#I’m the cause of everything wrong and no matter how hard I try nothing works

[heartfeltcherie]

PERIOD COMFORT WITH LUCIFER

that man built like a portable heater

he probably purrs too

DOUBLE DATE ᡣ𐭩

❀ summary; lucifer comforts you during that time of the month

❀ what to lookout for; descriptions of monthly, lucifer being a dork

❀ extra notes; i"m back from my trip! i actually got back yesterday but i wanted a day to just relax but now, have this draft that i've been waiting to post!

- when you get your time of the month, it hits hard and ever so painfully.

- it sometimes causes you to feel so ill that you can do nothing but curl up in a ball with a heating pad to stop the pain.

- when lucifer finds out that you’ve started your monthly, it doesn’t matter if there’s a meeting scheduled or if he’s made plans to work on more dubber ducks — he’s at your service.

“do you need anything else? more advil? another blanket? another pillow? i could get you some chocolate, i heard it’s really good for easing cramps-”

“luci!” you interrupt him from his rambling.

“what?! what’s wrong?! are you okay?!” he’s kneeling beside you on the couch, eye level with you.

“i’m good. everything is perfect. thank you”

lucifer takes your hand, kissing the inside of your palm then resting it against his cheek.

“you’re perfect”

- when you’re napping, he always makes sure that you’re heating pad is turned on and at the highest heat because he knows that’s how you like it.

- back on the chocolate thing, he will sit beside you on the couch with your head resting on a pillow on his lap, feeding you a chocolate bar piece by piece.

- will make it his duty to rub/massage your back and carry you around in his arms at the slightest mention of back or hip pain.

“maybe i should make it a new rule that every man has to try a monthly cramps simulator, just to see what women go through every month”

“luci, honey, you can barely handle when you stub your toe”

❀ word count; too lazy to count

reblogs/hearts/comments and all that good stuff are appreciated !

audience; @crystalrayn @drxgonspine @alastorthirsty @speedycoffeedelight

© heartfeltcherie

[sensitivegoblin]

..

[snickerdoodie]

Any hc’s for Scott (twisters) who is only not an asshole when he’s around his s/o? Others see him being sweet to her and are like wtf why can’t be be that nice to us 🥲

No cause I’ve also been obsessed with that idea of him for so long, ahhh. He seems like such a “I care about you and you only” kinda guy and it just fuels my obsession

A/N: this is my first time ever writing anything like head canons so if it’s goofy I apologize in advance. Not proofread as usual. Also I really hope it was anything like you expected 😭. But anyway, enjoy!

Scott Miller Headcanons

Right off the bat, I think we can all agree talking is not one of Scott’s strong suits. The only times he really talks is when he’s proposing ideas to Riggs and Javi about potential deals. So when the team finds him willingly chatting with you after a day of collecting data, they all just short circuit.

Like hello?? Are they dreaming??? Wtf going on???? Like out of everybody to talk to you choose him??? And they’re not even mad they’re just..they have no clue what to think, they’ve never seen him look so at ease before lmao. There’s no permanent scowl on his face or anything, just his baritone voice mixing with your own. Ngl it creeped them out at first, they really thought the world was ending that night.

Javi’s the first to really notice the changes in Scotts demeanor around you; the quick glances, the ever so slight smiles, and even the smallest touches like his thumb rubbing over the back of your hand when he’s giving a speech, he’s seen it all.

Speaking of, I just know that Scott’s love language has got to be either words of affirmation or physical touch. He loves hearing you tell him how much he matters to you, or how you remember small things about him, it just makes him smile. For him being a not very vocal person, it’s hard for him to tell you straight up how much he cares for you. It doesn’t even have to be gentle or meaningful words, making witty comebacks to his sarcastic remarks is always enough for him.

But his way of expressing his affection is through small touches. Standing close enough to you where you can smell his cologne, brushes of his fingers to your waist or hand, overall just standing close to you. (Now that I think abt it, that’s a looot more like quality time but whatever☺️)

Anyway, back on topic cuz I’m too easily distracted. The crew really tried their hardest to get Scott to even be remotely nice to them after that. I mean if he was nice to you then he could be nice to them right? Can’t be that hard. Boy oh boy were they wrong…they literally did everything in their power. They bought him coffees on early mornings, made sure he has the nicest, or as nice as they could be, bed sheets at motels, volunteered to do his dirty work of pages and pages of paperwork, but literally nothing worked. All they ever got were blank stared nods or a grumbled ‘thanks.’ At this point they were flabbergasted. How could you get that cocky bastard to even glance at you?? Nevertheless smile at you?

They have up like 5 days after trying lmfao, it was utterly useless to try and make that man any less brooding then he is. After trying through, they realized that all their attempts didn’t go completely wasted.

Scott brought you hot drinks on the chilly nights and morning as you two sat together in the crappy hotel rooms. Stopped smacking his gum whenever you side-eyed him a little too hard, much to everyone’s relief. Always walked you to your room after a late night to make sure you got there safe.

As much as they hated how self centered and blunt Scott was, they all secretly knew how love drunk he was about you. (Don’t bring it up to him, but they’re all secretly jealous they dont get any kind of special treatment

First head canon ask!! I do not think I did very good at it though💀💀. I had ideas in my head but they were not coming out the way I ask. But I hoped you at least liked some of it! I promise to write a better one in the future!

And as always, feel free to comment about anything you liked or didn’t like. Inbox is always open to more ideas! <3

[corroded-hellfire]

Hi gorgeous a fic request idea it's my first time requesting so sorry if I'm doing it wrong! What about reader being insecure about herself and worrying she's not smart or hot enough for Eddie and it's just Eddie being confused bc how could she think that wen he's the town freak?? and then reassuring her and just lots of fluff

Ah, this is so relatable! I know I need Eddie to reassure me. Also, the only way to request wrong is by being rude and you most definitely were not 💕

Words: 1.2k

You’re not sure what caused the recent feeling of inadequacy, but you just can’t shake it. The last few weeks it feels like a storm has been rolling in bit by bit, always adding something new to the pile of things you already dislike about yourself. The little things that have always irked you in the back of your mind steadily keep making their way forward, pushing and shoving like there’s a clearance sale on your happiness and they want first dibs. 

It doesn’t matter that your grades are holding steady because you answered a question wrong in class today when the teacher called on you. You’re such an idiot. There’s a new pimple growing in like a second head near your lips. You’re so gross. The weather be damned, your hair is going to look a wreck rain or shine. You’re such a mess. The clothes the other girls wear are flattering and beautiful, making yours look like dirty dish rags in comparison. You’re such a loser. 

Despite trying your damnedest to hide how you’re feeling from the world, your boyfriend knows you too well for that. Eddie notices the way you lose focus, your attention drifting somewhere else—internally, he’s afraid. 

Your latest zone out is while the two of you are sitting on his couch, watching a movie. A part that you’ve laughed at a million times before comes on and Eddie can tell your brain hasn’t even registered what’s on screen. He keeps stealing glances at you from the corner of his eye, growing more concerned each time. Eventually, he can’t take it anymore. 

“Babe, what’s wrong?”

“Hmm?” You’re broken out of your stupor and meet Eddie’s gaze with glassy eyes.

“What’s going on?” he asks, concern etched deep into his brow.

“What do you mean?” You know your attempt at playing dumb won’t work either—on top of everything else, you’re a shit actress too. 

“You’ve seemed sad lately. Kind of…distant,” Eddie says, taking care to choose his words carefully. He doesn’t want you to feel as if he’s interrogating you but wants to convey his genuine worry and concern.  

Shame floods your body as you realize Eddie has noticed your change lately. Just another thing for you to feel bad about. You shift awkwardly, moving out from under Eddie’s arm, where you were nestled comfortably. 

“N-Nothing’s wrong.”

Eddie gives you a disbelieving look. You can’t blame him; that was some pretty shitty bluffing.

“Sweetheart,” he starts, “you think I don’t know you well enough to tell when something’s wrong? When you’re lying?”

“You do,” you admit, voice low and soft. 

It’s a mutual instinct, though, as you can read Eddie just as well. The sadness in his eyes cracks your heart in two, knowing you’re what’s causing it. 

“Talk to me,” Eddie says, taking one of your hands. He holds your hand in both of his and gently massages it. “What’s wrong?” 

“I don’t know,” you say with a shrug, trying to avoid his eyes. “I just feel…off lately.”

“How so?”

Embarrassment grows inside of you, blooming like a flower—or maybe a weed. It’s hard for you to bring yourself to tell Eddie the truth–it just makes you feel even more pathetic than you already are. There’s no use trying to keep it from him any longer, though. 

“Like I’m not…enough.”

“Enough? Enough of what?” Eddie’s brow furrows in confusion as he keeps rubbing his thumbs along the back of your hands. 

“Well, enough for you,” you admit as you feel your cheeks burn with the humiliation that the truth brings.

“Me?” Eddie’s eyebrows pinch together, and he shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”

You breathe out a defeated sigh that breaks Eddie’s heart and take your hand from his grasp. 

“I see all the other girls,” you say, anger creeping into your tone. Not anger at Eddie or at the other girls; anger at yourself for being so inferior. “They’re so pretty and smart and I can’t help but wonder why you want to be with me.”

Every word you say confuses and shocks Eddie even further.

“You…huh?” Eddie says, mind not able to comprehend what’s going on. In his mind, there is not a single dimension or alternate reality where you aren’t enough for him. It’s simply not possible. 

“I’m not hot enough for you,” you say with a sniffle and a shrug. “Or smart enough. Or nice enough, or funny enough—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Eddie says, waving his hands in front of him. “You’re not serious, are you?”

The look on your face and the tears about to spill from your eyes when you look at him tell him that you are, though. Eddie can’t help but let out a breathy chuckle and shake his head.

Your brow furrows at his laughter and a tear escapes your eye and makes its way down your cheek. Panic flashes in Eddie’s eyes when he sees your reaction and he’s quick to remedy the situation. 

“Oh, no, no!” he says. His hands come up to cup your face and his thumb wipes away your rogue tear. “I don’t think it’s funny. Well, in a way I kind of do. You think you’re not enough for me? Sweetheart, you really have no idea how amazing you are, do you?” When your only reply is another sniffle, Eddie sighs. “I don’t understand how you could think that,” he says. “You do know you’re dating the town freak, right?”

“But you’re not,” you insist defiantly. 

“And you’re not all those mean things you think about yourself.” He lets his hands fall down to your lap and takes your smaller ones in his. “Babe, you’re so insanely hot I can’t even believe you noticed me.”

Eddie chuckles and squeezes your hands. “And aren’t you the one always helping me with homework? Don’t I always get better grades when you help me?”

Eddie sighs and leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. You’re both quiet for a few moments. Eddie lets his eyes slip closed for a second before looking at you once again.  

“I hate that you’ve been feeling so down about yourself. I wish you saw yourself like I do. You’d see that you’re the most beautiful, wonderful woman in the world. Who is smart, who is kind, who is funny, who is everything she tells herself she’s not.” He leans in and presses a soft, sweet kiss against your lips. “I love you. I love you more than anything else in the world,” he tells you.

“I love you, too,” you reply in a whisper, tear tracks staining your cheeks. 

“Now, look at me,” Eddie says. He sits up straight and looks you in the eye.

“I am,” you say in a small voice.

“Am I lying?”

You know him so well, know when he’s telling even the slightest fib. But there’s no sign of that in Eddie’s eyes nor on his face at all. 

“No,” you admit.

“Come here,” Eddie says with a sigh, opening his arms for you.

Immediately you fall into them and nuzzle your face against his shirt. It’s your safe place; everything is always better when your head is on Eddie’s chest.

“Promise you’ll tell me when you have these thoughts, yeah?” he asks and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “And I’ll remind you that they’re not true. That you’re my gorgeous, brilliant girl. Promise me?”

“I promise,” you say, tilting your head up to look him in the eye.

He kisses your lips a few times, punctuating the message of his words. 

“You're my favorite,” he whispers against your mouth as you part. 

“Favorite what?”

“Everything.”

[shypen]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⸻ 𓏵 𝓲 can hear you 𓈒 𓈒

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓈒⠀⠀𓏸 𝓛HS

𝓬ontains . masturbating, sucking, edging, handcuffs, intense imagination ++

𝓰enre . smut

𝓹airings . bestfriend!heeseung x female!reader

req status . open !!

word count: 1.1k

note . reminder everything here is FICTIONAL, meaning NOTHING HERE IS REAL!! these things never happened. | lia if ur seeing this literally do not read this.

MINORS DNI

©️ shypen 2024 do not copy, plagiarize or repost

“i forgot my wallet at the party, see you,” heeseung sighs, grabbing his jacket and walking out the door.

the party?

yeah, the party you and heeseung went to one hour ago. you couldn’t forget that. goodness, he looked so fine. you weren’t even paying the slightest attention to your friends when all you could do was stare at him from afar.

but whatever—all that matters now is that you’re alone. in your dorm, alone.

you make your way toward your room, a smile forming on your face as the door creaks open. you shut the door closed, hurriedly grabbing your laptop and carelessly throwing it on the bed. was this wrong? maybe. but you can’t help it.

laying down on the plush pillows of your bed, you grab your laptop and open it. your wallpaper? a photo of heeseung. almost immediately, you close your legs. this is wrong—he’s your roommate, but.. you can’t really help it.

contrary to your leg’s current position, you spread them open. you take off your shorts, and you see your wetness already visible through your panties. you set your panties aside, and you let your imagination go wild again.

imagine.

heeseung eating you out—it’s been in your head ever since you kept stealing glimpses at him back at the party. you’ve done this many times before—touching yourself as you imagine the things heeseung could do to you. today, your gonna let yourself absolutely relax. the party is 30 minutes away, he’ll take about an hour and a half ‘til he gets back to the dorm. just enough time.

snap.

“s-shoot—” you stammer as you touch yourself, rubbing your clit. “heeseung—”

imagine.

“s-shoot— heeseung—” you moan out, and heeseung takes his tongue out of you to look up at you. “too much baby?” he scoffs, diving back in, slipping his tongue into you, causing you to let out a gasp followed by a small whimper. if only this was real.

snap.

instead of his tongue, your finger slips inside you, causing you to let out that gasp from your imagination. speaking of imagination..

imagine.

“say my name again, baby. let me hear how good im making you feel,” heeseung groans, and you can feel his warm breath on your hungry clit. “heeseung—” you whimper, and heeseung lets out a moan at the sound of his name slipping out of your mouth. “good girl… let’s give you a reward, huh?” he says, before you could respond, two of his fingers slip inside of you, causing you to flinch, the handcuffs around your wrists rattle at the sudden movement.

“h-heeseung—” you try to protest but you interrupt yourself with moans and whimpers, and he smiles, satisfied. as he pumps the two fingers in you, he starts to get closer before licking your slit, teasing you slightly before placing his tongue inside you, his fingers and his tongue simultaneously working together to try to get you to reach your breaking limit. in this fake universe, you two have done this many times, heeseung knows your body well, knowing all your g-spots and everything you like. heeseung grabs your thigh with his free hand to keep you steady on the bed as he continues to eat you out. he curls his fingers up to your g-spot and you moan loudly.

you can feel your climax building up already. “h-heeseung— i’m c-close..” you warn him and he slips out his fingers from you, pulling his face away too. you whine at the sudden emptiness and he just smiles.

“ah ah! you have to wait, baby..” he teases.

that nickname. that nickname always gets you.

suddenly he removes his belt, quickly taking off his jeans and underwear, revealing his long, already hard cock. precum is already visible, and you bite your lip at the sight.

“like what you see?” he smiles, getting back on the bed and positioning his cock by your entrance. without warning, he slips inside you, not giving you any time to adjust, he pumps in and out of you slowly, making you let out a moan.

“h—heeseung— m-mmfg-” you whine, and you feel his cock twitch inside you hearing you say his name so desperately again. he picks up the pace, hitting your g-spot everytime. his hips, his.. his hips that make your head spin everytime you two do this. goodness, he’s good.

he grabs your thighs for support as he speeds up, causing you to yelp and bite your lip. “baby..” heeseung sighs between his pants. “dont hold back your sounds.. let me hear you..”

you didnt have to hear that twice. you stop biting your lip and as expected—you let out a whimper the moment you stop, causing heeseung to let out a low chuckle.

he speeds up again, this time going full speed without warning, and slapping sounds echoes in the room, including you and heeseung’s pants and moans.

“sh-shoot, baby.. you’re so tight,” he groans as he picks up the pace, throwing his head back. you cant keep your sounds in, and you moan his name like its the only word you know. your eyes roll back. “t-too much.. a-about to..”

“cum for me baby,” heeseung cuts you off. the knot in your stomach builds up before finally snapping, and you two cum together. he slips out of you, spreading your legs to see your cum and his flood out of you, and he licks his lips at the sight.

snap.

you moan his name, crazy you’re feeling this way over just touching yourself, but you wouldn’t’ve came if it weren’t for your imagination.

huh? what’s that noise?

“i’m home,” heeseung sighs as he sets his jacket down on the stand, silently walking to his bedroom to start getting ready for bed. after all—its late.

shutting the door, he decides to change into his pajamas. he takes off his pants, then his underwear—

oh wait?

“what’s y/n up to.. i hear noises in her room.”

he presses his ear against the wall to hear you more clearly.

oh shoot.

hearing you moan his name makes something in him snap, almost immediately knowing what you’re doing. “so you do that too, huh?”

he leans against the wall as he continues to eavesdrop on you.

“shoot..”

he sighs under his breath as he hears you, his hand lowering to his cock, rubbing it slowly. he groans silently, speeding up slightly.

“y/n..”

he smirks, picking up the pace on his cock, making him throw his head back in pleasure, and his head hits the wall.

“what’re you doing to me.. mmfgh—” he moans, opening his eyes and seeing precum leak out of him.

“i can hear you, you know?” he whispers, making sure you don’t hear him as he continues to pleasure himself.

“why don’t i walk in there and fulfill what your dirty little mind is thinking of, huh?”

note . first smut. time to go hide in a bush. ty for reading btw !! i appreciate it <33 this took longer than it shouldve so i appreciate ur attention !!

𝓽aglist . @llvrhee , @isa942572 , @siyusiee

haii if u like this plz reblog / like ♡ i’ll make a pt.2 at 100 notes !!

[fallstaticexit]

Is this the end of an era...

prev / next

Bonus: Orion......please don't pmo......

Teammate: We’re about to grab something to eat, you coming?

Zoey: I’ll catch up later. Feel kind of restless and the waves are too nice tonight.

Teammate: Don’t forget you gotta eat too, Zoe.

[the sound of music playing in the distance]

Selene Sings : It Will Rain - Bruno Mars

If you ever leave me baby, leave some morphine at my door. ‘Cause it would take a whole lot of medication to realize what we use to have We don’t have it anymore. There’s no religion that could save me. No matter how long my knees are on the floor. So keep in mind all the sacrifices I’m making To keep you by my side To keep you from walking out the door. ‘Cause there’ll be no sunlight, if I lose you baby. There’ll be no clear skies, if you I lose you baby. Just like the clouds, my eyes will do the same if you walk away Everyday it’ll rain, rain...um...

Zoey: Have you lost your fucking mind?

Selene: Zoe, wait. Let me say something-

Zoey: No, have you actually lost your mind? What the hell is wrong with you? We didn’t ‘break up’ because of some...simple minded petty bullshit- you cheated on me! We were getting married!

Selene: No, I know...and I will spend the rest of my life being sorry-

Zoey: Don’t apologize to me anymore! I know you’re sorry! You’ve been clear how fucking sorry you are!

Selene: I know you don’t trust me. I know you hate me, even. But I want to fix this. I’ve found a therapist. I’m going to go every week. I will do everything I can to earn your trust. I don’t care if I spend the rest of my life doing it. I love you. You, no one else. Listen, I don’t know why I did what I did, but she meant nothing to me. I swear it. I’ve loved you since we were kids, Zoe, please..

Zoey: That’s why this is killing me...you didn’t even love her. It was nothing to you and you still stooped so low and screwed her anyway without thinking about me once! I didn’t want to hate you, but seeing you right now is making it hard not too, especially after this stupid shit you pulled. Not only did you humiliate me, you shocked me. I never thought you’d hurt me like this...never.

Selene: Please, Zoe. Please let me try. Let me get through the therapy and let me work on me so I can be a good woman for you. I can’t lose you. I can’t. I love you so much. Please baby.

Zoey: Go to therapy. Get better. Be better. For you. Do it for you. Goodbye, Selene.

[littlerosetrove]

I think the show is going to start doing better by Eddie in upcoming episodes, and I desperately hope I’m right. Some critical thoughts incoming because I just want better for Eddie.

My focus of this post is about Eddie being in a romantic relationship, although there are absolutely so many potential storylines to delve deeper into with Eddie. Trust me, I know. 

I do get why Eddie was with Ana, I do. That man was still repressing so much trauma for starters, and (even now) Eddie was also feeling pressured by society and his upbringing to “give Chris another mom.” It was something Eddie felt like he should do. And hooboy does Eddie still need to work on issues surrounding things he often feels like he “should” do. We all know that Eddie stuck it out with Ana far longer than he should have (Ana is guilty of this two, cause it takes two to tango). An apt description for Eddie is that he’s “the architect of his own misery.” ← Idk who originally said this phrase, but I got it from @yramesoruniverse, and it’s true. 

Speaking of misery. No matter how the show tried to paint it as something cute and good, there is nothing actually good about Marisol and Eddie. Let me explain and bear with me. 

Let’s be real. The show during 6B treated Eddie’s loneliness and his subsequent desire to date as a joke. Maybe not 100%, but even 1% is too much. That montage of Eddie going hiking, playing golf (??), and hanging out at a fucking country club (?????) to find a date? That was played for laughs. 

Now at one point, Eddie had a genuinely great heart to heart with Bobby. I can’t recall their conversation exactly right now since I haven’t rewatched season 6 since it aired, but I know Bobby basically said Eddie should find someone who will sit with him during the hard times (please correct me if I’m wrong).  

But then the show tried to frame Eddie running into Marisol - someone he met on a call - as this spark, this magical moment. Let’s remember that in season 6 Eddie was wistfully reminiscing on his and Shannon’s beginning and called it magic. And so again, the show tried to say, “Hey look! Eddie bumping into Marisol (no last name) is meant to be. This is magic!” Then we jump into season 7 where we’ve gotten no development on Marisol still, and zero development on their relationship, unless you want to call Eddie admitting to using Marisol as a babysitter as some development. Hell, we don’t even know how Chris feels about her. With all of this in mind, to me this just looks like Eddie had grabbed onto the first person he could so he wouldn’t be lonely. If the show wanted us to care an iota about Marisol or their relationship in any capacity, they would have. But they haven’t. And that’s just heartbreaking for Eddie. All they’ve given Eddie is a surface level, nothing of a relationship. 

It’s clear Eddie and Marisol are going to break up in 7x7 at the latest, and… for what? 7x5 will definitely have to do some backfilling on where and why their relationship isn’t going to work (it doesn't appear Marisol will be in 7x6). Even still, what was the point of it all?? Before anyone says it, yes Eddie is allowed to date, even casually, but GD there’s been nothing to grasp onto, you know? No reason to feel even remotely excited or happy that Eddie’s dating, specifically not with Marisol (and the actress is a shitty person) who ffs doesn’t even have a last name. Just having two attractive people in the same room does nothing for me, sorry. 

To try and conclude this, this *gestures at everything I just said* is why I want better for Eddie and Ryan. I really really hope we’re going to get something of substance for Eddie as a character. Yes it’s been great to see Eddie so much happier in season 7 (thanks to therapy, though he needs more, and Buck and Tommy lbr), but, and to stick with the relationship aspect of it all, I want better for Eddie. Idk if Eddie will have or needs someone like Tommy for himself, or if Eddie is just going to work on himself before the next relationship he’s in will be Buck. We’ll have to wait and see, but yeah…. Eddie just. deserves better. 

(this post was inspired by a recent conversation I had with @elvensorceress)

[stilljuststardust]

I’m a 15 years old girl and my parents are very homophobic

Today my mom made me sat down because she thinks that I wanna turn into a boy and she told me for my old sis to also come downstairs to talk about it cause they found it weird mind you they’re very religious

After my big sis came downstairs my mom started talking about how I act like a boy when I’m a girl also that God made me a girl so why would I try to change into a girl and also said that if I keep acting like this she would take all my electronics

And send me somewhere else where I won’t see her and my siblings ever again

I’m crying so much because I did everything to change myself to become normal like others straight but nothing works and I found out that I want to be a boy I tried everything like manifesting being a man nothing it working and circumstances keeps getting worse and worse till the point it making me depressed like maybe I’m stuck this way maybe I will never be a man

I’m so scared cause she said if I don’t change I will not have access to phone I’m having a bad breakdown rn idk what to do anymore I’m so lost

But part of me still believes I’m a man no matter what

Hello, before I give you LOA advice let's talk

You ARE a man. You are a man. You are a man.

You are a man no matter what.

You don't have to do anything to be a man. It's who you are deep down in the pit of your soul. You already are a man.

Not just in an LOA sense, I'm saying this from a non-manifesting perspective: you are not a girl.

You will never be a girl, you never were. Do you understand that? Who you are as a person is a man.

I'm like you.

It's ok to be a trans. Being trans is normal. Half my friends are trans, I'm trans. You aren't alone, you aren't the only one. There is nothing wrong with you.

Firstly I would like to say, always always always prioritize your safety and well-being.

I know it's easier said than done but the closet exists for a reason. It keeps us safe. Do not come out if it would put you in danger. You do not have to be out to be valid.

I hate that my advice is to fawn and pretend to be something you're not, but its safest sometimes.

It feels so far away now, but there will be a time when you are free to be who you are. You will find people who support you. You will find people who are like you. When I was in your place 18 felt so far away and unreachable, but it's not. Freedom will come. Please hold on.

Link to The Trevor project. (Councilors and hotline for queer people who are struggling mentally)

Loa

At the end there will be a handful of LOA posts I think you should read/you might be interested in + subliminals for you. The most important one in my opinion being the one I list first.

The law gets over complicated alot. At the end of the day it boils down to this.

An assumption, though false, if persisted in will harden into fact.

An assumption being something you accept as the truth without needing evidence and persistence meaning you assume regardless of what the 3D shows you.

Essentially, you decide you have your desire and you are stubborn in that decision.

It's ok to feel intense emotions, it's ok to be scared and hurt and frustrated, you just have to assume that no matter what the physical world shows you you are undeniably biologically male.

There is no more advice to give, there is only the law. Assume, affirm, persist.

The posts

How I manifested my dream life with extremely hard circumstances (blushydior)

If it's too long a read (seriously I think you should read the whole thing either way) here's the parts I thought would benefit you the most

What you need to know about loa

How to ignore the 3D

Nothing is true until you decide it is

It's ok to feel like shit

Loa checklist

Subliminals and affirmation tapes

Revise past negative events

Desired body

Mind over matter

It's done

Your desire is a fact

I keep getting results

If you need motivation

@loasuccessarchive

[edenfenixblogs]

outside of the general principles of credibility and fact-checking (or including those if you want) and looking for commitment to peace and shared prosperity like you mentioned in your pinned, do you have any other advice on gauging the reliability of sources regarding israel/palestine? or any particular sources you recommend as reliable or warn against as unreliable? there's so much misinfo and disinfo out there that i often end up getting overwhelmed and sharing nothing specific - and i know that's not exactly helpful, i'm just not sure where to start.

This is SUCH a good and important question!!! Thank you so much for asking it. I’ve been waiting until after work today to answer, so I can give it the attention it deserves.

This is an incredibly complex topic. It is completely ok to tackle only one item of this at a time. It is ok to spend more time listening than speaking. It is ok to only do basic fact checking until these things become second nature. It seems like a lot. But it actually becomes quite simple when you realize that, as a member of a non-affected group, your only job is to steer the conversation toward truth and peace.

That means most of what you are doing is rejecting sources and individuals engaging in bad faith discourse by simply not engaging with them. Your next most common task will be to publicly fact check bad faith discourse or incorrect information that has spread too far.

It is tempting to become outraged when you become familiar with bad faith discourse and data and see it spread widely. However, remember that this is incredibly complex and even the most experienced people get things wrong on this subject all the time. If you notice an error in what appears to be someone trying to bring attention to a cause they care deeply about, approach with kindness first. Always.

Try a reblog or a personal message with a link to the problematic post and say something like,

Hey. I care a lot about [issue] too. And I am trying really hard to make sure everything being spread right now is verifiable and accurate so nobody gets upset about things that aren’t true. Did you know that [thing you said+link to the post where you said it] was actually proven false by [reliable source+link to that source]? I’m really glad that didn’t happen. Of course, terrible things are still happening [to Palestinians/Israelis/Jews/Muslims/Arabs] on/in [college campuses/diaspora/Palestine/Israel/etc] there all the time. But at least nobody has to suffer through [incorrect info]. By the way, I’ve found a lovely organization run by actual Palestinians/Israelis/Arabs/Muslims/Jews working together to find peace for all. Check it out, I think it has promise! [link to reliable cause/organization]

Here is a wonderful site for MENA-based organizations geared toward fostering a shared peaceful future in a variety of ways.

Give the poster a chance to self correct. You will be wrong in the future. Model the way you would like to be informed of an error.

I briefly touched on the basics of identifying any source as reliable here. I won’t reiterate because this may be a long post and I wanna save space. But it contains the basics of what I learned in college.

One of the most important things to keep in mind is that no source is objective. No source is without bias. And there is no way to make any source objective or without bias.

News is written by people. And all people have viewpoints. Giving all voices in a conflict equal importance is not inherently unbiased, because that risks giving support to more harmful ideas and equating harmful ideas, ideologies, and organizations with reasonable ones. Likewise, asserting that one viewpoint is correct and being unwavering in this belief no matter what is obviously no way to cultivate a balanced and well informed viewpoint.

Your job is to use critical thinking skills to examine the level of bias in a piece of media as well as how responsibly the source handles that bias. Your job is also to do your best to be aware of bias as well as what bias is relevant to the subject matter being reported. A source that is left leaning, but never shares fake information and is always verifiable is preferable to a source that is moderate but consistently shares half truths or faulty information.

Sometimes, information from a less than ideal source can be shared, but if you are sharing that source, you must explicitly state that source’s flaws and why you chose to share that information anyway. And if you are unable to find a better source, you should state that you are sharing information that may be incomplete or inaccurate and you are happy to update the post you are sharing if and when more information or confirmation from a more reliable source emerges. There are very limited situations where this is appropriate. Usually I would suggest not sharing information from such sources at all unless it can be backed up by better information.

One example of such a case is information about antisemitic hate crimes from the ADL. The ADL has a very problematic history and one should be aware of it when they share statistical data from the organization. However, that doesn’t make their information inherently unusable. It makes their information inherently suspect, though. In order for anything shared from the ADL to be worth sharing, you should be able to evaluate the data collection method and the sources of the data. And if there is any information in the data you are sharing that is not appropriate, you should explicitly draw attention to it, not try to hide it.

Case Study: Global Antisemitic Incidents in the Wake of Hamas’ War on Israel

This list contains very useful data on incidents of antisemitic violence against Jews in diaspora since 10/7/2023. I trust this data because: it links to each individual news source it references, often with pictures of the attacker/attack/incident and time stamps. It’s data is open to questioning and its sources are available to check individually. This is in line with the ADL’s mission statement of tracking antisemitism. Documenting antisemitism is not an inherently biased practice nor do I have any reason to believe that they lie about the antisemitic incidents they document. As that is not one of the things that critics accuse the ADL of, I do not see a reason to question its record on antisemitic incident reporting. I have never heard a critic make a substantiated claim against their formally collected data as falsified. I am willing to be proven wrong on this, but I will interrogate a source claiming this as thoroughly as I interrogate the ADL as a source itself. I am skeptical of this source because: the title of the article uses extremely biased language that makes the war seem one sided. The advantage of this source is: it is one of the few sources existing that collects data on antisemitic violence and hate incidents of Jews in diaspora. A sign of good faith from the organization: they dedicate a page to addressing criticisms of their organization, which means they feel confident that criticisms of them will stand up to scrutiny. It is not sufficient to use this page to absolve them of any of the listed criticisms, but it should help you find articles that critique the ADL as well as relevant information that supports their defense. Thus, you must come to your own conclusion on whether or not that information is trustworthy on the matter you are commenting on. A sign of possible bad faith from the organization: their page devoted to confronting myths and inaccuracies about their organization’s history does not address accusations about supporting South African Apartheid or failing to call the Armenian Genocide a genocide. An acknowledgment of my own limitations: I am not an expert in South African Apartheid in any way nor am I an expert on the Armenia genocide. Any other relevant information: Any reputable news sources verify information before reporting. If a news source that is verifiably responsible in its reporting cites information from the ADL, I will assume they have made adequate inquiries to verify that information as accurate enough to report. For example, if AP reported information and cited the ADL statistics, I would assume that the ADL made sure the data fit its high standard for reportage.

Conclusion: I find the ADL to be a trustworthy enough source of data about antisemitic attacks and incidents on Jews in diaspora, but only in cases where their sources and/or methodology are made public and/or another more regulated or otherwise more reliable source of statistical information partners with them. Because I lack expertise on South African Apartheid on the Armenian Genocide, I will not share information from the ADL about Palestinian apartheid, segregation, oppression, or genocide (until or unless I become more well-versed in these topics or am able to devote substantial energy into fact checking each claim in what I share. If I ever choose to do this, I will share every source I used to verify the information so that others may check my work and inform me if I’m wrong. At this time, I do not foresee a situation where I would refer to the ADL for matters about Palestinian concerns). The ADL in general and the linked source in particular seems to be an overall worthwhile source to cite on matters of antisemitism. The ADL does not meet my standards of a reliable source on Palestinian suffering. Check each link/source on an ADL source you want to share and form an informed conclusion on its reliability before sharing.

Also, be aware that primary sources with biased information are extremely valuable but never objective on their own. A tweet from the IDF or a statement from a released Palestinian prisoner may both be true! But sharing them as if they are definitely true without fact checking the information through the most trustworthy sources available is irresponsible. Do not share any social media information as fact. You are free to share social media information and publicly explore its implications in a responsible manner, but it is not responsible to discuss them as facts.

Case study: When something in Gaza or Israel is bombed, be sure that you know who the key players and commentators are.

When the IDF releases a statement blaming Hamas for bombing their own citizens, know that the IDF has a vested interest in not being perceived as an aggressor. When the Ministry of Health in Gaza accuses the Israeli military of being responsible for the attack, be aware that the Ministry of Health in Gaza is run by Hamas and is not a third party neutral source. Do not post anything about an event like this until the information is fully vetted by a neutral third party source (or as neutral as you are likely to find on such a hot button issue).

The best way you can help during an emerging story is to urge others to wait for full details, call out people irresponsibly casting blame before the facts are in (especially politicians), and repeatedly verify every source of information as they are named so that you know if they are trustworthy. Do not trust politicians who espouse inflammatory and prematurely accusatory information and do not make a public retraction and apology when they are found to be wrong.

That said, it is always appropriate to express sorrow for loss of life. You do not need to accuse a killer in order to do this.

There are also sites geared toward helping you identify the source itself fairly. Note: sites like these will help you evaluate the publication or news entity (eg New York Times, Al Jazeera, Haaretz, etc.). They won’t help you evaluate an individual journalist or article.

Some sites to help you verify credibility:

Media Bias Fact Check: Allows you to verify sources based on the news source’s political bias in terms of a left-right spectrum as well as by their reliability on matters of science, their use of questionable sources, and use of satire. Also, you can check how reliably factual the source’s reporting is. You can also sort by country, media type, general credibility, and how well trafficked the source is. They also publicly offer insight into their methodology of coming to these conclusions.

The Associated Press (AP) fact checks individual claims. Other news organizations fact checking claims include Reuters, The Washington Post and AFP. While AP is a gold standard and generally reliable, be aware that news organizations are also subject to bias. The advantage is that news organizations have investigative reporters on staff to investigate claims. The disadvantage is the bias inherent to the publication itself.

Other third party cites checking facts in news reports and in politics include:

FactCheck.org

Politifact

Snopes

Lakehead University offers an entire site devoted to developing media literacy as well as many ways to search fact checking sites. So does Kansas State University, and UMass Amherst. Many universities offer sites like this. I urge you to look into them.

Once you find a news or data source you trust, do a quick google search on the journalist’s name and a relevant phrase to the aspect of the conflict being reported on. For example The Newspaper Tribune Times Chronicle may be trustworthy. Veteran reporter, Ima Journalist may have written an article about Israel Bombing Gaza. So, before sharing it, just Google: “Ima journalist” + Israel Palestine Jews antisemitism Islamophobia. Make sure you don’t see something like “Ima Journalist photographed screaming ‘Hitler was actually a super good guy!’ anywhere in her history. When satisfied, feel free to share the story.

Other points to keep in mind:

Be aware of crappy tactics on both sides of the i/p conflict.

The IDF is often accused of excessive violence and planting evidence on Palestinians. This often leads to Palestinians being unfairly accused of terrorist intent and criminal violence.

Hamas uses civilians as human shields — both by using individual humans as shields and also launching bombs from civilian buildings (like hospitals, preschools, and libraries), building militaristic infrastructure in or beneath those same civilian buildings, and instigating conflict with IDF soldiers positioned near residential and civilian locations. This allows Hamas to escape criticism by framing the IDF as mindlessly bloodthirsty and eager to kill Palestinian civilians.

And finally, make sure accusations and talking points never conform to antisemitic conspiracy theories.

The universal aspects of antisemitic conspiracy theories (detailed more fully in the source linked above and also in another post I made) are:

Accusing Jews of replacing another group or population

Accusing Jews of pretending to be something they are not

Accusing Jews of dominating or attempting to dominate a prominent or essential aspect of a society or the world at large.

Accusing Jewish people of genocide and bloodlust in pursuit of personal gain

Accusing Jews of undue privilege or if appropriating something belonging to others.

Dehumanizing Jews by grouping them under a collective name or identity.

I hope this helps! Feel free to share it!

[softdoctorreid]

love made | reid x reader

summary: when cat adams shakes spencer's confidence, you help reassure him - and sometimes actions speak louder than words.

• nsfw/18+, smut, post-prison reid, fem!reader, oral sex (fem receiving), piv sex, fingering, body image issues

+++     +++     +++

Cat Adams stood in the living room of the apartment you shared with Spencer, grinning like the devil who just won the deal. “Does she even know the real you?” she asked. “Not the man you pretend to be, but the man with mommy issues a drug problem who throws women up against a wall and chokes them. You could do so much better,” Cat sighed. 

“You mean with you?” he scoffed.

“I’m not talking to you, I’m talking to her,” Cat said, nodding at you. You tried not to glare at her from where you sat on the couch. It was all a game to her, you knew that. Spencer had told you all about Cat, and with Emily’s briefing you had everything you needed to keep an upper hand in the conversation. And you’d managed that - the team was en route to the location of the hostages she’d taken thanks to the information you pulled from her. But she couldn’t give up without digging her claws in.

“I mean look at you,” Cat said, returning her attention to Spencer. “You’re nothing like you were when I met you. I changed you, Spencie. The messy hair, the stubble, the anger you try so hard to hide. But just like those extra pounds you’ve put on, you just can’t manage to cover it up, can you? Because I’ve changed you. I made you.”

Cat let her eyes wander over him. “Then again, I wish I could’ve been more hands-on. You were more cute before. So innocent. Now you’ve let yourself go.”

Shame burned in his cheeks. It was the thing he tried not to think about, how he couldn’t button some of his old cardigans, or how he had to wear his pants lower on his hips now that he couldn’t quite tuck his tummy into them like he could before. He felt wider, broader, than he was before and he was always afraid of taking up too much space. Cat found his weakness and pounced on it, just as you knew she would.

“No matter how hard you try to deny it, you just can’t get away from me. I did this. So sure, maybe you saved the day,” she said, handing her phone over to him in surrender. “But even after I die, you’ll never stop thinking about me. I made sure of that.”

With the phone in hand you opened the door to let Luke and Emily in, standing there seething as Luke arrested Cat and the SWAT team cleared the apartment. Garcia and Emily stayed behind with you to debrief before mercifully leaving the two of you to decompress from the long day you’d lived.

You found Spencer sitting on the bed, looking utterly miserable. Honey-colored eyes cast downward, mouth pressed into a tight line, arms crossed securely over his chest to keep his feelings bottled in. Though the case had ended with no lives lost and Cat behind bars, you knew that the work still took a lot out of him. It wasn’t easy either for him to stare down the woman who had caused him so much trauma in pain - she’d taken months of his life from him, his sense of safety, and everything she could.

And all that taking took a toll.

You say down gingerly next to him, laying your head on his shoulder. “Hey. It’s been a day, huh?” you said. 

His lip trembled. “She’s right, you know.”

“Huh?” You frowned. Not a word Cat had said made any sense, and it was even more confusing to hear Spencer agree with her.

“Cat was right. You deserve better. I mean, I’m a mess. I’ve let myself go, and I’m selfish, and - and wrong and you should be with someone better.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is,” he muttered. “Maybe if I were the old me, I could be good enough for you, but she was right. She changed me. She made me worse. And you deserve the best.”

Spencer may have been the profiler in the relationship, but sometimes it was hard for him to see past his own self-doubt. Those old insecurities blocking the truth and convincing him that the worst of him was all there could ever be, all anyone could ever see.

“You listen to me,” you said, tilting his chin so he had to look at you. “I want you. Because you are the very best for me. You’re a good man. You’re gentle and brilliant and so kind. You make me want to be a better person. And if I had to choose all over again, I’d choose you every time. Every version of you. Because I love you, and nothing is ever going to change that. Not even Cat Adams.”

His lip stopped quivering, but there was still a hesitance on his face. You could’ve talked to him all night, but you knew that sometimes actions spoke louder than paragraphs ever could. You placed a hand on his arm, giving it a soft squeeze of affirmation.

“Besides, I think she’s overestimating the effect she had on you. I mean, I deserve credit,” you said. You caressed his body, hands rubbing over his tummy and hips, smiling. “I put some of those new inches here with all those homemade meals. Making sure you actually eat. And all those weekends where I seduced you into cuddling up in bed with me instead of, I don’t know, working out? Not to mention encouraging those tight pants that show everything off because they just make your ass look so goddamn good.”

At that you grabbed his ass, smile turning into a smirk. “I stole a little bit of that innocence. And if those pants get a little extra tight, well, I expect I’m to blame for that, too.” Sure enough, as you pressed your palm to the front of his trousers you could feel his hard-on aching through the fabric. 

“Maybe she left a mark three years ago. But I’ve been the one making you mine ever since. I’m the one who gives you hickies. Indulges your sweet tooth. And you started keeping your hair long ever since I pulled it when we were making out.” On cue, you tangled your fingers in his curls and tugged gently, pulling his face to meet you. “And it’s so hot, babe. You let yourself change for me. And you’ve changed me, too.”

“Tell me,” he begged.

“You made me brave. You made me more confident with how good you love me. You taught me more than I ever thought I could learn. And you’ve ruined me, you know. I could never even dream of being with anyone else, not after how you love me. Not after how good you fuck me. Nobody else could ever come close.”

His face was flushed for an entirely different reason now as you squeezed at his waist, fingers catching in his waistband. “You’re too hard on yourself, Spencer. But I know you better than that. I know you better than she does.”

He grabbed your face to pull you into a desperate kiss, crashing his lips against yours with a fierceness that made you shiver. His tongue in your mouth, his hips pressed against you, searching for contact. When he strayed down to suck at the pulse point of your neck, your hands found their way to his belt, blindly flicking open the buckle. 

“You haven’t changed because of her,” you said. “You’ve changed because of love. Haven’t you?”

“Yes,” he murmured between kisses. “Yes. Let me prove it.” To you and to himself, you figured. He needed this reassurance. Need was certainly the word as he reached for your shirt, pulling it up over your head before helping you out of your pants and pushing you back onto the bed. 

You lay before him in just your lace bra and panties and he just stared at you for a heartbeat before hurriedly ridding himself of his own trousers and joining you on the mattress. Spencer planted greedy kisses down your neck and jaw while his hands massaged your breasts, kneading the sensitive skin with the perfect amount of pressure. You lost yourself in the pleasure as he unhooked your bra and when his tongue circled your nipple you just couldn’t help the moan that escaped your mouth.

“God,” you sighed. “You’re so good at this.”

“You taught me,” he said, voice muffled by your skin. He slipped his hand past your panties, cupping your bare ass. “You made me this way.”

“You changed for me. You did that all on your own.”

“Because I love you,” he said, looking up at you, chin resting on your belly. “Because I love you.”

You reached for him, running your fingers through his messy hair, those perfectly disarrayed curls you adored. Pet his head softly, caressed his cheek. Spencer pushed his face into your palm, keening like a cat to your touch. 

“Then ruin me, lover,” you pleaded.

Those honey-colored eyes flashed dark. “You might regret that.”

“With you? Never.”

He slid down the bed, hooking a finger in the band of your panties and sliding them down your legs. You spread easily for him when he positioned himself between your thighs, flattening you with his fingers and stroking over your wet heat. With one thumb on your clit, he pushed one long finger into you, testing your boundaries before curling against you in one smooth motion, hitting a spot that made your breath hitch. Once more, twice more, before he pulled back out and, without breaking eye contact, raised that finger to his lips, his tongue swiping over the sheen of your arousal left on his skin. His breath as shaky as your own.

“Only you do that to me,” you whispered. “Only you get me so wet.”

He said nothing, just grabbed your hip to pull you closer as his tongue found your core, so warm against every inch of you, heat pooling in the pit of your stomach as he devoured you like he’d been starved. The slight tickle of his stubble against your skin. One hand pawing at your breast, one squeezing your thigh as he sucked at your clit, licked at your heat, pausing only to gasp for air and press kisses against your hip. 

It was overwhelming the way he wanted all of you, needed all of you. He was always like this, so focused on you, so intent on getting you off, the most generous of lovers. Cat Adams knew nothing of the man bringing you to the edge with every swipe of his tongue.

“Fuck, Spence,” you whined.

“My name,” he panted. “Use my name.” He’d had enough of nicknames that night you figured, and you were happy to oblige.

“Spencer. Spencer, my god, I-I’m so close.” He’d said nothing about terms of endearment though. “Please, lover. So… so close.”

He hummed against you in acknowledgment and you let your head fall back against the pillows as he did what he loved best. Flicking in and out of you, circling your clit with his tongue, using his fingers and his mouth to bring you further and further until the only things you knew were the warmth of him and the sound of his name, and how utterly heavenly that rush of obscene pleasure felt as it wracked through your body, engulfing you from top to toe.

Spencer crawled back up to kiss you as you came down, both of you so breathless as his lips brushed yours, the taste of you lingering on his mouth. As he hovered over you, you could feel the hard brush of his cock through his boxers, the ache he was ignoring in favor of your needs.

“I love you,” he said.

“I know. You love me so good, Spencer. And I love you so much.” You grabbed his hand in yours, thumb swiping over the back of his hand. “Hey, you don’t have to deny yourself, you know. Not because of her. That’s what she wants. You’re not selfish. You’re not a mess. You’re you. And you’re mine. Mine,” you repeated, biting gently at his collarbone. 

You kissed the same spot, sucking a few times just hard enough to leave a faint mark, the purplish beginnings of a bruise. Just so he’d remember that the things that hurt weren’t the only things capable of changing him. Love left marks too, marks that didn’t have to be scars. The hickies that colored his body before fading. The softness of his belly and thighs that grew within the safety of a happy relationship and regular meal schedule. The flush on his cheeks when you whispered sweet nothings and the blood that rushed to his dick at the sight of you on your knees for him. 

Love changed him. You changed each other.

“You’re mine. So make me yours, lover mine.”

That was all the permission he needed to strip off his hastily-undone shirt and the boxers that were already growing wet from the pre-cum leaking from his straining cock. You handed him a condom and he could hardly put it on fast enough, so frantic to get into you. He lined himself up with you once more, pushing in with a groan that had his head tipping back, eyes fluttering closed as you clenched around him. 

Spencer found a steady pace, thrusting into you with gasp and urgency, and you took him in full each time, letting him fill you up in the most delicious way. His tummy slapped lightly against your waist with each stroke, and you tangled your fingers in his hair to tug him to you and steal a frantic kiss, your tongue in his mouth moved in tandem with the rhythm of your bodies as he fucked you so good.

You could feel the need vibrating in him, the way this wasn’t just fucking, but making peace with himself, proving to himself that this was what changed him, this was what made him. His newfound confidence built by your encouragement, his fierceness a way to protect you, his softness forged by the vulnerability he could show you. It was tender and necessary and desperate and something inside you just felt complete when he finally came with a shuddering cry and collapsed in your arms.

“Love made you this way,” you sighed, wrapping him in a hug. “Not Cat. Not prison. Love.” Everything about him, from his soft voice to his contagious smile to his body. All made for moments like this.

“Love,” he repeated, the word breaking just a bit. “I can live with that. Because if I’m made this way because of love, then everything I am will come back to you.”

You smiled into a sweet, sleepy kiss, letting his embrace wash away everything else from the day. All the heartache, all the anger. Leaving nothing but the love you made together.

+++

tell me what you think here!

[jpmarvel90]

Love is for Children

Masterlist Nat Masterlist

Relationship: Natasha x Reader

Summary: The Red Room motto of "Love is for Children" could destroy any hopes of Natasha getting the happiness she craves and risks hurting the one person she can't live without.

Word Count: 5031

Y/N’s POV:

I just stood there in shock, silent tears falling down my face. All I could do was watch as my girlfriend turn her back and walked away from me. She no longer loved me. I couldn’t believe it. We had been together for nearly a year; everything was perfect until it wasn’t.

Two weeks ago, Natasha started to become distant to me. We hung out less, we didn’t have any dates and she would come up with excuses to not see me or stay the night.�� I finally had enough, and I pulled her into my room ready to confront her. That was the moment my heart was broken into a million pieces, as she stood there and told me that she didn’t love me anymore.

She had no emotion in her eyes as she told me. No sadness, no guilt. When I asked her for how long she mumbled out an “a while”. I considered holding her telling her that it wasn’t true that I could fix it. But I could tell no matter what I did, nothing would change. So, I let her leave, losing the only person I have ever truly loved.

I found it hard to do anything. Over the next couple of days, I shut myself away in my room. Only Wanda, my best friend, would visit to try and encourage me to eat. The others were Natasha’s friends first and I knew they would avoid me. After a week I started training again. It was the only thing I had motivation to do. I would get up early so I could avoid everyone, but mainly Natasha, then work out, grab breakfast and shut myself away again.

One day I had slept through my alarm. I had struggled to sleep, thoughts of everything I did wrong going through my head. I grabbed my training gear and headed to the gym, needing to vent any frustration I had. Lucky no one was in the gym, so I got to work on wrapping my hands. I got in my stance and start hitting combination shots onto the punch bag.

After a while, I was getting intrusive thoughts that I couldn’t shake. Each one causing my anger to grow and my punches to get harder.

“No one will ever love you” PUNCH

“You’re worthless” PUNCH

“Even your friends hate you” PUNCH

“You’re pathetic” PUNCH

“You have no one” PUNCH

This went on, I had faded into trance just hitting the bag repeatedly. I hadn’t even notice that some of the team had come in. I start to hear my name being called, but it wasn’t until I felt a hand on my shoulder I came back to reality. “Y/N stop you’re hurting yourself.” I dropped my fists and turned around to see Steve stood there with a sympathetic look on his face. I dropped my gaze down seeing the blood that had come through the wraps on my hands.

What I didn’t know at this time, was that Steve was shocked at my appearance. Other than Wanda, none of the team had seen me in 2 weeks. I had lost a lot of weight. I no longer had colour in my face, and I had permanent bags under my eyes. “Let me help with those” He said indicating to my fists. I shook my head and turned to walk away, which is when I noticed the rest of the team stood staring at me, including Natasha. I couldn’t bare to look at any of them and I could feel my anxiety rising as I went to rush out of the room. Before I could leave, I felt a hand grab my arm. I turned to face the one person I didn’t want to have anything to do with. “Y/N, are you ok? Please let someone help clean those up for you.” Natasha said with pity in her eyes.

“Am I ok? Are you seriously asking me that right now? Of course I’m not fucking ok Natasha. Just fuck off with your fake concern and leave me alone.” I snatch my arm back and storm out of the training room. My anger was growing, and I knew I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t stay here.

As I get back to my room I jump in the shower and then tend to my hands. I clean them up and bandage them. When I’m done, I grab a bag and throw in my stuff. It’s a sad showing of my life that I could fit everything I own in one duffle bag. Before I leave, I write a note to Wanda.

Wands,

I know that you’ll hate me for saying goodbye like this to you. But I know if I did this face to face you’d manage to convince me to stay. But that is not what is best for me right now. If I stay, I don’t think I’ll survive this pain I’m feeling. The team are better off without me here. Just know that I love you and have always considered you a sister. I can’t thank you enough for everything you have done for me.

Love Y/N

I folded the note and left it on my bedside table. I waited until it was later at night, when I knew everyone would be asleep or in their room, before I headed out of the compound and made my way to Shield HQ.

I waited around knowing that Fury would be in early that morning. Once he arrived, he saw me sat on the couch in the waiting room and called me in before he even got settled. “I have a feeling I know what this is about Y/L/N but what can I do for you?” Fury asked taking a seat behind his desk.

I took a deep breath before starting to talk. “Sir, I’ve been very grateful for the opportunities you’ve given me here at Shield and then with the Avengers. But I don’t think I can be of any use for the team anymore. Therefore, I’d like you to accept my resignation.” I stepped forward and placed my Shield badge and gun on his desk.

He didn’t say a word, he just looked between me and my badge, his hand interlinked on this desk. “You are one of my best Agents Y/L/N, nearly better than Romanoff. There will never be a time that you aren’t of use to us. I don’t accept your resignation.” He said bluntly before turning to his desk.

“But Sir, I can’t do this anymore and if my mind’s not in it then I’m just a danger to everyone.” I argued not wanting to let him dictate this decision. I notice he reached into his draw and pulled out a file, tossing it in my direction. “I have a proposal for you, hear my out and if you still want to resign, I’ll let you leave now.” He bargained. I nodded and took the seat in front of his desk.

“I have a mission, it could be dangerous, but I think it might help in your current ‘situation’.” He paused whilst indicating me to take the file which I took and started to read. “Her name is Sarah. We believe she is a Hydra sleeper agent. She has powers but we haven’t been able to determine what they are.” I nod along reading notes such as her home address here in New York.

“She works in a coffee shop downtown. I need someone to work there and find out as much information as possible. We’ll provide an apartment and get you the job. All you have to do is make coffee and befriend her.” I finish reading the file and look up at him.

“It seems like a pretty easy mission. Surely you don’t need to send me, one of the other agents will be more than capable of doing it.” I respond, waiting for the catch which is sure to come. “If it was a simple information gathering exercise I would, but we think the best way to flush her out will be to expose you as an agent. Cause her to have to go on the offensive.” Fury responds. And there it is, a pretty big catch.

“So, let me get this straight, I work at this café, be nice and make friends, then at a time you say, you’ll leak info on me that will leave me exposed and potentially killed by a woman whose power’s we know nothing about?” I ask, trying to clarify the absurdity of it all. He simple nodded.

“I’m in.” I said without a second thought. I saw a flash of surprise on Fury’s face before it quickly disappeared. “As far as anyone else will be aware, you have resigned from you post with Shield. Only Agent Hill and myself will be aware of you mission. But know that we will do everything to protect you.” Acknowledging what he’s said, I stand up and shake his hand.

He hands me a larger file with all the information I need, including my fake IDs and apartment keys. I walk out of his office to be met by Agent Hill. “Hey Y/N before you leave. I’m glad you’re staying. Though I can’t say I won’t miss your face whilst you’re on this mission.” She chuckles walking me to the elevator. We’re around other agents now and we both put on our acting skills.

“Well Agent Y/N, it’s been an honour working with you. I wish you luck in your future.” She says leaning forward to pull me into a hug. “Stay safe, I promise we’ve got your back.” She whispers in my ear before I enter the lift leaving for the mission.

Wanda’s POV:

I was making my way down to the kitchen for breakfast having returned late last night from a short mission. I was planning on making Y/N and I breakfast for when she had completed her morning training session. I was so worried about her, she was barely eating but training hard in the mornings. She had such a bright a bubbly personality but since her break up with Nat, she had lost her spark.

When I entered the kitchen, the team were already up. “Morning” I say, walking over to the fridge to get out the ingredients I needed. “Hey Wanda, how was your mission?” Nat asked. I furrowed my eyebrows slightly. I was mad at her, she had broken my best friends heart yet she was acting like nothing happened. “Yeah it was fine.” I responded shortly not turning to engage any further.

Before I could start cooking Steve approached me. “Hey, how’s Y/N this morning?” He asked. This was new, no one on the team had asked about her for the last 2 weeks, this was only adding to the anger I felt. “Why, you suddenly care about her?” I respond harshly, I notice the shock in is face straight away. “I-uh, well. I’ve always cared about her. We uh, we all have” He replied stuttering through his words.

“You guys have a funny way of showing it. No one has made an effort with her since Natasha ended it with her. We all knew how much she loved her. She was heartbroken and she needed us.” I almost yelled at him. Before he could respond JARVIS interrupted us. “Director Fury has requested the team’s presence in the meeting room immediately.”

We all made our way into the meeting room taking our seats ready to hear our latest mission. As Fury started to talk, I looked around and noticed that Y/N wasn’t there. “Sorry to interrupt Sir but are we not waiting for Y/N?” I asked slightly concerned.

“No, we are not. I’m here to tell you that two days ago Agent Y/L/N handed in her resignation for Shield…. which I accepted.” There was a silence in the room. I looked over and saw that Nat was trying to hold back tears. “How the hell did you just let her resign Fury, she’s part of this team, we need her.” Tony spat, standing from his seat.

“Clearly she felt otherwise. I hate to lose one of my best agents, but I can’t force someone to stay who was so clearly unhappy. It’s a shame as I’m sure you were all supportive of her over the last few weeks whilst she has been struggling.” There was a sense of a scolding in his last sentence, and I notice the team visibly shrink into their seats.

As soon as the meeting is done, I run out and head straight to Y/N’s room. I open the door and see it now empty. Sitting on her bed, I feel a wave of emotion, I’m so sad that she’s gone, I’m angry that this could have been prevent, but most of all I just miss my best friend. When I stand up to leave, I notice something on her bedside table. It’s a note with my name on it and photo of the two of us.

Sitting down to read it, I no longer can keep my tears in. Gripping the photo tight I sob knowing that I’ll never see her again. She would have left a contact if I she wanted to see me again. I felt the bed dip beside me and a hand reach around my shoulder. I let myself give in for a brief moment before I notice it was Natasha. My sadness suddenly turned to anger.

“What do you want?” I asked harshly. “I just want you to know I’m here for you.” I look up and a rage fills me. “Me, you’re here for me? You are the reason Y/N is gone. She was like family to me, and I’ll never see her again. You never had an ounce of sympathy for her, yet you’ll come here and comfort me. No thank you!” I yell shooting up from the bed wanting to get away from her.

“Wanda please wait.” Natasha is persistent and grabs a hold of my arm. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want her to leave.” She says quietly, not matching my tone. “You’re kidding me right. What did you think would happen? That she would just get over you and go back to being herself. She loved you Natasha, she gave you everything and yet you strung her along breaking her heart. For what? Was it just some sick game to you? Did you get some kick out of playing with her heart like that?” I yelled again. I can feel my eyes start to turn red with anger. 

“Hey, Wanda it was not like that. I didn’t break up with her because I was done playing with a toy!” Nat responds harshly getting closer as her own anger grew. “Then why did you leave her?” I challenge. “BECAUSE I LOVE HER!”. I stood there in silence, completely shocked. “I’m sorry, you left her because you love her? That’s crazy, even for you Nat.” I sarcastically chuckle. I’m completely confused.

“I was taught that love is for children. I thought that feeling that emotion made me weak. So, I started to distance myself from her, not sure what to do before deciding it was best for both of us if I ended things. I hated seeing the pain it caused her. I thought that with time she would see it was for the best.” She hung her head in shame.

“Look Nat, I know that you were conditioned to believe things when you were in the Red Room. But this, this is one of the biggest bits of bullshit I’ve heard. You have seen how love is not a weakness. Am I weak for loving Vision? Was Steve for loving Peggy?” I asked. She shook her head still unable look at me.

“Did leaving her make you stronger?” I probed further trying to get her to understand that her belief was wrong. Again, she shook her head. “It made me feel lost.” She whispered and I noticed tears start to fall from her eyes. I had never seen Nat cry before. I pulled her to me in a hug and rubbed my hands up and down her back.

“Hey Nat, I’m sorry for yelling. I was angry. I just really miss her.” I say softly. “No, I deserved it. You’re right, it’s my fault she’s gone. Now there is nothing that I can do to bring her back and make things right.” I just held Nat close letting her cry. She was already beating herself up enough, she didn’t need me to add to that. But she was right. It was too late. We had lost Y/N for good.

Nat’s POV:

It’s been 4 months since Y/N has left. The compound feels empty without her. I was such an idiot forever letting her go. In truth I was just scared, scared of getting hurt so I hid behind my stupid beliefs from the Red Room.

I will never forget the look on her face when I told her I didn’t love her anymore or the day in the gym where she had punched herself into a frenzy unable to stop. Her knuckles bloodied and bruised. The way she tore her arm away from me believing I wasn’t concerned for her.

These last months have been hard, the whole team is feeling her loss. She was such a happy person to be around. She would enter a room and everyone would instantly cheer up. She was like out own personal ray of sunshine. Some how Wanda has forgiven me. Her and Y/N were like sisters to each other. I hate that my actions have also caused pain to Wanda.

I have tried to find her. But she’s gone off the grid. The only evidence I have of her is the day after she handed in her resignation. Since then, nothing. No credit card uses, no matches on the CCTV facial recognition. She’s just vanished and that’s what scared me the most. She was that hurt she never wanted to be found.

It was a quiet day in the compound, and I was just about to make my way to training. As I do every day, I pass what was Y/N’s room and stop for a moment before head out to the gym. Whilst grabbing a water from the kitchen JARVIS calls us in for a meeting with Fury.

“Anyone know what this is about?” I ask, taking my seat next to Wanda. “Well, the whole team is here so he can’t be announcing a resignation.” Tony responded darkly. Both Wanda and I shot him a look and he held his hands up in defence.

Fury entered with a solemn look on his face. “Thanks for meeting so quickly. Let’s begin.” It was odd for Fury to thanks us, he rarely did, especially something so trivial. This must be bad. I take out my notepad and pen ready to take notes.

“A few months ago we sent an Agent to monitor and extract this woman. Sarah Petrov, who we believed was a Hydra sleeper agent. Our Agent went undercover working at the same coffee shop to gather intel before their real identity was revealed.” He stopped when he was interrupted by Steve. “Hang on, so you’re saying that you purposely were going to leak that they was a Shield Agent?” he asked perplexed.

“Yes, we didn’t know what her powers were and we though the best option was, once we had collected enough information, to create a leak which we could control and be able to apprehend the Hydra Agent. Once we could confirm that she was in fact who we thought she was, we would send in a team and extract both her and the Agent.” He paused for a moment. Again, something he doesn’t often do.

“Let me guess. It didn’t go to plan? Which his not surprising considering it was pretty much a suicide mission for the Agent!” Steve interrupted again. I noticed Fury’s fist tighten, he felt guilt, it would explain his current demeanour. Any other circumstance he would have called Steve out.

“Our Agent was found out and we sent in a team, however, Sarah proved too strong. She had powers similar to you Wanda, just not as strong. Our team was pushed back, and Sarah got away with Y/-the agent. We know their location but it’s too risky for us to send a Shield team in to get them.” Fury explains.

“So, you want us to infiltrate the base rescue the Agent and also apprehend this Sarah?” Steve clarifies. Fury simply nods in acknowledgement. Something does feel right, he’s somehow personally involved with this. “Who’s the agent?” I ask. There’s a long silence where Fury refuses to make eye contact with any of us. “Fury, I said who’s the agent?” I asked again growing frustrated.

“It’s Y/N.” There is a stunned silence. The whole team looking at each other. “But you told us she resigned.” Wanda challenged. “I did, it was best for the mission.” Fury said defending himself. “I think you need to tell us the truth here Fury.” Tony said angrily tapping the table.

“Y/N did come and hand in her resignation. I refused to accept as I knew she would be perfect for this mission. I asked her to hear me out. If she still wanted to resign after hearing about the mission, I said I’d let her go. She agreed and only Agent Hill and myself knew about it.”  Fury clarified, much to the annoyance of the team.

“Why was she perfect for the mission Fury?” I asked, angry that all this time I was looking for her, he knew where she was. “Because she wasn’t afraid if she were to get hurt, she felt like she had nothing left. Like Steve said it’s a suicide mission.” Tony said sadly. I could feel my heart breaking all over again.

“So, you’re telling me, that you used her vulnerability to get her to sign up to a mission that was more than likely going to get her captured of killed? I mean no other agent in their right mind would have accepted that mission! You let her emotional state dictate her commitment to Shield.” I started to yell raising from my seat, until I felt Wanda grasp my arm.

“I promised we would protect her. I got this wrong, I know this is on me. But we needed to ensure we got Sarah to save lives. Sometimes you have to make the tough decisions for the better good.” Fury defended right back.

“You don’t get to decide that Y/N’s life is worth less than another Fury!” I shouted in complete disbelief. “Nat, I know you’re angry, but this isn’t going to help save Y/N. We need a plan and then we’re going to get her back.” Steve says calmly taking control. “That’s assuming there is even anyone left to save.” I whisper, but I know the team can hear it.

After we devise a plan we race to suit up and head to the quinjet to infiltrate the base. “Ok here’s the plan one more time. Tony, you’re going to scan for any thermal signatures whilst we clear any enemies from outside, as quietly as we can. I we make too much noise then we know that they’ll kill Y/N. Once we have confirmed the numbers on the inside, Wanda and Nat you will enter from the East entrance, your primary objective is to find Y/N. Bucky and I will enter from the West to get Sarah. Clint, you’ll provide us cover for our return to the jet. We are not here to blow this base, it’s too risky. Our priority is getting Y/N and Sarah. Once we have them, we go.” We all nod in agreement as we arrive at our location.

We make our way through the wooded area taking out the Hydra agents quietly. Once completed we wait in position for Tony to confirm what we will be facing when we enter the building. “Scans show there to about 60 people inside. Nat and Wanda, when you’re in, stick to the rooms on the left, I think I can identify a prisoner but I’m not 100% sure. When you’re ready it’s time to go.” Tony confirms

On Steve’s mark we go, running in blasting our way through the entrances. Wanda takes down most of the agents coming in our direction whilst I check every room that we come across. They’re all empty and my frustration is growing. After a while Steve calls out on comms that they have Sarah and are making their way back to the jet. 

My optimism drops with ever room we check until we come to a locked re-enforced steel door. Wanda uses her magic to open it before standing guard on the door. I run in and see Y/N tied to a chair. “Y/N, can you hear me?” I ask running over to her. I can see she has taken a bit of a beating and has a stab wound to her stomach. “Y/N it’s me, it’s Nat. Wake up for me.” I shake her gently causing her to stir. “Urgh, Nat is that you? I must be dead.” She groans and I start to untie her from the chair.

“Wanda I’ve got her.” I call out. Before I know it, she runs in throwing her arms around Y/N. “Thank God you’re alive. Don’t you ever do that to me again!” She shouts trying to be angry, but I can tell she’s just relieved. “I can carry her if you’re ok to protect us?” I ask lifting Y/N up bridal style. “Of course. Let’s get out of here.”

We manage to get out pretty easily with Wanda able to deal with any attacking agents with ease. Once we’re back on the jet I lay Y/N down on the medical gurney whilst Wanda grabs the first aid kit. I grab Y/N’s hand and look into her eyes. “You need to stay with me ok. You’re going to be fine. We’ll patch you up and get you back home.” Looking at her in her vulnerable state I have all these things that I want to say.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I was scared, terrified that loving you was going to get us hurt, that love was something only for children…” I clutched on to her hand with both of mine, tears streaming down my face as Wanda tended to her wounds.

“Natasha, I don’t think this is the right time.” Y/N speaks out between winces of pain. “Now is the perfect time. The moment I found out you left was the moment I realised that I am weak without you. That your love made me feel invincible as long as I had you by my side. I know that I can’t take back the pain I caused you when I walked away. But I can promise you that I never fell out of love with you. I saw you as the person that I would spend the rest of my life with, to have a family with. But I found out too late and I had already lost you. I spent every day trying to find you again, so I could tell you the truth, to make things right. Please Y/N, give me a chance to make this right.” I speak so quickly scared that she won’t hear everything that I have to say, hoping that she will see that I am genuine and love her more than anything in this world.

There is a silence as Wanda starts to stitch up the stab wound on Y/N abdomen. I can see the pain it is cause so I squeeze her hand tighter letting her know that I’m there. “Nat…” she strains out. I wait, terrified of the rejection I know is coming my way. “uh, Nat, I wish you would have talked to me. Ahh,” She stops taking a deep breath as Wanda apologies. “I’m sorry Y/N almost done.” She waits until the last stitch is completed and carries on.

“Whilst I was gone, I was so angry at you, but I was most angry at myself. Angry that no matter how much you had hurt me, I still loved you. But I don’t know if I can put my heart on the line again. I won’t survive it breaking again.” Her own eyes are now starting to fill with tears. I carefully wipe them away from her bruised cheeks.

“I promise, I will never break you heart again. Let us start over, we can go on dates, get to know each other again. We’ll take it slow. You have always been the one to take care of me, to show me the love you had for me. Let me do that for you now. Let me prove how much love I have for you.” I am practically begging her at this point. I thought I had lost her forever, but now she is back in front of me I can’t lose her again.

“Ok.” She whispers out. “Ok?” I clarify. “One last chance Romanoff. But I swear if you break this heart again….” “I won’t, I promise. I will protect your heart for as long as mine beats.” I smile through my tears so happy to have her back. “If you break her heart again Nat, I promise I will kill you.” Wanda says, her eyes tinted with red. I gulp as Y/N lets out a chuckle.

“Kiss me” she says, looking me directly in the eye. I carefully hold her face in my hands, taking in her beautiful features once more. Leaning down I gently lock our lips together. It is a tender kiss that has so much meaning. So much love and forgiveness. As I pull away, I rest my forehead against hers. “I promise you Y/N Y/L/N that I will spend every day earning your forgiveness and showing you how much I love you.”

[wearyeyebrow]

Pride and Shame

Summary: Beel tells you of an afternoon yelling match between Belphegor and Lucifer. While Belphie plans his revenge, you notice that Lucifer has skipped dinner.

Tags: Hurt/comfort, Lucifer x MC, SFW

-

Lucifer stands just outside your bedroom door, poised to knock, but even still he hesitates.

He almost turns on his heel just as the door creaks open. There you are, dressed down for the evening, in comfy clothes, looking surprised to see him.

“If you’re busy I can come back another time.” He isn’t about to make a nuisance of himself.

“No, no I was just about to come to you - I didn’t see you at dinner.” You frown, and he’s torn between the feelings of ease and discomfort.

“I had work to finish.”

“That may be so, but you should at least have something to eat. Come in - please.” You open the door wide for him and yet he hesitates.

“Lucifer?”

Before he can think too hard about it he crosses the threshold, immediately warmed by the atmosphere of your room.

He eyes your textbooks sprawled all over the floor. “Were you studying?”

“Something like that,” you sigh. “Solomon has me on a wild goose chase, all for a special ingredient. I know he knows what I’m supposed to be looking for, but all he’ll give me are cryptic hints. I’ll probably be here all night…” You plop down on the plush carpet, sitting cross legged. You pat the ground beside you and motion for him to sit.

“Would you like some help?”

“I mean yes, I would, but I shouldn’t.” You sigh and run a hand through your hair. “I would love a break though - tell me about your day.”

“My day?” Lucifer settles in, resting his back against the frame of your bed. He straightens the crease of his pant leg. “It’s all very boring, really. My next week is booked solid so I’m trying to finish as much groundwork as I can now. Most of the day was spent signing my name.”

‘Mm, how delightful.” You drawl.

“Indeed.”

He’s quiet, as if that’s all he came for. He can feel your expectant stare and it irks him.

“So I… I may have heard about something that happened from Beel.”

Lucifer sighs, “Yes, what of it?”

“What happened?”

“Didn’t Beel tell you?”

“He told me parts of it, yes… I’m unfamiliar with the other layers of hell. Why did Belphie want to go to the sixth?”

“Because he’s an imbecile, that’s why.” Lucifer rolls his eyes, “Because he has no regard for his or Beel’s safety, because he lives to give me trouble. I had to reason their lives out of the Hands of Ill Temper. I just barely managed by the skin of my teeth.”

“What was Belphie after?”

“I don’t know and I don’t particularly care to know. He shouldn’t have gone in the first place. He has no excuse, leaving me to clean up their messes, putting Beel’s life in danger. Again.” Lucifer needs to move, to pace, something - everything in him itches. He settles on adjusting his socks.

“You really chewed them out, huh.”

“Naturally,” he huffs, “How else will they learn?”

“...Belphie said something else, didn’t he?”

Lucifer stiffens. “It doesn’t matter.”

‘Are you sure?”

Lucifer would rather forget it. He would rather skip dinner and continue working, pen scratching on paper, waiting for the memory to subside. But it never does, it just replays over and over again.

“Belphie, that’s not true, Lucifer doesn’t-”

“Why are you so upset anyway? I assumed you’d want us dead, since we cause you so much trouble. I’d be doing you a favor-”

“Oh doesn’t he? Look - he won’t even deny it, and now he’s just walking away - fucking evil bastard.”

With a click Lucifer had closed the door to his study, put on a cursed record, and refilled his inkwell. Hours of ruminating did nothing. Hours of work did nothing. Now he’s here. What is he doing here? Why did he stop by your door on his way to look for table scraps like a dog? What is wrong with him?

“It… doesn’t matter.” He should leave.

“I think it’s eating you.” He says nothing. “I think that talking about it might help.”

“What is there to talk about?” He bites.“They were reckless. This is nothing new. I reminded them of their own stupidity and Belphie retaliated. Again, nothing new.”

“But… something still bothers you.”

Lucifer clears his throat. “Belphie put both himself and Beel in danger chasing some whim. They could have been imprisoned, they could have been killed for their transgressions - that’s what bothered me, and now it’s finished.”

“I assumed you’d want us dead, since we cause you so much trouble.”

“Is that all that bothers you?” When did you get so close to him? He can feel your softness resting against his side.

“What else would?” Your gentle hand tugs at his glove, taking one off and then the other. This perplexes him but he can’t find it in him to stop you.

“What he said, you know, about you wanting him dead?”

“Nonsense. He was angry.”

“Beel was worried.” Beel was? Lucifer turns to look at you. “That’s why he told me about what Belphie said.”

He sighs. “If… If Belphegor is angry with me, let him be angry. It doesn’t change how I think about the situation.”

“Lucifer.” Suddenly your too steady gaze is fixated on him. “You can deny it all you want, but I… it’s clearly still eating you.” Lucifer’s brow furrows - how dare you assume? As if you’ve read his mind, you clarify. “I know I’m being presumptuous, I know, but please - it hurts you, doesn’t it?”

“Let it.” What is he saying? “Let it hurt. Whatever it takes. He can’t go down there again.”

“But doesn’t it matter that it hurts you?”

“Why should it?” He’s of two minds, one that desperately wants to talk to you, the other screaming at him, a cacophony of voices, pushing it down, down.

“It’s just me, Lucifer.” He feels the comforting warmth of your human hands in his, of your body just barely touching his side. Your room smells like you. The door is locked. It’s after midnight, and the house is quiet.

“I think…” Lucifer swallows, “I think I…

If he could crawl inside you he would. If he could speak directly to your mind he would, spilling his innermost thoughts and feelings without having to say them out loud. He gags on the words, as if once he starts they won’t stop.

This is what it means to be your friend, to be your partner, his mind desperately reasons. How can he fit vulnerability into an acceptable narrative?

He still can’t look at you. "I think I... I was afraid. If they aren't - if I can't be there, if I can't keep them in line, what's stopping the world from-" his eyes water and he blinks rapidly, head tilted back staring at the ceiling. "If he needs to assume that I hate him, if that's what it will take, then so be it."

"Lucifer, sweetheart-"

He sucks in a rattled breath. You can’t speak to him like that, not when he’s at his lowest. He doesn’t need your saccharine tone because he’s better than this, better than comfort or mistakes. Yet here you are, on the floor at midnight, speaking with such kindness and understanding. It’s because you’re an exception to his inner monologue of rules that his brain finally quiets like an oil lamp snuffed out.

"Is that what you want?"

"Of course not, but-"

"I know you’re willing to play the villain if it’ll keep them safe. I mean, you've done it before, for entirely too long. But remember what happened when you were honest? Things got better. Belphie came around and I finally understood you."

He scoffs. "It was a catastrophic failure - any good that came of it was all your doing-"

“Don’t I?”

"We've all come a long way together. It doesn't have to be this way. I truly believe it doesn't, things have already changed.” You plead with him. “Habits are hard to break. I know that Belphie was hurting when he said that, but you don't deserve to hurt like this either, Lucifer." He can't look you in the eye. "Hey," you continue gently, softly, "you don't, truly."

“No. They don’t and you don’t.”

He looks up at the ceiling again.

"I'm here because you don’t have to handle it alone." You murmur. “Because I care about you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Too late.” You lean over him and place a gentle kiss on his cheek.

He swallows, blinking rapidly, and gathers you in his arms to place a fierce kiss to your temple. He wraps himself around you, all at once too separate from everything you are. The noise quiets when you move to hold him instead. Your arms wrap around him, and after everything he’s done to you, he doesn’t deserve you in his life like this, in love with what little good remains in him. But, he supposes, his pride as a demon will make space for you, and for that he is grateful.

"Thank you," he croaks, "for choosing to speak with me."

"That’s what I’m here for, dummy.”

“You’re meant for so much more than that.”

“I just think…” you kiss the crown of his head, “that I’m meant for whatever I want, and I want to figure this out with you.”

Lucifer closes his eyes in the quiet darkness of your arms. You are a gentle reprieve to whatever remains of his soul.

[onedaughterofman]

Sin (Papa Emeritus x g/n reader)

Summary: Papa teaches you how sins are meant to be celebrated: on all fours, right in front of him.

Tags: +18, explicit adult content, Papa Emeritus being a manwhore manipulator, rough sex, oral sex, altar sex, overall blasphemy, religious references, religious trauma, some priest kink here. Around 2.4 K words. Reader is gender neutral.

Disclaimer: I wrote this thinking about Terzo but I guess it works with others too. Minors DNI pls.

“Please forgive me, Papa, for I’m afraid to sin.”

The crucifix sits heavy between your clenched hands. One by one, your fingertips stop on the beads, mentally recalling all those ancient prayers to the Lord below. Still, nothing releases the guilt that clings to your ankles and legs, that snakes up until it grabs you by the neck.

Inside the confessional booth, it’s impossible to see Papa Emeritus’ face. He remains silent, deadly so, to the point you begin to wonder if he’s there, if he can hear you.

“This is my first time confessing to you, Papa,” you continue, gathering a deep breath. It feels as if the air contains no oxygen, no richness to it. No matter how much you try to fill your lungs, it’s never enough.

The guilt. It’s all about the guilt, in the end. It consumes you right to the core, making it hard to get up the bed and do your work around the Clergy. Truth is, even if the veil covers your hair like a cold blanket, you have doubted whether or not you belong here. Previous experiences with religion have made you wary, bitter even.

This is supposed to be different, to release you from guilt and resent, from the trauma. This is your freedom now. Something you have to pursue, but it’s so hard when everything weighs so much on your body. A part of you is afraid Papa might be angry. The idea of him yelling and dragging you out of the chapel almost forces you to your feet, ready to bolt. You’ve barely interacted with him during the black mass, accepting the communion with an open mouth and open heart.

For a long moment, Papa states nothing. His voice is a low rumble when he speaks up, words laced with such kindness that it takes you by surprise. “Is that so?” He says, and you feel him leaning closer on the grille that separates both parts of the box. “And why?”

As much as the shame burdens your tongue, the words manage to escape through clenched teeth. “I don’t know,” you confess, the crucifix shaking in your hands. “There’s something I desire, but I’m fearful of it.”

Over the silence of the chapel, his words are too loud. They make you flinch. “Step out of the booth, please.”

Taking shaky steps, you obey. Standing right in front of him, his mere presence causes you to feel so small, so insignificant in the face of the chosen one. “Walk with me,” he instructs, a warm hand lingering in the small of your back, steering you into the dark.

You stop at the grand altar, right in front of the colored glass of the windows. The artwork is beautiful, intricate. Papa points to it, an open hand directing your gaze. “Do you know why we are here, standing in the open? Because there’s nothing shameful about having desires, and wishing to fulfill them.”

Contrary to what you initially believed, his voice is gentle, soft. His gloved hands ghost over your waist, fingers barely grazing your clothes. Yet, the touch delivers electricity down your legs, igniting sparks in your guts.

“Every time you desire something, that’s Lucifer’s voice whispering in your ear. It is only a matter of listening to his guidance, of trusting in his wisdom. There’s nothing wrong with sin, we were born from it, and were liberated from the clutches of tyranny thanks to it," he continues. "Good and evil are nothing but options humanity has. Satan has gifted us knowledge and sight. He gave us freedom to chase and fulfill our deep desires as we see fit. So, I ask again. Why are you so afraid?”

The question is something you have been pondering for years by now. Why are you so afraid of yourself, of your needs and wants? Why do you keep denying yourself, hiding? Is the real you ugly, sick and perverse?

Or is it merely free of preconceptions, of fear of judgment?

Even if there is not an answer inside your mind, you do your best to reply. “I’m ashamed, Papa. I’ve been told my desires are… impure, tainted. I know what I want, but I don’t know if I'm strong enough to get it.”

“It’s okay,” for a long moment, Papa Emeritus stays silent, contemplative. ”There’s a veil on your head, but you’re not wearing the habits. Have you taken your vows?”

“No, Papa. I’m lost.”

“That I can see. I see how lost you are, how much you’re hurting. Tell me, do you want me to make it better? Do you require me to show you how to enjoy a luscious, pleasant life?”

Right now, there’s nothing you desire more. You’re desperate, so thirsty for any kind of relief, willing to do anything to find a place to belong in this world. Breathless, the words escape your mouth like a confession. “Yes, please”

Papa smiles, a spark deep inside his eyes. “Then, let’s do it now. Let’s perform the oaths together. This shall be your communion.”

You hesitate, guilt gripping you by the calves, clutching your arms behind your back. He notes it. “If shame is what anchors your feet, then let me be the one to carry it for you. If you can’t take a full step forward, then take half, for I’ll meet you right in the middle.”

And half a step is what you take. “Oh, Papa,” you say, falling to your knees in front of him, nails clinging to the robes. “Please, instruct me. Be my guide into the darkness.”

“Don’t be afraid,” he says, extending his hand. “I’ll show you the way. Do you trust me?”

Against all reluctance, you do. “Yes,” you whisper, squeezing his hand. His leather glove is warm, soft under your skin. Papa offers you another smile, tighter this time. There’s a glint of something in it, something deep and dark, full of lust. It feels as if you’re making a deal with the Devil himself, as if you’re forfeiting your body and soul to Satan.

Even if that’s the case, what bliss runs inside your veins.

“We’ll silence your doubts together. There’s no better place to do it than here, right in the altar in front of the eyes of the Lord. This will be an offering to him and a lesson for you. Sin is to be celebrated, my dear. We’ll celebrate together as one.”

Escorting you right to the middle of the altar, Papa holds your hand and kisses the back of it. In a gentle but commanding tone, he orders you to take off your clothes. Slowly, button by button, the clothes fall to the floor. The cold air hits your exposed skin, sending shivers up and down your spine.

Papa’s eyes follow the curves of your thighs, the softness of your abdomen and your chest before stopping in your face. His hand cups your cheek, thumb slowly caressing over the bone.

You’re shaking. Either from the cold or the shame, it’s hard to tell. It’s not easy to stand bare and naked in body and soul in front of this man, in the middle of the chapel. Anybody could walk inside and see you, see everything.

Almost as if he could read your mind, Papa speaks up. “There’s no need to feel shame. Is this your first time doing something like this?” He asks, tilting his head.

The answer is yes. You’ve never done anything similar. Old, past experiences can’t compare to this. This is sinful, blasphemous, so dirty. Getting fucked in a church, by a priest… is scandalous.

And so, so exciting.

Nodding, your eyes fall to the floor as the heat of blood rushes to your face and chest. “Don’t worry. The inexperience, that is what makes me tremble,” he confesses, leaning closer until he’s whispering in your ear. “I’ll tell you what to do.”

Papa’s first order is to kneel before him. The wood is unforgiving under your knees, so cold on your feverish skin. Your neck strains when you look up to him, wide eyes burning on his face. From this angle, he almost doesn’t look human. Instead, he’s divine, irresistible in a way that shouldn’t be possible. There’s no doubt he is the chosen one, the one blessed by Satan.

The leather of his glove tastes bitter. Papa’s thumb presses down on your tongue and on your teeth, thick saliva coating the material. Your eyes follow the movement of his other hand, see the way he undoes the buttons of his pants. The outline of his erection is clearly visible, even through the layers of clothing.

“Let’s begin with the rites. You’ll receive your communion now.”

Papa’s skin is so warm. The precum leaking from his dick is salty, a faint aftertaste on your taste buds. His hands are on your head, one on your cheek and another on your hair, to keep you steady as he begins to thrust.

The movement is slow, controlled, but you still feel your gag reflex activate as he hits the back of your throat. Breathing deep through your nose, you focus on his abdomen, on the open robes and the embroidery on the under cassock.

He is big, so heavy on your tongue. Your hands curl on your lap, sharp nails digging on the plush flesh of your thighs as a way to keep you grounded. Papa is gripping your head, thrusting hard and fast, chasing his own pleasure without a care in the world.

The sight of his face as he looks down on you makes you moan, throat vibrating with the sound. He grunts, one of his big hands falling down to your neck and squeezing, not enough to choke, but enough to make you feel it. You gag, tears falling down from the corner of your eyes, getting lost somewhere on your collarbones.

Finally, when his muscles are tense and his mouth is agape, Papa stops. Pulling out, the tip of his cock traces your lips, smearing spit and precum. His fingers grab your chin, tilt your head up so you can look into his eyes. “You’re good, so good”, he praises. “Doesn't it feel satisfying, to indulge in your lascivious desires? Don't you want to get fucked, here in the altar? You’ll enjoy that, si?”

There are no words in your mouth, only his cum. Nodding eagerly, you follow his instructions as he backs away, letting his robes fall behind. “On your fours,” he commands, pointing at the stained glass that adorns the chapel. “I want you to look at the Lord and recite His praise. This is not for us only. This is an offering in His honor. We’re doing it in the name of Satan.”

Breathing deep, you try to recall all those lessons. Imperator’s voice is completely lost somewhere in the mind fog when you feel Papa’s fingers entering you, one at the time. His hand is burning, so hot and rough. A part of you wants to turn around, to see for the first time the bare skin.

It feels sinful, too intimate, wrong even. His tongue clicks in disapproval when you catch a glimpse of what he’s doing, of his fingers going in and out of your body, glistening in his saliva and your excitement. “Recite.”

“Our father…” you start, voice faltering when he hits the right spot. Your spine curves on its own, nails digging on the hard wood of the altar.

“Our father, who art in Hell. Unhallowed, be thy name,” Papa assist, voice deep and commanding. It is enough to prompt you to follow him, pupils focusing on the colored glass.

It’s useless. Your voice dies as he enters you, a loud, deep moan invading your vocal cords. Papa’s hands grip you by the waist, fingers digging hard enough to bruise. In the morning, you'll have plenty of mementos, you'll wear his mark with pride.

His thrusts are relentless, powerful. At some point, Papa presses down on your abdomen, causing you to feel him deeper and deeper, in your guts and even poking at the stomach. You wonder if he can feel himself moving inside you, if he feels as good as you feel right now.

His deep growl in your ear tells you he does. Going faster and faster, Papa thrusts until your arms can’t hold you anymore. Falling to the ground, the wood is a cold relief in your feverish face. Your sharp nails scratch the altar, as he hits it over and over again.

The borders of your vision become dark as you come, legs shaking and toes curling, stomach tight and back arched like a cat. Papa continues, hand pressing down between your shoulder blades, hitting even deeper until his movement becomes erratic and he comes, filling your insides.

For a long moment, he doesn't speak. Gradually, he pulls out, leaving you open and dripping for him. His fingers trace a way down your inner thighs, travel up your spine. “By the grace of Our Lord, you have received the communion of the Unholy Spirit. Hail Satan.”

“Hail Satan,” you breath out, eyes closed and mouth agape. There’s not a trace of strength in your muscles, nothing but bliss.

“And Hail yourself, Sibling. I’ll wait eagerly to celebrate your next confession.”

Without any other word, he stands up. Picking up his discarded robes, Papa begins to walk his way out of the chapel.

“Yes, Papa,” you reply. before he crosses the door. The air is beginning to come back inside your lungs, as the blood cools down. Alone on the altar, you rejoice in the feeling of his blessing trickling down your thighs.

PD: This is my retirement from the Ghost fandom. I'll never be able to write something like this again /hj.

Ask box is open so you can confess your sins, you priest-fuckers.

[anystalker707]

Love bites

Pairing: Frank x [gender neutral] Reader Word count: ~ 2 500 Genre: Smut Summary: Frank's like a little devil, getting on your way the whole time, and you get way too angry. Kind of content: Spanking / Overstim / Oral / Love bites / Dom-Sub dynamics / Dom! Reader

Requested by anon [Could u do a fic where Frank is just being an ass in general and pisses of reader toooo much? (With spanking?)]

MASTERLIST

          The last straw was fucking gone. Whatever you had in your head when you pondered it to be a good idea to let Frank follow you around while you worked on putting the instruments and equipment away was fucking thrown out the window and cursed. No way he could be that insufferable, acting as if he never saw an instrument before in his whole life, messing with everything and getting in your way while you carried heavy amps, no matter how much you told him to step aside. You told him to get lost at some point, telling Ray to take Frank with him, but Frank spawned out of nothing again as if sent from hell to continue his importunating journey.

At some point, you ended up dropping one of the amps, which caused Frank to simply disappear. Wherever the little devil disappeared to, you still needed to find out.

Gerard and Mikey already were off to something at the bus, but Ray was talking with the other members of the staff, but the lights to the dressing rooms were still on, which meant someone was still there.

“Frank!” You threw the door open and he was right there just as you expected, sitting up on the couch with a hand on his chest and looking at you as if he had seen a ghost. “So you’ve been hiding here you little—” You click your tongue, sighing as you close the door behind yourself and approach him; Frank looks around frantically, letting his legs fall off the couch, but he never gets to stand up before you are approaching him. “Y’know that I am telling Ray that you were the one responsible for that amp being broken, right? And you know what he said the last time you broke something. I doubt Brian is letting it go that easily, by the way.” None of those really had any effect on him; until you mentioned something else. “But I think I might have to solve this myself.”

Frank’s eyes widened as he looked at you. “(Y/—(Y/n)!”

“Really, Frank! What’s gotten into you today, hm?” You raised an eyebrow. The words spilled from your lips at the same intensity the blood ran through your veins, boiling hot with anger for what Frank did. “It was a hard day already because Gerard was throwing another one of his tantrums, then we had missing cables at the last moment, the string of Ray’s guitar broke and then you still had to be on the fucking way when I was putting things away from the concert? We lost another one of the Fender amps! What’s wrong with you?”

Your hand grabbed onto the collar of his shirt at the moment he threatened to stand up, so you just held him down and glared.

“I just—”

“I’m not having pity on you today,” you cut him off. “And don’t even try to convince me otherwise.” You glanced back at the door; it wasn’t locked, but you also didn’t believe anyone was going to walk in, so you started to unbutton his shirt.

Frank’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times just for nothing to ever come, only wide eyes observing your hands while his face grew warmer. The only sound he made was a gasp when your hands come in contact with the warm skin of his torso, your palms running flat across it while you pressed your lips to Frank’s; he took a moment to kiss you back, doing it all messily while he held onto your upper arms and leaned into your touch, a little disoriented, maybe just going with it. Maybe you changed your mind and you were going to be nice to him?

A gentle push on his abdomen made Frank fall back to the couch, sitting down on it again with his legs apart.

“Okay, pants and underwear off,” you mumbled to Frank a little breathlessly.

“I... Yes.” Frank just did as said. The couch didn’t really help his task—the dressing room’s worn out couch was black and made out of leather, with some spots already ripped and showing an ugly white sewing pattern with loose threads. That stuck to his damp skin, hence he looked like a miserable mess under your waiting gaze while he tried to kick his shoes off and remove the clothing as fast as possible. You would’ve laughed if you didn’t feel the urge to hit the back of his head so he would stop messing around.

After what felt like an eternity later, Frank leaned back on the couch with a blush that spreaded all the way from his cheeks to his tattooed chest. His hands were closed into fists and resting by each of his thighs as he looked up at you expectantly. His cock was half hard, sitting awkwardly between his legs. That dumb look of his. You wanted to strangle him.

“Goddamnit,” you breathed, almost hissing as you bent down to give Frank another kiss, one that didn’t last long; your lips were quickly on his chest instead and he almost protested that you’d just jumped over his favorite spot on his neck and didn’t even spend time enough on his chest because you were already on his thighs.

It was good, in a way.

No teasing, right? Right???

Your lips ran against Frank’s thighs for a moment, your breath tickling the skin and making it rise in shivers. It was almost mesmerizing. Frank observed you hold tightly onto his knees and run your lips ghostly against his thighs, never knowing when you’re truly going to do something, with the anticipation tugging on his muscles.

Frank gasped, loud and whiny when your teeth sank into his skin. There was no warning, nothing, and you were harsher than usual, nibbling on the skin and letting this warm pain sparkle through his body, going straight to his cock. A fucking masochist—he could almost hear you calling him that in the accusing tone you used whenever teasing him. It didn’t seem like you were in that cheerful mood anymore, though. Far from that.

Your lips sometimes would wrap around the skin to suck on it, something that should be soothing, but also was so painful and nice and pleasing... Moans spilled from Frank’s lips as he balled his hands in fists. His nails made crescent shakes into his palms, and it wasn’t like he was able to stop himself. What was he supposed to do with his hands? Hold onto your hair? Nuh-huh, not while you had fire in your eyes whenever you looked at him, looking like you could crush him with your bare hands. He didn’t want to die at the moment, very much the opposite.

Soft gasps escaped Frank’s lips as he observed you despite how he arched his back, and he was so fucking thankful that you held his knees or else he’d have thrown his legs shut already. Either way, he tried not to force it too much so you’d not get too angry. He was going to have purple spots all over his legs already. He could feel his thoughts slowly vanishing the more you touched him, the more you grew closer to his inner thighs...

Your mouth was hot and wet, your bites never changing the intensity, but the pain seemed to soothe and melt away into pleasure as Frank seeked for more and more of it. His thighs tensed up and his breath hitched when your lips locked around the soft, sensitive skin of his inner thigh; his hips drew up my impulse. Fuck, fuck, fuck, it was right into your face and—

A sharp slap landed on Frank’s thigh. It left his skin burning and the shape of your hand burned bright red into his skin. Whatever it was for, it worked. Frank had no thoughts in his head as he sat still and let you continue, just feeling the arousal pool in his lower stomach. If he was just half-hard earlier, by now, he was already almost dripping. His shirt stuck to his skin uncomfortably, but he didn’t want to move. If you wanted him with his shirt off, then you would’ve taken it off already, right?

You almost had one of Frank’s thighs over your shoulder as you kept going and finally, your tongue was running against the underside of his cock. The touch was light, almost not there, but still felt like heaven to Frank; he finally gained the friction he hoped for so much, and his hips pushed up again out of reflex.

Another slap.

Frank couldn’t help the whine that escaped from his lips. Pain was nice, yes, but the pain that you made him feel even more when you were treating him like that... That was a whole different level which he could barely handle.

Keeping his hips still was uncomfortable, but he tried to do it as best as he could because that meant, after all, receiving your touch. He had to measure what he wanted even if he didn’t have a clear notion of it, also balancing it with how he didn’t want to anger you further. It just became harder once you started pressing open mouthed kisses to his cock, sometimes letting your tongue poke out and— Hell, you were on that spot near his tip... A loud whine from Frank and a slight shift of his hips were enough to have your fingers sinking into his thighs, fingers poking into the flesh to hold him there despite how much you had to press. It didn’t matter if your knuckles would go white sometimes or if your fingers would hurt. The pain it caused wasn’t even a problem.

“Goddamnit...” Frank gasped almost incoherently and licked his lips—it burned, his lips all chapped and dry, but it made him wish you were kissing him. Or had kissed him more, actually, because he didn’t have any complaint about your mouth wrapping itself around his tip, warm and wet, letting your tongue run around his tip before you took more of him in. That was so, so good, but he still wanted more, and— Oh, he had an idea.

Frank snapped his hips up. This time not involuntarily, no, because he knew it would earn him not only more of your mouth, but also another one of those slaps that he would die before admitting he was into them.

The print of your hand on his skin was so fucking pretty, actually. Frank wore it proudly and stared hazily at the visible marks on his thighs before his eyes drove to you and the knot in his lower stomach tightened. Your hand was around the base while you worked mainly your tongue over him, coating his cock in spit, and it unfortunately didn’t run over his sensitive spots on purpose. They seemed to just be on the way. It didn’t mean that Frank liked it any less, though. He bit down on his lip and silenced a moan.

Sweat trickled down his forehead and his chest, and it fucking tickled, but it wasn’t worst than your teasing. Frank wanted you to take him into your mouth again so fucking bad, and it didn’t seem like you were doing to do anything like that so soon. A growl escaped his mouth again and he was squirming, wordlessly pleading you to do more, but all you gave him in response was another one of these harsh slaps; it made more precum spill from his cock, shamefully. Maybe he would cum from that alone if you kept slapping him and... Well, that wasn’t exactly a bad idea.

Frank moaned and squirmed again, receiving another slap, but this time, your mouth didn’t return to him. Instead, fingers sank into Frank’s jaw and made him look down.

“You really want to test my patience today, don’t you?” Your glare was cold at the same time something burned in it; Frank couldn’t quite explain. All he could do was hopelessly moan in return, almost whining, what made you click your tongue and shake your head.

Okay, perhaps, it did work! Your mouth was around Frank, taking him in, and this time, you weren’t even teasing. Your cheeks hollowed and tongue worked against his cock, with a decent speed while your hands held him in place by his hips. Frank’s thighs trembled as he finally came, the pleasure finally reaching its peak and sending a wave down his spine that kept him throbbing for a while later.

Your mouth continued around Frank to ride him down from his high, though it didn’t stop there. Frank hadn’t even caught his breath when he was already gasping again, his thighs twitching and threatening to close around you because you keep going as if he didn’t come. Didn’t you notice? Well, no way. ‘Doesn’t matter, though, he can go again.

The pleasure was more intense, amplified by how Frank had already come once and was hard again inside your mouth, easily becoming a damn mess under your touch. He couldn’t even control his hips anymore, and hissed once your palm came in contact with his skin again; it wasn’t as harsh as the previous time given the position, but it still gave the message.

Your tongue wasn’t ignoring his soft spots now, much the opposite. Frank couldn’t help the whines that spilled from his lips whenever your tongue would find the spot under his tip, around it or near his base and just fucking work on there for what felt like forever. Whatever you were into, it already had Frank coming a second time, easier, but still intense and enough to have his thighs quivering under your touch. The sweat was already enough to have him sliding down the couch now and then, struggling to keep himself up properly, even more given how you didn’t stop. Hell— What were you trying to do? He gasped as he messily moved, only stopping when he had a thigh over your shoulder and the other under your arm, already half-lying down on the couch.

“(Y/—(Y/n),” Frank slurred, unable to talk properly. Even thinking was hard, to be honest. “What are you... d—doing?” His voice was shaky, and he would probably drool if he wasn’t careful. Even if it was becoming overwhelming and driving him into overstimulation enough to give his leg light spasms, saying the safeword didn’t feel suiting. He was going to see how far it was going.

You didn’t reply, only holding him tighter and focusing on your work. All Frank could do in response was whine, already feeling hopeless and giving up to whatever you were doing, throwing his head back and holding onto the back of the couch to ground himself to something other than how heavenly your mouth felt around his cock.

Frank’s third orgasm was watered down, short, but still enough to make him all whiny. This time, you had already pulled away and stood up while he still lay across the couch messily, whining and speaking slurred words; it only came to an end when you slapped his thigh—full hand, leaving a huge red mark, the strongest slap so far. Frank immediately gasped and arched his back, eyes wide.

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

[sadie-bug345]

Can I get a sugar mommy/daddy gn s/o x greasers headcanons?! (nothing creepy, and no age gap like that but I’m talking if like they dated a really rich soc who got them anything they wanted) I just think this would be super hilarious and kind of a good concept for a dynamic

Much love thanks youuuuu!

ILYSM and shore🫶🫶BTW IM doing these hcs with @urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites ‼️ check out their blog🫶🥰

ponyboy:

guy lowk balling after you start treating him to material things

like don’t get me wrong he’s really gracious

but everyone starts noticing his newer jeans and how you guys always go to nicer, more expensive restaurants

its honestly really cutie

and he always says thanks no matter what like even if it’s actually not that big of a deal he’s like

”🧍‍♀️🫵😀no. thank YOU”

LMAOO

johnny:

probably barely understands what’s going on ngl

just cause he has never been treated that nicely when it comes to material things

so it makes him kinda uncomfortable at first

cause money was such a tight subject in his awful family that he’s like NO don’t get me that ring and when you do he genuinely appreciates it

probably doesn’t really express it though, other than a quick “thanks😀”

but that’s ok cause bro has had a hard knock life asf✊

sodapop:

goes a LITTLE crazy with the shopping

but for genuine stuff like clothes or shoes or smth

not like TWO BIT (more on him later)

ANYWAYS

once he finds out you’re paying for dinner he gets MANY apps and ‘serts

as the middle child he kinda has to try a bit harder to get attention when it comes to his brothers

but he really appreciates all you do for him🫶

darry:

SAYS NO TO YOU PAYING FOR STUFF

but in like, an affectionate way🥰‼️

just cause he’s already used to having to work for everything he’s gotten

he doesn’t really like you paying for him bc of that

but you just keep. insisting. and he’s very thankful

bc he gets to save money on like groceries or smth actually important😭

dally:

probably just like

”*scoff* no.”

he just seems the type to not accept that cause he has an EGOOO

like if he and cherry (or someone like cherry) went on a date and they offered to pay he’d be like 🤨

“uh…what?”

but that doesn’t mean he’s paying for your luxury fashion sprees

yall just go to wherever he can afford so like

…the dumpster🧍‍♀️

LMAOOOO

two-bit:

GOOFY

i feel like i start all his hcs with “GOOFY” but here we go again

probably buys candy or cigarettes or pranks just dumb stuff

and he comes back with an armful of crap and you’re like

”o-okay then🧍‍♀️”

it’s funny though cause you learn to lighten up a bit

eventually you cut his money supply off tho LMAO

steve:

probably doesn’t really notice

but his household life SUCKS too so he seems like a johnny type reaction dude

just awkwardly says thanks

BUT

he really does remember all the nice things you do for him that you didn’t have to

very sweetie🥰

ANYWAYS MY INBOX IS OPENNN🫶‼️‼️

[imaginemalereader]

Anonymous request: Imagine being Tony’s trans son and having panic attacks

It was stupid you thought. Your dad was the one who had lived through all the trauma and yet you were having panic attacks. They hit worst late at night, when you stayed up either to enjoy the quiet of the night time or because your brain wouldn’t shut up and let you sleep. Either way, it seemed the quiet let your brain run wild in all the ways you didn’t want it too.

You hadn’t told him about it. He had enough on his plate to deal with, you didn’t want to bother him with something you felt you should be able to work through.

It didn’t matter though. As busy as he was, he noticed you looking more tired, sleeping later in the mornings, and Jarvis had alerted him to your movements in the middle of the night. He let it go for about a week once he knew, figuring it could just be a temporary thing, that there was something with school causing your late nights. He did worry it might be something to do with your gender but you had never mentioned it being a problem at your school and certainly no one at the school had told him anything (if they had he would have lit a fire under their asses to fix it).

When nothing changed, he decided he would step in.

You were having a bad night. It was 4 am and you were lying in bed wide awake. You’d tried all your usual tricks to fall asleep: music, ear plugs, meditating, music again, just lying down with your eyes closed. None of it worked. Instead your brain was firing on all cylinders. It was running the gamut of catastrophizing, reflecting on past mistakes and embarrassments, and heightening your anxiety for no discernible reason at all. If you weren’t quickly falling into a panic attack, you would have yelled at your brain to pull itself together. Alas, it was too late for that.

Your heart rate quickened and your breathing changed. You started shaking, despite not being cold. It felt like you were drowning in your mind. Everything was moving too fast and you didn’t have anything to hold onto.

Jarvis alerted Tony to your rapid heartbeat, so rapid it had triggered his warning systems, and your dad was soon knocking at your door. You were vaguely aware of it but were too busy trying to hit the breaks on your brain to actually respond. After a couple seconds without a response, your dad opened your door and saw you curled on top of your sheets, trying desperately to keep it together.

He rushed to your bed and sat next to you, running a hand through your hair as you buried your face into a pillow, like that might muffle your pounding heart and racing thoughts. He rubbed your back gently.

“Hey kid. What’s going on bud?” He asked softly. 

You just shook your head, not ready to speak just yet, though you could feel yourself coming back to ground slowly.

“Okay you don’t have to say anything, but I’m not going to leave you kiddo.”

“Thanks.” You mumbled out from the pillow. 

Your dad kept his hand on your shoulder, occasionally running it up to your hair. He remembered how happy you were when you first cut it, even before you’d come out. He knew you’d had a couple problems from people when you did come out, but he made sure your school took care of it. And all the other Avengers were very quick to accept you and make sure they gendered you correctly and use your name. Oh and god help any reporter that got it wrong. Tony and Pepper would rain hell upon them and sometimes it was hard to tell which was scarier (actually Pepper was always scarier, Tony was more humiliating though).

You pulled your face out of the pillow and looked over at your dad.

“There he is. I was afraid the pillow monster had won.” He said, trying to joke but you could hear in his voice that he was actually worried.

“Sorry.”

“What’s going on? You haven’t been sleeping well, probably worse than me and that’s impressive, but not a good thing.”

“I’ve just been having some insomnia lately.” You shrugged as much as you could from your position.

“Uh huh, and?” He knew that was not all there was. What he had walked in on was not ‘just’ insomnia.

You looked away from him again, studying the wrinkles in your pillowcase. You didn’t want to admit the truth to your dad.

“Buddy you can tell me anything, I’m not going to be mad at you.”

“Cap’s suit is cooler than yours.” You made the joke quickly. Part of it was your nature as a Stark but the other part was intention deflection.

Your dad whacked the back of your head lightly.

“You can tell me any true thing.” He amended. He wanted to laugh at your joke, you were clearly his son, but he did have bigger things to focus on.

“I, uh, it’s stupid.” You weren’t the one with PTSD from saving the whole world. 

“It’s not stupid. Thor breaking the toaster trying to make a pop tart, again, is stupid.”

“I’ve been having panic attacks.” You rushed the sentence out quietly. “I told you it was stupid.” You added.

“Hey.” He said sharply. You looked up at him, worried you would see anger but that wasn’t the reason for the sharpness. “It’s not stupid and I won’t hear a son of mine calling himself stupid, especially for having panic attacks. You didn’t ask for them or build a robot that decided to go crazy and inflict you with panic attacks. How long have you been bottling this up?”

“The insomnia, I think a couple months. The panic attacks really started getting bad just the last week or two. I thought I could get a handle on them but it seems like they keep winning.”

“We can’t have that now can we. Stark brains are a little overactive as you might have noticed. If anyone’s brain here is stupid, it’s mine. Have you seen all my failed inventions and recordings? Actually, I don’t want you to see those.” You laughed softly at your dad’s self deprecation. Though if he was going to make you work on your own, you were going to make him work on his too. “Anyway, I think this is something you shouldn’t be handling on your own kid. What do you say in the morning, the real morning not this whatever 3 am crap is that’s not the real morning, we find someone that you can talk to about this?”

“You’re not embarrassed?”

“First of all, this is not embarrassing. I love you no matter what. Second, I have done so many embarrassing things in my life there’s no way this could even register on the embarrassing scale.”

“Morning sounds good then.” You agreed. One day, when you were a little older, you would ask your dad about all those embarrassing stories and failed inventions.

“Get some sleep kid. I’ll see you in the morning.” He said, getting up from your bed.

“Okay.”

“Love you bud.”

“Love you to Asgard and back.” You said, a saying you picked up after first meeting Thor.

“That’s a long way kid. I love you to Asgard and back.”

He closed the door and you burrowed back into your bed, finding that your brain was more amenable to sleep now. You closed your eyes, glad your dad had your back about this too.