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transformers-spike · 2 days ago

Note

You put Breakdown with a gutbuster in my head, and now I need. For him to use it. On me. (Aka reader)

Bonus points if it's disgustingly cute and sweet and BD gets lots of love and praise. 🥹🥺

I overdid it. Again. Thank you @drunkeninlovesailor for beta-reading this fic and smacking some sense into me when self-doubt reared its ugly head. And I will go on to say @ss-shitstorm made me adore Breakdown so much more through Breaking Bread. I look up pictures of him and cry And yes, this is a sequel to Visitors - so back to the heatverse

Knock Out always goes first. Breakdown doesn’t mind it. At least he shouldn’t. He knows he’ll have his turn with you. Everyone does.

Second or seventh place, it doesn’t matter. He should be grateful to have a chance. Just like he should be grateful he didn’t lose more than one optic. Or the feeling in his left arm. Or his honor.

Again, it doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. It’s his turn. No superior waiting at your habsuite, no humiliating dismissal (obviously, they don’t mean for it to seem humiliating – they’re his superiors after all, and he has to obey them) – only you in the midst of your heat cycle.

The “breeding room”, as you jokingly call it, is actually Knock Out’s old habsuite. Repurposed, yeah, but he’s been here enough times to recognize it. Any Con worth their ball-bearings can upgrade after reaching third class. Knock Out used to be a first class. Then he was promoted to Chief Medical Officer and skipped a rank. Breakdown is stuck in second class. Better than first. Better than being a vehicon. He should be satisfied.

You’re curled up in your oversized berth on top of the heating pad. “Hey, squishy,” he whispers, taking his usual place next to you. “Don’t tell me Knock Out tired you out.” Your answer is a snort. You stretch, flesh poking out from under your frame coverings. A common sight by now, but his cooling fans didn’t get the memo. His frame vibrates with their familiar hum.

“Like what you see handsome?” you ask and scuttle up to him, wearing that precious spark-warming smile. He returns it full force.

“What can I say? Even a one-opticced oaf can recognize true beauty.” “Careful, partner. There’s only so much I can take before jumping on your spike.” He barks a laugh. “It may come sooner than you think.” “Bring it. I’m ready to deepthroat until your system reboots. But first -” you huff as you climb into his lap, waving away the servo he’s offering. Once comfortably seated in his lap, you cheekily rub your aft against his interface panel.

“Spill the tea, sis.”

“Hmph…” He drums his digits over his thigh. “We’ve had a record break in the mines! I haven’t seen them this happy in quartexes. There was a small party at homebase, squad’s been celebrating with engex.”

“Homemade?”

“Nah – I’ve checked. I won’t let them pull that stunt again.” He winces at the memory. B15F. Poor scrapper’s been euthanized well before his time. There wasn’t much left to save. The engex melted right through his fuel tanks. Breakdown didn’t pride himself on morality anymore – none of them did. But it was the right call – even if the uncertainty is tearing through his circuitry like a horde of scraplets. Could Knock Out have fixed B15F? Or maybe it would’ve just dragged out his suffering for a chance at nothing. His conjunx had studied at a bigshot academy – Breakdown’s knowledge’s based around rushed medical training. ��You okay, big guy?” He snaps out of it. “Yeah! Everything’s good.” You can’t see his reassuring smile with his massive chassis in the way. But maybe if he keeps it up he’ll really mean it.

“You sure? You’ve been doing that a lot lately.” His smile falters. If a human has noticed it… who else has? Is this why Dreadwing’s been especially tolerant of his mistakes? Scrap, Breakdown almost misses his commanding officer’s reproaches. Could he get any more pitiful for frag’s sake? Proving himself after losing an optic to fleshies is bad enough. He’s not an invalid – he won’t be demoted to janitorial duties after working his aft off to make it this far.

“Workload’s been pretty intense. Been on my mind a lot.” He adds a chuckle to convince you – but he can’t see your expression with his chassis in the way.

“Bad enough for the vehicons to get blackout drunk again?”

“Found them recharging in mine carts.”

“Just like a college frat party, huh?” He has no idea what that means. Doesn’t stop him from laughing, though. “You should’ve seen them getting out! The sight brought lubricant to my optic.” “Scrambling like turtles stuck on their backs?” Oh – those, he definitely remembers. “Better. Remember that video you sent of the cat-looking thing surrounded by fermented fruits?” “The raccoon?” “Yeah! Struggling to sit up, then falling back in again!” You snort louder. “Ah. An absolute classic. You should totally film it next time, I would kill to see it.” “Oof. I’d love to, but I’m not sure I can do that while on shift. Ask Soundwave. Nothing escapes him.” Especially any contamination of the medbay – his processor shudders at the memory. At least it wasn’t Commander Starscream. Fooling around’s been kept to Knock Out’s habsuite ever since. And outside the ship, but that’s not the Intelligence Officer’s business.

“More than you know…” you say. Your tiny digits sneakily stroke the protomatter between his hip and thigh. The touch isn’t sensual. At least he doesn’t think it’s supposed to be. You’re not shy about squeezing, biting or running your glossa over it. This feels different. Hesitant.

“You know… you rarely visit first.” He sputters. “It’s not that I don’t want to or anything!” He shifts his frame and cranes his neck to take a good look at you. No success. “It’s that… I’m still a soldier, and they’re my superiors.” “I know that, silly. I’m talking about how you always let Knock Out have the first go at me before either of your shifts start. Why is that?” “I…” He shakes his helm. “Come on, second place doesn’t make any difference. As long as I get to pay you a visit, I’m happy!” His vox is strained. He meant to sound cheerful. What came out felt like rust being scraped off mesh.

You sink your digits into his thigh. Not enough to hurt. Never enough to hurt. A single fleshie can’t hurt a Cybertronian. But it’s clearly meant as a warning. Even he can tell that.

“Dude, just ask to go first. Knock Out is lovely and all, but you shouldn’t neglect yourself for his sake. I want you to come around and let loose before anyone else. Hell, you deserve it. Do you want me to ask Megatron personally? I can do that, no prob-” “No!” It comes out too desperate. “No,” he repeats. Softer. “The others don’t do well with favorites. Uh… except maybe Soundwave, but he doesn’t count.” Breakdown cringes. He wants no part in their power struggles, especially Commander Starscream’s. Else he’d end up at the barrel of his Master’s cannon.

“Okay… but my point still stands. Ask Knock Out to reschedule next time orr I’m bringing Megatron into this.” His vents huff, servos drawn into fists.

“Got it,” he relents. “I’ll talk to him, but if he refuses-” “He won’t refuse,” you say none-too-softly. “We’ve had a chat post-coitus.” He blinks. “You cannot be serious.” “Low and behold, I am. What? Did you expect me not to address it?” “He’s going to be furious at me.” “Like hell . If he so much as lifts a digit, I’ll be happy to inform Megatron and get him put in his place. He’s your superior in the medbay, not outside of it last I checked. And trust me, I’ve been checking.” He clenches his jaw and offlines his optic. “We’re not…” he starts gently, leveling his words carefully. “We’re not Newsparks. There’s a balance we’ve established on the Nemesis. All of us. Bringing Lord Megatron into this won’t offset the balance. It’ll destroy it. What we have here,” he gestures at the small habsuite. “Is thanks to his generosity. I don’t want to lose this because of some petty interface stuff. If he intervenes… I doubt we’ll still be able to visit.” There’s a long pause. He gives you the time to mull it over. An apology already on his glossa. “I understand. I know it’s not my place to call the shots. Part of me wishes that…” You swallow. “Part of me wishes that I could make things easier for you guys. You’ve all been through so much, and I know I’m only the ship’s resident pet or whatever, but I can throw my weight around a bit. You know, use my position for good?” “For good? Primus, you’re already doing us enough good!” “Hm, not exactly. You’re the ones helping me with my heat when he’s not around. Ugh – I would be suffering without you guys.” You squeeze his thigh. “Man-” you laugh nervously. “I hope I’m not getting too sappy. You’re, like, the only one I can have these conversations with.” His fans stutter. “Really? Not even Lord-” “Not even,” you repeat with finality. There’s a comfortable silence. Breakdown is smiling to himself.

“Hey, big guy.” “Yeah, squishy?” “Wanna kiss?” “Is that even a question?” he asks as he picks you up from his lap, servos cradling your fragile human frame. “Mmm, you know the answer.” You touch the sides of his face. His cooling fans flip to the second setting. Your hands are soft. Incredibly soft. His vents cease functioning entirely as you kiss him. Your glossa is warm and wet. His circuits crackle with charge. How could something so small push his systems into overdrive? When you pull away, he’s left cold and yearning. You don’t waste a klik undressing yourself, tossing your frame coverings over his servos and onto the berth. His lips find yours again. You devour his intake like your fuel tanks are empty.

Knock Out satiated you groons ago, but you’re already running hot with want. His heavy engine purrs. “Someone’s eager to get spiked,” he mutters against your intake. You ex-vent sharply and kiss again, grinning against his lips. He slides a digit between your legs, which you immediately part. There’s still feeling in this one, taking in the heat of your slick valve. There’s no trace of your last interface, only a craving for more. A hiss escapes you as he rubs the digit over your minuscule anterior node. Your hips buck into him, teeth grazing his lip.

“Please, stop teasing already. You know I can’t take it.” “I’m not a tease - that’s Knock Out’s job.” He swipes his glossa over your intake. “I’m the total opposite. So, what do you say? Is your little valve ready to take my spike?” Your optics widen, lubricating in excitement. “Oh finally!” You press your helm against his. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this! I’m so glad the recent energon haul got you enough to mass displace.” “Actually, I’ve been rationing my energon for a deca-cycle!” You step away from his helm and look at him in… strange horror. “You what?” There’s pity in your optics and disappointment furrowing your optical ridge.

Oh frag him! Why did he have to open his intake? “It’s nothing to worry about, I swear! I’ve done this plenty of times in the past – there was this time my unit was stranded in the Sea of Rust and there was no energon for almost a whole deca-cycle! Impressive, right? You don’t see any seekers surviving that!” Your horrified expression worsens. “What do you mean you’ve been starving yourself for weeks just to mass displace and fuck me?”

“Come on, it’s not really starving! We bots can deal with it better than you humans!” he stammers, engine revving in panic. “It’s not about that – it’s about sacrificing yourself for… for this!” you gesture at your body. “Fuck’s sake, you could have told me! I was waiting for you to ask! I could have gotten you the energon ages ago!” “Then why didn’t you?” The words smash through his intake before he can stop them, leaving him to clean up the mess.

His spark tightens when you flinch. It’s the first time he’s startled you. The first time he’s seen you scared. “I… I didn’t…” Your gaze falls. “Scrap, I’m so sorry! It’s not my place to say it, I didn’t mean-” “It’s fine,” you gently stop him. He immediately yields. “You don’t have to apologize. I just… didn’t expect it to be this bad.” A sigh leaves your intake. “I still want to help, though. If Knock Out can mass displace almost every time he visits, isn’t there plenty of energon to go around? Don’t you also work in the medbay on top of everything? You deserve at least the same amount of rations.” “It’s more complicated than that,” he mutters. “Knock Out outranks me.” “So? You’re just one bot, it won’t drain the reserves.” He presses a servo to his helm. “My frame type’s the issue. Us warrior class bots need far more energon than the average vehicon.” “Yes, and? You’re still just one more war frame. Who else is there? Megatron, Dreadwing – that makes three.” You bite your lip when you meet his optic. “Let me give you a hand. I’ll leave the whole thing with Knock Out alone if you let me help with this.” “I…” His vents huff. “Okay. I’ll let you take care of it. But, please tell him not to summon me. Else it’ll seem suspicious.” A smile tugs at the corner of your intake. “Got it. Easier done than said.” Hesitating, you reach out to touch his cheekplate. He leans in. You take a deep in-vent. “I’m sorry for blowing up like that. I’ve been so worried about everyone lately, I’ve overstepped so many boundaries. The energon thing just… drove me off the edge.” “It’s okay,” he says, unsure of his own words. “It happens to the best of us. If it’s any comfort,” he grimaces, “Knock Out’s been riding my tailpipe about my energon intake for the whole deca-cycle. That’s why I… tried to keep it a secret. Until now.” “Did it work on him?”

“Frag no!” He laughs. “For all his drawbacks, he’s the closest thing to a doctor on this ship. Noticing something’s wrong’s part of his primary code!” His laughter dies down. “Sorry. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I definitely ruined the mood.” “Not at all.” You press your cheek against his. “If it’s any comfort on my part, I’ve been called someone else’s name during interface.” His optic buzzes in its socket. “Who?” he demands without meaning to. “Who?” He repeats, far softer – now a polite question. “No one in High Command, sadly,” you say like you’ve read his mind, adding an apologetic shrug. “Another human before the alien shebang happened.” “Ah.” He averts his optic to hide his disappointment. “Come on, man. You know I would have immediately rung you up if Starscream had been moaning Megatron’s name during overload.” He cracks a smile. “I guess you’re right.” “Gossip girls forever?” You offer your fist. “Gossip girls forever,” he agrees, tapping it with his digit. You both mimic an explosion and draw your servos away in slow motion. “Still not sure what explosive punches have to do with gossip.” “Shhh - it’s a human bestie thing.” You kiss him again. Gently at first, then harsher with his wordless encouragement – your hunger makes his engine rev. “Want to start with valve to glossa action? How about we keep mass-displacement for the final course?” “Like I’ll ever refuse a free refueling.” You snicker. The noise is so precious it makes his joints weak. Lying on his abdomen with you in his servos, you writhe as he presses his glossa to your valve. “Fuck,” you hiss. “You okay?” he’s unable to hide the smugness in his tone. “I thought Knock Out had the first taste.” “ Fuck , Knock Out. I need your glossa right now. No one else’s.” His fans shudder. Once, handling someone so small was circuit-frying. He’d been with plenty of minicons, but never an organic. Those bots could take a good pounding. Fleshies? Not so much.

“Fuck.” You shiver as his glossa rubs up and down your pretty valve. Your hips buck into it. He grins between your legs and licks again. And again. And again. Until he feels your servos on his crest. “I need to ride your face,” you say – more declaration than request. He blinks, grin widening. “That desperate, huh?” “Shut up,” you growl – too adorable for your own good. How he wants to squeeze and smother you against his face. Your legs are soft on either side of his cheeks, servos gripping onto his crest with impressive strength for a creature so small and frail. He holds his glossa out for you to use as you please, two digits holding your hips in case you tumble off. “How…” You pant. “How are you this good?” He shrugs with his free arm. His vents blast harder. “I’m not even doing anything,” he mumbles with his glossa out. “Of course you are. You’re being your sweet himbo self,” your words falter as you keep riding.

His cheekplates heat up. “Uh, a what now?”

There’s no answer, only your legs shaking as you furiously grind against his intake. You grip onto his crest, your entire frame shaking. “Breakdown!” you call out, vox breaking. A sudden burst of charge travels down his interface array. His pressurized spike clanks against his panel. “Frag,” he groans. His spike’s throbbing, Ugh, it hurts like he swung it against a wall.

At least you’re oblivious to his, uh, mishap – twitching against his glossa while trying to slow your ventilation. The plating of hips shifts and his panels release his array. His valve is soaking with transfluid, steam almost emanating off of it after overheating for half a groon. The cold air makes his spike twitch. “Is it… is it time?” you ask weakly, turning around to look at his lap. “Oh hey, so that’s where the noise came from.” He cringes, but still helps you get down. You scurry towards the middle of the berth and cheer out “Show me the goods, big boy!” Mass displacement is something he’d done in the past – back on Cybertron when there was plenty of energon to go by. Now it’s just a waste. Not for you, obviously! Primus, you’re worth every last drop. His working receptors buzz with sensation. System diagnostics appear at the corner of his vision. Mass conversion: successful

Warning:

Minimum energon required: 70%

Current level: 93% His joints are calibrated, there’s no ache in his processor, subspace feels fine – everything’s in working order. He can rest easy and focus on the important stuff. “Woah.” you beam at him. It’s uncanny to see you… so much bigger than he’s used to.

The hug is sudden but not unwelcome. Your helm comes up to his chassis, but only barely. It doesn’t take long for you to pull him on top (the close view is to offline for), and drag him into a kiss. His spark pulsates like never before.

“Please, spike me,” you beg. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” He looks down at his spike. Then back at you. There are many things he’s learned as a nurse, one of which being: pick the smallest pair of forceps when operating on minicons. Sadly, he cannot replace his spike with a smaller one. But he can prepare you for the operation. “Hey, how about I get you started with something else before you get the hammer?” He lifts up the servo with functioning receptors and flexes his digits. “Promise you’ll rail me afterwards.” “Promise.” He grins.

He’s a denter first and all, but he’s always been careful with his servos back when brushing debris off his comrades after a busted demolition job. It felt like second nature to him. They were at the bottom of the scrapheap. Caring for others, even in small ways, made their plight bearable. His own at least. He pushes in, chuckling as you furrow your optical ridge, intake slightly agape. “Does it sting?” “No.” Another digit is carefully added. You whimper and grit your dentae. One digit and a half then. “What about now? How do you rate your pain on a scale of 1 to 10?” “Oh shut up…” Your tiny valve is absolutely soaked, slick with human lubricant, struggling to accommodate him. If you’ve taken the entire High Command, you can take him. Sure, he’s been told his spike is a “weapon forged by Solus herself”, but Megatron’s definitely bigger. And you’ve fragged him. Everyone knows that. Your valve’s more durable than it seems.

You clench around his digits, expression so lovely it’s clear you’re about to overload. He cautiously curls a digit inside of you. The gentle pressure’s an easy way to make your valve calipers clam down on him. Another whimper escapes you as he rubs at the spot. Your pedes push against his thighs, a desperate plea to stop. But he knows better. “Cute,” he thinks as your sweet noises intensify. He never expected fleshies to be so adorable – but then again, you’re not like the other squishies. Lord Megatron picked the best one. “Please,” you whisper. “This is torture.” “Aw, I thought you wanted to overload.” “You and I…” You swallow. “We both know damn well you’re teasing me. I need your spike, not… not this .”

He laughs. “I keep my promises, don’t worry about it.” He pulls you flush against him, legs over his hips. Bracing himself on one servo, he’s got an arm cautiously wrapped around your waist. “Comfortable? How do you rate your position on a scale from 1 to-” “Breakdown, I swear to fu-” “Got it. It’s hammer time.” He grins. You grip onto his digits and offline your optics. He pushes in. You suck in a sharp in-vent. He pauses.

“Go on,” you say after a moment. “I can take it. I guess I didn’t expect it to be so big.” “Big?” He blinks at you. “You’re the one taking Lord Megatron. He’s larger than me.” “Not his spike.” You chuckle. He looks up at the ceiling in wonder. “Wow.” “Wow indeed. Now please put that spike to good use.” Like a good soldier and seasoned interface partner, he follows your orders. Ridge by ridge, you take him, grip tightening and dentae gritting until he reaches your limit. He shudders. You’re clenching around him like a cold press, crushing his spike harder than any minicon valve. You seem on the verge of shutting down. “You okay?” “...yeah.” “Do you want me to stop?” “Don’t you dare.” “Got it.” His smile widens.

The pace is incredibly slow. Yeah, Knock Out likes having his circuits rearranged – and yeah, most vehicons he’s been with want to get railed into oblivion. But taking his time with you feels just as good. Charge is building along his array. He wants to tell you so many things – how you’re so beautiful holding onto him like he’s the center of your universe, whimpering and repeating his name listlessly – or how he wishes this could last forever, that he can forget the war when your arms are wrapped around his frame, no matter how small.

Your optics come back online and meet his. Wordlessly, you beckon him closer. He leans down, now bracing himself on his arm. Your servos find his face. “Have I ever told you how handsome you are?” you ask, nuzzling his cheekplate. It’s not the first time you’ve done so. But at this moment, either from mass displacement or the sight of you sprawled out before him (or both), his spark throbs in his chassis. His array is pulsating with charge. He presses his forehelm against yours. “Yeah. You always do.” “Good. Because I love you.” Your lips meet his. The charge explodes. Your valve clamps down on his spike. Sparks shoot through his sensors – his engine roars. The world stands still.

Then, he breaks the silence. “By…” his vox crackles with static. He recalibrates his vocalizer. “By Alchemist Prime…” there’s still a buzz to his words. “What was that?” “You tell me,” you answer shakily. Neither of you move for a while. Diagnostics report: Energon level: 87% He pulls out of you, earning a wince. You loosen your grip on his neck and fall back. His optics widen at the load of transfluid trickling out, valve still twitching. He feels equal parts pride and wonder something so small took his spike. Should he tell you about it? You appreciate greatly when he says what’s on his processor. Not everyone does. “Good job,” he tells you, petting your helm like the human he saw congratulating its furry companion. Your expression spells confusion. Then, you grin wider than he’s ever seen and pet him back. His engine rumbles in content. “I would die for you,” you declare without a hint of sarcasm in your vox. He laughs nervously. “Please don’t, Lord Megatron would kill me.” “Then I’d kill him first.” “But you’d already be dead.” “I’d come back as a ghost.” He laughs again, twice as nervous. “Anyway, was it… good?” “You blew my back out.” “I – what ?” “You rearranged my guts.” “Wait, are you about to offline-” “Human euphemisms.” “Oh.” “It means it was the best frag of my life.” “I… oh wow.” He allows you to pull him back on top. “You’re the best I could have asked for.” His cooling fans are blasting. “Um…” “You’re my favorite blueberry popsicle.” “Uh, thanks?” “I love it when you’re blue in the face.” More energon rushes to his cheeks.

“Oh, um – you too!” Frag - that didn’t sound smooth. He hasn’t been this bad since he was newly forged. “Raspberry and blueberry,” you press your helm against his. “My favorite mix.” You kiss him again, less desperately – finally satiated for the next cycle. Or at least a few groons. “Can you cuddle in this form?” Or…do you have to turn back?” He hits his chassis with pride. “Another groon won’t hurt me – I’ll do just fine..” “Aw hell yeah!” He lies down and you quickly take your place at his side, burying your face in the crook between his neck and his chassis. You let out a hum when his digits stroke your back. He can sense the minuscule hairs on your plating. They tickle.

A klik passes by, but you can’t seem to sit still. You push his arm away, readjust yourself, then pull it back in, only to start again a nanoklik later. “Everything ok?” You make a noise of frustration – so adorable it makes his spark ache.

“Give me a sec,” you mutter.

He watches as you get up to fetch your blanket and pillows. “Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I barely managed to clean up before coming over.” “Don’t matter.” You cover his side in them. “I just want to cuddle you.” He bites his glossa. You’re too sweet for your own good. Once comfortable, his servo comes back to stroke your skin. You shiver. “Are you cold? Do you want me to get the heating pad?” “No. You’re warm enough. It just… feels nice to be with you this way. I meant what I said. I do love you. Maybe not on Knock Out’s level – he’s known you before my great grandparents were even born.” He affectionately taps your helm. “I mean, yeah – but what does that have to do with us? Do you humans have a monogamous contract or something?” Your expression says it all. “Oh,” he drawls. “Uh – it doesn’t mean that you can’t be with us, it’s that-” “I’m Megatron’s first and foremost,” you say, looking away from him and straight at the wall. “I… yes. But I mean that-” “I’m together with everyone. I know that.” You turn your attention back to him. “And no, it doesn’t bother me. I simply want to give you the praise you deserve. And the energon. Man, you need that so badly.” Resting your helm atop his chassis, you flash him a warm smile. “I love you. Don’t you ever forget that.”

#transformers x human #transformers x reader #transformers prime #valveplug #maccadam #tfp breakdown #tfp breakdown x reader #heatverse

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pukefactory · 3 days ago

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HELLO!! May I please request some Bobbette x reader headcannons?

Of course! I hope you enjoy these headcanons.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮ CHERRY LEMONADE ✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖

❆ Summary: A compilation of headcanons featuring Bobette as your girlfriend

❆ Character(s): Bobette (Dandy’s World), Coal (Dandy’s World)

❆ Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, SFW

❆ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

❅ Bobette is already a cheerful and friendly toon, but with you, she’s the sweetest companion imaginable. Caring, inventive, and always by your side, she wants nothing more than to spend time with you and spread holiday cheer. Lively and upbeat, she makes it nearly impossible to stay upset when she’s around.

❅ One of Bobette’s favorite traditions is enjoying cookies with a warm cup of hot cocoa, and naturally, she wants to share that with you! With Tegan’s help, she prepares a big plate of cookies and two oversized mugs of hot cocoa, topped with cream and marshmallows—the full works. The two of you cuddle up, savoring your treats and each other’s company. It’s not unusual for you both to drift off during this, with Bobette’s arm around your shoulder as you rest your head against her chest, peacefully napping together.

❅ As a toymaker, Bobette is extremely busy around Christmas, crafting toys to fulfill children’s wishes. But even though she’s the best at what she does, she still appreciates an extra pair of hands. When you offered to help, she was over the moon! She loves having you by her side, even if it means things get a bit messier than usual, with paint scattered everywhere. Over time, you become more skilled, and together, you both produce toys far more quickly than Bobette could on her own. With your help, her work feels even more special.

❅ Speaking of presents, Bobette often gives you gifts she made herself. Whether it’s a toy you specifically requested or something as simple as a new blanket, she always manages to create or find exactly what you wanted—and you couldn’t be more grateful. Bobette makes sure you never go without, and seeing your face light up with happiness and surprise makes it all worthwhile for her. Just be prepared—sometimes, she might give you a few too many gifts!

❅ Being Bobette’s partner means you are partially responsible for looking after Coal, especially when she isn’t around. Coal tolerates you as much as she does everyone else—except for her owner—but she is a bit warmer toward you than she is with others. When Bobette is too busy, it’s up to you to take Coal on small walks and help her move large crates of toys. Of course, she probably likes you more than most because you regularly give her favorite treats, making you very popular in her eyes. Your girlfriend truly appreciates your help with Coal, and you always get plenty of kisses from her after she sees how well her pet rock has been cared for.

❅ It’s probably no surprise that Bobette’s wardrobe consists entirely of Christmas-themed sweaters. However, nearly all of them are at least slightly itchy—if not unbearably so. Neither of you knows why, but they always seem to irritate her skin. As a surprise, you got her a stack of new, non-itchy Christmas sweaters made from the softest, most comfortable material you could find. Needless to say, Bobette was elated and gave you a bone-crushing hug. From that moment on, she only wears the ones you gave her.

❅ Another one of Bobette’s favorite festive activities is making gingerbread houses, and what better way to make it even more fun than doing it with you? She carefully lays out all the supplies before you begin, and it isn’t long before you’re both covered in brightly colored icing, your hands and aprons a complete mess. No matter how much effort you put into decorating, the house always seems to collapse under the weight of gumdrops, peppermint swirls, and mountains of powdered sugar. After a moment of staring at the sugary disaster, you both burst into laughter and give up, helping each other clean the icing off your skin. Her kisses tasted especially sweet that day. You both agree to ask Ginger for help next time.

❅ After finishing her toy making, Bobette loves nothing more than to snuggle up with you and Coal under a warm, cozy blanket. You’re well aware—probably even more than she is—that her constant work leaves her completely exhausted and maybe even a little stressed. You can see it in her eyes; something always seems different once she’s done. Of course, you’d never stop her from doing what she loves, but you make up for it by ensuring your shared bedroom is as comfortable as possible. Soft Christmas lights, freshly baked treats, warm cocoa, plush blankets, and an especially cozy Coal all make her heart swell with happiness. So, you always make sure everything is just right before she returns. She rests easily, comforted by the love and care you put into making her feel at home.

❅ Bobette loves telling you about her adventures with Coal—how they delivered presents in blizzards, how she got frostbite, and how she came so close to meeting Santa himself. Oddly enough, she only seems to share these stories when you’re settling in for bed, which can be a little frustrating since her voice is so soothing that you always fall asleep before hearing how they end. Fortunately, you still remember every detail of each tale, no matter how many times she retells them. Especially the one about Coal dragging Bobette through the snow in a sleigh—you’d love to recreate that someday, even if there’s no snow.

❅ Bobette often attaches a sprig of mistletoe to the end of her hook to steal as many kisses from you as possible—and you fall for it every time. Not that you mind the extra affection, but she loves pulling you into an impossibly tight hug and covering your face with kisses until you’re too breathless to protest. When she finally lets go and you gasp for air, she giggles, apologizes, and insists that you’re simply too cute not to smother with kisses. Honestly, you can’t argue with that. You do love her kisses, after all.

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livesworthlivingau · 3 days ago

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Lives Worth Living Chapter 36

ISAT and Two Hats spoilers below! CW: Mentions of Death, Fear of Mortality.

Gotta be honest, not suuuper happy about this chapter, but it's at a point where I'm okay with it and I just kinda need it out of the way so I can move on with the rest of the fic.

(Siffrin) |Isabeau|

"You... You died? Like really actually died?..." (Isa asked with a mortified look, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth as you explain the events of the last loop.)

"Y-Yeah... Vale saw me, just lying there... and I... I saw something weird after... something I'm scared might have been real." (You continue your story. You hated putting this burden on him, but having to explain this to everyone else would be too much for you to handle right now. You sit alone together in your tent once more as Vale went off to have a moment to themself before the bomb dropped.)

"Saw something? Like... like after you died?" (You respond with a hesitant nod.) "... Was that why you woke up like that?" (You nod again, taking a deep breath before you continue.)

"... I saw the island... I saw the King... I started to remember it all, everything... it all vanished when I woke up but... I didn't want it! I didn't want any of it! Not if it meant I'd lose all of you!" (You realize you've started shouting again a little too late, feeling tears pouring down your face again before Isa grips you in a tight hug to help calm you.)

"Shhhh, it's okay Sif. It's gone, we're all here, you haven't lost us, and we haven't lost you." (He sighs out, you can tell he was saying it for his own sake as much as he was for yours. You grip back tighter and nuzzle close.)

"I love you Isa..."

"I love you too Sif." (He replies in kind before gently kissing the top of your head.)

"Uhm... Siffrin? Isabeau? Is everything okay?" (Mira's voice calls through the thin tent walls. You figure you got a bit too loud...)

------------------------------------------------

(You mumble and grumble under your hat as you hug yourself in your cloak, forming a make shift little tent out of the two while secluded in the larger tent, and still it didn't feel like enough to cover your shame. You made Isa do your dirty work again... you're such a coward... No! No, that's not true. Isa offered, he knows you're going through a lot and is happy to help. Stop being so hard on yourself, it's okay to need help! You mentally shout at yourself, trying to practice better self talk like you learned so long ago.)

(You decide to make better use of your time, digging out the little bird plush you were crafting for Isa and going back to work on it, softly mumbling your little request to the universe.) "Please be cute, please be cute, please be cute."

---------------------------------------------------

|You sit in the middle tent with Odile and Mira as you fill them in on everything in slightly hushed tones.|

"What do you mean it wasn't him that looped?" |Odile raises a brow, you can see all the various theories in her head shattering and reforming into new ones from that single statement.|

"I mean just that... Vale said they saw Sif... y'know... and they looped shortly after. Sif was talking about a dream he had during it, said it felt real, said he saw the island, the king, started remembering stuff... I don't see why Vale would lie about something like that, and from how shaken up Sif was, I think that was more than just a dream..."

"B-But then what does that mean?! Why wouldn't Siffrin be looping anymore?!" |Mira asks in a panic, while Odile just silently thinks to herself, hand on her chin.|

"I don't know... But with any luck Odile will have it figured out by the next bar we reach!" |You tease to help relieve the tension, causing Mira to snort in a laugh and Odile to give a slightly annoyed smirk.|

"You're really never going to let that go, are you?"

"Nope! Besides, as important as this is to figure out, we still have our plan set. We get to Bambouche, then we start to figure all this out. Right now we just gotta try and be there for them, the both of them. That means no bombarding them with questions about all this right now, okay m'dame?" |You give a playfully stern look at her with a waggle of your finger. She lets out a laugh before sighing.|

"Fine, fine. You're right, not a good idea to interrogate someone in a crisis anyways."

"What about Bonnie? Are we just going to keep this a secret from them?"|Mira asks, not liking the idea. Before you can respond the tent flap shifts, letting light pour in past a small silhouette. You sigh softly.|

"I was gonna say it's not like we could if we tried... You heard everything, didn't you Bonnie?" |They step inside from the light, their face twisted in a mix of emotions but clearly trying to fight it all back, wanting to seem grown up. They give a little nod.| "You okay?..." |They hesitate before nodding a bit heavier, still trying to act tough. You place a hand gently on their back.| "We're gonna figure this all out, and Sif's gonna be okay, I promise!"

"Do you want me to help you make breakfast, Bonnie? I'm sure Siffrin will feel better about all of this after a meal!" |They sniffle and nod, wiping the slight tears they were fighting so hard to keep back.|

#lwlau #lives worth living au #isat #isat au #isat spoilers #isat fanfic #in stars and time fanfic #two hat spoilers

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nipotazzi · 2 days ago

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Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow. - Chapter 1

"C’mon, Lusk! It's just a little jump!”

“We’ll be here to grab you in case something goes wrong, sweetie!”

The little child looked all the way up there: his mothers were just ahead, he only needed to make a smooth super jump to reach them. He tries to calculate the distance and necessary strength for it, but for some reason, the results are utterly inconclusive.

“No silly math! You just have to do it!”

Silly? Math isn't silly. Still, maybe momma Pearl was right: he just had to try it, if he wanted to succeed.

Lusk takes a deep breath, one of the first behavioral lessons given him by the creator to ease himself to calm… and begins to run, faster and faster with each consecutive step!

Halfway through, he quickly changes into his very small swim form, then charges the tentacles like a spring… and jumps!

He makes sure to not use his floating abilities in this form to cheat, and while taking this precaution Lusk realizes that he's already far, far high in the air: He's so much faster than gravity! He can do it! He can reach them!!

He's… slowing down.

He can't do it.

That shouldn’t have happened. It wouldn’t have happened if…

No. Take a deep breath.

Smollusk knows that they will just say something along the lines of “better than nothing at all,” and that he’ll “get better at it in no time, you just need to try it more.”

Disheartened, but resigned to such a result, like always, he begins to float towards them in order to avoid the fall.

But something tugs his tentacles.

He looks down, and sees a chain, as long as his sight can go, attached to his body.

Lusk immediately tries to slip away from it, but nothing happens. His small size cannot handle the sudden extreme weight brought upon it. He searches upwards, starting to grow scared, but the only thing that exchanges his pleading eyes… are the disappointed and clearly annoyed looks on the faces of his mothers.

“C-creator! CREATOR!! HELP ME!”

“...why?”

“W-what?”

“Yeah, why should we?”

Lusk freezes, terrified of the cold tone of her creator.

“Look, Marina! Little kid can't even make a jump this easy. I'm soooo embarrassed to think that we’ve been taking care of such a monstrous failure.”

“Oh, Pearlie, no need to be so rude. We all know that this… mistake… is just one delusion after the other.”

“N-no! No!! I'm not a mistake! I-I’ll be better, I promise! Please!!”

“Are you crying now? Tsk-tsk… how pathetic. Let's go, Rina, don't even look at it.”

“Make way… I don’t want to stay a millisecond longer than I need to.”

“NO! WAIT! WAAIIIITTT!!!”

Lusk falls down, the chain trapping him tighter. It's a bottomless fall, where his screams could echo for eternity. There is nothing else, but the weight of his failures, bringing him down.

Rating:

Not Rated

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories:

F/F

Gen

Fandom:

Splatoon (Video Games)

Relationship:

Marina/Pearl (Splatoon)

Characters:

Agent 8 (Splatoon)

Dedf1sh | Acht (Splatoon)

Pearl (Splatoon)

Marina (Splatoon)

Order | Smollusk (Splatoon)

The Heavenly Melody (Splatoon)

Additional Tags:

Christ(squid)mas special

half wholesome half angst with a good ending

self trauma due to personal delusions

Angst with a Happy Ending

Family Feels

Family Bonding

Family Drama

Family Dynamics

first time moms

Post-Splatoon 3: Side Order

Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Language: English

Summary: Pearl and Marina are always trying to be the best moms a kid could ever wish for, and if there is something that they really don't want to mess up… is their Lusk's first experience of the most wonderful time of the year! But will the family be able to help him work trough his own fears at the strongest that they have ever been?

Happy New Year everyone! As always, comments, reblogs, and feedback are appreciated. Have a good day!

#writing #fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 link #splatoon #side order #pearl houzuki #marina ida #pearlina #off the hook #agent 8 #acht dedf1sh #smollusk #symphony in fortissimo agitando

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walking-loather · 5 months ago

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When it comes to hygiene tasks and self care with disability and chronic illness, its pretty much a constant case of: don't let perfect be the enemy of the good.

Basically: it's better to do something, than to do nothing at all.

TLDR: Just because you can't do something "properly" doesn't mean you shouldn't do it at all. Do it half-way. Do it shitty. Do it barely. Do it on a technicality. But do what you can. Just try, because doing something will help you.

If you don't have the energy to scrub your body with a sponge, just rub soap over your skin with your hands.

If you don't have the energy to wash your whole body with soap, just hit the places where sweat accumulates, or where you're smelliest.

If you don't have the energy to wash with soap AT ALL, just sitting in water is better than nothing. It will wash away dirt and oils.

If you can't bathe or shower at all, a warm wash cloth is your new best friend. If that's too much, then try bath wipes. They're a bit bigger than regular wet wipes, and a bit more heavy duty. They're designed to help keep bed ridden patients clean in hospitals.

If you don't have the energy to dry yourself after a bath or a shower, just put on a bathrobe and get into bed. If you don't have the energy to get dressed afterwards, just don't. It can wait until you can.

If you don't have energy to brush your teeth for two minutes, honestly, just a cursory scrub is better than not doing anything.

If you can't brush your teeth twice a day, brush in the evenings. It will help take away the build up of food from the day.

If you don't have the energy to brush AT ALL, honestly, just take a cloth and wipe the plaque off your teeth. Rinse with mouth wash after if you'd like. Something is always better than nothing.

If you can't floss twice a day. Try once. If that's too much, try a few times a week. If that's too much, try setting aside a day once a week as a goal. If you can't keep a schedule, do it when you're able to. Hell, I keep some floss next to my bed so that if I forget and don't have the energy to go get it, I can just reach over.

If you can't iron your clothes, don't bother. Wrinkles are fine. Wear jumpers over wrinkly t-shirts. No one will know, and honestly, most people won't even care. If it's really wrinkly and it's A Big Deal And It Needs To Be Ironed, here's my life hack. Step 1: take a spray bottle, and spritz the item of clothing (while you're wearing it is easiest) until it's lightly damp. Step 2: use a hair-dryer on the clothes until they're dry. It gets rid of creases like nobody's business, it's easier than lugging out the iron and ironing board, and you get to have nice toasty warm clothes afterwards.

If you can't fold your clothes, try just hanging them up. It's less commitment. It's quicker to do. Granted, you need to have the space in order to do this, but it is also good at helping you downsize, and lets you visualise exactly what you have.

If you can't put your clothes away, invest in a couple of laundry baskets, and then just keep your clean clothes in the baskets. You can then separate washed clothes into underwear, pants, and shirts baskets. You can just leave them like that. I'm giving you permission to never fold your laundry again if you can't. Just leave it unfolded. Who's going to care? Something is better than nothing. If you can, try to put those baskets into your closet so that you can keep the clutter out of sight, and give yourself a more restful environment.

If you can't separate your clothing out into different categories and wash them "properly" (whites, warm tones, cool tones, darks, delicates / switching between hot & cold washes / paying attention to laundry instructions on the label) then just don't worry about it. If you cold wash your clothes, colours won't bleed. Maybe gradually over the course of dozens of washes there'll be some changes in hue, but it's really not as high stakes as the One Red Sock In The Whites Turns Them Pink trope makes it out to be.

I've pretty much come to the point in my life where if a piece of clothing can't survive the washer and dryer, then it's just not meant to be. I colour separate my clothes, and if I have the energy/remember I'll take my bras and jumpers out of the washing machine to drip dry. But otherwise, I leave it to the universe.

If you can't separate out your recycling, then don't. If you have a large amount of rubbish you need to get rid of but the idea of separating it out properly is stopping you from doing so, then just don't worry about it. I know it's not ideal, but if you have garbage in your room/house and you need to get rid of it, please just get rid of it. Don't let the problem get bigger and harder to deal with. Don't let "doing something properly" get in the way of keeping your living spaces clean. Please. Give yourself understanding.

If you can't wash your dishes, get paper plates. Obviously, it's not ideal, but it is better that you eat food than skipping meals. It is better that you have a clean kitchen, rather than having dishes piling up and making it harder to look after yourself.

If you can't prepare meals for yourself keep making the tasks easier and easier. If you can't do recipes, then simplify. Use pasta sauce from the jar instead of making it. Eat canned soup. Buy food you can just stick in the oven. If you eat fish fingers and microwave veggies every night, it's better than not eating anything at all. It's better than having to fork out money on take-out. If you need ready-made meals, then get them. If you're literally just eating a raw cauliflower for dinner; 1) I see you, 2) me too, sis, 3) something is better than nothing.

These are the basic things you need to do every day to function as a person. They are your activities of daily living. Brushing your teeth. Bathing or showering. Using the bathroom. Getting dressed. Eating. Drinking. Sleeping. Keeping your environment clean. You don't need to do these things perfectly, but they need to happen in order for you to have a decent quality of life.

And it breaks my heart, because I know that so many disabled people can't do these things every day. I'm not saying this to guilt or judge, I'm saying that these are basic needs; you deserve these things. These things bring dignity. If a disabled person is unable to do these things, it diminishes their quality of life. It robs them of dignity.

If you need help to do these things, Its okay to ask for help. It's okay to need help. But if you can't get that help and you have to do these things by yourself -- or you just plain want to be independent and do it without help-- then don't hold yourself to standards you can't meet.

Don't let perfect be the enemy of the good. Doing something is always better than doing nothing. Even if it's not perfect. Even if it's not done well. Do what you can.

#lord knows that im still trying to pull myself out of the muck and into independence and dignity #i had to set a rule for myself that i need to wear clean clothes every day. and that i need to wear pyjamas to bed #that one's been hard. sometimes I dont have the energy to do it and i just stay in the same clothes for two days at a time #or i go to sleep in what i was wearing. but when i do follow that rule my quality of life is drastically better #not feeling dirty or gross goes a long way to making you feel more like a person #i also made a rule that im not allowing myself to look frumpy outside anymore. that means clothes that look nice #no more trackies and pj pants and all that stuff. i basically lived in perpetual pyjamas for four years and im over it #i still dress comfortably but the important thing is that i dress. i look put together. i wear things that make me happy #(and i didnt need to buy anything to do so. i just needed to start taking better care of myself)#and i stopped letting perfect be the enemy of the good. i started doing things shitty rather than not doing it at all #and the more i keep pushing with my ADLs the better i feel #what helps is now i dont have to contend with stairs and that has made a dramatic change to what im able to accomplish #ive also finally built up enough strength in my body that im able to go to the shops by myself. so i can buy things to make easy meals #and mum doesnt mind if i just put some things in the oven or air fryer for us for dinner.#i still cant really cook. i felt bad about that for the longest time. i didnt even try bc i knew what id make would be disappointing #or it wouldnt be up to the standards of what everyone else was making. i was so sick of feeling like a let down all the time.#now i just make what i can and my mum doesnt complain bc shes in the same boat.#and yeah. having help would be nice. it would mean id be able to do more than what i can do by myself.#and its great to see how far ive come. but im not a burden. and when i have the accommodations i need i can do a lot more #i do something rather than nothing and my life has dramatically changed since then. ive just gotten better and better.#chronic illness #disability #chronic pain #spoonie #one things for certain and thats that im never going to let myself rely on anyone else ever again.#i never want to be on the other side of that ever again. I don't want to be anyone's burden. i dont want that hanging over me #i do things by myself or i dont do them at all. and god fucking willing i'll never go back to needing as much help as i used to #i really didnt realise just how much of an obstacle living with stairs was in my life. it was the biggest barrier against everything #stairs stopped me from being independent. if i couldnt traverse them i just didnt go anywhere. my world shrank so much #and not having the proper wheelchair shrinks my world even more. im stronger than i used to be but im still severely limited in where i go

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leori-the-unlearned · 1 month ago

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the way digimon does conflict/drama between two characters who should be or are close: chef’s kiss <3

the way sonic idw handles creating conflict/drama between two characters who should be or are close: *wilting flower*

#keyword: adding #in digimon conflicts come about as a result of independent viewpoint differences #ie takuya vs kouji. taichi vs yamato #or (since i just watched 02:the beginning) lui and ukkomon’s conflict is SO GOOD #it BUILDS to something. lui and ukkomon’s disagreement builds up to: they need to communicate. they both come from a good-faith angle #ukkomon so desperately wanted to make lui happy and failed to look closer to see what WOULD - and lui didn’t know how to express #what he actually wanted to ukkomon. or try to reach out to ukkomon in turn instead of basking in his life finally going ‘right’#but then not as much in idw gives me that good feeling of ‘ahhh they built to this and it is so nice’#or when conflict is created it isn’t because despite best efforts people clash and have to work together #it’s when someone does a stupid and someone else has to pick it up #it means a lot when you see kouji driven to press takuya to the wall and see them shout at each other #because they both have to realize that with words they will never convince the other of their viewpoint.#even though they both think the way the other looks at things will get the group killed #and of course it makes sense that the group would follow takuya. he’s their heart. their core #takuya’s the reason tomoki stayed in the digital world and junpei and izumi find confidence being there because he’s there rallying them #and in this case that good trait winds up being wrong. he gets everyone captured by the enemy and thinks theyre all better off if he wasn’t #part of the group from the start. but THAT isn’t true either - he just needs a BALANCE of his excellent helpful determination and willpower #and seeing things as they are and not as he believes them to be - more like kouji #he WAS wrong but not for HAVING the traits he had - for leaning too much on them #or (also going to a media im currently engaging in) sundered star. things go bad between people a LOT but it’s not frustrating.#it’s SATISFYING/ENGAGING seeing feferi leave eridan and watching eridan go insane and give in to the horrorterrors. of course it couldnt-#-go any other way for them. eridan wouldnt change until he realized he could lose feferi and feferi wouldnt bring him any real consequences #-to make him consider that until she was leaving and would never come back. and it was never her fault that leaving eridan lead to-#-catastrophe and devastation. it just happened as a consequence anyway #anyways i guess. if i see the characters do their best and things still fall apart it’s better than #seeing an idiot plot or characters written to be worse than they were to make conflict happen #with takuya he wasn’t suddenly bad or misjudging everything. he just didnt have to deal with negative consequences for misjudging before-#-because they hadnt met someone like duskmon that they COULDNT eventually beat before. even gigasmon who wrecked them all at first-#-was beaten once they had beast spirits and were on equal footing. so takuya assumes the same for duskmon without realizing that #they arent on the same level. so the issue didnt come from nowhere - it just comes to a head now

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nobodybetterlookatme · 3 months ago

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I've never heard of emts working only at events? What's that like for you if you don't mind my asking?

Yeah, there are ambulance companies that staff certain events, but there's some event specific companies out there lmao. For me specifically, it's almost entirely college events, whether it's happening on a campus or not. It's not great, usually pretty boring, but it's better than being on an ambulance or in a hospital. We do get actual emergencies sometimes, but usually it's just getting drunk people to the tent or giving out water and bandaids lmao. Again, boring as fuck, but I chose this over working on a 911 rig, so that's on me 😔 if I'm being so real tho, other than my coworkers, the best part of the job is the food lmaoooo it's so good and all the food trucks/food booths give discounts or free food to us depending on the location and event. And there's almost always a ton of downtime, so I basically just get paid to sit there and vibe for the most part

#not snz #when i say i love my job i mean i love very specific parts of it lmao #idk if I've said it here before or not and this is gonna sound so bad coming from someone working in healthcare #but i don't like patients lmao #i love the book stuff and i love everything in theory and i know how everything works and I'm very enthusiastic about it #but man do i not like patients ahskaksk #there are exceptions obviously but those are few and far between #it's why i love being an emt at my fire station bc we don't reslond to medical calls #like I've done medical calls there for the public but very rarely bc people either approach us or we stumble upon them #so i really only do my emt things on the people i know and i love that #i love my coworkers so I'm always happy to make sure they're okay and help them out when they're not #but i feel nothing for the public and i didn't realize i genuinely couldn't care less about them until i started doing my clinicals #it's just awkward and I'm not invested in them i just like figuring out what's wrong with them and interact with them as little as possible #again there are exceptions and i do like some of the patients but generally I'm just trying to hand them off asap #so yeah i do like working events bc the alternative is being confined to a tiny box or trapped in a hospital #i like being outside and being able to walk around the place and do things if i want to #and obviously i adore my partner #and even on the rare occasions i work with someone else all day i love my other coworkers too #and i mean yeah this might be more boring than working on an emergency rig However #it pays so much better #like why do y'all think my medic partner works there lmao he's actually good with patients and prefers the ambulance #but the pay in the field is shit so he gets paid way more working events than he would at the three letter company #insane actually that he makes over ten dollars more an hour working chill events than he would being overworked on a rig #anyway i digress #I'm looking into pathology assistant school rn bc there's like no patient interaction there but i still get to be nosy #so that's perfect for me lmao #everyone keeps saying i missed my calling as a vet tho like i don't cry when a dog dies in a movie lmao i wouldn't survive #working with animals would be amazing but the only thing that really gets you money is being a vet #so that can be a hobby

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ourladyoftheflytrap · 2 years ago

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literally when I see women being frustrated with other women for staying with abusive men I feel like I'm watching the ouroboros. Like I get it, it happens to everyone, I've been there, but it's so self sabatoging.

#don't come at me if you're one of those girls currently angry at her friend for continuing to date an abuser after you and everyone else #told her not to #I spent 7 years watching different men beat my mother and I've had a lot of friends who faced very different kinds of abuse from other men #so when I say your anger is not constructive believe me because it is my anger too. and I know it hurts and I know it can drive you insane #but when your friend Sees that anger it will hurt her in a way you cannot understand. And if you are hurting her while you claim to love he #while you claim to have her best interests at heart -> then she cannot differentiate between the way you treat her #and the way her abuser does. And I know that's not fair I know it's not the same #And I know you probably care for her in a way her man does not. But when you tell her what to do she doesn't see You.#She sees the man who tells her what to do and how to live. She won't listen to you over that man because you sound the same #You sound eerily similar but he is manipulating her and you are just angry and upset. He will always seem to offer the better deal #so just don't be that angry friend anymore. Be an open door she can walk through whenever she needs a break from an evil man.#Be the life she Could have if she really believed she deserved it. Be good and respectful and supportive even when you feel like killing hi #show her how Everyone should treat her. Show her she deserves to be treated good; show her it is no problem for You to treat her good #And she Will start demanding that from men. From everyone. But she will do it on her own time #With her own setbacks and she will set her own standards. They might never be your standards but they will be better than what they are now #but first you have to be supportive and not angry. You have to root for what She wants and not for her relationship to fail #Even if you really truly hope the relationship will fail. You have to convince her that you want the same things she wants #You have to convince her that you want her to be happy no matter what that looks like. And Then she will ask you #To help make her life happier. And in my experience; that is the only way to truly see someone get to a better place #You have to help them get what they Want. This is way harder than being angry. Insanely harder. But I have seen women change a Lot #after I stopped feeling angry over them. After I stopped trying to convince them that I know what is best for them

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humanityinahandbag · 3 months ago

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I'd like to tell you all a story about my grandmother.

My grandparents raised their children, four girls (one of them my mother), to be fighters. My aunts marched in Washington for women's rights with babies strapped to their chests and like to joke that all of the grandchildren who came from that line (including myself) were born with picket signs in their hands.

But it started with my grandparents. They fought hard for what they believed in. They marched against Vietnam. They marched for Martin Luther King. They marched for women's rights. They marched for a better future.

But let's talk specifically about my grandmother for a moment.

My grandmother unfortunately passed away in 2016. She had to watch the first Trump election and did so knowing that it would probably be the last election she'd ever see. And there is some argument there that she could have given in to fear and defeatism. She could have decided none of it was worth it, and she could have decided that fascism had won and the world was over.

But she did something else instead.

To give some context, my grandparents had friends who were Republicans. I say were, because they shifted from the normal Republican towards the MAGA Republican we see today. And despite a very clear message from my family about how we felt, they were more than ready to still come to the funeral as if everything was normal. Like their beliefs were normal. Like they were welcome to celebrate someone who had fought so hard for the rights of other people.

These were people who would have absolutely used their rhetoric to scream and shout if they were left out or disinvited.

And so my grandmother, even past her final moments, pulled the most brilliant, petty move I've ever seen.

She'd decided ahead of time that everyone who had known her was more than welcome to attend but that she wanted everyone attending the funeral to donate money. That was the requirement to be invited. And so everyone did just that. There was no talk about what the donations were for, just that they were appreciated. I want to say that the assumption was the money would help pay for funeral expenses and give the family some support while we grieved.

Except that wasn't the case.

Because in those final moments of the funeral, the rabbi stepped forward to thank everyone, and then very cheerfully announced;

"Arlene was so happy to know just how many people were coming to join us here today. She couldn't have been more proud of her family. And I'm sure she would have been elated to see just how much money you all gave today to Planned Parenthood."

When I say that the faces of those people are enshrined in my memory, I mean it. The anger, the devastation, the rage, the betrayal. It was an absolutely gorgeous display of true defeat at the hands of a boss ass old lady who literally fought with her last breath and threw up both middle fingers all the way out the door.

What I'm saying is this.

It is very easy to feel defeated. It is very easy to think that everything is over, and there's nothing left for us to do. It's very easy to say that fascism won, that fear won, that hate won.

But that's only true if you let it be true.

There is always more that we can do. There is a future that is still worth fighting for. And it's more than possible, even when it doesn't seem like it.

And fighting is going to look different every time.

Some days it will look like picket signs in our hands.

Some days it will look like spending time with friends and family and people you love and knowing that you have a community that supports you and your vision of a brighter future.

And some days, it's pulling absolute natural level 20 petty trickster shit even after you've left the world.

Because you can always make an impact and you can always add a little brightness to life, and if that means tricking a group of MAGA idiots into throwing their money behind Planned Parenthood in the middle of your own goddamn funeral then that's what it means.

Keep fighting. People have done it before you. People will continue to do it after you.

And enjoy the little victories.

(Even the petty ones)

#us elections #equality #equal rights #protesting #picketing #fighting #we can do this #we truly can #take a break and then keep fighting

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tonycries · 10 months ago

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Whiskey, Neat, With a Side of You - T.F.

Synopsis. When your date stands you up, you’re lucky that the hot bartender is more than happy to keep you company!

Pairing. Bartender! Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, strangers to lovers, unprotected, pússydrunk Toji, cúmplay, oral (female + male receiving), créampie, some heinous things with pantíes, dirty talk, spitting, whískey, neither are drunk, absolutely filthy, pet names (doll), swearing.

Word count. 4.6k

A/N. Was originally gonna be Nanami but Toji mmmm

“So, that date of yours is late, huh?”

You don’t know what shocks you more - the question, or the voice from behind the counter - so very deep, tinged with just a bit of amusement.

Tearing your eyes away from the clock at the other end of the bar, it takes a second - and one look around the almost-empty room - for you to realize that shit the hot bartender was talking to you. Sputtering out a quick, “Oh, yes, um-” quickly reading that faded nametag, “-Toji. He’s a bit late.”

The man in front of you raises a brow, dark green eyes locked on the way you shift in your seat. He seemed a bit older, and - you gulp, eyeing the way his arms flex as he fumbles with the shaker - so undeniably attractive. Plowing on obliviously, “Boyfriend?”

You sigh, pinching your nose, “No, some guy from a dating app. It’s supposed to be our first date.”

“First date?” Toji lets out a low whistle. “Way to make an impression, dunno what type of asshat would keep a pretty lil’ thing like you waiting.”

Cheeks flaring, you don’t know what it is about him that makes you want to defend yourself, but it doesn’t matter anyway - because whatever rambled excuse gets stuck in your throat at the sharp scrape of glass against the counter. Large hands gently placing a pretty pink daiquiri in front of you, Toji gives you a reassuring nod. “S’on the house till that dumbass shows up. Until then, you can keep me company, doll.”

Playing with the straw between your fingers, your eyes flit to the clock again - 8:10pm.

Well, there was still time. Right?

Nonsense, maybe.

Because it’s around 10:21pm when you conclude that no, there really wasn’t still time, and your date seemed well and fully intent on completely embarrassing you. And now, him still nowhere in sight, lips a bit looser, you were having the time of your life complaining all about it to Toji.

“-no, I swear.” you groan over his low chuckle. “He really gave me the ‘sorry, my dog ate my keys’ gem. And you know the best part?” Beckoning him over to whisper conspiratorially in his ear - heart stuttering at the heat of his proximity, “The man doesn’t even own a dog.”

Shaking his head, Toji seemed like he was drinking in your every word. “Classic. If yer gonna be late, at least make it interesting. Like, ‘I accidentally joined the circus on the way here.’”

“Mhm, I’ll have to keep that in mind for my next no-show date.” you grin, suddenly feeling a lot lighter than you were a few hours ago. Nowhere near tipsy, but definitely high off the conversation and the addictive scent of his cologne - the expensive kind that left you wondering whether all of him smelled this delicious.

“Or better yet, you could spend your time with someone who actually knows how to keep you entertained rather than some scrub.”

Snapping out of your little reverie, lifting your head just fast enough to catch the little smirk tugging Toji’s lips. Managing to grit out, “Smooth, huh?”

“Just sayin’.” he hums, before turning his back to organize the glasses on the shelf. And you can’t help but traitorously admire his broad shoulders, cursing that t-shirt for being so goddamn tight that you could see the way his muscles ripple with each movement.

“Besides-” Catching the tail-end of Toji’s question, “-neat whiskey for all the failed dates?”

You chuckle, “Ah, I really shouldn’t, the other customers will probably-” your sentence dies in your throat as a quick glance at the empty room showed that everyone else had eventually left - leaving just you. And Toji. Damn. Slow day, huh?

“Well, doll?”

Heaving out a shaky breath, you nod. Eyes zoning in on the way he expertly handles the glasses, so dizzyingly inviting. It makes a sheepish smile play at your lips, letting out a quiet little, “Despite all the shitty dates, I’ve actually never had whiskey neat before.”

Oh? That made him pause. Eyes widening ever-so-slightly as he sets down the glasses and leans in a little closer, breath hot against your face. “Never?”

“Never.”

“Well.” Toji muses. “This overpriced shit can’t be your first intro to neat whiskey. If you’re up for it, I’ve got a special 1926 Macallan stashed away in the back n’ can get it for us?”

Oh. Maybe it was that slow, silent grin that curls his lips, that sinful little scar moving as he does. Or maybe it was the way he places a hand on the counter to stare down so heavily at you. Probably it was just him - because you find yourself batting your lashes so deceivingly innocently, “Or I could just go with you?”

And shit if there was ever a time where Toji was sure he met his match then it might just be right now. Because that sultry lil’ smirk on your lips was killing him, making such a carnal little part of him twitch so dangerously. With a heavy nod, you’re following him through the dimly lit bar.

The back room is more of a VIP room than anything - cozy, lined with shelves of alcohol and leather furniture. Heady with the liquor and something so so Toji.

You’re halfway through reading the title of a wine you could barely pronounce before he’s letting out a grunt of satisfaction from behind you, “Excuse me, doll.” It’s all that’s said before Toji’s pressing up against you. His muscular arm just inches from your head, reaching for something from the very top shelf. And oh you could feel his abs rubbing up against your back, so warm and-

And then he’s pulling away.

It was quite hard to stomp down the disappointed whine that almost leaves your throat, and if you didn’t know any better you’d have said something about the amused little glint in his eyes. Smug bastard knew what he was doing.

Instead focusing on the way he turns to show off a bottle with a deceivingly innocent reverence. “This is going to be a real treat.”

Well. Two can play that game.

“Is that so?” you tilt your head, reaching out to grab the bottle neck, with not as much care of concern as you should have considering this was a million dollar whiskey. Swiftly unclasping the lid, focused only on the way Toji’s breath hitches as you fist his t-shirt in your other hand to pull him close to you - so close.

Close enough that you could count every shade of green in those half-lidded eyes, long lashes fluttering as your breath fans his face. “Such a shame we didn’t bring our glasses, huh?”

Oh the devilish grin that splits across his face sends such delicious shivers down your spine - Toji gets your drift. Of course, he does. Because he’s squishing your cheeks together in an almost-embarrassing pout, fingers searing on your skin, lips ghosting yours, “Yeah, real shame.”

Immediately bringing the bottle to his mouth, letting the burning liquid pool on his tongue, he spits into your mouth, once. Twice.

A steady stream of whiskey, and spit. It tasted just like the acrid alcohol and sin. And Toji.

And it was so messy, smearing across your lips and trickling down your chin. Tilting your head back, you let it flow down your throat obscenely. Locked in his greedy gaze as you loll your tongue out to show off the way you’d swallowed everything he gave.

“Maybe I do like neat whiskey.”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him because fuck Toji was intoxicating and just there. That little scar rubbing against your lips as he devours you so sloppily, all hard muscles and heated skin underneath your fingertips.

“Fuck.” he hisses into your open mouth. Setting down the whiskey God-knows-where near the couch to pick you up like a ragdoll. Drinking in the cute lil’ gasp that leaves you as you wrap your legs around his slutty waist. Groping and kneading every inch of skin he could reach. “How ya likin’ the Macallan, doll?”

“A ‘real treat’.” you mimic his earlier words, voice slightly broken as you feel his rock-hard cock through your wet panties, throbbing angrily against your cunt. Fuck, would you even be able to take him all?

“Oh yeah?”

And before you can react you’re being pushed against the hard wall. Toji’s lips dizzying on yours, fiddling with that godforsaken clasp on the back of your tight dress.

“Shit.” he groans impatiently, wedging a knee between your legs, grinding against your wet pussy. “Such a delicious meal all f’me but I’ve gotta get through this- fuckin-” rip! “-dress”

Well, you expected your dress to end up on the floor somewhere, just not like this - tattered and hitting the ground of this back room behind the bar, faster than your jaw. And so do Toji’s - pupils blown, eyes hooded as he takes in the heavenly view in front of him.

Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, licking like he couldn’t stay away. “Shit, doll. You were gonna wear this pretty lil’ number for that loser?” he sounds genuinely confused. Immediately tweaking and rolling your swollen nipples through the sheer fabric. “M’so fucking glad that bastard doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

“T-Toji- ngh-” you mewl, as he lets your bra fall to the ground. Taking in one tit in his mouth, swirling his hot tongue around your areola. “Wan- wan’ more-”

“Now now,” he tuts mockingly, delicate strings of spit connecting him to your breasts. “S’rude to be the only one drinking. Unless…” Toji looks up at you through his thick lashes, “You wan’ me to drink in that pretty lil’ cunt of yours?”

And shit that sounded like everything you ever wanted right now. All you can let out is a delirious little nod before Toji’s dropping to his knees. So hard you wonder if it hurts - and maybe it’s the liquor, probably it’s the way he’s drunk off you - but he doesn’t give a fuck.

“Yeah, atta girl.”

Pulling down your panties in one, fluid motion, he tugs them underneath your legs, disappearing between his own, fumbling with his waistband. And if you angled your head just right you could see the slightest glimpse of Toji fisting his cock. Soaking your already-wet panties with his precum.

“Aw, look at the way she’s so wet f’me already.” he coos at your dripping cunt. Absolutely obsessed with the way you’re so drenched for him already. Slick beading through the flimsy fabric at each hot breath, oh Toji has half the mind to just take you right here, right now. But no, he wanted- needed a taste. Doesn’t think he could live without it. “Wonder if she tastes just as sweet as she looks.”

Whatever retort on the tip of your tongue is cut off by Toji burying himself face-first in your pussy. Licking a long, languid stripe up your swollen folds, pooling your slick on his tongue.

But it wasn’t enough - it might never be. Because one taste of your pretty cunt and Toji is hooked.

With a low groan, he’s spitting a steady stream of spit onto your quivering pussy. Spreading it with his thumb before he’s diving back in nose-deep. Snaking a hand down to draw frenzied little circles on your swollen clit, letting your juices glisten all down his wrist.

“Taste s’fuckin’ good. Fucking sweet.” So hot and maybe you should’ve gotten an inkling with how sloppy he was with the whiskey - but Toji was so fucking filthy. Your slick glossing his face so prettily, smearing right up to his nose and dribbling down his chin. Lewd little squelches deafening in your ears.

“Ngh- Sh-shut up-”

“Shut up? Can’t shut up, doll, m’drunk on this sweet cunt more than I am on whiskey.” he mutters into your folds. “My favorite taste. Got me addicted, huh?”

He huffs out a dark laugh into your pussy, taking in that cute lil’ embarrassed expression on your face. Throwing one of your legs over his sculpted shoulder, Toji bullies his soft tongue into your snug cunt, past that delicious little ring of resistance.

Making out with your pussy deeper. And his tongue was so long - perfectly hitting your sweet spots, licking all over your plushy walls. Thrusting in time with his thumb drawing on your clit, in and out in and out in and-

“Fuck, I could get used to this. Have you for breakfast, lunch, n’ dinner.”

His words were so dirty, but Toji looked so pretty stuffing his face in your cunt. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, dark strands of his hair sticking to his forehead. Tilting his head just so that your sweet sweet juices slide down his throat.

It’s what has you tugging in his hair to angle him just right, using him like your favorite toy. Such cute lil’ whines of his name leaving you each time his tongue grazes that one spot that has you keening and bucking into his mouth for more more more-

“Fuck fuck fuck jus’ like that- Ah!” you let out such pretty whines, words slurring together. Delirious little ones that go straight to Toji’s achingly hard cock, angry and twitching in his fist. So needy and glistening with precum in the dim lighting.

Shit, Toji thinks he could cum at just that, which is why he’s lapping at your cunt even greedier, drinking you in like a madman. Fingers so deftly toying with your pretty clit, making you putty in his hands. He has to make you cum. Now. Or else he’s gonna fuckin’ embarrass himself in front of such a goddess.

“Oh? So drunk on m’tongue, already, doll?” he chuckles. “Can’t speak?” Vibrations sending white-hot jolts of pleasure up your spine. It has you dragging your cunt so sloppily all over Toji’s face - and he likes it. Loves it even, only speeding up his movements. Even when his jaw is aching, walls sucking him up so desperately that it was almost difficult to eat out your pretty lil’ cunt. Even when your sweet juices are dripping down to the hardwood floor in a sinful little drip! drip! drip!

“I- ngh- m’gonna-”

“Gonna what? You can handle whiskey, you can handle using your words, doll.”

“Cum!” you yelp, “M’gonna cum Toji- ah- feels t’good.”

And that’s exactly what he liked to hear because Toji only gets sloppier. Alternating between stretching you out on his tongue, sucking on your clit, licking everywhere. Over and over-

“Then cum f’me, doll.”

And you are - fast and hard. So hard that you don’t even realize when you’re rocking your hips all over Toji’s face. Cunt fluttering around his tongue as if you were trying to suck him up - and he lets you.

“Fuck. Sweeter than I imagined.” he’s slurring into your cunt. “Jus’ like that- yeah, ride out that pretty lil’ cunt on m’face.” Words muffled as he tonguefucks you through your high, stars behind your lids every time he flicks at your pussy.

Distantly, you hear such embarrassing little whimpers of his name in time with the sinfully wet groans from below - ones you realize are yours only when you’re blinking back your vision. Heart thundering, pathetically trying to catch your breath.

The first thing you hear is Toji’s little chuckle, followed closely by a lewd pop! that has you whirling to look at him down below.

“Wh-wha-” and all you can let out is a strangled little oh! at the sight before you - Toji licking his fingers clean, sucking all your sweet juices like he couldn’t get enough. Even when he’s flashing you a devilish grin around his fingers, rising from his position on the ground to cage you against the wall.

“Told ya m’addicted, doll.”

Your back hits the soft leather before you even realize what’s happening. Bouncing at the sheer force of the throw, you gasp in both shock and at the audacity of this man.

“Toji…” you warn as he looms over you on the couch, yet it comes out more breathless than you intended. But looking at him there - straddling your hips, pants pulled just below his heavy balls, tugging and teasing his rock-hard cock like he was trying to fuck something delicious out of it - how could you be blamed, really?

He was so big. Pulsing wildly in his fist and just soaked in precum - all the way from his pretty pink tip to the tufts of black at his base. Not quite wild, not quite tamed. You cunt clenches in- anticipation? Fear of not being able to walk for the next week?

And in the haze of your orgasm it takes you a second to register the flimsy panties wrapped around his hand. Rubbing against those prominent veins on the side as Toji fucks his fist. So wet and ruined that you almost didn’t recognize it.

“Jus’ think of it as repayment.” he grins, following your line of sight.

You scoff, eyes still traitorously stuck on his throbbing cock. So massive and mouth-watering that it makes you wish he used you instead of those panties. “Those were expensive y’know.”

“I’ll buy you new ones. Four. In the color of my eyes.”

“How about…” you flash him a sultry smirk, urging his hips to shift higher. And by the amused quirk of his brow, you knew Toji liked where this was going. “I can repay you another way.”

And before you knew it, his pants are thrown to God-knows-where, and you had two, muscled thighs straddling your face. Toji slaps his swollen cock on your face once. Twice. “Think that loser was this big?” Thumbing your mouth open as he grazes his weeping tip across your lips, glossing them so prettily. Precum salty on your tongue, all filthy and dripping down to your chin.

“Open wide- Fuck. Tha’s it-” he hisses, brows furrowing as he stuffs his fat head into your hot mouth. Eyes rolling to the back of his head at the way your lips bulge around him, flicking at the sensitive tip. And it was so delicious, Toji couldn’t decide whether he liked eating you out or this more.

“Shit, doll.” he grunts, hips fucking into your plushy tongue in shallow, quick little thrusts. “Taking me so well, huh?”

You didn’t know if you were - lips stretching obscenely around his thick cock, tears clinging to your lashes. Choking and gagging around his length in a way that made Toji twitch inside you. Shit, he liked this - liked seeing you like this. And as soon as the realization hits you, you’re moaning around his cock, making Toji’s hips stutter above you.

Toji has to fight off that part of himself that just wants to paint your mouth a sinful white. Fuck his cum into your till it’s all you can taste - all you can feel.

“Shit. You little minx. Ah- s’heavenly around me ngh-” pressing your head down till all the way till your nose is flush against his pelvis, balls twitching against your chin. Finally bottoming out and fucking your mouth in harsh, long strokes. “Fuck- Wonder if that pretty lil’ cunt of yours is gonna take me t-this well, huh?”

Oh does he love your smart mouth - but he loves it even more when all he gets in response is wet gurgle around his cock. Looking up at him so tearily and shit he could get used to this sight. “M’gonna take that as a yes.”

And then he’s speeding up, balls squeezing so painfully. God it’s so fucking hard to look at you too - precum and spit bubbling sloppily at the corners of your mouth, makeup so messy and fucking gorgeous to him.

“Can feel m’self riiight-” Reaching out a hand to wrap around your throat, feeling his dick bulging in and out in and- “here.”

Moving faster so he can ruin your pretty face. It’s so sloppy the way your spit glistens down his length, using your swollen mouth as he pleases. And you’re so eager to make him lose his mind too that it has been fucking into you like a toy.

“Ya like this? Like me using your pretty lil’ mouth like oh- it’s a fucktoy? Oh fuck, doll.” he groans, running his mouth like he’s drunk off yours wrapped around him. “Gonna paint that pretty mouth of yours white if y’don’t stop now.”

And shit if he knew those words would have you eagerly bobbing your head to meet his hips a little slut then he’d have said them a lot sooner. Trying to get just a taste of him. Mascara runny now, swirling your tongue around his leaking tip every time he hits the back of your throat, so hard that it’s probably sore and bruised. Toji almost feels bad.

…

Nahhh

Pulling your mouth off him, muttering low and dangerous. “Told ya to stop now, didn’t I?”

And oh he hates to cut off that cute lil’ whine spilling from your kiss-bitten lips, but shit Toji’s losing his patience and his sanity with each passing second that he isn’t stuffing his cock in your pretty cunt.

Toji backs up, swiping a thumb under your lip, sucking off the remnants of his precum before capturing your lips in a searing, searing kiss. Tasting you and himself and you-

“Liked the Macallan, huh?” Reaching blindly for the bottle of whiskey, taking a deep swing. Spitting it back into your mouth because shit you looked so pretty swallowing it all up. Rutting his hips into yours, sliding his throbbing erection in between your swollen folds. Collecting your sweet juices on his head, drinking in your adorable gasps.

“T-Toji.” you whimper, hips bucking up wildly. “Just fuck me already, goddamnit.”

And then he is - pressing his fat tip into your sloppy hole. Inch by fucking inch. Not even thinking of easing into it because fuck he needs it. He needs it-

“-s’bad. Ah-” Toji drawls against your lips. “Wan’ed this ever since y’walked in through that damn door.” A mess of spit and alcohol and precum - it made you feel so dirty, dirtier than the pressure between your legs as he bullies his heavy cock into your snug pussy. And all you can do is fucking take it because Toji was so unrelenting.

Thrusting in shallow, mindless little thrusts to just fit himself inside you - and you already feel like you’re being stretched to your limits. Whimpering out a tearily little, “Are you at least ngh- halfway in yet? Oh-”

If Toji was any lesser man he’d just have split you apart on his cock right now, but no. Instead settling for a smug little, “Nope”, popping the p.

But that doesn’t stop him from wrapping two arms around your waist, sitting up on the couch with you splayed out so prettily on his cock. Pulling you, squeezing his dick into your soft cunt, sliding down, down, down.

“Ah! Ah- shit shit shit s’too deep, ngh-”

“No such thing as ‘too deep’, doll.” he clenches his jaw. Hands pushing your thighs apart even further as you’re split apart on his cock. “You jus’ hafta sit there all pretty n’ take- it-” Each word is punctuated by a harsh thrust.

And Toji’s manhandling you around while bouncing you on his dick. Drawing unhurried little circles on your clit while trying to find that one spot he knows you’d love more than any whiskey or drink. Looping a strong arm to arch you into his body and-

“Fuck!” you keen, hips grinding sloppily to milk his cock as much as you could. Walls clenching so sinfully and shit-

“Found it.”

And then it was like something snapped - because all of a sudden Toji’s no more playful teasing and letting you have your little fun. No, he’s fucking you like a man possessed - thrusting his cock up into you. All the way from his weeping tip, till his balls smack your ass. So hard he’s sure they leave such a shameful mark for tomorrow. Hitting that spot over and over-

“Aren’t ya glad you chose to ah- s-stay with me?” he hisses, throwing his head back. One hand rocking your hips deeper the other becoming faster and faster on your poor, ravaged clit. Driving you crazy. “Fuck that date ditcher, y’look all pretty like this for me.”

“Yes yes yes- s’glad.” you manage to sob out. Voice shaky and hitching at the way he was bouncing you on his cock with reckless abandon. The lewd squelches and skin-on-skin filling the heady room, making your head spin so much that you barely hear Toji’s words.

“I’d make a much better date. Hngh-” he lets out a guttural groan as your nails rake his back. Fingers on your clit becoming more and more frantic. “Would buy ya flowers n’ a-all that shit. Show up on time, all dressed up.” Drinking in your lewd little ah! ah! ah! every time he milks himself on your sloppy pussy. But oh maybe Toji was a talker when he was drunk because he wasn’t done yet.

“Make all those other scrubs fuck- jealous. And then-” Hips stuttering and so so sloppy. “Hah- at night- m’gonna fuck you dumb just like this.” he gasps, sounding like he was at the end of his sanity. Losing it bit by bit every time his veins rub so deliciously against all the right spots that make you see stars.

Losing his sanity especially when you whine out such a cute lil’ noise of agreement. “Fuck m’close. Wanted this too, huh? I saw the way you’d been eyeing me all night.”

You can’t even be embarrassed about being caught red-handed, only looking up at his pretty face with delirious heart-eyes. Too cockdrunk and delirious at this point. And, well, maybe it’s the alcohol in your veins because you’re grabbing at the shiny bottle on the seat, bringing it to your lips. The bitter taste barely hitting your lips before you’re meeting his. Making out as sloppily as he was ravaging you below - all teeth and whiskey and pure filth.

And that answers his question.

Messy and desperate.

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same - clamping down so sinfully on his aching cock. And shit it’s so heavenly that it sends him over the edge as well.

Toji cums, and keeps cumming so hard that he can see the way his seed was gushing out of your poor, overfilled pussy. Especially not when his thrusts get sloppy, thick cum spilling all over your pretty cunt. Purposely not pulling out like the mean bastard he is to paint your walls a sinful white

Over and over, forming a wet little patch on the couch that he knows he’ll have to worry about later. But right now he doesn’t give a fuck because your bloated and so prettily all covered in his seed.

Leisurely, he pools the cum trickling out of your cunt on his fingertips, not even wasting a second before stuffing them in your mouth, pushing through your swollen lips. And you don’t complain - not at all. In fact, you’re sucking it all up eagerly. Looking Toji straight in the eyes while you swallow it all.

“Hmm, not as good as the whiskey.” you tease. Letting yourself be yanked into his body, as he grins against your lips.

“For that, m’keeping the panties.”

---

“Toji…” a low voice rings through the closed bar. Shiu sounding like he’s absolutely at his wit’s end as he continues, “Where the fuck is our 1926 Macallan?”

The man in question was staring suspiciously giddily at his phone - either having not heard what Shiu said, or he just couldn’t give a fuck anyway. And knowing Toji, it was probably the latter.

A warning. “Toji I’m serious, that shit costs over a million dollars.”

“Yeah yeah, congratulations or my condolences but hey, do you know any great flower shops?”

A/N. I don’t even like whiskey so much, it’s just the thought of bartender! Toji that has me feral.

Plagiarism not authorized.

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