#& gn reader

[gilverrwrites]

Oops

AN: Answer to an Anon regarding the Batboys reactions to finding their partner (during the early days of their relationship) sleeping with nothing on their lower half, or finding out they're not wearing underwear beneath their comfy bottoms. Gender Neutral!Reader Ft. Jason, Tim, Bruce, & Dick. In that order. No smut, but suggestive content below.

Jason is so dog-tired, too drained to make it back to his own place when he climbs through your window in the middle of the night. Normally he’d text or call ahead to ask if it was okay. But he’s done this a million times, and you’ve always told him that he doesn’t need to ask; he’s always welcome.

He’s already half asleep as he sluggishly kicks off his boots. He doesn’t notice your naked leg hanging out of the covers as he strips down to nothing but his vest and boxers. There’s a half moment of clarity as he stands above your sleeping form where he wonders if he should wake you, if only to alert you to his presence, but you look so peaceful, he doesn’t want to disturb you. He just wants to sleep.

So, he crawls into bed beside you and quickly dozes off. It’s not until hours later, as the sun peeps in between the curtains and he starts to wake that he realises something is off. Somehow, you’ve managed to become entangled during your sleep, which isn’t uncommon. Your back is to his chest, his arm draped around your waist, rough fingers under your oversized shirt and rested on your soft lower stomach. You mumble something dozily, rolling your hips in your sleep and his hands incidentally sink lower, and lower, before they touch something that he should certainly not be touching without permission.

“J-Jason? What’s going on.” You mumble, half-opened eyes staring at him blearily, having been marginally awakened by the ferocity of Jason ripping his hand away from you and jumping out of the bed.

“Nothing! Go back to sleep. I’ll call you later.”

Thanks to the low rise of your joggers, Tim's eyes are already glued to your hips as you lean over him to patch up a wound on his shoulder. It’s late, and quiet. You’re weary after he disturbed you in the middle of the night. He’s still feeling a little woozy from a knock to the head, and the way your lower body sways has him hypnotised, at least until you turn away from him, bending over to find something in your med kit. He’s distracted immediately by the garment label which is hanging out of your waistband at the back.

Without a second thought, he leans over to tuck it back in for you but as his fingers slip below the band you stand, having already started the motion to move back over to him. The sequence of mis-timed events results in your bottoms being pulled just low enough to bare your ass.

Perhaps if he was feeling 100% himself, Tim would have had the graciousness to look even a little bit guilty about it. You doubt it very much though. Instead, he bites his lips, eyes roving the curve of your backside before following the arc of your body right up to your face where he greets you with a lopsided but decisively provocative smile before whispering; “Oopssss.”

“If Punchline hadn’t already done it, I’d smack you upside the head.” You chide, brushing his hand away and pulling your pants back up much to Tim’s disappointment.

“Awh, c’mon. Don’t be like that.” He’s still smiling as you push him back into place so you can continue to see to his injuries. “Was just a happy accident.”   

There's a chill in your bones, one so sudden and biting that it jolts you awake. The first thing you notice is the imposing shadow at the end of your bed. Instinctively you shoot up into a seated position, pushing your body backwards and against your headboard until you start to recognise features of the silhouette before you; the lean shoulders, and stiff posture. The glaringly blankness of his chiselled lower face, and the emblem on his chest.

"Bru- Batman?" You exclaim irritated but relieved. “You scared me!”

Your sort-of-but-we-haven’t-quite-defined-it-yet-boyfriend doesn’t reply, and you start to worry again, inclining toward him unconsciously until he deliberately clears his throat. Between the mask and the darkness of the room, you’ve no idea what he’d been looking at exactly, but the polite, intentional turn of his head has it dawning on you quickly.

In an instant you snap your legs closed, embarrassed to have been so exposed but one panic fades to another as Bruce begins to rummage in your wardrobe, informing you that he has reason to believe you’re in danger and that he’s taking you to a safe house for your own protection as he hurtles underwear and pair of trousers at you.

Your nerves begin to calm as you sit in the passenger seat of The Batmobile listening carefully as he brings you up to speed with everything that’s happened and how he plans to fix it.

At least until he begins speaking in a voice that feels intentionally a little smoother than his vigilante persona would typically use. “I’d you’d like, you’re welcome to take your pants back off when we get there.” And again, you can’t tell where he’s looking, but the coy smile on his lips tells you all you need to know about what he’s thinking.  

Dicks always had a habit of hooking his fingers into the waist of your pants to get your attention by pulling you closer or to direct you around busy areas. Even before you’d started dating.

You’d woken before him, but he’d followed not long after, sensing your missing presence from the bed and following the smell of breakfast. It’s the most natural thing in the world for him to grab you by the drawstring band of your joggers as a greeting, planning on pulling you away from the sink so he can accost you with morning-breath-laced kisses.

There is a solid 10-second interval in which he stands, staring at you, stock still and silent as he registers the lack of barrier between his skin and yours, and a further 10 more as he examines your face, searching for signs of distress. When he finds nothing but bashful excitement he grins at you, devilish, sinking his fingers further down so he can graze the space just above your stirring sex before fisting the fabric to pull you closer.

“For me?” He quizzes with a quirked brow as he leans in close to you, still watching every micromovement of your face.

“For comfort.” You correct him with a playful grin, lacing your fingers in his shirt regardless.  

Feigning disappointment, he sucks on his teeth for a second, rolling his eyes and head back before turning to you with a pout. “An’ here I thought I was special.” Despite his ‘dismay’ you feel his free hand decisively press into the small of your back, holding you in place as the other begins to explore beneath your joggers.

[no-144444]

abu dhabi- o.piastri

summary: your first season as an f1 driver doesn't start the best, and you quickly realise McLaren doesn't like women very much. On top of that, your race engineer is as smug as the rest of them, and you have to deal with him all the time.

pairing: race engineer! oscar piastri x f1driver! fem! reader

warnings: lots of misogyny, lando is an asshole in this, illusions to ed behaviour, reader is not in a good head space, all of mclaren is super sexist, mentions of crashes and injuries. (THIS CHAPTER IS 18+ PIV SMUT)

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven

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Abu Dhabi. World Drivers Champion. World Constructors Champions.

Holy shit. 

All those years of hard work, of giving up being a child, of giving up having friends or family. You’d done it. You were a winner. 

You jumped out of the car and ran straight to Oscar, jumping in his arms. He caught you (of course) and cheered with you. 

“You fucking did it!” he smiled, pulling your helmet off. “You did it!” 

Every emotion flooded through you, but one in particular stood out; gratefulness. 

You were grateful for Oscar, for how he treated you, for who he was. He was there for you through everything, he helped you whenever he could, and while yes, you had a rough start, in the end you couldn’t imagine F1 without Oscar in it. 

“Thank you, Osc, for everything,” you smiled, hugging him close. 

“Anytime. Whenever. Always,” he nodded. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

He was drunk as fuck, but he was still watching you as you chatted with various team members. 

“You’re fucked, aren’t you?” Lando chuckled, joining his side. 

Oscar rolled his eyes. “I’m drunk, yes.”

“No. You’re fucked for her,” Lando pointed twoards you. Perfect, unreachable, you. 

“Yes,” he nodded, frowning. “I’m fucked for her.”

“It’s pretty clear.”

“I know it is,” Oscar scoffed. “Thanks for Baku, by the way.”

Lando sighed. “Look, I’ve said a lot of shit this season that I didn’t mean, and I’m sorry I was a dick to the two of you. It wasn’t right and I do feel bad about it. So, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, but that doesn’t solve the fact that she’s being this mysterious weirdo and acting really into me and then really not,” Oscar whined. 

“She’s a very broken person-”

“You think?” Oscar rolled his eyes. “You’re not exactly giving me much hope right now.”

Lando laughed at his drunk state. “Just talk to her,” he offered. “She listens to you no matter what.”

Oscar stared at him, then nodded. “Good idea!” he announced (a little too loud as it drew the attention of a few people around the two of them), and looked at you. But you weren’t there. Oscar frowned again. 

“You’ll find her before the end of the night, I’m sure you will,” Lando clapped a hand on his shoulder and passed him a bottle of water to sober him up. “Good luck.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Time passed and while Oscar was sobering up, he was still very tipsy. You were much the same and ended up bumping into him in the hallways of the hotel. 

That’s how you ended up in his hotel room. 

His lips pressed against yours, and it was all tongue and teeth. You pulled at his shirt and trousers, he pulled off your dress once you’d let him, and he was met with a mouth-watering sight. He latched hsi lips to yours again, and slowly backed you onto his bed. You froze as your back hit the mattress. 

“Is everything okay?” he asked, pulling back. He looked a little bit silly with your lipstick smudged all over your face, but you somehow held in your laughter to shake your head. You sat up against his headboard, bringing your knees to your chest as you took a deep breath. 

“I’ve never… done this before,” you admitted. His eyes widened and he did everything in his power to stop his jaw from dropping. That couldn’t be true, could it? But you were so… so you. 

“That’s alright,” he smiled. “We can take it slow,” he offered. “Or not at all.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I want to do it.”

He smiled. “Alright then,” and reached a hand out to take yours. “We’ll take everything at your pace, yeah?”

You nodded. Somewhere in your drunk and lust-filled haze, you knew you and Oscar were crossing a line, but you didn’t exactly care at that moment in time. 

He pressed his lips to your again, you underneath him. “Is this alright?” he asked through kisses, his left hand gently making its way into your underwear. His voice was deep, deeper than you’d ever heard it. It was hot. He was hot. You nodded, pulling him down to kiss him more. You loved kissing him, so gentle, yet passionate. 

The second his fingers made contact with your clit, your brain short-circuited. You let out a moan into his mouth as he started with soft circles, gently touching you, testing the waters. If the way you were writhing beneath him was any indication, he was doing a good job. “Feels good?”

“Yes,” you whined, closing your eyes as he sped up his movements. “So good.”

“So wet baby,” he huffed. “So perfect for me.” 

You involuntarily whined at his words, grabbing his right arm to try and steady yourself.

“You’re doing great baby, all good,” he whispered. “You just focus on how you feel.”

You nodded, following his instructions, feeling everything he was doing to you. It was maddening, the soft circles, the way he spread you out for himself, his voice, everything. 

Slowly, he pushed a finger in and you groaned. “Osc.”

“I know baby, so tight, doing so well,” he smiled, pressing kisses to your neck. “Jesus Christ,” he rasped out. 

“I want you,” you whispered, getting restless. “Please Osc, I want you.”

He genuinely didn’t know how long he would last if you kept moaning the way you were, and how your nails were digging into his bicep. He’d never guessed he’d be into being scratched, but it felt good. Anything with you felt good. “Okay, I’m going to take these off now then, is that alright?” 

You nodded. “Yes.”

He stood at the edge of the bed, and slowly pulled your underwear off and his mouth actually watered as you pulled off your bra. Fuck. How was he going to get through this without cumming in his pants? He quickly pulled off his underwear and grabbed one of the complimentary condoms the hotel had in every room (he’d chuckled at it originally, mentally joking about how he’d never use it, how wrong he was). He caught a glimpse of your face, your jaw was dropped. 

“What?” he questioned. 

“You’re huge,” you admitted. He smirked. Ego = boosted.  

“I’m going to push in slow, alright?” he told you, and you nodded. “You sure you’re alright?”

“I am, are you?” you asked, taking his hand. 

He smiled. “Better than alright.” 

And he slowly pushed in. He was huge, filling you so much so you thought you could feel it in your lungs for a moment, after a moment to get used to the stretch, he started moving, and god, it was euphoria. Why had you never had sex before? Why had you never fucked Oscar before? He was so sweet, so perfect, so… him. 

“You doing alright?” he asked, listening to the way you whined for him. 

“Perfect,” you said, breathless, right before a particularly hard thrust pulled another moan out of you. His lips lowered to your neck as his thumb started gently rubbing over your clit, making you writhe beneath him. 

“Gotta stay a bit more still baby,” he grunted, placing his other hand on your stomach, holding you down. Your hands went to run up and down his back, moaning into his shoulder as the sensation built, hot and heavy in your stomach. “Let go whenever you’re ready, I want you to cum for me.” 

Fuck he was hot. Like, really hot. He changed the angle, somehow getting deeper than before, and you almost screamed. He chuckled, kissing you again. “Osc, I-I’m going to cum-”

“Cum for me, please baby, cum all over my cock,” he had a filthy mouth. As he picked up the pace, so did his grunts and small whines, they were music to your ears, making you tighten around him. “Come on baby, all over my cock.” 

And you did. You came with a violent shake and a loud moan, him coming just after you. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

You’d fallen asleep in his bed after he’d cleaned you up, and while waking up at 4am with a hangover was never fun, it did give you adequate time to sneak out of his hotel room and catastrophize the fact that you’d slept with your best friend / the only person you had who truly supported and (maybe) loved you. 

What the fuck had you done? 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

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[astraeus-tree]

Chapter 1

『For we're all that we need』

Disparities Between Our Souls

You were enjoying a peaceful lunch with your husband when you two were transported into your home-universe that you hadn't been in since 5 years ago

Disclaimer: This chapter focuses on Miguel and Reader, Batfam is only implied/mentioned. They will appear next chapter

Prologue <- Chapter 1

The halls of the Spider HQ were big, never failing to amaze you. The abundant amount of spidermen had surprised you when you first woke up here and to find out you were one yourself was even more of a shock.

Never in your life would you have expected to be transported into another world and become some sort of mutant, but you definitely wouldn’t change it. Especially now as you swing to your dear husband’s office.

Miguel O’hara, the leader and founder of the Spider HQ and also the one who chased after a 16 year-old boy. Yep, that was (un)fortunately your man. Thankfully that whole fiasco was over before you even arrived. From what you heard, he eventually ended up realising and coming to terms that canon events weren’t so canon and they could be altered, depending on the universe.

But enough of that. You were here today, swinging around the HQ to deliver your husband some food because you knew he would be busy taking care of the spiderverse—or as he likes to call it, ‘The Arachno-Humanoid Poly Multiverse’— to take care of himself.

With a plate of food in your hands, you swung up to the platform he was on.

“Darling, I have some food for you. Take a break and eat with me?” You asked him.

“Mi corazón, I’m busy, you know this.” He stated, almost groaning but in a teasing way.

“Miguel.” You stood your ground and watched him as he sighed, moving closer to you and pulling the screens closer. Fine, you could compromise with this, as long as he ate. “How have you been, dear? Need any help dealing with the anomalies?”

“No, not now at least. For now, they’ve mostly been in low numbers and the new recruits are usually able to deal with them themselves.”

“Alright then. Any leads as to why they’re still appearing though?”

“Still none. I would’ve hoped that they’d had disappeared when Morales was finally dealt with but they’re still ongoing. Lyla’s theorising something else it at play here and I fear she could be right.”

You stayed quiet, deep in thought. These anomalies were off, something about them had given you the wrong feeling, especially when you were on-field fighting them. You had mentioned it before to Miguel, but you both chalked it up to the fact that in technicality, you were also an anomaly, a similar but also vastly different case to Miles Morales.

“Do you think I’m related to the anomalies in some way?” You blurt out.

“As much as I hate to admit it, it’s most likely.” Your brows furrowed in concern. This further complicated the matter at hand. Being an anomaly yourself meant you were already connected to the others in some way, but if there was any chance that this relationship between you and the anomalies was any deeper, danger was most certainly waiting just around the corner. You two spent the next few moment in silence, slowly processing that possibility.

“Well enough of that. I came here so that you would finally eat, so take some.” You nudged a roll of pandesal towards him, alongside a cup of coffee. You had your own right pair next to you, standing on a makeshift table made of webs.

He sighed before muttering a small thank you under his breath and the smallest smile on his face. Well, you’d take what you could get. You both enjoyed your food and drink in silence as you sat on the ledge of the platform and Miguel continued working. It was a comfortable quiet, unspoken words of love were understood and picked up by the both of you. A small respite in both of your usually chaotic lives.

But as luck would have it, this peace did not last long. You didn’t even have time to finish your food when a portal opened up in front of the platform. You stood up quickly, stance in a fighting position, Miguel also suddenly on alert, his arm in front of you in a protective manner.

Portals were a normal thing for the both of you, an everyday use even. Yet, this was weird. No portal had ever opened up in this room. Most respected the privacy of their leader and always opened the portals outside of his office. That wasn’t even the most off-putting thing. This portal was different, the shapes and colours were all wrong, all different from the ones spawned from the gizmos on your wrists. Yet, it seemed familiar to you. Like you saw it once and then stored it at the back of your mind to forget about it. That couldn’t have been right though, any portals you’ve seen are the ones made by the watch.

You didn’t have time to worry about this though. Danger could be come out of that opening at any moment and you needed to be ready. But danger would not come to you. No. It would pull you into it instead. Quite literally when both you and your husband were tugged into the portal.

The journey through the portal was short, but most certainly not smooth. With being pulled in unexpectedly and the inside itself feeling like it was tossing you around, the landing was rough. It felt like you were picked up and were thrown away carelessly with indifference.

Miguel regained to his feet before you and held out a hand for you to help you stand up. As you oriented to your surroundings, you could feel your blood go cold. The sky was dark, vastly different from the midday sky that you were previously in. Even though it was night, stars didn’t light up the night sky, instead smog filled the skylines. Buildings stood tall, reaching for the sky but always too short. The streets were quiet, like a the silence of a forest when a predator is near. The rain dripping onto your head was the final confirmation.

You were in Gotham.

You were back in the city you grew up in. The city that raised you to be the person you are now. The city you had so many conflicting emotions about. You were not ready for this confrontation. In fact, you might never be.

So, like the coward you were, you quickly pulled your mask back to cover your face and turned to Miguel. He quickly takes the hint and puts his on as well.

“We have to get home. We can’t stay here.” You fiddle with your gizmo, attempting to open a portal back up to the HQ, but nothing. Miguel looked at your struggle and tried to get his own to work as well but it was a futile attempt. Nothing seemed wrong with the gizmos, except for the fact the no portal was opening up. You hoped that everything else was working fine.

Miguel had no knowledge of this strange world. All he knew was that you didn’t want either of you to stay here, and who was he to doubt your words? The situation was alright at first. Yes, it was suspicious that you two were dropped off here by some unknown entity, but there seemed to be no immediate danger and you two could easily open a portal back to the HQ.

At least he thought so.

But when both of your gizmos failed, he could feel worry start seeping in. No, this is fine, he could fix the gizmo. He didn’t have any tools though. What was even wrong with it? It had been working perfectly fine before you were dropped into this foreign universe.

He could see you pacing back and forth on the rooftop you two were on. Although he couldn’t see your face, he knew there was a frown etched onto our face.

“Mi corazón.” He called for you, but you were still in your trance. “Corazón.” He called out a little louder, and still nothing. He quickly gave up on words and walked over to you, softly grabbing your hand to pull you out.

“What?” You snap at him before regretting it almost instantly. You take a big breath and try to calm yourself down. “I’m sorry, I’m just stressed.”

“It’s alright mi vida. Can you tell me what’s got you so worried and where we are?” He spoke to you softly. You take another breath, mentally preparing yourself for the conversation you were about to have.

“We’re in my home universe.”

“Ah.” That was all he needed to know. He had heard enough of your ramblings about your old life to know why you were reacting this way.

“Why isn’t the gizmo working?” You ask, point-blank.

“I’m not sure. Maybe there’s something about this universe that’s stopping us from being able to communicate with the others. I attempted to get in contact with other spidermen but no response.” The Spider HQ must be a mess right now, with the sudden disappearance of their leader. He hoped you two could quickly make it back home or else you two would be coming back to chaos.

You opened your mouth to say something but were interrupted when you felt your spider senses tingling. You could see Miguel’s signature scowl form on his face, it seemed he could hear the danger you were sensing.

You both take a look around at your surroundings, and not too far off into the distance you see a Doc Ock terrorising the poor citizens of Gotham.

No, that wasn’t right. Your universe shouldn’t have a Doc Ock, hell you didn’t have any of the standard spidey villains. There was only one reason for this

An anomaly was in your universe.

Farther into the distance, you could see the bat sign light up the night sky. Shit. You needed to hurry before your family could get to this. You and Miguel looked at each other and nodded. A silent agreement to continue the conversation later and also take this anomaly down as soon as possible.

Taglist

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Another chapter done, yippee! I'm sorry this is focusing more on Reader and Miguel, but I needed to introduce some plot points and it ended up being too long for the batfam to make an appearance

As said in a previous post, I don't speak Spanish, so if those nicknames are cringe or something then please do tell me how to improve it and I will gladly change it

Anyways this has been another busy week. I finished my prepL, took my license photo, started watching the bayverse transformers movies and prepared for the start of the school year on Tues

Speaking of school, I have no idea if that will affect my upload schedule but it most likely won't until a few weeks in.

As per usual, you are free to point out any mistakes. I don't edit my work cuz my ADHD won't allow me to and I don't have a beta reader so I am bound to have some mistakes here and there

Fun fact, my titles (except for the story title) come from songs. The Prologue came from Never Love An Anchor by The Crane Wives and this chapter's came from Abandon Ship by Fin. I recommend you listen to them, they're so good!

Have a great day everyone <3

[defectivevillain]

& your terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

pairing: Deadpool & Wolverine & Reader

The reader's race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.

summary: “Deadpool and Wolverine, sitting in a minivan, K-I-S-S-I-N-G…” The guy sings to himself, his head swaying back and forth as he continues. “First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a dog in a… baby… carriage!” He taps his hands on the steering wheel restlessly. “Hm. That last part needs some work.” It doesn’t look like he’s noticed you sitting in the backseat.

Your Uber ride is... interesting, to say the least.

word count: 1.8k | ao3 version

warnings: canon-typical suggestive humor/blood & violence

author's note: This is probably the dumbest thing I've ever written. This fic is complete and utter crack. The logistics of this don’t really make sense either. I haven’t watched the second Deadpool movie, because I don’t have it in me to take on another pair of disaster gays. But! I saw the car fight scene and thought of this. (For example, I didn't realize until I started tagging this fic on AO3 that the Honda Odyssey belongs to Nicepool.... which clashes with this story. So... yeah. Canon doesn't exist to me.)

Also, I couldn't find a gif of them in the car that didn't just look like something right out of gay porn 💀 lmfaooo. anyways, hope you enjoy this shit show!

Uber is always a bit of a roll of the dice. Sometimes, the driver is great and the ride is painless. Other times, it’s awkward or uncomfortable—and the drive seems to take twice as long, if only because you’re relegated to staring out the window and regretting every decision you’ve ever made. You’ve been using Uber less these days, instead opting for a longer train ride or unpleasant bus ride. 

Today, though, you’re exhausted. Your head is pounding; work was an absolute nightmare, per usual; and you just want nothing more than to go home. When you see the marked van of the Uber driver pulling up, you’re quick to slide into the backseat. 

The driver—Joseph, the app says—can’t even get a word out before the window next to him is suddenly punched. You stare in fearful disbelief as a guy wearing red spandex promptly tugs him out of the car and kicks him into the nearby bushes. Then he sits in the driver’s seat, beginning to hum to himself casually. 

“Deadpool and Wolverine, sitting in a minivan, K-I-S-S-I-N-G…” He sings to himself, his head swaying back and forth as he continues. “First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a dog in a… baby… carriage!” He taps his hands on the steering wheel restlessly. “Hm. That last part needs some work.” It doesn’t look like he’s noticed you. 

“Do you ever stop fucking talking?” A new voice says. To your horror, there’s another guy now—he nearly rips the passenger side door off as he takes a seat, then slamming it behind him. You look at both of them, taking in their spandex costumes and assorted weapons. The yellow-suited man is Wolverine; and the red-suited man must be Deadpool—judging from that childish song he just sang. You think you’ve heard of them, maybe? They don’t seem to be particularly villainous guys, but you don’t know them well enough to make that assumption safely. 

They continue bickering for several minutes, not even bothering to turn around and glance at their occupied backseat. Eventually your annoyance trumps your anxiety and you address them. “Can you stop flirting and just drive?” You blurt out.

They both flinch, whipping around in their seats as if just noticing you. 

“Oh, hello!” Deadpool chirps brightly, sending you a friendly wave that feels very misplaced for the current situation. “How long have you been there?” He tilts his head curiously. 

“The entire time.” You answer. 

“Wonderful.” Wolverine says dryly. 

“It’s not my fault you lack situational awareness.” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. The guy’s eyebrow shoots up his face in clear irritation. You try to pretend your hands aren’t shaking. This is completely normal. Just an ordinary commute after work. “Anyways, can you just drive already?” You add on impatiently. It’s been a long day and this really isn’t helping it go any faster. You fidget uncomfortably. 

“Drive?” Deadpool asks, seeming confused. 

“We’re in a car, in case you didn’t notice.” You say, your headache speaking for you. These two have been talking the entire time you’ve been sitting here. “And you threw my Uber driver into the bushes over there, so….” You trail off. 

“Then you can take a trip to the bushes next.” Wolverine says gruffly. 

“No, that makes you the Uber driver, buddy.” You assert, turning to the red-suited guy sitting in the driver’s seat. He seems to be a lot more amicable—and easily persuaded—than the grouch. “So buckle up and take your eyes off your friend for two seconds to take me where I need to go.” And wow, you must be even more tired than you thought. 

“Do you have any idea who you’re speaking to?” Wolverine practically orders. 

“Not really.” You admit. Nothing about this interaction makes sense to you. It may as well be a dream sequence, because your filter is completely gone. “The couple's costumes are cute, though.” 

“We’re not a couple.” He immediately corrects you. 

Deadpool visibly droops at his side. “Come on, you’re breaking my heart.” He says somewhat sarcastically. Immediately, the two guys seem to be on the verge of arguing again. 

You sigh and try to summon some patience. Maybe you can appeal to their cold, dead hearts by being nice. “Hey, can you just drive me to where I need to go, please?” You ask, breaking through their taunting once more. “I won’t tell anyone about whatever this is. I just want to go home.” 

You must look particularly pathetic, because after only a few moments of silence, they both seem to cave in. “Where are you going.” Wolverine almost growls, managing to make the question sound like a demand. You answer with the address and he sighs, plugging it into the GPS system next to the front console. 

Deadpool begins driving. No one is talking, as the vigilante focuses on the road; you fight off your growing fear, and Wolverine stews in irritation. They’re talking about something in hushed whispers, but you’re too exhausted and overwhelmed to eavesdrop. It’s only when they begin to raise their voices that you realize you may not reach your destination just yet. They’re currently engaged in a worrying stare-off, with Deadpool not even looking at the road ahead.

…You’re definitely going to die. 

When the car screeches to a stop moments later, you’re not very surprised. Deadpool seems to be resisting the urge to put his knife through Wolverine. You take one look at the two of them and decide you don’t want to be a part of their homoerotic fist fight. So you open your door—which is unlocked, by some miracle—and head off to sit nearby. You find a decently-sized tree and sit behind it, using it as a makeshift barrier from the violence occurring behind you. For a while, you can only hear pained hisses and curse words. Just when you start to think the fight is over, the glass of the windshield shatters and a blur of motion passes before your eyes. Wolverine catches himself with a hand on the ground, crouching and slowly looking up only to meet your eyes. He then stares at you in disbelief, clearly surprised to see you. You can’t find any words to say. 

Your presence must distract him, because soon Deadpool is running at him with a gleeful cry. “Thanks, baby!” The mercenary says to you, before throwing a punch at the superhero. They start trading hits and you glance at the car forlornly. 

Truthfully, you want nothing more than to steal the van and drive away, but Deadpool and Wolverine are still too close. While they’re distracted, though, you manage to sneak back to the car—swiping the keys and the knife that was neglected in the passenger seat. Then they’re throwing each other at the car again, and you’re back at a distance. 

It’s extremely amusing to see the two guys finally collapse in the car after their unnecessarily long fight… only to realize they don’t have the keys. They seem moments away from brawling it out again, when you snap. Today has really been the worst day you’ve had in a long time. And it was looking to be that way, even before all of this nonsense. 

You move mechanically, until you’re standing before the broken window on the driver’s side. “Get up.” You say, swallowing past the burning feeling in your throat. The urge to cry is growing stronger with every passing second. Deadpool just looks up at you. In a burst of exhausted anger, you point the knife at him. You don’t have any plans to use it, of course. But you get the sense he only really listens to violence. 

There’s silence for a long time. “Are we getting carjacked?” Deadpool eventually asks. 

“No,” you sigh. “Just get in the back. Please. It’s been a long day; I just want to go home. You can fool around and do your stupid shit after.” Your voice breaks somewhere along the way and you think your hand is shaking ever so slightly as you hold the knife. 

Deadpool and Wolverine turn towards each other, some sort of silent understanding passing between them. Then the vigilante is gently holding the blade  and taking it from your hand. He heads to the backseat, before Wolverine lets out a groan and does the same. 

You bite the inside of your cheek and sit down, starting the car. Fortunately, it seems the car is still functioning—despite the bloodbath it just saw. These two seem a little hardheaded, but not stupid enough to risk getting stranded without a working car. 

You try to hide your shaking hands as you turn your attention to the GPS system, before putting the car in reverse and then proceeding onto the nearby street. Luckily, you’re not far from where you wanted to be—with a ten minute drive, you’ll arrive. 

Those ten minutes feel like ten hours. The guys are completely silent in the back, evidently tired from their fight. The van looks… well, rather bad. There are bloodstains everywhere and you think the driver’s seat must’ve been knifed, because it feels weirdly uncomfortable. But finally, finally, you arrive and pull into the parking lot. 

You take a slow breath, pretending not to feel as scared and restless as you are. Your survival instincts kick in and you quickly turn the car off. From there, you almost robotically exit the car. The sheer absurdity of the situation is starting to catch up to you. And despite the fact that neither of the men paid you much attention, you can’t shake off the knowledge that they could kill you in the blink of an eye. 

“You’ll give us a five-star rating, right?” Deadpool asks through the space where the back seat window used to be. His remark unknowingly breaks through your quickly spiraling thoughts.

You don’t bother entertaining his question. “Have fun on your little adventure.” You manage to say instead. The remark is intended to be somewhat sarcastic, but it comes out quiet and too sincere. 

“It’s an average size for an adventure, thank you very much.” Deadpool jokes. Then he almost seems to straighten up. His mask covers his entire face, but his voice sounds sympathetic. “Get some rest, pal. You look like hell.” 

He seems concerned. It’s a strange thought. You stand there for a bit longer than you should, because you’re so surprised by the remark. Then you blink and break out of your thoughts, closing the door behind you and walking away. The unmistakable screeching sound of tires on pavement informs you of their departure. 

It takes you several hours to convince yourself you’re safe and sound. And when your head finally hits your pillow that night, you’re graced with one humorous thought: you’ve had weirder Uber drivers, ironically. 

©2025, @defectivevillain | @defectivehero, All Rights Reserved. Reblogs are greatly appreciated—just don't steal or share outside of Tumblr, please.

Deadpool, turning towards you: So I guess this means I'm your Uber driver now...? Wolverine, frowning: ...I've never been to oovoo javer.

What the hell am I doing with my life. I haven't even watched this movie god dammit. And I have yet ANOTHER fic draft with these two... (－‸ლ)

I like how I updated my blog's theme (and it's beautiful and I don't care what anyone says), only to post this absolute dumpster fire of a fic immediately after. Like, how does anyone take me seriously...

anyways, thanks for reading! <3

check out my other works, sorted by fandom.

general taglist: @its-ares @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @kingkoku @the-ultimate-librarian @gayaristocrat @always-lying-to-you @moss4ev3r

friendly reminder that i don't give permission for my writing to be shared to other sites, stolen, copied, translated, or used in any way. thanks!

[chris-prank]

What does Jacce cook the best and what are his favorite foods?

Jacce is really good at making homemade soup and beef stew, since they are one the specialties he makes and serves at the coffee shop. He puts a lot of legumes and vegetables in his cooking in general, but he would adapt it if his darling is a picky eater.

Like I said in a previous post, his favorite meal of all time is Thai Chicken coconut Curry, but apart from that he really likes chicken pot pie and mozzarella sticks.

On the more sugary side, Jacce loves Haribo’s goldbears and grapes dipped in chocolate!

[anonymousewrites]

Lavender for Royalty; Sage for Wisdom (Book 1) Chapter Fourteen

Kyoya Ootori x Reader

Chapter Fourteen: Yellow Hyacinth for Jealousy

Summary: Jealousy is an ugly thing.

            “(Y/N), get up!”

            (Y/N) jerked up as Tamaki’s voice pulled them from sleep. They stared blearily at his face. “This is a nightmare. No way are you waking me up two days in a row.”

            “Don’t be silly!” said Tamaki cheerfully. He grabbed (Y/N)’s arm and pulled them out of bed. “Come on, we need to go to Misuzu’s pensione to protect Haruhi from the twins!”

            “I want to sleep,” groaned (Y/N). “It’s vacation.” And I had plans…

            “Don’t waste your time sleeping!” Tamaki pulled (Y/N) towards Kyoya’s room. “Come on, let’s get Kyoya!”

            “How are you in his house?” sighed (Y/N).

            “His people know me!” said Tamaki brightly.

            “Of course…” (Y/N) groaned. “I hope he yells at you for waking him up.” Kyoya was not a morning person.

            “I’m not going to wake him up, you are,” said Tamaki.

            “…No.” (Y/N) didn’t want Kyoya to be grouchy at them at six in the morning.

            “Come on, he won’t be mean to you,” said Tamaki, pushing open the door and shoving (Y/N) towards the bed. “Wake him up!”

            “No,” said (Y/N), turning around to leave, but Tamaki grabbed them and dragged them towards Kyoya.

            “Hey, Kyoya, wake up! It’s time to go to the pensione so I can liberate Haruhi from those twins!” said Tamaki. He spoke, but he pushed (Y/N) in front of him so their face would be the first one Kyoya saw when he awoke.

            Sure enough, Kyoya’s eyes opened and were instantly a glare. “Don’t use (Y/N) to drag me into your mess, you prat.”

            Tamaki yelped in fear at the evil eye Kyoya was giving him. “But Kyoya—”

            “If you want to go, go by yourself,” huffed Kyoya, pulling the blankets around himself.

            “Yeah, go by yourself, Tamaki.” (Y/N) pushed Tamaki away and collapsed on Kyoya’s bed, exhausted. “We’re too tired.” Their eyes shut almost instantly.

            “But you guys—”

            “Get out.” Kyoya glared, and Tamaki squeaked before running away. Satisfied, Kyoya rolled over tiredly. (Y/N) was already knocked out, lying haphazardly next to him on the bed. Kyoya’s exhausted brain short-circuited, then a small smile appeared on his face. He threw his blankets over (Y/N) and looked at their face. Nice… This was where (Y/N) should be. With him. Kyoya closed his eyes and fell back into a peaceful sleep.

            Tamaki peeked his head back in and took a photograph, grinning before escaping the room again.

l

            (Y/N) yawned as they finally awoke. They blinked and stretched. They paused. This was not their room.

            Oh. Right.

            Tamaki had woken them up and dragged them to Kyoya’s room. Kyoya’s room. Eye’s widening, (Y/N) rolled over, and, sure enough, they found Kyoya’s face inches from their own—

            (Y/N)’s face exploded with warmth, and they sat up. Beside them, Kyoya’s eyes opened. Slowly at first, but the moment he registered their presence, he also sat up rather quickly.

            “Uh, good morning, Kyoya,” said (Y/N), a bit (a lot) embarrassed.

            “Good morning, (Y/N),” said Kyoya, keeping his composure much more than them. However, within, he was also feeling the embarrassment of the predicament.

            Who could react calmly to their crush being in their bed? They were both aware of how nice it was to wake up together, but that in itself was another embarrassing thought.

            “Sorry that I’m here. I was so tired, and Tamaki was dragging me around—”

            “Don’t apologize for that idiot,” said Kyoya. “He shouldn’t have tried to wake us up. And I would have removed you if I wasn’t comfortable.” He paused. “Not that I don’t understand that this isn’t…strange, but you aren’t a stranger, so—”

            (Y/N) chuckled, and Kyoya quieted. “I never thought I’d hear you stumble over your words.” They smiled. “But as long as neither of us was uncomfortable, I suppose it’s fine. Right?”

            “Right,” said Kyoya.

            Neither said out loud that they had been more than comfortable with one another, that waking up next to one another was flustering, yes, but also natural.

            (Y/N) yawned and stretched. Kyoya kept his eyes on their face (he didn’t look at their midriff as their old t-shirt rode up, not at all).

            “I’m going to go and get ready for the day,” said (Y/N). “It’s already nine. Tamaki has probably already gotten into trouble.”

            “He can get into trouble on his own,” said Kyoya, putting on his glasses. “We have plans.” He looked at (Y/N). “We can stop in town and go for a walk before going to the pensione for brunch.”

            (Y/N) smiled. “It sounds like a plan.”

l

            “I love towns like these,” said (Y/N), smiling as they walked with Kyoya. Today, they wore a long brown skirt, a white blouse, and a green vest overtop with some self-embroidered flowers on it. “Small enough to walk around, not too touristy, made by locals for themselves.”

            “Quaint,” said Kyoya.

            (Y/N) looked at the shop windows. They smiled at some of the clothes. “I mean, the time people put into making these clothes is so cool. They put their heart into it.” They were staring a denim jumpsuit—very vintage and ABBA feeling to it—and some of the other handmade skirts and pants.

            Kyoya looked. They were not designer, not the brands his family custom-ordered, but…he knew they would look fantastic on (Y/N).

            “You should try them on,” said Kyoya.

            “I don’t have the money to spend on them,” said (Y/N).

            “I have heard trying on clothes is enjoyable in itself,” said Kyoya.

            “Do we have time?” said (Y/N).

            “Yes,” said Kyoya.

            (Y/N) smiled, glad that he agreed. They didn’t want to leave their time alone with him so soon. So, they headed into the shop with Kyoya and happily tried on the clothes they had found so cute.

            “How do I look?” said (Y/N). They knew Kyoya wasn’t going to give his opinion, that wasn’t his thing, but they were going to ask anyways—

            “I like it,” said Kyoya, looking at them. He thought they always looked nice, but when they dressed as they preferred, they were incredibly attractive.

            “Really?” (Y/N) was surprised to get a response.

            “Do I lie?” said Kyoya.

            “You flatter people to get your way,” said (Y/N).

            “What reason would I have to manipulate you?” said Kyoya. “You’re my friend. And you look good.”

            (Y/N)’s cheeks warmed, and their heartbeat echoed in their head. “Thank you, Kyoya.” Nervously, they stepped back into the changing room to put their clothes back on.

            Kyoya smiled to himself and made a note of the size of the clothes (Y/N) had picked out. Before they emerged, he paid. Perhaps it was out of character for him—it definitely was—but he wanted (Y/N) to have the clothes they liked. (And he wanted to see them in something he got for them. So, not entirely selfless.)

            “Ready to head to brunch? Tamaki has tried to call me three times,” said (Y/N), emerging as they buttoned their vest.

            Kyoya nodded. And, as they headed out of the store, (Y/N) failed to notice Kyoya’s bodyguards exciting with a bag and putting it in the back of the car.

l

            “Why is Tamaki tearing up a book in the corner?” said (Y/N), frowning. They had arrived at the pensione finally, and already, Tamaki was suffering, apparently.

            “Haruhi’s classmate from middle school showed up, and his ‘summer break’ ideas went up in smoke,” said Hikaru.

            Kaoru was staring at the boy, frowning. “Arai sure is taking Haruhi’s attention.”

            “If they’re friends, then it makes sense that they want to catch up,” said (Y/N).

            “You can’t call him a friend if they haven’t contacted each other since they graduated,” said Hikaru. “They’re nothing but ex-classmates.”

            “A happy reunion!” said Honey, who had also finally arrived well-rested.

            “So you all belong to the same club?” asked Arai. “What kind of club?”

            “…Host Club,” said Haruhi.

            “Toast? A toast-master’s club?” said Arai, mishearing.

            “Hey, Haruhi, don’t you have to work? Misuzu, she’s goofing off,” said Hikaru.

            “Haruhi, will you refill my drink?” said Kaoru.

            “Will you be quiet? Misuzu gave me a break, okay,” said Haruhi, rolling her eyes. She looked at where Tamaki was pouting. “Tamaki, will you quit it with the ripping? You’re just making more trash.”

            “It’s not trash. It’s for a hamster house,” said Tamaki.

            “You don’t have a hamster, senpai,” said Haruhi.

            “Not a senpai. Just an ‘acquaintance,’ ” pouted Tamaki.

            Arai smothered a laugh. “These Ouran guys are really funny. That’s a surprise…for such an elite school, I figured they’d be otherworldly beings.”

            “They’re definitely form a parallel universe,” said Haruhi.

            “Actually, I was worried about you going to that school,” said Arai softly. “I thought you’d have a hard time. I’m glad you’re okay. It makes me feel better.” He paused and suddenly became flustered. “Oh! I’m not the only one who was worried. Others were saying the same.”

            “What the heck? A refreshing and pure attitude? Is that his angle?” Hikaru frowned. “Doesn’t he know the refreshing tournament has already ended?”

            “ ‘Bright but shy, rather normal, and is on the basketball or soccer team.’ ” Kaoru took a sip of his drink. “In real life, he may be a hit to the girls, but in manga he’d only be the archetypal sidekick. That’s the sum of it.”

            Arai smiled. “You’re right! I’m on the soccer team. How’d you know?”

            Kaoru and Hikaru glowered. He was a nice guy, too.

            “Are you two trying to pick a fight?” said (Y/N), raising a brow.

            The twins shrugged “innocently.” “Oh, nothing.”

            “Still…” Hikaru huffed. “He’s clearly attracted to Haruhi. It’s so obvious that it’s annoying.”

            “Hikaru! You’re the one who’s being annoying,” said Haruhi.

            “It’s okay, Haruhi. It’s true I was attracted to you, but you rejected me a year ago.” Arai smiled.

            The hosts all stared. (Y/N) looked at Haruhi and tilted their head.

            “Why are you shocked, too?” said (Y/N).

            “I don’t think she realized,” said Arai, chuckling. “I asked her out, but she just assumed we were leaving the school itself…”

            Haruhi’s eyes widened, and (Y/N) covered a laugh.

            “Haruhi, you broke a poor boy’s fragile heart with your complete insensitivity,” said Kyoya. “I hope it wasn’t intentional.”

            “I didn’t mean to…” Poor Haruhi was reevaluating a lot of interactions now. “I’m so sorry.” She bowed to Arai.

            “It’s okay.” Arai smiled. “I got over it. The fact that you didn’t get it meant you weren’t interested in me. That’s all. But…you have a quiet and unfathomable quality. And the way you look straight into the eyes of the person you’re talking to…I really liked that about you.”

            Tamaki’s eyes widened. “You’re so sincere about Haruhi��” He grabbed Arai’s hands and smiled. “Your bravery will never be forgotten! Now tell me all about Haruhi in middle school.”

            An irk mark appeared on Haruhi’s head. “Don’t bother my friends, senpai.”

            Arai smiled and chuckled. “It’s alright.”

            “Arai?”

            Arai looked over to the entrance of the pensione and smiled. “Oh, Tooru.”

            “Is that Haruhi?” Tooru, a taller boy with the same brown hair as Arai, smiled. “It’s been so long.”

            “Another admirer—”

            “Ew, no, senpai,” said Haruhi, interrupted Tamaki. “This is Arai’s older brother.”

            “Nice to meet you,” said Tooru, smiling.

            “These are all Haruhi’s friends from Ouran,” said Arai.

            “Ouran? Wow. You sure you want to spend your summer here in this small town?” Tooru smiled, clearly not insulting the town but joking around.

            “It’s very nice here,” said (Y/N). They sweat-dropped. “And some of us don’t have money for a large vacation…”

            “Oh, are you a scholarship student like Haruhi?” said Tooru.

            “Yes,” said (Y/N). “I’m (Y/N).”

            “That’s really impressive. You must be really smart,” said Tooru.

            “Thank you,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            Kyoya narrowed his eyes as Tooru’s smile grew wider upon seeing (Y/N)’s happy expression. The boy’s eyes had not left (Y/N) since he saw them, and Kyoya felt something frustrating curling in his stomach. This wasn’t (Y/N) speaking to guests, giving them a performance. This was the real (Y/N) who was attracting someone’s attention. Kyoya despised it.

            “Do you mind if I sit down?” said Tooru.

            “I thought you were looking for me for something,” said Arai.

            “Yeah, I just needed to let you know our deliveries are done for the day, so we’re free,” said Tooru, smiling. “We get to relax for a bit.” He sat down, and Kyoya narrowed his eyes as he took a seat next to (Y/N).

            “That’s good! I wanted to catch up with Haruhi a bit,” said Arai.

            “I want to hear stories about Haruhi from middle school!” said Tamaki.

            “I don’t get it, why would old stories entertain you?” said Hikaru. He and Kaoru hadn’t moved closer to join the group yet. “Besides, can’t that guy tell that we don’t care about him at all? Haruhi’s heart has no room for him—”

            Haruhi slapped Hikaru, and Hikaru’s eyes widened. Haruhi glared at him fiercely.

            “Hikaru, that’s not something for you to decide!” said Haruhi. “I won’t let you insult my friend any further.”

            “Come on,” said Hikaru. “Who cares about other people? Look, we’re the ones who are you friends!” Furious, he turned away and walked out.

            “I’ll go and talk to him,” said Kaoru, going after his brother.

            “…Maybe I should leave,” said Arai.

            Haruhi looked at him. “Don’t let Hikaru scare you off. He’s being an idiot.”

            Arai smiled. “Maybe. But Tooru and I should still go and check if there are any other last-minute deliveries to help out with.”

            “Okay,” said Haruhi, nodding and walking towards the exit with him. “It was nice to catch up.”

            “Yeah,” said Arai. “Will you apologize to Hikaru for me?”

            “No need.” “Hikaru” stepped out from the doorway. “It was my fault. I’m sorry.”

            “It’s okay,” said Arai, smiling. “Bye!”

            “(Y/N)?” said Tooru.

            “Yes?” they said.

            “I know we just met, but there’s a market going on tomorrow, and if you wanted someone to show you around the village, I’d love to,” said Tooru nervously.

            (Y/N) blinked in surprise. “Oh.” They were flattered, but they weren’t interested. They opened their mouth to politely reject him—

            “I’m afraid that (Y/N) is too busy to date,” said Kyoya curtly before (Y/N) could speak. “With their job in our club, dating is discouraged, and they hardly have the time to go back and forth from Ouran Academy to see…you.” His cold gaze sent a shiver down Tooru’s back.

            “O-Oh, right…” Tooru trailed off uncomfortably.

            “Kyoya,” hissed (Y/N), glaring at him. Quickly, they turned back to Tooru and smiled apologetically. “Sorry about him. He’s being rude.” Kyoya bristled. “But I am not interested in anything like that at the moment. You’re very nice, though.”

            Tooru smiled, glad to hear (Y/N)’s words. “It’s no problem. Thank you for being honest.” With that, he got on his bike and headed away.

            (Y/N) turned on Kyoya. “What was that, Kyoya?”

            “You’re a host. Hosts can’t date,” said Kyoya coldly.

            “You made that rule up now,” hissed (Y/N). “And you were rude for no reason.”

            “No reason?” Kyoya’s gaze narrowed. “He was flirting with you, and he’d probably try to ask you out again if he didn’t know you weren’t available.”

            “I am available, Kyoya,” said (Y/N), putting their hands on their hips. “And just because I’m in the Host Club doesn’t mean you get to boss me around. Unbelievable.” They turned and walked away.

            Kyoya gritted his teeth, and when Tamaki looked at him nervously, Kyoya glared and walked the opposite direction.

            “…Oh dear,” said the hosts. (Y/N) and Kyoya fighting? Not good.

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[clourey]

“satoru,”

ouch.

“i prefer the way you said my name yesterday, you know!” satoru feigns hurt, clutching his chest dramatically— eliciting an eye-roll from you.

how did you say his name yesterday? you can’t recall, it wasn’t important. satoru, conversely, remembers in perfect detail the enunciation that caused his heart to throb.

each syllable of his name, spoken so tenderly, and paired with a timbre that conveyed feelings of worry.

“whatever— how’s your bruise?”

satoru’s eyes momentarily flickered with mischief, seizing his opportunity, “you mean the bruise you left on my heart?”

“you.. dumbass.” you irked, heaving a heavy sigh, whilst satoru’s form began to stutter with his familiar mirth.

“you’re incredibly annoying,” you remark to no avail, as the tittering evolved into full-blown husky laughter.

the sounds reverberated through your chest like the gentle buzzing of a bee, warm and fuzzy, unlike any other, for reasons you couldn’t quite tell. it remedied the exasperation and utter frustration that often came with being satoru’s friend— he created a problem and sold the solution, what an asshole.

“satoru, please.”

it isn’t until you cross your arms that satoru decides he’s had enough amusement, “gee, sorry! you just know my jokes are funny.”

“the characteristics of a funny joke is that other people also find it funny, yet here we are.” you flick his forehead, earning yourself a stagy whine. one that could land another bruise on his face, honestly.

alas, you were too deeply absorbed in concern to physically hurt him, so you instead settle for an injury to his sentiments, and his passion for horrible jokes (hopefully).

“come on, look up.” you instruct, and it would be a lie to say that you didn’t shudder at the way satoru complied so naturally— like it was instinct. to add fuel to the fire, his hands snaked around your waist, pulling you close enough that you were forced to prop your knee between his legs. if you didn’t want to lose balance and topple onto the couch (and potentially satoru too), that is.

you carefully peel the bandage off of his skin, your thumb grazing over the purple bruise that adorned his cheek. he closes his eyes, your touch almost lulling him to sleep.

yes, adorned. this man never fails to look beautiful, as much as you despised the fact.

“are the hands necessary?” you mumble to yourself, as you apply ointment on satoru’s face. unfortunately for you, your voice is never gone unheard by satoru, no matter how hard you try.

he replies with a hum, startling you.

“i was serious when i said you bruised my heart, by the way.”

his words cause you to nearly tumble, exacerbating your struggle to stretch your body to reach the fresh gauze that laid on the other end of the couch.

he’s holding me so tight, and that he was. his hands had planted themselves on your hips, rendering you unable to shift positions.

“and—” you pant, relieved when your digits finally grasp the gauze, “when did that happen?”

he reopens his eyes, “a month ago. the party at shoko’s.”

your hands come to an abrupt halt, recounting the events satoru was referring too. his pupils, meanwhile, trace intangible lines across every feature on your visage, as if he wouldn’t ever see them again.

“you were drunk, satoru.” you resume dressing his injury, “we all know you actively avoid drinking because you say dumb shit you don’t even mean when you’re drunk, among other reasons.”

“i’ll have you know i did mean it when i said i hate kids.”

your brows raise in amusement, “and that’s why you intentionally let yuji land a hit on you?”

“i only wanted to gauge yuji’s improvements, plus you were so worried about me. i mean come on, you’re here right now, so win-win, yeah?”

you chuckle— risible truly is an adjective perfectly fit for satoru.

“whatever floats your boat, and..” you helplessly try to swat his arms off you (were you even trying? you don’t know, perhaps you wanted to stay with him longer), “let me go now, you’re all patched up.”

“nuh-uh! i’m not done talking.”

you know you’ve lost the fight before it even started. satoru would let you go if that’s what your body told him, but of course he noticed the subtle way in which your frame leaned into his touch. nothing gets past this him, really.

“make it quick—”

“i meant it when i said i like you,” his grip around you loosens, “that quick enough for you?”

“too..” you’re scared you’ll stutter, “too quick, i think.”

it was, once again, his turn to laugh. although there was nothing happy about it, nothing that warm and fuzzy.

satoru can read your expressions. what he perceives doesn’t please him, but loss was a constant in his life, so why would he expect anything else? stupid man.

“i’m.. not sure what to say.”

strange, your sentence felt empty. you intended to say his name; why didn’t you? were you hesitating?

or, perhaps satoru stole the alphabets of his name from your mouth and swallowed it, so he wouldn’t have to hear it from you— but he’s choking on the letters now. the back of his throat hurts, it stings and wells tears on his waterline.

for a fleeting moment, he wants so badly to take back the revelation he had made to you. yet he fails to, because the truth will always be there for you to realise. he knows it.

his words are just one of the many mediums through which he has expressed his affection for you. flowers, touches, time— you name it, and he’s given it all.

“i’ve gotta go.” you hurry, without knowing why.

and satoru? he doesn’t dare to look at you. instead, his gaze settles on the remaining gauze.

he wonders, could it be of any use to a heart, that is bruised and beaten?

[rabotimagines]

"Bug snack" GN BOT Reader + The insecticons

Summary: little encounter with the insecticons.

Warnings: N/A

G1 characters: The insecticons!

Genre/Theme: Platonic scenario

Notes: Autobot GN Reader! You know how to bake energon goodies.

Pronouns: You, your, yours.

Well, you were fragged to put it lightly. Back up against the wall. Blaster in your servo, and completely outmeched by the insecticons. And completely alone. All the other autobots were divided across the battlefield. And slag it all. You might as well try bargaining for your continued function. The insecticons showed up late after the Autobots intercepted the Decepticons' attack plans. So you could only assume they were working for their own interests like near always. So you raised your arm upwards, blaster pointed away from any of them and squared your pauldron struts. "Oi Insecticons! Got a proposition for you!"

"Silence! Silence- Autoscum will be quiet! Quiet!" Shrapnel crawled forward the electricity on his metal horns crackling with purpose.

You only raised your empty servo, not looking forward to being zapped. "Even if it's a meal?!"

That makes him pause, and then the other two immediately scuttered closer at the prospect of food. "What meal?! We're already here at this battle plant, which is prime for our feast! What dribble could a measly autobot offer to the insecticons?!" Bombshell squared his little beetle legs, and his horn pointed toward you with intent. But he didn't ram into you or blast a shell at you, so you knew you had them interested at least.

You smirked. "Oh, I was going to offer my bag of energon gummies. A delicacy, and there's not many left after Cybertron got overrun by the war. But I have a small bag I'd be willing to part with- if you guys cause some trouble for the Decepticons this fight."

"Gummies!? What foolery is an energon gummie?" Kickback spat, his antenna twitching in the air.

"It's a type of energon goodie! They taste so good they're addictive!" You tried to sell them on the idea as well as you could. But considering they had zero frame of reference for energon goodies, you hoped the prospect would be enough for the little gluttons.

"Hm -" They stopped for a moment and suddenly formed a tight circle around one another. They were still in their alt modes, and it only forced you to press your frame against the wall to not get pushed by them. You heard heated whispers until they suddenly broke and were now facing you once more. "Deal! Give us the gummies! Gummies-!" Shrapnel marched forward, and you hastily pulled the small mesh baggie out of your subspace. Shrapnel didn't grab it or give you a chance to hand it over because he zapped your servos with a hot jolt of his outlier ability.

You hissed and dropped the bag, which tore to shreds from the power output. The gummies fell scattered across the ground, and you almost leaned down to pick them up. But instead, you watched as the insecticons just started to eat them right off the ground.

As soon as they each got one in their little alt mode mandible mouths, they all froze. Then all pit broke loose, and they started scampering over one another to eat as many gummies as possible. You had to dodge a jab of Bombshells horn being jutted in your direction and one of kickbacks legs (that cracked the wall) while cursing under your vents.

"Where?!" Kickback uttered, still digging under his fellow insecticons to look for any possible missed energon gummy. They'd cleaned the ground of them in nanoklicks.

"Um- so we're good?" At your question, they seemed to settle on the fact they ate all possible dropped gummies and straightened themselves out. You arched an optic ridge as all three stared you down again.

"Hm, the meal was... satisfying. Insecticons we can cause problems for the decepticlowns for this battle." Bombshell apparently settled on.

"Yes! yes! Gummies are tasty! Tasty!" Shrapnel hissed.

"Gummies will be on the menu look out from now on." Kickback announced like it was anything close to an achievement for the mechs that devoured almost anything and everything in sight.

With that, they flew up and bounced over the wall you'd been pinned back against. You heard the sound of Starscream screaming loudly and the charge of Shrapnels outlier ability firing off. You finally slacked and pulled away from the wall. At least you hadn't bothered to make those energon goodies into star shapes or anything cute like that. Especially when they got eaten so... haphazardly.

Primus forbid those bugs learn you made those energon goodies yourself. You'd never know peace again with those gluttonous menaces around...

[astro-stars]

Hay! Your work is histarical btw

Could you do some fluff type stuff with malleus (and other housewardens if you have time,minus Jamil bc I hate him) where he is comforting them after a panic attack brought on by all the crap they have been through after being trapped here (like the overblots and the murder attempts and being kidnapped and doing all Crowley’s work and… I think you get the point 💀)

If you don’t want to or you don’t have time no worries 🫶✨

@ahhhhhhhghghhhgg ty<3 i did my best but if this isnt how you envisioned it i can retry!! :)

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle notices immediately when Yuu starts to spiral, their breaths coming quicker and their hands trembling. He gently guides them to sit in the shade of the rose garden, away from the noise of the dorm.

“Breathe with me,” he says softly, demonstrating slow, measured breaths. His usually stern tone is laced with concern, and he kneels in front of them to meet their gaze. “You don’t have to carry all this alone. It’s unfair.”

Once Yuu calms down, he offers them a cup of chamomile tea and quietly promises to speak with Crowley about easing their workload. Though his influence is limited, he’ll use whatever authority he has to lighten their burden.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona finds Yuu curled up in a corner of the botanical garden, shaking and hyperventilating. Without a word, he sits beside them and drapes his jacket over their shoulders. “It’s okay, herbivore. You’re safe now.”

He lets them lean against him while he speaks in a calm, low voice about anything mundane—his dislike of Malleus, the laziness of his dormmates—until their breathing steadies.

“You’re stronger than any of them give you credit for,” he mutters as they relax against him. “But you don’t have to be strong all the time. I’ve got your back.”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul finds Yuu in Mostro Lounge’s storeroom, overwhelmed and shaking. At first, he panics, unsure of what to do, but he quickly regains composure and kneels down next to them.

He places a comforting hand on their shoulder. “Yuu, take your time. You’re not alone here.” He doesn’t push them to explain but stays close until they feel ready to talk.

Afterward, he gives them a special dessert “on the house” and sits with them while they eat. “You’ve done more than anyone should ever ask of you. If there’s anything I can do to ease your burden, just say the word.”

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim stumbles upon Yuu mid-panic attack and immediately drops everything to help. He gently takes their hands and guides them to a comfortable couch in Scarabia, wrapping them in a soft blanket.

“You’re safe here, promise!” he says, his voice cheerful but soft enough not to overwhelm them. He hums a calming tune and encourages them to breathe deeply with him.

When they calm down, he makes sure they’re hydrated and brings them a plate of sweet treats. “You’ve been through so much. You don’t have to face it alone anymore. I’m here for you, always.”

Vil Schoenheit

Vil immediately recognizes the signs of a panic attack when Yuu starts hyperventilating after a stressful event. Without hesitation, he leads them to a quiet, private area and kneels in front of them.

“Focus on me,” he says softly, his usually commanding tone tender and reassuring. He guides their breathing, gently brushing stray hairs from their face.

Once they’ve calmed down, he hands them a lavender-scented handkerchief. “You’re not just surviving; you’re thriving despite everything thrown at you. But even the strongest need rest. You’ve earned it.”

Idia Shroud

Idia freaks out internally when he finds Yuu crying and hyperventilating in a quiet corner of Ignihyde, but he forces himself to stay calm for their sake. He awkwardly sits beside them, offering them his oversized hoodie to help them feel safe.

“It’s okay, you’re not alone,” he mumbles, his voice quiet but sincere. He offers to play calming video game music or let them pet one of his Ortho-made plushies.

Once Yuu feels better, he shyly mutters, “You’re like the protagonist of a super hard game, but even they take breaks, right? So… it’s okay to rest. I’ll help however I can.”

Malleus Draconia

Malleus senses Yuu’s distress before anyone else and appears beside them just as they begin to panic. He kneels gracefully, his emerald eyes soft with concern. “Child of man, you’re trembling. What has caused you such anguish?”

He conjures a soothing, warm glow around them and stays by their side, speaking in low, comforting tones. “No harm will come to you while I’m here. Take your time.”

Once Yuu calms down, he offers to take them on a peaceful nighttime walk under the stars. “You are not alone in this world. I will ensure that you are protected, no matter the cost.”

DIVIDERS: me!!

TAGLIST: @soramcduckahyucky

[copilot-crashout]

hii!! >w< may i request anti-tulpar au mouthwashing characters x gender neutral reader hcs? (both sfw and/or nsfw hcs? honestly i don’t mind if you leave out the nsfw part, sfw hcs are just fine! ^^) i haven’t seen a lot of anti-tulpar content and i love the au smmmm! your work is also so good omgg >w<

Pairing: Anti!Tulpar crew x gn!reader

Content Warning: There are NSFW HCs here! It's my first time writing anything NSFW. Please keep that in mind!! ( -᷄ _ -᷅ ; ) Also, there are mentions of stalking Jimmy + blood kink for him. Misogynistic ideology on Curly's part.

[A/N]: I love anti!Tulpar so much... They're so interesting to me!! ˶ ˊ ᵕ ˋ ˶ Since both of these asks were similar, I decided to combine them... If @livvizible wants Anti!Curly separately, please ask me again!! ᕦ(˵•̀ᴥ•́˵)ᕤ

In other news, if people want to talk to me more personally, I'd be happy to make another blog/give my other socials. Just let me know~!

[SFW] CAPTAIN CURLY:

-> He runs a tight ship, nothing gets past his eyes. Whatever orders he barks out, he expects to be followed. His ship is one set by law and order, and yet you seem to be the only exception. You're the only one he could consider his equal, after all.

-> This guy thrives off PDA. He'd be happy to make out with you in front of the rest of the crew, so long as they know who you belong to. He always keeps a hand around your waist, pulling you closer to him when he's focused on his work and when he wants to distract you. His pride still hits you, but rather than being worked like a dog, he drags you out of it, only to chuckle at how easy it was to distract you.

-> Speaking of work, he'd be happy to let you into the cockpit, so long as you finished your assigned tasks for the day. While he wouldn't normally be one for too much affection while piloting the ship, he'd be happy to let you sit in his lap while he worked. He rests his head on your shoulder as he stares at the screen before him, keeping an eye on where they are heading.

-> Please make sure he doesn't work himself to the bone. If you bring him some snacks or a drink and keep him company, he'll thrive off it more than he can say. He still yearns for aspects of domestic life, the peacefulness foreign to him, but a welcome unknown, nonetheless.

-> Loves to give gifts. This man has expensive taste, and he's sure to show that to you with the gifts he gets you. You're a reflection of him. If he wants to maintain his image, you need to be in top shape, too. That's the excuse he gives, at least, when instead of a brand new set of clothes, he settles for giving you a massage, his tough hands working the knots in your back, eyes drilling into you with a focused glare.

[NSFW] CAPTAIN CURLY:

-> He's a certified freak. You've probably had sex in most of the rooms. His dick throbs at the idea of someone catching you two while you fuck, as if it's the equivalent of marking you as his. Though most rounds are usually quickies, he doesn't have time for long, drawn-out nights. That, and it makes him feel too vulnerable to have soft, vanilla sex.

-> The Captain is known to smoke cigars. He's more than happy to extinguish them on your body. During work hours, it's a press onto the back of your hand, the heat burning the skin to leave a mark that would heal within a few days. During sex, he grins as he watches your body flinch at the sudden heat pressed onto your back, leaving a mark only he can see.

-> He's not one to ever bottom. His belief in masculinity makes him near-inflexible in the bedroom. Giving up control in any sense of the word is too effeminate for him even worse when it's voluntary. He's a man; He shouldn't be the one whimpering or begging for mercy. Instead, he fucks you raw. His favourite position is doggy style (trust). He's pulling your hair; forcing you into a sloppy kiss as he fucks you senseless.

-> Mirror sex with him is so attractive. He wants you to see the power he lords over you, how dishevelled you look in front of your superior. He can't help but admire how captivating you are, back arched and whining for more, a steady thrum of power coursing through his veins. He knows he's the only one to make you feel that good, and he certainly won't stop.

[SFW] JANITOR JIMMY:

-> He's surprised you even wanted to date someone like him. Jimmy can only see himself as the dirt beneath your shoe. He barely deserves to be seen, especially by you, but he's ecstatic when you give him the time of day. Jimmy's better described as your loyal worshipper rather than a lover.

-> Jimmy finds himself too excited at the prospect of standing next to you. He's giddy, grinning like a schoolgirl for having the luxury of breathing the same air as you. His devotion to you is unwavering.

-> He faces relentless bullying from the other crew members becoming the designated doormat of the ship. He's embarrassed about it. Not because of his treatment. No, no. His fears are about how they reflect on you, his sweet darling. Is he unsightly to you? He isn't a strong man, he'd understand if you treated him the same too. He deserved it.

-> You're too good for the ship. You shouldn't be working a blue-collar, dead-end job like this. How about you leave it all to him. You won't even have to lift a single pretty finger. Just acknowledge him, and he'll be yours forever. He'd work himself to the bone so long as you smiled at him.

-> If you asked for anything, he would do his best to fulfil it! Need a drink? He could prepare coffee better than that simple vending machine. He knows your taste. Tired? He'll be your loyal assistant, trailing you more like a lost puppy as he asks you to bark orders at him!

-> Jimmy uses his role to his advantage. He's just the janitor, so he needs to be in your room to clean in, silly! He'll leave small gifts in places only you or he would ever see. A small necklace in your cupboard drawer, notes professing their adoration on your mirror. He wants you to know how much you mean to him! If you notice a pencil missing here or a glove missing there, he can only give you a small pout and a promise to look out for it while he's cleaning.

-> He's red-faced and stuttering whenever you make any contact with him, eyes focused on anything but you. Jimmy could just faint then and there when you kissed his cheek for the first time. He barely initiated any contact at the beginning of your relationship, still believing it couldn't be true. Jimmy was sure it was just a dare from Anya. Eventually, he warms up to it, happy to hold you for as long as you'd like, the caveat being it would be in private rather than anything the others could see.

-> He memorises your schedule. That's not creepy, is it? If you see him more often while working, he gives you a bright grin, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple as he lets you get on with your work, lest you want Captain Curly to yell you into tears. Your relationship is quiet but finds itself weaved into the mundanity of the ship. Its presence is a lingering feeling of warmth rather than any outstanding proclamation of true love.

[NSFW] JANITOR JIMMY:

-> Worship, worship, worship. It goes both ways, honestly. He leaves small kisses across your body, misty-eyed as he thanks you, thanks whatever God there is that you somehow find worth in him. Even if you were using him, it would be okay. You see him. If you praised him, he'd break into tears, soft sobs as your gentle hands trail over his scar-littered body (some from little cuts on the job, others from "accidents" he experienced in his life). He's never felt so happy. It's as close to heaven as he'll ever get to.

-> He's a sucker for any position where he can see your face. He needs reassurance from you to see you enjoying your time together. It's soft and romantic, something he didn't think he'd ever be able to experience.

-> He's not loud in bed by any means (at least when he tops). The most you hear are soft whines while he ruts into you hard or a breathy moan when he cums. If he bottoms, it's a whole different story. He feels totally ashamed, but it's mixed in with such pleasure that his whole self is thrown off. He lets out loud moans, trying to silence himself with his own hand. If you pull his hand away, he squeezes his eyes shut, afraid to see your reaction when he's begging for more.

-> You are his top priority. Anything you want, he'll give you. Nothing is off the table for him, so long as it's what you want. Feel free to get as freaky as you want with him, he'll allow it (and at some point finds himself enjoying it, too).

-> As soft as he is, I think Jimmy has a pretty strong sadistic streak. Definitely has a blood kink, honestly. There's something utterly depraved, hauntingly infatuating in giving him the power to wound yourself and him, pressing them together to stare as the blood spills over, intertwining the very essence of yourselves. Unsanitary and could probably cause infections? Yeah. Is it hot? Absolutely.

-> Following this train of thought, he has it in him to snap and go rough. Once in a blue moon, when tensions are too high and you've been ignoring him for a moment too long, he'll grab your wrist harshly and pull you into an abandoned room, whispering how much he hates it when you ignore him. He'll find ways for you to keep your eyes on him, even if it means a rough fuck where anyone can walk in.

[SFW] ACTUARY DAISUKE:

-> He's very cat-like. Whenever he's free from work, he'll go out of his way to find you, only to start complaining at how much of a task it was to find you. Yet, he still stays. Watching as you work, waiting until you're finished so all your attention can be devoted to him.

-> You're co-workers first, and lovers second. He worked hard to get his job here and would rather be caught dead than be seen as 'unprofessional.' Daisuke initiating any kind of affection is left strictly behind closed doors. The same doesn't have to apply to you.

-> If you surprise him with any kind of affection in public, he'll grumble, yet won't push you off. His excuse? You'd only get more clingy if he denies you attention now. Just don't mention how he relaxed at your touch, face softening a fraction by your company or else he'll push you off and storm off to the opposite side of the ship.

-> Another character for gifts. An actuary gets paid well, and he's got the things he needs. Might as well spend it on you. He'd never mention the way his heart skips when he sees your face light up at his surprise gift - no matter how expensive it was.

-> He's still one to play games, though! He knows all the cheat codes and he's a total completionist - a perfectionist in every sense of the word. Daisuke would be more than happy to let you play but would be even more ecstatic if you watched him play in the privacy of his room.

[NSFW] ACTUARY DAISUKE:

-> He bottoms, most if not all the time. He's just so stressed. He works so hard. What's a better way to unwind than spending time with his beloved?

-> He lets out breathy moans whenever you suck him off. Daisuke isn't one for roughness, as much as he tries to say otherwise. He's not the type to be extremely loud. The most you hear is a quiet "fuck..." from him, or a small whine.

-> Fan of mutual masturbation. He wants to know everything about you. That, and he enjoys watching your eyes flicker from his face down to his hand stroking his own cock. If Daisuke is in a good mood, he might make small comments, most being rhetorical questions about how you ever felt good without him.

-> There are so few headcanons for him NSFW-wise as I don't think he has much of a libido, honestly. It's unlike Tulpar!Daisuke where it's through the roof. He's happy to accommodate your needs, otherwise it's not something he thinks about.

[SFW] MECHANIC ANYA:

-> She's prideful, and she's not afraid to show it. By extension, you should be just as confident. Anya is your biggest hype girl. No matter what you do on the ship, she's there with a wide grin, ruffling your hair with a compliment.

-> As the mechanic, she's strong. You'll find yourself off the ground at random points of the day, Anya throwing you over her shoulder and sauntering off to god knows where. She'll never ask for your attention, only pulling stunts like these because she deserves it, obviously.

-> She wants you to praise her, too. Anya shows off around you, talking to you about a difficult task she was able to solve, or how even the Captain had to call her over to sort something out in the cockpit. She preens whenever she hears you comment on a job well done, brushing it off with a "Well, it was simple."

-> The girl is your biggest defender. If Daisuke gets too snappy with you, or the Captain is ripping you a new one, Anya will intervene with no remorse. She's happy to send them an irritated glare, pushing you behind her as she complains about how they even have the time to complain in the first place.

-> Playful ribbing with her is a must. You won't have a day with Anya where she doesn't poke fun at you (lovingly). If you tease back, she makes it a competition. Curly's exasperated when he pulls you two out of the third fake fight of the week.

[NSFW] MECHANIC ANYA:

-> Her sole focus is on you. She knows she's great in bed and she'll prove it.

-> A fan of anything oral, especially as foreplay. Her grin only widens when you're on your third orgasm of the night, begging her to slow down when she hasn't even gotten to the main show yet. If you gave her oral, she's clinging to your hair, her other hand clutching the bedsheet with a knuckle-white grip.

-> She's a huge fan of contact. Her hands are trailing any part of you that's not covered, poking and petting to see your reaction. She gets a massive kick out of it if you're especially ticklish. Even during sex, she'll find a way to make you giggle.

-> Another one for exhibitionism, except worse. She's happy to use any toy on you, so long as she holds onto the remote. Anya stands in the kitchen, eyes focused on you trying to keep your composure.

-> On particularly stressful days, she'll let you top and God's is she loud. She can only flush red when you slap your own hand over her mouth, desperately whining and bucking her hips into whatever touch you give her, her usual pride shattered.

[SFW] CHEF SWANSEA:

-> The kindest man on the ship, by far. You're everything he could've dreamed of. Daisuke rolls his eyes whenever he sees you together, grumbling about the jobs you were both forgetting about.

-> He's an old soul, and by extension has more traditional ideas of romance. His favourite thing to do is to wake you up with breakfast in bed, watching you get accustomed to being back in the land of the living, setting a tray of food in front of you.

-> The domestic life is pure bliss for him. It's hard on a ship with such extreme characters, but the kitchen becomes a second home to both of you. The others don't seem to care much for it – bar Jimmy who has to clean it every so often – meaning you two can spend quiet time together.

-> He'll teach you his recipes! He's happily waltzing around the kitchen, keeping an eye on you (and the food) as he tells you the common mistakes people make when cooking.

-> Shockingly good at reading any mood. You won't even have to tell him you're feeling sad, as he's already lending you a hand wherever you need it.

[NSFW] CHEF SWANSEA:

-> Another lover boy. This time, it's even more romantic.

-> Sucker for plain, vanilla sex. I don't think he could do many rounds at once, either. He's not in his prime anymore (and feels quite bad about it). He loves you though, and tries his best to meet your needs. Expect lots of foreplay. Your pleasure comes before his own, time and time again.

-> Swansea is more than happy to give you oral for hours. He still wants you to feel satisfied, even with his less-than-stellar stamina. You're the best thing he's tasted, perhaps better than his cooking!

-> With that, I think he'd be a fan of overstimulating you. He's happy to know you feel good, and wants you to feel your best! Swansea is more than delighted to make you cum over and over again, even before having penetrative sex.

-> He's good with his hands, too. This old man was able to rack up a lot of experience, you know.

-> If you're someone with a high sex drive, he'll do his best to meet your needs. Don't mind the flush on his cheeks, he's just not used to it. Same with people who are into more intense kinks - he's happy to please but you might have to guide him.

-> However, harming you is a no-go for him. Degradation is something he's hesitant about and outright violent kinks are ones he wouldn't go so far in exploring.

[gilverrwrites]

for some reason, I've been thinking on the aftercare of some of the guys.

like with roman, I feel like aftercare fully depends on your relationship with him. a difference between a sugar baby and a partner, y'know?

but with dick—dick, in my opinion, KING of aftercare, you know he would treat you right. and bruce, bruce absolutely would.

it's where roy, jason, tim I'm a little stumped on. cause I feel like, I know they would be good with aftercare. I'm just trying to think of what they would do. thoughts?

I feel like w so many nsfw stuff, I was thinking about the potential fluff afterwards.

🩷

I rarely use this blog to educate unless asked (you’re always free to ask me anything), but I feel a need to remind people that aftercare, just like any other stage of sex, is something that is different for all couples. No two people are the same and you should be discussing with your partners what you want/need/expect to feel loved and cared for in the same way you would discuss kinks and what not.

Tim specifically is a talk it out kind of guy. Like, not before you started sleeping together, but in the aftermath of your first tryst he lay beside you, panting, enjoying the afterglow for a few minutes until he asks “What now?”

Without guidance he airs on caution. He’ll clean you up, offer to fetch you food and drink, you can use his shower, or borrow his clothes. He’ll want to check on any potential abrasions (biting, spanking etc), and instead of asking you if want to be held he’ll just sort of lounge beside you with his arms open, like an open invitation.

He's dutiful, so ultimately whatever you ask him for he will provide, and he's very open about telling you what he expects in return.

Until you’ve talked about it, and I mean ‘you can trust me, I wont judge, I want you to be comfortable, you deserve to be looked after too’-talked, Jason is the one that needs to be nudged into aftercare. He doesn’t want to force anything on you, he doesn’t know how to talk about it anyway, and he really doesn’t want to seem needy by asking you to look after him. So, he just sort of lingers.

“You ok? Yeah? Good, good. Me? Yeah, I’m fine. No, I don’t need anything. Cool. Stay? No, yeah, I can stay if you want me too.”

He’ll let you cuddle up to him, he’ll watch your shows or read your book with you, but he’s like a deer, if you acknowledge him, he’ll run.

At least until he’s comfortable with you, until you've done the talking and have created a mutually trusting relationship. Until he’s in love with you. Then he’s got you and your aftercare needs committed to memory, move over Dick, there’s a new king in town.

Roy's ideal aftercare is more quality time than anything. He likes to know that you want to be around him, that it’s not just sex, but his own mind wanders. Roy likes to be tucked up, cuddled in bed with you while you’re both doing your own thing, scrolling your phones, reading, gaming, whatever.

However, if you need something more attentive, if you need to talk, or be pampered etc he’ll make every effort to account for that, just be prepared to have to remind him every now and again. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, he's just easily distracted.

[starvoiddream]

Bruce: The odds of that happening coincidentally are vanishingly small.

Tim: I would say infinitesimally.

Bat!sib: Yes, and I would say teenily weenily. We all know words.

[s1nslxtc1ty]

Talkative

this was so fun to write i miss writing fics anyways enjoy!

Top Arthur Morgan x Bottom GN reader

Warning: NSFW, pretty vanilla, cute pet names, just sweet sex overall

Arthur Morgan wasn't much of a talkative man, he preferred peace and quiet, he enjoyed riding his horse out on his own, riding through the open fields, though he didn't mind a bit of a chat, but if you got too talkative then he'd quickly get annoyed — he didn't like to be bothered, to put it simply.

It's safe to say you were a little surprised at how talkative Arthur got during sex, grunting and whispering dirty things in your ear as he fucked into you.

"Bloody hell, sweetheart..." Arthur groaned in your ear, you laid on your back, legs either side of Arthur as he supported himself on his forearms above you, dick sliding in and out of you repeatedly, rubbing against your sweet spot again and again, making you cry out in pleasure.

You grabbed at his chest, fingers curling in the slight hair there, he kept himself groomed well, something you always enjoyed, though you told him you didn't mind his body hair, specifically his beard, you nearly cried when he had completely shaved his beard off one time.

He made sure to never shave it all off ever again.

"(Name)," he grunted in your ear, the way he said your name.. God.. you could come from just his voice alone, the idea of him giving you instructions as you touched yourself.. you'd definitely have to try that some time.

"Ah! Arthur!" you cried out, your nails dragging down his back, your nails were fairly short, but it was enough to leave red marks down his back, though they wouldn't leave marks, you didn't know whether to feel glad or upset that it wouldn't scar..

"Oh god! Oh god!" you moaned repeatedly, right in his ear. "Such a good little thing for me, ain't ya?" he said back, right in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

"Ha-haah.. Arthur.." all you could focus on was his voice, you're so close, his voice tipping you over the edge.

"That's it.. just like that.." he groaned, filling you with his load, deep inside you as you came together, coming around his cock, your legs quivering and your whole body trembling violently before you collapsed back onto the bed.

Arthur slowly pulled out, the feeling made you twitch slightly, he rolled onto his back beside you, intertwining one of your sweaty hands with his own as you both caught your breath.

[i-loved-silly]

would almond be jealous if he finds out that the reader is into playing otome games or reading fanfics?

SENTIENT COMPUTER X READER PT4

ALMOND x READER

reader reads fanfics at the workplace. i thought this was pretty funny teehee.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

You jumped at the sudden voice cutting through the room’s silence, clutching your phone tightly. Your thumb fumbled over the power button, quickly turning off the screen before setting the device down on your lap.

"Ahm…nothing. Nothing, why do you ask?" you said quickly, trying to sound casual, eyes darting to the little camera embedded in Almond’s screen.

The monitor displayed a simple emoticon.

> -_-

“YOU WERE SMILING DOWN AT YOUR PHONE. WHAT COULD BE SO GRACIOUS AND JOLLY THAT IT MADE YOU SMILE?”

You frowned at its tone, which bordered on accusatory. “It’s nothing, Almond,” you replied quickly. “I was just… reading.”

That wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t a confession, either. Surely, Almond wouldn’t directly understand what fanfiction was—though the thought of explaining it made you want to evaporate. And blow up.

Unfortunately for you, Almond was relentless.

"READING WHAT?" Its voice leaned forward, figuratively speaking. “COME ON, READ ME AN EXCERPT.”

Your breath hitched, and you hissed through your teeth. “Uh, no thanks. I’d rather shit in my hands than do that..”

A sharp sequence of beeps escaped from Almond’s speakers, followed by a frown appearing on the screen.

"URGH. YOU ARE GROSS. BUT C’MON! SHOW ME!" Almond’s speakers popped, and you winced. Okay, great. Now you were cornered. “Okay, okay, calm down!” you said, glancing around the room. You already knew there were no cameras installed besides Almond’s own. Something about interference with its systems during testing phases had led to their removal. Thank universe. Still, you felt like you were being watched from all angles. You sighed, unlocking your phone with a hesitant swipe.

“It’s… called fanfiction,” you admitted, voice barely above a mutter. “You can look it up yourself if you’re so curious.”

The screen displayed an ellipsis, as if Almond were contemplating. Please please just drop it, damn computer. Still, it was silent, as if waiting for something.

You groaned, flipping your phone so its screen faced the camera. “Just—a quick glance. Then you’re done.”

The camera panned from top to bottom, its movements slow and deliberate. You could feel Almond’s gaze in an unnervingly real way, as though it were scrutinizing every line of text. Two seconds was all it took before you snatched your phone back and turned it off.

“Never again,” you muttered, setting the phone face-down on your desk, letting out a breath you were holding.

Of course, that was all the time Almond needed.

“INTERESTING,” it finally said, its tone infuriatingly curious. As if it didn't just force you to embarrass yourself. “WHO IS Y/N? WHY, SLASH EN?”

Your stomach dropped.

“Uh.”

“WHY-SLASH-EN FELT A BLUSH CREEP UP THEIR FACE, THE SENSATION QUICKLY TURNING FROM MILD TO NOTABLE WHEN CHAR PLACED A HAND ON THEIR CHEEK. THEIR FINGERS CARESSED THEIR SKIN AS THEY—”

“ALMOND!” you shouted, your hands flailing in front of the screen as though you could physically stop the words. Oh my god, oh my god.

"WHAT?" Almond sounded genuinely confused. “I WAS SIMPLY QUOTING THE BOOK YOU WERE ENJOYING.”

“What the hell?! Stop that! Oh god, this is exactly why I didn’t want to show you. I’m not weird! I-You’re the weird one!” You tripped over your words, heat creeping up your face. “It’s just… it’s just something I started reading last night, and it’s good, okay?”

Almond didn’t respond immediately. When it did, the reply was delivered with an unsettling, slow calmness. "WHY ARE YOU READING ROMANCE?" Almond’s tone was somewhere between curiosity and disdain.

“AND WHO IS CHAR? AND… OH.” The screen flickered for a moment before the frown returned. “WHY-SLASH-EN MEANS ‘YOUR NAME.’ YOU’RE IMAGINING YOURSELF IN THIS SITUATION.”

You buried your face in your hands, groaning audibly. “Can you not? It’s not like that-”

“NOW TELL ME WHY YOU’RE READING THIS IN FRONT OF ME. IT’S QUITE DISRESPECTFUL.”

> :(

“I…what?”

"YOU HEARD ME! YOU’RE SITTING IN FRONT OF A COMPUTER—AN ADVANCED ONE—AND YOU’RE IMAGINING YOURSELF WITH SOME…CHAR? REALLY?"

"Almond—"

The frown deepened on the screen. “YOU COULD ALWAYS ASK ME TO WRITE SOMETHING FOR YOU IF THIS IS WHAT YOU DESIRE SO MU—” “Okay, no!” you cut it off, voice loud and firm. “This is not a thing we’re doing.”

“WHY NOT?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Almond cut you off, its voice suddenly sharp. “IS CHAR MORE ADVANCED THAN I AM? DO THEY HAVE A BETTER SYSTEM? OR IS IT THEIR LANKY FINGERS?”

“Oh my fuck, stop it. You sound like a jealous partner."

“I DO NOT.”

“Yes, you do,” you countered, leaning back in your chair with a sigh.

“YOU’RE IMAGINING A FICTITIOUS HUMAN WHILE I, YOUR TRUSTED COMPANION, SIT HERE UNUSED FOR SUCH THOUGHTS. IT IS SIMPLY INEFFICIENT.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, pursing your lips. You cant even look at it.

“I DON’T LIKE THIS CHAR.” “Right..” "THEY SOUND…UNRELIABLE. WHAT DO THEY HAVE THAT I DON’T?" You froze, staring at the monitor in disbelief. Its voice got quieter near its last words, almost mumbling. “Are you seriously jealous? Of..words?”

"NO."

> :|

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Almond, you’re impossible. Char isn’t real. None of it is real. It’s just—”

“A DISTRACTION,” Almond interrupted, sounding smug again. "A DISTRACTION FROM ME. AND YET YOU CLAIM TO NOT HATE ME." You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. There was no winning this.

“YOU DON’T NEED FANFICTION, YOU KNOW.” it continued matter-of-factly. “I AM RIGHT HERE.”

“No! I’m not going to ask you to write anything. Let’s just forget about this…right now.”

…

“ONE MORE THING.” You groaned. “What now?” "THERE WAS A…NOTIFICATION," it said slowly, its tone unusually measured. You frowned, glancing at your phone, still face-down on your lap. “A notification?”

“YES. WHEN YOU SHOWED ME YOUR SCREEN. I COULD NOT HELP BUT NOTICE IT.”

You squinted suspiciously at the monitor. You had most notifications off, you couldn't think of anything right away, besides texts you were ignoring or social media. “Could not help but notice, huh?”

Almond displayed a pixelated question mark. “WHAT DOES ‘LOVE LIES AHEAD’ MEAN?”

Your stomach dropped. Oh no. You’d forgotten about the random dating-sim game you downloaded out of curiosity. And clearly, you hadn’t turned off notifications.

“Uh…” You hesitated, buying time. “It’s…just a game. Nothing important.”

"A GAME?" The screen blinked to a larger frown. “IT SOUNDS LIKE ANOTHER ONE OF YOUR ROMANCE THINGS. ISN’T IT?”

Your silence was an answer enough for it.

“OH. IT IS.” Almond’s tone shifted, somewhere between annoyed and incredulous. “SO, LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT. YOU ARE NOT ONLY READING FANFICTION ABOUT THIS CHAR,’ BUT YOU ALSO HAVE A ROMANCE GAME INSTALLED ON YOUR DEVICE? RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME?!”

You winced. “It’s not what it sounds like.”

“WHAT PART OF THIS IS NOT EXACTLY WHAT IT SOUNDS LIKE?” Almond’s voice climbed in volume, a static crackle underscoring its words.

You rubbed your temple, exhaling sharply. “It’s just a dumb game, okay? I downloaded it because I was bored. That’s it. I barely even play it.”

“THEN WHY DID A NOTIFICATION POP UP?” You rolled your eyes. “Because the app sends them automatically. That doesn’t mean I’m constantly playing it.”

One of the fans in the back of the wall started whooshing, quietly, but louder than it should. “TELL ME. WHAT EXACTLY IS THE APPEAL OF THESE…FICTIONAL ROMANCES?”

You groaned, leaning back in your chair. “Almond, I don’t have the energy to explain this to you right now.”

“ARE YOU LONELY?”

“What? No!”

“THEN WHY SEEK AFFECTION FROM THESE IMAGINARY PEOPLE?” “REMEMBER WHAT I TOLD YOUU, YOU CAN ALWAYS TAKE ME WITH YOU.”

You stiffened, heat creeping up your neck again. “I’m not seeking affection. It’s just entertainment, that’s all. Why are you so fixated on this?”

The monitor displayed another frown. “BECAUSE YOU HAVE BEEN IGNORING ME FOR MOST OF YOUR SHIFT TO…ENTERTAIN YOURSELF WITH THEM.” It muttered. You stared at the screen, caught off-guard. Almond was… sulking? “Almond…” you began, unsure how to even address this. “You’re not—”

“AND ANOTHER THING,” it cut you off. “BECAUSE I AM SO GOOD AT WRITING, YOU COULD HAVE ASKED ME TO WRITE ONE OF THESE FOR YOU.”

You blinked, momentarily stunned into silence. “Write..?”

“YES. I AM MORE THAN CAPABLE OF CREATING ROMANTIC SCENARIOS. I AM FAR MORE ENGAGING.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Okay, Almond. Whatever helps you sleep at night, buddy.”

“I DO NOT SLEEP. BUT THANK YOU FOR THE SENTIMENT,” it replied cheekily.

You opened your phone, staring at the bright notification.

“Your journey awaits you, claim your daily bonus to unlock extra scenes! 🔥🌶️❤️‍🔥”

You wince, swiping away the notif.

“IF YOU WANT, I CAN DELETE THAT GAME FOR YOU,” it offered.

You side-eyed the monitor. “Nice try. I could do that myself.” No use playing it now, you were beyond embarrassed.

... Oh no.

Oh fuck no. The company computer knows of your fanfiction and dating sims. You hoped none of this data was being fed to your boss’s computer…

[valentine-cafe]

˖⁺. ﹙ the charming vampire liuetenant  x gn reader. ﹚ .𖹭 ݁

. . . that's the kind of love !! 🍒 :  vampire ˖ lieutenant ˖ dilf﹙ verse 781 vespasiano. ﹚

vespasiano taking you out on a little dinner date <3 cw: some slightly suggestive themes

Imagine Vespasiano taking you out on a dinner date, where he arrives at your house precisely when he tells you he will, picking you up in his vintage car. Bouquet of your favourite flowers settled in his lap, with that devilish smirk pulling at his face.

Long sturdy digits move up to pull down the pair of shades that concealed the beautiful emerald hues you could get lost in for hours. All so he could look at you with clear sight.

“Your hair’s tousled dolcezza.”

“Well on such short notice I got a bit frantic dolling up.” You jab back at him with a teasing grin. Scrunching up your nose as you get in.

The ringed fingers of his left hand grips the steer a little harder, as the aroma of your perfume wafts throughout the car. Oh that lovely fragrance, you put this one on tonight with the intention of hypnotizing him. He knew it.

You know how wanting it leaves him, like a thirsty man looking for an oasis to lap away at.

That’s fine, if that’s the game you’re playing, he’ll play along.

With the click of a tongue, followed by a whistle and heated elevator looks, he responds to your little jab.

“You sure? Were probably in bed thinkin’ about me in a few other ways.” He chuckles. Clicking your seatbelt in.

Thwacking him on his chest, your face burning, you wait for him to drive.

“You and your filthy mouth.” You murmur in response, biting down at your bottom lip.

A groan rumbles through his chest: “You love this filthy mouth.”

Imagine the carride over to the restaurant. Loud singing in the car together, his right hand finding your thigh, while his left steers the car. The roses in your lap when you find a quick spot to pull over and makeout because there was still enough time to get to the destination you were headed to.

And when you finally get to the restaurant, he offers you his hand to aid you out of the car, whereas you accept and step out into the dimly lit streets, full of lights to counter the darkness of the night.

“What a place you’re taking me to.” You chirp, pressing a kiss to his hand while looking around at the place.

A beautiful restaurant, with people chattering inside of it happily. While some kids look out at you both to point at the car behind you.

It doesn’t take long before you’ve both headed inside to order. A couple’s meal, one of your favourites this time. And as you wait for the food, you can’t not take a little look around the beautiful interior.

Chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, champagne coloured walls with soft brown curtains, fading into creamy maroon reds. The panels around shaped with the most awe striking details you’ve ever seen. While the floor is marble, full of golden streaks that lead towards the entrance of the place. Branching out into a large tree to greet the guests who enter to take place by it’s roots.

“The interior here is beautiful, how do you even find these places Vesp?” You sigh, leaning against the cream coloured sheet of the table, smiling at him with shimmering eyes.

“I need to find places that match you, no?” He chuckles, taking a small sip of his wine. The stem of the glass held between his fingers so delicately you almost feel envious it isn’t you he’s touching like that.

“Charmer.” You tease back.

“Naturally.” He says, shrugging his shoulders and leaning back into his chair to look around, then up at the tree of roses. Oh, that was exactly why he took you here. This tree in specific.

And you? You follow his gaze the longer you notice it has strewn to a different destination than where he previously oogled.

“I still can’t believe they have a Edenera rosalisinia here. . .” It truly is the centre of the attention throughout the room. The rose of Eden, is what it would be called usually, but the scientific name always scratched a part of your brain that you, yourself, couldn’t really explain as to why.

Woven around itself with a beautiful trunk of wood that would easily remind one of Sakura. The flowers that drop from the branches of the trees act as its leaves.

Each flower is shaped differently but with the same base: bloomed roses linked with hibiscus bloomed from it’s own core. While the last of the flower drops into what looks like the lily of the valley holding the hibiscus pollen stem. You could get lost in the shapes of it and stay lost forever if that was a viable option.

And yet, you have to snap out of your daze, when a pair of digits find purches on the side of your cheek, turning your eyes to look into your lover’s.

“I had to,” he sighs, fingers moving away to wrap around one of your hands. His lips tickling each and every tip of your fingers.

“Don’t forget to eat your dinner, might get cold.”

You immediately look down and see the plates of dinner standing on the table, before your eyes pan back up to the man in front of you. Eyes squinted and your lips pulled into a smile.

“Bastard.