you up all nicely just like this.." chuuya sighs shakily, praising you once more as you slick up more and more both from sensitivity and pleasure.

"c-chuuya!" you voice out between your soft gasps, holding onto his arms as he moves his hips a bit faster now, inching his cock deeper and deeper into your wet core.

chuuya's voice becomes shaky as he speaks and thrusts himself into you at a quicker pace, "feels nice and warm, baby? y-yeah?"

you nod your head, a shaky yes spilling from your lips, as he thrusts deeper into your pussy and brushes up against a sensitive sweet spot, causing you to moan more loudly with your legs wrapping around his waist. you slam down into him, colliding with his thrusts in sync as he continues to guide your hips.

"hmm, looks like i found it," he smirks a bit before his lips brush against yours, kissing you passionately with such tenderness as he lifts your waist a little for a better angle and begins hitting that sensitive sweet spot over and over, intensifying his thrusts.

chuuya tightens his grasp on your hips and syncs them with his hip movement, all the while kissing your lips with such passion and care, and soon enough, both of your sweet moans and grunts fill the bedroom with warmth, the bed creaking intensely from chuuya's thrusts.

with his cock hitting that same sensitive sweet spot over and over, his lips feeling so warm against your own as his tongue dances with yours, and his hands holding and carressing your hips, everything was warmer, sensitive, and feeling all good in the right places.

"c-chuuya.. c-close.. a-am really close and s-sensitive.." you softly gasp this in between the kisses, your eyes already watering from the immense pleasure you were nearing.

"that's my good girl right there," chuuya chuckles softly in a shaky breath, drawing away from your lips for a second before returning, thrusting harder and faster as he feels your inner walls clench and tighten around his cock.

"come on right here and then.. cum for me sweetheart.." chuuya moans against your lips, grinning as he feels you tense up and moan louder as he begins caressing your clit all over again, as he did before while he thrusts.

"c-chuuya.. w-wait, p-please.. s-sensitive!~" you cry, your legs writhing and spasming against him as your movements to keep up with him become sloppy. "s-sensitive right now.. a-ah.."

"shh, i know, baby. it's okay, you're okay. almost there," chuuya tenderly hushes you, continuing to rub your sweet little nub with unwavering thrusts, "just let me make you feel nice and warm."

you slurred your words, unable to express yourself correctly because of how good and warm everything feels right now, especially with your thoughts clouded in such pleasure.

"shit.. c'mere, baby.." chuuya moans as he buries his face deeper into your neck, his thrusts becoming more sloppy and urgent. he grips you tighter than ever as he bites the delicate sweet spots on your neck all over again.

he, too, was growing closer and chasing for that intense pleasure and warmth with you.

chuuya lets out a grunt and a deep groan as he orgasms with you, his hands immediately carressing and massaging your hips and ass to comfort your body as it spasms and shudders from the extreme pleasure.

as you come undone with your nails digging and scratching chuuya's back as he fills you up all nice and warm with his cum profoundly, painting your inner walls white, you let another cry of pleasure leave your lips, which was louder than when you initially orgasmed from his fingers earlier.

both of you pant and breathe heavily for air as your bodies became heated and sweaty, no longer freezing cold by the room's temperature.

chuuya sighs relievedly, thrusting his cock a bit again, coaxing subtle yet sharp gasps from you before pulling out, letting his hot cum drip and roll out of your stuffed and sensitive pussy.

he then kisses you again, this time more softly but still with the same passionate affection as before, pressing his forehead against yours, his soft, warm, and shaky breaths tickling your face as he wipes the bead of sweat rolling down your brow and cups your cheek before stroking it with his thumb.

as your breathing eventually evens out, you speak out between quiet breaths, "chuuya.."

"yes? are you okay, sweetheart? are you still with me?" chuuya says softly and considerably, while peppering your face in gentle kisses.

"a-am okay.. i'm okay.." you respond softly, leaning into his touch and tenderness.

"good," chuuya tenderly smiles when he hears your response before lying back down on his side in bed, right next you, adjusting the blankets to better cover both of your bodies.

he draws your body back to him, his arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly. chuuya kisses you on the lips one more time before you bury and nuzzle your face into his neck as you cuddle up to him and he comfortingly rubs your back. you find your eyes becoming heavier as a result of exhaustion and the newfound warmth from earlier.

"we'll clean up when we wake up in the morning. i'll give you the nicest bath, and that's a promise," chuuya says softly as he begins to yawn, his eyes becoming heavier as well, "but for now, rest up, sweetheart. you deserve it."

"i'll keep you nice and warm," he adds.

chuuya then buries his face in your hair, tenderly rubbing your back once more before the two of you fall asleep in each other's arms, the sound of rain outside the penthouse still audible through the bedroom window.

[ author's notes ! hi, there. okay, so this was my first time writing nsfw/smut, as well as writing for something other than a series fic. tbh, i was pretty hesitant about posting this, but here it is, and i hope you enjoyed reading it ! (⸝⸝ >⤙< ⸝⸝) ]

p.s. ! i tried a new writing style for this writing by the way. please let me know what you guys think. reblogs and likes are highly appreciated and shoutout to chuuya lovers 🥂

#bungo stray dogs x reader #chuuya x reader #chuuya smut #bsd x reader #bsd x y/n #bsd x you #bsd imagines #bsd scenarios #bsd fluff #bsd oneshot #bsd chuuya headcanons #bsd chuuya #bsd smut #chuuya x y/n #chuuya x you #chuuya scenarios #chuuya x fem!reader

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johziii · 7 months ago

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youtube

T U C K E R & H U N T E R from Anon. series ✧.* the sims 3: create-a-sim #7

✧.* tucker

general: skin, contacts, blush/face details (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7), hair, eyebrows, nose piercing

everyday: top, bottom, shoes

formal: outfit

sleepwear: bottom

athletic: top, bottom, shoes

outdoor: top, bottom, shoes

✧.* hunter

general: skin, contacts, blush/face details (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7), hair, eyebrows

everyday: top, bottom, shoes

formal: outfit

sleepwear: top

athletic: shoes

swim: bottom

outdoor: top, bottom, shoes

tucker | hunter (.package -> mods and library folder)

#ts3 #sims 3 #s3cc #ts3cc #sims3cc #anon series #ts3 machinima #sims 3 anon series #anon #johziii's video #mine:sims #Youtube

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bruh-anator3000 · 4 months ago

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Another quick fix of Death and the Wolf. Honestly, I wrote this based on a headcannon* and wanting to tie in some more details to this story, but this could honestly be read separately.

Warning: Weed, chronic pain, cancer mentions, they were roomates? Omg they were roommates. Sexual suggests/comments but its all fluff, Wade trying his best and slightly ooc but thats how pain is, Logan's emotionally constipated, and can't get high. No pronouns used for reader. Written in an hour-ish

*h/c: as incredible as Deadpool is, sometimes the cancer really wears his body down. The best cure? Getting stoned.

Pairings: Wade Wilson x Logan Howlett x Reader

~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~

It's not uncommon for you to wake up before the other two. Sleeping wasn't a strong suit of yours, and the couch bed wasn't supportive. It was weird, however, when it was just you for longer than an hour. Usually Logan would've rumbled and grumbled his way through for a morning whiskey.

It would've been something you brushed off and ignored. Let them sleep in, and possibly have the apartment to yourself, but this case didn't feel right. Setting your coffee mug aside, you quietly call for Logan and Wade as you open their bedroom door.

You peek your head in, and find an unusual scene. Logan was awake, his arm wrapped around Wade while reading some book he must've found on the floor. Wade was curled into his side, eyes squeezed shut as his chest rose and fell with huffs.

"Hey," You start softly, announcing your presence. It felt weird interrupting a moment like this, seemed very intimate, but Logan didn't shoot out of bed and start cussing, so maybe it wasn't as inappropriate as you guessed. "Everything okay?"

Logan glanced over, shaking his head. He cleared his throat, planning to explain. Wade beat him to it.

"He pegged me so hard last night," Wade chuckled, wincing slightly. He sounded out of breath. And he wasn't turning around to give you vivid detail of such a night - like he would anytime he had sex.

"His pain's flaring again." Logan rolled his eyes. His hand wrapped around his shoulders gently pats his side.

"Am not." Wade quickly covers, but you've decided Logan was the truthful one a long time ago. "I'm always in pain, I eat pain for breakfast. I don't..."

He tried to roll onto his back to prove his independence. To show off that he was stronger than whatever his body was going through. The second he pulls away from Logan to demonstrate such, he's crying out with a short but loud groan.

The guttural shout made you wince. This has happened before. Wade will never admit it, but his body is his number one enemy. He thought he could laugh this off and pretend nothing was happening, but when your body is at constant war with cancer, you're going to feel it. Invincible as he may be, not even a man like him could escape the chronic pain.

"I'm not in pain." Hoarsely, he whispered. Logan propped himself up by the elbow, holding his chin. Watching this argument crumble into dust.

"So... you don't want to get high?" Sweetening the honey pot, you carefully step into their room and start searching Wade's bedside table.

"I never said that." He slowly, stiffly turns to watch you.

"I guess I'll get stoned by myself." Finding the collector's Wolverine lighter he bought as a joke, you set it aside and keep looking for his stash.

Logan snorts, watching Wade pout. He gets out of bed next. His plain tank and sweatpants fit comfortably around his frame. He walks around the bed and joins your side.

"Check the bottom drawer, under the panel." The grump suggests as he scoots the covers off of Wade, revealing his unicorn printed sleepwear. You do as he says, pulling the bottom of the drawer up. A small mesh bag of maybe four joints sit there. You'll have to get him more soon.

"Up, up," Logan slides his arms under the poor man's stiff body. One supporting his back, the other beneath his knees. Lifting him out of bed like a pretty princess.

"Oh yes," Wade rests his head on his chest. Really mushing his face into Logan's pecs. "Hold me tighter, you big old man!"

"I will drop you." Logan threatens, with no real intention of doing such. The idea alone makes Wade whimper and shut up.

He must be in a lot of pain.

Grabbing the sack of joints, you follow the two. Thankfully, due to your fantastic sleepy skills, you didn't fold the couch back up. Any other day, Wade would've been frustrated and Logan probably would've yelled because he stubbed his toe on the damn thing. But today, it was perfect.

You help Logan situate Wade, placing all your pillows and then some behind him to assist him sitting up. Logan lights a joint, not without smirking at the novelty Wolverine lighter. 'Cheap gimmick,' he would mutter.

"Can we watch Gossip Girl?" Wade leans into your side, his scarred face looking redder than usual. He was really in for it, crazy inflammation.

"You can't get a woody, though." You warn, grabbing the remote and flicking on the TV. "You need to relax."

You search through the recently watched playlist, the scent of weed building. Logan takes the first hit. He always insisted he did. 100 something years in smoking, he knew how to 'start a joint properly.' As if that was a real concern to either of you.

Wade shifts over slightly, turning his head to Logan. Smiling while Logan sighs, shaking his head before doing Wade's favorite party trick. Taking in a lungful and a half, he blows it all out through his nose, smoke curling up and wisping at his side burns.

It made him look like a feral beast. Breathing so hot, he was huffing out smoke. Like a sexy dragon. Wade loved it. Logan only did it because Wade loved it.

"You sexy minx," He puckers his lips, waiting for his hit. "My turn!" Logan chuckles and holds the end of the blunt to Wade's lips for him. Encouraging him with a soft 'there you go,' as Wade filled his lungs as much as he could. He wanted to be so stoned, he forgot what the word 'pain' even looked like.

Finally, it's passed to you. Plucking it from Wade's lips, you take a small hit. You weren't trying to speed run the high. The apartment quickly filled up with smoke and the scent of marijuana. It didn't stop until Wade was red eyed and pretty much passed out on your shoulder. You were out a long time ago, anyways.

Logan was the only sober one left. Unfortunate. He wanted to get stoned, but his system would need at least 200 edibles for him to feel something. He kept his arm around Wade, his hand on your shoulder.

Sighing with a hint of relief. He had been worried all morning. It wasn't normal to wake up to a silent Wade Wilson. Wasn't normal to see him crying first thing in the morning. He was in pain, and Logan didn't know how to fix it. And that killed him.

He hated when either of you were hurting, emotionally or physically. He couldn't help. He could bandage any wound but he wouldn't be any calmer. There were several days where he wished to just share a part of his healing factor with you. Days like these, he wanted to somehow absorb Wade's pain. He could handle it. Nearly 200 years of living, he would put up with the pain because he thought he actually deserved it.

Wade may be a talking dick, but he didn't deserve this. He was a kid. You both were kids to Logan. Everyone was to Logan. Young, dumb, broke,

"High school kids," Wade mutters a tune, finishing Logan's thoughts somehow. Execpt he knew you two were older than college students. The high school bit seemed out of place.

"Go back to sleep, Wade." Logan rumbles, deep in his chest. Pulling him closer, and taking you with him. Gossip Girl played quietly, but he didn't care.

He had you and Wade piled onto his side. That's all he needed.

#bruh writes #wolverine x reader #deadpool x reader #wade wilson x reader #logan howlett x reader #deadpool and Wolverine #deadpool fic #wolverine fic #logan x wade x reader

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historyslittlebish · 6 months ago

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heyy i was just wondering if you could do a baldwin iv x reader fic where the reader sings/reads to him until he falls asleep? extra fluff pleaseee. thank youuu.

p.s. i love your writing xx

a/n: thanks for asking, I've been allowing this to sit in my inbox for a bit so I apologize for the wait (-_-). Also I'm doing fem reader because I felt like it :)

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Warning: f!reader, mentions of family and having a child, fluff, slight angst

Pain was a constant in Baldwin's life.

Pain was in many different forms. The pain of not being able to be like other boys in his past years or not being able to be one of gods greatest, being forced to bear the brunt of such a disease.

But the worst pain is not being able to love his wife like any other man would, not being able to bear am heir for the kingdom, not being able to have the family he would have liked.

At the current time, pain was coursing through his aching body and to his head after spending most of his time arguing with his sister's husband.

He slowly trudged through the dimly lit halls, wanting to arrive quicker to his quarters to see his beautiful wife waiting in bed.

As he came closer to the doors and slowly entered the room and saw his wife was nowhere to be found. Baldwin sighed as he continued anyways. Reaching over to the side of his bed to dress in his sleepwear before retiring for the night.

As he finished putting on the robe he slowly reached up to his face and carefully took off the iron mask and set it aside near his end of the bed.

He lowered himself onto the plush and soft bed and allowed his aching bones a relief from the days work.

As he closed his eyes and took a few moments to breathe, he heard the doors to the bathing areas open. His head turned to see his wife, freshly out of the bath braiding her h/c hair and in her sleep wear.

"My love." He breathed out. Baldwin had always found his wife stunning, no matter what she did, what she wore, or what she looked like.

"How is my sweet husband doing?" She chuckled. Baldwin groaned as he layed back down resting on the comfy pillows.

"All day has my mind been on you, my angel." He sighed as he stared at the ceiling. Y/N plopped down onto her side of the bed and scooted over to her dear husband, gently laying a hand on his chest and looking at his face with love and adoration.

"I can sense your unease, my heart.." She said as she sat up in a more comfortable position, patting her lap as an invitation to Baldwin. Baldwin gladly accepted and carefully rested on Y/N, cuddled up to his wife's embrace.

Baldwin sighed as he nuzzled into her touch, being content with spending time with his wife.

"Would..you like me to sing for you?" She asked out of the blue which made Baldwin look up in surprise, that surprise quickly switching to a peaceful look on his face. "Please do, my love, I need something to help me fall asleep after dealing with my duties today." His soft and sweet voice made the queens heart flutter.

Y/N began to hum a small song as she gently stroked his head and back, allowing quiet but beautiful words to flow from her mouth, a soft and graceful melody that Baldwin loved.

He wished he could hear more but his slumber won the battle, the sweet melody lulling the man to sleep, allowing him to rest in his little dream world..

a/n: I apologize if its short and sloppy but I'm like super sick rn and my head has been aching for 2 days straight and I had a super hard time focusing because of how light headed I was Q.Q

#history blog #historical blog #history #thanks anon!#anon ask #historical figures x reader #king baldwin iv #history x reader #king baldwin x reader #kingdom of heaven #koh #king baldwin x you

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sesamenom · 4 months ago

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the classic the classic (pink)

neon pastel

sleepwear party

formal dinner

behold a collection of C&C nargothrond-era outfit doodles, inspired by PD outfits from @braywashed / @kitwilsonsass

#silm #silmarillion #celegorm #curufin #outfit design #pretty deadly #crossover #wwelves #elfify #<- i think that crossover tag counts too #i didnt draw shoes on these so imagine them wearing bloodstained greaves and sabatons with every outfit #inspired by seeing some of braywasheds recent pd posts and thinking that it looks like something from nargothrond #curufin seems to favor more sleeve-y sleeves and tabard style skirts #celegorm leans more towards sleeveless turtleneck and cropped slacks #honestly i would have thought it would be reversed but i guess it makes sense #also for the pd crossover part of it #kitto seems to have more of the high waisted loose pants and elto wears more sleeveless very-cropped tops #even outfit wise these guys match c&c #has anyone asked them if theyve read the silm #or at least their costume designer #because someone there has to be doing this on purpose right??

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schrodinger-swriter · 10 months ago

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Romantic Sir Pentious

A boring title for sure but what can one do? I hope you all don't mind me not answering requests today, at least that's the plan for today. I'm not sure yet, I might knock one or two out tonight.. I just feel a little down in the dumps today, really writing this as a means to attempt to cheer myself up. Sharing in case anyone would also enjoys these little thoughts.

With all that said, enjoy! C:

Sometimes he sends one of his eggs boiz to keep an eye on you when you go out, and to be a security guard of sorts. Are the egg boiz good body guards? No... but it's a sweet gesture nonetheless. If he can help it he's going to go with you.

His hood fans out whenever you look his way and smile. It has probably smacked someone in the face before, at least once...

He takes off his hat and nervously holds it to his chest when he approaches you to talk. To try to make an advance.. maybe to try to ask you out. It's sweet, it's dorky, it's endearing.

"My Dearest," as he looks at you with so much love in his eyes. He enjoys slipping letters under your door, he doesn't care if the two of you are living together in the hotel. If you two have separate rooms he's going to give you something. Seals them with wax, with so many pretty stamps.

All of this and yet he doesn't realize that you feel the same way about him... you'd have to say it outright for him to catch the hint.. for an inventor he can be quite dense at times.

When you two get together it's sickeningly sweet. He devotes his himself to you, he's a loving man! You better do the same in return, Reader.

You both have a shared bed time routine; you both change into your sleepwear before crawling into bed. You cuddle into him while he reads a book, his chin resting on the top of your head. Until you both go to bed. On some nights the two of you talk until your words slur into an incomprehensible mess due to the drowsiness. He soothes your nightmares. Though... that's assuming he just doesn't wake you up immediately.

He pulls your chair out for you when you go to sit, and tucks it back in when you get in it. He holds the door open. He would drape his coat over a puddle if you'd let him. He'd let you walk on him, actually, if the coat didn't suffice.

Oh how he adores you, his Beloved.

Would have a locket with your picture after you two secure a relationship.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #sir pentious x reader #sir pentious x you #sir pentious imagine

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tuliptired · 7 months ago

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He's Good People Ch.2

Chapter 2: We Could Steal Time, for Just One Day (We Can be Heroes)

Pairing(s): Gn!reader/Ray, Gn!reader/Egon, Gn!reader/Winston

Summary: (Egon centric) You get to spend most of the day with the quiet scientist, as per his out of character invitations.

Warnings: talk of having a baby, though reader biology is never specified

Thank you for all the support so far!

read it on Ao3!

There was a soft light hitting your eye, lulling you back awake. You were safe, in your own bed, in your own house, about to go to work.

Oh. These aren’t your sheets. This was not your house. You sat up. Ray was still asleep, curled up in extra blankets beside you. You looked around, Peter and Winston were motionless, the clock reading 7:22. Egon’s bed was empty.

Normally, you didn’t wake up in beds that weren’t yours. Normally, you didn’t wake up in beds that weren’t yours in houses that weren’t yours. Normally, you didn’t wake up in beds that weren’t yours in houses that weren’t yours that belonged to some men you had only just met. And you don’t wear their spare clothes, and sleep in close enough proximity that you can hear their snores catch in their throats. You ran a hand over your face. It all felt so shameless. Not respectable. What were you doing?

The door opened softly and Egon stepped in, holding a stained piece of fabric. He appeared to have showered and dressed in the earlier hours of the morning, and he pulled a drawer open for a new tie. You felt awkward in his space, as he went about his business. Thankfully, he broke the silence.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning…sorry, Ray told me I could sleep in here.” You unconsciously pulled the sheets over yourself, despite the fact your body was fully covered in baggy sleepwear built for the physique of a 50 year old firefighter.

“I don’t mind.” He pulled a tie out and examined it.

“You didn’t sleep?” You ask idly. His fingers made ease of the garment, smoothing it out.

“I’m fine.” He looked over at the sleeping forms of his friends, dead to the world. “They won’t be up for a while. It’s a Sunday.” He paused for a bit, pondering something, shutting the drawer.

“Would you like breakfast?” The question takes you by surprise, but the emptiness in your stomach is starting to ache.

“If it’s not too much trouble.” He freezes up, as if he didn’t expect your answer. He blinks, gears turning, the offer coming out beyond his own volition. Egon shakes his head slightly, as if wiping a thought away. He and Ray had habits of doing that, you noticed.

“None at all.” He starts out the room. When he reaches the kitchen space, he stands there for a moment, hands at his sides. Robotically, he pulls out eggs, butter, sugar, and a few other things from the fridge, managing to lay them all out methodically, in an organized chaos.

You feel a bit rude, just standing there. “Is there any way I could help?” You unconsciously roll up the sleeves of the sweatshirt.

Egon keeps working, mixing something intently. “No.” You blink. Hesitantly, you move to sit at the table somehow feeling a little ruder. As Egon notices you pulling a chair out slowly so as to not disturb him, he sighs, slowing his work.

“Not because I think you’d be inadequate. I just have a system.” He lit a pan on the stove, pouring a small amount of oil into it.

“A system for pancakes?”

“Mrs.Stantz taught me how to make them in graduate school.”

You got a little thrown at that. “Mrs…Stantz?”

A silence. His arms are suspended in the air, batter flowing into the hot pan. “Ray’s mother.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. He held one.

“Your parents never taught you to cook?” You try to alleviate some of the palpable tension still in the air.

“My parents were fans of quark on their gruel,” is all he said. “But. The Stantz family was different. They…put sugar in their coffee. Had big ‘sundee’ dinners.”

He seemed to think hard before speaking again, measuring each word like they could betray him. “Mrs. Stantz told me that…cooking for others was a way of saying you wanted them to live.”

That’s why he offered. You could smile at that. In the short time you knew him, you’d gathered that he didn’t seem as skilled as his friends in the ways of sociability. You really didn’t know him as well as you’d liked- he hadn’t shown you much, but you could appreciate the gesture.

“Thank you, Dr. Spengler.” He stilled again, ever so slightly. You hadn’t noticed until then that the sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows. Maybe you ought to call him that more often? If you planned on sticking around. You didn’t know what your plan was anymore

There was a comfortable silence as he continued to work, diligently managing pancakes in one pan, potatoes and eggs in another. After a while, he pulls a small container out from the back of the fridge.

“Do you feel strongly about mushrooms?”

“Do you want me to?”

“These are top shelf. The Hennessy of the mycology world.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

Eventually, he was plating food for the two of you, potatoes and eggs (with Hennessy mushrooms) on one half, steaming pancakes on the other. Before you could smile and thank him, he stops you.

Swirling around a small pitcher one final time, he carefully crouches at the front of the table. A light, yellowish liquid pours out of it and slathers onto the pastry, making you unknowingly drool.

With delicate precision, he adds a heap to his own. When he decides it's enough, he takes a seat, gesturing for you to start. You take a bite and…

Good god, this was the best thing you’ve ever tasted. The pancakes were cooked thoroughly, the texture of it all feeling like clouds in love on your tongue. The mysterious syrup was the best part- it was homely, and almost like a candy that melted down your throat. You stared up at Egon in disbelief as you swallowed.

“Holy cow”

‘More or less. Buttermilk syrup”

It's safe to say you dug in, making quick work of the stack that was once on your plate. Wiping your mouth, you had to sing his praises. He had the slightest hint of an indulgent smile, watching you eat. One of pride, maybe?

“These are incredible, Dr. Spengler. What do I have to do to get Ray to give me the recipe?” You asked earnestly. To that, his smile quickly fell, and he hastily dismissed the idea.

“Don’t bother. His mother says I’m the only one who can replicate them.” He speaks as if you’re discussing nuclear codes. “Besides, I’ve got it memorized.”

“Are you willing to share?”

“I’d have to kill you.”

You made pleasant conversation for a while, even after both your plates had been cleared. Nursing a pot of coffee, he recalled something.

“Your bag ended up in the laundry chute. Here.” But he misjudges how secure the latch was- and as he holds on to the wrong part the contents spill onto the table. The worn, brown bag of candy from the day prior rips, and Crunch Bars, hard candies, and fruit chews tumble out in front of you. Embarrassment engulfs you as you apologize, just short of lunging over the table to clean up the mess, detesting how weird you must look carrying around a bag that had nothing but sweets.

He helps you rather the treats up wordlessly, before handing you one of the many blue wrapped chocolate bars.

“Would it be optimal to keep candies in my flight suit?” He voiced.

“Don’t patronize me,” your face burns still, your hands crumpling up the paper packaging.

“I’m serious. It would keep my blood sugars high.”

“Go for it, Dr. Spengler.” You grinned, sliding him a Crunch Bar. Something twinkled behind his eyes. Was this the first time you noticed that he and his arms looked strong, under all that clothing?

“Hey noise machines. You woke us up.” Peter stands in the doorway, Winston and Ray behind him sleepily.

“Sorry,” you pardoned yourself. Like a pack of bears, the men made their way to search for the delightful smell that was wafting towards them from down the hallway.

“Don’t be. I’ve never heard the professor talk so much so early,” Winston yawned.

“Hey! You left us with the dishes!” Ray whined, holding up the dirtied mixing bowls and oily skillet.

“There’s raisin bran in the pantry.” Egon conducted you out of the room. He had you follow him back to the bedroom, stopping at the door to think to himself. You were used to it at this point. He emerged, with a light blue sweater and an unworn pair of track pants.

“I’m assuming you’d like to shower now. Here’s a change of clothes-” His voice got a bit worried at the end as you thumbed through the garments, musing at a dark blue fabric sandwiched between what he had handed you.

He couldn’t meet your eyes, his pupils darting in different directions. He fumbled with his folded hands. “They’ve never been worn. It was either those or long johns.” He shuffles past you, in a hurry to leave you be.

Opening up the pile, you see a dark blue pair of boxers, making your face ignite with embarrassment. It's the thought that counts?

“Dr. Spengler!” You call over your shoulder.

He’s halfway down the hall. “...Yes?”

“Thank you.”

He nods, and disappears into the corridors of the firehouse.

The showers are in one large bathroom, reminiscent of a locker room. A wall of sinks and mirrors, opposite a wall of spacious shower space, where curtains separate each showerhead. Well, you´re already there. There's a small bottle of coconut body wash staring you down as you do your business. Of course a little bit wouldn't be missed right? It's a lot more liquid than you expected- and that ´little bit´ went a long way. As you exit the shower careful not to slip on the slick tile, the coconut scent wafts into your nose pleasantly.

You stared at the pile of clothes neatly folded on a bench, like it's a dragon to be slain. In a way, it was. You pulled on the boxers- they fit better than you thought. Ignoring how the image in the mirror made you feel. As your skin still dried, you felt the blue sweater in your hands. The knitwear was delicate in your palms, the yarn a bit worn. It felt more personal than the spare loungewear left in the basement. It felt like a person.

It was fairly large, dwarfing your body. The fibers carried a similar coconut and sandalwood smell that the soap had, making your body feel protected. There were the sweatpants, too, but whatever. They weren't like this.

You left your pajamas in a neat pile as you dropped it down one of the laundry chutes, hoping your undergarments didn´t tumble out into the open. As you crept down the stairs, Janine was working at her desk while Winston gave Ray a hand repairing the Ecto-1. You sat with her for most of the morning, as she insisted on your presence as she handled clerical work and gossipped simultaneously. The 2 men listened to your conversations fondly.

“You smell nice,” Janine commented questioningly.

It was around 12 when a woman walked into the firehouse holding a baby, greeted by Ray and Winston while they worked on the underside of the car. Winston seemed a little less enthusiastic as he held the bright hot flashlight.

"Hi Dana. This is Peter´s keeper,” Janine filled you in. The woman, Dana, gave you a kind smile. "The little bald one is Oscar."

The baby sat patiently, if not curiously, in her arms, a hand in his mouth. Dana joked at him to say hi, and he blew a small raspberry in response.

“He's adorable," you cooed, letting instincts take over as he reached out for your finger, which you gave to him. "How old?”

"10 months, and already very handsy." Dana bounced him in her arms as he tried to replace the hand in his mouth with your own. "Is Peter around?

"Somewhere." Janine yelled for him, and he beckoned for her to give him a second. Egon emerged at that point, wondering what all the noise was. His features relaxed at the sight of the infant.

"Hi, Egon." Dana greeted him, as he stood peering at the mother and her child.

"May I hold him?"

She blinked, a little dumbfounded. "I thought you said babies carried pathogens detrimental to your lymphatic system?" Oscar seemed very interested in him.

"Normally." He held his arms out, expectantly. Dana slowly concedes, and he takes the baby awkwardly. Oscar didn't seem to mind the weird angle, held almost like a freshly caught fish on his back. He kicked his feet and stretched his arms out, and Egon looked as if he was scared to move.

You laughed, though partially concerned for his stability. Babies got heavy fast. "Have you ever held a baby, Dr. Spengler?" You repositioned him so that he sat comfortably against Egon´s shoulder. "May I…?" You asked Dana, to which she nodded warmly.

Taking Oscar, you held him with ease, as he reached up to grab your nose. Bouncing him in your arms, he hit you on either side of your temples, exploring your face. "What´re you looking for?"

Unbeknownst to you, Egon was gazing at you playing with Oscar. So was Ray, across the garage. As you walked in a circle with him in your arms, Dana also watched on, amused.

"You're a parent?"

The question catches you off guard. “Oh, no. Not yet at least.”

“Waiting for ‘the one’” Janine cuts in, eyes not leaving her computer.

“Among other things.” Oscar plays with the collar of the sweater, tugging on it. Peter hopped off the last of the stairs then, exclaiming at the spectacle.

“You’ve got some hairless monster on you,” he feigns fear. Oscar looked at him once, before going back to your collar.

Ray crosses to you both, cooing at the kid in your arms. Peter stopped him halfway there.

“Wash.”

Ray looked down at his motor-oil covered hands, and defeatedly sulked over to the garage sink. Peter turned to you, opening his mouth to say something, before snapping it closed. He narrowed his eyes and pointed a finger at you.

“Is that Eges’?”

You look down. “Is it?”

Egon went rigid, as usual, and swallowed silently. “Today’s forecast predicted a cold front.”

“We’re in the middle of the warmest spring in a decade. Mr. Softy’s outside.”

“Inaccurate journalism, then.”

While Ray’s eyes turned into slits from the sink, Peter’s widened. He put a hand on Dana’s shoulder and steered her towards the door. “I’m gonna have a quick walk with my girl here.”

“I was only stopping by for-”

“A quick walk.”

Oscar looked confused at seeing his mother go. He balled his fists in the front of your shirt. “The baby?”

“Keep it,” Peter called over his shoulder before the door shut.

As Winston packed up all the tools under the elevated vehicle and Ray vehemently turned the pipe off, the phone rang. Janine took it, listening with “uh-huh’s” occasionally, before scribbling down an address on a notepad.

“There’s a client at,” she ripped the paper out and held it out for Ray, “this address. Golf course- she says there’s a puppet ripping out the green.” His eyes grew to the size of saucers as he read it to himself.

“Man! Are you sure this isn’t out of our zoning?” He pleaded with the tiny woman.

“I don’t know, Mr. ‘We’re ready to believe you’.” Janine resumed her typing.

“The day barely started and we’re already driving 2 hours out the way,” he grumbled., “Isn’t it Peter and Egon’s turn?”

“It’s not. Last month we went down to that beach in Jersey.”

Ray’s incredulous glower deepened. “And you got ice cream afterwards!”

“And we’re very sorry yours melted.”

He muttered a few things, before surrendering and pulling on his flight suit, Winston behind him begrudgingly. They repacked the car, pulled out the garage, and they were off.

Peter and Dana still weren’t back, so you sat back in the chair at Janine’s side. Oscar reached out to grab her sleeve.

“I’m returning this later, he’ll stain it.” She rolled her chair an inch away, sharpening a pencil.

He babbled at her. “Don’t worry about Janine. She’s mean and old.” He tried leaning out of your reach to touch her face, entranced by something, before you spun the chair around. “She’ll steal your youth, Oscar.”

He looked a little bored, as he hit your temples for the second time. His brow furrowed as much as a baby could manage, as he examined your face again. “What?” You asked. He looked sad, making small whimpers at you. You turned the chair around again, showing him Egon. “He looks constipated, Dr. Spengler.”

Oscar suddenly got very excited, bouncing up and down and grabbing the air. You laugh, using your foot to bring a wheeled-stool over, waving Egon along to sit. He sat, legs comically too large for the tiny chair.

“Sure, let’s have a meeting at Janine's desk,” the woman commented dryly.

Egon looked a little bemused as the boy exclaimed for him, sitting in your lap. You scooted closer to him, so much so that your knees touched and formed a bridge, his skin getting warmer as you did. You place Oscar on the ledge you created, and he eagerly leans into Egon. He reaches for his face like he did you and Janine, but falls onto his butt in the process. Egon’s stiffness is endearing. It’s like there was a baby bear on his lap rather than a baby child. Jeez, he’s gonna burst a blood vessel at this rate.

Putting him out of his misery, you lightly grab each of his hands, steadying them on each side of the sitting baby marveling at the man in front of him. Egon’s skin is still warm, even more so now, as you coax him to pick Oscar up. The backs, at least, were a little rough and worn, but you expected no more from a scientist. He was still a man, at the end of the day. You glanced up at his panicking face, and you didn’t know any better, you’d say his chest was rising and falling more than normal. You held Egon’s large hands under your own as you aided him in raising him to eye level.

You leaned to the right, keen on teasing his bewildered face from behind Oscar’s rear end. “Was that hard, Dr. Spengler?” Oscar starts gleefully hitting his temples as he did yours.

“Do you want to have a baby.”

Janine’s typing stops. Egon’s glasses go flying off his face and land behind you, as the baby in your hands erupts in a fit of giggles before you could say anything. His hands recoiled from yours like you were a burning stove as you gently set him down, back on your own lap.

Egon looks like his brain is short circuiting and melting out his ears, which, for all you know, it was. Even with his glasses off, his face never failed to absorb you. He definitely had the face to make a few college girls lose their humility.

He remembered human interaction and cleared his throat. “What I meant was. Oscar has a larger than normal head and large eyes. He also has an upturned, small nose.” His tone regained the scientific timbre it normally had. “Many people of,” he fished for the words, “child-rearing-age find these features…’cute’.” Janine snorted a laugh, then got up to search for his discarded eyewear somewhere on the floor.

“He’s to die for, no doubt. I just…” he’s resided lying against your legs now, his wonder satisfied for one afternoon as he teethed on one of Egon’s fingers, “Unfortunately, it takes 2 to to make a baby. I’m not exactly properly equipped to complete that job on my own” You sighed. How was your life gonna go back to normal, once your apartment was safe again? You hate to admit, but that job was you at your peak. Janine pressed the eyeglasses into Egon’s palm.

The door opened then, and Peter entered with Dana in tow. She smirked at the sight of you and Egon, knee to knee with a baby in between you.

“How cute, we’ll call up JCPenney and they can take a family photo,” she took to teasing Egon as you handed her back her son.

He sat limply in her arms, about ready for a nap. “He’s delightful, Dana.”

“Makes you wanna have one?” Janine turns in her chair to face you.

At some point during the afternoon, Janine sighed heavily at the idea of running around and completing the list of errands she’d let fester over the week as you ate together upstairs. Egon was tinkering with something at the workspace near you when he spoke up.

“Do you want me to do it?” He put the contraption down on the desk.

“You would?” Janine let her head fall on the back of the couch, holding the list out to him.

“I might as well. I can’t focus today.” He folded the paper, placing it in the pocket of his coat. As he started down the steps, he slowed, and turned his head towards you.

“Y/N? Would you mind joining me? I don’t get to the store much.” You had no objections. After washing the last of the wares you both had dirtied, you dried your hands off on a teatowel before descending the stairs on Egon’s heels.

He held the door for you as you stepped out onto the sidewalk, and the humidity hit you like a brick. It had been a pretty warm spring, but the recent light rain seemed to cool the earth off, just a bit. It was getting gray and wet outside the longer you walked, clouds ghosting over the sun every now and again. You both walked together in comfortable silence, in an arbitrary direction (you’ve never been shopping in this area), as gentle drops on your head slowly turned into genuine precipitation.

Before you could suggest turning back, or grabbing umbrellas, the rain above you suddenly stops. As you look up, he’s holding his overcoat above your head. Head and shoulders undoubtedly getting soaked.

“There’s a bus stop down the block. We can catch it if we run.”

With that, you’re off. Running like little kids down a hill, you narrowly avoid deep puddles and streetlamps as you giggle uncontrollably. As your feet hit the sidewalk with every step, the petrichor in the air fills your lungs like it’s your soul. In a way, in your adrenaline rushed mind, you equate it with the man next to you.

When you finally reach the stop, the bus is lurking from the end of the street. Doubled over, you catch your breath, the air now feeling like fire leaving your esophagus. But you laugh through it all. And the man who shielded you from the rain lets out a weak, barely there chuckle. You straighten to thank him, when you notice how bad mother nature got him. Egon’s usually pomaded, high and tamed hair had fallen out of place, curls now coming loose on his head. He looked wonderful, other than most of his upper body being stained by the sudden downpour.

You can’t speak, staring at him, at the almost Grecian picture in front of you. His lips were parted slightly as he regained his energy, almost curled in a simper as the strong hands you felt earlier wiped some of the dampness from his forehead. His tie was a sky blue, unlike the sky that had dominion over you now. And god, he looked nice in blue.

As he noticed your staring, an eyebrow quirked up, only slightly. There was nothing for you to do but laugh, leaning into the tall man in front of you. He was stiff at first, and confused, but he succumbed to it soon enough, holding you as well as he couldn’t hold himself back from the ridiculousness of it all. You both probably looked like idiots, losing your minds on the side of the street. But for the first time since yesterday, you were sure of something. If this was what it felt like to be an idiot with him, you never wanted to be smart again.

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slushiepizza · 8 months ago

Text

The Pursuit of Catharsis

Pairing : Guy/Honey

Tags : Infidelity, Angst, Hurt no Comfort, Post-Divorce, Guy cheated on Honey and they both had a divorce, DILF Guy, Screenwriter Guy, Moving On Themes

Word Count : 1,453

ao3

How to Heal after a Cheating Spouse

Betrayal from a loved one would cause a mix of emotions unlike any other: vitriol, grief, disappointment. In this column, relationship counselor C. Pardalis details the steps needed to move on.

The first ever step that nobody ever wants to hear is forgiveness. Forgiveness isn’t done for your spouse’s sake- neither does it mean that you have to maintain a relationship with them. It’s about making peace with the pain of the past and moving forward.

Honey closed all the tabs in their browser and shut down the laptop. Every website said the same thing- to forgive, forget, and be the bigger person. Pain simmered in the hollow of their chest. They stared around themselves and noted the take-out boxes on the table. Abandoned laundry piled high on top of the dining room chair- how’d it even get there?

The room could use some cleaning. They were expecting a guest, after all.

In thirty minutes, Guy will arrive at the front door- as if he’s a visitor and not someone who’d lived in the complex for the past twenty years. Had they been younger- had they cared more, they probably would’ve been angrier. Tossed all of his things when they found out- when they saw the mark on the side of his neck, the pair of tickets for a vacation they didn’t book, the foreign smell of cologne sticking in the inside of his jacket. But they didn’t- and instead held onto his things for him to pick up after the divorce had been finalized. Time flew in the blink of an eye and papers were signed.

They’re older. Possibly wiser- but they think they’re just tired of it all. Or maybe they were looking for an excuse to get out of the relationship, anyway. It didn’t matter anymore. Honey quickly folded and put away the laundry in a mechanical way, their hands moved faster than their mind could catch up.

Honey looked at the inside of their closet- a row of newer, sleek designer clothing came into view. They bit the inside of their cheek as they decided on what to wear. They came a long way ever since they began dating him- no longer the college student living in cramped, shared dorms, but someone with a sizable enough salary to afford some luxuries.

Of course, that was nothing compared to Guy the best-selling author, award-winning screenwriter. Everything had its costs, they supposed. They hated to admit it- but they should’ve seen it coming. The success- the downfall. The way it crashed and burned for them.

Try dating yourself, the article said. Make an effort to treat yourself well and find confidence like how you would a partner.

They picked a matching set- a navy-blue, cashmere suit and jacket. Honey looked at themself in the mirror and saw signs of aging. They also saw the bags under their eyes from sleepless nights. Nothing some concealer couldn’t fix. They straightened their jacket and fastened a watch to their wrist.

There’s nothing to prove, Honey reminded themself. But they knew that it was a lie. They spritzed perfume on the inside of their neck. They were dressed as if they were going somewhere-when ten minutes ago, they were lounging in their sleepwear, unable to get themselves out of bed. They wanted to look like they were doing well. Unaffected. Like the twenty years that went down the drain meant nothing to them.

If Guy wanted to sleep around- then so be it. They’re a prize that he’d regret not treasuring.

Honey straightened their posture and twisted their defeated expression into something more neutral. It didn’t last long, as they sighed and went back to their sagged shoulders and hurt, pathetic gaze. They’d play the part when he’s here. It’s exhausting to keep up the facade when they felt nothing but confident, around them remnants of what used to be.

Their wedding ring sat in the same drawer they kept their watches. They should pawn it off soon.

Focus on personal development. Improve yourself and stick to a routine. It’s easy to fall into a rut when grieving the ending of a relationship, especially due to your partner’s mistake.

Honey was the healthiest they’d ever been- yet it’s the worst they’ve ever felt. They go on runs in the crack of dawn and hike on the weekends. They’ve tried everything an acai-bowl eating, veganism-practicing LA native would do: pilates, yoga, hot yoga, crossfit. The post-exercise endorphins would soothe them momentarily, but soon the grief of it all would crash into them like a wave against the cliffs and they stood, heaving on the floor like an animal.

It’s ironic how they were the happiest when they would barely sleep and eat anything that they could afford at the time- which wasn’t much. When Guy would excitedly bring pizza for dinner when they knew that he’d pay for them out of his own paycheck. He’d say that he made it especially for them, and the worst part was that it was true. He put onions because he knew they liked them when he didn’t- put up with the horrors of pineapple on pizza when he found it disgusting.

Honey swallowed and fought the incoming tears. Fuck.

A series of knocks echoed through the apartment and they straightened themself. A picture of serenity and composure. The door swung to reveal the person they’ve been dreading.

“Hey,” he greeted, somewhat hesitant. He had the nerve to look sorry. Anger boiled in their stomach and took purchase in their diaphragm as Honey dissected the man in front of them.

At forty-five, he was definitely still attractive, the half-up, salt-and-pepper hair and unshaved stubble giving him an air of aged wisdom. But Honey just thought that he looked weary, the well-tailored, expensive suit doing a good job of hiding his defeated sort of pride. They have that in common.

It’s been a difficult year.

“Your things are in the boxes near the couch. I packed them so you can just take them away,” they said, curt and flat.

“Okay,” he replied, tight-lipped. They could feel the sadness emanating from him- it reminded them of the night of the confrontation- when he broke down and said that they should leave, because they deserved better. And they do, they like to believe that they do. But why is it so hard?

“Your books and CDs- the Star Trek merch is over there, too.”

“Thanks,” Guy muttered. And the two of them stood in a suffocating silence.

“I don’t resent you, by the way,” Honey said, the words practiced, their back turned from him against the backdrop of the city lights from the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Really.” It was rhetorical, not a question but more of an ironic statement.

Guy gave a weak laugh, like it’s a private joke only he understood. After signing one movie deal after the next, He’s somehow rougher on the edges now, as if any form of gentleness that remained in him was no longer. “I don’t deserve you,” he said, grief-stricken and still as earnest as ever, and Honey could feel the twist of a knife in their stomach.

The article repeated itself in their mind. The first ever step that nobody ever wants to hear is forgiveness.

Fuck that, Honey thought as they tried to hold themself together. Fuck that article. Fuck Guy. Fuck him and his ambitions and the pains of his past for taking the one thing they ever cared about.

What if they don’t want to forgive? What if the pain was so unbearable- it wasn’t like this was a mistake that could be fixed with a good, healthy lifestyle and breathing exercises. Twenty years. Twenty years of seeing him, soft and gentle, yet unrelenting in the pursuit of his dreams of becoming a writer. His hair brushed against their neck whenever he’d lean his head on their shoulder back in the movie nights they had in college. Him taking care of them whenever they’re sick and pissy about it. The late-night drives and the way he’d always have time for them no matter how busy he was.

The light that drained from his eyes, the exhaustion. The way he’d go home in the dead of night, drained and tired and burnt out. The stink of cigarettes and the alcohol under his breath. The articles, the tabloids, the rumors and how they insisted that he wouldn’t do it. He loved them too much to ever leave them for someone else.

Honey collapsed into the floor as soon as Guy closed the door behind him. Heavy sobs wrecked through them as the night wrapped them in its embrace.

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redacted guy #redacted honey #redactedverse #slushiewrites

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