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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year ago

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Zombie! Ghost NSFW Headcanons

Warnings: 18+, Zombie Fucking, Monster Fucking, Zombie! Ghost, Human! Reader, Zombie Anatomy, Cockwarming, Unprotected Sex, Stagnant Semen, Stomach Bulge, Stomach Swelling, Mention of Breeding, Engorged Penis, Brief Worry of Infection, Mentions of Blood, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

Zombie!Ghost who’s been travelling with you for the last couple of months or so.

Zombie! Ghost who wasn’t like all the other infected — he retained most of his autonomy with only his body succumbing to the disease, blood smattered down his tactical gear, eyes milky.

Zombie!Ghost who, though he can’t speak, can still communicate via growls, gurgles and groans, as well as body language, albeit in a stiff manner.

Zombie!Ghost who, despite existing in a decaying body, has retained most of his human, primal urges. Even had some of them enhanced.

Zombie!Ghost who, though you might not know it, rocks himself into his hand when the night is quiet, your name and face on his mind amidst the buzz of the virus telling him to act on his base instincts to eat, feed and breed.

Zombie!Ghost who sees that, much to his lethargic delight, this was the case for you, too.

On many a night had he caught you with something hard between your legs, trying desperately to alleviate the the knots below your stomach.

Zombie!Ghost who, one night, after a long day of running from the undead and hiding in an enclosed space with you, chest to chest as you both waited for the horde to pass, found that palming himself did nothing to rid him of the aching feeling between his legs.

Zombie!Ghost who can sense that you’re the same: all that excess adrenaline and pent-up sexual frustration permeated the air with scent only a creature like Ghost could smell. A scent which he followed to the door of your room.

He knocked. Once. Heard you shuffling, scurrying, before clearing your throat, telling him to “Come in,”

Zombie! Ghost who can see your hasty attempt to cover yourself, your pants pulled up with such speed that you’d neglected to zip them back up, the hem of your underwear showing between the open space.

Zombie!Ghost who sees your eyes flicker to his trousers, widen slightly, before returning to his eyes.

Zombie!Ghost who wastes no time, kicking the door shut behind him and taking heavy, deliberate steps towards you.

Zombie! Ghost whose hand slithers down his front to the bulge between his legs, never taking his eyes off yours as he squeezes it, letting out a guttural groan.

Zombie! Ghost who knows you’re intelligent enough to pick up what he’s putting down. Even if you are stunned into momentary silence.

Zombie! Ghost who feels something in him grow warm when you look up at him with wide eyes, asking him, tentatively: “But…won’t I get infected?”

Zombie! Ghost who shakes his head, for he can do little more to put your mind at ease save for leaving and never proposing such a thing again.

Zombie! Ghost who sees you mulling it over in your mind, though he can tell by the rampant heat coming from between your thighs, the tantalising scent of your hormones thickening in the air, that your mind is already made up.

Zombie! Ghost who approaches with a rabid look in his eyes, coming to stand right where you need him.

Zombie! Ghost who has to bite back a growl when he feels your fingers brush him through his clothes, taking the zipper of his pants between your fingers and pulling it down.

Zombie! Ghost who, after having himself freed of his tactical gear, lies back on the bed, watching your mouth drop open as you see his swollen, drooling, stiffened cock for the first time, blackened veins running up the shaft. Pulsating. Something viscous and almost white oozes from the tip.

Zombie! Ghost who has to resist the urge to buck his hips when you come to straddle him, your pants and underwear abandoned somewhere on the mattress.

Zombie! Ghost who shudders when his tip meets your heat, the first semblance of warmth he’s felt since his un-death.

Zombie! Ghost who, even with his vocal cords having thoroughly decayed, lets out a carnal growl as you take him, sinking down onto his tip and wincing at the coldness — the size — of him.

Zombie! Ghost who can only wait for you to adjust to his girth and his lack of temperature as you sink further, a bulge in your stomach forming.

Zombie! Ghost who can feel you squeezing around him, already coaxing him to forfeit his restraint and pump you full of the stagnant semen all but bursting from his engorged ballsack. The consequence of not having an outlet for weeks.

Zombie! Ghost who gasps, back arching against the mattress, his gloved bands coming to grip your waist while he grinds up into you, desperate to feel more of your warmth.

Zombie! Ghost who can barely hold it together (literally) as you rock yourself on his cock, whimpering and gasping as he fills every ounce of space your body can give him.

Zombie! Ghost who can see that this is the turning point for your relationship — that the two of you have entered something you wouldn’t be able to explain to others even if you wanted to. If there was anyone left to explain it to.

Zombie! Ghost who, the longer and harder you rock against him, lifting yourself and dropping again back onto him, feels himself start to come undone, starts to feel the all-too human tremours and electricity — the tell-tale signs of a release.

Zombie! Ghost who, when he sees you try to pull away, try to stop him from splattering your insides with his seed, tightens his grip on your waist, keeping you flush against him.

Zombie! Ghost who, despite his lethargy, bucks up into you. Despite your protests, your begging for him to “Pull out — please!” knows it’s far too late as his eyes squeeze shut and his body spasms.

You’re filled with a wet coldness that can’t possibly be mistaken for anything else. And what’s more, there’s tons of it. You’re sure the sheer amount of semen Ghost is pumping you full of is going to leave your stomach swollen for days to come.

Zombie! Ghost who bounces you on his dick until he feels you cum, hears you cry out, sees you go limp, his hands keeping you upright.

Zombie! Ghost who, in the panting, sweating, sweltering aftermath, lays you beside him, his cock still deep inside you, a parasite in its own right as it sought and fed from your warmth.

Zombie! Ghost who brings an arm around you, pulling your back to his front, his face in your hair.

Zombie! Ghost who, tiring now, wonders if you’d have been together like this when he was a human, when he was alive.

Zombie! Ghost who wonders how he’s managed to live without you in the first place. Who knows now he’ll do anything to make sure that never happens.

Zombie! Ghost who can feel that you’ve fallen into a deep slumber, your breathing steady.

Zombie! Ghost who wonders how much of his strength, his load, you can take — where and when you’ll get yourself off on him next.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

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lxvvie · 7 months ago

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Couples Shit with Simon Riley, Parenthood Edition:

Thinking it's so cute the way your little bundle of joy scrunches up, especially when she's laying on you and/or Simon.

Simon's irregular sleep schedule making him the perfect playmate for little Miss Riley when she's up and at 'em at night. You remember walking into the living room once and watching Simon just walk around, daughter bundled up in her baby blanket in his arms, cooing and gurgling at her Papa, them having their own conversation, and watching Simon fall in love all over again.

Being hypervigilant to the point that every noise the baby makes prompts you to wake up and panic. The baby whined, you sat straight up in bed, only to see Simon staring at you in concern and baby Riley sound asleep on his chest.

Conversely, thinking something is wrong because you haven't heard the baby cry, waking up in a panic yet again only to be met with Simon and the baby looking at you crazy.

Simon officially becoming a bed for you and baby Riley. It's not uncommon for her to lay on his chest while you're nestled at his side and his arm is around you.

Absolutely, positively loving to put the baby sling on Simon and watching your big beefy lover tote the baby around in it. Also, taking a picture and sending it to the boys. The big bad Ghost? In a baby sling???? Huh. Looks cute on him.

Parental guilt, especially on Simon's end with him being gone on deployments. He made damn sure to see his baby girl take her first steps because he missed it when she began to start fully crawling.

Baby girl being captivated by the scars on Simon's face. And his crooked nose. Loves to grab at his face and you're amused by the way he scrunches his nose when she does so. Apparently baby girl is, too.

You and Simon playing with the baby and next thing you know, you hear a wet fart. Simon chuckles out of amusement and to keep from dying inside because he just changed her nappy. You conveniently had to go walk the cat and made yourself scarce. Meanwhile, baby girl is giggling and gurgling up a storm.

When she gets older, little Miss Riley loves it when Simon carries her like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder. She'll run up to him and go, " 'tato, Daddy! 'tato!" and next thing you know, there's a giggling toddler slung over her dad's shoulder.

Baby girl drawing a picture of her parents at school and Simon's shoulders are bigger than... everything else on his body. Even his head. You're so tickled that you framed it.

Similarly, sneaking one of her drawings into Simon's bag so he'll see it when he's gone. He does and it's all the more reason for him to fight like hell to see you two again.

Having to limit the amount of sweets you buy because Princess Miss Riley has inherited her dad's sweet tooth. Doesn't stop them from sneaking out to go to their favorite bakery.

Baby girl being the best helper ever around the house, especially when she walks on Daddy's back to help alleviate the stiffness.

Because she likes to draw so much, Simon promised his daughter that she can design the next tattoo he gets. Well, it turns into an entire project and you and her proceed to draw butterflies and other cute designs on his other arm. True to his word, Simon gets another sleeve tattoo with those same drawings. Cheers, luvs.

Simon being in the doghouse with little Miss Riley because he was supposed to wake up with true love's first kiss because you and Simon were reenacting Sleeping Beauty for your daughter. Simon may or may not have taken it a bit too seriously and dozed off. Your baby girl is now upset because this means Sleeping Beauty will never wake up again and no amount of treats from daddy can change that. Princess Daddy status has officially been revoked, Simon. For now lmao.

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tteokdoroki · 1 year ago

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☆༉ — SATORU GOJO. pretty brown eyes.

about. gojo might be the one with the six eyes, but there’s nothing special about those. your brown eyes are real weapon, here.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! sfw, fluff, hurt comfort. slight hints to insomnia, idk how infinity works sorry, reader has brown eyes, afab!reader.

“you could kill me if you wanted to.”

it’s the dead of night when he whispers your name. though low in volume, his tongue curls around each syllable loud enough for you to hear him. “

“‘toru, what are you on about—” digging the heal of your palm into your eyes, you dislodge the crust from your lash line and groan. the red lines on your digital clock read sometime between three and four am— but the digits blur as your mind swims with sleep.

“your eyes. they’re so perfect.” a loving grin etches itself onto his face when you crack one open to look at him, masking over the exhaustion seeping from his pores and the anxiety that spikes in the sapphire pools of his own eyes. “you should be able to get away with anything because of them.”

“baby,” you reiterate and roll over to face him fully. gojo gets like this when he’s overworked and worried, when there’s something big on his mind you’re not quite sure you’d understand. you move to jab a thumb into his forehead, right between his brows to alleviate the ache in his skull but you don’t let your disappointment show when rough skin meets the dull buzz of his infinity.

you forget that his six eyes flow in the dark — that his blue eyes are not as blue as they seem. “you’re talking nonsense, it’s late. get some sleep.”

“my eyes. they could kill me if i worked too hard.”

satoru’s eyes are a lot stormier than most would expect, they can be dark and cold. like an angry ocean tired of tournament. they can be bright, full of hope and loving — you notice that change whenever he’s with your students. they hide behind the frame of his ability, the one that hardly ever turns off despite how it really could kill him.

his mind is always running, his body almost always on empty.

in the moonlight, you see a faint sliver of silver between the flecks of diamond and stormy skies.

he swipes a gentle thumb just over cheek yours to catch a fallen lash. “but yours,” gojo continues, voice thoughtful and low. tired above all else. “those pretty brown eyes…baby, they’re dangerous in a different way. beautiful in another that makes me feel safe. puts my mind at ease or somethin’. one look ‘nd I’d be doing anything for you,”

there the two of you are, face to face in the dark — cheeks pressed to pillows and heads under the covers as if you’re children shielding yourself from the world. creating the safe space to let satoru confess.

“if those pretty brown eyes were the last thing i got to see before i died. then i think i’d be okay.”

“don’t say that.” your face crumples and his infinity falls away as if gojo had been anticipating your touch, the buzz just shocking through your skin as you wrap your arms around his larger frame, pull his head down to your heart beating in your chest. “you’re not allowed to die, satoru. not yet.”

“i know.” for once he’s grateful he can’t see your eyes — he hates the way they shine when you cry.

“i need you.”

“i know.” he’s quiet. “i need you too.”

“then rest, you don’t have to keep watch.” gojo feels the shake in your lungs as you speak. you worry too much about him. but with your hand cascading through his soft locks, and the other squeezing him close he’s finding it hard to resist.

usually when he lays next to you, he’s stiff as a board, always anticipating whatever danger might come next. but the biggest threat to him of all is you, and those big brown bambi eyes of yours — the way they’re wet with love, shiny with tears because you adore satoru gojo. you care about him way too much for your own good.

those eyes of yours are convincingly treacherous , he can’t help but let his body sag and let go of his cursed technique while you rub his back and soothe him.

“you’re dangerous, yanno,” satoru grunts, lips dragging along your skin with every word. “especially when you look at me like that, with those puppy dog eyes…can’t say no to you.”

but you smile as he drifts off, his tall frame heavy against you — your lashes blinking soft against his forehead as you curl around him protectively. “i’d rather use them to get you to rest, rather than kill you. ‘toru.”

your words are wasted on deaf ears — his deep snore indicating that gojo is finally asleep, doing himself a favour and locking his pretty blue eyes away.

#gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo angst #gojo x yn #satoru gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader #idk im sad and i love him #self indulgent slay #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #✧ ₊˚💭੭ — aali just posted #angelshubnetwork

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ultravioletrayz · 1 month ago

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KINKTOBER

╰┈➤ DAY NINE: DEGRADATION w/ ELLIE WILLIAMS

"Are you trying to get yourself killed, or did you just want to be treated like a whore after acting so fucking dumb?" Ellie spits out, her words laced with venom and cruelty as she tugs at your hair, pulling your ass flush against her pelvis, the belts of her strap scraping against your plush skin, making you sniffle and let out a choked sob as you twitch and writhe.

All you can do is whine pathetically, grinding your drooling cunt against the base of the dildo for any form of alleviating pleasure. Ellie scoffs, shoving your face back into the pillows.

"Fuck, I should just get rid of you myself. Beats having to blow your pretty brains out when you finally get turned. Unless you just wanna hurt me. Wanna get killed and leave me to rot alone. Fucking bitch." She growls, her hand moving to your aching clit, squeezing and twisting it cruelly. You let out a moan, unable to help yourself despite the pain. Ellie chuckles darkly, her other hand reaching around to grab a fistful of your hair, holding your head still as she continues to torment you.

She thrusts her hips forward again, driving the dildo deeper into your sopping wet cunt with a sickening squelch. You can feel the heat of her body against yours, the sweat dripping down her flushed skin as she leans in close.

"You know you love this." She whispers maliciously in your ear, her hot breath tickling the lobe as she grinds her hips against you in a slow, teasing rhythm that she knows isn't enough for your greedy pussy.

Her other hand moves to grope and massage one of your breasts, pinching the nipple roughly between her fingers. You try desperately to wriggle away from the pain and the humiliation, but every move only serves to drive Ellie's dildo deeper into your cunt. Her thrusts become harder and faster, mirroring the intensity of your own rising desire. You can feel yourself getting closer to another orgasm, even as you beg for mercy between shuddering gasps.

"Please... Ellie..." You whimper pathetically, arching your back off the bed in an attempt to escape the torment. But Ellie doesn't relent. Instead, she tightens her grip on your hair and on your breast, leaning in close so that her tits press against the heated skin of your arched back.

"Say it." She pants out, her breath hot against your neck. "Say that you're fucking useless. Say that you're only good for your dirty pussy."

Your face burns with shame as you comply weakly, too fucked out and desperate to retort, "I'm useless. Only- only good for my pussy."

With a low, triumphant chuckle, Ellie picks up the pace, thrusting into you so hard and fast that you can barely catch your breath. Your insides are a mushy mass of aches and pleasures, every nerve ending on fire with desire and humiliation. She slams into you over and over again, grunting with effort as she works your body into a frenzy. You can feel the headboard thudding against the wall with each brutal thrust, echoing the rhythm of her hips.

Your cries mix with her grunts, your pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears as Ellie takes what she wants from you. And she wants it all. She wants to break you down and make you hers, to own your body and soul until there's nothing left of either one. Those thoughts are usually more pure, but right now, something sick and angry inside of Ellie wants to punish you for your stupid mistakes out on the last scout, those mistakes that almost costed her the love of her life.

You stupid bitch.

Your pussy clenches and throbs around the strap as your orgasm hits you like a freight train, tearing through every fibre of your being as Ellie's hands clench tighter in your hair and around your breast. You scream out her name in a mixture of pain and ecstasy, bucking wildly beneath her as you gush around the girthy silicone.

Ellie breathes heavily as she pulls out of you agonisingly slow, watching the way your pussy gapes and squirts as you collapse onto the stiff mattress, sobbing into the pillows.

"Sorry. Just... be more careful next time." Ellie huffs, getting up to tidy herself up and leaving you there to think about what you've done.

THIS IS UNINTENTIONALLY SO ANGSTY OML

@xluvablz

#ultravioletrayz #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #tlou ellie #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams x y/n #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #𖤓uv-c𖤓

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chosok-amo · 2 months ago

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CRAMPS IS SHIT : GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU

you walk out of your bedroom, the dull ache in your lower abdomen makes every step feel like a small battle. as you enter the living room, the familiar sight of your two boyfriends comes into view. geto is stretched out on the couch, a book in his hand, while gojo sits on the floor in front of him, eyes focused on the tv screen, engrossed in his video game. the gentle sounds of the game mix with the soft rustling of pages, creating a comforting background noise.

they both notice you immediately. geto’s eyes soften as he watches you approach, and gojo pauses his game, turning to look at you with concern. geto sets his book aside, patting the space on his chest, silently inviting you closer.

without a word, you slide under his book on top of him, resting your head against his chest, your body pressing against his. his arms wrap around you instinctively, holding you close. you let out a soft sigh, the warmth of his body offering some relief to the cramps that are mercilessly wracking through you.

gojo abandons his game without a second thought, crawling on the couch to press against you. he tucks himself under geto's arm, nestling his head against your hip, while geto's arm curls around him.

“cramps are bad again, huh,” gojo mumbles, gently rubbing your hip. there is a hint of worry in his tone.

geto runs a hand through your hair, fingers massaging your scalp soothingly. “do you need us to get you anything?” you nod, eyes fluttering shut as you relax into the comfort of their touch. the pain is still there, gnawing at your insides, but being nestled between the two of them makes it a little more bearable. you can feel gojo's gentle rubs on your hip and the soothing strokes of geto's fingers through your hair, easing some of the tension.

“just… stay like this,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. you're too drained to say more, but they understand. they always do.

they both nod silently, cuddling closer to you. gojo moves higher, pressing soft kisses to your stomach, his hand switching from rubbing your hip to gently massaging it, trying to alleviate the cramps.

geto pulls the soft fleece blanket from the back of the couch, unfolding it to cover you all. his lips find your forehead, leaving behind a series of light kisses.

for minutes that feel endless, they stay like that, silently offering you comfort and love, enveloping you in their embrace. after a while, you feel a slight shift against your hip as gojo pulls away to stretch his limbs properly. he had been crunched up in an uncomfortable position for a while now.

“i'm gonna go get you something,” he murmurs, sitting up as much as possible without moving you too much.

“need some water too?” geto adds, his hand resuming its soothing motions through your hair. you nod slightly, your eyes still closed as you savor the warmth and comfort of geto’s embrace. “actually... do we still have that chocolate you bought not long ago? or anything sweet?” you ask softly, your voice slightly muffled against geto's chest.

gojo perks up at your request, a small smile tugging at his lips. “of course we do. you know suguru stashes sweets like it's an apocalypse supply,” he chuckles, giving geto a playful nudge.

geto huffs softly but grins, his fingers still moving gently through your hair. “can't have you raiding the cupboards every other hour,” he teases lightly. “satoru will grab some chocolate for you, sweetheart. anything else?”

you shake your head, appreciating how they always seem to have what you need. “just something sweet,” you mumble, feeling a little better knowing they’re taking care of you. gojo stands up, stretching again to relieve the stiffness in his limbs. he glances back at you and geto, his expression a mix of concern and affection.

“i'll be back in a bit,” he says quietly. his eyes linger on you for a moment, silently asking if you're alright, before he heads to the kitchen to search for the chocolate you requested. geto adjusts his position slightly, pulling you closer against him, his hand continuing to tangle through your hair.

“you doing okay, doll?”

you nod weakly against his chest, a small sigh escaping your lips as you nuzzle closer into his warmth. “i feel like i can't walk,” you admit softly, your voice laced with a mix of exhaustion and frustration. the cramps have drained most of your energy, and just the thought of moving feels impossible.

geto's hand pauses for a moment before resuming its gentle movements through your hair. he presses another soft kiss to your forehead, his touch reassuring. “then you don't have to,“ he murmurs, his voice calm and soothing. “just stay right here with me.“

you relax a little more, comforted by his words and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. the pain is still there, but his presence makes it bearable. “thanks, suguru,” you whisper, letting yourself sink deeper into the comfort of his embrace.

you hear gojo rummaging around in the kitchen, the sound of cabinets opening and closing. it’s a reminder that both of them are here, taking care of you in their own ways. it’s enough to make you feel a little less weighed down by the pain, knowing you’re not alone in this.

geto murmurs a soft “it's alright, doll” as he feels you relax against him. he continues his soothing motions through your hair, the gentle massage of his fingers against your scalp providing a small respite from the discomfort.

he pauses for a moment as he hears gojo still rummaging around in the kitchen. “satoru, just bring the whole damn chocolate stash,” he calls out, his voice low but tinged with amusement and annoyance since he doesn't want you to wait for too long.

gojo laughs from the kitchen, the sound echoing lightly. “i'm not sure she needs to eat the entire stash!” gojo eventually emerges from the kitchen, a handful of chocolate bars in one hand and a steaming mug of water in the other. he approaches the couch, setting the snacks on the coffee table before returning his gaze to you.

he sits down on the edge of the couch, facing you and geto. “here we are,” he says, his voice soft and soothing. “chocolate for our sweet.”

his hand reaches out to gently caress your cheek, his thumb tracing a feather-light pattern across your skin. “how are you feeling?” you blink slowly, feeling a bit dazed from the combination of pain and medication. you manage a weak nod, turning your head slightly towards gojo's touch.

“better,” you reply quietly, your voice hoarse. gojo's hand feels cool against your flushed skin, a contrast to the warmth of geto behind you.

geto's arm tightens around you slightly, his chest rising and falling under you as he hums in agreement. “the heating pad should help too, we'll put that on her after she finishes,” he adds, tilting his head to look at gojo. gojo smiles faintly and nodded, his eyes never leaving your face. the concern is still present in his gaze, but he tries to mask it with a light-hearted tone.

“you look like you're about to pass out,” he teases gently, reaching out to brush a few loose strands of hair away from your face. he reaches for the chocolates on the table, picking up a piece and tearing the wrapper open. “open up,” he instructs, holding the piece of chocolate near your mouth.

your lips part obediently as gojo brings the chocolate to your mouth. you accept the morsel without protest, the sweet chocolate melting on your tongue and momentarily dulling the bitter taste of medicine.

gojo's eyes remain fixed on you as he watches you chew and swallow the chocolate, his expression a mix of tenderness and concern.

geto's hand resumes its gentle strokes through your hair, his fingers playing with the silken strands. “need more?” he asks quietly. gojo doesn't wait for your response before tearing open another piece of chocolate and holding it out for you to take. he seems determined to keep feeding you, whether you feel like eating or not.

“you need to eat something,” he murmurs, his tone firm but caring.

geto watches quietly from behind you, his hand still rubbing gentle circles over your side. he doesn't say anything, letting gojo handle the situation for now.

you open your mouth again, letting gojo feed you another piece of chocolate. the sweetness on your tongue is nice, but your stomach feels a bit unsettled from the pain medications.

“not too much,” you murmur between pieces, your voice a little hoarse. “might get nauseous…”

geto nods in agreement, his arm tightening slightly around your waist. “take it slow,” he advises, his fingers still moving gently through your hair. you nod slowly, keeping your eyes closed as you chew the chocolate, savoring the sweetness despite the unsettled feeling in your stomach. resting your head back on geto’s chest, you let out a soft breath, focusing on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the gentle strokes of his fingers through your hair.

gojo finishes feeding you the chocolate, setting the empty wrappers aside on the coffee table. he scoots a little closer, his hand returning to your cheek, his thumb gently tracing small circles over your skin.

“feeling alright, doll?“ he asks softly, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

geto's arm remains around you, anchoring you to the comfort of his chest. he glances at gojo, a small smile playing on his lips, before he looks back down at the top of your head, his hand continuing its soothing caresses through your hair.

gojo's eyes remain fixed on you, studying your every move, every flinch, every nuance in your expression. his gaze is intense but soft, filled with concern and an endless reservoir of affection.

“you look a little pale,” he notes, his voice low.

geto nods in agreement, his fingers pausing for a moment in your hair. “you don't feel like puking, do you?” you nod slightly, your eyes still closed as you rest against geto’s chest. “i’m alright,” you whisper, though your voice is strained. “it’s just the cramps… still bad. and i feel hot, not feeling good.”

gojo and geto exchange a concerned look over your head. they both know what this means. the pain is not only intense but also causing fevers.

gojo reaches out to press the back of his hand against your forehead to check your temperature. “you're burning up,“ he confirms, his voice laced with worry. geto's fingers resume their message against your scalp. “how long have you been like this?“

a wave of dizziness washes over you, causing you to sway slightly. gojo's hand quickly supports your neck, keeping you from falling forward. “easy there,” he whispers, his tone comforting yet firm. “you’re not okay, doll.” geto's hold tightens around you, pulling you a little closer to him in a protective gesture.

you mumble, “i don’t know,” your voice barely above a whisper, as you keep your eyes closed, letting the dizziness wash over you. it's not the first time this has happened—sometimes the cramps are just so bad, they bring on a fever, and today seems to be one of those days.

gojo and geto both exchange another worried look over your head. they’re both aware of your tendency to get fevers during particularly bad bouts of cramps, but this time it feels a little more intense.

gojo's hand continues to support your neck, his touch anchoring you. he glances at geto, silently communicating his concern. “we should probably move her to the bedroom,” he suggests quietly. “she needs to lie down.”

geto nods in agreement, his fingers reluctantly withdrawing from your hair. “i’ll carry her,” he says, his tone firm.

he gently untangles himself from your body, sitting up and carefully lifting you into his arms. you’re light and fragile in his embrace, and he cradles you against his chest, treating you like the most precious treasure.

a pained groan slips from your lips as geto lifts you, the slight movement sending a sharp wave of discomfort through your abdomen. your grip tightens instinctively around his shirt, your eyes still squeezed shut as you try to breathe through the pain.

“sorry, sorry,” geto murmurs softly, his voice laced with guilt as he tries to adjust his hold to be gentler. “i'm trying to be as careful as i can.” geto's grip on you is firm yet gentle, trying his best to minimize any further pain. as he holds you, he can feel the heat radiating off your body despite your shuddering.

“it's okay,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the top of your head in a soothing gesture. “i've got you. we're just going to the bedroom.” he starts walking slowly, gojo following closely behind, his own expression laced with concern.

as geto carefully carries you towards the bedroom, gojo moves ahead to prepare the bed. he pulls the covers back and turns on the bedside lamp, casting a warm, soft glow over the room.

once he’s finished, he turns to see geto entering the bedroom, your form still cradled in his strong arms. “gently,” he cautions, as geto carefully lowers you onto the bed. the mattress dips slightly as you sink into the plush comfort, your body still trembling weakly from the pain.

gojo’s hand immediately reaches out to check your forehead, feeling the heat radiating from your skin. worry fills his eyes as he pulls back. “you’re really burning up,” he mutters, his voice laced with concern.

geto gently settles you against the pillows, smoothing the hair back from your face. he gently pries your hands from his shirt, taking a moment to place a soft kiss against your knuckles. “you’re gonna be okay,” he reassures you, his voice low and comforting.

gojo moves to the other side of the bed, sitting down beside you. he carefully pulls the covers up over your trembling form, tucking you in snugly.

“we'll take care of you,” he murmurs, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face. geto moves to the foot of the bed, crossing his arms as his eyes scan over your form. he studies your every breath, every twitch, committing it all to memory.

the warmth of the covers is comforting, but they do nothing to soothe the pain gnawing at your stomach.

you let out a soft whimper, your body betraying the extent of your discomfort. gojo and geto both notice the sound, their own expressions darkening further. gojo is the first to break the silence. “should we give her more pain medication?” he asks quietly, his eyes flicking towards geto across the bed.

geto’s gaze doesn’t leave you as he considers the question. he knows the medication can only do so much, especially with your pain tolerance. he nods slowly, “yes, but something stronger. the over-the-counter ones don’t seem to be working.” gojo looks down at you, his hand subconsciously reaching out to gently stroke your hair. “i’ll get it,” he offers, moving to stand up.

geto’s eyes soften as he watches gojo stand up and leave the room, grateful for his quick response. his focus shifts back to you, noticing the faint tension in your expression from the lingering pain. he adjusts his hold on you, making sure you're as comfortable as possible in his arms.

“do you need your heating pad for your cramps?” geto asks gently, his voice low and filled with concern. he knows how much the heat helps to ease some of the pain, even if just a little.

he rubs soothing circles on your back, his thumb tracing gentle patterns in an effort to comfort you. “i can grab it for you if it helps,” he continues, his tone warm and reassuring, wanting to do whatever he can to make you feel better.

you manage a small nod, the tension in your face still visible.

“yes, please,” you whisper, your voice hoarse and weak.

geto gives a soft smile, his hand gently stroking your hair. “i won't be gone for long,” he assures you, his voice soft but firm. he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head before carefully sliding off the bed. he shoots one more glance at you before disappearing out the door to collect the heating pad.

as soon as he's out the door, gojo returns, a small pill in his hand. he moves to your side, holding out the pill and a glass of water for you to take.

“this should help,” he mutters, his voice laced with concern.

he watches as you take the pill, his hand moving to support your head and ease the pill down your throat as you swallow. once you've finished, he gently lowers your head back onto the pillow, his hand remaining on the side of your face to caress your cheek.

geto returns a few moments later, the heating pad in his hands. he moves to your side of the bed, plugging the device into the socket by the bed. he then sits down next to you, gently placing the heated pad against your abdomen.

the warmth from the pad instantly radiates through your body, providing a small source of relief to the pain in your abdomen. geto adjusts the heating pad, making sure it’s positioned in the right spot.

you close your eyes, letting out a quiet, relieved sigh as the warmth from the heating pad begins to seep into your aching muscles. it’s not a perfect fix, but it’s something—a small comfort amidst the relentless pain.

“thank you,” you murmur softly, your voice barely above a whisper. the heat is soothing, helping to dull the sharp edges of your cramps just a bit.

both gojo and geto give a small smile at your whispered thanks, their faces relaxing slightly as they see the small change in your expression. “you’re welcome, doll,” gojo responds quietly, his hand continuing to gently caress your hair.

geto moves his hand to yours, intertwining his fingers with yours. “try to get some rest, alright?” he instructs gently, giving your hand a soft squeeze.

gojo carefully climbs onto the bed, settling himself against the headboard on one side of you. he slings his arm around your shoulders, pulling you gently against his chest. “lean on me, okay?” he instructs softly, his thumb tracing light circles over your arm.

geto shifts on the bed, mirroring gojo's movement on the other side. he drapes his arm across your stomach, his hand resting gently just below the heating pad. both of them hold you between them, their bodies providing a warm cocoon of comfort around yours.

you let out a soft chuckle, your eyes still closed as you enjoy the warmth and comfort they’re providing. “you two take care of me so well,” you murmur with a hint of playful sarcasm in your voice. “i feel like i’m some seriously ill patient about to die soon.”

both gojo and geto give a small chuckle in response to your comment. “don’t even joke about that,” gojo replies, his voice light but holding a serious undertone.

“we care about you,” geto adds, his thumb stroking your arm in soft, soothing motions. “we just want to make sure you're comfortable and not in too much pain.”

“besides,” gojo continues, his hand lightly ruffling your hair. “you know we can't stand seeing you in pain. it kills us that there's nothing more we can do.” he presses a gentle kiss against the top of your head, his touch tender and affectionate.

you let out a soft, playful laugh, your eyes still closed as you savor their affection. “well, that’s also a good excuse for you guys to slack off from teaching, huh?” you tease, your voice light with amusement. both geto and gojo pretend to look offended, feigning shock at your suggestion.

“who, us? slack off?” gojo responds, a hint of humor in his voice. “we'd never dream of it.” geto grins, joining in on the playful banter. “indeed,” he agrees, “we are the epitome of dedication and responsibility as teachers.”

you snort softly, nodding as you turn your head to the left, keeping your eyes closed. “yeah, right,” you mumble with a hint of playful sarcasm.

as you settle back against their warm embrace, your expression gradually relaxes. the combination of their affectionate banter, the soothing warmth of the heating pad, and their comforting presence helps you let out a deep sigh of relief.

their lighthearted responses have managed to ease some of the discomfort, and you let yourself fully relax into their care, feeling a sense of peace and comfort despite the lingering pain.

gojo and geto share a knowing look as they see your expression relax. they’re both pleased to see that their efforts are having a positive effect on you, even if it’s just a small improvement.

gojo’s hand continues to gently caress your head, his touch light and soothing.

“there you go,” he murmurs softly. “just relax and rest, doll.” both geto and gojo smile as they watch you relax further into their embrace, their arms wrapping tighter around you.

“see?” geto teases gently, his voice filled with affection. “we're totally responsible.”

gojo chuckles, his hand continuing to brush through your hair in soft strokes. “yeah, just ignore the fact that we're skipping a whole day of teaching just to take care of you.”

geto gives a small shrug, a mischievous twinkle appearing in his eyes.

“details, details,” he replies airily, his expression light. “what are a few missed lessons in the grand scheme of things? compared to the well-being and comfort of our precious girl, that is.” gojo nods in agreement, leaning down to press a kiss against your forehead.

you don’t respond, your expression gradually softening as the pain subsides and the warmth of their affection envelops you. the wrinkles near your forehead smooth out, and your breathing begins to slow as you start to drift off.

their playful banter fades into the background, replaced by the soothing sounds of their gentle presence. you let yourself succumb to the comfort and care they’re providing, allowing yourself to rest peacefully in their arms.

geto and gojo watch as you sink further into relaxation, your expression softening. they exchange a satisfied look, their faces reflecting relief and contentment.

gojo’s hand continues to stroke your hair, his touch gentle and rhythmic. “she’s finally relaxing,” he whispers quietly to geto.

geto nods, his hand rubbing slow circles on your stomach, careful not to disturb the heating pad. “yeah, good thing,” he replies softly. “looks like she's gonna get some much-needed sleep.” gojo adjusts himself slightly, settling more comfortably against the headboard while making sure to keep his arm draped around your shoulders.

“i guess we’re gonna be stuck here for a while,” he murmurs, a hint of amusement in his voice. geto gives a small chuckle, mimicking gojo's action and shifting as well, his hand remaining on your stomach.

“guess so,” he replies. “not that i'm complaining.”

silence falls over the room as both men allow the peaceful atmosphere to settle in. they remain there, their arms encircling you protectively, their gazes watching your sleeping form intently.

although the day had been cut short, they consider it a small price to pay to ensure your comfort and well-being. as long as you're resting and relaxed, they're satisfied.

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redr0sewrites · 5 months ago

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not possible - Viktor x reader

🥀A/n: this was originally a request but it strayed wayyy too far off course... the writing had a mind of its own and im not sorry. but i AM sorry for not posting in a while.... ive been super hyperfixated on DC sorry

🥀Cw: fluff, non-sexual nudity, bathing, exhaustion/overworking

🥀Word Count: 1.2k words

🥀Synopsis: Viktor is overworking yet again, yet upon your insistence, finally takes a break.

Viktor was well aware that the candle at his side had long since burnt out, yet he was unwilling to find a replacement. the moon was bright tonight, and, combined with the soft blue glow emitting from the hextech he was working on, Viktor could make out the tools in front of him without any assistance.

he knew that working in the dim light was not a good idea, considering how straining ones' eyes could lead to faulty vision, but he couldn't bring himself to care. the ache in his bones ran deep, and his fingers shook with each breath. of course Viktor knew he should turn in for the night, but he found himself stuck in his chair, mindlessly fiddling with his most recent hextech project.

he was so engrossed in his work, he barely noticed your approach until you were practically on top of him. familiar hands find purchase on his shoulders and he jumps, only to melt back into your touch.

"ah, it's you," Viktor murmurs, turning around to face you. "may i ask, what are you doing up so late?"

"collecting you," you murmur, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. "it's already two in the morning. you've been here long enough."

Viktor sighs, and allows you to press a few more kisses to his face. the bags beneath his eyes were heavy, he was stiff and sore, and above all, he was exhausted.

joining you back home was certainly enticing, and hextech could always wait until tomorrow. and yet, the troublesome, burning itch beneath his skin wouldn't dissipate. he needed to complete just one more ruin combination, just finish this one little task, and then he'd let himself rest. at least, that's what he'd been telling himself for the past three hours.

"i can tell your overworking yourself again," you whisper, and Viktor huffs indignantly.

"overworking is, eh, a strong word. i am perfectly capable-" you cut him off by cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you.

"Viktor, i am in no way denying your capabilities. however, you still need sleep. so, come back with me, and you can continue working tomorrow after a full nights rest. does that work?"

Viktor heaves another weary sigh, but agrees. you silently watch as he stands and steadies himself with his cane, not wanting to appear too overbearing but still concerned about his exhaustion. you wish you could alleviate some of the stress and burden that he carries, even though he relentlessly assured you that loving him was enough.

meanwhile, Viktor wordlessly packs up for the night. he knew you were trying to mask it for his own dignity, but the concern on your face was evident in the slightest furrow of your brow and pinch of your lips. he found it hopelessly endearing how you worried over him, and only wished that you would stop for your own sake.

after all, he was doing this for you. for the chance to live happily with you someday, after saving the lives of so many others. hextech consumed so much of his time, yet Viktor intended to make it up to you tenfold when you two would grow old together.

"you ready to head home?" your voice slices through his thoughts like a knife through warm butter, and he finds himself unable to do anything but nod. you did not hesitate to take his hand as you two walk back towards your shared abode, nor did you complain when he had to pause and catch his breath after some particularly bad pain in his leg. by the time you both arrived at your home, Viktor felt even more exhausted.

"i know it's late, but do you want to take a bath before going to bed?" your question lingers in the air for a few seconds before Viktor nods, and you begin setting up. you both know the warm water would only soothe his aching joints, and provide momentary relief from the pain he suffers from.

🥀

its not long before you and Viktor are curled against eachother in your large bathtub after washing off. he presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder as he absentmindedly washed your back, and you let out a relaxed sigh. you were both night-owls, but Viktor was much more accustomed to fighting off exhaustion.

you bite down on your bottom lip as more worries begin to seep into your mind. you feel almost selfish for missing him when he works so hard, and yet you want nothing more than to take all of his stress away. Viktor is quick to notice as you slip deeper in thought, between your tense muscles and quickened breathing, he can read you like a book.

"what are you thinking about, darling?"

another weary sigh escapes you.

"its just... you've been so stressed lately, i just wish i could alleviate some of the burdens you carry.. i know what you do is important, but i still wish i could be around you more often and help you.. y'know?" you let out another sigh. "i just.. miss you sometimes. and i worry. you know i worry.." Viktor chuckles at your words before turning you around to face him, the warm water around you both sloshing gently against the edge of the bath.

"you do more than enough already. believe me, everything i do, i do for you. for us. i love you," he murmurs, and presses a kiss to your forehead, "and nothing will change that. i can't guarantee that i'll always be around... but i will try to stop staying in the lab so late." Viktor's lips crinkle into a soft smile, and you can't help but kiss him in response.

Viktor always feels as though he's floating when you kiss. your soft lips against his, the contrast of his nimble, calloused hands against your smooth skin, your scent, your taste, it was all gloriously intoxicating. you hum against his lips before slowly pulling away, lashes fluttering against his cheek from your proximity.

Viktor leans in to whisper in your ear, his lips just ghosting your temple.

"i think it's high time we went to bed, dear. the waters getting cold, and i wouldn't want my beautiful darling to be exhausted tomorrow, hm?" you sigh at his flattery, yet agree regardless. as Viktor leans against the tub to stand up, you suddenly remember something and grab his hand to get his attention.

"hm?"

"by the way, about what you said earlier.... i love you more."

"that is not possible, my dearest."

GRRR SO HAPPY THIS IS DONE LMAO- sorry i havent been super active ive been on a huge DC kick (specifically the batfam/dick grayson) and suffering from writers block BUT HERE I AM AGAIN!!!!!!!!! ANYWAYS HOPE U ENJOYEDDDD PLS FEEL FREE TO SEND IN REQUESTS (esp dc... HEHE)

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revolutionary-relief · 9 months ago

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Neck Strain Relief: Understanding the Importance of Posture

Importance of Posture

We all know the feeling of neck strain after a long day hunched over a computer or slouched on the couch. Poor posture not only affects how we look but also plays a crucial role in causing neck strain. When we maintain good posture, our neck is better aligned, reducing the strain on the muscles and joints. This can lead to significant relief from neck pain and discomfort.

Effects of Poor Posture on Neck

Poor posture places unnecessary stress on the muscles of the neck and upper back, leading to tension and discomfort. When we slouch or crane our neck forward, the muscles must work harder to support the weight of the head. Over time, this can result in muscle fatigue, stiffness, and pain. By correcting our posture, we can alleviate this strain and prevent further damage to the neck muscles.

The Role of Posture in Prevention and Treatment

Maintaining good posture is essential for both preventing and having neck strain relief. By sitting and standing up straight, with the shoulders back and the head aligned over the spine, we can reduce the strain on our neck muscles. This alignment allows the muscles to work more efficiently, decreasing the risk of injury and promoting faster recovery from existing strain.

Tips for Improving Posture

Mindfulness: Be aware of your posture throughout the day and make a conscious effort to sit and stand up straight.

Ergonomics: Adjust your workspace to promote good posture, using ergonomic furniture and equipment.

Stretching: Incorporate regular stretching exercises into your daily routine to improve flexibility and reduce muscle tension.

Strength Training: Strengthening the muscles of the neck, shoulders, and back can help support proper posture and reduce strain.

Regular Breaks: Take frequent breaks from sitting or standing in one position to prevent muscle fatigue and stiffness.

Conclusion

Good posture is an essential factor in having neck strain relief. By maintaining proper alignment and supporting the muscles of the neck and upper back, we can reduce strain and discomfort, leading to improved overall neck health. By incorporating simple habits and exercises into our daily routine, we can achieve better posture and enjoy a life free from neck pain and tension.

#Neck Strain Relief #Stiff Neck Pain Relief #Alleviate Neck Pain #Relieve Stiff Neck #Treating Neck Stain

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silkjade · 7 months ago

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OF GOSSAMER THREADS

wriothesley x reader ⤀ synopsis: all this for a new set of clothes, wriothesley never imagined he’d be this sensitive while having his measurements taken… and so you offer a way to help him relax ⤀ cw: fem!reader, pet names (princess + girl), blowjob / oral (m. receiving), deepthroating, little bit of dacryphilia + corruption — mdni || ꒰ 2.5k wc ꒱ ⤀ notes: finally the fic version of this little thing i posted, that has actually been in my drafts for months

“Don’t tell me the duke’s never had his measurements taken before.” Your eyes flicker up from beneath thick lashes, a brow raised at the peculiarity of the situation: Wriothesley, the infamous warden who just about radiates confidence, stiff at the prospect of a simple fitting.

“Unfortunately, there aren't many special occasions that call for your services here at Palais Meropide.”

You hum in agreement, nonchalantly giving him a sharp tap tap to his toned bicep, as you circle around him, ducking out of his line of sight. he's right of course; the fortress doesn't often call for the services of a seamstress such as yourself, but it seems even its great duke must adhere to the rules of society events, whenever his nation so demands.

“Arms up,” you instruct, when he fails to respond to your simple gesture.

From behind, he feels the bite of cold air run through his self for the first time in a long while, as he flinches from the way your fingers dance like ice at the bared nape of his neck. Your tape measure stretches down the length of his spine until a perfectly manicured nail marks a hatch into the fabric ruler, pressing just the slightest bit into the dip at his back. He arches away from your touch, all but jolting in response.

It isn't you, per say, nor is it the process itself, but rather that dangerous combination of both. How you're so casually intimate with your ministrations, walking the line between close and closer, with nowhere else to stray. Touching him in places he had never imagined would be sensitive, and doing so without ever batting an eye.

Of course, as an employee of Chioriya Boutique, it's nothing new to you — nor is it anything out of the ordinary to the men and women you dress over at the court of Fontaine. But you cannot help but find amusement in how this rugged wolf of a man squirms beneath the lightest of touches.

Wriothesley stretches, rolling his shoulders to alleviate the unfamiliar soreness in his arms. Boxing, fighting—all of that he can do, easily and proficiently—yet his arms have never felt heavier than they do now, as he holds them out, so as not to obstruct your path. A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips, but you refocus onto the matter at hand, trading your tape for a pen as you quickly jot down the length of his back. Cute, you think.

He almost breathes a sigh of relief when you finally allow him to rest his arms, that is, until he sees you down on your knees, near-hugging his frame in order to grasp the measure of his hips.

“I've always heard the duke was a skilled boxer — didn't think this little session would be enough to do you in,” you say, in an attempt to lighten the mood, because it'd be near impossible to get accurate measurements the way he's tensing up all his muscles.

You glance up to check his reaction when he doesn't respond. Not that he isn't listening, but it's difficult to focus, difficult to breathe, when the sweet scent of your perfume—marcotte, he notes—sends him into overdrive, his brain directing all his senses to congregate at his crotch.

“Hey, relax,” you remind him, but his mind as already decided to wander astray. How can it not when you look up at him with those eyes, large and wide, and how he'd like to see them brimming with tears, perhaps with his cock in your—

He forcibly drags the thought out of his head, setting an iron foot down as he shakes away the apnea, exhaling with a low puff to his breath, and a light tint to his cheeks. “It's a bit easier said than done.”

He laughs it off, yet despite his smart remarks, Wriothesley clears his throat as if his voice hadn't near cracked at how your knuckles had brushed against the inside of his thigh while you were garnering its circumference; your phantom touch sending shivers to his skin, even through the fibers of his clothes. You hear him swallow down a grunt, and from the corner of your eye, you see the real issue now.

“Would it be easier if I helped with... this?” Manicured nails graze across the fabric covering his crotch, cheekily avoiding the obvious outline of his cock.

Wriothesley lets out a small chuckle, wondering if he's perhaps hallucinating at this stroke of luck? Fate? Whatever it is, who was he to deny what's come knocking at his door, especially as you're already taking steps to smooth back any loose hair from your face. He backs into his own desk and sits at the edge before gesturing with a wave of his hand and a lilt to his voice.

“By all means... ” so you undo the buckles at his belt — his pants and briefs quickly following suit, as you tug both remaining garments down, one after the other, before greeting his bulbous tip with a quick kiss hello.

Your thumb glosses over his slit, collecting beads of pre, as you run long strokes up and down his shaft. Strained, Wriothesley exhales through gritted teeth; you can feel him pulsing in your hands, throbbing with need. Your touch is searing — it burns like ice, crawling up his veins until his scattered thoughts are frozen in place, stuck on the ever persisting need to buck forward.

“Easy there, Your Grace,” you tease, heat accompanying your tongue with every lave around the underside of his cock. From his thick base to his leaking tip, the flat of your tongue traverses a wet path along the upward curve, before finally, you take him in the warm engulf of your mouth.

Wriothesley stifles a breath, tossing his head back as he leans into his desk, exhaling a soft grunt at the way you suckle on just his tip, tongue swirling as you wrap the head in a sweet caress, and take him just a little deeper. From your peripherals, you easily catch on to how his grip tightens around the edge of his desk — a reluctant companion to the slight, yet ever present tremble in his hips, daring him to break at the growing pleasure between his legs.

Sucking in your cheeks, you hollow them in until there’s nothing left to feel except the angry pulse of his cock in the wet maw of your mouth. You drag your lips slowy—tantalizingly so—off his cock, as if imprinting the feel of his veins onto your tongue, savoring the taste of his arousal before suctioning off with a nasty pop.

The air is immediately striking, an onslaught of sudden cold that sends his wet cock twitching in impatience. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were toying with him, but a single glance down only confirms the duke’s suspicions in that you absolutely are. Because oh how you so sweetly bat your doe eyes, looking up at him with anything but innocence, as delicate strands of saliva still connect your lips to his leaking cockhead, snapping as you force yourself to hold back the haughty little smile threatening to appear at how you’ve left the man equally flushed in face and cock.

Carefully, you rub along his slit until your fingers are curled around his girth, pumping his fat cock in a mix of spit and pre, kissing down his length while your free hand presses against his sensitive hipbone, your breath tickling his skin, as you take one of his balls in your mouth, suckling as if it were the sweetest of confections.

He grunts, bucking into your fist. Duke Wriothesley who has never had his measurements taken. Duke Wriothesley who perhaps has never been teased as so. Duke Wriothesley whose hand snakes its way to your chin, and with a slight jerk, tilts your gaze to the ice in his half-hearted glare.

“Hey,” he chides, “enough of that.” But his air of authority is tainted by the rasp in his voice, undermined by his own traitorous eyes that drift to the residue surrounding your lips. Oh, how terribly he'd like to see such a pretty, pristine thing tainted and stained by his touch... and so he runs his thumb over your bottom lip, dipping into the wet heat of your mouth, and subconsciously guiding you back onto his cock.

Any resolve left in the duke crumbles as you part those sinful lips, throat opening as you attempt to swallow him whole, and he sucks in a sharp breath, head thrown back as his fist races to smother his groans, teeth clinging to the skin of his knuckles.

You nurse his cock just a little bit deeper with every bob of your head, your palms—still slick with spit—pumping the length of all you cannot fit. His impressive size no doubt adds to the weight, your jaw falling slack just to fit his girth, but you persist, tongue swirling and painting and lapping up sloppy strokes all around. He rocks his hips, irregular and shallow, but it nonetheless has tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. you quickly blink them away, opting to refocus on holding down your gag reflex, rubbing your thighs together as a distraction and nurturing your own wetness that accumulates in between.

A moan rises from the back of your throat, the vibrations pulsing and weaving around him like silk threads, cocooning him in a pleasure that you can so clearly feel from the way he throbs on your tongue, which so desperately tries to maneuver around his shaft until he caves to the tightness — too warm, too welcoming, for him to resist any further.

And so by no will of his own, his hips jerk.

The impact makes you choke, convulsing around him as the force of his thrust sneaks him a little further down your throat. Spittle leaks from the corners of your mouth while you do your best to swallow all you can, but the sting of tears immediately returns to haunt your visage, this time successfully leaving a number of streaky trails in its wake.

You send him a weak half-glare, but Wriothesley only stutters out a weak apology before his sharp eyes are drawn to the subtle movement of your hips and thighs, and of how your knees readjust in search of any friction that might serve as an alleviant to the cock knocking at the back of your throat. Even so, the whine vibrating around his cock begs for attention back to your pretty face.

Beneath gossamer lashes, your eyes glisten with the promise of more tears; playful embers now vaporized by the saturated lull of lust, that he hates to admit thrills him. You, who had arrived at the fortress like an overworld princess; so prim and pretty, with the heels of your shoes click-clacking throughout his metal abode. Your fashionable attire, so perfectly ironed and flouncing along with every step…

But where is your composure now, as you kneel before him, with his dick in your mouth?

He smoothes a hand along the top of your head before stopping at the crown. You can feel the tangible twitch of his cockhead, and you whimper in nervous anticipation, because you already know what's to come.

“You can take more than that,” he rasps, challenging you, all the while tilting your head down just a little further. “Almost there, princess... relax. Just a little more...”

His sweet words loosen your nerves, opening your throat to the realization that somehow, you must have relinquished control over to the duke, handing him the reigns as you let him pull you down, down over that last stretch of his length, bit by bit until the tip of your nose finally presses into the thatch of dark curls at his hilt. You flutter and squeeze around him, drool trickling down your chin as you splutter and gag.

And gracious as he is, Wriothesley grants you a moment to breathe, through your nose, of course, if the large hand still weighing atop your head was any indication. He stretches a thumb over, gently brushing away a piece of hair fallen loose onto your face.

You really are so pretty — resting parallel to his balls, looking up at him with dew on your lashes and water in your eyes, lips pooling with spit at where you’re stretched around his base. he pulls out a little, throbbing with the desire to fuck and ruin… but slowly, he grinds himself back in, tapping the back of your sputtering throat every time he runs a pass along the palate of your tongue.

Wriothesley throws his head back, groaning loud and raw through his teeth. You feel so good; so hot it makes his blood run cold, so tight it has him coming undone. and he’s so close. You can both feel it.

You moan again, despite the struggle to do so while his tip remains busy fucking your throat. Behind his thighs, you dig your fingers into his bare flesh, bobbing along, hugging him even closer because after all, it was you who had offered to help with his problem, and it’ll be you who sees him through to the end.

“Dirty girl,” he breathes, wholly impressed at how you take him like a sleeve, rolling along with his movements, and leaving him to shudder so close to completion. His face twists with pleasure, fingers tightening in your hair when he feels that pleasantly familiar barrage of tremors bubbling from your throat.

The wet sound of skin and spit rings in your ears. Dirty. Yes, that’s exactly what this was. To think you’ve never felt so sloppy and messy, gagging on cock, much less one like his… and yet… you think you love this. That, or you must be dizzy off delirium because his words have heat rushing to your cheeks and your cunt, stifling another choked moan that reverberates through the entirety of his shaft.

When he cums, he cums in your mouth, spilling in spurts with no restraint — and you swallow as best you can, as much as you can, really. Still, he continues to rock his softening cock 'til the end of this high, savoring the last remnants of your sweet lips before you slowly pull off.

That first breath of real air is sweet, even amidst the iron-tainted walls of Meropide, though you're apt to remember that even too harsh a breath would send your battered throat into a fit of coughs. You slump down to your heels, panting softly, entirely too aware of your current predicament, as you run a thumb across the tip of your chin, slimy with your combined fluids. It's sloppy, dirty, and oh how you're forced to swallow your own spit, when your clit pulses in rebellion.

Above you, Wriothesley chuckles, kneeling down to your level, yet still broad enough for his back to cover the dim light of his office, tall enough that he must tilt your head to catch those lovely eyes in his wolfish gaze again. He pulls a handkerchief from his breast pocket, wipes the mess from your lips until you're prim and pretty and perfect, ready to be unravelled once again.

“Shall I return the favor?”

notes2: my first (and probably last) time writing a blowjob so i hope it was ok lolz this is so embarrassing so i’m posting n fleeing anywayz tysm for reading as always, and reblogs+feedback are very much appreciated ♡

#— 𝓼𝓲𝓰𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓙. ༯ #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader smut #genshin x reader #genshin x reader smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin thirsts #wriothesley x you #genshin x you

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collaredsoldat · 26 days ago

Text

Condition.

summary: Soldat refuses to sit down, you notice he's in pain.

a/n: I saw someone caught one of the things I wrote earlier in hcs and I knew at some point I was going to delve deeper into it. So that's the push I needed. This one is potentially triggering thus no tags have been added to this post. Unedited; I have so may wips rn, I will check for mistakes later. ;; wc: 4.4k

You weren't too sure what the problem was.

Soldat didn't like to sit down. You thought maybe it was because he felt like he had to be on guard at all times, fresh out of HYDRA and paranoid the agents would somehow find his whereabouts, then forcibly break down your door and tear him away from your apartment that he deemed safe enough.

You noticed a pattern in Soldat's actions whenever he did reluctantly lower himself into a seated position. With each attempt, you saw a subtle but unmistakable wince or a barely audible hiss escaping through his clenched teeth, betraying his discomfort. These seated interludes were invariably brief, lasting a few seconds before he would abruptly rise to his feet once more.

The simple act of lowering himself onto a chair seemed to require an immense effort, though he tried desperately to conceal his discomfort behind a façade of indifference. The careful dance of pain that displayed anytime he attempted to lower himself down on the ground, or apply any pressure at all to his backside, shot up his spine and made him think twice.

On occasion, you noticed him favoring one side of his body as he sat, shifting his weight in what appeared to be an attempt to alleviate some hidden source of pain. But, more often than not, Soldat opted to forgo sitting entirely, preferring to maintain a standing posture that allowed for a quick reaction to any perceived threat.

It had only been a few days.

He maintained his resolute silence, stubbornly refusing to utter a single word. The only exception had been a barely audible thank you in Russian after you had carefully and gently bathed him. His demeanor remained guarded and defensive, occasionally punctuated by sharp, guttural exclamations of 'Нет' whenever you approached too closely. His words were replaced by growling and baring his teeth as if that were somehow off putting enough. He reacted as though you posed an imminent threat, despite your efforts to appear non-threatening and helpful.

You couldn’t really blame him, at the end of the day. His body bore the signs of telltale abuse and mistreatment for god knows how long.

As the days slowly passed, you grew increasingly concerned about his deteriorating condition. The pain etched across his features seemed to intensify with each passing hour, and you really wanted to confront him about his condition. He stayed in the spare room, his weary frame silhouetted against the window and sheer curtains guarding the glass. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion but remained vigilant, constantly scanning the darkened streets below.

Sleep had become a luxury he could ill afford, severe conditioning and sleep deprivation made it almost impossible for him to fall asleep naturally unless he completely collapsed from exhaustion. His paranoia and discomfort didn’t help his need to rest. The toll of his sleepless nights was clearly visible in the dark circles under his eyes and the slight tremor in his hand as he maintained his ceaseless vigil.

"Soldat..." You spoke gently, not wanting to startle him. Despite your cautious approach, your tone didn't have the desired effect. He still flinched visibly when you called his name, his body tensing as if bracing for impact. He turned to face you, his movements stiff and guarded, his eyes wary as the soldier watched you.

"It's okay, I just came to see you," you reassured him, your voice soft and soothing. You paused for a brief moment, allowing your words to sink in, before continuing with soft concern, "Are you doing okay? Are you in any pain?" As you spoke, you took a tentative step into the room, slow and deliberate to avoid frightening him further.

Soldat's reaction was immediate and instinctive to your step. He took one step back in response to your advance, his body language screaming discomfort and distrust. However, his retreat was cut short as his shoulder made contact with the cold, unyielding surface of the wall behind him. The realization that he had nowhere left to go flashed across his face, a fleeting expression of panic quickly masked by a forced blank stare. He stood there, cornered and tense, like a wounded animal trapped with no escape route.

You knew better than to approach too quickly. Experience had taught you that if he felt cornered or threatened in any way, he'd lash out instinctively. Although he hadn't physically harmed you before, you were aware of his potential to do so. He was a goddamn super soldier, and you were just a civilian. He could snap your neck with one arm. The tension in the air grew and you could sense his unease increasing with each passing moment.

"It's okay, I promise..." You slowly raised your hands, palms outward, trying to placate him. You were very cautious with your actions, designed to show him that you harbored no ill intent. You maybe hoped he’d recognize you were harmless, but understood why he still felt wariness in himself. You remained rooted to the spot where you stood, consciously avoiding any sudden movements that might startle him or exacerbate the fear you had inadvertently stirred. "I just want to see how you're handling yourself... you seem to be in pain, and I want to help. That's all I'm here for, nothing more."

You paused, carefully observing his body language. His already stiff posture became increasingly rigid as he pressed his back firmly against the wall. It was as if he was trying to conceal something from your view or instinctively protect an injury. His wince was unmistakable even in the dark room, as clear as a beacon in the night. Your ears picked up the sharp, hissing intake of breath when he inadvertently applied too much pressure to his backside. The sound was a clear indicator of his discomfort, and it only reinforced your concern.

"Please...Soldat, let me have a look at you?" You whispered softly, your voice barely audible in the tense atmosphere. Your heart ached with the desire to ease his suffering, to offer a gentle touch that might soothe his pain or provide the comfort he had been robbed from. You yearned for his trust, to create a haven where he could lower his defenses and find solace in your presence instead of constantly feeling so anxious and alone.

The air between you grew thick with anticipation, punctuated only by the shallow, measured breaths you both took. In the depths of his eyes, you could see the internal struggle unfolding—a battle between ingrained wariness and the desperate need and hope for comfort. Time seemed to stretch as he weighed his options, his body still rigid with uncertainty. Finally, after several long minutes, a subtle shift occurred in his demeanor.

Slowly, he began to peel himself away from the wall that had been his refuge. His body language was tinged with nervousness, his gaze never left you as he inched forward, scrutinizing your every breath, every twitch, as if anticipating a sudden betrayal. The distance between you diminished gradually until he came to a halt by the edge of the bed, his posture still coiled with tension, ready to retreat at the slightest provocation.

"There we are...good job," you offered gentle words of encouragement, mirroring the approach you had taken during his bathing session. The positive reinforcement had proven effective then, so you decided to employ the same strategy in this situation. "I can see you're in pain. Could you point to where it hurts?" You inquired softly, fully aware that he might not respond verbally given his usual restraint from speaking.

For a brief period, he remained completely still, his body language giving no indication of his thoughts. Then he shifted his posture, turning in such a way that his back was now fully exposed to your view. However, without the aid of words, the gesture alone didn't provide much clarity. The area of discomfort could be anywhere along his spine or surrounding muscles. "Is it your back that's causing you pain?" You asked, hoping for a more specific response.

He shook his head slightly, a subtle movement that nonetheless clearly conveyed a negative answer.

"Okay…is it your legs that are hurting?" You ventured, this query elicited a slight shrug from him, a gesture that hinted at possible agreement but still left room for uncertainty. You found yourself at a loss, unsure of how to proceed or phrase your next question in a way that would yield more precise information. After a moment's hesitation, you decided to be more direct in your approach, hoping it wasn't what you thought, but part of you knew deep down that it probably was. "You don't sit down very often. Is there some discomfort in your bottom?"

He almost made a scoff, his brow furrowing slightly at the unfamiliar sound. The concept of shyness was foreign to him, it contrasted to the harsh commands he was accustomed to hearing, vulgarity being barked at him about his body and how he looked. Soldat's eyes, initially narrowing with a hint of suspicion, quickly softened as he processed your tone. His gaze met yours, and he offered a gentle yet subtle nod. You noticed a flicker of discomfort cross his features, leaving you puzzled about the source of his pain. Hesitantly, you spoke again, "Can I see?"

He bristled instantly, a cocktail of emotions surging through him. Vulnerability and aggression warred within, his muscles tensing as if preparing for a fight. He had to remind himself that this was you standing before him, not them - not the towering figures from his past. You weren't one of the men who had loomed over him, using their size to intimidate and control. You weren't here to pin him down or force his compliance. Instead, you were asking for permission. The concept was so foreign, so at odds with everything he knew, that it almost felt like a trap. The idea that he might have any sort of autonomy, any say in what happened to his own body was terrifying.

Your simple act of requesting permission sent his mind reeling. It stirred up a maelstrom of conflicting instincts within him. Part of him yearned to seize this newfound agency, to exert control over his own choices. Yet another part, deeply ingrained and conditioned by years of abuse, screamed at him to flee. The mere possibility of having a choice was so overwhelming that it almost made him want to turn tail and run, to retreat to the familiar confines of obedience and subservience.

After a moment of internal struggle, he made a decision. He shifted closer to you.

His body language was a mix of caution and tentative trust as he allowed you to examine him. He was clad in the clothes you had provided, a simple black tank top and a pair of comfortable sweatpants. It wasn’t much, by any standards, but when he arrived at your home you had no men’s clothes at all. You hastily had to buy him an outfit of some kind. At least these clothes were stretchy, he hadn’t even told you his size.

His old uniform had been in a state of utter disrepair - torn, filthy, and reeking of neglect. You recalled the arduous process of attempting to salvage it, for whatever reason. The washing machine had groaned and protested, nearly breaking down after a single cycle as it battled against the ingrained grime and wear.

You delicately hooked your fingers into the elastic waistband of his sweatpants, slowly and cautiously tugging them down his thighs. This was different from when you had bathed him earlier; at that time, you hadn't been able to get a proper look at his condition. The warm water from the bath had caused his skin to flush, making any injuries blend seamlessly with the reddened areas. You hadn’t really looked at his lower areas either, your primary concern then had been to cleanse him thoroughly, rather than to scrutinize his body for signs of harm.

As the sweatpants descended to his knees, your eyes widened in shock, taking in the full extent of the damage. Angry welts and livid red lashes crisscrossed the backs of his thighs, creating a horrifying tapestry of abuse. The marks were severely inflamed, with some sporting small, beaded clots of blood that were desperately trying to peek through the swollen skin in an attempt to heal the split flesh. The pattern and severity of the injuries suggested that he had been repeatedly struck with a stick or a similar rigid object, each blow leaving its cruel imprint on his tender skin.

Your gaze followed the trail of lashes as they disappeared beneath the hem of his boxers, leading you to the realization that his buttocks likely bore the brunt of this vicious assault, explaining his evident discomfort and aversion to applying any sort of pressure to that area.

Steeling yourself for what you might find, you reached up to carefully peel down his boxers. As you did so, you offered him words of gentle reassurance, trying to comfort him since this was an extremely vulnerable position. "I'm just gonna take a look, okay?" you murmured soothingly as you slowly shimmied the underwear down to join the sweatpants at his knees, careful not to irritate his welts. Your suspicions were confirmed as the fabric fell away, revealing the full extent of the damage.

His buttocks were covered in a dense network of welts and bruises, the marks here even more numerous and severe than those on his thighs. Bruising painted his backside in various shades of purple, blue, and black, with the deepest bruises appearing almost pitch against his pale skin. The sight was enough to make your stomach churn, a mix of sympathy and anger rising within you at the thought of the pain he must be enduring.

Your gaze was drawn to the sight of dried blood on his inner thighs, your brow furrowing as you looked at the obvious bleeding that had been occurring. Without thinking, you instinctively reached out to get a closer look at the area, wondering if there was an open wound he had been concealing. You didn’t want him to have an infection, especially in that tender spot. Your hand gently caressed his cheek, gently trying to spread him to look.

Soldat's reaction to your sudden touch was immediate and he turned away from you, his movements awkward and uncoordinated due to his pants still being bunched around his knees. His eyes were wide with fear and anger, locked onto you as he glared fiercely.

"Не трогай меня!" He snapped, his voice sharp and filled with warning. The Russian words hung in the air between you as he stood rigidly, facing you with a defensive posture.

For a second, you were sure he was going to lash out at you physically with the way he postured up. But you realized that beneath the aggressive front he was putting on, fear was the dominant emotion. He continued to back away from you, his movements jerky and uncoordinated because of the way his pants were around his legs.

As he backed away, his knees collided with the edge of the mattress behind him. The impact caused him to lose balance, and he fell awkwardly into a seated position on the bed. The moment he made contact with the mattress, a sharp, pained sound escaped his lips, wincing as his face contorting in a grimace that showed the intense discomfort he felt from sitting. The force of his body weight had him sit harder than normal, the collision with the bed felt like he had fallen on his ass on the floor.

Almost as quickly as he sat, he struggled to his feet once more. His leg muscles flexed as he jerked himself upward, the sudden movement seemed to intensify his pain and you could see his knees trembling, threatening to give way beneath him. The agony that shot through his body was evident in every line of his face and every quiver of his muscles. He reached out and gripped the edge of the bed, trying to keep himself upright and not fall down to his knees.

Your heart ached seeing him so scared and hurt, especially in this sick way. You took a step forward, your hand held out as you cooed at him. "Soldat, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have touched without telling you. But you're bleeding, I just wanted to see where it was coming from, that's all." You attempted to explain your innocent reasoning, but he felt so much anxiety at the moment, he didn't trust you to just look. Those wild eyes made contact with yours, a look that told you to back off.

So you did. You didn't want to freak him out any more than he was right now.

His trembling legs felt uncontrollable, finally betraying him as he slowly collapsed to the floor, crumbling like a wilting flower. He surrendered to the soft embrace of the plush carpet beneath him, settling down on his side. He carefully curled into a tight ball, desperately trying to ignore the searing, relentless pain that radiated from his ass. The intensity of the sensation was overwhelming now that he had stimulated the pain by his accidental sit, causing him to retreat further into himself. It didn't help that memories were flooding his vision, he just saw boots surrounding him and vicious words being spat at him.

You observed his distress from a distance, recognizing the need for space in this. You made the decision to quietly exit the room, allowing him the solitude he seemed to desperately cling to. Attempting to intervene or offer comfort at this time would likely prove counterproductive, pushing too hard or too soon would only serve to exacerbate the situation, potentially causing him to withdraw even further. You wanted him to trust you so badly, but that meant patience was your best friend, and you required it for this delicate situation.

From what you had seen, your mind wandered to possible causes. You knew of the beating and relentless torture he faced, for whatever reason the idea of sexual assault hadn't crossed your mind until now. However...the blood trickling down his inner thigh felt like a slap in the face at your ignorance.

Of course they would do that. HYDRA was full of sick degenerates that were hungry for taboo and inhumane activities. The men in charge got away with everything, and being an asset in HYDRA was less than being a pet, a mere toy for pleasure and consumption. Soldat was basically just a doll for them to puppet around and fuck with.

After several long minutes had passed, you made your way back to the room. Soldat was still curled up tightly on the floor, his arms wrapped protectively around his face and his knees drawn up close to his chest. The poor soldier looked so pitiful as he curled into a small ball like that, as if he were shielding himself from an impending threat. Your heart ached at the sight, deep-seated fear must have driven him to such a defensive position.

You approached him.

Your feet moved silently across the plush carpet of the room, each step measured and deliberate so as not to startle him. As you drew closer, you lowered yourself to the ground, settling a few feet away from his huddled form. You wanted to be near enough to offer comfort, but far enough to give him the space he clearly needed.

"Soldat..." Your voice was barely above a whisper, soft and soothing to keep his frayed nerves calm. "Do you want me to help you clean up? I promise, I won't do anything you're not comfortable with. I'm not... I'm nothing like those bastards who hurt you." The last words came out with a hint of venom, your disgust for those who had mistreated him evident in your tone.

There was a moment of tense silence before Soldat eventually responded. He hesitantly lifted his head, the sight of his face made your heart clench. His face was flushed a deep red with random blotches, his eyes were glossier than you had ever seen them, brimming with unshed tears. The vulnerability in his gaze was almost unbearable to look at, making your chest feel tighter with each breath. You watched as he visibly swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing with the motion. His head inclined ever so slightly in what you interpreted as a nod of agreement.

Encouraged by his response, you continued in the same gentle tone, "I promise you, it'll help those welts feel better. Bit of cool water and some ointment will soothe the pain and help the inflammation." You paused, talking as if you were speaking to a frightened animal or scared child. "And I really need to make sure you don't have any tears or excessive bleeding down there. That could lead to infections or other bad things that will require more serious care, and I don't want your condition to worsen. I swear I'll be as gentle as possible."

A beat.

Then two.

Then three.

Soldat gave you another slow nod, just enough for you to notice his compliance. "I'm going to go grab some things, I'll be right back." You went to the bathroom where you kept a first aid kit, not really sure what you needed, but it contained some gels and ointments that you knew would at least soothe the swelling skin.

You carefully settled yourself beside him and reached for a bottle of soothing ointment, it was typically used for burns but equally effective for welts. The cool, smooth glass of the bottle felt reassuring in your palm as you unscrewed the cap. You squeezed a generous amount onto your fingertips, the translucent gel glistening and cooling your fingers already.

You lowered your hand to his ass, your fingers ghosting over his skin before making full contact. You tenderly began to spread the healing substance over one of his cheeks, ensuring every affected area was covered. You made sure not to press too hard, and to get it down his thighs too.

At the initial contact, his body tensed involuntarily. The sudden coolness of the gel against his heated skin elicited a sharp intake of breath, followed by a long, shuddering exhale. His mind reeled, struggling to process this new sensation. He never experienced the soothing balm of pain relief; it was an alien concept to him.

Throughout his time in HYDRA, he had been conditioned to endure, to bear the full brunt of every punishment, every ache, every sting. The mantra that had been drilled into him echoed in his mind: pain was the sculptor of his being, the unyielding order he was meant to follow. It was through suffering, they said, that he would be molded into their ideal.

And so, he had taken it all - every lash, every blow, every tormenting penetration they forced onto him. The pain had been relentless, a constant companion that he had learned to expect and accept, no matter how intense or unbearable it became.

But right now, things were different. For the first time in decades, the familiar sting of pain was gradually being replaced by a soothing coolness that spread across his skin. The sensation was so different, of relief, of comfort, of care. The contrast between what he had always known and what he was now feeling was stark and overwhelming, almost triggering him to react and wipe it away, to feel that horrible pain once again. He at least knew who he was, who he was supposed to be with the pain accompanying him like his shadow. Without it, the sliver of knowledge of his being was gone.

"Most of the lashes are already clotted to heal so...there's no need to bandage them." You spoke calmly, satisfied with the ointment being spread on him. "But I will wipe away the bit of blood from between your legs, okay?"

Soldat, still reeling from the memories plaguing his mind, somehow understood your words and gave a tentative nod.

He felt the warm, damp cloth gently press against his sensitive inner thigh, the soothing heat gradually softening the dried, crusted blood. With each careful stroke, you cleaned away the remnants of his ordeal. Even after it had long been over, his body carried the wounds of it, reminding him of the painful experiences. Your touch was tender, as if you were handling something precious and fragile. The level of care you were showing him left him with feelings he couldn't quite decipher. He struggled to understand and accept your gentle treatment with his own self-perception. You approached him with a kindness and respect typically reserved for fellow human beings, a category he had long since excluded himself from.

He was a machine.

He was a toy.

He was HYDRA’s fist.

He was not a person.

You delicately cleansed between the affected areas, ensuring no trace of blood remained. Your movements were slow and deliberate as you navigated around the swollen, tender flesh, careful with the area since you knew it was very intimate and you didn’t want him to feel like he were being threatened. After all the blood was washed away, you applied a cooling balm specifically formulated to alleviate inflammation and discomfort in that sensitive region.

"There we go...all done," you murmured softly. Your hand was so warm and comforting, trailed along his back in a gesture of reassurance. To your surprise, he didn't flinch or pull away from your touch, a small victory in itself considering he would with any other kind of physical gesture. Mustering his strength, he pushed himself up onto his elbows, twisting slightly to survey the damage inflicted upon his body.

Soldat turned away as quickly as he saw it, his mouth contorting into a pained grimace. The soldier couldn't bear to look anymore, his mind reeling from the vivid memories that assaulted him.

He felt the phantom strikes of various implements of torture - the sharp sting of canes and crops swinging down against his ass.

The bruising impact of hands and boots, the searing pain of teeth sinking into his abused flesh, and the cruel bite of leather belts. He especially hated when the buckle hit his groin.

These ghostly sensations, etched deep into his psyche, haunting him with the horrors he endured, making him flinch involuntarily as if the torment was happening all over again.

"It's okay." You whispered, "You are safe now." Your hand rubbed circles on his back, you'd keep this in mind, this kind of assault he endured. It was complicate things in the future, but for now all you cared about was his comfortability. You continued to whisper comforting things, pulling a blanket over him that had been on the floor by his makeshift bed. You draped it over his backside, covering him and giving him some kind of security with feeling covered up.

For the first time, he seemed to be accepting your touch without reservations, as you felt the soldier's back muscles relax under your palm.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images found on Pinterest

#bucky barnes #winter soldier #the winter soldier #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier x reader #the winder soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #the winter soldier x you #captain america the winter soldier #catws #bucky barnes angst #blythewrites⛓

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