#cotton nursing bra | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

strang3lov3 · 2 months ago

Text

Tear You Apart

Roman hatefucks you (2.1k words).

Tags - smut, rough/violent sex, mean!roman, and perhaps dark!roman too if you squint (I’m serious. Don’t underestimate him) lack of proper foreplay (intentional), unprotected piv, spanking, biting, choking, hitting, degradation, bruises, dacryphilia, hatefuck, masturbation, fingering, creampie, come play, fearplay, threats of violence, typical Roman sexism, Roman spits in your mouth, orgasm denial, Roman denies you of some basic physiological needs in maslow’s hierarchy, a singular atom of aftercare, one (1) Depeche Mode reference. Probably forgot some things but if you’re here then you know what you want, and I know what you want, and we both know you’re gonna read anyway.

A/N - received a message from god and i did what had to be done. @cum-a-calla said “k but imagine Roman talking about how much he hates you while being violently railed. swoon” so here’s this. Straight fucking, beginning to end. I love you @cum-a-calla I think you’re just the fucking best 😻🥰 and @beefrobeefcal do your eyes ever hurt from how much I abuse them? Thank you for lending them to me again and again 💜🥩🐛

Roman’s swaying left and right in his swivel chair, nursing a glass of whiskey when you open his bedroom door. “You’re late,” he says, slurring his words ever so slightly. His eyes are bloodshot, hair mussed, tie loosened and his white shirt unbuttoned. Roman takes his silver watch off and sets it down on the end table next to him.

You shift your weight from one foot to the other. “I know.”

“You texted 10:30,” Roman reminds you. “And it’s midnight.”

“I know,” you repeat. “I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.”

“Better fuckin’ not. C’mon, chop chop. You know what you’re here for.”

You do know; the same thing you’re always here for. Roman downs the rest of his drink, then pours another, and this time offers it to you. You decline politely, a quiet and demure no, thank you with a gentle shake of your head as you take off your shirt. Roman shrugs, drinks that one too. He feels lightheaded.

You shuck off your pants, and Roman takes care to help you with your bra, fingers tracing over the indents it’s left in your skin. “All of it,” he says, smacking your ass, right over that large, rashy bruise he left last time. It was a week ago, maybe. Is that correct? Is that the last time you did this? Roman can never keep track. It doesn’t matter anyway. You’re just as hungry for Roman’s violence as he is to inflict it upon you.

You shimmy the cotton underwear down your hips and your legs, now fully bare before Roman. Exposed. Roman sidles up behind you, his veiny hands on your waist. He urges you closer to the mirror and turns you around slowly, admiring the marks he made on you last time. Bite marks, lots of bites, and god, how he loves sinking his teeth into your skin. There’s bruises darkening your skin, though not all are visible. Some you feel instead of see. There’s the odd scratch, maybe the fault of his unclipped nails or perhaps the blunt metal edge of his watch he doesn’t always remember to take off. Roman watches you in the mirror, the eye contact intimidating. He looks like he wants to eat you alive.

Roman presses his fingertips against a bruise on your hip, causing you to wince. It’s an odd shape, odd location too. “I like this one,” Roman says. “Pretty.” It’s a compliment, almost. Almost.

It begins here. Roman separates your hands that are held together, nervously fidgeting with yourself. He takes your forearm and twists it behind your back, pushes it up, up, even higher yet. You can see in the mirror how he smiles, his eyes darkening when you start to wince in pain. “You’re hurting me,” you whine. “You’re - ah, my arm��”

“I know it hurts you,” Roman taunts. “I could break it just like this. Fuckin’ snap it. I think about it sometimes.”

His words make you sick. Make you breathe funny, make you feel all icky inside. He fucking loves it, how your breath hitches in your throat, and how he can feel it happen under his palm. And when you’re afraid like that, you squeeze around him harder, walls pulsing, clenching…

Roman forces you down onto the bed, your face buried in his pillows. You lie on your stomach and he parts your thighs with his knee, still holding you in place, now with both of your arms bent into place. Roman holds them in one hand and kneels at your side, and with his free hand he rubs over the swell of your ass. He parts your cheeks, admires your tight asshole and your snatch. He traces those pretty folds of yours and rubs your clit, listening to those quiet gasps you swallow. He wonders when you’ll - and yup, there it is. You’re writhing on the bed, grinding your hips into his palm. Roman smiles at this. The rules, you’re breaking the rules. “I’m not gonna make you come,” he reminds you.

“I know,” you mumble.

“I’m only getting you wet.”

“I know.”

“Then what do you think you’re doing?”

Silence. Roman removes his fingers from your cunt and spanks you hard - once, twice, three times total. You wail in pain, humming rhythmically in an attempt to soothe yourself of the ache, that awful sting. Roman traces the outline of his puffy handprint on your ass. “You just don’t get it, do you? It doesn’t matter how many times we do this little dance. You never learn who calls the shots. Un-fucking-believable,” he huffs. “I don’t give a shit if it hurts - you can forget about getting wet now. Spread your legs.”

Roman situates himself behind you as you spread your legs, though it’s not enough. Roman holds the backs of your knees in his hands and spreads you wider, the cool air a jarring sensation against your hot, pulsing sex. He unbuckles his belt and tosses it on the floor where it lands with a loud thump. He undoes his pants next, the zzzzip noise slow and loud as the metallic teeth separate one by one. Roman pulls his already-hard cock out and before entering you, brings his palm to your mouth. “Don’t say I don’t do anything for you. Spit.”

You lift your head and spit into his palm, and he strokes his cock with it before pressing his blunt head against your entrance. You squeeze your eyes shut and suck in a breath, anticipating what’s to come.

Roman thrusts violently into you, the stretch and the burn causing you to squeal. You scramble for hold on the sheets, the pillows - anything to ground yourself as you take the pain he gives to you. Roman grabs a fistfull of your hair and yanks, “C’mon,” he goads. “You can do better than that.”

Roman pulls out of you all the way and plunges right back into you, harder than before. You bite into a comforter to muffle a sob, the first tears squeezing from your eyes. It hurts, it all really fucking hurts, and each time is worse than the last.

He wriggles his forearm under your tummy and hikes your hips up, Roman on his knees behind you. “Fuck yourself on it,” he says. “Go on and fuck my cock. Show me that you’re good at one thing, one simple thing.”

Following his command, you rock yourself forward, then back again. It’s slow, as that’s all you can stomach right now. The pain hasn’t yet dissipated and each movement, each twitch of Roman’s cock feels like a knife against your insides. The pain is fiery, too intense to focus on anything but.

“Are you even trying?”

“Yes,” you whimper, till rocking, inch by little inch. “I’m trying.”

Too slow. You’re too fucking slow, and too fucking tedious. Roman rolls his eyes, “You’re fucking pathetic,” he spits, words like poison. He takes your hips in his hands and pulls you hard against his cock, his hips slamming against your ass as he sets a brutal pace. “I have to do everything for you. What can you do, huh? Tell me, say ‘nothing, Roman’.”

“Nothing,” you repeat, voice thick with your tears. “Nothing, Roman.”

“That’s right. Don’t you ever forget it, you goddamn useless fucking cunt.” Roman’s nails are digging, cutting into your skin as he fucks you like an animal. “You’re good for nothing but getting fucked. Fucking whore, you’re fucking nothing without me. Nothing.”

You nod, sobbing as he pounds into you. You’re completely powerless, just how he wants you. Roman bares his teeth as he leans over you to wrap his hand around the column of your neck, pulling you up and against his chest as he fucks up into you. Roman squeezes your throat, bruising the soft flesh as he bites into your shoulder hard enough so that he draws blood. The coppery taste, the crimson dotting your skin. He licks it away.

He’s choking you. He’s choking you and you’re wheezing, coughing and sputtering as you try desperately to wriggle your fingers under his palm. You succeed in this, or perhaps Roman lets you have a small win - either way, you free yourself from him and crawl forward on the bed, reaching for Roman’s glass of water on the nightstand. With shaky hands, you bring the glass to your lips and take little sips, all you can handle and you’re still spilling onto yourself. Roman glares at you as he gets off and rounds the bed, then takes the glass away from you. “Did I say you could have that?”

“I was ch-”

Roman lays a brutal slap against your cheek, less of a smack and more of a beating. His palm is so sharp it makes you cry harder. Fuck, he loves when you do that.

“Shut the fuck up. You choke if I want you to choke,” he bites. “Don’t pull that shit again. God, I fucking hate you.”

Roman forces you onto your back and spreads your legs again. He enters you just as harshly as he did before, finding that same, punishing, unrelenting pace as he fucks you deep, the head of his cock kissing against your cervix with every one of his thrusts.

You choke on your sobs, hyperventilating as tears stream down your cheeks. You feel lightheaded, numb everywhere but where pleasure and pain flows between your hips. Breathe, you need to breathe.

“Stupid fucking slut. I fucking h- oh, fuck. Shit. I fucking hate you. Jesus Christ, I really fucking hate you, you know that?”

You cry and cry, burying your head into Roman’s pillows to hide your face. Roman pulls the pillows away from you and throws them onto the floor, then grabs your face, digging his fingers into the hollows of your cheeks as he squeezes your jaw. “Hey. You fucking look at me when I use you. Right here. You focus right here.”

Your face is puffy with tears, eyes red and tear-stained, lashes all wet. Roman wears a crooked smirk as he digs his fingers harder into your cheeks so that your mouth opens in a little O shape, then spits into your mouth. “Cunt. I fucking hate you, oh, I fucking hate you.”

Roman pounds into you, hovering over your body to cage you in. You’re gonna feel all of him, and nothing else. He pins your wrists together above your head, his face panting into the skin of your neck as he fucks you so brutally. “Oh my god. Oh, fuck. Fuck,” he moans.

If you focus hard, you can feel his pubic bone against your clit. You follow that sensation, rocking your hips to meet his thrusts, chasing that sweet friction. You could come. You could.

“Nuh-uh. Nice fucking try,” Roman half-laughs. “You’re not subtle.”

Standing before you, Roman grabs you by the ankles and tugs you closer to himself. He puts your legs on his shoulders and ruts into you relentlessly, now chasing his orgasm. He could’ve gone longer than this, but he’s not gonna let you come on his cock.

Roman feels that fiery pleasure build quickly in his belly, balls tightening, indicating that release is just moments away. “Ohhhh, fuck,” Roman moans gutturally, hanging his head back as he milks himself entirely, spurting rope after rope of his hot come.

You feel cheated. You feel used. You’re a crying mess when Roman pulls out of you, his spend spilling onto his bed. “R-Roman,” you whimper, violent sobs wracking through your body. Roman gathers his spend with his fingers and paints it over your cunt, lips all swollen and sore with the ferocity of his fucking. “I need you, Roman.”

Roman leans over you, “Go fuck yourself,” he whispers in your ear. “I mean it. Fuck yourself on your fingers.”

You’re completely exhausted. Fucked out. But still, you reach for your center and gather Roman’s come on your fingertips and circle your clit, willing your release along. Writhing on the bed, chasing a pleasure only Roman can give to you. And your poor pussy is so sore, beaten and bruised by Roman. He watches you intently and with dark, loveless eyes, that vein bulging in the center of his forehead. He covers your mouth with his hand and brings the other to your cunt, pushing two fingers inside, gentler than before. He curls those fingers repeatedly as you rub circles around your clit and oh, there it is. You’re pulsing around his fingers, muffled moans signaling your orgasm. Roman works you through it and far past its end, only stopping when you’re a twitching shuddering wreck, a bug flailing on its back. Pathetic.

Roman pulls his fingers from you and shoves them past your lips, “Suck,” he murmurs, then presses his forehead against yours. You lick his fingers, tasting your own release mixed with Roman’s. “God, you’re so fucked up,” he murmurs in a saccharine tone, and the sympathy in his voice sounds almost genuine. “So fucked up. Why do you let me do this to you, huh?”

Roman tags ❤️

@goldenispunk @littlevenicebitch69 @gaeela-6 @bean-is-reading @slutsoutgutsout

@galarian-weezing-on-prep @cum-a-calla @pastelpinkflowerlife @kolsmikaelson

@moth-maam56 @kothku @cult-of-escapism @swiftiegirliepop @bluecookies-and-ink

@romanarose @kappasbbgirl @magpiepills

@highinmiamiii @verstappensrealwife

@thesummerpetrichor @lilipads @luiscarrutherss @pastelpinkflowerlife @baronessvonglitter

@myromeow @ovaryacted @doll-0f-flesh @/always-andromeda

#roman roy x reader smut #roman roy x reader #roman roy/reader #roman roy smut #roman roy x you #roman roy #kieran culkin characters #kieran culkin #succession x reader #succession smut #succession fic #dark!roman roy #mean!roman roy #dark!roman #mean!roman

236 notes · View notes

writefinch · 4 months ago

Text

second puberty

You're a totally normal boy until one day at school you notice that your nipples just kinda itch.

It's weird and it keeps happening for like a week and you think you should tell your parents and maybe go to the doctor but school is busy and you've got a lot on your mind and one day in English class another student says "bro what's that on your shirt"

There's a tiny damp patch spreading through the navy blue fabric of your sweatshirt, right over your nipple, a pale bead welling up on the cotton. As you move you see a matching wet spot on the other side of your chest.

And the guy on the desk across suddenly shuts the fuck up because he knows what's happening to you and doesn't want to let the whole class know because that's just cruel and clumsy but he goes so quiet and looks so horrified that the people around you notice

Oh, you still try to hide it. A few students know, sure. You're being talked about, but it's just talk. You come to school in baggy clothes and tape sanitary pads over your nipples. You even wear a sports bra to flatten them down.

You collapse in gym class the next week. Mastitis. Blocked milk ducts. Swelling, redness, fever. A few more days and it would have gone septic.

Then you have to show the nurse. You're too weak to put the breast pumps on. The nurse acts like you're testing her patience. It feels more like a TSA patdown than a medical procedure.

Later, with your parents, a doctor gives you the rundown. Bovine anthropoidism. It's not a genetic disorder, though it sometimes runs in families. You're turning into a cowgirl. Its progress can be halted with a full orchiectomy, but no doctor in any decent insurance network will perform that operation on a healthy young man with no children.

Your parents are upset. Your mom is acting like it's her fault, and your dad is acting like it's your fault. They had to cancel their weekend plans to take you shopping for a breast pump.

You learn that the thick, dull haze over your mind wasn't feverishness. The mental fog is your body's signal to stop what you're doing and get milked. As soon as those ducts are full, trying to think about anything is like trying to do a math test with a stinking cold.

Your male puberty stops overnight. Those dozen wisps of hair on your chin, which you shave every five or six days, are the most you're getting. You didn't put on much muscle in high school, but you're going to lose what little you did. You're a lot hungrier all of a sudden, like you've always missed a meal. Your parents don't like that. You feel like you need an extra three hours of sleep each night. They don't like that either.

When the news gets out at school, the girls you know are mostly ok to you. The boys are weird and mean about it. Punching you in the chest to see if the rumors are true, mooing at you, making gross milkshake-slurping noises as they walk past you in the halls.

Your test scores drop a little from the stress and the distractions but it seems to have a serious knock-on effect where teachers just… don't take you seriously as a student any more. They all think cows are just dopey all the time.

They get really annoyed that you keep asking to be excused to get your breasts milked. They think it's a sign that you're distracted or just trying to avoid the lesson, openly telling you that you're distracting the whole class every time you slouch off to the nurses office.

Some boys spread a rumour that you did this to yourself deliberately. You ordered bovine hormones because you're a weird pervert. Another goes that you tried to convince another boy to start taking bovine hormones because you're gay and a creep

After that the boys bathrooms are basically unusable for you. Boys start taking their phones out and live streaming you like you're Chris Chan. One of your "friends" mentions to you, out of faithful devotion to your welfare, that you've got your own kiwifarms thread.

You delete your socials after that. The harrassment dies down and in the next school year you find that you can recover a small social circle, as long as you're careful. You even go to a couple of parties.

Your first kiss is an assault from a guy whose name you don't know, who puts a hand on your tit until he feels his palm get wet, and presses his lips to yours as you open your mouth in shock. You hadn't paid him much mind before that. You'd been stealing glances at the pretty girl he was striking out with, and he took you for easier prey.

He was right, you think.

Bovine puberty stops normal erections from happening. You only realise that you can still even get erections when another boy rests his hand on your lower back. It's really hard to figure out what your body wants. It's harder still to figure out what you want. You don't know what's your body and what's your brain and what's just you freaking out like a dumb teenager. You seem to have lost your fight response. It's all freeze or flight now whenever your hackles get up. Anger just turns to fear and timidity.

Really you're lucky. You're still probably going to college. Yeah you got harassed a lot and turned into a bit of a hermit but hey, more time to study. Your family obviously resent it and think you made a stupid mistake but they don't kick you out or anything. You aren't traumatized or anything like that.

School kinda sucks for a lot of people, you guess.

#stories #second puberty

234 notes · View notes

writing-until-i-drop · 3 months ago

Text

Bathroom Sex | Rhett Abbott (Outer Range) x reader | wc: 927

No use of y/n | 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings! fingering, dirty talk, Rhett's got a dirty mouth, unprotected p in v (don't forget the condom), lmk if I missed anything

Ao3

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Rhett was in rare form tonight. He had already gotten into a fight with his dad, a fellow bull rider, and his dad again after he’d gotten pulled off the bull rider. You had wanted to take him back to yours, clean him up, and put him to bed but he had wanted a drink. That’s how you found yourself at a shitty dive bar, nursing a soda, watching your boyfriend stew in his piss poor mood.

You had tried everything to make it better but none of your usual tricks were working. Which only left the big guns. You popped a button on your flannel, watching Rhett’s eyes drift downwards from where he had been staring a hole in the wall behind you to your cleavage.

“Darlin’,” He rasped softly, you could barely hear him over the crowd. “You tryin’ to get me in another fight?”

“Trying to cheer you up,” You undid another button, giving him a glimpse of your bra. It wasn’t anything pretty, a plain, cotton bra you had put on for function more than seduction but for Rhett, anything you wore did the trick. “It working?” You teased the third button, biting your bottom lip.

“Shit,” Rhett sighed, pulling you off your stool and through the crowd until he found the bathroom. You giggled the whole way, knowing Rhett’s good mood would be making an appearance soon. Rhett pressed you against the inside of the unlocked bathroom door, “Take it off before I rip the buttons.” His voice was all growly and quiet, making you shiver. As much as you hated when he was mad, you also enjoyed it when the solution was you.

You got one of the buttons undone before Rhett’s patience ran out, the plastic fastenings going flying around the small bathroom.

“Rhett!” Your scold turned into a moan as his lips met your neck. If anyone was walking past the bathroom, they would know exactly what was going on but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You reached down, fumbling with his belt as he attacked your neck like a starving man, licking and biting, leaving hickeys the size of Texas that would be hell to cover.

“Keeps your hands to yourself,” Rhett shoved them away, undoing the buckle for himself. You reached for the button of your jeans but he slapped your hands away again, “Stop fucking helping, darlin’.”

“Then hurry up,” You snapped at him, spurring him on. Rhett undressed you roughly, pulling your clothes off in a way that had you a little concerned you’d be walking out of the bar naked. “Fucking hell,” You moaned as he pushed a finger inside of you.

“So fucking tight for me. This pussy supposed to cheer me up?” You nodded, feeling your pleasure build as his thumb found your clit. “Might just do the job for me, darlin’.”

“Might?” You rolled your eyes. Rhett added another finger, silencing your complaints about his choice of words.

“Gonna fuck you against this door, make you scream so loud they call the fucking cops,” Rhett’s filthy mouth just added to your arousal. “You okay with that?” You knew he’d stop and take you home if you told him to but you didn’t want him to.

“You look good in handcuffs,” He did. It made bailing him out a little less annoying. Rhett didn’t stop fingering you until you cried out, orgasm washing over you.

“That’s my good girl,” Rhett kissed you, tapping your thigh, motioning for you to jump up. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he wasn’t no time sliding into you, the burn of the stretch had you clawing at his back, moaning his name. “Let me hear you, darlin’. Let everyone in this bar know exactly whose girl you are.”

“Rhett,” You cried as he drew back before thrusting sharply, filling you completely. Rhett set a brutal pace, fucking you into the door so hard you thought it might break.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” It was impossible that someone hadn’t noticed what was going on by then. Between your cries of pleasure and the banging door, it would be a miracle if you didn’t open the door to find either the cops or a crowd waiting for you.

“Gonna cum,”

“Wait.” Rhett ordered, increasing the speed of his thrusts. You closed your eyes, fighting the overwhelming need to cum. Your composure was hanging on by a thread, you weren’t sure you could wait much longer but you’d try for him.

“Rhett, please,” You pleaded, digging your nails into his back. “Please, please, please!”

“Cum for me,” Rhett came with you. Your mind blanked as Rhett fucked you through your orgasm, turning you into an overstimulated mess. He didn’t stop though, not until you were crying, babbling his name.

Rhett dropped you to your feet softly, pressing gentle kisses across your face and neck, whispering sweet nothings. Even in your blissed out state of mind, you felt a sense of satisfaction knowing that Rhett’s bad mood was long gone.

“So fucking good for me,” He pulled off his flannel and dressed you in it. “Cheering me up like this.”

“Do anything for you,” You pulled him in for a kiss, “Love you.”

“Love you too, darlin’. Now let me take you home,” He got you dressed and gave you one more kiss before guiding you out of the bar. There were shouts and wolf whistles that had you burying your face in Rhett’s chest but he had a pep in his step, proud of himself.

Taglist: @wanderingsoul6261 @halflifejess @kyemna @alipap3 @yutangwl @teacupsandtopgun @glenpowellluver @closetspngirl @that-one-fangirl69 @starshinegrl @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @sarah-bear706318 @shanimallina87 @atuman @carolina-on-my-mind03 @winelover27 @cherrycola27 @cevansbaby-dove @runawaybaby3 @helloitzholly

#bet writes #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #outer range

81 notes · View notes

fubu18writes · 1 year ago

Text

❧In the hidden corners of the library, your relationship is hidden amongst the erotica

♢regular tags: f!reader, bonten!kakucho, reader is bonten's nurse (because i doubt that they're always unharmed) and is also kakucho's close friend, friends to lovers, drunk and flirty!kakucho ♢mature tags: slight age gap (reader is 24, so kakucho is older by 4 years), reader is called "slut", uhh idk what this tag is but kakucho shoves the reader's underwear in her mouth, dom!kakucho, daddy kink aheh, semi-public sex (y'all are in a library lol) ♢all characters are 18+ and above unless stated otherwise

a/n: joining the "Yes, Daddy!" collab by @sugarbebenireo! and yes this was... a bit inspired by ana huang's book called "twisted love"... yeah i was reading a bit and i had the idea lmaoo so yeah i hope i did kakucho justice with this

Needless to say, you were used to Kakucho getting injured ever since you were assigned to be Bonten's nurse...

You tended to everyone despite being uncomfortable. However, the only person you managed to be comfortable with was Kakucho

The both of you had become close enough to be considered friends. Kakucho was a little hesitant in becoming comfortable with you, but gradually, he opened up and considered you as a close and trusted friend.

But then... well, Kakucho thought of you as more than a friend.

So when you were in the library that night, hearing the door open and seeing Kakucho looking like he had been drinking and seeing his hand bleed, you didn't hesitate to close the library door and patch him up with some equipment that you carry around for emergencies.

"It's fine, love..." Kakucho says. His voice wasn't slurred but you couldn't help but feel your cheeks flare at the nickname he'd usually give you when the both of you were alone. "It's just a scratch. You've seen worse."

"You're bleeding," You say as you dabbed the medicine with the cotton, flinching a little when you hear him hiss a little in pain. You took a deep breath, finally finishing up with wrapping up the gauze on his hand. "You really should stop getting yourself injured like this, and if you do keep doing this, at least stay sober..."

"If I stay sober, then I wouldn't really be able to say what I want to say to you." Kakucho held your hand as he stared into your (e/c) eyes. Your cheeks flare up again at the sudden action.

"I have feelings for you, and I want to be more than just friends." Kakucho confesses. "I may be drunk right now, but what I'm saying is true."

"Kakucho..." You wanted to say something, but instead you just looked away. Kakucho took this an incentive, his bandaged hand holding your chin to make you look at him. "How am I supposed to kiss you when you're looking away like that?"

You stared at him, speechless. "You're going to kiss...?"

"Can I?"

After a few seconds of silence, you nod. Kakucho pressed his lips onto yours, the kiss starting off gentle. You would have never guessed that Kakucho even felt... anything towards you, considering how you both first started. Now, here you both were, in each other's hold as the kiss started to become more and more aggressive.

When the both of you pulled away, Kakucho had hefted you up onto the windowsill as he kisses you again. You could only melt into the kiss as you let out a muffled moan, his tongue exploring your mouth.

Though when you felt his hand shove his hand over your dress and grazes his teeth over your nipples through the thin lace of your bra (you cursed yourself for wearing something like this of all clothing), your teeth dug into your bottom lip.

"Kakucho, we're in the library. Someone could come in..." You squeaked. You wanted Kakucho to stop but at the same time, you wanted him to keep going. Even if the library was soundproof, someone could very well open the door and see the both of you in the act.

"I'm aware, love." Kakucho pulls your bra aside with his teeth and lavished his attention on your breasts, his non-bandaged hand finding the sweet spot between your legs. "So wet for me, hmm..." His voice was husky when he says this, you couldn't help but let out a soft moan. You could feel his erection press against your leg, thick and hard. "Kakucho, wait--"

"Call me something else, love." Kakucho says with a smirk. Your face, which was already red, turned redder than before. You just stayed silent at that.

Seeing your silence, he then says, "I hope you're not attached to your underwear."

"Wha--?" The sound of tearing fabric already answered your question. Kakucho's lap curled into a sly grin at your shocked expression. "Open your mouth for daddy, won't you?"

Either Kakucho was secretly reading your books, or the alcohol was getting to him. But at that moment, your resistance collapsed. You opened your mouth, and he shoves your underwear in your mouth, shivering when you taste the slick of your own arousal.

Kakucho could see your cunt throbbing at nothing as he returned his attention to your breasts as while he slid in two fingers into your slippery folds. You grip onto his hair, tugging it so hard as he was working you into a frenzy. He lifted his head up from your chest and watched you with smoldering eyes. "That's it, love." He murmured, his muscles taut as he finger-fucked you harder.

You could feel that he was knuckles deep inside you now, the obscene sounds of him sliding in and out of your drenched core creating a dirty symphony that intensified your arousal. You rode on his hand shamelessly, drool leaking from the corners of your mouth as you screamed from the makeshift gag. "Go on and cum, slut. Make a mess for daddy."

And you did. Hard, fast, and endlessly, flying high in an explosion of bliss. Calming down, you saw that he unzipped his pants, and was fisting his cock. God, you knew he was big but you didn't know he was that big... and who knows if he'll slide it inside you the next time. Your thoughts were snapped out when you felt his climax all over your thighs.

"Kakucho..." You removed the makeshift gag out of your mouth, breathing heavily. "How long have you been...?"

"Months," Kakucho replied. "A couple of months."

You nod, looking up at him. "Is this a one-time thing or--Ah!"

Kakucho bit the side of your neck, earning a moan from you. "Come on, love... you can handle one more round for me, right?"

#norrisworks #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader smut #tokyo rev x reader smut #tokyorev x reader #kakucho #kakucho x reader #kakucho x reader smut #yesdaddycollab👄

269 notes · View notes

treedaddymcpuffpuff · 8 months ago

Text

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen

TW: nsfw, angst

The lights of the amusement park in the dying day make the old wooden dock feel like a carnival, a happy place where only good things can happen. He’s snagged your hand in his again, giving your fingers an affectionate squeeze. You can’t help but notice that he slows his long stride to match yours. You get the feeling that it’s not often Detective Tom Ludlow takes the time to meander anywhere.

It’s possible that you lean your head on his shoulder.

When you reach the festively lit booth of the shooting gallery Tom lifts his arm, surprising you by guiding you in a little twirl. “Alright, Miss Oakley, you’re up.”

“Not fair, now I’m dizzy!” you giggle.

“Got a feeling I need any advantage I can get,” he teases. He pays the operator and you get to go first, with the air hose operated pistol. With the shots alloted you knock down 8 out of 8 ducklings, and you make a sad face for the fallen.

Tom takes the pistol with that signature smirk, and you can’t help but admire the way he squares up to the targets, all broad shoulders and spread feet.

You probably need your head checked.

He knocks down seven ducklings easily and doesn’t even look like he feels bad about it. The competitive part of you pouts, but it is his actual job to use an actual gun, so you don’t feel too bad. You know for sure he’s not going to miss the last one. However….

It’s really not your fault, that your awesome push up bra choses that moment to poke you. You have to adjust it, at that very moment. As you fidget with your strap and tug on your neckline to expose your cleavage Tom’s attention is drawn decidedly elsewhere–he misses his duck, and by the look he shoots you, you just know you’re going to pay for it.

The booth operator hands you the big stuffed bunny, and you give it a tight hug goodbye before handing him over to his new owner. “What’re you gonna name him?” You ask.

Tom pinches the fabric of your dress and tugs you forward so the pillowy creature is the only thing separating your bodies. “Oh, you just wait.”

You blink up at him, feigning innocence even as you crush your inner thighs together to relieve the awful ache between them. “That’s a weird name, but whatever you like.” You even add in a little shrug.

His smile is a curved knife—his smile goes straight to your clit, if you’re being honest.

After that little scene, you shouldn’t be jumping at the bit to get locked inside a Ferris wheel compartment alone with him, but you are.

And Tom, not one for wasting time, wrestles you into his lap immediately after the ride starts, dress sleeve falling down your arm, hem ridden up to show your thighs, ass pressed against his clothed erection.

You feel so tiny and scared and helpless and safe in his sturdy lap. He brushes stray hair off your neck, makes your skin erupt in goosebumps, traces the curved line of throat from shoulder to dress sleeve, then tugs the fabric up into its rightful place.

“Aren’t you supposed to be undressing me?” You ask him, emboldened by the fact that you don’t have to look at him while saying it.

“Only sweet girls get to be undressed.” His fingers coast down your arm, leaving every hair raised in their wake, then ghost over your twitching belly, feeling the soft cotton wrinkles of your pretty sundress, taking far too much time inching up, up, up, finally feathering over your pebbled nipple, making your hips jerk and your breath catch on a throaty whine.

His hand travels further until it’s wrapped snug and soft around the front of your throat, tipping your jaw up and back.

“Am I hurting you, pretty girl?” His lips are almost, fucking almost pressed against the sensitive shell of your ear and you get the unhinged urge to scream in frustration.

His other hand slides into the space at the back of your right knee and unsticks your leg from the other one so you can’t press an ounce of this terrible need out of your center. “Answer me.”

“No.” You hardly recognize your own whiny voice.

He rocks his hips up into your soft bottom, and you can’t hide the groan that the feeling of his hardness sinking an ident into your softness elicits.

“Serious question,” he asks.

“Hu-uhh?”

“Was anyone ever patient enough to not just immediately fuck you?”

“Honestly, not really,” you admit, thinking back to previous partners who were convinced foreplay meant giving you a single hickey. You resist the urge to tell him about Dr. Mercer, because you have a feeling Tom really will hurt him badly if he knows the extent of how he made you feel unwanted, and afraid.

“Can’t say I blame them,” he tells you, finally pressing his stubble against the hypersensitive space behind your ear.

You want to ask him the same question, but it’s hard to make words when he’s kissing your cartilage, inhaling your scent, flicking his tongue out to taste the tip of your ear while his right hand absently tickles the back of your knee. Just really fucking teasing the shit out of poor you.

“Look outside,” he urges, and you open eyes that you didn’t realize had fluttered shut.

Below you, the pier glows and glitters rainbow bright, stark against a dark, churning ocean and inky sky. You are suspended at the highest point, stuck right at the top, and your tummy flips a little bit at the thought until it realizes that it’s completely safe wrapped up in Tom’s embrace.

He himself seems a bit distracted, and you use the opportunity to turn your head and kiss his cheek—the angle is awkwardly off, so it ends up being more of a peck to the side of his beautiful nose, but it gets the point across, and this impenetrable fortress of a man flusters below you, a hint of peach lighting the bridge of his nose and cheeks.

He looks absolutely—heartachingly—adorable, and you regret doing it only because this dumbfounded puppy side of him makes you want him in more ways than just physical. Fuck, you want to keep this man. It’s terrifying.

Of course, he’s got to show you up, releases your throat in favor of pushing his fingers into your hair and turning your body so that you’re across his lap rather than in it. One arm supports your back and head while the other lifts both your legs up onto the bench. It’s a perfect position to kiss in, and he’s leaning down, nose brushing your own, lips a half inch away from where you need them to be.

You close your eyes, mouth popping open, every inch of you tense and ready and wanting, but Tom Ludlow does not kiss you. He stays just out of reach, driving you crazy.

You try to make contact after an eternity of him being right there right there right there, but he just holds you in place and tickles your lips with the warm air from his chuckle.

After an aching eternity of madness, he leans in, and makes this so much worse for you, ever so softly placing a wet, tiny kiss to your upper lip before pulling away and making you pant and writhe.

You want to tell him you hate him when he grins that knowing grin, but that would be another lie, because you’re starting to do the opposite of hate him, and it’s far too soon for that feeling to overtake you.

“Tom.” You brace your hands on his chest.

“Yeah?”

“I kinda made this vow to myself when I first moved here that I would be alone with myself for a while. That I would, I don’t know, kind of find myself?”

“So, you’ll bend your rules for a bitch Doctor, but not me?” Instead of angry, his demeanor is outwardly jealous, boyish, pouty. It makes you feel like the biggest jackass on planet earth, and that’s really saying something because you know from experience there are a large number of jackasses residing on this little blue orb.

If there’s one thing about Tom Ludlow, it’s his ability to call you out on your bullshit and expose every part of your charade before it can even really get started. “You’re right, but Julian was a fluke. If anything, he solidified the need to find myself without anyone else in the way.” You decide to not mention the fact that Julian respectfully asked you out instead of harassing you, which greatly influenced your decision of who to go on a date with in the first place.

You watch his jaw tense, vision narrow. He sucks the inside of his cheek. “See, the problem with that is, I’m the one in the way now, and it’s going to be hard to get me to move.”

“Why?”

“Because I haven’t felt like this in a long fucking time, and it’s not just something you let go without a fight.”

You have a feeling he excels at fights.

The Ferris wheel churns to life, sending you down from heaven, breaking the tight intensity of the moment.

You take the attack of opportunity, snatch Mr. Bunny from the seat, and shove his face into Tom’s while making a kissing sound.

“You little weirdo.” He’s laughing, pushing the stuffed animal away half heartedly, rolling his eyes at the childish distraction that’s actually working splendidly.

He grabs the fat toy from you and holds it high into the air. You start to scramble up on him to get to it, but he wraps a restraining arm around your waist.

You can’t reach Mr. Bunny, but you can—finally—press your mouth over his own, giving the same teasing treatment, just a little chaste peck on the lips.

You try to pull back, but he’s got other plans, braces the entire back of your head in his hand and pulls you into his open mouth. His caveman and your cavewoman clash with fervent tongue and teeth. The stuffie drops forgotten while you attempt to meld. His hands are desperate, urgent, like he can’t get enough of you at once. And you don’t think you’re doing any better, because although sporting less brawn, you are just as frantic, grabbing at his short, velvet hair, fisting his shirt in your hand to pull him further against you despite being so smashed together already that you can hardly breathe.

You’re grateful for being on an ending carnival ride in public, because if you were in any sort of private setting, you’d be ripping this man’s clothes off to get him closer.

The look this man gives you as you exit the carriage could start a wildfire. He tugs you against him and slings his arm around your shoulders, bringing you into the shelter of his strong body. It really shouldn't make you feel so invincible as it does, but you feel untouchable under his wing. You make your way down the pier, and you giggle like a little girl when he buys you a cotton candy. You share the sweet treat, the sugar melting on your tongue like your resolve to resist this man.

Fuck. You’ve got it bad.

When you reach the end of the pier you cut down to walk by the water. Tom offers to carry your sandals for you. “Sure you can handle it?” you tease, looking at the bunny. “You’ve got quite an armful.”

“I think I’ll be alright.”

“I’ll be expecting to see that stuffie on your dash the next time you pull me over,” you inform him with an insouciant grin.

“I still gotta pull you over to get some action?” he fires back, tugging you against him. It steals your breath away, and you toy with his collar, mainly to avoid meeting his eyes.

“Tom…?”

“Yeah baby?”

“Is that…something you’ve done before, to get girls?”

You think you know the answer, but your heart is in your throat anyway.

“No. Just you.”

You feel a little braver, lifting your eyes to meet his. “Why?”

“What do you mean?” He seems genuinely puzzled.

“Why me?”

“There was just something about you, sweetheart. When you walked into the room and put me back together again that night–I felt my whole world change.”

You can’t stop yourself from biting your lip. If he’s lying–feeding you lines, the way so many other men have–it will destroy you. You can just feel it in your bones.

“I get the feeling you don’t believe me?”

“I want to,” you tell him, and mean it. “I really want to.”

An ambitious wave chooses that moment to crash around your ankles. You screech, the cold water a shock to your bare skin. Tom scoops you up and swings you to dry land, grinning like a feral tiger with your body wrapped up in his strong arms. He kisses you, really kisses you, nearly lifting you off the ground with his ardor. Your tongue slides against his, and you fancy he counts every single one of your teeth as he bends you over his arm. When at last you part he presses his forehead to yours. “I’m going to be honest with you.”

Oh lord. Here it comes. When a man says something like that to you…it always seems to end in disappointment, somehow. You can’t stop yourself from curling your fingers in his shirt, hiding against his broad chest. You’re not ready. There’s nothing you ever could have done to prepare yourself for this man–maybe deep down, you knew it all along.

“What?” you ask, bracing yourself.

He huffs with laughter, but there’s also an edge to it, his fingers digging into your sides. “I’ve been losing my goddamn mind thinking about how sweet your pussy must taste.”

He can’t see it, but at first all you can do is blink. You should slap him, but instead you just feel weak in the knees. You must make a little noise while tucked up under his chin, because he smirks at you before catching your mouth again.

“I’m starting to think my little nurse likes it when I talk dirty to her.”

“Officer Ludlow, you are a walking sexual harassment violation.” But fuck you, if you don’t say it with a smile.

“Just you wait, baby.”

It almost sounds like a threat, and it sends a spear of molten desire straight to your core, your fingertips curling against his broad chest.

Somehow you manage to peel yourself off of him, tugging on his hand to walk down the beach a little longer. One more second and it was not going to matter how many people were milling around this warm California evening–you were going to tear off his shirt.

Maybe he senses this tension singing down your spine, thrumming like a tuning fork, because he squeezes your fingers in his, leaning over to kiss your temple. “I got you that worked up?” he teases, and you know you should just fucking relax, because he’s already told you that he has good intentions, as insane as that might sound, but you just can’t help but grit your front teeth. To be fair–he’s the one who started all this, and as usual, you’re pretty sure you’re the one who’s risking getting hurt.

"Can I be real with you?"

"Yeah."

"I'm just so fucking tired of being used. I don't know if it's this town, or what, but everyone is so in love with themselves, and everyone has their own agenda..." You sigh, afraid you sound like a crazy person, and a whiner on top of it. "Nevermind."

But he pulls you closer, and he could have pushed you over with a feather after saying, "I get it, believe me. I know we got off to a rough start, but…I meant what I said. I like you. And, if you want, I’ll go find Doctor Bitch right now and make him regret the night his ugly ass Ivy League parents decided to make him.”

You don't know why those simple words crush you inside, but you grip his big hand like he's the last thing you've got to hold on to.

Still, you’ve heard this all before, so a massive part of that protective mind of yours is reluctant to believe anything anyone says let alone talk, dark, handsome men.

“I see you fighting with yourself in there, y/n.” He brings you back from the thorny forest of your thoughts, and you look into his dark, far too perceptive eyes.

Now that he has your attention—he’s never really lost it since you saw him that first night bleeding out in your waiting room—he tucks hair behind your ear and says, “I told you, I can be patient. Trust me.”

“That’s, uh, hard to believe.”

He laughs a little as if at some inside joke. “Want to get a drink? It might do us both some good.”

The margarita you’d had with dinner was excellent, but maybe didn’t have quite enough tequila in it to get you through the night with this man.

“Yeah. That sounds excellent.” It sounded essential, if you were being honest.

***

The bar he brings you to isn’t exactly a dive, but it’s definitely his spot. Everyone seems to know him, and there’s a tickling little thrill in the back of your mind, as you think about how it’s almost like he’s showing you off.

He orders a shot of vodka and a beer. You opt for your favorite vodka cranberry.

“How did you score a date with a nice girl like this?” teases the bartender, and you can tell there’s no malice in it, just friendly ribbing between Guys™.

“Once in a while, even an asshole like me gets lucky,” Tom answers with a smirk, pulling your barstool closer. You find yourself tangled in his long legs, and you’re pretty sure you like it that way.

Tom was right. The drink does do the trick, and you feel yourself relax, even as he keeps finding excuses to touch you, his fingertips on your arm or his big hand engulfing your knee. You lean close so you can hear each other over the requisite noise of the bar, and maybe it’s just the vodka, or the low lights, but his dark eyes shining for you from so close ties your heart up in knots.

You chat for a little while, finish your drink, and before you can stop him he orders you a new one with an insouciant grin. “I gotta hit the head,” he tells you, kissing your cheek before sliding off his stool.

“Okay.”

You try not to. You really do. But you can’t stop yourself from watching him–coming or going, that man is a menace.

It isn’t long before someone hops up on the stool next to you. “Sorry, that seat’s taken,” you say with your best apologetic smile. It’s a man about Tom’s age, with a tight crew cut and a sharp look that just screams LEO, even though he’s in plainclothes. With a glance you see his badge clipped to his belt.

“Oh yeah?” he says with a smile like a razor blade, a hard glint in his blue eyes. “Couldn’t help but notice you’re here with Ludlow.”

“Yeah? So?”

“I’d be careful, I was you. Be a shame, to end up like his wife.”

Your heart spins into freefall at hearing this.

His wife? Is Tom married?

You know your surprise and horror is written all over your face–this asshole enjoys it way too much.

#tom ludlow x reader #street kings #keanuverse fic #keanuverse #x reader

84 notes · View notes

corrodedbisexual · 1 year ago

Text

Hear your heartbeat

Steddie | ~2.1k | T for this part | AO3 link w/Explicit part

Nurse in training Steve is hanging out with Eddie in his room, trying to talk him into helping Steve practice the different ways of measuring a patient's heart rate.

"Please?" He pouts, making the best use of what Eddie often calls his big dumb doe eyes. "We're finally getting trained on real patients next week, and I just don't wanna look like a total loser. Everyone's been practicing on someone back at home."

It's not exactly a lie, per se. It's just that Eddie doesn't need to know Steve's already spent weeks practicing on Robin.

(She let him run a full physical on her, anything that didn't involve needles. He even, with permission of course, checked her breasts for lumps through a training bra: something he felt awkward about at first, but in the end, it wasn't weird at all. It didn't feel one bit sexual. Apparently, when you grow out of your perpetually horny teenage stage, boobies by default are just another normal human body part. It was an interesting revelation.)

But you see, Steve has a theory. One that he's not completely convinced of, even though Robin keeps insisting it's 100% solid. But if there's a way to be completely sure... would be pretty stupid not to use it.

Eddie laughs at first, like he thinks Steve's joking; when Steve takes the stethoscope out of his bag and raises an eyebrow, he falls silent, then sits up on the bed and shrugs.

"Uh, okay, sure. Go ahead."

Smiling triumphantly, Steve sits on the bed next to Eddie and reaches for his hand, pulling it into his lap. Eddie flexes his fingers briefly, then stills.

Steve begins by pressing his thumb against the pulse point and counting as he watches the seconds ticking by on Eddie's wristwatch. 76 is slightly higher than the average, but everyone's got a different resting heart rate, after all. It doesn't mean anything. He needs more data.

Letting go of Eddie's wrist, Steve turns a bit to place his hand on his friend's neck. He feels Eddie swallow against his palm, but otherwise, Eddie keeps still, eyes darting between Steve's face and some point behind his shoulder.

Steve presses two fingers against the carotid artery on Eddie's neck. After half a minute, Steve multiplies by two and pauses to think. Eddie stays perfectly still, no movement to justify the increase to 90.

A flicker of hope lights up in Steve's chest, but a stubborn part of his mind keeps playing devil's advocate. Maybe it's the cigarette Eddie smoked just a few minutes ago? Steve tries to remember what he read about the effects of nicotine on the body. He doesn't recall the exact numbers, but yeah, that could be it.

"Can you lift up your shirt for me?" He asks, putting in the earpieces of his stethoscope. Eddie chuckles awkwardly, looking down, then mutters something inaudible through an exhale, and complies.

Steve presses the chest piece to the left pectoral; Eddie inhales sharply and jerks away, but then leans back in, giggling.

"Sorry. S'cold."

"That's okay." Steve grins. "But stop laughing, I can't hear anything".

"Sorry," Eddie says again, biting his lower lip, and the chuckles die down.

Steve closes his eyes so he can focus on listening instead of looking. He realizes immediately the spot is wrong, the sound of Eddie's breathing drowns out his heart, but Steve keeps listening for a moment anyway. He shifts his hand a bit to the right, his pinky finger brushing the nipple; an honest accident. There's a quick, sharp inhale in his ears, a pause, and then the rustle of clothing as Eddie's shirt slips out of his fingers and falls over Steve's hand.

"Shit, sorry," Eddie mumbles another apology, lets out an awkward laugh as he scrambles to lift his shirt again. "Maybe you should have picked someone less clumsy."

I don't wanna pick anyone else, Steve doesn't say, placing his other hand to the right of Eddie's chest, fingertips pressing against the bunched up cotton to keep it up. Another hitch in Eddie's breathing. Steve bites back a smile and moves the stethoscope further towards the center of his chest.

He can still hear the background whooshing of the lungs, but mostly, it's now the rhythmic thudding of the heart valves opening and closing. Steve's heard it a bunch of times by now, and yet it keeps fascinating him. The ultimate proof of life, something akin to magic, even though he knows all the science behind it. The sound he shed tears over finally hearing, almost a year ago, as he pressed his ear directly to Eddie's bloody chest, after long and desperate minutes of CPR.

Steve absentmindedly traces the edge of a scar beneath his thumb at the memory. He looks down at Eddie's watch; he doesn't really need to, so accustomed to the rhythm now that he's already aware the brief silences between the thuds in his ears got even shorter. Still, he lets the full 60 seconds tick by as he counts 102 beats.

Steve looks up. Eddie's looking to the side, his expression clearly aiming for indifference, almost boredom. Only Eddie doesn't look like that when he's bored. He fidgets, taps his foot, rolls his eyes, rubs his face, keeps looking around the room for anything to entertain him. Steve had enough classes with Eddie in high school to know.

Noticing Steve's staring, Eddie flicks his eyes towards him, a strange, forced smile on his lips. Steve can barely hear his words through the thudding in his ears.

"So, what's the diagnosis, Nurse Harrington? Am I going to live?"

Steve doesn't reply right away, eyes flicking between Eddie's and mentally flipping the pages of his class notes. Causes of pupil dilation: light (the room's lighting the same as when they started), certain medications and drugs (Eddie didn't take any), eye or brain injury (thankfully not), and...

Oh. Oh.

Oh, thank god.

Steve removes the ear pieces, hooking the stethoscope around his neck and removing his hands from Eddie's chest. Eddie lets go of his shirt, too, and it drops down over his torso.

"Well." Steve takes a deep breath and looks Eddie straight in the eye, a playful smile on his lips. "Your resting heart rate is definitely elevated for your age. Your breathing rate is abnormal. Your pupils are slightly dilated. Oh, and you keep doing that, too," he says as Eddie visibly swallows. He puts his hands on Eddie's neck again and presses his fingers down, moving in tiny circles, feeling the shape of the glands.

"Your throat doesn't hurt, does it?" Eddie shakes his head, still staring at Steve like a deer in the headlights. "Well then," Steve stops pressing down, just lets his hands rest on Eddie's neck. "My professional medical opinion would be…" His eyes flick down to the lips; Eddie licks them. "You're attracted to me."

"W-what?" Eddie jerks back, Steve's hands falling off his neck. Eddie's brows furrow. "Jesus Christ, Steve. What the hell."

Steve giggles, despite feeling a little bad, because Eddie looks almost panicked. But he gets stupid when he's nervous, can't help it.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He reaches for Eddie's hand and pulls. "Come back here."

"Why?" Eddie frowns, his tone cautious.

"Cos you're too far away to kiss." He watches Eddie's eyes widen.

"What?" Eddie all but squeaks.

"I've got a serious case of Crush-on-Munson disease." Steve presses his hand to his chest dramatically, struggling not to laugh.

Eddie's face shifts through several different expressions, settling on utter bewilderment. "Huh?!"

"Might be deadly," Steve tries to say seriously, but he can't stop grinning at this point. "There's only one known cure. You gotta save me, Eddie."

"What the fuck," Eddie mutters, the corners of his lips slowly lifting; a hysterical giggle escapes his lips, then another, and then he drops his head, shaking with silent laughter.

Steve shuffles closer, and Eddie doesn't move away; the opposite, in fact, curling in towards him and resting his forehead against Steve's shoulder as he groans.

"You're a dork." Eddie lifts his head, tilted to the side, as if studying Steve's face. His smile is beautiful. Steve can't resist leaning in and pressing his lips against it.

Eddie gasps against his mouth, but responds immediately, his whole body coming alive, arms around Steve's waist, leg thrown across his lap, getting closer, closer, until their chests are pressed together.

Suddenly, Eddie breaks the kiss and narrows his eyes at Steve, feigning annoyance.

"I can't believe you tricked me with the whole 'playing nurse' thing."

Steve laughs, pulls him in by the back of his neck, and kisses him again.

A kinky follow-up on AO3

#steddie #steddie fic #misha-bawlins fanfic #they are such dorks in love help

144 notes · View notes

sweaterkittensahoy · 5 months ago

Text

Okay, Chick waking up in the hospital after his gall bladder removal, and he was basically insensible for three or four days because that's what happens when morphine is the only major painkiller.

And Jack seems to to be working on some crochet project. And Chick knows Jack crochets. But it takes another day for him to be unfucked enough to look at it and go, "Is that a bra?"

"Yes."

"Why the fuck are you crocheting a bra?"

"I ran out of options."

And Chick falls back asleep thinking that sounds ridiculous, but then over the next several days of being conscious or fucked out of his gourd on morphine, he realizes two things:

Jack crochets VERY FAST.

Jack really DID run out of patterns because all he has is "make do and mend" patterns that are about using scraps, and even getting his hands on cotton/pattern for something like a bra (which requires more than 1 oz total for a single project) was a hell of a scrounge. (Jack swapped projects with a nurse. He can knit but hates it. She wanted a new bra. He's making the bra; she's making him a new vest (getting wool for servicemen projects is much easier than getting cotton for bras). His skills at bras get around, and by the time Chick leaves the hospital, he and Jack both have new vests and new socks, and Jack's whipped up six new bras.

#jackharding #gayle are you making jack a crocheter because you are a crocheter who makes vintage shit #yes obviously #jack kidd #chick harding #also i think jack would hate knitting because it's all live stitches #and he prefers a project he can drop and not lose stitches

8 notes · View notes

helenaheissner · 11 months ago

Text

Love During Robot Fighting Time: Chapter 7

Hello, lovelies! Hope y'all are doing well :)

Don't forget you can read three chapters ahead on this story, twenty chapters ahead on "A Dream of Summer Rain", and two chapters ahead on "Magical Girl Exorcist Squad", by becoming a paid subscriber on my Substack or my Patreon!

Thank you so much for your continued support of my work! Every little bit helps me to keep going :)

And now, back to our regularly scheduled nerdy romcom shenanigans!

***

Faith

I kept time with the metronome as I pirouetted around my living room. I’d decided early on in my transition that I wanted to be more graceful, and ballet had seemed like a good way to accomplish that while staying in shape. Murder on the feet, but so worth it- I was, if nothing else, of a marginal amateur level of talent, which was all I was asking for. So, each night, I donned my workout garb, moved the orange couch and brown coffee table a few feet so they pressed against the back wall, rolled up the white carpet that normally covered the linoleum floor, and put on the metronome and danced around the living room.

The tumblers clicked on the lock, and my front door opened to reveal my handsome, dashing, wonderful roommate and best friend entering the apartment.

I broke out of my pose and grabbed my towel off of the couch, blotting my sweaty face. “Hey!”

“Hi,” he said, taking off his suit jacket and sticking it in the coat closet that indented our apartment just to the left of the front door, hanging it alongside his leather jacket and my white overcoat.

“How’s it going?” I asked, switching off my metronome and pushing the couch and coffee table back into their normal positions in front of the plasma screen television.

“Oh, you know, it’s going,” Zeke said. “You have a good workout?”

“Yeah!” I said, trying my best to show off my winning smile. My orange sports bra and black tutu may not have been the most conventional ballet attire, but it did show off my abs, something I was very eager to do now that I had them.

Dancing didn’t just help me get in shape and feel that sweet, sweet gender euphoria, either- it gave me a great opportunity to be alone with my thoughts and actually THINK them. And that evening, I’d come to two conclusions: one, my friendship and working relationship with Zeke was too important to risk destroying by asking him to be my boyfriend out of the blue, at least not when I had no idea if he felt the same way as I did; two, I wanted him to make the first move. Maybe I was old-fashioned, but the idea of the guy being the one to escalate the relationship from non-romantic to romantic really appealed to me. Plus, if I put out hints that I liked him, was a bit more flirty and forward than usual, and he slowly cottoned on to what I was getting at and then asked me out, then it would all be perfect. And if he didn’t pick up on the hints, or just wasn’t interested, I had plausible deniability. It was an immaculate plan, totally fool-proof.

I put a hand on my hip and leaned forward to show off my modest boobs and toned abs and smooth legs. “How do I look?”

“Like you just worked out?” Zeke said, aiming for the fridge and retrieving his jug of cranberry juice. He reached into the liquor cabinet after that and pulled out the flask of vodka, then poured himself a shot of it mixed with a glass of cranberry juice.

‘ Oh. Right. I was sweaty and gross. “Good point. I should hit the shower. After that, wanna hang out?”

“Sure, sure,” he said, nursing his drink, swirling it around in his hands, staring at the wall.

“You okay, Zeke?” I asked, tilting my head.

“Hm? Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he said as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, looked at the screen, and chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Sorry, I’m just a little tired.”

“Oh?” I said. “What were you off doing? I never got a chance to ask you before you left.”

“Oh, just hanging out with a friend.”

“Who?”

“Calloway,” he said.

My eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry, what?”

He took a long sip of his drink. “What?”

“Why were you hanging out with him?” I said, folding my arms over my chest and shrinking in on myself a bit.

“Calloway texted me asking if I wanted to watch Gundam. I said yes, because I’m tired of all the weird hostility between us. And because I like Gundam,” Zeke said simply. “Honestly, Calloway is pretty cool outside of the ring.”

“Oh,” I said, taking a step back. “Fair enough. I… You can do what you want, but I’m probably not gonna hang out with him any time soon. You know that, right?”

“I mean, you two actually have more in common then you might think-”

“I… Am not crazy about that comparison, but if you say so, sure,” I said, taking another step back, pivoting left from the kitchen towards the hallway that led to the rest of our apartment. Finally, I turned around and went for the bathroom. “Glad you had fun, though. Seriously. You can never have too many friends. I’m gonna hop in the shower now.”

“Sounds good, Faithy,” he said, and he flashed that smile, and for a second everything was fine.

Everything was fine, fine, fine, fine, FINE.

I showered, put my hair up in a towel, and wrapped a bathrobe around myself as I stepped out into the living room, where I found Zeke texting again while smiling that smile of his. The one that I knew wasn’t for me and me alone, but that I…

No, stop that, Faith, he doesn’t owe you anything, I thought. He’s a person, and he can make his own decisions about what he does with his free time.

Zeke and I wound up watching an old film noir that night, but I barely paid attention, and he was texting the entire time, smiling and chuckling every time his phone buzzed from a new message. I didn’t need to ask who it was.

***

The week went by normally, all things considered. Zeke and I worked on Dai Guren during the days, hung out and watched movies at night. Nothing was wrong, per se, but he was just always texting, and whenever I asked who he was talking to, he had the same answer:

Calloway.

The one thing I found odd was that, despite the two clearly being close friends now (apparently), he always referred to Calloway by his last name. Never his first. And yeah, sometimes guys just did that, even with close friends, but even when he’d thought I was a guy Zeke called me by my first name.

I tried to just keep it, keep him, out of my mind. Who Zeke spent his free time with was his business, and everyone needs more than one friend. I mean, I only needed one, but other people, yeah, they require multiple outlets for social engagement. And if Zeke and I were gonna start dating- which was not a guarantee, obviously, just something I’d really really really like to happen- then he would need a new platonic best friend. And I may not have been crazy about Keith Calloway, but hey, Zeke could do worse. Could be Olivia.

Olivia. I had to go up against her in less than a week. I wasn’t crazy about that, but if nothing else, it might be a bit cathartic to defeat her.

On Thursday morning, the day before our match, I decided to do a bit of shopping. I’d just gotten my monthly stipend from my parents- they were still a little iffy on the whole trans thing, still occasionally misgendered me and then immediately corrected themselves but got annoyed at me when I tired to correct them. But they were trying, and that was the important part. And hey, when both your folks are in the Army Corps of Engineers, wanting to build fighting robots for money is far from the worst thing you can do with your early twenties. I’ll get a real job someday- right now, though, I’m still figuring myself out. No reason I can’t do something I love while I do that.

Zeke was passed out on the living room couch clutching his beloved baby seal plushie, Lacus. I jotted down where I was going and when I intended to be back on a sticky note and put it on his forehead. He didn’t wake up- the man slept like a rock, it was almost impressive- and I headed out.

I cruised down Lincoln in the Star-Rocket Racer, weaving in and out of traffic as I headed for Venice. The best shops were in Santa Monica, but the more affordable and more trans-friendly ones tended to be in Venice. The air was warm with early-summer heat, the sky was clear and blue for miles, and the narrow street was uncrowded thanks to the just-shy-of-midday hours. The salty smell of the nearby ocean wafted through the air on a gentle, cooling seabreeze, and the clean street packed with shops and storefronts nearly sparkled in the sunlight. I wore my favorite off-white sleeveless sundress with a sunflower pattern, along with strappy wedge-heel sandals, a wide-brimmed black sun-hat, and a string of pearls around my neck that my mom had gifted me as a coming out present. I’d gone for a natural makeup look that day, subtle eyes and pink lipstick and just enough foundation to cover up my razor burn. My black cat purse was slung over my shoulder as I sauntered down the street, humming an Olivia Rodrigo song as I looked in the store windows.

At the end of the street, I found a shop called ‘Surf Turf Apparel.’ Palm trees enclosed both sides of the brick store, and in the window was the most adorable green swing dress with white polka dots I’d ever seen. It looked a bit big for me (pros and cons of being hilariously short- thanks, hilariously short parents), but I could at least ask if they had anything more in my size. If not… I dunno, I could try shortening it myself. I’d always wanted to learn how to sew.

I stepped inside and looked around- they had a lot of great dresses in here! Every style and color and fabric I could name, and plenty I couldn’t, hung from mannequins, harkening to eras as far back as the 1950s. At least one dress was there to represent each decade in the history of American fashion, standing proudly amidst the more standard beach apparel and SO MANY GORGEOUS HATS! I’d never been more in love with a shop this quickly! They had everything!

From the back of the store came an unnaturally high voice, what sounded like someone putting on a traditional female tone, perhaps someone, like me, who didn’t naturally speak in a feminine register. “Hi there!”

Poor thing- I’d gotten a bit better since I’d started doing vocal exercises on the daily. Maybe I could give her a few pointers.

I looked at the source of the voice as she continued speaking, “Welcome to Surf Turf Apparel! How may I…”

The voice trailed off as I looked at the person behind the counter. We made eye contact. Prolonged eye contact. Prolonged, unblinking, silent eye contact. It was incredibly awkward. But when someone you low-key hated surprised you in a manner this thorough, it was hard not to be speechless and equally hard to look away.

Calloway stood behind the wooden counter wearing a short-sleeved v-neck burgundy blouse, a golden butterfly necklace, and a full face of makeup- dark eyeshadow and red lipstick and very bold mascara. Her light brown hair was put up in a high but loose ponytail, with freshly-curled ringlets dancing about loosely on the sides of her face. Her eyebrows looked like they’d been freshly tweezed that very morning. It made her face look… Softer. Less aggressive. All of it together honestly made her look like a totally different person.

Was it ‘her?’ Should I be using ‘her’ for her? I should ask.

But that would require me to do something with my mouth besides let it hang open in shock. Calloway, for her part, still wasn’t saying anything or blinking either. I think I understood now why Zeke had been exclusively using her last name around me.

A tall, middle-aged woman (MILF, my brain automatically screamed) with long platinum hair, clad in a yellow A-line maxi-dress and flat white sandals, walked out from the back of the shop and said, “Close your mouth, Katie. Flies will nest. Also, you have a customer.”

“Hey, Mom, can I take my ten?” Calloway asked.

“Sure. You want me to handle this one?” her evident mother asked.

“Actually, Faith and I know each other, and we need to have a little talk.”

I was too shocked to react to this, too shocked to even do anything when Calloway… Katie, apparently… Grabbed me by the arm and shepherded me outside and into the alleyway next to what was APPARENTLY her family’s shop. Because of course it freaking was.

“Okay,” I started, “So-”

“I’m not trans!” Calloway said, in that practiced high pitched voice of hers.

I blinked. “Uh-huh. Right.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“I shouldn’t say.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not something you should have other people confirm for you,” I said. “And because I think all this speaks for itself, so if you’re too blind to see it, then that ain’t my fault.”

She raised a finger, then lowered it and looked at the ground. “That’s a fair point.”

“So,” I said, arms folded together. Her eyes were instantly drawn to my chest, at which point I looked down and realized the fold was putting my cleavage on display. I tucked my arms away behind my back hurriedly. “Anyway. Was there anything else you wanted to say to me, or was it really just that?”

Calloway… Katie, or maybe it was still Keith on some level (hard to say with eggs this dense), exhaled audibly and said, “I need you to keep this to yourself.”

“Yeah, of course,” I said with a nonchalant shrug.

“I mean it, Watanabe! I- wait, seriously, just like that?”

“Yeah, just like that,” I said, struggling to keep the monotone out of my voice. “Look, everything else that’s happened between us aside, I am not just gonna out somebody because of spite. I mean seriously, what kind of asshole do you take me for?”

She looked at me blankly, unblinking once more.

My eyes narrowed. “Oh my God, what kind of asshole do you take me for?!”

She let her mouth hang open for ten agonizingly long seconds before saying, “Is that a rhetorical question?”

“It was, yeah. But now it’s not!”

“I don’t think you’re an asshole! Okay, there! I said it. I just… Didn’t think you were gonna do me any favors because… Last time we talked, I… And you…”

I heaved a beleaguered sigh. “I… Uh, so about that-”

“I’m sorry for antagonizing you last season!” she suddenly shouted, stepping forward, grabbing my hands and squeezing them inside her own.

My pulse quickened and my jaw dropped. What the heck was going on?

She kept going: “I just… I liked playing to the crowd. I get way too into it, though, and I forgot what’s fun and hammy for me might be obnoxious and overbearing to other people. I’m sorry. I should have talked to you about this, to your whole team about this, last year, instead of going after you every time I was on camera. I’m sorry.”

She looked like she was on the verge of tears, sincerity and hope and despair radiating out from her very soul. Her blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight, her long lashes mesmerizing as she opened and closed her eyes rapidly. I could feel my face going red. Was I…

No, no. She was cute in a freshly-hatched way, sure, but I wasn’t attracted to her- it was just aesthetic appreciation.

“I forgive you,” I said, squeezing her hands back. “And I’m sorry for blowing up at you. I was… In a bad place. I’d just come out, and my girlfriend dumped me on the spot because of it.”

“Oh my God!” she said, finally releasing my hands from her grasp and putting them on her hips. Outraged painted over her face. “That’s horrible! That’s why she’s on a different team this year?!”

“Yup.”

“What a bitch!”

“Please don’t say that about my ex, I still care about her,” I said flatly.

“Right! Right, sorry. I just…”

“You get carried away sometimes. I get it.”

“And you’re going up against her this week?”

“Yup,” I said. “First match of the night, no less.”

“Ooof,” Katie said. I figured I should just call her that- seemed safest. “I’m going up against Haverfield and Ansible.”

“Ugh, I hate that guy,” I said.

“Big same.”

“Kick his ass for me?” I asked.

She stood at attention and gave a salute, of the kind so formal it would make my parents proud. “Gotta make things up to you somehow.”

“Hey come on, I didn’t mean it like that-”

“Yeah, but I do,” Katie said. “I’m tired of being the jerk. But if I’m going up against another jerk… Well, I’ll feel less bad about it. Also, I… I wanna be friends with Zeke. And since you two are besties… Well, you and I should probably learn to coexist.”

I smiled. She was so… Sincere, so earnest. It was really surprising. She was also much cuter like this, so that probably helped disarm me a bit. “Fair enough! To co-existence.”

“Here, here!” she said, extending a hand.

We shook, and I’ll admit, I was taken aback by how firm her grip was. She was definitely intense, definitely a lot, but… Maybe she and I could be friends.

***

Buy my ebooks here:

10 notes · View notes

lebustiere · 8 months ago

Text

Empower Your Femininity: A Guide to Women's Lingerie for Every Mood and Occasion

Introduction:

Women's lingerie isn't just about enhancing physical beauty; it's a celebration of femininity, confidence, and self-expression. From everyday comfort to special occasions, choosing the right lingerie can uplift your mood and boost your confidence. At Le Bustiere, we understand the importance of finding lingerie that suits your body, mood, and occasion. Let's delve into a guide on how to empower your femininity through the perfect selection of women's lingerie.

Everyday Comfort:

Start your lingerie journey with pieces that prioritize comfort without compromising style. Seamless bras and soft cotton panties are perfect for daily wear. Our collection offers a range of colors and styles to match your preferences and ensure all-day comfort, whether you're at work or relaxing at home.

Sensual Elegance:

For moments when you want to feel sensual and alluring, indulge in luxurious lace lingerie. Delicate lace bras and matching panties not only enhance your curves but also evoke a sense of confidence and sophistication. Choose from a variety of designs, from classic black lace to vibrant hues, to reflect your unique style.

Active Lifestyle:

Women leading an active lifestyle need lingerie that provides support and flexibility. Sports bras with moisture-wicking fabric and breathable materials offer the perfect blend of comfort and functionality. Whether you're hitting the gym or practicing yoga, our sports lingerie collection ensures you stay comfortable and confident throughout your workout.

Special Occasions:

Make every special moment unforgettable with exquisite lingerie designed for romance and intimacy. From elegant satin chemises to provocative babydolls, our collection features sensual pieces that ignite passion and desire. Indulge in luxurious fabrics, intricate details, and flattering silhouettes to create unforgettable memories.

Maternity and Nursing:

Pregnancy and motherhood are beautiful journeys that deserve comfortable and supportive lingerie. Our maternity and nursing lingerie range offers bras with adjustable straps, soft cups, and stretchy fabric to accommodate your changing body. Stay comfortable and stylish throughout your pregnancy and breastfeeding journey with our specially designed lingerie.

Conclusion:

Embrace your femininity with confidence and style through the perfect selection of women's lingerie. At Le Bustiere, we believe that every woman deserves lingerie that not only looks beautiful but also makes her feel empowered. Explore our diverse collection to find lingerie for every mood and occasion, and celebrate your unique femininity with elegance and grace.

#womens lingerie #bras #plus size

2 notes · View notes

traveling-and-wandering · 2 years ago

Text

The United Islands - Getting Dressed

Step 1: Pants

So, pants are mostly woven cotton, wool, or linen (depending on climate). There's a belt that's sewn into the back, that's fed through loops at the side, and then tied secure at the middle of the stomach. Pants can be worn by anyone, but skirts are pretty much only by either women or the nomadic peoples in the desert. There isn't any wiring in the "bras", its more to keep the breasts secured to the chest for working women. Nursing mothers, older women, and those who work more sedentary jobs often don't wear them at all.

Step 2: Tunic

Tunics are unisex, mostly flax, cotton or wool, and is composed of one continuous piece of cloth that wraps around the back and pulled over the arms like one would put on a jacket or vest. They're held closed by a metal clasp (or several if the garment is long). Tunis come in all kinds of configurations, shapes, colors, and lengths. The most standard is often sleeveless, and goes down to a few inches past the bellybutton. There's often decorative stitching (usually yellow/orange or gold colored) along the sleeve seam, or the edges of the garment. Fancier tunics are often dyed or embroidered with flower or vine patterns using flax thread. Base colors most often include greens, yellows, oranges, reddish-browns, and cream.

Step 3: Belt

To add shape to the tunic, and further secure it, the outfit is most often completed with a wool or cotton belt. There's four usual styles for belts; the single band side knot, the double banded side knot, the back knot, and the front fold over.

And, there you have it! How to get dressed in the United Islands.

A few additional notes and disclaimers:

These outfits are assuming you're an average joe. What the very poor or very rich wear, what's considered formal or fancy, and the differences between hot and cold weather gear are probably going to be posts all on their own. But this is what your average citizen would be wearing on a day to day basis.

All of these different shapes can come in all of the colors displayed here. Some colors are only available to the aristocracy, but again, that'll be explored in another post.

Jewelry, accessories, and hairstyles will all probably be addressed in their own post as well!

#worldbuilding wednesday #fantasy worldbuilding #worldbuilding #ask blog #send me asks #ask box open #my art #digital art #worldbuilding ask blog #worldbuilding clothing #clothing design #fantasy clothing

2 notes · View notes

healingmamaco · 2 years ago

Text

Cesarean Labor & Postpartum Bag Essentials: Packing for C-Section

Preparing for a cesarean birth can be an overwhelming experience, but having a well-stocked cesarean labor & postpartum bag can make all the difference. After all, you'll want to be as comfortable as possible during your hospital stay and have everything you need for a smooth recovery at home.

In this blog, we'll go over the essential items you should pack in your bag, including comfortable clothing, essential items like breastfeeding pillows and abdominal binders, and tips for recovery. By preparing in advance and packing smart, you'll be able to focus on your recovery and bonding with your new little one.

Clothing

When packing for your hospital stay after a cesarean section, it's important to choose clothing that will be comfortable and gentle on your incision area.

Comfortable Clothing for the Hospital Stay

For the first few days after delivery, you'll likely be wearing a hospital gown, but it's still a good idea to pack some comfortable clothing for when you're feeling up to changing. Loose-fitting clothes made of soft, breathable materials like cotton or bamboo will be the most comfortable for you.

Clothes That Won't Rub Against the Incision

It's essential to pack clothes that won't rub against your incision area, as it can be quite painful. High-waisted pants or leggings are the best options, as they won't put pressure on the area. Avoid clothing with tight waistbands, zippers, or buttons that could irritate your incision. Also, it's best to avoid anything that requires you to bend over, like shoes with laces or tight socks.

Suggestions for What to Wear During Recovery

Your recovery period after a c-section delivery can be uncomfortable, so it's important to pack clothes that are both comfortable and practical. Maxi dresses and loose tops are a great option as they won't put any pressure on your incision. You may also want to consider packing some comfortable nursing bras that offer good support.

Essential Items

Recovering from a c-section delivery requires some extra care and attention, and having the right essential items packed in your hospital bag can help make your recovery more comfortable. Here are some items to consider:

Breastfeeding Pillow

Breastfeeding can be challenging after a c-section, as it may be uncomfortable to hold your baby in the traditional cradle position. A breastfeeding pillow can provide much-needed support for your baby while keeping pressure off your incision.

Abdominal Binder

An abdominal binder can be a game-changer in terms of comfort and pain management during c-section recovery. By stabilizing your incision, it can help reduce pain and provide support as you move around. Talk to your doctor or midwife about when and how to use an abdominal binder.

Toiletries and Personal Care Items

Basic personal care items like toothpaste, soap, shampoo, and deodorant are essential for your hospital stay. Pack your favorite items to help you feel refreshed and clean after surgery. You may also want to pack a hairbrush or hair ties to keep your hair out of your face during recovery.

Entertainment Items

Recovery from a c-section can involve some downtime, so pack some entertainment items to help pass the time. Books, magazines, crossword puzzles, and movies or TV shows downloaded onto your phone or tablet are all good options.

Nursing Bras and Pads

If you plan to breastfeed your baby, you'll need nursing bras and pads to protect your clothes from leaks. Nursing bras provide easy access to feeding, and nursing pads can help prevent discomfort and infection.

Pillow and Blankets

Hospital pillows and blankets can be uncomfortable or inadequate for some people, so bringing your own can make a big difference in your comfort level. A familiar pillow from home can help you sleep better, and a cozy blanket can provide extra warmth and comfort.

By packing these essential items, you'll be well-prepared for a smooth and comfortable c-section recovery.

Recovery Tips

C-section recovery can be challenging, but with the right approach, you can make it easier and more manageable. Here are some tips to help you through the recovery process:

Rest and Relaxation

Rest and relaxation are essential to the healing process, so make sure to take it easy and get plenty of sleep. Don't be afraid to ask for help from your support system, whether it's your partner, family members, or friends. You'll need all the help you can get, especially during the first few weeks after your surgery.

Pain Management

Pain management is another crucial aspect of c-section recovery. Talk to your healthcare provider about the pain management options available to you, such as medications or non-medical alternatives like ice packs or warm compresses. It's also essential to take your pain medication on time and as prescribed to manage your pain effectively.

Getting Out of Bed and Walking

Getting out of bed and walking as soon as possible after your surgery is important for preventing blood clots and speeding up your recovery. However, it's crucial to take it slow and listen to your body. Start with short walks around your room or down the hallway and gradually increase the distance as you feel more comfortable.

Additional Tips

In addition to the tips mentioned above, there are some other things you can do to make your recovery more comfortable and manageable. For example, try to avoid lifting anything heavy or doing strenuous activities until your healthcare provider gives you the go-ahead. Also, make sure to eat a healthy diet, drink plenty of water, and take your prenatal vitamins as recommended.

Conclusion

Packing a cesarean labor & postpartum bag can be overwhelming, but it's an essential part of preparing for a c-section delivery. Make sure to include comfortable clothing, essential items like breastfeeding pillows and abdominal binders, toiletries and personal care items, and entertainment items.

Recovery tips like rest and relaxation, pain management, and gentle movement can also aid in a smooth recovery. By preparing in advance, you can focus on the most important thing - welcoming your new bundle of joy into the world with a well-packed cesarean labor & postpartum bag.

#postpartum kits #hospital bag for labor #labor bag #cesarean labor & postpartum bag

2 notes · View notes

micheljack24 · 1 day ago

Text

Top Trends in Couples' Intimate Wear

The world of couples' intimate wear is constantly evolving, with new trends emerging to enhance romance, connection, and self-expression. Whether you're exploring something playful or elegant, these top trends in couples' intimate wear cater to all preferences and styles. Here’s a look at what’s hot in the intimate wear market for couples today:

Matching Sets for Couples Coordinated intimate wear is a growing trend, as couples embrace matching pieces to create a sense of unity and playfulness. Matching Themes: From his-and-hers styles to gender-neutral options, brands now offer designs that match in color, fabric, or theme. Occasion-Based Sets: Think Valentine's Day, wedding nights, or holiday-themed designs.

Gender-Neutral Intimate Wear Inclusivity has taken center stage, and gender-neutral intimate wear is leading the way. These pieces focus on comfort and style, eliminating traditional gendered designs. Unisex Fabrics: Cotton, bamboo, and silk blends cater to all body types. Minimalistic Designs: Clean lines and neutral tones offer elegance and versatility.

Bold Colors and Prints While classic black and white remain staples, vibrant colors and bold prints are trending. Neon and Jewel Tones: Electric blues, emerald greens, and rich burgundies are dominating collections. Playful Patterns: Animal prints, polka dots, and floral lace add fun and flair.

Luxe Fabrics Couples are gravitating toward intimate wear made with high-quality, luxurious fabrics that feel as good as they look. Silk and Satin: Known for their smooth texture and sensual appeal. Mesh and Lace: Adds an element of allure while remaining breathable and lightweight. Velvet: A rising trend for its unique texture and elegant finish.

Customization and Personalization Personalized intimate wear allows couples to make their pieces truly unique. Monograms and Initials: Add initials, names, or meaningful quotes. Custom Sizing: Tailored pieces for a perfect fit, catering to all shapes and sizes.

Lingerie for Men Men's intimate wear has seen a significant shift, with brands designing pieces that balance functionality and sensuality. Lacy Boxers and Briefs: Traditionally associated with women’s lingerie, lace is now trending in men’s designs. Silk Robes: Perfect for lounging or setting a romantic mood. Harnesses and Accessories: Adding bold, edgy options to men’s intimate wear.

Roleplay-Inspired Wear Costume-themed intimate wear is gaining popularity among couples looking to add creativity to their relationship. Fantasy Costumes: Think nurse, firefighter, or superhero themes. Subtle Accessories: Masks, chokers, and cuffs to complement the look.

Functional Intimate Wear Practical yet stylish designs are trending, catering to couples who value comfort without compromising aesthetics. Wireless Bras and Seamless Underwear: For all-day comfort and invisibility under clothing. Moisture-Wicking Fabrics: Ideal for those who prioritize breathability and durability.

Eco-Friendly Intimate Wear Sustainability has become a priority, with couples embracing intimate wear made from eco-friendly materials. Organic Fabrics: Bamboo, organic cotton, and recycled lace are increasingly popular. Sustainable Packaging: Many brands now use biodegradable or reusable packaging.

Tech-Enhanced Intimates Innovative technology is entering the intimate wear space, offering couples unique experiences. Wearable Tech: Intimates with built-in sensors for warmth or subtle vibrations. Glow-in-the-Dark Designs: Fun and whimsical options for adventurous couples.

Bridal-Inspired Intimate Wear Bridal and honeymoon collections continue to be a key trend, offering romantic and timeless pieces for couples celebrating milestones. Sheer White and Pastels: Soft, delicate hues dominate this category. Delicate Details: Pearls, ribbons, and floral embroidery add elegance.

Athleisure-Inspired Intimates Combining the functionality of activewear with the sensuality of lingerie, this trend is perfect for couples who value comfort and versatility. Sports Bras with a Twist: Lacy, supportive bras that double as workout gear. Crossover Pieces: Bodysuits and bralettes that work for both casual outings and intimate settings.

Playful Accessories Accessories like garters, suspenders, and stockings are making a comeback, adding versatility to intimate wear collections. Stocking Trends: Fishnets, thigh-highs, and lace trims. Statement Belts and Jewelry: Subtle yet impactful ways to elevate any look.

Cultural and Vintage Influences Vintage and globally-inspired designs are bringing a nostalgic yet modern twist to intimate wear. Retro Styles: High-waisted panties, corsets, and garter belts inspired by the 1950s and 60s. Cultural Prints: Designs inspired by traditional art from various regions, like Asian or African patterns.

Subscription Boxes For couples who want to explore intimate wear regularly, subscription services offer curated boxes filled with trendy pieces. Seasonal Updates: Keeps your wardrobe fresh with the latest trends. Surprise Element: Adds excitement and anticipation to your intimate life.

Final Thoughts Couples' intimate wear is no longer just about looks; it’s about celebrating individuality, fostering connection, and adding excitement to relationships. By exploring these trends, you can find pieces that resonate with your style and enhance your bond.

0 notes

prachicmi · 25 days ago

Text

Abdominal Pads: Meet The Growing Demand Of Comfort And Protection

History and Evolution of Abdominal Pads The use of abdominal pads can be traced back to ancient times when primitive alternatives were used for feminine hygiene and protection. However, it was only in the 1970s when companies like Tampax and Stayfree started mass producing disposable pads specifically designed for use during menstruation. Since then, the design and materials used in making abdominal pads have evolved greatly to suit modern needs. They now come in different sizes, shapes and absorbencies to address different flows and lifestyles. The last few decades have seen the introduction of slimmer, less bulky pads. Abdominal Pads in wings were added to the sides to help the pad stay in place and prevent leakage. New materials like cotton, rayon, and super-absorbent polymers were incorporated to increase absorbency and comfort. With more women joining the workforce, compact, discreet pads suitable for active lifestyles also became popular. In recent times, organic and eco-friendly pads made without chemicals and plastic are gaining ground due to rising health and sustainability concerns. Categories and Uses of Modern Abdominal Pads Today, abdominal pads cater to a wide range of uses beyond just menstruation. Here are some of the major categories: - Menstrual pads: These are thin flexible pads designed specifically to absorb menstrual blood flow. They come in light, regular and heavy absorbencies. - Postpartum pads: Usually thicker and more absorbent, these pads are meant for use after delivery to absorb lochia discharge and prevent infection during recovery. Some have soothing gels. - Incontinence pads: Designed to contain urine leakage, these heavy duty pads are absorbent yet discreet and come in different sizes for varied protection levels. - Ostomy pouches: Waterproof adhesive pouches are used with an ostomy appliance to collect output from a urinary or intestinal ostomy. They help maintain dignity. - Exercise pads: Thin sweat-absorbing pads stick onto underwear during physical activity to prevent chafing in sensitive areas. - Nursing pads: Soft, absorbent pads inserted into nursing bras soak up milk leaks during breastfeeding to keep breasts dry and comfortable. Health and Hygiene Benefits Using proper abdominal pads provides numerous comfort, health and hygiene benefits: - Absorbs and contains menstrual flow, lochia discharge, sweat, urine or ostomy output effectively to avoid soiling clothes. This helps maintain personal hygiene. - Prevents contact of bodily fluids with skin which can cause rashes and infections especially in sensitive regions. Pads create a protective barrier. - Keeps the user feeling fresh, dry and odor-free through the day. This boosts confidence and makes activities like exercise possible without worries. - Helps reduce laundry since pads are disposable unlike cloth pads or liners that need to be handwashed after every use. - Medical-grade pads near wounds, incisions or ostomy sites aid healing by protecting the area from pathogens and friction. Adapting to Evolving Consumer Needs Going forward, pad manufacturers need to innovate further to meet the unique needs of an evolving global consumer base. Some emerging trends in consumer expectations include: - Organic, eco-friendly pads devoid of toxic chemicals, plastics, dyes and chlorine bleaching that are safer period products. - Thinner maximally absorbent pads that stay discreet under even the tightest clothes for an unrestricted active lifestyle. - Pads in additional sizes between regular and super for variable flows and body types. - Technology-enabled smart pads with sensors to track menstrual health data over time for predictive insights. - Specially designed pads for developing countries providing low-cost protection as part of menstrual hygiene programs. With pads being a necessity worn by millions of women worldwide every day, companies delivering differentiated products catering to these futuristic demands will create more value and loyalty in the growing abdominal pads market.

Get more insights on, Abdominal Pads

About Author:

Vaagisha brings over three years of expertise as a content editor in the market research domain. Originally a creative writer, she discovered her passion for editing, combining her flair for writing with a meticulous eye for detail. Her ability to craft and refine compelling content makes her an invaluable asset in delivering polished and engaging write-ups.

(LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/vaagisha-singh-8080b91)

#Coherent Market Insights #Chronic wounds #surgical procedures #Sterile Abdominal Pads #Non-Sterile Abdominal Pads

0 notes