#(it was the ONLY way to get even a MOMENTS relief from the pain)

[lessi-lover]

sickness strikes onces more II c.foord x k.mccabe

summary: you wake up sick this morning but you get taken care of ★ sickness strikes once more II k.mccabe x c.foord

you hadn't woken up feeling well this morning. it was something you couldn't quite figure out, but you could feel your face burning and your body ache from head to toe as you sat up in bed.

you tried to convince yourself that you were fine, mam says to mummy all the time that she is not feeling good and that her legs are sore, so why would are you any different? in fact you're exactly like your mam so why should you get an off day? mam never has an off day.

the night before you had felt your tummy begin to become a little sore, but you shrugged it off as something you maybe didn't like that you ate, although when you felt the ache spread to your head you decided that you might have been a little dehydrated.

your mothers probably should have seen the tell tale signs that you were coming up with a little bug the previous night, but the two of them were so engrossed in preparing for the upcoming match that they had missed the way you pushed your dinner plate away in pain, or the absence of you trying to convince them to let you go to bed later.

you groaned when you heard the birds outside chirp obnoxiously, it was unlike any other day because usually you would jump out of bed to watch them out the window, but you couldn't bring yourself to even cover your ears this morning.

"cheeky? are you feeling alright?" your mummy asked you, eyeing you suspiciously as you hadn't even noticed her enter your bedroom, only looking up when you felt her hand rest against your quickly fevering forehead.

"hot." you mumbled and caitlin would have missed it if she wasn't looking at you so worriedly. "oh cheeky." she frowned, brushing the loose strands of sweaty hair out of your face. you see the troubled look replace your mam's bright smile when she approaches you.

"what's wrong baby girl? you feeling okay?" her finger swiping away a few tears that you hadn't even noticed slide down your usually happy face. your head was pounding, your face felt hot and sticky, and you could feel the sweat connecting uncomfortably from your pyjamas to your skin.

"cheeky your foreheads burning up." katie says as she peels off your winter socks and pulls up your pyjama pants. your boiling up so fast that somehow your top has ridden up, your stomach heating up and turning a warm peach colour.

caitlin and katie share a look over your quickly heating up body. you had only been to preschool three days this week, but it's winter now and they pawn it off as a bug you had caught from another kid in your class that probably went in with small symptoms their parents hadn't worried too much about.

you're pretty out of it, and you’re not entirely sure what’s happening around you. the room feels like it’s spinning slightly, and the presence of your mother's hands swiping the small layer of sweat off your forehead is the only thing grounding you.

the cool air against your feverish skin only providing a brief moment of relief from the hot flush running up your spine.

by now you've settled down from the hyper aware child you were when your mumma came in to get you for preschool and you're content enough to let katie feed you the medicine she had run downstairs to retrieve.

"here, this should be a bit cooler cait."

she says, offering a small smile that doesn't quite reach her worried eyes. she hands the top to caitlin who nods as she helps you sit up and carefully peels off your top, replacing it with a lighter singlet she had gotten from the cupboard. it feels like her nature to take care of all your needs when she knows you aren't feeling well, but she can't help but worry because you rarely ever get ill.

your mam is already back in her bathroom, getting more medicine that she would be strictly giving to you at every hour, waiting for a small sneeze from your little body to drop everything and nurse you back to health.

"how about some water, sweetheart?" your mumma asks, already reaching for the glass on your bedside table. you nod weakly, and she helps you take a few small sips, the cool liquid soothing your dry hoarse throat.

katie sits down on the bed beside you, her hand resting on your arm, gently rubbing small circles into the flushed skin. "we should have noticed sooner," she murmurs, more to herself than to anyone else because your still distracted by the tickle in your throat. "i'm sorry, baby girl."

you lean into her hand, seeking comfort of having your skin on hers. "it's okay, mam," you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "i should have told you sooner i wasn't feeling good."

as you settle back against your pillows, your mothers fussing around you, you can feel the ache in your body starting to subside just a bit. the care they're showering you with makes you feel a little better, even though you’re still feeling quite miserable.

you manage a small smile, feeling grateful for how your mothers have taken care of you, even when they have training which they haven't yet called in to miss yet. "thank you," you whisper, your voice a little stronger now.

caitlin leans down and kisses your forehead, her smile warm and relieved. "anything for you, cheeky. always.

[crystalcerberus]

Boothill x Fem!Reader – Period Relief

Boothill Taking Care of a Female Reader with Period Pain

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow from the bedside lamp casting gentle shadows across the walls. Boothill sat on the edge of the bed, his expression a mix of concern and determination as he looked at you. You lay curled up, clutching your abdomen, the pain of your period almost unbearable.

"Can’t you just shoot me? Or at least cut out my womb?" you half-joked, half-pleaded, a grimace on your face.

His expression immediately turned serious and worried. He knew you were feeling frustrated and in pain, but the thought of you wanting to harm yourself like that alarmed him. He gently turned you around so that you were facing him. He took your face in his hands and made you look directly into his eyes.

"Doll, don’t talk like that. Don’t ever think about doin’ somethin’ like that, okay? I ain’t gonna let you hurt yourself like that, you hear me?"

You sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and resignation. "Thank you."

He held your gaze for a moment longer, his hands still on your face. He wanted to make sure you understood the seriousness of his words. Then, his expression softened, and a gentle smile formed on his face.

"You’re welcome, doll. Just don’t you ever talk like that again, alright? I don’t wanna hear nothin’ about you hurtin’ yourself. You’re worth too much to even think about somethin’ like that. Understand?"

You nodded slightly, trying to hold back tears. "sigh I don’t want this anymore. I don’t want to suffer every month!"

His expression turned sympathetic as he heard your sob and your frustrated words. He knew that periods could be painful and uncomfortable, and he could see how much they affected you.

"I know, darlin’. I know it ain’t fun. It sucks goin’ through it every single month. But you’re a strong lil thing, ain’t ya? You ain’t gonna let a lil thing like this get the best of ya, huh?"

"But what’s the point if I’m gonna suffer again the next month?"

He paused for a moment, his hand hovering over your lower abdomen. He could hear the resignation in your voice, the defeated tone of your words. He took a deep breath before speaking again, his tone gentle yet firm.

"Darlin’, there’s always gonna be somethin’ that’ll cause you pain. Ain’t no way around it. But that doesn’t mean you gotta give up."

You groaned, frustration evident in your voice. "Why can’t I just be a cyborg like you? Then I'd never have this pain ever again!"

Boothill's expression turned serious, his eyes hardening slightly. "Believe me, doll. You don’t want this. Being a cyborg ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. Sure, you won’t have to deal with nothin’ like this anymore, but you’ll miss out on a lot of things, too. Things that make you human. Things that make you you!"

He began to rub your lower abdomen in slow, circular motions, his touch gentle yet firm. "You gotta be strong. You gotta keep goin’."

You scoffed lightly, trying to hold back a smile despite the pain.

He chuckled at your scoff, a hint of amusement in his expression.

He continued rubbing your lower abdomen, his touch soothing the worst of the cramps. The steady pressure helped ease the pain, if only a little.

You closed your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. "It still hurts, you know."

"I know, doll. But you’re strong. You’ll get through this, just like you always do."

You nodded, feeling a bit of the tension ease out of your body. Boothill’s presence, his words, and his touch made it a bit more bearable. You opened your eyes and met his gaze, a small smile playing on your lips.

"Thanks, Boothill. For being here."

"Always, darlin’. Always."

He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and reassuring. As he continued to comfort you, the pain seemed a little more manageable, and you felt a bit more at peace.

[romchat]

The Double (Ep. 32): You reap what you sow

I'm always riveted when I watch a Shen Yurong scene because not only does Liang Yongqi have electrifying chemistry with the actresses around him but my goodness do I LOVE how the show's visual storytelling reinforces what a pitiful man he is.

Framing, Blocking, Lighting

For example, this episode makes fantastic use of doors and other forms of architectural framing to show Yurong's fundamental flaw: his cowardice.

At the beginning of the episode, we see Fangfei gaze at two doorways, one that could lead to her future (Duke Su) and the other a painful reminder of the trauma Yurong has caused her. It's only when she recalls Duke Su's reassurance ("A'Li, from today onwards, there's no need to be afraid of anyone") that she's able to step forward and face her memories.

But when Yurong enters the hall and offers to open the door for her, suggesting he knows her true identity, Fangfei side-steps him and their blocking slowly changes. Fangfei now faces the light, her back to the door of their past.

They've never been quite aligned as husband and wife, and in this moment the gulf between them is even clearer.

Unlike Fangfei, who fights for survival and will no longer compromise what she believes in, Yurong refuses to see that he has always had a choice to fight for his conscience, regardless of how difficult it might be. His constant need to pass blame instead of choosing the path he knows is right has left him a pitiful shell of the vibrant scholar he once was and so he remains shrouded in the darkness of the hall.

SIDE NOTE #1: I love the parallels between Fangfei's argument with Yurong ("So, in your opinion, the crimes of your mother and sister don't need to be atoned for, while my innocence and grievances don't need to be compensated") and Grandmother Jiang's admonishment of Minister Jiang ("Can you really let this go?...You haven't fulfilled your responsibilities as a father for all these years"). Both are men who have failed their families--my heart broke when Yurong distinguished between Fangfei and his "family"--by choosing who they decide to protect.

Camera Angles

Ok, this scene has GOT to be one of my favorites from the whole show and so much of that is due to the way it plays with camera angles and the visual language of power.

In cinematography, low-angle and high-angle shots are often paired to visually enhance the power imbalance between characters. Low-angle shots make the subject look more powerful and threatening while high-angle shots make the subject look weaker and more vulnerable.

But in this particular scene, that visual relationship is subverted.

The scene starts with Yurong taunting Princess Wanning.

He is at such a low point after being accused of assaulting Fangfei that he embraces the idea of banishment or death. He is shot at a high angle with the Princess looming over him as usual but it's clear that at this moment he has reclaimed some power now that his all-consuming despair has liberated him from his fear.

When she tries to attack him, he pushes her back and then gets up to bow mockingly. It is he who is now shot from a low angle, signifying his dominance.

But then Princess Wanning seductively leans back in the straw. As they trade barbs, she is shot from a high angle but it's clear there has been another shift in power:

Yurong: Your highness, you don't have to save me. You've fooled me for so long, I'm sure you're bored of it. Princess Wanning: I'm not bored. Shen Yurong, in this world, I'm the only one who can decide how you die. Your life is in my hands.

As noted by @dangermousie, Yurong's lack of self-interest just "makes her more interested again, because someone broken is not her thing but someone who she can potentially break more?" And we can see the fear creep over his face again once he realizes that.

Regardless of the temporary relief he might have felt challenging her, it was all an illusion, as demonstrated by the constantly shifting meaning of the scene's camera angles to maintain her power within the scene. He is completely trapped now.

SIDE NOTE #2: The fact that Princess Wanning always finds a way to make a crop out of anything even a piece of straw and bring a man to his knees (literally or metaphorically) cracks me up.

SIDE NOTE #3: This moment? Hot. Am eagerly waiting for the fanfic.

[dark-and-kawaii]

I believe that making out sloppy style with Raphael for an extended period of time will fix us both

Oh this sounds lovely anon!!! I do believe you might be onto something!!! You’d have to make the first move though, he’d be far too focused to make the move first… But I do think your tongue entwined with his would relax him a bit.

There he was, as usual sitting at his desk writing yet another contract. The bags under his eyes were even darker than the night before and the way his hand perched on the side of his head looked like a very awkward attempt at trying to get his mind to work.

“Raphael,” you made your way to him, your devil disguised as a man, “I think you could use some relief~” you gently take the quill from his hand and place it on his desk. Your legs straddle his and your arms rest upon his shoulders.

He lets out a breath the moment he feels you grind into him, “I do not have time to dawdle-“

You lean forward and whisper in his ear, “allow me to distract you, my soon to be archdevil~” your breath was hot, but soothing, just like his own, which is odd considering his demeanor. His eyes close as you kiss just below his ear, just the way he likes it. His hands slowly make their way up your sides and to the small of your back where they press you closer to him.

It takes little time for your mouth to make its way towards his very own, your tongue pressing against his lips before pushing past those thin lips of his. He pulls away, but only for a moment before his teeth bite at your lip, drawing blood. You don't care though, you have to admit the pain he brings actually feels quite good. And besides, the sloppier the kiss the better, right?

[bellaxgiornata]

Cabbage & Tears

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Mom!Reader Word Count: 2.3k [Collection Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: breastfeeding, postpartum hormones, emotional hurt/comfort, and a little sweet Matty fluff

Summary: For the past week since Matt and you had both been home with your newborn, you've been struggling with the initial drop in your hormones post-birth and breastfeeding. But tonight you finally hit a new low while Matt is out.

a/n: I'm attempting to keep these "blurbs" (I know, this one is more of the length of a one shot) as realistic to postpartum and pregnancy experiences as possible. Also, Matt was too perfect for this idea with his senses. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Collection Tag List: @danzer8705 @glowstick-lesbian @flowher @geminadeckerwritesstuff @shiorimakibawrites @beezusvreeland @ebathory997 @maryyymothhh @4happilyeverafter @sleepysleepymom @kezibear @charmedkim @midnightramble @carolinaxvz @1988-fiend @marcysbear

Sliding the bedroom door shut carefully after yourself, you held your breath in anticipation of the oncoming high-pitched wails from behind the solid wood door. It had become quite the familiar sound in the apartment over the past week now ever since you and Matt had brought your baby boy home from the hospital.

Standing entirely still at the door for a good few seconds, you continued to hold your breath, your hands still grasping the door handle in case you needed to head back into the bedroom to comfort your week old newborn. It was a long moment before you dared to finally take a breath in, the tension leaving your muscles when the apartment wasn't suddenly filled with the sound of a newborn crying again. Releasing a sigh of relief, you were satisfied that you'd finally managed to get the baby down to sleep for a bit tonight. 

Hands falling away from the door, you glanced down at your chest. Your breasts were sore and engorged, pain radiating through them as they sat confined in your nursing bra. For the past two days you had been struggling with the increased milk production that your son's recent cluster feeding had brought on. Now the next chore you needed to tackle on your list since you finally had a free moment was to unclog the milk ducts that you swore were leading you straight towards mastitis. From what you'd read about the infection online, and from how you'd been feeling further run down since you'd woken this morning, you figured you were already teetering dangerously on the cusp of it.

Slowly shuffling your way towards the kitchen on bare feet in the silent apartment, the light from the billboard across the street illuminating the space in tones of purple, you felt a wave of unprompted sadness wash over you. Truthfully you'd had these random moments of feeling absolutely miserable ever since giving birth, even if you were still overwhelmingly happy and in love with Matt and your new little addition. But now you weren't sleeping well through the night with the baby here, even if Matt was awake helping you as much as he could. And the over-the-counter medication that you were able to take only mildly helped to relieve the pain you were still experiencing in the aftermath of childbirth. Not to mention, having to wear the equivalent of a diaper afterwards in front of Matt had only made you feel worse about yourself and your changed body.

You knew all the crying you'd been doing lately was due to the significant drop in your hormones that you'd been warned about. The ones that made you an emotional mess far more than you'd ever been on just your period alone. You'd spent most of yesterday at home with the baby just periodically sobbing while Matt was at the office, and more than half the time you were aware the tears were unnecessary. You hadn't wanted Matt to know that you'd been crying at home though, so you'd done your best to fight the melancholic feelings back once it neared time for him to return from work that evening. If he somehow had picked up on the fact that you'd been crying with his heightened senses, he hadn't said anything. 

You had been determined not to bother him with your problems–something you'd been doing ever since you'd first found out that you were pregnant. Your problems just seemed trivial in comparison to what he was dealing with at the law firm and as Daredevil. So you kept pretending like you were fine, pulling out your usual tricks to keep Matt's senses from detecting any lies. Which was why you'd practically urged him to go out again tonight. You knew there was something big going on in the city and he was clearly itching to deal with it, and you had wanted some time alone to stop pretending that you were fine–and so you could deal with your clogged milk ducts while crying in peace. So you’d promised him that you had no issue watching the baby for a few hours more by yourself while he went out. 

And now that you were really alone, you felt the tears coming again as you stopped in the kitchen. Opening the fridge door, you carefully bent down towards the vegetable drawer and tried to ignore the pain shooting through your body at the movement. Reaching your hand into the drawer, you pulled out the produce bag which contained a fresh head of cabbage. 

Gently closing the fridge door with the produce bag in hand, a few tears slipping out of your eyes and trailing warm tracks down your cheeks, you brought the cabbage over to the counter by the sink. Feeling pathetic with what you were about to do as the tears began to pick up their pace, you began to tear a few leaves from off the head of cabbage. Switching on the nearby faucet, you rinsed them briefly under cold water as a choked sob fell out of you. 

You'd already tried many things for the clogged ducts by now, most of which seemed to prove fruitless. Warm compresses, hand expression, steamy showers, bags of ice on your chest throughout the day. You'd even desperately grabbed your vibrator and used it to massage your breasts in the hopes of breaking the clog and finding relief after some tips you'd read online, but nothing had really worked. Now you were so desperate that you'd had a head of cabbage delivered to the apartment this evening–which had woken the baby as he'd just been about to fall asleep on you an hour ago–to try what amounted to an old wives tale. But you were desperate for relief, so here you were willing to stuff leaves of cold, damp cabbage into your nursing bra.

As you stood by the sink adjusting the leaves in your bra, you felt like you'd hit a new low. The tears continued to fall despite the comforting chill of the cabbage that was reducing the burning ache of your breasts. With a sigh you readjusted your shirt before putting the rest of the head of cabbage back into the produce bag. 

Turning and heading back over to the fridge, you placed the bag back into the vegetable drawer just as the sound of the roof access door opened in the other room. The unmistakable heavy footfalls of Matt's boots had your eyelids slowly lowering, a soft sigh escaping you. You'd hoped he would be out for a bit longer still, not wanting him to witness you like this right now. 

“Sweetheart?” Matt called out, his booted feet making their way down the stairs to the living room. “Is something wrong?”

Inhaling a deep breath in, you willed the tears to stop as you closed the fridge door. Wiping the back of your hand across your damp cheeks, you shook your head and tried your best to smile.

“Just tired, Matty,” you answered him. “And I've got a bad headache. You know, from the lack of sleep.”

As you made your way out of the kitchen and over towards the living room, you saw the way Matt’s head curiously canted to the side at your response. The billboard across the street was casting a yellow glow over him as he removed the horned cowl from his head, his sweat-dampened hair clinging to his forehead. 

“So was your night successful?” you asked him, hoping to change the subject.

“Yeah, it was,” he answered off-handedly. “Why have you been crying, sweetheart?”

“Oh, I–I wasn't. Not really,” you said before you could stop yourself. Catching the way the corners of his lips curved downwards, you realized he'd probably caught the lie in your words. “I mean, it was just rough getting him to sleep again tonight,” you backtracked quickly. “And you know–crazy hormones and all.”

Matt tossed his cowl onto the coffee table, his eyes narrowing curiously as they studied you. It didn't escape your notice how he was focused on your chest, clearly listening to your heartbeat and your body. Crossing your arms over yourself, you mentally prepared for the expected onslaught of questions as he made his way towards you. 

You expected him to probe further about the scent of your fresh tears in the apartment, or the skip in your heartbeat when you'd answered him. Maybe even the waver in your voice that you weren't convinced you'd successfully hidden this time. But what you hadn't expected was the way he'd stopped a foot away from you, his nose twitching as he visibly sniffed the air before pulling a face.

“Sweetheart,” he began slowly, his face twisted in distaste, “why do I smell…cabbage?”

It was impossible for you to control your reaction to his question. Your face immediately scrunched up, tears once more filling your eyes and spilling hot and warm down your cheeks. You felt a surge of sadness hit you hard as you abruptly crumpled in half, a sob flying out of you that you tried to muffle behind your hands.

Matt darted forward instinctively the moment you'd moved. His hands grasped tight onto your shoulders, keeping you upright as a look of concern drew itself across his face. His eyes were frantically scanning around you, darting over your face and then jumping down towards your body. 

“Hey, what's wrong? What's going on?” he asked. 

You could hear the strain in his tone as he clearly struggled to remain calm. Eyes snapping shut as the tears continued to race down your cheeks, you shook your head as Matt pulled you tight into his chest. Turning your face, you buried it against the strange material of his red suit, your arms wrapping back around yourself in a tight hug.

“It's me,” you croaked out. “I smell like cabbage.”

Matt's hands, which had soothingly been running up and down your back, briefly paused at what you'd said. You didn't dare move your face from where it was pressed against his chest, too embarrassed to see the expression on his face.

“I…don't understand,” he replied carefully.

Trying to fight back a sob, you answered him, your voice muffled by his suit. “I have some clogged ducts,” you began. “From the cluster feeding. Nothing is–is clearing them. Pretty sure there's an infection starting now.” You paused, exhaling a shaky breath. “I've tried everything. Everything recommended online except–except stuffing stupid cabbage in my bra.”

Your voice broke on the last few words, cracking as more tears spilled faster from your eyes. Unwrapping your arms from your chest, your hands clutched pathetically at Matt’s suit, your body aching from the flu-like symptoms you'd already begun experiencing.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Matt murmured tenderly, his arms wrapping tighter around you. “No wonder it feels like your body is warmer tonight. You've got the beginning of a fever, don't you?”

You nodded wordlessly, your eyes still closed as you clung to him for comfort. Though even you could smell the scent of cabbage filling your nose as you did, the scent of it making you feel even more pathetic.

“Why didn't you say anything?” Matt asked gently “I could have stayed home. Tried to help you or even just watched the little nugget so you could take care of yourself.”

Face still hidden against Matt, you shrugged. “Because it's stupid in comparison to what you're dealing with,” you muttered. “And I thought I could handle it.”

“You have the beginning of an infection,” he countered softly, his hands still making soothing patterns on your back. “That's not stupid, sweetheart.”

“I feel awful,” you whispered into his chest. “Feels like I'm sick.”

Matt sighed, his arms still firmly holding you to himself. Lowering his head, you felt him press his nose into your hair before affectionately placing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I can tell,” he told you. “Your body is definitely fighting off an infection. Why don't you get into bed and I'll find a way to help you once I get out of the suit?” 

Reluctantly releasing your arms from around Matt, you leaned back and examined the serious expression on his face. His arms were still loosely holding your waist, his eyes focused around your heart as he waited for an answer. 

“Are you sure you want me to get in the bed? I'll most likely make it smell like cabbage,” you pointed out, half-joking but half-serious. “Knowing you, you'd probably smell it for weeks.”

Matt chuckled before gesturing his head over his shoulder towards the bedroom. “Yes, go on, sweetheart, I'm sure. You could make the bed smell like rotten eggs for all I care if it would help you. Now go,” he pressed, lightly pushing you towards the bedroom. “Go get in bed and let me take care of you for once. And if our little nugget wakes up, I'll take care of him, too. You need some rest.”

A small smile slipped onto your face as you nodded. “Thanks, Matty,” you murmured. 

“Don't thank me, angel,” he replied. “We're in this together, right? You, me, and the little nugget you’ve got sleeping soundly in there.”

“Right,” you agreed softly.

Matt released his hold on you slowly before you began making your way around him and towards the bedroom. As you neared the door, you heard the familiar sounds of Matt beginning to slip out of his suit and you found yourself grateful that he'd come home when he had to help you. Even if you felt absolutely foolish with cabbage currently stuffed in your bra, because you had a feeling this would be a moment you both looked back on and laughed about in the future. 

[clanoffelidae]

It’s always ‘man I wish I was at home’ until you actually have a reason to stay home because you feel bad and then it’s ‘man I wish I was at work because that would mean I didn’t feel awful’

[empresskylo]

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓

ZOMBIE!SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY X AFAB!READER

SUMMARY | Simon is dead. And you were forced to leave him behind as the rise of the dead took over. When you volunteer to sneak back into base to grab med supplies, you don't expect to run into Simon—alive, but certainly not himself...

WARNINGS | dead dove do not eat! this is literally smut about zombie!ghost... so... beware i suppose. gore. dub-con?? afab!reader. wc 3k

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ lock me up! send me to jail!!! i can't believe I wrote this yes i can. This is how down bad i am for Ghost, I literally wrote smut about fucking him as a zombie... someone send the authorities, i need my internet taken away. (happy oct 1st btw)

𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It had been less than two days since you lost Simon.

The image of him dying in the infirmary wing, bleeding out on the bed, was plastered behind your eyes. You saw it every waking moment and even dreamt of it during the night. You could still feel Soap’s hands squeezing your arms far too aggressively as he dragged you out of the infirmary while you cried out for Simon. You tried to claw your way to him but Soap was stronger than you by a long shot. “We have to get out of here!” he shouted at you over the cacophony of voices, people running around frantically. You let him drag you away to safety, your body limp in his hold, thinking of Simon’s dying breath.

The infirmary had promptly been boarded up, the doors all sealed tight. The breakout had begun a few weeks ago and it only just infiltrated the base. When Ghost had come back, bleeding out after a mission gone wrong, you furiously checked him for bite marks. The relief you felt when you didn’t find any was short-lived. Simon had lost a lot of blood. Too much blood. You could still see it covering your hands the days following like a wraith. You felt like his blood was still wedged under your fingernails even after scrubbing your hands violently in a bucket of water. 

With the infirmary infected and the outside world gone, you had little options but to hunker down in the barracks. There were small hunting groups that would leave base and dare to edge into the city, trying to help people, and gathering resources. Ghost had been in one of those first groups to leave the safe confines of base. You wished you had begged him to stay. Pleaded with him not to go. 

The lights above you flickered, the generator not the most reliable of equipment. You looked across the table to your teammates, trying to keep yourself pulled together. It was only at night that you let yourself feel the pain, crying yourself to sleep. 

“We’re never gonna survive here if we don’t get that medical supplies,” Soap explained. 

“It’s too dangerous, Soap. We have no idea how bad it got in there. We have no way of knowing if all the bodies left behind turned,” Price retorted, pulling off his beanie and running his hand through his hair in nerves. 

“So, what then? We’re gonna send more men off to die, tryin’ to get shit from the city?”

Price closed his eyes momentarily. The bags forming under them showed just how little sleep he was getting. “We can’t risk more men. We’d be sendin’ them to their death, Soap. We don’t have the ammo to spare.”

“We don’t know that. We’re still not even sure if it's a guarantee the dead will change, or if they have to be bit.”

“It’s too–”

You cut the men off. “I can go.” Both their heads snapped in your direction. “I’m just a technician. With everything gone to shit, I haven’t been as much help as you guys have been. I can’t fight. I can’t–”

“No. We’re not riskin’ you,” Soap said sternly. 

“Soap,” you breathed. “I’m the only one here that isn’t crucial to the team. And don’t argue with me. It’s just a fact. Let me go. I can sneak in and grab what we need. I’m far quieter than any of you boisterous men anyways.”

Soap breathed your name. He was worried about you. He could see the pain in your eyes after losing Simon. He was worried this was a suicide mission. And that you wanted that. 

“Let me be of use,” you begged. Soap wanted to argue. So did Price. But you were right. You would be the fastest. And as much as they valued you, the remaining men couldn’t survive here without Soap or Price. 

“Lass, are you sure?” Soap said finally. He wanted you to feel useful, but he didn’t want you running off and risking your life because of the pain you felt from losing Simon. 

“Let me do it, Soap. Please. I need this.”

He couldn’t argue with you. He didn’t have it in him to hurt you more than you were already hurting. 

“Fine. But I’m not happy about this.”

You stood in your gear, an empty backpack plastered to your back waiting to be filled with medical supplies. Price had gone over the layout of the wing with you, showing you exactly where you needed to go to get the right supplies on a map of the building. 

You stood before the infirmary doors, the ones that would lead to a long, winding hall that would bring you to the center of the infirmary. Off of that were several rooms and more halls, and a surgical floor. It was a large span of space to cover, but you believed you could do this. 

“Be quick about it, lass. We’ll be right here when you get back,” Soap said to you, his hand resting on your shoulder. 

You took in a breath and walked up to the doors that had been unlocked, a large piece of plywood that had previously been nailed against it, removed so you could go in. Before you reached out to the door handle, you turned around and rushed into Soap’s arms. He held you tightly, your head tucked right under his chin. “Don’t you fuckin’ die on me,” he mumbled into your hair. 

You pulled back and gave him a sad smile. Then you nodded at Price and faced the daunting doors again. Once you stepped through the threshold and the doors shut behind you, you could hear the plywood being put back up, a hammer nailing it in place. When you got back, you were to knock and Soap would be there waiting to let you back in. 

The hall was flickering with a few overhead lights, the generator still powering a few of the rooms in this wing. 

Ghost had a glazed-over expression when he rolled off his medical bed. The room around him was silent apart from the ticking of a clock in the corner. There was blood pooled all around him and dripping onto the tiled floor as he stood. He had some semblance of who he was, of what happened, but most of his thoughts were hazed over like he was stuck in a daydream. 

He had walked the length of the room, a sudden craving for food hitting the pit of his stomach. Any sound made him snap in that direction, rushing towards it as if on cue. He heard banging coming from one of the med rooms, the door locked and nailed over with whatever scrap of wood they could find. More people like him were trapped behind those doors, their groaning echoing down the hall. 

Ghost limped as he walked, remembering how he had been shot in his leg. He looked down at his crimson-stained pants, almost like he should be feeling pain, but he felt nothing. 

Days had passed and he roamed the halls aimlessly, not even getting bored. His mind had drifted off, somewhere that wasn’t in his body, allowing him to walk around like a zombie, completely void of any logical thought. 

He grumbled as he made his rounds, stuck in a time loop, walking down the flickering hall again and again, passing by bodies that had been left behind. 

He hesitated when he heard something. He turned to look in the direction of the noise, intrigued. It sounded like someone had just walked blindly into a metal medical tray, knocking instruments onto the floor. His movements were fast and nimble as he approached the sound. 

He froze in place when he saw you–though he didn’t know who you were at that moment. You cursed yourself for being loud but didn’t hear anything in retaliation so you figured you were safe. Your hand rested on the knife strapped to your hip anyway.

You were edging towards the main infirmary double doors, your hand touching the metal of the handle. You should go in there and get supplies, but that’s where you had last seen Simon. You didn’t have it in you to see what had become of him, his body rotting alone. 

Instead, you walked down the hall and into a storage closet, oblivious to the shell of Ghost who trailed behind you. 

You left the door to the storage room open to let in a few strips of light so you could see better. You hunched over and began to dig through the supplies that had been thrown all over the floor in panic. 

Ghost rolled his neck as he saw you in the room, your back to him. He had a sudden urge to sink his teeth deep into your skin, to tear you to shreds. In fact, he wanted nothing more; the instinct was overpowering. 

But when he got close, he could hear your voice as you mumbled to yourself, going over the list of the items you needed. You held up a pack of linens, trying to see if they were clean. “These will have to do,” you said softly, shoving them into your backpack. 

A wave of familiarity surfaced inside Ghost, a strange feeling of being alive pumping through his veins. When he got to the doorframe, he could smell you. His senses heightened, the waft of your natural scent sent Ghost into a daze. He remembered—though he wasn’t sure what he was remembering. All he knew was that he recognized that smell. 

His body had felt like it was in hibernation, his motors set on autopilot as he mindlessly walked down the halls. But suddenly, Ghost’s true mind was brought to the forefront. And his body craved you, though not in the way he had just moments earlier. He didn’t want to sink his teeth into your neck, he wanted to feel your warmth against him. 

Ghost moved with such dexterity and silence, it was clear he was no longer human. When you stood, his arms immediately wrapped around you, eliciting a scream from your throat. 

Ghost still wasn’t fully comprehending what was happening; all he knew was that his body wanted you. His hand slid up around your neck, leaving a trail of blood on your clothes. He tried to speak, but he couldn't fathom what he wanted to say. All that came out was a strangled groan. 

You sputtered, trying to catch your breath as your heart raced in your chest. Ghost felt for your pulse beneath his fingertips, relishing in the way your blood pumped through your body. 

You turned your head slightly, spying the man who had you trapped against the many shelves in the closet.

It was Simon.

Terror flooded your system. He didn’t look like himself. His eyes were glossed over, his pupils and iris almost unidentifiable, the entirety of his eyes were white, appearing like he was blind. The blood that had soaked his face had congealed, the rusted color running down his clothes where he was shot in the chest and leg. He looked just how you left him, and it sent a sense of terror through you. 

“S-Simon?” You whispered, unsure if you were caught in a nightmare. 

A groan escaped his cracked lips. You gulped. He had become one of them . 

You were certain he was about to tear you apart, just as you had seen other fallen men do to your teammates. You closed your eyes, tears rushing down your cheeks as you prepared for the worst. His hands felt cold around your neck, like ice. You shivered against him. You accepted your fate—a small part of you actually wanted it. You wanted him to end you. To take you down with him. You didn't want to be alone anymore.

He nuzzled his nose against your neck and you squeezed your eyes shut, preparing for him to bite you. But it never came. 

Instead, he just moved his nose against you, smelling your hair and skin. His hands were still locked tightly against you, but they began to travel across your body. You opened your eyes in shock. Ghost’s hands trailed your chest, groping you with one hand, the other sprawling over the front of your thigh and stomach. You gasped in surprise. 

You felt him harden against you, something you had experienced many times before now, and the familiarity of it made your heart pound with mixed emotions. Your mind was too caught up trying to decipher what was happening to truly take the moment in. 

Ghost’s cold hands slid under your black shirt, snaking their way up to your breasts, cupping each one in his hands. Your nipples immediately hardened from the iciness of his touch. He ground himself against your backside, making you close your eyes in a moment of reprieve. You got lost in the past, imagining this was how it used to be. How he had touched you so many times before. 

You breathed his name and he seemed to like that, for he rolled his hips against you harder, his chest rumbling in satisfaction. 

The cold of his hands left you, making you oddly yearn to have them back on your skin. His fingers traced the hem of your pants before aggressively pulling them down. He got them past the curve of your ass and turned your bodies so your hips hit the edge of a shelving unit that acted as a table. You knocked all the supplies off as Ghost pushed you down against it, using your hands to catch yourself. 

Ghost shuffled with his own pants, wasting no time at all to slip himself inside you. You called out in a brief shock of pain. He held himself deep within you, his hands squeezing as he held you, his body bent over slightly, his chest flat against your back. Your own hands reached out to grab the edge of the table to help steady yourself. The searing heat of you against his frozen skin spread through him like wildfire.

Your cries ignited a flame in Ghost’s chest—the feel of your body, the sound of your gasps, the smell of your hair—felt natural, like this was exactly what he was supposed to be doing. That he was made to take you like this. That your body against him was something so ingrained in his system, that he had no choice to to let his limbs move on muscle memory. 

He began to thrust inside you, your hips hitting the table with each snap of his hips. His hand snaked around your neck, the smear of blood now coating your skin. One of your hands came up to wrap around his wrist, resting it there in support. 

You groaned as he rocked into you harder. The pain from his sudden intrusion had subsided, and now you were filled with a haze of rapture. A tear slid down your cheek. You were unable to process what was happening, but what you did know was that you had missed Simon more than anything and that this wasn’t real. This wouldn’t last longer than this moment in time. 

Ghost’s chest rumbled in pleasure as he thrusted into you. Your walls squeezed around him and he let out a loud groan. His arm not clutching your neck wrapped around your midsection, pulling you away from the table so you were flesh against him. He held you tight, almost like he couldn’t get you close enough. That if he had his way, he’d let you make a home beneath his skin. 

His hips snapped vehemently against you, his pace quickening. You moaned, your sounds coming out strangled as his cold hand held your neck. Your walls tightened around him, your climax rapidly approaching. You couldn’t quite believe that you were not only fucking your dead boyfriend, but you were going to come in record time. 

You were absolutely intoxicating to him as your warmth clenched down on him, your heat something recognizable to him, and yet, the intimacy was foreign at the same time. Now that he was devoid of his usual body temperature, the warm feeling of you around him was almost painful. 

When you mewled and cried under him, your walls spasaming, he drew himself to the edge right behind you. Ghost came inside you with a great urge, growling in your ear as he tried to support the two of you. You felt him fill you, the white fluid seeping out around where his cock continued to pump in and out of you. His movements became sloppy, your legs shaking, your hand clutching onto his wrist for dear life. 

You couldn’t hold back the cascade of tears, finally letting them flow as Ghost slowed his pace before stopping altogether. He edged out of you, his arms hesitantly letting you go, and you immediately turned around to face him, burying your face in his chest. You sobbed as he stood there. His arms didn’t reach out and hold you like he once would. He didn’t try to comfort you like he always did so well. 

But still, he just let you huddle against him, taking what you needed from him. He didn’t attack you. He didn’t try to kill you. He wasn’t himself, but he wasn’t fully gone either. You turned to look up at him, resting your chin on his chest. He looked down and you stifled a cry. His white eyes were going to be permanently burned into your mind, haunting you for eternity. His face was sullen and blanched, blood smearing all across him; fresh blood dripping slightly from his mouth.

You tentatively reached a hand up and rested it on his frozen cheek. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled. Ghost made no indication he could even hear you. 

You took in a deep breath, willing yourself to do this, and stepped back. You adjusted yourself before slowly reaching down for your bag. Ghost stood and watched you, the only thing moving was the tilt of his head as he traced your movements. 

You shuffled to the door, anticipating him to reach out and end this daydream, ripping you apart. But he just watched you go, his mind riddled with foggy thoughts. He wanted to tear into you, but another part of him prevented him from doing so. He wanted to grab you and hold you against him for some reason. He liked the warmth your body provided. But another part of him felt nothing at all. 

He watched you leave in a stupor, his mind just barely grasping onto the image and memory of you. It’s true, he wasn’t completely gone, but he was fading fast. 

You cried violently as you stumbled back to the exit. When you banged on the doors, you heard the plywood being ripped off and the doors swinging open. Soap pulled you back into the base and held you at arm's length. “What happened?” he asked desperately. You were sobbing and covered in blood.

Should you tell him? Would Soap let you return to Simon knowing he wasn’t gone? Or would they make you stay here, letting Simon slip away forever? 

You suddenly regretted leaving him. You should have stayed with Simon, even if he was a shell of who he used to be. You should have waited the time out together until he fully lost himself, and you would let him take you down with him. 

[pellucid-constellations]

To Feel At Home

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Winnowing out from Under the Mountain, you know you need to find him—it doesn't seem real, to feel so at home.

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: Angst

a/n: A little angsty piece because I can't stop writing for some reason. I hope you enjoy :)

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

On shaking legs, you pressed forward. Rhysand was still at the Moonstone Palace—still in Mor’s arms and coping with the impossible. You had made to stay, but Mor had given you a shake of her head that conveyed more than any words could have.

Mustering up the morsel of power that had returned to you after Amarantha’s death, you winnowed to Velaris. 

Not in a good spot. You hadn’t had access to your power in over five decades and much of Rhysand’s wards were still in place. Given the circumstances, getting yourself to some random alley at the edge of Velaris was a feat. 

The sun was blinding, invading your senses that had gotten so used to the darkness Under the Mountain. You brought a hand up to cover your eyes and trekked on.

No more winnowing. 

You had tried—it hadn’t worked. 

As you walked, stumbling through families taking strolls and having normal days, you searched within you for that golden thread. It had been absent for longer than it had been alive, your time as mates barely reaching a decade before your disappearance. 

You sifted through the pain and grief and loneliness, desperate for the relief you would find once you felt the weight of him. 

Nothing yet. 

He had to know things had changed Under the Mountain. Even amidst the secrecy and the hiding, you knew he would check.  His shadows would cross continents to find you. 

But—you stressed, as you made it to a main road lined with cobblestones—that could mean he went there. Azriel could be under that mountain at this very moment, searching through the fae still sorting out their lives before they went home. 

And you were here. 

You had no reason to panic. 

You were home, safe, alive; you had more reason to feel at peace than you had in the last 50 years. But if Azriel wasn’t here… 

Your breath came out in short pants as your fingers found purchase on a wall. But you kept going, kept watching your feet as they stumbled past each other, just to have the chance of seeing him. 

There were no shadows yet. 

They always found you first. 

You weren't sure how much time had passed—seconds, minutes, hours all lost their meaning under Amarantha—but the shadow of the mountain that held your home was soon cast over your body. You gasped out uneven breaths and pressed a hand to the towering figure, to the entrance that held the ten thousand steps you had every intention of climbing. 

Your body would surely fail. 

The last five decades had not been kind. 

With a determination fueled solely by desperation and hope, you began the tunneled pathway to the harrowing climb, but then you stopped at the entryway. 

A broken rendition of your name met your ears, so cracked and ruined you could have passed it off for something else. 

But you knew that voice, the way the vowels flowed and connected. 

Another broken sound permeated the air, this time from your own lips. 

You couldn’t look. You wanted to, ached to, but you couldn’t. So much anticipation led up to this moment. And you were different now, a fraction of the person you had been all those years ago. 

“Y/n, my love, look at me,” Azriel begged, the lowest you’d ever heard him speak. But you hadn’t heard him speak in so long, so perhaps you were misremembering. “Please.” 

You couldn’t. 

Moving was impossible. 

Your legs began to shake at the sound of footsteps, and then your knees gave out. 

A loud sound vibrated against the tunnel walls as your hands slapped against the floor. On the ground, steps away from the only person who could fix this, your waterline filled with tears. 

But you didn’t have time to second-guess or run or wonder if this was all too much. You were gathered into a strong pair of arms, pressed into a firm chest that smelled like home, and tears made paths down your cheeks. They flowed in damp trails in silence, Azriel holding you closer and closer until you weren’t sure space existed between you. 

His nose pressed into your hair. 

His chest rose and fell in uneven patterns. 

More silence. You felt your body begin to rock gently back and forth. 

This wasn’t real—it couldn’t be. 

You had resigned yourself to never seeing him again many years ago. Even as you ran through the streets of Velaris without your breath or your reasonable mind, you hadn’t expected to find him. This was a dream, Azriel wasn’t here, it was only a cruel play on your mind. 

Someone was trying to hurt you, and it was working. 

Maybe Amarantha had finally gotten Rhys to crack. 

Maybe this was his doing, his manipulation of your deepest hopes. 

Something was moving against your ear, soft and rushed and incoherent. A hand smoothed back your hair. You kept rocking. 

“You’re okay.” Words filtered through ringing. “You’re okay. You’re okay. I’m here.” 

Over and over. On a loop. 

Something encased you. Darkness followed—you were used to darkness. 

The pattern of the words lulled your heart back to a normal rate. Tears continued to fall. Your breath was shaky. 

“I love you so much,” Azriel broke the repetition, shocking your system. “I love you. I love you—” 

A sob wracked your body, the first real sound to leave your mouth. Azriel shushed you in response, but when he buried his face in your neck you felt the wetness of his own cheeks. 

This had to be real, it had to. There was no other alternative. You wouldn't survive feeling this way just to be thrust back into that nightmare. 

It had to be real, it had to—

“It is,” Azriel choked out. He pulled back, your face in his hands, his expression conveying a picture of pain and love and disbelief. “It’s real, angel. Gods, you’re so beautiful. I never thought I’d—” Words cut off and restarted. “I tried so hard to get to you.” 

His forehead met yours. 

This was real. 

You felt the shadows wisp along your skin. 

You could never feel them in dreams. 

“I missed you,” you croaked, voice so unused to the words. “So much.” 

Azriel squeezed his eyes shut only to open them after not even a breath. Desperate not to lose sight of you. Anguished at the thought of missing the picture of you in his arms. 

“I’ve missed you more.”

[ellemj]

Against the Rules

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader One-Shot: SMUT

Summary: Bucky's trying to fuck you senseless so you'll have to sleep over. Isn't that how a friends with benefits situation is supposed to work?

Warnings: profanity, overstimulation, praise, mentions of oral sex (female and male receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talking, somewhat possessive!Bucky, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I've been unreasonably horny bc I haven't had time to spend with the man I'm obsessed with this past week, so I channeled that energy into writing this shit today

Your body can’t take anymore. You’re sure that at any given moment, the last shred of physical strength that you’ve been using just to keep your legs underneath you will unravel and you’ll go crashing to the surface of the bed. You’ve been going at this for too hard, and for too long.

Bucky knows you’re struggling to keep up. He can feel the way your entire body trembles as he fucks his cock into you relentlessly, as he whispers soft praises in your ear to keep you motivated. Every time he bottoms out inside you he fears your knees might give way and you’ll tell him it’s too much, that this is the last time. Truthfully, Bucky doesn’t know why he’s still fucking the shit out of your tight little cunt when he’s already coaxed three orgasms out of you tonight, when he’s already finished inside of two condoms himself. It’s as if he’s stuck in an infinite loop, continuously thrusting into you and tugging your hips back to meet his every single time. He can’t fucking stop.

As the head of Bucky’s cock brushes against your cervix, eliciting a mix of pain and pleasure that only a well-endowed man can draw out of you, you let out a loud moan and tighten your grip on his bedsheets. Your head drops down until your forehead is pressing into the soft fabric of his pillowcase.

“That’s it, you’re taking me so fucking well.” Bucky groans out. Instead of speeding up as you’d expect, Bucky slows down and deepens his thrusts even more. Every slow drag of his cock leaving your pussy makes you subconsciously clench down, your body fighting to keep him buried inside you. “Look at that, baby.” He coos softly, leaning over you until his chest is draped over your back and his lips are grazing the shell of your ear once again. “You’re so tired, so fucked out, but your body just wants more.”

The moan you let out into his pillow is pornographic and embarrassingly needy as you arch your back and shuffle your knees to spread outward a little more. He’s right. Bucky’s always right. You want more.

He’s always taken his duty as your fuck buddy seriously. He always shows up at your door when you call, always lets you in when you find yourself at his door. He lets you vent about your day while he undoes his belt. He gives you advice about upcoming missions while he watches your clothes pile up on the floor beside his bed. He gives you the most godly form of pleasure and relief solely with his body, leaving you satisfied every time. It started out as an occasional activity, only occurring when you had a particularly bad week. After two months, it’s become an addiction. If you aren’t calling him nearly every night of the week, he’s calling you. If you can’t find the time to meet up and get each other off, he finds a way to get you alone during the work week at SHIELD headquarters. Honestly, you’re surprised you haven’t been caught on some kind of surveillance yet. It was just yesterday that he led you into an empty meeting room and laid you on the mahogany table. He spent ten minutes eating you out like your taste was the only thing he’d been able to think about all day.

“Bucky…” His name falls from your lips as you lift your head from the pillow. You watch as his headboard shifts back and forth in front of your face, hitting the wall over and over again with every snap of his hips.

“I know.” He whispers, pressing a kiss against your shoulder as he lessens the intensity of his thrusts. He feels fear coursing through him. Fear that you’ve had enough, that you’ll gather your things and head back to your apartment. It’s why he’s fucking you so damn hard tonight. He secretly hopes that you’ll be too sore to get up and get dressed, too sore to even think about getting out of his bed and leaving him tonight. He wants to fuck you so hard that you have to stay. “I know, baby. I just need one more from you.” He rasps against your skin. He straightens up behind you once more, continuing to fuck you while his hands grip your hips and his eyes take in your arched back and reddened ass. Just one more, he thinks.

“Bucky, you didn’t put another condom on.” His rhythm falters, slowing to a stop while his dick remains sheathed inside you. Fuck. He didn’t put a condom on after the last time he finished. How the hell did he forget? He’s never fucked anyone without one. It’s as if it didn’t even cross his mind when he took the last one off twenty minutes ago.

“Shit.” He groans, screwing his eyes shut and turning his face up to the ceiling. He needs to pull out and put one on if he’s going to finish this. Bucky starts slowly dragging his cock out of you, letting you feel every inch of him against your walls as he goes. “You were just letting me fuck you raw?” A loud moan escapes your lips and you drop your face into his pillow again. He freezes with only the head of his cock still inside you. “Did you…did you want me to fuck you raw?”

“Bucky—“

“You did, didn’t you?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you keep your face tucked into his pillow and your back arched as he holds the head of his cock still just barely inside of you. He gives you another second, another chance to answer. He has little control over his own movements when his right hand tangles in the hair at the back of your head and he tugs you upward until you’re only on your knees, with you back flush against his chest.

         “What would you do if I kept fucking you like this? Without anything between us?” He asks lowly, letting his hips move forward only centimeters at a time. This time you moan his name softly, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. “That’s right, you wouldn’t do a damn thing.”

         “This is a bad idea.” You point out as he lets half of his length sink into you.

         “Then why are you letting me do it?” He questions, pulling his hips back and then thrusting them forward again. He goes a little past halfway this time, making you whimper. “Why are you letting me fuck you raw? Do you want me to cum inside you?”

         Bucky picks up the pace, fucking you a little faster and a little deeper, utilizing the majority of his length as his hand falls away from your hair. You end up with one of his hands between your legs, applying just the right amount of pressure to your clit, and his other hand alternating between fondling each of your breasts. When you moan out his name but don’t offer a response to his last query, he heaves a deep sigh before falling back to sit on his legs, pulling you back with him so you end up sitting down right on his throbbing cock. The scream that leaves your parted lips and rings out in the air draws a smirk to Bucky’s face. He knows he’s big, it’s why you’ve only ever been able to ride him after he’s spent time working you up to it. He probably should’ve given you a warning this time, been a bit more gentle, but it’s your fault really. You should’ve answered.

         “Fine.” Bucky sighs again, loosening his hold on your hips and giving you an opportunity to get off of his dick. You don’t move a muscle, but he can feel your pussy tightening around his shaft, he can feel your wetness dripping onto his balls as you remain still. “Get off of me and I’ll put a condom on.”

         Again, you don’t move. You stay seated on his cock, trying to catch your breath and adjust to his size. You know you should get off like he said, and let him put on some protection before you both make a risky mistake. So, after another second, that’s what you do. You start lifting yourself off of him slowly, letting his length retreat from your entrance inch by inch. When you get to that familiar point where all you feel inside of you is the head of his cock, you have one dangerous little thought. What if you do let him cum inside you?

         Bucky witnesses your hesitation and he’s silently praying that this is the moment your legs finally give out, that you’ll fall right back down on his cock and he won’t have a chance to put a condom on. It’s what he wants to happen, but he can’t seem too eager. Not when you’re just his fuck buddy.

         “Are you gonna get off, sweetheart?” Bucky asks, his voice low and smooth in your ears as he starts running his palms along the sides of your thighs.

         “Yeah.” You whisper in response.

         When you sit back down on Bucky’s lap, taking the entirety of his length in one go, you catch him by surprise. You feel his cock twitch inside of you and his fingers dig into the sides of your waist as he strains to hold his load.

         “Fuck.” He groans, trying his best to compose himself as you start sliding up and down on his shaft. “I thought you were getting off.”

         “I am.”

         The moment turns into a filthy rendition of doggystyle, with Bucky fucking you as you’re face-down ass-up and his headboard scuffing up his bedroom wall. When his neighbor bangs on the wall, signaling that you’re both being too loud, Bucky only fucks you harder. He angles his thrusts just right, hitting that spot inside of you that only he can reach.

         “Shit, I’m gonna cum.” Bucky pants the words out between thrusts, letting his head fall back as he continues to rail you into the mattress. You’re at the point where you can’t even feel the rest of your body, the only thing you can feel is the way Bucky’s cock fits so perfectly inside you. You focus on it, the repetitive thrusts and outward drags of his length against your walls, the filthy melody of wet sounds and skin-slapping that fills the room and penetrates the walls all around, surely driving Bucky’s neighbors mad. “Fuck, baby.”

         You feel every single drop of warmth in your lower stomach as Bucky loses control and cums inside of you. You feel every twitch of his cock as your pussy clenches around him and begs for more. You feel used, in the best way. Your fourth orgasm washes over you like a raging tidal wave, sweeping your knees out from under you and forcing you to collapse onto Bucky’s bed. He stops pulling out so far and starts grinding into you as he praises you through your high, peppering kisses and gentle bites along the side of your neck and your right shoulder.

         “You’re sleeping here tonight.” He whispers against your skin, still softly rutting into you.

         “That’s against our rules.” You remind him. Your voice is raspy from all of the moaning and screaming that’s taken place tonight and he loves it. It reminds him of the time you let him fuck your throat and you had a raspy voice for an entire day afterward. Everyone else thought you were catching a cold. Only Bucky knew that you’d been on your knees, swallowing his cock like such a good girl the night before.

         “Cumming inside you was against the rules too.” He counters, pulling out almost completely before giving you one more hard thrust. “So…you’re going to sleep in my bed, full of my cum…” He gives you another hard thrust, making sure his load is thoroughly fucked into you. “And you’re going to fucking like it.”

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@sunnyhummingbee @gyokujyn @jenniferpendragon @siciliano13 @ordelixx @crist1216 @twlkdead @claireelizabeth85 @charmedbysarge @blackhawkfanatic @kentokaze @eecummingsandgoings @nyashonality @h2oaffirmations @sadeyes61 @aka-tua-braindump @immortalfangirl @andrometda @sillysillygoose444

[imsilay]

SMARTY

NSFW! mdni +18, cw: toxic!König, jealous!König, pussy slapping, König punishing the reader and he isn’t gentle… possessive behavior, manipulating?

word count: 1.8k

summary: König wants you all for himself so he made sure you only want him.

art cr: temir03_bek

The coffee shop had perfect coffee and a wonderful view. Your friends surrounded you and some of them were close. So close that he had to clench his fist to not break that arm around your shoulder. He didn’t like when someone else touched his belongings. The urge to lock you in and hide from the whole word was wandering in his mind. He warned you. He warned you so many times before. He didn't like your stupid friends. Why would you need them anyway? You had him and he was enough. How could you be so carefree, letting them touch you while knowing it drove him insane? Why couldn't you understand that you're his and his only? Was that how you welcomed him after his long mission: Ignoring him and chatting with your friends instead? It was supposed to be just the two of you, not your stupid friends constantly stealing your attention from him. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath to soothe his violent thoughts about the arm around your shoulder. Once he was feeling calmer, he approached you. When your eyes met his you knew something was wrong. You shrugged off the arm around your shoulder as you swallowed thickly. He leaned in and whispered to your ear. “I’m tired.” a wave of relief washed over you when he talked you with a sweet tone, you still couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off. Despite the feeling, you smiled and waved goodbye to your friends.

The moment you walked through the front door, he immediately locked up and hid the keys. Your brows furrowed in confusion and anxiety as you watched him closely. "König, what are you doing?" you asked, nervous as your gaze locked onto him. "I don't like them." When he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, his huge arms and veins made your heart skip a beat. "Who are you talking about?" you mumbled, feeling even more nervous as you grasped at the sides of your shirt. His gaze lowered to your hands and then back up to your eyes. He sensed your anxiety and was annoyed that you were standing away from him. If you ask him the best way to calm down was letting him take the control of everything. “You know who.” his tone was calm but cold and distant. It made you even more nervous. You felt like you did something wrong. You felt guilty but you didn’t stepped back. “Care to explain why you don’t like them?” you crossed your arms, imitating him. One of his brows raised and he looked you up and down. The sudden attitude taking him by surprise. “Because…” he sighed and sat on the couch. “They stole your attention from me. I want you all for myself.” he said casually. Before you could say anything, he grabbed your hand and pulled you into his lap, making you straddle him as your legs wrapped around his waist. You tried to get up but it was useless against his strength. "I can't just ditch them and focus on you." you said, rolling your eyes. His attempt to stay calm and patient was failing miserably as you got on his nerves. "Mine." he growled into your ear, squeezing your thighs tightly, his frustrations growing. “Let go of me.” you scowled when he grabbed your thighs harder. “Du gehst nirgendwohin.” (You’re not going anywhere.) he growled. He was risking everything to just to be with you. And yet you’re here arguing with him like the brat you were. You continued to squirm, testing his limits. He took a sharp breath with irritation. A hard slap landed on your face, making your ear ring. It was the last thing you’d expect. His large, calloused hand caused too much pain that your lips quivered and eyes filled with tears. when you surrender König kissed your cheek softly. “Do you understand now, Maus? I don’t want you to be close with them. You’re only mine.” he whispered. You nodded. He leaned in and kissed the mark he left on your cheek. “Du bist mein.” He mumbled rapidly and kissed it once, twice, three more times, as if to apologize for hurting you. “Such a good girl.” he purred in delight when you submit him. His hands caressed your back as he kissed wherever he could reach on your face and neck. Showering you with kisses before he ruin you.

You wanted to run away but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave him. He was your everything. The thought of living without him made your heart ache. Even if he hit you, you knew he loved you and cared about you deeply. He just wanted to keep you safe, right? You hesitated to understand his morals after what happened today. Your body trembled ever so slightly and he noticed it. He noticed everything about you. Any subtle movement would catch his eye. He adjusted your position on his lap. Now you were leaning back against his chest and your legs were draped over his. "Are you afraid of me, Maus?" He whispered into your ear. "I'm not." you murmur with a pathetic attempt to sound tough, but your voice is almost above a whisper. “You should be." he responded, wrapping his big arms around your waist and pressing your back against his chest tight. Your breath hitched. You felt so small as his body covered yours, like a warm blanket. The sting of his slap still lingered on your cheek even after all those kisses. He doesn't regret it. In fact, both of you know you deserved it. You should’ve known better than making him jealous.

He kept holding you in his arms with iron grip, as if he was afraid that you'd leave. He was indeed afraid of someone stealing you from him. “Do you love me, Maus?” his whispered. Your body tensed when his hand slide down your body. His face was buried into your neck, his lips pressed to your pulse. You knew where this was going. König had a strange way to punish you, very strange. But tonight was different. His hands weren't gentle as they were before. It took you long to respond. He didn’t liked it. The room was quiet but your heart was beating loudly in your ear. “I love you.” you finally breathed out. His grip loosened ever so slightly. He smiled against your neck. “Ich liebe dich auch, Maus.” he whispered and kissed your pulse. He always loved the feeling of your pulse under his lips. You trusted him enough to be vulnerable with him even when you knew he could break a man’s spine without effort. It gave him a feeling of control over you.

Eventually his hands arrived at destination. Your back arched against his chest but he pulled you still with one of his arms around your waist. “But i still need to teach you a lesson, Maus.” He tugged your pants down revealing your cute little cunt and panties. His middle and index finger rubbed at your clit through the thin fabric of your panties making you squeeze your thighs together. “Nein, Maus. Open them wide f’me.” he whispered in a threatening tone. You did as he said. Who you were to deny him? He kissed your pulse again. The room was now filled with your little whimpers. His eyes never leaving your pretty cunt to watch how wet it got when he played with you. “Always so sensitive.” he purred. How do you think he would let anyone touch you when you were this responsive? What if they -even accidentally- made you feel like he did? The thought of another man or woman touching you made him see red. He ripped your panties and shoved his fingers into your tight hole. Like he was in a hurry to prove you he was the best. His fingers curled inside your walls and hit all the spots he knew by heart. Your back arched and hands grabbed his forearm but he bit your shoulder making you let go immediately. “Braves Mädchen, let König take care of your needy cunt.” he mumbled as he fingered your dripping hole in a brutal pace and rubbed your clit with his thumb. The pleasure was too much to bare. You tipped your head back on his shoulder. His gaze turned to your face and he watched how your face twisted in please. “So suß.” he cooed and kissed your chin. “Your friends are useless, Maus. They’re nothing compared to me.” he mumbled as he frantically fingered you. His lengthy and thick fingers easily making you squirm. “They’re not useless. I love them.” you managed to process his words and mumble an answer. Your walls clenched around his fingers signaling that you’re close. “Ja, really? More than me?” he stopped his fingers but still kept them inside you. You whined and tried to rock your hips but his arm around your waist pinned you to his chest. “Answer me, Maus.” he pumped his fingers into you once drawing a whiny moan. “N-no.” you whimpered and dug your fingers into his thighs. “Please don’t stop.” you pleaded as your hips moved by its own chasing that sweet release. He wouldn’t let you have it now. You have to squirm more and beg for it. “Benimm dich, Maus.” (Behave.)

his fingers slowly moved in and out as his arm kept you still. It was almost painful that how slow he was. “Promise me you will never see them again.” he mumbled with a dark voice. You shook your head in protest. You didn’t wanted to lose your friends just because he said so. A hard slap landed on your dripping cunt making you jolt with pain and taking you by surprise. A gasp escaped from you. His big hand covering your pussy when he hit you again. His palm now covered with your slick. “Use your words. Tell me you don’t love them, you don’t need them.” he growled and hit your clit. Your eyes went wide and hips twitched. But his strong arm kept you in place. Not leting you move away from the punishment. He hissed when he saw how red your puffy lips become with just a few slap. “Do you want me to bruise your little cunt?” he hissed then another hard slap landed on your cunt. You shook your head desperately. “I’m so sorry. I-i hate them.” You did your best to not cry but the teasing was too much. You felt like you could cum with just his big, calloused hands slapping your wet cunt. “König please.” you whimpered and buried your head into his neck. “I only love you. I promise.” you cried. He kissed your exposed neck and his fingers caressed your abused pussy. “Braves Mädchen.” he purred. It was enough for him. The way you begged and claimed you only loved him made his cock throb in his pants. He pushed his fingers into your tight hole and picked up the pace. “Let go Maus. I know you’re close.” he mumbled as he watched how you dripped from his fingers to couch. All the slapping and teasing made you weak. So you cum, hard. You didn’t knew if it was because the way he kissed your neck or his skilled fingers.

a/n: please support me by reblogging, if you liked the content ofc <3 your comments also makes my day :*

i have no idea what i just wrote- confession: i’m too lazy to write aftercare :’)

tags

@sanzuandmikey @leeeenistop @0151imagayone @0mint-chocolate0 @wybwtjmiadz

also i post everyday -sometimes 2 posts in a day- so if you follow me i won’t disappoint ;)

[rafeandonlyrafe]

chew toy

words: 600

warnings: biting/oral fixation? but its not done in a kinky way

rafe is tough. rafe is strong. he’s the one you call for when you can’t open a can, or need something heavy moved. when you think about it, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him in any sort of pain, so its a shock when you’re sitting cuddled against his side and he shouts out in pain.

“what is it?” you ask suddenly, eyes widening when the arm you’re resting against flinches.

“what is it?” rafe mocks you. “baby, you just bit me!”

“oh!” you look at rafes bicep, and sure enough theres bite marks on his skin. “oh my god, i didn’t even notice!” “you didn’t notice biting me?” rafe laughs, the shock of the sudden bite wearing off quickly upon seeing your innocent pout, feeling bad about hurting your boyfriend.

“are you mad?” “no.” rafe shakes his head, placing his thumb under your chin to raise your face up to look at him, pressing a kiss to your nose and then your lips. “just be gentle, baby.”

“mmkay.” you nod, wondering if that means you have permission to bite him again in the future, just not as hard.

--

as soon as you did it, you can’t stop thinking about biting rafe again. you know what its like to feel attracted to your boyfriend, that you find him delicious looking, but you didn’t expect to suddenly feel the urge to sink your teeth into his soft flesh.

“rafey?” you ask, only able to resist about a week.

“mmm, what is it?” rafe asks, eyes moving away from the tv to look at you.

“can i bite you again?” rafe is shocked for a moment, shocked that you clearly aren’t watching the tv show you put on, too distracted about thinking about biting him.

“yeah, of course. just gently, like i said.” rafe turns back to the tv when you grab his arm, pulling your knees into his chest as you place his arm on top of them, smiling at his tanned forearm right in front of you like its your favorite snack.

you lean forward, teeth sinking into his flesh, your tongue flicking over his arm, making sure to keep your bite gentle enough to not cause rafe to flinch.

by the time the episode is over, rafes arms are both covered in light bite marks.

--

“what is it baby?” rafe asks, rubbing his hand over your back.

“tummy hurts so bad.” you whine, the cramping from your period hopefully going to settle now that you’ve taken a midol and curled up in bed.

“what can i do to make you feel better? want me to get your heating pad?” rafe asks, but you shake your head no, your body already overheating.

“just come lay down with me?” you pout, grabby hands reaching for rafe.

“of course.” rafe shuffles your bodies around so you can remain in your scrunched up position but still be close to rafe.

“here, baby.” rafe extends his hand to you, the delicate soft part of skin between his thumb and forefinger looking like the perfect fit for your mouth. you look to rafe to make sure you understand what he means, and when he gives you a gentle nod, you lean forward, immediately letting out a sigh of relief when you have your teeth against his skin.

--

“what is she doing to you, bro?” kelce asks, his eyebrows scrunched together as you sit next to rafe, mouth open on his shoulder, leaving little nips and bites against his tanned skin.

“don’t mind her. she just likes having something in her mouth.” rafe smirks. sure, it’s not the normal kind of oral fixation, but he doesn’t mind it, liking the way it feels when your canines press into him, a reminder, albeit a slightly painful one, that you’re right there next to him.

“you’re like her chew toy.” kelce says, making you frown and pull away, big eyes looking to rafe.

“shh, he’s just being a dick, babygirl. you can keep going.” rafe talks so gently to you, coaxing you back into his side.

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[solbaby7]

Hi! Could you write one where the reader somehow ingests a magic aphrodisiac while out on a mission. And she is in a ton of discomfort but her mate (any male maybe rhys) isn’t able to get there quickly so he gives cassian or azriel permission to give her some relief until he can arrive ?? :) a little angsty but also sexy

Blurred Lines

pairing: rhysand x reader x az

warnings: swearing, boyfriend lets his best friend fuck his girlfriend, mentions of aphrodisiacs, probs typos

[ part 2 ] [ part 3 ]

—

You’d felt uneasy, stomach churning like curdled milk after inhaling so much of the suspicious purple powder that had been blown in your face. “It burns,” Your body stumbles into Azriel’s, fingers pinching at your nose as you tried to ease the tingle that was beginning to prickle behind your eyes and nostrils.

He doesn’t answer for a moment, piercing eyes scanning the crowd for the figure cloaked in a red so deep it was nearly black but not even his shadows find a trace of them. “We need to get out of here. Do you have it?”

The thrum of the pages hum in the satchel strapped tightly beneath your arm. It had taken weeks to even locate a trace of them, just barely realizing anything was missing from the Book of Breathings until Nesta discovered the tattered remnants of torn pages tucked in the book spine. “I have it.” It comes out slightly slurred, your vision distorting as the powder began to take effect. The uncomfortable heat begins in your sinuses, spreading like venom in your bloodstream until every inch of your body felt like it was pressed up against the crackling flames of a fire. “Whatever that was—it’s really potent.”

Azriel grips you close, shadows cloaking your whole body until he’s winnowed you a safe enough distance away to properly evaluate you. “Gods, your eyes.” You squirm under the warmth of his hands. A simple touch sending every nerve into a frenzy and you’re abnormally aware of the steady throb between your thighs.

Your heartrate spikes, fingers slightly unsteady when snatching for the dagger strapped to your thigh and once you see your reflection it falls from your grasp. Embedded in the natural color of your iris was a smattering of shiny purple dots. “What the hell was that stuff?”

“I don’t know.” Azriel’s worry only grows, eyes glazing over as he no doubt was relaying everything that had happened to Rhys—to your mate. The very thought of him has arousal pooling between your thighs but the pleasant tingle of pleasure that usually followed is nowhere to be found. Every muscle seized with stress, fingers digging into your hair to alleviate the pulsing pressure all over. “Just hang on,” He pleads, holding you close despite your discomfort but there’s no other choice but to winnow as close as the wards around the safe house would allow. “Rhys is on his way.”

The words barely register, sweat beading at your hairline and even with the temperatures slightly lower than usual, the heat refused to subside. It radiates through your clothes, micro particles of sparkling purple transferring from your leathers to Az’s the longer he had to support your weight.

You scramble away from him the moment the door opens, fingers frantically pulling at the buttons keeping the tactical gear in place until it’s left in a heap on the floor. Gods, the floor. So cool against bare skin and the momentary relief is too good to even notice the fact that you were so exposed, the thin straps of the flimsy undershirt slipping down your shoulder; the hem hiking up the length of your stomach.

Vaguely aware of the sounds around you, the floor barely rumbles as Azriel shifted through the space. It was a little cramped but big enough for a kitchen and a bedroom with a small bathroom tucked within.

Too soon does the cool fade away, pained whines follow and every brush of your fingers against bare skin is worse than most other tortures you’d endured. It’s accidental, the scrape of your nail against your nipple through thin material and the moan that rips free is more like a choked cry. Every move after that feels like another is in control of your body, forcing your limbs to move, willing your fingers to trail beneath the waistband of your pants and past the soft cotton of your underwear.

“I ran you a bath—“ The rest is abruptly cut off, every single muscle in Azriel’s body going stiff at the sight of you sprawled out on the kitchen floor with so much skin on display. Golden eyes catch on the heaving fullness of your breasts spilling from the confines of your top, the frenzied hand tucked in your leathers and Azriel physically stumbles back when the intensity of your scent fully hits him. “Fuck.”

“I’m sorry,” Words slur together, frustrated tears falling down the curve of your cheeks and you’re too caught up in the temporary solace to be embarrassed about the crude behavior; the obscene squelching between your thighs. “I’m so sorry, I just can’t help it—hurts so bad.”

Azriel doesn’t reply, stunned in place and distantly he recognizes a familiar pressure in his brain. A feline voice laced with worry snapping him from his stupor. “Please tell me you’re close.”

“I need more time, Az.”

“She doesn’t have it,” The sight is pushed at Rhysand at warp speed, the sounds of his mate filling the conclaves of his mind.

There’s a pause, one that lasts a beat too long and Azriel begins to catch on to the plan his High Lord was brewing. “Then, help her.”

“Rhysand.”

“I trust you,” Rhys says a little softer, even if the words are laced with that territorial gruff. “Help her. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He can’t move, even if his shadows slink forward at the permission given. They’re cautious before touching you, just barely ghosting over the curve of your shoulder and the whimper that it pulls makes Azriel’s stomach clench. You lean into the cool touch that comes with the wisps of darkness, back arching at the feeling. “Where’s Rhys?”

“He’ll be here, he just needs a little more time.”

More tears fall, even if you do nod in understanding but your thoughts muddy together, unable to differentiate one sentence from the next as you forgo pants altogether. “I can’t wait anymore, Az. Please.” You’re not sure what you’re asking for exactly but you’re positively certain that your fingers aren’t enough. “Please touch me.”

He says your name so softly, crooning soothing words and tucking your hair away from your forehead. “Are you sure?”

You don’t answer with words, just eyes half-lidded and grip surprisingly gentle when grabbing for his wrist, guiding his hand to the sodden mess between your thighs. Azriel can’t fight his reaction to the slick arousal coating his fingers through your lacy underthings, head dipping back and eyes daring to close—savoring the feel of you. “I need you to make me feel better,” You don’t even sound like yourself, tone whiny and desperate as you hike your shirt over your head. “Please, can you do that for me? Please, please, please.”

Your hips buck up into the pressure of his fingers against you, squirming uncontrollably as he slowly pulls the fabric to the side and the first swipe of skin on skin is almost enough to bring you over the edge. “Alright,” Your name on his lips sends your nerves into a frenzy, hips wiggling just enough for one finger to sink into your cunt and the relief is instant. “I’ll make it better, just breathe for me, okay?”

It’s a simple request and yet still you have difficulty obeying as you chase the icy chill that quenches the burning inferno. Another finger follows the first and Azriel can’t tear his eyes away from the way your spine curves with each delicious drag of them against your walls. “Yes,” It comes out in a near hiss, teeth biting at the fat of your bottom lip as you grope at your chest. “Feels so fucking good.”

Maybe Azriel indulged just a little, taking extra time exploring the spots at had your eyes going lazy and when moans shift into breathy whines—Azriel submits completely. The taste of you on his tongue was unlike anything than he could’ve imagined, warm and sweet against his tongue like cookies dipped in warm milk. A string of swears tumble from your lips so fast he briefly wonders if it’s another language. He hums all the same, low vibrations sending goosebumps along your flesh and shadows take the place of your hands. Kneading at supple breasts and tugging on pert nipples until the onslaught of pleasure has you tensing beneath him. “That’s it,” He mutters against your sex, acutely aware of the throbbing erection straining against the binds of his leathers. “Feel better?”

Your body answers for you, tugging him close enough to feel the hardness of his length against your pussy. “Need more, Az.” One long drag against the stiff material and he’s groaning into your neck, holding up his weight on two strong arms and you can’t help but think about them holding you up against a wall, fucking up into you until your lungs gave out.

Azriel stares down at you, eyes dark and lips parted as if he could see exactly what filthy things were flashing behind your eyelids. “Relax, pretty girl.” Shadows tug at the binds holding his pants in place, dragging them down, down, down. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, arousal pooling between your legs with a slutty squelch. “I’m gonna take real good care of you.”

[sxcret-garden]

Ateez Reaction ღ When you get tired during sex [M]

ღ Ateez all members x fem-bodied!reader ღ genre: smut, some fluff, reaction ღ warnings: none

Desc.: In which you get tired while having sex with them and they take over for you - inspired by this ask.

Hongjoong:

You’re not really as focused as usually when you’re lazily sucking him off that evening. The past few stressful days have taken a toll on you, and he realizes it too, because even though he’s enjoying himself, Hongjoong soon cups your face with his hand, bringing some distance between you and him. “You’re tired, aren’t you?” he guesses correctly, and you furrow your eyebrows in regret. You just wanted to spend some time making your boyfriend feel good, but with the way your eyelids are drooping, you don’t think you can keep it up much longer. So when he makes you lie down on the bed instead, him starting to remove your clothes while trailing kisses down your body, you’re surprised but also relieved. You let out sleepy moans at his ministrations and at the way his fingertips and lips are leaving soft touches all over, and when he starts eating you out, you hold onto his locks. Relaxing under his touch, it doesn’t take him long to make you cum, and when you pass out mere moments later, he’s right there to hold you close, making sure you’re sound asleep and that you can rest.

Seonghwa:

“Can’t go on, baby…” you mutter those words as you collapse half onto the bed and half against Seonghwa’s chest, who immediately wraps his arms around you to hold you close. Placing a kiss on your sweaty forehead, he lets you catch your breath from the many orgasms he’s given you that night. It’s clear that he still has some stamina left while you’ve run out completely, and you don’t want to ruin the mood for him, but you can also feel your body begging you for some rest. “It’s okay, baby…” he mutters, lips brushing against the tip of your nose and then your mouth. “Let me make you feel good one more time?” he asks, and when you see him gazing at you, you find nothing but adoration and lust in his eyes. His fingertips are dancing down your body, and when you understand what he wants to do, you nod. Even just him letting his fingers run up and down your folds makes heat rush to your core, and with careful touches he doesn’t take long to have you seeing stars again. Within mere moments you find yourself whining his name with his digits inside you, as he slowly fingers you towards your last orgasm that night.

Yunho:

You don’t know what’s wrong with your body today, but you sure as hell are cursing it when you suddenly lose all strength as you’re in the middle of riding your boyfriend. You were both moaning at the pleasure mere moments ago, but now a few pained noises escape you as your legs are starting to cramp and you eventually crawl off him with a regretful “sorry”. “What’s wrong?” Yunho immediately asks, watching as you somehow try to find relief by stretching out your legs. “Just a cramp…” you inform him, and he patiently waits until you signal him that you feel okay again. “Let’s continue like this then, hm?” Your boyfriend crawls on top of you slowly, pressing a kiss to your lips that eventually grows more passionate, and next thing you know he’s lying on top of you, pushing up into you. You throw your head back upon having him back inside you, and you immediately reach out to wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Is that better, baby?” he mutters in between scattering kisses all over your neck, rolling his hips against yours at a steady pace. You can only moan in response as he keeps hitting that sweet spot inside of you, and soon you find yourselves back to chasing your highs.

Yeosang:

You’re taking your time going down on your boyfriend and worshipping his body with touches and kisses and nips when you feel the pending headache finally setting in. And you curse yourself because of the sudden pain that’s interrupting your desperately needed alone time with him, especially because the second you stop your ministrations, his deep moans also cease. “Y/N…? Are you okay?” he calls out to you once it dawns on him that something must’ve happened, and filled with regret, you crawl back up to place an apologetic kiss on his cheek before telling him about your headache. He furrows his brows at you, immediately putting his hands onto your shoulders softly, and you can tell that your pain must be visible from his reaction. “Do you want to stop and go to sleep?” However, you shake your head - you really want to spend some more time with him, but he won’t let you overexert yourself, worried that the pain might become worse. “Then how about we turn things around…?” You nod and close your eyes, the darkness offering some relief for you, and Yeosang starts massaging your temples, before he begins scattering soft kisses all over your body, and eventually he starts touching you where you need him most as the relaxation from his touches proves as an effective remedy against the pain. 

San:

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asks you in the softest of voices when you’re slowing down on top of him. You had seemed full of energy when you two started getting it on that night, confidently crawling into his lap and riding him, but as exhaustion overwhelmed you, your movements inevitably lost power. He had been so into it as well, but as soon as San noticed something’s off, his mood changed completely. You avoid looking at him as you have to admit to yourself that maybe you’re too tired to keep going, but as you mumble an apology, he’s quick to cup your face with his hands, thumbs brushing against your cheeks in comforting motions and he shakes his head at you. “Don’t say sorry… should I take over, baby?” He speaks so softly too, you think your chest is about to overflow with warmth upon having him care about you like this, and when you nod he carefully switches your positions. With him on top of you now, you throw your arms around his shoulders as he goes slow. Scattering kisses all over your chest and collarbones and eventually melting against you in a deep kiss, he makes love to you like that.

Mingi:

You had been sleepy to begin with when your attention started drifting away from the movie you had decided to watch with your boyfriend, and instead you two started lazily making out. You feel yourself relax under Mingi’s soft kisses and the way his hands are exploring your body through your clothes, and soon enough hands are down each other’s pants and you’re starting to get each other off. However, when your eyelids are starting to droop you realize just how tired you are, and a slightly offended Mingi calls you out on it. “Am I being that boring…?” You know he’s at least half-joking, but still you feel bad for him. So you explain that you’re just really tired from the day and as you tell yourself to pull yourself together, you say it’s just fine to keep going. However, it wouldn’t be Mingi if he let you do any kind of work in that state, so he takes your hand away from his core, and as you’re about to question his actions, he sinks down onto the ground in front of the sofa. Pulling your pants down and throwing them somewhere else, he lifts your legs up onto his shoulders, leaving a trail of kisses up your inner thigh. “Don’t worry about me,” he mutters, “let me make you feel good instead.” And then he begins lazily eating you out, and you bet it doesn’t take him long to wake up your mind as he brings you closer to your high.

Wooyoung:

He’s fully indulging in the experience as he has you on top of him, teasing him and riling him up while barely touching him where he needs you the most. And you can’t say you’re not getting energy from the way he’s whining and begging for you, but eventually the exhaustion of the horrible day you had today catches up with you, and it brings you down earlier than you had hoped. You feel bad that you have to let your boyfriend down like this, but still you think it’s only fair to let him know that you’re too tired to keep this up and that maybe you should continue another time. But he’s not stupid, and he already sensed that something was off about you today, so he merely sits up and wraps his arms around you in response. “It’s okay, babe,” he says, a bit out of breath still. “Should we stop? Or do you want me to take care of you?” And of course there’s no way you could say no to that offer, so you ask him for the latter. Without hesitation he makes you switch positions, and while placing a few kisses in your neck, he adds, “I’ll go slow.” Making sure you get your share as well, he lets his hands roam your body until he can hear you moaning softly at his ministrations. Only then does he help you wrap your legs around his hips, pushing inside you to fuck you slow and nice.

Jongho:

You’ve been going at it for a while now as you’re desperately fighting off the exhaustion in your body while clinging to his shoulders. You’re on top of him, hoping for just one more orgasm, but even with him steadying you and helping you out with his thumb pressed to your clit, you eventually just feel your legs giving out, faced with the fact that you simply don’t have the strength to go on. So when you collapse against him while hissing a curse, he’s quick to catch you, letting you rest for a few seconds. “I’ll take over,” he simply informs you, his voice quiet, and then he flips your positions with ease, helping you wrap your legs around him and then reaching for your wrists to pin you down on the bed. “That okay?” he asks, and as soon as you nod, he starts rolling his hips against yours, slowly at first. You’re still frustrated though, and as if he could sense that, he presses a soft kiss onto your lips, adding, “It’s okay. I’ll give you what you need.” It doesn’t take him long to find just the right pace that leaves you begging him for more, dragging out the process and teasing you just as much as you can take. And when he finally fucks you hard enough to have you seeing starts, you can be sure he’ll have you racing towards another high in no time.

[bunji-enthusiast]

Slides you a paper, simple lil request

Reader is talking to Dogday and not watching where their going, they nearly fall off a ledge but Dogday, catching them, decides they don't need to walk and will thus be carried.

Ps. Lil Dogday with legs idea ^^

Note || combining these two requests cause I can.

Sypnosis || your companion seemed to be very strong, carrying you in spite of your protests.

DogDay –

Being as it is, you were hurt. Badly enough as it is, he was beginning to get worried. On the off hand, you had done so much for him already, giving back his legs so he could walk and even freeing him way before that. Your body seemed to be sorely injured, yet you always pushed on. You always liked helping people and toys alike where you can, so as long as they were sane and not conceivable in the far off ends of pure insanity after being in the factory for so long.

DogDay was, in a way, very impressed with how you managed to get so far. But now, he simply wasn’t having it.

“I swear, ‘Go back to bed, you’ll feel better in the morning’ haha–” You wanted to continue, being so enthralled with talking to DogDay who was tentatively listening to you as you two had made your roundabouts yet other things had occurred. With a yelp escaping you, you slipped and fell.

“AH!” You closed your eyes, seeing you tripped off of a ledge. Suddenly, you realize that someone had caught you. DogDay, he held you close to his chest, as if he was fearing you would get hurt again. “Angel, you should take a break from walking for a while… ok?” DogDay had tilted his head slightly at you, as if he wanted to be sure you had heard what he said.

You nodded, a little caught off guard by this sudden change in his outward personality. As if he was taking on the role of a protective familiar member, it gave you a sense of nostalgia. You sighed as your head laid against his chest, noticing the fact one arm of his was cradling your legs, the other holding your back.

“Ah fine…”

CatNap –

The crash was terrible, leaving you on the tracks numb and in pain. You didn’t understand what was happening, only blacking out and leaving the realm of the conscious for a period of time (though seemingly it felt very long). Your dreams felt terrible, running away and trying to scrape by at every possible moment. Though it was relief enough when you realized you were just asleep, though one thing had remained strange however. 

Were you… being carried by someone, you didn’t get a good look at the said body. You blinked your eyes, trying to tide away the blurriness ebbing at your peripherals. You cry out when you finally make the connection, CatNap, the one you had seen before all those years ago before being recalled was carrying you. 

Like a kitten being carried by the scruff apparently? You couldn’t get a good look.

‘Gods… it hurts.’ you thought to yourself, knowing full well wherever that CatNap was carrying you was not going to be a good or even convenient location in any case. You were slightly panicked, but more put off by how heavily you could hear CatNap breathing. “You really need to work out..” You pause for a moment, feeling the pain sharp in your skin like thousands of thousands of needles rubbing straight in. “More often.” At this, CatNap paused, causing you to think he was probably surprised at your choice of words. Oh, the look on his face was one you most wished to see right now.

Though he had finally resumed, continuing to walk despite the fact he had just paused for a good minute or so. 

You wonder if he was truly well intentioned at the very moment.

[lundenloves]

DAD SIMON AND THE 141 VISITING TO CHECK THE KID OUT FOR THE FIRST TIME PLAPSSLSLSPSLSLSK AND HE GETS SO JEALOUS WHEN OTHERS HOLD HIS SWEET BABY PATOOTIE PRINCesss

↳ no warnings | f!reader | 1.6k

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Anon, I may have strayed from your original thoughts a little. I hold my hands up. At this point, he has been back and had time with her already this is just 141 meeting her. And it's very? Thought-provoking? Possibly not how you imagined? Alas, voila.

Having a newborn allowed for zero quiet. Nothing of the sort was even imagined, sleep was out the window and tiredness was the new trend. It became tougher when Simon had to go back to work, leaving you behind with a long apology and his credit card. What was the card for? You weren’t sure, but made sure it was used like fuck. £17.32 on McDonald’s delivery didn’t seem as painful with his money.

And that’s exactly what you were doing, happily. Baby sleeping on your almost bare chest with a haul of food around you in bed. It was only seven but you had no reason to be up and about, and the reality tv wasn’t going to catch up on itself.

In fact, you were about to reach the episode climax of Love Island. Someone had been mugged off and the producers were keen on making a drama of it, issuing a re-coupling. But. Right before you could skip the credits and fast-track to the next episode, the bedroom door swung open and you screamed. Waking your daughter who naturally began to cry.

"Fucking hell." You frowned at Simon who had quickly shut the door behind him upon seeing you. He wasn't due back till tomorrow. "Scared me.” The scold in your voice was one he ignored, picking up a milk-stained shirt from the floor.

“Put something on, christ.” His voice gruff as he shrugged his jacket off and reached for another t-shirt after wearily tossing the other back to the floor, holding it out. “What, Me?” Black-painted eyes narrowed at you upon holding his child out to him, asking for a trade.

“No. The other person in the room.” You deadpanned, widening your eyes in silent effort for him to take her. “Yes, you.” He did as told, looking down at his daughter blankly. “What’s the rush anyway.”

Although, your question was answered by a loud echo of laughs from downstairs. “All of them?” In reference to the only three men it could be.

“I didn’t agree.” He met your eyes, holding the baby back out to you for the brief second you passed him. Sauntering out to the hallway before he had called your name stiffly, eyes pleading relief of the absolute fucking threat that was his baby. “Take her.”

“You’re fine.” You waved a hand, walking downstairs with him reluctantly following.

It was a shame really, you couldn’t help but snort at the way he held her so high up his chest. “Don’t let Johnny hog her.” Was the only instruction you gave, wandering through to the kitchen where his unit were stood.

“Alright?” The Scot rubbed your shoulder in greeting, “Solid birth n’ all that?” His brows furrowed in genuine care although the question was worded oddly.

“Solid. Johnny.”

He tsked, clutching a hand to his opposite bicep. “Tends to be like that, ae.”

“Speaking from experience?”

He laughed although his eyes fell from yours to over your shoulder. Price held his hand on your back in acknowledgment, his eyes softening with a nod your way. “Christ.” He muttered at the sight in Simon’s arms, taking his hand back and removing his hat. “Congratulations.”

Gaz wrapped an arm around you, leaning his head atop of yours on his shoulder. “It’s mad.” He said more to himself than anyone else, catching eyes with Soap who for once was lost on what to say.

Simon’s eyes were stuck on the baby in his arms, refusing to look up and see the group reaction. Her small hand reached upward, and his finger met her halfway, face unchanged as she wrapped her hand around it. No one said or did anything, only Price who took a step forward to pat the lieutenant's shoulder. The moment was tender, and understood by everyone as such a thing even by Johnny who crossed his arms over his chest and contrastingly pout his bottom lip out to you. “You wanna hold her?” You spoke to him, crossing the space to Simon who had finally looked up. 

“Go on, then.” He pushed his jacket off, hanging it on the back of the kitchen chair. Simon’s eyes met Soap’s, a look of trust, threat and relief spread across his face when you had prompted him to hand her over. “Just a wee thing, ae?” He comfortably took her from Ghost, gently bouncing her and smiling when she had cooed.

“Tiny.” Gaz added, looking to Simon who shifted in his spot - looking around the room, finding comfort in anything other than the tiny being. He was still so unsure of himself. Arms crossed together over his chest in anxious replacement of the tac vest he would usually slot his thumbs into. “Fresh to the world.” 

“Five weeks old.” You looked at Gaz. “Brand. New.”

He shook his head at the idea of a baby, looking to Price who was subtly enough fixated on his lieutenant. “How’re you doing, Simon?” He asked firmly, in a tone Simon wouldn’t ignore or sigh at, one he recognised as important. A tone of order.

“Fine.” He kept it brief, locking eyes with Price who nodded slowly. 

It was hard to read Simon. Period. Even after years being with him, you still couldn’t predict the way he was feeling or what he was going to say about a situation. He distanced himself from his daughter the first few days, intentionally waiting until you woke to sort her out instead of facing himself and his past in the form of the harmless baby.

His allowed paternity leave wasn’t granted extension of more than a week, therefore he left you. And admittedly, although he wouldn’t ever say it, he was glad to get some time away. It had only been a week and he was already itching to be alone, no words you spoke could comfort him. Only the mindless living of a deployment. His desired remedy. 

Ghost was dead silent that whole mission. The unit knew why, although they were tightly instructed by Price to keep their mouths shut. Not to even ask about the kid. So they didn’t, not until today, when it was brought up by the man himself. “Ask about the kid, then.” He said gruffly, unlacing his boots and stomping his feet wide of each other, eyes darting between the three men opposite him.

“She alright, yeah?” Soap asked, receiving a dull nod. 

“We’d love to meet her sometime.” Price continued cautiously, looking to Simon who then nodded, eyes dropping to his boots. There was a moment of silence before he had spoken up in answer to Price, elbows rest on his knees, hands clasped together and rubbing against his mouth. “You don’t live too far from base do you?”

“An hour.” He cleared his throat, “I live an hour away.” 

“We could stop by,” Price was the one to suggest it, dipping to reach a bag behind Soap’s drawer. “This is, from, us.” He rubbed the back of his neck, holding the small gift bag out to Ghost who only looked up at it. 

“I’m going home tonight.” He said matter of factly. “Just.” A sigh. “Tail me and hand it in to her, she’ll appreciate it better than I will.” Soap smirked at Simon’s falsified reluctance, a hidden invite into his lieutenant's domestic life was on the table and of course he jumped at it. 

And you? You knew Simon had given a skeleton of an invite. It was obvious. 

So now, as your daughter had been passed to Price from Gaz, it felt oddly comforting to you. For Simon, you couldn’t tell as much from the way he was constantly sighing and moving in his spot - obviously discomforted by the idea of his unit being in such an intimate space of his but it was blown over by the end of the short visit. “She’s going to be tall.” Price tilted his head at the baby, thumb swiping across her small arm.

“Oh aye.” Johnny nodded, nudging Simon who stared down at her. “Think she’ll have your eyes?” His efforts granted a shrug from the man next to him.

“The colour keeps changing, but,” You caressed her head in Price’s arms, “They are his shape.” The tone of your voice warming Simon enough for the thought of a smile, the side of his lip curling just enough. 

Gaz nodded to a bag Soap had left on the counter, “There’s some stuff. We didn’t get much time.” He reached for it, holding it out to you. The purpose of the trip.

“And there’s a card with some money.” Johnny added, “See yous’ round the New Year for the wee yin.” The bag had generic baby gifts inside, although it swelled your heart to think of three large military men shopping around for each thing inside

And the card was a treasure in itself, one you would certainly keep, handing it to Simon so you could hug Gaz and Soap, receiving a kiss to your cheek from Price after taking the baby back. “Maybe see you lot closer to Christmas?” You asked, bouncing your daughter when she had begun to stir.

“Course.” Price nodded to Simon, following the other two out the door. You heard them talking about the baby from the threshold, watching as they piled into their respective cars and pulled off with waves and a single salute from Soap. Because, Soap.

Simon sighed once the door was shut, looking down at you. There was something between warmth and sympathy in his eyes, wrapping an arm around the back of your neck and kissing your temple. “You putting this up?” He mumbled, holding out the card before pressing his thumb and pointer finger together against his daughter’s tiny feet in sudden affection. 

“On the mantel for now, probably.” You rubbed his arm, following him through to the living room. 

There was new lightheartedness around him after they had left. Like having his unit meeting his daughter was somehow a weight that had finally been shrugged off after the fact. Even prodding a few more kisses than you would usually receive from him. His brain worked in mysterious ways, although you were not complaining. 

Not now anyway.

simon 'ghost' riley taglist: @vamppxncess @freakonfilm @crowbird @misshoneypaper @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @abbugadu @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @mistydeyes @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkjoequinn @gressseyy

[neckromantics]

You find that now Astarion’s able to feed regularly on “quality” blood, the stronger he becomes, and with that strength comes certain abilities he didn’t know he could possess.

In 5e, vampire spawn are supposed to be pretty strong and fast. (As well as possessing regenerative powers, and spider climb among a few other things.) So, what if Astarion’s lack of super strength and other such things is due to the way he was kept weakened under Cazador’s control?

Like maybe he’s recently fed and he feels especially great this time. Neither of you really think much of it. (You’re just happy he feels good. Happy to see the flush of pink at the tips of his ears and apples of his cheeks.) Maybe you’re in the middle of a fight and you get careless. You hear the swish of a blade at your back, but never feel an impact. You turn to see that Astarion’s saved your ass the only way vampire instinct knew how in that moment, which was to just reach out and grab your attacker’s sword before it could spill any of your precious blood. By the blade.

If he wasn’t wearing those special armored gloves you’d found a few days before he’d probably have lost a few fingers. The steel bends back in his grip as if it’s made of rubber, and there’s a very comical split second where your heads snap toward one another to share matching looks of “what the fuck??” Before the fighting continues.

MAYBE one day you watch the guy get stabbed. Like, impaled in a way that should have meant Withers is about to be dragged out here by his dusty ass robes to perform some quick resurrecting or else. It takes longer than you’d like to get free enough to make a break for him, but when you do you nearly knock poor Shadowheart on her ass in your hurry to pass. Every millisecond feels like an hour. Your heart pounds in your ears so loudly that you can’t hear the scream of the creature before him as you take it down with a single blow.

In hindsight, you must have looked ridiculous. Overdramatic, even, considering you don’t have time to fuss over him as he lie bleeding like you assumed he would be. Your hands tremble in front of you as you watch him stand up from his crouched position. His pretty face is screwed up in a way that you first assumed meant great pain, but now you realize he’s just ? Surprised? Well, that makes two of you at least.

Astarion’s leather armor hits the dirt with a dull thud. With pursed lips and a bit of a hum, he’s lifting up the hem of his bloodied tunic. Pale fingers swipe thick crimson away from his belly to reveal the soft, unmarred skin that lay beneath. You nearly faint right then and there, and that asshole just laughs. Positively elated.

After a moment, a long moment, you start to laugh alongside him. It’s shaky with relief. Disbelief.

He plants a quick, cheeky kiss to the side of your head for your heroic efforts, anyway. You just learn to roll with it.

Maybe one day you walk into your room at the Elfsong, and nearly jump out of your skin when you find him sitting cross-legged on the ceiling. Just full on chilling, looking pleased as punch to have found something else he didn’t know was possible for him. You obviously just stand there and stare at him like ??? for a while. It’s endearing how happy he looks with that smug little smirk, pale curls wild and clothes sitting odd on his frame from the change in gravity.

When you ask, all he can really say is that it just kind of happened? That he very suddenly felt like being up, and logically that meant he should try crawling up the wall to satisfy that craving. He’d been up there for a couple hours before you showed up- even took a little bit of a rest to pass the time. You wish you were there to see his face when he found out- to hear the mad little giggles that spilled from his lips when he stood up from his scuttling and just hung upside down in disbelief because why in the hells didn’t he find out about this one sooner?

(Maybe if you ask nicely, he’ll bring you up there with him on his back just so you can see how strange everything looks from high up on the ceiling. Maybe you’ll use it as an opportunity to scare the ((figurative)) pants off of Gale when he eventually comes looking for you. Endless entertainment.)

Anyway, you feed the guy regular enough and I imagine there is so much to discover about him that the two of you will be entertained for years to come. Who knows, maybe one day you’ll wake up to a fluffy white bat flying circles around the ceiling of your bedroom, and at that point it won’t even be a real surprise to you.