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ultracarepro1 · 4 months

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Understanding Cellulite: Effects, Symptoms & Treatments

A common concern among individuals is a very common skin condition that affects people of all shapes, sizes, and genders. Despite its prevalence, there is often confusion about what cellulite is and how to manage this concern effectively. In today’s blog, we will delve into the definition of cellulite and its symptoms and explore the promising treatment approach for the same, including the use of a massage gun.

What is Cellulite?

Cellulite refers to the dimpled appearance of the skin, which often looks like the peeled skin of an orange or cottage cheese. Yes, you got that right—a skin appearance that resembles a peeled orange. It usually occurs when fat deposits push through the connective tissue beneath the skin, enabling a lumpy appearance. It primarily affects areas including the thighs, buttocks, and abdomen. While it’s not a serious medical condition, cellulite can have some negative repercussions on an individual’s mind and body.

How does Cellulite Affect you?

Self-esteem:

Cellulite can significantly impact one’s self-esteem and body image, leading to feelings of insecurity and low self-confidence. This especially takes place in social settings.

Body Image Issues:

Individuals with cellulite may feel dissatisfied with their physical appearance because cellulite is a skin condition that shows very clearly on the skin. This leads to negative self-perception, which in turn makes people conscious about wearing certain clothes and going to certain places.

Psychological Distress:

Dealing with the visible signs of cellulite can cause psychological distress, including anxiety, depression, and stress. Because we live in a society where beauty standards stand on the topmost pedestal, individuals feel pressure to meet societal beauty standards.

Limitations in Activities:

Some individuals may avoid certain activities, such as swimming or wearing shorts, due to concerns about their cellulite. This leads to a decrease in participation in enjoyable and fulfilling experiences.

Symptoms for Cellulite

Identifying cellulite is relatively easy, as it presents noticeable dimpling and uneven texture on the skin’s surface. It is characterized by several noticeable symptoms that affect the skin’s surface heavily. Let us take a look at them in the following section.

Uneven Skin Texture:

Cellulite often leads to a skin appearance that is uneven or lumpy, with areas of raised and depressed skin. This uneven texture is more noticeable when the skin is pinched or pressed together.

More Fat Deposits:

Cellulite commonly develops in areas with higher concentrations of subcutaneous fat, such as the thighs, hips, buttocks, and abdomen. These fat deposits can contribute to the appearance of cellulite by pushing against the connective tissue beneath the skin.

Pain or Tenderness:

In some cases, cellulite may be associated with mild discomfort, tenderness, or sensitivity in the affected areas. However, the discomfort varies in intensity and may become noticeable in cases of exacerbated pressure or certain movements.

Discoloration:

Severe cellulite may come in compliance with visible discoloration or, at times, the bruising of the skin, particularly in areas with noticeable dimpling.

Decreased Skin Elasticity:

In addition to dimpling and texture irregularities, cellulite can decrease skin elasticity. The affected skin may feel looser or less toned compared to surrounding tissues.

Cellulite Treatments

While cellulite may be a common occurrence, over the years, various treatments have been explored to reduce the appearance of cellulite. Let us explore the possible treatments here.

Tropical Creams:

Creams and lotions containing ingredients like retinol or antioxidants may help temporarily reduce the appearance of cellulite by improving skin firmness and elasticity. However, results can vary, and consistency is crucial.

Laser Therapy:

Laser treatments target the underlying connective tissues by heating them to stimulate collagen production, tighten the skin, and reduce the appearance of cellulite. This approach typically requires multiple sessions and involves some discomfort and downtime.

Subcision:

It is a minimally invasive surgical procedure that involves inserting a small blade beneath the skin to break up the fibrous bands responsible for causing cellulite dimples. Subcision releases tension and allows the skin to smooth out, resulting in a reduction in cellulite appearance.

Healthy Diet:

Maintaining a balanced diet, including fruits, vegetables, and whole grains, can help prevent excessive weight gain, which aids in reducing the appearance of cellulite.

Massage Guns: An Easy Solution to Cellulite?

participants

A study published in the Journal of Clinical and Aesthetic Dermatology found that those who received massage therapy experienced a significant reduction in thigh circumference and cellulite severity.

Massage guns, also known as percussive therapy devices, have gained popularity in recent years as cellulite massagers. Although their potential lies in alleviating muscle soreness and improving blood circulation, that doesn’t prevent them from being a go-to cellulite treatment.

These handheld devices deliver rapid percussions of pressure to the skin and underlying tissues, offering a deep tissue massage at your fingertips.

How Massage Guns Help Combat Cellulite

Improved Blood Circulation: The rapid percussive action of massage guns promotes blood flow to the targeted area, which helps flush out toxins and reduce fluid retention. This contributes to the appearance of cellulite.

Breakdown of Fat Deposits: While massage guns aren’t a miracle cure, regular use can help break down fat deposits and redistribute them more evenly beneath the skin’s surface, reducing the appearance of dimpling.

Enhanced lymphatic drainage: Massage guns can stimulate the lymphatic system, helping to remove toxins and fluids from the body, which contributes to the development of cellulite.

In a Nutshell…

Cellulite is a concern that affects millions of people worldwide. While there is no one-size-fits-all solution, incorporating massage guns into your health routines can effectively reduce cellulite’s appearance and improve overall skin health. By promoting blood circulation, breaking down fat deposits, and enhancing lymphatic drainage, massage guns offer a non-invasive and convenient option for managing cellulite at home.

#cellulite #Treatment #helthylife #massage gun #machine #physiotherapy

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ultrarecoveryuae · 5 months

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Finding relaxation and comfort is more crucial than ever in the fast-paced world of today, where stress and tension seem to be regular companions. Massage guns, in particular, or deep tissue massagers have become well-liked instruments for relieving pain in the muscles, encouraging healing, and improving general health. However, how precisely do these gadgets perform their magic? This examination of the advantages of deep tissue massager delves into the science underlying massage guns, revealing the mechanism that gives them their remarkable ability to relieve stress and stiffness in the muscles. Take a voyage to learn about the inner workings of massage chairs and all the different ways they may help you feel better and relax more. Visit us now to learn more.

#deep tissue massager #best massage gun #massage machine

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diabeteshelpingout · 1 year

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Gun massager machine available online at the best price.

#Caresmith Massage Gun #caresmith massager #gun massager machine

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cristinasequinemassage · 2 years

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Website: https://www.equinemassage.co/

Address: Ottawa, Ontario, Canada

I am a Certified Equine Massage Therapist and Certified Myo-manipulative Functional Therapist providing bodywork for horses using several methods, including; Massage, Myo-Fascial Release, BEMER therapy, some Masterson Method™️ techniques, stretching and Kinesiology Taping. My goal is to help your horse achieve better performance, improve overall health, rehabilitate after an injury or illness and keep horses of all disciplines in top condition!

BENEFITS OF EQUINE MASSAGE THERAPY:

--Pain relief --Improved functionality --Fascia release --Improved circulation --Relaxation --Stress relief --More efficient movement --Improved posture, circulation, coat condition and muscle tone --Immune system support --Injury prevention --Stimulation of the lymphatic system

About Me:

I am a Certified Equine Massage Therapist and have obtained the following qualifications:

Certified Equine Massage Therapist (The School of Equine Massage and Rehabilitation Therapies)

Certified Equine Myo-manipulative Functional Therapist (Holistic Animal Studies)

I am a member in good standing with the International Association of Animal Massage and Bodywork

I completed The Masterson Method® Beyond Horse Massage Seminar/Workshop

Certified: Sport Horse Injury/Lameness Prevention & Care from the University of Guelph

Certified: Horse Care and Welfare from the University of Guelph

I completed the Balance Through Movement™️ Master Class

I hold a Masters degree in (human) Psychology - B.A., M.Ed

I am always continuing my education and am currently working on my Equine Kinesiology Taping certification.

Horses have been in my life since 1984 in a variety of ways throughout the years - I have boarded horses at stables and have cared for them at home. I competed in the hunter and jumper A circuit (Western Canada) at 1.10m. I have trained my own horses - one off the track and one hombred Connemara. In the 1980/90s we had a Connemara breeding program. I have introduced many children to horse care and horseback riding. And now I am an adult amateur rider and equine massage therapist.

Horses give us so much and it is wonderful to give back to them in this way. They benefit greatly from the moments of relaxation and tension relief that they get from massage as displayed by their lowered head and gentle sighs. The increased performance and quicker recovery times after injury are just some of the benefits of equine massage and is a great way to take care of our equine partners.

Business Email: [email protected]

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/cristinasequinemassage

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year

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boo! surprise bitches! i'm doing kinktober this year! finally doing it! bet you didn't see that one coming, did you hehe 🕸

there is a good mix of both short and long stories coming your way throughout this (and i will also still occasionally post other fics this month that aren't related to this). also, a handful of these fics are darker in nature, thought it was fitting for halloween, so remember to read the warnings, if there's something that's not for you then please, as always, be kind to yourself and don't read the story.

masterlist | join my taglist

day one | sore

stepbro!sirius black x cheerleader!reader + dubcon massage

day two | don't smile

steve rogers + throat fucking + size kink

day three | stuffed

devil!eddie munson & angel!steve harrington + tentecles + double penetration in one hole

day four | a little fashion show

best friend!stiles stilinski + lingerie

day five | stay still

peter parker + bondage

day six | hold up, let me record this

jj maybank + tittyfucking + sextape

day seven | the palace guards

guards!poly!marauders x princess!reader + secrets relationship

day eight | it’s practically like we’re down there with them

mob boss!bucky barnes + exhibitionism

day nine | keep that pretty mouth shut

tommy shelby + keep quiet quickie

day ten | I couldn’t find it in me to wake you

poe dameron + somno thigh fucking

day eleven | I just want you a little longer all to myself

matt murdock + secret office sex

day twelve | nothing more than a toy

rafe cameron + using you like a toy to masturbate with

day thirteen | I still got a few rounds left in me

boxer!steve rogers + bathtub sex

day fourteen | open your fucking mouth

dark!wild west cowboy!joel miller + gun kink

day fifteen | tiny

miguel o'hara x fairy!reader + extreme size difference

day sixteen | the wall between us

cult member!steve harrington + fem glory hole + breeding

day seventeen | be a rebel, be bad, stay here and cuddle with me

spencer reid + aftercare

day eighteen | pleasant pile of pillows

brother's best friend!james potter + pillow humping

day nineteen | ring ring

sam winchester x reader x bf!dean winchester + phone sex + cheating

day twenty | window

perv!neighbour!billy russo + voyeurism

day twenty-one | say yes

fiancé!bruce wayne + possessiveness

day twenty-two | i can think of something better than that

bucky barnes + anal

day twenty-three | double check

dark!professor!ben solo + power imbalance + manipulation

day twenty-four | maroon

vampire!remus lupin + biting + blood kink

day twenty-five | i want you

pirate captain!miguel o'hara + sex as payment

day twenty-six | teamwork

pro football team!avengers (bf!steve rogers, bucky barnes, pietro maximoff, clint barton, sam wilson, tony stark, thor odinson) + gangbang

day twenty-seven | my little flower

din djarin + fantasy au + cockwarming

day twenty-eight | hysteria

doctor!aleksander morozova x hysteria patient!reader + historical au + fuck machine

day twenty-nine | can't fight the moonlight

werewolf!bucky barnes x gf!reader + predator/prey + monsterfucking

day thirty | magical mimic

eddie munson x witch!reader + magical mutual masturbation

day thirty-one | you can’t put it in

stepbro!peter parker + halloween pussyjob

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absurdthirst · 2 months

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Kinktober 2024 Prompt List

Please feel free to share and use the list below. Or the header! This is only for anyone 18+ years of age, minors - please do not interact. Please feel free to tag me in any and all Kinktober stories that you post, I’m eager to read them. Have fun and have a wonderful Kinktober!

Handjobs // Temperature Play // Breast Worship

Piercing // Double Penetration // Voyeurism

Sixty-nine // Public Sex // Pet Play

Sensory Deprivation // Leather or Latex // Watersports

Rough Sex // Anal Beads // Bondage

A/B/O Heats or Ruts // Sadism-Masochism // Anonymous Sex

Bruising or Bitemarks // Virgin // Ice Play

Flogging // Swallowing // Cock Warming

Anal // Praise Kink // Food Play

Face Sitting // Lingerie // Overstimulation

Gags // Shaving // Knife Play

Sex Toys // Dirty Talk // Breath Play

Pregnancy // Aftercare // Roleplay

Gangbang // Collaring // Candle - Wax Play

Hair Pulling // Glory Hole // Teasing

Nipple Play // Cock Worship // Lactation

Squirting // Dom - Sub // Period Sex

Cockring or Plugs // Foot Fettish // Massaging

Suspension // Fisting // Mirror Sex

Infidelity - Cuckolding // Cunnilingus // Threesome

Gun Play // Monsterfucking // Shower - Bath Sex

Deepthroating // Thigh Riding or Fucking // Choking

Licking // Degradation // Breeding

Glove Kink // Masturbation // Somnophilia

Pussy Slapping // Non Con - Dub Con // Titty Fucking

Pegging // Edgeplay // Seduction

Lap Dances // Hate Fucking - Angry Sex // Breast Worship

Fucking Machine // Phone Sex // Impact Play

Branding // Hunter - Prey // Uniforms

Weight Gain // Object Insertion // Sex Pollen

Free For All

#kinktober #kinktober 2024 #kinktober list #absurdthurst kinktober #pedro pascal

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zwhoreo · 1 year

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i’m back for now with something I’ve been working on for a little while <3

rain - luffy x f!reader

smut

summary: while waiting out a rainstorm under a gazebo, you and Luffy use sex to pass the time

contains: very vanilla and casual, you ride luffy

words: 1.9k

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The rain started when you were still far away. You had wandered through the forest trying to find those small, white berries that Robin told you about, you’re almost lost although you haven’t really tried to find your way back. The ship is over the hill, through those trees, maybe. But the rain comes in tiny bullets at first, seeming to pierce the leaves, the sky is darkening and a chill runs through you. You have to find the berries. The others are gathering meat, you’re gathering berries. And the rain comes faster now, machine gun fire, when you feel it on your shirt you know you aren’t imagining anymore. The moss grows softer under your feet, the leaves above you cast darker and darker shadows and the dappled sunlight fades to gray. Water makes patterns against the trees, you’re surrounded by gentle sound.

You realize that cover is more important than the berries, you need to wait out this storm, and so you run through the forest, stumbling in a soaked clearing as the rain falls freely on your face.

There’s a gazebo, bathed in the last of the light, sparkling in front of you. The paint is cracked and white, there are vintage designs on the awning, and someone is there already, huddled up on the narrow bench under its roof, hugging his knees. But he lights up when he sees you, running to the railing and grabbing the support pole.

“[NAME]!!” Luffy shouts.

“Luffy?” you call out, joyful. Rain is pouring in harder now and your hair is sticking to your face. It’s speeding up so quickly now. “I thought you were with Sanji!”

“Got lost!” he says, smiling. The rain starts to come in sheets and he blurs in your vision.

You run over to him, taking cover in the gazebo and he immediately comes over and holds you in his arms, pressing into you tightly and resting his head on your shoulder. It’s warm but he’s wet too so it doesn’t help much, not like that.

You look across the sky and you see blue in the distance, far away, but the clouds are rolling in and maybe they’ll be gone soon if you just wait. So you tell that to Luffy, who doesn’t mind waiting as long as it’s with you. You pull away from his grasp just for a moment so you two can sit down on the bench that he’s already dripped all over, but your pants are already soaked, it’s ok.

Luffy seems bursting with energy now that you’re here, but with nowhere to really let it out. He’s nearly on your lap he’s pressed so close, asking about where you’ve been, but running in the rain has made you tired so you just lean in and kiss him instead.

The world goes silent, except for the rain, as you place a hand on the back of his neck and press your lips to his gently, while his eyes are still wide open. You massage his thigh in small circles and whisper to him, “Glad I found you.”

“Mmn…” He murmurs in response, eyes drifting down to your hand. His skin is warm, he’s looking at you hungrily, now.

“We’ve got a little time, what do you wanna do?” You lean in, lips hovering right under his ear, you hear his heavy breathing, his heartbeat.

Luffy leans against you. He presses his body into yours and your lips connect with his skin and his back arches on instinct. You adjust. You place him onto the bench and quickly straddle him, your face still close to his, it seems like he really wants to kiss you again. And he can’t help himself anymore so once more those soft lips are connecting with yours as his hat brim touches your forehead. He holds your cheeks in his hands, your chests are together, his heart is racing against yours. He giggles into your mouth.

“Hehe, c’mere…” he says as you’re pulled tightly against his body in a firm, unyielding embrace. It suddenly becomes a little hard to breathe but that doesn’t really matter because you’re enjoying yourself so much.

And you whisper, “Luffy…” which gets him even more excited. And look at what you’ve done, he’s getting hard against you, pressing up between your legs.

“Eee…” you murmur as you squirm in his lap happily, making him shift against you with every bit of friction you give him. He’s making this little humming noise deep in the back of his throat that blends pleasantly with the rain on the roof overhead.

Your hands trail down the small of his back, slipping beneath his cardigan which sticks to his skin, his back is smooth and firm, skin silky and clean. Usually there’s wind-blown sea salt stuck to him, built-up sand and grime, usually he’s very sweaty, but as his muscles twitch under your touch he’s just honey-soft and wet, skin brown and sun-kissed and glistening with raindrops of gold.

“That feels good…” he says against your ear, face squishing against you.

“What do you wanna do?” you ask again, and he laughs lightly, tugging at your shirt.

He can see your body through the soaked fabric, he licks his lips, he pulls you a little closer and his hips go rhythmic in their tiny twitching and he says softly, “dunno, anything ya want,” with the biggest, dumbest smile.

Nami taught you how to read clouds, calculate the length of storms by the grayness in the sky, by the cracks of heaven. Peaking over Luffy’s shoulder and outside of the gazebo you can see this rolling rainstorm will pass in maybe twenty minutes, which is enough time for a lot of things, but definitely enough time to take care of your boyfriend who sits beneath you and revels in your pressure and weight.

You ask him, straight up, if he wants to have sex right now, because your boy is clueless enough to not know what you mean if you say anything else or try to make a move, he probably doesn’t even notice he’s hard. He says yes in a casual and happy way since he’s feeling especially affectionate today.

You lean back in his arms, shifting enough to reach down and undo his zipper because he looks uncomfortable in there. Drawing him out of his jeans he gazes down at your hands in a lazy, zoned out way, eyes shimmery and unfocused, lips wet with rain, with saliva. He’s so warm in your hands, so delicate and comforting.

You try not to hurt him as you squirm to pull your panties off, now bare beneath your skirt, his hands find your hips and he’s itching to just start fucking you into his lap. Poor Luffy, he’s probably been thinking about you all day. So you hug him, and listen to his heartbeat, whispering quiet permission to be picked up. And so he lifts you, so easily, you cling to him for balance as he clumsily tries to line himself up and his nose is wrinkled in deep concentration.

“Haahh…” he sighs into your ear as you’re lowered, slow and then too fast, aching fullness stretching your body, nerves lighting up down to your toes and your fingers as another heartbeat enters you. Luffy hugs you as he pushes you down onto him, tighter and tighter, huffing into your cheek. He’s about to start pounding his hips up against yours but you forgot how big he is, it’s been a little while, you need to adjust.

“H- hold on,” you gasp, out of breath, the feeling of him inside you threatening to overtake all reason. Luffy’s melting, he’s squishing against you and you can hear his heartbeat get faster and faster and it’s mixing with the crashing rain. “Hold on,” you say again with a steadier voice, trying to even your breathing. It’s going to be ok. He won’t hurt you, even as you feel his cock twitching within your stomach, trapping you to him. You’re so close now.

He’s kicking his feet against the ground and his hat falls off onto the bench as he presses his face against yours. His wet hair sticks to your skin. But he’s still so warm.

You nod slowly, and to confirm he asks, “ya ready?” in an excited, scratchy little voice and when you nod again he begins to squeeze your waist, sandals planted hard on the stone, and he starts to grind his hips in sloppy upwards circling that makes him scrape and rub himself inside you with such a peaceful rhythm.

You move as well, you let your body loosen in his grasp and bury your head in his neck as you ride him, slow and then too fast. Luffy begins to grunt and then to moan from the back of his throat so loud that the rain no longer drowns him out. And the sounds of you both are so wet like a puddle of rainwater, splashing, dripping. He kisses you and that’s wet too, accidentally spitting into your mouth in his joy and pleasure.

With each thrust you press against him closer. You love this so much, even as those fleeting thoughts cross your mind of what if you’re found? In the middle of this clearing framed by rain and white wood and Luffy’s being so loud that anyone could hear you, anyone could see you if they just looked between the trees here. But now isn’t the time for worrying, you feel safe and you don’t care.

When Luffy holds you down onto his lap, buried inside you as deep as he’ll go and not letting your hips so much as twitch, you know he’s about to cum. The possessiveness that overtakes him makes him insistent on releasing inside you as much as he can, there’s something about it that gives him intense, instinctual satisfaction. So you feel him spasm and groan and then fill you with a familiar finality of warmth and love, all to remind you that you’re his. And you don’t move from his lap, he won’t let you. You’re stuck here, glued here, maybe he just likes the contact, or he sort of likes the itching overstimulation, maybe he doesn’t want to watch his cum drip out of you quite yet. He’s stubborn, he won’t let go.

You kiss his forehead. You pick up his hat and place it back on his head, you wipe his hair from his eyes and gaze at him in that beautiful afterglow. Features so soft, angel skin peppered with raindrops, begging to be kissed.

The world just smells like earth and rain and sex now. And blue-yellow sunlight hits you and creates rainbows out of the water on your faces, it makes your eyes sparkle. It’s drizzling now, evaporating into mist. The storm passes, everything is quiet again, so unearthly still. Except the dripping from the gazebo, trickling from the roof and from your thighs. And Luffy’s breath in your ear. And that second heartbeat within you.

“Awh.” Luffy loves the sunshine but he’s sad because he doesn’t want to leave. This means he has to pull out of you, and go back to find Sanji, and to break apart from you even for a moment sounds like pure exhaustion for him.

“We can stay for a little longer,” you promise with a sleepy smile. Basking in his spreading smile, his arms, the smell of the sun and the dying rain.

#luffy x reader smut #luffy x reader #one piece #luffy #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #luffy x f!reader #luffy smut #one piece x reader smut #luffy x y/n #luffy x you

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musamora · 1 year

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𝖓𝖎𝖈𝖐𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖘 「𝔪𝔲𝔩𝔱𝔦」 ༉‧₊˚

characters. bungou stray dogs. osamu dazai, chuuya nakahara, fyodor dostoevsky, nikolai gogol, sigma.

content. f!reader. mentions of violence, mentions of suicide attempts (dazai), alcohol (chuuya), harassment (chuuya), cussing, general sappiness. not proofread.

author's note. this started as a writing exercise to get my writing inspo flowing again, and then i began working on it on and off for a week. so enjoy! this is also an attempt to nail some of their character's down, so hopefully it isn't too OOC.

would you like to see more? join the taglist or comment under this post!

synopsis. what nicknames do the bungo stray dogs boys call their girlfriend?

𝗢𝗦𝗔𝗠𝗨 𝗗𝗔𝗭𝗔𝗜 ⋆⁺₊ ⸺⸺⸺

𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗥 ⋆ 𝗕𝗘𝗟𝗟𝗔𝗗𝗢𝗡𝗡𝗔 ⋆ (𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗘)-𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗡

The darkened alleyway had become thick with the stench of gunpowder and smoke, streetlights barely illuminating your path in the hush of night. You patrolled the area with quick, swift feet, hovering your gun near your hip in case of an ambush. Each step made your heart pound, sweat mixing with humidity to drench your skin as you inched toward the corner.

However, to both your dismay and prediction, Dazai wasn't taking this mission seriously—though he rarely did. It both aggravated and appeased you, knowing that if the situation became dangerous, he'd straighten up in a heartbeat. That didn't mean that his blissed smile and the skip in his step as he went on about the euphoria of death and the many methods he could die from didn't unnerve you.

Knowing him, he wouldn't mind getting shot.

"You know, my dear," he smirked, leaning close to your shoulder to whisper into your ear. "You're very sexy when you're serious." "Dazai," you chided, face stilled into an unamused expression. He fell back dramatically, flailing his hands into the air in surrender. "Oh, belladonna! That stern stare — I hope that beautiful expression is the last sight I see in this cruel world!" he cried, but much to his disdain, you had already rounded the corner, completely done with his antics. "(Name)-channnn!~ Don't leave me hereeee!"

𝗦𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗧𝗜𝗘 ⋆ 𝗛𝗢𝗡𝗘𝗬 ⋆ 𝗪𝗜𝗙𝗘𝗬

It had been a strenuous day at the office for everyone, including you—a plethora of insane missions always followed by mountains of paperwork that never seemed to end. It was almost too much to bear. You huffed, leaning against your hand as you desperately tried to not fall asleep due to your exhaustion.

A pair of large, warm hands rested on your shoulders, massaging just the right spots in your taut muscles. You sighed, allowing yourself to lean back in your chair and enjoy the temporary reprieve. However, the owner of those hands had different plans, hot breath blowing against your ear as he bent down to rest his chin on your shoulder. Dazai chuckled to himself, enjoying your immediate reaction to straighten up, eyes pointed to the screen in an effort to avoid reacting.

You were just too cute.

He cooed out a plethora of sweet nothings in a low, hushed timbre as he tempted a flustered expression out of your face. And one thing that everyone should know about Osamu Dazai—he always gets what he wants when he puts his mind to it.

"Heyyy, sweetie. How's the paperwork going?" You continued to type. "Why won't you pay attention to me!" he wailed, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as he slumped against you. "Come onnn, honey. Don't you love me anymore?" You typed harder. He sniffled. "My little wifey doesn't love me anymore." You paused. "Whaat? Too forward?"

𝗕𝗘𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗜𝗙𝗨𝗟

Only strays wandered the streets at this time of night, but Dazai found himself itching to join them with each passing second. Sleep never easily came to the former demon prodigy. He found that each time he closed his eyes, he was only met with flashes of the past and disillusions of the future. His sharp mind would continue to turn like a machine, processing every granule of information as if he were inspecting an hourglass—a process that had become routine for him.

"Osamu..."

However, your intrusion into his nightfall rituals had soothed his instinctual aches. His eyes glazed over your drowsy figure, admiring the displacement of your hair and the heaviness of your eyes with an emotion he could only describe as awe.

Because in these moments, you didn't even have to be awake and looking at him to make him feel invigorated—feel alive. And with you, he didn't hate being alive anymore, didn't hate acknowledging his human flaws and issues. He just embraced it, even for only a second.

The rational part of his brain dissipated when he felt your warm, bare skin brush against his bandages, snuggling up to him. He knew his brain became useless in your presence, overcome with pure adulation for your mind, your body, and your very soul. So instead, he pulled you close, nuzzling his face in your neck and listening to the rhythmic pulse of your heart as it worked to soothe him to sleep.

"Good night, beautiful."

𝗖𝗛𝗨𝗨𝗬𝗔 𝗡𝗔𝗞𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗔 ⋆⁺₊ ⸺⸺⸺

𝗕𝗔𝗕𝗘

The murmurs of the restaurant had been dampened by a luxurious and vast velvet curtain, enclosing the entire booth to separate you from the other patrons. Lights sparkled from a dazzling chandelier, creating ribbons of gold and white on the tablecloth. This was a special occasion since you rarely had dates outside of your apartment. Chuuya always wanted to take you out more often, to show you off and treat you to the finest, but there never was time. So even when you insisted you could stay inside for a date this evening, he had already planned on spoiling you rotten.

He watched your expression between folded hands, hiding his smirk as the waiter set down an extremely expensive bottle of red wine. You had insisted on getting the more recent and cheaper version, not wanting to splurge too much—which, of course, insulted him. How could he not provide the best for his partner whenever he got the chance?

"Stop gaping, babe," he tutted at your widened eyes, tone lighter than the biting edge it usually held. "Whaddya say we snap over the 1959 Chateau Latour, hm?"

𝗗𝗢𝗟𝗟 ⋆ 𝗕𝗔𝗕𝗬

You had been working the late shift at your office building, slaving the day away only to come out on the other side with an aching back and a small paycheck. Despite Chuuya's suggestion that you could quit your job and let him take care of you, you wanted to maintain your independence and some additional money, which he understood. So here you were, trudging home from the train station with heavy feet and tired eyes. Seeing the apartment complex in the distance made your heart soar, a pep in your step as you started to practically glide down the sidewalk.

"Heyyyy, baby. Lookin' good tonight. That outfit for me, huh?"

Grimacing, you ignored the disgusting cat-calls from the random stranger in favor of increasing your speed to reach the building. You could practically smell the woody cologne coming from Chuuya's jacket, but your blissful thoughts were interrupted by a set of hefty footsteps behind you. This would've been normal during the day, but no one else is out this late at night—except one person.

With tremoring fingers, you lifted your cell phone ever-so-slightly, finding that strange man walking at a brisk pace behind you in the reflection. It set off too many alarm bells in your head, and your walking turned into sprinting.

It just so happened that Chuuya was leaning on one of the pillars outside of your apartment complex. He never liked when you worked the late-shift, and he definitely didn't like when you walked home by yourself—however, you had insisted that you would be fine. He relented, enjoying the independent aspect of your personality, but he still had his precautions.

He straightened up with a passive expression when he saw your shadowed silhouette in the distance, but his eyes narrowed, and his shoulders tensed once he spotted the man who was running after you. Using his gravity manipulation, he pulled you closer to him and had the pervert sink into the ground, sizing him up with burning eyes.

His gloved hand went to your back, easing your trembling body. "Go inside, baby. You don't need'ta be involved in this shit." He watched carefully as you rushed inside the lobby, before slamming the man onto the hard concrete, a foot digging into his spine. "Listen, shithead. You ever look at my doll again, I fucking swear to God—" He never let you walk home alone after this, not like you were complaining much. And that man would never bother you again, if he was even still capable of walking.

𝗣𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗖𝗘𝗦𝗦

It had been an absolutely draining day for Chuuya. With his position as an executive, you would assume that he wouldn't have to deal with the low-life freeloaders that the Port Mafia was bound to have, but it was exactly the opposite. He had been stuck for hours finishing a bunch of incident reports due to the destruction of properties on the southwestern side of Yokohama—incidents he was somehow not involved in.

He groaned as he entered the apartment, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it with his hat before a hearty aroma hit him. He followed his nose to the stove, finding an intricately wrapped dish with a note taped on top.

Make sure you eat before you go to bed. You need to grow big and strong. Love you! ♥

If it were from anyone else, he would've ripped the note apart when he hit the jab at his height—and he definitely scowled a bit—but there was a hint of endearance in his expression. He lifted the tin foil covering the food, feasting on the sight of penne alla vodka.

A raspy sound took him out of his ogling, his eyes scanning the darkened living room to find the one person he had been dying to see—you. And what a sight you were, drool trailed down your chin, a half-empty dish of pasta lying limply in your arms, and hair tousled as your neck bent at an awkward angle to rest against the cushions.

He couldn't help a small laugh at the sight, placing your plate on the coffee table and wiping the baby hairs out of your face, leaving a fleeting kiss on your forehead. In moments like this, with the disarray and train wreck his life had been, he found himself grateful for such simple, domestic sights. It enveloped him in a sense of peace, feeling at home for the first time.

"Hey, princess," he whispered with another peck to your temple. "I'm home."

𝗙𝗬𝗢𝗗𝗢𝗥 𝗗𝗢𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗘𝗩𝗦𝗞𝗬 ⋆⁺₊ ⸺⸺⸺

The pet names featured below are in Russian.

𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗥

Fyodor rarely, if ever, used nicknames of any kind in public. With his specific occupation, it would be detrimental to reveal any kind of attachment to anyone, regardless of whether you were capable of defending yourself. However, rarely does not mean never.

It was an unusual occasion; a completely public date at a local café—you knew that he loved his tea and suggested it in the off-chance that it would possibly sway him to join you. You assumed that he'd say no, but he always found himself having a hard time denying you when you proposed it so sweetly.

However, you knew that you needed to be efficient with your time. You enjoy each other's company in a secluded corner of the café while also multitasking on your own work. The room emitted a wonderful ambiance that made you feel productive and inspired, though it was simultaneously cozy enough to relax in—for you, that was. Most of Fyodor's work required him to be in seclusion, so instead he enjoyed the view—both of the skies outside and a couple of stray glimpses at you.

"Drink for (Name)," a barista called.

Fyodor looked toward you expectantly, but you were far too in your own little world to notice. He would've normally broken your workflow, but he found himself oddly compelled to let you continue—he was awfully fond of the way your brows narrowed as you concentrated. So instead, he retrieved your drink, settling it on the table with a small clink.

"Here you are, dear."

𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗔𝗬𝗔 (милая) ⋆ 𝗥𝗔𝗗𝗡𝗔𝗬𝗔 (радная) ⋆ 𝗟𝗨𝗕𝗜𝗠𝗔𝗬𝗔 (любимая)

It was in the privacy of your shared home that his native tongue came out, engrossing you with his rich Russian accent—he knew the effect it had on you, so sometimes he toyed around with you by slipping it into everyday interactions.

You walked into his computer room, careful to not trip on wires as you carried in a steaming thermal mug of fresh black tea. He was often far too engrossed in his work to eat or drink, so you found the least you could do was to make him some tea whenever you weren't busy.

You placed it next to him, leaning over to take a curious glance at the screen—not understanding a word of it—and you were about to silently exit when he placed a cold hand on top of yours. Your brow raised, watching the smile that appeared on his lips.

"Thank you, милая." You sputtered over your words at the praise, watching in anticipation as he took a sip. He hummed at the nectarous flavor, slouching as the tea worked to soothe his throat. The tea circled in the mug as he swirled it, watching carefully as he could feel your composure melt away. "Delicious as always, радная." You mumbled a quick thank you, turning like a gazelle on your heel to escape his predatory gaze, but his hand pulled you back. Completely captive in his hold, you looked back, a knowing smirk on his face. "Stay for a moment, любимая. I'd like to hear your thoughts on something."

𝗠𝗬𝗦𝗛𝗞𝗔 (мышка)

You honestly had no clue how you had gotten into this position.

One moment, you were cleaning around various rooms, making sure everything was dusted and organized. The next, you were sitting in Fyodor's lap—though you couldn't say you minded. An occasional hum vibrated against the top of your head as Fyodor concentrated on a book in one hand, the other fastened securely around your waist, rubbing circles into the clothed skin.

It took every ounce of self-control you had to limit your face to a neutral glance, staring at the words in his Russian novel as if you were trying to decipher them—you were; you didn't know a lick of the language. You leaned against his shoulder, listening to the faint thump of his heartbeat as it lured you into relaxation. His eyes began to drift from the page, finding your internal struggle incredibly amusing. He titled his face, holding back a smirk when you made a startled noise from a kiss to the temple.

Cute.

In these moments, he felt human again. Everywhere else in the world, he was either treated as a god or a demon—and that was the way he had orchestrated it. But here, in the home you both created, he felt that he had finally received his sanctuary. A place where he sat, welcomed and unjudged for his sins.

"You're quite warm, мышка," he teased. "Perhaps you are developing fever. Hm?"

𝗡𝗜𝗞𝗢𝗟𝗔𝗜 𝗚𝗢𝗚𝗢𝗟 ⋆⁺₊ ⸺⸺⸺

The pet names featured below are in Ukrainian.

𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗞𝗔 (ластівка)

The fluorescent lights above burned your eyes as you scoured the aisles of the store aimlessly. You were on your weekly grocery run but had decided to make something different for dinner this week. There was only one problem—you didn't know where the ingredients were. You normally would've just asked one of the staff members, but you had unfortunately come into the store at a very late hour. Every time you looked at an employee, their eyes were glazed over as if wishing for the sweet release of death. So you decided to search on your own.

You scanned the shelves for a particular dressing, not finding it in its usual spot. It was only with a quick glance to the top shelf that you found it, teetering on the edge as if tempting you. Gritting your teeth, you outstretched your arm as you braced your other one on a lower shelf, only to shriek at the feeling of two hands supporting your hips. You whipped around to find the pervert who had touched you but found nothing. And then you looked down.

Damn him.

Two familiar gloves emerged from golden portals, and a mischievous chuckle accompanied their exit from down the aisle. You looked the white-haired jester up and down, crossing your arms with a pout.

"Did you have to startle me like that?" "Ohhh, sorry, ластівка," he cooed. "I only want to say hello!~"

𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘𝗡𝗞𝗔 𝗠𝗢𝗬𝗔 (маленька моя) ⋆ 𝗠𝗢𝗬𝗔 𝗞𝗢𝗞𝗛𝗔𝗡𝗔 (моя кохана)

How did you manage to get into this mess?

Oh yeah, Nikolai suggested it.

The classic jester, in his hobby of wreaking havoc everywhere he goes, suggested a fun date-night idea—to light bin fires around the alleys of Yokohama until the police caught on. At first, you had been chasing after him in an attempt to stop him, but it had all been in vain. He would let you grab him, only to chuckle as he teleported away with his cape. So instead, you opted to stick by his side and make sure he didn't cause too much harm.

You stood a couple of feet away from the blazing fire, your body resting in the tranquil glow of the chaotic light. Despite the oddities that came with the situation—and every situation that involved Nikolai—there was something so welcoming about the discord. Perhaps you had finally become used to Nikolai's antics. The aforementioned jester had been gaping at you for some time, an unreadable expression on his face as he watched your features through the fire.

"You look breathtaking in the glow of a flame, маленька моя."You stilled at his serious tone, fumbling over a response, but a crescendoing wail of sirens broke the silence. Nikolai smirked, grabbing your arm with one hand as the other went into his overcoat. "Oops!~ Looks like the police caught on. Come on, моя кохана! This way!"

𝗗𝗨𝗦𝗛𝗔 𝗠𝗢𝗬𝗔 (душа моя)

A refreshing breeze rushed past your face as you settled, watching the sun make its descent below the horizon of the city's harbor. Your legs dangled dangerously over the edge of a steep cliffside, yet you found no fear remaining in your heart. Perhaps you have become accustomed to a life of chaos; find beauty in the entropy and contradictions of life.

Nikolai couldn't help but stare at your face as it was outlined by the shadows of the dying sunbeams, awe-struck by your beauty. You were ethereal to him, everything he ever wanted to be and wished to have—so grounded and yet freer than ever. He knew that the relationship between you two, something neither of you had dared to label, should've made him feel constricted. It tied him down to the ground, and he should've been fighting for the skies.

But he didn't.

He felt free. And he knew that it was most likely his heart tricking him, stringing him to a relationship that would disappear with the wind—that he had truly become the fool everyone thought of him as. But he didn't care. Not anymore. Not with you by his side.

He snapped out of his philosophical contemplation as a soft hand cupped his cheek, thumbing at the performative mask that he wore. And he folded it like a deck of cards, removing it before placing a chaste kiss on your palm.

"Somehow, I feel freer than ever before. And it's all thanks to you, душа моя."

𝗦𝗜𝗚𝗠𝗔 ⋆⁺₊ ⸺⸺⸺

𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗥 ⋆ 𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗧

It was a known fact that the Casino's manager had a rigid schedule, packed with meetings and event dates that he had to prepare for. Everything had to run perfectly inside his casino, and he would be damned if it didn't. However, Sigma always made it a mission to purposefully bump into you throughout the day. He had memorized your schedule easily, finding that there was only so much you could do in a finite building in the sky.

He would often find you either in the library or viewing deck, either in your own world reading a book or watching the real world from the skies. Even he had to admit that he could never get tired of the sight of the Earth from down below, contemplating the lives of those who lived on the ground.

"Good morning, dear," he greeted you at the entrance of the viewing deck, noticing a stack of books in your arms. "I see your trip to the library went well." "It was. I'm going to thumb through the newest shipment of fiction novels this afternoon," you replied, your hand already tapping on one of the hardcovers in anticipation. Sigma always made sure to buy the best books for the casino, and you knew he was often swayed by your own favorites. "I'm glad you're so interested in them." He knowingly smiled before a memory came to mind. "Could you hold off your reading for one moment, dearest? I've received a new layout for our casino's fliers and was hoping you'd take a look."

𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 ⋆ 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗟𝗬 ⋆ 𝗦𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗧

The anxious casino manager often forgot to eat because of his destructive work habits, often going hours without consuming anything in order to constantly maintain peace in his casino. It was a terrible habit that caused more stress for both of you, so you decided to enact a plan. Whenever you noticed his workload was becoming too much or he seemed too frazzled, you'd step in to make sure he was getting everything he needed.

A small (underlying word: large) part of him secretly reveled in this, both having the opportunity to be doted on—and be simultaneously scolded—while also relishing in a couple stress-free moments with you. And he also gets to enjoy your cooking, which he personally found better than the casino chefs'—but that's because he was biased.

On his worst days, you'd prance into his office after the casino lunch rush, carrying in tow a small bento packed with his favorite comfort foods and a cookie for dessert. He would look up from whatever paperwork he was slaving away on, a small smile on his tired face.

"Thank you, my love." "You really need to eat more, Sigma," you lectured, placing the bento on his desk to take his face into your hands, analyzing his eye-bags with a concerned expression. "You're gonna get sick." "I'm fine, lovely," he replied, cupping your hands with his own. "You don't need to worry about me." You struck him with a pointed glare, crossing your arms and tapping your foot as he began to work on paperwork again. The clock ticked by a couple of seconds, your maternal scowl deepening with each moment that passed where he didn't reach for the food. "Sweetheart," he sighed before relenting and reaching for the bento. "Fine. For you, I'll eat some. But only until C4276 finishes his blackjack game."

𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗠𝗬 𝗟𝗜𝗙𝗘

The casino had been blasting with the sounds of the band in full swing long into the night, people dancing and chatting amongst themselves as the casino reached the peak of its ability. This new gala had been an exhilarating success, drawing in new patrons as cash flowed out from dealers' hands. It had been perfect, but it was obviously a lot on Sigma.

That was the reason you insisted on co-hosting it with him. He watched in amazement as you worked the crowd tonight, acting in concert to keep the patrons happy and to maintain order. You had been his perfect match, which showed just how much you watched over the casino.

He found you later that night standing on your private balcony, pausing at the entry to fully take in how beautiful you looked in your formal ensemble. The stars seemed to drift to your body like a satellite, casting you in a distant heavenly glow. But everything was silent as if you two were the only ones left to watch over the world as the clouds wandered by.

The anxiety and fear he always felt had been pushed to the side, melting away with the utter sense of belonging that you had engrained into him. You had shown him that he wasn't a mediocre man but a capable and strong individual capable of loving and being loved. You turned as the balcony door shifted open, welcoming him into both your arms and heart.

And he fell for you even more.

"Ohh, love of my life," he mumbled, nuzzled into your shoulder. "What would I be without you?"

милая = dear/darling радная = dear любимая = beloved мышка = mouse ластівка = swallow (bird) маленька моя = my little one моя кохана = my love душа моя = my soul

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @imhandicapableofmath @seisitive @solandiss @ruru-kiss @sillyspookycat @kotysluny

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the-californicationist · 6 months

Note

fluffy smutty dom soap just spoiling the everliving shit out of the female mc, like they've been lovey dovey so much but theyre finally getting down to businesssssssss (to defeat... THE HUNSSSSS)

idk if this is what you were looking for.... but!! ��

TW: rough sex, collar, D/s, face fucking, boot-riding, female reader, unsafe motorcycle events, enthusiastic consent and prior boundaries

Backpacking

Soap’s hands grabbed yours and pulled them around his waist, showing you just how tight to hold on. You could feel the heat of his skin through his clothes, and you let your fingers tease the hem of his thin tee shirt, tracing little lines across his belly.

You’d spent the whole day on the back of his motorcycle, speeding from one town to the next, packing his side bags full of trinkets and jewelry — anything you wanted, he handed over his card. A brand new baby pink helmet? Check. The safety jacket to match? Check. A white leather collar with the cutest little bell? Check. He was doing anything and everything he could to treat you like a princess, and as much fun as you were having, you could recognize a pre-apology from a mile away.

He wanted to butter you up, to lull you into a false sense of relaxed euphoria, and then he’d pounce. You knew his patterns well. He’d compliment you, calling you the bonniest wee backpack he ever did see, telling you that you were his fit lassie, prettier than any other, and that you felt so good wrapped around him when he rode.

Soap lifted up your legs and scooted you forward, jamming you up against him. Then, the bike roared to life, ready to take you home. You could feel the machine rumble beneath you, vibrating right to your very core.

You dared move your hands lower, cupping his heavy cock in your hands, feeling him twitch, threatening to get hard behind the zipper of his jeans.

“Lass,” he warned, flipping up the visor to his helmet while he waited at the red light.

The light turned green and he flipped it back down, turning his attention back to the road.

You moved your hands again, squeezing him and massaging him until he was throbbing. You knew you were in for a world of hurt when you got home, but that was miles away. When he sped up, you squeezed harder, finding his swollen head and torturing it with your fingertips, spidering your nails across the stretched denim, knowing he would feel the ghost of your touch against his skin.

He was certainly bothered. You could tell he was gunning for home, taking all of the shortcuts, shifting in his seat. Then, a stop sign. It was the entrance to your village, and your house wasn’t far off.

As he rolled to a stop, he didn’t say a word, but his masked face looked over his shoulder at you, and you could feel his eyes, fiery and vengeful. It made your legs tremble, knowing how he would punish you.

The twists and turns to your home were achingly slow compared to your ride on the highway, and the anticipation mounted in your belly. He pushed the button for the garage and rode inside with you still on the back, which was not your normal procedure. Soap usually helped you down from the seat, sending you inside so he could get his gear off. But, you were trapped up there until he dismounted.

He parked the bike and killed the engine. Then, he closed the garage, leaving you in the dim light, watching him swing his leg over the low handlebars and stand up. You moved to follow him, but he stopped you, shoving you back down with a wide hand on your hip.

“Nuh uh, I dinnae think so, bonnie. You’ve been a naughty wee backpack today, you ken?”

You pulled off your helmet, fixing your braid, peppering your words with just a little more attitude than they needed,

“I just wanted —”

His hand darted to your neck with a violent snap, something you hadn’t experienced, and he startled you. It also made your body extremely pliant, and you felt your hole pulse for him, turned on by his sudden aggression. Soap’s helm was still on, and it muffled his voice, but you could still hear him,

Your helmet fell out of your hands, and he caught it, setting it down with his free hand on the workbench. His other hand tightened around your neck,

“Take off your clothes, bonnie girl. Every bit.”

He released you from his grasp, but you were still trapped, forced to strip on the bike, unable to dismount as he was standing in your way. Soap was just watching you, occasionally palming his hard cock through his pants just as you had on the bike, hungry and fully in control.

“Johnny, I promise…”

He grabbed your throat again, staring at your state of undress, just panties and socks remaining, and he barked his commands at you,

“Kiss me.”

“What? With your helmet on?”

His hand constricted your throat even tighter as a warning, and he whispered in a deep growl,

“Like you mean it, bonnie.”

Unable to escape, you began to kiss his helmet. It was plasticky and dusty from the road, but you tried to comply, licking and sucking at the mask, leaving little trails of drool across the dark visor.

“That’s it, baby girl. Show me how sorry you are. Your man treated you like a princess, hm? And you were a wee brat, rubbin’ my cock all the way home. Teasin’ me. Such a bad girl.”

“I’m sorry, Johnny,” you gave him your best doe-eyed impression, but it was no use.

“You will be,” he growled.

All in a flash, he shoved you over the seat of the bike, the engine still warm beneath the leather, soft and supple as you lay on your belly. From this angle, your ass was up in the air, your feet barely touching the garage floor, and your head was hanging off of the side, blocking your view.

Then, a hard slap rang out through the garage. You heard it before you felt it, but the sting sent you reeling. You cried out with a shriek and he hit you again. It was the other cheek this time, but it hurt just as bad.

“Johnny, please!”

You heard him rip off his helmet. It clattered to the floor and he reached over the bike, pulling you up by the nape of your neck, forcing you to arch your back,

“Mercy? Where was my fuckin’ mercy while you were havin’ your fun on the M80?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I’m — nghh!” You whispered a slew of apologies, but you were silenced as you felt his cockhead being shoved roughly against your folds, pulsing through your tight muscles, popping into place with a hot, unbearable pressure.

Soap began to thrust himself into you, both hands tangled in your hair at the base of your skull, the full weight of his body rocking into you, threatening to knock over the bike. But, it was in its wheel locks, and it wasn’t going anywhere. You had received no kindness. No soft licks with his smooth, generous tongue, no delicate swipes from his finger. Johnny was making you take his cock raw… and you loved it.

“Mmf-fuck!” He groaned, bending himself over you like a rabid dog, sinking his teeth into your shoulder with a sharp bite, holding you up with his enormous arms, your breasts swaying with every unforgiving thrust.

“Is tha’ what you needed, hm? My bonnie backpack just needed to be stuffed full of her man’s fat prick, is tha’ it?”

“Yes-s-s-s, sir!”

“Takin’ me so well, princess. You ken I love it when you’re a good girl. Such a good fuckin’ girl.”

Every word that oozed from his mouth was punctuated by another overwhelming invasion of his hard rod, and even though you were intimately familiar with his size and shape, you couldn’t remember ever feeling him go this deep. He was relentless, and his pace was taking your breath away.

Suddenly, you were lifted from the bike, and his hand forced its way into your collar, controlling your every movement. You were pushed to your knees, and you landed in a splayed, awkward way, with Johnny bent over you, snarling into your face,

“Find my boot with that wet little slit, princess. Find it. Tha’s it. Spread those legs. Show me you can be my good girl.”

You were cock-drunk and lost now that you were empty, but you did as you were told. You held onto his huge thigh and humped your hips down, trying to reach for the toe of his riding boot. When you found it, you noticed how he had it angled up for you, ready for you to grind yourself into it like the wanton little thing you were.

When you felt the smoothness of the leather toe, you became all too happy to oblige, thrusting forward and back, rubbing yourself to an almost-orgasm on his boot. Just as you were about to tumble over the edge, you heard him chuckle, and you felt your neck being yanked by the collar, pulled face-to-face with his dripping cockhead.

“Open up, bonnie.”

He didn’t wait for long. Johnny pressed his cock into your mouth, making you taste yourself, giving you a few shallow thrusts to get used to his thick girth. He still had his fingers laced through your new collar, and as he began to shove his length past your shining lips, the bell made a darling little tinkling sound.

“Mmm,” he smiled down at you, petting the hair out of your face with his other hand, “There she is. There’s my good girl. My backpack loves to be stuffed. Loves to swallow my load, huh? Tell me how much you love it.”

“Mmph mmn mgh!” You tried to speak, but his dick was filling your cheeks, making it impossible.

Another sharp yank on your collar got your attention, and your eyes darted to his, wide and full of wonder. He smiled, commanding you,

“Louder, bonnie. Cannae hear you clearly.”

“Mmph mmn mgh! Mmn mgh!” You were basically screaming against his flesh, struggling to push your voice out just like he wanted you to. You wanted to be so good.

You continued to rub yourself on his boot, and you were getting close. You gripped his thigh tighter, fucking yourself with the smooth leather, chasing your high.

But, it was Soap who got you there. He grabbed you by the face and pushed himself down into your throat to his hilt, burying your nose in his curls, running his thumb over your tear-stained cheeks and coaching you through it,

“Come for me, bonnie. Come right now. Tha’s it. Scream. Scream on my cock, you pretty little slut. Mngh! Tha’s it!”

Your body didn’t give you a choice. It was on his side, and it followed his orders. You felt yourself coming, shaking in your legs, gushing all over his shoe, staining the concrete floor of the garage, screaming like you were dying.

He pulled himself out of you all in one, gentle go. Then, he started jerking himself off, keeping hold of your collar, fisting his cock onto your cheek.

“Close your eyes, princess, and open up that filthy fuckin’ mouth.”

You obeyed, pliant as ever, and as you did, you felt his come coat your face, rope after rope, warm and creamy, getting all over your cheeks and mouth. You opened your eyes to look at him, and he was worn out, wrung like a rag, panting and dizzy. He used the tip of his dick to paint your lips one more time, and you cleaned him up, laving him with your tongue from base to tip, letting his seed drip off of your nose and jaw, not caring how messy you were.

While he was watching you, you swiped a dollop of his come up with your finger and began eating it from your hands, showing him your tongue, trying to please him with your loyal obedience.

“Oh, fuck. Such a pretty girl. So perfect. Best fuckin’ backpack in the whole world, bonnie.”

AO3 Link

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod #call of duty #captain soap mactavish #soap mactavish #soap #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader

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subbiehoney · 2 months

Text

Bio

I go by Honey

I'm 34

Pansexual

Nonbinary (ftm) he/they

I AM NOT A GIRL,

Please don't call me a girl or sissy

I don't want to argue this and blocking will happen if you come at me with transphobia.

I'm a sub and into a lot of fun things :)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Transphobes, homophobes, racists, and ableists, do not interact!

This is an 18+ blog exclusively!

Kinks:

doms, (especially pleasure doms),

breath play,

pinning,

bondage,

biting,

aftercare,

forced orgasm,

forced toys,

hair pulling,

overstimulation!!!!

bound to fucking machines or vibrators,

slave training,

orgasm punishment, needing permission to cum,

getting shared with a group (gangbangs),

tentacles

hot wax,

crotch rope,

spit roast,

forced to ride a dildo,

crops and whips,

In Public secret vibrator

Cockwarming dildos

Soft limit: I have found I don't really like much degradation without praise. It's not a hard limit but I'm probably not getting anything out of it.

Limits: age play, piss, scat, vomit , Incest including feuxcest, tickling, bestiality, detrans and transphobia, anything physically dirty like toilet seats, fat phobia or any weight sort of insults, anything that will make me risk my marriage

Toys available:

Clothespins (plastic and wooden)

Binder clips

Nipple clamps with weights and chain

Clover clamps with chain

Spring loaded clamps

5 of the 5 Oz weights to add to the chain of clamps

5 in double knotted dildo (suction cup)

6 inch knotted and textured dildo

9 inch suction

5 inch attachment for massage gun

Hitachi wand

Mini wand (otw)

Suction vibe (otw)

Bullet (need to find the charger though)

G spot vibe with clit suction (broken, a new one otw)

App controlled egg vibrator

App controlled thrusting small dildo

Anal hook with handle

Anal dilating toy (can't fit it yet)

Large glass dildo for anal

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judasgot-it · 9 months

Note

Hiii! I suddenly had an idea like a vision or something tehee

imagine after a party (idk, hunting dogs celebrating another victory) and s/o’s feet hurt for her heels so tecchou noticing, carries her on his back. sorry if it was simple

btw Can i call you Judy and be 🪻anon?

You've gifted me a nickname and all I did was ignore you. I think the best thing that should be done is that I write your ask and that you beat me (jk please don't I'm just a writer. but ily flower anon that nickname is so sweet u have full use to call me it <3)

Scenario: Husband! Tecchou carries fem! reader around while at a party (TW for reader being a little drunk at some parts lol)

1 k words

Kiss Me - Sixpence None The Wiser

1:15 AM

The work party was still raging on.

Fukuchi and Teruko were screaming a duet into the karaoke machine, some sort of anime intro that Tachihara complained only old people would know.

Jouno was surprisingly still in the room, forcing some poor chef to make another batch of some overly complicated dish that apparently only Jouno could appreciate. There was a gun on the table, although surprisingly it wasn't pointed at anyone yet.

You could breathe a sigh of relief at that.

All you were looking for now was Tecchou. He had gone missing around half an hour ago, doing who knew what. He was the one thing keeping you alive at this party, considering how you were one or two drinks away from either passing out on the floor or just trying to take yourself home.

Your feet hurt, what else could you say? Maybe you were a little bit too drunk right now since you were sad over where you had placed your shoes. They were somewhere in the room, you were sure of it.

It was a really emotional endeavor, enough that you felt tears start to come to your eyes thinking about where you placed them. You tried to wipe them away the best you could, trying to not hit your face with the pair of shoes you were holding in your hands.

You walked across the room, hoping to find your husband in the crowd of very important government people whose names had lost you at that moment. Thankfully no one approached you, although maybe it was because they were all as messy as you were.

Tecchou was one of the tallest people there, and even on your tippy toes, you couldn't find his messy chestnut hair in the sea of heads. The feeling of panic started to settle quickly, your heart almost beating outside of your chest - your husband could be almost anywhere.

You turned around, feeling your tongue fall into your throat as you still couldn't locate your man. Wiping your wet eyes, you watched as a man approached you - tall, with messy chestnut hair.

Swallowing deeply, you tried to compose yourself as you saw his eyes land directly onto yours. Against your will, your eyes began to well up with tears once again.

Your feet guided you, rushing towards him like a bullet.

There was no thought as you wrapped your arms around him, your face buried down inside of his red suit. You sighed with relief as you felt your cold nose start to warm up against his body, the air you breathed our fanning against the cold skin on your cheeks as you nuzzled deeper onto him.

“Oh, there you are Angel.”

Two hands pulled at your arms, their warmth shocking your cold skin into goosebumps. His fingertips danced along your skin, callouses massaging your skin all the way up to your shoulders.

“I was looking for you. I was starting to think you got lost.”

You looked up as you said this, blinking innocently up into his honey eyes. He leaned his head a little bit away to stare at you, the tattoos on his cheek blending in with his long eyelashes.

Watching them twitch made your lips curve up, how they perfectly melted in together. You took one of your hands and pulled his face to look down at you properly, his brows pinching as he took in the full sight of you.

“You're so pretty Tecchou. Do you ever hear that?”

He smiled at those words, leaning closer into your hand.

“You told me that on our wedding night, actually.”

His brows pinched again, his gaze looking downward once again.

“Angel, why aren't you wearing your shoes?”

His words took a little to sink in, you still too busy watching how his beautiful face pulled apart as he said those words - the tattoos underneath his eye moving just underneath the small creases from his smile.

“Hmm… My feet hurt.”

You other hand lowered itself, cradling his waist as you swayed to the music that played throughout the room. It was easy to ignore the horrible singing that accomidated it, as you instead focused on the strong muscles that were barely consealed underneath Tecchou's suit.

He barely budges, only swaying slightly as he let you have your moment - watching you with hooded eyes. His steps were small, his heels clicking lightly against the tile of the dance floor.

“You know, if your feet hurt I can just carry you around.”

Stopping, you looked up at him, looking at his face carefully. His eyes held no lie, seeing as he was always a truthful man.

“Are you sure about that?” It was always polite to ask in your mind, even when you were challenging one of the strongest men you knew.

“I can lift twice your weight, you know that angel.“

A small smirk spread on his face as he said this, his eyes poring through your figure. His hands traveled down to your waist, squeezing you gently.

”I wouldn't break a sweat at all, if that's what you're worried about.“

You didn't have time to react as you stomach did twists, Tecchou manhandling you into a bride carry with ease.

”Oh my god, Tecchou!”

It was impossible to hide the joy in your words as he carried you, continuing the dance you had started earlier with ease. He hummed along softly to the song that still played, ignoring whatever wailing words were coming out of a horribly drunk Fukuchi's mouth at that moment.

It wouldn't ruin yours at the very least.

“What? I'm not going to let you walk around while your feet hurt.”

He danced with ease, completing a lazy waltz with you in his arms. His soft locks were lit up by the chandelier above, turned into a soft caramel from the light that shone through the strands. They stuck up in all sorts of directions, forming a creme brulee halo around his face.

You brought one of your arms to wrap around his neck, bringing your fingers to sift through the longer strangs of his hair. It was soft, almost an estactic feeling to have something so ethereal under your hand.

“You're so gorgeous.”

His face was closer to yours, his nose nearly brushing against yours. You giggled, stealing his air as you did so.

“I think you said that to me on our wedding night, handsome.“

His lips were pressed against yours, his handsome face blocking your vision for the rest of that night.

#Idk why im thinking i have a very feminine voice while writing #not bad i think i guess its just a thing i have #idk i use this account to try to improve my writing and this is something i think ive noticed #i might try more scenarios that are based around actions cuz i lack a lot in that area #anyway i wrote half of this to the nutcracker btw so if it seems cheesy its cuz it is someone take tecchou fluff away from me #im rambling here tbh #tecchou x reader #tetcho x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x y/n #tecchou x you #tetchou x reader #tecchou bsd #tecchou x y/n #tetcho x reader

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graciereadshannigram · 2 days

Text

hiiiii, so as y'all may know, i'm doing @absurdthirst's Kinktober prompts, and i am taking requests for any of the days i haven't started yet!

the bolded, single option days are already either started or fully completed, but everything else is fair game. prompts that are italicized are ones that i have a slight preference for, but i'm not super committed to anything.

please, please, please help a girl out and hit me with requests! anon asks are open if you're shy :))

Handjobs

Voyeurism

Public Sex

Sensory Deprivation // Leather or Latex // Watersports

Rough Sex // Anal Beads // Bondage

A/B/O Heats or Ruts // Sadism-Masochism // Anonymous Sex

Bruising or Bitemarks // Virgin // Ice Play

Flogging // Swallowing // Cock Warming

Praise Kink

Face Sitting // Lingerie // Overstimulation

Knife Play

Sex Toys // Dirty Talk // Breath Play

Pregnancy // Aftercare // Roleplay

Gangbang // Collaring // Candle - Wax Play

Hair Pulling // Glory Hole // Teasing

Nipple Play // Cock Worship // Lactation

Squirting // Dom - Sub // Period Sex

Massaging

Suspension // Fisting // Mirror Sex

Cuckolding

Gun Play // Monsterfucking // Shower - Bath Sex

Thigh Fucking

Breeding

Somnophilia

Pussy Slapping // Non Con - Dub Con // Titty Fucking

Pegging // Edgeplay // Seduction

Hate Fucking - Angry Sex

Fucking Machine // Phone Sex // Impact Play

Branding // Hunter - Prey // Uniforms

Sex Pollen

Free For All

#absurdthirst kinktober #kinktober 2024 #i can't believe i have to say this but #minors DNI #hannigram #hannigram fics #prompt me please!!#will graham #hannibal lecter #hannibal #nbc hannibal #mads mikkelsen #hugh dancy #murder husbands

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gregorovitch-adler · 8 months

Text

What Will I Be, Without You?

John had dozed off on the sitting room sofa of his new flat, covered in his own mess. Worn-out, two-day old clothes, stinking with sweat and alcohol.

It had been a year since Sherlock's death. Well, a year and two months to be exact. John had moved out of Baker Street within two days after Sherlock had jumped off the building. He couldn't bear to live in that place anymore.

Not without being reminded of Sherlock in every single particle of that living space.

Not without thinking he saw Sherlock in public every time he stepped out of the house. Not without going through the entire line of thought and regrets.

Regrets about what could have been, if he had been honest about his feelings for Sherlock when he was alive. About how he called him a machine, hours before he committed suicide. All that.

He knew there wasn't any point in living any more, and absolutely not at Baker Street.

So he'd moved out. Having spent the time of his life with Sherlock for a year and a half, after they'd met, had made him somewhat hesitant to actually to take his own life.

That didn't mean he didn't consider that every now and then. The gun sitting on the coffee table probably had a lot of things to say.

A few hours later, the morning light from the outside hit his eyes and they fluttered open. He must have forgotten to draw the curtains last night.

His head was throbbing with pain as he got up. He winced and held his head in his hands. Must be the hangover from yesterday.

He felt disgusted and sluggish, the smell of sweat and alcohol making his nose scrunch. He turned around to drop his feet on the ground to get up slowly. To go on with yet another dreadful day.

When he looked up, a tall figure dressed in dark clothes greeted him. A man with curled hair, sea-green eyes and an impeccable dress sense. He was holding a bottle of tablets and a glass of water in his hands.

John startled and sat back as he stared at him blankly. The man looked strikingly similar to Sherlock, John thought, as he reached for the gun that he'd left on the coffee table yesterday.

"That would be hardly necessary, John," he said, holding held out the bottle and the glass to John. The voice was unmistakeably Sherlock's. John would know. "You should take these."

John's jaw dropped. He felt some dizziness, and he didn't remember the next few moments or probably hours.

John's eyes opened again and he found himself lying on the sitting room floor, covered with a blanket and a pillow beneath his head. He winced as Sherlock sprinkled some cold water on his face.

"You okay?" Sherlock asked, placing a hand on John's left shoulder.

"You... aren't you..." John was suddenly bolt upright on the floor as he stuttered. "You were dead! I saw it happen, I was right there! How... Sherlock, what the hell!"

Sherlock gazed at him for a bit and lowered his eyes. His lips were compressed too. "I'm sorry, John. Forgive me."

John opened and closed his left hand trying to process all the things he was feeling. His hangover wasn't helping. He massaged his forehead with his hand.

Sherlock Holmes was alive.

John still remembered how he wished Sherlock would stop being dead when he was performing his burial.

Not just that day. John kept hoping (begging) for it to happen every single day since then. He thought about nothing but that only yesterday.

Just another day of his live since Sherlock died.

John knew how impossible it was, but he kept asking Sherlock - who resided in his mind, heart, soul, every part of his body - for the same thing: to stop being dead. And Sherlock was alive after all!

His whole body lightened up from within with joy.

But he dimmed again almost as quickly as he'd lightened up.

A whole year of his life had passed by, grieving for nothing. Everything he went through, all alone, was in vain.

John hissed and grabbed his head with both of his hands.

"Please take this. You're clearly not okay and -"

"You don't bloody get to tell me what to do!" he shouted, aggravating his headache some more. "You leave, make me grieve for more than a year pointlessly, I'm left here feeling like a bloody idiot, and you break into my flat pretending none of that happened? Now you're sorry? Perfect!"

John hissed in pain and snatched the bottle of pills out of Sherlock's hand.

John swallowed a pill and drank the glass of water that Sherlock had placed on the coffee table, before he had sat back defensively.

He got up from the floor and went straight to the bathroom to brush his teeth and take a shower, leaving Sherlock behind in the sitting room on his own.

He spent the whole shower cursing Sherlock mostly in his mind (and a bit out loud) and going through a plethora of conflicting emotions. The whole time they spent together, after all they'd both been through, did that mean nothing to Sherlock? Not as much as it meant to John, apparently.

He scoffed bitterly as he continued to wash himself. Sherlock had probably gone to an adventure. Maybe the case was unusually complicated this time. Or, who knows, he probably solved a lot more than just one case during his time away.

Why didn't he let John accompany him then? Was he really that useless to Sherlock? At least he wasn't dead now.

No. Screw that.

John got out of the bathroom and slammed the door of the attached bedroom. He was getting dressed as quickly as he could, planning to head to the kitchen to make himself some tea and breakfast, all while ignoring the hell out of Sherlock. Probably this would make him leave John's flat.

He opened the door to go to the kitchen.

"John." Sherlock called from behind as he followed him. "John? John, listen to me!" his volume was getting higher.

John was not going to respond. He put on the kettle and looked for some eggs in the fridge.

John couldn't help wonder one thing though: why was Sherlock back now, if he thought John's presence in his life was that useless? What was the point?

Maybe Sherlock needed his expertise in his current case. Yeah, fuck that. He wouldn't even think of helping Sherlock after this.

"John, can you hear me? How long are you going to pretend I'm not here?" Sherlock's tone had become indignant. The audacity! "It's not like I'm invisible!"

John didn't even turn around. "Well, you were. For more than a year. Until yesterday." He kept his voice as cool as possible, suppressing his rage.

He took out the eggs and grabbed a pan from one of the cabinets and began to cook.

It must have been two whole minutes of silence in the kitchen while John watched the things he'd put on the stove. He served those eggs on a plate before pouring some tea in his mug.

He set the things on the kitchen table and sat down to eat, as though this was just any other day, and he was the only sign of life in that dark, lonely flat.

He could feel Sherlock's gaze on his face tangibly. Probably he was waiting for John to make eye contact with him. John shifted in his chair a bit.

Part of him wanted Sherlock to get the hell out of here. Part of him wanted the man to stay.

John sighed as he kept looking at anywhere but Sherlock in the room.

"Fine. If you're going to be like this..." he trailed off began to look here and there for his coat.

John's head snapped up. "If I'm going to be like this? Me? Sherlock you utter-"

"I did it for you," he said, looking at John in the eye with earnestness.

John scoffed as he continued to eat.

Sherlock shook his head with his brows knitted. "I'm not lying. Moriarty had appointed three snipers, threatening to kill three people who were the closest to me. You, Mrs Hudson, and Lestrade."

John looked up at Sherlock again with his lips parted.

"His only condition was that I jump off the building. The keycode that I'd deciphered - it was fake. He told me those three snipers could be called off only by him. And then he shot himself in the mouth."

John placed the silverware on the plate. If Sherlock was to be believed, then... Oh God.

"You tell me. What was I to do then? I could either go ahead with Mycroft's plan that involved faking my death, or I could die for real and never come back. Did you really want the latter, John?"

"Jesus, no! Sherlock, I didn't... I thought you were - I thought you'd gone on with an exciting case or something. An adventure. Without me," he dropped his voice a bit in the last sentence. His stomach gave a pang of guilt.

"Why would I do that?" he asked, with a genuine-sounding confusion in his voice.

John shrugged. "Because you thought I was useless. Maybe you didn't need me anymore."

"Don't be ridiculous," he said and drew a chair for himself, taking a seat across from John on the table. "I always need you."

John swallowed as he picked up his fork again. He wanted to reach out for Sherlock's hand. Not now. "There's some more tea in the kettle," he said instead.

Sherlock waved this off. They gazed at each other and, if John wasn't imagining, there was surely something else he could see in Sherlock's eyes apart from the obvious frustration.

Something that probably reflected John's own feelings for him.

John cleared his throat. "What happened after that? Where did you go?"

"Many parts of the world. Russia, China, and India were some of them. I was trying to dismantle his network from its root. My last location was Serbia, before I came back to London, finally. It took me unexpectedly long to get out of there..." he trailed off and swallowed as he looked away.

"Why?" John took sipped his tea some more.

"Never mind."

"Sherlock," he warned and gave him a hard stare.

Keep me in the dark again and I might actually punch you in the face.

Sherlock seemed to have read his mind, because he looked up at John and took a sharp breath. "They captured me in a confined place. Worse than an average jail. They tied me up. Whipped me, starved me to death, and if I would dare to doze off, they'd whip me some more. I had to live with the smell of my own human waste for a whole month." Sherlock bit his bottom lip.

"Jesus!" he exclaimed in a whisper. He looked down at Sherlock's slim forearms that were placed on the table. He wished to reach for them, but didn't, for some reason. His heart was on fire with anger. "How did you escape?"

"Mycroft showed up," he said briefly. "He managed to set me free. And now I'm here."

"When did you come back?" he asked, knowing nothing else to say.

"Three days ago."

"Why didn't you come here then?"

"I was in hospital the first night."

John nodded, blinking a bit with a strange, stinging sensation in the corner of his left eye.

"Then I was thinking of ways to meet you in person. Explain myself to you," he said and paused for a bit. "John, I know you've been through a lot. But I wasn't out there having fun without you either," he said in a cautious tone, sounding quite gentle.

"I know! Or I know now, at least." John swallowed and got up from his chair, his eggs forgotten on the plate. He went around the table and stopped behind Sherlock. "May I see?"

"John... I don't think-"

"Please?"

Sherlock turned around to face John. He nodded and got up from his chair to take off his suit jacket.

He unbuttoned his shirt slowly and shrugged it off, revealing his sculpted upper body and a completely battered back. Black and blue. Some blisters had appeared, too, on his lower back.

"Jesus Christ," John whispered and felt his eyes welling up. John wanted to find all of those arseholes and kill every single one of them. "You did all that for us?"

Sherlock began to put on his shirt again silently. He tucked it in his trousers. "For you, mainly," he said, in a quite tone.

John couldn't take it anymore. He placed a hand on Sherlock's shoulder, making him turn around and placed his arms around Sherlock's neck. He tried to be careful about his wounds.

Sherlock stiffened for a moment but then he relaxed as he placed his arms around John's waist.

They didn't speak for a long moment. John closed his eyes and sighed.

He turned a bit to breathe in Sherlock's perfume and his natural scent from his jawline and neck, enjoying his proximity for as long as he could.

Their arms were wrapped tight around each other and for the first time in a whole year, John felt alive again. John was living in the moment like anything.

"I'm sorry," John said, breaking the silence in the room.

"What for?"

"For assuming the worst about you," he said in Sherlock's ear, with his nose touching Sherlock's cheek. "For reacting like this when you returned."

Sherlock hummed.

"Who else knows about this?"

"Molly and my homeless network."

"Molly?" John's heart sank.

"She helped me with the plan along with Mycroft. It was only possible because Moriarty deduced the very specific people who were the most important to me. She was excluded from the list." Sherlock cleared his throat. "You were the first person I decided to meet as soon as I was discharged from the hospital after coming back to London."

John sighed in relief, feeling bad about jumping to conclusions again.

Another moment of silence fell in the room. Their breathing was synchronised.

Sherlock turned to face John, who did the same at the same instant. Their eyes locked with their noses touching.

Unsure of who initiated it but now John's mouth was on Sherlock's, and they were kissing. John placed one of his hands through Sherlock's curls and deepened the kiss as Sherlock tilted his head a bit.

They parted after some time and stopped for breath. The way Sherlock looked at him was setting John's whole being on fire with all the things he felt for Sherlock at the moment (always had).

"John," he breathed. "Since when?"

"Always. You?"

"Same." Sherlock leaned in to close the gap between them again.

John gasped with relief and kissed him back, trying to express everything he felt for Sherlock through his fervent kisses.

They found themselves moving to the sitting room. No one broke off the kiss, not until they both sank in the sofa, with John on top of Sherlock.

John moved his mouth along Sherlock's jawline and planted kisses along his neck, getting familiar with what that beautiful, long neck felt like at last.

"I always need you," Sherlock said, repeating his statement from before. "You'll never be useless to me." He grasped for John's jumper around his shoulders and held him tight.

"I see. Thank you for telling me," John said when he stopped kissing him. They looked at each other in the eye again. "I need you too. Right now."

Sherlock furrowed his brows. Then his eyes widened. "Oh."

"Please, can we...?" John trailed off, painfully aware of the tightness in his jeans now.

"John," Sherlock began, clearing his throat and shifting back on the sofa to look at him properly. "Let's not, I'm afraid."

"Oh." John shifted too and they were both sitting on the sofa now, facing each other. John cringed at what he was going to do. He was now getting soft. "Sorry. I shouldn't have -"

"It's not that," he said and took both of John's hands in his own. "You don't have to apologise."

"But what's the problem?" John wanted to know. "D'you think it's a bit too soon? I'll understand." He shrugged.

Sherlock shook his head. "There's no problem. I've never done this before with anyone," he said, gesturing between the two of them. "Never wanted to." He looked away and inhaled deeply. "And never will."

John frowned. "You don't want a... relationship, then?" (Please no.) "Still married to your work?"

"What? No, of course I want that! But not the other thing, what you wanted to do with me a moment ago."

"Oh." He looked down at the space between them.

"I've always been like that. Don't think it's personal."

John looked up at him again. Then he tried to recall the term he'd heard (or read) on the internet in passing for people like Sherlock. Asexual, probably.

Once he remembered that, everything fell in place for him.

John nodded in understanding. He stopped feeling anything negative after that. "That's okay," he said and pulled Sherlock in his arms again.

They arranged themselves a bit and John was lying on the sofa on his back, with Sherlock on top of him.

"Do you still want me?" asked Sherlock, with his face buried in John's neck.

"Of course, I do!" John pulled him closer and kissed him on his cheek. "With you gone for a whole year, dead - at least in my eyes - I was lost. Worthless. Feeling like a vegetable. A rotten one. I used to think about taking my life every other day."

"John!" Sherlock turned to look at him, alarmed.

"Why do you think I have my gun lying around, otherwise?"

"Don't do that again. Don't even think about it. Just, please," he rambled, gripping John tight around his waist.

"I won't anymore. I promise. But just saying. I'll never stop wanting you."

Sherlock kissed him on the forehead and smiled against his skin. "Neither will I."

John sighed in contentment. He could stay on the sofa all day with the love of his life.

"Let's move back in to Baker Street. I can't let you live like this. Please."

"I will. Move back in with you, I mean."

They gazed at each other, with John's heart brimming with fondness and love, and began to kiss again. Softly and slowly this time. There was no rush, after all.

They had the rest of their life to love each other as much as possible.

Tags: @helloliriels @gaylilsherlock @gaypiningshit @totallysilvergirl @lisbeth-kk @jamielovesjam @a-victorian-girl @topsyturvy-turtely @keirgreeneyes @peanitbear @inevitably-johnlocked @catlock-holmes

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musamora · 1 year

Note

Hello I hope your having a great day/night but I was wondering if you could do headcannons for Sigma and Dazai with an s/o with social anxiety disorder (like for me I get chest pains and nausea in social situations I’m nervous in, like being around alot of people or awkward situations and very shy to new people) thank you so much if you do end up doing this I love your writing so much btw! :D

𝖘/𝖔 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖘𝖔𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 𝖆𝖓𝖝𝖎𝖊𝖙𝖞

content. gn!reader. social anxiety disorder, panic attacks, cuddling, hurt/comfort. not proofread.

author's note. this is my first time writing for sigma, so i hope it is not incredibly out of character!

would you like to see more? join the taglist or comment under this post!

𝗦𝗜𝗚𝗠𝗔 ⋆⁺₊ ⸺⸺⸺

He would probably initially panic himself.

You cannot tell me this man does not have his own anxiety problems (but it’s more general anxiety rather than social-specific anxiety). But at the very least, he could relate deeply to your pain.

His first initial response is to get you away from the social situation immediately (utilizing his casino manager persona). However, if he can’t get you out of the situation, he will be there for you both emotionally and physically. It’s displayed either by him holding your hand or waist and him constantly making eye contact with you to make sure you’re still okay.

If you’re at an event that you absolutely cannot leave, he’ll take you aside occasionally to a secluded corner to allow you to breathe with him. He is constantly checking up on you throughout the entire event, usually by observing your facial expressions and posture. And if someone is rude to you, that manager persona is in full force.

That man may be a complete nervous wreck (all the time), but it’s almost like the switch flips in his brain whenever someone treats you rudely. (Don’t let him touch the machine guns, though. You’ll have a lawsuit on your hands).

If the event becomes a big stressor, to the point of you having a panic attack, it doesn’t matter what obligations either of you have; you are leaving ASAP.

Once both of you arrive back at your shared suite in the casino, he will constantly question whether you’re okay.

You are absolutely having a little spa night with him – no choice. You’re gonna receive some good TLC to make sure you’re back to 100%. He’ll even order your favorite meal and desserts via room service. You won’t even have to leave the comfort of your bed.

When you head to sleep, he checks on you one last time, massaging any remaining tense muscles as he soothes you to sleep. After all, both of you are in this together.

"It's okay, love. I'm right here with you. Breathe with me, okay?"

𝗢𝗦𝗔𝗠𝗨 𝗗𝗔𝗭𝗔𝗜 ⋆⁺₊ ⸺⸺⸺

At the start of your relationship, this handsome dumbass probably dragged you into multiple social situations by accident (it’s the Osamu Dazai Effect). And honestly, he thinks it’s very cute with how shy you are.

However, once he realizes that these situations cause you actual stress, he starts to feel a bit bad for the previous experiences (this man would be thinking about each situation he had dragged you into, feeling more guilt when he remembered your expressions). He becomes a lot more watchful with the situations you both get involved in.

Don’t get me wrong, the Osamu Dazai effect will unavoidably drag you both back into another situation, but if he can prevent unnecessary stress for his baby, he will. In those inevitable situations, he makes sure to stay as physically close to you as possible (unless he absolutely can’t). For those who know him, it looks like he’s being his clingy self, but it’s all for the purpose of comforting you.

He wants to make sure you know that he’s right there with you, that he’s not gonna let anything bad happen to you.

When the other people involved in the conversation are distracted, he’ll whisper reassurances to you in hopes that it’ll calm you down.

He’ll try to leave the situation as soon as possible, sometimes walking away from the other person mid-conversation.

Also, God forbid someone was mean to you.

There is a reason this man was called the Demon Prodigy—anyone who makes his lover uncomfortable or upset is gonna have a deep problem with him. After all, the saying is that the worst misfortune for Dazai’s enemies is that they are Dazai’s enemies.

Once you both get away, he’ll subtly check in on you in his typical Dazai way (which means mostly by being touchy and over-affectionate, unless you don’t like that).

However, you will receive a hug from this man.

And come on, I don’t doubt that he would be the type to give some of the best hugs when he is in a more serious mood. While he probably runs at a cooler temperature, the large jacket that he wears radiates heat. You’ll be snuggled up against him in no time.

Speaking of snuggling, if the social situation left you especially drained to the point of exhaustion, he would hands-down use it as an excuse to leave work early so that he could cuddle with you while you rest—after all, he needs to keep his baby happy and healthy :)

"Don't worry about talking, dear. I'll take care of everything."

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @imhandicapableofmath

#muse's anthology ‧₊˚ ⋅#gn!reader #✉︎ ⎼ [anonymous] ‧₊˚#bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x reader #osamu dazai #dazai bsd #sigma bsd #sigma x reader

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thesilliestrovingalive · 1 month

Text

Updated: September 19, 2024

Reworked Character #4: Fio Germi

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: Viewer discretion is advised due to references to death and alcoholism.

Real name: Fiolina Hortensia Germi

Alias: Teatime in the Battlefield

Occupation: Master Sergeant of the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. and the medic of the P.F. Squad

Retirement plans: Become a sports doctor and astrophysicist, open up a bakery, and start a family

Special skills: Chiropractic and massage therapy, medical training, housework, acupuncture, and astronomy

Hobbies: All types of sewing (hand sewing, machine sewing, embroidery, and quilting), ballroom dancing, giving her friends massages, cooking delicious meals and enjoying it on a picnic outside, and frequenting petting zoos, nature reserves, and art and outer space museums

Likes: Peppino (she had him since birth), her family heritage, the beauty of nature and outer space, baking cakes and other sweet treats, and Tarma (especially the sound of his voice, pleasant smile, jokes, and knack for building professional motorcycles)

Dislikes: The idea of Peppino being torn apart or stolen, scolding hot and freezing cold baths, the time she had to wear orthodontic braces, insects and creepy crawlies, and cheating

Favourite food: Homemade sandwiches and gelato

Favourite drink: Ice tea (preferably Queen Mary)

Sexuality: Heteroromantic demisexual

Gender: Female

Age: 15 (in 2022), 21 (in 2028), 23 (in 2030), 25 (in 2032), 27 (in 2034), 34 (in 2041), 36 (in 2043), 37 (in 2044), and 40 (in 2047)

Blood type: O+

Weight: 145 lbs. (66 kg)

Design: She’s a 5’ 2” (157.48 cm) Italian mesomorph with sloping shoulders, upper arms that carry some of her weight, a bit of belly fat, voluptuous breasts and hips, and prominent thighs. She has pale ivory skin, droopy blue-grey eyes, and brownish freckles scattered across her face and neck. Fio has a tad messy orangish-brown hair with blunt bangs and straight strands that fall just above her shoulders, but she prefers to keep it tied up in a ponytail. Her fingernails are painted an English lavender hue, and she wears thick, winged dark brown eyeliner, a soft rosy red blush on her cheeks and nose, and cherry blossom pink lip gloss. As a result of battle injuries and her own clumsiness, she bears a bullet wound near the centre of her left calf and numerous cut marks, stab scars, and scrapes on her arms and legs.

Her military gear consists of polarised, silver-plated transition lens eyeglasses, a metal dog tag necklace with her name, and a cordovan Eisenhower jacket. She wears a pink lavender T-shirt with a dogwood rose stripe running along the front and a carmine bra underneath. She wears carmine gloves and a gold-buckled leather belt to secure her ebony army cargo shorts, which fall just above her knees. She also wears ebony paratrooper boots, dogwood rose knee and elbow pads, and over-the-calf bittersweet shimmer socks. She has a khaki waist pack attached to the front of her belt, which carries her nail polish, lip gloss, eyeliner, two makeup brushes (a large one and a small one), a makeup sponge, and a powder blush palette.

She wears a leather sheath for her hatchet, a gun holster for her handgun, and a holder for her tonfa. The pockets of Fio's Eisenhower jacket carry around Peppino, her beloved greyish-brown teddy bear with a pearlescent blue bowtie, a red wooden maneki-neko figurine with its right arm raised and its left paw holding a koban coin (a gift from Eri), and a deck of cards. The pockets of her army cargo shorts carry a canister of pepper spray, a Ventolin inhaler, a bottle of azithromycin pills, and a bottle of specialised prescription supplements specifically designed to manage her cystic fibrosis.

Over her T-shirt, she dons a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) with a MultiCam pattern, which carries her walkie-talkie and ammo for other firearms. Her black ammunition bandolier is slung over her right shoulder, and the back of her Eisenhower jacket features an embroidered S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. logo. Fio carries an ebony load-bearing backpack containing camping equipment, fire bombs, stones, portable ammo boxes, a canteen full of water, a picnic basket filled with prepared sandwiches, two machine guns, medical supplies, and a scientific telescope. She always wears a pair of teardrop-shaped pink opal earrings and a gold chain necklace featuring a red coral cornicello amulet, believed to ward off bad luck and bring good fortune. She also wears a khaki army cap that once belonged to her father during his military service, personalised with a rosy pink patch depicting a European bee-eater perched on a tree branch on the front.

Personality: She's initially reserved and timid around strangers but warms up and opens up once she becomes familiar with new people. She's a compassionate, considerate, and overly cautious listener who's really good with children and lends everyone a generous helping hand. She's sensitive and unafraid to show her true emotions, often engaging in introspective thought. Despite her quiet and calm demeanour, she's surprisingly prone to stress and anxiety, particularly when confronted with obnoxious noises or situations where she can't escape. Even though she's a seasoned warrior, she harbours an intense fear of insects and creepy crawlies, often resorting to hiding behind Tarma, Marco or Eri and insisting they handle the situation. On occasion, she displays an almost childlike naivety and exuberance, typically after completing a mission or while off duty.

She's a very friendly and gentle clean freak who'll do anything to help out her family, friends, comrades, and those in need. She prepares all her meals with love and dedication, considering others' likes and dislikes, hoping they'll enjoy what she's made. When talking to others, she often uses lively hand gestures and animated facial expressions to emphasise certain ideas. She gets easily flustered by compliments and flirtatious advances, blushing deeply and becoming nearly speechless. She's a somewhat superstitious person, believing in things like placing one's hat on a bed being a sign of bad luck for homeowners and spilling salt being a harbinger of financial troubles. She's a nature-loving girl who's incredibly clever and always thinks optimistically. She's a great strategist who excels in keep-away tactics. However, she often pushes people away due to fear and isn't the most skilled fighter, but can fight when necessary.

Whenever she's faced with the death of a child, a comrade or friend being severely injured, being touched inappropriately or being rudely insulted, her face darkens. She becomes cold-hearted and deadly serious, and her tactical prowess shines through most. She's quite curious around strangers, nervously trailing them and asking a few questions to get to know them. Despite cherishing the importance of friendship, she sometimes feels isolated by her exceptional intelligence, privileged upbringing, and cystic fibrosis. She values maintaining a healthy work-life balance and prioritising her time with loved ones, holding both in higher regard than success. She believes that living in or exploring beautiful places helps her become a better person by gaining a deeper appreciation of the world around her.

She originally harboured romantic feelings for Marco, but they dissipated after he disclosed that he isn't interested in romantic and sexual relationships. Her affections eventually shifted to Tarma, whom she found charming due to his silliness, emotional intelligence, Hokkaido dialect, and the soothing sound of his voice. She finds immense comfort in Tarma's presence and often offers him solace when he's having a rough day or struggling with self-doubt. After her romantic relationship with Tarma fully blossoms, she forms an exceptionally close physical and emotional bond with him. However, her tendency to become overly attached manifests at times, especially when feelings of fear or loneliness arise.

She eventually enters into a polyamorous queerplatonic relationship with Marco and Tarma, which she deeply cherishes and further satisfies her craving for emotional intimacy. She's displeased when Nadia takes advantage of her kindness to avoid responsibilities. Additionally, she's frustrated by Eri's overprotectiveness, especially when it comes to Tarma, as it reminds her of her father's behaviour and makes her feel like she's being treated like a child.

When she's reached her limit, feels threatened or needs to express her authentic feelings about something that gets under her skin, she's capable of standing up for herself and making her voice heard. She rarely swears, but when someone's pushed her too far, she'll unleash a stern reprimand, peppered with profanities in Italian. She's not fond of drinking alcohol due to its bitter taste and intoxicating effects, which make her feel nauseous and slightly nervous. However, on rare occasions, she’ll let loose and indulge in alcohol with her friends, especially after a challenging mission. When intoxicated, she starts to act playful, flirtatious and sexually teasing towards Tarma, obnoxiously loud, agitated, and bluntly honest.

She has a tendency to fall asleep extremely quickly at bedtime or naptime, and her loud snoring can be disruptive to others who are trying to rest or focus on important tasks in the same room. She believes that war serves no purpose other than to be destructive, resulting from conflicts that escalate beyond the control of free will. In her view, war profoundly alters the moral fabric of society, while accelerating the advancement of weaponry and technology used in conflict. She’s a firm believer in virtue ethics who holds that life is more powerful than death, as it continually finds innovative ways to adapt and flourish.

Backstory: Fiolina Hortensia Germi was born on October 2, 2007 in Genoa, Italy. The Germi family is renowned for their vast wealth, military service, and philanthropic endeavours. Originally merchants and nobles, they amassed their fortune in the Mediterranean region during the Age of Exploration and have since maintained their wealth, now managing various corporations and philanthropic organisations. True to their militaristic heritage, the Germis have participated in numerous conflicts, including the Napoleonic Wars of the 1800s, the Italian Unification Wars of the 19th century, and modern-day wars against terrorism worldwide. Sadly, many Germi warriors lost their lives, leading to an important family custom where the chosen heir of the Germi family must serve in the military.

Alessandro Germi, Fio's father, was a fearsome soldier in the Regular Army in his earlier years, serving alongside Fabriclus Roving. However, he was forced to leave military service after being severely injured during a shootout, which left him crippled and suffering from debilitating post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). After returning to civilian life and receiving proper support, Alessandro successfully restored his family's struggling business. He also started a family with his beloved wife, Giulietta, a talented seamstress and manager of a luxurious art museum.

Alessandro's wish was to have a healthy son as he feared that sending a daughter onto the battlefield would be a perilous ordeal. To his surprise and dismay, Giulietta gave birth to a daughter, and due to health complications, she couldn't bear any more children. Fio's mother would also experience postpartum depression after childbirth and passed down a disease that runs deep within their heritage: cystic fibrosis. Alessandro's deep-seated fears for Fio's safety often led him to become overly protective, causing tension with his wife, Giuliette, who found his helicopter parenting suffocating.

Despite her parents' mental health struggles, they went above and beyond to care for her, providing unwavering love and support. For half of her elementary school years, she was homeschooled with her parents teaching a diverse range of subjects, including mathematics. They encouraged Fio’s appreciation for friendships, the outdoors, and the finer things in life. They even fostered her love of astronomy, gifting her a scientific telescope on her 10th birthday, which she still has to this day. Giulietta often took her on enriching outings to nature reserves and art museums, where she learned about biology and art history. Her mother also taught her the importance of domestic duties, showing her how to do her chores and clean the house. On special occasions, her mother would dress her up in pretty dresses and give her adorable animal plushies, which she still keeps.

She was bullied and exploited by the other children because of her wealthy status and overt politeness, but her father and teachers consistently intervened. As she grew, she discovered her own voice, learning to assert herself with courage and conviction. Standing up to her bullies with firm yet gentle confidence, she effectively silenced their taunts and earned respect. Like Marco, Fio excelled in all her classes, demonstrating exceptional academic prowess and a deep appreciation for effort and lifelong learning. However, her life took a devastating turn near the end of her secondary school days. A sudden and tragic terrorist airstrike, attributed to the Ptolemaic Army, struck Genoa, Italy, claiming Giulietta among its many victims. Her father was the most affected by this loss, turning to a life of alcoholism and self-isolation. Although Alessandro still cared about Fio and tried his best to support her, his alcoholism and newfound self-isolating behaviour made it challenging for him to do so.

It took time for Fio and Alessandro to heal from this loss, but they remained resilient. To cope with the loss of her mother, she turned to sewing, baking, and reading books on ancient and modern medical practices. Eventually, Alessandro sought help and went to rehab and therapy to address his issues with Fio's support and encouragement. After graduation, Fio was awarded multiple awards and scholarships, which enabled her to attend university. There, she pursued an interdisciplinary course of study, exploring chiropractics, acupuncture, physics, and astronomy.

Fio would eventually express her interest in joining the military after coming across a persuasive flyer to serve in the Regular Army. This revelation horrified Alessandro, as he didn't want to send his only child off to the battlefield, risking her life. He wanted to disregard the Germi's military traditions, believing that war is repugnant and a never-ending cycle of hate and violence. Alessandro tried to deter Fio from joining, but she persisted, driven by her desire to join the fight against terrorism and protect the lives of innocent people. He reluctantly agreed and sent her off to the military at the age of 19, but attempted to minimise her risk by using his connections and friends from his own military days to secure her a desk job, hoping to keep her out of harm's way and away from the front lines.

However, everything changed when a paperwork mistake caused by militant bureaucracy resulted in Fio's transfer to the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., a special operations branch of the Regular Army's Intelligence Agency known for carrying out high-risk missions. Surprisingly, Fio was ecstatic to hear the news as she had been eager to be deployed on the battlefield and make a real difference. In contrast, her father was furious and stormed into military headquarters, threatening officers in an attempt to prevent his daughter from being shipped to the front lines.

He would often try to extract Fio from the battlefield, but she consistently resisted. Eventually, she had enough of his overprotectiveness and bravely told him that this was what she wanted—to fight on the battlefield and provide medical aid. She assured him that she was capable of handling herself. Alessandro finally understood and let her pursue her life as a military woman. In return, she promised to keep in touch with him after each mission, providing him with reassurance and comfort.

Like Eri, she played a crucial role in the Great Morden War by providing Marco's team with useful intel on Rebel Army positions. She also dedicated herself to providing medical support for Marco's team, which led to her being recognized as the medic for the Peregrine Falcons Squad. Her countless battles against worldwide criminality, terrorism, and corruption enabled her to rapidly rise through the ranks, becoming the Master Sergeant of the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. special forces unit. However, her time in the military has taught her a harsh reality: even the good guys can't always protect the innocent or save their friends and comrades. She has witnessed many deaths and severe injuries that left people crippled and traumatised in each battle. Nevertheless, with the emotional support of friends like Eri and Tarma, she has persevered and continues fighting to this day.

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