#tw poor first-aid

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: implied nsfw, implied noncon/dubcon, poly yanderes, sprained ankle, captive reader, apocolypse au, talk of fertility, murder of unnamed characters, mentions of potentially killing reader

♡ FEM reader

♡ P2: Staying

Just thinking about the apocalypse, the two army men who’ve long survived it in their shelter with barely any trouble, and then you, a poor girl trying hard to outrun your last captives only to run into them.  

You didn’t realize back then that it was like trading piranhas for sharks, too caught up in begging for their aid to think better of it. You should have just kept running, but your ankle was sprained badly, maybe even broken, and you were wearing so little you would most likely have died from the cold during the night if they hadn’t taken you in.

It seems unfair of them to have kept the giant bunker all to themselves, only the two of them, but you don’t judge. You would likely have kept it all to yourself as well.

This new world has bred new humans, and they’re all monsters. It’s honestly quite surprising they’d even let you in, given this is what they’re protecting, this sanctuary from the past, a comfort most people would kill their closest friend in exchange for.

Trust is all but dead, and so is honor or any other morality—you would know, you’ve lived out there for it all, only having survived by spreading your legs at the right moments. It’s a shameful tactic, and many times, you’ve wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to spare yourself and just die. What was the purpose?

This—you think. This must be it. They have showers and working hot water.

You don’t know how it’s possible—the original owners of the shelter must have been some type of millionaire. You haven’t had a warm shower since the world went to shit—years ago. It’s been a choice of waiting for rain or finding a lake, hoping it wasn’t rancid. Meanwhile, they have soap—scented soap, the lush kind you’d forgotten existed. It feels so nice you have to cry—rejoice—sobbing while lathering yourself, watching all the filth go down the drain, leaving you smooth-skinned once again for the first time in forever. You can’t remember having ever been so clean before, feeling reborn.

They have fresh clothes for you too—new socks and underwear, all clean fabrics, so much more than what you wore—pants, a shirt, and a sweater to keep warm. You didn’t know there still existed people who lived like the old days—you’d thought it was long gone, a bittersweet dream you sometimes have the pleasure of at night instead of the usual nightmares. Never had you thought you’d experience anything even remotely similar, but here you are—looking yourself in the mirror after so long, surprised to see a human looking back at you.

And they feed you. Not scraps, not leftovers, not rot, or days-old flesh from the last successful hunt—but freshly baked bread, vegetables, fruit—for fuck’s sake, they even have juice. You cry again while eating, and then you find yourself begging them again, “Please, let me stay—please, I’ll do anything. I can cook, clean, work—anything at all, I can do it, just please let me stay…”

You’re on your knees, forehead pressed to the heated metal floors—toasty and comforting, you think you could sleep better than ever right there.

“We’ll think about it,” one of them mutters as he gathers the plates. His voice was so harsh he might as well have said, not a chance. It’s clear by his frown that he’d rather send you right out again, leave you to the monsters.

“We’ll at least let you stay until your ankle heals, so don’t worry.” The other is more sympathetic, helping you up. “For now, let’s get you to bed. You must be exhausted.”

It hadn’t crossed your mind that they’d have beds—actual real soft downy mattresses and duvets and pillows. The two of you help make it together. It feels so foreign that you wonder if you might have died earlier. Some years back, you wouldn’t have thought heaven would resemble a prison cell, but now it only made sense—safe metal walls and a bed. What more could one possibly want in the world?

“I’ll wrap your leg for you if you sit.” He holds out a bandage roll, gesturing to your ankle.

Blinking, you can’t even register what he’d just offered until he’s getting down on his knees before you.

You panic, then. Bandages are hard to come by—it hardly seems worth it. “There’s no blood, you shouldn’t waste it—”

“It’ll heal better and faster this way,” he adds reassuringly. His voice is so soft and compelling that you find yourself sitting down without further quarrel, even when it makes you feel spoiled.

He’s gentle with you—holding you steady while wrapping it just tightly enough to be supportive. There hasn’t been a man who’s touched you like it.

“Does that feel okay?”

You can barely tell he’s talking to you. It’s all so lost on you that you can only wordlessly nod your head.

He fastens it just as carefully before standing. “Is there anything else you might need?”

You shake your head just as wordlessly. You can’t believe how nice he’s being. It makes no sense at all. Not in this world. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to lock the door,” he apologizes with a sheepish look once standing on the threshold.

You’d been stuck thinking about how warm the room was, trying to remember a single time you hadn’t been freezing during the night. “That’s okay, I understand,” you say. After all, what’s a locked door in comparison?

“Good,” he smiles—it’s likely the kindest smile you’ve ever seen. “Alright then, good night.”

Once again, you’re left stunned. The last time you’d heard those words spoken must have been from a loved one long since dead. It makes your lip wobble again as you say it back, “Good night.”

It's strange—they could have left you for dead but didn’t. They don’t seem gullible—they can’t be if they’ve managed to protect this place for so long—but you suppose there still exist men who have a soft spot in their hearts for helpless damsels in distress.

As you sink into the comfort, draping your duvet atop your battered body, you don’t even care about the camera in the ceiling—blinking red while watching you.

“Did you have to bandage her up?” he grumbles as the other walks into the bedroom after having said his goodnights to you. 

He’s already in bed, observing through the cameras on a tablet—you were currently curling into the duvet, wrapping it around you close for comfort. You’d likely not slept on anything so soft in a while—it wouldn’t surprise him if you preferred the floor. But no, you drift asleep quite quickly.

“You know how badly things can heal without proper support,” the other answers, regarding it as no big deal. “And besides, it’s not like we often need it—we have plenty to spare.”

He removes his clothes and crawls onto the bed as well, lifting the covers to slot himself right next to the other man, who still has a scowl on his face.

“Oh, come on…” he drawls. “She’s exactly what we’ve been talking about, isn’t she?”

The grump doesn’t answer, still with keen eyes watching you, even as you’ve fallen asleep—as if waiting for you to do something befitting a wild animal in a cage. The other’s eyes fall to the screen as well, but he only awes in delight.

“Look at her, already fast asleep,” he purrs while zooming in on your face. “I mean, did you see how she was begging earlier, what she said? I’d do anything,” he continues, almost whining. “So cute, I could have fucked her right then and there.”

The other man sets the tablet aside with a disagreeing sigh. “We’ll wait at least a week for her system to detoxify from the wasteland,” he says strictly. “I’m not touching her before then, and neither are you unless you want to sleep alone.”

The other groans then, flopping down on his back. “Yeah, yeah, you and your safety protocols,” he dismisses before a smirk creeps up his face, glee twinkling in his eyes as he looks up at his grouchy counterpart. “But then we keep her, right?”

“Tch—we don’t even know if she’s fertile. The wasteland could have made her barren as long as she’s been out there,” the other shuffles down into the sheets as well, turning to look at his partner and the awfully keen look on his face.

“So we test her. Give her a medical check,” he says, again as if it’s not a problem, even when it very well could turn out to be.

They’ve already broken quarantine rules by letting you in here—and who knows what your real objectives truly are.

“I don’t trust her,” he states.

The other pouts. “I don’t see what one little lady can do—she’s hardly a threat. And we already purged the group that was following her. I doubt any of them made it out alive.”

True, he had gone out and sent several gas grenades into the settlement. Surely, none of them managed to escape, but then again—

“Pest control only works when you kill them all, and we’ve just let one inside our own house,” he grumbles.

The other one sighs. “Okay, so if it turns out she isn’t as cute as she looks, we’ll deal with her like the rest. But if I’m right, and she really is just a harmless little thing, we keep her, and I get to have the first go.”

Suppose there isn’t anything better to do aside from killing you straight away, which would only have been a waste of food, water, clothes, and bandages. 

“Fine.”

The other grins at the agreeance, humming, “I guess until then, we’ll just have to make do with each other—I've been hard since we watched her shower.” He leans forward for contact but is shut down as his bedmate rolls around with his back turned to him.

“Tch—take care of it yourself.” Tonight has been too stressful to tug each other’s dicks. 

He can hear him whine behind him, but he settles down soon enough.

Suppose it would be nice fucking a woman again. It’s been so many years he figured he wouldn’t need it anymore. They’ve made do with each other so far. But even he can’t deny, once you’d washed all the blood and muck off, once he saw the dewy hue of your soft skin and the silk of your hair, all those plush curves, and not to mention that awfully sweet look on your face—he felt the tug in his pants too.

He'll do a medical check on you tomorrow. He hopes you’re fertile. But even if you’re not, he might give in to the other’s wishes and keep you anyway. After all, they might have many luxuries, but the comfort of pussy is one they haven’t had in a long, long, long time.

♡ BNHA – KiriBaku, BakuDeku, ShinKami, DabiHawks, EndHawks, ErasurMic ♡ JJK – SatoSugu, ItaFushi, SukuIta, ♡ HQ – Miya twins, KageHina, BokuAka, ♡ CSM – AkiDen, YoshiDen ♡ BLLK – NagiReo

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[somanyratsinthewalls]

congrats on 900 followers! id like to request for a mixture of prompt 9 and 19 with maroon (mihawk) — not particularly smut but a bit of fluff included in it, have a good day or night!

-anon 🪐

Coincidence (+18)

THANK YOU ANON FOR REQUESTING! (Sorry I made it smut but theres plenty of angst cuteness too)

Pairing: Dracule Mihawk x Female Pirate!Reader

Prompts: “It’s fine. We’re all adults. We can sleep in the same bed.” And “Getting you naked was only part of the plan.” 

WC: 2900

TWs: pet names, p in v sex, fingering, dirty talk, savior complex, previous alcohol mention, same bed! Swearing, kissing, idk? This is literally porn. 

— — 

“Good morning, little rabbit.” A low voice swims in your head. 

Your eyelids flutter open. Everything is blurry. You’re laying in sand. Rain is pouring and you’re chilled to the bone. 

*BOOM*

A clap of thunder snaps you fully awake and you start to cough up sea water. You heave yourself on your hands and knees to better expel the water from your stomach and lungs. 

“I was sure you’d never wake up.” The voice came from above you, clearer now. 

Once you caught your breath, you realized there was a pair of black boots in front of you in the wet sand. You crane your neck upwards to be met with the smug smirk of Dracule Mihawk, towering over you in the storm. 

“H-how? Y-you? W-what?” You croak out, body starting to shiver violently. 

“Now do you really want me to answer those questions right now, or would you like to come to my room at the inn down the road before The Great Pirate Y/n succumbs to hypothermia? An awful pitiful way to go out for a pirate captain, if you ask me.” He extends a hand to help you stand. 

You roll your eyes and push yourself to your feet on your own. 

Mihawk chuckles and lets his arm fall back to his side. 

“Allow me.” Mihawk gestures to offer for you to follow him and heads to the cobblestone road from the beach. You hated the idea of seeking aide at the hands of another pirate, let alone one as dangerous as him… but the chill in your body and the ache in your chest were forcing your hand. 

You follow him into town. 

— — 

After trying to keep up for several blocks, eventually Mihawk ducks into a nondescript establishment and holds the door open for you to follow. You step forward to move past him to enter the inn. 

The first floor was dimly lit with oil lanterns and smelled of rich red wine and a wood burning stove. There were only a few patrons seated around the bar, none of which turned to look at you as the door was opened. The doorway was narrow so you had to turn your body to enter as Mihawk was still holding the door for you. As you brush past his chest he leans in to your ear and whispers. 

“Stairs on the right. End of the hall. Be quick about it, before you drip all over the poor barkeeps floor.” His voice was low and teasing. 

A deep shiver ran down your spine. No doubt due to the cold, wet clothing you were wearing, of course. 

You nimbly flit up the stairs, sure that the former warlord was following closely behind as you could hear the clacking of his boots on the wooden steps. Mihawk catches up to you as you reach the door at the end of the hall. Without a word he uses a key to unlock the door and pushes it open for you. 

You step inside and are immediately met with the glow of firelight and the smell of cologne. Seeing the blazing fire in the fireplace, you rush to throw yourself to your knees on the bearskin rug laid out in front of the fire. 

You put your hands over the flames and you start to be able to feel your fingers again. You sigh in relief. After a few moments of enjoying the fire, you remember that you aren’t alone. Mihawk was standing against the wall, just watching you… arms crossed and feathered hat cocked to one side. The firelight glinted like topaz off his deep golden eyes as you met his gaze. 

“How did you find me?” You manage to rasp out, finding your full voice again. 

“A little birdie told me you were on your way to make an arms deal with smugglers somewhere in the area. I knew you’d come alone and your foolhardiness would ignore the incoming storm. Figured you’d wash up on the shore sometime.” 

“A little bird? Or a little clown?” You quip back and rub your hands together over the blaze. “Stop talking like you know anything about me.” 

“Was I wrong?” Mihawk is quick to retort. “The Cross Guild has eyes and ears everywhere. I am privy to endless amounts of whereabouts and information on the Grand Line.” 

“And yet…” You stand. “With all that information at your disposal, you choose to end up here. Pursuing me.” You cock your head in inquiry. 

The corners of Mihawk’s mouth twitch upwards briefly before returning to his stoic expression. 

“You may wear my dressing gown for the night. You’ll catch your death if you spend another moment in those soaked rags.” The man says and nods towards the ensuite lavatory. 

You take a moment to weigh your options… you hated to admit, but Mihawk was right. You needed to fully dry off before you caught pneumonia or worse. You push past him without saying a word into the bathroom and close the door behind you. As you close the door you see a floor length robe made of exquisite purple silk… this must be the dressing gown he was referring to. You stripped yourself of your sea-water soaked clothing and laid them on the side of the clawfoot tub to dry. 

You looked in the mirror and were horrified. Your hair was tangled and your skin was littered with abrasions and decorated with sand and small wood debris from the wreckage. 

You sigh. 

You grab the washcloth from the side of the sink and turn on the knobs. Once the water was warm you soaked the cloth in the water and gently cleaned your face and body. The soothing temperature of the washcloth allowed you to relax more and you let our a long sigh as you rubbed your aching neck. 

You set the washcloth down and straightened your hair the best you could, sorting out the tangles and knots with your nimble fingers. 

Once satisfied you picked Mihawk’s dressing gown off the hook behind the bathroom door. It was crafted of a fine royal purple silk with intricate gold embroidery on the collar and the sleeves. You slip it on and cinch the tie around your waist, fully covering yourself. It was a bit large, seeing as Mihawk was much bigger than you, so the left shoulder began to fall as soon as you left the bathroom. 

You enter the suite and your eyes find Mihawk’s hat and jacket discarded on the armchair. 

You hear the gentle sound of liquid being poured and you turn your head. You were met with a shirtless Mihawk clad in nothing but sleeping trousers, pouring two heavy glasses of brandy on the end table next to the bed. This was the first time you realized there was nowhere else for you to sleep than the singular king-sized bed in the center of the room. 

“No need to worry. We’re all adults here. There should be no issue sharing a bed.” Mihawk approaches you with two glasses of brandy in hand. “Feeling better?” He asks, almost playful. He extends a glass to you. 

You take it. 

“Aye. A bit.” You say as you take the glass of alcohol, your fingertips brushing against his as you grip the cup. Suddenly you were reminded of the last time you shared a drink with this particular man… 

Your cheeks flushed and you looked to the floor. You had been so caught up in the drama of being shipwrecked and half-dead that you had forgotten the last time you had seen Dracule Mihawk… 

“Why did you come here? Just to get me naked in your hotel room?” You ask. 

Mihawk turns his back to you and sits on the bed. 

“Oh darling, getting you naked was only part of my plan. You deal in arms… The Cross Guild happens to be in the market. I thought we could strike a friendly deal, little rabbit.” Mihawk sips his brandy. “We can offer triple whatever that scoundrel was willing to pay.” 

“Well the cargo has been lost since the ship crashed but… wait how did you know I’d be here? This island?”  You take a sip of you drink for courage. “You were accurate enough to know when and where I’d wash ashore? How?”

Mihawk smirks. He rises from the bed and fishes his hand into his trouser pocket. He steps closer to you. He pulls out a piece of soggy paper from his pocket and holds it in two fingers in front of your face. 

“You don’t remember slipping me this?” Mihawk coos as the scrap of paper drips a bit onto the floor in between you both. 

“My..” You gasp softly upon the realization of what he was holding in his hand.

“Yes, rabbit, your vivre card. You stuffed it into my jacket before you scampered off. You don’t recall?” Mihawk says, teasingly, cocking his head down to catch your avoidant gaze. 

It was all coming back to you now…

Five months ago…

It was a loud, shady pirate bar on some shit-hole island your crew had docked at to resupply. It had been days since your ship’s booze supply had run dry and you used the opportunity to get good and sauced at the local tavern. At some point in your revelry, Dracule Mihawk had entered the very same bar and somehow you ended up on his lap… despite how much you claimed you despised him. How did it happen? Maybe a few featherlight touches across your waist… maybe a few dirty little nothings whispered in your ear… but all you could remember now was you melted like putty in his strong arms in the corner of a filthy dive bar. The memory was foggy but you remember stroking the sides of Mihawk’s carefully groomed beard and pushed your lips onto his with passion… 

“You remember now, yes?” The voice snaps you back to the present. 

You say nothing, embarrassed. You take another large gulp of brandy. 

“I-I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” You rush past the large man in front of you and whip the comforter open. You slide in the bed. “W-we can talk business in the morning.” 

“If you wish.” Mihawk says with a sigh. 

Mihawk sets his glass down on the side table and extinguishes most of the candles in the room, leaving a few to burn to the wick overnight. You feel the comforter move across your body and the mattress beside you dip. You curl on your side away from the man laying beside you. You shudder, the chill of being nearly drowned still wracking your bones. 

“You’re freezing.” Mihawk states before smoothly shifting to his side and wrapping his arm around your side. Your body tenses and he feels it. “So shy now, but not as much the last time we met?” You feel his hot breath against your ear. 

“Well, we were drunk, so…” You huff out, trying to ignore the flush growing in your cheeks. 

“And yet…” Mihawk starts. He slides his hand down your bicep to your hip, then further down to your thigh. His palm reaches your knee and gently pulls on it to hook your leg over his own, successfully opening your legs up for him. “Here you are now, completely sober and still soft and open for me…” 

Your breath catches in your throat, unable to respond. Mihawk’s strong hand climbs up your torso again, this time gliding across your stomach and into your robe to grip your right breast softly. You gasp as he squeezes and runs his thumb across your nipple. 

You feel a gentle grind of Mihawk’s hips against your backside, shuddering as you distinctly make out the largeness of his member between your cheeks. The former warlord’s nose nuzzles your scalp sweetly as he presses his lips closer to your ear. 

“Do you feel that? I’ve been waiting so long since you ran away…” Mihawk whispers as he presses his hardened cock further into you. “Tell me… little rabbit… why did you run from me?” 

You press your ass back harder into Mihawk’s pelvis and whine. 

“No no, tell me. I was ready to take you to my chambers and ravish you until the sun rose….” Mihawk purrs as he slides his hand from your breast to between your legs and cups your mound. “Tell me why you fled my arms that night.” He presses his middle finger on your seam, gently stimulating your clit. 

“I… I don’t know…” You manage to croak out. 

“That isn’t true, darling… you know that.” Mihawk begins to rub your sex in gently circles with 3 fingers, softly encouraging you to give in to him. 

“I…I didn’t… want…” You sigh and lean your head back into Mihawks face. 

“You didn’t want what, love? Tell me.” Mihawk leans up further and kisses up your neck to the spot behind your ear. With your arousal growing,  he spreads your folds and uses a single digit to press into your exposed, throbbing clit. 

“Y-you were going to- Ah!” You were interrupted by the sensation of Mihawk dipping a finger shallowly into your hole to gather your wetness to smear across your clit, further heightening your pleasure. “You were going to leave… It- it would have- oh god!” You cry out as two thick fingers suddenly breach your entrance and curve right up into your sweet spot. 

“It would have bothered you to see me leave, little rabbit?” Mihawk teases and leans forward over your shoulder. He slowly pulls out his fingers before pushing them back inside to pull at your favorite spot again. He torturously slowly continues fingering you, feeling the way your insides pulse everything now and then around him, pushing out more of your slick to coat his hand further. “You think I would have let you go without me?” 

You turn your head and open your eyes. You meet Mihawk’s gaze from over your shoulder. You were half drunk on the feeling of his fingers inside of you, but you were almost certain he was confessing to you. 

“Y-you.. Shit- more… please…” You moan and buck your hips upwards into Mihawks hand, trying to get more stimulation. 

“Tch.” He clicks his tongue. “Sweet girl wants more? Already? You must have been thinking about this just as much as I have…” Mihawk says as he speeds up the pace of his fingers inside of you. 

The grind of his palm against your slick clit in combination of his fingers hammering up and down against your special spot quickly sent you careening over the edge of climax. 

“My Gods- Mihawk!” You cry out as you feel yourself gush against your lovers hand and your shoulders shudder forward. 

“There it is, what a good girl you are.” Mihawk slows the pace of his fingers and pulls them out of you gingerly. “I haven’t stopped thinking about the vulgar sounds and expressions you might make when you cum, and it’s far surpassed my imagination.” Mihawk shifts and positions himself on his knees between your legs. “Now let me see it again.” He rubs his tip up and down your wet slit, teasing his mushroom head at your hole. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you don’t and we go back to being adversaries and forget this ever happened.” He purrs down at you. 

“I.. I want this. Please…” You get out through shaky breaths, still recovering from your orgasm. You reach your hand down to wrap over Mihawk’s hand on his member, guiding him to push into you. 

“Anything you want, my rabbit.” He coos as he presses hard into your body, letting out a groan as he bottoms out against your cervix. You squeal and claw at his chest, cunt clenching around his length unpredictably. “Let me take care of you…” 

Mihawk wraps one arm around your torso to push you down further onto his cock while supporting himself with his other one. He leans down and smashes his lips into yours. He kisses you hard as he picks up the pace of his thrusts. You squeak against his lips each time his cock drags against your sweet spot, your body riding up further on the bed with every hard thrust into your sopping pussy. 

Mihawk pulls back. 

“I knew that night I was going to take you back with me. I’ve known for a long time that you were mine… but that night you slipped away…” Mihawk  huffs out down at you. 

You could do nothing but moan in response as you find yourself approaching your high once again. 

“Oh, fuck, oh!” Your mouth drops open as you cum, cradling Mihawk’s face against yours as you scream. Your hips buck and you whimper as your sensitivity starts to get the better of you. 

“You’re mine, y/n. Ah-“ 

With a final gasp and a hard thrust, you feel your lover flood your insides with his warm spend. 

You flinch a bit as you feel the still twitching cock slip from your hole, walls still so slick and sensitive. You were flipped around gently and pulled into Mihawk’s broad chest. You nuzzle sleepily between his pectorals. After several moments of comfortable silence, you break the peace. 

“There was never any business deal, was there?” You ask. 

“No of course not.” Mihawk says with a gentle kiss to the top of your head. 

-- --

[party-snake]

First-aid

Sebastian x Fem! Reader

I highly suggest you play Pressure before reading this.

While hiding from Pandemonium, you get pretty scratched up. Sebastian patches you up.

Tw: Fear, blood, Near death experience, Almost fainting, Slightly suggestive(?), Praise

❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀

"Good, more data for Sebastian." You smile, picking up the files and putting them in the pouch he gave you. Peeking in the last desk drawer, you take the last usb drive you can find. "Okay, door 49. I hope Sebastian is around." Heat slow creeps to your face as you think of the sassy fish. 895 data sounds like just enough for a flashlight and a few other things.

You giggle lightly and walk towards the door. It slides open and immediately the lights begin to flicker. Fear sinks into your heart with it's metal claws and you dash for the nearest locker. That noise of the lights triggers your fight of flight, having done this so many times. Waiting a bit for the Angler to come, your thoughts are interupted by an ear piercing screech.

Pandemonium's gaping mouth is visible from the other side of the room and you jump, opening the locker and slamming the doors shut. It's presence is immediately clear as it stares you down from just outside the locker. You hold the doors shut as it slams into the locker, desperately trying to get to you. The gross sounds of the decomposing monster just outside the metal walls almost makes you gag.

The only sound you can hear is your own heartbeat as it rams into the doors. You look down and gasp as part of the locker has bent in on itself. 'Shit.' You mentally curse, knowing you only have seconds before the locker comes apart from the stress. It's eyes pierce into your soul, death staring you directly in the face.

Part of the metal comes apart, slicing into your right leg. Screaming bloody murder as the metal cuts through your leg like a knife through butter. The creature growls and gives up, leaving you bloody and sweaty. Your vision goes spotty as your arms release their death grip on the handles.

You start falling forward, the locker door swinging open. The concrete floor does nothing to cushion your fall as you make contact with it's cold embrace. Your arm takes the brunt of the fall and you groan in pain, flipping over slightly to assess the damage.

The metal of the locker is curved inwards slightly, your blood still visable on it. Your uniform is ripped from the ankle to half way up your thigh. It had taken most of the damage, but it still hurt like hell. It was definitely going to leave a scar. One to add to the pile.

You shakely get up, using a desk to steady yourself. Accidentally putting pressure on the sliced leg, you whimper. '050' the next door reads. Your vision is spotty as you cover your eyes with one hand. Your brain must be tricking you into thinking those are the eyes of the Eyefestation.

You hobble your way to the door and it slides open. An industrial light points towards a vent and you breath a sigh of relief. It flings open and his deep voice calls out to you. "Got something for you. Come here." You chuckle and limp towards the vent, getting on your working three limbs and army crawling your way towards him.

Your head peeks out from the vent opening and his light flickers on. "I just knew it would be you. Welcome back hun." He chuckles, as arms swinging out dramatically before he clasps his hands in front of him. "Hi Seb." You smile. Continuing out of the vent, your leg dragging behind you. "Woah, what happened there?" He gasps. "Um, Pandemonium." You put a hand behind your head.

"Now that won't do." He leans down and picks a first aid kit off the table. "Sit down right there. Don't move." Confusion is written all over your face as you do as your told, sitting down and trying not to put any unnecessary pressure on your leg. He flops down infront of you, one arm holding him up, the other holding the first aid kit. "Poor thing. You must've been so scared."

His hand comes up and caresses your cheek. You lean into it and sigh, nodding silently. His other arm lifts him up, wrapping around your waist and taking him with you. "You're extremely lucky I was right here." He chides, though his tone holds no actual venom. He sighs and leans back, placing you on his tail. You look back and notice his whale end blocking the vent entrance.

"Let me see that leg sweetheart." Leaning back, trying your best to lift it up, he gently grasps it in his clawed hand. His other hand trails up your leg and comes to the top of your pants. A small gasp escapes your lips and you whimper.

"Such a pretty noise. Can I take these off darling?" His voice is low and seductive, teasing, almost. Your cheeks flare up and you nod. "Good girl." He goes slow, taking off the pant leg on your non-injured side before switching to the next. As he begins peeling it off your leg you whine.

The tight swim suit rubs against your cut and you bite your tongue to avoid crying out. "Almost done love. Such a good girl." You look away, trying not to focus on his words. That proves difficult though. He pulls it the rest of the way off and discardes it beside him. "So. How did it cut you this badly?" He lifts your leg up slightly, investigating the cut. "The locker I was hiding in was broken a little bit. The metal cut me."

He tsks. "You should be a little more observant next time, you could be infected." He grabs the bottle of alcohol and applies it on a pad, wiping your cut. It stings, but not to badly. Must be the adrenaline. The guaze comes next, his hands wrapping them around the cut. Spots of blood peek through the gauze and he secures it with medical tape.

"There you go." He sets your leg down and you straddle his tail. "Thanks Seb. How much will that be?" You giggle. "Hm. 1,000 data." You laugh. "That's funny Seb." His hands wrap around your waist. "Oh no. I wasn't joking." Your giggles die out and you stare up at him. "Really?" His eyes are serious as he smiles down at you. "Really." You stare down. "I don't have-" His laughs cut you off.

"Come on love, you'd really think i'd charge you for that?" He wipes and imaginary tear and you flush with embarrassment. "I-I should get going." You say, and he hums. "Nope. You're not going anywhere." You huff. "But the crystal-" He silences you with a kiss. "The crystal can wait my love. You need rest." He booped your nose.

You looked away and thought for a moment. "Alright. But only for a few minutes." He nods and you lay down on his chest. Your eyes flutter shut as his voice lulls you to sleep. "Sweet dreams hun."

I decided to make another one sense you guys really loved the last one I made. The next one will be smut for you horny people. Stay tuned...

[randomreadingtimewithtsuki]

I SAID I’D BE BACK FOR SECONDS AND NOW I AM!

Another Dr. Stone request if you will~

How do you think the wise generals (+Tsukasa) would react to their partner getting a serous injury or seeing their partner having a near death experience (kinda like Ginro during treasure island where they have to be petrified to be saved maybe?)

😋

Hello! Thank you for coming by again!

I hope this is of liking, please let me know what you think!

TW: Mentions of injury and blood.

Tsuki's note: Children, DO NOT move anyone that has been injured or tht has fainted. Call for help first, then tend to the person ( CPR, Pressure, etc...), but do not move them!! you could complicate their situation.

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Gen

Poor boy freaked out.

He saw your blood running, pooling around you.

He was dying to know what happened, why you were so terribly hurt.

He didn't really know what to do. Hold you? Hug you? Call someone?

Thankfully Senku thought fast and decided to petrify you to rescue you.

He sternly told Gen the details will have to come later, you saving you came first.

Gen had his heart in his mouth.

He couldn't hold your hand while you were being petrified.

But he could talk to you sweetly.

Well, you couldn't be depetrified yet. It had to take a few days to make sure you were fully healed.

While you were a stone Gen would talk to you daily, very briefly.

He also requested Yuzuriha to make your clothes and already have you dressed.

As soon as you were Revived, he hugged you tightly

Saying over and over again how worried he was and how glad he was to have you back.

After this sweet reunion, it was time to fill in the team with the details of how you ended up busted.

Gen would be very anxious if you had to go somewhere dangerous again.

he would try to convince you to stay, but he wouldn't push it too much, he knows everyone has their own roles on the kingdom of science.

Senku

Senku looked calm. He just looked like it.

When he realized you bought time for him and got hurt in the process, his heart sank.

But he had to deal with the issue at hand.

When he was done with the biggest issue, he went to your aid.

You were bleeding like crazy.

He didn't show it, but he was freaking out.

He knew one option would be to petrify you or try to suture you.

Petrifying was the best option - it had less risk of infections and complications.

So a statue you became.

Before you did become a statue, Senku you reassured you would be fine. After all you did this with Ryusui and Tsukasa so, you would be ok too.

You just needed a couple of days to be sure you would be 100% ok.

He didn't need to request Yuzuriha to make new clothes for you, she already knew what to do.

When you came back, Senku had a glint of relieve and happiness in his eyes.

If you chose to hug him, he would hug you too. If not, then he would just pat your head and say " Welcome back, you idiot".

Senku wouldn't mind if you went back doing dangerous things, but he would double check to see if you are ok.

Ryusui

Ryusui didn't quite notice the exact moment you got hurt - he himself was busy trying not to die too.

As soon as a little bit of safety was regained, he searched for you. Scanned the whole area with his eyes.

When he saw you, badly hurt and bleeding a lot, he panicked.

He dashes towards you, gently placing a hand on your shoulder, but he did not let transpire how worried he was.

He held a serious, yet calm expression and asked Francois to find help for you.

He stayed by your side through the whole decision making of petrifying you.

He agreed it was the option.

Ryusui reassured you would be fine, after all, he was too! Just trust the process and Senku.

He promised to give/do whatever you wanted once you healed up.

As soon as you became a statue again, Ryusui let his bravado down. He was worried sick.

He asked Yuzuriha to make you fancy clothes.

He also came by to see you for the short days you had to stay like that to heal.

Once you were broken free, the first thing you heard was his laugh and his fingers snapping.

He hugged tightly, but gently.

From then onwards he made to keep an eye on you or ask Francois to do so.

Chrome

Another poor boy that would panic a lot.

When he found you hurt, on the floor, he began to cry.

You were trying to tell him you would be ok.

He asked Kohaku to grabs Senku or anyone to help you.

He didn't left your side for anything.

Upon Senku's arrival, it was decided you would be petrified again.

Chrome was mumbling if this was the only way and well, it's not but it is the safest route.

He wanted to hold your hand while you were in the medusa range, but he couldn't.

So he kept loudly saying you would be ok while crying.

Ruri and Yuzuriha fetched you some clothes to dress your statue.

Chrome would talk to you about the days event. And always promise to fill you in again once you started moving.

When you are revived, He hugged you so tightly and so abruptly you fell backwards.

He was crying again, but this time out of relief.

You couldn't help smile at this fool.

After his he became very wary of letting you go on your own to unknown places.

Ukyo

Ukyo saw the moment you were hit.

He immediately ran to you while calling your name.

He didn't waste a second to seek for help.

From the looks of your injury you would probably need to be petrified.

Ukyo stayed by your side the whole time, having a worried, yet calm expression.

He tried his best to reassure you you would be fine.

After you became a statue again, he kindly asked Yuzuriha to make some clothes for you.

He would come by to see you and talk to you a bit.

Counting down out loud how long it would take to have you back.

Once you were revived, he hugged you tightly and gave a big sigh of relief.

He would ask you to be more careful next time and he would make sure to have you in his sight, so he could shoot any danger that could harm you.

Tsukasa

He didn't quite see when you got hurt.

Much like Ryusui, he was also trying to stay alive and Tsukasa is usually in the front lines.

After the danger was gone the first thing he did was look for you.

When he found you hurt, He kneeled next to you, gently helping you up and seeing your wound.

He would pick you up ( if your wound allowed it) and carry you to Senku.

Tsukasa would hold your hand as your injury was being check, surprisingly he wasn't holding too strongly, it was very gentle.

When it was decided it would be best to petrify you, he reassured you would be ok. After he was revived like that too.

He promised he would be next to you when you woke up and he smiled.

Not once Tsukasa showed how worried and angry he was. No, not at you, at himself and whoever laid hands on you.

Once you became a statue, he asked Yuzuriha a favor to make you new clothes.

Tsukasa would come by your statue and smile. He didn't speak much to you, he just did a promise to find who hurt.

Once you are back, he holds you by your shoulders asking how you feel, before hugging you.

After this, he makes sure you are safe or with a team that can keep you safe.

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Thank you for reading!

[ohdeerfully]

Spoilers ahead for the final episode!

Imagine reader being a healer for others but is cursed to not being able to heal themselves.

Like during the final battle, their skills are heavily relied on while they also fight along side them. Afterwards they rush to find their lover Alastor to heal the wound on his abdomen. Poor thing was so worried about healing him that they forgot about patching up themselves.

hello everybody im alive........... hello hold your applause /j

i got two very similar requests so i combined them into one! hope thats alright with the two anons! hugs and kisses

Stitches

alastor x reader (fluff) TW: nothing serious, just some briefly graphic(ish) descriptions of violence/gore, reader referred to as female but doesnt influence plot

join my discord!

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It was supposed to be “no big deal” for him; that’s what he had promised you. You worried, of course, but knew better than to pester and beg for him to change his mind. Plus… of all demons to hold back Adam, Alastor seemed like the most capable. You had to trust him. He promised.

You were in the midst of slaying an Exterminator of your own, cutting it down with a sword lined in angelic steel, but you couldn’t help that your train of thought kept returning to the Radio Demon, who was currently on the roof of the Hotel maintaining a forcefield that prevented more angels from joining the battle.

You allowed your eyes to glimpse up towards said roof even though you knew it’d be impossible to see him from your position on the ground. You had looked just in time, however, to see the shield that surrounded the battleground begin to dissolve, an opening blooming around the figure of Adam. 

A sickly cold feeling of dread churned down your spine and into your stomach, but you forced yourself to stay focused. Alastor would be fine, surely. It’s not like he said it was an invincible shield. You had other things to worry about, anyway, when you realized a wasp-like swarm of Exterminators had made their way in from the dissolving forcefield, their glittering white wings and shining angelic weapons molding together in a blur.

You fought along a small group of demons from Cannibal Town, providing aid and healing when possible. It seemed to go on for hours; stab an angel, tear one away from a companion, heal, stab, save, heal… it somehow began to feel monotonous and repetitive. Your whole body stung, littered with wounds ranging in extremity, but you couldn’t stop. Not if you were going to win this thing.

That monotony was broken when the chaos halted for a brief moment—not even a second. You had seen Charlie looking up in… fear? Shock? So, you looked, and your breath hitched. It took you a moment to process.

Why was Adam flying above, looming, grinning, analyzing… Why, when Alastor was supposed to be keeping him occupied? The immediate answer that came to mind brought back that sickening feeling from earlier, but increased a hundredfold. It seemed that Charlie also had a similar idea.

You couldn’t ignore the feeling this time and, against your better judgment, took off towards the crumbling Hotel, abandoning your position as healer. They could wait, honestly. The pounding in your ears and anxiety in your body clouded the sensation of angelic spears grazing past you, filling your already burdened body with more gashes.

You were halted by a powerful beat of wings, wind pushing you backwards onto your back. You scrambled into a sitting position, leaning on your arms. All of the aching, stinging pain from the night seemed to rush in all at once because of the interruption, and you could barely keep your eyes steady on the man in front of you.

The first man, at that—standing all too high-and-mighty above you, a twisted grin curling up his mask. 

“Hey, bitch,” He said almost casually, grabbing you by the hair and lifting you up to be eye level with him. You stifled a pained cry at the sensation, though your eyes filled with tears, betraying both your fear and pain. You hated yourself for looking so weak in front of Adam, but you were almost too exhausted to mask it.

“The fuck did you do to Alastor?” You talked through a mouthful of blood. You spat some out in his face, to which the grip on your head tightened but he seemed otherwise unbothered. You did see a glint of madness in his eyes, though.

“So you’re that fine babe of his?” Adam mocked, looking up and down tastelessly. You didn’t expect much more from the ‘dickmaster’ but you couldn’t help but feel disgusted. “Satan’s daughter told me all about you when she was trying to tell me you gross fucks could be redeemed.”

He started rambling out a multitude of insults and curses. It seemed fitting, you thought, that the stuck-up first man would be too full of himself to keep his guard up and just start going off on a tangent about how cool and awesome he is versus how gross and weak your kind is.

“I mean, the fuck? You all sucked ass at being alive, so why the shit would we let you up into heaven? And, quite frankly, too fucking ugly to live up th—” He choked on the last few words he had, his eyes widening in shock and pain. He dropped you to the ground.

During his rant you had managed to use your heel to kick up a stray spear from beneath you. His tirade had given you enough time to balance the weapon between your feet, aim, and jam it forward into his stomach. The robe he wore darkened, glistening gold seeping into the fabric and from the hole you punctured into him.

“You–” He spat, hovering his shaking hands around the impaled spear. He gingerly pressed a hand against the wound, lifting his bloody palm to his face to look at the mess. He looked up, down, up again, and took a quivering step towards you. There were a million expressions in his eyes all at once; rage, fear, pain, disgust… 

“You fucking bitch,” He took another step, reached a hand out towards you. “You can’t kill me! Nobody can kill Adam! You’re just a worthless, sick, good-for-nothing sinner that couldn’t—fuck!” He stumbled and fell forward, and you jerked away as his fist nearly closed around the hem of your shirt. As much as you hated the guy and wanted him dead, you still cringed at the sight of him falling onto the spear and impaling it completely through his body.

You heard a distant cry of his name, but you didn’t hesitate to see who it was. You took off into the hotel, albeit slowed by a painful limp, and made your way up the stairs towards the radio tower.

There was an ominous feeling in the air as you ascended the ladder into the nearly demolished tower, slowly opening the hatch into the room. An intense, static-y feeling smothered your senses, hair raising and skin prickling at the sensation. You ignored the uncomfortable feeling and peered around the dark room. 

Claw marks and a trail of blood caught your attention, leading your eyes towards a corner where the demon you wanted to see most sat against. He had been wordlessly watching you with glowing red eyes since you entered.

“Al,” You said almost breathlessly as you rushed forward, ignoring the way your leg shot pain throughout your body in protest. You fell gracelessly to your knees in front of him.

“I don’t want you here,” He said rather plainly, a hiss in his voice as he spoke through his teeth and a grimace of a smile. You ignored the comment, eyes traveling over his body before settling on his palm, which was pressed against his abdomen. There was a still-growing patch of dark blood seeping through his shirt and between his fingers.

You reached your hand out towards him, flinched to a halt for a moment when his claws tightened around the fabric of his shirt, but continued. He made no move otherwise to stop you, but you could feel the tension in the air growing as the static ambience got louder.

“I can take care of myself,” He said, his other hand suddenly snatching your wrist. His grin widened, but his eyes narrowed. You frowned at him.

“Yeah, but it’d be a lot easier for me to just fix you now,” You retorted, trying to jerk your hand away from his grip. He didn’t yield. “If you stop being so damn stubborn.”

“I’ve dealt with much worse, my dear,” He continued to convince you to leave him alone, his voice smooth with that manipulatively suave voice he put on sometimes. Unluckily for him, though, you were just as stubborn as him.

“But I’m here this time to help you,” You finally managed to free your wrist from him, your sharp expression unwavering from his own, which seemed equally aggravated. Maybe he was too weak to actually stop you, or maybe he actually did want your help and just wouldn’t admit it, but he didn’t stop you from lifting his bloodied hand from his wound.

You pursed your lips at the grizzly sight, but said nothing. You ignored the stinging smell of blood that flooded your nose. You hovered your hands over the wound, channeling the energy in your body that granted you the ability to rapidly heal others. A faint light flowed from your palm and into the gash across Alastor’s torso, forming glowing stitches that weaved throughout the damaged skin.

Periodically glancing up at his face as you worked, you watched for any sign that told you to stop, but it never came. He stayed silent the whole time, which was… rare, from him. You would never admit this out loud, but Alastor seemed almost… pitiful, in this silent, weakened state. The Radio Demon himself, reduced to a bloodied, passive husk of himself.

After healing so many demons during the battle outside, you had spent so much energy. You were already so weak and exhausted, but you pushed yourself to force just a bit more—

“There,” With a weak sigh, you sat back, admiring your own handiwork. Even though it was magic, it did take some mental ability to know how to use your power. “Was that so hard?” You chided him jokingly.

He gingerly drug a clawed finger down the stitches, analyzing it for himself. 

“I have to admit,” He began, looking up at you. “It would have been nice to have you in my early years as— dear?”

You barely heard what he was saying as all of your senses seemed to get foggy all at once. Your vision blurred and speckled, you ears felt muffled, and you swayed with lightheadedness. You pressed a hand to your face, trying to steady your breath.

“I’m good,” Your voice came out in a quiver. “I think I just—”

You don’t necessarily even remember fainting, but reason that you must have as you stared at the ceiling above you. You woke up ten minutes ago, and spent the time piecing together everything that happened. How much time has passed since then? A couple hours? Days? It was hard to say. Though, you thought as you looked around. The hotel looks… damn good all things considered. 

The door creaked open and your ears perked at the sound of a familiar voice humming some tune that you couldn’t recognize. Considering the atmosphere wasn’t tense, you actually welcomed the prickling, static-like sensation that Alastor’s presence brought. 

“Ah, the sleeping beauty awakes!” He announced pleasantly, setting a plate rattling with two neat little glasses of warm liquid on the bedside table. You eyed them and quirked your eyebrow.

“Seems you were ready for it,” You said, commenting on the fact that he brought two cups.

“Well, what kind of man would I be if I wasn’t au fait to my darling’s status?” He explained, clasping his hands behind his back and leaning over you. He would never admit that he brought up two cups every time he checked on you just in case. 

His overall demeanor seemed appropriately confident and indifferent, but his eyes held an uncharacteristic look of tenderness and worry as he looked over you, analyzing your condition. He sat at the edge of the bed, picking that plate up again and offering you a cup.

You sat up against the headboard and took it with a light smile, warming your hands on the smooth surface. You enjoyed the aroma of the tea, and you realized it was your favorite. How sweet.

The room was silent, save for the quiet sound of a radio that seemed to just… radiate from him… but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Now that you were sitting up, you took the chance to look down and over yourself. Bandages were wrapped tightly over your arms, chest, stomach, legs… basically everywhere. You were suddenly all too aware of the dull ache that afflicted your entire body.

When you looked up, you noticed Alastor had been looking at you rather intensely. His expression was weird and unreadable. You tightened your lips awkwardly at the strangely passionate look in his eyes, looking into random directions to try to ignore it. You tried to concentrate on taking another sip from the cup in your hand, bu, to your dismay, it was already empty. You sat it down on the plate.

“How’s my stitchwork holding up?” In an attempt to dissipate your own awkwardness, you reached towards his abdomen. He caught your hand gently, directing it away from himself. But he didn’t let go.

“No doctor in all of Hell could have done better,” He complimented. He still had a hint of that weird expression. “If only you could fix yourself up the same. Fortunately I have some experience from my time alive…” He trailed off.

You couldn’t contain yourself anymore, jumping forward and tightening your arms around his neck. The static in the air sharpened for a brief second, matching the tenseness in his body, but slowly returned to a normal frequency. After a few more seconds, you felt him slide his own arms around your waist, pressing you against himself.

“You scared the fuckin’ shit out of me,” You said, voice muffled by his coat. “I thought Adam killed you. I thought I was going to find your body buried under the rubble.”

“So you avenged me by killing Adam yourself? I appreciate it,” He remarked lightly, a slight chuckle rumbling from his chest. His voice was low, breath tickling your ear as he held you with a feather-light but somehow still firm grip. 

Alastor was quiet for another moment, and you realized the static in the air had completely dissipated. You also realized the pressure of his arms wrapped around you was getting increasingly tighter.

“You worried me as well,” He said finally. “You were out like a hibernating bear for days. You worried everyone.” You pulled your head out from the crook of his neck and met his gaze.

“Can’t a gal get her beauty rest?” You joked softly, bumping your shoulder against him playfully. He swayed for a moment at the contact, but the eye contact never broke. Wait, was he getting closer? 

Instinctually your eyes closed, and the briefest kiss was placed on your lips, then your nose, then your forehead. Before you could open your eyes, Alastor placed his hand on your head and pressed you back against his chest. He then began rubbing his hand gently on your back in a soothing motion.

Despite being in bed for apparently days, you still felt tired. You sank into him as his claws drug gentle shapes against your skin, careful to avoid bandaged spots. He hummed a quiet tune, and you noticed his microphone of a cane, which was laying against the bedside table, emitted an accompanying song.

“Maybe redemption isn’t all that,” You commented with a sigh, lazily picking at the hem of Alastor’s collar.

“Hmm?” He prompted you to continue.

“Is Hell really so bad if you’re with your favorite soul?” It felt corny to say, but you couldn't really find a better way to phrase it. Plus, you couldn't take this rare moment of tenderness for granted.

His hand paused for a moment, and he gently squeezed your arm in response. You felt him press another light kiss to the top of your head.

“I know, now,” He finally replied. “Just the feeling.”

[roamingleaf]

"When Beauty Learned that Nightmares Existed"

Tw: R@pe, Gang, Medieval, Princess, Riot, Creampie, Degrading

Long Ago, there was a Kingdom that held the prettiest princess in all the lands. Her skin was as soft to the touch as a warm summer breeze. They say her eyes glowed the most radiant hazel any person had ever seen. While her body could only be described as an angel who had fallen from the heavens to bless mortals with their esteemed beauty. There were few who could deny that her radiance was something nature must have constructed carefully. Yet her father was a bitter old man who could not learn from his foolish follies.

However, this all boiled over at an unfaithful crossroad one day; That beauty wouldn't do her any favors as the poor started to take to the streets. With a sea of pitchfork and hells fire crashing into the gates of the castle the Princesses beauty would be the reason her fate was already sealed. Before the poor deer knew it, shouts, slurs, and uncertainty beckoned at her fairweather door. Frozen by the winter of fear the time for escape had long past for our posh princess.

Within seconds of those murmuring bosks falling silent her door swung open with the force of a thousand burning suns. Before the crackling torchlight of these rebellious hooligans stood our frightened unsuspecting host. It was true what they said. Her frightened, water logged eyes may have been dampened but they managed to illuminate the room more than any torch ever could. Dressed in an eerily glistening emerald gown that revealed much of that princesses curveous canvas, her brain started to feel the weight of a mighty fog settling in as the gaze of monsters fell upon her.

There would be no words as some of the men could no longer contain their excitement. A cackling chorus of pitchforks klanking against the cold floor could be heard as they rushed in. Each one of those dreaded demons decided to detain the doe where she stood. One gentleman -if you could even consider these rabid dogs- took her by her wrist pulling them both behind her with one smooth motion. As another fell to his knees, not for worship or aid, oh no it was too shamelessly press his lips against her exposed navel through that scanty attire.

Struggling was sadly not in this poor dolls nature. The king foolishly preached into her that if she was ever to be captured to do as they said, help would be on its way. Yet, unannounced to this slighted advice her guards had all but laid slaughtered. From the gates, up the stairs, and even throughout the hallway. There would be no help coming.

As if hoisting a partial bag of grain she was flung onto her mattress as more men started to flood into the room. There would be too many for the princess to keep track of as her instincts to hide started to kick in. She headed for the safety of her pastel blankets. Though, that would not save her. Those too were ripped from her protective clutches to be flung out the window into the chaos unfolding in the streets down below. Understand, that night, lost in the sea of anger, passion, and depravity our princess did not plan on becoming a slave to cock. Yet, her portrait-like beauty that could rival any of the ancient wonders of the world sealed her submission.

Despite those guarding monsters managing to get towards the princess chambers, it seemed as if none of them were ready to be the first to do as they had seemingly desired to. That all was until one towering, grizzled, monster stepped from the crowd. His bloodstained, blonde hair all but hid his eyes leaving only a freshly acquired slash spilling from his lips. With only a few steps that giant had found himself on the Princess bed.

What would the Princess do now face to face with a giant? Before any fragile words could be mustered from her, his wartorn hands found themselves tightly wrapped around her neck. This sudden shock sent the princess into a whirlwind of emotions. Such force. Such vigor. Never before had this little princess been treated with such disregard. That holding grasp would be used to pin her head against the makeshift wooden headboard of her bed while his lips hungrily descended upon hers.

A daring, brazen, demon had done the unthinkable. He sullied the princess with his lips. But, he would not stop there. Like a slithering snake that led eve astray his tongue snuck between her petite lips to invade much more than her room.

Cheers, Applause, drunken cohoots could be heard starting to echo from the onlooking gallery. Who would encourage the defiling of such an innocent flower? Only monsters who must have been sent from the depths of hell. As this fiery festival started to get underway another similar sized giant stepped up to seize the spoils of war for his very own.

This man was bald; His face was withered by battle to the point that his full faded eyes showed nothing behind them. The bald one grasped at the poor princess's wrist to pull them towards his already throbbing, hardened cock that pushed against his trousers.

What a horrible night to have a curse of beauty. Men from every corner of the kingdom had succumbed to the blissful cooing of this freshly blossoming rose. In what felt like an eternity the brute who had dragged himself on top of her breakable body finally pulled from her lips to take a breath.

Gasping, almost heaving from the sheer amount of shock that was placed upon her from having her very first kiss stolen by some man whose name she did not know. Disgust could not begin to describe what was going through her head as her hands took hold of a warm, pulsating pole through this break. The night was young, and the rioters looked to be fed either blood and bodies. Our princess would be no different.

Enough would be enough, the time would come for her glowing, shrine of a body to be given to the pillagers. The bald one who had used her hands like they were a toy quickly moved to her vacant mouth. He had grown weary of their time. Animalistic urges had captured his mind by now; all that could be shown off it would be the fluid, forceful, frustrated thrusts he delivered between her lips. Such raw emotion. His hips were moving as if he was possessed by outer worldly forces.

Teary gargling could be heard bouncing from ear to ear as the crowd all but quieted down in the wake of the princesses violation. It seemed the new show being presented was enough to bring an utter hush as more men started to make their way out of the crowd to join the stage. Though her throat started to find ruin--her pink, hidden, garden would be left to grow wetter, and wetter to the symphony of her own throat being forcefully mishaped. In front of everyone, her captured canvas was rested on to her stomach still with some strangers cock housed snugly between the folds of her throat.

Then, her ass was raised into the air for all to watch as the hermit-like warrior plunged his mighty manhood in between the lips of her unused, untouched, undefiled pussy. The final seal has been broken. Blood started to dribble just a bit to prove our princess was once as pure as the fresh white snow. Now that purity was reduced to nothing more than a whores weight in bronze.

Her moans became a witches brew to the men who gathered around her violation with their cocks out and in hand. That evening, her body would be used under the anarchy of a new flag. The sins of the father would be paid for with the body of the daughter. Man, after man, after man took their turns leaving every ounce of sticky seed they had inside her pussy, throat, and ass. Some called it retribution, others Rape. Whichever the case, that broken, cum glazed, puzzle was left on the bed by sunrise a former shell of itself.

-🪶

[eldritch-spouse]

thoughts on vesper possessing the queens body and messing with lacai

TW: Consensual possession; Temporary body modification

Lacai isn't stupid.

He's a demon. An imp, but still a demon. He knows a possessed human when he sees one. Especially when the being pupeteering said body is as powerful as an Icon.

You're exuding a certain volatile, static energy from how much infernal influence is running through your body. Your eyes are much wider and your sclera is swiftly becoming as pink as that of the King's.

There's no hiding it, probably because both you and Vesper are producing stupid amounts of lustful energy as of now.

He couldn't take his eyes off you this morning, neither could the entire staff team, in his defense. Your breasts looked swollen, nipples stiffened and poking insistently through the sheer lace you chose to don as a top, connected to golden chains around your neck and the budding little horns you've been developing. Your own wetness clung to your inner thighs invitingly, and your clitoris seemed to have enlarged in an inhuman way, standing constantly at attention.

There's no doubt in Lacai's mind that, as Vesper pilots your body through the mansion ever so sensually, your soul is inwardly drowning in a fog of perpetual euphoria. You have access to everything the King does, Lacai knows the demonlord would never deprive you of such a novel voyeuristic experience.

You -well, you and Vesper, probably mostly Vesper- have been picking random imps up and draining them wherever, whenever. One passes by, suddenly they're bent beneath you, ridden to exhaustion. Another crawls towards you and is rewarded with equally generous attention. Many of them get dragged to you by their tails and horns.

Even the guards outside! That stupid bimbo and her equally knuckleheaded coworker that only ever bully people around- The two of them got to spitroast you!

Never him though.

Lacai is just about foaming with jealousy over the fact that he's being willfully ignored.

The imp smooths his hair and bites his own arm to stifle his frustration in a blatantly animalistic display, before pushing his way through the ornamented doors to Lord Vesper's meeting room. Which are also one of his bedchambers. Then again, what part of this mansion isn't?

" My Queen, the confectionery and drinks you requested. " He mechanically offers, unable to help the slight crease of his eyebrows when he stops a slight distance from your figure on the chaise longue.

You lay on your side, looking up deceitfully lovingly at the massive monster holding one of your legs to his chest as it slams into you ravenously. Some sort of gargoyle hybrid, if Lacai had to guess, heavily pierced and dark in pigmentation.

He looks entirely infatuated with you, unblinking pinpricks blazing holes into your face while he pants and huffs, desperate to empty himself inside you. The racket of skin on skin and heavy balls clapping against the rim of your wet holes is equal parts delectable to the imp as it is torturous. He wishes he were that monster, getting his cock squeezed by your warm, tight walls and losing his mind to the all-consuming need to give himself to you.

In all likelihood, the currently lovesick guy breeding you like cocksleeve is a monster that has sought Vesper's aid. The sentient side of gargoyle-kin tend to be lonely folk, you might be the first human he's ever gotten to stick his dick into. Must be quite the experience.

Lacai guesses it'll take about ten or so minutes before this poor stud erupts into a final load and collapses from overheated dehydration.

" Thank you so much, dear. " You coo. Lacai feels the strands of hair he tried so hard to keep together stick out again. " My hands are a little tied at the moment, could you please be a darling and let me taste the chocolate blossoms? "

Sure, 'tied'. Your hands are very much 'tied' to the heavy weights dangling off the gargoyle's stone tits.

" Of course, my Lady. "

Lacai prides himself in keeping his composure, in spite of all odds being against him. Vesper and you are winning this stupid little game, and every second that passes he comes closer to begging, but his prideful heritage demands that the imp put up some kind of resistance to the wicked charms of his rulers.

He wheels the cart closer, somewhat disgruntled by the fan of the monster's wings, which blows hot air towards the servant's face. One chocolate blossom is poised right in front of your mouth, you accept it with plush lips and a deliberate little bite to his gloved finger.

Instead of eating it, however, you tug your current paramour down until he takes the hint and accepts your treat, swallowing it without even chewing, if Lacai had to guess. In the state he's in, nothing matters except drilling into you. It's proof enough that he hasn't reacted to Lacai's presence at all so far.

You bloat with the volume of the gargoyle hybrid's latest load, the last of it seeping between you in a gradually growing pool. It glazes on your thighs, the same way Lacai's eyes glaze with disappointment.

Lacai suffers through offering you at least two more blossoms, beads of sweat already forming on his forehead, teeth grinding behind carefully neutral lips, until the male atop you finally shudders.

It was a violent motion, hard leg muscles spasming, his upper body curving forward in an almost agonized fashion as he belts out a sound that Lacai can almost call a bray. Your toes curl, he gets to see you writhing from the high, Vesper generously letting you experience his own power, a positive feedback loop he's very envious of right now.

Humorously, you have to nudge the monster off you, since he's almost non-responsive, unwilling to move much at all after an orgasmic high the likes of which he's never had before, and probably won't ever get again. The male simply flops onto the chaise-lounge like a deflated sack of potatoes, while you get up with all the elegance and sensuality you've always seemed to sport.

Another sweet treat goes into your mouth, the imp gets to see drops of your previous activity stain the floor when you bend over a decorative table, ass to him. Never has a view made his mouth feel so dry.

" Lacai... "

He wishes he could ram his head through a wall, but the only part of him that moves is a barely twitching eyelid.

" Help me clean up before the next visit, will you? "

The imp drops to his knees.

" You're sooo good to me... "

You might just kill him today.

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - nonconsensual drug use, kidnapping/imprisonment, nonconsensual touching, and obsessive behavior.

One of them put something in your tea.

You think it was Alhaitham – smug, scheming Alhaitham, who never greeted you with anything more than a dead-eyed stare and never kept you for anything less than an hour when he called you aside for a one-sided conversation in his rarely used office nestled in among the highest alcoves of the Akademiya. You didn’t trust him, didn’t like how willing he was to abandon his duties in favor of chasing whatever his fickle curiosity latched onto, didn’t feel comfortable with the way his eyes pried into you when you were alone together. He’d been the one to invite you over to the apartments he and Kaveh shared, too, to ignore your requests to see the artifacts he claimed to have found during his latest expedition in favor of forcing one of Kaveh's well-love clay mugs into your hands. It’d probably been him. It’d make sense, to both your rational mind and the sentimental creature inside of you, if it’d been him.

Which is exactly why the scholar constantly gnawing at the back of your mind – ever-doubtful, ever-distrusting – screamed that it had to have been Kaveh. You liked him more than you liked Alhaitham, trusted him more than you could ever trust Alhaitham, and he’d had just as much time with the drink that’d just barely touched your lips, muttering about Alhaitham’s nonexistent sense of taste as he shoveled sugar into your mug by the spoonful. You admired him, too; unlike Alhaitham, Kaveh threw himself wholly and entirely into his work, his research, and he’d never had to corner you to have your full attention. That was why it was so easy to tell yourself that you should’ve been more careful, that you should’ve been more wary of the threat that presented itself as aid than the one who wore its true colors proudly. It was definitely Kaveh. Or, it was definitely Alhaitham.

Or, it didn’t matter which one of them put something in your tea, because one of them had put something in your tea and neither of them seemed to care.

You could already feel some of the more pronounced effects setting in; your hands limp and numb where they’d fallen into your lap, your tongue dry and swollen in your mouth, your vision already beginning to blur around the edges. You were still sitting at their claustrophobic kitchen table, Kaveh less than arm’s length to your right and Alhaitham far enough to stare you down from a careful distance, but you had to strain to listen to their conversation. “You’re never home,” Kaveh droned, in the tone he only seemed to use when talking to Alhaitham. “The poor thing would die of neglect in the first week. You couldn’t take care of a houseplant, much less a person.”

“Houseplants require a great deal of research and intuition. People tend to be much louder about their wants and needs.” Likewise, Alhaitham was using the tone he saved exclusively for Kaveh; one of self-gratifying neutrality, as if the pedestal he’d put himself on was too tall to let him notice something as insignificant as Kaveh’s frustration. “And it's not as if you can be trusted with this kind of responsibility. Not for any longer than a few hours, at least.”

There was a beat of silence. When Alhaitham failed to go on, Kaveh let out an exasperated groan. “What’s that supposed to mean, scribe?”

“Oh, only that an architect as passionate as you are tends to be easily distracted. I’d give it...” He quirked his head to the side, gaze shifting to something purposefully distant. “…three days before a new proposal catches your eye, and I know how difficult it can be for you to balance more than one project at a time.”

“See, that’s your problem. You think of them as an object that must be dusted off once or twice a week, whereas I see them as my beautiful and beloved lover who I want nothing more than to spend time with.” Something about Alhaitham’s frown quirked, and Kaveh hastily corrected himself. “Alright, my soon-to-be lover. It doesn’t matter – even if I don’t take the first turn, they’ll be in my loving arms eventually, and once they are, they'll never want to go back to yours. I’d tell you to save yourself a heartbreak, but I’m still not sure if you have a heart.”

Now it was Alhaitham’s turn to put on a façade of mock-exasperation, letting out a breathy exhale as he leaned onto the tabletop. “Timing can be very important. Whatever we do, whoever gets to do it – they’re going to set a precedent. Since I don’t want to have another brat under my roof, we have to be careful.”

To his credit, Kaveh didn’t try to deny it, merely leveling the accusation back at Alhaitham. “You? Careful? Which one of us thought he could take the General Mahamatra in a fight?”

And, to Alhaitham’s credit, he didn’t waste his breath trying to fight for his innocence, either. Rather, he turned to you, sharp eyes immediately piercing the very depths of your soul. “(Y/n),” and then, in a voice slightly softer than the one he’d addressed Kaveh with, “What do you think? You’re rational enough to know who’d take better care of you.”

You managed to open your mouth, to pry your lips apart and start to spit out something halfway coherent.

Then, without making a sound, you collapsed onto their table, knocking your mug to its side and spilling Alhaitham's awful tea onto their tiled floor.

Kaveh reacted first, gasping as he gathered you in his arms. You were dead weight, barely able to hold your own head up, but he made an effort to keep you upright, to pretend you were in any way acting of your own will as he pulled you against his chest and raked his calloused fingers against your damp hair. “Aw, look at the poor thing! I told you to use a smaller dose.”

The gratification was minimal, dampened by panic and exhaustion too ebbing to be natural. Something seemed to light behind Alhaitham’s dull eyes, and in turn, something jagged turned in your stomach. “I still need an answer,” he reiterated. You did your best to glare, to thrash Kaveh’s hold, but you could barely twitch, barely keep yourself conscious, and Alhaitham went on undeterred. “We’ll have to ask again once your head’s started to clear. The effect should only last for a few days – a week, at most, to give you time to adjust.”

Kaveh’s attention drifted downward, his lips brushing against the side of your throat. You felt his hair ghost over your shoulder as his head dipped lower, as his heart beat just a little faster against your back. Your eyes found Alhaitham, and for the first time since you’d first met him, his scowl broke to reveal a small, sharp smile.

“Until then, there should be enough of you to share.”

[0bticeo]

j. sims, e. bouchard| love is an open wound still raw.

part one out of four. (part 2.) (part 3.) (part 4.)

summary.

“one of your wounds has reopened.”

slowly, you glance down to your hand. there’s a small puncture wound on your palm, surrounded by the imprints left by your nails. it bleeds, red seeping out of the flesh in neat droplets of crimson. your fist tightens.

drip, drip. 

“it’ll heal.”

“it might get infected.”

“oh, and what are you going to be able to do about it?”

“i have a first aid kit.”

wc. 2.6

tw. worms, jon patching up reader's wounds, heavily implied that elias is having the time of his life watching them go at it, fluff (in this economy?? written by obticeo??? shocking), handjob, blowjob, overstimulation (so um. non sex averse jon.)

work at the magnus institute, they said. it’s a good idea, they said. you thrive on knowing things and burying yourself in niche research topics for days on end for hyper specific information. why not give the esoteric and supernatural a try?

you blame the decent paycheck for signing the contract so quickly. 

(there is, really, nothing to blame but your own, insatiable curiosity. an institute studying supernatural happenings. how is the damn thing even funded?) 

oh, it wasn’t that bad. not at first, despite your instinct screaming not to trust the devilishly handsome head of the institute and to run away. the archives were a mess, courtesy of gertrude robinson’s piss poor organization. you did not want to know what layed in the artifact storage department. you dutifully ignored the sharp, pinprick pain at your nape, the weight settling over your skin like an accusatory finger. you’re being watched.

again, it wasn’t that bad.

then there were worms.

your fingers clench, dig in your palms. even now, weeks after the flesh-hive broke into the institute, you can feel it. smell it. 

the scent of decay, flesh rotting away, peeling bit by bit from brittle bone, and maggots. so many of them, worms everywhere, stark white fleshy mass wriggling, crawling towards you, biting you until they burrow in your flesh.

you should’ve seen it coming, really, what’s with martin being forced to reside in the archives until further notice and the occasional worm managing to crawl its way in.

you hadn’t. 

(drip, drip. 

blink, and you’re bleeding in a safe room, jon’s palm pressing down your thigh as he wrenches away the worms digging in your flesh with a corkscrew. your leg aches. your wrist is a bloody mess. all you can do is try to bite back a scream and fail, miserably. 

blink, and you’re safe, three months later. on bad days you can still feel them crawl, burrowing deeper and deeper in you, hungry, so terribly hungry.)

today, the archives are silent. the others are still quarantined, so the only noise filling the room is that of your breathing and the click, click, click of your pen. 

no martin to bring you a cup of coffee with a sheepish smile, debating over the merits of tea over coffee. no tim to prank you with the false statement of joe spooky and his encounters with the horrorsTM, holding back his laughter as you squint at him suspiciously. no sasha to gossip with, to laugh, delighted, voice lowering in a conspiratorial whisper as she tells you the latest tidbit of info she found out about jon - your prickly boss! in a band!

normally, the usual hustle and bustle of the archives (and its rowdy archival assistants), is almost enough for you to forget the permanent, oppressing feeling that you’re being watched. it’s always there, at the back of your mind, pinprick pressure at the edge of your neck. eyes, thousands and thousands of them watching you, knowing you, how you wake up screaming, nails digging bloody trails on your skin to get them out- 

breathe. 

you’re in the archives. you’re at your desk, tightly clenched hands resting on a manila folder. before you is the portrait of the founder of the institute. jonah magnus, green-grey eyes boring down upon you. you look back, tired eyes dead and unblinking. 

the watch on your wrist tells you it’s five and a half in the afternoon, give or take. the sun is declining. you’ve kept the lights off. penumbra settles over you like a blanket and you lean back in your chair. you’ve been there for three hours and haven’t moved an inch. 

you should probably go home. you should probably quit, actually. go up to elias’ office and politely tell him that you did not sign up to have your life threatened by worms, supernatural or not. 

you don’t.

the manila file in front of you contains a statement regarding robert montourke, given by one of his jailers. you should probably find a tape recorder. maybe there’s a spare in jon’s office. 

so you get up and set about getting that tape recorder. a beat. you think you catch the contours of one of these wretched worms, fat larvae half crushed by a bow full of statements. blink and it’s gone.

you all but slam open the door, only to reveal the head archivist in the flesh. he startles, almost dropping the pile of statements he’s been neatly stocking away in a cardboard box.

“what- how long have you been there?”

you stare at him, blankly, hand still resting against the doorknob.

“i- three hours- sorry, i should’ve knocked-”

“yes, yes you should have!”

your shoulders tense. he’s glaring at you with barely concealed suspicion, and all you can do is fight back the creeping panic that settles over you, because you can remember being in this very office, half leaning over jon’s desk, laughing with him, before the wall broke and the worms-

“what are you doing here?”

you take in a sharp inhale.

“i was looking for a tape recorder.”

jon lets out an aggravated sigh.

“here, in the archives.”

“i-”

“you should still be at the hospital, resting-”

“i’ve been discharged three days ago.”

he scoffs, running a hand through his tousled hair. it’s grown, you realize. a few inches, now long enough to brush the sharp edge of his jaw. there and there, creeping up his neck, his fingers, his wrists, you can see the scarring tissue of his flesh, puncture wounds like many cigarette burns. worms.

you swallow.

you don’t realize he’s in front of you until he calls your name, tone sharper than his wit.

“i’m going to talk to elias. this is ridiculous, having you work while you��re barely healed-”

“like you’re one to talk.”

he glares down at you, a scowl twisting his features. you meet his stare, lone sailor in the eye of the storm. his gaze trails over your features, takes in the scars crawling up your forearms, the skin left bare by the rolled up sleeves of your shirt. his frown deepens.

“one of your wounds has reopened.”

slowly, you glance down to your hand. there’s a small puncture wound on your palm, surrounded by the imprints left by your nails. it bleeds, red seeping out of the flesh in neat droplets of crimson. your fist tightens.

drip, drip. 

“it’ll heal.”

“it might get infected.”

“oh, and what are you going to be able to do about it?”

“i have a first aid kit.”

with that, he moves behind his desk and opens a drawer with an aggravated sigh. he rummages through it, discarding stationary and a paperback of poe’s selected tales. he’s got taste, you muse, drawing closer, footsteps silent on the carpet. at last, jon pulls out a red box and motions for you to sit down on the edge of his desk. 

“give me your hand,” he mutters.

you extend your hand, slowly, holding it up by his desk lamp. his fingers come to cradle your wrist, brushing your pulse, pressing against the faint outline of the bone. your breath hitches. slowly, he gets to work, critical gaze assessing the wound. it doesn’t need stitches. small blessings. 

he pulls out a sterile compress and pours disinfectant on it.

“it’ll sting.”

he’s gentle, jon, the compress held firmly against your palm, but not harshly, no. you let out a low hiss, pain like an inferno setting your nerve ablaze. you think you see his frown deepening at the pained sound that manages to fly past your gritted teeth.

the compress comes out stained. finally, he discards it and grabs the gauze, carefully wrapping it around your palm. 

in the dim lighting of the room, you make out the sunken cheeks, the five o’clock shadow adorning his jaw, the exhaustion creeping in the deep green of his eyes. they meet yours. your heart skips a beat, then another. silence stretches, stretches.

he’s been watching you, you realize. 

“you didn’t have to do this, you know.” 

he scoffs, throwing away the stained compress.

“somebody has to take care of you, if you don’t do it yourself.”

you let out a dry chuckle.

“hypocrite.”

“i am not-”

“no? when was the last time you ate? have you slept in the past three days?”

with each question, you get closer and closer to him, until you’re a breath away from him, tired gaze boring into his. there’s defensiveness in his eyes, protests piling up in scathing retort on the tip of his tongue.

“why don’t you take care of yourself, jon?”

you see his shoulders tense under the white cotton of his shirt, fingers flexing, gaze flickering, looking anywhere but you. something like resignation settles over his features, clouding the blazing green of his gaze.

“it’s rotten work.”

“not to me.”

your hand finds the sharp edge of his jaw, palm like a balm against his cheeks. you feel him relax, leaning into your touch, lips brushing against your pulse. you drink in the sight of him, worn to the bone, scars etched in his skin, reaching for his soul. he’s soft, in the sunset, all ragged edges tiredly melting away as you take one step closer to him.

“please, jon. let me take care of you.”

a beat. he chuckles, the sound low and rich, vibration reverberating in your bones.

“i can’t stop you, can i?”

“no, you can’t.” 

you fall into his orbit, in the magnetic pull of him. your lips brush against his, brushing hesitantly against the chapped skin. you hear a startled little sound of a gasp, surprise dying on his tongue, melting as you press yourself against him, bandaged hand splayed over his chest. do not still, beating heart. it stutters under your touch, hummingbird yearning for escape. you’d cradle it in your hands and swallow it whole, his heart, keeping it safe.

as it is, you cannot turn bones and spread the open wings of his ribcage apart, so you settle for Knowing him, mapping out each prickly edge of him. 

your lips grow firmer in their relentless pursuit of his own. he nips at you, wounded animal desperate for respite, so you cradle him against you, kissing him over and over, until his mouth parts for you, until, finally, you share the same breath.

you melt a little against him, fingers digging in his shoulders for support. the world narrows down, optical adjustment until it’s only you and the warmth of his fingers on your waist, comet tail blazing a path of desire over your clothed skin. your knees go weak.

you pull apart for air, and it feels like losing a part of yourself.

jon looks at you, green eyes dark and heavy, lips kiss-swollen and red and so very inviting. 

more…

you don’t know which of you broke the silence. doesn’t matter when jon grabs the front of your shirt and yanks you forward until you stumble in his chest. doesn’t matter when he sits back on his chair, when he lets you straddle him, slender fingers coaxing you out of your clothes. 

he kisses you against, and he’s hungry for it, like he’s longed for this, longed for you, you with your mouth like an offering, so warm and safe against him. his hand finds the back of your nape, thumb pressing down, and you dissolve in a sweet puddle of need. he tastes like nicotine and tea, bittersweet in all the right ways, and it feels like a revelation.

your hands set about knowing him, wandering the paths made up by the dips of his ribs, the valley of his chest, going further and further south until your hands press against the buckle of his belt.

“yes- ah!”

you’re gentle about it, really. palming him, tracing the outline of him through his slacks, relishing at the deep, shuddering exhale of your name. his hand wraps around yours, dwarfing yours. your mind goes deliciously blank, his long, slender fingers pulling down his slacks just enough to free his length.

need burns in your mind. 

jon chuckles, low and teasing, something like mirthful amusement in his eyes.

“it’s not going to bite, you know.”

“i might.”

with that, you wrap your hand around his cock. jon hisses, hips bucking in your grip. pink dusts his cheeks like dawn rising as he watches you, like he’s committing you to memory.

(he is. he wishes you could see yourself, stark silhouette burned in his retina, clothes unkempt, shirt half-opened to reveal the tantalizing edge of your bra, lips kiss-swollen, eyes wide and dark, hands slowly pumping his length.)

he groans, head lolling back, his hand tightening on your hip.

“you’re a tease.”

“and you’re pretty.”

he gasps at that. you laugh, and press your lips to his, speeding up your rhythm until you feel him tense and writhe, hips jerking against you. beds of wetness drip down on your fingers. you bring them to your mouth and hum, tongue darting out, licking them clean. jon’s breath catches at the sight.

you want to taste him, you realize. know each and every part of him, so you slide off his lap and get on your knees, skirt riding up your thighs. your hands run up his shin, fingers dancing over his knee as they tread the path to his core.

your tongue flicks out against the flushed head, lapping at his pre. he shudders at that, a low groan leaving his lips. you feel him twitch in your grip and speed up, pressing fleeting, fluttering kisses against the soft, heated skin. when your mouth closes on his length and you taste and know him, static buzzes in your mind. 

a hand, broad and big and warm, settles on your head and pushes you closer, fingers threading through your hair. you whine. he’s big and heavy, filling up your mouth until all you know is him. your nails rake his thighs and he moans at that. you can’t help but look up through your lashes.

he’s the picture of sin, jonathan sims. his pristine shirt is crumpled, haphazardly unbuttoned to reveal the knife-edge of his collarbone. his fingers tighten on the armrest, deliciously firm in their desperate attempt to find purchase as you bring him closer and closer to his release. and gods, the slow, sublime arch of his neck, the way his head lolls back in rapture as he comes again with a startled gasp-

you hum, delighted, swallowing every last drop.

ah, but you’re not done yet. you’re not done learning about all the sweet moans you can coax out of him, about what makes him tick and come in blissful rapture. so, you make him come. 

again, and again, and again, worshiping every precious inch of him as you go, sucking  bruises in the tender skin of his neck. mine. his moans fill the room, startled little gasp and desperate pleas for more, for you to stop because it’s too much, to please, please-

when you pull back, your breath catches in your throat. he’s a masterpiece of debauchery, glasses askew, tears of overstimulation trailing down his flushed cheeks, lips parted in harsh, ragged pants. 

you nuzzle against him with a coo, one hand slipping under his shirt, settling over his chest, over the thundering beat of his heart.

his hand settles on your thigh, his forehead pressing against yours as he desperately tries to catch his breath.

“w-wait… you didn’t get to… let me…”

“shh…” you peck his lips, the kiss sweet and chaste. “this is about you. for once in your life, let yourself be cared for.”

he nods, reluctantly, fingers tightening over your thigh in a promise.

“fine. but i’m treating you to dinner. that is non-negotiable.”

you laugh a little, smiling fondly up at him.

“boss’ orders.”

[anxiteyandsleep]

I'm so sorry if I made you flustered about the smut question- didn't mean to! 🫢🫣😆

Okay so I'm gonna try and request this: 🙏

Could I please request Thranduil x Male reader who's this tall and buffed tiefling (big horns, long strong tail) who looks scary asf but is actually a total sweetheart? He only looks intimidating bc he's always wearing his armor, covers his face with a cloth/a mask, has dark makeup around his eyes and basically looks like a fricking demon?

He wears a cloth/a mask around his mouth bc he has a big open scar on his cheek (naaah nothing too graphic he just can do this trick with food where when you're facing his healthy side he sticks a carrot into the opening (scar) on the other side and chews without even opening his lips- totally normal- he did it in front of Legolas once and that poor child didn't sleep for a week). He's not ashamed of it, he just doesn't like the stares.

Even tho I'm as old as the first LOTR movie I only just now became a fan and I saw that Thranduil has an injury on his face as well (but hidden) so that got me thinking...

Maybe reader and Thranduil are a couple (reader was treated badly for being a barbarian tiefling -> not by Thranduil <- but proved himself when he saved him) and he then made reader his personal guard, became friends and then lovers.

Thranduil is curious about reader hiding his face but never pushes him to uncover himself (Like why are you hidding yourself from me hmm? Why don't you kiss me? Your other facial features are gorgeous asf, for a tiefling barbarian who rips goblins in half with his bare hands you could even compete with some elves I know-).

One day Thranduil has some issues with his own injury which reader sees and comes to his aid, Thranduil is embarrassed and nearly breaks down, tears fill his eyes bc his love saw his hideous face and is afraid he will leave him (god I'm so bad at romance bro) but reader just chuckles, takes the cloth/mask from his face and shows Thranduil his own injury.

Now they both have scars! They know each other struggles! And they love each other like never before! Happy ending- No but really, angst with fluffy comfort for our two boys and mainly for the elf himself, he needs the love.

Maybe even emotional way back to their shared bedroom by sunset all lovely dovely bc why dafuq not- just Thranduil giggling kicking his feet and twirling his hair as he's princess carried-

Jesus...I got way too into this. 🤣🤣🤣🤣

Sorry for it being so long, I honestly don't know how to write short requests...also sorry for any mistakes, english is my second language.

Add something, remove something, it's up to you. You don't even have to write it if you hate it or you're not comfy with it. 😘😘

This is adorable ahhh and dw you didn't make me embarrassed or anything! I may have missed some details, this was written over the course of multiple days with very little sleep😭

I included my head canon that Thranduil is blind in his one eye from the dragon fire, as well as that when low on energy he can't keep the disguise up.

Slight TW for blood, scars and such???

It has been almost a year since you and Thranduil had started dating, you were his personal guard and beloved boyfriend, he adored you so much. He never knew why you hid your face but he didn't pry, especially considering he hides his face in a way too.

Thranduil had always been impressed by you, a strong tiefling with a kind soul, much like a gentle giant. Sure you were rather... Gruesome in battle, using your bare hands to fight and always returning covered in blood and gore. It was truly terrifying but Thranduil loved it, especially after you had saved him from a spider attack.

Today, however, Thranduil was hiding away from his beloved barbarian, tucked away in his room with nothing but a small candle dimly lighting the room. He had overworked himself again, his head was aching and he had no energy left to maintain his disguise, the burnt skin and muscle visible, a sight he despised.

When you heard that Thranduil was taking the day off and locked himself in his room, you grew worried. He's never done that before, usually on his days off he spends them with you, taking a walk through the garden or getting some much needed sleep. So of course you immediately went to check on him, making your way to your shared bedroom.

"Thranduil? Are you alright? I heard the guards say you weren't feeling well and I-" you fell silent as you entered the bedroom, squinting as you adjusted to the dim light but you knew exactly what you saw. You never knew Thranduil had such a scar, it covered the left half of his face and his eye was completely white.

Thranduil had to turn his head completely to actually see you, quickly attempting to cover up the scar but alas, he couldn't manage to use his magic in such a state. He never wanted you to see this side or him, he wanted to keep this horrid scar hidden from you.

"(Name)... What... What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be on patrol?" He managed to get out, clearing his throat and doing his best to speak in his usual tone but his voice still sounded shaky. Perhaps if he didn't bring attention to the scar, you would just ignore it as well

"I just got back, my love..." You replied, slowly walking closer to Thranduil, head tilted slightly in curiosity as you examined the scar. When you reached the edge of the bed, you knelt down before him, resting your chin on his legs. "is that from the dragon you faced?"

Thranduil sighed softly, closing his eyes as he couldn't bare to look at you, afraid he'd see disgust in your eyes. "yes...I managed to survive but..." He vaguely gestured to the scar, shaking his head slightly. Thranduil finally opened his eyes again when he felt your strong hands holding his, the touch was so gentle and caring, he just had to see you.

The way you were looking at him surprised him, your eyes were full so of love and admiration, it made his heart swell.

"We kinda match" you hum in a soft whisper, reaching up to remove the mask you always wore and revealing your own scar. You weren't ashamed of it, you mostly hid it for everyone's comfort as the sight of your open cheek often made people uneasy and you hated the looks they'd give you.

it was now Thranduil's turn to stare in awe, one of his delicate hands reaching up to gently trace around the scar, his fingers soft and gentle as always. "hm I suppose we do, my love" he replied softly his hand trailing up to gently trace over your horns, following the pattern and ridges of them.

"forgive me for keeping this from you... I... I do not like people seeing me in such a state but I should've told you" Thranduil apologized, moving his hands back to gently cup your face, being careful to not disturb the scar

You couldn't help but chuckle a little, leaning into his touch while your tail wagged slightly. "there's no need to apologize, I kept a secret from you too"

Thranduil felt as if a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders, the stress slowly melting away as he held you in his hands. "Well now that we both have told the truth, how about we rest?" He whispered sweetly, leaning down to capture your lips in a tender kiss, one you eagerly returned.

Without breaking the kiss, you got off your knees, cradling the back of Thranduils neck with one of your hands. You kicked off your boots, accidentally sending one flying across the room but you didn't care. "a nap sounds good, yeah" you muttered against his lips as you carefully push him back onto the bed, climbing on top of him to continue the kiss.

Thranduil couldn't help but chuckle, pulling back from your lips just enough to talk. "My love, this is not napping ~" he didn't really mind as you continued to pamper him with kisses, his delicate hands reaching up to gently tangle themselves in your hair.

"mm we'll nap after, then"

[syluscrows]

Sylus taking care of his chronically ill pookie // hurt / comfort / fluff and slight NSFW

WRITTEN IN THE PERSPECTIVE OF AN INDIVIDUAL WITH VEDS / SBS AND ASSOCIATED DISORDERS USING THE SYMPTOMS EXPERIENCED.

Tags: Sylus x reader, gender neutral reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, chronic illness, Sylus being a sweetie pie, and sylus being a jerk...

Tw: organ rupture mentioned, joint dislocation, weak skin / bruising, discussion of shortened lifespan.

- His initial reaction to you telling him is his usual nonchalant self. He doesn't really seem to care, but only in the nicest way possible. Externally he's the exact same at first - internally his dusty brain cogs are spinning like mad, thinking 'what the fuck does that mean'

- He will probably buy you a get well soon basket.. for a chronic condition..

- unbeknownst to you, he has no idea what it is and immediately researched it.. and poor gramps didn't know how dramatic Google was when it came to medical conditions so he only thought of the worst outcomes.

S: "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOUR ORGANS COULD RUPTURE?!"

Y/n: "Sylus, there's emphasis on the 'could'.."

- you have to reassure him that it's not THAT bad, but the whole shortened lifespan stuff coming up does scare the crap out of this poor man.

Y/n: "sylus it's not exactly the most accurate thing.. we don't know if it'll be that early." You assure him, but he clearly doesn't find that reassuring at all, as someone who can't die, he never thought he would feel so strongly about someone who COULD die, much sooner than expected. You can tell it's left a pit in his stomach that won't go away regardless of what you say.

- He's more careful when you two are sparring, or play fighting.

- (in the perspective of a reader who is a hunter) He knows you can take care of yourself in fights. Witnessing you effortlessly slamming a joint back into place midfight etc. gives him reassurance at this, but that doesn't mean there won't be a certain crow checking up on you now and again when you're apart.

- The first time y'all get freaky he's mortified by the amount of bruises on you. How are they so dark? And so big? It looks like you've gotten into a fight.. And the bruises he leaves on you after are even worse.

- And your skin is so soft he can't keep his hands off of you. 😌

- Bless this man when your limbs go numb and you have to wait out the pins and needles in order to move, he knows exactly what to do. Usually you would have to wait for the uncomfortable feeling to dull down so you can move your legs to regain blood flow, but with Sylus around you don't have to worry, although it feels awful when he does it, he lifts your leg and bends it until the feeling goes away, ensuring the blood flow returns sooner so you aren't uncomfortable for long.

- Afterwards he's asking you where all of the bruises are from. "What about this one?" "Sylus I told you I don't know, they just appear! It probably happens when I sleep!" Oh boy do you regret saying that, this man protects you from everything, you might as well be wrapped in bubble wrap.

- If you use mobility aids, throw them out, he will buy you better ones, fancier ones, maybe even custom ones to match whatever vibe you like.

- let's just say he gets a bit too rough one day and there goes your hip, straight out of the socket.. he immediately apologises over and over again, and despite his usual emotional constipation you can tell it's given him a scare as he tries to figure out what to do, asking if you need to go to hospital, if he can put it back for you.. and despite the immense pain you're in, it's still adorable to see him like that.

- you stand up too fast and immediately just stand there and lean against something until your brain descrambles. He honestly finds it kinda cute, and has to hold back the urge to be malicious... His evil lil heart would love to one day rush you to walk forward and watch you fall, but his soft side is strongly fighting against it.

- You do have to talk him out of treating you like you're fragile, which is irritating. You find yourself constantly reassuring him.

- despite his stoic, cold exterior, he does piss himself laughing when you don't manage to lean against something in time when you're light headed, falling over sideways. Laughter is the best medicine, after all. Of course he's concerned, but only for a split second..

- the brain fog is his favourite part. "What did I just say?" You say with an adorable confused expression on your face, or when you place something down and it's as if it's suddenly phased out of existence. He doesn't care if it makes you slightly tardy on your timekeeping, if you're late you're late, you can't help it.

- the brain fog doesn't exactly make it easy to give you tasks.. he ends up sending you a million messages to remind you of what he's asked you to do.

- The man cringes so hard when you're walking along like nothings happening as if your hip isn't clicking loudly with every step. He is clueless to the fact that it doesn't actually hurt every time...

- The first flare-up he felt helpless, being so uneducated and just watching you in pain, hardly able to do a thing. By the time you'd had a few flare-ups around him he gathered a routine. Running baths, getting ointments for your joints, millions of heat pads, practically staying at your side like a lil servant. You insisted it wasn't necessary, since you've functioned through many flare-ups beforehand, but he won't listen.

- There's an emergency box with instructions in case he isn't around so that Luke and Kieran can take care of you too.🥹

[hobiebrownismygod]

My Favorite Underdog

Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader

TW: established relationship?? Hobie's not Spider-man in this, just some dude, cursing, something about domestic, no powers, underdog Hobie just has my heart I love it so much

___________________

You sat down at your desk one lonely night, scrolling through your phone in the dim light emanating from your table lamp. You were tired, but a few more minutes wouldn't hurt, right? You needed to relax, especially after such a stressful day at school.

The rain was pouring outside, making your room seem even toastier with the contrast between freezing cold and a blanket-covered warmth enough to make your head dizzy and your eyes droop.

The patter of raindrops on your window was loud enough to keep you awake though, loud enough that they sort of sounded like knocks.

Oh wait...they were knocks.

You glanced over at the window only for your quaint little moment of domesticity to be completely overturned by the sight of your boyfriend, soaked in blood and rainwater, feverishly tapping at your window in an attempt to be let in.

You practically leapt towards the window, pushing it open and pulling the poor man in while he coughed, ripping his mask off in one fell swoop. "Jesus, took you long enough to notice me-" he said snarkily, leaning against you while you shut the window again.

"What are you doing here? What happened?" You exclaimed, sitting him down on the bed. "Got into another fight." he shrugged nonchalantly, sitting up straight with a slight wince. "Not my best idea, considering that there were three of them."

"Three?" you exclaimed, grabbing your first aid kit (that you always had to keep on hand now thanks to him) from above your dresser and kneeling in front of him. "Are you bloody insane?"

"They wouldn't leave this poor bloke alone! Fucking threatening him like they were part of some gang- stupid wannabes" he scoffed, folding his arms over his chest, only for you to immediately shove them back to his sides so you could pull his shirt over his head.

"They got you good." you said, wincing as you ran your hands over the purple bruises lining his chest. "I don't think there's any internal bleeding, but these are gonna leave some nasty scars."

"Nice. I'll look even cooler shirtless." he said with a grin, leaning down towards you slightly. "What are you doing up at this hour? It's past midnight."

"You're in no position to make remarks about my choices." you replied, rolling your eyes at him as you began to bandage up the little cuts scraping his shoulders and back. He looked like he'd been dragged across the floor, which he probably was. Normally you'd ask, but he seemed like he was in enough pain already. "You can't keep getting into fights like this, 'Bie. You're gonna get yourself hurt."

"Yeah, yeah I know." he said annoyedly, leaning back. "I'm no superhero. I just- I don't know, seeing that poor kid getting bullied like that...I couldn't just stand by and watch!"

"I know, I know." you cooed, cupping his face gently so you could look over the bruises littering his skin. "Shame that you got your pretty face all messed up too."

He scowled teasingly. "I asked them specifically to leave my face alone." he said, smiling at you. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours before immediately pulling back with a hiss. "Damn. Hurts to even touch it." he muttered, raising a finger to gingerly pat the bruise on his face.

"I think I have ice." you said sympathetically, walking back over to the little mini fridge in your room where you kept ice packs, just in case he got into one of his little fights (which happened almost every day now).

He just grinned, his eyes raking over you appreciatively as you bundled up the little lump of ice in a plastic bag before plopping down on the bed next to him and pressing it to his cheek where the bruise was reddest.

"What did I do to deserve you?" he hummed, gazing at you with the most starstruck smile. "I think you have a concussion." you told him in an unamused tone, picking up his hand to make him hold the ice pack himself before checking the back of his head to see if there were any more wounds.

He nodded forward slightly to let you sift your hands through the thick hair on the back of his head, searching for any signs of blood. Nothing. "I think...you're good." you told him, glancing at his neck for good measure before letting him pull his head back.

"Thanks Doc." he said with a smile before taking his chance to lean in and kiss you. "Guess I owe you, huh?"

"Yeah, you've owed me for a long time." you scoffed, letting him push you down against the mattress while he kissed your cheek and jaw. "I don't expect you to start making up for it now."

"I could make up for it." he murmured, lips tracing against your skin as he pulled you up slightly. "Let me kiss you."

"You're gonna hurt yourself-" you protested, arms wrapping around his neck as he shifted his weight onto you again, large hands loosely holding your waist. He just smiled, shaking his head before kissing you once, twice, three times, never wanting to let go.

You could barely move with all his weight pressed down onto you like this, practically suffocating you in his arms. It always amazed you how someone so lanky could be so heavy. "Hobie-" You mumbled out against his lips as he kept pressing them against yours, hands cupping your face as he hovered over you. "Yeah?" he asked dazedly.

"You have to rest." you told him, putting a hand over his mouth when he opened it to protest. "I already know you're gonna get beat up more tomorrow, so just sleep, okay?" He scoffed, leaning back and plopping down onto his back. "Fine." he huffed.

He pulled you into his arms the moment you reappeared at his side and hugged you, laying back onto the pillow completely. "Stay here with me?" he asked, kissing your forehead.

"It's my bed, you twat" you scoffed, propping yourself up slightly to gaze down at him. "But yes. I'll stay with you tonight, baby." you added, voice softening slightly as you leaned down to kiss him, hair falling over your shoulder.

"I love you, you know that right?" he grinned, letting his head fall back as you slowly pulled your lips away from his, brushing your hair behind your ear. "I love you too, 'Bie."

You couldn't help but reach your hand out towards his face, pinching his cheek gently while his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "My little underdog." You cooed, kissing his cheek.

"I am not an underdog!" He protested with a huff, pushing your hand off his cheek and grabbing you by the waist again, leaning in for a real kiss. "So you don't like it when I call you baby?" You teased, cupping his face.

His gaze faltered slightly. "I do." he admitted, a wry smile on his face. "But there's a difference between calling me baby, and calling me an underdog." he said with a slight scoff. "You can call me baby."

"Yeah, cuz you're just a baby." You smiled, tapping his nose. "Oh, shut up." he muttered with a half-smile, pulling you into his arms. "I'm still bigger than you. And stronger."

You laughed, kissing his shoulder as he wrapped you into his arms. "I love you, 'Bie."

"I love you too."

__________________

Haven't written in a while, hopefully this broke my writer's block but who knows. Hopefully y'all enjoyed it!! <3

Taglist Link

Tags: @therealloopylupin2099 @spiderrinn @l0starl @daydreaming-en-pointe @itsparis-07 @vileviale @Bubble787635 @puff-hugs @d0ubl-tr0ubl3 @lauryn2558 @choccymilkdrinker @sunasslut69 @ask-1610-miles @axels-garden @eli21345 @miniaturesuitfox @spotconlon55 @riris-radioactive-panther @trash-panda-xoxo @0strawberrysorbet0 @preciousxsin @d3lux4ry @mikiyamarie @daphne00daiz @cumsluut @star-maker-rain-dancer

[thir10th]

some extra help- Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader

summary: this is a drabble kinda based on episode 3x02 but it's not a whole insert TW: suggestive content but no smut, dress up, fluff (very cute if you ask me), it's not smut so not much to say here, very short talk about medical stuff (head injury, concussion), i think that's all A/N: this one is quite short but very cute. It's not smut, just suggestive, i ended it right there because I wasn't really on the mood for it. As always: any feedback is appreciated. english isn't my first language. like and reblog <3

you had spent the last 2 nights in a row waking up every 3 to 4 hours, several alarms a night. After saving not only that poor little boy and woman's lives, but also saving you boss' and girlfriend's jobs, you returned home to a renewed Emily Prentiss. She was relieved that she could finally rest, not having to chose between her job and her team, which included you. You had insisted on her not resigning but she would give anything for you and the people she loved, for her team.

After the number she pulled in Milwaukee (you had also begged her to be careful, and you would've shoot that man when you saw what he had done to her hadn't JJ been there to stop you) she had a concussion. it was basically your job to make sure she was still breathing.

You secretly loved taking care of Emily, you kind of hated having to wake up every once in a while, obviously, but there was something about taking helping her with regular stuff, making sure she was taking things easy, all that intimacy.

"baby, stop it" she complains "I'm fine, I can carry my own bag" you had taken it upon yourself to carry it to her apartment "i know you can, but i don't want you to, you have to rest" you try to convince her

"I'm fine, the meds help a lot, it barely hurts now" She says trying to make you forget all that worry "since Milwaukee you've treated me like I'm so fragile, but I won't break just like that"

You drop her bag and her purse, and turn around to face her, grabbing her waist, pulling her close to you, she surrounds your neck with her hands "What's wrong with it? So, i want to take care of my girlfriend, no big deal, she can still be a badass, specially at work, as far as they're concerned, there's no worried girlfriend, just a worried friend, who drives you to work so you don't have to do it yourself" she caresses your back with her fingers, listening to every word you say.

Your relationship was still a secret for the rest of the team, you had been dating already for several months, but you were taking it slow, so no one in the team actually knew you were the one spending the nights at Emily's apartment taking care of her until she got better.

"well, i love my worried girlfriend but she should take a break and get me a nurse so she can start relaxing with me" she says, giving you a peck on your lips and separating from your embrace to go to the bathroom

little did Emily know she had just given you an idea

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

next day you enter Emily's apartment, ready for a nigh full of interruptions, but very ready to have some fun as well.

Emily had given you an idea, a very good one, the kind of idea you knew your girlfriend would love. So you move around the apartment, being as quiet as you can, Emily is resting on the couch reading a book, and you're in the room trying to get yourself ready.

"I can hear you moving, what are you up to back there?" she asks putting her book down, giving up on concentrating enough to read.

"you know, I think it's time to change that bandage on your forehead don't you think? It's been a couple of days" you say from the back of the room

"oh, yeah, i forgot, if you get me the first aid kit i can do it myself"

"no, i can do it for you, because, if i remember correctly, you said yesterday you could use a nurse, right?" with that you enter the living room, all dressed in the lamest, cheapest nurse costume you could have found, the only thing that mattered anyways was that it was short, white, and revealing.

Emily sits up, sitting upright on the couch, her mouth falls open, speechless, her eyes scanning you, running up and down your figure as if trying to memorize every bit of the image.

"So? what do you think?" you tell her, pinning around to give her a look from every angle

her lips start curving into a smile, her mouth still open, she chuckles in surprise, runs her hand through her hair looking for the words

"I can't believe this, you look awesome baby, come here" she says still in awe, opens her arms in a welcoming position. You walk to her, place your legs on her sides so you're straddling her, she caresses the skin of your legs, holding you in place, and lay down to give her a kiss, holding her head with both your hands, she dugs her fingers in the flesh of your thighs, you kiss her lips softly, giving in the contact, melting into the kiss.

"you're hottest nurse I've ever kissed in my life" you chuckle against her lips, she gives you a peck before you get away

"So, are you gonna let the nurse change that bandage of yours or what?" you ask, and she nods, still smiling, holding on to you but finally letting go to allow you to go take the kit.

You come back from the bathroom with a wet cloth in one hand and the red box in the other one, you gesture her to sit straight, and lay her head back, regaining your last position straddling her waist, and her hands fly back to hold your thighs.

You start by slowly taking the old bandage off to avoid hurting her, you take the wet cloth and start cleaning the wound with it, gently tapping around it. She looks at your focused frown, smiling over how seriously you're taking your job. She runs her fingers through the soft skin of your thighs, every time her hands move she reaches higher until she is no longer touching your legs, but your ass, squeezing it gently, making you jump

"Hey! I'm trying to work here, stop distracting me!" You scold her, but she doesn't retreat, her hands keep wondering around, you try to make it as fast as you can.

Applying the bandage on her forehead delicately, you give her a peck on the lips "you're all set" you announce

"thank you nurse, i was wondering, maybe there's something else you could help me with?" she says to your surprise "sure, what would that be?"

"well you see, my very concerned and beautiful girlfriend used to be the one to take care of me, but ever since you came, I haven't seen her around, so maybe you could take care of me tonight, maybe for a bit longer" she says with the sexiest voice, batting her eyelashes to add up to the act, you just follow her play.

"well this one girlfriend of yours sounds like a very nice lady, but i guess i could help you out" you kiss her again, lustfully, running your hands through her hair, down to her sides, until you reach the hemline of her shirt, and you tug on it "how about if we start by removing this?"

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

[hana-no-seiiki]

Hello! I hope you are doing well, I have an idea, feel free to ignore but I hope you like it.

Yandere Male Deliquent x GN Ex Bully

Like he tried to make them explode and being their “true self”, because in the past, when they were younger, they defend him and he became a delinquent just to see them again.

Sorry if my English is bad.

Bye!

YAN! DELINQUENT OC x GN! EX BULLY! READER

Also your English great anon! Dw about it.

AAAAAAA I’ve meaning to do more Yan! Delinquent recently anon!! You read my mind. For those new to my account. I already have a Yan! Delinquent OC named Mori Ban (see tag: hns.moriban) who was the first to really blow up from my yan! ocs. I always loved this trope with yan stories hhh

tw/cw: DDNE, mention extreme bullying, assault, and harassment. (brought out my trauma for this one). i imagine reader to be amab/masc for this one but there are no explicits allusions to that.

Uttering the name [L/N] [Y/N] was enough to strike fear in the hearts of men. Literally and figuratively speaking, your voice was enough to make even the highest of authorities piss their pants. Not only were you capable of destroying a person’s physical body with your very own hands, you were able to dismantle everything from their relationships and reputation to their financial situations in life.

People predicted you to grow up and become an even more menacing, ruthless person. You had the potential, and with the way you were it was simply the natural trajectory.

But like you always did, you broke everyone’s expectations.

You were like the delinquent version Serena Van Der Woodsen. Mindlessly strutting in as if you hadn’t put several companies to bankruptcy because the owner’s kid looked at you the wrong way. Nonchalantly eating your lunch in the same vicinity of your old victims as if you hadn’t shoved their face into the toilet as a way to pass time. Cheerfully waving at the student council president as if you hadn’t constantly blackmailed and assaulted them for several years just so they’d do your homework and projects. No one was safe from you. You had no code. As long as you felt like it, any life could be destroyed.

Standing opposite to your current path was Mori.

He used to be the punching bag of your lesser goons. Known for being weak and poor, only good for his academic excellence.

He grew up to be almost as fearsome than you. Where-areas you were coldblooded, revelling in the pain you brought upon others. He was a lot more morally guided. Sure, his enemies often suffered worse fates physically, but he wasn’t like you in the way he picked his battles. He only brought hell to those that deserved it. Those that hurt other people first.

And then there was the way he treated you.

You technically belonged to the category he dealt with. You ruined dozens, maybe even hundreds or thousands of lives in a whim. You were the devil in a pretty suit of skin. Despite your lack of hostility nowadays, you never apologised or took accountability, never attempted to atone for your mistakes. The only reason why others haven’t confronted you about it was because of fear. They didn’t want to potentially anger you and set off a bomb.

But Mori? Mori could handle you.

After all, he dedicated his whole life to being your equal; serving you, aiding you.

In fact, he was just so disappointed to see you this way. All disgustingly docile and horridly disciplined. What kind of monster tamed you to be like this? Mori chuckled at the thought. No one but him can match you. You must have started behaving yourself for the sake of appearance. All of this was just a façade. If you had truly changed you would have begged for forgiveness to those you’ve wronged. If you had become a better person then you wouldn’t be discreetly glaring at him when you thought he wasn’t looking.

If someone had truly taught you to be a goody-two-shoes he would have killed them ages ago.

“Hey, [N/N]. Sweetheart. How ya doin?” Mori leaned forward. He grew to be quite a ways taller than you and had to lean over to meet you face to face. Much to your chagrin.

“Fine. It’s so nice of you to ask Ban. If you’ll excuse me.” You adeptly moved to the side. You had dealt with this man-child several times throughout the semester already and knew to just avoid him at all costs lest you lose braincells and precious energy talking to him.

However, you could only take two steps before his hands grappled unto your wrist.

“Woah woah woah there. We’re not done yet.”

You don’t look back, and firmly yet calmly stated, “Yes, we are.”

“It’s a little late but we have yet to give you a homecoming party. That wouldn’t be fair for the great [Y/N].”

You turned back. Eyes wide, not of surprise or anger, but from sheer awe of this man’s audacity.

“I know what you want, and you’re not getting it from me right now.” You scowled at his beautiful pink eyes and effortlessly yanked your arm away from him. You didn’t know it yet back then,

but you had already lit the match.

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2023

[acupofinkedblood]

Subspace x savior complex reader

TW: Toxic relationship, unhealthy behavior, Subspace

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

• Subspace is definitely a difficult guy, that’s no surprise for everyone to acknowledge, especially with you as his lover. Though there are definitely some up and down in your relationship with this bastard — in which I can confidently assure you, it happens more than just a lots due to how eccentric this guy is — you still stay by his side no matter what. You’re technically his right hand person, always ready to hear him out if needed. One definitely has to give you the respect for putting up with him that long. Though something isn’t right just yet. Even when you’re contented in this relationship, why is it that you feel like missing out a part of your wish? Then again, you might have found the answer in that day when Medkit snapped at Subspace

• Having a bottle of toxic chemicals slammed right into Sunspace was the least thing you’d expect Medkit to ever do. But with how the tension had been bottled up between the two of them to the point of instability recently, why weren’t you surprised at this point. It’s just the matter of time before Medkit snapped like this. You pitied Subspace, for the worse or the better. That and combined your love for him. Ever since the day Medkit disappeared, you finally came into the picture alongside with Subspace as his new assistant. Everything was supposed to be fine. But with how that destined incident happened, you have became a restless wreck, constantly worrying about your dearest while he is getting the treatment he needed. Yet beneath that worries that you showed to the poor scientists, mind explaining that odd sense of twisted satisfaction when you realize that you have became his sole support, his beloved hero to the rescue after Medkit ran away?

• The moment Subspace wakes up from his coma after the medical staff has somehow brought him back to life again, you are already there since who knows since when. The first instinct taken over you is to rush over and check his pulse, trying to remember as much as you can while you were watching the nurses earlier to see how is he doing now. It’s not a surprise to acknowledge that Subspace is still rather fatigued due to being unconscious for such a long time. Not to mention the brief horror which flashes through his eyes when he sits up, thinking that he’s still there when the incident happened. It takes you a good while to calm him down without the need to call for the medical staff. Only you are enough now, and you will do everything you can to keep him safe from now on. Subspace has failed to notice how your expression shifted from calm to annoyance when the other staffs start to come to his aid, and that’s one of the biggest mistakes he has ever made

• At first, it starts as a few simple doting. Looking out for his general health, tending to whatever he needs in the moment and helping him to deal with the rot that has started to spread more than he’d like to see. Who could have ever doubted such sweet actions from you? After all, you’re Subspace’s partner — both romantically and at work — the way you’re caring for him is just a natural reaction, he’s your lover after all. Another reason is that no one has enough sanity to deal with Subspace for that long rather than you, so in other words, you have done everyone quite the favor when being in charge of him. That definitely feeds your ego, no? To think that your aid has provided so much to others even when your main priority is still Subspace, it paints the illusion of you being a saint reaching out and carrying the burden of those in need without any reward. And of course, that thought only pushes you even more in this journey of assisting your dearest lover further

• It doesn’t take that long before those caring gestures of yours started to turn into something out of how the original intention should have been. The more you carve this sense of purpose comes from ‘assisting’ Subspace, the more extreme your behavior develops into. From just a brief advice of him taking his medications, you start to feel the need to do that for him instead through force when he’s acting up again. You keep saying that it’s for his own good, but then again, we both know that it’s just you wanting to believe so. Stubbornness is a natural part of Subspace, and when that stubbornness is testing the twisted sense of saving him of yours, then that’s just how the flame has ignited. You try so hard to help him fixing this mess that he has gotten himself in, and you will keep your words even when he is resisting it. So much times, money and efforts you have spent for him, can’t he see that you’re the only one that can help him? Someone out there is capable of single-handedly making everything better, and that person happens to be you. It has to be you. If he can’t, then you will make him see it

• With how unstable Subspace has become both mentally and emotionally, you’ll be quite the idiot to even assume the fact that he will just sit there and let you treat him like some sort of broken damsel in distress. The way you’re trying to control his life’s decisions is beyond comprehension. He knows just how much you enjoy being a helper, but he has no idea it will be something as intense as this. He does appreciate your help somewhat before, as long as it simply stays as how things used to be. And now you have become this ‘controlling freak’ — his words, not mine — that trying to get a hold of his life. He won’t make it easy to happen anytime soon. Who do you think you’re talking with? The great Subspace will never let you force him down into a wheelchair even when the poison is eating him alive! The more you try, the more he will resist before some other factors come into the room to break it out. Usually it’s because of how aching the rotting process is, which makes Subspace begrudgingly take a step back to that damned satisfied smile of yours

• The more you started to meddle in his business, the more easily irritated Subspace became day by day. You follow him like a shadow. He doesn’t even have a moment of peace in his mind, let alone some quiet space where he can relax. With you in the laboratory, he has lost count just how many times you insist that this experiment is too dangerous for him to carry on like usual. Even the superior simply turn a blind eye on his complaint because of how well you have been keeping Subspace alive. Your overprotective tendencies definitely get on his nerves. He can’t even do anything by himself anymore, for science’s sake!

• To say it’s suffocating is an understatement. He always has to walk on thin ice around you, knowing just a little step wrong that makes him trip will easily provoke that savior complex of yours to come and pick him up. Every single time, you just have to be there and do everything without him asking. It’s safe to assume that none of you are having any good days so far with how frequent these fights broke out between you and him, though it usually just stops at verbal abuse since Subspace can’t just poison you to force you out of his life. Not that he hasn’t tried, but he realized that you might have an underlying plan ahead if he dares to do that. With how unhinged you are spiraling into, Subspace prefers to keep breathing normally rather than from an oxygen mask

• How many times have he lashed out at you for being too insufferable? Subspace stops counting because it gives him quite the headache. Those outbursts always left him draining emotionally despite that facade of everything is fine. He’s pretty sure that he might just lose it completely if his mentor’s words didn’t smack some senses back into his mind. Every time Subspace acts rashly, both of you are injured. Some of his poison has a high chance to get into your vein by this point, yet you can always bandage yourself up. It hurts, oh definitely, but it’s nothing compared to what you have done to the other Inphernal. Subspace, on the other hand, needed to be knocked out before he ended up poisoning himself even more. It’ll give you more of a reason to take care of him, but you should just save that trick for later

• To rub even more salt into the wound, you keep staying no matter how much he tries to threaten you to stay out of his life. You keep accompanying him, protecting him without giving a damn of if he wants it or not. The ultimate wish you keep for yourself is simply to make sure that there will be nothing that shall come to harm him ever again — while you’re literally ignoring the fact that maybe it’s you who keep him in this situation — and you’re not afraid to act on it if needed. Subspace has made a lots of attempts to get rid of you, yet none of them ever work out. Honestly, he only has himself to blame since his heart is still beating for you, which is maybe why he lets you live for this long. You’re even far worse than normal overprotective people that steps too close in his personal bubble, because you’re already in that restricted zone in his heart with that complexity that pushes Subspace off his limits

• You love him, yeah, he gets it. But this obsession of yours is probably worse than his at the time being. All the times you work with him to find a cure to his rotten state, you just have to add a little extra things to screw the whole thing up, which makes Subspace’s condition worsened even more. In your eyes, as long as he remains vulnerable, he will still need you. And if he still needs you, then you will be able to keep this purpose of living forever by his side. You didn’t even hide that glimpse of glee when the doctors revealed that there was no cure to his rot, that means you are still needed! Sure, a part of you did feel guilty for ruining him to this point, but then all is well. You know just the right thing to make up for him afterwards, even if it comes with Subspace’s daily resentment when seeing you. It’s not like he’s the only victim here, you have already broken yourself then built it up all over again just to be the perfect caretaker of his. Yet, you forgave him oh so easily just because you feel like he deserves better, that he can still change as long as you’re here with him to fix this mess

• A victim and a savior, how laughable when it’s quite the way to describe the relationship between the two of you now. You wish to fix Subspace, to fix everything he has done wrong, or at least what you deem to he wrong in his life. Subspace on the other hand, is constantly overwhelmed with how you keep trying to fix the unfixable problems that’s not even yours to begin with. The worse part in this dynamic is that none of them can just walk out from each other: You need to play the ‘savior’ in Subspace’s life as it gives you the opportunity to feel seen, to feel good for once after so long

• And things aren’t that bright in Subspace’s side either. He still loves you, maybe just a little more than he loves a plaything, but it still counts. As much as he hates to admit, he might or might not have grown used to that delusional mindset of yours when it comes to aiding — more like controlling at this point — his life for the sake of his own safety. You have made him like this, he has to rely on you no matter how much the irritation is burning within him. You need him, and he needs you too. Whether it’s voluntary or not doesn’t matter. In another words, the two of you need each other desperately

• Yet, Subspace has learned to adapt to it, as he already failed to get rid of your annoying existence just because of this stupid feeling he has for you. You’re lucky that he’s a bit more fond of you than the others, or else you’re just as good as dead. At this point his body can’t be pushed too far if he still wants to live, though he carves to continue his research to serve Blackrock even when those experiments require the criteria that he doesn’t have anymore. So what’s better than to take advantage of your insistence on aiding him in anything possible to do that instead?

• He immediately seizes that opportunity to make you the perfect shield for him to get away from troubles on purpose. You love playing the knight in shining armor? Fine, let him give you a few more reasons to risk your head off for him. Bossing you around to do dirty errands for him while he’s focusing on the necessary plans at hand for the Biografts is something he should have done long before. Not only does he finally has a brief moment to do what he genuinely likes, but also now, Subspace has someone that will risk everything just for his sake - which is, unfortunately, you. That’s his petty way of getting back at you for all those time you have been such a lovely pest in his life. Besides, he can’t help but find the entire thing to be pretty amusing after a good while

• The more you keep putting his well-being above your own needs, the more exhausted you slowly become whether it’s mentally or physically speaking. Yet, you feel like you have finally given a sustainable purpose to follow in long term with who you love so dearly. You neglected your own needs to put him on the top priority, enough for you to be burning out while chasing this fever dream of a purpose you forced yourself into. With how much you have done for him, you know that it will be more than just a good excuse to use it as a favor to make him listen to you the next time you want to ensure his health and safety in your very own way. Though for now, you keep making a fool out of yourself by running such ridiculous errands for Subspace. Most of them aren’t easy either, since you have volunteered to do such direct tasks that he can’t perform due to his condition. Of course, the weariness starts to get even more visible on your face, especially your eyes

• Does he feel bad for it? No, absolutely not. This is Subspace we’re talking about. This sadistic bastard enjoys seeing you like that as if he is admiring a dear jester. You will do just anything for him, and Subspace’d like to see how much of an idiot you actually are. Certainly, they are not enough to kill you, that’s for sure. Though those ideas will be saved for later. For now, all Subspace wants is to simply amuse himself with your presence. If anything, then it makes him feel drawn more to you. That miserable expression seems to be oddly suitable for you, and he seems to like it a lots! Misery loves company after all. He knows that there will soon be your turn of dragging him down the next time you’re in your ideals of saving him again, but just let him enjoy himself somewhat here

• It’s draining for both you and Subspace, as this relationship is anything but healthy. But truth be told, cold water feels warm when your hands are freezing. This co-dependent relationship is ruining the both of you, but also giving each of you a new day to look forward to seeing. You find comfort in being Subspace’s beloved helper, the one that goes through hell and back for him just to make sure that his well-being is guaranteed. Subspace relies on your ability to look out for him because he has to in order to survive a little longer than he originally thought. Even when he does hold a grudge on everything you have done to him, he can’t shake the empty feeling when thinking of a life without you. Indirectly, you are each other’s force to continue going forward into the future. You two find comfort in each other in this forsaken toxic relationship. Even when you are suffocating the lives out of your own good, at least it might have been worth it in the end. All for him, as you reassured yourself

• No matter what, you still provide every support he needs for him. And like it or not, Subspace has to rely on you for as long as he still wishes to continue living. No one knows when will the two of you decide to put this torturous play into an end to free you both out of this tragedy, though by the looks of it, neither you nor Subspace has any real intention to leave in the moment. You and him are bounded together for this everlasting waltz of sweet misery, as the savior destroys himself to put the pieces on his beloved victim as an attempt to ‘fix’ him, yet the dance continues with each piece being consumed by the poison the victim carried. People couldn’t help but shaking their heads when seeing the two of you together. Yet for now, you simply want nothing more than this. And hopefully Subspace think so too, even the chance is rather slim

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Note: Did you all think floral tea will only be served in draft (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)?

Note 2: Floral tea is meant to be bittersweet, as both parties aren’t that miserable compared to the angsty load of green tea. Floral tea has the bitterness of the first time, yet slowly getting sweeter slightly when you think about the ‘false’ comfort it might bring. Green tea on the other hand? Angst, angst and pure tragedy (ﾟ∀ﾟ)

[the-californicationist]

Hello hello! I got super happy once i saw your requests open again <3 i love your writing and i would love to see Price and a reader who is too recluse and uptight, cold and distanced. He somehow noticed she likes him and stuff and it turns into what you write best, something hot and more. Basically Price shaking some sense into her, breaking her down? I don’t know if this is too much detail and I don’t know if it gives any ideas. Feel free to ignore. Love you, have a best day 🧡

Thanks so much for the ask! This is really unique, and I like the concept. I'll do my best! <3 <3

TW: female reader, afab, cunnilingus

Price scanned the meeting room as his teams filed in. The 141's operations had grown, now that Shepherd was out of the way, and new recruits with a lot of promise had come in to aid in the operations. Gaz, Ghost, and Soap sat up front, reports prepped and ready to be handed out, the logistics team sat around Alex and Farah, and sometimes, when she wasn't out doing the dirty work, Laswell would hang around the back corner, arms crossed, watching the meeting unfold. But, he was waiting for you.

You were the newest addition. Your specialty with data analysis and reporting had meant a stream of fresh, sparkling intel that was immediately actionable and nearly allowed him to predict the enemy's movements. You were a magician, and you never talked over anyone's head. Very professional, but kind. Beautiful, even though you were not a fresh-faced youth.

You also had a body that would not let him rest. He'd taken more cold showers in the past two weeks than he ever took as a teenager, and his cock was in his hand, hard and drooling, hungry to bury itself between your thick thighs.

He tried not to stare, really, he did. But, you would wear those cargo pants, belted to your waist, and he could see where your generous ass stretched the tight canvas. The way your hips swayed when you walked across the base with your data-tablet made him want to fight someone for you, even though, as far as he could tell, there was no competition in sight.

That was part of the problem. You kept everyone at arm's reach. Well, that was about to change.

Price started the meeting and tried not to keep glancing back to you in your seat. You were listening diligently, doing your job, and he felt downright lecherous at what he was about to do...

"...and so we'll be pairing off for a full facility inventory."

Groans resonated throughout the team. Complaints flooded in.

"Check the board for your partner and meet in Hanger 3. We'll start in the back storage."

"Back storage! Cap'n, unless you're lookin' for flip phones and manuals from 2007, there's nothin' we need in there," Soap protested.

"Well, Sergeant," Price grinned, "We're about to find out. Spring cleaning!"

He felt someone's presence behind him, and when he turned, he was delighted to find you there, shifting from foot to foot, waiting to be heard.

"Yes, Corporal? Do you need something? Going to whinge about the inventory as well?" He joked with you.

"N-no. No, sir. I just... I checked the board, and you are my partner, sir."

Your eyes were wide and bright. You were staring up at him and clutching that data-tablet to your chest like a shield.

He threw an arm around your shoulder and walked with you side-by-side,

"I'm just pullin' your leg, Corporal. Let's get to it."

As you worked together, the ever-observant John Price noticed a few things. First, you would stare at him when you thought he wasn't looking. Second, you would move to the opposite side of the room to work if he decided to relocate. And third, you had a bad habit of chewing on your bottom lip when you got nervous.

"You'd be no good at poker, Corporal," he commented, stacking a set of boxes near you.

"What, sir?" You looked up at him, biting that poor, innocent lip again.

"That bottom lip gives you away," you fixed it as soon as he said it, but he forced you to sit with him and asked you, "Hey, what's going on? You're doing a great job here, but I can't help but feel like you're not keen on being a part of this team."

You shook your head, sighing,

"No, sir. It's not that. I love this team... I just..."

"Just what, Corporal? We're not leaving this storage crate until you tell me. You have a crush on one of my soldiers, or what?"

Fear, now. He could see it all over your face. He reached out tentatively and put a hand on your knee,

"Hey," he dropped his voice to a dark whisper, "It's alright. I won't tell anyone."

Your voice was so small when you answered him, but gods you were brave for answering him,

"Sir... it's you who I shouldn't tell."

Price's breath caught in his chest. All this nervous energy, all this seriousness... for him? You were nervous to be around him?

"Corporal..." He was stunned.

You stood up, quick as a flash,

"I'm sorry, sir. Please forget I said anything."

You were backing away towards the door, looking like you were ready to bolt, but he reached out and grabbed your wrist, stopping you.

"Me?" He stood above you, his body looming, covering you in the small storage room. It felt like it was getting smaller by the second.

You swallowed, nodding,

"Yes, sir..."

Price reached behind you and popped the metal lock into place, sealing you in,

"Mmm... Corporal, if you only knew how long I've been prayin' you'd say that to me."

"Wh-what? Really? Captain, I didn't --"

He put his thumb on your chin, pulling the skin so that your bottom lip would be freed from your teeth, and he bent to suck it into his mouth. He wasn't kissing you so much as he was working your full, lower lip, slowly and gently, taking it between his own lips and tongue, making you catch your breath.

"In here... I'm not your captain," he smiled, kissing you fully now, "And when I'm not your captain... you give the orders. We can stop, if you want to stop."

He let the news register, showing you how true it was, backing away a bit, giving you room to say no. Price watched your face as the information sank in. It was understood, analyzed, and filed appropriately in that beautiful brain of yours, and then, the results.

You set your tablet down on the boxes and took off your shirt. He still hadn't touched you, happy to let you drive. You pulled his face to yours, placing your hands on his furry cheeks, petting his hair and knocking off his hat until it hung around his neck on its string, almost letting him kiss you, but just before he could, you whispered into his open, gaping mouth,

"I don't wanna stop."

He kissed you, then. So softly it was almost chaste. He matched your energy. If you explored him with your tongue, he explored you just as far. If you spent time kissing his jaw and neck, so did he. After a few minutes of such restrained torture, though, he was breathing heavy, and his body was begging for more.

His hands rubbed across the tight muscles of your neck and down your arms before finally discovering your heavy breasts. He let them fill his warm palms, plucking softly at your nipples and making them harden beneath his fingers.

Price spoke to you as he kissed you, as he fondled you into pliant submission,

"Do you wanna stop, love?"

You shook your head, whispering back,

"I don't want to stop..."

He bent himself like the bough of a great tree, leaning to suck your sensitive nipple into his mouth. Price warmed it with his tongue, and put it between his teeth just enough to make you writhe. Then, he slid a huge hand between your legs and felt the heat you were hiding from him there. He sighed raggedly when he found it, like he had just dropped the weight of the world from his arms.

John pressed the canvas of your pants up into the spot where your folds would part, rubbing the seam against your center, making it shove your clit back and forth along its line, making it swell and tingle. You writhed beneath his teasing, moaning from it.

"Mmm. Do'ya wanna stop, love?"

"No, fuck, no. Don't stop."

He forced open your buckle with a swift pull, snapping the metal tines and popping open your button fly. Tucking his fist into the elastic of your panties, his fingers found their soft, wet prize.

The captain sighed again, that same ragged relief, and just before he opened his mouth to speak to you again, you clasped your hand over it furiously, and warned him,

"Don't you dare fucking stop."

He chuckled, but he said nothing as he sank to his knees, looping one of your legs over his shoulder as he began to eat from your body, hungry and thirsty and needy and ready to be full of you, smearing you all over his beard, smiling all the time.

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