#barely a fic this baby is 751 words long

[layraket]

@uniquevoidflowers

its been a while since i did smth whumpy.

ok so at first yes this was just going to be the drawing but some kind of ghost possessed me and now there are also words. so. enjoy the whump. (check the tags for warnings. not that graphic. i think. i wrote this in like 30 min. there's spoilers tho.)

‘Let’s go explore a little!’ he said. ‘It will be fun!’ he said.

This was far from fun. In fact, Legend was having zero fun.

Hyrule, sweet and friendly and kind of a dick but still his dear brother, wanted to explore a little around while the others prepared camp and invited him. Sure, letting the others to do all the work sounds good, but the veteran put the condition that they first will help around and then they could go for a walk.

Wild wanted to come with them too, but he was stopped by the rancher reminding him that they were out of pre-cooked food and needed to make dinner. Next time will it be Champion, sorry.

With that established both heroes leaved with Time telling them to be careful. The sound of chatter faded when they went deeper into the forest, and their own conversation went freely.

“Believe me! Octoroks are really annoying, they’re the worst” Hyrule complained, laughing lightly and bringing his hands up to exaggerate his frustration.

“Just a good shield and you can deflect their attacks? They’re not that thought” Legend counters, octoroks were just some silly octopus looking monsters, he was sure that they were food for some zora.

They kept bickering about this for a while, the calm ambient of the forest interrupted just by their presence and chatter.

Until there was a growl, and chaos started.

Legend was angry. Not at Hyrule, never him, he just wanted to walk and satisfy his instincts. He was angry at the moblin that decided to come pay a visit together with some bokos. They already finished with that camp! Why are there still monsters in this part of the forest?!

Never mind the implications of that, one of Hyrule’s moblins and Wild’s bokoblins were more important to deal with right now.

The bokoblins weren’t that big of a problem, two were black blooded, but they already were able to deal with them with ease now that they were used to their strength. The moblin is another story.

This one was faster, not like the one that was Time’s who was just overpowered. There was clearly more intelligence behind those eyes.

Its spears were precise, leaving Legend with some cuts on his face and one on his side.

“We need backup!” They couldn’t keep this for long, Legend’s joints were already aching from the little rest that he got after clearing that camp earlier.

He saw a fireball hit the moblin’s back, making it turn towards Hyrule with a snarl.

An idea came to his mind “Hyrule! Go to camp and call for the others, I’ll distract it! Fast!”

When a soft green light appeared in the traveler’s eyes gave Legend the confirmation that Hyrule knew what he was suggesting.

The veteran shot an arrow to the moblin making it turn back to him, giving Hyrule time to turn to his faerie form.

He saw the flicker of green light go behind the moblin, a soft bell-like sound being a contrast with the snarls of the monster.

Legend moved with his ice rod towards the moblin, ready to freeze it so they could have time so the others could arrive.

When he was about to use the magic item, a so-painfully-familiar sound of a bell was heard, loud and sudden.

The moblin obviously had noticed the bright green ball of light getting away, the one that just by mere bad luck was too close.

Two small wings, still small and young for a fairy, were coming out from the moblin’s fist, a green-ish blue liquid mixed with red dripping out of it to the floor.

There was a scream, if Legend wasn’t alone there he would have said that it came from someone else. His hand reached for his collar, grabbing one of the medallions and directing all his magic to it.

The ether medallion did its work, the moblin being hit with a powerful blast of electricity, the smell of burnt meat filling the area.

When the bastard didn’t move anymore he walked towards it, the wound on his side soaking his tunic and turning it a deeper shade of red, the color slowly spreading.

Legend looked at the hand of the monster, a little looser and letting see a little of what it had inside.

He wanted to throw up.

Bile didn’t come up his throat, the only thing coming out of it was a scream.

He shouldn’t have suggested this. He killed him.

[foli-vora]

I posted 2,297 times in 2022

That's 994 more posts than 2021!

722 posts created (31%)

1,575 posts reblogged (69%)

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I tagged 2,127 of my posts in 2022

Only 7% of my posts had no tags

#comment reply - 751 posts

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#hold me down - 30 posts

#run to you - 23 posts

Longest Tag: 127 characters

#he really does look like that childhood best friend who stays in your small country town while you go off to school or whatever

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

greatest love of all

A/N: Heart crushing softness I half wrote while in hospital after having mini and felt gooey enough to finish today. 

Summary: Post birth softness with Frankie.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: brief swearing, heavy talk of birth & babies, sweet soft fluff, Frankie deserves the fucking world ok????

A brief note: I know healthcare varies around the world when it comes to giving birth, but I’ve written this based on my experiences in Australia so will be different to what is typical in the US and whatnot.

----------

“You’re incredible.”

You breathe a sleepy chuckle, eyes fluttering in exhaustion as you melt into the pillows supporting your back. The hand dancing along your hairline in soothing motions moves down your cheek, rough fingertips tracing over your skin until they finish at your chin, pinching it softly as lips ghost over yours.

A small noise of protest cuts through the moment of peace and your eyes open immediately, automatically falling to the small face creased and nuzzled into your bare chest.

Frankie laughs quietly, lips moving from yours to press tenderly into the flattened dark locks still damp from her arrival.

“Yes, and you, too.” He whispers, hand seeming so large in comparison to your daughter’s head as he caresses her gently.

It hadn’t been easy, and he could feel it now still, a slight tremble in his bones—true, sharp panic in the very core of him, burning through his gut and bringing out a long forgotten feeling pushed down by vigorous training and missions.

He thought he’d be okay. He knew everything about labour. He had been present for all the classes, he’d googled every little thing and read every book you had borrowed from the library. He’d felt stress before - he’d seen some heavy shit in the past, but this? Your obvious pain had pierced his very soul. It had crippled him, wrapped it’s horrific hands around his throat and squeezed until he couldn’t breathe, choking on each word as he tried to coax you into breathing better yourself.

The way you had cried out, the way you thrashed and arched and screamed… and yet, you still had the energy to smile, to laugh, giddy and practically aglow as a little squirming body was guided and pressed into your chest. Suddenly it’s like all of the pain and the tears and the suffering of the last twenty six hours had evaporated, leaving nothing but peace in your features, sweat still licking at your skin but tranquillity radiating from your pores.

He wishes you would share a bit.

He needs a cigarette. Or five.

“How are you feeling?”

He doesn’t know why he’s speaking so quietly. It’s not like the room is silent. Short alarms of various meanings sound out in the hallways beyond the closed door, machines beep and pagers sound out. The midwives move about freely chatting amongst themselves, cleaning away the bloodied sheets and checking your blood loss with calm, easy smiles every so often. They stay out of the way for the most part, content to let you both enjoy the new life cradled gently in your arms and give you time to breathe in the feeling of her skin on yours, so new and fresh and warm. It’s a good thing for you, he had learnt in his studies… this ’skin-to-skin’ thing. They’re right. You glow. He watches on with a whole fucking galaxy shining in his eyes. 

“I’m okay.” You answer after a beat with a sleepily wide smile, and he doesn’t know how you do it.

“You’re a goddamn machine.” He comments while running an anxious hand through his hair, truth hanging onto every word. “I was about to fucking pass out.”

Your body heaves with your laugh, your hand moving from the baby to trace along his jaw softly. He nuzzles into your touch, moustache tickling your skin. “Thank god you didn’t - the guys would never let you live that down.”

He grunts in agreement, breaking into a small grin before burying his face in your shoulder and breathing you in.

“Are you okay?” He can’t help but worry. “Really?”

You barely hear him with his face pressed so tightly against you. The birth had been a blur, but you do remember the pure panic shining in his eyes when you had looked up at him with the comforting coaxes of the midwives to breathe ringing in your ears, you had felt the tremble in his hold, you had seen the build of terrified tears when you cried that you couldn’t do it anymore.

You turn your head to press a series of gentle kisses into his hat flattened curls. 

“Look at me,” you breathe, waiting until he pulls a few inches away to speak, “I’m okay, baby.”

His pupils flicker between your eyes, searching the very depths of them for even the slightest trace of a lie. He breathes a quiet sigh of relief when he finds none, swallowing the last remaining trembles down before looking at his daughter, lips twitching at the puckered angry face frowning at the brightness of the room.

“She looks like a potato.” You mutter, finger tracing her little nose.

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1,094 notes - Posted January 4, 2022

#4

seeping into my senses

matt murdock x f!reader

a/n: that fucking gif holy jesus. um this is filthy and completely out of nowhere, i apologise.

word count: just over 1.6k

warnings: swearing, SMUT 18+ ONLY, masturbation (both f & m), using saliva as lube, praise kink, cum eating, the utter vision that is Matthew Murdock jerking off

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1,186 notes - Posted August 31, 2022

#3

these are the nights

matt murdock x f!reader

A/N: I yearn for this man. Anyways it’s 4am and I’ve been working on this all night so there may be mistakes my sleepy brain missed lmao. Enjoy!

Summary: A bit of love and some shower sex.

Word count: just over 3k

Warnings: fluff, soft domesticity with a vigilante, swearing, mentions of violence, SMUTTTT 18+ ONLY shower sex, unprotected p in v, somewhat of a sub!Matt, he’s needy, creampie, cum eating, oral (f receiving).

-

You’re awake when he eventually comes home, curled on the couch and underneath a blanket with a new book, a mug of cooled hot chocolate long forgotten on the coffee table. You don’t even hear him to begin with, not until the sudden blow of hot breath fans across your cheek and a quiet ‘why are you awake’ sinks into your ear.

The book slips from your hands when you startle, whipping to the side and nearly off the couch completely had it not been for the gloved hand that quickly wraps around your arm and steadies you.

Matt smiles, lips curling deviously beneath the edge of his mask and you exhale sharply, fighting the own upward twist of your lips as you slap at his hold, heart thundering away in your chest.

“Damn it, Matty. You scared the shit out of me!” You scold lightly, unable to stop the growth of a smile as he leans down to seek out your lips. “How was your night?”

“Quiet.” He hums against your mouth, kissing you softly and licking away the lingering traces of hot chocolate from your lips with a low noise of appreciation. “Yours?”

“The same.” You breathe, a pleasant buzz of warmth settling in your stomach with the more his lips press insistently against your own. You ignore the faint thud of your book hitting the floor as you shift on the couch, turning and coming onto your knees, craning your neck to reach him easier.

Relief settles over you in a wash of warmth, the constant nag of worry that hangs in the back of your mind whenever he leaves now put to rest—for now, anyway. All that matters is that he’s home; safe and seemingly unbloodied.

You’ve had your share of scares.

Nights where he would stumble in, unsteady on his feet and clinging to your body for support. Nights where your hands would shake, the needle firmly grasped between your fingers trembling as you tried your best to fix it the best you could. Nights where you’d ignore all calls of sleep and just watch him rest, attention focusing on any and every twitch of his body in concern that he’d suddenly stop breathing, or be lost to unseen internal injuries.

But these nights? These are the nights you cling to. The nights where he would return in the same shape as he left—still whole, still Matty. 

You chase his mouth with a hand wrapping around the smooth helmet to bring him closer, the soft lick of his tongue against yours as he deepens the kiss stoking the low heat building in your core.

You know he can feel how your body responds to him, the hands resting comfortably on your waist now starting to grab a little harder, his fingers digging into soft flesh in the urge to have you closer despite the back of the couch keeping you separated.

“I want—I want to do something for you,” you pant softly, breaking away from his mouth and feeling his own rapid breathing blow across your lips, “if you’ll let me.”

“I’ll let you do whatever you want.”

“Yeah? Good.” You break fully away from him, stepping carefully from the couch and holding a hand out.

His head moves to follow the sounds of your movements, the soft crumple of cotton along your arm and the light rattle of your bracelet as you raise your hand sinks into his ears, and he reaches out immediately, fingers interlacing with yours and body moving to follow your lead. 

To his surprise, you bypass the bedroom in favour of the bathroom. He feels the ever present chill of the tiles along the bare skin of his cheeks, hears the soft pad of your sock clad feet along the floor as you make your way to the shower.

“Take it off, Matty.” You request softly, opening the glass door and reaching in to start the water and fiddle with the temperature.

Steam soon starts to rise from the heavy stream of water, and it’s then you turn and return your attention to Matt, scanning over his body and observing the new blossoming patches of deep purple mixing in with some of his older bruises.

“‘Quiet’?” You scoff quietly, stepping forward and reaching out to trace over them softly.

A frown of concern pinches your brows, but Matt remains unfazed, his shoulders lifting in a small shrug as he pulls the rest of the suit off completely with a barely there flicker of a wince. It drops to the floor in a heavy heap, closing the door on the devil for another night and hopefully bringing him a bit of peace with it.

“Compared to the usual—yes. Stop chewing your cheek, I’m fine.”

“I’m not che—”

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1,836 notes - Posted April 29, 2022

#2

devilish

matt murdock x f!reader

A/N: it’s not my fault. I’m in love. Thank you to the ones who threw me head first into the Murdock pit - y’all know who you are and I love you. This is my first time with Matt, so I apologise if it’s trash lmao. Enjoy!

Summary: You spent a bit more money than you probably should have on some particular scraps of lace that really have no reason being that expensive, but it’s worth every cent when you get to ‘show’ it off.

Word count: 3k-ish

Warnings: SMUTTTT 18+ ONLY vaginal fingering, oral sex (f), unprotected p in v sex, spanking, choking, biting, a pinch of sub!Matt, a dash of dom!Matt - he has the range darling, masturbation (f), use of saliva as lubrication, creampie, Matt being the damn tease he is, swearing, racy lingerie [if I’ve missed anything, please let me know!]

———

“I did something really bad.”

Matt winces as he shifts to sit on the side of the bed, stretching out the leftover ache in his arms from his nightly activities. He sighs, head turning to where he hears you shifting, fingers tangling and rubbing together. You’re nervous. Are you still wearing your coat? He doesn’t smell any blood -

“It’ll be a conflict of interest if I defend you. Fo-”

“Nothing illegal, Matthew. Christ.”

You smile at the disapproving twitch of his features and step closer with a murmur of an apology, smile widening when he lifts a hand expectantly. You intertwine your fingers and let him tug you closer, pressing a soft kiss of greeting against his forehead.

“I bought something.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want to see it?”

A smirk pulls at his lips and you roll your eyes.

“You know what I mean, Matthew.”

He grins. “Alright. ‘Show’ me.”

He offers his other hand and you move to gently grip his wrists, pulling softly at his hands before planting them directly on your chest. His brows twitch up in pleasant surprise as the first wave of your arousal hits his senses.

“Not a bad place to start.”

“Under my coat, Murdock.��

His fingers drop in search of the buttons holding your coat together before tugging at the belt and letting it fall open. He expects the soft feel of a new blouse, maybe a dress, but bare skin meets his fingertips and his brows raise further.

“You came from your apartment with nothing on?”

“I have something on.” You defend softly. “I can… I can describe it for you. It’s real pretty. Bright red, soft, lacy… leaves very little to the imagination.”

You guide his fingers along the cups of your most recent purchase and his lips quirk upwards, his thumbs brushing against the thin lace covering your nipples and feeling them perk instantly at his light touch. The material is fine, soft, barely there, and only just manages to hold the flesh of your tits. He traces over them, touch curious and eager, painting the intricate pattern of lace in his mind and how it would smooth over your skin.

“You’re not kidding.” He teases eventually, tone low and quiet, a grin still tugging at the corner of his lips.

Your eyes follow the movement of his tongue as it runs along his lower lip the further down you guide his fingers. They brush along the waistline of your matching underwear before dipping under and snapping it lightly against your skin.

“Same colour and style,” you murmur, grip loosening on his fingers to let him feel for himself. “Sheer. Very cheeky.”

His fingers run along the edges, over where the material finishes at the tops of your thighs, dancing around to feel along where the material melts into your ass cheeks before giving them a sharp, playful little smack. You fall into his frame with a breathless giggle, fingers combing back his dark, bed ruffled locks. 

“And the best part?”

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2,688 notes - Posted February 25, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

sacrilege

Frank Castle x f!reader x Matt Murdock

A/N: it took precisely 27 seconds of me watching them yell at each other to start writing whatever the fuck kind of mess this is. This is so unbelievably self indulgent and filthy, I should be ashamed of myself... but I’m not. Enjoy!

Summary: You get tag teamed and walk away full of cum. I don’t know what else to say 🤷🏼‍♀️

Word count: 6.1k (jesus)

Warnings: Swearing, brief violence, SMUTTTT 18+ ONLY light knife use/play, thigh humping, voyeurism, rough handling, a slice of degradation, praise kink, choking, biting, scratching, a clit smack or two, finger sucking and a purposeful gag, vaginal fingering, spitting, oral sex (f), unprotected p in v sex, use of belt around the neck, masturbation (m), creampies, brief cum eating, reader will need some pain relief, a hot bath and a big sleep after this tbh

———

He’s infuriating.

He’s infuriating, and yet, you just can’t leave it alone. You push, and push, and push, until the inevitable snap comes and you get a taste of the Punisher, rough and unforgiving as he all but slams you into the wall, thick forearm pressing against your throat and a finger in your face in warning.

“Stay out of my business next time.”

You squirm, glaring heartedly up at him. “Oh you are such a fucking dick! I was only trying to help! Fuck you!”

“Watch your mouth when you’re talkin’ to me—”

“Yeah? Or what?” You shove at his chest, “Or what, Castle?”

He presses harder against your throat, unbothered by the idea of giving your head a little slam against the brick to shake you off his back, but then he stops, a twitch pulling at the corner of his lips as he studies your expression.

“Think you’re enjoyin’ this a little more than I thought.”

You hit at his hands, lacking any true strength. “Get the fuck off me—”

He gives you an opening, his body losing most of its tension out of curiosity. You could easily slip out of his grip now—he’d seen what you could do. You were a little spitfire, all fists and power, and yet you remain under him, putting up a bit of a fight but barely putting in any effort. His face moves closer and he tracks the unsteady bob of your throat as you swallow, your eyes jumping between his.

“Yeah, you are enjoyin’ this. What—you got some twisted little fantasy, sweetheart? Red ain’t cuttin’ it for you?” He chuckles low and hoarse. “What do you need, baby? Tell me. You need me to be the bad guy? Rough you up a little bit?”

“Fuck you, Castle.” You spit, bucking against his frame. Your actions lack strength, fight. You know it as well as him.

“Yeah I bet you’d like that. How do you want it? Like this? Or you want me to bend you over the vents? Bet I can get you moanin’ loud enough to get your boyfriend runnin’ here.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, dick. Now get your fucking hands off me.”

He hums, gruff and thoughtful. “Is that what you want? Coz I don’t think it is. You’re out here rubbin’ up on me like a goddamn bitch in heat.”

A flood of hot rage flushes along your chest. “I am not.”

You are. You know you are. You can’t deny the attraction you feel for him, all strong set features and a merciless hunger for revenge. He wasn’t all death and destruction though, like the media claimed. You’d seen him smile, you’d heard him laugh. Matt spoke highly of him, despite not agreeing with his methods. The two had a respect for the other, and maybe that’s why he intrigued you. 

“Yeah, okay. This—” he trails a hand down your side, grinning at your sharp gasp and subtle arch of your frame, “—says differently. Look at me.”

Your gaze flicks up from where his hand rests on your waistline, eyes darting between his. Your head tilts slightly in question, a sterner, more serious look overcoming his features.

“Is this okay?”

…oh.

You can’t help the little twitch of your lips as you nod, answering with a quiet, “Yeah… it’s okay.”

Frank nods, rough fingers digging under your tac shirt and running along your heated skin. “You get uncomfortable, or you wanna stop at any time, just say the word. Clear?”

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2,777 notes - Posted March 19, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[roxyspearing]

A good man

Written for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing 9 squares for 3 fics challenge :)

Squares filled : vetala, loving, Sam Winchester

Word count: 751

Characters: Reader, Sam, Dean, John Winchester (mentioned), Reader's family (mentioned)

Warnings: minor character deaths, injury to reader

“Never settle, baby. Find a good man, a man who loves you, for you.” Those were the last words my momma ever said to me. I came home from college 3 days later to find my whole family dead. I barely had a second to get my head wrapped round the sight in front of me when I got tackled to the floor. All I could see was fur and claws and yellow eyes, and it terrified me. But then my saviours came.  The older one, John, took care of the body, while his son tried to calm me down, and told me what had just happened. That's the first time I ever heard the name Winchester, and about the world of hunting.

Years passed, and I kept myself busy, and alive. I couldn't go back to my life as it was before, and hunting was all I knew now. Nothing big, salt and burns, the odd shapeshifter. But then I tried to step it up a bit, and went after a vetala. Little did I know the bastards work in pairs. I was in this shack of a house, tied down and weak from being fed on. God knows how much time I had left, but it surely wasn't much. I had my eyes closed, ready to be with my family again, when warm hands grasped my face. “Hey. Hey! You still with me, sweetheart?” I'd seen a lot of stuff during my hunting time, but I wasn't prepared to open my eyes and see the guy who had hugged me while I cried over my family being killed by a werewolf. “Dean? Dean Winchester?” I murmured, my voice weak from my near state of death, and the screaming I'd done every time they'd bit into me. “Yeah? How do...holy....Y/N?”

I lost consciousness sometime after Dean had carried me out to his car, and I woke up in a motel room not too different to the one I had booked when I had first rolled into town. “Alright there, sleeping beauty?” As Dean patched me up, he told me what he'd been up to since that night so long ago. The death of his dad, how he and his brother hunted together, heaven, hell and everything in between. It hadn't been too long since Dean had gone to take a shower that I heard keys in the door. “Dean?” The guy juggling two bags of food hadn't yet realized that I was awake, and damn was I glad. Because where Dean was strong and intimidating, this guy was even more so. Even taller then Dean, with broad shoulders. “He's in the shower.” “Oh. Hi. I'm Sam.” “Y/N.” When Dean joined us, we were sat on the bed together, laughing at some crappy sitcom. That's how we spent most of the next week, just watching T.V and getting to know one another while I healed. And when the week came to an end, and they asked if I wanted to tag along with them, it didn't take much for me to say yes.

Cases came and went, and me, Sam and Dean found an easy rhythm. Dean was like my brother, a little protective and over-bearing, sure, but his heart was in the right place. And Sam? Well, that was a little more difficult to explain. Most of the time, it was like how it was with Dean. But then there were times, times when it was just the two of us, and the tension would be thick enough to cut with a knife. And then the tension came to an end. Ironically, we were on a vetala hunt. Dean had broken his leg, so was strictly on research duty. Me and Sam took out the vetalas, thankfully without anyone else dying or either of us getting hurt. And that night, as I sat and gazed at the sky, unable to sleep, Sam woke up, and without a word came over and kissed me. We made love, the moonlight shining through the window over us. And that's how we woke up the next morning, limbs tangled together, smiles on both our faces. Sure, there were difficult times. But I had faith in his love for me, and my love for him. And at night, when I couldn't sleep, I'd lay there and watch him, and I would think back to what my momma told me. And I knew that I hadn't just found a good man. I'd found the best one.

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