I’m loving your Poly!141 series, I love how you’re showing doe as just wanting to be kind while not expecting anything in return and being genuinely shocked that the 141 would want to return that affection. Do you think doe at this point anyway find any NSFW affection as transactional?
Hello anon!:D I'm at uni right now so this has less than no beta reader it actually has -1 beta reader since I won't even double check this myself. Anywho, I'm not sure if it ever shone through but before dabbling my hand at this which is mostly (MOSTLY) fluff, I was a hurt no comfort angst writer. So while I plan on having doe not see it as transactional but instead as themselves of undeserving and not understanding why anyone would desire them until the boys do their best to teach them, why don't we just for a second dabble in this. Nick presents: about 650 words of spiralling down an abyss but at least there's a cat
Warnings: Descriptions of self doubt, descriptions of using one's body as a means to receive even a hint of attention, descriptions of issues with self worth and self sexualisation in a negative self destructive way.
It's dark, dark and quiet in your apartment. The lights have been off for a while, one room over you assume no more like hope a man is asleep in your bed. One who's shot and killed people, one who's rough around the edges and yet has been so gentle with you. And still a feeling boils in the pit of your stomach, clawing its way to your throat while you stand where you've stood again and again. Hands braced on the drawer in your hallway, the mirror in front of you slightly fogged up from your own breath.
Lightbulb sits with you, her tail swishing back and forth. She's seen this a million times. A million one night stands, a million failed talking stages, a million hookups with shady people from strange bars and a million nights you've stood here and you've felt this way. It's burning deep in the pit of your stomach, that knowledge that your worth goes no deeper than your skin, you're to be touched, to be desired, to be handled and fucked and discarded. That's all there is and ever probably will be.
It boils below your skin that itching feeling of knowing when you wake up the bed beside you is meant to be empty, it will be. He's asleep now, or wondering where you've gone just to put it off as you feeding the cat or something mundane, normal. Not that you stood there forcing down tears and bile over the knowledge that nothing you do or receive reaches beyond this level. It's not done for romance or love or kindness. It's done because they want and you give, they pull and you relent. Perhaps that is exactly why you've been giving these four presents as much as you have. Maybe your mind still hasn't caught the hint. There is still that naive believe stuck to the back of it that if you just give enough, if you let them take enough maybe one day someone will take the burden and pity you enough to keep you. Feel benevolent enough to think you're deserving of something that reaches just below the skin. For just a second you try to imagine what that could be like, what it would feel like to wake up next to someone their arm around your waist a thumb mindlessly stroking over skin not because of lust but because they want to stay right where they are for just a while longer.
He had done that earlier, given you a few minutes of this kindness. Fed into this delusion growing within you that maybe this had meant something more than cheap intimacy, a release he could've gotten anywhere else but you were just the most convenient had given yourself over the easiest. He's not been gentle to be gentle with you but because it's going to ease you into forgiving when he leaves. You'd have anyways, bruises or kisses you'd have forgiven because this is your place isn't it? To give your body for what boils down to superficial attention and validation is all You're still good for.
Lightbulbs meowing pulls you from the spiral, her head pushing against your arm making you finally look up and pet her. She knows and she's trying to help in her own way though her help makes you realize something far worse too. The bedroom door had opened again, his figure filling it out while he looked at you. "Luv' you alright?" All you can offer in response is a weak nod pushing off the drawer to go back and join him. Your struggle isn't theirs, never should be so why break down when you know your role is to go back and be a warm body for him just a while longer.