#ahhh I'm so sorry this took me so long!!

[howthesleeplesswander]

As Lord van Zieks rose from his chair, Kazuma expected that he would indeed take his leave for the night. But instead he turned to the cabinet full of those absurdly ornate chalices, and although Kazuma's attentive gaze caught the withdrawal of not one, but two cups, he was somehow still caught off-guard by the request that followed.

Not an easy feat to accomplish. He was always at the ready: poised to tackle any task with vigor and aplomb. This, however, was perhaps the first time Kazuma was unprepared for a task laid before him.

But no—he quashed that waver of uncertainty the moment it bloomed. The initial shock may have rendered him stunned for a moment, but in truth, Kazuma had long since been searching for an opportunity like this.

Despite their weeks of collaboration since that fateful trial, neither party had ever addressed those events...at least, not as directly as they deserved. Kazuma wasn't one to dance around a subject, but there simply hadn't been time—not when there was such deep history, so many wrongs, so much regret. The air around such a topic couldn't be cleared in a few stolen minutes throughout a busy day. Trying very well may just make things worse. He would be a fool not to seize this chance.

After a few beats of silence, Kazuma set down his quill. "I'm hardly a wine expert." A gross understatement, considering he'd never had it before, but he wouldn't back down from the new experience any more than he would back down from a conversation so long overdue. "If you don't mind the selection of a novice, however, I can choose for us, if you wish," he continued, the statement serving as clear acceptance of the offer.

Rising from the floor, Kazuma ventured into the back alcove where the bottles were kept. He only spared a moment glancing over them. Each was the same as the next as far as he was concerned; and the wine they would be drinking hardly mattered. He selected one at random that at least had a label he could read and headed back out into the main office.

Determination coursed through him with every footfall. He didn't yet know his mentor's reasons for asking to speak with him like this, but regardless, Kazuma's own reasons would not be swayed. They had much to discuss.

"A fitting choice, I hope?" he posed as he held the bottle out to his mentor. "Though, it's hard to say without knowing the occasion." His posture remained strictly at attention. He couldn't rule out the possibility that Lord van Zieks had some sort of business to discuss, in which case it was his duty as apprentice to address such matters first before steering the conversation himself. "Is there something you wish to discuss?"

It was — difficult, this dynamic of theirs. A novel and personal trial. For a decade, what his colleagues thought of Lord Barok van Zieks had meant little to him; it was time and concern he could not have spared. The burden of London's collective judgement had sat heavy ( still sat heavy ) upon his shoulders, and it had taken every ounce of strength and of hard-practised aristocratic dignity to carry himself tall... as though his pride, throughout it all, had remained unscathed despite the blotting of his name.

( He had thought there was little else they could have done. That anyone could have done. And, oh, how he had thought wrong. )

It was a wonder that Kazuma wanted anything to do with the van Zieks name after that trial. But the Asogis were ever full of surprises... like father, like son. And so young Asogi's apprenticeship continued, this time without the oppressive hand of the previous Lord Chief Justice to smother his flame.

It was a frightening thing, at times, that boldness and that unrelenting will. Reminiscent of a vengeful ire that had, ten years before, sent Barok's own dear friend to a wrongful death.

But where Barok had only had Lord Stronghart to feed his mournful rage, Asogi — with support, and with Naruhodo's endless pursuit of truth to guide his spirit home — had surmounted the odds and the deception. He had entered London as a fragment of a man without a name nor face, burning so desperately for answers that he leapt at the chance to snap hungry jaws at any throat Stronghart offered him. And, despite Stronghart's wretched misguidance, Asogi had fought and clawed his way out from the wreckage of the trial, incorrupt and quick to once again find purpose.

... Barok envied Asogi, on the worst of days.

Today, he didn't bother to suppress his snort of amusement.

❛ Hrm. ❜ Stubborn as a mule. Some things never changed; Barok knew better than to try and argue. ❛ So be it. ❜

He glanced at the sheathes of papers at Asogi's side and then at the darkened skies outside their window, contemplating.

No, there was no avoiding it. Not for long, in any case, unless Barok was willing to gamble his sanity whenever he next dared to glance at his apprentice, hoping that it would be Kazuma's brow furrowed in concentration across the office, rather than the visage of a ghost long past. The face of a man whose blood would stain Barok's hands forever.

He and Asogi ought to speak soon. Candidly, and without their business to distract them. It was only right.

He stepped out of his seat, turning to the cabinet beside his desk and plucking out a pair of chalices. With his back still turned to Asogi: ❛ You know where the bottles are kept — by the far wall, at the end of the kegs, all labelled and shelved by region and their age. Some imported and some bottled here... take your pick out of them, if you have a preference or perhaps any burning curiosities. If not, I will select a wine for tonight. ❜

Barok paused for a moment, halfway through wiping the insides of the glasses, and huffed out a restrained, barely audible sigh.

❛ ... if you won't mind joining me, that is. ❜

It was somewhat daunting: the idea of at last keeping Asogi company where their work was not concerned. But he was set upon forcing himself at last to nudge the quasi-comfortable line that master and apprentice had clumsily drawn thus far.

In his deep rumination, he had almost forgotten Asogi's say.

[randomtacoscry]

Icemav/Hangster Sister Edits ARE HERE

(this one's also pretty loud so put your device on like 2)

[phagodyke]

aouuugh my uterus......

[divinelght]

[ STYLE ] - Eve had to! ^.^

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 ― accepting , @wildskissed!

Aurora can't remember the last time someone had regarded her so gently and it shows in the way she tips her head forward with her eyes pressed shut, granting the sorceress room to weave her golden tresses into a braid. Relaxed. Aurora is, despite everything, relaxed. She thinks her father used to do this for her and her heart aches at how much she misses him, but she lets the gentle work of Eve's hands comfort her. A soft hum vibrates in her chest, hands firmly planted in the soft grass of their camp. "I can't wait to see what it looks like when you're done. I'm sure it's beautiful!"

[conjuring-ghouls]

Send this to ten other bloggers that you think are wonderful. Keep the game going, make someone smile!!! 💗 (SENDS YOU MANY HUGS, I ADORE YOU SO MUCH!!)

😭😭🥺🥺🫂 I'M CRYING, LOU!!! Sending you a thousand hugs back cause you deserve it 🥺🖤

[cartierre]

BRUTAL OUT HERE | op81

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU oscar piastri x fem!singer!reader (fc: olivia rodrigo)

side note: the way i used to dislike oscar and now i'm so immensely proud of what he's achieved is crazy. what a character arc of me.

♡ liked by conangray, oscarpiastri, sabrinacarpenter and 238,495 others

yourusername i am beyond the moon happy and proud to announce that my debut album is out now in store and on all music platforms! having worked on this for so long, it feels like seeing my little child grow up 🫶🏻 my team and i invested a lot of time and effort into this and i'm insanely excited for you to experience it. let me hear your thoughts and opinion on this! 💜

view all 7,293 comments

user1 JUST LISTENED TO IT AND I AM NOT OKAY

user2 the way this captures the spirit of being a teenage girl so well ⤷ user3 she literally took my feelings and put it into words it's incredible

conangray i'm so proud of my babygirl comment liked by yourusername ⤷ yourusername ah stop! you helped me so much in the process, huge huge thank you for supporting me 🫶🏻😭 ⤷ user4 i love y/n's and conan's friendship so so much!

oscarpiastri 💜🖤 ⤷ user5 OSCAR?

♡ liked by conangray, landonorris, oscarpiastri and 201,394 others

tagged: conangray

yourusername the last few weeks have been absolutely crazy! i've recieved so much love and positive feedback for 'SOUR' ... i can't even describe how loved and appreciated i feel. i love you guys so much!

view all 6,283 comments

user6 you deserve this so much!! your music makes me feel so many emotions, it's incredible

user7 can't believe how far you've come! been listening to your solos for so long and now you have a whole album aaahh ⤷ user8 remember when she used to upload covers on youtube?

oscarpiastri insanely proud! comment liked by yourusername

user9 oscar is being a bit suspicious these days i don't trust him ⤷ user10 lando is also liking sooo something is brewing in the paddock for sure

♡ liked by conangray, madisonbeer, oscarpiastri and 302,183 others

yourusername my first performance here in melbourne (my hometown) felt so fucking special i'm in tears from how amazing you guys were! my official tour dates are coming soon!

view all 8,283 comments

user11 is it true that you and oscar are childhood friends ⤷ user12 what if they're dating ⤷ user13 what if sour is actually about him?

conangray ahhh i'm so proud of my bestie! comment liked by yourusername ⤷ yourusername couldn't have done it without your pep talk

user14 someone said sour is about oscar and y/n's former relationship? ⤷ user15 is this confirmed?

oscarpiastri what an amazing show 💜 comment liked by yourusername

♡ liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, sabrinacarpenter and 328,283 others

tagged: oscarpiastri, landonorris

yourusername cat's out of the bag thanks to this dingus

view all 8,094 comments

user16 no because it's kinda sweet they revealed their relationship during oscar's homerace (even if it was accidental) ⤷ user17 and her having had her first concert a week ago in melbourne as well (which he attended) like since when is melbourne so romantic like that

oscarpiastri i already told you i'm really really sorry ⤷ yourusername save your apology and gimme a kiss

landonorris great so now i see your annoying asses in real life AND on social media ⤷ yourusername haters gonna hate

user18 but... i wanna know who the album is about then ⤷ user19 real like babes let us knoooowwww

user20 i love childhood friends to lovers aaahh comment liked by yourusername

[avydabby]

I was so in love with your EthanxChadxReader!!! Ongggggg

But can you do EthanxReader sneaking off and having a make-out session and then smut?

Love your worrrkkk ♡♡♡

ahhh! thank you babes ! sorry it took so long to start !

Oh, Mr. Ghostface ! 🎀☻🍒

secretfwb!ethan landry x reader

warnings: making out, head (m receiving), face fucking, hints of subcon, minor spit play, overstimulation, aftercare, and maybe some more?

words: 2.4k

author’s note: ok guys wtf did I just write. 🤷‍♀️

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

Sex with Ethan Landry was something you never expected to indulge in. But you couldn't help yourself after he caught you getting off in your living room before your guys' study session that he just happened to be early for. And a month later, the sex is still just as good as the first time.

So it makes sense that when you see Ethan in his little cardboard costume you just need him. And you didn't care who saw you two sneak off into the neighbor's garden shed.

"What's-" Kiss. "-got you so-" Nip. "-fuck, so worked up?" Ethan's voice is curious and amused as you try to ignore his words to keep yourselves connected.

Your lips pull from his - a string of your connected saliva following - to lift that stupid little cardboard helmet off his head. His eyes widen as you toss it somewhere in the shed to be found later and reach up to pull his lips back to yours.

Ethan's eyes widen as he picks back up your feverish kissing, your lips encasing his with a mix of your salvias and the clashing of teeth. Your hand traces up the cardboard armor on his chest and tap it softly with a single finger.

"Take it off?" Ethan murmurs enquiringly against your soft lips. He pulls back an inch to look down at your hungry eyes before reaching for the bottom of the cardboard. He nods as he continues, "I'm gonna take it off."

You watch with an amused glint as he struggles for a second to take off the costume entirely. His cheeks burn harshly as you watch him flimsily stand back up to his full height. Now in only his everyday clothes, his jeans doing nothing to hide how turned on he was.

“You’re staring," he whispers, his voice holding a playful lilt.

Your eyes slide up his frame from his crotch to meet his blown-out pupils. A small and devilish grin teases your lips in a way that makes his pants tighten even more in a painful way.

“You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?” He groans with his head tilted back. He takes a few steps towards you, pinning you against the wall with a cradling hand behind your head. Lifting your chin with one finger, Ethan forces you to keep your gaze on him as he gets closer and closer.

"Now who's worked up?" Your teasing causes him to groan and tuck his head into the crook of your neck and shoulder. Looking for relief, Ethan's hand grips your wrist to slide it down his front and to his clothed erection.

“See what you’re doing to me, baby?" Ethan murmurs, his hand shadowing yours to squeeze softly around the head of his bulge. He grits his teeth at the stimulation, and he unevenly breathes into your neck. "Think you need to help me take care of it."

"Take care how?" You question quietly, leaning up to try and catch his lips again. He leans back from you to stare you down with a newfound sense of control.

Instead of speaking any more, Ethan's hand cradling the back of your head begins to guide you down. He watches as you slowly sink lower onto your knees, his lips parting as if he can't believe you're actually doing it. Ethan's hand trembles just slightly as it swiftly moves your hair out of your face while his other hand begins to toy with his belt.

Your hands reach up to replace his, keeping your eyes connected to his glassy, pretty ones. The way his sigh slips out of his throat in a choked relief make your actions draw out slower.

The sight of you on your knees was almost enough to undo him completely. He leans forward to rest his forehead against the wall he had you trapped up against, his eyes clenching shut as a shaky sigh slipped past his lips.

“Oh baby...” he groans, his fingers instinctively gripping at your hair when you began to tease him. “Come on, baby. Behave, please."

Giving him some grace, you unzip his jeans to tug them down to below his thighs. His boxers strain with how hard he is, and you take a moment to simply press unchaste kisses against his bulge.

Ethan's hand on the back of your head presses your face against his crotch to get some type of feeling from you. Your nose presses against his erection, and your mouth slides across one of the more prominent veins. Adding more pleasure for him, you stick out your tongue and make him hiss at the feeling.

"Mm, just like that..." he gasps out, his head tilting back as your tongue works against him. The feeling of your tongue against his sensitive skin was driving him absolutely insane, his muscles quivering and tensing with every flick of your tongue. "Oh god- you're way too good at this, baby."

"Can I take these off?" You ask quietly and a little breathless as you pull back for air.

With you sitting pretty on your knees with warm cheeks and puffy lips, how could he say no?

Your fingers slip under the waistband of his boxers and gently pull them down to the rest of his bundled clothes at the bottom of his thighs. Ethan’s cock stands in front of you like a desperate thing waiting to be played with. But this isn’t anything you haven’t handled before.

He tugs your hands up from his thighs, looking down at you with that specific gaze you can never pinpoint exactly what it means. Ethan’s pretty brown eyes are a darker shade and they hold less admiration and more…desperation. Cupping your hands in his grasp, Ethan tilts his head down to let a string of spit land onto them. With enough lubricant, he drops your hands back down to let you do the work.

Taking his length with your spit-covered palms, you use both to stroke him timidly. You always start this way, it’s just how things have always been done. But as you begin to kitten-lick Ethan’s red tip, you get a hint that things aren’t going to be how they usually are.

Ethan bucks his hips forward suddenly and harshly, causing his cock to slip into your mouth. A small chocked sound comes from your throat at the invasion, but it’s quickly quieted by Ethan’s tip poking the back of your throat. Your hands become useless as he draws his hips back before snapping them forward again.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” Ethan groans out lowly, his eyes clenched in pleasure. He continues the rhythm of drawing out and snapping forward, getting faster and faster.

Your hands brace on his thighs, not being able to push him away from the strength and consistency of his strokes. Tears begin to well in the corners of your eyes at the inability to fully breathe, causing your mascara to puddle with them.

Ethan looks down at you on your knees with mascara dripping down your tinted cheeks. His hand comes to cradle the back of your head again, giving you false hope that he would slow down. Instead, he just snaps his hips harder and fucks your mouth meaner.

Ethan’s voice drops low and takes on an edgy tone as he tsks down at you like a disappointed teacher, “C’mon, baby, breathe through your nose. You know better.”

His cock continues to abuse your throat as it goes deeper and hits spots that have you gagging around him. You can feel the way a prominent vein on the underside of him begins to pulse, telling you how close he is. But it’s more the way that Ethan begins mumbling to himself incomprehensible pleadings that sound like a prayer.

“Fuck, gonna-gonna cum down your stu-stupid fucking throat.” Ethan’s stammered and breathy words seem familiar, but the meanness of them is new. And so fucking hot.

You try to meet his sloppy snaps, taking him deeper in your throat, and dig your nails into his thighs to stop yourself from gagging too hard.

You hear Ethan’s groan turn into a whimper and feel his hand move from the back of your head to your cheek. Meeting his glassy eyes with yours, Ethan pinches the apple of your cheek to make you wince.

“Should I be…be nice and cum on your face?” Ethan rhetorically asks in a low tone, only stammering through pleasure once. “Or should I force it down your throat?”

You can’t speak with his cock fucking against your tongue, and Ethan chuckles darkly at that. Your desperate eyes begging him to cum on your face instead, but he just shakes his head slowly.

“Be a good girl and use your words,” he grunts out, hips speeding up sloppily as he gets to the edge. “Otherwise I’ll decide for you.”

Trying to pull off his cock to speak, Ethan stops you by pushing your head down his length. His hands grip the back of your head to keep you in place, your nose hitting his pelvic bone from how close he’s pushing. You can’t help gagging on his large length with how deep it is, your throat struggling to make room for him that far.

“Huh?” Ethan hums cockily from above. “Not gonna say anything?”

Tears stream faster down your face, officially ruining whatever dignity you had before this moment. His twists a chunk of your hair into one of his fists to free his other hand. You wait for him to do something you’ve only seen in porn like smack you or spit on your face and call you a cumslut. But he caresses your cheek with care.

This causes you to look up at him with a glint of confusion. His gaze had stayed the same as earlier, lustful and desperate, but now his brows are uncinched and upturned as he looks down at you.

“Good girl,” I whispers breathily as his hand continues to stroke your cheek. Your throat begins to relax around his length being so far down your throat, making everything feel calmer and more intimate.

Ethan’s eyes close gently as his breathing gets uneven. His voice is still breathy and low as he mumbles to you, “Gonna pull out and cum on your face.”

And without giving you much time to prep, he pulls you back with his fisted hand in your hair. With your throat free from his length, you gasp in air like you’ve been without it for years. Your head is tugged up to look at him more straightforward as his free hand moves to his cock to pump himself fast and desperately.

“Say thank you,” Ethan moans out desperately, his thigh shaking as he gets closer. You blink up at him confused, wondering why. His hand tugs your hair a little to egg you on. “Say thank you for fucking your throat.”

You inhale deeply before nodding, finally getting that he needs this to cum. Ethan takes a shaky step closer, the tip of his cock brushing against your cheek for a second as you hoarsely chant out ‘thank you’s and his name.

Ethan finally spills his cum over your face, most landing on your cheek, as you begin to cry through your words of thanks. His hand loosens on the back of your head as he paints you with his release, the sticky globs making you flinch.

Your shaky cries tame as Ethan’s release washes through and he moves to his knees in front of you. His hands move to cradle your face carefully and delicately, like he was afraid if he was any stronger with it you might break.

“Shh shh shh,” he whispers quietly, pressing a caring kiss against your sticky cum and makeup covered cheek. “You’re okay, baby. You did so good.”

You lean against his touch as your cries transition down to hiccups and sniffles. Finally opening your eyes, you see Ethan with a small calm smile on his lips.

“There she is,” He whispers in the quiet room.

Bringing your hand to wipe tears, you grimace at the mix of things on your face. He chuckles a little at your reaction, moving to stand up and grab his shirt before kneeling back in front of you and beginning to carefully wipe off the mix of tears, cum, and makeup staining your skin.

He notices your unwavering eye contact as he cleans you off, feeling a little nervous now that you were both seemingly coming down from the moment.

As Ethan gets the last bit of cum off your face, he leans back and looks at you with a timid look. He clears his throat quietly before asking, “Are you okay?”

Your eyes soften as he asks, causing him to feel some relief in the situation. Nodding slowly, you try to speak clearly, but can’t with how abused your throat is, “I wasn’t, uh, expecting that from you.”

He huffs out an air of laughter, rolling his lips together before mumbling, “Sorry, uh, yeah. Wasn’t really expecting it either.”

You reach forward to take Ethan’s free hand- the one that didn’t jerk himself off -and begin to play with his fingers to calm yourself down.

“How do’ya feel?” Ethan whispers, looking down at his hand as you play with it. He notices your shaky fingers and looks back up at you.

“Can we cuddle?” You mumble timidly, not meeting his gaze.

Ethan’s eyes flicker with amusement and understanding at your hidden plea for aftercare. He nods, his curly hair moving with it, and whispers, “My place? We can even stop somewhere and get some food too.”

Looking up at him with a nod, Ethan helps you to your shaky feet. Being on your knees for so long really did something to you. Realizing you won’t be able to walk fast enough to not be suspicious, Ethan carefully picks you up like a princess.

He begins to walk towards your car, having you pull your keys out, and helps you into the passenger seat. Slipping into the drivers side, Ethan pulls away from the party.

Once you get some drive-thru food in your system, you begin to feel more like yourself. Ethan notices this, causing him to smile a little. The drive to his place is comfortable and quiet…until you pipe up like your normal self.

“So what type of porn taught you that?”

[mx-maddmcgeeky]

<333!!!!!!!!! IM THE FUCKING UF PAP MONDAY POST YEAHHHHHHH!!!! I was just thinking.... What day is it.... OH!!

Just wanna say?! Though I never check consistently I am Always thinking about UF Papyrus Monday. I think 'man, is it Monday yet? I wanna see my guy...' and then get so busy with work come monday!!! So :) thank you for everything ig

Aaa that's so sweet of you to say!!! And also so real, he is Always on my mind as well ✌️😔

^ I'm showing him all the nice comments and things ppl have said about him, he is surprised and a little overwhelmed!

Special shout out in particular to @/fluo-skeletons for starting it all by wishing a happy uf papyrus monday randomly in that one server, if it weren't for that I would probably...well, I'd still draw uf papyrus too much but there wouldn't be an established schedule that we can celebrate together <3

[fayes-fics]

(Be)Longing

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Mutual rescue, mutual jealousy, longing and belonging.

Warnings: None, really. Angst, jealousy, fluff. Shyness and insecurities. Minor character injuries. Time jumps.

Word Count: 5.2k

Authors Note: This is an anon request fill here (request: Benedict x shy!insecure reader, with some angst, jealousy fluff, and all the good stuff. Happy ending, of course.). Sorry it took so long to get to this Nonny; I have no idea if this is what you wanted, and I'm really not sure about it, but I hope you enjoy <3

I: Saved

“Unhand her at once!” 

The smooth, confident, older voice rings out across the village green, and suddenly the pack of nasty bullies who have your arms in a grip seem to melt away from around you.

You don’t even think to pause and thank the person who broke up the mob. No, your fight-or-flight response is in full-on flight mode. The minute your arms are released, and you see the break in the circle, you run. Run as fast as your legs will carry you. Bolting down the road and into the safety of the churchyard near your house. You do not want to run home upset and worry your mother, so you do the next best thing, the thing you are becoming increasingly good at, hiding. You climb a crabapple tree. And then you let the tears flow—just flooding down your cheeks.

You hate this new village your parents have moved you to. Your father, a doctor, had been offered the position as village physician, and now here you are, moved from Surrey to Kent, but it might as well be the other side of the world. You miss your friends. You miss your old village. You are not the most outgoing of people, and the upheaval in your life has been immense. You yearn to be back in your old, familiar, comfortable home.

You are sniffling, taking deep breaths, angrily wiping tears, and preparing to face your family when he appears. 

“Are you alright?” 

You startle. Beneath you, squinting up into the tree, is the owner of the voice who rescued you. Seeing him now, you feel an odd warmth in your ribs. He looks older, maybe fifteen, if you had to guess. He seems benign with a calm face, and his expression is one of sympathy and concern.

“Yes,” you squeak quietly.

“It is safe for you to come down,” he says gently, “should you wish.”

“Are they gone?” you query, wishing you could hide the tremble in your voice.

“They will not bother you again; I can assure you,” he states with absolute certainty.

Your eyes go wide, “What did you do? I don't want to make it worse for my brother,” you fret.

“I told them if they mess with you again, they will have the Bridgerton brothers to contend with,” he nods, with an air that suggests the name is of some local import.

“Is that you?” you ask timidly, not wanting to get down from the tree just yet.

He chuckles. “You must be new here?”

“Yes… we just moved here two weeks ago. Those boys have been tormenting my brother since his first day at school. They appear to have chosen me to pick on as he is not around,” you frown, dusting a twig from your skirt.

“Well, that ends now. Now, do you need help down?” he asks.

“No,” you sniffle, “I am capable.”

“I wouldn't doubt it,” he nods politely and steps aside to allow you space to jump down.

With a quick swing, you do so, landing neatly on your little brown boots. You unfurl to your full standing height, but even then, you have to crane your neck to look up at him.

“Very impressive,” he smiles warmly. “I am Benedict. Benedict Bridgerton. Welcome to Kent.” he thrusts out a hand to shake and, bemused at the formality, you take it and shake as if a businessman, not a ten-year-old girl.

“Thank you, Benedict. I am y/n y/l/n. My father is the new physician,” you gesture vaguely over the church wall towards your home next to the rectory.

“Ahhh,” he nods in understanding.

“And thank you,” you curtsy.

“Whatever for?” he frowns.

“For rescuing me,” you clarify.

“Oh please, that was nothing,” he waves dismissively. “I cannot abide bullies. Or any injustice really,” his eyes appear briefly unfixed, and he looks thoughtful, as if what he said just occurred to him as truth. Then he shakes his head and brings his attention back to you. “You are alright, though, correct? Able to get home?”

“Yes,” you confirm shyly.

“Then I shall be on my way” he tips an imaginary cap at you that makes you giggle, and he smiles goofily before turning away and walking out of the churchyard.

A little part of your heart yearns to follow him, the boy with the hazy, kind eyes and the pleasing smile, who just made your transition into life in the area much more bearable. 

You and your brother are never bothered by that gang of boys again.

II: Envy

“Y/n, this is Miss Clarissa Worthing.” 

Benedict introduces you to the willowy blonde whose hand is looped through the crook of his arm.

“Clarissa, this is Miss y/n y/l/n. She will beat half of my family at Pall Mall once you can coax her out of her shell,” he teases delicately with a friendly glint in his eye that makes your heart flutter against your ribcage.

Clarissa nods in cool acknowledgement, then cranes her neck to whisper something, her lips brushing his earlobe, her regard for you already gone. You curtsy politely, smile weakly and scurry away, feeling clumsy and out of place, unsure of what else to say to this swan-like beauty. 

It's the summer after your fifteenth birthday, and he is back from his second year of university. It doesn't take much to deduce that this is the lady he is currently courting, accompanying him as she is to a garden party at Aubrey Hall. Jealousy clings to your skin like an invisible oily substance and taints your every thought.

Ever since that fateful day when he chased away your bullies, you have carried a torch for Benedict. The year after that incident, you sadly have to attend his father's funeral. Your own father unable to save the Viscount’s life. The forlornness on Benedict’s face as he stood there in the chilly church made your chest ache. You didn’t fully understand why at the time, but your impulse was to go up and wordlessly hold his hand. He looked so utterly unmoored and sad. You didn't, of course; you would never be so bold, but the impulse was so strong, a tingle on your palm that needed to touch him. It was all you could think about for days.

Over the intervening years, your soft spot for him grew with every encounter, the childish admiration morphing into something stronger, a deep-rooted longing. He always seemed to be the one who cared the most—about his siblings, his mum, and even the problems of the wider world. And as your body started to change and you began to feel differently about boys, your feelings for him had another layer of confusing complexity. His was the first face that popped into your head when your friends giggled about boys and talked of marriage. 

Even now, it seems ridiculous to entertain that he would ever pursue you… you are stuck in small village life, the daughter of a doctor, not from a noble family, and he is off in the world, experiencing things you have no notion of. And yet he is the only man you have ever met who intrigues you that way. The idea of marriage not being entirely abhorrent, provided it is to him.

And so you just watch—the perpetual wallflower. Watch as Benedict and Clarissa make the circuit of the party. Effortlessly chatting among various members of the Ton, looking like the picture-perfect young couple.

“Makes you sick, doesn't it?” Eloise’s dry tone pops over your shoulder. 

You smile at Benedict's little sister, just a couple of years younger than you and a kindred spirit at these events, mostly wanting nothing to do with them.

“She is very beautiful,” you offer politely, sipping your lemonade.

“She steals,” Eloise states plainly, making you splutter your drink all over your face and dress, the little immediate crowd of attention it draws to you mortifying. Luckily Benefict is far enough away and otherwise engaged that he does not see it. You are not sure you could live that down.

“That's a scandalous thing to say,” you hiss softly as you blush under the attention of a few strangers and furtively clean yourself with a serviette as best you can.

“Tell that to mother’s silk gloves,” Eloise volleys back, her disgust evident. Apparently oblivious to your embarrassing predicament or perhaps just uncaring of what others think. “She will be gone before the weekend is out, mark my words.”

You don't doubt it, knowing how spirited Eloise is. And how well she has her brother's ear. You know he will instinctively trust what she says as truth. As she marches up to grab his arm and pull him away, mostly, you wish you had more of her bravado, her fearlessness. While you agree with her outlook on many things, you are not built of the mettle she is—not one who draws attention. Still, you watch with a twisted, guilty, but victorious smile as Eloise pulls Benedict aside and has words with him. 

You never hear of Miss Clarissa Worthing again.

III: Jealousy

“Lord Boswell would be a wonderful match, my dear,” your mother smiles encouragingly, handing you a slice of lemon drizzle cake. 

You can't hide the curl of your lip at the mere thought. 

It's the morning after the first ball of the season, just after your twentieth birthday, and you are in the London townhouse your parents have rented for the season, awaiting any suitors to call. Less than three days into your first season, you want the merry-go-round to stop. A dizzying whirl of social engagements you feel unequipped to deal with, wanting nothing more than to be back in Kent, stealing into the grounds of Aubrey Hall with a good book. Perhaps even spend time with Benedict.

Just the very thought of him causes a flare in your belly. Since his return from his studies in Cambridge, he has seemingly moved to Aubrey Hall full-time, spending his days painting the Kentish countryside with hopes of establishing himself as an artist. You have spent more time together in the last year or so than ever before, often finding yourself reading quietly in the shade with Eloise as he paints nearby, his company always somehow a balm as much as a thrill. And it feels as if there has been a subtle shift in how he regards you, giving you the unbearable lightness of hope. Perhaps he sees you in a different light now that you have come of age, no longer the child you were. There have been some moments where he has looked at you and felt it, like a weight on your skin; even as you doubt many other things about yourself, you don't doubt there is something there—a most wondrous and perplexing development.

Your butler bustles in and announces something that makes your heart leap into your throat.

“Mr Benedict Bridgerton has arrived.”

Your mother's eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, giving you a sideways glance. A Bridgerton, even if not the Viscount, would be more than sufficient in her eyes. Especially one known so well to your family.

“To call on Miss y/l/n?” your mother asks, excitement evident in the breathy question.

“Oh no, ma’am, apologies. To see your husband. His brother, the Viscount, has dispatched him here to talk about some business in Kent,” your butler explains, somewhat apologetic as he realises the misconstrued intent.

Your mother’s disappointed face is only a match for your roiling stomach. 

Your father folds his newspaper and jumps up. “I shall meet with him in my study, Jenkins. Please show him there,” and with a nod to you both, he leaves.

It has been just two days since your presentation to the Queen. That had been a waking nightmare. Parading down a long hallway at the Palace to be presented to her majesty filled you with utter dread. All eyes upon you, your every move and inch of appearance judged, and you are certain you were found lacking. Your status is unknown in the Ton; your parents pushing you into the season, hoping for an advantageous match. But you feel they could tell from one look where you belonged—almost invisible, on the periphery, a wallflower. Quiet, reserved, bookish, watching more than participating.

“Lord Boswell is here,” your butler reenters the room moments later.

Your stomach clenches. Your mother can barely contain her glee. You are so confused; you barely spoke two words to the man as you danced the previous night. Your conversation skills were utterly lacking, and he seemingly could not find an engaging topic to broach. You were keen for the music to end so you could return to standing and observing. You cannot believe that awkward interaction would be enough to propel the man to call on you, having said so little to each other just a few hours earlier. And yet here he is, a bunch of flowers in hand and a slightly vacant smile. The fleeting thought of marrying such a dull person makes you mildly nauseated.

Your mother hurries to the other side of the parlour and leaves you to converse, wearing a happy, hopeful expression that you hate to dash. And so you stumble the best you can through small talk. He talks of the weather, his property, and his interests but never asks anything about you—as if he is a candidate for a job you are interviewing for. In some ways, that is perhaps accurate, but part of you yearns for him to show interest in you, not just talk incessantly of himself.

Just as you give up hope of escaping anytime soon, you startle as he lays a hand on yours on the sofa between you. You don't even hear what he is saying anymore, just staring at where his glove covers yours, not liking the sensation, wanting to claw yourself away and withdraw. 

Motion in the doorway makes you look up; Benedict is with your father. And suddenly, your heart is racing. Benedict looks taken aback; something sour in his expression you have never seen before makes you want to run to him and ask what is wrong. But you don't. You do the polite, reserved thing and smile.

“Mrs y/l/n, Lord Boswell,” he greets politely. “Miss y/l/n,” he adds, and you could swear he uses a different, lower register. Something inside you turns pulpy and ripe, blossoming just for him. 

Before you know it, he has taken a seat on the sofa facing yours, shooting you the tiniest of winks that could be an eye twitch, but you know him better than that—seeing the sparkle of mischief in his eye. Your parents seem to exchange nonplussed glances, uncertain why he has chosen to stay.

“Boswell,” Benedict begins, shooting the man his most impervious glance. “What of your qualities make you an ideal suitor for Miss y/l/n here?” he questions.

Boswell splutters and seems taken aback, clearly not expecting such an interrogation, especially from a man who isn't your father or brother. Benedict’s eyes are back on you as the man stumbles through an inadequate and entirely uninteresting response that you do not even listen to. Your whole focus is on Benedict, feeling unable to breathe.

“Hmmm,” Benedict hums as he ends, “and what have you to say about Miss y/l/n’s interests? Are they perhaps complimentary to yours?”

“I… I did not think to ask,” Boswell falters, his cheeks reddening at the faux pas.

Benedict looks almost disgusted. 

“You claim to be interested in providing your suit but ask nothing of what makes her the wonderful person she is?” he scolds, and your mouth opens into a little O of surprise. “Have you not asked her about her excellent marksmanship? How she can shoot an archery target better than anyone else within ten miles of Aubrey Hall? Have you not asked after her artistic skills? You see that cushion you sit next to? That is the work of her fair hand.”

You barely register as Boswell twists to look at the item and then at you; you have eyes for no one but Benedict as he continues, his voice loud and clear even over the sound of your heart pounding hard in your ears.

“Have you asked her about her love for literature and poetry? How she will correct you that it was, in fact, Guildenstern, not Rosencrantz, who enters first in the first folio version of Hamlet?” 

You duck your head and blush. That is precisely what you did to him last year, surprising even yourself with your boldness. And he remembers. 

He continues. “Have you asked about her love of animals? Perhaps you need to hear the tale of Mr Whiskers and how she was able to nurse the beloved cat of my sister Hyacinth back to health. You have not asked her of any such things?!?” his tone incredulous.

Even from the corner of your eye, you can tell that your parents’ faces are as shocked as Boswell’s. And suddenly, you recognise this as a Benedict Bridgerton you have seen before. It’s the one that comes out when defending those he loves against injustice or an unworthy opponent—the staunch guardian. 

“If you cannot find it in yourself to show such interest, I would hope she will entertain better suitors,” Benedict sniffs dismissively. “As a long-term friend, I cannot in all good conscience allow this young woman to be pursued by anyone unworthy of her,” he concludes cuttingly, his nostrils flare, and his lip curls just a fraction as his eyes flit to where Boswell’s hand still rests upon yours.

Even as you struggle through your jumble of thoughts about everything he has said, one question so singular strikes you. Is this is Benedict….. jealous?? Jealous of your suitor? Finding ways to cut into him with his precise knowledge about you? The thought seems so fanciful that you want to dismiss it, but the sliver of possibility it offers is exhilarating. Just the chance of it being true has you utterly undone.

You barely even listen as your father jumps up and, with some belated sense of defence, agrees with Mr Bridgerton and asks Boswell if perhaps he should take his leave and return another day when he has thought of more engaging things to ask of you. Every fibre of your being yearns to talk to Benedict somewhere private, but he gives excuses to leave as quickly as your chastised suitor is dispatched.

Boswell never darkens your door again.

IV:  Rescue

“Penny, for your thoughts,” Eloise smirks as she catches you staring into space on the terrace. Your cheeks blush, and you do not admit to where your thoughts had wandered—to her older brother.

“Will you come with me for a walk?” you ask, feeling the need to get away before you cross paths with the man who has occupied your thoughts more often than not of late.

It’s the week of the midsummer Hearts & Flowers ball at Aubrey Hall, and you are glad to have escaped the hubbub of the London scene and to be back in Kent for a few days' respite.

“No, I would prefer the company of Mary Shelley this afternoon,” she states airily, waving a book she holds.

So you set off alone, walking the grounds you now know so well. You are half an hour into your stroll, admiring the wildflowers along the eastern fringes of the grounds, not far from the village, when you see him approaching in the distance.

Benedict is riding his trusty horse and looks so majestic your chest constricts. Clothed in just a billowing white shirt and beige britches, you have rarely seen him look so informal. Or so very, very attractive. Your palms feel sweaty, and something stirs deep inside your body as you slink slightly into the treeline, hoping to remain unseen. A chance to merely observe this beautiful man, even knowing it is wrong to do so. To spy on him as such. Just as he draws close enough that you can see the flex of his leg muscles under the material, which causes all sorts of sensations in your body, a startled deer darts across the path and spooks his horse.

Time seems to slow as you watch his horse rear up and make the most terrible whinny of fear. 

And then your heart is in your throat as you watch horrified as Benedict loses his grip on the reins in surprise and is thrown violently backwards to the ground.

Bile rises in your throat as you see how his body hits the dirt path, unable to brace for impact. The air fills with a blood-curdling scream that you belatedly realise is your own, and before you know it, you are sprinting. Sprinting towards him. Your whole focus narrows to his body splayed on the ground, worryingly still, as his horse bolts away. Heart pumping wildly and adrenaline coursing through your veins, you pull up to him and skid to your knees.

He is still conscious but barely. Moaning slightly. 

“Do not move!” You bark, and even in his woozy state, he appears taken aback by your ferocity. “I mean it, Benedict!” you bite out as he attempts to move his arm.

He seems to mumble a noise of ascent as you try your best to assess any injuries, having learned some things from observing your father over the years, but you realise he needs proper medical attention. Where you are on the grounds, it’s closer to your home than Aubrey Hall.

“I am going to get my father,” you explain as calmly as you can, “for the love of God, Benedict, do NOT attempt to move until he gets here.”

A wan smile spreads across his face even as he winces in pain. “Hmm, fine. I promise to stay still,” he sighs, “....prefer to do it for the love of you…,” he mutters slurringly before he appears to pass out.

Knowing he has likely struck his head, you try your darndest to put what he said out of your mind. A head injury would be the only way to explain such a comment, even as you are praying he doesn't have one. 

Heart still beating out of control, and not knowing what possesses you, you lean over and press the quickest shyest of kisses onto his lips—pulling back a few inches before he can even acknowledge it happened.

“Don’t you dare go anywhere on me, Benedict Bridgerton,” you whisper fiercely, just in time to see his eyes pop open, hazy and clouded with something you have never seen before. It’s not the pain he is in, though. And it’s not confusion, amusement or even irritation. It’s something else, so blisteringly intense your legs want to turn to jelly.

“I won’t, I promise,” he attests, his tone rough, ragged.

There are a couple of seconds where all you do is stare wildly at each other, and then, with a reassuring squeeze of his hand, you take off running. You have never run so far and so fast in your life; fear makes your muscles work harder than they ever have before. It’s probably only a few minutes, but it feels like a lifetime.

Your parents almost burst out of their skins in shock as you barrel into the house, panting wildly, wordlessly grabbing your father's medicine bag, and he reflexively springs into action. 

You run to the stables and hurriedly hook up the long cart he uses when he needs to transport patients, and the look he shoots you is filled with concern.

“Who is it?” he asks as you climb aboard and direct him.

“Benedict,” you tremble, and there is a world of understanding in your father's eyes as he cracks the whip, and the horse jolts faster. 

Perhaps your adoration is less concealed than you like to believe, but at this moment, you only care about getting him the help he needs. You are grateful your father doesn’t ask questions as you speed along. 

And it becomes a blur as you reach the site, grateful Benedict laid still as you requested. Your father examines him and fires questions that are answered lucidly, tending to some immediate wounds and bandaging in places. Before you know it, you are helping your father with a canvas stretcher and insisting on sitting with Benedict in the back of the cart as your father takes the patient back to Aubrey Hall. 

Never addressing the fact that you grip each other's hands so tight that both of your knuckles go white.

V: Belonging

“You can come in.”

Benedict’s voice calls out, bemused as you vacillate in the doorway, not realising that he can see you in a mirror reflection. 

So at his invitation, you blush and scuttle into his room. Awkward, unsure what to do after your bold, daring, downright impertinent behaviour when he sustained his injuries. Part of you is hopeful he does not remember it.

It’s been two days, and he has made excellent progress under your father's watchful eye. The minute your father had pulled up at the house, you dropped your hold on his hand. And as word spread, it was a frenzy of activity that you found yourself superfluous to. The last you had seen was Benedict being carried inside for a more thorough examination.

Luckily, it turns out he has no lasting damage; his head was uninjured beyond a mild concussion. He is bruised all over, likely has some cracked ribs and has a sprained wrist, but he will be fine after some rest.

“H.. how are you?” your ask quietly, stilted, fiddling with your dress nervously.

“Much better,” his tone soft, “only because of you.”

You look up and meet his gentle gaze. “I merely did what anyone would have done,” you demure.

“Nonsense,” he counters, “you ordered me to stay still and await the doctor. If you weren’t there, I likely would have done myself additional injury being stubborn,” he points out dryly.

You don’t know what to say in response, so you change tack. “Is your horse alright?”

“Yes. Colin found him wandering around the wildflower meadow, munching on all manner of grasses. Never happier, completely uninjured,” he assures.

You nod, glad to hear the news. Then you allow the room to lapse into silence, unsure how to commence your profuse apology.

“I am very sor….”

He stops you with a bandaged hand held up.

“If you even begin to apologise for saving me, well then I shall be most vexed,” he chides, but there is no heat there, a lopsided grin tugging at his handsome features. “Besides, the more pertinent point of discussion is the fearless woman you can be when needed. The person you are becoming, when you allow yourself to, is quite something,” you bow your head as your cheeks heat at his praise. “I would have injured myself months before now had I known I would meet the creature who sits behind that cloud of shyness. Just look at what you did, taking change so very effectively,” he flatters then there is a pause. “Hell, even being brave enough to kiss me.” 

Your head shoots up, and your mouth falls open.

“Oh yes,” he chuckles, “don’t think I forgot that part,” His voice has lowered to a pitch that buzzes right through your being.

“I… I was worried I… I was going to lose you,” you stutter, “and I-I’m sorry that was terrible of me to take liberties like that. Please, please forgive me?” you beseech.

“It was not in any sense of the word terrible,” he disputes, “the exact opposite. There is nothing to forgive. But there is one way you can make it up to me…?” he hedges.

“Anything, please,” you beg, so hopeful of absolution.

He holds out his hands and gestures for you to perch on the bed beside him. Almost without thought, you do so, even as you feel your pulse speeding up. You have rarely been this close, and now you are transfixed by all the tiny flecks of colour in his iris and the hints of stubble around his jaw.

“Kiss me again,” he requests; a finger trails lightly over the back of your hand. “But properly this time. Give me a chance to kiss you back.”

You just gawp at him in utter shock, heart pounding again, just like it was that day. You don't move away. You can't. Rooted to the spot. Unable to stop staring at his plush bottom lip.

“You cannot mean it…” you stutter when you finally find your tongue, disbelieving.

“Does this seem like I do not mean it?” he argues ardently, and before you know it, he is sitting up and leaning in.

And then warm lips touch yours, and fireworks explode inside your chest. 

You feel like you are drowning in the very best way as your lips move together gently. Everything about the moment is sweet and light, but promising more, something tart that makes you want to climb atop him and crush yourself against him. Just as you feel the instinct to open your mouth to him, he pulls back, looking lost and found all at once.

“I need you to know something,” he begins, grabbing both your hands and placing them between his. “It pains me to see you ever doubting yourself or if you belong. You belong. Everywhere you go. You have so much to give to the world,” he states passionately.

“I… “ you falter, wanting to believe him, the version of you he sees.

“You do. Hell, you give me a reason to get up every day. To try. To be better. I would not be the artist I am now were it not for your words of encouragement as I painted all those afternoons.”

You are dumbstruck. You honestly didn't believe he was taking on board what you said. Mostly just encouraging him to follow his instincts when he seemed to doubt them.

“And now it’s time someone did the same for you. Be the encouragement you need. You deserve everything, y/n. And it would be my greatest honour to try to give it to you?” he adds, a gently loving smile lighting up his face. 

Your heart sings as you realise this is the declaration you have been waiting half of your life to hear. Before you can stop yourself, you launch yourself at him, this time being the one to demand a kiss that he happily obliges. 

“I have a question,” you state as your lips part, your boldness growing with every moment. “Mr Bridgerton, were you jealous when I had a suitor?” you tease, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

He chuckles and nuzzles your cheek. “My god, you have no idea.”  You cant help the victorious giggle, basking in the fizz in your veins.

“I suppose it was payback for Ms Worthing. She of the ironic name. She was never worthy of you,” you state passionately.

He laughs with a headshake. “Perhaps it is our ability to rescue each other that makes us so best suited,” he opines. “I do believe we may belong together,” he adds.

And you couldn't agree more.

In fact, you are never alone again from that day on.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

a 141 x reader where they realize they did hurt you after 'that thing'?

Ahhh yes I can do this! Thanks for the request!!

I'm getting over a bit of writers block. I hope these are okay!!!

141 + König × Reader Where They Hurt You During Sex

Warnings: mentions of sex, pain, mentions of discomfort, crying and swearing. -ends in fluff

Simon Ghost Riley-

Simon had a tough week. He had so much bent up aggression and stress that he was desperate to release. He found you in the shower, and felt his cock hardening in his pants. He was quick to discard his clothes and join you, and not long after, he was taking you from behind as the warm water beat down on his back.

Simon was pounding into you, setting a brutal pace you weren't used to with him. He was never particularly gentle during sex, but he was never aggressive toward you.

Tears sprung in the corners of your eyes, as each time his cock slammed back into you, it sent waves of pain throughout your body. You let out a small wail, and Simon had mistaken it for a sound of pleasure. "That's it, baby."

His grip on your hips tightened, and you let out a scream as the pain began to be unbearable. You choked out a small sob. "Simon! Stop!"

Simon immediately paused his movements, his cock ripping out of you. "Baby? Are you okay?"

You let out a small sob as the pain slightly lessened, but your insides still ached deeply, and the bruises on your hips began to form angrily. You didn't say a word as you just shook your head.

Simon's heart shattered as he quickly turned off the water and ran out of the shower to get a towel.

He came back quickly and wrapped it around you, helping you out of the shower. He pulled you close to him. His grip was tight around you. "I'm so sorry."

You leaned into his chest as you regained your breath and listened to his rapidly beating heart. "It's okay, Si."

"No, it's not okay. I shouldn't have gone that hard. I took my stress out on you, and I'm sorry." He rubbed soothing circles into your shoulder and pressed a kiss to your wet hair.

You pulled away and looked up at him with a small smile. "Simon. It's alright, I promise."

Simon picked you up bridal style and carried you to the bed, setting you down gently. You gave a playful protest, pushing at his shoulders. "I'm all wet, I'll get the sheets soaked!"

"I'll throw some fresh ones on later. Just let me hold you for a while." He murmured as he moved to lay behind you, pulling you into him. "I promise I won't ever hurt you again."

Johnny MacTavish-

Johnny had wanted to try a new sex position tonight, one he'd stumbled upon in his "research" when he was on missions.

He was on top of you and placed both of your legs on his shoulders as he began to thrust into you. The new position allowed him to go deeper than he'd ever been before, causing quite a bit of discomfort for you. Your legs began to burn from the stretch, and his cock was at angles that had your insides screaming. You let out a strangled cry, pushing on Johnny's chest slightly, and he stopped what he was doing immediately. "Babe?"

He pulled out of you and laid next to you, pulling you into him. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry."

You sniffled slightly as the pain began to fade, and shoved your head into Johnny's chest. "It's okay."

He enclosed his arms around you and peppered your forehead with kisses. "I'm so sorry, I should've noticed you were in pain."

"I didn't say anything. It's not your fault." You said as you began to thread your fingers through the hair on his chest.

He nodded slowly before pressing a kiss to your lips. "Let me order us takeout, I won't have you cooking for us tonight."

"Johnny, it's really okay. You don't need to, buy." You started before Johnny pressed another kiss to your lips.

"Babe, it's the least I can do. We can gorge ourselves on crappy food while watching that horrible rom com you love so much." He gave a cheeky smile before sliding off the bed to grab his phone.

"I don't know what I've done to deserve you Johnny. I love you."

"I love you too, babe. More than you know. Now, be a good pet, and let me make it up to you." He chuckled before dialing your nearest pizza shop.

John Price-

John had you bent over your ass firmly in the air as he forced himself into you from behind. He was eager tonight. It had been a while since the two of you were together, and he hadn't prepped you as well as he should've.

His cock was stretching you uncomfortably, and each time he trusted into you, there was a horrible stinging from your hole.

"J-John." You squeaked, your voice coming out hoarse.

John took it as a sign to keep going, and you let out a loud screech as he picked up his pace. Unable to get any words out, your hand flailed wildly behind you, and John immediately stopped. "Love?"

You let out a sob as he pulled himself out of you, the relief being immediate for you. Your breathing slowed as you regained your senses.

John was quiet, his eyes watching your every move. He felt horrible, his own needs had overshadowed yours, and now you were hurt because of it.

You laid down on the bed and brought your knees to your chest. "C'mere, John."

He shook himself of his self-loathing thoughts and pulled you into his arms, settling himself behind you. "I'm so sorry, baby. I was blinded by my own needs. I didn't think to check on you. Let me make it up to you."

"It's alright, hun." You said softly, hugging onto your husband's arms. "Just hold me and I'll be alright."

John stayed with you like that for hours, rubbing at your flesh softly and peppering kisses to your shoulder. He constantly whispered his apologies, and soft "I love you's" until you both fell asleep cuddled together.

The next morning, you awoke to the smell of eggs and bacon, John making it very clear he wanted to do what he could to make it up to you.

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

Kyle barely made it through the door before he'd jumped your bones. He'd been away for a week for some training and was beyond desperate for you.

He'd ripped off your clothing and hoisted you up so you could wrap your legs around his midsection. His kiss was bruising, and needy, a clash of teeth and tongue as he singlehandedly pulled down his pants, freeing his cock.

He'd shoved into you with fervor, pounding up into you, effectively fucking you up into the wall. You cried out as your legs tightened around his waist, egging him on.

He walked toward the couch and laid the two of you down rather harshly, and the back of your head smacked off the wooden arm of the couch. Your hand flew to your head and loud out a small squeal. "Ow!"

"Fuck! Kid, I'm so sorry." Kyle pulled away and crouched down to you to inspect your head. His heart sank as he felt a small bump forming already. "I was going too fast, I should've slowed down."

You looked at him for a moment before erupting in a fit of laughter. Kyle sat confused, watching as your body wracked from your giggles. "Y/N?"

"It's fine! It's fine." You managed to get out through your giggles. "Phew, never had that one happen before."

As you clearly didn't seem to be bothered, Kyle allowed himself to chuckle as well. "Are you sure you're okay? I can go get an ice pack."

"I'm fine, promise. I'd be better if you finished what you started." You threw him an overly dramatic wink and beckoned him closer to you.

And who was Kyle to say no? Not that he didn't insist on icing your head later. (He forced you to sit still for nearly 20 minutes as he iced your head, and pressed a half dozen kisses to your lips as an apology)

König-

You woke up with a wince as you rolled over in bed, your sides aching. You sat up in bed, waking König up next to you. "Go back to sleep, baby. Just going to take a shower."

You peeled your shirt off your body, revealing a slew of bruises lining your hips in the shapes of fingerprints. You hissed slightly as the movement caused your bruises to ache.

This was not missed by König, however, who was watching on from the bed in horror. Was he truly that rough with you?

"M-maus." His voice came out shaky as you turned to him. "I hurt you."

Your heart broke at the sight of him. It was clear he was on the verge of tears, as his bottom lip was quivering slightly. "It's okay, Kö. It looks worse than it is."

"Please, don't lie to me." He begged, approaching you slowly. "I hurt you."

You stayed silent, unsure of what to say. It truly did look worse than it was, and you wouldn't lie, and say that König wasn't rougher than usual last night.

He got to his knees in front of you and inspected the bruises lining your abdomen. He placed gentle kisses on each bruise before his eyes landed on yours. "Please forgive me, I didn't know I was hurting you."

"König, love, it's truly okay. I'm okay." You gave him a warm smile, but he shook his head. He walked past you and made his way to the bathroom. You could hear the rub running before you heard him call your name.

You walked into the bathroom to find him drawing you a bubble bath. He turned to you with a sad smile. "Water should be warm, climb on in."

He helped you into the water, before crouching down beside you as he watched you settle in the water.

"König, come in. It's alright, I'm not mad at you at all." You gestured to the tub with a warm smile. You knew he was beating himself up.

"I'm mad at myself, Maus." He looked down at his hands in shame. "I promised never to hurt you."

"König, get in here right now before I make you." You chuckled, trying to ease the mood. "Need my giant boyfriend to be a headrest for me."

He blinked a few times before looking up at you, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Of course."

He was quick to discard his clothes and climbed into the tub behind you, pulling your frame into him gently. "Ich liebe dich so sehr, Engel." (I love you do much, angel)

König spent the rest of the day attached to your hip. He'd insisted on making you a cup of coffee and toast and even went as far as pulling out your chair for you to sit down. He made certain he'd make it up to you, one way or another.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Ahh not one of my better ones, but I hope you enjoy!🫣🩷

[celestelunia]

I’ve been loving your fics so far! And I was wondering if you could write Jamil being poisoned/hit with a love potion and being all over gn!reader and they’re just kinda like really flustered (turns out the live potion only works on who ever the person already loves) so gn!reader confesses to Jamil once he’s back to normal! Ty!

Aw! Thank you so much! I'm glad you've been enjoying them! I've been having fun writing them lol

Sorry this took a while. Been slowly making my way through the list, but this is my first Jamil ask! I hope it came out okay and that you like it!

Warnings: None. Reader is GN.

"This....is just so weird...." You said as you sat on a cushion in the common area of Scarabia. A pair of arms were wrapped around your waist from behind as Jamil chin rested against your shoulder as he cuddled against your neck gently, causing you to blush.

"Ahahaha! I think it's cute! I've never seen him like this before." Kalim laughed with a grin as he placed his hands on the back of his head.

You didn't get all the details, but one moment you had walked into Scarabia to see your crush, and the next, he was suddenly all over you, showering you with affection.

Needless to say, you almost fainted on the spot at the sudden onslaught of attention from your long-time crush. According to Kalim, he had mentioned something had gone wrong in potions, and Jamil was hit in the face with a puff of dust and magic due to the mini explosion that was triggered by the event. Professor Crewel had mentioned that it would wear off in a couple of hours and to just look after him till it does.

Jamil had acted like nothing was wrong at first, and he seemed like his usual self, so Kalim figured whatever the professor might have been worried about was just a mistake.

That was until you walked into the dorm, and Jamil's personality did a 180! He turned into some kind of love sick puppy who couldn't keep his hands off of you.

"T-This isn't like him at all! I'm sure he is just being this way to me since I was the first one he saw when I came over! This isn't fai-ahhh!" You yelped when you felt Jamil warm lips against the side of your neck as he gave it a small kiss. Turning bright red, you had tried to free yourself, only to have your crush tighten his hold against you. This was torture!!

"Hmmm." Kalim hummed softly in thought as he paid no mind to your struggles. "I don't think that's right. He was with me the whole time and even saw a couple of students on our way back to the dorm, and nothing happened." He explained before pulling out his phone to check something. "We were trying to make a certain potion in class, but because I added the wrong ingredients, it completely changed the contents of the potion."

"So this is your fault?!" You yelled as you pointed at the housewarden who just laughed.

"Yep! I'm sorry!" Kalim grinned as he looked back at his phone.

With a pout, you huffed before looking back at Jamil, who was still happily cuddling against your shoulder. "This...isn't real, though. He wouldn't be like this with me if it wasn't for that potion..."

At hearing your words, Kalim looked up from his phone. He knew about your crush on his best friend, and you two often talked a lot when you were feeling down and frustrated about the situation. If he was being honest, Kalim thought you were perfect for Jamil. He needed someone like you in his life to balance him out. The housewarden paused for a moment as he debated on bringing this up. He really wanted you two to figure things out on your own, but maybe a little push wouldn't hurt, right?

"That's not entirely true." Kalim said as he watched you turn to look at him. "He only started acting this way the moment you showed up. The spell on this potion just amplifies feelings that already existed inside someone." He said with a warm smile.

At his words, your eyes widen. Was that true? If it was, that would mean...

At that moment, your whole face turned red as a puff of smoke appeared above your head as you were suddenly overloaded with this information.

Kalim grinned as he stood up from his spot in front of you. "He should be back to normal in an hour or so. Keep watching over him for me! Thanks, Y/N!" He said before heading off to give you two some alone time..

"Nooo! Don't you dare leave!" You had yelled, but it was too late as Kalim had disappeared somehow. How was he that quick!?

Over the next hour, you had managed to drag Jamil to his room, but he didn't make it easy. Having him being this clingy was killing your heart. As time went on, you noticed how Jamil was starting to get a bit woozy as you managed to get him on his bed in time before he seemed to fall asleep. Good. Maybe this was a sign the potion was exiting his system.

With a sigh, you pulled up a chair to the side of his bed as you waited for Jamil to wake up. At least now you had a moment to gather your thoughts.

If Kalim was correct, then that meant that Jamil felt the same towards you as you did him. Just the thought alone made your heart race! While Jamil did give you some special treatment from time to time, it wasn't really enough for you to figure out his feelings. He was a man who kept his cards close to his chest, after all.

Maybe you could be brave and finally open up to him about your feelings...?

After a moment, Jamil let out a groan as he slowly opened his eyes. Noticing the ceiling of his bedroom, he sighed before placing his hand against his forehead. He had a bit of a headache. What the hell happened? The last thing he could recall was doing potions with Kalim...

"You're awake. How are you feeling?"

At the familiar voice, Jamil's head snapped to the side to see you sitting next to his bed. Why were you here!?

"Y/N?" Jamil called out as he sat up in his bed. "What are you doing here?"

"I was asked to look after you. Do you remember anything?" You asked as you watched Jamil carefully.

At those words, Jamil frowned slightly, not liking how you asked. Why did he feel like something happened that he was missing? He didn't do something embarrassing in front of you, did he!?

Hearing his phone ding the vice housewarden reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Noticing it was a text from Kalim, he opened it to see a photo attached that made him almost drop his phone...

It was a picture of him with his arms wrapped around Y/N as he was basically cuddling with them from behind. 

What happened!? Was this real!? Feeling his face heat up, Jamil put his phone down before placing one of his hands over his face in embarrassment.

You, on the other hand, just watched as Jamil checked his phone before turning bright red. As you went to speak, you felt your phone vibrate, and as you pulled it out, you saw a message from Kalim.

"Jamil should be back to normal by now. I believe in you! You got this!" Was the text he had sent. In that moment, you got the feeling Jamil had received something from the housewarden as well.

"Jamil." You had called out as you got your courage together. When you saw him about to speak, you held up your hand to stop him. You were worried if he said anything that you might lose your nerve. "I like you." You had managed to get out.

At your words, Jamil froze up for a second before he suddenly turned his head towards you. His eyes full of surprise.

"I like you, Jamil." You repeated. "I know you have a lot on your shoulders, but it doesn't change that you're an amazing person. You're smart, a great dancer, and an amazing cook! I really love everything about you."

Feeling his cheeks warm up more, Jamil leaned his head back to look up at his ceiling. To think you would be the one to confess first. He really needed to step up his game...

"H-how about you stay over tonight for dinner? I'll make something special. Just for the two of us." He said before he looked back over at you with a grin. "Think of it as my way for saying sorry that you had to confess first."

At the offer, you blinked before you felt like your heart was going to explode. "Y-you really feel the same?" You whispered in surprise.

Jamil turned as he threw his legs over the side of his bed. "For a long time, but I kept finding excuses to not face this feelings. I shouldn't have put you through all of that. That potion mishaps just opened my eyes a bit more." He said as he made a mental note to give Kalim a lecture about being more careful in the future. He normally wasn't this open and honest, but he owed you that much after what he did to you. Maybe it was okay to be selfish for once.

"Come on." Jamil said as he gently poked your forehead before holding out his hand to you. "Let me treat you like royalty today."

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh as you stood up and took Jamil's hand. "Just be your normal self." You said happily as it felt like a weight had been lifted off of you.

To think a small mishap like this would work in your favor? You would have to make sure to thank Kalim later.

[runa-falls]

reciprocation

part 1 | part 3

pairing: best friend!steven grant x reader

cw: smut (18+), fwb relationship, PWP, face sitting, mutual-pining but their idiots so..., 69, cumming untouched, cum eating.

w/c: 3.4k of SMUT AHHH

a/n: ignore how this is suddenly typed with capital letters :0. THIS ONE IS FOR MY FAVORITE STEVEN ANON WITH THE 69 REQUEST FROM A MONTH AGO -- i'm sorry it took so long 🫠

also special shout out for @whatthefishh for reading over it like half-a-month ago 😭🙏🏻 i was going through a major writers block :^)

masterlist

----

“Are you sure about this?” You watch him warily from a few feet away, shifting from side to side.

Steven is laid back on the bed patiently waiting for you, hair fluffy and soft under him. You can tell he’s been thinking about this for a while now, eager to start. 

His voice is soft as he appraises the timid energy surrounding you, “I’m sure. I want it–you. I promise.” For once, Steven seems to be the least nervous between the two of you. You're not used to him being in charge or even initiating anything remotely affectionate, let alone sexual. “Do…you?”

You can already see the prominent outline of his erection pressing sweetly against the thin fabric of his sweatpants. No matter how loose and comfortable he dresses, he can never manage to hide his need for you. 

“I do, but I just… don’t want to accidentally hurt you.” You wring your hands together, still unsure if you should approach him. 

Steven looks at you with trusting eyes, “You won’t hurt me, darling.” His comforting words help you relax a little, almost making you forget what you agreed to, what you’re so apprehensive to attempt. He offers you a hand and you take it, letting him pull you closer and guide you onto his lap.

His voice lowers as desire drips from his lips, “Though, even if you did,” His dark eyes look up to meet yours, pure need bleeding through the gaze. You eagerly drink it in, body buzzing on top of him with flustered energy. “I think I’d be okay with it…” Your breath hitches.

You know it’s true. Steven has never shied away from pain; he even invites it in the heat of the moment. He likes to be under your control, letting you use his body to drive him crazy, even if it means teasing and denying him until he’s sobbing under you.

He loves seeing the possessive marks you leave when he wakes up in the morning, fingers ghosting over them as the night before replays in his mind, or feeling the residual sting of scratches down his torso when he takes a shower, letting the warm water draw out the sensations until he’s hard and aching for you again, and he has to seek you out, hoping you'll notice him.

You regularly get carried away, so desperate to have all of him, that you don’t even realize how intensely you devour his eagerness to please you. But Steven is more than happy to indulge your hungry advances.

He especially loves it when you soothe him after, lightly kissing each bruise and mark as you whisper sweet words, apologizing for how rough you got.

He takes it with a shy smile, basking in your affections and your gentle touch, sighing as he’s surrounded by your energy, by your undivided attention. 

Sometimes he likes to pretend like you're his, like you're doing this because you love him, not because you think you're being a good friend.

It's not hard for him to imagine it when he closes his eyes, especially when you're moaning around his cock or grabbing his neck to pull him into a desperate kiss.

But when it's all over, when he's pulling his jeans back on -- still thrumming with heat -- the spell breaks and you go back to being just friends.

Now, he's going to pleasure you. Make you feel the euphoria of his mouth, so you'll want him just as much as he wants you. This is his form of reciprocation for all the favors you've given him. And he hopes it will convince you that he'd be a good lover for you. That you could be more than just friends with him.

He lets out a hushed, “Please,” as he leans into you, enticing you to follow him and capture his lips hungrily.

Steven knows exactly what he’s doing when he uses that tone, that soft shade of himself that can bring you to your knees even when he’s falling apart harder and faster than you are. 

You moan against his pouty lips, feeling the softness, his gentle press, you pull him closer, eager to deepen the kiss. He lets you have control over him, merely following you as you slide your tongue against his, delicately tasting you, tenderly holding you by your waist.

Steven is always gentle with you, no matter how clouded his mind gets during these heated moments, no matter how lost in pleasure he gets or how desperately he needs you, he always handles you with delicate care.

You nip at his bottom lip, drinking in his soft mewl as you start to roll your hips against him. His grip on your waist tightens, holding you more insistently against him, letting you feel how desperately he needs you.

His lips are pink and plump when you pull away, parted ever so slightly as he stares between your bodies, working your body over him. His eyes are glazed as he cants his hips to chase the exquisite feeling of your soft center against him.

You tease him, lifting yourself just enough that he can’t grind himself against you. He whines when he can’t feel you anymore, gripping your waist with frustration.

“Love, please!”

You break the kiss and climb off of him, appreciating how ruined he looks from a few kisses and light grinding. He huffs out a breath in frustration, hands fisting with the need to touch you. To have you close.

You stand next to the bed, hair in disarray, fiddling with the hem of your large shirt to garner his attention. His bronze gaze soaks over you, flashing dark when it meets the short hem of your pajama bottoms.

“Your shorts, p-please, take them off.” It’s not a demand, Steven doesn’t make demands, it’s a request, a plea, one that you’ve heard time and time again, and have seldom refused. 

Your fingers find the waistband of your shorts and drag them down until they’re pulled the rest of the way off with the help of gravity. A breathy sigh can be heard under you when you step away from the pooled clothing, leaving you in an oversized t-shirt that barely brushes at the top of your thighs. 

It’s like he’s seeing you for the first time – he’s always like this.

His eyes sparkle as you shuffle closer to the bed. “Come’ere, darling.” He pats his chest, “Right here.” You timidly crawl over him, delicately straddling his chest, legs parted just above his ribs. Your knees pull in towards each other, trying to hide what your shirt can’t cover, but you don’t get far before warm fingers pry you apart. 

“Show me.” It’s a bare whisper, as light as his touch gliding over the outer sides of your legs.

You reluctantly let yourself relax on him, hands gripping his soft shirt, wrinkling the fabric. Heat prickles under your skin as he cranes his neck to look at you, lashes nearly brushing the tops of his cheeks with how lustfully heavy his eyelids are. He takes that moment to breathe you in, devouring every inch of what you’re offering. 

His touch disappears from your thighs, and you hear quiet ruffling behind you, then a broken groan under you. You look over your shoulder and spot his hand pressing desperately against his covered hardness. 

“S-Steven…” He doesn’t stop his actions when he meets your eyes, utterly shameless with his need for you. 

“Beautiful.” 

His breaths become heavy, and his chest moves deliciously under you, right against your hot center. You attempt to squeeze your legs together, hoping to abate the intensifying sensations, but you can’t, his chest keeps you spread, open, and quivering just for his eyes. 

Steven is barely touching you, but even the slightest hint of pleasure has you craving him.

You can’t help but close your eyes as you subtly shift over him, drinking in his soft grunts as he continues to touch himself under you. It makes you throb with heat. 

Steven watches you suck your lip into your mouth to hold in wanton moans as you experimentally slide against his firm chest, hands pressing into him to support your movements.

Your initial timidness crumbles as you roll your hips over him again and your head tilts back as you begin to lose yourself in the way your clit presses so perfectly against him.

Steven’s gentle voice cuts through the carnal fog infesting your brain and pulls you back to reality. “Sit up higher for me.” His hands are back on you, urging you to scoot up. “Let me taste you – L-let me fuck you with my tongue.” You press your dripping center to his shirt-covered torso with a soft moan, feeling the small spot right in between his ribs where you’ve soaked through. “Please, baby?”

You nod wordlessly, letting him guide your body until you’re hovering over his face. Your body shivers as you feel his warm breath brush against your center. 

It’s a bit daunting looking at Steven from here. His face is nestled right in between your thighs – which is not an unusual sight – but this time you are on top. You can barely see his eyes since your shirt is so big it practically drapes over half of his face. What if you suffocate him or break his neck?

“Maybe… we should rethi-” A gasp falls from your lips as strong arms pull you down to his face. “Steven!-” Without hesitation, wet heat laps at the seam of your cunt, greedily dragging over any slick that threatens to drip down your inner thigh. 

Your words are effectively stuck in your throat as Steven begins to eagerly nip and suck at your softness, drawing out deep whines instead of coherent sentences. You can only hold on to the headboard to support yourself, holding back your urge to grind against his supple lips. 

You moan as Steven tentatively nudges against your entrance, laving his tongue over the sensitive opening just to tease you. When he finally pushes into you, you have to hold yourself back from grinding against him like you’re riding his cock. He licks and thrusts his tongue into you, humming at your taste as you drip over his lips, down his chin. 

Your hips uncontrollably buck against him as his tongue flicks at your clit. A hand drops into his hair, tugging frantically at the ends before pushing him further against you, begging – no, demanding for more. He gets the memo and focuses on your most sensitive bud, delicately suckling it until your thighs are trembling by his ears. 

A ball of heat quickly blooms in your lower stomach and flushes under your skin. Familiar sparks of energy thrum up your spine, enticing you to clench around nothingness with promises of unspoken bliss and ecstasy. 

Calloused fingers lift you away from the molten heat of his mouth just as you were reaching your climax. You’re gasping for a breath as Steven holds you back from toppling off the edge. 

You can feel it, his breath, barely ghosting a sigh over your center, and somehow, even that slightest brush of air has you pulsing helplessly over him. He’s breathing as hard as you are, mouth glossy and plump as he stares back up at you, face flushed, and eyes glazed. 

Utterly pussy-drunk. 

Your grip on the headboard tightens intensely and your eyes roll shut. You can’t stop it. 

A stilted cry rips from your throat as your orgasm suddenly rushes over you in full force, crashing over you like a wave. Steven can only watch, lips parted in awe, as you shatter completely untouched right above him.

His fingers grip harsh bruises into the skin of your thighs as he feels himself throb dangerously close to his own euphoric end. You moan harder at the tender marks he paints on your trembling legs. The sharp feeling travels up your legs and straight to your center.

His hands rub your thighs comfortingly, apologetically, before he starts to drag his tongue over your messy center with a hum, doting on you with kitten licks that make you shiver. 

He cleans you up slowly and methodically, making sure to avoid your most sensitive area. Your body still thrums from your unexpected and intense orgasm, and his soft licks quickly become too much, even with how light and sweet he is being. 

You lift yourself away from his tongue, “S-steven…no more. It’s too much!” 

“You can do it again, darling…” He coos, trying to pull you back down onto his mouth. “Just one more. For me, please?” 

You're head is fuzzy as you steady yourself on top of him, gripping the headboard tightly to ground yourself from the lingering sparks of mind-numbing pleasure.

Steven groans as he watches you struggle to get a grip.

“C-can’t. It’s too much…” You get off of his face and sit next to him on the bed, squeezing your legs together to suppress the bout of overstimulation that almost overtook your senses.

You look down at him when one of his hands wraps around your thigh and squeezes, a simple act indulgence that drives you crazy. Your lips part as you take in the view. 

Puffy lips and glassy eyes, blown out with lust, meet your stare, begging you to climb back on, but you're still shaking where you sit. He's drenched in your slick from his chin to his neck and the collar of his shirt is soaked through, sticking sweetly to his chest.

Your eyes drift down to his sweatpants, to the prominent bulge that throbs under your gaze. He palms himself, whining lightly at the feeling of his neediness and desperation. He's so hard, begging for your touch without even saying a word.

“Okay, now it's your turn.”

His shakes his head, “No, I want more.”

“Steven…”

“Please, I want to taste more of you."

"But--" Your eyes dip down to his covered erection that you've been neglecting all night.

"Just...come back, we can do it at the same time if you want.” 

Your face heats at the implication. You don’t know why you’re so coy, you just came right above his fact. You've just never seen Steven like this: so insistent and hungry.

“S-sure, ok.”

You whimper when he eagerly tugs you closer, urging you to straddle his face again. Careful to not knock your knee into his cheek, you swing your leg back over his body, but this time you situate yourself so you can take care of him at the same time.

He immediately dives back in, tongue thrusting into your sensitive channel before you're even settled on top of him. You falter and almost collapse over him, hand grasping at the bottom of his shirt for support.

"Steven! Gentle, please!" You groan out, eyes already threatening to roll back as he continues to drink you in. He hums in response, but doesn't actually let up, if anything, he becomes more insatiable, suckling every stimulus point until you're shaking above him.

You struggle against your pleasure to pull his sweats down, freeing his cock from the restraining fabric. Your mouth waters as his tip weeps for you, spilling silky precum with every breath he takes.

You've always loved Steven's cock. How responsive it is when your breath ghosts over it and how it desperately throbs for you as you swallow around him. How perfectly it fits in your mouth and how deep it can fuck your throat when he allows himself to let go.

Sucking his cock was the furthest you allowed yourself to go. You convinced yourself that these one-sided interactions would keep you from revealing your feelings, that you could deal with the friends-with-benefits bit if you didn't have an actual 'relationship'.

So you deemed actual sex as too intimate and barred letting him touch you (you just weren't sure you could handle it).

But then one thing led to another...

You failed to reject his soft kisses and couldn't resist marking him up like he's yours. And now here you are barely able to handle it as he fucks you with his tongue, hands gripping marks into your thighs as his nose nudges against your wet center.

You don't know if you could go back to just being friends when he's given you unfathomable pleasure. When he talked to you like this. Looked at you like this.

You're a mess and you're struggling to hold on to your original plan.

You try to block these thoughts from your mind as your hand wraps around his cock, squeezing it gently just to get a reaction out of him. He groans against your cunt, movements stuttered as your touch distracts him away from his task.

You unconsciously sit up on your knees and lift your hips off of his mouth to get closer to his cock. Steven barely notices, too focused on holding his orgasm off as you diligently taste him, one lick at a time.

You drag your tongue up his shaft, licking the precum that slowly cascades over his silken skin. You feel his body quake as you lave and kitten lick against his tip, gently coaxing shortened breaths and whimpers with every touch.

You dip down to engulf him into your hot mouth, enjoying the slick feeling of his cock gliding easily against your tongue and the top of your mouth.

His hands frantically latch onto your upper thighs, unintentionally pulling you back onto his mouth as he squeezes at the softness, desperately attempting to control himself.

He has to actively keep his hips from snapping against your face, you just feel so sublime, so soft and hot.

Steven cries against your cunt when he reaches the back of your throat. He can't help it when he feels you struggle to swallow around him, so tight, wet, and hot. He's just so sensitive -- especially when it comes to you.

You keep laving your tongue against the underside of his cock as you suck him in, ignoring the your jaw begins to ache as you open wide for him.

"Uhh!" His stomach tenses under you and he twitches against your tongue.

He can't be cumming already...right?

Fingers grip into your hair and you're suddenly pushed down, forced to take him down your throat. You choke slightly, eyes watering, before letting yourself relax against him.

He's lost in pleasure, grinding and thrusting his cock into your mouth like it's your cunt, shoving it deeper than you're usually comfortable with and you let him.

Steven spurts warmth at the back of your throat. You try your best to swallow it down before it dribbles from your mouth and makes a mess. He whimpers as he fully lets go, thighs tense and trembling under your touch.

He's still cumming when he tugs you back onto his mouth, feverishly lapping through your center before taking your clit between his lips. You orgasm explosively as he avidly sucks you in, already half-way there from the mere feeling of him spilling in your mouth.

Even after he has emptied himself, he continues to gently fuck your face, not yet ready to leave your warmth. His hips stutter and his breaths become uneven but he ignores the overstimulation, too attached to this closeness, to this illusion of mutual affection.

He also continues to lick you clean, despite your whines of discomfort. He lovingly places gentle kisses against your inner thigh, wishing he could stay in this position forever.

He huffs out disappointedly when you climb off of him, even tries to lock his arms around your legs to keep you there, but you were adamant to get away from his insatiable mouth.

"One more?"

You gape at him, "Steven, we already did 'one more'." You shiver, suddenly cold without his body against yours. "What has gotten into you? I've never seen you so...horny before."

He looks at you sheepishly, "I dunno. I guess, once I got a taste I wanted more." He sits up, hand wiping your slick off his face. "How 'bout later?"

"You're already thinking about later?"

He nods, "I'm always thinking about you."

Your heart thumps painfully in your chest as blood heats your face. You try to ignore it. Try not to look directly at him. Try to pretend like he didn't just say that because he probably doesn't even understand the impact that his words have on you.

He's always thinking about your favors. That's it.

"Later, then."

[blue-jisungs]

4 soft thoughts.. maybe something like waiting at the dorm for Intak after theyve had practice? 😊😊

driving force

[ axe’s memo ! ] ahhh someone finally reqing for my boyfie intak anon ill kiss u on the forehead gently 🤲

[ extras ! ] a quick write on my phone, not proofread (the day i do is the day we celebrate)

intak desired nothing more than rest. actually, no, scratch that. he desired resting with you in his arms. he believed in you having magic powers that brought all his life force back after a tiring practice.

however, he knew you're busy. a small pout accomanied his features throughout the whole day ever since you texted him that you have to stay up late at work.

the boys went to grab some food but he wasn't in the mood and decided to go straight to their dorm. sluggishly opening the door, painfully slowly entering the dorm... everything was so halted whenever you weren't around.

immersing himself in the silence of the place, he took off his shoes and went to grab fresh clothes. then, he stepped into the shower. putting a playlist in the background and losing himself in the feeling of water washing away the tiredness, he didn't realize the faint sounds coming from the kitchen.

the kitchen, where you were giggling underneath your breath while finishing a meal for him. keeho texted you anout intak skipping the meal so you decided to save the day. and it so happened that you-

"huh?"

you turned around and saw intak with a towel wrapped around his waist loosely. water was dripping down his toned stomach and dark, wet hair was falling onto his forehead. you gulped and shyly looked up, catching a flash of proud smirk on his lips.

"am i hallucinating or...?" he grinned, slowly walking up to you.

you turned around quickly to finish decorating his meal.

"it turned out that i wasn't needed. in any other scenario i would be offended but i gladly took the offer to leave early" a hum left your lips as you felt his arms wrapping around you. his wet body instatly soaked your shirt but you didn't mind. you knew intak needed that hug.

he was like a puppy, needing to be glued to you at all times.

"i'm happy you're here" intak mumbled into your neck, clinging onto you as close as humanly possible. if he could, he would crawl and live inside your skin.

"me too. i need to recharge my dance machine, hm?" you grinned and put your hand over his that was resting atop your hip. he only hummed, not able to form a coherent answer "you need to eat first though, takie"

while he practically inhaled the food, you made the bed and grabbed pyjamas for the two of you. it was quite early but he seemed exhausted, his energy levels lower than usually.

before you realized, he was pulling you towards the bed with a pout on his lips. you plopped onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. the smell of his shampoo filled your nostrils.

"i hate when you're away for so long" he murmured into your neck, wrapping his hands around your waist. you leaned away for a bit, some of your hair tangling in his face. he brushed them away tenderly, pure love and adoration in his eyes.

"i know, 'm sorry. i need to tell my boss that my clingy puppy of a boyfriend needs me. that'll do the trick, hm? you teased him and placed a gentle kiss on his nose. that only caused him to roll his eyes.

"and you can't even kiss me properly" he grunted.

"my bad, you big baby" you smiled and fixed your position so you could kiss him more comfortably.

your kisses were quite literally intak's driving force. despite all the soreness and tiredness, he felt a rush of adrenaline in his veins once your lips merged with his in a sweet kiss. you both tasted like mint toothpaste but neither of you minded. what counted in that moment was your sole presence and shared love.

m. list <3

taglist. @primoppang ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @slytherinshua ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,,

@mon2sunjinsuver ,, @litepowee

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 20

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: non-consensual drugging (still not reader), still dealing with themes of medical trauma, boundary crossing, non-con theming (no SA, no hard R, just ... theming), brief mention of masturbation, angst (no comfort yet) wc: 3.4k

Chapter Selection

Eventually we parked, and Spoiler helped me out of Hood's grip. The man growled at her pulling me away, flinging himself out of the Batmobile to follow. He landed hard on his knees and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me close again.

He roared; “MINE!” And soon his helmet was pressed into my hip, his fingers digging in to my thighs. He trembled against me, breathing hard. Nightwing parked his bike, setting my helmet on his handlebars before turning toward us. Red Hood growled at him as he approached, and I blushed a bit, frowning. What on earth had I done to make this guy so territorial over me? Or was it all the pheromones?

Spoiler sighed, pointing to some seating at a long table. “Well, if you can get him to chill out a bit, you can have a seat over there. Just don't touch anything.”

I nodded, resting a hand on Hood's shoulder and pushing back a little. “Mr. Hood, you're squeezing too tight…”

He whined, releasing his grip a bit. “Ahhh … s- sorry … sorry, sorry, sorry….”

“I- it’s ok. … Come on, let's go sit, yeah? You can't possibly be comfortable down there?”

He let me coax him to stand, but as soon as I took a seat he flung himself onto the floor in front of me again, nuzzling into my knee now. I shrugged, patting the top of his helmet; at least he wasn't pressed so close to my crotch anymore…

Batman took a seat at a giant computer, pulling up reports and speaking with someone called Oracle. I didn't pay attention; I didn't want to know anything I didn't have to know here. I slipped my phone out of my pocket, but there were no responses from anyone yet. No Jason, no Dick, not even Steph…

“Alright, B, where is he?” A familiar voice snapped me out of my thoughts, and I looked up.

Red Robin had a small metal case in his hand. He looked over toward us, a determined look on his face. The fingers of his gloved hand slid across his face as we made eye contact and he realized he didn't have a domino mask on.

“.... Tim?!?!” My voice sounded shrill to my own ears. Batman's typing stopped and he slowly turned to stare at us.

“Shit!” He spun on his heel, clearing his throat. In a deep voice, he called out; “um, no…?”

“.... You came in here without a mask on?” Batman grumbled quietly.

“No one told me she was here!? Why did no one tell me she was here??? We never wear masks in the Cave!” Tim rambled animatedly. He turned on Nightwing, shouting; “you should have told me!”

Nightwing frowned; “I told you I had to get her to wrangle him into the Batmobile, I didn’t think I needed to spell it out for you that that meant she was coming here!”

My eyes snapped onto him, really taking him in for the first time. I sighed softly, “... Dick?… the easiest way to get me to open my door would have been to answer my goddamn text!”

Dick shifted awkwardly. “Um … oh fuck it,” He took his own mask off; “… I don't have my phone on me. Do you see pockets in this thing??”

“I'm not looking for pockets!” I blushed bright red, looking away entirely.

“... Well, since you're already figuring it out …” Spoiler slipped her mask off, smiling brightly at me. “Nicely done out there! Pound it!”

She held a fist out to me. I blinked a bit and giggled erratically, shakily fist bumping her. “Thank you?...”

“Father! Duke stole one of my cookies while we were fighting Freeze! I had 30 cookies here, now I only have 29!” Damian shouted from the other side of the room.

“... No.” I whispered, slowly turning to look. “No, no, no…”

Robin was storming down the stairs toward us, clutching my tupperware to his chest; the tupperware I had filled with Damian's ma'amoul cookies. He had an irritated little sneer on his face, a very Damian expression. At the bottom of the stairs he looked over, finally seeing me, and froze.

Tears filled my eyes as I choked out a laugh; “no… I'm not seeing that. … That's a hallucination or something, … c- cause I know … I know none of you are stupid enough to let Damian put himself in danger like that!!!”

He looked between me and Batman for a moment before running back up the stairs. With a flutter of his cape, he was gone, and I was left staring at the spot he’d once occupied. Red Hood shifted at my feet, trying to get closer to me again. I slowly looked up at Batman, typing away at his computer, and down at the man nuzzling into my lap. Only two left … and something told me they wouldn't have brought me out to get Bruce into the car.

Trembling, I gently rubbed Hood's shoulder. I could barely hear my own voice over the sound of my blood pulsing in my head; “.... Jason,” he perked up, sighing happily, “... You can take your helmet off now, sweetie.”

His arms shot up to comply. He fumbled for the latch, and after a moment he managed to remove it, throwing it across the room. I flinched at the sound echoing throughout the cave, and slowly looked down at him. Jason's pupils were dilated so wide that there was barely any color visible at all. A thin layer of sweat clung to his flushed skin, and his hair was a mess. He beamed up at me, clinging to my legs. My hands slowly made their way into his hair, fluffing it up the way he liked it, and a deep grumbling moan rippled out of his throat. He leaned into my hands, tilting his head to press kisses to the fleshy part of my palm, and squeezed my knees tightly.

“... What exactly is happening here?” I whispered.

“... We think Mr. Freeze’s experiment was meant to make the victim more compliant. When Ivy’s pheromones are in your system, you’ll do anything to … scratch the itch. So if he used them as a base for some kind of obedience serum …” Dick shuddered; “Small mercies though; it’s not nearly as effective as he meant it to be. It’s not terribly hard to resist, unless you … already want to obey the person.” I clenched my jaw.

Steph nodded; “He didn’t fully understand what he was messing with. No one does when it comes to Ivy’s pheromones, except for Ivy. And now we think the pheromones are fighting back against whatever he did, trying to return to their natural state, so …”

“So there’s a chemical imbalance war-zone going on in Jason’s body right now?” I sighed softly, stroking his cheek. Jason looked up at me with a type of unwavering adoration that made me a bit sick. It was like he wasn’t home; like something was puppeteering his body. All of his usual walls and boundaries had been turned to rubble to make space for this thing in his body to do what it pleased with him… “And you used me to control him against his will…”

“... It was necessary. He needs to be cured before the experiment gets any more unstable in his blood and does who knows what to him...” Dick frowned.

Tim nodded. “I need to get a blood sample…”

Jason either didn’t hear him, or was so far gone that he didn’t care. But I wasn’t about to let them surprise him. I made a promise, after all. I gently stroked Jason’s cheek, looking into his eyes; “... Jason?”

He moaned happily, pressing in closer. “My love~”

I could feel everyone around us cringing. “Honey, Tim needs a blood sample, is that ok?”

Jason’s eyes shifted in and out of focus as he whined, squirming. “.... Don’t like needles…”

I nodded slowly; “I know. I’m so sorry, sweetie. But it’s important. We’ve got to make you all better…”

“Better?” He blinked a bit. “... Am I … not good …” He whimpered, suddenly gripping me very tightly.

“H- have I done something wrong? I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’ll be good! Please, le- let me be good for you! I can! I can be so good! Y- You can have the blood! I’ll be good, please!” He gasped, tripping over himself trying to get closer and closer. His hands gripped everywhere, mindlessly pulling me out of my chair and into his lap, desperate to be pressed together.

“Ah! Jay!” I pressed on his shoulders, blushing bright red. “Jason, honey, it’s ok. You didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Please, let me be good for you! I wanna be good! I’ll make you so happy, I promise! I’ll do anything, I promise, I promise, I PROMISE!” He screamed, tears cascading down his cheeks, his fingers digging firmly into my ass.

“Ow! Jason, stop!” He froze, looking up at me desperately. I slowly slid his hands off my ass, letting him hold my waist instead, blushing bright red. “... Jay, … we need this blood sample. … Would you be more comfortable if I did it?”

He nodded quickly, eagerly agreeing; “yes! Yes, anything. Anything you want, you can do anything you want! I’ll be good for you~”

I sighed, clenching my jaw. I felt disgusting; how was Jason going to feel about this when it was all over? Was I wildly overstepping here? I didn’t have time to dwell on it; Tim stepped forward, pressing the syringe into my hand.

“Have him roll his sleeve up.”

Jason did whatever I asked, always accompanied by eager cries of; “yes, anything! Anything you want! Anything! I want to be good!” My stomach churned unpleasantly with every word.

As soon as the sample was done, Jason was gripping my thighs, pulling me close. “I did good? I wanna be good for you~”

I pulled him into a tight hug, pressing his face into my shoulder so he couldn’t see the tears filling my eyes. “Y- yes, baby. You did good. Thank you…”

He sighed happily, the desperation easing out of his grip, nuzzling into my neck. My arm went limp, I could barely feel the cool glass vial in my hand. Tim grimaced and took the sample from me, hurriedly tidying away the equipment. Batman continued to work at his giant computer, seemingly ignoring everything happening behind him. Dick and Steph offered me awkward smiles.

“You did good too,” Steph offered weakly.

“Don’t say that. Please, just … don’t.” I sighed. I hadn’t done good here. I had used whatever Mr. Freeze had put in my boyfriend’s body to manipulate him into letting me do something he would never have been comfortable with otherwise. It didn’t matter that it was necessary, or that he seemed fine with it right now, it didn’t even matter if it saved his life. I knew I had seriously crossed his boundaries. I knew he would have a hard time trusting me again when they got him cured, and I would deserve it. Hell, if he broke up with me after this I would deserve it…

I sniffled softly, trying to keep it together. Whatever else was going on, I needed to keep it together for Jason’s sake. He could be angry with me later, and that would be fine, I would deal with that then, but for now, he was happiest and calmest in my arms. Every time I shifted he whined, desperately pulling me closer again.

“... You're not happy… what can I do?” He whined, stroking my thighs.

“Nothing right now, baby. You're perfect just as you are.” I stroked his hair, trying not to cry.

He purred softly, pressing kisses to my throat and shoulder. “Wanna make you feel good… my pretty girl~”

I blushed bright red, grateful when Dick and Steph walked away. “... N- not right now, sweetie. Let’s get you well first…”

He whined, licking my collarbone; “Mhhh. …. Please … want you …. Wanna make you feel good~ I’ll be good for you, please~”

I shivered, gently pushing him back. “No, Jason. We aren’t doing that right now.”

He whined more, looking up at me; “whyyyy?”

“... Because you don’t want that right now, baby. I know you think you do, but that’s just the pheromones.”

He nuzzled against me, sniffling. “... You don’t want me?”

I chewed on my lower lip, glancing at Batman. He seemed determined to pretend nothing was happening over here, so I leaned in, whispering; “of course I do, my love. But not like this.”

He tilted his head toward mine, trying to get a kiss, but I pulled back, running my fingers through his hair instead. He turned to kiss my palm, whining; “... don’t you love me?”

“I love you very much.” My voice cracked sharply.

“Promise?”

“I promise, I love you with all my heart.”

He pouted a bit, kissing and nuzzling my hand. “... It hurts …”

“What hurts, baby? Did you get injured in the fight?” I cupped his cheek, gently moving his head a bit to look for blood. He clung to my wrist, spreading his knees a little and pressing his hips forward. “... Ah … I’m sorry sweetie …”

He whined softly, kissing my knuckles. “Please … help …”

I groaned softly, chewing on my lower lip. I turned toward Batman, frowning. “Um … should he ….?”

Batman looked over his shoulder at us. “It won’t fix anything, but it would alleviate the discomfort for a time.”

I nodded slowly, stroking his hair. “Ok, why don’t you go do that then honey?”

He frowned, confused, and tugged my hand; “... with you?”

“No, you go ahead, I’ll be right here.”

He whined sharply, shaking his head. “Want you!”

I sighed softly, cupping his cheeks gently. “My love, we are not doing that right now. I’m sorry, I know it’s uncomfortable, but I will not do that to you in this state. Do you want to go take care of it by yourself?” He shook his head, whimpering softly; “then I need you to be very brave for me, sweetheart. Can you do that?”

He slowly nodded, clinging to my wrists. “.... ok…"

I kissed his forehead, stroking his cheeks. “Thank you sweetie~ You’re doing so well; Oracle and Tim are almost done making your cure, just hold on a little longer…”

He sniffled softly, letting me sit in my chair again and resting his cheek on my knee. “... You really still love me?”

“I really still love you.”

“... Even though I lied to you? … I lied for so long …”

I chuckled softly. “I don’t feel lied to. We’ll talk about it more later, after I’ve had some time to process. Ok?”

He nodded, clinging to my leg. “... Are you gonna leave me?”

“No, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

“... You promise?”

“I promise.” 

Once Jason was sedated, and the cure Oracle made -Babs, I had to remind myself- was starting to work its way through his system, Bruce led me to his office so we could talk. There he told me a very long story; Dick, Babs, Jason, Tim, Steph, Damian, Cass, Duke. One by one they took on hero personas, some under Batman's tutelage, some on their own. They had all been so young when they started, seeking justice, or vengeance, or security. Bruce smiled a little when he told me how Jason had always insisted that being Robin made him magic. That smile disappeared quickly, and I learned how Tim implanted himself as the third Robin when that magic was snuffed out by the Joker's hands. They came together for different reasons, but there was one thing consistently linking their stories; tragedy, which led each of them to the BatFamily.

“... Obviously none of us wanted you to learn these things this way. … Jason meant to tell you himself, he just-”

“Couldn't find the words.” I finished numbly. “... I understand that.”

Bruce nodded, watching me across his desk. “... Are you alright?”

“... I … I knew that there was bad shit in Jason's past. I knew it would be hard to hear. … But … He’s so loyal to you, even when he’s frustrated by you, I … I really thought you had saved him from the worst of it … but you didn't. … You supplied it.”

Bruce stilled, taking a slow breath. “... I did what I could for him-”

“You taught those children that they could be heroes. And then you allowed them to dress up like fucking traffic lights, and pointed them at psychopaths and murderers. …” I slowly looked up at his face, my vision blurring with tears; “they were children, Bruce. … Your children. … You had one job when you took them in; to protect them. … Joker may have pulled the trigger on Jason's life, but you painted the fucking target on his back. … He was a child, a child you took in off the streets. You were supposed to give him comfort and safety, not hand him on a silver FUCKING platter to the FUCKING JOKER!!!”

I shrieked; rage and sorrow bubbled in my chest like a poison, and I threw myself out of the chair. I couldn't sit still. I had to move, had to scream, had to do something! I found myself pacing the room, unable to stop the tears that ran down my face; “do parents not even FUCKING try anymore?! Why are everyone's parents so fucking terrible???!? Why can't anyone do this one SIMPLE FUCKING THING?!?! Just protect your kids!!!! Let them BE kids!!! It's not that FUCKING HARD!!!!!!” 

I tripped over the edge of a rug and landed hard on my knees and face, screaming at everything and nothing. Strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me against a broad chest, and I vaguely heard Dick murmuring, trying to soothe me. “... Y- you had… o- one … fucking … job …”

Dick rocked me gently as I sobbed. We sat like that for a long time before Bruce finally responded in a quiet, broken voice; “... I know.”

Dick stroked my back gently; “... You've had a long night. I know, I know this is a lot. It feels like too much right now, but it won't feel like that forever. … Why don't I take you to a guest room so you can get some sleep? You'll be ok in the morning, and so will Jay.” He smiled weakly, like he was trying to convince himself more than me.

“... No … nothing will ever be ok again…” I whispered.

“... Come on, let's get some rest. I promise, things will look better in the morning.” He helped me up, leading me toward the door.

I paused in the doorway. Damian was in the hallway staring up at me, changed into casual clothes, that same guarded expression in his eyes that always meant he was bracing for something. I could feel my heart breaking all over again; he was so little, and it was so unfair. I turned back to look at the man hunched over his desk, narrowing my eyes a bit; “... Bruce?”

He slowly raised his face out of his hands, looking up at me. His eyes shone with unshed tears. Good.

“... Have you ever considered the idea that, if Gotham's safety can only be bought with the blood of children, … Gotham might not be worth saving?”

I didn't wait for an answer; nothing he could say would make me feel any different. He had offered up half a dozen children to live and die for the supposed safety of our city, and it meant nothing. They died, and came back, only to have to keep fighting the same fights, night by night.

Images of the scars that littered Jason's body flooded my mind. How many scars had branded the young Robin's flesh? How many were earned as the Red Hood? Did it even matter? They were both Jason; Jason who threw himself into harm's way without a second thought, taking those scars, because it was all he knew. It was what he thought he was for. Jason, who deserved so much better, but never got it. Jason, who's father knew who murdered him, but did nothing about it. Not for him, not for the next kid, not for the city. The Joker murdered Robin, and the Batman let him live.

Next ->

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Taglist (open): @jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules @phoenix666stuff @dinonuggysandhuggus @anuttellaa @whore-of-many-hot-men

[hellhazbinstuck]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do some angst with the hazbin hotel characters? Like we get into an argument and they yell and notice we went silent, looking as if we were gonna break down into tears, IM SORRY I JUST LIVE FOR ANGST AHHH

Hazbin Hotel characters making their S/O cry

Alastor

He was preparing for tomorrow night's broadcast when he heard the door open.

He had been working on his radio broadcast and hotel things for the whole day. He was under so much stress and took it out on you.

"Darling, you know I've been in here all day. Is it that difficult to knock?! You know these things are important! Why must you interrupt me?!"

He didn't get an answer. You just slammed the door and ran out.

He felt terrible as soon as he saw sadness in your eyes.

He ran after you and hugged you, rubbing circles on your back and telling you how sorry he was.

Lucifer

He was very pissed at how much Alastor and Charlie got along.

He was working on his rubber ducks, not hearing you walk in.

He didn't know you were in the room until you hugged him from behind.

"What? What is it now?!" He shouted, dropping his rubber duck to the floor.

"Could you leave me alone for five minutes when you know I'm busy?!"

"Wow, fuck you!" You said before slamming the door and using your powers to get to the hotel.

Alastor opened the door to see you crying and brought you to the couch, giving you a hug.

You barely got the chance to finish telling Alastor what happened before Lucifer ran to you, crying and apologizing.

You were able to talk things out and agreed to be more open about feelings.

Sir Pentious

Pentious was working on a new invention. But, since he was trying to get redeemed, it couldn't be for evil.

He was trying to build things to help with the hotel. Right now, he was making something to lift Niffty up around the hotel.

You were trying to help while also keeping the egg bois under control, not realizing you were distracting him.

"Will you please stop already! You're supposed to be watching them, but you're just as annoying!!"

You had tears in your eyes as soon as you turned around.

"Fine!" You yelled before running off.

"That wasn't very nice, boss. You should apologize."

When Pentious saw you, you were sitting on the couch by the TV with Charlie hugging you.

"Y/N, may I speak with you? I would like to apologize."

You silently nodded, standing up next to him.

"I'm sorry, my dearest, can you ever forgive me?"

"As long as you promise to tell me what's wrong and how to properly help in the future."

He pulled you into a hug and wrapped his tail around you.

Husker

The bar was open way later than usual because Charlie decided to have an open house for the hotel.

Free drinks were pretty much a necessity when you're trying to lure in sinners.

Husk seemed fine/ his usual brand of grumpy.... Until he saw you talking and laughing with some guy and pulled you into an empty hallway.

"What the fuck was that? Did you really think I would be too busy to see you flirting like a whore?"

Even with tears in your eyes, you could tell he's been drinking vodka straight.

You pushed him away from you.

"That's my cousin, you asshole! He was asking me about the hotel."

You ran away, going right to the room you shared with Husk and trying to go to sleep.

Husk spent the rest of the party drinking water and eating a few snacks to fight the future hangover.

When you woke up, Husk had his wings and arms wrapped around you. He didn't even bother trying to sleep.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I was such an idiot and I hurt the best person who's ever been in my life. I freaked out about seeing you with someone else..... because I know I don't deserve you, and I don't want to lose you."

He was crying into your shoulder, and you pulled him into a hug.

"You couldn't lose me if you wanted to. Just remember, I love you more than anything, and I'd rather die again than lose you.

(A/N : This sucks ass and I'm sorry this took me so long. I hope you like it, though. )

Requests open

[pearlzier]

hiii! i hope you’re having a good day/night ^_^ i was wondering if you could wirte either sam or dean winchester with a bimbo reader!! smut or fluff i dunno ahhh TY!!

☆ ┆.ᐟ ᰍ ︵ this took me so long m'so sorry ml !! ۫ .

☆ warning ; tad bit suggestive i mean. it's dean ,,

“pass me the fuckin’ uh..” dean ran his hand through his hair, crouched beside baby. it was a one in a million day where dean had no shit to do, so he found himself doing checks on baby even if she was in perfect shape. doesn't mean he can't check in on his girl, whilst his girl is sat on the precariously stored chair. yeah, he'd told you if you fell he'd absolutely laugh at you however he knew full well that he'd literally perform an act of magic on you to keep you safe.

“uh, screw driver?” you bat your lashes at him, legs rocking as you typed on your phone, snorting out a laugh at the emoticon that charlie had sent you. of course, you liked to help dean out. but the weather was so good, and the sun was good for your skin, or so that forum that you read at the library when you went with sam said. also, you and charlie had a lot of gossip to catch up on, so.. you weren't on your game as much as you usually were.

a soft laugh slips past dean's lips as he shakes his head, looking back at the toolbox in your lap. you watch as he gets up, his hands a little stained with car oil, which in fact, does not suit the white colour of your babydoll top, clinging to the curve of your chest. which dean took much pleasure in, but besides—so you squirm back a little when he comes closer, “dean, you cannot touch me with your hands like that, i love you, but no—”

“relax, sweetheart, just tryna get a wrench,” dean teases, “can't a guy get a wrench? jeez,” he raises his hands teasingly before he carefully grabs a wrench from the tool box. not before swiping his thumb over your nose which causes you to squeal, and he quickly makes his way back to baby before you can retaliate.

“dean!” you gasp, rummaging for your pocket mirror in the pockets of your baby pink hoodie, finding it and soon looking at yourself in the mirror. a little smudge of darkness glistens on your nose and the pout you give dean makes him cackle a little.

“c'mon, it adds character, don't you think?” he does a little tinkering under the car, to which you have absolutely no clue what he's doing. did you want to know? no, not really. you wanted to know why you had oil on your nose! you knew why, but why dean did it was a mystery, and you huffed.

“you'll know what character is when i'm done with you,” you mumble back sassily, giggling when you see the surprise fill dean's gaze. so, he rises from where he is, and saunters his way back over, having used a rag to wipe down his hands so you wouldn't throw a little hissy fit.

“is that right, hm?” his green eyes lift to yours, and leaning against the chair, he bites his bottom lip. hell, he likes when you get fiesty with him. “gonna show me character?” his low, gravelly voice cooed softly as his hands brushed over your sides.

this knocked you down a few pegs, because to be fair, if your bombshell of a boyfriend is speaking like that and holding you like this, well, who isn't gonna get a little flustered. “uh—yeah, character.” you do notice how his eyes flit down to your cleavage for a vague moment, and you speak up, a little uncharacteristically but in a way dean adores—“eyes are up here, deano.”

a groan slips past his pink lips, and you soon find his green, piercing eyes hooded and looking up at you. “tease,” he mutters under his breath, and a flush dusts his skin that he never expected to happen. “think i know where your eyes are, doll, just enjoying..” he traced a finger over the lace containing the spill of your tits, “the view. know you're enjoyin’ mine.”

you thought he wouldn't notice! you'd been staring at him for a while now, considering the fact he'd blessed you with the sight of not only his arms in a tank but sweats? your man was a slut, you couldn't even deny it. “dean, stoppp,” you mumble, getting a little heated as he brushes his fingers over you. “shut up.”

he pouts playfully, pressing his forehead gently against yours. lifting his thumb to your glossy lips, he pulls it gently before letting it go, a giggle slipping past his lips. “now you're being mean, pretty baby,” his hands slide down from your chest to your thighs, squeezing them gently. “mean to your ol’ dean?”

you push at his chest playfully, tapping your acrylics against his chest with a little laugh. this causes dean to dig his fingers into the meat of your thigh a little and pull you against him. “you were bein’ mean to me first, dean!” his brows raise, “you know exactly how. oil? nose? coulda’ gotten it on my top!”

he rolled his eyes at your behaviour, it's not like that top was expensive anyway. you two got it when dean had literally stolen 20 dollars from a wallet he found on the floor this one time. but that's besides the point. “can always get you a new one,” he shrugs his shoulders, flashing the signature winchester smirk. “kinda always been itchin’ to rip this one anyway. doesn't do that body justice.”

“dean,” you two were literally outside the motel, you couldn't do anything like dean was absolutely suggesting. and judging from the way his hand was sliding up under your skirt to cup your ass, well, he was suggesting a lot. he gives a gentle squeeze, growling softly before he lifted you up off of the chair, causing you to squeal. “dean!”

he swung you over so you'd sit on the hood of the impala, watching as your little skirt hiked up. a grin played on his lips and he sighed softly. “how'd i get so lucky, huh?” dean lifted ring clad fingers to brush the side of your face. “grumpy hunter like me.”

“fine ass hunter like yourself,” your retort was instant.

“i didn't say it, you did, so it ain't braggin’,” dean wiggled his eyebrows instantly, drawing you impossibly closer as his hands groped at your thighs gently. he was clearly a big fan of your body.

“dean, there are people walking past,” you nudge him, not before placing a glossy kiss to his cheek. he shrugs, glancing over at a passing woman and her boyfriend on the street. in usual dean fashion, he gives your ass a pat and winks at the couple, not that you realise.

“well, maybe, they wanna piece of this fine ass,” he squeezed, looking up at you through his lashes. “they'd have to go through me, first though,” literally before you can even realise it, you've been hiked up over his shoulder with your ass practically out.

“dean, my skirt!” dean acts oblivious, but slides a hand over you to keep the view at bay, a laugh slipping past his lips. “relax, sweetheart, i got you,” does this calm your nerves? no, not really, but, you relax into his grasp.

“you're the worst,” as you shake your head, your earrings shimmer under the dim lights of the motel as you make your way in. dean's practically a deer in headlights looking at you before he focuses again, and taps the doorframe of where sam's in.

“keep an eye on baby, alright? got some uh, things to be doin’, sammy,” it's like sam didn't even have to ask as he saw dean give you a playful swat on the ass, herding you to the bedroom. 

“yeah, sure, whatever,” sam was ninety-five percent sure he might have to go do his research in the impala because knowing you two? you were loud.

tags ┆.ᐟ ᰍ ︵ @onlynextdoor ۫ .

☆ 𝜗𝜚 ( your honor, i loveeee himmmmmmmmm.... lmk if u wanna be tagged in spn works lolz