#makes you Uncomfortable? does that make your skin crawl? does that make you feel Guilty? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lowgothree · 3 months

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007. ༺ASUNDER༻∘

a/n: okay no one yell at me for this chapter...

summary: after getting unexpectedly left by your roommate, you find yourself in need of a replacement.

contents: reader is kinda going through it, lmao. paige is still stupid. kinda angsty.

previous. next. masterlist.

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what’s more uncomfortable than waking up to a cold bed? especially when it was warm before you fell asleep?

…no, seriously. what?

you pull yourself out of bed, groaning and feeling stupid. you fell asleep on her and she left. slipping on your house shoes, you shuffle out of your room. you walk past paige’s room, doors open and it’s empty.

holy shit, were you snoring or something?

you grab your phone, noticing the time. it’s early. paige doesn’t wake up early on weekends if she doesn’t have to. she especially doesn’t leave the house early on a weekend if she doesn’t have to.

you walk into the living, looking for any signs of paige in the quiet of your shared apartment. there are none.

maybe you kick in your sleep.

you don’t have to let your mind wander for too long before she’s waltzing in through the door, guilt ridden. she doesn’t meet your eyes and you can feel it — that abhorrent feeling that crawls underneath your skin, you can barely stomach it. it’s over.

she meets you halfway and calls you by your name. your name. it makes your palms sweat. she hasn’t said your name since that night on the couch. but she says it now almost like it’s a mutual secret, it’s filled to the brim with shame. she says it again and the sentence that follows it is torturess.

“olivia texted me.”

immediately your whole mood switches. like going from hot to cold. you feel it all over and it’s all consuming. those three words are playing over and over and over again in your head. olivia. texted. me.

“i need closure. i hate how we left things.”

she’s apologetic and it makes you sick. she speaks carefully, as though she’s softly shutting the door on an active massacre. you can’t help but roll your eyes. maybe you should’ve expected this. okay, you definitely should’ve expected this…but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

somehow, you wish she wasn’t looking at you so guilty. it would make it easier to stomach if she didn’t feel anything for you at all. but she does. you know she does. you can see it in her eyes when she looks at you, you can feel it on her palms when they touch you, you can hear it in her voice when she calls you baby. she just won’t admit it. and that hurts way worse. you were enough for her to care for but not enough for it to matter.

so what was the point in arguing or faking content? you’d like to think she knew you well enough to catch you in your lie anyway. so you don’t. you acquiesce.

“good for you.” is all you say before turning on your heels and walking back to your bedroom.

you can hear her, hot on your tail as she lets herself into your bedroom. she steps into your space like she owned it all and that only frustrated you more.

“good for me?” she scoffs, it’s disbelieving and angry. she’s angry at you? you can only marvel at the audacity and it fuels your own distaste even more –– what once was smoke of annoyance is now a blazing fire of anger. “that’s it?”

“what do you want from me? do you want me to cry?”

she flinches at the harshness in your tone but stands her ground despite herself. “i don’t know i just expected you to be more — ” heartbroken. “understanding.”

“how much more understanding could i be? it’s not like we were together or anything, you don’t need my permission to run back to her.” the words are uncomfortable on your tongue and it almost chokes you to speak them.

“i’m not running.”

you just stare at her, trying hard to force yourself not to care about the fact that this is really over. you knew the day would come but you weren’t ready. you aren’t ready.

“just get out of my room, paige.”

and she does with a silent nod of acknowledgment. it kills you again and your eulogy is seconds long, it is the sound of your bedroom door closing.

it’s hard to ignore someone you live with. desperately humbling. you learn their schedule just so you know when you’re free to make yourself a sandwich. the living has become somewhat of an abandoned space as you and paige seem to avoid each other like some sort of disease.

sean, always caring, saw how quickly you were shutting down. you claimed you were only trying to process your emotions but he knew you better than that.

“yeah, no…you’re not doing this.” sean pulled you out of bed before you could start rotting there. “come on, we’re going out. we can get food, see a movie…whatever but i’m not letting you sit here depressed.”

and he didn’t, you’ve been spending practically everyday with sean for the past two weeks.

“you’re just going through the stages of grief right now.” he mumbles at you when you’re crying because you miss her. because you fell for her, hard and fast. because she left you before you had a way to land safely.

“she didn’t die.” you sniffle and it makes sean laugh.

“you’re annoying, you know what i mean.”

and that made you smile, albeit small, but there. you wiped your tears and looked at sean, speaking in an almost defeated tone. “i think i really love her…” is all you say and it’s all you need to say. the two of you sitting in silence for a while before sean starts to take your mind of things.

like going to a concert, which was sean’s suggestion. “yeah my roommate and his boyfriend were gonna go but they’re both sick as shit so he just gave me the tickets…”

“no way…”

“yes way…” you can’t contain your excitement as you hug your friend and he shares your smile.

later that night you and sean go to the concert. by the time it’s over, your voice is sore from singing all night.

“i know this is super shitty but i’m so happy my roommate is sick.” sean sighs happily as both walk out of the building and head to the parking lot.

“seriously.” you smile. “we have to go to another concert soon.”

“don’t worry, i’ll cough on all my roommates things. he’s got a weak immune system.”

“gross, sean.” you laugh anyway before you feel someone bump into you, the collision strong and sudden so much so that it almost knocks you off your feet.

“shit –– sorry.”

you freeze, the voice is familiar. you turn around to confirm your suspicion and sure enough. “ellie?”

“oh hey…” she smiles shyly at you. “it’s been a minute.”

“yeah…” you chuckle lightly, noticing the way she eyes you up and down. “how have you been?”

“no, yeah…i’ve been good.” her voice is low and raspy, just like it used to be. “i, um, i got that car i wanted so…”

“wow…new car and a concert? where’d you get the money for that?” you tease, remembering how terrible of a saver ellie was.

“dude, i actually saved for it.” she nods, looking proud of herself.

“are you sure you’re ellie?”

“seriously, i mean…it was hard but i did it and it paid off.”

you smile. “well, i’m proud.”

“thank you, thank you.” she puts a had to her chest, the sounds of cars driving and people talking and laughing fill the night air as she stands in silence for a while. just staring at you. she looks in your eyes then at your lips then she meets your eyes again. no fucking way she just did the triangle method.

you give sean a look and his eyes widen. “hey, it’s cold as shit. i’m gonna go to the car, just let me know when yall are done and i’ll swing back for you.”

you go to nod but ellie speaks before you can. “no, worries, dude. i’ll get her home safe.”

sean looks at ellie and then back at you. you open up your mouth to speak, to say that it’s fine and ellie doesn’t have to take you home but sean stops you. “yeah, that’s a good idea. just text me?” he winks at you.

your jaw drops slightly as sean walks away. ellie smiles at you and you smile back shyly. “you know…i’ve been thinking about us.”

us? as in you and her? your mouth opens and shuts before you clear your throat and reply. “have you?”

“yeah…” she makes her voice slightly deeper, she’s flirting. “let me take you home…”

you pause, home? where paige is? no thank you…

“i, uh…i’m kinda arguing with my roommate right now.” you sigh, a half truth. “i’ve been staying with sean.”

“no shit, that sucks…” she bites her lip, shifting awkwardly on her feet before she clears her throat. “you can stay with me tonight.”

it’s an invitation. oh, okay. your thoughts of paige not fully subsiding but they’re muted. you know sean hasn’t left yet, he’ll be waiting to see if you text him to swing back for you. you could deny her. you should deny her. but you hesitate. maybe it’s because you missed the attention or maybe you were just tired of feeling so stuck on someone who didn’t care enough for you. maybe part of you wanted to get over paige and felt like this was the only way.

so you don’t deny the offer. you accept with a warm smile. “yeah, i’d like that…”

#rock the boat!#paige bueckers x reader

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thefishermansharbor · 1 year

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Poisonous Jealousy,

The Arcana x GN!Reader

Synopsis: Headcanons about Lucio, Asra, and Portia feeling jealous of how their partner acts with someone.

Asra Alnazar:

Unlike how the rest of his personality is, Asra gets jealous easily and often. He can’t help his possessiveness, so he doesn’t act on it often. He’s good at containing himself.

Asra feels a big deal of guilt for all of his envy, and whether you mind or not, he worries it’ll make you feel uncomfortable or controlled.

He respects you and trusts you to not cheat on him but still he can’t help but overthink a bit before ultimately intercepting.

Still feels guilty about it even if you say he was doing you a favor.

You smile warmly at the shopper. “ Let me know if I can help you find anything, sweetie!”

Asra knew that this wasn’t special, and that you called everyone nicknames – but the way the stranger seemed to enjoy it got under his skin. He couldn’t help but curl his hands into fists as he watched the stranger’s expression twitch into a smirk.

The stranger had a likeness to your lover, except the stranger was taller, and had a mischievous feeling to him. The man spoke,

“ I was just wondering what time you got off work.”

Asra knows you’d never ever cheat on him, but his blood boils. There’s a slim slick feeling in the back of his mind as he watches the stranger inch closer to you. He can’t help himself but intervene.

He walks right in between you and the man, throwing his arm over your shoulder and giving your cheek a quick kiss. The man rolls his eyes, suddenly moving backwards.

“ I’m sorry to say that my PARTNER here will be busy with me after their shift. Maybe another time.” Asra offers the man a polite smile, but under it he’s practically seething with disgust for the stranger.

The man shakes his head in distaste, a little humiliated. “ – yeah whatever, I wasn’t that interested in you anyways.” He leaves the drapey magic shop, Asra’s grip on you only tightening while the man walks out.

“ What was that about?” You ask.

“ Sorry, I really didn’t like how close he was getting. I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable.” In part, this statement is true.. But the bigger reason behind it was to satisfy that possessiveness that had been crawling around in the back of his mind. You shrug, and he kisses you quickly. He trusts you.

Portia Devorak:

She doesn’t get jealous at all. Actually, she prides herself on the trust she has for you. She lets almost anything slide, as long as the person she’s jealous of isn’t physically or emotionally hurting you.

But if it’s a particularly bad day and someone is really bothering her - she’ll try to one-up them in some shape or form. They’re talking about how good they are at darts? She’s better and she’ll prove she is.

She also does something nice for you, to prove that she’s the better lover than whoever the other person is.

She’s passive aggressive because she doesn’t want to be outright rude to another person for the reason being only that they were hitting on you.

One of the other pirates was bragging to you about his exceptional axe-throwing skill. From what Portia could see, you were interested in the conversation and were happy to hear it.

Portia smiled, she was so glad you were bonding with the ship crew. But then again, she couldn’t help this inkling of a feeling. Was she jealous? No, no.. she trusted you. She just couldn’t help but think about it. The other pirate was your type, and was far more reliable than the mischievous Portia.

She runs the situation over in her head - she was pretty good at axe - throwing, and she could probably take him in a competition.. She walked over and sat down next to the two of you.

“ Hi my love! What’re you guys up to?” She said excitedly. You began to speak, but the pirate cut you off.

“ I was just telling this beauty,” He winked at you, “ about my expertise.” Portia nodded, her hand taking yours and squeezing it gently. “ – how great!” She smiled so wide it could’ve been a frown.

“ What are you an expert on, then?” She asks.

“ Ax - throwing.” He said proudly, crossing his arms. Portia’s eyes narrowed, still holding that forced smile. “ GREAT. Just GREAT. Should we do a bit of that, then?”

“ That's maybe not the safest idea.” You offer sheepishly. The tension in the area pooling, Portia looks at you.

“ you’re right. Do I ever tell you how smart you are, my love? You’re just brilliant!” She says loudly. The other pirate seemed to be starting to get the hint now. But Portia kept going,

“ You’re also a brilliant kisser. You’re so sweet to me, you’re the best partner I could ask for.” She exclaims, extra sweetly. The other pirate seems a little unsure of himself now, his eyes running around the room.

“ – so, back to you.” Portia said finally, looking back at the other pirate. He stands and brushes himself off, “ well, maybe I should uh.. Leave you two for a moment.”

She nods, and waits for him to leave before kissing you. She felt like a winner when she did that, as if it was some sort of ‘ impress my lover! ‘ challenge that she had won.

Lucio Morgasson:

Will laugh it off at first. But if that person makes you uncomfortable - god forbid, he will cause a scene.

This grown man will do literally ANYTHING to get whoever was hitting on you to leave you alone. I kid you not, this grown man will bark at someone in order for them to get away from you.

He loves you and would do whatever needed to protect you or your honor, but also a bit of his own pride and jealousy can get in the way when he tries to intercept anyone trying to romance you in front of him.

Lucio accepts that you wouldn’t two-time him, but he wouldn’t mind showing off in front of you. He likes it when you’re proud of him.

You were at one of Lucio’s famously good parties. Everyone was happy and excited, dancing and twirling. You were talking to a foreign diplomat, drink in hand.

She smiled widely at you. Most of your conversation was about Vesuvia, but it started to edge onto a bit of flirting..

“ I knew Vesuvia to be the home of marvelous talent, but I didn’t know it was such a hotspot for gorgeous people like yourself,” She smiled, twirling her hair and being extra sweet with you. Lucio had been partying loudly and proudly like he always does, when he caught sight of you being a little too friendly with one of the guests.

He walked over, he thought it was a hilarious and desperate attempt from the diplomat to secure some false friendship. He chuckled to himself, she couldn’t possibly be serious… but then she was.

She was raving to you about how spectacular of a conversation partner you were, and Lucio felt.. Embarrassed? Were you liking it? Would she be better than him for you? Before his thoughts can cloud him, he walks over and smirks at the both of you.

“ How’s the party going?” He asks you. You smile and speak, “ I’m just chatting around, meet my friend, she’s very sweet–” Lucio’s temper breaks, and he takes a deep breath.

He picks you up. Completely up, as if you weigh nothing. “ I LOVE YOU!” He then shouts. A couple guests look over at you three, but most shove it off and go back to whatever they were doing.

The diplomat just sort of stares, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly. She doesn’t know what to make of this, so she goes quiet. Lucio then carefully places you down, and glares at her.

“ .. sooo, your name?” He says almost bitterly. She stutters out a response, but it’s unintelligible and really quiet. After a few more minutes of awkward silence, the diplomat walks off defeatedly. Lucio grins, he thinks to himself, that’s a job well done.

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aninklingof · 1 year

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A Little Bit of Tickles

Day 3 of @rxsahgrce ‘s Sapnap tickle week! Today’s prompt is age regression! Really hoping that writing this doesn’t make me slip 😅

Lee! Dream Ler! Sapnap (CC!)

Warnings: age regression ✨strictly platonic!✨

Enjoy!

~~~~~

“Sappy….?” Dream’s unusually high pitched and slightly whiny voice asked from the doorway into Sapnap’s room.

He was on call with Karl and Quackity just messing around on the SMP server when he heard the older, turning to see him shyly looking at the ground. He could tell from the way Dream fiddled with his sleeves and shifted uncomfortably that something was bothering him.

“I’ll call you later guys, see ya.” Sapnap said to the two men over discord before leaving the call and closing Minecraft. “What’s up Dream?”

The blonde seemed to shrink in on himself slightly. “Am lil… an’ sad..”

The ravenhead softened immediately and stood from his office chair. “Let’s go to your room bud.”

It wasn’t often that Dream regressed, at least not noticeably. Sure he would stim or stutter during recordings sometimes, usually he’d be around the age of 7 or 8 when he did and would be able to mask it well enough that he just sounded hyper.

However on rare occasions the tall man would regress to around 4 years old, and most times when he did he’d feel guilty and upset about it. This was one of those times.

“What’s going on Dreamie?” Sapnap asked once the two of them had settled on Dream’s bed together.

“Was lonely… felt bad ‘bout bein’ small,” Dream admitted bashfully.

“Do you remember what we’ve said about feeling bad?”

“I shouldn’t feel bad cuz I did nothin’ wrong..?”

“That’s right bud, good job,” Sapnap praised gently, causing him to smile and hide his face behind sweater paws. “Naww, don’t hide that precious smile! C’mere Dreamie.”

Dream complied and crawled over the bed to lay in curled up the ravenhead’s lap. He gave the man a tight squeeze which he happily reciprocated.

“Hey buddy, can you look at my eyes?” Sapnap asked. Dream lifted his head and green eyes met hazel. “Do you want tickles to cheer you up?”

Dream squeaked and hid his slowly reddening face but nodded quickly. The younger man smiled fondly and lifted his friend’s hoodie to his lower ribs, exposing the paled freckled skin of his tummy.

“Soft or rough bud?”

“Soft please,” Dream muttered behind his hands, squirming in anticipation with excitement glittering in his eyes.

“Of course.” With that Sapnap began to trace gently around the blonde’s tummy, just grazing the skin with the pads of his fingertips.

“Ehehehehee! S-sahahappyyyy!” Dream squealed as giggles as pure as holy water poured from his lips.

Sapnap smiled. “Does it tickle buddy?”

Dream nodded enthusiastically. “Tihihihickles alohohohot!”

“That’s good, I was wondering why you were giggling so much!” The Texan wiggled his fingers on the man’s sides, his touch still featherlight. Despite this Dream still squealed loudly.

“Sahahahahappy!! Slohohohower plehehease!”

Sapnap obeyed and started his slow tracing once again, Dream falling back into breathy giggles. They continued like this for a few minutes, Dream giggling his heart out and Sapnap watching fondly.

Eventually Dream spoke up again. “Sahahahappy?”

“Yes pumpkin?” The ravenhead answered, slowing his fingers to a stop.

“Cahahan wehe lahahay dohown an’ yohou t-tihihickle my neheck..?”

“Of course.” Sapnap shifted they both laid on their sides, Dream curled up to his chest. His hands lifted and began to play with the hair at the nape of his neck, wiggling lightly down his shoulders, under his chin, over his cheeks, and back again.

Dream’s soft and sleepy giggles filled the room, slowly growing quieter until the man was sleeping soundly. Sapnap pressed a kiss to his forehead before he too drifted into a light slumber.

~~~~~

#rxsahgrce’s tword sapnap week #lee! dream #ler! sapnap #dsmp tickle #tickle fics #dsmp #sfw tickle community #age regression #little dream #Seans tickle fics

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upside-down-sock-drawer · 6 months

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Okay so nobody needs to care about this post but there's a thing that I just wanna talk about and it's something I went through and I wanted an outlet to share it. It's not really triggering but it could be kind of uncomfortable so if toxic relationships bother you, read with caution.

This time last year, I was in a really toxic relationship. He pressured me into a lot of things, and even though I knew there were red flags, I ignored them. Even I don't know why.

In middle school we had to watch these videos explaining toxic relationships now. They said that when you're in one, you often don't notice just how toxic it is. I said "Well that's crazy, if things were bad I would notice right away!"

I didn't.

He made me feel bad about my own feelings. My discomforts and boundaries were annoyances to him. He was so touchy, all the time. Even after I told him to stop.

It never went beyond touching, thank god. I think that's part of why I never did anything about it. Sure, he made some comments I didn't like, and his friends were weird and gross and he never stopped them, but he'd never go that far. And besides, he was nice to me.

I always felt bad for being uncomfortable around him. He should have been what I considered a picture-perfect boyfriend. He bought me gifts, he told me I'm pretty, hell he even wrote me a song. How do I feel uncomfortable in the face of all of that? Why does my skin crawl every time he touches me? What kind of person does that make me?

I lost feelings somewhere along the way. Sometimes I wonder if I even had them at all, and the feeling of all the emotions thrown at me had just worn off. I was confused. So confused, that I launched myself into a horrible spiral of feeling guilty about not feeling. I should have feelings for my boyfriend. I should want to do all these things with him. I thought that maybe I wasn't capable of emotion like most people were. Was something wrong with me?

I broke up with him a week later. It hurt to do, mostly because I knew it would hurt him. I was so confused, and I just needed a break. I cried when I did it. I found out from my friend that he cried later that night. I felt worse.

We still talked. I knew he still had feelings for me, from the way he looked at me. That confused me even more. I tried to talk about our feelings, but the funny thing is, feelings are hard to talk about when you're not even sure what they are.

We said we'd take a break to think everything over, and when we came back we'd talk again.

The break did nothing for me. I cried so much. I knew how strongly he felt for me, and that all he wanted was for me to feel that back. Why was it so hard to do that?

I cut him off entirely about two weeks later. I slowly drifted until the space was too big to cross. That was when I made some very big discoveries.

Every question that I had asked myself over those past months were red flags. Bright, crimson, raging red flags. Every thought I had with that mentality, was awful.

I want to say right now, to anyone who was in my position, or is currently in my position, that if you have to ask yourself why you can't be comfortable around someone, then you need to run. No one should ever be pressured into feeling or doing anything, and if someone tried, then they are not good for you!!!

Your feelings are your feelings, and if someone discredits them, then you should not have to feel anything for them.

That's my story, and that's what I learned. Stay safe out there friends <33

#my adventures in life things #here's my story guys #light tw for toxic relationships #stay safe friends <33

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witcher-and-his-bard-archive · 3 years

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Lay With Me

for @writinglizards <3

Jaskier can barely keep his eyes open. They've been walking for at least half a day with only a stop for lunch and Geralt may have inhuman stamina, but Jaskier does not. He stumbles over his feet and Geralt, to his credit, gives him a sympathetic look and slows Roach. Part of Jaskier is pleased about it, but another part wants to remind Geralt that he could just let him up there if he was really feeling sympathetic. There have been places to stay, but none with space for the both of them or willing to house a Witcher through the night. So Jaskier pushes on because he doesn't want Geralt sleeping out in the cold for him.

It's another couple of hours before they come across another town and Geralt immediately guides them toward the inn. He dismounts, leaving Roach tethered to the fence and Jaskier sighs. That's not a good sign. Jaskier follows Geralt up the steps and into the common room of the inn. It's unsurprisingly quiet for so late at night, but the innkeeper is still standing behind the counter.

He smiles when he sees them, but Jaskier can see the weariness behind his smile and he sympathizes.

"We need a room for the night, my companion is exhausted and the nights are cold." It's true, Jaskier thinks, but he'd rather sleep outside in the cold with Geralt than leave him outside on his own. More and more, that's looking like the only option.

"We've only got the one room," the innkeeper says solemnly, "just a single bed, I'm afraid."

"That's fine," Geralt says and for a second, Jaskier's heart leaps. They've never discussed sharing a bed, but now that the thought is there, it's all he can think about.

Geralt is warm and Jaskier always sleeps better when he's sleeping with someone. He likes the coziness of it, the warmth, the comfort of just being with someone even just for the night. And now that he's thinking about it, he's delighted to hurry up to their room and crawl into bed with Geralt. It's been a long time since he's shared a bed with someone and he's eager to get to bed as soon as possible. But as Geralt finishes talking to the innkeeper, Jaskier's hopes are dashed.

Geralt turns to him, smiling softly and hands him the key to the room.

"You take the room," he offers, "I've slept outside in worse weather than this."

"Geralt," Jaskier starts, but Geralt assures him he'll be fine, leaving no room for arguments as he turns back toward the door.

The innkeeper mumbles directions to the room and tells Jaskier he's turning in for the night. Jaskier nods quietly, but as he makes his way to the room, he's disappointed. He's thankful for Geralt offering him the room; after they've turned down so many, there's no reason for him to pay for a room now unless it's solely for Jaskier's benefit. He feels guilty about it, but the inn is warm and Jaskier doesn't want to discourage Geralt's generosity.

He goes up to the next floor and opens the door to a dimly lit room. He lets it shut quietly behind him and rests his things at the end of the bed before crossing to the fireplace. He's cold and tired, but his mind keeps going back to Geralt out in the cold alone. Maybe he's a Witcher, but that doesn't mean he's immune to the cold and it doesn't mean he shouldn't have nice things.

When the fire is lit, Jaskier crosses over the bed wishing he weren't so alone and trying not to think of Geralt out in the cold. He'd be so much happier, he thinks, if he would just come inside and curl up in bed with him. Jaskier climbs into bed, warm but unhappy and still worrying for Geralt. The sheets are soft, softer than he would have expected for an inn in the middle of nowhere, but maybe that's just because it's been so long since he's had a bed to sleep on.

Which only makes him sadder for Geralt. Without thinking, Jaskier throws the covers off himself and climbs out of bed again, wrapping the top blanket around himself before stumbling down the stairs and out into the cold. He knows Geralt well enough by now to know the kinds of places he likes to make camp and it doesn't take him long to find him.

When he does, Geralt jumps up and crosses over to him, rubbing his hands down Jaskier's arms.

"What are you doing?" he asks, frowning at him.

"Please come to bed," Jaskier breathes, "it's so cold out here and there's plenty of room in the bed for both of us."

It's a lie; the bed is large enough for one certainly, but not for the both of them to sleep side by side. Jaskier doesn't mind. He'd give up his own comfort for Geralt any day sync curling up with him hardly seems uncomfortable.

"I don't want to bother you," Geralt says and it's far more generous than he usually is, so Jaskier almost laughs.

"I assure you, you won't be. I sleep much better with a warm body next to me. Even with the fire, there's a chill in the room and I don't know that I'll sleep peacefully on my own." Geralt gives him a look and Jaskier pushes a little further. "You wouldn't want me to have a bad sleep now, would you?" and Geralt sighs.

Because as much as Geralt grumbles and groans about it, he really does take care of his companions, even if it's just ensuring Jaskier has somewhere warm and comfortable to sleep. Jaskier practically skips back to the inn with Geralt in tow, and they leave Roach at the stables, tucked into her own little stall, before heading back inside.

Jaskier can see the way Geralt relaxes a little in the warmth and he hates the fact that Geralt would have just let himself freeze out there in the grass. But he doesn't mention it. He herds him up to the room and when the door is locked and shut, Geralt strips out of his clothes and climbs into bed, though not without a little huff of complaint. Jaskier doesn't mind though, because when he slides into bed after him, the heat from Geralt's body radiates out and he shuts his eyes, basking in it.

He falls asleep rather quickly, without even getting to fully enjoy having Geralt in his bed, but he wakes only a little while later, to Geralt moving around in his sleep. A bad dream, he thinks, and he dreads to think what kind of nightmares plague a Witcher.

Curling closer, Jaskier slides a hand tentatively down his arm. When Geralt doesn't wake and doesn't complain, Jaskier slides an arm around him, bringing himself closer. With his chest pressed to Geralt's back he can smell the scent of his skin, the lingering scent of soap in his hair, and he smiles to himself. There aren't words to describe how much he loves Geralt or to dictate all the ways he loves him, but someday he'd like to try. Gently, he presses his nose against the back of Geralt's neck, placing a soft kiss there, and he shuts his eyes and falls asleep.

Jaskier doesn't wake again until morning, but when he does, there's a heavy weight against him. He'd dreamt about Geralt and at first, he assumes the feeling is a lingering remnant of the dream, but then there's a soft, contented sigh from behind him and he remembers.

A grin spreads across his face and he shifts slightly, revelling in all the places they're still touching, though they've switched places. Geralt is now wrapped around him, one arm slung low over his hips beneath the blankets and as Jaskier blinks awake, Geralt's fingers slip across his skin, running softly up his thigh.

"Good morning," Jaskier mumbles. He turns onto his back and Geralt shifts to look down at him, a soft smile on his face.

"Mm, good morning. Do you always talk in your sleep or just when you have someone in your bed?" Jaskier pulls back, frowning.

"I don't talk in my sleep."

"No? Then you were awake when you told me I smell nice? Or that you love me more than your lute?"

Jaskier's cheeks burn and he ducks forward, burying his face in Geralt's chest which, coincidentally, does smell nice. Geralt chuckles and pulls him closer, pressing his nose into his hair.

"D'you really love me more than your lute?" Geralt teases and Jaskier mumbles. "What was that?" Jaskier pulls back, staring up at him.

"Yeah," Jaskier whispers, pressing a hand to Geralt's chest. "I do."

"Oh." The smile fades from Geralt's face, replaced with a look of surprise, like somehow after all these years, he might still think Jaskier doesn't absolutely adore him.

"Geralt?" he asks softly, "why do you think I wanted you to come in last night?"

"Because it was cold."

"Because I didn't want you sleeping in the cold. Because I care about you, darling. Because I love you." Geralt looks stunned, so after a beat, Jaskier reaches up, brushing his fingers along his cheek. "More than my lute."

"That's… a lot," Geralt says like he doesn't quite believe him. Jaskier decides to spend the morning convincing him of it.

"Oh, my darling, you have no idea."

#bed sharing #geraskier #soft idiots #rex writes #the witcher

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kurimiaki · 3 years

Note

T, R, N and P with Diluc please?

the uncrowned king of mondstadt, diluc ragnvindr.

yandere alphabet via dear-yandere! revisions i made are flaky so. my bad wwwww

cw: dark content, physical abuse, kidnapping, confinement, claustrophobia, extremely unhealthy relationship.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Just because Diluc may be attending to business elsewhere, does not mean you are free from his heady grasp. Distant yet coddling; his attentiveness is a curse just as much as it can be a blessing. You’re never without security, that much is true. Dawn Winery is his eyes and ears, every single servant wrapped around his finger, wrapping around and constricting you. Self isolation could never be a possibility, not when Adelinde ushers you out of bed without a minute left to spare, always in such a hurry, as if wallowing in utter boredom for days on end is anything of importance. From the very beginning, Diluc had made it a point to ensure your physical health was a top priority to those surrounding you; strict itineraries have maids silently mourning over their packed workload. A plethora of duties— take you on brief walks outside the winery, never longer than 15 minutes, feed and serve meals delicately planned and catered to your health, eyes and ears constantly watching, watching, watching. They keep you like a dog on a leash, no matter how pampered. They do so dutifully. They must. Who could possibly decline such a hefty pay at the expense of silence?

It would be a blatant lie to say your physical health had declined any whilst under his... care, however, the same cannot be said for your mental well being. He can’t, despite how much he hates his inability to do so, prevent your tears. And by the archons, do you cry. Diluc is unable to approach you some days, those days when the illusion of normalcy and domestic living he works so hard to put up simply melts away, when you can do little more than curl in on yourself and wretch into your silk sheets with a litany of tears flush in your eyes. He wills himself to allow you the mercy of a few hours alone, albeit with check ups and that blatant discomfort of his when you wail at the slightest touch to your shoulder. Of course, it’s a different case entirely when such cries are symptom of punishment— whereas Diluc will weakly attempt to comfort you with softened eyes when you work yourself up, flaky and visibly uncomfortable, his resolution is unflinching and unwavering should you choose to act out of turn. Wail, sob, beg and beg for mercy, for forgiveness, his mask of nonchalance will stay firm.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

No. Diluc is understanding that the situation he has thrust you into may not be ideal, he anticipates a lack of reciprocation and overall resistance, but he feels absolutely no guilt. In his eyes, this is for the best, the world is much too cruel— who better than him to make that judgement for you? Even if you do prove yourself to be capable of taking care of yourself, (with Diluc himself to measure up to) this Darknight Hero will find every minute, minuscule little thing to prove you otherwise. Just about every one of your shortcomings Diluc will try and use to his advantage, to put himself in a better light. Who else is as capable as he is, who else can prove themselves worthy of your companionship, your devotion, in the ways that he has? The longer you stay in his grasp, not that the possibility of leaving will come otherwise, the more difficult it becomes to prove him wrong. He feeds you with the utmost care, keeps you healthy, entertains you should you need conversation or otherwise, and provides, provides, provides. There may be a lack of freedom on your end, but really, do you have much room to complain? Without him, you may very well be dead. He ensures that point is driven straight to your heart, however many times is necessary until you grow compliant.

His will and rationality is fully reasonable, in his mind, hence why his wishes to keep you by his side shall forever remain solid. Perhaps it is the idea of you keeping close to him that entraptures Diluc so entirely, for he is a distant admirer. He would be contented growing old and without your touch, merely sharing your company for as long as life allows. All the same, he wishes to swallow you whole, skin, blood, guts and tears, if only to keep you with him. It is selfish, but he tells himself that is something of which he is deserving. He must.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Diluc is nothing if not dedicated to his goals, a driven man in everything he sets his mind to. In order to maintain the position he thrives in, he is forever alert, forever adapting, prepared for any strenuous situation thrown his way. Should you push past a line you are never meant to cross, jab at him a tad too harshly, well... it’s not as if he gives no thought as to how to keep you in line. Rarely are you knowing enough of his inner workings to be able to push him past the point of no return, a point where even you, his dearest, are not spared from his wrath. Emphasis on rare, for he is wholly tolerant and gentle with you, to an extent. Any person has a breaking point, and Diluc, despite his detached disposition and stoic attitude, can only withstand so much. He bottles up so much to remain composed, after all. When he snaps, he is unable to hold himself back any longer.

He is not one to take pleasure from the suffering of others. Lest they truly deserve it, is what he’ll tell himself, to at the very least maintain the illusion of normalcy. Sway not from the path of righteousness, forget not the splendor of dawn. His mind is able to concoct the most horrific scenarios he could possibly put you through, for he does the same with his enemies. In a way, when you act out of turn, an instinctual part of him, cultivated after years spent at the whims of the dangerous and unknown, sees you as just that— an enemy. He doesn’t often choose the more unsavory methods to keeping you in line, ie: beating or threatening you with his vision, further keeping true to said threats should you continue. Diluc is wholly capable of restraining the urge to simply slap the snark off of your face (he had done so regardless, once or twice), and much prefers isolating you on his own terms, away from everyone and everything, even himself. It’s a small room, not even on par with that of your shared bedroom, much more similar to a closet or crawlspace.

A room, but a cage all the same. Splintered wood floors, dank cobblestone surrounds you and few cracks in the stone leaves room for bugs of all nature to crawl through, allows the elements to rain hell upon you should you end up locked up during the harsher months. A lone maid, not even Adelinde, the head, attends to you, sparing meek glances should you call out when she gently places a meal of one roll, a piece of meat, and a few shoddily cut slabs of potato. No begging and weeping and screaming you may do will soften Diluc into coming back for you- again, his resolve is akin to that of steel, his will forever unyielding. He decides when you are thoroughly broken in, and when it is time to hold you in kind, he shines through like that of The Darknight Hero the people proclaim him to be. In the end, what is necessary is that he shows you how much better off you are when with him. He’s much too possessive and to a point, coddling, to ever consider discarding you into the wild and at the whims of hilichurl camps and abyss mages alike.

His hold is firm and grounding. Had he always been able to hold you with such ease? Had he ever truly held you in kind, as he does now? He’s warm. A familiar, comforting scent of smoke and acidic wine fills your senses and him, oh, him. He had left you, left you alone, all alone, in that room, not even a room, all alone, and yet you can do little more than gag and writhe and latch onto him with pleas of his name whispered hoarsely— ‘Diluc, Diluc, Diluc’. A cry of your savior.

He can’t look at you, won’t look at you. Won’t give you the mercy, but he couldn’t be angry. Not anymore. He holds you tighter and so flush to himself, with a ferocity narly shown to anyone but you, not in kind, not with this passion. You smell of dust, a husk of yourself. Faintly of his sheets, faintly of iron, of vomit, of filth.

Fresh memories of your betrayal burn hot in his mind. He’s contradicting himself. He cannot relent. It comes out as a whisper, barely even heard to himself, and he curses his very soul the moment it passes his lips.

“Strive to do better. Lest you want your time there to increase tenfold.”

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

He can bear with defiance and unwillingness on your part, to an extent. He can anticipate as much, for he is not delusional enough to fool himself into thinking your relationship is even somewhat typical to that of a normal couple, no matter how much he wishes that to be the case. No, for the initial few weeks of your captivity (he’s always gotten so mad when you refer to him as such, a captor) Diluc allows you to lash and sob and attempt to reason with him, attempt to soften him, attempt to hurt him. He’ll allow you to do so, but he himself remains impenetrable, unblinking, almost uncaring. He is prepared for about anything and everything, always expecting the worse possibilities as to save himself from further harm. For you, as well, he is constantly anticipating and observing. In hidden, minute little ways. It may even come as a shame to him if the fact that he enforces the maids to note down your every little move ever reaches your ears.

All in all, Diluc’s complete preparation for anything and everything you may throw his way makes him extremely patient, for better or for worse. Difficult to crack, impenetrable, almost— on one hand, the distance he keeps from you to accommodate for your lack of reciprocation may come as a blessing, but it makes it all too difficult to try and pester him into letting you go, to try and understand his goals and motivations in keeping you locked right away. Your complacency is inevitable, sooner or later, Diluc will begin approaching and weaseling his way into your routine in the smallest of ways, gradually and unconsciously causing you to grow fonder of his presence. It’s a slow process, one he had planned from the very moment his wishes of a domestic life with you grew much too much to handle. He loves you completely, yearns for your love, and for it, he will wait as long as necessary.

Blazing red eyes leer down upon you, your shame increasing tenfold for each second that passes subjected to that gaze of his. A fit of expaseration, you will admit, had sent the cutlery dear Hillie had so delicately prepared flying off of the white tablecloth and onto the hardwood floors, further staining the expensive rugs with wines and crumbs and oils from his favorite meal, a concoction of pasta and steak and cheese. He had prepared yours alongside with it, striking tonight as a tad more special than the rest. You didn’t blame yourself for what you did, not when he had proposed something as outlandish as marriage.

He keeps silent, leaning back in his seat, his throne, as if he were a king observing a mere peasant begging for mercy— quite frankly, you should be. But perhaps tonight he will be more lenient, you ponder, averting your gaze to the flickering embers sparking from the fireplace beside you.

He sighs, suddenly, worn and thoroughly put out by your antics, further embarrassing you by his facade of nonchalance. No, you could tell from the way his leather gloves creaked from gripping himself too hard, he was barely concealing his own anger.

“You hardly let me finish my scentence. Come, we’ll continue this conversation upstairs.”

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kumzume · 4 years

Text

desperate ft. kozume kenma

warnings. SMUT, exhibitionsm, voyuerism, handjob, slight slight slight humiliation if you squint really hard, also kuroo x kenma if you squint + kuroo x you too ;)

an. wrote this in 3 hours and have no idea how long it is LMAO, not proofread, fueled solely by my whorekneeness :D

♡´･ᴗ･`♡

kenma would rather be anywhere but here.

the loud noise of the bass gave him a headache and the numerous people filling the small living room made his skin crawl. the warm beer he’d been steadily nursing didn’t even help distract him from the spring poking through the shitty couch cushion, leaving a small ache in his butt.

as he glanced around the room searching for something to take his mind off of the hell that was this college house party, his mind wandered back to the question that had been in plaguing his mind the entire night: why the hell am i here?

just then, his eye caught on something—rather someone—and he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

oh yeah. it was you.

you were standing in the kitchen speaking to kuroo while grabbing a drink of your own, your short skirt riding up as you laughed at something stupid kuroo said. kenma felt his cheeks heat up, his eyes darting down to his lap as if he wasn’t allowed to stare at his (Gorgeous™) girlfriend.

his cock was already growing in his sweats, one of his hands going to cover it. he wanted to whine for you to come over and take him home so you could fuck him senseless but he knew you were having fun. you’d leave the party with him in a heartbeat but you’d been looking forward to this party for weeks and he didn’t want to ruin it for you.

so, kenma grabbed a musty couch pillow that was stained with something mysterious (was it cum? or blood? he really didn’t want to find out) to cover up his little...problem.

it wasn’t long before you made your way back over to your boyfriend, feeling a little guilty for leaving him alone for too long in an uncomfortable environment. you realized he had problems with big crowds so you were willing to say goodbye to the last of your friends and then leave to cuddle with kenma at home.

as you approached the couch where he sat, you couldn’t help but notice the strategically placed pillow on his lap, his pink cheeks, and teeth digging into his plush bottom lip. a smirk appeared on your face, your years of dating him preparing you to notice that that wasn’t an uncomfortable kenma face—it was a horny kenma face.

“hey baby, are you alright?” you asked, sliding into the empty space next to him on the couch. kenma felt his body immediately seek yours, one of his legs spreading to get in contact with your thigh. of course you noticed this and swiftly decided to do something about it.

you took one of your arms and wrapped it around kenma’s thin waist, pulling him nearly into your lap. a small gasp escaped his lips at the gesture, his head ducking to hide in your neck to cover his burning cheeks.

“baby, tell me what’s wrong, hm?” kenma shook his head at your question, his blond tipped strands ticking the side of your face. you sighed in disappointment while allowing one of your hands to trail down to his lap, gently caressing his thigh before pulling the pillow off of his crotch.

kenma moaned softly into his place in the crook of your neck as your hand palmed his rock hard length through the thin cotton fabric. “oh baby... is this the problem? are you horny, is that it?” your tone, while mocking, is sweet and kenma nodded his head quickly without thinking.

you lifted his face from against your skin to look at him and the sight that greeted you had a gentle sigh leaving your chest. kenma’s cheeks had become bright red from your ministrations and his bright golden eyes gazed on you with adoration and lust pooling in the centers. your smaller hand caressed his jaw before pulling him down for a passionate kiss.

the minute your lips met his, a sharp whine left his mouth, his hands coming up to the back of your head to press you both closer together. your own hand tangled itself in his long hair while your tongue forced its way past his lips.

“oh, are we getting a show?” kuroo exclaimed while coming to sit on the chair across from the couch where you were sat, causing you to hesitantly pull yourself from your boyfriend’s soft lips. you didn’t miss the way kenma followed you or the whimper that escaped him when he did and you doubt kuroo did either.

after sending a placating look kenma’s way, you turned towards kuroo with a roll of your eyes. “i’m sure you’d like that too, pervert. you wanna see me jerk kenma off in the middle of this party?” you replied, only half joking but the way kuroo’s eyes darkened at your statement and kenma’s hips rolled into yours told you something different.

“baby? can you look at me?” you lifted your sweet boyfriend’s face back up so that his eyes would meet yours and all you saw in them was want and desire. still, you believed consent was sexy and you needed his expressly for what you wanted to try out. “are you okay with that kenma? do you want your best friend to watch while i jerk you off in this room full of people?” he nodded heavily, his hips rolling into your hips with more ferocity while a moan of your name left his lips.

your pussy clenched under your skirt at the noise as a wave of slick stained your panties. you were really going to do this. holy shit, okay. after taking a deep breath, you readjusted kenma on your lap so that he was seated in between your legs with his back against your chest. your hand moved down to play with hem of his sweats, a wet stain starting to show where he soaked through his boxers. a glance across the room showed kuroo leaning back into his chair, a noticeable bulge showing through his jeans.

you brushed kenma’s hair over his shoulder before whispering once more in his ear. “are you sure you want to do this? you can say no and we can both go home right now, ok?” as a response, kenma grabbed the hand that was messing with his sweatpants and placed it right over his hardened cock, his hips bucking up into your touch.

“please,” his voice coming out so quiet, you could hardly hear him. “just touch me.” and who were you to deny a sweet request such as that?

kenma’s grip lessened on your wrist, allowing you to room to reach into his sweatpants and pull his dick out, it smacking against his stomach where you’d pulled up his hoodie slightly. his head automatically tilted back to rest on your shoulder but his eyes never left his best friend who had a hand resting on his crotch but left it unmoving.

a quick look around the room showed a couple of interested people, whispering at the sight of kenma writhing in your lap. largely though, the partygoers were unbothered or not paying the slightest attention at what was going on on the couch.

another whine of your name took you out of your thoughts and back to the present where your boyfriend’s cock stood bright red and leaking against his abdomen, waiting for your touch.

you wrapped your hand around the base of his member, earning you a hiss and sharp buck of his hips against you. you began stroking him up and down, careful to twist your wrist around his head in the way you knew he liked. he was heavily drooling precum now, making it easier to pick up speed.

it wasn’t long before he was a moaning, crying mess beneath you, his whimpers leaving him in a higher volume and frequency, attracting quite the crowd. kuroo had been steadily rubbing his cock through his jeans, still unwilling to remove it from its confines with the growing number of people surrounding the two of you.

“you like this hm? you like being put on display for everyone can see?” you murmured into his ear, the slick sound of your strokes nearly drowning you out. he could hardly answer, his eyes rolled back and a thin line of drool spilling from his mouth.

now, that wouldn’t do.

you gave him a sharp slap to his thigh, eliciting a jump and a moan from him and a gasp from your audience. “baby, answer me when i ask you a question.”

“yes, yes, i like w-when they watch me!” he moaned out, his breathing picking up speed as he chased his high. his hips bucked up into the tight circle your hand made, his thighs beginning to shake, signaling his nearing climax.

“c-can i cum, p-please let me cum,” kenma whimpered as his eyes locked on kuroo, his cock twitching in your hold. you followed your boyfriend’s gaze and smiled when you saw who they landed on.

“kuroo, do you want to tell kenma to cum? he’ll do it if you tell him to.” jealous whispers resounded around you but you ignored them in favor of watching kuroo’s eyes darken further and heat rushing to his cheeks. he nodded after a moment but you shake your head. “kuroo, tell him to cum.” you spoke with such finality that kuroo can’t help but do exactly what you say.

“kenma, cum.” it’s simple but it does the trick, kenma’s eyes rolling back, and his back arching as cum splatters all over his thighs, abdomen, and sweatpants. you continued to stroke him through his intense orgasm while he shook in your hold until he pushed your hand away from his softening cock with a whine of too much.

you removed your hand from him before pressing a kiss to his forehead and helping him pull his pants back up to cover him. you briefly took in the faces of the voyeurs standing around in the living room but kenma’s gentle hand on yours alerted you to his tired eyes, and fucked out smile. you smiled back and helped lift him up to his feet, his legs nearly buckling on him threatening to pull you both down to the floor but thankfully, a strong arm appeared, lifting kenma back to his feet.

you looked up to see who the culprit was only to meet the gaze of kuroo who sent you a sheepish smile. your eyes tracked down his body and landed on his still hard cock, straining against his zipper.

you grinned while the pair of you walked kenma to your car, not batting an eye when kuroo suggested coming home with you, to take care of kenma of course.

you knew and he knew what he really wanted and you were more than willing to give it to him.

after all, who were you to deny your boys what they needed?

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disturbedbydesign · 3 years

Text

The Widow and the Wolf - Chapter 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x dark!exWidow!reader

Summary: After Natasha Romanoff took down the Red Room, the former Widows scattered to the wind. Raised to be a killing machine and released into the world with nothing and no one, you decided to use your newfound autonomy to take down the bad guys of your choosing. But now Natasha is riddled with guilt for leaving you on your own. She wants to recruit you, rehabilitate you, make you part of a team again. But the rest of the squad has reservations, and no one is more against you than Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Graphic violence; Mentions of domestic violence, rape, pedophilia, human trafficking, child sex trafficking; eventual Dubcon (not Bucky); eventual smut; slow(ish) burn enemies-to-lovers. [More warnings will be added as necessary but these are the Big Bads.] 18+ only, no minors.

If you prefer to read on AO3, you can do so here.

Chapter Two

It’s almost midnight by the time Garcia is officially gator food, but you’re too wired for sleep. You head out, driving the hour and change to Miami, with a stop on the way to clean yourself up a bit in a gas station bathroom. You check in to the swanky South Beach hotel you’ve decided to treat yourself to, because you’ve earned it. The world is a better place without that man in it, the impressionable young girls of Miami are a bit safer tonight, and that’s enough for you. For the moment, it’s enough.

Your next target is a man you’ve been searching for for a long time, and he’s your own personal project, but tonight you aren’t going to think about him. Tonight you’re going to allow yourself a moment to breathe, to celebrate your victories—a party of one, as usual, but satisfying all the same. You don’t have that much time left before last call at the clubs so you get yourself together quickly and hit the spot closest to your hotel. Even at this time of night, there’s a line to get in, but one look at you and the bouncer is opening that velvet rope and beckoning you inside.

The place reeks of sweat and unchecked hormones as you make your way to the bar, the booming bass drowning out any and all thoughts you might have, which is exactly the way you want it tonight. You order a double vodka rocks and you wait to see what kind of man will approach you this evening: angel or devil. Of course, none of them are really angels, not in the club at this time of night, but some are far worse than others.

You have no problem with decent men. There’s nothing wrong with trying to get laid. It’s normal, it’s natural—you know that now. You’ve even learned to enjoy consensual sex with strangers. At first it was difficult for you—your body having belonged to others for your entire life. But it wasn’t long before you started to enjoy the power of choice, of having control over what your body did and who with.

A man approaches you—brown hair, blue eyes, muscular—and you hate that your first thought is of him but you can’t help it. The Winter Soldier had always been the stuff of nightmares—a ghost story to some, but the Widows knew better. He was terrifying, yes, but the few people who had seen the man’s face and lived to tell about it had always remarked on how handsome he was, even with that cold, dead-eyed stare. You’d seen pictures of him after he came out from under all that brainwashing, and they had proven the reports correct, but you’d never seen him in person until tonight. You couldn’t stand the sight of him in some ways, but in others…

You turn to the attractive stranger and smile, waiting to see what he’ll do.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he yells over the music. You raise your nearly full cocktail in his direction and he smiles awkwardly. “That’s the best line I got,” he says, and he introduces himself with a name you don’t commit to memory.

You give him a fake name and he reaches his hand out to shake. He’s got a disarming personality, but that doesn’t mean you trust him. You know better than anyone that there’s no better tactic than to appear non-threatening. Still, he’s incredibly attractive and you’re in the mood for a party of two tonight.

You let him talk for a while—about his job, about his family—and you pepper in a few lies here and there. He hasn’t laid a hand on you or invaded your personal space in any way that isn’t necessary among the crush of people at the bar. When the bartender signals last call, you decide that he’ll do. You’re rarely wrong about people, and even if you are, you could snap his neck like a twig if necessary.

You allow him to walk you out, expecting him to make a move, but he doesn’t. He just stands there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, rocking a bit awkwardly on his feet.

You smile and tilt your head. “Nightcap?” you ask, and he follows you like a puppy to your hotel room.

You don’t want another drink and neither does he, but he waits for your signal before he tries anything. You try not to make it all seem transactional, but it’s not like your heart is in it. You let him kiss you and touch you, albeit briefly, and you pretend to enjoy it even though that’s not what you want. What you want is to be on top of him, using his body for the pleasure of your own, and it’s not long before you’re doing exactly that. Your beautiful stranger certainly doesn’t mind, not even when you close your eyes and allow yourself to think about someone else inside you—what his face might look like all twisted up and blissed out, what sounds might spill from his pretty lips, what the cold metal might feel like against your hot sweaty skin.

You make yourself cum and then kick him out (kindly). You’re gone by sunrise. You’ve got places to be.

*****

Natasha sits cross-legged on her couch, a pint of ice cream in one hand and scrolling her tablet with the other. After Miami, you’ve been a ghost. None of her usual contacts have been able to give her anything useful. You’ve gone underground, and she knows she won’t find you if you really don’t want to be found. Whoever your next target is, it has to be somebody big if you’ve covered your tracks this well.

She doesn’t regret not taking you in, even though Bucky had complained the entire ride back about how leaving you there was a mistake. But, as she’d told him, you have to want to come in. Trying to force your hand is not only incredibly dangerous, it defeats the purpose. Natasha doesn’t want to retraumatize you; she wants to help you. There’s no point in trading a floating cage for a gilded one.

She doesn’t realize she’s finished the pint until the spoon hits the cardboard. When she goes to pull another one from the freezer, her phone rings.

“What’s up, Rogers?”

Steve’s voice holds a barely contained anger that Natasha knows well. “You need to come in.”

She should have known Bucky would rat her out, but it still pisses her off. “Steve, it’s getting late. Can we do this in the morning?”

“I don’t know,” Steve replies. “Are you gonna steal another jet in the middle of the night?”

“Technically, I didn’t steal-”

“Natasha, please,” he says, and she can picture the set of his jaw on the other end of the line.

She sighs. “Alright, fine. I’m leaving now.”

When she gets to the tower, most of the usual suspects are gathered around the conference table. Steve looks pissed. Tony looks amused. Sam and Wanda look concerned. And while, to anyone else Bucky would be wearing no expression at all, Natasha can tell that he’s feeling a bit guilty—as he should, he gave her his word. He mouths “I’m sorry” when she sits down at the table and she raises an eyebrow at him that he knows to translate as a middle finger.

Steve tries to speak but Natasha cuts him off. “Save me the lecture, Rogers. I’m not going to apologize.”

Steve’s voice is stern but not unkind. “This needs to be a group decision, Natasha, and as of right now, you’re the only person who thinks this is a good idea.”

“That’s not actually true,” she says. “Wanda? Do you want to tell Steve what you told me?”

Wanda looks a little shocked to be called out but she answers, if a bit hesitantly. “It sounds like she needs help, Steve. Like she’s lost. I… I know what that feels like—when everyone thinks you’re a monster.”

Wanda and Nat’s eyes both turn to Bucky, looking for any recognition whatsoever that he, too, knows exactly where they’re coming from, but he’s completely stolid. Underneath his blood is boiling and he feels like he wants to crawl out of his skin, but the surface remains placid.

Tony pops a blueberry into his mouth and swivels in his chair to face Natasha. “So, let me see if I’m understanding this correctly, Romanoff. You want to bring in one of your former compatriots who has spent the last… what?... year or so on a globetrotting murder spree? Am I getting the general idea here, or am I missing something? I have to be missing something, because if I’m not missing something, this is categorically batshit.”

“It’s more complicated than that, Stark. But essentially, yes. That’s exactly what I want to do.”

Tony laughs. “Wow. OK. Well, Rogers—you and I rarely agree on… well… anything, but I gotta say, I’m Team Cap with this one.”

Natasha crosses her arms and huffs her displeasure.

“I’m sorry,” Tony says, looking around and addressing the room, “but don’t we usually catch mass murderers? Isn’t that kind of our thing?”

The longer the conversation goes on, the more uncomfortable Bucky gets. It wasn’t lost on him that Tony’s eyes lingered on him when he threw out the term “mass murderers,” and he’s learned that it’s better to just let Tony go off when he feels the need. Still, he needs to get out of the room. He needs to take a walk, get some air, push all thoughts of you and this whole mess out of his mind, because if he doesn’t, he thinks he might go crazy.

“Are we done here?” Bucky asks.

“No,” Steve replies. “Sam? Anything you want to say?”

Sam takes a minute to gather his thoughts. “Look, Nat, I understand where you’re coming from on this. I really do. And it would be different if she was willing to come in on her own. But it sounds to me like she isn’t interested. She wants to be doing exactly what she’s doing. You can’t rehabilitate that. You just can’t.”

Steve looks apologetically at Natasha. “I’m sorry,” he says, “but it’s a no. I’m not necessarily saying we go after her-”

“I am,” Tony interjects. “I’m saying that. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Steve glares at Tony and it shuts him up. “Leave it alone, Tony.”

“You’re seriously telling me you want to leave this girl on the streets knowing what we know? Come on, Rogers.”

Everyone starts to raise their voice at once—everyone except Bucky, who is already sneaking out and halfway to the door—when Natasha shouts, “Enough!”

She takes a deep breath and blows it out, speaking softer now. “I’ll find her and I’ll bring her in, whether she wants to come or not. But it stays in this room—no cops, no agents, just the team. When I get her here, I’ll figure out what to do with her.”

“Fine,” Steve says, and the rest of the team assents. “Buck, you go with her.”

Every cell in Bucky’s body is screaming not to do it, but he never could say no to Steve. He grunts his agreement, refusing to even look at Natasha before storming out of the room and out into the humid mid-August evening. He walks all the way from Midtown to Brooklyn, but he still can’t shake the malaise that’s settled over him ever since Natasha first came to him with her plan.

Bucky knows that he should understand—and, in a way, he does—but he just can’t bring himself to feel anything for you except disgust. Natasha sees something in you that he just doesn’t see. All Bucky wanted to do when he finally got free of it all was prove to everyone that he was a good man—that he was not the things that he’d done. It took a lot of work and a lot of time, but he’s finally in a place where he’s separated himself from the Winter Soldier. That isn’t who he is; it never was.

Steve always knew that, and Natasha hadn’t taken much convincing. The others, though—some of them still don’t fully trust him, and if he thinks about it for too long, it cuts deep. So when Bucky thinks of you—free now, but still violent and bloodthirsty and absolutely unrepentant—it makes him sick. After all the work Bucky has done, how can Natasha look at you and him and think that you’re the same?

Not everyone comes out of their traumas unscathed. Sometimes people can’t come back from the things that have happened to them. That’s you. That’s who you are. You’re not good, you never will be, and as sad as it may make him, Bucky truly believes that you are beyond redemption. You don’t need to be saved; you need to be stopped.

Bucky gets a text as he unlocks the door to his Brooklyn Heights apartment. He’s been waiting for it, hoping for it, and now he has it. Natasha doesn’t know where you are yet, but he does. One of his contacts in Bucharest has a line on you, and he’s not going to let you get away this time. Much as it pains him, he doesn’t trust Natasha to keep her word to the team and take you in against your will. No, Bucky is going to handle this himself. You may be a Widow, but you’re no match for the White Wolf.

CHAPTER THREE >>>

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #dark!fic #dark!reader #the widow and the wolf

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the-witty-pen-name · 3 years

Text

Deadbeat Pt. 6

Lee Bodecker x F!Reader

18+ ONLY

Warnings: age gap (reader is 21), fluff, angst, smut, dirty talk, semi-public sex, cursing, abandonment, toxic parent, violence, toxic siblings, infatuation, cheating/divorce, insecurity, mild housewife kink, mentions of prostitution, mentions of alcohol, corrupt official, fake relationship, jealousy

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: You work at the bar at the edge of town, the Sheriff is going through a divorce and needs to rent a room.

A/N: I’m terrible at writing summaries and I’m so sorry about that! I don’t think I would consider this a dark!fic, but it does cover a lot of themes, and topics that are darker than I usually write about- but I think that comes with the territory of writing about Lee Bodecker. I’ll make sure to update the warnings for each chapter and do not read if you are underage. I also ignored canon for this one.

Thank you all so much for reading and sharing my work. Everyone whose reached out and told me how much they love the story really makes my day, oh my gosh!! I love you all so much, I’m so thankful.

This is unedited, and I missed anything I should include as a warning let me know! I hope you all enjoy!

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five

Tags and Requests are OPEN

send me an ask or message to be added to the taglist! I think I got everybody who has asked to be added, but to make sure it doesn’t get lost, sending me a message or an ask will make it easier to keep track! Thank you!!! The support has been overwhelming for my first fic I’m so happy you all are enjoying it!

He turns onto your street and as you get closer to your house, there’s a car out front you don’t recognize.

“You expecting somebody?” Arvin asks.

“Nope,” you say seeing a figure sitting on the front porch swing- unable to make out who it is.

Pulling up to the house the figure is a man, but you still can’t distinguish any features as Arvin continues to drive down the dirt road. You’re incredibly nervous and your mind is racing wondering who it would be. You were scared.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Arvin says, noticing as you fidget in your seat. He takes your hand to comfort you, now driving with one hand on the wheel. He parks his truck at the side of the house. It’s Henry Curtis- that damned reporter. Shit, you think to yourself, he doesn’t know that you lied to him at the bar.

“Who is that?” Arvin asks, staring daggers at the man as he flips a page in the newspaper he was reading while he waits on the front porch. You hide your face behind Arvin, leaning back so Mr. Curtis can’t see who is in the passenger seat.

“He’s this reporter that’s been trying to write a story about my mom,” you explain quickly, “He came into the bar the night before trying to talk to me but I lied and said I wasn’t me. He must have gotten the address somehow- he knows the Sheriff lives here… Maybe he’s trying to dig up something.”

“Is there something-?”

“No! Of course not,” you lie, and it makes you feel terrible. It makes you feel so guilty lying to Arvin but you weren’t ready to tell him anything. “Like everyone else in this town, he’s probably heard all the rumors and things people are saying about me and he’s gonna try to use that.”

“What should we do? It’s not like he’s seeing you with Sheriff Bodecker… you’re with me.”

“Wait- Arvin, that’s it,” you say in a hushed voiced. You peer over his shoulder to see if the reporter was getting suspicious.

“What’s it?” he asks with an eyebrow raised.

“Pretend to be my boyfriend?” You ask hurriedly. “If he thinks I’m single he’s gonna keep hounding me. But if I’m in a relationship, he’s got no reason to keep pursuing the dead-end story and maybe he’ll leave me alone.”

Arvin looks at you, and sighs heavily as he thinks about it. He knows it’s pointless because he knows he’s never going to be able to say no to you. Besides, it’s just a one-time rouse, just so this guy doesn’t bother you again. Arvin feels obligated to say yes, hoping this somehow could make his actions in the past up to you.

“Okay,” he says, forcing a small smile. “I’ll follow your lead.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” you exclaim, giving him a brief hug.

He gets out of the car first, tipping his baseball cap to the man on the porch, before coming around and helping you out of the truck. He keeps his arm around your waist, and holds you close to his side as he walked. Christ, he’s missed this.

“Afternoon,” Curtis greets, putting down his newspaper, and leaving it on the swing. “Henry Curtis. I’m a reporter for the Columbus Dispatch.” He comes down the front steps, as Arvin grabs your groceries from the back of the truck. He walks over to the car and extends his hand to both of you, matching his introduction with a firm handshake. He tilts his head, looking at you, immediately recognizing you from the bar. You’re quick on your feet, and good at putting on an act. You spoke quickly before he got the chance to accuse anything.

“I remember you Mr. Curtis,” you say with a smile. You come off as a little shy. “I wasn’t very truthful to you when we first met and I’m sorry about that,” you say. “But I was scared when you came in asking for me,” you explain, “Strange man comes in, asking for me by name without introducing himself first. Would scare any gal, I hope you understand.”

Arvin holds back a laugh at how thick you are laying it on. You were putting on a Southern belle persona, and it wasn’t like you at all. He admired how quick you were on your feet. It amazed him actually how smoothly you were able to pull it off. “I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” you say, introducing yourself properly. “This is my boyfriend Arvin Russell.” His heart tugs a little, but he ignores it the best he can.

“I suppose I understand,” Curtis says, looking the two of you over. “I think that I came on a little too strong when I first introduced myself. I apologize. It’s nice to meet you both.”

“Good to know ya, Mr. Curtis,” Arvin nods, bringing your groceries up to your front porch as Mr. Curtis asks you more questions.

“I hate to intrude,” Curtis begins and you hold back a scoff, “But I had been told by some people you too had called it quits before the Sheriff moved in- a Ms. Perry, I think. When I was just asking around for a way to get in touch, her and another woman told me more than I was asking.”

“Oh of course, Mr. Curtis,” you chuckle. “They would have been right, but we’ve gotten back together since then. You’re in on the news before Ms. Perry it sounds like.”

“Ah, we’ll I’m happy to hear you both are happy,” he clears his throat. He wasn’t anticipating this and this new information has thrown off his hunch about the situation.

“That’s mighty kind of you,” you smile, resting your arm on Arvin’s shoulder when he returns to your side.

“How long has it been?” he asks curiously. You look up at Arvin, biting your lip playing dumb trying to remember.

“About two weeks, I think,” you finalize, “Maybe three. I mean we’d been together since we both got out of high school so it’s more like we’ve done been together for four years.”

“And you both don’t mind the living situation, not to pry in something that isn’t my business, but an unmarried woman renting out a room to a man is very peculiar,” he insinuates, and Arvin wraps his arm around your waist.

“I have no reason to not trust her,” Arvin says, coming to your defense, and you genuinely smile, even though you know it’s not true. It hurts, but you know it’s just for now. Keeping your relationship with Lee a secret was your idea after all, and you thought keeping it a secret would be easier. But now you’re here lying to one of the only people in town you care about.

“I’d be more worried about the Sheriff,” Curtis counters with a laugh. “Well, I came here to talk to Ms. (Y/L/N) about her mother.”

“I didn’t lie to you when I said I didn’t know anything,” you interject. “Honest, I don’t. I wish I knew more. I’m worried sick thinking about my brother and if he’s okay- but I haven’t heard about either of them. They haven’t reached out since they moved out.”

“I believe you,” he said sympathetically, “Sheriff Bodecker let me read the statement you gave at the station. And I’m sorry you are going through this.”

“I don’t know how’d I’d make it through without Arvin,” you say, looking up at him. He leans down and kisses your temple quickly.

“I should be going, I suppose,” he says, “I’ll be in town for a little while longer, so I hope to see you too around. Please, call me if you hear something.” The man hands you both a business card, and then goes to his car, and pulling away, not even bothering to grab the newspaper he left on the front porch.

“What a sleaze,” you shudder, moving away from Arvin’s embrace.

“He seemed nice enough,” Arvin shrugs, “But I guess that’s an act he puts on.”

“He’s trouble, Arvin,” you insist. He nods, trusting you. You both stand awkwardly for a few moments. You were wishing you could tell him and come clean. It felt horrible keeping this secret from him, he didn’t deserve to be a pawn covering up this scheme of yours without knowing. You would tell him, you decided you would, but you needed to wait for the right time.

“I really appreciate you helping me,” you say, cutting across the silence.

“Of course,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets. “I guess I should get going. I need to pick up Lenora at the cemetery.”

“Okay,” you nod, “See you later?”

“I’m always here,” he chuckles. You turn around and bring your bags inside as Arvin drives away. The whole interaction with Curtis made you incredibly uncomfortable, and you just wanted nothing more than to just see Lee.

You put the groceries away quickly, and then needed to change out these clothes. You headed up to your bedroom, and changed into a more comfortable outfit. You felt a little gross, like there was a layer of something on your skin, even though you were fine. It was like the residue of the lie you told Arvin was still crawling on your skin. You kept reminding yourself that it was only temporary.

“It’s okay to be selfish sometimes, sweetheart,” Lee said, pulling you in close later that night as you were telling him about how you felt towards lying to Arvin. He appreciated how honest you were, and he often wished he was more like you.

However, he also couldn’t help the jealousy that was bubbling up inside him. Thinking about Arvin touching you, even if you had been his first- the visual made his jaw lock. It wasn’t that it was just Arvin- any man touching you would send him into a jealous frenzy. He wasn’t worried about you. He really truly trusted you, but he didn’t for a second trust the Russell boy when it came to you.

You rested your head on his shoulder and rested your palm on his chest as he pulled the blanket up for the two of you. He laid on his back, you cuddled up close to his side. He had one arm wrapped securely around you and the other rested bent behind his head.

“I just hate keeping secrets,” you mumble and it makes him sigh. He now combatted with his own guilt. He was torn between telling you about his involvements around town, like Leroy Brown, or telling you about how he’s been covering for his sister. He wants out, and he just wants to protect you. His main concern about keeping that part of his life under wraps isn’t even about reelection anymore, it’s about keeping you safe. Brown couldn’t know about you; it would put you in danger. He just needed time to get out of the whole mess and then he’d confess everything to you, even if the fear of losing you stayed at the forefront of his mind.

“It’s not forever, sweetheart,” he whispers, rubbing circles on your back comfortingly. “We won’t have to keep ourselves locked away in this house forever,” he chuckles, “even though I love it.” His words make you blush and you swat his chest playfully. “What? I do,” he grins, “I love just being home with you. It’s like the rest of the world don’t even exist when it’s just you and me.”

“When that reporter leaves, everything will get better,” you affirm. “I thought keeping us a secret would be easier,” you admit, drawing aimless shapes over his white t-shirt.

“I can’t wait to show you off,” he mumbles, nuzzling closer to you. “Just show the whole world you’re my girl.”

“You did get pretty lucky,” you chuckle, closing your eyes.

“I know I did,” he hums in agreement, pulling you into his chest.

You got the call the next day letting you know you got the job. You quit your bartending job immediately, you’re so excited that you forget all about the stress you were battling with the previous night. You felt like you were walking on air. Things were looking up for the most part. You had secured a stable job, you were going to start making more money, you had Lee- you felt good. It was definitely a calm before the storm.

You’re worries for now floated to the back of your mind and you allowed yourself to just be happy for yourself. You got something, and it was all your own. You worked hard and you did this. You’d start this next phase of your life Monday morning and you couldn’t wait. You wanted to just speed through the weekend. Well, speed through the rest of Thursday, Friday, Saturday- enjoy your date with Lee, and then speed through Sunday.

You had butterflies. You felt silly that the idea of going on a date with Lee made you feel this way but you were really excited. It made you feel like this relationship was normal, and much more doable than you were thinking it would be. The age gap, living together, so many things made you worry constantly about other people and their opinions. Being stuck in that small town really would affect your confidence and self-esteem. You’re strong, and most of the time things that petty don’t affect you, but the consistency of it all is draining.

Now you both are sitting in the front of Lee’s car, not the cruiser- his ’55 Dodge he hardly drove. He kept his car, but because he was always working, it mostly sat in your garage. He’d offer you the keys, leaving them hanging up in the kitchen for you to take whenever you wanted, but something about the town seeing you driving his car was daunting. You knew people would talk regardless of what you did, but you didn’t like to add fuel to the flame when you could avoid it.

Sitting in the bench seat, with your eyes glued to the movie that played on the screen, you kept stealing glances at Lee. He looked nice out of uniform- much more relaxed and like he wasn’t hiding behind some front he felt he needed to live up to the badge. His leather jacket was secured around your shoulders, and you decide to slid over to him. Your actions snap him out of his thoughts and he smirks, pulling his arm around you and pulling you in close to his side.

It was a dark night, you couldn’t see in to the cars surrounding you, even though you were parked towards the back of the lot of cars anyways. The window was rolled down just enough to have the speaker clipped in place, and the breeze was a little chilly. He pressed his lips to the top of your head, giving you a quick kiss while you got comfortable and then you both turned back to the movie.

Lee couldn’t focus on the movie in front of him if he wanted to. It was just like how he felt like that night awhile back when you’d fallen asleep on the couch together. This time though, he shouldn’t be nervous. You were there and his girl. But now he felt nervous like he was a teenager again or something- and you’re there wrapped up in his arms, and the smell of your shampoo is amazing, and he’s just so wrapped up in thoughts of you, he couldn’t even tell you the name of the movie playing, or who was in it, or what it was even about. Then, you rested your hand on his leg and he thought he was going to combust.

“Lee,” you whisper in his ear and he feels a shiver run down his whole spine, “Are you paying attention?”

“Y-yeah,” he says, sitting up a little straighter and you scoff.

“What’s the movie called?” you ask with a smirk, rubbing his leg gently. He fumbles over his words trying to stall.

“I don’t know,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair nervously.

“Me neither,” you giggle, and he let’s out a long breath of relief. You lean up to whisper in his ear, your hand rubbing over the bulge in his pants. “I can’t think about anything but moving to the backseat,” you whisper. He groans as a response and then pulls you into a kiss, tangling his hand in your hair. You teasingly bit his lip, pulling away from the kiss. He pouts at the separation as you quickly kick off your shoes and then climb over the bench seat to the back, accidentally (or maybe on purpose) giving him a view of your panties that you wore under your skirt.

“You’re killing me, doll,” he moans, quickly following your lead, smacking your ass playfully. You yelp in response and laugh as he climbs over the bench seat and crawls on top of you.

He scoops you up in his arms so he can seat stretched out on the backseat and you maneuver so you’re straddling his waist, your miniskirt riding up around your waist. His tongue tangles with yours and his hands grab at the flesh of your upper thighs. Your hands move down his chest to his torso to his belt, fumbling to undo the buckle and then his fly.

“Fuck,” he moans, when he pulls away from the kiss and his hands move to rub your back under your top. You move to pulls his jacket off of you and he holds your wrists gently to stop you. “Keep it on, sugar,” he murmurs, and then dips down to kiss and bit at your neck. You moan as he kisses from your neck downward as he partially unbuttons your shirt, opening it just enough to reveal your bra.

As your hands run through his hair, he pulls back from your skin to kiss your lips frantically again. His hand travels down and pushes his pants and boxers down enough to free his cock, and he swiftly moves your panties to the side. “Please, Lee,” you whine impatiently, and he smirks, feeling your arousal.

“You’re so wet, baby girl,” he chuckles, teasing your entrance and you moan. He loves ever reaction you give him.

“You want me to ride you Sheriff?” you ask lowly batting your lashes. He rests his head back and he has a firm grip on your hips.

“Please, honey,” he says, almost in a whimper. It felt good, it felt really good seeing him under you like this. You smile, leaning down and kissing his neck as you slide yourself onto his length. You take a sharp intake of breath, adjusting as it stretches you and Lee moans. You’re thankful the windows are fogged, and the movie is still playing, but there was something thrilling about this nonetheless. No one would see you if they looked over anyways, and no one would be paying attention to your car.

“You’re so big,” you praise as you begin to move yourself up and down. Lee peppers kisses on exposed part of your breast and moves his hands down to squeeze your ass as you ride him.

“Fuck you’re so perfect, sweetheart, you feel so good,” he moans, his hands helping to move you up and down on him.

His praises just encourage you to quicken your pace and he still helps guide you. Not breaking your rhythm together, he moves one hand to pull out his wallet from his pocket while the other moves to rest on the small of your back as you continue to bounce on him.

“One second, sweetheart,” he mumbles against your lips. “Lay down on the seat for me.”

You nod and follow his instructions. You watch as he pulls a condom from his wallet, quickly unwrapping it and slipping it on. Once he secures it, he bends down connecting his lips with yours again.

“You’re stunning,” he praises, taking off your panties. He takes a minute to just take in how you look- your hair sprawled out as you rest your back on the seat, your chest rising and falling breathing heavy with anticipation, your neck covered in marks he’s left behind and your skirt pushed up around your waist, and you’re wearing his jacket. “Goddamn perfect,” he declares, kissing you one more time before guiding himself into you.

His thrusts are a little sloppy, this new position makes the limited space much more obvious, but it doesn’t matter. You both are close and pressed up against each other, and both of you know you’re close. He can feel as you tighten around him and you can feel every time, he’s hitting the spots inside you perfectly.

“Lee, I’m so close,” you moan, your arms wrapping around his neck, and he moves faster, this time the car rocks a little, making you laugh.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, sugar,” he grunts, “so perfect.”

You throw your head back as you feel your release, and at the sensation he shortly follows.

“Fuck, Lee,” you moan, feeling your orgasm rip through you.

“Fuck, I love you, sugar,” he groans, as he rides out his orgasm. He pulls out, resting his forehead on yours, panting heavily.

“You what?” You ask breathless, your eyes widening at the confession.

PART SEVEN

Taglist:

@scar-is-bi @jiminlife2k18 @asylummaniac01 @rosalynshields @charmed-asylum @jamesbuchananbuckybarnes1917 @alexandrathegreat3 @hersilencedscreams @malar-region @purplerain85 @vesper852 @smilewolfdolan @softshell-taco @champagnebucky

#lee bodecker #lee bodecker imagine #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker fic #lee #lee bodecker smut #smut #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan characters #x reader #the devil all the time #tom holland x reader #tom holland #arvin russel x reader #sebastian stan one shot #lee bodecker x reader smut

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oftenderweapons · 3 years

Text

The Early Bird – Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x reader (nicknamed Candy)

Wordcount: 2.3k

Genre: smut, pretty much pwp, drabble, established relationship

Rating: 18+

Hello hummingbirds! I just came in quickly to type in this very very brief Jungkook smutty drabble because after today’s pics well... Me and my mates (shoutout to @nervous-moon) were a bit all over the place. Not much plot. Just filth.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: very smutty Jk. Filthy as hell. Lots of swearing. Dirty talking. Slight corruption kink. Post-workout testosterone galore. Degradation kink; dommy JK, very patronising. Lots of switching positions. Multiple orgasms. Unprotected sex (get tested before going bare with your partner. Pretty please). Very lowkey spanking. Lots of tattoo kinks. He touches between her legs without her consent (Candy is sleeping), but she *does* give him consent as soon as she wakes up. I understand some people could be triggered by this and I am sorry if this makes you uncomfortable.

In case you need it, here is my masterlist.

Enjoy💜✨

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Jeongguk exited his home gym and headed for the kitchen to grab a fresh bottle of water. Uncapping it quickly, he took a large mouthful, draining the bottle with a series of loud gulps.

His early morning work out routine had several perks: the great peace of mind which helped him start a new day, the sense of focus that made his nerve endings jolt to life before he started his daily routine, and the pleasing idea of hitting the shower detoxifyed, after sweating sleep and the remnants of the previous day off himself.

It felt right to start the day with exercise.

It felt a bit less right to wake up an hour earlier and abandon you in his bed, warm and cosy and so soft, smelling of his fabric softener and that sweet lotion that he liked so much.

He took off his shirt on the way to the bedroom, dropping it off in the basket in the laundry room. Shirtless and sweaty, he reached the bedroom door, his mind already going places as his hand rubbed at his abs, climbing up to his chest.

There you were, innocent in your sleeping form, curled up in a ball in the middle of the bed, the white sheets exposing your legs and your chest.

You looked so pretty. So small. So pure and unprotected. You looked like a delicate lamb, napping in a soft cloud of perfect peacefulness. It looked like even in your sleep you were offering yourself to him.

He felt ravenous. Predatorial.

He undressed quickly, feeling only slightly guilty as he stroked himself a couple times, his hand meeting his shaft already half hard, blood pressure spiking as he felt his own hand on his flesh.

But it wouldn’t do. Because nothing could compare to the velvet of your cunt, the sweet, sticky wetness of your arousal coating your folds, like honey waiting to be tasted, licked, violated. You were there, laying gently, and he was at the feet of the bed, ready to pounce on you, already imagining the sweet little coos you would emit while waking up, his cock spearing you, your mouth parting in an ‘o’ as realisation hit you.

Slowly and clumsily he climbed on the bed, crawling towards you on three limbs as one hand was still busy on his length.

He hovered above you, bending at his elbow to lean his head against your breast, kissing any part of your chest that was uncovered by your arm, curled up against your front.

Looking at your face, he gently moved his hand away from his sex, sliding it under the covers and brushing it against the curve of your bottom, sliding his middle finger between your folds, moaning at the wetness.

“Sweetie.” He whispered against your ear. “Wake up, Candy.” He murmured with a soft voice. “I need my sweet girl.” He teased, his finger searching for your clit.

Your body finally reacted, your eyelids fluttering open. “Gguk.” You whined, still sleepy.

“Hello, sweet thing.” He said, smiling happily.

You took in his damp hair, his lack of a shirt. “You back from the gym?” You asked, frowning as you yawned.

“Yes, Candy.” He cooed, nuzzling his hair against your bosom as soon as you offered your chest to him.

“And why is your hand between my legs?”

“Because I need my sweet girlfriend’s sweet pussy.” He growled, his mouth outright filthy in a way that normally wasn’t unless he felt like totally wrecking you.

Grabbing his wrist, you removed his hand, turning on your back and trying to wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck. “Just use me.” You murmured, closing your eyes and kissing his bicep flexed beside our head, your mouth landing distractedly on one of his tattoos.

“Don’t worry, I’ll think about it for you, baby.” With one arm he held his weight off you, while with the other, he untangled the bedsheets from your form, tugging them off and exposing your body in all of its perfect nakedness. Next his arm slithered under your back, lifting you off the mattress and helping you up as he rose on his knees, kneeling on the bed.

Slowly, he made his way to the edge of the mattress, placing his ass down and unfolding his legs, letting his feet rest against the floor. He had seen this position on a video while he was away on tour but somehow it had slipped away, coming back to him earlier as he lifted some weights in the gym.

You simpy laid your head on the crook of his neck, kissing his skin and enjoying the salty feel of his sweat on your lips. Your legs loosened around his waist as he settled in this new position.

“I need you to listen carefully, Candy.” He growled at your ear. “I’m gonna do you rough, baby, but I know you’ve just woken up.”

You nodded distractedly beneath his ear, snuggling him.

“I’ll be careful first, but next I need you to hold tight.” He kissed your temple and caressed your spine. “I’ll take care of you.” He promised. “I’ll take care of everything.” He murmured against your ear. “I need to slide in, ____.” He explained, gripping his shaft and rubbing it against your folds.

“Do it.” You said sleepily, whimpering as he pushed the tip in, groaning.

“Feels good?” He asked, giving a delicate thrust in, his other hand against the small of your back, pushing you towards him as he slid in.

“Very.” You murmured, letting your open mouth rest against his neck, your tongue slipping out and curling against his skin, tasting his sweat, searching for the little mole that always drove him crazy under the tip of your tongue. He was addictive.

“It was made for you, Candy.” He groaned with a chuckle. “It was made to make you whimper and moan like a little slut.” He sank deep into you, bottoming out.

You simply exhaled at his neck. If he was already degrading you in that cocky, teasing way of his, then he was really needy. Good thing you were craving him too.

His arms snaked under your legs, the crook of his elbows slotting against the bend of your knees while his hands settled on the small of your back, holding you as his biceps flexed and lifted you, making you slide off his cock.

“Oh god.” You murmured at his neck, biting his skin to keep yourself from being too loud.

“That good?” He asked. “Wait till I slam you down again.” He said, growling, his voice strained as he slowly, made you twirl on him, only the tip inside, rubbing against the tight rim of muscles at your entrance before he let you slide on him again, your hands finding the long locks of his hair at his nape and tugging them desperately as he reached the bottom of your cunt, flexing his strong thighs and glutes to give a few small thrusts before lifting you up again, this time keeping you midair as he bent his head, licking the shell of your ear.

“You’re being too quiet. Need it faster? Harder?” He slid you down gently, using his hands to press your hips forward, against his, until he could feel every square inch of your inner muscles fighting between swallowing him in and pushing him out. “Did you get used to hard and fast?” He asked, sliding you up slowly again and grunting in effort as he bit your earlobe. “Or maybe you need me to fuck you like my bitch.” He slammed you down. Hard.

You let your mouth hang open in a loud cry, your lungs empty.

“That way, uh? Dirty pretty whore you are. Just for me.” He cried out, angling your body away from his, your head lifting from his shoulder and trying to stay upright as you looked into his dark pupils, your stare a bit lost and vacant as he started lifting you up and down like you weighted nothing, looking at you as your eyes crossed, mouth open, a series of short gasps making your lips part in smaller or larger ‘o’s.

He was beautiful, almost painfully so. His brow was furrowed, his lower lip tucked between his teeth before it slid out, his jaw dropping as you squeezed his with your kegels and started helping him, riding his cock with small thrusts of your pelvis, as far as his arms allowed you in that caged position. “Need to ride my cock?” He asked with an arrogant smirk, his eyes rolling closed as you squeezed him particularly tight.

“Yes.” You replied simply.

“But I need to see your silly face as I fuck you stupid, just like this.” He objected, slowing down for a few thrusts, focusing on hitting your sweet spot. The spongy head of his cock rubbed against your G-spot repeatedly, making you call his name, stuttering it a couple times as your breath caught in your throat. “Like that.” You called, unwrapping an arm from his neck and bringing it between your legs, trying desperately to conjure your first high.

“Come on. Give me that cockhungry little pout. Let me see your filthy mouth open wide for me.” He said, leaning down to suck your nipple into his mouth, pumping it a couple times with the tight sucking of his cheeks before releasing it. “I want your gorgeous tits blushing while you cum on my cock.” He growled against your other breast, taking the other nipple in his mouth before he started sliding you up and down his length like you were nothing but a fleshlight, using you for his pleasure.

“Gguk. I—” Next, an inarticulate ramble left your lips, your body arching away from him with the perfect angle that trapped your clit between your expert fingers and the divine fullness of Jeongguk’s cock rubbing the inner nerve endings from inside.

Your body didn’t stop shaking even as he started leaning down, his arms unhooking from below your legs and simply coming up to place his hands on your waist.

“I’m not done with you, my sweet fuckdoll.” He looked you in the eye as his tattoed hand slapped your ass with a dry cracking sound. “Your velvet cunt hasn’t taken my cum yet.” And just like that, he started helping you ride him, the only thing saving you from overstimulation the lack of attention on your clit.

“Gguk. Please.” You begged, not even sure for what.

“What is it,” he grunted, both his hands grabbing your ass and helping it up before his palms slid up to your sides, grabbing you and slamming you down.

“Need you on top.” You whined, trying to sweeten him.

He smirked. “Lazy pillow princess, ain’t you?” He slapped your ass again, the stinging feeling making your lips part and your eyes water slightly.

It felt all too good. “You do it better than me.” You praised him, definitely knowing how to get what you want.

He nodded, eyebrows lifting. “I do.” He said, holding your front close to his chest and making you roll on your back, his body inviting you to slide forward, toward the middle of the bed, so that his legs could find purchase on the mattress and he could hammer into you just the way you like it.

Once his body was perched on top of you, he helped one of your legs over his shoulder. “Hold on tight, love.” He teased before he slammed into you in one violent stroke.

Your eyes shot open, a helpless cry tearing your lips open as you looked at him, tears rimming your eyelids.

“Oh, what’s that?” He asked with a bastard’s grin on his face. “Is it so good that I’m gonna make you cry?” He slid out slowly, all the way to the tip, before his cock split you open again. “Go on and cry for it.” He sneered, his whole body getting lost into a hard and fast hammering inside you.

“Gguk, dammit, please. I wanna cum.” You cried out, your hand sliding between your legs.

He slowed down only to slap away your filthy fingers. “Gonna cum for this cock alone.” He said, angling his hips perfectly in that way that always drove you crazy. “Like the good slut you are for me.” He bent forward to your chest, biting the upper curve of your breast. “Make me feel your velvet cunt milk me dry.” He groaned, desperate. “I know you can do it, ____. You’re my little cockfairy.” He teased, so lost in the tightness and warmth of you that his tongue got that loose and reckless.

You simply started meeting his thrusts, your brow furrowing, while you looked at the muscles of his shoulders flex, his biceps tightening and relaxing with the effort, and the beatiful ink covering his upper arm, so alive with the movements.

He moved your other leg over his shoulder, sinking so deep inside you that your body snapped before you could even understand the fullness you were experimenting.

Your ears filled with a shrill screech, his face going from a series of tight lines — creased forehead, scrunched nose and wrinkled eyes — to relaxed planes, with his mouth opened wide, his lips so soft and temptingly red, his eyelids slowly fluttering close.

“Your pussy is a whole damn miracle.” He muttered against your soft breasts pillowing his head. “I wanna die inside it and go to pussy heaven.”

You tried to laugh as gently as possible while he rested on top of you, his cock still burrowed deep inside you. “I love you, silly bun.” You said, still a bit breathless.

“I’m sorry for the nasty words. You know I love you too.” He said, mouthing at your soft curves and sucking a bruise there.

“Cockfairy, uh?” You said, teasingly.

He giggled. “Shut up.”

“Never.” You replied. combing his hair out of his face.

He lifted his head with a raised eyebrow. “Then maybe I should feed you my cock and shut you up.”

Round two? Already? You were feeling spoiled. “Maybe you should.”

He grinned and slid out of you, slowly climbing up your body. “Open up, pretty doll.”

#jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jungkook drabble #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfiction #bts smut #bts blog #bts fic #bts fanfiction

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heyitssmiller · 3 years

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Clandestine: Chapter Thirteen

Fitting that this is chapter thirteen. It was destined to be unlucky. And it was also the hardest one to write by far. Thanks for being so patient with me. One last cliffhanger, yes? For old time’s sake.

@lumosinlove your characters continue to live in my head rent-free, so thank you!

@donttouchmycarrots is my dude, my pal, my babe, and the best proofreader ever

Special thanks to @wonder-womans-ex for providing what just might be my favorite line in this chapter

Clandestine Masterlist

CW: violence, gun violence, nightmares, anxiety, mentions of food, injuries

Logan woke up to Finn crying.

He was admittedly good at being quiet about it – he muffled any noise into his pillow, body turned towards the wall and curled up tight. It was the shaking that gave him away. Logan wasn’t sure what was going on at first, but his heart just about shattered when he realized. He rolled over to face Finn, pulling him gently into his arms and holding him close. His heart lurched as the redhead shuddered and buried his face in Logan’s chest, arms wrapping around him tightly as he sniffled. Logan screwed his eyes shut and breathed, nice and slow in an attempt to get Finn to match him. He wasn’t sure what was upsetting his partner, but he wanted nothing more than to fix it, to help however he could. Finn leaned further into him and stayed there for what felt like an eternity before he calmed down, breaths slowing and tears drying.

Logan could feel every swell of muscle, every gentle dip between his ribs, the eyelashes that were still wet and clumped together, the way his skin felt all clammy. He wished he could pull him even closer, hold him even tighter, even though there was physically no distance between them. Maybe Finn could find comfort in the confines of his arms, the way Logan had found safety in Finn’s.

“Want to talk about it?” he finally whispered, making Finn tense up again. He peered over Logan’s shoulder to look at their sleeping partner, then looked back down at Logan.

Sometimes Finn just took his breath away. Sure, his eyes were glassy and his nose was red from crying but he was still so beautiful, with muted light filtering through the curtains turning messy auburn hair into shiny copper, seeming to glitter in the sunlight. Big, brown doe eyes looking so incredibly soft as he stared down at Logan. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to being looked at like that. Like he was something to be cherished, something to be adored.

Logan felt his breath hitch.

“Hallway?” Finn asked, glancing back at Leo. “Don’t want to wake him up.”

Logan smiled. He loved learning how all three of them showed love and how it varied depending on which partner they were interacting with. Finn was more teasing with Logan, always throwing jabs and chasing them with happy grins and lots of kisses. With Leo he – well, he still teased mercilessly, but it was softer around the edges. The kind of affection that made him get all squinty-eyed because he was smiling so much and too-tight hugs because he couldn’t possibly hold back. Leo didn’t act that different when it came down to it, but he picked up quickly on what the two of them liked – intertwining his fingers with Finn’s as often as he could, running his hand through Logan’s hair time and time again. The constant motion of his hands was directed at the two of them instead of the lock in his pocket more often than not, a new soothing habit forming quickly. It was adorable. Logan wasn’t really sure how he was different, but he knew he was softer with the two of them more than he’d been with anyone else. He could feel himself turning into a sappy romantic and he wanted to hate it, but he really couldn’t.

Finn scrambled up reluctantly and Logan followed him across the room, nervous and itching to pull Finn back into his arms. He reached for Finn as soon as the door closed completely. “Bad dream?” His stomach dropped when Finn just nodded, biting down on his lip hard as his eyes welled up with tears again.

“I don’t want to go back there.” Finn admitted, voice a soft whisper in the silence of the hallway. Logan sighed and pressed closer, standing on his tiptoes just a little to loop his arms around Finn’s neck. Logan didn’t want to go back, either, but it was different for Finn. He’d been there for longer, after all, and Logan still wasn’t sure exactly what had happened during that time. Finn refused to talk about it, and Logan was too afraid to ask, as selfish as that made him feel. To top it all off, Logan had no idea how to help. Usually bad dreams were only loosely based on reality – but Logan had a feeling these were a little too real. They’d lived it, after all. To wake up from a nightmare and realize it was basically reality…

How could you comfort someone who’s bad dreams were all true?

“I know,” he said simply, lacking the words for anything else and running his fingers through Finn’s messy bedhead soothingly.

“We won’t be there for too long.” Finn said after a while. He seemed to be trying to comfort Logan with the words, even though he was the one who had been crying about it earlier. Logan ached for the redhead. He had such a big heart, always putting others before himself even if he was in a bad place himself. Logan needed to pay more attention, to pinpoint that evasion tactic and not let him get away with it. Everyone needed solace, even the ones who primarily did the comforting.

Finn’s eyes had closed sometime earlier, his head tilted to lean into Logan’s hand, his breath tickling the inside of Logan’s wrist. Logan wiped away a stray tear tenderly and sighed. Finn didn’t seem to want to talk about it. Logan wasn’t going to force him to talk, but he was worried about what would happen if he didn’t talk about it with someone. Sometimes it was nice to talk to someone with an outside perspective – someone who wasn’t in the thick of it like Logan was. So Logan reluctantly let it go for now and tried the next best thing: cheering Finn up.

“And it’ll be nice to bash some heads in while we’re there.”

That earned a laugh from Finn, and Logan felt such stark relief at the sight – it left him a little breathless. It was sad that a genuine laugh from either of his partners was so rare now. Logan felt like he needed to cherish them when they happened.

How depressing was that?

“Bashing some heads in is now on the list, I guess.” Finn murmured, placing a lingering kiss to Logan’s temple, who hummed thoughtfully.

“Do you even know how to throw a punch?”

Finn was in the process of kissing Logan when he said that, which just turned into a laugh against Logan’s lips. “No, but you do.” Logan could hear the smile in his voice. “And that’s way hotter than it probably should be.”

Logan looked up at him nervously to make sure he wasn’t kidding, then relaxed at the honesty in those mischievous eyes. Even upset and stressed, Finn somehow knew what to say to soothe worries Logan hadn’t even told him about. Being in a job like his… well it was ugly. It was brutal and violent and messy and not many people would want to be involved with someone like that – someone with bloodstained hands, too many paranoid tics, and a heavy, guilty conscience.

Finn and Leo didn’t seem to mind all that much, thankfully.

The realization made Logan grin sharply and nip at Finn’s lower lip before delving into another deep, intoxicating kiss. It was too easy, getting lost when he kissed Finn. So much of their surroundings faded away until all he was aware of was the feel of slightly chapped lips against his and hands holding his hips in order to pull him closer. Finn seemed to have that effect on Logan – he always had, ever since that New Years party. He was the kind of person everyone naturally gravitated towards, pulled in without a second thought. It was part of what made him so damn good at his job.

Finn breathed in sharply before kissing him again, heady and sure of himself and making Logan weak in the knees. All five senses were overwhelmed with Finn, Finn, Finn. It thrummed along with his pulse in a steady, loud rhythm. And yet his mind still drifted back to the bedroom with Leo, the thought of joining him back in bed tugging at him just as Finn broke the kiss and pulled him back towards the door, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Sometimes I’m convinced you’re a mind reader.” Logan smiled and willingly let himself get drawn back into the quiet, sleepy warmth of the bedroom. Finn just shrugged.

“Maybe I am.”

Leo was still sound asleep, sprawled out on his back with one leg sticking out from underneath the covers and hanging off the side of the bed at what looked like a very uncomfortable angle. Logan smiled at Finn’s affectionate snort, then followed him back to bed and crawled in the middle again. He curled up on his side, facing the blond as Finn pressed against his back and tangled their legs together. Leo’s hand moved up the bed, searching for Logan’s until he found it and then seemed to drift off to sleep again with a content sigh.

It scared Logan a little, how important the two of them had become in such a short amount of time. They were slowly invading more and more space in his head until his only thoughts seemed to be about them, all the time. Maybe it should be a little worrying, but Logan couldn’t find it in himself to be too concerned – not when the thoughts made his chest feel light as air and his stomach full of butterflies.

***

It was getting close to go-time, and everyone was on edge. The energy was palpable, like an electric current flowing through the group. Shoulders were tense, words were short and clipped, a sense of focus and determination in the air.

Leo had never been part of something like this. The only missions he’d been on were with Logan and Finn and that was it. Having a big group like this, all feeling the same things and wanting the same goal, it was intoxicating. It sucked you in and made you want to be a part of it, too.

But he couldn’t. He was stuck here, on the sidelines, left to wait aimlessly until everyone returned. That meant letting them go and resigning himself to a night of restlessness and worry.

Leo hated it.

He didn’t cling to his partners like he so desperately wanted to. If he did, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to let go again. He didn’t ask for empty promises of being careful, nor did he beg them to be safe. He couldn’t hold them to words they might not be able to keep. But he allowed himself to stare, just a bit. He let his eyes linger over Logan’s steady hands as he loaded his gun and methodically checked it three times, just like always. He watched Finn pull a clean shirt over his head and fiddle with the sleeves, seemingly lost in thought. Leo memorized what he could, just in case. The exact shade of Logan’s eyes, the freckle pattern across Finn’s cheeks and nose. He hated that his brain automatically jumped to worse-case scenario like that, but – well, considering the circumstances and what they’d already been through at the hands of the Snakes… could you blame him?

There was also this feeling in the pit of Leo’s stomach. He wasn’t sure if this was just the anxiety talking, but everything in that moment felt so decided, so final.

It felt like goodbye.

As if Finn knew exactly what was going on in his head, he drew Leo in for a hug and kissed his cheek, lingering for a second before leaning back to meet his eyes. They shared one of those looks – one that expressed a multitude of emotions without saying a single word. When Finn kissed him, it was deep and achingly slow. He was taking his time, wanting to make the moment last as long as he could. Leo knew the feeling. He fisted his hand in Finn’s shirt and pulled him impossibly closer, tilting his head for a better angle and softly running his tongue across the seam of his lips. A gentle rush, a quiet thrill, but still with a noticeable, tangible melancholy.

Leo could still count the number of kisses they’d shared on two hands. That wasn’t nearly enough for him. He wanted as many different types of kisses as he could think of – happy, teasing, soft, hard, tender, and everything in between. He wanted to lose count by the end of the week. He wanted to learn everything there was to know about his partners.

He just hoped they’d get that chance.

Logan pressed up against the two of them, slotting seamlessly into place. Transitioning from kissing Finn to kissing Logan was as easy as breathing – a simple turn of his head and a slight bend to accommodate for the height difference. It was the kind of kiss you were meant to remember. A whirlwind of sweet and passionate, deep and gentle, loving and regretful.

More than anything it just hurt.

Leo’s gut churned as he pulled back and looked at the two of them, lost for words. What was he supposed to say in a situation like this, after all? He didn’t think there was anything he could say to make this easier, or reassure them. Words didn’t seem like enough anymore – they just felt insincere and meaningless. Leo didn’t think he’d ever faced that problem before. Words usually came fairly easily to him, especially if something was important to him. But now they were failing him and it left him feeling even more lost, adrift in a raging sea that he had no idea how to navigate.

“Let’s do this,” Finn said finally, part resigned and part determined, before heading towards the bedroom door.

The rest seemed to happen all at once in a blinding flurry of activity. Goodbyes with the team were quick and rushed and then they were all loading up into cars, green and brown eyes meeting his every once in a while before the doors closed and the engines growled to life.

Leo watched the caravan of cars head down the driveway, then rushed across the wrap-around porch to keep them in his sights for as long as he could until they disappeared behind an outcropping of trees. He kept his eyes trained on the spot and clung to the wooden railing with a white-knuckled grip.

And that was where he would stay. If that was the last place he saw them, it would be the first place he would see them again. He didn’t care if he stood there all night until it bled into morning; he wasn’t moving an inch.

***

Sirius sat in the backseat next to Remus for the drive, which was silent and tense with rising adrenaline and battle plans running through everyone’s heads – especially Remus’. He could practically see his mind working. He’d been planning nonstop for the past two days to make sure that all the loose ends were tied up and that they were doing this the right way. Any illegal processes now could compromise the court trials that would come after putting the Snakes behind bars. Between that and coordinating between the other agencies that were helping them take down the Snakes, it was looking like a Herculean task. They could’ve pulled out the big guns and requested help from the FBI, but no one really wanted to do that. This was personal, after all – for pretty much everyone on the team. The feds could take over later, after everyone was apprehended.

Remus chewed at his lower lip, eyes trained on nothing in particular. The back of his head was highlighted in the headlights of the car behind them, illuminating in a startling contrast to the rest of the dark interior of the van. Sirius stared and stared until he just couldn’t help it. He reached over to turn Remus’ head towards him, then ran his thumb lightly over that abused lower lip until Remus let it go. Color seeped back into it, turning the pink a darker, cherry red. Again, Sirius stared. That mouth quirked into a teasing smile.

“You’re going to chew a hole in your lip if you keep that up.” He said and looked up into honey-colored eyes, slowly pulling his hand back. Remus just huffed under his breath – a short, nervous shadow of his normal laugh.

“Yeah. I could really go for some chapstick right now.”

Sirius smiled, pulling Remus towards him and kissing him gently, reverently. It still kind of blew his mind, how much things had changed in the past few months. Remus used to hate him. Well, maybe hate was a strong word, but they definitely weren’t friends. And now here they were, making out in the back of a van. Even though their mission was coming to an end and Sirius really wouldn’t have a reason to stay in Gryffindor any more, he could no longer fathom leaving. Remus played a huge part in that, of course, but Sirius also had friends now – real friends who didn’t try to use him constantly or only contacted him when they needed something. He had a home, as ridiculously cliché as that sounded. Nothing about Slytherin felt like this, and it made Sirius wonder if he’d ever actually had a place to call home before he found himself in Remus’ tiny apartment with the dying houseplant and the lumpy couch and an entire cabinet devoted solely to mugs.

The kiss turned softer until Sirius pulled back and just looked at him, an overwhelming rush of emotion in his chest. Remus wasn’t his home – one person couldn’t be all of that, Sirius knew that much – but he sure was a big part of it.

Remus licked his lips thoughtfully, tasting Sirius’ chapstick. “What flavor is that?”

“Pina colada.”

“Nice.”

That made Sirius smile again. “It’s going to be fine, Re.” Sirius reassured and tucked Remus against his side. It was an awkward squeeze in the back of a van, but neither of them cared.

“Yeah,” Remus sighed, sounding like he was trying to convince himself. “We’ll be ok.”

They both flew out of their seats a little when the van hit a pothole, smushing them closer together. Sirius pressed a kiss to his temple, soft and lingering, before speaking up again. “Do you want to talk through the plan once more?”

Sirius always found that talking through things helped calm him down. Saying the facts out loud tended to get rid of the unnecessary fears going on inside his head, plus it made him feel more prepared. And he knew Remus was the same way, from all the times he’d helped the analyst plan missions.

This earned him a soft, thankful smile and then Remus was off, talking a mile a minute about strategies and backup plans and anything else he could think of. Sirius let his voice wash over him and tried to ignore the dread settling in the pit of his stomach.

***

Leo didn’t know how long he stood there, gaze never once wavering from the treeline, when Hope joined him. She held out a mug for him, full of what looked like hot chocolate and a thick layer of whipped cream. Leo smiled faintly in thanks and took it before returning to his vigil. It was so quiet outside. No crickets like back home, no wind whistling through the trees, nothing. It set Leo on edge.

“So,” Hope mercifully interrupted the silence, “I heard you like to cook.”

Leo looked over at her, more than a little confused at the non sequitur. “Yeah. I do.”

She traced along the grain of the wooden railing, avoiding the chipping paint. “Those boys might be hungry when they get back, and that’s a whole lot of cooking to do by myself. Care to lend a hand?”

Leo snorted at the accidental pun and looked down at the hand trapped in a sling. He knew what she was doing, and he couldn’t find it in himself to be mad. He could definitely use the distraction.

“That sounds perfect.” He said and followed her inside, only casting one glance over his shoulder at where the driveway disappeared and the woods began before he joined Hope in the warm glow of the kitchen. Lyall and Jules were there too; they had the refrigerator door thrown open and seemed to just be staring at the contents. They looked so alike, standing side by side like that. The same slightly-bowed legs and identical shades of brown hair. Lyall gave his son a mischievous look, reached for the can of whipped cream, and squirted some directly into his mouth while Jules watched on with his jaw nearly on the floor.

“I didn’t know we were allowed to do that!” he gasped and snatched the can from his dad. A few seconds later there was whipped cream in his mouth. And on his chin, cheeks, a little on his nose…

Hope sighed good-naturedly. “You’re teaching our son bad habits and making a mess.”

Lyall just bent over laughing, a snort escaping every once in a while.

Leo smiled as Jules tried to get all the whipped cream that missed his intended target with his tongue, eyes crossing in the process. He took a sip of his hot chocolate and leaned back against the kitchen counter as Lyall kept pointing to places on his face that Jules had missed. Hope shared a look with Leo and rolled her eyes in a “what can you do?” kind of gesture. It was all so lighthearted and affectionate and exactly what Leo needed in that moment.

He wondered if Hope somehow just knew these things – it was definitely possible. Mother’s intuition and all.

“So what are we making?” She asked, tying her hair up while Lyall threw an apron over his neck. Jules was still working on the whipped cream.

Leo shrugged his good shoulder. “What do you have in the pantry?”

“So much!” Jules exclaimed, deeming his face good enough and throwing the pantry door open. “We’ve got pancake mix, potato chips, poptarts, hot dog buns-”

***

The take-down mission was going about as well as expected.

Which meant that it was going well, but it was also a chaotic disaster at the same time. Fitting, right?

Agents were everywhere, it seemed, outnumbering the Snakes at least three-to-one. The Snakes were scattering, running for the exits and fighting tooth and nail to get out – whether that was with weapons they had or just their fists, they weren’t going down without a fight. But even if they made it out, they were met with another line of defense waiting for them in the form of the Durmstrang agents.

Remus really had the op planned out to the last contingency, it seemed.

Logan and Finn were headed down an unfamiliar hallway, looking for stragglers to round up and escort outside. Most Snakes had joined the main fight to get out, sequestered in the entryway. Logan was glad they were tasked with this, though. There were too many familiar faces back there – Greyback, Lestrange, Snape. Logan wasn’t sure he was quite ready for that just yet. Between that and the sound of gunshots echoing in his head… well, let’s just say it brought back bad memories. And even though it wasn’t the best utilization of his skillset, he hadn’t been separated from his partner. He’d learned from experience what a bad idea that was. When this was all over, he wasn’t letting the two of them out of his sight for at least a week.

God, he couldn’t wait for this to be over.

Movement caught his eye and his gun was instantly up and aimed at the person. Yellow eyes landed on them and Logan held his breath, every muscle tensing and adrenaline spiking.

Logan knew they had direct orders to bring the Snakes in alive, but it was much harder to think about that when he was staring Riddle down from the sights of his gun. He knew exactly where to aim – he’d seen it mapped out on Leo’s chest, memorized the angry red wound contrasting against the gentle slope of his collarbone. A shot not intended to kill, but to inflict unfathomable levels of pain – another thing Logan had branded into his memory. A shot that was intentional, designed to send a message. And Logan definitely wanted to send back a reply.

Riddle recognized them and got this smug gleam in his eyes. “Long time, no see.”

Logan’s finger twitched against the trigger.

“Trust me, we’re planning on never seeing you again.” Finn said, then sighed dramatically. “And it looks like that dream is going to become a reality, since we’ve got all the evidence we need to lock you up for – what do you think, Logan? Two life sentences?”

“I’m banking on three.”

“But it’s not really up to us, now is it?” Finn shrugged. “If it were, I think you’d be dead by now, so I guess we’ll have to wait and see what the judge says.”

Riddle still looked remarkably calm. And it was that ego, that sense of infallibility that ended up being his downfall. “All the evidence you have is circumstantial. Any decent lawyer can get those charges dismissed.”

“Sure.” Finn’s smile turned lethal, knowing he had Riddle right where he wanted him, ready to deliver the final blow and relish in the aftermath. “But I think all that detailed information on the flash drives can put you away for a long time. Why seven flash drives, by the way? Lucky number?”

Riddle’s smile faded in increments as the realization struck. “That’s not possible.”

“Oh, it’s very possible. You can thank the guy you shot for that.” Finn said darkly. They watched the gears turning in Riddle’s head, then the way his face turned from pale to a sickly green. His hand went to the inside pocket of his jacket where his flash drive used to be – where the fake one now was, switched when Riddle had pulled a bleeding, agonized Leo close to taunt Logan and Finn through his microphone.

Yeah. Karma was a real bitch sometimes.

Logan smiled, grim but glad to finally be putting this guy behind bars. “You’re coming with us.”

***

“Yo,” Pots said into a phone, a grin almost too wide on his face, “we got some stinky bastards over here. Can you come get them please and thank you?”

Remus snorted at his antics, no doubt talking to the FBI since processing criminals was in their jurisdiction now and not Gryffindor’s. He almost wished it was on speaker phone – he would’ve loved to hear their response.

Remus found Sirius waiting in the parking lot, watching all the Snakes get corralled into transport vehicles and taken to whichever prison they were being kept in until the trial. Some of their own agents were by the ambulance getting tended to, but there weren’t any serious injuries, thank god. Talker took a superficial gunshot to the thigh and Kuny’s arm got grazed by a bullet but everyone else was fine. The element of surprise and the backup by the other agencies really did wonders. That and the fact that they were all armed to the teeth and not even thinking about leaving this job unfinished. They had a pretty good reason to win this round, after all.

He couldn’t believe it was all over. This mission had taken months and lead to way too many problems, but they were finally done with it. They could finally move on. Remus was thinking of taking the next week off of work and spending it at the cabin, just him and Sirius. A much-needed vacation sounded like a dream right about now.

Sirius’ back was to him, but he heard Remus coming and didn’t flinch when long arms wrapped around him, tight and secure. He leaned back into the familiar warmth behind him and let himself be held. He’d been great in there. Remus had been a little worried about letting him come, afraid that taking down people he’d worked with for years would be too hard for him or – even worse – that his presence would be a bright red bullseye for the Snakes. Luckily, there had been so many other agents and so much chaos that most of them had only noticed Sirius and Regulus in the aftermath, when it was too late to do anything about it.

“We did it.” Remus murmured, letting go and stepping around to gauge Sirius’ reaction. The raven-haired ex-Snake smiled at him, a hint of something warring with the relief on his face.

“We did.” He finally said, eyes flitting from Remus to the action around them. He still looked a little uneasy, after everything. Remus couldn’t blame him – sometimes it took a while for the adrenaline to wear off and for reality to set in. “Doesn’t feel real just yet.”

Remus grinned wolfishly, letting the victorious feeling wash over him. “It’s real.”

“Sirius Black?” One of the other agents inquired, causing the man in question to turn around.

“Yes?”

The agent pulled out a pair of handcuffs, looking very bored of the current situation. “You’re under arrest for the crimes you committed with the Snakes organization. If you could put your hands behind your back-”

Remus stepped forward aggressively, staring the agent down. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The agent didn’t flinch. “Following orders. Even if he quit the Snakes, he’s still got to answer for what he did during his time there.”

“But he’s helping us – he’s a consultant for our agency. He’s got immunity.” Remus looked between Sirius and the agent, running a hand agitatedly through his hair at the blasé attitude of the agent.

“Take it up with my boss.”

It was all happening so fast. Remus was still reeling from the mission, his brain struggling to keep up with the new situation. The agent started to lead Sirius away when Remus shouted, “Wait!” He hurried to stand in front of Sirius, caramel eyes hard and fierce and determined with an underlying blaze to them as they met silver. He didn’t care if he was making a scene; he didn’t care who was watching. The only thing that mattered was the man standing in front of him, eyes resigned and – unsurprised.

He knew this might happen. And he hadn’t said a word about it. He came on this mission willingly, knowing this was the way it could end.

Remus would have to come back to that.

“I’m going to fix this. Ok?” Remus met his gaze firmly, letting the honesty drip from his words.

The ex-Snake nodded quickly, trustingly. The sight was a little nauseating, because what if there was nothing Remus could do? Sirius was counting on him now; he couldn’t stand the thought of letting him down, not when he was looking at Remus like that – like Remus could fix anything, when Remus knew damn well that he couldn’t. His chest seized up and he held his breath, gritting his teeth resolutely. He’d find a way. He had to.

Sirius was loaded into the back of a car, his brother already cuffed and waiting in the seat beside him – no doubt being charged for the same thing. Their faces were stony masks, tense and unreadable.

From the next car over, Riddle watched with a smile.

#lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast #coops #sirius black #remus lupin #o'knutzy #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #clandestine #cw: violence #cw: gun violence #cw: nightmares #cw: anxiety #cw: food #cw: injury

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funtimebunnyblog · 3 years

Text

Nobody really asked for this but uhhh... I kind of needed it 😶😇😂 Please excuse me for being self indulgent for this one time! ❤❤❤ But most of all, please enjoy! 😘

The Pillarmen (separate) with an s/o on their Period...

(Under the cut for length!)

(Warning! This contains content all surrounding a Woman's menstruation cycle and all the absolute joys that come with it 🙃 like: graphic descriptions of pain and blood, more blood and lots of blood. Viewer discretion advised! In other words, you have been warned...)

Kars:

• Chances are, Kars will always be long prepared for your periods monthly arrival.

• Even in the time when you were first getting to know each other, he picked up on your cycle patterns quickly.

• The first time you confided to him you were on your period he was prepared then too, pulling out a fresh pack of pads for you seemingly out of nowhere.

• The way you reacted, he'd swore he had just pulled a rabbit out of a hat.

• From then on he knows exactly when it will happen, he's done all the calculations and has the date marked on his desk calendar.

• When the day comes, he'll have a box of stuff already waiting for you by the bed; a hot waterbottle, some chocolate, pads/tampons, a bottle of Motrin, you name it.

• It's no surprise that even if you happen to be late or early he'll still be prepared; heck, he'll take one look at you and know.

• If you're cramping or feeling bloated and icky he knows some good teas to help you with that too.

• Kars is also prepared for the emotional and intensive side of things when you're undergoing your cycle.

☆

The door creaked open quietly, a tendril of light cutting through the dark as the wrapped head of Kars poked into the room, ruby eyes settling on the lumpy form quivering under the pile of blankets covering the bed.

He had heard you crying from the hallway one his way back to his Office.

The Pillarman's lips came together, however, he didn't hesitate for a moment as he stepped further into the room. "My dear," he spoke, approaching the bed. Your shaking form visibly tensed right up. It was obvious you hadn't even heard him come in. "Is your back giving you grief again?"

You had started just a day ago and of course things were carrying out as usual; cravings, back pain, nausea, all things he expected.

What he didn't expect was your answer, which was a wet sob, words muffled as the blankets moved; a shake of the head was his only coherent response.

He only frowned, the bed dipping with a low creak as he sat down on the very edge right at your back where you laid curled on on yourself under the covers.

"Your stomach then? You feel nauseous, is that it?" He pressed.

Another shake of the head, his sharp ears strained to hear the watery response from underneath the thick layer of blankets, leaving Kars with no choice but to finally peel away the barrier covers between you and him. Your very red and very wet face was finally revealed to him, your lips knotted and quivering as you sniffled.

Your state was only worrying him further, it was plainly obvious you had been crying for some time and on top of things, you weren't even looking at him.

There was an unmistakably guilty look to your watery expression.

"What is it then?" He asked, a huge hand plucking the stray hair from your soaked cheeks and eyes. "What's wrong? I need you to talk to me, dear."

His pressing only made the tears come much harder, his hands instinctively going to your back and rubbing softly.

"I'm sorry, Kars..." came the staccatic whimper.

He blinked twice, "For what?"

"I ruined the sheets!" You cried, hugging yourself tighter. "I... I laid down because--because my back was hurting again and I f-fell asleep and when I woke up it was just... all over the place!"

Your Husband listened to you quietly, suddenly coming to the realization that the bed had indeed been stripped of the sheets beneath the blankets; you were only laying (probably not very comfortably) on the thin white plastic mattress cover. His eyes drifted to the far corner of the room where the ruined fitted sheet and the thin matching over sheet had been simply balled up into a big lumpy wad and thrown there.

"You ruined your pants as well then," he hummed, remembering that you had been wearing a particular pair; your favourite fuzzy lounging pants with the stars on them.

A nod was his only response this time.

Kars let out a sigh, leaning down to lay his head on your shoulder. "Oh, my sunshine, it's alright. We have plenty of sheets, one ruined cover is nothing to me."

"I--"

"I know you didn't mean to." He cut you off, already knowing what you were going to say, his gentle ministrations unceasing. "It was an accident, I would not expect you to have control over something like this. These things happen. We can always get new sheets and buy you more pants and undergarments."

It relieved you to know he wasn't upset with you over this, or worse disgusted by the prospect of your mess, and you found yourself letting out a shakey breath you didn't know you had been holding.

The covers peeled away and you nearly yelped as you were suddenly hoisted into his arms, the Pillarman carrying you right out of the room without another word.

"Wh-What are you doing?" You squeaked, your confusion making the remainder of your tears ebb a little more.

"I'm taking you to get cleaned up." He answered without missing a beat. "No doubt you're probably still soiled, so you're going to take a nice hot shower. I'll leave you some fresh clothes and replace the sheets while you're in there and then we can crawl into bed and watch that program you like."

"I-- I thought you had work to do tonight." You said, watching him owl eyed as he set you down gently on the toilet and began to putter around the bathroom, pulling towels down from the cupboard and turning the shower on.

He hummed, "Oh, my work can wait until the morrow. My duties as your Mate come first, you know."

You felt a quivering smile tugging at your lips as he peered over his shoulder with a soft smile, cocking an eyebrow at you.

Kars was undoubtedly the only one in your life who could sweep up the shattered remains of a problem and fabricate it into something treasured.

He was the only one who made a this week out of every month truly bearable.

Esidisi:

• Growing up, Esidisi had been around the Women of his tribe and his Family a lot.

• He's definitely prepared for something like this and even upon first getting to know him, you could talk to him openly about it.

• These kinds of things don't faze him in the slightest; you're a Woman and as long as you're healthy there was no issue.

• Esidisi will almost always be able to tell whenever your monthly cycle is approaching, being an intuitive man and all.

• He knows your behaviors and habits and he can easily spot your telltale signs leading to your period, like: any erratic sleep patterns, a shift in your overall mood, your eating habits taking a sudden change, any ofd facial acne popping up, etc.

• He'll definitely be prepared for the day it does hit because he makes sure to go out and do all the necessary shopping prior.

• When your period does hit, it basically hits both of you.

• If you get emotional, he gets emotional; when you're in pain, he's in pain.

• Half of the ordeal might just consist of both of you crying and holding each other.

• The other half of it consists of him doing his very best to help you feel better and alleviate any discomfort you happen to feel.

• However... his methods in doing so are very unconventional.

☆

You did your very best to lay still as the calloused pad of a thumb swiped along bare skin, just under your navel, where you lay; leaving not only a trail of paint but a ticklish sensation that nearly made you giggle.

However, it was easy not to laugh while feeling nothing but waves of uncertainty and mild irritation rolling over you amidst all this.

The deep timber of Esidisi's voice thrumming out the tones of a mantra in some language you couldn't identify did little to comfort you as you laid there before him on the bed. You were dressed only in your underclothes and already painted with several other sigils along your body as he finished the one directly over your womb.

The room was dark, save for the light of two candles, one at each bedside table, allowing you to see him partially where he stood over you in the shadows.

His eyes, normally two sapphires glimmering, shined like rubies in the dark; animalistic and a reminder that he was something indeed inhuman.

You weren't really one to believe in rituals, especially not while you had some Motrin in a bottle downstairs that would fix up your prediciment just fine, but your Husband insisted on this instead.

You were starting to regret telling him you were still cramping with every sigil he drew and every stone and flower placed particularly around and over you.

"Esidisi," You whined. "Is this really necessary?"

The Pillarman's rythmic chanting fell to an abrupt halt at your words, his eyes fell on you incredulously.

"Of course this is necessary!" He cried. "You want the pain to stop, don't you?"

You grimaced, "Well, yes, but I just think this is..." teeth dug hard into your lower lip as your Mates brow came together, full lips twisting and arms folding over his chest as his gaze burned holes into you, awaiting the end to that sentence.

What could you possibly say that wouldn't hurt his feelings?

That is was a bunch of hoo-hah?

That he didn't know what he was doing or how a Women's body worked?

That the ancient medicine of his people that he was still using was something long outgrown in today's society?

That it most definitely wouldn't work and it was a waste of time?

"This is, what?" He pressed, chin raising as his foot began to tap quietly on the floor.

You could feel sweat sticking uncomfortably to your skin, or perhaps that was just you suddenly becoming increasingly aware of the feeling of the oil on your body he had slathered you with prior, as you fumbled to finish.

"Er... that is is... a little.... much?"

A bare brow cocked as he echoed you. "Much?"

"Well, I mean, you've painted at least 13 symbols on me now and you've smudged the air with so much sage my head hurts and the crystals and the flowers and... just the whole shebang here..." your hand went up to guesture to everything that was laid out, things both on you and on him.

His attire was something close to ridiculous in your eyes; he was even more naked than usual! Dressed in nothing but feathers covering his nether region and his usual hat, he stood before you covered in swirls of orange paint all along his body rather than just his cheeks.

"Isn't this just a little much?" You asked, unable to stop the frown from tugging on your lips.

Esidisi blinked owlishly, "Well, how else am I supposed to banish the evil spirits from your uterus and alleviate your pain?"

It had greatly surprised (and upset) him to find that the medicines and practices he was weaned on as a child had faded away into non-existence along with the name of his people.

Apart from Kars, who had taken to (ugh) more "modern" practices with those placebos and chemicals made in labratories, there didn't seem to be a soul out there who knew how to properly do these things!

Esidisi wasn't going to let you suffer or be harmed in any way shape or form, not when he knew how to stop it. He had learned early on how to cleanse the womb and heal it of any harmful curses or diseases that would happen to plague you. His Grandmother had been the one who had taught him and he had spent his youth putting them to much practice.

If you thought that this was much, you were definitely going to be in for a surprise for when you became pregnant one day; he planned to preform regular hour long sessions daily then.

You couldn't stop yourself from sighing, a hand reaching up to give a light slap to your cheek as you groaned.

You would just have to explain to him what really caused all the pain of menstruation. "Honey, there's no evil spirits--"

A finger pressed to your lips, stalling anymore words from falling from them. "Shh, beloved. You mustn't keep disrupting the ritual." The man chided softly, leaning down to press a dotting kiss to your brow as he swiped the final line of paint over it. "Now just lay there and let me handle this. Trust me, you'll feel better in no time."

Your lips turned downward as you watched him step back to fetch his singing bowl, sighing softly to yourself as you adjusted the bouquet of herbs and flowers that he had pushed into your hands.

It was hard to get comfortable when you could feel the mint leaves he had scattered in your hair scratching against your scalp and the orange peeling he had stuffed it on your bra was an entirely different matter all together.

You supposed that somehow it could've been worse and you had to be content that this was relatively harmless all in all.

At least the hollow ring of the singing bowl and the continuation of his mantra would put you to sleep while he carried out the rest of this ritual...

Wamuu:

• Admittedly, Wamuu knew very little on the concept of Women and their monthly cycles; until you came along into his life that was.

• He knew how it worked of course and that it indeed happened but embarrassingly, he had sort of... forgotten about it in a way.

• Really, you supposed you couldn't blame him. This wasn't exactly something that was part of his everyday life, growing up with only 3 other Males the majority of it.

• The first time he happened to smell blood off you, it sent him into a panic and he immediately thought that you were hiding an injury from him; demanding to know where it was so he could treat it.

• Embarrassed, you tried to be discreet and prod him gently in the direction of what was happening. However, every code word for it just seemed to fly over his head; inevitably confusing him further.

• "It's high tide." "What? Beloved, we do not live by the ocean." "Er... the blood moon has risen?" "The blood moon isn't supposed to appear for another few months. And it is daytime, beloved." "Uhh... It's shark week?" "Why are you talking about a T.V. program at a time like this?"

• Finally, after a long, LONG session of going back and forth like that, you had no choice but to scream that you were on your period.

• Wamuu's beat red face and his impossibly huge eyes will be an image forever burned into your brain.

• After that, even though he wasn't exactly an expert on such matters, Wamuu did his best to at least be attentive to your needs.

• He does his best to understand your patterns and the entirety of what exactly you go through.

• He's always checking in on you every so often, sheepishly asking if you're feeling ok or if you need anything.

• Just say the word and He'll get you pads or food or water, perhaps even a distraction like a movie...

☆

The wet sounds of sniffling hitting his eardrums was what caused Wamuu to be roused from his deep and comfortable sleep, the Warrior blinking in the dark of the room and instinctively raising his head to locate the source.

"Beloved," He breathed, eyes falling onto your form. You were also awake, your back to him and sitting on the edge of the bed, curled in on yourself. His lips fell into a frown as you continued to sniffle, now trying to stiffle the sound upon realizing that he too was awake now.

Wamuu slowly pulled himself up into a sitting position, "what's wrong? Why are you awake?"

It was still the dead of night, just a little past 1AM, he couldn't think of a reason for you to be awake and crying other than the possibility of you having a nightmare.

" 's nothing..." you hiccuped, scrubbing your eye. "Go back to sleep."

His frown only deepened, scooting across the bed to get closer to you. "No. What is it? What has you so upset?" He pressed, an arm encircling around your quivering form. "Did you have a nightmare?"

A particularly harsh sob cut through you as you shook your head, burying your face in your hands as if trying to hide from him, "No! Go back to sleep!"

Chartreuse eyes softened considerably, the massive man only hugging you closer to his body as he chose to press further.

"If it's not a nightmare than what is it?"

"Oh, you'll laugh!" came the moan.

"I will not laugh." He replied, quite matter of factly.

"You'll--... You'll be angry!"

His brow knitted together sternly, one huge and warm hand wrapping around your much smaller one, uncaring of the fact it was wet with tears.

"I will not be angry. Please, just tell me why you are awake and crying, my love."

You fell silent, save for the staccato of your hiccupped breaths, Wamuu waited with all the patience in the world.

"I--" you paused, swallowing thickly. Your expression contorted in an almost painful manor, a hand slamming over your eyes as you only began to sob harder than before. "--I want... CHICKEN NUGGETS!"

The Pillarman blinked in surprise, that confession had completely taken him off guard. You were crying over food of all things? At 1 o'clock in the morning?

Realization washed over him, making him frown deeper for only a second as he suddenly remembered the fact that you had started your monthly menstrual cycle yesterday evening.

You must've woken up craving and hurting, of course those things would drive you to cry helplessly like so.

If anything, the Warrior was relieved it was nothing serious.

Wamuu smiled softly, only hugging you tighter to him. "Will chicken nuggets get you to stop crying?" He asked softly, carding his fingers gently through your awry bed-head hair.

You coughed, sniffling as your whimpered response rose up from your throat painfully. "Yeah,"

He nodded, "Alright. How many do you want and what kind?"

You sniffed a few times, managing to calm down enough to tell him what would suffice enough to satisfy your hankering. Wamuu pulled on a simple hoodie and some pants as you talked, he even asked you if you wanted to come with him but you declined, not really in the mood to go very far.

He put the Television on for you, turning it on to a program and kissed your head, telling you he'd be back with an order of nuggets, a drink you liked and perhaps something sweet to enjoy after.

You felt guilty for troubling him with something like this, it was even worse that it was at an ungodly hour in the morning but Wamuu didn't care about those things, what mattered to him was your comfort, your happiness and your needs met...

Santana:

• Much like Wamuu, Santana isn't very much educated on the subject of menstruation and your cycles when first getting to know you.

• However, he could tell immediately that something was happening to you even before your cycle started.

• He mentioned that you had a stronger smell to him, like your hormones were given a signifigant boost. He claimed he could also see that you looked a little softer somehow.

• After sitting him down (a little embarrassed) and explaining to him what was going to happen soon, the dots connected for him and he understood.

• You were his Mate afterall and he followed his natural instincts to care and provide for you.

• He doesn't really like letting you out of his sight when it does happen, preferring to keep you close to him and he'll help you out in any way you need.

• You have to be specific with him though. If you send him to the store telling him that you need tampons, he might just come back with the entire isle of boxes in tow.

• This whole thing is always a learning experience to him, even though he can't undergo the same thing he does his best to understand and at least be attentive.

☆

"Oh c'mon..." you groaned, practically begging now as you curled in on yourself on the bed. "Kick in already!"

You had taken that Motrin over 10 minutes ago and still nothing was happening, your back was still aching and your stomach was cramping.

It was impossible for you to move now, you had laid down and there was no way in Hell you were going to get up again until all the pain was gone.

However, you were very much regretting not having the foresight to grab your heating pad on the way here, at least with that it would make it bearable but alas, it was all the way downstairs.

You couldn't even get up without fear of fainting or worse; ruining your pants.

Another wave of nausea shot through your gut, curling up in an icky tendril to your throat straight from the pit of your hurting stomach. All you could do was try to breathe; breathe, ride out the pain, hope it would be over soon and try not to vomit because of it.

A litany of begging was now falling through your lips like a prayer, pleading for anyone or anything listening to make it stop. Tears were beading at the corners of your eyes threatening to fall as your spine felt like it was being twisted, rung out like one would a wet rag.

"Please, please, please stop." You grit, hands turning to fists. "Please, please make it stop."

Little did you know your pleas didn't go unheard.

Santana watched you from the doorway where you couldn't see him, peering in with a thoughtful frown and a tilt of his head. Each quiet moan and whimper made his hands instinctively grip the door tighter, fingers digging harshly into the wood.

You were having a hard time. You were in a lot of pain and he hated to see you as such.

With only a moments thought, the Pillarman knew what he had to do, taking off quickly down the stairs; his feet barely making a sound on the steps.

Your back was hurting, he could see it in the way you kept trying to roll onto it. You used a strange device to help, one that emanated heat with a click of a button. His eyes scanned the living room for the familiar blue fabric with the white chord.

He snatched it off the couch, tucking it under his arm as he went into the kitchen next, finding himself opening and closing cupboards and doors without really knowing what he was looking for this time.

You had already taken one of those pills and he was certain you said something before about having to wait a couple of hours before you took another so that was out of the question.

The bright colours of your waterbottle sitting all by itself on the kitchen counter caught his eye. He didn't know how long you would be up there resting so maybe it was best to put it by your bedside for when you needed it. He also grabbed a couple of snacks from the cupboard, simple wrapped treats you enjoyed here and there.

He put the bottle under the tap, making sure to only stop until it was filled right under the brim with cold water.

Water... hot water. The red-head blinked, humming softly to himself as the gears turned in his head.

Your stomach had been obviously giving you grief as well, it didn't go unnoticed by him that you were clutching it; trying to curl in on yourself. You had something you used to help that too, he had seen you fill it up a few times before.

Waterbottle and heating pad under arm and snacks clutched to his chest, he went back upstairs. He went right past your room and straight into the bathroom, prying open the closet and digging around for the strange rubbery sack he could clearly see in his memories.

He pulled it out triumphantly, the object limp in his grasp like a pelt as he turned on the tap. He waited until the water was hot enough to make steam rise up from the sink before plunging it under to fill and corking it.

His arms now completely full, he shuffled back to your room with the goods; pleased his little scavenger hunt was successful.

There you lay, right where he had left you; from the look of it you definitely hadn't improved.

You were so consumed with your own discomfort you didn't even hear him or see him.

Santana approached the bed quietly, setting the waterbottles (both hot and cold) down on the nighttable with the snacks before fumbling with the heating pad, plugging it into the wall.

The massive hand being laid on your side startled you somewhat, eyes popping open with a shudder before being greeted with the sight of your one and only Mate standing over you at the bedside with a frown.

"Roll over." Came the quiet command, his hand pushing you further onto your side and slipping something familiar underneath you before easing you onto your back again.

"Santana, wha--" was all you could manage out.

Santana clicked it onto the medium setting, reaching for the hot-waterbottle next and holding it up for you to see. He draped the wiggly rubber sack over your stomach, an audible "bloop!" sounding from inside as your arms instinctively curled around it with a sigh; already relishing in its warmth.

The bed dipped as he crawled in next to you, the Pillarmen kindly pulling the blankets up around you both as he curled into your side protectively.

You could feel the heat seeping slowly into your back, the pain starting to ebb somewhat and the heated weight over your stomach was soothing; it all left you near to deliriously blissful.

You realized belatedly that he had brought you all of these things without you even having to ask, you turned your head with a sleepy smile, meeting the gaze of the red-head. He was so sweet you swore at times your heart would melt.

A hand reached up to tangle in his mane of wild hair, "Thank you, honey..."

The Pillarman nuzzled into your neck, almost purring at the gentle touch. He had made you better and that was enough to leave him content for now.

"I will always take care of you, my Mate..." he murmured, smiling softly as you closed your eyes and slowly fell asleep. It wasn't long after that he did the very same...

#funnybunny #pillarmen #kars #esidisi #wamuu #santana #pillarmen headcanons #kars x reader #esidisi x reader #wamuu x reader #santana x reader #my writing

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ringmyheart · 3 years

Note

Heyy, hope I'm not being annoying with so many asks, but could I please get ice feet of death characters of your choice? Thank you so much 😘😍😘🤩😘😍😘

Eli Jang

Eli Jang wasn’t going to push people important to him away anymore - or ever again.

In his past, he’d seen what that had done for him, and it ended disastrous. He wouldn’t keep people at an arms length away anymore, especially people precious to him, and especially not you.

Such an earnest and well meant swear to himself was extremely hard to keep up with, however, when you were besides him and your feet happened to brush against his calf. Feet as cold as fucking ice.

His hand was planted in the middle of your chest, keeping you ironically enough an arms length away from him. When you’d crawled into bed that night, before you could even go under the covers, his hand had shot out and kept you suspended exactly where you were - and you swore you saw a flash of fear in his eyes.

“...”

You both looked at each other, you perplexed and him worried - of what, you couldn’t say. Cocking a brow, you asked, “is something wrong? Eli?”

He swallowed down a lump in his throat, before removing his hand and returning it to his side. Internally, he hoped you wouldn’t come too much closer. Or at the least, that you’d sleep with your legs bent so he wouldn’t be subjected to the cold with you. He wondered if you were even aware of this…

“No, nothing’s wrong!” He forced a laughed, though no joy reached his eyes; rather, a pained emotion swirled in them.

‘I can’t take another night like this!’

And when you shrugged off his odd behavior and continued settling under the covers, he acted quick. Maybe he could somehow cure this.

“H-hey, it’s winter, and it’s cold.” He lifted himself up with his elbows from the bed and grabbed you by the shoulders spontaneously, steering you to the bathroom. “Why don’t you take a bath?! Since it’s so cold!”

You let him lead you the way there and push you along, confused. “Uh-?”

Sending a skeptical look over your shoulder to Eli, he felt somewhat guilty for suddenly forcing you away. But when he recalled the icy horror he’d be introduced to if he didn’t try and fix it instead, he pushed on - for his well-being as well as yours.

He sent you a smile. “I wouldn’t want you to catch a cold!”

“...” Silence engulfed the two of you before you smiled back. “Aww, that’s sweet. Okay. Don’t worry, I won’t use all the hot water.”

“Please do.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He smiled stupidly, waving you bye while you walked into the bathroom. “Also, make sure your feet are in there.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

When he heard the bath water begin to run, a wave of relief washed over him. Even if the water didn’t permanently cure your case of cold-feet, it’d at least take care of it for a while, right? And then he could sleep comfortably with you tonight, right?

When you were eventually done with the bath and had put clothes back on, you began to crawl back onto bed, getting comfortable as soon as you pulled the sheets over you. He wondered if it’d worked. He could feel heat radiate off of you from his side, and when you shuffled, the side of your heel brushed against his ankle briefly before it was gone in a second.

In that second, it felt like he’d tasted death - and it was freezing.

‘That didn’t work?!’ The top row of his teeth crushed against the bottom row in a quick act of brain storming. He shot up where he sat, catching your attention from how abruptly he’d pulled himself up, and he looked at you. His eyes darted back and forth in thought, before an imaginary lightbulb seemed to light over his head.

“Man, it’s cold tonight, huh?” He said causally, with a fake shiver. You shifted your gaze upwards, thinking for a moment.

“... I’m not that cold, to be hone-“

“You know when people get a really bad cold they actually feel warm?!”

You stared up at him with wide, doe eyes, and he continued passionately. “I don’t want you to be cold! Here, I’ll get you another blanket!”

He sprinted out of the room temporarily, and you stared at him with an indecipherable expression, a few dark lines falling down the top of your face. You just wanted to sleep…

He came back with a wide smile spread across his lips, a blanket in his hands. Holding one corner in each of his hands, he gestured it to you like a car dealer trying to sell a client a car they didn’t really want. “Here!”

He lifted the overs you already had on you, the one the both of you shared, and began to lay the other blanket over you. You remained still, but your features hardened.

“Uhh… why not just put the blanket over the top of the blanket I already have…?”

“Hm?”

His face blanched. If you squinted hard enough, you could almost see a question make appear on the side of his head, and he still smiled - like he was suddenly frozen in that position, and his ability to express other emotions came to a halt. This masked whatever was going on inside his head, and you looked at him with scrutinizing eyes.

“Because I wanted to tuck you in!” His smile widened, and you sighed when he suddenly began tucking the corners of the blanket underneath you. He spent half of the time he spent doing this around your feet, you noticed.

When he was done, he brushed his hands together, like he was admiring his own handiwork. If your feet were covered by a blanket, you could sleep together and he wouldn’t feel the glaciers at the ends of your legs, right?

The plan felt foolproof this time, and the bed dipped underneath his weight until he laid down and got into a position he could remain in. You examined him before shrugging this weird interaction off - again.

“Okay, well… I’m gonna go to sleep.”

He nodded. “Okay, babe. Good night.”

“...” Waiting to see if he was gonna interrupt your trip to dreamland again with some weird request or offer, you curled into his side after an appropriate amount of time passed. Enough time for you to decide he probably was done with his odd behavior.

You miscalculated.

And so did he.

His teeth gritted together, and it felt like he’d come to a horrible realization, a clap of thunder and lightning striking behind him at his moment of mental clarity and terror. ‘Even when under another blanket, their feet are below zero degrees?!’

The already cold weather certainly wasn’t helping, and he was prepared to research webMD to see if cold feet were ever fatal enough to kill you, when another thought rang in his head.

‘Why not just tell them?’

He quickly shook it out of his head. He wouldn’t push you away. He wouldn’t hurt your feelings.

Even at his own expense.

You were shaken awake violently when Eli suddenly suggested the amazing idea of putting heat packs on your feet to keep you safe for the winter night, and you internally groaned for a world-record amount of time. When he’d put the packs on your feet, it was another failed attempt; rather than heating you up, you’d chilled them down. It was like carrying two packs of ice when he went to put them away.

He’d even turned up the AC to see if maybe that would unthaw your feet, but it was fruitless; and it felt like he saw the light when your feet touched his again, and they were like a visit to the Arctic.

Now, not only did he have freezing feet planted on him, but he was also extremely and uncomfortably hot everywhere else with the AC cranked up.

A head of sweat rolled down the side of his head while he glared at the wall, wondering where he went wrong, when he felt you tap his shoulder.

“Hey, Eli?”

“Yeah?” His brow was crinkled in thought as he searched internally for another solution, but your next few words threw him off guard.

“Are you mad at me?”

“What? Why would I be mad at you?” Shock laced the tone of his voice. You paused, skin between your eyes creasing.

“... today, you kept pushing me away from you. I was just wondering if I did something…”

The look on your face was forlorn, and it felt like a dumbbell was dropped on top of his head. In his act of trying to not push you away… it seemed he’d pushed you away worse than what would’ve happened initially. A black hole of guilt consumed his heart, and his lips formed a shaky, remorseful line.

“No, I’m not. I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. You didn’t do anything. I was just… I don’t know.”

You glanced at him tiredly, before closing your eyes, chuckling with a half smile and nuzzling further into your pillow. “Oh, okay… I was worried, but I guess it’s fine then.”

“Yeah, it is.” He watched your peaceful sleeping expression, and a genuine smile graced his lips. With a soft countenance, he blinked at you a couple of times, before summoning some courage and taking a deep breath.

“Hey, (y/n)?”

“Yeah?”

“Your feet are really cold.”

Your eyes shot open. “For real?”

“Yeah. Like, really cold.”

You averted your eyes from him. “Is that a problem?”

His eyes carried the brunt of his smile for his lips, and they glimmered happily. He rested a hand on your shoulder. “No, it’s no big deal. None at all.”

The small smile on your face you got from hearing those words made Eli come to another conclusion that day.

He wouldn’t push you away - and he would never lie to you again. The temperature of your feet made him nearly faint, but he’d rather die in a blizzard than see that downcast expression on you again.

Vin Jin

“Get your cold feet the fuck off of me.”

“And if I don’t, what will you do? Be mad?”

“I’ll kill you.”

Before the both of you had gone to sleep, Vin Jin had made it very clear to you; do not touch him with your feet. Your arm was okay - but on thin ice, considering your fingers could get pretty chilly, but not your feet. He’d pronounced every syllable in the sentence, even doing little gestures with his hands to paint you a picture. Do. Not. Touch. Him. With. Your. Feet.

He’d fallen sleep before you, and was out like a light an hour after the conversation you’d had. Feeling cold and evil, you decided to go for it anyways, and threw your leg over his. He awakened instantly, and the very first words to you were him telling you to get your cold feet the fuck off of him.

“Is that a promise or a warning?”

“It’s a threat.”

You chuckled, “You don’t have it in you. Y’know, you’d try to kill me, but you’d probably get cold feet. Do you get it? Haha!”

A vein burst in the side of his head, and he kicked your leg away with his grumpily. “I’m not kidding. I’m fast. I’m really fast.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, you won’t even see it coming.”

You grinned. “Well then, evade this, fast guy.” You kicked your leg back to his. He went rigid.

“That’s it-!” Grabbing his pillow and leaping up in one swift motion, any remnants of sleepiness in him were expelled, and he jumped onto you; smothering you with the pillow. “Choke out!

Your muffled laughter came from behind the pillow, and you lifted your leg to the part of his which wasn’t covered, and laid the flat of your foot on it. He screamed like he’d been shot.

Falling back onto his side of the bed, he clutched where your foot met his leg. “You cheap tricked bastard! That’s it, come here!”

Wrapping his fingers around your wrist, he pulled you out of bed, and you stumbled over your own feet as you followed wherever he was taking you with no qualms; smile of a winner, eyes of a sinner.

He let go of you in the living room and made a motion for you to sit, and you did - patiently, at that. The sound of running water hit your ears and it didn’t stop for a good few minutes, and then a dripping noise - like something spilling over something - reached you. Vin Jin came stumbling back into the room with a pale of water, and your chest moved as you chuckled.

“Hah, what’s that for - hey, what the hell are you doing?!” When he lifted your foot into the bucket of water, you weren’t too reluctant; warmed after was warm water, and it usually felt good. But this water wasn’t warm; it was burning.

“Ack, get my foot out of there!” You tried to retract it, but he kept a grip around your ankle.

“This is for your own good. And mine!”

“Stop talking like this is some intervention! That waters scorching hot!”

“Your feet are scorching cold!” He sneered.

“That’s not the comeback you think it is. I don’t think you can use that correctly in a sentence, dumbass!”

Eventually you pulled your foot out of the water, and it was burning red. You hissed lowly in pain, and Vin tossed the bucket of water aside, kicking your foot with his lazily to see if there was a change.

He was down immediately, and if he didn’t have sunglasses on, you would’ve seen tears build in his eyes. “What the fuck - how are they still cold?! Go to a doctor!”

You puffed your chest out defensively. “Leave me alone.”

“Whatever,” he said, scratching the back of his head angrily. “I’m going to bed.”

When you didn’t copy him in doing so, he sent you a quizzical look. “What? Don’t tell me you’re butt-hurt. I just called it as it is. You have cold as fuck feet.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m sleeping right here, on the couch tonight, since I’m apparently that much of a pain to sleep with.”

“Don’t be like that.”

“Like what?”

“All- al frown-y and shit!”

You sent him a sharp glare before turning on your side and laying down. “Im not. I’m just staying here.”

“Cmon.”

“Come on what?”

“If I leave you here, you’ll just stay and at me and won’t talk to me in the morning.” He ran his hand across the top of his head.

“...”

“Okay, fine! You can sleep with me. Geez, you’re so high maintenance… just put socks on at least.”

You jumped up from the couch, nothing left of your soured expression. “Yay! Thanks.”

He glanced at you, before turning his head away swiftly with an annoyed blow of air out of his mouth. “Yeah, yeah.” If he’d been facing you, you might’ve caught the tint of pink he was turning. “I’m just a really good boyfriend, that’s all.”

“Yeah you are.” You flattered artificially, and he just clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in faux irritation.

That night, when your feet would drift to his, despite the violent chill running down his spine, he didn’t say a word.

—

The following morning, you and him awoke to a driveway full of snow. You’d went back to sleep, telling him to take care of it. And to his chagrin, he did end up having to do it, and when he came back inside he came to a realization.

His feet were as cold as yours now.

A snake-like smile curved the edges of his lips into a V-shape, malice hiding behind his eyes. Delighted with the realization, he crept back to your room. He couldn’t wait to get into the bed, and subject you to the same horror you’d don’t to him - to turn the tables. And to see you have to suck it up despite hating the frigid feeling crawling up your calf, because he’d done the same for you, and who were you to refuse?

“Hehehehehe.” A childlike laugh fell off his lips, and when he crawled back into bed, he immediately shuffled his legs to touch yours. You slowly, gradually began to tense, and he saw your shoulders uncomfortably rise. He would’ve cackled had you not been besides him.

He finally gave you a taste of your own medicine, a-

“What the hell?” You mumbled, half-asleep. You jerked your foot away from his, and his mouth opened and closed in a state of a shock. “Your feet are freezing… stay over there.”

“Wha-but I—“ His mouth opened and closed.

“Hmmm. But you what?”

Like a fish, he gaped at you, wide eyed and body language expressing his utter shock, and betrayal, both of which mutating into absolute anger. After everything he did for you?! “Wha- Wha- Wha- you fucking-!”

Goo Kim

“You know I love you, right?” Those were the words you were shaken awake to that cold night, and you’d blinked a few times, clearing the blurriness infiltrating your vision.

Groggily, you replied. “...Yeah?” Even the tiredness befuddling your train of thought, you’d known him well on enough that useless flattery always comes before a request. One usually to your inconvenience.

“And you know I’d do anything for you, right?”

“Hm. Yes.”

“And would you do anything for me?”

“... Yeah.”

“Then can you do me this one thing?”

“What?”

His eyes, which previously had glinted with an artificial, saccharine light, lidded. “Keep your feet one million miles away from me.”

There was a soft thud made audible from the lack of any noise in the room when he hit his ankle against yours, the momentum sliding your leg back to your side. As soon as he’d said that he turned back onto the side he was previously facing, sending you the cold shoulder. You groaned at his back.

“But then I’ll be cold.”

Your feet naturally gravitated to the warm side of the bed - his, and he curled into himself, leaving you stranded.

“I only ask of you one thing.”

“Oh, you’ll be fine,” you scoffed, walking the line between sleep and unconsciousness. “You’ve literally killed people before.”

“You’re killing me.”

“Oh?” If he’d seen you, he’d see your brow curve curiously. “Elaborate.”

“It’s already cold out. You’ll sleep by me, and you’ll drop the temperature around me because you’re so cold, and then I’ll die, and then you’ll go to jail for homicide and then you’ll be sorry.”

“How would being a little cold kill you?”

“Hypothermia.” He answered without missing a beat.

“Huh…” you hummed at how quickly that was thought out, and consequently how poorly. “Maybe my cell mates will hold me.”

“Your heart’s as cold as your feet…”

Your mouth fell open, and you pressed your feet against him again, this time with bad intent. “They are not that cold!”

The moment the bottom side of your foot touched him, he lost out a shrill shriek, and jumped out of the covers like a startled cat.

“I can’t take this anymore!” He yelled, standing to full height and walking over to the foot of the bed. He made a gesture with his hands for you to get up too, and begrudgingly you lifted the covers off of you and got up, rolling your eyes.

“What?”

With his hands, he made a slicing motion over the bed, as if he’d cut it in half. He placed the tips of his fingers on the bed itself and slid them back and forth, like a pizza slicer.

“This,” he was referring to the left side of the imaginary cut he’d made in the bed, “is my side of the bed.” He then slammed his hands on the right side. “And thiiiiis, is yours. Do not cross my side. Capiche?” He titled his head in your face obnoxiously, hands still swinging back and forth as though he was parting the sea.

“One more time. This-“

“I got it the first time! Geez.”

He folded his arms over his chest in an ‘X’. “Do not cross my side! Got it?!”

You narrowed an eye. “So we’re just gonna sleep like this forever?”

“Maybe not in the summer.”

“But then it’ll already be hot and I’ll want my side to myself!” You threw your hands on your hips. “‘Kay, you know what? Fine. Fine! I’ll sleep on my side.” You out your hands up in mock defeat. “You’ll never know the touch of a significant other again.”

“At least I’ll be warm.” He’d nearly hissed it out bitterly, and without sharing another word, you’d huffed and stepped into your side of the bed - sticking close sky to the edge.

All night, you’d slept somewhat soundly - aside from the few times you’d feel a burning, gaping hole in the back of your head. Why he kept looking at you all night, you couldn’t tell. After a while of feeling the pair of eyes from behind on you, you came to the conclusion he was monitoring to make sure you stayed on your side, and your lips fell into a brooding flat line. The bastard…

Eventually you knocked out and didn’t wake back up again - at least, not so easily, and when your eyes finally opened again, it was daylight. Waking up with a yawn, you stretched, the lack of presence by your side not going unnoticed.

At first, you’d tilted your nose skyward frustratedly. Just leaving without saying goodbye - were you seriously that cold? You’d probably continue to anguish over the fact, when you noticed a piece of paper with a letter on the wall that usually wasn’t present, hung atop the dresser.

‘WEAR THESE SO WE CAN SLEEP TOGETHER AGAIN ->’ written in writing so bad you had to squint and analyze it for minutes to decipher it, you unknowingly nodded before following the line of the arrow, seeing it pointed to a pair of socks hung on the dresser. They looked like they were so heavy and thick, they’d drag the entirety of your leg down and indent the floor you walked on with every step, not to mention the ugly, multiple colors - but disregarding that, you smiled at the sentiment. Thanks to the note afterwards, you were able to discern the series of glances to you that night weren’t of skepticism, but regret - or maybe guilt.

Despite the seemingly angry ‘that fucking bastard’ ringing in in your inner thoughts, there was a humorous smile resting on your face.

Taehoon Seong

“Like hell yer sharing a room with that fuckin’ bastard Hobin.”

When he slammed his hand on the register’s desk, both you and her jumped. In spite of his firm tone indicating he’d already made his mind up about this, it was purposeful on his part that his bangs swept across his eyes, and he noticeably flushed red.

You gasped, facial features contorting, aghast. “That’s cold… you can be mad at him, but you don’t have to bring him not having a father into this. We’re only sharing one to save money!”

He threw his hand down back to his sides irately, and the angry expression he held would’ve intimidated you had he not seemed so flustered. You recoiled a little regardless.

“That’s not what I meant, you air-head!” He yelled through gritted teeth. Throughout his thought process, he’d figured if he’d covered up his indignance at you and Hobin sharing a room with an annoyed front and changed it quickly, he’d be able to avoid having to face your confrontation on why he was so concerned. And he’d figured by doing this, he’d be able to avoid confronting his feelings for you himself as well.

However, as reckless and spontaneous as he acted, hiding his true intentions, his embarrassment was thinly veiled.

He sent the lady behind the check-in register a glare. “Change it.”

She began to type something, and you could visibly see a layer of sweat beam on her forehead nervously. “Uh, s-so I’m switching you two to be in the same room, right?” She stammered out, hurriedly complying, and you scoffed.

“Wha-?! Do I just not get a say in this?!”

Your objection was shut down swiftly by a glower being sent your way, triggering your flight or fight response. “What?” He seethed, head tilting back threateningly, “are you saying you want to share a room with that loser?” The dark aura surrounding him seeped into the atmosphere, and you shuddered.

Rubbing the back of your neck, you gave in. “Ah - uh, well, I don’t mind either, I guess… heh…”

Hitting one last letter on her keyboard, the lady behind the register spoke up, grabbing your synchronized attention. “Alright, so,” she squinted at her screen, “Hobin is now in a room alone, and you two are sharing one. Is that right?”

Wanting the entire ordeal over with, he nodded furiously, before grabbing your wrist and leading you along behind him. You’d protest and inquiry further, but truthfully, it felt nice to be wanted, even if the reason why wasn’t made clear to you.

“Oh, man.” You chided casually, hand sliding off the strap of your backpack to rest at your side. “Only one bed… how cliche.”

You made sure to implicate a sense of normalcy to your words, trying to make this feel like no big deal at all. By your side, he just stood still, like a frozen statue. His eyes were wide, and you couldn’t tell if it was shock or agitation.

Engulfed in silence, you waited to see if he’d say anything, but were met with no response. “Well… looks like one of us is gonna have to sleep on the floor.” Secretly, you hoped he would be ‘one of us’. However, he provided an alternative.

Dropping his bag on the floor with an extra amount of force so it’d slam onto the ground, he stormed to the bed, leaving you standing idly at the door. Curling into the farthest possible left corner of the mattress, he shrunk into himself somewhat, blowing out of his nostrils.

“Whatever,” he shrugged, “it’s no big deal. I don’t give a damn.” His gaze made sure to avoid yours like the plague before this, but now he glanced at you from the corner of his eyes, patiently; awaiting your reaction somewhat… worriedly. Concerned to what you’d say, and wether it would be an indirect rejection against him, or a more pleasant answer.

Secretly, you’d wished this unforeseen circumstance would’ve elicited more of a reaction. If he liked you, he probably would’ve refused instantly, right?

It felt like you were being friend zoned, the way he want about it so mundanely, and your face was blank as your thoughts grew more and more forlorn and disappointed. You’d gotten lost in them after a while, like a-

“Are you gonna fuckin’ say anything?”

Snapping you out od your thoughts, you redirected your focus to the moment at hand, and quickly made a decision.

“Hmf…” you stared at him with wide eyes briefly, before humming. “Alright.” You slung your backpack off of your shoulder. “If you don’t care, neither do I.”

He went slack at your words, releasing a relieved breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in. When your weight dipped under the bed as you climbed on, his eyes were faced forwards; but he was acutely aware of every shift and creak of the bed.

“...” Glaring at the wall, his face felt hot again. So close…

“Well,” you smiled. “Good night, then.”

Strands of hair fell over his face when he sent you a look over his shoulder scrutinizingly, before he fixed his vision forwards again, resting his head on his hands. “Yeah, yeah… ‘night or whatever. Just stay on your side.”

You’d fallen asleep much quicker than he had, his heart skittering too loudly in his skull for him to catch any rest, until your even and serene breaths lulled him asleep as well.

Normally, he was a fairly heavy sleeper. However that night, he was instantly pulled from his dreams, and his eyes abruptly snapped open when he felt a glacial cold on the lower extremity of his leg.

He awoke to a piercing cold.

You were woken when you went flying off the bed, sent by a kick to the middle of your stomach. Any sleepiness remaining in you was expelled the moment you collided with the floor, rolling a bit from the momentum.

With a pained groan, you lifted yourself on your elbow. “Hey, what the hell?!” You griped, looking up to see he’d rolled onto your side of the bed - or at least, what was your side of the bed, eyes narrowed at you from above.

Rubbing the part of your head which had hit the floor, you scowled. “What’s your problem? Don’t tell me you’re a sleep kicker…”

Remnants of exhaustion were still evident under the crevices of his eyes, however that didn’t impede the lour he directed to you. “Yer sleep in’ on the floor tonight.”

You looked oddly sad at that, shoulders boxing into a square. “Wha- what did I do?!”

The blades of his shoulders stiffened up to his jaw, and he squawked. “Don’t tell me you don’t know! Your feet are fuckin’ freezing!”

You seemed to ponder for a moment, internally wondering if they really were that cold - it’s not like you’d ever slept with anyone before in the same bed. Eyeing your unnecessarily intense expression, he stubbornly scoffed, before retreating back to his side of the bed. Not that he it was needed, as he’d claimed the entire thing for his own.

And you’d been banished from your own bed. The one in the room he argued you’d stay in!

Furiously, you picked yourself up to your feet, and stormed back to the bed. You didn’t even have to listen to him, he didn’t own the room, right?

Your rampage was cut short when he noticed you approaching, and swung his legs off the corner of the bed you were headed towards defensively. With your means of getting up now hindered, you wondered if you could just walk around to the other side and hop on, but realized he’d probably make it there before you. And then you’d be faced with the same situation, so it’d be easier to just handle it here and now.

Leaning down and summoning the most menacing stare you could to match his own, you started speaking. “Let me on.”

“No way.”

Frowning deeply, you tried to attempt overreaching past him and somehow mauevering yourself onto the bed from then. You weren’t gonna sleep on the floor; not in a room you were told to be in by the very guy kicking you off the mattress. Your hand flashed past the arch of his neck to reach the bed behind him, but mid-way a blur of pasty skin was quicker than your motion; and you found your hand blocked by the side of his palm. You scowled lowly, and tried again on the other side of his head, but met the same outcome.

Intimidatingly, he stood, but you stared him down, trying to be as unpredictable as possible. With a small groan of exertion, you tried to fly your hand past him, but this time it was kicked away by the head of his foot; and you let out an “ouch”.

“Yikes, that stings, asshole!” You growled, before going at it again, and being kicked again - this time stumbling aback from the force. This kept going for a prolonged amount of time, you reaching and him deflecting your attacks.

“Damnit!” You reached - he kicked. “Let me-“ this time you tried to glide besides him and jump into the bed with your entire body wholly. He kicked your shoulder back, and you heard it pop. “-get on-“ you went for the other side. He blocked. “-the fucking bed!” With a sudden surge of confidence spurred from your fatigue, you just jumped with no prior plan or idea and mind. His foot crashed into your stomach, and you lost your breath when you were propelled back, and hit the floor.

Now on the floor again, you somewhat subsided to your fate, and a few minutes passed as he’d gotten back into the bed to your upmost chagrin, and you were stuck on the cold hard floor. Drawing senseless doodles into the floor with your finger, you grumbled to yourself angrily.

“-fucking inviting ME to HIS room ‘nd then kicking ME off the bed… little asshole… one of these days…”

You considered how things would’ve turned out had he not interfered with the rooming plan for whatever reason he did. “Yoo Hobin would never treat me like this…”

You could hear the sheets beneath him shuffle as his upper body went taut, and it creaked when he sat up and glared at you again. “What did you just say?” Despite his harsh and cold tone, he looked somewhat guilt-ridden.

Feeling especially spiteful, you averted your gaze to the floor again and continued your nonsensical tracing of the floorboards. “Oh, nothing, I just said that YOO HOBIN WOULD NEVER TREAT ME LIKE THIS.” Your tone was casual, but near the end you amplified your voice as loud as possible to draw out the guilt in him. It was deserved, that’s what he gets for kicking you off.

You picked yourself up, headed towards the door. “Maybe I’ll just go sleep with him…” you knew deep down you wouldn’t. You didn’t want to wake him up if he was asleep, but you hoped he would somehow stop you before you reached the door. If not, to save your pride, you’d continue to storm out the door and then just wander the halls ‘till daylight.

“... Fine. You can sleep here… just stay the hell away from me.”

You beamed, mood doing a complete 180. “Really?!” You clasped your hands together gratefully. “Thanks so much! Don’t worry, I’ll stay on my side.”

You jumped onto the bed, now appreciating it much more than before, and when you’d finally settled comfortably your eyes fluttered to a close. It would’ve been extremely peaceful, had you not felt a sudden pressure against your chest.

Eyes blinking open, you arched a brow when you saw him posed to kick you, keeping his leg besides your upper body.

“... And what’s this for?” You asked, unnerved. He lidded his eyes at you.

“To make sure you keep your cold feet on your fucking side… if you cross over, I’ll freaking kill you.”

“Aren’t you technically on my side now and infringing upon the rules you set yourself?”

The look of hatred he sent you made you chuckle nervously, a drop of sweat sliding down your forehead. “Heh… okay…” with a sigh, you just gave in. “Well, it certainly beats sleeping on the floor.”

He glared at you broodingly, in spite of the red color painting his face. You closed your eyes and smiled, content.

“Goodnight.”

“If I feel yer feet come on my side, you won’t live to see daylight.”

That was good enough for you. Signing tiredly through an exhale, you fell asleep, him watching your peaceful expression until he drifted off too.

(Unedited)

Ur not annoying me w ur requests at all!!!! I love writing them, u could never annoy me by requesting lol DONT worry!! I hope this was what u wanted w ur ask, it ended up rlly long and unexpectedly sweet? and I’m not certain if u have read how to fight, but if u haven’t, based on ur last few requests I think u would like taehoon, wangguk and thus one other guy who’s name I don’t remember but his hair is in a bun LOL. It’s by the same author if lookism so if u haven’t read it I definitely recommend it!!!!! Ty for requesting ❤️❤️❤️

#How to fight x reader #Viral hit x reader #Lookism x reader #Goo Kim x reader #Eli Jang x reader #Vin Jin x reader #Taehoon Seong x reader #Taehoon x reader #How to fight #Lookism #Viral hit

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hotwings0203 · 3 years

Text

An Ode to the Unseen

Thinkin about readers who feel self conscious, readers who feel like they’re not happy with their weight, readers who don’t feel girly enough or feel too vulnerable because of whatever height they’re at. I’m thinkin about readers who suffer from body dysmorphia, who shy away from looking at themselves in the mirror to avoid seeing their scars, body hair or acne. This is for the readers who feel too submissive and feel like a pushover in their lives, and this is for the readers who feel like they’re too fiesty and not soft enough. It doesn’t matter if you feel like you can’t relate to the stereotypical tropes in writing, or if you feel like you can’t act like a perfectly constructed Y/N in real life, this ones for you💖

A/N: Hello to all reading! I made this on a whim just to tackle some of the insecurities lesser described characters in stories might feel, but this is in no way meant to exclude anyone at all! We all have beautiful bodies, and should own up to it even if we don’t always see the problems we face in writing. Some of these topics might be sensitive to readers or trigger memories that might be disturbing to others, so please heed the warnings! Also the Hawks prompt at the end gets pretty nsfw, so heads up for that hehe

CW: dubcon, manipulating, fluff, slight angst, EDs, body dysmorphia, kidnapping, abuse, degradation, some nsfw, yandere, language, insecurity

You’re ever feeling not particularly happy with your face or body because of an acne breakout, or a rash that won’t go away? Maybe a birthmark that you try to cover up with makeup? Even stretch marks or scars from surgery?

You can bet your ass shigaraki will notice the way you can barely glance at the mirror some days just so you don’t have to see your own reflection when it’s time to go to bed with him.

His obvious and intense stare makes you fidget and gets your skin crawling, but he says nothing that night when he holds you a little too tightly-tighter than most nights he’s with you. The sound of his raspy breaths lulls you to sleep, but when you wake up he’s already gone, out on another mission or at a meeting with the Yakuza.

You feel groggy and gross, and going to the bathroom just to look in the mirror again to see whatever ails your body and/or face does nothing to stop your groan of misery.

You do your business all while turning away from your reflection, not wanting to see a second more of your discontentment staring right back at you while you wash your face, brush your teeth, and meticulously do your hair.

Finally making your way downstairs to the bar, you sit on one of the barstools and hold your head in your hands, not wanting to meet anyone’s gaze and no doubt seeing their disgust at your ailment.

But you look up when a soft whirring sound and purple-black tendrils of smoke appear before you

“Young master L/N,” Kurogiri says. “Have you been feeling alright? You retired earlier last night and had the most uncomfortable of expressions on your face, I couldn’t help but notice.”

No matter how much you despised or were wary of Tomura, you knew his caretaker, Kurogiri, had your back. He was respectful of your space, and if he knew you weren’t in the mood for talking then he wouldn’t push you

And so you told him your predicament, opening up about your problem spot(s)

“It’s so embarrassing, Kurogiri. I feel gross and I feel like everyone’s looking at me,” you mumble, putting your head down on the cool polished wood countertop.

He’s silent for a moment or two, before the tendrils of his supposed hands warp into a small portals. They appear again immediately, producing a couple of bottles and place them in front of you.

You raise your head slightly at the sound of sloshing liquid and rattling pills as the bottles are lined up before you in an orderly fashion, and you eye them suspiciously.

“What’s this?” You ask, picking up a tube as your curiosity is piqued.

“Young master Tomura Shigaraki had warned me beforehand of your reclusive nature when you ponder on what cannot be controlled, and sent me a list this morning to pick up some medication that might help you, should you need it. He asked me to bring back every item as soon as possible, so you wouldn’t feel the need to procure anything by yourself and strain yourself unnecessarily.”

You scoff, not buying the surprising act of affection. “So, what, he’s just doing this so he doesn’t have to look at my disgusting (body part of choice) anymore? He wants to come back and see some perfectly molded pet to stare at all day?”

Kurogiri shakes his head, however.

“I know how the young master is perceived to many: abrasive, immature, and brash in his thoughts and actions. He has a long way to go in terms of maturing in the way he views things, and unfortunately he was not blessed with…the best of upbringings, so he truly doesn’t know any better, as you already know.”

You wince internally, feeling slightly guilty now.

“But,” he continues slowly, “he was not born with evil in his heart. He’s just bitter with society, and is desperate for others to know his pain and see the world for what it really is towards those who are suffering. That’s why he is so taken with you, young L/N. Before you came here, he observed your mannerisms and was thoroughly attracted to the way you could see through people’s surface level facades. Although your views on the world may differ here and there, he is desperate to show you that he understands your suffering, and that he’s there for you-“

“-yeah, well, he has a funny way of showing it,” you mutter darkly, memories of chains and dark rooms and various marks on your body flashing through your mind. Even if Kurogiri was telling the truth, it would take some time for you to come around and even begin to try to give yourself to Shigaraki. He was just too volatile, too rough and negligent of your wants and needs. He lashed out at everything you did, and made you feel like nothing you ever did was enough to please his shifty nature.

“Yes, I can understand you bitter feelings towards him,” the black and purple mass hummed in thought. “I have tried explaining how a human girl is to be treated, however, and he is slowly trying to learn. I feel as though he may feel embarrassed at times from his lack of knowledge at such simple social norms, and that is another factor of his frequent temper tantrums. He might be the leader of a powerful villain organization, but when he realizes he has no knowledge of making friends or keeping relationships, it’s an embarrassing blow to his ego. Especially with you, he is especially sentimental and touchy regarding topics that pertain to you. He often will sit here in silence after you two have a, uh, little spat, and hesitantly will seek my advice on how to make things up to you. ”

And you realize with a grimace that he’s right-there are days after you both have a big blowout(usually over the most pettiest of things, maybe you turned away from him while sleeping and he took it as a sign of disobedience, or maybe you didn’t greet him when he came back from an especially tiring mission and he used that opportunity to take his pent up stress out on you) that he’ll come back after storming out of the room only to creep back in hours later with various trinkets in his hand.

You’d be alerted of his presence when the pitch black room is blessed with a yellow ray of light from the opening creaky door as he enters, and you will yourself to continue breathing slowly, as if you were still asleep. But he’s so quiet and stealthy as he comes closer to you, it’s hard not to be surprised and flinch or jump when his arm reaches over you just to place one of your favorite snacks on the cracked dresser next to you.

It’s hard to keep your head down on the dusty pillow and keep your curiosity in check when you feel him breathing down your neck as he lays a stuffed animal on the blanket next to you, and you often wonder where he knows to buy such fragile and innocent things.

Your aesthetic that he so closely has memorized from each singular color to the details of your favorite patterns make a stark, disturbing contrast to his greying, deadly aura. It’s almost impressive that he pertains each gift to your taste when he’s feeling especially sorrowful

“But nevertheless, the master has asked me relinquish these to you as soon as you came downstairs. And, just between me and you,” he leans closer and you do too, finding yourself wanting to know this secret side of your captor even further, “he was muttering something as he left, something along the lines of not wanting you to feel like you had to use these products. I think he was trying to say that he never wants you to feel as though you have to make up any part of your body you feel insecure about to him. He wants you to stay the same way you always are, and if you never adjust to your surroundings here, then he at the very least wants you to be comfortable in your own skin, blemishes and all.”

“This may or may not come as a surprise to you, but he himself knows what it’s like to feel insecure about his own skin and body,” and it comes across so ridiculously innocent and striking to you that such a lethal character such as the infamous Shigaraki would have the same problems a normal, functioning member of society would have: skincare and body insecurity. But the lines, scratches, and scars that litter his face can attest to this notion. How often did he himself avoid looking in the mirror for, not wanting to see his translucent skin, the clawmarks that left bright, angry trails up his face and down the sides of his neck, the cracks in and around his lips and eyes? Is that why he left his hair down skit covered his face, and the hand on top covering him whole more often on than not?

And so you finally open the lid to the tube, testing the feel of its contents that promise your mutinous skin some time of relief.

The door suddenly bangs open, and the man of the hour himself slinks in, nails idly scratching the underside of his jaw as he mutters under his breath to himself.

He lifts his head and sees you and kurogiri at the bar, a tube of ointment in your hand , the lid opened in testing as the rest of his presents are in array all around you.

As if you were accepting them.

As if you were accepting him

He feels his face beat up and his deteriorating body starts to prickle and sweat. He merely scratches harder, his mumbling continuing as he slowly makes his way over to you

You watch his little unsure shuffled towards you, and you can’t help it when your heart twinges as you take in his hopeful yet cautious expression, no matter how hard he tries to stifle any vulnerable emotion

So, in a moments decision of truce you quickly lean forward to whisper to Kurogiri one last favor before turning to see a new light of your captor

“Before I go, I need some things from you, please. By tonight, do you think you could pick up some self care things at the corner store for me? I’m talking face masks, lotions, Vaseline, and hair products.”

“I think if I see him accept himself and care for the body he’s in least for one night, I could be happy in my skin, too.”

Feeling conscious about your weight, whether it’s over or under your preferred look? Please, don’t make Kiri laugh at your naivety

You groaned as you stood on the scale, the numbers reading back at you seeming more mocking than simple statistics

You weren’t meeting your preferred weight, and it was beginning to take a harsher toll on you now more than ever with Kiri around all the time

It was easier to ignore it when you lived by yourself in secluded bliss, where the walls of where you lived couldn’t talk or pass judgement about your eating habits, the times you did or didn’t keep up with yourself as months of promising to do the Chloe Ting workouts turned into forgetful reminders that dwindled down into barely passing thoughts.

Where you had your own, carefully chosen friends who could relate and share the secrets of their insecurities, the little area of pudge that just won’t go away, that upper area of their arms of legs that refused to build muscle even after months of eating straight protein and going to the gym.

You got to choose your own happiness, you got to choose if you wanted to spend countless hours scrolling through social media with your coworkers, gazing in envy at the hundreds of models people swooned over, or if you wanted to call it a day and eat a whole bucket of cookies and cream ice cream while watching a sappy rom com, just because it made you happy

But now, not so much

You could tolerate Kiri gradually distancing yourself from friends who he thought didn’t have the “best interests” for you

You could patiently follow the chipper rules of his house to wait for him when he got home, greet him at the door in nice clothes, and sit down to eat dinner with him

You even started getting used to having his eccentric, loud friends over who bustled and teased you around when Kiri invited them over for a boys night even if that “boys night” ended in them being hurriedly ushered out as he caught a glimpse of you in an accidentally-provocative apron

But your sanity and self worth was slowly started to snap like an overstretched rubber band when it came to trusting your body. Your mutinous, betraying body that just didn’t do what you fucking wanted it to do, that was constantly compared to the models friends Kirishima would bring around, like Mina and Jirou

They were angels, of course, so, so sweet to you

Constantly reassuring you that the new dress your captor boyfriend practically shoved you in in his eagerness to see you in red (his color) fit oh so well on you

They tried to convince you that no, the dress wasn’t stretched too tight on you to be considered healthy, and no, it didn’t need to be shrank in some places either

They tried, they really did

Unfortunately for them however, their relentless support didn’t hold a candle’s light to the body builders and Pilates instructors Kiri would model with for health magazines almost every month

They could never understand what it was like to be in constant doubt and shame when you feel your seemingly mismatched figure, their bodies reflecting healthy proportions in every nook and corner, skin and smooth and soft as a baby’s, with glowing reflections of perspiration

And you always seemed like the only poor unfortunate soul who sat in the corner, sulking and watching ripped muscles and leaned, toned limbs mingle amongst each other to socialize and effortlessly slide inside various apparel that of course fit their body and shaped them in ways you couldn’t even dream of

And it didn’t help that night after night, Kiri would hold you on his lap, bouncing his eager knee as he shoveled bite after bite of food into your unwilling mouth

He infantilized the hell out of you, convinced you were too naive and self-loathing to see your true beauty and how he had to take it on himself to show you what he saw in you

It made you feel pathetic, and helpless. Maybe that’s what you were though, maybe that’s really what he was trying to show you

You felt like you deserved it, anyways

So you stand there, on the weighing machine, feeling the last shreds of self confidence slip down and out of your body, akin to the light tears that splash on the marble bathroom floor.

“Babe? What’re you doing?”

Aw, fuck

You quickly brushed away your tears and stifled your imminent sobs to avoid being coddled as usual by the gentle giant who stood behind you

It frustrated him to no end, no doubt. It didn’t matter how often he’d sit you down and kiss you all over, letting you know how much he loved every precious inch of your body, it didn’t matter how gently he’d cradle your face to force you to look into his eyes just to tell you how beautiful you were, how lucky he is to have kidnapped you

It was never enough for your fragile heart, and he saw it in the way you flinched under his praise and shrunk under his loving gaze that raked over your body that he compared to an angel’s

As if you thought he was a liar, just saying it for your sake

As if you didn’t believe his words, as if you didn’t want to believe his words

As if you were disobeying him

“It-its nothing Kiri, just PMS,” you mumbled, the snot in your nose making you sound nasaly and shaky

“Your period was two weeks ago, and none of your symptoms have ever made you throw up.” He says with a raised eyebrow, his arms crossing as he leans against the doorframe

So he did see you slip out after dinner and head straight for the toilet, huh?

Busted

If he wasn’t so worried about you, he would’ve ditched the mild tone kept up for your sake and had you bent over one knee with a red ass just for lying to him

But from the way you quickly step off the scale and attempt to squeeze past him tells him you aren’t just being hard-to-get, you’re not in one of your resistance fits

And he thinks he knows exactly what’s causing you to not-so-subtly shift your eyes from the weighing scale back to your own body, as if you hadn’t already been doing that for weeks now

He just has to make sure

“Did someone say something to you?” He catches your arm and gently yet firmly prevents you from slipping past him outside the bathroom, away from him

“No, no, seriously I just felt sick, I think I ate something weird,” you try to laugh breezily but the waver in your voice does nothing but further increase Kirishima’s aching heart for you

“You sure? ‘Sure I don’t need to go talk to someone who maybe said the wrong thing to you?” And although his cheerful voice holds nothing but playful jest, the dark glint in his eye does nothing to indicate that all he wants is a friendly talk, especially when he tightens his grip on your arm and pulls you so close that you’re nose to nose with him, looking right at him with tears eyes and flushed cheeks

There’s no point in pretending anymore. He might seem like an airhead, but he’s not one of the city’s top hero because of his airy, gentle nature

“Ugh, no Kiri, no one said anything to me. I just…” you trail off, not wanting to feel the inevitable embarrassment you’ll feel when you tell him the truth

How disgusting you feel when you see his buff, toned, chiseled body that’s akin to a Greek God’s compared to yours

How you long to secretly have the right figure to one day be worthy enough to be deemed his partner in a modeling gig, just once, just to feel like you’re worthy of him and his equivalently built body, a body that reflects hard work and perseverance

Something you seldom see or feel in your own mass of distorted limbs

“What is it?” He pleads softly, begging you to let him fix anything for you, to let him be a man good enough for you

You look into his ruby red eyes that hold a puppy-in-love expression, and when you find only adoration for you in them, you can’t help yourself for falling into the trust and care you so desperately want in that moment

“I’m…so tired of not feeling good about myself. About feeling overweight, underweight, seeing bits of pudge and flab in one area and then seeing some thin and gangly areas in others. Like, I just want my body to be normal, to be healthy like all the people you model with. I feel like nothing I do or eat or wear makes my body look how I want it to look, and no matter how much I try it’s so hard for me to see the beauty of what you see in it.”

And finally you can’t bear looking at him anymore, so you squeeze your eyes shut and turn away

Much to his credit, he pulls you in and nestles your head against his chest, letting your tears and snot wet his tank top

“Oh hun, is that all this is?”

You roll your eyes and try to pull back from his chest, but he doesn’t allow it as he simply holds you there, shushing you and rocking you back and forth

“Kiri, that’s a pretty big thing for me.”

“I know, but…why are you so concerned about how they look anyways? I mean, that’s their job, right? To look good for pictures!”

“I don’t understand,” your voice comes out muffled against his shirt.

“What I’m saying is,” he chuckles and soothes a hand through your hair, “is that you shouldn’t compare yourself to people that have nothing to do with your daily life. Like, you wouldn’t compare yourself to a firefighter right? ‘Cuz thats their job, to save people, not yours. Similarly with models and shit, that’s their job to look good. You didn’t sign up to be a model, so you shouldn’t stress yourself to look like them. Plus, it’s not like it has any affect on what kind of person you are on the inside, you feel me? I’ve met some pretty nasty and rude people with killer bodies, but can you guess how much respect I had for them?”

You nod slowly, still not fully grasping his confusing logic but sort of getting the underlying meaning to it

“But it’s hard not to compare my body to theirs when you’re constantly around them.” You admit. “It feels like I’m not good enough either to be next to you when I’m just sitting on my ass, not doing anything” You grip his shirt and let the last of your tears out, accepting his soft and heavy hands stroking against your back and up and down your shoulders

“So? Do you ever see Sero or Denki modeling next to me? Or Mina and Jirou?”

He did have a point.

“No,” you say slowly.

“Exactly, because models and bodybuilders have a job to dedicate themselves to a life of working out. They do it because that’s what a majority of their life goes to get paid for. It’s all superficial, that’s not how the average person is, like the friends I mentioned. Otherwise the whole world would be full of people walking around with ripped abs and giant pecs. Could you imagine some lanky dude like Denki sporting a 12-pack and ripped pecs?”

“Hell no,” you laugh breathlessly, the image so horrifying to you both that you feel the vibrations of his boisterous laughter rumble through you and soothe your emotions.

“Now you’re getting it,” he speaks into your hair, the smell of your shampoo flooding his senses and getting him dizzy along with a treacherously rising boner

“Plus, what kind of man would I be if I picked my girl out just because of the way she looked? I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re beautiful-no, beautiful can’t even begin to describe you. Your palms feel so soft compared to mine, your arms are so beautiful when my hands are wrapped around them, your thighs are just the right size, your stomach is such a comfy pillow for me to lay on, and don’t forget your plush, slick, tight pu-“ he rambles on and you can’t help but yelp and clap a hand over his overworked mouth as his shower of body positivity starts turning more lewd…attesting to the bulge you begin to feel pressing against your leg.

But it’s funny, you can’t seem to find yourself being mad at him as your face flushes and you see not ill-intent and perverseness in his warm eyes, but pure and honest devotion to you and to the words he truly means

It softens your heart, and you use a finger from the hand smushing against his mouth to lift and stroke the side of his cheek, conveying your gratitude to him.

It seems he understands, as he takes his forced moment of silence with patience and just looks at you, hoping this time you could really see what he felt for you.

“The thing is,” he says after a minute, gently taking your hand away and turning you around so that you both were facing the mirror, “I love you because of who you are. If I wanted to date some model, I would’ve done it by now, trust me,” and you swat your hand against his chest as he stifles a laugh and turns you to look at your own reflection in the mirror.

“I didn’t take you just for your body. I took you because of the way you smile, the way your laugh is so soft sometimes and then all roudy and crazy and loud the next. I love you because of how passionate you talk about the things you like, the way you deal with problems, the way you treat others. All these things make me want you, so damn bad.”

He lightly rocks his hips into your backside so you can really feel how much he wants you, and you let out a soft gasp

He doesn’t let you move, however, he just holds one wrist in his meaty palm and holds your jaw in the other, positioning you so that you meet his wondrous gaze in the clear reflection.

He knew he was never known to be the smartest in his class, having Bakugo drag him by the teeth to pass class itself, so he hoped you could overlook his lack of vocabulary that so desperately was trying to tell you that loving you went even beyond anything he could barely articulate.

Leaning towards your ear, his breath tickles your lobe as his sharp teeth graze over your goosebump-riddled flesh.

“And if it takes all night to show you how much you and your perfect body mean to me, I’ll gladly take out any words that don’t do the job and show you physically how I feel. And just the way you are, too.”

If there’s one man who could not give one less of a fuck about how dainty, small, feminine, or easy to handle you may or not be, it’s the birdman himself: Hawks

Running errands with him when he allowed it was hell, though it should’ve been a paradise you felt owed for.

It was bad enough that when you hesitantly asked him what would look good enough to wear when you walked next to him as the Number Two hero’s captive girlfriend, he merely shrugged and said “Whatever you want.”

Which was not of any help, due to his excessive mood swings and possessiveness spiking at the most seemingly harmless things, such as you talking to the checkout worker at a branded store, wearing a skirt that he deemed was for “sluts who put out for attention”, or even not looking directly at him enough when he was talking to you.

So just to play it safe, you decided to wear jeans and a cute blouse, one that you thought did well for your figure and yet remained modest enough for Keigo’s liking.

He gave you a warning look before opening the door outside, silently telling you to behave yourself in public

You always did, of course.

It was never enough to keep him less suspicious of you regardless.

Deciding to bag some groceries first, he kept a tight grip with your hand as you both inconspicuously tried to navigate the winding back alleys, avoiding people and waiting in intervals to pass the street

He had a black cap on with a red feather embroidered at the top, sunglasses and a beige and white jacket that had a high collar for covering his face-you might be lucky to have the freedom to wear what you wanted to a certain extent but Hawks wasn’t so lucky

His wings, of course, couldn’t be concealed regardless of what he wore

The two of you luckily manage to snag a few stores here and there, the groceries in both his and your arms weighing down on your bodies, his feathers doing little aid to help when his wings started sagging under the bulk as well

Which is where you both were finally caught by a gaggle of fangirls

You passed the cafe they gathered around outside, and barely had time to register their squints of suspicion at Hawks and his poorly-shrunken vermillion wings before you heard squeals of recognition coming from their group a couple feet back

He swore under his breath, crushing your hand in a death grip and attempting to speed up further away from them

But the Number Two hero wasnt fast enough for his own good, this time

It was almost inhuman how quickly they caught up to you and swarmed around, effectively cutting you two off from trying to escape

They shoved papers, phones, various body parts and markers in his face, trying to get him to sign each and every article they had on themselves

And poor you were caught in the midst of it, being carelessly jostled around as each girl tried to force her way closer to him

The volume of their excited devotion and praise of him was making your head hurt, and you wondered how Hawks was managing to put up such a flawless, easygoing smile and responding to all their questions and comments without having a panic attack or snapping at them

After a minute or two of pure chaos, with the help of numerous feathers the hero-now-victim finished most of the autographs.

“Well, girls, thank you so much for your support and time, but me and my lady should get going now-“

“-wait, that’s your girlfriend?” One asks pointing at you in disbelief

You give her a weak smile and little wave

“Yup, the one and only!” Hawks beams at you with pride, holding you in an endearing headlock

“Wow…you guys are so cute!” Another chimes in after a few moments of silence, and you try your hardest not to fall into your same old patterns, to not embrace your old thoughts and insecurities with such open arms

But old habits die hard, and they certainly aren’t dead yet

Especially when the first girl thrusts a shiny phone at you, fluttering her lashes and baring her teeth in a poor imitation of a smile. “Would you be a dear and take a picture of all of us with him?”

“Uhh, sure, yeah, no problem.” You decide that getting this whole ordeal over quicker would be the best option for you

But as quick as you want this to pass, you can’t help but take an extra second to see the difference in your hands and hers when you take the phone from her hand

While her smooth, small and soft hands are seemingly unmarked, her acrylics accentuating her feminine form, you feel as though your larger ones should hide in shame in comparison

You’re not a slob, not by any means when you go out with him. But what was previously just you feeling comfortable in your own skin of knuckle hair, cuticles here and there, and nails bitten short from the cold stand anxiety of living with such a volatile man starts to turn into a realization of how different you are to these people who are trimmed to perfection

You shake off the sinking feeling in your heart and back up with the phone as the rest of the girls and Keigo line up for posing

The details in the phone camera do nothing to ease your growing timidity

The screen reflects what you see right in front of you- smooth hair, not a frizzy strand in sight blowing with the wind, perfectly manicured hands that are so delicate and small compared to your boyfriends’ gripping his upper arms, desperate to feel the hero’s assets.

They’re all at a perfect height with him too, the heels and boots they wear so easily lining them up at his chest level so they have a perfect view of his pecs and upwards

All of them are so beautiful and uniform, so dainty and careful with themselves. If one of them said that they were dating Hawks, you’d believe that they were worthy of it too

You snap the picture and hand the device over, trying to hide your trembling bottom lip and frigid hands

The girls thank Hawks a plethora of times, give you some once-overs as well as slight sneers and faux waves, and you both head on your way back home again

You’re quiet that night while making dinner

It’s chicken pad thai, one of his favorite dishes handmade by you

No matter how shit you feel your cooking is, he insists you make him a 3 course meal while he takes a shower, leaving a feather behind to watch over you

Usually it’s fine, usually you ignore or absentmindedly swat away the plumage’s less-than-innocent rendezvous trailing around your body, floating behind your neck to tickle you, “accidentally “ falling in your shirt or wedging itself down your pants (no doubt commanded so by Hawks)

But today, it’s silent and still, precariously perched on the edge of the kitchen counter as it observed and picks up the various sounds and vibrations of your movement as you bustle around the kitchen

It picks up on the way you chop the onions a little too aggressively with your large, clumsy fucking hands

Another reminder of how different you are than the average Hawks Fangirl ™

How they sashay and swing their hips around in a perfect circle when approaching him, while you stumble and trip over your own damn feet, the epitome of clumsiness and gracelessness

The feet which never endow heels or boots often because of the height difference it gives you and Keigo, because of the way you try desperately to adorn different slouches and postures to not look so out of place and awkward around him

And while you’re stirring the pasta in its sauce, the feather also picks up on the rhythm of your shattered heart

Shattered so when you remember how the girls sneered at you because you weren’t femme fatale like them, how you just stood there like a fucking mannequin while they cooed well placed praise, and how eloquent sentences flowed from their tongue like honey

You could only wish you ever spoke like they did, or adopted any of their mannerisms that seemed so natural and effortless like them

Your aching heart thudded dully while you scrutinized your miserable self, and flared up into a kicking rate when you realized you shouldn’t even care what your captor or any of his fan girls thinks

In fact, this was all his fault.

You slammed your mixer down, tapping your fingers against the countertop deep on thought

The vibrations the feather picked up was the last straw of its patience, as it alerted its owner to come and address you

Mumbling under your breath at your predicament, you banged around pots and spoons in your anger, failing to notice the plumage silently join its approaching owner, the water from his shower dripping down his wet shoulders and hair

“What’s goin’ on chickadee? It sounds like you’re tryina’ tear down the kitchen.”

You barely spare him a glance over your shoulder as you take in his bare torso, only a towel wrapped around his midriff

“Nothing. Just finishing up dinner,” you mumble.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing. It sounds like your hearts racing a mile a minute. So I’ll ask you again- what are you so upset?”

He yanks a stirring spoon from your hand and uses his grand wings to turn you towards him, a condescending pout on his face as he amusedly takes in your furrowed eyebrows, heated up cheeks and shaking fists.

He wants to keep pushing me? Fine, then I can play his little game

“You wanna know why I’m upset? I’m upset because I’m here against my will, creating problems for myself that I never even wanted in the first place!”

You jab a finger into his chest and his eyes narrow at your impertinent tone.

“Now wait a sec’-“ but you cut him off immediately, nose to nose with him now as you continue to blare at him

“I’m upset because I never feel fucking good enough for my kidnapper. How pathetic is that? Any time I have to beg you on all fours like a fucking dog to go outside I end up regretting it, ‘cause all I see is how flawed I am!”

He’s staring at you with wide eyes now, actually bewildered at the turn your ranting came to. So it’s not just about being kept here against your will, you’re actually upset about not feeling good enough for him?

“Those girls today…they were so perfect and feminine and beautiful and they had such small fucking hands that would fit perfectly in yours like mine never do, and perfectly pedicured feet, and had such pretty voices, fuck, I mean I’d date them too if I were you!”

You ignore the rage and bafflement in his expression, he looks at you like you’re crazy and maybe for the moment you are as you keep mouthing off to him

“So why don’t you, huh? I mean I only go out with you a couple times a year, but you see them almost every day! Girls who have hair that flows like goddamn waterfalls, girls who you could pick up and throw around so easily or at least girls you’re not embarrassed of.”

“I’m clumsy, I can’t walk with grace, I’m not at a height that’s easy for you to look at me with or thats even considered sexy, I probably don’t even weigh anything around you that people would call worthy of being some fit bitch for you!”

At this, you sink to your knees in front of him, almost spent out. You can’t bear for him to see your face, no doubt scrunched up in tears and snot with mussed strands hovering around your face like you just got electrocuted.

Another thing to ridicule yourself about, a fucking crying face. You don’t want him to see another ugly trait about you that he no doubt will snicker about behind your back.

“Isn’t that why you never let me out? Because I’m not cute or good material for tabloids, right? I don’t look good enough or act right for the Number Two hero, and that’s why you’re embarrassed, right? It’s been so long since I tried to last leave so I know you trust me-that means the only reason you hate going out with me and covering yourself up is because you can’t stand to be seen with such a fugly-“

“That’s enough.” His cold voice booms louder than yours, and you startle at that.

“Look at me, Y/N.” The tone at which he speaks leaves no room for argument, but when you continue to look down he snarls and detaches a feather, forcing your head up with it.

“You keep calling yourself all these things, but don’t tell me that moronic is another word you’re gonna add on, right? I mean you can’t possibly be that stupid enough to believe all those things you just said.”

You glare at him, sure that this was just a way for him to get you to shut up.

“I thought living with the Number Two hero would let some intellect rub off on you, but I guess it’s the complete opposite, if anything. Because you seem to have forgotten your place in my house.”

You yelp when suddenly a multitude of other feathers zoom towards you, pulling at your limbs and clothes as they lift you into the air, suspended to a height a couple of feet above Hawks’ eye level.

He just stands there with an eerie smirk on his face as he watches you flail around midair, trying to regain your balance.

“It doesn’t matter if you’re 6’3 and have bigger hands than me.”

With a flick of his finger, the feathers are directed to slam your body into the ground, leaving you wheezing on your back.

“And it doesn’t matter if you’re 4’7 and fall over yourself every time I call for you.”

He stands above you now, hands in his pockets and he smiles down at your curled up body. You look at him cautiously, unsure of what he’s playing at.

“You’re mind because I want you. I want everything about you, your heart, your mannerisms, your soul, your movements-they all belong to me and only me.”

He crouches down to a kneel, gently running a hand through your hair before turning it into a fist and yanking your head up to face him.

“And there isn’t a goddamn thing that’s gonna stop me from having you, when I want, and how I want. You think you have a chance of leaving me, or me leaving you when I, in your words, ‘go out and see beautiful girls like that all the time?’ If I haven’t left you for them by now, I sure as hell never will.”

You decide for now to take the backhanded compliment about being able to leave in silence. In a messed up way, he was proving his loyalty, and right now you needed all the reassurance you could get.

“And why the hell do you care how you look in public anyways, huh? Are you trying to seduce someone?”

You frantically object, and he sneers at your desperation. “Good, because it should only matter what I think, and you wanna know what I think?”

You stare at him wide eyed now as he pulls your head closer to him

“I don’t give a flying fuck if you think you’re some foxy slut or if you feel like a clumsy oaf. Because you wanna know why?”

He starts unzipping his fly with a handy feather, and you mentally berate yourself for pushing him to a point where he has to ‘prove his love’ to you, knowing where this was heading.

“Because when you’re sucking my cock or lying underneath me, it doesn’t matter how tall or short you are. When I tell you to take your clothes off and hump my foot like the good little bitch in heat you are, I don’t care how much you weigh. I’m still choosing you to be my fuckmeat, my obedient play-toy when I want, and I’m doing it with all your ‘flaws’, aren’t I? ”

You cringe when his tongue flicks out against your earlobe and down your jaw, your endeavors of trying to shove him away proving fruitless as he just snarls and bites your neck.

“Even if you think you don’t have the prettiest, smallest, biggest, or smoothest hands, they’re still the hands I’m choosing to play with my balls, yeah? I mean, you should be proud of your fucking sexy and lewd body…look at what it does to me.”

He gestures to his exposed member now which is hard against your thigh. You bite back a whimper as he begins to tear open your shirt with one free hand as the other slips down your pants.

“So be a good girl and show me how proud you are of being mine.”

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