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seiwas · 9 months

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₊˚⊹｡ see me through the morning glow | gojo satoru

wc: 1.0k summary: you and gojo have a slow morning. contains: f!reader in mind, suggestive if you squint, food descriptions. a/n: unedited, i honestly dk what this is i just really needed to get this out of my system! this is how i cope with 236.

re-uploaded because i accidentally deleted!

You slip out of bed faced with the promise of sunlight.

The curtains in your bedroom radiate a glow that bounces off the man lying next to you; it’s soft, near-white, almost ethereal, the color of his skin, hair, and bones. His back is exposed, arm reaching out over the (now) empty space beside him—the crinkles and folds where you once were.

You’ve always thought your bedroom had good lighting, and now you can confirm why: in the shadows, deepening the line that runs down his spine; in the highlights, guiding your eyes to the pockets of muscle behind his shoulders.

You look away, trying your best not to stare; the only reason he’s undressed is because of a cold sweat, from the nightmares—and the very need for skin-to-skin, to ground him in your touch.

On mornings like this, you let Gojo sleep in.

(Because you’re lucky if he can fall back asleep again).

It’s slow today—no work, no missions that need you or him. It’s your favorite kind of day, and Gojo’s too (once he wakes up and smells the waffles you’ve prepared, double topped with whipped cream and maple syrup—his special, of course).

A steady stream of warmth flows through the window to your kitchen countertop, the marble glimmering as light hits. The material was his choice; you don’t care much for glamor but Gojo likes pretty things—you especially, he likes to say.

The batter is quick to prepare, a recipe you’ve done many times before, so you ladle it into the waffle maker before letting it set on its own. Then, you grab a pan to heat up, spooning in last night’s leftover rice, some soy sauce, and mirin, adding salt to taste, as needed. A standard fried rice breakfast, with a yolk to mix in later.

The sound of his footsteps are concealed by the sizzles of the pan in front of you, but you’re caught off guard by arms wrapped around your waist, and his chin nestling itself into your shoulder as he nuzzles you.

He’s still shirtless, you notice, so you inch backwards in case of any oil spatter.

“Good sleep?” you mumble, certain that he heard you.

He hums, before whispering, lips tickling the edges of your ear on purpose, pouting, “Not anymore when you left.”

This man—a giant baby, puffed cheeks with long limbs hunched over you.

Your big baby.

Despite his whines, he’s telling the truth, you know, and you feel warm because of it, affection seeping in the cracks between his arms and the kitchen stove.

You blow on a spoonful of rice before lifting it up to his lips. Gojo’s breakfasts are always sweet, but every time you cook, he looks forward to this: waiting right behind you to be fed over your shoulder.

His review will always be the same, of course, everything you touch turns out good.

He reaches for the waffle maker with one hand while the other keeps you close, and you plate his little breakfast for him, whipped cream with little hearts drawn in maple syrup.

You grab a bowl for your rice and sit by the counter, Gojo sitting thigh-to-thigh beside you despite the abundance of space around you.

You realize then, that Gojo tends to hover.

Not necessarily in a bad way, just that, he does it all the time—always wanting to be near.

And for someone so perceiving, practically all-seeing, he doesn’t really have to for him to know what you’re up to, but with every opportunity he has, he never misses a moment to be close to you.

When you wash the dishes by the sink, he stays beside you, shoulder-to-shoulder, even when the sink is wide enough to accommodate him a few inches farther.

Even the walk to the bathroom has him tailing you, following your footsteps as he traces the footprints of slow mornings with you.

Your bathroom counter has two sinks, but of course, today, he chooses to stay by yours.

“Skincare?” you raise a tub of face mask.

He doesn’t need it, but you love pampering him, so he nods, whatever you want.

You struggle for a bit (he’s just too tall), so he picks you up by the waist and rests you on the bathroom counter, against the mirror.

He stays in the space between your legs, hands flat against your thighs. His thumb kneads your skin gently, and any other time, this position would end very differently, but there’s a look he’s giving you—all words without speaking.

And—

“Quit staring,” you mumble, turning shy. You’re about to rub the product onto his cheeks, under his eyes.

“What, I can’t look at you?” he moves closer, keeping his eyes locked on you as he rubs circles on your thighs.

“No, you can, but,” you swallow, “you’re looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” his brows furrow.

“Like that.” you sigh, gesturing to his face.

“Like I love you?”

And it is like that. Like he loves you. That’s why he says it so casually.

Because he does.

You stay quiet, stunned, before you clear your throat and finish up the final area on his face.

“Yeah.” you mumble, reaching over to wash your hands on the sink.

Gojo waits for you to finish before he takes a small towel to dry your hands with it.

“As if you don’t know.” he scoffs, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter.

He’s right—it’s been said before, but there’s something else in his eyes right now, shiny and devoted, as if this is all he could ever want. As if you, on this slow morning, in this too-big bathroom is all he could ever need.

But he doesn’t say anything. At least, not what he really means.

“Not my fault you’re so pretty today,” he adds on, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

It should be funny, that he’s telling you all this with a mask slathered all over his face, but his compliments always speak to the depths of you, even when you don’t expect them to.

His fingers mold against your cheek, to your ears, down to the back of your head, bringing you closer until he kisses you softly, a gentle peck.

Bits of the face mask transfer to your nose and you giggle, wiping it off.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, they say.” you joke.

Gojo smiles, that look on his face, “Good for you then, you’re the only one I see.”

re-uploaded because i accidentally deleted!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojo #satoru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #shotorus.writes #gojo x yn #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo fluff #was considering deleting this tbh but it racked up notes this morning so !#but then... i accidentally deleted it too so now im reposting !!

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wenigstenshabeichesversucht · 3 months

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Girls Castellan might like

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Athena kid!Reader

Summary: After talking to Annabeth, you try to figure out who Luke likes. And what would be the best way to do this other than a list?

Warnings: fluff, english is not my native language

Word Count: 2.6k

First when you had arrived, Camp Half-Blood sounded like a dream. A place where you were finally safe, thanks to Mr. D. the weather was always good and there were many activities. But after some time, doing always the same stuff got boring. Learning ancient Greek, cleaning stables, Pegasus riding, picking strawberries, Sword and archery training, Volleyball, Capture the Flag, swimming in the lake, and campfire singalongs. Every week it was the same. Thanks Aphrodite, you were all hormonal teenagers and at least there was sometimes exciting drama at camp.

Like right now, you were sitting at breakfast, and you couldn't help but notice, that Lucy, Daughter of Aphrodite, was glaring holes in the back of Luke Castellan’s head. Clutching the knife firm that her knuckles were white, she looked as if she was about to jump up and pounce on the Hermes cabin counselor. A big contrast to yesterday, when they couldn't keep their hands off each other around the campfire. So, what happened in the darkness of the night?

"You see it too?”, you asked your half-sister Annabeth curious, who already had assessed the whole situation.

“It’s not surprising, she isn’t his type.”

“Not his type?”, you echoed taken aback.

Before Luke and Lucy were a thing, only for ten days but still a thing, he had something with one of Lucy’s half-sisters. There had been a lot of drama, when Luke had ended things with Stephanie and was seen kissing Lucy three days later. It had been a lot of fun, maybe except for Luke, Stephanie, and Lucy. But back to the actual situation, after this story, everybody, you too, though that Luke’s type were beautiful girls, preferable daughters of Aphrodite. And who could blame him? They were otherworldly pretty.

“He likes feisty girls who are good fighters”, Annabeth told you unaffected while picking at her bacon with her fork.

“How do you know that?”

Annabeth and Luke were close, like siblings. But you couldn’t imagine neither Annabeth nor Luke lying down on one of their beds and talking about girls.

“Because he is so obvious.”

If she said so. You hadn't noticed it yet, but maybe you hadn't looked closely either. You had wanted to spare yourself the pain.

“And who does he like?”, you dared a short look at Luke, who was laughing about something Chris had said. Seeing this, you couldn’t help it, your lips pulled up to a small smile. Next to you Annabeth rolled her eyes. But you only had eyes for the pretty head counselor of cabin 11.

“Won’t tell you”, astonished you teared your eyes of Luke and looked to your little sister. A smug smile was dancing around her mouth. “You always complain that you're bored. Perhaps finding it out may help you battle your boredom.”

You immediately regretted complaining to her about your boredom at the start of your breakfast. This was now her revenge.

“Can you at least tell me if it’s a girl or a boy.”

“A girl, that's the only tip you get.”

Like every organized person you started your research with a list. Your list with the very fitting title ‘Girls Castellan might like’ included every girl at camp, except the ones who were too young and the girls you knew, were bad at fighting.

Next your research led you in the arena, where Luke was teaching sword fight. Clutching your list, like it was your most prized possession, you searched for a good place to keep an eye on everything. With a little bit of luck, you would be able to watch, how Luke was interacting with some of the girls on your list and could draw further conclusions from this.

You weren’t the only one, who came just to watch the practice. A few seats away sat a few daughters of Aphrodite. And you quickly understood why.

Holding a sword Luke was a force to be reckoned with. His movements were smooth as butter, and you couldn’t help noticing his muscles tensing under his shirt as he performed various exercises. Your gaze unconsciously slipped to his large hands, which were loosely holding the sword. After years of wielding a sword, they must be covered with calluses. How would it feel, if his callused hands would wander over your body, cupping your hips to pull you closer to him?

“What are you scheming?”

An all too familiar voice snapped you out of your daydream. Caught like a deer in headlights you looked up to Luke Castellan, who was standing right in front of you. Just looking at his hands, you could feel a blush slowly creeping up. Damn hormones.

“I’m not scheming”, you protested while stuffing the list hastily in the back pocket of your jeans shorts.

“Sure, that's why you're hiding the note”, amused Luke’s brown eyes sparkled. And what beautiful eyes he had. Stop! You had to concentrate! “Besides kids of Athena don’t just sit around and watch people, you lot are always scheming.”

“If you say so”, trying to seem cool, you shrugged your shoulders. “But that’s not why you came here.”

“Always so wise, fancy a fight?”

„There is no way I will beat you with a sword.”

And why fight if you already knew that you would lose? That wasn’t your style. You and your half-siblings knew better than that.

“What about hand-to-hand combat?”

Now you were talking! In hand-to-hand combat you could stand a chance.

“So desperate to lose, Castellan?”, you teased trying to drive away the nervousness that had settled in your bones. Sometimes you hated the nervousness Luke Castellan made you feel in his present, but looking at him, you knew, that you could never hate him.

“When it comes to you, I’m always desperate”, there was a time, were words like that form Luke’s lips, had made your heart flatter. That was before you realized that he was just a big flirt and wasn’t serious. But now, older, and wiser, you just rolled your eyes, before you motioned for him to follow you down in the arena.

“Flirting will not help you to win.”

Luke just shrugged, “Doesn't hurt trying.”

Yours and Luke’s hand-to-hand combats were famous around the camp. Luke had quick reflexes, was tall and full of muscles, while you were a strategic mastermind, always three steps ahead. And none of you shied away from getting down and dirty. Therefore, it was no surprise, that a ring of onlookers had already formed before one of you could throw the first punch. Besides, you were too focused to really mind it. You had already fought against Luke so often, that it felt more like a rehearsed dance than a fight. Maybe this was your way of dancing. While the Aphrodite girls danced around the bonfire, you danced in an arena to the music of your own heartbeat.

Like always it was Luke who opened the fight. With one large strike he closed the distanced between you and tried to punch you in your face, so your hands would go up, and he could kick you in your belly. Seeing this coming, you caught his hand with yours and while he lifted his leg, your swiped yours under his other one to bring him down. Letting go of his hands, you watched with a smile, how the tumbled down to the floor. But instead of going after him, you gave him the time you stand up. He was stronger than you, so you wanted to avoid wrestling with him on the floor so early at all costs, it would only end badly for you. First, he had to get tired, and none knew better that you how to wear down Luke Castellan.

His next three punches you easily dodged and then you stroke. Letting go of a flurry of blows it was Luke’s turn to block. For a moment you just exchanged blows, neither of you managed to blow the other's cover. But then Luke clipped the side of your face and while hot pain shot through your left cheek, you stumbled back. However, as fast as he punched you, you recovered. Dipping under his outstretched arm, you twisted said arm in a painful angle. You could hear his sharp inhale. And maybe it brought you a little bit of joy. But before you knew what happened, Luke had knelt and thrown you over his shoulder. To everyone's surprise, including yours, you somehow managed to land on your feet. Taking advantage of the chance that his face was still near your knees, you rammed your knee into his nose, drawing first blood. Both of you watched stunned how it dripped down from his chin to the floor, where it mixed with the sand. You had won sooner than any of you thought.

“It was a good fight, sorry about your nose”, you winced, but Luke just waved you off.

“It’s fine. I would have preferred it if you had won the fight with a tackle, but that's the way it is.”

Before you could respond a pretty girl from cabin 10 rushed to Luke with a handkerchief in her hands, and you were forgotten. Not wanting to watch Luke soaking up her attention, you retreated.

Only when you had left the arena and wanted to reach for your list, you found it missing. As if struck by lightning, you froze. You were pretty sure, that you didn’t lose the list. If it had fallen out of your pocket, you would have seen it lying on the floor, you were sure of it. That could only mean one thing. Just thinking about it made you wish the ground would open up and swallow you. Hot panic shot up your back and you felt like screaming. Someone had stolen your list, without you even noticing. There was only one person who got close enough to you to do this and at the same time had the nimble fingers required, Luke Castellan.

At dinner, you were sulking in self-pity while you were trying very hard to look everywhere except at a certain table. Maybe if you would not draw his attention for a week or maybe two, he would forget about the list. Or at least you could pretend that he forgot. The other option was, that you would flee from camp and never look back. Considering the monsters that lurked outside the borders for young demigods, the first was clearly the safer option.

The fear that he would share the list with all the campers, and they would laugh at you, gnawed at you, that you couldn't swallow a bite. Your throat felt like it was tight up, yet it was your hands who were tight up. You couldn’t do anything besides waiting for the storm to blow over, and you hated it.

Your thoughts got interrupted by a paper plane which landed perfectly in front of you. Surprised, your head shot up, and your eyes locked with a pair of dark brown ones. Sending you a wink, Luke dived into conversation with his siblings, and you couldn’t help but groan. His father was the messenger god, if Luke wanted to convey a message, he could do it by paper plane without any problems.

Torn you looked at the paper plane. Did you really want to know what he had to say? What if he just wanted to make fun of you? But if not? With shaking hands, you picked up the paper. Your mum was Athena, goddess of war, you wouldn't hide from Castellan, you would face this fight. Determinedly unfolding the paper, your eyes scanned the list spread out in front of you. You knew this list; you had written this list. Everything was how you had left it, beside one thing. Luke has crossed out the ‘might’ in the title and had replaced it with a ‘doesn't’ in his scraggly handwritten. Now the new title of your list read as ‘Girls Castellan doesn't like ‘.

A few days passed and you weren’t wiser. There must be a mistake! The list you made included every girl, that could fight and wasn’t a child. If Annabeth wasn't wrong, Luke had to like one of them. And Annabeth was never wrong. Crouching on your bottom lip you looked down on the list in your hands.

You were sitting in the grass near the strawberry fields, the sun was warming your face. When you weren't busy avoiding Luke, you were thinking about the list and its meaning. By changing the title Luke hinted, that he didn’t like any of the girls on the list. You had double and triple checked it, you hadn’t forgotten anyone. But Annabeth couldn’t be wrong, that had never happened before. It was maddening. It was like a riddle you were too dumb to solve, and you hated it. You were a daughter of Athena for god’s sake. Right now, you were possible one of her greatest shames, if she was interested enough in you to know what you were up to.

Before more negative thoughts could fill your mind, a shadow appeared over you. As you looked up, calluses hands stole the list out of your fingers. Groaning you faced none other than Luke Castellan.

“Still trying to find out who I fancy?”, he asked with a shit eating grin, and you couldn’t help but blush. But before you exposed yourself any further, you went into offense. As well known, attack was the best defense.

“You mislead me intentional”, you accused him. “The list includes every girl from camp. If Annabeth not wrong, you must like one of them.”

And you both knew Annabeth was never wrong.

“Actually, you forgot one person on your little list.”

That couldn’t be. You checked the list, more than once. You hadn’t! But it wouldn’t hurt to check the list another time.

“Give me the list”, you demanded, but Luke just hold the list over his head out of your reach. This was how he wanted to play it? Fine by you. Springing to your feet, you reached for the list, but Luke was taller than you. Tiptoeing you unconsciously moved closer to Luke. You first realized how close you were, as he wrapped his arm around your waist. Fighting a blush you hold your breath. You were so close, that Luke could certainly feel your heart almost jumping out of your chest.

“You are missing from the list”, he whispered, and you just could gape. That was too good to be true. That must be a dream.

“Because you can’t fancy me.”

“Why not?”

Truly confused, Luke furrowed his brows. Never had you seen him like this, and slowly you realized that he wasn’t joking. He didn’t want to trick you, and you didn’t know how to feel about it. Had you not wished for this for a long time?

“I’m not pretty like the Aphrodite girls you dated”, you confessed your insecurity. But Luke didn’t want to hear anything about it.

“In my eyes you are. You are tougher, braver, smarter, and far more beautiful. You are perfect. Can I kiss you?”

Lost for words, you could just nod. Carefully taking your face in his hands, he stroked back your hair, before lowering his lips to yours. The kiss was sweet, slow and everything you ever wanted. Sadly, it was over way too fast.

“I’m very glad Annabeth told me to help you with your project, on the day we fought. Otherwise, I wouldn't have stolen your list”, Luke confessed, still caressing your face. Oh, you see what she did there.

“Seems like she did set us up. Should we prank her for this?”

“Did I already tell you, that you are perfect?”

#luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan #luke castellan oneshot #pjo tv show #pjo series #percy jackson #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan fluff #daughter of athena #athena!reader

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altruisticalastor · 4 months

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↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Readerˊˎ˗ ↴

☒ Part One Part Two

☒ Summary: There was no time for doubt or guilt. It was now or never, and you had to play it smart if you wanted to be free, and you longed for that freedom more than anything.The thought of soon being in the comfort of Alastor’s arms, without any restrictions, kept you at bay. Within hours, you would be liberated.

☒ Warnings: fem!reader, she/her pronouns used, happy ending! silly lucifer, vox gets destroyed emotionally, lots of cursing and a light sugestive undertone, angsty and fluffy (a perfect combo) heavily yandere!vox coded, blushy alastor, husband alastor being the sweetest ever

☒ Word Count: 3,545

You awoke to an empty room after what transpired last night. Slowly, you rubbed the tiredness from your eyes. There was a note on your night table- you noticed it as you sat up. It was from Vox.

Sorry, I cannot be here when you wake, sweetheart. Val is being a pain in my ass. So, duty calls. I'll be up to check on you later. There's breakfast downstairs if you're hungry. With love, Vox

The kinder he was to you, the more remorse you felt.

Soon, all of this would be behind you, and that's what you had to remind yourself of.

You took your time rolling out of bed this morning. You dreaded the day ahead of you. As you finished dressing yourself, you caught something in the corner of your eye. You spotted an envelope tucked under your closed window. The corners of the crimson letter lifted from the harsh breeze outside. You wasted no time snatching the tattered note, instantly recognizing the handwriting on the front.

It was from Alastor.

My Dearest, Gather your prized possessions. I'll be here at midnight to bring you to your proper home- our home. Lucifer will nullify the contract you have with Vox moments after I retrieve you. So worry not, my dear. Within hours, you will be free. Yours truly, Alastor P.S. Be sure to burn this after you've read it.

You could hear your heartbeat as your hands shook, tossing the letter into your fireplace. The finish line was just out of reach. You could do this. You hastily began grabbing the belongings you've accumulated over the years, stuffing them into a bag Vox had gifted you for your birthday one year.

As you began gathering your things, the nostalgia kicked in. As did the guilt that sucker punched you right in the gut.

Each item you stuffed into the tote brought back a pleasant memory. Your favorite tee that you wore to bed each night, for instance.

You hadn't a clue how Vox even knew this piece of fabric was so meaningful to you. Nor how he obtained it to begin with. But, when Vox re-gifted it to you, you broke down. He seemed startled by your reaction, uttering apology after apology. Vox assumed his gesture did not go over well. But it was quite the contrary. This piece of home made you feel a little less alone in an unfamiliar place. You cried out a meek "Thank you." offering Vox a shaky smile as you wiped your tears away.

You shoved all of those memories into the back of your mind. The same way you shoved your belongings into the tote. There was no time for doubt or guilt. It was now or never, and you had to play it smart if you wanted to be free— and you longed for that freedom more than anything.

The thought of soon being in the comfort of Alastor’s arms, without any restrictions, kept you at bay. You took a deep breath, slapping your cheeks a few times to snap yourself out of this stupor. Within hours, you would be free.

Vox had been so angry when Velvette called— disrupting his precious time watching you slumber. These moments were few and far between since you forbid him from installing cameras in your room. Vox grumbled to himself as he stood from the chair, ending the call with Velvette after receiving the news about "Needing to get the piss baby under control."

Slowly, he approached your sleeping frame, admiring you. The rise and fall of your chest. The pleasant expression decorating your beautiful features and the hardly noticeable tremble of your fingers at the hem of your favorite shirt.

It was a cute routine of yours. You tended to play with the stitching at the base of your sleep shirt before you nodded off each night. The sheets always slipped down your frame from how you tossed and turned, giving him a perfect view of your little habit.

Vox recorded this moment for his private use. He knew your self-soothing technique was the reason your shirt was so tattered. Vox put the pieces together ages ago. He never forgot the day he re-gifted you that flimsy old shirt.

When you started living here seven years ago, you arrived with nothing. Vox sensed your anxiety from your lack of familiarity. So he had a chauffeur take him to your and Alastor's newly desolate home.

Vox rummaged through your personal belongings for a good while, to the lack of your knowledge. Inhaling your scent; which enshrouded your garments. One shirt, in particular, stood out to Vox. He noticed the wear and tear in the fabric, giving it so much character and conveying a story of its own. He assumed this tee was sentimental, so Vox took it. Hoping that a piece of home would put your mind at ease. He had also confiscated your perfume and other personal garments for himself. But you hardly needed to know that.

When Vox gave the shirt to you, your eyes filled with tears as you offered him a sweet little thank you. That stirred something deep within him. Something dark. Vox's obsession only doubled by the day after that, and for some reason, you were wholly oblivious.

Vox supposed that was the moment he knew his fixation with you was severe.

You took his kindness for weakness, Vox assumed. But little did you know, the love he had for you only made him all the more hostile. If he had you, Vox had no use for anything or anyone else. Plain and simple. You were all he desired— all he needed.

The memories you shared over the years replayed in Vox’s mind as he persisted in his daily tasks. He hoped you had read the note he left you by now, taking the liberty of treating yourself to some delicious breakfast. Vox had the personal chefs make your favorite this morning. He figured you needed a little pick me up after the harrowing night you endured.

His poor little sweetheart, maybe he should visit you earlier tonight. Any moment without you in it was far too long for Vox.

You paced around the ransacked room. The clock read a quarter to twelve. You were in the home stretch. Alastor would be here soon, as would Lucifer. Suddenly, a knock at your door pulled you from your thoughts.

"Sweetheart, may I come in?"

Oh no, this was not according to plan.

Normally, Vox finished his work around two in the morning. He would visit you a couple of minutes after he finished up. But why was he early tonight? Did he possibly catch on to your antics?

"Ah! N-No! Not yet- I am indecent!" You sputtered out. Fuck, this was bad. Really bad. Vox was quiet for a moment before his voice boomed once more.

"You sound- off. I'm coming in." You hurriedly tucked your packed-up bag under your bed, throwing on your robe to hide the outfit you had on. You prepared to take your leave, so your usual sleep attire was nowhere to be seen.

Fuck, Fuck- Fuck! He wasn't this stupid. Vox was going to see right through your bullshit. The trashed room was a dead giveaway.

Vox barreled through the door, making a beeline to where you stood. "V-Vox! Wait-" His slender fingers cupped your cheeks, a look of worry glitching onto his features. "Sweetheart, what's the matter?"

He was too focused on you to notice the state of your room. A shaky breath escaped you as you forced a smile, bringing your hands up to your chest. You waved them in front of yourself. In an attempt to show him everything was alright. Which- it wasn't.

"Nothing- Really! I'm okay, just a bit sleepy. Can we talk more tomorrow?" You forced a yawn. Placing your hands on his chest, an attempt to soothe his worries. Vox gave you a pointed look as he let out a sigh. His hands that cupped your cheeks traveled a little lower. The gentle caress down your neck and collarbones sent a chill up your spine. "Of course we can. Here, let me tuck you in."

Panic flooded your senses as he tugged at the tie of your robe. "I-I'm cold! So I figured I'd sleep with this on tonight!" Your hands were trembling as you stopped him from undoing the knot. Vox looked more concerned than ever from your skittish display. "Sweetheart, you're trembling! Come, let's get you under the covers."

All you could do was nod in agreement as Vox's hand wrapped around the small of your back. He guided you to the bed, and that's when he noticed something was off. "Sweetheart... where's your favorite blanket, and why is it not on your bed?" His voice was even but a pitch lower. You froze in place, not daring to peer up at him. "I took it to get washed! It was looking a little bleak." Your voice was shaky as you lied through your teeth.

Vox's grip on your frame tightened as he slithered his arm down to grasp your hip. His hold on you was bruising as his other hand came to clutch the opposite side of your waist. He swiftly turned you to face him, dipping low to get in your field of view. "Why the fuck are you lying to me?"

Oh fuck, this was the end for you.

His eyes were glowing bright and swirling with anger. A frown was prominent on his monitor. "I'm not! I swear- stop! Vox- you're h-hurting me!" His grip only became more brutal as his face pushed closer to yours. Vox invaded your senses. You felt claustrophobic- trapped. "Lies, lies, and more lies! Utter one more from those sweet lips of yours, and you'll be sorry."

Tears brimmed at your waterline, threatening to spill. Sure, Vox's grip was painful- but more than anything, you were petrified.

"I believe you are holding something that belongs to me!"

The radio static filled the room, as did an air of malice. Vox snapped his head toward your window- met with the sight of his age-old rival, Alastor. "How the fuck did you get in here? I have security cameras lining the entire building! Inside and out!" Vox's grip around your hips loosened from the pure shock of what was unraveling before him. You took the opportunity to slither out of his grasp, frantically running over to your husband.

"Ha! Your sense of security is flawed! You'll have to try harder than that to keep me away next time, old pal!" Alastor laughed bitterly as you cowered behind him. You seized his waist from behind tightly, hands still trembling. "Although, there won't be a next time! Oh heavens no! Not after the way you put your hands on my wife." The radio crackle was more prominent as your husband's shadow tendrils outstretched toward Vox.

Alastor restrained the pitiful man before him. You peeked over your husband's frame. Getting a glimpse of his murderous expression. His eyes were in the shape of radio dials as crimson blood spilled past his grinning lips. "You fucker! You should have stayed away! Have you forgotten that I own your sweet little wife?"

"Uhh... not for much longer! Uh oh! It looks like someone is late to the party, am I right, Malastor? Aha!" You jumped from the boisterous voice filling the room. Your head whipped over to where Lucifer himself, now stood at your husband's other side. The King of Hell nudged your husband with his elbow, looking for approval from his witty remark.

"Malastor-?" You sounded dumbfounded before your husband cleared his throat. "Yes, yes indeed! Now, get on with it, little Luci! Time is ticking!" Alastor spat through gritted teeth, shooting Lucifer a warning glare. The short blonde man scoffed, muttering under his breath about how "He was taller where it counted most!" Lucifer approached an annoyed Vox. He thrashed against his constraints but to no avail.

"What the fuck are you of all demons doing here?" Vox spat, eyes swirling with murderous intent. He was beyond pissed, and it terrified you. Alastor could sense your anxiety and wrapped an arm around your waist. He pulled you snugly into his side, giving your hip a light squeeze.

"Your old pal Malastor and I struck a deal! So no more wifey soul for you Mr. TV man!" Lucifer said in a sing-song voice. Without further ado; The King of Hell's horns poked past his golden hair. Wings fluttered out as a blue aura surrounded Vox. "No! You fucking can't- she's mine!" Vox shouted, tugging wickedly against his restraints.

You watched in awe as the essence of your soul was extracted from Vox's chest. He let out a pained groan while Lucifer held out his palms, gently cradling your soul. A gasp was pulled from your lips as your collar and chain appeared around your neck. Lucifer turned toward you, offering you a wide grin as he approached. "Looks like ya dropped something!" The King of Hell joked, earning a warning glare from your husband as he brought your soul up to your chest.

Gently, Lucifer overlapped his hands before pressing them into your diaphragm. You let out a breathless gasp as you felt your soul lodge itself into your chest. It felt foreign. You had been without it for ages now, so to be whole again was... liberating. With a snap of Lucifer's fingers, the azure collar around your neck fractured in half. It plunged to the floor along with the leash before it withered away.

The waterworks that threatened to spill past your lashline all this time finally slipped. Hot tears cascaded down your cheeks as you let out a small chuckle. "Thank you- both of you." You turned toward your husband. Alastor smiled brightly down at you as you brought your shaky hands up to wrap around his slender neck. You pulled his face low to meet yours halfway. Alastor took the hint, a small blush blanketing his cheeks as your lips meshed with his.

The kiss was tender and loving. Alastor's large palms wasted no time cupping your face. He gently wiped your tears away with the pads of his thumbs. "I've dreamt of this moment countlessly over the years we spent apart, my dear," Alastor whispered against your lips, forehead flush to yours. Your heart pounded against your ribcage from his words.

"Me too, Al. I can't believe this is happening right now." You giggled before Lucifer obnoxiously cleared his throat. Pulling you out of your sweet reunion with your husband. "This is lovely and all, but I upheld my side of the deal, Malastor! So you better do the same, or else I will fuck you!" Your mouth fell agape at the King of Hell's words. Alastor just tilted his head in confusion before you muttered, "Uh... I'm sure he meant to say fuck you up, my love."

"Yeah, that! Wait- what did I say?" You shook your head in disbelief as another laugh escaped you. Who would have thought the ruler of hell would be such a goofball? "Anyway, I'm gonna go! My job here is done!" With that, Lucifer took his leave out the window, humming a little tune to himself as his wings carried him through the night.

Alastor clutched your hand, squeezing it firmly. "Come along, my dear! It's about time you returned to your rightful home!" You nodded in agreement, releasing his hand to retrieve the bag you stashed under your bed. Suddenly, Vox's hand slipped free from Alastor's shadow tendrils. He wrapped his slender fingers around your ankle, pulling a frightened yelp from you. "After everything I've done for you... this is how you repay me?"

Vox's voice was low, wavering slightly. You could feel his glare on you. But you didn't dare to look his way. "Let go of me! I don't owe you anything, and you no longer own me. So give it up." You spat. Alastor's tendril twisted around Vox's arm, yanking it away from your ankle. The pitiful man winced as you took this opportunity to grab your things and get the fuck out of this hell hole.

"You'll come to regret this, sweetheart! You're mine, soul or no soul! And if I can't have you... no one can. Do you hear me?" Vox shouted at the top of his lungs as you took your husband's hand. Not daring to look back at the man you spent the last seven years chained to. "See, that's where you are wrong, chap! My darling wife was never yours to claim! Ha! How pathetic you are. Thank you for quite the pitful display!"

Alastor chuckled darkly as he took your bag for you, hoisting it over his shoulder. Without another word, Alastor's shadows surrounded you both. Taking you to a better place. The last you heard before you disappeared was Vox screaming your name along with the pitful cries of "I love you!" You felt a twinge of remorse for him, but it was fleeting.

The new scenery before you was bright and colorful. "Guys! They're back!" A cheery voice shouted. The Princess of Hell pulled you and your husband into a bear hug. "Oh, I just knew you could do it Alastor! I'm so happy that your wife is now a part of our found family!" You smiled at her words, glancing over to a rather stiff Alastor. You chuckled from his posture before another voice grabbed your attention.

"You two definitely make a cute couple! Who knew Mister Fancy Talk Creepy Voice had game? Kudos, man!" The feminine spider demon approached you before one of his hands took yours. "The name's Angel Dust! A pleasure to properly meet ya toots!" He bounced your hand lazily before shooting you a playful wink. You returned the kind gesture, introducing yourself with a smile.

"That's a pretty name. I'm Vaggie, and it's good to have you here." The petite woman gave you a small smile and a nod from where she now stood beside Charlie. You muttered a thank you before Alastor swept you up into his arms. You let out a small yelp as your arms instinctively wrapped around his shoulders.

"Alright, the meet and greet is over! My dearest and I have some lost time to make up for!" Alastor's grin never faltered as he shuffled out of the foyer and up the steps. You heard a loud whistle coming from Angel and a shout of "Don't break the bed!" from Vaggie. Which caused embarrassment to course through your veins.

You giggled as your husband ushered you into his bedroom. Kicking the door closed with his hoof before placing you down gently. You kept your arms secured around his shoulders as you buried your face into Alastor's chest. You breathed in his scent. Something so nostalgic yet ever-present. Alastor hummed your wedding song into your hair as his hands tapped along to the tune against your waist. "Let's dance, my darling!"

Alastor lifted you slightly, allowing the balls of your feet to rest on the tops of his hooves. You giggled as he began taking broad steps, twirling you around the large room. "Do you remember our wedding, dearest? Our first dance was nearly ravaged by a drunken Mimzy! Ha!" You shook your head at the memory. Husk had cut her off for the night- and let's just say the rowdy woman didn't take that too well. "How could I forget! Husker's tail tripled in size- and Mimzy uttered curses I had never even heard before!"

You both laughed at the memory as Alastor slowed his roll. Gazing down at you with unadulterated love swirling within his crimson eyes. His smile shrunk slightly as he brought a hand up to grasp your chin. "I truly apologize for disappearing all those years back without notice. It wasn't my decision, and if there's one thing I regret most in this world... It's making you feel like I willingly abandoned you." A frown decorated your husband's features. His eyebrows were knit in dismay.

You cooed at him, bringing your hands up to card through his two-toned locks. "It's behind us now, my love. Please, don't torture yourself anymore. I love you, and I couldn't be happier to be in your arms again!" Your gentle words tugged at his heartstrings. A small blush coated his cheeks as your fingernails grazed the base of his ears. "I love you more, my darling." The radio static in his voice was nowhere to be found. It was Alastor's true voice conveying his authentic feelings.

You wasted no time pulling him down for a kiss, which he happily obliged to. Your lips molded perfectly against one another. You could hear your heartbeat as Alastor caressed your waist lovingly with one hand. His other hand remained at your chin, tilting your face slightly with his grip to deepen the kiss. For being a demon in hell, it sure felt like you were in heaven at this very moment.

What was once lost was now found, and you couldn't be more thrilled to make up for lost time with your husband, Alastor.

tags; @danveration @celestial-vomit @jyoongim @stygianoir @polytheatrix @mmik3yy @littlebullofblythe @cxrsedwxrlds @lillithhearts @nogiggleonlybitter @minniemumbles @chewbrry @lbcreations-blog @nonetheartist @call-me-nyxx @zombiesnips-blog @stawberrypimpsimp @wonderlandangelsposts @villxinmiixx @persephoneblck @maxlynn17 @littledolly2345 @karolinda007-blog @falling-endlessly @greekyoghurtwithberries @bladeismine @aloraaaxcrystalzx @doctorswife221b @scaramoochiie @fairyv-ice @chirikoheina @veroneverleft @tired-of-life-86

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mrwavellswaps · 5 months

Text

Step-Bro Switch Up! (Re-Upload)

Instead of a new story this week I’ve decided to re-upload an old favourite instead. As some of you may or may not know, the original version was completely wiped from the surface of the internet by Tumblr to the point where there wasn’t even a trace of its existence. I wasn’t even notified of this when it happened which feels like it’s own separate issue considering it was my biggest ever story but I digress. I thought that now might be the appropriate time to re-unleash this story upon the world and allow those who loved the original to enjoy it once again and for those who never got a chance to read the original to discover it for the first time. That said I’m hoping to come out with some new and fresh content very soon but in the meantime I hope you all enjoy this return of an old classic!

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

I found myself waking up at 6:30am in the morning which was rather unusual for me but not so much for my body. I soon realised why though as a low rumble came from my stomach. With a sigh I slid out of bed, trying not to wake the other sleeping jock beside me in the process. I didn’t even bother putting on underwear, instead walking to the kitchen buck naked.

I waltzed up to the fridge, opening it up before pulling out a carton of juice. After taking a few huge gulps I lick my lips and let out a deep belch. Next thing I’m rummaging through to see what I can make for breakfast. Had to make sure I kept this big body fed after all. Can’t let all my step-brother’s hard work go to waste. Confused? Well let me start at the beginning…

———

A few years back not long after I turned 20 my mom met a guy named Devin who she soon started dating. Pretty big guy with a bearish ex-jock physique. He was 45 at the time so a similar age to my mom and they seemed to get along great. I certainly didn’t mind having some extra dilf eye candy around the house every now and then. I soon learned however that Devin was also a single Dad with a 22 year old son which certainly peaked my interest.

When I first met him I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. He introduced himself as Sam but I was almost too hypnotised by his looks to notice. He was the perfect image of a star college jock with enormous well rounded muscles that bulged under his clothes while standing at an imposing 6’3, practically dwarfing my lean 5’8 frame. And of course he was devilishly handsome too because the hot body wasn’t already enough, even having a great full beard that I was jealous of. I even remember how I had to hide my pulsing boner after he pulled me in for a quick bro hug, his manly scent getting caught in my nostrils.

After that Sam became a frequent part of my jerk off fantasies. Could you blame me? Not only was he the epitome of masculinity but my god did he have an incredible ass. Whenever Sam had his back turned I couldn’t help but have my eyes glued to those massive globes, no doubt stretching whatever pants he was wearing. Honestly I felt truly blessed to be able to spend time around such a man.

Anyway fast forward about two years and my mom had already gotten married to Devin. It was an amazing ceremony but for half of it all I could think about was how me and Sam were now Step-Brothers. We were truly intertwined now. I didn’t think the idea of that would turn me on as much as it did. That fucking hunk, my brother.

Shortly after the wedding however, the roommate Sam had been sharing an apartment with decided to move out and live with his new partner. At first Sam had been considering downsizing to a smaller apartment but when he brought this up I knew this was my chance. I pounced on the opportunity and told him I’d been thinking of moving out for awhile and that it’d be cool to spend some more time with my new brother if he was down for that. To my excitement he actually accepted and the next thing I know I’m moving my stuff out of my moms house and into Sam’s apartment. I was surprised at how clean it all was for the most part. Then again Sam wasn’t your typical dumb jock either, he always seemed very mature and put together.

The two of us got on pretty well living together. We tried to respect each other’s space and chatted a lot as good friends. Luckily I did well to hide my excitement whenever I saw him walking around shirtless, showing off his huge hairy chest, or god forbid only a pair of tight boxer briefs. The day I first saw that was the day I nearly creamed myself on the spot. Oh and while I respected his space when he was around, whenever I was home alone I couldn’t help but give into the devil on my shoulder before rummaging through his room. I tried not to take anything but every time without fail I’d sift through his dirty laundry, pulling out whatever sweaty clothes I could find and relishing in the smell.

For about 6 months that’s how my life was. Living under the same roof as my hot step-bro while trying not to let him see my dirty secret. That is until I found a certain little spell online. Pretty much I’d been searching up some fetishy body swapping stuff online and ended up stumbling across some weird body swapping ritual. Of course I didn’t believe it but the masses of comments on the page claiming it to have worked peaked my interest.

Next thing I know I’m up in the middle of the night waiting until I was certain that Sam was asleep before sneaking into his room. It didn’t take long for me to find the pair of yellow underwear he’d had on that day, giving it a quick sniff before stuffing it in my pocket and retreating back to my room. Once there I was able to start the ritual. I placed the underwear in the middle of a circle I’d drawn on the floor surrounded by candles before chanting some magical phrases that were supposed to enchant them. I can’t tell you how stupid I felt at that moment but I continued on anyway, finishing everything I needed to say before grabbing the underwear again. At that point all I had to do was wear it.

I yanked on Sam’s ‘enchanted’ yellow briefs with the hope that my wish would come true but as I’d expected, nothing happened. With a sigh I cleaned up the mess I’d made with this ritual stuff, feeling like an idiot as I did before heading to bed. I decided to keep Sam’s oversized briefs on though because just wearing them was making me hard even if I was still myself. I remember I’d begun to jack off in them, imagining how hot it’d be to see him wearing them after I’d stained them with my cum. That is until a wave of tiredness swelled across my body and before I knew it I was fast asleep.

It seems I must’ve underestimated that ritual because overnight something truly magical took place. When I awoke I already knew something was off when I noticed my feet hanging off the edge of my bed. I sat up in confusion only to feel much heavier than normal while looking down the bed to see a pair of much larger feet. Next thing I yank off my bed sheets only to find a massive, hairy, muscular body that certainly wasn’t my own.

Right away I was running my hands along the ridges of my abs before grasping the heft of my giant new pecs, loving all the fur as I was previously rather hairless. Jumping out of bed I was quick to discover that my lower body was just as hairy and impressive with huge quads, and impressive calves. And then it started to hit me. I didn’t realise it at first as I’d never seen it from this angle but these giant legs, these bulging arms, these bulbous pecs… they all seemed exactly like Sam’s! I was even still wearing his briefs which now clung tightly to my form as I didn’t fail to notice the familiar bulge in the front. Only… it was my bulge!

At that moment I knew what must’ve happened but my rational mind pleaded that it was impossible. Still I burst out of my room and made a beeline for the bathroom and what I saw in the mirror made me want to cheer, shout and most of all cream my new underwear. I saw none other than the sexy bearded face of my step-brother staring back in disbelief.

As you can imagine I spent the next 20 or so minutes inspecting every inch of my new muscle bound body. I did all sorts of poses to show off my physique in every way, pulled different kinds of weird faces in the mirror, relished in rubbing my hands through the full beard I was never able to grow before. Having the body I’d been lusting over for these past years at my disposal felt like some kind of lucid wet dream. But it was real! From my brother’s handsome face, to his giant muscle ass, to even his fat cock! All mine!

Soon enough I’d yanked off the underwear and started pumping my dick in ecstasy, loving how my hand only just fit the whole way around. Waves of pleasure cascading across my new body as I used my free hand to grope at my hairy pecs, the deep groans I let out only making me hornier. Before I could shoot my new seed however, I heard a scream come from what I can only guess was Sam’s room. Up until now I hadn’t even thought about the real him but judging by that scream I had only one guess as to what’d happened.

Instead of slipping the boxer briefs back on I decided to grab a towel instead and wrap it around my waist. I didn’t want him to think something was up to see me already wearing his clothes after all. With that I turned to the mirror one last time, scanning my face and upper body again with wonder. I still couldn’t get over it.

Upon entering Sam’s room I was somewhat surprised to see an exact copy of myself stood freaking out at his body. I should’ve been expecting it but it was still extremely weird nonetheless. Then, as he saw me stood in the doorway, he went silent. Naturally he was in shock for a good moment or two but as soon as it passed he began shouting a bunch obscenities at me. Demanding who the fuck I was and how I looked like him. He even tried to punch me which I’ll be honest wasn’t all that scary considering I was now twice his size.

Right then I knew I had a few ways I could go about this. I could admit that I caused this to happen, I could tell him that I had no clue how any of it happened, or even pretend to be completely oblivious and act as if I was really Sam. The horny devil on my shoulder told me to rub it in his face that I now had his irresistible jock body and that he was stuck with my unathletic one but I couldn’t. Sure we weren’t super close or anything but he was always friendly towards me and was never a dickhead so I decided to take it easy on him.

I pretended to be just as confused as he was, saying who I really was but not having any idea how this happened. I think I was pretty convincing. We ended up sitting in his room and discussing it for what felt like hours, going over everything that happened last night as Sam tried to comprehend the situation. Of course he only went on and on about finding a way to fix this and I had to pretend as if I cared, trying not to get distracted by my own body. In fact there were multiple points where I had to keep hiding the tent starting to grow under my towel because of how hot it was to look down and see a shelf of muscle sitting on my chest.

Eventually I was able to convince him that we weren’t going to figure this out any time soon so we had to start thinking about how we were going to live each overs lives. As you can imagine he wasn’t all that fond of this idea, protesting it at first but eventually came to see reason. I suggested we should start discussing all the important details we’d need to know but before that I wanted to get some actual clothes on. I had to try not to grin while telling him to get out of my room while I changed. Though I couldn’t help dropping the towel just before he left and showing off the meaty cock and impressive ass he used to have. I caught him glancing back with a look of envy, the very same look I used to give.

Of course getting dressed in Sam’s clothes was an erotic experience in itself. All of these large shirts, pants, briefs and socks that would’ve swamped my former body now fitting me perfectly. I must’ve spent at least 15 minutes or so just trying on different clothes while jerking my cock a little in between until I heard a knock at the door and my former voice asking what the hell was taking so long. With a sigh I tucked my new toy away and waltzed out in what I was currently wearing. A pair of well fitting black shorts and a large pair of black and white socks. I didn’t bother grabbing a shirt since I just couldn’t help but show off this bod. Could you blame me?

When he asked what I’d been doing I simply said I was trying on clothes. He knew there was more to it than that but decided he didn’t really wanna know. Instead we opted to both take a seat in the living room and start discussing things. I told him everything he needed to know about my retail job, which wasn’t a whole lot to be honest, as well as my friend group and what my daily routine was like. Afterwards Sam begrudgingly did the same for me, telling me all about his part time job as a fitness instructor at the local gym and that if we were stuck like this then I’m gonna need to learn how all gym equipment works and fast. He also gave me some inside info on his own friend group as well as walking me through what his football practice is like with the team. Part of me was worried hearing all this as I was beginning to wonder if I could really pull off being Sam but at the same time I was excited beyond belief to get into these social situations and convince people of the new me.

Thankfully it was Sunday so neither of us had a whole lot going on that day which gave us plenty of time to think and adjust without stressing. I spent most of it half naked and I loved catching glimpses of Sam glancing at his former body as I showed it off, even getting a little cocky by flexing every now and then which he didn’t appreciate all that much. Honestly I was surprised at how hungry I was as well and just how much I was able to eat. I mean I guess it made sense since a body this big needs a lot of fuel. Sam helped me a little with my meals though, making sure there was a bunch of protein and healthy calories to make sure I was feeding his body correctly. Later that day he also got me to head out for some cardio which I wasn’t too thrilled about at first but I actually kinda enjoyed it once I got running. I especially enjoyed my new sweaty scent that produced during it, not being able to help sniffing my pits when I got back. Of course Sam told me to go get a shower but before I did I couldn’t help swiftly grabbing him and shoving his face into my musky pits, laughing as he squirmed for a moment before letting him go. I apologised after through my laughter though I couldn’t help but smirk subtly as despite his face looking disgusted, the slight bulge in his pants told another story.

The next day however was when the real challenge started. After breakfast Sam gave me a list of what exercises to do at the gym. I’ll be honest I didn’t know half of them and had to look them up on the way. That walk to the gym however was the first time I noticed the difference in my interactions. Before people wouldn’t pay much mind to me but now as I passed people on the street I’d get some smiling and glancing at me, some giving me an envious once over, others even saying hi to me in a bit of a flirty way. Mostly from girls which even though I was gay I still enjoyed the flattery. Once I was at the gym though, I was in the zone. It’s weird but it was like muscle memory took over. I performed each and every exercise perfectly while loving the pump I was getting. Once again I was having to hide my boner at many points since I couldn’t help but get off to how fucking strong I was now. It did and still does feel absolutely incredible!

Later that day I headed to Sam’s usual football practice with a bunch of his jock friends. Initially I was worried I wouldn’t fit in but I somehow found myself easily slotting into the jockbro mindset and was soon laughing and joking with the boys. It was the same when we started playing, right away it was like my body just moved on its own, knowing exactly what to do and how to play. It was then that I realised I must’ve somehow absorbed a lot of Sam’s skill, know-how and personality when I took his form and I was gradually unlocking it all by putting myself in these situations. Although I don’t think I was playing as well as Sam usually does, not because of a lack of skill but because I was constantly distracted watching all those jock butt’s and bulges squeezed into those football uniforms. Surely at least one of them had to be gay right?

After getting home I found Sam sat on his laptop looking up all sorts of body swapping theory stuff. Of course most of it was fake but he was clearly desperate to get his body back. Sure there might be an off chance he could find the site I used but that a one way transfer according to the spell. Knowing this I told him to not get his hopes up and to just try and make use of the hands we’ve been dealt. As you can imagine he didn’t take that very well at the time.

From then onwards though, I’d say things were pretty easy. I easily convinced my new dad and former mom, now step-mom that I was their good ol hairy jock of a son. I was able to pull off being a fitness instructor with relative ease after going around the gym and using each piece of the equipment to trigger the memories of how to use it properly. I’d convinced all of Sam’s friends inside and outside of the football team that I was him. I’ll say that it took me awhile to fully get used to hearing my new name but whenever I did it was like music to my ears.

I’ve gotta say though, living with the former Sam was more fun than I thought it’d be. I figured it would’ve been weird initially after the switch and that we’d have to go our separate ways but even after just over a week of being Sam I was having so much fun messing with him. For example I almost never wore a shirt around the house, always showing of my huge hairy pecs and whenever I’d catching him staring I’d give a little pec bounce until he looked away in annoyance. I’d frequently pull him in for ‘brohugs’ where I’d either squish him against my chest or trap him under one of my pits until I saw him getting a semi. He’d alway deny having one though which is why I decided to set up a fun little experiment.

Turns out that Ian, one of the other jocks on the football team, was in-fact gay. Wasn’t hard to decipher after noticing his frequent glances at my ass in locker room, not that I can blame him, and how much he blushed when I gave his jock butt a slap after practice. Next thing you know we’re making out under the locker room showers while groping up each overs bodies. It was insane since before I would’ve considered Ian to be light years out of my league but now I had him on his knees with his lips wrapped around my shaft to which I then soon returned the favour. It was here that I got my experiment idea.

Yesterday after practice, I pulled Ian aside and asked him to come back to my place. He was quick to agree and before you know it we were stumbling into mine and Sam’s shared apartment. My former body jumped up off the couch and asked what Ian was doing here. ‘To have some fun’ I believe my response was being making out with Ian in front of him and dragging the other jock back towards Sam’s-well my bedroom. As Ian and I stumbled onto the bed, kissing along each overs bodies as we slowly undressed, I made sure to leave the door open just a crack.

One thing lead to another and before long Ian had his face buried into a pillow as I buried my cock in his ass and I made no attempt to be subtle about, groaning and grunting and my balls smacked against that supple butt. Throughout our amazing fuck session I made sure to keep glancing back at the door and finally I caught exactly what I was waiting for. I saw none other than Sam peeking through the crack in the door and lightly tugging at my former dick. That was all the confirmation I needed that my little bro was just as much of a homo as I was no matter how much he wanted to deny it.

———

And that more or less brings us up to the present, waking up early in the morning with Ian fast asleep beside me and being called into the kitchen by my growling stomach. As I searched through the fridge to see what else I could find to satisfy my hunger, I heard a cough coming from behind. Whipping my head around I saw none other than Sam with a judgmental look on his face.

“Don’t gimme that look, you’ve seen all this before.” I say, shaking my hairy ass a little before flexing. Sam rolled his eyes. “No no no don’t act like you don’t love seeing me show off your body, I saw you peeking in on me and Ian last night.”

Sam’s face went bright red. “W-w-what? N-no I didn’t!”

Immediately I shushed him, not wanting to wake Ian before stepping closer. “Oh come on don’t lie, I know you jacked off to it. So what was your favourite bit? The part when you got to see me using your body to pound into another buff dude and fill his ass with your cum? Or the part where you watched Ian totally dominate me afterwards and go to town on your former hairy bubble ass?” By this point Sam was completely speechless knowing that he’d been caught.

With that I lifted up an arm, exposing one of my pits to him but this time I didn’t shove him in it. “Go on, you know you want to. You can try and hide it all you want but you love seeing me show off your body, you love watching me adopt all your little habits, you love watching me slip perfectly into you jocky lifestyle. Just embrace it lil’ bro” He stares at me then at my pit. I could see it in his eyes. Pure lust. And then just as I’d hoped, he gave in to it. I couldn’t help but grin ear to ear as he voluntarily presses his nose into my pit, huffing my musk like a drug. I was even more surprised when he pulled away and immediately dropped to his knees, drooling at the sight of his former cock.

“C…can I suck it?” He asked while grasping it gently in his hand.

“Only if you agree to only address me as Sam from now on, even when we’re alone.” I state looking down at his hungry eyes. He nods in compliance and with that I put a hand on the back of his head and press him down onto my dick, letting him slobber all over it. “But don’t get too used to this. I’m planning on making Ian my boyfriend in the future and I wanna be faithful ya know. So enjoy it while it lasts.”

With that everything has finally fallen into place. The old Sam has finally accepted our new roles, I’ve assumed my new identity perfectly and I might even have a hot new boyfriend soon. My life couldn’t be anymore perfect right now…

#male body theft #male body swap #stepbro #step brothers #brothers #identity theft #male transformation #age progression #straight to gay #musclegrowth #muscle theft #male muscle growth #hairy #jock #magic #permanent

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honeyedmiller · 6 months

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Traditions | Joel Miller

pairing: husband!joel x wife!reader

rating: explicit. 18+ only.

warnings: husband!joel, joel is handsy af in this, no outbreak!joel, au where joel doesn’t have kids, mentions of christmas, tooth-rotting fluff bc joel and reader are just so in love, smut (body worship, unprotected piv, m oral receiving, riding, reader praises the fuck out of joel bc he deserves it, breeding kink), brief talk of having kids, no use of y/n.

a/n: sorry this was kinda poorly written. this wasn't revised, so apologies for any mistakes. hope you enjoy ~

word count: 4k

synopsis: you and joel make holiday traditions in your new home.

divider by the incredibly talented @saradika 🤎

The early December sun bled through the cream curtains of your bedroom, stirring you awake. You softly groaned at the world’s way of waking you up, pleading just five more minutes in your thoughts. Your eyes slowly peeled open as you took a deep breath, stretching your limbs to try and wake your tired body up. A couple of bones popped in the process, loosening up your post-sleep stiffness.

An arm weighed heavy across your waist, and you turned your head to find your husband snoring lightly, still deep in his slumber. You smile softly as your eyes run over his features. He looked so peaceful while he slept, not a worry in the world etched within the lines of his face.

You turned on your side so you were facing him, bringing your hand up to softly trace the features on his face. The alarm clock on his nightstand that you could barely see over his broad shoulders read 8:20. Normally, you two loved to sleep in at least one day during the weekend. You wish you could stay in this blissful little cocoon of warmth and sleepiness and content, all while being held by your husband.

But, to your misfortune (and truthfully, to Joel’s too), you had errands you needed to run today–one of which included getting Christmas decorations for your house. You and Joel had moved into this new house during the summertime, so you needed to re-up on decorations as Christmas was nearing the corner.

“Joel, honey, it’s time to wake up.” Your voice was soft, not wanting to startle him awake. His eyebrows quickly twitched as they threaded together. He groaned softly, refusing to open his eyes.

“What time is it?” He mumbles, turning his head to kiss the palm of your hand that now rested on his cheek.

“Almost eight thirty, baby. We have to get up. We have errands to run today.” You reminded him, and he groaned again as he shook his head.

“Five more minutes.” You softly chuckled at his response. You and him really were two peas in a pod.

“Uh, uh, c’mon cowboy. Up n’ at ‘em.” Your hand travels down to his chest, patting it twice as you try to pull yourself away from him.

Joel tugs you back and pulls you closer to him so your chest is flush against his, and he buries his face into the crook of your neck. You card your fingers through his hair gradually, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“I want to stay in bed as much as you do, but the sooner we get these errands done the sooner we can come back and relax.” You try to reason with him, and he lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Fine. I guess I’ll get up.”

“I’ll make breakfast after I shower so we won’t leave on empty stomachs.” You reassure him, knowing that your breakfast was the one thing he usually looked forward to on Saturday mornings.

“Why make breakfast when I have a delicious meal riiight,” He pauses, flipping you on your back so he's hovering over you. He leans down and his lips brush your ear, the coarse hair of his mustache and stubble tickling your soft skin. “Here.” He whispers, kissing your neck as his hand travels down the curves of your body, dangerously close to the place you were most desperate for him.

A whimper bubbled in your throat, but you shook your head and playfully smacked his arm.

“Joel Miller, you’re a naughty man.” You laugh, and his face hovers above yours once more.

“And you’re a naughtier woman,” He smirks, kissing you once. “Naughtiness deserves a punishment, hm?”

“If naughtiness deserves punishment, does that mean I get to smack your cute ass too?” Mischief was written all over your features, but Joel’s brows turned downward.

“Don’t even think about it, sweet girl, or I’ll deny you.”

You quirk your brow at him. “Deny me of what, exactly?”

“Me. My cock that you seem to fuckin’ love so much.” He shrugs, as if any part of this conversation was nonchalant.

You decided to tease him further, seeing how far you’d get. “I hate to inform you, Mr. Miller, I do have some handy dandy trustee ‘ol vibrators stashed away that can do the job just fine.”

He clenched his jaw at your words, rolling his eyes. “Ever the smart fuckin’ mouth on you, eh?” He chuckles, knowing you’d immediately fold for him and let him take care of you much better than your pink and purple toys can.

“Isn’t that why you married me?” You can’t wipe the stupid grin off of your face as he buries his head into your neck.

“Mm, one of the reasons,” He moves his hands up to your breasts underneath the shirt you were wearing, squeezing the soft flesh generously. “‘S okay darlin’. I know you only married me for my skills in the bedroom.”

“Ah, ya got me there.” You throw your hands up in surrender, and Joel lets out a hearty laugh. He moves his hands from underneath your shirt up to your wrists, pinning them down to the bed as he leans down to kiss you.

“You sure we can’t just stay in bed and y’know, let me put my amazing bedroom skills to use?” Joel juts his bottom lip out and pouts, and you can’t help but laugh at how persistent he was.

“No, my love. We really do have to run these errands.” You run your hand through his brown curls, pushing yourself up to kiss him before wiggling out from under him. He collapses onto the bed with a groan, slowly making his way out from the array of your fluffy comforter, blankets, and pillows.

He stands in front of you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he kisses your forehead.

“Last person to reach the shower has to make a pot of coffee!” You giggle as you run to your master bathroom, Joel right on your heels.

“I don’t think so, missy.” He wraps his arms around your waist and picks you up, moving you behind him so he can reach the shower first.

“Asshole!” You laugh, eyes squinted as you swat his arm.

“Yeah, but you love me.” Joel winks at you and you roll your eyes, quirking a brow at him as he turns on the shower to a temperature comfortable for you both.

“That I do, Mr. Miller. That I do.”

Joel ended up making the pot of coffee anyhow after you both showered and got ready for the day. You gratefully thanked your loving husband as he poured both yours and his serving into two thermoses before you set out for the day.

You had a game plan in your mind, because the quicker you got these errands done, the quicker you’d be able to change into sweats and watch a Christmas movie. First stop was getting gas. You offered Joel for you to pump the gas, but he refused and begrudgingly reminded you that as long as you were with him, you wouldn’t ever be touching a gas pump again.

Next stop was the local bakery. You needed a restock on the fresh bread they baked, and every holiday season, they made pastries that were absolutely delectable.

After you left the bakery, you needed to go to Target to get the majority of your Christmas decorations. You drove in a comfortable silence, Joel’s hand securely on your thigh as he drove. A soft country song was playing over the radio, and you looked out of the window to see many stores and houses already decorated for the holidays. You smiled at the sight, loving this time of year more than anything.

“What’s on your mind, pretty girl?” Joel breaks the silence as he looks over at you when you reach a red light. You look at him, admiring his handsome features before leaning over the center console to kiss him.

“Nothing in particular, baby. Can’t wait to decorate our house.” You smile at him, and he gives your thigh a soft squeeze.

When you arrived at Target, it took everything in you to not run to the Christmas section to scour for the perfect decorations. Joel could sense your excitement, and he chuckled as he got a cart to give to you. Joel had to take bigger strides to keep up with how fast you were moving, but he couldn’t help but adore the excitement that overtook you.

There were so many options for decorations, you didn’t even know where to start. You were examining some ornaments when Joel wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“See any you like?” He asks, turning his head to kiss your cheek.

“Should we stick with the classic red ornaments? I think they’re so pretty, but multicolored ornaments would go good with our tree since we have the white lights around it.”

Truthfully, Joel had no idea decorating for Christmas would be full of so many options. Before you moved into your house, you and Joel lived in an apartment that barely had room for a four foot tree. Now you had more than plenty of room for various decorations that were going to stay with you both for years and years to come, encapsulating new traditions within the four walls of your home.

“Let’s do classic red. We can get multicolored ones next year.” Joel kisses your shoulder before standing up behind you, rubbing circles into your soft, sweater-covered waist.

You nod in agreement, putting the ornaments in the cart. You pick up a few other things including an ornament that has two wedding rings interlinked with a ‘forever yours’ engraved at the bottom, Joel insisting it needs to be put up on the front of the tree.

“So do I get to unwrap you as my present this year?” Joel’s lips brushed your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

You laugh at his joke, rolling your eyes. “Such a cheeseball, I swear.” You huff, and he holds his hands up.

“What, I can’t admire my beautiful wife in some sexy lingerie then gladly take it off of her?”

“I’ll let you if you buy it for me. Last time I bought a pretty set, you literally ripped it off of me. You’re a menace, Mr. Miller.” You give him a fake stern glare, reencountering your husband’s inability to be patient and take the pretty pink set you liked so much off of you.

“Fine. Fair point. Maybe I’ll get you some for Christmas.”

Joel slots his hand in yours and gives it a squeeze, and a soft smile curls onto your lips.

“C’mon, let’s look at the trees.”

“A little to the left.” You tell Joel as he hangs up some garland you found on your trip. He does as told, moving to the left before you stop him and tell him it’s perfect. He steps off the stepstool he was on, wrapping his arm around your waist as he observes his handiwork.

It was five in the evening now, and Joel had just finished putting up the last of the decorations. Your living room basked in a soft yellow light, complimentary of the Christmas tree and the fireplace.

You were in awe that your living room looked so festive and warm. Owning your own home with the love of your life was something you’ve always dreamed of, and decorating it for one of your favorite holidays had your heart feeling all fuzzy and warm. It was cliché and you knew it, but you couldn’t help yourself.

You looked up at Joel with a proud smile. His dark eyes reflected the soft lights and the fire as he stared back at you, eyebrows creasing together.

“What?” He chuckles, pulling you in closer. You grin as you rest your hands onto his solid chest, sliding them up until they intertwine at the back of his neck.

“Just grateful I have such a hardworking, loving man.” You kiss him briefly, and his hands slide from your waist and down to your ass before you have a chance to pull away. He hums against your lips as he squeezes your pillowy flesh, causing you to gasp. He took that as the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, softly groaning as his hands started to roam furiously. A giggle bubbled in your throat, and he nearly whined when you pulled away from him.

“So needy, Mr. Miller.”

“You still owe me a chance to show you my neat bedroom skills, Mrs. Miller.” He retorts, recalling the conversation you had with him this morning.

“Mm, that I do,” Your eyes glance down to the fireplace, tilting your head in curiosity. “Can we try a new location?” Your pleading eyes look into his as you bat your lashes, knowing Joel always gave in when you gave him that look.

“And where would that place be?”

You nod your head down next to the fireplace. “I think it’ll be romantic.” You shrug, and Joel laughs.

“It does, baby, but you know my knees and back ain’t what they used to be.”

“Who said you’d be doing the work?” You quirk a brow up at him, a sly smile curling onto your lips. Joel’s cock throbbed at the thought of his pretty little wife taking care of him.

“Darlin’, are you sure? You don’t have to.” He shakes his head, knowing he gets off just on pleasuring you alone.

“Can’t your wife show you how much she appreciates her hardworking man?” You take his hand and tug on it, grabbing two pillows from your couch before tossing them on the carpet near the fireplace.

“Fuck, baby. ‘M so goddamn lucky.” Joel groans, kissing your temple. You pull him in for a kiss as you begin to unbutton his favorite flannel, sliding the worn material off of his broad shoulders. His skin was warm beneath your touch, so inviting and full of life. Home.

Your nails lightly scratched down his soft torso. He was slightly insecure about his tummy, but you loved it. More of him for you to love.

You begin to trail your kisses down his neck, nipping at his collarbone and chest as you fumble with his belt buckle. You get it undone, sliding the leather through the loops in his jeans and tossing it on the floor before undoing his button and zipper. He takes the liberty of shucking his jeans off himself, standing before you in nothing but his boxers.

Your eyes roamed his body hungrily, licking your lips as you trailed your gaze back up to his. Joel’s breathing began to slightly quicken, getting too turned on for his own good just by your lustful stare.

“So handsome,” You whisper. “Lay down for me, baby.” And he does. He situates himself so his head is propped up on a pillow, staring at you.

“No fair that I’m nearly naked and you’re still fully dressed.” He playfully pouts, and you laugh. You easily discard your warm sweater over your head and let it pool to the floor with the rest of Joel’s clothes. Your pants follow suit so you’re just left in your bra and panties, and Joel’s dark eyes admire the sight before him.

“C’mere baby.” He says, holding a hand out to you. Your hand slots in his and he tugs you down so you’re level with him. He grabs your hips and maneuvers you until you’re straddling his hips.

The flames illuminate his face, softening his features in a way that makes you fall in love with him even more.

Your gaze moves down to his plush lips before moving back up to his eyes, smiling in the slightest before moving down to kiss him again. One of his hands moves to cup the back of your neck, pushing you further into him to deepen the kiss. You moan softly and can’t help yourself when you slowly start to grind your hips into his, clothed clit catching his bulge just right.

The whole thing is cathartic, wanting to prove to him how much you appreciate him and everything he does for you, though he already knows it.

“I love you.” You mumble against his lips, and separate yourself from him to nose at his scruffy jawline to litter soft kisses among his jaw. You move down to his neck, licking a long stripe up a spot that drives him absolutely crazy. His hands grip your hips tighter, the cool metal of his wedding band pressing into your hot skin.

“I love you–too, fuck, love you too, baby.” He can’t control the noises that fall from his throat as you suck onto his collarbone and chest in the slightest, tongue soothing over the areas you’ve bitten.

You make your way down his torso, making sure to kiss his stomach a few times before looking up at him.

“You’re so handsome, my love.”

Your lips are back on his skin and Joel’s heart fucking flutters. You’re the only woman in the world that can make him feel so adored, so appreciated, so loved. Your praise always gets to him. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever find the right words to tell you what your words do to him.

Your lips find purchase near his happy trail, poking your tongue out to lick his skin just before the waistline of his boxers. You grab the elastic band, tapping his hips gently. He lifts his hips for you and you easily slide the underwear off his body. He cradles your cheek for a few seconds, admiring how pretty you look.

You look down at his weeping cock, pre cum bedaubed on his tip. You take his length gently in your hand, giving it a couple of tugs before moving your head down to kiss his thighs. It was rare when you had opportunities to worship Joel’s body like this, so you were going to take advantage of it.

He only ever got to be soft and slow with your body, never giving himself the grace to allow you to do the same for him. He always made sure your pleasure came first, but tonight, and many more if the stubborn man would let you, his pleasure came first. You wanted to make him feel just as good as he makes you feel.

You drag your lips up to the apex of his thigh, kissing his hot skin until you get to the base of his cock. You moved your lips to his tip, kissing it once before licking the pre cum off of him. He groaned softly, eyes falling closed. He tossed an arm over his eyes, trying his hardest not to cum just from your lips touching his throbbing cock.

You gave him a few more slow tugs before licking the underside of his length, humming against him. You finally decided to stop being a little tease and took him into your mouth, inching down slowly until your nose met the tuft, dark curls at the base of his cock.

He was heavy in your mouth, throbbing at the feeling of your lips wrapped around him. He cradled the back of your head with his other hand, signaling for you to move. You slid your mouth up his shaft, hollowing your cheeks as you worked your way to the top. His silky flesh slid easily against the flat of your tongue, working its way up and down his length to create a steady rhythm.

You moan around him as you taste the salt of him on your tongue. You move one hand to brace his thigh and the other to gently toy with his balls, knowing that’s what drove him crazy.

Throaty moans were elicited from your husband, hand tightening on the back of your head in the slightest.

“Fuck fuck fuck, yeah, just like that mama. Right there.” You whine against his cock when he calls you that, something purely primal licking a flame into your core and up your spine.

“You like when I call you that?” Joel chuckles, uncovering his eyes with his arm. He looks down at you as desire has completely taken over your expression, zeroed in on one thing only: making your husband cum.

You furrow your brows as you look up at him, and he moves his hand from the back of your head to cradle under your jaw. He lifted your mouth off of him slowly, drool spilling from your bottom lip as it was still connected to his swollen tip.

“Answer me, darlin’.” He tilts his head at you, and you shyly nod.

“Yes.” You’re breathless, moving your mouth back down to his cock before he stops you.

“Wanna fill you up. Ride me, baby.”

Your thighs clench at his words, the flame in your core burning hotter each second that passes.

You discard your panties and straddle him once more, the heat from the fire keeping your body a comfortable temperature.

Joel’s hands slide up your body and up your spine, goosebumps forming onto your skin at his expert touch. He easily unclasps your bra and tosses it to the side, moving his hands to the front to grab the pillowy flesh.

You slide his tip against your dripping cunt a couple of times before slowly sinking down onto him, the fullness setting your body aflame.

You moan as you toss your head back, and the feeling of Joel rolling your sensitive nipples between his thumb and index fingers have you keening for release.

You start to grind your hips back and forth, building sweet friction before you settle your hands on his chest to move up and down. Joel’s hands move down to the curve of your ass, giving it a playful smack as he admires you bouncing on him.

“Fuck, Joel, feel so good.” You cry, eyes screwing shut at the burning pleasure becoming harder to ward off.

“Takin’ such good care of me, mama. ‘M gettin’ close.” He says, hands moving to settle onto your hips. You whine in response, moving down so your body is flush with his as you give him another searing, passionate kiss.

“You deserve to be taken care of too, Joel. So grateful for you, my honey.” Your lips are next to his ear now, whispering praises to him like it was the last thing you’d ever do on this earth.

“Fuckin’ love you. Everythin’ about you.” Joel’s voice is strained now, a tell that he was about to come undone. One of Joel’s hands moves down to rub at your clit furiously, desperate to send you over the edge.

“I love you too—oh, fuck.” You cry, the internal flame finally engulfing your body as a whole. Your orgasm triggered Joel’s as your tight cunt squeezed him, and he held your hips steady to release everything he had into you. Your body convulsed a few times before finally settling down, laying on top of Joel. He wrapped one arm around the small of your back as the other hand traced patterns on your warm skin, kissing your head a few times before a deep chuckle rumbles within his throat.

You lift your head to look at him. “What?” Your voice is timid again, too fucked out to be any octaves louder than the crackling flames of the fire.

“One of these days ‘m gonna fuck a baby into you, Mrs. Miller. Then I’ll get to call you mama for real.”

You tucked your face into his neck at his words, laughing softly. You and Joel have talked about kids before, but both agreed you’d want to buy a house first with a possibility of owning a dog too before having any.

You kissed Joel’s neck once more before hovering your face over his, smiling down at him. “Until then, Mr. Miller, we’ll need to start our own traditions… just us two for now. Starting with fucking by the fireplace more often.” You laugh, and Joel shakes his head with a hearty chuckle as he flips you over so you’re underneath him.

“That I can do, darlin’,” Joel looks at you with a knowing smirk. “Round two?”

tags: @ilovepedro ; @party-hearses ; @nostalxgic ; @tinygarbage ; @bastardmandennis

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller imagines #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal imagine #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfiction #joel the last of us

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eggcats · 3 months

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I'm only thinking this bc I just literally did this for my cats, but radioapple fic where Alastor is NOT a morning person.

Like even remotely. At all. (He stays up late for his radio broadcasts - you think he's out of bed before 10am unless he HAS to be? No.)

However. He's also the one who makes everyone their breakfast because he's the only competent chef at the hotel. (There's a reason before he showed up all Angel Dust ate was popsicles, Charlie is sweet but her attempts to cook could be considered lethal.)

So he drags his ass downstairs at like 6am to make everyone breakfast (and then utilizes his fire/shadows to keep the food warm for everyone to eat whenever they get up.) And then once he's done he goes back to bed for a few hours before eating his OWN breakfast. (A nice, tasteful raw venison, instead.)

But he absolutely doesn't bother getting even remotely dressed or even brushing his hair. Just big poofy and sleep mussed hair, rumpled pajamas, and he's yawning every few minutes. This man is half awake and is working on instinct at this point.

Lucifer had absolutely no idea about this until one day his insomnia gets the better of him, and he's also awake at 6am, and he hears someone in the kitchen, so he decides to explore.

And he doesn't even know how to react to soft fluffy Alastor calmly making everyone breakfast, seeing his cute little deer tail just casually out, his hair not even brushed, and wearing significantly less layers than normal.

(and if you really want to give him a heart attack, make Alastor not sleep in long full pajamas but instead just shorts and a slightly oversized t-shirt that hangs off one shoulder - make Lucifer come to terms with his long ass deer legs, his cute little hoofies, AND his collarbones. All at 6am.)

But to top it all off, Alastor is just too tired and half-asleep to even react to Lucifer showing up. All Alastor does is ask if he wants anything different for breakfast, coffee, or something. And Lucifer is too confused to do anything other than agree, and he's not sure how to handle the dude who, the day before, was at his throat calmly handing him a plate of breakfast and a coffee. What.

And then Alastor, in between yawns, is like I'm going back to bed. And just leaves.

"You're not eating any of this????!" - "Hah! No."

Lucifer is suspicious, so he discreetly follows Alastor back to his room, only to see him faceplant into his bed and fall back asleep. (That's kind of cute. Wait, what? No, it's not!)

(When he re-emerges at 11am, he's just as much of an asshole to Lucifer as he was the day before. 6am Alastor and 11am Alastor are two different people.)

Lucifer may decide to become a morning person just to keep seeing this version of Alastor. Who knows.

#hazbin lucifer #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #radioapple #duckiedeer #alastor #lucifer morningstar #fic #mine

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ghouljams · 2 months

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I want to send Simon into subspace send tweet

Nah but he'd love the Amazon position, even better if you get tired of his squirming and trap one of his legs under yours so you're practically scissoring. He likes feeling like you're just using him, taking what you want without a care for what he feels. He's still penetrating you but it's you that's fucking him. Thrusting into him as he hears the plap plap plap of your pussy lips slapping against his skin.

You lean forward and the leg over your hip bends at the knee until you've got his thigh pressed against his chest and tell him to hold his knee up. Looming over him to wrap your hand around his neck. Telling him to "stop fucking squirming" because "fleshlights don't move".

He'll be your fleshlight. He'll be such a good toy for you.

Having him on his knees in front of a mirror, wrists handcuffed behind his back as you lift him upright by the column of his throat. Your strap deep inside him as you tell him to look at himself in the mirror while he rides you so he can see how beautiful he is.

Everytime he looks away - on accident, mostly, you just feel so good he throws his head back without realizing - you force him to stop. Waiting until he looks in the mirror again before you tell him "'s not your fault baby, you're just so good at taking my cock you can't think of anything else, can you? Too busy being good for me."

His moans crack and pitch into whines and then sobs as tears paint his pretty face, but you still won't let him move.

"Tell me how good you are. Say you're my good boy and you can move again."

He hesitates only slightly before conceding, he wants to be good for you and make you proud after all. You slowly start again, hands gripping at his hips hard enough to leave marks that he'll undoubtedly trace the next time he's on leave, pressing into them so they stay bruised and hurt enough for him to feel as he fucks his fist at night, so he can almost pretend you're there with him.

"That's it, darling, just like that. You are so perfect for me, aren't you?" After enough times stopping and starting again he repeats you without thinking.

"arrngghh- 'm perfect for you" he gargles out over a moan, watching his own spit bubble and drool out of his mouth and onto his naked pecs in the mirror

"Yeah, my sweet little slut knows how to make me feel good, doesn't he?"

""m y'r swee- hah! Lil' slut- mmmm! I'll make you feel guh- good, it's so good."

"You gonna cum for me, Si?"

He moans and nods, huffing out some words that attempt to mimic your sentence.

"yeah, you're always such a good boy, so pretty when you cum, aren't you?"

"'m pretty- 'm pretty"

He sees your hand reach around and wipe his cheek, smearing his drool with his tears.

"Tell me you're my good boy while you cum, mkay? I wanna see my pretty baby babbling for me like the cock drunk slut he is."

He chokes on a moan and his head rolls back before the hand on his face grabs his cheeks to pull him to look at the mirror.

"Your good boy, 'm your good boy, jus' for you-" ropes of pearly white shoot out of his cock, decorating his chest and falling to the floor and your fist around his shaft. "'m yours, 'm yours, yoursyoursyours"

His eyes glaze over and his vision blurs but he doesn't pull his gaze away from the mirror, even as he succumbs to gravity. Falling forward as you hold his cuffed wrists to stop him from falling into his own spend. Gargling on his own drool as it forces your strap to burrow against his prostate even harder.

On another note, I'm just saying, Simon would 100% want to get pregnant by you if he could. We need to unionize to impregnate this man.

Barking over this, I'm so feral. My desire to have Simon in any of these positions is fighting against the way I've got him characterized in my head. So I will give you this. (Cowboy)Simon getting Pavloved:

It's not often that Ghost is alone these days, but with you away on business he's had to re-figure certain things. Showers alone, breakfast alone, going to bed by himself with just your pillow to hug... Worst of all: sex. Ghost wakes up with a hardon and you're not there to solve it. With a grumbled swear Ghost spits into his hand and wraps his fist around his aching cock. He hasn't had to do this in a while, nice part about living with you, but it's like riding a bike.

He strokes his fingers over the soft skin, rubs his thumb against the head, nice and tight while he thinks about you. Thinks about your pretty pussy that is. Thinks about you every way he hasn't had you in the last few days: in the shower, over the kitchen counter, before bed, crouched behind you to suck at your cunt, holding your leg up to slot his cock into you, pressing you down into the mattress. Every way he can think of, it makes his cock ache, makes him groan against the stroke of his hand, imagining it's your slick cunt clutching at him.

You're always so sweet when he fucks you, always so careful when you ride him, never doing more than he can handle, never pushing more than he can stomach. Ghost tips his head back against the pillows and imagines the phantom press of your hands against his chest, the slap of your skin against his, the soft panting gasps when he angles his hips and hits you just right. He squeezes the base of his cock, tries to mirror the way you clench around him.

A year ago he might have queued up a porno, but now the thought of you is all he needs to have his hips bucking up into his hand.

Ghost groans, feels his lips part to take a breath. It's not enough, not what he's looking for, what his body is craving, but it has to be. It's just missing something.

Fucking hell.

"Good boy," He tells himself, squeezing his eyes shut against the shame of it, "pretty- fuck- 'm a good boy, pretty boy. Good boy, good boy, good boy." He pants it out, chants it to himself to try and subsidy your sweet voice cooing it in his ear.

Christ he doesn't know if it's the words or the flash of humiliated heat that tips him over the edge but his cock twitches and spurts come over his stomach as he strokes himself through orgasm. Exactly what he needed. God. He's going to have to say that every time, isn't he?

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #x oc #cod x oc #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #f!reader #mw2 ghost #ghost cod #oc: goose #sub!ghost

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thebearchives · 1 year

Note

Reading Breakfast in Bed and my brain has been stuck on dad Charles on Christmas morning

a little late for a christmas blurb, but i've got some thoughts

also, i don't celebrate christmas, so i kept this whole hc a bit vague. my christmas knowledge is limited to the small amount of christmas movies i've seen.

read breakfast in bed here if you haven't!

→ charles is 100% the type to be the first one up

→ he claims its so that he has your morning coffee ready for you to avoid any of your morning anger (you really love your sleep)

→ but just know, it's entirely because he wants to put the presents under the tree before either of you wake up

→ and so he can hang up mistletoe in every part of the house you frequent

→ THE TYPE TO ALWAYS GO OVER THE BUDGET!!!! he never means to, but it just so happens that his taste is expensive and god, he wants you two to have the best of things

→ the type of dad who will make hot chocolate for breakfast and have it ready to go when léo wakes up and rushes down the stairs

→ without fail, every christmas, he lets léo open his presents for him. léo loves it, and so do you.

→ christmas day is reserved for the home alone movies and them only. the first movie will start up right after presents, and the rest of them will follow after that

→ MATCHING PAJAMAS!!! YOU CANNOT SAY IM WRONG. IN FACT!!! THEY GET NEW PAJAMAS EVERY YEAR!! it's the first gift they open; matching christmas pjs and then they get changed to open the rest of the gifts

→ if it's a white christmas, trust charles to take léo out into the backyard while you begin preparing dinner. the two will come back ice cold, and just know, charles will definitely put his cold hands up the back of your shirt to tease you

#ask #anon #cl16 headcanon #re: breakfast in bed #charles leclerc x reader #enjoy dad!charles <3 #hc #charles leclerc #cl16

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scarletwinterxx · 2 months

Text

morning with birthday boy - dad jeno scenario

Helllloooooo so i got this request for our birthday boy🥺🤍 extra fluffy for this very special day. Hope you like it!!!

omggg pls pls make a jeno dad scenario for his birthday, maybw surprising him or something ?? 🥹🥹🥹 imagine him having a son who looks exactly like him when he was a kid 😭😭

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

and if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You and your son woke up early to make birthday pancakes for the birthday boy. It's a tradition that started years ago when you and Jeno started dating, he knew you loved pancakes so he took you out for breakfast and surprised you with a tall stack of your favorite pancake with a pink candle on top.

Now years later, here you are in your kitchen cooking pancakes with your son, Geonu, about to surprise your husband.

Geonu, now two years old, is at that age where you can let him join the fun. You love cooking and baking so usually he'd be right beside you as your little helper.

"Mommy, owy" his term for chocolate, pointing at the bowl of chocolate chips

"Want to put the choco chips? Okay, you do it like this" you carry him up, showing how and where to sprinkle it. You let him get a handful before you do the same, a few got stuck between his fingers and he immediately taste it

"You silly boy, you only wanted to get the chocolate huh" you tickle him, eliciting giggles from your little boy. Geonu is a splitting imagine of Jeno, when he was born and Jeno's mom said he look3d exactly like Jeno when he was born. And as the years passed by Geonu's showing more resemblance with his father.

Your favorite one being their identical eye smile.

You finish cooking the pancakes, fixing a stack to surprise Jeno with. Carrying the plate in one hand and Geonu with your other.

Opening your bedroom door, you see your husband still fast asleep. His bare back towards the door, you set Geonu on the bed and he immediately crawls towards his dad. Climbing on his back and laying his head right on Jeno's head.

Jeno feels something on his cheek, something settles on his back too. After a few seconds he can feel something wet on his cheek, a tiny voice gurggling.

A smile appears on his face before he could even open his eyes. He peaks with one eye, turning to see you at the edge of the mattress with a plate of pancakes and his son giving him his morning kisses

"Good morning, happy birthday baby" you tell him. He carefully move Geonu from his back to his lap, sitting up to blow the candle

"Geonu, let's make a wish. Okay 1 2 3" the little boy blowing the candle with Jeno, you sit infront your boys watching them with smitten eyes

"Thank you, baby" he tells you, leaning over to give you a kiss

"So how does it feel to be a year older?"

"I'm only a few months older, this would be you soon" he teases you back

One of many birthdays you've celebrated together and now you have your little bundle of joy to celebrate with. There's really nothing Jeno would wish for, he already has everything he needs. He used to wonder if settling down was something he'd do, he didn't really see himself as a family man. He's fine being on his own until he met you.

Ever since then, there isn't a moment he wanted to be alone ever again. He knew he was going to spend the rest of his birthdays with you the moment you smiled so big at him at that breakfast diner a few years ago.

He finally knew what real contentment feels and it's this. Mornings with you and the little boy who is equal parts of him and you. Celebrating birthdays with a tradition the two of you made.

"Let's have breakfast downstairs, I made eggs and bacon and coffee" you tell him, getting Geonu from then standing up from the bed.

Jeno sets the plate down on the bedside table before giving you a hug by the waist. Your hand finds his hair, giving him a half hug.

"I love you so so so much" he mumbles, looking up at you

You lean down to kiss him again, after a few seconds you feel a hand separate the two of you making the two of you laugh

"Uhhhh what is this? She's mine before she was yours" Jeno tells his son, giving his tummy tickles.

"Okay okay let's go get breakfast, we have a full day ahead. You go get dressed" you tell Jeno, knowing full well what's underneath the sheets

He smirks at you, waving as you walk out the door

After a few seconds you peak your head by the door, "I love you too" you say then you walk away. Jeno smiles, his eyes disappearing as the familiar feelings envelops him again. Like he's falling inlove with you for the first time again.

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missbunnybunny · 2 months

Text

╔═.✧ 🖤 ✧.═══════════╗

▶︎ 𝕾𝖍𝖊’𝖘 𝖘𝖔 𝖉𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖎

𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖛𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖊.

╚═══════════.✧ 🖤 ✧.═╝

𝕿𝖜: ☞ 𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝙽𝚘𝚗-𝚌𝚘𝚗, 𝙳𝚛𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 thoughts, 𝙵𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚢, 𝙱reeding, 𝙼ind break, 𝚁𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚜𝚎𝚡, 𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖, 𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛, 𝚂𝙼𝚄𝚃! «🛑𝙼𝙳𝙽𝙸🛑» ☜

Note: This is a y/n x pretty yandere, female-bodied reader. pet names such as Darlin, Love, and Good Girl, etc. are used.

If I forgot something plz tell me. Like and re-blog, it helps getting these stories to new people!

🫧𝕴'𝖒 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖛𝖎𝖓', 𝕯𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖓' ❣️💌💌 part 1

Y/n was startled awake and panicked. Holding the sheets over her naked body, she found herself in an unfamiliar room.

Silent tears streamed down your face as you began to shake. He tricked you and took advantage of your kindness.

You mourned your lost innocence for a short time when a knock on the door interrupted you.

“ I apologize for waking you up, miss Y/n.” a handsome man wearing a suit and carrying a tablet said.

The scared woman clenched the sheets tightly, “ My name is Ray. Mister Blackwell has asked for you to join him for breakfast.” the man expressed.

“n-No! I want to go home…let me go!” Y/n cried, face red from crying. “ I'm afraid I can not let you do that.” he shakes his head, “The maids will come and help you dress,” Ray commented before turning and leaving the room.

You cried until your lungs burned and hurt. Until your body could no longer produce tears, the maids shortly came. They helped you bathe and dress in a beautiful gown. They tried to cheer you up, but it was to no avail.

Soon, Y/n sat next to James at a large binning table. He kissed your cheek and caressed your skin. His touch was sweet and caring if it didn’t disgust you. Food was served, but you didn’t want to eat. You don’t trust that it’s not drugged again.

“ Say ah~ my dear,” he says, pressing a fork to your mouth. When you don’t respond, he squeezes your inner thigh. When your lips parted in a yelp, he fed you. He continued to feed you. If you didn’t open your lips fast enough, he would swirl your sensitive pearl.

The food was finished, and tears dripped down your soft skin. “ Come on, smile for me, sweetheart,” he asked, cupping your face and whipping your tears. “ I just want to go home.” You tearfully repeated.

“ We can’t have that, dear. This is your new home.” James informed her as he stole a kiss from her. “ I want to go to my store,” Y/n pleaded.

✦✧✧ ☆ ✧✧✦

“ I already told your employees to take a weeks-long paid break.” James, shut your request down. He wasn’t going to tell you that, but Ray hacked your email and made such arrangements.

Your face dropped all hope of escaping, where shattered.

It had been a few days, and James made sure that all doors were locked, and Ray informed you that you could go anywhere. But strongly warned that you couldn’t be outside without supervision.

James never left your side for your entire time locked in the large mansion. Sleeping, bathing, or even walking, he was there touching any sliver of skin he could. If he couldn’t find you for a moment or have his hands on you, he would lose his shit.

James knocked on the door to his room, smiling when he found your sleeping figure under the covers.

He kissed your lips, his tongue intruding your mouth. Lifting the covers from your naked body, his fingers began to caress your sensitive bundle of nerves. He thanked himself for prohibiting you from wearing clothes to bed.

Your back arched as you woke up with a moan. He knew you were still sensitive from last night. His fingers began to pump into your flower, while his thumb still caressed your clit. Y/n hit his toned chest, but that only fueled his passion even more.

Your lips parted as he gave you a dreamy sign. “ I have to go into the office, honey,” James spoke, latching his mouth to your chest. Your hand pulled on his hair, making the man moan.

James curled his fingers, hitting your sweet spot, over and over. The tight coil in your stomach made you whine, walls clamping on his fingers.

With one more firm thrust, the coil in your tummy snapped. Honey gushed over his hand, withdrawing his hand, and licked it clean.

“ I have a meeting today, so unfortunately I won't be with you for a few hours. Be a good girl and behave.” He kissed your sweaty forehead, taking his leave and leaving you tired.

✦✧✧ ☆ ✧✧✦

Y/n walked towards the side door, hoping, begging that she would get lucky. And it seemed that her prayers were answered. The maids forgot to close the door.

Her hand trembled and twisted the doorknob, slowly opening it. The wind blew, signaling she was one step closer to freedom. The door was left ajar as the woman ran to the street, with no phone and no way to contact her family and friends.

She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, ending up in the station. One she couldn’t enter because she had no money. An old lady exiting the station called out to her, asking if she was okay.

Y/n said she was, but her eyes betrayed her. The kind old lady offered her help, to which she took it. “ I…I just need help to run away,” she admitted, desperate to leave. She didn’t know when they would have already noticed her absence.

The kind lady smiled and accompanied her to buy a ticket. When she handed the ticket to Y/n, the girl cried, thanking her.

Y/n gave the lady all the jewelry she had, as a thanks and wanting to part with them in fear of recognition.

The train had arrived, and she left. Free, she was free.

She planned to return home, take all her valuables, and disappear. She would be sad to close her store, but it was needed.

✦✧✧ ☆ ✧✧✦

James sat in the meeting, bored, his assistant as always trying to get his attention with skimpy clothes. She would never be like Y/n. She was dirt under his goddess's feet.

Ray came into the meeting room, whispering something into the CEO's ear. James looked like a deer caught in headlights, “ You sure?” he asked, looking at Ray. The man only nodded.

“ I apologize, but something important has come up.” he expressed, standing up and abruptly ending the meeting.

“ Ray, get the helicopter. I’m bringing my little darlin’ wife home.” James expressed, loosening his tie.

The train ride was an hour and a half, so she could get some well-needed rest. But her mind raced, what ifs consumed your every thought.

“ Ladies and gentlemen, we inform you that the train will have a small delay. We shall be on standby for some time.” the conductor announced, as the sound of a helicopter could be heard.

Dread filled your stomach, making it sink.

“ Miss, please come with us.” a man in a suit said, “ You have the wrong person,” Y/n said, hoping it would work.

“ My sweetheart, don’t make me punish you. Not in front of everyone here.” James said in a low voice. His threat made you shake, trembling, hand taking his extended one.

There was no hope of escaping the lion's den once you had stepped inside.

✦✧✧ ☆ ✧✧✦

James held Y/n’s hand tightly, making sure she wouldn’t escape as he took her to his room. He thrusts her towards the bed, “ If you love me, you’ll never do that again. Understand?” he warns, removing his tie.

Y/n backed away until her back hit the headboard. The muscular man graded her leg and pulled her under him.

She began to beg him to let her go, that she would stay and not run away. He shoves his tie in your pretty plump lips.

Only allowing for moans and whines to filter through.

He has you caged in between his meaty arms, his gaze held a lustful and hungry glint to them.

Tears fell as if rain from your eyes, “ Don’t cry, I’ll make you feel good. I promise.” he kisses your tears.

Your tears felt like acid to his skin. He much rather you cry from pleasure. With his free hand, he removed his belt, tying your hands with them as if they were handcuffs.

He rose and looked at your posed figure, his legs trapped by your hips, so you couldn’t escape from his embrace.

He was going to make you feel better, make you see the high heavens. He began to worship your being kissing every scar, stretch mark, and so on. Any imperfection to you was perfection, a divine perfection to him.

Created by a higher being to be held, kissed, bitten, and claimed.

He hiked your leg over his shoulder as he caressed your skin. Leaving kisses and hickeys over the skin.

His hungry eyes looked at your teary ones, as he bit your leg.

His gaze lowered to your panties as he stared at them in hate like the small piece of clothing was holding your honey captive.

The small piece of clothing became shredded into pieces when he ripped them. His rightful treasure was now on full display to him and only him.

His large hand that once held your hip moved to your sex. With his index and middle finger, he spread your fold, groaning at the glittering sight of your slick.

His painfully hard member twitched upon seeing your dripping, aroused flower.

He groans, “ All this honey just for me?” he cups your cunt, feeling how it clenched around nothing.

Without warning, two larger fingers impale you, thrusting at an unforgiving pace. A long whine spills from your lips as you arch at the feeling.

He's hitting every sweet spot and curve inside you. His bulge grows even more at the sound of your watery juices.

His thumb connects with your sensitive, neglected pearl, making you squirm and try to close your leg.

He slaps your pussy at the defiance, making electric pleasures shot throughout your body and brain.

Y/n can feel the coil in her stomach tighten. Her hips met his thrust in chase of her own high.

James speeds up his movements, watching as your eyes cross when he hits that spot.

Your walls begin to constrict his fingers, telling him that you're close. He bites the meat of your leg, his finger hitting deep inside you.

Y/n came undone, eyes rolled to the back of her skull, drooling, back arch, and a pornographic moan of pleasure.

Cum covered his veiny fingers and his toned stomach.

The sight almost made him cum in his pants. But, that milk was saved for his darlin's womb.

James pulled his pants down, allowing his hardened member to slap your sex. Thick and veiny.

With your cum he gave himself a few pumps. The big man leans forward, his tip kissing your inviting honeyed entrance.

“ See, you're so wet and sweet for me. You wanted this didn’t you?” he asks, his face flushed.

His cock began to enter your wet, gummy walls, inch by inch.

His hips stutter a little, and his body trembles with pleasure. The feeling of your lips sucking him in.

With one hard thrust, he bottoms out in you. You moan, feeling so full, he begins to hump his manhood against your entrance.

His almost in a trance, the sound of slick and moans adding to his resolve.

Each furious thrust thrusted her forward in the bed. His tip kissing her womb over and over, you’re moaning and pleas falling on deaf ears.

The makeshift gag swallowed all any sound that was not your monas, the sweet sounds of pleasure he wanted to hear from you.

Y/n’s leg was still hooked over his shoulder. With his hands, he held her hips in a boa-constricting grip.

Your overstimulated wall pulsed and twitched, “ Oh, you like that, huh?” he says, still drilling into her like a jackhammer. His hand pressed on the bulge in your small tummy.

This made your walls tighten and pulse. His words and actions manipulated your dizzy pleasure-filled mind.

“ My pretty darlin’ going to look so beautiful, all swelled up with my child.” he groaned at the thought. Each thrust made your vision sparkle as if stars.

The all-too-familiar feeling of the tight coil forming in your belly told you that you were close. James's thrust became uncoordinated as he chased that mind-numbing high he was looking for.

“You’ll make a cute mommy.” he moans. He removes your gag, as you beg and cry for him not to, but he crashes his lips against yours.

He was going to snap you in half with the way he was bending your leg and fucking you at the same time.

The kiss was stymie, adding to the many pleasures you were feeling. Your mind was becoming blank, and you could only think of his dick inside you.

With a final harsh thrust, the coil in your gut snapped like a water gun. squirting over the man's abdomen and your inner thigh.��

James began to convulse, spilling his large fertile load at the feeling of your womb milking him dry.

You felt so stuffed full and overstimulated.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to become a mommy, a slave to his man's cock. James’s load pulsed inside you, making his cum spill from your spent hole.

You will be the perfect cock-sleeve darlin’ for him, your eyes closed as sleep takes over you. a content smile on your face.

✦✧✧ ☆ ✧✧✦

A new 🕳 to hide in 👩‍🦯

Tag list:

@tremendousdinosaurpizza @violetvase

✦✧✧ ☆ ✧✧✦

©𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝙱𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚢! 𝙽𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜. 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝. 𝙴𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢, 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚎. - 𝙱𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚢🩻!

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sapphicantics · 2 months

Text

Nightfalls Embrace

Pairing: Regina George x fem!reader

Summary: Regina’s insistence for you to stay the night forces you to tell her about a secret you’ve been hiding.

Word count: 1.4K

— — — —

Regina George is manipulative.

She does whatever she has to in order to get what she wants and she has no qualms about it.

Right now, she wants you to stay the night.

It’s a Friday night so she knows you have nothing to do tomorrow, not to mention it’s like two in the morning so it’s actually a Saturday, and your parents are away on top of that. It’s a perfect situation, if only you weren’t so stubborn.

“Regina, I gotta get home. It’s late.”

“Exactly. It’s late and you’ve been drinking. You’ll be safer here than if you try and drive home.”

You shake your head, a tiny smile rising on your face at her concern. “I’ll be fine, babe. I only had one drink, and I didn’t even finish it.”

It’s absolutely ridiculous how stubborn you’re being about this. This is your safety she’s talking about, nothing else, and she’s not gonna let you risk your life driving home no matter how few drinks you had.

If that means a little manipulation is in order then so be it.

Regina wraps her arms around your neck, her nails lightly stroking along your neck and sending a shiver down your spine. Your hands rest on her hips and she gives you that dazzling smile that never fails to make butterflies appear in your stomach before she leans in and presses her lips against yours.

Your eyes flutter closed and a soft sigh of content escapes your lips around the kiss. Regina flicks her tongue across your bottom lip asking for entrance and you grant it to her immediately, a moan slipping from your lips as her tongue slides against yours. She pulls you closer to her, your bodies flush against each others.

Is it wrong for her to be manipulating you like this? Yes, a hundred percent, but it’s for a good reason so it all balances out.

She pulls away from your lips and you take in desperate lungfuls of air while she presses kisses to your cheek. “Will you please stay the night with me, my love?” She whispers, her warm breath caressing your skin. “It would make me so, so, happy if you did. You can hold me and tell me I’m pretty, and in the morning I can order us breakfast from your favorite place.”

This is so unfair. Regina knows what her kisses do to you, knows that you’re practically weak against them and will give in to her wishes if she kisses you long enough before asking. Combine that with the pouty voice that only you get to hear and you’re practically putty in her hands.

This time is no different.

With your head fuzzy from kisses, you don’t realize the words of agreement that slip from your mouth until it’s too late, and by the time you do you’re sitting on the edge of Regina’s bed dressed in a spare set of her clothes while she rummages around in the bathroom preparing for the night.

You jump at a touch on your chin and look up to see Regina staring down at you. You try to give her a reassuring smile, but you’re sure it comes out as more of a grimace and Regina sighs in response, her eyes softening as she speaks. “You don’t actually have to stay if you don’t want to. I can have my mom drive you home and I can bring your car later.”

You shake your head. “No, no, it’s not that I don’t want to stay. I just…” you trail off, wiping your hands down your face roughly. “God, this is so stupid, it’s embarrassing.”

There’s a distinct reason you wanted to get home. It has nothing to do with want because the truth is you’ve wanted to spend the night with Regina before, but embarrassment is holding you back. You’ve got a secret and it’s one you’re deeply ashamed of because it’s so stupid and shouldn’t even be an issue.

No one else has this problem, no normal person has this problem. Regina doesn’t have this problem. Why do you? Why can’t you be like everyone else?

Your vision’s starting to blur, you can feel the tears building in the corner of your eyes, but you refuse to cry over this, over something so childish, especially in front of your girlfriend.

You squeeze your eyes shut and try to force back your tears, but a soft call of your name has the dam cracking open. The tears escape before you can stop them and Regina cradles you in her arms, your hands clutching her tight to you for the last time because there’s no way she’ll want to stay with you once she finds out how much of a loser you are. You sniffle and release a shaky breath, choking out the words you were planning to take to the grave. “I’m scared of the dark, Regina. I can’t sleep without a nightlight.”

Regina shifts above you and you tense, bracing yourself for her mockery and the inevitable breakup to follow. You know this is going to be in the Burn Book, you can already see it. There’s no reason for you not to be now since you’re not gonna be dating the Queen B anymore. “Babygirl,” she whispers.

“I’m sorry for being such a loser,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself, mouth moving faster than your brain can comprehend. The words are escaping as they come to your head long before you can take the time to process them. “I know you don’t want to date me anymore now and that’s okay, I can live with that. I’ll probably never move on, but you can go date someone normal, someone who’s not a baby that-,”

Warm hands on your cheeks tilt your head up and soft lips collide with yours in a gentle kiss. It’s quick and sweet and you don’t really get a chance to reciprocate, but it does its job of distracting you and quieting your brain, giving her a chance to speak. “Breathe, baby, you’re spiraling.” She reaches up, wiping away your tears with the pad of her thumb and slowly, your breathing begins to steady. “There you go, love. Just like that. Now, I need you to listen to me, okay?”

You nod and blink your eyes open to meet hers.

“I love you and you being afraid of the dark is not going to change that. Nyctophobia is a very real fear and your age does not invalidate your feelings like you think it does. Everyone is scared of something, some just hide it better, but that doesn’t make you any less normal.”

“Do you have any fears?”

Your voice is barely above a whisper and for a few moments there’s no answer until finally, Regina speaks up, her voice level matching yours. “Being forgotten.”

You furrow your brows, looking at Regina in confusion. She has athazagoraphobia? Of all the possible fears she could’ve said, you never would’ve expected her to have a social fear, but when you think about it, it makes sense. Everyone bows down to her and follows everything she does so you think it’s natural she’d be nervous about such a thing. Not to mention, her father’s a dick who left her and her mother and sister to have a new family and never spoke to them again like they never even mattered to him; like she never even mattered to him.

Asshole.

You take Regina’s hand in yours and bring it to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her skin. “I’d never forget you, Regina.”

Regina giggles, wiping away the single tear that managed to escape. “I know, Princess, thank you. Now, why don’t you go wash those dried tears away, hm?”

You do so, the cool water against your heated skin making you sigh in relief, and when you emerge from the bathroom, your lips part in shock at the golden galaxy strewn across the ceiling from the night light projector sitting atop Regina’s dresser. A smile spreads across your face at the sight and you can’t help the happy tears that appear in the corner of your eyes as you gaze up in awe, a small laugh escaping because you know she took this from Kylie’s room so you could be comfortable.

Regina’s waiting for you in bed and you crawl in next to her, falling into her waiting arms. You lay your head on her chest, her heart beating soothingly in your ears while her fingers run lightly up and down your side, pulling a gentle sigh from you as your eyes begin to flutter. “Thank you for this, Regina,” you murmur. “I love you.”

Regina presses a kiss to your temple and the last thing you hear before sleep claims you is her soft, “I love you too, Princess.”

#regina george #regina george x fem!reader #regina x fem!reader #regina george 2024 #regina george x reader #regina george x female reader #mean girls 2024

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saekkas · 1 year

Text

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄

summary: in which you need to wrestle your boyfriend, michael kaiser, out of his bed to fulfil a promise- re dye his hair.

notes: it's meant to be a continuation of this fic but you can read it as a standalone too! 2.1k words for my favorite german pomeranian <3

germany is beautiful. in all seasons and weather, even with rain and snow pelting down the windows. the bread and sausages make amazing breakfast items, the beer is pleasantly warm, and the sight of castles and palaces all around the country make you feel like a princess. your favorite though, is when spring comes around.

spring blows away the last dregs of winter. there are puddles from melted snow all over the station, sweaters are still needed because of the chilly air, and christmas decorations still litter around town square, ready to be replaced by the eggs of easter. it's when mother nature reappears, pushing winter away for another half year.

coincidentally, it's michael kaiser's least favorite time of the year.

"you don't love me anymore, do you?" he dramatically sobs into your neck, his hands holding onto your body for dear life. "you're moving away to break up with me, aren't you?"

his duvets feel like clouds. made out of the softest material, you find it hard to haul yourself out of the room every day. his sheets are made of silk, a beautiful rose gold in hue, and his bed is enormous, framed by mahogany wood on all sides. kaiser's bedroom is heaven on earth, and you've got your personal angel lying in the middle of it all.

"you've finally found someone better, haven't you?" he asks once more, his eyes peeking from your chest. his hair is a mess, the blue streaks already fading out to match the rest of his hair, there are dark circles surrounding his eyes, and he's got patches of drool in the corner of his lips. but you don't think he's ever looked more ethereal than this.

"who is it?" there's a pout on his lips, his eyes still drowsy from sleep. you watch with a smile of your own, taking in his fluttering eyelashes, your faces close enough to count every last one. "is it a guy from china that you met in hawaii? is he prettier than me? richer? is that why you're leaving me for him?"

"what are you even talking about, silly?" even when you roll your eyes, the smile stays, and you look at him with every bit of fondness in your body. "you're the only pretty boy for me. you know that."

his lips stretch out into a dopey smile, an uncontained giggle spilling from his lips. there's a certain giddiness in his motions, as if he couldn't contain his feelings inside his body. you watch with amusement as he kicks his feet, accidentally pushing pillows out of the bed.

"mhm. i know. just wanted to hear you say it," he hums, going back to nuzzling your tummy. he mumbles incoherently against your shirt before yanking the fabric up, burrowing his face onto your bare skin. "love you, pretty."

"were you out drinking last night?" you shake your head, squealing when he blows against your bare skin. "i thought i could trust ness to keep you out of trouble."

"i wasn't drinking." he's back to his whiny state, both of his hands tightening on your waist. there's a glare this time, his lips twisting back into a pout. "you shouldn't trust ness. trust me instead."

sunlight bleeds into the room, soft and serene as they bypass the curtains. a ray bounces off the mirror on kaiser's vanity, one he specifically added just for you, and makes its way to his face, bathing him in a dreamy glow. the reflection of light turns his eye into an icy blue, stealing your breath. he looks divine.

you take him in, as much as he does you. there's a muted sound from traffic, and the chatter of birds but in the moment, nothing else matters except you and him. his frown deepens after a moment of silence and you chuckle, relenting as you thread your hands into his hair.

"love you too, baby."

if there's anything you've learned from dating him through years, it's that your boyfriend absolutely loathes it when you fail to respond to his declarations of love. another thing, is that he becomes clingier and far more possessive when spring comes, dreading every moment he has to be away from you for matches.

it's seen in the way he's holding your body tighter, preventing you from moving an inch off the bed. he's pouty, lips twisted downward because it's the last day he has you to himself before he's called back to the field. it's on days like this that you smother him until he can't shake away the ghost of your lips around his body, even in the middle of a match.

"gonna let me move anytime soon?" the hand on his head moves to glide down his neck, stroking the sensitive skin around the back of his ear. you watch as he moans, his eyes snapping shut at the touch. "mein kaiser?"

"wenn du so weitermachst." his voice is low, his heart beating faster as he moves from his previous position to hover above you with half lidded eyes. "du wirst dich überhaupt nicht bewegen können, liebling."

translation: if you continue to be like this, you won't be able to move at all, darling.

you suppose there's a reason he's down on earth rather than above. michael kaiser may have the looks of an angel but he acts like the devil.

he's looking down at you with a dangerous glint in his eyes, as if ready to eat you alive. you gulp, eyes roaming down the expanse of his chest before they land on the necklace dangling by his neck. the ring it holds is 24 carats, gold, with roman numerals of your anniversary date engraved on the inside. it matches with the diamond encrusted promise ring on your finger, gleaming in the shade of his eyes.

you tug the necklace, pulling him until you're nose-to-nose. you shiver at the way his eyes darken even more, his lips quirking into a smirk. "who knew you were so naughty, liebling," he hums, pushing your knees apart to slot himself between your legs. "who taught you, hm?"

"you did," you say before lifting the ring to your lips, kissing it with a small smile. he shudders at the intimacy of the action. "you also taught me not to break my promises, right?"

kaiser raises an eyebrow at the direction you're taking this. he's got you on the bed, flushed, under him. to him, the only promise worth thinking about right now is the promise of intimacy and pleasure.

"i promised to dye your hair, remember?" you lean forward, this time pressing a kiss onto your beloved. "you can do whatever you want to me after we're done."

he groans, letting himself drop on your body. he giggles when you groan at his weight, his face flushing at your words. "whatever i want. that's a promise too, right?" the whisper of his voice against your ear is delightful, and you nod where you're pressed against his shoulder. "i hope you intend to keep that one too, liebling~"

he waits for a moment, savoring your warmth until you start to squirm. laughing, he hovers over you once more to press a kiss on your forehead before scooting over to make room for you to move. "gonna let me use your mask?" he grins widely when you nod, rushing over to the bathroom.

but not before stripping off his night tee and chucking it straight at your head, laughing like a mad man when you throw his beloved stuffed panda at his back in retaliation.

your boyfriend has always been restless. he's never shown much patience, and you should've known that re-dyeing his hair was going to be a hassle. "hold still, mikka." your tone is scolding but not stern, your eyebrows furrowed in concentration to make sure the dye doesn't spill. "i need to make sure you look pretty."

he stops squirming at the nickname, a mischievous smile spreading on his lips as he places a hand on your hip. "you should call me mikka more often, it's cute." he looks up from his position, seated on a chair and facing your front, and wiggles his eyebrows at you. "not only when you want something."

"yeah?" you hum, distracted by the strands of his hair in your hand. you grasp at it with gloves, sectioning to thinner pieces before using a brush to smear the color in. it comes out decently and you grin in satisfaction before moving onto another strand. "glad you like it. it suits you."

kaiser stays unmoving, not even answering back like he's supposed to. concerned with the sudden silence, you look down only to be greeted by a blinding his smile. you quirk an eyebrow, smiling at him in question. "what?"

"you're so cute." he tries to shake his head, stopping when you send him a glare. the hand on your hip squeezes at the fat in affection, his eyes shining even against the brightly lit bathroom. "ich liebe dich, liebling."

"very romantic of you," you say with a roll of your eyes. you store away the bowl of blue hair dye in your hand, leaning down to press a kiss. you feel him hum against your lips, his smile widening from the kiss as he pulls you closer. "i love you too, mikka. even when you won't sit still."

"are you done yet?" he asks with wide eyes, the sight of his puppy eyes looking at you from below sending butterflies to your stomach. "can i look?"

"mhm. go ahead." you step back, making room for him to face the mirror. you watch over his shoulder as he examines his newly re dyed hair, the blue strands at the bottom a contrast to his pale blond. you were getting used to the full head of blond, getting used to having mikka all to yourself. now you've got to share him with the world again as michael kaiser makes his comeback on the field.

"you like it?"

"i love it and i love you."

"maybe we should try another color next time. like purple or pink," you say before giggling at the way his face lights up at the suggestion. you eye him in curiosity when he turns to look at you with a proud grin.

he moves quicker than you expect, grabbing your waist and setting you on the bathroom vanity. he pushes you against the mirror, planting a searing kiss on your lips. you feel him smirk against your lips as his hands move to trail down your waist, settling on your thighs.

"there. a thank you kiss for my little genius," he says, breathless from the exchange, a wicked gleam in his eyes that you're wary of. he leans his forehead against yours, pressing a kiss to your nose. "one 'i'm sorry' kiss too."

"what for-" you're about to question him but a sigh interrupts your words, one that comes from the feeling of wet hair dye trickling down your neck and clothes.

you glare as he presses another kiss in apology. "i'm sorry."

"no, you're not," you snort at the teasing smile on his face. "now i have to go bathe."

he perks up, "want me to join-"

"no."

bonus:

"you really are pretty, mikka." glancing at the mirror from behind him, you watch with fascination as kaiser pushes a hello kitty hairband onto his head. it's yours, one you bought as a pair with his pink panther one. surprisingly, he likes this one more. "the prettiest."

you watch him nod to his own reflection, seemingly agreeing with your words. his newly dried hair bobs along with the motion, the strands fluffy and smooth. you'd run your hands through if you hadn't just spent the last half hour styling it.

"your prettiest-"

"-like a german pomeranian."

"...what?"

"nothing!" you laugh at the disgruntled expression he wears, shaking your head. hoping to appease him before the whining ensues, you hand him a small container filled with matcha facemask. his favorite to wear because it does wonders for his skin.

he looks at the thing as if it's offended his entire lineage. "you're seriously going to bribe me with this?" he pouts, crossing his hands against his chest.

such a big baby. your big baby, though.

"what's wrong? pomeranians are cute!"

"yeah but i'd be more of a husky," he grumbles as he pushes the pink panther hairband onto your head, clearing any hair away from your face. he uses a brush to smear the mask across, stopping every so often to peck your lips. "they're handsome, strong, and expensive."

"high maintenance, too," you mumble under your breath before shrugging. "i just like pomeranians better," you grin, scrunching your nose when he finishes with a kiss on it.

"...fine. german pomeranian it is then."

#blue lock x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock fluff #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser imagines #kaiser x reader #kaiser imagines #michael kaiser fluff #michael kaiser x y/n #michael kaiser x you #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #blue lock headcanons #kaiser fluff

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 10 months

Text

Run Away To Me (II)

AU MASTERLIST || PART III

PAIRING: Blacksmith!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Runaway Bride!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.5k

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, medieval period-esc standards for women, arranged marriage, toxic family dynamic/relationship, intentional harm (in the recent past), blood, angst, protective Johnny, hurt/comfort, pining, speedy relationship, etc.

A/N: Johnny sweaty and working the forge...that is all.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You groggily awoke to the steady sound of a hammer meeting metal and the scent of eggs. Warm bread makes your mouth water. Eyelids peeling back, your lashes flutter in even intervals as you groan in the back of your throat, content and unbothered in this soft bed of fur and cotton. For a moment you had forgotten everything that had transpired—the run and the rain slamming into your scalp.

Had it all been some dark dream? A trick?

“Ow!” You hiss, hand darting out from the plush covers as a sharp pain darts through it. Your eyes blink on the bloody bandages, white now completely bled through with fresh crimson.

Everything comes rushing back in a lightning-strike moment of realization.

Quickly sitting up, your face moves all over the sun-lit room, rays of light leaking in through the opened shutters; past the glass of the windows, the nearly violent green of the near forest line meets your wide gaze. A small sound exits your throat, fingers sliding through the bear fur that had been once pulled up to your ears as you gather your senses.

Johnny. The blacksmith.

Your eyes lock onto the small table across the room.

As the hammering outside continues to ring in your eardrums, you tilt your head at the items sitting atop—slipping off the bed you go to tidy the fur but pause in your curiosity. A patch of blood from your wound stains the sheets and you slow at the sight, the air leaving your lungs.

“Oh,” you swallow down your slight nervousness, heart jumping for a moment as you bite your lip.

You would have to tell Mr. MacTavsish—your brows furrow.

Not Mr. MacTavish, he asked me to call him Johnny. A strange thing, now that you thought about it as you slowly back away and go to the table, gut rumbling at the sight of fresh eggs on bread. There was also a parcel covered in cloth sitting on the chair.

Carefully tiptoeing, you grab the plate with a delicate hand, picking it up as you lick your lips. Had the man…made you breakfast?

“What reality have I slipped into?” Your lips whisper, Johnny’s clothes hanging off of you heavily. Not only food but milk had been poured into a carved cup as well, and utensils placed on the table with care. Fork and knife on the right, spoon on the left; all forged and tempered.

It was sweet, perhaps. Kind.

You eat standing, bare feet taking you around the homestead as you listen to the blacksmith work outside. Your hands take up carved knick-knacks of animals, twirling them in a hand as you lick your lips before placing them back with all the care of a priceless possession. Chuckling at the poorly wooden face of a deer, you bring the last bits of food to your lips as you pass the window.

Sucking in a swift breath, your body freezes.

Perhaps it was the sudden freedom of your situation or even the want of true, honest, companionship, but you had suddenly never seen someone look as good as kind Johnny MacTavish as he worked his forge.

The earth was still layered in dew and mist, the distance between the main home and the small hut that was holding anvil, tongs, the flame of the furnace itself, and a great number of hammers. One of which was being wielded with firm efficiency by the sweat-stained hands of Johnny—being brought down again and again to the molten form of what would be a fine sword.

Clothed in a rolled-back white tunic, like the one from yesterday, and brown breaches, there was a leather apron tied ‘round his waist cinched tight. Lips parting, you watch with a guilty conscious for the frailness of your resolve; gaping at the sight.

Johnny works like the dead might rise, not faltering or slowing in the abuse of the metal—twisting the rough shape of the blade and flipping it with one hand while the other hammers. How he doesn’t overheat you’d never know; letting out a slow breath as the sweat slips down his strong jaw and drips from his chin, mouth open with a far-off pant of air.

Electricity of the same breed as last night sizzles down your spine like a finger caressing the knobs of bone, hairs standing on end as you quickly clear your throat against the burn of your face. You shift your body away, fearfully aware of the scent of Johnny’s clothes and the very bed you had slept in last night.

“My parents will never allow me back into their home,” you utter, picking at your bandages. “I shall never even be seen in the very air near them.”

But the true question was whether or not that was a good thing. While this freedom of yours was what you wanted, you were a woman of relative standing—having no family, no husband, and no money to your name was not ideal. In fact, it could very well be the death of you.

You stand and lightly lick your fingers of crumbs. “At the very least,” the wood under your feet is warm from an only recently dead hearth, “this Blacksmith is quite good with meals. Such a peculiar man, hm?”

Smiling to yourself, you chuckle and push back the heat in your blood; this odd attraction to a working man. So different from Lord Wilkin.

Not wanting to sink back into that hole quite yet, you remember Johnny’s hands slipping over yours as you take a final glance back out the window before heading back over to the table. Cobalt eyes meet yours in an instant of wide shyness through the glass.

Staring at each other, the Blacksmith's legs shift from where they dig into the packed ground, large biceps tight as they hold the hammer and the dulling metal.

Blinking quickly, you feel your heart skip beats at the soft contact.

Smiling awkwardly, you raise the empty plate in display, chuckling as a wide, pleased, grin builds on Johnny’s face. He mocks a small bow, hammer going across his abdomen as his dirty cheeks peel back at his glee—you see his chest move with a deep laugh. Like the scent of lavender in your nose, you can call the sound of it to your ears as if he was in the house all this time.

Quickly skittering away, you feel giddy, placing down your plate and taking a sip of milk before looking at the parcel. While your mind may be mingling with the blacksmith and the sweat of his body, curiosity was getting to you. And, mayhaps, a shyness at being caught.

It was covered in dark cloth, and when you touch it, the fabric immediately reminds you of a cloak—an expensive and finely spun wool dyed green. Lips parting, your hands pick it up and place it on the table; turning it over as you pull at the twine tie.

Your heart seems to grow like a flower, the pedals opening and the stem becoming strong with a rush of admiration.

“When did you do this, Blacksmith?” Your voice hits off the walls in a breathy gasp as the hammering picks back up outside.

Smiling delicately, you pick up the fine linen of a chemise and the paired kirtle dyed deep blue. It wasn’t the most extravagant thing you’d worn by a long shot but as you step back and size it to your body, you decide that it was the most meaningful.

When had he gotten up to ride into town and buy this for you? How much did it cost?

How could this blacksmith be as chivalrous as a Knight? Not wanting you to be forced to wear his own clothes in a way unflattering to your status even if you didn’t truly care about all of that.

You had no answer, body vibrating with warmth as you slipped out of Johnny’s sleep clothes and slid the gifted items over your skin. They were slightly oversized for ease of the man’s mind, not knowing your measurements. With a small bronze clip, you situate the cloak before the boots at the door add to the already bursting emotions in your veins.

Tears burned the back of your eyes, putting your fingers to your lips to hide the shaky inhale. All of this care after such horror was nearly unthinkable; by a complete stranger no less.

Your own family had never been so generous.

Taking up your now empty cup, you look to the water basin and let your ears twitch to the sound of physical labor; thinking, wanting to give even just a sliver of thanks back for this debt. As you lace your new boots, leather, you keep the memory of his calloused hands in the front of your skull with honied sanctity.

You fill the cup and that’s that.

Cheeks heating, you bring the water with you as you exit the home, breathing down the scent of rain and pulling your cloak tighter to your neck at the slight chill. Closing the door, you make your way to Johnny who continues to work away, now a small distance from the anvil and setting the iron back into the fire to heat.

His large back flexes and rolls with the movement.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” the cup stays steady in your two hands as you see Johnny’s muscles momentarily tense, blue eyes turning to look over his shoulders. There’s a moment where something swirls in his eyes as he stares down at your new clothes, standing up to his full height quickly. You blink. “...I’m sorry, but besides an offer of fresh water I’m unable to repay you for the gifts.”

“Ah,” Johnny clears his throat, looking back to his forge before turning back to you with a bashful look. “Please, none of that. I needed to go off and grab more grain for my horse, see.” He chuckles. “But I’m glad they fit, Dearie, was a bit worried I’d asked the wrong size.”

“They’re perfect,” you shake your head. “It was…far more than I deserve.”

Brows furrow. For such a presence, he slips the cup out of your hands with more care than your husband-to-be had ever thought to handle you, nodding a deep thank you.

“Now why would you say something like that?” Your head tilts, lips thinning. You suppose it was right to make good on the deal you’d struck last night.

Johnny takes a sip from the cup, waiting for your answer as one hand hangs from the neck of his apron, fast lungs steadily slowing. As you frown and gather your thoughts, you don’t notice his eyes narrowing, concerned.

“Well, anyways,” he clears his throat, itching at his stubble to change the subject as you startle back to reality before you can form a sentence. “I suppose I’d better take a look at that cut of yours, then, eh? Wouldn’t want it to get infected, do we?”

“That’s not…” He has already darted to a small chest in the corner of the open hut, cup placed on the anvil top before he opens the thing with a scratch of rusty hinges. “...necessary.”

The blacksmith laughs, taking out fresh badges.

“I don’t think gettin’ bedridden is in your plans, now is it? C’mon…I’ll be gentle.” Johnny winks with a smirk and your pulse flares; stuttering as he grasps your elbow—leading you out of the forge and to a small break in the trees.

A stump and a dead firepit take form, and you’re plopped down to the wood with a small huff, a stiff look sent to the man who only smiles and raises an eyebrow.

“Is my kindness wearin’ ya down, Little Lady?”

“You’ll make me lose my head and I’ve only known you for, at most,” you emphasize as he kneels down and takes your bloody hand, “half a day.”

“Being generous,” Johnny hums, unwrapping your hand and once again looking you over. Bloody, but still alright. His fingers move to pick up dew from the grass and wipe away some of the crimson pigment as if an artist. “When one goes and nearly makes a man’s house crumble from the force of ‘er fists, it’s only customary for him to respect her.” Blue eyes gaze up to you and twinkle. “I’m just savin’ my own hide.”

“How honorable,” you shake your head and turn to hide the full-face grin, moments later laughs slip your tongue. “They weren’t that loud,” your vise insists, “...were they?”

“Thought the world was ending,” Johnny says it was a fake expression of seriousness, re-wrapping your hand in clean cloth. “Damn near got to my knees and prayed.”

You find great amusement in that, placing a hand over your mouth as your spine shakes with loud laughs. The scene is similar to the one from last night—the blacksmith offering jokes and merriment to get you to laugh. It's as if every time he succeeds he smiles just a smidge wider. Realizing this, you feel your lips twitch and you look away, embarrassed.

“...I promised you answers, did I not?” You decide to ask, deciding that getting this over soon was the best course of action; also the more courteous one. After so much giving, you had to share at least the reason for all of this. “I’m sorry.” Johnny frowns at you, tying another loose knot atop your palm before sitting back on the ground.

On his bent knee, he rests his arm, hanging off loosely, while the other hand rests behind his back as a way to keep him upward. With all of this, with him, you'd entirely forgotten to mention the stained sheets.

“There’s no need to apologize to me, Dearie, I won’t do anythin’. I promised you,” he smiles, “remember?” You blink softly at his strong face, those eyes studying you as your hands rest in your lap; curled over each other.

“There’ll be no harm comin’ to ya as long as you stay under my roof.”

Johnny huffs a chuckle, shaking his head. “Take your time, eh? I won’t be needin’ to travel back into town again until late evening.” Your hands curl slightly tighter, touched.

The blacksmith watches you as you gather your thoughts, your face going stiff and new boots shuffling over the grass. Blue slides to your hand and his lips turn down.

He’d be lying if he didn’t say he’d been up most of the night and working before the sun had risen—mind occupied by the woman that had been in his bed and the little information he had. Obviously, Lord Wilkin was looking for you; adamantly.

Relentlessly.

When he’d been in town there had been guards everywhere, checking every shop and house like beasts of metal and sharp words. You were the Lord’s bride, of course. As the tailor had asked him, a bit dejected, if he’d taken a wife as he’d bought you your chemise and kirtle, the woman had mentioned the wedding.

“Little thing darted off during the Handfasting ceremony, I ‘erd. The Lord had only just put the knife to her palm before she yelled and fled. Oh, ya should have seen it, Mr. MacTavish. Like a bat from Hell, Lord help me. He’ll not stop till he’s found ‘er.”

Johnny’s stomach rolls, abdomen tightening as he shifts to release tension. Along the ground, his hand momentarily clenches. You hum under your breath, whispering out an easy, “Are we sure we should be outside for this?”

The man blinks in confusion.

“Well, would…you prefer being inside?” You look nervous, fingers flinching over themselves and Johnny sits up straighter, letting his large hand carefully grasp your knee. Your innocently wide eyes lock with his own. He offers a comforting look. “It’s no difference to me—you decide. Whichever’s easier, eh?”

“It’s just,” you begin, the skin below your kirtle burning you in the best possible way. What was happening to you? “Well…My family rarely let me out.” Johnny’s body stills to a near stone carving. “Said I was to stay inside. I suppose I’m not overly used to it, you see.”

It’s not impossible to understand the role that was placed on you. Arranged marriage, sold off to be a housewife for a large dowry paid up by the Lord. You’d been brought up to be tossed away at a moment's notice. The blacksmith’s jaw tightens, bone sharp through the flesh.

“...Well,” his voice is a bit ragged—scratchy. You listen with nervousness in your chest, a slow infection of unease. “I’m not your family, am I? It’ll be good to get some sun, I think—let’s stay here for a little longer and then we can go back in when you’re ready. There’s no rush to things.”

Letting you calm down, his thumb rubs a small circle before he pulls it away, perhaps realizing what he was doing before clearing his throat, cheeks alight.

A small breeze pushes through the pines, a wind filled with the scent of fire and earth—dirt and dew. It was peaceful here, among the old spirits and the hidden trails. So different in the light than it was in the pouring rain.

“I imagine you knew about the wedding?” You sigh, staring at your lap. “Lord Wilkin?”

“Aye,” Johnny nods, speaking quietly. He doesn’t want to force you. “I did.”

“I was placed into the marriage two months ago by my parents, an agreement of land and money was traded for my hand.” Watching, the man’s eyes go sad, lids tilting. He stops the grunt in the back of his throat as you continue. “I had resigned myself to it, truly. Being of enough standing all I was needed for was marriage—”

“That’s utter shite.” Johnny growls, angry at the sentence. “They would just toss you away like that? To a bastard ten times your age?”

You stare, brows tight. “I…I’m a daughter, am I not?”

Johnny’s jaw goes slack, eyes sharp with horror as his gaze looks deeply into your vision, biceps tense with cooling sweat and dirt. Such a sight it was, two beings as different as a mountain and a valley; so near but starkly contrasted in the harsh strength of rock and the gentle sway of grassy low-land. Bears and deer, barn swallows that sit on rafters and golden eagles that soar tempests.

The dark-haired man could never imagine raising a girl for nothing else than to be a man’s property—to sell as if a good and nothing more. Johnny turns his head away before he snaps at nothing, a low sound trapped in his chest. You never had a single choice.

Confused by his approach to this, you watch the side of his face as the man’s expression of anger slowly shifts back to a hidden seriousness. Eyes dark and his hand tightened into a fist.

“I’m sorry, Dearie. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” Johnny blinks, shaking his head. “Hope I didn’t scare ya.”

“No,” you motion a hand. “No, not at all.”

“Good.” He sighs, rubbing at the back of his head. “Ah, please, keep going. I’ll be quiet as a mouse, promise.” You smile tinily.

“At the wedding, when it was near the end, they brought out the cloth and the knife for the Handfasting ceremony,” Johnny leans forward, and you look down at him on the ground. He lent a sort of silent vigor, you think to yourself. A comfort. “He dragged it along my skin and then he gripped my hand and forced the base of my palm harder into it.”

Your words get smaller and hushed, flexing your damaged hand. “...I think…that he wanted it to leave a scar. I bolted off before they could tie the cloth.”

Johnny stands and brings you into a hug, a hand coming to the back of your head and pressing your skull gently to his chest.

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus.” He breathes, and you slowly wind your own hands around his waist; melting into him without even knowing it. Johnny’s scent encompasses you like a blanket, and your very bones seem to sprout flowers from the marrow as your eyes get watery, held in such a way that most people only dream about.

When the first silent tears fall he doesn’t make a big deal out of it—only holds you more firm and sighs into your scalp.

“I don’t know what to do,” you whisper, honest and truthful. Could you run? Go to another fiefdom? How far would you even be able to make it? No food, no horse, no supplies.

You’d be found out in no time.

Johnny moves back, tilting his head down to you and grasping your face with a single hand. “We’ll figure it out, Little Lady. By my word, I’ll do what I can to make sure you’ll never go back to that bastard of a Lord again.” A hard thumb pushes back your tears and blue eyes soften on you. “Can you trust me?”

Can and not do.

Even the simple alleviation of pressure from a word makes you care for this man even more than you should. The simmering attraction to not only his appearance but his steadfast heart; indomitable morals.

“You, Johnny?” You sniffle, a grin twitching your lips up as the blacksmith’s face goes hot. “Yes, I can trust you.” Actions enough from last night had proven that.

Johnny huffs and lets the blush on his face spread along his neck, suddenly unable to look you in the eyes for too long before he has to clear his throat and gaze to the side. Not knowing what overtakes you, you lightly press your lips to his cheek—feeling the heat and the slight gasp that escapes his lips.

You giggle as he grunts a thanks, awkwardly shuffling on his feet as you both continue to hold one another. His grip travels down to your back as he raises a brow, trying to push past his beginning stutter as he speaks. “I’d tell ya that if you do that again, I might just have a fainting spell, Miss.”

“A fainting spell,” you tease, “from a kiss, Blacksmith?”

“Aye—especially if it’s from such a Bonnie woman like you, see.” You both laugh, faces burning up, as serious topics and tears fade into the past.

As you had said, where any other man would have been different, Johnny Mactavish had proven himself to be right and true. Even if you’d been impossibly tired last night, the small sliver of fear had still remained that something might happen to you here; in the presence of one man in the middle of the woods. No such fear remains.

Like a great Lord of old, Johnny had offered sanctuary from a man of cruel and horrible intentions. But perhaps he’d offered far more than that, with how he’s staring at you.

Your laughs steadily die down to a pulsing silence, hands around one another and faces only a few inches away. It’s bizarre how fast this had happened—these feelings brimming in the cup of your heart. A bowl overflowing with care and affection; of something else that cannot be named for fear it’s only a simple infatuation. A twin flame of red-hot fire that could rival Johnny’s forge.

“I…don’t want to overstep,” the man says, and your eyes are drawn to his lips as they move—a small scar you’d yet to notice living on his chin, a stain of lighter flesh. You swallow stiffly and dart your gaze back to his as you feel his heart pounding in his ribcage. It wasn’t a mystery to wonder if your own is doing the same. “Y’should tell me to stop, Dearie.”

“To stop what,” you pull the words from the depths of your throat. “What are you planning on doing, Johnny?” He shivers as you say his name as if put under a spell.

“Are you sure you’re not a witch, now?” You stifle a confused laugh, furrowing your brows with amusement.

“What?”

“One half-day is all it took for you to chain me to your will,” he grasps the bottom of your chin and angles your head up; you go willingly. His eyes search yours for any hesitation or flighty emotions. All he finds is wide awe. “Most would call that witchery, Little Lady.”

“Then it seems your will is easily broken, Blacksmith.”

“Perhaps it is,” Johnny smirks, his breath puffing out along your parted lips. Your body vibrates with anticipation of what was to come, hearing his voice lower to a deep rasp. “Haven’t ya heard…? Blacksmiths have a weakness for runaway brides.”

“Is that so? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Suppose I’ll just have to show you.” His lips are firm and his body runs hot.

Eyes fluttering shut, you sigh into him as his hands dig into your gifted cloak, meeting him with every pass. Low purrs of satisfaction echo from his chest and make you shiver, nose pressing into his lower cheek. Playfully, his teeth nip at your flesh and you gasp; eyes pulling back to stare half-lidded as blue sparks with mischief.

You should stop this—but you were starved for honest affection. Companionship, even. Johnny by far wasn’t the worst to throw your lott in with and he might just be the best possible to fill that role. Life in this era is fast and harsh; it’s unfair. You had to make quick decisions without thinking of the possible consequences.

So as you blink up at the man who watches you closely, you place your fingers on the side of his face and tilt his lips back to yours with a small smile. His hand at the curve of your spine twitches, sliding along the cloak in minute increments as Johnny’s heart hammers like his tools.

It’s as if the forge was still around the two of you—air hot and the feeling sticking to your skin like a brand of sin and forbidden magnetism. He shouldn’t have kissed you, but the hypnosis of the hammer was in his head; its rhythm and striking slam. You drew him in as the anvil does the iron.

In this moment of contentment, there is a fast sound of something in the air, something that rattles the two of you out of your tender embrace to gaze with contorted faces through the thin line of trees. Panting and open.

Through the foliage back to the homestead is the rapid movement of hooves and the baying of hounds.

It strikes you like a knife, eyelids moving far back as Johnny’s head snaps to the noise with something growing in the back of his expression. Calls; shouts. You know who it is, who’s found you out. You’d never heard it until it was too late.

“Johnny,” your voice says, fearful with wild eyes.

“Stay behind me,” he says, monotone with red lips. Shadows of horses and guards are near the house. You stare up at him in shock. A kiss is pressed to your forehead. “Nothin’ll happen to you.” His eyes dig past layers.

There was no running from this.

“Okay,” you whisper.

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