#ways to reduce neck pain

[msburgundy]

oh boy, the next couple months are going to be rough

[cowsabungus]

Art Hacks for Physical Disabilities!!

I know art can be inaccessible to physically disabled people for a lot of reasons, and I think art should be accessible to everyone, so here’s a couple of the things I found to help for a few different issues you may face that stop you participating!

I have a link to all these items (UK) in my link tree!!

IMAGE DESCRIPTION

Slide one: illustration of a white woman with pink hair, wearing a pink outfit, sitting in a power wheelchair, looking at the viewer with thumbs up. Text Reese “hacks to make art more accessible”

Slide two: illustration of three different kinds, using three different types of pencil grips. One hand uses a circular grip. 100 is a large, rectangular grip. Another uses a grip that is ergonomic and fit into the hand. Main text reads “Paul, grip, strength and dexterity”. Subtext reads “there are loads of different types of pencil, grips or design for different disabilities and conditions. Increasing the width of the pencil can give more texture for a better grip using a pencil with a thicker with also reduces the amounts of pressure needed to hold a pencil you can make your own using items like pool noodles. KT tape an air dry clay. You can also put these groups on things like paint brushes.“

Slide three: illustration of a hand using a tool that looks like a wrist support with a paintbrush connected to it text next to it reads “this talk next a paintbrush to your hand in a way that means you don’t need to hold the paintbrush with your fingers and you will need to move your arm around“ on the bottom right hand corner is in photograph of a guided hand device. Text read “regarded hand as a tool designed to reduce the need for moving your hands and fingers and relies on the movement of your shoulder and upper arms and can be used with different materials like paintbrushes, pencils, pens and styluses.

Slide four: main header reads “when in bed“. Illustration of an iPad pillow with a iPad in it is next to text that reads “iPad pillows, put your tablet at an easier to access level when sitting or lying down“. In the bottom left hand corner is an illustration of a girl sitting in bed in her pyjamas with a pillow behind her and a bed table as she is drawing. On the left hand side is a photograph of a bed table with the text reading “bed tables are used to give you a flat tire up surface while in bed, and are often height adjustable”. In the bottom right hand side is a bedsit, a pillow with the text underneath, reading “ bedsitters of specially shaped pillows that you put behind you in bed to help you set up and give you a soft surface to lean back on”.

Slide five: maisie had a read out “at a desk left”. On the left hand side is a photograph of the document holder with the text “document holders put your paper at an angle to help prevent crane in your neck down”. On the right hand, middle side is an illustration of someone using a armrest and on the bottom left hand side is a photograph of the armrest. Text next to them reads “economic arm rests clip onto your table or desk and give you a surface you lean you’re forearms or elbows on. This can be used to steady your arm and reduce pain and fatigue while sitting at a desk”.

Slide six: maisie reads “foot and mouth painters” . on the right hand side is an photograph of swapping Augustine, an Indian woman with no arms, wearing a sari painting with her left foot. In the bottom left hand corner is an illustration of a woman with green hair painting using her mouth. Text reads “foot and mouth painting is a technique used by artists who do not have, or cannot use their arms so hold the paintbrush in their mouth or using their foot. Swapna Augustine is a foot painter who has painted with her feet and participated in multiple exhibitions of foot and mouth painters. Her art is stunning and I would definitely recommend checking some of help work out.“

Slide seven: main text reeds “art without brushes and pens”. On the left-hand side is a photograph of a spin art device. Text next to read it reads “spin out involves using bottles of ink and squirting them onto a spinning piece of paper to create spiral art. On the middle right hand side is a illustration of a laptop with coding art written on the screen. Text me next to it reads “coding art involves making programs that design and create art pieces digitally. This could be used in conjunction with an eye tracking software.“ On the bottom left hand side is a photograph of a child in a power wheelchair with paint on their wheels painting onto a large piece of paper. Next to this is text reading “wheelchair painting involves putting paint on your wheelchair wheels and moving around and large piece of paper. Sometimes you can connect a roller to create more marks.“

Slide eight: text reads “what do you do to make art accessible for you?”

End of ID.

[ohimsummer]

✎ . . .❝GOOD GRIEF, SUGURU!❞

— minors dni, period cramps, poly!satosugu rs, established relationship, jokes about period sex (from Suguru lmao), suggestive comments, i wrote this when my uterus was uppercutting my ass

You read recently that a broken femur and childbirth are two of the most painful things a human could experience. The way these cramps feel at the moment, you’re willing to fight someone on that.

“No more of these.”

Gojo snorts. It’s like Geto just revealed the worst news in the world, when in reality he’s just concerned for your health.

Your head jerks to look at him, blinking rounded, puppy dog eyes and hand still reaching for the bottle of pain meds. “Satoru, make him!”

He glances back at Geto, who’s tucking the small pill bottle into his pocket and giving Gojo a sinister side-eye that he doesn’t like being on the receiving end of. “ ‘Fraid I can’t help ya this time, baby, Suguru’s word is law.”

“A lie!,” you whine and try to stuff your hands in Suguru’s pockets. “Suguruu!”

“Darling, you’ve taken enough of these already.,” Geto tries to console you, fingers combing your hair as you bury your face in his neck. “It’s not safe to take anymore within 12 hours. You’ll have to hold off for a bit, my love.”

Your pitiful whine breaks both their hearts, and Satoru reaches for another one of the dark chocolate bars he'd bought for you earlier. “Here, open wide. These should help ease your pain, yeah?”

You sniffle, groaning. “You eat it, 's not workin' for me.”

A beat passes before Satoru replaces the candy bar on his nightstand. “I’ll start running you a warm bath, then. That sound good?”

“. .Okay.” It comes out a feeble whisper, and you shiver in Suguru’s arms. “My nipples hurt.”

Satoru is thankfully out of earshot for that comment, but Geto hears you loud and clear, thumbs massaging the backs of your sore thighs. “I’ll suck on them later.”

“No.,” you mumble into his neck. “You’re gonna try and fuck me after.”

A low chuckle rumbles in his chest, a soothing vibration. “Maybe.”

“Gross.”

Geto's shoulders tremble as he tries to hold in his laughter. "Ya know orgasms help reduce cramping, too?"

“You would know something like that, weirdo." Your head turns and you catch a peek at the upturn of his lips. "Besides, I don't want blood all over us.”

“Surely it's nothing I can’t lick up?”

“Good grief, Suguru!,” you push yourself up and away from him, scowling at his laughter and the smirk on his face. “You’re disgusting!”

Satoru calls from the bathroom. “Is he talking about period sex again?”

[livebeforeyoulearn]

Safe in Her Arms

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Use of safe word, Fluff

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: Alexia goes a little too far and cares for you after.

Request

-

Alexia's lips latch onto your neck, branding the tender skin again and again, each press hot and possessive. Her mouth moves with unrestrained hunger, grazing, sucking, her tongue gliding over the bruised spots. She feels like a vampire lost to desire, marking you as hers, and each time her teeth scrape or her lips suckle, you gasp beneath her, arching into her body. 

“Another?” Her words come close to a tease, yet they’re a question too, just as much as a request. You hum in reply, words failing you, reduced to the basic sound that’s enough to make her smirk. 

She shifts, lifting herself up to her knees, her eyes locking onto you in that potent way that leaves you feeling bare, vulnerable, but willing. Your legs are spread wide open for her, aching and receptive, and you’re not sure how many times she’s had you like this tonight – maybe the fifth, or the sixth? Your body is worn and sensitive, surrendering to her insatiable rhythm with a desperation that mirrors her own. But how could you deny her?

“Remember your word, bebé?” she whispers, and you manage a nod. She studies you, intent. “Tell me, I need to know you remember.”

“Red,” you manage, a whisper from hoarse lips. 

She hums in approval, her lips curving into yet another smirk, seemingly thrilled by your surrender. "Good," she murmurs, her gaze intense, devouring you whole. Her hands grip your thighs, keeping you open, exposed, as her eyes drink in the sight of you, desire deepening in her gaze. “Still want me so bad, huh? Have I not given you enough already?” she teases, her voice dripping with a possessive pride that leaves you trembling.

Your response is a helpless whimper, and she leans back, her hand finding the strap, sliding along its length to coat it with the traces of earlier pleasure before guiding it towards you. You can feel her gaze on you, taking in every subtle movement, every little sound you make as she drags the tip of it through your folds.

“Alexia, please,” you beg, voice breaking on the edge of a whine, every inch of you hyperaware of each movement. Her grin only widens, slow and dangerous, as she relishes in making you beg, enjoying every second that she has you at her mercy.

When she finally presses forwards, the tip stretching you in a way that’s both familiar and fresh, your mouth falls open, a strangled moan escaping as she fills you once more. You’re tight, your body trembling, and the pressure makes your eyes roll back, lost in the feeling she draws from you. Her eyes are locked between your legs, completely lost in how you take her; entranced. Her breaths are shallow as she watches your body open up to her touch, every inch of her consuming you.

Her movements start slow as she leans down, her fingers threading through yours, pinning your hands beside your head, trapping you under her as her hips find a steady rhythm. You glance up at her, catching sight of her torso, her abs flexing with each thrust. The sight alone is enough to make you melt, your body responding with even more need. Her eyes trail up your body, taking in every inch before she lowers her mouth to your chest, her lips catching one of your sensitive nipples. Each suck and bite, each motion is precise and demanding, pushing you further until your mind is hazy.

“Ale,” you moan, voice cracking as she moves faster, her rhythm intense, her own need apparent in the way she holds herself. “Fuck,” each thrust sends you reeling, caught between pain and pleasure, unsure where one sensation ends and the other begins, and yet you crave it all, maybe even crave for it to stop, though you can't quite tell anymore. Everything blurs together, and all you can do is feel.

You tighten your grip around her hands, nails pressing into her skin, and she responds with a groan, dragging her teeth along your chest, a teasing nip that makes you cry out. She watches, caught in her own pleasure, your hips lifting despite the overwhelming ache. Her body presses you down, her control firm as she whispers praises, “Ho estas fent molt be, mi princesa.” 

She slips one hand free from your grasp, sliding it down to steady your hips as her thumb begins tracing slow, agonising circles over your sensitive clit. Your free hand drifts down to her abdomen, fingertips pressing firmly along the defined lines of her abs. Your nails rake against her skin, leaving faint, heated crescents in their wake, a breath escaping her lips as she feels each trace you leave behind.

“Mira’t,” she husks. “Taking me so well.”

Her thumb presses harder against you, and as her lips capture yours in a messy, needy kiss, your mind spins. You can feel that familiar heat building, intensifying as she pushes you to the edge one final time until everything snaps, sending you headlong into bliss. Your vision fades, your senses numbing, body going limp. As the waves of ecstasy wash over you, her lips trail down your jawline to your neck, kissing and sucking with fervent desire. Each soft bite sends goosebumps across your skin, pulling you deeper as she explores the sensitive curve of your throat. 

But just as fast as the pleasure washes over you, it shifts – the sharp edge turning from sweet to searing, the sensation that once held you captive now pressing painfully against every nerve.

“Alexia, red, red, red,” you gasp out, voice faint but urgent. She stops instantly, her entire body stilling above you, her breath a sharp intake as she processes the word. She freezes, her lips still pressed to your neck, her hips halted, her breathing heavy as she lets you both catch up, her chest rising and falling in time with yours.

Then, softly, she whispers, “Amor?” Her voice is gentle, a hint of unease beneath the concern. “I’m going to pull out, okay?”

You manage a faint nod, the lingering pleasure melting away as she withdraws carefully, her hand gentle on your stomach, stroking softly as she helps you come down. The bed shifts, the quiet rustling of fabric filling the silence as she slips out of the harness, discarding it with little thought as she watches you with concern.

Exhausted, you roll onto your stomach, burying your face in the pillow. The scent of her skin lingers there, familiar and comforting, and you let yourself breathe, willing your body to relax as the ache fades.

In moments, she’s beside you again, settling on the bed and pulling you close. Her hand finds your face, her thumb wiping away a tear that’s slipped free. She’s quiet, waiting until you’re ready to meet her gaze, and when you do, her expression softens, a tender worry in her eyes.

“Are you okay, mi amor?” Her voice is soft, almost pained. “Did I go too far?”

“No, it’s okay,” you reply, your voice so faint, almost uncertain, feeling the exhaustion seep into every word. “I just need a moment.”

She nods, her face relaxing with a soft sigh, “No rush, mi amor,” she says, her arms encircling you as she guides you on top of her body. Her fingers trail softly across your back, drawing gentle, soothing patterns that steady you, and her lips press delicate kisses to your forehead. 

You stay on top of her for a while, savouring the warmth of her body beneath you, her skin like silk under your fingertips. Your cheeks feel flushed, a faint embarrassment creeping in. It’s not the kind that feels shameful, but it’s enough to make you aware of just how exposed you feel. Admitting you needed to stop, even to her, feels vulnerable, like peeling back an extra layer of yourself and laying it bare for her to see. But you know she’d never judge you; she understands more than anyone. Yet, lying here, pressed against her, it’s impossible to ignore the gentle ache in your chest.

Her chest rises in a deep, slow breath beneath you, and the motion stirs you from the peaceful fog you’d nearly drifted into. Your eyes flutter open, taking in the dim light of the room. Her fingers, once tracing soft, soothing circles along your back, now lie still, her hand resting gently against you. Her lips are pressed firmly to your forehead, her breath soft against your skin. You feel her inhale, breathing you in as if memorising the moment, and it fills you with a strange, quiet peace. Your fingers draw a soft circle against her chest before you find your voice.

“Can we go shower?” The words come out rough, your voice betraying how tired and raw you feel. 

“Of course,” she murmurs, her lips brushing your forehead in a gentle, lingering kiss before she carefully shifts, guiding both of you upright. You slide off her lap as she sits, her hands steady on you, her gaze tender. When she looks at you, her eyes seem to cradle you, holding you in that soft gaze that always undoes you. She leans forwards, her lips finding yours in a kiss that’s gentle and sweet, as if speaking the words she doesn’t need to say. When she pulls away and rises to her feet, she reaches a hand towards you.

She pauses when you don’t immediately move, a faint smile playing at her lips. With a gentle shake of her head, she steps closer. “Come on, I will carry you,” she says softly, amusement and love mingling in her tone.

A shy smile tugs at your lips as you scoot to the edge of the bed, letting her arms slip around you. She lifts you with such ease that you cling to her, feeling the need to be close. You nestle against her, and she seems to sense your desire to be held, pulling you even closer, her lips brushing soft kisses against your neck and shoulder as she carries you to the bathroom.

She sets you down on the cool countertop, and you watch as she moves to turn on the shower, the steam slowly beginning to fill the room. When she returns to you, her palms rest on your thighs, her fingers drawing soft trails along your skin. Her gaze is thoughtful, her eyes tracing over your face with an intensity that makes you wonder what she’s searching for. But her touch, her closeness, is reassuring, reminding you of the trust that exists between you, even in this moment of unfamiliar vulnerability.

Neither of you has ever had to use the safe word before, and you both feel the weight of it, unspoken but there. You know it isn’t her fault – she hadn’t meant to push you past what you were comfortable with. And she did exactly what she should have, stopping the moment you uttered the word, letting the trust between you remain intact. You take a steady breath, grateful for her presence, for how deeply you trust her, and for her respect towards you and your boundaries.

She blinks a few times, her gaze softening as she seems to pull herself back into the present. Her fingers tighten around your thighs for a moment before she nods towards the shower. You give her a look that says enough, and she laughs softly, stepping forwards to help you down.

She slips into the shower first, letting the water run over her as she tilts her head back, closing her eyes in peaceful surrender to the warmth. “Amor, quick, it is lonely without you,” she calls, her voice carrying through the gentle rush of water.

You blink, snapping out of your thoughts, and slowly step into the shower. Your limbs feel heavy, the emotional exhaustion mingling with the physical, but she immediately pulls you close, her lips pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. She reaches for the shampoo, her hands finding their way into your hair, fingers working with such tenderness it nearly takes your breath away. Each touch feels purposeful, soft and attentive, as she washes away the remnants of the night, the lingering weight of the moment. She treats you with a gentleness that makes you feel fragile but safe, a softness that assures you she’ll handle every part of you with care.

When the soap is rinsed away, and you’re both just standing there under the cooling water, she wraps her arms around you from behind, her head resting on your shoulder. You let your hands fall over her forearms, anchoring her close, the moment both grounding and comforting.

“I’m sorry for making you stop,” you murmur, your voice barely audible over the soft patter of water. “I know you were enjoying it.”

She frowns, her face immediately softening as she turns you around, pulling you closer. Your arms instinctively wrap around her shoulders as hers tighten around your waist.

“No, you did exactly what you should’ve done. Thank you for trusting me,” she says, her voice tender, her eyes filled with sincerity that warms you from the inside.

You look down, feeling a flicker of embarrassment you can’t quite name. “Thank you for stopping,” you whisper, a touch of shyness creeping into your tone.

She lifts your chin gently, her thumb brushing against your skin as she meets your gaze. “You don’t need to feel embarrassed, I promise. I am happy you told me to stop. Otherwise, I would’ve hurt you more, sí?”

You nod, your heart easing under her soft reassurance. She gives you a tender smile before leaning in to press her lips to yours, the kiss unhurried and filled with a quiet love.

You stay like that, bodies tangled in soft kisses and gentle caresses, each touch a wordless promise. They never evolve into anything more, remaining innocent and comforting. In that restraint, you feel a respect and care from her that makes your heart ache in the best way. She’s understanding, patient, and everything you need in this moment. It’s one of the many reasons you love her.

As the water finally begins to cool, she shivers and quickly reaches to turn it off, both of you chuckling softly. She’s quick to wrap you in a towel, drying you off with the same care, and once she’s dressed, she helps you into something comfortable before guiding you back to bed.

Under the soft covers, she pulls you close, her arms wrapping around you with gentle insistence. Her fingers trace light patterns along your back, and she whispers soft, comforting words, each one slowly lulling you to peace. She brings a steady sense of tranquility as she lays against you, and as your eyes grow heavy, you feel nothing but safe, loved, and secure in her embrace. She follows you into sleep not long after, holding you close through the night.

[driverlando]

can’t stop thinking about reader who develops bruises really easily and oscar putting ice + kissing them argh😩🫶

You’d always bruised easily, a trait that Oscar found both endearing and concerning. The smallest bump or scrape would leave a mark, a dark reminder of even the gentlest of touches. Tonight, however, the bruises came from something far more intense.

The night had started innocently enough, with a quiet dinner at home and a bottle of wine. As the evening progressed, the conversation turned flirtatious, the atmosphere charged with unspoken desire. By the time you made it to the bedroom, the air was thick with anticipation.

Oscar had been particularly passionate, his usual gentle touches replaced by a more primal urgency. His hands had gripped your hips tightly, his lips and teeth marking your skin with love bites and bruises in the heat of the moment. You loved the way he took control, the way he made you feel completely desired, but it often left your skin tender and marked.

The next morning, as the sun filtered through the curtains, you stirred in bed, feeling the familiar ache of fresh bruises. Oscar was still asleep beside you, his face peaceful, a stark contrast to the intensity of the previous night. You carefully got out of bed, trying not to wake him, and padded to the bathroom.

In the mirror, you saw the evidence of last night’s passion—dark bruises on your hips, love bites on your neck and shoulders. You sighed, both loving and cursing how easily your skin showed the marks of his desire.

You made your way to the kitchen to grab some ice, hoping to reduce the swelling. As you rummaged in the freezer, you heard Oscar’s footsteps behind you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, his chest warm against your back.

“Morning,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your neck. “How are you feeling?”

“A bit sore,” you admitted, holding up the ice pack. “Thought I’d try to ease some of the bruising.”

Oscar turned you around, his eyes scanning the marks on your skin. His expression softened with a mix of guilt and concern. “I’m sorry,” he said, his fingers gently tracing the bruises. “I got carried away.”

You shook your head, placing a hand on his cheek. “Don’t be. I love how passionate you get. Just comes with a few marks.”

He sighed, taking the ice pack from you. “Let me help.”

He led you to the living room, sitting you down on the couch. Oscar knelt in front of you, his touch tender as he pressed the ice pack against the darkest bruise on your hip. You shivered at the cold, but his gentle kisses on your skin quickly warmed you.

“I hate seeing you hurt,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours. “Even if it’s from making love.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, running your fingers through his hair. “It’s part of it. Besides, I like having reminders of you.”

He smiled at that, his lips curving into that boyish grin you adored. “Still, I want to make it better.”

Oscar continued to ice the bruises, his touch careful and precise. After a while, he set the ice pack aside, his hands and mouth taking over. He kissed each bruise, his lips soft and lingering, as if trying to kiss away the pain. The tenderness of his touch sent a wave of warmth through you, the ache in your skin fading under his care.

“Does that help?” he asked, his breath warm against your skin.

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper. “Yes. It feels good.”

His kisses grew bolder, moving up your body, from your hips to your stomach, to your breasts. He kissed every mark he’d left, his hands gently caressing your sides. You arched into his touch, your body responding to his careful attention.

Oscar’s eyes darkened with desire as he kissed up your neck, his hands sliding under your shirt. He pulled it over your head, revealing more of the marks he’d left. His expression softened with a mix of pride and regret.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your collarbone. “I never want to hurt you, but I can’t help wanting to mark you, to show you’re mine.”

“I know,” you whispered, your hands cupping his face. “And I’m yours. Completely.”

His lips captured yours in a deep, slow kiss, his hands exploring your body with renewed passion. You could feel his need, his desire to show you just how much he loved you. He lifted you, carrying you back to the bedroom, laying you gently on the bed.

Oscar’s kisses became more urgent, more demanding. He trailed his lips down your body, worshipping every inch of you. When he reached your hips, he kissed the bruises again, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin. You gasped, your hands clutching the sheets, your body on fire with desire.

He moved lower, his mouth finding your core, his tongue teasing your clit. You cried out, your hips bucking against his mouth. He held you down, his hands gripping your thighs, his tongue working you expertly. The pleasure built quickly, your body arching off the bed as he drove you closer to the edge.

“Oscar,” you moaned, your voice trembling. “Please, I need you.”

He pulled back, his lips wet and swollen. “Not yet,” he said, his voice husky. “I want to take my time.”

He climbed over you, his body pressing you into the mattress. He kissed you again, slow and deep, his hands roaming your body. You could feel his hardness pressing against you, but he took his time, making sure you were ready.

When he finally entered you, it was slow, deliberate. He filled you completely, the sensation overwhelming. He set a gentle pace, each thrust slow and deep, his eyes locked on yours. You could see the love, the desire, the need in his gaze, and it made your heart swell.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “Every part of you.”

“Yes,” you gasped, your body trembling with pleasure. “I’m yours, Oscar. Always.”

His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more urgent. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper, your nails digging into his back. The pleasure built to an unbearable peak, your body shuddering with each thrust.

“Oscar, please,” you begged, your voice desperate.

He reached between you, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles. The added sensation sent you over the edge, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. You cried out his name, your vision going white with pleasure.

Oscar followed soon after, his release shuddering through him. He collapsed onto you, both of you panting, hearts racing. After a moment, he rolled to the side, pulling you with him so you were nestled against his chest.

You lay there together, tangled in each other, the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through you. The bruises were still there, but the pain was a distant memory, replaced by the warmth of Oscar’s love and care.

As you drifted off to sleep, you felt safe, cherished, knowing that no matter what, Oscar would always be there to take care of you, to love you, bruises and all.

[heejake-hoon]

could you do something like this for enha? <3

https://www.tumblr.com/diorcities/751314995277692928/%F0%93%8F%B2-nct-dream-hand-placement?source=share

─Enhypen legal line hand placement─

Heeseung: Hair. He'd tangle his fingers in your locks tightly, using the grip to guide your motions on his thick shaft. With each thrust upwards, he'd yank your head back sharply, eliciting whimpers of painful pleasure. Making you feel owned, dominated, thoroughly used for his gratification as tears well in the corners of your eyes from the stinging pull.

Jay: Inner thighs. Spreading your legs obscenely wide, Jay would hook his hands under your knees, pinning them apart as he slams into your wetness relentlessly. The position leaves you completely exposed, vulnerable, legs trembling from the stretch. He'd drink in every lewd expression on your face unabashedly, reveling in how readily your body yields for him.

Jake: Wrists. Pinning your arms above your head with one strong hand, Jake would loom over you, hips snapping forward urgently. You're rendered immobile, defenseless against his onslaught of powerful thrusts that rock your petite frame. The flex of his biceps as he restrains you sends a delicious thrill down your spine.

Sunghoon: Throat. His hands would find your throat, long fingers wrapping around the delicate column as he slams into you from behind. You'd choke on your desperate moans as he squeezes, cutting off your gasping breaths with every punishing thrust. The intoxicating blend of pleasure and pain'd have your vision whiting out at the edges. He owns you utterly in this position, encasing your fragile neck as he claims you roughly.

Jungwon: Mouth. Jungwon would muffle your cries of bliss with his palm, fingertips digging into your cheeks as he pounds into your soaked entrance with sinful abandon. You suck greedily at the digits parting your lips, tasting yourself on his skin while he relentlessly chases his own release. The wet, obscene sounds of your joined bodies are music to his ears as he reduces you to a quivering, oversensitized mess.

Sunoo: Breasts. Sunoo's hands would knead and squeeze at your soft, plush breasts as he pounds into your drenched heat. His fingers would tug and twist at your hardened peaks, sending electric currents of pleasure-pain jolting through your body. You'd arch wantonly into his touch, pushing your heavy mounds together to create delicious friction against his palms. He revels in the way they bounce and jiggle with the force of his thrusts, marking your skin with rosy trails from his nails.

Sorry for being late, i've wrote it a long time ago but forgot to post it TT. Anyways hope u enjoy it🧡🧡

[etclouie]

Hiii <3

Can I request a poly!marauders x reader where she gets a new piercing. And then like how the guys react to it like if they accidentally touch it and hurt her or helping clean it and stuff! Thx xx

tender care

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 summary: getting a new piercing and your boyfriends become overly cautious around it (poly!marauders x fem!reader)

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 warnings: fluff mainly, piercing isn’t specified but it’s visible on eye level (if this makes sense), the boys being surprised by the piercing at first but they get over it, someone elbows the piercing in their sleep, one to one convo with sirius, sirius calls remus a ‘restless bugger’ once, pretty sure that’s it??, lmk if i missed any

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 word count: 657

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 a/n: sorry it took me so long to get to this (first post after kinktober too, so hope it’s a good comeback)

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 marauders masterlist | main masterlist

you’d gotten a new piercing over the holidays, forgetting to mention it in the letters you’d sent your boyfriends before they came over to yours to stay. 

Sirius and Remus arrived at the same time, while James was late. the three of you were hanging out in your room until the door opened, revealing James holding his bag. 

“starting without me?”

he teased like he always did, standing from between both other boys to give James a kiss on the cheek. 

and that’s when he seen it. 

your new piercing. 

“wait, when’d you get that?”

his question had Remus and Sirius’ ears perking up before they were leaping out of bed to re-examine your appearance, eyes landing on the piercing before giving each other a questioning look. 

“oh a couple of weeks ago, must’ve slipped my mind when i was writing to yous”

you told, eyes flicking from James to Sirius and then to Remus. looking away from the three of them as they started to fawn over the piercing, mumbling out about helping you take care of it. 

“why didn’t you tell us?”

Sirius chimed in, slightly disregarding your words and attentively pointing out towards the piercing. 

practically poking and prodding at the newly healed piercing, before you were pushing his hands away. 

“it’s not like i didn’t want to tell yous, i just forgot to. besides, kinda knew you’d react like this”

you told, hooking a finger under Sirius’ chin before tilting it away with a smile. turning into Remus while his hands carefully splayed across your hips, eyes admiring the new jewellery you adorned. 

“ignore them, think it looks great. they just want to make sure you’re doing fine, taking care of it ‘nd all”

nodding along to his words, head tilting back towards the other two boys who were nodding in agreement to Remus. 

smiling at their concerns, your boys really did worry about you. wanting to take care of every little thing for you. 

climbing back into bed and patting the empty spaces around you, humming as they followed after you and cuddled in around you. 

James on your right side and Remus on your left, while Sirius lay his head on your lap. combing your fingers through his hair as the three of them continued on about taking care of you and your new piercing. 

you’d woken up before the boys, your parents away to work before any of you would’ve dreamed to of woken up. 

making your way into the bathroom to get ready for the day, dabbing a damp cloth at your new piercing trying to reduce the pain from one of the boys elbowing it in your sleep. 

the creak of the bathroom door opening had your attention darting towards it, eyes landing on Sirius. 

“sorry wasn’t expecting anyone else to be up yet”

you told, pulling the towel away from your piercing and setting it down on the rim of the sink. 

holding your arms out to Sirius, his head resting on your shoulder and your arms going around his neck. pressing a kiss to his forehead as he cuddled in as close to you as he could, his arms loosely crossed at the small of your back before he murmured out. 

“what’s the towel for?”

fingers brushing his hair out of his face as you held his gaze, his head lifting and his eyes holding concern at your prolonged pause. 

his hands moving to cradle your face and tilting it from side to side, searching for any wounds or injuries before his eyes landed on your new piercing. 

“someone managed to elbow it during the night, but i’m fine promise”

you tried assuring him, smiling softly up at him. his thumbs soothing once over your cheeks before he was resting his forehead against yours, voice a tired murmur as he replied. 

“i’ll have a word with them, was probably Remus, y’know how he gets. restless bugger”

requests are open here !

[dilfsfordinner]

“Mi amor- ngh, a- ha-” Miguel’s voice was reduced to nothing but ragged syllables slurred together, groans spilling from his lips as he bullied into your now raw and sore cunt.

Scarlet eyes were glued to your face, watching as you writhed beneath him, droplets of sweat sliding down your flushed neck, your eyes squeezed shut and eyebrows drawn up, mouth releasing little pants and moans of his name.

“Y/n- ay carajo-” he choked out, his large hand cupping your cheek to pull your attention back to him, “look at me.” With fluttering eyelashes, your watering eyes opened to latch onto him, a light groan leaving his lips at the look on your face, your expression the effect of his very targeted pace. His hips continued to snap into yours, your knees bent to cradle his shoulders, thighs pressing against your chest in a mangled hold.

Your husband wasn’t someone one would call careful, especially when it came to himself, but with you waiting for him at home he found it his personal duty to always make his way back to you. His recent mission had gone awry and he found himself hanging on the edge between life and death, the image of you in his mind his only motivation to keep pushing, and when he did come back home, you were immediately subject to his burning hunger, his need to protect and prove to himself you were safe only satiable through the form of intimacy you both loved most.

You had been in all sorts of positions already, your current being the favorite, your pliant body bent basically in half to take him. His heavy cock continued to stretch your insides to the limit, every vein lining his shaft catching on the ribs of your walls to ignite hot, blinding pleasure throughout your body.

“Araña, Migs- s’too much,” you panted, your eyes looking down to where you connected, your most sensitive area now red and practically gleaming in your shared liquids, cunt literally sucking him in, skin wrapped taut around his shaft as he pumped in and out. You couldn’t help admire him as he took you, his skin glistening with sweat; his dark hair messy, stray pieces sticking to his forehead; his muscles rippling from exertion, pure strength lining his arms as they cradled you.

“I know-” Miguel whispered, his fingers carding through your hair as he kissed along your neck, “Corazón.. I know you can take it for me.” With his sweet words, he upped the intensity, strong legs aligned with the backs of your thighs as he pushed into you, his thick cock now completely sheathed in you. It was a feeling like none other, some pain mixing with your pleasure to enhance your senses, your lips letting out little cries as he thrusted into you, his cock visible underneath the sheet of skin covering your belly.

His movements seemed endless, every ushered word and tender kiss infinite, the only end you ever felt being the snap of pleasure in your core accompanied by a surge of thick liquid filling you, a heavy body collapsing atop your own. Miguel wasn’t careful, no, but when it came to you, he found his apathy slowly turning upside down into the pounding desire to protect and provide.

—————————————————————————

—————————————————————————

mi amor- my love

ay carajo- oh fuck

araña- spider

corazón- sweetheart

[a-b-riddle]

Runaway Love (kidnapper Price x captive reader)

cw: established kidnapping, violence, intimidation, unplanned pregnancy, miscommunicated threat of forced abortion, eventual Stockholm syndrome, housewife kink. Reader just accepts her situation at this point. Dub-con, non-con.

You couldn't think of anything except the pain that radiated with each step toward your room. You were lucky your work and home were the same place. It was incomprehensible, downright unbelievable how some of the other maids worked their shift and then either walked home or walked to the bus stop.

Granted, most of them weren't pregnant and had shoes that actually fit, but you didn't like to complain. You were lucky to have the job, even if it was back breaking. You had a roof over your head and although the pay was minimal, you were able to buy essentials and save up and with a baby on the way every penny saved counted.

Most importantly, you were free. You were safe and so was the baby. It had been the only reason that after almost a year, you had finally been brave enough to escape. Knowing that it would be hard to rebuild a life from scratch. Knowing that the consequences meant a punishment so severe you could only hope for death.

You had tracked your period religiously. Even with the stress of being held captive by a psycho military Captain, your cycles were fairly normal. So when you were five days off, you knew. In a moment in which you wanted nothing more than to be happy to finally be starting the family you dreamed about having as a little girl, fear enveloped you.

John had never mentioned kids. Only a wife. Someone to be at home waiting for him. Keeping the house in order and his bed warm while he was away.

All I need is you and the boys, Birdie. What more could a man want?

You considered telling him. Hoping that he would be as happy as you wanted to be. Yet anytime you came close to telling him over the next two weeks, horrible thoughts raced through your mind. What if he was angry? What if he blamed you even though he practically took you whenever he pleased? How would he terminate the pregnancy or would he be content in letting you give birth without any medical intervention and simply get rid of the baby after?

Would he just get rid of you altogether?

It was like the universe was telling you to run when shortly after you decided that telling him wasn't the answer, that he told you he was going on a mission. Won't be back for a couple of weeks. Sent the boys to pick up anything you'll need. I know you'll be good for me.

You had been good. For that last six months, you had behaved. Didn't pull away from his touch or put up a fuss. You lived in the epitome of domestic bliss, so John had no reason to send you down to the basement. Not when you had so many opportunities to try to escape and you didn't.

Granted, he had threatened to break your legs during your first and last stunt. You had been in the basement for three weeks. Living in near darkness as he brought all of your meals. You had been upstairs for about twenty minutes and barely made it to the door before he tackled you. Pinning you to the ground, breath hot against the back of your neck as he hissed in your ear. Ungrateful little brat.

Your apologies fell on deaf ears as he hauled you back down where you would stay for six weeks.

For months you built the relationship on a lie. A lie John deluded himself into believing. Anytime he told you he loved you, you repeated the words back. Wanting to scrub your body raw anytime he touched you and hating yourself anytime he made you come.

But it had been worth it. You were four months along, and given your ill-fitted clothes, not really showing, but knowing that in another five months you would be holding the baby you always wanted. A baby that you had went through hell for. Seeing his or her face for the first time, being their mom would be worth it.

You kept all of the lights off. It was a request of the motel owners to reduce their bills. So even if it was early December and you knew you would be walking back to a freezing room, they didn't give a shit. In truth, they were doing you a favor only charging you $400 in rent with unlimited access to their laundry services. You suppose having the pity of others did have its perks.

You hadn't even bothered to turn on the lights before pulling your shoes off your feet and plopping down on the bed. The grit and grim still felt thick on your skin, but you couldn't find the energy to care. You would shower and get on a fresh set of clothes you had gotten from the shelter when you first made it into the city, but for now you needed a moment. Just a few minutes to decompress.

A few minutes turned into five and then ten. Before you knew it, you had been laying in the bed floating in and out of consciousness for almost twenty minutes. You knew you needed to get up. Wash away the grime of the day that had settled on your skin. Your clothes smelling faintly of bleach.

Fuck you were tired.

You were always tired.

You got up and made your way to the bathroom, barely keeping your eyes opened. Not confident enough you would actually be able to take a shower without wanting to lay down in the tub and let all the strain of the day go down the train.

It's funny how the human body can make us teeter on the edge of sleep. We imagine things that may or not be there. But when you heard it, when you heard that voice coming from the corner of you room, you knew you weren't imagining anything.

"Wonderin' when you'd wake up."

[erosiism]

𝐂𝐎𝐈𝐋 | m!naga x m!human!reader | nsfw

scenario: (m/n) fucks his boyfriend, who happens to be a naga | naga’s name is aruna

contains: breeding kink, mating press, belly bulge, biting (probably more but I'm not thinking straight as I write this (literally), fucking a naga, naga has two dicks

word count: 2k 

author’s note: alas… my dignity fails once more. this was written months back so it isn’t as good as my current writing lol I feel like I’m morphing into a smut blog  | excerpt from swipe right

DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE.

First, there was heat. A strong, searing heat. A insatiable desire—

"Fuck," (m/n) hissed sharply, as he felt something hard, something big, press against his groin—"Aruna, you—you—"

How did he even get himself into this situation? Was it the fact that his ex boyfriend had somehow managed to find (m/n) and insert himself into a date that was supposed to belong to them? And (m/n) had later said flippantly to Aruna to shut him up later if he was being annoying, and...

I didn't mean in that manner, (m/n) swallowed. Because now that usual lightheartedness —  that usual dismissal Aruna had to his stupid remarks had morphed into something deeper, darker—dangerous. Aruna had always let whatever comments (m/n) would say roll off his back—(m/n) was very aware that whoever else said those would probably get thrown off a cliff, brutally killed, or...

(m/n) had always been the exception.

And he supposed that it was the same case with the naga's desires. His sexual desires.

"I what?" Aruna fucking smiled, looking down at (m/n) with such an aggravating smug look on his face that (m/n) felt the urge kiss it off—"did you not place a bet, my dear (m/n)?"

"What bet," (m/n) furrowed his brow, "I didn't even—mph!"

His words were cut off when Aruna swallowed his lips up in a hot, steaming kiss, and (m/n) could feel the way the naga's tongue slid into his wet, hot, mouth, explore every inch of it until it even ventured to his throat, making breathing impossible—

(m/n) had to push him away, as he panted for air. He couldn’t see straight as his lungs searched for oxygen, his chest heaving. There was a thin string of saliva between the two of them, obscene, suggestive—Aruna's tongue had pulled at his lip, brushed the top of his own tongue, and had ridden along the ridges of his teeth, stretching at the corner of his mouth.

"You look so, so pretty," Aruna cooed, "don't you think? You look so beautiful, darling."

(m/n) really tried to subdue his raging erection, but coupled with Aruna's own pressing against him, making a few loose moans slip past his mouth...

Yeah. That wasn't going to happen.

"What do you want, (m/n)?" Aruna purred, "tell me. What do you want?"

"I—" (m/n) was a prideful man, but this was what Aruna had reduced him to. A loose, whimpering mess. "I want you to fuck me."

He wrapped his arms around the naga's neck for a deep, prodding kiss, one that tore the oxygen from his lungs, one that sent heat raking up in spine and blush spreading to his ears...

"That can be arranged," Aruna nipped at his lip—they moved against each other like crashing waves, desperate and hungry. (m/n) searched for something. Anything, to stabilize him, to hold him. He tangled his fingers in the silk lengths of black hair, making a soft moan rumble from the naga's chest.

It was so, so good.

And they hadn't even...

"Clothes. Off," Aruna whispered, his tone demanding and his hands hooking up (m/n)'s shirt—"don't tell me you cannot afford to buy more, with my money?"

"Hah, you certainly can—" The retort had not even left (m/n)'s mouth yet before the naga had torn his clothes off. Not even —

"Good to hear," Aruna said breathily, a smirk on his face, "to know you know I don't lack in funds, and that you can use it all up." He tipped (m/n)'s chin up, pressing a few kisses firmly onto his jaw.

Like the calm before the storm. Like Aruna was coaxing him for the sure pleasure and pain that was about to tug at his gut.

(m/n) hissed again when his cock found friction against the naga's thigh, and dug his fingernails deep into the muscle of his arm. He was bare—completely bare. Aruna could see every part of him, could annotate every inch of his human anatomy to his brain.

And the way the naga soaked that sight up, with his gaze, with the way his fingers took his own clothes off to reveal two—

Majestic. Aruna's naga form was majestic. From  the way those scales glittered so well under the light, so ethereal, so beautiful, from his tail, his eyes, his body...

(m/n) whimpered.

Aruna rolled them both over until (m/n) was the one on his back being pinned down.

“Say please," Aruna bent over him. The naga's silky black hair brushed against his chest, dragging along (m/n)'s nipples, breaking whatever composure and pride that the crown (m/n) was desperate to cling on. He didn't care how his voice sounded—needy, broken, already fucked out even when they had yet to start: "please," (m/n) managed to croak out, "please."

It sounded like gravel, it sounded like he was begging. The warmth in his stomach seemed to pulse through his body.

"Your voice is lovely," Aruna crooned, and brought his fingers to (m/n)'s lips. "Suck." His black eyes seemed to sear right through (m/n), and the finger in his mouth pressed down hats to trap his tongue. And so (m/n) did it dutifully, costing the naga's fingers in a thin sheen of saliva, wet and hot. (m/n) let out a choked huff of air, as he felt the fingers explore his mouth, felt those fingers crawling towards his throat, down and down and down...

Aruna pulled it out, looking satisfied. Pressing another gentle kiss onto (m/n)'s collarbone,  more marks were sucked into his skin into a little trail, leading whenever the naga fancied. It moved from the top of his neck, to his collarbone, trailing down to his bare chest. 

More, (m/n) pleaded, more. More. More. More—

Two wet fingers pressed against insistently at his entrance, and (m/n) immediately lifted his hips up with a hiss, relishing at the burn. At the stretch. It promised some level of release for the tension that had built up in his body.

And that damned naga sure took his time opening him up. 

A third finger joined after a period of time, and (m/n) felt the urge to snap at the naga, when the stretch had started to hollow him out.

"Patience, my dear (m/n)." Aruna whispered softly, yet wasn't he a hypocrite? The naga's restraints seemed like it could burst any second now, like it was boiling and simmering over the surface, "did no one teach you that?"

"You...agh!" When (m/n) opened his mouth to retort weakly at him, those fingers crooked inside of him, rubbing right into the spot that took the breath from his lungs all over again. He dug his fingers into the bed coverings and keened—his back arched into Aruna's hands, begging and begging to be fucked.

But that naga...all he did was proceed at a steady pace, before he added a fourth.

The stretch was exquisite, and was delightful. It promised to take some edge of the heat off him, and he let go where his hands were fisted, curled around the blankets to turn his face towards Aruna, tears rolling down his face.

"Please," (m/n) choked out, "please, Aruna. Please, please, please—"

Those four fingers rubbed against his prostate, almost like it was trying to milk his cries. His broken, hoarse moans. 

Fuck. He was panting now.

He almost sobbed when those fingers pulled out of his body. No, no. That wasn't... wait, was it? No. He wanted something more. (m/n) wanted to get fucked by more—the enormous cocks that the naga had—he didn't want to get fucked by four fingers, and yet it seemed like —

Teeth grazed his nipple before it moved up his throat. 

"Aruna," (m/n) said deliriously, "you. I want you..."

A solid hand planted down his back, forcing his chest back into the bed, his teeth dragging along the nape of his neck. Aruna bit. He bit there, his fangs sinking deliciously and deliberately into (m/n)'s flesh, sending a ripple of crimson trickling down. (m/n) let out a gasp, before the pain was slowly forgotten when finally, something hard dragged and slid across him.

The tip of them teased over the sensitive edge of his rim, as Aruna continued to mark him—continued to stake his claim. It was like the naga wanted to make sure that to the rest of the people that (m/n) had matched with, his loyalty didn't lie with them, it lay with him, first and foremost.

(m/n) belonged to him. Aruna belonged to (m/n).

The agonizing slide finally ceased, the head of Aruna's cocks—both at once, was what (m/n) wanted desperately, something to fill him up, please, please, please—

(m/n) felt it. He felt the burn of his rim being breached by something much, much, much thicker than four fingers. Something full, something that was about to burst. 

"Fuck, yes, yes," (m/n) begged with his wrecked voice, "Aruna, Aruna, Aruna—!" Given now the name crossed his lips between the prayer and a plea, he could and would have told all his friends to fuck off if it meant the naga could continue.

"I'm not even halfway," Aruna murmured, tone raspy and so hazy, "Open your legs wider."

It felt like (m/n) was being reshaped—Aruna touched the tight skin over his abs, not to bring him to release, but to feel the outside of what was inside him.

Halfway. Halfway, and there was already an outline of the cock visible from his skin.

And Aruna pressed. He pressed on it, his voice sultry and smooth, so satisfied.

"You look beautiful," He crooned, even when sobs erupted from (m/n)'s body—move, damnit. Move—"I wonder what you'll look like, filled with my children and full of my seed? Would I be able to run my fingers over the curvature of your body, and drink in the sight for months?"

"want it," (m/n) panted, "your children. I want them all..."

The cocks started their long drag out of him, pulling almost to the top before it slipped right back in. (m/n) expected roughness—he expected the rough plunge that would be sure to fuck every inch of sense up when he braced against the pillow, but was treated with a slow slide right into his burning rim that pressed the full breadth of his stroke against his prostate.

Aruna grazed it shallowly with every movement he made.

A sharp bite broke his skin again over his shoulder blade. Aruna's tail curled around slowly, making (m/n) curl into his touch.

"You want me to fuck you, my dear (m/n)?" Aruna purred into the sweat soaked skin of his shoulder.

"Harder," (m/n) panted. “Harder, please. Harder…” He scratched at Aruna’s back, fingernails digging into the naga’s skin.

Aruna let out an affectionate rumble from his chest.

"Gladly," He punctuated the word with a rough thrust that rattled the teeth in (m/n)'s jaw. The hand on his back forced (m/n) to lift his body higher, and (m/n) felt himself stretched and filled to the point where it felt like he would ever be empty again.

"So perfect," Aruna breathed, "you opened up so nicely for me."

(m/n) desperately reached up and tangled his hand into Aruna's loose hair. He twisted and pressed a kiss onto his lips before another earth shattering thrust fucked the strength right out of him, the warmth crawling up on him turning into a flame that threatened to consume them entirely.

Aruna reached out and grasped the back of (m/n)'s neck, using it to pull (m/n) back deeper.

It continued. Each thrust, each moan that slipped from (m/n)'s lips, each kiss. So gentled and heavy, so different from the movements down his hips.

"Inside—" (m/n) pleaded, a punishing thrust forcing the last word in one singular puff of hair—"me. I want you to fuck me so hard that the only thing I'll be comfortable on is your lap."

Something blazed in those black eyes. Aruna hissed, sinking his teeth deep into the back of (m/n)'s neck, where there were already crimson marks beaded with thin rivulets of blood. It was the bite that sent (m/n) over the edge. A final thrust pressed him flush into the mattress, his pleasure addled mind flickering and shaking at the last slam of Aruna's hips before he spilled, taking in the twitching of the naga's cocks, feeling the warmth that rushed into him.

He bonelessly collapsed, feeling the feather light kisses being pressed against deep aching marks.

"That was the first round," Aruna said in his signature honeyed tone, "you can't tell me you're already satisfied, when you were begging for it so desperately earlier..."

He captured (m/n)'s lips in another filthy kiss.

"Did you know, my dear (m/n)? A naga's stamina is plenty."

hope everyone liked it! don’t let it flop by reblogging, liking, and commenting ❤️ thank you for all the support so far

[flaggermuser]

I Bet On Losing Dogs

484 words || Definitely fluff, Cuddling, Night terrors/nightmares, Homelander being loved, GN Reader ||

Inspired by the song I Bet On Losing Dogs by Mitski

Thank you to @homeb0ys for the gif and @hom3landr for being the beta

You’d only left your bed for two minutes, having to get up for a glass of water when you returned.

Only to find him already in it, the covers pulled up to his neck, his suit hanging on the valet stand you’d bought especially for him.

“Another nightmare?”

Homelander nods - for the most powerful supe in the world, it was almost astounding that he could be reduced to a mess by something as trivial as a bad dream.

At least it did before he told you all about the bad room.

Then it all just made sense.

You place the glass of water on the bedside table, removing your pyjamas and slipping into bed. Immediately, he pulls you to him, his face buried in the crook of your neck as your arms encircle him.

Sleeping naked with him isn’t always sexual.

Sometimes he just needs the skin-to-skin contact to help ground him when the dreams wear their terrifying disguises, masking the reality that they’re really just painful memories, forcing their way to the surface.

Your fingers rake through his hair, your lips pressed to his forehead, your hand tracing patterns on his back all the while, you sing softly to him.

“My baby, my baby. You’re my baby, say it to me.”

If only you knew how important you truly were to him, how you created a place of safety, his only anchor to reality when he’s lost in the maelstrom inside his own head.

It’s a prison, not one of his design.

But fabricated from the shards of a young boy’s shattered mind.

“Where I'll be looking in their eyes when they're down. I'll be there on their side, I'm losing by their side.”

This night’s terror has him shaking in your arms, hot tears cascading down your chest, prompting him to hold you even tighter to the point where it’s almost crushing.

You would struggle for breath if you hadn’t learnt how to breathe through it. The bruises you’ll have in the morning are a small price to pay for keeping the horrors of his past at bay.

He’s shaking - once again forced into the shape of a frightened boy with no one to comfort him.

But you’re here.

With your love and your warmth.

Actions always speak louder than words and, in the moments where he’s amid maddening horror, your actions speak deafeningly loud.

They drown out the reconciliations, the overwhelming fear that threatens to consume him, to drag him down to the darkest recesses of his psyche where he’s truly broken, truly vulnerable.

In the blink of an eye, he relaxes, nuzzling further into your chest while falling asleep. Yet your grip on him never falters, you hold him tight the whole night through, reminding him that he’s safe, that he’s not alone.

You’re the lighthouse for the ship that he is.

Guiding him home when he’s lost at sea.

[mx-monster]

request: male rabbit monster x human (any gender) dubcon

M!rabbit monster x f!human

cw: heat/rut cycle, dubcon,

It was a such normal morning.

You were startled awake by the piercing shriek of your alarm. You dragged yourself from the comfort of your bed, ate breakfast, got ready for work, clocked in five minutes before your shift and sat at your desk.

A morning like any other morning. No hint that something was wrong. No sign that your whole world was about to be turned upside down.

Until your boss called you into his office. Until you damn near fell over from shock at the sight of your boss fisting his large cock. Until you were pressed up against the wall with his arms planted on either side of your head. His face buried in you neck, licking and sucking at the sensitive flesh.

“I’m sorry,” your boss whispered. But his apparent remorse didn’t stop him from grinding his hard cock against your thigh. His hand stuffed down your panties, rubbing your clit and dipping his fingers into your cunt. To say that you were stunned was an understatement. While rabbit monsters often got stereotyped as walking HR nightmares that didn’t think about anything other than food and fucking, your boss had been nothing but professional with his employees.

“Uh, Sir,” you managed to stammer out, “would you like me to call someone?”

“No,” he groaned into your neck, hot breath sending pleasurable chills down your spine, “I need you.”

While you weren’t an expert on rabbit monster heat and rut cycles, you knew enough to know that they were frequent and brutal. Often reducing the rabbit monster to their basest instincts.

You swallowed thickly, “Sir, you aren’t in your right mind right now.”

Your boss, the man who you’ve seen reduce grown men and women to tears, whimpered.

“Please,” he was full on sobbing now, but his hips remained unrelenting. Continuously grinding into your thigh searching for relief. “I need it. I need you.”

Heat pooled into your stomach at the desperation bleeding into his words.

“Okay,” you relented. You just hoped that you wouldn’t be the one to regret this.

That was all he needed.

There was no time for grace and finesse. He hiked up your skirt, pulled your panties to the side and thrusted into you.

“Thank you,” he whined in relief as his thick cock speared your swollen pussy. He set a brutal pace, fucking into you with wild abandon. With no care about the ethical codes you were violating or the dozens of employees right outside the door.

Sharp pain melded with molten hot pleasure. You bit down on your lip in a desperate attempt to keep you noises down. You were failing epically. The harsh thrust of his hips punctuated by the tell tale thump of you bodies hitting the wall. Your whines, his desperate growls, the squelch of your wet sex all melded together in a debauched song of primal fucking. There’s no way nobody knows what you two are doing.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Your mind grew increasingly obsessed with the fullness, blocking out any rational thought. You focused only on the orgasm you were rapidly careening towards. You reached the crest of pleasure with a broken sob. Pussy spasming around his cock, your vision whited out at the force of your orgasm

On a whim you reached up and gripped both of his long, snowy white ears and pulled. He snarled, throwing his head back as he pumped you full of his hot seed.

“You’re definitely getting a raise. If we both still have jobs, that is.”

[solarmorrigan]

[cw: weight loss, body image issues/body dysmorphia]

Consider: Steve whose migraines become unmanageable for a while, or who falls into a harsh depressive episode after everything with Vecna, or who experiences reduced mobility or chronic pain due to the many varied injuries he's picked up over the years, or any combination of the above

Steve who loses his appetite and who isn't able to keep up with the workout routine he used to have and who loses weight and loses muscle mass and fucking hates it

He's always been on the lean side, but he hasn't been skinny since probably eighth grade, when he was still gawky and growing into his frame. But this is different; this isn't awkward adolescence, something he'll grow out of, this is the sight of his ribs through his skin and his hipbones jutting out and his wrists getting too skinny for his watch. This is feeling cold all the time and struggling to lift things he used to be able to pick up without much trouble

(It's fear, too. Not just a fear that he'll never get back to where he used to be, but fear that something will happen and he'll be too weak to stop it. Too weak to help. Too weak to protect anyone the way he should)

There are days he can't quite stand looking at himself; can't stand the sight of baggy clothes that used to fit perfectly, can't stand looking at tired eyes staring out of the sharpened angles of his face. He feels insubstantial this way. Like anyone could look right past him - right through him

Eddie never does, though. He never treats Steve differently, except to worry about his health - but never what he looks like. He hugs Steve as tightly as before, kisses him just as hard as before, whistles at him when he catches Steve in the middle of dressing, just like before. Like he isn't disappointed that Steve doesn't look good anymore, like he isn't even bothered

He'll hold Steve, and pull him close on bad days, and he'll let Steve be upset, but he'll never stand for Steve speaking badly about himself. He'll always push back, sometimes gently, sometimes loudly, always reminding Steve that he loves him, and what he looks like is a part of that. Reminding him that Eddie loves it all

"But you can gain it back, if you want to. When you're doing better," Eddie tells him

"What if I'm never doing better? What if I can never get back to where I was?" Steve demands. "What if this is just my body now?"

"Then it is." Eddie kisses his shoulder, his neck, his cheek. "Then I'll help you learn how to love it as much as you did before. As much as I still do."

And he says it so openly, so honestly, that even on bad days, Steve thinks that maybe - maybe he could be okay

[jennifer-jeong]

Smut | Sylus x AFAB!Reader First Impressions

SUMMARY Your first impressions of Sylus and how they translate into the more… intimate parts of your relationship.

CONTENT NSFW, smut, hard kinks, BDSM themes, size kink, impact play, spanking, vaginal penetration, doggy, missionary, choking, clit play, creampie, m and f orgasm, I WANT HIS STYLUS 😼, he’s secretly very in love with you idk, ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+

AUTHOUR NOTE I literally haven’t even downloaded the update yet because my phone has no storage LMFAOO so this is literally just my first impressions of him based off my Tumblr and Twitter timelines and the posts I’ve seen about him.

WORD COUNT: 789

Sylus wasn’t a man that understood restraint. While he understood how he would go about holding himself back, he always decided on disregarding it, especially when it came to you.

The man was the definition of domineering and he was always absolutely determined to wreck you.

Sadism was almost too light a word to describe him with how much he enjoyed drinking up your fear and uncertainty. You knew he was stronger and he always left you unsure of what he’d do next or if it was going to hurt.

When he tries to bully his thick member into you for the first time, he can’t help but let the way you whine “ah! H-hurts” make him twitch at the entrance of you.

Despite your protests, time and time again your body betrays you, showing him how bad you want him by gushing all over him. Helping him slide into you as he stretches you to his size. Your body genuinely couldn’t take his size before but it’s actually gotten easier overtime as if you were genuinely being molded by him. The thought of it made you dizzy.

He absolutely loves fucking you in doggy and spanking you until your skin burns, turning bright red. While you weren’t one to shy away from the dull stinging, he always took it a few slaps too far. He knew when it would actually start to hurt for you and when the skin would get too sensitive, and he’d push you past that point with 3 harsh slaps before rubbing his hands over the area to soothe you.

When he fucks you in missionary though, he’s a whole other monster. In this angle he can barely bottom out in you so he’s genuinely bruising your cervix with every rough thrust.

Of course he checks on you after and gives you good aftercare, but in the heat of the moment, he most definitely bullies you. He slaps at your pretty tits, pinching your nipples and pulling up before letting them recoil as you yelp at the pain.

When he chokes you he does it with his left hand so his right hand can slap at your pretty tear stained face while he whispers the nastiest things to you while holding intoxicating eye contact.

“Such a fucking slut hm?” slap “y’like it when I slap you don’t you,” slap “so fucking filthy” he says with a chuckle “just for me” he adds as he kisses you.

When both of you start to reach your highs, he’s definitely squeezing your neck harder. He presses expertly on your arteries to reduce the blood flow to your brain, starving it of oxygen. It makes your eyes roll back and tongue loll out ever so slightly.

He does it because he knows it fucks with your senses. All you can hear is your heartbeat in your ears as the wet sounds of skin slapping fade out. Your vision gets hazy and spotty, and Sylus’s favorite part: your pussy gets slightly less sensitive. Your brain can’t register all the signals while it’s fighting to keep you conscious. He does it often to deny you your orgasm.

But he also does it so he can catch up to you, it’ll take a while for him to admit it but he absolutely adores finishing with you. Loves feeling your walls milk him in waves as your body racks with shivers. He also loves hearing your voice and how shameless your moans become when you become undone.

So when he’s close, he fully lets go of your neck and instead sits up to ram straight into your g spot and thumb at your neglected clit.

As you feel blood flow into your brain, you also feel the intensity of your pleasure ramp up over the course of 2 seconds before it crashes down on you and you cum so fucking hard each time he does this.

He loves the way your back arches and how your hands grip the sheets for dear life as you cum. You also have a habit of squeezing your eyes shut when it hits you and he finds it kinda cute. But in the moment, he’s usually too far gone to be thinking about if you’re cute or not. You squeeze him so sinfully when you cum and you gush with arousal, making it feel absolutely amazing for him as he stuffs you with his own release.

When he cums it’s also one of the only times you’ll hear him actually moan. He’ll let out grunts and quiet moans but when he finishes in your gummy walls he can’t help but let you know how good you feel. It’s his way of saying “I love you” as he collapses onto you, holding you and breathing into your ear.

|| MASTERLIST ♡ || Thank you for reading! ||

[cherryredstars]

Hi cherry!

I've been trying to send you this and overthinking about it for a while because I'm very shy to ask, and the thought of you ignoring it eats me up..

Could you please write about dadbod Miguel in his wedding night with fem reader; trying to fit his fat dick in her, but it just won't, and she's very shy about it?

You can end it however you like bc I don't have any idea tbh

Thanks! ♥︎

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Fingering, Penetrative Sex

A/N: Here you are, love!

Unedited

The silk and lace are long forgotten.

It’s a layered pile of pure white, an obscure amount of money reduced to pesky fabric on a hotel floor. It’s vastly unimportant in the face of Miguel’s flaming touch on your skin, engulfing every inch of exposed flesh.

Your body arches, soft gasps spilling from your lips as he trails kisses along your neck, his hands finding the wetness between your thighs. He fits perfectly against you: his head resting comfortably in the space where your neck and shoulder meet, the pudge of his stomach resting against your own, his fingers just thick enough to press over your clit entirely and stretch your entrance, his hand holding yours and causing your matching rings to clink together.

The only thing that won’t fit is his dick.

You whimper as he continues to stretch you out, fighting through the past few orgasms. But no matter how wet you are or how many fingers he squeezes into your warm heat, he finds that it’s not nearly enough. Every attempt he makes at slipping into you, he’s met with a persistent resistance that refuses to give before he can fit himself fully inside.

“M-Miggy,” you hiccup, squeezing his hand tight, “It’s not gonna-”

Miguel grunts, trying to thrust forward, only to apologize hurriedly when you sob at the pain. Your walls clamp sharply around him, warning that there is no where else to go. It causes him to hiss, eyes closing in bliss before he pulls back slightly and back in. You let out a watery moan, your other hand coming to his back.

“It’s okay, mi vida,” Miguel murmurs into your skin, leaning down to kiss at the tears running down your flaming cheeks. “I promise I’ll still make it feel good.”

You choke on your next hiccup as he slowly thrusts into you as far as he can go, stretching you wide and adjusting your position to be flush with the rest of his body.

“Not gonna stop me from showing how much I love m’wife.”

At the reassurance and the pleasurable thrusting, you find all your worries start to disappear. Everything begins to fade, and you’re reminded of why you married this man. You love him. You love him, you love him, you love him.

And you fit together in all the ways that matter.

[grimmweepers]

𝐏𝐄𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘: OCT 10TH

— ♤ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: fyodor dostoyevsky x gn!reader | 𝐜𝐰: oral!giving, messy blowjob, deepthroat, dubcon, he’s kind of mean, facial, bruise mention, no aftercare, established relationship, very little dialogue for reader, dom/sub dynamics, tail, collar, a leash, cat ears, the lot! 1.6k wc, 18+ only, MDNI.

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Fyodor loved the idea of reducing you to something less than human. 

Seated high and comfortably in his chair, he delighted in the sight of you crawling naked at his feet. Cat ears were perched on your head and nestled in your ass was a thick tail that twitched with each sway of your hips. Your collar was snug around your neck and in the centre, hung a small tag that simply read: RETURN TO DOSTOYEVSKY.

Kneeling there, perfectly trained, you watched him lure you in with his bedroom eyes. You weren’t sure if this was him giving permission to begin but he didn’t stop you when you leaned down on all fours.

Fyodor didn’t indulge in many things, but seeing you switch into this dumb headspace where your only purpose was to be domesticated—or rather kept for enjoyment—was something he could always get behind.

“Ah-ah, not too fast,” he said in a condescending tone as he tugged at your leash, pulling you closer between his legs. The soft fur of your tail brushed against your thigh as you shifted position. 

After five—no, ten minutes of slathering your mouth around his cock, Fyodor found amusement in the way your legs were already trembling beneath you, struggling to hold yourself steady. His eyes became fixed on your cheeks hollowing as you bobbed up and down his length, fat tears streaming down your face while you obediently adjusted to a slower, more deliberate pace.

You took him as deep as you could which only muffled any chance of coherency.

“Mmm, that’s better,” he cooed.

You whimpered around him as he gave you an appreciative pat on the head. When you leaned into his touch, his lips bore the slightest grin, humoured by how willing you were to please him.

He lazily trailed his fingers down your jaw before his thumb brushed the little bell on your collar, flicking it lightly to hear its delicate chime,

“See? You get what you want when you listen.”

His thick shaft was lodged too deep in your throat for a response, but there was no point. The painful ache in your jaw was your own doing, a consequence of following him around and nagging him for attention when he was far too focused on his latest scheme.

Nagging never worked. But having you like this? On your knees, gagging on his cock? That always did it.

You took him inch by inch until the tip of your nose brushed against the dark patch of hair at his base. A quiet huff escaped him, barely audible, but it sent a rush of relief through you. 

Slowly but surely, Fyodor was beginning to unravel, which only spurred you on. You needed to see him lose his composure, otherwise what would be your purpose in all this?

So you flattened your tongue against the underside of his cock, tracing every vein with wet, sloppy strokes before swirling it around his sensitive tip. Over and over. 

You repeated the motion, causing him to shiver slightly after every stroke.

One point for you. 

Occasionally, you’d drag your tongue away from his cock, pressing open-mouthed kisses along his inner thigh, tasting the salt and sweat on his skin. The thick scent of his musk and arousal made you dizzy. Delirious, even.

You softly hummed around his length as you resumed putting your mouth to work and felt a shudder ripple throughout his entire body, his thighs tensing beneath your palm. The room filled with obscene sounds of your lips sloppily sucking and swallowing his cock. Spit dribbled down your chin and pooled in your lap, mixing with your own arousal.

The glow from his monitors bathed your tears with an otherworldly purple light. When you looked like this, it always justified his decision to keep you in this state.

He could see you were just as turned on by all this from how often your legs would quiver whenever he elicited a sound. Your hand even dared to slip between your thighs to take care of that ache but you knew better than to touch yourself without his permission. The tail buried inside you sent small, rippling jolts of pleasure that you had to ignore, lest you anger him with your lack of focus.

You were so well-behaved that not even the pain from bruised knees could coax a complaint from your lips. So out of what he considered kindness, he gave you a small gesture, allowing you to pause.

“Breathe,” he said.

You released him with a wet pop, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet room. You panted softly, drool still coating your lips, and when you looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes, you saw a flicker of satisfaction on his face. 

Unfortunately, this brief moment of generosity was just that—a moment. Because Fyodor wasn’t done with you. 

With a sharp tug of your leash, he forced you back to his cock, “Now finish cleaning me up,” his voice was eerily warm for someone who had you shackled by the neck. 

The look he gave you was pitiful but you didn’t hesitate. You took him deep again, sucking him with renewed intensity. This time, when your lips reached his base, he took the opportunity to enjoy you fully, tilting his head back while his Adam’s apple bobbed at the feeling of your wet mouth clenching around him.

“You’re…” a drawn out, breathy moan escaped his chest, “…doing so well. How exquisite, you are.”

His grip on the leash got tighter, twisting the chain around his hand so he could buck repeatedly into your mouth. You could feel his fat tip prodding the back of your throat which made you gag and slurp again and again.

In. Out. In. Out.

It was filthy and rough and the bell around your neck jingled with each thrust. At this point, you weren't sure what you wanted more—his thick hot cum spluttering inside you or some damn air.

“Take it deeper,” he slurred, his body shuddering as your throat desperately stretched to accommodate his length, struggling to keep up with his ruthless pace

You were a mess of spit and tears and he ogled every time it would disappear behind your poor little, beaten lips.

"You can do it," he said—but this was far from encouragement.

He was taunting you, just another attempt to bully one more helpless gag out of you. And he observed you as he pounded your mouth, you felt his balls lewdly slap your chin.

“Want it, kitten?” Your vision was blurred by your tears but you blinked up at him anyway. Yes, yes, yes. Please!

“Think you’ve been good enough?” His voice lowered but it was laced with urgency.

He wanted to finish and you craved for him to finish in you.

You slurped around him, breathing through your nose while his cock impossibly stiffened and ached. After a deep breath, you took the entire thing in one go and held it at the base.

“God…” he hissed through clenched teeth.

The last thing you heard was a long grunt when he finally came. His hips jerked forward in one final thrust, forcing himself deep into your throat before pulling out, his hand pumping himself as hot ropes of cum splattered across your face.

The first burst hit your lips, the second painted your cheeks, and the third dripped down to your chest, each twitch of his cock sending more cum spilling across your skin. The broken whimper that followed was strangled and raw, enough to make you shudder.

Giving himself to you like this wasn’t a common occurrence so he always came so much, and seeing his face twisted in pleasure like this almost had you cumming untouched.

Sometimes he missed finishing inside you, to have the warmth of your walls squelching around him as he drained his balls, all while you struggled to take it—but dirtying you up was another form of entertainment in itself.

He leaned back on his chair, chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. Admiring you through half-lidded eyes, he was pleased with the mess he left on your face.

“Such diligence,” he muttered as he used the still-throbbing tip of cock to smear his seed across your cheek, making sure to cover every spot he might have missed, “What a pretty, impure little sight you are.”

You remained on your knees, staring up at him through the sticky mess, sheepishly waiting for the next unpredictable thing he had up his sleeves. The air between you was hot, and you ached to be touched—to be praised again. Your body burned for it but Fyodor wasn’t in any hurry.

With languid motion, he dragged your leash back between his legs, the chain clattering as he did. “You missed a spot,” he pointed out.

Without hesitation, you carefully lapped up the remnants of his seed from his softening length. Another strangled moan poured from his lips, the aftershock of his orgasm still making him tense in your mouth.

When you were done, you licked your lips clean of any lingering mess. His eyes were sharp as they met yours and for a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of your breathing.

“You’ve done well,” he finally said. “But don’t think for a second that we’re finished.”

Fyodor stood up, letting out one last sigh before savouring the picture of your naked, cum-streaked body. With an unreadable expression on his face, he towered over you as he adjusted his pants. There was an air of finality around him as he looked down at you.

“Stay like that,” he didn't bat an eye as he sat back down, swiveling his chair back to his desk, “We’ll continue later.”

“Yes, Fedya,” you hoarsely responded after what felt like a lifetime. Hearing his words made you gulp, you almost forgot you had a voice after he had just abused your throat.

As he resumed his work, you stayed in place, a silent, obedient pet at his feet, knowing that this was only the tip of the iceberg.

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform

dividers: @/astrumaur