#Nails IV drip

[timelesshealthclinic]

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[derangedthots]

i have a particular fondness for scenes in media that read like sex scenes even tho no sex is actually happening...which is also why the last jacemond scene in ch1 of CTF is one of my fav things i've ever written😶‍🌫️🥰

[criminalamnesia]

the 141 x reader fic that you did was so yummy!!! pls make them suffer the wrath of reader and make 141 realise how much they need them when they leave,

your work is so amazing btw and your way with words is simply ✨chef’s kiss✨ (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o)))♡

thank you!! here’s part 3 :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

angry didn’t even begin to describe how you felt as you slammed the door to price’s office behind you.

you were tense, muscles taut and poised to fight. your fists clenched at your sides, blunt nails digging into your palms hard enough to hurt. your jaw was clenched, teeth grinding together as you resisted the urge to march back in there and unleash your fury.

no. not like this. not when you weren’t a hundred percent. not when they would still look at you like you were a wounded doe, stumbling around on broken legs.

in the back of your mind, you can hear that psychologist saying ‘this anger will eat you alive if you let it. you need to let it out somehow.’

you inhaled, unclenched your fists, and made up your mind. you pulled the iv from your arm, wincing at the pinch of the needle.

you left the iv pole standing there as you made your way to the gym.

the gym was empty when you arrived, which made sense for this time of day. many would be occupied by drills or in the mess hall. others would be sleeping off long nights. you had the place to yourself, and you were grateful for the absence of watchful eyes and sweetened tongues.

you were tired of those who knew nothing acting like they knew something. of those who apologized or asked if you were okay. word spread like wildfire around base, and the subject of your ‘betrayal’ had been front-page news since the start of the witch hunt.

the gym door clicked shut behind you, and you surveyed the room. you knew your doctor would have a fit once you returned to the infirmary, and that she probably wouldn’t let you out alone again, but you didn’t really care.

you needed to let off some steam, and the best way you knew how was with your fists. either you start swinging at a bag or at a certain someone’s face. the bag won’t be condescending, and that makes your choice easy.

you approach one of the bright red punching bags in the corner. it’s scratched and taped from where someone had busted it open. scars that didn’t go away, that wouldn’t— just like yours.

you huffed. it didn’t do any good to start feeling sorry for yourself. you hadn’t done anything wrong. your team had.

you stretch your arms out in front of you, fingers interlocking to pop your knuckles. you catch sight of your severed finger, still healing. they’d recovered what had been chopped off, but hadn’t been able to save it.

just another permanent reminder, something to make sure you didn’t dare forget. you didn’t think you ever would regardless.

you shook out your hands and rolled your shoulders back. fists raised, you angled yourself towards the bag. feet spread, shoulders squared, thumb tucked under your fingers instead of inside. a stance that was second nature after years of sparring and hand-to-hand drills.

the bag was firm when your fist connected with it. you would have been lying if you said it didn’t hurt. you punched with the other hand— same results. the time you’d spent confined to an infirmary bed had done a number on you. muscles had atrophied, bones had weakened. the leg you’d suffered a bone-deep cut to shook under your weight.

you didn’t care. you kept punching, your breathing picking up as your emotions guided you. sweat dripped into your eyes and rolled down your back. you felt weak, physically and mentally. you hated feeling this way, and so you punched harder.

“slow down,” a voice grumbled from behind you.

you ignored him, continuing to punch the bag. you hadn’t heard the door open, nor heard the sound of him approaching, but you would have been surprised if you did.

simon always had a penchant for sneaking up on people, intentionally or not.

“gonna pass out if y’don’t stop,” he said after a minute. you could feel his eyes on you. you ignored him again.

you didn’t need to turn around to know he was standing there with his arms crossed, eyes full of something unreadable.

“stop,” he says firmly, and you sense his movement as he surges forward. his hand lands heavily on your shoulder, pulling you back from the punching bag. you heave in a breath before spinning around and punching him in the nose.

simon stumbles back a step, eyes widened slightly. for someone who prided himself on being so observant, he clearly didn’t see that coming. it made you feel the tiniest bit smug that you’d caught him off guard for once.

you dropped your hands to your knees then, squeezing your eyes shut as a wave of nausea washed over you. damn the bastard, he had been right. you shouldn’t have even been in here in the first place, let alone exerted yourself as much as you had.

your hands were shaking as you tried to pull yourself together. you opened your eyes to see drops of blood on the gym floor, by your feet. you had split your knuckles open.

there were also drops of blood at simon’s feet. you looked up then, slowly straightening your posture. he’d removed his mask, his face bare as he stared at you. blood dripped from his nose.

“gonna have to hit harder than that if y’want to break it,” he says, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“did you follow me in here?”

“no.” he says, and you’re giving a mirthless laugh.

“oh, please. im sure price sent you, yeah? you’ve always been his little lap dog. he says ‘jump’ and you say ‘how high,’ isn’t that right, lieutenant?”

your tone is tense, angry. you throw his title in his face, seeing as he’d been so quick to remind you of yours back in price’s office.

simon watches you, and you want to tackle him. he had always been quiet, always stoic. you’d been with him for years, but you still didn’t think you’d broken down all of his walls.

he was so good at masking his thoughts, his feelings. you weren’t. soap had always called you an open book. whenever you were mad or upset, everyone knew it.

no one knew anything about simon unless he wanted them to. it drove you mad then, and it was sure as hell driving you mad now.

“you need to get back to the infirmary,” he tells you. he wipes the back of his hand under his nose, smearing red across his skin. for a moment, you want to chastise him, reach up and wipe the remnants from his face.

you quickly shake that thought from your head. what is it they say— old habits die hard?

these habits would die if you had to strangle each one with your bare hands. anything you harbored for the four men on your team, for the one you’d called yours, was dead and gone.

“fuck off,” you tell him.

“why are you so damn stubborn?” he says then, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him start to crack since everything had happened. emotions are beginning to leak through his stony exterior, whether he means them to or not.

“you don’t get to tell me what to do anymore. none of you do,” you say, and you take a step forward then, eyes blazing as you stare up at him. “not after what you did.”

he doesn’t speak for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. his eyes never leave yours.

“it shouldn’t have happened like that.” he tells you. you scoff.

“like that? you mean the four of you torturing me? tying me up and mutilating me like I was just another fucking target?” your voice was rising as you took another step forward, shoving a finger into his chest.

“if I’d treated you like another target,” he said, tone even. “you would’ve been dead.”

“so you showed me mercy, is that it?” you bared your teeth, a hollow laugh escaping your throat. “oh, thank you simon. I really felt that fucking mercy when you cut off my finger, and when you cut through layers of skin to get to bone.”

you inhaled before continuing. “I should be grateful then, right? is that what you want from me? for me to recognize your fucking ‘mercy’ and take you back? take you all back?”

he just stands there. you can see his jaw clench, but he makes no move to speak. you find it funny that he hasn’t even tried to apologize. john, your ever prideful captain, had swallowed his failure and pleaded for your forgiveness.

johnny and kyle would surely have done the same if they’d had the chance to speak to you, even if they only had a minute.

but simon? simon doesn’t. he doesn’t outwardly admit his wrongs. he doesn’t apologize. doesn’t seem sorry, even. you don’t know what’s going on inside his head, but you find yourself not really caring to know.

the fact that he can’t bring himself to admit, in blunt words, that he had astronomically fucked up and that he felt even the slightest bit of remorse, told you everything you needed to know.

cold, stoic ghost. you hadn’t been afraid of him when you’d first joined the squad, and you weren’t afraid of him now.

but back then, you’d wanted to break down those stone walls of his. you’d wanted to be someone he felt safe around, someone who knew him inside and out.

now, you’re packing your time with him into a box in your mind and dumping it into the trash. simon riley means nothing to you now.

“take your mercy and shove it up your ass,” you tell him. you step back and drop your hand, your eyes still locked on his.

“and by the way,” you say as you start towards the door. he doesn’t turn around, doesn’t move an inch. it’s as if he’s rooted to the spot.

“you should’ve just killed me.”

author’s note:

not really sure how I feel about this one tbh. I have plans for a part four, but I’m not quite sure how long I’ll be making this series.

and as for simon— I want to write an extra part about his thoughts/feelings about everything. let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in!

anyways, let me know your thoughts please :) (I honestly may end up deleting this and rewriting it when I’m not tired lol)

taglist: @preeyansha @igotmajordaddyissues @nanatheoaktree @aesthetic0cherryblossom @oceanicexolorer @soph121212 @liv2post @cupid-eclipse @angels-despair18 @k4marina

[misserabella]

ive been so obsessed with bbf ellie recently, so can we get a bbf ellie where ellie and reader fuck when the brother is sleeping or not home and like ellie fucks reader ROUGH telling her to keep quiet while the strap is deep🤭

don’t make a sound

bbf! ellie williams x fem! reader

cw; +18 content! minors dni!, teasing, name calling, degradation, praise, no use of y/n, voyeurism kinda??, strap on usage (r receiving), harsh rough sex, ellie has a dirty mouth, sub! reader and dom! ellie, hickeys, hair pulling, oral sex (e receiving), cum eating, face riding (r receiving)…

“that’s it. nice and quiet. don’t want your brother to wake up, hm?”

it’s late at night. the moon is dampening your room in soft strokes with its light. the hair is damp with the smell of sex, and is filled with your gasps and ellie’s soft grunts.

she’s deep into your cunt, roughly fucking her cock into your walls, which squelches with every harsh thrust and snap of her hips.

your brother’s room is right beside yours. and the walls are so thin you can hear his snores. you were fucking his best friend just a room away. you were letting her split you open with her strap over and over again as you try to contain your moans of pleasure because she’s doing it so good… she’s so good, she feels so good…

“feeling good, princess?” you babble, nodding. “yeah of course you do. you’ve been waiting for this the whole day, haven’t you? fucking slut. teasing me running around showing your panties while i’m at your home just so i fuck you, huh? are you that needy for it? do you want me that badly, baby?” you nodded, gasping when a hand surrounded your neck. “speak up.”

“yes, fuck, yes.” you moaned, watching her chuckle.

“of course you do. look at you. you’re fucking dripping. taking my cock like it’s nothing, hm? it slides in and out so easily…” she bit down on her lip, looking in between both your bodies and pressing you harder against the wall she was fucking you against, her free hand holding your leg up around her waist to fuck you deeper, harder. you’re a mess, slick sounds of your pussy taking her pounding filling the room. a particularly loud whimper falling off your lips making the grip around your neck tighten. “shut the fuck up.” she spat. “shut the fuck up and take it.” her lips latched to your neck, damp kisses being given to your skin. “fuck. wanna mark you up. should i, baby? let your brother see what her best friend does to you when he’s not watching, hm?” you moaned. “you’d like that, wouldn’t you. dirty girl…”

“ellie…” you sighed, her lips now on your chest.

“maybe i could do it here, hm? where he won’t see. it’ll be our little secret.” she smirked, seeing you whimper as she harshly sucked on your skin, bruising you, marking you. “all mine. all fucking mine.” she groaned, speeding up her thrusts. one of your hands, that were surrounding her neck, laced on her hair, tugging and making her grunt.

“fuck, fuck, fuck!” you cried out. you could feel yourself stumbling towards your orgasm, the warmth of your lower stomach spreading all over your body. ellie pushed her tongue inside your mouth to try and silence you up as she felt you squeezing her cock harder. “i’m gonna cum. i’m cumming, i’m cumming…!” you gasped, your nails digging on her back and tightening on her hair as you felt it coming.

“that’s it. cum for me. cream my fucking cock.” her words easily pushed you over the edge. “good girl. fuck. good fucking girl.” she grunted, fucking you through it, blissed out by your expression, although she had to kiss you again to muffle your screams. “so fucking loud… can’t keep fucking you like this. you’re gonna wake up your brother.” you whimpered when she pulled out, leaving you empty and in need for more. “get on your knees.” she ordered, pushing down on your head until your shaky knees were bobbling and letting you fall onto the floor. you watched as she unbuckled her strap, throwing it aside. your mouth watered at the sight of her soaked folds and puffy throbbing clit. “eat my pussy. that’ll keep your mouth busy.” she smirked at the dumb look in your eyes. “what’s the matter, baby? you look hungry.” she chuckled, one of her hands cupping the back of your head to push you closer to her cunt. “just open up for me, hm? stick your tongue out.” you did as she said, showing her your tongue, and she groaned. “just a pretty slut hungry for pussy, aren’t you? then eat it.” she grunted at the feeling of your mouth on her once she had buried your face on her cunt. “fuuuuck. that’s it baby. eat my pussy.” she sighed as you lapped at her slick with a pathetic whine, your hands holding onto her thighs as she tugged on your hair and bucked her hips against your mouth. you were drunk on her. she tasted so good. the strong tang of her arousal filling your mouth as you slurped her juices. you latched onto her clit, making her softly moan as you suckled on it, looking up at her through your lashes. “shit. you have a mouth on you, don’t you? so fucking good at eating your brothers best friend’s pussy, huh?” you hummed against her, lapping at her. she had been so close from the back of the strap bumping against her clit than just a couple of licks from you had her bordering the edge. “want me to cum on your face, princess? fill your mouth up with my cum?” you nodded, sucking at her clit as she humped you face. “of course you do. flatten your tongue up for me, gonna ride it.” you flattened your tongue and she started to thrust harder against it, stimulating her clit. “shit, gonna cum baby, gonna cum in that pretty mouth of yours.” she was panting, gasping, searching for her release. and with one, two, three more thrusts she was reaching it. “fuuuuck.” she groaned, her head tilting backwards, her throat bobbing with a gulp. you licked her though it, eating up her cum, drinking every last drop of it.

and the sight of your chin and lips dripping with her cum, convinced ellie that this wouldn’t be the last time she’d be fucking you.

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic!Danny Phantom- pt. 8

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.7] [Pt.9] [Pt.10]

If I had a nickel for every time I’ve been to the hospital in the past three years, I’d have enough money to buy a bag of skittles from Target. Most of it wasn’t for me though lol I’ll add this onto the list in a bit, but I tend to do that from my desktop but I’m still currently attached to an IV drip. I’ve also never been this hydrated in my life lmao

——

Danny poked a puffed up pufferfish. The poison floated through his ghost form and did nothing but give him a little zap. Danny chuckled, wiping away a bit of oil that had gotten onto the fish from a nearby oil spill. Jesus fuck. Danny knew that bald headed, easily drawn Vlad wannabe from across the river would do something terrible to Gotham’s waters (not that it needed help being atrocious to Danny’s clean water appreciation).

The puffer fish- Danny gave up on understanding Gotham’s water ecosystem, having realized that it was a cursed mix of saltwater and freshwater and swamp- gave a fearful little wiggle and Danny let it go, turning to the oil particles floating around.

Danny took out his phone.

“Danny? Why the hell are you calling at three in the morning?”

Danny raised a hand and blasted out some ice, gathering the oil up. “Hey Sam. If I got you into contact with Poison Ivy, do you think you could team up to get rid of Lex Luthor’s new holding company in Gotham?”

“Danny, are you asking me to commit an act of ecoterrorism?”

“That’s not even the weirdest thing I’ve ever asked you to do.” Danny placed a hand on the ice mass and flew it, the oil, and himself across the river to Metropolis.

“Deal.” Sam’s voice gets further away as she pulled her phone from her ear. “I’ll text Tucker, see if he could futz with Luthor’s taxes. I heard her doesn’t even give his workers a livable wage, and that’s so not gonna fly.”

“Perfect! Thanks! We could totally meet up and hang out with my new friends!”

“Hah! That Tim guy? The one that wanted you to introduce Phantom to him?”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, goth girl.”

“Sure, dork. I’ll swing by Friday?”

“Sure! Want me to pick you up?” Danny phased through Lex Luthor’s frankly ridiculous amounts of security measures, still completely invisible and towing a giant mass of oil covered ice.

“Cool. Now hang up. I actually need sleep.”

“Ah, you must be dead tired. I get it.”

Sam hung up, and a second later, Danny got a pic of her holding up a middle finger with her signature purple nail polish.

Danny stared down at the sleeping billionaire. Gross. He let his face re enter the visible spectrum and lowered the temperature of the room drastically. Luthor groaned, waking up as he shivered like a hyped up chihuahua.

Danny bared his teeth, glowing green skin reflecting the black holes of the universe and imploding stars and burning planets as he leaned towards the frozen two bit villain.

“RESPECT THE PLANET,” Danny snarled. He unmelted the invisible ice as he simultaneously made the oil visible, the entirety of the oil spill coating every single inch of Luthor’s penthouse bedroom. Danny winked out, but not before snapping a quick picture of Lex Luthor’s absolutely covered in his company’s oil spill.

If Danny had made sure that there were fish droppings mixed in with the oil… that was his own damn business.

——

Danny floated over to a brooding Batman.

“Do you have two hundred dollars on you?” Danny asked in lieu of a greeting.

Batman grunted a yes.

“Two hundred dollars for a photo of Lex Luthor being hit with karma.”

Batman instantly handed over the cash and received a printed out photo of Lex Luthor (in his Lexcorp pjs) covered by fossil fuel.

"Is this..."

"The oil from his oil spill? Yes."

Batman stared at the picture.

"Why was this more expensive than ID'ing corpses?"

"Cause it's funnier. And dead people deserve more consideration than a egg looking ass polluting everything he touches."

Superman zoomed into the space in front of them, face eager.

"I heard you had something about Luthor?"

Danny figured that Batman probably contacted the hero, and confidently said, "$200 for personal use, $300 for commercial use."

Superman quickly got together three hundred dollars in cash and quickly forked it over. Danny gave him another physical copy of the photo and a usb drive with the photo in a digital format.

"I am so pinning this up." Superman muttered.

"Get out of my city." Batman said flatly. Superman waved a hand, beamed at Danny, and left.

"Did you know Gotham's waters is a mixture of freshwater, swamp, and saltwater habitats?"

Batman grunted.

"Also, please stop stalking Danny Fenton. It's odd."

Batman swiveled his head over. "What."

Danny stared him down. "Stop. Stalking. Innocent. Bystanders. Or else I will recreate the phrase "drowned rat" with you as the subject."

Batman stilled.

"I don't kill, by the way. I can, however, dunk you in the sea and lift you up like a goth version of Simba."

Batman relaxed minutely. "I can't."

"And why not?"

Batman gave him a despairing look. "Have you met my children?"

"... Point."

[melobin]

✧ videos that remind me of each riize member

a compilation of nsfw links that remind me of each member of riize ot7 … if the link isn’t working be sure you’re viewing it through safari/google not through the tumblr mobile app browser. for now ive done three links for each member but in the future i can do more if you all like these types of thing!!

shotaro

link. - shotaro loves fucking you from behind, he loves your ass more than anything and he loves when you fuck yourself back on his cock. gives him to opportunity to kneel back and watch how his cock disappears inside of you as well as how your ass moves against him.

link. - the kind of video he sends you when you’re away from him .. one thing about shotaro is that he loves nipple stimulation and he always makes it known to you. fisting his cock with one hand.. playing with his nipple with the other. always makes sure you know how hard it makes him cum every time.

link. - sub!shotaro .. he’s so cute !! whiny .. squirmy. physically cant stay still no matter how hard he tries. edging him is always fun, making him tell you when he’s about to cum so you can stop touching his cock, playing with his nipples whilst he squirms and begs for you to let him cum .. he’s so sweet.

eunseok

link. - eunseok gets pussy drunk, that’s the best way to describe it. he can’t help it, when he’s inside of you he just needs to fuck you silly. his hands are always gripping your skin so tightly, fingers digging into you, always leaving prints and sometimes even nail marks behind.

link. - spanking .. pussy slapping .. playing with your clit. he’s so mean !! he loves how weak and whiny you get from it, he especially loves how much you get off on the pain. in his eyes it’s adorable that you get so wet and desperate from his spanking your ass, his sweet baby can’t go five minutes without wanting his cock inside of her.

link. - eunseok is rough. he just can’t help but stop fucking you so he can slap and play with your tits.. pulling and squeezing your nipple to make you squirm and whine in pain, slapping your face just to catch you off guard before fucking you again. he knows you like it .. he likes it even more when you slap him back.

sungchan

link. - sungchan is just so big .. especially his cock. he loves positions that let him get as deep as possible inside of you as well as letting him manhandle and grab every inch of you. spooning sex is perfect for that.. can he balls deep inside of you whilst grabbing your tits .. slapping your ass.. wrapping his hand around your throat…

link. - sungchan’s size kink is out of this world. he loves how much smaller you are compared to him, how he can manhandle you and move you however he wants. he especially loves how his cock looks like it would tear you in half if you sat on it but you always take him so well.. that’s what the cock training was good for.

link. - sungchan loves finger fucking you till you’re a dripping mess, he gets off on the squelching sounds his fingers make when they’re inside of you. thinks it’s amusing out fucked out you can get just from that alone … the lips on your neck just give him the ability to laugh lowly in your ear and call you a needy little thing …

wonbin

link. - wonbin loves kissing your neck whilst he fucks you, it’s one of the only things that keeps him quiet.. any other time he’s just as vocal as you are. sometimes he just loses composure, needs to fuck you till you’re digging your nails into his skin and crying out for him. he just loves being close to you.. especially bringing his hands up to squeeze your tits when he’s calming himself down post orgasm.

link. - wonbin loves holding your hands when he fucks you, loves how your fingers dig into his skin as his thrusts get harder sharper. those are the times he’d be looking down at you, letting his necklace ghost over your face with each thrust.. admiring how pretty his sweet girl looks under him whilst she’s getting fucked.

link. - it’s rough but intimate.. wonbin’s dream. fucking you from behind, wrapping his hand around your throat so he can hear your choked out moans. the forehead kiss is almost like him silently telling you how well you’re taking his cock and the kiss is just because he wants to be close to you. he loves having his lips on yours whilst he fucks you, obsessed with the way you moan and pant into his mouth with each thrust.

seunghan

link. - seunghan loves stretching you out with his cock.. holding your legs up gives him the perfect view of his cock stretching out your cunt.. he loves being able to see himself disappear inside of you, loves watching how you needily swallow every inch of his cock.

link. - sex with seunghan can get intense. he loves being close to you, being able to touch and kiss every inch of you. often finds home with his tongue on your cunt and usually gets really into eating you out. thinks you taste like heaven and wants to get every last drop of it on his tongue. won’t stop him from finger fucking you till you’re crying then fucking you brainless after though.

link. - sometimes seunghan can be mean. it’s not too often it happens but when it does.. he basks in watching you be overstimulated and fucked out. having you dressed so prettily with your hands cuffed behind your back and a vibrator pressed against your cunt .. he thrives in those moments, laughing at you whilst cooing about how he wouldn’t have to punish you if you’d just be good for him.

sohee

link. - sohee loves tasting you.. loves pressing his tongue against your cunt and savouring your flavour. the soft kisses, the gentle flicks of his tongue. he’s lazy but he also likes taking his time with you. loves how wet you get because of it.. how he can slide his fingers into you and leave kisses along the rest of your body before wrapping his lips around your nipple.

link. - he loves kissing you. loves having you on his lap whilst you make out.. will happily watch you kiss down his body and take his cock into your mouth. he genuinely thinks you look your prettiest whilst sucking him off so he savours the moment as much as he can. watches you in adoration as you undress yourself and sink down into his cock before kissing him again .. he’s in love with you.

link. - it’s rare. but sometimes sohee loses all self control and just has to fuck you. he’s not one who gets rough often and he really isn’t one for public sex but sometimes, sometimes he’s just so insatiable that he has to have you no matter where you are. even if that means fucking you in a random closest of the building you’re in.

anton

link. - anton and his love for you in short skirts .. really enjoys watching you grind needily against his hand whilst stroking his cock .. he loves knowing how desperate you are for him. plus.. makes you keep the skirt on when you fuck because he thinks you look so pretty in it.

link. - anton just loves you in skirts and dresses. loves fucking you in them too. if you’re wearing one, he’ll spend the entire day thinking about having you on his cock. needs to have you sinking down on it before you take it off so he can watch his cock slide into you under the material.

link. - he loves fucking you from behind. loves how needy you get as he fucks you, how you whine and look behind your shoulder to look at him. takes a lot of self restraint for him to not just grab your hair and yank on it so your back is pressed to his chest.. but it would give him the power to grab your jaw and kiss you while fucking you.. which he always loves to do.

[harmonictechnicality]

Eddie develops a strange habit after sex. It’s not exactly cute or romantic or nice. Nothing bad either. It’s just… well, Steve isn’t too sure what it is. But every time, it’s the same damn thing.

He collapses onto Steve’s chest and says:

“My boyfriend is a cyborg.”

Usually, Steve is still recovering from the fucking downpour of post-orgasm endorphins. So he doesn’t question it. Hell, he stopped challenging Eddie’s tolerance to geek out months ago. Dude holds fantasy knowledge in his brain better than he holds his liquor.

Which is saying a lot.

Anyways, Steve never has the mental capacity to react or respond. Instead, he runs his fingers through Eddie’s sweat-soaked hair for awhile. Scratches out little patterns on his scalp because it always makes Eddie go limp. Quiet.

Quiet is a rarity for him. And while Steve is totally weak for Eddie’s chattiness, the quiet can be nice too.

The only reason Steve finally decides to ask about it is because Eddie slips up. Says it before they have sex.

Steve is against the bedroom door, his nails dragging down Eddie’s back. God, he loves this kind of kissing. The lung draining kind. The type that’s sort of filthy from all the heat and grinding. 

Eddie hasn’t marked him up this bad since that time someone at work noticed his neck. Asked if Steve was having an allergic reaction during an office-wide meeting.

And this is going to be even worse. Steve can tell by the sounds and the soft pricks of Eddie’s teeth. He can tell by how long Eddie spends over each spot, like the bruising skin needs more attention than the rest of him. Like licking them over will make the colors last longer.

The damage has been done. Really no point in stopping him when it feels so fucking good. Steve forgets to worry about  how mauled he’s gonna look tomorrow because his head is swimming with Eddie’s lips on his neck. His collarbone. His chest.

That’s when it happens. That’s when Eddie’s strange habit makes an early appearance. 

He kisses over the blistery mess he made, practically growls the words out this time: 

“My boyfriend is a cyborg.”

“Okay, time out.” Steve says. Heaves some air back into his lungs. Pulls Eddie’s face up before he can continue making Steve look like goddamn target practice. 

Eddie blinks a few times. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” Gonna have to wear fucking high-collared shirts all week, but whatever.

He’ll bring that up some other time. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“Saying what?”

“That… thing.” Steve barely can spit it out.  It’s like his throat is physically rejecting the nerdy shit he’s about to say. “You keep calling me… a cyborg or something.” 

“Oh that.” Eddie sighs. Casually shrugs to one side. “It’s your fault actually.”

“How is it my fault? I don’t even know what fucking language you’re speaking.”

Eddie walks over to the bed, chanting Steve’s name over and over. Definitely not in the way Steve prefers him to chant his name. Very un-sexy chanting.

“Remember that day you asked me to grab your car keys?” He asks, patting the bed for Steve to join him. 

No. “Kinda?”

Steve hesitates before walking over. He didn’t necessarily wanna stop their primal makeout session. But it was bound to lead to the bed at some point, so…

Just not like this. Not talking while fully clothed. Blech.

He sits next to Eddie. Hands awkwardly fidgeting in his lap.

“Well, I couldn’t find them.” Eddie admits. “So I ended up going through your desk drawers.”

Of course he did. Perpetual snooper.

“Ended up finding a binder full of medical records.”

Well shit.

Steve’s throat tightens. Swells around the sudden guilt he feels for keeping this from Eddie. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a metal plate in your head?”

“Dunno. Hardly even remember it.” That’s only partly true. Steve doesn’t remember the surgery or much of the recovery process. He was only a kid when it happened.

But he does remember the hospital smells. He remembers the sounds of his IV bag dripping throughout the night. All the sensory indicators are still fresh in his mind.

“Well, that’s why. You're part-machine.” Eddie points to Steve’s head, expression softening. “And every time we fuck around, I think about your bionic skull. And how glad I am that it keeps your brain from leaking out when I bend you over the way you like it best.”

Steve laughs. The jokes help lighten the mood. Not enough to replace it entirely, but enough for it to be easy to swallow again. 

They’re both quiet as they get ready for bed, folding the covers down. And yeah, sometimes quiet can be nice. Just maybe not right now.

“Hey, Eddie.”

“Yeah?”

Steve stares hard at the pillows. “Are cyborgs like… cool?”

Eddie pauses for a moment, then hops onto the bed. Starts crawling over to Steve with a smug grin. He lifts up to meet Steve’s lips. Kisses him sweeter than normal. Lighter. Starts nodding his head mid-kiss, keeps nodding as he breaks away.

“Yeah, babe. Cyborgs are so fucking cool.”

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

ways/methods to torture your fictional character in a medical setting

♡♡♡ for writers to use as an inspiration for their novels/fanfictions only, I’m not a psychopath ♡♡♡

medical whump never fails to give me all the best whumperflies!

trigger warnings: description of abuse, dehumanization, nonsexual nudity and blood

physical restraints (chains, handcuffs, straightjacket, strapping them down to the bed by their wrists and ankles, etc)

I should just mention that straightjacket is one of my personal favorites

electroconvulsive therapy aka shock therapy

force feeding (via a plastic tube through their nose or mouth into their stomach)

shock collar

being forcefully shoved and held down to the ground, cheek against the cold floor

ice pick lobotomy

character getting stripped against their will

strong jets of water assaulting the character’s skin through a hose as a way to clean them

rough handling from the orderlies results in the character getting bruises all over their skin

waterboarding

getting their nails trimmed so they can’t hurt themself or others

character getting put into a hospital gown against their will is so underrated, actually

intubation against the character’s will — bonus if the character is still somewhat conscious

doses of anesthetic into the character’s bloodstream via an injection or through an iv drip to render them unconscious so that they can’t hurt themself or others

when the character is so drugged out of their mind that they’re too groggy to fight or struggle as things are being done to them; they’re half conscious still, they just can’t fight, even though they’re not restrained physically

blood draws — bonus if it gots to the point the character feels dizzy, cold and generally disoriented from losing too much blood

vivisection :)

[upsidedownwithsteve]

A soulmate AU: Steve Harrington x fem!reader [4.6K]

THE TIMELINE

"Oh, won't you stay, just a little bit longer. Please let me hear, you say that you will, Say you will."

- Stay By Maurice Williams and The Zodiacs

IV. MOUNTAIN LAKE, VIRGINA: 1963

The man in front of you was not part of your vacation plans. He was half naked, sweaty, annoyed and scowling. The man in front of you was a stranger. 

Except he wasn’t. 

Was he?

You knew his name by now, something you’d only learnt on Monday, or perhaps the day before. Steve, Steve Herringbone or Barrington or something. He didn’t like it when you called him Steven and he certainly didn’t like it when you argued back. 

But this was supposed to be a getaway, a small summer break where you could maybe sneak a smoke by the lake when everyone had returned to their cabins and the geriatric morning yoga was done. Except your dad knew the owner of the summer retreat, a huge house settled in the Virginia countryside, the forest greener than it was back home. Bauman’s Mountain House was host to many golf courses, a fencing team, seventeen rowboats, an archery club, the best water aerobics in the state and an award winning dance show. 

The very latter included the man in front of you. 

Tall, broad shouldered and tanned from the summer, Steve Harrington was handsome and painstakingly so. Brown hair that he always tried to tame by pushing his hand through it, brown eyes and too many freckles to count. He wore a gold chain around his throat, black slacks and a leather jacket on his days off, driving around the resort in a BMW that made too much noise, but he didn’t seem to care. 

He cared even less about his bad reputation and loud ways when his partner broke her foot weeks before the final show, a tiny girl called Nancy that you were unreasonably jealous of at first sight. You watched them both on your first night, sat between your mother and father as they took to the stage, dancing flawlessly, fluidly, like they were one whole person. You watched the way she touched him, an easy familiarity that had your stomach feeling unsettled and something inside of you burned when her hand brushed the man’s neck, holding onto him as he dipped her low, her fingers trapping two little moles and hiding them from sight. 

You’d blamed the cheap cocktails and called it a night. 

But then your father found him arguing with Mr Bauman about the show and suddenly you were volunteered against your own volition, your parents talking loudly and proudly about talent shows and dance lessons when you were much younger, boldly exaggerating about how must’ve been a dancer in another life as you shook your head and tried to escape back to the gazebo by the shoreline.

Now you were left spending your evenings with Steve Harrington and his tight trousers in a cabin that was much smaller than your own. There was a leak in the corner, a consistent drip from a missing nail in the roof and rainwater splashed against the wooden floor as if it were counting down the seconds. 

As if it were counting down to— something. 

It had rained every night since you had started seeing Steve, the stifling afternoons giving way to humid evenings that always started to smell like rain by six o’clock, sweet tea and lemonade taken over by the scent of a new downpour. There had been threats of storms, chattering of it during breakfast in the main dining hall, grumbles of it from groundskeepers during bowling on the green. 

But nothing wild, not yet. 

Steve had scowled the entire time he was with you, minutes and hours spent with a frown on his face as he did his best to avoid touching you, mumbling something about getting the timings right, about learning the steps and the footwork before putting it all together. It was tedious now, repetitive and too warm in his small room and even with the bed pushed to the wall, there was barely space to avoid brushing up against him when you moved. 

You were flushed, skin shining with a thin layer of sweat and the same sheen made Steve’s lips look glossy, his hair sticking to his forehead in curls and flicks. You rolled your eyes when he hit rewind on the tape deck, a silent order for you to take it from the top. But you didn’t move as he made quick work on his buttons, undoing them one by one until his short sleeved shirt hung open, showing off far too much skin. Lean muscle and a smattering of hair across his pecs, more skating down the line of his navel and you sucked in a breath, pretending you hadn’t stood on your own foot. 

“It’s too fuckin’ warm,” he complained, circling you as he spoke, watching you for more errors, inspecting your footwork, your posture, the way your held your head up and squared off your shoulders. 

“No shit,” you couldn’t help but bite back. “How’d you think I feel?”

You wore denim shorts to his black slacks, but your cotton T-shirt was sticking to your torso now, the baby pink material too heavy and restricting for the heat inside the cabin. You pressed your lips together and moved, eyes on the wall ahead of you, your right foot moving in front of your left before you twisted your hips half a turn and—

“Take it off, then.”

You blinked, your framework going slack as you dropped both your arms and your jaw. You were hardly prudish, but something about this man had set you on edge since you’d first seen him. An electrical buzz every time you looked at him, fizzing through your bones, an invisible string tied to your insides pulling and pulling and pulling you closer. You’d ignored it until these dance practices, always turning in the other direction, putting the entire resort between you both. 

But now… now?

He was standing all of three feet away, cheeks flushed from the heat and his chest on show, his hands behind his head and his fingers buried in his hair in frustration as he stared at you. Like he was challenging you. The muscles in his arms were flexed, taut cords and lines that showed off how hard he work at his job and you couldn’t help but stare. 

“What?” You demanded it, a bite of an answer. 

“Your shirt,” Steve nodded to the pink material, brows raised like it were obvious. He almost rolled his eyes. “Take it off.”

Above you, the rain outside fell a little harder, a consistent din against the thin roof. 

You didn’t say anything. You just hoped you didn’t lose your cool as you reached for the hem of your t-shirt, untucking it from your shorts. The cotton stuck to you uncomfortably, dragging against your skin as you raised it up and over your head, the brief second where your eyesight was blinded a terrifying prospect. 

Was he looking? At you? Was he watching? Did he care?

By the time you’d balled up the offending fabric and tossed it in the corner, Steve had turned his back to you, pressing some buttons on the tape deck until the song - some kind of mambo - played for the beginning again. You couldn’t see his face but you wondered if he’d caught sight of your bra, as plain as it may have been. White cotton, thin with scalloped edges and a tiny pink bow between the cups. Hardly sexy, nothing near scandalous, but there was certainly a lot more skin showing now. 

Slick, damp skin that you wondered if he’d touch. It was like he wasn’t allowed to, the way he skirted around you all of the time, his hands shoved into his pockets when he wasn’t demonstrating the next step, a fist pressed to his chin as he watched you repeat his instructions, a wide palm always hovering just out of reach of your lower back when he scolded you for slouching, like he’d went to put his hands on you - only to pull catch himself at the last second. 

“You gotta loosen your hips,” Steve’s voice interrupted your thoughts as he turned back around. His eyes were on the floor before he finally dragged them up your legs and over your bare stomach. He sucked in a breath. “You’re too rigid.”

“You told me to hold my shoulders,” you retorted, knowing fine well that he’d bitched about your ‘noodle arms’ for days. 

“Yeah, your upper body needs to be squared off. Hold yourself tight from here up,” Steve gestured to your waist with the side of his hand. He didn’t touch you, but you could feel the heat radiate from him. “But from here?” He tapped at the button on your shorts. 

You froze. 

“From here down, you need to put a bit of swing in the hips, alright?” He spun, putting himself behind you but you could see him in the mirror that leant against the cabin wall, an old looking thing that was too ornate to be here. Once gold, it had carvings of cherubs on the frame, tiny wreaths and rosettes intertwined with ancient style busts. “It’s a mambo, sweetheart, put a little heat into it.”

The tape begun again and Steve leant against a dresser, arms folded across his bare chest, his open shirt plastered to his skin. He watched you, waiting. The intro played and you counted the beats, nodding your head to each note and before you could hit the mark. Thunder rumbled somewhere outside and you were suddenly reminded of a man that looked like Steve, standing and watching you like that in a room much smaller than this, lit by firelight, dressed like a fighter. 

“You missed the count,” Steve sighed, exasperated. 

His hair had been longer, his face bruised and bleeding, but it looked just like him. A familiar scene, like you’d maybe seen it in a movie, but it felt more like a dream you didn’t recall having. You looked down at your feet, chest heaving, lips parted in confusion and you were only more dazed when you saw your bare legs and not the long skirts you expected. Your body didn’t feel like yours, not really. 

Like it was borrowed, or broken. 

You turned, facing Steve as if you expected him to be dressed differently, in leathers and studs and pleats, but he was still the same, just looking at you as if you’d suddenly fallen ill. Maybe you had. 

“Drink some water,” he ordered, and yes, that sounded like a really good idea. “Then we’ll go again.”

You chugged the bottle, the water tepid and hard to swallow but you gulped it down greedily, praying against heat stroke or whatever else it could be that could be plaguing you with such hallucinations. You swiped at your lips and closed your eyes before you turned back to the boy and when you did, he looked the same as he always did. 

Annoyed, tired, pretty. 

“C’mere,” Steve said briskly, crooking a finger at you. You stepped towards him, unsure of what he was asking you, lingering awkwardly with a few feet of space between you. Steve huffed and rolled his eyes. “Jesus, I mean— here.”

He touched you then, his hand reaching out to grasp your own as he pulled you forward, closer than you’d ever been. There was barely space for a prayer between you both. 

You thought that his hand in yours would’ve made you feel something, a spark, a fizz, that buzz that you felt in your bones around him. But something else settled over you instead, a strange familiarity, a longing for a home you didn’t know or didn’t remember, like Steve touching you was hardly anything new. His touch made you think of the sea, of vast gardens, of islands and storms and great wars, ruby wine and promises that seemed impossible to keep. 

From the unsettled look in Steve’s eye as he stared down at you, you thought that maybe he felt the same thing. 

But then he was fussing, moving his feet into the right position and mumbling about your stance. His hand took you with him as he moved, less than an inch separating your bare stomach from his and you let him direct you as he pleased, waiting for the song to reply from the top. The drums began, a cacophony of instruments you’d never be able to name joining in. 

And then Steve was counting, his eyes suddenly fixed on yours as he nodded to the beat. “And five, six, seven—”

Steve’s other hand was on your waist. 

His palm felt huge, big enough to envelop your side and his thumb was pressed into the soft of your belly, just below your ribcage. His fingers were splayed out over your bare back, his skin warm against your own and you’d never felt so completely consumed by just one touch. You were reminded of white sheets and hazy mornings, the taste of fresh bread and an open window that looked out to blue skies and you could hear a fountain spraying water. 

But you were moving before you could consider it, what it meant, what it was, if it was possible to have someone else’s memories trapped in your head. Steve moved and you followed, your feet chasing his step by step as he walked you back and forth, his hips turning into yours on each beat, his shoulders set and his chin held high, ever the professional. 

“Don’t look at your feet,” he murmured, barely heard over the music. “Chin up. Look at me.”

You didn’t know how to tell him it hurt to do so, how looking into his eyes this close felt like giving in, it felt like being stitched back together without any medication. You had never been aware of any wounds in your body, but this man you barely knew seemed to fill the space very well. 

So you did, holding your breath until your chest burned, your eyes meeting Steve’s as you clasped his hand in your own and gripped his shoulder, letting him lead you around the cabin floor. The storm raged on, louder than before, more threatening now, like it was arguing, fighting, scolding. 

The rain poured harder and what little evening light there had been was now dampened, the setting sun hidden behind navy and violet coloured clouds - but the heat was just as oppressive. Steve turned you, a twist of his body that led into yours as you spun on your toes, and when he caught you— when he caught you, his hand moved lower, slipping down your overheated skin until his fingers grazed the denim waistband of your shorts. 

Maybe he saw you falter, maybe he saw your lips part, but Steve sucked in a breath and kept moving, his chest brushing your own as you stepped into his space as he danced into yours, torso meeting, separating, meeting, separating, meeting—

“Keep count,” he reminded you. “Keep counting the beats.” 

You nodded, Steve’s face startlingly closer than before, as if he’d forgotten his boundaries, the box he created with strong arms, the one that kept him professional as a dancer, standing tall and strong. Now his elbows were bent, his hand falling from yours so both of his palms could bracket your hips and it was too much, it was everything you’d ever wanted, it was something you felt like you’d once had. 

You just couldn’t remember who had taken it away from you. 

Lightning lit the cabin, the storm over the resort, the sky black. 

“Remember your hips,” he whispered, and god, god, his forehead was almost touching yours, his nose drawing a line against your own as his eyelids dropped and his lashes fanned his pink cheeks. His hands guided your waist, moving you from side to side, following the rhythm. “Listen to the beat.”  

You were sure he meant the music, but it was impossible to ignore the thud of his heart against your own chest. You could feel yours even more so, a constant drumming that seemed to seep into your bones, making them crack at the edges, something blooming between them, something new and old and familiar and exciting. 

Like driving into your street after a long vacation, like falling into your own bed after too many weeks away, smelling the laundry detergent that clung to everyone else that you loved. It felt hopeful, like the beginning of the morning when the only thing that had entered your thoughts was the way the sun looked in the sky, how pink it was, how the clouds seemed softer than the day before. 

Steve pushed at your hips, holding them as you swayed from side to side, your hands leaving the safety of his shoulders to slip up, holding the sides of his neck, the heat of his skin scalding your palms and he nodded, pupils blown wide and lips parted as he stared down at you in amazement, like he was seeing you for the very first time. 

Like he was seeing you for the first time after a very long time apart. 

“Good,” he told you softly, like he was still teaching you, like this was still professional. Like he hadn’t put his hand on your lower back and obliterated whatever wall someone else had built between you. Something that had once seemed so strong was knocked down so easily, like not even a god could keep it between you. “Good. Like that, just like that—”

He swore when you moved closer, emboldened by his pretty eyes and the way his gaze tracked down your chest, down your bare stomach. His fingers flexed on your hips, blunt nails tattooing your skin and you hoped the marks would stay there, you hoped they’d be there tomorrow so you could remember that this wasn’t a dream. 

His leg found its way between yours, the song finally slowing to the last few drumbeats and you knew this was the time where you were supposed to spin in Steve’s arms and raise your hand in a grand finish. But Steve tucked your hips close to his instead and let his thigh push into the seam of your denim shorts. 

The song that came on next was slower, lazier, languid. 

The singer had a deeper voice, the drums rolling with a dirtier beat and this wasn’t the mambo, this wasn’t a salsa and it certainly wasn’t anything you’d do in a ballroom never mind on stage in front of others. You’d seen this kind of dancing once before, the night after you first arrived at Bauman’s. You hadn’t meant it, but a walk along the lake after the sun had set had led you to a larger cabin at the back of the resort, where the lights were on and the music was loud. 

Music like this. 

A guy at the door with long curls and an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips had appraised you, one eyebrow lifted at your little white summer dress and tennis shoes. 

“You work here?” He’d asked and you had shaken your head, ready to walk back the way you came. “You a snitch?” He asked after a pause. 

Again, you shook your head ‘no’ and listened as the music inside got louder. The man, who you were sure you’d seen on stage during dinner, playing the guitar for the dining  guests, just shrugged. He’d nodded to a stack of beer crates at the side of the building.

“Grab a case and keep your mouth shut, alright?” He’d opened the door for you, the music louder than ever, the smell of smoke and weed and sweat pouring out. You remember how’d he grinned at you as you took in the sight. “Have fun, princess.”

It’s where you’d seen Steve for the second time, in the middle of a makeshift dance floor with the bow tie and dinner jacket he’d worn during his evening performance long gone. Moving with a girl with his shirt buttons open, his hair a mess, grinding and manhandling her in a way you weren’t sure you would even call dancing. Everyone was doing the same, hips gyrating, skirts too short, men’s chests bare, the smiles meeting in an almost kiss.

It was nothing short of scandalous. 

You’d left, dumping the beer on a table beside a watermelon that almost rolled to the ground in your panic, turning from the crowd and walking out the way you’d came. The curly haired man had snorted at the sight of your wide eyes, calling out a goodbye between laughs. 

And here you were, not even two weeks later, doing the same, if not worse. Why worse? You and Steve were alone. 

Thunder cracked again, louder than before. 

It didn’t feel wrong to be doing this. In fact, for as much trouble as you’d be in if your father had had to catch you, everything about it felt right, like you’d done it before, like this man was yours to touch. But something that felt like danger lingered in the air, a threat far more serious than your dad or Mr Bauman. 

But still, you let your body move with Steve’s, a slow grind of your hips into his and when your hand found the nape of his neck and your fingers twisted into his hair, Steve’s palm cupped your ass, pulling you into him, making you feel how affected he was. 

It should’ve scared you. How this man was touching you, this person you barely knew, alone in a cabin and who you were so sure had hated you only a mere ten minutes before. But Steve looked as gone as you felt, eyes filled with longing, a passion that was visible, his brows knitted together as he stared down at you hungrily, lovingly, adoringly. 

It was almost too much to bear. So you let your head fall back, body slack as you kept dancing, trusting the man to keep you upright and against his own chest and you heard Steve let out a breath at the sight of your exposed neck, the long line of it offered to him like a sacrifice. 

“That’s it,” you heard him murmur. “You feel the beat now?” His words fell on your throat, your bare skin, the top of his nose drawing a line from the base of it to your jaw, his mouth following and you were so sure he wasn’t talking about the music anymore. 

But you nodded, clinging to him when he dipped you backwards, his hands holding you like you were precious, like you were made of marble and gold and suddenly you felt like Steve could’ve been. Like someone had taken a piece of the earth and grown this man from it, just for you. Like he had something ancient in his bones, like whatever he was made of you, you were created from the same thing too. 

When he pulled you back up, effortless and graceful, you were closer than before, impossibly so. Chests meeting in the middle as you both panted into each other's parted lips, noses meeting and foreheads touching. Steve’s hands were curled around your waist, fingers splayed across your naked back as if he couldn’t bear not to touch every part of you. Your hand was on his neck, your fingers brushing over two moles on his tanned skin, the ones you’d watched Nancy touch before you. 

But as you pressed your fingertips to them, your lips buzzed and Steve let out a sigh, like you’d unravelled a knot in his spine, like you’d found a magic button that fixed him. Like you’d touched a place that you’d once touched before. 

“You’ve never touched me before,” you whispered, voice cracking on each syllable because it suddenly was too much. 

Steve looked pained, lashes fluttering as his gaze dropped to your lips and he struggled to find the right words to give you. “I— I shouldn’t be doing it now,” he murmured. “I’m not allowed.”

“Why? Because of your boss? My dad?” 

He grinned, a smirk that faltered too quickly and he shook his head, still not moving from you, his nose nudging yours as he struggled to keep himself from shifting closer still. “You’d think that should’ve been enough to keep me away.” Steve licked his lips and you tracked the movement, so sure that he’d taste like summer and salt and the peach tea from the diner. “Not even the threat of losing my damn job and house can keep me away from you.”

His words had an effect on you, breath hitching, chest aching. “Then who said you’re not allowed?”

The song was still going, a lazy beat that was easy to sway to, Steve’s leg still wedged between your thighs and his hands were wandering, sensual and slow, a whole other kind of dance over your skin. Fingers gripped at your waist before one hand trailed down your hip, over your bare thigh, ghosting over the line of your torn off shorts. He brought your thigh to his hip, hitching your leg high, pressing you both together until you could feel him all, until he could feel all of you.

Laid bare enough for you to feel like he could take the very soul of you from your body.

You found that you didn’t mind the idea of it at all.

“You’ll laugh at me,” Steve murmured but he didn’t sound embarrassed at all, like he didn’t actually believe that you would.

You shook your head, nose brushing against the tip of his and if you moved another inch, just one, you could’ve been kissing him, mouth slotting against his. “I won’t,” you promised.

“I started having dreams when you came,” Steve told you. “Dreams where it always rained and the sky was always dark. And there was a man there, a thing, maybe. But he felt ancient, older than the fucking world and he told me to stay away, to keep away from you.”

You didn’t laugh. No. No, in fact, you didn’t say a damn thing.

Steve laughed, breathless and without any humour, and his hand trailed back up your thigh as your leg dropped slowly to the floor. He spun you both, lazy and languid, but the world around you both still blurred. The cabin faded away, a mix of the low lights and the colours of his quilt on the bed. 

You could barely hear the storm, but god, it was the loudest it had been.

“I want to do ungodly things with you,” Steve confessed and he sounded pained, his throat tight with the same kind of emotion you felt, like you were both sharing the same heart. “I want to do ungodly things to you.”

“Steve--”

“I know it sounds crazy, but there’s somethin’-- somethin’ in the sky or in the goddamn cracks of the earth that’s telling me I shouldn’t.” His bottom lip grazed your top one, an almost kiss, a whisper of one, a mere idea of it. Hardly a touch. “That something real bad will happen if we do.”

You couldn’t explain it, just like you couldn’t explain your sudden proximity to the man, the achingly familiar closeness you felt. But you knew, somehow, some way, Steve was right. 

Tears stung your eyes, a fiery nip that you tried to blink away and when the music slowed to a stop and the next song began, Steve kept moving, your body melted to his, no space between either of you to be able to determine where you ended and he began.

Your voice cracked when you spoke. “What should we do?”

Steve took a breath before he answered, one hand coming up to push against your hairline, his palm coasting down your cheek, holding you, cherishing you. His touch was hot with adoration. 

“We can keep dancing.”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Surgery IV

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: You have bad days

Sometimes, you have a bad day.

Sometimes, everything is so overwhelming that all you can do is sob and cry and kick your little limbs out because your magic wiggles refuse to come out any other way.

You had a bad day today.

You don't know why. All you really know is that the hot sun blaring down on you and the loud noises from the Barca girls practicing had you bursting into tears and screaming your frustration.

Mami and Ingrid brought you home after that but you couldn't calm down.

Tears still drip down your cheeks as you hide your face in Ingrid's neck.

You're lying in bed with your mummies. Mami's very gently running her nails up and down your back and Ingrid's gently scratching at the very base of your scalp.

Bagheera's here too, curled up on the other side of you and Ingrid. She's a little sleepy but she's awake and looking at you and you blindly run your fingers through her fur.

"Mama," You say softly when Ingrid stops giving your scritches.

"Hmm?"

"More, please?" You sniffle and Ingrid's fingers gently continue as you wipe some of your tears away on her shirt.

You're extremely drained today. Everything was simultaneously too much and not enough.

You go completely lax and limp against Ingrid, your fingers still buried in Bagheera's fur.

"Should we take her to see someone?" Mapi asks quietly when she notices that you're fast asleep," These have been happening more frequently than before."

"The club said they were could recommend her to a behavioural therapist. We wouldn't have to be put on a waiting list."

Even though you're asleep, Ingrid doesn't stop gently scratching at your head.

"Would it help? I thought we were doing well."

"We're doing so well," Ingrid says," But there's no harm in getting extra help with her."

You shift in your sleep, somehow burying yourself even more into Ingrid, pulling your knees up to your chest in some crude copy of how Bagheera's sleeping.

Your bad day turns into a few bad days and then, finally a bad week.

Not a day goes by where you don't cry or whine or feel like everything is going wrong at once.

Your days end exactly the same, curled up like a cat on Ingrid's chest as she and Mami whisper soft things to you to help you calm down.

Today though, Mami and Ingrid have a day off and instead of doing things you usually do like sit in front of the washing machine or playing with your trucks, Mami gets you dressed properly.

You usually stay in your pyjamas when you're having a lazy day but Mami getting you dressed means you're going out somewhere.

You don't like that.

Ingrid tells you that you have a routine for a reason. You think she's right. You like your routine. It's fun and it's safe and you know exactly what you're going to do every single day.

This trip is different. Usually, when Mami and Ingrid change your routine, it's planned for weeks in advance and they remind you every day leading up to it.

The fact that they haven't is a little weird but Mami once told you that sometimes things change randomly so you presume it's one of those times.

You hold Ingrid's hand as you all walk to a strange building and Mami talks to the reception person. It's a bit like going to the doctor's or the dentist you think because there's a little waiting room with magazines that you all have to sit in.

You don't relinquish your hold on Ingrid's hand and tug on it. "Mama?" You ask," What're we doin'?"

Ingrid smiles at you. "We're here to talk to someone as a family."

You frown. "About another cat?"

You've not been very successful in getting Ingrid to let you and Mami get another cat but you think you're wearing her down. Mami says you must always persevere and you don't quite get what that means but you have a general idea.

Ingrid laughs. "Sorry, cub, but it's not about getting cat. We're just going to talk a little bit to the nice lady about stuff at home."

"I have to talk too?"

"Not if you don't want to," Mami promises you," You can play if you want."

It doesn't take long for the nice lady Ingrid was talking about to come to collect you all.

Ingrid and Mami sit on a comfy looking sofa opposite the lady's armchair. You glance between them both before Mami rises again to lead you over to one of those toys with the beads and the twisty bit of metal going through them.

She sits cross-legged with you on her lap and gently encourages you to play.

You do.

But you're hyperaware of the fact that the nice lady is watching you even though you know she's not staring. She's writing stuff down on a pad as Ingrid talks and you play with Mami but she keeps looking back at you every so often and that's a little unnerving.

You scratch at your wrists, your little blunt nails doing little to stop the magic wiggles in your body.

Mami stops you and she gives you a pointed look.

"What have I said?" She admonishes gently," We don't scratch ourselves, do we?"

You shake your head. "No."

"And why don't we scratch ourselves?"

"'Cause it's not being kind to our bodies."

"That's right, cub." Mami presses a kiss to your hairline. "And we must always be kind to our bodies."

You nod and accidentally catch the nice lady's eye. She's writing something again and that makes your magic wiggles get a bit worse.

You don't like running around and exercising around people you don't know even though Mami and Ingrid say it's the best way to get out your wiggles so you very slowly make your way over to Ingrid.

Your hand clenches and unclenches before you thrust it out towards her. "Mama," You say," løve, please (lion)."

Ingrid digs around in her bag for a moment before pulling out your lion toy and handing it to you.

You thank her before quickly hurrying off to sit on Mami again.

Usually, you don't have to sit on Mami to play but your magic wiggles have been weird this week and keep making you cry so you want to stick close.

Eventually, the nice lady comes closer and sits opposite you and Mami at the play table as you start moving the yellow trucks around.

You ignore her for the most part as you play, keeping a tight grip on your lion.

"I heard you speak in a different language to your Mama," The nice lady says and you shake your lion under the table to get out some of your magic wiggles.

"Ingrid speaks Norwegian," You say as you make the truck slam into one of the walls you've built.

"Do you speak Norwegian?"

"Little bit." You get back to work rebuilding your wall so you can knock it down again.

"Is she teaching you?"

You nod. "Mami's learning too. I'm better."

"That's nice," The nice lady says," I heard you were having a bad week."

"My magic wiggles wouldn't go away. I cried."

"That must really suck."

You nod. "Mami and Ingrid makes it better. We cuddle with Bagheera."

"And who is Bagheera?"

"Our cat. Mami says if I try really hard then Ingrid will let us get another one."

The nice lady keeps nodding and she even plays with you for a bit before she goes back to Ingrid, who she talks to for a few minutes before returning to you.

She shakes a little box at you and you peer closer to get a better look.

"Do you want a sticker?" She asks and you look at Mami for guidance.

Mami nods her permission.

"You got a lion?" You ask," 'Cause that's what I am."

The nice lady laughs and, despite her staring problem, you think you like her. "I do have a lion. Would you like it?"

"Please."

She hands you your new lion sticker and you take Ingrid's hand as you walk out.

"Why'd we go and see the lady?" You ask.

"Well," Mami says," She was just making sure you were good and healthy."

"That's what doctors do. Why'd we go to a new doctor?"

"She's not quite a doctor," Mami explains," She looks after little girls who have the same superpower as you."

You think that over for a moment before turning to look at Ingrid. "Mama, did the nice lady say I was healthy?"

"She did. She also gave us some ideas on how to help you during your bad days."

You pull a face. "I don't like my bad days."

"I know, cub," Ingrid says," But we've got better ways to help you now so you don't have as many."

You nod at that before an idea springs to mind. You tug on Ingrid's hand. "Mama," You say," Do you know what would make my bad days good?"

Ingrid laughs. "What, cub?"

"A new cat."

[timelesshealthclinic]

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[dewracle]

Animals

PAIRING - Sleep Token IV x GN! Reader

SUMMARY - IV fucks you and fills you, using your body for his own pleasure.

WARNINGS - NSFW, rough Sex, slight blood play, overstimulation, slight animal-like behavior

AUTHOR'S NOTE - I wrote most of this in July 2023 but added to it recently. A couple of people asked me privately for more IV content so this is for y'all. Very sorry it is kinda short, I am working on other projects for the future!

WORD COUNT - 755

Master List

IV has you pressed up into a breeding press, your knees next to your face as he pounds into you. The wet sound of your slick echoed through the room as his dick plunged deeper and deeper with each thrust. His teeth brushed against the heavy rapid heartbeat of your pulse.

“Mmm Fuck-! IV please baby!” You whine out, grabbing at his shoulders, clawing your way down to his forearms. The male growls lowly in your ear, pushing your legs together into one of his hands, now only using one while the other is buried in your hair. You whine softly at the pull, IV pulling your head to the side to bare more of your neck. His sharp fang-like teeth dig into your pulse causing your moans to echo throughout the room.

Your sweet voice driving him wild, growling louder as he pushes your legs to the side, positioning you on your side. Whining with tearful eyes you sniffle at him, eyes clouded over with bliss, voice meek and gooey with pleasure. Through the broken moans from his pounding, you throw your head back begging for the other, “Baby, please! You- You’re going to break me! Slowdown slowdown..!”

He pauses for a second, a sadistic smile on the vessel’s face, “Oh darling we’re just getting started.” Now his hips are thrusting faster, pushing you almost past your limits, hitting much deeper than you’ve ever reached with your pathetic little dildos and toys IV chuckles to himself at your little ah’s as he pushes deep inside of you. The wetness of the lube now spreading against his thighs, no matter how good he stretched you out with his thick fingers, he still needed lots of lube to open you.

You mewl out when his hands grab at your leg, his own nails digging into you, drawing whelps of blood from your fragile skin. The thick liquid running down your body and coating his fingers, he brought them to his mouth slowly. IV purposely made eye contact with you, snapping his fingers in your face when you wouldn’t focus on him. His tongue dipped out of his mouth, wrapping around his fingers, lapping the blood away. Spit and drool dripped from his now clean fingers, some landing on your hot sensitive skin.

Your slopping wet hole clenched around him at the sight of the vessel. Shifting, you reach up as best as your shaky hands can, pulling him into a heated kiss of tongue and teeth. He allows you, forcing himself closer to you, trying to rut into your sweet hole like an animal. 

A sharp gasp as you pulled away from the kiss, he had bitten your lip to the point of bleeding. IV’s eyes now staring at the crimson on your kiss-bruised lips. You let out a soft whimper as you feel yourself getting close to an orgasm, feeling the tight heat in your stomach coming to a close. 

“Baby! Baby,” You tried to warn him, the vessel only smiling and keeping his steady pace. “Let go for me bunny, cum all over my cock” 

The growl of his voice sent you over the edge, body tensing up as the wash of pleasure coated you. The scream you let out could be heard outside of the room, your voice cracking as you mewl for IV. He chuckles, covering your mouth to quiet you as he continues to chase his own pleasure, using your body for whatever he wants.

You tried squirming away from the intense onslaught of thrusts, his pace picking up as he got closer to cumming. You almost let out a sigh of relief when you left the tell-tell signs of his cock twitching roughly inside of you. IV’s soft moans were covered up as he buried himself in your neck, hips stuttering as he attempts to fuck you full. 

The two of you sat panting, cum dripping out of your hole while his cock softened inside of you. Everything was silent for a little bit as you shuffled your legs so they were on either side of IV, spread wide while his cock still rested inside of you. The vessel stared down at you, eyes unreadable while he rubbed at your thighs.

“Did so good for me baby… Filled me so well” The keen that ripped from IV’s voice at your comment almost broke your heart. You pulled him down to kiss you, lips brushing against one another, tender and almost timid compared to the others. “I’ve got you big guy…”

Master List

[gojobbg]

ravish | reader(f) x bf!yuji

pairing: reader(f) x bf!yuji (aged up)

synopsis: after days being gone for a mission, yuji comes home and loves on your body, particularly your mouth

warning(s): face fucking

a/n: just a small thang. to those who have sent asks, im working on them! school/work drains me but ive been making progress in all of them, i swear xo also do we prefer proper capitalization or all lower case writings? just tryna gage based on other smut ive seen.

It was a mystery to recall how you ended up in this predicament.

Your pink-haired lover had you stripped, the entirety of your body exposed before him. Your back was pressed against the cold wall of your bedroom, with your knees digging down against the beige carpet. And before you was your lover, your beloved curse user. And his painfully hard cock.

You couldn't hold contact with his eyes, but whenever you did leave sight of his tantalizing limb, you'd be met with dark, hungry eyes. Those jade orbs had you in a chokehold, especially with how many days its gone without looking at you. You could tell Yuji was preparing to pounce you, as his pensive expression worsened the small pool developing in your flower. He was admiring you, as it has been a week since he couldn't.

"you're so beautiful, m'love," he murmurs quietly. "how is my girlfriend this beautiful?" You shake your head shyly, unable to accept his compliments. But your face goes crimson when his toothy grin disappears, and his lips straighten. "m'gonna show you how beautiful you are..."

Gently, Yuji puts one of his hands on the back of your head, cushioning it against the hard wall behind you. With the other hand, he holds his twitchy cock and looks down at you adoringly. "let me in, love." Obediently, your lips separate.

"Good girl," he whispers before completely filling your mouth. He doesn't ease it in, his tip quickly reacquainting itself with the back of your throat. Tears well up in your eyes, your breathing comes unsteady. Muscular thighs and toned abs fill your blurred view as the taste of salt dragged along your tongue. Squelches from your salivating mouth supplemented the silence alongside Yuji's satisfying grunts. "you... take my cock so well, pretty girl. god, mmph, i missed you and this pretty little mouth of yours."

His member slid in and out of you with ease, his cock shining gloriously from your saliva. You could feel your honey spill from your flower, your cunt eagerly waiting its turn. You could barely breathe now, relying on your nose to keep you going. Albeit this fact, you didn't want Yuji to stop. You wanted him to use you as he so desired. To be loved and ravished by him.

"babygirl, your mouth feels... so fucking, ah good-!" He proceeds to go faster, his balls slapping your chin with each thrust. You moan around his cock, which earns you a throaty string of curses from your insatiable partner. "more... god, i want more."

He then grabs you by the base of your ponytail, pulling you away from the wall. With both hands to the sides of your head, he continues to face fuck you. His hands guide you, bobbing your head up and down his desperate shaft. Your thoughts were fucked empty, you could no longer think. All you knew was this cock, and nothing more.

"your mouth is so fucking hot, y/n, holy shit," he praises through grunts. Your chin began dripping with saliva, your hands holding onto his thighs in struggle. He chuckled at your nails digging into his legs, knowing you were reaching your limit. You could feel his veins shape into your cheeks, and on your tongue. "i'll fuck you as soon as you get me to cum in your mouth. help me out, will ya?"

You finally hollow your cheeks, your mouth completely coating his cock. Yuji hisses in ecstasy, his hands moving your head just a bit faster. His tip keeps hitting the back of your throat, now causing you to swallow each time. He feels the walls of your throat close, wanting nothing more than to shoot cum right down it. "baby, i'm gonna cum..." He warns you, sweat beginning to bead on his abs.

You hum around his cock in affirmation. He chuckles again before looking up, profanities jumping from his tongue. With one final thrust, he forces his entire shaft into your mouth, part of it housed in your throat. Your eyes widen when you felt his hot load burst and roll down into your throat. Your eyes itched from tears, and you kept gagging on his cock. He was so big, you couldn't handle it. It's only been a week, and your mouth was virgin to his length.

He pulls out slowly, with his tip bouncing off your bottom lip. "come," Yuji's warm smile welcomes you, with two hands being offered to you. You take his hands and rise, your knees burning from the carpet. "you did so good for me, baby," he murmurs, his index and thumb holding your wet chin. Your lips were pink and tender from his relief, and he quickly mends them with a passionate kiss. Calloused hands find their way to your ass, his fingers teasing your pussy a bit with precum ornate on his tips. "looks like your ready for me, baby."

You nod your head shyly, unable to get the words out. Yuji chuckles, a toothy smile illuminating your world. With a kiss on your head, he lowers himself to one of your ears. "since you sucked me off so well, i'm gonna fuck you until the sun comes up. does that sound like a plan, princess?"

[philistiniphagottini]

Oh my gods it's been a hot minute since I popped in. How are you doing love? I hope your days going well. Ive been pretty busy so I haven't had a chance to drop by. May please request from demon slayer Rengoku x chubby reader whos also a fighter but a little spicy? 😈 Man's is giving off vibes of praising, body worship, and a heavy breeding kink in my opinion. Please indulge yourself and me. Go feral my friend >:3 please and thank you 💙

Hi Meri! I'm so happy to see you, thanks for popping in. I'm doing mostly okay, I hope you have been well. And thank you for the request, I'm so happy that you keep coming back and supporting me. Thanks for indulging me, I hope you enjoy :D

cw. smut, penetrative sex, praise, body worship, breeding kink, female reader, chubby reader, MDNI

You could barely think; scarcely breathe under the insistent press of Rengoku’s searing body on top of yours. A salacious moan tickled the back of your throat as he bumped his hips into yours, thrusting his achingly hard cock deeper into your fat pussy. You whined and twisted between the sweat soaked sheets beneath you, fingers knotting in his wild mane of flaming locks as heat coiled in the pit of your stomach. 

"Ahh, Ren~" you whined, choking on a hiccup of pleasure. 

Rengoku hummed in response to your soft coos, spit soaked lips parted around moans of your name as it rolled around his mouth and warmed his parched throat like sticky sweet honey. Your trembling legs were pushed higher, knees pressing into the pillowy softness of your chest as your pebbling nipples brushed against your clammy skin, sending pleasant tingles to ripple along the curve of your arching back. Rengoku’s strong hands curled around your plump thighs, calloused fingers sinking into generous amounts of flesh until the soft pudge spilled between the splayed digits. The erotic sight made him grind into your harder. The tips of your ears burned red hot as your long, soused lashes fluttered over your flaming cheeks, another wanton moan crawling out of your throat as his cock sank deeper inside of you. Your dripping pussy swallowed around his dizzyingly thick girth, your insides turning to mush around the shape of his cock as beads of slick rolled down your sticky thighs. 

Your pretty cunt drooled around him as you felt him moving intimately beneath your soft belly, your nails clawing at the nape of his neck as your shuddering hips tried to match the ferocity of his eager thrusts. The hot coil twisting inside of your knotted tighter, the swollen nub of your clit aching and squealing in delight from the sparking friction of Rengoku’s pelvis clapping into the exposed nerve. You struggled to prevent your eyes from rolling into the back of your skull, your head stuffed full with so much cotton you could barely form a coherent thought, let alone sentence. Your pussy squeezed around Rengoku as he slipped deeper, brushing up against the soft, gummy patch inside of you that had stars swirling in your vision. 

"Good girl" Rengoku cooed, his voice just a tad too loud rattling in your ears. "You’re doing so well, little cherub."

His words made your pussy slobber over him, pearls of your arousal dripping down the sides of his cock as he split apart the creamy folds of your silky lips with each hard thrust of his hips. A constellation of tears clung to the edges of your lashes, your body trembling along with the shaking bed frame as your combined noises of pleasure echoed around your stuffy bedroom. Rengoku refused to stifle himself, especially when you made him feel so good it felt like a vessel inside his head was ready to burst. His loud and gruff voice almost drowned out your own sweet cries of rapture, the wet sound of skin slapping against skin making your blood simmer hotly in your veins. Your toes curled into the soles of your feet as the weeping head of his cock kissed your cervix, your arousal webbing between your bodies joined in fervid rapture as your body teetered on the edge of the crumbling precipice. You dug your fingers into the hard muscles of his back, feeling them flex under your touch as his cock carved a path deeper into your plush walls. You whined loudly; pussy clenching tight as you peeled your tongue off the roof of your mouth long enough to spit the words out that were lodged in the back of your throat.

"Ren…fuck…I’m so close" you cried with a heady slur. "Please cum inside me. Want your cum. Breed my pussy. Put a baby in me."

Your babbles were cut short as he caught your lips in a bruising kiss, teeth and tongue lashing at the plump seam of your lips as the pace of his hips became erratic. He purred in content as you continued to whine, the thought of your soft belly round with his child sending his senses into a complete frenzy. You lazily sucked on his tongue as his hands pawed at your sumptuous body, worshiping every inch of you as words of praise were breathed into your mouth and you swallowed it along with the budding saliva on your tongue. Your head was spinning, heart beat wavering in your ears as your lungs pinched in your chest. Your feet dangled uselessly over Rengoku’s shoulders as the thick head of his cock squished against the opening of your womb, a deep chuckle breezing past his lips as you screamed with rapture. 

"That’s it pretty girl" he cooed with a dopey grin. "Just lay there and let me breed your pussy~"

Your ears burned from the filthy talk, nails leaving behind crescent shaped welts along his back as you held on for dear life. You screamed loudly as the coil in your stomach shattered in a million fragments, flooding your veins with white hot relief that made the tips of your fingers go numb. Fireworks erupted in your stomach as the warm hug of your pussy squeezed around Rengoku tighter, your slick juices spilling forth and coating his strong thighs with threads of translucent fluid. Rengoku groaned hotly as your pussy milked him, coaxing him into his own heady rush as he buried himself to the hilt inside your sopping pussy. You mewled with delight as thick ropes of white spilled into you, your abdomen tingling as you continued to ride the pleasure high. His cock kicked with each heavy spurt of cum, filling your insides with warmth until some of it started to drip out in thick rivulets. 

Rengoku’s rhythm started to taper off as he kissed your hot cheeks, stemming the flows of your crystalline tears of pleasure as he circled his hips, cock still hard and throbbing as he filled you with another sticky load into your chubby pussy. You felt pleasantly helpless beneath him as your greedy pussy twitched and spasmed around his cock, determined to milk every last drop. The warmth overflowed and dribbled down your quaking thighs, your pussy still clenching tight around Rengoku's cock as it kept your centre plugged and stuffed full. His hard pants mingled with your own laboured breathing as he slowly placed your shaky legs back to the mattress. He brushed strands of damp hair off your face as he leaned forward, his forehead bumping against yours as your noses touched. His hand fondly stroked your round stomach as you purred in content beneath him, hands rubbing soothing circles into the notches of his spine. It was quiet and peaceful; a moment of shared bliss as your senses slowly crawled back to you. 

A noise of surprise stirred in Rengoku’s throat as you wrapped your plump thighs around his hips and suddenly flipped your positions. His body bounced as he hit the mattress with a dull thud, your plump body nestling on top of him as you sat down on his cock with a little wriggle of your hips. You rested your hands on his chest as you trapped him beneath the luscious curves of your body, his thunderous heartbeat pulsing beneath your fingers as you drummed them along his clammy skin. His hands came to rest upon your plush thighs as you blinked down at him with doe eyes, ears perked up as a soft smile tilted your lips.

"Wanna do it again?" you asked, a hint of hopeful eagerness in your voice. 

Rengoku’s boisterous laughter filled the air, followed by your delighted giggles as you were rocked in his lap.

[diejager]

ive always been meaning to ask this- but has big brother! simon ever tried to convince his little sister to... well, quit the military? or like find ways to get her out? i kinda imagine him going beserk when his lil sis gets critically hurt in any way

Cw: injury, protective Ghost, gunshot wound, blood, canon-typical violence, tell me if I missed any.

He wasn’t against you being in the air force, you were a medic, often in the safety of your field hospital or behind them in missions. He figured that the safest place for you would be beside him where he could physically protect you from any kind of harm. How could he protect you if you’re miles away? How could he prevent you from having your heart broken if he wasn’t there to prevent it from the start and stop the bastard who took it in the first place? How could he care for you if he was countries away, being flown across oceans to fight someone else’s battle?

He was sure he’d be able to protect you at all cost, doing his best to ensure your safety and livelihood in the Task Force and as his field medic. He made sure that he did everything right —until he watch you crumble behind him, curling into yourself with panicked breaths as you held your abdomen. He was confused, unable to grasp at the situation until he caught red bleeding into your fatigues, dripping down your gloves from the pressure you put on your open wound. He dropped everything to rush you to safety, behind the line of safety and back on a help for a medevac.

He watched you being wheeled away from him on a stretcher, your panting and groaning figure, abdomen blooming red and face pinched in a wince, pulled away from him with great reluctance. He stuck around, lumbering in the hall while you were in operation to take the bullet out, biting his nail and ripping his hair off until he was told to sit down by his Captain and join the rest of his team in the waiting area while you were out.

Despite being promised that the chances of your survival was at a hundred percent, Simon couldn’t eat or sleep, he spent the night in your hospital room, eyes wide open and exhausted. He was frantic when you woke up, blinking away the exhaustion and pain killers in your blood, and he relaxed, lost all the tension in his body when you smiled at him. He took two weeks of leave to care for you, watching you while you recovered from your wound.

This attack had clicked something in his mind, it made him hover over you, a lingering shadow of worry and protectiveness. He worried that if you continued on following him, coming back to the Task Force and joining them on missions, you’d risk dying. It scared him. His paranoia conjuring up images where he would come home to a cold and silent place, desolate and lacking life. He couldn’t bear to live in a world devoid of you, missing your bright light that made his heart beat, that insured that he continued on living and breathing. You were the reason he bothered living after all the shit he survived.

The only solution coming to mind was to have you retire, convince you to get out of it while you were still breathing. Perhaps keeping you grounded on land, acting as a doctor rather than a combat medic would be safer if you still wanted to work —if Simon wanted to be able to keep you within his grasp. He’d have to run it past Price first, see what his thought were on his and your situation.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @kaelysia @notspiders @velvetsoulweaver @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake

[ramblingoak]

In His Name

Papa Emeritus IV x Female Reader ~ You and Copia spend some time worshipping the Olde One.

Warnings: overstimulation, messy sex, p in v sex, biting, cum eating, this is filthy actually so I hope you enjoy it, NSFW, 18+ only MDNI, 965 words and not proofread

“You have made a mess of me dolcezza, do you see this?”

All you could do was nod, it was a struggle to find any words at the moment.  Copia dug his gloved fingertips into your thighs as he thrust upwards once, twice and then a third time.  The slick sounds of his cock fucking in and out of you filled your ears.  His cum had started to leak past his cock and mix with your own release, soaking the crotch of his pants and dripping onto his chair.

It was absolutely filthy but you loved every second of it.  

He rubbed his right hand right over where he had been gripping you, a dull ache radiating from the bruises beginning to form.  Copia hooked his chin over your shoulder, looking down to watch as he dragged his hand up your thigh and onto your belly to rest right above your wet cunt.  You jumped, shaking your head when his thumb slid down to rest over your clit.

“N-no, Papa it’s too much!”  With a growl he bit into your shoulder and you yelped, jerking again in his lap.

“Now, now.  You know what to say if it is, hmm?”  His tongue lapped at the mark from his teeth before he brought his lips up to your ear.  “You like it though, don’t you dolcezza?  You like being full of your Papa, no?”

You whimpered and let your head fall back onto his shoulder.  

“Yes, Papa.”

“Bene, I like it too dolcezza.  I like cumming inside of you again and again and again.”  He punctuated each ‘again’ with a dirty thrust, grinding against you each time.  While his thumb began to toy with your clit he brought his other hand up to your breast, teasing at your nipple with light pinches.  “You are my plaything, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Pa–ah!”

Copia started thrusting into you again while you answered him, the air getting punched out of your lungs by the force of it.  Your nails dug into the arms of his chair as you tried to gain leverage so you could meet his thrusts but you barely had the strength left to do anything.  He was right, you loved this.  You loved letting him have his way with you, you loved letting him fill you over and over.  It was torture but it felt so good. 

Your limbs began to tremble as another orgasm started to build.  You clung to the chair as hard as you could, not able to do anything else but take it, take him.  Copia was murmuring filthy sounding Italian in your ear, the sound of his rough voice combining with your whimpers and the wet sounds of his thrusting driving you right to the edge.  You made a desperate sound, begging him without words to get you over.  With a rough chuckle that felt like it vibrated through your soul he bit down onto the same place as before and you screamed as your orgasm ripped through you.

He held you up as he finished, his cock kicking as it filled you again.  Your head fell back when he brushed his fingers through the mess of your cunt.  He rubbed around your entrance, his cock still stuffed inside of you.  Copia chuckled again when you weakly batted at his hand, but he obliged and moved it away.  The chair creaked when he leaned back, an arm wrapped securely around your waist so you stayed reclined against him.  

“Open your mouth, dolcezza.”

You did as you were told, moaning when two fingers pushed between your lips.  Your tongue ran along the leather, cleaning the cum off.  His chest rumbled behind you and you heard him whisper how good of a girl you were.  How beautiful and perfect you were for him.  How badly he wanted to fill you again.  Copia started to rotate his hips beneath you, small and quick thrusts like he enjoyed doing on stage.  You gasped around his fingers, pulling off of them to bury your face in his neck as his cock twitched and started to harden inside of you.

“Papa…how?”

“A blessing from the Olde One, cara.  He graces us with his magic so that we can worship in his name.”  Copia started to slowly fuck you once more, barely pulling out before pushing in as far as he could.  His hands wandered to your hips, gripping your flesh to keep you steady.  “Are you ready?  Will you receive me again for our dark lord?”

Your hands moved to cover his own, your fingers intertwining as his thrusts became harder.  When you turned your head to look at his face you were met with a wicked grin, one that you couldn’t help but match.

“Yes, Papa.  In his name.”

Copia took your lips in a hard kiss, his tongue sweeping inside of your mouth.  He moaned as he tasted himself before he pulled away and rested his forehead against your own.  His thrusts stopped for the moment and you let out a shaky breath, trembling in anticipation for him to start to move again.  He gave you a gentle kiss his time, leaning back with that familiar grin on his face once more.  

“In his name, dolcezza.”  His fingers tightened at your waist, the only warning you got before he started thrusting again.  You couldn’t hold back your cries, screaming out Lucifer’s name and hoping he would hear you.  Copia laughed and pressed his lips against your ear.  “I want you to scream mine though, eh?”  

You couldn’t help but snort, squeezing his fingers between your own and nodding.  You’d tease him about being vain later.  For now you would do what he wanted.

Copia’s name was the only one you screamed the rest of the night.      

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