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j0kers-light · 4 months ago

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Okay that head canon about y/n getting sick and J worrying over her was precious 🥹 What if the tables were turned and J got bad sick and refused to take care of himself?

-🍄

My beloved 🍄 anon!! How I have missed you!

You stay providing me with amazing ideas! sick!reader was fun to write! So let’s explore a sick!Joker! This big baby… I’m gonna have fun with this one. 🖤✨as always enjoy enjoy!!

Joker does not get sick. He is far too busy to be bogged down with such a trivial thing as germs. Who do they think they are anyway?

Sure he's not superhuman but you would think all that time spent messing with chemicals and stuff would make him immune?

NOPE! Baby boy gets hit with the common cold and he’s out for weeks. It’s almost funny if not for the fact that Joker fighting for his life.

If only Batman knew a common cold could have J waving a white flag. 🥴

Unlike you Joker accepts rather quickly that he's sick and needs to sit his butt down somewhere.

That doesn't mean that decision is instantaneous. He ignores minor symptoms too. 🙄🙄

Like an itchy throat, watery eyes, a splitting headache. HE'S FINE. Joker powers through as if nothing is wrong. 👀 (sound familiar?)

Frost is the first to raise an eyebrow as the days progress and Joker doesn’t improve. He hints that J might be coming down with something only to be ignored. Frost tried to warn him.. 🤦🏾‍♀️

Just imagine Joker hosting a meeting like mid theatric speech and suddenly.. he sneezes.

Mac secretly took a video to send to you later because Joker looked too cute!

Joker and just about everyone in attendance was shocked at the comical (and adorable) sneeze that comes out this scary man.

👁️ 👄 👁️ them goons were shooketh girl lol

Joker threatens to murder anyone if they laugh but a snicker does escape when J sneezes again and almost bangs his head against the table (I'm fighting back tears anon! 🤣)

One glance at Frost has the meeting adjourned because they gotta drop Joker off at your place. He can't terrorize Gotham City like this!

That poor baby is a mess! Joker is sweating through his greasepaint, his nose is running like Usain Bolt, and he swears that Bane is punching him in the head. 😀 yup he’s sick.

It's time to go when Joker passes out in front of Frost, Mac, and Neo after one sneeze too many.

There's only one person they trust to look after Joker. Are you up for the challenge?

Frost is a big guy, but even he is struggling to carry Joker into your apartment. He called earlier explaining that Joker wasn't feeling too well so you left the front door unlocked.

You thought that meant Joker got hurt while out being a menace to society. That you could deal with. Some bandaids and a proper scolding, always did the trick.

You weren’t expecting Frost to dump your semi-unconscious lover onto your couch like a sack of potatoes. Joker looks almost unrecognizable and you fear the worst seeing how weak he is.

His hooded eyes take you in and a groggy, "Bunny.... I'm dying!" escapes his lips before you lock eyes with Frost.

"He has a cold."

😀 Lawd help us. If you thought Joker was a drama queen before Chile.. This grown man acts like a child staying home from school with pneumonia rather than a cold.

J has transformed himself into a blanket burrito with only his freckled face exposed. And he look so pitiful.

He can't breathe out of his nose anymore which has turned scarlet red since he doesn't use the tissues you bought him, (you yell at him to stop using his sleeves!) and he takes random naps as his immune system tries to fight off this infection. It’s doing a terrible job.

A common cold last a few days at most. A full week and a half later, and Joker is still in the trenches.

This is when you start to worry and take his illness more seriously.

Feed a cold, starve a fever so you work overtime to nurse your man back to health. You prepare the best homemade soups, arrange all the tv marathons J could ever want, you even sneak him medicine with tried and true motherly tactics.

J refused to take medicine so you cave and buy him jello, applesauce, pudding etc. as a compromise.

Little does he know, you crushed the pills inside 🤫 In short, you watch over Joker like a hawk.

He orders you to stay away stating, 'he doesn't want his Bunny getting sick' but in the same breath, he makes you cuddle with him on the couch. J falls asleep using you as his personal teddy bear and you are totally okay with that.

Anything to help him sleep and recover faster.

The worst phase comes along when you wrestle out of Joker’s arms to grab the thermometer, and his voice stops you in your tracks.

"Ma? Is... is that you?"

Joker is delirious and you shouldn't take advantage of him when he's so out of it but what's the harm in feeding into his delulu? Its not like he'll remember anyway..

You weakly smile and reply. "Hush baby, I'll be right back."

J begins another coughing fit and has air remaining to steal yours with a single sentence. "No, I don't wanna be alone."

He sounds so weak, like a child confessing their worst fears to an adult. What kind of person can ignore a plea like that? You can't that’s for sure.

You’ll check his temperature later. Right now, Joker needs you. You crawl back into Joker's arms and he immediately wraps them around you.

"Don't... l-leave." His voice is breaking your heart, he sounds so scared!

You smooth J’s hair away to cup his face. You washed away all the harsh makeup and sweat days ago so you’re free to admire his natural beauty in all its glory.

Even fighting a cold, he's so handsome looking up at you with those glassy eyes of his. You doubt he recognizes you right now. Only you are allowed to see Joker so vulnerable.

Only you can take care of him and it’s an honor you’ll never take for granted.

"I’m not going anywhere." You promise.

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rabidrabbit10 · 1 month ago

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A shit ton of Fnaf Movie headcanons for no reason at all

Abby excels at anything that requires creativity, not just drawing.

Vanessa absolutely despises Easter for some reason. She doesn't know why, but she always gets a sense of impending doom whenever Easter comes.

William hates summer because he's very sensitive to heat. He always has been. He almost passed out once because he took a shower and the water was too hot.

William used to be friends with one of or both of Mike's parents. William ended the friendship abruptly and never explained why.

Mike had Scarlet Fever when he was six and his parents had to take him to the hospital.

Mike is almost always cold. On especially cold days, he likes to cocoon himself in at least ten blankets to escape the cold.

At some point after the fnaf movie, Vanessa adopts a rabbit and names him Vinnie. Vinnie is evil incarnate and is likely planning world domination, but Vanessa is seemingly unaware of this and thinks he can do no wrong. Vinnie hates everyone... except Mike for some reason. Mike does not like Vinnie and is terrified of him.

Vanessa once asked Mike to pet-sit Vinnie. Mike initally said no... until Vanessa told him that she'd pay him. Mike spent most of that day hiding from a red eyed rabbit.

Speaking of pets, Mike dog-sat Bonsey for Maxine a few times. He felt bad for not being able to pay her for babysitting Abby so he offered to watch Bonsey when Maxine went out of town. He didn't mind, he actually got along well with Bonsey.

After Bonsey escapes the car, he was lost for a while before he eventually finds his way back to Maxine's house. He waits there for a while, but Maxine never came home. After another few days, Bonsey eventually finds Mike's neighborhood. Bonsey must've remembered how to get there from all the times Maxine would drive him over to Mike's house so he could watch him. Mike found him trotting down the sidewalk when he was walking to his usual spot by the culvert. He didn't immediately recognize the dog as Bonsey, but Bonsey recognized Mike. He followed Mike to the culvert and sat with him. Mike eventually spotted Bonsey's collar and put two and two together. Mike takes care of Bonsey now. It's an extra mouth to feed, but Bonsey was skin and bones when he found him and he would've felt bad letting him continue to starve.

Like Abby and Mike, Garret never liked his Aunt Jane. He always got the feeling that she thought he was annoying. She did, but she never directly told him that's what she thought of him.

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pixelatedraindrops · 8 months ago

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A little drabble scenario idea I put together for @snivyartjpeg’s Kokolight Vampire AU 💜💚🦇

To Care for a Sick Vampire

Yuma seems to be even more tired/weak than usual one day and Vivia notices that something is wrong with him. He asks him if he wants to feed on any of his blood to possibly re-energize him. But to Vivia’s surprise, Yuma refuses the offer outright.

“You look tired, Yuma… Are you…hungry? Do you need to feed? I will provide for you anytime you ask…”

“…No.”

This concerns Vivia but then he notices how pale and sickly Yuma looks, even more than usual. He puts his hand to Yuma’s cheek, but it wasn’t warm. Of course not, he’s a vampire. They probably don’t get fevers to begin with since vampire blood runs cold. But he definitely wasn’t well, that much was certain.

Vivia decides to slice the palm of his hand with his large boxknife he keeps in his pocket and places it in front of Yuma’s face.

“You…need to eat, Yuma… Even if it’s just a little bit…otherwise…you won’t feel any better…”

Yuma looks hesitant at first but then complies as the scent of Vivia’s blood does tempt his urges despite his weak state. He leans his head down slowly and weakly licks and laps the fresh cut on Vivia’s palm. He does it very slowly, but he has a small expression of relief. Even if he wasn’t well, he did still want to eat. But he didn’t want to consume large amounts of blood in this state, in his fear of possibly losing himself due to the weakness and sickly feeling that he felt.

He didn’t want to cause any further trouble for the agency, especially the Chief now that his secret was out to him. He also didn’t want to unexpectedly hurt anyone if his blood urges had gone out of control. It wasn’t safe for him to be blood drunk right now.

At least, that was his worry since he didn’t really understand how his vampiric urges worked due to his amnesia. But he didn’t want to take any chances if his current state wasn’t in good condition. He couldn’t risk causing any more trouble for everyone.

Even if that meant… starving himself.

Thankfully, this small amount of blood that Vivia provided for him seemed to suffice well enough. He stops lapping the cut, looking up to his tall human partner above him.

“…Thank you…Vivia…”

After a very small feeding, he transforms into his little lilac bat form and he tries to fly. But he was still too weak as he falls downward face down toward the floor. But Vivia catches him in his hands just in time.

“You’re too weak, Yuma… I will offer more to you…after you rest for a bit…”

Yuma spends the rest of the day resting/sleeping on Vivia’s hair/lap/shoulder/arms. The poor thing was trembling the whole time. And Vivia continued to feed Yuma very small amounts of his blood whenever he looked too weak, to which the tiny sickly bat would slowly lap up like a delicate little newborn kitten. Over time, Vivia ends up with multiple cuts on his left arm.

Later, Yakou enters the sub safely after seeing that the two were not doing anything TOO weird while they were alone. Seeing Yuma in bat form probably meant they were done. But then he looks to Vivia in shock noticing his left arm is covered in bloody self inflicted wounds.

“Vivia!? What happened to your arm?! Okay, what kind of crazy blood ritual did you two do this time?!”

Vivia gently places his right uninjured hand to where Yuma lay, and a soft weak sounding squeak came from the tiny little bat as he was touched. Yakou also settled his freakout down as he heard the weak bat’s cry.

“Yuma is…not feeling well so…I’m giving him only small amounts of my blood for now… But the blood of the cuts…don’t stay fresh forever…”

“Oh, I see… well that’s not good. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Just…leave Yuma to me, Chief…”

Yakou didn’t argue. After all, he had no idea how to care for a sick vampire.

“Okay, but don’t you dare die from blood loss, you hear me?!”

Vivia smiled without saying a word further.

It looked like it was now Vivia’s turn to look after and take care of his weak little vampire partner for the day. Time to repay the favor for all the times he looked after him.

~~~~~

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corazondebeskar-reads · 1 year ago

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well it's love, make it hurt - chapter six

well it’s love, make it hurt series

six: sometimes it just feels better to give in

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

dom!Din Djarin x sub!f!reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: You have cabin fever and a rough morning. The Mandalorian finds a way to cheer you up and pass the time while you travel across the galaxy.

Warnings: bdsm, d/s relationship, established relationship, dom!Din Djarin x sub!reader, soft dom!Din Djarin, kind of intense scene, domestic nonsense, hand feeding, spanking, one (1) pussy slap, oral (m receiving), oral (f receiving), 69, rope bondage, sex pollen (intentional, Din only), Din Djarin removes the helmet but doesn't reveal his face, subspace, aftercare, no y/n

Originally written for Kinktober 2023 - Day 8: Sex Pollen/Sexual Competition, inspired by @absurdthirst’s wonderful prompt list,

also on a03

3 ABY - Winter

It's day five of near-constant travel across the galaxy. You had worked on the way out, filling the carbonite, and now had nothing to do but return.

Yesterday, you had stopped for fuel and food. Taking the long range of bounties would pay off in the end; you had run the numbers, but for now, it meant things were a little tight. Mando never really lingered at the ports, but you hadn’t bothered to enjoy the market or the rusty crimson mountain range. The faster you got back, the faster you got paid.

It wasn’t as if you would starve. There were reserves; you both knew that. After it became clear neither of you were particularly interested in ending your arrangement, you shifted the way the profits were split in favor of a more communal fund for ship repairs, rations, and medicine. That budget was running low. But both Mando and you had your own caches of credits, earmarked for other purposes.

You regret the quick departure now. You wake up stiff and grouchy, like your body knew it missed out on a leisurely hike full of beautiful sights. After you drag yourself out of bed to stretch, you try to recover the day.

What for, though? There's nothing to do. You're over looking at the stars or the gray walls of the Crest. The datapad only held your attention for a minute or so before the tension in your chest built back up, and you tossed it to the side.

Getting out of bed proves to be another mistake. You burn your caf. When you try to dump it out, you spill a bunch on the floor and have to clean the whole galley to get the smell out. And when you go to rid yourself of the caustic odor and sticky residue, the fresher is exclusively sputtering cold water.

Fuck it.

You dry off and go back to the bunk, not bothering with clothes lest you rip your favorite shirt or trip and fall while putting on trousers. Seemed like the kind of thing that might happen.

You bury yourself in the covers and turn off the light, determined to sleep for the entire day and hope tomorrow was better.

Mando was elbow-deep in the wiring for most of the morning. A long trip was a good chance to update some of the non-critical systems. He was vaguely aware that you were up and puttering around the ship, and as much as he wanted to take a break and greet you, he knew he’d never be able to finish the job.

By the time he finishes and cleans up, securing the panel back to the wall, a couple hours have passed. But you aren’t in the hull eating lunch or fixing your jammed pistol. You aren’t curled up in your chair with a book. Even the refresher is empty (to his slight disappointment. He would have enjoyed the show).

It was unlike you to go back to bed. A deep frown settles as he makes his way to the bunk, and there you are, curled up on your side against the wall. He runs a bare hand up and down your leg, and you stir a little.

“Cyare, you okay?” he says.

“Uh-huh.” It was more of a groan than anything else.

“Are you sick?” His hand tightens a little on your calf, brow furrowing as he reaches up to feel your forehead.

You bat him away (or, at least, he thinks that's what you attempted to do. It was more of a weak flop of your hand before it fell back on the bed). “Nuh-uh. Sleepy. Bad morning.”

He settles on the edge of the bed. “Anything I can do for you, cyar’ika?”

“Nuh-uh. Lemme sleep.”

“Okay.” He sighs and slips back out of the bunk, but leaves the door open. The idea of closing you in there made something grind in his sternum.

He lets you sleep for another hour while he takes a quick rinse in the fresher before preparing a bit of lunch—or, technically, breakfast. Neither of you have eaten yet. At the market yesterday, while you were meticulously restocking and haggling with shopkeepers (he could practically see the credit-per-meal calculations crunching in your head), he had slipped a wrap of boiled tipyip, a crusty loaf of bread, fresh tubers, and a few fruits into the bag. With his own coin, of course, and insisted on carrying the bag.

The idea of you stressing over whether or not you’d have enough food made him physically ill. He trusted you to buy enough rations, but it was unusual for you not to buy at least a few fresh items. You were going to be on the ship for another four days.

Before working together, you had both lived that way. Bounty to bounty, ration to ration. But half the point of taking a partner was to have a better life. And while most of his credits went to making sure his people all had better lives, it hadn’t taken long to soften up with you around. He wanted to be soft with you around, or you’d spend every moment flinching away from the thorns you’d made your nest from.

Osik, he’d done the same thing, but he had the armor. The armor he’d been wearing a lot less lately. The past month or so, he found himself shedding everything but the helmet while you traveled. Never on land or at port, but hurdling through the frigid vastness, he preferred to feel your warmth.

Mando eats while he makes your plate and then, slipping his helmet back into place, climbs into the bed. He settles behind you and wakes you.

“S’it morning?” you mumble.

“No, but it’s time to get up.”

“No,” you whine and cover your head with the blanket.

He shakes his head, grinning beneath the mask. “I’m not asking, cyar’ika.”

You pull the blanket down to your nose and look up at him with big, sad eyes.

“Stop that,” he tugs at the blanket, “or are you trying to be a brat?”

You shake your head.

“C’mere,” he says, patting his lap. You scoot up so your back is against his chest.

“Open,” he says.

You obey immediately, but furrow your brows and strain your head back a little to see what he's up to, given that you are very much not in range of his cock.

He presses a berry into your mouth, which doesn’t seem to clear anything up for you, as you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Eat, cyar’ika,” he says, running a finger over your bottom lip.

You close your eyes for a moment as the juicy berry bursts on your tongue, and then you sit up and whip around to look at him. “Hey—” you started to scold.

“It didn’t come out of the budget,” he says, pulling you back down by the shoulder. A wave of affection spreads as you let him rearrange your body, despite your irritation.

You open your mouth to argue, but he fills it with a slice of longfruit before you can make a sound. You bite down on it like you wished it was his flesh, narrowing your eyes in challenge.

“I’m allowed to spend my credits however I’d like,” he reminds you, pressing a piece of stew-soaked bread to your lips just in case you got any ideas about speaking again. “If I want to spoil you, I can spoil you.”

You cross your arms across your chest but open your mouth willingly for the next bite. He brings his idle arm around yours, basking in the way you loosen a little, forehead smoothing over and exhaling softly.

“That’s it, cyar’ika, just let me take care of you.”

Once you had eaten a decent helping of everything, he brings his other arm around you and closes his eyes, resting his helmet in the crook of your neck.

“Are you still hungry?” he murmurs after a few moments of peace.

You shake your head. You're pleasantly full, warmed by the stew, and feeling lighter from the fresh meal. “Did you eat?”

He nods against your shoulder, wiggling you a little so you're nestled between his long legs, and sighs softly. You take the cue to close your eyes and lean your head against his chest, content to go back to sleep.

You should have known he had other plans when his hands started wandering, but to be fair, it was rare that you lay together without him idly fonding you. It didn’t always lead to anything; he just liked to keep you in a near-constant state of arousal through teasing.

“That way,” Mando had purred in your ear once when you whined, “you’re always wet and ready for me, cyar’ika. That way, I can just… bend you over and slide right in.”

You had nearly cum at the thought alone, and so, he continued to be an absolute menace.

Now, he helps himself to handfuls of your breasts and lazily rolls each nipple between a thumb and forefinger. You concentrate on your breathing, having learned well enough that if you let yourself get worked up too soon, he was more likely to laugh and walk away, to let you marinate in it until you were begging for him.

“Cyar’ika,” he says, pitched low and dangerous in a way that never fails to make you feel like prey. Uh-oh.

“Yes, sir?”

He grins at the tell-tale waver in your voice. “I’d like to try something.”

“Oh no,” you breathe, shuddering.

“Oh no?” he says. “You don’t want to try something? Is that why your poor, empty cunt is dripping all over the bed?”

You whimper and bury your face in your hands. He pries them away immediately, holding both wrists in one hand.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, sir,” you say, knowing how he hated it when you hid from him. You're squirming, now, and can feel his hard cock against your lower back.

“What do you say, cyar’ika? Can I use you? I think you’ll like it.”

You nod without hesitation, despite the way your heart rabbits against your ribcage. You had enjoyed everything he's done so far, but every time he starts with “I’d like to try something,” it usually involves something very intense.

“Let me help you forget all about your bad day.” His hand slides down to your cunt, and your hips buck involuntarily, trying to reach him. He snatches his hand away and laughs. “Be patient,” he warns, before cracking his hand down against your pussy.

You yelp and whine, a pout turning your lips down.

“None of that, sweetheart, or do we need to start with a spanking?” He's teasing, but you hesitate. “We can, if that’ll help.”

You nod, your hands twisting at the sheets to keep them from obscuring his view as you flush from your ears to your chest.

“Such a good girl, telling me what you need. Lay across my lap,” he scoots so his back is flush with the wall. He’s so proud he doesn’t even make you beg for it.

As you settle, he strokes the soft skin of your back, one broad hand splayed across your shoulder blades. “Count for me, baby,” he says before bringing his hand down across your ass.

The strikes are firm but not sharp. Your count comes out in soft moans. He watches as your skin reddens a little, the way your plump flesh bounces. His cock is straining against its linen prison. It was going to have to wait a while, too. He had too much self-control, and it certainly wouldn’t be fair to you if he got to take the edge off before starting his little game.

Not that it was going to be fair to begin with.

You’re sprawled now, limbs askew, head hanging off his lap with your arms dangling.

He pauses. “Are you seriously falling asleep?”

“No,” you lie. “It’s just so nice.”

Ooh, mistake, he thinks, and brings his hand down hard for the last hit. It has the desired effect as you yelp and startle from his lap, betrayal across your face.

“Out,” he said, gesturing to the door and pulling his legs from under you so you have to scramble to make room.

You eye him suspiciously when you land on your old bedroll.

“Something you want to say?” he says, digging around in a cabinet with his back to you.

“No, sir.” You bite your tongue and try to see what he’s doing.

“Sit down, impatient girl,” he scolds.

You sit, legs crossed. You thought about kneeling, but with no indication how long you’d be there, you decided to get comfy instead. It’s then that you notice the ropes on either side of the bedroll, neatly coiled. Waiting.

“Don’t touch,” he says as you reach to feel.

“How do you do that?” you say, flinching back and folding your hands in your lap.

He chuckles. “I know you, cyar’ika. Turn around and face the fresher for a minute.” When you’re settled, he sits down behind you and takes one of the ropes. “Can I tie you up, baby?”

“Please.” It comes out as more of a whine than you mean, but your every muscle aches to find out what it feels like.

“You just sit there and relax.” He pauses. “No sleeping.”

You snort and shake your head. There was no need to worry about that. You’re too wound up now.

He begins to wind the cords around you, softly explaining what he’s doing. You would have been fine just letting him work, but to your surprise, it’s nice to know what’s happening. It helps that his voice is so, so pretty. And soft.

As he ties the diamond harness around your chest, he brushes his hands against your breasts, and you can’t help but squirm. He lets you. You won’t be able to, soon, anyway. He ties it off and shakes some of the ropes, running his finger under them to make sure they aren’t too tight.

“Oh,” you whisper, reaching up to feel the knot against your sternum, cupping your cradled breasts, and following the rope up to where he’s woven it over and under your collar.

He lets you explore for a moment. “How’s everything feel? Any pinching or tingling?”

“No, sir.” Your voice is so quiet he can barely hear it over the hum of the mechanics.

“Hands together behind your head.”

You lift them up, fingers knit, and he adjusts them so your neck is cradled in your palms. “Is that comfortable? Think you’ll be alright with them there for a while?”

You hum.

“Cyar’ika. Need you to stay with me right now and use your words.”

You shake your head a little bit, trying to clear away the haze even though all you want to do is sink into it. “Yes, sir. And yes, I’m comfortable.”

“Good girl. Hold still.” He starts first with your arms, threading the rope around to secure your forearm to your bicep. He winds a cuff around each wrist and gathers your hair into one fist.

You moan, less in pleasure than in contentment, so he takes an extra moment to run his fingers through your hair, pulling it neatly back. He slides a loop around it and braids the excess through, tying the end and securing it to your wrists.

Your breathing is ragged. Every brush of his fingers is sparking straight to your cunt, your thighs damp.

“Relax, baby. I’m only halfway done,” he says. He helps you turn around and gently lowers you until you’re lying flat, face up.

He looks you up and down and scraps some of his plan. He had something more elaborate in mind, but he doesn’t want you to slip into subspace yet, and it doesn’t seem like you can fight it for long.

Instead, he takes one leg and bends it to your chest before tying it there. With the other, he bends it over a low rung of the ladder, and secures it so you’re spread and vulnerable. Finally, he takes the loose ends sprawling from under the bedroll and weaves them across your torso, crisscrossing until he’s satisfied.

He checks each tie meticulously, having you affirm your comfort, before he sits back on his haunches. “Move.”

“What?”

“Wiggle, baby. Squirm around.”

You try. When you find that you can only wiggle in place, but can’t actually get any distance, you moan.

“You like this, cyar’ika?” He doesn’t need to ask. Your cunt, spread wide for him, is soaked. But he likes to make you say it anyway.

“Yes, sir.” You’re flushed, but you couldn’t hide from him if you tried.

“Good girl. You ready to try my idea?”

You open and close your mouth a few times. “This isn’t it?”

“It’s part of it, baby. It’s preparation. But last night at the market, I found something very interesting.” He holds up a small canister. “There’s a plant that grows on the mountainsides there with a peculiar side effect, if inhaled. If I take this, I’ll be insatiable for hours.”

Your breathing is shallow, eyes wide as you stare at the little tin.

“Remember, cyar’ika. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I won’t be upset with you if we don’t use it.”

“What’ll happen if we do?” You’re curious. “You’re already insatiable.”

“No, pretty girl. It’ll leave me hard. I’ll be able to cum over and over. Y’know, like you get to?”

“Oh. Yes, please.”

He laughs. “I was thinking we could play a little game. You like a little competition, right?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod, feeling a little suspicious again. You enjoy when he makes you suffer for his (and your) pleasure, but that doesn’t stop you from getting nervous.

“I want to see which one of us can make the other one cum more.”

“Oh,” that sounds fun, actually, so what’s the catch? “Wait. Hey, hang on. You tied me down.”

He laughs. When he’s like this, it’s just on the side of condescending that makes your clit throb. “You’ll have your mouth. And I’ll have everything else.”

“That’s cheating!”

He runs his hands over your breasts, pinching and squeezing. “That’s the point. Don’t worry, cyar’ika,” he strokes your cheek. “You kind of win either way, don’t you?”

He stands up. “It’s up to you. You say the word, and I’ll put this away. Plenty of other ways I can use you like this.”

You look up at him, a look in your eye he can’t quite place. “I want to.”

“Are you sure?”

“I trust you. And I want to make you cum. A lot.”

He grins. “Greedy thing. I’ll be right back, then.” He doesn’t want to open the container in the same room, doesn’t want to risk dosing you somehow. One of you has to be of sound mind for this, and he knows in his bones that if you use your safeword, he’ll stop. But he’s not sure you’d use it if you needed to, were you to ingest it.

It takes a few minutes, but by the time he returns to you, he feels warm all over. He had been half-hard already from groping you while you were tied up so prettily. But now, he aches.

“Can I blindfold you, cyare?” He’s breathing heavily.

“Please, sir,” you beg immediately, fairly certain of what that will mean. And you’re right.

As soon as the cloth is secure, you hear the soft hiss as he removes the helmet. He doesn’t make you wait, mercifully, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You moan and try to lean up for more, but your tether doesn’t let you.

He smiles, you can feel it against your lips, and you think you might lose your mind. You need him. Now. But he backs away.

He shushes you when you whine at the loss of his warmth, and settles himself over you.

“Oh, stars,” you groan as you realize what’s happening. He lowers his hips, letting the tip of his cock brush over your lips as he bows his head and parts you with his fingers. He dips his cock into your waiting mouth just as he licks the first stripe from your clit to your cunt.

It kicks off a chain reaction. You moan around his cock, and the vibrations pull a moan from him, as well. When you try to take him deeper, you realize you’ve been thoroughly tricked. You’re completely at his mercy, can only have as much of him as he lets you. Meanwhile, he’s teasing a finger at your entrance and sucking softly on your clit.

Suddenly, he pulls away, but slides his cock deeper in your throat. “Oh, and you can cum whenever you want. You don’t need to ask right now.”

Fuck.

It doesn’t take him long to draw the first one out of you. He lets you have his cock the whole time, softly thrusting as you suck and work your tongue. When he finally slides a thick finger in you, all the way to the knuckle, you cum. He moans into your cunt, pushing his cock down deep into your throat. He knows you like to choke on it when you cum, which—you realize later—was actually evil. Because it knocks a second orgasm out of you as you gag and struggle.

He pulls almost completely out, moaning as you suck hard to try to keep the head in your mouth. “That’s two,” he says, but it breaks into another moan as you flick your tongue over the slit. “That’s it, pretty girl, I’m almost there.”

He resumes fucking you with his finger, sliding another one in for good measure. He isn’t going to fight his orgasm. It’s not like he needs to try to hold out, and you deserve to get what you worked so hard for. So he thrusts roughly into you and spills down your throat.

He expects you to count or tease.

But you don’t. You gasp out, “Thank you, sir,” before opening your mouth again to wait for him.

“Dank farrik, cyar’ika,” he groans. “You’re going to kill me.” He slides his still-hard cock back into your mouth, and the way you take him is rapturous.

He resumes licking and nipping at you, kissing and sucking bruises into your thighs. You don’t notice the particulars of what he’s doing. Everything is soft and blissful. You’re only vaguely aware when you cum again, a gentle, rolling thing that makes you shake all over.

The world around you has narrowed. You might be floating, but thankfully, Mando has tied you nice and tight, so you don’t have to worry about it. You always love his cock, but right now, you think you might die if he stopped fucking your face.

The exquisite pleasure is just on the right side of painful. There’s a rushing sound in your ears, like a waterfall. You lose count of how many times he rewards you with his cum, how many times you cum just from feeling him twitch and spurt down your throat. Your jaw aches, and you feel raw all over. It’s bliss.

By the time the drugs wear off, Mando thinks maybe, maybe he’s too old for this. His back aches, and his knees lock up. And he’s so, so tired. But he’s still warm all over, and you’re so soft and beautiful.

You whine when he pulls away, but it’s a weak, soft thing. You’re too far gone, too worn out for more. He gives you another kiss before sliding the helmet back on.

“Cyar’ika, I’m going to take the blindfold off now.” He’s turned out the lights in the hull, but the adjustment might be too much still.

“Mm.” Everything is too heavy to move.

He slips the cloth off your head and warns you to hold still.

As if you would move if you could. That would be so, so much work.

You barely notice as he slides the knife, cutting the rope away from your body. You’re both absolutely filthy, but he doesn’t care. Doesn’t even think about getting cleaned up. Instead, he lifts you up and somehow manages to ease you both into the bunk. He brings the canteen to your lips and makes sure you take slow, easy sips.

Running his hands gently over you, he both checks to make sure skin didn’t break and admires the ridges of the rope where they’ve been tattooed into you. You’re limp, curled toward him, and he thinks you’re already asleep.

But then you nestle closer, pressing soft kisses to his bare chest, and he’s overcome again by gratitude, by awe at what he gets to have with you.

“Hey,” you whisper, later into the night. He stirs a little, too groggy to open his eyes. “Who won?” you ask.

“No idea,” he murmurs, and pulls you back into his chest to sleep.

*title from "My Blue Heaven" by Taking Back Sunday.

#din djarin x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian x reader #kinktober 2023 #the mandalorian fic #din djarin x f!reader #these two have me in a choke hold I'm sorry #these are so long because I go to write pwp and all the sudden there's feelings and budgets and ship maintenance #corazondebeskar-reads and writes #coming in just under the wire it's still the 8th here #make it hurt verse

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bluecatwriter · 4 months ago

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Headcanon on how long it takes Mina to be able to smell and taste food again without disgust? On her final entry she says Van Helsing kept trying to feed her after they left the "cleansed" castle but the very concept of food made her sick at that point

Ooh, that is an interesting note! I tend to think that it came back pretty rapidly, and that she was absolutely starved for human food for like two weeks. Sort of the effect of coming out of a bad stomach flu and when food tastes good again, you want to eat all of it at once. (I still remember the steak dinner I had after a really bad fever/cold, one of the best meals I've ever eaten even though I don't usually like steak.)

#asks #answered #dracula daily #dracula daily spoilers #mina harker

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differenteagletragedy · 1 year ago

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imagine the boys with an mc that they've never seen sick bc the mc got a really good immune system and then one day the mc is just sick in bed, all loopy, partially not understanding whats going on. So basically an mc that never gets sick but when they do its badddd.

-- Cove is PANICKING.

-- If you're still living at home, then he's going to your moms, his mom, his dad, just trying to figure out what to do.

Cove: Is it "feed a cold, starve a fever"? Why would we starve MC? How high does their temperature need to be before we take them to the doctor? Do we need to go to the emergency room?

-- But honestly, if you're living together, he's doing all that too. He's on google, checking your symptoms like once an hour. Will get soup delivered, he doesn't know how to make it (and he's not going to starve you, that's crazy).

-- By the way, none of the boys are going to keep their distance to avoid getting it lol, they'd all be in way too deep.

-- If you don't understand what's going on, he's going to think that's scary and he'll be tempted to take you to the hospital because you are precious to him. Will definitely call a nurse line or do a telehealth appointment, will also not leave your side until you're more coherent.

-- Tries to be strong for you but cries when you're sleeping because he's scared and he doesn't want you feeling this bad.

-- Derek was built for this though.

-- He's worried, of course, but he's a lot more composed. And he'll know how to make soup.

-- Will also know everything else on how best to treat you. He'll make sure you stay hydrated, will help you to the bathroom. Like he's gently wiping the sweat from your forehead or the snot from your nose lol, you will never have a better nurse in your life.

-- He'll talk to you and try to make you feel better even if you're loopy.

You: I don't ... I need to go to work ... the zebras ... *flails*

Derek: Shhh, honey, the zebras are fine, take another zip of water for me and try to rest.

-- He won't sleep until you're better.

-- Baxter though lol

-- It's not that he doesn't care, ok, he definitely does. He cares so much. He's going to call in at work so he can stay home and tend to you, he might even let you wear some of his fancy pajamas as a little treat.

-- But if you don't understand what's happening, then he's going to have fun with that.

You, a full grown adult with a full time job: If I don't finish my homework for math then I'm gonna flunk and I'll have to repeat the grade ...

Baxter, solemnly: That's terrible, dear.

-- He might go too far, but if he does then he'll feel bad enough to tell you when you get better to you can hang it over his head.

-- He will prepare a broth for you. He seems like a broth guy.

-- Will also lay in bed with you all day, having fun with your loopiness but also keeping an eye on you. Because as much as everyone calls Cove clingy, if he gets you back after the wedding in Step 4, then I hope you are ready for how hard he's going to attach himself to you.

#our life beginnings and always #our life #olba #cove holden #derek suarez #baxter ward #our life cove #our life derek #our life baxter #our life headcannons

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merakiui · 1 year ago

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I had a dream... even in my sleep I'm a slut.

Squid game au where you and Scaramouche are the last two players alive. You don't know what tomorrow's game will be, but only one of you can leave there alive.

Scara's a mess. You're an easy picking for someone like him. No matter what the game is, he can definitely beat you. He's older, smarter, and despite his small stature, he's much, much stronger than you.

Scaramouche is hungry.

He's guaranteed the win. All that money is his. He can pay off his debts, get that pesky doctor off his ass. He can purge the past, he can start life anew with enough money to grant him endless power. He'll be akin to a god!

This is what he's always wanted... isn't it?

Then why does he feel so... dissatisfied?

Scaramouche is starving.

He keeps bleeding through all the tissues pressed against his side in a makeshift bandage. No one knows he's injured. Especially not you. He could never let you see how fragile his imperfect body can truly be.

But the bleeding just won't stop, and the suit hanging on the door of the bathroom stall seems to be dancing to and fro in his blurry vision.

He thinks of you, waiting for him at the dining table for your last meal together. If he pretends hard enough, it's almost like he's getting ready for a date with the girl he won't admit he's obsessed with.

So he rips his track suit to shreds, pulling out as much of the stitching as he can. He'd kept the needle from the dalgona challenge, just in case, but never thought he'd need to use it like this. He bites his lip til blood runs down his chin, salty streams stain his doll-like face as he stitches the gaping wound shut.

A short nap on the cold tiles should quell his fever. You'll understand if he's just a little late to his date.

Scaramouche is famished.

When he finally arrives at the dinner table, he sits across from you. He'd never seen you all dressed up before. He deeply inhales your soothing sight, he drowns himself in your beauty, allowing it to wash away the memory of all the blood that stained the bathroom floor.

He doesn't talk much. It's never been his thing, and you've never minded. Maybe you even liked it. Why else would you cling to his side for the entirety of the games?

Scaramouche is ravenous.

He devours the steak in front of him. You're a bit hesitant, and he knows it's because your stomach churns at the sight of it. It's a sick game, really, he'll admit that. Making you kill each other and then feeding you a huge slab of meat? He has to persuade you to eat.

"You need it for tomorrow. If you don’t eat, you'll feel even sicker."

It almost sounded like he cared about you.

Even after he's done, his appetite isn't soothed, so he just sits and watches you struggle with the meal, playing with the steak knife to occupy his hands.

He's not as grateful as he thought he'd be when the organisers announce that he'll be allowed to keep it.

That night, Scaramouche approaches your bed. The knife is in his pocket. He'll make quick work of you. It will save him the time and effort of playing another game tomorrow, and it truly is the kinder option. After all, you hate these games. Why not save you from it all. It won't hurt. You'll be dead before you even realise you're in pain. He truly has a kind and benevolent soul, taking pity on you like this.

It's the right thing. It's what you need, and more importantly, what he wants. It's right.

Then why can't he do it?

You're not asleep. You feel him over you, a menacing aura consuming you. And then somehow, vanishes just as quickly as it appeared. The bed dips.

"Scara?"

He doesn't respond.

You sit up, looking at him. There's hardly any light in the room, but if you look hard enough, you'd swear his eyes were glowing.

"Scara? Are you okay?"

"No one else knows the name Kunikuzushi. You should thank me."

"Maybe I should just go back to calling you the hat guy."

Right. He slides the knife under your bed, the clinking sound lost under the chuckle he lets out. He forgot you were a snide little shit.

That night, the two of you talk. You talk and talk and talk, about anything and everything. He has a beautiful voice, you realise, and he tells you everything. He doesn't mind. His past will die with you tonight after all.

You tell him everything, and Scaramouche decides that you're the most tragically beautiful character he's ever read of. He loves you.

That knight you and the hat guy, Scaramouche, Kunikuzushi, tangle your legs and desperately fuck each other, swallowing each other's moans and whimpers as he kisses you senseless.

At one point, you manage to choke out, "Are you gonna fuck me til I'm too tired to fight back and then kill me?"

"Maybe I should."

Somehow, you're not scared.

That night when you're fast asleep, Scaramouche sits on the edge of the bed, watching you.

He's no longer hungry.

He kisses you, whispers an "I love you" that will never reach your ears and then fishes the knife from under your bed.

He goes back to the bathroom. The blood is gone. No matter. There will be more soon.

ANON, OMG.... SENDING YOU ALL MY LOVE AAAAAA!!!! SQUID GAME!SCARA IS MY BELOVED AND I CHERISH HIM!!! THIS ASK HAS ME CLAWING AT THE WALLS AND BITING MY FIST WOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

#genshin chit chat #meraki faves #BIG FAVE SO FAVE AMAZING FAVE THE MOST FAVE OTL #I NEED HIM SO CARNALLY #SPECIFICALLY I NEED SQUID GAME SCARA AAAAAA #i miss talking about genshin x squid game orz orz orz

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sophisticatedgia · 2 months ago

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Selfies cus I'm bored. As you can see my hands aren't completely healed but they will be! I don't want to be skinnier. I want to stay as I am. The baby blue crop top is a large. This black crop top is a medium. I love love love cardigans!

I've been productive today but not enough. I need to do the dishes. I think I took out trash earlier. My boyfriend is sick, I hope he gets better and healthy soon. He's been sleeping all day and not eating or drinking much :(

Mom says you're supposed to starve a cold but feed a fever.

#my pics #Diary #Fluff #goth aesthetic #Crop top #Goth #Black clothes #ed recovery #Selfie #communication #Me #Myself

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danytherelentless · 1 year ago

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The Silent Wolf

Jon Snow x fem!reader

summary: winters are hard but Northern wolves endure.

warnings: implied/non descriptive smut

This is just a short practice piece whilst I get back into the habit of writing again. It's not that good, but I still wanted to post it.

It is winter, and there is not enough food to put on the table. Even during summer, you could find food to be scarce in the North, but in winter, the coldest of the Kingdoms suffered most from famine.

The snow had not fallen for three days now, a welcome reprieve. And in this reprieve, you decided it would be best for your family to have one less mouth to feed, an act not uncommon in the worst of winters, unfortunately.

You arose before anyone else, stepping over the three sleeping brothers which you shared a bed with, and began to gather your belongings and nothing more.

You leave before anyone has awoken, quiet and sneakily, and do not turn back as you walk beyond the clearing and past the treeline. It is dark, and you have no light, but you do not have high expectations of survival. If the cold does not pick you off, some animal will, or some bandit or other. Perhaps, if you lived long enough, you would starve if you could not find enough food. Alas, you had your pack with furs on your back and a bow strung across your shoulder, axe and knife at your hip so you would endure for as long as you could, and you did not simply plan to just give up.

It was four lonely months in the woods, enduring snows and storms a plenty, when particularly violent snowstorm hits. The most violent you'd experienced yet. You were as prepared as you could be and made camp in your small, lonesome tent, and spent days in the dark, nibbling at your food rations and water, pushing away the quickly mounting snow in your waking hours and going mad all the while. You already were mad, you supposed.

You fall victim to a fever and are unaware of anything happening around you anymore. But you do dream. A dream of spring and a giant wolf with white fur and red eyes. Of a handsome, dark haired stranger with stone, solemn eyes. There are younger ones as well, happy and smiling, and they look just like him. They laugh and run in the green field, the sun bright overhead.

You awake beneath a roof. Furs are stuck to your clammy skin, clothes no longer covering you. You feel panic and quickly sit up. Your head is woozy, dizzying as you try to make sense of your surrounding.

Two piercing red eyes are staring at you, a silent watcher at the foot of where you sleep. A giant mammoth creature of white fur. A direwolf.

You cannot breath in it's presence, cannot find the air to fill your lungs as it stares you down so intensely.

It is only when the cabin door bursts open allowing flurries of white snow in that you look away. A man dressed in the storm steps in and slams the door shut behind him, turning the few locks to it and baring it. A prison? You wouldn't mind a prison. Perhaps without the giant wolf, however.

The tall stranger pulls down the cover to his face, a handsome one. The one of your dreams. He pulls off his fur hood and shakes out his dark curls and slowly pulls away at his layers, unaware of your staring. He was sent by the Gods, surely?

He looks to you finally with those dark eyes, a solemn and tragically beautiful face. You try not to look shocked or guilt ridden. You try to speak then, but words cannot find you.

He turns away, walks over to the lit fire on the opposite side of the cabin and stokes it, adds some more wood. The albino wolf prowls over, remarkably graceful. The cabin is larger than the one you have lived in your entire life, and he seems to fit quite well.

Both wolf and master are silent, and ignore you as he sits before the hearth and heats food. He brings some to you in your weakened state once it is readied, before returning to his place, staring into the flames.

A day passes, and he has slept by side of the fire, leaving you to his bed unless he comes to give you food.

A second passes and you are well enough to stand up and slowly put on your own clothes once again, freshly washed, you notice. He watches you as you do so, the first man to ever see you naked, though you'd shared a bed and room with some of your brothers.

The third day, you dare to sit by the fire when the giant wolf is gone. You wait with bated breath for him to speak, for him to make a move towards you, and you struggle to feel any fear. Oh, you should, you know that. Men are vile creatures and you are at his mercy. Yet you have been deprived of any human contact for months, and it's made your rather careless.

You return to the bed in the evening, and it is after you have eaten that he prowls towards you, pulling off his tunic. You know he wants your body from that look in his eyes, that he wants you. And who are you to refuse? Has he not saved your life, has he not given you shelter? In times of winter that is as good as marriage vows spoken before the eyes of a weirwood tree.

He mounts you atop his furs and rolls his naked hips into yours with deep thrusts, and though it hurts, you cannot help but pull him closer. His flesh is warm and you so cold, a dragon made flesh. His head burrows in the crux of your neck and he bites down and you love it.

He claims you over and over again until you no longer feel any sense of loneliness. He sleeps naked next to you that night in his own bed for the first time since you'd awoken here.

The Old Gods must have granted you your dream of spring before winter has even met it's end. And perhaps with your handsome stranger, you would see the sun shine on a green field once again.

comments are looked upon fondly here, so don't be a stranger :)

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #jon snow #jon snow x reader #jon snow x you #asoiaf x reader #game of thrones #got #got x reader #got x you

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