#either way i would like for my ribs to not be pain all the time. juuust maybe. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inkskinned · 11 months

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so one of the things that's so horrifying about birth control is that you have to, like, navigate this incredibly personal choice about your body and yet also face the epitome of misogyny. like, someone in the comments will say it wasn't that bad for me, and you'll be utterly silenced. like, everyone treats birth control like something that's super dirty. like, you have no fucking information or control over this thing because certain powerful people find it icky.

first it was the oral contraceptives. you went on those young, mostly for reasons unrelated to birth control - even your dermatologist suggested them to control your acne. the list of side effects was longer than your arm, and you just stared at it, horrified.

it made you so mentally ill, but you just heard that this was adulthood. that, yes, there are of course side effects, what did you expect. one day you looked up yasmin makes me depressed because surely this was far too intense, and you discovered that over 12,000 lawsuits had been successfully filed against the brand. it remains commonly prescribed on the open market. you switched brands a few times before oral contraceptives stopped being in any way effective. your doctor just, like, shrugged and said you could try a different brand again.

and the thing is that you're a feminist. you know from your own experience that birth control can be lifesaving, and that even when used for birth control - it is necessary healthcare. you have seen it save so many people from such bad situations, yourself included. it is critical that any person has access to birth control, and you would never suggest that we just get rid of all of it.

you were a little skeeved out by the implant (heard too many bad stories about it) and figured - okay, iud. it was some of the worst pain you've ever fucking experienced, and you did it with a small number of tylenol in your system (3), like you were getting your bikini line waxed instead of something practically sewn into your body.

and what's wild is that because sometimes it isn't a painful insertion process, it is vanishingly rare to find a doctor that will actually numb the area. while your doctor was talking to you about which brand to choose, you were thinking about the other ways you've been injured in your life. you thought about how you had a suspicious mole frozen off - something so small and easy - and how they'd numbed a huge area. you thought about when you broke your wrist and didn't actually notice, because you'd thought it was a sprain.

your understanding of pain is that how the human body responds to injury doesn't always relate to the actual pain tolerance of the person - it's more about how lucky that person is physically. maybe they broke it in a perfect way. maybe they happened to get hurt in a place without a lot of nerve endings. some people can handle a broken femur but crumble under a sore tooth. there's no true way to predict how "much" something actually hurts.

in no other situation would it be appropriate for doctors to ignore pain. just because someone can break their wrist and not feel it doesn't mean no one should receive pain meds for a broken wrist. it just means that particular person was lucky about it. it should not define treatment.

in the comments of videos about IUDs, literally thousands of people report agony. blinding, nauseating, soul-crushing agony. they say things like i had 2 kids and this was the worst thing i ever experienced or i literally have a tattoo on my ribs and it felt like a tickle. this thing almost killed me or would rather run into traffic than ever feel that again.

so it's either true that every single person who reports severe pain is exaggerating. or it's true that it's far more likely you will experience pain, rather than "just a pinch." and yet - there's nothing fucking been done about it. it kind of feels like a shrug is layered on top of everything - since technically it's elective, isn't it kind of your fault for agreeing to select it? stop being fearmongering. stop being defensive.

you fucking needed yours. you are almost weirdly protective of it. yours was so important for your physical and mental health. it helped you off hormonal birth control and even started helping some of your symptoms. it still fucking hurt for no fucking reason.

once while recovering from surgery, they offered you like 15 days of vicodin. you only took 2 of them. you've been offered oxy for tonsillitis. you turned down opioids while recovering from your wisdom tooth extraction. everything else has the option. you fucking drove yourself home after it, shocked and quietly weeping, feeling like something very bad had just happened. the nurse that held your hand during the experience looked down at you, tears in her eyes, and said - i know. this is cruelty in action.

and it's fucked up because the conversation is never just "hey, so the way we are doing this is fucking barbaric and doctors should be required to offer serious pain meds" - it's usually something around the lines of "well, it didn't kill you, did it?"

you just found out that removing that little bitch will hurt just as bad. a little pinch like how oral contraceptives have "some" serious symptoms. like your life and pain are expendable or not really important. like maybe we are all hysterical about it?

hysteria comes from the latin word for uterus, which is great!

you stand here at a crossroads. like - this thing is so important. did they really have to make it so fucking dangerous. and why is it that if you make a complaint, you're told - i didn't even want you to have this in the first place. we're told be careful what you wish for. we're told that it's our fault for wanting something so illict; we could simply choose not to need medication. that maybe if we don't like the scraps, we should get ready to starve.

we have been saying for so long - "i'm not asking you to remove the option, i'm asking you to reconsider the risk." this entire time we hear: well, this is what you wanted, isn't it?

#where's the word woman in this u might wonder if u suck #good news i am nonbinary and have a uterus so that is something that can happen #im also gender fluid tho which means im immune to certain psychic damage bc if u call me a woman i'll be like <3 okay <3 #writeblr #the tightrope of ''ppl need access to this''#and like also #''what the fuck is going on over there'' is like. so difficult as an activist #i was <3 punctured <3 during mine #and almost bled out on the table :) they didn't have anyone standing by bc it's ''just a little insertion''#so i started crashing and i vaguely remember apologizing for the fuss as i heard my heart rate monitor start going <3 tachycardic <3 #she wasn't even a bad doctor tbh #ps btw the reason i even HAD a heart monitor is that i have a genuine heart condition and they knew GOING IN that there was a chance #i'd crash on the table #like my heart just likes to do fun little tricks and <3 stop working <3 (i do not want to discuss the specifics ty i am okay im ontop of it #and they were like 'oh u will be fine' and then she did do a puncture thru my uterus . pop!#and im sitting there dizzy and feeling my heartrate start to drop bc it feels almost. beautiful. like. the whole ground just #woosh! out from under you. and shit is like grey's anatomy. i'm looking up at her grey eyes #she's old she wears this nice shawl she's like got Cool Lesbian vibes and people are sprinting into the room #from other parts of the clinic unrelated to me. while the monitor is like a little aria singing #and shes like hey youre okay stay awake stay with me something went wrong we have to keep trying #and i remember thinking - i was trying to think of nice things. i have so many beautiful places that now overlap #with this terrible memory #i became dimly aware that there was too much on her wrists and hands. like #that was too many liters #and then when they had finished all this. i packed up and drove myself home #i have had (bad thing) happen to me. and the same feeling happened after #that numb almost lamblike bleating. you cry without noise. like. ur body is so shocked and ur mind so empty #you just stare at the road and everything everything is happening behind glass and static and you are standing so far away from it #while you hold ur hands at 10 and 2. and something in ur brain is SCREAMING at you - IT WAS BAD AND IT SHOULDNT HAVE HAPPENED #and ur just watching the alarms in your body going off and youre thinking. a little pinch! ha. i think i just lost something important.

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myfictionaldreams · 9 months

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You're Mine, Sweetheart // Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie Munson loved many things but above all else, he loved teasing you, especially when it was so easy to do. All day he had been whispering into your ear and giving lingering touches and now, you were ready for him to do whatever he wanted to you.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dom/sub, dirty talk, pet names, teasing (LOTS), begging, sir kink, praise kink, panty kink/panty sniffing, discussion of past sex, restraints, polaroids, Eddie has an obsession with your smell and taste :), cum swallowing, blowjob, fingering, rough sex, pussy slapping, possessive behaviour, overstimulation, biting

Words: 6.6k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

It wasn’t a frequent event where you’d have to sleep by yourself, without your boyfriend wrapped around your body giving you warmth and comfort. Tonight unfortunately was one of those nights where you were tossing and turning, trying to find the same comfort that Eddie gave you, even positioning your pillows so that it may feel like him against your back but to no avail as you watched the hours slowly tick by on your alarm clock.

Eddie had a late-night gig at the hideout and your family had wanted to have a games night with even the extended family coming over so it wasn’t something you could sneak your way out of. By the time your family were in bed and Eddie was packing up his equipment, it would have been too late for him to come and pick you up and both decided like sensible adults to just meet the following day which also happened to be the weekly arcade meet up with all of your friends so that was something else to look forward to.

Now however, as the sun began to welcome the day, you were dreading the idea of having to leave your bed and gain the energy to go to the arcade and hang with friends. Eddie, yes you wanted to see, but your social battery was already low and you’d hardly even started. As slumber was just about to consume your body, you were abruptly disturbed by your mom shouting up the stairs, “Darling, the phone!”.

With a pained grunt, you rolled out of bed, stumbling out of your room and down the stairs, not even bothering to open your eyes as you’d grown up in this house and could walk around it without looking. Knowing your mom had left the phone resting on top of the holder, you reached blindly for it and rested it against your face.

“Hello?”, your voice was croaky and thick with sleep, not that you cared though as you held the phone between your ear and shoulder so that you could rub the sleep out of your eyes.

A deep chuckle welcomed you on the other end of the line and immediately your entire body felt rejuvenated, a smile blooming across your lips. Your eyes opened but only to check your parents were anywhere close by as you began to nervously twist and play with the phone cable. “You sound just as tired as I feel, Sweetheart”, Eddie remarked but you could sense his happiness through his tone.

“Hey you”, your sleepy voice suddenly sounded light and flirtatious, “couldn’t sleep either?”.

Your boyfriend released an exacerbated sigh, followed by a soft known where you knew he’d rested his head back against the wall. “Nope, not a single second, missed you too much”.

His casual declaration for missing you, always so open about his feelings, made your heart thump harder in your chest like it was going to beat so hard your ribs would break. There was just something about knowing that he was as attached to you as you were to him.

“I missed you too. How was the gig?”, You bit your lip as he began to talk, it felt like you’d swallowed hundreds of little butterflies with the tumbling nerves floating in your stomach which always seemed to happen when talking to Eddie, he had you hooked beyond a reasonable doubt.

“It was fucking awesome! I nailed the solo, you know, the one I’ve been practising all week? Even got a well-done head nod from a couple of the locals which I thought was pretty neat”.

Your smile spread to a full grin hearing his passion as you praised him for doing so well, “That’s amazing Eddie! I wish I was there to see it, I’m sorry again that I wasn't, you know I would always come to support you if I could”.

“It’s no worries, Sweetheart, I only would have been distracted by you in the crowd like I always am. Especially when you start jumping up and down in those corroded coffin shirts”. The apples of your cheeks warmed as you glanced over your shoulder to double-check check your parents weren’t within earshot. When you and Eddie had begun to date, he gave you a corroded coffin shirt which was just a cheap white shirt with the name scribbled in a black sharpie so you redesigned it slightly and cut the sleeves and around the neckline so that the tops of your cleavage would be exposed.

When you didn’t respond to Eddie, he continued, the pitch of his voice lowering to the way that he usually used when he was whispering in your ear to get you in a certain mood. “Want to know a secret?”

“Yes”, you reply with an only just audibly heard response as your tongue suddenly feels heavy and thick in your mouth as you wait in anticipation for what he has to tell you.

“Do you remember those Polaroids we took a couple of weeks ago? The ones when we skipped school and hid in my van?”

Your cunt instantaneously pulse in sudden arousal at the reminder of those explicitly scandalous pictures from the time he’d convinced you to both skip school after spending most of the day whispering sweet nothings into your ear and getting you so riled up that you were practically begging him to tie you up in the back of his van and fuck you. So of course, he did just that: he had to take a pretty picture to remind him of the sight of you at his mercy.

“Princess?” Eddie asked when you once again didn’t reply.

“Sorry, yeah I remember those”.

“Good. Because it slipped my mind that I’d hidden a few of them in my guitar case so what a happy surprise for me when right before I went on stage, I found the Polaroid beneath my guitar. The one where your arms and legs are tied together with my cock buried into that pretty pussy of yours”.

You had to bite your lip to hold back the moan threatening to burst from you as you also had to lean against the wall due to your knees trembling as slickness gathered between your legs.

Eddie continued, “I had to go on stage with a fucking hard-on - luckily the guitar covered it but, as I looked out and couldn’t see you, all I could think about last night were your perfect tits, bouncing up and down- god I miss them!” he groaned deeply. “Want to know how bad it got? At the end of the gig I had to run to the bathroom and jerk off before I creamed in my pants like a fucking teenager”.

You were absentmindedly rubbing your thighs together to try and ease the ache and need that had settled through your core, your nipples pebbling beneath your shirt and rubbing against the material.

“And then”, Eddie continued, “oh… well I can always tell you what I did when I got back home when I see you later, how does that sound Princess?”

“Good”, you say breathlessly.

“Good, what?” Eddie encouraged.

“Good sir”, your entire body heated now with embarrassment, quickly remembering where you were so you glanced over your shoulders to check that your parents hadn’t suddenly appeared but thankfully they were still in the kitchen and couldn’t hear.

“That’s my girl”, his voice once again spiked arousal straight between your legs and you were sure that if in person you’d be begging for him to touch you, pleasure you until you couldn’t remember your name. “What time should I pick you up?” Eddie asked, casually snapping you out of your erotic thoughts and changing the subject completely.

Shaking your head to try and clear your mind, you contemplated for a moment, “Um, I could be ready in 30 minutes so whenever you’d like, no rush or anything, I don’t think we’re meeting anyone until midday anyway”.

“I’ll pick you up in 30 minutes”, were his last words before he hung up, no doubt in a rush to come and pick you up which then meant you also had to rush but you were almost giddy with excitement.

Washing was a simple task but staring at your wardrobe felt like an endless journey. Do you wear jeans or a skirt? Do you go casual or dressy? Pink or blue? You were able to give up and lie on the bed when a blue, knee-length dress caught your eye. It was simple, floaty thin material that wasn’t too over the top but pleasant enough to meet out with friends. Especially as it matched your Converse and jacket, you were happy and had enough time to apply a light sprinkling of make-up but not too much as Eddie always preferred you more naturally than all dolled up.

Looking at yourself once last time, you moved downstairs to wait for your boyfriend, having 2 minutes to quickly pick up a slice of toast before the tale tell rattle and bang from his van were heard through the open window. Quickly pecking both of your parents’ cheeks, you ran to the door, not stopping with your swift pace until you were colliding with a solid chest.

“Woah, hey Sweetheart”, Eddie laughed, cradling the back of your head and shoulders as you nuzzled into his plain black shirt, breathing in his scents of the recently smoked cigarette, leather jacket and cheap deodorant but under all of that was the lemon from his shampoo.

“Hey!” You couldn’t help but beam up at him, looking like a love-sick puppy but happy to see that he was giving you the same look as he dipped his lips to steal a kiss from your lips. You checked him over unsubtly, from his ripped baggy black jeans to the loosely done ponytail that already had a few curls escaping.

Your boyfriend was doing the same check as you as his chocolate eyes roamed over your outfit, focusing slightly for a second as he licked his lips and then snapping out of whatever he’d just remembered. Leaning over, you thought he was going to kiss you again but instead, he took a hefty bite out of your slice of toast before asking “Ready?”

Nodding your head, Eddie happily helped you into the van to be his passenger princess before climbing in himself. The two of you drove around for a while as you both caught up with each other's time without the other, no mention of Polaroids or whatever it was that Eddie did after returning home.

Even though it has been less than 24 hours since you saw him last, the conversation seemed to flow endlessly as you sat happily next to him, admiring his dimpled grin and exaggerated expressions with his hands as he told you about Gareth locking himself out of his car.

You laughed and casually leaned your head against his shoulder as he began to drive in the direction of the arcade. Eddie's hand gently landed on your covered thigh, stroking his thumb in comforting circles over the thin material. “Do you remember the last time you wore this dress?” He asks casually before kissing your temple whilst keeping his eyes on the road.

Your face set in concentration as you looked down at the dress, like it could spark a memory for you but it didn’t so you shook your head no, expecting him to say something cute like you wore it for your first date or something; he always had a good memory on these sorts of things.

As you were staring at the road, you weren’t able to see the corner of his lips quip up as he excited himself to tell you. His ringed fingers squeezed slightly against your thigh as he said two simple words: movie night.

A heavy breath rushed from you as it all came flooding back. The last time you’d decided to wear this outfit, Eddie had been so riled up by the pretty clothing, that he’d complimented you almost constantly as you both attended Steve’s for a group movie night. However neither you nor Eddie saw the end of the film as the two of you were locked in the bathroom with Eddie's fingers pumping into your hole.

“Remember now?” He asked noting the way your thighs clenched and eyes unfocused slightly.

“Yes I remember”, you mumbled in response, refusing the meet his eye contact for fear that you’d fall right into those beautiful orbs and lose your mind.

“Good, I want you to think about that today as we’re out and about because I know for damn sure that’s exactly what I’m going to be thinking about”.

“Ok”, you paused for a breath and added, “sir” for good measure, absentmindedly reaching for the hand on your lap to play with his chunky silver rings, twisting them around and around. A little habit you’d developed when you were feeling somewhat submissive and needy, finding the touch of his jewellery comforting as it meant he was close. Eddie smirked down as he also noticed this, loving how easy it was for him to get you all worked up and needy for him, In fact, it was something he craved, especially when you clung to him like a koala, he needed you just as much as you needed him so welcomed the grabbing and touches.

The two of you arrived and somehow managed to be late, even though you’d both been driving around for a while. Everyone was already inside the arcade, hardly even noticing your entrance until Eddie shouted, “The fun has arrived!”. Not only did this bring the attention of all of your friends but also the attention of everyone else so you promptly rushed to your favourite machine.

Eddie of course, followed directly behind you, wanting to stay close even though he was itching to play a different machine. Inserting the money, you began to play, full concentration on the tiny screen in front of you but this was swiftly distracted by the warm solid body standing directly behind you. His comforting smell wrapped around you like a warm hug as he rested his chin on your shoulder, hair stroking against your cheek and hands on your waist beneath your jacket. It was nice to just be in each other's company, friends around, casually chatting as they gamed next to you but once they’d left and you were once again just with each other, you became hyper-aware of his presence and casual kisses against your ticklish neck.

“Don’t get distracted now, Sweetheart”, Eddie teased whilst tightening his hold on your waist, pulling himself even more flush against your back. “Just concentrate on the game, not on me”.

Your silence was enough to know that you were doing exactly the opposite of his request and were tongue-tied and unable to think of a witty response. Especially as he gently blew onto your ear, sending a rush down your spine. “Keep your eyes on the screen, otherwise how will you win?”, Eddie’s voice was low and his chest vibrated against your back. Your eyes snapped back to the screen, not even realising that you’d tried to glance over your shoulder up at him. Eddie had returned to his earlier mindset, intent to thoroughly dampen your underwear and muddle your coherent thoughts with arousal and need, especially as he casually remarked, “I know it’s highly inappropriate but I would really love to take you back to my van and lift this dress right now and see what fun I could have”.

Thankfully Eddie's arms remained locked around your body as your knees wobbled and a weak moan burst from your throat but luck was on your side as the game machines were louder so no one could hear.

Eddie heard though as he laughed in your ear, “The thing is, I know you’d let me because you’re my special Princess, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir”, you say without a care in the world or the fact that you’re in a public space.

“That’s my girl, keep up the good work”, his plump lips smashed into your cheek in a dramatic display of affection and then he was gone, moving away to play his own game, leaving you clutching onto the edges of the machine, trying to not look like you were about to melt into the floor.

Making a split-second decision, you purposefully died on the game and trailed after your boyfriend, finding him shouting at a game that was accepting his change. Eddie didn’t say anything as you slid your arms around his middle and ducked under his arm, he simply kissed your forehead and calmed down enough to play the game around your body.

Another hour came and went and you’d finally deemed it safe enough to venture on your own without feeling too needy to be around Eddie. However, it didn’t last long as he returned over your shoulder.

“Want to know the naughty things that I did when I got home last night?”, he asked referring to the conversation you’d had earlier in the morning.

Your fingers hesitated over the brightly coloured controls so Eddie swiftly braced his arms around you to continue playing on your behalf, holding your fingers onto the controls so you were now both playing. You wanted to know Eddie’s erotic tale of his adventures last night that were sure to drive you crazy but you were unsure of the public setting, knowing that you were already horny for him and any further taunting would drive you crazy. Eddie of course, was going to tell you regardless of whether it was a public space or not and was desperate to see just how crazed he could drive you so he didn’t wait for your response before continuing in short, swift statements.

“I got home, found a pair of your panties that still are hidden in my room… and touched myself whilst sniffing them like a fucking perv.”

You tried to turn and look at him to see if he was being serious or not but his arms tightened, keeping you facing forward.

There was too much to process but also not that much at all. He’s actually pleasured himself whilst sniffing your underwear. Eddie was always very vocal and complimentary of how much he loved your smell and taste and that it drove him crazy but you always assumed that it was all just words in the heat of the moment but clearly it wasn’t as he’d been able to pleasure himself with just your smell alone.

Neither of you said anything about this event, mostly because you were trying to convince your body to calm down and Eddie was silently planning his next way to tease you. Even as the hours passed, and you both mingled with friends, played games and snacked, Eddie would continue to whisper things under his breath to you.

Then there were his hands, brushing over your hands, tickling the skin on your neck, a stark comparison to the heavy touches against your hips, holding and squeezing as he’d casually walk past. Eddie Munson was unequivocally on a mission and you were failing very quickly.

It also seemed that Eddie was falling into his own trap, especially as he briefly glanced up at you from across the room and saw that you were biting your lip whilst looking at him, eyes exploring his body and something inside of him snapped. One minute you were surrounded by the bright colours of the arcade, the musky smell of aged carpet and the varying ages of people. The next moment, you’re greeted with fresh air and only Eddie surrounding you as he drags into the alleyway behind the arcade.

Your body was pushed against the uncomfortable brick wall as Eddie rested his arms on either side of your head, body pressed against your front and face dipped into your neck.

“Tease me some more and I’ll show you my reaction.”

“I…I wasn’t teasing, I mean- I wasn’t doing it on purpose”, you tried to explain with panic evident in your voice, already showing Eddie you were slipping further into your submissive mindset of always trying to make him happy.

“Uh huh”, Eddie continued to taunt, “I can see right through your pretty little lies. If you want to tease me like this, then you wouldn’t mind if I teased you right back, is that what you wanted? To trase me so much that I snap and fuck you in this disgusting alleyway?”

You couldn’t talk, eyes wide and worried and yet also wanting him to do exactly that. Eddie has you exactly where he wants you and almost feels bad for a moment knowing that he had been the one to do all the teasing but that didn’t stop him, especially as he had you so pent up. Lifting his ringed hand, he begins by stroking down your jaw with the tips of his fingers, all the whilst his jean-covered thigh lifts and slots itself between yours until it was flush against your clothed cunt.

You simultaneously whimper and shudder, pressing your hips down on your leg to add more stimulation to where you want to be touched the most.

Eddie’s eyes were dark as he studied you, “Look at you, already a whimpering little mess to my touches. Tell me, Sweetheart, what do you want me to do to you?”

Your brain screamed “everything!” and it seemed your mouth did the same as the next moment Eddie snickered. However, he did the opposite of what you wanted as he pulled his body away from yours and took a step back, not wanting to fuck you in the alleyway. His van was one thing but a dirty street? He’d never treat his princess like that.

Seeing and hearing your disappointment at his warmth moving away, he quickly cupped your cheeks, stroking his thumbs against the apple of your cheeks and pulling you into the most delicate kiss that he could muster. Your whimpers turned into mewls as your body raised onto the tips of your toes to try and be closer and deepen the kiss.

“Want you, Eddie, please can we go?” you asked between kisses.

Eddie contemplated denying you for a moment, knowing that the two of you should probably hang with your friends for a little longer but looking at the need in your pretty eyes and feeling your hands gripping his wrists like you never wanted to let go, he knew it was probably best to head back.

“Alright Sweetheart, don’t worry I’ll look after my needy girl, let’s get you to the van and I’ll tell the others we’re leaving”. He heard you audibly sigh in relief as he grasped your hands, interlocking your fingers together before heading in the direction of the car park however, you only took a few steps before stopping. “What’s wrong?”

You were rubbing your legs together like you needed to pee but it wasn’t this that was the issue. “It’s uncomfortable to walk with wet panties, they’re rubbing on my skin”.

Eddie’s eyes immediately zoned in on the area that you were talking about like he had x-ray vision and could see through your dress. Licking his lips, he suggested, “Well, why don’t you take them off?”

Without even checking if there was anyone at the end of the alleyway, you reached beneath your dress and pulled down your matching shade of blue to the dress underwear, that blissful sigh of relief returning. Eddie to his credit was shocked that you would do something like this within view of anybody walking past and his cock throbbed painfully within his baggy jeans as he saw the sheen of arousal on the material.

Your boyfriend acted on instinct as he quickly grabbed your underwear and rubbed his thumb against the patch of juices, his eyes remaining on you though as he then sucked on his thumb. It was almost pornographic the moan he released, eyes rolling back in his head dramatically. Before you could even squeak or react, Eddie shoved the panties into his leather jacket pocket and grabbed your hand again, moving with more speed towards his van.

Much like this morning, he opened the passenger door for you to climb into, his hands on your waist again to give you a boost up before he shut the door and ran, actually running, into the arcade to say bye to everyone.

Whilst waiting for him, you tried to regain composure, deciding it was much too hot for your jacket and shrugging it off. Eddie returned in record time, slightly out of breath from how fast he’d run in and out of the building as he gave you a cheeky grin, his dimples deepening as he turned on the engine.

“What did you tell them?”, you asked.

“Just that you weren’t feeling very well and I needed to get you home to rest. I think they bought the lie but I also don’t care right now, I just want to be with you”.

You smiled fondly at him, cuddling in close to his side and resting your head on his shoulder as he rested his hand on your thigh in a stronghold which you appreciated, needing it to help ground you to the moment as you played with his rings.

Eddie drove like a madman, even though his body showed that he was at ease, it was clear that he just wanted to be back at his trailer already as he probably broke a couple of laws with how he was driving. The two of you both smiled upon seeing his home and after he parked up, he ran around to your side of the van and helped you down the large step. Thankfully his Uncle Wayne would be at work until the early hours of the morning so you both didn’t need to worry about being interrupted.

Once inside, Eddie let go of his hold on your hips so that he could shrug off his jacket, throwing it onto the couch. “Do you want a beer?” he asked over his shoulder, kicking off his shoes as he walked, something you also did but left them neatly next to the door rather than in a messy pile like Eddies.

“No thank you”, you politely responded, rubbing your arms with the loss of his warmth as your eyes followed his every move. Once more Eddie’s moves were calculated, knowing that you’d quickly follow after him, needing to feel him close, having felt like you’d waited too long to finally be properly alone with him.

Before he could even open the beer, you slid in front of him and pulled his face down to yours, kissing him desperately and breathlessly. The beer clattered onto the kitchen countertop as Eddie laughed against your mouth at how frantic you’d become. He pulled away, glancing down to see that you were trying to rub your body up against his.

“Aw, my princess, are you feeling needy?” he spoke in a patronizing tone which only made you lean in further to prove your point.

“Yes”, you gasp, trying once more to pull his face down to yours but he takes over, taking your wrists in one hand and pushing your body back until you are pressed up against the refrigerator with your hands now held above your head.

“What do you want? Tell me.”.

“I want you, please Sir”.

Eddie clicked his tongue, “Be specific, what do you want from me?”

“Everything I want…everything please, I need you, Eddie”.

The Hellfire leader felt like his chest was going to explode with how hard his heart was beating seeing you like this, he’d expected you to be needy but this desperate? He was ready to walk on flaming coals if you’d asked but he continued his taunting for now, wanting to see if he could get you to say something dirty.

“Aw… Have I turned you into a wet puddle?”

You moan at his words, bucking your hips to show him where you want to be touched. You pulled on your wrists as well, wanting to get out of his hold to play with his hair, kiss his neck, rip his clothes off, just something!

“I think the lack of sleep and horniness has ruined your pretty little submissive head, what do you think?”

You again moan but this time in frustration, face scrunching up as you weren’t getting what you wanted. The hand that wasn’t holding your wrists hovered over your body, moving up the dress until he was grasping your jaw, forcing you to look up into his beautiful puppy eyes that were now hardened and full of dominance. You could feel his chunky rings biting into your skin as his breath kissed the skin of your cheek as he contemplated just what he wanted to do with you first. “I love how responsive you are to me”, Eddie praised, “I mean, look how needy you are after just a few words and touches through the day. You really are mine, aren’t you?”

“Yes, only yours Eddie- Sorry, I meant Sir”, you quickly corrected yourself.

Eddie’s gaze softened slightly as he could see your thoughts racing with the need to please him in every way. “It’s ok, you can say my name, I always like it when you say my name”. Gently he kissed the tip of your nose, giving you a moment of care before asking, “I’ll giv eyou the option. Do you want me to touch you or do you want to touch me?”

“I want to touch you”, you say without a second's hesitation.

Eddies grip released as he held his hands away from you, “Then I’m all yours”.

He expected you to jump into his arms, kissing him or pulling on his hair like you always did when you needed him to be closer but this wasn’t what you did. Instead, you dropped to your knees and clawed at his jeans. Surprising even yourself, you managed to undo his zipper, reach into his checkered boxers and find his cock, hard and waiting for you as you pulled it out of the unzipped hole. Not even bothering to undo his belt as you just wanted to have him in your mouth.

“Shit Princess, Jesus Christ!”, Eddie shouted as your lips wrapped around the tip of his throbbing cock where it was wet with precum and red with how long he’d been hard for. You didn’t want to tease him, you just wanted him to find the ultimate pleasure so you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him deeper.

Your boyfriend tipped his head back, biting his knuckle to hold back the shouts that were sure to be loud enough to disturb the neighbours. Inch after inch of his cock slipped down your tongue and to the back of your throat until you were gagging but you kept him there, not pulling out until you were gasping for air.

“Wait, just wait a second”, Eddie gasped after a couple of minutes. Quickly, he undid his belt and button, moving the material of his jeans and boxers down his hips until his cock and balls were waiting proudly for your mouth.

“Thank you”, you say politely to him, wrapping a hand around the base and moving it out of the way so that you could suck on his balls, pulling each one into your mouth before returning to taking his length. Eddie rested a hand against the back of your head eventually helping your movement by pushing you further down, until you were gagging and burning for air, but the throb of his cock was only adding to the pleasure of it all.

“Let me see those eyes”, he softly demanded, and you hadn’t even realised your eyes had closed whilst in the thought of nothing but his cock. Opening them quickly, you made eye contact and were praised with a loving stroke of the back of his hand against your cheek. “Always so good for me, I fucking love you”, Eddie grunted, his hips snapping and balls tightening at the same time and you knew he was on the verge of cumming. His velvet shaft became harder against your tongue as you sucked him more vigorously “Swallow”, was all he demanded and you did just that as he swore, his pink lips dropping open as he came down your throat. His salty goodness was thick as you swallowed every single drop.

“Fuck Sweetheart, you did so well for me”, Eddie praised a moment later after his cock stopped throbbing and began to soften. Pulling out, strings of saliva connected the tip of his cock to your mouth as he chuckled, wiping it away, “Oh you’re drooling everywhere… Come here.”

Eddie helped you to stand but seeing how unsteady and weak your knees were, he lifted you onto the kitchen countertop, spreading your legs and lifting your dress to expose your drenched cunt to him. In a harsh grip, he grabbed a handful of your hair, holding you steady as he spread your juices around with his middle finger, circling your hole before pushing in.

“Look at you and to think, I’ve only just started using my fingers and you’re already shaking”, he taunted as he pushed his finger in and out slowly, watching your body respond with gasps and twitches. As he added a second finger, he praised, “I love the way you look with my fingers inside of you”.

Your hips bucked at his words as you tried to match his movements, especially as he began to curl his fingers to stroke against your pleasurable spot. However, then you said something that he wasn’t expecting, “Please don’t be gentle with me”.

Eddie didn’t need telling twice as he pulled out and gave your pussy a sharp slap, directly over your neglected clit. He rubbed away with a sting before doing it again and again, watching as you cried out and tried to lean into the touch and only did he stop when your pussy was drenched, puffy and your clit was overstimulated. “Did you like that Princess? Do you like it when I’m rough with you?”

“Yes, thank you sir!”, you shouted, whilst also leaning into the hand still holding your hair.

“So desperate today, aren’t you Sweetheart. Come on let's get this off of you”, as he spoke, he released his hold but only to grip the dress and lift it up and over your head. Next, he helped you down from sitting on the side but only so that he could turn you around and bend you over it instead as he also undid your bra and discarded that to the floor. The dress you’d worn was mde of a stretchy, flimsy material so he was easily able to use it to tie it around your wrists, getting the restrained behind your back.

“Let’s go”, he instructs, holding onto the material and using it to move you around, manhandling you to walk from the kitchen and into his bedroom, helping you to be face first on his mattress, careful to not hurt your neck as your arms were still restrained and arse perked into the air for him.

Eddie began to remove his clothes as you wiggled your hips invitingly and your boyfriend admired the perfect view in front of him before kneeling between your legs, hands massaging the flesh of your hips.

“Say you’re mine”, he demanded in a low, rough voice.

“I’m yours”.

“Tell me again”, he asked as he looked from your face to your cunt.

“I’m yours, Eddie”.

Hearing his name again, he couldn’t wait any longer as he carefully pushed the tip of his now hard cock into your hole. You were already so sensitive, even though you hadn’t cum yet, with all of the arousal pulsing through you, it felt like you’d already orgasmed a handful of times and with Eddie’s recent orgasm, he was just as sensitive. He moved slowly, even though you wanted it rough, he didn’t want to actually hurt you, knowing exactly what your limis were so he made sure to give you time to stretch and get used to his size.

However, once your moans were echoing around the room and you were trying to push yourself back on his cock, he released the restraint that he was holding onto. With his hands holding onto your hips, Eddie began to fuck you relentlessly, the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix, his bals smacking into your clit and hips pushing your face into the bed.

Eventually your knees lose any strength that was holding your body up and you collapsed forward onto the bed. Eddie didn’t stop though, especially when he could hear how good you were feeling so he moved one of your legs up, giving him more room and he body crowded over your back as he bites your shoulder.

“Wanna cum Eddie, your words were muffled against the bed but he could already feel how close you were from how tight your pussy was clenching.

“You can cum for me, you’re doing so well”, he praised, licking over the spot he’d just bitten.

However, you groaned in frustration rather than pleasure as you moaned, “But I wanna cum with you Eddie, please cum in my pussy”.

“Oh Princess, all you had to do was ask”.

Eddie fucked you harder, his mouth sloppily kissing your cheek as you tried to hold back your orgasm for as long as possible but it was getting too much, everything was too overwhelming and eventually you couldn’t keep it back anymore.

You came hard and with a high-pitched scream, your pussy clenching so tightly around Eddie that he too found his release, orgasming together, both sensitive and bodies rocking together through the pulses of pleasure.

He stayed inside of you for a moment, trying to catch his breath and it was only when he could feel your restrained fingers wiggling against his abdomen did he push his weight up on his arms to kiss delicately across your bare shoulder. “That tickles”, he mumbled, causing you to giggle tiredly.

Carefully, he knelt back, undoing your bound wrists and massaging the areas to get them to relax at your side. “I'm going to pull out, ok?”

You nod but still hiss at the discomfort of your walls being stimulated whilst being so sensitive and then there was the gush of his cum and your juices that began to pour out and down your clit. “My favourite sight”, he admires, stroking your arse cheek as you smiled over your shoulder before closing your eyes and taking a moment to relax.

Eddie clambers off of the bed, turning on his stereo to the latest heavy metal album and then returningto caefully wipe way between your legs before manhandling your to lie across his chest. There the two of you just lay, enjoying the post-sex high.

Eventually, Eddie sparked up a cigarette, careful to try and blow the smoke away from you but the smell of it had become a comfort for you as you nuzzled further into his naked chest, feeling sleep nearly taking over.

A delicate kiss to the tip of your nose however had you coming back to the moment and opening your eyes, “Hey, don’t go to sleep for me just yet, I’m not quite done with you. We’re just having a little break but I still need to taste you Sweetheart”.

Your body warmed and you were now wide awake with the adrenaline pulsing through you. Eddie took another long suck of smoke, blowing it into the air and you never realised just how much the sight would turn you on. It was going to be a very long, sleepless night.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #dom eddie munson #stranger things smut #eddie munson one shot #mine*#stranger things one shot

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thebearer · 11 months

Note

would you ever write something about protective baby daddy carmy, maybe it’s only a few weeks until the baby is born so super big belly and coming to family or making her spend all the time at the restaurant so he doesn’t miss the birth

"Make way, wide corner!" Richie bellowed, arms waving back and forth, guiding you through the kitchen like you were an airplane landing.

You glared at him, a snarl in your expression as you waddled around the corner. It was hot and you were so fucking pregnant, due any day now. "Shut the fuck up, Richie." You huffed, flinching at the heat of the kitchen, a wave of nausea coming over you.

"Richie, leave that poor woman alone. What's the matter with you, huh?" Tina snarled, glaring harshly at Richie. "How're you doin', Mama? How's the baby?" Her tone dropped to something sweeter, kinder for you, hand rubbing over your swollen abdomen. Normally, it bothered you when people touched your bump, but Tina was different. It was comforting with her.

"Miserable. Swollen. Hot." You muttered, looking down at your growing belly where baby girl was still jabbing at your ribs.

"I mean this in the nicest way, but... has the baby grew more since last week?" Sydney's eyes were skittish and wide, darting carefully from your stomach back to you.

You snorted lightly, running a hand over the swell of your abdomen. "She dropped a few days ago. Getting ready for launch." You muttered.

"Oh, that-that's, uh, terrifying." Sydney nodded, awkwardly. "Sorry, that's not what you want to hear, but, uh..."

"No, you're right. It is." You laughed, a little uneasy. It was fucking terrifying, all of it- pregnancy, birth, motherhood in general. It was scary.

"It also is so fucking painful because now everything is heavier and my back feels like it might snap." You gave a fake forced smile.

"Oh, poor Mama. That just means she's close. Only a few more days?" Tina beamed. "How much does she weigh?"

"They think eight pounds." You groaned, Sydney's eye bulging expression.

"Ay dios mio..." Tina muttered under her breath. "Well, you'll be so drugged up, honey, you won't even feel it."

"I'm praying for a C-section." You scoffed lightly. "Carmen's already said he's gonna be a wreck either way."

"Yeah, and he will be, won't you, Cousin?" Richie cackled, clapping his cousin on the back as he passed by.

"Be what?" Carmen muttered, too in the game to even see you there. "Chef, have you finished prep?"

"No, Jeff. Talking to your beautiful baby mama." Tina cooed, giving your arm a gentle squeeze.

Carmen's eyes lifted to you, brow furrowed when he looked at the time. "Hey, baby, I lost track of time." He muttered, lips brushing over yours in greeting, hand gliding down your growing stomach.

"We know you did, Cousin." Richie scoffed. "I went and got her."

"You drove with Richie?" Carmen's eyes flashed to you.

"C'mon, Carm. I'm a good fuckin' driver, alright? Quit busting my balls." Richie snorted, rolling his eyes at him.

"He drove safe, Carmy." You reassured, hand rubbing down his forearms sweetly.

Carmen hummed, rolling his eyes gently, but moved you through the kitchen after Sweeps almost hit you with a pan rounding the corner. "Here, come in my office."

"Is it cooler in there?" You moaned, lip jutting in a pout. "I'm about to stand in the freezer, Carmy, it's so fuckin' hot in here."

"I know." Carmen had learned, knew better now, than to do anything but agree with you. He'd been on the receiving end of your wild hormones too many times, your lashing tongue or worse- the fucking tears.

"I put the fan in here, and I have that neck thing in my little fridge, ok? You should be laying down anyways. Not supposed to be up." Carmen frowned lightly , pushing the door open to his office.

The couch was now used as your temporary napping place throughout the day. Carmen had put the bear in overbearing- a joke you told him that he did not find that humorous- when you became pregnant, and it only got more and more severe as months went on. When you got into your third trimester, put on bed rest the last few weeks, Carmen had taken it beyond serious. Insisting that you come stay with him at the restaurant. He was terrified at the thought of something happening or you going into labor when he wasn't around.

You'd agreed, reluctantly, really only because you wanted Carmen close and... because you were in a restaurant. Any type of craving would be satisfied easily for you.

"I think if I lay down, Carmy, I'm not making it back up for family." You yawned gently, rubbing your eyes with the heel of your hand.

Carmen grinned, reaching to turn on the fan besides the couch, pointing it at you so it would blow the cool air over you. "That's alright. I'll bring it here to you." He muttered, pulling the blinds closed for you.

You sat down, propped against the pillows, head lolling to the side to look at him. Carmen sat beside you, hand rubbing over your stomach. "Where's she at today?"

"Same place she was this morning. Right under my ribs." You grin, moving his hand under your left boob, pressing to the side when her fluttered kicks were.

Carmen beamed, eyes brightening as his hand ghosted over the spot there. "Talk to her, Bear." You muttered, eyes fluttering shut. This pregnancy fatigue was no fucking joke. "She likes your voice."

"Yeah?" Carmen grinned, perking at the compliment.

"Yeah." You nodded. "She likes to hear her Daddy's voice. Makes her kick like fucking crazy."

Carmen leaned down, cheek resting on your stomach gently. "Hi, baby. Are you bein' good?" He muttered, your body flushing with adoration at the gentleness of his words. "You ready to come out soon? We're ready for you to. I know your Mommy is."

You snorted, a breathy laugh cut short by a sharp kick to your ribs. "Keep talking." You muttered, moving his hand a little further to wear the kick was. "Bring out the cookbooks again."

"Yeah?" Carmen hummed, eyes crinkling with amusement. "Your Mommy thinks that's funny, but when you come out knowing how to make bruschetta, she's gonna be blown away. Won't she?" Carmen's voice lilted, a tone of baby talk that had you swooning. It was new, something he just recently started doing in the recent weeks. While you were nesting, so was he, in a different way. Getting used to the idea of being a dad, the anxieties he felt traded in for an excitement.

Carmen could feel it, tiny kicks pressing through your tight, stretched skin. His baby, kicking to the sound of his voice. His heart swelled. "See, she agrees with me."

You laughed, running a hand through his hair. "I know she does. Already got you already, hm, Berzatto?"

"Gets it from her, Mama." Carmen jested back, a playful twinkle in his eyes that had your heart soaring out of your chest, tears welling in the corners- damn pregnancy hormones. "Learnin' from you already."

You smiled wordlessly, a watery grin that had Carmen a little on edge until you reached out, pulling his hand to your lips, pressing a kiss into his palm. Carmen's hand cradling your cheek, free hand going back to where the baby had been kicking, soothing it gently while your eyes fluttered shut.

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unholyhelbig · 6 months

Note

Natasha Romanoff x Reader with "Who did this to you?"

Title: Hallway Meetings

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 2077

Warnings: Injuries, blood, bruising, mugging, Bad Grammar

[A/n: I haven't written Nat in awhile, so here is some hurt comfort!]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

By the time you made it back to your apartment, the adrenaline had sufficiently worn off. The rush of energy that kept the pain at bay was the only thing that made it possible for you to sit through the bus ride across the city, the lights were much too bright and blue, your head pounding. You pressed your fingers against your ribs on the ride home, each exhalation trembling.

Somewhere along the way, the bus came rolling to a stop and the man behind the wheel huffed out at you. “End of the line.”

You were the only one on the bus, and by that time, you were fighting sleep entirely. There was no one else on the bus, and you didn’t see the point in arguing with him. His eyes were tired and dark. Something told you he was having a worse day than you were.

With begrudging compliance, you walked the three blocks to your building. You had forgotten your coat, and by the time you made it to the entrance, there was a numbness to the fingers that you refused to realize until you typed your code in and felt what real warmth was for only a moment.

The lobby smelled damp, as it always did despite the dry winter that the city was experiencing. Sickly yellow lights changed the tile on the floor from beige to green, and you lamented the fact that the elevator that had been busted since your move-in date was still in the same condition.

Any other day, it wouldn’t’ bother you. But you let out an involuntary groan at the sight before making your way up the first flight of stairs, your fingers still pushed against the aching of your mid-section. You were certain that they were broken, or at the very least, bruised. It pained you to take a deep breath.

Two more flights of stairs and the excitement of the night had worn away entirely. Your whole body pulsed with pain, with fatigue and regret for not listening to your mother the million times she told you to be careful on your way home, to keep an eye on your surroundings.

It’s not you that I don’t trust, it’s other people. Her words echoed listlessly in your mind as you searched your pockets for your keys. The group of men who had jumped you must have snagged them too, or they were lost in the shuffle of things. Either way, you were locked out, and the damn was about to break.

“Come on,” You whispered, pressing your aching head against the cool wood of the door. You suppose you should be thinking whatever higher power was up there for letting you escape with your life, just not your cell phone. But right now, it all felt like a cruel joke.

You weren’t sure how long you lingered there, but it was long enough to slide down to the carpeted hallway and lean your head against the wall. It was much too late to call your landlord, even if you could. You were suddenly content to sleep the night off in the corridor. Concussion or not, unconsciousness called to you.

At some point, you’d drifted off to the buzzing sound of the overhead lights. When your neighbor approached, you didn’t’ make any attempt to unfold yourself at the sound of her soft footsteps. She had always been so courteous when she was home, making as little noise as possible, even when she arrived well into the night. This was no different.

She put her hand on your shoulder softly, it was a stark difference from the cold of the hallway, and you startled all the same, inhaling deeply and with enough haste to make you wince, a soft “ow,” escaping your lips.

Natasha was knelt down in front of you, an undeniable look of worry on her face. The two of you had been neighbors for over a year now, and you would be the last to admit that you wanted to get to know her better. She was quite elusive, and always kind. She was a mystery to you, and that made you all the more curious.

The two of you operated on the same schedule when she was home. You often ended up walking down to the mailboxes together, sharing in small talk. She was guarded at first, but the first time you had gotten her to open up, to laugh at a joke you couldn’t even recall, you knew that you wanted to hear that sound more than once.

Natasha would help you up the stairs with your groceries, despite your protests. You would help her learn how to cook something other than boxed mac and cheese. The two of you had shared a six-pack of beer during the buildings holiday block party on the roof, despite the cold. That night, Natasha had taught you how to peg a stop sign with a snowball, her aim impeccable.

The moments were few and far between, but they meant something to you both. You hadn’t seen her for about a month at this point and figured that she was traveling. There was no mention of what she did for work, and she seemed content not to tell you, just as you were content to let her do so in her own time.

There was a suitcase next to her door, something you had never seen her with before. She was dressed in sweats, looking casual from a long day of travel. Her auburn hair was up in a loose bun, strands falling and framing her face. You couldn’t help but think that she was stunning.

Your face must have looked pretty banged up, because you could audibly hear her breath lodge in her throat. You hadn’t bothered calling the police, nor did you see much benefit in lingering in the spot that you’d been attacked. The only thought on your mind was getting back here, certainly not with the intention of seeing Natasha.

“Y/n,” her voice was gravelly. There was a coolness to her fingers that you wanted to lean into as she lifted your chin to get a better look at the pulsing feeling around your eye. You winced as her thumb moved against your busted lip, smearing away a streak of blood. “Who did this to you?”

Her voice was hard, almost with an edge of a threat on her tongue. You’d never heard her sound this way before. She was always soft, if not quiet in her calculations. Now, you saw worry and anger etched onto her beautiful features.

“Just some guys,” you said in an exhalation. “It’s not a big deal I got locked out.”

The attempt to diffuse her worry was going poorly. Natasha frowned at you and released your chin. You struggled to voice your protests as Natasha eased her arm tightly around your center, pulling you to your feet. You saw stars, not quite sure if it was from her sudden closeness, or the exhaustive injuries.

Natasha was strong. She held you with little effort, even as you threatened to slump back down into your previous position. She unlocked her door, and you were welcomed with a warm darkness until she flicked on the light by the door.

Her home was modest, and understated. It overlooked a beautiful part of the city, the walls lined with novels that you’d otherwise be interested in. There were undertones of vanilla and tobacco, the same scent Natasha carried like a sword, your nose pressed against the small of her neck as she led you to the sofa and deposited you there.

Natasha vanished down the hallway. If her apartment mirrored yours, she would move towards the bathroom at the end of the hall. You nudged yourself up taller on the sofa, trying not to let your blood wick into its fabric. When She returned, she sheepishly shook a first-aide kit.

She set out her supplies and you groaned when you saw the bottle of iodine and cotton pads. She had done this before. Natasha worked with ease, she unscrewed the cap on the bottle before flipping it onto the pad, a sick brown liquid sopped into the surface. You could smell it from here, nose crinkling in response.

“Stop squirming, this will help.”

You highly doubted that, but all the same, let her work at the cut that was slit across your eyebrow. She dabbed the antiseptic and you refused to pull away. You knew that you would never try to get out of Natasha’s grasp. Her hand was warm and guiding. The sting eventually eased.

She asked, “Do you remember where you were when this happened?”

“Whoever they are, they’re long gone.”

You drew in a sharp breath when she nudged your ribs by accident. A discontent frown fell across her features. It wasn’t the same look of heated anger that dawned on her in the hallway. Instead, this was one of pure concern.

“We should really wrap that, you know? There’s no cure for broken ribs, but we can ease your suffering a bit with some plastic wrap.”

Before you could answer she put the iodine on the table and walked towards her kitchen. You watched her carefully. Each movement was calculated. “How do you know so much about this?”

“I’ve been put into some unsavory positions.” Natasha returned with a meager roll of cellophane. She stood, a pink color on her cheeks. “You’re going to have to take off your shirt.”

Now you were sputtering, mumbling a few things under your breath. The thrumming of your mid-section was enough for you to agree, even though your own cheeks heated up at the thought. She had a bit of a quirk to her lip, both eyebrows raised in amusement.

You got stuck halfway through, a twinge of pain shooting through your core. You must have winced, or Natasha could read the pain in your eyes because she mercifully helped you the rest of the way out. When she was done, the two of you were incredibly close, her breath warm on your skin, goosebumps coating every inch of your body.

A budding bruise stretched across your ribs, marring the tender flesh there. Natasha exhaled deeply, you felt the action everywhere. Her fingers moved across the deep smudges of brown and black and purple. Your mouth was suddenly dry as her forehead leaned against yours. She was quieter than usual.

“This shouldn’t have happened.” Natasha was knelt in front of you again, glowering as her soft touch soothed your aching. “I’ve spent my entire life making up for mistakes that I’ve made. Trying to stop the big bads of the world when… when horrible things happen everywhere, and the truth is, I can’t stop everything.”

“You don’t need to shoulder that responsibility, Natasha.” You mindlessly cupped her cheek and she sighed into the touch, her eyes closing for a moment of gratitude. “That’s not your job.”

“It is,” She swallowed hard “it is. And it pains me that you’re hurting like this. That I couldn’t protect you. All I’ve wanted to do since the moment I’ve met you is protect you from me, and seeing you like this, God, it shouldn’t’ have happened.”

She was crying, and you thumbed them away as she had done with your blood a few moments earlier. If there was any hesitancy in her emotion, it washed away with the simple gesture. Her nose brushed against yours, cold from the journey home.

Nat smelled of melted snow and you remembered the night on the rooftop. The way your elbows brushed together as you watched the lights over the city. You almost closed the distance then and there, but she’d pulled away, and you awkwardly downed another frothy beer before she threw a second snowball, nailing the stop sign where you had fallen short.

Now, it was her that leaned in. There was a slight nip of pain where your lip had split, but it eased slowly into pleasure. She tasted like hazelnut coffee from the airport, of an edge of mind. Your fingers traced her jaw. She sighed into the kiss, the most fragile sound in the world.

You broke the embrace regrettably, sucking air through your teeth “oh, ouch.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry” she chuckled softly, nudging her forehead with her own, touch dancing over your midsection. “We really should get you patched up.”

#Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x you #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Soft Natasha Romanoff #Hurt/comfort #request #Marvel #Marvel Fanfiction

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welikeimagines-andfandoms · 5 months

Text

Thranduil NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Very caring and sweet. Wants to spend a lot of time wrapping his arms around his partner, like a mother koala. Will want to carry his partner to the bath and take his time with a gentle cloth

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On himself, his hands and fingers. He loves how both elegant and powerful they can be. He adorns them with regal looking rings. Loves how they can give his partner both pleasure and pain

On a partner I feel like he loves hips. Great place to grab onto to manoeuvre and hold on tight while he’s fucking hard. Also a great place to anchor you as he holds you, running his fingers from the top of the rib cage all the way to the bottom of the hip and squeezing it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Loves to cum on his partner and will just look at them covered in cum for a bit while his breathing starts to calm down. He becomes almost amazed at how his partner looks

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I’ve seen heaps of people say how he wants to fuck his partner on his throne but I believe he wants to give oral on his throne. Is usually dominant but the almost taboo of having someone else sit on his throne and he be on his knees is something that always feels new and exciting to him

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He had a small handful of experiences with partners before his wife but mainly just one night stands as a sexy young prince. I believe he got all of his experience and talent from his wife. Big hoe with one person sort of thing

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy style I’d say. Being able to control the pace so much and grab as much of his partner as he’d like. Pulling them up to have them flush against against his chest while he can grab at them too.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not very goofy. Can be cute and sweet while his partner sits on his lap and he plays with them but never really goofy. Usually pretty serious in the heat of the moment but can switch to sweet and soft quickly.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Very groomed and sparse golden hair

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It depends. He likes to fuck hard and isn’t usually very romantic in the act but he definitely can be. If his partner needs him in that way he is more than happy to hold them, kiss them and sweet talk them while he makes love.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Not that often. Barely ever if he’s in a relationship and about once or twice a week if he’s not.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Size and Kingly kink.

If it’s a human partner then there’s definitely a size/dominance kink, wanting to be in charge and dominant.

Would use his power and Royal position to push his dominance further. Making his partner call him ‘my king’ and ‘your highness’ really gets him going

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His throne or his big royal bed. Wants to be left alone with just him and his partner and be able to fuck however he likes.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When his adrenaline is raised from either training or battle and he’s finding his partner and fucking them hard.

Seeing his partner wearing formal/regal wear makes him want to reck them, ruining their beautifully done hair and pristine outfit.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

No weapons, even a paddle. He never wants to make his partner bleed and he wants to be able to properly control the pain he gives, so hand spanking instead of a paddle every time

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Loves to both give and receive.

When he gives he holds his partner down and craves to overstimulate them with his mouth. His partner will never cum only once if he’s giving them oral.

He prefers to sit instead of laying down when receiving. Either on his throne or a big armchair. Loves to look down onto his partner and stroke their hair and talk dirty. He isn’t opposed to face fucking but prefers his partner take their time so he can tease them while they pleasure him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and rough when he’s fucking but slow and sensual with oral

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

The version of quickies that he likes is dragging his partner away to somewhere quiet and using his fingers and hands to make them cum before going about his day. Sometimes he likes to see how many times he can quickly make them cum between duties.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Doesn’t really like to take many risks. He is king and while he likes to degrade his partner at times, he does keep his focus on keeping them safe and away from prying eyes.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He will go as many rounds as his partner can take. If he takes a human partner he likes to go until they just pass out from pleasure. Can hold off from cumming for a long time but also doesn’t really have much of a refraction period so he can just keep going and going

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

The only toy he really has are plugs because he likes to bring his partner pleasure himself. Will put the plug in his partner and make them wear it at a fancy event.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Loooovvvveeesss to tease. The teasing is done with light touches and whispered words in public. Drive his partner crazy while he acts so innocent and will never be caught in what he’s doing

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Lots of powerful grunts and looottttsss of dirty talk. He growls pretty loud when he cums but mainly lots of grunts and groans.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

If his partner is more of a casual thing he’d never be submissive but if he’s in a committed relationship with someone he loves to be taken care of in a submissive position. If his partner is AFAB he will want to get pegged and will want to suck and lick their strap.

In a committed relationship he loves his partner to be a soft dom every now and then. Not often, probably like once or twice a year.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

A lot longer then average but pretty average width

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

When not in a relationship it’s about average but in a relationship it goes right up. Wanting to fuck like every second day or something.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Not that quickly at all. Will always wait until his partner falls asleep and is asleep for about 15-20 minutes before he even tries to drift off

#Thranduil #Thranduil x reader #Thranduil imagine #Thranduil x oc #the hobbit #the hobbit imagine #Thranduil fan fiction

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princeoftheeternalbog · 22 days

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Helloooo, I’m not sure if you still do requests on One Piece characters or anything- but if you do I have a scenario in mind. I was wondering if you could do one specifically with Traflagar Law who has a S/O which gets injured and refuses his help. The S/O has a problem with accepting help and has trouble being vulnerable in front of others- only seeing it as weakness. This could also work for the other more colder One Piece characters…cause idk they just have a special place in my heart. (Though if you can’t that’s okay, but I thought I’d ask)

ALSO I read lots of your posts and absolutely love your scenarios and head-cannons, you literally portray all the characters so well and it’s amazing.

This is the cutest ask and thank you omg😭

I hope this is good🫶

And little trigger warning for descriptions of injury and blood at the beginning, I'll put a line so you know where to skip to if you don't want to read that bit.

I totally accidentally posted this so now I'm writing as it's up, forgive me😞 OKAY IT'S IN A FINISHED STATE I MAY ADD MORE AFTER I FORCE MY FRIEND TO READ OVER IT🕺🏻🕺🏻

I don't know if I'm happy with the length either i kinda feel it should be longer.

The soft, shlick of a blade through flesh rings in your ears. The adrenaline rushing through your body swallows any pain in an instant, but you can feel the pressure as it drags into your side and you wince anyway.

But you can't stop.

If you stop he's going to get past, he's going to hurt the people you call a family and so you can't stop.

His frame is hulking, freakishly tall and looming over you. The level of brute force he's exerting has your heart stuttering in fear, the staccato rhythm making you feel light headed. Though that could be the blood that's dripping from your side.

You hit his sternum, hard, and feel a crack. He stumbles, dazed, your fist comes up to head height and your aim is killer as it slams into the side of the man's head.

He's out cold.

The sigh of relief that exits your body almost overshadows the sudden pain resonating throughout your torso. Without an oncoming threat, you're able to take the time to lift your shirt and look at the damage. It's mostly mottled bruising but just under your lowest left rib is a long but shallow cut. Not life threatening in any way but still inconvenient.

It hurts to breathe and you're not sure if your rib bones are fully intact either, not with the way he was hitting.

The adrenaline is fading quickly, you needed to get him inside.

He'd crumpled into a very ungraceful pile when you knocked him out and it's difficult to tie him securely. But you do. And then you take a deep breath and haul him up over your shoulders in a botched fireman's lift.

Your captain would want to find out who decided it would be a good idea to send someone after the heart pirates.

Your captain would...

The last thing you think about before you hit the deck face first is him.

He's silent as he works.

It's almost unnerving actually, how quiet he can be when he wants to.

"Law-"

The look he shoots you is so intense that you physically shrink back, mouth closing as you drop your gaze to the floor.

He lets out a heavy sigh as he finishes disinfecting the last of his tools before he turns to you.

"What is wrong with you."

He's angry, you can feel it radiating off him, it digs into the soft underbelly of your emotions and you bristle at his words.

"I was just doing my job" Your tone is sharp but he doesn't flinch.

"Your job does not involved getting killed you idiot."

"Well I didn't get killed so it's not that big of a deal"

He looks like he's about to blow a gasket, the vein in his forehead pulsing with the renewed blood flow.

"Not a big deal? Not a big deal?"

You have the distinct feeling that you might've fucked up a little. That still doesn't stop you from digging a deeper hole to be buried in.

"I'm fine just let me deal with my own problems"

His eye actually twitches but you keep talking.

"It's barely a scratch, I don't need help- especially not yours."

The thunderous anger on his face is now accompanied by hurt, but his voice is soft when he says,

"Let me help you"

"I just said I don't need help"

"I don't think that you know what you need"

That stings. To know he doesn't trust your judgement after everything you've been through. There's a pressure at the back of your throat now and it's so uncomfortable, you need to leave.

But as you go to move, Law is much quicker as he grabs you by your upper arm, pulling you into his space.

"Where are you going"

You don't look at him.

He sighs before his other arm comes around your waist and he lifts, walking across the room to set you down onto a table.

"Why don't you understand that I care about you"

The emotion in his voice unsettles you, makes your chest feel tight and you really don't want to deal with this.

He's gentle as he gets to work on your injuries, easily cleaning and stitching up your side before moving to bind your ribs.

"I need you to remove your shirt"

Your hands are shaking, he hasn't really seen the full extent and you're sure he's not going to respond well. It's hard to get the buttons of your shirt undone so when a second pair of hands come up, you don't push them away. But him being closer means you hear the exact moment he realises how bad it is, his inhale is sharp and he says something in a language you don't know.

"Why didn't you call for backup?"

You take a while to respond, trying to squash down any emotion in your voice,

"I didn't need it"

"Did you want it?"

The question makes you squirm with discomfort, your eyes water.

"It doesn't matter because I didn't need it"

He sighs again. That's all you seem to be making him do today.

And then his arms are coming up around you, pulling you closer to the edge of the table and closer to him. One of his hands rests on your back and the other pushes your head into the crook of his shoulder, allowing you a semblance of privacy in such an intimate moment.

"You need to understand that not letting us help you is counterintuitive to being part of a crew"

The statement makes you flinch and you try to push away from him but that fight took a lot of your strength. His grip tightens anyways.

"Do you think I find it easy to be vulnerable?"

"...No"

"Do you think I would want you to die?"

You don't respond this time, chest heaving as you tremble.

"It's not easy to see you like this. You are not a human shield."

"I know" Your voice is quiet and thick with tears but he seems to relax slightly at your agreement.

The hand on your back is moving in gentle shapes, but his grip is still firm, as if he's trying to affirm that you're here and alive.

"I can't have a crew member that doesn't trust anyone"

You tense.

"I can't have a partner that won't be vulnerable with me"

Guilt and dread roll through your stomach. Surely he doesn't mean-

"I can't trust that you won't die because you feel can't rely on others so you're benched until we work through it"

Oh. You actually feel a bit relieved, you thought he was going in a much different direction. You lean back out of his hold so you can look at his face through wet eyes.

His expression is soft but he looks tired and the guilt rears it's head again.

"I'm sorry"

Somehow his expression gets even softer,

"I know"

He kisses you then. It's grounding, brings you back to a semblance of calm and you almost wonder why you were so apprehensive in the first place. He's gentle and warm and you feel slightly self conscious that your lips might be puffy from crying but you don't pull away.

It's reverent, like he worships you.

You think you could learn to let him take care of you.

You think you would let him do anything.

If it feels like this.

#one piece x reader #x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #Trafalgar law fic #one piece fic #op fic #op x gn reader #one piece x gn reader #Trafalgar law x gn reader #law x gn reader #law x you #trafalgar law x you #one piece x you

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shotmrmiller · 3 months

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tw: mentions of simon's torture and SA so heed my warning plz

this is unfinished idk which way to take it, either a weird redemption or just keep him mean so here you go

I like to think that instead of Simon taking off his mask as a show of trust, it's his gloves.

He hates physical contact.

Back during his torture, Simon would have both eyes swollen shut more often than not, completely robbing him of his sight.

He'd bitten through his tongue through the worst of it, leaving him with a constant metallic taste of blood in his dry mouth.

There was never a moment of silence for him either. An insistent ringing in his ears, loud like a stirred-up hornet's nest. Buzzing in the canal, stinging in his ear drums.

Yet the one sense that only nothing could ever stop, unless unconscious, was touch. Simon couldn't stop feeling. Chapped, thin lips over his own. A grubby hand fisting his hair, pulling so hard he'd feel the pop of strands coming off of his scalp. The piercing pain of his broken nose, burning on his split lip; the crippling, blinding agony of the cold, metal hook in between his lower ribs. Delicate fingers leaving a searing trail across his bruised flesh, down to his—

Simon Riley does not like touch nor be touched. He covers himself from head to toe to avoid skin-to-skin contact— the gloves never come off. He grits his teeth when Johnny hits his shoulder, clenches his jaw painfully when Price taps his arm.

The only sensation he doesn't mind is the blood that soaks the fabric of his gloves when he digs his blade into an unsuspecting neck.

But that didn't mean his needs had faded from existence. Much to his disappointment, Simon was still of flesh and blood. He still felt a stirring in his loins whenever he laid eyes on a piece of fuckable meat. It's all he saw them as; just a hole for him to use.

He didn't get much of a chance to satiate the thirst, however, because of the one restriction Simon had.

Hands to yourself.

From the ones he'd chosen to take to a no-tell motel, only a handful had stayed. Not that it bothered him any, they had always thought themselves special enough for him to change his mind.

"Rules are rules, sweets. Take it or fuckin' leave."

And then he meets you at some dingy bar. You'd flitted your way over to him, like a moth to a flame.

If only you knew that he was an all-consuming fire; he'd burn you to ashes.

You'd been quick in agreeing to let him fuck you, too. His gloved hand grabbed your elbow in a tight grip, harshly dragging you into the men's bathroom. "Only one rule. Don't touch me. You keep your hands on anythin' else other than me. I take what ya give me, and in turn, you'll take what I give ya."

With your hands tightly gripping the edge of the porcelain sink, he'd taken you from behind viciously. Hungrily. Deliciously. He'd then left you in the bathroom with your number and his cum dried on the cleft of your arse.

It was like this for months. Always dropping by your house for a visit when the night was darkest.

"Hands on the headboard." His covered hands would rest right next to yours on it as he filled you up with his heavy cock.

"Hold your legs open f'me." The rough material of his gloves on the underside of your thighs never failed to bleed a little pain into your heady pleasure.

And then he'd started pulling the balaclava he wore up to rest right above his lips and settle his head between your quivering thighs. Ghost would drag his smart tongue through your folds and flick your slippery clit.

You'd ripped a hole into the bedsheets to keep from digging your nails into the thick muscle of his shoulders when you climaxed.

You also never brought it up after. He ate pussy like a man starved- all lips and tongue, occasionally a nip or two. This proverbial horse's teeth would never see the light of day.

Over a period of time, Ghost started staying a little longer after the hookups, and began to show up a tad earlier than the usual witching hour.

now this is where we choose the ending

is it a, he grabs your hands and chooses where you can touch? he stays in control the entire time because that's what he needs. control. a choice.

he'll blindfold you so you don't see him, only feel. feel the stubble on his strong jaw, the contours of his waist, his hips; feel how rough his bare hands are on your own smooth skin.

do you eventually question why he doesn't let you touch him? he'll snap his teeth at you like a rabid dog? you're not privy to his back story. he'll aggressive shrug his shirt back on and jerkily pull his pants up. doesn't even tie his bootlaces, just walks out your front door. you don't hear from him again.

it hurts, honestly. you'd only asked a simple question and he didn't even give you a chance to apologize.

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itstheghostofmypast · 7 months

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San's Lucky Charm

San x (f)Reader ft. Hongjooong

Summary: The five times Choi San had felt so lucky that the world around him would cease to exist.

Genre: Fluff (a tinge of angst) (simp San- i do not regret this)

Warnings: None

A/N: Choi San's got me whipped, I just can't. Please remember to show some love by 💗 and reblogs

"I'm so lucky." his mumbling caught her ear, heading snapping in his direction as she glared at him from the kitchen island, the contents of his unmade birthday cake spread out in shame. Placing his jacket and phone on the couch, he made his way to the open kitchen, trying not to look at the content displayed on the kitchen island, that would upset her even more, he knew better than to upset his lucky charm. Arms wrapped around her waist, he smiled down at her, crescents adorning his face, the apples of his cheeks radiating a soft blush, on similar to the first time she had made him feel like this. With pouted lips he mimicked whatever cute being he could imagine and mumbled out an "I’m sorry, I wanted to surprise you."

"Yeah, well you ruined my surprise, big boy."

His heart slammed against his rib cage with an intensity that scared him, fearing that she, no, the whole world could hear the way it hammered against his soul, when he laid eyes on her, when her sweet chime would ring in his ears, when he would feel her breath in his soul- it was her, it was the same experience, a form of Deja vu he would go through each time, falling in love with her all over again. It made him feel so lucky, she made him feel so lucky. There were many occasions when she made him feel as such, but there were five moments in particular that made his heart race and cheeks flush every time the memories crossed his mind.

1)The first time she had been ever so graceful to bless him with luck was when he, according to himself, needed it the most. In their pre-debut years, when he was but a country side boy experiencing life in Seoul, the bustling and busy life had begun to take a toll on his health. The late-night practices back at their studio in Gangnam weren't helping him either. He had thought of talking about this to either Hongjoong or Yunho but he knew himself well enough that he'd rather endure the pain than bring any form of discomfort to anyone else.

It was after their third practice session when he had asked to go take a five-minute breather, which, after noticing his flushed features and worn-out eyes, Hongjoong instantly agreed to with a “Take 10 instead”.

After thanking his soon-to-be Captain, he walked out into the corridor, dragging his feet across the tiles to the vending machine at the corner. This very vending machine had become his very best friend in these dire times of the night, where the mint chocolate Oreo packets were waiting for him every night. Not the healthiest snack but it is an enjoyable one nonetheless. Unfortunately, his favourite machine was not cooperating that night, spitting out that note he'd push in, whining in frustration he slammed his hand against the glass, watching everything inside shiver, but nothing else came out.

Taking a deep breath, he tried one more time, flattening the note in his palms and waving it in the air to blow away any bad luck. A pointless feat for as soon as the machine sucked in the note, it spat it back out and in return, he banged his forehead against the glass, repetitively, until he heard someone clear their throat. Twirling around he whined, "Hyuuuug, gimme a note-"

"Not Hongjoong, but you can take mine."

"What- oh" he squeaked, clearing his throat and rubbing his eyes to squint at the source, he had seen her before a few times, she was part of the temp staff, odd jobs here and there, but she was mainly here because of Hongjoong. His captain didn't have many friends, not many he trusted, but she had been one of those special few. According to Yeosang, she was as weird as Hongjoong when it came to her work, though he wasn't sure what her real role was.

"Here." moving past him she slipped her note into the machine and punched in the code, watching the biscuit fall into the tray. He was thankful he really was, and would've thanked her verbally too if he wasn't so flustered and tired. As her hand read to grab it from the tray another packet fell onto the tray as well as she chuckled, surprised but amused nonetheless. His eyes widened for a split second but softened at the sound of her little laugh, a smile gracing his lips as he felt a new sense of confidence bloom within his chest, eyes meeting her's when she faced him, holding out two packets, "Here, guess you were lucky today."

"I guess I was." he watched her walk away, somewhat saddened by the conclusion of their short encounter, yet, in his head her words twirled with passion, one that lit his heart on fire- San had always been everything, but lucky. He was smart, hardworking, and dedicated and in return his chest cavity was filled with a pure, glass heart- luck had never been in the picture. Especially not 10 minutes ago, so it was not him whose fate had finally jinxed the machine into giving him what his wee heart desired in the late hours of the night, no, it was her. She was the one who was lucky- an overreach, perhaps, but one his 16-year-old self had begun to take note of, hence, tonight he was lucky to have been graced by her presence.

2) "Need help with tha-at?" grimacing at the way his voice cracked at the end of the question, extremely unappealing, cursing his hormones. The tall, slender boy, cleared his throat, his beanie covering his forehead and eyebrows, his -Yunho's- sweater a bit too large on his frame.

"Hmm? Oh hi, Sannie- no, no I'm good." she peaked from above the two boxes she had been carrying. He was about to pester her even more, but stopped when Wooyoung slipped past him, taking a box off the other one to lighten her burden, earning a small 'Thanks'.

"Wouldn't want our fragile boy to get hurt." He winked at his friend who was now walking next to the two, almost third wheeling - dramatic as it may be, but after the machine encounter, he had come to the realisation that when it came to her, he was no less than a jester in a Shakespearean play for her, not that she had ever claimed so, but he would become one, making a fool out of himself had become his second nature. Wooyoung's statement, it was a simple joke, and an inside joke, it was true though, Yunho had once compared him to a kitten as well, claiming that his head was too big for his fragile body. Wasn't wrong though, San was on the skinnier side, but it's not like he didn't eat, he really did, but perhaps that’s how he was designed to be.

"Careful Wooyoung, he's already outgrown you in height," placing the box on Hongjoong's desk, much to his disapproval, "What are you gonna do if he bulks up too?"

San, who was sulking at the back, perked up at the suggestion, quietly taking a seat next to Seonghwa who slid him a file. Snorting out in response Wooyoung squinted at San then at her, "Nah."

"We'll see." she shrugged and handed a pen and clipboard to Hongjoong, "Sign here please, make sure to tip the delivery person."

"You gotta stop taking these odd jobs." He mumbled signing the papers, "Just ask for an increment here." handing her the papers back he rolled his eyes at the lack of attention from his friend, taking in the way her eyes were stationed upon the boy across him, studying his face as he read his own file.

"What's this?" he whispered to Seonghwa who shrugged, not even bothering to look up for him game, "Gym membership, Yeo and Jongho signed up too. Was Y/N's idea."

His head shot up at a whine, "Hongjoong, what is 0.02% tip?"

"Based on the service provided."

"EXCUSE ME?"

He watched the two argue, wanting to ask her something, but he was never going to in front of everyone, so he waited, patiently as ever, for much like how he was considerate, he was patient as well. "20℅"

"2% and no more, or I swear I'll send an anonymous complaint about you."

"I hope your food delivery gets cancelled." with that she stomped out, earning a roar of laughter from the table of his groupmates and curses from Hongjoong. Quick as a cat he pounced at the door, running behind her into the staircase, "Wait up!" he called out spontaneously, unsure of what was to be said next.

"Hmm?" she turned to him, clipboard in hand, "Yes?"

"I… I um." clearing his throat he looked around, "I- this- I mean hyung gave me this and- What I mean is, do you think I should go for it-"

"You don't have to bulk up for anyone San. Not Wooyoung, not the world", smiling at him she took the pen in his hand and wrote something on her own clipboard, "And not me." looking at him she handed it back, "Just do whatever you want, but because you want to do it."

"O-oh…" his cheeks had begun to match the colour of his red sweater, as he looked at his feet nodding. Just like last time, he watched her walk away, leaving him feeling that same thing once more, feeling lucky to know someone out there was looking out for him without any personal gain just wanting him to be happy.

That day he signed up for the gym, not for anyone but himself. That very day Hongjoong mysteriously ended up paying a 20% tip to the delivery person- "How-I swear I'll kill her."

3) The third time Choi San had been blessed by his lucky charm was his personal favourite. The World album was a success, things were going well, they were planning on a world tour, promotions and sponsorships were, and everything was great but for some reason, Choi San felt a bit out of place. Wasn't sure if it was the fatigue or the lingering thought of how he could've done even better. He had come to this realisation during the celebratory dinner, that everyone around him was having fun, drinking, eating, and letting loose. Seated between Wooyoung and Hongjoong, he had opted to not drink, knowing he was a light drinker, someone had to take care of his brothers, even if they were at the dorm, he had to make sure each one got into bed properly. While there had been no clear topic discussing his lack of effort, the group had started talking about how each member had worked themselves to their limits, Jongho and Wooyoung being the two most affected.

"Sannie held out well though." Hongjoong patted his head, "Strong boy" the drunk leader claimed before going back to talk about Wooyoung who was basking in the unfiltered attention. It wasn't like he didn't have problems as well; he had been spending an unimaginable time at the gym and then at practice, with little time left for sleeping or eating, and even though his body had begun to show signs of fatigue, he refused to take a hint. Whether he’d admit it or not, he had seen how hard everyone was working and he had no intention of burdening them even more, which is why, during their last performance of the season, when he stood there out of breath, almost on the verge of tears, he prayed to God his body wouldn’t give up on him- at least not while they were still on stage. Although berated by Hongjoong later, he was glad during the time he could help the team give a hundred percent, but apparently, for the little voice inside his head, that still wasn’t enough. It would constantly remind him of how each member had somehow outdone him, and improved more than he did, no matter how much time he’d spend at the gym, at practice, and in vocal classes, he still lagged behind.

Upon closing Wooyoung’s bedroom door, after tucking him all good, he sighed, returning to the lounge, thinking of cleaning up so they’d have less to do in the morning. They had moved into a house, which meant they were to clean up after themselves too, but at least everyone had their own rooms now. His thoughts were not going to let him sleep anytime soon, brain on overdrive, irritated by the slightest crunch of the plastic foil, or the way his glasses would slip off the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t until he was done throwing away all the Tupperware that the sound of the doorbell had his entire body jerk, a small squeak escaping his lips, like a scared cat, ears burning out embarrassment he cleared his throat and glanced at the clock. It was already past midnight, only a handful of people had their addresses and the manager had specifically told them to not bother him for the night, which is why he tip-toed to the door, pressing on the intercom and waiting for the other person to respond, since their intercom had no visual option, thanks to Mingi who had claimed that such things record and attract ghosts.

“You gonna let me in or just wait like a creep?”

It was her? The last he had heard from her was from Hongjoong, who had looked particularly annoyed that day, almost two years ago, when San was budding up the courage to confess to her, to woo her, after taking notes from Wooyoung- not a great idea but his man always had his back. So, when he had decided to go to her in her little cubicle, he was shocked to find it empty, He returned to the practice room to find Hongjoong staring at his laptop, unmoving. He had chosen to not ask about her- since his captain looked deep in thought, but his next question had caught the man off guard, “San, what do you think about Y/N?”

A simple question he had no real answer to, no, he did have an answer to it, but he wanted to see how it would play out, did perhaps Hongjoong share similar feelings as him? He had known her longer than San did, they were closer too, perhaps he was only questioning to ensure the younger one didn’t like her back. The thought process took so long that Hongjoong had begun to continue his monologue, rendering San’s response useless and untold, “She’s moving to the States, to study, apparently saved enough to afford the degree she wanted- I mean she could have gotten it here too, but when does she ever listen.” That day he had just nodded along with his sad captain, giving him a sympathetic smile every so often as he narrated about how he had met her back in school and she had told him they’d become rich one day and now he was all alone.

“Hongjoong, I will not be climbing over the gate in a skirt”, eyes widening at the static voice erupting from the intercom he cleared his throat before pressing the button, “It's open.” Was all he said before quickly turning to glance at his reflection in the closest reflective object, then smoothed down his shirt. A white tee over sweatpants was not how he wanted her to see him after two years. Pushing his glasses back up to their original position he opened the door to come face to face with his object of admiration and closeted love. She had grown, matured, and turned into a beauty he would willingly drop to his knees for, just to bask in her glow.

Her fist was about to meet the wood of the door before it opened, a certain someone coming in view, his shy eyes meeting her curious ones, a small smile gracing her lips as she casually let out a, “You’ve grown big, Sannie”, causing him to let out a nervous chuckle.

She watched him pour something in two mugs, admiring the expanse of his back, shoulders as wide as the ocean, the shirt clinging onto him for its dear life every time he’d move, he had grown taller too, and his physical presence was now a sweet contrast with his shy personality, the introverted being that he was. Turning to her with a gentle smile he placed the coffee in front of her, “Sorry about the mess,” sitting in front of her, the marble bar between the two, “Everyone went to sleep a while ago, including Hongjoong.” He claimed carefully, somehow the voice was back, telling him how she was not here for him, but his leader, perhaps wanting to surprise him, and meeting San was nothing more than a coincidence.

Resting her elbow on the counter she hummed, chin in hand, smiling at him, other hand tracing random patterns on the marble, “I had a feeling, but I didn’t come here for him, I came for you.” Her confession had him choking on his coffee, hissing at the burning sensation, as he slammed his mug down, causing her to run around to him, rubbing his back as she took the mug from him.

Clearing his throat to restore whatever shambles of his dignity he had left, he looked at her for an explanation, earning a nervous chuckle, she looked up at him, “You really have grown, I can’t believe I have to look up at you even when I’m standing and you’re sitting.”

"Don't change the subject." he cut her off, if what she had said was a joke, he didn't find it funny at all, "What do you mean by you came here to see me." His eyes bore a kind of sharpness that made her skin tingle, fingertips itching to smoothen the newly formed creases between his brows.

"I can only pin on you for so long, Sannie." a mumble escaped her, and suddenly everything but his face became more interesting.

"I don't…understand."

With a defeated sigh she shook her head, going back to her bar stool, perching herself atop it, radiating her usual bright arua as if nothing had happened. "What I meant was, I came to tell Hongjoong that I've moved back to the company" Pausing to glance up at him, making sure he was processing her words, she noticed the dark circles that had seemed to become one with his face, his tired eyes boring into hers, "I also know you almost blacked out in the last performance…. Was gonna yell at him for not noticing earlier."

Neither of the two when it had happened or when it had begun, but by the time she had finished her statement, the two were merely inches away, bodies separated by the counter but faces so close their breaths were mingling together, basking in each other's warmth. Perhaps it was he who had leaned in closer first, he was taller than her, and her entire weight was on her elbows as she tried to meet him halfway. His sharp eyes scanned her features, wondering why he hadn't mustered up the courage before she had left, the voice in his head yelling at him, warning him that if he made a move, he'd probably ruin their friendship and his dynamic with their leader.

"Why…" he whispered, his insecurities getting the better of him.

"Are you really going to make me say it, big boy?" with one final thought she leaned in closer, lips brushing against his before quickly pulling back and sitting properly.

He sat there, upper body leaning on top of the counter, looking at her with an unreadable expression, crooked glasses framed on his flushed face, staring right at her with eyes as big as a hyperactive cat's.

"Wait. Once more."

His words caught her off guard, a bubby laugh breaking past her lips as she shook her head, "No, you need to go to sleep, you're tired as hell."

Whining he moved around the counter to come to her, as she turned to face him, looking up at him expectantly, "I don't think you understand, you need to nurse me back to health."

"What?" chuckling she shoved him playfully, surprised by how she was unable to move him even an inch, blushing at the thought of what he'd feel like against her.

"You heard me, one more!" gesturing with his finger he leaned in closer only to pause when she cupped his face, squishing his cheeks, "I only kiss boys who are well rested." There it was, after two whole years, the warmth of being loved, the hug of luck, wrapping around him, silencing the tiny voice at the back of his head.

Pecking the tip of his nose, she smiled at the way his nose scrunched up in response. His fingers wrapped around her wrists gently peeling her hands off his face, never breaking eye contact even once, tilting his head he kissed the palm of her hand, before standing tall over her, her hands in his. Finally, he was having his moment, with his lucky charm, anticipating many more to come.

"You're my lucky charm." he beamed, admiring the way her eyes widened for a second before turning into crescents, her smile the biggest he'd ever seen.

"And I'm going to have so much fun with this."

The two froze at the new voice, dreading who it was, so much so that she didn't even dare turn her flushed face to face the third party interrupting their little moment. San on the other hand burst into a smile, turning to face him, still hand in hand with his lucky charm, "You're good at keeping secrets, right hyung?"

Yunho, it was always Yunho who caught them

4) The fourth time a similar feeling of lucky rode up his spine was an unexpected one, one that led him to owe Yunho another favour. Like any other day at work, San was busy going through sheets of music he was given, wondering when to practice with Jongho, considering the two were going to work out together as well. He hadn’t looked up from the sheets until someone came and sat beside him, glancing at the person who chose to sit right next to him in a room filled with empty seats, Yunho. "You talked to Y/N today?" Yunho asked, casually picking up one of the music sheets. Since that fateful night, Yunho had promised to keep their relationship a secret, though he had warned San in private, that although her relationship with Hongjoong was platonic, there was a sense of brotherly protectiveness the captain showed around her. One wrong move could unleash the beast.

"We texted in the morning, why?" placing down his sheet he turned to look at Yunho, something had to be wrong, otherwise, Yunho would never talk about their relationship at work, even at the dorm, it was more of a secret texting thing. Y/N had even made a group chat comprised with the three of them. Though it comprised Yunho and Y/N spamming the chat more than anything, San would just scroll through at night, smiling at the silly memes or banter.

"Did you notice… anything odd?" the older one asks, placing the sheet between them, "I haven't seen her around though, so I thought she didn't come by."

"No" he frowned in confusion, clearly remembering her telling him in the morning that she'd come to work and the two could have lunch, though she later cancelled it and said she had a meeting to go to, "I…is something wrong?"

"San, you gotta pick up on hints bro, or at least think like most people do." Yunho sighed, before balling up a paper and tossing it at him, landing smack on his forehead as he winced, rubbing his palm over his forehead, letting out a confused, "Did I do something?"

"No, I don't think it's you." he hummed thinking to himself, "But if you want to ever get Hongjoong's approval, you should accept the first thing about her, she’d rather keep in all her little secrets than tell anyone she’s hurting, which assume you already know."

That's all it had taken for San to bounce back on his feet and stomp out of the room, he knew, he just knew she had finally snapped, but being herself, she would have never let anyone see her during her moments of vulnerability. Fortunately for her, Choi San had always known where she'd go during those moments, a place he had stumbled upon during his trainee years, the rooftop. He had come up here once, trying to clear his head from all the commotion, when Hongjoong and Wooyoung had disagreed on something turning into a war of insults thrown back and forth, so to avoid the toxicity he had come up here, only to free by the door when he heard a sniffle. He knew he should've left, but he just had to know if he could help the person out, be better, a useful person- he couldn't though, for when he had peaked outside, he froze, eyes casting on a slouched figure sitting on the ground, hugging her knees as she stared ahead- no, that day Choi San had backed out and left her there to cry, too afraid to approach her, but not tonight.

The door slammed open causing her breath to hitch, instantly wiping her tears with the back of her hand, stood up to turn and lock eyes with the person she had been trying to avoid all day.

Within a matter of minutes, she was wrapped in his warmth, face flush against his chest, his scent enveloping her, snug and secure in his loving embrace. He stood there with her in his arms, protecting her from the chilly breeze, one hand placed on her back while the other one loving caressed her head. Placing a chaste kiss to the side of her head he whispered, "I don't know what's got you so upset, but no one gets to hurt my lucky charm."

That night the two stayed up there on the roof with the moon and stars watching over them. He was seated on the ground, with her side pressed into him, nuzzling into his neck ever so often, forcing a contented sigh out of him, arm lazily draped over her form as he began to hum a random tune.

"Won't you ask me…why I'm here?"

If he weren't literally pressed to her, her whisper would've gone deaf to his ears. Fortunately for both of them, their relationship had birthed a newly formed sense of confidence in him, which is why he would always be watching her, observing her, listening to her, from her words to the beating of her heart.

"I won't force you."

It was these words that led him to open the floodgates of her insecurities, wave after wave, poured into him, with full hopes of having the ability to swim through it all. That night she told him about how people would associate her with a gold-digger because she was friends with Hongjoong, how when she had told this to him, he had confronted the people making it worse, no one ever believed they were just best friends. It was after that she decided to move abroad for her degree, to prove everyone wrong and to make sure when she came back, she'd be respected by everyone, including San. That night she had confessed that she had been pinning on him ever since Hongjoong introduced the two, which is why when the rumours got worse, she feared he would believe they were true, resulting in the decision of her degree abroad. Even after coming back, even after finally being able to love him freely, she was labelled as the same, but what was worse was that if their relationship was ever to surface, then she would be accused of using the kind-hearted man, because San was gullible, always had been and according to many she was a witch. No one had ever seen her struggle, or noticed the number of odd jobs she had, yet, here they all stood ready to accuse her, what she feared the most was that one day, if they were able to convince him, he might accuse her of it too.

By the end of her confession, all San remembers is that he had ended up crying, pulling her closer to him, if that were even possible. He shoved her face further into his hoodie, letting her take it all out, strategically keeping his tears hidden from her. It was moments like these that had him battling his intrusive thoughts, the urge to set the cold, dark world on fire to keep his little lucky charm warm and safe. His heart swimming in the mush of feelings that he would melt into, once her words settled in, her concerns about him leaving, making him feel so valued, so important, so lucky.

5) The fifth time San had felt this innate feeling of luck consume him, was a moment he had dreaded for days before mustering up the courage to face it, one that he was so uncertain of, that if it weren't for the way their fingers were locked together and how she would gently squeeze his hand from time to time, he would've done two things; 1) Piss himself and 2) run away with his tale between his legs.

Perhaps because it was so uncalled for, so sudden that he could not prepare. Though he was never fun to be afraid of spontaneous situations unless those situations involved her. Much like any other day, everything went smoothly, everything had gone according to plan, almost everything. He had managed to ensure everyone would leave the dorm, thanks to Yunho's help, it was their 3rd month anniversary and even though she had insisted on not making a big deal out of it, San was hell-bent on making up for lost time, claiming he owed it to her.

Yunho had devised a simple plan, take everyone out for dinner and at that last moment, San could pull back with a fake tummy ache, giving him the privacy, he'd need for his little surprise for her. Simple. And for a while, he did think he would pull this off. He had managed to stay home, set up his room with candles, scattering rose petals across the room and set up the track to set the mood, all tips given by Yunho himself.

Now, he just had to wait, for he had already texted her to hurry to their dorm since he had managed to "hurt" himself. For a while, he waited patiently, until his anxiety started to kick in, especially when he realised, she had left his message on read.

He had been staring at the small coffee table, two plates neatly aligned at either side, but a purple velvet box in one. No, it wasn't anything big, he had just decided to get them something, she had once talked about couple bracelets and how she wondered why people get them. For him though, small gestures like these meant a lot, a true simp at heart. This "little gesture" was more than a mere accessory, it was a statement, of belonging to someone, of sharing a good portion of your heart with someone. To prove this, he had gotten them these, even if he couldn't wear it all the time, he'd keep it close to him, a small token representing his vast love for her.

He had been staring at the box when he heard a faint knock and the click door open. A second of panic flashed before his eyes, quickly bent down to fix the already properly placed items, turned around and rambled, "Y/N, h-hey, sorry for that message, I- I thought you weren't going to come because you're busy and…."

"Well, this seems…romantic."

"Hyung, I can explain."

What felt like an eternity later, the door slammed open and a smaller being stopped inside, the rustling of various paper bags accompanying her every stomp. Cradling the numerous bags in her arms, enough for them to block her line of sight, she reached his bed completely by muscle memory and dropped everything down on the bed, "Okay, next time you send me such a vague message I swear I'll block you" she began to pull out the contents of each bag, "I got medicine, for…everything, muscle, headache, backache, diarrhea and …constipation?" squinting at the small text she tossed the packet back on the bed and turned to see him on the sofa at the opposite end, completely focused on him and anything else in the room as she scurried to him, placing her hand on his sweaty forehead as he stared up at her silent, with eyes as wide as a cat caught at midnight.

"You're burning up- shit." pulling her hand back placed it on his dress shirt, noticing how he was wearing such a formal attire, with an ironed white dress shirt and slacks, "Sannie…do you usually dress like this when you have a fever?" she asked quickly undoing his tie, only for him to grip her wrists in the process, their eyes locked for a moment. She stared at him with confusion, only to finally notice the whirlpool of emotions swimming behind his orbs, an eerie feeling settling in the pit of her stomach, breaking eye contact he glanced sideways as if gesturing for her to look to her side.

If it weren't for how she would be transfixed on him, taking in his every gesture, reading him like her favourite book, morning, noon and night, she would've missed the little quiver of his bottom lip or the way his breathing had turned frantic and uneven. Turning her head to the side her gaze caught the reason of the current position of her boyfriend.

"Hongjoong."

"Y/N."

"How long… have you been…here?"

The man who was sitting cross-legged on the gaming chair shrugged at her before glaring at his bandmate who was now staring at the ground, somewhat afraid to make eye contact with his captain, only for her to step in front of him and block the view.

She stood there in front of him, hand on her hips, "Okay, what do you want?"

"Me?" he pointed at himself before gesturing to their surroundings, "Should I not be asking you the same thing?"

"Hyung it's not her fault- she didn't know- I…this was a surprise." he stood up, standing tall behind her, yet the fear of uncertainty painted all over his face. If Hongjoong wasn't in one of his moods, he would've found the scene to be extremely cute, with a giant man standing behind his best friend like that.

"What's with the table…" finally taking in the room she noticed the petals and the small table with silverware, a plate with a box, "Sannie, did you- wait, I didn't get you anything." she turned around frowning up at him, only for him to gaze down at her, in surprise. This was it, how she'd make it seem like no one else existed in the world but them, even at such a moment, she was more concerned about the lack of gift on her part.

"Excuse Me?! Sannie? " Hongjoong finally broke character, whining as he stood up and pointed at her, "How could you not tell me?!"

Turning her head to glance at him she snorted, "Seems to me you're the bad captain who didn't notice this" gesturing between herself and San, "has been going on for months."

"BAD CAPTAIN?" he yelled, now looking up at San, "You hid this from me too? Why? Do you think I would have disapproved, why would have I disapproved ??"

San nodded in return, not sure if he should confess, not sure if he should read out the list of insecurities and weaknesses that he held within. What if upon hearing the list he'd actually tell them to break it off, or worse, what if she leaves him?

Licking his chapped lips, he slowly nodded at Hongjoong, ready to give his little monologue, but the words caught in his throat when her fingers laced with his, he glanced at her to spot her smiling at him then turning to Hongjoong, "He didn't tell you because I told him not to, because you're a psycho."

"You know what." placing his hands on his hips he frowned at her, "I wouldn't have let my Sannie date you because you're insane!"

"YOU'RE SANNIE?"

"Well." smirking at her he glanced at San who was looking between the two who were arguing, "I did know him before you knew him."

"GET OUT!"

"This is my dorm."

"THIS IS MY BOYFRIEND'S ROOM."

"YOUR BOYFRIEND IS MY CLOSEST FRIEND AND COLLEGUE FIRST."

"I GOT US COUPLE BRACELETS" his interjection brought silence with it before Hongjoong chuckled and shook his head, walking out of the room, not after patting San's arm, leaving the two together.

Hearing the door shut he turned to her, placing his hands on her shoulders he smiled down at her, the same smile that would have her heart doing backflips, with his eyes turning into bright crescents and dimples adorning his cheeks, "Guess I can officially call you my lucky charm now, huh?"

"Ew, are you guys gonna do something weird now?"

Letting out a frustrated sigh, he let his hands fall off her waist, not before pecking her forehead. Turning to face the intruder with a fake smile, "Hey, hyung, what brings you here?"

"This one." he stated as a matter of fact, placing down a paper bag, "thought of making you a surprise birthday cake but forgot to get flour."

San chuckled, glancing at her who was whining and complaining, "Hongjoong for once can you not be yourself?"

"You mean be perfect?"

"Will you be staying for dinner hyung?" he stopped the two before they could begin arguing.

"I'd rather not, she'd poison my food." he snorted earning a very loud "I would have." from her, as he waved at them, making sure to lock the main door behind him, shoving the spare key back because pocket.

Alone once again, he smirked down at her, wrapping his arms around her waist, a hand grabbing a handful of her butt, squeezing it, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

In return, however, he received a kick on his shin causing him to bounce back, leaning down to rub the sore spot, "What was that for!?"

"For coming home early and giving that idiot the spare key to our apartment." she huffed walking past him and grabbing the flour, "Now go sit there like a good boy and let me bake for you."

Snorting he stood up straight, stretching his arms over his head to make him look even bigger, "My birthday was in July, you are aware of that right?"

"I know." sighing she cracked an egg, "But you were on tour and… I couldn't be with you, so I thought heck, why not just surprise you now…." grabbing another egg she stared at it, mumbling to herself as she pouted, "Guess I messed it up though…should've gotten everything earlier."

Her little sulk session was interrupted when he gently gripped her chin, turning her head to face him, tilting it up as he smiled down at her. If it weren't for his manly pride, the need of wanting to be tough and strong for her, he would've sobbed in pure joy. Little things like these, these gestures and ideas of hers always made his heart flutter, ever so caring for him, ever so present. He was glad she couldn't see through him, otherwise, she'd see how his heart had melted into a puddle of very gooey feelings, feelings for her.

"You never mess up, love" Leaning closer he brushed his lips over hers, his other hand reaching to grab hers, thumb brushing against the cool metallic bracelet she wore with pride, just like the one he'd wear when he'd feel it was safe enough to pass off as anything hut suspicious- though it never bothered her for she had told him how the thought of knowing both have one is enough for her.

"You're my lucky charm, remember?”

352 notes · View notes

redroomreflections · 1 month

Text

Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story Chapter 1

Natasha Romanoff x Black!Fem! Reader

Note: This is a repost from my since deactivated account Natsxaddiction. I will be adding the shorter stories to here; 20 chapters or less - sorry TLH fans =(

Chapter 1/20 (A completed story)

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Summary: Natasha and Reader are married. They get into an accident where Natasha suffers serious injuries including amnesia. Natasha no longer remembers her life with reader and their children. All she remembers are her days loving Bruce.

W/c: 4.2k

There was doubt in her face. You could see she didn’t trust you. As she blinked rapidly to adjust to the harsh lights of the hospital room you could tell something was wrong. Your heart ached at the way her hands gripped the ventilator down her throat. It’s been helping her breathe for this long. Her eyes widened in panic as she clutched at the offending object. You placed a hand on top of hers hoping your familiar touch would be calming. Instead, you saw her flinch as her eyes flew to yours. There was something there that you hadn’t seen in a long time, if ever. Natasha was scared. She was terrified even. She doesn’t know who you are.

“Natasha, baby, don’t rip it out.” You say softly to her despite the lump in your throat. She’s shaking. She stops to look at you for a second before attempting to remove the tube again. You sigh and press the call button for a nurse or doctor. Natasha shakes her head, her eyes pleading for you to help her, as she attempts again. There’s a panic rising between the both of you for many different reasons. She doesn’t know who you are or where she is. You are coming to the realization that your wife may not remember you. You’re going to need an explanation and fast.

There’s a knock on the door and then a nurse with a tight bun and scrubs is entering the room. She gives you a soft smile before it disappears. Natasha is awake. She’s awake and she’s scared. She walks over to the IV hooked up to Natasha’s hand and inspects it.

“Hello, Mrs. Romanoff, you’re in New York-Presbyterian Lower Manhattan, you were in an accident,” The older lady explains to Natasha. For a second Natasha relaxes before she glances at you. How does she know she could trust either of you? “You suffered from a few injuries. Nothing you won’t recover from. I know you want this out and the doctor will be able to do that later. Are you in pain?” Natasha hesitates like you know she will. You can see the imperceptible way her hand twitches. She nods reluctantly. The nurse, Alicia, nods and administers more of the pain medicine that would allow Natasha to sleep peacefully and pain-free. You both wait with bated breath for the redhead to relax. She finally does and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“She’ll be fine, Mrs. Romanoff,” Alicia pats your arm sympathetically. You nod. You’re not so sure if that’s true.

You don’t mention Natasha’s panic at seeing you. You don’t mention the distant look in her eyes when she looked at you. As if you’ve never met. As if she’s never loved you. The stinging tears it brings to your eyes make you wonder if it’s your mind playing tricks on you. When she wakes up later you’ll know the truth.

It’s been exactly a week since the accident. You remember it as if it were yesterday. An idiot drunk driver collided with your car on the passenger side. The one that Natasha was on. Your car was completely destroyed though you don’t really care. You could buy another one. You couldn’t get another wife. The woman lying before you was…is your everything. While you and the drunk driver left the accident with minor injuries Natasha wasn’t so lucky. She retained a traumatic head injury resulting in a coma, one fractured rib, and a broken wrist. Somehow you feel lucky that she even recovered.

You had been on your way to your daughter’s very first dance recital. It was her first recital before Thanksgiving break. You were running late, driving through the roads with care, but still excited to see your baby girl dance. Natasha was buzzing with excitement and pride as she toyed with the radio from her seat. She was a bit annoyed by your tardiness but hadn’t said as much. Nothing could ruin the night, well except almost dying in a car accident. One that’s seemingly changed your life forever. Now you’re here in a hospital room with your wife asleep in a bed not knowing what will happen next.

You pull your phone from your pocket to send Melina another text. She and Alexei are keeping the girls for you. They’re Natasha’s parents that she gained from her mission from The Red Room. You let her know Natasha woke up. She replies with praise before telling you they will come to see you both as soon as they can. The girls miss their Mama just as much as you’ve missed your wife. This past week has been hell. No one knew when Natasha would wake up. If she would wake up.

You could only hope to move past this now that she has.

You tuck your phone back into your pocket and pray that Natasha wakes up again.

*****************

You don’t realize you’ve fallen asleep until you hear the rustling of the bed. Natasha’s awake. Your eyes snap open to watch her. She struggles for a bit before dropping her hands against the bed. She’s given up on trying to take the tube out though you’re sure she could if she truly wanted. You lean over to put yourself in her line of eyesight.

“Natasha,” Green eyes meet yours. She furrows a brow. She clearly wants to ask you something. “Hey, I don’t know how much you remember about what the nurse told you but you’re in the hospital.” You gently tell her about what’s happened to her. She listens with rapt attention before her eyes scan the room. She lifts her uninjured hand to scratch at the tube before she drops it again. Her red-painted nails press firmly against the sheets. “I can call someone to take it out for you.” You don’t wait for an answer, not that she can. You grab the call button to press it. “Someone will be here soon.” You sit in silence until Alicia makes her appearance again.

Alicia slowly helps Natasha to remove the ventilator. Your eyes fly to the ground to avoid seeing her in so much pain. You can hear the small grunt of pain she emits though Natasha quickly tries to hide it. You glance up again to find that Alicia is putting Natasha through a swallowing evaluation. The water that’s been waiting by her bedside is given to her. Natasha swallows harshly before sitting back against the raised bed.

“Where’s everyone?” Natasha rasps. She clutches her throat again before looking around.

“Your throat may be a little raw, take it easy,” Alicia explains. “Your wife would be happy to tell you where everyone is. She hasn’t left your side this entire time.” Natasha glances at you. She’s sporting a look of confusion.

“Wife?” That one seriously hurts and she looks to the nurse for assistance. “I’m not married. Whatever sick joke this is I will find out.” There’s an edge in her tone. She’s almost menacing. “Who sent you?” Her next words are directed towards you. You’re aware she’s fighting the pain in her throat to ask you this.

“No one sent me, Natasha.” You say firmly. “I’m here because I want to be. I’m here because I’m your wife.” Natasha shakes her head. You raise your hand to place it over hers and she snatches it away as if she’s been burned.

“Where’s Bruce?” She asks. Bruce? You haven’t seen that man in years. Why was she asking about him? “Where’s Steve? Who. Sent. You?” She asks again. She’s not buying anything you’re telling her.

“Natasha-”

“How about we give Mrs- Ms. Romanoff a minute,” Alicia suggests. Something angers you about the slip-up. She’s asking you to leave the room. It’s clear Natasha needs a minute and as much as you’d like to stay you know you need one too. “I’ll be out there soon to talk to you.” You nod dejectedly. You rush out of the room to throw yourself against the wall. Your breaths come harsher as you try to figure out what that was in there. The look in her eyes. The way she talked to you. You’re almost sure if she had one there would be a knife to your throat.

You’re just about to send a message to Melina to tell her not to bring the kids today when Alicia interrupts you. You put your phone away before you can finish the message.

“It seems that Mrs. Romanoff doesn’t remember a few key details about herself,” Alicia informs you. “I’m going to have to call Dr. Brent in here to assess her further.”

“Does she have amnesia or something?” You question. Alicia frowns.

“I can’t really say but it may appear so.” She can see the scared look on your face. What would that mean for you? What would that mean for Natasha? For the girls? You let out another harsh breath.

You can tell Alicia wants to comfort you but you barely know her. Her job extends to Natasha’s care and she’s done that and more. You thank her. You wait for her to walk away before turning back to Natasha’s room. The doctor would be here as soon as he could. In the meantime, you have to try and deal with things.

You prepare yourself with a deep breath and a shake of your hands to rid yourself of the nerves. You almost felt ridiculous. This was your wife for goodness sake. The one you’ve spent six and a half happy years with. You knock gently, deciding against barging in when you’re surprised by the sight in front of you. Natasha is standing from the bed, and clearly in pain, searching for her clothes.

“Nat, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” You say. She doesn’t even bat an eye as she continues to put on her pants. You’re not sure how she’s even found them but that doesn’t matter now. You step a bit closer to her, bracing your hand behind her back in case she falls, and again you plead for her to sit down. “Natasha, you’re hurt.” You tell her.

“It would be better for you to let me leave now before the team finds you,” Natasha mutters. She’s in such a different headspace. One she hasn’t been in for a while and you’re a bit unsure how to get through to her thick head. Something angers you about the way she winces when she tugs the pants onto her hips. Her ribs haven’t healed yet and she shouldn’t be walking until the doctor assesses her.

“Natalia, sit down now.” Your voice is low and firm. It’s one you’ve only ever reserved for the bedroom but at this moment you know it’s gotten to her. She pauses to look over at you. You used her birth name. She eyes you and for a moment you think she’s going to listen.

“Who do you think you are?” She frowns.

“Your god damned wife, Natasha.” You say exasperatedly. Before she can protest you continue. “I’m not some spy sent to kill you. I’m not a member of the Red Room and I’m not working against you. I’m an Avenger. I’ve seen you through your worst and dammit it may be worse than this if you don’t sit down and allow your ribs to heal.” Natasha blinks slowly. You’re prepared to fight her on this. She sits slowly and you can see the pain etched across her features. There’s something akin to regret on her face as she tries to shift into a comfortable position. You move towards her without realizing it as your hands grip her hips to help her onto the bed. She doesn’t push you away this time but you can feel how she tenses under your fingers.

You move back to find she’s eyeing you questioningly.

“You don’t have to believe me but please, don’t hurt yourself trying to run away.” She’s shocked now. “I can call Tony or Steve if you want and they can come here.” You try again.

“And Bruce?” She asks quietly. You’d left his name out on purpose.

“And Bruce.” You sigh. You’re not really going to call him but you needed her to calm down.

Natasha’s forest-green eyes scan your face. She’s trying to remember you. She can’t and she’s frustrated by this. Despite your firmness, you’re being kind to her. She doesn’t know your angle or motive. You don’t move as she continues to rack her brain for memories of you. It’s painful to see that she can’t find a single one.

There’s another knock at the door that breaks her from her trance. Both of you turn to look at Dr. Brent as he enters. He’s 6’2, blonde, and blue eyes rivaling McDreamy’s. He comes into the room with a soft smile.

“Hello, Natasha, I’m Dr. Brent I’ve been the one looking over your case for the past week,” He introduces himself to her. “I am under the impression that you’re a bit unclear about what’s happened?”

“Bingo,” Natasha quips and you resist the urge to snort. Despite the situation, she’s resorting to her usual sarcastic nature.

“Okay, I’m going to run a series of tests to assess the situation for an answer.” He says. He puts on gloves and steps over to the opposite side of Natasha. You move to hold her hand only to stop yourself. Natasha hates doctors and needles and pretty much anything to do with hospitals. You know how stressful it can be for her but you’re not sure if you should touch her. You’re afraid of setting her off.

He assesses Natasha’s pupils, her heart rate, her ability to remember commonly known facts. When he asks her to repeat a series of words he asked her minutes ago she does so with a hint of boredom. You watch in trepidation as he moves on to asking her about the last thing she remembers.

“It was during Ultron,” Natasha says. “Some robot Tony created went rogue so we needed to hide out.” She’s keeping out a few key details.

You know from the times she’s told you that she and the rest of the OG members took cover at Clint’s farmhouse. It was there she also suggested to Bruce that they run away together. It wasn’t her finest moment though you doubt she thinks that now. Dr. Brent takes down a few notes and promises to take a look over her brain scans.

“What does it look like doctor?”

Dr. Brent glances at Natasha.

“Don’t hold back, Doc, she’s my wife, remember. Anything you say in front of her you can say in front of me.” You don’t like the way Natasha throws out that line so easily. Like she doesn’t believe it. Like she doesn’t care about your feelings at all. To her, she doesn’t.

“It looks like a form of retrograde amnesia. Usually this type is when you can recall recent events and not things from years ago. For Natasha, it seems that she can’t remember her life from the past few years at all. Her recent is not as we think.” He explains. Natasha frowns. She doesn’t believe any of this that’s going on.

“And when would she get her memories back?” You ask. You’re afraid of the answer.

“Only time will tell.” Dr. Brent informs you. “There is no cure. As her brain heals there may be memories that come back piece by piece or she may not get them back at all. What we can do is be patient. Remind her of the time, date, and place. Treat her with kindness.” You nod. You could do that.

“When can I go home?” Natasha asks loudly.

“Once we’re done running the tests I see no reason why you can’t go home in the next few days. For now, we need you to sit tight and allow your body to heal.”

Natasha Romanoff sitting tight? Ha! Natasha was a busy body. She was always on even when you weren’t. She rarely allowed herself to recover from her injuries and you’re sure this won’t be any different.

“Thank you, Doctor.” You say. This would certainly be a trying task.

The Doctor finishes up a few more tests with a promise to come back later to check up on both of you.

“Are you hungry?” You ask her. Natasha’s pout and folded arms don’t hide the fact that she wants to say yes. She shakes her head no. “Can you bring up the lunch meal?” You direct your question to Alicia. She nods and quickly exits the room. There’s a silence between the two of you. Natasha is watching the exit closely while you watch her. You’re not really sure what to do or say.

“You must be curious.” You break the silence.

“About?” Natasha tilts her head.

“Everything,” You wipe your sweaty palms against the fabric of your jeans. Natasha’s eyes rake your body in interest. Amnesia or not she’s attracted to you.

Natasha opens her mouth to speak but is interrupted by a swing of the door opening. You curse at the lost opportunity of her opening up. You panic when you realize exactly who has interrupted. All you see is a flash of brown hair as they whip past you. Before you can stop her, your daughter is climbing onto the bed to settle on Natasha’s lap.

“Mama!” Olivia cheers. She bounces in place as she inspects Natasha. “You’re not sleeping anymore.” Olivia smiles.

“Mama! Mama! Up.” The other little one is not too far behind as she walks into the room with Melina and Alexei hot on her heels. She races to the other side of the bed, raising her arms towards Natasha, and looks up at her expectantly. You can see the rising panic in the other woman as she places her hands against her chest to keep from touching Olivia. You don’t know if it’s more distressing for her to see her parents or her children. You choose to diffuse one situation before the other.

“We’re very sorry, Y/n, we tried to call you before but they were so excited to hear that she was awake.” Melina has the decency to look guilty.

“Why isn’t she talking?” Olivia asks. Her big brown eyes blink up at you. Natasha opens and closes her mouth like a fish out of water. You move swiftly to remove her from Natasha’s lap to place her on her own two feet.

“Liv, remember how Mama was hurt in the crash and she hit her head?” You kneel to be on her level. Olivia nods glancing at Natasha. “Well, she still has to get better so we need to give her a bit more time. I know you and Lily are excited to see her but it’s still a bit much for her.”

Olivia may be young but she’s not stupid. She nods dejectedly. She knows this means they would have to leave. You can see her bottom lip tremble as tears threaten to fall.

“Hey, hey, little mouse, it’s going to be just fine, we just need to give Mama some time.”

“But I miss her,” Olivia frowns. There’s going to be a lot of tears if you don’t think fast.

“They can stay,” Natasha is the voice to speak. You give her a surprised look before she nods. You thank her silently before turning back to Olivia.

“Mama says you can stay but you have to be gentle.” You tug a still excited Lily into your embrace so that she’s aware of what you’re saying. You move your hands in a series of motions. She still has a pacifier pressed into her mouth but she says a meek yes around it.

“They need to leave,” Natasha says. She says it with such finality. She’s referring to Melina and Alexei. You look over to them apologetically and Melina raises a hand. She knows it’s not the time to be pleading her case with Natasha. Not when she’s this delicate.

“I’ll bring them out to you when we’re done.” You inform them. They nod and leave the room.

Olivia turns back to Natasha. This time unsure of herself. Your heart breaks as you realize she doesn’t know what to do. Natasha has never reacted to them in this way. Everything is riding on her as she looks over to the girls.

“You can climb up here, Myshka.” Natasha encourages her. She’s caught onto the nickname you used for the little girl. Olivia looks to you for reassurance. You give her a nod. She slowly climbs into the bed and settles on Natasha’s side. Natasha is a bit out of her element but she doesn’t flinch away this time.

“Mama, you’re okay?” Olivia asks.

“I’m okay,” Natasha confirms. She’s a natural actress and can put on a front for the kids. Even if she doesn’t remember them she doesn’t want to hurt them.

“I thought you died and left us,” Olivia says. Natasha looks to you for help.

“Mama is fine,” You assure her. Olivia fiddles with her fingers before looking her over again.

“When can you come home?”

“After the doctor has checked her,” You say.

“Mama,” Lily whines from your arms. She gives you the sign for ‘want’ before stretching her arms out for Natasha. Natasha opens her arms and allows Lily to fall into them. She brushes a hand over her curls, exposing the cochlear implant, she inspects it before looking at you. You’ll explain it to her later. Lily settles in her arms happily. If Natasha is feeling any pain she hides it so she doesn’t startle them.

“We drew pictures for you,” Olivia informs her. “And we also stayed with Nana and Pop-Pop.” She begins to tell Natasha about her entire week. Natasha listens with rapt attention. Though she doesn’t remember them her motherly instinct is strong. It has always been.

“Oh yeah?” Natasha asks. She’s genuinely interested in what the little girl has to say. She’s somehow multitasking as she listens to Olivia while keeping Lily from pulling at the fabric of her gown. You cringe. In your haste to get them to settle for her, you weren’t expecting this. Lily is asking to nurse. Something you’re one hundred percent sure Natasha isn’t comfortable with. Natasha catches on, redirecting Lily’s tiny hand into her own.

Lily sighs, clearly frustrated, but resigns to laying her head against Natasha’s chest. It’s another hour before they fall asleep in her arms. Natasha hasn’t moved an inch since then. You’re sure this can’t be comfortable.

“Is it true?” Natasha asks. She sounds different. Not like earlier. She’s afraid of the answer. She wants to believe that the little girls in her arms are hers.

“Yes,” You confirm. “They’re yours. Ours.” You correct yourself.

She’s afraid to ask the next question but she finds her voice.

“How?”

“A human trafficking bust in Brazil,” You start. “It had been going on for years until we got to them. The only reason we were asked to step in was that the facility somehow kept going under the radar for S.H.I.E.L.D. They were using the kids for experiments and pretty much everything else.” You know she’ll understand the implications of that. You clear your throat. “Their mother, she was seventeen, had just given birth to Lily, and was holding onto a starving Olivia when you found her. It’s why she’s still so small.” Natasha brushes her fingers across Olivia’s now chubby cheeks. Olivia’s eyelashes flutter but she never opens her eyes. “You tried to save her too but she died before we could get her to a hospital. All of the other children were saved but you wouldn’t let go of these two. Lily was just a few days old and Olivia was just shy of her second birthday. You pleaded with me to keep them and we signed the adoption papers as soon as we could.” Natasha raises her head for the first time. Throughout the entire story, she’s been staring at them in awe. Like she doesn’t believe it.

“We found out Lily suffered from severe hearing loss due to an infection.” Natasha glances at her ears. “ I know it’s a lot to take in but I’m not lying to you. I wouldn’t. Not about this.” Her eyes shone with unshed tears that she quickly tried to hide.

“How old are they now?” She finds herself asking.

“Olivia is three almost four and Lily is eighteen months.” You inform her. They’re so young and not understanding of their world yet. Not understanding the gravity of Natasha’s amnesia.

“I don’t remember.” She frowns. “I don’t remember any of it.” She’s becoming upset.

“Nat, it’s okay, we can figure it out.” You try to keep her calm. “We can figure it out just please bear with me.” You plead for her. “You don’t have to believe I’m your wife. You don’t have to believe that any of this is real. Just don’t run away. Don’t hide.” Don’t try to find Bruce you want to add but you keep it to yourself. She nods tiredly.

“Melina and Alexei are here,” She says suddenly.

“They are,” You reply.

“I haven’t seen them since I was eleven years old,” Natasha whispers brokenly. She looks down at the girls sleeping peacefully in her arms. You say nothing. “I’m not leaving them.” She says resolutely.

You believe her. What does this mean for the future?

next part

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #black widow x female reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanov #natasha x you #black reader

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blueepink07 · 6 months

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Since we will get Kotoko's album in one day, which includes her VD from which most probably we will find more information about her motivations and her plans in Milgram, I decided to look a bit into her attacks during prison and how I imagine things happened! (I'm fully aware that I will most probably be proved wrong when the album drops, but I'm really curious if I can actually figure out most of what happened!)

Starting off, Jackalope informs us that the order in which Kotoko attacked is: Mikoto, Mahiru, Fuuta.

Which makes sense, considering that she attacked, in order, who is closer to her cell.

(Also fun fact! The prisoners are distorted according to how many injuries they have!)

What I want to answer, however, is how she managed to attack two people without being stopped.

Mikoto vs Kotoko

From Mikoto's VD, we find out that Kotoko has attacked, while John was distracted, giving herself a slight advantage.

"Es: Like you didn’t get beaten by Kotoko…! John: Hah. That was just because she caught me off guard. We went at it again while you were asleep, and it’s not like I lost there."

Considering that they fought some time and where evenly matched, there must have been a lot of noise, which should have alerted the others. In this attack, Kotoko didn't care much about how much attention she would attract. Why? Because the prisoners were already used with John's restlessness and they wouldn't dare to go near him. Hearing those noises didn't alert them much, because they maybe were too scared and didn't want to approach or thought it was just the usual.

As seen in many timeline posts, Mikoto is avoided. The only one who wished him Happy birthday was Haruka, whom we know that is currently isolating himself and didn't wish Mikoto a happy birthday this year too...

"Mikoto: The others told me about it. How I got into a fistfight with Koto-chan and whatnot. "Es: Seems like it, yeah. Mikoto: I wonder if it’s like… some kind of sleepwalking…? After all, I’ve been losing sleep more and more often recently… Man… It’s really troublesome, isn’t it? Es: Mikoto… Mikoto: The others are all scared of me. I can tell by looking at the way they act. Because I read the room."

Mahiru and Kotoko

From Shidou's VD, it is given the information that Mahiru suffered head injuries, more exactly head lacerations.

"Shidou: Shiina-kun’s is even worse. Head lacerations. Bruising all over her body. Left anterior compression fracture. A sprained neck. Fractured ribs. Further fracturing to the left arm. And furthermore… this may be outside of my profession, but her mental health is deteriorating as well."

These injuries are the aftermath of being hit by Kotoko.

Mahiru says some interesting things in her VD:

"Mahiru: … Ah, but this is… I think Kotoko-chan is the one who did it, so… you know? It’s not like it’s your fault. Um, so…! I’m not holding a grudge towards Kotoko-chan either. I’m sure she just thought it couldn’t be helped…"

This "I think" was always interesting to me. It implies that she is uncertain of the events that happened, like she wasn't there... Like she just a heard rumour from someone else...

However, she also tells this:

"Mahiru: … Ah– I– I—I’m sorry…! If– If you touch me so suddenly, it makes me remember… how it hurt… and I get scared…"

She remembers the pain, but not the person who hurt her. Keeping in mind that she also suffered from head trauma, I have thought that Mahiru must have lost consciousness, shortly after being hit, but not fully.

There are actually some levels of impaired consciousness, that can explain my assumption!

Confusion

Confusion is marked by the absence of clear thinking and may result in poor decision-making.

Disorientation

Disorientation is the inability to understand how you relate to people, places, objects, and time. The first stage of disorientation is usually around awareness of your current surroundings

Loss of short-term memory follows disorientation with respect to place.

Delirium

If you’re delirious, your thoughts are confused and illogical. People who are delirious are often disoriented. Their emotional responses range from fear to anger. People who are delirious are often highly agitated as well.

Lethargy

Lethargy is a state of decreased consciousness that resembles drowsiness. If you’re lethargic, you may not respond to stimulants such as the sound of an alarm clock or the presence of fire.

Stupor

"Stupor is a deeper level of impaired consciousness in which it’s very difficult for you to respond to any stimuli, except for pain."

Coma

Coma is the deepest level of impaired consciousness. If you’re in a coma, you can’t respond to any stimulus, not even pain.

From all of these, stupor seems to be what Mahiru experienced after being hit.

Stupor -> caused by head injuries, such as concussion or bleeding in or around the brain

"Stupor is characterised by impaired reaction to external stimuli. Those in a stuporous state are rigid, mute and only appear to be conscious, as the eyes are open and follow surrounding objects. If not stimulated externally, a patient with stupor will appear to be in a sleepy state most of the time."

If Kotoko hit Mahiru and caused her to have a stupor, Mahiru wouldn't even have the chance to yell or cry for help. She couldn't respond to any stimulus (sight, sound, smell, taste and touch), the only thing that she could feel was the pain.

It would make sense, in this case, for the other prisoners to be unaware of what was happening to Mahiru. Kotoko most probably made a surprise attack (as in John's situation), left Mahiru is a state of stupor and did further damage to her body.

"Kazui: I wonder. Maybe it’s because I’m used to violence. Even so… I couldn’t make it for Shiina-chan. I feel responsible for [what happened to] her."

Fuuta and Kotoko

Fuuta seems to have been fully conscious when he was being beaten up by Kotoko. He remembers every detail, unfortunately to him: the way he had been stepped on with the safety boot-like shoes, the beatings which made him think that he'll die. He even remembers Kotoko's motivations and beliefs! It's pretty likely that he was still conscious when Kazui protected him.

"Fuuta: Hey. Look at me. My right eye. It looks awful, doesn’t it? This is what happens when you get stepped on with those safety boot-like shoes. – Don’t recoil like that, that’s hurtful. According to Shidou, it’s likely that I won’t ever be able to see [with this eye] again. Sucks, huh."

"Fuuta: It hurt… It hurt so bad, I thought I was going to die. I was scared!"

"Fuuta: I mean, you forgave Kotoko, right? You affirmed her, right? Her belief that “it’s fine to do whatever to people who have done something wrong”. Es: How do you know about that…? Fuuta: She told me while she was beating me up. How she thinks it’s okay for her to do anything she wants to people who have done wrong, no matter the severity of their crime. And she left the judgment of that up to you."

What are your thoughts about Kotoko's attacks?

If Fuuta was conscious the whole time, his cries of pain or help surely must have been what alerted the other prisoners, who stopped Kotoko from doing further damage...

And so this is me trying to explain why the other prisoners noticed too late Kotoko's attacks!

I'm prepared to be proved wrong, but it was fun to write anyway!

#milgram #milgram theory #milgram kotoko #kotoko yuzuriha #milgram mahiru #mahiru shiina #mikoto kayano #milgram mikoto #milgram fuuta #fuuta kajiyama

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killthewhisperingart · 5 months

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"It's Cold Without You"

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x reader

Word Count: 2,452

Summary: A perfect description of your psyche while your husband is gone, would be the color blue. When he leaves, he takes the warmth with him, dragging the color orange behind himself, only bringing it and the sunrise upon his return.

Warning(s): Angst and descriptive thoughts of anxiety and death

A/N: It's a little abrupt, but I really wanted to post something. And I also wanted to express a specific energy (my requests r still open)

I am an 18+ Blog.

The house is cold. Maybe it's the slow approach of Winter, or the fact that the heater was busted and you refused to call someone to fix it. But the house wasn't as warm as it usually was. You stopped using the lamps with yellow bulbs, instead opting for either the blinding overhead light, or no light at all. The curtains were perpetually drawn, closing your bedroom off from the world outside, closing you off from the world outside.

Everyday is the same thing on repeat, go to work only to return home. But no matter where you are, you're always miserable. When you're at work you want nothing more than to be at home, wrapped in a blanket of silence and warmth. Though, when you're at your house, you feel lonelier than ever, longing for the human connection of your job and coworkers.

It isn't always like this, the chill in the air. The chill that settles so deeply within your bones your teeth chatter, it isn't typically present. And you know why it's here, but admitting it feels colder than the wind that hits you harshly when you walk outside. Saying it out loud, or even thinking about it for too long makes you feel... shitty, for lack of a better word to describe yourself in your head.

You don't tell him the problems you're having. You especially would never tell him why you are having these issues. Because you know him, inside and out, and you know he'll feel guilty. But you also know yourself well enough to be aware of the fact he knows you just the same. He would so easily see through the facade you have created, look through the walls you've built up as if they were a window pane. This is why you've been dodging his calls, and why he currently thinks you are sick with the flu.

You simply wait, counting the days until he's home, begging time will move faster. And while you lay in bed alone, ponder on the idea that perhaps you're wasting your life. You know it's pathetic, the fact your existence is dependent on the presence of your husband. And you feel horrible, the codependency clawing its way up your throat. It's even worse when you remember you haven't always felt this way, and you don't know what's changed. You don't know why you can't seem to act like yourself when he's gone.

Well, perhaps you do know. You just don't want to admit it. You don't want to admit that you're terrified. You don't want to admit that every time he comes home complaining of a new ailment due to a painful ejection, you get nervous. That every call from one of his superiors, or even one of his colleagues, you have a shock of terror that has your heart beating out of your chest. That you only ever feel comfortable knowing he's alive when he's next to you.

When he's home, it's different. He doesn't realize he does it, but he chases the chill away. The nervousness that wraps itself around your ribs, squeezing until your heart constricts, it lessens. You find yourself distracted by the feeling of his hands on your hips, the pressure of his kisses against your skull, that it all disappears for a moment. But you know, as your ear presses against his chest at night, listening to him breathe, that the problem is still present.

"How do you feel about kids?" He asks one day, standing behind you as you analyze the paint samples for the bathroom after it's remodeling.

And your heart sinks, because you don't know. You don't know if you'd be able to handle a baby with him, let alone when he leaves. How would you be able to calm a crying baby when you consider yourself one when he's gone?

How would you be able to handle his death...?

You think about it a lot. The idea that he will fall to his demise the same way his father did, leaving the same trauma his dad left him, on the child you two have. But you don't know if you're as strong as Carole Bradshaw. You never considered yourself a weak person, but that's what he does. Bradley makes you weak, and you don't know if you'd survive his death. If you'd be able to go on with your life, go back to normal. You don't know if you'd be able to handle your own grief, not to mention teaching your child how to do so.

You don't give him an answer that day, and he lets it go. He's good at that; letting go. It was always something you admired about him, his ability to let things slide over him, continuing on easily. The only exception he had ever displayed, was his attitude towards Pete Mitchel, never letting that go. And you can't help but wonder if you'd do the same thing to your child. Would you hold them back? Perhaps beg Jake Seresin to pull your own sons papers because you'd be so blinded by the grief for Bradley, that you'd stop your own child from achieving his dream as well.

Today is a day like any other, the calendar is marked with a bright red heart exactly six days from now. You tell yourself the house will be clean three days prior to his arrival, and the Bronco will be washed the day before, and you will be presentable the day of. But for now, you hide within the comforter that his smell still lingers on. You've taken the week off, avoiding your job with a simple call that ends with a cough you and your manager know is fake.

Bradley is never early. He's a punctual man. He's never late either. He has a talent of showing up to things at the exact time as expected. And you adore this about him, because you're never nervous about when he'll show up. After ten years together, why would you ever think that would change?

He notices the house is darker and colder than normal. He softly drops his duffel by the door, removing his boots slowly before treading towards the lamp in the living room. And the home looks eerily different. He knows you're sick right now, but he questions the extent of it as he takes in the mess.

Almost all of the dishes are piled in the sink, definitely not the amount someone who has been sick for a little over a week would use in that time. His eyes move from the dishes to the rest of the counter, where mail is scattered. He removes himself from the room, drifting into the laundry room where what can only be your entire wardrobe laying haphazardly in front of the washing machine.

It's not that Bradley ever expected you to be the sole proprietor of the household chores, typically every task being traded between the two of you. But this was clearly out of character for you. He always came home to a spotless house, something he dearly appreciated. Internally he wonders if it's his fault, for coming home too early, but he can't help but be concerned.

His chest constricts when he walks into your shared bedroom to find you, curled into the fetal position sleeping. You look exhausted, even though you're sleeping. For a moment he forgets all about the fact that his back hurts, or the fact he's been wanting to sleep in his own bed for almost two months. All he can think of is you.

"Baby," He whispers, a hand softly against your shoulder. "Honey?"

You awake with a sharp intake of breath, heart beating out of your chest in a panic. Realizing it is your husband and not in fact a murderer, does little to quell your anxieties.

"Bradley?" You blurt, springing up. "What are you doing here? It's not the twelfth is it?" You go to reach for your phone, frustration leaking through your voice. "What are you doing home?"

"I came home early," He exhales, brows knitted in concern as you rush around the room. You're clearly distressed, pacing before you finally stop and run your hands down your face.

"Why?" You dare to ask, voice warbling against your will. "Why are you home early?"

"You sounded like you were really sick, and it was only six days-" He clenches his eyes shut before looking at you with his sad eyes. "What's wrong?"

"You aren't supposed to be home yet." You whisper, crossing your arms. Your face crumbles as you remember the state of the house, the state of yourself.

"Baby if you've been sick longer than you told me, we can go to the hospital," He stands up, stepping towards you. "Something can really be wrong-"

"You're not supposed to be home," You repeat, turning it into a mantra under your breath as you cover your eyes. You can feel the slow burn as tears erupt from your eyes, strong emotions wrapping themselves around you like an octopus around a crab. Faintly, you can feel Bradley's hands touch your shoulders, and the way he rubs up and down doesn't feel the way it normally does. His touch burns your skin, itchy and irritating in a way that makes you want to cry harder.

"Will you let me take you to the doctor?"

"Will you shut up about the hospital?" You hiss, your frustration coming to head as you explode. His hands pull away as you look at him with such venom on your tongue, you can taste it. "God! Why are you home?"

His face twists in confusion, then to his own form of irritation matching yours. He doesn't understand, and typically you'd feel bad because it isn't his fault. But he wasn't supposed to be home yet.

"I don't understand." His mouth is slightly agape as he exhales. "I thought you were sick, you weren't answering my calls, you haven't been to work in two weeks-"

"You called my job?"

"I was worried!" He shouts, and you feel itchy again. "I was worried about you! And evidently I needed to be because the house is a mess-"

This strikes a chord within you. The house is yours. Bradley and you share ownership of it, you bought it together, decorated it together, but it's your domain. Every detail is finalized by you, from the color of the floors to the oven you own. It's yours. And it hurts that he points out how you've mistreated it. It hurts on a deeper level that he thinks this. No matter how much you know it's true.

"Don't you dare talk to me about my house." You can hold yourself back, snapping back at him.

"It's a fucking mess!" He points out, and you know. You know it's true. "It's never like this so clearly something is wrong and I'm worried about you!" You don't know what to do, because you had everything planned out, you knew when things were going to be put back-

And he's home early.

You prided yourself on being able to hide this part of your life from him. Being able to disguise your pain behind a mask of stability, pretending nothing had changed. That you hadn't changed. But now that's all gone. He's taken a peak behind the curtain and now the entire illusion falls apart, like ashes between your fingers.

"I just want you to tell me what's wrong." His voice is lower now, and he knows you're avoiding eye contact. "You've been pulling away, and I'm worried."

You can't bring yourself to lift your eyes from the floor to his face, where you know his eyes are bright regardless of the hurt that paints them.

"Is it me?" He asks, bending slightly to try and put his eyes in your line of sight. "Do you not want me anymore? Us?"

"No-" You can see his heart break in his eyes as you look up. "It's not that. No, Bradley, it's not that." You step closer, harshly laughing at yourself. "It's the opposite."

"I don't understand, honey."

"I love you." You whisper, feeling warmer now as his hands slide to your hips. "I love you so much, there's no one else in the world I'd even consider replacing you with. And I can't imagine my life without you."

He watches you apprehensively, eyes darting to your hands and back up to your eyes.

"I'm scared." You finally let it slip, soft like a prayer, quiet like a secret. He tilts his head slightly, practically begging you to elaborate. "I'm scared, when you leave the house for work in the morning. I'm scared when you go on missions-" your voice cracks harshly. "My heart drops every time Mav calls me instead of you, and when someone knocks on the door."

"I don't..."

"I'm scared that you're going to die soon." You blurt, not missing the way his eyes widen.

"Baby, I'm not going to die-"

"Do you think Goose told Carole that?" You ask, knowing you're crossing a line. Tears blur your vision. "You can't tell me you aren't going to die because you are, and there's nothing I can do to stop it-"

The hug is abrupt, your face being pushed into his neck and your bodies close. You feel nothing other than Bradley, and you can't even bring yourself to apologize as your hot tears drip onto his skin and inevitably his shirt. Your fingers tighten around his back, desperate to have him closer because you don't think he'll ever be close enough unless you're beneath his skin.

You know this conversation isn't done, it's not tied neatly with a bow on top. You know there's an entire can of worms that inevitably will be opened. But for a moment you feel warm again. Heat bubbles beneath your skin, rumbling through your chest as you feel his heart beating against your chest. Reds and oranges fly behind your eyelids in a way that has you breathing easier.

As he silently pulls the both of you to the bed, he hugs you a bit tighter. The smell of him surrounds you in a thick layer, your skin buzzing beneath the feeling of his lips against your forehead. You whine as he pulls away, tucking you in like you're a child.

"We're not done talking about this." He whispers, looking down at you with his sorrowful eyes. "Not even close to being done talking about this."

"Okay," You say softly back, agreeing.

"But you should get some sleep," He advises with a crooked smile. "I'll be here when you wake up."

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #top gun x reader #writing #top gun angst #top gun maverick #top gun maverick x reader #tgm fanfiction #tgm fic #tgm x reader #x reader #x reader angst

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honey-minded-hivemind · 3 months

Note

X Men Animated Yandere Sabertooth and Wolverine meeting a child who was created using both of their DNA

Ohoho, yes! I love those two! I write them as brothers, so I'll be careful in how the DNA thing works. That being said, we'll go with this:

Trying to knock sense into his brother was like trying to knock sense into a boulder.

Hard, rough, full of broken bones, and painful.

The b*stards at Weapon X had erased anything, everything, all of their past together, everything that had ever mattered from his runt's mind, and then had the audacity to use him as a weapon. Use BOTH of them as weapons. Forcing them to kill, to tear apart, to sabotage-

All because they were mutants.

And humans hated mutants, no matter what.

He killed them, the ones who did this to them. That still didn't fix things, though. He did fix quite a few of them up, though. Fixed them right into dinner. Into trophies. Into minced meat and bloodied bones.

That being done and over with-

He didn't expect to find a kid who was more or less a mixed clone- sibling- something, of the two of them...

Logan had done what he could throughout the years, trying to find his identity, his past, his lost loves...

Sadly, that past was full of hurting, hurting of him, hurting of others, and somehow, someway, Sabretooth always seemed to be nearby. Watching. Waiting. Pouncing. One of the few people anything like him, and the guy's a full-on nut-case.

Just peachy.

But he at least did his best to do good. Creed, he couldn't say that, could he?

But apparently this new bad wasn't his fault.

It wasn't his, either.

Who woulda thought the sickos who ran Weapon X would have made a kid?

Who would have thought that kid would have had parts of both their DNA, making them a clone of sorts, if not their own sibling.

The two can't stand knowing they have a mini other running about, one who has every flaw and nature that they have. Who is only a cub, a pup, nothing more than a kit trying to survive in a world too hateful to love 'em...

Course, they plan to fix that.

If they could just keep the kid away from the other feral-

"Back off, Creed!" Wolverine growls, unsheathing his claws as he faces off against the larger feral, who only growls back.

"Stay outta the way, runt. They're just as much my sibling as yours," he purr-growls, slowly moving in.

The two of them know Reader is watching them from their hiding place in the trees, eyeing them carefully.

This battle isn't about lost brotherhood or vengeance. This is about custody rights to the newest feral, THEIR own flesh and blood.

The moment their claws cross, the kit is scrambling through the high-up branches, looking for a way to avoid them as they tussle across the icy dirt, rocks and pine needles scattering in their wake. Sabretooth winds up on top, his knee pressed into his younger brother's ribs, the weight causing them to creak.

"Get off!" Logan hisses, struggling under the force, only to be met with a tut.

"Now now, Jimmy... That's no way ta talk ta yer older brother... Now, calm down. 'M not gonna keep the cub away from ya. But... I think ya might need ta take a small nap. Yer as grouchy as a pup without their milk," purrs Victor, and in a quick motion, stabs a large dart into Wolverine's neck, waiting until the smaller mutant falls unconscious.

"'Kay, kit, it's yer turn! Now, ya can come out and take it easy... Or ya can play hard, and take a long nap like the runt over here..." he calls out, slowly pulling himself up and dusting off the snow that's covered him.

When they don't respond, he huffs lightly, then lunges onto the nearest tree, clawing his way up, until he finds where Reader hid themself. He grins, glad to know they didn't leave while he and their brother fought...

"Time ta come home, kit..."

#honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere marvel #yandere platonic marvel #platonic yandere xmen #yandere x-men #platonic yandere #platonic yandere x reader #platonic yandere marvel x reader #platonic yandere wolverine #platonic yandere sabretooth #platonic yandere xmen: the animated series #platonic yandere victor creed #platonic yandere logan howlett #platonic yandere graydon creed

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capseycartwright · 1 year

Note

If the prompt sparks joy: buddie and where does it hurt?

thank you amy my dear! some vague finale spec because i couldn't help myself

“Where does it hurt?” Buck’s mouth was twisted into a hard line, his brow furrowed as he crouched in front of Eddie. They were waiting for another ambulance – other people were more seriously injured than Eddie, and so he had to wait his turn: that was how it worked at major incidents. Eddie was fine with it, really – Bobby was in an ambulance on his way to LA General, Chimney not far behind, and so he’d patiently wait his turn.

“You know where,” Eddie chided gently. “I told you – I broke a few ribs.”

Buck glared up at him. “When did you get your medical degree?” he snarked.

“When did you?” Eddie couldn’t help but bite back. It had been a long – and terrifying – day and so he couldn’t help it – he was tired, and as much as he appreciated Buck’s fussing, he was in pain, and Buck’s gentle prodding wasn’t helping.

He took one look at Buck’s forlorn face, and immediately felt bad. “Give me a once over,” he offered, and though Buck hesitated, the relief he clearly felt at having been given permission was clear. “See for yourself,” Eddie nudged, and Buck didn’t need more encouragement than that.

Eddie’s turnout coat had long since been discarded, the heavy material weighing down on his already tender body, so Buck didn’t have too many layers to bypass to get to Eddie’s ribs. Gently – so gently, Eddie noted, Buck’s hands feather-light as they skimmed the hem of his t-shirt, gently moving it upwards to give a better view of Eddie’s ribs.

“Definitely broken,” Buck sighed, and Eddie swallowed his ‘I told you so’ – it wasn’t the time. “Where is that ambulance? You could – you could be bleeding internally, you need to get to a hospital.”

“Buck,” Eddie tried, Buck’s attention firmly fixed on Eddie’s ribs. “Buck,” he repeated, his voice gentle, pleading, almost. “Can you look at me please?”

Buck didn’t move.

“Please?” Eddie repeated, and Buck finally moved, lifting his head to look at Eddie, his eyes shining bright with unshed tears. “I’m okay,” he reassured, reaching out with his good arm, his left holding tight to his side in the hopes of holding his broken ribs together. With shaking fingers, Eddie pushed Buck’s matted hair back off his forehead, stomach churning as he realised Buck’s hair was matted with more than just sweat: blood and dust lingering as a reminder of the altogether too close a call they’d just experienced.

“You almost weren’t,” Buck’s lip wobbled, the other man biting the corner of his mouth in an attempt to stop himself from crying. Eddie had never seen Buck like this – not at a scene, at least. Buck was an emotional person, but he was usually stoic until they got in the doors of the hospital, but not today. Today, despite the fact they were surrounded by police, and rescue teams, and far too many people craning to see what disaster was unfolding – staring, as though Eddie’s family hadn’t just faced death all over again and barely survived it.

“But I am,” Eddie rubbed his thumb against Buck’s cheekbone, wishing he had the strength to just pull him closer. He needed Buck close. He’d been far too close to being pancaked in that van, the weight of a fridge crushing against his back. Eddie had wondered if this was it, for a second – that despite how many insane things he’d survived in his thirty-something years on the planet, he’d go getting crushed by a fridge in a bridge collapse – and then Buck was there, sweat pouring down his face as he’d moved the fridge, determined as he and Hen had dragged Eddie free of the van, right before it had been crushed into nothingness.

“I can’t keep almost losing you,” Buck admitted, his voice quiet – as though he didn’t want anyone else to overhear. Eddie understood that – he didn’t want anyone else to overhear either. Ideally, he supposed, this would happen in a private moment – in Eddie’s apartment, maybe, or in a secluded corner of the station – but it was happening now.

That was okay too.

Eddie didn’t mind.

“I can’t promise you that it won’t happen again,” Eddie admitted – because he wasn’t going to lie to Buck, was he? They were past that – past lying to each other, no secrets left between them anymore, not when Buck’s admission hung heavy in the air. “But I’ll always fight to come home to you.”

Buck let out a shuddering breath, resting his forehead against Eddie’s, the gesture a promise of what was to come later – later, after an ambulance ride, and a hospital visit, and a quiet car journey home. “You can’t leave me,” Buck said, eyes squeezed shut. “I wouldn’t survive losing you.”

“You have me,” Eddie promised – because it was the truth of it, really. Buck had always had him – even before Eddie had realised it, even before he had been ready to admit it, Buck had him.

Buck looked at him, eyes shining with words neither of them had said yet. They would come, though. Eddie knew that. “I’m going to find you an ambulance,” he said, pressing a brief kiss to Eddie’s cheek, the gesture feeling juvenile, almost, in light of the seismic shift that had just happened in their relationship.

Or maybe it wasn’t seismic after all, Eddie realised – it was inevitable, actually, their friendship trundling toward love long before either of them had realised the path they had set themselves on.

Eddie watched, as Buck wandered toward the incident commander, his face set back to serious, ‘I’m working’ Buck, determined as he went about finding an ambulance for Eddie.

No.

It wasn’t seismic at all.

It was the sort of inevitability that Eddie hadn’t realised he craved – and maybe he didn’t crave it, and he just craved Buck, and the steady love he so willingly gave Eddie every day.

send me a concern for others prompt

#911 fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #911 fic #in which i ramble #in which lorna writes fic #prompt fill #mellaithwen

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book-place · 1 year

Text

A Brothers Job

Warnings: mentions of John and hunting, violence/ fighting, slight cursing, mentions of blood,let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Dean Winchester x sister reader, Sam Winchester x sister reader

*not my gif*

Summary: Your brothers are always there to protect you, no matter what, no questions asked

A/N: This may or may not have been inspired from a scene in Avatar 2 that I thought of while watching it

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

Another day, another school.

That’s what you had been forced to get used to with your father being a hunter and your elder brothers following right behind him in his footsteps.

For every school you’d been to, you had made new friends, found new things that you loved to do, only to be forced to pack up and move once again as soon as the hunt was over with no consideration whatsoever for what you wanted or needed.

You shuffled through the hallway, head hung low and books clutched tightly to your chest as you tried to make your way to your next class without running into any of the students that had taken it upon themselves to make your time there a living hell. There were always bullies at your past schools, but for some reason, the ones here were ten times worse.

Of course, you never told either of your brothers because you knew they would throw a fit and then get into trouble with your father when they found out. And that would not be pretty for any of you.

All of a sudden, something hard pushed into your shoulder, causing your eyes to go wide and your arms spread out to the sides as you stumbled back, books flying every which way.

Derek, a guy from Dean's grade who had seemed particularly fond of picking on you, sneered down at you and reached out an arm to push against your shoulder, slamming your backwards into a locker, “Watch where you’re going, freak!” He jeered.

Behind him, a group of his friends laughed loudly, pointing at you as quickly reddening in the face from embarrassment as other students stopped in the halls to see what was happening.

You didn’t respond to his comment as you winced slightly from the impact of your back against the rusted metal and quickly bent down to try and pick up your materials. You wanted nothing more than to get out of there and get to class as fast as you could without any more confrontation.

“Hey,” Derek curled his lip in disgust as he peered down his nose at you, reeling his foot back before sending it straight to your ribs, “I was talking to you.”

A small yelp left your lips as his shoe connected and you fell to the side with a groan, rolling slightly as you held onto your surely bruised body.

“What the-“ Sam froze in his steps as he took in the sight before him- his little sister on the ground with a kid much older than both of them standing over her.

Without hesitation, he quickly rushed over and gently helped you up, “Are you okay?” He asked softly, eyes scanning up and down your face, and you bit down on your bottom lip, nodding slightly despite the pain.

“Move, jackass,” Derek hissed, “Unless you want to get the beating of your life, too.”

Sam tensed and his face hardened and jaw set in a way that you had never seen before, in a way that reminded you so much of Dean when he was angry.

With a dangerous glare on his face, your brother pivoted on his heel and stared Derek down, standing his ground as he shifted his body so that it was in front of you completely.

All around, people began to whisper and point, making Derek look around nervously as he realized they were wondering why he wasn’t going to fight back against this kid that was clearly so much smaller than he was. Was he scared?

He scoffed, trying to gain back whatever sad piece of pride he had just lost for hesitating, “That’s it, punk,” He hissed, balling his hand into a fist and sending it flying at Sam’s face before either of you had time to react.

You gasped, hands flying up to cover your mouth as you watched in horror, too shocked to even move as your brother was sent into the same locker you had just been pushed into moments before.

“Hey!” Dean had barely even registered what he was seeing when he was just trying to get to his next class. His gaze only set on his little siblings in pain, before red flared through his vision and he charged through the crowd, swinging his fist into Derek’s face before he knew what hit him. Hard.

A sickening crunch that you knew all too well to be the sound of a nose, a possibly a bit of jaw, breaking in the most painful way imaginable.

Sam had regained his footing and went to stand next to you, draping a comforting arm around your shoulders as you watched, still frozen, as your eldest brother hit the boy in front of him with more force than you had ever seen him use.

Curses were flying out of your brother's lips when he was finally forcefully pulled away by a teacher who had been nearby when the commotion had broken out.

Derek lay, moaning and rolling on the ground with blood coming out of his nose and too many visible bruises to count. You cringed as you thought about the wounds that couldn’t even be seen.

“You three,” The principal snapped, pushing his way through the crowd of shocked students with his chest panting up and down as if he had just run a marathon, “My office, now.”

With that, he turned on his heel and marched away, clearly expecting you all to follow.

Dean scowled at the teacher who was still holding onto him and harshly shrugged off his hands before he made his way over to you, kicking Derek’s legs out of the way.

“Are you two okay?” He asked, and though his voice was gruff, his eyes were soft in a way that only you and Sam could decipher.

Both of you nodded your head, shoulders sagging tiredly.

“Now, will one of you explain to me why the hell I just hit that kid for whatever he was doing?” His voice was dropped so that no one around you, even the ones trying to lean closer, could hear what was being said.

“He hit Y/n,” Sam explained, “I don’t know why either, but I tried to help too.”

Those were your brothers. Always willing to step in whenever it involved you without question, never caring who they got on the wrong side of.

Dean was silent for a moment before nodding and training his eyes on you, “How hard did he hit you?” He asked lowly, dangerously.

“Hard enough.” You whispered, wincing slightly as you tried to feel your ribs.

Just as the eldest Winchester sibling looked like he was about to turn around and unleash his protective rage once more, you grabbed his arm and made him look at you, “Don’t,” You stressed, “It’s not worth it.”

He hesitated, clearly torn between doing what you asked and ripping that kid's lungs out. But, he eventually sided with you and allowed his muscles to relax under your grip.

“Come on,” He mumbled, letting you both go in front of him so that you could go down to the office.

On the way past, Sam made sure to give Derek a swift kick in the ribs for good measure before continuing to walk, ignoring the glare he received from the school nurse who was just crouching down in front of the sprawled out boy.

“Thank you, guys,” You whispered genuinely.

“No need to thank us,” Dean said, reaching over and squeezing your shoulder once with a small smile, “We’re your older brothers, it’s our job.”

Idjits 👟- @ineedmorefanfics2 @roseblue373

#platonic #platonic imagine #x reader #supernatural #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader platonic #dean winchester x sister reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader platonic #sam winchester x sister reader #supernatural x reader #spn x sister reader #spn #spn x reader #winchester brothers x sister reader

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lxinesux · 9 months

Text

i’m holding my breath for you

Characters: Tasm!Peter Parker

Relationships: Peter Parker/Reader

Summary: Reader regrets her time with Peter and attempts to push him away to get her friendship back. Peter does not take it well. Smut ensues.

Warnings: Blood, Fingering,Loss of Virginity, Floor + Counter Sex, Creampie, mildly dark!Peter, Possessive Sex

A/N: There’s a read more because this gets smuttyish pretty early. love creepy peter, hes just a liddle freak 😭. this is the unexpected second part of a story i posted in june-ish. read the first part here!

It had happened, it was real.

He got to touch the untouchable-make you cry out and cum and squirm. He did that. He had been the first to do that.

He’d wanted to fuck you-either with his fingers or his cock-but you were way too spent. He teased you relentlessly in the shower-chasing water droplets that ran over your body with his mouth, touching you all over, kissing you roughly against the shower wall.

You were irresistible, adorable, as you shied away from him, trying to keep his hands above your waist.

“I don’t think…I can’t…”

You could. You could come again. Over and over and over until you couldn’t stand. But he didn’t want to push you. That had been your first orgasm with another person. Stamina could be worked on later.

You were in your head, too. He could tell. You were never the most talkative but there was something going on between your ears he desperately wanted to know about.

Did you regret it? What happened?

Fuck. Did you not trust him anymore?

Was there a way for him to regain that trust?

He corners you in the kitchen, the smallest room in the entire apartment. It was very easy to do, given how small you were in comparison to him.

“We have to talk.”

“About what?” You turn away from him, trying to organize the groceries you bought on your measly paycheck. There wasn’t much, and he could tell you were avoiding him. You could only pick up and put down the same clementine before it became personal.

“About…that.”

“No, we don’t.”

His heart breaks a little.

He thought he’d made his case very clear and apparent.

He was in love with you. Had been for a very long time.

“I haven’t felt the way I do about you since…”

The silence lingers heavily in the kitchen. Your spine is ramrod straight, shoulders tensed. And you’re not looking at him.

Looking like a perfect soldier. Looking like you weren’t human, but a perfect robotic clone. The portrait of frigidity.

His stomach twists. Okay. Alright.

“Forget I said anything. We can just…we can go back to where we were before.”

“Can we?”

The knife between his ribs twists. Wonderful. Great.

“I don’t see why not. We can just..forget this happened.”

“Peter…”

He brushes past you, “Gotta head out.”

“Peter, wait-”

“‘Ts fine. There’s nothing left to say, fresh restart. Factory settings. Just…stop.”

And you do stop. You watch helplessly as he crawls out of the window and into the frigid night air.

Peter was avoiding you entirely.

You attempt to wait up for him, now that he’d made a habit of going on patrol without you. But more than once, you would fall asleep.

You found yourself missing him. The smell of his skin, his hair tickling your nose, the feeling of his arms around you while you slept.

The few times you saw each other in the apartment, he was curt if he made conversation at all. Not even a good morning or good night, just ‘hey’ and ‘bye.’

You’d rather be in the basement at Oscorp getting your brain scrambled than deal with this pain.

You had gone on your own patrol and had gotten back way past mid morning in an attempt not to run into Peter. You’d changed into your civies and walked through the front door-

There’s a stranger in your apartment.

She must have not seen you or if she’d seen you, she didn’t care. The entire apartment smells like breakfast-smoky and sweet alongside the bitter sting of coffee.

And she’s wearing Peter’s favorite t-shirt.

It’s fucking Lucy. Lucy from fucking accounting. She couldn’t figure out how to use the copy machine. The goddamn copy machine!

And she was in your shared apartment.

She had slept here, had slept in Peter’s bed, your bed.

She fucked your Peter.

The kitchen isn’t that large, the aisle blocking off the living room is short enough that the two of you make eye contact as soon as she turns her head.

“Lucy, I told you to-” Peter’s voice comes from behind you.

“Get the fuck out of our house.”

How dare he. How fucking dare he. Fucking sleep with some random girl beause you wanted space? You wanted his friendship back and he fucks LUCY?

Her lips are parting, like she wants to say something. Her hand is on her hips, like you’re just some girl in competition. Like you didn’t know how to break her neck in a millisecond, like you didn’t have the training to ruin that pretty face.

In an instant, she was an enemy and your programming slams into overdrive. You’re up and over the counter in a millisecond, the t-shirt bunched into your first.

Superhuman strength is a blessing and a curse. You only mean to maybe shove her lightly.

What you do instead is leave a Lucy sized hole in the cheap door to your apartment. She lands at the end of the hall. Every door on the floor is flung open, revealing shock and amused faces alike-all of them turned to you.

“You’re so lucky we weren’t evicted,” He sighed, “And that Lucy was only a little bruised.”

A little bruised was an understatement. Lucy has a contusion in her shoulder that’ll take weeks to heal.

You tried not to look too pleased at the news as you helped Peter install the new door.

“She’s lucky she was only bruised,” You breathe through your nose.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Why did you even bring her here? Couldn’t you guys shack up at her place or something?”

“I didn’t think you’d be back before morning.” He actually has the grace to look guilty, maybe a little sad.

“Whatever.”

More silence.

You chew diligently on your bottom lip until he speaks.

“I’m sorry. It’s been weird these past few weeks. I think…I think it’d be best if I moved out?”

“Excuse me?”

“Come on, you’re actually comfortable like this? We nearly fuck, we kiss. You mauled my one-night stand! You push me away, you try to reel me back in. Forgive me for getting mixed signals!” His hands move into his hair, running his fingers through it, “I can’t do this anymore, I really can’t! Seeing you, it’s like…it’s fucking torture. I can’t do it.”

“You don’t talk to me for weeks and this is what you have to say!? You think this is easy for me?! God, Peter! I don’t know how to feel about you! I’m a fucking lab experiment gone rogue! I’m barely a person! What part of that screams girlfriend material to you!”

“I’ll let the landlord know I’m getting off the lease. I’ll be out at the end of the month.”

“So that’s it?”

“I can call Stark back, so you aren’t by yourself. I know you hate that. I don’t want you to have to be alone. We just…can’t be alone together. Not like this. Not until I’m over this…”

“Fuck you, Peter Parker.”

The new door slams, the hinges cracking.

You’re awake for hours, waiting for him to come home. You smell him before you see him.

Blood. You smell blood, thick and salty, and wrong on Peter.

His suit has been shredded along his abdomen, the blood making the spandex cling to the open wounds.

He nearly falls through the window and you catch him before he hits the floor. Guilt is swift and immediate.

Wordlessly, you help him to the bathroom. He doesn’t fuss, doesn’t put up a fight.

You peel off his suit gently, careful of the-are those claw marks in his chest? Before you can grab the first aid, his fingers are loosely wrapped around your wrist. He pulls you towards him. Pressing you against him, his sweaty bloody body touching your skin. He lets out a tense breath.

“Peter-”

“Just let me hold you. Just for a little bit.”

You can’t say no to him. You let him run his fingers through your hair, rub your back. Gently, you lay your head on his shoulder, trying to be careful of his wounds but selfishly trying to soak up all the emotion and touch you haven’t felt in weeks.

“I’m sorry,” He breathes out after a long stretch of silence.

“I..I’m sorry, too.”

“I kept trying to push you.”

“I was trying to protect you from me.”

He takes your face in his hands. His blood feels tacky on your cheeks. He brings your foreheads together, his breath warm against your lips. You remember what it was like to kiss him. How he’d begged for it, begged for something so simple as that.

The thought makes your body pulse in ways you don’t want to think about. Not right now. His thumb rubs against your cheek, leaving your flesh tingling in its wake.

“I don’t need you to protect me. Let alone protect me from something I want.”

“I told you before, you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

He chuckles weakly before letting you go. You grab the first aid kit out of the medicine cabinet but still feel his eyes tracing along your back. When you turn, he doesn’t shy away from his staring, a goofy smile still plastered on his face.

“I wanna kiss you again.”

“Peter, can you focus?”

“So mean to me,” He pouts when you come near him, “I’m injured and you won’t kiss me better?”

“You’ve lost a lot of blood. Healing factor is making you loopy. Sit up straight, I’m going to disinfect your wounds.”

“Yes ma’am,” In the same scratchy voice that he had when he-

Ugh. You are not thinking about that right now. Even if he’s being too handsy, running his hands over your hips, up your sides. Trying to pull you into his lap.

“I can smell it, ya know? Super senses.”

You want to dose him with the rubbing alcohol bottle just to get him to stop talking. His blood was clotting nicely and you’ve since surmised that most if the blood on him wasn’t him as you feared.

“Smell what?” You dab him gently instead. A tight, clean gauze dressing and the deep marks should go away in a few days. You apply the clean cotton and begin to wrap him up, seconds away from applying skin safe tape.

“When your cunt’s wet, when I turn you on. Like now. Can smell it, always have. That’s how I know you want this too, you’re just scared.”

Your noses touch when you look at him earnestly, “I am scared.”

“I’m scared, too,” His fingers move through your hair, his eyes scan your face, “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t wanna lose your trust.”

It feels good. The silence surrounding you doesn’t feel as oppressive knowing that you’re both in it together. Your eyes close without your permission, lounging once again the comfort of just having Peter touch you again.

“I trust you, Peter.”

You feel his face move further toward you, his lips inches away from yours.

“Say that again,” he whispers breathlessly, “Please, say that again.”

“I trust you.”

It was the closest thing to confirmation he was ever going to get, but he’d take it.

His lips press against yours, a soft peck. Another and another until he can feel your body relax. He’s been so starved of you, greed fills him when your lips part. He lifts you up, possessive hands firm on your ass.

God, you were soft. So soft and warm. He wants to devour you, piece by piece.

He puts you on the bathroom counter, your legs hike up over his hips. Your pussy is pressed against the tent in his pants through your thin sleep shorts.

He won’t pull away. His lips leave yours only briefly to catch his breath. Your shaky hands move through his hair and he shutters.

“Missed you so bad,” He whispers, “Missed you so fucking bad.”

His hands move up your shirt, his warm hands traveling up to your bra and then running back down to your thighs.

You whimper, your flesh breaking out in goosebumps. His lips trail pecks from your mouth, across your cheek, and down your neck. The soft noises you make control him. You’ve never experienced pleasure like this and he wanted to be the only one to give it to you.

The only person you’ll ever have. The idea of anyone else seeing you melt like this makes him suck the sensitive skin of your neck between his teeth.

“Peter-“ Slightly desperate. Begging almost.

He pets your hair, “Shh, baby. I’m right here. Do you feel me?”

He pulls your hips tighter to him. Your fingers dig into his shoulders. When you hiss between your teeth, he can feel himself leak precum.

“Y…yeah…” You move minutely against him, “Yeah, feel you. Feels good…”

He kisses you again, just to taste the words. He pulls away just to get your shirt off. New skin for him to put his mouth on. He unhooks your bra easily, how starved he was for your flesh. He mouths along your collarbones, leaving bruises with his mouth that would linger on your skin.

He kisses down your chest. Your nipples are hard and pink and distracting.

“Peter, Peter, I-“

His tongue swirls around a nub, the other is tortured by his fingers. He pulls it away from your flesh. You try to move your chest further into his face. Christ, you’re so fucking adorable. You gasp and writhe.

Fuck, you’re getting so wet too. He can feel it against him, dampening the front of your panties and his Spidey suit.

His cock aches. He needed to be inside you, couldn’t take getting pushed away again. He was going insane. He was going to jump out of his skin if he had to wait any longer.

“Get down.”

“Wha?” Your voice is thick and heavy. Your eyes are glazed over. It’s making it so much worse.

“Get down, lean over the counter.”

For the first time in weeks, you do as you're told. Your panties are around your ankles before you realize it. He spreads your ankles apart.

Your pussy is pink and glistening. His mouth waters while he admires it. You whine.

“Nah baby, don’t be embarrassed. Most perfect thing I have ever seen…” He kisses along your shoulders, down your back.

His hand moves between your thighs, “You’ve never had anything inside this sweet pussy, have you?”

Your cheeks are flushed, “No…”

He smiles, reaching around your front and pressing against your clit.

“Oh my god-“

“Breathe, baby,” He presses the tip of one finger against your opening, “Gonna open you up so I don’t hurt you. It’ll feel good, I promise. Just breathe.”

One finger slides in instantly. In and out, hearing the sound of your soaked cunt. He can see your legs lock at first as you feel the awkward pressure. You relax again when you get accustomed to one finger. Another slides alongside and you keen as the press against that spot inside you.

“Too much…” You whimper.

“Pretty girl, I know you can take more,” His fingers speed up slightly as you leak against him, “Fuck, you’re so tight. Been dreaming about you cumming around my cock…”

Your eyes flutter closed, your mouth opens just slightly. Your hips move back against his fingers. You might be trying to say something, but the only thing Peter can hear is-

“Ah, ah, fuck, please…”

Your face in the mirror is gonna make him lose it. He gently tilts your head back.

“Look at yourself,” He whispers in your ear, eyes locking with yours in the reflection, “Look at what I’m doing to you…”

Another finger, his free hand returns home to your clit. You don’t avert your eyes, even though you really want to. Watching your own skin flush, your pupils unfocuses, your jaw slack.

“‘m so close…so close…”

Embarrassing for you, arousing for him.

He pulls his hands away from you. You whine, your chest rising and falling rapidly. “No!”

You feel the tip of him press against your hole. Protests die in your throat. He’s big. So big, you don’t know if he’ll fit. He might tear you apart. You feel so empty though, open and ready. If he doesn’t do something, your heart is gonna explode in your chest.

You trust him.

He’s trying so hard to be patient. You’re a fucking velvet vice around the head of his cock and he wants to feel you all around him. He pushes in farther, letting out a strained moan.

Your breathing picks up, your eyes squeeze shut. He knows before you say. He can feel your walls pulse, your thighs quivering-

“Cumming, Peter, fuck I’m gonna-“

He nearly finishes right there and then. Your cunt tightens impossibly around him, trying to milk him for all his worth. Your body crumples, nearly hitting the floor. He holds you while you shutter through it, kissing along your temple.

He guides you gently to the floor, laying you on your back before boxing you in with his own. He guides your thighs over his hips.

He slides in much easier after your first orgasm. By the time he’s fully seated inside you, you already accept your fate. He takes a minute to look where you're conjoined, your puffy pussy taking all of him.

He pulls out just enough before slamming back in, watching your face. Your groan, your head lulling back. He does it again, and again. Shallow, slow thrusts to get you used to the weight of him. He’s seeing stars behind his eyes, watching your face contort while he overstimulates you on purpose.

“You’ve got more in you,” He pants out, “I know you’ve got more in you.”

Those swallow thrusts change into deeper, faster ones. Hitting that spot inside you over and over. Your skin glistens with a light sheen of sweat, his blood is drying on your body. The sight of it is making him insane. Peter leans over and starts sucking bruises into the soft flesh of your neck. His teeth trace your jugular.

“One more,” He breathes in your ear, “Gimme one more…”

Your abs are twitching underneath him, whimpering and whining and clinging to him. You say his name over and over, like it’s the only word that exists in your brain.

His thrusts get more sloppy, feeling your own second impending orgasm build pushes him toward the edge.

“Gonna cum inside you…” Not a question, a statement.

No going back.

You only cry out, seeking out his mouth to drown out the embarrassing noises you’re making. He licks into your mouth just as you tighten and gush around him again.

With one final thrust, he cums deep inside you. He bites down hard on your lower lip.

Now, he’s got your blood on him. No matter how small the amount.

“I love you,” He whispers against your skin, “I love you…”

You nod, struggling to catch your breath. You lean your head against him.

“If you love me, really, you’ll help me clean up.”

He laughs. It’s the prettiest sound you’ve heard in weeks.

“Fine,” He presses a noisey kiss to the crown of your head, “Shower?”

“A shower shower,” You say, “No funny business.”

“I promise nothing.”

“Christ, Peter, at least wait until I can stand…”

It’s a start.

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