#i feel seen but also it hurts my soul

[elialys]

"I'm fascinated with people's comments about Helen, too. Everyone talks about, 'Oh, she's dramatic, she's a mess, she's this,' and I'm like, 'Naaah'. There's a little bit more going on, but it's the 80s, so no one's gonna talk about that either. No one's gonna help, no one's gonna protect, no one's gonna save." Anna Torv [x]

THE NEWSREADER | 1.02 "Once in a Lifetime"

[loverboybrightsideghost]

i saw anastasiaaaaa 🥰🥰🥰👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼🗣️🗣️🗣️🥳🥳🥳🥳

[lususnatura]

🎤

a song that i associate with my muse meme!

AHH, hello, chrome!! thank you for the ask (: i appreciate you guys sending these in SOOO much, tbh, but allow me to introduce y'all to a new BANGER that is kind of sad and yet... i think it captures one part of blamore's character that i haven't really talked about before (an explanation as to why i associate this song with my muse will be in the tags):

sade - is it a crime.

[barnbridges]

not to say my daily take again, but bunny's specific lack of place, the fact that even his friends don't even like him, and that he lies constantly and can switch from hot to cold and from loving to disdainful but keep acting like everything is fine afterwards is what being highly masking is like and it's terrifying mentally thanks for coming to my ted talk.

[so-sick-of-17]

I generally really think that taste is a personal thing and it shouldn’t have to please everyone. If someone likes something and it doesn’t impact my life, then why should I care? I love, tattoos, I follow a lot of tattoo pages on Instagram and posted a tattoo that is in the shape of a heart and looks like a really bad bruise. I guess it’s supposed to mean love hurts or some really stupid metaphor that borderline gives domestic violence, vibes. It is not my body and it does not matter that I dislike it. This tattoo and whoever likes it has no impact on my life. But I really think that people with such bad taste that they think that looks good , just shouldn’t exist. I might be a massive hypocrite but I don’t care. That might be the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I’d be fine with one person getting a shitty tattoo, but having many comments thinking that it looks dope, nope!

[flowachild]

my grandma randomly sat me down and explained some of the trauma she’s went through and

[fionnaskyborn]

and TODAY ON "Songs Fionna can't listen to without them fucking her up immensely and remind her why she doesn't listen to them very often every time she listens to them", we have:

[inkskinned]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x shy Hufflepuff fem!reader

Summary: You have a massive crush on James. One you didn't think would ever lead anywhere until a drunken party in the Gryffindor Common Room.

Genre: Fluff 🫶

Warnings: drinking, being drunk

~ directly inspired by the song So High School by Taylor Swift. thank you to the anon who requested this! ily! ~

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

Your cheeks burn from your embarrassment and the fire-whiskey in your blood-stream as your ears ring from the loud music dancing around you and you shake your head.

Lily Evans laughs as she glances around the Common Room. "C'mon, this is your chance," she insists, "They're playing Kiss, Marry, or Kill."

When Lily sees your confused and frankly frightened expression, she quickly explains, "It's a muggle game—it's harmless and fun—c'mon," she says again and pulls on your arm.

"Gentlemen," Lily declares when you approach the circle of students near the fire and she looks at the ring leaders of the group, The Marauders.

They're the ones that had planned this party—or Sirius and James had while Remus and Peter tagged along.

Sirius grins when he sees Lily. 

"Aw, are you joining us, Red?" he smirks and then he sees you, "And who's your friend?"

You smile shyly. You know Peter from Care Of Magical Creatures in your third year, and you often seen Remus in the library (you've even spoken to him a few times), but you've only ever seen and heard James and Sirius from afar—

—which definitely never helped the stupid, baseless, soul-crushing crush you have on James Potter. 

Remus, who is sitting criss-cross ext to Sirius, speaks up, "Y/n, yeah? You're a Hufflepuff—I see you in the library." He smiles kindly and pushes on James's shoulder, who has the latter almost choking on his beer, so you can sit next to him. 

James frowns but he recovers quickly and looks up, his glasses crooked on his nose. He's wearing his Quidditch sweater, his brown hair a tangled mess, but he's smiling now.

"Hi," he moves so you can sit next to him and Remus as Lily grins like a fool. You feel her hand on your shoulder as she plops you down next to James and she sits across from you. 

Apart from the Marauders, other students are also sitting around the circle and chatting. Sirius is by far the loudest of them all, and you think James is the funniest. 

It becomes honestly embarrassing how hard you laugh at any stupid joke he says. You can't help it, your tipsiness impairs any rational thoughts you may have, as you cover your mouth and stifle your laughs. 

James notices immediately and he grins. 

"Never had this much success, dove," he says, as charming as always, "You're cute."

This causes you to become even more flustered and you don't even know how to answer him. So, you hide from him, turning your head in the opposite direction. Lily sends you a knowing look.

James leans his knee closer to yours and you have to convince yourself he did that by accident or you'll simply implode. 

"Okay, Jamie, Kiss, Marry, Kill—me, Lily, and our new sweet little Hufflepuff," Sirius suddenly says, pulling your attention to the group again. You still have no clue what this game is and your eyes round.

Sirius seems quite pleased with himself.

James sips his drink, "Hmm, Kill you because you're a pain in my arse—" 

Sirius dramatically puts a hand on his heart, feigning hurt at his best friend's words. "And here I had the ring all prepared," he whines. 

James chuckles and continues. "Then um," he looks between you and Lily for a moment and your heart sinks.

Everyone knows James had a thing for Lily in second to fourth year. How could you, someone who had been too shy and awkward to even talk to him, compete with smart, incredibly witty, and beautifully stunning Lily Evans?

"Kiss Lily and marry Y/n," James shrugs, smiling lopsidedly as he looks at you and pushes his glasses further up his nose. "Lils' seems like she'd be a decent snog, but I like them sweeter for the long run," he reasons and winks. 

Lily laughs and rolls her eyes, "Smooth, Potter."

"No need to get all green-eyed on us, Evans," James says and turns his attention to you again, "Whadd'ya say, lil' puff, June 17th in six years?" he says, planning the future fake wedding.

You look up at him, your eyes round and you blink—unable to laugh it off as your heart thumps so loudly you can barely hear a thing anymore. 

"I think you broke the poor girl," Remus chuckles and then turns to Peter to steer the attention away from you, "Okay, Wormy, your turn."

Thank Merlin for Remus Lupin.

* * *

A while later, you stand in the corner of the room, your mind still stuck on how James's teasing that you don't hear the man in question come up to you.

"Hey, dove," he whispers and you spin around.

"Oh–hi," you whisper. You must look so smitten because you can just feel your cheeks burn.

James smirks. "It's late. Where's Lily?"

You frown as you look around, "She's talking with um—some of her other friends over there—" you point, expecting James to walk to her and leave you behind.

Instead, he stays. "You think she'd mind if I walk you back to your Common Room, you seem a little tipsy."

You're at a loss for words but then you stutter, "O-oh, no, I don't think she would mind," you whisper, "That's very kind of you, James. I c-can walk alone if it's a bother—"

"Nonsense. If it was a bother, I wouldn't have asked," James takes your arm, pushing some hair from your face with his fingers.

"Cute ribbon," he adds, looking at the red ribbon in your hair, "Very on brand with Gryffindor pride," he chuckles as he clearly enjoys the flustered look you're wearing.

"You're adorable," he says and he takes your hand, leading you out into the hall. The corridors are empty and dimly lit at this time in the evening and it feels surreal to walk the halls hand in hand with James Potter—especially when he keeps looking back at you with that look on his face. 

When you arrive at the entrance of the Hufflepuff Common Room, James turns to you and he keeps his hand in yours. He's blushing obviously now and you can smell the beer on his breath.

"If we weren't so tipsy," he mumbles, his knuckles caressing your skin, "I would kiss you right now."

Your eyes widen and your breath leaves you. "Pardon?"

"You heard me, love—where have you been all my life?" he sounds lovesick and one of his palms press against his warm cheek, "Is this what love at first sight is supposed to feel like? Because I was convinced that was all bullshit until now. What charm have you put on me, Y/n?"

You look away because if you look into his eyes any longer, you'll faint. Your hand squeezes his as his words make you feel dizzy and all fluttery. "I think you're just a little drunk, James."

"Drunk in love, yeah," he half-jokes, his tone soft as he leans in and his lips find your forehead.

You shut your eyes, wondering how he could make you feel like this in a mere matter of hours and although your insecurities creep in, you stay in the moment. 

"Where can I find you tomorrow?" James whispers against your skin. 

"I'm in the library a lot, especially in the mornings," you say, having no expectations of ever seeing James Potter again. You and him live on completely different planets.

"You can find me there if you'd like," you finish and James nods, his lips kissing your temple one last time and then he whispers a small, sweet dreams into your skin. 

* * *

  In the morning, you ignore your hangover and find your usual spot in the back of the library as you open an old book written by an ancient muggle philosopher. 

Last night's events in the Gryffindor Common Room play in your head as you read. 

"Mornin'." You're startled by a familiar voice and you look up from your book. James stands in front of you, a Quaffle under his arm as his hair splays messily across his forehead.

He's still dressed in his Quidditch Uniform and he walks closer, smiling. "Sorry I'm late—practice ran later than usual. Whatcha reading?" he asks, sitting across from you and draping his arm across the chair next to his as the Quaffle sits in his lap.

"You came," you whisper with a smile, your heart fluttering.

"Yeah, 'course I came," James says so casually as he leans over the table and taps your book, "Whatcha reading, dove? Do tell me all about it,"

You feel all warm and fuzzy like all your wildest dreams have come true, when you say, "Only if you tell me all about Quidditch practice after?" you look at him shyly.

"Your wish is my command," James grins, a faint blush on his cheeks.

[fayes-fics]

Second Son

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: The second son is, for once, the first choice...

Warnings: none really... mild angst, family dynamics, love at first sight.

Word Count: 2.9k

Authors Note: Request fill for anon here, about Benedict being the second choice for everything.... until his love turns up. Thanks for this request; I hope this is angsty enough for you anon. Im not sure about it tbh. Sorry that it's taken more than three months to get to it on my WIP list. Unbetaed. Enjoy <3

Benedict Bridgerton was born into privilege and can have few complaints. Except perhaps that he is always second. The spare. The just-in-case option. Being a familial insurance policy lends one more freedom than the burden of being the titled first son, perhaps, but it also feels like your whole existence, in some respects, can seem like a contingency plan.

____

His stomach swoops with excitement as the arrow pierces the target dead on the bullseye. And on his first ever archery lesson, just after his twelfth birthday.

He turns around to see if anyone is there to witness his triumph, but it goes unmarked. All his young siblings gathered around Anthony, patting him on the back for his achievements in doing the same moments before. Being a good shot is an essential skill for the next Viscount indeed. The fact that he has been receiving instruction for months already and this is Benedict’s first lesson hurts a little.

But he doesn't bother to bring attention to his arguably more impressive feat. It seems pointless now. Wordlessly he shrugs and walks towards the target, plucking out his arrow and starting again. Perhaps next time, they will notice.

____

“Is that the new Viscount Bridgerton?” Benedict hears a young girl murmur as he sweeps into the first societal event of the season, the spring following his father's death. 

“Oh no, my dear, sadly not; I believe that is one of the brothers,” her mother replies, acting as if he has no sense of hearing, even trying to ignore it as he is, surveying the crowd.

“Such a shame,” the young girl huffs, “he is so very handsome.”

“Yes, dear, but sadly not titled. We can do better,” her mother chides, moving them along out of earshot.

He will never get over how cutthroat the Ton can be, a part of his tender seventeen-year-old heart sinking. Not that he had a potential interest in that girl, more the principle that he will somehow be rendered as an also-ran, at best a consolation prize, for the rest of his life.

What is most galling, perhaps, is that, when his mother needs their presence the most on a night like tonight, the new VIscount is nowhere to be seen. Has not even bothered to show his face, running off to some spurious gambling den and brothel, spending the night indulging himself rather than facing society. 

So here Benedict is, stepping up to play the dutiful son that his elder brother should be. Being the support their mother so desperately needs at her first event as a widow, her arm looped heavily through his, her whole bodyweight seeming to use him as her literal pillar of support. As he escorts her around the room, he is filled with admiration at her brave face. He can see the overwhelming sadness in her eyes every time the word dowager is invoked, and his heart cracks a little at the loneliness he can feel emanating from his mother’s very soul. 

“Tis a shame the Viscount did not deign the first event of the season worthy of his patronage,” she states pointedly as she sips champagne.

“I am sure he has very good reasons for his absence,” Benedict replies soothingly, covering for his errant brother, attempting to shield their mother from the truth of his philandering ways. Benedict knows it is Anthony’s way of dealing with the responsibility of the title of Viscount being thrust upon him so young. But sometimes, just sometimes, Benedict wishes he could escape his grief in such a manner, Anthony taking his turn attending a stuffy ball and playing guardian to a grieving woman. Their burdens may be different, but the wish to escape them is often not, Benedict realises.

____

She catches his eye at a garden party at Aubrey Hall. She is a pretty young lady, maybe eighteen to his twenty-three, with bright eyes and a sweet, happy face. She makes his palms slightly sweaty. He watches her from a distance, uncertain how to approach or what to say, feeling a little tongue-tied, even. 

Just then, Anthony materialises at his shoulder.

“Who is that pretty young thing?” Anthony asks, tracing Benedict’s line of sight.

“Miss Bradstreet,” he replies, watching as she turns to face the sun, closing her eyes, basking in its warmth. The light captures her cheekbones perfectly, and he itches to have his sketchbook and capture her likeness. He would very much like to get to know her better.

“Let's go provide a warm welcome,” Anthony smirks, clapping a hand on Benedict’s shoulder and practically dragging him across the lawn.

Benedict reluctantly follows, a flutter of excitement as her eyes land upon them as they approach. 

“Miss Bradstreet,” Anthony swaggers. “Viscount Bridgerton at your service; I am so very pleased to be your host today,” he bows.

Benedict's stomach plunges as he watches her practically melt into the lawn right there, virtually swooning at Anthony’s feet.

“Oh, and this is my brother, Benedict,” Anthony adds, almost as an afterthought. 

She flicks her head to the side briefly to politely acknowledge Benedict before returning to Anthony. All of her undivided adoring attention on him as he regales the story of his latest hunting triumphs upon her insistence. Benedict heaves a sigh and watches as yet another young lady he likes chooses his brother over him. He is almost used to it now, but it doesn't stop the sting every time.

____

Your world grinds to a halt as you see him. He is descending the stairs with what you assume is the rest of his family. He is very much in the middle of a tight circle, walking behind what appears to be his mother and perhaps older brother. Quite the most beautiful man you have ever seen, your heart pounding in your ears, your throat suddenly dry despite the lemonade in your hand. You assume they must be the hosts, seeing as they are the very last to enter the ballroom here at Bridgerton House, and there is no announcement of their name.

“Who is that?” you whisper, leaning towards your elder sister. She has been out among society for a year and knows the Ton better than you.

“That is the Bridgerton family, of course,” she replies. “Illustrious in the extreme. Our hosts for this evening. The Viscount there is the most eligible bachelor of every season… and every season, he has resisted a match. So I wouldn't bother if I were you,” she sniffs.

“Which is the Viscount?” you check, your eyes unable to leave the beautiful man with a cravat tied in the most unconventional fashion.

“The one with his arm looped with their mother, the dowager Viscountess, naturally,” your sister rolls her eyes as if patently obvious.

“And what of the others?” you inquire keenly, realising the man you admire cannot be the one your sister is referring to. “Do you know their names?”

“I do not,” she admits, “such things are not really important when one is looking for a titled husband,” she points out airily. 

You nod, knowing the responsibility your sister must carry as firstborn to find a suitable match that can provide for your widowed mother and, indeed, perhaps yourself and your younger sister should neither of you be able to find a husband. You don’t envy her position one little bit. 

You are, however, desperate to get closer to the most beautiful man you have ever seen. And so you spend your evening working towards them, in as polite of a fashion as you can, your stomach in knots of excitement to know him.

“Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton, it is an honour and a pleasure to meet you,” you curtsy, heart pounding as he now stands a few feet away, unable to look at him so close by.

“Hello, my dear and you are?” she asks politely.

“Miss y/n y/l/n, it is my very first season; I am so honoured to be here,” you explain. “I must provide the apologies of my mother, Mrs y/l/n, who could not attend tonight due to a cold, but she is so very thankful for the invitation.”

“Oh, of course,” the viscountess smiles. “I am so sorry to hear of her illness; please pass on my best regards… Anthony!” she turns to her side to grab the attention of a man. The viscount’s head whips around from where he is in discussion with another. “Come meet Miss y/l/n,” she needles pointedly. “Miss y/l/n, this is the Viscount Anthony Brdgerton, and he is so pleased not only to make your acquaintance but also for your presence here tonight,” she welcomes on his behalf, and you do not miss the subtle nudge in the ribs she gives him.

Then his regard is drawn to you. He is handsome certainly, and you appreciate his polite but absent-minded greeting. His attentions are obviously elsewhere, but then you cannot fault him as yours are the same. Your gaze strays over his shoulder to the man who first captures your attention. And your breath is stolen by how his hazy blue eyes stare intently at you.

____

Benedict is twenty-six years old when he is struck by lightning. Not literally. But that is the sensation that runs through his body when he first lays eyes on you—politely introducing yourself to his mother and thanking her for your invitation to this ball. 

He thought he knew what attraction was until this point. He thought he knew the depths to which one could fall in love in an instant. He was an utter fool. He looks at you, and at once, everything is so quiet and loud all at once. He is desperate to know you in a way he has never felt. To grab your hand, take you somewhere, and ask you a million questions to get to know your soul. He also wants to kiss you so much that his lips tingle. And inside, his lungs want to scream as his mother does the natural thing and introduces the beautiful, polite young lady to her most eligible son… Anthony. 

Then his heart jolts as your eyes stray from Anthony and meets his, your pupils dilating in a way that makes his lungs too small to inhale air. It is the first and only time a young woman has had Anthony’s full attention and has looked away from it. And to him, no less. The tidal flood of chemicals in his system makes it feel like he is vibrating in his very shoes.

____

You try your best to be polite and look at Anthony as he speaks, but your sight is drawn to this other man like a moth to a flame. From appearance, the second son, as you are the second daughter. A flare of understanding and sympathy in your chest as to how that is. You want to grab his hand and run away with him.

“My lord,” you find your voice and snap your eyes back to the Viscount, “would you do me the honour of introducing me to the rest of your wonderful family?” your ask, almost timid.

He looks temporarily taken aback, as if mystified why anyone in the Ton would care about the status of anyone beyond his mother and himself. You smile at him expectantly and do not miss, from the corner of your eye, how the beautiful man’s face is awash with surprise at your request.

“Oh, most certainly,” Anthony seems to snap out of his temporary stupor and turns to introduce his siblings in attendance. A tall, baby-faced young man stands to attention as Anthony moves from left to right. “This is Colin; he has just returned from his travels in Greece,” you nod and smile politely, knowing nothing of the subject. “And this is my sister, Eloise; it is her first season, and she is not in the slightest bit happy about that,” he adds dryly, and you can't help but giggle and feel a kinship with the spirited young lady who returns your wry smile. “My eldest sister, the Duchess of Hastings, who is visiting us,”

You curtsy and bow your head. “It is an honour, your Grace,” you add, and she smiles sweetly at you, her arm looped in her mother's.

“Obviously, you have met my mother,” he continues, and suddenly he is the last in the line. You feel your palms clench, sweaty in anticipation of learning his name “... and this is my brother, Benedict; he hopes to be an artist.”

You are finally brave enough to meet his eyes again. He is so achingly beautiful that the rest of his family, indeed the whole ballroom, melt away from your view—he is all you can see.

“Oh, I adore art,” you stutter, mesmerised, offering your hand to him, the first and only person in the family you do so to. Unseen by you, your gaze only on one man, Anthony’s mouth drops open in surprise.

Nothing can prepare you for when Benedict’s gloved hand gently touches yours, him bowing to kiss the back of your hand. You catch a woody citrus scent that makes your mouth water as he does so. And then you feel the warmth of his lips through your glove, and you are utterly undone.

“Miss y/l/n,” he rumbles quietly, the sound making your insides melt even more; it's deep and resonant and makes every inch of your body tingle.

“Please call me y/n,” you murmur, moving closer, knowing how scandalous that might be, but seemingly unable to stop yourself. He has a hypnotic hold over you that you don't want to fight.

“Only if you shall call me Benedict,” he breathes, and it takes Anthony clearing his throat to make you spring apart, suddenly remembering where you are.

____

His lips touch the silk of your glove, and he is gone. 

Already planning a future, his mind supplying images of you at his cottage out in the country, the lady of the house. Tending to the herb garden, reading happily curled up in front of the fire in the drawing room, fearlessly plucking a bow as you stand in front of joint archery targets gently teasing him for losing to a girl, and finally, the image that truly knocks the wind out of him, you naked under him, desperately moaning his name as you move together, entwined in ecstasy.

He hears your sharp inhale, and his heart skips at the idea you feel it too. That you are the first woman ever that sees him and not Anthony. Really sees him. Not as the second son. Not as a consolation prize. 

And when your body seems to sway towards him, he is already mentally asking his mother for a betrothal ring from her grandmother, which she said she is keeping just for him.

____

“Benedict,” his name feels wonderful in your mouth, like a gift from the heavens. “Please, may we take a turn around the gardens?” you implore, the boldest you have ever been in your whole life. 

“It would be my very greatest pleasure,” he responds.

And you know with absolute certainty you have met your husband, the father of your children, your very future. 

____

“It is not as if this is my show….” he sighs.

“You should not do that, darling,” you say affectionately, ruffling his hair as you move to fix his cravat; it definitely needs to be more jaunty, in your opinion.

“Do what?” he breathes, his wedding ring catching the light as he places his hands gently over yours and stills your motions.

“Think of yourself as second,” you argue, running your hand over his cheek. “This gallery opening may feature others' work too, but you are the star of the exhibit,” you reassure, tilting his forehead down so it rests upon yours.

There it is again. That look that always floors you. Even now, a year later. Like you are the most wondrous creature, and he can scarcely believe you are his.

“Never forget, you will always be first to me,” you utter fiercely, watching his eyes soften with devotion. “And not just me….” you guide his sizeable warm hand onto the swell of your belly, “to us. We love you so much, Benedict,” your tone is ardent, wanting him to believe he deserves this recognition, that he should believe in himself the way that you do.

“I love you, too,” he responds quietly, reverentially. “So very much. Both of you are my whole world,” his voice choked with emotion, and you throw your arms around him and squeeze hard, wanting to telegraph just how much he is the very centre of your universe.

An hour later, you clutch your hands over your chest as you watch him being brought onto the raised stage and introduced to the crowd as they applaud him and his work rapturously, awaiting to hear him talk of his art. As he does so, you stroke your belly unseen under your cloak, beaming with pride for your wonderful husband.

____

He sees your face in the crowd, and as ever, it calms him, especially at this landmark moment. So as he finishes the speech that he has rehearsed for days now, he decides to do something perhaps unconventional but something he seems unable to resist.

“Lastly, before I allow you back to your champagne,” he jests, finally at ease with the attention and recognition. “I want to thank my life’s inspiration, the very reason I stand before you today. My wonderful wife. Thank you, my love, for being the light of my life; for always making this second son your first choice. You will always, always be my first choice. I love you.” 

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 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep

[save-the-villainous-cat]

"You're quitting?" the villain asked and the hero nearly jumped out of their own skin. They had had quite the day and the last person they had expected to see in their own living room was the villain.

"Jeez- yes-" They felt their pulse in their throat and when they set down their plate, their fingers shook. Right. They hadn't told the villain.

It was stupid that they felt - to some degree at least - obligated to tell their nemesis that they weren't interested in wearing the cape anymore. In all honesty, that feeling of obligation only existed because the hero wanted some comfort.

"You're quitting?" the villain asked again and the hero only frowned softly.

"Yeah."

"Bullshit."

"No, I am done. I am done with this." In return, the villain let out a huff and crossed their arms in front of their chest.

"You can't just quit," the villain said, as if they had any say in this. It was refreshing, though. Most people had encouraged them. Hell, their parents had begged for years, colleagues called them incredibly lucky and friends only sighed in gratitude.

But the villain didn't seem to accept this.

"I did. I did quit," the hero said. "I signed the papers and everything. They wanted to throw a party but I declined."

They stared at their wine glass. It was difficult not to feel like a total loser. Because, in the end, this was much more "giving up" than it was "quitting."

"Why?"

The hero took in a deep breath and a sip from the glass. The wine was a gift from their boss, but it tasted much too sour.

"Why are you here? Was it that necessary to break into my apartment?"

"Why are you leaving? We were just starting to..." The hero stared at the villain. Starting to...? The villain rolled their eyes. "The people love you."

They came closer, every step taken urgently. The hero was flattered but also slightly overwhelmed. They could feel their cheeks heat up when the villain was right in front of them, their hand nearly reaching for the hero's arm.

Only now, the hero realized that they had never been in their home together and moreover, the hero had never looked this revealing, even though they were fully clothed.

Their gaze was glued to the floor.

"This stupid city needs you. Most heroes are total assholes with no consideration of anyone's feelings, including citizens. Do you want that to be your legacy? The perfect hero who gave up?"

"I'm just sick of all the blood. And the violence. About not actually making a difference. Once I defeat a bad guy, two more appear like hydra heads. I'm just...I'm not good enough. I can't deal with it anymore," the hero admitted. They stared at their toast on the plate and wondered what their next move would be. For most of their life, they had trained to be a hero. They had given everything. "It just hurts. A lot."

Getting a job, probably. That seemed to be a good move.

And then, the villain laughed. It wasn't a chuckle, it wasn't a snicker. It was a loud and honest laugh. As if the hero had just made the most ridiculous joke.

"You're funny."

"You know what? I don't have to tell you anything."

"You are the best thing that has ever happened to this city," the villain said. Now, they seemed quite aggravated, quite serious. "And you're quitting?"

"Like I said, I...I am just not good enough."

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard you say."

"I am not saving enough people, okay?! People keep dying and I can't...I can't..." The hero bit their bottom lip but it was still trembling. "I can't save everyone."

The villain was quiet and the hero could see how hard they were clenching their fists. When was the last time they had ever seen them this angry?

"You know what? Screw you." The villain frowned, almost as if their own words pained them. "No one can save everyone. But a hero, a true hero, inspires others to be the very best version of themselves. They rise to the occasion and others follow them, not out of obligation but because they...because you...because you touch the very soul of others. You're the light in the darkest cave, you are the water in the driest desert, you are the hope the people crave."

The hero hadn't noticed how their jaw had dropped. They didn't know what to say, all they could whisper was the villain's name.

"Ugh. And now I am making a fool out of myself again because of you." The villain crossed their arms in front of their chest but the hero still saw the soft blush on their face.

"No, you...listen, I..." Why was it so difficult to say anything?

"I'm leaving. And you-" the villain pointed at them with an angry index finger "-better show up tomorrow."

With that, they climbed out of the window and the hero stared at their toast for the next 20 minutes in silence.

[amyispxnk]

Mi Niña Hermosa

Masterlist

Summary - Javier gets you pregnant, but then he gets scared, leaving you to raise your little girl all alone. One day, he sees you working at a brothel to try and make ends meet, and realises what he needs to do.

A/N: for this ask! i hope you like it pookie<3 also please excuse any bad spanish! i tried my best with it but it might not be 100% accurate.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: mentions of sex work and sex, violence, language, pregnancy/children, arguing, brief suicidal ideation, hurt+comfort, angst, men being men

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

“Shh, shh, Carmen, mi amor. Está bien,” you plead with your baby daughter. She’s been up for the past hour because of yet another explosion a few blocks away. You think it was a car bomb this time, but does it really matter? All you know for sure is that Carmen is not going to let you sleep through the night because of it.

She’s almost 12 months old now, which means it's been almost 2 years since you last saw Javi. You hate yourself for it, but sometimes you look at your little girl and feel bitter. It’s not her fault, but she was the reason that Javi finally said goodbye to you.

You both knew it was a long time coming, but when you showed him a positive pregnancy test that night, you yelled at each other until your throats were raw and all your tears had been cried, before he slammed the door in your face and left you there. It was the final time you saw him.

Because of Carmen’s deadbeat father, you ended up in a brothel. It was one of the hardest decisions of your life, but you knew you had to do it for her.

“¡Muy bien chicas, salgan y ganen algo de dinero!” You want to jump out of this building, is your first thought. Crash all the way to the floor and forfeit this terrible life you’ve been ‘blessed with’. But you can’t. So you hold your head high, plaster on a smile, and walk out into the lobby of the brothel.

Your smile drops when you see him.

Of all the fucking brothels to go to, he chooses this one? The one you just so happened to start working at a week prior? That tenth-storey window looks even more tempting right now, especially when he locks eyes with you.

He’s with a man, blonde hair, blue eyes. You think that man’s name is Steve Murphy. Yes, you’ve seen them on the news. Who the fuck hasn’t? It just makes you even more frustrated. He left you and Carmen behind so that he could hunt down Pablo Escobar. He abandoned the two of you for fame.

Javi’s eyes dart back and forth between you and Steve, before he starts making his way towards you.

Hell to the fucking no. You turn on your heel and almost drag a man you noticed was ogling you for the past 5 minutes into one of the rooms, letting the curtains close behind you, separating you from Javi.

The time you share with that man is no different than any of the other men you’ve been with, all uncomfortable and gross for you, mind-blowingly good for him.

Sometimes you still think of Javi when you feel a man on top of you. He was the best you had, after all.

Outside, Javi curses loudly, drawing the eye of a few people and his partner.

“What the fuck was that, Javi? We’re here to question the girl, not chase after this random. Your dry spell that bad?” Steve laughs, clapping him on the back. Javi quickly shrugs him off, jaw clenched and gaze hollow.

“I know her.” He mutters. Yes, he knows you. He knows every part of you. Your smile, which he only saw on a rare occasion. Your eyes, which could always pierce him, see straight through his soul and see the worst parts of him. Your body, which you now sell because of him.

Steve is still yapping on about something or other whilst the storm inside of Javi swirls, growing and growing. You’re behind that curtain, selling your body. He knows why you’re doing it too, and it makes him feel even worse. He feels like he’s about to pass out as it all hits him at once.

What a piece of shit he’s been.

You don’t deserve this life. You deserve to be happy, supported and protected by someone, anyone who can help you. Not Javi though. He’s not fit to be a father. After what he’s seen, what he’s done, he could never care for something as precious as your baby.

But he knows what men are like. Knows that, somehow, he’s one of the better men in this country. It’s not a high bar to pass, this he knows too, but he figures that it must be why you have to work here to provide for yourself and his child. Fuck. He doesn’t even know the gender, the name. He wasn’t there for you at all, and he should have been.

It feels like there’s no going back though. How could he ever apologise enough or make it up to you? What he’s done is irreversible. Just from the way you reacted when you saw him now, it feels like it’ll be impossible to try to apologise to you.

He thinks of his father, his mother. How disappointed would they be? They probably already were, but with this? Abandoning a girl with a child he gave her?

They would surely disown him.

He feels like he’s been ungrateful too. After being raised by two loving and caring parents, how could he leave his own child without one? And with a life like this?

He runs a hand down his face, telling Steve to shut up. A loud shout from the man behind the curtain, surely finishing without giving you a moment of pleasure. He knows what you sound like when the sex is good. You barely made a peep in these past 5 minutes.

The man walks out, commenting on ‘how good that slut was’ as he walks past Javi and Steve, and it takes everything in him not to punch him square in the face there and then.

“I need to talk to her, Steve. 5 minutes.” Javi decides suddenly. He can’t let this go on.

“You better not be fucking on the job, Javi.”

He grunts in response, entering the room and letting the curtains slide closed behind him.

The entire world goes still, silent just for the two of you. Almost 2 years have gone by, and this is how you meet. The shame almost swallows him whole.

“I’m so sorry.” He says, before you can even register what’s happening, because he knows you’ll be ready to kick and scream to get him away from you when you do.

Unsurprisingly, your eyes well with tears, and your face twists into one of disgust.

“Why the fuck are you here.” You spit, holding your robe tighter around yourself.

“We were here for a job, and-”

“Do you think I actually care? You fucked off two years ago, I don’t want to see you back here now. Whatever it is you want, I don’t care.” You interrupt. Yes, this was going to be as difficult as he thought.

“Baby, please just-”

“Don’t fucking call me that! You don’t get to call me that!” You shout. He’s on borrowed time before somebody comes and escorts him out of here.

“Just listen to me, please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He pleads, desperate for you to listen. He doesn’t know how to get his message across to you.

Your tears burst forth, fat droplets cascading down your skin as you turn away from him.

“Go away, Javier. I don’t want to see your face ever again. I see it in her everyday and it already haunts me enough.”

His baby is a girl.

“I’m here to talk about her. I… I want to help. I’m so sorry for leaving. I got scared. I thought- I wasn’t ready to take care of something as precious as a baby… I thought you would get hurt if it was discovered that a DEA agent like myself had a child.”

“Yeah. Agente de la DEA, Javier fucking Peña,” you scoff, “who abandoned his child in pursuit of fame. To catch a bad guy. Some fucking hero you think you are.”

He can’t get angry with you. He won’t. However wrong you are about what you just said. He won’t do it.

“I don’t want fame.” He grits out. How much of an asshole is he that you thought he would leave you for fame? “I’m trying to help this country. It was dangerous enough for me to see you regularly, you know this. If I was seen with a woman and a child, they wouldn’t waste a second trying to kill you both. I couldn’t let that happen to you. I care about you. Please understand, baby.” He begs you again, hand carefully reaching for your shoulder and turning you to face him. You’re still sniffling, silent tears falling down your cheeks as you refuse to meet his gaze.

“Mírame.” He whispers, cupping your jaw and tilting your head up so he can see your eyes.

“Please, I’m sorry.” He says. He’ll say it thousands, millions of times, it still won’t be enough, but he can see that you’re starting to understand.

“It’s been 2 years. I had to be pregnant and raise her all by myself. Not once did you check on me.”

“I was scared. I was being a coward, I know. I… I won’t be surprised if you tell me to leave again, but let me help pay for her. I don’t want you working here. It’s dangerous.” He murmurs, eyes shining with emotion as he looks into yours.

You shake your head, and he gets ready to argue about it, but you pull him closer, squeezing the air out of him and shaking with sobs again.

“I’ve needed you for so long. I- I don’t know how I managed this long. I need you, Javi.” You choke out, his heart shattering with every word until it’s laid out on the floor for you.

“I know. I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.” He soothes, running his hand through your hair.

Over the next month, he helps you leave the brothel, gives you some money to get on your feet. You still live apart, despite his protests that you’d be safer living with him, you’re not ready yet.

Today you figure will be the decider of that. He’s going to meet Carmen.

You rub your eyes as the morning sun hits you, rousing you from your sleep. The clock reads 9:37. Just over 20 minutes until your daughter finally meets her father.

The 20 minutes are spent waking and feeding her, before a knock on the door stops you.

You exhale shakily and walk to the door, opening it slowly.

“Hola, Javi.” You say softly. He greets you, equally timid. You notice he’s holding a little teddy bear in his hands, almost making you laugh at how it looks being held by this big brooding man, but you just shake your head.

“Come and meet her.” You murmur, opening the door further so he can step inside.

There, messing around on your bed, is the most beautiful little girl he’s ever seen. He can definitely see his features on her face. The lips, the eyes. She got your nose, thankfully he thinks, and her hair is a unique blend of yours and Javi’s.

“She’s so beautiful.” He whispers, and you just nod, still unsure of your feelings for him right now.

“Carmen, baby, say hello.” You coo, picking her up and bringing her over to Javi. He’s quiet, scared, as always. But then she babbles at him, clapping her hands together and trying to reach for him. The teddy. He almost forgot about it.

“Hola pequeña, soy tu papá. ¿Quieres el peluche?” He says softly, waving it around a bit before handing it to her and letting her play. You and Javi talk for a bit while she sits on the bed, but then something happens. She gets tired, which is normal around 2pm, but instead of crawling to you, she goes to Javi. Carmen wraps her little fingers around one of his larger ones, curling up in his lap. The two of you still, and it shocks you to see tears appearing in his eyes as he strokes her hair, letting her sleep on him.

You decide to move in with him that night, realising that you don’t want him to be away from you and Carmen ever again.

TYSM for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! 💞

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝘿𝘼𝙔 𝙎𝙀𝙑𝙀𝙉: Virginity Loss w/ Bestfriend!Wanda Maximoff

a/n: okay no but why did i have so much difficulty writing this?? it kind of makes me mad if i think about it. anywho, uh... two girls in love... kind of bimbo!reader but they're both whipped for each other!!

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

“Do you think you could lose your virginity as a girl to another girl?” 

You ask randomly one day amongst the mess of textbooks and assortment of highlighters on your bed. 

Wanda looks up at you from her own book, a strand of fiery red hair that had slipped out of her ponytail hung in her face. Her face is a mix of bewilderment but also contemplation, like she’s seriously considering what you were saying.

“I mean… I would think so? Virginity is like a social construct, you know?” You nod pursing your lips. “You’re right.” Then, you go back to your work. She blinks, once, twice. “Why do you ask?” She pushes. 

“I dunno,” You say with a shrug. “I was just thinking that I would much rather lose my virginity to a girl than a guy. Like… I would have sex with a guy, yeah, but not for the first time.” 

“Is there a girl that you were thinking about losing your virginity to?” She can’t deny the uncomfortable twist that arises in her gut at the thought of you with someone else. “No, not really. If anything I’d lose it to you.”

She chokes, “To me?”

“Yeah, I don’t see why not,” You add with a shrug, “I trust you, and I like you.” You say it like it’s the most simplest thing on this planet. “You like me?” She asks incredulously, her veins pulsating with anticipation. Hope.

“How could you not know?” It’s your turn to be incredulous. “I’m like… the most transparent person on this planet. I always go out of my way to do shit with you, and sometimes you make me so flustered that I don’t really know what to do with myself. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“I… I like you too.”

“Really?” The smile you give her is blinding. “Really.” You lean forward over the mass of school supplies to kiss her, a band balanced on the bed next to her criss-crossed knee, the other cradling her cheek.

She flushes as your lips touch and both of her delicate fingers also cradle your face, anchoring you to her. 

It’s nothing but closed mouth kisses, but she starts to feel like she’s burning under her clothes, and so her tongue swipes at your bottom lip asking for entrance, and you enthusiastically give in to her, your tongues wrestling for a moment before you allow her inevitable dominance.

Both of your lungs are burning, but no one seems to want to let go, and you unconsciously start to push her back, swiping at things that are in your way so you can settle yourself over her.

You only separate when you begin to feel light-headed.

Your chests are heaving, and you squeeze your eyes shut, because your pussy is positively throbbing.

“If I told you I wanted to lose my virginity to you right now, would you take it?” You ask breathlessly. Her gaze is dark, boring into yours as if she’s staring into your soul. “Are you sure?”

“Please.” It’s a mix between a whine and a whimper. 

She pushes at your chest, coaxing you off her and onto your back, and you go willingly, staring up at her through wide, excitable eyes. Something inside Wanda softens, and she tugs at the hem of your camisole, and you readily take it off.

She gulps.

Oh.

You aren’t wearing a bra.

She can’t help but cradle your breasts, massaging them and running her thumbs over the hardened nubs of your nipples. You inhale a shaky breath, a shiver shooting up your spine.

“Can I take your pants off?” She asks, lips swollen. “Yeah.”

Wanda rids you of your shorts and underwear all in one go, and you’re laid bare beneath her. Heat crawls up the back of your neck and you sheepishly tug at the bottom of her night shirt, “You too.” You mumble.

She laughs gently, but nonetheless indulges in your request, throwing her plain white shirt to the side and quickly unhooking her bra. You can’t help but stare at her flushed torso, even more so when her breasts are exposed to your hungry gaze.

“Shorts too?” You ask shyly. She rids herself of the offending item quickly, leaving both of you nude.

“Wow…” You can’t help but murmur as you take her in. You drink her in like a woman parched, like you can’t believe you’re finally able to have her like this — and honestly? You still kind of can’t.

She giggles. “What do you wanna do?” You just shrug. “I dunno… I – I’ve never done this before.” She hums in acknowledgement. 

Wanda crawls over your bare body, knees positioned on either side of your full hips, her pussy so close to yours that you can feel the heat of her, and you tremble a little. Your hands settle on her waist.

“How about I eat you out. Finger you a little and see where we go from there?” Your head swims at her crude words but you nod regardless. “Yes… yes, please.” Your words teeter off on a whine and she leans down to place one last bruising kiss to your lips before trailing them down your neck.

They travel over the skin there, her body moving down, down, down, as she goes. Every wet kiss lights your body ablaze, and your legs fall open easily when she coaxes them to a bend, pushing them as wide as they could.

She stares at your wet pussy, taking you in before settling on her stomach, pushing a few strands of stray red hair behind her ear. She looks up at you one more time before licking a stripe from your hole to your clit.

You jolt, a surprised gasp slipping through your lips. One of your fingers settle in your mouth and you suckle on it, the other burying themselves in her locks.

She takes this as an initiative to keep going, drawing your clit into her mouth fully so that you can feel the pressure of her suction. Your lower-half jumps but she just pushes you down, restraining you to the bed.

“Mmf – Wanda…” You breathe around your digit, and she hums. The vibrations of her voice send you skyrocketing, eyes rolling into the back of your head. 

Wanda suckles for a moment before a delicate finger prods at your entrance gently before slipping in. Your walls clamp around her, but you force yourself to relax. She gives you a moment to adjust, dragging it out in a lazy rhythm until you settle.

She crooks it, dragging it over your g-spot easily, and a loud, embarrassing moan slips past your lips. “More,” You beg, “More please.”

She easily concedes, a second finger joining the first. She’s going faster now that she knows you’re susceptible to her touches. Her veins are alight with nerves, and her wrist aches, but she won’t stop until she drags you over the edge.

She detaches herself from your cunt to say, “You taste so good, sweetheart.” You whimper, cupping the back of her head to guide her back to you. She chuckles, but obliges, muttering, “Needy thing.”

You’ll be embarrassed about that later.

You feel a coil in your gut, the base of your spine burning, the need of release clouding all the rational parts of your brain.

“‘M close, Wanda.” You cry out, your eyes screwing shut. 

She goes impossibly harder, and when a third finger joins the mess, you see white, riding her face with abandon. She lets you, licking alongside her digits that are doused in your arousal, her nose knocking into your sensitive nub with every flick.

She draws away when you whimper, resettling over you to get a good look at your face.

“Honey, you okay?” She asks softly, leaning down to kiss you despite her cheeks and chin being soaked. You taste yourself on her tongue, but you don’t hate it. “Very.” You say with a dopey smile, and she giggles.

“Again?” You murmur cheekily. 

Wanda laughs loudly, a smile on her face so big that exposes her glorious, white teeth.

“Give me a minute, then yes, we can go again.”

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @khxna @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus

[muletia]

alrighr, yandere it is(maybe, I mean truck dad hyperfixates on you like you're his autism interest)

And also him being completely horny on the inside is so funny like

"Ah hello Y/N, it's always a pleasure to have you here(i was feeling so depressed and having a boner 5 minutes ago in my dorm)"

that's him, that's my obsessed optimus.

like yeah, he smiles at you and seems a bit chirpier than usual in your presence, but he still keeps his feelings for you bottled up inside. he’s like boiling water in a pot with a lid on. the pressure makes the lid rattle, so you know the water’s boiling, but you don’t know how much. when it comes to Optimus’ feelings — it’s intense as hell. giving him attention calms him down a little since he can focus on you, on the conversation, or the contact between your skin and his metal, but if you’re not around, bro’s like a ticking time bomb. and, it really doesn’t help that he’s horny. sometimes.

let’s say he hasn’t seen you for a long time (a week). the longing eats away at his processor; he thinks about you 24/7, and suddenly his thoughts start getting bolder, more shameless, focusing more on your body than your soul. he tries to remind himself, to scold himself, that it’s immoral and he absolutely shouldn’t be stirring himself up like this, because it’s hurtful for both of you. that he’s being crude. and then he looks down and already knows that he’s failed again, that he couldn’t stop himself. and it’s exactly like you wrote — then you show up at the base, and Optimus acts ‘normal,’ sweet towards you, asking if you’re okay, how life’s going, anything just to keep you talking to him, like he wasn't jerking off 5 minutes ago thinking about your cleavage 💀

optimus: the world is a cruel and unjust place. i feel excitement at the sight of a being 50 times smaller than me. i am going insane without them, i need to be near them 25 hours a day or i’ll lose my mind, but i can’t confess my feelings to them because they’ll think i’m disgusting and creepy. i will never be happy...

*reader walks into the base*

optimus: omg reader hi

i can totally see him listening to country music and imagining the two of you as a couple living out in the countryside with a bunch of sparklings.

just pray to god he never finds out what thirst songs are, because he WILL let his erotic fantasies run wild (you top btw)

tbh the only thing that could save him is you confessing your feelings for him and accepting the fact that he’s a freak when it comes to you, because optimus would just keep spiraling in a loop of self-hatred, depression, and arousal until he just burns out.

[galactic-magick]

here i come with arcane prompts bestie >:3

but this one might hurt ;-;

also SPOILERS FOR S1 IF ANYONE HASNT SEEN IT YET

/////

how about a reader's reaction to the council getting bombed O_O

their frantic attempts to find their lover(Viktor ofc :3), but who they find may not be the man they once knew TwT

I got a little carried away with this one bestie...

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I Thought You Were Dead: Viktor x Reader

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: Smut about halfway through. I put a *** before the smut starts in case anyone doesn't want to read that part. Reader has afab anatomy but no pronouns or feminine specific endearments are used. Also LORE SPOILERS, if you don't know what happens to Viktor in the League of Legends lore then don't read this!!

Author's Notes: This could be read as a part 2 to my other Viktor fic Nights Like This, which takes place in Act 1 whereas this takes place after season 1.

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-

The explosion was deafening.

You can feel your soul sink as soon as you step outside your house, watching the smoke surround the council building. Your feet start running before you’ve processed anything, pushing through the gasping crowds in the streets with their eyes glued to the same devastating spectacle.

Tears stream down your face against the dusty wind, praying to anyone who will listen that your worst fear hasn’t happened. Running as if getting there faster might change the outcome.

It can’t end like this. Not when you haven’t said everything you want to say. Not when you have so much left to do together.

Not when you haven’t said goodbye.

The truth is, you haven’t even seen your husband in several days, maybe even a whole week. He’s been distant lately, so consumed by his experiments that he rarely comes home anymore. You knew what you were getting into marrying a scientist, especially the finest scientist in Piltover, but it still hurts. It hurts to see him driving himself mad and getting sicker, refusing to let you take care of him like he used to. He doesn’t like when you come to visit him at the lab because it’s too dangerous, and he doesn’t come home because he wants to be in the lab—so you’ve stopped trying. You can’t bear to see him hardly eat or sleep for days. You know he loves you, and you still love him, but right now there’s no getting through to him, and all you can do is wait it out until he either comes to his senses or succumbs to his torturous research.

Your mind flashes back to all the fights you had, begging him to come home, begging him to let you stay by his side. You both said things you shouldn’t have, hearts torn apart in mourning of a marriage that once was so perfect. You miss the nights where you were each other's safe space, where the world didn’t feel so grand and overwhelming. You wonder when it was exactly that you stopped fighting, when you gave up on begging and simply loved him as much as you could whenever you finally saw him.

A large battalion of enforcers encircle the scene, pushing back civilians as they attempt to view what happened. The rubble has fallen into mountains, several of them on fire.

You know he was in there. He must’ve been.

“Where are the survivors?!” you demand, shoving against the enforcers.

“We have not found any yet. Please return to your home-”

You pull out the knife you keep in your pocket for emergencies, pressing it against the enforcer’s throat, “My husband was in there. I am not leaving until I find him.”

The other enforcers turn their weapons towards you, and you quickly realize you’ll never beat them with nothing but a dagger and deep rooted rage.

You drop the knife to the ground and put your hands up, awaiting your fate. Would they kill you? Send you home with a warning? Trial you?

Well, not without a council.

“Please…” the sobs return, their weapons still pointing at you. “I just want to know if he’s alive. Just let me look for his body-”

You’re cut off by hands on your wrists and mouth, handcuffing you and knocking you out.

Several months later...

You should’ve known any retaliation against an enforcer could get you thrown in here.

Back against the stone wall of your cell in Stillwater, you envision that day once again, hating yourself for being so stupid. Without the council, the enforcers have started throwing literally anyone in here. In an attempt to contain the chaos of no longer having a government, even the smallest crime or protest is equivalent to murder. All you did was threaten an officer for information on your husband, but that was enough to banish you from any possibility of ever seeing him again.

If he was alive, would he know to come find you? Or would he go back home to find you gone and assume you died? Would he throw himself back into his research regardless of the tragic accident, not even noticing you haven’t tried to visit him in months?

Most days it’s easier to just tell yourself he’s dead. The man you loved so deeply no longer exists, and you’ll never love again. This is your life now, cold and dark and hopeless.

You sink to the floor, leaning on your side in an effort to get some sleep.

Though your slumber is awakened not long after by terrifying noises down the hall.

A collection of screams, an alarm bell, and loud clanging fill your ears. You jump up, looking through the bars of your cell to get a glimpse. You see nothing, but then begin to hear stomping footsteps thundering towards your end of the hall.

You stumble back to the far wall, shaking as the footsteps get closer.

The first thing you see is a pair of glowing orange eyes staring at you through the bars, and your breath leaves your lungs.

Is this really how you’re fated to die?

With ease, the mysterious figure rips off the door with what looks like a mechanical arm. The dim light hits him, and your entire body trembles. He’s covered in metal plating and armor, his face covered with a thick mask. He doesn’t strike you as human, except for what looks like human hair falling around his head.

He walks towards you, and you cower in his shadow. What does this machine want from you? You have nothing.

He says your name, and you freeze. It’s modulated and echoed from the mask, but you are certain that’s what he said.

And you’re also certain you’ve heard that voice before.

The figure reaches his hand towards you, the cold metal of his fingers touching your face. It tingles, as if there’s energy sparking through. His other hand lifts off his mask and drops it to the floor.

“Viktor?”

Parts of his face are covered with metal plating, but it’s undoubtedly him. Same eyes, same nose, same cheekbones. His hair swooping down the sides of his forehead and the small gap between his teeth.

You throw your arms around him and kiss him, your body hitting his metal torso hard enough to leave a bruise, but you don’t care. You kiss him until there’s not a single atom of oxygen left in your lungs, and even then you risk a few seconds more, his lips worthy of causing suffocation. Your fingers slide into his hair, just as soft as your remember. He gently embraces you back, wary of hurting you with how tightly he wishes to hold you.

“Viktor—I went to find you that day—“ you pant for air. “I thought you were dead—“

“I know, darling, I know,” he kisses your forehead before fervently returning to your lips. “I thought you were dead too before I heard word of people being sent here.”

He breaks apart from you and you let out a soft whine, “Vik-”

“I have to get you out of here now, okay?”

You nod in understanding and grab onto him as he puts his mask back on. He races back down the hall, pushing any leftover guards out of his way. You cling onto him, in disbelief that he moves so fast with ease. So many questions run through your mind, but you know you’ll have to wait for answers.

He carries and holds you in silence until you both get to safety. You don’t recognize the place he’s taken you to, but it’s undoubtedly his space. The tools and gadgets all over the tables and walls, the dim light you don’t understand how anyone could work under, the journals with different equations written barely legibly. You wonder if your old home is still standing or has been taken by someone else. Either way, this is your home now.

With him.

He takes off his mask and you’re once again met with his beautiful face. Scarred and tired, but still more beautiful than you’ve ever seen him.

“I’m so sorry. For everything,” he says. “I know I will never be able to make it up to you, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I am never letting you leave my sight again.”

Your bodies instinctively wrap around each-other, him picking you up and setting you down on one of his desks. The sensation is so new, since he’s never been strong enough to lift you before. Despite the novelty though, it feels as if no time has passed, as if this is a routine you’ve done every day, his hands all over you as soon as you’re alone.

You want to ignore the insanity of all this, how the love of your life has returned to you encased in metal. You want to forego all the questions, letting him continue his kisses on your neck and the wandering fingers on your thigh. You wonder what he feels like now—if it’s different—if what he can do to you now will make you forget every tear you ever shed for him.

You sigh, completely drunk on his touches.

“Viktor…” You look into his eyes, tracing your thumbs along his now metallic jaw. “I want to know what happened to you. Please.”

His caresses slow, his focus shifting to your words, “I will tell you everything, I promise,”

You grasp his hands, “Then tell me.”

He exhales, looking down at himself. He doesn’t want to think about it, doesn’t want to acknowledge the truth. He doesn’t want to risk you thinking of him differently or not loving him the same. Without you, he’d have nothing left to stay human for.

After all, he’s more machine than man now.

“I was as good as dead,” he finally says. “My injuries should’ve killed me, but an old…” he hesitates, “...friend found me. He helped me use hextech and shimmer to fix and augment my body. I’m stronger now, I can help more people now, I can protect you now. I’ve evolved beyond my human ailments-”

“Viktor,” you interrupt him. “Who helped you?”

He falls silent, fully aware you already know the answer.

“How could you?” you scold him. “How could you go back to that horrid, vile man? Who knows what he really did to you?”

“Singed may have unethical methods, but I assure you I’d be dead right now without him. You wouldn’t understand-”

“I understand that he sees you as nothing more than an experiment! What’s going to happen when this new body starts to break down? He’ll replace you with more mechanical parts until there’s nothing left of you. He does anything to make his specimens survive, and you know that!”

“So you’d rather me be dead? You’d rather still be in Stillwater, rotting your days away in misery?”

The floodgates of your glassy eyes break, and you let out the ugliest of sobs that have been building up for too long. No, you don’t want him dead, of course you don’t.

But there are fates worse than death.

You clumsily grab for him, pulling him between your legs and surrounding him with your limbs. Your lips crash together once more, this time more carnal and aggressive. Regardless of how angry you are, you can’t deny that you need him desperately. He cradles your face, wiping your tears away as they fall.

“Just promise me…” you beg into his mouth. “Promise me you won’t go back there again. Stay with me.”

“I promise,” he hums. “But you have to promise me something too.”

“What?” your eyes are already fluttering deliriously.

“You have to promise you’ll let me apologize every day of the rest of our lives,” he brushes his lips against your ear while his hands wander up your shirt, “And I think I know how you want me to do it.”

Your eyes widen, shivers already running down your spine.

***

It’s been so long, your body yearning for his as if you’ve been deprived from him for an eternity. You want to feel his new hands everywhere, his new fingers inside you…

Viktor wastes no time stripping you down, your shirt and bra flung across the room. He buries his face between your breasts for a moment before hoisting you up again, carrying you to the mattress in the corner.

“Since when do you ever have a proper place to sleep in your labs?” you laugh, sinking into the unexpected comfort.

“I didn’t get it for sleeping,” he smirks, placing kisses across your chest and shoulders, “I knew what I wanted to do as soon as I rescued you.”

“You’re telling me you got this bed just to fuck me?”

“Of course,” he shrugs, completely matter-of-factually.

You chuckle, a genuine smile stretching across your face so wide it almost hurts. You haven’t laughed or felt the pure joy and bliss of being in love in so long.

“I…” Viktor speaks again, hovering over you. “I don’t know fully what this new body can do. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“We’ll figure it out together,” you smile, intertwining your fingers with his. “Is it...different?”

“Everything’s different,” he leans down to kiss you again. “Let’s just hope it’s in a good way.”

You nod enthusiastically, pulling him down to you. His cold metal torso presses against yours, a surprisingly pleasant sensation. You quickly acclimate to the new textures of his figure, wondering if any skin still exists.

He remembers all the places you like to be touched and kissed, and you grow more impatient by the minute. You’ve needed him—ached for him. You want him in any way he can give you.

He pulls off the rest of your clothes, teasing his mechanical fingers in circles around your clit.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

“Mmhmm,” you moan, slithering your own fingers into his hair.

Viktor’s always been good with his hands, being an inventor and all. He’s never once failed to satisfy you with his hands alone since you’ve been together, and he certainly wasn’t stopping now. He goes slowly, constantly needing reassurance that you’re alright. There’s nothing sharp about his fingers, a relief to both of you. They move just like his old flesh did, pulsing in and out with the finest precision. There’s moments where you feel a slight vibration, although you’re unsure if he’s doing that purposefully. Either way, he keeps you in ecstasy until you eventually come undone.

You pull his lips back up to yours immediately, craving his taste. His hands run down your body once again before returning back to the same spot.

You yelp his name as he works more fingers inside you. This is unheard of, him going back for more so soon. You had grown accustomed to his low stamina from before, and you never minded multiple rounds being a rarity. But now there’s not a single hint of exhaustion on his face, his augments freeing him from much of the pain that used to plague him. Instead there’s determination in his eyes, a drive to make love to you until you can’t take it anymore.

He builds you up to your second orgasm of the night, kissing and holding you softly as you come down from it.

“Viktor…” you sigh, completely out of breath. “I want to make you feel good too.”

He shakes his head, watching as your hands slide down his body, “Darling, I...I’m not sure if everything works the same. You don’t have to worry about me—“

“Let me try,” you plead. “Does any of this come off?”

He nods, removing the outer layers of metal with clicks and hisses. It was hard for you to tell where the armor ended and his body began, but the more he takes off, the more you recognize his familiar silhouette. There’s still patches of flesh here and there—warm skin to your fingertips, fused with the augmentations flawlessly.

And it seems the area you’ve wanted to see is one of the places untouched.

Well, not completely untouched. It’s covered in glowing purple veins, throbbing like they’ll explode any second. Viktor looks into your eyes nervously, and you reassure him with a kiss.

“It’ll be okay,” your breaths are hot, hovering over his lips. “Now tell me what you want, darling.”

“You.” he moans as your hand takes hold of his hardness.

“Everything seems to be working fine to me,” you smile, lining him up with your entrance. “I’m ready when you are.”

He’s shaking, for the first time since all his enhancements. He’s been so strong—no—indestructible, yet one look at you and the vulnerability returns in crashing waves. He’s still the same man you fell in love with, but now he could too easily hurt you.

He presses in slowly, eyes locked on your expressions for any sign of discomfort, but they never come. Instead, the noises and faces you make could be enough for him to finish right then and there if he didn’t have such control.

“Viktor…” you sigh, pulling him towards you as he bottoms out. “I’m okay. Are you okay?”

He stamps kisses on your jaw, then nuzzles his nose into your neck, “You feel even better than I remembered.”

“Do I now?” you chuckle, brushing some of his hair out of his eyes as he looks back up at you.

“Mmhmm,” he begins to thrust in and out slowly, earning more luscious sounds from your lips.

There’s so much of him that feels the same, but the sensation is so new. Is he bigger than before? Is it just the different texture from the shimmer experiments? You’re not sure, all you truly care about is that he feels divine.

You’re both getting close, whispering “I love you’s” until the long awaited release. He holds you tightly afterwards, refusing to let go until you both catch your breath.

“Viktor,” you ruffle his hair. “As amazing as that was, I don’t think I can handle a round four.”

He chuckles, “That’s alright. I’ll only go as long as you want me to. There’s always tomorrow.”

You giggle, kissing the top of his head. You push yourself up on your elbows, looking at the mess you both made, “I think we ruined your new mattress.”

He glances as well, noticing the cum stains, some of them a light purple color, a supposed side effect of the shimmer, “We’ll get a new one. For now lets get you cleaned up.”

He picks you up in one swift motion, carrying you outside. His new lab is conveniently next to the river, and far away enough from other houses to protect your decency. The water is cold, but not unbearably so. The stickiness rinses off, and you’re left to admire your lover once again in the moonlight.

He glistens under the stars, his gaze soft and sweet, just as it’s always been. His hands never leave you, caressing your wet skin gently and adoringly.

He’s still everything you’ve ever wanted. He’s still the man you’d die and kill for.

He’s still the one you’ll spend the rest of your days with, no matter what he becomes.

[squiddy-god]

types of affection

(xiao, childe, albedo, zhongli)

What types of affection do they prefer giving and receiving? Yet another re upload

♥︎REQUEST ARE OPEN♥︎ don't be shy, send request for any of the fandoms on my fandom list, you can even recommend shows/games if they aren't there. Or even if you just want to chat! Anon is also always open!

Xiao 

Giving : gift giving, acts of service 

Alright so xiao knows very little about affection, his words are to rigid and his actions stiff, so those are out- 

But he gifts you things, its cute really, the bright blush on his face when he gifts you unusual gifts. 

Anything that reminds you of him, a pinecone he saw under leaves, small trinkets and animals made from leafs, rocks and smooth stones he finds by the water reeds, anything really

You won't know it at first but all the gifts he gives you are adeptal amulets, they ward of evil and bring protection, he'd never admit this fact but it's true, he fears for you so if you find hilichurls suddenly running from you its most likely coming from the small gift xiao gave 

Acts of service can vary, anything from accompanying you on a commission to clearing out a camp of hillichurls that was in your path, xiao finds himself doing little things for you

Receiving : acts of service, physical touch, words of affirmation, quality time 

Xiao has been serving liuye for thousands of years, if you do anything for him hes going to be smitten 

Xiao likes to say that the things he does is solely his burden to carry, but the things you do for him he appreciates greatly, anything from making him almond tofu to rubbing his shoulders after a fight

His favorite to receive is if you play an instrument, even just humming a tune, it calms him and lets him feel at ease, like the karmic debt no longer beats on his soul. 

While xiao is stiff when giving physical affection at first, to scared of hurting you to initiate it, he does love it 

Xiao has most likely never felt or has forgotten the feeling of genuine physical affection, the feeling of your skin against his, your hands spread against his chest, its addicting t him 

Xiao likes to feel loved, the fact that you want him close to you, that you feel safe in his arms, it warms his heart and makes him realise what he's been missing for so long, and now that he knows the feeling, he craves it 

Xiao won't initiate physical touch, but he longs for it, and if you're on the roof of Wangshu Inn he expects you to be near him, as close as possible.

Xiao is insecure, his thoughts rage and cloud his mind, he often has doubts, and while he knows that you wouldn't simply leave him, and he has faith in you, words of affirmation are appreciated 

Tell him that he's loved, that you aren't going anywhere, that he’s enough and will always be enough

He claims he doesn't need reassurance but the way his arms hold you tighter says otherwise 

Xiao is also a fan of quality time, simply being in your presence calms him and he craves the feeling of you next to him. 

At times like this spoken words are not needed, he just wants to know your next to him.

Childe (tartaglia) 

Giving : gift giving, acts of service, physical touch 

While the concept is the same, the execution is far different from xiao 

Childe gifts you lots of expensive things, if he sees it and ir remiss him of you, or you stare at something to long- there's no holding him back 

That being said all of his gifts are very well thought out and usually very sentimental 

He gifts things that have meaning, things that relate to your interest and hobbies- and trust me, he knows all of your interest and hobbies (S I M P) 

I have a headcanon that childe is hopelessly pathetic at arts and crafts, it always ends up as a disaster and he gets embarrassed, so he’s probably tried to make you something and it turned out,,,charming yet awful,,,he was about to scrap it when you saw it and it's probably the only time you've seen mr. saveu fatui so flustered 

Childes acts of service are a lot difret from xiaos-

Xiao wants to make your life a little easier, childe wants a hit list 

Deadass this man wants names and, if you would be so kind, addresses 

If you need someone taken care of then he's your man, and he gets excited about it too (psychopath) 

Of course he’ll also do normal things for you, like helping you lift boxes too heavy for you, or beating up hillichurls, he’ll even cook for you! He’ll honestly do anything you ask (S I M P) 

Childe is especially clingy as work takes him away so often, besides that he strikes me and a generally touchy guy, he likes to feel close to you 

Big fan of having you in his lap but he’ll settle for anything he can get, be it hand holding or an arm around your waste he’ll take it. 

Receiving : gift giving, physical touch, words of affirmation 

Child doesn't want you to buy thing for him, he wants handmade things, even if your as hopeless as he is, his heart melts if you gift him something you made,

Anything you make him becomes one of his most treasured possessions, it becomes something he genuinely cherishes and he wont shut up about it 

He’ll gush about it for weeks and no one can stop him 

As i said before, childe is a touchy guy, he likes to feel you against him, but you initiate affection? YES YES YES YES YES sign him up 

 He seems like he'd enjoy if you came up behind him and hugged him, hed tease you at first but inside hes melting and squealing 

Praise him, he lives for it tbh 

If he beat a hard monster tell him how strong he is, childe is a prideful man and your praise is something he greatly enjoys 

Complimenting him on just about anything will get you rewarded with a barrage of kisses and a firm hug 

Btw he gives great hugs, theyre strong hugs that make you think “holy hell did you fight a bear?” and they have a warmth to them that makes you feel at home. He doesn't do side hugs, it's full on hugs or no hugs 

Back to words, if you get sappy and genuinely sentimental he will get SO flustered 

Albedo 

Giving : quality time, gift giving 

Albedo loves spending time with you, weather you simply keep him company during his experiments or walking with him thru the streets of mondstat, albedo loves spending time with you 

Claims he focuses better if your in his presence (it's a total lie) 

Albedo likes to be able to sit with you while you eat, he's big on eating together and it gives him a (much needed) break 

He also loves taking walks with you, the closeness brings a warm feeling to his chest and a smile to his face 

Albedo also enjoys giving you pictures, often times theyre of you or things that make him think of you, anything from a sketch of you working or of a flower that made him think of you, a cute bird or a simple landscape, no matter what the sketch is of he always takes time to explain exactly why he decided to sketch that particular item or moment 

His reasons are always very sweet, especially when he shyly tells you he just thought you looked cute in that moment. 

Don't be surprised if you get a random branch or twig on your desk or nightstand, because albedo with casually take leaves and turn them into twigs (like in his idle animation) especially when he finds his mind wandering to you

Albedo is a sweetheart and wants to spend time with you.

Receiving : quality time and acts of service 

Albedo loves that you want to spend time with him, he wants you to be as interested in him as he is with you, so your enthusiasm to spend time with him makes him happy

He likes doing domestic things with you, cooking, cleaning, eating meals together are all things he greatly enjoys

He also loves it if your interested in his work, sitting and watching him work makes his heart soar and makes him feel loved 

Look, i like albedos voice a lot, it so calming and gentle- so like, sitting in bed by candle light, leaned against albedos shoulder while he reads outloud, occasionally planting a kiss on the crown of your head

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Albedo appreciates you doing little things for him (his quest be like) 

This isn't just you running errands for him but also things like bringing him a little snack or a cup of water, dusting his study (don't move things, just dust) helping him button his shirt (dse it even have buttons?) things like that, small things that just make his life a little easier 

*cough* kissing his temple and handing him a cup of coffee, sleepy voice whispering a little encouragement while he turns to give you a proper kiss. *cough* 

Overall albedo is very chill and his affection is much the same, gentle domestic things and time spent together never fails to put a smile on his face 

I love domestic albedo 

Zhongli 

Another domestic husband 

Giving : quality time and words of affirmation 

Zhongli absolutely LOVES quality time spent with you, he loves to simply be able to bask in your presence, to calmly sip tea and listen to your voice 

Its often that zhongli will be sitting quietly in whatever room your in, it doesn't matter what your doing, be it dishes or reading, he’ll be sitting and watching you with nothing but adoration in his eyes 

He also loves when you sit next to him, curled up by his side while he reads to you or tells you stories 

His voice is *chef kiss* and listening to his storeys is always so calming 

The gentle like filtering threw the windows as his voice recounts tales of many years ago, his gloved thumb gently smoothing over your cheek. His arm wrapped around your shoulders as you sip your tea and eagerly listen to him. 

Zhongli is domestic, long hours of time where he does nothing but savor the feeling of being with you, no need for spoken words when everything feels as if it has slipped into place. 

Zhongli has a very proper way of speaking, his words carry the weight of mountains behind them, nothing spoken without meaning and intent behind them

Zhongli has no issue speaking his mind, and the same applies to you. 

He gives lots of complements, especially when he notices something different about you 

You'll never doubt zhonglis love, how could you when his words are always spoken like facts? 

I mean how can you argue when he states complements as if theyre set in stone? 

The simple answer is that you can't. And if you try to argue you’ll face the wrath of the rock (his kisses lmao)

Receiving : physical affection and quality time  

Shhhhhhhhhhh- zhongli loves physical affection and i'll die on this hill

 Zhongli after so many lonly years finally has you,  and he longs for the touch of your hands and the feeling of your lips on his 

Zhongli melts into your touch, leaving into your hand cupping his face while he kisses your wrist with the utmost gentleness 

Zhongli can't imagine he's comfortable to cuddle with, his skin is tight and has little to no give, his body is as hard as a rock, yet you snuggle into his side- it always brings a smile to his face 

Zhongli is not an impulsive man yet he is often overcome with the burning urge to kiss you, he thinks hes slick but its all to obvious how his eyes drift and fixate on your lips, if you look close enough you might even see the way his pupils dilate, drawing into thinner slits when they stare

Zhongli loves if you take the time to get ready with him in the mornings, spending the morning with you is always very pleasant 

Idk bout you but i'd be glad to get woken up if i was getting woken up by zhonglis voice 

He wakes up early and brews tea every morning, and once its done he’ll rub circles on your back to gently wake you up, placing a kiss on your head and asking how you slept. 

PLEASE offer to tie his tie for him he will melt 

Hed smile and let you tie his tie, gently taking your wrists in his large hands and placing a kiss on your knuckles before planting a kiss on your lips 

Domestic zhongli is the best zhongli