#joint relief knee pad pillow

[iq4u-health-wellness]

(via Joint problems – Types, Causes & Prevention)

[carryonafi]

my poor brain.

calum hood x reader; SMUT!!!

a/n: this one has been cooking for a little while teehee 😋 some more smut (high edition) because apparently that is all i am capable of writing — and plus, we need some more calum on this blog <3 enjoy!!

words: 2.1k

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The drug made your head spin, taking one slow, deep breath as colorful specks clouded your peripheral vision. Did it feel euphoric, though. Your eyes hooded, staring up at the popcorn ceiling which spun gradually. It made you dizzy, you had to close your eyes. However, they opened immediately after you thought you heard the sounds of footsteps approaching and a soft laugh came from your boyfriend.

“Don’t think that's yours, sweet pea.” He sat on the edge of the bed, just next to where you were laying with your head half-way on the pillow.

“What’s yours is mine too, now.” You mumble as lovingly as you could manage, a lazy smile followed as your head lulled to the side to look at him. He had more. He was over the rolling tray as you perked up, then slowly began to straighten up on the bed. The change in position made you all muddled again, a wave of warmth rushed over you as you shuffled closer to Calum and wrapped your arms around his middle. Your chin rested on his shoulder to watch what he was doing, but the soft pump of your heartbeat blended with his and echoed in your ears. You could hear his breathing through the haze, everything was just so slow. So slow, and so warm. He brought his free hand up to cup your cheek, pressing the thin paper closed with the tip of his tongue. “That’s my way of saying you’re mine.” Your thought finally finished, nose pressing into his hair as he let go of your face to grasp for the patterned lighter left on the bedside table.

“Mm, you stole that from me too.” He hummed, that was what he had told you at some point during your year of being together. Clothes were shared between the two of you to the point where you didn’t know what belonged to you anymore, but you couldn’t focus on your blatant plagiarism. Now, you could hear the flicker of the lighter, the crackling and hissing of the joint and Calum’s frame expanding as he inhaled. Dizzy again. You had no idea how anyone could make taking a drag like that as attractive as he did, your pupils dilated to accompany the glossy shield as you admired him. The hollowing of his cheeks as he pulled, joint still a flaming orange as he pushed out the blue-tinted smoke ahead of him. His hair had grown into a thick mess of black and blond atop his head, so easy for you to tangle your hands in… but they were too occupied tracing small shapes into his sides. He offered you the burning joint, to which you politely declined by shaking your head.

“Shotgun me.” You said just above a whisper, followed by another dazed smile as you poked your tongue out to wet your lips which felt endlessly dry. Calum breathed out a laugh, shaking his head as he flicked the lighter once more.

“So bold, Y/N.” He teased, you giggled and waited so very patiently for the moment he made your wish come true. Another flick of the lighter, and another, and another… Calum cursed. This made you whine.

“Cal..” You pouted, slowly falling back into a kneeling position, sitting on your heels as Calum got up to search for a lighter that wasn't all burnt and useless.

“I’m comin’ baby, I’m comin’...” He rushed to dig through his coat pockets, letting out a breath of relief as he tossed the old piece of plastic off to his desk and used this new lighter. It felt like hours, such long hours until he was finally standing just in front of you as you stood on your knees at the edge of the bed. Soft navy blue sheets crinkled under your weight, wrapping your arms around his neck to feel the same shift of fabric on his shirt, Calum’s free hand cupped your jaw, rough pad of his thumb rubbing against your bottom lip and making you feel like the most wanted in the world. You could see every little detail, half-lidded eyes, full lips wrapped around the paper, you leaned in just at the right time as he pushed the smoke past your lips. You could only let out a soft hum into his mouth which sounded more like a reaction to pleasure, Calum briefly pulled away to set the joint down onto the ceramic ashtray. Just before he kissed you again, he leaned in close and hovered while brushing his top lip against your bottom one. A sigh of want exited you, a quick, sharp inhale taking its place as Calum forced your lips back together and moved the hand that was on your jaw all the way down to the small of your back to ensure you didn’t fall back. He was bending you down, holding on carefully as you made out and he couldn’t hold your bodies up anymore. You were finally laying down on the bed again after shuffling out from that kneel, ankles hooked around his waist to hold him close.

“Guys are downstairs.” He mumbled between kisses, squeezing his eyes shut as your warmth pressed into his hips.

“So?” You whispered back, now rushing to tangle your hands in the hair at the nape of his neck so he could never get away from you. Calum whispered some nonsense about them expecting the two of you to come down soon, all you did was move those kisses to his cheek, then his soft jaw, then his neck just about as far as you could get without him resisting. You lifted your leg slightly, thigh pressing into where he stirred in his sweatpants.

“So.. they’ll wonder why we’ve been gone so long.” Calum replied, but it didn’t really sound like he was trying to fight back too much. Especially with how breathy he got at the end of his sentence, you knew he just couldn’t say no.

“We can be quick.” You traced your fingertips along the curve of his jaw just as you let your head drop back down into the bed.

“You know I can never just be quick with you.” Calum began to push your (his) top up your body either way, his fingers were so warm against your body that the contrast made you shiver. He was so gentle, so intoxicating that without another word you lifted your arms to bring the shirt over your head and throw it off to the side.

“Y’know..” You mumble, hands immediately finding the hem of his shirt as well before making the same moves Calum had to take your shirt off. Then you trailed off, taking a moment to think as your boyfriend stared back at you with curiosity. “Forgot what I was gonna say.” You giggled, a soft one that turned into a quiet laugh as Calum’s hands trailed over your sensitive, ticklish sides.

“You’re silly.” Was all he could say, leaning in and pressing soft kisses to your stomach despite your body constantly wiggling against him. It was like a battle to get you to stay still… he blew a raspberry into your skin just below your navel.

“Calum!” You gripped the sheets and laughed, but the more you laughed the more those soft waves of euphoria washed over you and made your grip weaker. All to distract you, since you had no idea that your panties had come off in that instant.

Calum’s lips twisted into an amused grin against your skin, pulling away and looking down at you with those sweet chocolate eyes almost completely darkened with desire. His eyes were so beautiful, just so goddamn beautiful. It was like Calum could see your thoughts in the way your expression softened once you got to losing yourself in his deep, hypnotizing irises. He didn’t speak a lot, he never spoke an excessive amount while making love, but he didn’t need to. There was an understanding in you both almost at all times. However, it was nice to hear his voice.

“Y’ready for me, sweet pea?” Calum said in a breath, his eyes roaming every inch of your face, towards your hair fanned out across the blankets, then following the line of your jaw and the fading hickeys he had left just the day before.

“Mmhm..” You nodded with that weak hum, nothing that was going on past your field of vision had registered in your slow moving mind, but hell, it did when you felt him sink inside.

It didn’t even take a second, you were already starting to writhe slightly against the blankets and silently beg for more with quiet, needy huffs of breath and eyes suddenly wider than before. Calum would be smiling at the sight of you if he weren’t so focused on making sure you didn’t hurt yourself with how much you moved.

“Slow down.. s’okay. I’m gettin’ there.” He squeezed your hip to put your wiggling to an end, it all just felt so real— more real than anything has felt in the last hour.

His words soothed you a little bit, though at this point you weren’t sure if the things you thought you were saying actually made it past your lips. It all just moved so slow, so slow and loving.

Calum would mutter these little phrases under his breath, right next to your ear so you could feel each syllable being spoken to you, or to himself. Just sweet things which could turn so vulgar so quick, how beautiful you were to how badly he wanted to pound you into the mattress within a matter of seconds. However, he was just so expressive… you couldn’t get sick of it.

“Cal,” you mutter hoarsely. Watching as his eyes gradually opened and the soft movements of his hips slowed down, but hit so much deeper. You reacted boldly, a hand moving to tangle in his hair again. Those soft ones right on his neck which tended to be smoother than the others. His coconut conditioner really did him wonders.

“Mm?” Calum was taking his time, his hands braced on the backs of your thighs and digging into your flesh, bound to leave bruises.

“I need it faster…” Your voice came out in a slight gasp as Calum spread your legs further and paused his rhythm for a moment, fully inside you. He looked at you expectantly, did you not add that sweet plea at the end like you thought?

“Please.”

“That’s it.” He said so gently, lips wandering over your cheekbones and peppering kisses over your recently sun-kissed skin before settling a place on your lips. You let out a muffled, whimper-like noise once Calum started to move again but faster as you wanted.

That was it, this was the pace that was going to have you seeing galaxies despite how slow and attentive Calum was. If anything, it was all fuel to the fire.

He looked at you with nothing but love, love which shone through the deep, glassy exterior of his eyes which in all honesty made this ten times better. Calum was physically making you weak in the knees and with every second that passed, it got even more intense.

You let out a weak call of his name, and he responded by leaning in and gently kissing your lips.

“Shhh, baby…” He mumbled, mouth never moving off of yours which created a soft vibration of his words on your lips. All you could do was gasp against his lips, it was so slow… so slow but so good. The pace was making you lose it, back arched against the mattress and crinkled sheets when your body finally started to react to your orgasm quickly catching up to you and pleasure crashing down in waves. Maybe that wasn’t the right phrase, it wasn’t very intense… move like soft rushes of electricity which made your legs twitch.

And there was even more to come as you clamped down on his cock, sending that delicious domino effect of your orgasms following one another through the room. Your body was stuck in one place, looking up at Calum and the sweat on his hairline like it was shore meeting the ocean. His perfect skin, being the case.

He sat up and pulled you with him, making you sigh as he held you close and idly stroked the like of where your spine was.

“Told you I can never just be quick.” He muttered right against your hair, peppering kisses down the side of your face as you grinned at the sensation of Calum’s soft lips on your skin.

“Yeah,” You hummed in agreement. There was no doubt what you would be met with downstairs when you finally got back to your friends, in for the teasing and playful comments which would drive you to blush, but Calum just to feel prideful.

[idolatrybarbie]

lbs!marcus masterlist

pairing: marcus pike x fem!reader

word count & rating: 1.9k | explicit - minor free zone!

summary: marcus loves you. you love him.

warnings: smut - oral sex (f receiving), sweetness, it's pretty straightforward. thee final installment of you and marcus in fairfax county, va.

You unstrap yourself from your shoes before you even get out of the car. Heels in hand, you pad across the still-frozen ground to the front door. It’s already unlocked, letting you twist the knob and open the door easily. The low buzz of a power drill whines from the shadowy living room, lamps casting a white-yellow glow down the hall to make up for the lack of an overhead fixture.

You left Marcus this morning with a couple pieces of unbuilt Ikea furniture. He decided that a Wednesday in mid-January was the perfect time to use a vacation day and build it all for you. Clearly, he’s still at it. You leave the skyscraper stilettos on the floor beside the coat rack, walking down the hall as a smile paints itself across your face. He is still in his Houston Astros shirt, grey sweatpants shifting as Marcus moves from sitting to kneeling over the small shelf he’s working on.

The floor creaks beneath you, alerting him to your presence.

“Hey babe,” he says, turning to look at you.

“Hey. How’s it going?”

“Almost done with this. I’ve got a few more screws, and she’ll be all done.”

You love that Marcus refers to things as if they were some grand sea ship, calling everything from the air fryer to this cheap hunk of plywood ‘she.’

“How was work?” Marcus asks.

“Fine. Same old.” Taking another step towards him, you wince. Marcus’ face morphs into a look of concern. “Those heels did a number on me, though.”

You haven’t worn much other than athletic footwear for the last nine months. Comfortable sneakers, supportive running shoes. High heels are the exact opposite of both those things. Not to mention, that specific pair is on the brink of falling apart. But they look so cute, you couldn’t help yourself.

Marcus stands, taking you into his arms. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Let me make you feel better,” he says.

“Marcus, you’ve been working all day,” you say.

“I sat on my ass for two hours watching that political fixer show of yours, which is why I’m not done yet,” Marcus tells you, shaking his head. “I’m fine. You’re not.”

“I’m fine, too.” Yet when you step back, a hiss slithers past your lips.

“You’re not,” he says again. “It’s no trouble. I want to.”

He’s already in your head, reading all the thoughts that pass through. You don’t want to hassle him. It’s no big deal. So on and so forth. He gives you a heart-melting stare, eyes round with softness.

You say, “Okay, yeah,” and he’s practically scooping you into his arms.

Marcus leads you up the stairs to your room with instructions to get on the bed. Laying flat on the mattress takes the pressure off your spine, your body flooding with relief. Marcus gets on his knees, kneeling at the end. He takes one of your feet into his hands, resting it in his lap before he starts to rub at the skin.

He gently works his fingers over your foot, thumb digging into your arch. You sigh at his touch, relaxing further into the pillows. Marcus soothes the ache in your first metatarsal with easy pressure. Standing at an incline for almost ten hours has done a number on your joints, the pain melting away as he continues his massage. You roll your ankle when he moves onto the next foot.

Opening your eyes, you’re quick to notice how Marcus stares at you. Your legs, specifically, thighs wrapped in sheer brown nylon. He looks like a kid on Christmas morning, enraptured, ready to tear you open.

“Like what you see, handsome?” you ask.

“Hmm?” Marcus hums, eyes back on your face in an instant.

“You’re staring at my thigh highs.”

“A man can’t appreciate his girl’s excellent taste in fashion?” he asks.

You remove your foot from his grasp, pressing your toes into the center of his chest. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Marcus Pike has a bit of a stocking fetish.”

At your words, Marcus’ ears grow pink. His whole face is flushed, eyes crinkling as he smiles awkwardly. Realization dawns on you as he reaches to scratch the back of his neck, the conversation effectively dying. He does. You’ve caught him in a net of terrible awkwardness, laying here at an impasse.

“Marcus…”

“I know it’s weird,” he says.

“What? No,” you say. Sitting up, you shake your head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“You’re alright.”

“I don’t think it’s weird,” you assure him.

“Seriously?” Marcus asks.

“Of course not. I wouldn’t lie to you about that.”

Both kneeling before each other, you take his hand and drag it to the side of your leg. The synthetic fabric slips under his fingers. Feeling the texture of the nylon and your soft skin just beneath it stirs something in him. Pressing closer, you feel him hard against your hip.

You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him deep and slow. His hands take their place at either side of you, sliding from the stockings up beneath your skirt. Marcus squeezes your ass, palming at you for a moment. Then he slips a finger beneath your underwear, pulling the elastic away from your body only to have it snap in place again.

“What do you want?” you ask, lips right by his ear.

“You,” he whispers. Hands at your waist now, he hugs you impossibly closer. Marcus ruts his hips into yours, breathing heavy. “Fuck…please.”

“If you want me, you have me,” you say.

Marcus pushes you back onto the bed with a little force, following you down. He meets you at the mouth, kissing you before trailing off to your cheek. He presses his lips against your jaw, down to your neck and collarbone. Through the material of your top, he kisses at your chest. Marcus bypasses your torso to mouth at the place where the bottom hem of your shirt and the cotton waistline of your skirt meet. He pulls your shirt up where it’s tucked against your stomach, kissing your belly. You giggle when he licks at the skin, tongue warm.

“Have I ever told you how much I love your new job?” he mumbles into your stomach.

“Hmmm. A little bit,” you say. Marcus nips at the skin over your ribs, making his way up your chest. You gasp quietly, continuing, “Said something about…you like seeing me happy at work.”

“Only part of it,” he says. Marcus has your shirt pushed up to your throat, bra on display for him. He slides a hand beneath you to unclasp the back. It releases from your body easily, letting him push it up and away from your breasts. You’re sure you look ridiculous swamped with clothes at the neck, but Marcus doesn’t seem to notice or care. He’s mesmerized with the pattern of your skin.

“What’s the other part, then?” you ask, trying to keep a straight face as he gently pinches at one of your nipples.

“You wear all these cute little outfits…the skirts, the stockings, the heels.” Leaning over, Marcus takes that nipple into his mouth, sucking harshly.

“You like the clothes?”

“You look so good. I can’t help myself. Just wanna—” He interrupts himself, resting his face in the valley between your breasts. Marcus takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of you. “Just wanna bend you over the kitchen counter when I see you get home, take you right then and there.”

“Yeah?” you ask. Rubbing your thighs together does little to relieve the growing ache between them. Picturing your cheek laying against the cool countertop as Marcus hikes up your skirt at a moment’s notice is dangerous. “We should try it out sometime.”

Marcus pauses for a split second, brain registering what you’ve said.

“You’re going to kill me,” he says.

His fingers work to find the clasp of your skirt, unlatching it. Marcus pulls down the zipper at the side of your hip, bringing your underwear down with the other fabric. He follows the line of your leg with his nose as the bottoms slide off your body, getting all the way off the bed and onto the floor with your discarded clothes.

You sit up, both to watch him and to rid yourself of your shirt and bra. Fully undressed now, you note the contrast between his clothed body and yours, starkly nude. Heat creeps through your tummy, wetness reaching the inside of your thighs. You feel like a gift freshly unwrapped; a gourmet cake too good to eat as he regards you with that look. Marcus stares up almost reverently. This man would worship at your altar. You wouldn’t even have to ask.

He leaves your stockings on, nosing against your tibia. Light licks against the skin of your ankle make you shiver. Marcus kisses his way up your left leg, nuzzling the crook of your knee. He rests his chin against your kneecap, eyes focused as he watches you watch him.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?”

“Today, or in general?”

“Every day,” he says, pressing a kiss to your thigh. “All day, all of the time.”

His hands inch closer to the middle of your body, fingers feather-light across the swell of skin. Marcus rejoins you on the bed, kisses getting firmer as he reaches level with your cunt. He leaves another kiss to your pelvis, readjusting to drag his tongue against your cunt.

You rub at his shoulders absently, one hand moving sidelong up his neck before fingers twine in his hair. You gasp when he nips at you, catching you off guard with a hint of teeth. You pull at his dark brown strands; Marcus groans against at the feeling. He pushes you further with the slip of a finger inside, gentle but insistent alongside his laps at your clit.

It doesn’t take long for him to have you twisting in bed, gasps stuttering as you tighten your thighs around the sides of his head. He brings you to the very edge before pulling back. Marcus noses at the crease of your thigh, finger smearing against the outer part of your hip as he holds you.

“I thought you were supposed to be making me feel better,” you sigh.

“What if I just like to take my time?” Marcus asks.

“Then I’d have to tell you to hurry it up.”

It’s all in fun. Any sense of pain from earlier has disappeared, Marcus’ soft touch drawing it from you easily. Still, your words spur him on. His finger slips back inside you, middle finger joining Marcus’ index. That little bit more, the faster pace he sets along with the slide of his tongue has you at the edge again in minutes.

He stops when you push him away, thighs twitching, breath ragged. In the time you’ve been with Marcus, you have learned that this is his favourite part. Still hard in his sweatpants, sure, but sated and satisfied. He mouths gently at the slope of your stomach, your hand at the nape of his neck.

Marcus sticks his tongue in your belly button, making you groan.

“You’re so weird,” you say.

“You weren’t complaining like, three minutes ago.”

“Different. You know it’s different.”

“Hmmm,” Marcus hums. He keeps his head halfway between your gut and your lap, breathing slow. “I love you.”

“I know.” He flicks you, hip smarting with the scratch. “I love you too.”

“That’s good.”

He’s right. It is.

[ramadiphysio]

In Early Pregnancy Back Pain: Causes & Relief Tips

Back pain in early pregnancy is a common symptom experienced by many women due to a variety of physiological changes. Understanding the causes and how to manage this discomfort can help alleviate symptoms and improve overall well-being during pregnancy.

Causes of Back Pain in Early Pregnancy

Hormonal Changes: The release of the hormone relaxin during pregnancy loosens the ligaments and joints, especially in the pelvic area, which can lead to instability and back pain.

Posture Changes: As the uterus expands, it shifts the body’s center of gravity, causing changes in posture. This shift can strain the lower back muscles, leading to pain.

Weight Gain: While weight gain in early pregnancy is typically minimal, any added weight can increase the load on the spine, contributing to back pain.

Muscle Fatigue: Hormonal fluctuations can lead to muscle fatigue and stiffness, making the lower back muscles more susceptible to pain.

Stress and Tension: Emotional stress and anxiety during pregnancy can tighten the back muscles, contributing to discomfort.

Effective Remedies for Early Pregnancy Back Pain

Maintain Good Posture: Keep your shoulders back and your spine straight. Use a chair with lumbar support and place a pillow behind your lower back for added comfort when sitting.

Exercise Regularly: Gentle exercises such as walking, swimming, and prenatal yoga can strengthen the back and abdominal muscles, improving flexibility and reducing pain. Consult your healthcare provider before starting any new exercise routine.

Apply Heat or Cold Packs: Using a warm compress or heating pad on the lower back can soothe sore muscles. Cold packs can help reduce inflammation and numb the area.

Wear Supportive Footwear: Choose shoes with low heels and good arch support. Avoid high heels, as they can exacerbate back pain.

Use a Pregnancy Pillow: Sleeping on a firm mattress with a pregnancy pillow can help support the back and abdomen, reducing strain and discomfort.

Consider Prenatal Massage: A certified therapist experienced in prenatal care can provide a gentle massage to alleviate muscle tension and reduce back pain.

When to Seek Medical Advice

Back pain in early pregnancy is usually normal, but there are certain instances where it could indicate a more serious condition. Contact your healthcare provider if:

The pain is severe, sudden, or persistent.

You experience sharp pain that radiates down your legs.

The pain is accompanied by symptoms such as vaginal bleeding, fever, or difficulty urinating.

Preventing Back Pain in Early Pregnancy

Exercise Regularly: Engage in low-impact exercises to strengthen back and abdominal muscles.

Maintain a Healthy Weight: Avoid rapid weight gain, as it can put additional strain on your back.

Avoid Heavy Lifting: If lifting is necessary, bend your knees and keep your back straight.

Use Proper Support: A maternity support belt can help alleviate pressure on the back.

Stay Hydrated: Drinking plenty of water can reduce muscle cramping and stiffness.

Conclusion

Back pain in early pregnancy is a common symptom that can result from hormonal changes, posture shifts, and muscle fatigue. Implementing remedies such as good posture, regular exercise, and the use of supportive footwear can alleviate discomfort. However, if the pain is severe or accompanied by other symptoms, seeking medical advice is essential for ensuring a healthy pregnancy.

If you need more personalized advice or have concerns, consult your healthcare provider for tailored guidance and support.

🔗Read More: https://ramadiphysio.com/in-early-pregnancy-back-pain/

[idigitizellp21]

Still Struggling With Post-Pregnancy Back Pain? All You Need To Know

Bringing a new life into this world is undoubtedly one of the most miraculous experiences a woman can go through. However, along with the joys of motherhood, many women also face the challenge of post-pregnancy back pain. This discomfort can be delayed for months or even years after childbirth, affecting daily activities and diminishing the joy of motherhood.

Why your back hurts after pregnancy and easy ways to handle the pain:

Post-pregnancy back pain is a common complaint among new mothers, and its causes can vary. During pregnancy, a woman’s body undergoes significant changes to the needs of the growing baby, which can strain the back muscles and ligaments. Additionally, hormonal changes loosen the ligaments and joints, leading to instability and potential misalignment of the spine. The weight gain associated with pregnancy further worsens the strain on the back, particularly in the lower region.

After childbirth, the strain on the back persists, as women often find themselves bending, lifting, and carrying their newborns. Poor posture during breastfeeding and lack of proper support while lifting the baby can also contribute to back pain. Furthermore, the physical demands of caring for a newborn, coupled with sleep deprivation, can intensify the discomfort.

Effective Solutions to Ease You from After Pregnancy Back Pain:

Fortunately, there are several strategies that new mothers can adopt to manage and ease post-pregnancy back pain:

1. Exercise: Engaging in gentle exercises can help strengthen the back muscles and improve flexibility. Activities such as walking, swimming, and yoga are particularly beneficial for postpartum women. However, it’s essential to consult with a healthcare provider before starting any exercise regimen to ensure it’s safe and appropriate for your circumstances.

2. Posture Awareness: Maintaining good posture is crucial for alleviating back pain. Be mindful of your posture while breastfeeding, lifting your baby, and performing daily tasks. Use supportive pillows and cushions to maintain proper spinal alignment and avoid slouching.

3. Ergonomic Support: Invest in ergonomic baby gear, such as a supportive breastfeeding pillow and a baby carrier with padded straps. These products can help distribute the weight of the baby more evenly, reducing strain on your back and shoulders.

4. Physical Therapy: If you’re experiencing persistent back pain, consider seeking the guidance of a physical therapist. A customized exercise program tailored to your specific needs can target problem areas and improve overall strength and mobility.

5. Self Care Practices: Incorporate self care practices into your daily routine to alleviate stress and tension in the body. Activities such as meditation, massage, and hot/cold therapy can provide relief from back pain and promote relaxation.

6. Proper Lifting Techniques: When lifting your baby or any other objects, remember to bend your knees and keep your back straight. Avoid twisting your spine while lifting, as this can strain the muscles and lead to injury.

7. Adequate Rest: Prioritize rest to allow your body to recover from the physical demands of childbirth. Take frequent breaks throughout the day, and enlist the help of family members or friends to assist with childcare duties.

Closing Thoughts: Understanding and Accepting Post-Pregnancy Back Pain

Postpartum back pain is frequent but controllable for many new mothers. With an understanding of its origins and effective remedies, discomfort can be relieved, allowing mothers to savour every moment of early motherhood. Prioritize self-care, consult your gynecologist as necessary, and give yourself grace as you adapt to this life-changing phase. With patience and proper attention, you can overcome post-pregnancy back pain and relish motherhood with energy and resilience.

[agapechiropracticsg]

Understanding and Alleviating Back Pain During Pregnancy: A Comprehensive Guide

Pregnancy is an extraordinary journey filled with anticipation and joy, but it can also bring its fair share of challenges, one of the most common being back pain. As the body undergoes numerous changes to accommodate the growing baby, it's not uncommon for expectant mothers to experience discomfort, particularly in the lower back. Understanding the causes and remedies for back pain during pregnancy is essential for ensuring a smoother and more comfortable experience.

What Causes Back Pain During Pregnancy?

Several factors contribute to back pain during pregnancy:

Weight Gain: As the baby grows, the mother's weight increases, placing additional strain on the spine and supporting muscles.

Posture Changes: The body's center of gravity shifts forward as the uterus expands, leading to changes in posture that can strain the back muscles.

Hormonal Changes: During pregnancy, the body produces hormones like relaxin, which relaxes the ligaments in the pelvic area to prepare for childbirth. However, this hormone can also affect other ligaments and joints, potentially leading to instability and discomfort in the back.

Stress and Tension: Emotional and physical stress can exacerbate back pain during pregnancy, as tense muscles are more prone to strain.

Tips for Alleviating Back Pain:

Maintain Good Posture: Practice good posture by standing up straight, keeping shoulders back, and distributing weight evenly on both feet. Avoid slouching or leaning back excessively.

Exercise Regularly: Gentle exercises such as walking, swimming, and prenatal yoga can help strengthen the back muscles and improve posture. Always consult with a healthcare provider before starting any exercise routine during pregnancy.

Use Proper Body Mechanics: When lifting objects, bend at the knees and use your legs rather than your back to lift. Avoid lifting heavy objects whenever possible.

Supportive Footwear: Wearing supportive, low-heeled shoes can help alleviate back strain by providing stability and cushioning.

Sleeping Position: Sleep on your side with a pillow between your knees to support the spine and relieve pressure on the lower back. A pregnancy pillow can also provide additional support and comfort.

Heat and Cold Therapy: Applying a heating pad or cold pack to the affected area can help reduce inflammation and alleviate pain. Always ensure the temperature is comfortable and avoid applying heat directly to the abdomen for extended periods.

Prenatal Massage: Consider seeking out a certified prenatal massage therapist who can safely address back pain and provide relief through gentle massage techniques.

Hydration and Nutrition: Stay hydrated and maintain a balanced diet rich in nutrients, as dehydration and poor nutrition can exacerbate muscle tension and discomfort.

When to Seek Medical Attention:

While mild to moderate back pain is common during pregnancy, it's essential to consult with a healthcare provider if you experience:

Severe or persistent pain

Pain accompanied by other symptoms such as fever or numbness

Pain that interferes with daily activities or sleep

In some cases, back pain during pregnancy may be indicative of a more serious underlying condition that requires medical attention.

Conclusion:

Back pain during pregnancy is a common concern for many expectant mothers, but with the right knowledge and strategies, it can be effectively managed. By practicing good posture, staying active, and seeking appropriate support and treatment when needed, pregnant individuals can minimize discomfort and enjoy a healthier, more comfortable pregnancy journey. Always consult with a healthcare provider for personalized advice and guidance tailored to your specific needs and circumstances.

[freemefromthetyrannyofthisdevice]

Flare day three, I think. Of a decline that has been advancing since July.

Recently my partner bought us a tempur-pedic mattress pad, five inches of pressure relieving gel. Super expensive. I begged him not to get it. He insisted that it was worth it for any chance it would improve my pain. I was quietly worried it would not help.

Unfortunately I was right. It feels amazing at first, but as usual by morning I basically have full body bed sores. I am in so much pain that I start crying almost immediately. I can't take a deep breath. My first thought is agony, and my thoughts just spiral from there. Immediately, my first thought in the morning is about pain.

Every plan I make is checked by the reality of what it feels like to just move. My muscles give out, and then the joint crunches. Lifting anything over ten lbs is impossible somehow. I used to be so strong. So recently. I was so strong.

The sounds my knees make going up the stairs are embarrassing. I moved my leg the other morning, and his eyes got wide. He said he thought the noise was a bottle of pills.

I fear exacerbating the pain so much that I have an active avoidance of life. I don't want to exercise, remembering the knee dislocation, the rotator cuff injury that led to two urgent care visits and steroids to allow me to use my arm again. I know exercise avoidance is worsening everything, but I am afraid of walking too far and not being able to do anything the next day. I'm afraid of more permanent injuries, and thus more pain without hope of relief.

I need to stretch, I need to do the PT that I developed myself, that was working. I need to move. Instead I wander around. I do the bare minimum. I sit, I pace. I atrophy further. I am starving. I feel poisoned, as if from radiation! My eyes have declined, distance vision now extremely blurry, despite my apparently very small astigmatism, my vision is MUCH worse somehow. My hearing is worse. I feel the decline of my entire body. At 28. I will be 29 this year, and thinking of the future is horrifying. I see wheelchairs, canes, opportunities squandered. And at the same time, I reject this. I want to solve this, not only for myself, but for other people. The descriptor for this life I am living is horror. I am being slowly tortured, every day, every hour, every moment. It is the first thing I think about in the morning, the last thing I think about before sleep. It's what I think about throughout the night, waking up to shift and creak and writhe.

This can not continue.

I am afraid of getting a job and losing it due to my chronic mood swings, flare ups, suicidality, caused by the daily war I am fighting against pain. I'm good with words, I can not think of any word but agony to describe this. I am afraid of not being able to get a job because I can't do the physical work I have the most skill in.

I asked him this morning if he was in pain, he said, a little sore (from the gym) but no not at all.

Imagine. Oh my vicious jealousy. His warm, smooth, beautiful, efficient, muscled form. Even his skin looks strong. Oh my vicious jealousy.

My bedtime routine includes slathering myself in biofreeze gel, and I mean way too much of it, I add lidocaine and diclofenac too in layers. I have to carefully arrange four pillows, a special cervical therapy pillow, and then arrange my joints so they will not collapse overnight. They will. They always do. If I stay in the same place all night the pain in the morning is localized to the place that had the most pressure, like my mid back, or my shoulder. If I shift all night, waking up to crack and shift and stretch and try unconsciously to relieve it, the pain becomes diffuse over every limb and joint. I wake up and immediately want to die. I am angry that I woke up. I feel a horrible sense of injustice, and at the same time the cruelty in me responds that no one deserves anything.

I fought for years to want to live, through the neuropsychiatric problem, finally I have that handled and now my physical body is melting, cracking apart. I am dissolving.

I know I'm likely just in a pretty serious flare right now, due to my hormonal cycle and recent travel, but just a flare is destroying my relationship and my happiness.

He tries to hold me at night like we used to all the time, and I shove him away, desperate to shift. Any light touch in the wrong place is horror. If he holds me too tightly, at the wrong angle, my neck can dislocate. I can not hold still, constantly shifting.

I push him away. We once had a pretty active lovely sex life. Now I can not stand to be touched. The pain makes me feel like an ugly grey shell. I feel like I look like gollum, somehow. Very hard to explain, this horrible feeling. I have suffered from bipolar disorder related depression before, this is a localized physical depression. I feel like I am (am in?am?) a dried, rough, broken skeleton all the time. I don't even look in the mirror. I don't want to. I feel old and ugly. The pain is aging me even further. My skin is grey, wrinkled, pain likes exaggerated constantly like that artist who painted the dead on purpose, Vermeer?

The pain medication is also destroying my sex drive, and my sensation. He feels like I don't find him attractive anymore. He tries to touch me and it makes me angry, I don't even know why. It's not fair, to rebuff him like this.

But I don't want to kiss. I don't want to be touched, unless it's a massage, which is the only thing that helps. I want to be locked in a dark room, weightless. I want the constant overwhelming onslaught of sensation to just stop. Every single added stressor or stimulation is excessive, horrible, painful, uncomfortable. It's somehow making smells worse, tastes are distorted. Everything is too salty, or somehow sulfurous, nauseating. Everything smells like bleach, and blood, harsh and disgusting.

I love him for singing in the morning (someone who talks, someone who sings, someone who knows, all my favorite things) he is all I ever wanted, and now I can not stand the noise. I hate myself. I hate what I have become. I am destroying the best relationship I have ever experienced. I want everything to shut up. The meowing cat and the howling dog and the constant onslaught. Never alone never any ceasing to the noise, the sensation, the LOUD pain. It is so LOUD. It demands my attention, it drowns everything out. It screams and screams and screams.

Annoyed by everything. Irritated by any small disagreement, or even comment. Sharp edged and horrible. So mean to him, and he is so loving and so patient, and he tries so hard to be understanding and comforting. But how could anyone possibly tolerate someone treating them like this. I would not blame him for leaving me.

I need help. This can not continue.

That repeats in my brain every day.

This can not continue.

Because even when my head's not spinning, the kitchen sink is leaking,

The hardwood floors are creaking

and you

you're breathing in

and out and in

and out and in

and out.

and I want to put my hand over your mouth...

and say where

where is the silence?

Where

Where is the stillness I thought I'd find

Where. Where is my peace. My peace?

My peace.

My peace of mind.

[flowbeast]

Extra Long Yoga Acupressure Mat Set,Massage Acupuncture Mat Large,Magnetic Mat Acupressure Body mat and Pillow for Neck Back Pain Relief(Gold) Price: [price_with_discount] Customer satisfaction rating 4.5 (according to Amazon product Details) Product description Acupressure mat helps to relax the muscles in your body. Therapeutic massage that will stimulate the release of endorphins, promote blood circulation and improve the quality of sleep, healing and relaxation and maintain euphoric mood. You can use the acupressure mat as an office cushion/sofa cushion/car seat cushion. It can reduce the fatigue caused by working for a long time, promote muscle relaxation, give you a more comfortable experience, and improve work efficiency. Very suitable for post-workout use: relieve muscle soreness after exercise, and the acupressure mat can shorten recovery time. Magnetic therapy is an ancient tradition practiced by millions to help with pain, arthritis, carpal tunnel, migraines, insomnia, knee pain, joint pain, and many other conditions. Package Dimensions: 17.5 x 11 x 8.5 inches; 2.55 pounds First available date: ‎September 2, 2021 Manufacturer ‏ : ‎ CXCTCT ASIN ‏ : ‎ B09F9B8492 EXTRA LONG ACUPRESSURE MAT SET: Our magnetic acupressure mat set is long and big enough to give you a full body massage, loosen superficial and deep muscles. The yoga acupressure mat is large enough to cover your entire back, shoulder, waist or neck. You can also put the acupressure pad under your stomach, chest, face, hip, leg, foot and other positions to massage. Our extra long yoga acupuncture pad has magnetic treatment points to promote pain relief and reduce inflammation!

RELIEF FOR YOUR PAIN - Acupressure massage mat set offers a simple yet effective home solution for back pain, neck pain, shoulder pain, headaches and migraine relief, improves blood circulation, rejuvenates the skin and helps relieve tension. Lying on the long magnetic massage mat for 10-30 minutes a day releases tension in your muscles and assists your body in its vital healing. This serenity sleep inducing mat is the best aid to cure insomnia. PROMOTES RELAXATION AND STRESS RELIEF - Acupressure mat and pillow set helps release tight muscles and relieve stress, speeding up muscle recovery. Acupressure points can stimulate blood circulation, relieve tension and induce deep relaxation, release endorphins which act as the body's natural pain reliever. USE IN MULTIPLE SCENES - The neck back acupuncture pad set is suitable for work, travel and exercise. The soft acupuncture pad fits on the seat, sofa, floor, or bed. Lie down for a therapeutic massage, play your favorite music, and enjoy the good life anytime, anywhere. The yoga acupuncture mat set is more suitable as a wellness gift for parents, family and friends. #Extra #Long #Yoga #Acupressure #Mat #SetMassage #Acupuncture #Mat #LargeMagnetic #Mat #Acupressure #Body #mat #Pillow #Neck #Pain #ReliefGold See more related items: Extra Long Yoga Acupressure Mat Set,Massage Acupuncture Mat Large,Magnetic Mat Acupressure Body mat and Pillow for Neck Back Pain Relief(Gold) Read More: This site is affiliated with Amazon

[apocalypticgargoyle]

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐔𝐌 𝐈 ↟ 𝐓𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐥����𝐝𝐞

↠  summary: After fleeing from the regime taking over the castle, you find yourself under the protection of the renowned Blood God, Technoblade.

↠ fantasy au, slowburn romance

↠  pairing: c!Techno x fm!reader

↠  tw: blood, mentions of gore, mentions of violence

↠  wc: ~2.3k

a/n: This is actually a pretty self-indulgent thing so no characters or plotlines will really be accurate. As always, my series(es) are at the mercy of my inbox so if you have any comments/ideas/want to make a moodboard, let me know! Happy reading :)

♡ ᵍᵉⁿᵉ

The leaves crunched beneath your feet with every dragging step, your strides heavy and uneven as you clutched your side. Sticky ribbons of crimson threaded through your fingers, oozing from between your ribs as each movement sent a new flash of white, stabbing pain to echo through your body. Your toes were growing numb, and your vision was blurring at the edges.

The snow stirred pink in the steep trenches you had begun to cut into the earth. As your lungs burned with each gulping breath, you wondered how long you could make it in this state. Where had you even been going in the first place? You couldn’t remember at this point, only that you were running.

Each time you figured you could go on no longer, your body somehow managed to carry you further. The uphill incline you were now grappling with left your knees buried and the chill of hypothermia began to take effect.

Bright flairs torn open the darkness of the sky, a sign they were looking for you in the woods now. Surely, they would see the trail of struggle you had left behind and would follow you. The shrieking noise of the lights scrapped against your eardrums, adding to the intense beating of your heart already pounding against your damaged ribs.

Your ice-cold fingers reached for the trunks of the slender trees masking your identity, hoping for any signs of leverage to propel yourself forward and away from the noise of the bloodhounds and nearby circuits of soldiers and their braying steeds. The light from the flairs illuminated the scenery around you, the shadows of the trees stretching across the snow like bony limbs aching to entangle their prey.

Your teeth dug into your bottom lip as searing pain rippled through one of your legs. Tears stung your eyes as you avoided looking at the flesh now torn from your worn body as you dislodged your knee from a tree root buried in the snow. The frustration weighing on your tired body was overcoming your earlier adrenaline.

You scorned yourself as you looked down at the blood seeping from your mangled limbs and into the crystal snow. So much blood, you thought, finding it difficult to lift your head as you propelled yourself further up the hill. The dogs were nearing your location, the flairs becoming more sporadic as if they knew exactly where you were. Maybe your mind was draining as your blood further spread against your skin.

You had lost feeling in your legs, the warmth of your blood pooling in your shoes was no longer a reality check for you. Your eyelids felt as heavy as stone as your chest ached for rest, a burn of exhaustion settling in your lungs. Your knees buckled beneath you, digging into the blanket of white as your body sighed in relief at stopping. You knew you needed to move further. You needed to put more distance between you and the men, but you were so tired.

As your body began to fold in on itself, you could barely make out a figure standing before you. Animalistic eyes of panic and confusion burned into your figure. His cloak drifted against his stature in the nipping winter breeze. Neither of you moved at first, your cheeks burning from your tears and the cold. He watched you, unsure of your next move or if you even had the life force to pick yourself up enough to be a threat.

You weren’t sure how, but suddenly you found yourself staring at the night sky, your corpse cradled by the icy snowdrifts. Large flakes of translucent white flakes made it seem as if the stars were falling towards you, swirling around the tree limbs and avoiding their grasp. As the black sky began to blur your vision, your body began to feel lighter, the urge to relax becoming overwhelming as you no longer heard the dogs, only the sound of the snow hitting the ground could break through your calm as your eyelids drifted shut.

Bright light streamed into your room, burning your eyes slightly as you came to. Your mind panicked, realizing the sweet smell infiltrating your senses was completely unfamiliar to you. You hesitated to reopen your eyes, your ears picking up on a quiet scrapping noise somewhere in the room you were laying. Your body was stiff; sore even. You could feel someone else in the room. You could tell the other presence wasn’t paying you any mind, but the fact that they were there startled you. Could they be waiting to kill you? Did it matter if you were dead anyway?

You finally mustered enough courage to open your eyes, a bare wood ceiling staring back at you. You turned your head to the side, finally spotting the other person. You could tell by the broadness of his shoulders that it was the man in the woods. Images from that night flashed into your mind as you looked at him. The look of worry that had painted his features into pitted darkness was wiped clean, instead, a healthy calm settled over his face.

His feet were kicked up at the end of your bed, a book resting on his lap as he leaned back in an old chair. He held a bright green apple and a knife, lazily cutting a slice for himself as his eyes skimmed the pages like he’d read the words over and over in the past. A blush crept to your cheeks as your gaze traveled to the part of his chest peeking from beneath his open shirt. His pink hair was braided back with a hint of messiness like the escaping tendrils were planned. What wasn’t tied back hung freely around his strong shoulders.

It scorned you to think in such a way, but you figured you really were dead and some Roman god was waiting to send you to the Fields of Mourning, or, more accurately in your case, Tartarus.

As you moved to sit up, pain spiked throughout your body, joints aching with soreness and the sharpness of your wounds signaling your nerve endings. You groaned, attempting to fight through your instinct to cry. The man watched you, an eyebrow raised in your direction as his deadpanned expression surveyed your actions. He cut another piece of apple off, the blade pressing against the pad of his thumb without bother.

“You should probably hold still,” he stated, ruby irises flashing over your pathetic state. You eyed him carefully before lowering yourself back into the pillows. You reached up to touch the cut that you knew would scar from one of the men. Their blade had sliced across your cheek; a failed attempt to decapitate you. Your brows furrowed slightly as your fingers moved into your hair, finding it crudely cut near the bottom of your ears. You looked at him, mustering the panic you felt into your expression. His eyes softened in guilt. “I’m sorry. I had to hide you rather quickly after you passed out. It worked,” he mumbled the last part.

You swallowed; the dryness of your throat felt like sandpaper as you opened your mouth to speak. “Where’s my bag?” You croaked; your voice as foreign to you as the man sitting before you.

He wet his lips as he sat forward in the chair, settling his feet on the ground and his elbows on his knees. You watched his muscles flex as he moved. You could tell he was no stranger to manual labor, and by the slight dusting of sunburn painting his nose beneath his freckles, you figured he usually spent more time outside. The sunspots reminded you of your friend, Dream; a man that now helped to lead the tetrarchy dismantling the kingdom.

“I’ve hidden it. Just until I know you won’t kill me, or until you’re better,” he answered plainly. “I know what nightshade can do.” You narrowed your eyes at him slightly, your fingers curling around the soft blankets covering you. He stood, sticking the book into a spot in the array of shelves lining the walls from floor to ceiling. “I seem to be sheltering our local Locusta, huh?” He quipped.

You wet your lips. “Just because I travel with nightshade doesn’t make me an Emperor killer,” you grumbled, watching the way his shirt gave little heed to his strong frame. The curtains moved in the slight breeze swirling into the room.

The man moved toward you, dragging the chair closer to your head. “They sure went after you like you were,” he stated bluntly.

You perked an eyebrow at him. “From one point of view, it could seem like that…” you jested.

He smirked slightly, shaking his head before pulling back your covers. You almost shrieked at the sight of all the bandages twisting around your limbs. You wiggled your toes, sighing in relief that you paralyzed from the waist down. If you didn’t move, you didn’t hurt, but as soon as you angled yourself upward to lean on your elbows, your whole body protested in pain. The man skimmed his fingers along the bandages wrapping around your shin. You could practically feel the heat of his body seeping into your own.

You watched his delicate fingers smooth an edge that was ruffled from the sheets and you moving about. “This one was rather deep,” he commented, his fingers then traveling towards your side as his ruby eyes danced from yours to your bandages. Your breath hitched at his closeness, his presence commanding. “A friend of mine helped me stitch you up over here.”

“Were you the one that dressed me?” You snarked, letting your eyes travel the length of his body.

He chuckled lowly, pulling the blankets back over you and sitting back in the chair. He tucked some of his hair away from his face, kicking his feet up on the bed again. “I had to,” he answered. You chewed on your bottom lip, your eyebrows giving away your slight flirtations. You knew he was only humoring you because you were his injured little bird. “I’ve seen a naked woman before. Calm down,” he grumbled.

You smirked, tucking your arms behind your head. “Oh, you have now?” He bit into the apple he was holding, the blush creeping to his eyes not going without notice by you. “How long have I been out, oh great Asclepius?” You joshed, making him chew the inside of his cheek.

His eyes drifted towards the window in thought before slightly furrowing his brows. “Just over a week,” he replied. “Should I be concerned about your knowledge of Roman history over Greek?”

You scoffed, partially in disbelief for how much time had elapsed, partially in response to his question. “Should I be concerned of your favoring of Greek history?” The corner of his mouth turned up slightly. “Perhaps we’re just destined to be emulations of each other then?”

“Maybe so,” he concurred. The stoicism of his façade seemed to crack around you. As he smiled at you, he bore small fangs, something that seemed all too familiar to you. Your mind began to race, attempting to place his features with a name or, at the very least, a legend.

Your mind clicked, Dream’s voice flashing into your mind from when the two of you were sitting in a tavern, discussing the Blood God of the western woods. Your heart began to pick up speed as reality had settled in of how vulnerable to you in front of such a beast. Your mind ran blank and cold as you looked at him, suddenly terrified that if you dare close your eyes again, he would kill you.

You had not expected him to be so… alluring. You’d heard stories of his piglin appearance, his wild tusks, and even cloven hooves. The man before you looked like a character pulled from an ancient storybook, not someone who had torn some of your acquaintances' limb from limb. Dream always mocked a prayer to the old gods each time his name was mentioned. They told stories of the man in orphanages like the ones you’d been passed between.

Now, as you sat like a wounded animal in the gaze of the Blood God, you wondered which of the pair of you would kill the other first. “Not feeling so chatty anymore, Locusta?” He teased.

You could feel the color draining from your face. “I know who you are.” You swallowed harshly. “Why did you help me?”

He sighed, chuckling to himself. “I thought you were pretty,” he teased. You folded your hands on your chest, looking up at the ceiling once again. “I no longer live up to my legacy,” he answered.

“I’m a killer.” You turned your head to look at him, receiving his indifferent expression head-on. “I could kill you.”

He wet his lips. “I could kill you,” he mirrored. “Wouldn’t it be more fun if we didn’t, though?”

You stared at him blankly. “Is this a trick?”

He scoffed. “I would have left you out in the snow if I planned on killing you. I would have given you up when the Royal Guard came knocking down my door,” he paused for a second. His eyes analyzing you as you controlled your breathing. “I would have slit your throat at the sight of the Mad King’s mark. Trust me, I have no intention of killing you.”

Your fingers reached to brush against the branded scar on your shoulder; a triquetra knot symbolizing your loyalty to the Mad King and his sons. It set you apart from the normal guard; you were an advisor and a trusted associate of the King. After the fall of the monarchy, you’d been on the run because of it. What you’d once worn as a badge of honor was now proving to be the sigil of your downfall.

Despite your mellowing fear of him, your mind searched for answers. “Who are you if not the Blood God?” You questioned, the silence between the two of you breaking hesitantly.

“Techno,” he replied, his eyes searching your face as if he were looking for your approval.

You pushed yourself to roll onto your side, gazing at him with calculating eyes, wanting to understand him completely. “I like Asclepius better,” you whispered.

[arrowflier]

I'm hoping this gets queued up in time for Christmas. Can we get some Christmas time gallavich? I don't really have a plot. Maybe their Christmas eve and morning 2021. Or maybe their a future Christmas when Brit and Mina are around. Dealer's choice.

Skipping straight to this one for the holidays! I posted a 2021 Christmas Eve ficlet for Calli yesterday (here on AO3) so today I decided on:

Through the Years

A look at Christmas mornings throughout their lives together.

2019

"mickey."

It's a whisper, quiet and soft.  It tickles the hair at the nape of his neck, the way eerie things do, but all he feels is exasperated affection as he tucks his face into his single, threadbare pillow.

"Mickey."

It comes again, on the heels of the first, a fraction louder this time.  Accompanied by dry lips against his skin, a hand heavy over the blanket covering his hip.  He leans into the touch, but keeps his eyes closed, where he can pretend that something better lies behind the darkness of his eyelids.

A sigh.  A shiver as the body behind him sits up, leaving space quickly filled by cold air.

"Mickey, wake up."

Too loud, now, for where they are.  Too loud to keep from getting caught in each others beds like kids sneaking in through windows, by men that were more likely to turn them in than to turn a blind eye.

So Mickey wakes up.  Sits up, hip to hip with his cell mate, his life mate.  And smacks him on the shoulder hard enough to bruise.

"The fuck you yellin' for?" he asks as Ian hisses, rubbing his arm.  "I told you, this only works if we don't draw attention."

"Sorry," Ian mumbles, suitably chastened by the very idea of being separated.  "I just..."

Mickey sighs when he trails off.  Reaches up to rub a thumb over the lip Ian is biting, tugging it free of white teeth.

"What?" he asks, softer.  "What's going on?"

Ian smiles, a soft tender thing.  Kisses the pad of Mickeys thumb, still pressed to his worried lower lip.

"Just wanted to say Merry Christmas," he murmurs.  "Saw the calendar yesterday, and."  He shrugs, still smiling.  "I don't know," he says.  "Just felt important."

Oh.

"Just another day," Mickey says, nonchalant.  "Nothing special about Christmas when you spend it in the joint."

He's trying to play it down.  Trying to lower the expectations that Ian seems to have, knowing that the holiday would mean next to nothing inside.  Maybe an extra portion at dinner, or a card from a stranger, or a phone call with family if they were lucky and fast.

But there would be no presents.  No songs, no cheer.  No matter how much he wishes he could give that to Ian.

But Ian doesn't seem disappointed.  Doesn't seem put out at all by Mickey's uncaring charade.

He only smiles wider.  His eyes only grow softer.  And his words, when they come, are everything Mickey needs to hear.

"Its the most special Christmas I've had," he whispers, quiet again as he leans in close.  As he wraps arms around Mickey's shoulders, and rests their foreheads together.

"After all," he says, still beaming, " I'm spending it with you."

2020

"Uncle Mickey, Uncle Mickey!"

It's too early for the level of noise in this godforsaken house.  He knows because it's still dark in the room, even with their broken blinds.  And because Ian, the perpetual early riser that he is, is still wrapped around his back like a fucking octopus.

"Uncle Mickey, wake up!"

He groans.  Tries to ignore it.  Settles back even more into Ian's sleep-loose arms, Ian who's so used to this nonsense that he's barely even stirred.

It goes quiet, just for a moment.  A blessed relief that has Mickey sighing into the pillow, relaxing, drifting back off into slumber.

The door creaks open.  Little feet pad across the floor.  The edge of the bed dips, then settles.

Then there are sharp knees on Mickey's side, cold hands on his face, and the next "Uncle Mickey!" is yelled right into his ear.

"Fuuuuck," he groans, twisting to get Franny's pointy limbs off of his sensitive areas.  She falls into the space his movements create between him and Ian, giggling like a fool, and Ian still only wakes enough to latch onto her in Mickey's absence.

"What's the deal, Little Red?"  Mickey grumbles, rubbing sleep from his eyes and aches from his abused side.  "Thought your momma told ya not to barge in here like that."

"But it's Christmas Uncle Mickey!" she cries, twisting out of Ian's half-awake hold.  "You have to come see what Santa brought me!"

"What Santa brought, huh?" Mickey repeats, watching Ian tickle her while pretending he's still asleep. "Not what I brought you?  Guess I'll have to take some things back..."

"No!" Franny squeals, turning it into a shriek when Ian plants a raspberry on her flailing arm.

"Well if you're sure," Mickey teases, swinging his legs off the bed.  "Better go grab those presents before I get to em."

Franny is off the bed in seconds, careening through the door so fast Mickey winces when she almost takes herself out on the frame.  He peeks out, watches her make it safely down the stairs just in case, her thundering footsteps joining the general cacophony of too many people downstairs.

"Come back to bed," Ian mumbles behind him.  "Wanted to have a lazy Christmas morning with you."

Mickey smiles into the empty hallway.  Turns back to look at Ian, green eyes barely open, red hair missed on white sheets.

"Think that'll have to wait, Gallagher," he says, walking back toward the bed.  He leans down to card a hand through that messy hair, Ian's eyes fluttering shut at the gentle pressure.

"Sorry," Ian murmurs.  "Know it's gonna be a lot for you."

And it will be.  A lot of noise, a lot of people.  A lot of things he isn't used to.

A lot of things that are quickly becoming his new normal anyway.

"It's fine," he whispers, brushing a kiss over Ian's crinkled brow.  "They're family."

Ian's resulting smile is better than all the lie-ins in the world.

"Yeah," he breathes, beaming.  Tugs Mickey down into an awkwardly positioned kiss.

"Merry Christmas, Mickey," he murmurs into his mouth.

And it is.

2021.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Gallagher."

Mickey smiles into the arm his head is nestled on, reaches back to stroke a hand through short, soft hair.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Milkovich," he rumbles back, before turning over to blink into his husband's sleepy green gaze.  Ian's eyes go soft.

"You ever gonna get tired of that?" Mickey asks, referring to their titles.

Ian smiles.

"Never," he says, and moves his head closer.  "You?"

"Nah," Mickey answers, then grins.  "But I think you're supposed to go by a different name today, Santa."

Ian groans.

"Can't believe they're gonna make me wear the suit," he complains, like it wasn't his idea to invite everyone to their place and play the official part.

"I don't know," Mickey muses, smirking when Ian glares.  "Kind dig the white beard; think I might get your kink for old men now."

"Shut the fuck up," Ian grumbles, kissing him quiet.

"You're the only old man I got a kink for," he mumbles when they part for breath.  "The way your joints crack when you ride me is totally sexy."

Mickey snorts.  Then twists them around, Ian on his back and Mickey on top, and grinds down onto Ian's awakening body.

"I'll show you old," he mutters, letting Ian hold his hips as he moves.  "How long have we got before the crazies get here?  Gotta give you a realistic aching back."

Ian just grips him tighter, eyes bright.

"We got as long as we want," he assures.  "Don't gotta answer the door til we're ready."

Mickey laughs, picturing their family waiting impatiently outside while they do their thing.

"Merry fucking Christmas, then," he says, and goes about making it one.

2022.

"Mickey." 

A too-loud whisper hissed into his ear, hot and wet and way too fucking awake.

"Mickey, wake up."

He mumbles something into the pillow, ignoring Ian's breath on the side of his face, panting hard and smelling of kibble.

Wait...

His eyes pop open.  The hair half in his mouth isn't red, but so dark its almost black, and the eyes staring into his are a deep soulful brown.

"The fuck?" he groans, then sputters when a wide red tongue swipes over his face.

"What's the dog doing in the damn bed, Ian?" he asks, shoving the beast away to wipe ineffectively at his face.  " Thought we said that wasn't gonna happen."

"But it's Christmas," Ian pouts, giving him eyes as sorrowful as the dog's and twice as compelling.

"Well shit," Mickey mutters, and gives up keeping that overeager tongue at bay.  "Merry Christmas, I guess."

Ian beams, and takes a running leap at the bed.  Lands on the other side of the dog, gathers them both up as human and canine limbs flail in unison.

"Merry Christmas," Ian says, and kisses both their heads.  "Tell me when you're ready for breakfast, I made you something special."

"You're something special," Mickey mutters, relaxing into their warmth.

Ian's laugh lulls him back into an early Christmas morning nap.

2024.

"Shit!"

Ian's voice sounds panicked, on high alert.  Enough that Mickey actually startles awake, reaching out for a warm body that isn't there.

 "Mickey, get up!"

Mickey rolls half off the bed before catching himself, bleary eyes shooting open to see Ian careening around their room, frantically tugging on clothes and gathering up the handful of presents they hadn't gotten under the tree the night before.

"What's goin on?" he asks, finding his feet.  "The house burnin down or somethin?"

Ian turns to him eyes wild.

"It's after eight," he hisses.  "And we haven't even started Christmas."

Mickey stops still where he stands, one hand pulling up his sweatpants and the other on the door knob ready to fling it open.

"Wait," he says, mind catching up.  "Why's that a problem?"

Ian stares.

"We have a kid now, Mickey," he says slowly.  "Who's probably been waiting for us for hours already."

Mickey blinks.

"Haven't heard her."

Ian blinks back.  Twice.

"So?"

"So," Mickey says, "in my experience with your crazy family, kids don't just sit quietly when they want somethin."

"Oh."

They stand and watch each other.  Mickey starts to inch toward the bed again, ready to coax Ian into a lie-in, when Ian halts him again with just a few words.

"Brit doesn't know she can want things yet."

And fuck it all, he's right.

"Okay, I got the toys," he says seconds later, juggling too many bags for a toddler that's not used to gifts.  "You got the clothes?"

"And the candy," Ian confirms, pushing past him out the door.  "I'll fill the sticking while she opens the--"

"The what?" Mickey prompts, almost running into Ian's back in the hall.

"Never mind," Ian whispers.  "I think we have time."

Mickey's brow tightens.  He grips the gift bags tight, goes up on his toes to look over Ian's shoulder.

And promptly relies on his husband's larger frame to keep him standing, his chin heavy on that broad shoulder.

"Yeah," he agrees, the words barely making a sound.  "Think you're right."

Because right there on the living room sofa, tucked under a festive holiday blanket and forty pounds of dig, Brit is sleeping.  Face toward the tree, still lit, hand resting on the new plush bear her Uncle Carl had given her last night, feet poking out and garbled in socks her Uncle Lip had knit.

"Think we should wake her?" Ian asks.  "Don't know what time she came out."

"Nah," Mickey answers.  Turns his head enough to kiss the skin under Ian's ear.

"Let her sleep," he decides, watching her again.  "She's got everything she wants right there."

2027.

"Daddy daddy daddy!"

Not again.

"It's Christmas, get up!"

Was one day of sleep too much to ask?

"It's time for presents, daddy!"

Apparently so.

"Mickeeey."

And apparently his husband was in on it.

"What?" he spit out, sitting upright in a motion quick enough to make his vision go brown.

When it cleared, he was greeted with three sheepish faces.  Green eyes and brown, all fixed on his face, all waiting for his next words.

"This some kind of holiday intervention or somethin?" he manages.  "Cause I'm thinkin it sounds like you don't want your presents..."

The couple starts with Ian, tackling him back onto the mattress.  Showing the girls how it's done.  They clamber up after him, all elbows and knees and laughing faces, smothering him in kisses and tickles and oddly sun Christmas tunes while he pretends to suffer and burn from the onslaught of cheer.

It ends with Basil, because of course it does.  Thundering into the room on giant paws, plowing through the bodies on the bed to lick a stripe up Mickey's face.

"Ewwww," two girls and Mickey all say at once, such a perfect mimic of each other that Ian falls over laughing

"It's just a little Christmas kiss," he tells them, patting the dog on his wagging behind.  "Basil just wants in on the fun!"

"Well he can wait his turn," Mickey says firmly, sitting up again with a daughter under each arm.  "Cause I think Santa left some shit for these two naughty suckers."

He shakes them a little, childish giggles as bright and merry as the bells from the church down the street, and meets Ian's eyes over their heads and the dogs wiggling ass.

"Merry Christmas," he mouths to his husband, who smiles.

"Merry Christmas," he gets back, before he's tackled once again to the bed.

2043.

"Go back to sleep, Mick."

Ian's voice is soft, just loud enough to carry from the door of the bathroom.

"Not if you're up," Mickey mumbles, patting around on the nightstand for the glasses he still swears he doesn't need.

Ian's hand falls on his, stilling it.

"I'm not," he says, " just checking my phone."

"And?" Mickey prompts, kissing his palm quick before scooting back to make room on the mattress.

"The girls won't be home until later," Ian tells him, slipping back into bed next to him. He pulls the covers back up, rests his head next to Mickey's on the pillow.

"Brit's flight got delayed, and Mina's friend is driving her in after lunch."

"Friend," Mickey snorts, and Ian pinches his arm under the blanket.

"Thats what she calls them," he says, "so that's what they are."

"Yeah yeah, I know," Mickey assures. "Just wish she knew she could tell us."

"She has," Ian counters. "We just aren't great at listening."

"Speak for yourself," Mickey mutters, but softens it with a smile.

"You know what I think she'd like for Christmas?" Ian asks.

Mickey shakes his head, hands soft on Ian's chest as he's pulled in toward it.

"Think she'd like it if we played nice with the friend," he says, and Mickey huffs a quiet laugh.

"Yeah, okay," he acknowledges, tracing shapes in the hair on Ian's chest. "No more shovel talks for the friend."

"A Christmas miracle," Ian teases, and kisses his head. "And now for my next trick," he continues, and rolls over on top of Mickey.

Mickey laughs.

"It is your best trick," he says, leaning up.

"Merry Christmas," Ian murmurs, and meets him.

2050.

"Grandpa!  Get up!"

Mickey sighs. He's been up for hours already, back sore and muscles aching from the effort of keeping his grandchildren occupied the previous night. The only reason he's still in bed now is Ian, snoring beside him, sleeping the best he has in days now that their house is full again.

"Grandpa!" one of the kids yells again, and he hoists himself from the bed with a groan, brushing back Ian's greying curls as he goes while his husband mumbles into the pillow.

"I'm here, you little ingrates," he mutters when he opens their bedroom door. "Now keep it down, your pops is sleeping."

"But it's Christmas!" little Noel cries, and Mickey shushed him.

"It'll still be Christmas later," he says in a stage whisper, flicking the boy's ear affectionately. "But you know what you can only do right now?"

"What's that Grandpa Mick?" Elaina asks, blue eyes wide.

Mickey's smile is slow, and wicked.

"I ever tell you how your mom and Aunt Mina used to wake us up on Christmas?" he asks, and watches their eyes brighten.

2084.

"Wake up, old man."

The words sneak through Mickey's dreams, winding through feelings of warmth and lights and love.

 "Kids will be here soon."

"They haven't been kids for a while," Mickey murmurs. "Not any of them."

"I don't know," Ian muses, nosing along Mickey's smooth jaw. "Elaina's new baby still counts, I think."

Mickey snorts, breath fluttering Ian's sleep shirt.

"Can't believe we have great grandkids now, man," he says, voice light. "Never fucking thought that would happen."

"I did," Ian reveals, nestling in close. "Cause your a great fucking dad."

He kisses Mickey's nose, ignoring the way it crinkles.

"A great fucking everything," he adds, and Mickey kisses back.

"Alright, alright," Mickey says when they pull back, more minutes later than he expected. "Thought we had to get out of bed and get ready, old man."

"Nah," Ian says, and kisses him again. "Presents first."

Mickey laughs.

"Merry Christmas to me," he murmurs, and let's Ian pull him in again.

2097.

"Mina."

It's a whisper, quiet and soft.  Just loud enough to hear from the cracked-open door.

"Mina, wake up."

It's louder the second time. Enough to echo. Enough to wake her, tired and grumbling, face separating from her pillow with a wet schnick.

"Rebecca?" she asks, squinting toward the door.

Her best friend smiles gently from the opening, dressed and ready.

"Hey there, sleepy head," she greets, and steps into the room. Sits on the edge of the bed, cards her hand through Mina's fine hair.

"Merry Christmas," Rebecca says, then, " you sure you're up for this?"

For hosting, Mina knows she means. For carrying on the traditions her father's started, the traditions that she grew to love. For having Brit here, and her nieces and nephews, and their children and friends and everyone.

For doing it all just mo the after losing the only men she would ever love

She reaches up, tangles their fingers together. Smiles at her friend, her partner, her platonic everything.

"I'm ready," she promises, and swings her legs out of bed. "Let's get everything ready for our guests."

[imaslutforremusandsirius]

Tease

Wanted to try a male reader for once and i really enjoyed writing this :) One of my favs dare I say. Have fun!

Warning: 18+

---

„You said you didn‘t want it!“ Sirius exclaimed, throwing his hands up in defense when you threw the empty chocolate pack at him.

„I was being polite!“ You protested, „Posh boys like you should know that!“

Sirius‘ eyes narrowed and he threw the pack at your head this time. „I am not a posh boy, fucker. You better fucking kiss my feet or I will-“

You tackled him with a cry, hitting his face repeatedly with a pillow. Your body jerked on top of his rhythmically, which either meant that he was laughing or chocking to death. And you really hoped it be the latter.

„Don‘t you fucking dare asshole! You promised not to bring it up!“

His next words came out muffled from underneath the soft fabric, which began to feel not so soft, considering that you were pressing pretty hard. Sirius started to panic and yelled out a „Help! Help! I‘m dying!“

You felt strong arms wrap around your stomach and drag you away from your murder mission.

„Let me go! He needs to die!“

James was laughing so hard at Sirius‘ horrified face that even he had trouble keeping you at bay.

„This is bullying! I‘ll tell Minnie! You fucking lutanic!“

„Minnie doesn‘t care about your sob story, she would be delighted to find out I killed you before she could with all of your missing homework!“

Sirius barreled towards you with a battle cry, but James threw you to the side, effectively blocking the tackle with his body. Sirius must have aimed to hurt you a little, because James fell down with an painfully loud thud.

„Bloody hell, Pads. That bloody hurt.“ James groaned, rubbing his ribs soothingly.

Sirius scrambled up and helped his friend off the ground, throwing you a dark look. You sneered at him, sitting down on the bed farthest away. James grinned at his friend, mouth opening to make fun of him.

„How could he hold you down like that? He‘s smaller than you!“

Sirius huffed, blushing a little with embarrassment and he turned away, presumably to hide his red cheeks. „He had an advantage. I was being strangled, mind you.“

„Strangled my ass“ you said under your breath and crossed your arms petulantly. „He made fun of me. Again!“

James raised a brow in amusement, eyes flickering towards you and you groaned when you saw his expression. Here we go.

„Is it about a certain wolf?“

Sirius turned around so fast you heard his ankles crack and moved to stand next to his friend, delighted to have him at his side and chuckled. Your scowl darkened and you got up, trying to push though your friends to leave.

„Fuck off, both of you. I‘m leaving.“

Sirius stopped laughing and raised his hands in defeat. „Oh come on, don‘t be ridiculous, we‘re only taking a piss mate.“

Your mouth fell open to hurl more curses at him when you saw Remus appear behind the two boys and clamped your mouth shut again. Fuck, was your hair alright? You secretly smoothed it over, glaring at James when he wiggled his brows suggestively.

„Alright, everyone?“ Remus asked, voice exhausted and he fell down next to you on the bed, sighing with relief when his aching joints didn‘t have to carry his weight anymore. The moon was taking a toll on him.

„Are you alright?“ Your voice came out worried and you stroked through his messy curls. Remus only let out a tired „Mhm“ as he sank down further into the mattress, pressing into your hand.

„Is it the moon?“

„Mhm.“

„Are you hurting already?“

Sirius chimed in from his bed. „I think it‘s safe to say that the old man is always hurting.“

You glared at him. „Shut up, Black. No one asked you.“

Sirius huffed and turned his back towards you with a dramatic toss of his dark hair, pulling his curtains closed.

This time James spoke up, peaking his head from the corner of the bathroom door. Some of his toothpaste spilled over when he opened his mouth and you grimaced at the disgusting sight. James and Sirius seemed to share one braincell. A part-time braincell, that was clearly rusty at this point from being so rarely used.

„Need anything?“

Remus jerked, clearing jostled awake from his little slumber and groaned in annoyance. „Peace and quiet. Oh wait, that‘s death.“

You couldn‘t help the snort that escaped you at his deadpanned tone and whacked him on the head. Remus cracked an eye open and smiled at your amusement. You schooled your expression and held your hand up in a mock salute.

„No one is dying. And if, then we‘ll do it together.“

There was a series of Amen‘s and you nodded in satisfaction, like a general who never liked being told no. Already dressed in your pajamas, or actually only your pajama pants, you crawled into your own bed, across from Remus‘. You wished that Remus would have clasped your wrist and made you stay, he did that sometimes, but alas it was just a wish. You had it bad for the boy, fingers still tingling with the feel of his hair. You thought about what it would be like to kiss him, to touch his scars and feel his breath on your face when you slept.

You huffed frustratedly when your brain forced stupid scenarios into your mind. Fuck, were they nice ones at that.

No, he isn‘t gay, brain! Fucking stop with the mental images!

Your brain decided to one up itself and showed you a very suggestive image of Remus on his knees, sucking your dick with such contentment it made your breath hitch.

Fuck.

Or Remus on his hands and knees, every little detail of his body on display, making such lovely keening noises you thought you had died for sure.

Oh fuck.

You opened you eyes instantly to stop the dirty thoughts of your best mate, mind you, and tried to calm your breathing. Apparently, meditation is a hoax, because no matter how many sheeps you counted or deep breaths you took, your brain was still convinced that Remus sucking you off was the hottest thing ever. And it is the hottest thing ever, you agreed. So did your raging boner.

Only this once.

Against your better judgement your hand trailed down your chest towards your pants, slipping under the waistband of your underwear. Your hand wrapped around your hard cock and imagined Remus on top of you, kissing your lips feverishly. Groaning and moaning into your mouth, telling you how good you feel around him. Telling you how long he had waited for this moment. Biting your lip you moved faster, stifling your groans when your palm spread your precum over the sensitive tip. You were so close, head thrown back in pleasure, fuck so close so clo-

„Shit sorry!“

Somehow you managed to pick up a shocked gasp through your trance and your eyes opened wide, jerking violently. And here he was, the source of your inescapable desire. Remus fucking Lupin. Who just caught you wanking. Your brain has meanwhile decided to pack its suitcase and piss off, because suddenly you couldn't produce a single clear sentence. It felt like being a baby all over again, not knowing how to use your voice or twists your tongue to get the right words out. Not that there was anything to say, you couldn’t just pretend like you weren’t touching yourself.So, you just stare at him like a moron, your hand still in your fucking pants. Slowly but surely you felt your face heat up and you didn't even dare to breathe loudly, too scared to scare Remus away.

His eyes were fixed on your hand, teeth biting his lip. Not knowing what to do, he apparently decided to just stand there. The curtains of your bed were gripped tightly in his fist, as if it were the only thing that kept him steady at the moment. The both of you stared at each other for a good minute, digesting the embarrassment of the situation until Remus climbed into your bed.

Wait. 

Alarm bells rang shrill in your head, the nerve cells in your skull burst into panic. 

Remus in your bed. 

Crawling between your legs. 

Your hand still in your pants. 

What.

„Let me help?“ Remus‘ voice was raspy, slightly scared that you‘ll reject him. He was seated between your knees now, wringing his scarred hands nervously. It took you a few seconds to register what he had said as you blinked at him in mortification. 

Remus hung his head, nodding to himself as if he had known that this would happen and moved away. Fuck, no come back. Brain! Say something!

Your brain was still hyperventilating however, so your legs decided to give you a hand, definitly under the order of your hard cock, which was already throbbing with excitement. You snap your legs shut, trapping Remus’ upper body between your thighs and pulled him on top of you. Not expecting the move, Remus fell forward and his lips smashed on yours.

Oh wow.

This was better than you expected. This exeeds all 638 fantasies you ever had of this moment. This was real.

You kissed for a while, both of you falling into each others arms to feel as close as possible, grinding your cocks on each other like horny teens. Which you were, to be precise. You moved your head to the side to break the kiss, grinning at Remus’ lust hazy expression and bucked your hips up again.

“I’ll have that help now, if you’re still offering...” You whispered, basking in the boyish grin of the wolf.

Moving to wipe your hand on your bedsheet to finally touch him, Remus caught your hand and brought it to his mouth. You whined quietly when you felt his tongue tickle your palm. Remus mmm‘d softly, a devilish glint twinkling in his bright eyes.

Lifting your hips, Remus pulled down your pants and you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch. Nothing in the world could keep your from branding the sight of Remus licking your cock into the depths of your mind. 

Remus leaned in, mouthing at the skin of your stomach, inching closer to your weeping tip. He took his time, breathing your scent in deeply, his eyes closed.

„Come on Moony“ you urged, lifting your hips. Remus held you down, smirking up at you teasingly.

„Either you let me go in my own pace or you can suck it yourself.“

You immediately stilled and made a motion of locking your lips with an imaginary key. Remus chuckled soundlessly and you nearly, nearly, bucked your hips up again. His mouth was so hot and wet and god it was really Remus sucking your cock. The thought alone made you shudder and writhe under him, your hands burried in his curls. Remus may not know much about blowjobs, but he made up for it with his enthusiasm. His moan was just filthy, the way he looked at you through his eyelashes as if he just wanted to devour you, to break you into pieces.

“Oh Remus” you groaned into your fist, knuckles white from gripping his hair so tightly, “Wait ah fuck please wait!”

Remus rolled his eyes and pulled away, raising his brow at you. His facial expression was something akin to “How dare you interrupt me?” 

You took deep breaths to hold yourself from cumming when he smeared the tip of your cock against his glistening lips, coating himself in your cum while he glared at you. This boy is sin.

“Wanna cum with you” you explained breathlessly, pulling him up to smash your lips on his. Remus groaned low in his throat when you sucked his lips, moving to straddle your lap. The rough fabric of his pants made you snort contemptuously and you tugged at the waistband, mumbling an annoyed “Off.”

Remus seemed to agree, with the way he nearly ripped the zipper clean off and finally he was naked. Not fully, but you let him be, knowing he’d be insecure about his scars. You’ll work on that next time. Next time.

Remus placed his hands on his thighs, letting you admire his body. His confidence shot up by the way your breathing got heavier and your cock twitched under his. Every millimeter of your skin is touching, both of you slowly rocking your cocks against the other. Your cum mixed and made it easier to move and you took them in your hands, a huge breath escaping your lips with the sudden rush of electricity. Remus quickly casted a silencing charm and gave into the pleasure, setting a fast pace by thrusting his cock in your fist.

“Fuck you feel so good” Remus groaned and squeezed your wrists, “I’ve wanted this for so long”

You nearly laughed by how ridiculously acurate your fantasies had been and gripped harder, crying out when Remus leaned down to bite your shoulder hard, leaving imprints of his teeth on your flesh.

“’M’not gonna la- oh Moony fuck” You were lost in your pleasure, already sensitive with your denied orgasm from before. Remus slapped your hand away and spit on your cocks, taking them in his hands this time. His pace was aggressive and impatient, hand unyielding and he rocked his hips as fast as he could. 

“Want you to cum on my cock” Remus grunted, his other hand gripping your jaw to look into your eyes. His pupils were blown out, as if he was on a high. You felt him pulse against you, his eyes screwd shut and he came with a loud cry, making you tip over the edge as well. His hand kept going, thighs holding you down when you tried to squirm away. 

Bringing his cum covered hand to his mouth, Remus gave it a tentative lick, eyes fluttering shut when his tongue wrapped around his fingers. You watched him hum around his hand and he gave you a satisfied smile, totally in bliss with your little session.

“This was fucking hot” Remus grinned and fell down next to you, blinking at you tiredly.

You bit your lip and mustered up enough courage to squeak out a “So you’re gay?” 

Remus gave you a flat look. “I came on your cock didn’t I?”

You cleared your throat and laughed quietly. “Yeah. Yeah you did.” Your voice came out dreamy and you threw your leg over his middle.

And just like that you surrendered to your exhaustion, while Sirius and James were hysterical with exicetment. Their shared braincell was activated and currently made it its mission to come up with ways to catch you next time. Embarassing you was their thing after all.

[tinytinybumblebee]

Baby Ed still needs to look after his knee and make sure it gets stretched and rests at the right times, mama has lots of fun games to work around and incorporate his knee care into Eddie's day

!!!! Y e s aaaaa it's important to maake sure Ed's knee is still being cared for when small!

Baby physiotherapy time!! Lots of fun games that just seem to Eddie like Mama is just having fun with him, not knowing that the games are helping his knee from getting bad achey flare-ups (like, Mama putting a rolled towel under Ed's bad knee and Stede having Ed lift his leg as to 'squash' the imaginary dust sprites)

And plenty of massages to the knee! Stede definitely has plenty of oils that are made for pain relief and relaxation♡ So Stede will be cooing and coddling his baby squid while he's stretching and massaging Ed's knee (and Ed is laying on the bed or pillowed ground, getting to be a helper by holding the oil bottle ;u; )

Also, Ed having a second knee brace that is a bit more friendly to when he's tiny (a bit more padding around the joints so if he's crawling, the brace doesn't dig into his skin♡)

[gagmebucky]

His face dips into your shoulder and neck, lips skimming along the slope until he’s brushing your ear. “Just. . . just for added clarity, this isn’t a dream?” He’s genuinely asking, sotto voce and breathy in his wanting disbelief, but never breaking his menacing pace. “This isn’t one of my daily wet dreams about you, and I really have your soft little pussy underneath my fingers right now?”

in which you and steve share the bed. (includes agent!reader x avenger!steve rogers, masturbation, fingering, dirty talk, mild voyeur!bucky.)

do not repost.

—

Though you haven’t thought about it—at least, not before now—you don’t have a nightly routine. Other than the basics, a shower and tying your hair back in a protective style, you’re underneath the covers and it’s lights out. You don’t require anything special nor do you partake in miscellaneous habits.

You like to think that, as a trained operative, you’re grown to be adaptable in the other aspects of your life. The missions, constant moving around and shifting settings, settling down easily is a good skill to have. But there is one thing, which is your occasional insomnia, typically punctuated with a sudden upheaval of arousal. 

It’s just your luck that the hotblooded urge attacks you in the current situation—in the arms of a coworker, several feet shy of another coworker. (A part of you giggles that it’s because you’re in his arms that it’s hitting you and not that it was simply inevitable.)

The job is your run-of-the-mill observe and report but the target you’re gunning for is in the bigger leagues therefore you’re accompanied by two super soldiers who have experience with this particular enemy. But the location has a huge event in the area, and the mission was somewhat out of the blue so all the hotels were booked up. Except for this one, and it only has one room available with two queen beds. 

Agent Barnes, ever the charmer, passed out on the first before you and Agent Rogers even finished checking the place out. And Steve, ever the gentleman, insisted you take the bed and he was fine with the couch. But, you, you and your I’m-totally-cool-and-I-don’t-have-a-crush-on-you facade waved him off, assuring you’re both adults and capable of sleeping in the same bed.

The problem, you now realize, is that while you are an adult and you should be able to sleep soundly next to a coworker-slash-friend, you aren’t. Your libido, it seems, wants to spite you because the second you think you’re tired and ready to succumb to unconsciousness next to the six-foot blond, she awakens. 

Preferring to wash up last, you walked out the bathroom to find that he squished himself on one side. Which you had fondly rolled your eyes at, slipping beneath the duvet then gently tugging his broad mass over. In his sleepy state, he followed your direction seamlessly, and somehow, you two ended up tangled together. 

In the first hour, your mind drifted to very inappropriate places, depraved recollections of those videos you like to watch with one hand down your pants then more personal—but nonetheless perverted—scenarios, authored by you and starring the man beside you. 

The second hour, you registered your amoral thoughts and vehemently worked on denying any further musings as well as the intense throbbing in your nether regions. You hoped to dissuade your feelings with other topics like how you’ll handle the mission tomorrow, and the economical and sociopolitical impact of human Shrek—really, anything not the way he’s nuzzled into you, or the places that could lead.

Right now, well into the third sleepless hour, you’re recognizing how fucked you are (God, you wish you were getting fucked for real). Because you’re so horny it hurts, and there’s no possible way you can sleep until it’s been quelled, and though you’d love to sneak into the bathroom to do the deed—it’ll take you five, ten minutes top—you can’t when Steve is dead asleep and holding you so tight: which, simultaneously, is stroking the fire. Pun intended.

His body coils around yours like a second skin, defined muscular cushion felt through your and his loose shirt, his a tank while yours a tee. He’s a radiator amid an air conditioned room and sheets that aren’t the best insulators. A strong forearm is braced across your partially turned hips, long legs stretched and intertwined with yours.

Quiet breaths inhale and exhale your nape, the tip of his nose nestled against the first ridge of your spine. There’s the intermittent adjustment,  where he snuggles closer, brushing his impossibly soft lips over that spot, mumbling something like, “Don’t. . . don’t go. N - nng, stay,” when you try to slither out of bed, cementing his subconscious grip on you.   

All things considered, you don’t mind it truthfully. In fact, he’s incredibly comfortable, and that those little twitches in his slumber are incredibly cute. You just wish your center would let it be wholesome, and not twist it into something salacious. 

You ponder your options: continue to lie awake until morning, or—or, masturbate there. The position is good, really good for it, now that you think about it. 

You’re halfway on your stomach, one knee hiked high, spread, while the other stretches downward; the corresponding arm is free, though the other is tucked beneath a pillow. 

It wouldn’t take but one movement to sink your hand between that prime spot and satisfy yourself. And, yes, Bucky is snoring with his face aimed toward you, meaning if his eyes flutter open, he might make out what you’re doing in the darkness. 

But, at this point, your need has outweighed your potential embarrassment. 

Your teeth run over your lower lip then you move carefully. With your free wrist, you sink below and flush between your hips, placing the joint of your straightened elbow against his arm. And that contact while you’re doing it should put you on, seriously underline the indecency of your act. 

It doesn’t though. If you’re being honest, there’s a visceral thrill in doing something like this: beneath the nose of two powerful and handsome men, the more vanilla of the duo whose arms you’re in. Your mind echoes something about professionalism but it’s drowned out by a flood of sensations via your fingertips. 

“O - oh,” you whisper inaudibly. The position is good, better than you expected—it’s fucking ace,  you realize, shifting your weight into your fingers, rubbing two of them against your bare clit. You bury your face into the pillow, hoping to muffle your reaction to the relief beginning to course through your veins. 

You’ve always preferred to lay on your back, and to use a silicone helper. (On cases by yourself, or cases where superiors aren’t paired with you, you bring one—a vibe, a pretty color that packs enough of a punch.) But this, right here, oh, it really works. 

Your muscles strain, and your toes curl in their respective positions. That wild throbbing has spiraled into a full-bodied fever, and it’s reaching a fever pitch. You press yourself harder into the pillow, biting down so nothing can escape because here it c— 

“Nng-nng,” Steve’s groan rumbles behind you, a louder uttering than the times before, and your body turns to ice. Rustling, you can feel his long lashes fluttering against the back of your neck, eyebrows furrowing. “Hey.” The grip anchored across your waist tightens, and he breathes in: and your stomach clenches because he has to know, even when he continues groggily, “What are you - what’re you doing?”

“I—” You don’t know what you were going to say but it falls short when he moves. 

His arm lifts so he can follow yours, hands ghosting along until he reaches that spot. He sinks in with you where you’re hot and dripping, and a small choking sound escapes you at the feeling of his rough pads.

It’s then you manage a rasped, “C - can’t sleep.”

“Oh,” he says then his smile tickles your nape, swiping two passes over your slick button, and your moan widens his smile. “Then need some help?”

 Your brain may have short-circuited but you nod, jerky as it may be. “Y - yes,” you speak with a sharp gasp. “That - that would be n - nice.”

Turns out, Captain America is not as vanilla as you previously thought because he doesn’t hesitate to dig right in. His index and ring finger part your sex for his middle to hone in on your clit. Then he’s abusing it in rapid circles that besiege your nerves with stimulation. 

You aren’t expecting him to be so skilled, passionate off the brake of sleep. A high moan tears from your lips, followed by a series of squeaks and whimpers in a lame attempt to quiet yourself. Your body jolts, and your hips careen into his onslaught, encouraging that pressure in your belly. 

His face dips into your shoulder and neck, lips skimming along the slope until he’s brushing your ear. “Just. . . just for added clarity, this isn’t a dream?” He’s genuinely asking, sotto voce and breathy in his wanting disbelief, but never breaking his pace. “This isn’t one of my daily wet dreams about you, and I really have your soft little pussy underneath my fingers right now?” 

“Not - not a dream, Steve!” you gasp, outright writhing into his palm. The fingers you had on yourself are now clawing at the sheets while your frame shakes. “Definitely not a dream.” 

“And those pretty sounds are because of me?” he wonders, a raggedness to his voice that’s mimicked in his merciless fingers. “These f - fucking whimpers and moans you’re makin’. . . trying to muffle so Bucky won’t hear are for me?” 

“God, yes,” you choke, squeezing your eyes shut because his best friend is snoring softly, and you don’t know how but you just know that he’ll know if he awakens now. You rationalize that the embarrassment will be less so long as you don’t see whether his gaze flickers open—which there is a high probability of happening since you’re doing a shit job at being discreet.  

“Okay, good,” he exhales before his teeth latch onto the vulnerable part of your neck, tongue lulling out to soothe the sting, and your entirety is  bucking into him, calling out for the remedy only he has. “Oh, shit - shit. You’re soft—sweet Jesus—you’re soft. I didn’t think someone could be this soft—fuck.”

You swear to God he’s doing his hardest to have you wake up his counterpart because his words are gasoline to a glowing blue fire. His name is a desperate cry on the tip of your tongue, and you’re trying to hold back but between his husky baritone in your ear and swirling caress, it’s becoming impossible. 

“And God, you’re really . . . you’re drenching my fingers and the sheets. How long - how long were you touching yourself in my arms before I woke up? ‘Cause fucking hell, honey.” There’s this almost feral guttural groan he makes on the petname, and it rattles between your thighs.  

“S - Steve—“ you warble, half-whimpered; you’re crossed in warning him about your lack of control and moaning his praise.

“I knew I smelled something sweet, and it’s you. You. You’re sweet, so sweet—“ 

And that’s it. The volcano explodes, and you come crumbling into his hand. In more ways than one because thankfully, he knows you’re going to scream his name and the arm propped beneath the pillow slides under and around to clamp over your vibrating mouth. 

It’s pure euphoria pumping through your blood, lasting far longer than you could have ever caused on your own, possessing you in sporadic tremors until you slump in his arms. Panting, your muscles relax, and he reaffirms his grip on you more comfortably. 

When the stars dissipate and you think you’ve regained your sense, you force yourself to face him because the mortification wants to rear its head, never mind your now sleepy state. Despite the darkness, you can discern some of his handsome features, and it comforts you. 

“T - thanks,” you murmur; you aren’t sure what to say. 

“No, no,” he murmurs back, and his crystal blue eyes are raking over your face. “Thank you. The pleasure was mine. Next time, don’t hesitate to ask ‘cause I - I’ve been thinkin’ about that—thinking about you for awhile now.”

The admission graces a smile on your lips, and you wiggle closer, leaning forward to seal the deal while he does the same. Before you can, however, a voice breaks through the moment: 

“Well, I hope you’re both happy because I’m awake and I’m hard now.”

[mostweakhamlets]

"Papa?"

Aziraphale looks up. Halfway down the spiral staircase is Daniel, gripping the bars in his tiny fists. He peeks between them, little lips stuck out.

"What are you doing up?" Aziraphale asks.

He and Crowley had put their little ones down well over an hour ago. Crowley had turned in himself after a glass of wine and a few complaints about a sore back, and Aziraphale returned to his bookshop below to work for a little longer. Being in the bookshop was the best when there were no customers around, looming around his books.

"I had a bad dream."

"Oh, my darling." Aziraphale meets him halfway up the staircase and takes a hand. "You could have woken daddy. There was no need to come down here."

"But I wanted you to read to me."

Crowley will probably not be hurt that his five year old didn't wake him up, and Aziraphale doesn't mind a little alone time with Daniel.

"Let's get you tucked back into bed," he says. "And you can pick out any book you'd like me to read."

With a quick detour for a glass of water, Aziraphale walks Daniel back to bed. For the time being, he has his own room, and his twin brothers share their room across the hall. Aziraphale is free to turn on the lights and read out the options they had in Daniel's bookshelf with little worry of waking any other little ones.

"Can I have Frog and Toad, please?"

Aziraphale pulls the well-loved book out. "Of course you may."

He squeezes into the tiny bed with Daniel, wrapping one arm around him.

Daniel is already a lanky boy. Crowley insists he'll grow into his legs, which currently make up about 70% of his height. But Aziraphale loves his long legs and freckled knees. He loves how much Daniel is resembling Crowley with his red hair and slender frame, only slightly padded anymore with baby fat.

He wants to hold on to his round cheeks and the gap in his smile from the tooth that fell out a week ago (and what a horror that had been to two beings who were created at middle age). He never wants Daniel to grow another inch, and the inches seem to be piling on every week.

He wants his twins to stay only four, still concerned with learning how to color inside the lines and trying to sneak sweets before dinner. He wants to continue dressing them in matching jumpers and finding matching shoes for them.

He loves Vine as she is, still so tiny she sleeps in her bassinet by their bed. Still so tiny she's a little cross-eyed (and what beautiful, yellow eyes she has) and is nearly bald beside a little tuft of white hair at the very top of her head. So tiny that she's practically helpless.

He wants his children to stay just the way they are, tiny and perfect and so easy to hold and squeeze. So dependent on his cooking and needing to be tucked in and read stories and given milky tea when their tummies are upset.

He's so unaccustomed to this "aging." It feels unnatural to him. And frightening. He doesn't like the screaming of teeth breaking through gums or the whines of itchy, downy, grey feathers being stuck between adult feathers. He doesn't like skinned knees or scraped elbows. He doesn't like how his children are so prone to falling and adult humans chuckling at parks and offering bandages. He doesn't like that he's supposed to expect his kids to hurt in order to grow.

"Are you comfortable, my dear?" Daniel nods, face pressed into Aziraphale’s side. "Alright. 'Frog ran up the path to Toad's house. He knocked on the front door. There was no answer.'"

Aziraphale reads until Daniel dozes off, perhaps a little miracle in place to ward off the final traces of any nightmares lurking still. He tucks Daniel in and tiptoes out of the room and twists the knob so the door quietly settles into place in the frame.

And he's greeted by two pairs of blue eyes.

"What is it, my loves?" he asks.

"Ariel woke up," Sera says. "And he woke me up."

"And Sera said we should get you and daddy."

"Well, here I am. What do my angels need?"

Aziraphale tucks them in and kisses their blonde curls and reads again and thinks about how precious these years are again and twists the doorknob again so that there isn't a sound made as he tiptoes out.

He thinks himself finally free, and his bed looks appealing. Crowley looks appealing, curled on his side, facing Vine's bassinet. He looks so sweet, long hair in his face and mouth parted in sleep. He's only disturbed by the sudden fussing of Vine.

Before Aziraphale can even take off his slippers, he's sliding his arms under her. Crowley sits up and begins swinging his legs over the bed.

"She's probably just hungry," Aziraphale says. "I'll make her bottle. Go back to sleep."

And again, Crowley is probably relieved as his head hits the pillow and Aziraphale doesn’t mind the little extra time with his child.

He carries her out the kitchen and warms up a bottle and supports her little head and brushes the nipple against her lips. She happily drinks as fast as she can, yellow eyes closing again.

"There we are," Aziraphale says. "All that fuss for just a little bit of formula. You know, your brothers never ate as much as you did."

He whispers to her stories about her brothers. How Daniel was such a calm baby it worried them. How the twins ensured there wasn't two hours of sleep to be had, taking shifts to cry at night. How Vine is in the middle of the three of them and then how much Aziraphale loves her little slitted eyes and and her toothless smile.

Aziraphale runs his fingers over her soft cheeks and touches a tiny hand before he lays her back down. He kisses her delicate forehead and settles her next to her daddy, in the safest place in the universe.

"Goodnight, little one," he whispers and waves his hand so that he's in pajamas and his suit is neatly folded on the dresser top.

He hasn't been familiar with exhaustion before, but it's become a dear friend overstaying its welcome over the past five years. It rests in his joints and behind his eyes and occasionally causes a ruckus in his head.

Bed is a relief. And he realizes with a heavy sigh at the alarm clock with neon green numbers that it's well past midnight and in only six short hours, the little ones will be up once again with hungry tummies and restored energy. And Aziraphale will rub his sore eyes, but he'll watch everyone eat pancakes and never want it to end.

"Thank you for that." Crowley's arms circle around him. "You're a good dad."

Aziraphale pats his hand and thinks of babies growing every day and bedtime stories and wiggling teeth. "I'm trying my best."

[shutupandshipit]

Sleepless Nights - Oneshot

Summary:  It's a sleepless night for Kaminari. When he goes to see if Midoriya is still awake, he finds something he wasn't really expecting.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: T (just for language)

Notes: Have another one of my outside POVs of BakuDeku, this time from Denki's POV.

This was inspired by the doujinshi Antinomie which is a Subverse universe. Subverse is similar to Omegaverse, but there are only two dynamics, Dom and Sub which are chemically determined and do not physically change the body. There are three parts to the doujinshi, but if you decide to check it out, be warned there are hard noncon/rape aspects in the first part between Katsuki and the villain.

Anyway, enjoy my love of this verse!

Kaminari groaned, turning over beneath his covers. He really needed to sleep, but he knew sleep wouldn't come. Not after Monoma had so liberally flexed his dynamic on Kaminari during their joint training that day.

He absolutely hated the whole Dom/Sub dynamics thing. He hated how he was one of the only male Subs in class, in the whole Hero Course! It wasn't really that surprising, Subs were more common in the General Course because it was hard for Subs to become heroes. Some still made it though. Kamui Woods was a Sub as well as Bubble Girl. Probably most surprising of all was Mr. Aizawa. With a quirk like his, it would have made more sense for him to naturally be a Dom, but no. He just rarely reacted to any Dom other than All Might, Present Mic and Midnight.

Midnight was a special case though. Everyone reacted to her. It was a special part of her quirk, but Kaminari wasn't mad about that. Who would be?

He also hated his dynamic because he could feel his body react to any Dom in the area, especially if he didn't take his suppressants regularly. If he missed a day or his time was off, he would be fighting his instincts all day. If Mina was irritated and cut a glare at him (which didn't happen often, but still), he'd be on his knees in an instant clutching at her ankle until she let up.

He noticed though that in his case, it was a little easier for him to resist Doms who didn't have a personal bond with him. If it was Kirishima, Mina, Jirou or Sero though? He was a goner.

The only Dom he never reacted to was Bakugou which was probably the most curious thing about the dynamics. Bakugou was always angry and raising his voice, but never once did Kaminari react to him. It was almost like he was a Sub, but that didn't make any sense because he never reacted to anyone.

Bakugou was indeed an anomaly, but he must have just had an extremely weak dynamic. Or he never flexed his dynamic which also didn't make any sense for his personality.

Kaminari's biggest hope for making it as a Sub Hero was finding his Pair early on. If he found his Paired Dom, then he'd be set. Once a Sub found their Pair, they would never react to another Dom's commands unless that Dom had an exceptionally powerful dynamic like Midnight or All Might.

He never wanted to meet someone like that, but he'd heard that Shinsou had a strong dynamic. He'd had very few interactions with Shinsou since the Sports Festival, but every time they talked, there was a sharp tugging in his chest. He had to wonder what it was, whether it was his natural instincts to react to a strong Dom or if it was something more, but he wouldn't know without truly submitting to Shinsou. He wasn't ready for that as much as he boasted, so he'd just have to wait.

What he couldn't wait for was sleep.

Sleepless nights happened few and far in-between for him, but when they did, they really were sleepless. He'd just lay in bed until his alarm went off in the morning, so usually, he just found something else to do. Or found someone else who was still awake to bother. Generally, he just went to Midoriya who was the only other person who had the occasional bout of insomnia and could help him during times like this without needing anything in return.

So, he wasn't surprised when he padded down the dark hall to find light filtering from beneath his door.

Knocking lightly so he didn't wake anyone else up, he pushed open the door when he heard a soft mumble in return.

He was not expecting to find Midoriya sitting on the edge of his bed with Bakugou between his knees, head pillowed against Midoriya's ample thigh. A thin black leather collar hung loosely from Bakugou's wrist.

Midoriya nodded off, head dipping and lifting every few seconds. His hand was buried in Bakugou's blond spikes, completely still in his doze.

Bakugou looked completely blissed out in his sleep. It was the calmest and sweetest Kaminari had ever seen him look.

His heart raced and jealousy bloomed hot and green in his chest. Frozen in the entryway, he could only stare at them.

'Katsuki is a Sub. Katsuki is a Sub. Katsuki is a Sub. Katsuki is-'

"Holy crap, you're a Sub!" Kaminari shouted before he could stop himself.

Bakugou and Midoriya flung themselves away from each other. Katsuki hit Midoriya's desk with a grunt. Midoriya slammed against the wall by his bed and groaned. The collar flew through the air before landing and rolling to a stop at Kaminari's feet.

The soft air of the moment went up in flames.

"What the fuck?" Bakugou snarled, glaring from Kaminari to Midoriya, "Fucking Deku! I thought you said you locked the door!"

"I thought I had!" Midoriya gasped breathlessly, clutching at his chest, "What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't sleep because of what Monoma did earlier, and I knocked and heard you reply, so I came in, and... and..." His mind leaped for the only logical conclusion. "You're a Pair!"

"Shut it, Dunce Face! Do you want the whole damn dorm to hear you?"

Kaminari paused, pulse still thumping hard enough that he felt his skin pulsing along with it. Dropping his voice, he whispered, "Is it a secret?"

"Well, it sure as fuck ain't advertised!" Bakugou snapped, as irritable as always.

"'Stop'," Midoriya sighed, sliding to the edge of his bed again. They both went still immediately, and relief flooded through Kaminari at the gentle command. "'Kneel, Denki'."

Kaminari sank to his knees with a shuddering sigh of relief and pleasure, and Bakugou glared over at Midoriya.

When Midoriya spoke next, it lacked the flex of his dynamic. "Don't look at me like that, Kacchan. You don't have to deal with being forced to submit like Kaminari does, and you don't realize the strain it puts on his body. We've been through the classes, but it's not the same as experiencing-" He cut himself off with a shuddering sigh. "Class doesn't explain it because the curriculum is geared more towards Doms. It's not like I'm going to do anything with him, this just helps mitigate the effects from others."

"And how often do you two have this little pow wow? Were you going to tell me, or just leave me in the fucking dark?"

Kaminari snorted, and did his best to stifle his giggles. This was the first time he had ever heard Bakugou sound like a jealous boyfriend. It was more fun to watch than he thought.

"What the fuck are you laughing about?" Bakugou snapped at him. The effect was lessened by the fact that not only were they both on the floor, but Bakugou was still propped up on his arms from when he'd thrown himself away from Midoriya.

"It all just makes so much sense now." Kaminari grinned widely. "I'm glad you have your Pair. I mean, I don't think you would have gone through what I do anyway. You're so stubborn, you probably wouldn't react to a Dom's command out of sheer force of will. But it's better to never know, right?"

Bakugou narrowed his eyes, but glanced away, red tinging the tips of his ears and his cheeks.

Midoriya smiled at him. "I probably don't have to ask you this, but um, our relationship isn't something people know about? We'd rather keep it under raps, so if you could..." He trailed off meaningfully.

It took Kaminari a moment to understand, but when he did, he grinned. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me! Who would believe me anyway? But I guess this means I should probably find another Dom to help. Don't want to step on anyone's toes or anything."

Midoriya caught Bakugou's eye, and after a moment of silent conversation, Bakugou huffed. "Whatever. It's fine as long as you don't do anything together. Until you find your Pair or a Dom, I guess."

Kaminari launched himself onto Bakugou. "I'll look real hard, I swear! You're such a good friend, Bakubro!"

"Don't call me that, Dunce Face, and get the fuck off!" Bakugou snapped, but not as harshly as normal as he shoved at Kaminari's body, "Now, if you're all fixed or whatever, get the fuck out."

Kaminari took a moment to take stock of his body, and while the tightness in his chest was still there, it was less than before. Now, he just needed to calm down, and he could take walk to accomplish that. "Sure thing."

"Wait, are you sure?" Midoriya stuttered, and Kaminari grinned back.

"Yeah! I'll see you guys in the morning!" He pushed himself to his feet and headed for the door. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do." Scooping up the collar on his way passed, he tossed it back to Midoriya who fumbled to catch it.

Before he closed the door completely, he paused to peak back and watch his strange pair of friends.

"'Come'," Midoriya murmured quietly with a gentle flex in his voice. Bakugou crawled willingly back to him, expression exhausted as he found a comfortable seat between Midoriya's knees again. When he settled his head on Midoriya's thigh, head craddled in his hand and their fingers twined together, Midoriya began murmuring too quietly for Kaminari to hear.

The serene air from before settled back into place as if it had never been disturbed.

Bakugou hummed in response, just a quiet rumble in the room, and Kaminari finally shut the door silently.

Padding down to the common room, he found his way out onto the street. He breathed in the cold night air, clearing out the rest of the excitement and knots in his chest. He wondered if those knots were panic, panic at being commanded by someone he didn't trust, panic at wondering if that person was going to command him to do something he didn't want to do, panic at not having a say in what happened to him during those times. Nothing terrible had happened so far, he'd been lucky. There were horror stories of Doms abusing their Subs, and it terrified Kaminari every time someone commanded him that it might be his turn.

The scrape of shoes close by startled him bad enough that his heart started racing all over again. Spinning around, he found Shinsou staring sleepily at him.

"Sorry," Shinsou said in his deep voice, scrubbing a hand through his purple hair, "Didn't mean to startle you. Didn't expect anyone else to be out this late."

The tug was back, strong and insistent as it always was when Shinsou was near. They stared at each other. "I couldn't sleep."

"Same. I don't sleep well. At all really."

They lapsed into silence, and after a moment, Kaminari mustered up the courage to blurt, "Do you have a Pair? Or a Sub?" Heat crowded his face, and Kaminari wanted to chide himself. After seeing Midoriya and Bakugou though, feeling that immediate jealousy, he thought he might have been more ready than he first realized.

When Shinsou considered him for a moment and said, "No, never really thought about it or had the chance," he knew he was ready.

Kaminari smiled despite the heat in his face. "Do you want one?"

[shy-violet-soul]

Love in a time of COVID-19

Summary: Bucky won’t let anything get in the way of showing you he loves you & making you smile. Characters: Bucky Barnes x you; Steve Rogers; mentions of Clint Barton, Tony Stark, & Natasha Romanoff Ratings/Warnings: Character has Rheumatoid Arthritis, mentions of symptoms & treatments. Social-distanced-fluff of the highest concentration. Clint being weird & Bucky being goofball-y awesome. A/N: I saw the photo that inspired this on IG, and laughed so hard I just about cried. The marvelous OP graciously gave me permission to include it in my fic. You’ll find it at the bottom of the work. I thought we could all use some fluff in our lives these days!

I also have a friend with Rheumatoid Arthritis who is finding this time to be exceptionally difficult. Please support those in your circle who need some extra love right now.

Thank you @pinknerdpanda​ for beta-ing once again! All the social-distanced-hugs to you!

This work is a piece of fiction inspired by characters created by the MCU. Please do not copy/print elsewhere without my written permission

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He was convinced. People’d lost their damn minds.

Bucky had survived warzone trenches in Europe. Had lived through the Great Depression. And had never seen the level of human stupidity he’d witnessed the first few days of March 2020. It’s an airborne illness - why the hell were people buying 96 rolls of toilet paper at a whack? What were they gonna do, wrap it around their mouths and breathe through it?

The Avengers Tower was going through its own issues. Stark vowed to spend his self-isolation inside one of his suits; a good idea in theory until he realized he still had to pee. Steve kept expounding on the virtues of using the time to catch up on reports. Natasha spent her time snorting at the treasure trove of new social media memes while Clint thumbed his nose at the whole thing by licking every door knob he passed. Bucky was washing his hands more just because of that. Gross.

Yes, they were pretty well hooked up to do the shelter in place, social distance, whatever the hell they were calling this thing. Bucky couldn’t fault Tony (well, probably mostly Pepper) for the very streamlined system in place that kept the Tower stocked with all manner of essentials. And, the Stark Foundation was busily getting help where it needed to go while Bruce videoconferenced with Dr. Cho and Shuri on treatments and vaccines. They were good to go for the foreseeable future.

His only real worry was you.

Your rheumatoid arthritis made this whole thing much more dicey, and - if he was being honest - a frick ton scarier. The illness suppressed your immune system, which meant you had to be more proactive on a normal day with handwashing, etc. Throw in a virus with no vaccine and no treatment? ‘Proactive’ took on a whole new definition. Sanitizing surfaces and extra cleanliness efforts were easy to step up. But he knew how much you hated being cooped inside. It didn’t help that the humidity had climbed up into the 70-ish percent region. The heavy air, coupled with the bite of winter chill still hanging on to the calendar, had your already tender joints pitching all kinds of a fit.

Right now, you were curled up in your favorite spot - a well padded window seat overlooking Central Park. Bucky had switched on the fancy fake fireplace for you, had wrapped you in blankets and propped you with pillows. The light pouring in haloed a bright shine to your hair, which normally would have a smile on his face. But your wan face pulled a grimace from him instead. Your shoulders rose and fell with a sigh, and Bucky would have cheerly scrubbed every surface of the whole damn Tower to get you out and about and smiling again.

A knock on the door spun him on his heel, and Bucky stalked to the door. Everyone knew the protocol - no visitors allowed!

“What.” Not a question, but a cold, terse demand. Steve drew a deep breath as he measured the look being leveled at him. He’d faced firing tanks with less caution. His friend’s frown was fierce versus his blank murder stare. Bucky was mad but not in an assassinating mood. 

“Buck, I’m not gonna stay. I just wanted to stop in and say hi.”

“I’ll tell her you said so.” The door swung closed in his face. Steve rolled his eyes, throwing his arms up in disgust.

“C’mon, man.”

“No.” Exasperated, Steve couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his mouth. You and Bucky were a match made in heaven. Eidetic brain with the memory of an elephant, you were hands down one of the best analysts he’d had the privilege of working with. You chased after clues relentlessly, bulldogged in your tenacity. Straight up bullheaded in your obstinacy, though. 

If anyone could out-stubborn you, it was Bucky. Lord knows, he had enough experience chasing after a certain runt who couldn’t stay out of back alley brawls. Steve knew that, in odd moments, it still struck his friend that he didn’t need his help in the same ways. When Bucky’s muscle memory had him moving before his brain caught up if Steve coughed or sneezed. He could practically see the wheels turning as Bucky struggled to stitch together broken memories with current moments. A natural protector, Bucky needed someone to nurture. To cajole and wheedle and, if necessary, out-stubborn. You fit the bill to a tee.

“I don’t have coronavirus, Bucky!”

The door snatched back open. “Oh, yeah? And how do you know that?”

“I can’t get sick. Serum, remember?”

Bucky glared at him through squinted eyes before stepping back into the apartment.

“Carrier,” he hissed, slamming the door again.

“Was that Steve?”  Fatigue even hung heavy in your voice, the faintest gravel in the back of your throat threading a husk into your words. Bucky winced with you when you shifted in your seat, struggling painfully to stand.

“Yeah. Now I’m gonna have to wipe off the door knob again,” he groused as he briskly rubbed sanitizer over his hands. “Clint’s such a dumb ass.”

You snorted softly as you padded towards him. “I know. Who licks door knobs to prove a point?”

Taking in your stiff posture, Bucky leaned in close and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“Why’d you get up? What do you need? I’ll get it,” he murmured into your hair. Your sigh huffed softly against his chest as you gratefully leaned against him, glancing at the clock in the kitchen.

“I should probably take another dose of ibuprofen,” the words mumbled up, uncertain. The illness had dragged up new challenges - too many doses of the NSAID was ripping up your stomach. Steroids helped, too, but you couldn’t take too many rounds too close together, and you’d already taken one prescription a month ago when the wet winter had your shoulders and wrists feeling like they were grinding straight through to your bone marrow. Pepper and your doctor were trying to get a DMARD approved through insurance, but with all this new virus ‘fit hitting the shan’, the insurance company backlog was sky high. That left you with balancing growing joint discomfort against growing stomach unhappiness. Thank God for ice packs and Tony’s ridiculously over-the-top whirlpool baths.

Bucky held in his own sigh as he pondered your situation. “Let me make you some of that chamomile tea and some toast to go with it.”

He didn’t think it possible, but your shoulders sagged even more. “I’m really not hungry, Buck.”

Threading his fingers through your hair, he gently rubbed the back of your head the way you liked.

“I’ll make it with that raspberry rutabaga jam on it. You want that?”

The catch in your throat grew to a fist-sized lump fit to choke you. The throbbing in your shoulders and arms radiated in time with your heartbeat up into your brain. Your knees felt weird - rubbery, tender, like you weren’t sure they’d support you. You missed your job, you missed your friends, you missed outside. As much as you adored Bucky, you were lonely for the other pieces of your life. The misery in your heart swelled to mammoth proportions, and you couldn’t choke back the sob that broke from you.

“I want -”

Bucky’s gut pinched so hard it hurt when you started crying. “What, love? What do you want? Anything, I’ll get it for you.”

Crying just made everything hurt more, and you swallowed hard to shove down the tears, anxiety, and stress. You glanced up, seeing the stress that pulled tight lines into Bucky’s face. You tried to offer him a smile and knew you failed pathetically.

“Rhubarb, hun. It’s raspberry rhubarb jam.”

Bucky saw you trying, knew you were trying to make him feel better, and wanted to cry himself. He’d do anything to bring back your smile.

“Rutabaga, rhubarb, whatever. You go sit, I’ll bring it out to you with the ibuprofen.”

You shook your head as you stepped away from his urging embrace. “No, I need to move around a little.” Neither of you spoke as you moved to the kitchen, content in the quiet puttering as Bucky filled the kettle and popped bread in the toaster. Out of habit, he went to wash his hands when an idea hit him.

Staring blankly out the window, your thoughts drifted to your ‘to be read’ pile as you tried to decide between starting a new book from your oft-ignored stack or comfort yourself with a lovely reread. You were so lost in your musings, you didn’t track on the activity behind you.

“Babe, can you grab the butter and jam? I’m washing my hands.”

You turned around to step to the fridge, stopped in your tracks at the sight before you, and burst out laughing. 

Bucky had taken off his metal arm and put it in the dishwasher.

Hilarity pealed from you in waves, folding you over as you leaned against the counter. You tried to catch your breath and glanced up at Bucky. The proud-as-punch smile on his face set you off again, laughing so hard your shoulders twinged at you.

When a snort broke into your snickers, Bucky couldn’t help but laugh with you. Giddiness swirled with relief at your delight, and he felt prouder in that moment that he did receiving his U.S. Army Expert Marksmanship medal in ‘42. He knew he couldn’t carry your burden for you, but in this moment, he’d lightened it a bit. Moving in close, he gathered you to his chest with his other arm, relishing the feel of your giggles against him. You gasped for breath as you wiped the tears from eyes, then reached up to cup his face in your hands, smiling fondly into his twinkling gaze.

“I love you, you giant goofball. Thank you for taking such good care of me.” 

Bucky leaned down and kissed the tip of your nose.

“Gotta take care of my best girl.” Giving you the gentlest of squeezes, he then urged you back to your cozy nest. “Go sit. I’ll bring it all out in a few.”

Still grinning, you headed for your phone. “First, I gotta get my phone. This is going on Twitter!”