#rubbery softness is how they worded it

[screampied]

✩ㅤ cw. fem! reader, unprotected, established relationship, vırgin nanami, cowgirl, praise, size kink, premature ejac, mdni.

virgin nanami loses it once you tell him to ditch the condom.

“sweetheart, i—” he’d swallow, choking up on his words once cool air settles against his skin. he swallows, chewing on his bottom lip once he feels a brand new feeling. the rubbery latex wasn’t blocking him anymore, and he groans once his swollen tip smears up against your entrance. soaked, he grows quiet once he looks down to see your dripping pussy hovering over his reddened frenulum that’s tearing up with glossed pre-cum. “god, ‘s warm,” the blond sucks in a single quickened breath as a curling pout twists against his lips. “a- are you sure?”

“ ‘m sure, baby,” you whisper up against the hot shell of his ear. he’s so warm, his entire body arouse with temperature all because of the sweet sound of your voice. the center of your palm rubs against his cheek and he leans into your touch. metaphoric heart eyes form in his eyes as they dilate, his own thumping heart beating out of his chest. “ ‘s okay, inside.”

“f- fuck,” nanami’s head gradually tosses itself back, and with quick alignment, he’s back inside. he kisses his teeth once he feels the real thing, your silvery walls massaging around him. the glossy sweat that pours onto his skin shines against his body glimmers brightly. he groans, letting off a soft whine once he feels the brief tightness grow snug. “you’re gonna make me—”

and within seconds, he’s cumming, hard. nanami barely even last a second after you take off the rubber, and he’s an entire mess. with a firm grasp, he’s reanimating your hips with his hands as you slowly jerk and move. “please,” he gently pierces his teeth into your neck, shivering breath ghosting against your skin. “don’t stop, s- show me how to feel good, please.”

his words were like a broken rough whisper — you pause, staring into his eyes and he’s sincere.

nanami’s heavily panting, beads of sweat racing down each sides of his forehead. fawn kind eyes bore into yours before he glances down at your sprawled out legs. “so pretty,” he hiccups, and even his touch was delicate. he was always gentle, he didn’t want to hurt you. a few thick padded fingers drag and scurry down your hips before his lip quivers. “i- i want you, i want more.”

“so have me then,” you coo against his ear, the tone of your voice more teasing than anything. as your hips start to salaciously rock into him again, you grab onto both of his wrists, trying to guide him. “there we go, ‘ken,” you whisper, and you can hear a bundle of wanton whimpers leave from his lips—never has he had a feeling like this, ever. he was so weak from your touch, your body heat, your taste. as your fingers tenderly brush against his, you make him cling onto your rickety waist. “hold me, like this.”

nanami groans, and he’s still sensitive, very. he just came, ribbons of balmy hot seed shoots deep into you and it’s warm. it makes both of his ears ring and he only wants more, more, more.

“okay,” he replies in a husky voice, and you can see blond shaggy strands of hair glue across his forehead. “o- okay,” he repeats, his tone dropping a bit lower. the bed mercilessly creaks as your rocking accelerates, his bulbous tip jabbing around every part of your cunt. once you show him how to touch you, he just can’t keep his hands off of you. “i dreamt about this for so long, sweetheart,” and he watches your pretty lips contort into an amused simper. “s- sorry, is that too dirty?”

“it’s fine baby,” you plant a kiss near the inside of his neck. a long breath gets caught in his throat. he’s about to say something else but he pauses, pouting deeply. cute, he’s embarrassed. nanami’s cock continues to rummage through your doughy insides, so much pressure that you feel it everywhere. your sappy folds squelch within each solid thrust before your arms wrap around his broad shoulders. “you dream about me?”

“sometimes, yeah,” he huffs, and the irregular unkempt thrusts slowly transform into pure blissful sync. nanami looks so pretty, he’s losing the more you bounce on his cock. so good, his jaw tightens and he’s feeling every vein in his body prod. you were starting to grow dumb as each second past and your moans only grew louder right with him. nanami’s head buries itself into your neck before he lefts off a frustrated whine. “it’s hard not to when you’re so pretty,” and his voice cracks at the end. you feel the tip of his tongue swirl around near your collarbone and you gasp. “god, you’re even prettier inside t- too.”

“yeah?” you whisper, creating a trail of sloppy kisses down the slip of his exposed neck. he’s moaning more at your touch. you feel his beefy thigh start to bounce before his palm squeezes against your bare ass. “you gonna cum for me again, kento? ‘s okay, be a good boy ‘n make a mess for me.”

a sheepish smile stretches against his lips, though instead of sheepish smile—it’s more of a pussy drunk one.

as you stare at him, his dimples poke against both sides of his cheeks and he’s getting lost into the way your hips twirl around him. “your good boy, mhm. all yours, ‘m gonna cum a- again,” and his voice lowers significantly. your clit’s profusely getting thwacked and mashed up against his fattened tip and it’s so appetizing. with nanami’s soft mousy eyes flicking backward until it’s nothing but pure white in his sockets, he gives your ass a soft spank. “k- keep riding me like that ‘n i’m gonna fall in love.”

and it’s right as he said that — he came again.

this time it’s a lot more. it’s thicker and languidly, you feel it spew out in velvety strips. his entire base was flaccid and he’s just idle inside of you. nanami’s whimpering underneath you as his legs finally collapse. you watch him fall back against the cushioned pillows and he’s so flustered. “mhh,” he grouses as multiple jittery pants leave from his lips. nanami wraps strong burly arms around you, holding you close. “stay,” he rasps, still hearing the sloshes of his dribbling cum trickle in and out of you. he’s shivering, his teeth shattering and he’s never felt more sensitive. he’s definitely in love.

“okay,” you nod, feeling him hide his head into the crook of your neck again. he’s so clingy—but you didn’t mind, and his warm breath tickles against your skin. you get a brief scent of his rich cologne scent that drives forevermore drove you weak. sitting up to press a chaste kiss against his twitching ruby lips, you whisper shakily. “good boy.”

and nanami’s eyes were so half lidded, your praises—he couldn’t get enough of them. seconds later and he’s still pouring into you deep, painting your gummy walls with his pristine-white color. with droopy eyes and flapping long lashes taking in your beauty, nanami whines. “more, don’t stop fucking me,” and you let off a gasp once he suddenly lifts you off his lap, lying you flat on your back. you land with a soft ‘oof’ before he spreads your legs, gazing at the satiny masses of cum that race down the crevices of your thighs.

“please,” and you moan once he drags his tongue up your legs, stopping towards your puffy clit. “teach me h- how to eat this,” and his eyes rove towards your slobbering cunt. you feel butterflies build up in your tummy before nanami’s quite literally drooling right before you. not only was he probably in love, he was also hungry.

“please mistress.”

[moonstruckme]

hmmm how about james potter and shy reader’s first kiss? 💘

Idk how this sat so long in my inbox, thank you for requesting (and for your patience) angel!

James Potter x shy!reader ♡ 998 words

You know James has been holding back on your account. He’s still a thousand times braver than you are, always with a hand cast over your shoulders or resting on your back or clasped around yours and compliments dropping from his lips like they’re nothing. You find it easier to reciprocate when he makes the first move like that. To lean into his side, tighten your fingers around his, smile and tell him he looks lovely, too. 

Tonight he seems to be taking things further, and you suspect you know why. He’s seemed reluctant to let you out of arm’s reach all night. Instead of just holding your hand, he’d played with your fingers while you’d sat in the cinema. He’d pushed your hair out of your face when you turned to talk to him, and a couple of times he’d wiped chocolate from the corner of your mouth that you suspect wasn’t really there. Now, as you’re walking home, he’s rubbing a slow, absentminded back-and-forth across the back of your hand with his thumb. It feels like he’s testing the waters. 

You’ve been dating for a while now. You’d wondered when it would come. 

James walks you up your front steps, every smile he beams your way worsening the bone-thuddering beat of your heart. It’s not necessarily James that scares you. He’s perfect and lovely and kind, and you want him close so badly it’s humiliating. 

He squeezes your hand in his, and your nerves misfire, the toe of your shoe catching on the top step. You gasp as you pitch forward, but James is quick. He grabs you around the middle and you save yourself with your other foot. 

“Whoa,” he laughs. “You alright?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Sorry, I don’t know how that happened.” 

“They are your own front steps,” James points out. There’s a knowing in his eyes, in the soft curl of his bottom lip, that makes your cheeks warm and your stomach flutter. “I hate to think of what unfamiliar steps do to you if you’re falling right outside your own home.” 

“I know.” You look down, pretending you need to check your shoelaces or brush off your pants or some other ruse he won’t believe, and try not to be so acutely aware of how he hasn’t let you go. “It’s humiliating. The neighbors will talk.” 

“Let me know if they do. I’ll set them straight.” 

You grin up at him. James’ expression is as warm as his voice. His eyes go molten as they meet yours, a look now familiar and yet newly thrilling every time. It makes your spine feel rubbery. 

“Thanks for coming tonight,” he says, voice gone a bit softer than usual. “I had a really great time.” 

“I did, too,” you reply earnestly. “Thanks for inviting me.” 

“You’re always invited, sweetheart.” His touch slips from around your middle, taking your hand again. “See you Friday, then?” 

When you’d told James how busy you’d be this week, he’d penciled himself into your schedule for Friday, when the pandemonium will have ceased. He wants to cook you dinner. You think you’ll likely deliquesce into a heart-shaped puddle when he does. 

“See you then.” You smile, and he smiles back, and then intention solidifies in his gaze.

You hold your breath. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asks. 

“Please.” The word leaves you on a sigh, and then James is stepping closer to you, your fingers tightening on his. 

The first soft press of his mouth is gentle and chaste. Warm, like the rest of him, like sunlight given form. His hand comes up to hold the side of your face, and you lean into the touch on instinct, slotting your nose alongside his to get him closer. It starts so slow and lovely you’re not sure you can handle anything more, but then James parts his lips and you mirror him reflexively and his sunlight is pouring into you. 

You let go of his hand to wrap both your arms around his neck. James smiles against your lips as you press closer to him, his hand gentle on your face as he slows you both down again with sweet, soft kisses to your bottom lip. 

“Easy,” he says, his own voice slightly hoarse now. It sends shivers down your spine, light as a feather’s touch. “Let’s give the neighbors one headline at a time, yeah? Don’t want to overwhelm the presses.” 

You’re lost for words. You let your forehead rest against his, eyes still closed, savoring the warmth emanating from your lips. 

“Angel, you with me?” James tilts his head up so his nose bumps into yours. You feel your lips curve of their own volition. “Was that okay?” 

You hum. “You’re right,” you say, impressed with how normal you manage to sound. “I think we should go inside so they’re left to wonder.” 

That earns you a hearty laugh, James grasping your shoulders when you’re forced away from him by the raucousness of it. 

“You said you were tired just a few minutes ago,” he reminds you. 

“I feel awake now.” 

He laughs again, delighted, and your face warms at your own brazenness. James lets his touch slip down your arms to your hands again, taking them in his and squeezing reassuringly. 

“As much as I’d like to,” he says, “you’ve got a big week. I should let you get to bed. Plus—” he gives you a roguish grin “—keeping you wanting more is how I get you to let me in here on Friday.”

You grin down at your shoes. “That’s very conniving of you.” 

“Oh, yeah, I’m nefarious that way. But one more.” 

James tilts your face up with a hand, pressing one quick, sweet kiss to your lips before pulling out of your reach. You know you look as surprised as you feel, because his eyes dance with amusement as he backs down the stairs, his smile poorly repressed. 

“See you Friday, sweetheart.” 

[therainywriter]

Mindless Curiosity (Fluff/Suggestive)

Pairing: Rh’auk (Yautja) x Reader

You were in a hammock of sorts, tucked within Rh’auks arms while he caressed your sides. His claws drug lightly against your flesh, shirt having ridden up from his ministrations.

You wiggled and flipped around with his help, mindful of not tipping the both of you over and onto the cold, hard forest ground.

You cuddled into his chest, closing your eyes when he resumed his gentle touches. He purred at your little nuzzles against him, heart swelling at just how sweet his ooman was.

You mindlessly reached up and touched his dreads, something you’d yet to do. You felt at the strange appendages, long between your fingers, warm and slightly rubbery.

He clicked sharply, jolting at the touch. His hand shot up to remove yours, pulling it away gently.

You frowned and looked up at him, eyes wide and confused, clouded with worry, “Did I hurt you?”

His gaze was soft, “No, you did not hurt me. Don’t fret dear one,” he responded, sharp nails now trailing along your back.

You were instantly comforted, melting once more against him in reassurance. Yet you still wondered why it had garnered such a reaction out of him.

Rh’auk was very stoic, not much could break him from his usual serious dementor. Well, aside from you of course.

You broke through every barrier his flesh held, his soul entirely bare to you. He would have it no other way,

He sighed as though he could hear the thoughts running about in your mind. “You are curious, yes?”

You nearly smiled, he knew you too well. “Mhm..” you admitted softly, leaning in your head up from against his chest to look at him.

“While they usually help my species in combat, the… sensors of sorts are pleasurable at certain times,” he’d begun, having paused his explanation to find the right words.

You grew hot at the implication, realization setting in. You should’ve known, you felt beyond embarrassed for making him explain.

“It is like when I play with yo-“you hid your face in your hands, “Okay, okay I get it!” you interrupted.

He chuckled, mandibles clicking together in amusement. “Do not get shy,” he smirked, lowering your hands from your face with his own.

“It would not make sense for you to know,” he said with a kiss to your knuckles, “we both must learn.”

Though you still felt timid, he was right.

You smiled softly and kissed his exposed chest, the muscle warm under your lips.

He hummed and hoisted you up, closer to him. His voice had lowered and eyes held a promising gaze, “You may touch them, but I can not promise to hold back.”

The mere suggestion had you flustered, and once more you felt at the appendage, smooth below your fingers.

[horriblehooter]

GLORSH!

“Ahhhhhhhh…HIC! Mph…ohhhh, that’s…th-that’s a lot more than I…remember…”

The Saurian hissed softly, his serpent-like eyes looking down with a hint of anxiety, and more than a hint of personal embarrassment. Long, clawed fingers reached down and spread out, groping at the upper curve of his swollen stomach, which stretched out through the rubbery material of his costume’s abdomen. A soft whimper left the reptile, as his tail swept upwards, the snakish tail curling and lifting to press at the underside of his bloated, sagging belly. His gut sloshed and burbled in response to all the attention, and the snake bit his scaly lips, repressing another whimper as he could feel the sensitive skin seem to light up from every one of his own touches.

It didn’t help that, not so far beneath his skin, he could feel the heavy, filling mass inside squirm…he could feel fingers brush against his muscular gut walls, feel feet wiggling and almost tickling his tummy’s tough, sticky, slippery lining. He adjusted his stance to make sure he wouldn’t collapse as the weight of his own midsection swamped his body suddenly.

“N-Nara?” the Saurian whispered at last, almost timidly. “Are…um…are you…uninjured?”

The squirming intensified briefly…then a voice came from the curled-up shape inside the stomach.

“Yeah, I think so,” it answered. It was the voice of a young female, and it was…surprisingly casual, considering its owner had just been swallowed alive like a limp fish. “Doin’ good out there? Not givin’ you a bellyache, right, Hakari?”

“Not yet,” mumbled Hakari, unable to deny that the taut, stretched flesh did feel a bit uncomfortable…not helped by the knowledge that his best friend was the one kicking inside that big belly. His gut let out a deep, garbled growl, and Hakari rubbed over it with both hands to try and settle it, lest the muscles seize up and squeeze Nara more than either liked.

“Sounds like your gut likes me,” giggled Nara, as if she wasn’t inside a carnivorous shapeshifter’s digestive system.

Hakari cracked a small, feeble, worried smile.

“It’s not the only one,” he joked, but the smile soon fell. “Um…are you…sure about this?”

“Yup!” came the reply, followed by the feeling of a hand gently stroking over the stomach wall from within. “Wouldn’t have asked for it if I wasn’t.”

Hakari shivered, feeling a quiver of happiness ripple through him. His tail wiggled, flexing beneath the underside of his stomach for a moment, the tip curling up to cup his belly before twisting downard once again, the rest of the limb pushing into the overhang subtly.

“How…how long do you want to stay in there?” Hakari breathed out, feeling somewhere between pain and pleasure as he winced from a the sensation of his stomach rhythmically churning against Nara’s side.

“Eh. As long as you feel’s safe, I guess”

“Great! Then let’s get you out now-”

“Hakari. This is a trust exercise.”

“Right, and…and you trust me, don’t you? S-So there’s no need to-”

“Who said it was meant to teach me how to trust you?”

Hakari’s jaws snapped shut. His forked tongue flickered out of his mouth. Just once.

“I’m gonna be okay. I believe you. Just…lemme simmer in here-”

“Oh, please don’t use that word…”

“..Maybe for…I dunno, an hour? You’ve said your metal-ball-whatsis-”

“Metabolism.”

“Whatver…you said it’s kinda slow, soooo…an hour ain’t gonna hurt, yeah?”

Hakari squirmed.

“I…I don’t think so,” he peeped, timidly.

“Then one hour in your belly. And after you let me out, I promise I’ll give you all the rubs you could want from the outside. Sound fair?”

Hakari blushed. It was strange to see so green a face gain so much pink suddenly.

“I…suppose that sounds…amenable.”

Nara chuckled and patted the gut wall.

“Good snake,” she teased.

Hakari would have blushed more…but at that moment, his face twisted up in a grimace of discontent. He pressed on the side and the upper curve of his stomach as a soft, almost puppyish whine left him, the pressure making him turn greener in the proverbial gills than usual…then his eyes shot wide open, and his jaw rattled as it flew open. Saliva spattered everywhere, flecking off of his tongue and past his tonsils, as he let out a deep, rumbling, heavy belch.

“BUUUUURRRP!”

Hakari’s blush returned, twice as red and twice as bright, as he slapped one of his hands over his mouth in embarrassment. His gut let out a greasy, low sound that almost sounded like a sigh of relief.

“Um…ahem…p-pardon me.”

Nara just laughed, making the stomach around her wobble. Hakari gave a flustered smile at the sound.

“Good one, lizard lips!” cheered Nara from within.

“Um…actually, I’m more closely related to the subgroup ophidia than laterata or other such options…heh heh…”

“…I dunno what any of that means, but never change, Hakari. Never change.”

Hakari’s smile softened. Using his tail, he patted the side of his belly, a look of affection in his eyes.

“I don’t plan to.”

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

An early birthday present for @belliesandburps! Starring his shapeshifting serpentine ninja Hakari, looking a bit bashful with a rare bellyful of prey...especially when that prey works up some beastly belches he has no chance of muffling. ;)

Hakari's design here is based on concept sketches I made after some back and forth with B-n-B, since he mentioned wanting to update his snek boi's design a while back. Hopefully this is still somewhat up to date.

Happy Birthday, B-n-B! Hope it's a good one, and wishing you lots of cake for you and your favorite anime bois of choice to enjoy. 🎂

Also, big thanks to @twistedtummies2 for writing up the blurb to go along with the art! Go check out his stuff, he deserves the love.

[roseyodditea]

A Breath of Fresh Air - Alhaitham x gn! Reader

Summary -> 1k words. A lovely stroll with Alhaitham to get away from the bustling tavern.

Warnings -> None. Emotionally repressed men (my favorite)

A/N -> Not too closely proofread. I will have a little bit of an emotional rant at the end if you'd like to stick around <3

Super Special A/N -> I take requests for both Genshin and Star Rail :)

**********

There was nothing like being shoved against the wall of a corner booth in a tavern on a Friday night. Cyno, Kaveh, and Tighnari loudly argued as wine flowed from all three of their cups. The tavern was hot and humid, the wine tasted too dry, and the food was cold, making it an odd, rubbery texture. You sat between the wall and Kaveh, Cyno sitting on Kaveh’s other side, the two men having you shoved as far against the wall as you could be. Alhaitham and Tighnari sat across from you. Cyno and Kaveh were loud. Yelling about some rule in their card game, their movements erratic, fast, and jostling you around. Archons you were in hell. It was too much, your brain felt like it was on fire. You loved your friends, you really did, but this really really tested your patience.

You tried to hide your annoyance on your face as Kaveh moved with big, exaggerated motions. You didn’t realize you were staring daggers at whatever was in front of you until you felt a shockingly gentle touch on your hand, too gentle for the four men you spent your time with. You focused on Alhaitham, whose eyes were locked on yours, his stoic expression remaining hard as his gaze seemed to poke and prod at your mind. He seemed to find his answer as you flinched in reaction to Kaveh letting out a shriek.

Alhaitham let out a sigh, glancing towards the other three men, and upon realizing they were distracted, gestured his head to the door, looking back at you with a questioning glance. You nodded and Alhaitham nudged Tighnari. “Everyone get up.” He said and the other three men didn’t question it, all sliding out of the booth, still arguing. You slid out and joined Alhaitham as the two of you walked towards the exit of the tavern. The cool air soothing your overwhelmed brain as you walk alongside Alhaitham.

“Why-” You start but Alhaitham cuts you off.

“I was looking for a way to get out as well.”

You chuckle softly, sticking your hands in your pocket as the pair of you walk. “If you were so desperate for a way out why would you wait for me?”

That was met with silence, Alhaitham looking down at his feet as he focused on one foot in front of the other. “I didn’t want to leave you with them. They’re loud and I could tell you were uncomfortable. It was the nice thing to do.”

“You really do have a heart buried in there.” You respond, looking up at the stars, Alhaitham having to reach out and grab your arm to guide you away from the myriad of tripping hazards he had suddenly become all too aware of.

“Don’t let the others hear you say that.” His hand slipped down your arm, and you allowed your fingers to intertwine with his.

“Are we finally addressing it?” You look over at him, his face still stoic as ever, but his eyes swirled with something you only saw in these small moments shared between the two of you.

“Not yet.” His voice was uncharacteristically soft. “I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

Of course, there was a pang of disappointment that ran through your chest. You got tired of this back and forth dance the two of you seemed to never take a break from. The inaudible music only swelled louder in these moments. “That’s alright.”

“How long will it be alright?” He looks over at you, the red around his pupils seemed so bright in the calm light of the city at night. “You deserve someone who you won’t have to wait for.”

“Oh, hush. You’ll be well worth it.” You reassuringly squeeze his hand. You were only met with silence, the man no doubt retreating into his mind, the walls you were trying so desperately to break down only solidifying further. “Beautiful night tonight.” You try to break the tension, something, anything to break this damned tension.

More silence was your only answer. You internally cursed at yourself, just wanting to enjoy this moment, the only thing drawing you out of your self loathing was the gentle rub of his thumb against your hand. “It is quite wonderful, isn’t it?”

Before either of you knew it, you were standing in front of your door. “I thought we were going to go back to the tavern?”

“I left my wallet there. Kaveh will know to pay for our drinks… Hell, he’ll probably end up using my money to pay for everyone.” He grumbles before shaking his head, picking up his gaze to look at you. “I… I don’t want to make you wait anymore.”

“Alhaitham you really don’t have to push yourself. I can-”

“Please.”

“I don’t want you to do something you’re not-”

“Please just let me do this.” His voice was still steady, not betraying any of the emotions he felt. “May I?”

You felt your heart rate pick up, you felt the cold air of the night become almost suffocating. “Yeah… Sorry… I won’t interrupt anymore.”

“I know I’m not the best man. I’m cold, I…. I thought it would be easier.” He scoffs, running a hand through his hair before looking back to you. “It was easier when I was just thinking about what to say. But now that you’re here…”

You smile, finally getting what you’ve been wanting… Finally. “I don’t need some big rehearsed speech. What feels right?”

Alhaitham scoffs. “I’m not the type of person who knows what feels right.” He tries now, of all times, to be logical. “It’s unpredictable. I don’t know what’s about to happen. I don’t know what this will lead to. I don’t know-”

You shut up his nonsense ramblings by placing a kiss on his lips, pulling away just as quickly to let him weigh his options. You could see the calculating nature of his eyes stop on a dime.

He muttered before capturing your lips in another kiss, this one more deliberate as his hands moved to hold either side of your face. He backed off a bit, looking into your eyes. “Yeah… Yeah, that felt right…”

**********

A/N -> I started this account and posted my first oneshot TWO DAYS AGO and the amount of likes has been staggering. I started this as a way to unwind after work and the fact that people actually like my writing makes me so happy. I've always wanted to write but I was a bit scared to get into it. It doesn't seem as intimidating now. It's refreshed that creative side of me that's been struggling with art block for over a year now. Writing is a lot quicker and simpler for me than art is. I'm enjoying being a creative again. Thank you :)

[buggy-samaaa]

Touching his neck...stump. yep. Smut. Non-con? IDK THIS IS WEIRD

---

You had been babysitting Buggy's head lately, and the two of you had hit it off. Buggy flirted incessantly, and you returned the flirts just as much, to the detriment of the rest of the crew's sanity.

One day, you asked Buggy an interesting question.

"Can you feel your ... um. I'm not sure what to call it. The stump? Of your neck."

Buggy raised an eyebrow. "Well, yeah, it's part of my body, duh."

You were still curious about it. "It looks really smooth. Can I touch you there?"

Buggy tried to squirm away as you reached out for him. "Wha-- No!! That's weird!"

"Why?? Does it tickle or something? C'mon, let me touch!"

Buggy tried to hop back with the momentum of his head turning, but he ended up falling and presenting the stump to you. "Ah, shit," he muttered. "This is not permission! I'm simply in an unfortunate position! Lift me up, now!"

It was eerily smooth, the stump. So perfectly flat. Surely it felt like skin, but it looked rubbery? You wondered if it would feel slippery like a sting ray.

"You're doing a lot of not-helping right now," Buggy said, trying to roll and get a look at you, but he just managed to fall sideways and squish his cheek against the table. "Ow! Babe I'm serious, don't touch me there."

You inched forward, still sorely tempted by the wiggling mass.

"Hey-- HEY--" Buggy started shouting as your flat palm got closer to his neck stump. "WAIT WAIT WAIT--"

It was too late, you had already pressed your palm against him. It WAS slippery. And soft, but it had no give to it. Like touching, well, a stump of a tree, but it was... flesh. It was quite possibly the strangest thing you'd ever touched. Then you realized that Buggy had gone silent for once.

Buggy was biting his lip, hard, eyes squeezed shut. You blinked and pulled your hand away, which caused him to release his breath and open his eyes. "Okay, you've had your fun, now get me up."

"What does it feel like?" You asked, still ignoring his request.

"If I answer, will you PLEASE set me upright?"

"Yes."

Buggy searched for the words. "It's like... I have a wound, and someone pushed their hand inside of it and felt around. But it doesn't hurt. Just feels... super unsettling." He shuddered, remembering the sensation. Buggy waited for you to pick up his head and replace it on the table, but you weren't moving to do so. "...Babe?" he said tentatively. Then he gasped involuntarily when you set two fingers against his stump. "C'mon, you promised--" he was cut off by another gasp when you slowly caressed it. "Baby, you gotta stop," he begged, getting slightly pink in the face.

"It seems like... you kinda like it," you say with surprise. "Is that true?" You run your thumb along the edge slowly. Buggy made a high-pitched sound and shuddered, growing pinker.

"N-No!" he said unconvincingly. But he let out a little moan when you ran your knuckles across the skin. Then he felt your hair tickle his neck as you got close, on your knees in front of the table. "Oh, God," he mumbled, sweating, and he swallowed hard.

You hesitated before you leaned in and breathed against his stump.

"Oh, God oh God oh God," Buggy kept mumbling, starting to pant.

You pressed a soft, slow kiss against the center of his stump.

"Ffff--Fuck--" Buggy said thickly, almost wheezing.

Then you licked it, a long stripe ending in another sweet kiss.

Buggy's tongue lolled out of his mouth as it opened wide with a strangled moan. "Ah--Babe--Please--" he cried, breathing shakily.

Suddenly, the doorknob squeaked. Buggy let out a relieved groan when you quickly stood and placed his head upright where it had been before. Sanji walked in with a smile. His smile faltered when he realized how heavily both of you were breathing, and he noticed your red faces and lack of eye contact. Sanji backed up to the door, opened it again, and left the room awkwardly.

"He knows!" Buggy hissed at you.

"As if he could ever guess!" You hissed back. "He probably thought we were just kissing!"

"Yeah, 'cause I get covered in sweat when I kiss somebody," Buggy spat back at you sarcastically. "Either he knows, or my reputation as a make-out magician has gone completely out the window."

You both sat in seething silence for a moment. "It did feel good though, didn't it?" you asked with a mischievous smile.

Buggy pouted and turned his head away as much as he could. "Once I get my body back, you're gonna wish you'd never tried anything."

"Don't threaten me with a good time. I'll do it again and more, just you wait."

[sinnerdolly]

Good loser—Nagi Seishiro

Minors do not interact. Nsfw/Smut.

word counter—1160.

Plot—Nagi's just lost a game, so now he wants to claim his consolation prize... you.

warning— stable relationship, soft!dom Nagi, kinda public sex. Y/n has a bit of a pedantic personality with everybody except Nagi.

English isn't my mother language, if you see any error you're welcome to correct me.

People are complex, attraction even more so, added to attraction we have monogamy, which we want to make independent as well. Because holding someone else is a symbol of little commitment, but the separation of assets is logical.

Toxicity is quite abundant these days, or so I see walking the university hallways. Fights between boys over some bimbo with a nice ass, a primate situation; hippie allies philosophizing to fuck her "friend", plot twist she's going to fuck the biggest idiot of all. Because, I repeat, instinct chooses.

And, unfortunately, I found myself in the same situation. My eyes went to one boy in particular, Nagi Seishiro, my recent boyfriend. Five months of relationship, thanks to my desire to sleep at a party and him playing video games in the same room when I woke up.

For a prejudiced critic like me, not deciphering him made me interested in knowing him. Nagi was such an odd chap. At first glance he was lazy and listless, but losing somehow highlighted a passionate fire in his eyes that made me wet.

Like this moment, he had just lost to Ryusei Shidou on penalties, and he was heading towards my place in the stands, his gray eyes focused on me, sweaty and frustrated, desperate to claim me as a consolation prize, knowing how much I love to be it.

He stood out in the crowd, the imposing manner of his walking causing people to step out of the way. Pretty funny since he's the gentlest person I know.

“I want you right now”

I nodded like a fool, hypnotized by that aura of a caged beast that his pores gave off. The heat in my belly spread to the inside of my legs, the desire awakening in anticipation. The words he had just said meant one thing... he was going to fuck me in the first lonely corner he saw. So I went down the steps, taking him by his narrow wrist and we disappeared through the doors of the main bedrooms.

When the door closed, I couldn't continue on my way, Nagi grabbed me by the left thigh, and carried me only with the strength of one hand. Our noses touched, and his eyelids were no longer half-closed from laziness, but from desire. My mouth was watering from kissing him.

With each step the kisses became more intense, the touch had a purely carnal objective. My hand went under his shirt, feeling the smooth sculpted skin on his abs, while he dryly rubbed his erection against me. Sighs and ragged breaths, interspersed between lips and tongues.

The laundry room didn't have a key, so Nagi soon slammed the door to lock us inside. My feet met the ground again, while his hands caressed my buttocks in search of the condom that I always bring to his games.

I threw my blouse somewhere in the room, unbuttoning the fly of my pants afterwards. With impatience consuming him, Seishiro lifted me by the waist and sat me on one of the washing machines, finishing the job on my jeans.

Now with complete freedom of my joints, he placed me like a rag doll around his hips, pressing me against his chest. The warmth that his skin gave off took away the cold of that humid room.

He opened the condom with a slight tug between his teeth. And he scattered desperate kisses along my neck and collarbones, while he spread the latex along his cock. My fingers tugged at his white hair a little, drawing a few gasps from him.

It was enough to move my panties aside a little for him to slide between my rubbery walls, so lubricated that they didn't even need prior stretching. Of course, with or without games, it's always hard to take Nagi, if it weren't for his softdom nature, I probably wouldn't be able to handle him.

His thrusts were deep, as were his lips devouring mine. My body was pressed against his immense figure, while my legs were held in place by those large hands.

It didn't take long for the moans to spill out into the darkness, our gazes connected, expressing the sated lust for the other. I could feel his racing heart pounding against my chest.

The moment was so intimate that it was difficult not to come from the pleasure, Nagi blinded my senses, the chemistry between us makes the most ridiculous situations passionate, like now, fucking on a washing machine; but at this moment, with his member stimulating every erogenous zone inside me, it seemed like a scene worthy of a Shakespearean novel.

Nagi twitched between my walls, signaling that he was close. I let out a little cry of surprise when I was in the air again, holding on tightly to Sei's shoulders, who, with just the strength of his arms, began to fuck me with fervor again.

My moans turned into a kind of hiccup between jumps that made him put his hands on my butt. Stunned by my boyfriend's actions, I looked into his eyes, to find that obsessed look that only appears on the court focused on me... tss and I thought I couldn't get any hornier.

My lungs were suffocating, and my eyes were watering from the pleasure. I think my lower lip was bleeding from how hard I bit it, trying to reduce the screams. Almost impossible when his sturdy tip hit so deep, and his thickness stretched me so well.

"Sei..." I gasped desperately, tightly wrinkling the collar of his t-shirt. “I'm going... I'm coming”

He kissed my lips one last time, before convulsions shattered my stability and pleasure exploded throughout my body. My eyelids closed, and the waves of heat seemed eternal along with his attacks against my center.

I was so sensitive that I could feel the condom being filled inside me. Now still, Nagi held me while we caught our breath, still hit by the intensity of the orgasm. A minute or two later, he placed me on the washing machine again.

And, with a somewhat cooler head, we managed to talk.

“I'm sorry you lost, are you okay?”

I caressed his cheeks gently, while he replicated the action on my thighs. He gave me one of his taciturn smiles, Nagi is one of those people who smiles with his eyes and barely moves the corner of his mouth, an adorable detail from my perspective.

“Good? I couldn’t be better”

Sei pushed his weight forward, ready to kiss me. Apparently during our intimate time we pressed several buttons by accident, because the machine below me started to move, scaring the shit out of me.

Nagi laughed when he saw me clinging to his chest like a terrified kitten. I hit his shoulder, feigning offense, but he continued laughing... so I had no choice but to kiss him while laughing.

What can I tell? The other couples are shit next to us.

[surelysilly]

something i didn't need to be writing when i need to get thru maybe like 100k more words before i can even post it

The pads of the man's fingers are soft beneath Tim's chin, and he's gentle in tipping his face upward. The kindness ends there, however. “Sucks to be you, huh,” rasps from within the deep shadow of the sack-like hood. Deep. Hoarse. Vaguely… familiar with an outside accent. “How old are you anyway?” “Old enough,” Tim replies evenly. That gets a hum, and then a deep inhale. A bright line of noxious green appears, highlighting the rubbery cord of a nasal cannula and freckled cheeks, the gleam of blue eyes. Tim stiffens. Is that— Cruelly, an exhale follows. Tim’s breath stutters as a cloud of mint flows from the man's mouth and breaks across his face. Fear toxin. Shit. He kicks a little, jerking his chin free, and forcibly exhales his half a breath, but. But all it takes is just even a little. His heartbeat thunders in his ears, but even under that he can hear the man's light laugh. “Sorry, sorry, that was mean, wasn't it?” he says, and tentatively places a hand in Tim's hair, threading his fingers through the locks. The cold touch makes Tim grit his teeth, nearly take another breath. “They paid good money to borrow me, not the gas, so don't worry about it, okay? Just think about quitting after this, go to college or something. Move very, very far away.” What a joke.

[finniestoncrane]

HELLO FINNIE!! HELLOO FINNIEE!!!

We already talked a bit about this but, would you make some headcanons about how all the mercs from TF2 would hug and comfort someone having a bad awful day?? Please and thank so very very much LOVE YOU 🧡

TF2 Merc Headcanons thank you gus gus for asking me for my very personal and no doubt completely off-canon opinions on the boys!! i too needed some comfort and hugs from them omg u-u i'm also very much hoping that these work platonically and romantically!! ❤️ request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: comfort, hugs, cheering up attempts

scout

he struggles to take things seriously, younger brother in a sitcom ass

"there, there, it could always be worse... i guess, maybe... probably not though this is pretty bad"

a gentle pat on the shoulder, and then another, and then another, and then a relatively painful whack to see if the shock works

playful teasing that maybe makes things worse at first, but makes you giggle

and then when he takes it too far, gives you a reason to pummel him, which lets you release some of the anger!!

even with his often blunt and immature response, there's always a sense that he cares deeply

it's there in his embrace, a one armed side-hug that pulls you in close while he asks you in his softest tone

"hey, you wanna go play baseball or somethin'?"

pyro

hugging isn't actually his go to response, and it's not third or fourth on his list either

first of all, he's taking you outside to set fire to something

it's cathartic, and fun, and dangerous!! and FIREY

then he's trying all of the things that make him happy!!

you can play dolls with him? or have a tea party with his stuffies!

or maybe you just wanna lay on your tummy on the floor and do some colouring in

but if none of that cheers you up, and he can't destroy the thing/person that made you sad

then he'd wrap his rubbery little hands around you and bring you in for the biggest squeeze he can offer

sniper

pack it up fellas, it's time to head out on a "touch some grass (or sand)" nature trip to cure the blues

you get to sit up front in the van, obviously

not in the back where you're bouncing off the walls and ceilings

he'll stop at every service station to get you a fun beverage or a snack on the off chance that it will make you crack even a little smile

and then you'll be out there in the world, safe because he's standing directly beside you

he's surprisingly big on physical affection, so he'll have you in a side hug most of the time, just to keep you comforted

and before he lets you go off to your room, he'll get out of the van and give you the biggest hug

full body, very warm, very gentle, completely silent

heavy

the gentle energy in him is in itself, quite intense

likely because he has all of this stored up nurturing and soft encouragement and gentle adoration

but his sisters don't really need it (and let's face it they never did, he just over worried)

so if he has a reason to love and comfort, he's taking it

you'd barely even have to utter a little word of sadness and he'd be wrapped around you

maybe so tight that you might have to get your ribs checked at the emergency room

but the bear hug is worth it

it's warm, safe, comforting, everything that heavy is

and bonus: he can lift anything and anyone

so if you need to be cradled like a leetle behbeh to get some sleep or to work through the sadness, then he can do that!!

soldier

TURN YOUR FROWN UPSIDE DOWN SOLDIER!!

there's so much to be grateful for!! like freedom!! and honey!! and guns!! and america!!

but if none of that works, he's willing to put his shirt back on just long enough to let you nuzzle into his chest for a hug

and if you're very lucky, you might feel another large set of arms around you

because if soldier is hugging you, then zhanna is joining in

maybe with a menacing reminder to stay away from her man

but still with enough warmth that you're surrounded from both angles and left with a fuzzy feeling in your chest

and a little bit sweet and sticky too...

medic

a sensible shoulder pat is his first port of call, because he's usually elbow deep in some body cavity or other

and there's not much he can offer in the way of extensive comfort that doesn't involve you being covered in blood, or worse

but once he's cleaned up, he's all OVER you

you're just a little dove in need of some snuggles

a little soft coo in your ear while he holds you close

a gentle stroke with his large hands so he doesn't hurt you, keeping things light and gentle, not intense (as he usually is)

face smothered in his chest as he rocks you back and forth and sings a deeply concerning lullaby

and then, if none of that works, he'd let you root around in his pile of "dead bits" for something to carve up

it really does let out all of the tension and stress

engineer

oh no don't be sad, he can't engineer his way out of this one...

or can he... OH!! maybe what you need is some comfort, he can do that

just give him 16-20 hours and a large amount of sheet metal and screws

he can work something out, like a little machine that can pat your head at different intervals depending on your needs

or a set of arms that can hug you, as well as deploy turrets and toss grenades!!

but you still look sad... perhaps, while you're waiting on him to create the cure for your sadness

you'd like a little hug?

and honestly, who can hug better than a short king with thick arms? perfect height, perfect squeeze, sweet little honied words to make you smile

absolute love bug with a perfect remedy (eventually...)

demoman

"do you want to drown your sorrows like a horrible wee beastie?"

"or do you want me to come over there and cuddle ye like a wee bairn?"

you can choose one or the other, or both!! either way your soul is going to feel lighter and warmer by the time he's finished with you

and, realistically, you're gonna get hugged either way

once he's drunk enough he won't be able to stop himself from holding you so tight you can't breathe, smooshing your cheeks between his palms, and just generally loving all over you

"yer a bonnie wee thing, i wish you never had to pout they wee lips"

he's slurring his words, but they're all meant with the greatest of sincerity

and you can bet he'd be just as willing to do it all sober

spy

he's a man of few words when it comes to comfort

somehow, despite his confidence in every other area and his preparation for every scenario, this one escapes him

the risks are a lot greater, somehow, than anything else

because he feels like he has to cheer you up, he has to make you feel better

anything less is a failure in his mind

so if you come to him with wet, sad little eyes he won't say a word

a quick grab of you by the shoulders, bringing you in to his room

where he'll wrap a robe around you and make you a nice omelette

and feed it to you in manageable bites

and give you a little tiny peck on the cheek and a quick tap on the head

and then a hug that could be formal or very romantic, it's hard to ascertain the meaning behind it, but it gives you exactly what you need without revealing anything

[ameliora-j]

— favorite girl 𐐪𐑂 niall horan

𐐪𐑂 summary -> you accidentally push yourself too far into subspace and soft dom!niall takes over

𐐪𐑂 content -> fem!reader, smut, masturbation [f!receiving], overstimulation, squirting, subspace, toy use, dominant/submissive themes, personal assistant!reader, crybaby!reader, soft dom!niall, daddy kink, praise, casual dominance, lots of pet names [pet, petal, princess], tooth rotting fluff and a bit of domesticity, basically an aftercare fic, 18+ ONLY MDNI

𐐪𐑂 words -> 2.6k

The sexual frustration had been bubbling in your core for as long as you could remember. Niall didn’t mean to neglect you, truly… But with The Voice, and then his album release, and merch, and tour dates bleeding together with festival dates, his schedule had become hectic. And as his assistant, so had your’s. It’s not like you could put ‘dick me down’ into his calendar either.

Well, you could… But you felt that it’d be quite immature. So now here you lay, sprawled across the bed you shared with him, a thick toy plunging into your g spot over and over. You’d lost count of how many times you’d made yourself tip over the edge, each orgasm bleeding together with the last. Tears of overstimulation prickled the corners of your eyes and you were nearly ready to give up.

The problem isn’t that you needed release—clearly that had already happened more than enough. However, no matter how big or thick the toy is, or how many times it plunges into that spot that makes you see stars… Nothing is Niall. Nothing would ever compare to the way that he made you feel, thus you were now bordering along orgasm number six and still weren’t satiated.

Not for lack of trying, however. You’d been at it for the better part of three hours, starting off slow and teasing yourself the way Niall always did, then slowly picking up the pace until you were blindly overstimulating yourself, your hips chasing the toy subconsciously in search of that spark Niall ignited inside you. Unfortunately, it never came. And that’s how you became a mess on the bed.

Tears streaked down your cheeks as you gasped and wheezed for breath. The stimulation of your cunt was beginning to hurt. Slowly bleeding in from pleasure to burning pain. You wanted nothing more than to get away from the overstimulation, but your hips couldn’t help but chase the feeling as you searched for something only Niall could give you.

For a moment, everything stopped. Your leg was lifted in the air, arm beginning to cramp as you continued to shove the toy into your cunt. The world began spinning slower, and your vision slowly faded until it was completely blocked by a milky white cloud of euphoria. Your legs shook violently, your body convulsing as the toy slipped from your hand.

You lay in the middle of the bed, panting quietly as you tried to catch your breath while your body shook atop the comforter. Beneath you was a puddle of your own arousal and sweat, and only when you noticed how wet your body had become did the reality of the situation begin to daunt on you.

You just touched yourself. You just used a toy. You just made yourself cum… Multiple times—all of these without Niall’s permission. You broke so many rules. He’s gonna be so mad at you. Your heart began beating faster in your chest, now out of fear rather than exhaustion. You bolted from the bed, quickly getting yourself cleaned up and into one of his shirts before taking the sheets down to the laundry.

Your legs were unsteady as you walked around the house, and your mind unfocused. Niall would be home soon, and likely expecting dinner on the table the way you’d always had. So, that’s what you did… Or rather, that’s what you attempted to do. Your mind was so fuzzy, and your brain so unfocused that you ended up burning the pasta for your chicken fettuccine. The chicken baked improperly, and ended up tasting rubbery, and the garlic bread was too garlicky.

Nothing came out right, and you were so overwhelmed that by the time Niall was opening the front door, tears had begun spilling over your visage. “Hey Pet. I’m ho…” Niall cut off his own sentence, freezing in his tracks as he saw your state. “Pet? What happened?” He asked, panic and worry laced in his voice.

“I’m sorry” you whined out quietly. “I’m sorry Daddy, I burned dinner. And I messed everything up” you hiccuped out. “I was so bad I’m sorry, I’m sorry” you rushed out, now borderline sobbing.

Niall’s heart cracked, and his arms wrapped around you tightly. “Oh baby, it’s okay” he murmured. “It’s okay, princess. We can just order a pizza, yeah? Daddy’s not mad” he whispered softly, gently stroking your hair. “Not mad at you, jus please stop crying. Hate it when you’re so sad” he frowned softly.

“No, I broke the rules!” You sobbed roughly. Niall’s frown turned to one of confusion now, rather than pure sadness. He rubbed your back gently, pulling back a bit to gaze properly at you.

“What are you on about, Petal?” He hummed gently, squeezing lightly at your hip. He did everything he usually would, working to calm you down so that he could fully understand what was going on and why his girl was so distraught.

You took a deep breath, wheezing a bit as you struggled through your tears. Niall cooed at you in encouragement as you did your breathing techniques. Once you had calmed down, you began to divulge how you'd been so bad, breaking his rules. “I’m sorry, Daddy” you sniffled. “I was so needy and you were so busy. Know ‘s against the rules but I used my toy. Came so many times but it wasn’t the same. Needed you” you whined quietly, knuckling at your eyes. You took another breath, attempting to keep your tears at bay. “Touched myself, used my toy, ‘n made myself cum. Didn’ ask Daddy if I could, that's bad,” you finished. “I’m sorry for being a bad girl, Daddy… I’ll take whatever punishment you give me” your whispered.

“Oh, Petal…” Niall whispered softly. He pulled you closer, gently running his fingers through your hair. He lifted you then, carrying you to the couch and sitting with you on his lap. He pulled you to his chest, rocking gently with you in his hold to aid you in relaxing. “Daddy’s not been good to you lately, has he?” He asked softly, gently moving your hair away from your face.

You stayed quiet, afraid that he was taunting you after you’d broken so many of his rules. Nervous that he was trying to trap you into making your own punishment worse as he so often did. But you couldn’t handle that right now, you were too soft. Niall, being the oh so attentive and loving dom that he is, recognized that. He saw the unfocused and glossy look in your eyes, the distraction and frustration the moment he stepped into the door and watched you cooking dinner. Only, he didn’t realize how bad it was until you finished explaining what had tipped you to this point.

“‘S okay Pet, you can be honest” he hummed. “Been ignoring you, haven’t given my Princess the proper attention she deserves” he continued on. “Wasn’t a very good Daddy, was I?” He asked gently.

“No, Daddy…” You whispered shyly, gently nosing against his neck in search of more comfort. He squeezed your hip lightly, humming as he held you closer. You sighed in content, closing your eyes as your body fully relaxed against him.

“There’s my girl” he whispered, stroking your hip with his thumb as he felt you become malleable in his hold. “I’m sorry I haven’t been payin’ attention to you, sweetheart. I’ve been so distracted by work. That’s no excuse though, is it?” He asked. The question was rhetorical, and you knew as much when he continued on to answer it on his own. “Should always have time to take care of the prettiest girl in the world” he smiled softly, gently kissing your nose. “I love you, sweet girl. My good girl” he smiled softly.

“Good girl” you echoed quietly, nodding as you held him tighter. He smiled softly, pressing another kiss to your head.

“What do you say we have a bath and then cuddle a bit, hmm?” he asked softly. “I’ll get your hair all done, get you nice and comfortable for bed” he murmured, kissing across your shoulders. “Can order a pizza and put on that show you love so much, that sound good baby?” He asked softly.

“Sounds good, Daddy” you whispered, bobbing your head gently in a nod.

“It’s okay princess, ‘s just Niall now, hmm?” He smiled softly, kissing your head. “Think you’ll be okay if I go and clean up the kitchen?” He asked softly. You nodded once more, and with that he stood. He tucked the throw blanket around your slightly-shivering form and went to the kitchen. He was quick to clean up the mess before coming back to carry you into your shared master bathroom.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ

Once in the bathroom, Niall set you down on top of the counter. He kissed your head before he turned and ran the water, making sure that it was the right temperature for you. He shot you a charming smile as he went back over to the cabinet you were sitting on top of. “What kind of bubbles do you want, Pet?” He asked softly, planting a gentle kiss to your calf as he kneeled between your legs in front of the cabinet.

“Um…” You hummed softly as you thought, chewing gently on your nails. “The lavender one” you finally decided, looking down at him with a shy smile.

“Take your fingers out of your mouth, beautiful” he mumbled, kissing the inside of your knee as he said it. He was firm in his words, but gentle in his kiss—speaking to you in the way he always did in this state of mind. This way, you knew it was an order, but you also knew he wasn’t mad at you. You murmured a quick apology, pulling your hand away from your mouth. He simply kissed your leg once more, letting you know all was okay before grabbing the lavender bath salts and bubbles.

He stood again, kissing your gently puckered lips and causing a giggle to spill past your lips. The sound was music to his ears, especially after hearing your heartbreaking sobs just minutes ago. He couldn’t help the smile that broke out onto his face as he saw your happiness return. “I love you, Pet,” he smiled softly.

“I love you too, NiNi” you whispered. The nickname let him know that you were slowly returning to your usual self, though the fog in your brain hadn’t fully cleared up yet. He turned, pouring the bubbles and salts into the water before returning them back to their rightful place beneath the sink.

Once the bath was full, Niall turned to you. He saw you nod, and knew you wanted him to undress you rather than do it yourself. He smiled in adoration, walking the short distance to you once more. He kissed your head, unable to stop himself from adorning your skin with his gentle lips for what felt like the hundredth time since he got home. Niall was soft as he unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it from your shoulders to leave you bare before helping you out of your underwear. “Do you want me to sit in with you or stay out here, Petal?” He asked you gently, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear so he could get a better look at your pretty face.

“In please” you answered softly. And Niall would never say no to you anyway, but with that pretty pout and those wide eyes, he was already a complete goner; unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off of himself as he got ready to bathe with you. Once he was bare, he lifted you from the counter and sat in the bath with you in front of him, between his spread legs. When buying a house, Niall had taken into consideration your love for baths after he fucked you into oblivion—and right now he was thankful he remembered so as the two of you sat comfortably in the hot water.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ

The bathing part of your bath was over quickly, washing you off always being the first thing Niall did. He noticed how sweaty your body had become from your overstimulation earlier on through the thin cotton of his white shirt you wore—thusly, he washed your hair for you as well. Even with Niall washing your hair, and cleaning your body of your sticky arousal and multiple orgasms, the bathing was over within fifteen minutes.

Your body still wasn’t fully calmed down by then, and therefore when Niall asked if you were ready to get out yet, you simply whined in protest. It had now been at least forty minutes since Niall had put the two of you in the bath. The water had begun to cool, slowly losing its relaxing aura the colder the water became. This time when Niall asked you if you were ready to exit, you nodded sleepily and yawned quietly.

Niall gently moved you, climbing out first and wrapping a towel around his hips. He unplugged the bath, grabbing your fluffy towel and lifting you from the water, wrapping it around your body. “Want me to brush your teeth for you, Princess?” He hummed softly.

“No, I can do it” you nodded softly, smiling at him. “Thank you, Ni” you murmured. He smiled, kissing your nose as he grabbed your toothbrush and toothpaste for you. He let you know that he was going to get new sheets on the bed while you brushed, and you nodded in reply. While Niall made the bed, you brushed your teeth and got your skincare done. By the time you were walking out of the bathroom, Niall was putting the pillows back on the bed.

“Hi, pretty girl” he smiled softly, walking over to you. He wore sweatpants now, foregoing a shirt as he wrapped his arms around you in a hug. “Feelin’ better now?” He asked softly.

“Yeah, Ni” you whispered, nodding softly. You puckered your lips once more, and he obliged your silent request, leaning down and kissing you softly. “I love you” you whispered as the two of you pulled back.

“I love you, Petal” he echoed, kissing your head. “Let’s get you comfortable, hmm?” He smiled, carrying you over to the bed. He sat you down, going to your drawers to grab panties and one of his white t-shirts. He gently put them on you, helping you to put lotion on before detangling your hair.

He finished getting you ready for bed and got you beneath the covers, climbing in with you and pulling you close. He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the remote, handing it to you. “Thanks, Ni” you whispered, turning on the TV and flicking to your favorite show as he took out his phone to order a pizza.

“Food’s on the way, baby” he murmured after a while, kissing your temple.

“You’re so good to me, Ni” you whispered softly, gazing up at him from where you were cuddled into his side.

“Only the best for my favorite girl” he smiled softly, kissing your nose gently.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ

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[how-serene]

What Lurks At Night

Pairing - Michael Myers x Fem!Reader

Summary - This cat and mouse game had to come to an end eventually.

Word Count - 759

Warnings - light smut (still learning), mentions of female anatomy, knife play, mentions of blood, established relationship, original michael

A/N - slasher summer is upon us.

How could one feel like a stranger in their own home? 

Walking through the hallway felt like stepping into a pot of black ink. Long deep shadows enveloped the space, cradling your crouched figure. Your body buzzed with sheer panic, anchoring your shaking form to the carpeted floor. Darkness seemed to stretch on into infinite, offering no escape. Not even the moon’s silver light peeked in through the window. 

The house was alarmingly still, and quiet. As if even the sound of the outside world failed to penetrate through the thin walls. 

You slowly rose, using the wall behind you as a guide to navigate through the overwhelming darkness. The shadows followed, as your hand drifted over the wall, before landing on cool metal, in the shape of a bulb. Your fingers enclosed around the smooth doorknob, slowly turning it, worried he could hear the click of the lock's mechanics echo through the house. 

It was jammed. 

“No, no, no,” you whispered, pushing against the door. 

The irritated sound of creaking floorboards caused you to grow still, hand still gripping onto the doorknob. It was coming from the stairs, its heavy footfalls climbing the steps. It was easy to imagine his palm gliding over the railing, fingertips drumming against the wood as he descended closer. You felt your heartbeat pulse in your ears from anticipation. 

His silhouette came into view, the white’s of his mask somehow piercing through the surrounding shadows. A pair of black holes for eyes, hiding any known thought you might make out. The glint of the knife and its sharp outline was the only thing you could focus on though, even as he stalked towards you. 

His tall, looming figure was upon you before a word could escape your glossed lips. 

“Please-

You were suddenly picked up, and hoisted over his shoulder. The thrashing of your legs, and soft blows from your fists did next to nothing. He made his way through the hall, ignoring your grunts as he carried you into the bedroom. The thick material of his jumpsuit itched against your exposed stomach. 

“Damnit,” you muttered, eventually going limp. 

Michael shifted you in his hold, before gently resting your back on the shared mattress. 

“I really should have asked for a head start, huh,” you said, hand reaching for his collar as he hovered over you. 

The edge of the knife ghosted over your body, coming to rest above your collarbone. Ever so gently, Michael pressed the tip against your skin, until the sharp blade pierced through. You hissed, stifling back a sudden cry as dark rubies began to rise on the skin. The stinging sensation continued as he traced the knife down your collarbone, leaving behind a thin crimson trail. The moon shone through the billowing bedroom curtains, splashing over your bodies. You pressed up against him, a shuddered sigh falling from your parted lips. Instead of a black abyss looking back at you, was instead replaced with a set of warm brown eyes blown wide with fascination. 

Michael danced the knife over your chest, until it met the middle of your white satin bralette. It tugged against the smooth fabric, until the strap gave away with a clean snap. The silky material fell away, exposing your breasts. His hand traveled up, running through the dips and valleys of your body. 

“Michael…” you whined, as he kneaded the soft bundle of flesh. His thumb drew circles over the nipple bud, causing you to jerk up against him. Arousal pooled in your stomach, as you felt the sticky sensation of a wet patch forming on your matching underwear. 

You leaned forward, pressing your sheer glossy lips against his rubbery mask. The material was cold, and flat, serving as a reminder of how distant he felt at times. 

You considered gripping onto the tufts of hair, and pulling the mask back but knew better. Michael preferred to stay hidden during moments like this. 

The pads of his fingers dragged over the fresh open wound, smearing the wet blood. You flinched, sharply inhaling from the sensitivity. 

“Don’t tease anymore, love,” you pleaded, nearly whimpering beneath him. 

The blade lovingly caressed your sides, leaving behind cool phantom kisses until it reached the side of your hip. 

The thin band of your underwear was cut, the sound almost echoing in the desolate room. 

The still air stung against another fresh mark made over your hip, as beads of blood trailed down onto the clean comforter. 

Serving as a reminder that you were in for a long night. 

[fairyhaos]

. ˚ maybe... a little bit sick?

requested by anon: "Hii can i Pls request taking care of Junhui when he’s sick (like maybe he has the stomach flu or smthn) and calls you to come over and be there with him"

pairing: junhui x gn!reader

genre: fluff, established relationship, sick fic, junhui is an adorable baby

word count: 1607

warnings: pet names (baby, love), junhui exaggerates his cold by saying he's "dying", mentions of burning up (not literally tho)

notes: this is really cute actually. i think i love writing for silly soft jun a lot <3

Junhui is not a person that falls ill. 

It's just not something he does. He's proud to admit that he's probably fallen ill a maximum of ten times in his entire life, and his immune system is so good that it could probably enter a competition against other immune systems and come out on top. The immune system olympics, if you will. 

But the main point is, Junhui doesn't get sick. He doesn't get hay fever, doesn't catch colds all that easily, could probably go out in the winter without a coat and still be fine the next day (albeit with a mild loss of feeling in his nose). 

Right now, though, as Junhui rubs his nose and tries to stop his eyes from constantly watering, he thinks that perhaps, perhaps, he could be coming down with something. 

It's a horrible thought. Unthinkable, in fact. Besides, it's the middle of summer! Who falls ill in July? 

"Y/N?" Junhui croaks, and then blinks, startled by the sound of his own voice. "Y/N?"

He has to stop, then, because his throat feels like sandpaper. Plus, one of his nostrils is running, and the other feels so blocked up that it's like it was replaced with an impenetrable brick or something. 

He's not sick, though. Junhui doesn't get sick. 

The sun is filtering brightly through the curtains, and he guesses that it's late morning by now. He hasn't been able to get out of bed since he woke up some hours ago, his head throbbing and protesting with every move he makes. He hasn't even been able to check his phone. 

Junhui coughs, then, a wet, uncomfortable cough that makes his body shudder and his brain rattle around uncomfortably in his skull. He sniffs, a little pathetically, and squeezes his eyes shut. Everything hurts. 

But he's definitely not sick. 

"Y/N…" he mutters, his hair feeling sticky on his forehead, his tongue cumbersome and rubbery in his mouth. Vaguely, he remembers that you're going out with friends this morning, and won't be back for a while. The very thought makes him whine internally, upset. 

Okay. 

Maybe he is a little sick. 

Centuries pass as he lies there in bed, admitting defeat, admitting that he really is sick for once and that being sick is horrible and all he wants is for you to come help him. Why are you taking so long to have brunch with your friends, damnit? 

He's drifting off into a hazy sleep once again, his entire body feeling like it's on fire when the front door finally, finally clicks open and he hears your voice. 

"Junhui?" you call, taking off your shoes. "Junhui, baby, are you up yet?"

It's around one in the afternoon when you've finally managed to come back home after meeting up with your friends, and normally your boyfriend would be bounding towards you and engulfing you in a hug, eager to hear how your outing had been. But the apartment is, oddly, silent, and there's no sign of a hyperactive Junhui anywhere. 

"Junhui?" you call again. 

And that's when you hear his voice, coming from his closed bedroom door. 

"Y/N… in here…"

He sounds weak, like he's on the verge of dying, and you gasp when you open the door and look at him. 

"Oh, darling!" You walk over to his bedside to place a hand on his forehead, sighing when he whimpers softly at the cool sensation on his burning skin. "Look at you, you have such a horrible fever. Wait here, I'll go get a cold towel," you say, and then hurriedly leave the room again. 

Junhui coughs pathetically again. "I can't really go anywhere… but okay."

You come back in a few seconds later, equipped with a cold compress, medicine and a glass of water. The kettle whistles in the distance. 

"How did this happen?" you scold lightly, sitting on the edge of the bed, placing a hand worriedly over his forehead again. "How did you manage to get yourself so ill?"

Junhui opens his mouth to speak, but you shake your head. 

"Wait, don't answer that. You probably have a really bad headache right? Talking will make it worse." 

He closes his mouth again. 

"Poor Junhui," you murmur, wiping down his face and his sweat with a damp cloth. "It must really hurt, right?"

Junhui nods sadly, eyes half closed, as you put the cold towel over his forehead. "Hurts so much. I feel like I'm dying."

You laugh softly. "I can imagine. Can you sit up for me, baby? You need to take some medicine."

"No." He turns his head away when you offer him the pills and the glass of water, accidentally dislodging the towel from his head. "Don't wanna."

"Junhui, come on, it'll help," you wheedle softly, trying to encourage him. "You don't want it to hurt, do you? This'll help make it better, I promise."

"I can't," he whines, looking at you, and now there are tears pooling in his eyes. He coughs, then, so hard that the tears well up faster and end up spilling over slightly. Then he groans, head thumping, while you lean over to gently wipe his tears. "Everything hurts. I don't like it."

"Junhui, please?"

"No."

"Junhui, baby, it'll make everything feel a lot better."

"No."

"Junhui…"

Junhui, when he falls ill, becomes a little like a toddler. He doesn't get sick often, so when he does he always suffers terribly. He ends up throwing mini tantrums, pouting and resisting taking the medicine that will make him better purely because he doesn't want to. 

You may not have had to deal with a sick Junhui often, but really, it's about the same as dealing with a small child, so it's not that difficult. 

Several more minutes of wheedling later, you manage to get Junhui to sit up and drink the water along with his medicine. He ends up spilling half the glass all over himself and whines, looking at you with glassy eyes as if wanting you to tell him what to do. 

"Don't worry, it's just water," you tell him, stroking back his hair and adjusting the towel on his forehead to make sure it's in place. "Wanna have something nice to drink?"

In the kitchen, the kettle is beeping, signalling that it's finished boiling water. Junhui rapidly shakes his head, though, before wincing at the movement. 

"No. Don't wanna drink anything."

"Are you sure?" You tuck a damp curl of hair out of his face, noting that he's still sweating. He's really ill, the poor thing. "Have you eaten today?"

"Don't wanna eat anything."

"You've lost your appetite?" you ask worriedly. "What if I ask Minghao to come over and help make you some wonton soup? Would you like that?"

Junhui squeezes his eyes, once, and then coughs again. "No."

"I'll call him anyway," you say, getting up. "And I already boiled the water, so I'll make you some tea for your throat as well, okay? I bet you have a sore throat too."

He blinks, eyes a little glassy and confused. "Wait… how did you know?"

You chuckle softly, leaning over to pinch his cheek lightly. "Magic. Rest now, alright? You should try to sleep, let your body recover."

You back out of the room, watching his weak frame as he lies in his dim room, the curtains still drawn, eyes watery and half-open and a wet towel over his forehead. He looks so sad and forlorn, like a dejected kitten, and it would make you coo if a bigger part of you wasn't worried at just how ill he looked. 

You're just closing the door when he croaks out your name again, thin and warbly.

"Y/N?"

Pausing for a moment, you open the door again, poking your head in. "Yes, baby?"

He looks at you for a long moment, squinting out of puffy eyes, before giving you a small smile and lifting his arms. "Hug?"

Obviously, you really oughtn't. He's sick, after all, horribly so, and it would be much better for both of you if you stayed away. But his hair is all messed up and his cheeks are all flushed from his fever and he just looks so small swathed in all his blankets and really, how were you meant to refuse? 

He's warm, as he always is, and maybe he's a little warmer than usual but you let him hug you tightly, his head tucked under your chin, fingers gripping your shoulders while you bend over him and thread a hand through his hair. Junhui hums, pleased, when you lightly knead your fingers into his scalp, making little rumbly noises of contentment when your hand slips down his back, rubbing firm circles into his shirt. 

"Love you," he mumbles, his words a little drowsy but still soft and warm. 

You smile, kissing the top of his head. "I love you too."

There's silence for a moment as he continues to cling to you while you kneel awkwardly on the bed, one knee on the mattress while your other foot supports your weight from the floor. And then Junhui speaks up again. 

"Y/N?"

"Yes, Junhui?"

"Instead of wonton soup, could you make me hotpot? A really spicy one?"

That makes you smile a little, endeared, and kiss his head again. His forehead is unnaturally warm still, and you disentangle him from your arms to rest him down on his pillow again, feeling vaguely like a prince lowering his princess to sleep. 

You brush gentle fingers over his cheek, fond. "Of course. Anything to make my kitten feel better."

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @thedensworld @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @evasaysstuff @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride

[sandinthemachine]

Mortal Remains

König x f!reader

written for the request: "You know, if you wanted my attention, you didn't have to go to such extremes." With Either ghost or König? There's not enough fluff for my men.

I don't even know where to begin with this one. It's massive, the longest one I've ever written. I love it, and I hate it. It made me cry. I'm excited and terrified to see what everyone else thinks. I hope someone reading this feels at least one of those emotions while doing so (preferably not hate)

before I begin, thank you to @sprout-fics and @zwienzixes for being lovely beta readers, and a MASSIVE thank you to @itsagrimm for beta-reading, helping me work through ideas, giving me proper German translations, and all around being an amazing and supportive person. I would have given up on this without all the help.

Translations for the German will be at the bottom

Words: 12,450 (yeah...it's big just like him)

Warnings/tags: König is soft and pretends not to be, reader is afab but no pronouns used, canon-typical violence, piv sex, oral f!receiving, self-deprecation, lots of raw emotions, mental health is hard, fluffy ending

---

It started easy enough, as so many things do.

A week-long joint training exercise. Mixed teams, both 141 and KorTac. Something something bonding before the real mission. You hadn’t been listening.

You remember being excited to be teamed with Soap. At least you could get along with someone, you mused. You barely noticed the hooded figure, tall and sticking to the corners, merging with the lengthening shadows. What’s another ghost haunting your footsteps? Nothing special, that’s for sure.

The first four days fly by. Early morning patrols, always in pairs, tracking for signs of the other team. Finding nothing, you move to a different shelter, secure the area, sleep. Rinse, repeat.

The fifth day is different. There are ragged clouds cloaking the sun while the rest of the sky is completely clear. You’re not sure why you noticed that, but you did.

It was an early morning patrol, as usual, you and your partner sweeping around a centerpoint like you were analyzing a single massive clock. Northeast quadrant clear. Southeast clear. Southwest…a scuff in the dirt. You lean down, fingers tracing the air just above it, a black fleck catching your eye. You grasp it, finding it much larger than you originally expected and partially buried. You pull at the rubbery texture, curious. Distracted.

The ambush comes quietly. Perfectly so. The weight lands on your back with an abruptness that flattens your lungs, dropping you directly onto your hands. You might have twisted your wrist, but the pain of that is overshadowed by the thought of the immense beratement you’ll get from your NCO for failing so fast.

Yet the weight from your back is lifted as quietly as it arrived. You turn, rolling to your feet to find that it had been Gaz on top of you only a second ago. Now he dangles like a ragdoll in the air. The shadow holding him draws a knife, taps it against his throat. You're out.

Gaz sighs as he’s set on the ground, giving you a nod before marching off. You don’t return it, too busy staring at the man next to him.

You’d never noticed his eyes before. You’re used to Ghost’s eyes, dark and unyielding, cavernous black holes reaching into a skull long dead. Like he was born to wear the mask.

This man’s eyes couldn’t be more different. They’re pale, washed out, windows into a sky perpetually on the verge of snowfall, slumbering clouds cold and waiting.

They curve down at the corners, lending an air of melancholy to the only part of his face you can see. You wonder how he really feels behind that gaze.

You’re staring.

You clear your throat awkwardly, aiming to thank him before pausing. “I…I’m sorry, I never caught your callsign?”

The head dips down, draped fabric falling down his chest slightly. A nod. “We need to keep moving.”

And he’s walking past you.

-

Two days later, the training exercise finally comes to a head in a fierce brawl over the fake weapons cache. Knives and fists only.

The fight takes only a few minutes. Ghost on the opposite team notices your attempted ambush immediately, throwing his men after you. Your team is outnumbered, stuck in a hallway. But it doesn’t matter.

Ghost and the hooded man roll on the ground, tousling like a pair of tomcats, Ghost landing on top for just a second, raising his knife-

You’re there. Arm wrapped around his shoulders. Blade tapping against his throat. You’re out.

With that, the fight is over. Ghost moves with a grumble at the man under him. It might have been a threat. But the man doesn’t hear it. He’s too busy staring at you with grey-sky eyes wide. A child dressed as a dirty sheet-ghost. “I…I don’t know your-”

You thrust your hand out, yanking him to his feet. “We’d better head back.”

-

You feel him at your back throughout the debriefing. Rolling thunder clouds looming over your head, ready to burst at any second. Your tongue is between your teeth, lungs heaving. Soap whispers a joke in your ear, something about Ghost getting chewed out by the NCO. You can barely muster a smile.

You stay still as the meeting finally ends, waiting for everyone to filter out before you finally turn around.

As you turn, your shoulder knocks into hard muscle and you look up, craning your neck to take in the hooded face and the way his pupils are blown wide into dark pits. A gale you should take shelter from lest you be blown away. But for a moment all you do is stand there, watching your own pupils expand in the turbulent reflection.

Your teeth are carving marks into your tongue by now, and it takes you far too long to draw in a shaky breath and push past him. You have more training tomorrow. It’s sleep your body needs. Not…whatever this is.

He doesn’t say a word as you depart, but his eyes track your every move before the door shuts behind you.

-

Of course this is a night where you can’t sleep. Of course. You flip and roll, hearing your bed frame smack against the wall every time you shift until you get so annoyed you shove it further into your room and flop down on it again. It doesn’t do anything, of course. Just makes your insomnia a little quieter.

It’s nearly midnight by the time you throw your legs over the side in frustration, shivering at the frigid air before throwing on enough clothes to look decent and marching down towards the shared kitchen.

He’s there. Your luck is just perfect tonight. You take a step backwards, planning to flee back to the darkness of the hallway, but he’s already turning his head, shoulders jumping just slightly as you enter his view.

You crumple a little as he notices you, but it’s too late to do anything about it now. “Can’t sleep either, huh?” Your voice is rough as you walk over to the counter next to him, yanking an expired box of cereal from the back of it. Your arm brushes his as you pull it out.

You spare him a glance as you pry the old box open, snorting at his narrowed eyelids. You bet he’s scrunching his nose through that silly hood, too. You reach in, hearing a series of crunches as you rifle around. “Ah, there it is.” You pull out the clear bottle, shaking it triumphantly in his face. “This’ll knock you right out. 50/50 chance you get back up tomorrow.” You trail off, eyes traveling up and down him. “Well, maybe a bit better odds for you.” You chuckle half-heartedly, but it dies a second later.

You puff your lips out in a shaky breath, running your tongue along your teeth before giving him an awkward smile and raising the bottle to him. With that you leave.

-

As soon as you take a sip you spit it right back out with a blech. You’d forgotten how nasty the stuff is. You toss it into the trash can and flop back down with an irritated groan. How hard is it to fall asleep? It’s literally laying there doing no-

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the door, and upon swinging it open you find him, his looming shadow nearly blotting out the light from the hallway behind. It’s easy to forget how big he is when he’s not around. How strong he is. How…deadly.

But right now he’s leaning against your doorframe, hands tapping along his legs. “Have enough for two?”

You smirk a little at that, but as you step closer you feel the heat radiating from him, your shoulder blades clenching together as your mind begins to process something.

You’d sleep better for it. Perform better the next day. It would be good for you.

Your smirk deepens. “I have a better idea.”

As your hand tangles in his shirt you feel a tremble along his skin, but he doesn’t respond when you pull on him. “You’ve been drinking.”

“I haven’t had a drop. Shit’s disgusting.”

“Show me the bottle.”

Despite yourself, a smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you fish the full monstrosity out of the bin to show him. He nods but still doesn’t move, and you find yourself rushing to assure him as heat rushes up your neck. “If you actually just want to drink, we can. We don’t have to do anything-”

“No. That’s not it.” Finally he steps fully into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him before he stalks to you. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you hiss, moving to hold onto him again, your mind swirling with exhaustion and old memories that you just need out, right now, and he’s right there and he needs it too, you just know it as he swoops down to grab you and toss you on the bed, both of you a mess to rip your clothes off now that the facade has finally fallen.

-

After the fog clears you find yourself panting on your stomach with him above you, caging you in with his forearms. Each of his stuttering inhales brings his burning chest and stomach against your back. Before the heat can become unbearable he pulls away, breaths still heaving as he tucks himself back into his pants.

Your eyes widen in surprise when he makes his way to your bathroom and comes back, washcloth in hand, to softly clean you up. As he finishes he pauses, thumb brushing the edge of an old knife scar running up your hip. “My callsign,” he murmurs, fingers tracing its length. “It’s König.”

And with that, he leaves.

-

You were content for that to be the end of it. You’d each gotten what you needed, after all. And as you stretch languidly across your mattress the following morning, an unfamiliar relaxation settles along your tense muscles. Yes, you would be more than happy to leave it at this.

But as the next training drill ends you find yourself faced with your cold barrack and the prospect of another sleepless night. Before you even realize what you’re doing your legs are moving, ready to go to the kitchen and-

He’s right there, startling as you nearly open your door into his face. He takes a step back, but you’re already holding your hand out and his eyes are burning into you as he takes it and lets you pull him in, lets you shut the door behind you before he’s lifting you with laughable ease and carrying you to bed.

-

You’re already burrowing your face into your pillow by the time he comes back to clean you up. This time his palm runs over a puckered mass on your thigh, a nasty burn scar from failing to dive for cover fast enough. It still hurts sometimes, but the pain is good. Reminds you not to be so careless again.

As you drift off completely to the feel of his warm hand taking in the old wound, you fail to notice the way his head has turned up, eyes running over your face. He contemplates brushing a finger over your hairline, tucking the wild flyaways behind your ear. But no. That would be too…friendly. That’s not what this is.

So instead he spreads your blankets over your now sleeping form, and with one last lingering gaze, leaves you to sleep peacefully.

-

You’re not surprised when you wake up to the empty room. It was what you wanted, after all. You had gotten another restful night out of it, and he got what he wanted. It was a fair trade. A great trade, even.

And as the training drills continue and you feel how naturally your body flows, how efficiently it executes your will when you’re actually well-rested, you find yourself seeking his company out more and more. Soon the pair of you have built your own kind of routine, him coming to you the evening after each debriefing when the leftover sparks of adrenaline are refusing to die out in you both.

He always lays you down on your stomach, opening you up with his fingers as he patiently works you through your first orgasm before letting himself take you. He’s always slow at first, but he finds you restless and impatient, urging him to go faster and harder, to knock you out for the night, to knock everything out of your mind that you never want to think about again.

You try to look back once only for your face to meet his hand. With gentle but firm fingers, he turns your head away.

Afterwards he’s even more delicate, wordlessly cleaning you up with a touch light enough to leave a butterfly unharmed. Although he rarely meets your eyes, his gaze and fingers take in your body, each time finding a new scar for his fingers to brush over like a chaste kiss.

You’re asleep by the time he leaves, and you like it that way. The two of you can crash against each other like blizzards raging and howling until you finally break into clear skies. And afterwards, you’re soldiers again. Well-rested, sure. But soldiers all the same. No hard feelings, either. You know he understands.

Soon you two find yourselves assigned to the same training team more and more. It’s natural, an unspoken communication flowing between you, and your superiors see it in the skyrocketing success rates. They pointedly ignore the way your stares burn holes into each other, keeping their eyes fixed on powerpoints and mission statistics. Not their business, they tell themselves. What matters is that you two do your jobs.

-

And then finally it’s time for the mission, a deployment in the middle of a remote and mountainous forest with terrible radio signal.

Like your first training, it starts easy enough. You’re divided into two teams on two separate mountains, and it’s just your luck that they put you on the team with no one you’re close to. Not even König. Maybe the higher-ups were finally sick of you two.

But you’re an adult. You handle it. You swallow the unease that comes with the teams not being able to contact each other. It’s simply too risky, and the signals are shoddy at best anyway. Base will come in for extraction if the other team succeeds.

With practiced ease you push yourself through two weeks of empty trails and summer-camp camaraderie as the talkative ones share jokes around the empty fireplace and the quiet ones listen from the shadows and chuckle their approval.

Week 3, everything goes to shit.

You should’ve known. You really should’ve known. The weather out here can change in an instant, clouds materializing from a clear sky’s empty expanse like an angry god throwing his rage down from above. You should’ve known the people here would be the same.

Before any of you knew the safehouse was surrounded, they were already through the doors.

You remember waking up to the creak of the old door with a groan, not ready to start your watch yet. The man on watch had been short and wiry, and you marveled at how shadows warp themselves against the light, twisting and turning to make one man look like another, tall and burly and carrying a-

CRASH!

The windows burst inwards in a crescendo of sparks and you’re scrambling backwards, reaching for your

BANG!

Dust from the roof is falling on your head, in your eyes and you’re blinking at the haze, the sting, your hands feeling the solid weight of your weapon and yanking it against you, and you’re stumbling backwards towards the

BANG!

and you’re stumbling forwards towards the

BANG!

And you’re on your knees crawling crawling

BANG! BANG BANG BANG!

crawling away from everything and your eardrums are hot iron seething in your skull and your eyes are being scratched by cats and there’s something warm on your face now and there’s something heavy thunking to the floor just next to you and everything is all dark, all the shadows are choking you and-

-grey. Not black. Not the black of the inside. Grey. A doorway. A hole in the wall. You’re on your knees, your hands are on the wall, you’re pushing yourself up, you’re running, and there are patters behind you and gurgling sounds and the volleys of automatic weaponry but your vision is finally starting to clear, you can see the treeline and all you need is to get there.

A roar surges behind you, and you spin into the sun. Heat slams into your body and you’re flung, a leaf in the wind, hard onto your back as yellows and reds surge in front of you or maybe it was behind you and now you’re a deer, eyeballs bulging out of your head and rolling in your skull as you run from a forest fire, angry and starving, only this fire has legs and they’re longer than yours and it’s following you, you just know it, you can’t hear it but you know.

You’re not a human anymore, you’re barely even an animal, you’re not thinking, you’re a scramble of limbs and an impulse. Run.

You try. You try so hard but there’s nothing carrying you, your legs don’t feel connected to each other anymore and they’re not even your legs you look down and they’re still there but you can’t…feel them?

Tilting. Tilting. Tilting.

Light. Burning light.

Fade to black.

No, wait. Not you. You’re still here. Your legs are wavy and jelly but still there.

You fling an arm out and feel something solid. Cold. Rough. Bark.

You made it to the trees.

There’s no time to celebrate. Behind you lights are still flaring, and with each passing second more bodies are falling to the ground, leaking out into the snow. You have to move.

-

The second safehouse is to the north. It’s your only way out, you know that. The rest of your team would be there.

Should be there.

Better be there.

Don’t think about it, don’t think. Just move.

-

The battle is fading behind you now and your blood is beginning to cool, settling heavy in your veins like the thick jam your mother used to make on warm summer mornings just as the sun’s rays flowed through your windows.

It would be nice to be there right now. Warm. Content. Full. Your stomach growls in agreement at the thought. You have some ration bars in your pocket, but you know it hasn’t been long enough to have one. You need to spread them out, make sure they can last.

Your stomach groans again, and you shake your head. To divert your attention, you take stock of the rest of your body.

You’re scraped and bruised, your head vibrating like…oh, what is it like? Like…your phone after you get added to a group chat you wanted nothing to do with. Hehe. You can barely remember the days when your problems were as simple as that.

You're letting yourself get too distracted. Anyways, as you were saying. You’re a bit battered and scraped up, alright. But no broken bones. No visible deadly wounds. And you still have your gun clamped to your chest with shaky arms. That’s all you need, really. Making it to the safehouse will be a breeze.

-

You’re halfway down the mountain as twilight begins to lighten to dawn, and there’s still no sign of anyone chasing you. It’s a bit warmer down here, and as you flex your fingers and toes you feel the sharp pins and needles radiate through them and force a smile. It’s good, you tell yourself. Means they’re all still there. You might just be in the clear now.

Then the sky darkens again, and it begins to rain.

Within a few minutes you can’t see your hand in front of your face in the downpour and you're forced to hide out. You find a fallen evergreen and burrow through its thick boughs, needles pricking your face and poking in your mouth with a sharp scent that settles behind your eyeballs as you force your way through, certain it will block out the worst of the rain. It doesn’t.

-

It’s past noon by the time the deluge finally lets up, and as you step out, cursing your shelter for all its faults, the slick earth shifts abruptly under you. With a cry, you are yanked off of your feet into a roll down the slope. You fling out your arms, grasping for anything solid, but the world is a mass of dirt and grey-brown snow-slush and you can’t stop yourself until your hip jams into a tree-stump. Hard.

You hiss, twisting your face upwards off the ground. Bad idea. The mud-slush runs down into your nose and you splutter, spasming and hacking up half the mountain. You move to wipe your eyes on your arm but only rub more dirt in them, gritting your teeth and hissing through them at the sting.

You push yourself onto your hands and knees with a whimper, gingerly feeling around your hip. Not broken. Just another bruise. What’s one more bruise? It’ll be fine.

You’ll be fine.

-

Your ankle is twisted. You’ve wrapped it as best as you can, but every time you put weight on it, you imagine a great big serpent with needles for scales is slithering under your skin, wrapping itself tight around the bones and squeezing.

Even worse, it's getting dark again. Fucking FUCK.

You should get yourself a thesaurus for Christmas. Fuck really doesn’t have much weight to it when you say it every other sentence.

Whatever. You’re fucking screwed.

Your clothes are soaked, you’re painted in dirt and runny snow and as soon as it gets dark temperatures are going to drop fast enough to freeze you right in place like a stupid fucking statue. Fuck this, fuck this so hard what do I do what do I do.

You bury your face into your hands, heels pressing hard into your eyes. It doesn’t matter that your hands have mud mittens anymore because your face is solid mud and you’ve had dark spots in your eyesight for hours and maybe if you rub them really hard this will all be a shitty dream your shitty brain made up and then you can wake up in your shitty cot with your blanket that’s too thin and it will be so fucking lumpy and uncomfortable and perfect. It would be perfect. Maybe König would be there.

What?

You’re breaking down and going to die in a few hours and you’re thinking of him? Some dude you fuck? What the hell is wrong with you?

He was really warm, though. And he was always so gentle afterwards. For hands that kill with such brutal precision, his fingers felt too delicate to be his when they ran along your body, mapping every scar and dimple like he was trying to memorize you. Like he was terrified that tomorrow he might wake up blind and never be able to see you again, so he needed to be able to recognize you by touch alone.

You didn’t even know what his face looked like, but you could get lost in those eyes, you think. You've learned that the skin above them stretches when he’s surprised, and the skin under them scrunches up when he laughs, so you think it must scrunch like that when he smiles, too. You’ve even seen the way his lids drift down to hide the way his eyes roll back when he’s bored.

What do they look like when he’s excited? When he’s angry? Sad?

You wonder what it would be like to look him in the eyes while you both fell apart. Would he look away and screw them shut? Would they water a little, as yours so often did?

Would he stay the night if you asked? Would he hold you? Would he…

No. This isn’t happening. No way in hell. You are not dying thinking of a random man you’ve barely spoken two words to. It’s ridiculous. It’s pathetic. You’re better than this.

You will not go out like this.

You yank yourself to a tree whose limbs burst forth in sprays of dark needles, your shoulders screaming at you as you pull yourself up on the branches, feeling like a toddler learning to walk for the first time. It’s pitiful. You swing your good leg up, grinding your teeth so hard your jaw pops as you pull yourself up to a thick fork and begin pulling down limbs above you, cutting through the ones around you, tying and weaving and undoing and redoing.

It is dark by the time you’ve finished, a thick nest of evergreen boughs settled under you and woven walls crushing you in. You have to curl into a tight ball to fit into it, but you can no longer feel the breezes from outside. You’ve stripped your clothes off and spread them along the walls as best you can, hoping they can dry just a little.

You thank the mud for clogging your nose. You don’t even want to imagine what you and your clothes must smell like by now.

Maybe by the time you meet up with the others you’ll smell so bad you’ll make one of the rookies vomit. Ghost did that last mission, and you and Soap nearly burst a lung as the poor guy emptied his guts over and over again.

You chuckle at that and try your best to fall asleep.

-

By the time you make it down the mountain the next day, your knees are knocking against each other with every step and your weapon is plastered with muddy slush that has frozen and melted and frozen all over again. The valley is even worse than the slope, with runoff from the rain congregating in a swampy mess that has you sinking up to your calves in some places. Lifting a leg in this feels like pulling yourself out of concrete, so you get really good at sliding each foot forward without raising it upwards at all.

You think the pressure from the mud is helping with the pain. You barely feel it when you move now.

Your jaw is clenched so hard you chip one of your molars.

-

You’re halfway through the valley when one of them finds you.

It’s funny how it happens. How you both stand in the mud staring at each other. How you both instinctively know who the other is through the curtain of earth camouflaging you both, yet each stand stock-still as statues anyway.

A second passes.

Two.

Three.

In an instant your guns are to your shoulders, fingers rushing to crush the-

Nothing happens. You squeeze. Squeeze again. The man shakes his gun and yells in frustration, the mud and ice having rendered your weapons unfireable.

But not unusable. The man’s head whips back to you with a growl and he lunges forward, his foot sinking into a deep patch and jerking him down face first. He throws himself up again, splatting forward another pace.

You slide backward, forcing yourself to slow down, to keep your feet under you as you move gut-wrenchingly slowly, searching for solid ground. He’s flailing and flinging himself towards you but the mud is slowing him down, and there’s a rocky patch right behind you. You’re going to make it.

He reaches you before you reach the edge, raising his gun and throwing his body behind a downwards blow. Yours is already coming up to deflect, but the blow sends you backwards, landing on your back with a splash. He’s on top of you, a hand shoving your face down as mud flows around it.

You thrash and wiggle, a scream cut off as your mouth fills with liquid dirt. Your hand is whirling all around and it catches something and you yank.

He howls as you pull his ear, sending him off-balance just enough to raise your head for a choking gasp before your palm is on his face, shoving him sideways. He rolls away from you, struggling to his feet as you’re on your hands and knees and your gun is in the mud but so is his. He tries to reach for it but he’s stuck, and in that precious heartbeat of time your legs are back under you, feet planted deep and wide.

He whirls towards you as you stand, throwing a punch at your torso that you know you can’t dodge, you can’t even move, so you throw your fist sideways, twisting, forcing all your strength into shoving from your rear leg so that when you catch his knuckles on your forearm they are savagely wrenched sideways with your momentum. His pinkie pops outwards with a crunch, and he falls back with a choked sob.

You grab your gun off the ground, throwing your whole body into a swing at his head, shattering through his palm as he tries to block it. You both fall sideways with the momentum but you find your feet faster, gripping the weapon through the slime coating it as you bring the stock straight down into his skull.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

Your grip slides, dirt scraping more of your skin off with each blow, but he’s not moving. You stumble backwards drunkenly, falling onto your forearms again and army-crawling, gun held tightly in each hand, all the way to the edge. You flop on your back then, one eye on the body, and heave great breaths, coughing again and again until your body has enough and you curl inwards, choking out mud and throwing up even more. You try to even your breathing, try to filter the adrenaline out of your system so you don’t crash. In, out. In, out. In out in out inoutinoutinoutinoutin-FUCCCCCKK. You shake your head violently, over and over.

You take one last look at the body, only seeing it because you know where to look. A mud-covered shoulder pokes out of the ground, the rest already lost.

You can’t balance on your feet anymore, so you crawl away.

You don’t even bother to make a shelter that night. You crawl under a rotting log, ripping your last ration bar from your pocket and devouring it, licking the crumbs from your stained and tainted fingers. You curl up and fall asleep just like that, bones chattering and muscles spasming.

-

Helicopter blades wake you up in the morning. You’re on your feet, falling and jumping and running and falling, flailing your arms because you know those blades, that’s your team and they’re here for you and you’re finally free, you did it you did it you’re so proud of yourself you can’t wait to have a warm bath and then maybe even afterwards you can see-

The helicopter passes over you and disappears around the mountain.

You stare at it, deathly still. It’s just sweeping the area, making sure it’s safe to land.

But the wingbeats have already faded into the distance, replaced by a vast and engulfing silence. Time stretches out before you, and you’re still staring at the mountain.

Your stomach breaks the silence with a gurgle.

You flop down, shoving your face into the ground, and scream.

-

You press the button on your radio, cracking the caked mud. It clicks, and you hear nothing. Not even static. You click it again. And again, this time just to hear the sound. Rapidly you click it again and again and again.

You start laughing, your abs clenching and strangling your organs as you guffaw, thrashing around like a headless chicken, and thinking about yourself as a headless chicken makes you laugh even louder. Everything is just so funny, none of this is real, you’re on the Truman Show, you’re the biggest comedy in the world. It’s even funny that your laughter only comes out in squeaky wheezes. It’s all just a big joke. Haha. You can’t wait to tell someone.

You fall asleep just like that, grinning up at the sky with dirt in your teeth.

-

You wake up, stare into the sun, and go back to sleep.

-

You feel lighter.

Is this what it feels like to leave your body?

It’s not as bad as you thought.

-

You wonder if König will remember you.

-

The ground beneath you is moving, sliding under you and scraping along you.

There's no ground underneath you at all now, and something is pressing, and you feel your legs dangling and swinging all around you, the world spinning a jig and you the unwilling passenger. You think you might tell it to stop, but it doesn't listen to you.

You're yanked back into consciousness by a thundering vibration setting every bone against itself. You jolt upwards, feeling heavy pressure on your shoulders as your eyes roll back into your head. The world is black. Black and blue and blurred. Through the haze you begin to make out a white visage and two black voids that pierce through you.

This must be hell. You don’t want to be awake for your judgement.

Your consciousness drifts away again, blocking out the rumbling flight of the helicopter, completely oblivious to the warm bodies pressed in around you, speaking rapidly through their headsets.

Any more? Sweep around again.

There's nothing else here.

Ok. Let's bring these ones back, then.

-

You are still asleep as your body is carried into a hospital room, completely unresponsive as the nurses strip and bathe you with clinical precision. You don’t wake until hours later, seeing only a single nurse checking your vitals and bandages. Each hand and foot has been carefully wrapped, the angry red battlefield of blisters and exposed flesh meticulously covered in pristine, unblemished white. The nurse offers a smile as you fight through the haze, imagining you are underwater and slowly floating to the surface, watching the sun jiggle and warp through the abyss above you. Just bad blisters, the nurse is telling you. Very lucky. Very lucky. You think you might nod back. She’s right, of course. You’re alive, aren’t you?

-

Ghost comes by as you’re released the next day. They’ve rewrapped your hands in a bandage that gives you a little more flexibility, and he finds you sitting on the edge of the bed, staring into the white fabric.

The mattress shifts as he settles beside you. He doesn’t say a word, but his eyes are trained on you. Black voids in a mask of white.

“You left me,” you finally whisper, eyes still on your hands.

“What?”

You look at him, trying to see something in the face to get mad at, but his eyes are just a little wider than before. Confused, maybe.

“The helicopter…” you begin, voice scratchy, and clear your throat. “The helicopter flew right over me.”

“That wasn’t our helicopter.”

“It was heading back from the safehouse.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Oh,” you huff, sinking into yourself. “I…”

You stop as he clears his throat, shoulders expanding in a loud breath. “It’s alright. You were knocked out pretty good by the time our boys found you. Happens to the best of us.”

You nod, swallowing again, and wish someone else was here to comfort you, literally anyone but Ghost. “Is…uh…is…umm…is Soap ok?”

Ghost grunts. “Johnny took one to the arm, but he’ll pull through. I was just going to visit him now.”

You push yourself to your feet, proud that you only sway a bit. “Can I-”

“No,” Ghost cuts you off. “You’ll have time to visit him later. For now you need to go and rest. That’s an order,” he cuts you off as you open your mouth to protest. Your jaw shuts. Call it obedience, call it cowardice, but you find you just don’t have it in you to argue the point. You promise yourself you’ll see Soap in the morning. Well, later in the morning, seeing as it’s somehow 0100 hours already.

When Ghost leaves you slump, any need for straight posture gone with the departure of your superior officer. Trying to keep your breathing even, you will your legs to carry your body down the medical corridor. Just a little longer, you promise them, then you’ll get the break you deserve. But your body has had enough of your unfulfilled promises, and you find yourself forced to sink onto one of the shitty metal chairs littering the hallway. Just a little rest, and then I’ll go back to my quarters.

You wake to the familiar sounds of agony. Before your body has the chance to disagree, instinct has you on your feet again, hands grabbing at the thin air where your sidearm should be. My holster, my holster, where the hell is-

Your eyes land on the white-washed walls. Too clean. Too smooth. And your hands aren’t moving like they should, strangled by white fabric. It finally sinks in that you’re far from the battlefield, far from any fight.

The sounds continue, drawing your eye to one of the many nondescript doors lining the corridor. Someone having a nightmare, probably. Or reacting badly to a procedure, maybe. Either way, a problem best left for the nurses with their iron wills and their tranquilizers. You have enough bruises already. Best not add a black eye to the list.

A pitiful whimper sounds through the door, one that has your heart twisting like a towel being wrung out, sending all the blood to your throat and stomach.

Fuck it. What’s one more bruise?

Your fingers curl the handle down, and you shrink in on yourself as the door swings open on its own with a creak. You catch it and hastily shut it behind you, trying not to make any more noise.

The room is small enough that even the military-issue cot feels too big for it. The room is made even smaller by the man lying in the cot, arms dangling off the sides as he thrashes, his feet hanging off the end. You can see the crumpled blanket on the floor and automatically avert your eyes. The hood is still on, but below it he’s wearing an undershirt and boxers, and you realize this is the most of him you’ve ever seen.

You press yourself to the wall as he spasms again, a leg kicking out and narrowly missing you, causing you to notice the thick white bandage wrapped around his thigh, and the dark line slowly being painted along it.

Hesitantly you flick the lights on, wincing at the burn that rushes through your eyeballs, but he doesn’t even react to it. You have no idea how to wake him up without breaking a bone, so you press your back to the wall, slowly skirting along the edge of the room and staying as far out of his reach as you can, praying to whatever old ghosts are listening that he doesn’t wake up and go straight into murder mode. Or, you know, default alert soldier setting. This is a stupid idea.

As you approach his head you lean over as far as you can, stretching one arm out until the socket pops in protest. You poke his shoulder and leap back.

Nothing.

You take a step closer and lean in again.

You’re immediately interrupted by the door swinging open with a much-louder creak. You and the nurse both pause and stare at each other for a moment, startled, and you sheepishly move to straighten and pull your arm back.

With viper-like speed an arm shoots out to grab your wrist, capturing it in a deadly grip and you yelp, whirling back to the man in the bed and raising your opposite arm.

You freeze when you see his eyes, so wide they’re more white than color. He’s stock-still, fixated on you like a mouse caught in a cat’s gaze. Paralyzed by fear, praying. Shaking.

His hand is…shaking. “Hey, hey,” you coax, hesitantly pulling your arm back in so you can place it over his fingers. “It’s just me, big guy. You’re safe.”

His chest heaves outwards, and you feel his hand relax a little before his head snaps towards the nurse as she takes a step closer, cradling something small and cylindrical in her hands. “It’s alright,” she speaks directly to you. “I can take it from here.”

König releases the breath he’s held, shoving himself backwards on the bed with a shake of his head, prompting the nurse to click her tongue at him before raising the needle. You realize it’s a lot bigger than you first thought. “You’ll be fine,” she’s assuring him. “It will hurt a lot less once it’s done.”

König’s head turns very slowly, back up to you, and for a second you’re confused at his gaze, wondering why he thinks you have enough knowledge to give him any medical advice. Then you notice the way his eyes seem just a little too shiny in the light, the way his other hand is clenching and unclenching around the bedsheet.

You’ve always known him as the perfect soldier, quick and to the point, pin-prick precise, a dancing whirlwind of death. More monster than man. You know him as the one who laughs with every good kill, mocking the reaper of death with a smile. Look at how slow you are. I got here first. He’s the one who dances on the precipice of fate and spits over the edge.

Even sprawled out like this, sweaty and trembling, you are well aware of every flex of his muscles, of the strength he holds back in his grip. Yet as you look into the eyes of the storm you find that for the first time you see no hint of the giddy killing machine looking back at you. The eyes staring back at you from this big soldier’s body are those of a fragile little kid. And he’s terrified.

You gulp, your tongue catching on the back of your throat. “Yeah…yeah, it’ll be ok. I’ll be right here.”

Finally he relaxes, slumping back into the bed, and the nurse takes the opportunity to give him the shot. You feel his flinch in a wave of pressure radiating up your wrist and forearm, but his gaze doesn’t move. He keeps looking into your eyes until his own begin to droop and he sinks even further into the mattress.

Before his hand drops from your wrist you catch it, the skin under your bandages protesting at the sudden flexion. You choose to ignore it, settling down on the floor next to his bed as your own eyes begin to follow his. Even as your head falls into your knees and your body finally gives itself completely over to darkness, you refuse to let go.

-

You’re woken by something warm trailing along your hairline. You jerk, smacking the back of your head into the wall with an irritated grunt. König’s arm hovers in the air just in front of your face, and you turn to see him pressed to the edge of the bed, looking a little guilty. “Sorry,” he murmurs.

You should be, startling me like that, you want to say. But when you open your mouth, what comes out instead is “No, it’s ok, I just…I wasn’t expecting it.”

König gulps audibly, and the cot creaks as he pulls his hand back, shifting his body even closer. “You stayed.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Never,” he hisses, and you find yourself staring into his eyes again, only this time they’ve taken on their old torrential intensity.

Now it’s yours that are as wide as a child’s. You gulp, feeling the muscles of your jaw flex and unflex. “Ok,” you finally murmur. “I’ll stay.”

-

And you do. For two more nights König stays in the infirmary, weathering the steady rounds of nurses and bandage changes with a steely resolve even as his fists flex and twist into the sheets. You stay with him all the while, but he doesn’t reach for your hand again, not after noticing your own bandages.

The second night you sleep in the cot next to him at his insistence. You’re hurt too, he reasons. You need a real bed to rest in. He scoots himself to the back edge to give you room, and when you wake up he hasn’t moved.

After the third night you wake to his hand resting on your arm. It’s a small gesture. Innocent even. Yet still you find yourself contemplating it, barely saying a word as the nurses come to remove his bandages. You grind your jaw as you take in the puckered line of stitches running from his knee up to the edge of his boxers, looking away politely as the nurses help him into a pair of sweatpants.

You don’t even say anything when you let him lean on your shoulders, using your own aching body as a sacrificial lamb to transport him back to his barrack. Once you get him into bed you hover in the doorway, taking in the shadows of the walls, twisting your wrists back and forth, a habit you picked up to alleviate the pain from flexing your fingers. They’re in even thinner bandages now, but you’d rather be safe than sorry.

Maybe there’s nothing to say. You found him in a vulnerable situation where he needed a lifeline. It could have been anyone, he was barely lucid. Now he surely wanted to forget all of that vulnerability and go back to a time where he hadn’t needed help from anyone. Not even you. Especially not you. He was a soldier, after all. Fondness wasn’t in the job description.

Best not to say anything then. Just…leave and get this over with. Just like that. Yeah…easy. Really easy.

Your move to shut the door behind you is halted by him calling your name. Your real name. You didn’t even know he knew your name.

He calls it again, quieter this time, and you lean back in the door, eyes drifting across his room to him. He’s still sitting on the bed where you left him, only now he’s hunched over to rest a forearm on his good thigh. “Come back here,” he breathes, voice cracking, and it hits you right in your stomach, settling there like a wounded bird, flapping and screeching at you to stay away, you’re already in too deep, you don’t know how this will end.

But it’s too late. You’re walking forward, the door swinging shut behind you. Locked. You’re already reaching out for the hand he offers, only for him to reach past the bandages and grab your wrist. You pause at that, staring into the hazy depths of his eyes, pupils bursting for you again. Slowly, inch by excruciating inch, he straightens again, face coming closer to yours as another hand snakes around your neck to help guide you down to straddle his good thigh, moving your forearms to rest on each of his shoulders.

The bird in your stomach has moved to your chest, and you’re positive he can feel your heavy breathing even through his mask with how close you are. His eyes look down to your lips, and you wonder if he is going to lift his hood up and kiss you, your cheeks flushing in anticipation as he leans forward.

Only instead he rests his forehead against yours, eyes drifting closed. You feel your arms drift upwards with his inhale. “Stay with me,” he exhales. “One more night.”

You nod against his forehead, wrapping your arms around his neck and finally letting your own eyes close. Your breathing is slowed down now, and you find yourself enjoying the warmth you feel radiating from everywhere you touch him. One of his hands has spread against your thigh, while the other still rests along your neck, thumb tracing up and down your jaw. You know you could fall asleep just like this.

König, however, has other ideas. As you slump even further to him, both of his hands drift to your hips. You notice the movement, sighing at the pleasant sensation of his hands running over your body. You don’t notice the intention until he takes a deep breath, and in one smooth motion he has stood and twisted to lay you down on the bed, climbing on top of you. You gasp, feeling your heart stutter all over again, blood rushing to your core as you feel the fabric of his hood rub up your neck. His nose, you think.

Fuck, you want him. You want him just like this and any other way he’s willing to give, but you can’t, you shouldn’t, and you know you have to at least try to protest. You bite back a whimper as a hand drags up your inner thigh. “König, your leg.”

“I don’t care,” he growls. “Say my name again.”

You groan in protest and he pulls back, tilting your face up to his. “Is this not what you want?” He feels the way your jaw flexes and pulls away.

“Wait. No. I want this. You. I want you. Just…please be careful.”

He hears the last part, but he’s past giving a damn about his own body now. His hand is already undoing your belt and he’s leaning back to ease your pants and underwear off your legs, lazily tossing them to the side.

A harsh word escapes his throat as he looks down at you, but you don’t catch it through the blood rushing in your ears. “Close your eyes,” he orders, and unthinkingly you do, another growling swear reaching your ears. “So obedient for me.”

You hear the shuffling of fabric and feel a hand wrap around one of your knees, lifting it up for a warm tongue to swirl along the inside of it, for wet lips to place a sloppy kiss just above where his tongue had just been. His lips slide up again, and this time he sucks on the skin just slightly, and you feel your leg tremble as a tiny moan escapes you, but he’s already moving further up and this time sucking harder, and then further and harder and further and harder until he’s against your inner thigh and his teeth are sinking into you and you yelp his name, whining in frustration as he pulls back.

“No,” you pant, “don’t stop. Please.”

You feel a chuckle rumble in his throat and his nose presses into the bottom of your slit. You jolt, squeezing your eyes tighter as it slides up through you before pressing into your sensitive spot, and he inhales.

“Fuck,” you cry, tangling your hands in the sheets only to choke on a sound of pain.

König pulls back immediately and you shake your head at him, a sob on the edge of your quivering lips.

“Easy. Watch your hands.”

You grit your teeth and nod, relaxing your fingers and turning your palms up.

“Good,” he purrs as his hands hook under the backs of your knees, easily throwing your legs over his shoulders. As he settles back down you feel the muscles in his back flexing against your calves and moan before his mouth is even on you.

He hums contentedly at the sound, running his tongue along the length of you before swirling it around your clit. His lips pucker against it and he sucks, pulling away with a soft pop that has you clenching your legs around him. He moves in again, lazily altering between sucking and tracing his tongue just around your bud, feeling the way you flex against him, hearing the way you react to each movement, and committing all of it to memory before shifting his head so he can dip his tongue inside you. He groans at the taste, the vibration of it radiating up under your ribs and down through your legs. You’re quiet now, feeling how close you are settling heavy over you, drowning you in deliciously sweet honey.

He feels the shaking of your legs around him and returns to your clit as he slowly works a finger into you, curling it upwards to stroke at the spongy part inside of you.

You break quietly, choking on his name as the pleasure strangles your muscles and sets them briefly aflame, fresh sensations flowing through you as he continues to touch you just so, only pulling away when you sink into the mattress and your legs slip from his shoulders.

You hear the bed frame creak as he pulls back, running a hand up your thigh before the shifting sound of fabric hits your ears, and you feel the mattress sink down in different places as he shifts.

“Open your eyes.”

You do as he says, your disappointment at seeing the sniper’s hood obscuring his face immediately squashed by the realization that the rest of him is completely naked.

You’re seeing him for the first time.

Fucking hell, what a sight.

Your eyes rest on the delicious curve of his cock first, marveling at the pink tip and the thick veins running along it. You had felt his size on plenty of occasions, but seeing it for the first time is a new beast entirely, one that has you biting your lip and wiggling your hips like a teenager all over again.

But soon your eyes are taken in by the strong curves of muscle outlining his hips, and your eyes are traveling upwards to the delicious bulges of his chest, your own heaving at the sight. You find yourself wanting to trace the outline of each hill and valley of muscle that flows along his shoulders, down his arms, to the hands, wanting to run your tongue along the veins like raised rivers spreading down his forearm and across the back of each hand.

You wonder what his back looks like. You wonder how the muscles of his neck shift as he moves, what the outline of his jaw is shaped like. You are greedy and want to take everything he has, and at the same time you are desperate for anything he can give you. You’re a peasant kneeling at the feet of your king, ready to lick the crumbs he throws you off the floor.

His head tilts playfully, breaking you out of your reverie. “You like what you see?”

Your chuckle catches in your chest, only a tiny puff of air leaving your mouth. “Yes.”

His eyes scrunch a little, and you imagine he is grinning as he leans over, balancing himself above you. He moves back a bit, hand adjusting your hips as he positions himself. He looks back up at you, and you nod eagerly, your hands reaching up to grab his shoulders. He clicks his tongue, glancing at them, and with a groan you put your hands above your head. He moves one of his own to grasp your wrists, keeping them pinned as he sinks onto his forearms.

You feel the head of his cock running up and down your folds, and instinctively bend your back to give him a better angle, earning an approving hum that makes you even wetter. But as he braces himself and begins to drive into you, a strangled sound smashes through his gritted teeth.

Oh no. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer, only pressing his face into your neck, inhaling heavily as you feel his entire body stiffening against you. “It’s…it’s fine,” he hisses, his hand strangling your wrists. “Just …” he heaves another breath. “Ah... Ich… I…need a…moment.”

You sigh, wiggling a hand out of his grip to push his chin up. He lets you move his face back, and even in the dim light you can see the way the skin around his eyes has gone even paler than normal. “Get off,” you murmur.

He slumps, twisting his face out of your grip and keeping his eyes on the wall. He stays like that for a second before giving a swift nod and pulling out, maneuvering backwards on the bed and moving to get off.

“Wait!” you burst out, and he freezes. “That’s not what I meant.”

After another moment he looks at you in bewilderment, so you sit up and shift to the side, patting the bed next to you. Awkwardly, he crawls to it, nearly dragging his bad leg, stiffening again when you place your wrists on his shoulders. “Let me?”

After a second of staring into your eyes, he nods again, allowing you to push on him, laying him on his back before you straddle him and finally take your shirt off. You see his chest rise with a shuddering breath and before you really think about it you’re leaning down to lick a stripe up his sternum. Seeing his pecs jerk upwards on either side of your tongue emboldens you and you shift your head, running your tongue back down to circle over one of his nipples before you suck.

Immediately the muscles flex again and he pushes up into you. “Like that,” he snarls, loud and vibrating through your skull. You’re aching down there again, but you’re not done yet. You release him with a squelch, watching the patch of saliva glisten before moving to give the other nipple the same treatment, your heart leaping at the sounds falling from his mouth as he quivers under you.

“König,” you croon. “Touch me.”

He whimpers as you flick your tongue over the sensitive bud. “Where?”

“Anywhere. Grab my hair, squeeze my tits, just put your hands on me.”

You groan as he obeys, long fingers tangling tightly in your hair as his other hand spreads along your ribcage, thumb sliding over your breast. You sigh, leaning down to bite into his pec, moaning as his grip on you tightens. You kiss the mark left by your teeth before leaning back. His hands move to cup both of your breasts as you raise yourself up and sink down onto his cock. You’re too excited and you go too fast, and a sharp pinch of pain seizes at your entrance. You gasp, instinctively leaning forward to brace yourself on your palms, but his hands move to your waist, catching you before you hurt them any further.

“I have you,” he whispers, voice scratchy, and despite the pain you clench at the sound of what you do to him. He chokes on his next words, a groan coming out instead. “Do you need to get off?”

“No!” You whisper-yell back so quickly that he laughs, and despite everything you laugh with him. He runs his hands up and down your sides, feeling you start to relax a little, but not enough yet. “Tell me what you need,” he murmurs.

“It’s fine.” You close your eyes and try to focus on your breathing. “Just need…a moment.”

“Hypocrite.”

You shoot your eyes open to glare at him, only to see his chest shake with another chuckle at your scrunched-up angry face. “Your leg is sliced open, it’s not the same,” you scoff.

His eyes glimmer with the start of a witty retort before one of his hands freezes over your bottom rib, drawing his lovely gaze away from yours. His thumb is circling around a tiny hairline of a scar, bone-white and soft. You’ve already forgotten how you got it.

“This one,” he murmurs. “It is new.”

“How…how did you notice?”

“It wasn’t there last time.” His tone was quiet and matter-of-fact, like the answer was obvious, and it takes you back to every time his hands ran over you as you drifted into sleep. How long did he stay there after you fell asleep? How long did it take him to commit you to memory so well that a patch of skin even you had forgotten was instantly recognized as something new?

Your body has always been a means to an end, a vehicle carrying you rather than a full part of you. Batter it, toss it around, whatever you need to do to get the job done. And when your body protests, you treat it like any other tool you can beat into submission. Like your first battered old car that revved to life with a well-placed kick.

But now all you can think of is his hands running over you with thorough determination, acknowledging each new mark with a gentle reverence that was more than you deserved. Getting to know you in the only way he knew how.

For the first time in a long time, you’re reminded to see this body as something more than a bruised vessel you’re obligated to carry around. He reminds you to see it as something more.

Fuck, you think you might love him.

“König?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

His head tilts a little, his hand still running along your rib, and your cheeks flush.

Before he can reply, you gulp a little. “I…I think I’m ready.”

He hums again, his hands moving back to rest on your hips. You stay still for another moment, looking into his eyes. You don’t think you can memorize his body, not like he has yours. But you have memorized his eyes, have burned them into your mind so clearly you saw them even as you were trapped on that damned mountain. Thinking about him.

And now you think he might've been thinking about you, too.

You feel him twitch inside of you, pulling you out of your thoughts. Taking a deep breath, you raise yourself up slowly, feeling his hands tighten and take some of your weight, following your lead as you sink into him again, this time with a sigh that echoes his own. Slowly, hesitantly, you raise yourself up and down, feeling how easily he stretches you, how easily he could break you.

But he never has. The only pain you’ve gotten from him was caused by your own impatience. As you keep going, finding an angle that has him dragging across your most sensitive parts and making you even wetter, you become confident that there’s no chance of pain, allowing yourself to speed up.

His hands are steady as ever, guiding you up and down, but beneath you his shoulders and chest begin to squirm and heave. His eyes wander all around, and his breaths are scattered and staccato.

And his sounds. You’d never known a man to be so loud, and now you know you’ve been missing out all these years. Every grunt, every groan, every moan and whimper goes straight through your core, winding you up faster and faster. As you get closer his sounds shift, and you realize he’s started to stutter out words.

His eyes are hazy and unfocused but you can still tell they’re trained on you, and you urge your body to calm down for just a minute longer, just long enough to hear what he’s saying.

You can’t make out any of the words, but his hands are even tighter on you now and the way his voice shifts from growling to whimpering settles into a melodic language that has you crying out for him anyway.

Beneath your trembling body, he keeps going. “Never..told you …du bist wie ein Traum,” another whimper leaves his lips. “Ich kann nicht glauben, dass du wirklich hier bist.” He gasps as you clench tighter around him. “Du bist…du…Du bist viel zu gut für mich…Dein Lächeln und …und…” His eyes are watering and you slow down only for his hands to dig into you, urging you to speed up again. “Ich weiß nicht wie ich dich loslassen soll aber du verdienst so viel mehr als …”

His mind is lapsing again, his determined confession faltering into a fervent prayer sent to the only god he’s ever believed in, to you - moving over him and taking everything he is giving you, making him wish he had more, so much more than the desert-dry heart of a killer whose hands can only ever pull things apart. His thumb is over the scar on your rib again and his blurry vision is taking in the white of the bandage wrapped around your hands and it has him wishing his own hands could build something instead of destroy it just so he could put you back together again. You’re coming apart around him, crying his name, and he’s thinking of flinging his body in front of you, taking every bullet and blade meant for you, because his body is all he has to give and he knows how to sacrifice it, he knows he’ll gladly lay it at your altar, bloody and broken, if it could only mean making sure he’d never be surprised by a new scar again. Maybe you’d even remember him a little when he was gone.

He’s trying to tell you all of that, the messy syllables punching through his throat. “Niemals, niemals, nie,…” but before he can finish he’s failing already, falling apart under you and screaming your name and emptying everything he has into you.

It’s not enough.

You’re laying on top of him now and he tries his best to be gentle but his entire body is shaking as he rolls you off and staggers to his bathroom, slamming the door behind him and sinking against it.

He shatters in a whole-body-wracking sob.

You’re never going to look at him again.

He tucks his legs in, squeezing his knees into his chest, squeezing even harder as a burn radiates out from the stitches, trying to rein in his ragged breathing in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, he can save this and cover up the fact that he’s crying.

It was just meant to be casual sex. He wasn’t supposed to start caring. That’s not what you wanted. It’s not fair to you. It’s not your fault he let himself get emotional. And now he’s ruined the only thing you two did have, he wanted to make you feel better and now he’s made you so uncomfortable and…and…

He slams his forehead into his knees and sobs again.

He’s pathetic. Pathetic to think this could be something more. Pathetic to think he could have something more.

Everything hurts.

That’s what he signed up for, isn’t it?

That’s what he deserves.

A knock on the door has his head jerking back up, hands clutching his knees hard enough the knuckles just might pop through the skin. “Go away!”

“No.” Your tone is flat as he hears a thunk against the other side of the door, imagining you leaning against it and sliding down, mirroring him perfectly. “Not until you talk to me.”

“No.”

You sigh. “That's how it’s gonna be? Well, in that case, to quote a man I…admire very much, I can make you talk.” You drop your voice, trying and failing to mimic his battle growl.

He snorts despite himself.

You take that as a cue to continue. “For one, I’m not leaving until you do. You’ll be stuck with my annoying-ass voice forever.”

“I like your voice.”

“Oh…umm…thank you. In that case I’ll…I’ll steal all your knives and I’ll draw a kangaroo on your door and-”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he growls.

“Guess you’ll never know if you keep that door closed. And that’s not all, I’ll…I’ll steal those cheap chocolates we get every supply drop. Don’t deny it, I know everyone joked it was Ghost but I saw you take them all. You love those.” You smile, laughing a little. “On the other hand, I’ll fly to Austria right now if that’s what it takes to get some chocolate you’d really like. I’d even get you some of those waffle things you were telling Soap about that one time I caught you both raiding the snack cabinets. Well, I’d probably eat some of those. But I promise to save most of them for you. Just…please talk to me. I’ll…I’ll…” you’re cut off by your own squeak as the door opens and you fall backwards.

His hands are already there to catch you, and once you sit back up he stays there, half-crouched and awkward, eyes anywhere but your own.

Slowly, you open your arms, watching his head turn back to you.

In an instant he’s lunged into you, burrowing his face into your neck with an awkward grunt as he stretches his bad leg out to the side. You try to change to a comfier position for him but the man is like a brick wall.

It’s nice.

So you let yourself stay there, wrapping around him as he wraps around you on the hard floor. It’s a softness unknown to you both, two soldiers carved razor-sharp from solid steel. But as you let yourself sink into him, you find yourself liking the strange tranquility of this moment, the way two bodies made for war can still drape over each other and feel peace instead. Against all better judgement, against any scrap of common sense you have left, you find yourself yearning for a few less battles if it can mean more of this. You let your eyes close, imagining it for just a little while.

After a while, he pulls back, moving to lean against the wall and pulling you so you can balance on his uninjured thigh. You let your head loll onto his shoulder, face turned into the hood. His chin rests on your temple.

“Are you cold?”

He grunts noncommittally, eyes half-closed. “Are you?”

“Nooo,” you mumble, burrowing into his neck. He shifts, maneuvering you off his lap, only to grunt when he tries to push on his leg.

“I got it.” You push yourself up, moving to the bed to retrieve one of the blankets there, carefully wrapping it around both of your torsos when you settle back onto his lap. Your legs stick out, but you don’t really care.

After a while you feel his heartbeat begin to pick up again and adjust yourself to look up at him. His eyes drift to you before he sighs. “Do you…still want me to talk?”

You nod.

“Alright then. I will talk. I do not think it is what you want to hear.”

You bite your lip and try to keep your breathing steady as he continues.

“Back in the med bay. No. Before that.” He shakes his head emphatically. “When we were assigned to two different groups…No…Scheiße, I…”

You run a shaky hand up and down his chest. “It’s okay. Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

His fingers dig into you for a fraction of a second, so quick you think you might have imagined it before his entire body is deflating, his head settling back against the wall. “They ambushed us. You weren’t there but…they hit us on patrol, hit us and ran before we could counter. I did not even see who hit me, I just look up one moment and down the next and the snow is all red and…” His voice drops to barely a whisper “Das war meines.” He trails off completely, a finger tracing circles on your shoulder. “I've been wounded before. I've accepted death before. This time...before I...while I was…” he exhales another irritated sigh. “I was on the ground and…wie sag ich das…ich hab versucht etwas zu tun, mich zu bewegen aber alles was ich tun konnte...I was thinking of you.”

He freezes, turning his head away and dropping his hands from you. But instead of moving away, you kiss a patch of skin just outside the hood, watching the muscle under it jump. “Is that all you want to tell me?”

He shakes his head.

“Do you think you can keep going?”

His head turns back to you briefly before he tilts it up to stare at the ceiling. “When I was in the med bay. Well, I…it went like this. I wake up and you are there and I think, König this is it, now you are finally dead. And then I feel the pain and I see the nurse and you were moving away and I couldn't…du warst da und dann warst du fast nicht mehr da und ich konnte nicht atmen. Ich…” he shakes his head back and forth, back and forth. “Ich konnte nicht ohne dich. Ich…needed you to stay.” His head jerks down again, eyes boring into yours with all the intensity of a tornado, arms wrapping around you once again. “I need you to stay.”

You nod, holding him tight, the weight of the words unspoken tangling in your chest and constricting your tongue. Stay. With me. He won't ask for more than tonight, not when neither of you can even risk asking for a tomorrow. Stay with me. For as long as you have. A day, maybe. A month. Maybe you'll get out of this mess someday and get years.

Stay with me for a lifetime. Whatever lifetime we get.

You nod, whispering a promise into his skin. Always. Your fingers drift down along his leg, tracing just outside the stitches, your eyes following the line of gooseprickles that rise in their wake.

You feel more than you hear your name being whispered into your hair, and as you look up fingers wrap around your wrist, guiding it up over his hip, his ribs, his chest. Sliding around the edge of the hood, pushing it up, up, up. Until the fabric slides off. You gaze in awe, watching his jaw flex as his lips part to form a word whose sound hides in the back of his throat. Always. You look back into his eyes before surging forward, hugging him tight, tight enough to strangle, you think, but he’s already wrapping himself around you with equal fervor.

“You know,” you murmur, breath ruffling his hair, “if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

He huffs a laugh, the air catching in his lungs with a choking sound. His grip tightens.

-

When you wake you find you’ve been moved to the bed, but his face is still buried in your neck, unmoving despite the soft light filtering in your window. You smile a little, watching the early-morning sky, perfectly clear and pale blue.

It matches his eyes.

---

German Translations

du bist wie ein Traum: You are like a dream

Ich kann nicht glauben, dass du wirklich hier bist: I can’t believe you are here

Du bist viel zu gut für mich: You are too good to me

Dein Lächeln und…: You smile and…

Ich weiß nicht wie ich dich loslassen soll aber du verdienst so viel mehr als: I don't know how I am supposed to let go of you (eventually) but you (clearly) deserve so much more than me

Niemals, niemals, nie: never again, never again, never

Scheiße: shit

Das war meines: it was mine

wie sag ich das: how do I say this

ich hab versucht etwas zu tun, mich zu bewegen aber alles was ich tun konnte: I tried doing something, moving, but all I could do

du warst da und dann warst du fast nicht mehr da und ich konnte nicht atmen. Ich…: you were there and then you nearly weren’t there and I could not breathe. I…

Ich konnte nicht ohne dich. Ich…: I couldn’t without you. I…

[anemptypuddingcup]

Sticky and Messy.

Luffy x Female Reader.

Period smut short.

Luffy pushes your legs up a bit, shoving his cock further into your pussy and making you moan out shakily. His cock kissed your cervix and stretched your pussy out to fit the shape of his cock.

He wanted to make sure you felt every inch of his dick.

Your arms wrapped around his body and your nails marked his back a bit deep while he moans out. He presses his lips against yours lovingly, sloppily kissing you while he fucks your pussy. Pulling back, a string of saliva tears from your lips and his while he groans out heavily.

The bed rocked with every thrust he gave you, the sound of his hips slapping stickily against yours made you blush and mewl out in arousal. Blood coated your pussy and his lower abdomen as he grinds his cock deep into your pussy, making you gasp out. You wrap your legs tight around his hips while your walls tightens around his thick length.

“S’sticky an’ bloody~ Ya pussy feels s’good like this~” Luffy groans out, his eyes half-lidded and looking deep into yours. His hands gripped the sheet tight beneath you and he scoots his body up more against yours before huffing out suddenly. You could feel his cock twitch inside of your cunt and you huff out shakily.

“Close!~ M-M’close!” Luffy huffs out, biting his bottom lip a bit tight while he wraps his arms around you. You whine out and let out a heavy gasp, your nails clawing at his back while you kept your legs tight around his hips. Your toes curled and spreads a bit from the wonderful pleasure, his cock hitting all of those good spots and making you huff out with delight.

“Fuck! F-Faster Luffy! Faster!” You moan out, begging for him to just fuck you faster and harder. Luffy smiles and groans out heavily, sliding his hot tongue along the skin of your neck. “Hah~ Don’ worry~ Was jus’ bouta go fast f’ya dumplin’~” He huffs out, shoving you down deeper into the mattress and wrapping his rubbery arms tighter around your body.

You bite your bottom lip and moan out loudly, your breasts bouncing a bit from the recoil of Luffy’s thrusts. “Fuck Luffy!~ F-Feels so good!~” You gasp out to him, a soft whine spilling after as your body begins to tremble. “Fuck baby!~ Ya pussy s’fucking good~ M-M’gonna cum~” Luffy moans out, pressing sloppy smooches to your cheek while a shaky exhale followed after.

“Yes Luffy~ C-Cum inside of me~ F-Fill me up please~” You whine out, begging him to cum inside of your needy and breedable pussy. Luffy growls in responds, trailing his tongue along the softness of your skin while his thrusts grew more irregular and sloppy in rhythm. “Ya wan’ me t’fill ya up? M’lil dumplin’ wanna be filled up?~” He teases, gripping your chin softly to look at him. “Y-Yeah Luffyyy~ P-Please~” You whine out shakily, your hands growing shaky against his back as your body and pussy grew more sensitive and vulnerable.

Luffy snickers before humming out, biting his lip while thrusts his hips a bit deeper into your blood-soaked cunt. You moan out shakily and you threw your head back as you struggled to hold on your orgasm, your mouth hanging open while you shut your eyes. “L-Luffy! O-Ooh!~ Oh god I-I’m cumming!~” You gasp out, your lips quivering as your hands begin to slip from his back.

“Cmon baby~ I wan’cha t’cum~ Cum on my fuckin’ dick dumplin~” He groans out, his cock twitching deep within’ your insides and making you arch your back. “Oh! Oh Luffy!~ F-Fuck!~” You gasp out and kept him close, your pussy tightening around his length before you finally release on his cock. Your cream on his cock, your essence coating his length while he hissed out at how tight you’ve gotten.

“Hah fuck~ Fuck baby gal! Imma cum in this tight fuckin’ pussy s’hard~” Luffy groans out, continuously pressing sloppy sticky smooches against your body. “Please d-do~ Fill up your little dumplin’ Luffyy~” You whisper shakily. Luffy’s eyes widens at your words and he smiles before unwrapping his arms from your body.

His rough hands grips your thighs and pushes them up far against your chest, shoving himself far inside of your pussy. You cry and gasp out shakily, his cock practically knocking against your womb and giving you a loving bulge in your lower abdomen. You gasp out as he fucks your pussy with aggression, a few groans and grunts leaving past his lips while he shut his eyes tight.

You close your eyes and moan out, taking his cock deep inside of your sensitive pussy like his good girl. A few groans leaves him and he huffs out before opening his mouth. You could feel that he was struggling to reach his orgasm, desperately chasing after his high.

“Fuck baby!~ Hah~ I-I’m gonna cum~” He whines out shakily, a bit of slobber spilling past his lips as he felt himself growing close. You gripped his shoulders tight and moan out shakily, growing a bit overstimulated by his cock. “Cum baby!~ Cum inside of my pussy p-please!~” You exhaled sharply, your face twisting up from the pleasure.

Luffy nods and fucks you a bit harder, the bed rocking loudly and your moans growing louder and needy. “Fuck! Fuck yeah, I feel it comin’!” He groans out, his lips quivering as he hissed out in pleasure. You smiled softly to him and give him and give him a smooch. Luffy gives you a deep and needy kiss before trailing his lips down to your shoulder.

He bites your shoulder and moans out, finally close to his orgasm that he’s been chasing desperately after. He groans out heavily and his thrusts grew more fast and irregular as he shuts his eyes tight. You hugged your rubber boyfriend, moaning out as he fucks you forcefully yet wonderfully.

“Mmgh!~ Mmmmh!~” He groans out shakily as his eyes rolls up, wrapping his arms tight around you and pulling you close. You wrap your arms tight around him, holding on to him while a shaky moan leaves past your lips. He releases with a loud groan, his cum coating your walls and going deep inside of your sticky pussy with shaky hips. He groans out shakily and his body trembles against yours, his hips slowly fucking the cum into you to make sure most of it was inside.

“Mmmgh~ F-Fuck baby~” Luffy mewls out, his breaths heavy as he lies his head down against your breasts. You were on the verge of falling asleep as you rub your hand along his back.

“Oh Luffy~” You mewl out sleepily, pressing a smooch to his temple while he looks up at you with half-lidded eyes. “Mmh~ Dumplin~” He hums out, a little yawn leaving his lips.

“Thank you baby…I needed that so much…” You sigh out sleepily, your hand reaching up to his raven curls. Your hand play in his hair slowly and you slowly began to hear Luffy’s snores fill your ears. You’re giggled and relaxed against him, his cock still warm and pulsating inside of your cunt.

“Thank you Luffy…”

[ohno-the-sun]

Continuation of the Mad Scientist AU Moon ending

What happens after Y/N returns?

Content Warnings: Horror, animal death, death, blood, body horror

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

It was only a month later when I died too. 

When I first left, it felt slow– difficult. Like a bandaid slowly being pulled from loose skin it stung with afterburns. 

I hated it.

More than anything I wanted to stay with Sun, to help him. 

But with every experiment run, with every test and data point analyzed I could only think of him. 

He was strange yes. It was still unnerving how he stuck through the flesh of Sun’s eye, but he was alive. He breathed, he talked, he cared in his own strange way. 

The way he would prance around the lab, curious about every nook and cranny of the place, getting into things he wasn’t supposed to. 

A soft fond ache built in my chest at the memory of him getting into the fertilizer. It took weeks before Sun and I had the lab clean again. 

As I ran my hands through the rubbery flesh of the vines wrapping around my best friend’s head, I realized I couldn’t do this anymore. 

Sun was getting sicker.

As much as he tried to hide it, it was obvious. I could see the way his eyes grew darker and darker with every passing day, how the vines that wrapped around his head became thicker and heavier. 

His movements were slow– deliberate– like one wrong move and he could shatter completely. His starchy clothes hung off of him looser than before. He covered nearly everything now— except his face, but even that was marred with scars from his creation. His skin was taught and thin, I could practically trace the bone structure underneath. 

The most unnerving change though– was in his mind.

Sun was always a bit of a nerd. He had a proclivity for perfection and wasn’t afraid of quickly pointing out inconsistencies. Others found it rude and off-putting but I knew it was his way of showing he cared. He noticed you, he cared about what was right and making sure you knew what that was. He listened with such apt attention it felt like every word from your mouth was inscribed with careful precision. He was so good at contradiction because he cared so much about you, about your thoughts and feelings. 

His wit was sometimes harsh, but it was quick and pointed. 

…

He barely talked now.

Even amid an experiment, on the cusp of maybe finding a cure– he would drift. 

Staring for long periods, no input or interaction would break him out. 

Even when he was present, there was a slow deliberation that wasn’t there before.

He questioned himself– doubted himself. He spoke and acted with such unnatural trepidation, like even he wasn’t sure what he was saying.

And all I could do was stand by and watch as my best friend slowly died.

…

Maybe it was selfish.

Maybe it was wrong. 

But I couldn’t do it anymore.

…

So I left.

…

I don’t know what compelled me to return that day. 

I reasoned there were still things in the lab I needed to pick up, but I knew I was going to have to confront him. I knew I was going to have to see him again. 

I don’t know what I expected when I opened that door. 

But it certainly wasn’t that.

Parasitic vines crept through the whole lab, infecting every achingly familiar corner. 

The place was a complete mess, equipment tipped and shattered, old projects strewn about, and I almost stepped on a dead rodent, its entire body wrapped tightly with vines.  

And then he stepped out. 

The body degraded down only to its bare bones. Foliage and leaves stuck out of every orifice. Vines were wrapped tightly around him, face now just a hollow skull. The bud that had become a sort of eye for him bloomed into an unnerving pattern of petals and leaves.

Though– for some reason– it wasn’t his appearance that took me off guard.

He was still the same Moon that I had left, he seemed almost excited to see me again. Despite the barely functional state of his host he happily stumbled his way to me, leaning down to receive those head scratches he loved so much.

But still that churning in my gut didn’t subside.

I knew Sun was going to die if I left.

Even if I didn’t want to verbalize it before, I still knew deep down. 

No, it wasn’t even Sun’s death that put me off so deeply. 

…

It was the fact that it had only been three days.

I left on the 24th, leaving with only a small box of my old supplies, I knew I was going to need a second trip. I put it off– but I knew it had to happen. 

In only three days Moon had entirely taken over. 

In only three days Sun was dead, with little less than a skeleton left. 

In only three days Moon had entirely outgrown the body, spreading to all corners of the lab with long searching vines. 

…

I did my best to ignore it. 

…

I stayed with Moon.

I knew I couldn’t bring him back to my house so I took care of him in the lab. 

I did my best– I really did. 

I brought him snacks and treats we used to share together, like small salt taffies and caramels. Even if he couldn’t chew them properly anymore he still stuck out small twisting vines to pull apart the sticky things. He reacted with that same sort of fascinated delight. 

But still. 

There was something off. 

The way he would continue to stare even after I gave him all the snacks I had. The way he would push for more until I left. 

When I returned with more food he would tear them apart more forcefully each time. His vines no longer searching, but stabbing through the air until they found their mark. 

The vines continued to grow in the lab, covering more and more of the floor with every passing day. 

The body was getting used less. Before, Moon would attempt to shamble with the corpse and interact with me in the same way as before; begging for pets, playing with my clothes or hair, and even cuddling on my lap. However, more and more often the skeleton would just lie there, only barely moving its head or gesturing with a hand.

I quickly realized Moon wasn’t just in the eye anymore. He had “eyes” everywhere. More and more buds popped up and bloomed into unnerving pits that would track your every move. 

It got to the point where the room itself felt alive. Vines twisting and pulsating over the floor and walls. It got to the point where I could barely walk in the room without accidentally stepping on a vine. 

Every morning I came back to something different– something new– something unnerving. 

Moon was changing I could tell. I wasn’t sure if he was the same small creature I had taken care of before.

He was no longer searching and curious like before. I tried to bring him those things he liked, picture books of small cartoony creatures and small plush toys. I even brought my old radio to play music and dance like we used to. The vines at first writhed with the beat, and even the corpse moved its head slightly in a sort of head bop, but those movements became less ordered and more spastic, to the point I couldn’t tell if he was even listening. With every passing day, he seemed to care less and less about those simple joys. 

Instead, time was spent watching those vines extend further. They got into the cabinets and tipped over old beakers. It was like they were looking for something. 

…

It was starting to get harder to leave the lab.

Vines slowly crept up the door until they were tightly wrapped around the handle. I pushed and pulled but it refused to budge. I resorted to leaving through the window. I was lucky the lab was on the first floor. 

I don’t know why I kept coming back. The growing apprehension in the back of my mind screamed to get out. I could feel every base animal impulse squirm and scream in fear at what I was witnessing. I think I knew exactly what was happening– I didn’t study him for over a year for nothing after all.

But still– I kept coming back. 

Maybe it was guilt, maybe it was a sense of duty, maybe I still held out hope for him, for the creature I had come to see as a son. 

…

Two weeks later he didn’t allow me to leave anymore.

It had been a good day. He was walking around again, he even toyed with the small caterpillar toy I had brought. As I went to sit on the vine-covered floor he rested with me, the vines warm and pulsating with that strange purr he did. I had foolishly thought he was getting better, that he was still the same Moon as before. 

I fell asleep.

When I woke up the room was pitch black. I realized he had covered the windows entirely with thick leathery vines.

I was trapped.

When I tried to push and pull at them he would snatch me up, move vines around the floor to trip me or grab a hand with one that was hanging. 

The worst part about it was that he was still gentle about it.

He brought me food, vines shifting around the windows to reveal a scuffed takeout container. It looked like it had been snatched from a student, half-eaten, and a fork still rattling around inside. 

When I went to sleep on the floor the vines would shift underneath to accommodate me, creating a surprisingly comfortable bed to rest on. 

I hated it. 

I wanted it to be easy. To hate this creature I helped make. 

But as I wept in the now overrun lab, I couldn’t help but lean into the small vine gently touching my cheek. 

The room was stuffy and humid. Like a greenhouse Moon covered every opening and crevice, and with the soft heat emitted from the vines– I couldn't cool down. 

The clothes I arrived with were completely sweated through. They stuck to me and chaffed with an uncomfortable texture. 

What I wouldn’t give for a decent shower. 

Still, Moon continued just to bring food. Even with the occasional water bottle, I was starting to feel that dry scratchiness at the back of my throat. I was getting sick.

I wasn’t sure he was aware of all the different things a human needed to survive. I tried to talk with him, to get him to understand I needed to leave, but his numerous buds just stared back.  

It was when the animals started appearing that I knew I needed to do something. 

It again, started out small. Squirrels from outside, small mice and rats caught from other nearby labs– but of course it escalated. 

Small dogs and cats that he used to be so fond of turned up dead on the floor. All covered in those same tightly woven vines. Their small bodies quickly turned into hollow corpses, frighteningly similar to Sun. 

At this point, his corpse only sat in the corner, unmoving except for the subtle shifting of vines underneath him. 

…

I had a plan. Cabinets on the top shelf of the bench stood untouched by vines– despite them completely covering every other surface.

It was where we stored our concentrated weed killer. 

I had to do it. I knew I had to. 

Despite the sharp ache in my chest at the thought- I knew that this was the only way. 

Before when Sun was alive, the stuff was far too toxic to be used to cure him but now…

…

On the 29th day, I found a shoe amongst the tangled vines.

It wasn’t mine.

…

There were buds everywhere now. The dark pits held in the flytrap-like eyes followed my every move. 

I had to be quick. I had seen myself how quickly those vines could dart through the air, and with how covered the room had become, there was no way to avoid them. However, they did close periodically. I wondered vaguely if this was a remnant of existing in a body that needed to sleep for so long. Even during these periods though, several buds remained open, watching me intently. 

The shelves with the chemicals had always been too high for me. I wasn’t even gonna bother with the stool; it was probably buried under layers and layers of vines. I would need to stand on the counter to reach it. 

It was on the 31st day that I made my move. Most of the buds were closed. I counted, and only a few near the floor still loomed wide and attentive. 

I carefully made my way over to the shelf. 

I moved slowly and with as much casual ease as I could muster. I couldn’t let him know what I was doing. 

Thankfully the vines on the counters were not nearly as dense as the ones on the floor. There were small pockets of free space and if I could just get my feet in them, I could stand on the counter without alerting Moon. 

I carefully lifted a foot. It was difficult. I had to essentially pull my weight using the leverage of only a very small portion of the counter.

I felt myself slip slightly, brushing against a vine.

I froze. The vine in question shifted slightly in response, changing the pattern of interlocking vines slightly. 

Eventually, it stilled. I breathed a sigh of relief. 

Finally, I was able to make my way to the top of the counter. The open spaces had shrunk considerably with the shifting, so I had to stand on just the tips of my toes. 

I slowly pulled open the cabinets, careful to adjust my weight and hold onto the handle as it swung towards me. 

It was in the back, carefully labeled with many warnings along the side. I slowly brought it out. 

I grasped it carefully in my hands. A whole liter of the liquid filled the heavy jar. 

I needed to inject it into him.

If I could just find a needle or make a small cut with something I could probably–

I felt a vine squeeze around my toe.

I lost balance. 

I tried to grab onto something but my hands were still wrapped around the toxin tightly. 

I felt myself fall backward onto the floor. 

With a crack– I could feel the concoction shatter onto my chest. 

The world was spinning. I felt sick.

I shakily lifted a blood-soaked hand. 

The glass had cut me. 

The vines surrounding me moved in a sudden flurry. I felt the vines underneath me retreat, leaving me on the cold empty ground, buds opened and sprouted to life as they swarmed above me. 

The whole room was shifting and writhing.

I could feel my body react painfully to the toxin. Extreme nausea overwhelmed my senses and I had the sudden urge to empty my stomach.

Pain shot through every nerve as my eyelids felt heavier and heavier.

I was going to die. 

I had failed.

Above, the eyes twisted and turned above me, creating a dizzying array of shapes and sounds. 

I felt a small vine gently touch my open palm. I wondered vaguely if it was possible for a plant to feel grief– to mourn. 

There was a moment of stillness. The pain subsided as the vine rested gently in my hand.

But eventually, I could feel the vine crawl further. Carefully avoiding the spill in the center, they wrapped around my body. I felt like one of those animals now, caught in a tight embrace.

The last thing I saw was Moon lifting a single bud to look at my face. 

And then, it dug in.

[fatuifucker]

ah ok! then can my trans scara request be in the catboy au pls? maybe for one of the camshows proposed by mr. zhongli :3 👉👈

soft dom trans! camboy! catboy! scaramouche x sub trans! fem-sex reader (he/him and masculine pronouns used for reader, no mention of breasts but mention of pussy)

WARNINGS = smut, penetration (reader + scara receiving), toys (vibrator + double-ended dildo + nipple clamps + buttplug + leash), livestreaming, role reversal, praise, pet play, use of "master" + "kitty" as pet names, use of word "cunt"

W/C = 1.2k

A/N = uhhhh i forgot how to write dom scara tbh LMAO also been wanting to write about double dildos for a while, don't really see a lot of content fot it hehe shoutout to @child-of-plut0 for watching my stream as i wrote this

TAGS = @midnxght-sweet-time, @barbatosfavouritenun, @ember-is-clueless, @huboi, @nejibot, @yumixxn, @edenialucas, @voidkinnie

Senses deprived. Blinded by black silk over your eyes. Body exposed. Cold all over, yet so hot, hot, hot down there. It’s inflaming, engulfing. You should be ashamed but you’re not. In fact, you’re ecstatic. Other than the buzzing of the vibrator stuffed inside you, the only sound that fills the silent space is the familiar, silvery voice of one of your catboys.

“Today’s a special occasion, so I wanted to try something fun,” you hear a chuckle, followed by a click. “Hehe, yes, these all look interesting, don’t they?”

You tune out most of the conversation, every word he speaks to the audience a bleary fog to the oversaturating exhilaration that floods your body and brain. Left gasping for air, your moans serve as music for the viewers; hundreds of them all watching you writhe, tied to the bed as you await for Scaramouche’s touch.

“Let’s see…the double-ended dildo? Hehehe, an excellent choice.”

There’s shuffling, and you heave when the pleasure comes to a halt. More shuffling, followed by the warmth of hands, and the constricting binds around your wrists are finally lifted. Another warm touch — this time, his lips — presses against your temple as Scaramouche sits you up, the bells on your collar and nipples jingling with the movement

“Can you still go on? Or do you need a rest?” he whispers in your ear. Despite the abrasive tone, there’s a hint of concern under it — one you have come to associate with the headstrong catboy you know and love. 

You nod. “Yes, I’m—”

He tugs on the leash attached to your collar, cutting you off. His breath tickles your ear, the low, domineering timbre making you quiver. “Need I remind you of my order? How are you supposed to refer to me?”

“Y-yes, Master,” you gulp.

A role reversal. That was what you consented to. To be filmed for one of his camshows, and to be his pet.

His catboy.

Even if you are blindfolded, you can practically see the evident smirk on his face. “Good boy.”

Your chest palpitates at the pet name. The chat must have said something humorous, for you feel Scara’s chest rumble as he laughs. Carefully, he slips the vibrator out of your hole, while you stifle back a whine at the emptiness. He hushes you, digits tracing your labia as it picks up some of your essence. It appears he’s lathering something with your fluids. You don’t get to ponder over it for long before he makes his next demand.

“Spread your legs. Put one of them up like this.” He helps you into his desired position, on the account that your sense of sight is severely restricted. There’s the shifting of sheets, and then something wet touches the outer lining of your pussy. “Move with me.”

You share twin whimpers as Scara pushes the dildo inside you, at the same time the other side enters him. He lets out a shaky moan as he starts grinding, with you following suit. Your hole clenches around the rubbery dildo, tensing up when you slide against the ribbed edges. It’s intimate, sharing a cock with your mated one. To watch your catboys doing this live is thrilling. To experience it yourself is an entirely different thing.

“That’s it, just like that,” he rasps. “Faster…faster!”

Your thighs burn but fuck do you care when it feels so damn good. Faster, faster, faster. You need to please Scara. You need to please your Master. You need to be a good catboy for him. He seems to have noticed your renewed enthusiasm for he reaches out and strokes you behind your fake cat ears.

“Good boy, good boy,” he purrs. “My good little catboy.”

Synchronised in this hypnotic rhythm, your hips move in tandem; chasing, chasing, chasing after this riveting gratification. You’re lost in this blind lust, lost in a void of darkness, but he guides you by taking your hand in his, providing you with stability and keeping you grounded. In truth, he’s doing his duty as your supposed master. He’s firm and controlling, but not in a bad way. Maybe he gets it from your example, which gives you a bit of relief.

“Mm…hm? You want us to change positions?” Scara mumbles lazily, stopping his movements. “Ugh, fine, how’s this?”

Scara lets go of you. He adjusts his body, manoeuvring you with him so that you’re laid on your back, with him above you. From inference, you guess your ass is positioned in front of the camera. Perhaps to give the audience a view of the cat tail plug lodged in your asshole. Hot air brushes against your neck and then— he plunges into the other end of the dildo in a single motion, his pussy slapping against yours in a wet smack. Scara furiously pounds himself against the dildo, slamming against your dewy cunt with every turn until you’re left speechless, nothing but moans spilling out of your weary lips. His teeth clings onto every expanse of skin you offer to him, leaving marks on your neck, collarbone, chest; everywhere. For once, he seems to have forgotten about the camera, the viewers, the livestream. His focus is on you, on your pleasure, for your attention to be on him, him and only him.

“Mmm you’re doing so good kitty…so, so good for me,” he growls, sandpaper tongue swiping up the sweat stuck to your neck. “Such a good boy…”

The bells on your nipple clamps jingle as he sucks on the buds. He doesn’t care that the audience can’t see, you would have to lecture him on it later, he just wants to make you feel good. To see your reactions, to know that you want him.

Every slam, every collision of his pussy against yours makes you throb, walls clinching onto the rubbery dick as if sucking on it to keep your sanity. The brief friction of his clit against yours makes your cunt pulse, and you swear you have forgotten how to breathe when all the blood rushes to your head and the rapid thumping of your heart reverberates through your skull.

“Fuck, fuck— I’m close too, argh, shit shit shit shit!”

“Oh god, Master, Master! I’m so close, I’m close, I wanna cum I wanna cum I wanna cum—” you cry.

Scara mewls as the both of you reach your peak, sharp nails digging into your shoulders as his body twitches, hole contracting and expanding around the cock. His thighs tremble as he nearly collapses on you, barely holding himself up with his arms. You immediately notice, wrapping your arms around his back to support him. He shows his appreciation by licking your face, purring as you pet his soft ears. If you weren’t blindfolded, you would have seen the comments cooing at his tail, swishing back and forth in contentment. He suddenly recalls that he is streaming, and gets off you to look through the comments, slightly wincing at the sensitivity.

“You wish you could see our faces? Too bad, bleeeeh!” Scara sneers, and you know with absolute certainty that he’s sticking out his tongue in mockery.

“Mochi, behave,” you scold him, finding satisfaction in the squeal he makes when you tug on his tail.

“Hey! You can’t do that to your master!”

“Really? Weren’t you the one who said that cat hybrids have a right to discipline their masters when they…what’s the word you used? ‘Are being a little brat’ was it?” you tease.

“Bratty?! I’m bratty?! You—”