#me trying to find something comfortable to wear that won’t make me sweat or hurt if my stomach starts to anxious hurt

[heartual]

why isn’t it socially acceptable to wear pajamas to an 8am doctor’s appointment

[catch1ngmoths]

Hi ok so I was wondering if you can do a comfort fic with joost? Like joost sees readers past SH scars and reader really hates them and finds them disgusting but joost just kisses readers wrist and reader just starts bawling 😔🫶 if this makes u uncomfortable you don’t have to write it I won’t be upset! 🫶🫶🫶

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ STRAWBERRY GASHES⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

𝄞⨾“Watch me falter, Your living like a disaster. She said kill me faster with strawberry gashes all over” - jack off Jill𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋

Summary: you have self harm scars but you’ve never told your boyfriend, Joost. One day you forget about the scars and wear somthing that reveals them. Much to your surprise Joost isn’t as disgusted in them as you are.

Note: thank you for all the love on my last fic, I am currently running on….0 hours of sleep and it’s like 1pm where I live so I’m pretty exhausted so this will probably be my last fic for today unless I get bored! Also!! I see all y’all’s requests and even though I don’t respond right away doesn’t mean I’m ignoring them or don’t see them! I like to respond to the request with the fic so you won’t know I saw it until the actual fic comes out! ^_^

Warnings: SELF HARM TW!! other then that just comfort and fluff >~<

༘⋆₊ ⊹★🔭๋࣭ ⭑⋆｡˚ ༘⋆₊ ⊹★🔭๋࣭ ⭑⋆｡˚ ༘⋆₊ ⊹★🔭๋࣭ ⭑⋆｡˚

You and Joost had been together for a few months and everything was going great! He loved you more than anyone else ever could, even if they tried. He held you when you felt anxious or upset. Felt excited with you when you were happy and made sure you were always take care of. Always.

But there was one thing you hid from him, something that ate you alive every single day. Joost always questioned with a chuckle why you wore long sleeves in 90 degree weather but you just shrugged it off, saying you were always cold. That was a lie, you were sweating but you were also hiding something that’d hurt you a little more than a little sweat.

Your old sh scars. You struggled with it on a daily basis, sure they were old but they still managed to haunt you. You felt disgusted by yourself everytime you caught glimpses of them and you were sure Joost would too. I mean…who would want a partner that has scars like that.?

Today was the day you find out because being to caught up in excitement to hang out with Joost you forgot about the scars that littered your arms (or anywhere else, so so sorry to be so an inclusive ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀)) you put on a pair of your favorite shorts and shirt and head out the door to joosts place, not even looking twice.

Once you arrive, an equally excited Joost greats you and drags you to his room. You weren’t even thinking about it, so in love with your boyfriend to even care. He didn’t even notice either, finding every part of you perfect…until.

Until you lifted your arm in a certain way, that put your scars on full display. You noticed that Joost stoped mid speaking and looked over to him to see his face that was full of emotion that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It was a mix of sadness, confusion, fear, and shock.

You look at him confused until your eyes follow his that were deadpan staring right at your scars. You gasp softly and cover your scars, sitting up immediately. You felt ringing in your ears and your heart rate quickening. You lower your head and feel the tears of shame and embarrassment start to burn in your eyes.

You feel the touch of your beloveds soft fingertips grab your hand, interlocking y’all’s fingers and pulling your arm towards him. You keep your head down and squeeze your eyes shut trying to block everything out.

When you suddenly felt soft kisses on the places your scars were spread. Your eyes snap open and your head raises to look at Joost. He presses soft and gentle kisses on every.singe.scar. He makes sure to press 3 to each one for good measure.

Your heart feels heavy and you just burst into tears, Joost is close to tears as well. Once hes done you immediately jump into his arms, he strokes your back and whispers soft words of praise to you waiting for you to calm down.

Once you’re calmer, only small tears flowing down your wet cheeks he props you in his lap and holds you close. “I knew something was up when you kept wearing all those long sleeves..” he whispers almost kicking himself for not noticing sooner.

“I-I’m sorry… they’re old I promise!! A-and I just didn’t want you to see because they’re ugly and i just didn’t-” your cut off by a soft kiss being pressed to your lips. “Shh…you don’t have to give any explanation or reason unless you want to, okay?” He speaks with that signature smile that you loved so dearly

“You’re…you’re not disgusted.?” You ask looking up at him, he almost looks exasperated at your words. His eyes widening and mouth parting. “Disgusted.?! Why the hell would I be disgusted mijn geliefde, you’re so beautiful to me. Everything about you, even your scars.” He says with a soft smile and a kiss to your head.

“They’re gross, I ruined my skin and now they’re gonna be there forever…” you argue as you lower your head back down and play with his fingers, “so? Who cares, first of all they’re not gross, they’re not disgusting, you’re not ugly and will never be ugly. You’re not ruined and they just show how much of a fighter you are baby. Nothing to be ashamed about, promise.” He says interlocking your pinkies together

You smile and giggle softly, tears still staining your cheeks which Joost quickly kissed away making you laugh and push his head away, “Joost that tickles!!” You squeal as he smiles and peppers ticklish kisses over your face.

You knew no matter what you looked like or what happened or hell even what you went through he would always be there for you. He would forever and always be your biggest supporter. He loved you for you and nothing less.

[mysicklove-main]

Tanjiro Kamado hates your new perfume.

He watched Tengen’s three wives gift you the small bottle with confusion. It smelled nice, whatever the fragrance was exactly. Maybe it was air freshener or maybe it was just meant to be smelled straight out of the bottle.

But to the strong smelling boy’s horror, you sprayed it upon your skin. That recognizable, comforting scent he looks for when stuck in a crowd is now gone. Tarnished by that potent smelling liquid. He hates it immediately.

He even watched the way Nezuko, who also had a keen sense of smell due to her demon state, let out strange soft growls in confusion. It seemed to him that she also preferred your natural scent.

But how could he say anything when you look so happy spraying it on every morning. How you have a soft grateful smile on your face, while you take a deep breathe of the sweet smelling concoction.

So, for now he sits there with a strained smile on his face, waiting for it to slowly wear off throughout the day so he can be greeted with your familiar scent. He even goes as far to mention how strong and nice smelling your perfume is later in the day so you don’t feel the need to apply more. He does feel a little bad for lying.

“Isn’t this so much better, Tanjiro? I know you got a dogs nose, don’t you like it? Now you don’t have to smell me all sweaty after battle!” What is he supposed to say to that? That he likes what you smell like after harsh training? Yeah, and admit to being more of a pervert than Zenitsu. He’d rather not.

“Yep! Smells great, Y/N! Like flowers. And don’t worry about the sweat, I’m used to it!” He gives you that familiar bright smile and you kiss him on the cheek before heading out the door.

He stays in the room for a second longer, staring at the small bottle. He might as well be glaring at it. It makes him feel guilty, this was a present, and you liked it. He should have no right to feel so annoyed at the perfume.

But still, couldn’t this be a safety hazard? If your scent was covered how would he be able to find you as quickly as he does? What if it’s stronger than the smell of your blood? What if he doesn’t smell a demon because he is so distracted by how annoyed he is that your perfect scent is now ruined!

He has got to get rid of it. For the sake of his sanity and your protection.

He turns toward Nezuko who recently joined him in your room. “It’s a safety hazard, right Nezuko? I have to do something.”

She nods with a small huff and Tanjiro makes a decision. He is going to get rid of it. Cut the bottle into pieces if he must. It would be a lot more satisfying that way.

He pulls out his blade and points it to thinner part at the top where the spritzer is at. Just like a demon, he will cut the neck off and then it won’t hurt anyone anymore. He pulls his sword back to land the blow. “Tanjiro, I can make a promise that my perfume is not a demon.” You call, watching the whole situation take place as you lean against the wall with a grin.

He jumps out of his skin and turns to you with a guilt ridden face. “Y-Y/N what are you doing in here?” He asks meakly, his face flushed from embarrassment.

He catches a glance at Nezuko leaving the room. Betrayal.

“Looking for you. Heard you mention something about a safety hazard,” You hum, smug smirk on your mouth as you look toward the boy ahead of you.

“You see as someone apart of the Demon Slayer Corps it’s my sacred duty to protect you and everyone else from danger!” He reasons, knowing how ridiculous he sounds in the moment, but trying not to let it get to him.

You blink, raising your eyebrows. “My perfume is dangerous?”

He stumbles, mouth open to try to find any sort of reasoning. He fails. “Uh yes?”

“Why?”

“Because it’s you know…Distracting. Cant focus on killing demons with that smell around.”

You cock your head to the side in confusion. “Because it smells so good?”

“No! Because now I won’t be able to pick up your scent! What happens if you get lost or something and I can’t find you?”

“Alright, that makes sense. I’ll stop wearing it.”

He continues in a ramble, “And it ruins your scent! You smell way better without it. Seriously you can even ask Nezuko!” You raise your eyebrows at him. “How am i supposed to recognize if it’s you near me or some random person if you smell—Wait. You’ll stop wearing it?”

“Of course, if it makes you uncomfortable.” You respond and he feels his body deflate in relief. He was expecting that to be a lot harder considering how much you liked the perfume. He barely had to state his case.

He sighs and brings his sword back up to the neck of the bottle. “Okay good. Shall I behead it?”

You roll your eyes with a smile. “I have a better idea.” You say, before grabbing the bottle and dropping it in the nearest trash bin. You turn back to him with a cheery grin.

He lowers his sword with a slight blush realizing how he looked. “That was a tough one. Definitely a higher rank demon. So glad I had my dog nosed boyfriend to protect me,” You tease and he looks down and puts his sword away. You wrap your arms around his neck and smile at his embarrassed face.

He glances down at you. “Let’s run you a bath”

You frown. “Why?”

“I miss your scent,” He replies with that familiar loving expression. You almost laugh at how ridiculous he sounded, but held back knowing that he was being a hundred percent serious.

[redrose10]

Here is Chapter 6! Things are getting heated between the two. I appreciate the feedback and I hope you’re enjoying the story!

Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.

Word count: 4,322

Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing

After what seemed like forever you and Jimin were having a day together at his place. He put out a spread of various foods and drinks while the two of you talked and caught up with each other.

“How have things been between you and Yoongi?”

“Slightly better I guess. We have meals together sometimes and we talk a little more.”

“He doesn’t shut up about you at work.”

“What do you mean?”, you asked taking a bite of your dumpling.

Jimin giggled, “I don’t know, he’s just always asking about you. Like how you’re doing or if you mentioned anything about him. It’s kind of cute. Like a teenager with a crush.”

“I mean we live together and we’re already married. Why doesn’t he just ask me himself?”

“I don’t know. Yoongi’s always been kind of weird that way.”

“Oh yeah I completely forgot to tell you that he was livid last night about you introducing me to Taehyung. Said he was going to kill you and then fire you. I still don’t know why he got so upset about the whole thing.”

“Well because Taehyung is extremely handsome and also very straight forwardly friendly and kind. He’s a lot of what Yoongi isn’t and Yoongi knows that. I think he was a little worried you’d run off because he knows he wouldn’t stand a chance if Taehyung made a move on you.”

His words caused you to stop and think for a moment. Yoongi jealous? “I mean why would he care so much? I feel like he’s been trying to get rid of me since day one so Taehyung would just be doing him a favor.”

“I don’t know. I think he’s starting to come around a little. Maybe you’re slowly melting away at his ice cold heart.”

You remembered what Seokjin had told you about Yoongi coming around eventually.

“Yeah well tell that to all the women he already cheated on me with. I’m sure that’s still going on somehow.”

“Trust me I know. I’ve had many words with him about that. Now as far as I know he hasn’t been with any women in a couple months. He even transferred out one of his favorite interns because she wasn’t taking no for an answer and kept coming on to him.”

The laugh that you let out bellowed through the room, “Yeah okay. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

After finishing up all the food that was left and helping him clean up you said goodbye to Jimin and headed home. You felt better, lighter even, after spending the day with him. It was definitely something you needed. Getting home you were surprised to find Yoongi sitting on the couch watching a basketball game. He was dressed comfortably in sweats and a tshirt. It was off as you’ve alway seen him in expensive suits. Even his casual wear was usually still designer and well styled. You’ve never seen him look so plain before but he looked happier somehow.

When he noticed you he smiled and told you there was some takeout in the fridge that he had ordered for you just in case you were hungry.

You thanked him and headed off to your room wanting to take a hot shower and get ready for bed as you weren’t really hungry after eating at Jimins all day.

Just as you were about to get under the covers a soft knock appeared at your door. Yoongi was standing there holding a mug which he quickly handed over to you and you smiled at the warm milk staring back at you. You had a feeling that he wanted something more than to just bring you a glass of milk at 11pm.

Your instincts were right because he began to nervously scratched at the side of his neck, “So Y/N our first anniversary is coming up and I was wondering if maybe you would like to go on a trip with me. To celebrate. It’s okay if you don’t want to. I’d fully understand. I just thought maybe we could go somewhere or I don’t know. Again it’s okay if you don’t want to go. I haven’t planned anything yet. I just thought I’d ask to see what you’d say. It’s probably a dumb idea.”

At this point he was rambling so fast you could barely make out what he was saying. Maybe it was the fact that you were so tired or that you were still on a high from the great day you had with Jimin but you agreed. “Sure Yoongi. I’ll go with you. Sounds nice.”

You could see the tension leave his body as well as the surprised look on his face showing that he fully expected you to decline his offer. “Okay, I’ll let you know the details once I have them figured out.”

Nodding you shut the door and climbed in bed with your mind racing. Another week stuck on vacation with Yoongi. Something you had hoped you’d never have to go through again.

A few days went by and one day during dinner Yoongi had told you that the anniversary trip was going to be a surprise. All you needed to know was to pack comfy clothes and that he’d handle the rest.

Two weeks later you were in the passenger seat as Yoongi drove the two of you to your destination. While surprised that this trip didn’t involve a plane you were also excited as this meant you werent going to have to suffer in tropical hell again.

After a four hour car ride you pulled up in front of a large cabin.

“I know it’s not the Alps but I thought it would be nice to go somewhere more low key and quiet. I wanted a redo of our honeymoon since I had purposely picked somewhere I knew you’d hate.”

“I knew you did that on purpose.”, you smirked.

Yoongi opened the front door for you with the code he was given while he went back to the car to grab the bags. The cabin was what you’d always dreamed about. There was a large fireplace with a stack of wood ready to be burned sitting next to it. A big comfy couch adorned with fluffy blankets and pillows sat in front. The kitchen was massive and to your surprise already fully stocked with food. Making your way upstairs to the master bedroom you were excited to see a balcony.

Stepping out you were greeted with the most breath taking view you’d ever seen. Snow covered mountains were framed by tall and full pine trees. Off in the distance a family of deer ran through the snow. You felt like you were looking at a Christmas card. It was quiet and peaceful and everything you could hope for.

While taking in the beauty you didn’t notice Yoongi step out onto the balcony behind you. He startled you as he spoke, “Do you like it?” “Yeah it’s incredible.”, you smiled. It didn’t take long for him to violently start shivering which got a big laugh out of you even though he tried his best to hide it.

“Come on you big baby. Let’s go back inside.”

Once back in the warmth of the cabin Yoongi told you to take a shower or a nap or whatever you wanted and he’d start on dinner.

You opted for a nice hot bath letting the water soothe you. The lavender oil provided by the host adding a nice comforting touch. When you were cleaned and changed into some comfy clothes you went down to the bottom level finding that Yoongi had built a fire and was just putting the finishing touches on the meal.

You both ate quietly before you grabbed a blanket and went to the couch to watch a movie while he cleaned up before joining you. There was an awkward feeling in you. Even though the two of you were married you’d never really spent quality time like this together. You weren’t sure if you should sit right next to him or maybe on the other side of the couch but is that too awkward? Should you share a blanket or get him his own? Let him pick the movie or should you? You felt kind of ridiculous because it shouldn’t be so hard to watch a movie with your husband but at the same time it’s Yoongi.

You wrapped yourself up in the fluffy green blanket and decided to just take a seat on the right side of the couch and let him make the next move. Yoongi walked in a few minutes later handing you a mug of warm milk before taking a seat on the other end of the couch.

“I already chose a movie. I hope that’s okay. It’s one I’ve been wanting to see for a while.”, he said.

“Yeah sure that’s fine.”, you shrugged secretly happy that you wouldn’t have to awkwardly try to pick something together.

After he clicked play you chuckled when you heard the familiar music.

“Seriously Harry Potter?”, you asked.

“Yeah I’ve never seen it before and I’ve been told I resemble one of the characters so I thought we’d check it out.”

Snuggling in deeper to your blanket you smiled and began to watch as the movie unfolded.

The two of you made it through the first movie and decided to also get through the second when about half way through you felt a sudden chill. Since you’d planned to go to bed after this movie you stopped adding wood to the fire and it was noticeably colder in the room. Looking over you noticed the goosebumps climbing up Yoongi’s arm and you realized he was without a blanket.

Knowing that you were probably going to regret it later you scooted over so you were sitting closer to him. Not touching but close enough that you could share your blanket so you reached over and placed half on his lap.

“Here you look cold.”

“Thank you.”, he said with a smile and pulled the blanket up to cover himself.

Once the movie was over and after a passionate review on his part you made your way upstairs when the realization hit you. This cabin only had one bed. Yoongi who was not far behind you stopped when he noticed you standing there.

“Oh um how are we going to sleep tonight? I mean with only one bed?”, you asked.

“Well I thought we could share the bed together. Sorry I guess I should’ve asked you first. I can sleep down on the couch if you’re uncomfortable.”

For a second you really did consider making him sleep on the couch but ultimately decided that the bed was big enough for the two of you to comfortably share.

After completing your nightly routines you got in bed leaving a healthy space between the two of you. Both on your backs staring up at ceiling in silence until Yoongi spoke.

“Red”

You looked over at him with furrowed brows, “I’m sorry, what?”

Not removing his eyes from the spot on the ceiling he continued, “My favorite color is red. When we first went on a date you asked me and I made a sarcastic remark instead of telling you so I’m telling you now.”

You hummed.

“I also do really like to drink whiskey but if I had to choose I would never pass up a glass of ice cold chocolate milk.”

You snorted and he laughed, “You have no room to make fun of me Miss Mug of Warm Milk Before Bed.”

“I love basketball and music. Those are my interests. Growing up I wanted to be a music producer maybe even a rapper but my parents put a stop to that and made sure I would be set up to take over the company instead. Sometimes I regret that I let them stop me. Maybe I’d be a happier person if I went against their wishes.”

“I think you’re pretty good at what you do though. I mean you seem successful. But you should definitely rap for me one day. I’d pay to hear that.”

“I don’t think you could handle my lyrics.”, he said causing you both to erupt into laughter.

After a while of silence he continued, “Y/N I want to apologize for the way I treated you this first year. I know these are just words and you’re going to need a lot more than that from me but I’m going to do my best.”

“I heard from Jimin that you haven’t been hooking up with other women any more. Is that true?”

“Mmhm yeah it is. I haven’t been with anyone in a couple months.”

“Can I ask you another question?”, you asked.

“Go for it.”

“Why were you so determined to make this marriage miserable?”

He let go of a long sigh, “Well it’s kind of a long story. But uh when I was sixteen I met this girl, Mia. After a few months I finally worked up the courage to ask her out and she said yes. We dated for a while and when we were nineteen I wanted to propose. We were young but I knew I loved her more than anything in this world and I wanted to spend my life with her because there’d never be anyone else that I could possibly love that much. She was my everything. So I had this big elaborate proposal planned. She thought I was out of town on a business trip but I had lied about that and I left her a note in our apartment telling her to meet me on the rooftop of our building and I had the whole area decorated with roses and there was a dinner planned and I had a piano set up to play her a song that I wrote and then I’d get down on one knee. But after she was like 45 minutes late I went down to the apartment to see what was going on and she didn’t even read the note because she was too busy fucking some guy in our bed. Then she confessed that she’d been cheating on me the entire relationship and was only with me for the money and perks of my family. So after that I swore I’d never love anyone ever again. If I don’t love anyone then they can’t possibly hurt me like that. So after I met you I wanted you to hate me and treat me like you hated me because then I’d never fall for you but no matter what I did you’d still always be kind and be there waiting for me and putting in effort to make this work. I found myself starting to realize that maybe not everyone is out to just use me and that someone could actually love me.”

You sat in silence trying to find the right words. “I’m sorry Yoongi. That did sound like a really nice proposal though. A lot better than here’s this contract, sign on the dotted line like mine.”

He chucked, “Nah looking back it was pretty cheesy anyways. Maybe one day I’ll give you the proposal you deserve.”

“Okay but I want a song. And there better be a rap verse.”

“Deal. Any thing for you.”

The room fell into a silence after that.

“Anything you’d like to ask me?”, you questioned with a smile wanting to change the subject.

“Nope” he said but thankfully you could hear the playful smile in his voice.

“What is your family like?

You knew he was trying to ask about the orphanage thing without directly bringing it up so you decided to just spill it.

“Umm well my parents were great from what I remember. They were killed in a car accident when I was around five. Then I lived with my Aunt Erica until I was eight when she passed away from cancer. No one else in my family was willing or able to take me in so I was sent to live in an orphanage which is where I stayed until I turned eighteen. Then I met Jimin in college and we became really good friends. When he moved away I was pretty much on my own until I came here. So I guess we’re both just a couple broken hearted people, just in different ways.”

He didn’t respond right away and you weren’t sure if maybe you said too much until he spoke again.

“I’m really sorry Y/N. No one should have to go through something like that. I wish I could take away that pain.”

“It’s alright. Nothing can change it now.”

The two of you talked for a little while longer until finally falling asleep feeling a little closer.

The following day Yoongi took you sightseeing through the little mountain town. You ate lunch at a very cute cafe owned by the sweetest elderly woman who recognized Yoongi and kept gushing about how out of all the places to eat he chose her cafe. She even made him take a photo with her to hang on the wall. The woman wrapped her arms around his mid section clinging to him for dear life while completing how toned he felt which caused Yoongi to turn a shade of red you didn’t think was possible for a person. You got a good kick out of it at least.

After getting back to the cabin you changed out of your snow soaked clothes and agreed to continue watching the next Harry Potter film as a continuation of the night before. This time though without thinking you sat down next to Yoongi and immediately covered both of you with the blanket before grabbing the tray of cookies and various pastries he had bought at the cafe earlier. He gave you a smile before taking one of the cookies in his mouth.

You guys got through two more movies before deciding to call it a night and getting into bed.

When you fell asleep you were on opposite sides of the bed. So you were extremely confused when you woke up a couple hours later and Yoongi was now spooning you while holding you as close against him as you could get. His arms tightly wrapped around your waist as his breath tickled the back of your neck.

Part of you wanted to scramble out of the bed and get as far away from him as you could but another part of you was really enjoying the warmth and comfort of being in his arms.

You tried to distance yourself and push away from him a little but his arms only snaked around you tighter pulling you back.

In your attempt to push away you may have accidentally stirred something in him. Slowly he began placing kisses along the back of your neck and down your shoulder. His hand running down the side of your hip before his fingers began dancing on your thighs. Your body seemed to melt into him.

“Yoongi”, you whispered trying to get a better grasp of what his intentions were. Maybe he was just dreaming you thought. He placed another two kisses to the back of your neck, “Is this okay? I’ll stop if you want.” You really thought about it. Your heart was telling you no but your brain and the rest of your body was saying yes. “You really haven’t slept with anyone else in the last couple months?”, you questioned. “I swear on everything.”, he answered.

Turning over to face him you suddenly felt an extreme wave of nervousness come over you.

“We don’t have to do anything if you’re not comfortable Y/N.”

You nodded, “I want to.”

He kissed your lips before adjusting himself to be on top of you. He began placing kisses along your neck past your collarbone. His hands reaching for the hem of your night shirt lightly gripping the edge. “Can I?”, he asked. You nodded slightly sitting up so he could pull the shirt off you.

“You really are beautiful Y/N.”, he said as his hands traced over your body.

As the kisses between you became more and more intense and his hands seemed to have more courage you felt him begin push himself against you and any apprehension you had went away. It had been so long since you’d been touched like this and you wanted him bad.

The rest of your clothes were removed as were his and your bodies reconnected like a magnet had pulled you two together. Whether it was the fact that it had been so long for you or the way that he took his time making sure to pleasure every inch of your body, it was the best and also most intense experience you had ever had.

Afterwards he pulled you close against him while you both tried to slow down your rapid breathing. He placed another kiss to your shoulder before nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. Just before he fell asleep you heard the faintest whisper, “I love you Y/N.”

After that you had a hard time falling asleep. Things in your relationship were moving a little too fast for your liking. This is what you had always hoped for and what you had always wanted but after everything that had happened with him you knew you would have to move forward carefully.

Having fallen asleep at some point you were woken up when Yoongi began moving and got out of the bed making his way to bathroom. A few minutes later the shower kicked on so you sat up stretching in the bed to wait your turn.

The nightstand next to you kept vibrating and you saw Yoongi’s phone laying face down.

Every few seconds

*Buzz*

*Buzz*

*Buzz*

You started to get annoyed but then you worried that something may be wrong. You grabbed his phone preparing to knock on the bathroom door when you happened to glance at the phone screen. There were several texts and missed calls nothing that concerned you as he was a busy guy after all. Until something red caught your eye. A text from someone name Suri. In the text a photo of a woman dressed in a barely there red lace lingerie set. You thought back to Yoongi telling you his favorite color was red. The text included with the photo is what caused the room to spin around you.

“Last week was amazing. Can’t wait to see you again. I went out and got a new outfit for you and in red just like you like it. Maybe don’t rip this one. ♥️😘”

After tossing the phone onto the bed you grabbed your suitcase and started throwing all of your belongings into it. You felt sick. You felt like crying. You felt like throwing something. He lied to you. He lied to you before, during, and after.

Yoongi unknowing of the events that just transpired came walking out of the bathroom towel drying his hair. “Y/N I think we should go back to that cafe for breakfast, they had a croissant sandwich I think you’ll really like, and then maybe walk down to that lake it looked really nic-.” He stopped when he saw you stuffing your bag.

“What are you doing?”

You looked up at him with a tear stained face.

“Y/N what happened? Did someone do something to you?”

“Yeah Yoongi, You!! I can’t believe you. What kind of sick game are you playing? Just when I thought you were changing for the better. That maybe deep down you were a good person and not a self centered jerk.”

“Y/N what’s going on? I don’t understand what happened?”

“Oh cut the bullshit Yoongi. You know if you wanted to just use me for sex we could’ve stayed at home and hate fucked each other or something. You didn’t have to bring me out here and make me think you were actually falling in love with me.”

“Y/N I do love you and I have been trying to change. I’m trying to show you that.”

“Fuck you Yoongi. I’m not doing this any more. Next time you need someone to stick your dick into go ahead and call Suri. It looks like she’s replaced the lingerie set that you ripped LAST WEEK! It’s a cute one too. I was even thinking about getting something similar last night but now at least I don’t have to waste money on it.”

Yoongi took a step forward to try and reach out to you but you put your hands up to separate yourself.

“Y/N nothing happened with her. I swear. I know it looks back but let me explain.”

“Save it.”

Before you grabbed the door handle you stopped and turned to face him, “You know I actually felt really bad for you after you told me about Mia and what she did to you. I understood how you could be the way that you are and I was 100% committed to trying to forgive you and move on with a loving happy marriage. But now, I don’t know if I can ever truly love you Yoongi.”

You slammed the door behind you and stormed out of the house. Thankfully the bus station wasn’t too far of a walk and the cold air gave you a chance to calm down anyways and also have an excuse as to why your face was so red. After buying a ticket you took a seat on a bench near the window to wait for your bus. You really wished you would’ve taken a shower before storming out of the cabin. The smell of cinnamon and vanilla heavily staining your skin, a painful reminder of your mistake from the night before.

[sixhours]

Chapter 15 - The Ghosts of Babylon

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut and violence Series tags: Joel Miller x You, Joel Miller x Reader, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, LGBTQ+ characters, y/n is bi/pan, y/n is ~45, violence, pregnancy, abortion, medical trauma, emotional trauma, panic attacks, sex work, suicide, smut, slow burn, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, romance, no use of y/n, reader has longish hair, Joel can lift you, smallish age gap (~11 years), I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

~*~

You’re walking back from lunch at the mess hall when you see Ellie standing outside the clinic, looking lost. Her eyes widen when she sees you coming and she steps out to meet you at the door.

“Ellie? What’s wrong?”

“M’sick.”

She looks pale, a fine sheen of sweat on her brow. You press your wrist to her forehead, finding it warm. 

“Come in, let’s check you out. Does Joel know you’re here?”

She shakes her head, looking wan.

You reach for the walkie on your belt. “I’ll radio–”

“No!” The girl stops halfway through the door, looking up at you with wide eyes.  “Don’t. He thinks I’m in school.”

You narrow your eyes. “He’s not going to be upset at you for being sick.”

She shakes her head furiously. “Just…can you please not tell him?”

“Ellie, I can’t–”

She rolls her eyes, looking like she’s about to cry. “Fine. But…can you just wait? Please?”

You bite your lip. “Let’s go talk.”

You lead the way to the back of the clinic and set her up in the exam room, closing the door behind you.

She hisses when you move to take her right wrist to check her pulse. When you look into her face, she won’t meet your eyes.

“Ellie…did something happen?”

Her lashes are heavy, her breaths shallow and fast.

“Let me see,” you whisper.

She swallows hard, then grimaces as she pulls up her sleeve to reveal a patch of dirty gauze pressed to her inner forearm. The bandage sticks to her skin when you try to remove it, and Ellie makes a pained whimpering noise as you pull it from the wound. The place where her scar used to be is an angry pink splash of bubbled skin in an almost perfect rectangle. It’s a second-degree chemical burn, blistered and oozing, clearly infected.

You sit back, searching the girl’s face. “Did you do this?”

Ellie doesn’t answer.

“What did you use?”

No answer.

“Look, you need to tell me,” you say, trying to soften your voice. “I don’t want to try to treat it and do something that will make it worse.”

“Cleaner,” she says softly. “Found it in the supply closet at school.”

“When?”

She shrugs. “A few days ago.”

The clinical part of you admires the fact that she’s not writhing in agony, that she managed to hide it from Joel and her teachers and friends for so long–she probably would have succeeded if it hadn’t gotten infected.

“I can give you antibiotics for the fever and we have aloe for the burn. It’s probably going to scar. But…I’m guessing that was the idea?”

Her silence tells you everything.

“Are you frequently in the habit of harming yourself?”

Ellie snorts softly. “No.”

“Then what provoked this?”

She gives you a long look as if you should know the answer.

“And Joel doesn’t know,” you say more softly, a statement, not a question.

She shakes her head, lower lip trembling. “He’s gonna kill me.”

“Let’s get you some antibiotics, I’ll take you home…then we’ll figure out what to do about your dad.”

~*~

You give Ellie a shot of penicillin and re-dress the burn, then let Shiela know you’re taking the girl home. Ellie drags her feet down Rancher Street, visibly tired and in pain but not eager to get there.

You send her upstairs as soon as you cross the threshold. “I’ll bring up some Tylenol in a few minutes. That should help with the fever.”

When you pad upstairs a few minutes later with a glass of water and two white pills, Ellie is sitting up in her bed wearing one of Joel’s gray T-shirts as a nightshirt. The sleeves go down to her elbows, the collar stretched over one shoulder. The white bandage on her arm stands out against her pale skin.

You sit on the edge of the bed and watch as she takes the Tylenol with a gulp of water. She regards you warily, pulling her knees to her chest under the blankets.

“You’re gonna tell him, aren’t you,” she mumbles, not a question.

“The school radios your guardian when you don’t show up. He probably already knows.”

“Oh…right.”

“So will you tell me why you did it?” you ask softly.

She considers you miserably. “I was with Dina…we were…um…and she…I wouldn’t…couldn’t take my, uh…my shirt…”

Her face flames red, her fingers picking at the skin around her cuticles until it bleeds. You reach over, gently separating her hands so she can’t make a bad situation worse.

“M’tired of being a fuckin’ freak,” she whispers, wrapping her arms around her legs and pressing her forehead into her knees.

“Ellie, does Joel know that you and Dina are…?”

She shrugs, then shakes her head, ducking her face into the sleeve of her shirt to wipe her eyes.

You remember your father calling your relationship “that lesbian phase” and how he insisted on introducing Joanna as your “friend” to extended family at holiday parties. Your father, well-mannered in his sharp suits and ties, couldn’t fathom why his baby girl would choose such a life for herself.

And then there’s Joel–rugged and gritty in flannel and plaid, an all-American man’s man–and you can’t blame her for thinking he’d see things one way. But he didn’t balk at your past and has never said an unkind word about your inclinations. You open your mouth to tell her as much, but you’re interrupted by the sound of the front door creaking on its hinges.

“Ellie! You here?”

Joel’s voice booms up the stairwell. He’s back from patrol, her name on his lips laced with panic.

“Here comes the firing squad,” she mutters.

“I’ll talk to him,” you sigh, closing her bedroom door behind you as he storms up the stairs. His eyes widen with dread when he sees you waiting for him on the landing.

“What happened? Got a call on the radio, said she missed school–”

“She’s fine. She’s resting.”

He tries to go around you, but you put up a hand and he all but crashes into it, pressing his chest into your palm. He glares at you in disbelief, jaw tightening as his concern turns to anger.

“What are you–”

“Joel, stop,” you say, in the tone you reserve for unruly patients. “She has a minor infection. I gave her antibiotics. She’s going to be fine.”

“An infect–what? Swear to god if that Jesse kid did anythi–”

“It’s not that kind of infection.”

“Then tell me what the fuck is goin’ on,” he growls.

“Christ, Miller. She needs a father right now. Not an attack dog,” you say, trying to keep your voice low. “If you can’t do that, you need to turn around and get that shit out of your system.”

His nostrils flare as you stare him down. You can feel the press of his breastbone against your palm, warm and heaving. For a second, you think he’s going to throw a punch, and part of you thinks you’d like to see him try.

Then the pressure on your wrist relents as he takes a step back, breathing hard.

“You good?”

“M’fine,” he says through gritted teeth. “M’good.”

“Alright.”

He sags into the doorframe when he sees her, curled on her side under the blanket, facing you both.  

“Ellie?” he clears his throat. “What, uh, happened?”

She looks at him, then back at you. You nod.

Show him.

She sits up, grimacing as she pulls back the fresh bandage to expose her forearm.

You watch his fists clench and unclench at his sides, and that far-off look drifts into his eyes. You find yourself moving closer, ready to step between them. Then he’s kneeling by the bed, taking her elbow in one large hand, careful not to touch the blistered skin.

“Does it hurt?” he whispers, voice cracking a little.

Ellie nods.

He swallows hard, tenderly replacing the bandage. He looks into her eyes. “Why?”

“I don’t want to hide anymore,” she whispers.

He considers this for a long time, then, without a word, gets up and leaves the room. You and Ellie make eye contact as his bootprints sound on the stairs and the front door slams.

“Wow, I feel so much fuckin’ better,” she groans.

“Rest,” you sigh. “He’ll come around.”

She gives you a look of bitter unbelief, then turns on her side and flops down, pulling the covers over her head.

You find him on the porch, hands gripping the railing like a lifeline. You can see the clench of his muscles under the sweat-soaked back of his T-shirt.

“That was good,” you say dryly. “She still thinks you’re mad at her…but points for not raising your voice.”

He snorts like a bull, rolling his eyes to the heavens.

“Look, I know we’re not supposed to talk about her scar–”

“Stop,” he says. It comes out as a plea, not a demand.

“...but I don’t think it’s about that,” you continue. “Not entirely.”

“S’that why she tried to burn the fuckin’ thing off?” he growls.

You shake your head. “She’s…different, Joel. And I don’t mean the scar.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

You fold your arms, cock your head. “I don’t think you know as much as you think you do. I think you’ve been so focused on her safety that you haven’t been listening to what she’s trying to tell you.

“She’s scared, Joel. She grew up in a military prison for children. She doesn’t know who she is, and she can’t figure it out because she’s terrified she won’t be who you need her to be.”

He stares at you, dumbfounded, muttering, “I don’t need her to be anything–”

“Every time you look at her, she worries you’re seeing your dead daughter.”

It’s a blunt weapon, and it lands like one. He sags back against the railing with so much hurt in his eyes, breath leaving his lungs in a wounded huff.

“I don’t know what happened out there,” you continue, gesturing beyond the walls. “But whatever it was…I think you need her more than she needs you…and that scares the shit out of you.”

 His jaw clenches.

“I’ve…never denied that,” he grates out after a long pause. “But I never ever saw her as less than whole. Never. Ellie is her own person…and she’s just as much a part of me…as…as Sarah was.”

There’s a heavy silence, with only the sound of his breathing and the crickets singing in the grass.

“I’m not the one who needs to hear it,” you say softly.

He closes his eyes, wincing, the pain flashing across his stoic face before he can button himself back up. You resist the urge to reach for him, to comfort him, because you know he won’t have it. You settle for putting a hand on his shoulder as you make for the stairs.

“I’ve got to get back. Just…listen to her. And tell her the truth.”

[buckys-little-belle]

Hii, I’m obsessed with Hellfire Babysitting Club. It’s definitely a go to comfort read for me:)

My favorite trope is hurt/comfort, and I was wondering if you could write a chapter where little terror has been having trouble sleeping at night because they’re scared of monsters, and sometimes Eddie gets really descriptive with his campaigns, and little terror has been having nightmares about the campaigns recently, but doesn’t want to tell Eddie because they don’t want him to feel bad, and one day in a meeting little terror falls asleep on the floor or something and wakes up with a nightmare, and tells Eddie what has been happening, and a lot of fluff and comfort ensues, and Eddie gets Steve/Robin/Nancy to babysit whenever possible, or gets little terror some noise canceling headphones and they color and wear the headphones while the boys play D&D, so they won’t hear anything and get scared.

Sorry, I know it’s long haha.

Hellfire Babysitting Club (Part Ten)

Nightmare

Eddie Munson x Little!Reader (They/Them Pronouns Used) / Hellfire Club x Little!Reader (They/Them Pronouns Used)

Warnings - Talks of dragons, nightmares, Terror eats a cookie, talks of food, talks of sleeping, issues with sleeping, non descriptive explanations of nightmares.

Notes - Honestly this made me scream and want to write for this group again, I love them so much, and this request is cute and I just had to write it. This really isn’t that long though, please know that.

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW.

- - - - - -

The club had gathered around the table, everyone on their edge of their seats, Eddie stood with a knowing smile. A dragon enemy had just been introduced in this campaign, the group weary and worried about its strength, Eddie excited for the group to defeat it. Y/n sat next to Eddie, in their usual seat, slightly intrigued by the new character, but also trying to drown out Eddie’s words, hoping that the scary creature wouldn’t sneak it’s way into their dreams that night.

“There’s no way out boys, he’s got you surrounded by a ring of fire, what’s you next move?” Eddie laughed, adding a dramatic flare by acting as if the boys were doomed, making them sweat in their seats.

The group conversed, but Y/n just whispered to Eddie that they needed to go to the bathroom, a lie, an escape, but he let them go, reminding them about the pea sized soap drop rule, not a whole handful. They nodded, quickly walking out of the room, looking back at the group before wandering off.

- - - - - -

Y/n had been able to escape the meetings every time something scary happened, going to the bathroom, their locker, a short walk, you name it, Y/n had escaped to do it. Though today was different, their seat seemed especially comfortable, their eyes drooping the more they sat, Eddie’s voice lulling them to sleep.

When they had fallen asleep, their mouth slightly open, the group had coed at them, finding Terror a blanket and draping it over them and the chair to keep them warm. Their peaceful sleep didn’t last long, their body shifting in the seat every once in a while with a murmur or sigh, Terror finally awoken with a start when their nightmare became too much. “AH.” They yelled, their eyed taking in their surroundings, blanket long forgotten on the floor.

“Fairy? Eddie questioned, the group all focused on Y/n’s trembling body. “What’s wrong?”

“‘s jus’ scary.” Y/n mumbled back, picking the blanket back up, looking to their lap, avoiding his eyes.

“What’s scary? Your dream?” Eddie placed a comforting hand on Y/n’s back, disregarding the campaign for a second.

“Mhm.” They responded, not wanting to look at Eddie, not wanting to hurt his feelings. “An’ the stories.” They admitted, looking to Eddie then looking away.

Eddie’s face dropped, of course his campaigns were scary, he tried to make them that way, but he never even thought about Y/n and the fact that when little they could be a lot scarier than intended. “I’m sorry.” He sighed.

“‘s okay.”

“Is that why you keep leaving half way through?” He asked, the boys around them letting out a few ‘oh’s in realization.

“I din’ wan’ you t’stop, i’s your club ‘n I don’ wan’ a be a bother.” They rambled, looking to the boys and Eddie with an apologetic look.

“You’re not a bother.” Eddie said, his hands cupping their face now so they looked at him. “We can figure something out so you don’t get scared okay?”

“I have some headphones at home.” Mike spoke up. “That cancel noise so you don’ hear anything.”

“Those could work.” Eddie smiled, proud of his group for being helpful.

“I could call Steve too.” Dustin spoke up. “Him and Robin are always talking about how they miss having kids around.”

“That’s another great idea.” Eddie’s smiled had grown again, Y/n’s features relaxing at the boy’s reaction, no one was mad, in fact they jumped to their rescue, true knights in shining armour.

- - - - - -

The group had a schedule in place, Y/n sat in the room with headphones on and colouring pages strewn in front of them one week, a cookie in hand as they coloured in happy silence. And the next week they would get picked up by Steve and Robin, getting to go on adventures of their own with them, the movie store, the park, all sorts of fun field trips.

Y/n knew the boys always had their back, no matter what, but it was reassuring to see them come to their rescue, just like they did while playing, the boys true characters shining through.

[missmonsters2]

today I feel awful... idk my insecurities are taking over me and I just want to curl into a ball and cry. maybe it's my hormones maybe the fact that I weighted myself and found out I gained weight (I can't fit into my jeans 😭) and the fact that I saw my sister in a tight skin dress looking perfect while I'm in my pj's just destroyed my confidence. I need something angsty to read to make me forget about my sad, miserable lffe right now. would you be down in writing sth angsty with nat maybe? you don't have to though. it's fine either way. I really appreciate all of your work and I keep reading on repeat whenever I'm feeling down. makes me cheer up. thank you, van ❤️

It's like we're the same person because I also went to visit my sister recently and my sister has gotten her life together and is living her best hot girl bod while I...let's not go there.

I just want you to know that you're hot as fuck and a body is just a body that we can change with time and effort. We're lit rally in this together. This time next year, we will be rocking the body that makes up happy and we'll be healthy!!! 💘💘

But I will still give you nat angst...but with a happy ending bc I said you deserve a HEA!!

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The Withers of Springtime Bloom

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spring is a time of blooming and when things come back to life. You can't help but notice things that may be causing your relationship with Natasha to wither.

Warnings: self-esteem issues, insecurities about body, relationship with working out and food, seasonal depression. angst with HEA.

Count: 2.1k~

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You're not sure when things changed.

Things change so slowly after all.

Without you noticing, things change and change and change until one day, you do notice.

You notice that Natasha has become quieter, somber.

You notice the lack of date nights and affectionate touches.

You notice that you've let yourself go a little.

You're standing in front of the mirror, staring at your body with a frown. You've gained weight since dating Natasha, but relationship weight gain was normal, wasn't it?

But you remember how Natasha was just as fit as she was before she met you. Sure, she was a superhero, and you were a regular civilian; there was no reason for you to train long hours as Natasha did.

Still...

You turn to the side and peer at yourself in the mirror again.

You can't help but wonder...were you becoming less attractive to her?

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It had been the beginning of fall when you met Natasha. You loved the season of change and when things turned into warm colors before withering away for winter to come.

Natasha had come like a blessing, and in the winter, she was just warm as the colors of fall. Instead of withering away, she bloomed and invested that warmth in your relationship with her.

Despite always being an early riser to work out, weekends were the days she stayed in bed with you just a little longer. There had been so many breakfasts, lunch, and dinner dates. You found yourself moving things around or neglecting to work around her busy schedule.

Perhaps that was when things began to change. Eating out so often and forgoing working out to spend time with Natasha was what led to this.

Spring has arrived, and things are coming back to life. Yet somehow, your relationship with Natasha was withering away.

"Hey," you greet her as you come home, shopping bags in hand. You bought some more clothes when things felt like they didn't fit comfortably anymore. The experience had been upsetting for you, and you didn't end up buying too much, telling yourself you didn't want to spend too much when you were going to lose the weight.

Natasha was working in her office, peering down over reports, and barely acknowledged you other than with a hum.

"Long day?" You ask her as you put your things away and walk over to her.

"Yeah," Natasha sighed. "Trying to get these reports done since Maria needs them tomorrow."

That had been Natasha's excuse for spending long hours in her office every night for the last two weeks.

You place your hand on Natasha's shoulder with a reassuring squeeze, but she leans to the side as if to readjust herself, but still away from your touch.

The sting immediately comes, but you try to push it down, so it doesn't hurt as bad.

"Right," you say hoarsely, but Natasha stares on at the reports. "I'm just going to get ready for bed. It's been a long day and all. Let me know if you need anything."

Natasha gives you a nod as you leave the room. You feel awkward as you lie in the bed you share with her. You wonder if you're taking up too much space.

There's a pang of something as you try to curl yourself to be smaller and only distantly realizing you've skipped dinner before you fall asleep.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You fall back onto the mat, chest heaving and your lungs burning.

It's been a while since you've worked out, and now you're definitely paying for it with how unfit you are.

The gym is moderately empty with the hour it is. You hate going to a public gym because it always feels like someone is staring, but it's better for strangers to stare than working out at the Compound for people you know to stare at you.

The rational part of you knows that you should just talk to Natasha, but the emotional side of you whispers that you won't like what Natasha has to say, that she might even end it before you've had a chance to change yourself.

When weeks pass, and you weigh yourself again, you almost start crying because you've only lost a couple of pounds.

It's normal, you know it is. You're losing weight at a normal rate, but it's not enough. You know fast weight loss wouldn't make sense for your body but you also feel you don't have half a year to go back to your normal weight.

You sit on the bathroom floor for hours, debating what to do when you hear a quiet knock.

"Sweetheart, are you in there?" Natasha's muffled voice comes through.

You wipe at your eyes furiously as you stand up.

"Y-Yeah," you answer back. "I'm just in the tub soaking."

There's a moment of silence through the door before Natasha answers back, "Alright. Enjoy yourself. Did you want me to order anything specific for dinner?"

"No, it's okay," you tell her. "You order anything you want. I already ate on my way home." You think about the chicken salad you've been eating for the past two weeks and almost sigh.

Natasha answered that she just came back to see if you've eaten, but she actually had to head back to the Compound. You were Natasha shuffling around before leaving through the front door, and you let out the breath you were holding.

You actually take a long, hot shower before putting on sweats and a big hoodie.

The truth was, you were hungry. The chicken salad was okay on the way home, but it had been a couple of hours since.

You knew starving yourself wasn't the answer, so you went into the kitchen to see if you could find something healthy to hold you over until you could go to bed.

But you can't find anything in the fridge except for Natasha's leftovers from whatever she ordered the day before. You can't find anything except frozen pizzas and microwavable foods.

You check the calories on the back and let out a frustrated sigh. Checking your watch, you realize it's too late in the evening to go grocery shopping because, by the time you get there, stores will have closed.

You slump down on the floor, leaning against the cabinets as you let out a pathetic whimper while your eyes became hot with tears.

You miss Natasha. You want Natasha holding you and telling you it would be okay. But you couldn't have that until you were back to what you were when you met her.

The front door suddenly opens.

"Have you seen my—sweetheart?" Natasha started to call before she noticed you sitting on the floor. "What's wrong?"

You use your sleeve to wipe at your eyes as you sit up straight.

"Nothing," you sniffle before you start to stand. "I just stubbed my toe against the edge of the kitchen island. What were you looking for? USB? You left it next to the bedside."

Natasha stares at your back, hair still wet as she takes in your attire.

"It's a little hot to be wearing a hoodie and sweats, isn't it?" Natasha asks softly. "Doesn't seem like you turned on the aircon in here."

You keep walking, but Natasha starts to follow you.

"'m cold," you say quietly so she can't hear the tremble in your voice.

"Are you feeling sick?" Natasha asks with concern as you sit down on the couch, turning on the TV. You pull the blanket over you as if to make your point.

"No," you tell her because you don't want her to worry. "Just cold after a bath."

Natasha sets her things down before she takes a seat next to you. Even in the low lighting, she can see your eyes rimmed red and dampness of them.

You're refusing to look at her as you have your knees drawn up to your chest and stare stubbornly at the TV screen.

Then she hears it.

Your stomach grumbles.

"Are you hungry, sweetheart?" Natasha asks softly again. "We can just order food and stay in tonight."

Your cheeks grow hot. "Don't you have to be at the Compound?"

You don't mean to snap at her, but you can't help but feel embarrassed.

Natasha remains quiet for a moment, quickly thinking over the last few weeks before she feels guilt trickle in.

She doesn't remember the last time she ate with you—doesn't remember the last time she saw you eat.

"Sweetheart," she calls you gently again, and you bristle at the tone. "Is there something wrong?"

The fragile dam you've built to keep the weeks of compiling emotions at bay breaks, and you're hurtling down the stream over the waterfall.

"Are you not in love with me anymore?" You choke out as you begin to cry.

You can't even register to feel horrified at your breakdown because you just need to know.

"I know...I know my body has changed since we first met and I've gained weight but I really am trying to lose it. I just—I feel like you're avoiding me. At first, I thought things at work have been really stressful for you, and I wanted to give you space but you're gone all the time. You're gone even when you're here."

Natasha can barely understand anything you've said after hearing you say the first part. Her breath hitches painfully in the back of her throat, and she legitimately feels appalled at herself.

She starts to say something, but you keep going.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to make this about me because if you're going through something then I want to support and be there for you. But I can't help but feel like you're grossed out by me. I mean—I feel grossed out when I look at myself. I feel like I'm taking up so much space—"

Natasha cuts you off abruptly, pulling off the blanket as she pulls at you until you're in her lap.

"Nat—"

"You're not gross and this is not about the weight you have or have not gained. You hear me?" Natasha says forcefully as she holds you close to her, hand over your thigh to keep you against her.

"God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry if I've been making you feel like you're not attractive me," Natasha's eyes well up as your tears wet her shoulder. "You're literally still the most gorgeous person I've ever met and you're always going to be that to me."

Natasha's hand at your waist dips underneath your hoodie, her fingers trailing up your back as she sighs at your warmth. "I should've told you, but the springtime is just really hard for me. It's odd because it's a time for things to come back to life but some of the worst things have happened to me during the spring and things blooming makes me think about things that aren't coming back. I think it's also just a little bit of seasonal depression too. I'm just the rare percentage that gets it in the spring."

The explanation makes your body sag with relief because while you feel so horrible that there is a reason Natasha doesn't like spring, she's not falling out of love with you.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize that I was hurting you," Natasha apologizes again. "I didn't mean to be so distant but I didn't want to bring your mood down as well, which is why I've been working so much to keep busy."

"It's okay," you muttered as your turn your head, forehead pressed against her neck. "I'm sorry spring is depressing for you."

Natasha merely hushes you as she kisses the side of your head.

You begin to feel awkward, thinking about how you must be heavy on her and try to move, but Natasha doesn't let you.

"Sweetheart, I don't know how to convince you that you're perfect to me," Natasha says so seriously as she forces you to look at her. "If you want to lose weight because that is what you want, then I support you. But I need you to understand that I love you no matter what. I don't care either way because you're so fucking lovely to me always. Do you understand?"

Timidly, you reply, "Okay. Thank you."

Natasha presses her lips against yours in a long kiss before she pulls back.

"Now, I'm going to ask again. Are you hungry? We can order in and watch that new show on Netflix I heard was pretty good from Wanda."

You feel lighter. You think you might still want to work out because that would make you happy, but you don't feel the rush like you did just a couple of hours ago.

"Yeah," you say shyly. "But maybe something not so heavy?"

Natasha nods as she presses another kiss into your cheek as she helps you settle onto the couch right beside her to grab her phone.

"Anything to make you bloom."

[theshelbyclan]

Castle in the Sky

Summary: You’re the daydreaming sibling of the Shelby’s, but when the adventure spills over into real life, it’s not as great as you’d imagined

(Gif by @nofckingfighting​) A/N: A sweet anon requested: can I have request please Something like this Tommy was very protective over y/n and she gets hurt by one of the bad guys and sees blood on her face now all bruised but Tommy wants revenge Omg if you do so thank you so much for my request! ❤️ Huge fan of your works!This is set around season 1, back in the good old days when the only real enemy was Billy Kimber, remember those days? So easy… anyways, hope you like it J Words: 2933 ***

You were only nine when you started as a bookie’s runner for the Peaky Blinders. Nothing about this was special, half the kids of Small Heath worked for them, but there was just one difference: the Shelby’s were your brothers. It was a good job in many ways, because it meant not only being able to help your brothers, but people were inclined to give you a bit extra, just for being a Shelby. You imagined they thought it good luck.

“Y/N, take this to the other side of town, will you?” Tommy requested as he sat hunched over a newspaper. You protested a little, “Why me? I’ve done all of mine for today…” “This one’s extra, alright?” “Who is it?” you could never hide your inquisitive nature. But you only showed it around your brothers; to the rest of the world you were just quiet and practically invisible. He smirked slightly, “Someone who’ll pay up big. That’s why I need you to do it. Can’t trust any of the other kids not to steal…” “I have some homework to do, Tommy.” At thirteen, you were still at school, which was a minor miracle in Birmingham. “Tell you what: if you just do this one job, I’ll get you magazine you’ve been talking about, eh?” now he looked up and met your eyes. “Book, Tommy,” you smiled, “You might have heard of the concept? It’s a little like a magazine, a little like that newspaper, but with more pages? Some find it challenging, but once you get used to it…” “Alright, little miss know-it-all,” he grumbled without malice, “Go on, take the slip, make sure he bets all. Off with you. Stop outsmarting your old brother, eh?” He winked to make sure you were comfortable and you returned it with a big grin. “Where?” “Digbeth,” Tommy’s nose was back in the newspaper, “behind the Golden Dragon.” ***

As you were walking through the streets of Small Heath on your way to Digbeth, you were daydreaming. In a way it was strange just how different you were from your brothers, because the entire Shelby clan was very realistic, trying to make their way in this hard world, where you would rather pretend all day you were the main character in some story. The books you read, it was all an escape to you. So while you were walking, the people and factories disappeared. In your head, you were walking through the woods, on a secret mission that your king gave you. With the top-priority letter in your pocket, you remembered what he’d told you before you left: “If you get caught, eat the letter. If they capture you, make sure to be brave and never divulge its contents to anyone. And if all else fails, you must make the ultimate sacrifice. But remember, you have to memorize the contents of the letter first…” Wouldn’t it just be easier to memorize it now and destroy the letter immediately? You pondered on the matter… In the distance, you could see the mountains and the towers of another kingdom, and you knew your enemies were near. Without anyone noticing, you put a hand to your pocket and could feel the reassuring rustling of paper underneath your fingers: the letter was still there. If it would come to a fight, how would you go about it? If there were just one man, the small dagger in your boots would suffice. If it were two, you’d distract one, maybe by throwing the veil you were wearing, quickly turning around to kill the other and then back to the first one before he had time to recover. If there were more than three, you’d run, because you were the fastest after all. You’d get to higher ground and attack them from there, like a deadly shadow they could never see coming. As you smiled to yourself, you left the daydream for a short moment. You looked down and saw the muddy shoes you were wearing, marching through Birmingham mud. In the distance, all you saw was smoke and factory pipes. But it was honestly all you needed: your imagination did the rest. The real world barged in when you delivered the slip in Digbeth. Everything went smoothly at first. Your big brown eyes persuaded him to indeed bet big, and you were quite satisfied with yourself, knowing Tommy would be too. But you still had to walk back with a lot of money now in your pocket.

*** Almost home, there were only a few streets to go. Your head was back in the clouds and this time you were imagining you were a spy during the war. Silently, you moved through the streets, making yourself invisible and pretending every man wearing a hat was the enemy. So each time you saw one, you changed directions or hid for a second. It was a fun game, until you realised the enemy wasn’t wearing a hat. “Now, what’s a pretty girl like you doing on the streets, all by herself?” A man with a heavy Cockney accent popped up next to you and your heart nearly jumped out of your chest. You opened your mouth to reply, but no words came out. In your dreams, you always knew what to say, but in reality it wasn’t so easy. The man approached you and you noticed he’d cut you off from your one exit out of the alley, “It’s Y/N Shelby, isn’t it,” he grinned. “No,” you managed to say, “you got the wrong girl.” He grinned again, “Nice try, sweetheart. We’ve seen you at the Garrison. They don’t allow little girls at the pub, unless they’re a Shelby.” This was all true. You felt your hands getting clammy. “Tommy sent you, didn’t he?” Again, you tried to remember what the hero in your stories would do. She’d run, climb the building and then throw a knife right between the eyes of the man. Or she’d say something clever, just to distract him, and then turn around and escape when he least expected it. He took another few steps forward and you could smell him now, a smell of strange smoke and the river, “Do you know who I am?” Nailed to the ground, you shook your head. “I work for Mr. Billy Kimber. Ever heard of him?” You turned to see if you could escape, but then realised the other side of the alley was blocked by two more men. Neither of them were wearing hats. Cold sweat of fear ran down your back. The man in front of you started laughing, “There’s no running, sweetheart. Just give it to me.” At once you realised he was referring to the money in your pocket, but for Tommy’s sake, you wanted at least to try to be brave, “I don’t have anything.” He sighed, “Don’t play with me. I’m not the kind of man to play with, and neither is Mr. Kimber,” his voice was suddenly low and menacing, “Your brother thought he could, thought he would get away with fixing a race, he did, and now he’s going to be put against the post and shot. Don’t think I won’t do the same to you.” You gulped, but still thought of Tommy’s disappointment in you when he would find out you’d been a coward. So you took a deep breath and said softly, “It’s not yours. This money is ours. You can tell Mr. Kimber to go fuck himself!” It didn’t come out as strongly as you’d hoped. Like a crack of thunder, he swiftly slapped you across the face with the back of his hand. All the air was knocked out of your lungs in a second and you stood gasping for air, as you felt some blood trickling down your chin. “Give me the money,” he demanded again. And then, like your heroes, you pretended to reach for it in your pocket. Suddenly, you turned around and started running into the other direction, hoping to slip past the two men before they could stop you. But it didn’t work. One grabbed your arm and when you tried to push him away, he punched you hard. All strength left you in an instant. The second one started fumbling in your pockets and instinctively you kicked him, which earned you another blow to the head. More punches followed and your head was spinning. As you looked up to the sky, you remembered wanting to get back home, to your castle, where all was well and safe.  In the end, they left you on the ground and the money was gone. Your last thought was: Tommy is going to be so embarrassed. 

*** “Y/N?” You opened your eyes, but couldn’t see for a moment. “Y/N,” the familiar voice repeated, “Come on, yes, let’s get you home. Polly, Polly will know what to do, yes…” Strong arms lifted you up and rocking with his familiar limp, Curly carried you back to Watery Lane. When he’d taken you into the kitchen, Aunt Polly flew to your side in seconds, asking, “What’s happened?” Uncertainly, Curly explained and as he did, he started to become upset over your state. That’s when Tommy came in and started to calm him, while keeping an eye on you all the time. “Sweetheart,” Aunt Polly had taken a cold cloth to the cut in your lip, “Wake up… Come back to us…” Again you tried opening you eyes and you finally managed this time. But all your concern was with Curly, who was still anxiously fidgeting with his cap in hand. “Don’t worry, Curly,” you croaked, “I’m alright now. You did good, carrying me here.” “Polly will know what to do…” he kept on repeating. Tommy put a hand on his shoulder and it had an immediate calming effect, “It’s alright, Curly, go back to Charlie, eh? We’ll take care of her now.” Before he left, you said to him, “Curly? I’ll stop by tomorrow, see about that beautiful horse of yours, alright?” That put an immediate smile on his face, “Yes, she’s a beauty, alright… And she needs her princess to ride her! Back to that castle in the sky…yes…” When he’d gone, you lowered your head again and sighed deeply. Carefully, you felt your face and only then realised how awful you must look. “Who did this,” Tommy demanded at once. Polly glared daggers at him, “You did, I presume?” “Me?” “I told you again and again not to use the little ones to run errands. Sending them across half of Birmingham with money in their pockets, and look what happens!” For a moment, Tommy seemed to be speechless. Then he protested, “They’re invisible, Pol. Nobody knows they’re carrying anything.” “This one did,” you interjected, “because he knew who I was.” “How?” “Said he was with Kimber,” you whispered as the memories came back to you, “said he’d put me up against a post and he’d shoot me, like he’d do with you…” In a sudden fit of rage, Tommy grabbed a chair and flung it across the room. Polly snarled at the gesture and then turned to you, “Stay here. This cloth is cold, keep it against your eye, or it’ll turn black in half an hour, and I can’t take you to church looking like that. I just need to have a word with your brother.” You took the cloth and didn’t dare to look at Tommy, who was now being taken away by his aunt like he was ten years old again and in trouble. Aunt Polly closed the door behind her, but you still tried to hear as much as you could. Most of it was lost, but when they started shouting you heard bits like “putting your little sister in danger!” and “this is Billy fucking Kimber, Thomas” and “family first”. At first Tommy protested with “I didn’t know they knew her” and “Kimber is getting weak”, but eventually he shouted out in defeat, “I fucked up, alright? I’ll fix it. I promise.” When they came back, Tommy looked like a dog that’d just been kicked. So he retreated into a corner and started smoking, still sulking a little. Aunt Polly lifted your head up by placing a finger under your chin, “You won’t look pretty for a week, but it’ll heal.” You shrugged, not caring about being pretty at all, and muttered, “I feel like an idiot…” “Why?” your aunt demanded, “because big men decided to go after a small girl?” Tears started forming in the corners of your eyes, as you admitted, “Because I wanted to be brave! In my stories I’m pretty and strong and the hero, but in reality I’m just like a mouse. No one notices me and I’m useless…” “Sweetheart,” Polly softened her voice and crouched down next to you, “Just because you can’t fight like Arthur or John can, doesn’t make you useless. We’re all stuck here, in Small Heath, and there’s nothing pretty about that. But you reading all those books? That’s what’s going to make this easier. You can pretend, and that’s worth more than you’ll ever realise.” You smiled back at your aunt, who always knew what to say to make you feel better. “I’m off to the chemist to get you some powder against the pain,” she kissed the top of your head, “I’ll be right back, love.” After she’d gone as well, you sighed again and dropped the cloth. Her words mattered, of course they did, but it didn’t change the fact that you weren’t happy with yourself at all. For starters, you still couldn’t bear looking at Tommy. “Y/N,” he grumbled, which convinced you even more he was angry and disappointed, “Tell me what they looked like.” “They didn’t wear hats…” Impatiently he waved a hand, “Apart from that. What else?” “I don’t know,” you shrugged, “it all happened fast, Tommy. They had that accent that Kimber has as well.” “Fucking Cockneys…” your brother breathed. “Tommy?” you tried carefully, “I’m so sorry, but I lost the money. I tried to keep it. When they asked I told them to fuck off and then I tried to run and even fight, but they still took it. I’m so sorry…” He held up a hand to silence you and locked eyes with you, “You told them to fuck off?” “Yes, but it didn’t help…” “You actually told them to fuck off?” he frowned, “Usually you’re too shy to even say anything to strangers…” “I was angry,” you explained, “and I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Tommy walked over to you and much to your surprise, he was smirking, “So you told them to go fuck themselves, and then you fought them?” “Yes?” “Did you hit any of them?” You thought about it for a second, “I think I kicked one in the balls and hit the other in the face.” His grin grew even wider and he mumbled to himself, “Wait ‘till I tell Arthur about this…” “Why?” you protested, “So he can laugh at me as well?” “No, sweetheart, he’ll be the proudest brother ever. His little sister, who everyone thinks is a little mouse too scared to do anything? She fucking hit a grown man and told them to go fuck themselves. Now that’s a hero in my book!” His laugh was contagious and you had to join in. But soon you became uncertain again and asked, “Are you not upset I lost the money?” “The money’s not important,” his face grew serious again in an instant, “but you are.” “Really?” you whispered. “Yes,” he took your face in his hands, “Listen, Y/N, this is what’s going to happen: Billy Kimber threatened my little sister, so I’m going to put himup against the post, and shoot him.” “And then what?” “Well, what usually happens in your books? Maybe I could learn something from them, eh?” A warm feeling of being appreciated for who you were came over you, “You’d take his kingdom and his skull would be put up on the gates, as a warning for all future enemies.” “That’s fucking dark,” Tommy raised one eyebrow, “But I like it.” “Me too…” you smiled at your brother. “I mean it though, Y/N. Kimber touched you, so I’m going to shoot the bastard. I won’t let anyone fucking go near you again.” And just like that, you felt safe enough again to continue dreaming. *** A few weeks later, everything had turned to chaos, both in the Shelby household as in the whole of Birmingham. Tommy didn’t speak to anyone of what happened to you, he hadn’t even apologized, but he wasn’t like that. He told you he’d fix it, promised you revenge, and that was even better. When the men were counting minutes in front of the Garrison and Billy Kimber’s army arrived, you were sitting at home with a book. You couldn’t really concentrate, because you knew there were too many of them. You pretended some angel would appear to save them all. There’d have to be no bloodshed, because this angel would be on your brothers’ side. That angel came in the form of your older sister Ada. She’d always had flair. In the end, only two bullets were fired. You listened to them both. One killed Danny Whizz-bang. The other killed Billy Kimber. Nobody knew, but as Tommy fired, he didn’t have business on his mind.

As he aimed, he saw his little sister’s face, all bruised and battered.

He whispered, “for Y/N,” and shot.

Bang.

***

Masterlist

[scuttling]

Sweet Evening Breeze

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 5,042 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Naïve reader, Innocence kink, Oral sex, Unprotected sex, Previous bad sexual experience Summary: Being Jack Hotchner’s babysitter is a pretty great job. He’s an angel, most of the time, and his dad is so sweet and thoughtful, really takes care of you. Really takes care of you... *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! “Jack, buddy, time for breakfast,” you call down the hall for the third time. “We’ll play Legos later.” He shouts something nearly incomprehensible back, and you sigh as you stretch up, trying to reach the jam he likes on the top shelf of the cupboard.

Most of the time, the fact that Jack’s dad, Aaron, is very tall gives you butterflies in your stomach, but sometimes it’s just an inconvenience—like when he puts groceries up so high you don’t have a chance of reaching them.

“Dad did not say you could skip breakfast, and it’s not okay to lie. Little monster,” you mutter, and you can feel Aaron’s breath on the back of your neck when he chuckles softly. Whoops. You didn’t even know he was standing there. “I say that with full affection.”

He reaches around you to take down the jam, resting a hand on your lower back, probably for support. The bit of skin exposed by your stretching tingles at the touch.

“Of course, and so do I. Often.” You turn to face him, give him a grateful smile, and take the jar of jam.

“Thank you. Ugh, aren’t you miserable in that?” you ask, gesturing to his usual business suit. As Jack’s babysitter, you see Aaron in a suit almost every day—another thing that gives you butterflies—but you’re in the middle of a heatwave, and it’s 97 degrees in your little suburb of DC, which means it’s probably more like 115 downtown. That’s too hot to do anything, but especially in a suit and tie.

“It’s cool in here, but yes, I’ll probably be miserable the second I step foot outside.” You spread peanut butter on one English muffin and jam on another, laughing softly when a thought comes to you.

“Too bad you don’t have as much flexibility with your dress code as I do.”

At the start of this heatwave last week, you’d asked Aaron—after much nervous deliberation—if you could wear shorts and tank tops around the house instead of your usual jeans and a t-shirt or sweater. Your so-called uniform was self-imposed, because he’d told you from the start you could dress however you were comfortable, but you didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. You weren’t trying to show off your body, or tempt or tease, or anything like that; you were just extremely hot, especially playing outside with Jack.

He had agreed, of course, that you should dress for the weather, and that shorts and tank tops were fine. He also reminded you that you could use the pool whenever you wanted, whether he was home or not, and just thinking about taking a dip later is enough to make you sigh in relief.

“I don’t think anyone would be interested in seeing me in an outfit like that,” he jokes—sometimes people can’t tell when he’s joking, because he’s so dry, but you’re familiar with his humor by now—and you laugh again. It earns you a smile.

“I think it’s more important that you’re comfortable than what people think when they see you in something, but it would probably be a little distracting.” You’ve seen him in his swim trunks on more than one occasion, most recently with no shirt to accompany them, and you can attest to being very distracted that day. You were supposed to be keeping an eye on Jack, and you did, would never put him in danger, but your eyes had also been following the drops of water that dripped from Aaron’s hair, down his throat, over his chest…

You had been hot for more than one reason that day, and your butterflies moved a little bit lower.

You shake your head of those thoughts quickly, glance around you to see that Jack is still not in the kitchen. You sigh, and put the peanut butter muffin on a paper napkin, hand it to Aaron.

“I’m going to go get him, but have a good day, okay? Try to stay cool; maybe you can take a swim tonight when it’s not so hot.”

“Good idea. Maybe you can join me if you’re still here.” That was sweet of him to offer. You smile at his kindness, brush a hand over your head. You wish your hair wasn’t all over the place, clinging to the sweat on your neck, your temples, but humidity is not your friend. He doesn't seem to mind.

“Thanks, maybe I will.” He gathers his things to head out, and you steel yourself and head to Jack’s room, scoop him up, giggling, into your arms, and plop him down for breakfast.

The two of you spend the day inside, because even swimming is a nightmare when the sun is beating down the way it is. You play with Legos, watch a movie, do some coloring pages, and play learning games on his iPad.

At around three, Aaron texts you, lets you know he won’t be home tonight because of a case, and you mentally plan out a small, easy dinner for you and Jack, then a little more playtime, then bed for Jack and a swim for you after.

You tuck him in, turn on his nightlight, and close the door behind you, then head to your room to change into your bathing suit.

You usually wear a purple one piece with shorts over it, something you can play with Jack in without worrying about anything falling out, so you’re surprised to find a pale blue, floral print bikini on your bed—a very tiny bikini—with a sticky note on the tag.

Went shopping for Jack and this made me think of you. I hope you like it. - Aaron

The first two things to pop into your head are, it was so sweet of him to think of you while out shopping, and you’re really glad he’s not here to see you in it, because it only half-covers all the things it’s supposed to cover. You double check the tag, but it’s the right size, so it must just be the intended design. Your cheeks flush hot, but it also makes you feel good, to be wearing so little. Kind of wrong, but good in a way you can’t explain.

You grab a couple of beach towels and step out into the slightly cooler night air, sigh at the feel of it on so much of your skin. You lay out your towels on the lounge chair by the edge of the pool—maybe you’ll lay there and read or play on your phone after your swim—and then step into the pool.

The water is still so warm, and the contrast between it and the breeze that blows across the surface has goosebumps breaking out across your skin. You dip your head under the water, let your hair fall loose and luxuriously wet after being twisted up all day long, and when you open your eyes Aaron is standing at the edge of the pool; you gasp, startled by his sudden appearance, and then laugh lightly.

“Oh my god, you scared me. I thought you weren’t going to be home tonight?” You swim closer to the edge so you can see him better, and he crouches down to your level. He’s taken off his jacket and tie, loosened the collar of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves; your heart races a little at his proximity, and all the dark hair you’re presented with.

“Change of plans, we weren’t needed after all. I texted you, but I see your phone is over there; I’m sorry I scared you.” He looks you over, something calculating in his gaze, and then smiles softly. “You’re wearing the swimsuit I bought you. Do you like it?”

You can feel yourself flush, because you hadn’t anticipated him being home to see you in it, but there’s nothing you can do about that now.

“Yes, I like it. It’s pretty. Thank you.” He must be able to sense your apprehension, because he tilts his head curiously.

“If you don’t like it, you can tell me. It won’t hurt my feelings. Don’t be shy.”

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I love it. That was so sweet of you.” You reach out a hand to rest on his arm, don’t want him to feel like you aren’t grateful. “It’s just a little… revealing.” He makes a soft noise of contemplation, reaches out to brush his fingers over your shoulder, over the strap.

“I was a little worried about that. Why don’t you get out of there and let me see? I can let you know if I think it’s too much.” You appreciate that he’d do that for you, and you respect his opinion, but you feel really exposed in it—and you’re not sure why that makes you feel so uncomfortable and so good at the same time.

Sure, he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life, but there’s no way he’d ever look at you as anything other than the sitter. You’re just too… innocent.

All the same, you nod your head and lift yourself up out of the pool; Aaron moves back, helps you up, and guides you over to the lounge chair. He sits, and you stand.

From there, he looks slowly over your body; he lingers over your breasts, your hips, then asks you to turn so he can see the back. You swallow, self-conscious under his gaze.

“Have you ever been this undressed in front of a man?” he asks, his voice low, and your breath hitches. “I can tell you’re nervous, that’s all.”

“Um. Once,” you say, flushing. He hums, brushes a hand down the length of your arm, and you feel a chill. You turn back to face him, and he pats the lounge chair, encouraging you to sit next to him. You sit, cross legged, facing him, nervous, but… also not; it’s hard to explain.

“Were you completely naked?” The way he asks it is so casual, but being naked isn’t casual for you; you can barely bring yourself to think about being naked, let alone talk about it. With your employer.

But something about the way he asks it makes you want to answer, at the same time, and there’s almost no one you trust more than Aaron. He’s always been so good to you.

“No. I left something on.” It had been a bra, gray with a pink bow in the middle. You were more comfortable keeping it on, and your ex-boyfriend hadn’t cared. He hadn’t cared about much, it turns out.

“Was it during sex?” The way the word sounds coming out of his mouth makes you anxious, and excited; you can’t believe you’re having this conversation, and you also don’t want it to end.

“Yes, during... sex.” He nods, brings a hand to your cheek and brushes your wet hair back, tucks it behind your ear. Your heart is beating so fast you’re surprised the world around you is still so calm, quiet. Intimate.

“How many times have you had sex, sweet girl?” You close your eyes, embarrassed. You don’t want him to know how innocent you really are, not when he’s so much older and more experienced. He’ll laugh.

Then again, this is Aaron, and he’s only ever made you feel cared about and safe before. So maybe he won’t?

“Um. One time.”

“Just one time? That’s surprising to me; you’re so beautiful.” You shiver, maybe from being wet with the breeze on your skin, or maybe because he brushes his fingers over your lips, or maybe because he called you beautiful. No one’s ever called you beautiful. “Did it feel good?”

You’d wanted it to feel good; it did, for maybe a minute, and you think about that minute all the time, especially when you… when you slip your hand into your panties at night in your bed, thinking about Aaron’s broad shoulders, his thick forearms, his hands, his mouth...

“Kind of. And then no.” His hand freezes and he frowns. His voice is abruptly less low, more serious. There’s a wrinkle between his eyebrows you want to reach out and touch.

“Did he hurt you?” It had hurt, but you know he hadn’t meant for it to hurt. He wasn’t mean. He was just so eager to finish that once he started, he’d stopped caring if you were feeling good, so focused on his own body. You figured that’s just how guys are, and it made you never want to do it again—so you didn’t.

“Not on purpose,” is what you say. He covers your hand with his, big and warm and careful. You’ve always felt so comforted by his touch, and tonight is no exception.

“What happened?”

“It started quickly and ended quickly. I don’t think I was… prepared.” You’re blushing, hoping he understands your indirect statement so you don’t have to say it out loud. He rubs his thumb soothingly over the back of your hand, reaches up with the other to touch your flushed cheek.

“You weren’t wet?” You exhale, a little shaky, tell him no. “Are you wet now, sweetheart?” You’re almost ashamed to say, but he is asking...

“Very.” It’s just a whisper, but it makes him smile a little, touch your mouth again. You could get used to that.

“Good girl. Can I feel?” That gives you pause, for a moment, but thinking of him touching you where you’ve imagined for months—it’s too good of a prospect to pass up, no matter how nervous you are. You nod, and he moves his hand inside your swimsuit bottoms, brushes over your core, slips between your lips easily. He never takes his eyes off of yours. “It would feel really good to have sex now. Do you want to try again? You’re always taking such good care of us; I want to take care of you.”

You bite your lip, and he leans in slowly, presses his mouth to yours for a gentle kiss. You make a soft noise of pleasure, tilt your hips so you’re sliding over his hand, and he groans—it’s honestly one of the best sounds you’ve ever heard in your life. It means he wants you… never in a million years would you have guessed that.

“I want to try,” you breathe, and you feel bold, so you kiss him this time. He pulls you close, deepens the kiss, adds tongue, and you moan at the feel, clinging to his shirt. “Aaron.”

“Let’s go to my bedroom,” he says, voice low, and he moves his fingers up to the part of you that makes you shake with desperate need, rubs tight circles so you’re panting, chest heaving; you nod quickly and he picks you up, hand still moving inside your swimsuit, carries you to the sliding glass door and pushes it open with his elbow.

You assume you’ll head straight for the bedroom, but he stops in the kitchen, sets you on the counter and kisses you again, a little harder than you’ve experienced before; you love it, try your best to match the way his mouth moves, and his fingers press hard against your aching bud, making you gasp with pleasure.

“Have you ever had an orgasm?” he asks, a little breathless himself, and you smooth your fingers through his hair.

“Um. I think so. From touching myself like this.” He moves his fingers faster, and you press your palm against the counter for support, move your hips against his hand. It feels so good, so much better than when you do it that you could cry.

“Has someone else ever given you an orgasm?” You use the fingers in his hair to bring him to you for a kiss, something you both moan softly into.

“No. I want-I want you to be the first,” you murmur, and he closes his eyes, exhales through his nose, and lifts you up again, this time carrying you to his bedroom and setting you on your feet by the bed. He looks down at you with eyes so dark and gorgeous, then asks if he can remove what little clothing you have on. You tell him yes, and he pushes down the bottoms, which you step carefully out of.

When his hands move to the top, you hesitate, always self-conscious about this; he leans in and presses delicious kisses to your neck, your shoulders, slides the straps down, and looks up at you with caring, gentle eyes. You nod, and he pulls your top off, too, leaving you completely naked in front of someone for the first time in your life.

It’s such a rush, you wish he hadn’t waited so long to initiate this.

“You are so incredibly beautiful,” he says, and with the way he‘s looking at you, you actually believe it. He takes your face in his hands, kisses your lips, then moves down your throat again, your chest—he pays your nipples a bit of attention, flicking his tongue, scraping his teeth, and your mouth falls open in a silent moan. “So perfect.”

He puts his hands all over your body, sweeping over your arms, your waist, and he presses kisses to your stomach, your hips, your thighs. You want his mouth where his fingers were, but you don’t ask; it’s almost like he knows anyway, when he looks up at you from his knees.

“Has anyone ever tasted you?” You shake your head, and he puts his hands on your butt, squeezes softly, and guides you to lay back on the bed. “I want you to tell me how it feels, okay?”

Normally, you’re quiet out of necessity, because when you aren’t here you have an apartment you share with a roommate—even though most of the time, you sleep here whether you’re strictly required to or not. You’re quiet here too, because you’ve never wanted Aaron to know how he makes you feel, although now you’re really wishing you’d have found out sooner that he feels the same way. Imagine all the cool, quiet nights you could have spent on this bed, in his arms…

Shaking yourself out of the fantasy—because reality is literally happening, and it’s so much better—you nod, and he carefully spreads your thighs, leans in to tease his tongue along your slit, light and wet.

“Oh. Aaron.” He looks up, reaches a hand forward to twine your fingers together, and you squeeze them, moaning when he dips again, this time pressing his tongue inside you where you’re wettest. “Oh my-oh my god.” He leans in to press damp kisses to your lower belly.

“That’s right, sweetheart. I want you to come on my tongue—come on my tongue, don’t be shy.” Again, he slides it inside, brings his free hand up to rub you, and it’s not long before you do as he asks, shaking and tightening your grip on his hand. You’re almost embarrassed by how loud you are, but he is nothing but sweet when he comes up, whispers in your ear how well you did for him, how pleased he is to be the first to make you moan like that, to taste you.

He kisses your mouth so you can taste yourself, and groans when you reach for his head, hold him closer.

“Thank you,” you murmur, shaky, when the kiss breaks, and he rubs over your lips with his thumb like he did before, smiles softly.

“You don’t have to thank me, sweet girl. I told you I wanted to take care of you; I’m just so glad you let me.” You move your hands to the front of his shirt and rest them there, hoping he’ll take the hint, but he just gets a glimmer in his eye that makes the butterflies flutter low despite your very recent release. “Don’t be shy. Tell me what you want.” You flush, don’t know how to ask a man—especially a man like Aaron—to get naked for you. “Oh, there’s that blush. My sweet, innocent girl. You haven’t even been properly fucked, of course you don’t know how to ask for what you want. But I’ll teach you.”

He sits up, hovering over your body, gets his fingers on the buttons of his shirt and starts to slip them free. He has to unzip his pants to untuck it, and the sight and sound of that makes you whimper—you immediately tense, feel shame at being so vocal, but he just leans in to kiss you, soft and slow.

“You can’t wait for me to be naked too, can you? You want to see what a man looks like, feel what a man feels like. Don’t you?”

“Yes.” It comes out roughly, almost too low for even you to hear; you clear your throat and try again. “Yes, Aaron.” It earns you a slightly harder kiss, and he climbs off the bed to undress the rest of the way; your eyes are drawn to his erection as soon as it���s exposed, and he looks at you with nothing less than lust in his eyes. It makes you shiver and want to open your legs for him again.

“You’re staring. Have you touched a cock before—stroked it with your hand?”

“No. Can I?” you ask, sitting up against the pillows, and he nods, moves next to you, and takes your hand. You’re intimidated by the size of him, all the more so when he wraps your fingers around it, covers them with his, and strokes.

“Feels so good, baby,” he rumbles, slinging his free hand around your hip and holding you close to his body. He is so… just good looking, so different from your ex-boyfriend, from guys your age, and you look up at his face while you touch him, hoping to bring him even half as much pleasure as he brought you. Your eyes flick back down, though, after a short time, transfixed by the wet head disappearing into your fist. “Hmm. Good girl. Do you want to try putting your mouth on it?”

God, do you want to try that. You want to know what it tastes like, feels like on your tongue; you nod, scoot back a little so you can bend over him, and he puts his hands on your head, slowly guides your open mouth to hover over him.

“Careful with your teeth, and keep me nice and wet, okay? We'll go slowly.” He pushes your hair back from your face so he can see you better, which is sweet, and you nod, close your lips around him, let him show you how he wants you to do it.

He feels so big in your mouth, and you remember to be careful, to be wet, like he said. He’s not making you take him deeply, just a couple of inches, and when you’re not so nervous it feels really good, the weight of him against your tongue, his gentle hands teaching you what to do. It makes you feel useful, learning how he likes to be pleasured, and you enjoy finding ways to make yourself useful to Aaron.

“Perfect, perfect. Just like that—you’re doing great, sweetheart.” You hum around him, pleased that it feels good for him, and you’re stricken with the urge to feel him spilling into your mouth, but he groans and offers something even more intriguing. “Would you like to come sit in my lap? I want to press into your warm, tight, sweet pussy; I promise it will feel good, not like last time.” You make another noise, something eager, and he pulls you off and gets his hands on your waist, brings you up to rest against his thighs.

“Will it hurt?” you ask, just in case. You hadn’t thought to ask that last time. “You’re big; what if it doesn’t fit?” You look up at him, and warm, tender eyes peer into yours.

“It won’t hurt, and it will fit, I promise. We’ll make it fit. Lean up.” You stretch up a little, press your hands to his shoulders, and he rubs his hands soothingly over your body, kisses your chest, and then dips a finger inside you; you grip him tightly, moan, hold still while he moves it in and out, then adds another. “How does that feel? Don’t be shy.”

“Feels-feels good,” you breathe, and he pumps them together which feels so incredible, so new. He brings his free hand to your butt and squeezes softly.

“Good girl. I’m adding another. You’re so wet, it shouldn’t be a problem, but tell me if it’s uncomfortable.” The third finger makes you feel like you’re full up, a little snug, but you know you’ll need to get used to it if you want him inside; you breathe, will yourself to only feel the good, remind yourself that this isn’t like last time. Aaron is being so good to you; he won’t stop being good to you.

“Aaron.” It’s a gasp, a plea, a question, and he answers it by pulling his fingers out, putting his hands on your hips, and lining his cock up at your entrance, lowering you slowly onto it. You pant, moan as it slides in; it feels tight to you, and you’re so incredibly full, but his hands feel like safety and you’re not worried. He’s always taken care of you; he wouldn’t hurt you.

“You’re perfect, you’re doing so good. You feel so good.” He squeezes you, stretches up to brush his lips over yours. “We’re going to make you come again; I’ll give you the best night of your life, I promise.”

“Of course you will. This is already the best night of my life,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he kisses you harder; you can feel his hands tighten, and it doesn’t hurt, only makes you want more, rougher. You feel filthy for wanting that, but it’s Aaron, and you want any and everything he wants to give; you also want him to take anything he wants to take.

He moves your body up and down, a show of strength that makes you moan, just a string of desperate sounds you’re a little embarrassed of; he appreciates the noises you make, though, if the way he grips you is any indication, his eyes determined as he makes you bounce on his cock.

“Oh, yes baby, just like that. How does it feel, sweet girl?”

“Mmh, good, so good, so good,” you sigh, your butt making contact with his firm thighs each time he brings you down on him. “Feels so good to be… to have it inside me.”

Aaron hums, frowns just slightly.

“Tell me what it is, baby. Your innocent little mouth can be dirty for me, this once. What feels good? What’s inside you?” His voice is a little tense, like maybe he wants to finish, but he doesn't change a thing, doesn’t hurt you so he can get there faster. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, curl fingers into his hair.

“Your… It’s your cock, Aaron. Your cock feels so good inside me.” You’ve thought the word, never said it aloud, but it makes him groan deeply, so you vow to say it again at some point just to savor that reaction.

“Yes it does, yes it does. Feels so good inside your perfect pussy, my perfect, sweet girl.” His hands move you faster, and you want to help now that you know this is how he likes it; when the two of you work together, it’s quicker thrusts, harder thrusts, your breasts bouncing along with the rest of your body and making you feel filthy, indecent. Amazing.

You lean in for a kiss, and Aaron turns it into something deep and decadent, delicious; you pass moans back and forth, holding tightly to him, the both of you breaking a sweat even in the cool air. You’re so close, so close to the ultimate pleasure you felt with his head between your legs, and you can hear your moans change, eager, needy things.

“Aaron please. Please.” You take his face in your hands, look into his eyes, bounce on him and kiss him and plead for release against his lips, and he holds you so tightly and climaxes, spilling inside you and pumping up into you, breathless.

“Oh, good girl, you did that. You made me come, baby. Not so innocent anymore, are you?” You shake your head—you don’t feel innocent anymore, you feel good, you want more, want to chase the feelings you’ve felt tonight, including the one still building inside you. “Now let’s get you off. I want to feel it.” He digs his fingers into your hips, so hard you think it might bruise, but in your heightened state of arousal it just feels good; you keep moving until your orgasm takes control of you, makes you grip his hair hard in your fingers and slam yourself down on him.

“Yes, yes, mmm.” He brings a hand to your face, softly catches your jaw, and guides you to make eye contact while you ride him through it until you are both spent, sinking against the bed. He sweeps his hands over your body, kisses you softly, and you melt at his touch. “That was so incredible. Thank you.”

“I told you, you don’t have to thank me. I wanted to take care of you; been wanting that for some time,” he admits easily, touching your cheek. “I’m just glad I could give you a good experience after the bad one.”

“Good doesn’t even begin to cover it.” Your voice is light, low, because saying things like this, talking about sex, is still so new to you. “I love being here for you, helping you with Jack, and anything else you need. Do you think you’ll want or need me like this again?”

“Oh, I don’t see how I could do without, if it’s something you want. Although I may have to return that swimsuit. It is pretty indecent,” he says with a somewhat guilty smile.

You figured as much, and for the first time tonight you feel very confident when you say, “No, I think I’d like to keep it.”

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[seijorhi]

Reminiscent

i’m (semi) back, y’all, and i come bearing a fic!! fhdjhfjdk it’s for oikawa i won’t apologise

Oikawa Tooru x female reader

TW non-con, drunk/drugged reader, forced infidelity, emotional manipulation, angst, past trauma, coercion, mild(ish?) smut, nsfw

“F-fuck, cutie! Just like – hah– just like that!”

You weren’t the clubbing type.

Not usually, at least – but exams were over and one of your friends was fresh off a bad breakup, one night letting loose wouldn’t hurt.

Walking is… difficult, your steps are sloppy – there’s an arm wrapped around your waist, your own slung over a stranger’s shoulders. Why are you outside? Where are your friends – they… they promised they wouldn’t leave you. 

“She good, dude?”

A soft, pretty laugh rumbles at your side, “Yeah, she’s gonna be just fine.”

And you remember the bar, the overpriced cocktails and the saccharine sweetness of strawberry liquor on your tongue. The dizzying lights and the bass that thumped so loudly you felt it reverberate in your chest. You knew the rules; they’d been drilled into you since you were sixteen years old.

Stick together, don’t accept drinks from strangers, and watch the one in your hand like a hawk - it doesn’t leave your sight.

A tongue between the valley of your breasts, long fingers curling up inside of you. 

“You like that, huh pretty girl? You gonna cum for me?”

They wouldn’t have just abandoned you, right? Maybe you told them to go. Maybe they thought you wanted it; to go home with the handsome stranger.

You never had the guts to ask them, never spoke about that night again. Not to anyone.

Pain. Something thrusting inside of you, splitting you open while he moans and pants atop you. It hurts so much and you want it to stop. 

Please stop. Please. Please. Please.

You’re begging, at least you think you are, but the words come out jumbled and wrong, and he just laughs, hiking up your thigh so he can fuck you deeper.

Why won’t he stop?

When you wake up, bruised and sore and all alone in your bed, it feels like a bad dream. You know it’s not – not with cum still seeping from between your thighs, the scent of the stranger’s cologne clinging to your sheets.

And you scrub your skin raw in the shower, but it isn’t enough to rid you of his touch.

—

It’s nothing like what they show on tv.

There’s no sympathetic detective to pat you on your shoulder while you break down, swearing that they’ll find the man who did this and you’ll get your justice.

You don’t go to the cops because you’ll know what they’ll say. You were drunk, drugged, and even if you could remember what he looked like (his eyes were brown, you think, and there’s a flash of a smirk in your head but the moment you try to focus on it it slips away like smoke) any evidence of rape washed down the drain the moment you stepped into the steaming shower.

At least… that’s what you tell yourself. It’s easier than admitting you’re terrified of judgemental eyes. 

Or worse; pitying ones.

So you pretend that nothing happened. You show up to your classes and throw yourself into studying, make the time to get coffee with your friends, you even pick up a part time job – it’s good to keep busy. 

The nightmares are just that; nightmares.

And things are fine, until they’re not.

—

“Baby, you’re here!!”

There’s barely time to drop your bags before she’s pulling you into a warm hug. “Hi mom,” you reply, squeezing her back.

When she draws back to take you in, one hand cupping your cheek, she frowns, “You look tired sweetheart. Have you been sleeping enough?”

“Yeah, just tired from exams and stuff.”

She looks unconvinced, but mercifully doesn’t push the issue. Of course, you don’t tell her that you missed your last two exams because you’d walked past some guy wearing that same cologne and just choked – that instead of finishing off your semester strong, you’d spent the day alternating between throwing up and crying in bed.

She doesn’t need to know that, because of that, you’ll probably fail both classes and have to retake them again next semester on top of an already full course load. It’s fine; you’ll figure it out.

For now, you work on matching her enthusiasm at having you home, grabbing your bags to bring them inside and into your old room.

“Oh, wait–”

Abruptly, you pause, gazing in confusion from the doorway of your bedroom. There’s a duffle bag lying open and empty atop your bed, a tangled jump rope, some weights, an empty bottle, a sweat towel – even what looks like a spare workout tee scattered haphazardly across the sheets.

“… I didn’t take you for a gym junkie, mom.”

She stops behind you, sighing. “It’s not mine it’s– Tooru said he was going to tidy it up, sorry sweetheart.” She sweeps past you to start tidying it up, but not before you catch sight of her wide eyed, deer in headlights expression.

And you can’t help the lone eyebrow that rises, falling back against the doorframe, arms folding across your chest. “Tooru, huh?” you grin, “And who might Tooru be?”

The flustered, almost guilty look she sends you makes you want to laugh – this is easy, comfortable, this you can do – but you restrain yourself. Just. “Tooru is… he’s– well, he’s the man I’m… seeing.”

She admits it like she’s confessing to a crime, eyes all wide and nervous; anticipating your reaction. And you suppose it’s not unwarranted. As far as you’re aware, she’s been alone ever since the day your dad walked out on you both – raising you was always the priority, or maybe the excuse. But you’re not fourteen anymore, you don’t need another father figure or every spare bit of her time and attention, and she doesn’t need your approval for this.

So you smile at her, “Is he nice?”

She lights up, her features – almost a mirror image of your own – softening as she beams, “He’s amazing, honey. I honestly don’t know how this whole thing really happened, or why he’s even interested in someone like me but… I lucked out with him.”

And so it goes, you prying little bits of information about the mysterious Tooru as the afternoon passes.

She tells you that they met a few months back, at the bakery she likes in town – and how she kept running into him; at the grocery store, and then at the park, and then on her way back from yoga that one night.

She tells you that he’s a terrible flirt, all smooth and charming with warm, pretty brown eyes, but he’s a good man beneath it all and she’s never met anyone like him. 

It strikes you, as you watch your mom animatedly talk about him, that you’ve never seen her look like this before. 

Happy. 

She can’t stop smiling, and when you look at her, really look, she’s almost a different person – younger somehow, a bit more care-free. It suits her, and you wonder with a slight pang in your heart how you never noticed how lonely she was before.

And she’s adamant that they’re taking things slowly, that he still has an apartment of his own in town – which to be honest, you really aren’t gonna judge her on either way – but it is kind of funny simply because whether your mom realises it or not, it’s clearly a lie.

The subtle reclaiming of your bedroom aside, there’s traces of Tooru scattered all around the house; the extra toothbrush and aftershave you’d spotted in the bathroom, the men’s  shoes and the jacket by the door, red wine in the cupboard when your mom’s only ever indulged in white.

You haven’t been into her bedroom, but at this point you’d hazard a guess that there’s at least one drawer full of Tooru’s clothes, probably half her closet cleared out for him as well.

“He’s coming for dinner, but I just wanted today to be just us,” she says, reaching across the couch to squeeze your hand. And you’re grateful for it, because you’re happy for her – you are – but you’re not so sure how you would’ve handled meeting the stranger holding your mother’s heart first thing. At least, not after the last few days.

Not when you still feel all… brittle. 

—

Tooru arrives a little after seven, and to say that he’s not entirely what you were expecting is kind of an understatement. 

She’d gushed about how tall and handsome he is – though personally, you think pretty’s the more accurate word, what with his soft, delicate features, perfect cupid’s bow lips and all. What she’d neglected to tell you was that the man in question, stepping through the front door with a faint smile on his face, has to be at least ten years younger than her, mid-thirties at most.

Suddenly, your mom’s initial reluctance to bring him up starts to make sense.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” he murmurs, stopping by your mom to drop a fleeting kiss to her cheek before warm brown eyes turn to you. 

Your heart stutters.

“Sweetheart,” your mom begins, slipping an arm around his waist and relaxing into his side, “this is Tooru– Oikawa,” she corrects herself.

He smiles at you, friendly and charming, “It’s great to finally meet you, your mom’s told me so much – all good things, of course!”

You force yourself to smile in return, “Yeah, you too.” 

There’s nothing overtly wrong with Oikawa, age difference aside – your mom’s clearly head over heels in love with the guy and on a surface level he seems nice enough, but you find yourself glad for the fact that he doesn’t make a move to step closer, try to shake your hand or god forbid hug you or something like that.

He’s nothing but a gentleman as your mom steps back into the kitchen to finish off dinner, setting the table without being prompted, pouring a glass of wine for your mom and one for himself before he offers a glass to you. 

“Oh, no I’m alright, thanks.”

You don’t drink so much anymore. He shrugs, like it’s no big deal but your mom pouts at you from the kitchen. “C’mon, sweetie. We’re celebrating tonight! One drink won’t hurt.”

“We’re celebrating?” you ask.

She throws you a wink, gaze softening as she turns to glance at Oikawa, already diligently pouring you a glass, “Of course we are. It’s not every day my girl comes home, and it’s nice having you both here with me.”

Oikawa’s fingers brush against yours for a fleeting second as he passes you the glass, and you have to fight to keep yourself from ripping your hand away. It’s nothing, you just– you’re not good with strangers touching you, and as nice as he is and as much as your mom might be infatuated with him, he is still a stranger.

“Absolutely,” he agrees, a playful twinkle in his eye as he clinks his wine glass against yours. “So you’re at uni, right? What are you studying?”

Uni’s the last thing you want to be thinking about right now, but whether or not Oikawa genuinely cares, he’s obviously trying to make an effort to get to know you. For your mother’s sake, grinning innocuously in the kitchen as she adds the last little touches to dinner, you suck it up, plaster a smile across your face and ignore the twinge of discomfort in your gut.

You can handle one night of small talk.

—

You wake the following morning to the sound of voices carrying down the hall.  

Not your mother’s – both are too deep, and your mom left a few hours ago for work. Figuring that one of them at least is likely Oikawa, you pull on a thin, satin robe over your pajamas, tying the sash in a loose knot before you slip from the room.

Those suspicions are proven correct; you round the corner to find Oikawa sitting up at the kitchen counter, a warm cup of coffee in his hand. There’s another man, a touch shorter, but imposing with dark, spiky hair and olive green eyes standing on the other side, hands braced on the marble top, glaring at Oikawa.

They both look up at the sound of your hesitant approach, the stranger abruptly straightening up, while Oikawa merely grins.

“Ah, you’re up,” he observes cheerfully, taking a sip of his coffee.

Your eyes flicker between him and the stranger – clearly comfortable enough in your home and with Oikawa, despite the faint, lingering irritation still visible on his face – and as your cheeks warm, you find yourself wishing you’d put actual clothes on before coming out to investigate.

“I- I heard voices…” you trail off, awkwardly folding your arms over your chest. “Is mom–”

“At work,” he supplies. “Do you want some breakfast? Coffee, maybe?”

You risk another glance at the other man, watching you now with an unreadable expression, dark eyebrows furrowed. You swallow uncomfortably, shifting slightly as you shake your head. “No, I-I’m okay.”

And in an instant, a flash, something like recognition passes through those olive eyes. 

 Oikawa chuckles smoothly, finally tearing his eyes away from you to address his friend, “Iwa, stop being so rude. You’re scaring the poor thing.”

The stranger, Iwa, just scoffs. “You’re a real piece of shit, y’know?”

If he’s bothered by the scathing insult, Oikawa doesn’t show it, merely shrugging before turning his attention back to you with a smirk. “Ignore him, he’s just pissy this morning.”

You’d have to be a complete idiot not to sense the uncomfortable tension between the two of them – and now you. This is your home, but it feels like you’re intruding, like you’ve stumbled into a conversation you have no business hearing, but even if you wanted to leave your feet are rooted to the ground. 

“Besides,” Oikawa continues, “he was just leaving anyway, weren’t you, Iwa?” It’s almost a purr, the way he speaks, but even the silken words can’t entirely mask the razor sharpness that lies beneath. 

Goosebumps prickle along your arms.

Staring at you, Iwa opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but seemingly thinks better of it, snapping it shut with an audible click. He huffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, fine, whatever.”

He spares you another glance on his way out, standing frozen by the hall. For a split second he slows, his scowl softening just a fraction–

“Iwa.”

It sounds like a warning, but he only rolls his eyes and huffs again. You think he’s going to walk out without another word to either of you, but he pauses once more, lingering by the entryway.

“You look a lot like your mother, anyone ever tell you that?”

He’s out the door before you can even think to reply, letting it slam shut in his wake. And you flinch at the harsh sound, something uneasy settling into the pit of your stomach–

“Hey,” Oikawa’s there by your side, his fingers entwining with yours. You hadn’t even heard him move. “Come sit, don’t worry about Iwa. He’ll get over it.”

His voice is soothing, you don’t pay attention to the words themselves, the implications there. You forget for a moment that you’re still in your pj’s, that you really don’t know him that well either, and mindlessly follow when he leads you to the couch and sits you down, taking the seat next to you.

And while your head’s still spinning, an uncomfortable feeling gnawing in the pit of your gut, Oikawa seems entirely unbothered by the turn of events, sighing contentedly as he stretches his long legs out, one arm sliding along the back of the couch behind you.

“Do your… friends usually just drop by like that?”

You don’t know where the words come from, or why that’s the first question on your mind, but when you glance over at him, Oikawa’s just watching you, an odd little half smirk playing on his lips. “Sometimes.”

His answer does little to soothe your unease. It’s really not a big deal, you know it’s not. Officially or not, this is his home too – you’re the one out of place. And if he wants to have people over when your mom’s not around, that’s fine, he can do whatever the hell he wants, but… 

You came home for peace. To hide away for a few days and pretend that everything’s just fine and you’re not one breakdown away from shattering entirely. You wanted your mom and the comfort of your old bedroom and safety and it’s fine – great, even – that she’s found somebody who makes her happy, but this– him and the weirdness with his friend and everything is just too much, and–

You don’t realise that your leg’s bouncing until Oikawa’s hand comes to rest on your bare thigh. It’s enough to make your stomach flip, an icy chill trickling down your spine as his thumb slowly strokes across the soft, plush skin. “Relax, cutie,” he coos, chuckling softly when you visibly flinch and squeeze your eyes shut.

“P-please don’t call me that,” you choke out, fighting against the wave of nausea rising up your throat. And it’s just like last time, his cologne, notes of vanilla and cedar and spice, swirling thick and heady around you. That phantom touch, the warmth of hands gripping too tight, unwanted kisses hot and eager against your skin. 

“No?” he asks, cruel amusement dripping from his tone. “Why not? I think it suits you, cutie.”

You want him to stop, to push him away, slap him – do anything really, but you’re frozen in place, shaking as the memories you’ve fought so hard to shove down come bubbling back to the surface. You can’t think straight, not with his hand sliding between your thighs, the warmth of his body pressing too closely against yours.

“Iwa was right, you know,” Oikawa murmurs, smoldering brown eyes drinking you in as you childishly shake your head, willing him away. His other hand catches your cheek, drawing your face back to him as tears well in your eyes, stubbornly clinging to your lashes. “She does look so much like you, the same eyes even.” 

He whispers it like a secret, nuzzling his nose against yours like a lover would as he sighs sweetly, “It’s the only reason I could stand it.”

And then he’s kissing you, the tenderness of his lips belied by iron fingers digging into your jaw when you whimper and try to wrench yourself free. 

It’s not like the nightmares that startle you awake in the middle of the night, gasping for air; hazy, broken recollections that fade the moment you try to reach for them. No, every touch, every moment of his assault passes in stark clarity.

The feel of Oikawa’s mouth as it trails greedily down your neck, his hand sliding under the cotton of your sleep shorts, even his pleased little hum when he realises you’re not wearing panties. “Such a good girl for me. Fuck, I’ve missed this.”

This time there’s no drugs in your system keeping you pliant and helpless, but that doesn’t make a difference. Not when his words echo in your head, playing again and again until every awful, sickening piece falls into place.

Long, nimble fingers stroke at your folds, and you can’t help the shivery gasp that leaves you when the tip of his middle finger sweeps over your clit. 

“Please– please don’t do this,” you sniffle.

Oikawa presses another fleeting kiss to your shoulder, “Shh, none of that. Let me help you, baby.”

“N-no, I don’t, I don’t– Stop!”

Knocking away the hands that try to push him back, he hooks his fingers over the hem of your shorts and slides them down your legs, your pitifully weak struggles only making things easier for him. It’s only when Oikawa reaches for his own zipper that panic truly strikes home.

You can’t just lie here and let this happen again. You won’t.

And like a switch flipped, you start to trash like a wild thing beneath him, the scream you’ve kept buried inside of you for months ripping itself free from your throat–

Only for the fingers that had been toying with your pussy to be shoved down your throat, cutting you off with a choked gurgle. As you gag, fruitlessly try to tug yourself free, Oikawa leans in nice and close – except this time there’s no gentleness to his expression, nothing but viciousness as he grins and bares his teeth. 

“You wanna yell, pretty girl? Want the neighbours to come running, let them see me fuck you?” He grinds his hips against you, his breath shivery as he pants at the friction of his half hard cock against your side. Nausea twists at your gut, acrid and bitter – you want to be sick, to cry and beg with him to stop but with his fingers still stuffed in your mouth, his thumb digging into the soft underside of your jaw all you can manage is an unintelligible whine. He hums, kissing away the single hot tear that spills down your cheek, “You think if you cry loudly enough, mommy’ll come home and save you?”

And it’s like time stands still as he laughs, cruel eyes glinting when he presses down on your tongue, warm saliva pooling around his digits. “Such a little whore, trying to seduce her poor, innocent boyfriend the very moment her back’s turned. Tell me, cutie,” he coos, “who do you think she’d believe?”

Your breath hitches, another sob catching in your throat – even if you wanted to answer, you can’t and he knows it. “She’s in love with me, you know. It’s almost a little pathetic how easy it was to manipulate her into bed – so lonely… desperate for love, for somebody – anybody – to pay attention to her, take care of her,” he sneers, distaste curling at his lips. “Wouldn’t it just break her fragile little heart to know she’s fallen for the man who raped her baby girl?”

Another garbled cry slips past his fingers and you can only watch in frozen horror as his other hand drifts back to his zipper. “You want to protect her, don’t you?”

His grip relents just enough for you to jerk a shaky nod.

“Pretty girl, so good for me.” Another kiss pressed to your cheek as the quiet hiss of his zipper fills the air around you. “It’ll be our little secret, hmm? She doesn’t need to know just yet, let her be happy a little while longer…”

Sliding down his briefs just far enough for his cock to spring free, he strokes it for a moment with slow, leisurely movements, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he watches your eyes widen. 

And when he pulls you forward, guides your mouth towards it, pre-cum beading at the tip, withdrawing his fingers so you can quickly gasp for air, you just… let him.

The fight’s gone, as quickly as it had come. 

You let his fingers curl through your hair, use it as an anchor when your lips part to force his cock between them. And he moans, low and shivery as your tongue slides along the underside of his shaft and you try not to gag around the sudden intrusion. 

You think that there’s no room left inside of you for shame, but as his other hand creeps back between your legs, teasing at your cunt, you burn with it, clinging to the pyre of your own humiliation and disgust.

And still, you kneel on the couch, letting him fuck your mouth, letting those long, pretty fingers curl up inside of you – moaning around his cock when they stroke that perfect little spot.

“I wanted to – shit – take this slow,” he tells you as his hips jerk upwards, shuddering in breathless delight when his cock hits the back of your throat and it convulses around him. “I wanted to make you want me.”

Wet, messy, gags sound with every unwitting thrust – you’ve no choice but to swallow him down, let him fuck your throat like you’re nothing more than a toy for his pleasure. There’s saliva coating your chin, dripping down the length of his dick, pooling around his balls. You can barely breathe, a task made even harder when Oikawa decides to add his thumb into the mix, teasing your clit while he fucks you apart on his fingers.

It feels so fucking good, and you’ve never hated yourself more.

Your throat burns, hot tears stinging in the corners of your eyes, and yet he’s intent on driving you to the brink of your sanity with every calculated flick of his wrist. Something tightens in your belly, a spring coiled too tight, ready to snap, and you can’t help it when your hips chase his fingers, the needy, shameful little whimpers that leave your lips (still wrapped around his thick, twitching cock) as you search for the pleasure to temper the discomfort.

“You don’t have a clue what you do to me, do you? I could barely sleep last night–” 

You choke back a moan, your pussy clenching around his digits, sucking them deeper as white spots pepper your vision and you shudder out a moan.

“So pretty when you cum for me,” he pants, but you don’t care – can’t, not when you’re riding his fingers, tongue lolling out as he gives you a moment’s reprieve to bask in the rippling afterglow of your orgasm before everything comes crashing back down around you. 

Oikawa lets you fall back against the cushions, breathless, trembling and dazed. You’re not stupid enough to believe that’s the end of it, not when his cock’s still hard, throbbing against his toned stomach when he gives it a slow, cursory pump.

“Lie back, cutie,” he whispers, keeping his eyes fixed on you as he pushes himself up off the couch to shed the rest of his clothes.

And as you shuffle obediently downwards, heart hammering in your chest, you find you can’t tear your eyes away from him either.

Tall and handsome, she’d said, but the words truly don’t do him justice. A body corded with lean, powerful muscle, golden, sun-kissed skin, a light smattering of dark hair trailing from his navel down past the well defined V of his hips… 

“See something you like?” he teases, smirking when you squeak and childishly jerk your face away, cheeks burning. “It’s okay to look, you know. I don’t mind the attention.”

It feels too soft, too intimate for what this is. 

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. He’s not supposed to be attractive, or to make you enjoy your own assault, and you– you’re supposed to fight it, fight him instead of just lying there and taking it… 

But when he climbs back onto the couch, easing your still trembling thighs apart to settle himself between them, his touch is nothing short of reverent, dark eyes wide and adoring as you squirm uneasily beneath him. 

With one hand braced on the cushion beside you, his cock resting just above your aching sex, he leans forward, easing your top up past your tits. “Perfect,” he murmurs.

And it’s enough to make a fresh bout of humiliated tears spring to your eyes. Your hands curl into useless fists at your side as he settles back onto his knees and takes his cock in hand, hissing in pleasure when he glides the flushed, leaking head along your slick folds.

“Fuck, cutie. I don’t think I’m gonna last,” he laughs, biting down on his bottom lip as he watches hot, fat tears slip down your cheeks. With an agonisingly slow pace, Oikawa lines himself up with your cunt and presses in – even with how wet you are, one orgasm already wrung from you, the stretch burns and you can’t stop the choked gasp that leaves you.

His eyes flutter shut, head thrown back back as inch by inch his cock sinks into your pussy until finally he bottoms out with a satisfied groan. “Perfect for me, so fucking good,” he pants, and you barely have time to drag in a breath before his hips are drawing back, another desperate, strangled mewl escaping you.

Bruising fingers dig into your waist, Oikawa cursing as your plush little cunt flutters maddeningly around him– before he eagerly slams his cock forward, stuffing you full once more.

And as you sob and whimper between every wet, obscene squelch of his dick fucking into your soaked pussy, that all too familiar, shameful heat begins to pool in your core.

“Gonna cum for me again, cutie?”

[seiyasabi]

Fixation

(This is a Yandere Yelena x Fem Reader story ;)) This takes place in a Modern AU outside of the anime, and I won’t justify my reasoning lmao 

TW: Coercion, !Drugging!, Manipulation, !Noncon!, !Dubcon!, Daddy kink (ehehe), spanking, she’s a straight up Dom w her tall ass, kinda a meanie, degradation!, handcuffs!, use of sex toys!, Overstim!, size kink!, dumbification?, unwanted filming!, etc.. 

Proceed with caution! Sorry if this is too self indulgent lmao, when women (lesbians) talk to me, I become the biggest idiot to ever exist :)) ) 

Today wasn’t the best day to wear a skirt. 

Begrudgingly smoothing down the lilac fabric of your skirt, you huff indignantly. All you wanted to do was look cute for your crush, Marco, but it seems that that was too much to ask for. 

Your white sweater, at least, keeps you somewhat warm from the harsh wind. It’s tucked into the waistband of your high waisted skirt, and your thigh high socks push the fat of your cute thighs out slightly. The sound of your white sneakers against the pavement is drowned out by your classmates’ loud voices, and you’re seemingly unaware of a certain black-eyed glare. 

Seeing your classroom come into view, you hurry inside, sliding into your lab assigned seat. Eyeing the dark haired male of your dreams, you can’t help but sigh pathetically at the fact that he hasn’t noticed you. Up until recently, the two of you were great friends-always hanging out and texting one another. But, the moment the both of you picked up this class, everything changed. 

Hearing the seat next to you slide open, you glance up at your seatmate. Smiling up at the tall woman, you greet her kindly, “Hi, Lena! How’re you today?” 

The Russian exchange student smirks down at you, as she plops onto the seat, “Good, now that you’re here.” 

Laughing at her gruff words, you wave her off, “You always say that,” Zipping open your backpack, you pull out your class notes, “What’re you going to do this weekend?”

Her smirk widens, dark eyes gleaming, “Why? Asking me on a date?” You laugh once more, completely oblivious to her hopeful tone. 

“You’re so funny, Lena,” Pulling out your pack of multicoloured pens, you start to set up for your class, “I just heard you speaking with Annie about ‘something big’ the other day, so I became curious.” 

Not one to acknowledge boundaries, the blonde woman starts to play with your (hair/sweater), “I’m throwing a party, one you should come to,” Her tone leaves no room to negotiate, but you don’t really notice. Nodding, you smile up at her. 

“Sounds fun! When is it and who’s going?” Her hand trails down to your thigh, fiddling with your sock. Brushing off your mild alarm at her ministrations, you justify her actions through your cultural differences. 

“Tonight at eight. Annie and her friends should be there, same with Marco and a few others,” She name dropped the kind man on purpose, knowing your misguided infatuation with him. If only you knew how much of a pussy he is. All she did was threaten him once, and suddenly he stayed clear of you. It made her life easier, sure, but it annoyed her that he dropped you like a gutted fish. You’re too good for that. 

Pulling out your phone, you pull up your calendar, showcasing that you have no plans this evening, “Okay, I can go!” 

Her smirk grows wider than before, “Great,” Yelena’s accent seemingly grows thicker, her r rolling more harshly than before. 

With that, class begins without a hitch; Yelena’s hand still glued to your perfect thigh. 

-

Stepping out of your car, you readjust your new outfit. Keeping the thigh highs from earlier, you changed your lilac skirt for a black, body con one, along with a cropped, black long sleeve shirt that accentuates your cleavage. 

Slamming your car door shut, you lock it with your key, before heading towards Yelena’s luxurious flat. You can hear low music and voices from her open top floor balcony, multiple shadows moving inside her home. 

With a fast beating heart, you can’t help but hope that Marco will speak with you tonight. With that hope deep in your chest, you step inside the fancy building’s lobby. Approaching the front desk, you go to show them your ID, but are met with brightly smiling faces. 

“Go on up to the tenth floor, (Your Name)! Yelena already told us that you’re coming!” Surprise overcomes your form. Why do they know you by appearance alone? You’ve never even been here before. 

“Oh, okay! Thank you,” Deciding to ignore the weird situation at hand, you head towards the lift. Pressing the button, you wait a few moments, before stepping into the open lift doors. The sleek metal walls reflect your appearance back at you, whilst you press the pristine ‘10’ button. With a small beep, the lift begins to move, practically flying at top speed to the top floor. 

Once at the tenth floor, the doors fly open, showing what looks to be a living room. You can’t help but gawk at the large flat displayed before you. Your classmate must be quite wealthy to afford a place like this. 

You awkwardly make your way inside, and are immediately greeted by the party’s host, “Hey, (Your Name), welcome!” You’re side hugged by a buff arm, practically slammed into Yelena’s torso. 

“Hey, thanks for having me!” You pat her back in an attempt to have her let you go, but instead, it seems to spur her on. She drags you towards a large L-shaped couch, which is filled by Annie, Reiner, and Bertholdt. A handful of others sit at her dining room table and kitchen counter, the open concept allowing everyone to see and speak to each other comfortably. 

Reiner glances up from the story he’s telling Historia and Ymir, a grin painting his handsome features, “Whoa, that’s a new look for you, (Your Name)!” 

Multiple eyes are suddenly glued to your now self conscious form, an uneasy smile on your face, “Hello, everyone.”

“Don’t get me wrong, you look great! It’s just really different from your normal, cute clothes,” People nod and agree with the large man, causing you to break out in a nervous sweat. 

“Well, I hope I don’t look too bad,” You joke halfheartedly, “I just wanted to try something new.” 

Yelena takes your appearance in, practically salivating. Whilst she does enjoy your usual clothing, this look fits you quite well. 

“You look very nice,” Bertholdt reassures soothingly, patting the spot by him, “You can sit next to me, if you’d like.”

The short haired woman glued to your side reacts immediately, “No, the girl needs a drink,” Annie shoots her a knowing look, which she nods to in response. You’re practically ragdolled to the kitchen bar, as the conversation starts up once more. Once at the marble countertop, the large woman releases you in favour of pouring you a cup of spiked punch, “This is very good. Made it myself.” 

You give her a bright smile, accepting the red solo cup, “Cool! I’m sure it’s delicious!” Bringing the cup to your (lipstick/chapstick/lipgloss) coated lips, you take a small sip. A burst of fruity goodness explodes on your tastebuds, making your eyes widen in surprise. You can’t taste a drop of alcohol in it, “Wow! This is really good!” 

A proud grin overtakes her lips, as she nods her thanks, “Of course it is. I knew you were coming, after all,” You laugh in response, and take another sip of the red liquid. 

“I see! Well, you have a very nice home!” The tall woman leans against the counter, holding herself up with an arm that goes behind your form. 

“Thank you. It’s very spacious. I find myself lonely at times,” Her large, black eyes stare down at you, trying to send you a message through them alone. 

“Oh, well, have you tried getting a roommate? Maybe the flat won’t be so empty,” She nods at your words. 

“Yes, that’s a good idea. Would you be my roommate?” You laugh, thinking that she’s joking. Not bothering to look up, as you take another swig of your drink, you don’t see the somewhat hurt look on her face. 

“That would be something! Not only are we seatmates, but we’re also roommates,” You giggle some more, taking more sips of your delicious drink, “But, your flat is a lot nicer than mine. I may take up on your offer.”

Looking up, you see her grin at you approvingly, “Yes, that would be nice,” What you don’t know is that her lease is almost up, making it so she has paperwork she needs to fill out. Paperwork that would look great with your co-sign on it. 

-

Three drinks in, and you’re feeling a bit woozy. Typically, you’re not a lightweight, but it seems that you are tonight. 

Leaning your upper body onto Yelena’s strong form, you laugh hysterically at something Reiner says, “Oh my God, you’re hilarious-” You cut yourself off with a snort, causing the entire room to laugh at your cute giggling. 

The short haired woman you’re currently using as a pillow holds you tenderly, a pleased smile on her face. The stuff Annie gave her works very well. 

“Man, if you weren’t Yelena’s girl, I would’ve cuffed you a semester ago!” Reiner roars wholeheartedly, slapping the leather couch below him. 

In your cloudy mind, you barely understand the words he just said, “Haha, wha-?” 

Pushing your head into her breasts, Yelena shushes you, “My poor baby is such a lightweight,” She and the others chuckle at that understatement, “I think it’s time to turn in for the night.”

Her civil way of kicking everyone out was enough, as everyone trickles out of her luxurious flat. Once the last person leaves, Yelena stands to her feet, scooping you up in her buff arms. She goes to her lift, pressing the lock input, she types in the lock code, not allowing anyone in or out of her home. Your high mind can barely comprehend what’s going on around you. 

She hums an unknown tune, as she goes up her steps to her master bedroom. Kicking open the door, she flips on her bedroom light with her elbow, before shutting the door with her foot. Sauntering to her California King sized bed, she lays your drugged out form on her light grey coloured sheets. 

“-Lena, wha-” Your head lulls to the side as you giggle uncontrollably, “-Are- are we dating?” She hums in response, starting to pull down your skirt. 

“Yes, my Darling Girl,” She smooches your forehead, “We’ve been together since I moved here,” Pulling your skirt’s fabric down and off of your legs, she tosses it on the floor, exposing your pink panties. 

“Bu-but, I like Marco,” You weakly attempt to push her grabby hands away from you, “I-I wan’ Marco!” 

The feelings of disgust, envy, and fury overwhelm her all at once. How dare you! She’s always treated you so well, that spineless fucker doesn’t deserve anything from you! He especially doesn’t deserve your wonderful heart! 

She says nothing, grabbing your blouse, and chucking it off of you. Your breasts jiggle at her ministrations, your bra just barely containing your tits. Seeing your almost bare, perfect body makes her pussy tingle, but her anger outweighs her arousal. 

Settling on the bed, she grasps your boneless body, and pulls you over her knees. You’re still muttering and questioning the validity of your relationship, all whilst saying that horrible boy’s name, causing her to cup the fat of your ass and squeeze harshly. 

“Baby, you know better than to say those horrible things. I love you very much, and it hurts to hear you say that.” 

Your breasts, arms, and head rest over her left knee, as you try to look up at her stern face, “But-”

“No buts, you know what happens when you act like a brat,” She slaps your ass experimentally, earning a pained yelp. A small smirk covers her lips, and she hits your ass as hard as she can. 

“‘M sorry! ‘M sorry! I didn’t mean it!” Your pleading is cute, so cute. 

“I know you didn’t, Princess. But I have to remind you of your place,” She slams her hand down once more, jolting your entire body. A shrill cry leaves your lips, as you try to move off of her lap, but seemingly can’t find the strength to do so. 

After five more smacks, the blonde pulls you onto her lap in a straddling position. One of her arms wraps around your top half, pushing your crying face into her neck. The other is wrapped around your waist, hand smoothing over your bruising ass, and playing with the hem of your panties. 

“Don’t cry, Princess. You know I had to set you straight,” She coos, “Your stupid, little brain is far too gone to understand at the moment, but you will once you sober up. So, for now, let your Daddy make you feel good.” 

You mutter nonsensical words in between your sobs, but the large woman isn’t put off. After she’s done with you, you’ll never think of that freckled fuck ever again. At least, you won’t unless you want him dead. 

Wrestling your pliant body to the mattress once more, she leaves you on the bed by yourself, before rolling onto the left side. Opening the top drawer of her nightstand, she pulls out a pair of handcuffs, a battery powered hitachi wand, duct tape, and a small bottle of lube. Setting them on the bed by your writhing form, she quickly makes her way back to you. 

“Shh, it’s alright, Princess. I’m right here,” Yelena reaches under you, fiddling with your bra’s hooks until it pops open, allowing her to slide your useless arms out of the garment. Tossing it aside, she sucks in a deep breath, enjoying the view of your plush chest. Experimentally, she pinches your right nipple, relishing the small moan you let out at the feeling. Gripping the handcuffs next to you, she feeds your dainty wrists through the opening, popping the pink, plush cuffs on tightly. Happy with the result, she continues her endeavour. 

Moving farther down your body, she leaves your socks on, loving how your thigh fat squishes up a bit. Grabbing the hem of your cute, pink panties, she pushes them off of you, exposing your pretty cunny. It separates from you with a small string of slick, filling Yel with a sense of satisfaction. You’re her perfect pain slut, aren’t you? 

Pushing on your pliant legs open, she smiles happily down at you, dark eyes blown wide open, “Awe, is your slutty pussy wet for me?” 

You shake your head rapidly, disorienting yourself more than before, “Nu-no! It’s not!” She clicks her tongue teasingly, her smile growing wider than before. 

“Don’t lie to me, Princess. Now I have to punish you once more,” Forcing your legs open, she holds them down with her own, straddling your waist. Her large form easily overpowers you, as she grabs the blue hitachi wand, and flips it on to the highest setting. Pushing it against your clit with a swift motion, your entire body jolts at the sudden stimulation. A loud whine leaves your lips, as you try to buck it off of your sensitive cunny. 

“Puh-please! Take it off! It’s too much!” Yelena snickers in delight, ignoring your pleading. Grabbing the duct tape from beside you, she rips off a few long strips, before smacking them onto your skin and the vibrator, effectively keeping it attached to you. 

Your moans and whimpers continue to grow louder and louder, as you try your best not to cum. You bite your lips in the hopes of stifling yourself, but it does little to help. If anything, it just spurs the large woman on. 

“Go on, cum for me, cum for Daddy,” You shake your head, a few keens falling from your mouth, as she watches in awe at the way your cunny leaks and clenches around nothing. 

Your toes curl in ecstasy as you cum, a loud whine escaping you. A gush of your orgasm flows from you, wetting the blonde woman and the mattress below. Two long, slender fingers prod at your slick pussy, forcing themselves inside your sensitive walls. 

“Good Girl, You’re so Good for me,” They Start to move in a ‘come hither’ motion, hitting your g-spot repeatedly with how long her fingers are.  

“Too much! Too much!” You cry, as she quickly brings you over the edge once more. 

More slick sprays from your cunny, as overstimulation begins to set in. Yelena captures your lips with hers, thrusting her tongue into your mouth. The kiss is wet and hot, as she grips at your plush chest. 

“No, no it’s not, Baby. It’s not enough,” Fumbling with her fly, she releases the strap she’s been wearing all night. In all honesty, she’s surprised that you hadn’t noticed the bulge or felt it underneath your ass earlier. It’s a good ten inches in length, and around 5.5 inches of girth. 

It is pretty intimidating for most, but due to your fucked out stupor, it should feel amazing for you. Grabbing the lube, she squeezes a small amount onto the silicone cock, smoothing it over the toy in sync with her fingers pumping inside of you. 

Deeming the toy and your cunny ready, she makes the next move. Sliding off of your numb legs, she stands to her feet, towering over you in all of her glory. Hefting you up and off of the mattress, she quickly punched your back against her pristine, white wall. Forcing your arms around the back of her head, she continues to kiss your drooly mouth vigorously. 

Wrapping your legs around her slender waist, her large leg muscles and arms work to hold you up. Guiding your dripping cunny over the tip of her strap, she slowly sinks you onto it. 

A keen of both surprise and pleasure rips out of your throat, as you grip onto her short, blonde locks. Giggling, she bucks her hips into yours sharply, causing you to orgasm on the spot. The vibrator and her strap on feels like heaven. 

Throwing your head back in bliss, you feel your arousal drip onto her dress pants, creating even more wet spots than before. Separating from your lips, she grins down at you. 

“Look at you, dirty Girl,” She spanks your ass harshly with one hand, as she continues a hardcore pace. The tip of the silicone cock batters against your cervix, causing you to cry out in both pleasure and pain, “You love it when Daddy ruins your pussy, don’t you?” 

Too fucked out to think properly, you nod your head vigorously, “Uh-huh! Uh-huh! I love Daddy’s cock!” She kisses your cheek tenderly, not stopping her thrusts for even a moment. Moving her lips down your vulnerable neck, she starts to suck the tender skin, leaving dark love marks on your pretty skin. 

“Mmm, good Princess! Since you’re such a good girl, I think you deserve a treat. Do you want a treat? Does your dumb little mind even understand what I’m saying?” You nod once again, eyes teary and pleading. 

“Yes! Yes! I want a treat, please, Daddy!” Smirking against your skin, she reaches into her pocket from around your thigh. 

“Since you asked so nicely-“ She presses the injector lever, shooting a large load of fake cum into your gummy, needy pussy. You cum almost immediately, this clearly being the biggest orgasm of the night, as you practically convulse and squirt a geyser of cum all over the place, “I think you deserve Daddy’s cum inside you.” 

You practically sob at the overstimulation and the feeling of being so full, “Thank you! Thank you, Daddy!” You kiss her of your own volition, surprising the large woman. Her heart warms, loving how you’ve become so submissive. 

Cradling you’re form to her muscular body, she saunters back towards the bed, pushing any other objects off and into the night side table. 

Placing you on the now dry sheets, she quickly flicks off the vibrator still taped to your clit, before placing it on the table beside her. Plucking off the duct tape, she then takes off your handcuffs, effectively freeing you. Instead of moving away from the woman, you lay there tiredly, no longer processing the situation. 

Sighing in content, Yelena grabs a hand towel from the drawer she keeps her sex toys in, and wrestles it under your hips. Smiling, she removes the strap from inside of you, enjoying the sight of the fake cum flooding out of you. 

Laying next to you, she pulls your head into her chest, curling around you as if she were a safety blanket. 

“You did well, Princess,” You don’t say anything, snuggling into her warmth, “Go to sleep, tomorrow we’ll announce our official status, okay?” 

An slurred ‘Okie’ is heard, before you slip into unconsciousness. Cupping your face in appreciation, her dark eyes glance in the direction of a small green light coming from her video camera. 

Now you’ll have to date her; after all, you wouldn’t want your sex tape to get out, would you? 

[shorkbrian]

Izuku tries really, really hard to reign in his desires when he’s around you.

He knows how scared you get, how uncomfortable you seem whenever he does so much as look at you.

The way you tremble and shake when he pulls you into his arms for a hug-something innocent-just a solid circle of his arms holding you close.

You’re so afraid of him, of what he could do and of what he chooses not to, what he holds himself back from doing. 

It’s obvious in your eyes when you look at him, blinking wide with fear. You flinch and draw away whenever he goes to touch you, even for the smallest of gestures such as a loving brush of his hand across your cheek, or sweeping up your little hand in his big one so he can kiss at your knuckles, one-by-one.

Izuku loves you so much, he’s willing to be patient with your fear.

Patient when you can barely bring yourself to speak around him; quiet, voice thin and wavering. You always have good manners, a “please” before every sentence and a “thank you” if he grants your plea. Izuku almost wishes you would make more requests, ask him for anything. He’d give you the world if he could, if you wanted it.

But you barely ask for anything. 

“Please let me go.”

“Please don’t hurt me.”

“Please, please, I won’t tell anyone you’ve done this. Stop doing this.”

You hardly ever use his name. Izuku knows you know it, made sure to introduce himself just in case you forgot about your favorite customer, your best tipper.

He’d never hurt you, doesn’t want to force himself to or make any rash decisions.

Everything you’re allowed to wear is soft, just like you. It makes Izuku melt when you choose to put on the clothes yourself, instead of crying in a towel after your shower and begging him for other clothes. He’s bought you hundreds of outfits and they all fit perfectly, but you always get so embarrassed having to wear them, but it’s adorable.

Izuku wants to wait until marriage, wait until you’re ready for him, wait until you love him.

He can’t stop himself from kissing you, stocky, scarred body melting into yours whenever he presses his lips against you. Sometimes it’s a desperate action, Izuku’s hand clutching at your shoulders, your waist, your hips, trying to curve his body so that the two of you fit together perfectly.

Kissing is fine. You cried a lot at the beginning, after every kiss and touch that the man gave you, but he assured you he wouldn’t go further until you were ready. Comfortable.

Now Izuku can kiss you soft and slow, each gentle touch expressing his feelings for you as he handles you like the most precious object. Other times he’s stressed, kissing you feverishly, breaks away to mumble how he can’t lose you, love you too much, won’t ever let you go against your lips, staying so close that his mouth hasn’t separated from yours, lips moving against your own as he rambles between kisses.

Kissing is fine.

Sometimes he forgets himself, forgets your fear and gets too worked up, sweat beading against his temples, hips beginning to twitch against your body, or the bed, or wherever he’s got you.

But then you whimper, and Izuku finds tears in your eyes and he hates himself for getting carried away, for being too eager and making you scared.

He had promised.

It’s difficult to peel himself away from his life source, from the person that makes him blush and stutter and heart beat out of his chest.

But he does.

A cold shower - if it’s really bad he has to grab a handful of ice cubes and press them against his naked cock, hissing at the cold pain. When he’s soft again he cages himself, cold stainless steel biting into his flesh, ensuring Izuku can’t break his promise to you.

Sure, he could jack off in the shower, or masturbate after you go to sleep, warm body peaceful as you lie next to him. But Izuku doesn’t want to. No, he knows he would only get irritated, frustrated with his hand and the fact that you’re right there and ripe for the taking. Better to keep his control, keep himself caged, keep your trust.

Izuku wishes you would let him touch you, make you feel good.

The first time he tried, you had sobbed the entire night, crying into his shoulder after Izuku had backed off, the man trying now to soothe you. It was just a gentle caress of your chest.

Izuku wishes you would touch him.

It gets harder to keep his cool as time goes on, even with a cage keeping him accountable, keeping his erections nonexistent.

The man can’t stop himself from rocking his hips against whatever’s in front of him when he’s kissing you, vague thoughts of sweaty bodies and blissful groans dancing around in his head. It freaks you out to feel the metal of the cage, but Izuku can’t help it.

At least for now, it stops him from making you hate him even more.

He doesn’t know how long he can keep locking himself up, keeping himself away from you.

Izuku wants to wait for marriage, wants to wait until you’re ready. But will you ever be truly ready?

Izuku might have to ask for forgiveness instead of permission.

[silenceofthecookies]

Hello! I'm here for my free pass :) But first of all, congratulations for another big milestone! So happy to see you grow, you deserve all the attention :) May I ask for The Supernovas (I know there are 11 of them, you can yeet Apoo out, for the sake of humanity) with big breasted s/o? Not in a suggestive way, rather you know, the hard daily bread of big tittie committee. The bra odyssey, tiddy ache, BACK ACHE, them getting in the way all the time etc. Thank you :) Let me know, if it's not good.

*pick up boobs and rests them on the table* Okay now we can talk big breasts. Sorry this one took so long Bas, I hope you enjoy these!

Monkey D. Luffy

Luffy has no idea of the struggles that come with big breasts. Sure, Nami and Robin have them too, but they never shared the struggles with him. You’re gonna have to spell everything out to him.

It really doesn’t make sense to him. If your back hurts because of your boobs, shouldn’t you just train your back muscles so they can handle it better? Why don’t your back muscles naturally get strong enough from carrying that weight all day anyway? It’s a mystery.

If you tell him your chests hurts, he also panics and tells you to go see Chopper, worried that your heart might stop. He calms down a little when you tell him it’s your boobs, not your heart, but he still suggests getting Chopper. When you tell him it’s normal for big breasts to get sensitive, he’ll say something along the lines of breasts really being sucky if they hurt you by simply being there.

The thing that probably annoys him the most is the fact that you won’t let him pull you around everywhere all the time. One only runs with one normal bra and two sports bras on, after all. Who has time for bra’s? There are adventures to be had!

Trafalgar Law

Law is aware of the struggles that come with big breasts, so your complaints and problems don’t come as a surprise to him, and he’ll handle them in true gremlin style.

He’ll suggest doing surgery on you to make them smaller, listing you the pro’s and con’s of it in typical boring medical fashion. He likes your breasts though, they’re a great pillow for him to sleep on, but your health and comfort go first. And a reduction doesn’t mean they’re gone anyway.

Law has absolutely no problem in going bra shopping with you, doing proper research on what kind of bra’s give the best support, advising you wherever needed. Of course, this is a great opportunity for him to pick some lingerie for you to wear as well.

Watching you find a good position to sleep in is one of his favourite forms of entertainment when he’s having trouble sleeping. He’ll simply prop his head up on one arm, watching you shift under the covers to finally find a position that’s comfy for you and your ladies.

He’ll do some research with you on proper anti-perspirant deodorant. Underboob sweat is an absolute hell, and the sub gets pretty damn hot.

Eustass Kid

Kid does not get it. I repeat. Kid does not get it.

“So your back hurts because there’s too much weight on your chest? Won’t we fix it if we create some counterweight on your back with a backpack or something?”

The worst part is that his crew agrees with him and his ‘genius solution’.

He has absolutely 0 patience to go bra shopping with you. He doesn’t even want to enter that store. That’s a ladies store, he doesn’t belong there. If you drag him in anyway to help you pick, he’s obviously going to pick everything sexy, with total disregard for the support. When you tell him you need a good, supportive bra, he’s out. He had no idea what is a supportive bra and he has no interest in learning about it either.

He thinks it’s absolutely hilarious though when you need to write something and you put your boobs on the table. The first time you did it he just asked if you were trying to get his attention. He drops that joke once he learns it’s about general comfort, though he still thinks it’s funny.

Bege, Zoro, X Drake, Killer, Hawkins, Bonney and Urouge below the cut!

Capone Bege

Once Bege finds out there are downsides to big breasts as well, he tries to do everything to help you be more comfortable. Even if he doesn’t really understand the struggles himself.

First of all, he’s helping you find alternatives to blouses. He loves a well-dressed lady and blouses look great, but if you have to worry about your buttons every 5 minutes, it’s not worth the effort. It’s either an alternative, or getting you tailor-made blouses, that fit you perfectly and comfortably.

When going bra shopping with you, he asks you what he needs to look out for to help you pick. He may be a little awkward going into a bra shop with you the first time, but he has no problems with helping you.

When the back ache gets too much, he’ll massage your back himself. It’s a little clumsy, but he enjoys making you feel better by his own hands.

Anyone who comments on your breasts when he’s around will be shot on the spot. Doesn’t matter if they’re complimenting you or catcalling you. They should know better than to stare at your chest, and they should certainly know better than to do so when he’s around.

Roronoa Zoro

This meathead has no idea what’s going on and is almost as bad as Luffy. Your back hurts because of the weight? Why not work on your back muscles then to be able to handle the weight?

Contrary to Luffy though, Zoro gets it pretty fast once you explain to him that it doesn’t work like that. Not that he’s really one to argue much, women can get pretty scary when they get mad, certainly when it comes to their breasts, and he wants no angry women.

Zoro absolutely refuses to enter a lingerie shop. He is way too embarrassed to go in and even seeing other men enter the shop will not help. Threatening to ask Sanji to go with you though, that might convince him to enter, but his head will be the colour of a tomato the whole time.

He really does not want you to get surgery though. He loves everything about your breasts and uses them as a pillow on the regular, and he really does not want to be robbed of the best pillow he’s ever rested his head on.

He’ll give you a massage when the back ache gets too bad though. He’s actually pretty good at it and has strong enough hands to apply enough pressure.

X Drake

Dead.

It does not take much on your part to embarrass this guy. Depending on where you are in your relationship with him, he might even cut you off and change the subject when you even mention your boobs. He does not want to think about it, for if he does, he’s going to be as red as a tomato.

If you’re far enough into the relationship for him to be able to handle talking about your breasts, he actually gets really worried. Why does life have to be so hard on you? Why are proper, supporting bra’s so hard to find, and so expensive when you do find them? It makes absolutely no sense to him.

He will gladly give you a massage when you’re in pain. He won’t even question it. You can 100% abuse him on his by saying your back hurts even when it doesn’t just so you can get a massage. He will never know.

Trying to find a good position to sleep in keeps him awake (he’s a very light sleeper, certainly in company) so he tries to help you find a good position. And if that good position requires him to be your pillow, or to lie on the edge of the bed, he’ll do it.

Killer

Killer knows. He 100% refuses to tell you how, but he already knows the breast struggles. You don’t even have to tell him what a well-supporting bra looks like. He knows.

Killer has no trouble going bra shopping with you, and his behaviour in the lingerie store is very similar to him going grocery shopping with you. There is no embarrassment, no awkwardness. You’re there to get something necessary for your daily life, much like food, and that’s how he treats it. He will be blushing a little behind his mask if you ask him his opinion on some sexy lingerie you’re wearing though.

He gives the absolute best massages in case your back is hurting. He knows just what muscles to work on, just how much pressure to apply and just how to make it feel relaxing as well. It’s honestly a blessing.

He does hate how much trouble you have with finding a proper sleeping position. All the tossing and turning keeps him awake as well and getting some rest on the Victoria Punk is a rare luxury he wants to take full advantage of. He won’t say anything about it though, because he knows you can’t help it and that you probably hate it just as much, if not more than him.

Basil Hawkins

Hawkins is a no-nonsense kind of man and his mind is very focussed on solving a problem when one comes up. If you complain about your back hurting to him, he’ll suggest laying down or taking a bath for now, and considering a breast reduction. If you were looking for sympathy, you’ve got the wrong person in Hawkins.

With his casual fortune-telling, he does often warn you your back will hurt extra that day. Of course there’s nothing you can do about it, your fate is set, but giving you a heads up is Hawkins’ way of being considerate about your situation.

He will actually use his fortune-telling skills to help you find a good bra though. Whenever you find a shop he’ll be able to tell you if there’s any use going in there or not. It saves you an awful lot of time and frustrations.

Nothing you can say or do regarding to the big breasts struggles will faze him. He will reply to everything very calmly, very level-headed and very no-nonsense. He takes your pain and struggles seriously, but he won’t let you just whine about to get it off your chest. It’s not that he doesn’t want to listen to you, it’s simply his problem-solving thinking that doesn’t stop to think that maybe, you just need to complain a little.

Jewelry Bonney

Bonney obviously knows what’s up. She’s part of the club herself, she knows the pains, she knows the struggles.

Bra shopping with Bonney is really interesting. She curses a lot, threatens a lot of people, and somehow always manages to get at least one bra that fits and supports. If they don’t have anything, she tends to break something because ‘If they don’t have supporting bra’s, they don’t need a supporting business’. Yes, she gets REALLY salty.

Boobs getting in the way is a seriously annoying thing, and both you and Bonney can curse a lot over it, but Bonney will help you find the pro’s in it as well. Have you ever stopped to think that when you lean back a little in your chair, your chest is a table you can put your snacks on? Or that your cleavage is a perfect cupholder? Add a straw and you don’t even have to take out the cup to drink. Total win.

Bonney has found all of the pillow hacks to easily find a sleeping position and now, you know them too.

Even though she has the same trouble, or maybe just because she has the same trouble, she’ll never underestimate you complaining about pains, being uncomfortable, or whatever. She’ll hear you out, let you rant, and get something to help with the pain.

Urouge

Just like Killer, somehow Urouge already knows about the struggles of being big-breasted. When you ask him about it he just laughs and makes a joke about liking big breasts. He won’t tell you how he really knows though.

With him always smiling, it might be a little hard to know whether Urouge really cares about your struggles or not. He does, actually, but he also thinks it’s a little funny to hear you complain. The best thing for him though is when your boobs are getting in the way of something. He thinks it’s funny, certainly when he watches you trash around in bed next to him because you’re trying to find a comfortable sleeping position.

He’s very helpful with whatever you need help with. Need someone to go bra shopping with you? He’s there, though he will make the stupid ‘these are so expensive, I’ll hold your boobs for free’ joke. He’s pretty good at eyeballing which size you need and which models will support you well.

He generally has some pain killers on hand for when the breast pain gets too bad. If you’re at the ship and he notices you’re in pain, he’ll get you some hot or cold compresses, depending on what you want.

[mingishoe]

𝓘 𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓪 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 | 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓮 [31]

Summary: Seonghwa is going off on tour so you spend time with him before he leaves.

Pairing: Seonghwa x Fem!Reader

Genre: Social Media AU, Smut, Fluff, Angst (?)

Word Count: 2.1k

Smut Warning: Unprotected sex, nipple play, dirty talk, teasing, some praise towards the end

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You and Seonghwa had just come back from eating dinner. The two of you were cuddled together on the sofa watching a movie before Seonghwa spoke up with a pout, “Are you sure you can’t come with me?”

“I’m sorry.” You pout back at him. “You know I would if I could.” Seonghwa nods as he looks at you, “But I think we both know it probably isn’t a good idea for me to be seen with you all the time. There’s already been talk.”

Seonghwa pauses to think for a minute before he speaks up, “I don’t have any problem with it. I wouldn’t mind if it went public. Maybe it should.”

The two of you look at each other in a heavy silence. Your mouth opens and closes as your cheeks get hot. Seonghwa can tell you don’t know how to respond to him so he speaks up before you can even say anything, “You know what? It’s okay, but please at least stay with me for tonight?”

You smile as Seonghwa brings you closer to him, “Of course. And I’m gonna milk every bit of it.” Seonghwa snorts and pushes you softly, “What?! You’re gonna be gone for like months! A phone call can only do so much.”

Seonghwa laughs softly and tilts his head in amusement, “So then what do you want to do?” You knew exactly what you wanted to do but there was no way you’d say it so instead you shrugged, “Really? You don’t know?” You shook your head again as you bit your lip in amusement.

“Well, I think I know what I wanna do.” Seonghwa grabbed onto your waist and pulled you on top of him. Your gaze switches between his eyes to his lips as Seonghwa pulls you close to him, “Because a phone call can only do so much right? So let’s get it all out right now.”

You scoff but lean in so your lips are barely touching, “Right. How ever will you survive without me?” Your sarcastic tone makes Seonghwa lick his lips, “Gonna be so desperate with no one to fuck.” You mockingly pout at Seonghwa and he grips onto your chin. “What?” You tilt your head, “I’m right, aren’t I?”

Without answering you, Seonghwa rolled his eyes before he kissed you. Your hand went up to grab onto his face and the other grips onto his shirt tightly. You press your chest up against his as the kiss deepens.

Seonghwa’s hands trail down your waist and inside your shirt as he messes with your bra. You slip your tongue into Seonghwa’s mouth as your hand slips underneath his shirt. Your fingers trail along his abs and you smirk as you feel them contract underneath your touch.

You pull away from Seonghwa and you look at him with flushed cheeks as you pull his shirt off. Your eyes are glued to his chest and abs and you contemplate if you should just drop to your knees right then.

You were about to move but Seonghwa gripped onto your wrist to keep you on his lap. You reach to take your shirt off and Seonghwa wastes no time and unhooks your bra. He pulls you closer to him and he lowers his head before he takes your nipple into his mouth.

You bite your lip as your body jerks slightly as Seonghwa sucks and his tongue swirls around your nipples, switching between the two every so often. Your face is hot as Seonghwa looks up at you as he sloppily sucks on you, “Seonghwa, oh my god- d-don’t look at me like that.”

Seonghwa pulled away and looked at you with his mouth parted as he caught his breath. His eyes are glued to your body and you move off of his lap for a minute to pull your jeans off. Seonghwa took the hint and did the same.

The both of you are completely naked and you take your spot back on Seonghwa’s lap. You reach down and grip onto his cock before you gently jerk him off. You chuckle and smirk at Seonghwa, “Why don’t we record it? Hmm? Give you something to jerk off too.”

You lift yourself slightly and align yourself with his cock. You rub the tip of his cock along your slit before you start to grind yourself on him, spreading your cum to lubricate the length of his cock. Seonghwa groans and pinches your side, “Shut up. You would like that wouldn’t you.”

“You know I would.” You lean back in and teasingly kiss him a few times before you suck on his bottom lip. Seonghwa audibly swallows and you pretty much laugh in his face making him roll his eyes in annoyance.

“You know what? How do you know I just won’t find someone else to fuck wherever I want?” Seonghwa looked at you with raised eyebrows in a poor attempt to act like he’s serious.

You finally grip back onto Seonghwa’s cock, “Go ahead. But we both know you’d never do that.” and before Seonghwa had time to respond you fully sit on his cock. His eyes squeeze shut and grip your waist tightly, “You know I have you wrapped around my finger.” And Seonghwa knew you were 100% right. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Seonghwa gripped onto your ass to control your movements, “You seriously just don’t know when to shut up. You know it never ends well.”

“Well if you would just let me…” You wink obnoxiously as you try to keep up the dominance that both you and Seonghwa are fighting for.

“See. And every single time you end up breaking. Crying and begging for my cock.” You shake your head but your head falls on Seonghwa’s shoulder with your eyes squeezed shut.

Seonghwa’s hands slid from your ass to your thighs as you bounced yourself on his cock, “No- Nuh-uh. You know- hnng fuck! It’s not even that good-” Seonghwa snorts and pinches your nipple making your entire body jerk as you cry out, “N-No! Ah- Fuck! H-Hurts!”

Seonghwa pouts as he continues to twist and pull, “Oh it hurts? That’s too bad, isn’t it? Do you want me to stop?”

“No! Don’t stop! Please don’t stop.” Seonghwa smirks as you completely prove his point. Your thighs burned and you could already feel yourself becoming sore so you stopped your movements with a desperate whine as you looked at Seonghwa with pleading eyes.

“Are you tired already?” Seonghwa teasingly scoffed before he held your hips up and slowly started to thrust up into you.

A shudder ran through your body as you felt every ridge of Seonghwa’s cock inside of you making you clench around him tightly. His thrusts are slow and gentle purposefully trying to rile you up, “Does it feel good?”

“Mhmm, y-yeah. Feels- Feels so good!” You sob loudly as Seonghwa reaches his hand in between your legs and gently rubs soft circles along your clit. “Seo- fuck Seonghwa! Harder! Fuck me harder! Please Seonghwa.” Seonghwa almost felt bad for you. You sounded so pathetic and desperate.

“What’s wrong? Thought it wasn’t good?” Seonghwa thrusts into you harshly as do the touches on your clit.

“Nonono! It is! Fuck it’s so good! So fucking good! It- It feels so g-good!” You’re throbbing around Seonghwa’s cock making his groans louder. Seonghwa’s moans are ringing in your ears and it’s the only thing you ever wanna hear, “Do I- Do I make you f-feel good?” Your heart was beating out of your chest and your entire body was hot and you just wanted Seonghwa to say yes. All you want to do is make Seonghwa feel good.

“Of course you do my love. You know you do. So so good.” You wrap your arms around Seonghwa as your body feels like it’s on fire, “You’re such a pretty girl. You’re so good.” You let out a desperate whine as you attach your lips to his.

You brought yourself down in time with Seonghwa’s thrusts as he had your tongue halfway down your mouth. You pull away slightly and you suck on his tongue before you pull away and mumble, “Gonna cum- I’m- please I-I’m so close!”

Seonghwa’s hand was still in between your legs and the other wrapped around your waist. Your lips are hovering about to touch as you mumble Seonghwa’s name in a mix of moans and cries, “Seonghwa! Seonghwa fuck! Fuckfuckfuck! G-Good! It’s so good!”

Seonghwa let out a loud deep groan and his cock was throbbing, “A-Are you gonna cum? Hmm? Please. Please, You know how m-much I want it!”

“Mhm. Yeah, You know how much I love filling you up with my cum. Gonna fill you up so well.” Your hands slide up his chest and hold his face as the two of you look in eachothers eyes.

Your eyes are watery and Seonghwa’s face is flushed as sweat drips down the side of his face and neck. The sound of skin slapping fills the room along with moans coming from the both of you. You whisper softly, “Please.” And that was all it took for Seonghwa to cum.

His eyes squeeze shut as he throws his head back. A shudder runs through your body along with a pathetic moan of his name. You immediately clench around Seonghwa in an attempt to keep all of his cum inside of you.

He takes a minute to get himself together as you rub along his abs and chest in a comforting manner. He slowly lifts his head up and gives you a lopsided smile that makes your stomach fill with butterflies and you look away with a small smile.

“Are you okay?” Seonghwa runs his hand down your back while the other plays with your hair. You nod with a smile before you give Seonghwa a series of kisses, “Let’s go get cleaned up so we can lay down.”

Seonghwa helps you off of him and almost immediately his cum is leaking out of you. Your face contorts into one of discomfort as you quickly rush to his restroom letting out a loud, “Eeewwww!” As the cum drips down your legs.

Seonghwa watches you in amusement as you stumble into his restroom with wobbly legs. He stays in the same spot for a hot minute as he lets out a deep sigh as he finds himself smiling at the thought of you.

Your head peaks out of the restroom, “Seonghwa- what’re you still sitting there for?” You refrain yourself from laughing, “Can you get me something to wear?”

Seonghwa stands up and makes his way towards you, “Come on. You can change in my room.” When you don’t follow behind him he looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, “Why aren’t you coming?”

You look completely serious as your eyes widen like it’s obvious, “I’m naked!”

Seonghwa blinks at you with an amused smile on his face, “Umm… we just had sex- I’ve seen you naked several times.” Your facial expression doesn’t change so Seonghwa laughs, “Fine. I won’t look. I promise.” Seonghwa shields his eyes from you as he continues to his room. He quickly gives you some boxers and a T-shirt before he dresses himself, “Can I look now?”

You laugh and pull Seonghwa onto the bed with you and immediately bring him on top of you. He wraps his arms around you as his head rests on your chest.

It’s quiet for a minute as the two of you just enjoy the company of each other before you speak up, “Seonghwa…” he turns his attention to you as he hums, “You know I was just kidding about saying you should go fuck whoever you want, right?”

Seonghwa smiles as he nods, “Of course. I’d never do that to you.” Your face gets hot and your heart starts to beat faster. “You know I kinda like you right?

“Kinda?” You tease Seonghwa but he knows exactly how you’re feeling as he can literally hear how fast your heart is beating.

“Mmm kinda like a lot.” You bite your lip to keep you from showing the cheesiest smile.

“Oh my good thank god- because how embarrassing would this be if you didn’t like me back.”

@wootf @thelargefrye @ateezappreciation @hwaseongsbabie @flowerboykun @jin-neck-shaft @etherealbyeol @alliecoady98 @dazity @yunkiwii @nervousfestivalcashdonut @sunwooyoung @jung-wooyoungie @nycol-ie @multihoe-net @jeonjungkaka @skmoonchild @lauraneuuh @a-soft-hornytiny @sktbzc0re @saxtaee @songminji @hoerangdan @uwu-minho @cixrosie @lizcvcks @empirxn @yunhoscafe @luckyjoongie @seonghwas-shinystar-x @rdflare51 @dimpledsatan @phebeedee @alecanal93 @shinestar—niko @mingi-banana @nabihwa @perfectlysane24 @cherry-chaeyeong @tsuw4n @seuomo @the7thcrow

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[mikkomacko]

Ok thanks. What do you think about Stucky comforting reader for some reason?

A/n: Hiii. I hope this is ok! My first time writing stucky x reader but it was cool. I might just have to do an expanded Stucky fic 👀

~

It's well known throughout the Avengers that y/n is the kryptonite to every super soldier. At least she is to the two super soldiers they know, because only she can turn Steve and Bucky into overbearing boyfriends.

"Sam, do you have eyes on y/n and Nat?"

Steve grunts, kicking his attacker square in the chest and sending the man to the pavement. Bucky's follows closely behind, the former soldier slamming his own attacker into the ground so hard it cracks under his spine. Both lie there in a heap of sweat and blood.

"Sam?" Bucky asks angrily when they receive no response. Behind them, Wands and Tony shift through the rubble and debris of the two buildings that had been attacked, blown to pieces by the terrorist group in front of them. With civilian casualties high, y/n and Nat had taken up the job of evacuating everyone within the threatened area. But it's been too long since he's heard anything from the two through their comms.

"I've got sights on Nat but y/n is no where to be seen."

Another fly over from Sam, this time closer to the ground but still nothing certain on the missing Avenger. "I've got heat signatures in a damaged office building over here but I can't tell if it's her or not."

Steve and Bucky share a look, concerned for their girl as always, and begin heading over to the building.

"Romanoff you better fucking answer!" Bucky spits into his comms, boots crunching in the rubble under his feet.

A static breaks through, followed by the breathless voice of Natasha. "You're not the only one fighting terrorists Barnes," she bites back. "I cleared the west blocks, lost y/n when she went east. I'm guessing her comms are down."

"Was she evacuating the buildings?" Steve asks, approaching the block y/n is supposedly on.

"Think so. The one closest to you guys. She was worried it'd come down from the blast."

Steve and Bucky pick up the pace, relief flooding through them when a group of civilians rushes out of the building y/n was clearing.

"Is anyone still inside?" Steve asks them, while Bucky cranes his head up to look through the shattered windows. Before any of the survivors can answer, the building behind to rumble, the boom of an explosion going off cutting off whatever answer was being given.

Immediately shielding the civilians, Steve looks up in horror just in time to see the building split into two crumpled pieces, the top half collapsing into the building next to it.

~

There's a ringing in her ears, throbbing in her head and the taste of iron floods her mouth. Groaning, she lifts herself up enough to find that she's braced against a column, smoke and dust clouding her vision but she knows that something is off. The world around her has tilted, leaving the walls as the ground beneath her feet.

An explosion, she concludes, racking her brain for what she'd been doing when the bomb went off. A civilian, she remembers, the last one on the top floor, a young intern frozen in fear as battle rang out around him. Forgetting that she lost her comms in a fight earlier, she reaches for ear to call for backup. Instead, she's met with slick, warm blood and a tender skull.

Grey, the boy's name had been Grey. He'd told her during her attempt to guide him out from under his desk.

"I promise I can get you outta here Grey." She had sworn, and she intends to fulfill that. Unsteadily, she rides to her feet, balancing herself on the rubble around her.

"Grey?" She calls out, voice rough. "Grey if you're here I need a noise, a movement, something!"

She strains her eyes, searching through the mess of grey and charred black. Finally, a flash of ash ridden green, the color he'd been wearing. She watches as he rises to his knees, a gash on his forehead and blood dripping from his ears too.

Quick but careful, she makes her way through destroyed desks and crumpled walls until she's close enough to see how utterly screwed Grey is. A window. He's balanced on a cracked window, one surrounding by other empty window panes.

The boy trembles, helpless as his terrified eyes find hers. She burries her panic, doing her best to appear calm and confident.

"It's ok," she comforts, "I just need you stay very still ok? Let me come to you."

Grey nods, lip wavering in fear. Y/n takes a deep breath, hesitantly stepping onto the panel between two broken windows. When it holds her weight easily, she continues.

"Its breaking," Grey says weakly, peering down the splintering window at the street below them. Y/n doesn't get a good look, but she thinks she can make out two familiar men below. Steve and Bucky. Relief floods through her. They'll send Sam, she just needs to get Grey off that window.

"Don't look down," she instructs, "look at me. Keep your eyes on me."

He complies, tear filled eyes meeting hers again. It's a slow progress, checking the beams to find which ones she can walk on. She does her best to distract Grey, telling him of Sam and the boys below, how she knows they'll be up soon to help. Until then, he's gotta trust her.

"I do," he swears, "I trust you."

And there's relief when she gets a window away from him, prepared to quickly tug him to safety after she steadies her feet. But then the ripped half of the building is quivering, dropping a few feet down and the window is breaking before she gets enough time to grab him.

Panicked, she throws herself out of the window after him, left hand gripping the window pane while the right locks around his wrist. The pull in her shoulder is almost paralyzing as his weight comes to an abrupt stop. She's fairly certain it's dislocated or at the least something's torn, but the adrenaline in her veins keeps her grip strong.

"Y/n!"

Her feet dangle wildly, Grey squeezing her hand for dear life as he hangs 60 feet above ground. Steve and Bucky call out for her, something she doesn't quite pick up because she's too busy trying to calm Grey's hyperventilating body. He's wiggling, panicking, legs swinging in a frenzy like they're trying to find solid ground.

"Grey I need you to stop, if you keep moving I'll slip." As if proving her point, the sweat on her palm becomes slippery. He listens, for the most part, but he can't help the way his body quivers and shakes with cries.

"Sam's grounded!" Steve shouts from below, a panic in his voice she's not used to. "Hang on sweetheart, Stark is coming!"

She doesn't answer, can't answer because her muscles and tendons are screaming and burning, begging her to let go, and the fingers in Grey's hold have gone numb. A few more seconds, painfully long seconds, and the sound of the Iron Man suit floods her ears. Another brief moment of relief, one that also doesn't last because Grey has lost his grip and before she can even think of instructing to him to just hold on for one more second, she loses her grip on the boy and his scream overpowers Tony's thrusters as he falls to the pavement below.

~

Tony got her down safely. Caught her mid fall after she'd jumped after Grey in a weak attempt to save him. By the time her feet touch the ground, she's bolting, heading for the backside of the building where the body of the boy sits. The weak swing of her shoulder and the limp in her right leg slows her down, enough for Bucky to easily catch up to her and halt her. She fights his hold, desperate as he shushes and calms her.

Steve follows closely behind, assisting Bucky in taking care of their girl. Somehow, through a haze they get her to the Quinjet, both working on cleaning up her wounds during the painfully silent flight home. Y/n remains dazed and quiet as they take her to her bedroom, getting her in the shower, bandaged and dressed. Bucky is brushing out her wet hair on the edge of the bed while Steve fluffs the pillows when she finally speaks.

"I had him," she says, voice wavering. "I just needed a few more seconds. If I had held on-"

"Don't do that doll," Bucky interrupts sternly, pulling her into his lap. "don't think about the what ifs, you saved so many lives today. You did what you were supposed to."

She doesn't say anything but they know her well enough to know that she still doesn't believe them. Steve moves to sit next to them, wrapping one arm around her and one around Bucky.

"This job doesn't come without casualties sweetheart, we all know that. You stopped as many as you could and we're so proud of you for that."

His words bring her to tears, painful, heart cutting sobs that force both super soldiers to bite back their own tears. They hold her even tighter, soothing her with kisses and promises of making it better, of assuring her that it won't always hurt.

And once she's all cried out, puffy eyes and bones like cooked noodles, they tuck her into the middle of the bed, sandwiching her between their strong, warm bodies. Somewhere safe and comforting, where she can rest knowing they've got her and they won't be letting go anytime soon.

[dreamkidddream]

Hi, I like your work.

If you could I have an obey me request of the brothers and( if possible the undatebles). About a mc who is changing their habits to be healthier (like exercise and healthy eating).

Cause thats what am doing at the moment and I would like the encouragement.

Thanks

Good luck with your journey and you can do it! I’ll probably do the Undateables in a separate fic, but I’ll definitely do them in the future. Reader is gender neutral!

The Brothers with MC Who Wants to be Healthier

Lucifer

He supports you, just don’t let it get in the way of your studies 

Doesn’t really understand why but he doesn’t voice it aloud, and he likes that you’re actually making the effort too, showing a surprising amount of self discipline

He was amused (and worried) when you started working out with Beel, but was relieved when you came back okay and not missing any limbs

Still makes him worry though

He’s too busy to try and workout with you, but he does try to change his eating habits so you don’t feel like you’re doing this alone

(And this would explain why he’s been just a little bit crankier in the mornings since he cut back on his coffee intake. He won’t give it up completely, but he’s trying for you)

He does well keeping you on track though and knowing how strict he can be, it never got to the point of being overwhelming. It’s just his way of encouragement because he really means well and wants the best for you

Praises you so much, and you know it’s the truth too because Lucifer doesn’t just say anything to anyone. And takes his time in showing just how he is of you too, especially behind closed doors

He’s super proud of you, and he’s smug about it too. You’re his, you bear his pact mark on you, so he can’t help but show off your progress. It’s his sin, after all 

Brags to Diavolo like the proud boyfriend he is

Mammon

He somewhat understands, but doesn’t at the same time. You look beautiful, stunning, hot, sexy FINE to him, but if that’s what you wanna do, you’re not doing it alone!

(He claims that you owe him some Grimm and that you’ll discuss payment later, but he’s honestly just excited to be doing this with you and doesn’t know how to handle it)

When he says that you’re not doing it alone, he wasn’t kidding. He’s right alongside you (even though he’s already by your side literally all day every day) putting in the effort 100%, and he’s a great motivator too!

Mammon is a model, so working out and healthy diets aren’t new to him. He takes on the role as your very own personal trainer, even if he forgets that you can’t eat all the food that he can or do everything that he can since you’re human

He’s confused but he’s got the right spirit!

His energy is just contagious! Doesn’t matter what you guys did, whether it was eating something instead of the usual Hellfire noodles or coming back after you guys finished a run, he’s always facing you with a blinding smile on his face every time

Mammon is basically your partner in crime and vice versa, so DUH he was gonna do this with you! What kind of first man would he be if he didn’t?

You’re not alone in this MC, and he’ll make sure it stays that way

Leviathan

OOF, he feels like he’s the wrong person to approach with this

It’s not like he doesn’t want to support you! He does! But, we all know how he feels about doing anything physical or doing anything that will take him away from his safe haven...

(With the exception of video games, anime, and Ruri-chan of course)

He REALLY doesn’t understand why you’re doing this, to him it’s like pure torture!

But, he sees how happy you look and how much energy you have now, so (with your help) he looked at it from a different angle...

That you were LEVELING UP

That’s what got him hype

(He still wouldn’t do it with you unfortunately)

He would unironically go on one of his rants and just be in awe at how much you’re powering up, waayyy better than his video game characters or some weak anime MCs; it’s just his way of encouraging you to keep going

He’s still too embarrassed to be straight forward to you, but you’re an inspiration to him. He expects nothing less from his Henry!

(If you see him trying to do any type of exercise in his room: no you didn’t!)

Satan

He finds it endearing to be honest, and he’s glad to help. Maybe he can find some helpful information in one of his books...

He’s not gonna act like your personal trainer like Mammon but he’s gonna be like your personal tutor but for your health!

“MC, make sure you don’t overdo it. I know you want to keep pushing yourself- and you’re doing more than a spectacular job- but you’ll end up hurting yourself if you overexert. How about you do some stretches as a cool down instead?”

Believe it or not, if he does do any type of workout with you (which would be somewhat rare), it would be stretches, only because it is somewhat calming and helps with how tense his body can be

And he enjoys the time he gets to spend with you

But he’s never afraid to give you motivation or give you compliments; he does it proudly and rather bold

Even if it seems like he’s just teasing you, Satan is being 100% honest. You’re already perfect in his eyes, but it just makes it more obvious seeing you doing something for yourself and being happy about it

Asmodeus

I feel like Asmo would be one of the most helpful brothers (besides from Beel of course) because he likes to take care of himself, and that includes eating healthy and working out

Even though doesn’t like to sweat and he hates the idea of feeling gross, he won’t whine (as much) because it’s something that he wants to do. He’s very big on self-love and having confidence, and he’s a firm believer in feeling good about yourself always, no matter what shape or size you are. After all, you gotta feel good to look good!

Plus, he has taken some devilishly selfies of his sweat glistening on him and he knows his fans go wild for those~

But this isn’t about him right now, you should’ve said something sooner MC, he’s glad to help!

Gives you new recipes to taste test together too! New recipes to try with you + new DevilTube videos= a recipe for views (and more time to be selfish with you)

GYM SELFIES

Also prepare to wear matching gym gear too. You guys are going to make progress and in style!

One of his favorite full body workouts hat he loves to do with you is yoga. Not only does it really become a peaceful time for you both to share, but it also gives him the opportunity to show just how flexible he is and how flexible he can make you~

Seriously though, Asmo is here for this! He will always be the first one to praise you for your accomplishments, and even if you feel like it’s small or that you didn’t really accomplish anything, he’ll make sure to prove you wrong

Beelzebub

He caught you doing some workouts in your room, and when he spotted you, it only meant one thing-

WORKOUT BUDDIES

You didn’t even have to ask him for help because he was already 100% on board with it

It’s only a handful of times that you’ve seen Beel be so serious before, so you were shook tbh

But don’t worry, it’s still gonna be tons of fun for you both!

He’s not gonna micromanage you or anything, and he invites you to his workouts all the time. Even if you have to remind him sometimes that you’re a human and you can’t just lift 1000 pound weights like it’s nothing-

The best spotter, no questions asked. If he even thinks that you’re struggling or he sees your arm shake in the slightest, he’s already behind you, holding up the bar and asking if you’re okay

If weights aren’t your thing or if you don’t feel comfortable going to the gym, he doesn’t mind doing at home workouts either! And he’s the best at correcting your form too

Even though he’s known for his insatiable appetite, he’ll still eat healthy with you. He may not know a lot about human food, but he does know what’s good for the body

Of course he still eats full course meals and will just burn it off like nothing, but he can skip out on Madame Screams’ pastries if it means keeping you motivated

You try to tell him that it’s okay for him to eat whatever, but he’s already shaking his head at you, telling you that you guys are in this together, and that’s that

You ended up splitting some sweets with him on your cheat day because you a.) felt bad and b.) wanted to thank you for being the best gym partner ever

He ate majority of it but still

Not to mention the encouragement that he’s always giving you! If it’s an off day or you feel like you didn’t do your best or enough, he’s already there giving you a smile and pulling you back on your feet, saying how much you’ve improved and how far you’ve come, and Beel isn’t the type to just say anything. He really means every word, and it’s more than enough to keep you going

And his high-fives >>>>>>>

The couple that gains together stays together, and he won’t lie; he feels more pumped in his workouts with you by his side

Belphegor

You weren’t coming home for your daily afternoon cuddle session(s), and when you did come home you were drenched in sweat and brushed him off for a shower. It went from occurring just once a week to every other day, and it was making him moodier than usual

When you explained it to him, he was whiny but supportive. Of course he supports your journey to a better lifestyle! He’ll just be supporting you from the comfort of his bed-

You’re definitely dreaming if you think you’re about to get him to join you working out (you should’ve went to Beel if that’s what you’re looking for)

But he’s great at being your cheerleader though! He stays in the room while you’re working out and he’s really cheering you on with his little chants (I mean it’s while he’s lazing around but still are you really surprised?), but you can’t help but still find it endearing and a way to stay positive

If ya’ll seen the new episode you understand what I mean lmao

He’s not one for moving around, but he can help you with what you eat

He’s pretty decent in the kitchen, and he’s got some safe-for-humans healthy snacks that he “borrowed” from Beel and some recipes that he got from Barbatos and Asmo

(Somehow Solomon overheard and volunteered himself to cook and Belphie doesn’t think he ever ran so fast in his life before when he walked away to go grab his “recipe book”)

Makes small remarks about your progress and says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, showing that he does notice the changes you’re making even if you don’t. Really helps you stay motivated!

His words may come off as dry and sarcastic sometimes, but he means well. He may have a bit of a hard time showing that he cares, but he does. And he cares a lot about you, more than he can express

Is also prepared to give you cuddles as both rewards and to make up from before