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gutsby · 2 months ago

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Bloodline

Pairing: Dark!Marcus Acacius x Reader

Summary: The General needs an heir.

Warnings: 18+. NONCON. FORCED IMPREGNATION. Unprotected p-in-v. Arranged marriage. Throatfucking. Face-slapping. Breeding kink. Praise and degradation. Age gap. Dacryphilia. Fear play. Omitting one tag to avoid spoiling the ending—please read at your own risk.

Note: Silphium and pennyroyal (or ‘glechium’) were herbs commonly used for contraceptive purposes in ancient Rome.

Word count: 4.4k

You woke up knowing you were fucked.

In more ways than one: today brought your husband home from his latest campaign in Germania, and last week, your only batch of contraceptives was running low. Now, it was gone. You cursed the apothecary who had sworn she would procure your silphium drink before you were to see the General again, but presently, there was nothing more to be done. You had tracked your cycle and knew you were ovulating that week. You just hoped your husband would be too battle-weary and overwrought to seek a place in his bed, between your own legs, tonight.

‘Down’ came the order before the door to your chambers had even closed behind Marcus Acacius later that day.

Down meant he wanted you lying back.

Down meant your thighs had better be spread apart by the time he reached the bed. He wasn’t a patient man.

Down meant your meticulous menstrual contrivances had all been for nothing; you had been married to the General for almost a year, and in that time, you had promised yourself you would never bear him a child. While the only reason for your being forced to wed in the first place was to give him a son, you despised the idea of being the Emperor’s pawn. A vessel for the next awful bloodlusting boy to be born—you had been a present from your uncle Geta to Acacius, and ever since then, you had come to hate them both. You drank your herbal teas daily, without them ever knowing, and you feigned ignorance when, after months and months of the General’s best efforts, you never fell pregnant by him.

Today might very well be the day to change all that, if you had to judge by the look in your husband’s eyes, though.

The harsh, dark irises were alight as he approached you. Their gaze betrayed little more intrigue—or curiosity to know how you had been these last three weeks he was gone—than sheer lust. You could see it in his movements while he peeled his armor apart and drank your body in.

He shrugged the last scrap of metal and fabric away and climbed over you in bed. His motions were graceless, and his body was heavy. He smelled of dirt and blood.

“Wider,” he told you.

Wider your legs spread. He slipped between them, and with an affectionless, rough grip, he grabbed your wrist.

“Touch,” he commanded.

You obeyed that, too. Your fingers were guided to, and wrapped gingerly around, the thick, warm base you had come to know well since marrying Acacius. He pulsed proudly beneath your hand, and the grunt he gave said he was expecting this the whole long while he had been away. You stroked him slowly. Firmly. Contemplating.

“My love—” you started, low.

“Quiet.” Your husband’s voice swiftly supplanted yours.

It bid you to do as you were told, and open your mouth for nothing else but to pleasure the appendage you held.

You knew better than to speak in moments like these. But you also feared, for very good reason, that if you didn’t interject now, you may never get a chance to prevent this dreaded thing. It would only get harder.

He would only get harder.

“Husband,” you tried more warmly, stroking his cock as though you loved him, like weren’t repulsed by the thought of birthing his son. You forced your gaze up, too.

And no sooner had you done that when a hand landed across your face. Your cheek flamed; your skin bristled.

“My sweet wife insists on being heard, does she?” the General broke in, and you could tell it was through teeth, “Does it look like I’ve even begun to fuck you yet, girl?”

You shook your head that it didn’t. Your face stung, and you were about to look away when you felt the same hand that had delivered the last blow take your chin.

The General tilted it back up to his.

You felt him harden even more seeing tears start to well.

“Whatever it is, tell me after. I’ve waited too long for this.”

From his tone, you could tell that meant more than sex.

An heir.

He must have known you were withholding something.

Your hand moved quicker. More nervously. Worrying.

“Allow me to…to use my mouth, then. I-In other ways.” You hated even saying it. Your voice trembled as you did.

Silently, you braced yourself for another hit. Your wrist worked relentlessly, moving up and down the man’s shaft with little more intelligible thought in your head than the fear of being punished by him, when it stopped.

The General halted all movements of your hand. He eyed you once, uncaring, and then shook his head. The next thing you knew, you were being shoved off of the bed.

You never thought you would feel such relief sinking to your knees on the floor. You were good at this—could finish your husband off in under two minutes, easy—and for once, you were happy to feel the man’s fist in your hair. Holding you firm, guiding you fast, and being his normal gruff, callous self to force you onto his cock.

He filled your mouth quickly. Though it might not have meant much to a girl who had never seen, much less sucked, a dick in her life before becoming a wife, Marcus was big. He fit uncomfortably between your lips and stretched your jaw until it ached. At length, you let him move your face up and down, again and again, wetting his shaft with your slick, shiny, delicate strings of saliva. You almost felt grateful to be made to move so fast, so your tongue couldn’t get fully acquainted with his taste. You gagged lightly when he shoved you down to the base. Your eyes rolled back; his belly grazed your nose.

“You look better when I’m in you,” Marcus said coldly.

He dragged your head back, and you inhaled a breath. Your eyes rose to his, and he smiled—he saw tears again.

You blinked and let your expression fall limply, knowing how much he loved seeing you weak. You took the tip between the seam of your lips, and you kissed it once. Then you kissed it again. Your mind grew dizzy with the idea that you might actually get to swallow his load and be left alone the rest of the night if you only kept going.

You opened wider to do just that when next you heard:

“You’ll look better with my child inside you.”

As if galvanized by some sharp, unseen electric current, you wrapped your lips around his head. Fully. You tried enveloping the rest with your mouth, desperate to get your husband’s mind off of putting himself anywhere but at the back of your throat, and you hummed. The man above you gladly pushed himself further. You choked.

And just when you were about to force a breath through your nose, flatten your tongue and prepare to go deeper on the man you disliked most in this world, you felt him coax your gaze up to him. Tears were streaming down your cheeks at this point. You had to blink once or twice to even see him. When you had, you found him beaming.

For once, the General’s gaze was soft as he watched you.

You felt him tug your hair forward, and your lips went with it. Your throat resisted at first, but then it relented. In just a few moments, he was sliding down your throat.

You felt powerless. Your husband seemed to know.

“We’ve been unlucky, haven’t we?” he asked.

Surely, the question was meant to be rhetorical, for you couldn’t move your mouth without gagging on his cock.

Instead, you blinked. More tears flowed down your face.

“Nearly a year of being my wife, and still no child.” If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve taken him for contrite.

He sounded like he could’ve been forlorn, but the tone he used was too smooth. Slow. His voice was like molasses, almost. And then he moved his hips and sank in deeper. Your throat opened because it had no say in the matter.

You blinked harder, and more tears fell.

Please cum, please cum, please cum—

“I have it on good authority that a girl your age should be as fertile as anything. It shouldn’t take this long to take.”

—just finish, just finish, just finish where you are.

Marcus shifted again, and this time, you couldn’t control the spasm in your throat. You just coughed, and sputtered, and gagged down his length. You jerked your head pathetically under his hold, and just barely were you able to steal a gasp of air. The man loosened up.

And though his touch was less tight, his voice almost soft, and his eyes as bright as they had ever been, the words that followed after struck your senses like a fire.

Practically searing the insides of your skull when it came:

“You wouldn’t happen to know why that is, would you?”

You would’ve liked to swallow, but your esophagus was too chock-full of cock. Your lips were stretched, tongue flattened along his length, and your cheeks were now glistening with tears—from the strain of your husband’s intrusion, for one, and the fear of what he might already know, for another. You felt the head of his cock slide deeper down your wet and velvety channel before carving a path back up. Its ascent was slow. Teasing.

The fingers that were threaded through your hair held your head in place as he withdrew all the way to the tip.

“Answer me, wife.”

When you hesitated, the General slapped you again. His cock fell out of your mouth, and you coughed reflexively.

“I-I-I don’t…I don’t know what—”

“Think harder.”

A hit was shortly delivered to the other side of your face. You flinched, and winced, and right before you tried answering again, you felt your jaw forced open for something else. Rather than being made to let words fill the space, your husband’s cock was thrust in. It went far.

Your mouth was leaking with drool now. You couldn’t contain the spit. If anything, the General seemed to enjoy that as he slid himself further. Then he grunted.

“Why is it I’ve filled you with enough cum to paint the fucking Coliseum, and you still haven’t give me a son?”

You gagged. Your hands flew to his strong, bare thighs to grab the flesh out of habit, and once again, he withdrew.

“Why?!”

“I don’t know!”

Of course you did.

Still, you shook your head and kept your gaze plastered on his, begging for some shred of lenience. If he’d had any within him, you reckoned you weren’t seeing it that day. Before you could stop him, the General forced his way back into your mouth, and shortly down your throat.

“I think you’re a lying—” He jerked his hips once, to stab the very back of that place, “—pathetic fucking whore.”

You tried to whine in protest, but the sound was shortly muffled by his cockhead gliding back and forth in that wet, fleshy passage. Its path was suffocating. Your eyes almost rolled back from how fucking awful he tasted.

Please, please, your nails scratched at his legs like some kind of wordless entreaty. Your gaze was glossy and wet.

You could scarcely muster the strength to meet his own, but when you did, you found your husband smiling back.

He slid out of your mouth, and you could breathe again.

“We’ll try once more,” he said, pulling you up to your feet by your armpits, like he might treat a toy he didn’t like. When you were standing upright between his legs, you felt a shudder pass through your frame, and you tried to hide it. He leaned in: “Why haven’t you given me a son?”

“My body must not be r-ready.”

Wrong answer, apparently.

He slapped you again.

By now, your face was blooming with pain. Your skin stung, and your eyes burned, and you could still feel a trace of his precum trickling down your throat, and you hated him so much. But you had to be stoic. Insensitive.

Inventive.

“Silphium,” you stuttered out, before swallowing the awful tang you sensed and recollecting yourself, barely, “Pennyroyal, too. I hear there are…concoctions that help to make the womb more…more…hospitable, I believe.”

You were lying through your fucking teeth. Knowing your husband was far too dense and war-crazed to have ever consulted an apothecary in his life, and hoping he’d be stupid enough to accept whatever it was you said. When it came to things concerning your health, he rarely cared.

You swallowed hard and for once, felt a little more stable.

Then you were shoved onto the bed again, and any semblance of composure was sucked from your bones. You fell pathetically against the plush, satin covers of maroon and gold and were prone for no more than two seconds before the General started tearing your clothes.

“We’ll see,” he said simply.

He flipped you onto your back, and you writhed without really meaning to. You were operating on pure instinct, feeling a man nearly three times your age moving his hands across your front and ripping fabric left and right. It wasn’t fair. You could hold your tongue if he hit you hard enough, but your muscles fared worse when it came to constraining their natural inclinations. You kicked your feet, you squealed, then you begged him—

“Please, stop! I’m not ready yet! I can’t— I can’t— STOP!”

This was just like your wedding night. Only worse, because you knew exactly what lay in store with harrowing clarity and certainty. The General grinned.

“Pennyroyal, huh?” he sneered, yanking your clothes away while you thrashed and tried to push his hands off, “Is that what my wife needs to be ‘ready’ to bear sons?”

“Yes!”

“Silphium?”

“Please, please.”

There were fresh tears brimming in your eyes when he peeled the last scrap of covering off of your body and shoved you back down. You were shaking, and he was smiling, and as much as you knew the man hated being defied, you reckoned he took pleasure from the chase. Seeing the moisture well up and spill, feeling you crawl back in bed, meet his greedy, calloused hands and beg him over and over again not to make you do it, not now.

You could hardly even see him through your tears, but you felt him. Sensed his lower half forcing its way between your legs and then his member coming to rest on your belly. You squirmed at the feeling of your spit still coating him, and now brushing against you. You sobbed.

“You can’t keep forcing yourself inside me—”

“I can.”

“Won’t make a baby stick if you just—”

“I will.”

You felt betrayed. All your life you’d been force-fed these sunny, sanguine ideals of what motherhood was going to be, and this was all it was? After cherishing that prized thing between your thighs—like virginity were some real gift to be given—for so long, this is who owned it now? The General hadn’t had so much as a fraction of the compassion or patience a wife needed to feel secure. He didn’t treasure you, or care for your pleasure, or do anything to soothe the ache of his repeated intrusions. You couldn’t begin to think what he’d be like as a father.

Presently, he smoothed your hair from your face; not to comfort you any, but to make sure that he could see your expression when he sank himself in. When he took again.

“We’ll have to seek the Emperor’s best,” he murmured.

Your husband gripped one of your knees, and at the same time, held himself. You felt his thick, leaking head trail from your navel to your pubic bone, down exactly where you wanted him least. You tried to protest, but his grasp on your leg only tightened. He pressed you down into the mattress and wiped his cock between your folds.

“This pennyroyal you mention…” Marcus went on.

For some reason, your legs tensed as he said it.

“Or silphium. Whatever it is. Can we get it?”

His tip teased your soft, swollen clit—a place he rarely cared to touch—and, against your will, your body started.

Some minuscule ripple of pleasure there. You swallowed.

“Yes. We can. Please, just—” You glanced down between your body and the General’s then, and the sight nearly sent your head spinning. He looked so big. And cruel. And dripping with precum across your puffy, wet skin.

He knew this act well. You knew this act well enough, but for some reason, you thought your actions aimed at forestalling the inevitable might succeed this time.

You reached for his wrist, and your eyes pleaded with his.

“Don’t do this again,” you whimpered, feeling pathetic.

The General only shook his head, and he held on tighter.

“As your husband, I’ll do this as often as I please. And you’ll learn to like it, if you just stop fighting,” he said.

He found your dripping entrance, like he always did.

“Just let me in. Let me feel her, honey, I deserve it.”

You shook your head, but he pushed on anyway. Your stomach clenched, your walls tensed, and, in spite of your body’s strongest attempts, your husband notched the first inch of himself inside. He let out a happy sigh.

“That’s it. That’s a good wife,” he told you contentedly.

His girth was too much. It was always too much. No matter how slow he went, or how much you tried to prepare yourself, it always hurt. You whimpered at that feeling and had to bite your bottom lip to keep the sound from slipping out. Marcus nodded and kissed your cheek

“Sweet girl. ‘S’all she needed, see? One little inch, or—”

His words were cut short. Then he thrust in all the way.

“—eight, maybe.”

You shrieked and met his palm. It clamped over your lips.

That first stroke was torture. Dragging back was even worse. Re-sheathing himself and making you listen to his wretched grunts and groans of pleasure was pure agony.

“Will the herbs help? Pussy feels plenty ready to me.”

He was mocking you now. Your whines were stifled under his hand and your walls were forced wider for his girth as he sawed back and forth, over and over, without mercy.

“Nod if you want it,” he panted, “Nod if you need that.”

You weren’t sure if he meant the herbs or him. Slowly, and knowing he’d hit you if you didn’t, you nodded.

The General grinned. He didn’t hesitate to speak again.

“Good. Now you can stop soliciting apothecaries behind my back and using these same herbs as contraceptives.”

Your stomach dropped. Your eyes widened, though you knew it was a stupid thing to do when the man’s gaze was practically scorching through your own. You froze.

Your husband wedged his cock even deeper, and you felt him in your cervix—unprotected from any medicine now.

Medicine that he knew about, too, apparently.

You had no choice but to whimper when he kept digging his strong hips into yours, repeatedly, battering that soft, sensitive, defenseless place with his dick like he owned it. You wanted to kick your legs but sensed it was useless. General Acacius would get what he wanted.

What he needed was a son. You could see it in his eyes.

“My stupid, silly wife,” the General chided you, now fucking in deeper than he’d done before. Taunting, “I hope our son gets my brain, or the poor boy’s fucked.”

You wanted to cry. You were still sobbing, but the tears had come with such force before that there didn’t seem to be enough moisture in your body to allow them now. Any wetness, it seemed, was inside your legs, allowing your husband to pound into you with complete abandon.

Skin slapped skin. The man’s breaths grew quicker, more frantic, while your own you wished would halt altogether. His hand moved from your mouth to take your chin in his palm; he looked proud as he drilled your soft, limp body.

“Finish. Please,” you whimpered, all fight extinguished.

You didn’t know what else to say. Your husband had caught you, somehow, and probably knew as well as you that your body would now be forced to accept whatever he gave it. When that warm, throbbing member between your legs had had its fill and the man had decided he’d humiliated you enough, he’d paint your insides white. He’d shoot thick, hot ropes of cum where you’d dreaded him most, and in all likelihood, that seed would take. If not today, then tonight, tomorrow or the next day—there was no clear end in sight until the General had secured the heir he so desperately wanted. What Geta promised.

And you would be a mother, whether you liked it or not.

Every subsequent thrust, grunt, and groan rang hollow to you then. It was like your mind was lost from your body, your brain an open wound, and what was left of you simply splayed on that bed. Unmoving. Unfeeling. Being fucked and filled up without a modicum of concern for your humanity. Or what remained, anyway.

When he was finished and he could feel your body stuffed with his greedy, sticky release, the General leaned down and planted a kiss on your forehead.

He seemed more confident than ever as he spoke.

“I can feel my legacy has already been cemented.”

As it turned out, a month was enough.

Within the year, you gave birth to a son.

This was no great shock to you—getting forcefucked every night for five weeks straight would’ve done the trick for any woman in your position, you supposed.

What surprised you most was how gentle the General became after learning you were pregnant with his child. Ever the paragon of paternal affection and husbandly devotion to you from that moment forward, you were convinced the man had been transformed overnight. He never spoke so much as an unkind word to you, or gave a glance that said anything less than that he was in love and elated to help you bring new life into this world. He never forced himself on you in bed. You could sleep again

One morning, you were cradling your baby in your arms. In just a few short weeks, you had already memorized every inch of his soft, sweet face. And you knew from the first you’d never love a single creature more on this earth

When your husband approached, you smiled—beaming.

“How is my son?” came the deep warble of his voice.

You drew the blanket back an inch with just your finger; beneath the soft cloth, the two of you could see that the infant was sleeping peacefully. He made a delicate sound, and you were half-certain you could hear the General’s heart splintering in two along with it. He dropped to his knees beside you, where he leaned in near and let his eyes say all the rest. They were cheery. Wet.

Sometimes, you, too, enjoyed seeing him cry.

You pet his wavy grey locks and gave them a tug.

“Is he exactly as you pictured? Your legacy?” You smiled.

Marcus blinked, letting two warm tears trickle down.

“Better than I could have dreamed him myself.”

That made your heart swell with a still larger ache. This was all your husband had ever wanted—wrapped up in your arms and swaddled with wool. Your son looked like him, too. You could see the General’s appreciation of this every time his eyes fell to the child, and every time his gaze drifted to you. There was admiration. Adoration.

Love, for once.

“Will he be a soldier like his father?” you asked next.

“A much braver one than I ever was.”

“Will he do Emperor Geta proud by this calling?”

Once more, your husband’s eyes flitted from the baby up to you. His look was soft as he reached out for your hand.

“There isn’t a doubt in my mind of that, my love.”

You squeezed his palm. You couldn’t help yourself.

“And will he carry the Acacius family name with pride?”

At that, the General’s hesitation was even shorter than the last. He swiftly confirmed that his son would, indeed, wear his name like a badge of honor. There wasn’t a shred of uncertainty on that front, he assured you.

His smile was so wide you couldn’t help but mirror it.

Even as you slid the knife from in between the folds of your son’s blanket, you were smiling at him all the while.

“And what if he doesn’t?” you asked quietly.

The General’s gaze fell to the blade next.

You thought he might die on the spot.

“What if he bears no name at all?”

The serrated edge now hovered over the baby’s throat. When Marcus jerked toward the thing, instinctively, you only lowered it more. Brought the silver closer to skin.

“Please— You— you can’t— can’t— can’t— please stop.”

He was fumbling for words. You didn’t blame him.

“Your precious legacy is a fragile thing, General.”

And with that, you drew the knife closer.

Your husband let out a strangled noise.

Right when he rose to knock the weapon out of your hand, you took it and flipped it back around to him.

Your first stab was swift. Into his chest.

“My child will never know your name.”

It was clear the injury stunned him.

When you plunged the knife in again, the man let out another sound—this time, a grunt of pain—and you wedged it deeper. You didn’t flinch when his face twisted

“My son will take my name.”

Frankly, with the trauma your blade had already inflicted on his chest, you didn’t expect the General to be able to say a word. Or resist. By the look of horror in his eyes, you could tell he was capable of listening, though.

Now, he would be forced to hear it all.

See his own life taken away from him.

And feel the blade thrust in when you punctured his front for the third and final time. Your eyes were shining now.

Still cradling your child, still holding his gaze, still smiling like this was the single greatest day you’d lived to see.

“Acacius, your bloodline dies with me.”

#NICHE INTEREST HOTTIES HELLO (there are maybe four people who share this kink with me)#WHICH IS FINE #FORCED IMPREG IS AN ACQUIRED TASTE…..MOSTLY FOR INSANE PEOPLE #marcus acacius smut #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius one shot #marcus acacius imagine #marcus acacius #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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zzencat · 4 months ago

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Your Future Spouse As A Mythical Creature + Qualities - ⏳

Welcome to the spooky season folks!! Thought this would be a pretty lightweight and goofy type of reading as we settle in. What are your FS’s qualities? Toxic habits?

Choose wisely. Applicable to future lover or spouse.

Warnings: super long read, suggestive comments (bordering NSFW), some exaggerated details for the fun of it (but the theme and characteristics are still consistent otherwise), toxic tendencies

🥀 THE RITUAL: Clear your mind. Time is now patient and still. Close your eyes, inhale deeply, fill your chest up to the fullest, feel the soft air brush up against the ridges of your nose. Breathe out.

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Pile 1 | The Werewolf

Perfectionistic as hell, likely a planner

The horniness comes and stays fellas…

Extremely careful before decision making, yet impatient (more mentally)

Hides what they really feel. Has a hard time expressing their emotions through words, so your person (well, half-person) shows you instead

Might be wealthy or does very well w/ business or business partners

ALWAYS thinks before they act

very PRIMAL tendencies; will bust major nuts when persuading you to be bred…literally. the need to breed you can become suffocating as it seeps into small actions of daily life. will never stop bugging you about it. eventually, these efforts will increase and become more desperate (but hey, if you like that, go for it 😳)

^^the thought of having a family with you gets them down real bad

EXTREMELY overprotective and possessive over how revealing your clothes might be. don’t be surprised if they finally let you out of the house after you choose to wear a hazmat suit

• will do anything for you!!!! provide food, shelter, money… as long as you depend on them, they feel at their highest.

•^^ this can also indicate an incessant need for control and control over you as well

• typically chooses the safe route; sticks to routes they’re already familiar with and practicality

•^^polite with people or at least acts like a civil person, but is easily misjudged regardless

• kind of old school and can be boring; follows reserved traditions very well

• actually is a beast in the sheets, but prob only does vanilla positions

• is very, very hesitant about letting you go out at night and will bust balls to get you to stay inside

• can get overly paranoid over small things that can potentially harm you

slow, sensual, deep lovemaking sometimes—rough and wild, sloppy and fast at others—just totally unable to control themselves. this is bc they exercise so much control during the day that nights leading up to the full moon, or on the night of, are relentless. Also likes doin’ the dirty in the kitchen (i also see boiling soup and an apron if those have any significance)

grumpy in the morning hahaha. grumpy when you order them to do anything for you, but they’ll do it anyway

When they love, they LOVE. Extremely big hearts and easily empathetic, but never/rarely shows it

for some reason, your fs has a solution or piece of advice for every problem in existence

strong or bold looking, big and broad, intimidating, or a very tall person. might have a resting bitch face

a very good listener

• full moons are equivalent to menstrual cycles where their senses are heightened by tenfold, sensitive to everything in their surroundings (ex: ears perk up to sounds as unnoticeable as leaves rustling…), more emotionally reactive, a ceaseless desire for sex everyday—which gets worse as the full moon approaches 🙈—hastier movements, increased moodiness and appetite, goes out hunting more often. 50/50 have a messier diet or a more strict one

• structured or routined day to day

• has probably talked/will probably talk about raising a family with you at least once, becoming more adamant about it over time

• can seem very insensitive or come off as an asshole at times

• EXTREMELY observant; almost nothing gets past their eyes. It’s almost like an intense OCD thing. Pretty sure a lot of FS in this pile are control freaks or have very specific triggers

• can smell when you’re aroused. if you deal with periods, they know exactly what phase you’re in and keep track of monthly cycles. this is also how they can keep an eye on your fertility and “breedability” levels. likely to show clinginess during these times and try to make moves on you. (it’s a manipulation tactic, don’t fall for it!! 😳)

•^^when you get aroused, they get aroused. they’ll decide to make a move depending on the circumstances

• they have good control and discipline over themselves in general. But they’re still prone to control issues, esp over other people, or obsessiveness

Definitely an overthinker. They don’t like to be vulnerable emotionally. It’s very hard to get close to this person, and even harder to open up

doesn’t care about your “flaws” and doesn’t notice until you point them out; will be genuinely surprised to hear you have insecurities, bc to your fs, there’s no such thing. they don’t understand how you could feel that way about yourself or certain things about yourself

In some kind of leadership role (in work, relationship, or the home) or in a high enough position to give and support. Dominant in the sheets—stubbornly prefers to be

Loves to travel or would travel more if they could

Extremely adaptable and an all rounder; does well under pressure and in uncomfortable situations/environments

Likes bantering and stirring things up on purpose sometimes. Sometimes they’re feelin kinda bratty and will instigate. They fight just to fight. They’re usually quiet, reserved, or introverted

• deep down they know this and they’d even admit it to you if you asked, but they’d be totally onboard with you never going outside again and just staying in the house (it’s a possessive wolf thing maybe)

• you might not know at first, and they might not show it evidently, but they love sad karaoke songs or sad songs overall

Primary love language: Acts of service, physical touch, quality time, and gift giving

• *sniffs you with suspicion* “…that’s not my scent…”

• standing watch over you when you use a knife to cut vegetables — says, “are you sure you don’t need my help?” at least 5x in 2 mins, and still doesn’t leave after that

• stare wars with birds on a pole bc they felt offended by the birds staring first

• randomly, abrupt howling on some nights

“You take what I give you”

Acts as your personal bodyguard- will actually fight anyone for you

• loves to smell around your neck area- that shit kinda tickles tho

• (if your werewolf is male): “change out. that’s too revealing. you know men are dogs.” (lmfaooo? says who, the werewolf??)

• scolds you like a damn parent because you went outside at night for a few minutes to get some fresh air

• massages your thighs and feet

• physical contact is a must for them when watching movies with you

—————————————

Pile 2 | The Vampire

• “I ‘vant tu zuck yur blud.”

• a bit of a vanity monster (as most vampires are.) they like the way they look, and also care about how they present themselves to other people and most importantly, looking hot as hell in front of you, maybe too much at times. but from your pov, they really don’t have to try. they’re just naturally…wow. Breathtaking. HOWEVER!!! They use it to their advantage.

• Actual sass-squashes. They’re sassy and for no reason, but you can’t take them seriously when they are 😂😂

• intentionally AND unintentionally funny. like those characters on Disney channel shows that are like “oh yeah? try me” and then some bigger, buffer person comes in and they flinch a little. if you squint, you’ll catch a gulp in there too. it’s funny. endearing even. but they gotta own up to their mistakes and tone down on overcompensating. If there’s one thing they do, it’s to make up for what they don’t have.

• L-O-Y-A-L….by the time they get with you, at least. they might’ve had an…interesting reputation in the past. they might seem selfish bc of it—which is partially true. they can charm people to get what they want. They might/might have had a history of partying, hella socializing, hanging out w/ friends whenever they could (haha get it? hanging out? yk…vampire stuff…)

A total charmer and a flirt. They like to bicker and tease you; playful,, sometimes it’s cute…others, kinda annoying

• if you talk to this person seriously and in a calm and diplomatic manner, they’ll get a little defensive, yes, but A LOT less so than if you were yelling and screaming at them outright. if you both just sit down on the edge of the bed, tilt your head to a 45 degree angle and show your concerns, they’ll reflect and maybe deflect here and there, but they’ll think about it throughout the day.

• I think this person goes through varying phases of heat. (Prob not even the right word here but-) By that I mean, sometimes they wanna get down and dirty for 30 hours straight or just session after session after session nonstop—OR they take what they need and leave for a couple hours, come back again, take, and leave. This is odd at first, but it just comes with the moodiness they inherently have, possibly sticking to them from the past life. They might have suffered with commitment issues, and I don’t mean them per se, but the people around them that didn’t know how to love: family, friends, anyone that was close and left abruptly or never showed love. (Made me a lil sad there...)

• Love is complicated. They didn’t believe in it before and was confident they wouldn’t ever. But when you ask them “What do vampires think about love? Are you allowed to love?”, they turn their heads, take a moment to skim over your face in silence. Love…is what I’m feeling with you. They want to admit this, but vampires can’t feel. Would you even believe them? They don’t even know what love is. They don’t even feel heartbeats anymore, but for some reason, when you look into their eyes like that, there’s a different kind of pulsing. A surge of desire that courses through them, screaming at them to keep you forever. They can’t ever let you go now.

•^ This leads us to possessiveness. They are…*phew* VERY possessive and very dramatic/petty/easily sulky about it. You’ll lose your mind over it. If you do something as simple as shopping, they will follow. Too insistent and stubborn not to. What if you encounter another vampire living among the humans during the day, and suddenly, said vampire wants you too? Sure, they get burnt with a bit of sun, so what? They’d evolved enough to wear a million layers of sunscreen and a million layers of clothing over that, all dressed up like a moving heap of clothes. They care about how others might see them like this, of course, but in moments like these, they don’t care when you’re on the line.

• they’ve never really had their emotions looked at carefully or taken care of. It’s always just been brushed off, not only by themselves but by others as well. I personally wouldn’t doubt if they claimed to never have had real friends or friends that cared about the inside substance rather than the outer. Your fs just seems like they’re trying to fit in, be accepted and validated. You wouldn’t be able to tell at first glance, but as you gradually get to know them, you’ll find that their heart is barely being held together by makeshift glue.

Very in tune with their inner divine feminine energy,, not afraid to tap into it and explore that side more

Not that emotionally developed but has major potential to with the right teacher

Nurturing and caring, but might be materialistic or putting too much importance on the material/physical pleasures. Truly lives for the fun of it

Works hard, plays hard—and will shamelessly chase you

Knows exactly what to say and do that will rile you up. Knows all of your weak spots physically

Down to try anything and everything with you, no complaints

Sensual and passionate personality and in the sheets

Super open minded and curious, easygoing and has no expectations. Makes a lot of jokes too.

Daring, optimistic, brave and believes in no limits (but bc of this, they can be seen as naive or have an innocent nature inside.) Gets in half-fights/arguments w/ people for fun

A total switch in bed; can and literally will do/try anything

Now, dare I say…the FS for this pile have the best rizz and sex game

Some fs in here can get too naggy

They have a great fashion sense or an overwhelming appreciation for fashion, beauty, or aesthetics, and is more than willing to be involved in your fashion styles

Red flag moment: solves problems in your relationship w/ sex so that yall will just forget it and move on

In hindsight, this FS is so flamboyant or charming that you could get lost in what they’re trying to express. They’ve got very fiery energy (betting rn that they have extremely prominent fire sign placements).

P.S. yeah after writing this out and reviewing the format, seeing all the back and forth…pile 2 FS def has a perfection mask thing going on. They wanna make themselves appealing in one way or another, or the consequences will just break them into pieces. The last thing that they want is to be alone.

————————-

Pile 3 | The Fairy

Alas, we’ve gotten to arguably the most healthy future spouse here out of the 3 😅 (and the most intuitive)

Introspective as hell and wise. Helps you with really anything

They’re ok w/ being alone; most introverted of the piles

Positive, hopeful, and optimistic when it comes to others. More pessimistic when it comes to themselves.

Balanced and a good mentor; suuuper patient (a lot of times to a fault)

Learns from their losses and mistakes and becomes a better person, improving almost immediately

Mediator type of person, but will defend you against others in argument—which they’ll win btw

They don’t like seeking help from others—if anything, your FS is usually the helper—even when they can ask for help right in front of them- even if it’s recommended to get help, they still won’t do it

Hella infj vibes tho (if you’re into mbti)

Every show of love is their love language. Bonus points if they wear matching clothes or secretly write poems to you that they’ll never tell you about

This future spouse group has the cheesiest and the sweetest person

Your person can lead a life more flexible financially than the other 2 piles

Also an all rounder! But thinks that they aren’t perfect when they literally are; struggles with their own low self-esteem so they try to build other people up

Putting others before themselves is second nature- they ALWAYS prioritize you or others; extremely selfless

^^Now, each fairy got a different role and purpose. The reasoning for your fs being overly selfless and self-sacrificial varies. The easy answer? Insecurity. Second? Obligation or a sense of duty. The list goes on…

They’ve got that Triple A Threat: Amazing Ass Adaptability. Your person has been thru quite a bit, hell and back. Sometimes, life just likes to mess with them for no apparent reason 🤷🏻‍♀️)

They’re always ready to face challenges; Incredibly strong person. They’ll be with you thru thick and thin!!

Strong sense of justice and equality. OH- and also they like traveling or would like to travel more!

A literal inspiration and hope (yes, with sparkles on top.) Not only do they inspire others, but your person—no matter how rock bottom you get—will never leave you.

gets jealous and easily possessive but doesn't wanna show it (shit's still pretty obvious tho)

The type that babbles their heart out when they get comfy with you. They don’t get like this with just anyone

Likely likes museums and art. Things that the media typically deems boring, weird, or unconventional your FS will prob find interesting. They like to look into deeper meanings and interpretations.

In bed, they’re pretty vanilla and soft. But are open to exploring things that aren’t too wild (like our vampire up above)

(Take this bit very lightly: I see that this person has grown up or has been around “broken” people their entire life, so they feel they need to take responsibility on behalf of those people. They might be some kind of counselor, mentor, or therapist. They’re prone to blaming themselves if situations take a bad turn or go unplanned. I’m also hinting here that some of your FS might have a savior complex, and not on purpose. They might always take some kind of leadership role or something directly beneficial to people- nurses, camp leaders, etc…)

They will take all of the burden so that you don’t have to

If your FS had any weirdo or pervy habits, it’d probably be compulsively stealing your panties or building a shrine with locks of your hair on it 😵‍💫 (which hopefully I hope doesn’t happen. I heard in some fairy folklore, they steal babies, like flying away with the newborn-in-a-basket typa thing- and for no reason too! Don’t let them steal yo babies now!!)

———————-

**Ending Teddy note:

As always, thank you so very much for tuning in with us! I hope you have a spooktacular Scorpio season as we are soon heading into it (depending on when you’re reading this), but really you can read this at any time. Rmr to take everything with a grain of salt! Take what resonates, leave what doesn’t. Stay safe out there and rock on people 🤩🤩 Feedback is very much appreciated in any form as it’d help me grow as a reader :)

*This is for entertainment purposes*

825 notes · View notes

entishramblings · 1 year ago

Text

Haunting Me

[Legolas/F!Reader]

A.N: I have been struggling to write (like usual), so I figured I would whip out a no pressure Legolas fic. ANYWAYS, I strangely loved writing this!!! Thanks for the request XOXO

Request: @goose-gremlin — “Could you maybe do a Legolas x Reader on their period?”

Pairing: Legolas X Fem!Reader

Summary: The Reader is a member of Greenwood's Guard and is struggling with menstrual/period pain. Legolas takes care of her.

Disclaimer: I don't know elvish. I use the gracious elvish dictionary. Sue me lol

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: blood, menstruation/period, pain, PMS, slight nakedness (not anything spicy you filthy fools), fluff, sweet precious elf boy

MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD

(Y/N)’s nose twitched, the pungent, musty scent of the incoming vile beasts invaded the fresh earthy tones of the Greenwood forest. Her keen ears picked up on subtle scurrying, the sound carried by the drift of the soft wind. Her jaw clenched and her fingers adjusted the grasp of her sword as she felt the aura of the trees shift—a surge of adrenaline fueling her anxiety, worsening the pain in her abdomen. Briefly locking eyes with the other elves in her sector, spread among the trees alert and ready, she knew their moment of action was imminent.

(Y/N) summoned the little energy she had through a deep inhale, praying to the Valar that these spiders wouldn't be in such a frenzied state. Because, if so, fuck that. For at the present moment in time, she really didn't have the capacity to deal with that absolute, motherfucking horseshit.

Because, truly, getting killed due to slowness from fatigue and cramps from one’s bloodmoon cycle would be rather unfortunate and deeply regrettable. However, facing expulsion from the guard and losing her reputation as one of the hand-picked defenders of the royal line because of it would be even worse.

(Y/N)’s gaze narrowed as Prince Legolas, leader of the Greenwood Guard, raised a closed fist.

Nêl (Three).

Tâd (Two).

Mîn (One).

He opened his palm, signaling the command: Kill them. Kill them all.

With a firm thud, (Y/N)'s boots landed on the soft soil as she sprung from the trees. She was quick with her blade, hunting the spiders as if they were meaningless prey. Her weapon was an extension of her form. Every movement was fluid and graceful, a testament to her mastery of combat. Despite her pain, she spun and twisted with ease, severing the arachnids' limbs effortlessly.

As she fought, she made sure to keep an eye on the Prince, knowing that if anything were to happen to Legolas under her watch, the king would surely banish her. Besides, she harbored no desire for him to meet his demise. She found him rather…admirable. Nothing more than that—of course not.

As (Y/N) advanced upon one of the vile beasts, her senses tingled with warning. Abruptly, she halted in her tracks, narrowly dodging an arrow that whizzed past her stomach. Her eyes narrowed as she wiped her head to see just who fired that arrow. A scoff escaped her lips as she locked eyes with him: Rekón.

When the battle came to an end, (Y/N) strutted towards Rekón, who was wiping the edge of his blade upon his thigh.

“What the hell was that out there?!” She snapped at him.

“What is it you speak of?”

“You nearly put an arrow in me!”

He shrugged. “Perhaps, you should have been faster, Shadowfoot.”

She scoffed at Greenwood’s nickname for her. “You're lucky I am fast. I can assume you don’t want elven blood on your hands—especially my blood.

He sheathed his blade and crossed his arms. “Don’t exaggerate, (Y/N). It’s unbecoming. Besides,” he leaned in and his voice lowered, taking on a snarky tone, “I don't care if you're handpicked by the King to be the Prince’s shadow, you're a pain in the ass.”

“Really, Otuuk Fe`Saign (warg kisser)?! I could have you and your ass in the mud faster than you could say—”

The rather tense interaction was interrupted by Legolas clearing his throat beside the pair. “What is going on over here?” he demanded.

(Y/N) huffed, not taking her eyes off the man before her. “Rekón here nearly redecorated my abdomen with a fucking arrow!”

The Prince sighed. “You know we can’t always calculate every motion on the battlefield, (Y/N). I am sure Rekón meant no harm.” He paused, turning his attention to the ellon. “Rekón, in the future, mind your arrows.”

“That’s the reprimand he gets?! Are you fu—“

Legolas looked at the elleth. “Watch your language, Shadowfoot. I expect this attitude to be gone by the time we enter my father’s halls.”

With that, Legolas walked away, calling out orders to burn the spider carcasses and move out.

As he disappeared into the mess of elves, (Y/N)’s brows pulled downward in a grumpy frown. “Princeling Ass,” she murmured to herself.

Unbeknownst to her, as she turned away, Legolas' gaze followed her, seeking out her form and lingering as she walked away.

….

The sun had not yet risen when the Prince’s sector of the Greenwood Guard arrived back in the Palace. The warriors dispersed into the armory, diligently stowing their weapons and armor in their designated places. (Y/N), however, did no such thing. Instead, with a persistent scowl etched on her face, she marched through the room and passed through the arched exit of the armory—presumably heading towards her chambers. Legolas's gaze tracked her suspiciously as she departed.

As the day progressed, the members of the Prince’s sector resumed their usual routines. Because it was their first day back from patrol, they were exempt from basic guard duties and standard positions. Instead, they utilized the early hours of the morning to bathe and rejuvenate themselves before gathering in the dining hall for breakfast. The remainder of the day was theirs to unwind and compile their patrol reports—the King sought to stay informed about all occurrences and perspectives during patrols, for a darkness seemed to be spreading among his trees.

At supper, Legolas moved among the tables in the dining hall, gathering last-minute reports from the warriors in his sector. As he did so, he scanned the long wooden benches, searching for the scowling gaze that had accompanied the last couple of days of patrol; however, there was no such gaze and no such person that it belonged to. Simply put, there was no sign of (Y/N).

She had missed all three meals and had failed to submit her patrol report.

Legolas cleared his throat before he addressed the elves from whom he was collecting papers. “Have you seen Shadowfoot? I need her report,” he inquired.

They shook their heads, more interested in their food than one missing shadow.

Legolas sighed, but refrained from pressing further. If anyone knew her whereabouts, they would have mentioned it.

Therefore, he made his way to her quarters.

When he arrived, he knocked softly on the door, but was met with silence.

"(Y/N)," he called out, his voice carrying through the wooden barrier.

Still, there was no response.

After a moment’s hesitation, Legolas reached for the door knob and twisted it slowly. The wood swung open quietly under his touch, exposing the darkness of the room beyond. Moonlight filtered in through the opened window, casting shadows that danced across the floor, the curtains billowing gently in the cold night air.

Legolas carefully stepped through the threshold and closed the door behind him. As he took in his surroundings further, surprise crossed his features. He didn't know what he had been expecting since he hadn't been in (Y/N)’s quarters, but it most certainly was not this.

The room was a complete mess. Clothing lay strewn about, along with various trinkets—small hand-carved boxes, beautiful natural rocks, and melted candles absent of flame. Several stacks of books were piled beside the bed, a few of them open and their pages still. Her weapons were scattered haphazardly, some resting on the floor, others on the table or atop the dresser. Legolas even noticed a few knives embedded into the wooden door—a sight that would surely displease Ada.

It was chaotic but calm in a sort of strange way. Typical for (Y/N), he supposed.

The Prince moved to walk further into the room, but was quickly halted against his will. His foot had gotten caught and, if it wasn't for his swift reflexes, he would have face-planted upon the stone flooring.

Legolas sucked in a sharp breath as he stabilized his form. Glancing down, he discovered the culprit—a crumpled tunic tangled around his boot, its fabric caught between the lacings.

He immediately sighed in dismay.

The blond-haired Prince reached down to untangle the stubborn garment. It proved to be a more challenging task than he had anticipated, requiring a few moments of quiet curses and annoyed grunts before he managed to free himself. Carefully, he folded the fabric and placed it upon a nearby chair.

Cautiously, he advanced to the large bed. At first, he could not spot the warrior within, given that the fluffy comforter and mountain of pillows were blocking his view. However, when he pulled back the blankets slightly, sure enough, she was buried deep within. The pillows were arranged around her like a protective nest and she was laying on her side. Her hair was splattered across the cushioned fabric and her expression was…one of pain. Her brows were pulled tight, her nose crinkled, and lips slightly parted.

At this, Legolas frowned, for he was now troubled deeply.

Diligently, the Prince reached out to brush some hair from her face, but just as his fingers made contact with her cheek, his action was interrupted.

(Y/N) suddenly sat up, a knife in hand. With wild eyes, she tried to slam it into his carotid artery.

He reacted quickly, Legolas intercepted her arm, preventing the blade from reaching its target. For a moment, they both froze in that tense position, the gravity of the situation sinking in as they processed what was happening.

(Y/N) was breathing quickly and she appeared very disheveled and confused. It seemed to take her a moment longer to grasp the situation fully.

"Jukkete (fuck)," she breathed out, trying to catch her breath before snapping at him. "Legolas, I almost killed you!"

The Prince still held her wrist. “(Y/N),” he began, “Are you alright?”

She huffed. "You know better than to sneak up on me like that, Princeling!" With a sharp twist, she pulled away from his grasp and settled back into the blankets. “What are you doing here?”

He raised his brows. “Princeling?” he questioned, a hint of amusement in his tone.

(Y/N) only grunted in response.

He sighed. “No one has seen you all day and—“ his sentence abruptly halted as he noticed a red stain upon the comforter. “(Y/N), you are bleeding!” He exclaimed. Without hesitation, he grasped at the blankets, in an attempt to detangle her form from them, as he continued his babbling of concern. “Why didn’t you tell me you were injured on patrol?!”

“Legolas,” she interrupted, her voice firm.

“Is it from Rekón’s arrow?! I thought you said he ‘nearly’ hit you?”

“Legolas,” she tried again.

He yanked the blanket further.” Because I swear to the Valar if it was from him, I will—“

“Legolas! Stop!” She snapped, her patience wearing thin. “I’m not injured.”

His jaw clenched in frustration. “(Y/N), I have been a warrior for all my life, I know the site of blood. That is blood. You cannot lie to me. I am your sector leader, your Prince—“

“Legolas! It’s my bloodmoon cycle!” she interrupted, sitting up to glare at him once more.

An awkward silence settled into the dark room.

“You are in pain,” he stated.

“I’m fine.”

His brows raised again. “Now, why don’t I believe you?”

“Because you're a princeling ass,” she retorted.

“No. Because for the last three days of patrol, your demeanor has been notably irritable, as you are now. You've been favoring your left side, your jaw has remained tightly clenched, and your skin a shade too pale. Not to mention, you've consistently had your hand on your hip, I'm assuming in an attempt to try and alleviate discomfort, and you even vomited behind a tree on two occasions. And, here you are, Shadowfoot, in bed, sleeping the day away in dirty clothes and not caring that you lay in blood.” He paused before finalizing his evidence. “You are in pain.”

“You have been spying on me?! I am supposed to be your shadow.”

“I have been keeping an eye on you,” he clarified.

“Why?!”

The muscle in his jaw twitched. “Because you are a member of my sector. You are my responsibility.”

“You are my responsibility,” she corrected.

He released hot air from his nose. “I am required to keep an eye on all of my warriors, whether they were hand-picked to guard me or not.”

(Y/N) huffed, shaking her head. “Did you know Sethna took a pretty nasty hit to her leg?”

“Don’t try to change the subject,” he gruffed.

“Legolas, did you know about it or not?”

A rather long moment of silence extended into the night before the Prince reluctantly responded in a low tone. “No.”

“Then you don't watch every warrior like you watch me.”

He inhaled slowly, trying to steer the conversation away from what (Y/N) was insinuating. “Is Sethna alright?”

“Yeah, she’s fine.”

Legolas nodded slowly, before returning to the main topic. “Why didn't you tell me you were in pain while on patrol?”

She rolled her eyes before muttering his name. “Legolas.”

“Why haven't you seen a healer?” he persisted.

She exhaled slowly, knowing Legolas wasn't going to let this go. “Because the healers document everything, and those records get attached to evaluations.”

“So?”

“So, I would be dismissed from the guard and relieved of my position!” she snapped.

He snorted lightly. “You would not be dismissed from the guard nor relieved of your position.”

“Others have gotten so for far less!”

Surprising her, his normally collected tone turned into a rough reply. “That doesn't mean that you would have!”

She frowned, her once loud voice now subdued. “What's that supposed to mean?”

He sent her a warning look, his eyes cautioning her against probing further.

Silence reigned for a third time that night before Legolas spoke softly. “Rest. I will draw you a bath.”

“Princeling, I do not need you to draw me a bath. I do not need a bath at all. Like I said, I am fine.”

He shook his head. “You are in pain. Let me help you.”

“Legolas–”

He cut her off. “(Y/N), do not try to argue with me on this. That is an order. Shadow or not, I am your superior and you will listen.”

With that, he stood and made his way into the bathing chambers, leaving the elleth alone with her thoughts.

She let out a slow, contemplative exhale before sinking back into the embrace of the bed once more. Lost in a haze of exhaustion, she must have drifted into a brief slumber, for it was only moments later that Legolas returned, his thumb brushing against her cheek. His voice, barely above a whisper, reached her ears. “(Y/N),” he urged softly. “Come. The water is hot. It will alleviate your pain.”

Groggily, she opened her eyes, confusion evident in the furrow of her brow.

“Come,” he repeated.

Gradually, she sat upwards, letting her legs dangle off the edge of the mattress. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth, praying to the Valar for the pain to settle.

“If the pain is too much, I can carry you,” Legolas offered in a gentle tone.

She scoffed, her eyes opening to glare at him. “I can manage on my own.”

With that declaration, (Y/N) stood up and took a few cautious steps forward. But before she could proceed further, a sharp gasp escaped her lips as the agony surged through her body, causing her to double over.

A comforting warmth enveloped her lower back as Legolas placed a reassuring hand there. He remained silent, respecting her pace and refraining from pressing his earlier offer.

A small whimper escaped her lips, tears threatening to escape from her eyes.

Legolas’ hand began to move in soft circles. “It will pass, Shadowfoot. I am here,” he whispered.

Slowly, she resumed her movement, inching her way towards the bathroom. Upon reaching the basin's edge, she gripped onto the sides tightly. She squeezed her lids shut once more, focusing on her breath.

Standing only inches behind her, Legolas spoke softly. “(Y/N), please, will you let me assist you? I hate to see you suffer.”

She exhaled through her nose, seemingly debating his offer. After a moment of contemplation, she relented. “Fine,” she stated, “but if you breathe a word of this—”

“I will not say a thing. I swear it,” he assured.

She nodded, accepting his promise.

“Let's get you undressed and in the bath then.”

With caution, his nimble fingers found the hem of her tunic and began to lift it over her head. Ensuring her stability by placing one hand gently on her hip, he then carefully guided her trousers downward, assisting her as she stepped out of them. Shaking slightly, she lifted each foot into the tub, one at a time, as the Prince's firm hand remained securely on her waist. Slowly, she lowered herself into the water, his touch barely trailing up her back as she descended. Her eyes closed and a sigh of relief escaped her lips, settling into the soothing heat of the water.

Legolas cleared his throat awkwardly. “I will just be in the other room. Call out if you need me.”

She simply hummed in response.

The Prince swiftly left the bathing room, making his way to the door leading to the hallway. Peering out, he caught sight of a maid. He called out to her and motioned for her to approach.

“Yes, my lord?” she inquired politely.

“I need you to fetch a new set of bedding and obtain the following herbs: valerian, boswellia, and athelas,” he instructed.

She nodded in understanding.

“And please, keep it discreet. I have an injured warrior in here who wishes for the injury to remain quiet.”

The maid nodded once more before hurrying off to fulfill his requests.

Legolas returned to the room, feeling the cool breeze from the open window once more. With determined strides, he crossed the space and closed it firmly, halting the chill from entering any longer. He then took to light some of the candles, casting a warm glow within the room before moving to the empty fireplace. He quickly grabbed kindling and wood from the basket beside the silent hearth, setting to task. Before long, the flames crackled loudly among the stone, radiating a comforting warmth that dispelled the lingering chill.

It was then when the maid entered, a large basket brimming with fluffy fabric in her arms. Placing it beside the bed, she then retrieved a pouch from the top. Approaching the Prince, she bowed her head. “The herbs you asked for, my lord.”

“Thank you,” he replied, accepting them graciously.

The maid took to changing the sheets, making no mention of the blood. Legolas cleared a space upon the table in (Y/N)’s room. Placing a cast iron pot—one of which was kept in each room—over the now vibrant flames, he filled it with water from a pitcher. As the water began to boil, he used a small bowl to grind the fresh herbs into a paste with a pestle. Once sufficiently smashed, he ladled some of the boiling water over it and allowed the mixture of herbs to steep, filling the air with its earthy aroma.

The maid, having finished her task of making the bed and straightening up, bid an awkward farewell to the Prince before exiting the room.

Legolas sighed, taking a seat in the chair beside the table, his ears attuned to any sounds from (Y/N)'s direction—just in case.

Nearly 45 minutes passed before she emerged from the bathroom. She was clothed in soft trousers and a loose top that hung off her shoulder, her hand pressed lightly against her abdomen.

“How do you feel?” he inquired, breaking the quietness of the night.

She turned her head towards him. “You are still here?” Her gaze swept across the room, trailing off as she took in the sight of the lit candles, crackling fire, and fresh bedding.

Abandoning the chair, he approached her and gently put his hand upon her bicep. “How is the pain, (Y/N)?”

As if suddenly drawn from her thoughts, she registered that he was indeed beside her. “I, uh, it has lessened a bit.”

He nodded, guiding her to the bed. Pulling back the clean sheets, he motioned for her to get in. Surprisingly, she complied, settling into the comfort of the fresh lavender scent emanating from the blankets and pillows.

Legolas briefly left her side before returning with a cup of tea, mixed from the healing herbs. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he lifted the cup to her lips, encouraging her to take a sip. “Drink this. It will help.”

The steam kissed her face as she took the cup from him. As she drank, the warm liquid flowed down her throat and into her stomach, providing instant comfort. When she finished, she passed the cup back to him. “How do you know how to make such a tonic?”

The Prince placed the cup upon the side table. “My father used to care for my mother during her bloodmoon cycle, before she passed from this world. She too had excruciating pain. He taught me the right herbs to mix, the benefits of heat, and—” he paused, his hand moving to her lower back, where he began to massage lightly. “—what points to press to alleviate pain.”

She exhaled slowly, letting her eyes flutter closed.

“He had said, ‘One day, you will have a wife who too suffers such pain. This you must learn for her.’ And I listened.”

(Y/N) did not open her eyes. “I am not your wife.”

Before he could stop himself, his lips betrayed his secrets. “You could be.”

At this, she opened one eye, as if she was trying to subtly evaluate what his words meant based on his body language. Sensing the sincerity upon his expression, her other eye opened too. She put her full attention on him. “What?”

His cheeks flushed, the tips of his elvish ears reddening, though the warm glow of the fire hid his embarrassment. He turned his head away. “Forgive me, (Y/N). I—I didn't mean to be so…so forward.” He hesitated, then looked back at her, seeing her flabbergasted expression. “I–I suppose there is no hiding it now. The reason I keep such close watch over you is because my heart won't let me do otherwise. I fear, well, I fear that you are not just a shadow following my path.” He exhaled softly. “(Y/N), you haunt me in the most beautiful way.”

She shifted from the pillows, drawing closer until her face was mere inches from Legolas’. “You–you care for me?” she whispered.

His hand tenderly cupped her cheek, his thumb moving in a soft motion. “More than I could ever put into words.”

“Legolas,” she whispered. “Your father did not assign me to your sector. I was supposed to be appointed to protect him. I—I requested to be assigned to you.”

The Prince’s gaze met hers. “Why, (Y/N)?”

“Because you too have been haunting me.”

Legolas wasted no time. He pressed his lips to (Y/N)’s in a gentle kiss and she responded eagerly. She tasted of herbal tea and hope, while he tasted of honey and peace. His hands gently cradled her face, while hers found their way to the back of his neck, fingers entwining in his hair. The scent of fresh lavender surrounded her, mingling with the aroma of pine that clung to him. In their embrace, their minds intertwined, both haunted by the other's presence—in the most beautiful way.

Slowly, they parted. Legolas pressed a kiss to (Y/N)'s forehead before speaking softly. "Lay down. Rest. I will watch over you."

She looked up at him. “Won't you lay with me? I am cold.”

He snorted, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips like the stem of a flower being plucked from a spring meadow. “You only want me to alleviate your pain, don't you?”

She grinned back at him. “Perhaps, Princeling. Though, I did not lie, I am cold.”

With a playful roll of his eyes, Legolas kicked off his boots and drew back the covers. He allowed his body to melt against (Y/N)’s, providing warmth as he gently began to massage away her tension.

A content sigh escaped the woman’s lips as she snuggled further into him, eagerly stealing his warmth and accepting the pain relief he offered.

“Princeling,” she murmured, “You better not breathe a word of this either.”

He chuckled lightly, “I will not say a thing, Shadowfoot. I swear it.”

…

Everything Tag: @lea----b @aredhel-of-gondolin @princecami @the-fandoms-georgie @jazziwritestolkienprimary @swimming-in-stardust @elvish-sky @red-riding @hey-its-nonny @mirclealignr @laneynoir @straysugzhpe @runningfeather @finallyforgotten @kaiawrites @commanderawkward @xxbluestrifexx @slytherinambitious @desert-fern @skairipakomtrikru @genderfluid-anime-goth @sotwk @sirenofavalon @hobbitsesoftheshire @asianbutnotjapanese @mgchaser @heavenshumour @heavenshumour @clairealeehelsing @starenemy @ceruleanrainblues @casuallyeating-blog @cheari @aheadfullofsteverogers @imthebadguyyy @beehivehappy @queenmariex @newjsns01 @dontfearrr @annoyingstrawberryballoon @caffinated-and-sleepy @california-beach-babe-kay @fxckinggxd

Everything But Spice Tag: @goldfearless @Brethil13 @insert-random-blog @cauliflowertree @heranintomyknife23times @mxmia @unethicallypleistocene @amessofmultifandom @caffinated-and-sleepy

Legolas Tag: in the comments

#vayawrites #lotr #lord of the rings #the hobbit #legolas #Legolas fic #Legolas fanfic #Legolas fanfiction #Legolas x reader #legolas/reader #legolas x y/n #legolas greenleaf #legolas drabble #Legolas imagine #legolas fics

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chouxpastries · 6 months ago

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(law x afab!reader, 18+)

warnings: smut, period sex, clit stimulation. no penetration!

You’re curled up into a fetal position under the blankets, hot water bottle held to your abdomen. Law had given you painkillers before bed but you continued to twist in discomfort, pain clawing at your insides.

His arm slides around you in the dark, pressed against the water bottle to help ease the pain at your stomach.

“Shh…” he mumbles, trying to comfort you.

“It hurts really bad…” you whimper, struggling to stay in one position because of the pain.

He hums in sympathy, hand moving to rub over your abdomen instead.

His presence was helping a little, repetitive movements soothing, but the pain you experienced each month was always intense.

You whined and he curled a little closer, petting you.

“I could try that other thing you like, if it’s not too much…?” He whispers.

Your brows furrow in confusion, head cloudy from the pain. “Mm?”

“Down here,” he says, hand sliding lower.

“Oh…” you reply, wriggling a little. You think for a moment, desperate for any help. “Y-yeah, okay…”

He kisses against your head, hand slipping past the waistband of your pajama pants. Your stomach twists a little despite the pain.

The pads of his fingers slide down to your clit, slipping lower into the blood there for lubrication. Your face warms, trying to remind yourself of what Law told you the first time he’d helped you this way; he’d seen and spilled far too much blood to be disgusted by a little menstrual fluid.

His fingers rub slow circles around your clit, the sensation immediately taking full attention against the pain. Your breath comes out in a gasp, hand coming down to rest against his arm.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he says, kissing you again. His fingers keep a steady pace, full focus on you.

You nod a little, holding onto his forearm.

You sigh as you close your eyes, focusing on the sensation of his touch, the dull ache inside you making way for something more pleasurable.

He knows the exact pace to wind you up and soon you can’t help letting out small gasps, squirming against him.

“Feel good?” He asks, and you nod again, face hot.

“That’s it,” he whispers, voice low as he praises you. You twitch against him, heat inside you growing.

“M-more,” you mumble, and he immediately begins to circle faster. His fingers dip down again quickly, drawing up the slick and blood that have combined between your folds, the glide helping his movements.

You moan as he speeds up, fingers firm on your clit as your hips buck against his hand.

He keeps a steady pace as the coil inside you tightens, body struggling to stay still as he works you close to orgasm.

His lips kiss the back of your head as he works, and you turn against him so he can reach your cheek too.

His other arm slides under you, pulling you tight against his chest. His hand presses down on the hot water bottle at your abdomen, increasing the pressure there while his other hand works you apart.

You moan, hips bucking, the heat on your lower stomach bringing you close to the edge.

“L-Law…” you whimper, pressed tight in his hold.

“Shh,” he mumbles, kissing whatever part of you he can reach.

“M-m’ close…” you cry, legs kicking while the rest of him’s pinned close to you.

His left hand presses firmer against your abdomen while his fingers work quickly, eager to bring you to climax.

“Mmm,” you moan, coil tightening. “Law… oh…” Your hips buck against him, pain forgotten as you writhe. You hear him whisper lowly for you to cum and you gasp, hips jutting forward as your orgasm hits you, heart racing as you shake in his hold.

“There you go…” he murmurs, fingers lifting as you ride out your orgasm, not wanting to overstimulate you. You buck in his hold as you whine.

“One more?” He whispers as you settle, knowing you’re usually eager for multiple. You nod, panting, face red.

He brings his fingers down again, slower this time, and easily brings you to a second orgasm. The crest is slow, less intense but still pleasurable as you arch against him.

He holds you still as you pant, aftershocks making you twitch. He slides out his hand, careful not to smear blood on you as he pulls it away. His other hand slips free and he reaches over for a tissue, rubbing the worst of it away.

His hand moves back to your side, kissing your neck. You turn, lying on your back, and his palm moves to your abdomen, soothing over the skin there.

“Better?” He asks, and you hum.

“Mhm,” you nod, eyelids suddenly heavy.

“Good,” he replies, rubbing your stomach a little before kissing your face. “C‘mon, don’t fall asleep, we gotta wash you up.”

You groan before sighing, reaching out for his hand to pull you up.

You both clean up and slip back into bed, rolling onto your sides again. Law’s hand moves to your abdomen again, petting you slowly.

“Thank you…” you whisper, a little embarrassed.

“You never have to thank me for anything.” He responds immediately, hand tensing slightly, “I wish I could help more,” he admits, quietly.

Your hand moves up to rest on his, thumb rubbing back and forth. “You help tons,” you sigh, exhaustion suddenly hitting you again.

He kisses the back of your neck, your head, your shoulder, and holds you close to him.

#law x reader #law x y/n #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law smut #one piece smut #one piece x reader #chouxwriting

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libingan · 7 months ago

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period sex with ghost???? sign me tf up!!!! it’s been such a long time since i last wrote any fanfiction, so forgive me if it’s dogshit im just rusty

a loud groan escapes you as you doubled over, another wave of pain rolling through your lower abdomen. pressing a hand against your stomach, you feel the familiar dull ache that had become a monthly companion.

they weren’t that bad earlier in the day, but by the afternoon, that faint discomfort had transformed into sharp, persistent stabs that made it difficult to concentrate on literally anything else.

you’ve tried pain killers, heating pads, every distraction you could think of, but even the slightest of movements exacerbated the cramps, sending jolts of pain through your body.

simon, your loving boyfriend, had been trying his goddamned hardest to help you through this. eventually, after one particularly bad outburst from you — which he won’t hold against you, you were in pain — he opted to stay still, letting you cuddle up against him as you groaned out in pain.

unbeknownst to you, simon had been on his phone, searching up more ways he could ease your suffering. he scrolls through each website, seeing the same results over and over and over again.

that is, until, he sees the words ‘an orgasm can alleviate menstrual cramps’ on his screen. for a moment, simon just… stares at his phone. he’s not against the idea, but considering your earlier outburst, he’s unsure of how he’s going to bring it up.

in the end, he decides with a simple ‘fuck it’ and speaks, “says here orgasms can help relieve your cramps,”

you blink up at him in surprise, knowing the implications behind your lover’s words. “does it?”

“yeah, it does.” he flips the phone over to show you his screen, letting you read the article yourself.

something about endorphins… “feel good” chemicals… natural pain relief…

“…we’ll make a mess.” you say.

“i’ll get a towel.” simon replies.

“don’t you think this is… well, gross? i mean, it’s blood…”

“is that a serious question?” simon asks with an incredulous expression, raising a brow at you.

upon seeing your embarrassed expression, simon lets out a sigh, placing his phone done on the nightstand. “listen, love, if you don’t want to, and you think this is gross, we don’t have to do it. all im saying is that im more than willing to help you out.”

you let out a sigh of your own, biting the inside of your cheek as you mull over simon’s suggestion. your cramps hurt like hell, and if orgasms really do help…

“i’ll try anything once, i guess…” you mumble, and simon wordlessly gets off the bed to grab two towels from the closet.

simon spreads both towels on the bed, on top of each other, beckoning you to lay on it. “took two, just in case one isn’t enough.” he explains, crawling over to you.

“are you sure this is okay with you, si?” you ask, reaching up to gently cup his cheek. simon instinctively leans into the palm of your hand, pressing a kiss to your wrist. “should be askin’ you that, lovie. this okay with you?”

“if it helps get rid of these damn cramps, fuck yes.”

that’s all it takes for simon to lean in, one hand slipping behind your nape to pull you into a deep kiss. his free hand slides downwards, tugging at the hem of your shirt, eager to slip it off. the two of you pull away from each other to make quick work of discarding your clothing and throwing them to the floor… or wherever they end up landing.

simon takes a moment to appreciate your body, eyes raking up and down, the tip of his tongue darting out to lick his lips. he gently grabs onto your thighs, pulling them apart to leave more space for him to settle in between. “gonna take these off, okay?” he says, hands moving to toy with the waistband of your panties.

“okay, okay, take them off,” you mutter, legs instinctively shutting the moment you’re left bare. simon clicks his tongue at that, pushing your thighs apart once more. “you hidin’ this pretty pussy from me?”

he gazes down at your cunt, feeling a rush of heat flow through his veins and straight to his cock. simon lets out a low groan, parting your lips apart to expose your sensitive bud.

simon wastes no time and dives right into it, licking a flat stripe on your clit, flicking his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves. he revels in the way your legs twitch, the breathy whines that leave your lips.

“simon… simon, oh…” you moan, hands tangling in his blonde hair, holding his head down. this only encourages simon, wrapping his lips around your clit, lightly sucking on it.

he keeps his eyes focused on you the entire time, watching the way your chest heaves and how your back arches into a perfect bow. the sight of you completely lost in the pleasure has his cock throbbing and he can’t resist grinding against the sheets with a few grunts.

simon knows you’re close with the way your legs start clamping down his head and how your hands tighten around his hair. he places a quick kiss to your clit before pulling away, eyes gleaming with his desire and need for you.

a needy, high-pitched whine escapes your lips, but simon softly shushes you, promising a world of pleasure if you behaved. “be patient, love, gonna give you what you want in a bit.”

he reaches out to the nightstand, opening a drawer to take out a condom. simon quickly rips the wrapper with his teeth, hastily rolling the rubber around his cock.

with a careful hand, he brings his hand down to grab the string of your tampon, slowly pulling it out of you.

“jesus…” you muttered, face scrunched up in disgust as simon grabs a few pulls of tissue paper, wrapping it around the tampon and tossing it somewhere he can’t really be bothered to care about.

“simon! if that stains our carpet, i swear to god…”

“i’ll clean it up later, damn it…” simon grumbles, one hand grasping his cock as he positions himself against your entrance. “you ready?”

you sigh, wrapping your legs around simon’s waist. he takes that as a sign to keep going, slowly pushing his dick into you.

“jesus, fuck…” he curses, hissing as your warm walls envelop his cock so deliciously. “so fuckin’ tight…” simon murmurs, leaning towards you, lips finding their way to your neck.

once he bottoms out, simon takes a moment to enjoy the feel of you around him. “feels so good ‘round me, love,” he whispers, nibbling gently on the sensitive skin on your neck.

“move, si,” you nudged him, and simon wordlessly obeys.

he starts off with slow, shallow thrusts, letting you get used to his size before gradually picking up the pace.

simon glances down, admiring the red ring around the base of his dick, the blood staining your labia and a bit on the inside of your thighs. a low groan escapes him at the sight, hands holding onto your hips as he readjusts himself, fucking deeper into your cunt.

“makin’ a bloody mess on my cock, love… literally…” he teasingly whispers. you had half the mind to smack him for making such a joke, but with the way his cock fills up your pussy so snugly, you can’t find it in yourself to do so.

“s-si! feels—feels s’good!” you mewled, head thrown back in pleasure, your hands twisting around the sheets below. sex with simon is always good, but right now? you feel like a virgin being touched for the very first time.

simon reaches down to draw circles on your clit with his thumb, groaning as your gummy walls clench down on his cock. “y-yeah? you gonna come for me, love?”

“yes, yes, yes, please-!” you moan out, eyes squeezed shut. the additional stimulation on your already sensitive nub brings you closer to edge, and you’re damn sure simon can tell, especially with how your sounds seemed to have increased in volume.

“come, let go for me,” simon pants, his own orgasm fast approaching. “come on, love, come on,” he coos, his hips stuttering as he circles his thumb faster.

that’s all it takes for you to tip over the edge, eyes rolling into the back of your head, mouth hanging open as a loud moan erupts from your throat. your walls clamp down so tightly on simon’s cock, drawing his release out of him.

simon gently takes his hand away from your clit before laying on top of you, crushing you with his weight.

“how do you feel? still cramping?” he asks, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“no,” you reply, lifting a hand to gently scratch simon’s back, “thank you,”

no words are exchanged after that. just you and simon basking in the afterglow. that is, until, you remember the fact that you’re still on your period.

“you’re cleaning everything up, simon. this was your idea.”

simon pulls away, exhaling a heavy sigh. “yes, ma’am,”

#call of duty x reader #cod mw2 x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x reader smut #ghost x reader #ghost x reader smut #simon riley #ghost #call of duty #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod mw ghost

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letters-to-lgbt-kids · 1 year ago

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My dear lgbt+ kids,

This is another "menstruation education" letter - let's talk myths and facts about swimming while on your period!

Myth: You will leave behind a bloody trail in the water.

Fact: The water pressure temporarily decreases your flow. While it doesn’t stop completely, it usually slows down enough for it to not make any mess in the water! Even if something overrides this (such as a big sudden movement like sneezing or laughing), the small amount of blood that may get into the water will dilute quickly in open water (like in a lake) or will be neutralized by the chemical treatment of the pool water.

Myth: Being in the water while on your period will cause infections.

Fact: It’s generally a good idea to change out of your wet bathing suit quickly after swimming (as the wet fabric can be irritating to your vulva and potentially cause PH changes that may increase your risk for yeast infections). But apart from that, there are no changes in your body that make it more susceptible to infection or injury while on your period!

Myth: If you swim in open water while on your period, you will get eaten by sharks.

Fact: According to the International Shark Attack File, there are no recorded cases of sharks attacking someone on their period. It is true that sharks can smell blood – but they can also smell urine and other bodily fluids. Despite this, shark attacks on humans are super rare.

Myth: Swimming will make your cramps worse.

Fact: If you feel up to it, gentle exercise can actually help with cramps! During exercise, your body releases endorphins that act as natural painkillers. (With that being said, you know your body best! If you don't feel up to it, it's okay to not exercise while on your period)

Myth: You can't swim on your period unless you use tampons

Fact: Tampons (or menstrual cups) are a great choice for swimming, but there are plenty of people who can't/don't want to wear them and usually wear pads instead. Pads aren't recommended for swimming (as they would absorb water and become very uncomfortable and possibily irritating). Luckily, there is an alternative: period swimwear. Those are special swimsuits made with extra protection to absorb menstrual blood - similiar to period underwear!

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

#lgbt #lgbt+

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pleaseeeimjustagirl · 8 months ago

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Improving Your Relationship With Food And Movement

Hey babesss I have improved my relationship with food and exercise these past few months. It was hard because I had to break down a lot of negative feelings and thoughts I had built around certain foods. I started yo-yo dieting and restrictive eating when I was 10 years old and it has had a lot of negative effects on my body not just physically, and mentally, but socially as well. These tips have changed my life and I hope they help you as well<3333

Signs you have a negative relationship with food.

♡ You think of food all the time. You think about what you're going to eat next and overthink your meals, and the calorie counts.

♡ Feeling guilt over your food choices. Whenever you eat something that might not fit into your “diet” you feel guilty and say negative things about yourself or “punish” yourself by excessive exercise or extreme restrictive eating.

♡ You must earn your meals. This ties into the previous sign, you feel like you have to earn your meals through exercise and restrictions.

♡ You binge eat. Binge eating is having a large amount of food in a short period, accompanied by feelings of loss of control.

♡ You ignore hunger cues. You feel the urge to eat but don't allow yourself to because of a certain diet or restrictive eating.

♡ You can’t keep your favorite foods in the house. You can’t control yourself around your favorite foods due to going a long time without them because of restrictions.

♡ You emotionally eat. Using food to comfort you is okay sometimes BUT it becomes a problem when you turn to food constantly whenever something bad happens and causes negative emotions.

♡ It is stressful going out to eat. You can’t enjoy yourself at restaurants or turn down invites to restaurants or events because you are overwhelmed by the idea of food and calories.

♡ You’re stuck in a diet culture mentality. It is okay to want to lose or gain weight and get into a healthier body but you can do this without restrictive eating.

♡ Your body dictates your food intake. If you are bloated you eat little or skip a meal altogether.

Signs you have a negative relationship with exercise.

♡ You use exercise as a punishment. Whenever you overeat or feel like you have you make yourself exercise for long periods.

♡ You feel guilty when you miss a workout. As women sometimes we can’t work out the way we want to because of our menstrual cycle and you need a break and it is okay to take a break.

♡ You exercise even if you're injured. Rest days are okay working out through injuries only makes injuries worse.

♡ You do workouts you don't like. You're focused on burning calories and not the enjoyment you feel when working out.

♡ Affecting your social life. You might excessively work out to the point you're missing events and invites to work out.

Tips to improve your relationship with food.

♡ Learn about nutrition. A lot of us are uneducated on nutrition and how we should be eating to prevent excessive weight gain and malnutrition I will recommend a lot of books below to start your education on nutrition.

♡ Practice mindful eating. Slow down and become aware of what is happening to your body when you eat certain foods, and your hunger cues, and don’t make any judgments. Eat foods without distractions such as TV, books, and phones. Take your time to chew and taste your foods. Mindless eating is eating without control or out of boredom.

♡ Stop labeling foods. We tend to use the words “good” and “bad” when talking about foods. However, labeling foods can harm your relationship with foods. Welcome all food groups into your diet. Making food decisions shouldn't make you feel like a bad person or a good person.

♡ Find enjoyment in food. Focus on enjoying food and the pleasures that come with preparing and enjoying food with others.

♡ Allow yourself to eat the foods you enjoy. It is okay to eat foods you enjoy in moderation,

♡ Challenge negative self-talk. The way we speak to ourselves regarding food and diet can affect the way we view foods challenge those thoughts with positive thoughts when they come I recommend reading this blog post about your mental diet by @arielsreality

Tips to improve your relationship with exercise.

♡ Create your own vision of fitness. Everyone has different body goals and what they want to look like the media pushes an image not all of us want to fit into. So create a vision for what you want to look like.

♡ Try different forms of exercise. Try different types of exercise. If you don't like cardio, try weight lifting. If you don't like weightlifting, try pilates. There are many options to choose from, so give them a try. Do what feels right and brings you joy.

♡ Listen to your body. If your body is sore, skip a day and walk instead of lifting weights. Listening to our bodies is super important ignoring pain cues is very harmful.

♡ Embrace rest. Sleep is our best friend getting the right amount of sleep every night is what helps our glow-up journey over all. Taking rest days is super important as well.

♡ Understand your body changes. Your body at 12 is not your body now and that is a beautiful thing. We especially as women go through a lot of bodily changes so we have to let go of society's expectations of how our bodies should be and look like what do you want your body to look like? And how can you get there?

♡ Follow women who look like you. Follow women with similar body types like yours. I have a Pinterest of women who have similar body types to mine labeled “Your body is beautiful” I look at it if I need reminders when feeling insecure. I follow a lot of black women on many platforms as a black woman because I like to see women who look like me in positions of success and wealth it motivates me.

♡ Celebrate non-scale victories. Maybe instead of being stuck on the number on the scale, you tried those jeans that couldn’t fit before but now they are so comfortable. That is something to celebrate!

Book Recommendations

♡ The Binge Code by Alison C Kerr

♡ Women Food And Hormones by Sara Gottfried

♡ The Food Therapist by Shira Lenchewski MS RD

♡ The Good Gut by Justin Sonnenburg

♡ Feed Yourself by Leslie Schilling

♡ Reclaiming Body Trust by Hilary Kinavey MS LPC

♡ The Food Mood Connection by Dr Uma Naidoo

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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 21 days ago

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SKZ DRABBLE-OT8

The one where maybe a period doesn't actually have to be the end of the sentence. or The Twenty Eighth Installment of the SKZ!Pack Prequel Series.

Tags: Skz, Stray Kids, Stay, SKZ!pack, ABO, Omegaverse, Skz!Pack prequel, Pack!prequel, ot8, skz x you, skz x reader, femreader, ot8 x you, ot8 x reader, bang chan, lee minho, seo changbin, han jisung, kim seungmin, yang jeongin, lee felix, hwang hyunjin, y/n, skz imagines, skz reactions, skz scenarios, skz abo, skz fluff, skz angst, skz smut

Genre: Angst, LOTS of Fluff, Suggestive, Light Smut

Warnings: Blood, Periods, Periods, Periods. If you don't like talk of menses, this one probably isn't for you. Period Sex, Blood Play, Blood as Lube, Mentions of Abortion, Unhealthy views of menstrual cycles

Title: End of a Sentence

“You look like shit.”

You barely raise your head from where it rests on your forearms at Hwasa’s observation, hearing the rustle as she slides into the seat beside you at the back of the lecture hall.

“Yeah, well-” You mutter out, turning your head slightly so you can narrow her in your field of vision, the movement making your headache pound behind one of your eyes. “-I feel like shit.”

She leans on her elbows on the desk, lowering herself so she can scan her gaze over your face, her dark hair falling over the shoulder of the fluffy faux coat she currently wears.

A wave of lavender washes over you at the movement.

“What’s going on with you? Pre-rut?” She asks in a lower voice, her dark eyes flicking between your own, full lips pulled into a hint of a worried line.

You shake your head. “Worse.” She stares at you for a moment, and then you see something akin to regretful acknowledgement flash across her gaze.

She sighs. “Ah, shit.”

You nod, keeping the movement jilted to stop from worsening your headache. “Yep.” She sits back in her chair, blowing out a breath, the perfect dark eyeliner-reminiscent of cat eyes-framing her lashes wrinkling a little as she narrows her gaze, pursing her lips in thought.

“I mean, you’re in a pack now, does it help at all?” She finally queries, glancing back over to where you still lay slumped over the desk like some sort of victorian plague victim.

You groan, pushing yourself up to a somewhat sitting position, and ignore the protests of your body as you do so, the pull of the sharp cramps tightening around your midsection, making your pubic bone ache.

“I don’t know. I haven’t told them.”

Hwasa’s gaze sharpens on your own, disapproval washing over her pretty features and leaking into her tone when she speaks. “What? But you guys have been together long enough to have this happen several times now, right?”

You give a little shrug. “Well, yeah, but I don’t hang around them during that time of the month. I give excuses, and crawl into my bed and die for a week, and then when it’s over, I drag my ass back to life and no one is none the wiser.”

Hwasa crosses her arms over her chest, sharp, pointed nails ticking across the arms of her coat as she stares at you.

You feel your hackles rise under her gaze. “What?”

She sighs, long and heavy, like you’re a disappointing child, and retorts, “You need to tell them. They could help you through it, like a rut. Trust me, it’ll be better for everyone.”

“It’s gross and personal-” You protest right back, already feeling your cheeks heat at the thought of having to talk to the pack-made up entirely of males-and explain to them why you’re out of commission for a week out of the month. “-they’re not gonna understand.”

She scoffs at that. “Please, you’re all adults, and if they’re not ready to deal with a little bit of period shit, then they have no right to be in your life in the first place.”

“It’s easier said than done-” You whine, putting your forehead in your palms and staring at the chipped surface of the desk. Someone has drawn a crude pen rendition of what looks like a penis just below your notebook.

“(Y/N).” Hwasa says your name sternly, and when you don’t look at her, she leans over and loops her fingers around your wrist, causing you to meet her gaze. She fixes you with a firm look. “They’re in college, I’m sure they’ve had the talk a long time ago and know about female anatomy, okay? It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You groan, but she stops you from tugging your gaze away from hers once more.

“Honey.” She sighs, and her fingers loosen around your wrist a bit, her voice going softer, her expression growing sympathetic. “I know from our time together, and all our years of friendship since, that your ‘time of the month’ if we’re being delicate, is a lot worse than what’s considered normal. So please, just let them in. They might be able to help and it might save you some misery in the long run.”

You make another little groaning sound, but the headache behind your eyes is pounding and the cramping is only getting worse, so in the end, you acquiesce, at least to just stop talking about it for the moment.

“Okay.” You sigh and give her the hint of a tight smile. “I’ll talk to them.”

*****

“They’re getting worse.” You told your mother, standing in front of the bathroom sink, hands braced on the cold tile, staring at your pale reflection in the mirror.

She had put her hand on your mid back, and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “It’s the change. Presenting always affects women differently and more dramatically than men.”

“I don’t want it.” You had cried, already doubled over from the cramps, tears streaming down your cheeks.

It was unfair, cruel even, and in that moment, you’d wanted to disappear, cease to exist, sink into the floor.

“It’s not a choice.” Your mother whispered, pressing kisses to the top of your head. “Women were chosen to suffer, and it is simply something we must endure. In turn, when you are older, the ability to create life will be yours.”

You’d thought that sounded awful in the moment, but didn’t say anything, and determined to follow in your mother’s footsteps, suffered in silence.

*******

It was awful, you decided, to be cursed with such a fate.

Awful in the fact that you could do nothing but curl in your bed and wait for the pains to subside.

Awful that blood stained your hands and thighs and the floor of the shower when you stood beneath the stream of the water, wanting to be clean for just one single moment, but denied the pleasure, a constant reminder.

Awful that no one knew, no one wanted to know.

Awful in the way that he looked at you, like you were some sort of disgusting creature, base and dirty and unworthy.

Awful, awful, awful.

It was raining, drops pelting the window, wind howling, when he came to stand in the doorway of your darkened room, dressed to go out.

Sitting up, you had begged him not to go.

He had simply waved you off, already pulling on his coat. “I don’t have time to sit around with you while you go through whatever this is. Other girls I’ve been with managed to take care of themselves still, get dressed, accompany me, all while this went on.” His lips curved into a sneer as he stared at you, huddled on the bed, bent over from the agony. “At least shower, for god’s sake, put a little effort into yourself for my sake.”

He’d gone out, leaving you alone, and you decided at that moment that it was better to suffer alone, than suffer under the scathing gaze of someone else.

*****

At eighteen, you realized your mother had lied to you.

She’d told you creating life was a gift, a blessing, given to adults.

The positive test sitting in the shaking palm of your hand said otherwise, a blatant lie bathed in stark pink lines.

There wasn’t an option, not now.

It was raining again, when you took the bus to the clinic by yourself.

It was raining when you went home, alone.

Raining when you laid curled up on the bathtub floor.

Raining, raining, raining.

Bleeding, bleeding, bleeding.

Awful, awful, awful.

******

You’re sitting in your bed, curled up against the wall, heating pad held tightly over your midsection, trying to distract yourself with scrolling on your phone, when there’s a knock at the door.

Heaving yourself up, groaning slightly as it jostles your body and worsens the agonizing cramping, you practically double over as you walk to the door, reaching for the handle.

On the other side is Hyunjin, flanked by Felix and Jeongin.

You straighten a little, surprise flickering across your face as you see the omegas standing in the hall of the alpha dorm like they belong here.

“Oh. Hey.” You manage to get out, palm splayed flat on the heating pad to keep it in place as you stand, leaning against the door. “What are you guys doing here?”

Hyunjin gives you the sassiest, most annoyed look you think you’ve seen in awhile.

“Please, like we were gonna sit and let you suffer alone after all you told us in that message?” He sniffs, looking you up and down. “Not very personable by the way, you couldn’t have told us in person?”

You flush slightly, remembering the text you’d sent the pack the night before.

‘This is embarrassing, but I’m on my cycle this week, and you probably won’t see me much. It’s usually pretty bad, but don’t worry, I’ll be good as new next week, and I’ve had plenty of experience dealing with it. Just didn’t wanna make any of you worry with my silence. Plus Hwasa told me I needed to tell you. So there. 😛’

“I didn’t think-” You start to say, and Felix cocks his head, staring at you.

“Didn’t think we’d care? We do.” He says softly, firmly, in a way that makes your bones warm.

“Yeah, noona.” Jeongin nods from behind Hyunjin’s shoulder. “I don’t know much, but I know enough from having girl friends that this time of month sucks on the regular.”

Hyunjin loops his arm through yours. “Now c’mon. We have a bath already drawn up for you in the omega dorms. Let’s go before it gets cold.”

“What, but I-” You begin to protest, but Felix takes your other arm as Jeongin shuts the door to your dorm behind you.

“No buts.” He admonishes gently, giving you the hint of a smile. “You always help us, now let us help you.”

It feels odd, foreign even, but you nod anyway, biting your bottom lip and swallowing the rest of your protest as they walk you over to the omega dorms.

When they lead you into the communal bathroom, the large, sunken tub is already full of steaming water, bath oils shimmering on the surface, bubbles collecting at the edges.

They really weren’t kidding when they said they’d drawn a bath for you.

The room is steamy and warm and smells of citrus and something floral adjacent.

Felix locks the door, and Jeongin moves to grab a couple of towels, as Hyunjin tugs you over to the large tub.

He releases you, putting his hands on his hips, taking you in before he motions with a tilt of his head. “C’mon then, the water's not getting any warmer.”

You hesitate, staring at him for a moment, and then you swallow.

“You guys really don’t have to do this.”

Jeongin glances at you from his seat on the lip of the tub, dangling his fingers in the water, genuine confusion on his face. “Why wouldn’t we?”

“Well, just because-” You hedge out, not really sure how much detail to get into. “It’s kind of gross, and it gets messy-really messy, for me-and the bath is so nice, but you really don’t have to stay-”

Hyunjin’s expression firms as he stares at you as you stutter out excuses. “Please, you don’t think we’re used to messy? C’mon, sweetheart, you’re talking to a room full of omegas here, we’ve got slick and bodily fluids and mess for days.”

You blow out a breath at that. “I know, but-” “But nothing.” Felix says firmly, his hands going down on your shoulders. “A little blood isn’t gonna put any of us off. Right guys?” He glances to the other two omegas and they both nod without hesitation. “See?” Felix murmurs in your ear, his low voice sending a slight shiver down your spine. He moves a small fingered hand to cover your own where you still hold the heat pack to your lower stomach. “You don’t like to see us suffer, right? And you’ve helped us all through heats at this point, so let us help you now, okay?”

Your gaze meets Hyunjin’s and he gives you a pointed stare.

“Just get in the fucking bath.”

Sighing, you finally nod. “Okay. But let me go to the bathroom first.”

You step into the ensuite bathroom and close the door, because suddenly, you feel self conscious. You’ve been naked in front of all of them before-they’re pack, for fuck’s sake-but this feels more intimate, more terrifying.

Words used before ring through your mind as you strip down.

Dirty. Pathetic. Shameful. Disgusting. Weak.

Taking in a breath, you remove the protection you wear and toss it, and almost immediately, blood is slowly starting to ooze down the inside of your thighs, coating your skin with warmth and slickness.

“Fuck.” You swear, glancing down, and decide that as much as you’d like to hide out in the bathroom for a few more moments, you can’t risk it.

Not if you don’t want a puddle on the floor.

Plus, the cramps are resuming with the removal of the heat pack.

So with a sigh of resignation, you leave the bathroom, arms wrapped around you as you step into the warm humidity of the other room where the omegas are waiting.

Trying to keep your legs clamped together so they can’t see the crimson coating your skin, you hurry to the bath and slide into the water. It instantly takes on a pink hue, and you hope they just attribute it to the bath oils they’d clearly added while you were gone.

“Temperature okay?” Felix asks, moving to sit beside Jeongin at the edge of the tub, his gaze assessing your features.

“Yeah, it’s good.” You breathe out, and shift awkwardly beneath the water. Already the heat is helping, but the way they’re all staring at you-

“All right, move over.” Hyunjin commands the younger omegas, as he approaches the bathtub with a rag held in one of his hands. He arches a brow at you as they slide apart, making room for him on the edge of the large tub. “Lemme see.”

You stare at him for a long moment, mouth slightly parted. “No, it’s okay. You really don’t have to-”

He crouches down beside the tub, wetting the rag in the water, his gaze never leaving yours.

“It wasn’t a request, babe. Let me see.”

You don’t think you’ve ever heard Hyunjin sound quite so authoritarian before.

So without another word, you bring your knees up out of the water and spread your legs for him.

The water has washed away the majority of the blood, but there’s still stubborn dried patches from earlier stuck to the warm skin of your upper thighs.

Carefully, slowly, as if he’s scared he’ll spook you, Hyunjin leans forward over the lip of the bath and begins to gently scrub away the bloodstains from off your skin.

You tense under the contact, taking in a sharp breath, but Felix reaches out to put a cool hand on the overheated skin of your shoulder.

“C’mon, noona. You’d do the same for us. Let us take care of you.”

You give a slight shake of your head, and you don’t know if it’s because you’re currently on your period, or if you’re just emotional suddenly, but tears choke your throat a little. “No, it’s not that. It’s just-” Your words cut off as you bite your tongue, because maybe being too honest in this moment isn’t the best thing.

You feel Hyunjin’s gaze flicker up from his work in between your thighs, scanning over your pinched expression.

“Someone gave you shit for it, didn’t they?” He asks softly, and you meet his gaze, your own mirroring the sudden shock his words send crashing over you.

Felix’s fingers tighten a little bit on your shoulder.

Hyunjin scoffs a little laugh-humorless and bitter-and must take your silence as an answer of itself, because he ducks his head to continue washing your skin with the warm water, saying in a murmur, “Yeah, I figured. People like to shit on things they don’t understand. It’s fucked up, but it’s the way it is.”

“That’s just stupid.” Felix announces with a slight edge of defensiveness to his tone. “It’s an anatomical function. Just like something associated with secondary genders-like scents or slick or knotting. You can’t do anything about it.”

“Yeah, but-” You hesitate, then push yourself to continue. “-mine’s always been worse than normal. Way worse than normal. And people just never liked to deal with it.” Your voice dips softer, your breath coming out in a sigh. “It got worse after I presented, so I just kind of holed up every month and dealt with it on my own.”

“You’ve got us now, noona.” Jeongin murmurs back, moving his hand to cover Felix’s where it covers your shoulder.

You glance up and give him the hint of a smile. “I know.” Your smile wavers a bit. “But old habits die hard. And I don’t want you guys to ever think-” Once again, your words stutter to a halt.

“Think what?” Felix pushes softly, as Hyunjin finishes washing your legs, and moves to lean against the lip of the tub, studying you silently, seriously.

You shrug one shoulder. “I don’t know. That I’m gross or pathetic or something like that.”

“Why would we ever think that?” Felix asks again, his voice coming out a little sharp in obvious defense of you.

“Because someone else did.” Hyunjin answers for you, not looking up, playing with the rag held between his hands. He glances up at you. “Right?”

You give a little nod and release a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

“We’re not them.” Felix pushes firmly, his fingers squeezing into your shoulder until you look up at him. “Okay? We could never be like them.” You hold his gaze until a small part of you believes him, and move to squeeze his fingers back.

“Okay.”

********

The door to your dorm opens, and you glance up from your laptop, as soft footsteps head down the hall toward you.

You smell him before you see him-rain.

Chan appears in the doorway, clothed in an oversized hoodie and sweats, hood pulled up over his unruly curls.

He leans against the doorframe as you shut your laptop, shifting it to the side of your bed as you meet his gaze.

“Hey.” You say softly as way of greeting.

“Hi.” He returns, reaching up to push his hood back with his free hand, the other dangling by his side, a plastic bag clenched between his fingers. “Yeosang said you didn’t feel well enough to go running this morning.”

“Yeah.” You sigh, glancing down at the pile of blankets on your lap, the heating pad warming your lower stomach buried below the layers. “Wasn’t up to it.”

Chan pads over to the bed and sits down on the edge, careful not to jostle you as he does so.

You flick your gaze to his, and you can tell, by the furrow between his brows and the slight souring of petrichor that he’s worried.

He holds aloft the bag in his hand.

“I brought you some things.”

Your lips curve slightly at the unexpected gesture. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did.” He counters back, sliding the bag across the bed so it rests in your lap.

You bite back a smile and glance down, undoing the knot of the bag to reveal the contents.

On top is his overly large Nirvana hoodie, the fabric warm and soft between your fingers.

“Your hoodie?” You look up at him in slight surprise, and the tips of his ears go red as he tries to play it off with a shrug.

Adorable.

“Yeah, I thought it might help.”

You arch a brow, but pull out the hoodie and slip it on over your head without another word.

You swear Chan makes a sort of muted purring sound in his chest when you do so.

You dig into the bag some more, and pull out a couple of boxes of your favorite treats, some sports drinks, and a couple of DVDs-probably snagged from Jisung’s extensive collection.

“Channie.” You breathe out, glancing up at him once more, and again, the stupid tears are threatening. “You really didn’t have to do all of this.”

He shrugs, reaching for one of the movies, turning it over in his large hands. “C’mon, you really thought I was just gonna sit by and stay away while you’re clearly over here dying? You really don’t know me. Or him.”

You give a little laugh at that, and Chan grins, dimples flashing.

Glancing down at the treasures in your lap, you find yourself murmuring before you can stop the words, “No one’s ever done something like this for me before.”

Chan shifts slightly on the bed, reaching out to put his hand over yours. “Yeah, well, that all ends now, baby. You’re stuck with me.And all of us.”

You glance up at him, and he gives you another grin, reaching up to tousle his fingers through his hair as he spreads the movies out in front of you.

“Now c’mon. Pick a movie. I brought you the cream of the crop.”

You hold up one of the cases toward him, brow arched.

“‘Hard Boiled’?” You announce with slight disbelief, a smirk curving your lips and brow disappearing further into your hairline.

Chan reaches out and snatches the movie from you.

“Okay, so maybe that one’s a miss. I tried.”

You bite back a grin, and settle on one of the chickflicks you’ve seen a thousand times.

But hey, classics are classics for a reason, right?

After Chan fetches your laptop and gets the movie started, settled in the perfect spot on the end of the bed, you pat the spot beside you, scooting slightly so he has a bit more room.

He hesitates. “Are you sure? I don’t wanna hurt you or anything.”

You roll your eyes, reaching out to tug him down beside you with your fingers buried in the fabric of the sleeve of his hoodie.

“I’m not injured, I’m just simply bleeding out slowly and surely.”

“Oh, because that sounds so much better.” Chan retorts back in a grumble, but he doesn’t resist anymore, sliding beneath the layers of blankets with you.

Grinning, you tug the hood of his Nirvana hoodie up over your head and snuggle into him, cheek on his broad, warm chest, arms wrapping around his middle.

He’s like a furnace, and he smells like wet pavement.

He wraps his arms around you in turn, keeping you tight against him, as he reaches to turn off the bedside lamp as the movie begins to play across the small brightly lit screen of your laptop.

His cheek is resting on the top of your head, and the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your own cheek is soothing.

“Okay?” He asks softly, and you nod, cheek brushing the fabric of his own hoodie.

“Yeah.” You murmur back. “More than okay.”

You feel him press a kiss to the top of your head, and suddenly, you don’t feel so bad anymore.

******

You open the door to Minho, who immediately pushes past you without a word, a tower of bentos held in his arms.

“Hello to you too.” You mutter as he marches past you, directly toward your small kitchen.

You follow behind him wordlessly, and he motions to the table with a jerk of his chin as you enter, already spreading the boxes out on the counter top, removing lids like he has some sort of personal vendetta against them.

“Sit.” He commands, and you decide it’s better not to question him, so you do.

Almost within moments, Minho has presented you with a bowl full of steaming ramen with all the garnishes-fish cake, bamboo, mushrooms, bean sprouts-shoving a pair of chopsticks in your hand as he turns back to the counter.

Your mouth falls agape, and your stomach rumbles loudly as the smell of the food reaches your nose.

He returns to the table with a smaller bowl full of hot rice, and one full of kimchi. Last but not least, he positions a slab of perfectly cooked pink beef ribs atop your ramen and slides you one of the sports drinks Chan had brought you from the fridge.

“Eat.” He commands once more, and you stare at him as he sits down across from you after tidying up the now empty bento boxes.

“What-” You start to question, and he simply fixes you with an unblinking gaze, expression unreadable.

“What, you’ve never had ramen before, sweetheart? You’re supposed to put it in your mouth.”

Glancing down at the food before you, you hesitantly take your chopsticks and gather up a mouthful, before blowing on it and popping it into your mouth.

It’s so heavenly, you almost moan.

“Good girl.” Minho praises, seemingly satisfied, as you take another bite, and then another. He sits back in his own chair, watching you, but the food is too delicious for you to feel embarrassed under his sharp, astute gaze.

“Holy shit, Minho.” You manage to get out in between bites. “You made this?”

Minho scoffs lightly. “Don’t sound so surprised. I’m a good cook.” He leans forward slightly, sweeping his gaze over the quickly dwindling food. “I usually make this one with pork belly, but I read something about red meat being better when you’re on your period, so I swapped it for the ribs this time around. It wasn’t too disappointing.”

Your gaze meets his, and your mouth falls open.

“You read something?” You squeak out, and Minho has the decency to look offended, rolling his eyes.

“What? I can read too you know, sweetheart, cooking isn’t just my one speciality. I’m a multi trick pony.”

“No, no.” I shake my head, wiping my mouth and setting down my chopsticks for a moment. “You read up on what to make me while I’m on my period? Why?”

Minho holds your gaze, arching a brow. “To get the recipe right.”

You stare at him for another long moment, and when it’s clear that’s all you’re going to get, you move to resume eating, finishing the ramen in record time.

Minho moves to gather up the now empty bowls, and in a bold move, you reach out and snag his hand with your own.

“Thank you.” You say softly, seriously, and he gives you another long stare, before he pulls away and moves to pack up the dishes.

You’re surprised when he moves to sit back down across from you instead of leaving immediately now that you’ve eaten his food.

You sit in silence for a few moments, and you don’t know what it is about Minho that’s always made you feel safe, unjudged, able to tell him anything, but you find yourself, once again, volunteering to tell him something you’ve never told anyone else before.

The words are already at the tip of your tongue before you can stop them.

“I had an abortion.” You announce into the silence, and if Minho is shocked by you baring this truth out of the blue, he doesn’t show it. Which gives you the courage to go on, fidgeting with your fingers, as you stare down at the chipped surface of the table.

“When I was a teenager. And it made them worse-the periods, I mean. They were bad before, but ever since-” You give a slight shake of your head and let out a breath. “-they’ve been awful.”

“Mm.” Minho makes a sound of acknowledgement beneath his breath from across the table, but that’s it. He doesn’t offer anything more.

So you keep going.

Spilling your guts into the silence.

“I thought, for a long time-” You sniff and take in a breath, a humorless sharp little choked laugh leaving your lips as you continue. “-that maybe I was being punished, you know? Punished for being born a girl, punished for presenting as an alpha, punished for-” Your words trail off a little. “-well, you know. Not keeping it.”

You shrug, tapping your fingers along the table softly.

“I dunno. Maybe I thought that bleeding was a symbol of everything I’d ever done wrong. It was certainly treated as such.”

There is a long moment of silence, your words hanging heavy in the air between you, and then Minho takes a breath, leaning forward across the table.

“You know, sweetheart-” He murmurs, and you glance up at the soft tone of his voice, so unfamiliar when it comes to the alpha sitting across from you. “-I’ve come to learn that everything is simply a coincidence. There’s no higher power punishing people, bullshit happens to people every day and it’s all just a fluke. There’s no rhyme or reason.”

You swallow, and he holds your gaze with his own.

“So believe me, when I tell you, that whatever idiotic moron made you think there’s something wrong with you that needs to be ‘punished’ every goddamn month, is a fucking fool.” Your lips part slightly, but he doesn’t let you speak.

“And if it’s yourself, well then-” He gives you a hint of a smirk, tilting his head slightly as he regards you. “-I’m afraid you’re just gonna have to tell that bitch to shut the fuck up, sweetheart.”

******

You wince slightly, coming in after your shower, hurrying to the dresser to find a pair of underwear to slip on beneath your oversized t-shirt before you can drip all over the floor.

Changbin must take notice of the grimace from his spot on your bed, because he pushes himself up, arching a brow.

“Cramps?”

You nod, still digging through your drawers for underwear, swearing slightly under your breath. “Yeah. They always get worse whenever I stand up and move around.”

You feel his presence behind you, smell a wave of smoke wash over your senses.

“You know what they say.” He murmurs, wrapping a strong arm around your waist, careful not to put too much pressure on your tender midsection. “About helping cramps.”

You scoff a little, glancing over your shoulder at him. “What if that’s just an old wives tale?”

He wiggles his eyebrows at you playfully, smirking a little now. “Is it?”

You skate your gaze away from his, suddenly embarrassed. “I mean. I don’t know.”

There is a brief moment of pause, and then Changbin asks in slight surprise, “What, you’ve never done it before?”

You huff a breath at that, still avoiding his gaze, hands stilling in the depths of your drawer. “I mean-” You hesitate, before admitting, “-it’s gross.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Changbin turns you at that, hands going down firmly on your shoulders, lifting your chin with a finger after another moment of you not looking at him

“I’m gonna drip blood all over the floor if you don’t let me go find something soon.” You protest a little weakly, reluctantly holding his gaze.

“In a minute.” He waves you off, expression going serious as he stares at you. “Listen, I mean, if that’s you talking, and you personally think it’s gross, then by all means, I get it, and that’s well within your right. As Hyunjin would say, ‘Slay, pussy boss bitch queen’ or whatever he usually says to empower females, but-”

You watch the way his brow furrows, dark gaze holding your own, lips pressing into a firm almost angry line. “-If some son of a bitch pussy footing prick masquerading as a man put that idea in your head that it was gross, then we’re gonna have a whole other problem.”

You stare at him for a long moment, mouth opening and closing for a few brief seconds as you try and comprehend what he’s telling you.

“You-” You hedge out, still staring at him in slight disbelief. “-don’t think it’s gross?”

Changbin chuckles, and then it turns into a full blown laugh. “Baby girl. What part of who I am and all you know about me points toward the fact that I would find anything about this gross in the slightest?”

“I don’t know-” You protest back helplessly. “I just thought-” Changbin backs you up until your back hits the wood of the dresser behind you, hands going on either side of your head, and when you take in a sharp breath, meeting his gaze, his irises are almost gleaming completely gold. When he speaks, his tone is low, voice almost predatory. “Well, let me correct you then.” He leans closer to you, breathing in against your temple, taking in your scent.

“Blood is not a turn off for me. Or him. Quite the opposite actually.”

You take in a shaky breath, mind taking a moment to catch up to what he’s telling you.

“So.” He brushes his nose along your hairline, breathing you in still. “I’m going to ask you again. You know what they say helps cramps?”

Your voice is small, barely a whisper. “Yes.” He flicks his gaze down to yours, smirking slightly-teeth flashing dangerously in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. “You wanna try it?”

You swallow hard, and push past every single part of you that’s screaming at you to say otherwise.

“Yes.”

As if that’s all he needs to hear, Changbin sweeps you up with a growl, and deposits you will little to no effort on the center of your bed, flat on your back.

You don’t even have a moment to feel ashamed or embarrassed, or check the situation down below before he’s already crawling between your legs, forcing your thighs apart for him.

“Bin-” You start to protest, panic setting in once more as you feel the telltale stickiness on the inside of your upper thighs, but he silences you with one glance.

“I’m gonna take it easy on you, baby. It tends to get a little more sensitive down here around this time, yeah? We’re gonna make sure you’re comfortable,so don’t worry about that, but I also don’t want to hear one word out of that pretty mouth unless it’s begging me for more, understood?”

He settles himself down on his stomach between your thighs, and you find yourself only able to whisper out, “Yes, sir.”

A sharp flash of white teeth. “Good girl.”

You take in a breath, holding it, and then let it out slowly, trying not to think of anything but the feel of his warm breath on your skin, the tickling of his fingers skating up your bare legs, moving back the hem of the large t-shirt you wear-

He slides a finger inside of you, and you instantly tense up.

“Relax.” He murmurs, and you try to do as he asks, and you know he can feel it, when he gives a slightly approving hum in the back of his throat, almost a growl. “Good girl. There you go.”

“Oh.” You breathe out, as you slowly relax, and he slides a second finger in, moving them carefully, searchingly, looking for that spot inside that makes you feel like you’re floating on air, sparks flashing before your eyes.

He’s right, you are sensitive down there, and everything is overwhelming, but in a good way.

“Bin-” You whine out, squirming slightly now, body already keying up as hot ropes of pleasure start to gather low in your belly.

“Yeah, baby.” He purrs, and when you meet his gaze, his pupils have completely taken over the gold of his irises.

It’s almost enough to send you over right then and there, the way his lips are slightly parted, drinking in the sight of you writhing beneath his touch greedily.

He pulls back, before you can fully succumb to the pleasure though, and you have to bite down hard on your lip to stop from whining at the sudden loss of contact.

He shifts, pulling his hand back from you, and holds up his fingers for you to see, his gaze slowly tracing over the blood dribbling down the digits, staining his skin crimson.

“Beautiful.” He growls, and the way he says the word has a shiver running down your spine.

He raises the fingers to his mouth, and without thinking, you jolt upward, already reaching out for him, old habits kicking in as you blurt out in a sudden panic once more, “Don’t-” He holds your gaze steadily as he slips the fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean, slowly, one by one.

You stare at him, mouth agape, chest heaving, and you hate to say it, but it’s probably one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen-watching him savor the taste of you on his fingers, cleaning them with swipes of his tongue, his dark gaze never wavering from yours.

“‘Don’t’ what?” He growls out, pinning you beneath his swirling golden gaze. “Don’t taste you?”

And without warning, he leans back down between your legs, and drags the warmth of his tongue up your center, flattening it against you as he slowly works his way upward.

Your breath comes out on a sort of choked sound, and you fall back against the bed, muscles trembling.

“Jesus fuck-” You swear breathlessly, and a guttural growl rumbles in his chest at the words leaving your lips.

He surges up, hands going down on either side of your head now, staring down at you, eyes dark and hungry and predatory.

His lips are reddened, stained with blood.

Your blood.

Well, fuck.

He smirks, and you reach up without really thinking to swipe the pad of your thumb across the full swell of his bottom lip, studying the crimson that comes off on your skin when you do so.

A slightly awe filled laugh leaves your lips on your next exhale.

Changbin flashes bloodstained teeth at you in a sharp grin.

A completely dangerous sight you could get used to.

“Want me to keep going?” He murmurs, holding your gaze.

You nod eagerly, already moving to pull him down to you. “Yes please.” And when you kiss him, you taste yourself on his lips in an entirely new way-the way he must-and he’s right.

It’s fucking beautiful.

****

“Feeling better, gorgeous?” Jisung murmurs to you, leaning back against your chest, your arms wrapped around his tiny waist beneath the warmth of the blankets.

“Much.” You breathe back, rubbing your nose against his soft hair.

Seungmin scoffs from his position behind you, his own arm slung along the couch behind your heads.

“Be quiet. The two of you are gonna miss the movie.” Jisung leans his head back and grins up at you, nose wrinkling, as he whispers to you loudly, “Party pooper.”

You laugh, kissing the tip of his nose.

Seungmin sighs behind you, but you feel him stroking his fingers idly through your hair regardless of his show of irritation.

You snuggle down between the betas, the air filled with the spice of ginger and linens, warm and safe beneath the blanket between their bodies, and feel, for the first time in your life, that maybe this week isn’t as awful as you always thought.

Maybe, just maybe, it doesn’t need to be.

Not ever again.

Not with them.

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