#but anyway it's a lot less stressful on me in terms of keeping in touch with people kjsbcs | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

phoenixyfriend · 3 years ago

Text

Quinlan and the Interdimensional Ingenues (except not really)

Context: SW Suddenly Omegaverse AU (Original Post), Interior Design (Nesting Divots), Chrono Rating: T+ Relationships: Anakin & Obi-Wan, Quinlan/Obi-Wan

This is like 90% cuddles and scenting that’s a few steps to the side of a/b/o standard. There is a lot of non-sexual licking. It’s a little odd, but I’m assuming that’s what you’re here for. It’s also over 5k words, so, you know. There’s that.

Note: “Ternary” is to the number three as “binary” is to the number two. Binary gender/sex refers to IRL male/female distinctions, and ternary refers to alpha/beta/omega. Gender and sex are much more complicated than is touched on in this particular fic, and trans identities exist within both the binary system and the ternary system. (More notes at end.)

-----

“Sorry to tell you this,” Quinlan says, sliding into the room as quickly as he can, “but we can smell omega distress from several rooms down the hall. What the hell is going on?”

“We’ve having a lot of feelings,” Kenobi says drily. He’s on the couch, looking damnably normal, and Skywalker’s got his face shoved into his master’s neck. Kenobi’s fingers card through the curls, and it’s... well, it would be easy to tell which of them was having said feelings even if Quinlan hadn’t already been able to tell them apart in scent.

“I’m distraught,” Skywalker moans, mushing himself somehow closer.

Kenobi’s eyes go to the ceiling, and he visibly prays to the Force for patience. “I know, Anakin.”

“You think I’m being dumb.”

“I think you’ve had a few months to prepare for this, but that your reaction is understandable nevertheless,” Kenobi says carefully. “Quinlan, would you like to take a seat?”

He hops the back of an armchair in a way that earns him a long-suffering, fond sigh. Quinlan grins encouragingly. “So, do I get to know what this is about?”

“I’m having trouble keeping it out of the Force, but at least I can do that,” Skywalker mutters. He does not lift his head. “I can’t control the scent stuff.”

“Yeah,” Quinlan says, because he’s not sure what else to say. “Do you want me to go get Tano? Might make you feel better.”

Skywalker just whines, high and pained, and tries to curl impossibly closer to Kenobi.

“Anakin,” Kenobi tries. “Anakin, do you want me to explain?”

“I want my--” Skywalker cuts himself off with a choking noise, and then keens. It’s a very omega noise, in the sense that his vocal cords can make it, and non-omegas have trouble mimicking it, and it makes Quinlan want to go over and do his best to fix things in whatever way he can.

(This, everyone is finding, is the truly awkward element to having Skywalker and Kenobi around. They don’t have any experience with controlling their ternary sex instincts, and it makes everyone else react poorly when they do, well, almost anything. They can’t be blamed, considering exactly how inconvenient this is for them, as well, but it’s not a great time for anyone.)

Quinlan tries to keep his own scent pleasant and calm, as soothing as he can make it through the blockers. He doesn’t think it works. “Your what?”

“His wife,” Kenobi says. “Because apparently that was the other way he broke the Code.”

“I looked her up,” Skywalker moans, dramatic as anyone. “She’s already mated and married, in this timeline. To that artist. She’s totally happy and she’s never met me and I’m never gonna be able to work with or around her because I won’t be able to act normal about it and I miss her.”

‘A lot of feelings‘ Kenobi mouths at Quinlan over Skywalker’s head.

“Well, at least it explains the position you’re in,” Quinlan tries to joke. The blank look he gets from Kenobi tells him clearly that the joke didn’t land. “Uh, scenting at the neck like that.”

“Inappropriate?” Kenobi hazards a guess. He doesn’t pull Skywalker away.

“Sort of,” Quinlan says. “You’re family, or as good as, so between that and the need for comfort, nobody’s really going to judge you for it, especially given your backgrounds, but that kind of prolonged neck-scenting for comfort is something kids outgrow in pre-adolescence. It’s only really used for either comfort for extreme emotions, like this, or, uh, between lovers. Post-coital, or during foreplay before, you know, mouths get involved.”

Kenobi grimaces. “Lovely. And what do you mean by ‘of our backgrounds’ in this case? That we have less control, or another factor?”

He doesn’t sound offended. Quinlan appreciates that. “You didn’t have ten years to get that comfort. It’s like... touch starvation, but for scenting. Anyone who knows what’s going on with you, even in the vague sense that doesn’t involve dimensional travel, is going to give you leeway on scenting because you didn’t have that, growing up.”

Kenobi’s grimace doesn’t go away until Skywalker’s breath hitches, hand curling in his master’s robes. “Anakin?”

“I don’t like feeling like this,” Skywalker mutters. “It sucks.”

“I know.”

“And we can’t delay the war much longer, and she was one of the only reasons I stayed even kinda sane through it.”

“I know, Anakin,” Kenobi sighs, running a hand through Skywalker’s hair and, awkwardly as anything, pressing a small kiss to the young man’s forehead. “You’ll have other ways to de-stress this time around. Maybe you’ll actually attend your meditative retreats.”

Skywalker huffs out a breath, in a laugh wet with what might be burgeoning tears. “Shut up.”

“I think you’ve known me far too long to think I’ll ever run out of words,” Kenobi says. He meets Quinlan’s eyes again, but before either of them can communicate about whether Quinlan should leave, Skywalker lurches to his feet, muttering something about a shower.

He’s gone before Kenobi can get more than two words out, and the man is left looking ruffled and confused by his former padawan’s sudden departure. He stays watching the door, and slowly wilts in a way that doesn’t speak well for his state of mind. The man sighs and drops his head into his hands, cradling it with his elbows on his knees, and whatever calm he’d had fades into pure stress, the air curdling with the smell of it.

Quinlan waits, unsure of how to handle this; Kenobi’s Quinlan Vos probably would have known how to deal with the change.

“What am I doing?” Kenobi breathes out, the words almost inaudible from behind his hands.

There are a few moments for Quinlan to consider the many complications and ramifications of getting involved, and then he decides to do so anyway. He stands up and steps around the caff table, and sits down next to Kenobi. He wraps an arm around the man’s shoulders, and brings him in close.

“You don’t have to do this,” Kenobi says, though he makes no move to pull away. “I know you don’t... this is just an obligation. The Council assigned you to gather information and keep an eye out for us in terms of the whole omega thing, since you already shared my heat, and... I know I’m not a friend to you. You barely know me, and the fact that you have to look out for me is something that truly grates. Such care shouldn’t...”

Quinlan waits for him to finish, but he doesn’t.

“I won’t say that they didn’t give me that assignment, because that would be a lie and you’d know it,” Quinlan says. “But I do want to be friends with you. We’re sort of there, already, even if that’s mostly you knowing my other self, and my psychometry, but I’ve seen what a friendship with you could be like, in what you let me see. We’ll never have that same dynamic, because I didn’t grow up with you, and the ternary sex adds an element that changes things, but I do want to be your friend.”

He hesitates, unsure if the rest will make things worse or better, but says it anyway. “As for taking care of you, looking out for you... I do feel a need to do that on an instinctual level, yes, but I can ignore it. It’s an instinct, but one that I, like everyone else that’s grown up as a human or near human in this galaxy, can work around. I am doing more than the minimum the Council requested, and it’s because I do actually like you as a person, and want to know you better.”

Kenobi’s head is resting on his shoulder by this point, tired and heavy, and Quinlan reaches up to brush his knuckles against the beard without looking. His blockers are still keeping his scent down, but the contact seems to make Kenobi relax more. His hands are mostly laced together, and falling into the dip between their legs.

“There’s a way I can help, but it’s, ah... not inherently sexual in nature, but generally only done by those whose relationship is already some degree of sexual,” Quinlan tells him. “To make you feel better, less stressed.”

“I’m assuming you’re not suggesting an orgasm,” Kenobi mutters, dry as anything. He laughs when Quinlan puts a hand on his knee.

“Not exactly feeling it,” Quinlan agrees. He squeezes Kenobi’s knee, and then says, “No, it’s mostly scenting in a way that’s usually only done by lovers; it’s more effective, but very intimate in a way many find uncomfortably sexual, because the amount of tongue involved is very reminiscent of foreplay.”

Kenobi laughs, a little harder, and nuzzles a little. He doesn’t seem aware of the fact that he’s doing it. “Alright, then.”

“I’d also suggest moving to one of the nests,” Quinlan says, and Kenobi immediately freezes. He gives it a moment, and then says, “I know you found it helpful after your heat, Kenobi. The nesting instinct is human here. It’s not shameful. There are people who don’t get anything out of it, but I’ve seen you nesting, and it’s good for you.”

Kenobi shudders and Quinlan thinks he might be fighting down a whine. “It’s a change, Quin. I mean, Quinlan. It’s... it’s just another thing out of many that’s different.”

“And one of the few you have control over?” Quinlan guesses. He tries to purr for support when Kenobi nods against his shoulder, and he thinks the deep rumble is soothing to Kenobi. “I get that.”

“Don’t stop,” Kenobi mutters, and Quinlan can guess he’s blushing about it.

“Into the nest,” Quinlan mutters. “It’ll help convince Skywalker to use it, and he really needs that kind of comfort.”

That’s the line of logic that actually works, and Quinlan isn’t the least bit surprised.

“Fine,” Kenobi sighs, and gets to his feet before Quinlan can offer to carry him or something similarly joking. The man walks to the communal nest at the edge of the room, and then looks down into the barely-used mess of blankets and pillows in the floor divot like he doesn’t even know how to get in.

Quinlan thinks there might be dust, even.

Fine. He can work with that. He’s taken this duo on as a project of his own free will, and he’s damn well going to follow through.

“Want to rearrange it?” he asks, in hopes that he can prompt Kenobi into figuring out what’s wrong.

“I don’t... know,” Kenobi says, frowning in a way that’s more worried and uncomfortable than angry. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Quinlan considers it, thinks of how the dust means nobody’s been here, that there’s not even a hint of scent, and then turns and grabs the throw pillows and thick, woven blanket from the couch.

“Wait,” Kenobi protests. “They don’t--”

“We can put them back later,” Quinlan assures him. He holds them out to Kenobi. “Trust me? I may not be an omega, but I do know enough of the theory.”

Kenobi takes the pillows and the blanket, stares down at them and then at the nest, and steps out of his slippers and into the nest. The layer already there is thin, and likely not doing much for anyone, but it’s the bare minimum and Quinlan can work with that.

He turns and scouts the room for spare fabrics, grabs all three of the outer robes from where they hang by the door, and the recently-used dishtowel that only barely carries Skywalker’s scent, and brings them to Kenobi.

“The robes aren’t clean!” Kenobi protests.

“I could grab something from your room instead,” Quinlan says. “Or you could just leave the hems on the outside. But you need more fabric that actually smells like someone.”

Quinlan wonders, idly, if Kenobi would have this kind of reaction to the suggestion without omega instincts at play, or if it’s just the instincts and he doesn’t realize, or maybe that he’s decided to let the instincts happen since Quinlan’s pushed him into nesting already anyway. The man had insisted in perfectly pressing his robes from the beginning, long before their bodies had had a chance to change, and Skywalker had found it normal, so it’s probably, at least a little, just the man’s personality. It probably doesn’t matter, overall, because all Quinlan has to do is sit at the edge of the nest until Kenobi--the person who actually lives here--is done arranging things.

Quinlan takes off another two layers and offers them, noting out loud that he can get them back later when Skywalker can fill in the gaps or something before too many protests can be voiced. Kenobi hesitantly takes them and tucks them in among his own additional layers. Quinlan’s seen enough communal nests to know that most of the placements are odd and not going to work out long-term, but that’s not the point right now. The point is getting Kenobi to recognize the his body, and more importantly, his mental health, rely at least somewhat on nesting now.

“Are you going to come in?” Kenobi asks, belatedly realizing Quinlan’s still outside the lip of the flooring divot.

“Not without permission,” Quinlan says, and sees the realization flicker in.

Kenobi holds out a hand, silent, and Quinlan lets himself get tugged in among the half-stale, half-new nest. It’s not great, but that’ll come with practice. He tucks himself around Kenobi, and rubs at the man’s arms in an attempt to ease some of the tension that’s clinging to every line of his body.

“What now?” Kenobi asks, just a shade more quiet than Quinlan thinks is really required by the situation.

“A lot of the stress you’re feeling is a feedback loop from being covered in your own distress scent,” Quinlan says. “You can shower to handle that, which is what Skywalker is doing, or you can manually remove it.”

“I’d imagine a wet towel,” Kenobi says, a touch wry, “but given that you mentioned tongue earlier, I’m guessing you intend to lick it away?”

“It’s more effective,” Quinlan admits. “Not at removing the scent, necessarily, but it removes enough to help while also generating comfort and relaxation hormones from the close contact, and being scented by a trusted individual.”

“Makes sense,” Kenobi admits. “You, ah, use scent blockers usually, right? Can you, er, scent me?”

Quinlan can see just how much Kenobi dislikes using the words. He tries to keep it quick. “I use a cream blocker over my scent glands, namely at the neck and wrists, since the rest are covered in fabric. It’s... well, it can be wiped off, or also removed orally. Most manually-applied blockers are formulated to be safe for contact with the mouth or genitals. Only really gets to be a problem if there are rare allergies or with specific species. It doesn’t taste like anything, if that matters.”

Kenobi’s discomfort is almost palpable, but Quinlan lets him work through that. This isn’t really something he can make a choice for Kenobi about, and the discomfort is... well, it’s not really the kind of discomfort usually associated with ternary sex and associated behaviors. Everything’s just very new, and comes with changes to the body that Kenobi never agreed to.

“Right,” Kenobi says. “I want to... to at least try it, I think.”

He turns and blushes, eyes anywhere by Quinlan’s face. “I don’t know how much longer Anakin will be. I’d rather he not think we’re, er...”

“Then I’ll take care of that part fast,” Quinlan promises, and is rewarded by Kenobi offering a wrist.

It’s... not sexual. Quinlan knows he has a hard time explaining this to near-humans that don’t have the scent glands, that don’t have the ternary dynamics. He’s had a similarly hard time explaining it to Kenobi and Skywalker. It’s not sexual, just intimate, when he pulls Kenobi’s wrist to his face, closes his eyes, and breathes in the scent of a distressed, uncomfortable, bitter omega that he’s shared a heat with and knows as almost-friend. The smell, this close and this strong, triggers the production of pheromones of his own, and when he feels Kenobi tentatively start pressing kisses to Quinlan’s own wrist, he relaxes. He brushes his lips against Kenobi’s wrist, and then puts his open mouth to it, the slightest press of teeth and his tongue laving across the skin. He hears Kenobi’s gasp, an almost-yelp, and pulls away long enough to press a kiss the the veins under his lips, and to say, “Relax, Kenobi.”

He forces a purr out, low and rumbling, and feels it work on Kenobi just like it did earlier. There’s a tongue pulling, a little dry, to rub away the blocker on the inside of his wrist, and he turns his attention back to Kenobi’s. The scent is even stronger on his tongue, bitter and unhappy, and his body continues to produce calm and comfort as he pulls away the uglier feelings painted on Kenobi’s skin.

More pheromones leak under his mouth, but less bitter. Less intense. He does what he can, opens his eyes and turns and sees that Kenobi is unduly focused on his wrist, mouthing and not quite purring, but oddly fuzzy in the Force. His eyes are closed, but Quinlan’s pretty sure they’d be glazed if not.

“Kenobi?”

“Hm?”

“Guess you haven’t encountered this outside of a heat before,” Quinlan mutters. He shakes his arm a bit, and puts his other hand on Kenobi’s shoulder. “Kenobi, hey, look at me?”

Kenobi pulls away, blinking, and then makes a face. “That...”

“Didn’t like losing control?” Quinlan guesses. The answer is clear enough. “It’s a matter of practice, especially for you.”

“Why did I... it smelled and tasted like... like I was safe,” Kenobi mutters lowly, eyes on the nest instead of on Quinlan. “I’ve never associated any sense with safety other than the Force.”

“You trust me,” Quinlan says, as if that’s not a little terrifying in its own way. He already knew that Kenobi trusted him, but he thinks that this strong of a reaction might make him Kenobi’s most trusted person after Skywalker and maybe Tano. “And since you trust me, your body subconsciously takes cues from mine, when it comes to pheromones. I project comfort and safety, and your body takes it as... not fact, but affirmation.”

“So I won’t react to anyone like this,” Kenobi says, not quite begging for Quinlan to confirm, but close to it. “Just you, and... does that same logic apply to those who aren’t Alpha designation?”

“Yeah,” Quinlan says. “Not in the same way, but familiarity and trust does affect which pheromones affect you, and how strongly. Children are largely unresponsive to aggression pheromones from their parents, by default, since their minds process it as aggression in defense of them, rather than aggression at them.”

Kenobi purses his lips, but nods and looks at Quinlan’s other wrist. “Moving on?”

“If you’re okay with it,” Quinlan says, but he brings his cleaned wrist to Kenobi’s and rubs them together until his own comfort scent is covering up what’s left of the distress. “Take a smell at that and see how you feel.”

Kenobi eyes him warily--he’s pretty sure he hasn’t done anything to deserve that, but allows it because, well, Kenobi--and sniffs at his own wrist. His brow furrows in confusion, and he sniffs again.

“Good?” Quinlan hazards.

“I... yeah,” Kenobi says. He sounds as confused as he looks. “I like it. It’s... the safe thing, again, but mixing with me?”

“That’s how it’s supposed to feel,” Quinlan assures him. “Other wrist?”

If he were actually the friend that Kenobi had grown up with, if he’d actually had a Kenobi to grow up with, he thinks he might have thrown in a few joking pet names by now.

But he’s not, and they didn’t, so he won’t.

He thinks he hears Skywalker finish up in the shower, but Kenobi pulls his mouth to the neck, and mutters that they have some time while Skywalker does something to his hair. Apparently, there are products needed for those curls.

The angle’s going to be a little uncomfortable if they try to get at each other’s scent glands simultaneously, so Quinlan suggests that Kenobi handle getting the blocker off first.

“Why?”

“More convenient,” Quinlan says, and then clasps Kenobi’s hands so their wrists rub together. He squeezes, just a little, a touch of reassurance, and smiles and tilts his head. “All yours, Kenobi.”

The man smiles, brittle, and almost giggles. Maybe Quinlan was doing something oddly similar to his counterpart from Kenobi’s dimension. Maybe it was an inside joke he didn’t know. It doesn’t matter, because Kenobi’s leaning in and mouthing along Quinlan’s neck and throat like a man possessed a half-second later.

Quinlan closes his eyes and threads a hand into Kenobi’s hair, focuses on warmth and comfort and protection, rather than anything aroused. Kenobi slows down, lapping at Quinlan’s neck and inhaling, and in the Force he radiates confusion.

“That’s it,” Quinlan mutters, and Kenobi makes a low chirruping noise that he immediately stifles with an annoyed huff. “Hey, no, those are normal. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“I want control over my own body, Quin,” Kenobi mutters, and switches to the other side. He rubs his face against Quinlan’s neck, and it’s another point on the list of things Kenobi does that he might not realize are based in newer instincts. “I don’t like something being wrong with me, and not understanding what it is.”

“Nothing is wrong with you,” Quinlan mutters, using the hand in Kenobi’s hair to guide him into actually removing the scent blocker instead of donating a case of beard burn. “Even going as fast as you did just now wasn’t something wrong. Your instincts got a bit confused, that’s all. You’re fine.”

He purrs until Kenobi is done, and gets that chirruping noise again. Kenobi’s still annoyed about it, but Quinlan’s just happy he’s getting less uncomfortable about it.

“Okay, sit up and turn around,” Quinlan says, and Kenobi eyes him again. “Have I steered you wrong yet?”

“No.”

“So trust me,” Quinlan urges. “Just turn around.”

Kenobi does. Quinlan sits up and rearranges his legs so there’s one on either side of Kenobi, half-bent. He pulls the other man closer, blankets folding oddly beneath them, and wraps his arms around Kenobi’s waist.

He breathes for a moment, chin hooked over Kenobi’s shoulder, and asks, “Good?”

“Oddly so, yes,” Kenobi mutters. He might be blushing. “Er, should I... do anything?”

“Hands on mine, if you’d like,” Quinlan tells him. “We can lie back down and spoon after I clean up your left.”

The noise Kenobi makes is low, affronted in a way that speaks to his ongoing embarrassment. Quinlan ignores it, just gets to work taking away as much of Kenobi’s stress scent as he can, mouthing along the man’s neck and managing a purr that isn’t even forced. It rumbles out of him unprompted, his hindbrain piecing together the relaxing omega in his lap and the safety of the Temple and the pride he’s got in doing this right, the knowledge that Kenobi’s happier than he was an hour ago and it’s all Quinlan’s doing.

He rubs his face along Kenobi’s neck as he finishes up, scenting and being scented back, and is gratified when Kenobi starts purring too. The nuzzling is mostly soft, though Quinlan’s stubble is nothing to Kenobi’s beard; the hairs trap Quinlan’s scent where it’ll do the most good. He follows a hint of mischievous intent and tugs at Kenobi’s earlobe with his teeth, earning himself a little whine. He laughs, and licks the curve of Kenobi’s ear, immediately scenting further.

“Anakin’s going to be back soon,” Kenobi says, sounding almost sleep drunk.

Quinlan switches sides and guides them both down to lie, chest to front, in the nest. He works more slowly on the other side, keeps himself propped up on his elbow, forearm slipped neatly under Kenobi’s neck. The scent gland at Quinlan’s wrist rests under Kenobi’s nose, right where it’ll have the most effect. His other hand rubs up and down Kenobi’s side, and by the time Skywalker reenters the room, Quinlan’s done with licking the stress off and rubbing his scent into anything he thinks will help. He’s lying fully on his side instead of having his head propped up, and just doing his best to spread comfort through the room through Force and smell. He maybe nibbles at the back of Kenobi’s neck, here and there, because the man has lothcat response, and

“Guys?”

“Over here, Skywalker.”

The kid--not really a kid, but younger than Aayla, still, so he counts--rounds the couch, and sees them among the added cloaks and pillows and blanket. He stares. Kenobi starts to stiffen back up.

Quinlan increases his purring, and rubs his face against Kenobi’s neck, and glares up at Skywalker for good measure. Kenobi can’t see past Quinlan, probably, and squirms. Skywalker tilts his head, and then puts up a finger in a ‘one moment’ sort of gesture. He runs off.

“Anakin--”

“Kid’s fine,” Quinlan assures him, and Skywalker skids back into the room at unsafe speeds, arms full of what Quinlan’s pretty sure are his own duvet and pillow, and falls face-first into the nest. Kenobi jerks back into Quinlan, but Skywalker ignores this in favor of rearranging the nest into something approaching functional. He’s better at it than Kenobi.

Quinlan’s pretty sure Skywalker was more open to these things from the start. It tracks.

“Now Anakin, really,” Kenobi sputters, as Skywalker finishes layering things in the way he thinks is best. Skywalker beams at him, earlier melancholy forgotten for the moment, and flops down to drop his head somewhere near Kenobi’s chest.

“You haven’t been sleeping,” Skywalker says. “This is good for you.”

Kenobi blushes, and Quinlan scrapes his teeth against the back of his neck again.

“Quinlan!” Kenobi yelps, jolting. “Not--we’re not alone!”

“Helps you calm down, though,” Quinlan says, pressing a few close-mouthed kisses at Kenobi’s hairline.

“Different cultural standards,” Skywalker adds, half-guessing but sure of himself nonetheless. He seems entirely too delighted to be here. “You know what? We should invite Ahsoka.”

“She’s not your padawan here,” Kenobi scolds.

“Yet,” Skywalker corrects. “As soon as I get all my psych evals cleared, the Council’s going to promise. She’s basically my padawan already.”

Kenobi sighs, aggrieved in a manner that feels more fond than actually upset, in the Force, and places a hand lightly on Skywalker’s.

Skywalker chirrups and wriggles closer, pressing his face to Kenobi’s tunic with a smile.

“I see someone’s feeling better,” Kenobi notes, and moves his hand up to play with Skywalker’s hair. “The shower helped?”

“Mm-hm,” Skywalker says. “’nd some of the stuff they made me learn in therapy.”

Kenobi hums low in his throat, an aimless vocalization, as he continues to comb his fingers through Skywalker’s hair.

Skywalker blinks, slow and bleary, with a soft and dopey smile, and Kenobi stops.

“What?”

“I like it when you play with my hair,” Skywalker says, almost too low to hear. His eyes close. “Feels nice. Cared for. Family.”

Kenobi freezes, breath hitching, and Quinlan shifts and lifts just enough to see the man is staring at his own hand in confusion and a slight bit of fear.

“Kenobi?”

“I didn’t even question it,” Kenobi says faintly. “I don’t... I haven’t done that since he was just a child, but I didn’t even question it. I stopped myself from commenting that he’s too old to come to his master for cuddles, because he’s not, in this dimension, and I’m getting used to that, but I started playing with his hair like it was normal and it’s not.”

Quinlan puts his mouth to Kenobi’s trapezius, just enough pressure that he’s not biting, just there, and purrs.

It’s several inches away from anything resembling a mating bite, but Kenobi tilts his head and whines anyway.

“Obi-Wan?” Skywalker prompts, brow furrowed. “It’s not... I mean, I’m not going to say it’s okay, since I know we’re both still upset about our bodies being changed without our permission or input or even a warning, but we’re getting used to it. We’re working with it. The hair thing is fine with me, I like it and would have before. And now that you know you’ll want to do, uh, that sort of thing--”

“Subset of grooming behaviors,” Quinlan tells them, pulling away from Kenobi’s neck with a final open-mouthed kiss. He sees the face Skywalker makes in response to the words, and feels Kenobi’s discomfort, so he elaborates. They’ve compared most of what they hear with tookas and lothwolves, so he thinks he knows what this is about. “We’re not exactly going to start licking each other clean--excluding scent comfort, that’s different--like lothcats, but you’ve already noticed that humans and near-humans are more tactile than you’re used to. Most forms of care, especially of partners and children, ends up physical in some way.”

He gestures between the two of them. “You view Skywalker as family, for all that you shy away from defining it, and so naturally gravitate to care. The easiest way for that to manifest when sharing a nest is usually playing with someone’s hair. Since he’s younger than you, and you’ve spent as much time as you have being the adult in his life...”

Quinlan trails off before he can comment on the question of whether they’re closer to brothers or father-and-son. Kenobi’s already expressed discomfort with that topic, well before they started naturalizing to this dimension. Quinlan’s not going to push for Kenobi to acknowledge Skywalker’s importance to him.

(They’ll have to address it at some point, but that’s a job for the mind healers, not for Quinlan.)

(For all that it’s going to impact and be impacted by their dynamics, that much is definitely not Quinlan’s to handle.)

Kenobi shudders in his arms, but doesn’t shake him off, and doesn’t stop Skywalker from burrowing somehow closer. Quinlan settles back in as Kenobi returns to playing with Skywalker’s hair.

“We really should invite Ahsoka, though.”

“Not tonight, padawan.”

-----------------------------------------------

Additional notes:

I initially wrote “ternary gender,” but found that it didn’t strike true to how I envisioned gender and dynamic playing out among Jedi culture in particular. While the term ‘dynamic’ is used regularly in a more casual setting, Quinlan uses the term “ternary sex” when talking about it in the company of Anakin and Obi-Wan. I view it as a subconscious attempt to keep a clinical view of the ternary sex system present in the omegaverse dimension, in recognition that it’s new and unfamiliar and often unpleasant for Anakin and Obi-Wan, having come from a dimension that doesn’t have ternary sexes or the associated reproductive capabilities, instincts, or cycles.

I’d like to explore how the ideas of sex, gender, dynamic, and so on intersect within the context of this universe, because I think it’s something I’d have a lot of fun working with, but this is not the fic for that.

#Quinlan Vos #Obi Wan Kenobi #Anakin Skywalker #QuinObi #anakin and obi wan #obi wan and anakin #disaster lineage #time travel #dimension hopping #omegaverse #SW Suddenly Omegaverse #past anidala #star wars #the clone wars #nesting #grooming #scenting #we went fully weird with this and I'm not apologizing... much #Phoenix Posts

292 notes · View notes

karlswrites · 4 years ago

Text

Big Vs. Little Spoon

Demon Bois + Non-Dateables Edition

This game is my newest hyper-fixation, so please bear with me. I know there are a lot of head-canons about the boys cuddling, but here’s my rendition. Boy howdy, this one’s a little long...

Warnings: Pure Fluff

❤️ Lucifer: Because he’s the Avatar of Pride, Lucifer loves feeling bigger than you. His pride inhibits him from being the little spoon, so he often opts for being the big spoon. Luci can’t help but admire the way his arms completely envelop you when he’s the big spoon. However, if he decides that you’ve been “a good little Main Character,” then he might acquiesce to your request, allowing you to lounge over him. Additionally, Luci prefers that the two of you cuddle in his bed, as it is rather large and extremely comfortable. Seeing you sprawled out over or curled in his comforter fills him to the brim with pride. Being able to hold you close to his chest gives him more pride than literally anything else. Being the elegant fella that he is, he will always lower himself beside you gently, careful not to disturb you. He won’t jump on the bed like some people.

(I’m so sorry you had to read that one line of dialogue, if you can even call it that.)

💛 Mammon: A true switch on top of and underneath the sheets, Mammon is more likely to be the little spoon than his elder brother. He will never admit to you how much he enjoys feeling your arms slumped over him, but he does love it. He’ll never object to being the big spoon, though, as having his arms and legs draped over you is a HUGE ego booster. Mammon often feels little in the company of his brothers, so knowing that you feel safe and comfortable in his hold makes the guy’s heart melt. I must warn you, though, that Mammon doesn’t hesitate to leap unto your bed, effectively smothering you with his love and adoration. In the private on your room or his, because he loves showing his stuff off, he’ll entangle himself in you. Honestly, it doesn’t matter to him how you’re lying, as long as he gets to stay with you. If you satisfy his greed, and you always do, he will never leave.

(My friend thought of an adorable Mammon x MC Piggy-back ride idea, but that’s for another day, hehe)

💙 Leviathan: This poor boy isn’t used to physical touch, much less having someone in his room almost every night. His only experience comes from a Ruri-chan body pillow, and that thing does not compare to your warmth. At first, you have to be the big spoon. Although he’s embarrassed, Levi adores the feeling of your arms and legs hooked around him. He always takes the opportunity to take his hands and intertwine them with yours over his chest and waist. Now, if Levi gets jealous, then that’s a whole other story. If he notices a few too many people crowded around you or hugging you throughout the day, he’ll find his confidence and trap you into him. He’ll pull you into the bathtub with him, lay you down on his pillows, and act clingy so that nobody mistakes you for theirs. Good luck leaving the tub, ya hooligan.

💚 Satan: Out of the two options, Satan is probably the big spoon most of the time. He likes holding you close, being able to enjoy some peace and quiet with you. He’s not so much of a ‘little/big spoon’ as he is a ‘two forks lying snuggly together in a drawer’ kind of guy. You lie next to him, your arms looped around his neck or his chest. Satan holds a book over the two of you, reading aloud softly. His free hand is snaked under your waist, his thumb gently stroking up and down your spine with each sentence he reads. On the other hand, if it’s late at night or super early in the morning, he’ll indulge in that prime spooning opportunity. He’d probably place his chin in the crook of your shoulder. He’ll probably have his hands anchored in your waist. He’ll probably - most definitely- slowly turn you around in his arms, letting his hands wander back towards your spine. Satan loves having you pressed against his heartbeat and vice versa. Your heart is the perfect sound for him to fall asleep to.

💗 Asmodeus: This guy is a little spoon. With how much he loves himself and you, of course, he will curl himself into you. Asmo doesn’t like as much for his back to face you, so he always ends up turning around in your arms. He wants you to have constant access to his face. Whether you’re looking at him or kissing him, it doesn’t matter; Asmo wants your attention on his beautiful face. Being constantly suggestive, especially when it comes to you, he slowly weaves his legs between yours. He doesn’t hesitate when playing footsies, too. In terms of his preferences, he loves hosting you in his room. If you ever want to cuddle in your room, though, then he’ll eagerly agree. Asmo looks forward to leaving the scent of whatever fragrance he’s wearing all over your bedsheets. He wants you thinking about him 24/7 after all.

(If anyone disagrees with this one, in particular, square up in a Denny’s parking lot.)

🧡 Beelzebub: As long as you’re eating food during cuddling, Beel could care less how you’re placed over him. He’s a big boy, so he’s often the big spoon. One of his arms will snake its way underneath you, holding you tightly around the waist. His other hand is preoccupied with a bag of chips or another tasty snack. Unlike Asmo, Beel is not nearly as handsy. He keeps you in his strong hold the entire time. When he’s done eating, he moves his hand up to your head. His digits will stroke and play with your hair. It’s so soft, and Beel can’t get enough of how relaxed it makes the both of you feel. Another position he likes, which isn’t necessarily spooning, but him lying on his back with you on top. Beel loves, loves, loves your head on his chest. The way his chin rests upon your head is so nice to him. He drapes his arms down your back, hooking his legs over yours. He keeps you in place, and you feel so safe. He is a legitimate teddy bear.

💜 Belphegor: The Avatar of Sloth is the best cuddler, hands down. He has so many pillows and, upon request, can provide pillow forts, beds, nooks , or whatever you need. You always fall asleep within minutes. Cuddling was a bit difficult at first, as you didn’t always trust him. Actually, it was Belphie’s attempt to gain your trust that led you to be cuddle-buddies (besides your mutual pining, of course). Like some of his brothers, he doesn’t prefer one position over the other. He can be a big or little spoon. You say the word, and he’ll fall into the position with ease. He covers you with blankets, making you appear as a burrito/cocoon. He is definitely warm each and every time you snuggle in close. Belphie clings to you as a sloth clings to its branch, never letting go, even when you wake up.

❤️ Diavolo: Another big boy, Diavolo is the - drum roll, please- big spoon. He has the broadest shoulders, biggest hands, and widest chest that’s perfect to fall into. Whenever you cuddle, he silently hopes you choose his castle. He’s always so excited to bring you over, and this guy has a massive bed. It’s literally made for a king. Since he’s a ray of sunshine, Diavolo will playfully tug you onto the mattress with him. He holds your face, caressing your cheeks. He grabs your waist, pulling you in even closer. He doesn’t let go until he absolutely has to. Sometimes, Barbatos has to come in and drag him away from you. Diavolo is completely smitten by you, and his affection only grows every time he relaxes against your back. Furthermore, cuddling with you is the perfect way to end a stressful day of dealing with the crazy demon brothers.

💚 Barbatos: Barbatos may be a butler, but something about him screams big spoon. He loves scooping you up in his arms. The feeling of his heartbeat against your back brings him the greatest sense of comfort. When keeping you tangled up in his arms, he asks now and again if he can move in anyway, get you anything, or do anything to make you feel even more comfortable. He likes his control, but he always aims to please. Barbatos and you never stay still for long. His fingers run along your arms, sides, and shoulders continuously. He, too, likes playing with your hair. If you fall asleep before him, he places kisses on the back of your scalp, neck, and shoulders. He never goes past that, but cuddling allows him ample time to indulge in some innocent physical attention. Expect to be carried out of bed bridal style when the two of you wake up.

🖤 Solomon: As the Devildom’s official special snowflake, you might never know what you’ll get with him. Solomon prefers feeling your back against his chest, though he will, like Lucifer, reward you by being the little spoon. He’s very calm and cool, so being the little spoon doesn’t embarrass him. He only cares about encasing you with his arms, hands wrapped around you in a big hug. He’s not as outwardly affectionate with you as another guy might be, but Solomon delivers some high-quality snuggles. You feel small and safe against him, and that’s all he could ever want. In terms of location, the two of you typically end up in your room. However, on days when the demon boys are at it again, he will coyly invite you into his dorm. He loves when your scent seeps its way into his bedsheets, but he also loves it when his gets lost in yours. Solomon is always left floored by how such simple affection can make him feel so warm and fuzzy. He doesn’t need to worry about spells with you, and you don’t need to worry about anything with him.

🤍 Simeon: Similar to Levi, Simeon isn’t used to physical touch, but he’s not as shy. Cuddling you sounds as good as heaven, and he relishes in the feeling of your soft skin against his. Another true switch, in my humble opinion, he is content with being a big or little spoon. He’s an angel, and his greatest concern is how comfortable you are at all times. He’s inexperienced, so he will more-than-happily follow your lead. He never moves without your consent. You might have to reassure him a few times that moving is totally fine. In fact, it’s welcomed. Once he gets that through his noggin, he finally relaxes into you. From behind, Simeon grazes his hands over your stomach, loving the warmth you emit. If you’re behind him, he’ll seize the opportunity to clutch his hands in yours, loving the feeling of your head on his shoulder. He sleeps so much better with you.

#obey me headcanons #obey me #obey me!#obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me fluff #fluff #demon boys

523 notes · View notes

eliwray · 2 years ago

Text

Short one today. I need to talk just a second about sensory sensitivities. You get visual aids this time, see below.

A VERY LARGE AMOUNT of the stress of being autistic, and why autistic kids especially can have just a brutal time managing their world, is that taking in sensory information - SIGHT, SOUND, TOUCH, TASTE, RHYTHM, MOVEMENT, BALANCE - and processing it in a way that doesn’t just echo down each nerve in a jangling cacophony of neurological dysregulation is REALLY DAMN HARD. Each element just so easily becomes way too much OR is numbingly way too little input. And I’m talking about sensory information both around us and within us. Proprioceptive (a sense of our body in space) and interoceptive (internal sensations) input can also be a lot… or too little to help us. The tags on clothes, figuring out hunger cues, eating food every day, all kinds of hair-related challenges, bright lights, electronics buzzing, loud crowds, music playing literally EVERYWHERE that we didn’t pick and may have a rhythm that is just not freaking okay when all I need is to reach the damn frozen mac and cheese before the Karen in front of me yells into her phone ONE MORE DAMN TI-

*ahem* excuse me.

Anyway. Our world is not suited to people with sensory processing challenges. And every day it gets less suited to it. Wolfe’s world, I’m gonna be honest, is often probably better on this. Quieter. Slower. But then also? War is war. And shitty roads are shitty roads. And who knows what the deodorant situation is there.

This is the point in my mini-essay where I usually get specific with support from the text. But as I said, I’m writing this from memory, well before a reread. And this subject will take a close read to find support for, because by their nature, these moments will be nearly invisible in the text. Outside a few chapters and letters, we only know Wolfe’s inner life from the choices he makes in managing it. And, see my masking point above. This is the exact stuff Wolfe would hide. I think moments of crabbiness, any moments resembling stimming or numbing, and moments of risk-taking (as sensory-seeking behavior) will be flags worth our attention regarding sensory management. (Also, sensory input is going to come up in our next point, so keep hold of this thought.)

Additionally, management of sensory input is very closely related to the issue of how autistic attention/focus works; this is brand new work going on, but the term coined for it now is monotropism. Monotropism is probably going to be the biggest gap in what I want to give you in this series, both because I’m still grasping it and because it’ll also take a closer read for specific interactions.

The first image here is a little look at how expression of sensory challenges can vary. Many, many folks have some combo pattern of seeking and avoiding sensory input. The comic about tendrils is related to monotropism.

Alrighty, there’s 2 loooong posts to go! We are now on page five of a nine page gdoc…

Hi there! So this series of posts is written by an autist - nearly a year out from a late diagnosis - and I am sorting out a looong resonance with Christopher Wolfe and building a case for him being autistic.

The idea that Wolfe is autistic isn’t going to surprise anyone ever! But my reasons for it might surprise you, depending on what you know about autism. So, without further ado, let’s start what will inevitably be a lot of words on this topic.

First, a few words about autism. Like many things in oppressive systems like ours, a personal perspective of autism built on information passively gathered in our culture can easily be chock full of misinformation. Autism has been overwhelmingly defined by non-autistics describing how autistic kids’ trauma-induced behavior impacts other people, rather than the lived experience, gifts or needs of actual autistic people of any age. I would encourage actively seeking out input from actually autistic people, in order to be informed.

Quick terminology note: ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder) is a list of problems made by non-autistics and put in the DSM. Autism is a neurodivergence that I have a lot of pride in. The largest overlap of the two is, again, what non-autistics get bothered by in autists with PTSD from being mishandled all our lives. Living and thriving with and inside autism is a whole other ball of wax from that.

I’ll mention this too, because it’s the largest misconception and it impacts Wolfe’s characterization. Non-autistics decided at some point that autists have no empathy, when in fact most autists are easily overwhelmed by an abundance of empathy for other people, animals, and even objects. Check out “the double empathy problem” for further information, but the gist is, empathy works VERY differently for autist and nonautist brains, and communicating across that gap is fraught and complicated. And nonautists have the power to define most everything about mental health. And they decided a long time ago that the miscommunications mean autists have no feelings or compassion. That is incorrect.

Okay. Next up, Christopher Wolfe, autist. This will be a nonexhaustive list of ways he embodies autism, which I thought would come with a reread later this year but my brain wouldn’t let go of until I started writing it!

More to come.

#the great library #christopher wolfe

59 notes · View notes

angelyuji · 3 years ago

Note

I also love Yan!Spiderman, there will never be enough content for him ! Can I request a headcannon ? Or a blurb, whatever you prefer ? I love the amnesia trope, like the reader having long-term amnesia after an accident or whatever and yan!Spiderman swooping in, saying they have been dating for months... You may get suspicious of how flustered he gets but he knows so much about you, he can't be lying, right ? 😚

17+

cw// stalking, non-consensual picture taking, kind of kidnapping, familial neglect, car accident caused by superheroes, non-consensual kissing, non-consensual touching, forced hugs, lying, manipulation, “gatekeep, gaslight, girlboss” energy, implied murder, peter being a crybaby to guilt trip you, idk peter being gross and pervy and being a liar, toxic relationship (kind of because you’re kinda not aware of the fact that he sucks and he’s lying)

· OMGBESTIE sorry i just absolutely ADORE the amnesia trope in yandere fics GHJKJHGF

· it’s just so perfect *chef’s kiss*

· anyway

· you got into accident that totally not caused by peter…yeah, it was totally definitely the criminal’s fault …

· but i mean, why were you driving in the middle of a villain attack anyway? oh, you had to go to work?...so??? peter didn’t give you the ok?????

· right, so he’s tossing cars and trying to bring justice (or something like that) and he saw you coming, but alas, he's too late

· you see something hurtling towards your car as you stop at a red light. you squint your eyes, “oh. ha, that’s a car…wait”

· peter was only a couple feet away when he sees the truck he threw slam against the hood of your car, crumpling the hood like it’s made of aluminum foil. time moves in slow motion as peter tries to reach you. out of reflex, peter shoots his webs to move you from impact. he can feel himself move, but his mind shuts down. when he regains consciousness, you’re in his arms, passed out, but seemingly unscathed. he feels relief, then fury. peter barely noticed when the paramedics came to move you out of his arms. he turns to the villain, his whole body shaking, and launches himself at the man.

· you end up in the hospital for a brain injury that left you in a coma and peter literally never left your side. he came every day and stayed by your side until visiting hours were over, and came into your room at night as spiderman after patrol.

· the hospital staff saw him so much that they assumed you were both in a relationship, so when you woke up at night during his patrol hours, they called him first.

· they called your parents after…weird, i know

· “how do you feel?”

· “fine, i guess. tired, surprisingly” you chuckle dryly and the doctor smiles.

· “fine is good. what’s the last thing you remember?”

· “…um….i can’t… I don’t-”

· “hey, it’s okay. take your time.” the doctor tries to be reassuring, but you feel panic bubble. what’s going on, why can’t you remember what happened? what’s happening to you? your breathing turns rough and the air feels thicker as you seem to remember less and less of what you should know. all of a sudden, two arms wrap around you and pull you into them.

· “it’s gonna be okay” they mumble into your hair as you cry into their shirt.

· peter and the doctor eventually figured out that you were missing 4 years of your life. the 4 years that you’ve lived in queens, to be exact.

· peter realizes exactly what he has to do when the doctor pulls him and your family aside to explain the situation

· (they had asked him who tf he was and he, in a panic to not be kicked out, said y’all were dating)

· he offers your family a way out, a way to not take the stress of taking care of you, by letting him take care of you

· “i love them. i can’t lose them and i won’t lose them, so please, let me take care of them”

· honestly, your family was lowkey relieved that peter offered to take care of you, not even remembering that you have never mentioned this man in any conversation (who has amnesia now??)

· peter would go into your room and tell you that you’re going home with him

· “what? what about my family?”

· “they’re okay with it. they have a lot going on and, as your boyfriend-”

· “boyfriend? i’ve never seen you before in my life?”

· “no! no, we started dating when you moved to queens!" at your blank stare, he lowers his head slightly and you see tears fall, "i wish you would remember”

· peter will pull out his pictures of you saying stuff like “then how do i have these pictures?? hmm????” and fake crying to make it seem like he was your grieving boyfriend

· he’ll be constantly mentioning the fact that he’s your boyfriend to you and to others (at some point, ur confused on whether he’s trying to convince you or trying to convince himself) “as your boyfriend’ “your boyfriend” “i love being with you and going on dates haha yk since im your bf”

· he’ll make up different stories from places he’s seen you. if he stalked you while you were walking at the park, he’ll say you both went on walks often. if you went on picnics by yourself often, he’ll say you constantly had picnic dates. had a fun day at the arcade? more like, you had fun day at the arcade with peter!

· peter’s smart, he uses these events as a way of tricking your brain into thinking that each memory you recover of these moments are just moments that are missing him, and eventually, he’ll start appearing in memories

· peter would take you to his apartment and absolutely REFUSE to let you leave, he’ll have an excuse ready to make sure you can’t leave your new home

· “the doctor said you shouldn’t move too much”

· he’ll make you sleep in the same bed as him, go on dates with him, hug and kiss him like “you used to do” with the excuse of “the doctor said you should do things that you used to do before the accident to start remembering everything”

· …riiight

· “are you coming to bed?” you lay in his bed, waiting for peter.

· “i-i sorry, yes, I-” peter stumbles on his words as he stands by the bed.

· you sit up in annoyance, “peter, you said we slept together. what’s wrong?”

· peter turns bright red, “no! nothing’s wrong! it’s nothing, i-i’m coming to bed in a sec.” you lay back down and soon you feel him crawl into bed. you turn your back to him, but peter pulls you closer to him and start leaving kisses down your back.

· “what are you doing.” you whisper into the darkness. his small touches feel foreign on your skin and your body itches to move in disgust.

· “i’m helping you sleep. uh-before, i helped you fall sleep like this, maybe this’ll help you remember” peter pushes his head into the crook of your neck and holds you closer, his fingers grazing under your shirt and feeling your stomach.

· you try to move away without panicking, “maybe, we’re moving too fast? i kinda need some spa-” you feel peter freeze.

· “do-do you not love me anymore?” you feel peter’s tears before you hear his sniffles, “i didn’t want to push you, but i just missed you so much and i thought that you were starting to remember how much you love me.” his sniffles turn to sobs and you start feeling guilty. you push your discomfort away and let yourself get pulled into his warmth.

· “no, it's fine. just don’t, you know, cry please.” you press your lips into a thin line and sigh as peter stops sniffling and hums in content.

· he’ll guilt you into doing what he wants with tears and sobs about how he misses “the old you”

· funny, considering the fact that this mf basically made up his entire relationship with you because he’s literally psychotic

· your relationship would be seemingly normal too, except that all of the friends that talked about how they’ve never met peter before your accident went missing…huh, definitely no connection there…

· but by the time they inform you of their concern, it is already months after your accident and peter would have already made you believe that you were dating

· in peter’s mind, you’re everything and more than he imagined, even though you barely know him, he knows you so well that it’s easy for him to make you believe that you’re together.

· peter would tell he’s spiderman once you’ve stopped resisting him to make sure that you won’t search up your accident and see that spiderman was involved

· the only way for you to break from peter’s grip on your mind is for him to accidently confess that he’s lied to you

· and that’ll happen, peter may be good at lying, but during a fight, he might let it slip

· “I TOLD YOU NOT TO TALK TO THEM.”

· “they’re my friends, peter. you can’t stop me from seeing them.” you roll your eyes when peter’s face crumples. “ugh, peter, stop with the guilt-tripping. your fake tears don’t work on me anymore.”

· peter’s face turns cold, “your friends are liars and they’ve been trying to break us up since the accident. all they say when they see me are lies.”

· you keep a straight face, “well, i know it’s a lie, so you don’t have to act like this.”

· “but-but what if you start believing them? what if you realize that you can do better than me? what if you remember everything? what if they make you break up with me? wh-” peter turns to you and sees you frozen in place. he moves towards you and pulls you into a hug, but you stay stiff.

· “what do you mean “remember”?” you whisper and peter’s eyes go wide. silence fills the room as peter says still.

· “well, shit”

190 notes · View notes

jamiedc-they-them · 3 years ago

Text

I got you (Platonic)

Requested by @emcon-imagines

“Jemma --” Daisy said, as much as she loved her friend, she knew that she still wasn’t at the top of her lying game. To be honest, she hoped that Jemma never made it there, as if that would signal some sort of end to the Jemma Simmons she knew.

Still, back on point, “Daisy...I promised Y/N…” She said. And, that did get her attention, she had promised you something.

“I just wanna help her, Simmons. I mean, you’ve seen her...Tired, not herself. Not the bubbly person we all know. Something’s going on…” She knew how this would seem to anyone else; someone interrogating someone, almost gaslighting in some way to get some information.

But, the two women knew better; it was two friends trying to help another.

Besides, the three had formed their own group; the term “power puffs” being thrown around a lot. Still, not the point --

“I didn’t just swear and drop my concern, Daisy. I wanted to help too…” She trailed off, and Daisy nodded for her to continue, “I did to her that she would probably get yelled at...but, she brushed it off at the time. I don’t think Fitz’s sarcasm helped it either.”

“What’d he say?”

“‘What’s the worst thing that could happen? I mean, yeah, you’ll probably get yelled at, but it’s not like she’s going to kill you.’ And I said, ‘Not helping’ and...Oh, sorry.” She said, catching herself.

Daisy smiled, “It’s alright, Jem. Just, tell me, please. I’ll stop after that.”

Jemma could never say now the puppy dog expression Daisy Johnson could pull off, “...That’s the problem, she isn’t stopping.But, she told me to not bother you about it. She knows how you can be with this and...she doesn’t want to worry anyone else. She says she can handle it.” The Brit said, almost in one entire breath.

“Famous last words, sadly in some cases.” Daisy said, looking out the window before back to Jemma, “Where is she now?”

As Jemma went to answer, her gaze changed; she looked alert, “Well...there.” She said, nodding her head behind Daisy.

The woman turned, seeing you walk in, bag over your shoulder from yet another assignment...yet another few months undercover.

If you were good at hiding the strain of the work before, this was not one of those times; with the heaviness in your eyes, worn down expression and posture of your body.

It was getting to you.

Daisy then looked to Jemma, giving her friend a pat on the arm, “I got this.” She promised, before taking her leave.

She wasn’t one to break them.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You had put the weapons away, and was getting ready for the ebrie. Just ready to get that ticked off, then wait until the next job comes your way. You had to keep going, SHIELD was always cut throat, but especially now; you were on the back foot and what not. You had to prove yourself to Coulson, he brought you and Daisy in and kept you in despite what you had done to them.

That had to be worth something.

You went with your bag, a bag mixed with your own things and the contents of the sting. Smart? No, not really. But, you were working with limited time. So, you know.

Besides, Coulson had cleared it and said it was fine.

So, you went into the kitchen, gonna go upstairs to get it all done with, when you paused…

There, on her laptop, was your sister, just typing away.

Given the fact of the bottle of water she had was only just opened, you had to guess that she had only just set up.

“Hey.” She said, looking up at you from the table, smiling as if you hadn’t caught her in the act.

“Hey.” You said back, dropping the bag to the floor. You both held each others stare for a moment too long; you had been in each others lives for forever, so you could read each other like a book.

“Been there long?” You asked, hands going in your pocket. You knew the answer, but still…

“Nah, just waiting for you.” She said, moving to sitting on the table, legs dangling off of it, “Just wanted to see if you were ok.”

You held your arms out to your side for a moment, a kind of “here I am” gesture, before letting them slap against your body as you let them drop, “I’m ok...Just want to get up there.” You said, pinching your nose as you closed your eyes for a moment; a rare moment of letting this toll be known to the world in a way that was intentional.

Daisy saw a way in there, “You tired? I mean, sleep deprivation and mental health issues don’t really go hand in hand...You’re gonna snap.”

You nodded, same posture as before, “Sure. Just wanna get up there and do this, D.”

“Coulson doesn’t need it right now.”

“He does.” You argued.

She sighed, the Johnson gene of stubbornness surely rubbing off on you, “Look, Y/N/N, I get it. But, AC -- Well, DC, is more than ok with this. Trust me.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll do shit like that when you do.” Ok, fair; did it hit? Yeah, but she wasn’t a sunken battleship yet...that phrase was weird.

Anyways, “Y/N,” She started, getting up and grabbing your hands in her own, looking you right in the eyes, “You’re tired, ok? Actually tired….I mean, look, you can barely stand right now. What you need, is rest. Ok?”

Out of the siblings, you weren’t as open as she was. But, as said before, she knew you better than anyone else. And, because of that, you could be yourself with her. You let yourself nod, eyes dropping to the ground. She squeezed your hands, smile coming onto her face.

It was like that Skye part of her, the inner child of her’s that needed healing was alway there; the optimist that refused to see the dark.

Still, she grabbed your bag, putting an arm around your shoulder, and leading you to your room.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your room was a fucking mess. Jesus, was it a mess. Now, Jemma had told Daisy that she had no one touch it; no one go in or even put their hand on the door knob.

But...it was messy, to say the least.

The two of you stood, silently looking at the state of your room; clothes everywhere, doors left open, bed sheets unorganised.

She heard your breath shudder a bit. It seemed you had forgotten that the room was left like this. Then again, she was sure you were almost leading two - well, now really more than two - lives at once; SHIELD, your own, and the many undercover personas you had to adapt to.

Hunter’s lecture about SHIELD not being a lifestyle but a job was true; granted, it was a belief in the world and the good that laid in it, but he still had a point.

It seemed for you, those two had fully blurred into on destructive, stress filled life. And it was slowly killing you.

You entered first, grabbing some clothes from the floor and going into your bathroom, locking the door.

She, meanwhile, went to your bed, smelling them and groaning at the stink that came from them.

She put the bag down, picking up some of your other clothes - less yours, more SHIELD’s clothes that they gave to operatives.

There was no style, only a branded shirt (some actually were, but that’s not the point) to say “Shoot at me, I’m with the people you guys at HYDRA hate!”

She put them away, the clothes coloured black. She remembered when you used to have a more colourful attire, an expression to who you were.

No, it was just SHIELD.

After the clothes had been sorted, she then sat on the floor, opening the bag. She looked up at the sound from your bathroom, a shower being turned on.

She looked back to the bag, seeing bags of cocaine, some files...and your clothes. One of the bags had a hole in, and some of the contents had gone from the bag and onto your own clothes. These ones were yours...now stained with coke.

With work…

The shower was still going. And she knew that you were devoted to these people...but what had you lost in the process?

She went further into the bag, digging deep into it. It took a few moments, but she found something, her fingers brushed against something…

Removing her hand from the bag, she found a necklace; she smiled, this one more nostalgic. It was a necklace that you had both gotten together with some money you had both saved. Inside there was a photo of the pair of you…

You’d kept it, you were still there.

She looked to the door, the shower was still going. She looked to the clothes...she could make a quick trip…

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She came back, clothes in her possession, but no bag. The bag was with Coulson, but the clothes and necklace she kept.

She came back in, putting the clothes on the bed. The door opened, and you emerged, now in sleep gear.

“Hey.” You said.

She smiled, “Hey.” She said back.

“Can - can you uh, can you stay for the night? Just...after all that, and what you said...I think I could use a break…?”

Her smile softened, “Of course.” She said.

You were still you...you still had your own life.

SHIELD wasn’t your lifestyle, just a belief in the world and a job.

#daisy johnson imagine #daisy johnson x reader #agents of shield x reader #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d imagine #agents of shield imagine

77 notes · View notes

luffles424 · 4 years ago

Text

Luminous

☼ Pairing: Jimin x reader

☼ Genre: tentacle monster!Jimin, some fluff, smut, mostly just pwp

☼ Count: 9k

☼ Warnings: 18+, public sex (no ones around but they’re on the beach), tentacles (kind of a given), big dick jimin, manhandling, lots of cum, some cumplay, creampie, cum inflation/belly bulge (not a whole lot, just a small bump) unprotected sex, restraints, choking, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, tit fucking, thigh fucking, oral (m recieving), deep throating, anal, double penatration, minor nipple play, praise kink, mating cycles, slight impreg kink

☼ Summary: The Busan summer festival is your favorite event of the year. You like all the food and things to do, but your favorite part is watching the fireworks at the end of the night, gathered with friends and family. It’s fun and joyous. Except this year you’re spending it without them. So you find a secluded spot on the beach to watch alone. Except... you might not be as alone as you thought you were out here.

☼ a/n: This was written for Sol’s (jamaisjoons) collab event ‘The Summer Bucketlist’ and my prompt was ‘watching fireworks.’ Uhhh this idea was originally very different and then I started thinking about tentacles and now here we are 🥴🥴🥴 Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! My ask box is always open ~ 💙💙💙💙

☼ Banner made by the absolutely amazing @jamaisjoons (who did such wonderful work on it and I hope the fic lives up to the beautiful banner she made me 💕💕💕)

You let out a small contented sigh as you slip your feet into the water. This is your favorite place in all of Busan, this hidden little jutty of rock just off one of the smaller, less popular beaches, more popular among locals only. You’ve spent more time than you can count out here hanging out with your friends, passing the time and using the salty sea breeze to help combat the heat of summer. You’ve been out here plenty on your own too, just like how you’re out here alone right now.

The sun’s dipping below the horizon, the sky slowly turning an inky black. The perfect backdrop to what’s going to happen soon and the main reason you’re out here at all to begin with rather than at home. The summer festival is happening and once the sun disappears, the sky will be decorated with fireworks, and you and your friends discovered years ago that this is the best spot to watch them, unobstructed and no one around to fight for seats.

You kick your feet idly in the water, enjoying the warmth of it as you lean back on your hands as you watch the last few rays of light slip away. You wished your friends could’ve made it though. But Namjoon was stuck in the city for work and Taehyung was out with his girlfriend at the festival. A brief feeling of sadness overcomes you because you had been planning to go with Taehyung and his girlfriend and your own boyfriend as a double date. Until he dumped you a week ago over text because he’d moved to the otherside of the country and apparently was nothing like the man you met since he didn’t even have the balls to break up in person.

You suspect that there was a lot more than his flimsy excuse of it’s just not working and long distance is hard. It most likely has something to do with the new girl that you’ve been told about that has shown up on his socials.

For what it’s worth, Taehyung and Namjoon both offered you company but you waved them off. Namjoon’s job opportunity is much more important and as much as you love Taehyung and his girlfriend, you didn’t particularly feel like being third wheel to their (normally adorable and heart warming) love.

You think this is better anyway. It’s peaceful out here. The smell of salt being carried by the breeze brings a myriad of memories that all bring a smile to your face and it’s easy to forget about the hard things in this moment. It’s healing to be out here. As much as it sucked that you got dumped, you can’t be too upset. You saw the cracks forming the more he opened his mouth and talked, if he hadn’t done it, you likely would have been doing it soon anyway. You let your head fall back, letting your eyes slip closed as you simply enjoyed this. You should tell the others that you all need to make another trip out here soon.

Plus you’d come much earlier when the sun was still high and swam some. Using the ebb and flow of the ocean to erode your worries and stress. Then you’d sprawled out on your beach towel on your rocky perch and let the sunset dry your skin before you slipped back into your shorts and tank top and allowed the peacefulness to swallow you.

You startle slightly when there’s a loud, echoing boom and color flashes across the sky. You’d been lulled into such calmness and had almost forgotten why you were out here to begin with. You watch the sky passively, watching the occasional flash of color and shapes as the firework people warm themselves and the crowds up. You know the real show won’t start for at least another 45 minutes, knowing the tell by the fact that there’s still the faintest of traces of blue on the horizon.

Your feet continue their idle movements in the water, until something slick brushes the bottom of your foot and you scream on instinct, quickly jerking your foot free from the water. You back up an extra foot from the edge, to the safety of the blanket that you spread across the rocks, just as an extra precaution. You’re sure that whatever touched you was probably just seaweed. Maybe a plastic bag or some other trash that someone carelessly threw into the ocean. But anything touching you in the water when the water is nothing more than an inky black expanse is enough for you to decide that’s enough soaking for the night.

Just as your heart rate is returning to normal, something slips over the edge of the rocks where you’d just been sitting. It gleams in the moonlight, silver, smooth, and shiny, as it makes a cursory probe at the edge, like it’s looking for something. It’s probably no thicker than your thumb and you deliriously wonder if octopi are even capable of coming up on dry land, let alone the reason why one might be coming up right now. Though the longer you stare at it, the more you realize that it’s far too smooth to be from an octopus, completely devoid of the telltale suckers.

You shuffle a little further away. You really don’t want to move too quickly, not if you don’t know what it even is and if it can follow you or how fast whatever it is. But your slight movement only seems to catch it’s attention and to your growing horror, it lashes out almost faster than you can see and wraps itself firmly around your ankle. You scream again, because aside from that, there’s really very little you can do out here all alone with it on you.

Any attempts to free yourself prove futile, the slender appendage is far stronger than you would’ve expected from such a jelly-like creature. It gives its own experimental tug, one that pulls you marginally closer to the water before you once again scramble backwards. It lets you and that just serves to freak you out more.

Then, a few more tentacles appear over the edge of the rock, watering dripping and spreading out around them and then there’s a… hand? You frown as a seemingly human hand, if perhaps a little ashen looking, plants itself on the rock right alongside the tentacles. The fingers flex for a moment before something, somehow even more surprising, appears. A fairly human face, or at least up to the eyes as that’s the furthest it raises, peaks up over the edge, gaze quickly zeroing in on you. Your heart stutters in your chest as your eyes meet and its pale silver eyes gleam like its tentacles. It’s hair is wet and slicked back and, though the locks are currently water logged and a few shades darker, it’s clearly also a similar shade of silver as its tentacles and eyes.

Another hand joins the first along the edge of the rocks and for a moment it doesn’t move at all. You stare at it, you know it’s definitely bigger than an octopus now. You don’t think you could take it. It’s dead silent aside from the gentle lapping of the waves and you’re terrified to move for fear of what it’s going to do to you. It gives the slightest of tugs on your ankle and when you don’t budge it finally lifts itself from the water.

You try to back away again, but it’s grip keeps you in place and you let out a startled scream when another tentacle darts out to wrap itself around your other ankle. The… monster… sits on its knees at the edge for a moment after pulling itself from the water.

It, he?, looks almost perfectly human. Skin a dimmed golden shade, frame small but packed with lean muscle… apparently well endowed in human terms. You jerk your gaze quickly away when you realize just where you're staring. Your life is on the line, now is not the time to to fucking ogle the monster and think about if he can get hard like a human and if it possibly gets bigger. You force yourself back to his face, cheekbones prominent and lips plush as he seems to be looking you over as well, though his gaze continually seems to dart behind you, brows knitting in confusion.

His eyes appear almost human except that it doesn’t seem like he has a pupil, silver swallowing the whole of the iris. It’s slightly disconcerting. His tentacles shift behind him, drawing your attention to them finally. The ones not on you shift behind him restlessly, never seeming to settle. A thin one drapes itself on his shoulder before slithering across his skin to the other side, forming a strange sort of living necklace. It’s hard to pin down an exact number with them constantly moving, but there seems to be a lot and they seem to come in primarily two sizes, thinner ones like the one draped around his throat and wrapped around your ankles and thicker ones easily the width of 3 or 4 fingers, you try very hard not to compare their girth with what you had glimpsed between his legs.

You’re trying to formulate a plan to get away when there’s another boom of a firework, bathing everything pink for a moment. And what you’re certainly not expecting is for the way the monster startles at the sound. The tentacles around your ankles tighten almost painfully and then before you can completely comprehend what’s going on, you’re being pulled closer to him. Once you're close enough, he’s leaning down over you and you squeeze your eyes shut, unsure of what’s about to happen but positive that it’s unlikely to be good.

But nothing happens and as the seconds stretch, you slowly peek an eye open. His face is almost directly above yours, but it’s not you that he’s looking at. Instead, he’s studiously scanning your surroundings, looking tense and on edge. When you glance at the way that he’s leaning over you, you realize that he seems to be almost… protecting you? Which only serves to confuse you more.

Deeming there to be no immediate threat, his gaze turns down to you and you freeze now that you're faced with him this close. He blinks down at you before his lips part and he makes a strange sort of clicking sound, but you’re more focused on the sharp teeth revealed when he makes noise. Definitely sharp enough to tear into you and eat his fill.

“Please don’t eat me,” you squeak out, hands coming up to cover your face.

There’s silence for a moment before a deep chuckle sounds from him. You peek between your fingers at him and there’s a smirk stretching his lips.

“Oh, I have met your kind before.” His voice is soft and surprisingly melodious given the higher pitch the clicking was.

You can’t help the words that slip from your lips. “My kind?”

His lips twitch and he tilts his head. “Humans. Are you not human?” He pushes himself up slightly to inspect you again. “You do not appear to be one of my kind.”

“There’s more of you?”

His gaze darts around. “A few.”

You swallow, about to speak again when another firework goes off. He startles above you and drops closer once more, body pressed firmly to yours as he glares around, trying to discover the source.

You’d laugh at his constant startling if your throat wasn’t suddenly so dry. His chest is every bit as firm as it looked and you can feel every shift and ripple as he looks around. It’s incredibly distracting. Why did the monster have to be hot? You squeeze your eyes shut again. You should not be thinking about how it’d feel to touch the monster with your hands. Or how other parts of him would feel.

He shifts off of you slightly. “It is safe for now.”

You blink your eyes open, frowning at him. “Safe? What are you talking about?”

His head tilts and he reminds you of a confused puppy. “Do you not hear the loud noises?”

A giggle slips out and that seems to perplex him further. “No, no. I do. It’s just… Have you not been around here before?”

“I have always lived here.”

“Have you… been on land before?”

His brows pinch and there’s the slightest of flushes coloring his cheeks a deep blue-gray. “I come up here every year.”

“How have you not heard them before then? They’re just fireworks.” You see the streak of a new one and point to it quickly, drawing his attention to it just before it reaches its peak and explodes in a sparkling cascade of gold. “They’re for entertainment. They’re not dangerous.” You pause. “Okay they are. But not at this distance. The only people who could possibly be in danger would be the ones firing them.”

“Fire… works?” He mumbles, sitting back on his haunches as his face remains tilted towards the sky even though the phosphorus has long since burned out. “Will there be more?”

You slowly push yourself up, cautious of what he might do but his focus remains firmly upwards. “Yeah, they’ll keep shooting some singles off for a little bit longer then they’ll start the big show.”

He says nothing else and you wonder if you can use the time to slip away before you realize that he still has two tentacles wrapped around your ankles. There goes your chance for escape. At least he doesn’t seem interested in eating you. Yet.

Another firework goes and you watch his eyes widen as he follows its trajectory up until it stops in an explosion of color and sound. But you’re far more taken watching the childlike glee on his face and the way the colors gleam on his skin and tentacles. The colors add another level to his already stunning looks, making him look far more ethereal and angelic. He grins as he watches and he looks much less like a terrifying monster. Though you worry what will happen once the fireworks stop and there’s nothing to distract him. Maybe when the real show starts he’ll be so engrossed that you can slip yourself free of the tentacles and make a quick and quiet escape.

You shake your head, looking away and up at the sky too. There’s nothing much you can do right now with their grip on you still too tight, so you might as well also watch the show. The fireworks are slowly starting to increase in frequency and he seems to squirm in excitement the closer together the pops of color come.

“Do you have a name?” You ask suddenly, looking back over at him. Maybe you can text Namjoon or Taehyung and tell them that if you disappear to look for something with that name. Probably Taehyung. He’d be more likely to believe that you’ve been taken by a monster than Namjoon. He’d probably ask if you’ve drank or smoked anything. Get too drunk camping once and claim that bigfoot tried to kidnap you and you never get believed again.

He doesn’t answer right away, doesn’t even seem to acknowledge that you spoke. But then his lips purse and he looks over at you for a moment. “Jimin.”

“Jimin?” He bobs his head and turns back to catch another firework going off. “My name’s Y/n.” You murmur, unsure if he’s even interested.

It hurts a little that he didn’t seem interested in you back, but you suppose that you don’t know whatever his monster customs are. And you really shouldn’t look too deeply into why it hurts that a monster doesn’t seem interested in you. That should be a good thing. It means you have a better chance of getting away.

There’s a long break in the fireworks and Jimin’s lips push out into an adorable pout as he turns to you with sad eyes. “Is it over?”

You laugh and shake your head. “No. It’s actually just getting ready to get started. Now it’s the big show. You thought it was good before. Just wait.”

He gives a simple nod and turns back to the sky, content to wait patiently for the rest. Silence descends on you both and you feel like you should be more worried about the tentacle monster sitting in front of you. But Jimin seems harmless enough, he certainly hasn’t tried to eat you or anything and that’s certainly got to count for something. He seems far more interested in the fireworks than in you now anyway.

You’re just starting to relax when something cool and damp brushes the skin of your lower back. You freeze, back stiff as whatever it is tentatively touches the warm skin before slithering further up your shirt. You bite down on the urge to scream, you don’t want to startle Jimin again. Just because he was protective before, doesn’t mean that a scream coming from you would produce the same result. And before you can twist to see what is crawling up your shirt, the tentacles around your ankles slide a little further up your legs, ends timidly probing along your flesh as they go.

Another tentacle, one of the thicker ones, slides across your arm, wrapping once around your wrist and nestling the tip into your palm. The cool sensation is bizarrely familiar and it takes you only a moment to realize that whatever crawled up your shirt a moment ago is another tentacle. You’re about to speak when a thin tentacle trails up your arm to rest against your shoulder, gently tracing your jaw and neck.

You swallow. “Um, Jimin?” All you get is a hum in response. Does he not realize what’s going on? “Jimin? What’s happening?”

Either your words or tone finally pulls his attention to you and when he sees his tentacles wrapped around you, he flushes a pretty blue. He scoots away, working to encourage them to release you, but this time of year they always have a bit more mind of their own. He makes an irritated clicking noise when they don’t move.

The one in your hand seems to respond to his sound though you’re not sure if it’s the way he wanted it to or not but it tightens around your wrist slightly before becoming… slicker?

You look at it, a weird mix of horror and maybe a little arousal. Maybe you shouldn’t have watched so much hentai when you were younger. You look back up at Jimin, at a complete loss. “Jimin?”

Jimin looks incredibly embarrassed, burying his face in his hands and making more distressed clicking noises. Probing tentacles aside, he looks adorable all flustered like this. A few of his tentacles wrap around his wrists and shoulders, patting his skin soothingly but that only seems to make him more distressed.

The tentacle at your back has reached the tie to your bikini top beneath your shirt and is prodding at the knot with interest. You don’t know what to do to stop the distress you can practically feel coming from Jimin. The tentacle in your hand squirms slightly, drawing your attention back to it. You swallow, sneaking a quick peek at Jimin as you do the only, seemingly illogical, thing you can think of right now and you close your hand around the rowdy tentacle and squeeze.

The result is instantaneous and certainly not what you had expected. Jimin moans. So then even if he’s not in control, he can still feel through them. Interesting to know. Jimin’s mouth hangs open for a moment before his gaze is meeting yours and you suddenly feel like maybe that was the wrong thing to do.

There’s simmering fire in his eyes as he tries to speak as calmly and evenly as possibly. “I told you I come here once a year, correct?” You nod and he continues. “I come here to mate.”

You blink at him, mind completely blanking out. “M-mate?” You hate how high your voice sounds.

He nods, sending a glare at the tentacles touching you. “When I saw you here, I had assumed you were one that I have spent the mating period with before.”

“Fuck, did I ruin your hookup?”

“Hookup?”

Your body heats with embarrassment. Maybe if you ask nicely, Jimin will let you go drown. “Whoever you were supposed to meet here. Did they not show up because I was here?”

He’s quick to shake his head. “I did not have plans. But sometimes if someone is near they will stop by. If they are not, I can take care of myself.”

The image of Jimin splayed out on the rocks by himself, tentacles sliding across his skin, wrapped around his cock, drawing more of those noises from him shoots straight to your core. Your pussy clenches around nothing and your hand accidentally tightens around Jimin’s tentacle again, drawing a gasp from him.

“I apologize for not warning you sooner. The fireworks distracted me but it appears that it did not distract them.” He gestures to his tentacles. “Give me a moment and I should be able to free you so you can leave.”

His eyes slip closed and your gaze drags over him, startling slightly when you realize he’s started to grow hard too. You feel crazy that the first thing you think is how badly you want to touch.

This is such a bad idea, but before you can stop yourself or second guess, you’re speaking. “What if... you didn’t though?”

Jimin freezes, but the tentacles seem to grow more restless at your words. Another thick one stretches the distance between you both to rest against your thigh, slicking your skin wherever it touches.

“You do not know what you are saying.” He grits out.

The tentacle in your hand squirms and you give it a small squeeze, maintaining eye contact with Jimin as you do so you get to fully enjoy the shudder that ripples through him. “I um, think I have a pretty good idea what I’m saying.”

He shakes his head, hair falling over his eyes. You didn’t think it would be so hard to convince a tentacle monster that you wanted him to fuck you. This was by far the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. For all you know, he could eat his partner afterwards. If you live past this encounter, no one would ever let you live it down. If they even believed you. Your gaze drops involuntarily back to his cock and you find that he's fully hard now. And it’s almost a little intimidating how big he is, longer and thicker than anything you’ve ever taken before. You don’t think your fingers would be able to wrap around the girth. But any apprehensions you think you’d feel normally are nowhere to be seen, all you feel is overwhelming want. You want to try to fit him, to feel the burn as he stretches you out. You want to taste and you want him to absolutely ruin you.

Unsure of any other way to convince him that you do want this, you switch tactics. If you can’t convince him with words, you’ll just have to show him what you want. You release the tentacle in your hand, though it keeps itself wrapped around your wrist, and move to remove your shirt. Seeming to know your plan, or maybe just through a stroke of luck, the tentacle that has been exploring your bikini top seems to have discovered how to undo the ties and as your top hits the ground beside you, your top slips to your lap.

His eyes dip to the scrap of fabric in your lap before they trace slowly back up, expression worryingly blank. You belatedly realize that this might not even be a good signal to him that you do want this. You don’t know what others of his kind look like, if any of them look anything like you. For the most part, he looks human enough, you’d think that maybe this was enough, that maybe this is at least sort of familiar to him. You feel suddenly self conscious, this was such a dumb idea. You really shouldn’t let the horny brain lead. You’re just about to cross your arms to cover yourself when the tentacle that had been on your thigh slithers up your stomach to sit between your breasts.

You glance at Jimin and his eyes seem darker, jaw clenched tight. His tentacles seem to grow more agitated behind him and the ones around your ankles tighten to tug you closer, both to your surprise and apparently also Jimin’s. He flushes, staring down at you with wide eyes as your thighs come to rest against his.

The tentacle on your chest squirms and Jimin’s gaze drops to watch. Your gaze drops too, intending to look at the tentacle currently writhing around on your chest and smearing slick there but you only make it halfway. Because Jimin is now fully hard, thick cock curving up towards his belly and the sight of it has you enraptured. He looked big when he was still soft, but now fully hard, or at least what you assume is fully hard, he looks positively massive. The skin of his cock is the same muted tan of the rest of him, the tip almost blue-gray, close to the color his cheeks turned but deeper in color, and it’s leaking more silvery looking fluid. You wonder if it’s the same thing that is leaking from his tentacles.

Jimin shudders and it takes only a moment for you to realize that the reason is because a thin tentacle has wrapped itself around the base of his cock. It makes you want to touch too. So tentatively, you reach out, gaze flicking between his cock and his face to gauge his reaction and giving him more than enough time to pull away.

He watches your fingers brush against the tip, dragging a smear of slick further down the shaft but he makes no move to stop you. He lets out a shaky exhale and, emboldened by the noise, you wrap your fingers around him. Or you at least try your best to because his girth keeps your fingers from meeting.

Jimin makes a rumbling noise and then there are two more tentacles massaging at your thighs, working their way up until they meet the edge of your shorts. They only probe along the fabric for a moment before slipping beneath and continuing their exploration towards the apex of your thighs. They trace the edge of your bikini bottoms before one of them presses against your pussy through the thin fabric.

You gasp and Jimin’s gaze is back on your face, attention wholly focused on you as his tentacles press again, but this time with a little more pressure. One happens to brush past your clit and you jolt, a moan slipping from your lips and the tentacles seem desperate to recreate that reaction as they narrow their focus to your clit.

Jimin groans again and his hands come up to cup your cheeks, his tentacles all stilling for a moment. He waits until you look up at him. “Are you sure? It will be harder to stop once we start. Are you positive you can handle it? I do not mind spending the time alone.”

It’s sweet how concerned he is about you. But now that he’s started, all you can think about is being fucked by him while his tentacles play with every inch of you. You squirm back slightly and he seems to take that as rejection, if the flash of disappointment you catch on his face is anything to go by. You quickly undo your shorts, tugging them down your legs, assisted by his tentacles once they reach your ankles.

He swallows and you watch as the tentacles from your ankles relocate to your thighs to keep you spread wide as the two that had been in your pants resume their work on your clit, now free of the hindrance of cloth. You bring your slick fingers to your mouth and keep eye contact as you lick them clean. It’s salty like the sea, but rather than the bitterness of cum, his has a hint of sweetness to it. It’s slightly addictive.

He stares at you for a moment and then he’s making another clicking noise and the tentacle that had been around your wrist unwraps itself and slips between your legs to join the other two already there, though it bypasses your clit to circle your dripping hole instead.

“Needy.” He coos, though you’re not sure if it’s directed at you or his tentacles. Maybe both.

He shuffles in close again, seemingly content to just watch his tentacles play with you. You whine, you like the feel of his tentacles, but you want him to touch with his hands and lips too. You want more. Maybe the needy was directed at you after all. He glances up at your noise, watching the way your mouth drops open as his tentacle finally wriggles it’s way into your pussy. It’s firmer than you expected from touching it, but still much more malleable than a cock would be. But it’s softer nature allows it greater freedom to explore your walls as it moves slowly in and out of you, certainly a different experience for you but you definitely can’t find it in you to hate it when it can reach all the right spots inside of you easily.

You reach out, grabbing the first part of Jimin you can grab, his arm, and tug him insistently down on top of you. He complies easily, seemingly curious as to what you want. You wonder if he’s ever kissed a partner before, if that’s something that his kind does. You hesitate and Jimin immediately notices, head tilting in curiosity.

“What is wrong?”

You’re gasping before you can formulate your question, the tentacle inside you having quickly found your g-spot and is now making sure to rub it with every thrust, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. Jimin’s head dips down and his nose rubs against yours.

“Are you okay? I have never been with a human and so I am unsure of what might hurt or bring pleasure. Please tell me if they are hurting you.”

He looks so sweet and it makes your heart stutter a little. You tilt your head, capturing his plush lips in a kiss. They’re warmer than you expected, giving the cooler temperature of his tentacles. It takes him a moment of inaction before he seems to catch on to how to kiss back. He makes a small noise when your tongue brushes his lips but he easily parts them for you. His sharp teeth skim your lip and it leaves you gasping into his mouth. He seems pleased with the response and he trails his lips across your jaw and down your neck.

“You did not answer my question.” He murmurs, teeth gently teasing the skin of your neck, mindful of their sharpness.

His tentacles are driving you mad, bringing you so close to your orgasm but seeming to know exactly when to slow back down to draw it out even longer. “What… question?” You gasp out.

“Are you okay?”

You’d scoff if the tentacles around your clit hadn’t started circling in tandem, winding the coil in your belly tighter. “So… so okay… Fuck, Jimin, are you sure you’ve never been with a human before?”

He pulls away from your neck enough to look down at you, a pleased smile stretching his lips. “I have not. Am I doing good?”

You nod enthusiastically, hands tangling in his hair to pull him back in for a messy kiss. He makes a pleased sort of clicking noise in the back of his throat and his tentacles speed up. And this time when your orgasm draws near his tentacles keep their speed rather than slowing again and you cum, back arching off the blanket as your pussy convulses around the tentacle. His tentacles continue their ministrations and Jimin pulls away to stare down at where his tentacle disappears inside you with wide eyed wonder.

He groans as he watches with rapt attention. “Does it do this every time?”

You squirm, oversensitivity quickly setting in as his tentacles refuse to let up. The borderline painful feeling robs you of words to tell him to slow down and give you just a moment to breath. The tentacle inside of you swells and then everything grows a little slicker as Jimin chokes on a gasp. You struggle to reach out to grasp any one of the tentacles, to just lessen the sensations ravaging your pussy just a little, but before you can even make contact, another tentacle is wrapping around both wrists and dragging them above your head.

“J-Jimin, please…”

Jimin pays you no mind, tentacles working faster under his focused gaze and it doesn't take long for you to be thrown into a second orgasm, though it feels almost like the first one never ended. You cry out, much too loud even if the beach is seemingly deserted right now. You shudder as your orgasm crests and Jimin’s tentacle seems to stiffen inside you before you feel suddenly wetter and stickier and full. The tentacle slips out of you after a few weaker thrusts and a small gush of thick liquid follows and the tentacle suddenly seems much less enthusiastic than its counterparts. Fuck, did that mean…?

“Jimin,” you whine, waiting until he finally tears his gaze away from your dripping pussy. “Do… do your tentacles cum too?”

His head tilts in confusion. “Come?” He thinks for a moment before realization seems to overcome him. “Ah. Do you mean do my tentacles also release?”

Embarrassment creeps over you. Something so clinical shouldn’t have you aching to be filled again when you just came twice and apparently already filled. You nod shyly.

“Yes. They also release. It is to give the best chance of a successful mating.”

You swallow, eyeing the tentacles behind him wearily. “Do they all have to?”

He shakes his head, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “They do not. Only the big ones release. And from those, they do not all release every mating.”

You feel equal parts relieved and disappointed, though you know that you should probably question your disappointment. But you’ve already come this far, no reason to start questioning your potentially bad decisions now.

He tilts his head. “Does it bother you? They do not need to do it near you if it makes you uncomfortable.”

You choke, unsure how to respond for a moment. This whole situation should really terrify and appall you. But you only find yourself growing hotter at the idea of being used by his tentacles and covered in their cum. You chew your lip before giving a small nod.

His eyes trace over your face before he seems to light up and he leans down to press a kiss to your lips. “Does the thought of that arouse you, sweet? I must admit, most of my previous partners were less than enthused about that aspect of mating.”

You groan, wanting nothing more than to bury your face in your hands in shame but Jimin’s tentacles keep your hands studiously bound above your head. Even his own kind didn’t like it. Why were you so weird? He giggles, leaning down to brush your nose with his own. His face is set with a kind smile, but his eyes still dance with mirth and lust.

“I find it very arousing that you like it so much. Tell me what you are thinking about, sweet.”

To punctuate his words, another tentacle slips between your legs, rubbing along your sticky slit. You moan and Jimin’s eyes shine with fire. “I… was thinking about you fucking me and filling me up and leaving me all messy.”

He smirks. “I can do that, sweet. Just ask.”

“Jimin, please, fuck me… Fuck, ruin me…”

Jimin’s grin turns positively feral, sharp teeth on display. And for a moment, fear ripples through you as Jimin looks truly like a monster for the first time since he’s surfaced. But then his tentacles shift around him, eager for their chance to touch. Jimin shoos the thick tentacle away from your pussy, the ones around your thighs assisting him in situating you how he wants. He runs the tips of his cock through the mess left there by his tentacle and a pleased chirp leaves him.

“You are already so full. Do you think you can take more?” He purrs.

You nod and his cock presses against your entrance. He presses just the tip in and he stretches your pussy more than the tentacle did. You gasp, breath robbed from you as the stretch borders on too much. But Jimin seems to sense it and pauses with just the tip inside, allowing you all the time to adjust to his massive cock.

Jimin’s hands skim up your thighs, the tentacles resting passively on your clit once again coming to life and the jolt of pleasure has you squirming on Jimin’s cock. His hands rest on your hips, gripping them with bruising strength to keep you from moving. You whimper at the casual display of strength, at the way that he seems to not even be trying to hold you still while his tentacles slowly circle your clit to get you to relax.

Two other tentacles slip up your body, pressing against your breasts and kneading at the flesh experimentally. The sensation is different, while the tentacles don’t have the surface area the way a hand does, they are capable of moving in ways a hand simply can’t. They grope at the flesh, exploring and testing the limits. One brushes past your nipple, causing you to gasp and suddenly both are on the pebbled buds, playing with them to draw even more noises from you. Their motions mimic the motions on your clit and pleasure sparks across your body once again.

The tentacles shift slightly, long bodies draping down the sides of your breasts and then they press the mounds inwards, forcing the flesh together around the tentacle still resting on your sternum. Jimin grunts at the sudden pressure around his tentacle and your gaze drops to watch with fascination as the tentacle starts to thrust into the tight space, silvery tip gleaming with each press through.

Your pussy clenches at the thought of it slipping a little further up and into your mouth, of tasting that salty, sweet slick from the source. A high pitched noise sounds in Jimin’s throat as his hips stutter forward at the feeling of your pussy tightening around him and you moan as he slips a little further into you, stretching you just a little more. Now though, the stretch makes you ache for more, the burn finally passed with the aid of the tentacles playing with your clit and nipples and slowly pulling your pleasure back to the surface.

You really need him to be completely inside of you and when you dig your heels into his ass to try to get him to move, he seems hesitant. His tentacles, however, seem more than thrilled at the idea and more than happy to help you in your pursuit. The ones around your thighs tighten and pull you closer, until Jimin is buried to the hilt in the clutch of your pussy. The noise is filthy, the mess from his tentacle spilling out around his cock to smear on your thighs and drip down your ass.

Jimin goes rigid when he’s fully inside you, eyes trained on where you’re joined. He seems transfixed by the sight of your cunt swallowing down every inch he has. Your whine has his head snapping up to look at your face, drinking in the way you’re moaning. The tentacle between your breasts slips a little further up, tip bumping your chin once before it’s shifting to your lips. Your tongue darts out, swiping through the salty fluid. Jimin shudders, hips flexing where they press into you and you let your mouth fall open for his tentacle to slip in.

Your tongue swirls around the tip and it squirms, pushing in further than you expect and causing you to gag. It pulls itself from your mouth with a pop and you frown at it’s loss before shifting your gaze to Jimin, who seems to be glaring at the tentacle like it did something wrong.

“Jimin?” When he looks at you, you give him an amused smile. “It’s okay. It just takes me a minute.”

His head tilts but the tentacle makes its way tentatively back to your mouth, hovering until you open again for it to slip back in. It goes a lot slower this time, keeping its thrusts shallow. You hum encouragingly, tongue pressing and massaging the underside as it moves and the tentacle slides a little deeper. You gag only slightly this time, much more prepared now, and after a few thrusts you grow used to the intrusion and it can slip just a little bit more down your throat.

Jimin watches for a moment before groaning and then he’s pulling his cock out until just the tip remains before slamming back in. You moan around his tentacle, noise muffled as it delves further down your throat. It stays there for a moment and the lack of oxygen has your head start to spin. Your hands twitch where they’re still bound above your head, but before the real need for oxygen comes and you have to try to alert Jimin that you need to breathe, the tentacle is pulling out, switching to shallow thrusts while you get a quick break to breathe. The sudden rush of oxygen has you feeling nearly euphoric and you can only hope that the tentacle does it again. When you whine around it, it pushes back into your throat and the rest of the whine is muffled by it’s girth.

Jimin’s fingers flex against your hips as he watches and feels how much of his tentacle slips into the waiting warmth of your mouth and with a moan he starts fucking into your pussy with a quick pace. Your hands grab at the tentacle binding you, needing something, anything, to ground yourself as Jimin fucks you senseless. You feel wholly overwhelmed at the way his cock fills you, the way the tentacles swirl around your clit, your nipples and breasts, at the way the one in your mouth begins to stiffen up.

The tentacles shift on your breasts, kneading the soft flesh once again before pinching at your nipples. You moan around the tentacle in your mouth and it gives a shudder before flooding your mouth and throat. You choke slightly, jerking your head slightly at the sheer volume being released into your mouth, far more than you can handle. Spit and cum drip from the corners of your mouth as you struggle to swallow and the tentacle pulls itself from your mouth before it's finished, painting the lower half of your face even more in its silvery essence. Jimin’s eyes gleam at the sight, seeming to become even more frantic with his thrusts.

“J-jimin…” You whine, voice rough from use. You’re not entirely sure what you’d finish that statement with.

“You are doing so well.” He coos and the praise has your mind going fuzzy. “You look so pretty like this.”

He reaches up, sliding a hand through the mess on your cheeks before letting his hand drag the mess back down your body, leaving a shiny trail down your throat, in the valley between your breasts and across your stomach. He slams in particularly hard and you cry out, voice echoing across the empty beach and ocean, much too loud but you no longer care.

Jimin glows golden, the light haloing him and your fucked out mind is sluggish to make sense of the sudden color change. Then you remember why you were out here to begin with and you make the connection just as the resounding boom of the firework follows just after the shower of color. The fireworks show must be finally starting because the next second Jimin is bathed in blue, then pink.

But as quick as your attention was taken by the colorful shadows splashed across Jimin’s beautiful face, it’s taken back as he shifts suddenly, hands leaving your hips to push your thighs together as he continues to fuck you. Your calves come to rest on one shoulder and Jimin uses the new position to fuck you even harder.

Something slick drags along the crease where your thighs are pressed together and a second later a tentacle is pushing into the tight space. Your skin tingles where it presses into your skin and with every thrust it makes through the tight press of your thighs, it bumps the tentacles on your clit. Jimin presses a kiss to your leg and you feel the breath leave him as his tentacle speeds up and he hisses.

The sensations are nearly overwhelming, to the point that you almost miss the new slim tentacle kneading the flesh of your ass. It delivers a pinch to the skin that leaves you gasping and you’re much more aware of it as it runs along the seam of your ass. You squirm, or at least attempt to, because between the tentacles restraining you and Jimin’s firm grip on your thighs, you’re left nearly immobile as you get fucked. The tentacle slips a little further up, gathering some slick before it’s dipping back down to prod at the tight ring of muscle of your hole.

You shudder and if you could move, you’d press down onto the tentacle, force it to fill you because you need it as much as you need Jimin’s cock in you. “Fuck, please, don’t tease…”

Jimin’s face is set in concentration and you don’t think he heard you, except a second later the tentacle breaches your ass. You moan, glad that it was a smaller one to start. It thrusts tentatively, growing bolder as your noises raise in pitch and then a second slim tentacle is joining, slipping past the tight ring of muscle to thrust in counterpoint to the first.

Jimin’s thrusts slow, his head tilting back as he pants. He looks like a sculpture, so beautiful that it aches a little. Something that people should look at and marvel over. A moan slips past his lips as the tentacles in your ass speed up a little, taking some time to also shift apart and spread you open even more.

“You… are endless…” Jimin breaths out. It sounds reverent.

The tentacles slip from you and you have no time to mourn the loss before they’re being replaced by one of the thicker tentacles. The stretch hurts a little, but with so many other things happening to your body at the same time, you’re quickly distracted from the ache. The tentacle stills anyway, allowing you time to adjust to its thick girth.

“You are so full of surprises.” He says, head dropping forward once more to let his gaze rake over your shuddering figure.

The tentacle in your ass thrusts in response to Jimin’s words and when you don’t indicate any pain, both pull out and thrust roughly back in. The tentacle between your thighs and in your ass thrust opposite Jimin, keeping you full and stimulated when Jimin pulls out.

“Please… Jimin please, fill me up, you said you would…” You feel slightly delirious with need, every thrust of his tentacle adds extra pressure to your clit and you feel so close to cumming, teetering on the edge.

Jimin gives you no verbal response, only that of him pressing your thighs together a little harder. A few more thrusts of the tentacle between your thighs has you clamping down on Jimin’s cock and the one in your ass as you cum, body shuddering as the tentacles and Jimin continue to thrust. You squeeze your eyes shut, vision nearly whiting out entirely as your orgasm slams into you. The tentacle between your thighs lasts only a handful more thrusts before its stiffening and releasing, splattering your chest, belly, and thighs in the silver cum. It gives a few weak final spurts before slipping back through your thighs as Jimin parts them once more.

His cock twitches as his gaze falls over you messy form, the normally silvery liquid lighting up in splashes of color with every new explosion that happens above you both. He’s never seen a more beautiful sight. One of his hands lands on your thigh as the other bats his tentacles away from your clit, an action that you're grateful for for only a moment because he quickly replaces them with his fingers. You arch and cry out, jerking your hands with enough force that you seem to startle the binding tentacle and it releases you. Your hands wrap around his wrist, tugging futilely at it to get him to let up.

You moan his name desperately, trying to squirm away from the sensation as his tentacles keep you held close as he continues to fuck you through your overstimulation.

“Can you do that for me one more time? You feel so good when you do that, sweet.”

You whimper. You want to say no, that it hurts a little and that you really don’t think you’re capable of another orgasm. But the pout he wears stops you and you find yourself nodding without even thinking about how you’re going to get past the too much feeling currently overwhelming your body.

Jimin gives you another feral grin, eyes roving over your figure as his fingers work quick circles around your clit. For no experience with a human, he’s an incredibly fast learner. He seems to know your body better than your ex had and the two of you had been together for almost 2 years.

The tentacles on your breasts move to collect some of the slick covering you, smearing it around your nipples as the pinch and play with them, the slick adding a new layer of feeling to the actions.

“Come on, sweet.” Jimin purrs as his cock seems to swell ever more and the tentacle in your ass starts to stiffen.

Another rough thrust and a few twists of his fingers and you’re cumming again with a cry of his name. Your pussy and ass convulses around him and Jimin lets out a series of clicks and chirps as he finally cums, flooding your pussy and ass with more silvery slick. There seems to be a never ending stream from his cock and after a few moments, pressure on your lower stomach makes you look down, groaning at the sight of your slightly distended belly.

Jimin makes a contented noise, rubbing gently over the swell. “You would look so beautiful swollen with my children.”

His cock gives another twitch and a feeble last spurt of cum and Jimin and his tentacles seem to deflate. His chin presses to his chest as he takes in slow, deep breaths. The tentacles all slowly slip from your body and you mourn the slight warmth you lose. Another few moments pass and then Jimin is gingerly pulling his cock from your abuse pussy and gazing over your whole body with almost reverence.

You feel too exhausted to do much more, but you can feel his cum dripping from you, forming a puddle beneath your ass. At least you're next to the ocean for easy clean up. If you had the energy to do that. Maybe in 5 minutes… Or an hour. You can’t even feel your legs right now. You’re pretty sure you’d just drown.

Jimin stretches out beside you, arm coming to wrap around your middle, seemingly unbothered by the fact that it lands in a mess. You blearily realize that his tentacles seem much smaller now too. His head tilts and you realize that he’s watching the fireworks again. Like he didn’t just fuck you within an inch of your life and leave you ruined for anyone who comes after him.

You watch in silence for a while, endeared by Jimin’s ohs and ahs as he discovers new types of fireworks, the different shapes and effects that can happen.

“Jimin.” You call softly. His nose brushes your shoulder in response. “Will… Nevermind. It’s stupid.”

Jimin pushes himself up enough so that he can look down at you, frown marring his pretty face. “What is it?”

You fidget, suddenly hating that you’re naked and still covered in him. You glance over at the water.

“Do you wish to go in, sweet?”

It’s an easy out and you don’t feel strong enough to ask the real question yet, so you give him a simple nod. He grins, scooping you up and gracefully sliding you both into the water, arm wrapped tight around your middle to keep you afloat.

Colors flash around you as you stare into Jimin’s eyes, every color reflected there as well. Before you can second guess yourself, you lean forward and press a kiss to his lips. He lets out a surprised noise and then giggles when you pull away.

“Do you wish to go again?”

Embarrassment fills you and you shake your head. “No. Um…” You take a deep breath. You can do this. “Will I see you again?”

Jimin’s face is unreadable for a painful stretch of time, though you’re sure it’s only a few seconds before he’s grinning. “I find myself quite taken by humans. I could certainly use a guide.”

You grin back, pecking him again. “First lesson, when humans like someone and want to spend time with them and go on dates, they give them kisses.”

He hums, giving you a kiss of his own, just a little deeper than yours. “I think I quite like kisses.” Then he grins and it’s full of mischief. “I think fireworks are my favorite though.”

You snort, prodding him with a finger. “You sure it’s the fireworks you like?”

He makes a thoughtful noise before nodding. “They make you luminous, sweet.”

#bangtanarmynet #btsguild #kwritersworldnet #ksmutclub #magicshopnet #btswriterscollective #bangtanhq #bts x reader #jimin x reader #bts smut #jimin smut #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #jamaisjoons summer collab #tsb event 2020 #tsb collab 2020 #monster au #tentacle au

2K notes · View notes

unprofessional-bard · 4 years ago

Text

Have it Your Way

Unprofessional Bard's Masterlist

Request: yooo you should totally do a nsfw bigby wolf x f! reader 👀 Mr. Wolf going apeshit bc of work stress is lit

Pairing: Bigby Wolf x Female!Reader

Warnings: A lil bit of tension, then pure smut with (fluffy?) after care: Rough oral (m! receiving) and unprotected vaginal sex + fingering & Bigby going beast mode, so a lot of biting and scratching~

Summary: The sheriff is more than grateful to find you in his office after a rough day at work.

Word Count: 3.521

Author's Note: I got a little carried away while writing this sjsnsjdnjss I hope y'all enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it 😅

Enjoy!

Out of the corner of your eye, you see a fast approaching figure to where you were standing. You raise your head to see it's Bigby and he looks- well, pissed.

"Finally," You sigh as his steps slow down when he sees you. His knuckles are bruised and bottom lip cut, not to mention the bandages wrapped around his forearms and elbows. His frown dissolves just a little bit when you show your concern to him: "What the hell happened?"

"Woody happened," He growls and walks into the office before you can reach for his hands to take a closer look at his wounds. You follow him inside quietly and close the door. "What are you doing here, anyway? It's late."

He's right, it's around midnight and it was a little uncharacteristic of you to show up this late and at his office, instead of his apartment.

What you and Bigby have... it doesn't really have a proper name. Two people enjoying each other's company is a light term, fuckbuddies is a little vulgar for the both of you. There's sex, a healthy amount of it, but not too much romance. No romance at all, in fact. You weren't dating or anything, friends with benefits would be the closest term. People probably guessed you two had something going on, but it lacks certain emotions and behaviours to confirm their thoughts.

And you're okay with it. He's a bit of a wreck, truth be told - being this town's sheriff takes its toll on him, but by the gods he's one attractive man. Your relationship with him fit his aesthetic well, too. Surprisingly you hadn't caught feelings for him yet, but seeing him all beaten and tired like a puppy made your heart ache. You felt a strange responsibility of taking care of him, not like a wife and certainly not like a mother... but the instinct was there.

"I've been trying to reach you the whole day," You say calmly, not wanting to get on his bad side. "I got a little worried."

"I was out," He lights a cigarette and turns around to face you, leaning against the desk with crossed arms. "Nothing I can't handle... the usual stuff."

"You okay, though?" You take a step forward and take his chin in your hand gently, studying the cut on his bottom lip. "Come back to my place, I'll take care of this, hm?" You say, indicating his wounds. "If you want, of course."

His frown is still present and he senses that you're afraid: Afraid of pissing him off more and tries to calm himself for your sake, to no avail. He's confused about your sudden closeness - not physically, but because of your offer. You? Want to take care of him? We didn't agree to catch feelings, he thinks and his nose scrunches up with curiosity, trying to understand what was going on.

"Why? Are you a nurse and not telling me?" He takes a drag from the cigarette, but his tone comes off more annoyed than teasing and he notices the shift in your tone when you reply.

"Christ Bigby," You roll your eyes and turn around to leave. "If you want to be alone, just say so."

Before you can reach the door handle, he grabs your wrist to stop you, turns you around and places his hands on your waist. Your annoyance dissipates the moment his eyes lock with yours: "I didn't say I wanted to be alone..." He pulls you closer while pushing you against the door, then places a ghostly kiss on your jaw: "I need you."

"Here-?" You try to ask but when he lightly bites on that soft spot he knows so well on your neck, you interrupt yourself with a quiet gasp.

"Here..." He growls, suddenly gets impatient and kisses you deeply. His tongue is quick to find yours and you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, which he takes it as his cue to grab your thighs and lift you up. Another gasp mixed with a soft moan leaves your lips when your core brushes against his erection - you'd worn a slip dress before going down to his office, so his hands easily sneak under it to push it up until your upper thighs reveal themselves to him. He was too busy giving all his attention to your lips that he was caught a little off guard when his growing erection met with your clothed pussy.

You're a little overwhelmed by how he's trying to hold back, because he's angry and clearly wants to blow off some steam, but doesn't want to hurt you in the process - it excites you and you want him to be rough, actually, so you bite his bottom lip when he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of where your thighs meet your ass. He pulls back suddenly and for a terrifying moment you think you bit the cut part- you didn't mean to hurt him, but luckily he doesn't seem hurt but rather bewildered.

He holds your gaze for a torturous few seconds and you just squirm against him impatiently: He hears your heart rate pick up and it's because you're excited, so he asks: "You want it rough, sweetheart?" You nod in fast motions, expression somewhere between desperate and aching and it makes him harder, if that was even possible. "You sure? I won't be gentle-"

"Just fuck me, Bigby," You whine, to his surprise. "You're angry: Go ahead, take it all out on me."

You feel his growing nails dig into your skin, then he kisses you once more, rougher than any kiss you shared with him.

There's a moment when you're spontaneously turned on by one another: The thought of him fucking you until you forgot your name made you literally anxious (in a good way) and to see you this hungry for him drove the sheriff absolutely crazy, which made him rougher and it made you... It's like a vicious cycle.

Your hands are trembling as you devour each other against the door, a desperate need to fuck overcomes the both of you. It's as if, the seven deadly sins were demons and Lust had possessed the both of you. Bigby groans and bites your neck and for a moment you swear his fangs had grown sharper - it startles you and makes you moan.

"Lock the door," Bigby growls into the crook of your neck and drops you after you nod in his arms. You hear him clear his desk at the speed of light as you turn to lock the door, but before you can turn back around, he grabs your hips and places kisses along your shoulders. The heat radiating from your body makes him go, quite literally, feral.

"Up," He murmurs after he turns you around harshly and you don't waste a second to jump into his arms. He carries you to his desk with three steps and places you on the empty spot like a trophy. He admires you for a brief moment, admires how ruined you looked and grins to himself: It was all because of him.

You snap him back to reality when you grab his black tie and pull him towards you, placing him between your legs and kissing him. It's a lot more messy this time, all teeth and tongue as he tries to pull his erection out of his pants.

Just then, there's a knock on the door: "Bigby?"

Fuck.

"Bigby, are you alright?"

It's Snow White. The both of you go incredibly still and Bigby feels himself get soft at the sound of her voice.

"I'm busy, Snow!" He growls, angrier than before.

"Is everything okay? I heard a-"

"I'm on a call, can we talk later?" He speaks loudly and you bite your lip at how unfortunate you two are and to calm your breathing down.

"Okay, sorry," She sounds a little offended, but you could care less, because Bigby leans back and away from you after she returns to her office.

"Charming," You take a deep breath then stand up. Bigby looks a little embarrassed and you feel a little awkward, but immediately come up with a solution. Instead of speaking, you pull him back towards you, slowly, by his belt until your back hits the edge of the desk. He gives you a quizzical look, but you just smirk: "We're not done yet."

You keep eye contact when you drop onto your knees not a moment later, and he almost chokes at the sight. He lets you pull his cock out of his pants as he puts his hands on the desk to lean on for support. Your touch (and the view alone) is enough to make him go harder by the second and his knees buckle when you pump him a couple of times. If it were up to you, you wouldn't rush it and take proper care of him, make him sing for you- coax it out of him rather than rush him, but the sheriff was impatient at the moment- and so were you.

A broken moan leaves his lips when you place a kiss on the tip of his cock and take him in your mouth right after. You see him struggling to stand still and his eyes close as you start to bob your head in a steady rhythm, taking more of him with each move forward. You moan around him at how big he felt inside your mouth- not that it was a new feeling or anything, but his cock was a delight anywhere inside you; especially when he hits the back of your throat, just like he did now.

An animalistic growl escapes him, a bit louder than he likes, when he sees just how much of his length you took in your mouth and his hands find themselves in your hair. You grab the sides of his thighs and tap them, signalling him to start moving and let him fuck your mouth. You hear him groan at the feeling, which makes you moan and dip a hand into your underwear to touch yourself. His pace is rough and fast, but the doesn't go too deep for a while and enjoys the feeling without literally choking you.

"Fuck," He grunts out when he hits the back of your throat again and sees his cock completely disappear into your mouth. When you gag, he pulls out to let you breathe, a thin line of saliva connects the tip of his rock hard cock and your parted lips. There are tears at the corners of your eyes, but by god it's so worth it. You retreat your hand from your underwear and smirk at him at the best of your ability while breathing heavily.

"Up," Bigby growls and picks you up from on your knees and sits you on the edge of the desk again. He places himself between your legs, removes your underwear to the side and impatiently (but carefully) inserts a finger inside you.

A trembling gasp falls from your lips as you watch a second finger join the other not long after. You want to tell him that you didn't need him to stretch your walls, so you try: "Bigby, please, I need your-"

"Trust me, sweetheart," But he interrupts, looks into your eyes and stops his movements. "You're gonna need this."

You swear his eyes glow yellow for a moment, but before you can look deeper you throw your head back when you feel a third finger inside you: "F-Fuck!"

"Shh," Bigby smirks and kisses your neck. "You want Snow to hear what we're up to?"

Maybe, you think, but the word gets mashed up and leaves your lips as a shallow moan instead when he does come hither motions with his fingers. You tense around him and the sweet smell of your juices drives him absolutely mad.

That's when he had to pull out, because his claws are out, his fangs and yellow eyes are glowing and you whine at the contact loss. He lines himself by your entrance and whispers against your burning cheeks: "You let me know if anything hurts, okay?"

You quickly shake your head and unintentionally hold your breath, but immediately let it go as soon as he pushes into you.

He's big. Bigger.

"Fuck," You choke out and bite his shoulder through his shirt. He goes still for a moment and allows you to adjust to... a new experience.

"Shit..." He growls and immediately gets rid of his shirt. A round of teeth marks appear on his skin, he looks at it and smirks as you try desperately to not come and make it last a while. Your hands instinctively reach for his hairy chest and connect behind his back. He holds you close by your hips and pushes a little further: "You're so tight, sweetheart..."

You can only moan in his hear, the stretch bringing new forms of pleasure and pain to you, making you dizzy. Suddenly, you move yourself forward and sit yourself on the edge of his desk and completely take in his cock, letting out a cry.

"We should've gone to your place," Bigby breathes and chuckles darkly, then proceeds to fuck you.

You want to reply, but (you guessed it) you can't; you rest your head on his shoulder, ready to bite down in case you got too loud. With your hands and legs wrapped around his back, you let yourself relax in his grip and let him reach deeper into you. You could technically let yourself go completely and he'd still hold you upright, thanks to his hard grip on your shoulder and waist.

Your moans become more frequent and high pitched and his pace is a little out of rhythm, but he's absolutely ruining you.

"Oh Bigby," You whimper, letting him know that you're about to cum.

He's lost, completely, between your moans, heat and trembling legs. Neither of you realise his claws beginning to break through the skin a little, but when he does he immediately switches the place of his hands to the backs of your shoulders. He partly lays you down on the desk and bends himself over as he drives into you, the new angle making him let out a gruttal growl and you lose it. You have to bite on his shoulder again to keep you from crying out as you come undone- A sound so divine and loud (although muffled), it drives Bigby over the edge as well, making him bite you in the neck in return.

Your legs tremble as he empties his seed in you, his cock reaching the deepest parts of your insides and giving you the pleasure of your life.

"H-ah, fuck," You breathe out when he pulls back both from your neck and inside you. He immediately checks for marks and you can see a guilt ridden expression spreading across his face as he calms down.

"You... I'm sorry-"

"Bigby," You interrupt him with a snarky smile, matching with your (literally) fucked state. "I asked for it and you gave it to me. No need for apologies." He still can't help but worry and run his thumb gently across the bite mark on yout neck: "It'll heal by next day."

"Good thing we're fables, huh?" He sighs and you nod as you readjust your underwear and dress, then get off the table with shaky legs which almost makes you fall, but Bigby catches you gently.

"Let's take this back to my place now, hm?" You chuckle against his neck and place a small kiss there.

Reassured, he picks you up bridal style and offers you a small grin: "Agreed."

A second round hadn't crossed your mind while you were going up to your apartment.

He gently sat you down on your bed and asked you if you needed anything. You decided to take a look at his wounds from earlier today, so you sat there and studied the bruises on his knuckles and lips, while his seed continued to make a mess of your panties.

"You wanna stay over, or...?" You offered as he came out of the bathroom and, after taking his clothes of, joined you in bed.

"Let's get rid of this, hm?" He said and helped you out of your dress. It wasn't an intimate moment, per se, but you couldn't help but feel shy when he took your dress off- he hadn't even spared a look anywhere other than your face.

"What's wrong?" He asked, noticing you shying away, still keeping his eyes on yours.

"Nothing," You smiled softly when you realised this and let him help you with your panties.

When he took them off, however, he couldn't help but look down at the mix of cum leaking from your pussy; it made his breath hitch and you bite your lip. He gave you a look- the look...

... and that's how you ended up face down on the bed with Bigby right above you, pounding into your pussy. Your knees were holding your lower half up, while your arms were under your pillow and your face was resting, or rather, buried in it. Bigby's claws made their presence known around your hips and waist, then one hand reaches into the back of your neck and firmly holds it, pressing you down more. He throws his head back and closes his eyes, moaning at the pleasure- pure pleasue. The sounds in your room are just a mess of skin slapping against skin, the occasional creaking of the bed and your constant moaning mixed with his.

He's close and so are you, you've had your relationship going on for long enough to understand when he's going to cum and vice versa, his pace becomes faster than you thought possible and you clench down on him. He sneaks his arm under your chest and pulls you up against him, on all fours. You're holding yourself up by the underside of your forearm and hand, while one of his hands grabs at your breast and squeezes it as he lets out yet another growl.

"Ah- Bigby," You breathe out and hold onto his arm across your chest. He inhales your scent deeply and with sounds close to brief shouts, he finally comes, once more, inside you. He sees the stars when he does and it triggers your second orgasm.

An earth shattering experience to say the least.

You both collapse to the left in a spooning position, breathing hard. He gently pulls out of you while holding you close: "Fuck..."

"Indeed," You chuckle, mind hazy with the aftershock and eyes closed, calmly resting in his embrace. Once he manages to recollect himself, which is a few long minutes later, he immediately starts searching your body for the marks he left. "Bigby, I told you it's fine-"

He simply ignores you and continues feeling guilty as he stares at them: "I... I'm really-"

"If you say I'm sorry one more time, I'll kick your ass," You smirk, looking at him with lazy eyes. You're too content -satisfied and utterly fucked- to move, the heat making it easier for you to fall asleep: "Sheriff or not."

He smiles at you fondly and kisses your shoulder- he seems more at ease: "Okay... Let me clean you up, then."

You hum, agreeing and letting him slip off the bed. Nothing seems to be significantly important to you at that moment. Perhaps tomorrow, things will go back to being difficult, but at that moment, it was just you and Bigby.

He comes back with a warm, wet towel and proceeds to clean your inner thighs. The sight made him feel a couple of things at once: A type of warmth, not caused solely by lust but the type that painted his cheeks red with... fondness? Sincerity? Something much more?

He didn't want to think or talk about it, even though the former was a bit impossible as he was cleaning and admiring your ruined state with an unintentional sprinkle of guilt. He then starts cleaning the small amount of blood that drew and you let him, not without adding: "If you feel that bad, you can make it up to me by coming here..."

He watches you pat the empty spot he was lying on moments ago and he complies, drops the towel on your nightstand after he's finished cleaning you and crawls under the sheets.

You slowly turn around and place your half asleep form on his broad chest, spreading an arm across it and lay your head on where his arm and body meet, dozing off as soon as you felt one of his arms around your waist and the other on your hand.

Sleep quickly catches up with Bigby too and his eyelids slowly start to close, his nose against your hair and an extreme comfort surrounding him because of your presence; right before he closes his eyes, his own thoughts echo in his mind: We didn't agree to catch feelings...

Oh, no.

#bigby wolf smut #bigby wolf fanfic #bigby wolf imagine #bigby wolf x reader #bigby wolf x you #bigby wolf x y/n #the wolf among us fanfiction #the wolf among us imagine #the wolf among us x reader #the wolf among us #smut #x reader #twau x reader #twau imagine #twau fanfic #twau fanfiction

601 notes · View notes

abbynx · 4 years ago

Text

La Squadra Esecuzione as Best Friends Headcanons

Formaggio - Very chill, first and foremost, he is down for anything to do. Videogames? He'll try to beat your ass. Cat cafes? Heck ye he is down - The type of friend who will coax you to cut class to hang out behind the school or climb over the school fence to hang around the local arcade or theatre. But if he get caught, he won't snitch and he's willing to take responsibility. Begrudgingly. - Ohhhh physical touch is bare minimum for him. He'll occasionally lean on you, perhaps shrink himself to fit himself in your pocket just to platonically cuddle and perhaps, use you as a transport. - Will high five you as a greeting, and will high five you as a farewell. Usually followed by a hug too uwu "Bro!" He holds his hand out for a high five, in which you instinctively grant him one, when he also entwines his fingers through yours and pulling you for a hug, patting your back for a second and pulling away. "I missed you bro!" - Prepare for dumb jokes, dumb puns that he effortlessly come up with as time goes by. You can't go on a day without him cracking a joke. You'd either roll your eyes at it or laugh along with him. There's nothing in between "You see that guy over there, bro?" He leans on you, arm draped around your shoulder as he points at a person from afar. "Yeah, what?" "I say... You'd be a perfect match." You glanced at him, hearing him shake a box of matches as he wiggled his eyebrows with a dumb grin. - *Finger guns and bro intensifies* Illuso - That weird person you don't see yourself associating yourself with somehow befriended him for some reason. Most likely started when you both started to wake up at 3 AM and meet in the middle of the dark, in the kitchen, wanting to grab something to eat. At first it is awkward, but soon you learned to bond through it! And soon enough, your midnight chats extended to become actual friendships! - Seems distant, but he cares. He's the type pretend not to care about you, but will glare (or more than glare depending at the severity) at people who hurt you. He is the 'I'm the only one allowed to insult them like that' type of friend. "Huh, Formaggio hasn't been teasing me. I wonder what happened." You wondered aloud, as you say beside your friend Illuso. "Must be because of his bruised jaw. The previous mission must've been tough for him." "Yeah... That..." - Probs touched-starved. He acts irritated and push you away when you try to hug him, but secretly loves it. If you stop trying to hug him, he'd be kinda sad but will not say anything. - This friendship includes you listening to him rant about every little thing, and brag about things he can't do. He appreciates you listening to be honest, and that's initially how your friendships started anyways. - Will use derogatory terms as a term of endearment. Please don't be offended, he doesn't mean any offense "Hey idiot! Get your sorry ass right here! Risotto said we have someone to take care of!" "Thanks, dumbass." "Eyo slut! Take a look at this fugly idiot!" - Does not have the habit of knocking. In fact, he just barges into your room, through the mirror. In more than one occasion has he seen you undressed but he couldn't care less about it. "Hey dumbass can I borrow your— hey, stop screaming! Anyways I ran out of hair ties, do me a solid—" - Everyone around you being confused to how you two are most unlikely to become friends, but you two are practically unlikely twins Prosciutto - You can not stop me from assuming he is quite the mom friend if you pry his shell hard enough. Perhaps a mom friend mixed with tsundere friend. "Hey! Drink your water or I'll break your ankles! No I don't care that we're in the middle of killing someone! I packed you some water and you didn't drink it! Well shit I didn't pack it specifically for you, I just managed to pack extra! Now go ahead and drink, I'll handle this one myself! While you're at it, coat yourself with sunscreen! If I hear you whining about being burnt, I swear to God—" - If you happen to be a mom friend too, you'd be bonding over the

mutual stress of having to look over the rest of the gang over a glass of wine as chaos around you ensues because you two decided to take a small break. "Formaggio and Ghiaccio is up at it again..." You sigh, swirling the content of your stemware as the distant bickering of the two aforementioned assassins echoed. "Just... Let's just lay low. It'll be over soon." Prosciutto sighs along as well, before downing his glass of whiskey. "Hopefully." And it didn't end, as it ensued and progressive got worse. Stands were called, knives were thrown, guns were shot. And two mom friends of La Squadra almost lost their voice from all the yelling and lecturing - Will scold you for your bad habits. Bad posture? He will walk behind you, press his knee on your back and roll your shoulders back whilst he lectures you about it. Messy time management? Will buy you crap to make you keep track of time. Sleeping so late? He will take whatever you're distracted with, demand you to turn your lights off as he lights soothing scented candles and tossing you some comfortable blankets to use. Barely taking care of yourself? Bro prepare yourself. "I don't understand how you live like this! You'd be dead if you were to continue that habit! At least help me help you to make you be better!" - Very blunt and honest to the point it stings, but he never lies to people he is closed to. He prefers being upfront with his loved ones and will try to rebuild their confidence and reassure them that they can be better than what they are. "When I say you're idiotic, you're but a burden, I mean it. You have all rights to be hurt by it, but don't just live with it. Prove me wrong, that you can be better than that and you'll be the best version of yourself. I know you can do it." - Will accept hugs, but will most likely not hug back. Maybe he'll just out one hand on your back and lightly stroke it, but that's it. But in rare occasions, he will return them too. Sometimes, he'll even initiate it. - Your connection to him as a friend has lead several advantages. No one in general can make a negative comment about you with Prosciutto around. His glare alone was scary and they would not wish to stick around and find out what he can do than just glaring. - Extremely appreciates when you help him around by simply carrying things for him, fetching him coffee and actually doing your damn job properly is enough to make him be filled with gratitude. Pesci - Baby. Okay, so this boy. Boy oh boy, he is baby. Take care of him, bro. Don't coddle him to the point of him being entirely dependent on you, but sis you can always reassure and make him improve himself! Perhaps a tamer version of his relationship with his brother. - You two will mostly likely be friends because you always defend him from the others from teasing him and rooting for him. He is very grateful for it and can't thank you enough. Either that, or Prosciutto paid you to babysit him. - Will constantly cling on your arm when he's anxious. It's up to you whether you'll snap at him and slap his hand away, or just let him hang around you. He'll just simply grab your wrist, and sooner and later he'd have his body pressed against yours, completely clinging on the entirety of your arm. "D-don't leave me, Y/N! I'm scared—!" - He is extremely thankful for you watching over him and protecting and by this, he tries to improve himself a lot more just so he can confidently say he can watch over you and protect you as well - Just the sweetest little thing, whenever he'd be away with Prosciutto for a mission he'd return home bearing gifts from travel and he'd give it to you. It would be something either miniature, or something practical like a knife sharpener or something. "I-I got this for you... I hope you like it! Big bro helped me pick!" - Honestly, I can imagine him just being the best, supportive and encouraging friend there could be. If ever you needed someone to confide in, he'd just sit and listen and will certainly not repeat what you told him to others. He'll try his best to comfort

you, taking inspiration to how you comfort him and will just try his best to make you feel better. "I know life is rough and hard and bad, but you always told me it will change and soon it all be over and better. It's good that you recognise you're in a bad place, now you need to take a break and then later you won't even know you've already forgotten your problem! It's okay to be sad, too, but not for too long." - The type of friend that will share anything he has. He has a cookie with him? Shit, he'll split it in half and give the other half to you. Some soda? Well I hope you don't mind drinking from the same can as he is, he will give it to you. Melone - So this nerd isn't a complete creepy pervert, not entirely at all. He's chill for most of the time, so he's a neat company if you don't mind him bombarding you with questions regarding your genetics, heritage records, blood type, zodiac signs and whatnot. But knows when to stop. - You most likely befriended him because he is one of the chill people in the group... Somewhat. Or perhaps you just started to bond over mutual love for steamy, erotic novels from the same author. If this man has shame, his guilty pleasures would be reading these types of trashy novels filled with smut. - He is great as a wingman. Complain to him about your lack of a love life, he'll observe your types and he'll somehow come up with a list by the next day enthusiastically listing them to you in a PowerPoint presentation. "If you're into girls, I have this one right here! She's compatible with your zodiac sign, although she has quite the temper she can be extremely passionate and affectionate— or perhaps you're into men, that I have as well. Several, actually. This other fellow right here is also a part of Passione from the Human trafficking branch, stoic and quite a stern one, but knows when to lay low at times and appreciate those around him— either him or the girl, you'd make good babies together!" "Melone, what the fuck—" - Very touchy. He'd lean his head on your lap as you both read on the couch, or randomly put his head on your shoulder during meetings, grab you by the arm while crossing the road, smacking your ass as a greeting (if you tell him stop, he'd stop of course), will pretend to kiss you just so he can see your reaction, anything. He is one affectionate nut that he sometimes forget about personal spaces. If you're not particularly fond of being touched like I am, simply tell him nope. I mean, he'd be sad but will respect your boundaries. The only time he'll actually respect established boundaries, to be honest. - Knows the most random facts and will share them to you for the fun of it. Additional to that, he will also mutter his shower thoughts and random cursed facts out loud just so he can curse you with the knowledge and confusion. "Did you know that dolphins masturbate using dead fishes? Also, there was an experiment involving dolphins in which one of the scientist fell in love and had sex with it. Another fact, is that dolphins are also seen doing the deed—" "Okay, Melone, I get it! Dolphins aren't as innocent as they seem! Stop ruining it for me already!" ... "Did you know that a woman once used mayonnaise as a lubri—" "MELONE!" - Being his friends meaning being his impulse control. If he intends to use his Stand on some innocent passerby just for the heck of it (for science, as he claims), smack him by the wrist and glare at him. If he eyes a particular someone for too long that the person gets too uncomfortable, try to divert his attention away. "Ow! Y/N what the heck—!" "What did I told you about oogling at people? It's impolite and creepy, stop that!" - He may not seem like it, but bro he cares a lot. If ever you had a problem, he'd sit and listen, offer you his shoulder to cry on, and perhaps hang out to divert your attention away from what's bothering and hurting you. And if you need advice, he'll try his best to come up with a flawless solution to your problems. But if comfort is what you need, his arms are open baby. Ghiaccio

- Bro you must need emergency ear plugs for this one, he is a massive screamer, a ticking time bomb with no timer that will erupt at random. If ear plugs aren't enough, cover your ears. - Befriending him was an impulse control befriending him. Well, all you did was to constantly try to calm his tits and cool his head to the point he actually barges in your room to hang out so that he can cool his head from all of the shenanigans occuring all around him, or maybe he just had another thought about something maddening about the world. "WELL WHY?! WHY IS WOMEN'S CLOTHES SIZING CHART DIFFER FROM EACH STORE?! THAT DOESN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE! INCHES AND CENTIMETRES EXISTS FOR A REASON, DAMNIT!" - There are moments where he isn't screaming, thankfully and he's a decent person to talk to. If you're a listener, he'll do the talking, just ranting about things, rambling on and on, before complaining, and then another outbursts comes out. By this, you simply sigh, put a hand on his shoulder and talk to him in a gentle, calming voice. It usually does the trick. Formaggio and Melone joked about this talent of yours as witchcraft. - He appreciates you a lot and honestly doesn't know what to do without you and by that, he knows he has to reciprocate the care you give him somehow to show he is grateful of your friendship and care. He isn't the type to be physically affectionate, but he is extremely thoughtful about his closed loved onesa and prefers to be practical about it. He would save you your seat in meetings, fetch you snacks if he ran out for an errand, etc etc. Extremely observant of your mannerisms, that he might point that out to you and you won't even realise you do that. - So like, he is very protective as a friend. He will do something whenever someone has wronged you in any way. The others teasing you? Bam, he'll shoot them back with a witty insult. Your s/o cheated on you? Ohohoho boi, be prepared to see their name on a headline on the daily news. Your order was wrong? Bam, he'll have the waiter shaking in fear from a screaming, angry Italian mafioso as he demands for them to remake your order correctly. "WELL CAGACAZZO?! QUIT STANDING AROUND AND GET ORDERS CORRECTLY—" "G-Ghiaccio it's just a minor thing, let it go—" "THEY SERVED YOU AN INGREDIENT YOU SPECIFICALLY TOLD THEM NOT TO INCLUDE BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLERGIC TO IT! WHY ARE YOU LETTING THIS SLIDE OFF?!" - All in all, he's just glad you're there for him because damn, someday his temper is going to get the best of him and he doesn't know what to do. And with your friendship, he's learned how to cope with his spontaneous anger by carrying soothing stuff to ease his nerves (courtesy of your suggestions and gifts for him) - Basically the dynamic of a rapid gremlin with rabies and a calm, sunshine personified angel. Everyone (Riz, including, but he's more subtle and dry about it) joked about the unlikely friendship, and how your ears must've lost a little bit of hearing capacity. Rissoto - I feel like he'd be extremely attached to a childhood friend. You've been friends since before you underwent the drastic change by going through a lot to get to where he is now, and still the only person that stuck around with him was you. By that, you became the most trusted by him due to the fact you've known each other for very long. - As his best friend, you're his confidant and finds himself often going to you if ever he needed advice, or needed to vent about his stress. He really isn't vocal but when he's confiding in you, his words spill out of his mouth usually sealed tightly just steadily flows, his big strong Capo veneer falls apart in front of you but he doesn't necessarily feel unsafe by being vulnerable. That's how he trusts you. - No one will dare to bad mouth you in front of the Capo, or else there'd be hell to pay for. I mean, teasing is fine, he knows you can handle burns from team mates here and there (and will silently smirk at it) but he will not stand it if they attempt to belittle you for something unreasonable. "Watch your mouth. That was

out of their control, stop blaming them for something they can't do." - The type of friend that doesn't know how to comfort someone, but will try their best. So as you spill your heart out, tears, snot, sweat and all, he'll just pull you to his chest and awkwardly pat your shoulders to get you calm and comforted. Not to mention, he is extremely stiff at the hug and is very unsure what words to say to you to not upset or offend you any further, so he'll just ride it out smoothly, and let you let it all out on his chest. It's not like he can't wash your tears, snot and sweat on his chest anyways. - Since he is very non-vocal, he's a good listener so rant all the way! Complain about the weather, about your lack of love life, about how underpaid the hitmen team is, anything! He won't find the perfect response, so he'll just nod along and perhaps comment occasionally on what your saying. "So like, ugh, I am soooo frustrated at how Prosciutto could say that to Pesci! He makes a good point, but it's redundant for him to be too harsh on him! Look, all I'm saying is, maybe Prosciutto should start choosing his words correctly so that Pesci won't feel too upset! You know???" You glanced at your friend, as he simply sat attentively beside you. He nods silently as a response. "Anyways—" - Extremely great at deduction and the way he reads people so easily is so unreal. And so he uses this to his advantage to know what's up with you whenever you seemed off. By this, he's able to tell whenever you're upset but scared to talk about it, frustrated but too busy to talk about, etc etc. And with this, he takes the time to drag you to take a seat, and talk about what's been bothering you. If you don't wish to talk about it at all, he'll let you be after with a reassurance that you can overcome whatever the heck you're going through. - Everyone is surprised that you two aren't married??? That you're just friends??? The way you two look just makes you two look like a couple and it boggles the others how you two aren't one.

#la squadra x reader #platonic #jjba part 5 #jojo golden wind #formaggio x reader #prosciutto x reader #pesci x reader #illuso x reader #melone x reader #ghiaccio x reader #risotto x reader #headcanons #friendship #x reader

281 notes · View notes

scriptmedic · 5 years ago

Text

COVID

Or, How to Abandon Pants & Save the World at the Same Time

Hey all. Seems like it’s getting tough out there.

Seems like shit is getting really real, really fast.

I’m here in New York, doing ICU transfers for one of the hospital systems, and I can’t lie to you... it’s bad.

We’re storing bodies in refrigerated trailers because the morgues are full.

The City is reopening potter’s fields and digging mass graves.

Hundreds of people a day are dying. Soon, thousands.

Mostly older. Some previously-healthy adults. Mercifully, not many kids.

It’s real, and it’s bad.

But I promise you, the world is not ending.

And I also promise you this post will end with HOPE, even if it’s hard to read.

But I want to talk about something... a misconception I’ve been seeing over and over again.

We are NOT the “Front Line.”

I keep hearing the term “front line responders” used for our nurses... doctors... PAs...

Bullshit.

We’re the LAST line.

We’re the failsafe. The oh-shit, I can’t-fix-this-any-other-way line.

We’re the everything else has gone wrong line.

The FIRST line of defense against COVID is YOU.

You, sitting at home, wondering how the world will ever get back to normal.

You, hoping that your job will still be there in a week, a month, a year.

You, resisting the urge to walk the dog again because you’re bored.

YOU are the ones who are going to make the difference in how many people live, and how many die.

Not us. Not your health professionals.

YOU.

How You Can Stay Safe & Save the World

I want to talk about something .... RISK.

A lot of people I know are pretty risk-tolerant. We’re young, we’re healthy, and if we DO get COVID, it will likely just seem like a cough, or even like... ...nothing.

Here’s the problem.

There are a LOT of people testing positive (in countries doing mass testing, i.e. not here) who had NO IDEA they were infected.

It’s called being an Asymptomatic Carrier.

So even if you literally do not care if you get COVID...

Even if you feel completely fine...

ACT LIKE YOU HAVE IT ANYWAY. Act like ANYONE you come into contact with could die if your breath touches their skin, their mouth, their nose.

Act like everyone you meet is your granny, or your mom, who’s sick. Someone you love.

It’s not about YOUR health, it’s about EVERYONE’S health.

I’ve put together a few guidelines to help you stay safe AND save the world.

I’m about 6 feet tall... ...so remember to keep a distance of 1 (one) Scripty apart from each other. NO EXCEPTIONS (unless you’re fluid-bonded with someone).

Wear a mask in public, even if you have to make it yourself. No, this does not mean you can violate social distancing! REMEMBER -- KEEP ONE SCRIPTY APART, MINIMUM! Yes, I know masks are direly hard to come by. Yes, I know they’re uncomfortable. Yes, I know they make it hard to breathe. I am literally wearing TWO OF THEM at the same time, between 40-60 hours per week. WEAR ONE ANYWAY. Not on your chin... Not hanging off of one ear... Over your nose AND your mouth. .

If you can’t find a mask, DO NOT cough out of your facehole. The correct direction to cough is due elbow. Then make sure you SCRUB dat bendy boi. .

Scrub dem grippy bois Hand wash for 20 seconds. Make sure you’re getting between your fingers, under your nails, and around your wrists. Sing Happy Birthday to yourself. Just like the Mars Rover did. .

STAY. THE FUCK. HOME. I know you miss normal life. Time with your friends. Visiting your family. I miss it too. I would LOVE to spend time in a park, to go hiking again, to go back to my GYM, to just... live my freaking life. There are SO many people I’m craving hugs from. But here’s the truth. THE MORE YOU STAY HOME NOW, THE SOONER THINGS CAN GET BACK TO NORMAL. I CANNOT stress this enough. Staying home is saving lives. Period. Full stop. I don’t know the last time I saved a life with no pants on, but you can. Right now. TAKE OFF YOUR PANTS AND STAY HOME AND YOU WILL SAVE LIVES I PROMISE. (it’s okay to save lives with pants on tho. your roof, your rules.)

I promised you this post would end with HOPE.

Here’s the thing...

Yes, a lot of people are going to die.

Yes, a LOT of people are going to be out of a job in the short term.

Yes, this really is THAT BAD. .

AND.

Everything in Nature has a niche. Something it’s better at than anything else.

Dogs? Dogs are the best on the planet at loving people. (That’s the #1 reason we bred them from wolves -- because they loved us.)

But humans do ONE THING way, WAY above and beyond ANY of our competition.

WE ADAPT.

We are the adaptivist motherfucking species on Planet Earth.

We live in more environments than any other warm-blooded species I know of.

We got cold... so we figured out how to make fire.

We got hot... so we learned to harvest ice, and then to MAKE ice, and then to make air conditioners.

Our food was going bad... so we made iceboxes, and then refrigerators, and then takeout (because we got too lazy to cook).

The point is, we ADAPT.

We adapted to the influenza pandemic in 1918, twenty years before we ever saw a virus under a microscope.

We adapted to smallpox... and then fucking eradicated it. Smallpox literally no longer exists because we decided we’d had enough of it.

We CAN and we ARE and we WILL adapt to COVID, too.

Smart motherfuckers are making vaccines.

Recovering patients are donating antibodies to help save lives while the smart motherfuckers get their shit in gear.

And y’all are STEPPING the FUCK UP.

My heart is overloaded with love and appreciation.

For grocery store workers. Supply chain workers. Truckers. Food service workers.

For all the people who can’t stay home.

I nearly cried saying thank-you to a barista about an hour ago because a cup of coffee was enough to make me feel human.

You’re busy praising us in the health care trenches, but the truth is, we owe our ability to live our lives right now to you.

To the guy busting his ass in a restaurant for less than minimum wage.

To the girl making round after round of deliveries even though she’s tired AF.

To the people who are keeping us going.

And most especially, to those who might have the hardest job of all...

...the people who are staying the fuck home.

I love each and every one of you.

And it’s gonna be tough. It’s gonna be tough for a WHILE. (This is a marathon, not a sprint.)

But we will get through this together.

You... me... everyone.

So, so, SO much fucking love,

xoxo, Aunt Scripty

#COVID #COVID-19

4K notes · View notes

mrwinterr · 5 years ago

Text

Slippery, Smooth

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky gets a different kind of massage.

Warnings: Smut 18+ (consensual but still unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, oral [male receiving], thigh riding, titty fuck, cum play).

Disclaimer: I want to put it out there that while nuru massages aren’t legal in the vast majority of the U.S. or the world, I’m not condoning the underlying motive of selling sex and/or prostitution. I apologize if this may offend anyone or the culture. I did my best to read about the origins and some modern experiences. A girl just watched porn and wrote this – that’s it.

** Author’s Note (8/13/20): Read a snippet of Part 2! **

“We’ll just need you both to fill out the paperwork for some information. Please check any of the services we offer then sign the waiver on the back and when you’re both done, we’ll show you to your rooms,” the young female receptionist answered with a friendly smile on her face.

Sam returns the gesture with a smile of his own and grabs the two white clipboards with the paperwork attached to them, carefully balancing the pens placed on top so they don’t roll off. On his left, was Bucky sporting a resting bitch face, clearly showing he was dragged into this before heading to a pair of unoccupied seats. The woman unbothered by his sour demeanor pays no offense believing he’s come to the right place to relieve the stress he isn’t aware he’s been harboring.

Except Bucky really doesn’t want to be here at the spa. He just happened to be caught while walking by some of his colleagues and apparently, Sam had been asking around for someone to check out the raving massage parlor on the market with him, but mostly because it was much more of a discount to book for two than one.

With some convincing from his more levelheaded companions, suggesting Bucky continue to go out and experience more modern things while also participating in the act of self-care, he begrudgingly agreed.

“Man, hurry up. Did you forget how to spell your name?” Sam nudged at him seeing as Bucky hadn’t even filled out the first line before putting the cap back on his pen, signaling he had completed his paperwork.

“Shut up. I don’t even want to be here.” Bucky mumbled enough just for Sam to hear. It wasn’t the establishment’s fault that he felt bothered.

He let out a big sigh, filled out the basic information and skimmed at the options of the services provided. His face scrunched. There were all kinds of massages that he hadn’t heard of and some were even in different languages. Luckily, this place offered a brief description of each type.

“Barnes!” Sam, who was standing in front of the receptionist desk again, said with a now firmer tone and sending Bucky a hard look. He was getting impatient. Bucky shook his head and looked back down at the paper. Try something new. He reminded himself.

Feeling slight pressure and the practical idea of the sooner he got through with this part of the process the sooner he’d be out of this place, Bucky hastily checks off something near the middle, a different type of massage he thought sounded nice. They all sounded nice, but there were so many, he didn’t bother to finish reading through or retain any significant aspects on each of them as they all became a jumbled mess of terms in his brain. Afterall, a massage is designed to make one feel good anyways. How far south could the option he selected go?

A few more minutes went by until another woman from behind the desk emerges and calls for the two men. The receptionist bids them a good time and carries on with the next guest. To both of their relief, Bucky and Sam are placed in separate rooms.

Guess he picked a different massage. Bucky thought to himself and looked around the dim lit room. Its walls adorned with tasteful foreign artwork, different sized candles and infused with a refreshed yet soothing scent that began overtaking his senses. The place was pristine.

The employee who escorted him to this room sets the clipboard on the nearby table and instructs Bucky to prep himself with a shower that was located in the corner. Before he could ask why that was a significant part of the massage, she told him once he was done washing himself, to lie on the massage table with only his towel on and to wait for his actual masseuse, who would arrive shortly, then she left closing the door behind her.

Not wanting to think too much into it, believing perhaps it was part of the experience or this place was just super hygienic, Bucky doesn’t waste time. The masseuse could walk in any moment, so he proceeds to undress, open the clear shower door and step in.

A few months ago, aside from the people he worked with or the ones he fought against, no one would be caught alone with Bucky – especially in a vulnerable state such as being half naked and with his metal arm on display. It took a lot of self-therapy and confidence and just plain not giving a fuck anymore mindset, but now here he was letting a complete stranger touch him and take more than a peek and gander at his body. If the doctors could see him now. On top of that, there had to be a level of professionalism here anyways, he was in good hands.

Once he’s thoroughly clean, he wraps the white, fluffy towel around his waist before hopping onto the massage bed. It was big, almost like it was built for two. That was a strange thought, but nonetheless he chose to also not dwell on that and was grateful it was big enough for his burly body. He scoots around a bit to find the center and lies down, trying to relax.

He turned his head to the side, eyes wandering at the counter full of supplies – massage oils, rocks, towels, soap, a box of condoms, gloves, more towels…wait. A box of condoms? What the hell? Bucky thought now a little puzzled before turning his head back to stare at the ceiling in front of him. He closes his eyes and tries to calm his nerves once more.

Just before Bucky dozed off, as if on cue, he hears the door open and quietly close with an extra click. You finally arrived. He peeks an eye open to see the back of your figure, hair tied loosely and in a short white robe. It clung on your body different, it had to be of silk. He opens both eyes just as you turn around.

You quickly glance at his clipboard before finally fixing your eyes on your next client. His metal arm certainly didn’t go unnoticed, but that wouldn’t be a problem at all. It might sound mean, but it was one less limb to work on. All that shoved aside, he was athletically built and geez, was he a sight. Keep it together. You began telling yourself over and over. You’re a professional.

It wasn’t likely you did these kinds of massages, nor did you partake in paid sexual services just strictly intent on the art of touch and healing, but this type paid handsomely, and the lights didn’t have to be on all the way to let you see that handsome was indeed right in front of you too. You introduced yourself to the man on the massage bed but got no response.

A quiet one. You thought, but quickly shrugged it off and decided to get right to it by pulling at the end of a tassel in the knot tied around your waist to begin disrobing.

Bucky, not anticipating interacting or to be touched intimately by someone so pretty was gravely distracted, it wasn’t until he saw the skin of your cleavage that he snapped out of it.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Bucky exclaims sitting up, “what are you doing?”

With a confused expression, you simply replied, “disrobing?” Then wearily proceeded to part the material to the side, but before you could reveal anything else, you heard another plea to stop.

“Wh-why?” Bucky was having a hard time trying to formulate words with the swell of your breasts peeking from behind your robe now in his view.

You turned and cocked your head a bit, still perplexed by his questions, “because it’s part of the massage.”

“Wha…what? Isn’t the person getting the massage supposed to be the one that’s…naked?” His mind was in a frenzy and that was kind of annoying you.

“For a simple massage, yes.”

“What are we doing then?” He asked incredulously.

“A nuru massage.”

“Nuru massage?”

“Yes. A nuru massage is when one massages the other person’s body with their own.” You explained as calmly as you could. He was getting increasingly agitated and your job was to help others relax not add onto the stress.

Bucky shook his head frantically and looked away from you to stop his eyes from wandering too long on your body. He could tell you didn’t have anything else underneath. “This has to be a mistake. You must have the wrong room.”

You scoffed, covering yourself up again and snatching the clipboard on the nearby counter. “Aren’t you…James B. Barnes?” You skim over it before asking and turning the clipboard to prove to him that you were in the right room assigned to him.

He craned his neck forward to inspect the piece of paper he held not too long ago, his messy handwriting complete with his illegible signature staring right back at him.

“Well, yeah…”

“Then I have the right room and you checked off for a nuru massage.” You say crossing your arms as he took the clipboard from your hands to read more about what the massage actually entails.

“This-this can’t be legal though.” He said shaking his head and thinking about how it could even be acceptable for this kind of service without eliciting some sort of sexual stimulation from the other party. Bodies gliding against each other? It just couldn’t possibly go smooth or well…work.

“It’s not…” you replied like it’s a known fact but then were quick to respond seeing his eyes widening in overreaction, “in most areas of the world but it’s absolutely legal here!”

“But it’s basically pros-“ he didn’t even finish that last sentence catching himself when he saw your now offended expression.

Does this asshole really think he is going to just sit there and get away with downright calling you a prostitute?

“You don’t know shit about me,” you spat. Handsome or not, deciding he wasn’t as openminded as most people and harshly tied a new knot to the robe you were still wearing signaling you were about to walk out. He wasn’t worth the few extra digits to your paycheck.

“No! Wait!” He pleaded; guilt ridden. As he let out a deep sigh, you stayed put to hear him out, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. You’re right! I don’t know shit about you, but I also don’t know what a nuru massage is. I came here with a friend to help him get a good deal and I clearly wasn’t paying attention to what I signed up for.”

You nodded and decided to be civil since he was owning up to his mistake. “Okay. Apology accepted. I see why you freaked out, but you’re clearly not comfortable with the idea of this,” you responded while your hands helped convey your words, “so I can see what I can do to get you a refund,” and walked over to him to retrieve the clipboard.

It would’ve taken a significant blow to your pay – losing a client for the day – but you weren’t going to put anyone in a situation they weren’t familiar or comfortable with.

“Well…” He spoke up, placing his right hand on top of yours causing you to look up at him.

Wow, his eyes. They held the same color that reminded you of the kind water in a pool could reflect. The soothing kind of blue. You felt like you were glued to the spot, almost hypnotized.

“I mean I’m already here. I don’t want to take any business away from you. Again, I’m sorry I overreacted. What’s life without experience, right?”

And that deep voice... Shit, snap out of it! Remember, you’re a professional.

You gave him a small smile for his change of heart and willingness to try something new.

“Right,” you said forcing yourself to look away. Fuck, I hope I wasn’t staring for too long, “but I’m letting you know now, this isn’t a normal massage,” daring to look back at him for reassurance, “if at any moment you’re uncomfortable, we can change things up. Afterall, I’m very good with my hands.” You hoped to regain your composure with that last line. It wasn’t a lie though.

Bucky sends you a smile of his own before letting you go to lie back down properly, waiting for the next move. You cautiously disrobed without any protest from him. You noticed Bucky visibly swallowed the thick lump in his throat now that you were completely nude in front of him.

“Are you okay?” You were going to have to be patient with this one. He wasn’t going to be like any other you treated. It was easy for you to just stand there naked and you weren’t bothered by nudity at all, but that doesn’t mean everyone else is.

With a nod of his head, you reached for the towel to untuck the bunched-up portion at the side of his waist, mindful to not expose him of the slightest to spare him some modesty, while asking him to move just enough to let it rest on his body and cover his lower half like a blanket would.

You decided to let him keep his towel on for the time being and focus on his upper body. Next, you instructed him to turn and lie on his stomach, you’d start with his back first. You lifted the towel in a modest manner like you would for anyone so he could maneuver with ease. Once he settled in a comfortable position, you began the treatment.

“The word nuru stems from the Japanese term for slippery or smooth.” Talking to your clients was a technique most in your line of profession use to help distract or relax them to get the job done – that and it’s just good customer service showing that you care and know just what the fuck you’re doing.

You expertly jumped up onto the small space left on the bed to get into a straddling position on your knees hovering just over the small of his back and covered ass. Judging by the hump, it kind of looked nice to sit on.

“I’m going to start by applying nuru gel all over your body and mine, but we’ll start small, alright.” You carefully poured a generous amount of the warm massage gel in the palm of your hand lathering up your arms, chest, torso, thighs and fortunately you were flexible enough to reach parts of your back, but for parts you couldn’t, would transfer off his body to yours later on.

Scooping up a bit more, you watched as the gel dropped in a fine line and pool onto his back before beginning to spread it all over the expanse of his toned body in soothing motions. You started to gently press with your knuckles on the surface his muscles.

“The gel is actually made out of natural Nori seaweed,” you started explaining the colorless and odorless substance while progressing lower on his back with both hands, digging your thumbs near the lumbar region and compressing some of your weight down. You paid attention to specific areas of the body that draws the most tension. His body became visibly lax and less strained the more you worked your magic; soon enough Bucky was sure he would be putty in your hands.

Still perched up on your knees and not wanting to slip, you took initiative and just plopped down onto his plush yet firm backside. Even if a towel remained as a barrier between you both, you felt his glutes tense up underneath you, most likely having startled him. Trying to find a way to help him relax again, you tried to comfort him with more facts.

“It has other healthful benefits such as providing great moisturization to the skin,” you leaned down on your forearms and started an up and down repetition.

Your hands then travelled to his sides and you hoped he wasn’t ticklish before they met at the back of his neck to perform the simplest of massages ever. However basic as it might’ve seemed, felt like Heaven’s touch on Bucky’s end as he couldn’t help but let out a moan of satisfaction.

You were so good at it, working out all the kinks in his neck using your skilled fingers, he had to let out an approving moan after moan with each touch that hit the spot. The elicited sound racked through his body that you felt it reverberate all the way down to your core. You were crossing over a forbidden line, but that wasn’t letting you up. You had wanted to hear and feel that again.

“You’re really tense aren’t, you?” You comment continuing your handy work into the knots around his lower neck, slowly adding more pressure and testing his limits. His response was an even louder and deeper moan. Unknowingly, it caused you to shift, more like ground, your hips against his lower body. You mentally patted yourself on the back for keeping the towel there to absorb your juices. He didn’t need to try and figure out if it was the nuru gel or the sudden wetness pooling in you that his skin was swimming in.

Then you lowered your entire body, your chest now pressed against his back. Your head was close to his, you could smell the scent of the soap the facility provided for the massage prep mixed with his own and you swore he smelled more relaxing than any stress-free candle or burning incense ever could.

Due to the close proximity, you spoke even softer right next to his ear, “the combination of the nuru gel and full body contact or the touch of another human help to release toxins from the body and boost the feelgood chemicals in the brain.”

You paired that piece of knowledge with sliding up and down his back, your hands trailing up his arms that were bent but sprawled above his hand, grasping at the front of his hands to briefly interlock them before letting them go to repeat the actions.

Deciding enough time was spent on the upper area, you carefully swung around, gathered a bit more gel and snuck your hands underneath the towel to glide up the hill of his ass. Without protest, you seized the moment and experimentally grabbed a handful of each cheek before releasing the flesh and sail further down to his muscular thighs. Oh, you wish you could see them, but reminded yourself to approach each step with caution with him.

The towel still restricted you from attending to his calves, so you pulled your hands back out and scooted up to pull the towel up from the other end and treat them with the same amount of attention. After that treatment was done, you had him revert to his original position on his back.

As he settled, you reached over to pour some more gel and help slicken his front half.

“Interesting fact, nuru massages originated in Japan as a disguise to pay for sexual services,” you say as your hands spanned across the planes of his pecs, “but nuru massages are much more than an erotic massage.”

“How so?” Bucky asked genuinely curious because he was having a hard time trying to strain his cock from hardening. Thankfully for him, you were seated on his lower abdomen and barely inches away from his member.

“Think of them as more so sensual than sexual.”

Accepting that outlook, Bucky had to ask, “how did you get into…this?”

You knew he meant performing nuru massages and not your career in general, “I took a trip to Japan during a break from studying,” you replied and now tracing the lines of his abs. That sort of action, so close to his dick, created a ghostly tingle to run down Bucky’s lower region.

Counting each one of his abs to help distract you from the twitch of his cock that he thought you probably didn’t feel hit you, you continued your story, “like you, I also didn’t know what I signed up for either.”

With your breasts out in front of him squished between your upper arms as you continued to rub him and all slick from the gel, your skin seemed ever so inviting for him to touch, but he refrained from doing so. There was really no way to avoid getting aroused with this kind of massage. He was about to give up the fight. He needed to relax, right?

“Um, how-how was…he?” He asked trying to not ask awkwardly. You smiled noting he was having a hard time trying to look at your face and not your boobs. A guy like this at your fingertips? What woman’s ego wouldn’t be boosted? You had control.

Keeping in mind he is new to this, but also that the vitality of full body contact in this massage, you treated his front half to the same tactic you used on his back by laying your body flat on his.

“She was amazing,” you answered, your face now close to his you could feel the warmth of his breath puff out as he tried to regulate his breathing. The close proximity allowing you to feel the beat of his heart. You noticed the bob of his throat to that reveal, two women all oiled up.

“She taught me a lot of moves actually.” An innocent anecdote produced a whine from Bucky that he felt ashamed of slip out. Okay, maybe you got to bring it back down. “The first time I ever performed a nuru massage, I almost slipped off the massage table!”

What you hoped for was to lighten the mood, you didn’t expect was for him to bust out laughing at you. The sudden outburst took you by surprise that you almost reenacted the shared memory, but Bucky was quick to catch you with his left arm before you fell. His arms encased around you as he turned on his back with you now lying parallel, legs between his now parted ones underneath the towel that still managed to stay on.

“Oh my God,” you said burying your face into the crook of his neck, not giving a damn that the massage gel would get on your face. That first fall from your past was one of the most embarrassing moments of your career and here you were about to relive it or perhaps create one that would top it.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Bucky said tucking you in his arms as his flesh hand ran up and down the curves of your slick back, the metal one resting just above the curve of your ass. “I’m sorry I scared you. I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just that you’re so poised and professional, having to imagine you being that clumsy took me off guard.”

Your eyes drifted down and noticed the scarred tissue of his skin that divided the metal from him. He probably ached there sometimes. You made a mental note to fit his arm somewhere in your routine.

“I’ve never told anyone that story before,” you admitted looking at him. Your eyes lingering at his pink lips that were parted. He brushed a strand of your hair away and cupped your face. You leaned into his hand and if he didn’t know it, you were the one that was putty in his hands.

Earning yourself another beautiful smile from him you got back into position. “Do you mind?” You ask referring to the towel. Having spent some time with you and seeing a more vulnerable side, he shook his head and let you rip the towel from beneath you and drop it to the floor.

“It’s okay to get hard,” you said trying to address the elephant in the room. You watched him stammer with his words, “it’s perfectly natural. Remember, this massage is designed to tease your senses and bring your body to full ecstasy.” Your now pressed against him again, rubbing your body up and down, hands trailing upwards to let your fingers intertwine with his again.

Feeling your breasts glide up just enough to stop under his chin, he kept tilting his head back as if he was neck deep in water, but if he was being honest, he would rather just drown in them at this point. Bucky tries to remain calm even if you assured him that getting aroused during a massage was a common occurrence.

“Relax, James,” you said releasing one of his hands to cradle his head and set it in a regular position. You just made it a point to not practically motorboat the poor guy.

“It’s Bucky,” he said, “please just call me Bucky. James is too formal.”

“Okay, Bucky,” you confirm by pressing your forehead against his.

Not taking your eyes off each other, you glided down a few inches so you’re face-to-face with the junction of the skin and metal and began leaving light feather kisses to the sensitive area. Adding a little squeeze to the flesh hand that was still in your grasp, Bucky felt his heart soar a bit. You, so unperturbed by the once traitorous appendage, were so gentle and the level of intimacy you carried, he wondered if you were like this to your other clients. He felt like a damn fool for falling for your every move.

“Are most of your clients men?” Bucky wondered.

“No. I don’t limit my services to just men. Most times, my favorite are the women. Nuru is open for anyone of any gender or sexual orientation.”

You slithered down again until you trapped one of his thighs between your legs. Lord, give me the strength to not cum. You prayed and begun rocking your hips almost sinfully.

Fuck, was this part of her normal routine? Bucky asked himself but wouldn’t deny the combination of her wet pussy and its soft lips gliding along his thighs felt good. Not to mention the way your hands grip at the grooves of his Adonis belt, nails slightly digging into his skin, watching your hips move. He didn’t miss the look on your face, eyebrows knitted in concentration and your plump bottom lip trapped between your teeth.

“Do you enjoy this too?”

You knew what he was going for. Did you get a rise out of this? You regained control of your body and shrugged, “I mean, touch is therapeutic in some cases, but if you’re wondering, most places or depending on the masseuse have modified nuru massages.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Not everyone gets a happy ending.” You were a masseuse specialist and not in a line of sex. It was the most misconstrued thing about it. Noticing the look on his face, you concluded that he must’ve not known the term “happy ending.”

“Sex. A happy ending is what usually culminates from a nuru massage,” you cleared the air. It was adorable to see the surprised look on his face. Yet, underneath the sheen line of sweat that had built up on his forehead, Bucky was internally relieved to hear that you didn’t actually partake in any sexual penetration or acts from this type of massage.

Okay, maybe that number on his thigh wasn’t part of your routine. You’d never been that needy. Before you could fly off the edge, you didn’t even peg yourself to be a sadist and actually edge yourself. You wondered if you could fully set ethical standards aside and go through it.

You set that same leg between your breasts and strategically slid from up his thigh before stopping just below the waist to keep his rather endowed member confined.

“You know, it’s a shame the reputation that nuru massages have,” you started, pushing your boobs together with your hands. You felt his cock jolt at the contact, “the first thing that comes to people’s minds in terms of nuru is fucking porn, but nuru has its benefits.”

“Like what?” Bucky asks breathily as you started practically titty fucking him. Is she serious? Are we in a porno? He thought seeing as there’s no way he was going to not cum any second.

“Yeah. Believe it or not, it’s proven to help couples spice up their love lives and even repair them.”

“H-how?” He tried to keep up with conversation, but it was so hard, he was so hard, as he watched his cock disappear and reappear from between the depths of your breasts. He hoped you hadn’t noticed that his pre-cum had been aiding in the slickness as it mixed in with the nuru gel. You were warm and soft and slick…and he wasn’t even buried deep in your pussy.

“I think you can guess one of the factors, but it’s more than just a physical connection, really,” you explain and release him. You move back up, body once more parallel to his, your hands smearing more of the gel around his chest, “it allows for one to feel more comfortable in their own skin and even create new sensations.”

“Almost sounds like a spiritual journey,” he said with seriousness his eyes meeting yours.

“It can be,” you responded with. You were so close to his face again. Not sure how long you sat there staring at him, but as ironic as it was, the setting in a massage parlor, one with a purpose to help the other, you both seemed to create a new kind of tension. A tension that was almost too thick you feared it wasn’t something your hands could resolve.

You stared down at his enchanting features, soft, pink lips that were parted, cute nose, the half-lidded eyes but that still shone from the blue that managed to peek out. Your hands trailed up to touch his face. He was so tempting.

Fuck it. All caution thrown out the window, your lips crashed against his. It wasn’t bruising nor soft, but enough to cut the tension that had built up in the room. To your astonishment, he didn’t object to your advances and pressed his lips back to yours and opening up wider to let you slip your tongue in. He caught your tongue in his mouth with his lips and enclosed around the muscle, sucking on it, causing you to gasp and pull away breathlessly.

You push yourself up just enough to get a full look at him with your hands on his chest. A slight nod of his head was all you needed to dive back in. Your lips massaged against his as you both kissed with such fervor, your hands threading into the short locks of his hair slightly pulling at what you could grasp in your fingers. The echoes of his moans and the light tap of his cock that had twitched in response against your lower abdomen was a dead giveaway sign that he liked that.

However, the continue rocking of your body against his, wasn’t going to help alleviate his raging hard on. It was pressed so hard in between you, it almost felt embedded into your skin. You slithered back down, leaving a trail of kisses from the column of his neck, chest – even managing to teeth at one of his nipples tauntingly – the line between his abs until you were met with the tip of his cock, which was unashamedly leaking.

You jeered around his head, placing lightweight kisses down the side of his cock, purposely avoiding the large vein on the underside, to his balls. Your eyes never leaving Bucky’s, who had his head propped under his flesh arm to watch you. Your hands still slick with the gel, you started to fondle him before taking them, one at a time, in your warm, wet mouth to gently suck on.

You weren’t sure who lost the staring contest this time between you two, but his head lulled back at the sensation and yours closed shut, full of him and savoring the taste of his skin. Pulling away with a pop, you wrapped a hand around his shaft to let his cock stand at full attention.

Bucky finally opened his eyes and picked his head back up to look at you just in time to watch you smear his pre-cum all over your lips and swallow him. You downed as much of his cock as you could before hollowing your cheeks and coming back up with your tongue dragging across the underside of him, bobbing up and down.

Without a warning, you pull away for a brief moment, a string of mixed fluids leave a web trail from him to you, “It’s okay to touch me, Bucky,” you say stroking his cock but also noticing his hands had been gripping onto the edge of the bed and hoping to encourage him to fully give in to his desires.

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice as his hands found purchase in your hair pushing you back down his cock. He let out a loud groan when he felt the tip of your nose bury in the soft hairs of his happy trail. You weren’t expecting that kind of aggression from him, it caused you to involuntarily gag around him. Your throat constricting around his cock only caused him more indisputable pleasure he jut his hips up, lodging himself even further.

When you pulled away again, this time with your own saliva and his cum dribbling down your chin, your eyes were slightly red and tearstained. Your ragged breathing, lips glistening and swollen, hair matted against your face. You looked so fucked, so raw.

He pulled you up to him once more, your legs instinctively setting on either side of him, your dripping cunt hovering just over his cock that lied resting on his stomach. He wiped at your chin before kissing you, his tongue darting all around the wet cavern of your mouth and tasting himself. Something about that was so filthy yet so erotic.

Your legs spread further apart, and you pressed yourself against his cock. The contact causing you both to draw out loud moans. You did your best to drag your sopping folds along his stiff member, but the bed had become so slippery, you were finding it hard to pull yourself back up on your knees. Bucky must’ve picked up on the small struggle as he grabbed handfuls of your ass to help aid you in sliding your pussy up and down his cock.

You could feel just how hard he was and the underside and ridges of the head of his cock scraping against your clit, pulled all sorts of tremors from your body. You were a whimpering mess, clinging onto Bucky’s body trying to find your footing, but your senses were on overdrive.

“I know, it’s your job to make me feel good,” he said continuing to rut up against you, “but go ahead…just let go.” Oh, how he would love to watch you unravel and you weren’t one to deny him. You wildly came undone, from the buildup of riding his thigh and now this, you gushed all over his cock.

Wrecked, you knew this was far from over. Once you reclaimed control of your senses, Bucky at your full attention, you snaked a hand between your bodies and lifted yourself up to position his eager cock at your entrance.

“Tell me, Bucky,” you said trying your best to dominate the situation and started teasing yourself, “…do you want a happy ending,” you asked seductively, licking his lips and your eyes never leaving his.

His heartbeat accelerated with each running pass of the tip of his cock made through your folds. If his ending was right here on this massage bed, he’d take it because you were a fucking tease. The string of curses that flowed out his mouth caused a smirk to form on your lips.

You felt his metal hand grab yours shoving it away, enough of your teasing, he repositioned himself at your hole, gripped your hips and slid right in you with ease. You internally applauded the designers of the building for making each room soundproof because let’s face it, no one wants to hear how good the person next door is feeling – especially not like this, not the sounds you and Bucky were producing.

Each slide up and down his thick length, Bucky found himself almost fully engulfed by your breasts again. He stopped you for a moment so he could finally get his mouth on them, but you weren’t about to catch a break. No. Bucky instead planted his feet on the bed and began thrusting up into you almost too vigorously, but you sucked it up. Letting him use you to work out his frustrations.

Then you sat up, hands sprawled on his chest and started grounding your hips. The way his cock swiveled with each rotation you made, had you reeling as the tip just barely kept hitting that spot.

Bucky straightened out his legs from behind you and managed to sit up, cradling the small of your back and gently laying you down.

“Slow down, baby,” he says trying to contain the relentlessness drive you had on fucking him by keeping your hips at bay, so he pulled out resulting in a displeased noise to come out of you.

He just needed to get into a new position, on his knees, your right leg hoisted up on his shoulder while he pushed down on the other to spread your legs further apart, just for him to easily plunge back into your wet heat and drawing out long and satisfied moans from you both.

“Fuck, it feels so good. You’re so good, Bucky,” you whined.

“I’m supposed to be saying that to you,” he chuckled almost breathlessly, coming down and placing his lips on yours with a kiss that had your head swimming. He pulled back to take a look down, loving the sight of him snug inside your warm walls. With his flesh hand, he pressed his fingers onto your clit, rubbing harsh circles, you grabbed and clawed at his forearm at the immense pleasure, eyes widening because it was proving to be too much.

The twisting coil that was settling in you suddenly snapped. With a loud rough moan, you were uncontrollably quaking beneath him, you knew Bucky couldn’t be far away from you. His bruising grip on your thighs and the faltering thrusts of his hips from your walls squeezing at him repetitively, he finally let go, emptying himself until he was sure he was completely spent. Fuck, and you loved feeling his cum shoot deep in you.

Watching his abdominal muscles contract with every breath, he pulled out and tried to regain his breathing, but before he could collapse, he used his last remaining ounce of strength to pull you up and back down with him on the other end of the massage bed.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks you this time short of breath. You managed to let out a tiresome laugh and pathetically slapped his chest, but knew it was to no avail with what little energy you had left.

Several moments later, you both had calmed down and were prolonging the inevitable end. Bucky watched as you absentmindedly traced the outline of his metal arm. He longed for someone that was raw in nature, confident and there you were – walking into his life by mistake. He wasn’t sure where you stood aside from a physical standpoint, but he strangely craved for more.

You managed to stand back up on your own feet and drag Bucky back into the shower to clean off. You helped each other wash off the gel and mixed juices, with a few kisses shared here and there riddled along with soft sweet praises.

After helping you wipe down the bed and tidy up the room, Bucky couldn’t help but realize he felt good. Gone was the grumpy man that came against his own will. He definitely felt refreshed and his body felt great. This place really was all that it cracked up to be and he was just lucky enough to be assigned to you.

“What?” You asked catching him starting just as you slipped your robe back on.

“I want to see you again,” he says getting up from the bed.

You smiled at that. No one has ever made you feel that good. Your bodies seemed to be in sync with one another. Plus, during that last shower, you deduced that he could be a big softie when he wanted to be.

You wanted to see him again too and you would let him.

Once Bucky stepped back into the lobby, his peace of mind was shattered when he heard Sam yell. “Finally!” He watched as his friend threw the magazine he wasn’t really reading aside and stand up with a loose smile on his face. “How do you feel, man?”

“Amazing.” Bucky’s tone was audibly smoother and calm as opposed to earlier.

“Good! You were in there for a long time. I don’t know what massage you chose, but whatever they did on you...I’m glad it knocked out that attitude of yours,” he says as if he didn’t have one before his massage.

“Whatever. You’re exaggerating.”

“I even left to get something to eat and you were still in there!”

Shit. Were you both really that long? Was that normal? To Bucky it didn’t seem so. In fact, he wanted more time with you.

They both approach the same receptionist from earlier, who now donned a subtle smug disposition seeing the change in complexion on Bucky.

“Would you like to leave a tip?” She asked Bucky politely and just before he could say yes, he was interrupted.

“Oh, he’s good! He’s all taken care of,” you quickly interjected, popping out of nowhere and effectively grabbing Bucky’s attention one more time with a sweet smile. You wanted to be the last thing he saw when he walked out that door. Bucky didn’t even hear Sam ask how in the world he got you as his masseuse.

Your co-worker nodded understandingly before turning to Sam to ask if he’d like to book another visit.

“Yeah…when is she next available?” Sam asks the receptionist while looking at you. You hadn’t managed to only grab Bucky’s attention, but also his friend.

How Bucky hadn’t noticed it before everything was beyond him. You had a certain glow that was very alluring. He wondered if it was possible for anyone to look away from you or not smile in your presence.

Something Bucky failed to conceal was the rising discomfort he was feeling hearing the suggestive tone in Sam’s voice when speaking about you mixed with a small bubble of anxiety on if there was a possibility that he’d get to be alone in a room with you.

Before Sam could get a definite answer, you looked to your co-worker at the front desk, grinned at each other and then back over at the two men.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m booked,” sending a wink towards Bucky and disappearing to the back.

A/N: I work in digital marketing and what with all the searching I did I’m now paranoid that I’ll be targeted for a massage…even though I could use one. I did my best to proofread. Let me know if you liked it!

#mrwinterr writes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x y/n #marvel fic #marvel fanfic #slippery smooth

2K notes · View notes

love-and-monsters · 4 years ago

Text

Harpy Model

M harpy X GN human, 6,762 words.

This story is based on this post that I was tagged in by the lovely and talented @p-gretz. Thanks for the inspiration!

You fumbled with the camera equipment in your hands. The tripod kept trying to escape under your elbow, but shifting to secure it would mean losing the lens cap, and grabbing for that jeopardized the magnifier you had balanced against your collarbone. If people stopped dumping things on you at every given opportunity, you probably would have been alright, but being the lowest member on the totem pole meant your status was barely better than a self-propelled table.

The tripod slipped another inch down and you automatically grabbed at it. The sudden movement unbalanced the camera in the center of the pile. With a clatter of plastic, it slipped free, tumbling toward the ground.

A feathered hand snagged the camera strap, jerking it to a halt seconds before it struck the ground. “Need some help?” a slightly accented male voice asked.

“Thanks, but I got it,” you said. A total lie. You could not have had it less if you’d tried.

“Nonsense. At least let me take something so you can get better situated.” Before you could protest again, he had removed several of the objects, tucking them into his feathered arms.

Without the constant danger of dropping something if you so much as twitched, you were able to shift the pile in your arms into a better position. “Thank you. I’m sorry, I-”

You froze. It felt embarrassingly out of character for you to look at someone and freeze, but his face made something in your chest do backflips.

He was elegantly made up, with touches lengthening his lashes and emphasizing his cheekbones. His hair was pale and curling in little waves around his ears. Delicate feathers sprouted around his neck, trailing down toward his arms. They were pale white, with touches of pink. His tail was easily the most striking part of him. Long, green feathers made a train behind him that brushed the floor and gave him the impression of a trailing cloak. He stood delicately on bird-like talons, poised like a dancer.

Fortunately, your freeze only lasted a couple of seconds, and you disguised it by pretending to drop and recover one of your many items. “Sorry. I’m trying to go to studio, um. A12, so I’ll just be heading over there-”

The man laughed. It was more gentle than mocking, but you felt your stomach shrivel in embarrassment regardless. “Really? Then you’re heading in the wrong direction. I’m headed in the same direction. I can walk you there.”

“I wouldn’t want to bother you,” you said.

“It’s not a bother. You seem like you could use the help.” You blushed furiously, but the man didn’t seem to notice. He shifted the camera he’d taken from you into a more comfortable position in his arm. “Are you new here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before.”

“Yeah. I’m, um. The new intern, basically. You’ve been here for a while?”

“I work with a few different photography places as a model. But I’ve had a contract here for some time.” He flicked his tail casually. “If you need help, I can show you around a little bit when we’re done. This place can be a real maze until you get used to it.”

“Oh, I couldn’t impose on you like that. I mean, you’re probably really busy and I don’t want to take up any of your valuable time-”

The harpy laughed. “My time is hardly the most valuable time here. And, if we’re being really honest…” He leaned in close to your ear. His feathers tickled as he put a hand up to his mouth. “I don’t mind making some of the people around here wait. They’re all really stuck up.” He leaned back and dropped you a glittery wink before strolling on ahead. “Come with me! It’s this way.”

You hurried after him. He had a particularly flowing, graceful way of moving. It wasn’t hard to believe he was a model- even if you hadn’t met him in the studio, you would have guessed it. He moved like he was always on a catwalk.

The studio was particularly maze-like. There were multiple winding halls with several doors each. Only a few small signs gave any sign of where anything was, and casual racks of clothes strewn around the hallway blocked more than half of them. The harpy, however, strode through the halls with a practiced ease.

After several turns, you finally came across a door marked Studio A12. The harpy pushed the door open and paused to let you through before stepping in himself.

“Revali! You’re late!” An impatient-looking woman glared across the room at him. You froze automatically, but he just put down the equipment he’d been carrying on a nearby table and gave you a wink.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” he said. You turned away from him as your supervisor approached you.

“You’re late too,” he said.

“Sorry. I kind of got lost.”

“I know it’s your first week here, so I’m not going to scold you for this, but being on time is important here. At least for the photographers.” He cast a disparaging look at Revali who was chatting cheerfully with the stern-looking woman. “Models get more leeway.”

“He doesn’t seem so bad,” you said. “I thought a lot of models here were kind of stuck up.”

“He’s not stuck up,” your supervisor agreed. “He’s got the opposite problem. He doesn’t take anything seriously. One of those types who float through life on nothing but their good looks.”

The photoshoot started right after he spoke and you were immediately swept up in the business of it all. Your job was essentially doing whatever anyone needed of you, and they needed a lot. You spent most of the time scrambling around, fixing lights, grabbing accessories, fetching camera equipment, and being a general gopher. The photoshoot lasted only an hour and a half, but you were exhausted by the time it was over.

You sagged by the door, waiting for your next task to be assigned. Revali was having some sort of conversation with his manager that seemed to be verging on an argument, at least on her end. Revali looked as casual as ever.

His manager said something stabbing a finger in his face. He didn’t even flinch. He just lifted one of his shoulders in a slight shrug and, with a flick of his tail, strolled away.

“Ready for the tour?” he asked as he walked over to you. He had a particular way of walking, like he was constantly on a catwalk. It really was more of a strut than a casual walk.

“I already said you don’t have to. And, um, I don’t want to get you in trouble.” You made a subtle head motion toward his managers, who was alternating between looking at her phone screen and glaring at him.

Revali tossed his head. “She’s not my mother. She doesn’t control me. I do what I like. And right now, I’d like to take you on a tour of the studio. Why don’t you come with me?”

You glanced back at his manager. Revali shifted in front of you, blocking her from your sight. “All right,” you said. “But it can’t take too long. I’ve still got other responsibilities to take care of.”

Revali nodded and gestured for you to follow him out the door. “Like I said, this whole place is kind of a maze. I swear, they designed every section to look as similar as possible. But, you can figure out where all the studios are because it’s broken into sections. The stairwells are always marked with the sections. Even numbers are always to the right when you get off the stairwells and odd numbers to the left. Here, I’ll show you how to get to a couple of the bigger studios-”

Revali was right- the entire place seemed to have been designed like a weird, spiraling maze. You ended up needing to take notes on everything he told you. When you finally came to a stop, you were almost dizzy from all the turns you’d needed to make.

“Where are we?” you asked, looking around. “I haven’t been in this part of the building before.” It was almost indistinguishable from the other parts of the building, with eh same florescent lights and powder blue walls, but there were larger signs next to every door and they were spaced closer together.

“Yes, you probably haven’t needed to come down here yet.” Revali opened one of the doors and stepped inside. It was a small room with a large mirror taking up most of one wall, a couch, a minifridge, and a few racks of fancy-looking clothes. “They’re the model rooms. Those of us who have long-term contracts here get our own little spaces when we’re not working.” He strode across the room and sprawled on his couch.

You stood in the doorway. One of the models taking an interest in you and then inviting you back to his personal room? It was hard to keep your imagination from going places. “Hey, uh. I don’t want to be rude, but if you invited me back here for some, uh, fun, I’m not really into casual flings, so-”

Revali shrugged. “Whether or not we have sex is entirely up to you. I’ve had a couple flings in here. Honestly, they didn’t do much for me.”

If he had been attempting to make you more comfortable, it had backfired. Great. Now you didn’t want to sit down anywhere. You remained in the doorway. “Why did you bring me here, then?”

Revali shrugged. “You seemed overwhelmed,” he said. “And it’s much quieter down here.” There was a series of thumps and cursing on the other side of the wall. Revali glared at it. “Mostly, anyway.”

You plucked up your courage and settled on the couch next to him. He grinned. “Also, it’s lunch time and I like eating with other people. I make way too much food all the time.”

Revali grabbed a few Tupperware containers out of his minifridge and lay them out on the table next to you. Most of them appeared to be some sort of meat covered in a thick sauce. Revali was looking at you eagerly, so you took the fork he was offering and took a bite.

“Oh!” you said. “It’s good!”

“Yeah?” Revali said. “I cook when I’m stressed, so I always have more food than I need.” You took a few more bites, enjoying the richness and spiciness of the sauce over the umami of the meat. Revali leaned back, watching you eat with a strange amount of intensity.

“Um. Are you going to have some?” you asked, gesturing to the food. Revali made a face.

“Can’t. I have my own lunch here.” He pulled out an uninspired-looking salad with a few strips of grilled chicken on top.

“You make food, but then you don’t eat it?” you asked. Revali shrugged.

“The life of a model. I do need to keep in shape,” he said. “But I’m always cooking, so you can come over any time you want. I’ll give you a free lunch.”

“You could try at least one bite,” you said. You lifted a piece of meat on your fork and held it out to him. Revali lifted a brow. “Come on. You made all this. I’ll feel bad if I’m the only one who gets to eat it.”

Revali’s brow lifted a little higher. “Well, if you’ll feel bad, I suppose I have no choice but to spare your feelings.” You had intended for him to take the fork from you, but instead, he leaned forward and picked the chunk of meat off the fork with his teeth. He sprawled back and chewed, eyes closing. “Mm. It is good.”

You glanced around the room. It was slightly messy, with clothes and makeup strewn all over the place. Nothing was dirty, but it was a little cluttered. “How did you get into modeling, anyway?”

Revali opened his eyes and pushed himself more upright. “It was a few years ago. Just started doing a few local things, then I got scouted by my current agency. It’s not the most fun, really, but it’s pretty good money. Better than flipping burgers at a fast food restaurant, at least.” He shrugged. “Never finished college, so my job prospects are pretty limited.” He eyed you. “What about you?”

“I finished college a month or so ago. Studied photography. I’m hoping that this internship will lead to an actual job in the future, because right now I’m kind of living off my savings.” You gave a weak chuckle. “I kind of wanted to do my own photography thing, but, you know. Better to have a stable job.”

“Don’t I know it. I’d love to do some more interesting projects, but these ones pay well, which is what my manager likes.” Revali checked his phone and grimaced. “I’m going to have to head to my next shoot in a few minutes. You can hang out here if you like. Just put stuff back when you’re done with it.”

“I should probably be getting back now anyway,” you said, standing up. “Thank you for the lunch, though. You’re a good cook.”

“Thank you. Come back any time. Like I said, I’ve always got food. Actually, let me walk you back to the photo area. Just to make sure you get there all right.” Revali held the door open for you as you stepped into the hall.

“I’m not that hopeless,” you said, starting to head down the hallway. Revali snickered and you stopped. “What?”

“You sure?” he said. “Because, uh, you are going the complete wrong direction.”

“Oh,” you said. “I. Um. That’s embarrassing.”

“You’ll get used to it. Eventually. Here, I’ll show you the way.” Revali linked his arm through yours. “This all right?”

“Sure,” you said. “Thank you. Again.”

“No problem at all! Now, we should probably hurry, so I don’t get yelled at twice in one day. My manager would blow a blood vessel.” Revali headed off at a rapid trot, forcing you to jog to keep up.

Meeting him for lunch became a regular practice after that. He usually had something new and interesting for you to try, and he seemed to enjoy your company. Every day, you would slip out of work and head down to his dressing room for at least half an hour. A few times, you lost track of the time and had to sprint to make it back to your next shoot.

“They’re really putting you through the ringer, huh?” Revali said as you collapsed on his couch. He was wearing the sparkliest blue jacket you’d ever seen. Whether it was actually for a shoot or not was up in the air- Revali was the sort of person who would wear it out and about.

“It’s all right. I wish I was allowed to do more than just menial labor, though. I knew I was going to get the tasks people didn’t like when I started, but I wish I had more learning experiences. I feel like I’ve barely held a camera for something other than handing it to someone.”

Revali stretched his arms over his head, wings twitching. It was always interesting to watch the way they moved. They were a combination of wings and arms, with feathers sprouting all along his arms and the wing tip and hands separating at the wrists. Whenever he wore long sleeves, he needed to cut slits for the feathers and tied the ends closed around his wrists. They were usually tied closed with some sort of bangle, so he nearly always jingled when he moved his arms. “That’s a bummer. Have you been able to take any photos at all recently?”

“Nah. I’ve been too busy. When I get home from work, all I want to do is collapse. And I’ve been having trouble getting inspiration. I’ve been trying to get out more and do some shoots in nature, because it’s a lot nicer than the manufactured settings we have here, but I’ve been having trouble finding a model.”

Revali sat up straighter. “Having trouble finding a model, hm? Well, isn’t is just so fortunate that I happen to have some skills in that particular department?”

“Are you sure? I can’t really pay you much. That’s part of the reason I’ve been having trouble getting some models. When your job isn’t paying you anything, you can’t afford to hire someone for an afternoon. And I’m just not connected enough to find someone willing to do it for free.”

“I think we can help each other out,” Revali said. “I do actually need some new photos for my portfolio, and I think it would be nice to have a more natural setting. Let me use the photos and I’ll do it for free.”

“You’d be willing to do that? And you’re not too busy? I know you’ve kind of been running ragged for the past few days,” you said.

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all. Like I said, it gives us both something we want.” He whipped a phone out of his pocket and started tapping on the screen. “Let’s see. I’m free Saturday afternoon, if that works for you?” You nodded. “Wonderful. Text me your address, I’ll stop by and you can take me wherever you want.”

Your phone timer dinged and you jumped to your feet. “Oh, shoot, I need to get going. Um, I guess I’ll see you then? And thank you!”

“Don’t worry about it, cutie. Just go.” He waved a hand at you. “I’d hate to see you get yelled at on my behalf.”

You scrambled out the door, waving goodbye to him once more before heading down the hall.

Waiting for Saturday became the highlight of your week. You deliberated over the best location, eventually picking a slightly secluded, riverside area. Revali had agreed to bring some of his own outfits, which he had allowed you to approve. They were simpler than the outfits he usually wore to work, with more natural colors, but he still looked good in them.

You spent a lot of time fussing with your cameras on the day of the shoot. It would be terribly embarrassing for Revali to show up and see you unprepared.

The knock on your door was startling. You carefully placed your camera on your table and hurried to answer it.

Revali was leaning against the doorway. “Hello, darling. Ready to go?”

He was wearing some fancy-looking gold and silver makeup and he’d done something to plump up his tail. It was long and fancy typically, but he’d added long lines of beads and fluff to his tail, making it look even more striking than usual.

“Wow,” you said. You were suddenly overly conscious about how messy your hair was and the fact that you’d just kind of thrown on the first clothes you’d laid your eyes on in the morning. Would it be weird if you made an excuse to go change? “Uh. Do you want to come in for a minute? I just, uh, need to finish something up.”

Revali stepped into your house. “Nice place,” he said, glancing around. You snorted.

“Please. I’m renting a house in the middle of nowhere that has, like, three rooms. Uh, make yourself comfortable. I just need to, um. Grab a jacket.”

“It’s nicely decorated, though. You have a good aesthetic sense.” Most of the stuff you had was from second-hand stores, but it did all sort of go together in a sort of farmhouse-chic way.

You hurried into your room and swapped your old sweatshirt out for a nicer shirt and one of your nicer jackets. The pants were staying, they were good enough. You hurried back out into the kitchen. Revali was examining a few of the photos that adorned your walls.

“You take these?” he asked. They were mostly nature shots, images of animals or flowers up close or landscape shots of rolling fields or mountains.

“Yeah. Most of them were for class. I just hung up the best ones,” you said.

“They’re nice. I like them. Do you like taking picture of nature better? Than of people, I mean.”

“Um. I mean. They’re both nice, just in different ways. There’s something really meditative about taking pictures of nature. It’s peaceful. Working with people can be harder, but it’s also kind of rewarding? Like, taking photos for a wedding is really nice. You get to capture a really great moment in someone’s life and then, when they look back at it, you help them remember the good moments. I like being able to do that for people.”

Revali looked at you. His eyes were bright, assessing. “Why do you work for the studio? It’s not any of those things you said, peaceful or rewarding. It’s mostly just stressful.”

“It makes money,” you said as you headed for the door. “Why do you work for the agency?”

There was a pause, long enough for you to get in the car. “Because it makes good money,” Revali finally said. “And it also means I get my face out there. I like being well known, you know.”

“I can’t imagine wanting that. I like being behind the scenes way more.”

Revali settled back in the seat and watched the fields roll by. “Where are we headed?”

“Um, there’s this nice little riverside area in a stand of trees. I thought it might make for some pretty photos.” You glanced at him uncertainly. “I hope that’s okay with you. I know you said you’d be okay with a nature shoot, but hope you’re not going to be too upset with a little dirt. I’ll try to keep you out of it, but-”

Revali burst into peals of laughter. You twisted your head to stare at him before realizing that you should probably keep your eyes on the road. “What? What’s so funny?”

“Oh, I shouldn’t laugh! It just struck me as very funny, but you had no way of knowing, of course.” Revali wiped a stray tear away. “Do you know where I grew up?”

“No,” you said. He hadn’t told you, had he? Revali seemed unoffended. He ran a hand through his hair, which somehow still looked artfully tousled. You were temporarily distracted by the way little tufts curled loosely around his ears. Hurriedly, you turned your gaze back to the road.

“I grew up on a farm,” he said. He fluttered his feathers. “I’m a cockerel harpy- I’ve got my fancy show feathers, but I’m not exactly a bird of paradise. It’s a family thing. I grew up working in the dirt and mud, and whenever I go home, I’m expected to do it again.”

“I never would have guessed,” you said honestly. He had the soft looks of someone who had never worked hard labor, but when you looked him over again, you could see how his smooth muscles might have come from farm work. “Your family didn’t mind, then, you going to be a model?”

“You think I have some sob story about running away from my strict farm father to pursue my dreams of being in the spotlight?” Revali smirked at you. “No. My father was disappointed, I think. He did want me to carry on the tradition. But I’ve got two younger sister who are much more invested in the farm life, so he didn’t have any fears about passing everything on and both my parents are the ‘follow your dreams’ sort, so they probably would have let me go anyway. I’m not sure they understand what I see in modeling, but they support me nonetheless.”

It was a short drive to the little grove. You parked out of the way and gathered your camera equipment while Revali looked around the area. “It’s pretty,” he said, inspecting a spray of yellow flowers. “You have a good eye.”

“Thanks.” You carefully placed the tripod. “Okay, first things first. I want to get some full-body portraits first, then we can move on to the up-close stuff.”

Revali was easy to work with, easier than you would have guessed from the number of arguments he got into with his manager. He posed gracefully, responded to your every critique thoughtfully and carefully, and even put up with your artistic considerations with far more patience than you would have expected. Even when you spent several minutes forcing him to hold a pose while you got the angle just right, he didn’t complain.

About two hours after you had started, you called a break. Revali shrugged his artfully-held jacket back on and lounged against a tree. “Can I see some of the photos?” he asked.

You considered for a moment, then handed the camera over with the same care you would with a baby. Probably more, really. “Just don’t break anything, all right?”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Revali said. “I’ve only ever dropped two cameras. And one of them survived with only minimal damage!” You stared at him in wide-eyed horror. “I’m kidding! I’ll be very careful.”

He clicked through the camera’s photo roll. You sat nearby, leg jittering nervously. His expression was inscrutable.

“These are nice,” he said after a few moments. “I mean, they’re quite good. Better than a lot of the shoots I’ve been to recently. I like the shadow and light here.” He tapped at the photo on screen. You leaned over to see which one he was talking about. It was one of the close-ups, where Revali was staring up through the trees. The sunlight dappled leaf shadows across his face and picked up the flecks of gold in his dark eyes.

“It’s just a photo of your face,” you said, a little embarrassed by the praise. “I mean, it’s hard to make you look bad.”

“Oh, you’re being too modest. A poor picture can make anyone look bad and my lovely face can only do so much. You’re the one who set up the shot and was all clever with the lighting and whatnot.” Revali gave a little wave of his hand. “Honestly, it’s better than a few of my modeling pictures. And you’re much better at giving direction than most of the people at the studio. I swear, the number of times I just get told to look pouty at the camera is ridiculous. Or ridiculously esoteric shit. ‘Think about your best friend returning after a long time away’ my ass. Just tell me exactly what to do with my face and I’ll do it.” He stopped and gave you a slightly embarrassed look. “Not to make this about me, of course. But yes, you are quite good. It’s a shame you don’t get more projects.”

You shrugged. “I’d like to do more independent stuff. But I just don’t have any connections and I’ve been having a hard time getting gigs and, well, it’s just hard when you’re getting started.”

Revali tilted his head to one side. “Things will get better,” he said. You huffed out a sigh.

“I hope so. I’m gonna go crazy if I don’t get to do something interesting in my actual job soon.” You fiddled with a few of the camera settings again. “Ready?”

“Certainly.” The photoshoot commenced once more. Revali seemed to be putting his all into the shoot, which you appreciated. He probably could have slipped by with just posing halfheartedly, but he was really putting effort forward.

You spent longer on a photoshoot than you had expected. Revali was nice to work with, cracking little jokes at every opportunity and being patient with any technical mishaps. The sun had started to sink toward the horizon by the time you were done.

“Sorry that took so long,” you said. “I didn’t mean to take up your weekend.”

“I’m really fine.” Revali flicked his tail, combing his fingers through the long feathers. “You apologize a lot, don’t you?”

“I just don’t want to come across as rude,” you said. Revali laughed.

“That’s one thing you certainly don’t do,” he said. “I enjoyed myself.”

“Still,” you said as the pair of you headed back toward his car, “why don’t I buy you dinner? It’s the least I can do.”

Revali looked down at you. His dark eyes glittered with interest. “If you’re offering, then I’ll certainly take you up on it.”

It took some driving around, but you eventually settled on a small café fairly close to Revali’s townhouse. He selected some sort of salad and you picked out a sandwich. Revali was right, the place was quite good. “I’ve never been here before,” you said. “I guess I haven’t been eating out for lunch as much, though.”

“I’m pleased my cooking is so good to you,” Revali said. He picked at his salad, moving the leaves around more than he was eating them. A knot started to form in your stomach.

“Hey.” Revali looked up. Your tone must have been strange because his expression became serious. “Um. You don’t, um. Eat much.”

Revali lowered his fork. “Ah. I did notice you staring during meals, but I suppose I was trying to flatter myself, thinking it was entirely my good looks.”

You felt hot. “I’m sorry, I know it might be rude to bring it up. But I’m just a little worried. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“Hm,” Revali muttered. He put down his fork and shifted in his seat. His feathers rustled and ruffled. “I did have some trouble with eating well when I was younger. It never developed into a full-blown disorder, but I have always had a bit of an issue with maintaining my looks. I suppose my current representation isn’t helping with this issue.”

“Your manager?” you guessed. Revali gave a tight-lipped smile.

“Yes. I gained a pound the other week and got a bit of a lecture for it. Apparently, thin men are in right now. Harpies are usually fine boned and slender and all that, but I suppose it’s not quite enough for her.” A swell of anxiety crested behind his words.

You fiddled with a toothpick. “Can you get new representation?”

“Unfortunately, I can’t. She is the only available representative for the company I have a contract with right now. And even if I could switch, I don’t have any guarantee that the next manager would be any better. Extreme dieting is not exactly uncommon in the modeling industry.” He sighed, picking up his fork and poking at the salad a few times before spearing a large bite and shoving it into his mouth. “The contract actually expires in a couple weeks,” he said, swallowing the bite. “She’s not happy about it. She really wants me to sign on again, but I haven’t done it yet.”

“What’ll you do if you don’t sign on again? Try to go somewhere else?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been modeling for a few years now. I’m not sure what else to do. But I’ll admit, I don’t love the culture. It’s not great for my mental health, in all honesty. I just don’t know what else to do.”

He looked so despondent that you couldn’t help but reach across the table and take his hand. He stared at your fingers for a moment before lifting his gaze to yours. “I’m sure whatever you chose will be the right thing,” you said. “I think, if your modeling career is bad for your mental health, then you can quit. You’re more than just a pretty face, you know? You know more about photoshoots than you think you do. You’ve got a good sense for lighting and you’ve even got a better idea of colors than I do. And you’ve got a really great fashion sense. I think there’s a lot you could do.”

Revali blinked at you for a moment, then his face broke into a breathtaking smile. A blush stole across your face, blazing in your cheeks. He looked unbearably beautiful. It wasn’t just the features of his face, though they were all very good. It was the clear and genuine delight that the smile conveyed. “I don’t think I’ve had someone compliment me so sweetly in a long time! At least, not on something other than my looks.”

“Not to mention, you’re a kick-ass cook,” you added. Revali laughed and took a sip of his water. You weren’t sure, because he had quite a bit of makeup on, but you though you could see a hint of pink tinging his cheeks.

“If I’m looking for a less stressful job than modeling, I don’t think being a chef is a good choice. And I’m not quite good enough to be in the industry. But it is nice to have my skills complimented.” He took another sip. “But thank you. Being a model can make it so your looks are the most important part of your life. It’s good to be reminded they’re not the most important thing about me.”

You shrugged. “Hey, I’m not much in the looks department, so I’m pretty good at looking past that.”

“Now, now, don’t be modest. You’re quite cute yourself,” Revali said, dropping a glittery wink. You felt yourself flushing again.

After dinner, you returned home and bid Revali a farewell. You spent the evening examining the photos you’d taken. Most of them were quite good. At the very least, they would make good photos for your portfolio. You considered them for a few moments, then pulled up the bare bones of your website and started uploading the photos.

The next day, you joined Revali for lunch again. He was wearing more than his usual makeup, but even so, you could see the slight puffiness around his eyes. “Tired?” you asked.

“Ughh. My manager and I got into a fight last night, after I got home. Things were said.” He massaged his forehead. “Tell me something good, darling, I need it.”

“Um,” you said. “I set up my website last night? Or I started setting it up, at least.”

Revali focused fully on you. “Your website?”

“Yeah. Um, I hope you don’t mind, I put some of the pictures we took up there. I want to see if I can start freelancing, at least in my free time.” Revali perked up. The tired look slid off his face.

“I don’t mind. I’m used to having my pictures all over the place. So, you’ve decided to start doing your own thing, now?” He leaned toward you.

“At least a little bit. The hardest part will be getting clients. Once I build up a little bit of a base, I can start getting people by word of mouth and stuff. But it’s difficult now.”

“I’d expect so,” Revali said, but he appeared to only be half paying attention. His gaze had become a little unfocused, like he was thinking about something else. “You know what, my next shoot’s in a few minutes. You can hang out here if you want. I’ll see you later.”

You met for lunch a few times in the next couple of weeks. Revali’s mood seemed to have improved. He was much more cheerful and, to your great relief, he seemed to be eating more.

It was almost exactly two weeks after you’d had your photoshoot when Revali sought you out at work. “I was going to come by for lunch,” you said. “Is something wrong?”

Revali seized your hands. “No. Things are great! I just told my manager to fuck off!” He proclaimed it loudly enough that several people in the vicinity turned toward him. You ignored them.

“That is great! I’m so glad for you,” you said.

“That’s not everything,” Revali said. “I have a surprise for you.” His tail twitched and flicked with excitement. “Follow me!”

Revali tugged you through the building, down to his dressing room. “Okay. Remember how you were talking about having trouble getting clientele?”

“Yeah,” you said cautiously.

“Well, I’ve been a model for a while. Which means I have some connections and some favors.” Revali opened the door and tugged you inside. “So, I thought I’d call some in!”

The room did not look different. You looked cautiously at Revali. “Uh. What am I supposed to be looking at?”

“This!” Revali snatched a stack of papers off a table and thrust them at you. You flipped through them. “It’s the information of people who want to have photoshoots! There’s a couple of weddings, one person wants a pet thing, a couple of people want you to take photos for cosplays- I told them all that you were really good and you’re easy to work with and a bunch of people were willing to give it a shot.”

“You got me gigs?” There was a note of incredulity in your voice. “Like, paying gigs?”

“Yes! I told you, I have some contacts and some favors. I pulled a few strings.” Revali fluttered his wings.

“Thank you,” you said. “I don’t know what to say.”

“All the information you need is there. You can contact them all for more information, but it should have the basics.” Revali sprawled across his couch. “I figured that if I was going out, I might as well use my connections for good.”

“Going out?” you said, perching on the couch next to him.

“Yeah.” Revali rubbed at the back of his neck. “I told my manager to fuck off, remember? There’s a solid chance I’ll get blackballed for it, and even if I don’t, I don’t think I want to do this modeling thing anymore. It hasn’t been great for my mental health. And I’d like to be seen as more than just a pretty face.”

“You have plans?” you asked.

“No. I’ve got some money saved up. I figure I can afford to coast for a little bit. And if it really gets bad, I’m sure my dad would be happy to have me back on the farm.” He laughed, but you caught the slight downturn of his mouth. You ran your finger along the edge of the paper stack.

“If you’re interested, these are a lot of jobs. I think I could use a little bit of help,” you said. Revali blinked at you. “I can’t pay much, but it’ll be a little bit of money and if I start getting really good, I can hire you on full time. You’ve already shown you’ve got an eye for this stuff.”

“Really?” Revali said. He stared at you disbelievingly. “You’re willing to do that for me?”

“It would help me as much as it would help you. I mean, you’ve already been a huge help and you’re not even working for me yet. I think we’d make a good team.”

Revali looked enormously delighted. “Oh, thank you! You’re incredible!” With no warning, he ducked forward, his hands came up to the sides of your face, and he pressed his mouth to yours.

Your brain short-circuited temporarily. There wasn’t a single coherent thought in your mind. Just a bunch of sensations. Mouth. On your mouth. Kissing. Revali was kissing you. Passionately. His hands were on your face. His feathers were tickling you. His breath was warm on your face.

He broke away from you before you could gain enough sense to kiss back. Revali grinned sheepishly. “Oh. That was sort of supposed to be the grand finale. We were supposed to go out for dinner first. I just got excited.”

You pulled your thoughts together. “You were going to ask me out?”

“I thought you deserved something for taking me out a while ago. And I’ve been thinking about asking you out for a while. But you looked so cute there and I was very grateful, and I just couldn’t help myself,” he said. “I hope you didn’t mind too much?”

“No,” you said. “I didn’t mind. At all.” Revali smiled. You were drawn to the curve of his mouth, the fullness of his upper lip. “But, maybe just to make sure, we should do it again?”

Revali’s smile got bigger. “You know, I was thinking that I’m not going to have this dressing room much longer. There are a lot of things we could do in here. Celebrate our moving on and all that.”

“Let’s start with kissing,” you said, “and we can see where it goes.”

Revali leaned closer to you. “Start with kissing. I can do that.”

#exophilia #harpy #harpy boyfriend #monster boyfriend #monster lover #his name is a reference btw #rooster harpy #male monster

169 notes · View notes

orangefoxes · 3 years ago

Note

Hey, so I've been trying to submit a prompt but it won't work so here it goes I know this will be sad but what if Neil gets really sad and depressed (the reason is up for interpretation ex: bullied by jack or is haunted by PTSD) and so he becomes full of self hate and becomes anorexic and cuts himself #andreil (this would mean so much since I've been through similar circumstances and was strong enough to pull through and keep living, this book and your Tumblr have helped me so much)

Hi @soph-ie21 I am so sorry this took a whopping 4 years for me to post. I’m terrible for not checking my inbox as my notifications have been turned off for tumblr since I was like 13. I’m so glad to hear that you recovered from your ED, you must be so strong and I’m so proud of you as I know how difficult that is to do. I’m hoping this is the sort of prompt you were looking for, if you’re even looking after this long, as it’s not very dialogue heavy, but here you go.

TRIGGER WARNING: EATING DISORDER, SELF LOATHING, ANOREXIA.

When in high stress situations, to cope, the brain releases a hormone called cortisol. It’s alright in small doses, helpful even. It triggers your fight or flight response and readies the body to do something, fast. Constant exposure to the hormone however, has some not so good long term effects. Effects that include, but are not limited to: high blood pressure, heart disease, type 2 diabetes, osteoporosis, and, arguably the mildest, weight gain.

Cortisol results in weight gain for two reasons. The first is because it slows your metabolism, and the second is because the drop in blood sugar from constant high blood pressure means that you start craving fatty, sugary foods, which leads to overeating. Neil’s memory is not nearly good enough for him to recall what foods he had craved over the years, but he and his mother shied away from sweets and chocolate for dental reasons, it probably would have been a hardship for many kids growing up but Neil had never much cared for sugar anyway. However, what he and his mother did indulge in is a lot of fatty, fast food. Partly because it was cheap, partly because it was something they could eat while on the move, and partly because no one would look twice at two sketchy people in a Burger King or remember a beaten up old car briefly pausing in a drive thru.

While never giving much thought to how he looked (short of checking for ginger roots and the bruise on his cheek from where his mother had slapped that smile from his face), Neil does remember his weight fluctuating a lot when he was younger. The more stressful the months, the chubbier he got. It was in the quiet periods as he and his mother settled down and didn’t dare to venture into the supermarket too often that he began to lose it again. It was a cycle.

In Millport, Neil was at his lowest weight yet. There was only a solitary McDonald’s in town and Neil wasn’t about to become a regular. He stocked up on tinned food from the supermarket in his first week in town instead and meticulously made his way through them, heating the can up on the hot plate he had bought for four dollars from the thrift store in the high street.

He gained weight again once he started at Palmetto, he gained muscle mass too. This, of course, was thanks to three free meals a day and a new training regime with daily exercise. It was to be expected, but if, perhaps, he gained weight quicker than his teammates and muscle slower, well, he had bigger things to worry about.

Then he knew he was going to live.

Then everything with the Moriyamas was…well, not gone, but resolved.

That’s not to say there was nothing to stress about. There was the influx of reporters wanting to catch the Foxes’ attention to ask about Nathaniel Wesninski. There was Kevin’s impending break down as Riko’s funeral came and went. There was Aaron’s trial. Honestly it probably would have gone as stressful situations for Neil always go - here and gone just as quickly - except it turns out that Nicky cooks when he’s stressed, and Neil, well, he’s a stress eater.

After Aaron is declared innocent, Nicky resumes as normal. Neil…not quite. He’s constantly opening the cupboards to look for something to eat only to close them again when he finds nothing of interest. Without Nicky cooking, there’s nothing he can easily dig into and Neil, while accumulating many skills over the years, had never been a hand in the kitchen. The only things ready-eat that were consistently in the dorm were ramen and ice-cream. Even the thought of ramen makes Neil want to vomit and Neil wasn’t so desperate that he would resort to eating something as sweet as ice cream. Not that Andrew would let him if he did. (Andrew wasn’t a sharer).

He started to feel hungry.

He was always hungry.

The first few days he started to skip meals, he didn’t even notice he was doing it. Surely he didn’t notice he was doing it.

It’s just -

Here’s the thing.

Maybe he stress eats. Maybe his mother did too. They spent long car journeys with a family sized bag of potato chips resting by the gear stick and they spent half the time stuffing handfuls into their mouths and the other half checking the mirrors for cars that stayed behind them a touch to long. So maybe he stress ate, but it was never because of hunger: it was because of craving. It was because it gave him something to do with his hands. It was only when things quietened down, when the weeks turned long with the monotonous almost-existence that took up the majority of Neil’s life growing up (here’s something no one tells you about life on the run, in between the moments of sheer terror, it’s very very very boring), it was only then, that Neil actually began to feel things like hunger.

So when the hunger pangs began to curdle in his stomach, well, he didn’t mind. It meant he was safe enough to feel the hunger.

Maybe for the first couple of days he didn’t notice it. But then he noticed it.

He noticed enough to avoid things like rice and bread. Danger foods that packed on the calories and that made him bite the inside of his cheek until it bled at the mere thought. He noticed enough that he began to watch the others train and saw their muscles flex and couldn’t help but track their muscle growth and measure it up against his own. He always found himself lacking.

That’s when it started to get worse. If Allison spent 20 minutes on the treadmill. Then Neil would do 30. If Kevin did 40 push ups. Then Neil would do 50. If Renee had a salad for lunch, then Neil would just have a fruit pot.

The first time Andrew noticed that he skipped a meal, Neil just blinked. Being who he was, Neil didn’t do stupid things like stumble for lies and this time was no different. When Andrew asked about him not eating Neil just blinked like he hadn’t even noticed until Andrew brought it up.

He blinked and said “oh, you’re right. I got so caught up in watching exy reruns i didn’t even notice”

He said, “thanks, I’ll grab something in a sec”

Andrew breathed a scoffing breath down his nose, rolled his eyes and called him a junkie. He didn’t look at all surprised, as though Neil was only confirming what he had already guessed. Which of course is the trick all good liars employ.

Neil wondered if he would be surprised if he were to find out how impossible it would be for Neil to forget a meal time. He could never forget. All he thought about was food. It was all he thought about.

Food began to feel like it was all he cared about. Cared about more than school. Cared about more than exy. Is it terrible of him that that more than anything else feels like the worst thing?

And then, as things do, it got worse.

It turned into Neil stood in front of the mirror (looking at his body but not his eyes, never his eyes) and pinching the flesh between his fingers. Noticing every part of him that didn’t harden into muscle like the others. Noticing all the scars that had stretched strangely over a waist and thighs that are no longer as small.

He begins to peck at his food. Rip it into tiny pieces. Andrew looks down at his plate and glowers at him. Neil gives him a cheeky grin. He knows what he’s thinking. That this is just another one of those Andrew-mannerisms that Neil is taking on for himself. Like the sarcastic salutes and the blank, waiting stares. It’s so much easier to hide how little you’ve eaten when it’s all in pieces.

He didn’t know how to explain it. He just knows he needs to be thinner. He needs to weigh less. It’s not about looks. It’s never been about looks. He just needs to do this. He needs to be smaller. It will be alright then. Because then…then…

Well it will be alright then.

So here’s the thing about guilt and self loathing: they’re useless emotions. Andrew would be quick to agree. (Though Andrew is a hypocrite and is chock full of the both of them). His mother would agree too. How many times had Neil slipped poison into someone’s drink, stole from someone just as desperate, shot someone who maybe or maybe-not deserved it? And how many times after that did his mother pinch and prod at him and repeat the same mantra of “don’t you dare let guilt slow you down, you slow down and you’re dead”

Well, Mum, he’s slowed down. He slowed down so much that he’s stopped altogether and guess what? He fucking hates himself.

He replays it all in his head like a terrible loop. The boy in Switzerland that he tricked into taking his jacket so His fathers men would go after him instead. The old women he and his mother tricked into housing them and then slipped something in her tea until she slept and never woke up again. The homeless man who had broken into the house they were squatting in that Neil had shot on instinct. Seth.

Seth. Seth. Seth.

He fucking hates himself. Honestly the hunger pains kind of feel like the best thing he’s ever felt after that. The pain, the ache, he deserves it.

Then it gets worse. Then comes the worst part.

Andrew’s meds change again. The others had begun to make him irritable and he always had an energy crash by about 5pm and a terrible headache. The new ones wouldn’t be of much note as they did nothing groundbreakingly different, short of getting rid of the headaches and not sapping so much of his energy.

Except for one key side effect of the meds.

They suppressed Andrew’s appetite.

More and more Andrew is missing meals. He won’t even eat more than a tablespoon of ice cream. Neil watches him and adjusts himself to suit. He doesn’t know why, but he just can’t be eating more than him, he can’t.

The frustration he feels about Andrew’s meds soon turn to resentment. He hates that he has to watch Andrew not eat and not seem affected by it at all. Andrew lessens his exercise under Betsy’s advice and yet nothing changes. His weight stays the same. He probably even loses some thanks to the loss of muscle. Neil watches and Neil hates. He hates that if he skipped out on training he would pack on the pounds, he hates that his stomach hurt and hurts and Andrew doesn’t spare a thought on food at all.

He starts to avoid the roof. He starts to dodge Andrew’s gaze the same way he does his own in the mirror.

The next time they’re alone and Andrew leans in, more hesitant than he’s been in months, Neil jerks back and snaps “No.”

It isn’t even completely because of the resentment. The majority of it is because he feels disgusting and fat and he can’t bare Andrew touching him right now. Can’t bare him looking at him.

Andrew’s face closes off and he slides back to the other side of the couch. He’s searching Neil’s face, trying to find the misstep, trying to find what he did wrong.

Good, let him think he did something wrong.

Now that’s the resentment.

It’s immediately one of the worst things Neil has ever thought. He remembers sitting, trembling, on the roof, Andrew refusing to touch him saying “I wont be like them, I wont let you let me be”

And Neil’s trying to make him think, wants to make him feel -

Jesus Christ. He’s a piece of fucking shit.

He slams his way out of the dorm and runs and runs and runs.

He sleeps in the locker room and slumps out in the morning so he’s first in the main room for the meeting with Wymack. He sits on a chair that’s as far away from every other seat as it can get while still completing the make do semi-circle around where Wymack usually stands. When the others begin to filter in they take in his new seat, but don’t comment when they see his storming expression.

When Andrew sees him he pauses for a beat in the doorway before continuing to his usual seat on the couch. He stares at Neil blankly, but his hands are clenching and unclenching in his lap. Wymack hesitates but doesn’t say anything. The others play at being uninterested and only Aaron openly looks between Neil and Andrew with a steadyingly darkening expression.

Neil slams his locker and gets changed in the cubicles for the first time in months. He’s vicious in practice. Throwing in as many dirty moves as he can. Andrew stands in the goal and does nothing. When it’s only Wymack’s sharp whistle that stops Neil bringing his racket down on Matt’s arm when he attempts to steal the ball, Neil is benched.

He yanks off his helmet and slumps down on the bench and tries to remember how to breathe through rage.

He’s sat, pinching at the skin on his thigh, for ten minutes before Allison joins him. She holds out a breakfast bar and Neil stiffens.

“Eat, it might help you stop being such a raging asshole,” she says.

Neil takes the breakfast bar and when she doesn’t immediately leave he opens it and snaps a bit off with his fingers.

He stares down the rolled oats and nuts and grimaces at the sticky feeling of the syrup that holds them together. He feels sick.

“Are you going to eat?” Allison says.

Neil looks at her and huffs a bitter breath through his nose. A wry smile pulls at the corner of his lips.

He remembers that Allison battled bulimia for years.

You can’t lie to a liar.

She looks at his face. Concern trying to become anger that she’s trying to force to stay concern. She looks at his face and then over at Andrew, who is stood in his goal watching them as Kevin shouts at him to fucking do something already. She looks back at Neil.

“You know, relationships are hard enough without mental health problems in the mix. Seth and I were a terrible combination for many reasons and that was one them. I’m not saying it can’t be done or that it shouldn’t be done, I’m just saying it makes it so much harder. He used to try to make me eat. I hated him for that. Hated that I had to hide my own habits in my own room. One day, after he stopped me from going to purge one too many times we got into an argument. I said some disgusting things to him. The next day he was in the hospital because of an overdose. He had to get his stomach pumped. You know what the worst thing is? I don’t even remember what it is I said. I don’t know if what I did triggered him or if it would have happened anyway, but it couldn’t have helped. You’re always going to trigger each other at one point or another, it’s unavoidable. But if you know that and you don’t do anything to help yourself…well that’s when every shit thing you think about yourself starts to become true. So tell me, are you a piece of shit that’s going to drag everyone down with you, or are you better than that?”

Neil looks down at the breakfast bar. He still can’t make himself eat it.

He swallows harshly against the lump in his throat. He has to swallow two more times until he’s sure he can talk without crying.

“What’s betsy’s number?” He asks.

Allison doesn’t smile, but she nods like he’s done the right thing and pulls out her phone.

SIDE NOTE: I’d like to point out that Neil is very flawed and toxic in his thinking and Allison is harsh in what she says to him just because she’s a harsh person. If you have an eating disorder I know sometimes help and recovery seems like the worst thing in world and something you really don’t want, but please, please seek help. You can do it.

#Neil josten #andrew minyard #Allison Reynolds #the foxhole court #andreil #all for the game #anorexia #eating disorder

42 notes · View notes