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whoreforsexymen · 2 months ago

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Strong Drinks & Broken Links 🍺⛓️‍💥 CH. 1

Gray Hair & The Absence of Care

(Gif creds: me <3)

Pairing(s): Vander x Reader

Pronouns: GN!Reader (for now— please see this post for details)

Rating: SFW, except for strong language and consumption of alcohol (drink responsibly, people). Reader is old enough to drink, despite what Vander thinks.

Word count: 4.7k (the rest are going to be far longer, so be prepared)

Tags: Slowburn, Reader is implied to be 21+ years old, Age Gap, Heavy Use Of Language/Alcohol, Reader might be a little too angsty (I’m sorry), Tense Situations, Vander being the caring mentor type he is but in a poorly thought out way.

Notes: I don't think I've ever posted a fic on this account. So, welcome to my only outlet for the brain rotting obsession I have for this man. ALSO I SWEAR TO GOD NO ONE MENTION ANYTHING ABOUT SEASON 2, OR I'LL FIGHT YOU.

((If any of you want to be added to a tag list for this fic, please lmk!! Ask box is also open for requests/suggestions/comments 🤍 feedback is always appreciated 🤍🤍))

It had been a terrible night so far.

Not only had you been shortchanged more than two-thirds of the agreed-upon pay for a job you’d completed—but that paltry sum had quickly slipped from your grasp entirely, taken by a gang of thugs.

You had to give the undercity credit—it had an uncanny ability to remain a perpetual cesspool. You’d managed to take down two of the muggers, but the third—the one who’d made off with your coin—had slipped away while you were dealing with the others. Just your luck. The payout had been pathetic to begin with, and now you were left with nothing but the bitter taste of failure. It looked like you’d be scraping the dregs of the city to find enough for your next meal, yet again.

That is, unless you decide to drink your dinner. As well as your sorrows, in the process. The idea struck you as you neared the central bar of the undercity, still sulking as you were making your way back to the shack you called home. The Last Drop. A name that said it all. If there was any place where the undercitizens of Zaun gathered, it was here. No doubt the owner had to be the wealthiest man in the area, though that wasn’t exactly saying much in a place like this.

You made your decision. A warm meal might be out of reach, but liquor could suffice—if you drank heavily enough, that is. Or at the very least, it might dull the sting of the night’s failures.

The bar was an eyesore, a hulking building among the rundown structures of The Lanes. A garish neon sign blinked above the entrance, buzzing like an angry fly, casting sickly light on the grime-streaked pavement. Inside, the din of loud music and the clatter of drunken chatter spilled into the street. It was a haven for folks with any background, no matter if they sought business or pleasure within its walls.

You pushed through the door, noting how no one even bothered to glance your way. That was how you liked it—under the radar, always out of sight, always out of the mind of untrustworthy beings.

Then again, you didn’t trust anyone anyway.

You duck and weave through the crowd of rowdy patrons, eyes scanning the bar for a table or booth at which you could hunker down and nurse your drink in peace. Your frown deepens beneath the hood of your jacket when you come up empty-handed. Typical. No matter, though. You’d have to order at the bar anyway, regardless of where you sat.

It’s when your eyes settle in the direction of the bar that luck seems to briefly shine upon you—there’s an empty stool. Without hesitation, you make a beeline for it, not wanting some drunken fool to snag it before you could. You practically dive-bomb onto the seat, landing with a small grunt, air knocked from your lungs. After the night you’ve had, this stool feels like an oasis, despite the new absence of oxygen beneath your chest. You settle into it like it’s the only thing left in the world, clutching the seat as if someone might try to commandeer it if you let your guard down low enough.

The realization dawns on you that, in order to get a drink, you’d have to interact with the bartender. You hold that fact in high regard with contempt.

Chit-chat? Not tonight– or truthfully any night. You’ve never been crazy about casual conversation. The events of the evening have only soured your mood further, and the last thing you need is some eager bartender trying to make nice. Normally, you’d avoid sitting at the bar for that reason alone, yet here you are.

Thankfully, the bartender pays you no mind, his attention fully set on the patron he’s currently tending to. That is, until said patron leaves and the barman finally turns to you, his new source of focus.

The sheer momentum with which you rolled your eyes almost knocked you out of your seat.

“Welcome to The Last Drop. What’ll it be?” His voice is deep, and heavy, garnering a thick accent that clung to every word.

He’s an older man, though exactly how old is hard for you to pin down. His hair’s gray, his eyes tired, the lines of age having etched themselves into his face long ago. However, there’s something youthful about him—something that makes it hard to tell whether he’s an old-looking thirty or a young-ish fifty. Frankly, you don’t care enough to continue your mental evaluation of him. Age shouldn’t matter when it comes to bartenders. They either know how to pour a decent drink, or they don’t.

You don’t waste time with pleasantries.

“Something strong.” You mutter, your voice mostly flat, but with a hint of irritation that danced along the edge.

The bartender scratches at his graying beard, his gaze thoughtful as he considers your request. You grit your teeth, hoping he won’t try to scam you by giving you something weak and overpriced, just to line his pockets with your hard-earned coin. You’d seen it happen to others, and you’d be a damned fool if you let it happen to you.

The bartender studies your face, or at least what he can see of it beneath your hood, before his gaze shifts to the shelves beneath the counter. After a moment of deliberation, he selects a bottle with thoughtful ease, pulling the cork out with his teeth. With his free hand, he grabs a tin cup and pours in a copious amount, sliding it toward you with a swift flick of his wrist. You’d almost call it a generous decision on his part, considering the fact that you hadn’t even paid your dues first. His choice to serve you first goes a long way in easing your suspicion, at least for the moment.

You dig into your pocket, retrieving the few gold coins you’d managed to hold onto when dealing with the aforementioned thugs. They weren’t enough for one measly meal, but they were enough for a drink or two– or three, but who’s going to keep track? Certainly anyone but you. You’d only stop once your pitiful wealth ran out. Without a second thought, you toss them onto the bar top, making it unspokenly clear to the bartender that you were hoping for much more than just this one drink. You grab the cup, lifting it to your lips and downing the lot of it in one quick, greedy gulp. The warmth spreads through you almost immediately, and it feels like a small victory over the obnoxious turn your night has taken.

The bartender watches this with a faint chuckle before you slam the empty cup back down onto the counter. He takes it without a word, refills the tiny tin chalice, and begins passing it back. Without missing a beat, you grab the cup from him, draining the contents in a second gulp before he even has time to set the bottle back down.

“You look like you’ve seen better days,” he remarks casually, his voice low and steady as he finally reunites the bottom of the bottle with the countertop.

“I’ve seen a lot of things.” you mutter, your eyes fixed on anything but him. The words come out flat, though there’s a weight to them. It’s more than just a refusal to talk—it’s a refusal to let anyone look too closely. You avoid eye contact like the plague. Eyes, after all, are the windows to the soul. And letting someone peer through them is a risky gamble you’ve never been apt to take.

You were clearly beyond uninterested in the beginnings of this conversation. The lack of willingness to be friendly reigning clear as you shove the tin cup towards him yet again. He grabs the empty cup and refills it once more—your third drink in under five minutes. He seems reluctant to hand it back. He maintains a grip on it as he eyes you again, this time much more thoughtful.

“Care to chat about it? Might be healthier than drownin’ yourself at the bottom of a bottle,” he offers plainly.

You give him a sidelong glance, not even trying to mask the edge in your voice.

“Doesn’t sound like a good business strategy, encouraging your paying customers to cut back.” You fire back quickly, the sharpness of your words outpacing even your annoyance at the unwanted conversation.

The bartender chuckles again, a spark of amusement flickering in his tired eyes. There’s a glimmer of understanding in his smile—maybe he’s seen more than a few like you in this dive. Or maybe, he knows in the same fashion as you, that sometimes it’s more palatable to fill the silence with alcohol than with words.

“Fair point, but I’d prefer to keep my patrons alive. Helps me sleep at night, y’know?” The bartender shoots back, his eyes fixed on you, all too curious about what’s hidden beneath your hood. The conversation quickly turns uncomfortable, a painful reminder of why you’ve never liked bartenders—they always talk too much and ask too many personal questions. As far as you’re concerned, they should stick to the charade for the sake of their regulars, and leave all unsuspecting customers alone.

The momentum of yet another roll of your eyes causes your head to bob ever so slightly— your hood creeping back towards the line of your hair. The new, incredibly subtle, view of your face made the barman clench the cup in his hands with rigor.

His eyes narrow slightly, the amusement fading from his voice.

“Where’re your parents, kid?” He asks, his voice low and in demand of an answer.

The question hits you like a slap, and for a brief second, you find yourself caught off guard. You’re not someone who’s usually thrown by imbecilic remarks from the residents of The Lanes, but this one? It’s different. Not just the audacity of asking such a personal question, but the clear assumption of your age being made so boldly.

Your head snaps up, and before you can stop yourself, you push your hood back, breaking your own rule about eye contact. Why? Who knows. Today has already gone off the rails, and you’re too far gone to care. The liquor’s sudden grip on your senses began to cloud your judgment, and honestly, it was far from shocking. To be fair, you had asked for something strong… Not to mention having no substantial food in your belly to dilute the potency you sought after. All in all, there was no ignoring how the liquor was starting to pummel you like a brick to the face would.

You meet his gaze, eyes scanning his face for any sign of what he’s gunning after by asking such a question. But there’s nothing obvious behind those gloomy eyes of his. No clear motive. You can’t tell if he’s purposefully trying to get under your skin or if he’s just another fool with a quick tongue.

“Rotting in their graves,” you mutter, voice sharp and, in addition, spiteful.

“Which I’m sure you’ve got one foot in, yourself, Gramps.” You make a mockery of the decades that are clearly stacked against you, hoping to push him back into his corner.

He doesn’t flinch. Instead, he practically snorts, running a hand over his silvery beard as he crosses his arms; resting them across his stomach with the casual authority of someone who’s seen it all. He’s not rattled by your quips—no, not in the slightest.

“How old are you, kid?” His voice is flat now, a hint of something more serious creeping in, though you can’t figure out why. You’re even more unsure now about his intentions. Constantly expecting the worst from people was your lot in life.

“Too young for you.” You snap back, pushing forward with your usual sharpness, trying to regain some control over this ridiculous conversation. You reach for the cup he had refilled for you, but before you can even graze it, he snatches it away, clicking his tongue like a disappointed parent.

“Tsk, tsk,” he tuts at you, as if you’ve done something wrong.

“I asked how old you were.” he repeats, his voice now devoid of any amusement.

He watches you carefully, his gaze inspecting your face as if he’s trying to peel back layers you didn’t even know were there.

You roll your eyes, irritation growing, and narrow them at him, unwilling to back down. You can’t tell if he’s probing for something deeper, or if he’s just getting off on making you uncomfortable. Either way, you’re done playing his game.

“Why are you so curious, huh?” you scoff, leaning in and making a bold decision to double down on your irritation. “I’m just another patron here to drown in my sorrows and drink them away. Not to mention, I’m paying for the privilege.” Your words are bold, and with that same boldness, you reach across the bar and rip the cup from his grasp.

You try to bring the drink to your lips, intent on finishing it off. But just as the cup nears your mouth, the bartender’s large, rough hand slips over the opening of the cup like a solar eclipse.

He glares down at you, his eyes narrowing as he sizes you up with a look that could strip paint. In that moment, something clicks in his mind. The defiance in your voice, the way you’re carrying yourself—it all reinforces his suspicion. You’re not old enough to be here. When you walked in, your hood had obscured most of your face. But now that it’s gone, he can see it clearly: you’re just a kid, trying to score some alcohol. The only thing that kept him from throwing you out on your ass, was your cadence. You looked young, and spoke carelessly, but you sounded grown. If you were in fact grown, he’d ease up.

However, with the way you look—bloodied and bruised, no less—he’s convinced you’re in some kind of trouble. The kind of trouble he doesn’t want being drug through his bar. He doesn’t know where you’ve been, who you’ve pissed off, or what kind of people you run with. But this? This is his bar, and he’s fought too hard to maintain the fragile peace that reigns here. He won’t let you ruin that for him and his loyal patrons by dragging your poor choices in with you.

“Seems I’ve struck a nerve,” he says, his voice no longer playful but flat and serious. “Either tell me your age, or you’re cut off.”

The room seems to hush around you. The muffled chatter of patrons behind you fades as the bartender’s tone sharpens, leaving no room for argument. It’s a quiet threat now, the kind that lets you know exactly how much leverage you have—and how little he’s willing to tolerate.

“You didn’t strike shit,” You hiss. “and I don’t need to answer to shit.” You add.

The bartender bends over the counter, his face inches from yours. The bitter scent of smoke hangs thick on his breath, hot and rancid, and it presses against your skin like a physical weight. The damp air in the bar swirls around you, brushing your cheeks with an uncomfortable warmth that feels suffocating, as if the room itself is closing in.

“Keep talkin’ like that, and I’ll have no problem lettin’ my loyal patrons cut your tongue out for us to hang above the bar.” He says fiercely.

You glance over your shoulder, catching the eyes of the dozens of patrons who have fallen silent, their conversations and business abruptly halted. It’s clear—they’re waiting for a signal, ready to back up their beloved bartender if things escalate.

“You can call off the cavalry, Gramps. I was just leaving,” you retorted, swiping one of your coins from the counter, as if to refund yourself for the drink you’ve yet to have. You release your grip on the cup, almost slingshotting it backwards from the sheer force you two had each been bestowing upon it.

“Sit down.” the bartender commands, his voice low and final, as you attempt to abscond.

You don’t reply, instead moving to shoulder through the row of patrons who are standing like silent sentinels, waiting for the slightest nod from their bar’s gatekeeper. It’s not like you expected them to part, but the way not a single person dares budge makes your blood boil. The crowd might as well be a wall of stone.

“Sit. Down.” the bartender demands again, his tone sharper this time, a razor edge cutting through the haze of the bar.

You grind your teeth, your patience wearing thin.

“I’ll take my patronage elsewhere—”

You don’t even finish your sentence before a hand, seemingly out of nowhere, pushes you roughly back. You stumble, barely managing to stop yourself from falling flat on your ass. The sudden movement sends a rush of heat to your head, the anger spiking through your veins like fire.

You seethed at the touch, the anger burning hot in your chest, every muscle in your body coiled with frustration. But you knew better than to keep pushing your luck. Not today. Not in a situation like this, with dozens of hungry eyes watching, their hands twitching near their weapons of choice, waiting for the slightest excuse to make a move.

Biting back a torrent of curses, you forced yourself to swallow your pride, choosing to stay quiet—at least for now. It wasn’t worth the fight. You could practically feel the heat of their glares digging into your back as you turned on your heel, eyes locking once more with the bartender’s. You reclaimed your seat at the bar with deliberate flair, each movement oozing a sense of defiance and attitude. It was a performance, one you were used to. To you, it felt like you were playing the part of someone tough. But you knew, deep down, that to anyone else—especially the bartender—you probably looked like nothing more than a naive, immature idiot who didn’t know when to shut up. It wasn’t a great look, but at least it kept people from getting too close.

“I’m sat,” you muttered, voice brimming with the remnants of your irritation.

The bartender shook his head slightly, a hint of amusement creeping back into his expression. You could feel the tension in the room dissipate, the energy shifting as the crowd behind you resumed their rowdy conversations. The noise began to swell again, and for a moment, it almost felt like the bar was returning to some semblance of normalcy.

He grabbed a dirty glass from the counter, handling it with practiced ease, and pulled a rag from beneath the bar. As he began polishing the glass, he didn’t so much as glance your way. His focus was on the glass, and for a few moments, it felt like you were nothing more than a background detail to him. You could feel your impatience growing with each passing second. If he had something to say, you wished he’d just say it already. At least that way, you could get out of here—and maybe keep some of your pride intact.

The bartender continued his slow, methodical motions, running the rag around the rim of the glass with an almost exaggerated calmness. He didn’t bother to look up, yet you could feel the weight of his gaze on you through the silence.

“I’m gonna ask you again,” he said, his tone neutral, almost too much. “How old are you?”

You weighed your options. If you didn’t answer, you had no idea what would happen next. If you did answer, you still had no clue. It was a gamble either way.

“(Insert age here),” you muttered, the words slipping out begrudgingly, each one like a weight lifting off your chest.

The bartender scoffed lightly, a soft laugh escaping him that made your skin crawl. Your fingers began tapping impatiently on the bar’s edge, the rhythm a soft counterpoint to the growing tension between you.

“____ years old and still so naive… You really are just a kid, eh?” His words hung in the air, his eyes still locked on the glass in front of him, but you could see the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“There are worse things I could be,” you shot back, your voice laced with a mix of defensiveness and defiance.

“S’pose that’s true,” he replied, finishing up his polishing with the air of someone who had all the time in the world. He set the glass down next to the others—clean, polished, and waiting to be used. With a fluid motion, he slung the rag over his shoulder, then placed one hand on his hip and the other on the edge of the counter. He shifted his weight, leaning just slightly into the bar, his posture relaxed yet somehow still imposing.

“But on the other hand,” he said, his voice dropping to a more serious tone, “what you already are ain’t too good either.”

It wasn’t a threat—more of an observation, one that hung heavily in the air, like the smoke in the room. You felt the weight of it, but you couldn’t quite tell if it was a warning or just another way to mess with you. Either way, you could tell this conversation wasn’t over.

You could feel the first few bubbles of anger rising in your chest, the heat creeping up your neck as your blood threatened to boil. You’d always been quick to anger—an unfortunate side effect of your temper and stubborn streak. They were the crosses you’d carried for as long as you could remember.

You scoffed again, the sound sharp and biting, as if it were the only defense you had left. You had already rolled your eyes a dozen times tonight, but it felt like you were on the verge of an explosion.

“What’s your goal here, Gramps?” you spat, your voice dripping with sass, every word a little jab. You didn’t care to hide your bitterness. You liked to fight with words just as much as you did with your fists, and the bartender was starting to see that loud and clear.

“You got the answer you were looking for. Whether you believe me or not, you’ve already served me twice. If my age was such a concern to you, you would’ve kicked me out long before I even sat down.” Your words hung in the air once more, and you could see the gears turning behind his eyes, but he didn’t speak.

He just let out a quiet laugh, as if your logic amused him. And he didn’t bother to answer, not even in the slightest.

The silence stretched, thick and tense, and it was clear he wasn’t going to explain himself. He wasn’t about to give you the satisfaction of an explanation. He simply leaned back, eyes flicking over to the rowdy crowd behind you.

It was infuriating.

You stayed silent for a beat, but only because you knew you’d have more to say. And damn right, you did.

“Do you do this with every new customer?” You snapped, your voice rising now, the frustration boiling over. “’Cause if you ask me, I’m not sure how this shithole’s still in business. You discourage your customers from drinking, even though this is a fucking bar, and that’s all people come here to do. You make it impossible to drink peacefully, just like you make it impossible to drink at all!”

The words spilled out like fire, each one more forceful than the last. Your temper was no longer something you were trying to hold back—it was running rampant, and it felt good to let it out, even if it was in the form of a scream. You weren’t about to let this bartender—this stubborn old man—have the upper hand. Not when it felt like he was deliberately pushing your buttons.

“So if it’s alright with you, Gramps, you got your answer, and I don’t owe you shit. I’m leaving.” You actually raise your voice purposefully this time, slamming your hands down onto the counter as you push yourself off of the stool once more.

The bartender wasn’t fazed by your outburst. In fact, he’d dealt with feistier, louder, and much more difficult people than you—people who could out-shout you or out-punch you if they had to. He wasn’t bothered by your temper. He had raised four kids on his own, after all. He’d learned a thing or two about handling stubborn personalities, whether they were kids or grown adults who carried themselves like children. And you, in his eyes, were just another brat testing his patience.

“You’re not going anywhere.” His voice was steady, calm, and authoritative, with an edge of finality that cut through the noise of the bar.

Before you could react, his hand shot out faster than you expected, grabbing your shoulder with an unexpected gentleness. He tugged you back into the seat with a kind of effortless force that made your breath catch in your throat.

You shot up from the bar stool in a flash, but his hold was stronger than you anticipated.

Instinct kicked in, and your own hand shot out like a snake, grabbing his wrist with a quick, almost violent motion. You shoved it off your shoulder, irritation flaring up like wildfire.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, your chest heaving as you glared up at him, the heat of the moment burning in your eyes.

You huffed, your fists clenching at your sides, teeth grinding. The room seemed to close in around you, but you weren’t backing down—not now, not after all of this. The tension between you and the bartender was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. You could feel the weight of the crowd’s silent attention being drawn to you once more as they waited for your next move, but you weren��t afraid. You didn’t have time to be.

The man let out a heavy sigh, the sound thick with disappointment.

“Look, kid—”

“By the fucking god’s, I’m not a kid!” you snapped, your eyes flashing a level of ferocity that sliced straight through him.

He pressed his lips into a thin, hard line, his gaze cemented on you still as he took a long, steadying breath. Patience was his virtue, and he was willing to endure this sparring match for as long as it took.

“It’s clear you’re in some kind of trouble,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Maybe, just maybe, instead of lashing out, you could let someone help—”

You cut him off mid-sentence, your words an unpleasant interruption.

“Help? You want to help? Surely that’s the wrong word. Surely, I heard you wrong, cause, from the way I see it, you’ve done nothing except cage me in here, threaten me, and withhold what I paid for. So if it’s with any consolation, take your ‘help’ and fuck off.”

Enough was enough. Without another word, you climbed atop the stool, bracing yourself for what came next. You steadied your balance, then launched yourself toward the crowd with calculated precision. The dismount was quick—intentional, forceful. You tucked your legs in, soaring over their heads in a perfect flip, and extended them just before hitting the ground behind them. Without pausing, you bolted for the door, heart pounding in your chest.

To your surprise, you made it—flying through the door and slamming it shut behind you with a satisfying crash. Finally, you were free, never to be seen within a hundred yards of this bar ever again.

The patrons had made a half-hearted attempt to grab at you as you rushed past, but a sharp, deafening whistle from the bartender stopped them in their strides. He shook his head softly, a silent message that it wasn’t worth the chase. That it was better to let you go. If you were in trouble, it would catch up with you soon enough.

Deep down, the bartender hated seeing someone so young seal their own fate in such a way. But, in the end, there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t save them all—no matter how badly he wished he could.

He couldn’t help but wonder— if maybe, just maybe, he’d been a little too assertive, or downright impetuous with you after all.

But it didn’t matter now. You were gone. All he could do was hope you’d survive out on those streets.

taglist: @blogforhoes @committingcrimes-2047 @dirtandcrime @eternalgoddessofart @woozulo @lutaaaslostacc-d8 @heidiland05 @sugaaawaraaa @glenn-slayer

#arcane #arcane x reader fic #arcane x reader #vander arcane #vander x reader #vander x reader fic #vander x reader smut #vander x gn!reader #vander x reader arcane #vander x female reader #arcane imagine #vander x reader imagine

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jeonaissance · 5 months ago

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Flight Attendant :; J.JK

- Summary: Jungkook has his own jet for work purpose but he always use it for another reason - meet his favorite flight attendant.

- Pairing: Jungkook x Female reader

- Genre: smut, 18+

a/n: Hello, this is my first work, please be gentle and friendly when you leaves a comment. English is not my first language so maybe I had some mistakes in it, please forget it 🥺

Jungkook had a meeting with a partner in Canada that required him to be there in person, so he prepared for a flight on his private jet.

Jungkook really liked this jet, or rather, he liked the person on this jet.

That's right, Y/N was the most charming woman he had ever met, and also the most difficult to please, and guess what, she was his flight attendant.

"Good evening, Mr. Jeon. I hope you have a good flight. If you need anything, please let me know." Y/N smiled and greeted him.

Jungkook lifted her chin, using his thumb to caress her face.

"Long time no see, you've become much prettier. I hope you're ready to make this flight of mine more meaningful." He teased her.

"That's what I have to do."

He raised the corner of his mouth slightly, the hand on her face gradually moved down to her neck, and finally placed it on her breast. His fingers slightly caressed her sensitive skin.

"Is that so? Okay, I believe you can do your job well."

He leaned close to her ear and whispered.

"Y/N, anyway, when you're lying on my bed, you know how to satisfy me."

"For me, whether it's on the bed or anywhere else, it doesn't matter." Y/N confidently replied.

His eyes gradually darkened with lust. His other hand hugged her butt and gently squeezed it. He got closer, so close that he wanted to stick to her, making her clearly feel the bulge under his pants.

Y/N reached down, touching the thing that was bulging below through the fabric. Her eyes were still looking at him provocatively.

"What's wrong? Are you already so horny before we even took off?"

"Whose fault is it? You should get ready, if I’m not fucking you all night today, I'm not Jeon Jungkook."

Jungkook lowered his head and kissed her lips, one hand pulling her shirt up to caress her breasts, the other hand touching her private part through the fabric.

"You're wet, I haven't done anything yet. You want my cock inside you so much, right?"

"Give it to me, please..."

His fingers entered her pussy, each thrust getting stronger, her whole body trembled, moans spontaneously escaping from her beautiful lips. She hugged his neck, letting him continue to tease her lower body.

"Tell me, what do you want?"

Jungkook still didn't stop. His hand fondled one of her nipples, the other he sucked and bit lightly, making her both hurt and excited.

"Jungkook... I want your cock..."

"That's right, good girl. Honey, spread your legs."

Jungkook laid her on the bed, unbuckled his belt himself, and dropped his pants on the floor. Y/N did as he said, spreading her legs wide, she even reached out to touch her pussy.

Jungkook slightly caressed the tip of his cock in front of her pussy, his lips curled up into a smile.

"Look, your rosy face is so cute."

A strong thrust inside made her startled, the speed was very slow but strong, making her lips move continuously. The sweet honey-like moans poured into his ears, his hips still moving faster and faster. Jungkook reached out to knead her breasts, moaning into her ear.

"Y/N, call my name."

She arched her body, feeling each strong thrust of his was making her body excited. She didn't hesitate, raising her voice to beg.

"Jungkook.. Let me cum, please..."

"My baby is losing patience? Just a little more, okay?"

He kept moving, his lips caressing her neck then up to her chin and pressed against her lips, giving her a passionate kiss.

Y/N felt like she was about to collapse, still begging him.

"Jungkook... I can't take it anymore..."

"Baby, I'll come with you."

Both she and Jungkook climaxed, their juices soaking the bedsheets, sticking to their thighs. The scent of "love" filled his private jet.

"Jungkook..."

She gasped as she lay in his arms, her head nestled in the crook of his neck.

"It feels so good to hug you. After work tomorrow, come home with me, okay?"

"I know. I love you."

Jungkook gently stroked her hair.

"I love you too."

#bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #bts imagines #jungkook #jjk smut #Spotify

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aethelwyneleigh27 · 1 year ago

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Cod Characters General Dating Headcanons (part one)

+ Random and Some bits of Chubby Fem S/O Headcanons with mentions of different nationality S/O

+ What type of BF/GF they would be

Including John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Fem terms and pronouns like she/her are used for the reader

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

My rules for requests and characters I can write for

Please comment if you want to be added to the taglist, the next part or cod content alone.

Taglist: @marshmallowinamess

A/n: Hi lovelies! Lia here, I'm back after a nerve-wracking week of school. This is a bit short but I hope you enjoy it otherwise. God I fucking hate school. I wrote all of this in a cold room, a heat pad on me (because period cramps) and at 3am so any mistakes will be edited out as soon as I'm aware of it.

This is divided into a multiple part thing (I think 2-3?) because God knows I can't fit them all in one post because of the limited amount of gifs and photos. I'll add more to these in the future, some are longer than others because I can't think. Also because I can't write them all at once, that's a lot to write okay 😭

Disclaimers/warnings: Typical Cod things, OOC characters???, Unrealistic, Some suggestive themes and language, I'm so sorry but English is not my first language so please don't come after me. Most of the content I've seen are on TikTok and Tumblr I don't actually play the game but I love the characters so much, same with any other content I have for other video games.

Tiny sidenote: the reader in this has been describe to be shorter than the characters and has been mentioned to have a soft body rather than the muscular type.

John Price

ꕥ (OH MY GOD LOOK AT HIS SMILEEE) (He's such a quokka)

ꕥ Price who literally is such a father figure, doesn't matter whether the relationship between you two is romantic or platonic. He often takes the dominant caring role.

ꕥ Doesn't smoke around you, doesn't matter if you insist he doesn't. He still won't and definitely will criticize you if you try or do smoke because he doesn't want you do end up like him.

ꕥ If there's a bit of an age gap between you, I'd say he's hesitant. Definitely afraid of what the rest of the task force thinks (He can't help it, they're basically his boys)

ꕥ John Price who wants to settle down with you, maybe have kids if you want but just a white picket fence life with you without the chaos that is war and his job.

ꕥ He only ever let's you have his hat, only when he gives it to you though. Most of the time it would be while you're out, he'd put it on your head from his. (Cowboy hat rule? I heard that in more respectful terms rather than sexual, it respectfully means that you are theirs)

ꕥ John Price who rests his chin at the top of your head no matter how much he needs to crouch down whenever hugging you from behind. Love doing it whenever you're busy doing something too. (Props for the effort because you cannot tell me he doesn't have back, neck and knee pains)

ꕥ Is constantly worried if you share the same line of work, like at first it was nothing but a tiny crush and slowly he finds himself caring about your well-being more and more over time.

ꕥ Can't help but think he's an acts of service type of guy, reaching up for things you need or better yet lifting you up so you can reach them and loves opening things for you like bottles or anything canned. (Girlies who get their nails done or wear press ons know this struggle ( I'm a press on girly)

ꕥ The kind of man who would turn on some oldies music and slow dance with you in the living room, your footsteps and breathing being the only other sounds as you smile at each other, foreheads against the other's.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

ꕥ Ghost who is such Doberman/Black cat boyfriend. Like have you seen this man? He's so tall and intimidating, one distasteful look from him and if it was physically possible that person would drop dead.

ꕥ Ghost whose a chubby chaser through and through, he just looks for something different from what he's used to.

ꕥ Is definitely a tits kinda guy, doesn't matter how big or how small they are. He'll definitely play with them in some way during doing the you know what.

ꕥ Feels like you can take him and his size better because of your plush body. Has a size kink and likes seeing it bulge a bit when he's inside you.

ꕥ You're just so soft and warm, he wants something away from what he usually feels doing his job. Not really that touchy but he gets quite clingy within closed doors.

ꕥ Likes to squeeze your thighs, his grip on them would not falter. Doesn't matter whether it's in a sexual or domestic way.

ꕥ Thinks you deserve better than what he can offer and needs constant reassurance, never says it out loud but you pick up on what he feels. (please be patient with him)

ꕥ More often than not, he thinks you're quite fragile. Even if you can protect yourself, one of his ways of showing you he loves you is through protecting you. Hence the Doberman boyfriend scenario.

ꕥ Doesn't like PDA but knows when it's necessary, him placing his arm around your shoulder is enough to keep perverts in their places. If that rando is really that bold then they'll most likely end up with a few broken bones depending on how pissed Simon is.

ꕥ If you work alongside him, he'd constantly worry about your well-being but at the same time is conflicted because he's confident that he can protect you.

ꕥ Only you and the TF141 can call him Simon, he still feels uneasy when he gets called that but when it's you saying it, it doesn't sound as daunting to him. Still dislikes in in certain tones of voice because his name reminds him of his past.

ꕥ You've seen his face, it took a long time but after that he trusted you enough to show him. The fact that you didn't find his face revolting and even kissed his scars while cupping his face was enough for him to want to marry you.

ꕥ Isn't fully insecure about his face but has his moments. (You know like the voice line where soap asks him to take off his mask and asked him if he was ugly and Ghost said "Negative")

ꕥ Takes a little while to get him to open up and little things like letting you hold him takes him a bit of time to get used to because it makes him feel vulnerable.

ꕥ God forbid something were to happen to you and he couldn't do anything to stop it, Simon would lose his fucking mind.

John "Soap" MacTavish

ꕥ Soap is a Golden Retriever boyfriend through and through. He's energetic, loyal and really affectionate.

ꕥ He's a lighthearted flirt at first because he doesn't wanna scare you off but damn does he gradually get bolder over time.

ꕥ Very hands on, touchy, and could be clingy at times unless you don't consent him, secretly always finding new ways to touch you.

ꕥ A sucker for cheek kisses, lips are his favorite but he can't help but break out a wide grin whenever you kiss his cheek. Can't help but feel kinda manly whenever you do.

ꕥ Adores making you laugh, no matter how stupid your sense of humor is he will absolutely say that joke if it gets a laugh out of you. Would be concerned if you had a dark sense of humor but will eventually get used to it. To describe it, hearing you laugh makes his heart feel full like in a content domestic way.

ꕥ Also, see the gif? You cannot tell me that he doesn't look at you that way because he absolutely would.

ꕥ Loves your weight against his body to the pint he's begging you to lay on him. You, him in the bed while he's shirtless with grey sweatpants on and you in your night clothes sharing each other's warmth with your head on his broad chest.

ꕥ Shows you silly and cute pet videos, especially the cat ones:

"[Name], look at this one!"

"Soap, we're not adopting a pet. Not right now at least"

ꕥ He was upset and gave you puppy eyes the whole time because the only time he had pet was when he was child, it was a hamster which was killed because it got sucked into the vacuum by his older sister.

ꕥ You're the only one allowed to tough his hair, he's very proud of his mohawk and will let you style it. Won't wear it out if you did something silly to it though.

ꕥ Soap who loves showing you off to everyone, loves light PDA but doesn't wanna potential put a target on your back.

ꕥ He definitely is the guy you want to take home to your family and friends (or found family <3), he's funny and easy to get along with. Very flirty with you but he'll straighten out because he's terrified on making a bad impression.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

ꕥ (HE'S SO FREAKING UNDERRATED WITHIN THIS FANDOM)

ꕥ He gives Labrador boyfriend vibes, you can't help but want to take care of him.

ꕥ Gaz who literally had to do a double take when he first saw you, he turned to Soap with that "Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" look in a good way.

ꕥ Gaz who literally had to ask you out multiple times before you said yes thinking he's only doing it for a bet or a cruel joke.

ꕥ Constant reassurance from him because he doesn't want you to feel insecure about your looks because to him you are literally an angel.

ꕥ Loves to chill with you, cuddling and just relaxing. Maybe scrolling on TikTok occasionally and show you the funny ones he chuckled at.

ꕥ He has a sixth sense whenever you crave something, say you want chocolate or drink of some sort then he'd definitely being home whatever it is you we're craving without having to ask you.

ꕥ Kyle who has your Starbucks order memorized because he likes being the one to order things for you. Will playfully argue with you on who'll pay this time. (Don't even try anymore, he always wins anyway)

ꕥ Puts his hat on your head mostly when you're out, has done it the first time because it was hot out and the sun was in your eyes. He's picked it up from Price and once you smiled at him through the shade of his cap, he has not stopped doing it.

ꕥ Definitely a words of affirmation and acts of service kind of guy when it comes to love languages. Sometimes whenever he'd give you two thumbs up and a cheeky smile, you can't help but laugh a little.

ꕥ He's very thoughtful, so much so that he prides himself in knowing you better than anyone. Everytime you two go out to eat, when he gets something and know that you'll want to taste it (he knows damn well whether you'll like it or not when he tastes it) he'll bring it upon himself to order you one before you even say you want some.

ꕥ Soft snores when he sleeps, it's cute but you know damn well he's tired. Also I think he's very cuddly, like he just likes reminding himself that he's not alone and that his bed is warm because you're in it. Therefore at minimum always has an arm around you in bed.

ꕥ Dances in the rain with you and loves it when you pull him gently on his arm while your hands are intertwined. Takes note of how the the raindrops sometimes fall on your lashes while you look up at him smiling.

ꕥ Kyle Garrick who wants nothing more in the world to see you happy and smiling. His "this is the woman I'm going to marry" moment was when you baked his favorite cake for his birthday despite it being so hard, you nailed it perfectly. (Whether it's out of luck or skill is up to you)

Alejandro Vargas

ꕥ (idk how to write for this angry Mexican man but I'll try my best, love him and his megamind hairline though <3)

ꕥ Alejandro is definitely a flirt, a very bold on at that. He's quite forward when it comes to liking someone so yeah.

ꕥ He lives for it when you boss him around. That being said, he isn't picky about body type or any of the sort.

ꕥ Will teach you Spanish if you don't know any, definitely prioritizes the curse words and laughs whenever you jokingly call him pendejo.

ꕥ Wouldn't mind you teaching him your own culture and mother tongue. Bonus points if it's similar to his.

ꕥ Has Spanish nicknames for you because I imagine his own culture is important to him.

ꕥ Would hate it if you had the same line of work but will never take it out on you, it's just that it's so dangerous given the people he's involved with. (It's definitely Valeria)

ꕥ Speaking of El Sinombre, I don't think they had anything romantic going on. It's mainly platonic and the "betrayal" sucked on Alejandro's side. They definitely had some rivalry and the tension was through the roof. (Mainly because I headcanon Valeria as Lesbian)

ꕥ Can be so romantic when he tries, you can't tell me this mf ain't a smooth talker because he definitely is. Can be very blunt like in a forward way with his affection too.

ꕥ Likes kissing your wrist and feeling your pulse against his lips because it reminds him you're alive. (The amount of angst this scenario carries would be something I'm up for to write)

ꕥ Is sent on a fit of rage when something happens to you, say you got kidnapped then this man would tears off the walls of every building if he had to.

Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

ꕥ (ANOTHER UNDERATED CHARACTER)

ꕥ Another Golden Retriever boyfriend. This man is just loving and dotting, very husband material.

ꕥ Loves chubby women, has a soft spot for them and just likes holding them.

ꕥ He's definitely used to the insecurity that comes with the body, also doesn't get why such beauty standards are even in place. Has and would fuck the insecure out of you again if he had to. (It's in a very gentle and loving manner)

ꕥ If you hold him in your arms, he'd be absolutely living for it. He already has had a long day and being honest he hasn't had many lovers that went far so having you care in this way about him would have him wrapped around your finger.

ꕥ Worships the ground you walk on. That's it.

ꕥ Would take everything to heart whenever you teach him or mention something within your culture if you aren't of Spanish origins like he is. He just loves you so much that it makes him happy knowing more about you.

ꕥ Would adore slow dancing with you, brings him back to reality where he realizes that he has you and that you're there.

ꕥ Terrified that one day you'll end up leaving him so reassurance would be much appreciated by him.

ꕥ Definitely a sucker for receiving forehead kisses, as for giving he likes to kiss the back of your hand.

ꕥ If ever danger presents itself to you too closely, he would have a heart attack like full on crying but not in public though.

#cod x reader #task force 141 x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #price x reader #los vaqueros x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #rudy parra x reader #cod headcanons #cod x female reader #Aethelwyne Lia writes

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99woez · 4 months ago

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FEEL THE BASS THROUGH THE BATHROOM WALLS : PARK WONBIN.

warnings: smut + mentions of this being a toxic relationship. wc: 1.3k

The bathroom is dirty.

Wonbin drops to his knees quickly, staring up at you with those big brown eyes. His hands hesitantly lift to touch your thighs, but you swat them away, smirking down at him before running a hand through his long black hair. The roots are sweaty, most likely from the crowd of the concert raging inside the crowded venue you drug him to. Wonbin did whatever you wanted, did whatever you said, lived to please you, and you ate every second of it up. You dragged that boy around like a dog. So much so that your friends even began to comment on it.

“You should be nicer to him.”

“He’s really sweet…Maybe go easy on him?”

“It wouldn’t hurt to show him you actually like him.”

You did like Wonbin. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have kept him around for as long as you have. You smile down at him fondly, watching his eyes sparkle as they look up at you. You run your thumb over his plump bottom lip, dragging it down to see the pink flesh inside before letting it bounce back into place with a hum.

“So pretty, baby. Were you having fun?” You coo at him, watching his head nod as his hands rise again to touch you. This time, you let him, feeling his palms rest against the the smooth skin of your thighs. His fingers press and knead into the soft skin, watching how your skin dips at the weight of his fingertips in wonder. He always looks in awe of you like you’re some angel that crashed into his life and enlightened him on how he should be living life.

Wonbin was a loser before he met you. He’s still kind of a loser, but at least he dresses better now.

You reach down to pull your skirt and underwear down your legs, exposing yourself under the dismal flicker of cheap fluorescent lighting. "Can you do something for me, Binnie?" Your words come out smooth as velvet, starkly contrasting your grimy surroundings. His gaze meets yours, ardent and unblinking, the slightest hint of uncertainty clouding his doe eyes.

The air in that dirty bathroom feels cloudy and tough to inhale. The smell of cheap beer and sweat clinging heavy in the air. It’s disgusting. It’s perfect.

You watch the nervous tick in his jaw, the way his eyes flicker back to the door every now and then, as though expecting it to burst open. But despite his fear, he stays. He stays for you. "Go on," you urge, a soft smirk playing on your lips, your hand guiding his head between your legs where you need him most.

You almost gasp at the first contact—almost—but you swallow it down. You're not here to give him power; you're here to take it from him. His movements are hesitant at first, unpracticed and unsure, but there's an eagerness there too—an eagerness to please—that stokes your ego more than anything. Wonbin has only belonged to you. You took his virginity a week after you two started dating. You rode him in the back of his car after he took you to see a movie he was excited about. It had something to do with space and aliens. You don’t remember the name of it, but you remember the pathetic sounds Wonbin made as you bounced on his cock so hard the car shook.

You like that memory. It always makes you smile.

You run your fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands with a soft moan when his nose bumps your clit. "Don't stop," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the screeching of guitars from outside. But he hears you—he always hears you—and picks up his pace obediently.

His hands tighten around your thighs—their trembling long since forgotten—and there's a newfound confidence in his movements. It's almost enough to make you proud. Almost.

A sharp intake of breath escapes your lips as Wonbin's tongue swirls around your clit, his hands tightening their grip on your thighs. You grin down at him and spread your legs wider, arching your back. His tongue darts out again, lapping at your folds, and you let out a low moan as you tighten your hold on his long hair. Your breath hitches when his fingers find their way inside of you, teasing you, massaging your soft walls by curling the tips of them up. You taught him that. Everything he knows is because of you. That fact alone makes you smile down at him, biting your bottom lip as you watch him desperately work to please you.

You know he's inexperienced, but you also know he's eager to learn and please you. His hand clenches and unclenches on your thighs as he tries to find the right rhythm, his head bobbing up and down between your legs with growing confidence. The wet, sloppy sound of his tongue against your folds blends in with the bass of the music coming from outside. His hair is a mess around his face, dark lashes sweeping against his cheeks as he focuses on pleasuring you.

The smell of beer and sweat in the air intensifies as you hold onto the sink, your fingers gripping the marble tightly. It would be a lie to say that you're not enjoying this. The way he submits to you, the way he looks up at you with those big brown eyes full of adoration and desire, the way his tongue explores your cunt like he's found the Holy Grail.

“Good boy…Such a good boy,” You coo as he moans softly against your core, pressing himself further between your legs. Your thighs cage his head in, locking in on the sides. You feel his nails dig into your thighs with another moan at the mild suffocation, watching as his eyes flick up to look at you pathetically. You hear him whine against you between the wet noises his mouth makes as he sucks and licks at your clit, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge.

You take deep yet shaky breaths the closer he brings you to the edge, the pleasure tingling throughout your body slowly but surely. Your head falls back against the mirror behind you, adding to the smudges already littering it. “That’s it,” you whisper, threading your fingers through his sweat-dammed black hair and holding it tightly. You feel the pleasure creep up your spine the harder he sucks at your clit, hearing the most obscene of noises leave his mouth as he desperately works you toward your orgasm. In times like this, it felt like all he lived for was pleasing you, probably because that is all Wonbin lived for now.

He has no friends. He doesn’t talk to his family anymore. When he’s at work, he’s texting you. You consume his every waking thought exactly like you wanted. You not only consume his thoughts but his entire life. You’re his whole life just like you planned.

You tumble over the edge when he moans against you again, sending vibrations through your sensitive body. You moan out his name when you cum, your chest rising and falling with every labored breath you took. The short but intense ripples of pleasure rolling through you make your head spin. It’s numbing but electrifying. You can’t help but smile dumbly at the feeling, looking down at the boy still nestled between your legs, looking up at you with big, expectant eyes, waiting for your next instruction like he always did.

“Come here, baby,” You sigh, releasing your thighs from his head, letting him lift his head with a gasp of air before he scrambles to crash his lips to yours. He always loved to kiss you, chasing your lips the second you pulled away. You’re like a drug to him. His hands take your face into them, moaning quietly into your mouth as your hands jolt up to hold onto his biceps, digging your nails into the flesh.

#99woez #riize smut #riize hard hours #park wonbin smut #riize imagines #riize scenarios #riize x reader

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saturnicos · 11 months ago

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Hi! Can you make a Hazbin Hotel Headcanons of how the characters would comfort a reader who is having a panic attack.

Yeah! Ironically, I had a pre-episode panic attack during a class today, writing this helped me avoid a meltdown.

Of course, if you wanted into a different perspective (or other characters, since I don't write many at once), feel free to tell me :)

HH cast comforting !reader having a panic attack

With: Charlie, Alastor, Lucifer, Adam, Angel Dust

Context: Panic attack can happen any time, without any motivation. Unfortunately, that's hits you more often than you would like. In a middle of a conversation with them, you start to feel anxious and afraid, eyes widening and an immense desire to cry appearing. How would them comfort you?

. Charlie

— Oh! And I created a new plan that I would lik.. — Charlie interrupts herself as soon as she sees his eyes roaming the room, your leg shaking while the sound of your heartbeat was heard loud enough.

She knows that happens with some frequency and often is ready when happen. Actually, she's a bit imperative and has its moments of generalized anxiety; although it's not the same thing, it has a basis of what she can or cannot do to help you.

— Honey, look at me, please — She ask to you, holding your hand and looking at your eyes with a serious expression in her face. — It's ok, you'll be fine, you're safe with me. Now, breathe in and out with me.

She starts as an example, taking a deep breath through her nose and releasing the air through her mouth. Despite your mind clouded with fear and derealization, your eyes locked onto hers, unconsciously repeating what exercise she replicates, feeling your breathing regularize slowly, despite the tremor and fear continuing.

She smile at you, holding your hand with a little more strength and delicacy. She moves forward with her free arm at her side, asking for permission for a hug. You, without hesitation, allow it, approaching her and hugging her tightly, feeling her face resting above your head, allowing you to cry into her coat if you felt like you needed to.

— Don't forget to breath, it'll calm yourself. I'm here for you.

. Lucifer

He knows what gonna happen even before you. This man faces various emotional and psychological problems daily, he recognizes very well when someone seems to have a tendency to have a crisis. Especially coming from you.

The first thing he notices is your hand starting to shake and your eyes threatening to water. He's quick to cup your face with both hands, making sure you're looking and listening to him.

— Sweetie, hear me. — He asks in a gently voice, making sure not to get too close to you for fear that this would only trigger a sudden worsening of the attack. — Calm down, I'm with you, there's anything here that can hurt you.

Even with his supportive phrases, your tremor only got worse as your blood pressure only tended to drop, slowly obscuring your vision and slowing down your breathing.

— Here — His voice echoed in your mind, as if partially clearing the intrusive and distressing thoughts. An angelic voice. — Can you tell me five things in this room, please?

You didn't know from where this come, but tried to see something even with a bad vision. And you did it. Then he asked for four things that you could touch. After three that you could hear, after...

When you came to, out of the derealization, you noticed the tactic that he used to calm you down: 5-4-3-2-1, a way to distract the mind of fear to understand what was around you, consequently making you come to your senses when you noticed the space.

He also noticed as your breathing returned to normal and your body gradually shook less and less, smiling at you tenderly.

. Adam

He's a bitch. A fucking bitch.

At first, when he sees your eyes watering in the middle of the conversation he will think that some comment or joke of his got to you, and sincerely? He'd probably find it funny that you're bothered by this at this point.

— What's up, bitch? That wasn't even that aggressive — He responded in a mocking voice, leaning across the table toward you. His tone of voice was filled with a visible desire to laugh.

However, when he noticed that you ignored his comment and were shaking unnaturally, the expression on his mask changed to one that alternated between doubt and amazement.

The mask's mouth constantly opened and closed, as if he were interrupting whenever he thought about commenting on something.

— Fuck — He sighed heavily as he let out an audible curse, getting up from his seat and heading towards him, but stopped next to you when he noticed that he was a piece of shit with emotional comfort, especially with words of affirmation.

With an expression of uncertain, he took off his terminator mask and threw it on the table, looking at the office door, confirming that there was no one there that could burst into the room.

He then crouched down next to you, watching you cover your face with hands shaking, stifling a sob. Not really sure what do, he brought his hand to your back, patting it friendly as a strange way of showing support, since 1. he didn't know how to verbalize it and 2. he couldn't do it. But deep down he would like to try and provide some kind of support.

— I have no fucking idea how to help you, but... You know, if you need a shoulder, you've got me.

. Angel Dust

He knows what it's like to have an emotional breakdown and derealization, after all, it is something that constantly impacts him almost always after the work.

Despite the solution he always seeks for himself be the use of medication and perhaps a little alcohol, he would never make that an option for you since he doesn't want to inflict drug use on you. Health reason.

— Baby, is a hug okay? — he asks you in a compassionate tone, bowing his head slightly to the side as he raised his left hand to rest it on your shoulder.

When you nod, he wraps you in a hug with all four of his arms. A comfortable but not strong hug, allowing you to leave if you wish.

— You need to stabilize your heart rate, you know? Do what I do — He then took a deep breath for a few seconds and then let it out, repeating the process two more times before encouraging you to try.

You snuggled into your spot on the couch trying to control the shaking and tears as you repeated breathing exercise with difficulty. At first it was painful and burned your lungs, but Angel advised you to try again as soon as you felt like you could try.

— I don't have work today, how about a movie? I promise it won't be any of my big movies, your choice. — He laughed quietly, trying to lighten the sad mood with a light dirty joke as he picked up the controller. When he could hear a low chuckle from you, his smile grew.

. Alastor

He literally has no idea what happened to you. Alastor died before psychology studies were taken seriously, and particularly he was never someone very social or interpersonal, then see you having a mental imbalance suddenly was ridiculously weird.

He just stood there looking at you with that stupid smile on his face, trying to find some logic behind your attitude so that he could do something about it.

After a given moment thinking, in a snap of his fingers he manifested a tea set in the center table in the room. However, the withering smell of coffee took its place when he took one of the cups for himself and offered another one for you - one that smelled like valerian, a plant that helped with irregular heartbeat.

He looked at you as he sipped his own cup of black coffee with legs crossed, as if waiting for you to go ahead and drink the tea.

You then gave in and drank, pouring a few drops into your lap due to tremor. The tea actually wasn't that bad. As soon as he passed by your throat, the effect seemed to have already begun, gradually relaxing your muscles and calming your fear.

Along with the feeling of relaxation, an aroma of oils penetrated the room, making a combination in the air of more diverse aromas and smells in a pleasant mix.

By your side, Alastor beamed a satisfied smile as he helped himself to more coffee, talking to you again, occasionally asking if you wanted more tea or if you felt okay.

I love sm write comfort, but thinking about the angst before is painfully sad//

Thank you for read, have a good day or a good night :)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer x reader #adam x reader #charlie x reader #angel dust x reader #alastor x reader

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marvelouslizzie · 2 years ago

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just let me make you feel better

summary: after a long day of work, you finally come back home and rest. your period is making your day miserable but your boyfriend is here to help you.

pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: 18+ NSFW MINORS DNI, period comfort, established relationship, pet names, mentions of menstruation pain, a little bit of period stigma, comfort offering, sexual activity during the period, nipple play, clit play, fingering, after care, obviously blood, unrealistic portrayal of male partners, no mention of y/n.

a/n: I just wanted to write a Bucky Barnes offers to comfort you during your period story so here we are. Unfortunately, this kind of care is really rare so I’m sorry for fucking up your expectations about men. Most of them don’t even do the bare minimum. This concept would shock them but don’t settle for anything less.

Thank you @notafunkiller and @es1dit for beta-reading and helping me better this story. Love you both!

All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission.

Every like, comment, and reblog is highly appreciated. Don’t hesitate to message me or send me a question regarding the stories I write. I would love to talk about it and no, it would never bother me.

Read more tag starts after the first paragraph of the story.

God, you can’t wait for this day to be over. It’s not the worst day of your life, you know it, but still, the freaking pain just doesn’t want to go away. At least, not completely. It finds different ways to crawl back to you and keep you suffering.

You tried a lot of stuff, starting with good old painkillers. There’s no denying that the pill is helping you, but it’s just not good enough. Your back is hurting, joints are feeling sore and there’s still a headache on the back of your head that no matter how many painkillers you take, keeps lingering and torturing you. Like bleeding isn’t enough.

Yeah, being on your period and working at the same time is no fun. It’s not even bearable. Still, you make it through the day and come back just to drop on the couch. You really want to get rid of these clothes, take a hot shower and change into something comfortable, but you just don’t have the energy. Mentally, you are already doing all this stuff, imagining how good it would feel to stand under the hot water and just let it relax your muscles. Yet your legs don't want to move. You just lay on the couch like a bag of potatoes.

As you drift between sleep and being awake, you hear the keys jingling, signaling that your boyfriend is home. Is it weird that you can already smell him while he’s standing across the room? You have no idea but you can. It just feels like something… familiar. You have no idea how it works, but it makes you feel safe even though he did nothing but step into the apartment.

“Darling?” Bucky calls out because he isn’t used to not being greeted by you when he comes home. Usually, you are either going toward him or yelling “Welcome home, baby” from wherever you are.

You can’t find the strength to call out so you groan a little while raising your hand. God, his expression changes so quickly. He walks towards you at a trot.

“Are you alright?”

“I am.” You are just exhausted, nothing out of the ordinary. Especially not at this time of the month.

“Are you sure? You don’t look alright.”

“It’s that time of the month again.” The worried expression on his face slowly fades away when he notices you are actually alright. It makes you wonder what he thought happened to you, but you don't ask him.

“Oh, darling…” His voice is so caring. Your period completely saps you of your energy and he knows it. He knows how you suffer or what you do to make yourself feel better. “Did you take a painkiller?”

“Yes.” Of course, you did. That was the first thing you thought of.

“When?”

You stop for a second to think. “In the morning and after lunch.”

“So you can take another one now, right?”

That’s a good question. You can take another pill, but your stomach is already protesting at that thought. You should eat something before taking it, but you don’t feel like cooking. Even the thought is exhausting.

“But first you will need food.” God, is he reading your mind or what?

“I don’t feel like–” Before you can finish your sentence, he’s already standing up and making his way to the kitchen.

“I will prepare something for you.” When your words register, he turns around and looks at you. “You don’t wanna eat anything?”

“No, no. I was going to say I don’t feel like preparing anything.”

“Oh, that’s fine.” He turns around. “Don’t worry. I will make your favorite.”

You have yet to learn what he means by that because you have many favorites. A meal, sandwich, snack, or dessert? You find out what he means when he comes back with your favorite sandwich, a glass of water, and the painkiller you use only during your period. You love him for paying enough attention to notice that.

“Eat while I draw a bath for you. Warm water should help.”

Why didn’t you think about filling the tub and just sitting there? The thought of laying there for a while sounds so much more appealing than a quick shower. It doesn’t take long for you to finish the whole sandwich and take the pill. Your stomach isn’t protesting anymore, and neither are your taste buds. Still, the pain and that discomfort are there, lingering and making you regret being born. Men don’t have to suffer like this and it’s so unfair! You hate mankind for that privilege. While you are lost in your thoughts, Bucky comes out of the bathroom and you notice: No, you don’t hate the whole of mankind. There’s one exception. You can’t hate Bucky when he’s the most thoughtful person you've ever met.

“The bathtub is ready for you. Did you finish your sandwich?” He kind of sounds like a teacher or a parent, checking if you did everything you were supposed to.

“Yep, all done.” You gesture to the plate. “Took the painkiller, too.”

“Good job, doll.” He comes closer without taking his eyes off of you. “Wanna head to the bathroom now?”

“Yes, but I need to take some clothes with me first.”

“Don’t worry, I will take care of it. Just get in there and relax, okay?”

You just nod with a small smile on your lips. When he takes care of you like this, you feel so lucky and so seen. You never asked him to do any of this stuff for you. Occasionally, you just said “I don’t feel like cooking” thinking you would order take out or you asked for a painkiller, but he registered all that information and started to do things without you asking. Seeing how he paid attention and cared about you just makes you feel valued.

You have no idea how long you have been laying in the bathtub. It was nearly perfect with the bubbles and the scent. You expected him to show up and tell you what to do next, but that did not happen. After a while, you decide to properly clean yourself and drain the bathtub. That’s when you notice he put your towels to warm on the radiator, which instantly makes you smile. You wrap your hair with one and dry your body with the other. Thinking you might bleed around, you quickly leave the bedroom to find your clothes.

While you are thinking if you should go for a pad or a tampon, you find your missing boyfriend in your bedroom. Your clothes are already chosen and set aside, your favorite pajamas waiting for you.

“Hey. How are you feeling?”

“A little better. The painkiller started to work its magic.” You walk towards your clothes to put them on as quickly as possible, still thinking about the blood.

Bucky quickly gets in your way. “No need to rush.”

“No, no, I really need to rush.” He gives you a look that makes you think he's confused. “I don’t have a tampon on. I will bleed on the floor.”

“And?” His tone is so carefree, it confuses you.

“And we will have to clean it, Bucky.” You state the obvious.

“Then we will clean it.” He makes things sound so natural, so casual. Like it’s the most normal thing on earth, but you are conditioned to think that you shouldn’t bleed around, that you should take care of any mess you make.

“You don’t wanna see that.”

“Maybe I do.” His answer comes instantly, surprising you.

“Believe me, you don’t.” You make a move in the direction of your clothes, but Bucky doesn’t let you.

“Bucky!”

“Darling, I have been fighting for god knows how long. Do you think your period blood would disturb me?” His question sounds so genuine, you stop to think for a second. He has a point, but not really. It's a different kind of blood.

“I mean it’s not the same, is it?”

“Yeah, it’s not.” The confirmation you expect finally comes. “I’m used to seeing blood caused by violence, not by nature.”

Wait, what?

You don’t know how to react to this. Of course, it is natural, but it is also torture and it makes a mess every time. A huge mess. Usually, your exes were disturbed by the idea, keeping a respectful distance while you were on your period, but apparently not Bucky. His fingers were already grazing your skin carefully. He looks into your eyes, asking for permission silently.

“I really don’t feel like it, Bucky.” You hate saying no to him, but the pain is still there. You are sure it will make things uncomfortable.

“I’m just asking for permission to touch you, doll. I’m not asking for anything else.” He keeps confusing you tonight.

“What do you mean?”

“Just let me make you feel better.” His answer is simple, but not enough for you to understand his meaning. What does he mean by that?

“I think having you there now isn’t a great idea, Buck. I’m in pain and a little bit too sensitive.” You try to explain as simply as possible.

“Darling… There are other ways to make you feel better, or did you forget about those? Maybe I should remind you, huh?” Gosh, the smug smile creeping up his lips… It sends shivers down your spine. “Just lay down.” He gestures to the bed.

“I will blee–”

“Shh…” He doesn’t let you finish. “Just be a good girl and stop thinking too much.”

For fuck's sake… A good girl? He definitely knows how to shut your brain up. You slowly sit down on the bed and notice a big towel under you. He already thought about everything, so you won’t have to worry. So you can just enjoy this. If that’s what he wants, you can do that. You can shut your mind for a short while and try to enjoy yourself.

As he lies down next to you, he turns his entire body in your direction and props himself up on his elbow. His flesh fingers start to caress your skin very lightly, making their way to the towel you wrapped around your body.

“It is time to…” His fingers work quickly to undo the towel. “...take this off.”

He sounds somehow impatient. Maybe just to see you naked or hear the sounds you make while he touches you all the ways he knows you love. His fingers move to your nipple, fingertips grazing over carefully. As he touches you so lightly, another wave of goosebumps washes over you. It's not normal for you to be this sensitive, but your nipples are already hard. Your lips tremble as he moves closer and gives one a long lick.

“God, damn it.” You mutter and he instantly looks up.

“Should I stop?” The way he asks the question shows how concerned and focused he is.

“No, no.” You take a deep breath. “Just be gentle. I’m just…”

“Sensitive, I know.” He smiles and dives back in. His tongue swirls around your nipple over and over again until you start to cry out.

“Fuck!” That’s so unexpected. The pleasure you are feeling is foreign. Nipple play never felt like this before. “It feels so– so good.”

He moves his mouth away with a wet pop just to say: “Yes, surrender yourself to the feeling, darling.” Then he goes back to sucking your nipple, while his metal hand is massaging your other breast. It’s such an amazing change after feeling pain for hours and you can’t help but crave more. Your hips are rising unintentionally. Bucky’s flesh hand moves down to your body, sliding between your folds really carefully, but it makes you push your hips up again.

You've never felt this wet in your life. You are sure your period has a lot to do with it, but god… That’s not the only reason. The way he’s paying attention to your breasts, the way his index finger is working between your folds… It feels like magic. His fingers start rubbing on your clit and the next thing you know you're moaning his name over and over again. Whenever you moan, his tongue becomes more relentless around your nipple. The pleasure hits you suddenly, it takes your breath away.

“Buck–” Your back arches like a bow. “Oh my go–”

He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even hesitate for a second. His fingers and tongue work you through your orgasm until you start to feel a little sensitive. You let a long breath out, proving how satisfied you feel.

Finally, he lets go of your nipple and looks up. Hair messed up, lips swollen and eyes glossy. “How are you feeling?”

“Great.” You breathe out again and it makes him smile widely. So fucking widely… “I feel great.” His hand rests on your pussy while his head is on your upper body. You lean down a little and he meets you in the middle in a messy kiss. God, his lips are the most delicious thing you've ever tasted. They're nearly sweet and just intoxicating.

You sigh loudly, feeling so much better than before. The pain is the last thing on your mind. You actually think about a possible second orgasm already and a little smile creeps up on your lips.

“What?” He asks wondering what you are thinking.

“I think I want a bit more.”

“Oh, you do?” He is fully smirking now. You just nod while biting one side of your lower lip. “Would it be okay if I put my fingers inside? Would that be comfortable for you?”

“I hope so. We can try and if it’s uncomfortable, I'll tell you.”

“What a good girl you are.”

Before you can say anything in return, his fingers move a little down and he pushes one of them inside.

“Bucky!” The sudden pleasure catches you off guard.

“Sorry, sorry. I will go slow.” He moves himself a little bit up, just to be able to kiss you comfortably. You look at him and excitement is written all over his face. He’s actually enjoying this even though he isn’t getting off himself, and you love how your pleasure affects him. Licking your lips, you close the little distance between you two.

He kisses you deeply while moving his finger in and out. He’s using just one, but dear god… you are so sensitive. It feels so good even though you aren’t completely filled. Slowly, he pushes the second finger inside, crooking them and rubbing them along a spot where you can see stars. Your mouth suddenly opens as you let out a loud moan. You are unable to kiss him back, it feels like your whole body just tensed up and your muscles stopped working.

“Yes! God, yes.” You manage to say while he keeps on working. “Just like that.”

“Don’t worry, doll.” He speeds up a little. “I won’t stop.”

He keeps working his fingers while kissing your neck. You can feel your second orgasm approaching and it feels so good, but also not enough.

“Please…” You beg without thinking. “Please…”

“Tell me what you want.” His voice sounds so deep, so full of desire.

“Faster. A little faster.” You take a deep breath. “I’m so– close.”

He doesn’t make you ask twice, just starting to move his fingers a little faster and that’s all it takes.

“Bucky!” You scream so loudly that it surprises even you, but it’s too late to bite your lip. The overwhelming pleasure takes over, making you scream so loudly that Bucky thinks all your neighbors know what you are up to. And he doesn’t care. They should know he is the one making you feel this good. He is the one who makes you forget about your pain and mindlessly moan his name like a prayer.

When you come down from your high, you feel boneless. It’s like your whole body relaxed after the blinding pleasure. Maybe it’s the mixture of the orgasms and the painkiller you took, but you are too tired to care.

While you stretch your arms, you notice Bucky isn’t next to you anymore. You look around to see where he went and he comes out of the bathroom with another towel in his hand.

“Looking for me?” God, his smile is so smug, but you can’t blame him. The way you just screamed his name without having his cock inside you… That must have boosted his ego. Rightfully so. His fingers are magical. And his tongue. Also his lips. The way he turns you on so much and pulls this pleasure out of you is unbelievable.

“Yes. Why did you leave me?” You know he didn’t but you like to play.

“Just got a wet towel for you.” He kneels in front of the bed, between your legs and you prop up on your elbows to see what he’s doing. He gently moves the towel on your thighs and wipes the blood he smeared while making you scream his name.

“I could clean myself. You didn’t have to.”

“I know you can, doll. Nobody said you can’t.” He rubs the towel against your slit and you jump a little, feeling sensitive. He notices your reaction and tries to do it more carefully. “I just want to help you.” After he’s done wiping, he folds the towel and puts it away. Immediately after, he grabs your clothes and helps you get dressed: your underwear first (and no, he did not forget about the pads), then your pajamas. In a couple of seconds, you're clean and all dressed up. “Now it’s time to rest.”

You move backward and get under the covers while watching him collect the towels all over the room and put them in the dirty laundry bin. It amazes you how he doesn’t forget about anything. He doesn’t let any small detail bother or worry you. You hear him washing his hands and he comes back with a smile on his face.

You don’t know how you got this lucky. Having a loving and caring boyfriend like him… Getting taken care of like this… You remember how your friends talk about their boyfriends and how they do absolutely nothing. You know that’s not how a relationship should be, but you also know how rare this is. Your eyes wander back to him while he is getting undressed, showing you how incredibly hard he is. Yet he didn’t even make a move to relieve himself. He didn’t ask for a hand or begged to be inside you like he does sometimes. He put you first and unfortunately that’s even rarer.

He quickly puts on his pajamas and slips right next to you in bed. His arms are already around your waist, pulling you closer. You carefully move your hand down and palm his still rock-hard erection.

“Nope.” His answer is simple yet firm.

“Let me take care of you, Bucky.” You try to say as sweetly as possible. You want to return the favor.

“Not tonight, darling.” He gently moves your hand away. “But I promise, you can do whatever you want to me when you feel better, alright?”

“Alright.” He’s right. You are feeling sleepy already, you can do this another time.

After all, you are his and he is yours. You have all the time in the world.

He pulls you even closer, putting his head on your shoulder behind your back.

“It’s time to sleep.”

“I love you Bucky.” You say while feeling the weight on your eyelids. It’s hard to keep them open.

“I love you too, darling.”

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kinichval · 1 month ago

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game's over, you exist now, to my doom.

level one.

"we'll get one breakfast clubhouse, two chicken fillets, one bacon croissant, one slice of chocolate cake, and four brewed coffee please." xilonen relays the group's order in which the waiter repeats for confirmation, exchanges of gratitude take place before all eyes shoot and fixate at you.

the presence of drowsiness still linger in your body, the slight rush of adrenaline from when you were dashing back and forth in your apartment while getting ready has already expired, now you're fighting for your life not to drop your head and doze off on the cloud nine-like chair.

"did studying for finals screw you up hard or were you playing minecraft the whole night?" lumine interrogates, her brow slightly raised, mualani and xilonen had a similar look plastered on their faces. their stares were heavy on your shoulder, a pressuring weight that wants to force an admission out of you.

"kind of, a couple of subjects are a pain in the ass to deal with." you reason out hoping that their girl instincts would allow this to slide, whatever happened last night was something you don't want to think about.

it's complicated — you convinced yourself it is when in truth; it shouldn't have been that deep. if anything, it was just measly school glue that binded the almost relationship you and kaito had. no commitment happened, just a confession, now empty promises, and a prayer that it'll be the greatest love story of all time.

finally taking the hints of your hesitation, mualani changes the subject to which lumine and xilonen politely listens to, laughing at the hilarious parts and sharing side comments in between.

this gives you an open door to shut out the world, a few seconds of breathing should be enough to get you back in shape even just for this moment, right? you didn't want them to worry about your mental being, moreover you didn't want to open up (and most likely breakdown) just yet.

you remain silent, defending your quiet behavior with the fact that you only have one mouth and it's occupied with eating that you'd rather not speak until you're done. this wasn't your typical self, but they collectively understood that pushing you to the edge will only ruin your composure.

still, they manage to make you feel included and in return, you respond and try your best to just be present.

time check, classes are about to start. after settling the bill and getting ready to face the wrath of uni; lumine and xilonen bid their goodbyes upon the realization that there's exactly five minutes before their afternoon classes. thankfully, there's still around thirty minutes to spare for you and mualani, so she stays beside you, a maternal expression of concern veils on her pretty face. "you alright?" she knows for sure you'll say yes, and you did.

mualani, known for her outgoing persona, stays still in this moment — like a calm beach shore. she has this aura that somehow feels like water washing over your toes and bringing in oddly but prettily shaped seashells along, so you take a deep breath.

"kaito—"

you were cut short when mualani tugs on your arm right after the door opens and the bell chimes as a new customer comes in. oh, maybe the grim reaper couldn't get his hands on you so he sends your ex-almost-boyfriend hand-in-hand with that girl to kill you the second time in less than twenty-four hours.

"let's get ice cream."

previous | home | level up

when yn's gaming hobby fluctuated after (stupidly) getting disappointed with a gamer she fell in love with, she's out there on valorant rage-gaming her heartbreak and ranting out to strangers who try to mock her d-level aiming skills; and kinich, who was just trying a newly released agent, got wired up in her incessant rambling and the unwanted responsibility to teach her how to play.

⚡︎ @animelover100 @fandomfan-102 @bvtterflyyy @viannasthings @mang0515 @aries-afk @xiaomainlmao @usagiarchive @marivaudages @lalalaloveallmydays @jiminscarmex @aetherialcrafter @yelleloww @rattyrattyratty (bold can not be tagged)

#kval — deathmatch.#invite code: tsunami #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact imagines #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin smau #genshin impact kinich #kinich #kinich x reader #kinich x you #kinich fanfics #kinich imagines #kinich smau

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juniperdugong · 3 months ago

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Make a Prince out of Him

Pairing: Jun x GN!reader Genre: Fluff CW: Very slightly suggestive (not even lol) WC: 394

Day 7 of To Halloween with Love Event

A/N: And when my Manhwa/Manhua obsession starts to show... what then?!

"Umm, love?" Jun's tone was very hesitant as it traveled from your shared bedroom to the living room where you sit impatiently waiting for your man to show off the costume that he let you pick out for him.

"Yes, Junnie!" You were practically bouncing off the wall with excitement. "Need help?"

"No no, I just... I don't know if this one is appropriate for the public, lovely..." He walks out and you're met with such a magical site, nearly drooling as your jaw drops. Jun comes out in a loose-fitting costume resembling traditional men's hanfu but revealing... so much more than it was supposed to be. "It shows my entire upper half... is it supposed to do that? Did we get sent a faulty costume?"

"Mmm... maybe?" And the look on your face does nothing to hide your true intentions. You bought the costume knowing that it would be a bit revealing, you and Jun had even looked over it together before you pressed "buy - But neither of you expected it to be this revealing, and maybe you didn't expect it to look this hot on your handsome boyfriend (what a silly assumption for you to make.)

"What should we do? I mean I can go out like this I gue-"

"NO!" You jump to cut him off, there's no way anyone but you is seeing him looking this good. The fan edits and fansite pictures would be gorgeous... But no! There were just some things that needed to be kept sacred! Sure his fans have seen his body but... not like this and special circumstances call for special measures.

"Junnie... Umm- let's just get you some fangs and some contacts and you go as a vampire this time? Hm?" He turns to you a bit confused but doesn't realize that he causes the robes to flow open as he faces you - Yeah, he's made for acting for sure with the way this scene is straight out of a drama...

"I went as that for Halloween last year though-"

"They won't mind! A different vampire look, maybe we can find something to make it a Jiangshi? A princely Jiangshi?" You're trying to think of anything to put to use the costume you have on deck while also being able to cover him up more, "they'll eat it up anyways... trust me..."

A/N: A Jiangshi is a Chinese hopping vampire for those who don't know! With everything going on in caratland rn I hope everyone's doing alright and that this maybe lifts your spirits a bit! Seriously... it's been going down for the past month WE CANT CATCH A BREAK!

Please Reblog and Comment if you enjoyed ! (They act as power-ups for me)

Taglist (OPEN): @bemybabiibish @bath1lda @porridgesblog

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hederasgarden · 4 months ago

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Ciao bella!! For your requests...

How's about #8 with Bodyguard Walter Marshall? You know I'm a sucker for those curls. 😘😘

I continue to suck at writing 100 word drabbles so here you go. Enjoy!

Pairing: Walter Marshall x F!Reader Word Count: 841 Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angsty, violence, whump and soft Walter. A/N: This is my first Walter fic and my first time writing for a Henry Cavill character so be kind! Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

The world seems to move in slow motion, every detail sharp and painful. A high-pitched drone rings in your ears while dust chokes your throat, making it difficult to breathe. When you touch your head, your hand comes away bloody and you blink in an attempt to clear your vision. Somewhere in the distance, you hear the wail of sirens. You try to make sense of it all but your mind struggles to hold onto any thought too long.

Glass crunches under your heels as you take a hesitant step forward. You wobble, pitching toward the ground until a pair of strong arms catch you. You look up and Walter's face comes into focus, his features sharp and concerned despite the surreal blur around you. His lips move under his thick beard, but it sounds like he’s speaking underwater.

You shake your head and he shifts closer. His warm, calloused hands cup your face and you wince when his thumb presses against the cut on your head. Behind him, you can see what remains of the hallway. There’s a single shoe in the middle of the floor and your stomach lurches, catching sight of a body.

"Hey. Look at me."

Walter grips your jaw almost painfully and your attention snaps back to him. Suddenly, everything comes rushing back. You were angry, arguing with him and another FBI agent about whether you should testify. They had security concerns but you were determined, it was your only chance to put away your boss —the corrupt DA in the pocket of the mob. That was right before the first bomb exploded.

"Oh god,” you whisper, horrified.

"It's okay, you're okay," he soothes, his voice calm and steady despite the chaos. "We're going to get out of this, but I need you to listen to me, can you do that?"

"Yes."

"That's good," Walter praises.

His hands drop to your shoulders and then down your arms, applying careful pressure as he goes. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know he’s checking for injuries but right now all you can focus on is how reassuring his touch feels. If he’s with you, you’re safe. He would never let anything bad happen to you. That thought alone is enough to pull you from the swirling panic that threatens to drown you.

"We need to check in on the rest of the team," you tell him. Walter's voice is gentle as he says your name, but you shake your head firmly, trying to push past the haze of confusion. ”No, we need to—"

"You're my priority," he interrupts. "I need to get you out. There's no case without you.”

"We can't leave them."

"I'm sorry,” Walter says softly as his thumb brushes away the tears that escape. ”They're gone,"

Your eyes dart behind him and you see the horrific reality you hadn’t fully registered before. Three bodies lay on the floor—your friends and colleagues. The realization feels like a lance through your chest, stealing your breath. You look back at Walter, tears falling silently.

A distant boom makes both of you flinch. The building shudders violently, sending plaster dust cascading from the ceiling.

"We need to go."

You nod and Walter wraps an arm around your waist to hold you close as he guides you over the debris. When you try to look back, he places a firm hand on the side of your face, his fingertips brushing against your temple.

"Don't look," he says, urging you to tuck your face into his chest.

Your fingers curl into the soft fabric of his sweater as your body moves on autopilot, guided by him, until you’re finally outside. From there, everything becomes a blur, moments merging into a disjointed sequence—the paramedics stitching you up, the uneasy ride in the back of a strange SUV, and now, this safe house.

You watch Walter pace the living room, his hand resting on his gun as he stops to peer out the curtains. His black curls are still dusted with white plaster. Every part of you feels grimy and tacky.

"I want to go home," you say, your voice barely more than a whisper, but it catches Walter’s attention. He lets the curtain fall back into place, blocking out the outside world. You wrap your arms around yourself and rock forward. "Please."

"You know that's not possible.” he reminds you not patiently. “We’re gonna be stuck here for a while."

The floor creaks beneath him as he moves to stand directly in front of you. He touches your shoulder and you look up at him through wet lashes.

"You should get cleaned up. There's some toiletries and clothes for you in the bathroom." When you don’t move he sighs, touching your chin. “Go on.”

It’s a testament to how exhausted and overwhelmed you are that you follow his gentle command without argument. At the door you pause, looking back at him with a silent question in your eyes.

“I’ll be here when you get out,” he promises.

Send me a request

#walter marshall x reader #walter marshall x you #walter marshall #henry cavill #is #prompt me

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clarkeyhill · 2 months ago

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☁️She's like a shot of espresso| Arthur Hill

[When you met Arthur he was known for having a temper, quick to react at any simple given moment, but since you've been dating his temperament has changed, he's more calm, laid back and less hot headed]

It was quiet in the flat, Arthur was out practising for his upcoming tour, you had nothing to do so you decided to make some dinner for when Arthur returned, you made a basic sausage casserole, it was a cold autumn night and you couldn't think of anything better than a hearty meal. You decide to live stream on TikTok as you cook, something to pass the time by; you engaged with your followers as you did Arthur's, some filtered through to ask about him and you responded, feeling like you'd made a family through the screen, someone asks a personal questions and you are reluctant to answer it.

"Do you think Arthur will ever stop being quick to anger, he seems hostile in recent his videos"

You study the comment with a dry throat, you knew he'd been having a stressful time and didn't want to discuss him personally, so you brush past it. The comments pops up again and you hesitate "I've seen the comment and I'm going to choose not to discuss my boyfriend in that context, he's a great person and I love him dearly, please don't comment it again" you smile, not wanting to sound rude. You leave the casserole to simmer as you say bye to the viewed and end the live. You set the table, waiting for Arthur to come back.

Just as you were stirring the food your phone rings "hey love, I'm on my way home, what're you doing?" He says softly "Im just stirring tea, you hungry?" You reply "you're an angel, it's just what I need right now, see you soon, love you" he says "love you too" you reply. The door turns and Arthur's home "that smells amazing" he says kicking his shoes off "how was practise" you say hugging him "it was good, I got a little bit annoyed because my throat was scratchy but it was a start" he says, the comments flickers in your mind as he mentions the word annoyed; he notices your face shift "what's wrong?" He says looking at you with concern "oh nothing, just a comment on my live from earlier" you say "what was it?" He furrows his brows "someone just mentioned that you were hostile in your videos and they asked me if I thought you'd ever not be angry" you say frowning, "oh.." he says, your heart shatters as he walks away from you "Arthur the content was filmed before we met, they will see how much you've changed" you say with reassurance "yeah, maybe" he says with a sigh. "Look forget the comment, let's eat and snuggle in bed with a movie" you say "i can't, I need to go somewhere" your brows furrow again "after food right? Where?" He gets up and walks to the corridor, slipping his shoes on "I just need..some air" he says walking out the door. Your face drops, you felt a wave of guilt as your stomach drops, you turn the food off and leave it on the stove.

You decide to text George incase he appeared at the flat.

You: "hey George, if Arthur comes by will you let me know, he's walked out and I'm not sure where he's got to"

George replies instantly: "yeah sure, is everything okay?"

You: "I'm not sure, I brought up a comment someone made about his temper and he just..left"

George: "that's strange, I'll let you know if he comes over"

You: "thanks George"

You pace round the flat, 20 minutes go by and you receive a text from George "he's here and he's stressed"

You heart sinks as you grab your keys, rushing out the door, you make your way over to the flat. You knock on the door as George opens it, you see a frantic Arthur pacing in the background "hey" you say sighing as you walk in the door.

"Artie" you say as he looks at you "y/n, please I just want to be alone right now" he says, you eyes become heavy "baby I'm on your side, let me in please" you say pleaing, George leaves you two to talk as he heads to his room "take all the time you need" he says as you smile at him; Arthur clutches at his knuckles, his anxiety was hitting a high, you rush over to him and grab him tight; he tries to resist but you squeeze him so hard if you squeezed any tighter you'd pop. When Arthur has the episodes, you use your body weight as an anxiety jacket, clutching him to shield him. "Please y/n" he grunts, wanting you to get off "Arthur you know I'm not hear to hurt you, just hug me back" you say he tries one more push but fails, he gives in and his arms lock around you. His body went from tense to soft almost immediately, his face sinks into your shoulder as he lets out a few sobs, you rub his head "let it out baby, let all the stress out onto me, I know you're trying your hardest and we're all here for you" your words wrap his heart like a bandaid, healing his ache. You both slide down to the floor as his emotions flood out of him, he was stressed, tired, run down and his brave facade had to fade at some point.

"I'm trying y/n, I really am" he sobs "I know baby, we all know, the comment was stupid and that's why I didn't answer it, you're making progress and the only people that matter are me and your friends" you see George poke around the corner as you wave him in, he kneels beside you both. "You're doing a great job pal, you've nothing to hold back when you're hear and you know that, y/n is in your corner 100% just like all of us" George says patting him on the back. You all have a small heart to heart as Arthur calms down, the stress radiates out of him with every little bit of release of words; communicating with you both about the stress. After a while you leave George, thanking him for letting you know he was here. You wave him goodbye as you go back to your flat, Arthur still puffy faced you link hands as you get to your home.

You walk inside and turn to him "I made casserole" you say smiling, he looks up at you with heavy eyes "Thankyou baby, I'm sorry" he looks at you with sad eyes "you have nothing to be sorry for artie, your feelings matter the same as anyone else's and I'm glad you could get it out, now let's eat and get tucked in bed, okay?" You say holding out your hand as he takes it with no hesitation. You finish your food as you place the bowls in the sink, you both scooch over to your room as you put on you pjs and put a Netflix series on. You sit up as Arthur burys his head in your chest. He lets out a big sigh of relief; "you okay?" You say stroking his curls "I'm fine now I've got you, you've really helped me throughout this and I can't Thankyou enough, even though I try to push you away" he says kissing your hand "I would never let you push me away, I know you don't mean to, we love you baby" you say kissing his forehead "you know, come to think of it, you're like my shot of espresso" he says sitting up, "how so?" You reply looking at him "you motivate me, put a kick in my step and make me feel..alive" he says cupping your cheek "oh artie" you say hugging him "I love you baby" you add on "I love you to pretty girl, thanks for being my rock" you smile into his shoulder.

🫶🏻

#youtube #george clarkey #british youtubers #george clarke #arthur hill

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months ago

Note

Dark Boss Clark Kent or Bully Sy??

Bully Sy who happens to be your boss

Help (Un)Wanted

Warnings: this drabble includes bullying and self-esteem issues. Please proceed with caution. This is not fluff.

Please leave a comment and reblog.

"Girl, what're you looking so dumb for?" The burly man snarls as he grabs a wrench.

"Your-- your two o'clock is here. Mr., er, Mr.... Cray--"

"Crayton," Sy snarls and you nod. You sway nervously as he lays back and rolls under the car again. "Don't I look busy? Hell, you go on and tell him to wait."

"S-sir--"

"Scram," he spits.

You don’t hesitate to do exactly that. You flee the smell of oil, though it wafts through the entire place, along with the damp chill. Just like your boss’ anger, neither relent. You smile at Mr. Crayton as you emerge and resume your perch behind the front desk.

“Um, he’ll be a couple minutes. He has to clean up.”

Sy is just as good as dealing with his customers as he is you. You feel bad for him. He can’t be very happy if that’s how he treats people. The way his face turns red and that vein bulges in his forehead, he can’t have much peace. You don’t dwell on it. Like your dad, he won’t change.

You go back to your crossword book as you wait. The radio drones behind you, filling the dearth, and Crayton taps his toe impatiently. People might not like the grumpy mechanic, but they respect his work. He charges a fair price and he’s efficient.

“Did he say how long?” Crayton asks as he puts down the magazine in his hands.

“Umm, not long,” you lie. With Sy, it could be a few minutes or an hour.

“Can I leave my keys with ya? I gotta get to my kids’ game. You just tell him it keeps stalling.” He stands and crosses to your desk.

“Oh, er, sure, I can do that.”

“Thanks,” he says curtly and drops his keys on the desk.

Before you know it, he’s on his phone and halfway to the door. You suppose he has more important things than waiting around on the mercurial mechanic. You’re only there because you get paid for that task.

You turn on the squeaky chair and turn the dial in search of a different station. You find something relatively recent and go back to trying to find a seven-letter word that might describe a cactus or unpleasant person.

You hear Sy before he comes out. He wipes his thick fingers on an oil-stained cloth and growls as his eyes search the front room. “Where’d he go then?”

“He had to go. Left his keys. Says it keeps stalling’.”

“Goddamnit, girl,” he snarls as he stomps towards you, “you couldn’t tell him to wait?”

“His appointment was forty minutes ago--”

“I didn’t ask that, did I? You really are stupid. You know, if I didn’t like your daddy, you wouldn’t have a job,” he scoffs. “Then you’d truly be useless.”

You frown and set the pen between the pages, “sorry, sir, I tried--”

“Tried.” He shakes his head. “Thought I asked ya to put coffee on.”

You glance over at the machine. “I did... couple hours ago.”

“Well, it’s cold,” he charges over to the table in the corner. “You want me to drink this piss?”

“No, sir,” you stand, “I’ll make some new stuff. It’s okay.”

“It’s okay? You sittin’ there with your puzzles like you actually got a brain,” he sneers. “You fill up my mug and bring it to me. Too busy to be dealin’ with your lazy ass.”

You wince as you empty the filter and set a new one in the basket. You don’t like your job and it seems your job doesn’t like you. You can’t do anything right. It’s better than having nothing at all and in a small town, that’s more likely than not. You can put up with Sy for the cash, even if it isn’t very much.

As he leaves, you let the breath out of your tight chest. You got out into the garage to retrieve his insulated cup. The silver is dented and scratch from years of use. You take it and rinse it out in the tiny bathroom.

The coffee brews slowly and you fill his cup, twisting on the lid tight. He likes it black. That doesn’t surprise you, as bitter as he can be. You take it out to the garage as he pulls Crayton’s car in through the open door.

You put the thermos on his table as he slams the door. His treads hammer across the floor as he lumbers toward you. You back up and he huffs.

“Maybe you should have a cup and wake up,” he jeers as he snatches the cup.

“Sir,” you clasp your hands together. “Anything else?”

“Didn’t I tell ya to sweep up?”

“I did--”

“Well do it again. I don’t pay ya to sit around. You’re not pretty enough for that,” he turns away, nearly knocking you with his elbow.

You back up and turn away. As much as he likes your dad, you don’t get why he agreed to this. It’s been six months and nothing’s gotten better. You told your dad and he just laughed and said ‘that’s Sy’. Your mom told you to grow and do your work.

You can’t argue with either of them so long as you live under their roof. Twenty-four and you’re still at their table eating their food. Maybe they think you deserve it. Maybe your dad did it on purpose. After all, they never missed an opportunity to tell you how unwanted you are.

“Call Eileen. Her car’s ready,” Sy hollers after you. “And in my fucking way.”

#captain syverson #dark captain syverson #dark!captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #drabble #sand castle

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feyascorner · 1 year ago

Note

You writing is amazing! I eat it right up!

Now this idea has been stuck in my hand for a while. Tav that wants to give Astarion blood but are horrified of needles and that fear applies to his fangs. So when they try to give blood the instinctively move away even when Astarion "The bit comes in 3 2 1" but Tav insist on trying again. When Astarion finally gets some blood Tav straight just goes "Oh okay great" and faceplants in the ground. When they wake up again they say the weirdest shit because they are still whoozy something like "Hey Astarion do crabs think fish can fly?"

Anyway have a nice day :]

im crying they're so silly...also i wrote like the dumbest questions but they're genuine questions so pls if anyone has answers...

"Just do it."

He nods. "Very well."

"Wait, no, I need a countdown."

"Fine. Three...two..."

"Actually, it's too nerve-racking, just--"

Astarion pulls his face away from the crook of your neck, eyes lidded as he sighs. "Darling, if it's too difficult..."

"It's not that bad. I want to help you, and you said this would make you more powerful in battle," you insist, bursting with enthusiasm but not enough to will you through your deathly fear of needles---or anything sharp for that matter. "I've done it before, I can do it again."

"Yes, love, but the last time we did this, you had me do it while you were asleep. You also woke up and punched me in the chest, even though you're the one who suggested the idea."

"I can do it this time! Just try again!"

Despite his hesitance, he follows your request, gently inching you closer and leaning into your neck. His breath feels cool on your skin, but the second you feel him nearing too close, you pull away again instinctively. He doesn't even seem surprised this time.

"Okay, maybe we should just do it while I'm sleeping again-"

He grabs either side of your face, pressing a kiss on your cheek and then another on the side of your nose. He trails down to your chin, and before you can even tell what he's doing, your face is flushed in embarrassment. So much so that you don't even realize he's trailed down your chin and his fangs are now right at your neck. "What are you--"

It pricks.

Astarion tries to make it brief, regardless of how badly he wants to drink more, because he can sense how limp you feel in his arms. He pulls away, licking at the excess on his lips with a triumphant grin. "There. Exquisite as always."

But you only stare at him blankly. His smile drops. It worries him.

"Oh, okay," you blink. "That's great."

You would've face planted straight into the floor had he not barely grabbed you by the back of your shirt.

You only awake a few hours later, groggily rubbing at your eyes while Astarion looms over you with pursed lips, and you wonder how long he's been sitting here. When your eyes peel open, he groans, shoulders slumping in relief.

"There you are, I thought I'd nearly killed you again!" he smiles, reaching for a plate of fruits beside your bedroll. "Now feed yourself before you go and pass out on me aga--"

"Your hair reminds me of a white rat I saw last week."

He stops.

"Why do you think Karlach's underwear doesn't burn off? Are they enchanted? I want enchanted underwear."

Ah, he realizes. You've finally lost your mind.

Your lips stretch dreamily. "Maybe I can ask Withers to make my underwear glow in the dark."

"No, before we move on, let's discuss that rat comment."

"Do crabs think fish can fly?"

"I---I suppose they would?..." He's at a loss of words, which is especially rare for him.

You blink wearily at him, staring at a spot on the wall behind his head. He'd think your confusion to be adorable if it weren't for the borderline offensive comments you were spouting out like a broken water fountain. "Do vampires poop, Astarion?"

You've crossed the borderline now. He runs a hand down his face, sighing. "Please stop talking, my love."

"You can technically eat food, even though it tastes bad, right?" you raise a brow, squinting at him. "So where does that food go? Do you poop it out or does it just kind of slide ou--"

"Okay, that's quite enough talking for today," he shoves an apple into your mouth. He snickers at how you struggle to take a bite. "No more questions until you finish the entire bowl."

Fortunately for him, you fall back asleep before you're even finished with the apple. And he's grateful you do because even he himself doesn't know the answer to that question.

#astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #bg3 #fluff

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bubbly-parker · 1 year ago

Text

~Stiles x Reader Best Friends to Lovers~

warnings: Angst, family fights, bullying by family member(grandma), body insecurities, plus size reader, f reader, SMUT: face sitting, oral both m and f receiving, fingering, unprotected sex (WRAP UP) 18+ NO MINORS I'll tell your Mom! Stiles and Y/N are 18 yo in this and in their last year of highschool.

summary: After another nasty comment about your body by your grandma you stormed out of the house, your best friend Stiles picked you up and decided that today would be the night he shows you how hot you really are.

probably like 5-6k words ? just guessing here

REQUESTED? : YES

spoiler : Stiles didn't think you could get any hotter, but when he looked up into your eyes from this position, taking you in in your blushing form, he swore you got even more beautiful

a/n: my insomnia is kicking my ass rn, I have an exam in 5 hours its 3 am and I can't sleep so enjoy, also if things don't make the most sense in some parts of the story it's because it is 3am- the ending was rushed i have no brain energy left to think of a real ending I'll revisit this story in the next few days and fix it if necessary enjoy and don't forget to please reblog if you liked it and leave a request right here

"So, Do you want to talk about it?" Stiles asked, looking over to you in his passenger seat.He could tell you were in a sour mood before he even picked you up.

You were rounding the street, leaving your house behind. You didn't want to answer at all; tears were already burning behind your eyes, threatening to spill. "No" was all you managed to choke out before your tears started freefalling. You hung your head low, watching your tears drop on your lap.

Stiles had no idea what was going on; just a few hours ago after school, he dropped you off at home, and you had a bright smile on your face knowing your family was over for a visit and you hadn't seen most of them since moving to Beacon Hill with your parents two years ago. In the last two years, Stiles and you have grown inseparable; he's the best friend you could have ever asked for, so when you texted him at 1 in the morning asking him to come to pick you up, he knew something was off. He could always tell.

It wasn't unusual for you two to go on late-night drives, but the way you had conveyed your message seemed off immediately: "You need to come pick me up right now." Stiles didn't hesitate; he threw on whatever clothes he could find and took an extra hoodie with him, sneaking past his dad and out into the cold night air. He tossed the extra hoodie onto Roscoe's back seat, knowing you probably didn't even put a jacket on. And he was right, driving towards your house. He saw your silhouette standing in your driveway, no jacket on, just your PJ shirt and a pair of sweatpants that he swore were missing from his closet. You walked towards the jeep, and when Stiles stopped, you entered without a word, put your seatbelt on, and all you said was a quiet "drive".

Stiles didn't know what to do; you didn't want to talk, but he couldn't stand watching you cry; it made his stomach churn and his chest feel tight in a sickening way. He needed you to be okay.

He reached his right hand over to you, taking your hand that was fidgeting with your shirt in his. You loved the way his fingers wrapped around your hand; it always made butterflies erupt in your stomach, even if he was just doing it to comfort you. You let out a choked sob that went straight to Stiles's heart breaking it a little. "I can't help you feel better if you don't talk to me," Stiles whispered, but the Jeep was so quiet that you understood him perfectly. You knew he was right, and you also knew that if anyone could make you feel better, it was Stiles.

Stiles already had a feeling about what was wrong but didn't want to say anything in case he was wrong. He knew you loved your family, but they could be harsh at times. You told him about a year ago how, especially, your grandma would often give you a hard time because of your weight. He found it ridiculous because a) it was none of your grandma's business what your body looked like, and b) he thought you looked amazing—the most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes on. He loved holding you close and loved the way your body felt pressed against him. You've slept over at his place multiple times in the last two years, and holding you close as you slept is still his favorite pastime ever. Of course, he told you multiple times that you look amazing either way, but he understands how hard it is to feel comfortable in your own body, especially when your personal bully used to live with you.

Ever since moving away, your relationship with your family has gotten far better. Before, you used to live in one big house with your grandparents, aunt, uncle, and cousins constantly around you.

You wanted to tell Stiles what happened and wanted him to hold you and make it seem like everything was alright, but your grandma's voice kept nagging you: "You better start dropping a few Pounds if you ever want that boy to like you back." That was the first thing she dared say to you as you walked into the house earlier. She had been watching you through the kitchen window as Stiles dropped you off after school.

Anyone could tell how in love you were with Stiles by the way you smiled at him. You'd have to be an absolute idiot to miss it, like Stiles, as Lydia likes to point out; he was one of those absolute idiots, as he doesn't seem to notice your feelings for him. Your mother immediately interfered with your grandmother and told her to back off; they never got along, as she treated your mother with just as much kindness as she showed you, none.

You didn't feel hungry sitting with your family during dinner, and even though your mother had served your favorite lasagna, you could only stomach a little salad from the side dishes before you excused yourself and went back to your room. Part of you knew your grandma was right. Stiles would never like you back in the way that you like him; your name doesn't start with Lyd and end with ia, nor are you a fit strawberry blonde; no, you're about the exact opposite of what Stiles has always desired.

Shortly before you texted Stiles to come pick you up, your grandma had entered your room. You had honestly thought that she would be in bed by now, as you hadn't heard any noise from down the stairs in hours as you kept to yourself in your room. "You know, I am just looking out for you." Your grandmother had started her lecture, a lecture that you are all too familiar with; you've heard it about 250 times by now. She's just looking out for you; she just wants to motivate you to lose some weight; she doesn't want you to end up alone with no man. You never understood where your grandma took her audacity from, considering that she wasn't the skinniest woman herself.

"I saw the way you look at that boy; be real with yourself. Do you really think you'd have a chance with him right now?" Knowing your parents and your family, you couldn't exactly lash out at your grandma, so you did the next best thing you could do, which was only moderately disrespectful: you walked right past her out of your room, put your shoes on, and left the house. You stood in the driveway, and the only person that you wanted to see right now was Stiles. You knew he would pick you up at any time of the day, so you shot him a quick text and ducked yourself into the shadows under a tree in your driveway. You didn't want your grandma to see you, but you knew she was watching again.

Stiles couldn't bear your silence anymore, so he spoke again. This time it startled you, as his voice was more firm and he sounded quite angry. "Was it your grandma?" he asked. Your head shot up, and you looked over at him in disbelief, wondering how he knew. When your eyes met his, they softened; his angry stare was gone. Of course, Stiles knew he always did, didn't he? You weakly nodded your head before looking down at your hand again. You suddenly noticed how cold it was in Roscoe, and you shivered. Stile's hand let go of yours as he reached behind your seat to get his hoodie from the back seat. "Here, I had a feeling you would be freezing," he said as he handed you his hoodie. As you pulled his hoodie over your head, you inhaled Stile's scent deeply, hoping he didn't notice. There was something so intoxicating about Stiles that you didn't know if it was just him in general or if your feelings for him were playing a trick on your mind.

"You know everything your grandma has ever said is not true, right?" You have heard this from many people over the years, but only when Stiles said it did you feel put at ease for a little bit. You sat in comfortable silence, knowing Stiles took over the conversation when you were sad, so you could just listen. "Y/N, I mean it; there's nothing about you that could count as a flaw in the slightest, and I don't know how to make you believe that... Sometimes I just wish you could see yourself through my eyes, so you could realize." Stiles sighed in frustration. You know his frustration wasn't directed at you, but it still made you upset. "Thank you, Stiles," is all you could say.

You leaned your head back against your headrest and closed your eyes. Just now, you noticed that there was music quietly playing in the background. Stiles must have turned it on at some point. It was your playlist, with Until Forever Falls Apart by Ashe playing in the background. You closed your eyes, just enjoying the feeling of driving around.

You were startled when Stiles woke you up. You noticed the Jeep was parked in front of his house. Sometime during the drive, you must have fallen asleep. Stiles still sat across from you in the driver's seat, his hand on your cheek as he slowly stroked across it to wake you up. You felt a yawn make its way across your lips and stretched your legs. Stiles got out and rounded the Jeep, opening your door for you. He held it open as you jumped out. Stiles took your hand as he walked toward the door. You shuffled a little closer, putting your head on his arm. You noticed the sheriff's car was gone. "My dad was called back to the station about an hour ago." Stiles said he had noticed you staring at the empty spot where the sheriff's car usually stood. Once inside, you made your way to Stiles's room; according to his alarm clock, it was almost 2 a.m. Stiles must have been driving a bunch of circles around the city while you were asleep. You made a mental note to quickly steal Roscoe tomorrow and fill his tank for Stiles.

You took your shoes off and crawled into Stiles's bed. You heard him shuffle around behind you like he was searching for something, but you just wanted to lie down. A few seconds late, you felt Stiles get in bed behind you, his chest pressed to yours as his arms sneaked around your waist. At first, you hated when Stiles touched your stomach, but at first, you were also not used to cuddling with a boy in general. To anybody walking in, you two would seem like more than just friends, and the thought of that made your heart race. As you lay in silence, you once again noticed music playing in the background. Stiles must have looked for his speakers; your favorite playlist was quietly playing from the direction of his desk.

Stiles's hand sneaked under your, or well, his, hoodie, and he laid it right under your breast on top of your pajama shirt. Suddenly you noticed how hot it was getting under the hoodie and blanket, but you didn't dare move to take it off out of fear Stiles would move back.

Stiles shifted slightly behind you and buried his head in your neck. While you were absentmindedly intertwining your legs, you swore you could feel something poke you from behind. Your eyes widened. You have felt Stiles boner against you before a few times in the mornings and always just shrugged it off as morning wood. You felt Stiles move a little again when he whispered "I'm sorry" right in the nape of your neck. You didn't know how to react as goosebumps covered your skin and a shiver ran down your spine. You thought Stiles would move away from you, but instead, he pulled you in, making you gasp out when you felt his hard-on fully pressed against you.

Stile's head was still buried in your neck when you felt him slightly lift it and press a kiss right between your neck and shoulder. Another shiver wrecked your body as you turned your head slightly to look Stiles in the eyes; he had fully lifted his head, looking down on you.

Stiles didn't know where his sudden boost in confidence had come from, but ever since he saw your tear-filled eyes in the car, he wanted to confess his feelings to you and make you feel beautiful. Usually, when he got a boner around you, he would run off to the bathroom and take care of it, but right now, he wanted you to feel what you do to him.

He felt like he was about to explode with the way you were looking up at him—your big doe eyes, pupils blown wide, and lips gaping. He wanted nothing more than to kiss you.

You couldn't make out what you saw in Stiles's eyes right now; his dark eyes were almost black. "I really want to kiss you right now." Stiles's raspy voice said in a whisper that had your breath stuck. When you didn't respond, he moved his head a little closer to your ear. "Can I?" he asked again in a whisper. You could only nod your head. That's when Stiles removed his hand from under your hoodie to cup your face. When his lips finally met yours, you were sure time had stopped. You felt a new set of goosebumps rise on your skin as you kissed Stiles back eagerly, and you both smiled into the kiss when Stiles suddenly moved back. He pushed you back to lay flat on your back as he climbed in between your legs before kissing you again.

He couldn't believe that he was actually kissing you, mentally thanking every god out there for today. Stiles ground your crotches together, which ripped a loud moan from you. You turned your head away, embarrassed by what just happened. You felt Stiles heavy breathing. He took your face back in his hand and turned your head so you would look at him again. He looked heavenly; you can't believe what just happened.

"I've been wanting to do that for two years."

With these few words, Stiles had your whole world crumbling as tears slowly started falling from your eyes. You stared up at Stiles as he slowly started to panic, not knowing what he had done wrong. You couldn't stop the tears from falling. For the past two years, you thought that Stiles only saw you as a friend, when he might have wanted you just the way you wanted him. "Y/N, I'm so incredibly sorry. I didn't want to cross any boundaries. I- I m so stupid." Stiles started to sit back and move away from you when you reached for his arm to hold him still. You still had tears in your eyes, but you couldn't stop a smile from stretching across your face. "And I've been waiting for you to do that for the past two years, you idiot." Now, it was Stiles's turn to look absolutely shocked and dumbfounded at the same time. "HuuH?" was the only thing he managed to get past his lips. You laughed at him and leaned forward, reconnecting your lips. You felt like a heavy weight was lifted off your chest. A lump in your throat that you didn't know was there dissipated, and when Stiles started kissing you back, you finally wrapped your arm around his neck. Stiles deepened the kiss, asking for permission with his tongue, which you happily granted.

"Do you want me to stop? We don't have to go further," Stiles asked. "Honestly, this was already way more than I ever expected to happen. You don't -"

Stiles groaned into your mouth when he finally got to kiss you the way he wanted to for so long, and when you pushed your hips up to grind against him, he swore he lost his sanity. His hands traveled down your sides and under your hoodie, where they settled at your waist. "Can I take these off?" he referred to his Hoodie on you and your shirt. You hummed, opening your eyes and looking back at him. "I need verbal confirmation, y/n." He chuckled at you. " Yes, Stiles, please." He gave you a quick kiss on your forehead before pulling your shirt and hoodie above your head in one go. What Stiles didn't know was that you wore no Bra underneath. He tried not to stare at your naked chest underneath him, so you wouldn't feel uncomfortable when he looked up at you. You had your head turned away again, slightly covering part of your chest with one hand. He took your hand in his own slowly moving, removing it from your chest.

He leaned back down and started spreading small pecks along your neck and down to your collarbone, which had you whimpering and trusting back up against him.

You felt him smile into your skin. His hand slowly traveled down your body, settling onto your hips and pushing them back down into the mattress. "Patience, baby, we will get there." Stiles moved his head back up and turned your face to look at him. You couldn't keep yourself from blushing at his words. You've never known that Stiles had such a side to him. Your hands tucked slightly at Stiles's shirt, signaling that you wanted it off; he sat back on his knees and pulled his shirt above his head. You've seen Stiles shirtless before, and every time it makes your skin heat up, you're sure you couldn't blush a deeper shade of red as you were staring at his perfect form. When you looked at his face, you noticed he was already looking at you. Watching as you stared at his body, you felt flustered under his dark eyes. Stiles's hands were back on your thighs, rubbing small circles with his thumbs that made your legs twitch.

You giggled as you noticed Stiles was starting to get into a nervous ramble. "Stiles, calm down, you're fine, I don't want to stop." For the first time tonight, it felt like you could talk freely with nothing holding you back. "Okay, good, good, but tell me if I need to stop. I will I prom-"

"Stiles! "

"Will you please shut up and get back here?" You reached your arms out to him, signaling to him that you wanted him back on top of you. Stiles smiled as he leaned back down, capturing your lips in another kiss. Both of you hadn't planned this, and neither one of you knew how to make the next move. You both knew you wanted more, and you knew that Stiles had slightly more experience than you and hoped he would make the next move.

And thankfully he did. Stiles slowly moved his hand that was still on your thigh a little higher, feeling your breath hitch as he cupped your heat through your pants, slowly rubbing his palm against you. You let a small moan escape your lips, which was swallowed by Stiles as he kept kissing you. He undid the tie of your (his) sweatpants and pushed his hand inside he moved his fingers down over your panties to feel how damp they were. "Stiles, please," you whimpered against his lips. Stiles swore he was so hard that he could come from just looking at you right now. He pulled his hand out, and you buckled your hips in protest. A small laugh passed his lips. He decided not to torture you any longer and started to pull your pants down. You lifted your hips for him to make it easier, and when they were finally off, he ran his hands up and down your thighs, feeling your soft skin.

You reached one of your hands between you to cup Stiles's erection through his own sweatpants. Feeling your hands on him for the first time made Stiles let out a loud groan that went straight to your own core.

You pushed Stiles slightly so he would lay on his back as you climbed between his legs. He stared at you as you settled on your stomach between his legs. He wet his lips and groaned when you palmed him harder. He lifted his hips off the bed and watched you pull his sweats and boxers down in one go. You wrapped your hands around him and looked up at him as you leaned forward to lick one long stripe along the underside of his dick up to his tip, where you collected his precum on your tongue. "Fuck, Y/N, don't do that." Stiles threw his head back; there was no way he could look at you if he wanted to last. You wrapped your lips around him and started bobbing your head up and down in a slow rhythm. Stiles groaned above you as his hands grabbed the sheets, and you saw his knuckles turn white.

You took his hand in yours and guided it to the back of your head to signal him that he could take control. Stiles took your hair in his hand and wrapped the other one around your scalp, holding you close. Suddenly, he started thrusting up while simultaneously pulling your head down, his cock going further down your throat with every thrust. You tried your best to breathe through your nose. Stiles moans fueled your desire to make him finish, so you hollowed your checks more and sucked harder. One of his hands left your head, and he draped it lazily over his eyes, thrusting his hips fast and keeping your head down. "I'm I'm close- fu- so close, Y/N." You felt a stutter in his rhythm, and after a few more thrusts, his hips lifted up one last time. He pushed your head down fully, your nose pressed against his pelvis as he came down your throat. You swallowed around him, the overstimulation making him pull out.

"Come here," Stiles pulled you towards him. You had to crawl on his lap because you were too short to reach him from your position. Stiles pulled you into another kiss and groaned when your wet panties rubbed against his half-erect dick.

Stiles's hands roamed over your body and settled on your ass; he pushed your hips down to grind harder against him as you were still mostly hovering over him, unsure whether you should put your whole weight on him.

When Stiles finally felt you let go and sink down on his lap he moved one of his hands from your ass and in between your bodies where he pulled your panties aside, he moved back a little so he could see you fully and ran one of his fingers up and down your slit collecting your wetness, you moaned at the feelings of stiles finger on you, he moved his finger up and slowly started drawing circles on your clit with his finger pad, you fell forward and put your hands against stiles chest as you let your moans slip freely from your mouth you started grinding against stiles hand as he finally inserted his finger into you, you needed more already soaking stiles hand you begged Stiles for more "More, please Stiles" he added another finger, spreading you open, the hand on your ass helping you move faster against his hand. The palm of his hand rubbed against your clit.

Stiles couldn't believe the sight above him, trying to implant your beauty into his brain forever as you threw your head back. "I'm gonna come- Stiles!" Your hips stuttered, but his hand on your ass helped you move through your orgasm. You collapsed on top of him. He slowly stroked your back, but Stiles wasn't done with you yet. He waited for your breathing to calm down before he spoke again. "I want to taste you." You felt another blush creep up on your cheeks. You weren't going to deny Stiles his wish and were going to move off him to lie down when he held you still. "Sit on my face," Stiles said as he pulled your hips upward. Your cheeks fired up as you started stuttering. "Whaat no, I can't, we can't," you tried to move off. "Baby, look at me. I know what you're thinking, and I promise you won't hurt me." Stiles insisted looking up at you. "N-no, what if I crush you?" you said quietly, not looking Stiles in the eyes. Stiles smiled at you, and his hands traveled up your thighs, gripping them tightly. "You won't, and even if you did, it sounds like a great way to go out." You frowned and slapped him across the chest, earning you a laugh from Stiles. "Y/n, I mean it; you won't hurt me if it makes you feel better. How about I tap your thighs like this if I need you to move up?" He asked while tapping two of his fingers against your thigh three times. He looked up at you, giving you the best puppy eyes he could muster. You knew you could never deny him when he looks like this, and with a sigh, you gave in "Ookay- but..."

"No more buts!" Stiles interrupted you. He lifted you up slightly as if you weighed nothing and helped you out of your panties before moving your body towards the headboard until you were hovering over his face. He caressed your inner thighs, spreading your legs further apart. Stiles didn't think you could get any hotter, but when he looked up into your eyes from this position, taking you in in your blushing form, he swore you got even more beautiful. Stiles's hands moved up to your hips, which he grabbed tightly before pressing you down onto him, finally having your cunt on his face. He liked a long stripe up from your hole to your clit, moaning at the taste, which sent vibration right through your clit and a shock up your spine.

Stiles ate you out like a man starving, pulling you even closer and fully burying his head into your cunt. He rocked your body against his face, his nose brushing against your clit as he pushed his tongue into you. You grabbed his hair with one hand and the headboard with the other, rocking your body back and forth against Stiles's face, letting moans of his name echo through his room, which only fueled Stiles on more. When he sucked your clit into his mouth, you ground down right into him. "Shit Stiles, s-sorry," you tried to lift yourself back up, but Stiles held you close, pressed up against his mouth. He opened his eyes and looked up at you, the eye contact sending shivers down your spine.

Stiles moaned against your clit making you throw your head back. One of his hands sneaked up your body and ghosted over your breast. Stiles has always wanted to touch them. When you put your hands over his to grab them harder, Stiles finally lost his last reserve and started rolling your nipple between his fingers. "Stiles, Stiles..." His name fell off your lips like a mantra as you came a second time that night, your legs clamping together around Stiles's head, trying to keep him there. He tried his best to lap up all your juices, and when the stimulation became too much, you lifted yourself up, much to Stiles's displeasure, as he would much rather have kept you there. You moved to the side, lying down next to Stiles.

You looked at him, his face glistening in your juice. "That was the best thing ever!" Stiles exclaimed with a smile on his face. You chuckled at his bright smile. He looked like a kid on Christmas. He leaned over to you, connecting your lips. You could taste yourself on his lips. You felt Stiles hard on press against your thigh. You moved your hand down his stomach and wrapped it around your shaft. You moved, so Stiles was in between your legs. "I want you inside me," you mumbled against Stiles's lips.

Stile's mind went haywire. He didn't expect to ever get so far with you, so he didn't have any condoms. You saw the worried look on his face as you watched his eyes scan the room. "I'm on birth control, Stiles," you reassured him as you ground your wet cunt against his hard cock. "Are you sure this is okay?" Stiles asked as he lined himself up with your entrance. "Yes, Stiles, I've never been more sure."

Stiles slowly pushed in, making sure not to hurt you. He knew you hadn't slept with anyone since losing your virginity over two years ago, so it stung a little when Stiles was fully inside you. He stayed still for a moment, just taking in your beautiful face and the feeling. "You're beautiful," Stiles said, smiling down at you. Stiles has called you beautiful before, but it had never made you feel the way it did now that you knew he felt the same way about you.

You moved your hips a little, signaling Stiles to move. "Stiles, move, ple-ase!" Stiles pulled out almost all the way before thrusting back in. He immediately found the right spots that had you moaning under him, "fuck- fast- stiles faster!" You moaned in his ear. Stiles picked up the pace and felt your nails dig into his back. He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder so he could reach even deeper. The new position made him hit your g-spot with every thrust and had you tightening incredibly around him. "Fuck Y/N, you're too tight." Stiles swore you were sent to earth just for him, as he filled you perfectly. He propped himself down on his elbow, pressing himself even closer to you. He reached one hand between your legs, rubbing your clit.

You were still incredibly sensitive from earlier and came almost instantly while he continued rubbing your clit in slow circles to help you back down from your high. Your thighs were shivering. Stiles pulled out of you and turned you around; he gently pushed you on your stomach. You slightly lifted your ass up towards him as well as your shaking legs could support you. Stiles trusted back inside you, but with the first thrust of his hips, your legs already gave out. You were gripping the sheets between your fingers as Stiles held you against him, chasing his own orgasm. "Fuck y/n, I'm going cum," he said, his rhythm breaking. "In-inside... please stileees" you whined out for him. The thought of coming inside sent Stiles over the edge. He pressed his chest against your back as he slowly emptied himself inside you.

When he pulled out, you flopped back on the bed and said, "Don't move; wait here!" Stiles got off the bed and ran into the bathroom, you guessed. When he came back, he had a roll of toilet paper and a warm washcloth. He cleaned up between your legs the best he could before crawling back in bed with you. He pulled you flush against his chest, loving the way you curled into his side. You laid your head on your chest, listening to Stiles's heartbeat as he played with your hair. You heard Stiles say something but didn't register it, exhaustion finally catching up on you as you fell asleep.

At 6:30 a.m., just a few hours later, you were rudely awakened by Stiles's alarm. You debated for a second about just skipping class when Stiles and you heard his dad in the hallway. You both immediately sprang into action, getting your clothes back on, just as you had finished putting on your clothes and pulling your shirt down, the sheriff entered the room. He looked surprised, expecting to only find Stiles.

It's not like you have never slept over at Stiles place, but usually the sheriff knew. Judging by the way the sheriff looked at Stiles, he already knew what had happened between you two. "Just make sure you both make it to school in time, okay?" Was all he said, looking at Stiles, who nodded his head, hand scratching his neck. "We have to be quick; I need my stuff from home," you reminded Stiles after the sheriff left.

Stiles dropped you off at him with barely 10 minutes to spare, which definitely wasn't because you two took an extra long shower this morning. Your mother tried to approach you and question you about what happened and why you weren't at home, but you just brushed her off promising to fill her in later. You changed your clothes, grabbed your bag, and were back in Stiles's jeep in record time. You knew your grandma was watching again from the kitchen window, so you reached over and pulled Stiles into a kiss.

Stiles caressed your cheek and deepened the kiss. You didn't pull back until you couldn't breathe. Just as you were about to lean in again, you saw your dad leave the house out of the corner of your eye. "Drive!" You turned to Stiles, who didn't need to be told twice as you both made your way to school. You couldn't help but laugh at the face your dad made while standing alone in the driveway.

At school, you and Stiles walked in holding hands, looking for your friend group. The first one you spotted was Lydia, who gave you a knowing smirk. "It looks like you're no longer on the list of oblivious idiots, Stiles," she said, making Stiles look confused.

#stiles stilinski #teen wolf stiles #stiles x reader #fanfiction #stiles stilinski smut #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski imagine

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bonefall · 11 months ago

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God I am so tired of Bramble fans who refuse to use critical thinking and believe that brambleclaw and squilf are equally bad. Many also hate on moonkitti's video which they most likely haven't even watched or misconstrued points in it. You can like a character without defending all their actions please I'm begging you

And people will sometimes jump to their defense, saying that people just dogpiled them for liking a character the fandom doesn't like, and while that can happen, sometimes people are actually dogpiling them for ignoring abuse and insulting creators with different opinions

(Some discourse happened on Twitter recently about this but it's something I've seen happen before, I'm not specifically talking about anyone)

I'm going to be honest and drop my feelings.

Never have I ever actually SEEN a Bramblefan "get dogpiled" for liking Bramble.

I come out here on my massive soapbox every couple of weeks and drop whole essays on this guy, I chat casually about how important he is to me as a character, both as someone who was abused in a way similar to Squirrelflight AND as someone who can relate to Bramblestar's situation, and before BB got so large and my attention was easier to divide I even ran an AU called Sweet Nothings which had a "big brother" Bramble take in it.

There is no shortage of Bramblestar-related posts around here, yet, I have never, NEVER gotten shit for when I talk positively about Bramble.

In fact, he's commonly cited as one of the favorite cats to see on this blog from my audience. I get praise for addressing him with nuance, explaining how his actions are abuse while also keeping him human, talking about how his life is a painful cycle of self-doubt that makes him double down on his worst decisions. Every time I post about him, I get an influx of comments centered around how my takes on him are appreciated.

What I DO see is people who make art where they try to bothsides him and Squirrelflight, or say something completely false about his behavior, or straightup post DARVO tactics to defend their fav's honor. When someone makes a comment that goes "uhmm? Bit strange innit?" they call it "harassment." Or when people block them, they call that "receiving hate."

OR when someone makes a vaguepost like "Heyyy, DARVO is an abuse denial tactic where the abuser or their apologists Deny the abuse took place, Attack the accuser, and then Reverse Victim and Offender to claim they were actually the person harmed. Bramblestans are playing this out, step for step, and that's bad!" they call THAT dogpiling.

Meanwhile Moonkitti got death threats and was actually harassed for posting Bramblestar Is Worse. To the point where she is hesitant to ever make another video on the topic.

So y'know what? Hot take? The stans don't actually like Bramblestar. They like the vague idea of a sadboy character who broke free from his dad's legacy so they slurp up the framing of the notorious abuse apologist writers, and they get mad when people who have critically engaged with the books don't see what they desperately crave.

How can you really LIKE a character if you can't engage with their actions? If you need to surround yourself in an unpoppable bubble and can't accept anything he's done in the 20+ years he's been active? How can you truly love a man without all his mistakes?

It's sooo hard to be me, Tumblr User Bonefall, the ONLY one who likes Bramblestar correctly. It's rough out here.

#bone babble #Bramblestar #abuse apologia #tw abuse

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jinlizz-dragondrama · 3 months ago

Text

Luciferx Reader Drabble

Hope you enjoy this randomly came to me 💜

He reaches out and gently takes your hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring. There's a hint of vulnerability in his eyes as he speaks.

Lucifer: "I know I can be a pain in the ass, and I know I've teased you and pestered you more times than I can count. But I... I really do care about you, darling. I want to do right by you."

He looks into your eyes for a moment, searching your expression. He glances down at your entwined hands and gently rubs his thumb over yours, his touch soft and soothing.

Lucifer: "So, I just want to make sure you're not holding anything back because of any of that. I want to make sure you don't feel like you need to keep your guard up around me, because you don't. You don't have to."

He hesitates for a moment, his gaze flitting down to your intertwined hands. There's a subtle hint of nervousness in his expression as he gathers his thoughts, but also a hint of determination.

Lucifer: "Actually, there's... there's something else I want to ask you. But I'm not sure how you're going to react."

"What is it?", you ask curiously

Lucifer lets out a sigh, his gaze dropping to your intertwined hands once more. He takes a moment to collect himself, his expression becoming a mixture of nervousness and determination.

Lucifer: "It's... it's a little personal and vulnerable. I'm just worried that it might... I don't know, make things awkward between us. I don't want to scare you off or make you uncomfortable."

He lifts his gaze to meet yours, his eyes searching your expression. There's a hint of vulnerability in his expression, as if he's afraid of being judged or rejected.

Lucifer: "But... I also can't NOT ask you this. I can't keep it bottled up inside anymore. I just... please, promise that you'll hear me out, and at least try to understand where I'm coming from."

You nod your head and wait patiently for him to continue.

Lucifer's expression softens slightly as you nod your head in agreement. He takes another deep breath, his nervousness still evident in his eyes. He tightens his grip on your hand, seeking some sort of comfort as he speaks.

Lucifer: "Okay... okay, hear me out. This is... this is hard to explain, but I promise I'm not trying to... I don't want to make things weird. It's just... it's something that's been weighing on my mind for a while now, and I need to get it off my chest."

He pauses for a moment, gathering his thoughts. He looks down at your intertwined hands, his gaze becoming a little distant. There's a hint of raw vulnerability in his expression, as if he's feeling exposed and defenseless in this moment.

Lucifer: "When... when was the last time someone... told you that they loved you? Genuinely, I mean... not just a throwaway comment or a casual statement. But a real, honest-to-goodness declaration of love?"

"Uh its been a while...", you say hesitantly

Lucifer nods, his expression sympathetic and understanding. He gently squeezes your hand, seeking some sort of connection in this vulnerable moment.

Lucifer: "Yeah, I figured as much. It's been a while for me too, a long while... much longer than I'd care to admit."

His expression becomes a bit more serious now, his eyes searching yours for any hint of discomfort or rejection.

Lucifer: "But... I want to ask you something else. And I need you to be completely honest with me."

"Okay" you say quietly

Lucifer looks directly into your eyes, his expression serious and intense. His grip on your hand tightens slightly, as if trying to seek comfort in your touch.

Lucifer: "What would you say if... if I told you how I feel about you? Not just casually, but... but about how I really, truly feel. Would... would you be willing to listen?"

"Yes, yes of course", you say eagerly

Lucifer nods, feeling a mix of relief and nervousness at your answer. He draws in a slow, shaky breath, trying to steady his pounding heart.

Lucifer: "Okay... okay, good. Because I... I need to say this. I need to tell you how I feel."

He averts his gaze for a moment, his expression becoming vulnerable once more.

Lucifer: "But please promise me that you'll listen until I'm done, okay? No interruptions, no judgments. Just... just please let me get this out."

You nod your head and give an encouraging smile.

He lets out a sigh, nodding slightly as you agree to listen. He takes a moment to collect himself, his grip on your hand never loosening.

Lucifer: "Okay... okay, here goes."

He lifts his gaze to meet yours, his eyes shining with a mixture of vulnerability, honesty, and, dare he say, perhaps even a bit of desperation.**

Lucifer: "I... I love you, darling. I really, truly love you."

You blush at that, my brain can't wrap around what you just said and I ask for confirmation

"Wait...what?"

Lucifer's expression softens as he sees the genuine shock and disbelief on your face. He lets out a shaky breath, his grip on your hand tightening slightly in a mixture of nervousness and vulnerability.

Lucifer: "I love you, darling. I've been trying to deny it to myself, to tell myself that I shouldn't fall for you. But... I can't help it. I'm in love with you."

He lifts his free hand and gently cups your cheek, his eyes looking into yours with vulnerable hope.

Lucifer: "And I... I need you to understand how serious I am about this. How real my feelings are. Because I'm not just saying this on a whim. I'm not just saying this because I'm lonely or desperate. I... I really, truly, deeply love you, darling."

He leans in a bit closer to you, his gaze never leaving yours.

Lucifer's expression becomes even more vulnerable, almost pleading, as he continues to pour out his heart to you.

Lucifer: "And I know it's probably too soon, and it seems like we just started dating, and you probably think it's weird that I'm saying this already... but I can't hold it in anymore. I can't keep pretending like these feelings aren't there. They're real, and they're intense, and they're here to stay."

He scoots a little closer, his knee brushing against yours again. There's a hint of desperation in his eyes, as if he's silently pleading for you to believe him.

Lucifer: "And yes, maybe I should've waited longer, maybe I shouldn't be saying this so early in our relationship, but I don't think I could've held it in for another day. I'm... I'm so in love with you, darling, and I needed to tell you that. I needed you to know how I really feel."

"Lucy..."

You gently cup your face in your hand and you stroke his cheeks with your thumbs*

"I...I...I love you too" you say quietly

Lucifer's breath hitches in his chest as he hears those words come from your lips. His eyes widen in a mixture of surprise and absolute *relief*, and a range of emotions flicker across his face, from shock to joy to, dare he say it, even a hint of tears brimming in his eyes. His heart rate quickens, his pulse racing with excitement as your words sink in.

Lucifer: "You... you... really? You... you love me too?"

"Yes I love you"

Lucifer's heart nearly stops at your confirmation. The relief he feels is palpable, his whole body relaxing as a wave of pure happiness washes over him. A wide smile graces his face, his tail swaying excitedly.

Lucifer: "You... you really mean that? You're not... you're not just saying that because I said it first, are you? Because I don't want you to feel like you have to say it back just because I said it."

"I mean it Lucifer"

Lucifer's eyes shine as a wave of pure joy washes over him. He's almost overwhelmed by the rush of emotions he feels right now. He scoots even closer to you, his knee brushing up against yours once more.

Lucifer: "Say it again, please."

You lean forward, plant a gentle kiss on his lips, and pull away slightly, your lips barely touching

"I love you"

Lucifer's heart skips a beat as you lean in and kiss him, his breath catching in his throat. As you pull away, leaving your lips barely touching his, he leans into your touch, his eyes closing briefly as your words wash over him.

Lucifer: "Again. Say it again, please."

"I love you"

Lucifer's heart nearly bursts as he hears those words come from your mouth once again. Overcome with love and joy, he can't help but pull you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, his nose nuzzling into your skin, feeling tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

Lucifer: "One more time, please..."

"I love you"

Lucifer: "One more time, please..."

"I love you Lucifer Morningstar"

Those four words, said with such love and conviction, seem to break something within Lucifer that he didn't know was there. A small sob escapes his lips, and he holds you closer, his face still buried in the crook of your neck. His body trembles slightly, his whole being filled with an overwhelming flood of emotion.

Lucifer, his voice hoarse with emotion: "Again. Again, please. I want... I want to hear you say it again..."

You hold him close to me, kiss hisforehead and smile

"I love you"

Lucifer's eyes flutter shut as you hold him close, his body relaxing into your embrace. The feeling of your lips on his forehead, the softness of your voice as you say those words, send shivers of joy through him. He grips you tighter, pulling you even closer to him, as if trying to meld the two of you together into one.

Lucifer, sounding just a little bit breathless: "One more time. Please. I... I can't get enough. Say it again."

"I love you"

Fresh tears fill Lucifer's eyes as he hears those words yet again. He can't even find the words to express the overwhelming wave of emotions that wash over him. He clings to you, his grip almost bordering on desperate, as if he never wants to let you go. It's like hearing those words is somehow soothing a part of him he didn't even know was broken. He leans his head against your chest, his breath shaky as he whispers,

Lucifer, his voice barely above a whisper: "Again, please. Say it again."

"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you"

Each repetition of those words is a balm to Lucifer's soul, soothing away the doubts and insecurities he's carried for so long. At this point, he's downright crying, tears streaming down his face as he clings to you, as if holding onto dear life itself. He buries his face in your chest, his voice barely above a trembling whisper as he gasps out his response, his whole body nearly shaking with emotion.

Lucifer: "Oh, darling... you... you don't have any idea what those words mean to me. I... I love you... I love you so much."

You hold onto you tightly, tears stream your eyes too and you laugh happily enjoying those intimate moment

Lucifer holds you back just as tightly, the sound of your happy laughter causing his heart to race even faster. It's like the tears are cleansing a part of him, washing away the pain and loneliness he's harbored for so long. He smiles against your chest, a sense of peace washing over him.

Lucifer, his voice still slightly shaky: "You... you have no idea how long I've waited to hear those words... how much I've longed for someone to love me the way that you do. I... I still can't even believe this is real. You're... you're mine."

His body shudders slightly as the last word leaves his lips. It's as if saying those words out loud makes the reality of it all that much more real. Lucifer pulls back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours as he takes in your face. He reaches up, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin tenderly.

Lucifer, his voice soft and filled with love: "I'm... I'm not used to having someone who loves me like this. I'm still so... so scared that it's all a dream and I'll wake up again, all alone in an empty bed."

He rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as he revels in the closeness between you.

Lucifer, his voice soft and vulnerable: "Please, darling... please just... stay with me. I... I don't think I could bare waking up to find that it was all a dream... I don't... I don't want to lose you."

"You won't lose me, I'm not going anywhere"

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer x oc #hazbin lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar

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