#have you ever been so touched starved you uhhh

[primmise]

☆ genshin men pp head canons but i slowly get more unhinged

first post lmfaoo, i’m not the best at writing, keep that in mind

—

gn-ish reader, they have a hole and it is used.

warnings: shower/bath sex, rut (gorou, tighnari, zhongli), face sitting, size kink..? some r inexperienced, cockwarming, sir kink, slight voyeurism? roleplay, knifeplay n blood (childe), shibari, praise, degrading, temperature play?blowjobs, some r also touched starved, some sensitive. spelling & grammatical errors

°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

includes: kaveh, itto, thoma, gorou, aether, baizhu, alhaitham, ayato, tartaglia, cyno, diluc, kaeya, kazuha, scaramouche/wanderer, heizou, tighnari, xiao, zhongli, dottore, pantalone, capitano, dainsleif

kaveh

not too large, not too small (14.99 cm/5.9 in) nothing will convince me that he’s not submissive. his tip is probably a pretty brownish pink (#c27c89) pretty sensitive as well, could cum (#faf8ed) from just the slightest touch of your fingers. luvs being overstimmed, sometimes he has you over just to spite al haitham.. he knows al haitham can hear him, so.. let’s consider this revenge.

itto

mans huge. 20 cm (7.8 in) AT LEAST. i mean he’s a fucking oni.. tip is like a beige-pink type color (#ffa899) uhhh he probably has a prety vein going up the side of his cock (#c1b2eb) he also probably has a fucking prince albert piercing, one that vibrates maybe.. def has a size kink, he just loves seeing ur face twinge in pain when he thrusts into you, by the time he’s spilling his cum into you you’re in tears, head thrown back and scratching his back in pain.

idk abt him tho

thoma

either a soft dom or plain submissive, loves pleasing you but also loves being spoiled if he had a long day,,, idk maybe a switch tbh… around 6.8 inches, pink!! he’s pink i love pink and i love him #ff87a1 probably,,, well trimmed, i mean i can see him having an entire skincare routine, my little princess frrrr….. sensitive nipples, probably just touch starved in general. secretly likes being degraded

gorou

bark bark. 14 cm (5.5inches) he def whimpers. i want to say its pink but it’s probably more on the beige side (#e6aea3) i dont rlly have much to say abt him, he likes biting……. begs, whines and more whimpers when he’s ina rut, a cutie indeed

aether

pent up 100%, been in teyvat for god knows how many years and bro has not felt the touch of a woman since beidou’s hangout event. 7 inches exactly, pretty pink #f5a9a9, he probably whines and groans cause he’s a cutie patootie probably likes being praised

baizhu

physically cannot be rough with you he will most likely collapse. likes being beneath you, can sub but prefers being dominant (he’s the doctor, he should be caring for you.) he’s a nice size, 7.2 inches. probably has messy handwriting bc he’s lettin u suck him off under his desk/j.. anyways he’s like a pink but like?? idk #b57f83. slutty moans, he’s super loud i bet. when he’s subbing he loves geting his hair pulled

ALHAITHAMMMMMM

my man fr. i love the idea of him being submissive but i’d heavily doubt he would ever sub… anyway he’s probably into being called sir. trims when he feels like it. i want to say he’s a virgin so badly. 7.4 inches at most, i hc him as more tan than he actually is but anyways tip is brown#947e76 pretty brown tho (brown is one of my fave colors) can be rlly rough or rlly gentle, it depends. would be opposed to the idea of letting u suck him off while he’s reading but eventually lets you (he had to bookmark where he began reading so he could reread it, he was too distracted) IF HE DID SUB HE WOULD WHIE,PR AND DEFINTIELY BE LOUD ENOUGH TO BE HEARD EVEN IF YOU WORE HIS HEADPHONES (poor kaveh) sensitive nipples, whines and furrows his eyebrows when you lick them.

ayato

tease. 17.9 cm (7inches exact) now he’s definitely pink and nothing can convince me otherwise, probably a light pink too like #947e76,, like alhaitham,he can be rlly rough or rlly gentle. he breathes heavily and groans, probably into shibari and degrading…. quickies in his office, maybe cockwarming if he feels up to it

ajax

……. he’s probably into some werid shit (no offense) like knifeplay n blood,, i mean he loves sparring so much, so why not incorporate it into sexy time in some way? yk his skill? yea he holds that thing up to ur throat when hes fuckin u (if ur not into that he wont do it ofc bc he actually cares abt u) rough if he had a long day n is super impatient, but slow if he just wants to break you. he loves blowjobs most of the time he’s near fully clothed and yourcompletely naked but if u beg him enough he’ll undres,, he has scars on his chest, and freckles bc cutie… i forgot to put this but he’s probably 7-7.2 inches, #de97a7.

cyno

he’s pretty. probably into roleplay (predator/prey type thing.. personally i’m not but i feel like he is) he’s a nice size.. (6.9 inches) (funny number on purpose.) browm tip #9c7868, really pretty when he fucks u, eyebrows furrowed n biting his lip hard enough he might draw blood. also loves teasing you when he gets the chance, loves hearing you beg, you’re adorable to him.

diluc

human heater!!! hngh i need him. HE loves being called sir…. won’t admit it. he’s big but doesn’t know, bet he’s inexperienced. his tip is literally almost red, #9c7868. either a rough dom, gentle dom, or whiney sub. if u do top him, tease him whenever you get the chance and he’ll go almost as red as his hair n deny everything despite it being true. adelinde always gets a lil suspicious when u come over… but off the topic of that, he rlly enjoys doing it in the shower/bath. it’s warm (orcold), it’s wet, and he’s with you. what more could he want? you have fucked in the tavern after it closed, and you probably will not do it again. (you got a few splinters.)

kaaaaeeeya!!!

he’s like,, really cold. it’s surprising. feels good tho, for the both of you. he’s really loud as well, and despite him being louder than you he shoves his fingers in your mouth to shut you up,, maybe you’ll have to give him something to gag on. anyways he’s like around 7.1 inches, tip is a nice deep pink #ad6d78. looooves cockwarming, like literally you’re warming hiim up because his body temperature is…… quite freezy! tease, praise, degrading, all of it. dom but will sub if you edge him enough (grinding on his thigh, palming him, or just denying him of his orgasm plenty)

kazuha

he’s gentle, look me in the eyes and tell me this man could be rough with you. 5.9 inches, always making sure you’re okay before continuing. he loves hearing you moan his name, he manages to say yours as well between whimpers. you rarely have anywhere to do it other than the storage room in the crux, so sometimes you just gotta stay at the wangshu inn and pray nobody heard. no edging because he’s not mean but he does prepare you good, overstims you with permission. loves when you praise him, and he knows you love it when he praises you.

ok. scaramouche.

he is definitely a bratty sub. no words you speak can change my mind, he’s a slut. he’s so bratty until he’s in your mouth, whining, whimpering, gripping the sheets and tears forming in the corner of his eyes. he’s crying at how good it feels, how he wants to feel more of you, he’s barely able to form proper sentences after you just sucking him off, so now you wonder what he’d be like with him being deep inside you. he’s 7 inches, prety pink-beige tip as well (#f0b2a3). hairpulling is a yes. he just loves you so much, play with him some more and he bets his little puppet brain will turn into mush.

heizou!

pretty! i love the moles under his eyes aaaa…. he’s a nice size like kazuha, just a tad bit bigger (6.8), deeper pink, #d9626f. he loves teasing you so much, but he also loves being teased by you. when he’s not the dominant one he breathes heavily, some soft moans escape him. but when he is the dominant one, he’ll ensure he’s fucking you good. he’ll ask ‘does this feel nice?’ knowing it does by the way you’re almost crying on him.

tighnari!

submissive. 5.8 inches will probably bite his lip in attempt to shut himself up, but to no avail. loves when you bite his ears, they will twitch and it’s adorable. he’s just so cute. when he’s in a rut he’s so much louder. more whimpering and more of not knowing where the hell to put his hands. on your hips? your chest? your ass? fuck, he’s confused but he wants more, he wants to feel more of you. pretty light pink! #ff919e!

xiaoo

he’s inexperienced but he tries his best to be the dominant one, shaky breaths and moans escape his mouth. he tries to be gentle with you because, well, you’re a mortal and he’s an adeptus, you would be surprised how rough he can get. will make out with you while fucking you, and will happily let you sit on his face. he’s 7 inches, #e09e96. he cums super quick, 100% making sure to pull out (unless instructed to do otherwise)

ZHONGLI.

okay. he’s big. he’s a fucking archon, he’s 8 inches at LEASTT. yknow that pattern on his arm? yeah i like to think that’s on his dick too. tip is #d9b750, cause yk his arms.. he loves you, he wouldn’t want to hurt you but when you’re just begging him to be rough with you, to do whatever the hell he wants to you.. how could he resist? you’re the one asking him.. so.. he’ll let it slip this once. you don’t regret your words when the lower half of your body is hanging off of the bed, him manhandling you while the only thing you can do is bury your head into that pillow and let those pretty tears escape your eyes. he lets out literal feral moans and grunts, you think this is what he’s like when he goes into a rut, but.. ppfft, you underestimate him.

dottore my bbg

he’s probably like,, 7.4 inches? idk he looks big and i want him in me. doesn’t care for trimming himself, but does it anyway. the mask stays on. it only stays on because he doesn’t want you to see that blush on his face, he looks so vulnerable.. has you bent over on his desk to make sure you don’t see him bite his lip, he wants to be so much more vocal with you.. but he’d rather spare himself the embarrassment of letting you see that side of him. he doesn’t wanna give you something to tease him for; he’d rather be the one degrading and teasing you. oh, but trust me, when he’s submissive he can’t do shit. he tries to degrade you but that only leads to you slowing your hand down, moving your face away from his neck to stop kissing him. he chants the words ‘i’m sorry’ like a madman, so you decide to be nice and go a little faster, giving him a quick peck on the lips before he makes a mess of your hand.

pantalone

he’s pretty big as well, and he spoils you. buys you expensive toys just to make you cry. if you help him out in some way, he’ll be sure to reward you. lets you ride him, prefers you be in control. but once you’ve done it enough and he knows what you like, he’ll help you out. who would he be to deny? some sort of monster, that’s for sure. you’re perfect to him, following him around because you don’t know where you’re going. maybe if you tease him a little during a meeting with the other harbingers he’ll get rough with you afterward. that normal smile replaced by a smug look at how easily he can put you in your place.. he’ll never get enough of you.

capitano

he’s giant. like, in height and his cock. you were intimidated the first time you fucked, but with enough lube it ended up working out and you did not regret it. he was rough, your brain was dumbed down to putty, and the only thing running through it was just capitano.. the mask did stay on, yes.. but, he was still hot. maybe the next time you’d make him take it off. and you did. you saw his pretty eyes, his soft looking lips and the whole of his straight, black hair. he was a pretty guy.. he and you were both louder because you could actually see each other. (he could see you but not all that well.)

dainsleif

he’s always so unsure, tense, nervous, stuttering and just hot (temperature wise.) oh, but once you grind against him he immediately cums. he was embarrassed at how he just came in his pants because of you. he tries hiding his face but that didn’t work, you just grabbed his chin and looked him in the eye. his face was red.. he’s just too cute! all flustered, all messy and embarrassed.. all because of you. 6.8 inches, it’s def pink and i give up on hex codes.

[pillowspace]

I just randomly was scrolling through my feed and saw something about you being a songwriter?

If this is true, do you have advice for writing original songs?

Thank you and have a good day

-Q

I've been songwriting since I was 2 years old, so I'll try my best to explain, but I've never put it into words before. Nor do I know if this is good advice, but!! This is how I do it

An app I use for songwriting is Lyric Notepad, but if you just want to use a website for finding rhyming words, that can work too. So: if you don't know what you want the next line to be and you're stuck, it's good to check what would rhyme with the previous line. I've found that just seeing these stray words can give me ideas for what the entire section could be

Don't force it if you're not in the mood! I've had to scrap entire songs because I pushed myself past a limit, and the quality significantly suffered for it. Only songwrite if you think you can

If you come up with a stray tune or line that you think sounds good but you don't know how to progress past it, record it or write it down somewhere and just leave it for later. Then when you're next writing a song and you don't know how to progress, you can add in that tune/line if it's fitting to the song you're writing. Like a... recycle bin

Sometimes I stop singing the lines to myself while writing, and pretty much just start writing flat poetry that doesn't actually have a flow of any sort. Um. Avoid that. Make sure there's an actual tune to what you're doing <//3

I've found that my best songs come from me recording myself humming random notes rather than just diving straight into the words. If I think something I hummed sounded very good, I then write down a bunch of placeholder words for the tune (it can be literal nonsense, just whatever makes you remember the syllable count.) After that, I go over it with actual lyrics. I only sometimes do this method, but it usually goes well

If you songwrite a lot, you'll start to pick up on what phrases and words you like, making things easier and easier. There's no shame in taking a little bit of inspiration from your surroundings. For example, I seem to often write the words "debris," "rotten," etc.

You can set a theme for yourself at the start of a song! My most recently written song had the theme of "ballroom yandere," my song before that was "touch-starved vampire," uhhh a song of mine that I love but haven't ever posted was "someone meeting a faery who tries to learn how to love the singer." You can get fun with it. Don't worry if you stray away from the theme, my "person who's distraught by their enemy apologizing to them" song quickly turned into "enemies who care about each other somber in the aftermath of a battle"

You can study how the lyrics of other songs are structured. Like verses, chorus, etc. You don't have to follow this too closely though if you don't want to

Uhhh!! I'm not sure if I have anything else to say

[whumpshaped]

Hope you're okay my friend. Sending virtual hugs 🫂

Uhhh... prompts... I've been thinking about a whumpee leaving the team because they felt unwanted, and the team was frantically looking for them.

That's the vibe I've been having the past several days.

-- @whumperofworlds

tw feelings of worthlessness, self-blame, suicidal ideation, perceived abandonment

Whumpee pulled their blanket tighter around their body, clinging to the idea of comfort and the minimal heat it had trapped. They didn't have their room now, with the central heating and the proper bed. All they had was some moss under their head and a thin blanket full of tears and holes. It was at least better than the awful feeling of being out of place.

They tried not to think about the team. About how relieved they must've felt when they woke up to them being gone. No tough conversations, no tears, no guilt. If nothing else, maybe they were at least a little grateful that Whumpee had picked up on being a bother and took the initiative to remedy it.

But what else were they supposed to think about? They had no one and nothing else. The team had been their family and friends in one package, so to speak. Their job wasn't a very important one, but it was the only one they'd ever had. They didn't know what to do. Their food was running out. They didn't want to make more work for the team from the outside by getting into crime, they really didn't, but sometimes the possibility popped into their head.

Maybe they should just go deeper into the woods and starve. Or do something more proactive. Maybe that would be the best path forward.

They lifted their head to stare into the darkness of the forest, with its many critters and mysteries. Would the trees be upset for having to bear the rope and their body? Would the creek be disgusted knowing its water was in their lungs? Would the animals keep their distance? Would the fungi refuse to touch their body?

Whumpee lay back down, empty eyes staring into nothingness. At least they had done the right thing. Whatever happened to them now mattered very little. They had made the right choice, and they were happy with it.

-

"Whumpee!"

They jolted awake and listened intently, heart pounding. It was still the middle of the night, and they could see flashlights in the distance. They quickly scurried behind the tree, covering their mouth with both hands.

"Whumpee, are you here?"

They frowned in confusion. That sounded like one of their teammates.

"Whumpee, please answer if you can hear me!"

They slowly lowered their hands. The voices — because there were multiple, multiple familiar voices — were getting closer, as were the lights. Were they actually supposed to reveal themself?

Or were they hoping for a body?

"There! Do you see that? Isn't that their backpack?" Whumpee heard their teammate running towards their hiding spot, and they froze up completely. "Whumpee! Whumpee, are you–" They rounded the tree, accidentally pointing the flashlight straight at their eyes. "Oh, fuck, oh my god– Whumpee!" They threw the wretched thing away and dropped to their knees, pulling Whumpee into a tight hug.

"Did you find them?" More footsteps, more yelling. More hugs. More tears. Whumpee didn't understand any of it.

"We were looking for you everywhere," their teammate whispered. "For days. Every day and every night– I can't believe– I thought you might be–"

"Don't," another said quietly. "They're safe. None of us has to worry about that anymore."

"Why did you leave?" Whumpee didn't even know how to aswer that now. Their reasoning seemed ridiculous.

"I... I thought... I thought you didn't want me there," they admitted sheepishly. They sounded so unbearably confused, and their team looked just as baffled.

Everyone started talking at once. Scolding them, correcting them, enthusiastically disagreeing with them– Whumpee teared up a little, and that finally made their leader step up and tell everyone to be quiet.

"I... must admit, I don't know how you've arrived to that conclusion, Whumpee. But I'm incredibly heartbroken that you have." They knelt down as well, gently taking Whumpee's hand in their own. "I think I'm speaking for everyone when I say I'm sorry for making you feel that way. And I'm so sorry that I somehow didn't even notice. I should've. And I should've told you way sooner just how important you are to me. I should've told you that way more often. I never should've let you forget or think otherwise."

Whumpee looked around, and they could only see the others nodding along. No one seemed to disagree at all. Some of the others had tears in their eyes as well, and Whumpee wanted to disappear. They'd caused all this pain...

"We would all be very happy if you came back home," they continued softly. "We all love you a lot, Whumpee. And– and if you gave us another chance, I'm sure we'd find a way to make it up to you."

~

general drabbles taglist: @ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @rosewriteswhump @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night

[chameliyun]

For the ship bingo:

Lawlight, Lawmane, L x BB, L x Naomi

(apologies for my awful coloring lol)

putting this under a read more because there's four of them

Lawlight:

They really are basically canon. I like them in all kinds of flavors: tragic/following canon, redemption aus (within reason; not ooc), crack, sexual tension, character study, etc. Thematically they make a lot of sense, and sure you could just leave it as geniuses competing, but where's the fun in that? Make them even more obsessed with each other. I probably wouldn't like them as much if L wasn't my favorite character (because I love to hate Light), but since they're Death Note's most popular ship, I know I can always find thoughtfully written, gripping fics about them. One of my favorites involves L as a vampire and Light being reincarnated throughout several generations, ending as Kira.

Lawmane:

Lawmane...my beloved...these two make me go crazy and it's partially your fault <3 I kinda started reading them as a crack ship and then suddenly they became my favorite dn ship. There are so many potential paths for them, especially when you really dig into Misa's character and her intelligence. And I equally love the unrealistically fluffy stuff where touch-starved L gets fawned over (you cannot convince me he was unaffected by that cheek kiss) and the more realistic ones where they're both fucked up and manipulative in different ways. Plus anything in between, like your fic where L is the detective who searches for Misa's parents' killer (one of the best lawmane fics on ao3 imo), or where they both end up messing with Light because as I said, I love to hate him. (Also kinda tangential but for some reason I don't really ship L/Light/Misa as a throuple. I think it's mainly because I don't like Light and Misa together in any circumstance.)

L x BB:

Uhhh not gonna lie I don't really think about these two much. I can definitely see it as a possibility but I don't think L would be interested in BB. It'd be very one-sided if it ever happened. It's one of those ones where I could maybe be convinced to like it, but I have next to no opinion on it lol (also the "fated enemies" part is just BB projecting, L doesn't care XD)

L x Naomi:

Another one I'm not super into, sorry. Again, could be convinced to like it in specific scenarios, but I really just see them as friends. I wish they could have met more than very briefly at the end of LABB, because they would have been an absolute powerhouse together in detective work.

[mer-acle]

@theturretmarshmallow

Pt 2 bc I'm a dumbass

5. Mental Heath (Pt.1): This is the more general one. I totally see Athena as someone who has emotions, but misinterprets them as thoughts. Overthinks to hell (which is why she's such a mess in the Wisdom Saga. Nobody ever taught her that thoughts are not neutral and some of them are harmful if engaged too much.) She appears very sure and confident, and she is, she genuinely believes in her abilities, but it's all bare minimum stuff to her. She needs to try her best, she has no excuse not to, and for her there's no justification for understanding a feeling and then still acting on it (for herself, mind you. She has unrealistic standards for everyone, but for herself it's honestly subhuman levels of inwardly directed cruelty)

6. Mental Health (Pt. 2. TW! Selfharm/Selfdestructive behavior): That's why I split it, please skip this point if you don't wanna read, but for me personally I can't see her without self-harming tendencies as a coping mechanism (yep. projecting. writing is easier than therapy okay) I think it's probably super quick to heal for gods, and she justifies it with that, that there's no lasting harm done. I have this extended hc that Apollo has the ability to see every injury a god has sustained, even when there are no scars, and who has caused the injury and he finds out that way. I don't think she would engage in anything that takes away her control of the situation, so no substances, but she's still really struggling.

7. Daddy Issues: Are we surprised? I think Athena actually has the worst ones of the siblings bc she loves Zeus so much, no matter how much harm he does. She knows he fears the fate she might have had and that he'll never love her unconditionally, and he's taken away everyone she's been close to (Metis, Pallas, then Prometheus, almost Odysseus, too) but she's making excuses in her mind, and she'll always come back to him in the end unless her siblings reaaallly step up their game (depends on the story obv). Zeus really is the root of her control issues, I believe.

8. Touch-Starved: Explanation probably unneeded. The only person since Pallas who touches her that she doesn't shut down is Zeus, and he gives and withholds it on HIS terms (even if he isn't regularly violent, it depends on the story for me). Atp it's turned from mild aversion to outright fear.

aaannd yeah I think that's that for now, I hope that... uhhh... helps lol

i know i should not ask this but, what are your Athena ig wump headcannons :3 dont worry i have alot of time on my hands

okay okay okay

I think I'm gonna make this mainly trauma/whump potential themed. Like think, how do you break the owl? lol

Pain: I don't see Athena as scared of pain in general. She wouldn't mind being nicked in battle or something (she would bc of pride and being told she has to be perfect, but not the pain) I am willing to bet she's cut herself out of curiosity of what it feels like. Now if there's pain on top of other stuff, that's when she starts to fall apart. She's not used to dealing with physical pain, and if she's otherwise compromised (read: God Games) it becomes a problem.

Breathing: That's more of a general god hc I decided for whump purposes. The gods do have a breathing reflex and while they don't die from lack of oxygen + don't have negative effects if they actively choose not to breathe (like underwater), but like... yes gods can hyperventilate... or have trouble breathing... do with that what you will (like i do, I reaaaallly do stuff with this factoid)

Water: It's a winged!Athena specific one for me, but could be applied to any version. Athena's not a fan of water in general and afraid of being fully submerged in particular. She got somewhat used to it after a while living with Triton, but since Pallas' death, it's gotten worse and she hasn't really been in the water since. (This all came to be bc I found out that owls are actually terrible swimmers bc their wings aren't waterproof so they just have to get to shore to dry off... and wings weighed down by water sounds pretty scary

Control: Kinda vague, but shapes my entire approach to her. Athena is all about control. Anything that messes with that is BAD. Fever? An injury that you can't just push your way past? Drugs, medical or otherwise? She would literally rather be in excruciating pain. Like... if she's mentally not well, having shaky hands or dropping something might already be cause for a negative spiral it's that bad. Speaking of...

Mental health (Pt. 1) (to be continued)

Ah I posted accidentally okay wait I'll make a part 2 and link it 😖

[its-kall-the-clown]

I like to think Huntsman eventually comes around to the idea of a nest.

[chengsandagan111]

Cuddles

-

SUMMARY: Someone is not used with this kind of affection and that is the Great Kartein. One must respect his personal space and- oh god, don't touch him! Get your filthy hands off of him right this instant! Oh no... He is not ammused at all, now he is going to destroy you!

-

Kartein has been transforming into a cat back and forth to being a human more often. He does it to get more used to this kind of "talent" he learned from Kayden. The children constantly comes and goes whenever they want and it won't be good if they see him in his human form. Not like he is a criminal in hiding but he doesn't feel like conversing with these kids. They are just pure annoyance and major headache.

"Let's order cheesy rose tteokbokki." Subin said smilingly while taking off her shoes, followed by Wooin then Jisuk.

"Why don't you order yourself using your account?" Jisuk nonchalantly replied which followed by Subin's punch on his head.

Haaahhhh.. These annoying kids, really...

The kitty Kartein sighed in pure disappointment as he walked up and "recharge" himself inside the carton box at the stairway. Jiwoo finally walked into the house and took off his shoes. He was holding his bag real tight.

What in the world did he bring this time...?

Right after the thought, Jiwoo beamed at Kartein on his way to the living room then onto the rest of the cats.

"Hi, guys! I brought you something!" He called and wave the treats he just bought on their way home.

"Oh, right. I'll save these for later. I'll feed you your meals, instead." Jiwoo added, putting his school bag down the single seater-sofa.

Wait, no.. What flavors are those?

The bright kid went to the kitchen. Casein Nitrate wanted to follow Jiwoo but he was interrupted by the constant meowing and rubbing of the house cats. They are now all over him which he couldn't just shoo away. The chunky cat glanced up at Kartein. He must have been calling him by eye contact.

No, I'd rather wait here until the meal is served...

Kartein continued to observe the kids in full chaos. When will they ever learn to be prim and proper when they are in someone's house? Such disrespect.

"Just order it!!! I told you, I don't have anything on me today!" Subin screamed as she smashed the throw pillow on Jisuk's face.

"Heh. Not my problem." Jisuk teasingly replied and kicked her to the edge of the sofa.

"Uhhh, hey, aren't you hungry?" Jiwoo calmly asked pertaining to Kartein. He was holding Kartein's food bowl and for Peanut and also for Oreo.

"I am starving!!! I could totally eat a person right now but I'm fucking allergic to this guy!!!" Subin screamed angrily and continued to punch Jisuk in the face.

"Uhh, heh.. I was talking to Ka-- to cat! To the cat! I mean!" Jiwoo replied in horror. Shoot! That was close! He nearly called Kartein by his name while the healer is in his cat form! Good thing is that Subin and Jisuk was busy with their daily activity- the non-sense argument, so they didn't heard Jiwoo.

In return, Kartein gave him a death glare as he walked down the stairs.

I'm sorry, Mr. Kartein!!!

Jiwoo secretly closed his eyes real hard in shame also for Kartein to realize that he's sorry. He gently put the fancy food bowl near Casein Nitrate's and started eating.

Wooin was still there too, standing and watching the cats, so in order for Jiwoo to not get suspicious, Kartein faced his food bowl and slighly growled which surprised Casein Nitrate and looked at him for a brief moment then continued eating along with the house cats.

"I want jajjangmyeon..." Wooin quietly suggested to end the argument of the two.

The chaotic duo stopped their wrestlemania and heard him.

"Ugh! Again?!" Subin asked in annoyance. Crossing her arms on her chest in defeat. Her cravings for cheesy rose tteokbokki has been put aside. If only she didn't forgot her phone and brought it so she could just order her own food instead.

"I guess that's what we're gonna eat today! I'll prepare the drinks." Jiwoo happily offered and went back to the kitchen.

The house cats were done eating, so as Kartein. They are now doing their after-meal grooming. Casein Nitrate remained faithful to his food. He's dedicated to empty his bowl today. The food was really good this time because it was mackerel flavor.

While Kartein didn't finished his because he's gonna come back for it later. Now, time for after-meal preparation. It's self-grooming time. He decided to jump onto the sofa and started to clean his paws 

Kartein was really busy doing his own thing which led  Subin to annoy the hell out of him. The girl walked up to him and sat on the floor, near Kartein's spot.

What's her problem this time...?!

Kartein hissed at Subin then continued to groom himself. Not letting his guard down.

"Whoa, chill out, dude. I'm not gonna touch you!" Subin told him. But the look on her face tells you the otherwise.

Few moments later, the girl just couldn't get ahold of herself. Subin gently scooped Kartein with her bare hands. Forming him into a crescent and slowly placed his tiny body onto her lap.

He's not done grooming himself yet and Subin could tell he still smells like fish but that was okay... for her.

Kartein hissed and growled again. Not being too aggressive but he's not moving nor flailing.

"Oh, shhh.. Shhhh.. Shhhh.. Come on, just a little cuddle! You're so small! So tiny! You need a little shower of love so you could grow!" Subin said in a placating tone and started gently scratching kitty Kartein's tiny forehead.

Get your filthy hands off of me, young lady!

He continued to growl really low. Kartein was growling and hissing but wasn't taking any steps away from her. His eyes were dilated and he was just constantly licking his nose as a clear warning.

"Heh. Look at you, doing the airplane ears! Weeeeee~ Heehee. So cute! Aren't you cute? Yes, you are! Don't be mad!" Subin continued while touching and playing the tip of Kartein's ear then goes back at scratching his forehead.

And, finally! Casein Nitrate cleaned up his food bowl. He glanced around the living room and got surprised a little bit for a new sight.

Kartein? Likes to cuddle...? Heh.. That's new...

Casein Nitrate jumped onto the sofa right across Kartein and Subin then started grooming himself regally. He was staring at Kartein... MOCKINGLY! WHILE GROOMING HIMSELF!

Why is he staring at me like that?! I could tell this guy is mocking me! I could totally tell it, Kayden! You bastard!

Casein Nitrate wasn't even finished grooming his right paw when Jisuk suddenly kneeled and offered him three pieces of delicious cat treats. Jisuk's head was low, the treats were perfectly resting on his palms, waiting for Casein Nitrate's acceptance. Jisuk was like a real servant.

Kartein was still on Subin's lap. Unable to groom himself and he don't understand what was stopping him from doing so! He was purring, it was warm but Subin is annoying to be with. Casein Nitrate took one treat and looked again at Kartein.

He is clearly mocking me! How in the world did he teach that kid to act such humbleness in front of him, which is the exact opposite as this girl's doing?! Is that another secret technique?!

"Heh. You look like a stupid fool on that part. Like~ a~ lowly~ servant~." Subin teased Jisuk, who was facing the chunky cat faithfully.

"Shut up. You don't know anything." Jisuk quietly replied and squeezed the treat carefully to Casein Nitrate's mouth. Like, he's gonna beheaded in just one wrong move.

"Looks good on you, though. To look so fucking stupid! HAH!!!" Subin replied followed with a victorious evil laugh. She was so happy that she subconsciously started tapping Kartein's hind legs repeatedly. As if she was just tapping the table in pure entertainment.

That's it, young lady! You're done for!

Kartein growled and bit Subin's hand. It wasn't that deep or bleeding, but it left a shallow bitemark. Kartein hissed and walked out on her. He's fed up with these kids, really. He's really sick of it. He needs to recharge. Now!

"Ow! Oh god, Jiwooo!! Skinny just bit my hand!" Subin cried for help. She wasn't crying but was really astounded.

"Oh no! I- I'm sorry! Come here and wash your hands, I'll go get the first aid kit!" Jiwoo offered.

"HAH! Looks good on you, though. Looking so fucking stupid! HAH! Hahahahaha!!!" Jisuk laughingly mimicked Subin as she walked to the kitchen.

"You are so dead to me later, Yoo Jisuk!!!" Subin replied angrily and started washing her hands.

-

A/N: Heyaaa!! Another ELECEED fanfic again for your eyes only! This time, with the Jiwoo Protection Squad and the furry bebbys. I really wanted to make this a Kartein-centered story but I just couldn't left the other characters behind so I tried giving them a little appearance in here. SPOILER ALERT! I've seen kitty Kartein being cuddled by Subin in the latest paid chapters, so I wanted to give it a try. This story somewhat sets in right after Kartein learning the cat transformation and before turning into being a lap kitty when the kids were going back to Korean Awakeners Academy (I just couldn't remember the specific chapter though!) Anyway, thank you for reading! <3

[moonlight-prose]

Lover’s Sighs

A/N: Self indulgent fics? Me? Yeah. I’ve had a hard as fuck week so I wrote this quickly to help. Not beta read or edited, just a shit ton of personal feelings in here.

I’m not tagging anyone either for this.

Summary: You wanted to escape time, and maybe he’d join you in that adventure.

Word Count: 1k

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: uhhh, angst, depression, touch starved, sadness i guess. let me know if I missed anything.

    It’s painful to want to be touched with having no one to touch you. The ache that continues to grow in your chest until it feels like there’s a knife there; until you’re waiting for it to be removed. But then it stays. Stuck in place, because you can’t do it yourself, and suddenly the pain isn’t so painful anymore. It’s just become another persistent weight you carry on your shoulders. A reminder that the knife is still there, buried until the hilt has disappeared into your chest, with no way to rid yourself of it.

    The ache soon becomes a friend. Toxic, brutal, and everything you hated. But at least it’s a friend. It was the only constant in your life of loneliness.

    So, you find yourself lying in bed, wondering if there was someone there, if a person could come find you, would they help to get rid of that knife? Would they finally touch you? It was a possibility that he knew, because the creak on the door echoed in the room, followed by footsteps that were trying to remain soft. Except even with your eyes closed you felt him there, watching as you continued to lay there. Wallowing was too simple of a term, because one had to feel something other than that bothersome ache to wallow.

    You were just there. Unable to cry, to feel pain, just there. The rest of the world could go on around you; the wildlife could grow on the building to create cracks in the walls. And you’d still be there. Unable to process that time was indeed an entity that had it out for you.

    “You don’t have to stand there quietly,” you said, keeping your eyes closed. Maybe it helped to not see how much time had gone by since you collapsed onto the unmade bed. Complete darkness. An easier feat than actually trying to be a person.

    “I don’t want to disturb you.”

    Ever the protector.

    “Bucky I’m fine.” A lie, but you’d said it so much in your life that it had become the only answer you could give easily. If you said anymore, uttered one more explanation you knew that whatever was holding itself by a thin strand in you would crack.

    “You’ve been here for awhile.” He shuffled closer, a warm hand resting on your ankle.

    Had you? At this point you couldn’t tell what day it was in the year. Monday? Friday? Was it January or December? Or sometime in between. The days, months, years, they all blended together until it became one infinite line of just time. You supposed scientists were right when they said it was a fickle thing. The uncertainty of it all, the anxiety of what would happen when. Time became the thing you wished to avoid.

    “What can I do to help?” he asked, thumb rubbing gently into your calf.

    What could he do but watch as you deteriorated into the bedsheets? Except he understood the pain, the ache, the need to be touched by a person. Desperate in it’s own right. So, you opened your eyes, seeing the worry clouded in his, and knew that he couldn’t pull out the knife, because it had lodged itself too deep. But he could relieve the weight of it. Could help to push it away instead of wedge it further beneath your skin.

    “Come here please,” you whispered, holding out your arms.

    Five seconds was all it took for him to climb over you, pushing you up into his chest, but that’s not what you wanted. You needed him to cover you, to become the blanket that would protect you from any of the bad. Wrapping an arm around his shoulders you shoved him down, feeling the resistance for a second.

    “I don’t want to crush you doll.”

    “Please.” You barely said it, the words sounding more like a pitiful whimper than anything else, but he heard you, and if at all possible you heard the snap of his heart. Heard the pieces completely render themselves useless, because he didn’t know how to help you.

    Your protector, now unable to keep you safe from whatever demons ate away inside. He gave into your plea, collapsing onto you softly and pushing some air out of your lungs. And it was everything. The weight of his warmth, pressing into your body, seeping into your bones until it encompassed you completely. Escaping time had no longer become a worry, because if it was with him, you’d be happy to partake in such an action. Continue to lie here until even the wildflowers grew over your bodies, because it was safe.

    “Thank you,” you breathed against his skin, burying your face into his shoulder.

    He smiled against your skin, the wet feeling of a tear hitting your skin when he realized that this was all he needed to do. Touch you until you could finally after so long, ignore the ache. Until it began to diminish altogether, because he pushed it away. Wrapping your legs around him, you felt your breath slow, the rate of your heart lower, until the silence began to envelop the room.

    “For what?”

    You pressed a kiss to his neck, hands tangling lightly in his hair and feeling the shiver go down his spine. “For protecting me.”

    “You don’t have to thank me for that.” His arms slipped underneath your body. “I’m happy to do it.”

    “Because you love me?” It was a stupid question to ask when you already knew the answer, but it brought a different kind of warmth to your body.

    He smiled. “Because I love you.”

    Perhaps he’d stay there, keeping himself in place until you felt a semblance of hope, of feeling whole again. Remain over you, because he knew that you needed it. You needed to feel like you were wanted, like you were a person again, like you weren’t alone. He’d stay, despite that fickle entity. Losing time with you until the earth itself embraced the both of you.

Masterlist

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Melted Mask

awitchbravestheverge prompt: I don't know if you're still taking prompts but you are a master of hurt/comfort and would sell you my soul for some of that for Janus. Maybe where he's feeling insecure or like he's worn out his welcome post acceptance, or maybe a little touch starved, or both. Preferably with Virgil or Patton as the comforter, but if not thats ok. I just have a never-ending need for fic where people are soft and gentle with the snake boy, and I love everything you write with my whole heart

Thanks for the request, babe!

Read on Ao3

Pairings: DLAMPR, focus on anxceit and moceit, can be platonic or romantic you decide I don’t mind

Warnings: uhhh sympathetic deceit and remus

Word Count: 4804

 “How many masks of your own face are you currently wearing?”

 “At least four.”

Between the gloves, the cape, and the hat, there’s not an awful lot of Janus that is seen most of the time. Not that he particularly minds. There is a certain benefit that layers upon layers of clothing provides. One, they’re perfect for concealing his cane—the others always look so surprised when he summons it from nowhere. Two, he is Dark Side, thanks to Roman’s fantastic naming system. There is an aesthetic standard that must be met. What was he going to do, show up in some ratted old hoodie?

 Three, well—there is an awful lot to look at. If the others are focused on the clasps at his throat, the shock of the yellow gloves, the logo hidden under the black fabric, they’re not looking at him.

 If they were, they’d see his scales.

 He is the only side with a visible animal trait, after all. The scales cover the left side of his face, down beneath his collar. He doesn’t mind the stares—come on, it’s so easy to catch them off guard, how could he?—but sometimes he does wonder if they’ll ever get used to it.

  To him.

 The scales are a reminder. That he’s different. That he’s not like them. He’s not like the others, he doesn’t look like Thomas, at least not to the extent that they do. Thomas doesn’t have golden scales along the side of his face. Thomas doesn’t have a mouth that curves up along his cheek. Thomas doesn’t have a slit-eye pupil. No, no, Thomas is normal.

 How dreadful.

 Then, of course, there are the lies.

 ‘Deceit.’ Such a funny word. And so…polarizing.

 ‘Deceitful,’ ‘dishonest,’ ‘dastardly’—lot of ‘d’s, here, hmm?—all of the words that just mean he’s a liar. And lying must be bad, right? So it follows logically then, because we simply adore logic in this house, that he must be bad.

 He’s not to be trusted, he’s a liar. He’s not honest, he’s a liar. They have to double and triple-check everything he says because he’s a liar.

 They always conveniently seem to forget that you can always trust a dishonest person to be dishonest. It’s the truthful ones you have to watch out for.

 Janus knows he’s a liar. Frankly, he’s quite proud of it. He’s gotten very good at it too; twisting the words together just right in order to tug slightly at a heartstring there, block off just a little rationality there, get the job done. The others always get caught up in his words, too busy focusing on the minutia of it, the details, leaving him free to step around them and speak to Thomas.

 They see the gloves, they see the scales, they see the lies.

 They see the masks.

 Oh, sometimes he’ll put on a little bit more of a show if he needs to make a point, if the normal masks aren’t quite enough to get Thomas to listen. He’ll tie a hoodie around his shoulders, push a pair of glasses up his nose, knot a tie around his neck. Problem is…those ones are a little easier to see through. No matter how hard he tries, all of his disguises end up being a self-portrait.

 Which is how he ended up here.

 “You know the rules,” Patton says, his hands on his hips, “no impersonating others outside of filming!”

 Janus rolls his eyes and idly flicks a speck of dirt off one of his gloves. “Oh, please. You don’t want me to do it during filming either.”

 “No, I don’t, but we made a compromise, kiddo, now we both have to stick to it.”

 Janus raises an eyebrow. “Yes, I’m sure the others will be relieved to hear so.”

 “What have we said about impersonations?”

 He sighs. “The others may be idiots—“

 “Oi!”

 “—but idiots are also deserving of respect,” Janus finishes, glancing at Virgil draped over the back of the couch. “And I would never dream of being anything less than perfectly respectful.”

 Virgil snorts. “What do you even get out of it anyway?” He sits up a little straighter. “Wait, you haven’t been tricking Roman into telling you how to impersonate us better, have you?”

 “Now why would I do that?”

 “Janus!”

 “What? Like you don’t make a habit of going to the others for advice.”

 “There’s a difference between openly asking for it and tricking them into giving it to you.”

 Janus levels a stare at him. “I suppose there is, isn’t there?”

 “Hey!” Patton steps between them. “That’s enough.”

 “Oh, well—“ Janus makes a show of resettling his cape—“if you say so.”

 Patton sighs. “Janus, we are trying, okay? You heard Thomas, you’re…well, you’re more welcome now.”

 “And you’re doing a marvelous job of that.”

 Patton doesn’t quite deflate, but it’s close. “Well, maybe we could all try a little harder.” He gives Janus a pointed look.

 “Yes, I’m sure my efforts will be richly rewarded.”

 “Well, you could start by showing up as yourself more often.”

 “Myself?” Janus gasps theatrically, putting a gloved hand to his scales. “Who’s that?”

 “Dude,” Virgil sniggers—Virgil did always appreciate his sense of humor—“how many masks of your own face are you currently wearing”

 “At least four.”

 Patton lets him go with another verbal slap on the wrist and Virgil flips him off. Janus sinks out, striding down the hallway near his room. It’s quieter here. The walls hum a little less. He can think.

 He hadn’t gone to Roman to gets tips on his acting. He’d gone because Roman doesn’t want to talk to Janus.

 Janus, the liar. Janus, the manipulator. Janus, the Dark Side.

 Janus shuts the door of his room and instinctively slumps, the cape hanging off his shoulders. He knows Patton means well, and Virgil’s…Virgil, but sometimes it stings a little more than it should. Not that the others will ever see it.

 He’ll never forget the look on Thomas’s face when Logan said he was the side that acts with the one priority of self-preservation. Of how it instantly demonized the idea of protecting yourself. Of Thomas keeping himself safe.

 He looks at his hands, sees the gloves. They still don’t fit quite right, even after all these years. He can’t get the seams to run down the sides of the fingers, not curve around to the front or the back. It really shouldn’t be this difficult. Especially considering how much use he’s gotten out of them.

 Lying kept Thomas alive. It kept him safe. He helped keep Thomas safe. When Virgil couldn’t breathe, when Logan faltered, when Patton froze, Janus would quietly make his way over to Roman and whisper a suggestion. Just a suggestion. To lie. To keep Thomas safe. To get them out of here. And it saved them. So many times.

 Janus walks over to the mirror. It’s a fairly modest thing; about the size of a small sink, oval, large enough so he can see himself completely if he takes a few steps back. He ignores his own face and reaches for the golden latch on the side. He turns it.

 The cabinet swings open to reveal a dark velvet interior with several small podiums. Each has a thin mask laid atop it. They gleam in the low light of the room. Janus reaches out and carefully makes sure each is perfectly centered. As he does so, his gloves linger on the fine print beneath the podiums.

 Everyone has masks. Versions of themselves to present to the world when they need to. A mask that keeps you safe, a mask that keeps you alive, a mask that has the courage to speak when you don’t. The mask they wear around their homophobic relatives, the mask they wear when they need to make a phone call, the mask they wear when they need to pretend they’re something they’re not.

 Janus is very, very good at making masks.

 He never wears these. These are for Thomas. When Thomas needs help, Janus slips one of these out of the cabinet and sets it on the desk in front of the mirror. He looks at it, then at the mirror, and works. These masks are what helps Thomas.

 He shuts the cabinet with a decisive click, suddenly confronted with his own face.

Janus is so good at making masks that he doesn’t even need a mask to wear one.

 A mask because you’re the bad guy. A mask because you can never be trusted. A mask because when you try to be vulnerable they won’t listen. A mask because they don’t want you, they want the character that you embody to survive.

 He pities the others sometimes. They don’t have these masks and they hurt. They can’t distance themselves, pull away just a little more, embody a role so that when it’s over, when they’re safe again, they can take it off and breathe. But they don’t. So they just get hurt. Over and over and over.

 Janus’s lips involuntarily curl up into a snarl. The hand on the mirror closes into a fist.

 They’re not supposed to get hurt. That’s not how this is supposed to work.

 He’s not supposed to hurt them.

 Part of him argues that he has to. If he keeps working the way he’s been working he can get right to Thomas, who is who needs the most protection. If he tries to do it their way they risk Thomas getting hurt and Janus won’t have that.

 Part of him whispers that this is good for them. If he can make them a little tougher, help them get thicker skin, they’ll be safer. And then it won’t matter if they hate him. They’ll be safe. That’s all he cares about.

 The rest of him—

 …well, the rest of him is currently the reason he’s having trouble looking in the mirror right now.

 The problem with wearing so many masks is that it becomes harder and harder to figure what’s the mask and what’s not. And he’s gotten so good at making them that now…now he doesn’t have to think about it.

 A mask for when Logan asks to debate about philosophy. A mask for when Remus wants him to help him and Roman make something new. A mask for when Patton wants to bake. A mask for when Virgil comes to him for help.

 A mask for all of them. A mask for none of them.

 Janus doesn’t want to wear the masks all the time. He wants them to be warm, to care, to smile when he comes into the room, or even ask where he is. He wants to laugh as Patton smears batter all over his nose accidentally. He wants to listen to Logan ramble about some new advancement in quantum gravity. He wants Virgil to come plop down next to him while everyone else is in the living room. He wants Remus to stay with him while they watch the others get into ridiculous fights over board games. He wants Roman to not be afraid to come talk to him.

 He wants.

 Janus is selfish.

 But he isn’t stupid.

 He knows they don’t want him. He knows they don’t want him, even without the masks. Deep down, he knows they don’t need him either.

 But Thomas does.

 So here Janus will stay, in the dark, in the cold, wearing too many masks of his own face to keep count.

—————————————————————

The Mindscape is cold. It never quite feels solid. Drafts blow in and out of the walls, through the little gaps in the floor, from places that Janus can’t find, no matter how many times he looks for them. He bundles himself up in his cloak and his hat and does his best to hold still, sink in as much warmth as he can. He sneaks up behind the others, pressing himself up near them, purring in their ears, just to snatch their body heat. They always shove him away with flustered protests and blushy little faces. They’re so adorable.

 Plus, he knows that’s all he’s ever really going to get from them.

 But he’s cold, goddamnit. Why do they keep the air conditioning so high in this house? Snakes are cold-blooded. They get slow. Lethargic. Hypothermic, if it gets very bad.

 Janus can’t afford to be slow.

 So he wears his gloves, his cape, his hat. He stands opposite the window so he can get the most sunlight. He finds the patches of warmth where none of the others will find him and he can curl up for the warmth he needs...

 …and fine, maybe it’s a little more than just being cold.

 The others are…touchy. Patton throws his arm around just about everyone. Bumps his hip against theirs. Pats their shoulders, squeezes their hands, kisses their cheeks. Roman sweeps people into his arms, pulls them in for hugs, keeps an arm around their waists for as long as he’s allowed. Remus can and will just tackle whoever he wants. Logan holds himself a little further away, but even he’ll lay a comforting hand on someone’s arm. Janus will admit he was shocked when Virgil started exhibiting spider characteristics. That Side is a cat and you will not convince him otherwise. And everyone knows if a cat falls asleep on you, you’re not allowed to move until it wakes up.

 Not that Virgil has fallen asleep on him recently.

 Janus is not too proud to admit that at first, he didn’t want their touches. He had a job to do, he didn’t need to be distracted. But now…now he does.

 He sees the way they move around each other and it stings. The accidental brushes he gets from standing too close or when they aren’t thinking about it sear through layers and layers of clothing to burn into his skin. When he stays close to them—close, but not too close—his whole side begins to tingle, reaching for them, their warmth, for them. But now it’s too late. His mask is already firmly in place and they know Deceit hates being touched.

 That’s another reason for the layers. For the gloves.

 Janus knows that if they ever touch him directly, skin to skin, his mask will shatter. And that is too dangerous to risk. With his gloves, his cape, his hat, his masks, the only way that would happen is if one of them tried to touch his face.

 And that is certainly very likely indeed.

 The clothes give him a barrier. A last line of defense. No touch is better than unexpected touch.

 But that doesn’t stop him from being cold.

 He can tell it’s going to happen when he can’t quite close his fingers around the end of his staff in the middle of their conversation. His gloves don’t catch on the wood quite right and he has to fumble to grab it properly. He glances up. No one’s looking at him.

  Are they ever?

 He tucks his hands smoothly out of sight, frantically burrowing them into his cloak to see if they’ll warm up. He locks his knees. No good. His fingers start to hurt as he flexes them. They’re still not moving faster. It’s cold.

 He glances at the clock. Two minutes. He can last two minutes. Or so he thinks, until his jaw starts to clench. He clenches it harder, ignoring the protest from his neck, his shoulders, trying to make it stop. He takes a deep slow breath and tries to relax, to stop his muscles from tensing. It works, barely.

 One minute.

 His hands aren’t responding properly. He can barely move his fingers. He just needs to get out of here. If he gets out of here he can get warm. He has his electric blanket, he has everything he needs. He just needs to leave.

 Thirty seconds.

 The conversation draws to a close and Janus nods deeply, tossing one last barb over his shoulder as he sinks out, only to collapse in the hallway as soon as he does. A draft flows out right next to his shoulder, freezing fingers dancing up his arm, along the back of his neck, diving into his collar to snatch more of his warmth. He curses, heaves himself to his feet, and makes it to his room. It’s so cold.

 Something tugs in his chest. No, no—!

 “I suppose there must be a good reason for summoning me back,” Janus drawls, snapping his gloves right back into place as he appears in the living room.

 Patton and Virgil stare back at him. Patton fidgets with his hands. “W-well, we, uh, I had a question for you.”

 Damn. “Well.” Janus spreads his arms, trying to play off how slow he’s moving for dramatic effect. “I’m here. Ask away.”

 “I, uh, a few days ago you mentioned that you didn’t feel as welcome here.” Patton looks at him with such an expression of sincerity that it makes Janus’s tongue itch. “And I wanted to know what I could do to help.”

 “Aren’t you sweet?”

 Patton won’t be deterred, it seems. He stares at Janus, resolute as ever. It’s so cold in here he’s going to start slurring in a moment.

 “Janus?”

 “That is my name, yes.”

 “Are you…are you feeling alright?”

 Janus gestures to himself, movements growing slower by the second. “I’m right here, aren’t I?”

 Slow. Too slow.

 Patton frowns. He gives him a look. “You don’t seem like you normally are, are you sure?”

 “I am entirely in one piece.”

 “That doesn’t answer my question.”

 “Honey, if you’re looking for a straight answer, I’m afraid you’re looking in the wrong place.”

 Virgil moves. Right, Virgil was here too. Janus is slow. Too slow. He can’t move. He can’t get away. His mask forms a bored expression on his face, quirking an eyebrow. Virgil approaches him and holds out a hand. A cold part of Janus’s chest leaps.

 The lips of the mask part. “And what exactly do you intend to do with that?”

 “This,” Virgil mutters, and cups the side of Janus’s face.

 Everything stops.

 Distantly, he feels Virgil’s hand leave his face. Hears something about being too cold. Sees a blur of blue rush away. But all he can focus on is—

  Warm. Virgil touched you. Warm. Warm. So warm. Keep the mask on. Don’t let the mask slip. Warm. If the mask slips everything will be ruined. Warm. Don’t you remember how to take the mask off? Virgil. Patton. Warm.

 “Janus? Janus!”

 Janus blinks. Virgil is still standing in front of him. There’s a little wrinkle between his brows. The mask is frozen in place, iced into a neutral expression.

 “Hey,” Virgil says quietly, “you’re freezing, bud. You gotta get warm.”

 Janus can’t speak. The mask is so cold.

 “You remember what happens when you get too cold,” Virgil continues, taking a step closer. Janus can’t move. Virgil’s frown deepens and he tilts his head. “What’s going on, Janus, you don’t normally let it get this bad.”

  Yes, Virgil, we’re aware.

 “You could’ve asked, dude,” Virgil says, taking another step closer, a little exasperation mingling with the concern, “any of us.”

 The mask smirks. Barely. “Yes, because I’m sure everyone would be so willing to cuddle me so I could steal their body heat.”

 “You don’t know that.” The mask doesn’t move. Virgil glances over his shoulder. When he speaks next, his voice is lowered to a whisper.

 “You don’t have to keep that on right now, Jan,” he says quietly, “it’s okay. It’s just me. I know you. You can…you know. Emote and stuff.”

 Janus huffs a laugh. It’s weak. 

 “You ever wear a mask so long you forget how to take it off?”

 Vigil pauses. “Huh?”

 “Ever pretended to be something for so long you forget which is real and which isn’t?” Janus’s smile turns sad. “Made yourself believe it too?”

 Virgil’s eyes close for a second. When he opens them, the concern in his gaze takes the last of the warm breath from Janus’s lungs. “Does this have anything to do with…?” He waves in Janus’s direction.

 Janus nods, slowly, so slowly. “I can’t. Because I’ve been…I’ve been trained out of it. I built my masks to hide behind. And now I can’t take them off.”

 “And we haven’t been good about helping you do that, huh.” He sounds so tired. He’s been through so much…

 “I’m…”

 The mask won’t let him apologize.

  Like they would ever accept it.

 “No, no,” Virgil says, “don’t apologize. You aren’t to blame for what you’ve been put through.”

  Oh, Virgil…

 Virgil glances over his shoulder. Then he shakes his head. “Just…look, go.”

 “What?”

 “I know this isn’t the time to talk about stuff. You’re not in any sort of shape to do that and Patton will understand. Go get warm.” He gives Janus a pointed look. “You take care of yourself first, okay?”

 He tries. He goes back to his room and buries himself in blankets, in pillows, in more layers than he can stand. The pressure is good but it’s still so cold. The weight of the electric blanket is nothing compared to the warmth of Virgil’s hand. Everything in here smells sterile, clinical, detached. It’s all so cold.

  You take care of yourself.

 The last sentence rings through his head late at night. He wants. But everyone’s probably asleep by now, and god knows they need to sleep. Surely it’ll be alright if he just goes to the living room? That’s not too far, right?

 There’s a fire going in the fireplace—since when did they have a fireplace? And there’s someone sitting on the couch. Hmm. Maybe if…if he’s quiet, if he doesn’t make too much noise, he can slip in and soak up some of the warmth. 

 Virgil turns around.

 “Hey, Janus,” he murmurs, standing, and comes over to him. “Can’t sleep?”

 Janus shakes his head. It’s warm in here, but he’s still cold. Virgil can see that, apparently.

 “Here,” he says, handing him a cup of tea that appeared out of thin air, “drink. It’ll warm you up.”

 Janus takes it cautiously. Isn’t it Virgil’s? There’s no way Virgil would’ve know Janus was coming…right?

 “This is my third one, figure I should let you catch up first.”

 He gestures to the couch, an encouraging smile on his lips.

 “Sit. C’mon”

 Janus does, sinking into the plush couch and cradling the warm mug in his hands. The couch groans as Virgil sits next to him. He can feel Virgil just out of reach, just there…

 “I like watching the fire,” comes a low voice from next to him as he sips the tea. “Helps me think. Or stop thinking.”

 He keeps talking in that low voice and the warm tea flows through Janus, sapping the cold slowly away from his body.

 Distantly, he feels someone steering him down onto the couch, and heavy arms around him.

 “Or maybe you just need a cuddle. Go to sleep, Janus.”

—————————————————————

 “ — stop twitching, Remus! You’ll make a mistake!”

 “Stop tugging his arm all over the place and then you won’t.”

 “Will you two pipe the fuck down? You’re gonna wake him up.”

 “Says the loudmouth!”

 “Roman, stop it.”

 “Stop moving his arm!”

 What is…? He’s lying on something. It’s warm, really warm. It smells like…coffee, makeup, and…cinnamon? He shifts slightly, and oh he slept on his neck wrong. A low groan escapes his throat.

 His pillow stiffens. “Shit. He’s awake.”

 “Good going, Remus.”

 “You were the one yelling!”

 “Shut the fuck up, both of you.” The chest underneath him vibrates. “Shh, snake-face, go back to sleep. You’re alright. Go back to sleep.”

 Janus shifts again, trying to look around, but he’s held down by another strong arm. A hand cards itself through his hair—where’s his hat? “Shh, be still, buddy, you’re okay. Can’t we get you back to sleep?”

 “What…’s going on?” His tongue feels heavy, swelling up in his mouth.

 “I believe the chances of getting him back to sleep will increase if you tell him what you’re doing.”

 It’s…Logan? He appears, fuzzy but definitely there, over the back of the couch. Janus tries to turn to make it easier to see him but his right arm is pinned and he can’t move—

 “Easy, J, easy, shh, shh, you’re okay, you’re safe, just keep your arm nice and still, okay?” Virgil, it’s Virgil he’s lying on, runs his hand through his hair again. “I’m pretty sure Roman would pitch a fit.”

 “Hah.” Roman snorts from somewhere close to the ground. “If this got ruined, yours would be too.”

 “If you hadn’t insisted on going last,” Remus says, “this wouldn’t’ve been an issue.”

 And then he feels it. Something is drawn sharply across his right wrist.

 “Shh, shh, Janus, breathe, breathe, you’re okay, damnit, Princey, stop! You’re making him freak out!”

 It’s gone, the contact is gone. His arm is still hanging over the edge of the couch but it’s held there by Virgil’s arm and another hand.

 “Hey there, Snakey.” Remus appears over Virgil’s shoulder. “You’re okay. We’re just making sure you’re okay.”

 Roman snorts. “There’s something wrong with how you phrased that.”

 Then suddenly Patton appears out of nowhere and doesn’t surprise him at all. Luckily, or unluckily, Janus is far too exhausted and disoriented to react more than rucking up the fabric of Virgil’s hoodie a little. Patton looks at the couch.

 “There isn’t room, Pop-star,” Virgil says, lazily stretching so his bulk takes up all of it, moving slow enough so Janus isn’t jostled too much. Then Virgil yelps and their lower bodies are lifted and he can feel the couch sag under another body.

 “What the hell, Pat.”

 “Now there’s room.” Patton reaches up and ruffles Virgil’s hair.

 There are so many people and it’s warm but why are they all here? Did he miss something? Does he need to leave?

 “Looks good,” Patton says, interrupting his train of thought, “it’s coming along well.”

 Logan clears his throat. “Would someone like to inform Janus about what exactly ‘this’ is?”

 “Oh, right, sorry, Snakey,” Remus says, crouching back down, “let’s show you.”

 Virgil turns over slowly, lifting his arm and using the leverage to shift Janus onto his chest. “Jeez, Janus, you’re light. Patton, have we been feeding him enough?”

 “I suspect there’s been a lack of communication, kiddo.”

 “Now is not the time to yell at him, Patton,” Logan says quietly.

 “I’m not yelling! But yes, now is not the time.”

 Virgil coaxes his head to one side, and Roman lifts his arm by the back of his hand.

 Janus’s mouth drops open.

 There are little animals drawn on his right arm, from his wrist to his elbow. There’s a navy cat, simple and clean, near the vein. A light blue frog with little glasses. A purple and black spider. A green octopus with large black tentacles. And an unfinished red dragon right near his wrist.

 “If I could finish,” Roman asks softly.

 “Alright, calm down, here.” Remus lowers his arm and holds it steady. Roman puts the brush back to his arm and starts painting again. Virgil and Remus start arguing about something, probably, but he can’t focus on anything besides the soft bristles of the brush on his arm, the rumble of Virgil’s chest, and the warmth of the weight on his legs.

 Logan stands behind his head. “You don’t need to wear a mask here, Janus,” he says softly, “not unless you want to.”

 No one else hears him except for Patton. He gives Janus’s leg a squeeze.

 It’s warm. It’s so warm.

 He wants to watch as Roman paints the dragon but he’s tired but he doesn’t want to sleep yet…not just yet.

 Patton reaches towards his face. His finger lands on his forehead and drags gently down the bridge of his nose.

 What…?

 Oh.

 As he follows his touch, Janus’s eyes drift closed.

 It’s so warm.

 And a warm hand on his cheek wipes the last of the mask away.

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[queenoftheworldisdead]

Penthouse

Note: After events of Elevator. I love/hate this. loved starting, fucking hated finishing it. fucking nightmare. no tags, for this garbage. this hodgepodge of a story shows the weakness in my writing. ugh. 🙃 Don’t read this. i wrote this for my own entertainment. Long AF. so much preamble.

Summery: Freedom was sweet

⚠️Warning: 18+ Only content with dark themes, Kidnapping, Non Con/Dub Con, Cream-pie ⚠️

Dark Steve x Reader

🏢

You stood, back facing the multi level high rise with a banker box, filled with various items of your old life, in hand stunned. For the past few years you were held against your will by James 'Bucky' Barnes. The notorious mobster used you as his play thing, torturing, beating and occasionally starving you. Now you stood outside free.

"Hey!"

Your back tensed at the sound of the familiar right hand man of Bucky.

*It was a trap, of course.*

He wanted to see how far you would go this time, before he dragged you back to that damned penthouse.

"Never thought the day would come huh?" Steve laughed cheerfully.

You looked at him wordlessly, waiting for the shoe to drop. Instead he dug in his pocket, pulling out a fat wad of rolled up bills. Tucking it under one of the garments in the box you held.

"This should get you on your feet." Steve smiled at you. You blinked at him confused by his words. He turned from you briefly, hailing a cab to put you in.

*Was it really true? Were you really free?*

As the yellow cab pulled up an SUV parked behind it. When the back door opened the people filing out caught your eye. A beautiful woman dressed in black sequins and from what you could surmise maybe barely old enough to drink. Followed by Bucky and a few of his lackeys.

Steve lowered your head into the idling cab, careful not to hit your head on the open door. "Your replacement" comically chucking a thumb back in their direction. Closing the door he knocked on the drivers window and took out more money. Telling the cabbie to take you where ever you wanted before leaving.

Sitting in the back seat you turned and watched Bucky led the young beauty into the building. "Where to Miss?" The driver asked and it was a question you hadn't had the privilege to answer in such a long time you didn't know what to say.

🏢

It took some getting used to, but eventually you found your bearings. With the money you got a tiny apartment miles away from the penthouse. It was funny as you had always fantasized about moving to Canada or over seas if you were to ever escape Bucky, but here you were, still stuck in the same city.

Now free again you were able to live life as you wished. Eating when you wanted, going where you wanted the freedom was exhilarating. Unfortunately the time spent with Bucky you lost all the friends you had, family was scarce and thanks to him there was also a large gap in employment. Finding a job wasn't so easy, but eventually you landed on your feet.

🏢

The diner was quick to snap you up for their evening to graveyard shifts. It didn't pay well, but it was fine and you loved it for what it was. Free food, the occasional good tip, the money was enough to live off of and it was far away from Bucky's syndicate.

It took a bump from a passing waitress to bring you back to earth. A booth in your section filled to the brim with your nightmare. Looking to the door you contemplated walking straight out and never looking back. A high pitched whistle caught your attention. The table across from theirs signaled for a check.

Panicked you looked for a fellow waitress to help you out of the bind, but no one was in sight. There wasn't a point in running. If they were here, then they were going to get you.

Holding your head low you walked over, hugging the laminated menus tightly to your chest.

Quickly you handed them their receipt and tried to make your fast escape. A familiar voice cleared his throat making you jump. You stood with your backs to them for longer than would be normal and the table in front of you didn't appreciate your company.

Of course this was it. The nightmare would continue. Turning to the table you greeted them robotic-ally. As if they didn't all know your name already. While you passed them the menus it was if you didn't exist. Your eyes darted back and forth between each of them, barely a glance as they received the menu.

Your heart ached for the girl that was now your replacement. You could see from her face that she was running on fumes. You wondered how long Bucky had kept her up, breaking her in, if she tried to escape like you had.

A day out for you was normally a reward for good behavior, so she must be a 'Good Doll', you shuttered at the recollection.

"Long time no see!" Steve perked up when he finally turned his head to notice you. You had to ignore the prickles, control your nerves like you used to when you went out with Bucky, but he didn't look your way.

"I will be your server today. Is there anything I can start you off to drink with today?" Your voice came out as even as you could get it. Digging out your pen and pad, almost dropping it as you trembled.

"This is what you've been up to huh" Steve asked, his volume louder than others around him would like. He was the only one who seemed to care about your presence, the others just ignored you, going over the menus.

Your heart wanted to break through your chest as you tried to hold it together. When no one else seemed to care still, you could finally try to breathe properly. Bucky was too focused on his phone and from the subtle movements of his arm under the table, the girl fidgeting next to him.

* Just stick to the script don't engage in anything else.*

"I will give you folks a few minutes then come back to take your order."  you said ignoring him. Steve frowned at that, but you knew he wouldn’t move without Bucky’s order. Walking back you felt stiff and you were sure that sweat was seeping through your uniform.

🏢

You were a nerves wreck once you finally ducked into the little waitress nook by the kitchen. Scrubbing your face with your hands you took several deep breaths, the action not really taking the effect you wanted.

"Excuse me" her voice was barely above a whisper and though you never heard it you knew who it belonged to.

"Go back to your table Miss." you refused to look at her.

"Please you don't understand" her soft voice shook. You knew that if you looked, her face would be filled with tears. When she touched your shoulder you fell away tripping over your own feet as you rushed away. Finally you were face to face with her.

"I need your help, please" you were right she was crying.

"Get the hell away from me!" You pressed your back flat against the wall. Huddled in the corner as guilt and self preservation fought a battle inside of you.

"Everything alright back here?" Steve popped his head through the doorway.

"Y-yep.......just fine she needed to uhhh p-pee and I was just showing her the way" you felt your heart bash inside your chest once again. Steve wasn't stupid, but you prayed that he believed you.

With her back to Steve you knew that look and a part of you felt guilty for doing nothing. The young girl walked past you  to the restroom while Steve lingered in the hall. Lowering your gaze you peel yourself off the wall and slunk into the kitchen.

Steve followed, leaning in the archway of the kitchen. You tried to look busy and you were surprised that the cooks didn't ask him to leave. Even this far out their reach stretched you guessed.

"Can't speak to old an old friend?" Steve inquired.

"Steve, please..."

Steve may have looked sweet, but he was never one for sympathy.

"You're not in trouble I just came to say 'hi'."

*Bull shit*

He turned his head to see the young beauty leaving the restroom and you were glad. You didn't want to see him dragging her out if it came down to it.

*She must've run before.*

"Whelp it was nice talking to you again" he said as he followed arms length behind the girl.

🏢

"You folks ready to order" you forced another smile as you talked. It was almost eerie how they acted like any other customer. It was as if you hadn't known these men for the past five years. Each gave you their order. You served without any further incident.

When they finally left they even gave you a sizable tip. It seemed now that you were truly just a faded memory to Bucky.

🏢

Heading home on the train you couldn't wait to feed the alley cat friend you were trying to earn the trust of. Another day bringing him left over food from work.

"Here puss, puss" you called out to the darkened alleyway. Pinching off pieces of meat and tossing it about.

Your name was called out so you instinctively turned to find the sound. When your eyes found Steve you dropped everything you had and ran. You didn't know where you were going, shoving through various people as you booked it down the avenue.

The lights of a tea house caught your eye in the far distance. Dashing inside you try and calm down and walk to the bathroom hurriedly. Ducking into and locking one of the stalls you stood on the toilet seat and waited.

Hoping he didn't see which way you had gone.

The door to the restroom opened slowly, the sound of foot steps crept closer to your stall. Holding your hands over your mouth you tried to hold in your sobs. It was hard to control your breathing, you were panting heavily from the run. Even with your eyes squeezed shut you knew he was standing right in front of the stall you hid in.

"I know it's been a while...but you should know better than to run from me." His dark chuckle filled you with dread.

"You had fun right?"

🏢

The numbers ticked up in the metal lift slowly. The whole way up you looked down at your feet. Unable to bare the cocky look on Steve's face.

Stepping out of the elevator, the hall that led to the penthouse was long, but not enough. Steve moved from behind you and opened the door. The familiar cold chill of the penthouse hit you. Taking your shoes off at the door you walked over to the living room area.

"I'm really quite surprised. I thought you would've skipped town... Thought you would make me chase you half way around the world." Steve chuckled, that was the straw that broke the damn. Your face felt drenched, you had tried so hard not to cry in front of him, but once again you failed.

The past few months felt like a dream, in the back of your mind you knew it was a lie.

"You should probably get undressed." Steve ordered. You heard him shimmy out of his jacket, hanging it on the door as you sobbed.

Steve was just parroting orders from Bucky you were sure. It didn't matter that Steve was in the room, Bucky was what you were more worried about. He had let you go and for some reason he got his dog to drag you back. Steve's presence only added to the humiliation, defeat and soon further shame.

🏢

You stripped yourself of your clothes, folding them neatly and placing them on a pile next to the couch. The room felt colder, your skin and nipples prickled while you walked over to Bucky's chair.

Bucky had a favorite chair in the living room. A seat that was solely reserved for him and that is were you stood, naked while you waited for him to appear.

He normally was already sitting waiting. Not seeing him there didn't help stop the tears from flowing. Had you pissed him off at the diner? Had something happened to the girl? Did she tell him that she talked to you?

Behind the chair you were able to gaze at the city as you thought through each possible slight. Steve walked up from behind, placing a hand on your shoulder causing you to jump.

"Calm down he isn't here." Steve told you as he held up his hands in surrender, flopping down on the seat before you.

There had been many an occasion that you witnessed unknowing souls sit in Bucky's chair. The action seen by him as an unforgivable level of disrespect that made your stomach turn as he would rectify the slight.

The chair was Bucky's throne and only to be christened by him and him alone.

Steve's legs spread wide in defiance as he made himself comfortable as you tried to understand the sight of Bucky's most loyal man before you.

"Bucky won't like you in his chair." You warned.  His eye's went wide almost surprised by the sound of your voice.

"Hah... Bucks got you trained good" Steve lightly laughed. "Come have a seat."

You blinked at him as he craned his neck to admire the look of distress. Bucky was not one for sharing and you doubted he would be thrilled to see you naked and straddling Steve in his favorite chair.  

When you didn’t move Steve’s warm hands pulled you down, your knees folded at his sides. On the descent you gasped, your eyes wide with panic and confusion. His playful grin fueled by your dismay. The chair wined at the added weight and you were sure it would break from the way you struggled to escape it.

Steve's arms wrapped and rested around your hips, pulling you close, making your movements hard. Your legs were tucked and  pinned at his side, your frantic movements rousing something that made you shutter when you felt it. With what little space you could manage, your arms moved up to wrap around your chest in an effort to cover yourself and make a buffer.

🏢

"You know you were always my favorite." He spoke calmly while your whole body shook in fear. It was a nerves shake that Steve had witnessed many a times and from the glint in his eyes you knew he enjoyed it.

"So creative in your escapes, but just too sloppy at covering your tracks" he t'sked while the hiccups and tears intensified. Steve rocked you back and forth gently in his lap. The fabric of Steve's pants rubbed against your mound, the length of his cock pressed desperately against his zipper and he made sure you felt every inch.

"Remember that time you set the penthouse on fire. Good trick getting the firemen to get you out". He chuckled completely unbothered by your distress. Smiling up at you brightly as if he were talking to an old friend. His walk down memory lane was not as fondly remembered as yours.

"At the diner I was sure he would've flipped out when he saw you, but I guess he was just to preoccupied to notice." Steve gave you a playful wiggle of his brow. As he talked you bit back shame. The incessant movement stimulated your clit, you could feel a wetness growing at it was only a matter of time before he noticed it too.

"The new girl learned her lesson far too quickly for me. I let her take off once just for fun... Then she never did it again."

"He has someone new right? He doesn't need me." Your were a sniffling mess. You knew Steve long enough that your tears meant nothing to him, but that didn't stop you from pleading.

"Oh sweetie if you didn't know by now he didn't let you go."

Your mind was swirling. Steve orchestrated it all just to have 'fun'.

🏢

"I want you to look up." He requested and you looked at him confused. "Over there in the left corner." He nudged his head and your eyes looked in the direction.

Your heart sank to the floor. There was a camera, one you never noticed before. You felt sick. Was Bucky watching you? The optics of this situation you could only imagine.

As far as Bucky was concerned you had ran out on him and Steve was just doing his job bringing you back.

From that angle it would look like you walked in, stripped and got on top of him. That you were fucking him in Bucky's chair. Steve's eyes lit up as you put all the pieces together.

"I fucking hate you" You said softly. Your chin fell to your chest as you continued to bawl.

"Oh Sweetie I don't care. I can only imagine the look on his face right now." Steve ducked his head down to look you in the eye, confirming Bucky was indeed watching.

Taking your wrist he moved them behind your back, bonding them effortlessly with one hand. Steve was hell bent on making your bad situation worse. You needed to get free and get out.

Steve's head moved to nestle your breast, you tried to lift off your knees, but his thighs kept you trapped in the chair. You attempted to jerk your wrists free of his hold, but Steve only held tighter.

Steve wasn't afraid of reprisals from his boss. They had been friends from childhood, at most he would get a slap on the back if the head. While you shuddered to think of what he would do to you.

"Don’t worry we have time to play" he teased. You felt Steve's hot breath on your breast as he talked. When he licked and sucked at your nipple, taking it in-between his teeth, flicking his tongue on it you felt your arousal grow.

"Please Steve..stop" you panted out as heat rose throughout your neck. You felt his mouth smirk swirled around your nipple, his face nuzzled in your chest, inhaling deeply on yours skin as you rocked in his lap.

The chair groaning protests increased and you prayed that it would break, giving you a chance to be free. When your hands were suddenly released you pushed at his chest hard, surprisingly he fell back with a chuckle.

"Why can't you just let me go?" You slapped at his chest as Steve rose to his feet. The weight of your ass rested in his palms as you tried to force yourself down and out of his hold. You yelped when Steve pinched your ass hard, the sting a warning to stop. Though your movements didn't cause his hold to waver, it was as if you weighed nothing.

🏢

Steve liked you. He was normally indifferent to the women that Bucky would bring home, but you were different. He loved the way you cried for mercy then begged to cum. The shame in your eyes when he watched you submit.

Bucky had a habit of replacing his toys. So Steve waited patiently for Bucky to tire of you, but a man could only wait so long.

"How many times had you wished it were me?" He changed the subject. Gone was his playful smile, his face stoic and unreadable just like Bucky's.

"I saw how you looked at me... wanting my cock inside of you... What would Bucky think if he knew"  Steve purred.

You hadn't wanted Steve or any of this. It was just that his eyes were just that inescapable. Bucky's second set of eyes. Always through a cracked door, from the corner of a room, reflecting back at you from a mirror. His eyes haunted your sleep just as much as Bucky's did.

He turned slightly to open the door behind you. Once it opened you knew the room you were in, Bucky's bedroom. You had shared it with him, but nothing in it belonged to you. You were nothing more than a dog that was made to come happily whenever he called.

When Steve tossed you on the bed you bounced. You watched, frozen while he stripped at the foot of the bed.

🏢

His mouth moved, but if he was speaking you couldn't hear it. The pounding of your heart was so loud in your ears that you couldn't make out whatever he was saying.

Each step he took you pushed back on your hands, scooting backwards on the bed to get away. Your elbow hit the head board as he unhooked his belt and unfastened his pants.

The bed dipped as he placed a hand on it, you watched and time seemed to slow when he stretched out to snag your ankle. You took the bed covering with you when you clutched it as you twisted and turned to pull yourself out of his grip.

With one hard yank you laid flat out on your stomach. Steve couldn't help licking his lips at the sight of your ass jiggling as he played with you. When he let go you stumbled over yourself, pressing your back flush once again to the head board.

🏢

Bending over he dug something out of his discarded clothes. Standing straight you watched as he played with his phone. Steve tossed the device to you and you blinked at it wildly. "Bucky’s across town with his new girl. It would take a few hours to get here." You picked it up as he talked. You knew the spot on the map, the red indicator blinking Bucky's location.

"Tell you what. I will let you go. If you give me what I want and I won't come after you again." He offered. Flopping on the bed Steve's back faced you. It was a trap you knew it, but some semblance of hope still lived in you, so you sat quietly and listened.

"Or I can take what I want and then stand by when Bucky comes back." He laid out on top of the bed with his hands laced behind his head. Gripping the phone you contemplated quickly dialing the police, but you were sure they would never make it in time. And if they did by some miracle come, you couldn't guarantee they wouldn't be dirty anyway.

Swallowing thickly you placed the phone faced down on the mattress. Steve tilted his head and observed you, smiling at you expectantly when you started to move.

You tried to reason with yourself as you approached him. You prayed that he would indeed keep his side of the deal.

Steve unlaced his fingers as you rounded him and you felt your skin prickle all over again. The bed didn't make a sound as you haltingly swung your leg over his waist.

Your hands shook as you placed them on his bear chest. Despite the heat coming from Steve your shaking remained. Your stomach tensed when Steve's fingers trailed up your thigh and rested on your hips.

Holding you, Steve lowered you down, flicking his cock back and forth with one hand to align himself to your entrance. His tip played with your folds, the prodding brought a slickness from your core.

🏢

Steve loved the way you cried. The sight of your puffy face whenever you begged and pleaded.  He loved that despite all the fear there was a fire that wouldn't die no matter how hard his buddy tried to stomp it out.

"You mad things fun around here." Steve's tone lowered to a husky growl. His eyes turned their focus from your face to your breast as the feeling of utter defeat washed over you.

His cock pressed threateningly against your lips as your palms rested on his bare chest. Steve kept you paused in position, your thighs burned while you hovered in place. the trembling not unnoticed by Steve. Moving from his cock the one hand traveled upward, gently ghosting over your hip as it crept up your frame.

Bucky despite his distance stayed at the edge of your mind. You looked around the empty room, jumping at every odd noise. The paranoia in your eyes made Steve painfully hard, but he controlled himself as he explored you.

Steve's large hand encompassed your breast as he palmed it. Gliding his thumb over your hard nipple the soft fatty flesh bounced in his hand when you inhales sharply.

A very sensitive area he noted. He wanted to know every inch of you, what made you squirm, but that would have to wait until another time.

It made his cock twitch just thinking about it.

🏢

With one quick motion he forced you down. The plunge sent jolts deep. Your cervix ached with fullness as your stomach tensed and strained to adjust to him. Mewling through gritted teeth you sheathed him completely.

"Did Bucky fill you up this good?" He growled. Steve felt your cunt hug him tightly, the feel made him twitch inside of you. You grunted when Steve bucked his hips at your lack of reply. His cock strained against your core, you hadn't noticed your nails had dug into his chest. When he bucked again he let out a long drawn out his as your nails dragged against his flesh. The thin lines on his skin leaving a stinging reminder of you.

"No!" you sputtered out much to Steve's pleasure.

"Good girl" Steve praised.

You gasped out when he finally allowed you to rise up, but before you could relax he forced you back down again. Steve muscles flexed under your hands. His deep grunts growing in volume as he resisted the urge to flip you over and rail into you deeper.

"That's it, that's a good girl" he grunted. Steve controlled the momentum. Every downward motion sending jolts to your core. You rocked into him, his voice humming as your pussy clenched around him. "Who do you belong to?" He demanded, making sure to throw his hips hard with each syllable.

"Steve Fuck!" You let out a sharp gasp at the feel of the head of his cock hitting your ceiling. Steve sucked in his bottom lip slowly letting it drag out again, the way you grabbed made him groan with delight. The feel and sound of you struggling made him almost come right there.

Unlike Bucky, Steve was different. You could never read Bucky, every wrong move you made in his game was met with swift reprisals. While Steve read of an unabashed wild eagerness.

"Such a dirty whore just for me" He beamed as you bounced atop of him. His blonde tresses stuck messily to his glistening forehead. Your shamed dissolved into pleasure as your ass slapped against Steve.

The feel of him overwhelmed your senses. Your pussy squeezed, your climax barreling through you like a freight train.

"You know better than that." Steve swatted hard on your side. The sting still there as you forced back your need.

You choked down what was left of your shame and begged him. You needed to cum, the tight coil in your core threatened to burst.  

"Please.." You rasped out, looking away unable to face him. Steve reveled in your pathetic attempted to hide away from him. He felt you, there was no denying what you hungered for.

"please. ..Steve.. " you panted out. The sound of your sloppy sex and punishing manipulation was splintering in your womb.

"I need to come" You mewled.

Steve shot up, his massive arms wrapped around you, clutching your shoulders he shoved himself deep inside.

"Come on my cock" he commanded. Holding you down tight as he pumped his seed into you.

Your cunt milking out ever last drop as you both breathed heavily.

"Hey Buck... welcome home." Over your shoulder he stared deep into the eyes of Bucky as he coated your walls.

🏢

<<< Elevator

[userdjarin]

dusky visor (iii)

the mandalorian x f reader | ao3

↞ pt.2 | masterlist | pt.4 ↠

series rating: explicit

summary: mando had always worked alone. and then he found someone to trust.

injuries, accidents, and amends.

series warnings: domestic fluff, light angst, hurt/comfort, smut, porn with plot, ofc touch-starved din, is it obvious i’m writing for a universe idrk

chapter warnings: descriptions of a wound + blood + injection, mando briefly and accidentally hurts you, uhhh filth, blindfolds, fat meat mando :-), oral sex (m + f receiving), facial, cum-eating, multiple orgasms + overstimulation, mando is insatiable!!

wc: 7.1k

a/n: christ i am so bad at gauging the word count LOL maybe this is too long and winded bc half of this is just one (1) smut sequence :-//

Alright, so, you didn’t get to taste him after all. Having two orgasms meticulously rip through you from head to toe, one after the other, had you spent. Sleep might had even taken you before your head hit the pillow too.

So, you’re regretting it now, after you’ve been left alone all day with nothing to accompany you but your untiring thoughts. You have the kid with you too, of course, but you can only pretend for so long that the two of you are having intelligible conversations when you’re faking all of your comprehension of his huu’s and patoo’s.

After Mando had landed the Razor Crest on some industrial planet this morning, he left to put the newfound credits – courtesy of the departed Calican – to use with some new supplies and munitions. Given the less than amicable reputation of the raiders and pirates that litter this city, he instructed you and the child to stay in the safe seal of the ship while he goes on the search for it alone. So, you’ve taken an occupation in doing some maintenance and cleaning around the Crest, so thoroughly to pass the time that by now, you find yourself methodically polishing between the insignificant crevices of the flight board’s controls.

But even that wasn’t enough to distract you from asking yourself if it—last night—will ever happen again. It couldn’t have been anything more than just two people satiating the starved nature that organically breeds from living in close quarters with no one else but each other.

Right?

But Maker, did you make it so blatant just how starved you were – coming twice, one right after the other. You’re shameless. Maybe it’s good you didn’t have to face Mando today.

The thoughts flee you when you feel the vibrations under your feet that tell you the ramp is lowering. You’ve had all day to prepare on how you’ll act around him once he returns. But now you’re forgetting left from right, let alone whether you decided if it is safer to pretend like nothing happened or to address the bantha in the room right out of the gates.

You spin to find the kid’s betrayal, having fallen asleep in his pram that rests on the copilot’s chair. This kriffing green toad was supposed to be your conversation buffer, but a nap must’ve been more stimulating than watching you clean the console like it was a surgery. A defeated sigh deflates your shoulders as you reach to close the pod and let the kid rest, before grudgingly leaving to face the tribulation yourself. You’ll see if Mando needs help putting things away, and to remind him of the leftover nut loaves and meat bricks if he hasn’t eaten yet.

You start with deliberate steps down the ladder. But your landing onto the hull’s bottom is much less so – brash and panicked when you hear the disjointed, modulated breathing and the hefty clunk onto the deck that sounded like the same weight as an armoured Mandalorian.

Composure is held at a great length away when you find him slumped on the floor against the far wall with the cast of net slinging back the mount of storage boxes. The lag in his movement as he removes a pauldron reads like he’s expended, and you suspect he didn’t do himself any favours when he probably forced himself to stock away his purchases before he’d tolerate a collapse.

“Sh-Shit, Mando, are you—what happened?” A gale of flustered words sputters from your lips while you dive to your knees beside him. You’re following suit in helping him rid his other pauldron, unsure exactly why, until your fingers hit a deep-seated feeling of viscid moisture that drains the rest of your extremities of sense and acuity. The dread rears when a reluctant retrieval finds you generous ribbons of red dyeing the length of your fingers and the lustre of the shoulder plate.

“Bounty hu—unters. Group of them. Ambushed m—” A dry pant steals his voice, the blanched tone of it sounding like it hurt to shape each word. “Managed t-to take them all down but—got… one got me.”

Paying caution but wavered by a haste, you wedge a palm behind his back to bunch up a corner of his cape and press it to the general area of the bleeding. “Fuck, h-how bad is it?”

His chest is heaving but he narrowly strains out a word. “Th-the—the…”

“The medpac!” You gasp, adjacent to a tenor of apology for not thinking of it sooner. You clamber over his outstretched legs to bring you closer to the wall of storage, where you plunge an arm into an opening of the mesh to rummage for the kit.

“—the Crest looks spotless,” he rasps to finish, and it didn’t sound comfortable. “Good job.”

You’ve got no capacity to assemble a response, hoping that his apparent indifference means there’s optimism to his situation. But, you’re more grounded in your suspicion otherwise, glimpsing at the exhaustion that dims his movement and renders him near unfamiliar when he works to loosen his cuirass until the plates fall down his frame.

“You were gone all day, but I just thought—” your lumbering clutch retreats from the net with the pack, ungainly with frustration. “—Shit, I should’ve known. Sh-should’ve checked in on you on the commlink.” You don’t waste as you’re hurdling back over to the side of his injury and throwing open the contents of the kit onto the floor. “Why didn’t you say something?”

A broken but amused scoff shudders his chest. “And what—hah, what would you have done? S-s-set out, blaster in hand, to help me face them?”

Mando’s mild taunt brings you to empty a small huff from your throat, not insulted, but staggered he could find any facility to make light of his state right now. While you, on the other hand, have limbs that want to shake like a guarantee that it’s the only thing you know how to do. But you refuse it. Because right now, you need to promise yourself and Mando that you can be of trust and reliance. So, you play along to ground you to that promise.

“Save your breath, Mando.” You’re able to find a jeering edge through the char in your mouth and it nearly startles you. “I’m gonna take a look, okay?”

Mando lets you flatten a hand across his unarmored chest for him to lean forward on so you can inspect his wound. Slowed by a tire, he loosens his neck wrap to undo his cape and free them from obstructing you.

“And—yeah, so what if I showed up, blaster in hand?” you lean into the gentle mischief to comfort you while you’re straightening on your knees to arch over his shoulder and peer down his back. “How hard is it to—to aim and shoot? I bet all that beskar is just to look pretty anyway. F-For show. And—and the kid c-could’ve done his magic hand wave-y thing you’ve told me about.”

You feel Mando’s entertained reply in the scarce humming in his chest on your palm, but you don’t hear it because you’re instead barraged by the acid building behind your airway when you find the slash in his flight suit, the frayed seams of it speckled with a quality of mahogany. The tunic is fucking soaked, you feel, when quivering fingers reach to pull back the teared fabric. And then your stomach is hollowing out at the sight of the thick trickles spilling from the gouge that breaks his skin. It’s tucked under his shoulder blade, like a vibroblade must’ve just missed the armour and dug into his side. It doesn’t look like it got too deep, but the damage made as the dagger shredded its way out in the retrieval is certainly worse. You’re biting your tongue to kill the startled curse from leaving your lips, because you’ll give your fear the power to grow if you speak of it aloud.

You draw back on top of your calves, occupying your hands with the medpac contents so he doesn’t see you shake. “S-sorry, I’ve never administered bacta as an injection before, but—” your breath hitches when you palm the fucking huge syringe, “—but I’ll be careful.”

“No.” Mando doesn’t need more than a single, neat syllable to deliver a weight of finality. His hand overlaps yours that holds the E-bacta shot and urges it back down into the kit. “It’s for—I got that for you and the kid. Maker forbid we’ll ever have to use it. But—save it in case… in case something happens to either of you. Patches—bacta patches will do.” He heaves a low grunt when he reaches for the bandages instead.

You’re rattled by a disbelief that he could even think to debate this. “Mando, it’s a stab wound. Bacta patches a-are for temporary—it won’t be enough!”

“Looks… worse than it is.”

Your face contorts with distress and urgency as you gasp your plea. “Fuck, Mando, you—you’re bleeding out! No time to—” Panicked fingers clasp onto his sleeve to prove your desperation, while you’re thinking about just how much more blood he’s poured by now. “—to argue, so pl-please just let me do this!”

Your heart is pumping so brashly, it drives a pulsing to your furthest extremities, and you could’ve sworn it was drumming a rhythm against the floor underneath you. A cold sweat swamps your skin enough that you feel yourself clammy and nearly sliding atop the metal panels. It drags on for seemingly eternities even more so when Mando’s visor holds on you, so rigid and covert to keep you from knowing if he is steadfast in his decision or if his defence is withering.

And then he grants you the reprieve you so anxiously need. “Don’t… use it all. Just—just a quarter dose.”

The sigh of relief that you let out is the largest give your lungs have felt this entire time and it’s almost blissful. You’ll give him a half dose since he hasn’t seen just how nasty the wound is himself, and you’re not willing to take bets. But you won’t tell him that.

Your grip is strong with an eagerness now as you’re prudently gliding the kit’s pair of shears along his suit, from the hem at his neck into a trail down his chest and another down his back. You peel the trimmed strip back to access his wound and his arm, where you’ll decide on a fleshy area for the jab. You’re bringing the needle there while the adamant need to stop his bleeding, to hear colour return to his voice, to watch verve return to his movements, tunnels your vision. Until the cave of Mando’s palm drapes your hovering wrist.

You peer up at him with a vivid reassurance that displaces the nervous glisten in your eyes. “Qu-quarter dose. I’ll be careful,” you repeat back to him.

“I know.” His calm cadence tells a story of trust where you imagine his gaze couldn’t. It is another concern that he is instead reminding you of. “But… breathe.”

With all of your senses bound to a certain resolve, you hadn’t realized your breaths were at a standstill. But Mando noticed.

He always notices.

You’re nodding as you take his advice, attentively inflating your chest in the same tempo you sink the syringe into his skin. The exhale that grinds out from his modulator sounds even more ragged, like it had sieved through clenched teeth first. And then Mando tips his helmet back against the wall as the tension extinguishes from his muscles when you’re drawing the bacta shot away, half empty. You’re mirroring the same ease as a solace starts a slow bleed throughout your body, ejecting the fretful shivers from your bones.

“Sneaky. That was more than a quarter.”

Stars. Nothing you do ever evades him. You’re quick to move on before your trickery dwells in the air for too long.

“Gonna clean you up now, Mando.”

Still, you find contentment in the fact that his senses must not have been startlingly eroded if he was able to catch your fib. Before the high of the bacta sets in and possibly lures him into a lethargy that will work to your detriment when you alone can’t move his heavy frame around, you carefully help him shift for you to better face the arch of his back. He turns away from you, leaning his uninjured side against the wall instead.

You’re more than vaguely intimidated by the vibrant gash that stares back at you while you’re cleansing it with a basin of water and some towels. But, you try to find soothe in the reminder that in a few hours, it’ll close to a dull ridge of a scar, maybe even more insignificant a few hours after that. E-bacta shots are potent, which is why they’re so rare to come across and why Mando was so insistent on saving it.

You let him recover in the quiet, feeling the delicacy of his uninterrupted breathing under your hand, flattened across his ribs to steady him while another watchfully dabs a cloth at the swaths of red over his skin. You’ve mopped most of the blood off him, and it lets you see him better, feel him deeper.

Mando is hot to the touch. His skin is honey in both sight and texture. Uncovered are the gentle hills and valleys that carve his sturdy arm, leading to the sculpted expanse of his shoulder. Cascading from it are inviting crevices that delectably map out the strong of his back. And just as spellbinding is the climb, where the solid column of his neck boasts as a perfect canvas for the brush of your tongue. You almost hate that it’s an overtaking thought in your mind while he’s tired and weak and hunched over with injury in front of you. But it’s innate when this is the most of him you’ve ever seen – you haven’t even seen his cock yet even though he was filling you with it to the hilt last night. Still, you’re rising to leave and rinse the soiled cloths, and to starve out the thought with distance before the indecent opinions continue.

While dumping the basin of polluted water into the fresher’s sink, you’re reminded that although you’ve cleared the area of his wound, his clothes remain generously stained. “Mando, your flight suit—i-it’s soaked,” you speak over the running stream of the faucet. “Do… d-do you want me to help you out of it?”

You’ve tried your best to strip most of the colour from your voice so that your offer rings as nothing more than medical and aiding, but you’re resenting the reveal in the stutters that splinters your words. And then, it’s something else that worries you instead, when nothing breaks the quiet, still air in reply. A pause this long wasn’t normal for even your reserved Mandalorian shipmate.

“Mando?” you call again to stir his rest, in case he was snoozing, while finding him exactly where you had left him. But then, you’re looking back at the blood-saturated towels that pool in the sink and… he’s bled a lot. Your peer returns to him when this known light-sleeper once again fails to respond. And still has yet to move. Actually, you don’t remember a single shift in his position since you first touched a damp towel to his skin.

Shit. A winded breath is held captive in your throat as you’re hastening back over to him. Maker, you hope he is just resting. But the fear is incessant – were you too late with the bacta injection? Had he bled out beyond repair at that point? Fuck, you should’ve just slammed that shot into him without waiting to argue about it!

You’re kneeling behind him now but you’re quaking too much, unable to steady yourself in order to compare for a rise or fall in his frame that’ll tell you he’s breathing. So, you’re desperate for a more immediate and firm confirmation, and you decide you’ll find it in the dive of two fingers under the bottom ridge of his helmet that’ll comb for a pulse. Your digits are wiggling under the tight hug of beskar, but before you could catch a rhythm, everything spins and a struck to the back of your head rips the air from your lungs.

Doubling vision keeps your sights from settling, but you make out the abyssally black visor that hovers above you and the weight that crushes your chest to keep you fastened to the floor.

This act is foreign. Far from the light touches and soft voices he normally uses towards you. But it’s because your act on him had been just as foreign.

“—t’s me! Mando, i-it’s me!” you cough, you pant, your lungs pulling up and tight as they’re desperate for a breath that seemingly exists an impossible reach away. What you had managed to push out your throat was only a scarce ghost of your voice, but without the time for recovery, you used anything that would’ve been enough to sober him.

“Sh—” he doesn’t waste when he lets the recognition of you wrench himself off your figure, “—Shit.” His reach starts for your shoulder to help you off the ground but recoils away just as quick, averse to startling you further with any more of his sudden movements. “Th-the shot—! It—! It…” The turbulence that filters through his vocoder speaks of unrest and worry and blame – too rattled to find the finishing words.

In his dark, quiet, foggy, drug-induced doze that had muted all concepts of where and when, all he had perceived was the uninvited fidget of his helmet, like it was lifting off his neck. Bacta shots have been known to cloud senses and stimulate a bit of a high, so he perceived a threat before he perceived you. His bounty hunter instincts stole the reins and he reacted how he would to any adversary that had welcomed themselves to the trespass of exposing his face. Except, it was you, not an enemy, that he had forcefully thrown back and pinned to the ground.

“Are you hurt? D-do you need—”

Huffs still erupting from your chest, you instead try to speak with the reach of your hand, urgent to dispel his apprehension and relieved to find that vitality has returned to him. Mando receives you by offering the hook of his elbow for you to latch on, another delving behind your back as they together draw you up into a sit. “Stars, your—” you try to let words fall between each cough until you’ve gathered enough of an unbroken voice, “—your strength is back. Th-that’s go—od.”

“Are you hurt?” he repeats again, his speech low and compacted by the gravity of concern now. The fabric of his gloves scratches your face when his palms swallow the margins of your jaw. He holds you like this for him to study the life in your eyes.

“No—no! Fine! I’m fine!” Having fully caught your breath, you add a vibrancy to your tenor in case your gaze wasn’t convincing enough, and because this intimate act spikes your heartbeat in a way that disarranges your pitch. “Just—just surprised me is all. But I’m fine.”  You’re uninclined to mention the muffled panging at the back of your head, but you figure it will subside shortly.

Still, the black of his visor fixing on you tells you he is immeasurably far away from letting go of his blame. “Sorry doesn’t—sorry doesn’t even begin to—”

“It’s okay,” you wrap around his wrists and squeeeze to help your plea, “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”

The fever that starts in your chest from interlocking like this is threatening to travel like wildfire. Your eyes catch the trimmed strip of his flight suit that wilts from his arm, before you’re following the contours that shape the unveiled length of it. And then an appetite to see more derails all other thoughts.

Your hands move to scarcely lift one of his palms off your face, only for your fingers to gingerly arch under the hem of his glove before you lag there and glance back at him in request. He wordlessly responds with permission when his hand draws backwards to make the stripping of his glove mutual. You don’t let a second to exist before you’re replacing the naked cave of his grasp with the curve of your cheek. Your face sinks into the delicate hills of it that convince you it’s where you belong.

“You… could never hurt me.” The bleed of his bared warmth across your skin empties a quiet, idyllic sigh from your chest. You have to bite back the purr that nearly falls from the seam of your lips when his fingers curl tighter along your jaw. “I’m glad you’re alright,” your voice dips with soft honey to reassure him.

You’re losing yourself in his rich scent that mutes the border where he ends and you start. It hikes your need for more, and your body acts on its own when it searches for it by abbreviating the gap between your face and his chest. When he doesn’t move away, you allow yourself to close the distance with a bury into the place under his collarbones.

Stars, your self-serving desire certainly erodes any idea of reservation. Though, your face is fitting beautifully in the firm of his chest. But Maker, you’re greedy. You don’t want to stop there. You want skin to skin. You want to taste.

“Mando, I… I want to—”

You don’t finish with words but with action when your fingers clasp around the clipped edge of his tunic that loosely still clings to him. But then his hands are binding both your wrists and you freeze like a caught criminal. The gravel in his next words, though, reads like an invitation.

“Tell me what you want, precious girl.”

Only wisps sieve from your lips, “F-fuck, Mando, I—” The peaking of your appetite puts a fluster in your grapple for words. “I want to—to have you in m-my mouth.”

A ragged breath drones out from his modulator as he releases you, hands dropping into a grasp of your thighs instead like he needs to catch his balance after such lurid verses. It tells you he’s crippled by a craving just as laden. So you take it as permission for your digits to continue its peel of the fabric down his torso, revealing the hills of his clavicle that you trace with delicate kisses. The gorgeous way your lips cushion against his skin is enough to string together a shameless hum from the depths of your throat.

You’re fucking brash, ravenous, because you don’t even realize how low your hands have travelled on their own until his chest puffs and a gritted sigh rips out his voice filter. Only then do you finally feel the friction you yourself put between the wrap of your palm and the length below his abdomen.

Mando has surely found his strength back, given just how quick he stiffens and grows in your grip. You leave no time for deliberation or calculation when you’re tearing his waistband just low enough for you to take him into your hand. Maker, you’re purring when you finally feel the naked heat of his cock. You’re eager to spiral your thumb around the tip while you feverishly size him against your palm.

“F-Fuck.” His daunting girth spills a curse from your lips before you’re able to catch it.

How did he fit all that inside you last night? You’re startled, but more than that, you’re eager to find out for yourself again. The sheer length of him makes your mouth crave to taste him, to stretch around him, to abrade the cap of your throat. And you’ll indulge yourself with just that when you stable yourself on your knees before dipping your head to touch a thick lather of your tongue from the base to the velvet head. His length leans against the flat of your hand as you do so, and feeling him respond with a twitch in your hold swells your craving to take all of him into your mouth. But his ached panting out the vocoder reminds you of another spoil that you’re absolutely yearning for, and it delays you from continuing.

“Mando,” you resurface almost with an impatient gasp, “will you take off your helmet?”

Just so your audacity isn’t dwelling in the air for too long, you show him what you mean when you throw your shirt over your head. A few swift movements has you smoothly trimming across the waist with the heavy-duty shears from the medpac, still nearby and still unpacked. Then, you’re taking the long strip you’ve made yourself and blanketing your eyes with it, taking the dangling ends into a wrap that meets at the back of your head, where you’ll secure the threads with a tight knot. You hope he won’t also make you pathetically explain with words just how needy you are in your wish to hear his raw cadence and unfiltered pleasure when you later push his cock the deepest it’ll go in your mouth.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he is tender in both his timbre and his gesture when he meets you by a delicate touch on your cheek, just under the fabric of the blindfold.

“Y-Yes.” A conservative syllable, yet without your sight, you’re able to hear just how graceless it was in tenfold. “Will—will you take it off?”

And you get your answer when you hear the rim of beskar lightly clunk against the ground. Thrill surfaces on your face as a foolish smile before you’re able to extinguish it. But you’ll make a spectacle of yourself in another way, pumping the length of him as you dip the connect of your lips back down to the tip, now glossed by a film of precum.

You’re thorough in flattening your tongue against the underside of his cock as you slowly take him into the hot bind of your mouth. The slight hop in Mando’s tone tells you he’s rolled his head back, before his lips billow a hiss that is an octave away from an unreserved groan. Indulging in the undressed sound of it urges your thighs to squeeze together, creating a bit of a stammer in your kneel atop the floor panels.

The tease of his taste excites you, so you invite him into a deeper glide along untouched depths of your tongue. You only reach the midpoint of his size before an introduced ache forces your lips to clasp down harder. You gently suck to tauten the wrap of your mouth around him.

"You feel incre—ah—credible. Do—doing s-s-so well," his breath scarcely survives long enough to punctuate his grunt with your name. “Keep g-going.”

Reveling in your earned praise, your lips open again for him to watch when you drag his length back down to the front of your tongue, your mouth coated by the precum trickling from his swollen tip. Your appetite for grinding the edge of your airway overpowers all other sophisticated thoughts, so you’re keen to close right back in. You feel his hand gather your hair to expose the nape of your neck, where he dances two fingers of his other hand along in encouragement.

“S-so beautiful. Y-you’re so beautiful like this, sweet girl.”

Mando’s panting swells and plunges with every slip against your tongue. The stammering lips that spout gruff curses linked by desperate praises make his taste and the accompanying burn at the border of your throat all the more gratifying. You’re addicted to his strangled breaths every time your mouth nearly sheaths him whole. So your bobbing quickens as you’re greedy to hear more of his bliss vocally translate.

Looking at you was a dangerous game – the view of your flushed cheeks that cave to the precise curve of his cock, contorted brows that tremor in rhythm with every dive, and your swollen mouth that brims with an immodest cocktail of your spit and his slickness – all threatening of a climax that would happen too soon.

And you sense it coming too, in both sounds and touch. A primeval grunt slackens his jaw and reels out his throat. A series of twitches course his limbs under the grapple of your palms. It summits your delight and drives your mouth to an unreserved tempo.

But then he pulls you away. Except, you still find yourself lacking the thick taste of his cum. You realize he hadn’t finished in your mouth, hearing him pump his cock with his own fist to release himself elsewhere, so to not smother you with it. And it’s a plot that you refuse.

You rush to join the sleek head of his length with the flat of your outstretched tongue, just in time for one last lurch of his hips to jet out the hot white threads across your mouth. It connects to the peak of your nose and extends as far as speckles in your hair. You can’t help but whine when your tongue swipes to collect the ribbons on your lips, elated that you’ve finally caught his taste. The edge of your finger pushes the rest that dribbles from your chin before you close your mouth to drench the entire cave with it. An indulgent smirk stretches across your face as you eagerly swallow his cum like it’s a meal you’re thankful for.

He sighs with a searing fever at the lurid sight of your saliva mixing with his cum and threading from the blushing pillows of your lips. The expanse of his palm hugs the side of your face to straighten you in your kneel and bring you closer for him to admire. His thumb blots at the light traces that smear a corner of the blindfold.

In case the two of you ever want to use it again.

Mando hums with a low voice that’s thoroughly broken in by the lingers of a turbulent high, “Hmm, pretty thing.” He inches forward and brings nearer the husk of his voice to your ear. “How’s that taste?”

Stars, he’s brash this time.

He lets the pleased grin on your expression answer for you, before he finds out for himself when he closes the distance with a soft kiss that catches some of the sheen on your lips.

Fuck. He just kissed you. He’s been inside you and you’ve just sucked him off like tomorrow wasn’t coming, and all of that had already surged you with an exhaustive elation. But this. Maker, this will stay with you till kingdom come.

“You… treat me so well, precious girl,” his gentle volume fogs along your skin. And you must be so lulled by it, your wits completely surrendered to it, because it escapes your register entirely how he’s already moved you onto your back. You feel a fabric underneath you, which must’ve been the gathering of his discarded cape for you to lie down on it comfortably. He must’ve also stripped off the remaining tatters of his flight suit, because you feel his bare torso stretch against your own when he leans into you from above. His lips delicately ornate your face with butterflies – and it starts a summer in your chest – as he takes a clean cloth from the medpac to dab the rest of the stains on your face.

“I can…” you draw in a breath to hearten your next words, “…treat y-you well when—whenever you want, Mando.”

The tickle of his facial hair hovers in the valley of your neck, and the light rumble you feel vibrate against your skin must’ve been his quiet chuckle.

Fuck, it must be a gorgeous sight. The two of you, half naked and melded together as his unbared face cushions against your most sensitive parts. A sight you can’t see for yourself, but it’s a sacrifice you’re more than willing to make if you can feel and hear the amplified intensity of the rest of it.

You hold a breath captive in your chest as you’re compliant in stretching your arms above your head when Mando glides off your bandeau. You’re shivering against his relished sigh, blushing when he lets himself see you fully now. Quickly, he finds home in your soft mounds with the nip of his tongue and teeth. He loses himself in a gluttonous exchange of hefty breaths and the swift rakes of teeth that teases the peak of your nipple, tugging to lightly swell before soothing over with the lush sweep of his tongue. Frail whimpers rolling from your tongue tells him of how surrendered you are to his sway.

He is uncharacteristically less than coherent when he speaks on how the salt of your skin is an intoxicating flavour for him. And fucking stars, his face and his hands are moving lower. And they’re moving quick. The drifting smell of the slick desire between your thighs enthrals him to an irreversible degree – he’s unable to wait for you to lift your hips when he moves back to tug away every remaining layer that separates you from him.

As soon as your wet cunt is chilled by the cool air kissing it, a pant shivers from your lips. He is eager to feel the thick gloss for himself, the pads of his fingers running a thorough trail that spreads the sheen for you to feel what an indecent mess you’ve made of yourself. “Shi—t, pretty girl, is this—is this all for me?”

You’re unarmed against the hunger in his baritone as a heated rouge unfurls across your face. The reactions torrenting through you makes him realize that his mouth also begs to taste you until you come. So then his hands are meticulous in their need to feel you as he parts your thighs, allowing him to marvel at the sodden anticipation that glistens in between. It draws a gruff hum of greed from the depths of his throat.

Shock rushes you before anything else when his mouth closes in. You’re twitching at the raw and naked contact you’re so desperate for, irrepressible as if to confess to him that he’s robbed your body of autonomy. He is blatant in his muttered praises about your slickness and taste while his lips cycle the capture and release of your folds. Your hands desperately search for something to grasp, and you find it in the tangles of his hair, another on top of his own hand that curls around the swell of your thigh. Then he moves to lap your clit, savouring all of the trickling desire he presses out of you. Your hips become untameable as it grinds along with the thorough pushes and strokes of his wet muscle.

“Fu—Fu—uck, Mando, I—” The barrier of your teeth drives down on your lips to curb the voice that begs to break the still air with a brazen volume. “—So good, it—it’s—too good. I’m—shit, you’re—” An unyielding fever robs you of concrete language and puts a scramble in your thoughts. The floor panels start to take the assault of your hands that are frantic for purchase.

“Sweet thing,” he doesn’t withdraw the slightest, doesn’t interrupt the friction or pace when he hums words into your skin. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

And you can feel it too – the way his mouth moves against you is telling of his gladness that he’s only able to enjoy you like he is right now because of how you’ve helped. Though, you hope the chances of needing to help another wounded Mando again is closer to… never.

A quavering sigh departs you. “—W-worried. You had me s-so worried.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” You can’t see it, but you sense the heat of his unwavering stare on you, like he’s drinking in how your core writhes to meet each of his strokes. “Never again.”

You’re at a lost, air stolen by the shapes he traces against your throbbing clit. He hisses of approval at the painting of pleasure you leave on his tongue, illustrating how much of a pleasured mess he is unraveling you to. He’s still gluttonous in his wish to see how you finish, and it mirrors in the heightening of his rhythm.

Spurs of ecstasy start to unfold between your thighs before it expands like fireworks in a blinding hot scale to the rest of your body. Your hips are rocking and your legs are thrashing, hysterical in your chase for release. And he is holding forfeit far away as he continues with his lapping that doesn’t stray. Shuddering gasps are desperate to soothe your pumping lungs, yet somehow, your speech still fights to cry the most shameless and indecent dialect.

The pressure of something like a stretched coil released into a wild springing begins so slowly evaporate. The drumming settles into a quietly pulsing trance as delight bleeds into your bones and your limbs submit to a wilt.

He is unwasteful, murmuring with satisfaction as he leaves no inch of your cunt unattended. “Look how fucking good you taste,” he gravelly rumbles as he moves off your thighs, only to climb and meet you with the push of his tongue past your lips. Both the taste of him and the taste of your saturation floods your mouth. You’re obsessed with the tender pillows of his kiss, so it feels too soon when he pulls away. Until he brings his lips to the shell of your ear for you to hear the full, rich appetite in his voice. “I’m not done with you yet, pretty girl.”

Your eyes pop open under the blindfold. He wants more? He can keep going? Just how strong was that E-bacta shot?

You’re disoriented, but your hazy figure makes it easy to yield when he nestles his hips deeper between the wedge of your thighs. “St-stars, Mando, you’re insatiable.”

He stops all movement immediately. “S-Sorry, are you—are you tired?” Concern displaces the blaze in his tone.

The apprehension in his words brings you to a breathless laugh. “No, but—”

Well, you were. But you’d be unconvincing even to yourself if you said you weren’t just as needy.

Your hands blindly reach up to find that his chest hovers above yours, propped up by the two palms planted on either side of your head. “Y-your shoulder. Shouldn’t you rest?”

And then he drops to his elbows, his chest dipping to meld against yours as he fixes a gentle kiss on your collarbone. “I don’t even feel it,” his lips are close enough that the sighs in his utterances tickle your neck.

“But I don’t think you should—”

“Quit.” And he’s awfully persuasive when he plunges his thumb into your mouth to shut you up. “Hush, sweet thing. I only want to hear you moaning.” His palm delves between your pelvis and his, showing you how ready he is when he holds his hard length at the breach of your folds. “Do you want that too?”

The pulsing that so quickly swallows you at the tease of it boasts of just how far you exist from declining. You nod, as your mouth is occupied when you suck on his finger to prove of your plea.

“Good.” His hand then moves to land on your waist, possessive as he digs into your skin to steady you there. "Relax, precious girl.” He eases into you. “Just relax.” The delicious stretch stifles you for a second. Then, your fever climbs just as tall as his and your hips push back to meet his forward jolt. "Keep being good for me, hm?" he grunts brokenly.

He lunges into you with an unacquainted vigour, prying your jaw open with a gasp that reels from your throat. His palm travels again into a hook under your thigh for him to throw your leg over his shoulder. He then huffs greedily at the depth he gains and the sounds he earns.

The sheer girth elicits whimpers from you as if you can’t handle it, but it thrills you that he doesn’t refrain from sheathing his entire cock with your walls. His hips drill into you while he drenches your ear in the visceral tremors of his pleased groans, a craving plaguing his every tenor.

But then a raw throbbing drives a soreness to even your furthest extremities when he starts thumbing your swollen clit above his heavying thrusts. Maker, you feel another ferocious high coming again. And it’s going to be thoroughly aching.

You’re frantic as you grapple onto the wrist of his offending hand. “T-too much, M-Mando,” your voice leaves you in fragments.

“You can handle it, can’t you, pretty girl?” He doesn’t interrupt his pushes and his strokes, and you only breathlessly mewl with a jaw that stutters at every meet of his unrelenting lunges. Your legs ache from his durable rhythm. “Come on, let me hear you,” he rasps, and the primal quality of it convinces you.

So euphoria slams down on you and inundates your senses like never before. A sore quality floods you, but you invite it.

 His thrusts straying from a familiar tempo and leaning into a disorder tells you he’s veering right into his own unbridled climax. Husky grunts erupt from his chest while he pumps into you as if to chastise your pretty cunt. And your whines soar madly.

He empties into you, and it relaxes and parts your lips with a delirious grin when you feel the warmth in his thick load drenching your quivering walls. Blissful whispers of how you’ll never ever know a cock as good as his falls from the plump of your lips.

You’re both exhausted. You’ve both exhausted each other out. A drowsy haze is quickly diminishing any consciousness that still exists between the two of you. He drops his full weight into a rest on your chest, while your limbs are lazy in their wrap around his frame.

He’s muttering something about sleep, but you’re already beating him to it, surrendering to a slumber that builds upon the darkness already existing behind the blindfold. The last ghost of a thought that grazes your dying awareness is something along the lines of a tease about his behaviour tonight, and its relationship with the half dose you gave him. But you’re completely adrift before you’re able to refine it any further.

add yourself to the taglist here!

[devilrainbunnie]

DATING SHIGARAKI HEADCANNONS

shigaraki x fem!reader 

(can post a male or gn one but due to the nature of what i wanted to cover, i decided to do a fem!reader)

cw: slight angst, sexual themes 18+, and soft tomu baby (slight mommy kink i literally can’t help it bye)

a/n: don’t feel bad! i love seeing your messages on here, and my requests are dry as heck. i don’t mind at all, thank you for being so kind all the time. i appreciate you! @milkyywavee

-

Tomura Shigaraki is a hard man to read. While he isn’t just straight up mean to people, he might come across as apathetic or aloof just due to his sometimes socially inept nature. While he isn’t totally shut out from the world, and understands most things, the nature of any sort of relationship is completely new to him. He’s never really understood the want, or need for it. He doesn’t really seek out affection in anyone, but he doesn’t mind when Kurogiri pats his head from time to time, or Twice forces him into a hug-- after all they’re his family.

But romance is something completely new to the boy, he doesn’t get it in the slightest. Even more so less than friendships, the thought of loving someone seems fake to him, how can someone be so unconditional? He’s very pessimistic in his view of romance and love.

In all honesty, I can’t see him caring much about people who aren’t already villains. What would he have to gain from chasing after someone who’s probably terrified of him? He doesn’t have the time or want to try to teach someone he’s worthy of love.

But one day, as he’s interviewing new recruits for the League of Villains, he sees someone mindlessly tailing behind Giran, looking a bit lost. A bit too innocent to be here. Tomura freezes as he watches you nervously look around the room, not saying a word and letting Giran do the talking to Kurogiri. He’s found countless people attractive, but there’s something just so alluring about the way you are. He can’t tell if you have some sort of quirk, or he’s really physically attracted to you. You notice his stare, but out of respect you keep your eyes elsewhere. 

After you introduce yourself, show them your quirk and get to talking about why you want to be there, you’re stunned at how quickly Shigaraki is like “okay, you’re in then”.

Once you’re settled in, you notice Tomura doing the smallest amount of things for you that he doesn’t do for anyone else. He’ll acknowledge you more than anyone else, he’ll offer a spare controller to you if you say you’re bored, he listens to advice you give (even if he doesn’t agree with it), once he even was out to get himself food, and remembered what kind of snack you liked most, when he gave you the snack, you lit up. You were smiling ear to ear as he handed you the little package, you thanked him, and for a second you thought you saw him blushing, he mumbled something incoherent before awkwardly speed walking away. Ever since that day especially, your crush really developed.

One time, after a bit of banter and some light drinking, you were given a confidence boost. 

You were talking with Twice, and Spinner at the bar. Cracking jokes, and telling stories. It was great to bond with them, and they really seemed to like you. After a bit more of laughter, the two gradually decided to end their night. Leaving you to sit alone at the bar by yourself. Not even Kurogiri was around. But suddenly, you noticed the faint sound of clicking, similar to that of a controller. You look at the couch you assumed to be empty, noticing Tomura deep within his game. You feel guilty that you didn’t even see him sitting there this entire time. Deciding to say fuck it and finally converse with him, you chug the rest of your bitter tasting drink. Letting it burn down your throat and chest, the feeling going straight to your head. 

You walk over to the couch, plopping right next to Tomura. His nose in his handheld console, he took a second before realizing who was sitting next to him. You couldn’t really grasp his reaction as he was wearing father like usual. With the help of your liquid courage, you put your head on his shoulder. “What’re you playing?”

“I’m uhhh, I’m p-playing Breath of the Wild, i-it’s a Legend of Zelda game.” he stuttered, shocked by the sudden closeness of the two of you. “Can I help you or something?” he managed to spit out without stuttering, he was nervous.

“Mm, just watching. You’re so cute when you’re nervous.” you giggled at him, you couldn’t tell but his face was bright red. He was becoming even more flustered than usual around you. His legs felt weak and wobbly, his game console losing hold in his grasp.

“Whatever.”

“Do I make you nervous?”

“Why?”

“Just wondering.” you smiled at him. 

“I-I don’t know.” he tried to brush you off, trying to shrug you off his shoulder but you just leaned into him more. There you sat for around ten minutes in silence watching his little game, it was interesting even though you had no idea what was going on. After a while, you realized how sleepy the alcohol was making you. You covered your face with your palms as you yawned, and shifted your body, not realizing you gradually had been against his chest. Oh my god, you thought internally, listening to how fast and hard his heart was beating. 

“M’tired. Good night Shiggy.” you slurred, not moving.

“Night.” he replied, it sounded a bit standoffish, but even when you were half awake and intoxicated, you understood he was nervous. You sat up on the couch, putting a hand on the side of his face you weren’t next to, and kissing the top of his head.

“Night-night, good night.” You said as you crawled off of him, and walked your way back to your room. Failing to know that you left your boss in a shambled, confused and nervous wreck. He was beet red the entire night, and now because of you he was horny upset. Were you just drunk and messing with him? Were you actually interested in him? Was he reading into this too much? You couldn’t possibly like him, could you? I mean look at him, he has messed up skin, too much scars, and a mop for hair. He thinks he’s disgusting but, he’s a monster. Monsters are supposed to look scary.

Over the next few days after, you were embarrassed with yourself. You felt like a terrible person for stressing out Tomura the way you did. You tried your hardest to avoid him out of embarrassment, any time you ran into him you’d smile and make up an excuse to leave. You were planning internally a way to tell him how you felt, without making him feel weird. Your avoidance of him however, made him feel like you didn’t want anything to do with him. Tomura was more closed off, and passive than usual to everyone. He felt so embarrassed and ashamed.

That was until you stood in front of him as he was on the couch. Like usual, it took him a bit before he was able to recognize someone was there. You handed him a little letter, on the back was his name, with a little heart. Before he could ask you what it was, you disappeared as quickly as you came. His heart was stammering in his chest again. 

He stared at the envelope, curious as to what it was.

He opened the envelope, noticing how your writing was nice. He read the words carefully, wanting to be able to grasp every single sentence. Your kind words, and confession made his entire body feel light. There, again, he though internally;

She called me cute, again.

After reading so, he quickly go to his feet. Making his way to your room. Knocking on the door and waiting for you to answer. You were nervous behind the door, nervous he was going to be upset with you. So you peeked through the door with only your eyes, and quickly he began.

“Did-did you mean all of that? Everything?” he seemed a bit different to you, his tone was unusual to you.

“Yeah.. I-I did.”

“Can I come in?” he sheepishly asked. 

You opened the door, and Tomura took off father rather quickly, his face was dusted red and he was stammering, which was highly unlike him. He hoped you understood what he was meaning by taking off father and showing you his face. You both talked about what happened. It was mostly you talking, and Tomura answering. After you began to question him, he got very closed off. Like he didn’t want to answer you. 

“Hey, can I tell you something?”

“Y-Yeah?”

“You’re so cute when you’re nervous.”

You loomed to his side, brushing his hair from his face. His eyes were watching you intently. What the hell are you--

You kissed him.

You-- kissed him.

Your hands were nestled in his hair, as you kiss his rough lips softly. Tomura began to feel a familiar dull ache in his stomach, looking up at you with lidded eyes. He wanted more, more and more and more. He wanted to kiss you until his lips fell off.

“God, you’re so cute Shigaraki.”

“Tomura. Call me that. Tomura.”

“Tomura.” you smiled at him, kissing him once more.

After that, things gradually progress into a relationship.

Now things have progressed, and you both have grown together.

Tomura really likes kissing you, and being kissed by you. Nothing picks him up better when he’s sad than you kissing his cheek, and telling him to come to you when he’s ready.

He’s like a cat though, sometimes he really needs his space. He’s touch starved, and touch can overwhelm him. He won’t always let you know, but over time you learn a sixth sense with him. You’re able to know without having him voice it to you.

He likes cuddling you when he wants to relax, he’ll snuggle up to your chest and lay his face between the valley of your breasts. Inhaling your sweet perfume scent, and he immediately relaxes. He also likes to kiss and suckle on your breasts as a way to show affection. He might slobber all over your chest, but he does that only because he’s comfortable with you.

He likes to sleep with you, but it took him a long time to get there. He was so worried he’d wake up and you’d turn into a pile of dust. But now he’ll sleep with gloves on, but not all of the time.

You two don’t really go on dates, I mean you both are wanted criminals. So where could you even exactly go?

Well, that didn’t stop the two of you from having at home dates.

You’d just order some take out to eat together, sometimes you’d cook him food so he’d eat something good. You’d watch a movie and snuggle, or play some games. Whatever the mood for the night was.

Sometimes he’d take you out for sight seeing, he really liked going to a specific meadow. He just likes to relax around you.

Tomura doesn’t like to fight with you, despite how sour his attitude can be from time to time. Neither of you fight much to be honest, when you do, if you get sad he might not notice right away and only will if he sees you sulking or crying. Then he’ll get sad. Feeling guilty, and asking for forgiveness. He might seem rough around the edges, but you dove right into his soft spot. He loves you too much now.

Tomura likes bathing with you, not in a sexual way. Sometimes he enjoys having you massage his shoulders and scratch at his scalp. He likes the hot water against his skin as you lay on his chest. The mix of the heat, your comfort, and the rich smell of soap in the air, makes him feel like nothing will ever be wrong in the world. He can forget for a period of time.

He also will usually make you stay home during missions, he’s worried about your safety. If he lost you, he’d lose himself. He’d rather die a million deaths than lose you to anyone or anything.

He also likes when you do things for him to show you care. Like when you clean up his room, make his bed and do his laundry. He gets ecstatic, it makes the feeling of your love feel so much more real.

Tomura shows his love in different ways, however.

He thinks leaving you with bike marks and hickies means that he’s showing his affection. He’s always been a bit aggressive in the love department, he just can’t help it. He loves covering you in affection.

He likes to buy you food whenever he thinks you’ve earned it. It’s his way of showing you that he thought of you, and he went out of his way to do something for you.

Tomura also enjoys being gifted clothes of yours. He’s not gonna wear it, but the scent soothes him turns him on. You’re his favorite person, everything about you is perfect to him.

Nicknames are also a way of showing you how fond he is of you, no one else is called player two, or mommy baby than you.

This might be weird, but Tomura loves to nuzzle into your cheek and neck. Your soft skin is perfect, he can’t get enough of it. He’ll act like a clingy kitten the way he’ll rub his entire body in you to when he wants to be loving.

Tomura overall really likes being babied by you, he’s never had that and you’re perfect for making it up. He might be more dominant in other areas of his life with you, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t enjoy you brushing his hair, making him healthy meals and humming him tunes when he needs to drown out the voices in his head.

If you read to him, he will melt. He loves when you tell him stories or read one of his favorite books. It makes him feel at home, it makes him feel safe.

Tomura also willingly leaves his clothes with you, he thinks it’s cute when you walk into his room ready to cuddle and sleep wearing a shirt of his he ‘forgot’ about a few weeks ago. It makes him feel proud. He’ll never admit to that though.

Sometimes Tomura will compliment you by comparing you or things you do/wear to anime girls he likes. He doesn’t understated that it might be offensive or hurtful by others, but you understand that if he’s willing to compare you to characters he adores, he thinks you are beyond beautiful. Don’t worry, he does think you’re prettier than them anyways.

Whenever you’re on your period, he’ll be there helping you through it. He doesn’t know exactly what to do, but he knows that you get a lot more hungry and want to be comfortable. If you get cramps, he’ll get confused and be like “just drink water, you’re probably dehydrated” like no baby that’s— you’re so sweet, but just... no.

And whenever you’re sad, he’ll be sad too, but he’ll try his best to kiss it better. He likes to hold you to him, and distract you from your sadness. Sometimes he’ll offer doing something he usually doesn’t like doing, like putting on facemasks or letting you paint his nails. Or if you’re up for it, maybe even cooking with him or having a little dance party. He just wants to do anything to make you happy.

Tomura doesn’t always tell you how perfect you are, or how much he loves you but he tries to do that in other ways. He’s not good using his words, it’s foreign to him.

Tomura is also dangerously horny, and loves pleasuring you. Which is another way to show you that he loves you, making you cum.

[an-ambivalent]

WARNING:  This post contains yandere themes (unhealthy relationships) and mentions of other toxic behaviours  that can be triggering and uncomfortable to read. So, read at your own risk. This work is purely fiction. I do not condone this toxic behaviour irl.

Fandom: Naruto

Pairing: Sasuke x Reader | Neji x Reader

Status: Headcanons, requested. 

Ask:  How would Yandere Neji and Sasuke act around their fem darling? (In Genin stage). No beta, we die like men. It’s 2 am for me, I’m too anxious to sleep so yeeee, probably incorrect grammar here and there. 

Yandere Sasuke

(for his scenario you are part of team 7)

~Sasuke as a yandere is possessive in almost everyway, every scenario / circumstance. He will want all of your attention on him. Even if he’s not much of a chit-chatter himself, he will not allow you to speak to the other two idiots, especially not Naruto.

~Whenever the four of you (Naruto, Sakura, you and Sasuke) turn up on your meeting spots on time like the idiots you are, and are left to wait for Kakashi for an eternity, he will force you into the furthest corner away from Sakura and Naruto with himself. Even if he does not do much, he will want you to be near him always and not with the other two, ever.

~Many times, you are in a position where Sasuke is hovering over you, even preventing the other two from seeing you. That’s one reason he does this. The another reason is because he likes being handy and doesn’t want others to see his affectionate side that he only wants to show you. By handy I mean PDA. He would casually play with your hair, brush his thumb against your cheek, hold your hand, etc. He has been alone for so many years. The boy’s family is dead, he has no one. So, he is really touch-starved. That’s why whenever someone sees you next to him (which is always), he’s always touching you in someway.

~Attitude, haughty, passive-aggressive. Evidently, Sasuke is much nicer to you compared to how he treats everyone else. Anyone can see that. However, that does not mean you are immune to his patronizing remarks. If you ever try to go against what he says as in, try to protect him, or don’t let him protect you and keep an eye on you etc, he will start pointing out  little weakness you have as a ninja. He can become ruthless with his insults and bring tears to your eyes until you’re sobbing like the pathetic mess you are for even suggesting that you could survive without his protection.

~Easily gets jealous. Most likely, he will take his anger out on the person who induced his jealousy. However, if you act or even genuinely are oblivious to someone making a move on you and he sees that you’re not doing anything to stop them, he will be passive aggressive with you.

~Genin Sasuke at this stage would not be as mean as he would become in the future as he loses more and more of his insanity. And in terms of dealing with yanderes who patronize you to make you realise your place, Genin Sasuke is nowhere as bad as his future self, or Genin Neji.

Yandere Neji

~One word: ruthless.

~Genin Neji has an attitude and he is just so full of anger and blinded by ‘fate’ and his own supremacy.

~You are his. You were destined to be his. You belong to him. Don’t ever be stupid enough to try and fight your destiny because he has no issues drilling it into you if you try to refuse. He will use your worst insecurities to mock you and patronize you, and then mercilessly attack you and block all your chakra pressure points to hinder your movement to make you realise how helpless he can make you.

~If you behave and be his obedient little submissive, then Neji will be endearingly nice to you and spoil you a lot with tiny thoughtful presents. He will buy you pretty yukata’s that he thinks would just show off your beauty. He will buy you any books you want to read and read them out to you during your picnic ‘dates’ in a park.

~His favourite thing to do would be to buy pretty hair pins for you. I don’t know why, but I can just strongly picture a yandere Neji being somewhat obsessed with your hair and wanting it to look pretty. So, he would go out of his way to style it for you and gets you lots of different pretty pins you can wear. A new pin for a new day.

~Neji’s jealousy would work in two ways: sometimes, he doesn’t really care for whoever tries to make a move on your or takes your attention away from him. He is confident the fate you two are meant to share. He knows you belong to him, so he wouldn’t care enough to lose his temper or feel upset about it. He would still harm the person who dared to think they could have you though. Other times, his anger flares up and he will that person dead right away. And in moments like these, that is probably not enough to satiate his anger so he might punish you too.

(Not really part of this, but somehow I can kind off see a yandere Neji being a bit of an incel just because he’s from the Hyuga clan and they’re so traditional. So, Neji having the upbringing with concepts like women being inferior to men and all that traditional bs, doesn’t seem far-fetched tbh. And like, him thinking that you as his wife, should serve him and obey all his commands---)  uhhh, anyway, this thing is probably for another time ^^”  

[cgogs]

I’ve been meaning to leave a nice message in your ask box for a week or two now, ever since I found your writing, but I never have the words to express just how much I absolutely adore your writing. I’m literally just. staring blankly ahead trying my best to make my brain articulate words but goddamn do your fics leave me completely speechless.

I found Oxeye Daisy while searching the c!dnf tag on tumblr in a desperate attempt to feed my brain. I’m a multishipper at heart but sometimes DNF rents out any and all available space in my mind and refuses to leave. Then I saw it, your post. Announcing that the first chapter was up. I followed you, we’re mutuals even, how had I missed it?

I open it. Its only chapter has more than 10k words. It’s c!dnf. I can’t believe it, I hit the jackpot. The first scene has me instantly hooked and I don’t stop reading until I finish the entire thing. I could See the first scene so clearly. it’s so clear that it’s blurry, because I even imagined the rain. Dream and George’s dynamic is a breath of fresh air, it’s exactly what I want to read. It’s messy, it’s complicated, even unhealthy sometimes. They can’t communicate for shit yet they both try, and don’t try, because they love each other.

They make me lose my mind. Like vibrate out of my skin while reading lose my mind. Like the first thing I did after finishing the chapter was run to @dreamslesbian's DMs and scream continuously for an hour lose my mind. And God don’t even get me started on that scene in the mineshaft. Plus the flashback? Them kissing for air? THEM KISSING FOR AIR. OH MY FUCKING GOD I CLAWED AT MY ENCLOSURE, I TELL YOU. The codependency got me so good.

AND THAT’S JUST THE FIRST CHAPTER. YESTERDAY I WOKE UP TO THE UPDATE RIGHT. The first thing I did in the entire day was read it. Like, immediately. I INHALED IT. I LOVED IT OKAY, IT’S EQUALLY AS GOOD AS THE FIRST ONE, IT’S JUST A WONDERFUL CONTINUATION, IT FITS SO WELL. Every time they talk I just @#%&/!=)$?@ GOD. I love how you write them. LIKE GEORGE????? INCREDIBLE SHOW-STOPPING AMAZING WONDERFUL. He’s soooooooooo !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I love him. Him wanting Dream to want him, to need him. The entire part where he stops talking out of spite? LOVE IT. When they talk about it afterwards? Dream’s response to everything. ALSO THE FACT THAT DREAM IS ERRATIC IN HIS RESPONSES SOMETIMES??? Like the morning after him and George talk, when George takes the arrow out of his shoulder, how he’s acting completely different, closed off, with the mask on??? MY GOD. LIKE YEEESSS IT’S THAT SWEET SWEET TRAUMA LET’S GOOO. AND THE FACT THAT THEY ARE BOTH TOUCH-STARVED AS HELL BUT THINGS ARE HARD AND DIFFICULT AND UEUEUEUE

I feel like they managed to communicate a lot more in the second chapter, even if it was still a mess, and I’m honestly scared for the next chapter but in a super excited ‘i hope they suffer emotionally, i hope they cry, I hope I cry, I hope we all cry’ type of way.

OH AND THE FACT THAT DREAM STILL WANTS TO GO ALONG WITH THE PLAN AFTER EVERYTHING? I N C R E D I B L E.

Also I’m not even half finished like I uhhh haven’t even started talking about for queen and country like uh.

I AMM CRYING FFOR REAL THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MMY LIFR this is making my week my month my year like.

I put so much effort into oxeye daisy like blood sweat tears fingernails , i am so fucking glad to have made content people were hungry for like THE PEOPLE NEEDED THIS FIC... THE C!DNFERS.....

I'm going to reread this message one million times. I wish I could frame it. I'm showing all my friends. And my cat.

[shhhlikeme]

A/N: Feeling writers block so I thought I’d throw in headcannons with some of my fave boys that has been sitting in my drafts! If you want me to continue this with more characters, request em!

————————————

Intentionally or Unintentionally CockTeasing The Haikyuu Boys Because They Can’t Have Sex

(Slight NSFW)

————————————

So this is wah gwan/

Background for Understanding:

Your boyfriend was playing volleyball and pulled the groin muscle in his inner thigh. After several x-rays, he would be out a little longer than a month before making a full recovery. But the doctor told him that the boy MUST refrain from ANY and ALL sexual activity if they ever want to play again. The look on his face looked like he had just been told that the world was ending lmao. You snickered and hugged him. Reassuring them that “It’ll be fine, babe.”

But it wouldn’t be.

Because you were a little shit (unintentional or not).

Needless to say, they were having a tough time refraining from any and all sexual activity—

Here’s why:

Wakatoshi

“Y/N. Do you think this is funny?” Asks your boyfriend seriously as he gives you a disapproving look. You’d think he was your school principal by the way he was chastising you.

You feigned innocence as you pouted at him with wide eyes. “What? What am I doing now, Toshiiii?”

He didn’t blink.

“Must you practice your splits for cheerleading right here? In front of me? Wearing a thong? Why not go to the den.”

Suppressing your urge to giggle, you leaned further into your almost-middle splits as you flipped your hair—looking back at him over your shoulder.

“No, I want to be near you, Tosh.”

Your boyfriend scoffed at your response, unimpressed and frankly pissed.

“I do not want you near me doing that. Go. Now.”

You smile because as your giant serious boyfriend spoke he stared intently at your ass only. You could see the tent forming in his jeans as he watched you stretch.

“You’ll have much more space to do this in the den.” He added.

“Oh? You want me to go to the den because I’ll have more space, love? Or could it be because you want to help me stretch out elsewhere—maybe the inside of my pussy—but the doctor said you can’t?”

Toshi’s mouth fell open at your insinuation. Annoyed and undeniably horny, he makes himself shut his mouth again. You reached your hands forward in the stretch to give your man a better visual of your ass and you could hear him groan from behind you.

Ushijima made a move to take you upstairs before remembering the doctors orders and stopping. He reminded himself why he cared so much about that sport that was standing in his way from fucking his girlfriend to oblivion and tried to calm his anger at you for teasing him.

“I’ll go, then.” He stated angrily. “I’m going to Tendou’s. Tell me when you’re done stretching, and I’ll be back.”

You waved at your boyfriend happily as he left because he looked funny marching out with a huge boner sticking out from his front.

“Okay, baby! I will!”

Hinata

“Whoaa....” Murmured Shōyo as he watched you with wide eyes. For the past three minutes he has had his eyes glued to you while you devoured the ice cream cone he had just gotten you two from your fridge.

You used your tongue to lick all around the vanilla treat. Swirling your tongue up, down, and around, sometimes making a slurpy sound that sounded quite familiar to the boy who missed your blow jobs so much.

Mans sat there watching your tongue like he was in a trance, his eyes flicking from your mouth to his attention-starved dick then back to your mouth.

When the ice cream shrunk enough to be swallowed like your boyfriends cock, you enclosed your lips around it suggestively and met your boyfriends pleading eyes as you did it.

You finished the rest of your frozen treat happily, knowing you just made your boyfriend incoherent with lust.

“Mmmm......it’s so sticky........and tastes so good....” you sigh in delight as you lick your fingers of the white creamy sweetness.

“Shōyo? You haven’t even touched your ice cream. And it’s dripping all over your hand!”

After calling his name twice more Hinata snapped out of his trance, he looked over at his dripping strawberry ice cream cone that he’d forgotten he even had as soon as he heard your first slurp.

“Oh, Y/N. Here, please, take mine too!” He shoved his ice cream in your direction and you slowly take it from your oddly acting boyfriend.

“You want me to..... have your ice cream?”

Hinata nodded enthusiastically before he quickly wiped his hands clean with a paper towel. He leaned his head on his knuckles as he got comfortable, preparing himself to watch you swirl your tongue around ice cream again like this was his favourite Marvel movie!

“Okay, I’m ready.” He says with bright, eager eyes.

Actual footage of your boyfriend Shōyo:

“Go.”

Aran

“Babe. You had to pick this movie on your choice of movie night?” Your boyfriend wiped his face as a show of stress. He begrudgily stared at his screen and then looked down at you through the slits of his eyes.

Pressed to his side on the couch, you smiled up at him innocently.

“365 Days? What’s wrong with it? I think it’s interesting so far. Plus, Atsumu suggested it to me. He told me to play it on our next movie night!”

Aran clenched his fists under the blanket at your words, secretly promising himself to tell his best friend’s new girlfriend how many girls Atsumu has really been with before her the next time Aran went over there.

LMFAOOOOO

“Oh he did, did he? Atsumu. That angel.....” He grimaced. “Was this before or after you told him about the doctors orders when he was worried?” Aran asked between clenched teeth.

“Uhhh.....after, I’m pretty sure. But, Aran, shhhhhhh! It’s getting to a good part!” Aran watched your beautiful eyes light up as the two characters in the movie started fucking on the yacht like animals.

“Ouuu, baby. We should try that position tonight!” You quip, pointing at the screen then taking a sip of your coke.

Aran cursed his stupid friend. “I—“

“Oh right, sorry! I forgot you can’t, poo. But as soon as you are cured, can we try that?!”

Your boyfriend stared you down in mental agony as he pictured pistoning his dick in you mirroring the position on screen—only right now on this couch. His dick jumped.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “When I’m cured.”

“How long again?” You asked as you grabbed the remote to turn up the sound volume during another hot sex scene.

“Too damn long.” He rolled his eyes as he looked back at the porn-disguised-as a-romantic-movie on screen too.

Yams

“Auuuuuuhhhhhhhhh. Yesssssssssss. F-f-f-feels soooooooo g-o-o-o-d-d-d-d, Tadashi.....”

With a violent blush, your boyfriend gave the Furniture store worker a thumbs up.

“I umm.... guess she likes it.” Tadashi reasoned, putting his hand on your shoulder. He squeezed your shoulder silently trying to tell you to quiet down in the store.

Sitting in the turbo massage chair, you moaned some more, letting your boyfriend and the worker know how much you liked how it felt. Tadashi’s ears perked up at every sigh and moan you made. He couldn’t rid his mind of memories of you moaning just like that when you’re on top of him and he has a vibrator pressed to your clit. It was clouding his thoughts. He bit his lip as he zoned out thinking about the fun you two could have on this chair at home with a vibrator. Only a month longer from this stupid injury and you’d be extra sensitive on his dick with the help of this chair....

“—and the parts will be sold separately. Should I ring you up, sir?”

Tadashi was startled when his girlfriend slapped him blindly on the chest to get his attention back to the sales associate.

What is wrong with him? You thought as you felt your lower back getting kneaded. The man is standing right in front of him and he’s zoning out? Get it together, Space Cadet Yams.

“Huh?! Excuse me?! Sorry, what?” Tadashi rubbed his eyes. “Sorry, I was distracted. Can you repeat that?!” He apologized.

The sales associate smiled kindly.

“Sure thing Mr. Tadashi.....so, I was just explaining that the massage chair is the best of its generation. If you look right here on the remote I have— it has 8 brilliant speeds and intensity adjustments. Your girlfriend is on 2 right now which means that if I increase it to, let’s say, 5 ...”

As the associate spoke, Yams was pulled from paying attention to him as you moaned louder when the level setting increased. “O-o-oh my G-g-god.....Dashi y-y-y-es.”

Picturing you saying this while you were grinding on his cunt-buried dick, Yams knew he was on the verge of defying his doctors orders and just fucking you in the car....

The massage chair dug into your tense shoulders yes LORD—

“Oh b-b-baby. T-th-thats-s th-the sp-p-p-o-t-t..”

As a last ditch effort to save his volleyball career, Yams rudely snatched the remote from the employee’s hands, scattering to hide his new erection behind the massage chair.

He clicked a button on the remote to turn the massage chair off fully while blushing at the employees shocked expression due to being interrupted and basically assaulted.

“Um, sorry! We’ll take it!” Yams freaked out apologetically.

“😱 Yamaguchi!” You scolded your boyfriend’s sudden rudeness. “That was so impolit—“ turning in the chair to see your boyfriends dark blush that you recognized to be his horny face, you stopped. It only took one look at him for you to understand exactly why he just acted completely out of character and rude. It reminded you that you have been on this sex strike with him for far too long, ugh.

You stood up from the chair, calling the confused associates attention away from your horny boyfriend. “Um.... I can sign the paper work. Want to bring me to the cash?” You asked him professionally.

The salesman blinked at Yams before looking down at you. “Uh, of-of course ma’am. Follow me.”

As you two walked away Yams’ top half collapsed on the head rest of the chair. He tried to will his hard member to soften but with the massage chair currently under his skin and so close to him, he couldn’t get your vibrated moans out of his head.

He decided that a stroll through the store’s bathroom section might help.

Ya, that would definitely help.

Akaashi

“I know what you’re doing.” Your boyfriend deadpanned as you showed up late to dinner wearing an extremely low cut dress in the chest area. Your breasts could stop traffic in that and you had only just taken off your trench coat after you and Akaashi sat down so he and the female server were basically the only ones who got an eyeful the entire night.

“I like this dress, Kashi. Don’t you? Can you pass me the salad, please?”

Challenging you with his eyes and trying his best not to look down at your remarkable chest, Akaashi reached over to share you some Mediterranean salad onto your plate like a gentleman.

“Say when.” He insisted.

You smiled and leaned forward to peer at his serving so that your boobs were pressed to the forearm he held the bowl with. Akaashi’s breath hitched. After sharing way more than you could eat, you leaned in close to his ear and whispered

“When.”

Your boyfriend’s eyes flickered down to your boobs before he adjusted himself to relieve the tightening in his pants.

“So, how is your injury, babe?” You ask sweetly, taking a bite of the salad and smiling at him.

“It’s fine. As long as I get to play again it’s manageable, but I believe—“

“Crap.” You pretended to be just as uncomfortable as your boyfriend sitting with a boner as you clutched the bottom of your boobs. You pressed them upward, re-situating them with purpose. Akaashi stared at your breasts openly as he took a shaky deep breath.

“What’s the matter?” He asked hungrily, calling back his composure.

“Oh, my bra wire is just bugging me. Boys wouldn’t understand......” You fixed them some more.

“I know what you’re doing, Y/N.” Akaashi licked his lips and watched you basically fondle your soft breasts in front of him. It made his mouth water, but he tried not to show it.

“Hm. You’re the smartest person I know, so I reckon you do know what I’m doing....” You quirked an eyebrow as you removed your hands from your girls and took a gentle sip of your water.

“—Is it working?” You winked at him like a trained seductress-assassinator in a major motion picture.

Akaashi leaned back in his seat, he undressed you with his eyes; also like a trained seductress-assasinator in a major motion picture.

You shivered under the insanely beautiful man’s intensive gaze, closing your thighs to relieve the tension you suddenly felt in your private area since he made you beyond horny with that look.

“It’s working. Yes.” The side of Keiji’s lip quirked up in a half grin. “But I’m fairly certain you don’t know that the doctor called 3 days ago and told me that I am recovering exceptionally fast. He gave me the green light for physical activity again. Sexual: physical activity. I double checked.”

The blood drained from your face as you felt a wave of upcoming pleasure wash through you. You had been waiting 23 days without sex and in a flash you regrettably remembered just how much of your teasing over that period your gorgeous boyfriend had to endure. How much he had to pay you back for.

Akaashi smirked ever so sexily at your shocked reaction. Good, he thought to himself. So you knew what was in store for you tonight.

You stared at him like 👁👄👁

“Waiter.” Your hubby called over your head in his attractive voice with an elegant lift of his glass. He dropped his eyes to look back at you with a panty-dropping stare. As you shivered again, Akaashi proclaimed the weighted words that would inaugurate a long night of screams, kisses, and earth shattering orgasms:

“Cheque please.”

[cinnachuu]

the overwatch women with cuddling hcs: pt. 1

a/n: I’ve been touched starved and I desperately miss writing so here’s some content for my favorite dead fandom <333

ASHE:

•oh good for you u got close enough to cuddle with this woman

•she likes being the big spoon regularly but after a long day she’ll reluctantly crawl into your arms

•she really enjoys playing with your hair and prefers to cuddle in silence, gently shushing sometimes

•she just likes spooning,, she feels safe and loved and comforted by the fact she has someone to hold

•if you’re standing or whatever she’ll wrap her arms loosely around your waist from behind and press a kiss to your cheek

•she’s not the touchiest person but in the morning you’ll find yourself pressed into her, Ashe’s arms tightly wrapped around you.

•she can’t really be a PDA person, as she has a reputation to uphold, but she’ll wrap an arm around you occasionally

BRIGITTE

•okay first off women ❤️❤️

•anyways she’s a big spoon

•she loves to just cradle and hold you after a long day, nuzzling her face into the crown of your head

•She’s more expressive through touch, as she tends to be a little flustered when expressing things verbally so expect her to hold you tightly and bring you super close to her

•she loves holding your hand or tangling your legs with her’s

•rambles about her day and everything that’s happened

•probably just tackles you on the couch and holds you and presses a peck to your nose, before bringing you close and asking how you’ve been

•if she’s been gone for a long time on a mission, she’ll be a pain when you ask her to let go

•you love it though :,)

D.VA

•hugs hugs hugs hugs hugs hugs hugs hugs hugs

•she doesn’t really care much about big spoon or little spoon, she just wants to hold you and be in your presence

•after the whole shooting star incident, she’ll come back from the hospital and break down sobbing in your arms, as you cradle her close and gently chide her for being so reckless as she tells you how much she loves you

•she gets all mushy after missions

•when working on repairs she’ll drag you into the mech and just contort you both so you can cuddle comfortably

•she probably prefers being little spoon, but she just likes being around you

•often, you’ll be seen in her lap with her arms around you as she yells in her headset, furiously spamming buttons

•adores holding your hand

•mushy and romantic

MEI

•YALL ARE LUCKY YOURE EVEN GETTING HER OKAY I STRONGLY DISLIKE THIS WOMAN-

•little spoon

•biggest little spoon ever

•she’s very nice to cuddle, often wrapping her arms around your waist and resting her face against your collar bone

•will lazily talk about her ideas and her day, words beginning to slur together after a while

•even though she’s literally satan she’s very comfortable, especially when she’s wearing her famous coat

•some days you’ll just sit on the couch with her, both numb with exhaustion and tiredly sip at hot cocoa, her head on your shoulder, your’s placed on her head.

•but your hands are intertwined, and she’s with you, and that’s enough.

MERCY

•she’s a busy woman

•it’s hard to get her to sit down and cuddle at times, as she’ll be at her desk working desperately to get things done

•you practically have to drag her to bed at times because uhhh wow please stop working,,,

•but when you do cuddle, she’s very gentle

•strokes the back of your head and whispers reassuring words to you, and if you’re about to sleep she’ll sing you soft Swedish lullabies

•she rubs reassuring circles into your back, asks you about your day, somehow still pampering you even if she’s exhausted

•she loves you a lot and she wants you to know it :)

MOIRA

•big spoon

•just like mercy do you rlly expect her to have time for cuddling

•she’ll come home after a long day and find you asleep, and slowly snuggle into the sheets and just bring you close, wrapping her arms around you and just sighing

•she’s more affectionate when you’re not around to tease her about it

•vry strong and accidentally crushes you when she holds you

•she honestly prefers you just coming to her and sitting on her lap, she’s able to hold you and still get her work done

•also because she thinks its cute but she’s always been more practical than emotional

PHARAH

•hi I love her

•big spoon probably idk

•she’a the type to get flustered when you hold her hand

•she’s not very suave and literally loses it when you hug her because how are you so adorable and sweet??

•you were talking to Ana once, raving about how you couldn’t wait to meet her and how amazing Fareeha is and she was just watching with the biggest puppy dog eyes ever and Mercy was losing it

•Kay that was off topic moving on

•she likes holding you, hoisting you up so you’re at least to her collar bone so she can rest her chin on the top of your head

SOMBRA

•like Moira, she prefers you on her lap so she can work properly

•she always teases you and pretends your crushing her and then she apologizes and says that you’re lighter than a feather

•”el amado, you’re mas ligera que una pluma.”

•then she playfully boops you on the nose and affirms the fact you can never hurt her I mean,,,have you seen the modifications made into her spine?? like idk but that must’ve hurt lol

•anyways when she’s not working, she enjoys just resting on your stomach

•play with her hair, please. thank you <3

•it makes her feel much safer and more reassured that you’re here for her stupid antics and you’re willing to stay.

SYMMETRA

•not that into cuddling

•there are other ways she can express her affections, so she’s not too adamant about holding you

•she enjoys being little spoon though! holding her tightly sends butterflies into her stomach

•she will wrap her arms around your neck, allowing you to pull her close

•but that’s on rare occasions, she honestly just prefers tangling legs or subtle hand holding over blown out cuddle sessions.

TRACER

•she can’t sit still for very long, so if anything she prefers holding you bridal style and running all over the town with you!

•but if she gets all tired after a long day of working, she loves to have you in her arms, nuzzling your cheek with her’s

•can talk to you on hours on end, as you just nod and smile, playing with the tuffs of her hair as it’s four and and you can’t wait for her to begin falling asleep

•rests your head on her shoulder, tangles her legs with your’s, holds your hand, idk she just loves being around you!! She just likes being with you!! She just likes having you around

•she loves you so much :))