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fluentmoviequoter · 3 months

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Broken Heart Mender

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: After hearing Tim tell Angela why he's not in a relationship with you, you pull away and make yourself sick with a broken heart. After too long without hearing from you, Tim finds you and promises to make everything better.

Warnings: reader gets sick (vomiting, headache, losing weight, crying), slight miscommunication, angst to fluff & hurt/comfort

Word Count: 2.4k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

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“You know, you’re here a lot for someone who doesn’t work here,” Smitty points out.

“And you’re here a lot for someone who doesn’t work at all,” you argue playfully.

“She’s got a point,” Tim adds, shrugging at Smitty’s offended look.

You smile at Tim as you walk out, needing to return to your own station after spending too long on paperwork (to visit Tim). He’s been your friend since you were a rookie, and now he’s so much more.

You and Tim are safe places for one another; whenever one needs it, the other becomes an unlicensed therapist, a no-strings-attached hugger or cuddler on bad days, and a good listener, no matter the time or problem. Part of why you’re so willing to do such things for Tim is because you have feelings for him, a long-harbored crush that grows each time he’s kind to you or asks for your advice.

Tim, however, will happily listen to your problems and provide a shoulder to cry on, but he prefers to show his care by being what some (Angela) might call a ‘protective menace.’ He’s had feelings for you for as long as he can remember and shows it by staying close and keeping you out of harm’s way.

Whenever you run into each other at work, you find a way to stay together, and while Tim protects you, you try your hardest to make him smile. You like doing small things for him to make him happy because he deserves it. Likewise, he stays close because you deserve more than anyone can ever give you.

The only problem is that you’re both scared to let your feelings show, so you disguise it as friendship, a special bond that no one can break. Only a few people, those willing to look, can see that there’s more to your actions and words than a time-tested and bulletproof friendship.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim sighs when he sees Angela sitting at his desk.

“Don’t you have work to do?” he asks.

“You have questions to answer,” she replies, moving out of his seat and blocking the door. “I want to know about you and your friend.”

Tim rolls his eyes at her tone and air quotes. She has asked him about you before, but she’s relentless.

“Why aren’t you in a real relationship? Why haven’t you asked her out?” Angela inquires.

“Not your business, Lopez,” Tim answers.

✯✯✯✯✯

You slow as you near Tim’s office, his voice and Angela’s drawing your attention as your smile drops.

“Just tell me why you won’t let her in that last little bit,” Angela demands.

“Not that it is any of your concern, but we won’t work. We’re not made for each other, we’re not soulmates, and we will not be good for each other, not like that,” Tim snaps.

Swallowing, you feel like your heart physically drops into your stomach, making you nauseous as you fight tears. You leave before Tim or Angela notice you’re outside, unwilling to see Tim after learning how he feels.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What does that mean, Timothy?” Angela asks, quieter as she digs for the real reason.

Tim shakes his head, not ready to admit that he doesn’t consider himself relationship material. Regardless, you deserve someone better than him, though he has never considered it the other way around: you are too good for him and always have been.

“You’re right, it’s not my business. But it is hers,” Angela reminds him before leaving.

✯✯✯✯✯

Distancing yourself from Tim is hard, but after his comments to Angela, it’s what you have to do. Tim doesn’t have feelings for you and thinks you aren’t good enough, which hurts. More than your feelings, you are mentally distraught. Your emotions are all over the place, swinging aimlessly from anger to denial to an overwhelming sadness that makes it impossible to do anything but cry.

After a long night of fighting with your emotions, you try to eat breakfast and realize that the hurt is physical, too. Rushing to the bathroom, you empty your stomach before moving to the floor as your tears continue. Losing Tim is the worst pain you’ve ever experienced, and this is only the beginning.

The alarm on your phone goes off, and you pull yourself off the bathroom floor and get ready, ignoring the pain building behind your eyes and the churning sensation in the pit of your stomach. It will be a long day, but if you can power through, you will take some time off next week.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim is neck-deep in paperwork for a Metro case, but every spare second he has is spent calling and texting you. You don’t answer, and Tim can't do anything as his worry increases. He realizes Angela was right, and you deserve to know how he feels and why he keeps you so close, yet not close enough.

✯✯✯✯✯

By the end of the day, you haven’t been able to keep a single thing down, and you’re not sure if the emotional or physical pain is worse. Collapsing onto your couch, you let the tears begin anew as your week of PTO begins and your life as you know it ends.

Each day seems worse than the last, as you get sicker and sadder with each passing moment. When you summon the courage to step on the scale on Sunday morning, just three days after hearing Tim’s comments, you’ve lost a concerning amount of weight. You know it’s dangerous, but between the constant crying and the anxiety and sadness eating at you, there isn’t much you can do. There isn’t much you want to do except find a way to make yourself good enough for Tim Bradford.

✯✯✯✯✯

It’s been days since Tim heard from you, and he’s worried. When Mid-Wilshire gets called to assist your station, he hopes to see you. Tim searches the crowd of blue until he finds your partner.

“Bradford,” your partner greets.

Tim asks where you are, curious as to why you aren’t together, and your partner explains that you’ve been off work since Saturday, sick with something.

“Do you know if she’s okay?” Tim asks.

“All I know is it has to be bad for her to take this much time off,” your partner explains with an apologetic shrug before being called away.

Tim’s protectiveness kicks into overdrive, his worry keeping him from being able to focus on anything else. He finds his captain and tells him what's going on before asking if he can go check on you.

As he drives to your apartment, Tim hopes it’s not as bad as it sounds while beating himself up for not coming to visit you sooner. The ignored calls should have been a sign that something was wrong, but he let work get in the way. Though you aren’t there to hear it, Tim promises he will never neglect you again.

✯✯✯✯✯

It takes a minute to realize that the pounding sound is someone knocking and not an effect of your headache. Stumbling to the door, you answer it without checking who it is. When you see Tim’s face, you try to close the door, but you’re too weak, and Tim is too quick.

He rushes inside, looking at your pale face, unruly hair, and how your clothes hang off of you: an indicator you're unhealthily losing weight. It’s enough to push his protective side to action even as he fears the worst.

“You should go,” you tell him.

Tim ignores you, walking to your kitchen and setting water on the oven to boil. While he waits, Tim straightens up your apartment, moving quickly from room to room. He hasn’t spoken to you yet, and as you watch him, your emotions take over again.

With a few tears running down your face, you raise your voice and say his name. “You need to go.”

“No,” he answers simply. “You need help, you’re obviously sick and you’re not answering my calls.”

Tim's presence and how he acts like nothing has changed, and he’s still the protective friend he pretends to be, hurts you.

“Tim, get out!” you demand.

“Let me help,” he argues.

Shaking your head, you walk to your room and close the door, curling around your pillow as you cry. Each noise Tim makes in the kitchen feels like he’s laughing at you, and you don’t know how much more of this you can take.

He lets himself into your room after knocking, setting a mug of tea beside your bed, and rubbing your back. He notices how you stiffen but thinks it’s because you’re sick.

“What do you want to eat?” he asks.

“I want you to go.”

Tim nods, more to himself than you, and walks out of your bedroom.

You hear the door close behind him and roll over, unable to decide if you want to drink the tea or throw it at the wall.

✯✯✯✯✯

The following morning, you wake, and the first thing you remember is Tim leaving yesterday. Yes, you asked him to, but it still hurts. The cold mug beside your bed is a cruel reminder of everything you’ve lost. Rolling out of bed, you reach for the water on the nightstand. After the first drink, you race for the bathroom, wondering how long it takes for a broken heart to heal.

Someone pulls your hair out of your face, a kind hand pressed to your back as you cry. When you feel able, you lean back against the tub behind you. Tim moves back, wetting a washcloth before he kneels beside you. As he wipes your face and neck with the cool rag, you wonder what he’d do if you gave him an out.

“I heard what you said,” you admit quietly. “That we wouldn’t be good together.”

Tim slows his movements as he listens to you.

“It hurt.”

Fresh tears break over your waterline, tracking down your cheeks. Tim realizes that he’s the reason you feel so bad; that one comment made to protect his feelings, to hide them, made you feel so bad that you’re now physically sick.

“Hey,” he begins, moving to sit before you when you turn away. “Listen, I know you don’t want to believe me, but I only said that to get Angela to leave me alone, to protect myself. I don’t think that.”

“But you said it,” you point out tearily.

“I know, and I’m sorry. The truth is we wouldn’t be good together, but not because of you, never because of you. It’s me; I am not made for relationships and I’m not good enough for you.”

You choke on a sob, leaning toward Tim. He extends his arm, letting you move against his side.

“Since we met, I’ve wanted more,” he whispers against your hair. “But I was scared you’d realize I’m broken and leave… like everyone else.”

Shaking harder against his side, you cling to him as all your emotions mix. There is a chance this is a dream, but if you have to lose Tim, this seems like the best way to say goodbye.

“C’mon,” Tim urges gently, pulling you with him as he stands.

With a gentle hand on your back and one on your shoulder, Tim leads you to the couch. Covering you with a blanket, he promises to come right back. When he returns with a glass of water and a pack of crackers, you turn toward him.

“Are you going to leave?” you whisper.

Tim shakes his head. “Never.”

Nodding, you accept the crackers. After you eat a few and drink half the water Tim gave you, you sit back.

“I cleaned your apartment last night,” Tim tells you. “You want to change and clean up?”

You take a deep breath, and Tim senses your apprehension before adding, “I’ll help you.”

Taking Tim’s hand, you follow him back into your bedroom. After you change into the clothes he hands you, you sit on the bathroom vanity and let him wash your face and secure your hair.

“When’s the last time you ate? More than a few bites, I mean,” Tim asks, laying a hand on your thigh.

You shrug before admitting, “Last Wednesday.”

Tim’s jaw clenches, but he hides it with a quick nod. “I’m going to make you some more food. I know you probably don’t want to eat, and you don’t have to eat much, but you need something.”

Moving your hand onto Tim’s, you interlace your fingers with his. He leans in, releasing a chuckle when you throw your arms around his neck. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulls you to the edge of the vanity.

“I missed you,” you whisper in his ear.

“I missed you too,” he responds.

✯✯✯✯✯

As you dry the ends of your hair while you exit the bathroom, you feel like a new person.

“We need to talk,” Tim says when he sees you. Your smile falls, and Tim takes your hand. “Not like that,” he promises.

“Like what?” you ask, curling your legs under you as you sit beside him.

“I meant what I said, but I need to make sure you know that. I have feelings for you, I have for a long time, I’m just terrified to show them because I’m not good enough for you.”

Boldly, you press your finger to his lips to stop him. He raises his brows at your movement, smiling with you.

“Yes, you are. You’re more than good enough. That’s why I fell in love with you.”

Tim pulls your hand away from his face, kissing your finger as he does so. “Even though I broke your heart and made you sick?”

“Broken heart sickness is curable, and you’re a pretty good doctor,” you tease, leaning toward him.

“I promise to make it better, and never do it again.”

You nod, trusting him entirely. Now that you’ve had a shower and heard that Tim feels the same, your stomach growls.

“It’s working already,” Tim says.

“I’m hungry again,” you marvel, smiling at Tim.

“I’ll offer a trade,” Tim begins. “A home-cooked meal for you, and a kiss for me.”

You nod, but Tim adds, “And I promise never to lie to protect myself again. I’ll tell you exactly how I feel, as long as you do the same.”

“I feel like I love you, Tim Bradford,” you reply, pulling him in for the promised kiss.

Your kiss is better than he expected, and Tim loses himself in the feeling of you until your stomach growls again, and you laugh against his lips. Tim broke your heart, but he put it back together with a piece of his; the best-broken-heart-mender in the world was by your side all along.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #the rookie #requests #fem!reader

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celaenaeiln · 5 months

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Thank you so much for debunking the whole "Dick was a super angry child" thing the fandom has been pressing hard for the last few years it's one of my pet peeve characterization for him. (The other him being a Playboy) Does he get angry of course he does he's only human but he's usually very level head and even if he was the "Angry Robin" when he first started he was 8 years old and just lost his parents! I feel like anyone especially a child would be hurt and angry then but he didn't want revenge he wanted justice. He was a sweet child who just wanted to make his parents proud.

og post in question

Yes!!

Actually another anon asked me about this too a while ago - that I'll be getting back to soon - and I began writing right away but then I just couldn't. I had to put it on hold because I was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of evidence that Dick was a happy robin. Not A happy robin, THE happy robin. I was exhausted because I didn't know where to begin, there was just too much evidence. I needed to create a separate post first.

It makes me so mad when i see Angry Dick Grayson posts because it's not even an interpretation of events. There's nothing to debate, there's no doubt, there's no question, there's no confusion, there's nothing to contest - HE WASN'T AN ANGRY ROBIN.

Jason says it himself! And unlike people in the fandom who've never read a comic in their life but like running their mouth off, he would actually know because he studied Dick. He watched all of Dick's videos when he was Robin. 11 years worth of videos. And this is what he says about Dick's robin:

Suicide Squad: Get Joker Issue #1

Jason straight up says that Dick was the happy robin. And that's just Jason. There's still Tim, Damian, Bruce, Alfred, Clark, the Justice League, and the Titans who talk about it.

Frankly it boggles my mind when I hear people who write takes say that Dick was an angry robin because even if they've never read any of the robin comics, they should at least know what he was like from what the adult characters say right? Did they really never stop and wonder why Jason keeps talking about not being Dick when he argues with Bruce? Or why Tim was so obsessed with Dick aside from knowing him from the circus? Or why Bruce writes entire monologues about how Dick saved him? Or why Alfred goes on massive rants about how Dick was the best thing ever to happen to Bruce and him or why he started crying and mourning when Dick merely left as Robin? Did no one stop to consider when they started going around saying he wasn't happy?

Honestly Angry Robin Dick Grayson characterization is a black hole of logic and intelligence.

The reason it became so popular is because it's a logical fallacy and logical fallacies sound convincing. This particular argument is the hasty generalization logical fallacy. Hasty generalization is when a statement is made after one or two examples rather than relying on extensive research to back up a claim.

For example: I got sick after eating pizza from Aleano's. Therefore, I must be allergic to pizza.

Proponents of angry robin dick characterization choose one example from decades of writing to claim that he was angry after his parents died which-seriously? Besides you'll start to notice that people who write those takes will never provide evidence because it's near possible to find something that doesn't exist. Sure one or two out of context photos might be provided but that's the best they can do to support that type of characterization. As much as we wish we were magicians from Hogwarts, no amount of wishing is going to transfigure the hundreds of comics filled with happy robin to him being an angry monster.

Also it's ridiculous that type of character because they're saying that if he's upset that his parents died, then he's an angry character. But if the Joker's happy that random people died, then he's a psycho. What do they want?! And that's not even the whole truth of it either. Dick was massively sad more than he was angry. He was taken away from his circus family and is left alone like all the time now. His life changed in a second - he's depressed. But he was able to work through it and that's how Robin was created.

Dick was not Robin when he went after Tony Zucco. The reason Bruce made him Robin was specifically because he admitted he didn't want Tony Zucco dead.

The problem is people sometimes hyperfocus so much on one detail that they forget the big picture. They centered 11 years of Robin characterization around one moment.

Let's get the facts straight. Robin is a success story. The greatness of Dick wasn't just that he was the smart, the best of the ages, and the greatest athelete - no. His greatness is that he is able to move. ON. He can do what Bruce never could. He could move on and take his parents death and turn it into something positive. He was able to overcome grief and not dwell in the past.

That's why he was able to be happy. That's why Bruce couldn't. And that's why Bruce needed Dick because Dick made him happy.

Alfred says this about Dick as Robin -

Robin: Year One Issue #1

"The addition of Dick Grayson into the Master's crusade has made a difference in him." "I do believe I saw him smile. There have been occasions in the pantry when I could just discern the muffled sounds of laughter echoeing up from that dreadful cavern beneath the manor."

People don't seem to understand. Alfred never approved Bruce's tenure as Batman. He loathed it so much he punched Bruce for it. It was Dick's light and goodness that changed Bruce's mind because he saw how happy Dick made him and how happy of a child he himself was.

And Dick? He never changed his personality in or out of costume.

Robin: Year One Issue #2

"He doesn't seem to struggle to lead a normal adolescence." "He's had no need to develop the masquerade that Master Bruce felt necessary." "His personality remains the same with or without the mask and boots. "

He's not the troubled kid some people seem to think he is. He wasn't mean or selfish or cast aside or raging moodily in a corner. Actually in the Batman (1940) and Detective Comics, he was seen as a role model for how helpful and kind he was. He was actually the one who went out of his way to help troubled kids because of his kindness, goodness, and empathy.

Checkmate (2006) Issue #14

Checkmate is a member of Task Force X under Amanda Waller and an ally of Batman's. She knows him. She knows what Dick was to him and Dick even mourns about the time when Bruce used to be happy. It was his joy and personality that did that.

Of course my argument isn't to be taken one sidedly saying he was constantly happy 24/7, all the time, in every occasion - no. Emotions are a spectrum and no one feels one emotion all the time. Thats silly. But, your personality outlook is based on what you feel most of the time. Dick sometimes got angry, sometimes got sad, etc. But in a dichotomy between happy and angry there is no doubt, no question, that he was overwhelmingly on the happy side.

There's a reason why everyone calls him happy. It's because for an overwhelming majority of the time, he was the happy robin.

52 Issue #25

Way back in the Batman (1940) comic Dick says, "I became Robin, history's first sidekick. And there I was, the laughing boy daredevil--"

Batman and Robin (2009) Issue #9

You can call him crazy, excitable, feral, overexcellent, etc. But never forget that Bruce once went insane after locking himself in a simulator that emulated Robin Dick Grayson's joy.

The incontestable truth - Dick was a happy robin.

#dick grayson #robin dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #robin jason todd #bruce wayne #batman #alfred pennyworth #cyril sheldrake #knight #batman dick grayson #checkmate #cl confusedhummingbird asks #thanks for the ask!#biggest pet peeve

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depravitycentral · 9 months

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im sorry if this is a lame ask, but i just had the idea and thought i would share it to see if it would strike any inspo! of course on this blog you’ve talked about all the things our beloved troupe members are into, but have you ever considered what their absolute turn offs are? like things that pull them out of the mood almost immediately? or kinks that would seem to fit certain members, but end up not being their thing for one reason or another

Ooh yes anon this strikes inspo !!

This is a good point - it's all fine and dandy to imagine sex with your yandere as being so bad but so good, as if they know every secret, dirty kink and fantasy you have. (That's because they do know, whether through extensive stalking, pouring through your search histories, or raw, natural sexual chemistry with you. They all think they've got that last one, but normally any positive sexual encounters between the two of you will be a consequence of the former two rather than the latter.)

But of course, everyone has turn offs, and while your yandere would be willing to do pretty much anything to please you, even the most obsessed, unhinged yanderes have a few hard, fast exceptions.

I'm assuming you meant just hxh yanderes for this, so let's proceed moving forward with that in mind! If you meant for another fandom, please let me know and I'd be happy to discuss those yanderes too <3

Let's discuss !!

(Tw for petnames, watersports, recording, anal, pegging, crying, hitting, and other smutty things)

Chrollo Lucilfer is pretty hard to frazzle in bed, and is one of those who have done extensive, eager research into both your own personal sexual preferences, and made educated guesses on kinks that seem to correlate with ones he already knows you possess. That said, Chrollo himself isn't especially risky in bed - he'll indulge you, sure, but he doesn't have a strong desire to try anything especially crazy unless you're a big fan. And while he'll let you have your fun (particularly in the beginning of your sexual relationship, just because promising you that he'll choke you or dominate you or whatever else you may like just to get you into bed with him and somewhat willing, just because he needs to pleasure you and get you warming up to him) , most of the time sex with him is quite vanilla. He's open to listening to whatever you want, with one very, very large exception: there is no amount of pleading or bargaining that will let you peg him. He doesn't inherently believe that men should always be dominant over women, but he does believe that he should always be dominant over you. And if you were to peg him, this power structure would collapse, allowing you too much control over both his pleasure and him. He doesn't mind being in a more physically submissive position (he'll never deny you when you straddle him and tell him that you're in charge for the evening, the only response you get being a twinkle in his eye, a soft smirk and a hummed we will see, my love), but the idea of you fucking him just rubs him the wrong way. He's more vulnerable with you than he is anyone else, but Chrollo has his limits. (Besides, the idea of absolutely falling apart for you is both alluring and terrifying, because the moment you discover his prostate, he'll be a gasping mess, his cheeks tinged a light pink and his grip on the sheets below him very, very tight. It would be embarrassing, and he can't allow you to see him in such a weak position - it would derail all the hard work he's done to convince you that you need him.)

Feitan Portor really detests being called Daddy. He thinks it's weird, and even if you - sweet, perfect, irritatingly attractive you - were to say it, he still wouldn't like it. There's just something about it that rubs him the wrong way - it feels too paternal, and while he doesn't remember having a family in any biological capacity, it still just makes his skin crawl. He won't get soft immediately upon hearing you say it (he's always just slightly hard when you're in his vicinity, so rarely ever is he truly flaccid around you), but he'll need to pull out and take a breather, mentally trying to erase the sound of the petname rolling off your tongue. He can deal with other petnames - he'd be okay with sir, if only because he's always kind of had a thing for roleplaying, or at least having some sort of overarching power dynamic present during sex, and being called sir would place him in a position of absolute authority, meaning he could do whatever he wants to you and you'd just obediently obey. (You already kind of do, too scared to say no to him, but it doesn't feel as authentic - he feels less comfortable, more vulnerable and exposed and raw, and he doesn't like that.) You could even call him master if you really wanted to - similarly, it feeds his desire for playing a powerful, dominant role, but he doesn't have any sort of particularly liking towards maid costumes or anything of the sort, so it wouldn't do too much for him. He's good with nearly anything else you could throw at him, but never Daddy. Frankly, he really just prefers his own, actual name - it just sounds so damn good when you gasp it, the sound going straight to both his cock and heart.

Phinks Magcub's brows always get pinched and his lips quirk down when he thinks about the idea of you bleeding during sex. It makes his hands itch, this protectiveness welling up inside him that makes him antsy and nervous and jittery, the energy all pent up and needing to be released because god, he doesn't like seeing you hurt. Even if it makes you feel good, your moans increasing because of the pain twinged pleasure, he's unwilling to indulge you - he couldn't bring himself to purposefully make you bleed, and while he does occasionally (often) leave you bruised and incredibly sore after having his way with you, that's a whole different thing from seeing that crimson color against your pretty skin. It just makes him uncomfortable - if you asked nicely enough he'd consider maybe lightly slapping you or getting rough with you (though he's already pretty rough when he gets lost in the moment - finger shaped bruises litter your body and hickeys dance along your collarbone and neck), but he'll draw the line at drawing blood. (Similarly, he doesn't really want to bleed himself either, but he'd be more willing to be in the position of pain than putting you into that position of pain. Besides, it might help him last longer, the pleasure warded off by negative stimulation - and god knows Phinks needs all the help he can get in delaying his orgasms.)

Uvogin is pretty adventurous in bed, all things considered, but even he has a few hard turn offs, one of which being degrading you. He doesn't mind calling you needy or possessive terms of endearment, but anything with even a slight negative connotation is always preceded by a 'my', so that when he's calling you a slut it always becomes my slut. Even then, he doesn't like doing this - his natural default when he's naked with you is to be praising you, because those are honestly the thoughts running through his mind when he's got his hands on you and he's feeling your soft skin against his. He genuinely only has good, lustful, reverent things to say about your body and the fact that he's getting to touch, kiss, squeeze, and fuck you, and he's not shy about telling the truth. And so, if you were to request for him to degrade you a bit in bed or be a little meaner, he'll oblige, but it'll feel just slightly forced, his words not holding their usual deep, growling timber that always sends shivers down your spine. He ends up compromising by mixing praise and degradation, but absolutely destroying you with his thrusts and well placed circles on your clit, channeling all the harsh, humiliating energy of verbal degradation instead into how he assaults your body with an overwhelming amount of pleasure. He just doesn't like the idea of lying to you, even if it turns you on in this context, because it just feels wrong to tell you that you're only a hole for me to fuck, and holes don't talk. You're not - you're so much more than that, and he doesn't want you to think otherwise. Hell no, not with all the work he's put into making you get comfortable with him and want him. One roll around on the liviing room floor (he'd gotten impatient and didn't feel like making the thirty step journey to the bedroom) isn't worth reversing months worth of warming you up to him. Not even if you leave his back scratched up or end up so stuffed full of his cum that you're literally leaking.

Nobunaga Hazama is, frankly, just thankful and elated that you're touching him. He's delusional, compeltely out of touch with reality, and fucking weird, but he's also a major sap and literally gets heart eyes everytime he sees you. And so, in the bedroom he wants everything to be as close and sensual as possible, and for every bit of pleasure and love shared between the two of you to be expressed in full. This, of course, includes any and all noises he draws out of you - that is, Nobunaga has to have you gasping and keening and moaning. He's loud himself, and he expects sex to be full of wanton cries and a cacophany of sound; one that you are expected to eagerly contribute to. And if you don't deliver? Well, Nobunaga will just try harder, licking at your faster or thrusting harder or pinching tighter - anything and everything to get you to make a damn sound, to give stop him from having to confront the reality that you aren't enjoying this nearly as much as he is. He gets turned off when you're quiet, which is a real bummer if you aren't naturally loud - you have to be, because he won't quite until you are, even if that takes hours and hours and hours.

Alternatively, Franklin Bordeau can tell when you're faking it, and he doesn't like that. At all. He doesn't want your forced moans or fabricated shaking or anything that isn't real - he wants you, your genuine reactions to his touch, and your genuine personality in bed. He doesn't want you to sound like some pornstar - with your moans constant and high and shrill and more pained than pleasured - for two main reasons, the first of which being that it's just annoying. He's never understood the allure of a woman screaming during sex, and even in the context of actual, real pleasure, it still makes him uncomfortable. It's too close to the sounds he hears when he's working a heist - he doesn't want you to sound like them, because he has no intentions of hurting you and just the mere thought of you bloodied is enough to get him soft immediately and clutching onto you like you'll disappear any moment. The second reason why he doesn't want you to be forcing anything is because although he's decently confident in his sexual abilities, he knows he isn't making you feel that good. He's sure him fingering you isn't capable of getting you gasping and whining his name constantly - sure, it feels good, and you'll probably moan and sigh, but still. When he's fucking you, he's hopeful that you'll cry out his name, but he knows you shouldn't be screaming and rythmically, shrilly moaning. He values honesty, and hearing your real, raw reactions to his touch and his presence feels a thousand times more pleasurable than anything you could ever forcibly manufacture - especially your orgasms. He can always tell when you're faking, so don't try it. Don't.

Honestly, it's pretty difficult to get Shalnark turned off. He's kinky, adventurous, and misinterprets a lot of your responses during sex - he likes to think you're just as wild as he is, and even when you clearly don't like something, he still thinks seeing you struggle is just as arousing. (Besides, most of the time he will get you to orgasm - and seeing the internal dilemma of hating what he's doing alongside the pleasure you can't hold back is absolutely delicious.) That said, there are very specific situations that Shalnark doesn't find any attraction in - specifically, he absolutely is not willing to be cucked. Having another person in the room while he fucks you hard enough to make you cry isn't a problem at all - on the contrary, he's very, very interested in that idea, because having another man watch him claim you makes both his possessiveness and nostrils flare, his palms getting sweaty and his pants feeling tight. Cucking, on the other hand, implies that there's someone else touching you - another person sullying you, getting their disgusting hands on your perfect skin that's all his his his, and that's just simply unacceptable. He didn't go through all that trouble of kidnapping you and keeping you in a secure location just to have you touched, fucked, loved by another man. It doesn't matter if it's a stranger or someone Shalnark trusts with his life - you will not be getting intimate with another soul for the rest of your life, simply because he firmly sees you as his property, and him yours. So don't even bother bringing the idea up - he'll fuck you in front of the stranger, no problem, but they're prohibited to strictly watching. (Or, maybe, they'd be good at helping get those camera angles that are really tough to capture - right up in your face, or right zoomed into where his length - flushed red and swollen - is sinking into you over and over, the home video the perfect thing to watch tonight as he cuddles you to sleep.)

Alternatively, Machi Komacine can't stomach the thought of doing anything public. It's not that she fears getting caught, but rather that it makes her uncomfortable that anyone could see the two of you. Someone could just pass by and happen to get an eyeful of you - your pretty skin and curves, your lovely body that her eyes always seem to get stuck on, watching, wanting, yearning. She's not spontaneous in any way when it comes to sex, and she just doesn't see the allure of the risk or danger involved. She's too possessive; it takes her so long to even allow herself to see you naked, and to have a stranger do that and even see your face while she's pleasuring you, while you're coming? The thought makes her nen flare up, the urge to wrap you in her arms and keep the world from even catching a glimpse of you only growing stronger. Even aside from her possessiveness, the idea of doing something where others could see you makes her nervous, too, because Machi isn't entirely confident in her abilities to actually please you in the bedroom. Sure, she understands female anatomy and has a good sense of what you like from all that stalking, but actually doing it? That's a different thing entirely - and the pressure of pleasing you coupled with the pressure of other people potentially watching her struggle makes her feel uncomfortable, a foreign, heavy sense of self doubt settling heavily in her gut. It's just not for her - sex belongs in the bedroom, or perhaps the couch or kitchen table. Not outside of your 'shared' apartment, and certainly not where someone else could get an eyeful of what's hers.

Pakunoda will still jump on the opportunity to pleasure you and be pleasured, but in general she'll be hesitant if the both of you are still fully clothed. She doesn't see the appeal of clothed sex - she wants you completely bared to her, utterly raw, your body on display for her to worship and touch and mark. She thinks keeping the clothing on is not only impractical, but diminishes the intimacy between the two of you. You'll get all sorts of sticky, hard to clean things staining the clothes, and because she can be a little snobby about materialistic delights like luxury clothing, she's not exactly keen on getting your slick all over her nice clothes. (Although, she wouldn't be entirely opposed to having your slick all over her skin, like you're leaving a mark of possession on her. Just not the clothes.) Clothes stop her from being able to fully explore your body, and, as much as she'd never admit it, when you have your clothing on it makes it much harder to use her nen on you. That is, while it makes her feel a little dirty and slimy, she will be using her ability to dig into your memories for any information on your kinks and fantasies, just because she wants to make sex as perfect and pleasurable for you as she possibly can. So shed the layers with her - it makes things so much better. Plus, the sight of you bare and squirming underneath her, looking all pretty and submissive and cute is certainly a drool worthy sight.

All things considered, Shizuku Murasaki is actually kind of picky about sex. She likes things to be her way or the highway, and as her darling you'll be forced to go along with all of her preferences and wants. And while she loves all things oral, there are a few things she's absolutely unwilling to do. Namely, while she worships you and cherishes you as much as a mass-murderer can, she will not indulge you in anything involving your asshole. It's a cleanliness thing for her; she knows you're clean (she'd just bathed with you this morning and personally hand washed you, paying very, very careful attention to your cunt), but she has a mental block against having her mouth anywhere near that part of you. She's always felt this way with every partner she's had - she just doesn't understand the allure of anal, whether that be fingering, oral, or penetration. She'd much, much rather pay attention to other areas of your body - your pussy, your thighs, your breasts, your mouth. She'll always shy away when she's got her face between your legs, but unfortunately for you, this courtesy does not extend to you too. She doesn't expect you to do anything with her ass, but she certainly won't stop you if you're getting too close, or if you get the desire. She'll just blink at you and tell you to be careful, then pull your head in by your hair and get you closer and closer and closer, enjoying the experience despite herself. Shizuku is a little hypocritical in a lot of aspects in sex, but this is one particular area where she's absolutely unfair.

Hisoka Marrow is a freak in every sense of the word. Genuinely, there is very, very little you could do that would cause him to fall out of the mood, or to rid him of the insistant, raging boner nearly everything you do gives him. He'll try anything once, and he firmly believes in keeping your sex life interesting and varied. That said, he certainly has preferences, and one thing that sits quite low on his list of preferred bedroom activities is to be worshipped. It's not that he doesn't want your attention and praise (he does, urgently), but rather that there's something about the position of being the one drowned in compliments and confessions of love that makes him a little uncomfortable. Perhaps it's because he's not used to being in such a submissive, vulnerable position, or maybe it's because he doesn't feel like he's got enough control of the situation. It doesn't really matter, because Hisoka will always send teasing remarks your way when you get the courage to be the dominant one, and that will almost always derail you enough to get you steering away from any territory that gets dangerously close to becoming too vulnerable and real for him. He loves you in his own twisted, strange way, but he's not ready to open himself up fully to you, to let you take full charge and just take care of him. He may never be ready, really, so any dreams you have of fully dominating him and reducing him to a trembling, fucked out mess will have to remain just that - dreams.

In general, Illumi Zoldyck will try most things you suggest. It's not that he's especially adventurous in the bedroom, but rather that you're the first person he's ever had any sexual contact with, and everything with you feels good, so he wants to try it all. He has very few boundries when it comes to you, and so consequently, there aren't too many things that turn him off. However, he does have two surefire things that he'll immediately and vehemently outright refuse. Firstly, he will absolutely not wear any protection. He turns his nose at the thought of condoms, and will only laugh in your face if you suggest using them for obvious reasons. He will be entering you in the most natural way possible, and he will be finishing as deeply inside of you as he can manage. Secondly, he absolutely will not allow another person to be involved in your sex life. There will be no third person in your bed, no other person for you to be pleasuring and be pleasured by. There is only you and Illumi - it's your sex life, and it makes his possessiveness flare up to dangerous proportions to imagine another person seeing you in such a vulnerable, intimate position. So really, don't even bother bringing up the idea - he won't even consider it, already shooting it down before you're finished getting the sentence out. (And after he finishes lecturing you about how another man or woman has no place in your bed, he'll promptly fuck you right then and there - no matter where you are - just to prove his point. He's all you need, after all.)

Sex with Kurapika Kurta is soft and sensual. It can be a little rougher if he's had a particularly bad day, or if he's recently had a run in with the Troupe, but for the most part he makes love rather than fucks. And because of this, he really, really doesn't like seeing you cry during sex. It makes him uncomfortable, his instincts begging him to comfort you and eliminate whatever caused your tears. He associates crying with the early days of when he'd kidnapped you, back when you were still terrified of him and much too scared to even stand to look at him, much less allow him to touch you. And particularly in the context of sex, he does not want to be reminded of all the horrible things he's done to you - things are good now, happy, and you've finally come around to the idea that he loves you, that you'll spend the rest of your life with him. And so, the moment there are tears beading at your eyes, he's immediately going soft, his palms cupping your cheeks as he stares wildly at you, asking in a rushed, still breathless voice if you're alright, if you're hurt, if you're upset and who he needs to kill to right this wrong. He overreacts, and it always, always turns into either self hatred aimed at himself for ruining your happiness, or a bloodthirsty desire to kill whoever is upsetting you. The only exception to his hatred of you crying is when it's done because you're too overstimulated, the pleasure too much for you to even process. When you're so fucked out from the pleasure he gave you, then the tears are acceptable. He still doesn't like them all that much, but it's at least a sign that he's treating you well, that he's able to make you feel good and pleasured, and it makes pride swell in his chest. So in general, try not to cry in front of him - he goes flaccid in mere seconds, his protective nature ramping up and any semblance of sexiness gone immediately.

When Leorio Paradinight has you in bed, he's almost in a state of utter awe, almost unable to really process what's going on. He's just so incredibly aroused by you, even if you're just laying beside him with your clothes fully on, and because of this he's game to try pretty much anything you want in bed. He's genuinely just so fucking excited to be with you that he'll do basically anything you want, no matter how degrading or gross or off the wall. That said, however, he doesn't really understand the appeal of pet play. He doesn't harbor any fantasies of you donning a set of bunny ears or a tail or anything of the sort, simply because he doesn't really like fantasies that change you, even if it's something as trivial as your ears. He thinks of you as perfection, and that includes every proportion of your body, every freckle, mole, hair and blemish you could have, and he doesn't want to pretend that you aren't exactly who - and what - you are. Besides, he just doesn't see the appeal; he wants you to talk and moan for him when he's touching you, not have you purr or whine or any other animal noise. He thinks it's a little weird, if he's being honest, and while he'll begrudgingly agree if you beg him to try it out (he'll do anything to see you smile, after all), his orgasm won't come as pathetically easily as normal. This extends to pet play where he's the one dressing up as a pet, too - he's more likely to enjoy it this way, but there's something humiliating about the butt plug tail and the fox ears, and it's humiliating in all the wrong ways. He's just not too big of a fan - now if you wanted to get some sort of ownership roleplay going that didn't involve pets or animals, he'd be all over that - the moment you refer to yourself as mommy or his mistress, he's practically creaming his pants, getting on his knees for you and begging for you to touch him. (And maybe even step on him, depending on how needy he's feeling that day.)

Razor, despite sometimes losing control in bed and getting a little rougher than he means to, will never willingly hit you in bed. He doesn't like the idea of slapping you. He might gently pat your ass when you're bouncing on top of him, but it's only just enough to make you yelp, only enough to make a slight smack noise of skin against skin. Hitting you - even in the context of sexual pleasure - reminds him too much of his younger days, back when he was a criminal and was much less controlled, much more dangerous. And really, that's the last thing he wants you to see him as - he wants you to take comfort in him, to want him to hold you and touch you, and he's sure that even if you want him to get rough with you and manhandle you, to smack your cheek and tell you to behave for him, you will start associating him with pain and violence. And he just can't have that - not after all the work he's gone through to prove that despite kidnapping you, he's not the monster you think he is. (Besides, there's just something more meaningful about softer, sweeter sex - he's fucked more women than he'd care to admit, but you're the first one he's gone slow with, the first one he's really taken his time with. And while it might be stupid, that makes you different in his eyes - like he's saved something special for you, like the passionate, romantic side of him that comes out when he's got you naked and stretched out on his fingers is something only you'll ever get to see.)

Another man who tries to keep things a bit vanilla in the bedroom (not for the same reasons as Razor, but rather because he just genuinely prefers more intimate and tame sex) is Knuckle, who can't stand the thought of recording your intimate times. He does objectively think the idea is a bit hot, but he's too worried that somehow the recordings will get leaked, that somehow other people will get their hands on precious recordings of him making love to you, of him making you moan and sigh and fall apart on his tongue and fingers and cock. He views the time you both spend together in the sheets as being almost sacred, like something special that's reserved only for the two of you, and having a camera rolling would just make everything feel too impersonal. It would make him nervous, too, because he'd want to rewatch the tapes with you just so he can see your face the whole time (he tends to lose himself the closer he gets to his orgasm, and always buries his face in your neck to try and make himself last longer, so he misses seeing your facial expressions when he's finishing inside you), but he'd be worried about the way he looks, about whether he looks attractive to you, dominant to you, sexy to you. However, despite his reservations about recording himself fucking you, he will photograph you in the pretty, feminine lingerie he buys for you. He'll get a new color or cut, and have you try on the set, posing for the camera while he takes a few shots, his pants visibly straining around his swollen cock because god, you look good. He'll keep the photographs in his pants pocket and never, ever share them, always looking back at them when he's away on missions and missing you. He's a bit hypocritical, but the moment a camera gets trained on him, he's turning red and clamming up.

Morel is another one who's very flexible in the bedroom, and would be difficult to completely turn off. However, one thing that Morel just simply can't get behind is watersports. He'll try it, if you really beg him to, but he just doesn't like it. It feels unsanitary to him (and god, the mess), but even beyond that it just feels a little degrading, and not in a good way. If you really, really pushed him on it, he'd give in and do as you please, reluctantly forcing himself to release onto you, but the entire time he'd be feeling guilty, discomfort eating at him because isn't it horribly disrespectful to be literally pissing on you? He loves you, and it just sits wrong with him. He'll refuse after that first time, and while he's not particularly into it, if you really, really wanted to, he'd let you reverse the roles. He's not particularly eager to have you wet yourself or piss on him, but that's better because now at least you're the one in the position of power. Plus, you're begrudgingly a little cute when you get all embarrassed about it. But still, it's most definitely not something he desires, and while he'd entertain your fantasies once in a blue moon, it certainly won't be a regular occurrence in your sex life together.

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f1crecs · 4 months

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Fic Rec List - The Best of 2023

Happy New Year's Eve! Or New Year's Day, depending on where in the world you are right now. What a year it has been - for the sport and the fandom and for this blog right here.

I (Briony) started this blog in June, after a horrific bout of writer's block took away my writing skills. The only thing I love more than writing is reading, and so I decided to funnel my newly gained fandom time into cataloguing all of the wonderful things that I have read over the last few years, in the form of fic rec lists. My wonderful team of fic rec volunteers joined me at the end of October, and we have been collating the lists together ever since.

Thank you so much to everyone who follows, reblogs, likes, and comments on these lists, and an extra special thank you to everyone who shares that love with the writers themselves, in the form of comments, kudos, and bookmarks. You are amazing, and you make the fandom tick. Thank you.

Please find below the team's favourite fics of 2023! This is just like the FIA Gala, except slightly less glamorous and probably can't be used as a plot device in an F1 fanfiction.

These are the fics that really touched us - that stood out, and took our breaths away, and made us cry and laugh and curse. To these authors, and to everyone who has shared their talents with us this year - thank you.

Enjoy. And have a wonderful 2024. ❤️

Esteban/Pierre

nsfw: my thumb's on your teeth by @geluksalig | E | 14.7k @lydia-petze's favourite fic of 2023 Esteban experiences hyperrealistic dreams of a parallel life where he and Pierre have been together since they were teenagers, and neither of them race any more. He gradually becomes more and more disoriented by them as the twin realities begin to blur. This fic is so well done, with twin timelines wound together seamlessly. The grief for a life that never was, that might have been, is palpable. There are clues scattered throughout, however, that there may yet be time to fix things. Pierre's characterisation, as seen through Esteban's eyes, is wonderful - passionate and ferociously protective.

'Pierre presses his lips together, nodding though Esteban knows he is unconvinced, disbelieving. He looks off to the side, and Esteban gets that tense feeling in his gut, like he knows Pierre would claw a hole in his chest to tempt God close with the affliction, just so the rest of them might be sheltered in the shadow that falls just behind. He’s never been sure how to tell him that he doesn’t have to.'

Daniel/Max, Charles/Pierre

nsfw: hook, line, sinker by @chubbydino | M | 92k (wip) @wanderhobbit's favourite fic of 2023 Pierre wishes he could remember, Max wishes he could forget. What I enjoyed: maybe enjoyed isn’t the right word but his fic is heart wrenchingly beautiful. Following the story lines with the two couples and those story lines connecting is beautiful.

'"I love being married to you,” Max said quietly as he pulled on another curl. Daniel dropped his phone on his chest and tilted his head back to look at him. “Oh yeah?” Max’s whole body buckled at the gentleness in his tone. Daniel always knew when he was getting close to a breakdown, when fear and guilt and shame started building up like storm clouds in his head. He nodded. “Yeah. I love you.” Daniel gave him an upside-down smile. “You wanna tell me what’s going on, Max?”'

Charles/Max

nsfw: All The Lights (Couldn't Put Out The Dark) by @fabbyf1 | E | 7.5k @frickinsweet's favourite fic of 2023 Charles needs someone to help him calm down – when his usual partner is indisposed he asks Max instead. For me this fic was the definition of the "this better not awaken anything in me" meme, not so much for the particular kink but for the dynamics. I was relatively new to F1 rpf when I read this and the characterizations of both Max and Charles became the "canon" that I compared every fic to for a while. The Charles in this fic is very hard on himself, tying himself in to knots with anxiety and when he gathers up the courage to ask Max for help he is immediately in to it and never reacts negatively despite the unusal request. This is tagged as PWP (although if one reads the whole series, which I highly suggest, there is definitely plot) and the smut is very much brain meltingly hot but the reason I choose it as my favourite read of 2023 is for the way the characters and their dynamic is so perfectly described - especially Charles who is the POV and whose internal dialogue is a special treat in this fic.

'There was really only one other person he could turn to in these trying times. That’s how he ended up in Max’s room, asking him for a “favor.” “What kind of favor do you need?” Max asked, smiling so openly at him that it hurt Charles' head slightly. He was so quick to offer up his services when he didn’t even know what Charles was about to ask him'

my thoughts will echo your name by witchee_writer | M | 38.9k @blueballsracing's favourite fic of 2023 When Max retires, he decides his next accomplishment to win is Le Mans. His partners are no other than Charles Leclerc and Sebastian Vettel. I loved the cute little quips each character had and the tension! This made me smile and was an amazing rollercoaster of a fic. So much flirting and it's also a Red Bull Charles fic, which I love ❤️

'Sebastian's eyes zeroed in on Max, and then Charles. His grin widened (dangerous). 'Are you here to save me from two idiots with a decade worth of sexual tension?''

nsfw: you and me, we got big reputations by lady_something | E | 93.4k @maaxverstappen's favourite fic of 2023 After publicly coming out when Max won his 3rd championship, Charles and Max have to navigate the consequences of being together. It affects both the dynamic with their own teams and each other, and lends to issues with races in not-so-LGBT-friendly countries. I loved how realistic this was. The author really dove into the real life f1 consequences of a coming out and didn’t shy away from it. Charles and Max love each other so dearly and deeply but also love this sport just as much, and that makes for a great plot driven story. The other characters in this fic add a lot and it feels very found family. This fic had me thinking about it for days after and I was so sad to finish it as I could stay in the universe forever. One of my top fics in general, let alone for 2023! (also, this is for the rbr!charles fans (iykyk))

“So, if you are really, truly worried that we cannot handle it, then I will retire. You mean more to me than another Championship does. I have already done what I need to, I have paid back the debts I owe to my father and my family, and I have won some for me, too. It’s enough. I have the GT3 team, I have iRacing, I want to compete in the WEC. I do not need F1, not like I need you.” # “You—you—you—” Charles looks completely gobsmacked. “Oh my god. Mon Dieu. Max. Max.” Max barely manages to stop Charles from crushing the eggs as he surges forward, plastering his whole body against Max’s as he grabs his face and kisses him.

Charles/Pierre

A Two-Man Cult by @moonlight0starlighte | T | 23.7k @singsweetmelodies' favourite fic of 2023 Charles has always thought he's a beta, but then he suddenly presents as an omega after a night out with Pierre. The consequences for their friendship are devastating when Charles tries to keep this a secret from Pierre. Of course, Pierre finds out anyway, and the two of them have a massive fight - which ends in Charles going into withdrawal after what he perceived as a rejection from his alpha. This fic redefines "angst with a happy ending" - but it is so worthwhile when they finally do get to the happy ending. I love this fic for a variety of reasons, the fantastic angst-with-a-happy-ending slow-burn friends-to-lovers of it all being a big one of them. But more than that, I remember reading this one chapter-by-chapter as it came out, and being so unbelievably hooked, texting everyone about the next update. The writing style is just so engaging, and the story the author tells is so gripping, intense and wonderful. It will also always hold a special place in my heart, because it's the first proper a/b/o fic I read, and probably the fic that got me hooked on the genre. It truly is a masterpiece in so many ways. <3

"What are you thinking?" Pierre's lids flutter closed and he sinks into the warmth of Charles' hands as he brings it to his cheek, lips pressed against warm skin as he answers, "I just can't believe I get to have this."

nsfw: chassis by @hourcat | E | 50.7k @welightitup's favourite fic of 2023 Charles is a part-time art professor/part-time kindergarten teacher with car issues. Pierre is a mechanic. It’s an amazing AU, one I don’t think that had been done before. But wow, it’s so hot too! Expect tension, teasing, flirting, and hot garage/car sex.

'Charles is special, anyway. It’s not even a question. He’s different from anyone Pierre has met in his ten years here, and Pierre really does like him more than he probably should, for someone he really doesn’t know at all. He teaches kindergarten and is passionate about it. He’s got a decent apartment, although he hasn’t seen much of it outside of the bedroom. He’s got shit taste in cars. But somehow, deeper, Pierre feels like he knows him.'

Carlos/Charles

nsfw: my blood is singing with your voice (the saints can't help me now) by @7msc | E | 13.2k @boxboxbrioche's favourite fic of 2023 Carlos meets Charles in a half-finished church. I have already rec'ed this one before, but I just had to share it again for the 2023 roundup. This story truly moved me. It is ethereal and lyrical and I still remember it so clearly, even though it's been months since I read it for the first time. Simply gorgeous.

'He felt like he was cheating. Was he? Well, a church was any place where he could feel God. And he felt God in Mallorca. In Costa dels Pins. In Son Servera. (In his mom’s loving hands. In Blanca’s kind brown eyes, the same shade as his. In Ana’s conniving smile. In his father’s heavy arm across his shoulders. In his grandma’s thin fingers, hands almost too delicate, wrapped around his.)'

#pairing:charles/max #pairing:charles/pierre #pairing:esteban/pierre #pairing:carlos/charles #driver:charles #driver:carlos #driver:max #driver:daniel #pairing:daniel/max #driver:esteban

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tartagliad · 3 months

Note

hey!! thanku sooo much for doing my request i love it!!! i have a thing for angst so i will request another one!. so can you make part two gn!reader who gets the urge to hurt themselves whenever they got stressed or (in my case) got anxiety attacks? with al'haitham (who has some difficults to deal with since it doesn't happen often), ayato, kaveh, and childe!

aww.. tysm!! I'm so happy that you loved it 🥺.. alright! your request is accepted, I hope you also liked this one ^^ hehe. have a great day, and thank you for the request (✿◠‿◠)

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Comfort and Stress

Summary: the title says it all, a part two to this

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Characters: Alhaitham, Ayato, Kaveh, & Childe

G/N reader!

Warnings: mentions of self harm, hurt, if uncomfortable DNI

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Alhaitham

Honestly, he knows things like these could happened but he never faces it

Until he met you

You're one of those people who usually keep their tasks on hand but at the same time, can be clumsy.

One day, things get a little stirred around your work and it stresses you out

Like literally. Papers here and there and sudden tasks are flowing nonstop

When Alhaitham entered your room, he could see most of the papers aren't organised and you yourself is a mess

He walked to you and checked on you

"y/n." he said with his usual tone, but with a slight hint of concern etch on it

You looked up, and saw him

He can see some scratches on your wrist

Without giving any words, he pulled you closer and comfort you

Honestly.. he didn't know what to do since he spends most of his times alone

But you only told him to hug you and he did that

Just holding you close, and rest your head on his chest

Alhaitham rubbed your back and let you cry or rest on him

You can always rely on him, always

He never judges people, although he can be rather cold

Especially with you, he always accepted for who you are

So, if you need any help, do call him :)

"it's alright.. let it out.. I'm here if you need anything"

Kaveh

Is probably the most understandable and quite experienced (?)

From his lore, we can tell that he's been through a lot

even know he's a renown architect, problems can come and go in his life

So, when you're in the same situation where it's getting too much, you can always tell it to Kaveh

When you're breaking down and have these thoughts, he would hold you close

His soft hands would held yours and rubbing gentle circles on your palm while whispering soft things into your ear

You're so fragile in his arms, your tears were making his clothes slightly wet from it, but he didn't mind.. it's you after all

The last thing he wanted you to do is not tell him and harm yourself

Trust me, he would be damned if you did hurt yourself

even when he first noticed it, Kaveh felt like it was his fault since he didn't kept a close eye on you

So.. don't make him worry, he loves you dearly

"Everything's gonna be okay.. you have me here.. just come to me whether you want a talk or just a hug.."

Ayato

In my head, he is also quite inexperienced (?)

I know he works around people, but his subjects are mostly paperworks and politics

So obviously, feelings rarely come in hand when working on a daily basis

It took him quite a while to know that you're struggling with your life

It's quite on both, you hid it well and he's too busy to notice it

Ayato noticed finally when you two were getting ready for bed

When you changed, he saw a few scratch marks on your wrist

he wanted to think you scratched by something, but the looks like its been done by a bit force

he then noticed how down you look

You're eyes seem a little dimmed than it used to

He then come over to you and wrapped his arms around you

You looked at him in confusion, but he only said, "seems like you need it."

Since he don't have any idea about what to do, he would just let you take the lead and wait for you to tell him something

He's just afraid that he might say the wrong thing to you, so it's best to give you some hugs for now until you're ready

"It's okay.. I'll be here until you get better.. no pressure, dear.."

Childe

Like Kaveh, he knows and understands about it

Well.. childhood trauma from the Abyss..

You can say he has ways of dealing it, either fighting or fishing

Or just have a stroll (like he did in Fontaine)

You were glad that he knows about it and knew how to take care of someone who's like that

It's a heart-wrenching sight for Childe to see you like that

Scars from battles are alright although he prefers to get it on him and not you

But from self harming.. it's the most thing that he loathes

Seeing his loved ones struggled and attempt that can torn him into pieces

He would do anything to make you feel better, even if it's just hugging you while you breaking down

Making your favourite food while telling you about soft things

Or if you want to talk to him, he'll hear your hearts out

Also, he would cut your nails so you couldn't scratch it. Of course that also applies that he would stay around for the next few days until you're completely okay

Just.. don't hurt yourself like that again

Hurting yourself = hurting him (in his mindset)

"now now.. there's no need to do that, princess.. you can always come to me whenever you're sad.."

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

98 notes · View notes

dreamingofep · 9 months

Text

Sinned Awakening pt. 3

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/Vampire Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Request: No

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis’ full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond belief and your undeniable attraction makes you fear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, tension, angst, SMUT, oral, the usual dirty stuff

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5.5K

A/N: Hello everyone!

Welcome to part 3! This part was a lot to write and I felt it to be a bit of a challenge to show the tension and magnetism between these two. I hope you enjoy all this and can't wait to show you what happens next. Please let me know what you think in the comments or send me a message!

Thank you again!

Sorry for any spelling mistakes and overall goofs. 🖤

Arriving to work the next day, you felt that familiar knot in your stomach form. Yet again, you didn’t know what would be in store for you. Would he fire you? Would you get another obscenely weird letter of praise? You had no idea but you had to show up and find out.

Three o clock arrived and there was no phone call, just the buzzing sound of the lights above you. You tapped your leg nervously, wanting to see him but unsure what to say. He might not have seen you after all, maybe it was just you being paranoid and he wasn’t upset at all.

Six o clock came and still no phone call. In fact, there wouldn’t be a phone call for an entire week. You were incredibly frustrated that he has you on call like this. You expected him to have more manners than this rather than keeping you waiting at his beck and call. But Tanya's voice rings in your head and it reminds you that he's "particular." Just another word for him acting like an asshole.

Looking at the clock, it was almost seven and your blood boiled. The least he could do was tell you he didn’t need you to clean today and you could go home and rest. But instead, you’re stuck here in this cold, poorly lit locker room in the basement of the International.

The shrill cry of the phone makes you make a frustrated groan. You quickly pick up the receiver and raise it to your ear and don’t say a word.

“Mr. Presley will-,” you hang up harshly and head to the elevator.

You had rehearsed the things you wanted to say to him, really give him a piece of your mind. How he can’t treat you like this and you’re not some servant to him. You work for The Hilton, not for him solely, and he needs to be reminded of that.

You rush past the men in the hallway and don’t care about the judgmental stares they give you as you head to the suite’s double doors. You open the door abruptly and slam it behind you making the walls shake. Your eyes search for Elvis in the living room and don’t see him anywhere. Not only that, the room is in spotless condition as you left it last, leaving you bewildered that you got a call in the first place. You creep your way further into the room and you get that familiar chill down your spine. Your body freezes and your eyes dart to the dark figure coming out of the bedroom.

The shadow in the corner of the room makes it’s way into the light to reveal Elvis standing in a silk black shirt and black slacks, anger radiating off of him and hitting you in waves.

“Do not slam my door,” he bellows.

You scoff at him and cross your arms on your chest, “You can’t possibly think I’d be happy waiting for a week not hearing a word from you. Then you call me up here thinking I could get the normal cleaning done! A normal person would call at the beginning of the shift that they don’t need me so I can go about my day,” you snarl.

“So you can go do what? Go home to a fiancé that doesn’t care if you exist?” He snaps back. You stare wide-eyed in shock and disbelief at the pure hate that he spits at you

“What the hell is your problem?! I have been nothing but kind and gracious to you despite your god-awful raging mood swings,” you retort. His jaw clenches, slowly walking towards you. The closer he gets, the clearer you could see his eyes, engulfed with pent-up anger. They were a much darker blue than the icy blue you saw a few days ago and you can’t figure out if it was your imagination or the lighting, but the way he’s looking at you now is dangerous.

“You’re my problem, honey,” he scoffs, “You don’t listen. You were told up front, I am the only one who tells you if I need your services, and yet you come barging in here tonight like you own the place. I didn’t need you tonight, but you hung up on one of my men and couldn’t even listen to the complete instruction,” he scowls. His eyes burn into yours as he inches closer to you.

“And possibly even worse, you went into my bedroom the other night when I specifically told you not to under any circumstances,” He growls, pointing his finger at you, getting closer than he normally gets.

“Well, I wasn’t in your bedroom so I don’t see what the issue is,” you say defiantly, watching as the disbelief washes over his face. You straighten out your posture, showing him that you’re not going stand here and take his harsh words like a scared child.

“And if you were so concerned about me finding out what you do in your bedroom, you might need to gain the ability to actually close your door and turn your porn off until I leave the penthouse,” you sneer. He quickly rushes to you, taking your face in his hand, making you look up straight into his fiery eyes.

“You have no idea what I can do to you,” he seethes. Your breathing begins to become labored and his close proximity makes it feel suffocating. You peel his cold hands off your face and throw it down at his side.

“I’m not afraid of what some recluse with money can do to me. It was only a matter of time before you would fire me,” you say fuming.

“Mhmm…but you’re right, maybe I should fire you. Or, maybe I should make you work for me forever, keep you all to myself,” he says darkly. Your heart thumps in your ears and you look at him wide-eyed as the mood in the room drastically shifts.

“Y-y-you couldn’t pay me enough so don’t even try,” your voice waiver the closer he gets to you.

“Maybe you’re right… maybe there isn’t a number that could make you happy, you’re just going to be as miserable as me,” he scoffs.

“No one can be as miserable as you, I can guarantee that,” you scowl.

He takes another step forward and you retract back, needing to keep space between you two. He smirks when he sees your reaction to him, taking one more step closer.

“I make you nervous, don’t I?” He quips slyly.

A lump in your throat forms and you don’t realize you’ve retreated so far in the room and are at the piano now. You bump the keys of the piano with your backside and jump at the sound. “I don’t know what you mean,” you say nervously.

“I see it in your eyes, the way your body fights to get away from me, but you can’t. You want to be here. To be close to me,” he reveals.

“Elvis, I- I’m engaged you can’t try to win your way with me like any other woman,”

“I don’t think you care about that right now. I know a troubled and unhappy soul when I see one honey. I’m just trying to figure you out. What you… need,” he emphasizes.

“Who says I’m not already happy?” You question. Another smirk forms on his face, making you weaker by the second.

“Based on how your cheeks are flushed and your eyes pleading for me to give you attention, I’d say you need something more. Something more from me.”

You bite your lower lip, knowing everything he is saying is the truth. The longer you stare and be in his presence, the more your body craved being around him. Not only that but this carnal desire to let him have his way with you ignited a fire inside you you didn’t know existed. You look down at the carpet, mapping out the way you’re going to try to get out of here. He places his hand on the bottom of your chin, making you look up into his eyes as they consume you whole.

“Do I make you nervous, yes or no,” he spat.

You nod your head in his hand, unable to keep your breathing steady as his eyes bore into your searching for answers. He pushes his body into yours, his erection starting to form and pushing into your tummy. You let out a slow breath, trying to fight how good his body feels on yours. The battle is lost almost immediately as you find your hands wrapped around his torso, needing him even closer, scratching your nails down his back.

“Are you happy?” He questions.

“I’m not happy,” you whisper. He lets a slow exhale, his body melting into yours.

“Then stop fighting me so much and let me give you what you need,” He groans into your ear, pushing his hips into you more. You hold back the moan you want to give him, unable to denounce that this is exactly what you wanted from him.

“I was born to please honey. It's what I do best. I get on that stage, I please the audience with my voice every night. I always make sure those around me get what they need too. Whether that’s money, food, clothes, you name it. And that applies to you too,” he pauses and takes his hand off of you. You take a sharp inhale as you feel your core throb for the first time in his presence. “So, what do you need?’ He asks patiently, smirking down at you.

“I need you to show me what you do best,” you say slyly, succumbing to him. He grins and in a flash, his lips are on yours. His lips feel better than you could have ever dreamed of. They’re soft and pillowy, kissing you with a newfound urgency you had never had before. The way he groans when he kisses you more passionately has you rolling your eyes back; like he’s been dying to do this and has mapped it all out.

His hands are around your hips, squeezing them tightly, making you push your body into him more. His hands roam your body freely, putting them everywhere, touching certain areas longer than others then moving on to touch somewhere else. He finds the curve of your ass and squeezes it firmly, making you break the kiss and look up at him gasping.

The way his skin felt on your body was beyond a craving; it was a need. This was exactly what you needed. All this weird pent-up energy between you two was bound to make the dam break and the only cure was having him this way. With your bodies clutching for each other, moaning and gasping for more as your apparent arousals made your thoughts go hazy. Your hand trails down to the front of his body, grazing down his til you hit his hard bulge. Your fingers trace the outline of his cock, getting to feel how long his length really is and you look up at him.

He has the most devious grin on his face as you keep rubbing him over his pants. You let out a breathy sigh, realizing you can’t wait any longer.

“Mmm, Elvis,” you say low.

“I know honey,” he grumbles, his finger hooking onto the inside of your shirt as he pops off every button. Your skirt has the same treatment as you feel the zipper slide down and it slipping off your hips. His hand finds your hair and swiftly pulls the elastic that was holding your hair back, letting it fall in effortless waves.

Before you have any chance to react to what he’s doing to your clothes, he picks you up and sits you down firmly on top of the piano. Your head spins at the way he’s touching you, being more exposed just being in your bra and panties. It's all so much better than you anticipated and it feels like his hands are burning on your skin. He grunts inwardly and rubs his hands along the inner parts of your thighs, spreading them open. His thumbs play dangerously close to the sensitive flesh that reaches your core and you can’t help but spread your legs wider for him to touch those places. Elvis stands in between your legs and brushes your hair behind your ear. His fingers unclasp your bra and slide the straps off your shoulders. Cupping your breasts in his hands, he gives them the lightest touch, rubbing your nipples in slow circles with his thumbs making you fall apart instantly for him.

He leans you back on the piano and lifts your legs up, letting them dangle on his shoulders. Your heart pounded away as Elvis inched closer to your dripping heat. You look at him in between your legs, looking absolutely ravenous. He glides his thumb up on your covered folds and instantly brought a shock to your entire body. Your panties were soaked through already, and he smiles when he makes this discovery. He keeps rubbing your sensitive bud, watching your face as it drowns in pleasure.

The friction he’s giving you is exactly what you wanted and it feels like heaven. He knows the exact amount of pressure to put on it to make you want more from him. Your blazing heat and his cold fingers provide such an interesting sensation that you’ve never experienced and it drives you insane.

Elvis can’t keep his eyes off of you, wanting to make you feel better than you ever have before. He hooks his fingers in the elastic waistband and you move your hips up to help him get them off of you. He hums softly, amused at your eagerness. He lightly glides his hands over your entire body, leaving you with chills. He can’t help but smirk when he notices how your body reacts to him. How your nipples hardened by his cool touch and how your chest heaves waiting for him to give you more.

He crouches down slightly, placing his two fingers on your lower lips, spreading them apart, showcasing the wet mess he has created and spilling out of you.

“Fuck this kitty looks so perfect,” he moans breathlessly, looking at you with need. He rubs his thumb on your sensitive bud, making you let out an obscenely loud moan, having not been touched like this by a man in ages. He knows just the right pressure to give you, enough to work you up. He stops and looks up at you, grinning like a little devil.

“This is one of the things I do best honey,” he groans deeply before he leans down and you feel his tongue on you. He starts to lap his tongue into your folds, swirling it and putting the perfect amount of pressure on your clit. You gasp, so unaccustomed to all of this, it feels almost overwhelming.

“Oh shittt,” you groan the more he uses his tongue. He has a tight grip on your thighs, keeping you still as you try to squirm on top of the piano. He is also groaning the more he licks at your wetness, driving you to the edge by the sounds he’s making. You lift your head up to watch him with his eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed as he looks positively ravenous as he eats you, sucking and lapping all the wetness from you. His groans sound animalistic, like he’s been so deprived for your pussy and he finally gets what he’s wanted the most.

Suddenly, you feel his tongue slip into your entrance and you both make the most salacious moan together. He eats you like he’s trying to get all the sweet cream from the bottom of the cone, not letting a drop get unlicked.

He sucks on your clit before taking his lips off of you, “Goddamn baby, tasting so fucking good. I've never had someone taste so sweet. Just like honey,” he murmurs drunkenly and goes back to licking your weeping folds. One hand is on your thigh, holding your leg up in the air and the other is grasping onto the edge of the piano, hunched over in stature as he is so laser-focused on you.

You hadn’t experienced this very often and it was definitely never like this. This was beyond pleasurable, it was euphoric with the way he made you want to get the very edge and come apart with his mouth on you.

Your hips start to rock involuntarily into his face, needing more from that mouth of his.

You feel his lips form into a mischievous smile as you continue to do this, guiding his tongue where you want it most.

“That’s right baby, I make you feel so good hmm,” he whispers. The sound of his voice makes your walls flutter and you can’t last much longer. Your breathing begins to shake, not used to so many sensations that he is giving you right now. He plunges his tongue deep inside you and you practically see stars behind your closed eyes. He keeps this same pace, moving his tongue in and out of you as you reach for his hair. You tangle your fingers in the soft black tresses and continue to rock into his face, feeling the warmth of your orgasm rush all over your body. You moan loudly as his tongue continues to fuck you and your squeezing walls.

Your body tingles all over and feel more pleased than you have in ages. You never particularly liked oral because you had a harder time finishing, but tonight, that was the complete opposite problem.

If that’s what he can do with his mouth… what can he do with the rest of his body…

He takes his mouth off of you, your slick covering his lips and chin, his eyes looking positively drunk on you. Standing up, his chest heaves when he looks at you, contemplating what he’s going to do next to you. His long index finger glides through your sensitive folds, making you hiss at the added pressure.

His other hand traces your jaw and his thumb rubs along your lips, humming to himself as you lick the pad of it. He groans at your little insinuation and moves his hand down to your neck putting the most delicious amount of pressure there.

Suddenly, you feel his finger enter your weeping core and you gasp and groan at the intrusion. Your walls hug his digit snugly and he too lets out a pent-up moan as he moves it in and out of you slowly.

“Fucking hell honey, when was the last time a man fucked you right,” he coos.

Your mind races and your body aches with desire, needing him to take care of every last want and need you crave.

“I-I-I don’t remember,” you manage to mumble, feeling his long finger get deeper inside you. Your jaw drops as he continues to feel your slick walls, letting out a loud moan.

He enters another long finger inside you and you cry out his name, so completely enamored with the feelings that are being brought into your body. Your walls flutter and you sit up on your elbows watching what he’s doing to you. He curls his fingers inside you, hitting a soft spongy spot you didn’t know existed before. He keeps curling and pushing there, making you moan louder for him.

His mouth is back on your clit, suckling it eagerly. You can’t hold back anymore and feel your walls squeeze around his fingers. Your head falls back, begging for him to give you more. The rippling wave of pleasure hits you like a train and won’t stop as long as he has his mouth on your aching bud. You try to push his head away from your over-sensitive core but he doesn’t let you move it. Sitting there shaking with pleasure, he stills your legs and looks at you deviously.

“I’m gonna show you how a man should fuck you, honey,” he growls, his eyes continuing to look dangerous and yet so attractive. He pulls his fingers out of you and picks you up off the piano, pulling you into the next room.

His bedroom is dark, with black furnishings taking up most of the space and a large king-sized bed in the middle across from the tv stand. A picture of an angel in stained glass sits on his nightstand, backlit with a candle to shine on the depiction of the biblical figure.

Elvis pulls back the sheets and places you in the middle of the bed. He doesn’t get on it with you right away, instead, he just stares hungrily at you, working the buttons of his shirt to reveal his body to you. Your eyes wander down to his pants and see his straining erection and he notices you staring.

“Need something, sweetheart?” He teases.

You nod your head at him, “Mhmm, I do” you beckon, trying to reach for his hand to pull him in. He doesn’t move though, and takes his hand away from you.

“Tell me what you need,” he prods.

“I need your cock,” you pant.

He slowly drags his pants off his hips, his erection slapping his lower stomach as it springs free. You lay there unable to function. Seeing it up close makes you feel an undeniable need to have him fill you with all of that. Your heart races out of your chest as he still doesn’t make a move yet.

He wraps his hand around his length, slowly pulling back his foreskin to better showcase his red leaking tip. He looks down at you slyly, watching how you bite your lip and scoot closer to him on the edge of the bed.

“Did you like it?,” he cocks his head at you waiting for your response.

You look at him puzzled, “Did I like what?” You ask unsure.

“The other day, did you like watching me get off?” He says darkly. You hold your breath, confirming your big fear that he did indeed see you watching him through the crack of the door. You know there’s no point in lying, he saw you and there’s no other excuse.

“Yes,” you squeak out embarrassed. A sly grin washes over his face and his hand continues to rub his length.

“Then say it,” he commands, his voice deep and gruff. Your stomach drops when you hear his tone and what he is expectantly waiting to hear from you. You don’t have to ask what he wants and you take a deep breath before speaking.

“I liked watching you get off,” you say in a breathy moan. He bites the bottom of his lip and nods his head at you.

“I know honey, I know you did. I liked how you watched me. Now it’s time to give you what you want,” he groans, getting on the bed in between your legs and spreading them open. The coolness of his hands pressing into your soft thighs makes you shiver with anticipation. He guides the tip of his cock in between your folds, covering it with your slick and you groan.

He lines himself up to your entrance and pushes a few inches in swiftly. You gasp at the initial penetration, he feels so much bigger than you anticipated and you haven’t had sex in so long that your body needs a second to acclimate. Your hands reach for his arms and grab onto him tight and groan.

He also lets out a loud moan as he moves in and out of you slowly, his eyes closed shut and his mouth dropped open in pleasure.

“Fuuckkk honey. Squeezing me so damn tight. You feel perfect,” He groans through his teeth, pushing more of his cock inside of you.

Your fingers dig into his flesh, leaving little red marks on his biceps. There’s a searing pleasurable pain that resides within you as you try to take him. He watches how you writhed on the bed, gasping for air as all of this is overwhelming.

“Ahh, oh my god Elvis,” You moan as you toss your head to the side, squeezing your eyes shut. You hear him hum in delight as he watches every single reaction come out of you. How you inadvertently moan for more when he pulls his length out of you and how your face looks when he plunges the rest of it in you.

“Oh my god,” you both moan out.

“Elvis, holy shit…” you managed to get out as he starts to snap his hips faster into you.

“What honey, you not used to get fucked like this hmm?” He teases.

You shake your head fervently, looking down as his length goes in and out of you.

“No, feels so good though,” you whimper. He pushes your legs up more and has both of his hands on your knees and he grinds his hips into you, watching you from above. God those hips were talented in more ways than one, the way he was barely moving them but was hitting the most perfect spot inside you had you dying.

The coil in your belly tightens by the second and has you crying for release. Almost reading your thoughts, he stops and pulls out of you. You plead for him, wanting nothing more than for him to make you cum. His eyes are still very dark, lust taking them over as he watches you plead for more of him.

“Elvisss please oh god,” you cry, pulling at his arms to get him on you again.

“You’re gonna have to tell me exactly what you want baby,” he commands.

You let out a frustrated moan, looking into his eyes, “Keep fucking me, your cock feels so good,” you beg unashamedly.

He grins at you and quickly puts your legs on his shoulders. He lines himself up again and plunges into you fast and fervently, making you see stars already. Elvis stretches his arm over you, holding onto the bed frame for leverage as he pounds into you. The moans and cries are coming out of you like water. He was right, you’ve never had a man fuck you like this and you enjoyed it more than you probably should.

When it came to sex, Daniel didn’t think about your needs, he did the same thing every time if you two ever did have any. This wasn’t the case at all with Elvis. He was on a mission for you you to feel the maximum amount of pleasure and cum first.

He looks so powerful and addicted to you, as he keeps fucking you. Your hips move with him, matching his rhythm and feeling that familiar feeling in your core. His other hand is back on your neck, wrapping it firmly there making your eyes roll back. You groan loudly, not able to take much more at the pace he’s set.

“Elvis I’m gonna cum oh god,” you cry.

He groans with you and you feel his thumb trace the side of your neck, rubbing there back and forth cussing under his breath.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck honey,” he moans as he leans down and nips hard at the crook of your neck.

You cry out for him, feeling beyond overwhelmed. The way his teeth felt on your neck was a feeling you could only describe as perilous. You didn’t want him to stop necessarily but it made you nervous with how intensely he was focused there. He keeps nipping that spot over and over then at it licking ravenously. You feel his body convulse on top of you, his breathing ragged as he nuzzles his nose next to your ear.

“Cum for me, now,” he demands gruffly, his hips snapping into you like an animal.

You obey without hesitation and feel your walls squeeze his length, making you both cuss. His face stays buried in the crook of your neck, not moving it as you ride out your orgasm.

Your fingers scratch at his back, holding onto him for dear life as you try to regain your normal breathing. He quickly pulls out of you and keeps his head down, his chest heaving like you've never seen, and grabs his length in his hand, growling in frustration.

“Turn around, now,” he grunts. Your brain scrambled to listen to him, his tone making you jump out of your skin. You quickly get on all fours and wait there for his next instructions. His hand grasps at your hip and you feel his hot seed land on your ass. His moans are gruff and you hear his breathing scattered, frantic almost. The sounds of his moans made you melt and you wanted to look at his face to see what he looked like coming. You bet he looked even more attractive somehow. But you decided to listen to him and let him finish the way he wanted to. You felt his seed drip down your ass and onto the backof your thighs, making you completely wet with both of your arousal.

His hands squeeze your hips and he turns you around again, laying on your back looking up at him. He looks delightfully fucked out of his mind and looks down upon you like prey. You both don’t say anything right away, trying to regain your normal breathing and not pass out from this beautiful man on top of you.

“Did you like that?” He asks softly.

“Y-yes. I really did. Didn’t know it could be that, intense,” you admit. He chuckles to himself, his blue eyes still dark with lust as he looks at you.

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear,” he says smugly as he leans down to kiss your forehead.

He carefully gets off of you and goes to the bathroom to get a towel. He has you turn around for him again, he wipes your backside clean and he sits on the edge of the bed staring at you. You didn’t know what else to say or do, so many emotions were running through your head, and couldn’t make any sense of them.

Why did your body like him this much? It was more intense than you could have possibly imagined. You wanted to believe it was because you had been so deprived of another human’s touch but it wasn’t convincing enough. You just cheated on your fiancé, it should be making you sick with what you just begged Elvis to do to you but instead, you’re already thinking if this could possibly happen again.

No stop it. It’s not going to happen again. You promise.

You need to break this deafening silence and look at him smirking.

“I hope you don’t expect me to change the sheets next,” you say smartly. He shakes his head at you and laughs. Another thing that is beautiful about him; his laugh. That contagious sound makes you smile without you even trying.

“No honey I won’t make you do that. We might just make another mess in them,” He says deviously.

“Elvis, I umm, I really enjoyed all of that but this can’t happen again,” you say weakly.

“Mhmm, whatever you want honey. If you change your mind, you know where I’ll be,” he discloses, getting up and heading for the bathroom. “Leave whenever you want, I have to get ready for my show,” He says gently.

You look at the clock and it’s already eight, his show starts in half an hour. Looks like he might be going on a little late.

You go back into the living room area where you see your discarded uniform. You slip your skirt back on and button up your shirt. And throw your ruined panties and bra in your cart and make your way out. You couldn’t make eye contact with the men there in the hall, almost guaranteeing that they heard everything that was going on in there. The elevator doors open and you get in and take the long ride down to the basement.

Your head felt like it was in a cloud, blurry with so many thoughts and feelings you couldn’t escape. Grabbing your panties out from your cart, you make your way to your locker to grab your purse and go home. You keep a small mirror on the locker’s door and you take a look at your reflection. Your hair looked like it went through a tornado and your mascara was smudged underneath your eyes.

Nice you look completely normal.

Then your eyes stare in disbelief at what you see next. On the side of your neck, a large purple bruise has surfaced, pulsating and burning. You delicately touch it with your fingers and wince, feeling your pulse underneath it throb. He was nipping there harder than you thought based on how big and purple the bruise is, he did some damage.

Tilting your head further and inspecting for any more signs of how you committed adultery, you see your carotid artery running down your neck and through the bruise Elvis left behind.

You take deep breaths and try to find a bandage that will cover this up properly. You have no idea what excuse you are going to try to give when people ask what happened but you’ll figure it out later. Right now, you need to cover it up and get out of here.

Rushing over to the first aid kit, you find a band-aid that covers the bruise and you carefully placed it on. Closing your locker and grabbing your purse, you run to your car and lock the door, catching your breath and calming yourself down before you drive home.

This can’t happen again.

There’s already too much evidence he left behind.

You can’t have him.

He’s too tempting.

Do your job and get out.

But something in you knew it wasn’t going to be that simple.

Tagging 🖤:

@powerofelvis @burninlovebutler @neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @elvispresleyxoxo @loving-elvis

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @rosepresley @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog @myradiaz @lookingforrainbows @elvispresleygf @tacozebra051 @thatbanditqueen

@18lkpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873 @austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis @everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy @elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony @generoustreemystic @kendralavon7 @lettersfromvenus @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121 @jacqueline19997 @returntopresley @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog @louisejoy86

#elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley x reader #elvis presely smut #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis x oc #elvis x you #elvis x y/n #elvis x reader #austin elvis smut #austin elvis imagine #austin butler elvis #vampire elvis fic #vampire elvis #70s elvis #sinned awakening #elvis fanfic #samfangirls

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myyoungroyalsblog · 10 months

Text

Red, White and Royal Blue fic rec part 2 (part 1)

*Note: I have a lot of unfinished fics in my subscriptions but since there are over 120+ fics there from other fandoms too I won’t be able to add those, when they are finished I’ll do another post in the future!

*Also couldn't find some of these writers here on tumblr, if you know tell me and I’ll add their @ beside it!

MULTI-CHAPTER

Things I Cannot Accept

18 chapters, 69.703 words

By @sprigsofviolets AU where Ellen lost the election in 2016 and Henry and Alex reconnect in 2019. Super cute and interesting story, with a lot of fluff and angst, amazingly written!

Captious (calculated to confuse, entrap or entangle in argument)

3 chapters, 14.256 words

Blind date AU... Well... Sort of... You'll know when you read it hehe but honestly so so sweet with a bit of angst but so much fluff!

My Only Wish (This Year)

7 chapters, 26.374 words

By @dracowillhearaboutthis AU where Henry marries a woman and has two daughters, set 10 years later and Alex and Henry reconnect, and maybe a romance blooms... Of course it does lol very cute kid fic (with a bit of angst too) but still lots of fluff!

Comfort Crowd

8 chapters, 12.098 words

To all the boys I've loved before AU, I don't like the film but since I'm such a sucker for these two of course I read it and got obsessed with it afajsgshsvsg

And they call it—

2 chapters, 10.148 words

By @clottedcreamfudge AU where Alex can talk to animals, so when Henry needs a dog sitter he goes to Alex, and he and David obviously talk about Henry. So funny and fluffy, guaranteed to make you smile!

(do i really have to tell you) how he brought me back to life?

7 chapters, 38.498 words

By @coffeecatsme High school AU where Henry gets kicked out by Mary and lives with Alex's family. A whole lot of angst and a whole lot of fluff, just a superb story!

I'm Taking A Ride With My Best Friend

23 chapters, 79.302 words

By @cultofsappho The Last of Us AU where Henry is immune and Alex helps him get to the fireflies in hopes to create a vaccine. If you've watched the tv show or played the game, you know how this goes lol could not recommend it enough, so much angsty but has fluffy moments too! And the writing is impeccable

i'd lie

6 chapters, 18.058 words

AU where Alex and June move to England with thier mum and have the Fox family as their neighbours, we see the super six throughout the years and how Henry lies might not work anymore... If you want angst, this is the fic for you

ONE SHOT

talk too much

3.307 words

By @lazybug16 Alex has his wisdom teeth removed and Henry takes care of him, just fluff fluff fluff, super adorable (yes self promo because I'm very proud of this fic, I love it)

I trace your constellations

13.498 words

Soulmates, coffee shops and demi Henry AU, just pure flirting and fluff, suuuuuuper cute read!

Never Truly Leave

2.443 words

By @clottedcreamfudge Catherine finds a letter that Arthur wrote... To Alex. We cry alongside Alex as he reads it; very emotional, it will make you cry, and fall in love with these characters all over again, could not recommend enough

you knew the entire time (you knew that i'm a mastermind)

8.239 words

By @coffeecatsme Uni and autistic Henry AU, we see Alex and Henry fall in love. Fluffy but also a bit of angst, you just want to protect Henry and tell him everything is going to be okay

starry eyes sparking up my darkest nights

16.367 words

By @coffeecatsme Hugh school AU where Arthur is also alive and becomes like a second father to Alex. Very very sweet with a bit if angst as well, you'll love it and might have a few happy tears towards the end

learning to love (without it having to hurt)

4.861 words

AU where they aren't famous and they are roommates. We see Henry figure out his asexuality and Alex be there for him, and them getting together of course :) very very sweet read!

The last letter

2.173 words

By @floatingaway4 They are in the afterlife, at peace. This weiter managed to combine angst and fluff at the exact same time and I don't know how they did it, it will make you ugly happy cry!

Fourty-Four Days

8.675 words

They are living in the Brownstone when Henry needs to go to europe for the shelters and Alex to California for a campaign, and they end up not seeing each other for 44 days, and it's too much. Angsty but then fluffy, it just hurts seeing them miss each other so so much

take me out, and take me home

11.837 words

Roommates AU and we see Alex get some feelings, only friendly feelings of course... Really cute story and ending!

i’d take the bomb in your head and disarm it

22.392 words

By @evanbuvkley roommates AU and friends to angsty friends to lovers afahsgsjshdj so much angst that you might cry but a bit of fluff too (happy ending don't worry) such an engaging story, very well executed

and I wrote down our song

6.072 words

AU where Alex is a musician and Henry isn't a prince and they meet at a bar where Alex is performing. Super cute and we see how they fall in love and grow and it's just full of joy!

Group therapy

3.243 words

By @stutteringpeach AU where Ellen is Henrys therapist and he is dating Alex and talks to Ellen about their relationship, without knowing that it's actually his boyfriends mum... They "meet" at a family cook out and its honestly hilarious lmao you will not stop laughing

#I made this draft on this blog cause I started it before I made my rwrb blog lol #rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb fic #red white and royal blue fic #firstprince #mine #queue

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kyber-crystal · 9 months

Text

midnight rain || benji dunn

summary: 4 times you realize you love benji dunn and 1 time you finally told him you loved him (it’s him, it’s always been him, and it always will be him)

words: ~2.4k

warnings: angst, mentions of violence, did i mention angst. but there's a happy ending i promise. also a fair amount of crying cause we love a reader who’s not afraid of being vulnerable in front of the man she cares about. feminism Yes

a/n: can you tell this is literally my favorite trope ever. also this is my first ever full length mission impossible oneshot…so if benji seems ooc then pls keep that in mind LOL. i promise i’ll get better w the more i write. i tried my best :) anyway enjoyyy

dedicated to @the-multiverse-of-fandoms who wanted basically anything benji/imf team related, i hope this did your wish justice!! & to @ilsastrenchcoat for giving me that lil push to branch out & write something new :)

i. what happens in budapest stays in budapest

“So when are you going to tell him?” Luther’s voice cuts through the buzz of static.

You flinched, with your earpiece nearly falling out at the sudden motion. “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“She knows what I’m talking about. Right, Ilsa?”

“What? That she’s in love with Benji?” Ilsa laughed in reply. “Oh. Of course she does. I thought everyone knew.”

“Can it,” you snapped, face feeling red-hot. “Last I checked, we were trying to track down an arms dealer. This isn’t the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.”

“London,” Luther corrected. You could practically hear him smirking. “This is burning slower than that damn White Barn candle I got on sale two years ago.”

You rolled your eyes and slid your gun back into its holster. Children. You worked with children.

But you knew they were right. They always were, but you would carry that admission with you to the grave if you had to. They knew you had fallen long before you did yourself—eight months ago when you were crammed into a tiny motel room in Budapest for a layover. The walls were so paper thin that you could hear Ethan snoring on the other side, and there was only enough room for one measly bed.

“I think the springs are broken,” Benji had pointed out.

“Very broken.”

“Did they forget to give us another pillow?”

“I think so.”

“Okay, you can take the pillow. I don’t need it anyway.”

“Benji, just take the damn pillow.”

“No, you take it. I don’t want you to complain in the morning that you don’t feel well rested.”

“…Fine.”

Just as you were about to drift off, you felt a warm hand squeeze yours and a familiar voice whisper “Sleep tight, I’ll bomb all the bed bugs and bad dreams for you.”

That ended up being the first nightmare-free, peaceful sleep you had in eleven years.

ii. home is where the heart is

Marrakesh right after sunset was unusually peaceful. The lively chatter of the bazaar below was calming down; and the weather wasn’t too hot nor too cold.

You had never seen so many stars like this in your entire life.

“You’re telling me that in all these years of living, you’ve never seen a sky full of stars?” Benji had asked you one evening during a team camping trip. “That’s not called living, it’s called dying.”

“I grew up in a big city, Dunn,” you sighed. “I would do anything for an unpolluted sky.”

“Benji’s inside, if you were wondering,” Ethan explained as he pulled out a seat next to you. “He just got back a few minutes ago.”

“Oh. Okay.”

He exhales and gives you a knowing look. “How long?”

“Ethan, you know I can’t…”

“What’s holding you back?”

“I don’t know, the weight of the world, maybe?” you guessed. “And when you’re constantly moving from place to place it’s hard to settle down and tell someone how you feel. It’s hard to find the perfect time…”

“There’s no such thing as the ‘perfect’ time, Y/N. You just need to find the right time.”

“But I don’t understand. It’s…for the first time in my life, I finally feel like I’m home…he makes me feel at home. But I can’t even say it. What if he doesn’t get it?”

“He will know. Trust me.”

“Who will know what?”

It’s impossible for Ethan to miss the way your face lights up as Benji steps out onto the balcony. He takes this as the opportunity to quietly step away, leaving you two to yourselves.

“Hi,” you say shyly, hands in your pockets.

“Hey, yourself,” he replies.

You step towards him and lean your forehead against his shoulder. He’s surprised at the sudden action but wraps his arms around you anyway, feeling grateful for your presence.

“Thank you,” you mumble against his shirt, though he’s not sure what exactly you’re thanking him for.

“Anytime.”

iii. he definitely is a fallen angel, right?

God, he had to be unreal, you thought as the Seoul skyline reflected off his face and washed him in a glowing gold. He could have just gone through hell and back and still look as if he had descended straight from the heavens.

You couldn’t look away. It was damn near impossible for you to.

You weren’t sure what you did to deserve him; he was far too precious for this cruel world. You walked through the doors of the IMF with eleven passports and a knife tucked against your thigh, not knowing what your future held. Benji, on the other hand, strolled in with the widest grin known to man on his face and eyes sparkling as if he had discovered the eighth wonder of the world. Polar opposites, and yet you’re drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Benji’s brows furrowed in concern. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Just thinking…I really need a drink.”

“Nonsense, you can’t even walk straight,” he stated as he glanced down at your ankle, which had been wrapped up in bandages. “You don’t need the soju to be walking around like a madman.”

“Yes I do.”

“No you don’t.”

“I…”Letting out a shaky sigh, you bite the inside of your cheek until you could taste blood. “They almost got away. I almost jeopardized everyone’s safety and ruined the whole damn operation.”

“No, you didn’t,” he reassured you, “they didn’t get away. And besides…I think you did pretty damn great out there. Taking names, kicking ass, beating that one dude to death with the butt of your pistol…”

Your eyes shone with tears as you glanced over at him, a small smile now on your face. “You really think so?”

“Yeah,” he said softly as he brought a hand up to your cheek. You lean in to his touch and try to ignore the sparks that ignite as his skin brushes against yours. “I really think so. And you know what else?”

“What?”

“I think this calls for a celebration. How does charcoal-grilled KBBQ sound? Then we…we can go to that super cool design plaza north of the Han River and we’ll pretend we’re in another dimension. One where the IMF isn’t sending us on death-defying missions in which bad guys are out for our blood.”

The crinkles around your eyes make their first appearance in what seems like forever, and Benji’s heart warms. “You know me so well.”

“Well, of course. I’ve been trying to.”

He shrugs his jacket off and wraps it around your shoulders before pulling you close. You sink into him even deeper, and for a moment, you can pretend that everything is right with the world.

iv. as the world caves in

You don’t think you’ve ever cried in your life. Not even once.

Okay, maybe once. Twice. The first time was when you passed the field exam and you were so happy that you shed a few tears of joy.

The second time was right now: you watched as a strung-out Benji fought for his life in the hospital. You don't know how long it’s been since you got here, and all you could do now was pray to God that he would wake up.

You felt someone put a soft hand on your shoulder. “Sweetheart, you’ve been here for ages.”

Luther gave you a sad smile as he sat next to you. You swallowed the lump in your throat and closed your eyes.

“Why did it have to be him?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “but he’s going to be fine. He always is.”

“I hope…”

“Why don’t you go get some rest? I’ll let you know when he wakes up,” he offered. He could tell you desperately needed sleep. “Try to relax.”

“Okay…”

It’s a solid four hours later when Benji finally stirs awake.

He blinks and rubs his eyes. “Luther…? Hey.”

“You’re awake, that’s good,” he stated. “Your blood pressure has gone up a lot since Y/N gave you her blood. If she didn’t, we’d be shipping your ass off to the funeral home.”

“She did what now?”

“She gave you her blood. Doc asked around but none of our types matched yours, except hers.”

“Oh.”

“I told her she’d pass out if she kept crying after the blood transfusion, but she cried the whole day. She first cried when you didn’t wake up. And now she’s going to start crying because you woke up. She worries about you a lot, you know. So much so that she often neglects her own well-being.”

A strange feeling works its way through Benji’s system. You cared… “Can you tell her I want to see her now?”

“Sure.”

A few moments later, you walk through the door—obvious tear tracks on your face—and sit by his bedside. “Benjamin Dunn, what the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t. Sorry…”

“You almost died.” You looked away and hastily wiped at your eyes. It didn’t help. “I watched you bleed out on the pavement and almost lose your life.”

He doesn’t know what else to say, so he simply reaches out and intertwines your fingers together, squeezing tight. More tears slip down your cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m just glad you’re not in a body bag,” you choked out. “I’m just really glad you’re not dead.”

“Me too. Now come here,” Benji says, and he moves over on his bed to make room for you. You rest your head against his chest and close your eyes, and he drapes an arm across your waist. “Thank you for waiting.”

You end up falling asleep to the sound of his steady heartbeat.

+i (v). it's always been you

It's hot as hell outside, your clothes are sticking to your skin, and you're sure that one hit would set you on fire.

“Why did we have to go into the middle of the damn Arabian desert?” Benji yells over the howling winds into his comm. He coughs as some sand gets into his mouth. “You can’t even build a sandcastle with this crap. I regret everything I said about disliking being in the van.”

“No idea!” you yell back. You wrap your protective scarves tighter around your head and mouth, and adjust your goggles. A loud bang! makes you flinch, causing you to quickly whip around and pull out your gun.

“Woah there, it's just me,” Ethan raised his hands in surrender. You slowly lowered your weapon. “Did you get the flashdrive?”

You nodded and quickly handed him the small piece of metal. He stores it away in his pocket before zipping it up. “Let's go.”

It takes another hour and a half to round up the whole team and escape safely. The sandstorm was worsening by the second and you would be incredibly lucky to escape relatively unscathed.

You’re breathing heavily as you board the helicopter and take off your equipment, leaning against the wall. You could still feel the man’s hands around your throat, trying to squeeze the life out of you.

The look of fury in Benji’s eyes as he pulled the trigger was permanently burned into the back of your mind. You’d never seen him that angry before—he was nowhere near what you’d call short-tempered. The most upset you’d ever seen him was when Ethan ate the last of his favorite potato chips a month ago. And even then, he didn’t raise his voice.

Benji crouches down in front of you and brings a cold towel to your face. It comes away stained a light crimson, and he tries not to panic. “Are…are you okay?”

“I'm okay,” you exhale. “Thanks for saving my ass out there. If you hadn't gotten there in time…"

“You're welcome,” he replies. “Why is it that we always take turns saving each other from near death experiences?”

“It's all part of the job,” you crack a grin. “Welcome to the IMF, where you go on suicide missions all the time but you're not allowed die. Pretty ironic if you ask me.”

“I know, right?” He sounds like he's going to say something else, but then pauses. Upon peering closer, he sees a series of blue and purple handprint splotches on the sides of your neck. “Y/N…”

“I'm okay, I promise,” you say quickly. “Don't worry about me.”

“I don't get how you can stay so calm in situations like this,” he says, exasperated. “You scare me sometimes.”

“It's no big deal, really.” But your voice cracks, and that's when you finally break down and burst into tears. “I’m used to danger. I just—”

“Hey hey hey, it's going to be alright,” he murmurs as he moves closer to bring you in for a hug, arms snaking around you and holding on as tight as he possibly could. Your tears slowly begin to stain his shirt with dark spots, but he couldn't care less. “You're safe and you're going to be okay. You are going to be okay because I'll be here for you. Always.”

“You promise?”

“Pinky promise.” He holds his pinky out, and you wrap your finger around his. “I swear on my life. I’m here to stay whether you like it or not.”

The words slip out before you could even realize what you were saying.

“God, I love you,” you mumbled against his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut. “More than anything. I should’ve…I really should’ve told you a long time ago. I don’t know why I waited so long to tell you. You felt like home to me and I found comfort in that and I loved you so much for it, Benji. I still do.”

The air suddenly feels heavy and that’s when the weight of what you had said finally sinks in. It feels like an eternity of awkward, strained silence all around before he opens his mouth to reply.

“I love you too,” he says, “Always have.”

And as your lips touch, all the aches and pains and barely-recovering broken bones seem to disappear. You can’t even remember why you were so upset in the first place because you’re safe here with him and he’s finally, finally kissing you, and all you really need to think about is the fact that the man you truly loved and needed more than anything had been right here all along and it was perfect.

The ride home is a long one, so you allow yourself to relax in his comforting arms and drift away to a distant dreamland. Ethan gently nudges Luther in the shoulder, motioning for him to take a glance back at the sight.

“You owe me twenty,” he reminds him with a toothy grin.

tags, including ppl who may be interested (lmk if you'd like to be added, or you can add yourself via this form!): @kenobismullet @voguesir @fl0ating @lady-elena-adeline

once again, my taglist has not been updated in a hot second, so i'm not sure which users are still active/if they've switched to another url. i apologize for any potential inconveniences !!

#benji dunn #benji dunn x reader #mission impossible #mission impossible: dead reckoning #mission impossible au #benji dunn x you #benji dunn imagine #mission impossible: fallout #mission impossible: rogue nation #mission impossible imagine

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nekoannie-chan · 2 months

Text

Olden

Title: Olden.

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Steve Rogers X Modified!Reader.

Word count: 258 words.

Square: A3 “Body horror.”

Rating: Teen.

Summary: Steve cannot save his beloved ones from HYDRA.

Major Tags: Kidnapping, body horror.

Additional tags: This my entry to @steverogersbingo Steve Rogers Bingo round 3. SB3090.

Links: Wattpad, Ao3, Spanish version.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @harrysthiccthighss @marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989 @somegirlfromasgard @rogersbarber

Early 1945

Everyone was talking about what a great team you and Steve were and the missions to overthrow HYDRA so far, even though you had lost Bucky.

With this latest mission, you were hoping to finally get to the Red Skull; however, you had a feeling that a group of Hydra agents surrounded you and Steve. The last thing you remembered was seeing Steve's shield, and then everything went dark; you didn't know for how long.

2012

Steve entered Fury's office with a serious look on his face. He found it odd that he was being called urgently.

“We think we've found Y/N," Nick said bluntly.

“Excuse me?“ Steve was skeptical; his last few days had been a bit strange, and the last thing he needed was a joke.

Nick proceeded to explain that they weren't sure it was you since everything seemed to indicate that they had tried to weaponize you to serve Hydra.

Steve looked at you, waiting for you to wake up. He didn't know how he was going to explain everything that had happened all those years ago.

“Steve... You died, didn't you? Or so I heard." Your voice sounded confused as if you didn't know what had happened to you.

Steve made a huge effort to smile. Even though he wanted to cry, he had already been told about all the modifications HYDRA had made to you to turn you into another one of her killing machines.

“A lot of things happened, Y/N, but don't worry, we're in this together.“

#Steve Rogers Bingo Round 3 #steve rogers x reader

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olderthannetfic · 3 months

Note

People going to you to say they didn't like a book instead of just posting that in their own blog and blocking the rabid fans is so fucking sad to me. Is this where we're at? Instead of blocking the sea of lost teens and 20-somethings in the dark academia tag who try to use "dark academia" as a substitute for having to develop their own interests and hobbies, we're now going to whisper on anon, "I don't like this one book"? That's how scared of negative interaction people are? It's the dark academia fandom. They're morons. They don't even argue with you that The Secret History is good, they reply with your post quoted and emojis inserted inbetween every sentence and think they're big smarty smart-smarts who showed you, or they say you didn't get it. "The fandom is absolutely insane" by what metric? Speaking as someone who's been sent suicide bait, death threats, rape threats, pictures of dead animals, Holocaust pics and actual CSEM by other fandoms, if you're too afraid of someone replying, "wow lmao ur not smart like us u no get it" or spamming your original post's text with emojis, maybe you're not old enough to be on tumblr or be reading a book aimed at adults.

The fact that people are now so afraid of pushback that they won't even say they dislike something off anon is honestly really pathetic. This is like people on Reddit who say, "I wouldn't say this if I weren't deleting my account later today, but I don't like MCU movies." It's the same vibe and I have the same question: you know you can just block people if they cry about shit you say, right? I got sent a dead rat once by a Yandere Simulator fan and the police + a restraining order is basically blocking but for RL, but most people in the fandom for The Secret History aren't going to actually interact with another person. They don't even usually bother to write fic or make art for it, they just repost quotes from it with some pics they swiped off of Pinterest for it.

Those are the people who you're so afraid of that you can't even say, "I don't like a book" lest they hurt you. You're afraid of Pinterest moodboard makers who ask things like, "what religion is the most dark academia? I want to convert to that" with a straight face who think wearing a white button-down shirt and brown pants makes them the embodiment of wealth and class and quiet luxury.

As someone who's actually had interactions with crazy fans IRL - especially Star Wars fans, as they're almost all frothing at the mouth to rant about how much they hate Star Wars - I am happy to report that this is a survivable thing and not one you need to be so afraid of that you don't dare mention it for fear of backlash.

Speak freely. Block people. Move on. Their tears are embarrassing for them, not you.

I spent some time in anon spaces, and it felt like a nice break at the time... but I have to say, I really notice the difference now that I'm findable again. For all the shit that comes my way, a hell of a lot of people have tried to befriend me over the last few years. I wouldn't have met any of them if I hadn't been visible.

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azsazz · 2 years

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Not Me

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Request from @in-some-fandoms : omg what about some hurt fic where azriel says someone’s name (elain/mor/qwyn) while having sex with the reader ? i’m in need to cry 😂

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2,864

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Your gasp turns into a moan when he presses into you at a new angle, arching up into his warm, muscular body, his hand grasped firmly in yours, pinning you to the bed. He kisses harshly down the column of your throat, sucking marks into your skin that will last for days, a reminder to him and everyone who sets their eyes on you who gets to bed you.

He’s pushing closer to the edge with every thrust, you can feel the pleasure pulsing through the bond and you revel in it, high off of the euphoria of emotions coursing through you, nearing you to your own orgasm.

Azriel is slamming into you now, chasing that feeling once more, only the one you and your gorgeous body can give him. He’s grunting breathlessly into your ear, each exhale curling a warm caress around your ear and you shut your eyes tightly as shivers make their way down the side of your neck from the sensation.

His hips stutter and he gasps against your skin as he releases into you, “Fuck–Gwyn.”

And your heart plummets in your chest.

You feel utterly sick at what he’s just said, struggling underneath him as he tries to get ahold of you when he realizes his mistake. He hisses when you manage to push him off and his cock slips out of you, his orgasm still wracking his body.

He calls out for you as you slip out of the bed as fast as you can, heart in your throat and biting your lip so harshly it starts bleeding, but the cries you so desperately want to let out stay trapped within your shaking body.

Azriel is too late, and he desperately slams up against the bathroom door you’ve just shut yourself in, collapsing on the other side.

You feel utterly disgusting, with his seed dripping out of you as you curl up into yourself, heart slamming in your chest and ears ringing with the words that escaped his mouth.

He had said another female's name. Not just any female, one that he had been known to seek out before he’d met you.

“(Y/N), please, Love, just listen to me,” he pleads. His knocks are gentle but his words are not, desperate for you to hear him out.

You can feel his regret bubbling in your own body, and it’s too much. You’re already feeling awfully betrayed and hurt beyond words, never did you think of Azriel the type of male to do something like this, but as you listen to the banging on the other side of the locked door, you know you need to get away.

You can’t think like this, can’t wrap your mind around what just happened. He hadn’t shown any signs of wanting anyone else, in fact you were so confident in the bond that you’d accepted it only after a few meetings.

All of the lovely things that his family had said about him, the amazing things he’s done for you, all it means is that he was trying to keep you happy while he was thinking of a different girl.

You had even considered yourself friends with Gwyn, and you knew that Azriel was quite the beauty. If you had to fight off all of the females that made eyes at him you’d be stuck in a constant battle. But perhaps the soft teal eyes and shy smiles from the auburn haired priestess were mistaken, maybe they were actually suggestive glances and sultry smirks, trying to pry the two of you apart.

“Go away,” you choke, the first hot tear sears down your cheek and then the floodgates open. You sniffle, trying to swallow back your emotions until you’re alone, “Leave me alone.”

“Please,” he begs, and the fear in his voice nearly steals your breath away. He almost sounds sincere.

You shake your head, rubbing your eyes frustrated, “I don’t want to see you.”

“It’s not what you think,” he tries, and you swear you can hear the thickness in his voice, like he’s about to cry as well.

You stumble to your feet before hearing him like that, an absolutely broken male, has you opening the door against your better judgment. You turn the knobs to the tub, the water raging in loudly, splashing against the stone bottom, drawing out his pleas.

And it’s when the knocking on the door and his requests fall silent that you allow yourself to break down. Sitting on the cold side of the tub, feet planted firmly into the cold floor beneath your feet, nude as the day you were born, you sob like you’ve never sobbed before.

__________

It was only when you had run out of tears that you filled the tub with scalding hot water and settled in, eyes puffy and throat sore from your cries.

You scrubbed at your skin, wanting to wash away his touch, his scent. It was all over you, his musk, the one you couldn’t get enough of was now making you sick to your stomach.

The only thing you couldn’t rid yourself of were the bruises he’d kissed so lovingly into your skin. You shuddered at yourself in the mirror as you brushed through the tangles in your hair, pulling the strands away from the tender marks.

Was he thinking of her even while he did that? You didn’t want to know.

You move quickly, dressing in warm clothes and letting the house guide you to the door. Azriel was away, where you didn’t care to find out. Maybe he’d already gone to Gwyn. You swallow the lump in your throat at the thought as you take off down the street, the lights of the Townhouse becoming dimmer the farther you get into the heart of Velaris.

Winter had just begun but you felt like you were in the heart of the season with the harsh winds and damp hair. You had bundled up but not enough, your teeth chattering and finger numb as you maneuvered the empty streets, trudging through the few inches of snow that lie on the ground, as pure and bright as your relationship with your mate had been. You stomp extra hard through the powder, kicking the sticky clumps down the street as you go.

There was one thing you were thankful for in this moment; that you’d kept your own apartment even after your mating ceremony with Azriel. It was nice to have a place of your own, somewhere to go while he was away on missions. While you loved the rest of the Inner Circle they didn’t seem to have many boundaries, and you liked to have time to yourself.

Kicking the door shut and locking it behind you you set the hearth ablaze, slipping out of your sopping wet boots and coat, snagging your favorite thick-knit blanket off of the couch and settling down by the fire. You keep your mind focused on getting warm instead of the burning anger within you.

But the feeling couldn’t be doused. How could he do such a thing? You couldn’t seem to wrap your mind around it still. Azriel never seemed like the type. But he was the most secretive person in all of Prythian, so how would you have even guessed?

Everything weighs heavily on you, crying your eyes out after you locked yourself away from him, trekking through the cold city to your apartment. The warmth of the fire hugging you tightly lulls you to sleep.

__________

“I’ve been looking for you all over Velaris,” he starts, and you go to slam the door in his face but he catches it with his boot and holds it there. You know he won’t force his way in, that he’ll leave if you want him too, but his hazel eyes are pleading and he looks like he hasn’t slept since you left two days ago. Like all of this was just as hard on him as it is on you.

“How did you find me Azriel?” you ask tiredly, taking your time and assessing his bloodshot eyes, rimmed with purple. His shadows had skittered around him lazily until you opened the door, then they had perked up and had aimed straight towards you, excited to see you. But the shadowsinger had reigned them in, and now they swirled around him angrily, one even going so far as to swat at Azriel’s head.

He glares at the shadow and rubs the back of his head, “I’m a spymaster,” he says like it's answer enough.

You give him a pointed look and say instead, “You’re right. I should’ve asked you what you’re doing here.” You shove into the door with good measure.

“(Y/N),” he winces. He hadn’t spoken your name out loud since you’d ordered him away that night. He had fucked up majorly, he knew that, and his shadows knew it too. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t get them to do the things they normally would, and they searched for you every room he entered. They missed you as much as he did, and he scoured the town for any signs of you, cursing himself for teaching you the little about being unoticeable that he did.

A natural spy, you were.

“I know that I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I am so sorry, Love,” you flinch at the pet name, “Please let me explain.”

“As far as I’m concerned there’s nothing to explain,” you respond, still keeping your weight firmly behind the door, “You said someone else’s name, Azriel. I was there. I know what happened.”

“I didn’t mean to say her name,” he pleads, and you roll your eyes because of course he would say that he didn’t mean to.

Azriel sighs but removes his boot from where it’s jammed in the entryway, “I won’t force you to listen to me (Y/N),” and you go to shut the door on him but he isn’t done speaking, tugging sharply on the bond to snag your attention, pausing you in the act for only a moment. “But that bond that we have? It’s exactly the reason that I’m right here now, and will be until you hear me out. You are mine, (Y/N), you hear that? You are the only thing I want and will ever want. So you can shut the door on me now, but that doesn’t mean I’ll be leaving.”

And the look in his eyes was so honest that it hurt you to shut the door on him, but it was something that needed to be done. You still couldn’t think about him without remembering what he had done, the words that had spilled from his mouth.

***

For three days he sat outside of your apartment, and for three days you tried to get him to leave.

It was as if you could feel him on the other side of the wall as you lay in your bed, sheets tucked up high underneath your chin, struggling to find solace in the night. You knew he could sense your emotions through the bond, that he was not sleeping either, the floor hard underneath his ass.

But you also knew he wouldn’t give up. He was the spymaster of the Night Court, born with endless patience and determination.

Your neighbors had even complained, your landlord tacking a note to your door about removing the Illyrian brute from the hallway as he was scaring the tenants, and that if you did not remove him, you would no longer have an apartment.

That’s what had finally done it. That and the fact that you missed him so dearly, knowing he was just on the other side of that door, waiting for you. He had stewed in his thoughts for long enough, you decided, as you pulled the door open late one night and he was perched on the ground, hands folded in his lap like sitting against the wall was the most comfortable thing he’d ever sat on.

His head rolled to the side on his shoulders, peering up at you as you stood in the threshold of your home, nodding into the open door so that he’d follow you.

He does without a sound.

“Sit,” you offer, waving your hand to the spot across the couch from you. You can hardly look at him, wishing you had something to occupy your jittery hands other than the fabric of your nightwear.

The utter silence is unbearable, so you look at him pointedly to begin speaking, heart spiking with hurt when he jolts beneath your harsh lgaze.

“While we were…” he trails off, trying to find the right thing to say.

“Fucking?”

“Making love,” he protests, eyes hard and flinching at the word you’d suggested. If he truly had wanted Gwyn, then the only way you could have described what the two of you were doing was fucking.

You sit back in your seat and cross your arms over your chest, ignoring the pang of hurt you know is coming from your mate across from you.

“Rhys mind-spoken to me that Gwyn was injured,” he rubs his nervous hands against his leathers, the siphons atop of them shining dully, but his eyes stay locked on yours, honest and true. You still for a moment, eyes widening at his admission. She was hurt?

“How badly?” your voice wavers at your question. You knew about Gwyn, she had told you herself, and you hadn’t wanted any harm to come to her.

He shrugs, “She was on a mission with the Valkyries,” he licks his lips, “She had a pretty bad cut across her back and Rhys needed me to bring her back to be healed. Winnowing was the quickest and safest option.”

“Is she okay?” your stomach is in knots for another reason now. You were furious that it was her name he had said, but you were still worried for the priestess.

“She’s going to be fine, but I’m more worried about you,” he gently takes your hand in his and you let him, “I am so sorry (Y/N). I’m sorry for saying her name, because I know how it must’ve seemed. If it were a males name that came from your mouth instead I would’ve burned the world down in rage.” He shakes the thought from his mind, “And I’m sorry for leaving you afterwards, I had to bring her to the healers. But I came right back after and you were gone.” You can hear the devastation in his broken voice. You had felt the fear burning in your own soul when he’d found out that you had gone, it rivaled the feelings of betrayal brewing within your own.

“It slipped. I promise on the Mother that I wasn’t thinking of another female, all I ever do is think about you in any capacity at all times of the day. I love you, and my body and soul is yours to do with as you please.” Words are caught in your throat, you don’t know what to say, so he keeps speaking, a desperate plea, “So break it if you must, but I will never stop loving you (Y/N), not even until my last breath and I become one with the Earth.”

“Azriel,” you breathe. And how can you not believe the male in front of you, begging with his heart and soul, baring it to you so openly, and letting you take the final blow or mend his heart. He knows he’s done wrong, admitted it fully, and explained what the mistake had been, that it wasn’t your fault, that he knows what he’d done wrong.

He waits patiently, eyes big and round, hands tucked firmly around yours.

“I understand now,” is what you go with because you don’t really know what else to say. You know that you won’t be telling him that it’s okay, and by the way his eyes soften and his wings sag, he knows you aren’t going to say that either. “I accept your apology, and it better not happen again.”

“It won’t,” he replies, quickly and eagerly as you tug him up from his spot on the sofa and lead him towards your room. You settle down into your bed, the one that’s felt so empty since you’d been alone, pulling on his hands to let him know it’s okay to follow.

Azriel slips out of his boots and leathers quickly, climbing in next to you, pulling you closer to him. His warmth seeps into your skin and you already know you’re going to have one of the best slumbers of your life now that your mate is back.

“I love you so much, (Y/N),” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear and pressing a kiss against your forehead, “More than you could ever know.” And he lets you feel it through the bond for a moment, the way you make him feel, and it’s enough for your breath to catch in your throat and your eyes to fill with tears.

“I love you too Az,” you sigh, shutting your eyes, “I love you too.”

#Azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #acotar #acomar #acowar #acomaf #azsazz #az #azriel x you #azriel/you #shadowsinger #spymaster

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koorinokujira · 2 months

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Transformers thoughts that wouldn't leave me alone - Forgotten melodies of eld

I have a bit of a tendency to overthink my favorite media and make strange associations with other things, and Transformers is no different right now. Those robots are spinning in my head like leftover pasta in a microwave. Anyhow, last night I was thinking about Cybertronian music.

(Ramble incoming! Also I might get stuff wrong, I am still fairly new in the fandom, after all. So please, forgive my potential ignorance.)

Now, there usually isn't that much lore on it from what I've seen, which absolutely sucks and I need more. What I've also noticed is that there often seems to be more of a focus on the musical instruments (which I also definitely need more lore on), rather than vocals. And hoo boy do I have thoughts about that specificallly.

Cybertronians have voice boxes, right? And considering their mechanical anatomy, it's pretty safe to say that they can hold on for way longer than our vocal cords. After all, it's not like a computer or its speakers start breaking down after a few hours of music being played continuously. Of course, such a voice box would be more complex, and there are definitely some more unique ways for it to break or damage, but... I generally like to think they are pretty durable when they are used for speech or song. Which brings me to the concept which I decided to call "mechanical elves", or something to that effect.

Now, what does that even mean? It's simple; I was inspired by the portrayal of elven music in various fantasy media, like J. R. R. Tolkien's works. Songs that reach the deepest parts of your soul in an ancient, ellegant language, voices that sing heartwrenching ballads for hours on end about tragedies that happened millennia ago. And I thought... wouldn't that work for Cybertron? Or at least, Cybertron in its beginnings?

You have a race of giant, mechanical beings, many of which have lived for millions of years. And they do love their music, even if we often have no idea what it's like and get only snippets from their culture. You have people like Blaster, who is literally nicknamed "The Voice" in the IDW1 comics and uses his voice to inspire his fellow Autobots, among other things. Just their voice boxes alone have so much potential, and that just makes me feel stuff, honestly.

Why wouldn't they sing for incredible amounts of time without stopping, at least when the times weren't so complicated just yet?

Did the first Cybertronian who ever hummed a melody feel so much joy that he simply kept going and couldn't stop, before excitedly teaching others? When a friendship started to feel more than it already was, did the night start with a passionate serenade sung by a singular voice, which, as the hours went by, turned into a duet full of affectionate words to one another? When a Cybertronian died for the first time, did his brothers sing for his memory, and to survive the sorrow as they had no tears to weep?

Mechanical voices crying out in raw emotion to let the world know they're there, only for others to answer. Languages and dialects no longer spoken, beautifully haunting melodies long forgotten. And as the time went on, the world started to get more and more quiet, before the old compositions finally gave way to the new ones. Perhaps the Titans who yet live still remember a few notes or words once sung.

All that's left of the beginnings now is a requiem doubling as an ode to hope.

Its words?

"'Til all are one."

#alright alright this turned from a headcanon to a story real quick #but i couldn't help myself #i value music as a form of expression quite a bit #and the idea of ancient forgotten music just GETS me okay #let the robots make art and tell us more about it #i would literally pay to have a mini-series dedicated to pre-war cybertron and its culture #transformers #transformers hc #transformers headcanon #maccadam #transformers analysis #kinda(?)

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sister-lucifer · 1 year

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Comfort From a Monster

Eyeless Jack x Gender Neutral Reader

Genre: Angst, comfort, fluff

A/N: been goin through some stuff lately, so i wrote some fluff about it

Summary: Your beloved Jack notices that you’re upset, and comforts you the best he can

Content/Warnings: Technically angst, but mostly comfort/fluff, cuddles with Jacky, the reason reader is upset is left vague so please feel free to project /gen, tooth rotting fluff, Jack is non verbal but makes animal noises and it’s CUTE ok

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

There had been something off about you since the moment your feet hit the floor that day. Jack was freakishly observant and incredibly intuitive; it wasn’t hard for him to pick up on your odd change in attitude. Even the most minuscule things caught his attention.

You forgot to put on your house shoes when you got out of bed this morning, and it made your footsteps sound weird. You didn’t put back the cereal box after you were done, he had to put it up for you. You left your hairbrush out on the bathroom counter, but you always put it away when you were done.

Small things. Mundane things. And yet, they piled up like snowflakes coming together to form an avalanche.

His pointed ears perked up when he heard your bedroom door click shut.

You never did that.

Something was very, very wrong.

Jack’s padded paws were silent on the wood floors of your shared cabin as he slowly approached your room. His tentative ears flicked about in all directions as he listened closely from the opposite side of the door.

For a very long while there was silence, and for a split second Jack doubted his instincts. Maybe his suspicions were just an overreaction, maybe you were just having an off day…

Maybe it’s best that he doesn’t bother you.

Jack shrugs to himself, brushing off his worries. He turns on his heel and is about to walk away when—

He hears that first little sob.

It’s so quiet, it’s clear you’re trying to hide it. A sound so meek that only a creature like Jack could hear it. It stops him in his tracks, the only thing that could ever still such a hulking beast. He turns his head back towards the door slowly, all of his senses on high alert.

The second choked noise is clearer, harder to stifle, loud enough for a nearby human to hear. It only gives way to another cry, and Jack can nearly pinpoint the exact moment you give up on holding back your emotions. Before he even realizes it he’s back at the door, ear pressed to the wood as he listens. There’s a split second where he thinks that maybe, just maybe he can hear your tears falling onto your blankets.

For a moment he’s at a loss. Emotional support has never been his forte. He’ll gladly fight for you, hunt for you, protect you with his life, but comfort you?

Even his best attempt would probably do more bad than good for your relationship.

He ponders for a long few minutes, soundlessly pacing back and forth in front of your door. He hugs himself with a tight grip, claws digging into his upper arms through the fabric of his hoodie. His mind is racing as he wonders what to do.

Should he simply leave you be? That could backfire easily. He didn’t want you to feel ignored, and he’d feel guilty about just leaving you to suffer on your own.

But he what if he goes in and tries to help? He’s bound to screw that up. He could just make things awkward, or maybe even make you feel worse.

How is he supposed to figure out what you need? He’s not a mind reader, and it’s not like he can just walk up and ask you!

…Oh, he…he actually can do that.

Jack could kick himself for his stupidity. The answer was staring him in the face.

And yet, he hesitates when he lifts his fist to the door. He has to shake off that last bit of doubt before he can bring himself to knock.

The sound makes you jump, and for a second you wonder if you simply imagined it.

“J…Jack…?” You call out with a rasp. The animalistic chitter from the other side of the door answers your question.

“You can come in, Jack.”

You quickly wipe your tears as he slowly creaks the door open, as if he’s giving you another chance to change your mind. When you don’t, he carefully shuts the door back behind him before approaching you where you sit snuggled up in countless blankets on your bed.

A deep sound reverberates quietly in the back of his throat as he crouches by your side, head tilting curiously from side to side. He doesn’t say anything, but you know exactly what he’s asking.

“I’m okay, Jack. Just some…personal stuff. I’m sorry if I made you worry.”

Your voice is broken and strained, and it makes Jack’s brows furrow behind his mask. He lets out another inquisitive chitter, but you don’t quite understand this time, and it’s your turn to tilt your head in confusion. Jack’s clawed hands come up to briefly sign:

‘Wanna talk about it?’

You think for a moment, then shake your head.

“No, Jacky, I don’t think I want to talk about it. I appreciate it, though.”

He nods, taking in the information and mulling it over a bit before he proposes something else:

‘Can I touch you? Hug you?’

You scoot over a bit, patting the space on the bed next to you.

“Yeah, thats okay. C’mon up, Jacky.”

He quickly crawls in next to you, wrapping his strong arms around your smaller frame. His movements are cautious, slow enough that you could stop him if you wanted to. You don’t, though; you gladly accept the gesture and return the hug.

Jack pulls you down to him, bringing you to lay down. He tenderly rubs up and down your arms in the most soothing manner he can manage. You sniffle a bit as you cling to his hoodie, tugging on the fabric. The feeling of the worn material against your palms is familiar and comforting in a way that nothing else has ever managed to be. The remaining tears finally fall down your cheeks, and you watch as they soak into the hoodie.

You don’t realize that Jack has slipped his mask off until he’s purring into the crook of your neck. Your hand slides up to lay flat against his chest, and you can feel the soft rumble beneath his skin. Something about the sound sends a wave of calm through you, the volume crescendoing and quieting subtly as Jack breathes in and out.

Slowly you find your own breathing leveling out as well, allowing yourself a few purposeful, deep inhales that enter through your nose and leave through your mouth. Jack’s hand moves from your arm to your back, scratching up and down slowly and being careful not to hurt you with his razor like nails.

You pull away from Jack for a moment to slide down, resting your head against his chest and feeling the vibrations of his purr against your temple. You know he doesn’t have a heartbeat—not anymore—but you could almost swear you hear a few thumps behind his ribs.

Your eyelids begin to flutter when Jack affectionately strokes the back of your head. His hands are so massive they nearly engulf your skull, and yet you can’t help but be reminded of how safe you feel in his arms. Every little thing he does reminds you.

The caution he uses with each move is subtle enough that only you would ever see it; it shows you that he knows his strength, and that he’d never risk hurting you in even a minor way. He’s not warm like a human would be, but he’s been more than effective at calming your shivering body. He smells like your freshly cleaned sheets and the pine trees surrounding your cabin in all directions, with a hint of the dirt that never seems to fully wash out.

Small things. Mundane things. And yet, they spoke volumes of Jack’s feelings towards you.

In the arms of no other would you ever feel so welcomed.

You lay there together for such a long while that Jack doesn’t even realize you’ve fallen asleep until he looks down at you again. He’s not sure how long your eyes have been shut, but he can tell you’re sleeping well. You probably needed it. He wouldn’t be surprised if your stress was taking time from your rest.

He adjusts his position just a bit, making sure he’s comfortable before deciding he may as well catch some shut eye too. He plants a lingering kiss on your forehead before tightening his hold on you just a bit, and before he falls asleep there is one last thought that rings in his mind:

There was a time when he thought he’d never be able to have this. There was a time when he was convinced he would simply have to tough it out on his own until his last day. The idea that he ever believed such a thing is almost surreal as he lays here with you, his precious human, his mate.

Jack could gladly spend the rest of his life in this quaint little cabin with you, and he wouldn’t hesitate to say he was perfectly fulfilled.

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta fluff #gender neutral reader #eyeless jack #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack fluff #eyeless jack headcanon #eyeless jack x y/n #fluff #comfort #angst #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #tooth rotting fluff

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