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#don’t feel obligated to allow your discomfort to make someone else comfortable
samthemarvelfan · 10 days ago
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving!
This holiday in particular can be very difficult for a lot of people. Being forced to “interact” with family who may not share your outlooks or beliefs can be very stressful and toxic.
If you guys need a safe space to vent or reflect or simply come for some positivity, my asks/dms are always open to you. I promise I’ll do my best to brighten your day! ❤️
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thelastsock · 7 months ago
A for Effort
Pairing: Student!Henry Cavill x Lisa (OFC @killjoy-assbutt-1112) but descriptions kept generic to suit “Female Reader” where possible.
Words: ~6.5K (it got loooong!) 
Summary: A lost student, Lisa, gets more than she bargained for one evening at the beginning of her first semester when she meets teaching assistant Henry.
Warnings: awkwardness and terrible flirting, slightly creepy Henry (he acquires her number without her knowledge), perhaps the teeniest bit of power abuse? , terrible use of emojis (both me and Henry haha) protected sex, awkward sex, fingering and my terrible understanding of lord of the rings
A/N: This was the result of a discussion between me and @killjoy-assbutt-1112 on this post here. I’ve both described and shown the relevant emojis because I know some don’t show up or look different to how I see them! This took on a life of its own, I hope you enjoy! 
Moodboard provided by the beautiful Lisa too! Love you bbe! 💕
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"And read chapters 2-4 in the course textbook before the next lecture."
With that, there was a clatter of desks and chatter as the other students packed away. You struggled against the flow of exiting students to the wizened professor at the front, clutching your phone in hand and trying to shove your folder into your bag. She took no shit from anyone but seemed friendly enough. And you were getting desperate. Surely it wasn't possible to have 3 lessons all at the same time?
"Excuse me? Could you help me?"
"Sorry I've got to run - can it wait for my office hours?" the professor replied in a rush, gathering papers from the podium. She looked at your stressed features and paused, gesturing for you to go ahead.
"I just need to check whether I've got the right lessons on my timetable?"
The professor pushed her glasses back up her nose, picking up the remainder of her belongings.
"Oh, you'll need to go to the course admin offices for that. They're in the Arts building on the top floor."
With that she swept past you and up the stairs amongst the remaining students. You were about to follow her up the stairs, when you noticed someone in your peripheral vision.
"Hey, I can take a look if you like?"
His voice was smooth as silk but with an undertone of shyness that immediately made you feel comfortable. You turned to look at the other student and had to do a double take, eyes lifting upwards to take in the full stature of the young man walking to the end of an aisle. He stopped at the steps with one arm tucked under his bag strap, the other holding a folder flat against his hip. The bright blue eyes are what struck you first, followed by the gentle smile on his lips. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t notice the way that light blue shirt fit his chest and the way those jeans hugged his hips. You would place a million bets that his butt looked fantastic too.
“I mean, I’ve taken these classes like…” his eyes cast up to the ceiling as if counting in his head. “Four times now?”
You must have looked at him with disbelief in your eyes as he chuckled.
“The first two times were my mistake. The next two are because I’m a TA for the professor while I complete my research project.”
“Oh really? So why exactly are you hanging around here? Picking up waifs and strays that need your help? I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do.”
He opened his mouth only to shut it again, the laughter still etched around his eyes.
“I’m Henry. Nice to meet you…? ” He paused, waiting for you to fill in the blank.
“Uhh Lisa. Hi.” You replied, walking up the steps to the same level as Henry.
As you got closer, his face split into a gorgeous smile and it was a second before you could speak again, but Henry beat you to it.
“Let’s take a look at your timetable huh?”
You moved to the lecture bench you’d just walked past and dumped your bag. Henry followed suit, his folder and bag joining yours. He threw himself onto the seats, his feet automatically coming up to rest on the desk. You stood looking at him for a beat and he coughed lightly, removing his feet from the desk and gestured to the seat next to him.
He got out his phone to show you his timetable and sure enough, he had the same classes as you for this professor but no clashes. You pulled up your phone to show him your timetable, all angry and red and stressful. He leant closer to your screen and poked a few buttons, frowned a little and rotated the phone before showing you.
“See here’s where your clash is. This class is a seminar,” He gestured at one of the red blocks. “But there are another two groups for this one, so you can just move to the other one. All you have to do is fill in this change request and they’ll change your timetable slot.“
Your finger met his on the small screen of your phone as you went to complete the request. But he gently tugged the phone out of your grasp, tapping on the screen, his eyes flicking up to meet yours a few times. Heat crept up your cheeks as you realised you were staring but unable to look away.
“I put you in the seminar I TA in.” Henry grinned, handing you back your phone. “So don't be late!"
You could swear he lingered on purpose, his fingers smoothing over yours as he let you take the phone. Already pressed against his side in the small lecture bench, the touch sent sparks of arousal flooding through your system. You shifted on the uncomfortable bench, clenching your thighs together.
“Unless…” Henry started, his voice lowering to sinful levels.
“Unless what?” you murmured, your focus narrowing down to the feeling of his breath ghosting along your cheek.
A door banged open above you, causing the two of you to leap apart.
“Out. I have to lock up the building.” Came a gruff voice that echoed down from the entrance. The janitor looked pained to even be there. He’d clearly broken up one too many intimate situations to be embarrassed any longer. You laughed, gathering your bag and folder as Henry did the same. You walked up the stairs together, not quite rushing. Much to the chagrin of the irritated janitor, rattling his key as he waited. Henry ducked out of the lecture hall first, allowing you to prove to yourself that he did indeed have an amazing rear. You joined him outside the building, cooling air made your breath just about visible in the newly-lit orange light of the street lamps.
“Walk you home?” he asked, offering you his arm.
You hesitated for a moment and Henry nodded, acknowledging your discomfort.
“No obligation, I just want to make sure you get home safely.”
You took his arm and pressed yourself against his side without a second thought. Though you definitely thought about just how firm he felt underneath his shirt. You swallowed, trying to slow your accelerating heartbeat. The first few moments were silent as you just focused on putting one foot in front of the other. That was until you tripped over a crack in the pavement, nervous laughter bubbling out of your chest. Henry snickered at your predicament until he walked into a streetlamp, too busy laughing to notice where he was going. You wheezed, trying to catch your breath as Henry erupted into peals of laughter too.
Tension broken, you spoke at length. The shortness of the walk not perturbing either of you from the range of topics you covered. By the time you rounded the last corner to see your place on the street ahead, you’d discovered that Henry had dreams of becoming an author of a fantasy book series, that he loved to keep fit and adored animals of all kinds. You in turn had divulged your own hopes and dreams having started attending this university to expand your career options for the future. You both lamented the late evenings that this course had thrust upon you. You joked that it was lucky that you didn’t have any early morning classes as you were most definitely not a morning person.
“You should see my bed head!” Henry chuckled, gesturing to his unruly mop of curly brown hair.
Every fibre of your being wanted you to reply with a cheeky “Ok” but your nerves failed you and you continued walking, staring ahead. With each step closer to your home you became quieter, not wanting this exchange to end. The gathering darkness somehow made it easier to believe that this could continue and he wasn’t just being friendly and was actually interested in you beyond a moment in a darkened lecture hall. He smiled anyway, taking up the conversation mantle easily but allowed the quiet to settle over the pair of you as he tailed away his words.
“Well this is me.” you mumbled, waiting for him to flee into the night having completed his chivalrous duty.
“Oh nice,” He nodded, looking around at the street. “Much nicer than my flat!”
You missed the pained expression on Henry’s face as he winced at the words, a blush creeping up his cheeks. You tried not to let your nerves get the better of you but you both lingered, not saying much. You bit the inside of your lip and looked at the ground, feeling immensely awkward. From this view you saw how his hands fiddled with the edge of his folder, frayed to the cardboard underneath with constant touch. Your thoughts stuttered to a stop as you were transfixed on his thumb rubbing the corner of the material. Head completely empty of anything else, you internally screamed as you all but turned and ran away to the safety of your flat building.
“Wait!” Henry called out to you as you reached the door of your building.
You spun around to find him where you left him, stood on the street. Only he wasn’t looking at you, he was staring at his phone screen, typing furiously. After a beat he looked up and waved at you, pointing at his phone. You frowned as your phone vibrated in your pocket. You pulled it out to find a new message waiting for you.
Henry: Want to go for breakfast before the seminar tomorrow? ☕[coffee cup emoji]
You looked at him in disbelief, the cheeky so and so put his number into your phone! You glared at him for a second before stabbing the buttons with more panache that was perhaps needed.
You: Are you asking me out on a date?! 😳[embarrassed emoji]
You tried to clamp down on the smile trying to peek out when you saw him typing back. A quick glance up showed him concentrating, his tongue poking out to lick his lips. The dim glow of the phone screen highlighted his cheekbones to perfection. You shook your head to dissuade yourself of any naughty thoughts, quickly looking back down at your phone to avoid his gaze. Your phone pinged again.
Henry: Tomorrow is a date on the calendar right? ;) I’d love to see what you look like in the morning...
This time you couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped on reading possibly the cheesiest two lines that had ever been uttered by such a handsome man. You grinned, typing back faster.
You: I’ll give you a C for effort. You’ve got to work harder than that to see me in the morning. 😎[sunglasses emoji]
As soon as you pressed send you looked up at Henry. After a moment, he looked up too and clutched his phone to his chest miming over exaggerated hurt before grinning at you and typing back furiously.
Henry: I promise I’ll make up for my indiscretions, I’ll have you know I’m an A grade student! I know a great place near here so you won’t need to wake up super early. Pretty please?
Henry:🥺🙏  [pleading emoji, praying emoji]
You looked up and nodded. Henry gave you a megawatt smile before looking back down at his phone.
Henry: I’ll pick you up at 11am.
A few more alerts hit your phone in quick succession.
Henry: And just so you know, I’m not afraid of putting in the work to get that A…
Firstly, I’m a great kisser.
And secondly… Well, I don’t kiss and tell ;)
You raised your eyebrow at Henry and waved goodbye before walking inside. If you had a grin plastered on your face for the rest of the evening… well who was to know?
Sunlight poured in through the large windows of the cafe, giving it a welcoming feeling. You entered just in front of Henry, the warmth of his hand on your lower back evident even through the jacket you wore. The smell of coffee and frying breakfast hit your nose and your stomach rumbled in response. This cafe was cosy and bright and joy radiated from every corner so much that you couldn’t help but smile. Henry unwound the scarf from his neck as he glanced around the cafe.
“I think we’ll take the table by the window Jess.” He smiled at the homely woman who’d just come around from the counter, menus in hand.
“You want a coffee?” Henry asked you, his hand still very warm against your back.
“Yes please - I need the caffeine to wake up” you laughed a little awkwardly, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.
He relayed the order to Jess and took the menus from her outstretched hand. Henry ushered you over to the window and held out your chair before tucking you in. You’d just removed your jacket and settled into your seat when the ever present and wonderful Jess appeared with two coffees in hand. You looked at Henry over your steaming mug as you took a sip. The crinkles in his chequered shirt made him look cosy and rumpled in the kind of way that made you want to wrap him in your arms and never let him go. Jess pulled out a notepad from her patchwork apron as Henry took a sip of his drink too and groaned in delight. You’d have been lying if you said that the sound of his pleasure didn’t travel directly to your gut.
“How’s Jim?”
“Doing well thank you! Now, what can I get you two lovebirds?”
You blushed at the implication and looked down at the menu intently.
“Uh, full english and…?” He looked over at you expectantly.
“Can I get some Toast with beans and uhhh…” You scanned the menu. “Scrambled eggs! Thank you!”
You looked up at Jess, handing back the menu with your best attempt at a polite smile, despite feeling a little too nervous for food.
As the seconds ticked by the nerves in your stomach faded and the coffee wound its way through your blood, waking you up and warming you from within. You tried not to stare but the way the light shone through the messy curls on his head made you desperately want to reach across the small wooden table and touch them. It was so easy to just continue your conversation from the night before and get to know what Henry’s favourite movie was and what pets you’d both like to have once you finished university. That led to a debate over exactly which of the Lord of the Rings movies was objectively the best, voices raising a little in the almost empty cafe.
“Battle of Helm’s Deep has to be the best part!” You cried, placing your coffee down on the table, absentmindedly licking a drop of coffee off your thumb where it had spilled.
“No way Lisa! How could you forget the Battle of Pelennor where Eowyn meets the Witch King? It’s just-”
The rest of Henry’s thoughts appeared to grind to a halt as you looked at him, his eyes lingering on your lips. You felt your face grow hot under his scrutiny and a tiny blush crept up onto his cheeks when he couldn’t look away. Thankfully you were both saved by the arrival of your breakfast.
After Jess had put down the plates and left the pair of you alone again, you both focused on eating your breakfast. The table was silent except for the sound of cutlery and quiet exclamations of joy at the delicious food. You were about halfway done when you looked up to find Henry mopping up his empty plate with a slice of bread.
“What?” he asked around a mouthful of food as he felt your gaze on him.
You couldn’t help but laugh at the adorable look on his face. You were falling hard and fast for this ridiculous man.
“Nothing!” you smiled, eating another mouthful of your food.
A comfortable silence fell over the table again as Henry moved onto his coffee, leaning back in his chair. But you nearly choked on your last mouthful of food as his foot touched yours under the table. You swallowed carefully, and put down your cutlery. Mirroring Henry, you picked up your coffee and hid behind the cup. You leant back too and allowed your feet to tangle with his. You felt the moment the energy changed between you, the electricity almost visible in his blue gaze.
The conversation that resumed was light-hearted in context but an undercurrent of tension remained. As the coffee ran out, the conversation slowed. You noticed his hand resting on the table, palm up and couldn’t resist the urge to reach across and place your hand in his. His thumb automatically rose to rub across your knuckles as he finished the last sip of his drink, the cup no longer hiding the wide grin he had plastered across his face. You too finished your coffee cup and put the cup back down, eyes lingering on where your hands were joined across the table.
“Shall we pay?” you asked softly, not wanting to disturb the atmosphere.
“Now don’t take this the wrong way but…” Henry started, clearly nervous.
“Yes?” you asked, as your heart leapt into your mouth.
“I paid for the breakfast already.” Henry finished in a rush. “I didn’t want to make assumptions but I wanted to treat you so I-”
“Henry.” you squeezed his hand, relief trickling through your veins, “That’s fine. I’ll just pay next time!”
“Next time eh? Alright.”
The answering smirk you got made your stomach fill with butterflies again despite the breakfast settled in your belly. He stood and walked around to your side of the table to pull your chair out effortlessly. You stood and tugged on your jacket, giggling at the hand Henry offered you to walk out of the cafe.
You took a moment outside the beautiful building to do up your jacket buttons but Henry noticed you were still shivering. He pulled off his scarf and stood behind you, enveloping you with his warmth as he wrapped the scarf around your neck. You felt him freeze, his watch clearly visible to the pair of you.
“Shit. I’m gonna be late if I don’t leave now. I have to be there early to help sort the handouts! Really sorry. I uh- see you later!”
Henry hastily kissed you on the cheek and took off at a very fast paced walk.
“Henry wait, your scarf-” you yelled at his retreating back.
“Look after it for me!” he yelled back, before breaking into a run as he got to the end of the street. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the ghost of his lips on your cheek with every step you took back to your building.
You may have fretted a little too long about how breakfast went and whether you should change before heading to the seminar. Eventually practicality won out and you just slung your backpack over your shoulder and stepped out into the cold afternoon air. You were mostly thankful for Henry’s scarf still around your neck as you walked to the lecture hall but every deep breath surrounded you with his scent and it was driving you crazy by the time you reached the wooden doors of the main building. Following the stream of people walking in, you allowed the hubbub and chatter to wash over you. You walked through the doors at the top of the assigned lecture hall and worked your way down the steps towards the front. Conscious that every step got you closer to Henry, you were nervous that you hadn’t set eyes on him yet in the crowd of students trying to find a seat.
You tucked yourself onto the end of a middle bench and got ready to take notes. From your perch it wasn’t hard to notice Henry once most people had found a seat. It was as if your eyes were helplessly drawn towards him. There he was, right at the front in the corner, back against the wall, facing perpendicular to the lecture hall. He looked nonchalant and effortlessly cool and you zoned out staring at him, burying the lower half of your face into the scarf. That was until he suddenly looked back at you. You jolted upright as you made eye contact and helplessly started to laugh as you saw Henry do the same. You tried hard not to look down at Henry after that and pay attention to the professor at the front. This caused the first hour to tick by incredibly slowly as every second you weren’t staring at Henry, seemed like a moment wasted. And your body heat continued to surround you with his scent with every movement you made. Yup, today would definitely be the day that you died of thirst.
The sound of his voice drifted up to you during a lull in a discussion between the professor and another student. Henry was so much closer to your row now, you could almost see the little fleck of brown in his eye. You were jolted out of yet another daydream about the dork as a pile of handouts landed in your lap from the row in front. When Henry got your row, he lingered pretending to make sure everyone in your row had enough handouts, while his hand ‘accidentally’ rested on your desk, finger rubbing up against your hand. You sat very still trying to focus on the professor’s words and desperately ignoring the heat emanating from Henry’s body so close to yours.
You fidgeted in your seat, feeling a little too warm in the crowded lecture theatre. You could do this, just another hour and you’d be free, you thought to yourself. But when you caught his eye as he returned to his seat and he grinned with zero remorse, you felt a little payback was in order. You reached into your bag to get your phone, seminar almost entirely forgotten. Hands hidden under the desk, you typed out a quick text message.
You: Can’t wait to feel those hands all over my body…
You watched as Henry felt the vibration in his pocket and slid out his phone. He read the message and you saw his adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed. He looked up towards you and you took that as the perfect moment to bite your lip, eyes focused only on him.
You saw rather than heard Henry clear his throat before looking hastily around him. After a beat, he leant back in his seat, crossing his legs. He was seemingly unaffected by your message, but he was giving an inordinately large amount of attention to the professor. You looked down at your mess of notes smiling to yourself, before trying to refocus your attention on the seminar. You had almost succeeded a while later when the professor looked at their watch.
“Alright, time for a ten minute coffee break.”
It took a moment to register that people were getting up around you. You stood to allow some people to get past when your phone vibrated.
Henry: Meet me outside? I need to see you.
A spark of adrenaline skittered down your spine as you saw those words on your phone screen. You gathered your things quickly, nerves making it difficult to complete the task of packing your bag with any precision. Your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest as you walked up the stairs to the exit, illogically sure that you were going to get called back to your seat.
Then you were squinting a little at the evening sun piercing your eyes as you emerged outside. Hearing a voice calling your name and turned to see Henry, hands shoved into his pockets. As you approached, he walked backwards, away from you a little. You grinned and walked a tad faster, following him just around the corner of the building with a quick look behind. As you turned the corner, his warm hands slid around your waist and pulled you out of sight. You shivered at the look of hunger in Henry’s eyes before closing the distance between you. Time seemed to stand still as your attention zeroed in on the silk-like feeling of his lips against yours. Damn, he wasn’t kidding when he said he was a good kisser! Henry tried to pull you away from the building, his lips straining to keep contact with yours as you resisted.
“But what about the second half of the seminar?” you asked, muffled against his lips. “Break is almost up.”
“Fuck the seminar” He growled, pressing another bruising kiss to your lips but reluctantly pulled away all the same.
“Be right back, stay right there.”
He paused to take you in for a second and then he was gone. But before you’d really had a moment for your brain to catch up to your horny thoughts, he had reappeared with a devilish grin. And you were done for, tugging him along the path by his warm hand, to start something, anything to get his lips against yours again. He caught you deftly and spun you close to his chest, whispering in your ear.
“My place is closer.”
The late autumn sunshine shone through the glass panel above the door, painting the hallway in tones of gold and orange. However, your first impression of Henry’s hallway was the firmness of the door at your back and the warmth of his chest against yours as he crowded you against the wood. Your hands threaded through his curls as you poured all your passion into the kiss. But the heady pressure of his body made your head spin, so you pulled away from those sinful lips to breathe a moment. Henry took this as an invitation and started to tug his scarf gently but firmly from around your neck. The tickle of the fibres against your throat sent a shiver down your spine but with every inch of skin revealed by the scarf, Henry strove to cover you in kisses. Every press of his lips stoked the fire blazing deep in your core until your head thunked back on the door, your moan resonating down the hall.
His hands, no longer occupied by the scarf, found themselves at your hips. They slid down over your thighs and encouraged you to lift your legs around his waist. You both moaned in unison, sensitive flesh connecting through rough fabric. His mouth returned to your neck, his teeth nibbling at the delicate flesh, causing you to arch your back against the door. Henry groaned into your skin as your pelvis pressed against his again. Then in a flash, he was pulling you up and away from the front door, securing your legs wrapped around his waist. He took the stairs two at a time, eager to continue exploring you.
Next was a crash as Henry shoved open the door to his bedroom, his large hands otherwise occupied squeezing your rear. He stepped over the threshold and kicked the door shut behind him. In contrast to his eagerness to get you to his bedroom, it was with a great gentleness that he placed you down on his bed. He covered your body with his, a delicious weight on top of you. His fingers ghosted up the outside of your jean-clad thigh to toy with the edge of your top. You couldn’t believe this was happening, you’d just wanted some advice on your timetable and here you were roughly twenty four hours later desperate to feel him deep within you.
The soft pads of his fingertips brushed against your warm skin as he observed your reactions. He saw the hitch in your breath and how your eyes squeezed shut, overwhelmed by his presence. His eyes blown wide with lust, he visibly restrained himself from launching himself at you again. He pressed a searing kiss on your lips before pulling away. He sat back on his haunches, running a hand through his hair. You leant up on your elbows, a frown on your face.
“You still ok with this?” Henry asked, his face full of concern.
“Yes, 100%.” you smiled, tugging him closer with your finger hooked into his shirt pocket. His answering smile was enough to combust your underwear then and there. He crawled back up your body, pushing the hem of your top over your chest and off your body, exposing your bra to his gaze. He looked like all his christmases had come at once.
“In that case,” his eyes darkened, “let me take care of you.”
His face moved closer to your chest and you giggled as his hot, wet tongue traced your skin along the edge of the cup of your bra. His questing hands quickly found the clasp and discarded the lacy fabric somewhere on his floor. Those giggles soon morphed into moans as his tongue circled first one nipple and then the other. Desperate to feel more of his skin, you wiggled your hands between your bodies and started to undo the buttons on his shirt.
You got the first few buttons undone but became impatient and tugged the shirt out of his trousers. You felt his laughter against your breast as one of the buttons popped and pinged across the room.
“Eager are we?” he looked up at you from his perch, eyes alight with mirth.
He sat up, straddling your hips and pulled the entire shirt off. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of shirtless Henry. Your eyes followed the trail of dark hair down his chest and stomach to where it disappeared below his belt and your mouth watered at the thought. You couldn’t resist reaching out to touch, but before you’d laid more than a palm on him, his fingers slotted around your wrist and pulled your arm away.
“Uh uh,” He tutted, “Just enjoy”
He placed your arm above your head, quickly followed by the other. His fingertips smoothed over your skin from your wrists to your shoulders and along your collarbone. He took his time with his ministrations, stopping again at your chest to palm your breasts with an ardent touch. His touch was like fuel to a roaring fire, by the time he ran his fingers around the waistband of your jeans, you were squirming beneath him. Your hips moving of their own accord to seek the non-existent friction you so desperately craved. Henry made quick work of the fastenings of your jeans and began to tug them from around your hips. As he pulled, he tugged you down the bed. That is until he tugged a little too hard and fell off the side of the bed onto the floor, jeans in hand. You cackled with laughter as his brown mop reappeared with a blush on his cheeks. You smiled and beckoned him back with the crook of your finger. He clambered to his feet and removed his jeans too before eagerly returning to his place between your legs, the remainder of laughter still falling from his lips.
Pulling him close, you relished in the warmth of skin against skin and kissed him for all you were worth. Whilst Henry was distracted, you wrapped your legs around his waist and flipped the pair of you. The look of shock on Henry’s face quickly faded to one of bliss as he felt the heat of your core pressed against his erection. You rocked your hips against his, causing him to groan. Warmth spread through your limbs as you rubbed up against Henry, taking the edge off the need coursing through your veins. His head tilted back, the cords in his neck standing out. But the picture of sin he made like this made your heart skip a beat.
“Mmm, I won’t last long if you keep doing that baby.” Henry bit out between grunts.
Henry suddenly sat up a little, one arm wrapping around your waist to steady the pair of you as he fumbled with the set of drawers next to the bed.
“Here, let me.” you replied softly. “Which drawer?”
You leant over the edge of the bed towards the drawer Henry indicated and he relented, leaning back to allow you room to move. Coincidentally, it gave him a great view of your rear. There’s no way Henry didn’t notice the goosebumps that swept down your back at the low whistle he emitted at the sight.
“Henry!” You chastised, the laughter in your voice difficult to disguise “Where are they?”
“Yeah, top drawer, blue box.” he supplied distractedly, as his fingers played with the edge of your underwear.
You tried searching the top drawer next to his bed but it was difficult when Henry was so distracting. You tried to stifle the pleased hum that left your lips at his attention, wanting to focus on finding the condoms. But Henry had no intention of making it easy. When his fingers breached the edge of the silky material to stroke gently between your lips, he let out an unmistakable groan at the wetness he found there. You thought it would entice him to help the process along but if anything, it spurred him further in the opposite direction. A few moments later and your underwear was around your knees, his hand firmly lodged between your thighs.
The pads of his fingers rubbed a gentle rhythm on your clit that had you rocking on his hand in moments. One hand alone still strived to complete the task that would allow you to finally feel him. However, when you finally held the battered and squashed cardboard box in your hand, you were moments away from the point of no return. Your thighs shook with the effort of holding back but when he slid a thick finger inside you, you were a goner. Euphoria raced through your veins and your vision blurred as Henry pulled the orgasm from you, prolonging it with a determination that made you drop the box on the floor, clutching the bed sheets in your fists instead.
“Fuuuuuck” was the only word you could utter as you came down from your high. You turned back to Henry, who had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. You stood, discarding your useless underwear and retrieving the box of condoms from the floor.
“My turn.” you purred, fixing him with your best sultry gaze.
You made a show of crawling back up the bed once more, only to pull down his underwear with excruciating slowness. Your mouth fell open in mild shock as you finally saw what the cheeky but shy Henry was packing. You opened the pack and carefully tore open the foil, eyes flicking up to capture Henry’s every few seconds. The colour of his eyes was barely visible around his lust blown pupils as he regarded you from the head of the bed. You savoured the almost whines that came from Henry as you held him in your grasp. You grinned at the helpless man as you took your sweet time rolling the condom down his not inconsiderate length.
“Fuck. Lisa, baby, please.” Henry begged and gasped as you squeezed him a little at the base.
Your eyes didn’t leave his as you positioned yourself above him. Simultaneous groans of pleasure echoed in his bedroom as you were joined inch by heated inch. The sparks of arousal shot up your spine and settled in your chest and face until you could no longer think straight. The feeling of his girth splitting you open was otherworldly, eyes rolling back into your skull at the heady feeling. A sigh trickled from your lips as Henry bottomed out inside you. The feeling of being stretched, of being filled up to the hilt had you on the edge of pleasure once more and neither of you had even moved yet. Henry’s hands followed your curves to rest on your waist, encouraging you to move. You pulled up and down in a slow motion that had Henry’s grip tighten on your hip bones, not enough to leave marks but enough that your muscles would remember the next day. Every movement sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, your hips rolling back and forth as you took your pleasure. You leant over to kiss the moans from his lips, ripped from him with each thrust of your hips. Henry held you tightly, fucking up into you with an fervent pace as he chased his high too.
Then it was as if time had stopped as you were violently shoved into an abyss of pleasure. Henry kept going, prolonging each sizzle of pleasure with his demands on your body until he stopped with a final deep thrust. You felt the throb of his orgasm even through the haze of a post orgasmic glow. He pulled you close to his chest where you could feel the rapid beat of his heart against yours. Your eyes fluttered shut, luxuriating in the warmth and closeness. You stayed like that for a few moments until a yawn from you broke the silence.
“I guess it’s time for a cup of coffee.” he kissed you on the forehead, rolling you to the side so he could stand.
You looked at him with a questioning stare. He chuckled, chucking the used condom in the bin. He stood completely naked without a care, shamelessly looking over your naked body.
“There’s no way I’m letting you put on a single piece of clothing for the rest of the night” he replied, thumb softly rubbing across your chin.
The deep tone of his voice sent a shiver down your spine but before you could retaliate, he was walking away with a swagger in his step. He kicked his underwear up into his hand as he walked towards the door. With one fluid step of practised ease, he was decent and walked out of the room.
“And it’s going to be a long one.”
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grufflepuff-writes-stuff · 7 months ago
Hands Through My Hair (Loki/Reader Lullabies #182)
Fandom: Marvel/Avengers
Pairing: Loki/Reader
Category: Fluff. Fluff without plot.
Rating: G.
Summary: Trying to hide how you’re feeling from Loki is probably not the best idea you’ve ever had, but you just can’t expect him to keep comforting you forever, can you?
Warnings/Notes: Okay, many of the Lullabies, this fic does take place during quarantine, but the reader does not have COVID. This is just a sick!fic, not a let’s-jam-the-real-world-into-these-escapist-stories!fic. Like probably everyone else, I get really needy when I’m not feeling well, but with the sheer amount of time I spend lately not feeling well, I’m getting tired of complaining about it. Go get some water before you read this fic! Have you eaten anything recently? Have you smiled at yourself in the mirror? I love you all and I hope you’re doing alright out there.
Hands Through My Hair
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You felt...bad. Gross. Sore and achy and exhausted and miserable. It wasn’t the best way to start a lovely spring day.
By now, after all this time in the middle of...well, everything, you and Loki were both pretty familiar with days like this. Keeping yourself shut up in your apartment and spending your free time worrying about the future of the world, it tended to run you down. Headaches and general discomfort were really just part of that so-called “new normal” for you. Thankfully, Loki had stayed here with you this whole time. He showed up unannounced last year and hunkered down with you and never gave a single indication that he resented your tiny apartment, or your wobbly health, or just the fact that he couldn’t ever truly escape from your presence.
You owed him a lot, really.
So this morning, when you opened your eyes and had to suppress the urge to groan, you did not roll over to hide your face in your pillow. If he were awake right now, and knew how you were feeling, he would not hesitate to pull you even closer and speak to you in that lovely low, raspy morning-voice of his. He’d hold you there all day, or at least for as long as you could allow him to before the press of obligations forced you out of bed. The idea of that was...tempting, but you couldn’t give in today.
He’d told you, in the past, that it felt like an honor when you let him hold you when you weren’t feeling well. He was sweet and lovely, and you knew that he’d never lie to you, but it was still hard to believe him, at least when it came to that. He had better things to do than lie around with you all morning while you moaned and groaned about how bad you felt all the time.
Quietly, you forced yourself out of bed. A shower might make you feel better. You soldiered through your entire get-ready-for-the-day routine even though the throbbing behind your eyes made you long to crawl back into bed. You forced yourself to dress—comfortable clothes, of course, since there was little to no way that you’d be getting any work done today—and ventured out into the kitchen. As rotten as you felt, you were, at least, hungry. There had already been plenty of mornings where Loki had gotten out of bed only to find you sitting forlornly on the couch with a sad piece of toast sitting nearby, and every time he caught you like that, he felt like he had to make you breakfast.
So you cooked, instead. You did it as quietly as you could, but the noise—or perhaps the smell of the food—must have woken him up anyway, because, before long, he was sneaking up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist. You flinched a little, but didn’t cry out or try to pull away from him. In fact, you actually allowed yourself to lean backwards to allow him to support some of your weight. He buried his face in the side of your neck and drew in a deep breath, something which always made a delicious thrill run through you. Today, there was a little too much of an Edge to that shiver. Surely you weren’t actually feverish, were you?
“You smell divine,” he murmured against your skin before gently drawing your earlobe between his teeth. “You’re giving me all sorts of ideas, darling.”
When you laughed, you sounded a little off-balance, but that was normal too, at least when Loki was holding you like this. You moved one hand to rest gently against the back of his. “Well, my prince, unless those ideas are about setting the table and sitting down to breakfast with me, I’m not interested in them right now.” The words were stern, so you softened them to the best of your ability with a gentle squeeze to his hand, and you got to hear Loki’s fond chuckle as he softened as well. He was so beautiful. How could he possibly belong here?
You pushed the thought aside by dishing out food onto a plate for him and then shoving it into his hands. He accepted it with a murmured thanks and leaned in for a kiss. For half a second, you were tempted to turn your head and offer him your cheek, but decided against it. It’d only make him suspicious. So you allowed him to kiss you, soft and sweet and gentle, but then pulled away before he could start to try to take it any further. He said nothing, only joined you at the table and began to eat.
“No work today?” You were both good at sitting in comfortable silence together, but this morning he was the first to speak. When you shot him a questioning look, he gestured towards your body. “Your clothes. You don’t look like you plan to shackle yourself to your computer all day.”
You should have known. He was so observant, so apparently capable of understanding things with hardly more than a single glance. A sheepish smile worked its way across your face and you ducked your head to avoid looking at him. “Yeah, I—I decided I wanted to leave it for today.” You held your tongue to keep from saying anything else, but his eyes lit up all the same.
“I’m so glad to hear that! Will you go out with me? Outside? I was going to take a walk, but if you’re not working, I would love to have you by my side.”
You might have thought that your silly little walks through the neighborhood would have lost a lot of their shine after repeating them for months on end, but the winter had been long and cold, and the two of you had more or less stayed right here. Now that the days were growing warmer, it was hard to blame your love for wanting to get back out into the air. Your temples throbbed a little at the idea, perhaps in protest. You really just wanted to stretch out on the couch and nap the day away. You couldn’t tell him that. If you did, he’d worry, and then you’d have to tell him that you weren’t feeling well yet again. So you did your best to give him as genuine a smile as you could muster and tried to ignore the guilt that gnawed at you as he gave you that precious beaming grin.
Later that afternoon, you found yourself standing in the bright sunlight with the celestial prince who loved you. It should have been wonderful and lovely, but the sun was making your headache worse. You held your tongue—and his hand—and allowed him to lead you through the streets. The two of you made conversation, as you often did, and if he noticed the way your responses were always just a fraction of a second too slow, he didn’t mention it. Here and there an immature anger would rise in you, almost always a result of something else going on: why is that dude blaring his horn over and over again? Why is that kid screaming? Why isn’t that person wearing their mask correctly? Why is the sidewalk so messed up? Each time it did, it was a struggle to choke it down again, but you sure as hell weren’t about to subject Loki to the sharp meanness that you could feel surging within you. He seemed happy to be out in the fresh air with you, and that should have been more than enough.
You did your best to hold your own in the conversation. Over the course of your life, you’d learned that the best way to keep someone from focusing on you was to keep them focused on themselves, so you just kept asking him questions. But there was another motivation to your choices: Loki deserved someone who could focus on him all the time. He was vibrant and strong and just so much more than everyone else on this planet, and it just felt wrong to have him all to yourself for so long and not recognize that. So your questions were legitimate. You didn’t have to wrack your brain to try to come up with things that you wanted to say to him, because it was all already there in your mind. And in your heart. You loved the sound of his voice, and you wanted to cry every time you realized how open he was allowing himself to be with someone like you. So you listened to him talk about himself, and his life, and Asgard, and all the lonely, painful moments that he was brave enough to tell you there in the sunlight. Through it all, you gripped his hand tightly.
You started feeling tired way earlier than normal. That was a little alarming, but you pushed it aside by reminding yourself that whatever was going on in your body was just eating up your energy. And it’d been a few months since you really had to get out and move, so of course your fitness and your stamina was at an all-time low for you. For a while, Loki showed no signs of flagging, until you came to the sobering realization that you were going to have to be the one to ask him to head back home. Just as you were trying to decide how you could tell him that you wanted to go back without making him feel like he had to cut his walk short on your behalf, he pointed the two of you back towards your apartment without a word. Even when you ventured a glance up at him from beneath your eyelashes, he gave nothing away, only kept on telling you the most magical stories.
The fresh air was good for you, but as soon as you got back home, you let yourself crash on the couch. You grabbed a book first, to make it look like you were definitely planning to do some reading, but you were pretty sure that you weren’t fooling him. You curled up in the corner of the couch and opened your book, and promised yourself that you’d just rest here for a little while—less than an hour, surely—and then promptly slipped right into a deep sleep.
When Loki woke you with his fingers in your hair and his lips pressed gently to your forehead, the sky was already darkening outside the windows. You groaned at how long you’d clearly slept, and tried to pull yourself up into a sitting position, but he only tutted quietly at you and told you to be still.
“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “You must be starving. I know it’s my turn to cook. I’ll make something really fast. Or we can order takeout, if you don’t want to wait?” Everything felt a little dizzying, and you weren’t a fan of how croaky your voice was. How long had you been asleep, really?
He crouched down a little then, to meet your wild gaze, and only smiled tolerantly at you. He didn’t stop stroking the top of your head. “Breathe, darling, it’s alright. I’ve come to wake you for dinner. Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?”
Heat rose into your cheeks and you had to close your eyes to try to escape the gentle way he was looking at you. “No, I’m fine.” You didn’t exactly like trying to lie to him, especially when he clearly already knew the truth, but maybe it was a necessary evil. Maybe he’d understand and let it go, just this once. When you tried to sit up again, he was quick to help you.
“You were sleeping like the dead, dear heart, and you only do that when you’re ill.” He pressed his lovely cool hand to your forehead. Whether or not you were feverish, the feeling of his skin soothed the pressure in your head, and you allowed yourself to press a little more firmly into his touch. “Was it sudden? Just after we got back this afternoon?”
Now that he was this close, looking directly into your eyes, you knew better than to continue to try to lie to him. Though it pained you, you shook your head and lowered your eyes. “I woke up know...bad. But not bad enough to whine to you about it! I’m sick all the time lately. I’m tired of whining to you about it.”
He let himself fall forward a bit, so that he wound up kneeling before you, and then he cupped your cheeks in his palms. He didn’t look angry, you told yourself, which was...good. His forehead did crease as he looked at you, though, which made that sick and squirmy feeling take hold of you. He was hurt.
“Treasure of my heart, everything that you thought you knew is in flux right now. The ground is shifting beneath your feet with every step you take. That is exhausting. Of course it’s taking its toll on your precious mortal body. It is not whining when you seek out comfort and reassurance on those worst days; it’s taking care of yourself. And the fact that you come to me for those things, despite my ghoulish past? I would face down the Mad Titan a thousand times before I even dared to call that anything but the most precious gift you could ever offer to me.” He brushed his thumbs along your cheekbones. It soothed the pressure in your head, but also a hollow ache in your chest that you hadn’t noticed before just now. “Look at me. Please, will you look at me?”
If it were anyone else in the world, you probably would have shaken your head. If it were anyone else you’d ever dated, you would probably already have been on your feet by now so you could go and take your turn making dinner. But this was Loki. It was Loki, who saw things about you that no one else ever had. It was Loki, who put more care and affection into the way he said your name in his sleep than some of your past partners had ever shown you at all. What was there that you wouldn’t do for him?
You looked up to meet his eyes again, and he smiled that slow, warm smile that made your insides go all warm. As though he’d been reading your mind, he said your name, and perfect adoration dripped from the sound. “I can’t believe you stole from me the ability to take you into my arms this morning or to cradle you here on this couch while you slept this afternoon. There was so much that I could have been doing for you all day, and you’ve taken it all from me.” The words might have shamed you if it were not for the way his eyes were still absolutely shining at you. That allowed you to venture a tiny smile at him, which only made his own grow wider. “If I didn’t know you any better, I’d surely call you horrifically cruel, but I think, for now, that I’ll settle for endearingly foolish. Come and eat with me, my love, so that I can spend the rest of the evening making up for lost time.”
And, as he pulled you to your feet and guided you gently into the kitchen, you found that the thought of allowing him to dote on you like that was beginning to fill you with not guilt, but excitement.
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ymiwritesstuff · 7 months ago
See how in my rules it says that I’ll probably never write full-blown sex? Well, I broke my own rule and wrote smut for our boy Bertholdt! This wasn’t supposed to be a smut fic at first but then I said fuck it and this was born. Now please remember that this is my first time writing smut so if it’s absolute garbage, I’m sorry lmao. Anyway hope you enjoy and no, I won’t be taking requests for full-on NSFW scenarios. At least not yet.
Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan
Bertholdt Hoover x Fem!Reader
Summary: With conflicted feelings about his mission and his love for you, Bertholdt opens up and cannot resist the pressure any longer.
Notes: SMUT, Unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, Angst, Bertl making sure you feel good :) 18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
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Don’t get attached. That’s what Bertholdt had been telling himself ever since this gruesome mission began. He thought it to be easy initially, just keep to yourself and don’t talk to anyone unless necessary. It was crucial in order to secure the success of their mission, a mission that weighed heavily on his shoulders.  
The more time he spent among the people he was taught to hate, the heavier the weight grew, the conflict within him raging like a storm at sea. He understood his mission but he began to realize the reality of things and couldn’t help but question all the things he had been taught. Was it really that different? Was he really that different?
Devils, they said. They were nothing but devils and deserved to perish from this world of cruelty and anger. A world in which they didn’t deserve to live. That’s all he knew, yet he began to question all of it. Bertholdt saw the faces of these so-called devils, witnessed their actions, and soon recognized that he was no different from the people he, for his entire life, thought to be evil.  
The burden he carried only got heavier as his mind was still on his duty as a Warrior, but at the same time, he had foolishly allowed himself to break the one rule he had created for the sake of his mission and he broke it over and over again whenever he passionately stared into those (E/C) eyes.
Attachment plagued him, yet he fell victim to it. From the moment his green eyes landed on you, something in his core twitched, an anxious sensation that tried to warn him burned within him, but simultaneously, he couldn’t resist the forbidden feelings of affection, he couldn’t resist you. Whenever you looked at him with that same affection he was supposed to defy, held his hand, kissed him, his mind rebuked him, but his heart perfused with a warm feeling of bliss he hadn’t felt in years. Maybe that was why denying his feelings proved utterly painful. If Bertholdt lost you, he would lose the only being in this cursed world capable of bringing him happiness and making him forget the harsh reality of his duty. A duty which he, despite everything, had to fulfill.
“Everything okay, Bertl?”
The sound of your voice brought him back from the depths of his thoughts. They tended to wander at leisure times like this. You had decided to spend your day off together as per usual and while he enjoyed sitting on the soft grass with you, at least during training he would have something to keep him distracted.
“Yeah,” he replied, glancing at you. “Just thinking.”
You noticed the wistful look in his eyes and scooted closer to him.
“You seem to be doing that a lot these days,” you said, placing your hand on his that was resting on the ground. “Something on your mind?”
‘Yes, there is,’ he wanted to say but knew he couldn’t. He never could. Not without risking everything. Bertholdt knew you often worried about him, and he was grateful for that, but he couldn’t help but question if your concern was undeserved. Still, he knew he wasn’t getting out of this one.
“It’s just…” he began, trying to find the right words to use. He sighed. “Why are we doing this? Risking our lives trying to fight for what’s right? There’s just so much we don’t know.” His gaze moved to the ground and you squeezed his hand, listening to his heavy, partially mendacious words carefully.
“Is it even worth it? To die for this cause, we don’t know anything about.” He sighed, shaking his head. “What are we even fighting for, really?” Questions roamed in his head, and the fact that he couldn’t state the exact reason for his discomfort only plagued him more. It was all so overwhelming, yet he found himself seeking comfort from you, despite the guilt he felt.
“Bertholdt…” You slowly got up enough so you could climb onto his lap, facing him and looking him into his troubled orbs. The sight saddened you.
“We’re trying to make this cruel world better and fight for our freedom,” you told him, resting your hands behind his neck. His own settled on your waist. “And while It’s true that there isn’t much good left in this world…” You moved your hands to his face, caressing the skin of his cheek with your thumbs in hopes of comforting him and cheering him up.
“People like you make it better.”
Bertholdt’s eyes widened slightly at that and for a moment he thought he had misheard you. However, once he saw that hopeful glimmer in your (E/C) eyes he knew he hadn’t.
“...People like me?” he asked, voice quiet and filled with disbelief, your words creating conflict within him. His eyes found the grass once again. “I… I doubt it…” He wanted to believe you, he truly did, but at this point, it was anything but possible. Still, you pressed on, not knowing any better.
“Nonsense.” You gently took a hold of his face again and made him look at you once more. “Why do you think I love you?” You pressed a kiss on his lips and felt his hands gripping your waist a bit tighter. He looked into your eyes and was reminded again and again that all of this was wrong. Forbidden. Yet, he couldn’t resist it, not when you looked at him with such affection.
The genuine kindness in your eyes was a contrast to his unsure and doubtful gaze. He pressed his forehead against yours and allowed himself to smile slightly. With you, he could forget the cruelties of the world and truly feel joy in a way he never thought possible.
If you truly were nothing but a devil who had viciously seduced him, it had worked, as he was so addicted to the feeling. To hell with the unwritten rules he had broken. To hell with the mission. He pushed it all to the side as he closed the gap between you, pressing his lips against your soft ones as if he was a starving man.
You were caught off guard by the sudden kiss, but returned it, feeling his hands pull you closer to him. His mouth moved hungrily against yours, the action surprising you as it was rare for him to take the initiative. Your mouths moved in sync as if made for each other, both of you trying to enjoy the moment as much as possible. You allowed his tongue to slip into your mouth, letting out a faint moan as the atmosphere gradually got more heated.
Your hands found their way to his covered chest and you wanted nothing more than to rip his shirt off and roam your hands along his skin. Bertholdt’s face heated up as he kissed you, feeling you slowly grind against him, desperate to have him close.
As the lack of air became apparent you were forced to pull away, though you kept him close. Low pants escaped both of your lips, faces reddened from the steamy make-out session. There was lust in his soft eyes and it made your core burn.
“Should we… Take this inside?” You impatiently asked between pants. His hands trembled slightly as they often did during moments like these. He swallowed a lump of nervousness and nodded.
With that, you stood up and he took your hand as you began making your way inside, anticipation and excitement raging within both of you.
When you reached the door that led to the boys’ dorm you were already attacking him with your mouth, not caring if someone was inside, though it was unlikely as, at this time of day, everyone not having a day-off would be training. The door opened and both of you managed to pull away for a few seconds to notice that the large room full of beds was indeed empty before returning your attention to each other.
You held his face as you kissed him and felt one of his hands leave your side to close the door behind him. You whispered his name as he slowly led you towards what you assumed was his bed. You had only ever had sex in yours.
His fingers tugged the hem of your shirt in a silent question to remove it, and you were happy to oblige. The garment was promptly thrown on the floor, leaving you in your bra. Bertholdt’s eyes took in the sight before him and his hands didn’t waste any time exploring your exposed skin.
His hungry lips found the skin of your neck when he softly pushed you onto the bed, a soft sigh slipping your lips as he trailed his mouth along your neck. You gripped his hair as he moved lower, stopping at your covered breasts. He looked up at you.
“Can I..?” He quietly asked. He always asked. Despite knowing that he didn’t need to. He always put your amenity and pleasure before his own.
You smiled and nodded at him, after which you felt his hand unclasp your bra from behind. You shuddered as the cool air hit the bare skin followed by the feeling of Bertholdt’s gentle hands-on your mounds. His touch was delicate, as he was afraid that you would crumble under his bloodstained hands as everything else did.
A moan from your lips echoed around the room when you felt his mouth cover one of your nipples, the sensation sending shocks of pleasure across your body. The heat between your legs grew the more his tongue circled the sensitive bud and in turn, your noises made his cock twitch in his pants.
Your hands gripped his dark hair and you arched your back against him, incoherent words leaving your mouth at every opportunity. You sang his name like a prayer, which made him want to hear your angelic voice even more.
He released your breast and continued to cover your body with soft kisses, moving further down. Each time his lips made contact with your skin a soft moan accompanied the pleasant sensation. You felt him begin unzipping your pants and you were quick to assist him, not wanting to wait any longer.
Bertholdt took a moment to admire your smaller from under him, despite the enormous urge to be inside you. His eyes held nothing but admiration as he looked at your almost bare body in awe, keeping one hand on your side. You couldn’t help but notice that he still had his shirt on, which only served as a reminder that he truly put your enjoyment first.
“Gonna take that off?” You asked with a smirk and pointed at his shirt with your eyes, toying with the hem of the fabric. He snapped out from whatever trance he was under and his face got a new shade of crimson to it. He muttered a quick yes before pulling the shirt over his head, allowing your eyes to feast on his toned body.
You immediately trailed your fingers along the surface of his abs, your feathery touch making him shiver as he lowered himself to capture your lips in another, almost desperate kiss. You held the back of his neck as he pulled away, his gentle eyes looking into your (E/C) ones.
“You’re beautiful.” His voice was a mere whisper and his words sent pleasant shivers down your exposed spine. He planted another kiss on your lips before moving his head between your legs. Soft lips met the skin of your inner thighs, making you gasp and moan, your soaked panties begging to be removed. You instinctively opened your legs for him as he shifted his attention to painfully slowly removing your underwear. You were sure he did this on purpose just to subtly tease you.
The air felt cold against your wet cunt but the warmth quickly returned when you felt Bertholdt pressing his lips against it. You moaned and writhed at the feeling, your toes curling and nails digging into the sheets below you. This was the first time his mouth explored the most sensitive area of your body and the overwhelming feeling of bliss made you wonder why on earth hadn’t he done it before.
His tongue traced your folds, his face buried deep between your thighs, with seemingly no intentions of leaving. Your aching and soaked cunt mixed with his incredibly adept tongue created the lewdest sounds and sensations neither of you couldn’t have ever imagined. The sounds your mouth let out made the tightness in Bertholdt’s pants almost unbearable, his cock begging to be let out.
Your body twitched uncontrollably when the tip of his tongue flicked your clit and you grabbed a fistful of his dark hair. His name left your mouth over and over again as he sucked the juices your wet cavern produced a low moan rumbling against your folds that made you feel like you were afloat.
The moans you let out grew louder as he focused his attention exclusively on your clit, circling the bud with his tongue and sucking on it vigorously. Your heavy panting filled the hot air around you, your hips bucking against his mouth with every lick, carrying you closer to your climax.
Your head fell to the side, breathing heavy and mixed with soft whimpers that echoed around the room. You prayed to whatever god there was that no one was around to hear how much this man made you moan and yearn for him. It was almost sinful how well he used his mouth, leaving you no room to think properly as waves of pleasure hit you with every tiny movement he made. 
As if sensing your approaching orgasm, you felt him easily push two of his slender fingers into you, your needy cunt swallowing them with little to no effort as a loud moan erupted from your throat. He pumped his fingers into you while toying with your clit with his mouth, hitting you with a surge of euphoria you had never experienced.
His mouth and fingers worked in tandem to get every possible reaction from you. The heat from your cunt traveled across your entire being as he skillfully fucked you with his fingers.
Bertholdt’s ears were filled with the lewd sounds your pretty lips formed as his fingers pumped you relentlessly. He felt a sense of pride from the fact that he was the one making you feel this good. You clenched around his digits, desperate to come undone from his fingers and mouth.  
“Bertholdt,” you breathed. “I… I’m close…” As soon as those words, mixed with your desperate whimpering reached his ears Bertholdt picked up the pace and pumped his digits in and out faster while his mouth did its magic on the rest of your throbbing heat. Your voice grew more and more desperate as you reached your peak and came undone on his fingers, your walls twitching and clutching onto them.
Heavy pants flew out of your lips as you came down from your high. Bertholdt pulled his fingers out of you, glistening in your juices. His mouth detached itself from your core and made its way to your lips. You tasted yourself as you kissed him, pulling him closer, your sweaty chest pressing against his.
He pulled away, looking at you once again with those gorgeous eyes of his that held a look of craving and desire. He looked as if he wanted to say something, and when you felt his clothed erection poking your thigh, you already knew what it was.
“Can you… Can you still keep going?” You were surprised to hear him out of breath but you figured it was mostly due to the usual nervousness he had when the two of you were intimate. A sweet smile makes its way to your lips as your heart soared at his selfless question. You knew for a fact that all he wanted right now was to have his cock buried in your cunt and was probably barely able to hold himself back yet he was still willing to take care of it himself in case you were too exhausted from your intense orgasm. Fortunately, you weren’t.
“Yes. Yes, I can,” you replied, placing your hand on his cheek. He kissed the palm of your hand as a sign of gratitude and started removing his pants and underwear, finally freeing his hard cock that was dying to be inside of you. Your eyes immediately glued themselves on it. No matter how many times you saw it, the size always impressed you. The tip dripped with precum and you could tell by just looking at it how desperately he wanted you. The same desperation hit you as you felt your core heating up again.
He settled between your legs, his tip barely touching your entrance. The empty feeling made you whine and buck your hips against him, desperate for some kind of relief. Bertholdt took your voice and movements as a sign to slide into you, your cunt stretching around him as he did. Both of you let out breathy gasps and quiet moans and Bertholdt did his best not to start slamming into you right away, wanting you to tell him when you were ready.
You breathed heavily and adjusted to his length as he slowly buried himself into you. He watched your face twist in pleasure, his cock practically made for your tight cunt that clenched around him so perfectly.  
“You alright?” He asked once he was fully in you, voice mixed with low pants. You swallowed and nodded, feeling an intense amount of pleasure just from having him in you. “You… You can move,” you finally said, unable to withstand the quiescence. He pressed a quick kiss on your lips before slowly beginning to thrust into you.
Whimpers from your lips filled the sex-filled air as he moved in and out of you, every thrust making you want more. You moaned his name and each time Bertholdt responded by plunging himself deeper into your soaking core. His lips found yours again as he was desperate to feel you as much as possible, almost fearing that you would slip away from him.
You felt perfect around him. Your walls gripped onto his throbbing length, tightening every time he hit the spot he knew made you weak. He kissed your neck and collarbone, his own, low moans vibrating against your damp skin. He loved the way you trembled and twitched, how small you looked under him as he fucked you. He loved the muddled words of pure pleasure you let out, he loved how you with your eyes and gaze alone you begged him to fuck you faster. God, he loved you.  
In this moment of intimacy, Bertholdt allowed himself to forget the things troubling him. How he had gotten attached. How he had broken his own rule. He threw all of that out the window and focused on making love to you in the most passionate way possible. His mind was clouded by the unreal feeling of your cunt around him. He fucked you as if it was the last day of his life. The importance of his mission crumbled and the only thing that mattered to him now was you.
His pace was faster than it had ever been. There was something different about how he thrust himself into you, how his cock throbbed every time you said his name and gripped him. Your nails dug into his back, your mind trying to comprehend the intense sensation throughout your being. He hit that spot again, making you throw your head back and let out a strained moan.
The sound of skin slapping against another’s filled the air, both of you drowning in the euphoria the other provided. Your core was on fire, surrounding his cock with its hot walls as he hit your g-spot multiple times. Bertholdt’s face was inches away from yours, wanting you as close as possible as he fucked you intensely.
“(Name)…" He panted in between thrusts, trying to form coherent sentences through his own pleasure. He buried his face in your hair, heavily breathing into your ear. 
“I love you.”
His words cut you off guard, but you embraced them, wrapping your legs around his waist, moaning at the new angle his cock hit the deepest parts of your cunt. “I... I love you too,” you whimpered, your mouth partially agape. Bertholdt kissed the shell of your ear feeling his orgasm building up from the unreal feeling of being drowned by your core. 
Your moans became louder as his lips moved to your neck, combined with a burning sensation caused by his cock. Your own climax was near as well, and Bertholdt could feel it as you tightened around him. This made him let out a moan of his own, as he continued to fuck you with uncontrollable speed, chasing his orgasm. 
“Don’t pull out,” you quickly blurted out, desiring to feel his cum nowhere else but inside you. Bertholdt looked at you, uncertainty painting his crimson face. 
“A-are you sure?” He asked in between gasps and moans. Even when he was at his absolute limit, he wanted your confirmation. The only response you could give was vigorous nodding and whimpering, pulling his face closer to sloppily yet passionately kiss him. 
You moaned into each other’s mouths, and you felt the knot in your core finally come undone. You came on his cock, and he followed suit, painting the inside of your cunt with his hot seed. His final thrusts were slow as he allowed you to milk him dry before pulling out, leaving you full of his cum. 
As you recovered from your second orgasm, he flopped beside you, breathing heavily, body covered in sweat. He pulled you to him, embracing your smaller form and planting a single kiss on the top of your head as he placed the blanket over you both. There was a peaceful silence that lasted for a few seconds until your voice came through: 
“People like you definitely make all of this worthwhile,” you laughed, referring to the most amazing sex you had ever experienced. “And you better believe me.” Bertholdt let out a small laugh. 
“I guess you convinced me.”  
You lifted your head slightly to kiss him on the lips, before returning to your previous position against his chest. You heard him sigh and hold you tighter.
People like him, he thought. If only you knew. Still, he would enjoy this, being with someone he loved, for as long as he could.
Because he knew that it wouldn’t last forever.
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my-darling-boy · 8 months ago
hello alastair! wondering if you can give some advice... I am fairly certain I am not cis female, but the dream career I am working towards is *very* concerned with physical appearance and unfortunately many of the people in this field are extremely conservative. I have come so far in pursuing my dreams—I honestly am shocked that I’ve been as successful as I have—but I am afraid that if I come out all of that will crumble. I am also not sure if I actually feel transmasc or if I am just nonbinary & tired of sexual harassment. I would love to hear how you knew you were transmasc as well any advice you might give for whether or not it’s a good idea to come out. thank you so much ♥️
First of all, I’m sorry you’ve been put into that kind of difficult position :(
Explaining how I knew I was a trans man is kind of difficult? Since gender and the way we figure ourselves out is a very socially oriented thing, I lack perception there since I’m autistic. For a long time, I never understood society had attached genders to clothing, toys, music, or hobbies. I didn’t even understand society had attached certain body parts and pronouns to genders! As a young kid, I simply just felt like a Person, no matter what pronouns I was called as a child. All I knew was that every time I saw what society referred to as boys, I’d think “OH that’s me! This is a direct reflection of myself!” Without words, I was always identifying with men before I...technically even knew what men were? From an early age, though I was friends with cis girls, I had mostly cis male friends because I knew I was them, not like them. But I didn’t understand why I couldn’t use the same bathroom as them or stay over at their houses. I thought, “But wait, I’m one of them... why aren’t they seeing me as exactly one of them? What’s different about me?” And tbh it wasn’t until I was about 8 when I started figuring out what genders were and that I wasn’t being perceived as a boy, and you can imagine my shock :’) I’ve only ever really known myself as a man, I didn’t suffer from dysphoria because I just didn’t think certain body parts on me were recalling my birth gender, so there wasn’t any discomfort to feel; my body parts were on me, and I’m a man so... they’re male body parts? Dysphoria isn’t compatible with the way I’ve always seen myself, and neither are a lot of the social reference points I see present in other trans people using like “gender envy” for instance. I don’t think the language available to me to describe how I knew does me any justice. It’s not that I’ve “always known” since I popped out, but at the same time, I didn’t feel I “figured it out” in the traditional sense. My male identity has always felt innate to me, for even when I had no word for it initially, the feeling was always present. I find it’s the same way you don’t have to know what lungs are to feel yourself breathe, your body just knows.
So, I guess an important part of figuring out your gender if you feel on the fence: sometimes we get so wrapped up in our outward presentation, what others think of us, social obligations, gender roles, etc, that we forget we need to look inwards too. I was lucky and was able to develop in my own little bubble which social constructs were not able to get through to sway me as a child, and because of all that introspection, unaware if the way I was presenting was “right or wrong” or “masculine or feminine” I was simply allowed to be and listen to myself.
I know I’m in no position to tell you if you should come out, cos it’s not my place. But if it’s any help or something to think about, I could share a little story?
I’m not out in my large workspace as trans, maybe only a couple people vaguely know I’m gay, no one knows I’m ace, only one person knows I’m autistic. Everyone just thinks I’m a cis man. Sometimes I think what would happen if I wore a trans flag on my shirt or an autistic infinity rainbow on my mask or a gay flag pin. Of course I think of the customers seeing me, the ones who will make comments and laugh under their breaths or call me slurs or insult me directly. And it makes me not want to wear those things sometimes, no matter how proud of myself I might feel. But then one day, a kid came into the store—and I live in a conservative area—with their parent and their sibling, and the kid had a large non-binary flag draped over their shoulders like a blanket. And I just sort of stood there for a minute. In a county even I feel afraid to reveal myself in sometimes, this kid was wearing their identity not just on their sleeve, but like a super hero cape for everyone to see. And even though I’m not non-binary, I felt seen. I thought, what if someone closeted saw my pride flag pins, or someone saw my infinity rainbow, or a trans coworker who was feeling just as alone was able to know I was trans too...maybe I could help others feel seen and learn to be even more comfortable in my own skin, maybe build up more resilience to awful people?
I guess if feel like if I come out in some situations, even when I could be wronged or laughed at, it will guide me towards the people and opportunities that are right for me and root out the bad ones so eventually I won’t have to live hiding around the clock. And maybe best of all, I can help someone else feel not so alone in a place that makes us feel like we are. If I ever found myself in a place in my life where many people looked up to me or were inspired by me, do I want them to think I’m just some cishet neurotypical guy... or do I want people who feel underrepresented to feel like they have representation and show myself I can be true to myself and accomplish what I do as I am, even when there are thousands of eyes on me? Again, definitely no one should feel obligated to come out or do any of this, cos some places are Really Awful, but it’s just something I think about in my own personal situation. Hope some of this could help??
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kpop-cakepops · 7 months ago
What if you take wonwoo to a cafe date, they are eating and drinking when he decided to confess to his bff...maybe for the snuggle donation series 🤭
I looooove youuuuuuuu for this!! Also, not gonna lie, I thought you were telling me to ask actual real life Wonwoo out for coffee 💀 like how the hELL would I do tHAT?!
Anyhow!!!! I wasn't able to make this a part of the Snuggle donation series, BUT that's probably cause your prompt actually reminded me of my very first Wonwoo story (Sunny days and Books) and I decided to give Wonwoo's POV of the day he realized he loved reader! SORRY IF IT WASNT WHAT YOU ASKED FOR BUT I CANT LET THIS IDEA GO!
Warnings: none
Genre: fluff
Word count: 1,349
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Sunny Days and Books: The Day He Fell In Love.// Jeon WonwooxFem!Reader
The day he admitted to himself that he fell in love hadn't seemed too special. You had asked him to meet you at the same coffee shop you two had met for the first time on that one rainy day that seemed so long ago. The special occasion? You had been craving coffee.
Wonwoo would typically tell you to make yourself a cup of coffee at home, however, after not seeing you for two weeks because of your exams and study groups, Wonwoo was forced to be transparent, at least with himself... he had missed you. He didn't know when or why, but you'd become important enough to him that he missed you when you were gone for too long.
"Hey there stranger." Your tired voice had brought a smile to Wonwoo's face, one that disappeared when he realized you weren't alone.
"Hey, you" Wonwoo greeted, but his cat eyes were trained on the man standing next to you, looking at him with the exact same curious and almost defensive gaze.
"Oh, this is Joshua. He's my senior and is working in campus as a teacher's aid. He was helping me study just a while ago, so I'm buying him coffee. Josh, this is Wonwoo he's my best friend."
It was odd how your introduction seemed to cause Joshua to let out a small breath of relief, but seemed to make Wonwoo tense up. "Have you ordered?" you asked.
"Yes. I ordered for the two of us, I didn't know we'd have a third joining" Wonwoo told you ignoring the way Joshua scoffed under his breath. Wonwoo knew he was being rude, but there was something inside that was just not allowing him to act rationally.
"I should've let you know, I'm sorry Wonwoo. Josh, I'll go get you a drink, is there anything specific you like?" you asked.
Joshua smiled at you sweetly, his big eyes turning into what Wonwoo could only describe as the most disgustingly cute crescents. Something he would never be able to compare to because cute wasn't exactly a word people used to describe him. "I'll have an iced Americano, thank you."
"Of course! I'll be right back!" you quipped making your way over to the register to order Joshua's drink leaving the two men alone.
"Wonwoo, right?" Asked Joshua forcing a smile at the taller man. Wonwoo, as usual, remained stoic and nodded his head. "So how long have you two known each other?" He asked.
Wonwoo's eyes met Joshua's and he smiled dryly, "about a year, we actually met at this shop. Has she told you about it?"
Joshua chuckled softly, "not at all. She doesn't really talk about you, today's the first time I hear of you actually"
Wonwoo's face faltered slightly. How was it possible that you didn't talk about him at school? You obviously weren't obligated to, but he talked about you all the time. So much that his colleagues asked about you from time to time... so how was it possible that you didn't? "Well, that's funny... I had never heard of you either" he tried retaliating.
"We just met... that's probably why"
"Hey!" Your voice interrupted whatever conversation the two had been having. "Here's your drink!"
"Thank you"
Wonwoo was really starting to hate the man in front of him. He knew it was unreasonable, Joshua hadn't exactly done anything to him personally, but there was a raging discomfort within Wonwoo that made him feel restless. A discomfort that urged him to grab your hand and tug you to sit beside him rather than next to Joshua.
"How've you been? Miss me too much?" You asked. Wonwoo smiled in your direction and nodded.
"I thought you weren't ever going to be done with exams." He told you.
"I'm sorry, I'd been meaning to call you or at least text you to let you know I'm alive, but I've been so tired." You let your head fall on his shoulder for a brief moment and smiled over at Joshua. "If it weren't for Josh, I really don't know what I would've done this exam season"
Joshua awkwardly cleared his throat. "It's the least I can do as your senior."
"Thank you seriously, I would've asked this one to help me but he's too busy being an intern" you teased.
Joshua watched the both of you closely, and you could sense what was going on inside his head. You had noticed it a few days back, the way he stole glances at you every few moments, how he always offered to help you first. You appreciated, the sentiment, but you knew it wasn't just a Senior Junior relationship he was looking for and you weren't heartless enough to tell him you liked someone else already. Someone you'd come to trust with your life in just a year.
"You guys seem awfully close, you sure you're not more than friends?" You could tell Joshua was trying to play it off in a joking manner, but you could also sense the underlying disappointment in his voice.
"Of course we're more than friends" Wonwoo blurted sending your tummy into a spiral.
"Right..." Joshua mumbled looking down at his coffee. "Listen, thank you for the coffee, but I've gotta get back to campus, I promised professor Lee I'd be there for his next lecture."
"Oh okay, that's fine. Thank you for everything, Josh. You're a really good person." You told him as you extended your hand out to him. His eyes dropped to your hand before taking it with a soft defeated smile. "Thank you. You're a really good person yourself. You be careful and let me know if you need help again, I'm always a phonecall away"
Wonwoo scoffed under his breath as he stared out the large window.
"It was nice meeting you, Wonwoo" Joshua added dryly.
"Same here" answered your best friend but he was too busy staring at nothing outside to even acknowledge the leaving man.
Once Joshua left you let out a breath. "Was that not the most uncomfortable situation you've ever been in?" You asked.
"If he made you feel uncomfortable why would you bring him along with you?" Retorted Wonwoo, his dark eyes still set on the street outside.
"Well because... he's a nice guy."
"You realize he wanted more from you than he let on, right?" He asked trying his very hardest to sound nonchalant.
"I know, I just didn't have the heart to tell him I'm not into him... that's why I asked you here" you admitted shyly.
"Me? Why me?" He asked.
"Well because... you're the closest thing I have to boyfriend. You're like my human guardian angel. So I thought I could just bring you here to intimidate him" you were so embarrassed by what you had just told him but there really hadn't been any other reason. "Plus... you were the one that told me that no matter what, I should always come to you if I had a problem"
Wonwoo smiled warmly at you, his large hand reach out to ruffle your hair. "Since when do you listen to me?" He asked.
You rested your head in his shoulder again taking the chance to close your eyes. "Some guy I know once told me that 'Comfort comes in all shapes and sizes and I’m glad you’ve chosen this mere case of a human to trust in' and I trust you."
Wonwoo sighed and let his head fall on yours. It was inevitable for him. He had spent every moment, from the first time you met to that very moment in time, trying to deny the way you made this very unknown protective instinct take over him. "Good... you should trust me. I'm always on your side." He told you.
It was useless, though, because he, the man who refused to believe in love at first sight. The man that swore depended on his intellect rather than his feelings, yes, Jeon Wonwoo himself.... hated the thought of another man by your side. Yes, Jeon Wonwoo was undeniably in love with you.
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trashytoastboi · 7 months ago
Hello! Im not feeling my best self at the moment so I was wondering if you could do headcanons for Usopp, Crocodile and Robin with a F! depressed/suicidal s/o who often comes off as calm and hides it behind a pokerface? They are my favorite characters and always manage to make me smile. I know this can be a tough subject, but if you don’t want to than I completely understand. I wanna thank you in advance and I hope you have a great day.
Hey bean, 🌻 I hope these manage to help even if only a little and sorry they took a little longer than expected. Also I know I don't do the interaction thing as much as I'd like, but if you ever need someone to talk to or just to listen my messages are always open 🍀 so never feel afraid to reach out if you just need someone to talk to 🌻
(Female pronouns)
Headcanons: Usopp, Crocodile, Robin x Depressed! F! S/O
Warning: Mentions of depression and suicidal feelings.
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🏹{Name} often felt a little unbalanced though never wanted to cause any worry, especially to those close to her. So most times when she wasn't feeling alright, it was always internalized and hidden behind a well placed smile, sometimes a chuckle and a gesture of normality, it usually kept everyone's prodding questions at bay.
🏹Though Usopp despite his usual antics and silly jokes, he was not a fool, nor an idiot and he could clearly see what was settling behind that smile. He could tell it wasn't happiness, but something else. It truly did unsettle {Name} how he could always see through her poker face.
🏹Usopp was very thoughtful, considering what could have been worrying her so much, he didn't want to outright bring the matter up if it was something {Name} felt she did not want to discuss whether due to discomfort or otherwise.
🏹It was just a little more attentiveness, a few moments more where he would just spend time with her, nothing else mattered in those moments. Usopp was always considerate in his manner and affections, gently reassuring her and letting {Name} know he is there for her, any time she needed and whenever she felt ready to speak about what was troubling her. {Name} couldn't deny that she already knew that Usopp was aware of everything.
🏹He had a tendency to want to be around {Name} a little more, Usopp was usually affectionate, though a little shy in doing so. It was bashful and innocent, lately he was a bit more open about it. Surprising {Name} with little hugs, holding her hand and lots of snuggling. He was usually adorable when he slept as he loved snuggling, but now it was in the waking hours as well.
🏹When {Name} eventually spoke to Usopp about what was troubling her, he knew she wasn't feeling too good. But the depth was a little startling to him, how she was able to hide her feelings to that extent was worrisome. Truthfully he didn't know what was the exact right thing to say, he was honest with her and could not muster any words that he felt would be enough. He could understand some of her feelings but not all and so he just decided to be there with her, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen. Sometimes if things just got too much he could be sanctuary.
🏹“It's alright {Name}, you're allowed to feel like this. You're always trying to hide it and stay strong for everyone else. You don't have to do that with me, I'm here alright? For anything. No matter what you need, I, the great Usopp will do whatever I can. Maybe my followers can build a statue of you”
🏹Usopp often trailed off, starting with comfort and spiralling into all the things he wanted to do for {Name}. He never lost his humour and acted a little more goofy and light hearted around her. Usopp never underestimated her feelings, but also tried his best to be a little change and a breath of fresh air just to help her for a glimpse of genuine smile.
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Sir Crocodile
🐊{Name} appeared to be acting like her usual self. Though truthfully that was not the case, no one saw her acting any different. It was the usual, her occasional little quirks and making conversation, maybe making a little comment or joke. Everyone just interacted with her as they usually did without anyone being any wiser of the truth. Even with Crocodile, she never acted any different, her greetings were the same, her affection. It all seemed to be normal.
🐊Crocodile would usually believe this, the little peaks and glimpses of her during his work hours, seeing her whenever he would take a moment to look up from his papers. She would flash a peaceful smile, seemingly untroubled by anything. Pride would assure him it was true, being his partner meant never having to worry about anything. But his assurance was cut short when he would catch that sad look, sometimes fixated on the floor though he knew she was not looking at the floor. Rather, she was miles away and reading through her own thoughts.
🐊Crocodile wanted to believe that things were fine but he had a nagging feeling suggesting otherwise, when it came to {Name}, he held her happiness and wellbeing above all else, so the feeling was one that could not be ignored. He wasn't sure how to approach it and felt that being outwardly direct might seem abrasive on his part.
🐊He peaked up from his pages and spotted {Name}, looking a little listless though keeping her little peaceful demeanour about her, his voice called her name and she instantly perked up and faced him with a small smile. His hand reached for her, calling for {Name} to come a bit closer. He pulled her close and held her, unable to muster the words of the things he wanted to ask but for now he just wanted her close.
🐊Crocodile toiled over the words he wanted to say, he was a man of many words but they often were not affectionate nor comforting. It was not his strong suit, charisma and seduction that took up the majority of his eloquence. Words of comfort were difficult for him, though he tried for her sake. Judgement and fear aside, his words were awkward and strained, maybe even practised but they were straight from the heart and his concern.
🐊{Name} smiled at his attempts, understanding what he meant to convey and she spoke to him honestly about how she was feeling. Not just the depressed feeling, but the suicidal feelings as well. The intrusive thoughts that would creep into her mind, telling her things Horrible things, thoughts that made her worry and scared but all this time she kept it to herself, not wanting to trouble Crocodile.
🐊“My love, please talk to me more. I may not understand everything but if it comforts you even if only a little I'm here. Anything you want, anything you need, name it, I'll make sure you have it” Crocodile spoke sincerely, accentuating his words with small gestures of affections, and cradling her face with his hand.
🐊Crocodile was a truly considerate and caring man, not that he showed it often as it was compared to showing a vulnerable side of himself which was synonymous to weakness and that was not an option for a man such as himself. But for {Name}, he would gladly be seen in that manner if it meant a little more caring and open for her sake, a little for understanding and endearing just for the one he loves.
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Nico Robin
📚With the Straw-Hat crew one could say it was almost difficult to be upset, between the adventures and idiotic moments where it was just like a party 24/7 , there wasn't much time to be left alone with your own thoughts. At least that's what many think, {Name} often would go along with the crew, going along with their antics and energy though none of it was truly her own. It was forced most of the time, not because of the crew but just the things she dealt with on a daily basis. Some days she wished to stay in bed, alone, but doing so would most likely make them worry and so {Name} just decided to pretend.
📚Nothing ever escapes the watchful eyes and ears of Robin. Not the moments where {Name}would wander off on her own just to cry when things got a bit much. Robin didn't miss the fact that she would stay up late at night, unable to sleep because her mind was too busy. Robin recognises it all, because she knows exactly what it feels like. Even through the mask that {Name} constantly put up, Robin could see through it.
📚Robin wanted to broach the subject, she wanted to help. But did not want to make {Name} feel obligated to talk about something she didn't want to and she did not want to force her help onto {Name} either, sometimes the intrusive people could make the feeling of isolation worse, at the very least in Robin's experiences.
📚Robin and {Name} were spending some time together enjoying some calm and quiet, away from the usual madness of the crew. Robin decided there was no better time than to bring it up with {Name}, it was simple and tender, Robin expressed her concern for {Name} saying she had noticed little things and wanted to make sure she was alright.
📚{Name} just curled up to Robin, enjoying the bit of comfort and the soft register of her voice, it was soothing. Robin would often read to her, it provided reprieve from her thoughts and right now Robin was making sure she was alright, {Name} realized it was not something she really could have hidden it forever, not especially from her love.
📚She felt hesitant to talk about everything she had been feeling as of late. Sometimes it was the internal fight of logic versus emotion and logic had no place amongst the feelings. Being so lost, and out of it when she felt empty. Sometimes emptiness was replaced by impulse, intrusive and disconcerting thoughts that only seemed to make her spiral deeper.
📚“{Name}... Tell me about your favourite story” It was such a random question that made her stop, her brain seemed to stop for a moment with the invasive thoughts, thinking back to her favourite story. One that made her smile and filled her with wonder. She understood where Robin was going with this, it kept the bad things out while making her think about something that makes her happy and calm.
📚“You never have to apologise my dear, it's fine to feel like this. But don't go through it alone, I know it's difficult to speak about these things, worrying about what people may think or how they will react but I know how it feels and I could not have gotten through alone, though I tried. I just want you to know that I speak from a place of understanding, and concern, no one has to fight these battles alone and neither do you.”
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spacesnail3000 · a year ago
Let It Snow Chapter 4/4: Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow
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Pairing: Steve x Reader
Word Count: 7,051
Warnings: Smut, dubcon situations, emotional manipulation, more breeding talk/pregnancy fetish, come marking, oral sex, ABO dynamics and the nasty fetishes that come with it basically
Series Masterlist  Main Masterlist
A/N: So yeah this was all supposed to be a Christmas fic or at the very least a winter fic but now it’s April so, idk? Lol at least it’s finished, thanks for sticking with me through it. I may write an epilogue but I don’t want to promise anything because I basically have no motivation/time to write these days. Anyways, enjoy and let me know what you think!
It was around midnight when Steve awoke, restless, his heart in a flurry about finally having a mate.
Steve traced the lines of her face as she slept, gazing at her with so much love in his heart that it ached like a blow to his chest during combat. She would learn to love him, and she would come to accept their bond. All would come together in time, especially once she was carrying his child, which he intended for her to be by the time her heat concluded.
Since she had passed out after their first mating, Steve had waited for his knot to go down, and then he cleaned himself up and prepared a few meals for when she woke up. He had also ventured out into the shed out back for more firewood before it got too dark. There was a good foot of snow now and even if Steve wanted to drive them home in this blizzard, he knew it would be dangerous—even with the truck.
Good thing Steve was in no rush to get back to the city. Not with a needy Omega upstairs waiting for him.
Her hormones and scent had flooded the entire house now, almost to the point of making him dizzy. As soon as he situated the firewood by the fireplace, he turned back to her, undressed, and crawled back in their nest to lay with her. He was able to sleep for quite a while before he woke up, his Alpha yearning for her so much that it resounded deep in his chest, a constant thrum like an orchestra playing a symphony crafted specifically for them, for their love.
Now there was a flicker of anxious energy, the brass instruments of their orchestra buzzing around in his mind. It presented with the urge to claim her again, to make her his in every way possible. It had been too long since he’d had her, and he needed her, needed to reinforce his ownership of her. She seemed to feel it too, shifting in her sleep, her brow furrowing, lips turning into a pout. 
While he didn’t want to wake her up, he could still assert his love for her even while she slept. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.
So he began to scent her, rubbing his face on her scent glands, rutting his cock against her thigh and hips and stomach to mark her with his musk even more. One hand trailed down between her legs, where she was leaking his semen, and he pushed it deeper into her cunt with a few thrusts of his fingers.
He kneeled above her then, fisting his cock with the same hand, covering himself in both of their juices, pulling himself off with quick, efficient strokes for one purpose only—to mark her in his come. It wouldn’t be wasteful—the serum allowed him to create copious amounts of sperm, as well as regenerate it quicker than a normal Alpha, so he had plenty more to give her once he fucked her again.
But he needed to mark her in his seed, like a proper Alpha should. It would help her through her heat, help her body come to terms with their bond, with his ownership over her.
Just the thought of his cock knotted deep inside her, filling her up again—it brought him over the edge, and he spilled himself onto her stomach and thighs, countless white stripes across her smooth flesh, glistening in the firelight.
One of his strong hands came down to massage it into her skin, working at it until her skin was sticky and slippery and coated in his essence. He spread his come over her belly, up over her breasts, palming across her bonding glands to wipe his scent on them, and then down to her cunt, where she was visibly glistening with a mixture of his come and her own slick, her body already aroused from her heat, from his scent, from their bond.
He was still hard, his erection having never flagged once since their last knotting, and still antsy on top of that. This time, he wanted her to present for him, but she was still fast asleep and he didn’t want to wake her. His poor Omega was exhausted, and she would need her sleep.
Pushing her body onto her side, he laid down on the bed behind her and maneuvered her knee up and back over his thigh, his own leg thick and imposing stuck between hers. His cock slipped in easily, and he took it slow, rocking her back and forth as he fucked her, almost leisurely, taking his time to caress and kiss every part of her that he could reach.
As soon as he was inside of her, the music in their bond mellowed out into a soothing melody, and she relaxed into him, sleeping soundly now that he was in his proper place.
His hands slid over her abdomen, cupping it in one large hand, and he imagined how she would swell for him, his pups. She would grow so round, the skin taut against her belly, stretch marks decorating it like a painting of Steve’s ownership of her. He would worship her, rub lotion on her stomach, give her kisses all over, every single day.
Then he brought his hand up to her breasts, pinching at her nipples until she was squirming in her sleep. He couldn’t wait for them to grow along with her belly, engorged with milk, sometimes so swollen and painful that his sweet Omega would beg for him to help relieve some of her discomfort when the pups couldn’t. And he would oblige her with delight, happy to do such a service for his love.
Sharp teeth sought out her scent gland, which was swollen and red from his earlier marking of her. As he licked at it, cleaning the dried blood off, and sucked softly to stimulate more blood flow, he felt their bond sparking in his chest, sharp percussion tapping along his nerves, an electrical fire hot wiring his heart alive. Burying his face in her hair at the nape of her neck, he reveled in the feel of her warmth around him, her smell fogging up his brain. She felt like home, so warm and natural and comfortable, his mind completely at ease now that he was bonded with her.
“Sweet, sweet Omega,” he whispered against her neck, digging his nose into her scent gland, smelling the hot swirling tendrils of their bond. He was barely thrusting inside her at this point, more so rocking a gentle rhythm with his hips, basking in the slick heat of her around his cock. “What did I do to deserve you?”
She whimpered, the first crack in the shelter of her dreams, but he continued his slow tempo, his soft touches on her belly and breasts and hips, wanting to ease her into wakefulness, gentle, loving.
Her brain had other ideas, startling awake at once, alert and on edge at the feel of someone in her nest, someone she wasn’t prepared for fucking her awake. She jolted in his arms, and he could immediately smell it on her, the fear and anxiety and confusion, all overlaid by the residual desire from her heat. For a moment, she struggled against him, and Steve slid his hand up her collarbone to cup her throat, using a secure hold to press her against his body.
“That’s okay, sweetheart,” he whispered in her ear, then lapped at her bond mark again. “You’re okay, you’re safe, I’ve got you—”
“Steve?” she asked, voice thick in her throat, confusion increasing with her resistance as she tried to remember what happened. It tugged at their bond, harsh and unpleasant, and Steve scraped his teeth against the bond mark to spark the memory of it in her. It worked—she shuddered against him, the mixture of his hand on her throat and his pheromones flooding her senses forcing her to relax into him despite the uncertainty still lingering in the back of her mind. The presence of a strong Alpha taking care of her willed her body into submission, and he purred against her.
“Good girl,” he cooed, fucking into her with more force now that she was awake. She keened, clawing at his hand as it gradually placed more pressure on her throat.
“Alpha!” she squeaked, hips pushing back into him.
“Let me have your body, sweetheart,” he whispered, pulling out and turning over so she was flat on her stomach. “Be a good Omega and present for me.”
He adjusted their bodies so he was kneeling behind her, and she readily went up onto her knees, her head tucked into her arms to support her neck. For a moment, Steve admired the sight of her presenting for him, the slope of her back, the width of her hips, the shine of her cunt as it glistened up at him.
“Steve, Alpha, please,” she begged, heat peaking again without a cock inside her to appease her. As she tried to push her hips back, Steve held her still, wanting to take this at his own pace—although he loved it when she begged.
“Now, now, Omega,” he said, patting her ass firmly. “Your Alpha knows best. Trust me.”
She whined, and he could see her body tremble with anticipation when he ran the tip of his cock through her slick, but she didn’t say anything else. Satisfied that he had her submission in his pocket, he pressed in slowly, making her feel every inch of him as he penetrated her. Her whine tapered off into a shuddering moan, and it became almost a sob as he bottomed out deep inside of her.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she began to chant as he began to fuck her fast, his hips slapping against hers and echoing around the bare room. He admired her from behind, the arch of her back, her hands clawing at the pillows. Running his hands over the swell of her hips, her ass, he drew one hand back and spanked her with enough force to have her gasp and cry out into the mattress.
He kneaded her ass, pulling her cheeks apart and staring at his cock pistoning in and out of her. Their combined liquids frothed at her entrance, all around his cock, from the speed at which he fucked her, and he couldn’t help but to run his thumb across where they were joined, collecting the liquid, and then lean forward and shove his finger in her mouth.
She moaned around it and eagerly sucked it off, and Steve almost came right there from her blind heat-induced enthusiasm.
He changed his pace, now deep and slow, taking his time to feel every part of her. He was so deep inside of her and as he supported himself with one arm, he brought the other down to her stomach, cupping it and feeling her, imagining the day it would swell for him. She would make such a pretty little mommy, so sweet and perfect, making the perfect home for them, for their family.
Her whimpers filled the space, turning into high pitched moans as she lost herself again to the pleasure he graced her with.
“You love this, don’t you sweetheart?” he growled in her ear. She nodded, but he wasn’t satisfied with that. “Tell me, Omega,” he commanded her, voice deep. “Tell me what you feel.”
The first few sounds to come out of her mouth when she opened it to respond were not coherent words, but punched out moans as Steve fucked into her harder. “Oh, oh, God—” she cried, but settled down as Steve repeated his command directly into her ear, using a deeper Alpha voice, the voice of the Captain, one she couldn’t help but obey. “You’re—” she gulped down a moan, “So, so big… So big inside me, and deep, Alpha. So, so good—" Her words trailed off in a whimper. “Want your knot, please, Alpha, please—”
Steve grunted into her ear, his body practically flattening hers to the mattress as he fucked her harder, the urge to knot her too strong. He brought his hand down to rub at her clit, fingers sliding easily against her skin from all of her slick. “Love it when you beg me, baby, love you so much—”
“Alpha, Alpha—need your knot—”
“Tell me you love my knot Omega, tell me you love it—”
“Love it so much—need it—need you—” Her voice weakened to a squeal as her orgasm consumed her, burying her face into the pillow and shuddering underneath Steve’s hulking frame.
At the feeling of her cunt squeezing so tight around him, Steve roared out his orgasm, his knot swelling into place and locking them together, coming so deep inside her that he could feel her cervix pressed up against the head of his cock, everything so sensitive and soft inside.
“That’s right, sweet Omega,” he cooed, grinding his cock inside of her and grinning as she mewled, “So deep inside you, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
She nodded and whimpered again, soft little sounds coming from her throat. Steve flattened his body over hers, providing a calming presence, sucking and licking at their bond until she shifted under him, at which point he turned them back to their sides and cuddled her against him with strong arms.
“Love you so much,” he whispered in her ear. She was still dizzy with pleasure, his knot pressing against her in all the right ways every time he pressed his hips into hers. He could feel her happiness and wholeness in their bond, the way she ached from how good it felt, the fogginess in her mind that remained from her orgasm.
Her heat was sated for the time being, and Steve allowed her to doze until his knot went down. At that point, he fetched some food and water for her, and when he came back into the bedroom, he roused her awake with a gentle tone. It was late and she was tired, but she needed to eat something and drink water before she went back to sleep.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmured, sitting her up and leaning her against his chest. Her head lolled back onto his shoulder, but he nudged her head up and encouraged her to drink from a water bottle. “Just a little more, honey—that’s right, that’s a good girl,” he cooed as she finished the bottle.
Based on how delirious she was, he had decided that the soup would be too messy for her to try and eat, so he fed her small bits of finger foods—dried berries, chunks of hard meat and cheese, and crackers. He hand fed her small bites and made sure she chewed them properly, letting her suckle the remnants from his fingers until she was too exhausted to eat any more.
At that point, he let her snuggle into his chest as she fell into a deep sleep, one that lasted throughout the night.
Steve awoke before her the next morning. He got up to shower, eat, and rebuild the fire, which he had tended to several times in the night. Luckily she hadn’t woken up anymore, and although he loved being inside of her, he knew she needed all the energy she could get for the coming days.
He didn’t bother putting any clothes back on, which paid off when he came back into the master bedroom to see his sweet Omega writhing in their nest, a hand between her legs. He had heard her moans coming up the stairs, but he hadn’t expected such a sight, her hair sticking to her face, glistening with sweat, her other hand clutching the pillow beside her.
“Oh, Omega,” he groaned, his hand coming down to run over his cock, already hard just at her scent, before cupping his sac in his large palm. “My sweet, sweet Omega.”
Their eyes met and she shot up, eyes focused on his cock. “Alpha,” she whispered, high and needy. “Need you, please—”
He chuckled and stroked his fist up his cock. In the back of his mind, he wondered how desperate she was for his knot, what she would do for it.
“Come and get it then, sweetheart.”
She wasted no time crawling over to him, sitting at his feet. There was a frenzied look in her eyes, a sort of wild gaze as she gave herself over to her animal instinct. “Alpha—” she mumbled, but her plea was cut short as he took a fistful of her hair and shoved her face forward onto his cock.
He didn’t enter her mouth, but instead he forced her face to rub against the skin, nose and cheeks rubbing against the skin, lips right at his balls. She moaned aloud, the animalistic display of Alpha affection going straight through her. Through their bond, he could feel her arousal grow stronger. He scented her like this, his musk all over her skin and lips until her mouth was watering and she was mouthing at his balls, yearning for his cock in her pussy.
By the time he took mercy on her and crouched down, she was dripping onto the floor. She practically threw herself on him when he finally kneeled down next to her, knocking him on his ass and tossing her arms around his neck.
She wiggled around in his arms until she was straddling his thigh, pressing her body up against his chest. “Alpha,” she whined, grappling at his neck and chest. Her eyes were glazed over again, mind fogging with the urgency of her heat. “Alpha, please, need your knot, please, I’ll do anything—”
Well, Steve really couldn’t resist it when she begged so sweet for him.
He fucked her right there on the hardwood floor, pure animal instinct, growling and rutting and locking his teeth into her neck as he came, breaking the skin once more and sending her deep into the clouds, her mind dizzy and drugged with pleasure.
Over the next two days, she was so consumed with her heat that he could barely get her to eat or drink anything between their intense sessions of fucking and knotting. As soon as he knotted her, she would be in a sleepy daze until her heat consumed her body again, turning her into a sex-starved maniac. There were several times that he had to force her to consume food or water as his knot was still inside, plugging her up with so much of his seed that he didn’t think there would be room for anything else. Sometimes he had to force her to sleep, too, rather than continue fucking her after his knot went down. Most of the time, the only way she could even fall asleep was with his knot lodged inside of her.
He was a good Alpha, taking good care of her during her heat. It filled him with satisfaction to hear her purring as she fell asleep, belly full of food, pussy full of his knot, completely and thoroughly sated until another wave of her heat woke her up. He kept her warm with the fire, kept her cozy in her nest, and he was there for her whenever she needed him to fuck her. He always knew what she needed before she needed it, anticipating every thought and urge she had, memorizing her mind like the words to a song.
Their bond was strong. He could feel her through it so clearly, and he was sure she could feel him just as well, feel his love for her, his adoration.
Steve couldn’t wait until she was all his. His kept woman, his sweet Omega, barefoot and pregnant, devoted to him and his family. Their family.
On the third day after her heat began, she slowly came back to her senses as the crippling need ebbed away.
“Steve,” she croaked sometime after his knot had gone down. She had been laying against his chest, not quite asleep, and he could feel the haze clear a little bit through their bond. Her heat was still there, he could smell it, but it was waning now.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispered, tightening his grip on her, placing a kiss on her head. She stiffened in his arms and that sour scent of confusion crept back up into their bond.
She sat up, gathering the sheet against her chest. “What—” For a long moment she was silent as she looked around, taking in her surroundings. The rumpled blankets on the air mattress, her clothes abandoned on the floor, the stack of newspapers Steve had been keeping himself occupied with when she wasn’t begging for his cock. Then she looked to Steve, eyebrows furrowed, a frown on her face. “Steve—" Her voice was hoarse, and she cleared her throat although it didn’t help much. “What day is it?”
“It’s Monday, darling,” he answered, purposefully keeping his voice even and quiet, trying to exude as much of a calming aura as possible. He could feel the turbulence on their bond, the ripples from her end as she questioned it. He wasn’t pleased at the sudden dissonance, but he also wasn’t surprised by it.
“And—and—my heat—”
“You’ve been delirious with it all weekend,” he informed her.
“All… all weekend?” He nodded and reached for her, but she pulled away. Fingers shaking, she brought her hand up to feel the skin at her neck, the inflamed gland still tender from Steve’s bite. “And you… you m-mated me…”
There had been so many reactions of hers that Steve had anticipated, so many plans he had in his head depending on her reply, and he had practiced so many different ways to respond to the feelings she felt now. He knew, from their bond, that she was confused, conflicted, saddened, angry.
“Oh, honey,” he cooed, understanding laced through his tone, just shy of condescending. “You wanted me to, remember? You begged me to bite you.”
She frowned, a lost little look on her face that made Steve want to gather her in his arms and kiss her. “That’s not true,” she whispered, “I didn’t do that… Did I?”
Of course, it wasn’t true—she didn’t beg for it, but she clearly was missing a few memories from the last few days, so Steve was going to roll with it.
“You did,” he lied, his tone steady and sure. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and she shivered from the touch. “You asked so sweet, too, when you begged me for my mark—"
She jerked away from him. “But Steve,” she hissed, eyes filling with tears as she glared at him, “Obviously I couldn’t really consent to that! To any of this! I was under the influence of my heat!”
A frown fell over Steve’s face, and his hand fell back to his side. He let that feeling sit on their bond—hurt, sadness. She could feel it, he knew, from the way she shuddered. His voice was low when he next spoke, eyes downcast. “So… you didn’t want me to mate you?”
“You don’t want to be my Omega?”
“Steve,” she whimpered, feeling the tug of their bond in her heart, the primal urge to submit to him despite her reluctance. The bond was not to be underestimated—it tied them both to each other, and no matter if she wanted it or not, it was there. Steve was utterly devoted to her, and that could be felt in every pulse of the bond, overpowering her aversion to it.
And she was a sensitive girl, too—so sweet and empathetic, never wanting to hurt anyone. The first time she said no to a date with him, she told him how bad she felt, how she didn’t want to let him down, but she couldn’t compromise the project. Now, she could clearly feel his love for her. She could feel his devotion. And she could feel his pain, too, he knew, and he could tell it was hurting her just as much as it hurt him.
 He would simply have to convince her that it was the right thing for them, that it was meant to be. And, well, if she continued to reject him, reject their bond—he had a plan for that contingency, too.
Steve sat up opposite of her, taking her hands in his and forcing her to look at him. “Sweetheart, I know you’re not sure about this,” he began, pouring as much sincerity into his words as possible. “But I wanted this before it happened. I wanted to be with you before we came up here—and I know you wanted me, too.”
“No, Steve,” she shook her head.
“You didn’t want me? Can you honestly say that?”
“No, you need to be honest with me, sweetheart. Because I don’t think I was imagining it. The lunch dates, the little baked treats?” He held on tighter to her hands as she tried to pull away, shaking her head. Tears fell down her cheeks but he could feel her emotions sparking in their bond—her guilt, yes, and her frustration, but also her fondness for him. “That time we went to Prospect Park and I bored you to death with all that stuff about the Grand Army Plaza? And then you fed your popcorn to the squirrels—and God, the way you laughed, the way you smiled. It was so precious.”
“But Steve—” He could feel the pain she felt as he overwhelmed her with sweet words. He could feel her warring with herself to give into the bond she never wanted. It was exactly where he wanted her.
“And that time you showed me all of your favorite places around Brooklyn, and I told you about how everything had changed since my time. You were so excited about it all, and then you got real sad, nostalgic. I knew then that you were perfect for me.” He lowered his voice, remembering the day fondly. “And that day I came for lunch and you were crying, and you told me about your father’s death, and I held you as you cried. Sweetheart, I want to be able to do that for you any time you need it—"
She wrenched her hands away, burying her face in her palms, shoulders shaking. “No, Steve—”
“I know you feel something for me,” he insisted. “I can feel it. I’ve always been able to feel it. And I’ve always felt this way about you, too. I was going to ask you on a date after we were finished with this place, even though I knew you probably wouldn’t say yes because you’ve got Tony’s new project to plan…” He trailed off with a well-rehearsed sigh. “But a man can hope, can’t he?”
“You don’t get it, Steve,” she choked out between sobs. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Sure, I liked you, I liked spending time with you. But I just wanted to take it slow with you. And now…”
Steve moved forward and gathered her face in his hands, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. “Honey, I know. I know. And I didn’t plan for this, either—but we’re in this situation now. If you want to medically break the bond, we can do that, but I’m also open to trying to make the best of it.”
Breaking a bond was possible, but the process was painful and lengthy, involving an injection of shots over the course of a few months to weaken and eventually break the hormonal bond between two people. It was contraindicated in pregnant women due to the potential for damage to the fetus, and there was no way she wouldn’t be pregnant by the end of all this. He felt certain she wouldn’t choose this route—could already feel her aversion just at the suggestion.
Even if she did choose it, he wouldn’t allow it. But he needed her to believe that he supported her no matter what.
Her panic mounted, and she met his eyes. “Steve…” she whispered. “Did you use protection?”
“No, honey, I didn’t. I thought you’d be on birth control.”
Another tear fell and her face crumpled. “I’m not… I’m not on birth control… I don’t like what it does to my body—that’s why I’m not on suppressants, either, Steve.”
Of course, that was another thing he loved about her—that she refused to put any of those modern-day poisons into her body. “I’m sorry, darling, I didn’t know that.”
False hope lit her face up. “Maybe I could get a Plan B pill—”
“Honey, it’s already been three days. And we’re going to be stuck here for another week at least before the weather clears up.”
“The—the weather—it’s still snowing?”
Steve gestured to the window, which was whited out with the snow falling heavily outside. “It’s barely stopped.” Her hope dimmed again, and he could feel her panic rising within the bond. Her breathing turned heavy and soon she was hyperventilating, letting out anxious sobs and moans. Steve took a hold of her again, forcing her head up. “Look at me,” he demanded, repeating her name and the order until she obeyed. “Breathe with me, darling. In and out, okay?” He coached her through miming his breaths until she was following along with him. “Good girl, you’re doing so good,” he praised her. “Just like that, keep breathing like that.”
Once she had calmed down, he drew her in against his chest, stroking down her hair and back to relax her.
“Sorry…” she mumbled weakly. Too weak to fight him off, too weak to question him anymore. Exactly where he wanted her. 
“It’s okay, sweetie. I know this is all overwhelming. I know it’s a lot. Just know that I’m here for you. I’m gonna take care of you, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“Let’s just take it one day at a time. The roads should be clear enough by the end of the week that we can head back to the city. We’ll stay here until then, and once we’re back in the city—then we can make the decisions. How about that?”
His meek girl, his feeble girl, although finding herself in an unwanted situation, was not going to fight him on it. She nodded against his chest, bending to his will so beautifully, his sweet, submissive girl.
Steve ran a bath for her and took his time washing her hair, conditioning it, and running a soft washcloth over every inch of her body. He soothed her until she was boneless against his chest, purring and shivering every time he went over any particularly sensitive area—her sides, her pelvis, the insides of her thighs. Once every perfect inch of her body was clean, he got her out of the tub and dried her off with thorough swipes of the towel against her skin, handling her with firm hands that had her nipples hardening and her scent peaking with arousal.
“S-Steve,” she whispered as he sat her atop the bathroom counter. Her small hands clutched at his shoulders as he dried himself off. “Steve, I think my heat is spiking again.”
“I know, darling, I’ve got you,” he assured her, wrapping the towel around his hips. She pawed at his chest, hands scrambling down his waist until he caught her wrists, long fingers encompassing her forearms completely. “Relax, honey,” he cooed, “Be patient. Don’t need you wearing yourself out again so soon, do we?”
“But Steve—”
He silenced her with a few tender kisses to her fingers, her knuckles, her palms. “Shh, baby. Let your Alpha take care of you—Alpha knows best, right?” At his words, his reminder of his ownership of her, he could feel the conflict within her. Her initial rejection of their bond followed by her urge to give into it. To give into him.
She whimpered at the feeling of that harsh, jarring tug on their bond. He felt it just as much as she did, the discord within their souls, and rather than let her dwell on it, he distracted her.
He ran his hands over her sides and tutted. “Your skin is a little dry, Omega. Can’t have that, can we?” Although she didn’t respond, she didn’t refuse him when he pulled out a bottle of lotion from the cabinet. “I’ll get you all fixed up, sweetheart.”
Steve started by massaging the lotion into her right hand, up her arm, and then doing the other arm before working on her shoulders with firm strokes of his fingers. He did her back next, stepping close between her legs and giving her sweet kisses as he blindly smoothed the cream into her shoulder blades, down her spine, into the divots of her sacrum. By the time he started working on her sides, she was trembling in his arms, hands clenched into fists against his shoulders as she tried to avoid pulling him against her or grinding her cunt against his pelvis.
“You’re doing so good,” he cooed, rubbing more lotion onto her neck and clavicles, before his hands wandered down to her breasts. Her eyes fluttered closed as he cupped them in his hands and massaged the lotion in. “Such a good girl for me.” She shuddered at the feeling of his calloused thumbs rubbing across her nipples, and then he continued down to her abdomen, spending a little extra time there admiring the softness, the life that had to be already growing inside. Then her hips, and her thighs, all the way down her legs to her feet, where she giggled and kicked reflexively when he dug his thumb in too hard.
“Steve,” she moaned, legs jolting from her arousal as he kneeled before her, teasing her endlessly. “Please, please, please—”
He grinned against her skin as he kissed up her shin, nipping at her kneecap, before spreading her thighs with his large hands. “Please, what, my sweet Omega? Tell me what you need.”
“Need you,” she gasped as his hot tongue lapped against the insides of her thighs, tasting her slick that had rubbed off halfway down her leg already from her squirming and writhing on the vanity. “Need you, need you so bad—”
“I know it, baby.” He methodically sucked the wetness off until his facial hair brushed against her outer labia. She cried out at that, hands fisted in his hair, nails scratching against his scalp.
“Please, Alpha—I can’t take it!”
He chuckled, lips pressed right against the juncture between her cunt and her thigh, and the deep vibrations of his voice so close to her core made her pulse with need. His palms ran up the length of her legs before stopping right at the apex of her thighs, and he used his thumbs to spread the lips of her cunt apart, having to dig in with some force to prevent them from slipping out of his grip with how wet she was.
“Fuck,” he cursed, looking at her exposed pussy glistening for him, all for him, flushed red from how much he had fucked it in the last few days. “Perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
With that, he wasted no time in burying his nose into her cunt, wanting to scent her deeply before he tasted her. He could still smell himself within her, and he rumbled with satisfaction that he would remain a part of her for so long, his come marking his territory, marking her as his.
The flat of his tongue trailed heavy up her slit, making the Omega keen, clench her thighs around his head until Steve gripped her knees and wrenched her thighs apart. He chuckled as her muscles trembled against his grasp, and the sound vibrated through her cunt and made her jolt in his arms.
Before moving forwards, he drew his head back to admire how swollen it was, flushed and engorged, sensitive to the touch as he ghosted his lips over it. He blew a line of air against her and she cried out, body shaking still. Then he wrapped his lips around it, suckling gently at first before swirling his tongue around, giving her a little nibble when she writhed against him.
Her reactions to him made his cock ache, the way she trembled, grinded her hips against his face. Her whimpers and cries and the way she said his name, breathless, whiny, desperate. “Steve, Steve,” she chanted, hips jumping with the rhythm of his tongue. “Steve, Alpha, please—” When he slipped two fingers inside of her, she went wild, crying, begging for his cock, his knot. “Need it, Alpha, please, please, please—”
It didn’t take much longer for her to come, what with how sensitive she was. He coaxed her slick out of her sweet cunt with his fingers buried deep inside of her, running his tongue around her entrance, around his fingers, licking up the fluids leaking from her. He was drunk off the taste of her, the taste of himself inside of her, the combination of them heady on his tongue like delicious mead, sweet and earthy, like tasting from Mother Nature herself.
She collapsed back against the vanity, her back against the cool mirror, panting and jolting with aftershocks as Steve continued to clean her up. Then he slowly kissed back up her body, placing sticky kisses against her skin until he reached her lips.
Her mouth opened for him on instinct, letting him lick into her mouth and share the taste of them until her mouth was coated in the taste of herself. After her whimpers started ramping up again, he pulled her against him, allowing her to grind her pussy on his abdomen while he caressed her body, plucked at her nipples, brushed his fingers across her mating gland.
“Alpha,” she gasped, pulling away finally. Her juices were all over his stomach and she was dripping onto his cock, impatient as he denied her. “Steve, Alpha, please, the nest, the nest, please fuck me there.”
“Aw, baby,” he cooed, cupping her cheeks and gazing at her reverently. “Of course, my love. Anything for you.”
With that, he scooped her up and carried her back to the bedroom, all the while praising the nest she built. “So soft and cozy, honey, isn’t it? You built it just for us, built the perfect nest for us. Such a good girl, such a good Omega, aren’t you? Perfect for me…”
He trailed off with his mouth on her breast, suckling her nipple after laying her down on the mattress. He was so wrapped up in her softness that he didn’t notice her lining her hips up to his or reaching for his cock until she was lifting her hips and fucking herself onto his cock.
“Impatient today, aren’t you, honey?” He chuckled at her responding whine, but he stopped torturing her, impaling her completely on his cock until he was buried deep within her. She felt like home, she felt perfect, comfortable and natural and warm. She was home for him.
Steve made love to her, whispering sweet things against her lips between sweet kisses, holding her safe in his arms while he moved within her, chasing her pleasure and his own. He worked his cock inside of her, so, so deep, right up against her womb, and the thought made him shudder.
“So good for me, so good to me,” he whispered over and over, laying kisses on her lips and then her cheeks once her mouth dropped open from the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her. He could feel it on the other end of their bond, pulsating with life and joy and comfort, every single bad thought drained from her mind because of him. He was the only thing she could think of, the only thing in her life, the only one.
And she was his only one. The only thing he loved, the only thing he cared about. Her, and the life that would grow within her.
“My sweet girl,” he rasped, voice catching in his throat. The overwhelming love he felt for her poured out. “My sweet Omega, my love,” he breathed into her neck, up against her mating gland, and she shivered, feeling their bond thrum like different strings of a harp being pulled all at once, a perfect harmony resounding and vibrating within them, within their souls. “I love you,” he whispered, kissing her bond mark. “I love you so much, I’ll always love you—”
She came around him then, sobbing against him, clutching at his shoulders and back with more strength than he would have expected from her, but his mind was blank at the feeling of her cunt fluttering, massaging his cock as his knot grew.
He was so, so close—just a little bit more—just a little. “Look at me,” he gasped, lifting his head to observe her prolonged orgasm. “Open your eyes, look at me, baby—” Once he took a hold of her jaw, she obeyed him, locking eyes with him as she writhed in pleasure beneath him. “Good girl,” he praised her in a low grunt, watching her eyebrows furrow in pleasure just from that. “You’re my good girl, my good Omega—I’m—"
He came inside of her with a groan and his knot locked them together. He remained leaning over her, careful not to put too much weight on her, and kept his eyes on hers. Her gaze never faltered, so full of emotion, and he preened under her watch, proud that he could satisfy his Omega so thoroughly. His happiness leaked into their bond, enough to sate both of them, and he soaked in the feeling of their bliss, their joined souls, his Omega happy. Happy because of him.
He couldn’t wait to fall asleep with her every night in this house, in their nest, with his knot buried inside of her. Couldn’t wait to have her sated and sleepy all the time, barefoot, pregnant, a perfect bundle of joy in her arms, mind blank and undisturbed from the gratification of fulfilling her Omega duties. She would never have to worry ever again.
Steve would take care of her. He would never let her go.
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muwur · a year ago
um!! i want to request a comfort hc/drabble(?) anything !! just 👉👈 can i get hinata n/or tsuki comforting and standing up for their s/o (or friend!) who is non-binary ??
standing up for a non-binary s/o
♡ scenarios ♡ for hinata and tsukishima
gn reader
turned out longer than i intended tHIS IS MY PROBLEM N Y I UPDATE SO SLOW FORGIVE ME FOEFHEFOEFRG but anyway,,,, 2.3k words
a/n: i use primarily they/them as reader’s preferred pronouns in these scenarios, but i wanted to acknowledge that ik some non-binary ppl use other pronouns,  they/he, they/she, or even all pronouns, etc :) reminder to pls be respectful to what people want and use their preferred pronouns!  and pls lmk if i ever offend you bc i don’t want to upset anyone <3
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Just a week ago, you had finally mustered the courage to come out as non-binary to your boyfriend, Hinata. You recalled the rising panic you felt when you were met with silence and the slight widening of his chocolate eyes. However, his initial surprise was quickly replaced with a softness gracing his features. When he gently stroked your cheek and reassured you that nothing would change how he feels about you, you felt your heart melt with relief. You had nothing worry about, after all.
Unfortunately, not everyone could be as accepting as Hinata.
Picking at an array of noodles with a fork, you fixed your sights on the dinner plate before you, trying to ignore a certain gaze threatening to sear your skin. Next to you, Hinata grimaced. Munching on his stir fry and trying to be respectful in front of your family were the only things keeping him from wiping that leer off your aunt’s face. She was blatant in expressing her disapproval, the wrinkles in her face contorting with disgust whenever she so much as looked your way.
After your heart-to-heart with Hinata the other week, you were inspired to come out to your family as well. The news circulated, and though you weren’t expecting everyone to exactly be on board, the reality of disapproval hurt more than you imagined. It was great timing that today happened to be your cousin’s birthday, and you were forced to have dinner with one of your least favorite family members. Luckily, you were allowed to invite Hinata. You couldn’t fathom how your soon-to-be 5-year-old cousin was so kind and polite despite being reared by such a tyrannous mother.  Your earliest memory of your aunt was when she snatched your favorite toy from your toddler hands. You cried as she yelled at both you and your parents for letting you play with such a “gender-inappropriate” toy.
You knew she wouldn’t let you escape tonight without any offhand comments or dirty looks.
A throat cleared. You tensed in your seat. “Y/n? Dear, could you pass me the salt?”
You dared a glance up at the familiar voice. Your eyes locked with your aunt’s menacing ones briefly before you quietly obliged to her request.
“Thank you,” she said dully, taking the shaker. Sprinkling her meal, she continued to speak with nonchalance. “So, I heard you go by ‘they’ now? What’s wrong with he/she, hm? I mean, that is what you are, and that’s the only thing you should go by.”
Silence. Your parents looked at one another in discomfort, unsure how to respond. Your cousin looked back and forth between you and and your aunt curiously, unaware what was happening. A few more seconds passed by. With a shaky breath, you could only stutter out a timid “I-I--” before your mother cautiously piped up. “Aunt *name*, please, it’s your child’s birthday, let’s save this conversation for another ti--”
A scoff interrupted her. “Easy for you to say. You’ve always been so soft on y/n. Neither of you,” she glared accusingly at your parents, “raised her/him right. Now, look what’s happened. She/he’s gone delusional. How could any of you be okay with this and carry on like normal?”
You could feel yourself holding back tears. You wanted to say something against her, to show her you weren’t afraid of her and didn’t care what she thought. To prove that she didn’t know anything about you. That she had no right to be talking to you like this.
Yet you remained frozen in your seat, unable to speak. Inside, your mind went blank, leaving you defenseless against her hateful tirade.
“If she/he were my daughter/son, I’d set things straight immediately. No more outside communication. Who knows what nonsense they’ve been feeding your child? She/he needs to see a specialist to undo whatever brainwashing has occurred and--”
Hinata stood in front of his seat, which had slid noisily across the floor when he pushed it back. He was silent, his eyes pointed downward and his two palms pressed on the table. All eyes looked at him with shock, if not a tinge of curiosity.
“Stop saying those things as if you knew one thing about y/n and what they’ve had to go through,” he said in a low voice, teeth clenched.
A challenging arch of the brow replaced your aunt’s initial surprise. “Oh, please. What do you know? You’re just a naive kid like y/n. You don’t understand. You know nothing about the real world and you kids go about life as if you can just do anything. You’re selfish.”
“You’re being selfish for refusing to understand a point of view that you’re not used to. How could you live with yourself knowing that you’re making someone you should care about miserable for the rest of their lives? You have no right to speak as though you know y/n. All you care about is your opinion, regardless of whether or not it’s right, and how you look to other people. What’s wrong with letting y/n make their own decisions? Why invalidate them before even giving them the chance to explain and help you understand? You should think about how you’re acting before trying to teach someone else how they should live.”
The air cracked with silent tension. It was too much. Quickly, you got up and dashed to the front door, unlocking it and stepping outside to breathe in the cool evening air. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you stumbled off the front porch, increasing the distance between yourself and that dinner table.
Your body jolted with shock when you heard a familiar voice out and felt a pair of arms wrap from behind your frame. Hinata was breathing heavily, his rushed voice laced with worry. “I’m sorry for making a scene in front of your family, y/n, but I couldn’t just sit around and let her say whatever she wanted. You don’t deserve that treatment. I don’t regret anything I told her. And if she’s still bothering you, or anyone else for that matter, you bet I’m gonna be there to stick up for you, no matter what.”
Despite the tears that pricked at your eyes, a small smile formed on your lips. Ditching your family dinner, you spent the rest of the evening together seated in a booth at a nearby fast food restaurant, munching on goodies and sharing lighthearted jokes. That night, you were reminded that it didn’t matter what someone like your aunt thought. Those who did matter were the ones who accepted and cared for you--the real you. In the midst of darkness, you found yourself a radiant being who never failed to brighten your day. You didn’t know what you did to deserve Hinata, but you knew he would be by your side through it all. For that, you were grateful.
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After a rough week of nonstop work, food delivery, and 1AM espressos, you were relieved Saturday had finally come. Tsukishima, who had come by your home a few times that week to check up on you(r sanity) and drop off some surprise dinners, nagged you to take better care of yourself and offered to treat you to lunch that weekend (after you promised to get a lot of rest when you were finished). When you beat your deadlines early Friday evening, you nearly cried tears of joy and immediately passed out on your bed to catch up on lost sleep.
Saturday reminded you of the beauty of the outside world, much needed after your long week of confinement. Both sun and clouds gathered in the pale blue sky overhead. Warm sunshine freckled your skin while a gentle breeze cooled your temple. Hand in hand, you walked down the block with Tsukishima towards the farmer’s market. Already you could hear the nearby murmurs of a crowd and smell the savory aroma of freshly cooked food. Your stomach grumbled with enthusiasm as you thought about all the delicious choices waiting to be ordered.
Numerous vendors lined up down the street. Smoke arose from hot grills, carrying the scent of various spices through the air. Workers called out to passing customers, offering them samples of their homemade nut butters or showing off their natural, handmade soaps. With a fascinated glint in your eye, you observed each stand you passed by. From Hawaiian poke, grilled paninis, and tacos, to Thai stir fry, barbecue, and shawarma, the options seemed endless. As much as you loved the variety, it made making a decision even more difficult.
“Tsukkiiii,” you said pleadingly, “I don’t know what I want.”
He sighed. “Well, what’s your appetite in the mood for?”
“No clue, that’s why I’m asking.”
When he shot you an annoyed look, you held your hands up. “Hey, I’ve been using my brain way too much this week. I’m tired of thinking. I’m pretty down for anything, to be honest.”
With a shrug, he suggested trying the ramen from a stand several feet away from you both. You happily agreed and dragged the both of you to stand in line. Looking down at your shirt, you pulled on it slightly and adjusted the pin attached close to your collar. It depicted a cartoon cat with a text bubble that said “they/them” to indicate your preferred pronouns (though, in the note above, ik you may have a different combination of preferred pronouns. feel free to just sub in whatever those are into the pin ^-^ ). You recalled how you heart rushed with excitement when you found it in your mailbox that morning.
“You know, you didn’t have to get this for me,” you told your blonde companion as you admired your gift. Hands in his pockets, he gave you another shrug. “I just thought it suited you. Plus, strangers won’t misgender you, anymore.”
“That’s really thoughtful of you, Kei... Thank you, again, really.”
His lips formed into a thin line and he looked off to the side. He muttered a low, “Don’t mention it.” before stepping forward to follow the shortening line. A huff of amusement escaped you in response. You were also taking a step forward when you felt a shove on your left side. Tsukishima caught you mid-stumble, helping you regain your balance and stand upright again. Narrowing his eyes, he looked over at the man who bumped into you. The stranger caught himself from stumbling as well, then scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment.
“Ah, I’m sorry about that young man/woman! I wasn’t looking clearly,” he apologized.
You shook your head in response, offering him a smile. “No worries. I’m glad we’re both okay.”
He was about to laugh in agreement when he noticed the pin attached to your top. His smile vanished and he looked at you quizzically. “Say, what’s that pin you got there?”
“Oh,” you pointed at it. “This? These are my gender pronouns. I go by ‘them/them,’” you announced proudly.
Raising an eyebrow, he asked, “What does that even mean? ‘They/them’ is plural, so doesn’t it make more sense to just go by he/she?” He paused for a few seconds of thought. Then, it clicked. “Is this that ‘gender identity’ bullshit I’ve been hearing about lately?”
Your enthusiasm quickly dissipated. ‘Oh gosh, please don’t tell me that this person’s--’
“Now missy/boy, I don’t know what’s gotten into all your heads, thinking you can just pick and choose whatever or whoever you want to be. What you were born with is who you are. Why can’t people accept that and have to complicate things? It’s biology. I swear, people are just doing this for attention or a trend or whatever--”
“Ahem,” Tsukishima cleared his throat, interrupting the man’s rant. He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder and drew you close against himself. “Perhaps the topic is too complex for your tiny mind to comprehend,” he challenged, his voice dripping with collected hostility. “You should stop going on about things you don’t understand; it makes you look even more ignorant. Now, please, stop bothering my partner before you piss me off more.”
The stranger glared up at Tsukishima, then back at you. Deciding it wasn’t worth a fight, the man scoffed and shoved past your boyfriend;s shoulder, then disappeared into the crowd. Behind you, a kid’s wide eyes looked at Tsukishima with awe. “Wow, that was really cool! You really showed him!”
“Tch, it was nothing,” he responded bashfully. “Can’t let assholes get away with whatever they want.”
15 minutes later and you were both settled in a shady area on a grassy field with ramen bowls in your lap. Your eyes were glued to the ground. Tsukishima waved a hand in front of your face with concern.
“Earth to y/n? You good? You’ve been quiet since we encountered that guy earlier.”
You risked looking up into his eyes, unable to control the stream of tears running down your eyes. Surprised, the blonde placed his hands on the sides of your face and started to wipe your tears off with his thumbs. “I-I’m just, r-really grateful that you,” you choked between sobs, “were here with m-me, today. I d-don’t know what I would’ve done if I was alone.”
You let him wrap his arms around you as you buried your face in his shoulder. He nestled his cheek onto the top of your head and ran a gentle hand up and down your spine. “It’s okay,” he murmured softly. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, anymore. I promise.”
Several minutes later, you pulled away, sniffling and rubbing the remaining tears from your eyes with your forearm. He gave your head a small pat.
“Someone sounds hungry.” You rolled your eyes and swatted his hand off your head.
2 minutes into eating, and you asked (suggestively), “Can we eat from the same bowl and see if we end up connecting noodles?”
“N-No, that’s dumb.” 
“Oh, c’monnnnn~ You know you want to, you’re blushing.”
“I’m not!”
a/n: sry about the weird stomach growl effect LMAO
if you coudlnt tell i was hungry writing this n i miss going out to eat foueherhggu
i hope u enjoyed <3 pls lmk if u would like any changes anon or smth different (liks regular hc’s, etc). have a lovely day n i hope you feel better <3 ill fite anyone who makes u feel bad >:(
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asahis-left-kneepad · 9 months ago
"Ughhhhh, can this week just be over alreadyyyy?" You groaned, laying your head onto the desk. Periods suck I think we can all agree to that. And this week wasn't getting any better. It seemed like each day would pass and the cramps would grow more and more painful. "God kill me.." grumbled, curling your hand into a fist and hitting it on the desk. Right now you just wanted to go home, huddle yourself up in a blanket fort, eat ice cream, and— "(Y/n), your gonna clean the floor!" A classmate announced, placing the cleaning schedule on your desk. You groggily picked your head up, glaring at the price of paper. "Can I not do it today?" You sloshed your head back, desperately trying to get out of the situation. It was obvious that your attempts would not prevail, "Do you have a medical excuse?" Your classmate questioned in a clearly irritated tone. "No, not really..." you sighed. They placed the cleaning supplies by your desk, "Then start mopping. We all have to clean, you're not gonna get special the treatment.. If you start now, you'll get to leave earlier." They advised, walking away. You groaned in annoyance and stood up from your seat, feeling your cramps worsen. The rest of the class proceeded to push the desks out of the way. You slumped over to pick up the mop, dipping it in the little tub of water. You moved in a circular motion, fixating on one spot in the room. As time passed, students began to finish up their tasks and leave. Yet you were still here, mopping away at the same spot. You noticed more and more students leaving until finally it was just you, alone. You emptied the tub and wrung out the mop brush. You did a half-assed job, but was in too much discomfort to care. After putting the equipment back into the storage closet, you grabbed your school bag. You exited the classroom only to find out that the school was now empty, not one student in sight. At this point you were already late for practice so you were thinking about skipping it for the day. Whilst roaming the barren hallways, you were unaware of the fact that your boyfriend, Asahi, was looking for you. He turned corner after corner until he spotted you walking near a door that lead outside. He rushed to catch up to you, "(Y/n)!" He called out, reaching out to tap your shoulder. You grumbled and turned around, annoyed. "Oh my god.." you groaned, not wanting to deal with anyone right now. You quickly turned around, "What the hell do you want?!" You spat. After realizing that it was him, your expression immediately softened. "O-oh! Asahi.. sorry, I didn't know it was you.." you apologized. "What are you doing here?" You asked, noticing that he should be at practice by now. "I was just about to ask you the same thing. You never showed up so I went to check on you." He explained. "Actually I—!" You suddenly slouched over, clutching your stomach. "Huh? (Y/n), are you okay?" He rushed over to help you stand. You groaned, "I-I'm okay, don't worry about it.." you leaned against the wall, catching your breath. "I'm gonna go ahead and skip practice today.." you mumbled, continuing to walk forward. "But what's wrong? Are you hurt?" He asked innocently, observing your current condition. You gave him an awkward look, "Something like that, yea.. look it's a personal thing, you wouldn't understand.." You stepped outside and walked with him up to the school gate. You weren't trying to make things feel awkward and cold but you really just wanted to go home right now. You both stood at the gate in an awkward silence until you turned to Asahi and pulled him in for a hug. He embraced you back, "Are you sure that you'll be okay?" He rubbed your back. You let out a relaxed sigh and hugged him tighter. "Yeah I'm just..." you paused. You knew that if you just told him without and explanation he'd be confused, but you decided to anyway. "I'm on my period, it's no big deal." You confessed, pulling away from the hug. Surprisingly he didn't say anything, but you could see that he was visibly puzzled.
You were too exhausted from the school day to even bother about giving an explanation, so you just uttered a soft a "see ya" and sluggishly left. He stood and waved to you until you were no longer in his sight. As soon as you were gone his calm expression turned to panic. "What's a period? Is it a code for saying that she hates me? No it can't be that.. Is it some kind of illness? Is she gonna die?!" He worriedly thought to himself, walking back to practice. Once he walked up to the gym, where the others have been anxiously waiting for his return, He was met with the large metal door slamming open and bombarded with questions, "Why did you take so long? Where have you been? And where is (y/n)?" He backed up until he felt a wall behind him, "S-she's not coming. She doesn't feel well.." He answered. Everyone let out a frustrated groan, with now only being able to practice for half of the usual time they were allowed. "Next time just tell her to text you or something." Daichi sighed. Practice resumed as usual and everyone had seemed fine except for Asahi. The others had noticed his focus was lacking, and that he seemed to have something else running through his mind. "Hey Asahi. what's going on, you missed all of those hits?" Noya poked at his side. "I don't know, I guess I'm just worried about (y/n).." He sighed. Noya gave him a confused stare, awaiting an explanation. "She said something about being on her period... You know what that is?" He placed his hand on his chin. "Nope, but it sounds bad. Just ask her or look it up." Noya shrugged and placed his hands behind his head walking away. That didn't make Asahi feel better. After practice He rushed home to do some of his own research about this so-called "period" and how to make it better. After about 20 minutes or so, he seemed to have a reasonable understanding on what the female menstruation cycle was. But that wasn't enough, judging by your composure earlier, he wanted to make sure that you were comfortable and relieved of any pain for the most part. He made a list of things to get you so that he could make your week somewhat bearable. Meanwhile you were in your home, curled up in a blanket, a tub of ice cream in once hand, and a giant spoon in the other. You were currently binging some stupid, bullshit reality show because there was nothing else on. It was getting pretty late but luckily you've been blessed with the gift of living on your own, so you didn't have a curfew. Although you were contemplating on whether or not you would go to school the next day. As you went to scoop another large portion of ice cream, you realized that the tub was now entirely empty. You groaned and got up from the bed, exiting your room and wandering into your kitchen. You threw the tub away and tossed the spoon into the sink then looked at the clock. It read 11:34 pm. Suddenly you grabbed onto the counter, feeling another wave of pain wash over you. You limped back to you room to search for any kind of pain relievers. Unfortunately to which you found no luck. You frustratedly flopped back into your bed and crawled underneath the large blanket. You thought sleeping off the pain would work until you realized that you were unable to actually fall asleep... So there you were, eyes wide open, staring off into the dark void. You realized that you wanted Asahi to be right here next to you, to hold you in his arms, to help you ease this pain. You grabbed a pillow and cuddled against it, "Would he be up by now..?" You doubtfully whispered to yourself, moving onto your side and staring at your phone on the nightstand. The sound of crickets echoed throughout your house, it was kind of relaxing for you. You shut your eyes and began to drift off into a somewhat bearable sleep.
The next day you decided not to show up to school. You didn't want to hear about other people's bullshit and just focus on yourself. You told him first thing in the morning so that he wouldn't have to track you down again.
You: I'm not gonna be at school today, so don't worry about having to find me like yesterday..
Asahi bby: Oh
Asahi bby: So you're not feeling any better?
                                               You: Yeah, it sucks :(
                                                           You: I'm sorry
Asahi bby: It's okay, I understand
Asahi bby: Can I come over after school?
It took you bu surprise for a moment. You didn't want him to worry about you but, for some reason it felt like he actually understood what was going on. He went through his day like normal except this time he decided to miss out on practice so that he wouldn't keep you waiting too long. As soon as the final bell chimed, he quickly made his way to the nearest store. He got all your favorite snacks and of course a whole tub of your favorite ice cream. He also bought a heating pad and some Ibuprofen to help relieve cramps. After buying what was needed, he headed straight to your house as quickly as possible, not waisting a second. Soon he approached your doorstep, fumbling with his pockets. He pulled out the spare key that you gave him and unlocked the front door. Once he was inside, he called out to you. "(Y/n)...?" There was no reply. He slipped his shoes off at the door and walked upstairs. "(Y/n)? You home?" He called our again, turning the corner and walking down the hallway. He noticed your bedroom door was slightly cracked open, "In here." You finally called back. He approached the door and lightly pushed it open, revealing yourself hidden in a sea of blankets. They were coiled around you, making you resemble a worm. You turned to him, arms stretched out wide, "C'mere." You demanded. He obliged and moved closer to your bed until you suddenly pulled him down onto the bed. "(Y/n)—!?" He choked out. You nuzzled against him and buried your face in his chest. He blushed and placed his hands on your back, "Looks like someone's feeling better." He laughed with a flustered expression. "Only because you're here.." You half-smiled, looking up at him. "Were you lonely without me?" You playfully pouted. His other hand rested atop your head, tenderly stroking his fingers through your hair. "Yeah, I missed you a lot.." He kisses your forehead. He glanced at the floor, noticing that he had dropped the stuff he bought when you pulled him down. "Oh I almost forgot..I got you some things.." He sat up. You followed his gaze and reached down to grab the bags. "Hmm? What'd you get..?" You questioningly looked at the bags, quickly dumping its contents on the bed. You chirped happily once seeing that he had got you a shit ton of your favorite snacks. "You got all these for me?" You asked, already beginning to open everything. He nodded and showed you a second bag. "I also got these to help with your cramps.." he rubbed the back of his neck. You tilted you head and took the bag from him. After looking at what was inside, you gazed back up at him teary eyed. "You're too good for me!" You cried, embracing him tightly. He smiled warmly and pulled the heating pad out of the bag, "Do you want to use it now..?" He glanced at you. You eagerly nodded repeatedly, "Yeahyeahyeah!" He let out a soft chuckle and sat up, taking the cord and plugging it into the outlet nearby. He turned back to you and had you lay down on your side, your back facing him. His hand rested on your waist near the hem of your shirt. He ran his hands against the small of your back, massaging you gently before taking the heating pad and sliding it under your shirt. After placing the heating pad he laid behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, enjoying his enhanced warmth. "How does it feel?" He asked, moving his hand up to your lower abdomen. "Really goooooood." You sighed. He cuddled you, gently rubbing your tummy.
The two of you laid there in a comfortable silence, enjoying each other warmth. "I could practically fall asleep to this.." you mumbled, half-conscious. Asahi rested his chin on your shoulder, "Go right ahead, I'm not going anywhere.." he cooed. You giggled to yourself, "You're staying the night..?" Your turned your head and glanced up at him. He smiled and leaned forwards to kiss you, "Of course." He held you closer and tighter, kissing along your shoulder. "Hehehe, that tickles!" You giggled, squirming just a bit. You remained in his grasp for a long while. Eating all the snacks he bought and overall just enjoying his company. Soon you both drifted into a comfortable slumber, enveloped in each other's warm and gentle embrace.
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lokidrabbles · a year ago
Stop, And Think of Me (Loki x Reader)
After an incident at work, Loki provides reader with his own comforting methods
A/N: Another quick oneshot dealing with some work related stress, Loki fluff and smut. Again, thank you all for the follows and likes on my little stories :) As always, Gender Neutral Reader!
Warnings: Implied smut, lewd imagery, but fluff n’ stuff too!
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A worker, the one Maria Hill, who still held some ambivalence towards Loki, was the one to inform him of what had happened earlier that day and why you had been dismissed.
The details of the situation were scattered. Your workplace at the facility had provided you with a sudden wave of paperwork, meetings, drills and overtime needed after another inter dimensional threat was discovered. Luckily no catastrophic worldwide panic was caused, as the Avengers meticulously took care of business. Through the midst of it all, there was some ongoing entanglement between the lower departments of the facility, with certain protocols having gone ignored and undetected by supervisors and authority figures. Whatever, or whoever had majorly fucked up, had decided to use you as a scapegoat to evade any type of consequences, throwing you in as the ‘newbie’ who had gone over everyone.
Loki admired your ability to defend yourself well with your own ability of verbal intervention, using your sharp tongue as weapon against anyone wronging you or him. You were quick witted, confident, and unafraid to speak your mind towards anyone. Whatever fool had wanted to try at you in this way wouldn’t have gotten the chance to defend themselves.
Never did he actually expect you to have utilized you own physical strength to justly give this person a broken nose.
Hill described the brawl being very brief as security was immediately called in to break you up. Luckily, no charges were pressed and Mr. Stark took the situation casually, finding it normal for seeming coworkers to punch the crap out of each other in this line of work. A good way to say no one was fired.
You were promptly sent home to ‘think about your actions’, but most importantly to cool off as you had become quite shaken up. Normally a situation like this wouldn’t have warranted his attention as it seemed things worked out on their own. You were an adult, who was more than capable of taking care of themselves, and probably wanted to spend the rest of the afternoon in privacy.
Despite these thoughts, Loki knew he’d find you in your home, and a certain obligation tugged at him endlessly. After all, what type of man would he be if he didn’t?
He would soon make way to your home (entering with complete disregard), and would find you shriveled up in your bed. From your dampened hair, he figured you had taken a much needed, life altering bath. The pressure of it all must have been to much for you to bear. Loki had noted how your gaze became hollowed, barely looking up to see him enter your bedroom.
“I guess you heard about my little episode.” You said flatly.
“Indeed. I have to admit, I’m quite impressed at the damage you left behind. Remind me to never get on your bad side.” He said while sitting at the edge of your bed.
You groaned, turning around for your back to face him. “What was I thinking? I totally lost myself back there.”
Loki inched up closer to you, beginning to meticulously straighten out your wet locks of hair. “You were defending yourself, were you not? I know you to be a level headed individual most of the time. I’d take it this person really hit a nerve.”
“Yeah, they were totally out of line! Calling me out in front of our department supervisor and calling me a ‘newbie’. Dickhead.”
“Oh, how I much I would have loved to see your pretty little knuckles land on this fool’s face.” He said teasingly, while still threading his fingers through your hair.
“It was totally awesome, don’t get me wrong. But I still feel like garbage.”
“Care to elaborate?”
He felt your chest rise with a deep inhale, and slowly fall down as you released. “Because, I shouldn’t have done that. I lost control over my temper again. I mean, it’s been a while but I didn’t think it would go like this.”
He noticed how your voice became smaller. This was something more than having an altercation with a coworker. This was something much more internalized, and Loki had come to know and understand your telltale signs very closely. You’d turn away, avoiding to see him in the eyes. You’d begin to take in deep inhales to control your breath. And your voice would begin to crack as the discomforting lump in your throat began to rise.
Loki wasn’t alien to comfort. In his childhood, Frigga would be his stone and the bearer of his doubts and worries. There were still times where Loki would remind himself of her sweet aroma and soft hair, caressing him dearly with intent and love. The memories of the late queen would forever linger with him, perhaps as a lesson for whoever would capture the Asgardian’s fondness.
A sniffle broke his thought process, and soon he saw how your body wracked with an onslaught of sobs and tears.
There was instinct which rose within Loki, a mixture of fury, protection, hesitation and warranted worry. His first flashing thought was to find the person responsible for causing you this pain, and swiftly burying a sharp object into their neck, but due to ‘certain restrictions,’ this would only make things much more difficult. Instead, he would provide you with what you needed at the moment.
“(Y/N),” He began, speaking carefully. “Turn around.”
You did as you were told, and you turned around to come face to face with the dark haired prince. Giant droplets dripped downwards, falling almost beautifully at the edge of your jaw. Uncontrollable sobs made it difficult for you to breath and articulate any type of explanation to him. Loki didn’t need you to explain however, as he knew exactly the conflict going within you. Loki understood sadness and shame very well. And perhaps, these were the most human emotions to use in efforts to connect to you.
He cradled your head justly into the crook of his neck, unbothered by the wetness coming from your face and nose. His arm cradled around your shoulders, holding you tightly and secure against his chest, close enough for you to feel the heavy beating in his chest. He encouraged you to drape your legs over his lap to support your whole weight onto him, as well as leading your arm around his shoulder. Your shudders continued, and he allowed you to experience everything within his embrace. He tenderly kissed your temple, murmuring sweet nothings and words of protection until your sobs stabilized.
“I don’t like seeing you this way.” He whispered into your ear, as if it would be only confessed to you.
“I'm sorry.” You said in between trembling lips.
“Stupid human. Don’t apologize for being upset.” He snarled.
“Ugh.” You let out an unappealing groan. “I c-can’t go back like this.”
“You won’t, because you will only show your vulnerability with me. Understand?”
He meant it. It made him physically uncomfortable to see you in this state, however it also sickened him to the core at the possibility of someone else wrapping their arms around you and allowing you to pour your tears onto them. For you, to have to resort to someone unworthy to bring you contentment? Unthinkable. As far as he knew, Loki was the only one who would witness this, and the only one who would provide you with the tenderness and care you needed. 
“This individual was fortunate enough to only obtain a bloody nose from you.” He continued. “I’m sure I would be back in handcuffs and some type of cell if I was there.”
“I would have murdered them.”
You chuckled in between sniffles, and Loki could only imagine a small smile forming over your cheeks. “That’s horrible to say.” “Perhaps.”
You shifted within his embrace, just enough for your tear stained face to come close to his own. Loki felt your lips softly brush past his, and then return for a much needed kiss. He felt your small hand push the back of his head deeper into your taste, to which he eagerly reciprocated. You coaxed him to lay over you, and soon he would lean forward into you, pushing you softly onto your bed. You wrapped your arms justly around his neck as moans of contentment escaped the corners of your mouth. He returned these with his own guttural groans, taking in the sweet nectar of your mouth. He felt the heat rise in your face and his mind began to cloud with lewd details of his drippings all over your bare body. Indeed, no other individual would be able to bring this level of pleasure to you, or even begin to comprehend just exactly what your body needed. Only he was capable of such comprehension, and only his fingers, hands, lips and body were good enough to draw out the poison in you and replace with pure ecstasy and reverence.
He broke the kiss temporarily, catching his breath. He gazed at your glassy eyes, full of desire, and practically begging him to resume exploring your mouth.
“Feeling better, are we?” He asked with a satisfied smirk.
You nodded slowly, licking your lips over his remaining spit.
“Do you wish for me to continue? You know once I begin, I won’t stop.” He said, as if warning you for what was about to come.
“I know.” You responded self-assuredly. He loved it, your willingness to completely be pleased by his own doing and allowing whatever carnal desire he held back to be released onto you.
“Little human.” He began, trailing kisses from your salty cheek, and then all the way down your neck. “You will forget about all your troubles from today. I will fuck you endlessly, because you deserve a good fucking.”
“Loki, I-” You began, but he interjected immediately.
“No. Listen to me well. There will be no more hesitation with any of that. All I want to hear from you are those obscene sounds coming from your lips as I bury myself deep in you. Do you understand?”
“You’re gorgeous.” You said in a breathy manner.
Loki took you for the remainder of the day, lovingly and longingly. Your two bodies would join each other, sharing each other’s heat and sweat, providing you with the necessary distraction from your own turbulence, and providing Loki with a self-fulfilling deposition. You were his and no other man or woman could even possibly come close.
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lilbbybangtan · a year ago
It’s Always the Award Shows 3/3
The third and final part of this series is finished. Somehow it got longer. Thanks for all the love on parts 1&2. The Taegi friendship is so strong here. I’ve just been a little extra in love with Yoongi these days. 
Warning: Emeto
Summary/Prompt:  Jungkook having a horrible tummy ache while attending an award show and he can’t concentrate on anything else but his aching tummy. Everything hurts and his clothes feel too tight and he wants to go home. His hand won’t leave his tummy and one of the members notice and Jungkook wants belly rubs but they can’t do that with cameras around but the poor boy doesn’t understand it so he gets whiny. He probably tries to rub his own stomach and stuff
Part Three Focus: Three Bangtan Boys trapped in a hotel room. 2/3 sick, Yoongi is the bestest caretaker. 
Part One -  Part Two
Word Count: 4114
Jungkook is sitting up in bed when Yoongi and Taehyung re-enter the room. He’s got the white hotel trash can between his legs and he’s pinching the bridge of his nose as it drips with clear liquid. Taehyung is about to ask him if he’s okay before he pitches forward with a deep heave. Water spills from his lips loudly making contact with the plastic lining of the trash bag. Taehyung has hands on him in an instant. He’s rubbing Jungkook’s back as he continues to gag into the opening. Yoongi stays back, observing from afar. He wants to help, he does, but he doesn’t know if more hands on Jungkook would help or be an annoyance. Plus, he’s kept his own sensitive stomach intact this whole time, he’s not trying to add to Taehyung’s clear stress over the situation. He opts for the same type of help as earlier, a glass of water. He trots quietly to the bathroom to grab the glass he filled earlier. It’ll be easier than a water bottle because Jungkook can take small, controlled sips that hopefully won’t upset his stomach that refuses to give him a break. 
Jungkook’s eyes are watering and Taehyung mistakes them for tears. 
“Jungkookie, you’re okay,” he soothes once he finally stops retching. 
Jungkook tips his head back, pinching his nose once more. “Can I get a tissue, please?”
Yoongi is quick to comply, wanting to be helpful. He all but presses the tissue to Jungkook’s nose to clear the mess. 
“Thanks, hyung,” Jungkook sniffles. 
He looks horrible. His bangs are stuck to his forehead in a wet, choppy fashion. He hasn’t even missed any sleep yet but the little pockets underneath his eyes are swollen and dark. He lays his head back on the pillows, mouth open, and eyebrows drawn together. He’s exhausted but his stomach is aching. He presses a hand to it and moans. He knows he sounds whiny. He knows that he’s making his hyungs nervous because of how sick he is. He can feel how sick he is. He’s nervous about how sick he is. In all honesty, Jungkook usually loves traveling to America but he wants to be at home. The hotel is comfortable but it’s nothing like his own bed and being surrounded by his own things. 
He sniffles. He didn’t realize he’d made himself tear up. He scrunches his nose and turns on his side, finally opening his eyes. He’s got a headache that is making the one light in the room unbearable. Taehyung had left his side to switch the bag in the garbage can and Yoongi was getting ready for bed. Jungkook clutches the pillow and watches him silently. Yoongi is being so careful and quiet he must have thought Jungkook was already sleeping. 
“Yoongi-hyung,” Jungkook croaks. He cringes at how hoarse his voice is. “What did Namjoon-hyung say?”
Yoongi’s head snaps up from his suitcase. “Aish, kid. You sound like hell,” he gives a chuckle and a shake of his head. “Don’t worry about the schedule, just try to get some rest so you can feel better.”
“I know but-,”
“Shh,” Yoongi cuts him off patiently. “JK, you aren’t going to feel better if you just keep worrying. We have the whole day off tomorrow. It’s enough time for you to get better.”
“But what if it’s not?” Taehyung asks, emerging from the bathroom with a clean trash can. “The doctor said up to 72 hours.” 
The glare he receives from Yoongi is enough to make him gulp.
“72 hours?” Jungkook practically squeaks. His eyes roll into the back of his head with frustration. He doesn’t know if he can take one more hour of feeling like this. He pulls his knees up to his chest for good measure, willing his stomach to stop aching. 
Yoongi sighs heavily. “Both of you, just sleep now, please.”
So they do. Jungkook begs Taehyung to climb into bed with him for some comfort. Taehyung didn’t really need him to bed at all, he’s incredibly happy to oblige. Jungkook likes being the little spoon, especially when he’s in bad condition. Taehyung wraps his long arms around the Maknae and his breaths even out almost right away. Yoongi climbs in his own bed. 
“Wake me if you need me,” he says. 
Taehyung’s mouth gapes open. “Wake you?”
Yoongi rolls his eyes with a laugh. “Yes. I don’t want you to stress and make yourself sick with worry if he starts throwing up again. So, wake me if you need me.”
“That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said,” Taehyung smiles over at him. 
“Shut up,” Yoongi quips back, but he’s smiling too. 
Jungkook wakes with the tip of the sun in the horizon and he’s so nauseous he can’t stand it. At some point in the night Taehyung had rolled over and curled into the same fetal-like position that Jungkook was sleeping in. He’s grateful that he doesn’t have to pull himself from his arms. Attempting not to disturb his already rocky stomach he quietly rolls over to get out of bed. He brings his comforter with him. He doesn’t know how or when Taehyung got his own, but he knows he’s shivering and doesn’t want to move without it. He also doesn’t want to wake anyone up with his sickness. Yoongi is completely still, wrapped up to his neck with his blanket. Jungkook can tell he’s also curled up on his side as he usually is while sleeping. He’s so thankful when he makes it to the bathroom without either of his hyungs waking up. 
Jungkook sits on the floor of the bathroom and pulls the fabric around himself tightly. His teeth chatter, but he can feel cold sweat beneath his pajama top. He’s hot and cold at the same time. He closes his eyes and moans quietly. He’s so dizzy. He rests his back against the cool, tiled walls. He doesn’t know how long he slouches there with his stomach swirling beneath his palm. It could be minutes, it could be an hour. But when he lurches toward the toilet with a violent gag he’s almost relieved, thinking that throwing up will make him feel better. But his effort is lost on him. His stomach brings nothing but acidic bile that burns his throat on the way up. Plus, he’s being loud. He’s never had this issue with vomiting before, but this particular sickness is trying anything and everything to bring all of the contents of his stomach up through his mouth. Yoongi enters when he heaves for the third time. Jungkook catches an image of him, hair sticking up in all places and eyes half open but face etched with concern. 
“Yah! JK,” he sighs and crouches down next to him. “I was having a dream about being on stage. It was a good one-aish!” Yoongi hollers when Jungkook heaves loudly over him. He pats his back but he can’t help but pout. He’s never seen someone so sick before. This isn’t good. “Jungkook-ah, you’ve got to breath, okay? You’re at the point of emptiness for sure.”
Jungkook clenches his teeth instead, biting back a gag. It works for a moment. He gags again but presses his fist to his hand to stifle it. Finally, his stomach begins to calm. Somehow, it hurts more than before, but at least the nausea is gone for now. Overcome with exhaustion, he collapses backward into Yoongi. He catches him easily, but thank god there was a wall directly behind them. He leans into  it and allows Jungkook to lean into him. 
“JK, we gotta get something into you. It can be water, it can be an electrolyte drink, it can be food, but you need something in your stomach. You’re going to damage those million dollar chords at this rate.”
Jungkook wants to laugh at Yoongi’s joke, but he’s so tired. He closes his eyes instead. The thought of putting anything into his stomach right now doesn’t seem achievable. He makes a noise of discomfort at his aching stomach. 
“What can I do, Jungkook?” Yoongi asks. It’s  hurting him to see Jungkook so rundown. 
Jungkook just shifts his body so that his face is buried in the crook of Yoongi’s neck. His hyung is so warm and he’s so cold. Yoongi gladly let’s him stay there for a little while. 
The two are sitting on the floor of the bathroom, both nodding off when Yoongi is awoken to the sound of vomiting. At first he thinks it’s Jungkook but when he startles awake, Jungkook is still pressed into his chest, fast asleep. Yoongi takes a deep breath, it must have been an anxious dream. But then he hears a deep heave again, coming from outside of the bathroom. He knocks his head into the back of the wall. “Fuck,” he whispers underneath his breath. He’s come to the realization. Taehyung is throwing up, which means they’re both sick. He’s going to absolutely lose his shit. 
Taehyung is a loud vomiter. He knows this about himself and he feels bad every time he gets sick because it makes people uncomfortable with just how loud he throws up. But he can’t help it, his body just let’s go. He’d started feeling sick in the middle of the night. He’d been wrapped around Jungkook but awoke sweltering. He thought it was because Jungkook’s fever had come back, but all too soon he realized he was the one with the fever once his stomach began swirling. He pulled away from Jungkook, turning and curling himself into a ball. It had always been his only proven solution to prolonging the vomiting process. He already knew he was going to get sick, there was no doubt about it. But, he was going to do everything in his power to not throw up in the middle of the night and wake up a sleeping Yoongi and an already very sick Jungkook. 
He was able to coax himself back to sleep right away by putting some low instrumental music on. Focusing on the light vibration of the music helped steer his mind’s attention away from the nausea that was threatening him. 
He woke up in the room alone. He didn’t know where Yoongi or Jungkook were and he didn’t have time to find out because he sat up with a hiccup and scrambled for the trash can he’d placed on the floor for Jungkook. He had eaten too much for dinner. Between the snacks at the award show and the noodles Yoongi had made for them last night, his stomach was unsettled and wanted everything out. 
It started with a deep, toe curling heave. Taehyung had always believed gravity worked in his favor so he propped himself up on his knees, arms crossed over the top of the trash can, and stuck his face into the bag. His stomach clenched so hard he arched his back. A hand appears on his forehead and anothering  in the middle of his hot back. Yoongi-hyung. He’s so grateful to have a member with him. He jerks even further into the bin with a final heave. He’s panting when he’s done. He looks up at Yoongi who has gone even more pale than normal. He gives a deep swallow before he speaks. 
“You okay?” Yoongi asks. 
Taehyung just collapses onto the bed. 
Yoongi is drawing light shapes on the back of Taehyung who is wrapped around Jungkook while he texts the group chat of members. He announces that both Taehyung and Jungkook are now sick. He’s thankful he doesn't have to see Namjoon’s face as he breaks the news. 
RapMon: -_-
[sweating emoji]
Bighit JM: :(((
J Hope: oh no 
Bighit Jin: cancel the schedule?
RapMon: NO
 There’s knocking on the door within seconds. 
Taehyung moans.  “Please don’t get up, hyung. I can’t move, I feel so bad, please. I don’t want to throw up again.”
Yoongi sighs. He doesn’t want to get up. In all honesty, he’s exhausted himself after cleaning out the trash can, getting Jungkook into bed, just for him to have to get out and throw up absolutely nothing again. By the time they made it back Taehyung was rocking side to side in bed from pain. The only thing that seemed to calm them both was physical touch and being together. Once Jungkook laid down and Taehyung deposited his head on his chest, the youngest member was out, and Taehyung was at least calm enough to lay still. 
“I think Namjoon has the key, and if he doesn’t he can get one from Sejin,” Yoongi states. He picks up the phone and calls Namjoon. He hears the phone ring from outside the door. 
“Open the door,” Namjoon says. His tone isn’t hiding his annoyance at all. 
“I can’t, I’m a little busy. Get a key from security or Sejin.”
Namjoon sighs and hangs up without saying anything else. Yoongi promises not to hold it against him. 
Namjoon, clad in a mask to hopefully protect himself from the sickness, comes in hot. He’s ready to freak out at the thought of another member getting sick before promotion. He stops short in the middle of the room at the state he sees in the bed. Even though there are two beds in the room, all three members are piled together. Yoongi looks like he needed to fall asleep hours ago. It’s only eight in the morning, how long have they been awake? He’s sleeping, but Namjoon can tell how uncomfortable Jungkook is, even in sleep. Taehyung is wrapped around him with a face set in pout. His knitted eyebrows allude to pain. Namjoon just sits heavily on the couch and puts his head in his hands. They have to cancel the schedule for at least tomorrow. 
Namjoon left to go deal with the business side of things like canceling their radio interview tomorrow, rescheduling the shooting of the next Run! episode, and notifying all of the members that the trios hotel room if not before, now was strictly off limits to everyone. 
“Taehyung-ah,” Yoongi shakes him lightly when he wakes up from his own nap. He’d been so exhausted from the early morning’s events that he couldn’t help but drift off to sleep. But he awoke only thirty minutes after, unable to stand the heat. Taehyung was burning up and his body was pressed against Yoongi and Jungkook. Yoongi was worried he was going to give Jungkook the fever back that he’d thankfully dropped in the nighttime. 
“Taehyung,” Yoongi coaxed again. 
Taehyung let out a slow and low moan full of discomfort. He woke up with a huff. “Hmm?” his deep morning voice called out.
“Your fever, it feels high. I need you to get off of Jungkook, you’re going to make him too hot.”
Taehyung shifts  slowly, moving each limb individually until he is flat on his back. He presses his wide palm to his stomach and lets out another small huff. He is so incredibly nauseous. He can feel the bubbles in his stomach moving up, up, into his esophagus. He lets out a belch that tastes like acid. He closes his eyes, breathing through his nose. Jungkook is silent on the other side of him. He seems to have reached the prolonged sleeping stage of the sickness. After this morning, he’s been out for hours, not having moved at all. 
“Here or the bathroom?” Yoongi asks when Taehyung’s jaw goes slack and the color drains from his face.
Taehyung sits up too quickly and gets a headrush. He places his palms on the bed with his eyes closed, trying to ground himself. He can make it to the bathroom, he thinks. A hiccup climbs up his throat. His eyes spring open, Yoongi has placed the trash bin underneath his chin. Taehyung still scrambles to get out of bed. Jungkook is sleeping so close, he doesn’t want to wake him up, and he knows Yoongi’s stomach is sensitive, he feels bad making him clean out the trash again. Yoongi follows him with the trash can still under his nose as they awkwardly make it to the bathroom. Taehyung gags loudly as soon as the floor switches from carpet to tile. He’s so close. Undigested bits of noodles spill into the trash can at the same time his knees buckle in front of the toilet. He pushes it away, a little too roughly and Yoongi almost drops it. 
He’s literally hugging the toilet because it’s the only thing that’s keeping him upright. He grips the seat so hard his knuckles are white. The sounds that Taehyung makes start all the way in his stomach. It’s a deep, reverberating sound that carries up and out his throat. Yoongi is generally concerned for his friend’s vocal chords. He just keeps rubbing his back to give him the comfort he knows he wants. 
“Aish, Taehyung-ah, you sound like you’re dying. Can you breathe for me?”
Taehyung shakes his head, droplets of water falling from his nose into the toilet below. He heaves again. Yoongi doesn’t know how but he’s still got something in him to throw up. Did they really eat that much last night? Yoongi rubs his own stomach. His breath echos into the bowl once he’s finally able to exhale. He looks up at Yoongi tiredly. 
“Hyung,” he pants. “My stomach hurts so bad.”
Jungkook is awake and wants to try eating something. Yoongi orders soup to the room and says that he has to keep broth down first before he’ll let him try anything else. Taehyung is pretty much inconsolable. His stomach is so sore that he can’t move from the curled position without yelping in pain. With his renewed energy Jungkook takes to giving Taehyung some comfort so that Yoongi can do quick things for himself like eating lunch, showering, and updating everyone on the boys’ conditions. Jungkook is sitting in bed with Taehyung wrapped around him, running his fingers through Taehyung’s hair. Now that he thinks he’s come out of the other side of the sickness he’s extremely sympathetic towards his friend. Is this how sad he looked last night? How did he ever make it through the award show at all if he was in the same state as Taehyung? Taehyung’s fever is high, so much that he’s starting to feel a little disoriented by it, but his stomach does not handle medication well when it’s empty so he knows it's futile to try to take anything. His cheeks are flushed and the back of his neck keeps flashing between hot and cold. He’s more uncomfortable than he’s felt in a long time. 
Once Yoongi is done he tells Jungkook to go take a shower, it’d be good to wash the sickness off of himself if he really is on the mend. Jungkook doesn’t want to leave Taehyung. Taehyung is clutching the hem of Jungkook’s shirt as a sharp pain runs through his stomach, he curls in further on himself, biting his lip and pressing his face into Jungkook to stop from whimpering so loudly. 
“I’m just going to wait until he relaxes,” Jungkook says quietly. He leans down and presses his nose into Taehyung’s hair. Jungkook usually loves the smell of his other members, but he can tell Taehyung is sick because his smell is all off. He murmurs quietly against his hot skin, telling Taehyung that he’s okay and he’s going to feel better soon. The cramping in Taehyung’s stomach says otherwise. It’s so quiet Yoongi almost doesn’t hear what Taehyung asks for. 
“Can I please see Jimin?” Taehyung mumbles into Jungkook’s stomach. 
“What, hyung?” Jungkook leans down to whisper into his ear. He brushes some of Taehyung’s hair off his forehead and out of his eyes. 
“Jimin,” Taehyung croaks. 
Yoongi can’t help but pout. Jimin and Taehyung are inseparable. Jimin is also the best one to take care of any of the members when they’re feeling down or in bad condition. It’s been almost two full days in this hotel room without spending time with the other members. But Namjoon’s rule is in place for a reason. If they all get sick one by one, they’re screwed. They only have so many days on the schedule and they’re supposed to fly back to South Korea over the weekend. 
“Taehyungie, what if we video chat with Jimin-ah?”
Taehyung sighs heavily. It’s not that he wants to talk to him or anyone, really. He doesn’t have the energy to talk. He just wants to physically be with Jimin. He shakes his head and settles back into Jungkook. He loves the Maknae so he knows he’ll be fine for the time being, but he really misses his best friend. 
Yoongi finally pries a sleeping Taehyung off of Jungkook twenty minutes later so that Jungkook can shower. He looks worried about leaving him but Yoongi assures him it’ll be fine. 
“How are you feeling, by the way?” Yoongi asks while Jungkook gathers his things to shower. 
“Better. Not fully recovered, my stomach muscles are going to be sore for a while, and I think you were right to suggest broth first, but better.”
Yoongi smiles as he settles quietly onto the bed with Taehyung. “Good, now go before he figures out you’re gone.”
It happens anyway. Taehyung is so feverish he can’t stay asleep for long and he wakes up just minutes after Jungkook starts the shower. 
“Can you drink something for me?” Yoongi asks. 
Taehyung doesn’t think he can move at all. His stomach is in knots. “Hyung, I think something is really, really wrong. This feels bad.”
“You’re not getting anything out, Taehyungie. Jungkook spent a lot of time throwing up. It’s going to feel worse before it gets better.”
Taehyung lies flat on his back. It makes him feel horrible. “Can you rub my stomach?” he begs. 
“Pressure or no pressure?” Yoongi asks, turning on his right side to face him. 
“Pressure, please.” 
Yoongi is talking about nonsense but Taehyung is so grateful for the distraction. His Daegu accent keeps slipping out as he goes on about the new song he’s working on and Taehyung could just crush him in a hug. It makes him feel so, so loved. It makes him miss home. It makes him miss his mom. Jungkook emerges from the bathroom quietly. He stands at the corner of the hall watching the two of them. Yoongi is pretty much whispering to Taehyung at this point the way you would tell a young one a bedtime story. Taehyung’s eyes are half open but he’s staring up at Yoongi in awe. Jungkook wants to snap a picture so badly. 
Taehyung stays sick into the night. It’s different in the way that Jungkook was sick. His fever is high and refuses to break. His stomach doesn’t stop giving him grief and even though the nausea is constant and overwhelming, he doesn’t bring anything up again past the afternoon. He wakes several times in the dark, searching for the body next to him that he knows he was wrapped around when he fell asleep. 
“You’re so hot,” Yoongi whines, wanting to shove him away but allows Taehyung to pull him close. 
Taehyung throws a leg over him. “Ya, but you remind me so much of home.”
Yoongi doesn’t whine about the heat again and sleeps without blankets for the rest of the night.  
No one is happier than Jimin when the boys are cleared of sickness the following afternoon. Still weak and exhausted, but no longer suspected as contagious, Taehyung steps into the hall for the first time in days. Jimin is waiting outside his own hotel room. 
“Taehyungie!!!!” he smiles happily and prances down the hallway. He engulfs his best friend in a hug. Taehyung clings to him. 
“Jimin-ssi!” Jungkook hollers when he steps into the hall as well. He joins in on their hug. 
Yoongi is the last to exit the hotel room before they head off to their interview for the day. He steps out quietly, admiring the youngest members and their puppylike way of piling onto each other whenever they’ve been apart too long. Taehyung catches his eye over Jimin’s shoulder. 
“Thank you,” he mouths to Yoongi. 
Yoongi ignores him but Taehyung sees the corner of his mouth rise as he makes his way to the elevator. He’ll never forget the way Yoongi nursed both of them back to help and the next time he gets sick or feels low, Taehyung promises to give him positive energy. He just hopes with all his might, it doesn’t happen at an award show. 
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You Belong With Me - Chapter 22
AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost
Description: Much to his surprise, after being released from prison for a crime he didn’t commit, Logan has been appointed as a the prince’s new advisor.  
Word Count: 3093
Chapter Warnings: Flirting/Romance (Let me know if I missed anything!)
    Patton's laugh echoed in the empty corridor as they approached Roman's quarters. Virgil had given up enforcing his strict protective formation from earlier in the night and had settled for allowing them walking in pairs on their way back. He led them through the quiet halls, chatting quietly with a very tired but giggly Patton walking beside him. Roman couldn't help but roll his eyes as Virgil made pun after pun to get a rise out of Patton.
     Most nights, he may have joined suit, leaning into Patton's tiredness to make him giggle, but he found himself preoccupied tonight. Logan walked beside him, silent as they listened to their friends' chatter and Roman had found himself sneaking glances at Logan as they moved down the halls. He seemed to be walking closer to him than he had on their way up to the observatory. His body language was more relaxed and the small, contented smile on his face made Roman’s heart flutter happily. He couldn't help but think there may be something there that wasn't there before.
    Roman breathed a happy sigh, wrapping an arm around Logan's shoulder and his knees went weak as Logan crossed his arms and leaned into him. The stupid grin on his face almost certainly should be enough to scare anyone off, but Logan didn't seem to mind. If anything, the man's smile grew wider at his touch and that small quirk in Logan's lip filled him with an energetic passion the likes of which he'd never known. When Logan looked at him, Roman ached to impress him. He would have moved mountains to see the man smile, because each time Logan’s defenses dropped even the slightest bit, his eyes sparkled with an intelligence and kindness that drove Roman wild.
    As they'd walked, Virgil continue to prod at Patton, who now howled with laughter but Roman didn't even register their words. Everything in the world seemed dimmer as he stared down at Logan’s smile and he couldn’t seem to focus on anything else. He watched as Logan rolled his eyes at Virgil’s jokes and he couldn't help but grin coyly down at Logan. He may deny it, but Roman thought Logan seemed to be hiding a smile at Virgil’s clever wordplay.
    Roman dropped his gaze from Logan as they approached the door, trying to sober his heartsick mind before he drew the attention of his other friends. To his dismay, Virgil had spun around at that very moment to open the door for them and one look at his face told Roman he hadn't hid his feelings nearly as well as he'd hoped. A concerned frown flashed over Virgil’s face as he glanced between Logan and himself. Roman stared back at him with a pleading glance, and fortunately, Virgil seemed to catch the meaning behind his glance as he looked to Logan, who remained oblivious to Virgil’s attention on the two of them as he stared happily up at Roman.
    Virgil held the door for them as they walked past the guards posted at Roman's chambers and Roman could feel Virgil's stare burning into him as he followed Logan and Patton into the room. Stepping in behind his friends, Virgil didn't hesitate even a moment to cut Roman off, stopping him in his tracks before he could move to join their other friends.
    “Hey, Pat. Isn't it time to change Logan’s bandages again?” Virgil asked pointedly, before Roman had a chance to speak.
    Roman turned and shot him a dirty look, making certain Patton and Logan didn’t see his irritation at Virgil’s apparent distrust of his intention
    “Oh yeah. Thanks, Virge.” Patton smiled tiredly, oblivious to the growing tension between his friends. “I'm so tired I nearly forgot. We should definitely do that before bed, Lo.”
    “No worries, Pat.” Virgil said, gently. “Why don't you take Logan in the other room and get him wrapped up nice and clean again? Princey and I don't mind waiting out here.”
    Roman crossed his arms and stared down at the him, gritting his teeth in frustration at being treated like a petulant child.
    “Sure. Come on, Lo.” Patton happily obliged, grabbing Logan’s hand and leading him out of the room. “We'll be quick!”
    Once the door had closed behind them, Virgil turned to Roman. His gentleness talking to Patton disappeared as he stared at Roman in bewilderment.
    “Don’t give me that look, Virge.” He refused to meet Virgil’s gaze, and instead, he moved to the fireplace to begin building a fire.
    “What are you doing, princey?” Virgil asked, exasperated.
    “I don't know what you're talking about.” Roman evaded, focusing solely on stacking the wood.
    Virgil glanced back at the door to Roman’s room and softened his tone. He moved closer to Roman, not wanting Patton or Logan to overhear their conversation. “I saw you staring at Logan just now.”
    “What's your point, Virge?” Roman muttered. “Patton was being affectionate with Logan as well and I don't see you scolding him like an unruly child.”
    “You know it's not the same, Roman.” Virgil’s voice softened to almost a whisper. “I know you, princey. I saw the was you were looking at him just now.”
    “And what if I am starting to care about him, Virgil?” Roman stopped his work, absently staring at the unlit wood in the fireplace. He suddenly felt numb as reality came crashing back down on him. He bit his lip, spitting his words a little too harshly. “It's not like you weren’t flirting with Patton all night. Who are you to judge me?”
    “You know it's not the same, Roman. I'm not a prince and neither is Patton.” Virgil sighed sympathetically. “I'm trying to look out for you, princey. You have to be more careful.”
    “I know that.” Roman muttered bitterly.
    Virgil stared at his friend for moment before coming up to stand behind his friend. He rested a hand on Roman’s back. “Have you actually talked to him?”
    “I'm not forcing anything on him.” Roman muttered breathlessly, quickly losing steam.
    “I know you're not, princey. I can see it in the way he looks at you too,” Virgil pulled Roman up from where he was kneeling on the floor and guided him to the couch. They sat for a moment and Virgil wrapped his arm around him. “but you know it's not that simple. You need to talk to him and set some expectations. Otherwise, you’re both going to end up getting hurt.”
    “I know.” Roman sighed, shaking his head. “Of course, you’re right. I acted without thinking.”
    Virgil gently rubbed his thumb across Roman’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.
    “I've never felt this way before, Virge.” Roman looked down at the ground, his voice despondent. “I’d accepted I wouldn't be allowed to marry for love, but to feel like this and not even get to hope for a happy ending is crushing.”
    “It's not fair for you, but not all is lost. Just because you can't marry him doesn't mean you can't have anything together, assuming he's willing.” Virgil leaned his head on Roman's shoulder. “Listen, if it'll help, I'll take Patton to my place tonight and give you guys a chance to talk. Okay?”
    “Okay. Thank you.” Roman was quiet for a while. “I don’t know what I'll do if he rejects me, Virgil. I feel like my whole soul is in on this one.”
    “Worst comes to worst, we get through it together. I'm always here for you, princey,” Virgil turned and made Roman look at him. “but listen. Don’t panic if he needs time to think. He's been through a lot and it's a lot to consider all at once.”
    “Right. I know.” Roman sighed. “I won't force anything.”
    “It's all going to work out, princey.”
    “Thanks, Virgil.”
    They sat together for a while, lost in thought as time dragged on. Roman eventually found himself standing to finish stacking the kindling. After the fire was roaring, he paused for a moment before stepping back to rejoin Virgil on the couch. They were both quiet, staring into the flames. Virgil absentmindedly wrapped his arm around Roman’s shoulder, sinking into the corner of the couch. He pulled Roman close until he was practically laying on Virgil’s chest. They sat together, silently watching the fire crackle and burn and letting the night slowly pass them by, until quiet voices jolted them from their thoughts and the door to Roman’s room opened.
    “Make sure you take this tonight. Two spoons worth should help you sleep through the night, but let me know if you still feel groggy in the morning or if you wake up too early. We can make adjustments tomorrow, if we need to, Lo.”
    “Thank you, Patton. I really appreciate all you've done for me.”
    “Anytime, kiddo.”
    Roman stood up off the couch and Virgil quickly followed him.
    “How are you doing, Lo?” Roman asked.
    Logan smiled at him. “Quite well. Patton has taken excellent care of me. Most of my wounds have made significant improvements thanks to his expertise.”
    “That’s good to hear. I'm so glad to hear you’re doing better.” Roman smiled at him sweetly, trying desperately not to stare at the happy expression on Logan's face. He had to bite his lip to keep a wide grin from spreading across his face as redness dusted Logan’s cheeks and he looked away shyly.
    “Alright, it's late. Pat, grab your stuff.” Virgil interrupted. “You and I are going to stay at my place. Everyone needs some proper rest and there's not enough space here tonight without someone having to crash on the floor.”
    Patton looked back to Logan for a moment, hesitating. Virgil thought for a second that he may protest but after a moment he seemed to give in, too tired to argue. He nodded. “Okay, kiddo. I'll be ready in a minute.”
    Patton seemed willing to accept the arrangements but Virgil could see discomfort in Logan’s eyes as the suggestion. “Don't worry, L. It won't be long. Tomorrow, princey will have to return to his duties, so I’ll be back first thing in the morning.”
    “Sure, Vee.” Logan replied, hanging his head to hide his nervousness. He swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat. Despite enjoying their night out, the idea of spending the night alone with Roman was still an intimidating prospect. Unfortunately, he couldn’t exactly say that to Virgil with Roman watching him. “Thank you.”
    “Everything's good, L. I'll be back before you know it,” Virgil smiled encouragingly at him. “and I've got some things I’d like to show you tomorrow, if you’re up for it.”
    Logan looked up at him curiously. “What type of things?”
     “I'll tell you about it tomorrow, L." Virgil smirked. "Just be ready to work.”
    “Okay, I will.” Logan muttered, staring intently at Virgil as Patton walked up behind them, yawning.
    “I'm ready to go, Virgil.”
    “Okay. Let's get you to bed, Pat. You’re starting to look dead on your feet.” Virgil smiled gently at Patton, wrapping an arm around his shoulder as he guided him to the door. “We'll see both of you tomorrow. Good night!”
    Roman and Logan echoed their goodbyes cheerily as their friends left the room, but as the door closed slowly behind them, an awkward silence hung in the air and Logan could feel himself growing tense.
    “Yes, Roman?” Logan asked nervously, not looking away from the door.
    “Can we talk?”
    “S-sure, Roman.” Logan looked over at him, crossing his arms as he hesitantly made his way back across the room towards Roman.
    “There's no need to be nervous, Lo.” Roman smiled encouragingly. He extended a hand to him and Logan felt himself hesitated before Roman quickly stepped forward to reassure him. “We're just going to talk, Logan. Nothing more.”
    Logan smiled at him weakly and nodded as he reluctantly took Roman's hand. He allowed Roman to lead him over to the couch, tensing as Roman pulled him down next to him, dropping Logan's hand as he sat. Logan turned his head away. He hoped the heat of the fire would excuse the redness in his cheeks.
    “What?” Logan didn't even look up at Roman. He was too focused on keeping his breathing steady.
    “Are you okay?”
    “I'm fine,” Logan forced himself to look up to Roman, trying not to allow his anxiety show. An encouraging smile spread wide across Roman’s face and the prince's eyes sparkled in the light of the fire. Logan felt some of the pressure release from his chest and he smiled back at Roman.  “Although, I'll admit I'm anxious about what you have to say.”
    “Listen, Lo.” Roman sighed quietly. “I think I've made it obvious that I'm starting to fall for you.”
    Logan looked away, feeling his cheeks burn. Panic burned in his chest and his breath suddenly caught in his lungs. “Ro—”
    “Please, Logan." Roman stopped him, staring at him with pleading in his eyes. "Just let me finish before you panic, okay?”
    Logan bit his lip and nodded, glancing up at him. He blinked, noticing for the first time that Roman also seemed shaken.
    “I know this is not fair for me to ask of you.” Roman leaned closer, hesitantly offering a hand to Logan. “You've been through so much. You haven't had the chance to catch your breath, let alone process any of it.”
    Logan nodded, watching Roman closely as he allowed Roman to take his hand. His nervousness disappeared and he kept his expression neutral as he listened to Roman's words.
    “Perhaps, I should have controlled my actions more completely, but tonight, I allowed my true feelings to show without regard for how that may affect you." Roman paused. "I want to be with you, Logan. I treasure every moment I've been allowed to spend with you and I want the chance to continue to make you happy."
    Logan stared at him, shock settling into his chest. His body felt like it was on fire as he watched Roman's face as he continued to speak.
    "I'm going to be honest with you. Being together would be hard and complicated. It could never be official because of my title and suitors would continue to court for my hand.” Roman smiled weakly at him, defeated. “Nothing would make me happier than for you to say yes, but I don't want to deceive you into believing this is a fairy tale.”
    Logan frowned and looked down at his lap, considering Roman's words carefully.
    “I know you only just started to trust me and the last thing I want to do is undermine the trust we've built by forcing anything on you,” Roman sighed, gently massaging Logan's wrist with his thumb. "but I've never felt like this before and I think you feel it too."
    Logan's face was carefully neutral as Roman continued.
    Roman smiled at him sweetly. “But if you don't, that's okay too. I brought you on as my advisor because I saw talent, passion and kindness in you, and I want you around, regardless of if anything ever happens between us. Even if you simply don't want to get involved with me, everything just goes back to normal. That's it. No consequences. No hard feelings. I give my word that nothing changes.”
    Logan was quiet, looking down at their interlacing fingers. The firelight flickered in his eyes, sparkling with life as he analyzed Roman's words.
    “What do you think, Lo?” Roman asked. He stopped running his thumb along Logan’s hand, tensed as he waited for Logan’s response.
    “May I take some time to consider your proposal?” Logan glanced up at him, his face neutral as he gauged Roman’s reaction.
    “Take all the time you need, Logan. At the very least, you should sleep on it.” Roman smiled at him patiently. “Please, take the bed. I don’t mind sleeping here for the night.”
    “Roman—" Logan looked up at him, starting to protest.
    “Please, I insist, Logan.” Roman interrupted sternly, not giving Logan a chance to argue. “Regardless of anything that I said tonight, you are still recovering from significant injuries and you need proper rest.”
    “Very well, Roman. I'll take the bed. Though I think the gesture unnecessary, I do appreciate your concern for my well-being.” Logan smiled at him as he sat up, leaning forward off the couch. His careful expression didn’t falter for a second as he paused to look at Roman. “Perhaps, I should rest then.”
    “Of course, Lo. Get some rest.” Roman smiled tiredly at Logan. Now that he'd said his piece, the adrenaline was fading and he found himself quickly exhausting. “I'll see you in the morning.”
    "Though, before I go," Logan hesitated, glancing curiously up at Roman.  He bit his lip and was quiet for a moment before nervously turning to Roman again. “There is some information that I believe could be beneficial to my decision-making process.”
    “Sure thing, Lo.” Roman yawned. “What would you like to know?”
    Logan watched him cautiously. “Are you sure I'm not over-stepping boundaries?”
    “Absolutely. Nothing is off-limits if it helps you come to a conclusion.” Roman muttered sleepily. “For better or worse, I’m putting everything on the table.”
   “If that is the case, then I would like to try something.” Logan leaned forward slowly, watching carefully as Roman tensed. He paused, waiting for Roman to relax before continuing. Gently sliding his hand up Roman’s cheek to the back of his neck, Logan pulled him into a kiss. Warm lips pressed against his and he gasped, breathing in Roman’s breath.
    His lips were so much softer than Logan could have imagined. He moved closer to Roman, almost kneeling over him and he shuddered, feeling Roman tentatively kiss him back as Logan pushed forward more forcefully.
    Every cell in Logan’s body felt like it was on fire, and it took all of Logan's self-control to pull back. Breathing hard, Logan looked down at Roman’s shocked face. Logan’s face flushed with embarrassment, though he couldn’t hide the contented smile on his face. He took one more glance at the soft look in Roman's eyes before turning to skirt the edge of the couch as he quickly left the room.
    Dazed, Roman stared at Logan as he briskly walked out of the room, leaving him speechless. His body tingled as he slowly melted into the cushions beneath him. Thoughts of the sweet taste of Logan's lips danced through his head and he turned a rosy shade of pink as a smile spread wide across his face.
Author’s note: Wait for it <3
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@cas-is-a-hunter @insert-cool-blogname @ironwoman359 @i-know-im-smart @imbadatnames8d @croftersphoenix @optimistic-violinist @chronicallynervouschild @croftersjam15 @actitus-hypoleucos @unbefuckinglieveable @justthatamount @eeveeeclair246 @taxicabinmemphis @dwbh888
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a-lil-perspective · a year ago
The Bad Batch and “Off Days”
A/N: Here is a lovely mix of headcanons and drabbles for my favorite boys. I wanted to explore a different side here through general bonding, so this is the Bad Batch and how they tackle “off days”. We all have them, and sometimes it gets even the toughest Commandos down. But with Ramikadyc—a Commando state of mind that one can endure anything—we can all make it past and towards better days. :) For these guys, all that’s required is some brotherly love. I spent a lot of time breaking down each of their characters, and I hope you enjoy and that this proves as wholesome for you as it does for me.
Hunter: One can only carry the weight of the galaxy, their family, and their team for so long before they succumb to a jaded mindset. Even the most tenacious Sergeant is prone to these days. There are days he’s downright frustrated and oh-so-tired. Hunter’s trepidations and insecurities rarely flourish, but when they do, they can really pull him under. During these times, Hunter can become quite terse, so when Tech in particular won’t give Hunter a moment’s peace to collect himself because the brilliant engineer of a brother just won’t stop rambling, Hunter’s fuse is a bit short. Tech and his youngest-sibling-syndrome can and does take the attitudinal charge quite personal, and he will shrink away to evaluate. Until he surfaces, this is initially a job for the middle siblings. (Wrecker and Crosshair).
How the bros help:
Wrecker: Physical Comfort and Encouragement
—Wrecker is ALWAYS the first one to comfort Hunter and keep him company. It’s easy for Wrecker to sympathize with his older brother’s many burdens as well as his sensory oriented episodes.
—Hunter once taught Wrecker exactly the way he likes to be held and where to apply the most pressure, to which Wrecker made a point to remember, because he was the one who asked.
—Wrecker will always begin by scooping Hunter up and cradling him. He also can’t resist a good head pet—Wrecker loves Hunter’s soft head of hair—and it turns out to be quite soothing for the both of them. Hunter was initially a little hesitant on the petting, but he quickly learned how much he actually enjoyed it. He’s not above asking for it, either.
—Hunter can take the best naps when Wrecker is his pillow. Wrecker’s hands are soothing, so he almost always wakes up feeling much better—physically and mentally.
—Many times, Hunter will think aloud to Wrecker, seeking his opinion and approval. Even Hunter needs validation from time to time, and Wrecker provides great POV’s.
Wrecker smoothed down the stray ebony strands on Hunter’s crown. The Sergeant hummed in approval as he surfaced from his deep musings.
“Wreck. Be honest. Do you really think I’m a good leader? I mean. Wouldn’t you prefer someone else?”
Wrecker’s hands faltered as he frowned down at his older brother. “What kind of question is that, Sarge?”
Hunter suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to shy away from pressing the question any further. “I don’t know... I’m just... overthinking,” he flashed his most convincing smile. “Never mind. Don’t worry about it.”
Wrecker’s hands resume a tender pace. “I worry about you a lot. You’re too hard on yourself.”
“Ah, it’s fine,” Hunter deflects. “Perks of being ori’vod.”
“No,” Wrecker chides. “Hunter. You’re the best leader out there. You’ve always taken care of us. We never would’ve made it this far without ya. You know it’s true. You understand us like no one else can.”
“But I could understand better.”
“Who better to understand us defects, any better than you already do?”
Hunter chuckled as he registered. Wrecker was quite the poetic type. “You got me there, vod.” He continues vehemently, “Truthfully, I would never let anyone else assume leader and take care of you guys. That’s my job. Someone would have to pry it from my cold, dead hands. Literally.”
“And that’s not gonna happen anytime soon. Not you dyin’ on us, or you being replaced,” Wrecker assured. “No more of that talk, Sarge. It’s been a long day. You need to relax now.”
“Maybe I do...” Hunter’s eyes fluttered over the way Wrecker twirled a particular strand.
“Aliit darasuum, Hunter.”
“Family forever,” Hunter agreed.
Tech: Thoughtful Giving
—So after Tech is done sulking over the way ori’vod scolded him to stop talking, Tech and his analytical mind will go on to gauge Hunter’s psyche. What does ori’vod need? Why does ori’vod feel this way? How can I help?—Many questions surface, and Tech has every intention of addressing as many as he can.
—So Tech begins his research. Perhaps Hunter has not had the recommended amount of hugs required per day? Perhaps Hunter’s physical health is compromised? Perhaps he requires verbal support?
—One of the things buried in Tech’s search engine is “How to make your older brother feel loved?” (Crosshair finds it and never lets Tech hear the end.)
—Usually Crosshair is the thoughtful giver of the bunch, but Tech’s giving nature really shines through with Hunter. As an engineer, he’s thoughtful and innovative. This has been proven long ago, ever since Tech created Hunter’s bandana to possess a weighted function that provides just enough firmness to the pressure points along Hunter’s cranial to alleviate the amount of headaches he receives. It helps tremendously, thus for reasons aside from sentimental, Hunter wears the bandana all the time.
—After Tech procures some tips from a blog on healthy mental habits, he begins curating an insightful presentation for Hunter. It will require a lot of talking and even though Hunter may not want to hear that, it is good for him.
Tech nearly drops the stack of flimsi and hard drives as he approaches Hunter. There’s a confidence that emanates from the young genius, for no deterrence on Hunter’s part is going to prevent Tech from his brilliant presentation. He worked hard on this. Clearing his throat, he addresses his discouraged older brother.
“Hunter. I have just what you need.”
“Uh, Tech—what is all this stuff?” Hunter is wide-eyed as he scans over the flimsi and digitals.
“This stuff is going to be your next greatest achievement,” Tech confidently relays, setting up his research. After eyeing Hunter shift uncomfortably, he suggests, “You might want to stay seated for this and clear your schedule—I have a lot to say.”
Hunter could barely contain the groan that escaped.
One. Damn. Hour.
That’s was the duration of Tech’s ‘presentation’. Maker help the Sergeant subject to it.
All irked stature aside—Hunter was thoroughly impressed, and there was that familiar swell in his chest that fondly probed whenever he reflected on his brothers and their endearing uniqueness. Tech’s broad expanse of knowledge never ceased to amaze him.
Though all the facts about ‘recommended amounts of physical affection per day’, and ‘increased sex drive=improved mood’ blurred together for Hunter, with some portions of the psychoanalysis proving to be a little too much information for his overall intake. By the time Tech was finished, Hunter’s discomfort was manifested through a light sheen of sweat on the back of his neck.
The information Hunter took most to heart were the relaxing stretches and various exercises shown. Tech had compiled the posed imagery and description of each move onto a disk for Hunter, who appreciated the convenience of it. This was definitely something Hunter could incorporate into his routine every morning. The stretches looked soothing and clarity-inducing, which would be good for his stress.
Hunter wondered how long he’d been lost in thought, with the way Tech blinked expectantly at him. Hunter cleared his throat and mustered his deepest appreciation.
“Thanks little bro. That was actually really helpful. I’ll put some of it to good use, I promise.”
“Like the suggestions to regulate libido—”
Crosshair: Heart-to-Heart
—Look. Crosshair gets extremely emotional when Hunter is down. It’s a mix of guilt, obligation, and a love for his eldest brother that more authentically surfaces when spirits are low.
—Hunter is not much of a drinker, but sometimes he will share just one with Cross. The sniper doesn’t share his stash often, only ever with Hunter, actually. To Crosshair, it’s a peace offering and an obscure sign of respect when he offers his best shot.
—Aside from the option of alcohol, it’s usually Crosshair’s emotions that buzz through, and Hunter’s overall perturbation gets Crosshair in a state of real honesty, real quick.
—Crosshair doesn’t exactly go about it in the nicest way, because admitting feelings is initially difficult for him, so he just barges in to angrily tell Hunter how much he loves him and to stop being sad. Somehow it does the trick.
“Dank farrik Hunter! I cant take your sulking anymore.”
Sithspit. It’s been hours since Hunter’s exaggerated solemnity began, and the sniper forwent all delicate approach as his feet and emotions barge in of their volition.
Ori’vod deciphers the way Crosshair’s expression is pained and... on the verge of tears? Hunter simply gazes in bewilderment at his emotionally charged brother as Crosshair continues rattling off. “Man up. You’re a damn good Sergeant, an even better brother, you make my favorite food, you can always find the missing socks, and we’re all idiots without you.”
“No. Shut up. Quit bein’ mopey. You’re better and more mature than any of us. We don’t deserve you but we love you more than anything... I love you more than anything.”
Heat rises to Crosshair’s cheeks, and he clenches his fists over the way Hunter’s eyes now sparkle with mirth and bore into him. It’s annoying as hell and goads the sniper. The silence is deafening.
“Well? Do you feel better now?” Crosshair demands through grit teeth.
Hunter takes a moment to ease himself back into the bed. He allows a deep chuckle to emit. His hands relax above and behind his head as a smirk of suavity manifests. “Oh yes. I do feel much better knowing you love me, Cross. You’re such a caring younger brother. What would I do without your overflowing adoration?”
Crosshair’s face flushed further as Hunter suddenly looked past the sniper at an unforeseen force. “Hey Tech. Did ya get all that in a recording?”
“Every word, Sarge.”
“Damn you both! This is the last time you’ll hear an ‘I love you’ from me!” Crosshair stormed out as Hunter and Tech’s wheezing fill the space instead.
Wrecker: On his “off days”, the lack of a usual exuberance and boisterous demeanor encompassing Wrecker is painfully evident. Wrecker suddenly isn’t hosting impromptu hug sessions? Something’s definitely wrong there. It’s fair to say that each brother combats their own insecurities, and Wrecker is no exception. It is wholly believable that he expects too much of himself. In many ways, Wrecker is the anchor of the team. Good natured, keeps it lively. Always looking out for and uplifting his brothers (literally), and keeping them safe thanks to his advanced physical prowess. Even the most minute injury any of his brothers may obtain can leave Wrecker with a lot of guilt and a heavy burden. He wants to make his family and team proud, and definitely requires periodic waves of affirmation to keep up his spirits.
How the bros help:
Hunter: Food and Music
—Obviously, Hunter is a great cook. When Wrecker is down, Hunter gets right to whipping up the favorites. Some of the dishes mess with Hunter’s senses, but he pushes through it because he loves Wrecker that kriffing much.
—One of the few ways to get to Wrecker’s heart is through good food. Wrecker gets so excited when Hunter brings him his favorite plate. It almost always cheers him up right then and there.
—Wrecker also enjoys the radio. He and Hunter love listening to music. Only really loud music with heavy bass and such will throw off Hunter’s equilibrium, but that’s not Wrecker’s taste anyway, so it’s perfectly normal for the two of them to go for hours just eating and chilling to musical broadcasts. But Wrecker’s favorite tunes are the ones Hunter strums on the guitar.
Wrecker sometimes claimed his senses were superior to Hunter’s, because the smell of roasted Nuna drumsticks wafting in was a scent Wrecker could decipher from several klicks, and suddenly the demolition expert can’t even remember what had his spirits low just moments earlier.
“Hope you’re hungry. Brought you a favorite,” Hunter pokes his head in. With the way Wrecker bounces with excitement, Hunter chortles. “But you probably already knew that.” He hands Wrecker a plate, who takes a moment to administer the usual praises over Hunter’s culinary skills.
“Who’s playing tonight?”
While Hunter had cooked, Wrecker kept an ear out for different musicians in the lineup. The current one, Wrecker was hesitant to relay.
“Sy Snoodle...”
Again? Hunter’s expression, predictably, morphed into disdain. “Eh... too nasally for me.”
“You’re way better than her or any of ‘em,” Wrecker blurted through a mouthful of food.
Hunter gave him a wry smile. “You give me too much credit, Wreck.”
“It’s true! No one has an ear for them tunes like you do!”
Hunter knew what that meant. It was Wrecker’s indirect way of asking for an impromptu gig. The musically inclined Sergeant couldn’t resist his brother’s imploring eyes. He chuckled.
“Alright. I’ll grab the old thing.” Hunter left and returned in a heartbeat, sporting his beloved acoustic. She was older and worn, the scuffed hollow body housing a window of memories. Her strings were as crisp as ever, especially with a skilled man strumming.
“Any requests?”
Wrecker immediately piped up with his favorite before calling Tech and Crosshair in.
“You have to sing it, too,” Wrecker insisted.
Hunter bit his lip to keep from discouraging. His flourishing modesty over his musical superiority was as thick as a wall. But this is what his brothers wanted. It was restorative for the soul—all of theirs. In a time where tomorrow is never promised, and a Clone’s time of luxuries are slim to none, how could Hunter refuse his brothers what little bit he could offer? He swallowed his inhibitions and began strumming.
“...And oh, we ain't gotta take it too far from home Little bit of heaven's just down the road
Where we can lay back, open up a cold one, take it slow
I like Piña coladas down in PCB
Get me that whiskey and cola 'neath that old pine tree
Ain't nothin' wrong with that white sand and some ocean breeze
Right now this lakefront view is paradise to me
Paradise to me...”
Wrecker provided backup vocals with crisp whistles. His eyes that were closed in a state of pure bliss didn’t notice Hunter’s own now copying. Hunter could feel the music, the mixed vibrations of instrument and his rich vocal chords deep in his soul. Each breath he inhaled to belt out each verse filled him with an indescribable serenity. He was floating. They all were—including Tech and Crosshair, who sat on the floor next to Hunter while the Sergeant was on a euphoric cloud. Wrecker was riding his own not far behind.
Tech: Projects and Humor
—Tech will quickly whip up a stimulating project for the two of them to work on, something wholesome to take Wrecker’s mind off of any self doubt.
—Said project will indefinitely have explosions, and Tech is pleased with the way Wrecker’s face lights up with them.
—Tech and Wrecker also have “study sessions” over Senatorial broadcasts—really, it’s just a good excuse for Wrecker to make fun of the pompous Senators making fools of themselves. Wrecker can effectively cheer up over a good Net session. Tech usually gives more politically informed and neutral opinions on each one, while Crosshair loves to chime in with his own colorful opinions. (When the baby Tech is not present, Wrecker and Crosshair have a more explicit session involving cursing like sailors and intensely roasting the majority of them)
—Tech enjoys making fun recordings with Wrecker, whether it be sound or full on imagery videos encapsulating their cheekiness. They are absolutely the pranksters, and nothing lifts Wrecker’s mood more. Even at the expense of Crosshair’s.
“Cross is gonna kill you for that,” Wrecker snorted.
“Yes but first, he will be most impressed,” Tech rationalized. The menacing tower of toothpicks stacked precariously, but overall impressively, on Crosshair’s small table next to his cot was a daring feat for the two pranksters of the Bad Batch. There was no particular reason for the instigated project, nor the culmination of toothpick-stick men on the side, but it somehow added more hilarity to the fact that Crosshair harbored an uncanny resemblance to them.
The brothers were intent on telling him as much, what with the way the sniper’s attitude had been overly sour as of late. In the eyes of a baby brother, this treatment only seemed fair, really.
“The hell is this?”
Tech bit the inside of his cheek as he turned to Crosshair, who’s pupils were protuberant upon assessing the events that transpired in his room. Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. Do. Not. Laugh...
“Ah... we were just doing... a study?” Wrecker offers most unconvincingly.
“Oh, yes,” Tech quickly chimed in. “A very comprehensive study. Because look, Crosshair—” Tech turned to pick up the nearest stick man, “—this spindly, inanimate figure created out of wooden material and utilized to remove detritus in oral hygiene looks just like you!”
“Why you little—”
Hunter suddenly reached in to pull Crosshair away from the looming physical altercation, a thick swirl of expletives and threats fading with distance.
When Wrecker and Tech could catch a breath from the laughter, Wrecker eyed the thin wooden fort and sobered up his mirth. He turned to Tech.
“Wait. Was that the last box?”
Wrecker and Tech looked to each other and burst into another round of cackles.
Crosshair: Physical Affection
—Surprising to both Crosshair and Wrecker, physical affection—hugs, specifically—is the preferred coping method amid Wrecker’s distress.
—Crosshair almost never initiates physical affection. The idea largely makes him uncomfortable, even if the affection is directed towards his beloved brothers. This mindset improves steadily over time.
—Until then, however: when Wrecker is down in the dumps, Crosshair grudgingly comes to terms with the fact that the quickest way to alleviate the larger man’s distress is with some good ole’ reverse psychology.
Wrecker sighs deeply as he paces outside the Marauder. There’s a gentle breeze. He’s cracking his joints and working to dislodge that heavy feeling blowing through him. It’s so foreign, and the demolition expert wishes he could press a detonator to make it all disperse simultaneously.
Wrecker doesn’t think he’s allowed to be genuinely upset. What would his brothers think? Everyone expected thick arms of comfort and a thick shell of impenetrable tenacity amid their despair, but Wrecker... he really didn’t have that for himself. He was both the giver and the receiver—the receiver of emotions, at the very most.
Wrecker wonders if he’s ever really been needed—
No, it’s silly to even remotely dwell on that. He can hear Hunter chiding him for conjuring that mindset. They’re brothers, and brothers stick together until the very end—and beyond.
But today, Wrecker finds that he doesn’t even have the energy for a snuggle session, and the prospect, of lack thereof, perturbed the Commando. His brothers always anticipated affection. And nothing warmed Wrecker’s heart more than administering it to his brothers. But the breeze felt exaggeratedly cold against his skin, and there was only so much his own large hands could do to provide comfort, to shield his burly frame from the elements and his festering isolation.
Wrecker doesn’t know how many laps he’s paced around the Marauder before he jerks reflexively at arms slithering into an embrace from behind. Lanky arms barely encircled halfway around his waist immediately register for the hulking man.
“Woah—Cross, you okay?” Wrecker quickly turns to the sniper and habitually searches his face for a sign of distress. Crosshair doesn’t seem upset or disturbed... just... concerned?
“I know you’re not, that’s for sure,” Crosshair deduces with a frown.
“Oh... I am okay.”
“You’re a terrible liar, Wreck.”
With another firm hug to his brother’s front, Crosshair cuts off any culminating excuses.
Wrecker is at a loss for words as he tentatively reciprocates and embraces the smaller man. Crosshair never openly initiates affection... Wrecker was touched. Despite Crosshair’s complexities, he knows how much the gesture means to the big guy, and Wrecker loved the selflessness in it. A question, a need for affirmation, pressed to the back of his mind.
“Cross? ...Why the hug?”
“Because you need one,” Crosshair says gently, and squeezes tighter. “For all the times you knew I needed one, and all the times I needed you.”
Tech: It’s no secret that this man is largely secure in his ingenuity. Positively hyper fixated, adept, and innovative, Tech is constantly pushing the boundaries for the deconstruction and rebuilding of any idealisms and systems he encounters along the way. While admirable, it undoubtedly leaves Tech in a state of burgeoning frustration when he struggles to bypass a chink in the system that is his buzzing mind and ideology. Over-exaggeration and theatrics, prominent symptoms of his ever-present “youngest sibling syndrome”, aids Tech in a quick downward spiral. One might even go as far as to convey the almost humorous picturesque of Tech lying on the floor, throwing what is classified as none other than a tantrum. When this happens, Tech requires a delicate blend of self rebooting.
How the bros help:
Hunter: Words of Affirmation
—Hunter’s perceptive nature allows him to scout out Tech’s despondent form quicker than the others.
—It usually happens on the middle of the night, when Tech is going on his third or fourth day with no rest and thus his emotions start to go haywire.
—During, Tech has an overwhelming amount of tinkering parts littered throughout his space. Hunter inwardly screams at the sheer mess.
—Even the most ingenious men need a little encouragement. Especially if they’re a baby brother.
It’s 03:30. A burdened groan echoes from Tech as he sinks to the floor in defeat. Stomping his foot once in frustration before sprawling out, Tech believes the floor pressed harshly to his stiff back should just swallow him for his failure. If only I could just bypass the rudimentary for this Cortosis-weave. It cost us a great deal of credits, I just have to get this right—
The young engineer turns his head in the direction of Hunter’s voice flooding in from the doorway. He bears a mug and eyes narrowed in concern, if only slight amusement tugging the corners of his lips.
“Hunter. Please disregard my peculiar state. I’m... in the midst of deep pondering.”
“Sure that’s all?” Hunter mused wisely, carefully weaving through the scattered stockpile of inanimate objects lined like traps.
With his ori’vod’s broad frame now hovering over him, Tech slowly relinquished his feigned contentment with a huff of exasperation.
“I just... I can’t get it! I can’t seem to bypass these components! I always thought my capability to address mechanisms were sufficient, but now... I’m not so sure,” Tech finishes. The disappointment coloring his perceived shortcomings is palpable.
Hunter quickly placed the mug on the floor and heaved Tech to his feet. He placed firm hands on his the engineer’s shoulders, dipping slightly to meet him at eye level. “Tech,” Hunter took a moment to gingerly reposition the goggles that sat crooked atop his kih’vod’s exhausted face. “You are a genius. You can accomplish anything you put your mind to—and you do, every day. I believe in you. More than anyone, or anything.” Hunter finished by pulling Tech into a strong hug. “I’m proud of you. Please get some rest now. It’s so late.”
“Not until I finish...” Tech weakly argued with his face buried.
“It will be waiting for you in a few hours. Rest.” Hunter ordered gently.
Tech suddenly eyed the full mug of caf on the floor, and Hunter clucked in disapproval.
“Ah, don’t even think about it, vod’ika. You’ve exceeded your limit.”
Tech flashed Hunter a small smile as he pulls away and relents. “Perhaps sleep will be good for me... just think of all the tasks that can be accomplished with a rejuvenated mind! Yes... yes this is good.”
“This is good,” Hunter agreed with a smile.
Wrecker: Hands-On Support and Enthusiasm
—Wrecker gives off chemist vibes. He is always the most eager to assist with any of Tech’s projects. Especially if there will be explosions.
—When Tech is feeling down, Wrecker’s enthusiastic nature restores Tech’s inspiration. The big guy is Tech’s number one fan and has a lot of great ideas, himself.
—Tech appreciates that Wrecker offers to be the guinea pig. By all accounts, it proves for a most productive session. Even if Wrecker’s blacks end up singed in the process. When ori’vod demands to know why, Wrecker and Tech haven’t the slightest idea what Hunter means.
—Wrecker and Tech are like Tadashi and Hiro from Big Hero 6, in that, when Tech is struggling to formulate ideas, Wrecker will scoop Tech up and shake him about, telling him to “find a new angle!” Obviously, Tech always gets a big brain moment from hanging upside down over Wrecker’s shoulders.
“Feelin’ anything yet?” Wrecker eagerly calls back to Tech—who is, quite literally clinging to the large man’s back like a oversized pack.
Oversized pack...
Tech is vaguely aware of the blood rushing to his head and he hang upside down, legs strewn over Wrecker’s shoulders. There’s a heavy feeling in his brain as he bob up and down with Wrecker’s sporadic movement, but with the exact angle of Tech’s bent kneecaps, he’s able to cling with ease.
Like a magnet...
After five minutes of critical thinking and fluid pooling internally, an idea forcefully struck Tech, and he shouts with glee despite himself.
“I have it! Wrecker, please lower me. We’re about to break barriers! Literally.”
Wrecker laughs as he flips Tech over and stands him upright once again.
“Whatcha thinking, vod’ika?”
To an engineer, there is no better feeling than a deep streak of inspiration. It’s invigorating, and the adrenaline that proceeds releases a pleasing amount of serotonin.
Tech smirked triumphantly. “Two words, Wrecker: Magnetic. Packs.”
Crosshair: Stargazing and Strategy
—Tech and Crosshair’s go-to hobby? Stargazing. It is without fail that when the stars are in a particular array of brilliance, the two brothers gather up some charting equipment and datapads and set out. For the greatest viewing pleasure, perched atop the Havoc Marauder is the best place to be.
—There’s something about that astral projection that lifts Tech’s entire mood. It leaves him in a state of sheer wonder.
—Crosshair, too. His sharp eyes are drawn to the color and patterns, but it’s the trajectory the really pulls him in. Being a sniper, Crosshair is superior in calculating windage and angles, and the way the stars bounce off of each other in erratic fashion somehow make perfect sense to the sniper, so he hones in on it.
—Their favorite trivia to share—the only kind Crosshair will fully sit through and enjoy—is concerning the constellations and cosmos.
—While Wrecker and Tech are partners in outlandish projects and test runs, Crosshair and Tech are partners in fine-tuning. They both work on armor upgrades together, and their extensive, combined knowledge of detail-orientation and armor components make them a great team.
—They also work on different battle combinations together—again, Crosshair’s superiority in trajectory and precision play a huge role here, and the two brothers are able to work up some unique combos to add to the Bad Batch’s overall list of battle plans.
Plan 43, they call it.
Crosshair and Tech had spent the day on the range, and Tech was feeling rather uninspired and unhelpful. After all, how much good can one contribute to an already superlative sniper?
Crosshair picked up on Tech’s grousing right away. Nearly an hour into his session and Tech was practically begging for a part to pitch. A complacent smirk spread through Crosshair as the idea came to him. He immediately called his brother over.
Tech’s face twisted in surprisal, even more so with the way Crosshair positioned him directly in front, rifle at the ready.
“If I may ask, what exactly is your plan?”
“You may ask, and get ready to shoot out a disk on my mark.” Tech quickly fiddled with the box atop his gauntlet, pressing a series of buttons to program the launch of a target from the mechanical trap positioned on the ground beside them.
After a quick confirmation from both parties, the target whistled past Tech at his initiation of the launch, and the weight of Crosshair’s rifle suddenly perched atop his right shoulder startled Tech more than the cacophonous blue blaster bolt blowing right next to his ear. The object soaring through the sky exploded into oblivion at the contact, as did Tech’s thoughts. He remained frozen even after the weight of the weapon lifted.
Crosshair removed himself and watched the gears churn in his kih’vod’s very sound mind for a beat. He patiently waits for Tech to speak up, and found himself eagerly anticipating the brilliant idea Tech was no doubt procuring in that moment. The engineer spun to face him.
“I just realized something.”
“That your choice to incorporate my shoulder into your follow through approach was rather profound.”
Crosshair smirked. “Because it was badass?”
“Because it was a symbol of trust, and I experienced a thrill over my direct participation in the execution of your sniping skills. That was quite invigorating. Let’s do it again.”
Crosshair slung am arm over Tech’s shoulder. “Oh little brother, there’s plenty more where that came from. Let’s make a plan out of it.”
Tech’s eyes lit up in brilliance as his sniper brother smiled down at him. “THE POSSIBILITIES.”
Crosshair: Listen. I believe with my whole heart that Crosshair struggles the most with depression and mood swings out of his brothers. Not solely a negative byproduct from his time on Kamino, but because I headcanon that he has that chemical imbalance. Some days it hits him out of nowhere and he becomes glued to his cot for the entirety of the day, involuntarily sulking and very glum. Crosshair emotes in a rather interesting way, and despite his usual demeanor of thinly veiled irritability and aloofness, Crosshair’s “off days” are very discernible to his brothers and are therefore approached with vastly different methods of support.
How the bros help:
Hunter: Silence and Affirmation
—Aside from profound listening skills accredited to the role of older brother and leader of the bunch, Hunter really is the best company to be in no matter whether a person’s coping mechanisms are more introverted or extroverted. Need comforting silence? Hunter’s the man. Need to verbally vent? Just need to be held? Hunter’s got you. Don’t worry about him, he’ll be fine. He’s always looking out for everyone.
—The man EXUDES calm and a coveted equanimity, which Crosshair really comes to appreciate. Despite Crosshair’s confrontational attitude, he is not a high strung or hyperactive man by any means. Quietude is his go-to.
—Both Hunter and Crosshair are the type to be more than content with just each other’s presence. They have this peculiar way of emitting to the other in a very unobtrusive way. It’s therapeutic all in itself.
—Hunter absolutely allows Crosshair to dictate which way the conversation (if any) will shift. It’s a way to show respect and validation for his brother’s complex feelings.
—Hunter will simply sit at the foot of the cot while Cross lies as still as a toothpick. Neither knows how much time passes before Crosshair finally speaks up to convey a semblance of his feelings. Hunter is extremely understanding and always able to provide a new perspective.
Hunter doesn’t know how long he’s sat planted atop Crosshair’s cot, but his stiff muscles emitting a dull ache suggest that he’s kept the spindly man company for at least a half hour. A sudden chuff of breath startles Hunter.
“I feel like Bantha shit.” Crosshair finally and rather bluntly divulges.
“I know you do, vod,” Hunter recovers with a sympathetic smile and gives a supportive squeeze to the sniper’s knee. “What do you need?”
“For you to give me back my Whiskey,” Crosshair grumbles.
“No can do,” Hunter chuckles. “I know for a fact you’ve had at least three shots before I came in, I’m capping it off there.” At that, Crosshair deflects with a crude gesture in his ori’vod’s direction. Hunter only laughs harder. “You’ll thank me later,” he assures.
“Like hell I will.”
“Vod, just breathe. It will help you relax.”
Crosshair takes the advice and focuses on measured breaths with minimal grumblings. Some time passes before he speaks up again. It’s desperate this time.
“Why do I feel this way?”
Hunter sighs. “I can’t say I know, exactly... But I do know that it will get better, Cross.”
“Sure as hell don’t seem that way.”
“I know.” Hunter gives Crosshair another squeeze. “I used to wonder about that back when my headaches were real bad, remember? But we’re survivors, and we’ll continue to be, no matter what. Ramikadyc. I’m right here if you need me.”
“...Thank you.”
Wrecker: Card Games and Physical Comfort
—Maker, bless that pure, sweet man. Wrecker knows just how to cheer Crosshair up.
—Since they are both competitive, (and I headcanon Crosshair taught Wrecker his very best card tricks) Wrecker will whip out a deck of cards and wordlessly hover over Cross to hand him his portion of the stack. It’s just those two within the silence, and Wrecker is thoughtful and rather attentive to Crosshair’s emotions in particular.
—I have written down in one of my WIPS that “Wrecker retains his innocence while exposing the wicked”, and I think that absolutely applies to his relationship with Crosshair in that, Wrecker’s more joyful attributes can pick up on melancholy nearly as well as Hunter. I’m telling you.
—Afterwards, once Cross has cracked a smirk over winning and the numbness slowly starts dissipating, Wrecker will scoop Cross up in a bone-crushing hug.
Wrecker saunters over to Crosshair’s form flattened within the cot. Large hands are turning over a deck of playing cards in contemplation. The sniper’s eyes remain closed, even though he feels another presence in the room. It isn’t until the crisp sound of cards shuffling together in succinct fashion that Crosshair’s eyes shoot open. It’s a sound that is music to the sniper’s ears, and a hobby that is wholesome to his gambling heart; with a brother that fills his soul.
“Thought you could use a good game,” Wrecker offers gently, wasting no time in distributing Crosshair’s portion of cards.
The fine lines that have smoothened from Crosshair’s face is what silently thanks Wrecker. Before no time, both men are fully immersed, each one as hell bent on winning as the next.
“You know,” Wrecker mused lightly, “I think I’m going to beat you this time. I’ve got a good feeling about this one.”
“Ah, don’t push it,” Crosshair suggested, with some effort in projecting. “Ain’t nothing gonna make me lose a winning steak.”
“Well we’ll just have to see, won’t we?” Wrecker smirked challengingly. The demolition expert knew better than anyone: you prime the charge and set the countdown, first. And so the large, hearty man will positively instigate his brother’s competitive tendencies before letting it explode into a colorful, successful outcome of lifted spirits and more card decks.
Hugs, too—it is without fail that Wrecker ends each session with a bone crushing embrace to his nimble brother, and Crosshair’s feigned grumbles muffled into Wrecker’s chest only make him squeeze tighter.
Tech: Snuggling, Aesthetics, Overall Cuteness
—Let me tell you: Crosshair is weak for his baby brother. Crosshair may act annoyed or disengaged at the incessant ramblings, but he adores the baby genius.
—Tech will quickly come to realize that Crosshair requires a different approach during these “off days”. It took Tech awhile to discern between when he should drown Crosshair in trivia, or when he should just be silent and listen. Tech usually has something insightful to share and learns to present the information in a way that’s not overwhelming for Crosshair.
—Every time without fail, Crosshair wordlessly slides over in the cot to allow Tech a spot. Tech will scoot in and lie close to Cross with a datapad. Crosshair is a man of aesthetic, so Tech will find some calming photos for them to look at. Colorful skylines are their favorite. Tech has to really refrain from spilling out a ton of fun facts and trivia during that time. But he will throw in a fact here and there, just for something to distract Crosshair, who immensely appreciates it.
—Tech makes all these quirky facial expressions when he’s in a pensive state, and Crosshair (again, aesthetic) has a keen eye for them. He inevitably ends up staring down at Tech and just focusing on his face. It actually cheers Crosshair up. He’ll finally smirk and poke at Tech’s cheek, having eased back into his usual goading behavior.
“Tech,” Crosshair mumbled as Tech scrolled on the datapad, pulling up the next set of captured horizons. The latter brother’s head is resting underneath the sniper’s chin, and the skin of his nose harbors three distinct horizontal lines crossing atop, an indicator of his fervent concentration. Crosshair can’t stop focusing on it.
“Yes, Crosshair?”
“You’re such a cute baby brother. I just want to tell you that.”
Tech’s face contorts with distress. He exasperatedly looks up to Crosshair. “I am a man of technological prowess! I do not possess even a semblance of cuteness!” Tech composes himself and slowly relents. “But... if it will help you feel better Crosshair, then, I concede to your choice of therapeutic methods.”
“Good,” Crosshair pokes at Tech’s cheek and a smirk effortlessly finds it’s way to his face. He bites his lower lip to prevent a laugh at the sight of Tech’s own now jutted out in a pout. Crosshair ruffles his brother’s chestnut hair and inhales deeply as that light feeling finally spreads through him once again. Brothers. That’s all he needs.
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recurring-polynya · a year ago
Loved reading your comments on that Izuru post, especially about how people write teasing. You gave some great examples of things to definitely avoid; do you have any tips or general thoughts on writing good teasing?
I have never wanted to talk about anything more in my life.
Teasing is a form of dysfunctional communication that reveals a lot about all the parties involved. It can be layered and complicated, and it can both establish a lot about the relationships of your characters, and provide jumping off points for both bonding and miscommunication.
The most important things to think about when writing teasing are:
What is the teasing character trying to evoke? (this may be conscious or subconscious)
What are the sore points/not sore points of the character being teased?
What am I, the writer, trying to accomplish here?
Let’s start with a very easy example:
Draco Malfoy wants to make Harry Potter mad, so he teases him about his dead mom. J. K. Rowling’s goal as a writer is to convince you that Draco is a dick. It’s super-effective.
It’s a low-blow. It’s deeply mean. There’s no subtlety. This is just bullying. We have all experienced this, we know it when we see it. I don’t think this is the kind of teasing you were asking about, but it’s important to establish this as a baseline, because this is what teasing can turn into, if done wrong.
We can tweak this a little to a very different effect:
Draco wants to make Hermione upset, so he calls her a mudblood. 
Harry doesn’t know what this word means, is confused.
Herminione knows this is an insult, but most plays it off. It’s not culturally significant to her and also, she DNGAF about Draco.
Ron goes spare. This is a huge insult to him, he loves his friends, and he has no chill.
Draco is still a dick, but he’s also kind dumb and focuses on insults that would be insulting to him because he doesn’t know his enemy very well and also is not good at thinking outside of his own head.
Now we have fit in exposition and a ton of character-building. Neat!
Let’s move on to friendly teasing. Here are some positive roles teasing can play:
Replacing uncomfortable tension in a group. Often you may have one character in the group who is an outsider for some reason. Perhaps they were a former antagonist, or someone who has some fundamental difference between the characters. Teasing, particularly over something incredibly low stakes and stupid, gives a reason for the outside character to be mildly irritated with the others, which makes it easier for them to relax the actual tension they feel by being in a group where they don’t belong. Think Aang shouting “Flameo, Hotman!” at Zuko or everyone making fun of Uryuu’s cape.
Finding comfort in being marginalized. This is closely related to self-deprecating humor, and a character shouldn’t say something about someone else if they wouldn’t say about themself. Also, characters are going to have different comfort levels with this. I will make jokes about how bisexually I dress and the way that I sit, but I don’t go around shouting “Oh my God, that’s super gay!” although I certainly have gay friends that do. This is a way you can establish how comfortable a character is in that identity, but it can be fraught, and if you don’t have some personal experience with the identity you’re writing about, I would avoid going too hard. In Bleach, I will often have characters from Rukongai bond a little more easily, and make fun of some of the more formal aspects of life in the Seireitei when there are no nobles around. Further, Rukia and Renji super low-class, even among the Rukongai crowd (only Zaraki and Yachiru are lower, and I have never once read a fanfic of Kenpachi and Renji bonding over this, and I’m mad about it), and so when I have them calling each other trashbags and lowlifes, it’s a case of “I can make fun of you because we come from the same mudpit, but I will cut anyone else who says this about you.”
Allowing characters to present in a way that they choose.  We sometimes invent roles for ourselves that we want others to see. I do this a lot with Renji-- when he comes to the big city, he’s a big, rough, scary dude. I am 100% sure he broke peoples’ limbs in Inuzuri. But he wants to be liked and he wants to be approachable, especially now that he’s a vice-captain, so he puts on kind of a big dumb oaf routine, and all his friends support him in this by making jokes about skipping leg day and calling him a dope and a goob. These are not hurtful insults, because this is how he chooses to present himself.
Leveling group dynamics.  Related to the previous item, a lot of times, friend groups require people to fulfill different roles in order to keep everything running smoothly. Take for example, the Renji - Momo - Izuru - Shuuhei friendship. They come from a lot of different backgrounds, they’ve each had a lot of different personal challenges, and the friendship has lasted a loooooong time. Izuru has a lot more money and class than the rest of them. Shuuhei is the oldest. I bet Momo got extremely full of herself when she became Aizen’s vice-captain. Renji lagged the rest of them in becoming vice-captain, but then, he came out of the Aizen debacle in better shape than everyone else. We can’t all confront all these complex interpersonal dynamics all the time, sometimes you just wanna hang out at the bar and drag each other a little, and it’s comfortable and relaxing to just fall back on personas. Everyone teases Renji for being dumb and strong, Shuuhei for being hot and dramatic, Izuru for being pasty and poetic, Momo for being organized and congenitally unable to break a rule. A great place to insert drama is when you have a character who has outgrown these dynamics, who is sick of playing a role within a friend group-- old jokes that used to gloss over uncomfortable matters are suddenly causing the discomfort.
Play. A lot of teasing is honestly just for fun. Scoring points on your friends. In this case, the teasing can be as harsh or soft as you like, although the harsher you go, the more you risk actually hurting someone’s feelings (again, story hook!) I love this as an example:
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Ichigo tries to tease Orihime over old bread of all things. Orihime is fireproof, she knows Ichigo loves her old bread and also is incapable of delivering a sick burn, but then Ishida and Chad just pile on, suck it, Ichigo, we all know who runs this group of nakama.
As a writer, this is your chance to show off your humor chops! The purposes of these scenes is not just to show your friendships, but to have fun and be funny! Having characters just call each other names is not really funny. In this example, Ichigo is trying to be cool, and his crew, none of whom are remotely cool, all hit the OBJECTION button hard at the same time and it’s hilarious.
Giving friendships age.  People you have been friends with for ages know things about you. Have characters bring up embarrassing stories. Tease each other about the way they used to be, but no longer are. This is also a powerful way to distinguish between an old friendship that is still going strong, and one that has gone stale, but persists, perhaps for nostalgia reasons, where the teasing rankles. Maybe your story wants to resurrect this friendship, or maybe you want to show a character moving on. This is also a way to add exposition: Say Character A, who is usually very casual, dresses up for a fancy event. You can have Character B rib them about how they have never seen them looking so good. Then you can have Character A react in a number of ways: self-conscious or defensive, perhaps, or they could be flirty and brag about how nice they clean up, it’s up to you!
Giving friendships depth.  Best friends can say things that other friends and casual acquaintances can’t, in part because they have a keen understanding of how to hurt each other (and how not to). A key in portraying different levels of friendships is boundaries, and a great dramatic tool is bumping up against those boundaries. In general, I have Renji let Rukia tease him about nearly everything, but occasionally, she’ll bring up what a glory-hound he was in their school days, and he freezes up every time. She can’t really figure this out, because he’s usually game for letting her pick on his dumbass teen boy behavior and she can’t figure out how this is any different. The thing is, he’s never told her that the reason he was busting his ass was to impress her and to be able to get a good job and provide for her, and it blew up in his face, and he can’t very well admit that now, without having to admit a lot of other stuff, too. ::holds fist in the air:: This is the good stuff.
A corollary, tired jokes.  Rukia is 4’9” tall and she must be sick to death of hearing about it. It’s so obvious and so lame. It sucks being short, it’s a huge inconvenience on a daily basis, especially when your job involves trying to be tough and intimidating. It’s not like she chose this for herself. This is the lowest possible hanging fruit of teasing. But that doesn’t mean we need to ignore it completely. I have characters like Ikkaku, who doesn’t know her all that well, and is also an ass, throw it at her a lot, and mostly she either sighs and rolls her eyes, or she insults him back. Now, if Renji never mentioned it, it would feel like he was tiptoeing around it, which Rukia would be offended by. She’s not humorless, just tired. So, instead, I will only have him make short jokes if a) they are actually funny, or b) it’s a situation where the joke is really obvious and they’ll usually follow up with something like “I had to.” The idea is that, as best friend and chief trash talker, he’s contractually obligated to make the joke, but he finds it almost as tired as she does. Also, I turn it around a lot by having her make fun of him for being tall, as though being 6’2” is some sort of embarrassment and that he did it on purpose, and he just takes it.
This is real. My husband and I were in a very similar professional field, and he makes more than me, even though I have more education and work harder, and he lets me make fun of what a useless white dude he is, but if he sees it coming, he will definitely make a “you can’t do math because you’re a woman” joke, which he obviously doesn’t think is true. Only he is allowed to do this. It is very cathartic. We also make jokes about how he will never truly be successful because he is short.
I don’t write Ichigo as much, but I approach this a little differently with him, a) because he hasn’t been friends with Rukia for as long, or on such a day-to-day basis that he knows how much this irritates her, and b) he’s a teen. Instead, I try to have him actually put some effort into his jokes, like calling her Shorty McCaptainface. “Shortstack” and fun-sized/travel-sized/adventure-sized (for your convenience) are much more gentler and playful. 
Please, please, I beg you, do not use “midget.” It’s not a nice word and it’s so, so tired.
All of this goes generally for other types of characters with the kind of physical characteristics that tactless people feel free to comment (being fat, wearing glasses, having prominent teeth, etc), or experience structural discrimination. Just think about how you would like your best friend to handle it.
Arright, it’s time to hit the elephant in the room: Teasing that leads into romance.  This was such a huge trope when I was a kid, I grew up steeped in this idea of “a boy teases you because he likes you,” and I’m honestly glad we’re starting to move past this as a culture. You can still have a fun and teasing relationship without being mean, which I will get to, but let’s start with the OG couple of teasing because they like each other: Ranma and Akane. Now, as it happens, I have been re-watching Ranma ½ with my husband, who had never seen it, and on one hand, this show is a pioneer, it is amazing in terms of comedic beats, but on the other hand, it’s aged quite a bit and smacks of “I hate my wife” Boomer humor with a heavy helping of “no homo!” slathered on top. So, here’s how it works:
Ranma and Akane have been forced into an engagement by their fathers. Despite the fact that they have pretty similar and compatible personalities, they get off on the wrong foot, compounded by the fact that they are each deeply insecure about their gender presentations. They are each also profoundly stubborn. So, what happens, every single episode, is that one or the other will do something kind or heroic for the other, and the other’s heart will go “oh SHIT I like them but to reveal so would be to present vulnerability” so they insult each other instead. The insults that Ranma and Akane fling at each other are deeply hurtful and they are super-effective. Now, the one who has taken the risk of going out on a limb for the other has now been lambasted for their efforts, and responds with more insults. This is the fundamental tension of the show: they like each other and are terrified to admit it, so they force the other apart.
Now, as the show progresses, my memory is (and forgive me if I get this wrong, we’re still pretty close to the beginning, and as far as the long game goes, I am sure my memory is contaminated by too much fanfic), far, far down the road, when they eventually come to understand each other better, when Ranma tells Akane she’s an uncute, tomboy, she’s able to parse that as “I like you so much and I want to say so, but seriously, you know how ridiculous my upbringing was,” and when she responds with “You pervert!”, Ranma knows she is really saying “I know that, and also, you do not need to feel self-conscious about your girl form, I’m kinda into that.”
This is essentially a slow burn tactic. You need a tremendous amount of time to build out this kind of relationship. A lot of people try to skip straight from “characters insult each other!” to “characters are in love, they just couldn’t admit it!” and it does not work, especially if you reader is a person who has ever been in a shitty relationship. I would not want to be with someone who called me hurtful names. The fact that they were trying to cover up the fact that they did it because they liked me is not romantic. It says to me, “this person does not treat the people they love well.” Writers, we can do better.
Teasing creates tension, as I said, and it is often that case that we use it to trade a feeling we can’t handle for one that we can. For Ranma and Akane, they are trading attraction for combativeness. They can’t admit they like each other because they are deeply stubborn and also because they are very, very immature.
Conversely, characters may tease to deflect their feelings because of outside forces that they have no control of. 
Rukia is fundamentally uncomfortable expressing her feelings. She had no parents. She has no experience with unconditional love, which is pretty essential for healthy childhood development. I’ve talked before about my Rukongai headcanon that it was taboo to openly express affection, because it is a brutal and dangerous town and to love is to show weakness. In this case, teasing can play a fundamental role. As children, if she started to express something that strays too close to an earnest emotion or attachment, Renji might respond with “Aaah, shut up, you sap.”
This is not mean-spirited. Renji is acknowledging that he hears her, he recognizes her feeling and prevents her from breaking the taboo. The teasing helps Rukia to save face. This creates a blind spot in their friendship, however. They know each other extremely well, they have a thorough read on each other’s moods and motivations and body language, but because they’ve never, ever been able to talk frankly about their emotions, they are both stuck in this place where they can’t tell if they like each other romantically and they don’t know how to bridge that gap. They don’t need to be mean to each other, but they are unable to progress because they keep blowing off the difficult conversations they ought to be having.
Keep in mind, I am keeping the teasing at low to medium stakes. It’s also difficult, because they’ve been apart for so long, that there are some topics that aren’t safe anymore, and sometimes they don’t realize that until after they’ve accidentally hurt each other’s feelings, again, an opportunity for some mild plot drama that’s based on misunderstanding, rather than these people are assholes.
Rukia’s relationship with Ichigo is very similar. Ichigo is also terrible at expressing feelings, partly because of his mom’s death, his dad is his dad, and he is a teen. I have read a lot of arguments that he’s neurodiverse, and frankly, I’m for that, too. I tend to characterize their friendship as very intense. They haven’t known each other very long, but they just have a lot of feelings, OKAY?! They have saved each other’s lives in very dramatic ways, they feel that they owe the other in ways they can never repay, and they just friggin’ like the heck out of each other, but their lives are also fundamentally incompatible, starting with the fact that Rukia is dead and Ichigo is alive. 
So, when I am writing them bantering, one of my go-tos is to have them make fun of each other’s chosen planes of existence. “Why do you keep juice in boxes?” Rukia demands, as if it’s somehow Ichigo’s fault. “You can’t even ride a bike, you idiot,” Ichigo might rib her, as if she even knows what a bike is. What they are really doing here, is pushing against the fact that they have chosen to live separate existences and they’re honestly a little upset about that. “It’s dumb that we can’t hang out all the time,” is what they are saying. “I understand your decision, but I’m still gonna make fun of you.” This is incredibly low-stakes dragging, and also it’s a good place to be funny. I’m sure you have had someone make fun of your school or your job or your town in a way that you feel the need to defend it, and then you’re like “why am I defending this, it really is dumb, actually?” 
One last thing, which is to think a lot about the word choices you use in your teasing, and try to organize them by intensity. My go-tos are “dummy” and “dumbass” because they get the point across, but they aren’t particularly mean and they are very generic. I also like slightly silly ones like “dunderhead” or “lunk” or “goob” or “doofus.” Paired insults are fun-- have one character greet another as “What’s up, nerd?” and have the first respond with “How’s it hanging, jock?”  “Stupid” is slightly meaner, but I will often use it if one character is being self-deprecating, I will have the other respond “don’t be stupid,” or something like that, where it’s reassurance disguised as trash-talk. You can temper harder insults with tone: e.g., “You moron,” Rukia said affectionately. 
Some people call their friends “bitch” humorously, and that’s a kind of friendship you can certainly choose to portray, but think hard about if that fits your characters and your writing style first. I try to avoid gendered insults; sometimes I’ll have villians use them, but even so, do we need to? Maybe not. Don’t use hurtful words unless your teaser actually intends to hurt (whether or not it’s effective).
And remember, you don’t even need to use insults to tease (or to hurt, for that matter)! Think about how your character would react to be called “fancy.” Or “cute.” Or “rustic.” Tease them about the apron they wear for cooking, or the fact that they don’t know how to use a cell phone, or their terribly out-of-style footwear. Also, it can be just as fun to have your character respond to teasing by leaning into it, or laughing back, or riffing, they don’t have to just get pissed off. 
This post is so long. I am so sorry. Go write some teasing. Have fun. I can’t wait to read it.
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heli0s-writes · 2 years ago
IV. A Commitment*
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes Summary:  Natasha teaches you how to kiss. Tony gives you an opportunity. A/N: Part 4 of Mystery of Love. . (*) denotes NSFW!!  
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At 23, you were struggling to have a conversation about … it.
It was almost three weeks since your moment on Steve’s couch with him and Bucky. Their touches on your skin haunted you day and night, and it made your work at the compound significantly more difficult than you could have ever imagined. It was hard to find clarity under such zealous and watchful eyes, and the distance you continued to keep them at would eventually be thwarted. You had to ask Pepper for an extension on your assignment mid-May before it got too out of hand. She happily obliged, very understanding of your predicament. The deadline was extended indefinitely, but having no schedule threw you further off course.
In an effort to control at least your personal life, you allowed yourself to spend time with Steve and Bucky in small bursts, intent on not repeating another couch-event. They each had very different approaches of being in your presence, you found out. Steve was happy to accompany you to galleries and the store if he was already in town- which he often was whether it be by coincidence or intention.
You took walks with him through the park, had coffee together, read the paper, and laughed at the comic strips. You’d go to bookstores where he’d browse non-fiction and history while you showed him some of your favorite art books, teaching him about famous artists and their vision. Your conversations were light and full of laughter.
Once, he met you at a local bar and you discovered his passion for sports- one you didn’t share but were happy to appreciate. You didn’t even know the championship game was going on that day and in the middle of it it’d become so rambunctious (someone recognized him!) that the two of you had to run out before it could conclude.
 Physically, Steve was rather indulgent of your reservations. He’d hold your hand in private and brush his fingers over your knuckles in public. More than the touches, it was his gaze that sent your blood rushing. He perfected that slow lingering sweep with his eyes. There was no fervent message to be analyzed behind those blue-green gazes—only a simple feeling. And that feeling he held for you was incomprehensible. It swept you away.
It wasn’t like you didn’t want to be physical or intimate because you loved the feel of the pads of his fingers and his callused palms. Or that smooth line of his winning smile, tilting upwards on one side. You constantly thought about those rough edges of Steve Rogers on your body.
It was rather that you were so fearful of crushing all the eggshells under your feet labelled “Steve and Bucky’s Tentative and Healing Friendship”.
Oh, you knew about The Winter Soldier and HYDRA. You’d gotten the quick and dirty version from Steve after your initial meeting with Bucky; the wipes, the assassinations, the complete and utter control they had on him for 70 years. The image of him in ice seared itself into your brain, the thought of them putting him up when they were finished using him killed you.
You weren’t just heartbroken, you were livid. You couldn’t help but take it so personally and you couldn’t quite explain why to Steve as you sobbed uncontrollably in the kitchen that morning except rasping breaths of goddamn it, oh god, Bucky. By the time Bucky returned from his run, your eyes were swollen and pink, bottom lip nearly chewed through.
You buried your face in his chest and whispered that you were happy to have him in your life and nothing else. There couldn’t be anything else yet. He was still raw, and you couldn’t tear him open any more.
 Spending time with Bucky was significantly different, and a much more delicate task than Steve. He was hesitant to go into the city, a choice you understood completely so you never asked. Instead the two of you spent lots of time on separate sides of couches with tea and a book, careful not to sit too close. He’d gladly sit with a movie on while you worked on editing your many files.
After travelling for so long, you wanted to pick up your old hobbies again, so you started to make small meals at the compound. Bucky was hardly a cook by any means, but always seemed to know when you needed an ingredient from the cupboard and before you could fumble to reach for it, he’d have already set it next to your hand.
The conversations were short, and as you expected, he never divulged anything meaningful. After you had the talk with Steve, Bucky often sent you precarious glances, worried you might lash out because of his past. When you carried on as usual, the weight lifted from his shoulders.
Bucky was more physical, to say the least. He tried to respect your boundaries, but it wasn’t unlike him to push them from time to time. Unlike Steve’s tender gazes, Bucky stared intensely and openly. There were many a time when you’d look up from your book to see him on the other side of the sectional, staring straight through the pages and right at your face. His fingers would be tapping on his knee. When you’d finally see it and swallow nervously, he’d smirk and look back to his book.
Or you’d sit on the floor with your laptop open on the coffee table and Bucky would have silently moved from his supposed area on the couch to directly behind you. He’d lean over close, so that his breath would tickle your ear and ask you innocently about the picture you were working on. It never failed to send shivers up your spine and elicit wide, devilish grins from him.
It was his favorite game. It set you on fire.  
And so it was that you attempted to balance your time with both men, as they navigated their own schedules of work, training, and rehabilitation.
You also tried to retain any semblance of your employment to Stark Industries.
You snapped pictures here and there, trying your best to maintain the illusion of your contract. There were some exceptional ones of the interior but photographing the Avengers themselves was challenging. Especially when it came to Bucky. He could sense any time you were in the room and strictly refused to ignore your presence. There were no candids taken of Bucky Barnes; he simply did not allow it. He never stopped staring at you.
At the end of May, you put the assignment on pause and decided instead to focus on the photos from your travels. Pepper kindly put up a room for you so you didn’t have to make the trip to and from the compound, but you were afraid that being in such close(ish) quarters with Steve and Bucky would lead to complications. She was very understanding at your hesitance and careful not to pry but left the offer open if you had any questions. You contemplated asking her, but in the end decided to save your queries for someone less motherly and more straightforward.
 When you turned up at Natasha’s room, she hardly seemed surprised. She had two Irish Mules set on coasters on the small coffee table. You took a sip, licking your lips at the lime and ginger beer; she could really make a drink. It would have been bad to get drunk quickly and spill all your secrets, but there was something about her presence that was tossing out all pretense. You supposed the phrase, “You can’t bullshit a bullshitter” was especially applicable with Natasha.
The first query slipped out before you could catch it.
“Does it hurt?”
The right corner of her lips lifted, but her eyebrows raised in sympathy at your innocent question. It was a valid one, of course, and it was right of you to ask it. Natasha assured you that discomfort is normal at first since you’d never experienced it before- but that they both should be treating you respectfully, kindly, and lovingly. She restated that there was nothing wrong with taking it slow, finding your own pace and easing into it, and doing what you feel is comfortable.
When you told her you’d never kissed anyone before and that Bucky sucking on your finger probably didn’t count, she sputtered up a bit of her cocktail mid-drink. She didn’t specify whether it was because you’d never been kissed or if it was the... other thing.
“I don’t even know how it works. There’s two of them.” You’d been stuck on it all month. You’d have to decide in the end, and sure, maybe Bucky wasn’t jealous when Steve kissed your hand or when you’d go out with him but what if they started fighting about who got to do what with you. It wasn’t like they were each others’ soulmates. You complained to Natasha more freely at the end of your mug.
What if they didn’t like how you looked?! What if you were bad in bed? What if they got bored after seeking the physical aspects? What if that was all that became of your relationship?
She had listened to your rambling briefly but became determined to put a stop to the madness and set down her drink.
“You have to stop being so crazy, those two are closer than you or I can imagine. You might need to be convinced about the validity of being Soulmates, but those old boys do not. They have committed.”
There was that word again, you thought.
“And, if you’re so worried about your first kiss...” A single red brow raised itself high up her forehead, “I can show you. No more worrying about who kissed you first.” Natasha set her copper mug down with a definitive clink.
It might have been the drink that was making you brave, or the desperation of wanting some relief to your constant distress, because you eagerly said yes. Natasha had brushed back loose strands of your hair with her hand and propped herself up on her knees. She hovered over you, letting her locks fall over your face.
“Is this okay?”
You nodded, captivated. You could feel your eyes fluttering as she lowered her lips to yours in a single tranquil movement. Her warm breath pleasantly caressed your mouth as she kissed you. Natasha’s lips were soft and full, velvety with every parting and descent. One hand came to cup your jaw, pulling you closer and deeper into her motions. You didn’t expect the sound your mouths made against each other- the smacking was half disturbing, half arousing.
She had seemed like a good kisser, but it was almost a clinical experience, whether it was because it was a learning moment from a friend, or if it was because you were so concentrated on memorizing Natasha’s actions, that made it not quite enjoyable as the movies tried to portray. There were no string quartets harmonizing in the background or doves flying, only the lax pulse of your heart in your own ears.
When she finally pulled away, you were expectant for another one; you wanted to learn. She cocked her head at your silence.
“How was it?” You had thought about it for a second before answering truthfully, “Noisy...”
Natasha howled with laughter. When she gathered herself enough to speak again, her raspy voice was slightly a little more hoarse than usual.
“Kid,” she gasped, “The noises are the best part, trust me.”
The unexpected statement made your abdomen clench. You vaguely wondered what kind of noises Steve and Bucky might make, but hurriedly squashed them. Linger on that one for too long, and you’d burst.
After another half hour of fielding questions, she finally sent you back to your quarters with a flash-drive in hand, disclosing to you that it was her personal collection of “friendly” pornography- which made your entire body flush crimson. It was for you to watch, explore, fantasize about, and maybe get some ideas before the day arrives. Before opening the door, Natasha called your name sternly.
“Remember when I asked you if it was okay before I kissed you?”
You nodded.
“There is nothing wrong with that. In fact, they should be asking you. Porn does not capture all the real-life shit that happens during sex. There is nothing embarrassing about asking questions, voicing your needs and desires, and talking to each other. You’re not going to be awesome at it the first time. But you’ve got the rest of your life to practice.”
You thanked her sincerely. There was nowhere else that you were going to receive this kind of lesson and you really wanted her to know. Natasha shooed you out of her room, pointing to the flash drive gripped tight in your fist.
“Go rub out some good ones for me, okay?”
With a wink and playful slap on your ass, she promptly kicked you out but not before deftly tucking a flask of whiskey under your arm. You shoved the deviant things as deep into the pocket of your jeans as possible and wandered to the guest room Pepper had set up. You often took naps in there, and it would have been a better idea to go home, but you were strangely eager. Bucky and Steve were in the shooting range this evening, so you hoped they’d be fully distracted with loud gunfire and not sniff you out with 100 gigabytes of porn in your pocket.
 Once safe in the comfort of the room, you tentatively launched a window on your laptop, headphones jacked in, one bud hanging loose. Your door was locked all the way, and you had wiggled the handle thrice just to be safe, satisfied when nothing budged.
 Natasha’s files were categorized into multiple folders and subfolders. You made a mental note to thank her for such thorough and thoughtful placement of the videos, sorted and titled by extremely efficient keywords. She had a deliberate folder of multiple threesome videos, just for you, and you promptly decide to never bring it up any of it. Reading the titles alone made your legs tingle; your mind couldn’t help but automatically fit Steve or Bucky in the fantasy.
You fired up the first video, reaching over to the small nightstand to inhale two fingers of whiskey for good measure. It burned your insides going down but became a relief when it took your mind off the fire in your cheeks at the performance unfolding on your dim screen. Once again, your brain replaced the two male actors with your respective soulmates, and yourself as the woman sitting in the middle of the bed.
Of course you’d masturbated before, you weren’t a nun, for crying out loud; some bodily tension could only be relieved in a certain way. And it just so happened since the Binding, you were in the habit of doing it much more, anyway. It was difficult to spend all day with Bucky’s burning gaze and Steve’s feather light touches and expect yourself to immediately fall asleep...
Your phone lit up as two large hands caress the actress’ shapely thighs.
Tony’s face blinked on the screen. You ignored it, concentrated on thick fingers peeling the flimsy material of a lacy bralette down. Open-mouthed sloppy kisses begin between the woman and the man on the left as the one on the right cups the breast closest to him in a firm hold. You imagined a ghostly touch on your own chest and shuddered. One hand imitated the actions between the woman’s legs: feather-light touches interspersed with solid grips. The tickle creates chills that crawl all over your skin.
Tony face blinked again on your phone.
You fixed your posture against the headboard of your bed and flexed your legs, straightening them for a more relaxed pose. Your palm traced over the slope of your thighs as they dipped into a valley in the middle, slowly you brought your other hand to your chest, following the line of Steve’s Words. Bucky’s eyes flashed in your mind when one of the men catches the woman’s fingers in his mouth in a hard suck. The woman’s free hand and palms the opposite man’s crotch, rubbing slow circles around the tent in his jeans. He sucks in a low hiss of air and groans lightly, a profane word wiggling its way out of his mouth. In your left ear, it sounded like Steve.
F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice filling the room sent you into shock.
“Mr. Stark is requesting your presence in the living quarters.”
In a panic, you slammed your hands down on the keyboard of your laptop multiple times, silently screaming when the headphone jack falls out and there’s moaning repeatedly being paused and played in the darkness of your room.
“How does he--”
“Mr. Stark had me do a sweep of the rooms to find you.”
“Mr. Stark does not know what you are watching.”
You grumbled, accepting the interface’s comment. Sometimes it was hard for you to remember that she wasn’t an actual person since she so often responded in very human ways, including predicting your source of embarrassment. You flopped down on the bed, muffling your face in the soft comfort of your pillow, catching the smell of your whiskey-sour breath.
“Please tell Mr. Stark I’ll be coming,”
“That's an interesting choice of words, ma’am.”
Another scream was muffled in the pillow before you trudged your body out of the guest room.
As soon as you stepped foot into the gathering space, a tiny firework was popped in your face, colorful confetti flying from it into the air and scattering itself in your hair. You shrieked, naturally. There were some cheers and whooping from those in the room: Steve, Natasha, and Pepper. Your heart was pounding in response.
“Hey kid! Congrats! I got some news for you.” Tony beamed widely, slapping both hands firmly on your shoulders, “What is that, whiskey? Do I smell whiskey? Good shit, too. What is that? You drinkin’ Yamazaki?”
You cleared your throat and pressed your lips together firmly, hoping Tony would get the message, eye catching Natasha’s cat-like grin in the process. He clucked his tongue before pointing to the wall to your left where an e-mail was being projected. You briefly glanced it over as the room watched on, flicking bits of neon plastic from your head.
The e-mail thread was between Tony and Kristopher Byrne, the former director of the Museum of Modern Art, singing your praises. Your eyebrows raised higher and higher the further down the e-mail chain you went, and eventually it felt like they might fly off your face altogether. Byrne was pushing meeting you, possibly having a dinner together, possibly a position of employment with a local university or being a permanent fixture at one of his private galleries.
There was a choking noise you were vaguely aware of coming out of your mouth- and it wasn’t from excitement.
There was a reason you didn’t pursue a higher degree in the Fine Arts. There was a reason you only gave phone interviews, hardly showed your face, never entered your work in museums, and ran all over the world instead. You hated the attention and the culture of rubbing elbows with the upper crust. Yes, having a secure and stable income is nice- but that was already fulfilled by being employed by Stark Industries, and you never really needed more than that.
“I really appreciate it, Tony,” you began gesturing to the screen, hoping to not offend him, “But you don’t have to do this on my behalf.”
Tony put a hand over the ACDC logo and dimly glowing light on his chest, “I love nepotism as much as the next guy, trust me, but I did not schmooze him, he schmoozed me. He schmoozed me a lot, kid, and it was to get to you. He’s been asking about you for years.”
“Can you stop saying schmooze?” Pepper called, raising her hand primly, “You make it sound so gross, Tony.”
“Look, he just wants to have dinner. With you. And some friends.” Tony shrugged, as if the lift of his shoulder could so easily discard the rest of the statement hanging in the air. You knew that Kristopher Byrne did not just want to have dinner.
“What kind of dinner?” Bucky piped from the background. You turned your head to him, lingering in the back; he must have just come in after a shower. His wet hair was tied into a low knot at the nape of his neck, a few strands hanging loosely. You tried to hide a smile at his protective questioning.
“And what kind of friends?” Steve added, arms now crossed as he sat down on the couch.
Natasha gave a knowing look to Pepper as if to communicate that Tony couldn’t hide his agenda with both Bucky and Steve at his heels. Throwing his hands up he rolled his eyes with a histrionic lament, “Wow. You overprotective geriatrics really suck the fun out of my life, you know that? Great. Cover’s blown, F.R.I.D.A.Y.! Give me the real deal.”
The projection against the wall was hastily replaced with a different e-mail chain, one that very specifically requested a formal show of your most recent work post-travels, as well as a special request for never-before-seen Avengers portraits. You released a loud, disappointed groan, taking two big steps to the wall and jabbing your finger at the mass of text.
“This is why.” You ran your pointer under the phrase “black tie event” and shook your head. “This isn’t my life, Tony. It’s your life.”
“Yeah, I thought you’d say that.” You felt set up. His abruptly somber tone meant that he was about to drop some shit on you that would change your perspective.
“This is my life,” Tony began, pausing for effect before taking two fingers and waving it broadly over the room, making sure to catch Bucky and Steve in his radius. “And it’s their life, too. You think Cap’s not obligated to formal events? He’s a national treasure, kid. And Winter Dead-Eyes over there is America’s new Redemption Sob Story.”
Bucky growled, but was quickly silenced by the outline of Steve’s turning profile.
“You’re Bound to them; you can’t wander the world at your whim anymore. This is a golden opportunity dropping into your lap. One black-tie event with Byrne gets your foot in a lot of doors. He’ll make you a permanent faculty member at Tisch in two years if that’s what you want; you’ve got the clout- whether you like it or not.”
The whiskey was making you a little agitated, and it felt like Tony was cornering you into a pocket you weren’t ready to face. These types of decisions required time and deliberation, and twenty minutes ago, you were barely choosing when you were going to have sex in the next week.  
“And if you’re so adamant against nepotism, how do feel being employed by me?”
“Are you saying you continue to employ me because we’re friends?”
“Aren’t we?”
He really did corner you. If you answered no, it would have been too cruel to everyone. If you answered yes, then you’d be a hypocrite, and there would obviously be no reason for you not to take the offer other than the fact that you didn’t want to. Regardless, Tony had a valid point: you couldn’t keep floating. You needed to settle permanently in New York.
You put your face in both hands, feeling the heat rise from your neck.  
Steve stood up from the couch, “That’s enough.” The edge in his voice meant he was serious. He didn’t like seeing you distressed, but you waved him off, eyes still closed.
“I’ll need… time.” You thought your voice might shake, but it didn’t. Your brain was pumping out information that your mouth was glad to blather about, “I need at least a month. I need to work. I need to set up a studio space, I need equipment, need to find my printing guy… Where are we hanging them?” When your eyes opened, Pepper had her hands clasped together over her chest and Natasha gave you two thumbs up. Steve and Bucky, on the other hand, looked concerned.
Tony was grinning like a child in a candy store.
“Leave all of that to me, kid. Date’s set. Last Saturday in June, we’re doing it. Mazel tov! I love a good black-tie event, especially if I’m throwing it.”
You went home that night and slammed yourself into bed, tossing and turning for what seemed like hours. Your stomach was churning wrathfully, already expectant of the party. Everything felt like it was falling apart again. You had just barely come to the physical terms of having soulmates, taking small steps to ensure that you were treating them fairly and meeting their needs, yet it seemed like once again, the reality of being Bound was eclipsing your independence.
Steve’s words echoed in your head. It was a commitment. You needed to stay in New York and commit to him. You needed to commit to Bucky.
You picked up the phone when it vibrated and lit up with Steve’s face. A concerned murmur of your name passed through the receiver.
“Hey,” You replied, face pressed into your pillow.
“You okay? You left in a hurry.” He sounded relieved to hear your voice.
“I’ve got a lot on mind, I think.”
In the background was Bucky’s distinct mumble of “What’s she doin’?”
“Did ya get that?” Steve laughed, “Buck’s on edge.”
You shuffled yourself around the bed and snuggled deeper down, imagining the crinkle on Bucky’s forehead and matching crease of Steve’s eyes as he smiled. You suddenly missed them. There was something about the image of them sitting together purposely, talking to you, concerned about you, that opened the floodgates.
You let go.
Steve listened generously as you expressed your hesitations about presenting your work to Kristopher Byrne or any other elite art critic or connoisseur. The thing you dreaded most about art school was the jargon of “artspeak”, the constant performance of socializing with the right people in the right way to get an opportunity. After your solo exhibit of the Soulmate Series, you were so exhausted and disenchanted by the questions and feeling the need to defend yourself that you refused to enter any more exhibitions. It was why you chose to travel instead of pursuing a Masters or making your mark in New York.
Interviews were strictly phone-only for independent magazines or social media websites and you never showed your face. You didn’t want any attention that was not on your work, which was why you were so glad that Pepper was not only a great resume opportunity, but that she was extremely professional. The photos you took of the Avengers were posted for the public relations needs and you were credited only by name.  
“I just want to be a photographer,” you said, “I want to make images and talk about them in way that is digestible for ordinary people. I think photo is a great medium for that because it is so commonplace. Why is necessary to then jumble it all up with pretentious terminology? I want to take photos that are meaningful but even your grandmother could enjoy.”
Steve laughed.
“Okay, maybe not yours, specifically,” You chucked, “But you know what I mean. Photography is ubiquitous, I just so happen to have had also an education and know the theory and mechanics. And I’m lucky enough to work with you guys. But I’m not them. I don’t want to sell a picture for thirty-thousand dollars and have it put up in some guy’s house and never shown again.”
“Give ‘em hell!” Bucky’s voice rang in the background. You were surprised he was still there, listening. It made you happy that he was.
Steve paused, “I think you can do both.”
You sighed. He didn’t understand.
“No, no, listen to me. You can fight it, but you’ll need to be a part of it. You can’t change anything about the system if you’re running from the system. As much as you hate elitist jargon, you know it, and you can participate in it.”
Your brow furrowed, but Steve went on, “Get the faculty position, exhibit in galleries, gain that platform and then you make changes on that platform. Even if you just teach- imagine having 100 students a year that you can pass this to. What were the students like in your college classes?”
“Uppity.” You admitted. “We took such dumb photos and then would critique them in such meaningless ways. Sometimes a sink is just a sink. Sometimes it’s not, but when it is, it really is."
Steve laughed again; the example was lost on him. “Okay. Now what if your professors felt the same way you did?”
“We’d probably hate each other less and experiment more without second guessing ourselves.”
“Don’t you think you want to do that for other students, sweetheart? Even if it means that you’re in the thick of it yourself?” A smile was slowly forming on your face. It only made sense that Steve Rogers was such a revolutionary. It really was such good advice.
“Buck’s right, sweetheart. Go give ‘em hell.” In the background was a satisfied huff and a “Damn right!” for good measure.
“Anything else on your mind?” Steve quietly asked after a moment had passed between you, as if he’d forgotten his friend in the room, highly alert and intently listening, “Anything ‘bout us?”
You breathed a deep sigh, careful not to blow into the phone as you thought about your next words carefully. The anxieties for the show colluded with your anxieties for your future here. Steve knew that; he was only asking to be polite. “Mmm… It’ll keep me close,” You murmured, “That’s good, right?”
“I can’t decide that for you, sweetheart. That’s up to you.” There was a pause, the sound of something hitting the wall softly like a pillow, some fuzzy scratches telling you the phone was moving around, and Bucky with an irritated reprimand: “Wrong answer, punk!”
You laughed mirthfully, feeling your worries rolling off your body as you listened to Steve and Bucky quarrelling on the other end. It felt so natural that you couldn’t help but think maybe this was another good step in the right direction.
More and more each day you could imagine yourself having morning coffee with Steve, watching a movie with Bucky, cooking together, eating dinner, working side by side at the compound. Maybe you didn’t have to settle for brief fifteen-minute walks in the park, and maybe one day Bucky could talk to you about his demons. The three of you could exist together, as you were intended to.
At 23, you made up your mind to stay in New York with Steve and Bucky.
Next Chapter
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lesbianrobin · a year ago
i’m stupid so forgive any dumb shit but takeaways from rewatching s2 e3-e5:
the party literally stalk max, invite her to trick-or-treat with them, then treat her like shit and lock her out of the av room and literally make her dig through garbage and she STILL wants to be friends with them until they lock her out of the av room a second time and THAT’S where she draws the line. god she’s an icon.
i’d like to give props to sadie sink for a moment because she’s AMAZING! she came into an established cast as the outsider and did so well establishing herself that when i was rewatching s1, things just felt wrong without her there. she plays max with so much depth! you can tell that while she plays tough, she’s desperate to make friends and be liked. you can see her fear of billy without it being over-the-top. max has such a distinctive personality, even when she’s not speaking or doing much of anything, and it’s awesome. also she sits like a lesbian.
jonathan is literally gay i’m sorry but jesus fucking CHRIST every time that someone thinks he and nancy are together he physically moves away from her and is like “uh we’re NOT together” also he’s very afraid of the yonic “gate” not saying anything just saying!
that’s a genuine issue with j*ncy, by the way. the goal is for the audience to believe they both have strong feelings for each other that they’ve been suppressing ever since s1, but it... just doesn’t make much sense. jonathan’s near-constant discomfort around nancy doesn’t read as a crush to me, it reads like someone who doesn’t want to be in the situation that they’re in. nancy waited around for a month and when jonathan didn’t ask her out because he was, yknow, a little busy taking care of his destroyed house and nearly-dead little brother, she never went to talk to him, she just decided to date steve as a backup instead. the two of them never talk unless it’s all plot, which nancy even points out! she asks why they only hang out when the world is about to end (which doesn’t make any sense, considering that at this point she and jonathan don’t know anything about dart or the tunnels and are just trying to get justice for barb and will, AND doesn’t make sense because they’re shown hanging out at school when nancy asks him to go to the halloween party. is that supposed to be the first time they’ve talked since s1, or something?). she asks what happened to them, and jonathan reminds her that it was... kind of her decision to date steve.
this is my biggest issue with j*ncy. it doesn’t make sense! there was absolutely nothing stopping nancy, at any time, from hanging out with jonathan, from dumping steve, or from asking jonathan to go out. after the halloween party, when she confronts steve outside the gym and steve is like “oh really you didn’t mean it? then tell me you love me,” she acts like he’s being ridiculous for thinking she doesn’t love him, but then just a day later, she’s flirting with jonathan, asking what happened to them, and being like “i waited :(” it’s so weird!! nancy actively wanted to date jonathan the entire time she and steve were together, she knew jonathan liked her, so... why the fuck did any of this happen? it isn’t like she and steve were together and then she developed feelings for jonathan. she was broken up with steve and chose to get back together with him because she was impatient with jonathan.
i just don’t understand why they chose to write it like that!! they could have made it so that steve and nancy never broke up in the first place/got back together immediately after fighting the monster in s1, so it would make sense that she stayed with him out of a kind of guilt or obligation since he saved her and jonathan’s lives. they could have made it so that nancy made a move during that month and jonathan did something that she interpreted as a rejection because he was going through a lot at the time, so she figured he didn’t like her back and thus started dating steve again. they could have just let the two of them have a normal conversation and SHOWN them liking each other and enjoying each other’s company. instead, they had nancy flirt with jonathan, tell him that she was only dating her boyfriend as a replacement since he didn’t ask her out fast enough, and then they had her get angry when he reminded her that she still had a boyfriend. it makes nancy look like a terrible person and for what? what purpose does the whole thing serve besides breaking steve’s heart in the meanest way possible?
okay sorry back to observations
becky ives is very hot. so is the librarian at hawkins middle. i think they should kiss.
becky ives is also a better parental figure to el than anybody else in this entire goddamn show and she does it in like two seconds flat! why did el move away with joyce instead of staying with her aunt? becky’s incredibly kind to her, loves her, and she even has a room there just waiting for her. what the fuck happened???
terry ives was a bad bitch she literally broke into the lab and killed a man to see her baby... her story is so incredibly sad.
speaking of parental figures, dustin is clearly the more mature member of his household and i’m so fucking happy that he and steve found each other. dustin’s dad isn’t in the picture and his mom is... a lot. when mews “went missing,” he seemed very practiced at comforting her, bringing her in for a hug and sending her off by blowing a kiss, and it’s sweet and kind of funny, but more than that, it indicates that dustin is used to being the one comforting his mother, not the other way around. i’d really like to learn a bit more about his home life in s4.
aaand on the topic of parenting... look. we’ve all been saying that hopper was out of character and overly angry and rude in s3. but uh... he’s genuinely much worse in s2. i think s3 WAS an improvement for him. he loves el, yes, and he tries to be a good dad, but he has some serious anger issues, and he’s incredibly mean to her when she runs away for the day. he literally threatens to send her back to the lab, calls her a brat, essentially calls her stupid since she “can’t even follow three rules,” breaks the tv that is her only connection to the outside world, screams a lot, and stomps around and pounds pretty threateningly on walls, etc. we all know he’d never hurt el, obviously, and she could snap his neck if she wanted, he’s not abusive. what he IS is a man with a lot of unresolved trauma and emotional issues who’s used to living on his own and doesn’t know how to handle el’s trauma and her fragile emotional state as a result of being denied freedom and socialization. 
joyce means well but she is SUCH a mess... like. okay i really do not want to be crucified for this but. sometimes. joyce is not the world’s greatest mom. she’s a good person! she loves her kids and accepts them and believes in them which makes her a Good Mom!! she just also forgets that jonathan is her son and when will is first getting possessed, she handles it pretty roughly. i need to stress that i think she’s an amazing person and a good mother, she just has flaws!!! and i think it’s great!!! it’s so refreshing to see a character in media who’s a mother who’s allowed to make mistakes and be human!! i just hope that in the future, they circle back around to the ways that she’s neglected jonathan for will’s sake and address it, because i think it’s one of the most unique and interesting aspects of the show, and winona is so talented and i know that she can do a lot with joyce that i’d like to see.
bob is just an angel that’s all... when he and joyce rescue hopper in the tunnels:
“hey bob” 
“hey jim”
peak comedy! 
also i LOVED that whole sequence with joyce, mike, will, and bob figuring out that the drawings are a map of hawkins and tracking down where hopper is!! it was really cool and it was such a fun way to really utilize space, make the set an essential part of the scene, and give the actors a lot to work with physically, while developing the plot and just being plain fun.
also i will have to give the h*rringroves ONE thing... there is truly no explanation for why the fuck billy chose to shower next to steve and lean in super close to him while they were both naked and call him pretty boy. what the fuck was that??? is that what the duffers think bullying is???? i genuinely think one or both of them might be gay and just repressing it or something because... what the fuck?
billy is just... so weird. some of y’all are going to hate me for saying this but i think dacre really overacted him at times and he’s just a parody of himself. obviously this isn’t just on dacre, it’s a combination of writing and acting and direction, but... still. 
i should never try to write about three episodes at once ever again this post is an abomination and i’m not even done
lucas is sweet but god is he fucking stupid. he literally thought that he hadn’t done anything when they had been locking max out of AV club and lying to her and making her dig through trash and shit... bro. use your noggin i know you’ve got it i know it’s in there somewhere
also when he ninja-kicked that door in looking for dart that was so cute i love him
i’m gonna run down my steve thoughts then end this stupid long post
he’s SO bitchy to nancy when she goes to talk to him after the halloween party!!! it’s funny but it’s also really sad, because you can tell that he’s... really hurt about what happened. after he asks her to say that she loves him and he can’t, when he walks away, he says “i think YOU’RE bullshit,” which... ouch. i still don’t think that really counts as a breakup, especially considering that later on when nancy and jonathan are talking about what happened at the party, jonathan emphasizes that steve was upset and nancy seems like she’s trying to genuinely understand what happened with the intent of fixing it (another reason why the later j*ncy development doesn’t make sense to me).
he goes to apologize with flowers, even though he knows that nancy was the one who hurt his feelings in the first place. when dustin shows up and grabs his flowers and gets in the car, steve immediately goes along with it and doesn’t seem remotely annoyed or angry, just confused about what’s going on. it’s really sweet... a cultural reset, if you will.
final comment... i think that overall s2 is really good, but it’s not flawless. no season of the show is. that’s why i love it! if stranger things was a perfect show, we wouldn’t write so much meta, we wouldn’t have as many fics, and it wouldn’t be as fun. nothing is ever perfect, and we can all debate which seasons are bad, where things “went wrong,” etc, but i think that some of us have a habit of seeing s1 and s2 through rose-colored glasses and ignoring that all three seasons have their good and bad aspects. 
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flourish--and--blotts · a year ago
Mini-Fic 8
part 8 / god knows how many Draco Malfoy x (probably Hufflepuff) Reader warnings: language words: 1687 - 7380 so far part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 last | next
You sat down to breakfast feeling triumphant in your conviction. You are going to talk to Malfoy, you are going to get some answers, and today will be the day to do it. But until then… breakfast. The tables before you filled with food, and though this happens quite literally every morning, you were especially delighted today. The Great Hall was full of boisterous chatter and the many clinks and clunks of dishes versus silverware. It was a most wonderful commotion, within which you settled into good conversations with good friends. All the while, though, keeping a wayward eye on the Slytherin table. You would need to catch him alone if you could. 
The minutes passed and you watched the day begin as people left, books clutched to their chest for yet another day of study and work. Others were clearly prepared to enjoy the final day of the weekend, having loosened their ties and put on winter clothes. Draco’s crew got up to leave, though he stayed behind rather conveniently. It wasn’t long before your own friends decided to leave, and you followed. But not for long.  You put on your best innocent face and lied, “Oh, I think I forgot a book. I’ll catch you guys later.”  After being your friend for ages, Olive and Anemone did not think it at all odd for you to forget something and so accepted the fib readily. You doubled back to the Great Hall, but before you could get there, someone grabbed you by the arm, nearly running into you. It was, to your surprise, Draco Malfoy himself.  He leant down and murmured, “We need to talk.”  You responded in kind, whispering, “Good, because I need to talk to you, too.”  His hand was still on your left arm, clutched so tight that it was beginning to hurt. The look in his eyes was fierce and it made you want to take quite a few steps back.  “Library. 10 o’clock.” He released you and disappeared down the hall, leaving no opportunity to respond. Addled, but undaunted, you checked your watch while walking back to the Hufflepuff dorms. You had half an hour until your meeting. 
You spent some of that half-hour coming up with a good excuse for your friends, who did not seem at all convinced. Then you went on to the courtyard to collect your thoughts. It was, for the most part, deserted, due to winter’s reign newly cast upon the castle. Most people were spending a lovely Sunday morning keeping warm by a crackling fire or playing in the snow outside, but not in the enclosed courtyard, which contained room only for pathways between corridors, and a few trees and benches. So this was where you sat, observing the subtle beauty of a scene enrobed in white. The spindly arms of a tree, once so green, were now simply trestles supporting the soft weight of snowflakes. The landscape was so clearly in service to the season, facilitating its delicate charms and whimsy. It is so serene and still, the frosted-over, the cold-hearted. Winter at its finest is both hauntingly powerful and immensely beautiful. And thus you felt prepared for your meeting with Draco, himself coming from a world of coldness and stony silence. 
You felt the return of warmth biting at your cheeks and fingertips as you entered the library. A cursory glance at the tables proved fruitless. Many were filled, but none by him. It was best, anyways, to find somewhere more secluded. And while looking for such a spot, you found Draco himself, sitting alone in an empty corner, turning the pages of an old book much too fast to actually be reading it. He looked up as you approached, and motioned to the chair across from him. You obliged, settling into the seat with some discomfort under his judgmental gaze, placing your hands in your lap and sitting up straight against the back of the chair. Draco, by contrast, looked entirely comfortable with confrontation, with his hands clasped and elbows resting casually on the table between you. Regardless of your deliberation before coming here, his ease unnerved you.  “I have questions,” he began.  “So do I.”  He looked away, allowing a moment of silence to pass before continuing, “What do you think of me?”  “Oh boy…” you whispered, and leaned back further, if at all possible, to contemplate. “I think that you are… complicated.”  He was, somehow, entirely poker-faced, “So’s everyone.”  “Well... I thought you were a bully, unrelenting, sadistic, and needlessly.. mean. But now I don’t know.”  “Hm.”  He started asking something else, but you interrupted, “My turn. What were you doing downstairs during dinner on Friday?”  “I believe I already answered this.” His words were accompanied by a glare.  “That was hardly an answer, ‘Maybe I was’, now I just have more questions!” you blushed slightly, realizing how loud you had gotten, and so lowered your voice, “First off, why? Why were you there? Why did you stop? Why did you give me that look? Why have you been entirely mum for the past week? And what do your weird glances mean?”  He put his arms down and crossed them on the table.  “I was there to talk. To you.”  He squirmed a little and you could tell that you were getting somewhere.  “What about? Why?”  “I’m sorry, okay?! I actually, genuinely, feel bad about tripping you on the stairs!”  “Come again?” His eyes flared with something, irritation or anger. Or perhaps something else: defensiveness, shame.  “You’re not the only one who’s surprised!”  So that’s it, he was sorry.  He explained further, “When you fell, I did find it funny. I saw the look of ‘Oh shit, I’m falling’ dawn on your face and I found it hysterical. I got high-fives as we walked past and they felt well-deserved. I honestly didn’t expect you, of all people, to get that angry about it.”  He paused for a while here, and you felt that sympathy begin seeping in once again.  “People insult my parents all the time. And I thought they were wrong. It made me feel pride when they were wrong. Pride for knowing the truth and for being right. My responses always came from a place of anger and protection. But then, you- you weren’t wrong. And I didn’t feel angry or protective.” He paused again, before continuing quieter, “I said that I could make your life a living hell, and you said ‘as if you don’t already.’ I didn’t realize what you had said until a few seconds later and then suddenly I felt bad. I didn’t know why, but I just couldn’t look at the odd way you held your leg and the contempt on your face and so I turned and left.”  Realizing that what you said had hurt him, you suddenly didn’t feel so good about it anymore, “I- I didn’t know what I was saying. I don’t know your parents. I don’t know your family.”  “So what?” he was completely unfazed.  “But I didn’t- I don’t- I was just reading between the lines.”  “And you were right.”  “I was..” it was half statement, half question.   There was loathing in his eyes, but it wasn’t for you.  “To the world, I am Lucius Malfoy’s perfect son. A Slytherin, a leader, who shares his opinions on everything and represents him perfectly, his spitting image. But you should hear what he says when people aren’t listening.”  He seemed to want to stop talking after that, looking incredibly tense and scornful.  It dawned on you why he had felt remorse all of a sudden, “So you realized that you were becoming just like him, but also that you didn’t want to be.” In response, his expression became melancholic. “You realized that what he makes you feel is what you make other people feel.”  His next words were barely above a whisper, “Yes. Exactly.”  There was a long, long stretch of silence, tired, sad silence, before he spoke again.  “(y/n)?”  “Yes?”  “What do you think of me?”  His question made perfect sense now. “You aren’t like him. That fact that you’re this conflicted proves that. But I think that you don’t know yourself, and how can I tell you who you are if you don’t know?”  He leaned back and slumped down in his chair, the emotional effort of this conversation having made him physically tired. He also seemed to be lost in his head, thinking but being unable to process. A few beats passed, and then a few more. You stood up and started walking away, but paused next to him for a moment, not knowing what to say. Then as that moment ended and you started to leave, his hand caught your arm and you turned back immediately.  He met your eyes and locked onto them before uttering, “I’m sorry.”  You reached for his hand and held it. Part of you felt satisfaction for his sorrow, that he was finally beginning to understand the effects of what he had done, what he had been doing for years. Another part of you pushed that away, reminding you that revenge, though sweet, is simply fighting fire with fire. You could see how thankful he was, and how honest, and meeting that with hate would do harm, not good.  “Thank you.” You smiled and held his hand tighter, which he responded to by holding on tighter as well before letting go.  That conversation should have left you contemplating, analyzing, but your mind was curiously blank. It was hard to focus on what he had done because that wasn’t who he was. Instead, you found yourself wanting to talk with him more and get to know him better. You couldn’t dread the next time you passed him in the halls or caught his eye, you could only feel anticipation.  But that feeling sank and your stomach twisted when you reached the library’s doors only to find Olive and Anemone bursting with expressions of triumph.  Olive spoke first, “You just met with Draco Malfoy-” “What? No! Of course I didn’t.”  “-and we would like to know why.” 
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harrystyltistical · 2 years ago
Tumblr media
Word count:3k
Warnings: Spanking, hair pulling, harsh language and adult content
A/N: Breaking news! Rin finally got done writing before 12 o’clock. Like and rb if you enjoyed
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The sound of your knuckles bumping against the wood of Harry’s door sounded throughout the empty hallway of the apartment building. It was late, almost 3AM, so you aren’t surprised when you were the only one treading the hallways.
 It was another lonely night that ended in another late text to Harry asking if you could come over. Of course he said yes, informing you that Mitch would be out, and he’d be waiting. 
 This was only your third or fourth time hooking up and you still would find it awkward to text your best friend for a late night booty call and would always mask the question with small talk. Harry, however, never hesitated to say what he wants. There were multiple occasions where he would you texts, or should I say sexts, while you were in public or with family and you couldn’t help the subtle shade of pink that would arise on your cheeks when you read about what he wanted to do to you.
 While at first the sex was a little awkward, as you still saw him as your best friend, after the second time it got a lot easier and you were glad you could continue your friendship with Harry without any discomfort. 
 The door flung open to reveal a shirtless Harry standing in the doorway, gray sweatpants riding low on his hips and a cheeky smile adorning his face. 
 “Fancy.” You joked, referring to his clothes. Harry scrunched his nose in response and leaned down to place a slow kiss to your lips, his hand coming up to lightly hold your jaw. You smiled into the kiss, tangling your fingers into his hair as you backed him into his apartment, shutting the door behind you with your foot. 
 Harry’s lips moved from your lips to the corner of your mouth, making their way down your jawline and peppering kisses down your neck. 
 “Been awhile.” 
 “Hm, I know. S’why I texted, I missed you.” You say, wrapping your arms around his neck and staring up at him. 
 “You aren’t going soft on me, are you, angel?” 
 “Oh, never,” You say in a faux serious tone, tilting your head “just wanted to see you before you left for tour s’all.” Harry nodded, mumbling a quiet “oh” as he stared down at you. 
 “Well,” Harry says, moving a piece of hair behind your ear “i’ve got a going away present for you.” He continued, grabbing your hand and leading you to the couch. He reached beside the couch and pulled out a large box wrapped in matte red wrapping paper, with a red satin bow tied around it. You hesitated before he motioned for you to take it from his hands, to which you kindly obliged and untied the bow. 
 When you unwrapped it you were left with a velvet black box. You lifted the box to your ear, noting the weight as you shook it to guess what was inside, hearing something heavy roll around as you did so.
 “Open it.” He encouraged, putting a gentle hand on your knee. You glanced over at him before removing the top to reveal a pink, girthy, at least seven-inches long, dildo. The sight made your cheeks flush, your face suddenly becoming very warm as you awkwardly gulped. 
 “Jus’ in case you were thinking about going out and finding someone else to fuck you while I’m on tour.”
 “You’re the one who doesn’t want to make it official, which means I’m allowed to do whatever I want with whoever I want. If you have such a big problem with it, maybe you should ask me out.”
 “I know, love, m’selfish, I told you. Nobody else gets to have you like I do, but honestly, with the way you’re looking tonigh’ you’ve got me wondering how bad it would be to just… let myself fall head over heels for you.” You blushed as the words left Harry’s mouth, he always knew the right thing to say.
 Your eyes trailed back down to the gift, your hands softly running over the surface of the box until it met the plastic of the dildo. You wrapped your fingers around it, pulling it out of the box it was encased in and standing it up, holding it in place at the tip with your hand. 
 “Why don’t you give it a go while I’m here, eh?” Harry pipes up after a few seconds of you staring at the dildo in silence. “I’m not sure— Uhm, I don’t know if I can.” 
 “Wha’ do you mean? Of course you can, don’t be ridiculous.” Harry says, rubbing your thigh slowly as he watched you nervously look from him to the dildo. 
 “I can’t right now, though. I’m not...” You say, trailing off as if the word “wet” could make this situation any dirtier than it already was. Harry nodded and licked his lips, moving you onto his lap so you’re facing him and setting the dildo next to you. 
 “Then we’ll put tha’ to the side for now. How about you tell me what you’d like me to do to you, hm?”
 “I-i don’t know.”
 “Cmon, when I’m away on tour you’re gonna have to use that dirty little mind of yours to come up with something to get yourself off. Have you ever masturbated to the thought of me before, angel?” You nodded “What did you think about?”
 The blush on your cheeks must’ve gone from subtle pink to firetruck red. Usually you weren’t so nervous around Harry, and you’d like to think that in other circumstances you would be driving him crazy by now, but these weren’t other circumstances. He’d somehow made you embarrassed, nervous and quiet, all without trying in the slightest. 
 “Wha’? Are you embarrassed to tell me, love? S’alright, won’ judge, jus’ wanna hear wha’ you get up to in that pretty little mind of yours.” Your eyes nervously met his, picking at the skin on your lip an obvious nervous tick as Harry gave you an encouraging nod.
 “I think… of you touching me and kissing me and-” You paused, your mind reeling over all your dirtiest fantasies, too embarrassed to tell him the truth. Harry used his thumb and index finger to lightly grab your chin, tilting it down so you were making direct eye contact.
 “If you lie to me one more time, you aren’t cumming tonigh’. So, tell me again, wha’ do you think about when you touch yourself?” 
 “I think of you pinning me down and fucking me, or holding down my hips while you eat me out so you have full control. I think of you bending me over your legs and spanking me til’ my ass is red and shoving your dick down my throat, but usually I fantasize about you fucking me in the living room and Mitch walking in on us.” You admit sheepishly, taking a small breath and trying not to smile at his reaction. You could feel Harry’s growing bulge pressing lightly into your thigh as you avoided eye contact. 
 “Dirty little whore, aren’t you? Wanna eat m’dick hm? Get spanked and pinned and fucked, totally dominated, like a good little slut, and as if that wasn’t nasty enough you wan’ Mitch to walk in us, so he can see how good you can be for me. Such a good little slut, and you want everyone to know about it don’t you?” You nodded in response, too much pressure in your chest to respond as Harry shoved his hand into your underwear, sticking a few fingers inside your warm, soaking core before pulling them out massaging the wetness between his fingers. He then tapped your thigh, signaling for you stand up on your knees and pulled your pants and underwear down your thighs. He carelessly discards them to the side, positioning the dildo under you and between his legs. 
 “Go ahead, sink down on it for me.” He says, holding you by the hips as you slowly sunk yourself onto it, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you did. The dildo reminded you so much of Harry, stretching you in the most delicious way as it reached far into you. 
 This wasn’t your first time using a sex toy, you had a vibrator at home, but you never used a dildo before now. It was a little more work, seeing as there obviously wasn’t anyone to buck up into you, but it definitely did the trick. 
 You reached down to play with your clit, knowing that Harry’s eyes are on you while he stroked his hard dick at the sight only turned you on more, if that was even possible. A groan tumbled past your lips as you sunk all the way onto it for the first time, grinding your hips slowly against it. You looked stunning as ever, in Harry’s opinion, eyes shut softly with your mouth hanging open in a perfect ‘O’ shape as you got used to the feeling. 
 You started slowly, finding a pattern you liked before speeding up, the dildo now soaked in your juices sliding effortlessly in and out of you. Harry left it all up to you, despite the fact that he was underneath enjoying the view as you fucked yourself with the phallic instrument. He watched as you bounced up on and down, riding it like you would him, throwing your head back in pleasure and desperately digging your nails into his arm as you did so. 
 You sped up once again, the feeling of it sliding in and out of you becoming more and more delicious by the second, the pressure in your stomach building rapidly every time you’d take all of it. Your hand left your clit to balance yourself on Harry’s shoulder, your other hand reaching underneath and wrapping around the dildo, using your hand to fuck yourself with it when your legs became too tired. 
 The air you breathed felt like it was building in your chest as you got closer and closer to the edge, your toes curled and you threw your head back as you came around the dildo. Harry was quick to comfort you as you came down from your high, pulling you close and rubbing your back soothingly as he left short kisses on your cheek. 
 Your heart beat is quick in your chest and your breaths are heavy and deep as you came down, your eyes slowly fluttering open to see Harry smirking down at you.
 “Did so good fo’ me, petal. Would you like to keep going?” He asked, you paused for a second before giving him a slow nod, sitting up straight in his lap and standing on your knees so he could remove the dildo from underneath you. Harry placed a soft peck to your lips, checking if you were sure before continuing. 
 “Quick question, angel, did I say you could cum?” He raised his eyebrow at you “Because, I don’t remember saying you could, but I know tha’ you know the rules so it must’ve just slipped my mind, yeah?” 
 You stared up at him through your eyelashes, shaking your head as you nervously bit your lip. You’d been so caught up in the moment you completely forgot to ask, and you knew what was in store for you when you broke one of Harry’s rules; An ass so red you wouldn’t be able to stand for a week, and that’s if you were lucky.
 “No?” You confirmed his question with another shake of your head, although you knew it was rhetorical “That’s naughty of you.”
 “I didn’t mean to be naughty, I forgot.” Harry shrugged at your response, motioning for you to lay out across his lap. You obliged, burying your face into the couch while you waited.
 “Ah, ah ah, you’ll be cleaning daddy’s gift while you get your punishment. You’ll be getting fifteen, and I don’t want to hear any whining.” Harry said, placing the pink dildo in front of you and watching as you took the tip into your warm mouth. Your tongue is coated in your own juices when you felt a harsh smack! come down on your ass. You jumped at the sudden pain, the sting of your ass working with the erotic situation to make you even wetter.
 Seeing as there is an artificial dick in your mouth, you can’t exactly count, so, as much as Harry loved hearing you choke out the number of times his hand had come down on your ass, sure to leave a mark by the end of the night, he let it slide. 
 By the time he counted fifteen he wasn’t sure whether the tears streaming down your face were from the spankings or from gagging on the huge dick placed in front of you. Harry reached over to swipe a few stray tears away before giving another harsh smack to your already stinging ass. 
 “You already did fifteen.” You say, pulling off the dildo and wiping the spit from your mouth as you turned to look at Harry. 
 “I forgot.” He said, mocking your answer with a raised eyebrow before flipping you back so your face was once again buried in the couch, leaving you to lift your head and continue cleaning the dildo with your tongue. Three consecutive smacks came down on your ass before Harry pulled you to sit up by your hair. He kisses you roughly before laying you down on the couch, your aching red ass making contact with the suede. 
 You let your tired body sink into the sofa, although your ass was stinging at the feeling. Harry was quick to crawl on top of you, sliding his pants down his thighs and discarding them on the coffee table as he bit and sucked at your neck. The feeling of his warm breath fanning out against your neck sent a shiver down your spine, Harry’s lips coming up to connect with yours in a rough, but slow kiss.
 “Want you to feel every inch of me, petal.” He said, lining himself up with your entrance before slowly pushing his tip in. A deep, muffled groan tumbled past his lips and into your ear as he continued to push the rest of himself into your slowly, stretching your already sensitive pussy. 
 The feeling of him completely inside you was 10x better than the dildo, filling you up just right as he buried his face into your neck. He started slowly, taking a little more out each time, holding you close and taking his time. You could feel everything as he slowly pushed himself in and out, finger tangling themselves into your hair while his lips worked at your neck.
 It wasn’t until you began pushing your hips back into his that he sped up, eager to make you come again and again. He reached behind himself to grab your legs and put them on his shoulders, fucking you faster and deeper than before. You knew you wouldn’t last long the second his hand came down to play with your clit, working you up more and more with each thrust. 
 You could barely catch a breath as your legs shook and your eyes squeezed shut. The pressure he’s applying to your clit quickly becoming all too much as moans continuously and involuntarily rolled past your tongue.
 “Don’t cum, and that’s a demand.” Harry said, the way you’re shaking beneath him an obvious tell that you’re close, nipping at your earlobe so you knew he was serious. His hips sped up, the sound of skin slapping against skin sounding throughout the living room as he fucked into you with all he had. 
 You continued to hold off your orgasm, one punishment being more than enough for the night. Harry pulled at your hair as he got closer, his thrusts becoming uneven and sloppy as he approached his high. 
 “Cum with me.” He groaned into your ear, shooting hot ropes of cum deep inside you as your walls fluttered and you came around him. Your orgasm racked through your body, a squeal involuntarily coming out as waves of pleasure washed over you, Harry still grinding himself into you as you rode out your orgasms together.
 “Can I clean you up?” You asked when he pulled out, his dick soaked in a mixture of your juices and his cum looking too good to pass up. 
 “Of course, princess.” He said, his eyes refusing to lean you as you sunk down to your knees on the floor in front of him on the couch, running your tongue up the length of his cock and swirling it around the tip before deep-throating him. Harry let out a deep groan at the feeling of your tongue swirling around his dick, his eyes rolling into the back of his head when you sucked at the tip. 
 “That’s enough, love, you’re gonna make me hard if you keep going like that” He said, but you ignored him, continuing to suck at the tip, running your tongue along the divot as you lightly stroked him. It didn’t take Harry long to pull you off his dick, glaring down at you with a raised brow.
 “Petal, have you disobeyed me twice?” 
 “Like I said, you don’t control me.” 
 “Then fucking go out with me.” The question shocked you, mostly because you weren’t sure of the authenticity of it, but also because of how out of place it was. You hadn’t even meant it like that, but now that the situation had arose you weren’t sure what to say. 
 “Uhm,” you let out a small laugh “sure.”  
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