#craving comfort

[babyjakes]

craving comfort. [blurb.]

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | feb '23 blurb night

summary | andy's so proud of you when you finally seek him out for comfort.

pairing | daddy!andy barber x little!reader

warnings | sfw regression (daddy!andy and little!reader), reader is having an implied bad mental health day (anxious, stressed, overwhelmed), reader has been pushing andy away, fluffy comfort and sweet soft daddy!andy

word count | 466

requested by @bunnywinters | Could I submit a request for daddy!Andy where little!reader is having a bad mental day and she is not allowing Andy to take care of her and he has to give her a stern but gentle reminder of letting people care for her. She keeps pushing until she has a nightmare due to stress and comes to his office that night and says “I need you Daddy” (non-sexual) and let the comfort ensue 💕

an | aww thanks for this request friend, this is such a perfect way to start out our little hurt/comfort event <3 i kind of consolidated things for the sake of making it blurb-length, hope that's okay with you and hope you enjoy!!

"Daddy wants to help, bubba. But I can't if you don't let me." Andy's words are fresh in your mind as you stand meekly just outside his office door; in fact, they've been echoing in your head all day. You know your daddy's always here for you. Unfortunately, it usually takes you a while to come around to his help.

Looking down at your socks, you grumble softly. You had almost made it through the whole day; you were hoping to just sleep everything off and feel better in the morning. But then a nightmare hit, and things grew to be too unbearable. You needed your Daddy- you need him. "Need him," you mumble as a way to will yourself forward, taking the brave step of reaching up to knock softly against the door in front of you.

"Come in," Andy's kind voice calls from inside. Easing the door open, you peek around it, eyes settling in on the man as he sits at his desk. When his gaze finds you, his expression immediately softens. "Hey honey," he breathes, "what's up? You need something?"

Daring to take a step inside the office, you can't help but let your eyes fall to the floor as you fumble a bit for your words. Sensing your hesitancy, Andy rises from his seat, a knowing look already forming on his face. "Hey," he hums softly as he makes his way over to you, bending down in front of you as he attempts to catch your gaze once more. "You okay, pretty girl? What's on your mind, hmm?"

Against every effort you're putting into stopping it, you can't help but let your feelings of longing consume you; as you blink back tears, Andy reaches out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "Just... need you, Daddy."

Understanding your words the moment they leave your mouth, the broad man doesn't hesitate to pull you into his arms, rising back up to his feet as he cradles you close to his chest. Swaying you back and forth, he plants a kiss on the top of your head as you allow yourself finally to surrender and cling to him. "I'm right here, bubba. I got you- I'm so proud of you, little one. Know it's so hard to ask for help, but look at you- you're being so brave."

Tucking your head into the crook of his neck, you simply melt into Andy's embrace, finally letting out what feels like a huff of air that you've been holding in all day. "You're okay, sweetie. Daddy's here now, right here with you. Let's go sit on the sofa, hmm? Curl up with a blanket- we can grab you a juice box, too. Daddy wants to hear all about what's troublin' you, bub."

[furiousgoldfish]

Craving comfort isn’t a weakness. Cravings exist because there is an unfulfilled need. Having unfulfilled needs doesn’t say much about you, it says a lot about people who were responsible for fulfilling them. You didn’t put that craving there, and you didn’t create that need. Someone else did this to you.

Your craving exists because your body is still trying to find a way to get better, to fulfill whatever you missed out on. It believes that things can get better, that you can be a completely fulfilled person, and it longs for it. Your instincts aren’t weak. You’re a human asking to thrive, despite everything you’ve been thru. You’re not wrong for needing that to happen.

[so-lay-with-me-in-the-trees]

you ever desperately need to breakdown and get some feelings out but no matter what you do you can't cry

[cronchy-baguette]

When all this is over, will you stay with me? For good?

[thejackalhasarrived]

10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU (1999), dir. Gil Junger

[margumis]

it’s literally negative 2 degrees (F) with a windchill of -35 (F) and i think im gonna kms

[urlocalwhumper]

living weapon whumpee who's never known anything but pain and violence.

their existence hurts. they were made to be effective, not happy, and their masters decided that keeping them in constant pain provided better results. they're wilder, more unpredictable, and the pain keeps them from thinking straight enough to question anything.

they're only given painkillers, only allowed a respite from their seemingly endless suffering, after a successful mission. it keeps them loyal, and most importantly, teaches their brain to associate acts of violence with relief and rewards.

everyone they've ever met has treated them as a tool, a monster, or both. they don't know how to be anything else.

that is until they're rampaging through a village, destroying, killing, whatever their masters demand of them. whatever will give them a few blissful hours of numbness.

one of the villagers steps out of a ruined building and looks them straight in the eyes. whumpee expects fear, hatred, disgust, the things they see in the faces of every person who's ever crossed their path. but they see something completely different.

compassion.

whumpee is so stunned, they don't think to move or do anything at all as the villager steps closer, gently reaching out a hand to cup whumpee's face.

"oh, poor thing." they murmur, taking in the creature in front of them - part human, part animal, part machine. "they've done a number on you, huh?"

whumpee blinks at them. pain continues to course through their body, but the gentle hand on their cheek distracts them, even if just a little. all the indistinct noise in their foggy, addled mind finally goes quiet.

caretaker had stepped out in front of the being destroying their home with the intention to get through to it or die trying, and the expectation to absolutely die trying.

they did not at all expect the seemingly feral mishmash of metal, fur, and flesh to lean so heavily into their touch that they nearly collapsed into caretaker's arms.

[strangersmunsons]

you're not feeling your best. Eddie gives you some much needed comfort. eddie munson x fem!reader, ~800 words

“Hey, Eddie?” 

Your soft voice breaks the comfortable silence hanging over the bedroom, where you and Eddie have been curled up in each other’s arms since you finished making love some time ago.

“What’s up, baby?” He strokes a calloused hand up and down your back, tracing gentle patterns into the skin with his fingers in a way that makes you shiver. You press your body even closer to his.

He smells musky with sweat and drugstore cologne, and the faint whiff of tobacco that lingers from his post-sex cigarette. He tilts his head down to press a sweet kiss to your shoulder, and then another, and then another.

You hesitate, unsure if you want to break this spell of gentleness by voicing your insecurities. But then Eddie traces the furrow between your brows with a delicate finger, smoothing out the small crinkle. His face is expectant. Waiting.

“Can I ask you a question?”

He gives you a dopey half-smile, the really sleepy one that you love the most. “You just did, didn’t you?” 

You try to grin back, but it comes out more like a grimace.

His smile fades, face lining with concern as he takes in your expression. You've apparently hidden your unease from him well tonight; he doesn't like it. He brings a hand up to your face, cupping your cheek in his palm. “Of course you can,” he says soothingly, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb.

You sigh at his touch. “Don’t laugh,” you whisper, throat tightening. 

“I would never, sweetheart,” he whispers back.

You stare up at him, eyes welling with tears. You shift uncomfortably in his arms, overwhelmed by the urge to suddenly run from the room. 

“Hey.” Eddie gently pats your cheek, growing alarmed at how upset you look, but nonetheless staying calm for your sake. “Talk to me, angel.” He sits upright in bed, pulling you with him, so your tangled limbs are all gathered into his lap. He rocks you ever so slightly side to side, and curls one hand around the back of your neck so he can bring your forehead to his. “What’s got you all worked up?”

You don't want to tell him anymore, but you’re unable to hide from him like this. Your lip quivers uncontrollably. “Do you…do you think I’m pretty?” The words are wispy, barely there.

You might as well have taken a knife to Eddie’s heart. Shock flickers across his face before sinking into unbelievable sadness. He crushes you to him. “Of course I do. I think you’re so pretty, baby. I think you’re beautiful.” The words become muffled as he buries his face in the crook between your shoulder and neck. “Most beautiful girl in the world.” 

That does it.

Fat tears spill over your bottom lashes, and you hug him back as hard as you can. 

Eddie caresses and kisses every part of you he can reach. “Why’d you ask me that, huh? Did I do something to make you feel like you aren’t?” Every part of him aches at the thought of making you feel undesirable, accident or not. 

You can only snuffle in reply at this point, too caught up in your tears to answer him coherently.

“Shhh,” he hushes you gently, rubbing your back. “Take a deep breath, baby. Try and relax for me, okay?”

He continues to coo sweet nothings in your ear while you let it all out, until you eventually come down from the crying jag. You slump against him, exhausted, waiting for the last few rogue sobs to finish wracking your body.

Eddie holds you all the while, and then tucks you away under his chin. 

His voice is soft like velvet. “What happened to my girl today?” He resumes the gentle swaying from before, hoping the motion will soothe you. “What’s making you feel like this?”

“O-overheard…s-some people t-today…” you manage to stutter out. 

Eddie’s jaw sets. Would you and he never escape the cruel judgment of others?

“They’re wrong,” he says firmly. “Don’t listen to them. Just listen to me, yeah?”

He jostles you lightly in his lap when you don’t answer. “I said, yeah?” 

“Y-yes, Eddie.”

He softens again. “Good girl.” He dots a few more kisses onto your head. “You’re beautiful, sweetheart. I thought you were the second I saw you. And then you turned out to be beautiful on the inside, too. Lucky me, huh?” Another kiss. “My beautiful girl. You’re my angel.”

Your voice is still watery, almost inaudible. “Thank you.”

He gives you a tight squeeze, still speaking in dulcet tones. “I’m happy to tell you that, because it’s true. I’ll tell you all the time now.” Kiss. “I think you need some sleep, sweetheart. I promise you’ll feel better in the morning.”

He doesn’t let go of you for the entire night.

[andrumedus]

Morgan Parker, Other People’s Comfort Keeps Me Up At Night; “Greetings from Struggle City”

[Text ID: For a taste of your neck I would / burn my tongue]

[arthursfuckinghat]

"I was gonna say you're like a son to me.. but you're more than that."

"It ain't that complicated!"

How quickly that shoulder pat of comfort turned into a condescending one.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Culture Shock

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[am-i-interrupting]

Hey! I’ve been lurking your page for a little while, and really like your work! I was wondering if maybe you could write headcanons for Husk and Lucifer comforting a reader who has sensory issues, and accidentally came into contact with a texture that made them feel really overwhelmed?

Husk

Very befuddled the first time this happens. This man does not know what to do.

He wants to help but he doesn’t know how and is afraid of making things worse.

Depending on how badly you react, he won’t even ask you questions, afraid of overstimulating you more.

He just extends his paw for you to make as much or as little contact as you want and tries to guide you to a quiet, dark space.

After that first time though, he gets prepared.

He asks you what triggered it. Gets rid of all of those textures. Asks you what textures will help you get rid of the bad ones and writes it down in a list.

He also does this with all your other senses. Smell, taste, sight. Very aware of his surroundings.

This will be one of the times he won’t grumble and complain (no matter how light hearted) when you start petting him (be it fur or feathers) and ask if he could start purring.

He is a big, winged cat. This man is king of DPT.

Lucifer

In my head & heart, Lucifer has AuDHD. He gets it.

The first time it happens, he is looking around the room for something, anything he’s noticed you fiddle with a lot (because he’s hyper analyzed your body language, of course he knows what you fiddle with).

He grabs it and offers it to you.

He gets some water for you after you calm down, fetches your favorite blanket, and just sits next to you.

If you get embarrassed afterwards, he assures you that he understands.

You two talk about what your triggers are. You agree on several and complain about how it’s just awful. The worst. Heaven must have created it specifically to torture the both of you.

Overall, just a lot of camaraderie between the two of you. Lots is shared experiences.

Now you both have someone to look out for each other.

[joejoeba]

[juustozzi]

Like a déjà vu, but across the universes

[enkidusbi]

"girls with a time machine would do x, boys with a time machine would do y" if i had a time machine, i'd go back to the 90s and kick off a production of a flawed but deeply loveable tv adaptation of the epic of gilgamesh on a budget of an average 30 dollars per season. it would have a consistent fanbase on tumblr and a reneissance now in the 2020s. it would make our entire generation feel a deep-seated childhood nostalgia for humanity's oldest known story. the sets would be made from styrofoam. it would all be made with such love.

[escapismisaddicting]

Welcome to the first episode of “Should I write this?”

A fic where Batman visits Superman and Clark is like “What is it? Who’s dying? Are aliens invading?” And Bruce just slams a bottle of alcohol on the table and proclaims, “I need someone to talk to.”

Clark is shocked cause- Bruce? Willingly talking about feelings?

Bruce knows that he won’t talk unless he’s shitfaced.

Then Bruce starts crying and it’s perhaps one of the most surreal and terrifying experiences Clark has ever had. Because his best friend- who he has been trying to get to open up to him for years- is now honest to god sobbing on his arm and Clark doesn’t know what to do. And he’s absolutely wrecked when Bruce asks him-

“Clark… Am I a bad father?”