#CW: treatment plans

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Multitudes Chapter Fifteen

... And Into the Fire.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov/Steve Rogers

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> Nat is reprimanded, and the process begins again.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 5941

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) CW: Brief mentions of injury and suicide attempt, a lot of talk of weight and BMI, treatment plans, food.

𝐀/𝐍 -> Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Please read the warnings, and proceed with caution. You know the drill. A surprisingly feel-good chapter in the end, though. Corresponds to Magic and Madness - Chapters Two through Four. Start here. Masterlist can be found here. Check it out below, or on AO3 here! The snazzy Black Widow divider comes from @/firefly-graphics and I love it <3 The Multitudes Universe one is our own! The awesome goulash concept came from @captainofalltheships and can be found here - it gave me so much inspiration and I'm endlessly grateful. <3

<- Previous Chapter (14/72) Next Chapter -> (16/72)

My muscles groaned in protest as I was stirred by soft fingertips travelling the length of my arm. “Nat? C’mon, Little Spider. It’s lunchtime, believe it or not.” I grumbled in protest, burying my face in the comforting linen, wreathing myself in the scent of sex and Clint, and eliciting a laugh from the man himself. “You think you have it bad? I’m going to be the talk of the table.”

I looked up sharply, finding my lover in only jeans, his bare torso coated in bruises and crescent wounds, violent red lines and fingerprint impressions.

Dear God, that’s hot.

Honestly? Agreed.

Despite the thrill humming through my body, I flinched guiltily. “Sorry. Are you okay?”

His hand found the bite mark in his shoulder, then the unmistakable, dime-sized clusters at his throat, layered atop the bruises I’d already inflicted in the woods – and he grinned. “Don’t apologise, honey. I am… great.” He extended a hand to me, pulling me into his arms deftly. “Better than great. I- Last night- You… are perfection.” I winced at the slight rasp in his voice, pressing my lips tenderly to his skin, and he shook his head. “Sore from the sounds I made, not your actions.”

“Still,” I muttered, running my palms gently down his chest. “You look… Tender.”

“Delightfully, and proudly, so,” he replied with a grin, his body puffing under my touch. “If I had the choice, I’d go about my day like this.” I quirked an eyebrow in disbelief, and he caught my hands with his.

“This – these marks… Nat, I don’t think you quite understand. I can’t put into words how much I fucking love this. Every single one of these bruises, bites, scrapes and claw marks are a sign of your passion, and your ownership. And damn, do I want to be owned by you.”

I smiled, touched, then turned his wrist to show his tattoo. “This isn’t ownership enough?”

“There’s never enough,” he replied with soft growl, pulling me closer. “You could tattoo your name on my forehead, and it wouldn’t do justice to how very yours I am.”

I blushed then, ducking my head shyly. “Well. You wouldn’t be the first to forego a shirt at the table.”

Clint was practically skipping as he led me down the hall, his fingers laced through mine, jeans riding low on his hips to display as much of his marred flesh as he could. I shook my head fondly, following him through the glass doors with only the slightest hesitation.

Aren’t you worried what people will think? Widow offered uncertainly, and I smiled in appreciation at the bit-back harshness she hadn’t used.

A little, I admitted, glancing at the team as we drew closer, waiting for someone to notice us. But I care far more about making him happy, and this makes him happy. I’m a grown woman, and he’s a grown man – our sex life is nothing to be ashamed of, even if the Red Room taught us differently.

She simply hummed thoughtfully in response, lapsing into considerate silence once more. On cue, Wanda glanced up from her conversation with Vision, and let out a shocked laugh.

“Light exercise - бред сивой кобылы!” (Bullshit!)

I snorted at the expletive, while Vision simply raised a surprised eyebrow at his partner. “...She didn’t learn that from me.”

The rest of the team turned their gaze to us one by one, each having a visible reaction. Bruce flinched minutely before smirking, immediately returning to the food on his plate. Cap folded his arms, deeply unimpressed, while Tony grinned, hands behind his head. “Well, if any of us had doubt that you two were screwing... That’s some great handiwork, Nat. Gotta say, I’m a little jealous.”

Stephen was sat beside the scientist, and we both smiled sheepishly as our eyes met.

I wonder what Stephen’s doing here so early...

I wonder if Stephen ever left.

Clint bounded to a free seat, piling sandwiches onto his plate as his stomach growled, making me chuckle as I sat beside him. “Hungry?”

He met my gaze, steady and heavy. “Starving. I didn’t eat much last night.” I felt myself go crimson at the double entendre, heart spiking in my throat, but Clint just tucked in happily, oblivious.

Steve, on my partner’s other side, rubbed his neck uncertainly. “Uh, guys...?”

“Oh, God, calm down, old man. It’s just sex – it isn’t contagious,” Tony scoffed, draining his whiskey glass in one swallow.

Steve glared at him briefly before shaking his head, hesitant. “It’s not that. It’s just... Clint, I’m the only other person on your floor, and my hearing is excellent. I’d appreciate not being party to your... Crescendo.”

I’d just bitten into a sandwich as the War Hero spoke, so found myself quickly choking once I snorted at his words, Clint’s hand patting my back firmly. He waited until I’d finished coughing to turn back to Steven, only the barest hint of a blush colouring his ears. “Sorry, Cap. It won’t happen again. I guess we got a little, uh... Overexcited.”

I flushed at the memory of the primal sound I dragged from my lover, ducking my head, fingertips brushing his thigh wordlessly. I can think of plenty of things we could put in his mouth to prevent that problem.

Tony stood to refill his glass, and Stephen leant across his empty seat quickly. “... It seems we both fulfilled our part of the deal, Natasha.”

“It seems we did, Doctor Strange.” I glanced at the billionaire by the counter, than back to the man quickly becoming my friend. “Did you... Were you at the Sanctum this morning?”

“I was.” He grinned as my face fell, stretching closer conspiratorially. “But just to change my clothes,” he added, glancing about himself before surreptitiously tugging down his own collar. There, significantly lighter than Clint’s but no less real, was a circular bruise, nestled into the flesh between throat and collarbone.

I bit my knuckles to suppress a squeal, giving myself a heartbeat to calm before shimmering forward. “No way. Seriously?”

The unshakable doctor blushed, making me smirk. “Nothing further, you’ll be sad to know. But... That was enough, I think. ...I’m not even certain he remembers it. Or if he does, it’s behaviour he harbours intense regret for.” His gaze cut to the scientist once more, watching pensively as he dropped ice cubes into amber liquid.

I flinched sympathetically, patting Stephen’s hand gently. “You’ve said it yourself; Tony is... Complicated. He might just need time. Not many things are new to him, but I imagine this is.”

I wanted to ask- to learn the possibly-sweet, likely-sordid details for no purpose other than my own curiousity, but I held my tongue. If he wants to tell me, he will. Speaking of which...

I turned to the second of my magical friends, who was still chucking lightly with a good-natured shake of the head, smirking to Vision as her eyes flickered intermittently in my direction, but her gaze focused fully on me when she saw me watching.

“Хорошая ночь?” she pressed, grinning. (Good night?)

“Лучшая ночь в моей жизни,” I sighed contentedly, eyes shifting to my partner, currently stuffing his fourth sandwich ravenously down his throat, and he snorted around the mouthful of bread. (The best night of my life.)

“Лучшая ночь в твоей жизни пока что,” he amended, muffled and full of carbohydrates. (The best night of your life so far.) “Give me chance, Little Spider. Cap will need noise-cancelling headphones before I’m through with you.”

I choked on my water, glancing at the All-American soldier with wide eyes, but he simply grimaced and smirked. “I think I’d prefer it to yours, Hawkeye. I’ve seen and heard a lot in my life, but I think being dragged from sleep to that godawful sound was up there with one of the worst experiences I've ever endured. I thought the bombs were back.”

I blinked in disbelief as Steve’s lips twitched playfully, my gaze finding Wanda’s, and we burst into riotous laughter, my stomach aching from the contractions.

“О, он пожалеет об этом...” Clint murmured, his hand finding my thigh and squeezing lightly. (Oh, he's going to regret that...) 

Cap chortled, biting light-heartedly into his own sandwich. “I was a super-solider in World War II, Barton. I don’t know why you assume I don’t speak Russian. Вы ошибаетесь,” he added pointedly, his accent almost flawless, leaving my lover to raise a surprised eyebrow. (You are wrong.)

Are you… Should we finish that?

I looked down, startled from my light-hearted enjoyment, to the single, half-eaten sandwich on my plate, unable to prevent myself from glancing surreptitiously around me. Clint, Steve and Wanda continued laughing amongst themselves while Vision looked on, eyes on his partner fondly. Stephen and Tony were talking quietly, heads a little closer together than necessary, eliciting a brief smile.

Bruce.

My gaze darted to the end of the table, finding the doctor’s stare firmly upon mine, and winced as he inclined his head toward my plate.

He probably thinks our fun was just a diversion tactic.

… Wasn’t it? Widow clarified, noting my unshakable delight at the low ache in my abdomen.

No. Well… Not entirely.

He's not going to stop watching you.

I sighed, picking up my sandwich and smiling scathingly at the doctor, who simply nodded in response. “Once you finish up here, we’ll do your vitals. Clint wouldn’t let me wake you this morning – he said you needed your sleep,” he added, one brow arched. My jaw tightened, carbs and fat turning solid in my throat.

I wonder how long he’s been watching?

Only one way to find out, I guess.

I theatrically swallowed the rest of my sandwich, pushing my chair back. He only watched me steadily, knowingly, before his eyes flicked to my partner, who was currently proudly showing off his tattoo – and the rope burns on his wrists. Flinching, Bruce stood, inclining his head.

He knows.

He does. But he also wants to leave, so… Take the win, Nat.

“I still think putting extra toll on your body at this time was inordinately stupid,” Bruce muttered as he patted down my gown-covered form, perfunctory and polite. I cocked my head in confusion, and he glanced up. “The tattoo. I haven’t seen your own yet, but if it’s comparable to Barton’s, its stress that your body didn’t need.” I turned obligingly, smoothing stray hairs from my neck, and I felt one tentative finger touch my still-warm skin. “… They match.”

“They do,” I agreed hesitantly. “Though it wasn’t entirely deliberate. He had several options – he just happened to pick the one I’d already used, quite by chance. Not that I’m complaining.”

He hummed under his breath, jerking his head toward the scales when I faced him once more. Following him obligingly, my footsteps faltered as the flat, unobtrusive platform loomed threateningly before me. “… I shouldn’t really be weighed after eating, right?”

He snorted humourlessly, gesturing me onto the device. “Three things, Natasha. First, and most importantly; I’d hardly call your lunch ‘eating’. Second; I will factor your meagre consumption into my charts.”

I swallowed dryly as he jotted down the number behind me, a miniscule frown tugging at his lips.

You’ve lost weight.

Yeah.

“And thirdly?” I prompted, nervous fingers tangling in the coarse fabric by my thighs.

“Thirdly… Outside of significant changes – level progression, and the like - I’ll no longer be disclosing your changes to anyone outside of this room. So whether or not you gain a third of a pound because you ate a sandwich beforehand, nobody will know except me.”

“… Why?” I whispered, distrustful of this change of circumstances. Bruce sighed, hand running through his hair.

“Because I am your doctor – nobody else’s. At least, not in this. You are - arguably, given the change from your start weight, though I'm inclined to disagree - out of immediate danger, so how you conduct yourself should be up to you. You know the rules – as does Clint – and it’s up to the two of you to follow that as you see fit. Evidently, my orders mean little,” he added, a swift green flicker in his gaze. “I’ll keep an eye on you when I’m present, but I will no longer be pushing others to do the same.”

My mouth worked wordlessly, stunned to silence. “I… Don’t understand,” I admitted, frowning.

“You and Clint are going to do whatever you want, and I’m tired of arguing with you – either of you – about it,” he replied tersely, jaw clenched.

I laughed shortly, dry and derisive. “Is this because we had sex? I thought we moved past this, Bruce.”

Tongue poked into his cheek, he stepped back, gesturing me toward the curtain. “For the most part. But I can’t pretend it doesn’t still hurt, Nat. Both because of my feelings for you, and because of the effort I put into carefully establishing a treatment plan that seems to have been wasted."

I hesitated, stunned into silence, one foot still in the air. “… Then why do you bother with all this at all, if that’s how  you feel? If everything is just… Pointless?”

Teeth ground into a reluctant smile, he met my gaze. “Because, as I said, Natasha… I still have feelings for you. I’m coming to accept that you’re not going to be mine, and starting to let them go, but it’s a process. But, either way, I will always care about you, and want you to be okay. I just can’t keep whipping myself by watching you take recovery as casually as you have been.” I opened my mouth to protest, to enthuse that I’d been working hard, but his quirked eyebrow closed my jaw silently. “You want the numbers, Nat? I’ll give them to you. I can tell you exactly how hard you’ve been working – and how much you’ve been getting away with, despite me constantly enforcing the rules to every single member of our team. The only significant weight gain you’ve had was while you were in your coma.”

“How would you know?” I laughed, panicked. “It’s not like you could weigh me.”

He smiled wryly, clearing his throat. “Friday?”

“Yes, Dr. Banner?”

“How much do I weigh?”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Banner. I am forbidden to discuss weight or perform calculations in the presence of Ms. Romanoff.”

He waved a hand, irked. “Override code - 2 1 14 14 5 18.”

Override code-

-2 1 14 14 5 18. ‘Banner’. Not very imaginative, is it?

There was the most inifinitesimal of pauses, and then-

“Current weight is 128.94lbs, with an estimated discrepancy of 0.001lbs.”

“Height? BMI?”

“Current height is 5 feet and 9.21 inches. Your BMI is 18.9, with classifies you as a healthy weight, according to most diagnostic criteria.”

His gaze cut to mine, sharp and terrifying. “I don’t need scales to weigh you, Natasha. I never did. We do it this way because it’s more polite.” I swallowed dryly, and his voice raised once more. “Friday – recount Natasha’s weight measurements on day one of treatment, day one of coma, day eleven of coma, day eight post-coma, and today.”

“101.5, 96.2, 105.4, 102.2, and 99lbs, Dr. Banner.”

16.4. My BMI is 16.4. That’s half a point lower than it was when this hell started.

I couldn’t help myself – a smile twitched at my lips, and Bruce simply tipped his head, profoundly, encompassingly sad. “That should horrify you, Natasha. You’ve been ‘trying’ to recover, as you so passionately argue, and yet since this begun you have lost two and a half pounds. My oversight was in defining the parameters of your levels – I stipulated that gain would be in accordance to your lowest weight. On day twelve post-coma, you were exactly five pounds heavier than your lowest weight – 101.2. You were lower than the weight this started at, and I saw my failings. But I hoped that this would motivate you, encourage you to take a more active role in your recovery. It has been twenty-four hours, and even with half a sandwich inside you, you’ve somehow managed to lose another 2.2lbs, Natasha. Unfortunately, I also didn’t stipulate what would happen if you no longer fulfilled the terms of your level.” He paused to take a breath, fists balled by his sides.

“I-”

“So that leaves me with two options, moving forward,” he continued, beginning to pace as his skin tinged green, heart rate monitor beeping gently. “I either acknowledge my mistake and redefine the terms of your recovery contract – which will certainly lead to more disappointment when Cl- the team fails to follow the guidelines – or I let you continue as you are. At this point, though, it’s less about recovery, and more about preventing death for the longest time possible. Which… If you carry on this way, Natasha? That ‘longest time possible’ won’t be very long at all. We’ll soon be talking weeks, not months.”

Weeks. Are you… Are we… Really that sick?

Weeks. Weeks with Clint. I promised him a lifetime, but this wasn’t what I meant. I wanted to see him grow old. I wanted to see him get his farm.

A ragged, hitched sob resounded in my throat, bringing the doctor to a sudden halt, the flush of his flesh draining quickly as he looked at me. “What do I do?” I whimpered, fingernails falling instinctively into the permenant ruts on the back of my arms. “Bruce… Tell me what to do.”

He paled, his own eyes filling, and he moved to put a gentle hand on mine, interrupting the injury. “You talk. Through one thing and another, you haven’t yet had a therapy session. I can set that up for you. You talk to your therapist, you talk to me, you talk to the team… And, yes, you talk to Clint. Because as much as I am loathe to admit it, I imagine he is your biggest motivation.” I nodded desperately, and the doctor offered me a weak smile. “The other option is, of course, inpatient treatment. And I think that needs to be discussed as a very real possibility, and one that you would accept, with the right circumstances. A ‘level 0’, if you would.”

I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know if I can do this.

“We renegotiate the terms of your treatment plan, correcting my earlier oversights. We – together – tell the team how important it is to not let you slip. You need their support, and sometimes that will feel like monitoring; sometimes, that will be exactly what it is. You will stumble, over and over again. You’ll gain weight, but you’ll also lose weight. You’ll relapse in every way possible. But, if you accept it… We can stop you from falling entirely. And, God, Natasha… I really don’t want to see you fall. Not again,” he added, wincing softly at the memory of my broken and bleeding body.

… Agree.

What?

You need to agree, Natasha. Agree to his terms, whatever they are.

But what about being thin? Being strong? Being perfect?

I have always tried to protect you, Nat. Maybe wrongly, but that’s what I did. And the best way I can protect you right now is by letting someone else do it.

My breathing hitched, panicked and touched. …Will you still be here?

Always, Little Spider. Like you said… We’re a part of one another. And besides, you’re not the only one who needs this recovery. I felt them flinch and recoil, burdened by memories they’d protected me from for so long. Maybe if they teach you how to love yourself, you can teach me.

I whimpered aloud, burying my face in my hands. “Thank you. Thank you. For everything.”

It took three hours for Bruce and I to renegotiate my treatment plan. After twenty minutes, Clint was pacing outside the door, his intermittent knocks and muffled conversations with Friday punctuating the solemnity of our proceedings. The doctor had looked at me inquisitively, but I’d only shook my head.

“That’s the first of those conversations I should have, right?”

“No, Natasha. This is.”

It took three hours, and a hell of a lot of tears, for Bruce and I to renegotiate my treatment plan. But eventually I stood, feeling lighter than I had in a long time, and crossed to the door, fingers toying with the vibrant red band around my wrist.

Level one. Here we go again.

I’d argued most vehemently against my right to physical activity – or, more accurately, physical intimacy. Bruce and I had got through our negotiation with as little awkwardness as possible, with me briefly recounting my recent reclamation of my sexuality, and the fears that it would fade if I was forced once more to avoid sleeping with Clint. Bruce had been ever sympathetic, outlining the way that could progress through the levels, and what that could look like; he took the time to listen to my values and desires, and suggested ways that we could implement these things into my treatment plan, eventually coming to a tentative agreement.

The second my trembling hands turned the lock,  the door flew open, a ball of frantic archer gathering me against his body instantly. “Goddamn it, Nat, what the fuck? Friday wouldn’t tell me anything and I couldn’t open the door. What the hell were you doing in here?” He took in my puffy, tearstained face and rounded on Bruce, growling threateningly, his eyes narrowed. “What did you do to her? I’ll fucking kill you if you-”

“Clint,” I interrupted softly, tapping his chest. “Rein it in, my love. Bruce has done nothing but help me.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes as his fingers found mine. “You’re doing really well, Nat. Whatever help he’s told you that you need-”

“I’m not, though. I… I’m not doing well.” I sighed heavily, my free hand pushing stray hairs from my forehead. “I weigh less than I did when all this started. I’ve been getting away with more than I should, and I’ve been tricking everyone into thinking I’m doing better. I’m not doing better, Clint,” I added, my voice cracking minutely.

He glanced back down at me in panic, finally looking away from the impassive doctor. “I… What? But you’re… You’re level two now. That was only yesterday.”

“I was five pounds above my lowest weight,” I conceded, nodding. “But my lowest weight came after all of this started. And I… I’ve dropped another two since then. I’ve consistently lost weight this entire time, Clint, but gained enough while I was comatose that it wasn’t flagged until now. And Bruce… Bruce made me realise that this can’t keep going. I promised you a lifetime, Clint. But now I’m promising you a lifetime that won’t be cut short by my own hand. Because that’s where this was going. Weeks, rather than months – isn’t that what you said, Doc?”

The other man simply nodded, while Clint stammered out nonsensical words, his grip on my hand almost painful. “We’ve been in here so long because we’ve overhauled my treatment plan. And actually…” I raised my free wrist, the red hospital tag prevalent and inescapable. “I’m level one again now. A restart. A reaffirmation.” I flinched at the agony on my partner’s face, taking a deep, steadying breath. “Last time, I was dragged kicking and screaming into treatment. But now I… Well, it would be easy to say I want this, but that wouldn’t be true. Honestly, all I want is to sprint as far and as fast as I can in the opposite direction, even now. But I can at least acknowledge that I need this, and I’ll do it willingly. I’ll fuck up, but I’m going to try.”

He glanced at the doctor for clarification, wincing when he nodded, turning to brush his lips against mine. “I love you, Nat. I’ll do whatever I can to support you. I promise.”

“Good. Because… We need to talk.”

I could feel his erratic pulse in his palm as I sat opposite him on our bed, thumbs smoothing the work-worn skin tenderly. “… I’m level one again. I… I currently weigh 99lbs. This is my new baseline. If I… If I get below 90, at any point, I’ll be going into a facility. Level zero.” He opened his mouth, eyes flashing with alarm, but I shook my head lightly. “Please, Clint. Just let me get through this, and then you can say whatever you need to, I promise.” He nodded once, jaw clicking shut, and I sighed.

“Level one means a lot of what it did before. Weekly therapy sessions – that’ll start tomorrow. Daily weigh-ins, weekly bloods. I managed to stipulate that you be the one who does my… Who checks for any harm I’ve done, both for my own comfort, and in the name of being thorough. I managed to hide it from Bruce twice, after all.”

“Searches after meals. Minimum servings. Restricted bathroom access for two hours after eating. I’m not allowed to be alone, and Friday’s biofeedback will be reinstated, though you’ve been given override access for thirty minute intervals on request.” A brief flash of midnight pushups performed by someone else, followed by desperately clinging at porcelain, sweat dripping, body screaming, made me wince.

Sorry. I just… I’m sorry.

“I’ve been exercising at night, ever since you turned Friday off. I’ve purged a few times – again, usually at night. That evening I spent alone in my rooms, I… Well, it likely contributed quite a lot to the weight loss.” I balled my trembling fingers, attempting to ease the racing of my heart. “But the idea is that this will stop that. I won’t be able to spend the night alone until level four, at 119lbs. The hope is that by then, even if I want a night alone on occasion, I’ll be far enough along to be okay. But even so, Friday will still be active in my rooms – just in case.”

“I can’t exercise again. The only change there is our… Well, the exercise we do together. While on level one, I’m restricted to a… ‘Pillow princess’ role, to put it bluntly. Minimum strain and effort. I have to have a snack after, with at least 300 calories, and a bottle of juice before. That’s why Friday can be turned off – but she’ll still be tracking my heart rate. If it goes above my maximum healthy pulse rate, she’ll let us know, and we have to stop. Apparently that’s not negotiable – it would be, quite literally, a risk to my life.”

“Oh – I’m allowed one weekly veto,” I added, flinching as I recalled my whispered confession into my palms, explaining to the ever-patient doctor that I’d had a panic attack over mac and cheese. “Something equivalent can be made instead. But there are some things I just can’t eat – not yet – and forcing myself to try and do it is going to cause more harm than good. Either we’ll fight and I’ll refuse, or I’ll end up making myself sick.”

“And I… I guess that’s it. Bruce is going to have another word with the team, but I offered to talk to you myself. I… You can’t let me break the rules anymore, Clint. Even if I confess, even if I beg and plead and cry and tell you I hate you. You have to be strict with me.” My voice broke and I dropped my head, sobs shaking my shoulders violently. I hate this I hate this I hate this I hate this.

I know. But it’s for your own good.

His fingers reached out, shaking as they touched my chin, meeting my watery gaze with his own. “I’m so proud of you, Little Spider.”

For the third time, I found myself in the presence of more Avengers than I had seen in a long while – even T’Challa, Shuri, and Nick having made time for this.

Bruce was holding court as I entered on shaky legs, concluding his recount of our discussion and the new parameters, emphasizing the importance of every single individual holding me accountable. “If you see something, say something,” he finished, to a chorus of nods and shamed murmurs. Almost every one of them had seen me smear, shred, or otherwise skip a meal, and their faces flamed as they acknowledged their misguided attempts to allow me small comforts.

“Hey, guys,” I murmured, waving shyly, the eyes of every team member locking immediately on the red band around my wrist.

There was a pause, a throat clear, and a heavy awkward silence.

“Eat a goddamn cheeseburger, Nat,” Tony snorted, taking a sip from his ever-present glass. Half of the gathered heroes winced in horror, Clint included, but I only laughed.

“Actually, I’d love one, if that’s a genuine offer.”

There was a flurry of movement, serving dishes uncovered, a veritable feast spread across the table, and Tony picked up an individually-wrapped burger with a relish. “This lot have been cooking a bunch of what they like to call ‘real food’, but I went to In-N-Out. I cooked yesterday; that’s me done for the next month, at least.”

Take-out burgers.

How long has it been?

I glanced at my partner, remembering nights perched on rooftops and tossing fries at one another as we laughed, subtly dropping my half-finished hamburger over the edge when he wasn’t looking. Since I started one? About six months. I don’t remember the last time I finished one.

… Today seems like a good day to break that streak. Maybe even twice.

I grinned despite myself, rounding the table to drop into a seat beside Tony. Maybe.

Nick sat opposite me, watching me steadily as I unwrapped the semi-translucent wrapping, trying not to think about the grease seeping into my fingertips. “Natasha, it goes without saying that you’re on extended medical leave for the foreseeable future.”

Awkward silence fell, but I didn’t look up until I bit into my meal, revelling in the complimenting texture of lettuce, tomato, and meat. “Yeah, that makes sense. Do I need to leave?”

Clint bristled beside me, but Nick simply waved him away, my partner cowering under his authority. “No, Nat. You’ll always be a member of the team, even if you’re not on active duty. Bruce and I have agreed that you can recommence missions as long as you are at level three or above, and comply with any and all psychological debriefing deemed necessary. We can’t have a mission-gone-wrong offsetting your progress.”

I smiled weakly, touched by the consideration of this gruff man. “I appreciate your concern, and your candor, Director Fury.”

He simply nodded, then turned to the young girl beside him, asking questions about her latest round of outreach programmes, his piece having been said.

“Nat?”

I turned to the next person vying for my attention, and Steve winced guiltily as my eyes found his. “I screwed up. I… I realised today. It shouldn’t have taken that long.” I cocked my head curiously, and his gaze flicked to the still-healing scars across my exposed wrists. “I should never have left you alone. If I hadn’t, maybe…”

I shook my head firmly, raising a hand to stop him. I’d almost forgotten where I got that knife. “Steve… If it wasn’t from you, it would have been from someone else. I took advantage of the situation, and that is not your fault, okay?” He nodded morosely, and I smirked. “Besides – if it’s punishment you were after, I think that’s already been issued by the things you were subjected to last night.”

He laughed softly, rolling his eyes. “I’d far rather be traumatised like that on a daily basis than ever be hit with the horrified realisation I got this afternoon.” He gestured at the wide bowl in the centre of the table, aromatic meatballs nestled amongst the thin spaghetti strands. “It wasn’t until I was cooking that I…”

I met his gaze as I finished my burger, reaching out to serve myself a decent portion of his dish. “Well, let’s hope your horror was in pursuit of something worthwhile, huh?”

“Oh, it is,” Nick mumbled around his fork. “I’ve had the Cap’s spaghetti and meatballs only a couple of times before, but it was still motivation enough for me to get my ass to New York as soon as I heard it was on the agenda.”

I laughed, spearing an errant meatball and waving it at the director. “Nothing to do with me then, huh?”

He met me gaze steadily, unruffled. “Nope. Just the pasta.”

I snorted as he smiled infinitesimally. “You’re really selling it, Nick.” I bit into the ball, turning to the War Hero with a grin. It was delectably seasoned, pepper and thyme perfectly balanced, eliciting a groan. “Okay, I get it. I’d make a trip for this – and, as we all know, I don’t eat.”

Tony spluttered into his drink, Stephen’s hand instinctively finding the space between his shoulder blades without looking up.

Clint carried me back to the apartment that night, and I began to cry on the way. Panicked, he held me closer, and I buried my face into his collarbone.

“Everything hurts.”

“I bet, little one. Your body isn’t used to eating… Well, anything, really.”

Alongside the burger and Cap’s pasta, there was a small amount of Thor’s venison stew (accompanied by tales of Asgardian hunting and celebratory feasts), and goulash. Clint’s goulash, unmistakably – an echo of a mission in Hungary when extraction was taking days, and the archer’s double shoulder dislocation had left him curled up in an abandoned factory, too stoic to complain despite his evident pain. I’d left him with a kiss to the forehead and a promise of a prompt return, and came back with a small, hot pot of the Hungarian stew, gently tipping it down his throat for him until we were finally collected, ignoring the waves of nausea at my own hunger. Ever since then, it had been his comfort food, and though he preferred mine to his own, I held the opposite stance. God only knows when he had time to cook. I’d consumed a full bowl of it, already full before I started but determined not to miss out, meeting his eyes over the steaming portion with a fond smile.

My stomach now protruded between my hipbones, strained and uncomfortable, but the memory still made me smile weakly. “Worth it, though,” I sniffed, wiping my eyes stubbornly. For your goulash. For you.

Do it for him.

He nudged the door open and closed with only his hip, reluctant to release his grip on me for even a moment. I found myself placed on the bed, my overworked body shivering, and he slid in behind me, fingertips tracing my tender abdomen lightly. I flinched instinctively before taking a deep breath, leaning into the contact, letting the physical comfort win out over the psychological recoil, his touch easing my pain slowly.

“I love you, Clint.”

“I love you too, my Little Spider. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

I purred, tipping my head back until his forehead touched my hair, one arm reaching back to hold his neck gently. “Here’s hoping it’s a long one.”

You and him against the world, huh?

I smiled to myself, eyes closing of their own volition. No. Us and him… And our family, I added, a catalogue of the concerned expressions of my teammates. The one we never sought out and have frequently pushed away, but they’re our family anyway.

[dejwrldarchived]

You know i feel like you would do well with a pop culture commentary type of podcast/videos. I think you have the sense of humor for it

coming soon.

[whsprings]

.

[latveriastrong]

So um. Diagnosis is: persistent depressive disorder, left untreated for years because previous doctor mistook the periods where that depression lifted somewhat for actual manic episodes and diagnosed me with bipolar disorder instead. It's been just hanging out and getting worse over time. 👍 Apparently a baseline of, "I don't really feel anything but sometimes I can't experience joy for like months at a time?" is atypical. I just thought I was goth. 🫤

[sunniques]

— 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞

➺ PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x female reader

➺ GENRE: boyfriend’s dad au, smut

➺ SUMMARY: your boyfriend’s manipulative father helps you get revenge in the nastiest way possible.

➺ CW/TW: yandere themes, slight obsession, age gap, cheating, manipulation, baby trapping, dry humping, panty stealing, mentions of masturbation, wonwoo is a depraved perv, dilf!wonwoo, nipple play, spitting, fingering, some cum play, unprotected sex, squirting, creampies

➺ WC: 4k

NOTE: don’t like, don’t read. @wonustars hope you like it <3

Wonwoo is a sick man.

He knows this, he acknowledges it, and most importantly, he hides it.

When people thought of Jeon Wonwoo, they thought of a respectable lawyer, widower, loving father of two. And they were right. He had never done anything to indicate otherwise. Not publicly, anyway. For years he’s hidden his most depraved side without letting anyone know it existed.

His facade all starts to crumble when his son comes home from college with a lovely girl who he’s apparently head over heels for. Wonwoo recognizes the starry eyed look in his son’s eyes, and instead of being happy for him, all Wonwoo can feel is faint disgust and disdain. It’s pathetic and vile, but it’s a feeling that he can’t get rid of no matter what he does.

It gets worse when you start coming around more often, prancing around in your little shorts and skirts like Wonwoo doesn’t get hard just seeing your exposed skin. He’s sick for stealing your dirty panties when you come over and using them to jerk off, but again, he can’t stop his despicable actions. His obsession with you only grows as time goes on, and eventually he decides that he’s going to have you no matter what.

The first step in Wonwoo’s sick plan is showing you just how lavish life is with a man who can provide. He ruthlessly cuts his son off, insisting that getting out in the real world and being independent is necessary. It’s easy to ignore his son’s protests and clamors about how unfair it is that his sister doesn’t get the same treatment, mostly because he sees how fast this strategy works.

When he overhears his son tell you he actually can’t buy you the bag you’ve been wanting he can see the disappointment in your face. Wonwoo is smart enough to know it’s less about the bag and more about the seemingly empty promise. It makes sense since his son can no longer pay for your food or makeup or any clothes you like. His son can’t even get you lavish gifts you’d grown accustom to.

That’s why when your birthday rolls around, you don’t expect much. It’s perfect because you don’t expect to be spoiled which makes your reaction that much sweeter.

“Mr. Jeon!” You cry out in shock when you open the bag your boyfriend’s dad gave you. “I-I don’t know what to say! This is– I mean—Thank you!”

Not only did he gift you an expensive bag that his son had failed to give you, he also got you the biggest bottle of your favorite perfume, some clothes, and a very expensive necklace. Wonwoo smirked smugly when you hugged him, loving how you pressed your entire body against his. His son couldn’t have known, but he saw the way you started to look at him with less appreciation. Of course, it was only natural. After all, all women loved a man who could provide.

The next step was something Wonwoo couldn’t really be blamed for. All he did was have his coworker and her pretty daughter over for dinner when you were away visiting your family. He can’t be to blame for the fact that his son is a weak man who hasn’t truly accepted monogamy. Sure, he did push it along by leaving two college kids alone in a house full of liquor. And yes, he was responsible for them often meeting up whenever you weren’t around, but again, it wasn’t entirely his fault.

The final step to this long winded plan was making sure you found out.

Wonwoo is lucky his daughter has more of a moral compass than he and his son combined. The second she realized what was going on, she didn’t hesitate to tell you. Admittedly, he was saddened to know how heartbroken you initially felt. However, when he saw you again, you seemed void of that. All he could see was your thirst for revenge.

Luckily for you, he was more than willing to help you make that happen.

You still haven’t broken up with Wonwoo’s son, much to his annoyance. In fact, you’re acting like nothing’s wrong even when you come along to their vacation home during the summer. His son is hardly paying you any attention and his daughter has gone off with her friends somewhere, leaving you to your own devices.

“Hey, babe. I’m running to the store real quick. Need anything?” Your boyfriend asks without looking up from his phone.

Before, he would’ve insisted you go with him. Things change, but you don’t care. Not anymore.

“No thanks. Be safe.”

He doesn’t kiss you goodbye, and you’re glad.

Your eyes drift over to Wonwoo, appreciating how good he looks. The perfect idea for revenge had occurred to you a while ago, and with the older man quietly sipping on some liquor on the couch, you know there’s no better time than the present to set your plan in motion.

Boldly, you get up from where you’re sitting and slide onto Wonwoo’s lap. Your panties are already slick with your arousal as you sit directly on his crotch. Dark eyes look at you in surprise when you gently start to grind your panty-clad pussy down without any qualms. All you do is smirk seductively before you go to kiss and suck on Wonwoo’s neck.

“Sweetheart.” Wonwoo groans, cock already hardening because of the wet heat that’s pushing down on him. “What about—?”

“Your son’s an asshole.” You say bluntly. “And I want him to feel as shitty as I do.”

You pull back, expecting Wonwoo to push you off of him or tell you what you’re doing is wrong. Instead he only laughs and goes to kiss you. A quiet squeal escapes you when he starts to lick into your mouth. You’re quick to melt into the kiss, moaning into his mouth when Wonwoo starts to guide your hips down onto his covered cock.

The sound of a car door slamming has you pulling away. You smirk when Wonwoo groans in disapproval. The wet spot you’ve left on his pants only turns you on even more, and all you do is wink at him before running upstairs to the guest room he provided for you.

The rest of the evening goes by without incident, well except for the fact that your boyfriend got a little too drunk on wine and was now passed out on the couch. His sister only looks at him with disgust and announces that she’s going to bed. You know the truth. Earlier, she confessed that she was going to sneak out to go clubbing with her friends. This was perfect since you were going to need her gone to execute your plan.

“Goodnight, Mr. Jeon.” You purr as you stretch your arms over your head, noticing his eyes drift down you where your skirt had ridden up.

You don’t bother to hide your smirk as you go upstairs. As soon as you get to the room, you leave the door open, slipping out of your clothes and putting on a tiny night shirt that came just above your belly button. You get on the bed and settle on your side, cunt still thrumming with arousal. All you can think about is getting fucked raw by your boyfriend’s dad, and you hope he hurries up and gives you what you want.

Slowly, you slide your hand into your panties, teasing your fingers across your swollen clit. It’s easy to lose yourself to the pleasure. Especially since your mind can’t stop replaying what happened earlier in the day. God, was Mr. Jeon a good kisser. Way better than his pathetic son. You mewl quietly, wishing the ache between your legs was being soothed by someone else.

Wonwoo almost cums in his pants when he sees you on the bed. You’re only wearing a small shirt and panties, which makes it easy to see what you’re doing. He smirks, slowly undressing himself as he approaches you. It’s funny how you don’t notice him until he slides in right behind you.

“Need some help?”

You pussy throbs in excitement, and before you can answer him, you feel his hand slip down your body to cover the one you have in your panties. The mewl you let out makes his cock twitch and throb. Wonwoo holds back a groan, ready to have you in the way he’s dreamed of for months.

“You have to be quiet, sweetheart.” His breath fans against your ears. “I can’t have my kids walking in on us when we’re just getting started.”

You almost tell him his sweet little daughter is out partying with her friends so there’s no real reason to keep quiet, but you resist. After all, no one would be able stop you from fucking the insanely hot man playing with your pussy.

“So fucking wet.” Wonwoo whispers hotly. “What were you thinking about?”

“You.” It’s easy to admit, especially because you can tell how much he likes it. “And how fucking wrong this all is.”

Wonwoo hums, and it somehow seems like he’s gloating. His fingers circle your throbbing clit over and over until you’re squirming against him. “Maybe, but you like it. That’s why you’re dripping all over my hand. You like your boyfriend’s dad playing with your pussy that much, huh, baby?”

“Fuck yeah.” You hiss, eyes falling closed when he pinches your wet clit. “You’re so fucking hot, Mr. Jeon. Way better than your pussy ass son.”

Wonwoo’s dick presses against your ass as he rolls his hips to grind against you. Juices gush from your cunt as he groans into your neck. “I fucking knew it—I’ve always known it. Even before you were grinding your wet pussy on me.”

You bite your lip, slightly embarrassed that he knew you were attracted to him this entire time. It’s not like you can be blamed. He’s one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen, and obviously he felt some bit of attraction for you as well.

“Roll over and show me those pretty tits, baby.” Wonwoo rasps in your ear.

His words has more of your arousal coating his long fingers. You’re feeling hot all over, and you don’t hesitate to comply. You twist your body before you pull your shirt up to let your tits free. Immediately, your nipples harden under his dark gaze

“That’s it.” Wonwoo groans deeply as he rubs your pussy harder. “Prettiest tits I’ve ever seen. Fuck. Makes me want to suck on them until you’re creaming all over my fingers.”

You moan and arch your back into him. Wonwoo licks his lips and stops rubbing your pussy to pull off your panties. He grabs his cock and rubs it along your pussy. You cry out quietly when you feel his hot cock skip between your wet folds and drag against your clit and dripping hole. By now you’re panting, hips writhing from the stimulation. Wonwoo drags wet fingers up to pinch your taut nipples.

“You’ll let me suck on your sweet tits, won’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yes!” You agree immediately, feeling an arousing thrill when Wonwoo lets out a deep groan.

He twists your upper body some more until your back is against the mattress. Your hips are still twisted at an angle so his cock can keep rubbing against your pussy. The position isn’t uncomfortable, and you watch with anticipation as Wonwoo ducks his head to drag his mouth across the swell of your breasts. His eyes never leave yours when his mouth dips down to suck on one of your sensitive nipples. As you feel the hot wet suction, your eyes slip close with a whine.

You grind your cunt down on Wonwoo’s cock, dripping slick all over him. He moans against you nipple as he slowly drags his dick back and forth to stimulate you. The head of his cock leaks precum making your pussy messier and stickier. You drag your hand through Wonwoo’s hair, sighing and mewling as his hot mouth suckles on your hard bud.

“Fuck, just like that!” You mewl, arching your back to shove more of your tit into his mouth.

The next time he catches your gaze, you can see his pupils blown wide and a light blush spread across his face. It’s so attractive that more of your arousal drips onto his cock. Wonwoo then sucks a bruise on the curve of your breast, teeth gently digging into the soft skin. You gasp at the dull ache, pussy clenching around nothing.

“So fucking sweet.” His voice is low and raspy, tongue lapping at the bruise he left behind.

You whine and arch up into him more. “S-Shit, Mr. Jeon. This is so fucking dirty.”

He just grins at you wickedly, hips swirling against you so his cock brushes against your throbbing clit. Wonwoo starts to press wet kisses on your tits tenderly, dark eyes never leaving yours. “It is, and yet you still like it. That’s why you’re not trying to be quiet. You want my son to know your little pussy is aching for my cock.”

You moan loudly when he starts to roughly suck on your other nipple. He’s not bothering to keep his own moans quiet as he swaps back and forth between your nipples until they’re both puffy and sore. As he works his teeth and tongue on your hard buds, he grinds his cock up against your slick hole making you part your legs further.

“I know you want it, baby.” Wonwoo says after he’s satisfied with the marks he’s left on your tits. He rubs his leaking tip against your clit to hear you moan again. “Want me to split you open on my fat cock, hm? I’ll show you how a real man fucks.”

“Fuck—please.” You whimper desperately. “Need you to fuck me, Mr. Jeon.”

“Call me Wonwoo, sweetheart.” He groans as he gets up and positions you so you’re fully on your back.

You mewl when Wonwoo rests his dick on your stomach. The sight is dizzying in the best way—an arousing image of how deep he’ll reach inside you once he slides into your pretty pussy. His leaking tip is almost to your belly button, and he wishes badly that he could take a picture. Wonwoo licks his lips as slowly rubs his cock through your slippery folds, covering it with your juices. His fat tip brushes against your clit and makes you whine.

You moan when he eases his cockhead past your slick folds. The squeeze of your hot cunt is tight, and it makes Wonwoo roll his hips into yours, fucking himself deeper into your clenching pussy.

“Wonwoo!” You mewl, already feeling so full even though he’s not even all the way inside.

Just hearing you moan his name has him thrusting forward and burying his cock balls deep inside your wet pussy with a deep growl. You cry out loudly, tits bouncing at his roughness. Wonwoo’s large palm immediately covers your mouth, cock throbbing inside you.

“Shh, baby. You don’t want us to get caught do you? What would my son say is he walked in and saw his dad fucking his girlfriend’s tight little cunt?”

You moan against his hand, pussy clamping down on his dick tighter than before. Wonwoo clicks his tongue, slowly grinding deeper into you. The thought turns him on too, more than he would ever admit.

“Oh? You like that?” He hums as you buck your hips up to meet his slow thrusts. “What a dirty little slut.”

Wonwoo keeps your mouth covered as he slowly fucks your cunt. All you can focus on is how stretched open your pussy feels. You keep whining and moaning as he bullies his cock into your fluttering hole. Even though they’re muffled, the cute little noises you’re making are driving Wonwoo closer to the edge.

“You’re so fucking tight, sweetheart.” Wonwoo groans. “Feels like you’ve never had a cock this big stuffing your little pussy.”

Wanting to hear you, he removes his hand.

You shake your head before you moan out an answer. “You’re the biggest—fuck—I’ve ever had.”

Wonwoo’s cock twitches inside you as he goes to cover your mouth with his. You two share a series of wet kisses between your filthy moans. His thick cock keeps rutting into your squelching pussy and slamming into the spongy spot inside your cunt that makes you keep tightening around him. At this point your mind has gone fuzzy. All you can think about is the man on top of you and the orgasm coiling in the pit of your stomach thanks to him.

In the haze of skin slapping together and the arousing scent of sex, Wonwoo feels like he’s found heaven. He’s absolutely thrilled to have you how he’s wanted since he first saw you. After months of planning, he finally has you trembling on his cock. Wonwoo groans lowly when you squeeze even tighter around him. You whine, moving your hips to meet his thrusts.

Wonwoo smirks when he sees your fucked out expression. He can’t care that his son is passed out downstairs while he’s quite literally fucking his sweet little girlfriend’s brains out. It’s what you deserved after all the hell his idiot spawn put you through.

“Looks like you’re already addicted to my cock, baby.” His laugh is so attractive that it makes your pussy flutter.

A deep pleasure shoots up your spine as Wonwoo fucks you hard and deep, plunging his cock into your sopping cunt. You cry out his name, feeling a pleasure you never have before. His hand moves between your bodies to flick and rub your sensitive clit.

“God, sweetheart. Fucking love how your sweet cunt squeezes my cock.” He groans in delight.

Wonwoo’s fingers keep rubbing your sensitive clit until your back arches off the bed. Wet slapping and loud squelching fills the room as the coil in your stomach abruptly snaps. Your legs clamp around his slim waist at the same time your cunt tightens around his dick, milking him for all he’s worth as your arousal gushes around his throbbing length.

“That’s it, baby. Milk this fucking cock.” Wonwoo growls as his hands spread you open even more. “Fuck. I’m gonna fill you with my cum and watch it spill out of your pretty pussy.”

You whine out, wanting nothing more. “Yes! Fill my pussy with your cum!”

Wonwoo growls into your skin, ramming his dick straight into your sweet spot until he reaches his own climax. With a loud moan of your name, he spills his hot cum inside your cunt. Thick ropes of his seed paint your walls as he keeps stuffing you full until it leaks out around his cock.

It feels like you’re stuck in a blissful haze, and it’s only until Wonwoo slowly pulls out of you that you come back to your senses. His eyes are dark as he watches his cum slowly drip out of you. It’s an erotic sight, you’re sure, and you can’t help but want more.

“Wonwoo.” Your voice comes out in a sigh. “Think you can go again?”

The older man groans in his throat. You’re insatiable, and so is he. Fuck. He knew you were perfect for him.

“For you? Always.”

Your eyes roll back when the bulbous tip of his length nudges your tender pussy. Wonwoo smirks and presses forward. His aching cock penetrates you in one deep thrust. Large hands hold down your squirming hips as he sheathes his big cock to the hilt. Wonwoo groans when your juices spill around his girth. He leans back and lets a string of spit falls straight onto your pussy. The filthy action makes you moan wantonly.

“Your sweet little cunt is driving me crazy, sweetheart.” Wonwoo hisses as you clench around him.

Your hot cunt is pulsing and soaking his cock as if you’re claiming it as your own. It makes him smirk. Wonwoo keeps pounding into your creamy cunt until only lewd squelching and pornographic moans fill the room. He can’t even think about his son anymore. All he cares about is splitting you open and molding your tight pussy to fit the shape of his dick.

“You just love this cock, don’t you, baby?” Wonwoo moans.

“I do—Fuck. Feels so fucking good!” Your voice is loud, and you’re both beyond the point of caring. “I love your cock. Love how you fuck my little pussy.”

His fat cock is splitting you open deliciously, weeping tip reaching your cervix with every strong pound of his hips. You’re already close again, and you know this next orgasm is going to be more intense than the last. Wonwoo seems to feel it too because he keeps driving his cock into you savagely until your thighs are trembling around him. His cock is piercing directly into your g-spot then drawing out, letting you feel every vein before plowing back into your sopping mess. His rough thrusts never lose their strength or depth. Not when you scream and convulse around his cock.

“God, you’re such a nasty slut.” Wonwoo groans. “You don’t even care that your boyfriend can wake up any moment and find you dripping all over his dad’s cock.”

You manage to smirk at him. “He has no right to be angry. Not when you’re fucking me better than he ever did.”

Wonwoo smirks back at you, thrusting deeper if possible. Your depraved words make a sick thrill shoot straight to his cock. It turns him on more than it should. Dark eyes are glued to your sopping cunt. The sight of you stretching to take his cock is so hot that he almost cums right then.

“Oh my god!” You cry out as your pulsing walls constrict around the dick ramming into you.

You let out a loud cry when Wonwoo’s spit lands where you two are connected. A guttural groan escapes him when your pussy squeezes his throbbing cock and your juices spill all over him. You topple over the edge he’s been pushing you toward, squirting all over his cock and abdomen. Your release covers him, dripping down his cock and to his heavy balls.

“Cum in me!” You plead loudly. “Stuff me full again!”

Wonwoo’s fat cock keeps sliding along your convulsing walls. The tip of his cock slams into your spot unrelentlessly, making you see stars. You keep falling apart as the older man uses your body how he wants.

“Just look at your pretty little pussy, squirting all over this cock like you own it.” Wonwoo’s grin looks wolfish and unfairly attractive. “Now I have to fill your slutty pussy like I own it.”

Wonwoo groans your name deeply. His hips are flush between your thighs as he presses to the hilt, his fat cockhead rutting into your most sensitive spot. Your toes curl tightly as you scream out his name once again. All you can see, feel, and think about is your boyfriend’s dad. His hot cum fills you up, coating every inch of your wet walls, stuffing you to the brim.

The older man falls forward a bit and buries his face in your neck, biting your sweaty skin and fucking his cum deeper into you. In your aroused daze, you can’t recognize how intoxicated he is over the feeling of you and your tight cunt.

When Wonwoo finally he pulls out, his hand lands on your tingling core. He cranes his neck to watch his fingers enter your hole. Licking his lips, he gently fucks his cum back inside you and gently toys with your messy pussy. Growls rumble in his chest as his cum slips out of you and down to your smaller puckered hole. The sight makes his cock twitch and ache all over again.

“My cute little slut.” Wonwoo coos as you slowly start to drift off to sleep. “All nice and bred—just like I’ve always dreamed.”

You look precious while you sleep, and Wonwoo can’t help but feel completely satisfied that he came inside you while you were ovulating. His son was such an idiot for not cherishing you how you deserved, but it was for the best.

Now you were all his. Only his.

[cordeliawhohung]

Don't really have any experience at all with anything omegaverse related but I've got big alpha!Gaz x omega!Reader thoughts...

cw: minor smut, knotting?

Everyone thinks he's a Beta because of the hormone suppressants. Kyle Garrick is always level headed. Cheeky with a silver tongue, of course, but no one has ever heard of him truly lashing out. Really, Kyle hates it. The hormones, going into rut, all of it. He wants to be able to walk by people and not be overwhelmed by their scent, so he plays it off and takes the medication in secret; Price being the only one privy to his habits. His work requires him to be at his best, and the suppressants get him there.

Things change when the main offices hires a cute new secretary.

Cute thing you are in your ironed button up blouse and neatly pressed pinstripe skirt. Proper and professional as you handle paperwork; unclaimed by an alpha. You shouldn't be different from anyone else Kyle's come into contact with, omega or otherwise, yet you are. There's something about your scent that burrows into his skin, makes it tingle and burn as if you've set it on fire. You smile so sweetly at him as you take the report from his hands, and he has to fight the urge to vault the desk you sit at.

Chalking it up to a late dose of his suppressants, he pushes it out of his mind the best he can but he only spirals. They don't seem to work as well whenever he's around you. He's never smelled anything as sweet as you, be it flower or food, and he feels his heart become overwhelmed with an untamed concupiscence. He finds every excuse to visit you. To talk to you. To hear your voice. He prays that you don't notice the way his nostrils flare whenever you're nearby.

Price notices the change in him immediately. His sergeant's mind isn't as clear as it usually is, and he's getting frustrated over trivial things he previously would never bat an eye at. Smells his incoming rut despite his best efforts at allaying it. Price sends him away with a wave of his hand. Tells Kyle he can only run away from his nature for so long, and that he better make good use of his hand for the next few days as he weens himself off his suppressants.

Kyle's never experienced a surge like this before. Nothing but pure frustration. Suffering through the throes of his rut with his skin slick with sweat as he writhes in bed dreaming of someone. Dreaming of you. Some soft omega sweet enough to help him during such a difficult time. He drowns in the illusion of you as he fucks his own hand until he swears he can smell you. That subtle silage... it seems to seep through the crack beneath his apartment door to haunt him like an apparition.

Doesn't realize it's actually you until you knock. Kyle knows better than to open the door, but he's not in his right mind. He convinces himself he can be polite. Tell you to stay far away from him until he's better and that he'll see you at work in a week or so. When he opens the door to enact his plan, he finds you with a small gift basket of medicine; as if you were truly convinced he was only sick.

After all, everyone thinks he's a beta.

Overwhelmed with the scent of him, your gift basket clatters to the ground as you cover your nose. He reeks. It's so strong you feel weak in your knees. Like he's sucked the very breath from your lungs.

There's no stopping what happens next after that. Nature always wins in the end. Besides, a sopping wet cunt is the only type of medicine that can cure Kyle's ailment anyway, and you're sweet enough to provide such a treatment. Face pressed into his pillow, soaking up the aroma of him, you're singing for him. Could never dream about complaining about the ecstasy you're filled with after every needy thrust of his cock. You were close to your heat anyway. Really, this is just as good for you as it is for him.

And as Kyle slips his knot inside of you, pinning your hips firmly against the mattress, he wonders how he ever went without this. Without you. Without some sweet thing to fatten up with his kids. He'll make sure you're waiting for him at home after every deployment. That the soft flesh in the crook of your neck is marked to the shape of his teeth soon enough.

For now, he'll worry about using you to fuck his rut out. He can worry about formalities when his head is clear.

[grislyintentions]

| Open Starter |

Other starters: (x)

Evening paints the skies in warm hues as the sun slowly dips below the horizon. Activity amidst the city matches that of the landscape, excitable buzz of everyday life easing into quiet chatter as one by one, the citizens return to the comforting shelter of their homes.

Was it then a divine blessing or great misfortune for the tell-tale footfalls of an incoming sumpter beast's approach to introduce itself to the city's entrance then?

Proximity yielded concerning factors: This sumpter beast is not of the rainforest. Unlike the shaggy haired creatures, this one came equipped with a hard carapace, indicative of it's acclimation to a dryer climate. Evidence of agitation can be seen by the way it restlessly calls and scrapes at the soil, as though attempting to get the attention of any passers by in the area.

Should one be brave enough to approach, they will be greeted by the sight of something strapped firmly onto it's back, covered by darkened cloth. Further investigation will reveal a limp hand, hanging off the beast's side and faint specks of blood trailing on the ground.

It is evident that whomever had been under those covers needed assistance. Badly.

[konigsblog]

thinkin' about this, with könig.

tw/cw; (🌽 link), overstimulation, dom!reader, degrading & shaming, gn!reader. 🔞

synopsis; overstimulating könig with a vibrator tied against his lengthy cock.

photo credits; @glutt_r on x/twitter

usually, könig prefers to have complete and utter dominance and control when it comes to your sex life. it stems from being a colonel and being in charge pretty often, making important and sensible decisions for his team to move forward with their plans. although occasionally, könig wants to be your little plaything and to be used for your own sickening enjoyment and satisfaction.

“don’t be too cruel now that i’m allowing you to have power, ja?” könig chuckles quietly and hoarsely. he's aware that he can tease you, deny your orgasm or force it out of you, but right now, he's hoping for forgiveness and you're looking for revenge, an excuse to give könig the same intense, agonising ecstasy. he's not prepared for what he'll go through, how sensitive he'll become under your gaze and at your wrath.

you tape a vibrator against his weeping, aching shaft while he complains about being so pent up from his lengthy deployment and the loss of your sweet, gummy cunt around his hard, stiff length. the tip of his hung, thick cock is already creamy with orbs of his around running down his thick, veiny shaft.

you lean back, admiring the sight of könig; his wrists are tied together with rope—that'll be easy to break free from, or at least for könig—and a vibrator is held against his lengthy dick. your thumb hovers over the sensitivity button on the control for the vibrator, turning it up halfway and watching as his large, strong body twitches and convulses with euphoria and shock, the vibrations sending shivers down könig's spine and the ache between his muscular thighs only worsening and intensifying as his orgasm is nearly ripped from him.

the hair on the back of his neck stands up at the waves of pleasure rushing through his brute, well-built body, unable to control the guttural noises that come from deep in his throat. you admire the state of könig, the mess he's managed to get himself into by trusting that you'll be gentle. his eyebrows are furrowed together with frustration as he attempts to hold his orgasm back as it nearly tips over the edge, with his boner slick and swollen with pleasure and stimulation. the head of könig's dick is extremely sensitive to the slightest touch. if you roll your thumb over his creamy, overstimulated tip, könig will growl out in a mixture of agony and blissfulness with his core tightening and his head thrown back, attempting to stabilise his laborious breathing through dizziness.

“heilige scheiße! you really are a filthy tease, aren’t you? i’m starting to wonder if this wasn’t a good idea, mäusi.” he heaves out through sharp breaths, his lengthy dick still twitching while he prepares himself to endure your cruel, depraved treatment.

könig looks dishevelled and rough with his breathing uncontrollably fast and the sensation of the vibrator against his sensitive shaft leaving his heavy balls tight and full. you turn it up a notch unexpectedly, watching as könig begins to shake, attempting to buck his broad and sturdy hips skyward to no avail as he squirms around, gritting his teeth to hold back the string of german cursing nearly slipping through his lips. his wrists are still held together while he stares down at his swollen, leaking crotch. he's desperate to feel the softness of your hands against his weeping boner, to soothe the problems that you've caused.

you're having too much fun taunting könig and having total control over his pleasure, what he receives and what he doesn't.

könig looks as if he's in dire need for his orgasm with his body shaking and his cock throbbing and twitching against the sex toy, the vibrations leaving the head of his fat, thick cock sticky and creamy. globs of his hot, creamy semen begin to seep out while könig attempts to prepare himself for another level of sensitivity; the highest sensitivity level. it's intense and nothing but torture to his aching dick and könig isn't able to control himself.

white, pearly strings of his hot creaminess shoot from the tip of his puffy cock. he throws his head backwards and grunts out hoarsely through strained breathing, his whole body tense and his muscles strained. könig has to attempt to hold back the tears that begin to brim in his waterline from overstimulation while glaring at you for being so unforgiving with his release and pleasure, not showing him any mercy.

as soon as you turn that vibrator off, könig won't hesitate to break free from the rope binding his wrists, to give you a taste of your own medicine.

[stxrslut]

cw : based on this, severe hunger, reader taking care of jj, mentions of struggles with money, kook!reader. this blurb obviously contains sensitive topics, I stress that this is in no way to make fun of or undermine these struggles, I know first hand how bad it can get. this is simply something I imagined, and wish to share.

“jj you’re shakin’,” you note, looking up from your positon against his chest, “whats wrong?” you ask.

he looks down, eyes half lidded, “huh? didn’t catch that baby.” he murmurs, words almost slurred together. you furrow your eyebrows. soemthing is wrong.

“I said you’re shakin’,” you repeat, “you don’t look too good either.” you frown, sitting up now and reaching to feel his forehead. “when was the last time you ate?”you inquire, not quite expecting the answer.

he shrugs, “couple days ago.. dunno, maybe last week.” he murmurs, trying to lay back down. you can’t help but let out a little gasp.

“jj.. it’s thursday.”you stress, face all twisted in concern for your boyfriend who is clearly starving.

he frowns, “yeah, what about it?” he speaks, tone becoming irritable. though you can’t bring yourself to be mad, you’re just worried.

“if you haven’t eaten since last week that means its been at least four days,” you look down, he doesn’t seem even the slightest bit concerned for himself. “that isnt healthy jayj, why haven’t you eaten?”

“take a wild guess sweetheart,” he sarks, “or even better, take one look in the cupboards. you think i starve myself for fun?” he raises an eyebrow, letting out another irritated sigh when you don’t answer.

“I told you to just ask me if you needed money, you can’t just go without food!” you speak exasperatedly, he always does this, refuses to let you give him anything under the pretenses of not wanting to be a 'charity case'.

“don’t need your pity money, f’you wanna do all that fuss ‘bout what’s healthy n’ what’s not then you can leave, m’tired enough as it is.” he speaks, again in that annoyed spitting tone, but you can’t blame him. he must be uncomfortable.

you huff and stand up, knowing he won’t listen right now. you turn to leave, “ill see you later jj.” you speak before going out the door.

he might have thought ‘later’ meant in a few days, but no, you’re going back today. you just have some stuff you need to do first.

you know jj has the means to cook food, and you know he has the means to store it too. he just doesn’t have the actual food. your plan is to go and cook up batches of as much you can, stock up his freezer enough to last him if he needs to go without food again. maybe he won’t take your money, but you’re not going to let him refuse this.

once you’re home you spend hours cooking. you make easy comfort meals like soups and stews. you prepare pasta sauces and some pastry pies. a couple of sweet treats as well. once you’re done theres enough food to last him at least a month by itself.

you pack everything into containers, all ready to store in the freezer. you put a few portions of rice and sauce aside, knowing he’ll need to eat plenty tonight, and that it might take him a few tries to be able to keep it down.

you show up to his house late. when he opens the door to see you he huffs out of irritation, already guessing what it is, “told you not to go buyin’ me stuff.”

you frown, letting yourself in, “didn’t buy it, I made it.” you smile, placing the bags of food up on the counter. but he doesn’t speak. “c'mon jj,” you sigh, “you know I don’t think you’re a charity case, I just want you to be healthy.”

he sighs, “i know you do... just feels like too much y’know, like i dont deserve all this.” he looks down as he gestures towards the food, speaking quietly, self conciously.

“jj,” you frown, “this isn’t special treatment baby, this is basic human needs. of course you deserve food, everyone deserves food.” you come up to him to give him a hug. “don’t ever wanna hear you sayin’ you dont deserve this.”

jj chuckles shakily, finally returning your caring touch, “what would I ever do without you huh?”

[ssahotchnerr]

Mom!friend reader bringing everyone cute lunches at the bau with personalized little notes for each person 😭 maybe hotch doesn’t even know that you do this for the others too so when someone mentions readers cooking, he’s like “wat”

personalized

ADORABLE cw; bau!fem!reader, established relationship, mentions of food, fluff and aaron being cute <3

the pace at which aaron was moving must've been more intense than he intended and realized; as he hurried past jj's desk, the small draft that followed caused a small piece of paper to flutter to the ground.

uttering an apology, aaron immediately reached down to pick it up. however it had landed face up, and his eyebrows furrowed in small confusion as he caught a glimpse of its contents.

your familiar handwriting kept his eyes, instead of peering away as he normally would - 'my sweet jj! thank you so much for your help on the arizona case file, you're a total lifesaver and your expertise is always appreciated, hope you know that. enjoy <3 ps - your new lavender sweater is the cutest. must plan a shopping day w/ pen soon!'

aaron's eyebrows stayed in that confused line, his eyes shifting up to jj's in a silent question.

"came with the cookies." jj answered for him, pointing her head towards the tupperware container perched on her desktop.

instantly aaron's mind made the connection - so that's why you were up late baking. that made more sense; the time you had spent baking was much too long for the small plateful quantity he had found reserved for him and jack this morning.

"pretty girl sure knows how to cook." derek added into the conversation as he approached the cluster of desks, raising his hand to pat aaron on the back but stopped himself halfway - aaron shot him a pointed look, hiding his own amusement, while jj attempted to conceal her smile with her palm.

another eyebrow furrow. "and when have you had her cooking?"

"here and there. always comes with a note too. i could just about fill a desk drawer with how many i have." derek admitted, with his signature, vivid grin. "she may be yours, we get special treatment too, y'know."

a bit later, you strolled into aaron's office, juggling numerous files in your hands.

"as requested," you started, dropping them firmly onto aaron's desk. "five action reports, minus dave's. he told me when you're as experienced and italian as he is, you can slack off and kinda get away with it. but i think that's his fancy way of admitting he's old." you joked with a eye roll.

"thank you," aaron flashed you a smile, sorting through his current papers. assuming that was all, you spun on your heel to head out and return to the everlasting joy of paperwork, but, aaron's voice stopped you.

"hey hold it, c'mere a sec."

you pulled back one of the chairs in front of hiss desk, the legs producing a scraping noise against the floorboards, but aaron gestured for you to come around. your eyes darted in the direction of his open blinds, then back at him. 'you sure?'

aaron nodded in confirmation. and if you needed any more convincing, once in reach you were pulled onto his lap, his hold on you tight.

if he wasn't being a stickler on the open affection, neither were you; you relaxed yourself against him just as you would normally, your body melting into his and throwing your arms loosely around his neck. "what's up?"

"i didn't know you wrote the team notes."

"oh," you laughed softly, with a light shake of your head. by habit your fingers ran along the skin of aaron's neck, scratching the nape of his hair gently. "yeah, if i bring in lunch or a treat or something. or both. or sometimes just because. an appreciation reminder."

aaron nodded, his fingers drumming against your hip comfortably.

"that's not a problem, is it?"

"well," aaron pretended to think, his hand changing motions and sliding up and down your side, "yes."

"actually?" you blurted as your own fingers paused. that wasn't the answer you expected, and it caused a rush of nervous heat to pool within you. until, you saw the feigned, solemn expression on his face.

aaron peered down at you, his playful eyes canceling out the forced pout on his lips. under his breath, he mumbled humorously, "i thought i was the only one getting notes."

you laughed brightly, the joy within the sound immediately bringing a smile to aaron's lips. "oh don't worry, they don't get the lipstick smooch on theirs. that's reserved for you and you only."

"i would hope not."

"or the, occasional... explicitness."

"again, i would hope not." aaron laughed again. his lips graced your temple, lingering gently as he spoke, "you're sweet."

"a very wise, very attractive person once said, 'people need to know they're important'." your lips quirked into a loving smile, a glint in your eyes. "thought this would be an easy way - i learned from the best."

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Multitudes Chapter Six ... And Prodded, And Poked.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov/Steve Rogers

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> Nat shows compliance in her treatment plan - but is she really as pliable as the team is led to believe?

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 3295

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) injury detail and SH, discussions of weight gain and treatment plans, unhealthy exercise habits

𝐀/𝐍 -> Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Please read the warnings, and proceed with caution. Check it out below, or on AO3 here!

This snazzy divider comes from @firefly-graphics and I love it <3

<- Previous Chapter (5/72) Next Chapter (7/72) ->

I stirred against the beginnings of light, rolling my stiff jaw from having ground my teeth in my sleep, and bolting upright at the semi-familiar, but distinctly not-mine, surroundings.

Clint groaned under me, and I fought to calm my ragged breath as awareness dawned, flashes of images from the night before flickering before my eyes.

That’s right – I agree with your horrified revelation, The Voice noted, almost gleeful at the panic coursing through my veins. You took the coward’s way out, because you knew you weren’t strong enough to meet their standards.

I just wanted help, I argued weakly, dispassionately.

You wanted an excuse to stop pushing yourself, it sneered. You knew you’d never be good enough, so you quit. Coward. Fucking useless.

I’m not a coward.

Prove it. Punish yourself – three new lines in that dirty flesh – and then run. Get rid of everything you stuffed in your fat face yesterday.

I don’t want to… I whined, but it felt more like courtesy than protest, and it knew that.

Move. Now.

With a bone weary sigh, I slid from the spot where I’d passed out on the sofa, nestled against Clint’s chest to the background of an animated movie, letting the steady, unflappable rhythm of his heart act as my lullaby.

The archer stirred again, flopping an arm back over his eyes to shield the worst of the sunlight from his gaze, his other hand reaching for me blindly. “Nat?” he mumbled, and I caught his fingers with mine as I straightened, thumb brushing his palm reassuringly. He lowered his arm just enough to glance at me, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Where are you going?”

Shower. Change. I smell like a gym sock, I added, a fake sniff and the curl of a lip employed to sell my act. He nodded tiredly, jaw creaking in an impressive yawn.

“Ok. I’ll do the same, and see you in a little while.”

I ducked from his quarters on the balls of my feet, his soft snores quickly punctuating the silence once more, and a grin graced my lips. In his exhaustion, he had seemingly forgotten that I wasn’t exactly trusted to be alone, and I found myself taking advantage of the situation with very little guilt.

A good start. But you have a lot to make up for, and likely not a lot of time to do it in. Get moving.

I bypassed my own rooms in favour of the armoury, disconnected from the main building and with less chance of being caught when Clint realised his blunder.

Luckily, I’d been doing this for a long time without getting caught.

My own blades were sharpened to perfection, and there was a constant supply of first aid that I could utilise without suspicion. It’s always good to have a back-up option, I mused, sliding a dagger from its sheath with a whispered hush of metal on leather.

Are you proud of this? The Voice snapped, and I winced as I pulled my sweatshirt over my head.

I- No, I-

Four. An extra one for your insolence. Who do you think you are? You are nothing. I nodded, dropping to my knees and pressing the blade to the soft skin between my ribs – even I knew that my arms were not an option anymore. Say it.

“I’m nothing,” I whispered, beads of blood bubbling around the sharp steel.

Deep. Long. No mercy. You’ve got to be stronger now. Harder.

I nodded again, strengthening my resolve, the tremble fading from my fingers as adrenaline zinged.

Tell me why.

“Bruce is disgusted by me,” I gasped, the knife slipping between the spaces in my ribs as I dragged it forward. “Everyone is disgusted by me.”

Correct.

“Clint. He… He remembers. He remembers everything, and he pities me. I told him about you – about wanting to go home. I shouldn’t have done that.” I hissed as the blade bit muscle in the second space, slicing through as easily as butter.

Correct.

“I-I was insolent. I shouldn’t have – ah! – been proud of myself. I’m only as good as you make me!” My voice was almost a cry now, the third cut deeper than its predecessors.

Correct. And your fourth failure, Widow Romanova?

My head pulsated in pain, breaths coming in short, sharp pants. “I-I… I should never have thought you were wrong. You know best, I see that now. Only you want what’s best for me.” My uninjured hand was slick with blood and aching from pressing in as I finished the fourth cut, crimson rivers carving tracks down my side and settling into the waistband of my jogging bottoms.

Incorrect. Again.

I whimpered, arms heavy. “I… Should not have refused to speak. Widows obey orders.” It was a shot in the dark, and I held my breath painfully after the fifth slice – further, unspoken punishment for my wrongdoing.

If I can’t even tell where I’m fucking up, what hope do I have?

Incorrect. Again.

I sobbed once, shaking hands fighting against contracting muscles as I struggled to raise the knife. “I-I… I sh-shouldn’t have cursed at you. W-Widows are supposed to be w-women of class!” The last words came as a yowl as I jerked my arms forward, the blade grating bone in an agonising explosion of stars, the slick handle spilling from my fingers as they moved desperately to attempt to stem the flow.

Correct. Now, Natalia… Are you ready to train?

By the time I stumbled into my shower, tears flowing freely down my face, the world was spinning under my feet from exhaustion and blood loss. I’d been denied medical care, and I could see the darkness tunnelling my vision, but I pushed myself through a bout of one-handed boxing regardless. The Voice chastised me mercilessly, repeating the drill over and over until my muscles were screaming as sweat mixed with the blood staining my clothes. I’d been forced to duck back through the compound, avoiding both cameras and Avengers in my bid to not get caught in such a state; if I had, it would surely be over for me.

The water burnt my exposed muscles, but fear held me still, shaking despite the heat. I didn’t dare move away without a direct order, for fear of more punishment. If there were any consequences to come of getting so much water in my wounds, then so be it; no effect could be worse than the reparations of The Voice.

I regret ever opening my mouth.

That’s good, it replied smoothly, something akin to a smile laced into its words. You’re learning.

I nodded once, my clenched jaw beginning to ache in an effort to suppress my trembles of pain, but too afraid to ask to leave. … Good, Romanova. Now go and dress. It wouldn’t do to have you caught again.

I was covered only on my top half as the remnants of the door slammed against the wall, almost sending me sprawling as I fought to one-handedly wriggle my way into some sweatpants.

Show no fear. You are better than these so-called ‘heroes’.

I straightened immediately, barely supressing a whimper and a wince at the pain that blazed across my ribcage.

Clint met my gaze, his eyes wide and wild with concern. “I-I… I looked everywhere for you. When I realised. I should never have…”

A polite smile graced my lips, and I tipped my head slightly. “I went to the kitchen first. I was hungry, so I got a snack before I showered. I’m sorry, I should have told you.”

Good.

Briefly, a doubtful furrow creased his brow, until he shook his head, replacing the expression with a broad grin. “That’s fine, Nat. I’m so proud of you. What did you have?"

I panicked at that, scanning internally through the contents of the kitchen – but it had been a long time since I’d actively sought out food.

Faster.

“Cereal,” I offered quickly, my smile only marginally slipping as I blurted out the first answer that came to my mind.

He nodded encouragingly, moving closer. “That’s amazing, Natasha. Well done.”

I pretended to gush under his gaze, ducking my head shyly. “It’s no big deal. I just wanted to start strongly.”

Very good, Natalia. His emotions will make him weak.

“Do you want a hand with that?” he offered suddenly, gesturing at the sweatpants still halfway up my bare thighs.

Let him do as he wishes.

It felt cruel, and I didn’t understand – wasn’t it only yesterday that The Voice had been telling me how dangerous Clint was? – but I nodded obligingly, permitting my partner to step forward, dropping to his knees before me.

He hands brushed my flesh gently as he aided me, resting lightly on one hipbone as he straightened. His warm touch made my skin burn with terror and arousal in equal measure.

“… There,” he murmured, stepping back, my blood mourning the loss of him. “All situated.”

I nodded again, inclining my head politely. “Thank you, Clint.”

He grinned in response, reaching up to tousle my damp hair, before his face grew serious. “Bruce dropped off the treatment plan this morning. Shall we take a look?”

Agree. You must seem compliant. You have made them suspicious, and you need to neutralise that threat.

“Of course,” I agreed smoothly, despite my heart beating faster in terror. “I can’t wait to get started.”

I found myself sat once more on Clint’s sofa before I acknowledged the movement, lost in listening to The Voice as we traversed the halls, only offering light grunts of affirmation in response to my partner’s chatter. I was receiving a rapid crash course in how to proceed as we made our way, but The Voice fell silent as I sat.

This is your test. It would do you well to succeed, it instructed simply, before the words stopped flowing, and I knew that I would hear nothing more until this harrowing experience was over.

Clint tapped the slender, magnolia file with a single finger, watching me carefully. “This… This is likely going to be difficult to hear, Nat. But everything is for your own good, I promise.”

I simply nodded in response, unwilling to act until the path before me was evident.

I can’t afford to fail again, I noted, the spaces between my ribs burning and oozing with every breath. I may not survive it.

The file opened, and Clint cleared his throat in preparation. “Would you rather read it yourself, or I can do it for you?”

“It’s okay, you can read it,” I answered easily, forcing a light and casual tone. His eyebrow twitched in suspicion, and I cursed myself internally. Don’t be too light-hearted. He’ll know you’re faking it.

His gaze flicked back down, tongue touching his lip before he began. “’Most conditions herein are dependent upon several metrics of progress. Natasha will be weighed daily, in only a gown, after being subjected to a pat-down to ensure there is no added weight. Blood tests will be done weekly to analyse important levels and clarify any improvements found. There will also be body checks to monitor self-injury.’”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from retorting, furious at the invasive measures – but The Voice had indicated that such things were to be expected. “I understand,” I ground out after a moment, my inflection a perfect mask of indifference.

Clint watched me closer, shuffling nearer until our knees touched. “Is that ok with you? It seems like signs of improvement means increased privilege, though… That’s good, right?”

I nodded again, my body stilling as his hand found my knee. We haven’t covered this. What do I do?

There was no response – of course there wasn’t – and so I simply stayed still, following The Voice’s last teachings on the matter. ‘Let him do as he wishes.’

“I’ll, uh… I’ll just read the highlights, okay? A lot of it is about levels and moving forward, but… I guess that’s not quite where we are yet, right?” he chuckled uncertainly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, glancing at me when I offered no verbal response and finding me nodding. “Okay, uh… Basically, it seems like you can’t exercise, or be alone, until you’re off what Bruce has called ‘level one’. In this level, you’ll not be allowed to eat alone, and you’ll be searched after eating. You, um… Yeah. You also need to share accommodation, and attend therapy once a week. But it’s only 5 pounds, and a week without self-harm, until you can move up to level two. Then you can start to exercise a little, make some of your own meals, and spend the night in your own bed. That’ll be nice, huh?”

Clint met my gaze with a hopeful smile, and I buried the subtle urge to tell him everything that had happened during the course of the morning. I can’t. I won’t… It’s not worth it. “That sounds okay,” I responded at a mumble, scuffing my bare toes against the rug. Nothing about bathrooms. Purging is still an option. It’s not ideal, but… Depending on how closely they watch me, it might be my only choice.

“Bruce has already removed all sharp objects and scales from the common areas, and your room,” Clint added, and I couldn’t help the flash of anger that shone in my eyes as they jerked to him in annoyance, causing him to bring his hands up defensively. “I know. I tried to tell him it wouldn’t be necessary – you’re already making steps toward talking about things, and I have all the faith in the world that you’ll make it through this. But he insisted,” he noted, rolling his eyes with a sigh, “so I guess we’ll just have to go with it for now.”

I shrugged one shoulder in irritation, but nodded again. I had several blades stashes; it was unlikely that the doctor had found them all. I could probably find some scales somewhere – but if I couldn’t, measurements would suffice as a metric.

“Does that all sound okay?” Clint prompted.

“It sounds… Manageable,” I replied hesitantly, still reluctant to lie to my long-time partner but unable to tell him the whole truth. He grinned reassuringly, nudging me with his shoulder.

“I’m so proud you, Nat. You’re doing so well.”

I found myself once more in Bruce’s medical room, shivering in a paper gown as the doctor examined my arms and legs uncertainly.

“No evidence of further injury,” he murmured, making a note on a chart. I resisted the urge to grin, profoundly aware of the throbbing of my ribs under the thin weave. “You ready to pop on the scales?”

I nodded, sliding to my feet. Today was the only day in which I wouldn’t have to worry about my weight; they wouldn’t be expecting much to change in one day, right? I went to cross to where he weighed me last time, but Bruce’s hand, gentle on my wrist, stopped me. “We… You need to be patted down first. Weights, and so on.”

Or you’re not so disgusted anymore, huh, Doc? I quipped internally. But on the outside, I smiled.

“No problem, Bruce,” I replied smoothly, raising my hands to the back of my head compliantly, revelling in the searing of my ribcage as the wounds gaped. The only thing I could find enough effort to be concerned about would be the risk of bleeding; the thin fabric would offer no reprieve. His throat bobbed uncertainly, and I offered him a reassuring smile. “Are you sure you’re able to do this, Doc?”

His jaw set and he nodded once, moving to stand before me; starting easily, his hands slid their way across my shoulders, the firm pressure reducing slightly as he brushed his fingers over my bandage. I resisted the urge to flinch, and he apologised under his breath, meeting my eyes briefly.

His hands probed under the edges of my sleeves, checking for straps or tape, before beginning to skim down my sides, and I couldn’t help but shift slightly in discomfort as the ridges of his fingers found the canyons between my ribs. He paused at my motion, waiting for me to still once more before gently probing the area. I fought to remain impassive, struggling against the scream building in my throat, and the tears building in my eyes. Another hesitation, then he mercifully moved on, palms catching on the edge of my hipbone, smoothing the skin he found there to clarify that it was an organic bump, before working his way to the lower hem of my gown.

He cleared his throat, evidently uncomfortable. “Do you give consent for me to check your thighs?” he asked, looking away, a flush crawling up his throat. “I can fetch someone else if you would prefer.”

I chuckled fondly, shaking my head – safe now, without his hands on my cuts. “Go ahead, Bruce.”

His palms were softer than I expected as they trailed up the soft skin, taking each thigh in turn, moving past the soft swell of fat and pausing where they started to taper once more.

He straightened with a jerk, his face aflame. “Good. Thank you. You can step onto the scales now. Facing away, please,” he added, making my feet stutter, teeth gritting as I rotated on the spot.

“Why?” I probed, fighting to keep the venom from my voice. “There was nothing about this in my treatment plan.”

Bruce cocked his head, brow furrowed. “I informed Clint that I had removed all scales, barring my own, from the compound, and the reasoning behind this. Did he not explain?”

I shook my head fiercely. “How am I supposed to track my improvement if I don’t know what I weigh?”

“I’ll have it right here,” he replied, his voice a false attempt at reassurance as he tapped his clipboard gently. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you know when you get more privileges.”

Unless they lie, to keep you fat and docile.

I winced as The Voice spoke again, sudden in the silence I’d begun to grow used to.

“If I know when I meet the thresholds anyway, it doesn’t make sense to keep the information from me,” I argued vehemently. He simply shrugged, moving to glance at the screen behind me.

“We thought it best this way. That way, you won’t be influenced by the number.”

No, we’ll just continue to aim toward weight loss. The number doesn’t matter – the effect does. I thought you were smarter than that, Bruce. What do you see in him?

I don’t know, I replied reluctantly, giving the answer I knew it expected, pushing away thoughts of the doctor’s kind eyes and kinder actions. And, crucically, the fact that he saw something in me.

I shrugged in response to Bruce’s comment, stepping off the scale when he motioned me forward. “Okay… We don’t need bloods again yet – yesterday’s will be your baseline. So that’s it for today.”

“I’m free to go? I clarified, shimming my legs into my sweatpants without waiting for an answer. He nodded as he turned obligingly, leaving me free to strip off the paper gown and reapply my bra and sweatshirt, wincing as I pulled the latter over my head.

“Clint is outside. He’s the first of your companions for today.”

I stilled as I was straightening my hem, looking up in alarm.

“My companions?”

Bruce nodded again, still looking away. “Yes, Natasha. The treatment plan clearly states that while you are on level one, you aren’t to be alone. The team have assembled a rota for the next couple of weeks, to start with.”

“Пиздец,” I muttered under my breath, cursing this ridiculous turn of events. “Fine. Whatever.”

Bruce began to turn as I stomped away, the lab door slamming in my wake.

[ddejavvu]

hi hi honestly love your work to death truly! it’s absolutely amazing. i was thinking about deadpool (he’s the loml, think about him daily) but imagine shutting him up by riding his face. feel like he’d still find a way to talk but yeah. no pressure! MWAH!

this post is 18+, minors dni.

cw for impact play (?), reader slaps him, lots of degradation towards wade

It's somewhere between Wade's sixtieth and sixty-first quip of the night, something inside of you snaps and your hand connects roughly to his masked face.

"Fuck, do you ever shut up?" You waste no time in bunching your hand into the fabric of his mask, nails scraping painfully against his nose though the mask doesn't budge. He yelps, either in pain, surprise, or some lustful mixture of the two, and you drag his face sideways so that you can shove him down onto the mattress.

"Woah, usually I have to pay extra for this treatment," Wade jokes, and your desire to shut him up has you straddling his face roughly- no warning, no mercy. Your sex presses hot and heavy against his mask, and you can already feel his tongue scraping desperately against the fabric that separates your skin from his.

"You're so fucking annoying," You seethe, keeping a hand on his head while you begin grinding your hips over his face, paying particular attention to his mouth and nose so that he can't speak, "If I have to hear one more of your stupid, shitty frat jokes, I'll spear myself with your sword."

"I was planning on-" Wade's voice chokes out as you squeeze your legs together, but he stutters out the remaining syllables, "Spearing you with my sword already, hot stuff."

"You're not." You grind roughly against his face, nearly smothering him, "Fucking." Another roll of your hips, more writhing as Wade attempts to access your warm, wet cunt, "Funny. You're a loser. You're fucking lucky you're getting this close to my pussy, and you're wasting the time reciting a dad joke book that kids get for Father's Day when they can't be bothered to find out what their dad actually likes."

"You're- right." Wade grits, greedy hands grabbing for your ass as you ride his face, "Never liked my dad. Got him three copies of those things over the years. He did not appreciate the one about the-"

"I'm gonna fucking kill you," You vow, rage in your voice as brutal as the way your hips smother his face, "I'm gonna choke you, and I'm gonna leave your useless body in a pig pen- they don't leave evidence. They'll tear you apart in seconds."

"Call that a- agh! Colla-boar-ation," Wade gasps, fighting for air as your thighs grip his head tightly, "Page 74 in the book!"

[satosugusandwich]

His Angel and His Brat

Part 1!!! Part 2

Hard!Dom!Geto x Brat!Gojo x obedient!afab!reader

(I also try to write my fics to be racially ambiguous! No mention of skin tone or hair type!)

Summary: Gojo is a mega-brat to y/n and Suguru and likes to push buttons cuz he can so Suguru decides to overstimulate Gojo until he thinks he’s broken. (Key word: thinks.) To add to Gojo’s humiliation, he ensures that the reader is getting princess treatment while watching Gojo suffer endlessly. But, of course, things don’t always go as planned with Satoru Gojo.

CW and whatnots: Overstimulation, vibrators, cuffs, finger sucking, condescending!geto, usage of the word “cock”, gojo’s boundless stamina and cocky attitude, anal play, cum licking (off the floor and gojos pp) praise, cocksucking, angel ass reader that ends up in trouble cuz gojo can’t shut his mouth, geto is actually so mean to gojo but so soft cuz he’s actually a teddy bear dw. Use of “brat, princess, angel.” There will be aftercare in future parts cuz imagine leaving pathetic satoru a cum drenched mess. Poor baby. :(((

There will be additional tags in future parts. This is how I cope with ch 236.

Suguru runs his thumb along your bottom lip, licking his own lips while you whimper. Your pretty eyes fixated on his blushing face and half-lidded eyes. He looks at you with so much lust and is so gentle with you, just so in love with how much you please him and how willing you are to do what he wants. You eagerly await him and his orders, always ready to obey.

But.

“Suguru!”

Satoru’s cry makes his face go from pure admiration to utterly sadistic. “Satoru.” He says, looking at the man to the right of you, the same man that’s panting and whining as the vibrator in his tight hole runs relentlessly. “Jealously doesn’t look very good on you.” He grins and hits a button on the small remote he holds in his hand that isn’t occupied with your mouth.

“Fuck—FUCK!” Satoru’s eyes clench shut, the whirring sound coming from his bottom getting faster and bit more high pitched. You’re grateful you aren’t in his position, you don’t know if you could handle Suguru having full control of how much pleasure you get to feel. Especially if that pleasure is ongoing… and nonstop.

Satoru looked unusually pathetic and… weak. It’s insane to think that the so called strongest sorcerer, the cocky, the arrogant, the man on top, bends to the will of his pretty best friend. Suguru’s change in character comes as a shock too. The sweet, soft-spoken, gentle, and empathetic sorcerer is now grinning down at his partner, showing no mercy, no kindness, and is only sending Satoru into deeper throes of overwhelming pleasure. You almost didn’t want to look at Satoru, what if Suguru surmised you wanted the same treatment. Would he show you mercy?

“Now, now,” Suguru muses, “if you can beg me properly, I’ll stop your torment. And of course you’ll need to apologize to Y/n and I for being such an impatient little shit.” He chuckles softly and withdraws his thumb from your mouth. “She’s being so well-behaved while you whine and whine and cry and cry about how much it is.” He mocks him, furrowing his eyebrows together in a false pity. “I suppose I should expect it, after all, you’ve cum how many times? That pressure against—“ Suguru crouches as he speaks “—your prostate—“ he runs the tip of his fingers up Satoru’s base “—it’s been nonstop for 30 minutes now.”

You can’t help but watch as Suguru’s hand starts to stroke Satoru now, giving expert attention to his neglected yet tortured cock. Suguru notices how you eyeball his actions and can’t help but smile wider.

“Ah, do you feel left out?” His false pity changes back to his gentle expression. “It’s alright, princess, why don’t you show Satoru how impressed you are with his stamina. Give him a little reward?”

Suguru is evil.

“I don’t think he could take it, Sugu.” You answer honestly.

He looks a bit disappointed but he relents his ministrations. “I suppose you’re right. But he still owes us an apology before his punishment ends.”

You nod and meet Satoru’s eyes. He can barely speak as his next orgasm approaches. “I-I’m so—“ his body is shaking. “I’m so sorry! I’ve been so—Suguru—so impatient! Please, I’m so so soo!!! So sorry!” He’s almost in tears now, you can tell Suguru is even beginning to feel pity for his best friend and his brat.

“Ahh… cum one more time and I’ll take it out. Show me you deserve mercy by pleading. Plead for mercy.” Suguru’s fingers tug at your nipples now, clearly losing interest in Satoru’s torment. You know that you aren’t being punished, but seeing Suguru like this… makes you a little weary.

“Please please!” Satoru repeats the word over and over. “I’m so sorry! Please, mercy!” He keeps prattling on, thrusting into the air as he struggles to keep together.

“Y/n.” Suguru looks to you. “Clean up his next mess for me. Lick his cock clean and then it’ll be your turn.”

Satoru starts to mumble and moan out different variations of thank yous and Suguru’s name as he reaches his final high. And when he cums, It’s a mess. Semen spills from his cock and your immediately there to catch it. Suguru’s eyes widen, absolutely loving your eagerness to take his cum down your throat.

“Good boy, good girl.” He pets your head and clicks the toy off, causing Satoru’s to collapse completely, his body weight bearing into the now standing legs of Suguru. He catches his breath, still whimpering as Suguru pets his head. Satoru looks you in the eyes, his beauty keeping your gaze fixated on his body. His six eyes are a little red, probably from the tears that he held back, and his body is flushed beautifully, his pretty cock slowly going soft as he does his best to calm down.

Satoru relaxes back on his knees while Suguru goes behind him to remove the toy from his ass and undo Satoru’s hand cuffs. You breathe a sigh of relief for him, always impressed by Satoru’s unwavering stamina and attitude. You wondered how Satoru enjoyed pissing Geto off so much, does he really enjoy these punishments that much? Suguru seemingly loves the after effects of a good punishment, his adoration of Satoru is evident in the way he kisses his head and gently rubs his back while Satoru regains his strength.

As much as you love watching, you are wondering why Suguru invited you to observe Satoru’s punishment. You’re not really complaining and it definitely isn’t the first time you’ve seen it, but, all you’ve had is a thumb in your mouth and a little bit of cocksucking. After all, Suguru can’t ever stay entirely focused on Satoru, he needs some pleasure himself.

Satoru seems to be wondering the same thing. “So, baby, why did you bring her in to watch?” He asks, rising from his knees to give them a break.

Suguru looks down at you. “Just on a whim.” He strokes your face before looking back toward his brat. “And I’ve noticed you get more worked up with an arousing audience.”

“Well, wouldn’t you if she was licking your cum from the floor?” Satoru grumbled, sitting on the bed.

Suguru turns his attention back toward you. “She does love cum in her mouth.” He strokes himself slowly, catching your attention.

“I want yours next.” You tell him, shifting your weight and sending him a smile.

Satoru watches as you lean forward to lick Suguru’s cock, taking his precum on your tongue. He doubt he could handle anymore cumming, but he certainly loves to see you take cock down your throat. If he had more energy, he’d love to stuff his down as well. “Like it that much, y/n?” He chuckles.

Suguru’s eyes shoot to Satoru. “Jealous again, Satoru?? Well, the question is are you jealous cuz my cock is down her throat or are you jealous cuz it’s not down your throat?”

Satoru sucks his teeth. “I want to watch her take me balls deep.”

Uh oh.

Suguru removes his cock from your mouth. “Satoru,” you start, “I don’t think you have enough energy to keep that attitude up.” Indeed, his stamina is incredible.

Suguru waits to see his reaction.

And of course, the other man grins and only adds fuel to the fire. “Think she’d look better with my cock in her mouth. She’s been paying more attention to me than you anyways.”

“Satoru…” you sigh and in seconds Suguru has him pressed back into the bed and is beckoning for you to get on with him.

Satoru laughs. “Aw, did I bruise your ego, baby? What are you gonna do about it?”

Suguru points to his mouth. “Sit on him to shut him up and I’ll give him a nice view of my cock in your mouth.”

Fuck, that sounds hot. Satoru just grins and motions for you to ride his face, pointing at his eager tongue that’s already out and waiting.

“Y/n, make sure he stays quiet I don’t want to hear him make a single peep. And since he likes being punished so much, I’ll punish you instead if he speaks.”

What?

You blink. Undeniably aroused but a bit scared of his now very evident sadism. “You know he’s going to try to speak now on purpose?” Mercy isn’t exactly his thing right now but you’ll pry at it for sure.

Suguru gives you an evil grin as you lower your weeping pussy onto Satoru’s face. “Then keep his mouth shut.”

[moonstruckme]

hi! could i please request dr!remus with reader who’s just had eye surgery? i have one coming up soon and im super scared for it and need like a million kisses from him😭😭

thank u <333

Hi lovely, I hope I posted this soon enough and if I haven't I hope it went okay!! I tried to research the recovery for eye surgery but it differs a lot based on what kind of surgery it is so I decided to leave it sort of vague. Hope this is alright!

cw: mention of eye surgery, irritation, nothing descriptive

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 357 words

You get shy when Remus walks into the post-op room. 

“Hi,” you say softly, wary of disturbing the other patients. 

He sits down on your bed, rubbing your leg through the blanket. “Hi, dovey.” 

“Do I look like a pirate?” 

He grins. “A little,” he admits. “But a very pretty pirate. Or, one could say, you also look like someone who’s recently had eye surgery.” 

“Mm.” You pretend to consider this. “Not as interesting. Will you get me a parrot so I can commit to the look?” 

“If it’ll make you happy.” Remus kisses above your eyebrow tenderly. “How do you feel?” 

The touch of his lips threatens to make you deliquesce into a puddle right there on the hospital bed, but you try to pass it off as a shrug. “Okay.” 

“Does your eye hurt?” 

“Not really? It just feels weird.” The numbing medicine they’d used on your eye is still wearing off, but you can feel the plastic cover over your eye digging into the skin and your eye itself feels slightly itchy. “I can’t say I’m a fan.” 

Remus makes a sympathetic sound, leaning over to kiss your cheek. “It’s normal for it to feel a bit irritated after, but Doctor Abara should give you some drops to help. Have I beat her in here?” 

“You’re the first person I’ve seen other than the nurse.” 

A tiny crease appears between your boyfriend’s brows. He cranes his neck, looking around the room. You catch onto what he’s thinking, covering his hand on your leg with your own. 

“Stay here, please,” you say quietly. 

Remus softens. He splays his fingers, rubbing up and down. “I will,” he assures you. “It wasn’t as scary as you thought it’d be, yeah?” 

“No,” you admit. 

“No?” He ducks his head down to see you, grinning at your reluctance. “Told you. What can I do to help, sweet girl?” 

You look at him bashfully. “I could use a few more kisses.” 

Remus heaves a great sigh. He scoots closer. “Well, usually my treatment plans are a bit more complex,” he says with feigned exasperation, “but if that’s what you need…” 

[empress-simps]

Poly!marauders x readers where maybe they are roommates and love the reader and being touchy and caring but the reader just thinks they are affectionate with all their friends?

Thanks for the request darling! I am more than happy to oblige. Thank you for patiently waiting too since it did take a while to publish it (ugh school am I right?) I tweaked it a bit, hope you don’t mindd : ) Really wanted to publish this before my birthday (which is tomorrow) as a little treat to myself and to you guys. I hope you enjoy!

Special Treatment?

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x Reader

CW: None that I could think of?? except for possible typos and grammatical errors. (1.3k words)

You often found asking yourself one-too-many-times if the boys’ affection to you were just purely platonic or romantic.

Maybe you were just being dramatic— giving meaning to meaningless stuff they do for you.

It's probably you, yeah. You and your delusional arse, really. Why would they want you in the mix when the three of them are already dating?

Although— you just can't help but feel special when Remus makes you his famous “Moony toast” as he likes to call it, or when Sirius calls you 'his doll' and slings his arm over your shoulder which results in your stomach doing flips, and let’s not forget how James would flash his mega-watt smile, setting your breakfast down and making sure you know that he's the one who cooked it for you.

With the help of Remus, of course— your flat would turn into ashes if you let James cook alone in the kitchen.

Being roommates with three dudes is certainly uncommon but fun. Telling people about it… well, makes them shoot you questioning looks or are concerned that you’re being held hostage by three big burly men.

You really weren’t sure how it happened— the four of you just fitted together seamlessly, similar to cogs of a well-oiled machine.

It began during the last three months of your 7th year in Hogwarts, you decided to start looking for flats to rent, preferably in close to London. You wanted to live where muggles are, having such keen interest about them and their daily lives, deciding to pursue a muggle career also helped you in your decision.

You tried searching if there's any available flats to rent and how much it’ll cost. However, seeing that you're a broke student, you really couldn't afford any sky-high prices for rent.

It seemed like all hope was lost until you asked one of your friends, Lily, if she knows anyone looking for a flat mate.

You were sure she was an angel sent here on Earth, after a few days she told you that Remus, James, and Sirius have no problems taking you in, seeing that you guys are housemates during their years in Hogwarts.

The rest was history.

They made sure you wouldn’t feel left out. It was how they looked out for you, the way they included you in every plan, every joke, every moment of their lives.

Although, as the days turn into weeks, and weeks into months you start to notice the little things they do.

"Hey doll, have any movies tickled your fancy yet?" Sirius asks, sneaking his arm around your waist, leaning close to your face.

"Erm, no not really... You guys could pick, I'd be fine with anything." You smiled at him, before fleeing to the kitchen to calm your racing heart.

"You're just friends with them, Y/n. I'm sure they do this with Lily and the others..." you let out a mumble, absentmindedly grabbing a glass of water before bumping into someone.

"Whoa, are you okay, darling?" Remus' worried voice pulled you out of your thoughts as he cupped your face before placing the back of his hand on your forehead.

"I'm alright!" You squeaked; Remus' doesn't really look to convinced. "Are you sure, darling? You look rather flushed... I told you to bring your jacket yesterday when you went out. You probably caught a cold." He frowned, you tried to protest but your attempt was futile as he shimmied off his cardigan and made you wear it. "I'll make you some lemon water, alright darling?" James called out from the living room, "We're starting the movie without you guys!"

Remus yelled out, boiling some warm water. "Hold your bloody horses, prongs! I'm making some lemon water." You heard a shuffling of feet nearing you, making you look up.

"Love, don't tell me you're sick." He frowns, and like what Remus did earlier, he placed the back of his hand on your forehead. "I'm not sick." You protested, but it all fell on deaf ears.

Next time you told them you went out, you were practically dressed for winter even though it's only spring.

Those little things made you honestly take a step back and re-asses your situation with them because for merlin's sake, why do they act like your boyfriends when you're just friends with them, right? You couldn't really open it up to Lily because you'd probably sound stupid if this was just normal for them.

Your mind ran with hundreds of what if's and the way Remus' eyes linger on you for a second too long, with an emotion you can't quite decipher doesn't help soothe the thoughts in your mind. The warmth of Sirius' touch, James and oh merlin, when the three of them kissed you on the cheeks during a movie night? You really couldn't live in denial anymore.

You're no detective but the signs are there, clear as day. There's a high chance they're not just being friendly—they care, deeply. And maybe, just maybe, you do too.

Having read enough romance novels, you quickly recognized the pattern, but this isn't fiction. This is real life, and these are your roommates—three guys who have somehow, inexplicably, fallen for the same person. You.

Sitting in loveseat while nursing a cup of tea, you couldn’t help but notice the way the morning light caught in Sirius’s hair, giving him a halo that seemed so at odds with his mischievous smirk. “Morning, doll,” he greeted, his voice a smooth baritone that sent shivers throughout your system. Does this man haven't ever heard of morning voice?

“Morning,” you replied, trying to keep your voice even. “Slept well?”

“Like a log,” he said, eyes softening before squeezing himself beside you. “Did you? You were up late reading with Moony.”

You nodded, the feeling the warmth within your chest surfacing because of the memory. Remus usually reads his novel alongside you, it's sort of yours and his thing. Although you sometimes found yourself getting distracted and instead of focusing on the book, you were drawn to the gentle timbre of his voice and the way his hand occasionally brushed yours as he pointed something out on the page he was reading.

And then there was James, who was currently flipping pancakes with a concentration that was both endearing and amusing. He caught your eye and grinned, the same smile that had greeted you every morning since you’d moved in. “These are going to be the best pancakes you’ve ever tasted,” he declared. “Guaranteed to improve your day by at least twenty percent.”

You laughed, the sound mingling with the sizzling of the batter. “I’ll hold you to that.”

A bedroom creaked open, and Remus shuffled out, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Is that breakfast I smell?” he mumbled, heading to the kitchen "Yeah, go help prongsie, moons. It's a miracle he hasn't started a fire yet." Sirius teased, it made Remus more awake and practically ran to supervise James.

After a few moments, the four of you were digging into the half-burnt pancakes that James was proud of, a mishmash of pajamas and bed hair (except for Sirius), and yet it felt right. It felt like family. As you ate, you found yourself observing them, the way they interacted with each other, and with you. There was a harmony; a rhythm that you had become a part of without even realizing it.

It was in the little things: the way Remus passed you the syrup without you having to ask, or the sound of Sirius’ laughter seemed to wrap around you like a warm blanket. And James? Well, he was the glue that held it all together, his energy infectious and his presence a constant source of comfort for all of you.

You realized; it didn’t matter what other people thought. They don't see what you saw, feel what you've felt. They don’t understand that this was more than just a shared living space; it was a shared life. And maybe, just maybe, it was okay to give meaning to the ‘meaningless stuff’ because, to you, it meant everything.

And as you looked around at the three men who had become your world, you knew that this was normal. Your normal. And it was perfect.

[konigsblog]

reader getting gang raped for talking shit about men 😛

something the 141 would do with their enemy. :( 🩸

tw/cw; rape/gangrape, non-con/dub-con, dark content. dead dove: do not eat. MDNI 18+

can you really blame them for their inhumane treatment? you were supposed to be on their side, a fraud, sharing precious and important information to the enemies, soiling their plans. they trusted you, took you in as their own, with open arms and a warm heart.

you weren't familiar with this side of them. callous, hurtful, violent. they were brutal with you, violating your every hole ‘til you were coating them in your crimson blood, spread out and presented to them for them to brutalise. despite the piteous cries that echoed in the interrogation room followed with pleas of forgiveness and mercy, they weren't gentle. not even kyle or johnny, who now demanded you refer to them as ‘soap’ and ‘gaz’, no longer on a first name basis. fuck, they were so careful with their beloved teammate.

your sudden and shocking betrayal left them savage, revengeful, and vindictive, and they couldn't help but feel disgusted with you, raping you until you were limp in their arms.

they'd tell you that you had it coming, you should've expected to be tortured for your betrayal. your previous captain was merciless with you, with each rough thrust stretching your asshole open, your cunt practically swelling with this abuse, split open and fucked into, reduced to a hole for their pleasure and an outlet for their frustration. ghost bit into your skin, enough to draw blood, while you sucked another off, the muzzle of a gun pressed against the crown of your skull.

they wouldn't kill you—not yet, at least—keeping you as a slave for their own use, beaten and raped ‘til you were unrecognisable, a shell of your previous self.