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#sorry this is so short
frank---ly · 1 year
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shiganshinaslut · 11 months
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i want scara to breed me full-
18+||MINORS DNI
Me too :( He’s so possessive and this is just another way of marking you and claiming you as his. He holds you impossibly close, arms squeezing you tighter and tighter as he thrusts into you with no mercy. He leans in close to your ear and you can hear him panting softly before he speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m gonna cum inside you...gonna fill you up with my cum...” He lets out a breathy laugh “Ha, yeah? You want that? I’ll give it to you...”
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orangesocksonmyeyes · 3 months
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right side of my neck pt2
bf!rafe cameron x gf!reader
warnings: mentions of violence (not against reader), slight manipulation, toxic relationship blah blah typical rafe stuff
this isn’t proof read SUE ME
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after a lot of convincing and possible begging, rafe finally agreed to not do anything.
i eventually passed out in his arms with my head tucked against his chest. he was a night owl. most nights when i slept, he didn’t. we were opposites in many ways and sometimes i wondered how we became a functioning couple.
i stirred in my sleep when i felt the bed dip and arms return around me. this time they were cold. my eyes flickered open to see rafe already looking at me with sleepy eyes. his hair was disheveled and sweat glistened on his forehead in the dim lighting of the moon.
he must’ve noticed my staring because he quickly started running his hand through my hair, something he often does to get me to fall asleep.
it almost worked, had it not been for the slight wince i saw on his face when i leaned towards his hand.
i quickly sat up and clicked on the bedside lamp, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling his hand into view. fresh bruises and cuts littered his knuckles, the skin dry and cracked from the cold.
i should’ve made him promise.
he tucked his other arm behind his head, as if nothing was wrong at all. “are you serious?” i muttered, dropping his hand as i stared at him. he stared back at me, laying his fallen hand flat on his stomach. “you said you wouldn’t do anything, rafe.” i put my fingers to my temples in frustration.
rafe drummed his fingers along his stomach. “relax. he won’t tell.” he said nonchalantly.
he wont tell. good, so he’s alive.
“that’s not even the point.” i muttered, glancing at the clock that read 4:15am. i fell asleep at one, he was gone for three hours doing who knows what to that guy.
rafe leaned on his elbows as he sat up. he reached for my hands, i pulled away.
“baby, i did this for you.” he said, his voice cracking.
his looked at me with puppy dog eyes.
despite how i wanted to react, my heart ached at his words. i often had to remind myself that rafe didn’t think like i did. or like anyone did.
i sighed and pulled him into my chest by the nape of his neck, his looped his arms around my waist as i held him. “did anyone see you?” i whispered.
“do they ever?” he hummed.
cocky bastard.
———————————————————————
ermm nobody beat me up for this being SO short 😃 this is for @iwasunderduress again and any1 else who showed love on part one. I LOVE U 😜
drew looks so fine in that pic hello ? #drewstarkeymunch
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mr-m-murdock · 11 months
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If your requests are open ....needy Nat? Maybe in "only pretty faces" . Something about Natasha being only weak/needing for r
only girl in the world
| natasha x reader | only pretty faces |
warnings: none :) CUDDLES
Now that you don't need to watch her every move, it's suddenly become extraordinarily easy to observe her. Ironically.
She's all straight spine and eyes constantly on the move. If she'd let anyone catch sight of her in a crowd, even a child would notice the danger on her. Like the smell of gasoline. The aura of an ethanol fire in the dark.
Her hands are strong just like the rest of her. You've traced sinew and scar tissue blindly with your thumb so many times you could map her skin in your sleep. And sure, she's attentive and prowling when you're out, but when you're alone...
Right now, in the dimly-lit sitting room with the shutters closed at the windows, Natalia's face is tucked into the curve of your shoulder. She's loose. The slackened muscles of a leopard observing the ground from a high perch, perhaps, but loose all the same. Her eyes are closed, the light of the TV flickers on her cheeks. With a gentle snuffle, she falls deeper asleep.
It's almost a miracle. But if you think about it hard enough, you're sure you can recall the heavy weight of her head on your shoulder just like this, twenty five years ago. And you know you remember waking up with your cheek crushed against her t-shirt when you'd convinced yourself you hated her. Maybe the two of you were always meant to crawl back to each other like this, bone-tired. Maybe she was made to fit against your side like this.
But you know the truth. You were shaped by men who'd killed gods, with their syringes and their blank white stares. You'd morphed yourself to lie here with Natalia. You'd each carved pieces out of yourselves, in the privacy of dark rooms and the solitude of those arrow-sharp minds of yours, to fit the other into the cavity.
There's no fate. You choose to love her. She's chosen to shut her eyes, one hand fisted in the thigh of your sweatpants, and fall into the place you made for her, be it jagged and imperfect. Just for you.
requests | masterlist
taglist: @when-wolves-howl @fayhar @maggieromanov @waitingroom-pb @romanoffscottage @blackxwidowsxwife @lizlil @screechcat @maddess @natsaffection @haeva @diaryoflife @natashasilverfox @vicmc624  @strangegardentaco  @phantomvael @lorsstar1st  @blckrwidow @ima-gi--na-tion @paryl @aan-myouim @smalls-words @lainjupi  @d1s0nym @meimei-a @the-v01d @kqmui @s1ut4nat @btay3115   @idkjustliving2 @lokisjuicyass @mmmmokdok  @silentwolfsstuff  @olicity-boo @iliketozoneout
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edmundspevensea · 9 months
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𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐓
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in which y/n is a famous actress and ethan is there to provide comfort before they make their red carpet debut as a couple.
warnings; possible angry fans
You smiled as you looked at yourself in the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of your satin red dress, red lipstick prominent on your lips. Your hair was done in a tight, slicked back ponytail, sprayed with so much hairspray that no flyaways were visible. Silver diamond earrings hung from your ears, and as you stared down at the silver heels you were currently wearing, you felt a pair of hands snake around your waist. Ethan.
“You look stunning, princess. Everyone’s going to love you.” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.
Focusing your attention on him, you gripped his hands that were currently around your waist, “I know that, E. I’m just nervous about how people are going to react to us.”
You were a fairly new actress, but your talent was practically unmatched. Within three years, you had landed roles in shows such as Ted Lasso, Defending Jacob, The Bear, and The Summer I Turned Pretty. Most recently, however, you had starred as Natalie Blake in The Black Phone, older sister to Finney and Gwen Blake. You were even nominated for Best Supporting Actress for that role, an accomplishment that you were extremely proud of. Along with the success, however, comes die hard fans. And some of those die hard fans aren’t the nicest when it comes to respecting personal relationships.
Ethan had his fair share of die hard fans as well. He was a decently known hockey player at the University of Michigan, with connections to the New Jersey Devils, and his looks (and talent, but mostly looks) didn’t go unnoticed by a lot of teenage and college-aged girls. Meaning that when Ethan reveals a relationship, a lot of those girls aren’t going to be happy. You were nervous about the possible hate that would surround your guys’ relationship when you went public.
Ethan sighed, unraveling his hands from your waist and gently grabbing your chin to force you to look up at him, “I know you are, Y/N, and that’s okay. It’s totally understandable to be nervous. But I want you to know that I’m here for you every step of the way, okay? I don’t care how people take our relationship, because I know that you’re in love with me and I also know that I’m in love with you.”
You simply nodded, a small smile growing on your face as Ethan’s words somehow reassured you. At the sight of your grin, Ethan’s own smile widened and he pulled you in for a quick kiss on the lips. After he pulled away, you quickly spoke up, “Ethan?”
“Yes, princess?”
“Say it again,” you asked. Ethan had told you that he was in love with you plenty of times before, but this time it felt different. More comforting, perhaps.
When Ethan realized what you meant, a small smirk grew on his face, “I’m in love with you, okay? Now, are you ready to go and proclaim our love to the world through paparazzi photos?” he asked sarcastically.
“Hell yeah.”
“That’s my girl.”
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halsbandfuchs · 4 months
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dude PLEASE do some Christmas headcanons for TPOF cast, I need to know what u think they do (specifically mason cuz I'm obsessed with him atm <33)
Naw cus The Price of Christmas would be such a chaotic fangame. I need it in my life
I have this general headcanon that Mason will just pick up and carry Fox whenever and wherever he felt like it- just picks him up by his waist and slings him over the shoulder. Fox just texts Mason like
Fox; I need to be tall.
M.Heiral; ego or lights
Fox; Both.
M.Heiral; k
and then boom, Operation Christmas Lights is a go.
Derek harasses those mall Santas.
Celia gives everyone the most expensive gifts possible. It don't matter who it is, she's spoiling them for the holidays.
Komodo and Dragon make homemade christmas cards together over the course of about a week. Derek doesn't get one.
Fox hosts a Christmas party on Christmas Eve, featuring classics such as Secret Santa, eggnog contests, in-person torture sessions, watch-a-thons, and more!
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rodeoxqueen · 8 months
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Dante with a 4' 8" male reader (fluff and/or spicy) (・ω・) Dante is 6' 4" or 6' 3"I think 🤔
Dante personally loves the height difference.
Will pick you up and give you a big old kiss.
Notices he doesn't know where you are and the first thing he'll do is look down.
Likes to compare hand sizes.
Won't hold your height above you (see what I did there) but is more overprotective when he feels you're in danger.
His favorite thing for when you two haven't seen each other in a while is that he will literally pick you up and kiss you on the cheek.
Dante is a very strong and tall man so during sex, he will pick you up and fuck you onto his cock. It gets you moaning and squirming all over him.
Due to your smaller stature, Dante finds it is easier to pin you into all sorts of positions. His favorite is pinning your knees to your chest while he thrusts into your special spot, driving you crazy and breathless.
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purplestars222 · 23 days
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Radiodust - Dangerously yours.
human au - loosely based on this https://youtu.be/EtWmN6yoG_k?si=ivUQofNyh6AfBGk9
cw; death, drugs/addiction, suicide (angel)
this is short because i am in pain. ill probably come out with a longer version of this soon but for now enjoy this <3
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Anthony, wanting to get away from his father and the mob, ran off to Louisiana. Little did he know, it would change his life forever. He meets a local radio host at a small cafe one afternoon. They get to talking, and Anthony accidentally lets it slip that hes part of the mob. The other man seems a little shocked, But Anthony is disappointed. He didn't want to kill this man, now he has to. He gets alastor to go with him to the forest for a walk As anthony pulls out his gun, alastor pulls out his knife. They both look at each other for a few seconds, then anthony starts laughing
That was the beginning of a beautiful relationship. Anthony stays home, and cooks meals for alastor and cleans, while alastor goes out 'hunting' and doing his radio show. It was perfect up until alastor finds drugs stashed in anthonys pillowcase. Cocaine. Terrible thing.
Alastor decides to flush it, and Anthony gets very mad. He sleeps in a separate room. They start drifting apart, until one day, Anthony pulls a gun on his lover during an argument about all the killings, Anthony wants alastor to stop murdering, Alastor wants anthony to stop doing drugs.
"You mean you're actually going to kill me?" Alastor chuckles to himself
"I mean just that!" Anthony's voice comes out a broken sob
"Well, go ahead my dear."
"I will!"
"You wont do it."
"Shutup alastor! just-"
"You won't pull the trigger because you love me, mon ange. It takes a very cold & heartless man to kill someone you love, and i know you don't have it in you."
Within seconds, angel flips the gun towards himself and pulls the trigger. Alastor stands there, the smile on his face slowly fading. this isnt real, right? No, anthony wouldn't do this- Its some kind of sick joke
"A-anthony dear- This isnt funny anymore, get up."
Alastor stares at his body, the blood oozing out of his head, the sweet smell is almost driving alastor insane
"Mon ange? Please-" Alastor crouches down to sit on his knees next to the body, he lifts him up into his lap and starts crying. This still has to be a prank right? it cant be real. Alastor quickly grabs his bandages and wraps anthonys head
"Im so sorry, my love- i didnt mean for this to- please come back..."
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corn-fanfiction · 4 months
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SAVIOUR COMPLEX (Marx Hoffman x F!Reader Pt. 8)
(Pt. 7)
Rating: M
TAGS: language/past abuse/Mark Hoffman being a c*p/reader's life is maybe becoming less normal/Mark is protective bc it's his job but he's also problematic/because he's a c*p/Detective Gibson is his own tw/no Mark Hoffman this chapter :(/ busy being jigsaw a badass
Gibson shows up on your doorstep at 7:45 sharp.
He’s in the full getup now, suit jacket and pressed shirt with his side piece on display. You roll your eyes and push past him, your restaurant uniform on and your feet taking you there.
“What? No hello?”
“Hello,” you mutter through gritted teeth. Before you can walk past his cruiser, he’s got a hand on your bicep. You freeze.
It doesn��t help that he has a similar build to Ted, that their hair is the same color. You know it’s not him. But it jolts you anyhow and you manage to unfreeze and yank your arm away.
“Just because you’ve been assigned my case doesn’t mean you can put hands on me.”
“You didn’t seem to mind when it was Mark.”
“Right. And you’re not him. Seems pretty clear cut to me.”
He takes a moment before gesturing to the cruiser.
“Get in.”
You bunch your brow in confusion.
“Um…no?”
“Resisting an officer?”
You roll your eyes. “Did they stick you with me because you were too busy being an asshole to do your actual job?”
“Damn, you’re quick.”
“Thanks. Helps me get away from asshole cops with a power complex.”
“You can keep digging yourself that hole; either way, you’re getting in the car. Don’t wanna be late for work, do you? Can you make it in 10?”
You glance at your watch and groan. He’s kept you here for five minutes and no, you can’t walk it in 10.
“Fine. Do I have to get in the back, too?”
“Keep it up and you just might.”
You don’t put up anymore of a fight and crawl into the passenger seat. Gibson starts the drive and you watch the neighborhood pass by the window.
“Why do you hate Hoffman so much?”
Mark’s last name feels strange coming out of your mouth after you’ve kissed him so much. Gibson chuckles.
“It’s not that black and white. I don’t hate him. I hate when people get unfocused and irresponsible.”
“Don’t kid yourself,” you mutter to the glass.
“What was that?”
You want his job.
“Nothing.”
Neither of you engage with the other for the rest of the trip and Gibson leaves as soon as he drops you off. You come in through the back, grinding your teeth, irreversibly on edge for the rest of the day. You slam your locked door a little too hard and Gerri looks up from the soda fountain in the alley.
“Woah there. Locker not tip you well?”
“Sorry,” you mumble. “Fuckin’… long ass story. You keep up with the news?”
Gerri shrugs. “Not really. Figure if it’s important enough I’ll hear about it. Why?”
“Well, guess you’ll hear it from me.”
You and Gerri both do your best to not neglect your tables but every time you’re at the running window or the server’s alley you’re butting heads together and whispering.
“So he’s kicked off the case? Just like that?”
“This smug little bastard- and Mark’s smug too but he wears it well at least, but this weasel has decided to make it his mission to make me miserable. Which, like, what’s the point?”
“Maybe to get back at Hoffman? What’s their beef anyway?”
The answer is delayed when a busser pushes through with a rack of dirty dishes.
“Gibson says there is no beef. Like I’m supposed to believe that.”
“Have you talked to Mark about it yet?”
“Not since last night. I don’t know what to even say. I told him we probably needed time to cool off.”
“What, like a break?”
“If you wanna call it that.”
“Sounds to me like that’s what it is.”
The busser stops in front of you two and sighs loudly.
“Can you please clear the alley!” He says unnecessarily loudly. Gerri gives him the bird.
“Fuck off, hourly wage.”
Despite the snark you both move and get the drinks you came back here for.
“I don’t know, I think you should talk to him. And what’s up with the Jigsaw guy? Do you think Ted was some sort of…message?”
Your stomach coils. “Message?”
Gerri shrugs. “I don’t know. This is the second time you’ve been involved. First time, you’re a witness and get his operation shut down. Second time it’s your ex in a trap. Not to mention…” they trail off. You raise your eyebrows.
“What?”
“I-“ they hesitate.
“Gerri, what?” You begin to grow agitated, like maybe you know the theory they’re reaching towards.
“I’m just saying, who else has been there the first time, and a second time?”
You roll your eyes.
“Gerri-“
“Am I wrong?”
“No, of course you’re not-“
“Listen, I’m not saying one way or the other, but maybe that’s why Gibson is being such a hard ass, right?”
You stutter, nearly dropping a salad onto your table. You apologize, run your routine, then catch up with them.
“Okay, so what? You think he’s in trouble? Like, prison trouble?”
“I’m Cochran all of a sudden? I don’t know. But that’s what it sounds like to me.”
Your head swims. You grab Gerri by the arm and pull them back by a serving station.
“Do you think…” you chew on your lip where a cut is beginning to form. “I mean…”
“Oh hon. I don’t know. I mean, you know him, I don’t.”
“But…I don’t know him. Not really.”
“Hey, why the change of heart?”
You don’t even realize you’ve started crying until Gerri’s handing you a napkin.
“Fuck. God, I hate crying at work.”
“Wanna go to the walk-in?”
You snort through the snot and turn away from the tables.
“Fuck you for making me laugh.”
“It’s my job, isn’t it? Don’t worry about it. So you let it cool off. Don’t call him. If he calls you, sure. If he wants to meet, do it here. I’m sure it’s all fine. Now I wish I hadn’t said a word.”
You wave your hand and use a yet-to-be-bussed cup’s condensation to wet the napkin and dab at your ruined makeup.
“No, I needed to hear it. I’ve been thinking it but I'm too scared to say it out loud. Feels like a betrayal.”
“Hey, you don’t owe the guy anything.”
“I mean, he took care of me, Ger. Patient with me, kind, slept next to me all night and didn’t do so much as touch me.”
“The bare minimum,” Gerri mutters.
“Hey, that’s not fair.”
Gerri shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know. Just consider what I said, alright? I hope we’re both wrong. I hope this all gets straightened out, the Jigsaw killer fries and we both get big glamorous jobs and you get to fuck a hotshot detective every night of the week.”
You throw your head back in laughter and the two of you return to run food. Your heart feels a little lighter.
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pullingyourstrings · 2 years
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so uh........
reader humping eddies guitar..
so......... yes!!! I don't know if this is what you meant but that's where my mind went.
Pairing: Eddie x GN!Reader
Warnings: guitar humping. That's it.
Eddie never let anyone touch his guitar. She was everything for him. So when he decided to teach you some songs, you were very surprised and excited.
You sat on his bed with the guitar on your lap and he sat behind you, placing your fingers in the right positions and teaching you the chords. There was only one problem: he is SO distracting.
His breathy whispers on your ear, strands of his hair entangling with yours, his long fingers touching the strings, the way his body was pressed up against yours, the way every note he played made the guitar shake on your legs.
"You're doing good sweetheart, I knew you could do it" he praised sincerely.
"Oh god Eddie" you tried to sound disgusted, the shakiness in your voice betraying you.
"What? I'm talking about the music" he laughed, his torso moving behind you, shifting your position a little. Oh no. "You're so dirty Y/N"
"It's the way you said it" you admitted weakly, your face going red with embarrassment as the pointy end of the guitar touched you where you felt more sensitive.
"Why, is this doing it for you?"
"A little" you move your hip tentatively while you held the guitar firmly on your lap. Something clicked. You could feel the air get hot and you just knew Eddie was smirking.
"I can play you a song if you'd like" he whispered in your ear, holding you and the guitar close to his body.
"Yeah. I'd like that"
He pressed a kiss on your neck and played the song. You rolled your hips to the rhythm, the vibrations of the guitar making you shiver, shaky moans escaping your lips. Eddie stopped playing as soon as you came, ditching the guitar to the side and kissing you.
"Okay, that was really hot."
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luca-star1ight · 7 months
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I'm probably not gonna write those aaravos request rotting in my inbox but here's so headcanons of him instead!
He prefers fantasy books over fiction. Sure learning spells is important but sometimes he can get so lost in the action and fantasy!
I feel like he can cook but not bake. A three course meal? A well seasoned steak? 100% will cook it right up for you! Ask him to bake a cake? The kitchen is in flames..
Definitely likes beach days! The cool breeze flowing through his hair, the sand beneath his feet. Probably doesn't swim, toes in water at best, but he definitely sun bathes!
(y'all remember that one seen from the live action Aladdin where genie said his natural pigment was navy blue and he was pale from being sealed for so long...you think aaravos is like that?)
He glows in the dark! It's faint but if it's dark enough you can see the little twinkles!
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cherryrogers · 11 months
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What about for cmb the group taking a weekend trip to the beach or something? Bucky sees her in her swimsuit and he’s shirtless and she’s 👀👀👀 and they’re very cute.
this ask is literally from over a year ago but here we are. cmb drabble time let’s go!!! (i wrote this literally months ago and forgot to post it but we ball 🫡)
x
Truthfully, you would’ve never guessed that the gang found enjoyment in a trip to the beach during summer. If the fact they were constantly in leather jackets and complaining when the temperature raised even slightly above 80 degrees told you anything, it’s that they’d much prefer to spend a warm summer’s day under the shade in the clubhouse garden, sipping on cold beers and actively trying not to catch any rays.
But one morning, you woke up in Bucky’s bed, as usual, except you also had Peggy standing over you like a sleep paralysis demon (a pretty one, obviously), and you forced yourself to squint open your eyes.
“Up and at ‘em, _____, come on!” She chirped, tossing a black bikini at your face. “We’re going to the beach.”
Groaning, you reached an arm out of the duvet, picking up the top garment and holding it up to inspect. “This could literally fit a build-a-bear.”
“Well it’s your size, and I told you you might need a swimsuit for the summer. Of course, I knew you wouldn’t bother buying one, so I got you one. You’re welcome,” Peggy said. She had a duffel bag over her shoulder, likely filled with enough sun cream to protect a whole group of bikers from the Friday heatwave. “Plus, I thought Bucky would appreciate it.”
You scoffed, flinging the top at your friend. “You’re so weird. Please focus on what your own boyfriend would appreciate, thanks.”
Peggy just chuckled, giving you a wink. “You’ll thank me later.”
***
After setting down your beach towel and quickly rubbing some sun cream down your arms and legs, you plonked down on the towel and tugged off your tank top, about to apply some more to the rest of your skin.
The beach wasn’t so busy, since people were at work and kids were in school, so the gang set themselves up on a nice spot in the middle of long expanse of sand. Natasha was quick to put up a parasol and make sure she was completely in the shade. Sam and Clint had put down their towels and already started on the snacks that were meant to last them a good few hours. Steve was rubbing sun cream on Peggy’s shoulders while she leaned over a book, thick black sunglasses sitting on the bridge of her nose.
Next to you, Bucky already had his shirt off, laying idly under the sun with his eyes shut. Well, you thought they were shut, until your heard a wolf whistle from behind you.
You turned your head, and sure enough, Bucky was eyeing you. You snorted. “You literally see me naked, like, every day.”
“So? I can appreciate your divine beauty, with or without clothes.”
“Divine beauty. Thanks, Shakespeare, ” You snorted, passing him the bottle of sun cream. “Do my back?”
The biker took the bottle, popping it open and squeezing a fair amount into his hand. He sat up behind you, starting to rub the cream between your shoulder blades. Then down your spine, and lastly just above the waistband of your shorts. He finished with a pinch to your waist, to which you reacted by dodging the kiss he tried to plant on your neck after.
***
To iterate, you’re not the jealous type. Being jealous implies some insecurity on the jealous person’s part, and you weren’t insecure when it came to Bucky, because you knew you had him wrapped around your finger.
But there’s a group of girls a few feet away, lounging under a parasol and giggling while looking directly at him, and frankly, you wanted to climb on top of him and show them who he belonged to.
He’s blissfully unaware, almost asleep under the sun. And it’s obvious why he has some ogling eyes; his tattoos are all on show, and the sun is casting light on his large arms and toned abdomen.
It’s Natasha who says what you’re thinking: “Looks like you have some admirers, Barnes.”
“And a guard dog.” Clint adds with a snort, looking directly at you.
You grab an empty plastic cup and chuck it at Clint’s head. “Call me a dog again, Barton. It’ll be a beer bottle next time.”
“The fuck are you guys talking about?” Bucky asks, still lying down with his eyes shut. The sun seems to make him tired; it’s rather endearing.
“Gaggle of giggling girls at three o’clock.” Peggy grins, pointing to the right of Bucky. He follows the woman’s hand, while you just want the ground to swallow you up. If Bucky even suspects you’re having a jealous moment, he won’t let you hear the end of it.
The girls don’t make an effort to be subtle, even when Bucky catches them looking. He turns his head to look at you, and the smirk that grows on his lips is telling enough of what he’s thinking.
“I don’t wanna hear it, Bucky.”
“You know, I really never thought I’d see the day—”
“No—”
“You’re jealous aren’t you, sweets?”
“I’m not jealous.” You insist, but Bucky only stares at you patiently, and you can’t help but crack under his gaze. You huff.
“They’re ogling you, Bucky. as if… as if you’re a piece of meat! It’s inappropriate.”
Bucky scoffs, though he sits up and moves to snake an arm around your waist, making goosebumps appear on your skin even under the hot sun.
“Then they can ogle at this instead.” He says quietly, before pulling you close and landing his lips on yours, and who are you to even think about pushing him away?
Your hand instinctively lifts to his jaw, caressing it with your thumb while he digs his fingers into the skin above the waist and of your shorts. You’ve never been one for PDA, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and making sure everyone on the beach knows that Bucky is all yours (for now, anyway) certainly calls for desperate measures.
“Jesus. There’s kids on this beach, you know.” You hear Natasha tease behind you, and you chuckle as you pull back, lips swollen and heart beating a bit faster than it was only seconds ago.
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belovaskitkat · 1 year
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“you’re so warm.” “i hear you, but we really need to get up, love.” 
Natasha Romanoff pretty pleaseeeee
“You’re so warm,” you said softly.
“I hear you, but we really need to get up, love.” Natasha cooed.
“But what if… we just didn’t?” You asked cheekily.
As if on cue, Liho let out a loud meow, indicating it was way past his feeding time. “I think someone’s hungry,” Natasha said. She pulled herself from your body as you whined.
The cool air whooshed beneath the covers and you whined some more. “Naaaat! You’ve made it cold!” You cried out.
“Oh hush, I’ll be right back, baby,” she said softly, leaning in to kiss your lips.
Right back turned into nearly an hour and you grumbled to yourself as you climbed out of bed to see where your wife had gone. You enter the kitchen just as she was putting the finishing touches on your breakfast plate, pancakes and cut strawberries and a cup of apple juice. “Nat I missed you,” you said frowning.
“Well I figured you’d be hungry soon!” She said, beaming at you while she pushed the plateful of food gently towards you.
“Thank you,” you said, giving your wife a quick kiss. “This was definitely worth getting out of bed for,” you smiled.
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separatist-apologist · 7 months
Text
Still A Sunbeam
Summary: As a child, Elain Archeron is pushed into a pond by the heir to the Day Courts throne, Lucien Spell-Cleaver, and vows she'll never forgive him for it. But as an adult, Elain finds that if she wants out of an arranged marriage to a Spring Court prince, she will need Day Court's help. More is at stake than a decades-old rivalry, and when their home is threatened, Elain and Lucien will have to set aside old differences and work together
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Having no expectations should have saved Elain some surprise. Her and Nesta had rushed off too quickly for Elain to really consider what she might find in Night Court, and once Velaris shattered her expectations, her mind didn’t bother filling in any new gaps.
Still, finding her sister paint streaked and beaming ear to ear. Elain certainly didn’t expect to be assaulted by the smell of her sister, either.
Glancing up at Nesta, her older sister merely shrugged as if to say, we don’t talk about that. Elain had a million questions, squashed as she stepped into the airy, bright sitting room that her sister was currently painting in. Seated in a chair, presumably for study, was the object of the scent rolling off her sister. 
The new High Lord. Elain recognized Rhysand from those meetings in Spring. He was just as handsome as he’d ever been, though somehow more relaxed. It seemed it ought to have been the opposite—that becoming High Lord in such a violent manner ought to have made him more nervous, more uptight. Certainly more fearful than he was, out in the open where anyone could drive an ash arrow through his throat. 
“Hello, Elain Archeron,” Rhysand purred, crossing one leg over the other. “How fascinating to hear the kingslayer think of all the ways I might be killed. Not at your hands, I hope?”
Right. She’d forgotten he could hear people’s thoughts. 
“Kingslayer?” Elain asked instead. 
Nesta scoffed, pushing through the living room to stand beside the mantle place. Cassian grinned at the High Lord before dropping into a chair just beside him, wings draping over the arms. In some ways, it reminded her of Day Court, though much, much smaller. Perhaps the rest of Rhysand’s court was in a palace somewhere.
“That's what they’re calling you,” Feyre told Elain, really studying her for a moment. “Did you truly kill the High Lord of Autumn?”
“No,” Elain said automatically. “Eris Vanserra did.”
“She merely stabbed him through the throat, darling.”
Darling? 
Feyre didn’t react to the endearment and Rhysand turned to his sleeve, plucking at some stray thread Elain couldn’t see. 
“Can we talk to Feyre without an audience? For once?” Nesta interrupted, eyes narrowed. Rhysand turned his head to look at her and Elain bet he couldn’t push through the walls that guarded Nesta’s mind.
“We’ll be fine here,” Feyre told the High Lord, once again confusing Elain. What was their relationship, exactly? It didn’t seem romantic on her sister's end, though there was some kind of affection in the undercurrent of her words. 
Rhys stood then, shooting Nesta a look she’d seen on the faces of men one too many times. The sort that warned her to mind her own business, and the kind that only made Nesta more iron willed. Cassian, on the other hand, swaggered to his feet with a lazy, lopsided grin on her own face. 
“Nes—”
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, for all the good it did. Cassian merely straightened himself, a soldier being reminded by a general not to slouch. 
“Call if you need me.”
“I won’t,” Nesta retorted, though Elain caught color crawling up her neck. Elain would have given anything to have Lucien with her, murmuring some missing context in her ears. She swallowed, waiting for the males to exit before Nesta rounded on them both. 
Feyre had already plunked down in the chair Rhys had been sitting in, drawing her knees beneath a thick, cable-knit sweater.
“Nesta—”
“If we left right now, no one would stop us,” Nesta whispered, glancing toward the open window. “We could be back in days.”
“If you make me go back, I’ll take Spring apart flower by flower,” Feyre shot back, eyes flashing with fury. Elain remembered these sorts of fights—her sisters refusing to back down until Elain stepped in and smoothed things over.
She tried not to feel resentment for being thrust back into this role. It was a role she’d never wanted to play and had felt forced to, and now, as adults, felt even more so now that she’d been pulled away from her mate and husband to convince the two of them to stop acting like they didn’t love the other.
Their mother wasn’t around, pitting them against each other. They could be friends if they wanted. Elain understood why Nesta wanted her there, though she waited to jump in so she could hear Feyre’s reasoning.
“He won’t let me go. You know he won’t. Lucien Spell-Cleaver saw me unbound and in my right mind and Tamlin is still convinced—”
“It’s not about Tamlin!” Nesta interrupted. “Fuck Tamlin. Let Elain explain how you kill a High Lord for all I care. I know you’re worried about Amarantha.”
That silenced Feyre. Elain came around the room, sitting across from Feyre while she waited, too. 
“Killian is there, too,” Elain told her younger sister, echoing the same fear that Feyre had. “Everyone surrounding them will be telling them how smart and clever and wise they are.”
“I know,” Feyre whispered with a huff of air. “Just the thought of…of placating him when he’s done so many horrible things, I…I want to rip his neck from his body.”
“Do it,” Nesta said dismissively.
“You’re not helping,” Elain murmured without malice. “There is no need to kill anyone, just as there is no need to marry anyone—”
“You’ve done enough of that,” Nesta muttered.
“You’re married?” Feyre asked as Elain wished for a moment she had the fortitude to scream at them both. 
“Yes,” Elain said through gritted teeth, “and I do not want to be here, either. Yet here I am. We will go to Spring and try and put some sense into the heads of the males there. We will spend a week in our old beds, walking those old hallways, and being good daughters. And if we aren’t successful, we will leave and inform our respective High Lords of what we’ve learned.”
“Rhys will never allow it,” Feyre murmured. Elain thought the same was true of Lucien…if he’d known it. 
“They don’t own us,” Elain told her sister while Nesta crossed her arms over her chest. Whatever was going on between her and the warrior named Cassian was apparently going to remain a mystery. Nesta said nothing, made no comment on a male she’d miss.
“We should go before they realize what’s happening.”
“I don’t think we’ll be able to get away with killing two High Lords,” Feyre mumbled, rising to her feet. “And I need a few things. Hold on.”
She raced upstairs, leaving Elain a little irked that she hadn’t thought to grab anything, either. She’d be back in spring florals before the day was through. 
“I didn’t kill Beron Vanserra,” Elain grumbled.
Nesta shrugged. “Semantics.”
Elain sighed, because there was real danger to people believing she’d killed Beron Vanserra. She was safe with Lucien, but anywhere else she might be perceived as a threat. Tamlin could hold her hostage, if he liked, and demand an inquiry to the High Lord’s death. He could ransom her back for gold or protection or allies. It was foolish to think he wouldn’t, and Elain had to hope that her insisting she would never do such a thing, coupled with her reputation for non-violence, would spare her. 
Feyre returned with a bow slung over her shoulder and a quiver of arrows tucked under one hand. “While we’re there, I want to trap the Suriel again.”
“Again?” Elain and Nesta gaped, looking at the fine, silk cloak hanging from Feyre’s shoulders. Feyre glanced at them both. She’d changed from her comfy sweater into a high necked, long sleeve, white shirt with a blue and gold tunic falling over top. Tight pants were tucked into immaculate boots, and the paint had  been scrubbed from Feyre’s face, her hair braided off her face so the tail draped neatly against her shoulder.
“Subtle,” Nesta commented, though there was no ire to her words. “Maybe we should tell everyone our plan.”
“We have no plan,” Elain hissed, rising to her feet. “We are just three daughters going home to see our parents. As far as anyone else is aware, we are doing nothing else. And we are not assassinating a High Lord.”
“Again,” Feyre added with a twitch of her lips. “No instructions about a foreign general, though?”
“One problem at a time,” Elain replied, hating the way her palms were sweating. Too much stood to go wrong, with very little seeming as if it might go right. The part of Elain that prioritized safety and comfort was tempted to start screaming until Rhysand returned and gave her back to Lucien. And then what, she wondered? Lucien would know for the rest of their lives that when things got hard, she didn’t really want any of the things she’d once clawed so desperately for. How long before he began suggesting she just stay home? That she didn’t need to do anything at all? And how long before she just let him? 
They had to go. It was a week, which was no time at all to accomplish anything and just enough time, Elain thought, to sow some seeds of discordance. Nesta and Feyre would be far better at that then she was, but Elain was a lot more careful and closer to Killian than she preferred to be. Perhaps he could be reasoned with, even if they were never going to get married. Elain had to trust it, because Nesta was hellbent on them going, and she refused to be branded the coward of the Archeron family.
And maybe, deep down, Elain wanted to prove to her mate that she had just as much courage as he did. That she was the kind of wife he could be proud of. Elain wanted to feel that same pride in herself, too. To know that she didn’t run away when things got hard—that she still tried, even when she was scared. 
Kingslayer. That’s what Rhysand had called her, even though in truth, Elain had just been scared and had acted anyway. It hadn’t been bravery, it had just been instinct. Choosing to walk out the door, though, sandwiched between her sister, though?
That felt like bravery. Even if their presences grounded Elain and made her feel safe, it still felt like courage, however small.
“Lets go,” Feyre murmured, taking the hand Elain offered to them both. “Rhysand is on his way back.”
“Tell him not to do something foolish,” Nesta warned as Elain realized Feyre could speak to the High Lord mind to mind. Elain squeezed both their hands. 
“Tell him to trust you.”
And then they were gone, gobbled up by the icy wind Nesta commanded. Elain held her breath, eyes squeezed shut even as the cold gave way to a cool, lilac scented breeze. Sunlight warmed her cheeks even as somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled threateningly. 
They were home. 
LUCIEN:
“Baby brother,” Tanwen began, clapping his hand on Lucien’s shoulder. Already, Lucien had regrets. Namely, agreeing to anything Eris had proposed, alliance or not. Let Autumn rot for all he cared—if Hybern swept in and took Spring, they’d take Autumn too. Eris could be High Lord for a month before he was replaced.
It was the thought that losing both Spring and Autumn left Summer vulnerable…and forced a battle to be fought in Winter, that convinced Lucien to unpack his clothes in a bedroom that smelled deceptively like apple pie. 
Now he was in the hall, snooping because he was bored, only to find himself face to face with Tanwen and Conall. He knew them apart by their height—Tanwen was taller, Connall bulkier—and the fact that Tanwen kept sharp-bladed axes strapped against his back. Connall merely looked dangerous, but Lucien knew Tanwen was the warrior, Connall another courtier.
“What do you want?” Lucien asked, shaking off Tanwen’s hand.
“Come outside with us. Play a game.”
“Is the game hunting me for sport?” he snapped.
Connall’s grin widened. “Tempting, but no. You’re the one who hates us, remember?”
No, Lucien very much did not remember that. Still, it seemed better not to argue with them when he was currently residing in their fragile court. “What’s the game?”
“Counting how many new sentries Tamlin has sent to our borders,” Tanwen said, flexing a broad hand at his side. Lucien hesitated, certain he must have heard that wrong. It seemed risky to let him see any of the inner workings of their court or relationships with other courts…unless there was something they wanted his father to know.
“How tightly does he guard his border?”
“Lately?” Connall asked, steering Lucien down a hall. Both Vanserra’s flanked him, leading him toward some exit he’d never seen before. Lucien was surprised they were offering him any information at all. Eris must have given them permission—their positions were precarious as it was. Any one of them could make a play for the throne. Could campaign quietly for an army, for support, kill Eris, and take his place.
And yet none of them seemed terribly interested in it. Not that he thought they’d betray that to him. Things seemed…peaceful. Sorted. And Connall didn’t hesitate as he told Lucien, “The borders are tightly patrolled on Spring’s end. They never used to be so well monitored.”
“We slipped over all the time,” Tanwen added with a savage smile. “There is the most delightful village with the curious problem of too many females and not enough males.”
Connall was grinning too, stepping through the immaculate lawn toward the forest beyond. “Say what you want about Spring Court, their females are unmatched.”
Lucien’s spine straightened, hackles raised. He didn’t offer a comment to that, hating both Tanwen and Connall had made him the butt of their joke. Lucien was also strangely drawn to the creeping forest. Something in his blood jumped at the rustling tree tops and the loamy scent emanating from the shifting, golden light slithering through the shadows. 
Tanwen glanced over. “You feel it?”
“Yeah,” Lucien agreed, unable to lie. 
Connall’s brows rose. “Interesting. We wondered…since mother…”
Never once in Lucien’s life had he wondered if he had any claim to Autumn. That place belonged to the Vanserra’s—his enemies. And because Lucien hated them so much, there was no reason Autumn would call to him. And maybe, if he’d known that this place was in his blood, he would have hated them all harder for it.
Lucien was his fathers son—had always been. 
But maybe he was his mothers, too. 
Lucien took a breath of crisp air before plunging into the woods after his brothers. It felt good to stand there, like something that had long been writhing in his body were suddenly soothed and settled. 
“Welcome home, little brother,” Tanwen murmured, shoving Lucien playfully with his shoulder. “Maybe you’ll think kinder of us, now.”
“Convince your father to let us see our mother more often,” Connall added, darkness lacing his otherwise easy words. 
It was on the tip of Lucien’s tongue to remind the two of them that it wasn’t his father that kept them away, but their own dead one. He was certain his mother had already written, begging them to come to dinner once a week, if not more. And Lucien knew—though of course his brothers didn’t—that his father had no say over what his mother chose to do. 
They’d have to figure that one out for themselves. Maybe Arina could model it for them, given Lucien very much doubted his friend was going to let Eris boss her around. Maybe they knew it, given there was no true anger in their expressions.
“Is there a reason you brought me out here?” he finally dared to ask.
“Just to see how you’d react,” Tanwen admitted, that practiced smile slipping back over his features. “Eris wanted to know.
“He could have asked—”
“And watch you refuse?” Connall replied, halting in front of Lucien. Their boots were lost in a sea of multi-colored leaves, their faces dappled in sunlight. “We have to force your hand to see you at all.
“Why would you want to?” Lucien demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. “We are—”
“Brothers,” Tanwent finished flatly. “Which clearly means nothing to you. Here, though…”
“That’s all we have,” Connall added, his expression neutral and guarded. “That’s all we’ve ever had. You don’t understand it and we’ve never held that against you but now…”
“Come on,” Tanwen said when it became clear Lucien wasn’t going to respond. What could he say? This was all news to him. Lucien was trying to parse through his memories, trying to piece together a time when he thought his brothers actually liked him. Never, if he was honest. He was content to trudge behind them, mind racing. What would life had been like if he’d been allowed to be friends with them?
Lucien couldn’t even imagine it. He tried for the duration of the now silent walk, but his mind rebelled. These were the Vanserra’s, tainted by their father no matter how they tried to untangle themselves from that legacy. Lucien’s whole world was shaped around Beron’s cruelty. To admit his brothers had somehow been spared of his influence meant everything Lucien had ever believed was fundamentally flawed.
He wanted to go home. Right then, Lucien considered just winnowing out and burying himself in his wife until this was a grainy, half-forgotten memory. The only thing keeping him from doing exactly that was the disappointment he could see so plainly on her face. She wouldn’t like knowing he’d left rather than try, nor would she appreciate him snubbing Eris when it was so clear that Eris had built some kind of trust with his mate.
So Lucien trudged on, increasingly aware of the world around him. The trees seemed to whisper secrets, speaking in a language he only half understood. Beside him, Tanwen’s head was cocked, ears twitching.
Connall had stopped altogether, one hand on his sword. The two brothers looked at each other before their gazes slid to Lucien.
“You’ll go home after all this,” Tanwen murmured, his voice a whisper on the wind. “And tell the solar courts what you saw.”
“What…” Lucien turned his head, looking through the thinning treeline. He’d expected sentries, well armed but mostly harmless. Not an encampment, with tents buttressed against the borders of Spring and Autumn. Stretching seemingly for miles, and likely touching Summer, too. It wasn’t guards, but a full army preparing for invasion. 
“Time to go,” Tanwen said, his word law. Both Lucien and Connall stumbled back, winnowing back to Autumn before anyone caught the scent of them. 
“Tamlins a fool,” Connall spat the moment they were inside the walls of the Forest House. “Foolish to think you could align with Hybern and not end up ashes, too.”
“Maybe he couldn’t back out of the deal,” Lucien suggested. His brothers turned to look at him, an idea forming in his mind. One his father almost certainly wouldn’t agree to…if he knew. Lucien could go on behalf of Eris, though. Take Connall or Tanwen or Cadmus with him.
“What are you thinking?”
“Two of us go. Just to visit, to extend a friendly welcome. Emissaries,” he added pointedly. “They wouldn’t tell us much, but we just need to see how much of Hybern has clawed its way into Prythian and convene the other six High Lords. And quickly.”
“Take Cadmus,” Tanwen said after a moment. “If Eris will allow it.”
“Lets go ask, then.”
In the end, it took very little convincing on Eris’s part. The words had only half left Lucien’s mouth before Eris was agreeing. Lucien intended to quickly pack his things, the thrill of doing something making him a little less careful than he usually was.
“Lucien. Cadmus,” Eris interrupted, halting them both in their path. “You come back together, or don’t come back at all. Do you understand me?”
Lucien and Cadmus looked at each other, a ripple of understanding passing between them. Brothers, Cadmus’s brown eyes seemed to say. Lucien inclined his head before turning to Eris.
“Understood, High Lord.”
“Don’t fuck this up,” Eris added, though who he was speaking to was anyone’s guess. Cadmus and Lucien exchanged another look, one that very clearly expressed their shared annoyance. It felt brotherly and Lucien didn’t hate that feeling. 
“Heard, loud and clear,” Cadmus mumbled with an eye roll.
“Let's get out of here,” Lucien added, reveling in the camaraderie. He ignored the knowing looks from Tanwen and Connall, telling himself this was his way out of his promise to Eris. 
Knowing full well it counted, all the same.
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whorekneecentral · 2 years
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Okay I have an idea... sex with Mick in his drivers room, maybe with phase 63 from the prompts- he comes out looking like this -> https://daydreamingleclerc.tumblr.com/post/696412841256845312
no cause shut the fuck up, I said the same thing to Emi went I saw this for the first time (this one’s for you @daydreamingleclerc) // prompt 63: “you wanna do this right now? even thought we could get caught?” 
Mick followed you down the hallway, you told him it was an emergency, that you needed his help with something. 
“What’s wrong?” He asks as you shut the door, pulling on the zipper of his race suit. 
He quickly realizes what the ‘emergency’ was. “You wanna do this right now? Even thought we could get caught?” He asks you, kissing you whilst walking back towards the couch. 
“Please,” you push the race suit off his shoulders, “Mick, c’mon.” You let him turn you around, bending you over the arm rest of the couch. 
“You like the thought of that, don't you?” He pushes your dress up, “the idea of getting caught.” 
“Mick, shut up and fuck me.” 
He laughs, tugging down the race suit a little more. His name tumble past your lips, feeling him push into you. You both knew this had to be quick, he had his qualifying session soon, you weren't sure what time it was but surely you had enough time. 
Or at least you thought so. 
Someone knocks on the door, shouting for Mick and telling him that he’s needed in the garage now. You groan, Mick leans down to kiss your shoulder. 
“Sorry angel, I'll make it up to you. I promise.” He kisses you, both of you putting the clothes back in their place before walking into the garage. 
You were following behind Mick, his hair a mess and he was readjusting his racesuit. Kevin happens to notices the two of you and smiles, there’s no way you two didn’t just get caught. 
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wrathofrats · 6 months
Text
Day 7: Cockwarming/ objectification
Super short and sweet Zephrit
Prompts by @kroas-adtam
Zephyrs having a bad flare and ifrit is a sweet little heating pad.
Or Zeph is a brat and ifrit is so down bad for him he just lets him get what he wants.
(I promise Zeph loves him so much, I just made him a grumpy asshole because I too am chronically Ill and am an asshat when in pain)
A searing pain shot through zephyrs back as he sat up. His muscles locked as he tried to take short breaths through the pain. He swung his legs over his bed to grab his cane to lean on as he sat. A dull ache started in his hips and hands as he willed the heat in his back to die down so he could stand.
It was a bad flare. He felt tired, his joints ached, his head felt like it was pounding. He slowly stood up, supporting all his weight on his cane.
He knew he was going to be bitchy, petulant, but he needed something to take the edge off, knew exactly who he wanted.
Zeph all but threw open ifrits door
“Hi whirlwind-“
“Strip” Zeph growled
It was a miracle truly that ifrit was as soft and sweet as he was, any other ghoul would’ve had Zeph on the floor with such a demand. But ifrit?
“Not feeling well?” He asks concerned, ridding himself of his shirt. Once Zeph walks over to the bed he grabs his hips and lifts him into his lap, a small smile on his face as he pets his hair. Zeph continued to stare at him with a scowl.
“No. Gonna use you. Make you my warm little toy”
“Am I your little heating pad for tonight? Help your joints? I’m sorry you’re in pain love” ifrit was too sweet for his own good. Zeph almost wanted to wipe that stupid smile straight off his face, but the way his hands softly rubbed over his hips made up for how nice he was being to him. Ifrit carefully removed Zephs clothing, trying not to jostle him too much.
“Shut up. Good toys don’t speak” he spits. Ifrits soft expression doesn’t falter. Something between concern and admiration in his eyes.
“Head hurt? I can be quieter.” Ifrit slowly lowers Zeph onto his cock, hands massaging his hips the entire way, letting him sink down at his pace. Zeph let’s out a long groan when he’s fully seated. The warmth ifrit lets himself radiate feeling like heaven on his aching joints.
“Fuck”
“There you go, come here” the fire ghoul leans Zeph against his chest, rubbing his back. “Feel good?”
“Yeah, be a good toy and don’t move” he mumbled into his chest.
“I won’t darling, just let me take care of you”
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