#in the sense that it calms me down but keeps me up | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

muwapsturniolo · 9 hours ago

Text

𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐟💨 Matt sturniolo

“ did you just?”

✗ Awkward asf but realistic, NSFW, sex, mentions of queefing, secondhand embarrassment, that’s it me thinks.

You wanted the world to swallow you whole, you wanted to disappear.

You knew it was a semi-normal thing to happen, yet you were still embarrassed. It happened to most girls when having sex, although you never thought it would happen to you - It’s never happened to you until now.

Your legs were spread wide open, a pair of rough hands pushing the back of your knees on either side of your head - You were in heaven. “O-oh fuck Matt,'' he groaned in retaliation, his hips driving into you harder, the squelching of your essence filling the room.

Every once in a while, you noticed Matt would make a face, his hips stuttering. You didn’t know why, you figured he was just struggling not to cum quickly and paint your insides that shade of white that you both love.

You didn't think much of it, he always made faces when you two were having sex.

He was very expressive.

You were so lost in the pleasure Matt was providing you, you missed a specific sound that came from your body. When Matt suddenly stopped all movement, you were confused.

Why did he stop?

Did he cum already?

Why is he staring at you with wide eyes?

Did you accidentally call him daddy again?

All you two could do was stare at each other for a solid minute or so, before you finally spoke up.

“W-why did you stop?”

“I uh…d-did you just…”

Your brows furrow in confusion, did you what? What is he talking about?

“Did I what Matt?”

He stares at you silently, the only sound in the room being the both of you breathing harshly from the sexual escapades that had come to a halt.

“N-nothing, never mind.” He shakes his head as he tries to dismiss whatever he was talking about. You didn’t have the chance to interrogate him further, his hips resuming their actions.

However, he only got about five more pumps in before you finally heard it.

You were mortified, a soft gasp leaving your lips as you stare at him with wide eyes. He met your gaze, his eyes equally as big as his actions halted once more.

“Did you just far-No!” You quickly cut him off, your cheeks hot and your heart beating fast.

“It’s ok if you did…I mean, it doesn’t smell - Plus, I know you had dairy, and you’re lactose intolerant, so it makes sense.”

You could not believe the words coming out of his mouth, you couldn’t believe this is happening to you out of all people.

“Matt, I didn’t -'' you wave your hands around, hoping he would get the gist of what you were saying.

You didn’t know why you hated the word fart, maybe it was because your parents raised you to say ‘passed gas’, and the word fart was too cringy for you.

“You didn’t? Then what the hell was that?”

“I-I think I queefed I-I don’t know!" Matt could tell you were flustered, your tone becoming defensive. “Ok, ok! Just calm down!” He lowers your legs and rubs at your thighs for comfort, attempting to calm you down as he remains inside you.

After a few minutes of silence, he speaks up. “D-did you want me to keep going or…?” He trails off, unsure of what you want.

To be honest, the mood for both of you was somewhat ruined. He wouldn't be shocked if you told him to stop. Hell, he was sure you probably would hold off on having sex for a while after this as well.

Much to his surprise, you nodded.

“Y-yeah, yeah you can keep going.” You try to push the awkward tension away, hoping, praying, begging that you wouldn’t queef again.

He nods and begins to thrust softly once more. You were tense, anxious your body would do it again, but it didn’t. You allow yourself to relax, to feel the pleasure once more.

Matt sees this and picks up the pace, drawing out soft moans and mewls from you. Despite your orgasm dwindling from the first two times he had stopped his ministrations, it was quickly rebuilding itself.

Matt could tell, and he was determined to push you over the edge.

He grabs your leg and throws it over his shoulder, planting his hands on both sides of your head as he drives his cock deeper into your aching cunt. The sexual energy in the room was potent, the previous moment long forgotten as you both explored each other's bodies.

"Oh fuck m'close. Come on ba-"

It happened....Again.

“Ok ok stop!” You basically yell out. He stumbles back as you push him, his cock slipping out of you with a small pop, followed by even more air being released.

It sounded like a deflating balloon, almost like Donald Duck was in the room himself.

You were on the verge of tears, this was too embarrassing. It didn't help that Matt was smirking, biting his lip as he held back laughter.

"D-don't you dare say anything!" Matt raises his hands in surrender, backing up even more and moving to the other side of the room. You sigh and sit up slowly, hoping you wouldn't release anymore more air from your vaginal canal.

It didn't work.

You could feel the air passing through your folds, creating that wet farting noise - thanks to the bodily fluids you secreted- and making your folds ripple softly.

A soft snicker is heard, making your head dart to Matt. "Shut up! Don't laugh, it's not funny!" You shout as you throw a pillow at him. He cackles loudly, dodging the pillow at the same time.

"I'm sorry but it's funny! She's speaking to me!"

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, "Mmcht, you're such a fucking boy." You mumble. You want to stand up and rush to the bathroom, but you didn't know if you could handle Matt's laughter at your excessive queefing.

"Get out."

"What? Baby come on, I'm sorry for laughing!"

"No, you're not. Now shut up and get out so I can go to the bathroom!" He holds back another round of laughter and slips on his boxers and sweatpants, quickly leaving the room and leaving you alone.

You waddle awkwardly to the bathroom, cringing every time another gush of air escapes you. As you stand in the bathroom, you quickly search up "How to get rid of queefs."

All you could find were multiple sources telling you there wasn't a way.

"Absolutely not, fuck this."

You try another search, " How to get rid of air down there."

Thankfully, you found an answer.

"Squatting down, especially while peeing, can help trapped air escape."

"This is great, but how the hell do you squat over a toilet without getting pee everywhere?" You mumble to yourself. You won't even deny it, your eyes dart over to the tub but you quickly dismiss that thought.

No way were you going to pop a squat and pee in your boyfriend's tub. You wouldn't hear the end of it.

You end up sitting backward on the toilet, your chest facing the lid as you do your best to squat.

Sure enough, you could feel the excess air release, echoing in the bathroom.

You finish up quickly, making sure to wipe and wash your hands before exiting the bathroom. As you walk out of the bathroom, you see Matt back in the room, sitting on his bed.

"Did you get that.... situated?" You roll your eyes and throw on your pajamas, laying back down on the bed. "You shut your damn mouth...And yes." He snickers softly and begins to situate himself between your legs, just as he always does.

The both of you sit in silence before he looks down at your clothed mound.

"So since you can speak, how do you fee-OW!" He winces as your hand comes down on the back of his head. He watches as you climb off the bed.

"Wait, where are you going?!"

"To Nick's room! At least he won't try to talk to my vagina as if it could talk back!"

He watches as you walk out the room, slamming the door in the process. He lays back down and chuckles to himself,

"I'm definitely changing her name in my phone to queef queen...maybe donald duck."

purrrrr im making this an awkward series! send in stuff that you would want to see!!!

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #smut #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt girl #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo imagine #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo x you

186 notes · View notes

kiwriteswords · 2 days ago

Note

Hii I love your writing!! I just wanted to ask if you could write a little Hotch x BAU!reader oneshot where the reader is on her period and Hotch takes care of her!! I need that right now

A Quiet Kind of Care

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: I could have used an Aaron Hotchner last week when this was me! Thanks so much for sending this one in, Anon. It was a fun one to write on my day off today!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: >1k

Tags/Warnings: Secret Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Tender Moments, Reader who gets a period, Soft!Hotch

Sypnosis: After a long, grueling day on a case, you push through your discomfort to keep up with the team, all while secretly dating Aaron Hotchner. When you finally retreat to the privacy of your hotel room, Hotch’s quiet attentiveness and subtle gestures of care remind you just how much he understands your needs, offering a moment of solace and connection away from prying eyes.

Aaron's keen observation skills were not just a professional asset but a personal one, too. His years of marriage to Haley had honed his awareness of the women in his life, including you. He could discern the subtle signs of discomfort and weariness that often remained unspoken, understanding that even the strongest women needed a little extra care at times.

He’d caught on gradually—the way you’d press a hand to your lower back or shift uncomfortably in your chair during long briefings, the slight furrow in your brow that signaled more than just stress. There were times he noticed you reach instinctively toward your abdomen, only to lower your hand quickly, as if not wanting anyone to see. He saw these little signs, things the rest of the team might overlook but which he couldn’t ignore.

As he watched you navigate the case with more determination than usual, Aaron didn’t need to ask what was wrong. Instead, he offered a steadfast presence, quietly supporting you in small ways throughout the day—taking on more physical tasks, and giving you brief respites, all while keeping a watchful eye on you.

When the day finally wrapped, he made his way to your room, ready to be there for you in the way he knew you’d never ask but that he was more than willing to offer. One of the things he loved most about you was your strength and resilience. And yet, as much as he admired it, he wanted you to know that you didn’t always have to be strong with him.

The hotel hallway was quiet; the sounds of the bustling day long faded into stillness. It had been a grueling day on the case, with too many close calls and endless hours spent in the field. You were exhausted, your entire body aching, and the discomfort of your period only worsened your fatigue. Despite the pain, you’d managed to keep it all under wraps, not wanting the team to notice or, worse, worry. But Aaron—Aaron always knew.

As you leaned against the doorframe, waiting for Aaron, a wave of relief washed over you at the thought of being alone with him. The quiet knock on the door signaled his arrival, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of calm and anticipation.

A quiet knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts. You opened it to find Aaron standing there, his gaze gentle, softened with concern.

“Come in,” you whispered, letting him in quickly and quietly.

Once inside, he closed the door softly, turning back to you with a small, knowing smile that held all the warmth and reassurance you needed. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a gentle, steady embrace. His hand settled at the middle of your back, his fingers spreading wide, grounding you as he held you close.

Slowly, he began to run his hand up and down your spine, a soothing rhythm that seemed to melt away the tension you’d been carrying all day. His other arm tightened around your shoulders, drawing you even closer as if shielding you from the day’s lingering stress. You rested your cheek against his chest, listening to his heart's steady, calming beat, letting it lull you into a place of warmth and safety. His chin came to rest lightly atop your head, and he exhaled as if he, too, had needed this moment just as much.

You felt the day's weight slip away in his arms, replaced by a quiet sense of peace that only Aaron could give. For a moment, it was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, the world outside the door forgotten.

“You’ve been pushing yourself all day,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with concern. “You could’ve let me help sooner, you know.”

You sighed, leaning into his shoulder with a small smile. “It’s just part of the job. Nothing I can’t handle.”

He looked at you, the hint of a smile on his lips. “You don’t have to hide with me. Here—sit down.”

Aaron guided you over to the bed, settling you comfortably. He’d brought a small bag with him, and you watched as he pulled out a few items: a water bottle, some painkillers, and a small heating pad. You raised an eyebrow in surprise, touched by the thoughtfulness.

“When did you even get those?” you asked softly, feeling a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the heating pad.

He chuckled, settling beside you, reaching to plug the heating pad into the outlet beside the bed.

“I have my ways.” He placed the heating pad gently against your stomach, and the warmth was an immediate relief, easing the cramps that had been gnawing at you all day. “You don’t think I’d let you suffer alone, do you?”

You leaned more fully against his shoulder, feeling the tension start to slip away as he wrapped an arm around you. His hand slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, fingertips tracing gentle, soothing lines across your stomach, each movement easing the ache a little more. He stayed quiet, his steady breathing a calming rhythm, grounding you as you let yourself relax into him.

“You know,” he whispered after a while, “it wouldn’t hurt to tell me these things sooner. You don’t have to act tough with me.”

You looked up at him, catching the glint of tenderness in his eyes. “I didn’t want to be a bother.”

He gently kissed your forehead, his lips warm and soft. “You could never be a bother.”

You stayed wrapped in his arms, the silence between you filled with the quiet understanding that was so uniquely yours. Moments like this, hidden from the rest of the world, were precious—just you and Aaron, no titles, no cases, just two people caring for each other in the simplest, truest way.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotch hotchner #hotch x you #hotch x reader #hotch x fem reader #hotch x y/n #female reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine

171 notes · View notes

runariya · 6 hours ago

Text

Beyond Probability JJK (m.)

summary: Matching with an idol? Unlikely. But with a 99% compatibility? Beyond probability. pairing: idol!Jungkook x f!reader genre: idolvers, S2L, fluff, smut rating: 18+, MDNI! warnings: fluff, fluff, a bit of self doubt, fluff, fluff, explicit sexual content, shower sex, unprotected sex, pls lmk if I forgot smth word count: ~ 4k

a/n: It’s a rly cute and short oneshot, light and mainly fluff, nothing too deep, no big words etc this time. Just had to get it out of my system since the idea’s been on my mind for months now (unedited bc I fell ill halfway through writing it 🤒)

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

Your biological clock’s ticking—has been for some years now—and even though you’re only now nearing 30, you’re painfully aware that the life you pictured as a kid might never come true.

It’s not like you��re unstable in who you are or what you’re doing. You’re fairly successful at your job, you’ve got your own place, and you’re more social than most people these days. Still, you’re only what most would call average-looking, and even though you’ve got a good career, you’re too soft to keep it up forever. You picture yourself more as a loving wife and mother than a corporate boss bitch climbing the ladder of success.

That’s also why your dating life has been rocky all along. Men see what you put out there, but they don’t like who you really are or what you want from life, which has left you single for most of it.

So, when a new project starts—after the K-pop industry finally acknowledges that idols need partnerships and a life of their own, and fans finally understand that these people are human too, that they deserve to experience love and happiness like everyone else—you decide to take your chances too.

Funnily enough, all the labels have teamed up, hiring not only the best scientists and psychologists from Korea but from around the world to create a program that can find ideal matches for their idols. Sure, science shouldn’t determine who you fall in love with, but… what if it could?

After being pre-selected—just to confirm you’re not some crazed fan—you’ve spent over two weeks going through tests. Recorded interviews, personality assessments, even physical evaluations… now you’re staring at your company’s computer screen, listening to Dr. Song explain the results through the phone.

“Ninety-nine percent?”

“Yes. The chances of such a high compatibility score are next to impossible. We see it as a perfect match and would like to introduce you to your match.”

“Sure, of course.” Even though your voice is steady, you can feel your nerves flaring up like never before.

“Is tomorrow at 8 p.m. alright for you?”

“Yes, that works for me.”

“Perfect, we’ll see you then.”

Well, joke’s on you, you didn’t expect this outcome.

Meeting an idol feels surreal, and the closer you get to 8 p.m. the next day, the more you can feel the anxiety and doubts inside you rising. Every last detail in Dr. Song’s calm, clinical rundown replays in your mind, the ninety-nine percent match, the endless rounds of testing, the surreal realisation that, somehow, all those numbers and algorithms miraculously spat out a name next to yours.

You want to trust that there’s a reason for this, that somehow science isn’t just working with chance, but the tension of actually meeting someone this special is so overwhelming you barely notice yourself entering the lab building until you’re standing outside Dr. Song’s office.

“Right on time,” she chirps, giving you an approving nod. She seems to sense your nerves, and as she leads you down a hallway you’ve never been before, she gives you a reassuring smile. “I know this is all a lot. But he’s likely feeling the same way. The tests told us that he’s, well, quite like you.”

Her words would make you laugh in any other situation, though disbelief and a strange kind of comfort floods through you still. Like you. An idol, standing here in a lab somewhere to meet some random stranger, feeling just as out of place as you. You’re not sure of that but still like to think it must be true.

You don’t have time to process it fully before you’re led into a quiet room with yellowish walls so plain they almost blur in the corners of your vision, a low, comfortable couch and a couple of chairs standing there and none of the lab equipment that surrounded you in the testing rooms all those weeks ago.

And then you spot him, sitting on the couch, alone. He stands the second you walk in, hands half in his pockets, a slight, almost unsure smile grazing his lips as he glances down at you. He’s got that casual look about him, the same dark eyes you’ve seen a hundred times on a screen that somehow feel warmer and more human here.

He looks not quite better than he does on screen, but not worse either. Somehow, he’s realer, if that’s a word—close enough that you can see the little flecks of colour in his irises, the slight tension in his posture, the faintest trace of nerves hiding under his composure.

“Hi.” Jungkook’s voice is lower, softer than you expect from an idol. “Nice to meet you, I’m Jungkook.”

“Nice to meet you too. I’m ___.” There’s a pause, and you can tell he’s just as unsure what to do with the space between you two as you are. The click of the door makes you turn around briefly, only to realise Dr. Song has left you both alone. “This is, um, weird, right?”

He nods, a quick, breathy laugh breaking through. “Very. I mean, this isn’t exactly a ‘normal’ kind of meeting, right?”

His words are awkward but disarming, and suddenly, you’re aware of all the tiny, meticulous details of him that somehow make him feel more relatable than his polished, on-screen persona. The way his hand keeps moving to rub against his thigh or abs, his tongue playing with his lips and piercing ever so slightly—everything about him is familiar but also somehow close enough to feel completely new.

“I don’t think I was ready for this,” you admit. You aren’t really talking to him but more like letting your own thoughts slip out in the safest way possible, like saying it makes it feel less absurd.

“Honestly, same.” He laughs, and you think there’s a light flutter in your chest now. “I kept thinking about this whole ninety-nine percent thing. Like… how does that even work? Isn’t it supposed to feel, I don’t know, obvious? Like you know the moment you see someone?”

You nod, understanding exactly what he means, and somehow you move on autopilot, walking towards him and sitting down on that couch with him beside you. It feels like you should both somehow know, like there’s a sign or an instant connection, something that would make all of this feel simple, easy. But it’s just the two of you in a quiet room, barely knowing each other, held together by nothing but a number on a report.

“Yeah, that’s so wild. I didn’t think I’d have a match, this close to a hundred even less. Might be a glitch if our score is this high.”

Jungkook nods with sparkling eyes, seemingly relieved by your honesty and humour. “Yeah, I get that. I kept thinking about it too. Wondering if maybe the tests were wrong, or maybe I was just…thinking too much.” He lets out a sigh, his gaze meeting yours for a long, meaningful second. “But I think maybe this is about finding out, right? Not having it all make sense right away.”

“Hm, makes sense.” You giggle, because what else can you do in the presence of him.

The two of you sit there in a momentary silence, as if testing each other, feeling out the small boundaries that keep you both distant.

“So, what did the report tell you about me?” You ask the question half-jokingly, trying to break the quiet, but also curious. You want to know what he knows, how much of this supposed ninety-nine percent compatibility is actually something that either of you feel.

He lets out a silent breath, looking down as if slightly embarrassed. “Honestly, not as much as you’d think. They told me you were kind of… soft-spoken but resilient? And that you have a job that’s, uh, stable and…” He trails off, the tips of his ears slightly pink, like he’s embarrassed to keep going.

“And?” You can’t help but push further—not maliciously, just way too curious and playful for your own good. Jungkook’s expression shifts from embarrassed to surprised, and then to a look that’s just as playful.

“And that we’re, apparently, very much sexually compatible.”

Really, you should be the one feeling embarrassed or shy now, but you can’t help the laugh that slips out. You know exactly what he’s hinting at—your report clearly showed the same.

“Well, it might be not wrong. And they told me…” You pause, realising that you barely remember the details in the face of the reality in front of you but alas. “They said you’d be a good match because, I think, there was something about humour?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Humour? Never heard of it.” And it makes you laugh all over again. “I feel like they just told us things we’d want to hear, to make it seem easier and normal.”

His words hit close to home, but they’re strangely comforting in the way he says them. You reckon, he’s just as bewildered by this as you are, maybe even more so. And somehow, in the middle of all the awkwardness, you find yourself genuinely smiling at him, naturally gravitating towards him, finding that there’s a softness and reassurance in his gaze, a gentleness that cuts through your nerves like a knife through melted butter in the sun.

You start talking more freely after that, exchanging stories that are too mundane to make sense in any real context but feel right here. You tell him about your last trip to the beach, how you got sunburned and spent the whole evening sitting on your balcony, nursing it with iced water and aloe, wishing for a helping hand that you didn’t have. He laughs, nodding along as if he can picture it exactly and tells you about how he tried to make pasta he ate in Italy for the first time a few months back and ended up burning the whole batch, because no one was by his side, so badly his kitchen smelled like smoke for days.

The more you talk, the more you notice the little things about him that aren’t so polished, aren’t so perfect, and make him feel more human and real than anyone you ever met. He has a way of listening, eyes intent on yours, like he’s trying to pick apart every word to understand it better. When he laughs, it’s with his whole face, even body, not the careful, composed look of an idol but a natural, carefree laugh that makes you feel like maybe he’s as relieved as you are to be here, to have someone he doesn’t have to impress.

At some point, you both lapse into a comfortable silence, each lost in your own thoughts but somehow still connected. The tension from earlier has faded away, replaced by a soothing aura you know you don’t want to miss for a day in your life.

Eventually, Jungkook glances over at you, his eyes sucking you in without much resistance. “I kept thinking this would feel forced, you know? Like we’d be sitting here, struggling to find anything in common.” He leans back, drapes his arm around the back of where you’re sitting, glancing up at the ceiling as if searching for the right words. “But… it doesn’t feel that way. You feel… I don’t know, right?”

The slight flutter in your chest has now swelled into a full-blown hurricane, and you’re not sure if it’s that ninety-nine percent compatibility causing it. But you don’t let yourself think too much—not when you’ve both been inching closer with each word, not when you take a chance and lean in, resting your head against his side. Especially not when his arm settles directly over your shoulder, pulling you a little closer, his other hand finding yours, fingers intertwining just to see how it feels.

“Yeah, it feels right. I really like this.”

As you absently play with his fingers, breathing in his scent for the first time and deciding it’s like heaven, you let yourself trust science. Because this feels like exactly where you’re meant to be.

While the first meeting with Jungkook went better than you’d ever hoped, you’re painfully aware of your overthinking nature. Overthinking in a way that makes it painfully clear there are countless women out there who, on the surface, would seem a better visual match for him than you.

Overthinking to the point where you wonder why Jungkook would even need matchmaking when he could so easily choose a partner on his own. It’s also why staying focused at work isn’t exactly easy today, knowing that soon his label will be sending a car to pick you up for your next meeting with him.

You understand the precautions they’ve taken and completely agree it’s better to meet in a private, safe space rather than making headlines this early on. That’s why, as the tinted car arrives, you feel a bit more at ease than you have all day.

Soon enough, you’re driving down the path to the label’s underground garage, and while you fix your makeup real quick, the car comes to a stop. The driver nods and guides you towards the lift, where the lights are dim and everything has this quiet, professional atmosphere you’ve only seen on screen.

You try to take it all in, letting your thoughts settle just a bit more as you follow through to the hallways upstairs, past doors labelled with room numbers and studios, and then finally, you’re outside the door to Jungkook’s studio, right where you’re supposed to meet.

Your heart beats a little faster as you hear Jungkook’s familiar voice call out, “Come in,” and when you open the door, you find him leaning casually against the chair before his equipment with an easy smile that somehow manages to be both happy and slightly flirty.

Again, Jungkook’s dressed just like uniquely him, with a few silver rings glinting on his fingers. And while you didn’t think he’d even get up to greet you, he steps forward and embraces you in hug so tight, it leaves you drowning in him.

“Hey,” he greets with that disarming grin, eyes boring into you, taking in your formal work attire, as he gestures to the coffee set up besides his laptop. “Hope you don’t mind the casual vibe.”

You laugh a little, settling onto the free chair beside him, feeling a bit strange but somehow not. “I think it’s perfect. And to be honest, I don’t think I’d cope well with the whole five-star dining treatment and whatnot.”

He laughs, nodding in agreement, taking your purse from your hands and draping it casually over the back of his chair. The fact that he’s still so attentive, even though he’s clearly in his element here but completely relaxed, is rather fascinating and pulls you in even more.

Like the day before, talking with him comes easy, and while there’s nothing groundbreaking in your conversations, every word feels meaningful in the bigger picture.

Eventually, you feel yourself relaxing like you were at home by your own, getting comfortable enough to let out the thoughts that have been swimming in your head since last night. “I’ve thought a lot about how all of this could play out,” you admit, taking a sip of your coffee, trying to find the right words, though knowing there won’t be any wrong words when talking with Jungkook. “And honestly, I’m not really interested in taking things public if they did work out. I know that’s probably strange to say, but I’m not cut out for the spotlight.”

He tilts his head, watching you thoughtfully. “No, it’s not strange at all. I get it.”

A small smile tugs at your lips as you go on, “I just want something real. A partner who’s loyal, someone who’s there because we get each other, not because we’re some public ‘it’ couple, parading around every chance we get. Does that sound crazy?”

He shakes his head, while he swings from one side to the other. “Not at all. That actually sounds perfect to me.” There’s a sincerity in his tone that makes you feel, for the first time, like there’s some truth to your report. “The whole ‘idol’ thing is just a job. It’s not who I am, not at the core. And having someone who sees it that way, is what I want too.”

It elates you to know that you could have something like this, with him, someone you could genuinely share your life with.

Then, in a thoughtful voice, he asks, “What do you want for the future? I mean, outside all of this.”

You take a breath, feeling a little nervous but wanting to be honest. It’s not like it’s news to him, seeing that this information’s written in the report he was handed. “I want something traditional. A home, a family, maybe staying home with kids, having that steady, grounded life. It sounds simple, I know, but it’s what I’ve always pictured.” You look up at him, expecting maybe a hint of judgement, but instead, you find him nodding, his eyes lighting up like a candle in the night.

“I don’t think that sounds simple at all, but meaningful.”

A shy smile forms on your lips as you add, “Sometimes I feel like people don’t see that side of things anymore, you know? Like everyone’s so focused on careers and success and everything else… and I get that, I do, but I’ve always just wanted something steady. Something I can hold on to.”

His hand finds yours, his fingers like second nature intertwine with yours, and the gesture is so simple yet so heartwarming that you feel like squealing out of happiness. “That’s exactly what I want too.” It’s nothing new to you too, but him saying that, seeing the honesty in his eyes, is better than any data shown to you. “I want that sense of home.”

You feel yourself falling a little harder, a little faster, and maybe that scares you a bit. You’ve seen the kind of attention he gets, the kind of girls that throw themselves at him, and it’s hard not to let those doubts creep in. Especially now. “I know this probably sounds insecure,” you start awkwardly, glancing away, “I think, I don’t know, maybe I’m not the kind of person someone like you would go for. I mean, you could have anyone, and not just because you’re an idol.”

He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb tracing soothing circles against your skin. And while his mouth opens to say something, the pull against your hand surprises you as much as him settling you in his lab. “Hey, don’t think like that. I’m here because I want to be. And trust me, I’m not looking for ‘anyone’. I’m looking for someone who gets me. And that someone is you, no?”

The look in his eyes is so genuine, so unguarded, that it’s hard to keep your heart from doing all sorts of stunts. He’s not the polished idol right now; he’s just Jungkook, being flirty, being compassionate, being so him, sitting in a cosy studio with his tattoos, his piercings, his moles, his beautiful smile, his whole presence more comfortable and inviting than you could have imagined.

And as he sits there, looking at you like you’re the only person in the world, you realise that you definitely don’t have to doubt this. Maybe it’s okay to let yourself believe that he’s here because he wants to be, that he’s falling for you irrevocably just as you’re falling for him.

“Sooo… that means?” You know you need to be brave now, because if this isn’t a dream, you’d never forgive yourself for not taking the leap.

“That means, if you want to, I’d love to have you as my girlfriend.”

“Isn’t it a bit rushed?” You don’t actually think so, but you still need to be sure.

“I’m all in if you are. I don’t want to waste any more time, and even though it’s just a report, I can feel there’s real truth behind it.”

Fast forward seven months, and you find yourself pressed against the shower wall like you do every night. But this time, it’s different—just hours ago, you made your first public appearance on a music show with Jungkook, just because you both felt ready, where he was not only nominated for Best Singer of the Year but won as well.

“Koo, right there, right there.”

It still amazes you how his cock seems to find your g-spot as soon as he enters you, though you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Yeah? Right there, hm? Or is it…” he trails off, shifting his hips ever so slightly, making you realise he’s actually hit the centre point of your g-spot now, his hard, unrelenting thrusts pushing you over the edge without warning.

“Oh my goooddd,” your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open against the cool shower wall, as your cunt keeps gripping him even though it’s already creaming around his cock.

“Good girl, keep going, love. Show me how many you can take tonight.”

There’s nothing you can do, not that you’d want to do anything other than let him rearrange your insides. Especially not when his tattooed hand finds its way from the back of your hair to your jaw, tilting your head to the side, giving you the perfect view of his upper body—rivulets of water cascading down his chiselled form, lips parted, eyebrows furrowed.

He’s the epitome of perfection. Not just a ninety-nine percent but a hundred.

His eyes, though hooded, bore into your soul as his hips pick up the pace. It’s this connection you share with him make being with him feel so special.

“Koo…”

“I know, love, just a bit more. Can you be a good girl?”

“Yes,” you moan, because hell, you can. “Yes, for you…ah, winning the trophy.”

Even though you shouldn’t feel his cock twitch with the pace he’s set, you do, realising instantly what he needs tonight.

“Best singer, Koo…fuck…best boyfriend, only fucking me when, hmm, the whole world wants a piece of you.”

“Only you. Always you, ___, love.” You think you catch him licking a drop of saliva from his lips as he stares down at where your bodies connect, sending another wave of arousal from your stretched-out hole.

“You’re so big.”

“Just for you, fuck, squeeze a bit more.”

It’s not that you did it on purpose, but when his hand shoots down to your clit, circling it just right, your body responds as though it’s never felt this good, soaking him even more and gripping him tight as a vice.

“Like that, love, like that.” Jungkook grunts and pants, holding you harder, tighter as his cock seems to swell even more, pumping frantically in sync with your impending second orgasm.

When Jungkook can’t hold back any longer, it’s all you need to let go too, the rush flowing through your veins just as fiercely as the love you feel for this man.

After some time, Jungkook pulls out, helping you straighten up and lean against his chest under the stream. His veiny hands trail down your body, washing away his release dripping out of you, as he plants kisses along the side of your face.

When he’s had enough, he, like always, turns you, brushing the wet strands of hair from your face. And as you do the same to him, captivated by how content and in love he looks, you can’t help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world when, for the first time, Jungkook declares his feelings.

“I love you, till the day I die, ___.”

“I love you too, and beyond.”

Because this, because having Jungkook calling you his, is beyond probability.

a/n 3: lmk what you think in any way you like! 👀 If you liked what you read, pls consider buying me a ☕️ Ko-fi.com/runariya 💕

Like what you read? Check out my other work here!

permanent taglist: @runariyaluvr , @kookiewithluv , @closer-to-jungkook , @dreamcatcherluvr , @blueofocean, @https-mei, @xsyruhh , @nemelkawar , @joonlover1207 , @elinaki92

#fic: beyond probability #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts army #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook imagine #jjk x reader #jungkook #idolverse #Jungkook idolverse #Jungkook smut #bts smut #Jungkook fluff #bts fluff

127 notes · View notes

sweetshuga · 23 hours ago

Text

Heather ✰ MS

───~𓆩♡𓆪~───

bsf!matt! Will you let him comfort you?

wc. 775

note. English is not my first language! Part 1 3 Bonus

Your heart ached painfully as more tears fell down your face, but what could he possibly do when you’ve locked yourself in the bathroom and refused to open it—

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a key twisting in the bathroom door lock.

You gasped out loud when the door opened, revealing Matt, his expression unreadable as he took in your surprised expression and red eyes. He suddenly took a step closer, opening the door wider, and you looked up at him, not knowing if you should keep sitting or get up.

"Hey... are you alright?" He crouched down, kneeling in front of you. You sighed softly and hugged your knees a tad bit tighter, "I’m fine, just... I don’t know why I cried like that," you lied through your teeth, you knew exactly why you cried.

He could sense your lie and a heavy sigh left his lips. Thinking that he was getting mad at you, you looked down at your knees, tears burning your eyes once again. He noticed the droplets of tears splattering on your bare knees and his expression softened.

"Look at me, pretty," he whispered, gently tilting your chin. You reluctantly looked up, your eyes glassy with unshed tears, and fresh streaks of tears coating the dried ones on your cheeks. He would be lying if he said that the sight didn’t break his heart.

Matt’s touch was gentle as he coaxed you into a hug. The feeling of his arms wrapping around you comfortingly bordered on too much in your distressed state. You couldn’t help the soft sobs from escaping through your lips, coming out more choked and muffled as he hugged you tighter, letting you cry in his chest.

𓆩♡𓆪

After a few good minutes of crying, you finally calmed down, sniffling as you stayed still in his embrace. He pulled away slightly, wiping the few tears that escaped your eyes, "feel better?" You nodded, sighing as you wiped the rest of your tears from your face with your hoodie cuffs.

You felt a rush of embarrassment as the reality of the situation sank in. You had just cried like a baby in front of the guy you liked and he went out of his way to comfort you. You cleared your throat as you slowly stood up and Matt followed your movement, standing up beside you.

He reached for you arm, but hesitated, letting it still in the air before slowly dropping his hand, looking away. You were too in your own thoughts to notice the conflicted expression on his face, the inner turmoil he dealt with.

"Say..." You snapped out of your thoughts when he spoke, looking at him with confusion, only now noticing his expression. "Why did you cry?" You blinked, trying to come up with an excuse and just as you were opening your mouth – about to make a lame excuse – he spoke again.

"Was it because I was talking about, you know... her? " You froze, unable to deny it or admit to it. "I might be way off with this, but it’s been bothering me for a while," you could feel your heart sinking, the anticipation of what he was gonna say next making you sick.

He looked almost sheepish as he continued, "do you perhaps... like me?" You could hear the slight edge in his tone and it made you feel nervous, to say the least. What if he reacts badly if you admit to it?

"You don’t, right? I mean, we’re friends and you know I see you as basically my younger sister, right?" His words cut deep, deeper than they should've and all you could do was smile slightly and nod.

"You’re far off from my type, has anyone told you that you can be a bit of a narcissist?" You joked, trying to lighten up the mood, "also, for your information, I like blondies with brown eyes," you lied, nudging him slightly.

Matt couldn’t help a chuckle as he shook his head, "alright, alright, you don’t have to bruise my ego like that," he bantered back, noticing your attempt to lighten the mood.

Chris groggily stumbled out of his room and halted in his step when he saw you two standing in the bathroom doorway, "can you guys like not stand there? I have to piss really badly." You laughed and exited the bathroom, eliciting a small glare from Chris before he walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind himself.

𓆩♡𓆪

The rest of the day went on as planned, but the rejection hung heavily in your heart. The storming emotions swirling inside you matching the thunderstorm outside.

𓆩♡𓆪

isa's notes. I feel like I time skip a lot 💤

Masterlist 𓆩♡𓆪 Taglist

Taglist: @strnilolover @mattsfavoritestar @sophand4n4 @tpwktahlz @lilyyliloo @slut4angstt @pvssychicken @poolover123 @loud-sturniolos @inlovewchrissturniolo @queenshet @chrisstopherfilmed @billiesbabya @h3arts4nat @moosegirl96 @sofiaaguilaxx @sturniolo-fann @goingtojohnkramershouse @sturniolosluttt @chrislilcumslvt @mattsninja @bilssturns @sturnioloszn @slvtf0rchr1s

Special taglist: @mattsredgaphoodie @blahblahblahm @sturniolosobsessed @emmaweasley @brookheartsmatt @lvrsturniolo

84 notes · View notes

revelboo · 2 days ago

Note

not a request but just wanted to let you know that bc of you I got into blokees and now I’m obsessed with them. Already got three on the way and they look so cute and the bigger figures look amazing!!! Got tfone sentinel, Optimus and Megatron but I’m eyeing g1 prowl and ratchet 👀 literally cant wait until they release one Starscream gods what have you done to me

All part of my evil master plan- get you guys to buy them so the company has to release more, new figures.

Inside Out Pt 3

TFO Starscream x Reader

• Why does it twist like a blade through his spark when you cringe away from him, a wrongness that chafes at him. Makes him want to reach out to you, soothe away the fear that he caused. It’s irrational, insane. Wings flicking up aggressively, he draws back anyway. Giving you space not so you’ll calm down, but because he wants to. Because whatever this is can’t control him, he won’t let it. He doesn’t want this, but can’t deny the urge to reach out even as he curls his servos under into fists so he won’t. “Just let me go,” you whisper, eyes shiny. “Please.” That broken plea hurts him, but also steels his resolve.

• Jaw working as he looms over you, those wings on his back fidget in little flicks. “Why would I do that?” He growls, an arm lifting, servos reaching to send your heart racing in panic. But stopping short of touching you with those servos curled almost around you, almost caging you, and to your horror there’s the urge to close that distance. Put yourself willingly in his hand. You don’t dare move, holding your breath. “You’re mine for as long as I decide to keep you.” Those words are soft, almost deceptively tender as a single servo reaches and touches your chest, slides along your throat to tip your chin up forcing you to meet his optics. Hating that his touch settles something inside you, that you want to lean into that touch as those optics narrow at you. Hating yourself and him for doing this to you.

• His words are possessive, a claim that rings in his spark. While he may not understand what this strange sense of connection is, that sense of belonging and familiarity that comes from touching you is almost intoxicating. Singing through his spark that everything will be fine, that all’s well. And your eyes are shiny, head turning away and almost against his will he reaches to stroke the tip of a servo over your cheek to wipe the tears away when they fall and he knows he’s in trouble. Feeling your little hand on him, trying to push him away, then just hanging on to his servo like you’re as helpless as he is, pressing your face against him as his spark constricts. “I don’t want this,” you whisper. Neither does he, but there’s no letting you go. He can’t lose this sense of belonging. Needs this, because it’s been so long since there’s been any sense of home. Since Cybertron was lost.

• Big servos curl around you, lifting you. There’s no fighting his grip as he lifts you and cradles you against him, his warmth and that connection spilling through you, overwhelming as you relax against your will. Feeling safe, even though you know you’re not. Just wanting to cling to him, to the trap of safety and belonging even knowing it’s a lie. “Hate me all you like, little one,” he says, rasping voice rumbling through you as a servo slides against your spine. “Despise me and rage, but you’re mine to keep.”

#transformers x reader #starscream x reader #tfo starscream #transformers one

117 notes · View notes

just-dreaming-marvel · 2 days ago

Text

Love That Burns ~ 31

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,250ish

Summary: You and Logan continue to mend your relationship.

Warnings: mentions of sex, anxiety, panic attacks

Notes: I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! I enjoyed writing it! This is also the start of The Wolverine (2013) movie!

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

You were awake before Logan, allowing you to stare at his beautiful body. The two of you had had a wonderful week, just focusing on the two of you. You only left the house to go into town and get supplies. It was nice in town. No one knew who you were, as it had been a long time. Logan didn’t hate going to town either. He constantly had an arm around you or his hand in yours. And if someone looked at you a way he didn’t like, he made sure they knew you belonged to him by pulling you in for a kiss.

Logan started work today. You didn’t want him to work, finding out that Charles had set you both up with a nice chunk of money. But Logan insisted that it would allow him to get his needed anger out on the trees and that the two of you would do better if you weren’t around each other constantly. You hated to admit that he had a point.

“Stop starin’,” Logan muttered, slowly waking up.

“Can’t help it,” you smirked, kissing his shoulder.

“Yeah, well,” he opened his eyes and turned to face you. “Two can play at this game.”

You laughed. “It’s not a game, Logan.”

“It could be.” He pulled you into him, kissing your forehead. “I need to get up.”

“No… stay.”

He chuckled. “We’ve talked about this, sweetheart. I’m only working part-time, a few hours five days a week.”

“Still… I…”

“I know you’re nervous. I am, too… the last time we had a morning like this, in this house—“

“Victor basically killed me.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not gonna happen. I promise.” He kissed your lips softly, like he could seal the promise. “We have a plan. You’re not leaving the house. You’ll call me if anything goes wrong.”

“Okay.”

“Hey.” Logan could tell that you were growing nervous. “It’s alright. I won’t be long.”

“Mhm,” you nodded.

“Come on,” He flipped the covers off of the two of you and pulled you off of the bed with him. “Help me get ready.”

~~~

“Before you go, I need you to take these,” you said, pulling the dog tags from around your neck and placing them around his. “I’ll keep yours still, but I need others to understand that you’re mine.”

“Marking your territory?” He smirked.

“Something like that.” You pulled him in for a kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Logan kissed you again before driving off. You stood at the door, watching as he disappeared down the mountain. Taking a few deep breaths, you tried to calm the anxiousness that began to build inside of you.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you whispered to yourself.

You slipped back into the house and tried to busy yourself with unpacking more. With each minute that passed, you grew shakier, and your skin grew hotter. You had to stop touching anything due to the fact that you had started setting everything on fire. Eventually, you ended up standing in the middle of the house, staring at the phone on the counter. You knew that you could call Logan, and he would drop everything to come running, but you didn’t want to ruin his first day. A few tears sizzled down your cheeks as you came to the conclusion to just handle it yourself. You’d be fine. This was just a one-time thing, right?

~~~

Logan actually enjoyed his first day of work. It was nice to feel normal once again, and chopping wood allowed him to clear his mind. Logan did feel bad for leaving you, though, so he swung by a flower shop in town before heading home. He was excited to get home to you and spend the rest of the day holding you. As soon as he entered the house, Logan could sense that something was off.

“Y/N?” He called, taking off his boots and jacket. “Sweetheart?’

“In here!” You called.

He followed your voice and found you curled up in the corner of the couch,, book in your lap. His lips lifted into a smile as he came up behind you and leaned over, going in for a kiss. You laughed into the kiss. Logan broke from your lips and began peppering kisses over your face.

“I take it the first day was good?” You laughed.

“Mhm,” he hummed, giving the top of your head a kiss before jumping over the couch to sit beside you. He pulled you into his lap, nuzzling his nose into your face. “I brought you flowers.”

“You did?”

“Mhm.” He handed them to you.

“They’re beautiful.”

“Glad you like them,” he kissed your temple. “How was your day, sweetheart?”

“It was… good.”

His brows furrowed as he pulled back to see you better. “Why don't I believe you?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. You pushed the book open and tried to read it.

“Nu-uh.” Logan grabbed the book and tossed it onto the coffee table nearby. “Don’t ignore this… don’t ignore me.”

“Seriously, Logan, it was fine. I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

“Logan…” You moved to push yourself off of Logan, but he quickly held tighter.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” He kissed behind your ear. “I believe you.”

You nodded. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Okay.” You kissed his cheek. “I’m going to get something started. Go clean up and meet me in the kitchen.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He pulled you in for a quick peck before the two of you stood up together. You smiled at him before slipping into the nearby kitchen. Logan watched knowingly. Something was going on with you, but you weren’t willing to admit it yet. The two of you had moved here to work on your communication skills and other aspects of your relationship, though it was clear it would still be a long road.

Logan was quick to clean up and join you in the kitchen. He could tell that you were relaxing the more he was near you. The two of you teased each other as you worked together to cook dinner. After dinner, the two of you cuddled on the couch, reading until Logan began distracting you. The two of you ended up in bed, ravishing each other’s bodies.

~~~

That became a repeat for the next few weeks. Logan would go to work, and you would panic alone. Logan would come home, knowing that something was wrong, but swiftly distract you with something he got you from town. It was annoying you that you couldn’t fight off the anxiousness of being alone, especially as the weeks wore on. You knew that no one would take you away or kill you. No one knew where you were or who you were. But the old memories haunted you. You’d barely been near the cliff where Logan had buried you, and Stryker had dug you up. It was all so much, though you truly wanted to be there.

“I have a long shift today, remember?” Logan said as the two of you walked to the door. “I won’t be home until late.”

“Right,” you murmured, looking down.

“Hey.” Logan hooked a finger under your chin and guided your head to look at him. “I can stay home if you need me.”

“No, I’m fine.” You shook your head and gave his lips a peck. “I’ll have dinner ready for whenever you arrive tonight.”

“Love you.” He captured your lips for another kiss before heading to the truck.

“Love you.”

You watched until Logan had completely disappeared before heading back into the house. Today, the anxiety seemed to hit you worse for no good reason. As soon as the door was shut, your hands were trembling, and sparks were shooting from your fingertips. Your legs buckled beneath you as you began to gasp for breath.

You needed Logan. You need to fess up and tell him the truth. You just had to get to the phone and hopefully not burn it when you did. Your trembling body wouldn’t allow you to stand, so you were forced to crawl, burning a path in the wood. With a shaky hand, you reached up onto the counter and knocked down the phone. As quickly as you could, you typed in Logan’s number. It rang once before Logan answered.

“Miss me already?” Logan joked but quickly stopped when he picked up on your labored breaths. “Sweetheart? What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” you cried. You could hear the truck's tires as Logan turned it around. “I should have told you… I should have been honest…”

“I’m on my way back, baby. Stay with me.” It’s like he could see that you were going to lose consciousness. “Breathe, Y/N.”

“I’m—I’m… trying…”

“I know you are. I’ll be right there. Okay?” Your body gave into the darkness. “Y/N?! Shit!”

Logan drove speedily up the mountain, trying to get back to you. As soon as he could, Logan was out of the truck and racing inside. The air smelt of your smoke and Logan noticed the burnt trail into the wood. He followed it to where your body lay near the kitchen. There were small flames littered around you.

Despite the heat of your body, Logan grabbed you from the floor and hurried you to the bathroom. He needed to wake you and cool you down. Flipping the shower on, Logan stepped inside, not caring that the two of you still had clothes on.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he muttered, trying to cool you down. “Wake up.”

You groaned, slowly coming back to. “Lo… Logan?”

“I’m here.”

“Are… are we in the shower? Oh no! Did I set something on fire?”

“It’s fine. You stopped.”

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… I should have told you from the beginning.”

“Yes, you should have. But I’m not mad at you. I’m just glad you finally told me.”

You nodded, wincing as some harsh water hit your eyes. “Do you think we could continue this conversation out of the shower?”

Logan chuckled. “Okay.”

~~~

After that day, you and Logan tried to never keep a secret that important from each other. Logan slowly helped you with your anxiety, making sure you had a routine to follow when he wasn’t home. When he was home, he made sure to be fully home with you. The two of you shared the chores, though most of the time Logan was trying to get you to rest and not worry about it.

Both you and Logan continued to have the occasional nightmares, but neither of you was bothered by the other’s nightmares. The two of you did what needed to be done to comfort the other.

Your relationship still had its hardships, but you and Logan worked hard on your relationship. Life became nice, almost easy in a way. There was a steady routine throughout your life that you learned to enjoy.

One day, years after you left the mansion, Logan came home late from work. He quietly entered the house and found you working away on dinner in the kitchen. A small smile took over his features as he came over and slipped his arms around you. You jumped slightly, letting out a squeak of surprise as Logan held a kiss to the side of your head.

“Hey, you,” you greeted with a smile, relaxing into him.

“Hey, you,” he repeated. The two of you moved your heads to meet for a kiss.

“How was work?”

“Good.”

You pecked his lips again before focusing back on dinner. Logan sighed, resting his head against yours as he remained wrapped around you while you worked. Logan was simply amazed with you and felt like he was the luckiest man in the world.

“Marry me.”

It was a soft statement, not a question. It had you freezing in your spot. Logan gently guided you around to face him.

“Marry me,” he repeated.

You looked at him. All you could see was his seriousness and his unconditional love for you.

“Okay,” you breathed out.

“Okay?” He repeated, trying to make sure that you were sure.

“I’ll marry you.”

“Yeah?”

“You gonna question all my responses?” You laughed. “Or are you going to kiss me already?”

Logan’s lips attacked yours before you could tease him again. He quickly pulled you into him and away from the stove. His hands snaked down your hips to your legs and gripped onto your thighs. Without breaking from your lips, Logan lifted you up and turned around, setting you on the island.

“Logan,” you breathed out as he began to trail kisses down your neck. “I’m making dinner…”

With quick movements, Logan shut off the stove. “Dinner can wait.”

~~~

The two of you cuddled naked in bed after showing each other how much you love each other. Logan’s hands gently moved up your neck and slipped his dog tags off.

“What are you doing?” You asked quietly.

“Gettin’ your ring,” he mumbled, focusing on opening the chain.

You watched as Logan carefully took the ring off of the chain before he placed it back around your neck. Then Logan took your left hand and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. Slowly, he slipped the ring onto your finger.

“You still good with this ring?” He asked, genuinely worried.

“Logan,” you moved your hand to caress his cheek. “This ring will always be perfect.”

“You sure? I can always—“

“James.” You pecked his lips. “I love it… I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You two shared another kiss.

“Logan, I…”

“What, sweetheart?”

“I don’t really want to deal with planning a wedding… I don’t want to worry about anyone coming or decorations. We should just go to the courthouse.”

“Mhm,” he hummed. “What about private vows right here, right now?”

“But I don’t have a ring for you.”

Logan chuckled. “Baby, I can’t wear a ring. My claws won’t allow it.”

“Oh, yeah…”

“Your dog tags will be my ring.”

“Alright… what should we promise each other?”

“Well, I know what I’d promise you… Been thinking about it a lot, actually.”

“Tell me.”

Logan turned to the side and opened the drawer of the bedside table. He pulled out a piece of paper before helping you sit up with him against the headboard. You felt like you could cry as the paper trembled slightly in Logan’s hands. He had written his thoughts—his feelings down. That wasn’t like him at all.

“Okay,” he breathed out, eyes focused on the paper before him. “Y/N… I never thought I’d experience something like this in my long lifetime. Let alone twice with the same person… I’m not good with words, but I made a list of promises that I intend to keep… I promise to be your partner in all things. I promise to protect you with my life. I promise to be by your side. I promise to love you with a fierceness that rivals me on the battlefield. I promise to embrace every moment with you, cherish our shared experiences, and find joy together. I promise to be your Logan, your James, your Wolverine until the end of my days. But I promise that the title I will wear the post proudly is that of your husband.” Logan looked up at you, eyes shining with love and tears. “I love you so much, sweetheart.”

You responded by leaning in and kissing him, trying to pour your feelings into the kiss. He eagerly kissed back.

“I love you so much, Logan,” you whispered against his lips. “And I wish I was more prepared—“

“You don’t need to be, sweetheart. As long as you’re here, that’s all I need.”

~~~

You and Logan didn’t care if your marriage was official or not. In your minds you were now husband and wife, which apparently led to more attraction to each other than before. Everything Logan did seemed to turn you on.

It was a Saturday in the fall, and Logan was chopping down a few nearby trees, wanting to make sure you had enough wood for the winter. You stood in the doorway of the house, leaning against it, nibbling away at your bottom lip. You couldn’t help but check Logan out. The way his muscles moved as he swung the ax. The way his white tank top was just a bit too tight, so it allowed you to see his abs through it. Logan’s skin glistened with sweat as he worked. You were sure that he could feel you staring, purposefully moving in certain directions to keep your attention.

Suddenly, you came up with an idea. You slipped into the house and put on a new set of lingerie you had bought recently and then put on one of Logan’s flannels, buttoning a few of the middle buttons up. As quietly as you could, you came up behind Logan.

“Hey, handsome,” you flirted.

“Hey, sweethe—“ Logan’s voice stopped as he took a second look to actually look at you. “What are you wearing?”

You shrugged, coming closer. “Looked comfy.”

He eyed the lace peeking out of the flannel as he set the ax down. “That’s not what I meant.”

You came up and ran a hand down his muscular arm. “You know… you’re a real good-looking lumberjack.”

“Yeah?” He smirked, brow raising.

Your hands slowly grazed up his arms until you could clasp them around his neck. “Oh yeah… like the hottest lumberjack around.”

Logan couldn’t help but chuckle as his arms came around to the small of your back. “Is that why you couldn’t take your eyes off me?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, biting your lip as he pulled you impossibly closer.

“Did my wife enjoy the show?” You whined at him calling you his wife. It always got to you, and he knew that. “Do you want me to continue?”

“No,” you rasped, shaking your head.

“Then tell your husband what you want.”

“I want to go to our bedroom.”

“And?”

“I want to have sex. Ah! Logan!” You were suddenly thrown over his shoulder.

“Took ya long enough, sweetheart. Do you think I was chopping wood for fun?”

~~~

It had been almost ten years since the two of you left the mansion and never looked back. Life had been a wonderful, amazing bubble. Full of love and laughter. And you knew, deep down, that sooner or later, someone would come around to pop that bubble.

Logan was at work, meaning that you were alone at the house. You were cleaning up the kitchen when a knock sounded at the door. You were immediately on edge. You quickly grabbed the phone and called Logan.

“Sweetheart?” He answered almost immediately, already knowing that something was wrong.

“Someone just knocked at the door,” you whispered.

“What?” You could hear rustling on his end. “I’m on my way back now.”

The knock sounded again. “Should I answer it?”

“No. Get to a place where they can’t see you. I’ll deal with it when I get there.”

“Okay, I—“ You spun around at the sound of your glass doors sliding open. A young woman waltzed in, sword on her back.

“Y/N?!” Logan began panicking over the phone. “Sweetheart?!”

“Who are you?” You asked the young woman as you slowly lowered the phone, and a fireball began forming in your free hand. “And what are you doing breaking into my house?”

“My name is Yukio, and I’m looking for the Wolverine.”

next chapter >

84 notes · View notes

piastrisun · 5 hours ago

Text

unexpected confession.

pairings: lando norris + fem reader.

summary: as the elevator stalls, so does your composure. lando’s sudden, earnest words turn the trapped moment into a delicate dance between panic and possibility.

genre: fluff.⠀word count: 1k.⠀ warning: none.

notes: lando’s birthday!!! a bit short but i hope y’all like it. <3 no use of y/n or any names at all.

you and lando are standing in the elevator, the air uncomfortably still, and the space around you both feels too small. the elevator’s hum seems louder now, echoing in the confined space. the flickering light above does little to calm the rising tension between you two, as your body instinctively shifts to press against the corner.

you’ve never thought much about how close you are to each other—how every small movement feels amplified in this moment. it's as if your very proximity makes the silence heavier. your mind races, trying to distract itself from the fact that you're alone in an elevator, stuck for what feels like forever. it should be mundane, but with lando here, everything suddenly feels too intense.

and then, he breaks the stillness, his voice barely above a whisper but loud enough to shake you out of your thoughts. "i don’t want to die without telling you this."

your heart skips a beat, and a chill runs down your spine. the sudden panic floods you, and you whip your head to face him, your eyes wide, your breath catching in your throat. “what?! what are you talking about? are we—are we dying?”

his face goes pale as he stammers, looking more flustered than you've ever seen him. his hands hover over the elevator buttons as though he can fix the situation with the press of a few keys. “no! no, of course not… well, i mean, i don’t think so. but listen, it’s important.” he avoids your gaze, the nervous energy practically crackling between you.

you let out a shaky, almost panicked laugh, trying to control the rapid beat of your heart. “lando, this is not the time for dramatic confessions! you’re freaking me out!”

he shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes dart around the elevator. you can tell he’s struggling to keep it together, his body stiff with the weight of whatever he's about to say. “i love you. i always have. and i’m sorry for not saying it sooner.”

you freeze, your body going rigid. the words land with such weight that you can’t process them fast enough. your jaw falls open, and your mouth feels dry as you blink a few times, as if trying to clear the fog in your brain. "wait, what? you love me? you’ve… always loved me?" you can’t quite wrap your mind around it, your voice coming out in a whisper, disbelief taking over. your hands tremble, and your heart is pounding so hard you swear he can hear it. "are you—are you serious right now? do you think we’re going to die in this elevator?"

“no! no, i don’t think we’re dying! i mean, not right now.” lando sighs dramatically, dropping his shoulders in exasperation as he leans back against the elevator wall, seemingly giving up on fixing anything. “but… look, i just needed to say it, okay? i didn’t want to leave with it unsaid. so, if we do die, well… at least you know.”

his words hang in the air like a strange confession, one that doesn't quite make sense given the circumstances. but even then, a knot of warmth stirs in your chest, a strange mix of emotions you’re not ready to confront.

you step back, crossing your arms tightly over your chest as if trying to shield yourself from what’s happening. you narrow your eyes at him, your lips curling into a teasing frown. “so, this is your plan? we get stuck in an elevator for five minutes and suddenly you’ve decided to unload your feelings?”

he groans, his face turning an even deeper shade of red. he slumps against the wall, letting out a breath like he's trying to deflate from the awkwardness. “this wasn’t exactly the moment i planned, okay? but i’ve been holding it in for years, and if you do kill me with that glare, at least i’ll go knowing i said it.”

you bite back a smile, your eyes narrowing in mock judgment. you raise an eyebrow as you lean toward him. “glare? i’m just trying to process this. you’ve have fancied me all this time, and you never said anything?”

his shoulders tense, and he rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze as if searching for some way to escape. “i wasn’t sure if you felt the same. i thought maybe you’d think i was, i don’t know, creepy or something.” his voice cracks slightly, a nervous chuckle escaping him. he looks down at his shoes, his embarrassment clear. “but now here we are. stuck in this tiny box together, one awkward cough away from the end of our lives…”

you can’t help but laugh, the sound light and a little shaky as you step forward, your lips curling into a playful smirk. “well, lucky for you, i don’t think you’re creepy. and maybe… just maybe… i’ve had a few feelings too.”

his eyes widen, his mouth slightly agape, disbelief written all over his face. his voice falters for a moment, but it’s full of hope. “wait, what?!”

you laugh softly, the playful edge to your voice not masking the sudden warmth in your chest. "you think i’m just going to throw myself at you after you drop that bomb? i’m not that easy, lando."

his eyes light up, his expression shifting from surprise to sheer delight. he takes a step closer, his grin impossibly wide as he leans in, his voice filled with teasing excitement. “oh, really? because if we do get stuck here a little longer, i can think of a few ways to pass the time…” his gaze flickers down to your lips before meeting your eyes again, mischievous and full of playful challenge.

you roll your eyes dramatically, trying to maintain some semblance of control over your emotions, but the smile you can’t hide betrays you. "you’re unbelievable."

lando shrugs, his grin growing even wider as he leans back, arms crossing in mock defense. his eyes dance with a mix of humor and genuine affection. "i do try."

©⠀piastrisun original work. please don’t translate, claim or repost any of my writing, 24’.

#piastrisun: work #piastrisun: one shot #f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x you #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic

66 notes · View notes

anjelicawrites · 2 days ago

Text

Paring: Armand x reader

Synopsis: you're sitting in a pub, you start drawing the mysterious stranger sitting not far away from you. When he discovers you, you don’t realize you’ve picked the attention of a dangerous creature.

Warnings: reference to past injury, self doubt, allusion to past trauma.

A/N: reader is AFAB. They/them pronouns used.

The wind is howling outside the thick windows of the pub, dark clouds promising heavy rain and violent waves against the jagged coast not too far from the narrow road where the pub is built. The fire is roaring in the huge hearth, shadowed by too many people huddling there to nurse their drinks; the lights are dim against the old wooden panels, giving the overcrowded room a homely air.

You beer sits next to the small case full of your pencils as you draw in the dim lights of the overcrowded room.

Your head sits lightly on your free hand as the other rushes to finish the quick sketch you’re working on, before your, unintentional, muse decides to leave; you’re hoping the promise of heavy rain will convince the man to stay a little longer. Who knows if he will or he will try his luck, now that the wind has picked up even more violently.

You focus again on the black lines on the sheet of paper, finishing the outline to start working on the elegant sweater he’s wearing; you’re no expert but it looks expensive, and warm, and soft. A real nightmare to draw using only a charcoal pencil, since you are planning to add colors and you don’t want to put too many shadows that aren’t there.

“It has been a long time since anyone ever painted me. I was given the chance to pose back then, for hours, I have to admit.”

The soft voice makes you lift your head in surprise; dimly you think that there is an accent you can’t truly pinpoint, his words almost neutral in their intonation.

“It’s actually a drawing, not a painting.”

You want to drown in your own sweater at how stupid your response sounds.

“May I sit?”

You can’t see his eyes, hidden behind his wraparounds sunglasses and his expression is hard to read: you’d hate to cause a scene, not everyone appreciates being portrayed in secret.

“Please, do.”

Carefully you move your beer more on the side of the small round table, the too long sleeve of your sweater uncovering partially the black burn glove on your left hand, despite you racing to hide it again.

The man sits down, gracefully and only now you notice he has no drink with him: he must have entered the pub to escape the oncoming storm. He only lays an elegant cigarette case on the battered table, the ornate, intricate designs catch your attention from the rowdy crowd of the pub.

He is stunningly beautiful, but this you realized when you eyes had landed on him, whilst you were sipping your beer and wondering what, or who, you could sketch to pass the time; what truly draw your attention was his aura, so calm, yet it gave you the sense of someone who keeps a tight lid on their emotions, like a summer evening when you know it’s going to rain soon.

“Are you an artist?”

Again, his soft voice drags you back from your thoughts, the musicality of it makes you want to listen to him reading his grocery shop list, if that meant just hearing it.

“No, not really, it’s just a hobby.”

“You have a great deal of sketches in your book, and in your little case.”

Almost on instinct you want to grab your work and curl around it in protection; it’s the gut reaction of a second, you aren’t in that position anymore, this man will not tear your works into shreds for no reason.

“It’s something I haven’t done for a while and then I had decided to pick it up again. We can’t only work all the time, can’t we? We need to treat ourselves.” You say with a smile.

“I am acquainted with that meme.”

It surprises you that he feels the need to convey his knowledge: what a strange man.

“This is my way to treat myself.”

“By drawing unsuspecting strangers?”

There’s no heath in his words, no rage, perhaps a bit of curiosity.

“By drawing what, or who, catches my eyes.” You answer, parroting his words. “I love to hang somewhere and just let my eyes wander. I can stop sketching you, if you want, I know it’s disconcerting for some people.”

You can truly feel the weight of his gaze, still hidden by the sunglasses, even now that the pub is bathed in the dark light from outside. This stranger is not simply looking at you, you feel as if he’s taking you apart to catalog every single piece of yourself he can find, like an entomologist does with a pinned butterfly.

You know you shouldn't feel so calm under his scrutiny, that you should bid your farewell and go home, but you can’t help yourself: you want this stranger to keep looking at you like he would the pieces of a puzzle he desperately needs to put together. No matter how dangerous the consequences.

A shiver runs down the damaged nerves on your left arm, and you decide to ignore the warning.

“Why should you? You’re very talented.”

All of his nervousness now shows itself in the way his index fingers fiddles with the cigarette case, his hidden gaze fixed upon you.

“It’s a shame it’s not possible to smoke in public places such as this one anymore.”

How strange! You think. The law passed here in 2004 and he talks about it as if he had experienced how it was before. He can’t be that old!

He seems to have made his mind as his hand gently grasps the sunglasses, as if ready to remove them.

“Please, don’t!” In your haste you lift your hand, almost to stop him. “The most interesting part is to guess and imagine. Do keep wearing them.”

There’s a slew of small expressions playing on his face, all to hide his surprise and, perhaps, curiosity?

You grab the charcoal pencil in a tighter grip and go back to your work, losing yourself in the quick, almost nervous motions of your hand on the paper: you don’t know why you feel like you have to rush, to capture the fleeting essence of this nameless man, but you do.

With every ticking second you believe you’re going to lose the feeble hold you have on the ideas crowding your mind, with every stroke you fear you’re drifting far away from the first image of sadness and loneliness that lighted up in your mind, as soon as you saw him, sitting alone in the pub, under lights that enhanced his otherworldly beauty, the very thing that set him apart from all the other men present.

You only need to glance at him sparsely, to make sure to capture the texture of his hair and the folds of his sweater, the long lines of his fingers against the battered wood of the table.

Only when you’re finished, you realize you have been holding your breathe for most of the sketching and you have to force yourself to take a big gulp of air, before turning your sketchbook to him, while grabbing your beer again.

You’re learning not to be shy, when it comes to your creations, to share them with the world, to accept the criticism and the compliments; not now. Now you’re crawling out of your shell again, trying to draw while being filled with self doubts and hating every single piece you created, those past months disappearing in your mind, along with the strength you built for yourself.

His piercing gaze is now turned on your drawing, that analytical stare that cut you into layers and layers, now is doing the same to your work, and to himself: you’d do anything to know his thoughts, now that his face shows nothing.

Under the stillness a maelstrom rages. The man looking back at him from the page is a knot of everything he’s always felt and never told. Through the fast strokes of his eyes, he can see all his hardships, all he’s done and lost for centuries, pain and desperation, in a way a simple mirror would never show him: how a simple mortal like you could read him so deeply after staring at him, comes as a surprise. You’re nothing but a child, compared to him, yet you have the understanding of a much older person, as if you’ve experienced the depths of hell, only to expose it in your art, and to him.

It takes a lot of restrain for Armand to show nothing of his internal turmoil: it has been so long since someone managed to pin him down so precisely, so perfectly, he has to fight the instinct to stand up and storm out, away from you and your keen eyes; he wonders if you have done the same to other people, read them so perfectly and bluntly putting them in front of their own soul, like his fledgling had done to him. Do you know how dangerous you are? Do you have any inkling of how easily you could destroy a person’s life? Would you do that in the name of the truth?

“It’s awful, isn’t it? It’s not worth keeping.”

You reach with your good hand to slip the sketchbook away from his grasp and he stops you with elegant fingers on your wrist. His grasp is not strong, it doesn’t hurt, but holds a secret strength you can feel traveling up your arm and makes you shiver with the need for more.

“It’s beautiful.” He says, after a heartbeat, still holding you in place. “The one who painted me wasn’t as good an artist as you are, he lacked the depth you hold.”

His face is now turned back to you, his hidden, piercing stare focused on your features, analyzing you again, as if wanting to explore the hidden crevices of your soul.

“Thank you.” You stammer. “I’m glad you like it.”

Still, he says nothing, making you feel self-conscious of your own existence in this small pub on the coast.

“Would it be too forward of me to ask you to gift me this sketch?”

You’re too dazzled yourself to notice the small quiver in his soft voice.

“Oh! That’s the first time anyone has asked me that.”

Right now the people around you two don’t exist, nor is the wind beating down the old windows and stones of the building. There are no passing cars outside, nor are the waves crashing against the high cliffs, just a handful of miles from here.

“I thought I wanted to color it.”

“I think it’s perfect this way.”

He knows a finished work will incinerate him on the spot, because he will never be able not to stare at it, at himself, like Dorian Gray, to face all his centuries on this Earth.

“You’re too good to me. It’s really just a small sketch.”

“You’re selling yourself short. You have something many professional artists lack.”

When his big hand releases yours, the spell you were under breaks and all the sounds around you attack you again, adding to the fog you’re still feeling clouding your brain.

Almost through a dream, you take the sketchbook from his hand and cut the page off with the small pocket knife you keep in your pouch to sharpen some of your thicker pencils.

“It’s yours, my personal thank you for appreciating my work.”

His fingers touch yours again on the thin piece of paper and only now you notice how cold they are, despite the heath in the pub.

“Thank you.” There’s no calculation in his words, he feels real gratitude, the feeling burning brightly in the scorched desert of his soul. “I don’t even know your name.”

When you answer his question, you feel like he’s got a hold on your soul, like in the stories about the fairies.

“My name is Armand.”

A french name to someone who hasn’t a french accent, but nowadays people call their children anything, you think.

“Are you here on holiday?”

You can see the cheeky way his mouth turns when he smiles at your question.

“I thought I was simply passing through, but I am fascinated with how this area has changed, I think I am going to stay, for a while.”

You almost don’t notice the way he refers to this place as if he’s visited it years and years ago. Almost.

“Do you have somewhere to carry it? My sketch I mean. It has just started to rain.”

“Unfortunately I don’t. And I don’t wish to ruin it.”

“Here, use this!”

With much too haste, you empty the case where you carry your bigger pieces and hand it over to him.

“I can’t possibly accept it. Your other works will be destroyed by the rain.”

“I can roll them up and keep them in my bag, it’s big enough. Besides, that one is fresh, if you do the same to it, it will get ruined.”

“I still need to refund you yours.”

“There’s no need. If you’re staying, you’ll give it back whenever you can. There aren’t many meeting places here.”

The old trick always works: you are all so easy to manipulate.

“Then I shall give it back as soon is possible.”

His hands don’t tremble when they take the case from you, touching the sketch again doesn’t burn him the same way the first time did, but he knows he’s still affected, and needs to understand why.

“Regrettably, I need to go now.”

He lies, a part of him wants to stay to take your brain apart until he knows all the ways the mechanisms work there, but it’s too early for that.

“It’s raining pretty hard.”

“My car is parked nearby and your lovely sketch is safe.”

He doesn’t have a car, but he has faster means of transportation that defy such a small thing as rain.

Before you can stand up, he gracefully takes your hand to kiss the palm, ignoring the smudges of charcoal. He does it the classy way: his lips don’t touch your skin.

“Thank you again for your gift.”

“No, thank you for humoring me. I hope I’ll see you soon!”

Oh, he thinks, you have no idea how ‘soon’ can become ‘now’.

#armand x reader #armand x y/n #iwtv #armand #amc iwtv #interview with the vampire #amc interview with the vampire #the vampire armand

65 notes · View notes

universalzones · 2 days ago

Text

"It went less than ideal as he was willing to let us evacuate any injured we may have, and provide some of their own anti-fire suppressant units. However, he refused to budge on letting any members of The Restoration in with the claim that the President of GUN was who gave the order. I still find this all extremely fishy, though even someone of my diplomatic training couldn't make headway with the little information I have." Blaze was more than a bit frustrated, though there wasn't much she could do.

"You haven't shoved anything on me as I offered to deal with Lupus while you got the forces in order so don't go thinking you did. As for Sonic and Surge, I can keep an eye on them, though those two have so much Chaos Energy I doubt I could connect to their minds to speak with them." Blaze's Sol Magic was far too different from Chaos Energy so doubt's it'd end will with how much Sonic and Surge have. "If I have to I can easily rush to Sonic and attempt to calm him down. Hopefully without having to use force." The feline didn't wish to fight with a friend.

===========================================================

The knight had been lead to the opposite check point, seeing all GUN soldiers having set up from inside the base. She would simply walk out, making her way to a halfway point between the base and the check point they set up. Then she just stood there, staring at them and not saying a word as she had nothing to say to them.

===========================================================

"If Blaze managed to get some help I can only assume they must be pretty strong too." Belle was only guessing, though the fact that Blaze only asked a single person to come and help made her assume they weren't one to mess with. The tinkerer was still extremely worried about Sonic losing his cool, though trusted Lanolin when she said Blaze would keep an eye on him.

"I just hope GUN wouldn't be stupid enough to shoot at the Wisp. I've heard a lot of rumors of what they've done, though here's hoping chaos doesn't break loose." Belle had heard so many stories about GUN, even when she lived in the village which tended to be so far from conflict more often than not. The tinkerer could only hope for the best.

===========================================================

The Mother Wisp was about to return back to the Shadow Void before sensing another Wisp flying up to her making her turn to look at them. After hearing them explain what was going on and asking for help she turned her attention downwards. It was hard to ignore sensing so many young Wisp scared or worried which only made her angry as while she wasn't the Grand Mother Wisp each Mother Wisp could still feel the emotions of all the children.

The Mother Wisp would then grow a size, a sign she was struggling to keep her anger in check, though was remaining mostly calm. She would disappear only to reappear right above the base. She'd then just angrily glare at the GUN soldiers, as if daring them to try anything and to see what'll happen.

Lanolin was trying her best to keep calm, but the threat that Sonic might snap and cause an all out war between GUN and Restoration was insane. She was trying to devise some way to ward off GUN and now she had to worry that Sonic might just blow everything! not that she wasn't pissed about Amy to! but there was a difference between being angry about it, and getting people killed because of it! She was just about to order her people to openly try and stop Sonic when Blaze's voice popped in her head making her stop cold in her tracks.

" Hold on a second Belle..."

She looked up as if that would help her see Blaze better

" Blaze? That's good! how did your negotiations with GUN Go? Listen i know i've shoved alot on to you. But can you go keep your eye on Sonic? He found out about Amy and he and Surge just whipped past us... and I just have this bad feeling that he's gonna do something stupid... and Surge is over there trying to calm him down! and if i know her she won't be gentle! we need Sonic level headed... "

She turned to look at Belle with a little bit of a calmer look on her face as she at least had hope that Blaze could stop Sonic if it came to it. Between her and Surge it shouldn't be an issue right? But then this was Sonic if he decided to go all out who knew the damage he could cause right?

" I just asked Blaze to keep an Eye on Sonic... she also sent us some help so here is hoping its enough. Now... Maggie, go see what you can arrange with the our big friend up there. We just want her to be imposing, till GUN takes the hint "

The Wisp Saluted Lanolin and zipped up toward the big Wisp to begin negotiations. Maggie had been part of the war for some time and had lost some friends when Eggman attacked there home world. Which led to them being more invested in the war. but much like Lanolin they tried to avoid it for a long time, and there genuine loss was something they bonded over. But much like Lanolin they could be direct, and unyielding at times.

" ☝︎❒︎♏︎♋︎⧫︎ 💣︎□︎⧫︎♒︎♏︎❒︎✏︎ 💣︎♋︎⍓︎ ♓︎ ❒︎♏︎❑︎◆︎♏︎⬧︎⧫︎ ♋︎ ❍︎□︎❍︎♏︎■︎⧫︎ □︎♐︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎❒︎ ⧫︎♓︎❍︎♏︎✍︎ ❄︎♒︎□︎⬧︎♏︎ ♌︎♏︎●︎□︎⬥︎ ◆︎⬧︎📪︎ ♒︎♋︎❖︎♏︎ ⬥︎□︎❒︎🙵♏︎♎︎ ❖︎♋︎●︎♓︎♋︎■︎⧫︎●︎⍓︎ ⧫︎□︎ ❒︎♏︎⬧︎⧫︎□︎❒︎♏︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎❒︎♏︎ ♒︎□︎❍︎♏︎📬︎ ✡︎♏︎⧫︎ ■︎□︎⬥︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎❒︎♏︎ □︎⬥︎■︎ ♒︎□︎❍︎♏︎ ❍︎♋︎⍓︎♌︎♏︎ ♋︎⧫︎ ❒︎♓︎⬧︎🙵📪︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎⍓︎ ♋︎❒︎♏︎ ♒︎□︎◻︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ ❍︎♓︎♑︎♒︎⧫︎ ⬧︎⧫︎♋︎■︎♎︎ ⬥︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎❍︎📬︎ ❄︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎❒︎ ◻︎❒︎♏︎⬧︎♏︎■︎♍︎♏︎ ♋︎●︎□︎■︎♏︎ ❍︎♓︎♑︎♒︎⧫︎ ♎︎♓︎⬧︎⬧︎◆︎♋︎♎︎♏︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎⬧︎♏︎ ⬧︎⧫︎❒︎♋︎■︎♑︎♏︎ ◻︎♏︎□︎◻︎●︎♏︎ ♐︎❒︎□︎❍︎ ♓︎■︎❖︎♋︎♎︎♓︎■︎♑︎ "

#atangledfate #Blaze the Cat #burning sol guardian #Belle the Tinkerer #gentle puppet tinkerer #Mother Wisp #rp #ic #IDW Sonic

99 notes · View notes

thezombieprostitute · 3 days ago

Text

The Arrangement - Part 10

Summary: Jake's done a lot of things to keep his sister, and then his niece, safe from his parent's influence and manipulation. If he wants to keep them safe, he has to marry you.

Warnings: Bad parents, Implied abuse, Implied violence. Let me know if I missed any!

Part 9 -- Part 11

Series Masterlist

As you calm down, Jake waits until you tell him to before he lets you go. He can't imagine how much you might need this so he'll hold you for as long as you want.

You sniffle and shake your head as you gently push away from him. "I'm sorry about that," you splutter.

"No need to apologize," he assures. "It's been a really crazy couple of days. Probably a lot longer than that for you."

"I should get to work on the dishes." You try to move past him but he holds out his arm.

"I said I'd do the dishes," he reminds you. "Not only did you cook breakfast, you cooked a lot more food than you should have. The least I can do is help out with the clean up."

"You had to actually talk to them," you quietly argue. "I just sat and refilled drinks."

"You also really helped me out, reassured me when I was feeling lost," he gently countered. "Please let me do this for you?"

It takes you a minute of internal waffling before you tell him, "okay. And thank you."

As you start tearing up again Jake is quick to ask, "are you okay? What's wrong? Do you need another hug? Are you hurt?"

"I'm just...I'm just not...not used to such kindness," you confess as you wipe the tears away.

"Doing the dishes for you is more than you're used to?" You nod and Jake feels a renewed wave of anger at your family. "Would...would it help if you supervised my cleaning? Make sure I'm not cleaning your cast iron by putting it in the dishwasher?" Your eyes go wide and you gasp, but he's quick to smile and reassure you that he would never do that. "It's one of the few cleaning things I will forever know, if only because it came up in a trivia night one time."

The giggle escapes before you even knew it was forming. You slap your hand over your mouth, embarrassed but Jake's eyes are lit up. Everything in his body language tells you he's not angry or offended at your outburst, but happy about it.

"If you want me to ignore that, I will," he comments. "But I would be happy to acknowledge it!" He looks at you like an excited puppy eager for praise and you can't help but continue giggling from behind your hand. He starts shaking with excitement but he's not saying or doing anything because you haven't said if you want it acknowledged. Unfortunately that's just making your fit more uncontrollable.

You remove your hand and gasp between fits, "it's okay. I'm so sorry. I don't know why I'm laughing this much. I'm sorry."

Jake lightly bounces as he assures you, "it's okay! There's nothing to apologize for! Sometimes a thing just tickles your fancy. It could also be a response to all the stress you've been through. When was the last time you had a really good cry? Or a really good laugh?"

"It has been a long time," you sigh, keeping your head down as you finally get your laughing under control.

"So, would you be willing to supervise me in the kitchen?"

"That sounds nice," you nod.

"And you promise to correct me if I do something wrong? Or before I do something wrong?" You hesitate at that. "I promise I don't want to upset you. I just...we're going to be going to a lot of parties soon. I'll have no idea what I'm doing. I'm going to need your help." You look up at him, eyes a mix of emotions. "I...I get the impression you're not...you don't correct others." You lower your face in shame. "Hey, it's not...I get why. I really do! It's not a judgment, I promise!" Jake's tone becomes a little more frantic, but no less pleading, soft. "And I'm gonna need your help to not make an ass of myself at these parties. That includes correcting me or stopping me before I do something stupid. The kitchen supervision could be a good way to practice that for us?"

"That...that makes sense," you agree. "I promise to try?"

Jake smiles, "thank you so much, Sharky!"

"Sharky?"

"Sorry, I'm used to friends with nicknames," he quickly explains. "And, I figured you...you like sharks so much you literally studied them...I swear it sounded better in my head." His face looks chagrined as he rubs his hand on the back of his head.

"I...I've never really had a nickname before," you tell him. "I kinda did when I was studying, but it was definitely derogatory." Jake's eyes turn sad. "Derogatory regarding my background. No matter how much work I did, I was still called 'Princess' because of my family." You shake your head to dispel the memory. "But 'Sharky' sounds a lot nicer." You give him a soft smile that has Jake's heart fluttering.

As the dishes get loaded into the dishwasher and the others await the required handwashing, you decide to ask Jake about something that's been bothering you.

"Your father," you hesitate, knowing it's a sensitive topic. "He mentioned something about your niece?"

Jake sighs, the smile on his face dropping. "You remember my sister was engaged to Travis?"

"Of course."

"I got her out of it by, essentially, hiding her far away from here. She met someone, fell in love, and they had a daughter." Your eyes widen slightly in surprise. "She's only 8 years old," he continues. "But she's super stubborn, like her mother. Smart, like her father. And she's damn good at soccer, minus some bad calls from a ref."

You smile a little at that. It's very clear he cares a lot for her.

"But my parents found out about her," he continues. "They hinted that they know where she and Sarah live and they flat out told me that, unless I agreed to marry you, to be the obedient son they always wanted, they were going to marry her off to your brother."

You gasp at that. You knew your parents were determined to solidify power and position by combining the families but you didn't think they would go so far! And to your brother, who would be twice her age upon marrying her! Your blood freezes as you think of how badly he'd hurt her.

"Hey, Sharky? You okay?"

Jake's voice breaks through the bad memories, "sorry. I just...I'm happy to help you keep her safe."

"Thank you for that."

Part 9 -- Part 11

Series Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @ashdoctor; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @irishhappiness

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly

#jake jensen #jake jensen x reader #jake jensen x female reader #arranged marriage au #jake jensen x you

36 notes · View notes

letmeoutofthebasementt · 1 day ago

Text

Skz Energies

Chan: I can’t quite describe it. His energy probably resonates the most with me in terms of familiarity and similarity which also makes it harder to describe for me. But his energy kind of gives me the vibes of sleepovers in the winter but not in a cold way, in a warm and cozy way. Like no matter how cold it is outside, inside it’s warm and calming. With coffee, tea, or hot chocolate, curled up under the covers watching your favorite movie but not even paying attention to it because you’re so busy talking and gossiping, while there’s chaos around you but it’s more easing than overwhelming. Almost like a found family environment that he just naturally kind of…Emits. I feel like he withholds things more because he’s afraid of…Offending people? But he also likes to talk and talk and overshare. Sometimes gets off topic.

Minho: Very calm and relaxed. Like a river or ocean at night. Gentle waves, moving slowly with the flickers of light on the surface. Calming. Like the scent of the air right after it rains. But there’s also something expensive about it. Calming and easing yet also closed off. You know you shouldn’t go close or get in, no matter how much you desperately want to. Vague in the sense of only shares what’s necessary, but also speaks his mind with 0 fucks given.

Changbin: What’s the energy equivalent of mouth diarrhea? Dunno. His energy is very lively and almost childish to me? Not in a bad way, but in a sense that it’s very easily excitable and bright. Not necessarily pure, but trusting despite the damage. Like a dog. His energy reminds me of sunny green fields with flowers and bees and butterflies. I fucking hate bees but that’s beside the point. Also with a stream running through it. It reminds me of green, yellow, and the scent of nature without the animal shit.

Hyunjin: Highly depressed. Sometimes passionate and likely, sometimes down in the dumps and gloomy. It flip flops. Leader of the oversharer squad. He reminds me of the scent of rain. The sounds of rain, too. Like sitting by the window while it’s raining and the sun is setting. Curled up with a warm drink and art supplies, headphones in listening to music. That sort of vibe. It’s almost like his energy latches onto these readings to finally be able to get out how he feels and what he’s holding inside. Sometimes it also gives the vibes of when you’re so depressed, drained, and burnt out you can’t even move, or hold anything. Like you’re numb, and drifting. There’s something expensively antique about it.

Han: He reminds me of a cold bath in the best way. He over shares sometimes but also doesn’t do too much? His energy is scattered but also present. Kind of like warm, salty fries and vanilla ice cream. That’s what he reminds me of. Just sitting around anywhere, eating fries and ice cream while the world around you is still moving. Time doesn’t seem slow. It’s just right. Not fast, not slow, but just…Moving. There’s a sense of normalcy, but not in a boring way. More in a sense of contention with the world just being as is.

Felix: His energy is very warm and welcoming. Almost like when you’re a child and you’re just laying in bed with your parents, under the covers snuggled up with them and their warmth. They’re so large and you’re so small but you feel so warm and calm. Like nothing could ever happen. It’s bright and naive and innocent but not manchild-like and more…Painfully optimistic. Again like a dog. No matter how much they’re hurt, they still trust and love unconditionally, whether it’s returned or not. He shares a lot but doesn’t quite overshare? He knows what you can handle. But he also keeps things to himself. Like he doesn’t want to ruin others’ perceptions of him. He reminds me of the smell of cinnabar.

Seungmin: His energy reminds me of laying around in bed talking shit with your best friend, drinking wine and watching trashy reality TV. He shares what he wants and doesn’t share anything he doesn’t want to. Not even in a manipulative way, but in a “Why do you need to know that?” Kinda way. And I live for it. He’s blunt and doesn’t care to spare feelings. He doesn’t give a shit. There’s always a dry humor to his responses. But you can also tell he cares very deeply for people and things.

Jeongin: He reminds me of a bright sunny day in the park just walking aimlessly, talking about any and everything while you just do whatever. He’s definitely the one with the most mellow energy. Just calm and…I don’t want to say normal but normal. Not too broken or depressed but not unrealistically happy or optimistic either. Just average. Not even in a bad way. It’s very refreshing. He also readily gives information he’s comfortable giving and doesn’t give what he doesn’t wish to. He reminds me of the smell of lavender.

#kpop tarot #tarot #tarot reading #stray kids tarot #skz tarot #skz bang chan #stray kids hyunjin #lee know #lee minho #changbin #seungmin #stray kids felix #jeongin #i.n stray kids #han jisung

26 notes · View notes

knoepfl · 3 days ago

Text

Secrets in the Shadows

Characters:

Shota Aizawa (Eraser Head): Pro Hero and UA teacher, known for his stoic and pragmatic nature. Aizawa is typically cold and reserved, guarding his emotions behind a strict and disciplined exterior. However, the reader manages to breach his defenses in unexpected ways.

Reader: A bold, cunning villain with a soft spot for Aizawa. Though she often teases and challenges him, her affections for him are genuine, and she finds herself drawn to him more with each encounter.

Masterlist

Words: 762

---

Aizawa knew his apartment was supposed to be his safe haven, the one place where he could escape the constant chaos of his day-to-day life as a Pro Hero and UA teacher. But tonight, like so many other nights, he wasn’t alone.

He sensed her presence before he saw her—a whisper of movement in the shadows, the faintest creak of floorboards as she moved silently across the room. He didn’t look up from the stack of papers on his desk, his expression as calm and unreadable as ever.

"Back again?" he muttered, his voice as indifferent as he could manage.

From the corner of his eye, he saw her step into the dim light, a mischievous smile curving her lips. "Miss me, Aizawa?" she purred, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. Without waiting for an answer, she approached him, leaning over the back of his chair so her lips hovered just a few inches from his cheek.

"I was getting bored without you,” she whispered, close enough that her breath sent a chill down his spine. “A hero as serious as you shouldn’t keep a girl waiting."

He kept his gaze forward, forcing his expression to remain impassive even as his pulse quickened. It was always like this when she showed up—his emotions stirred up in ways he wasn’t used to, leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable. But he’d learned to hide it well, even from her.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said quietly, his tone flat. “You know how much trouble I could get in.”

She laughed softly, moving around to perch herself on the edge of his desk, just within reach. “Oh, don’t pretend like you don’t enjoy it,” she teased, tapping a finger against his nose. “If you really wanted me gone, I wouldn’t have gotten in here so easily. Again."

For a moment, he felt the faintest tug of a smile, but he quickly suppressed it, shifting his attention back to the paperwork in front of him. “I’m just too busy to deal with the hassle of stopping you,” he replied, his tone purposefully disinterested.

She arched an eyebrow, leaning in close to him once again. “Is that so?” She placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “Well, you can keep pretending you don’t want me here, Aizawa. But I know better.”

He froze, feeling his resolve slip ever so slightly. The warmth of her lips against his skin lingered, leaving him with a faint blush he was glad she couldn’t see in the dim light. She always found ways to slip under his guard, her gestures equal parts teasing and sincere.

With a sigh, he finally looked up, meeting her gaze directly. “Why are you here?” he asked, softer this time.

“Maybe I just wanted to see you,” she replied, her voice gentle. “To remind you that even heroes need someone to lean on.” Her eyes softened, and for a moment, he saw something vulnerable in her gaze, something he hadn’t expected from her. “I know you hide behind this tough exterior, Aizawa, but… I see through it.”

He swallowed, feeling his walls start to crumble under her gaze. She saw him in a way no one else did, and it terrified him. But it was also thrilling.

He reached out, his hand hovering for a moment before he brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. “You’re playing a dangerous game, you know,” he murmured, his voice low.

She smirked, taking his hand and lacing her fingers with his. “I’m not afraid of a little danger,” she whispered, leaning in until their faces were mere inches apart. “Especially when it comes to you.”

They stayed like that for a moment, caught in the tension of unspoken words and hidden desires. Then, with a soft sigh, he finally allowed himself to give in, his stoic expression softening as he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“I’ll never admit it,” he murmured against her skin, his voice barely above a whisper, “but you… you’re the one exception.”

Her eyes sparkled with delight, and she grinned, savoring the rare moment of vulnerability. She placed her hand on his cheek, leaning in to give him another quick kiss before pulling back with a playful smile. “I’ll take that as a victory,” she said, a satisfied glint in her eyes.

As she slipped back into the shadows, she glanced back at him one last time, winking. “See you soon, Aizawa.”

As she disappeared, he allowed himself a small smile.

22 notes · View notes