#I've never really vented in a space like this before

[dragoninahumancostume]

My favorite part of being alive is that I've never felt welcome in any space except for that one year when I thought I was a non-binary bisexual asexual girl when I was 13 :)

[taegularities]

.

[our-inspire-verse]

Just keeps going round and round eh?

[noxtivagus]

hdflkjasdklf i'm just thinking of certain characters n stories hehe

[pinkanonwrites]

Repaying The Favor

G1 Rumble/ Mechanic Reader - 4600+ words NSFW, Valveplug, Miscommunication, First Time, Oral Sex, AFAB Reader - They/Them Pronouns for reader

The sequel to "Oh! That's What That Does?!" is finally here! Same reader, same Rumble, same trying to figure each other out, only this time they get to slam down crazy-style about it. When will Frenzy get his turn in the spotlight? Eventually, I think! Maybe once I've finished a few other pet projects.

NSFW WRITING BELOW THE CUT!

It had been exactly fifteen days since you had last heard from Rumble. 

Not that you’d been counting.

Sure, the cassettes probably had more important things to do than lounge around your workshop waiting for your attention, but that's exactly why it was so odd. They always had better things to do, things that they were pointedly avoiding doing by barging in on your work and taking up what little free space the shop had remaining. But since your little tryst with Rumble, you hadn't seen armor nor optic of any of the usual cassette bot suspects.

Maybe you'd broken some sort of ancient, space robot taboo that you'd never heard of. Or maybe Rumble was just embarrassed that he jizzed all over your jumpsuit. Either way, it wasn't like you had any way of getting ahold of them besides them dropping in, so there wasn't much to be done about the situation but wait.

You were leaving the corner store when you heard it, the cacophonous boom of a jet flying far too close to the tips of the skyscrapers overhead. The sound sent you reeling, bags crumpling to the sidewalk as you hurried to cover your ears. Down the street you could make out the screech of metal smacking against metal, see the flailing limbs of two massive robots staggering clumsily through the street as they traded blows with each other. Neither of them were one you recognized, the red Autobot with the oversized chest window wrestling one of the identical jet Decepticons into a clumsy headlock. As they stumbled about one of them trampled on a car parked along the curb, and you winced as the metal shrieked and crumpled under his massive foot.

Yeah, time to get out of here. You gathered up your bags and ducked into the alley between the buildings, slipping past trash bags and old graffiti, trying not to tread in any unidentifiable puddles. Off in the distance you could hear an emergency siren start to wail, hopefully signaling that whatever the space robots were quarreling over this time would be settled sooner rather than later. All you really wanted was to get back home without any further interruptions.

But as you emerged from the back alley entrance and found yourself hoisted into the air by two massive metal hands around your waist, you'd decided to kiss that chance goodbye. Your bags clattered to the ground once more, bread and fruit and canned goods spilling out around a familiar pair of pedes. When you glanced up to his faceplate, the glow of his visor was nearly enough to blind you.

“Rumble?!”

His visor dimmed enough that you could see his intake, which had just before been pulled into a maniacal grin, drop open in visible shock. Then, as quick as it came, it was gone, replaced instead with a tight, furrowed frown. 

“What’re you doin’ out here?” He barked.

“Buying food. Or trying to, at least.” You glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Ravage pounce on that yellow Autobot with the horns that was always showing up in the news. “You guys having a little play date or something?”

He scoffed out a laugh, quickly stifling it with a clearing of his vents. “Whatsit matter to ya? Didn't think you cared dat much about lil’ old me.”

“Rumble, what…?” Was he seriously pouting? Or maybe trying to guilt trip you? For what, making him cum? “What are you even talking about? I haven't seen you in like, two weeks.”

“Aww, real funny! You know what I mean! I let you poke around in my chassis and run up my charge, an’ after that it's radio silence? Whaddya humans call it… ghosting? Make a mech feel like second-rate shareware, why don't ya?”

You blinked at him once, twice, mind spinning as you tried to process his words.

“Are you- are you mad I didn't call you?”

His optic lights beamed as he bristled, armor flaring with a hiss before clamping tight back to his frame. “I told you to comm me!”

“Rumble, I don't have your number! I couldn't call you even if I wanted to!”

His grip went slightly slack as he stared at you, leaving you dangling from your armpits like a cat. 

“I… I hailed you my frequency. In da EM field.”

“Humans don't have… whatever that is. Do you have a phone number?”

He stared at you again, much longer this time as the discordant crashing of giant metal men continued in the background. Then, with a sudden jolt, you were slipping free of his fingers as he dropped you unceremoniously to the pavement. It wasn't a far fall, just enough to make your feet tingle upon landing. When you looked up you saw he had both servos covering his faceplate, a string of muffled curses eking out between the digits.

Your mind was reeling. He actually wanted you to call him? To… repay the favor? Heat pooled in the pit if your stomach as your mind conjured up wicked memories of his stifled gasps and whimpers, how he’d squirmed beneath you as you prodded around his spark chamber. How behind all the billowing and smashing and Brooklyn-accented bravado, when you got down to the core of him, he was actually kind of… cute.

“You- just- I don’t- Get outta here! Go on, scram! Before you get stomped on or somethin’!” His face plate was flushed and glowing as he shooed at you. You would go, that was certain, you really didn't want to get stepped on after all. But first you were going to say something potentially risky, deeply embarrassing, and undoubtedly very, very stupid.

“Come over.”

His optics shuttered, flickering for a moment as he stared down at you, frozen.

“What?”

“Not right now. Tonight. When you guys are done getting wailed on? Come over.”

He opened his intake, then closed it. When he opened it a second time you caught a wisp of steam slipping through the gap in his dentae. He swallowed, hard. He never stopped staring at you.

“...Y-Yeah. Yeah. Awright. I'll be there.”

“Cool. Watch out for the yellow guy.”

“Huh-HGGRRK!?!” You stumbled back a few steps just in time for the Autobot to chuck Ravage directly into Rumble’s helm, sending him crashing into the brick wall beside you.

“Sorry! Are you alright?” The little Autobot called. “You should probably get out of here!”

He didn't have to tell you twice.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The news was just wrapping up their coverage on the ‘latest Decepticon assault’ when you heard a rap on your warehouse’s roll-up door. There wasn't much to see peering out the window, the street only haphazardly illuminated by old street lights. Not that you really needed to look, there was only one guest you were expecting at this time of night anyway. 

You'd stopped at home first, mainly to take a shower and put on something that wasn’t a pair of mechanic’s overalls. But for some reason the nerves hadn't hit you until right now. You clamped down on the prickle of… anxiety? Excitement? Somewhere between the two? As you pulled the strap at the base of the roll-up, the groan of shifting metal slowly gave way to reveal…

“Are you wearing a bowtie?”

“Not bad, eh? Don't say I never cleaned up or nothin’. Here.” As Rumble stepped from the dark street into the light of the warehouse he pulled something from his subspace: a large, green bottle that he offered to you pinched between two fingers. A bottle of wine. Judging by the label, an expensive bottle of wine.

“Where did you get this?” You turned the bottle over twice in your grip, scanning the details on the back. French Merlot, aged… fifteen years? Holy shit.

“Dat fancy Italian place on the corner of Fourth and Vine! What, ya don't like it?”

“I didn't say that!” Rumble positively beamed as you clutched the bottle. “I just didn't expect it, is all. Are you… wining and dining me right now?”

“Is dat a good thing or a bad thing? Your human movies said you’re ‘sposed to bring a little somethin’ somethin’ before, y’know,” There was a sly, lopsided charm to his grin as he pulled the roll-up back down with his pede, clanking shut behind him, “Before you let me run your charge for a change.”

“You know, you don't have to try so hard to im��press… me.” You trailed off, staring down at the bottle in your hands, then back up to him, then back at the bottle, then him again. When you made eye contact with him the slyness seemed to falter a bit, leaving behind something softer in his smile. Something a little more vulnerable.

 How did it take this long for it to click for you? He was wearing a bowtie, for Christ’s sake. 

“Oh my God you're trying to impress me.”

“Eh?” A fidgeting servo tugged at his bowtie- which appeared to be made of… an old seatbelt? “Nah, you're crazy! Dis is jus’ what humans are ‘sposed to do!”

“Oh my God you are!”

“H-Hey, what'd I say about you and gettin’ big ideas?” He tried to deter you, but your mind was already racing a mile a minute. 

“Do you actually like me? Like, want to date me? Do alien robots even date, cause I didn't know th- MMPH!”

With a massive metal palm pressed to your chest, Rumble pushed you back into your adjustable work table, still sitting at a mostly upright angle from the last time you'd repaired him. The table against your back was cold, a sharp contrast to the radiating heat from his servo as he pinned you in place with his hand. His face was inches from yours as he leaned over you, visor now gleaming with frustration and embarrassment.

“You can't get enough of dis, huh? Like pushin’ my buttons so much?” His servo pinned you down just a touch harder, forcing the air from your lungs in a breathy wheeze. “‘Oh, it's so fun to get Rumble all flustered! Lemme mess wit’ his head a lil more!’ Well maybe it’s Ol’ Rumble’s turn to do da messin’ around, huh? See how you like it when someone’s toyin’ with your sensitive bits.”

He bared his dentae as he spoke, another hiss of steam curling around your cheeks. It made your hair stand on end. A hot thrill ran through you, and you fought the urge to let your knees knock together, confident that Rumble would be able to keep you in place with brute strength alone. You could feel his thumb smoothing back and forth across your shirt, and as he glanced down at his servo the glare of his visor lessened slightly.

“...Why’s your fuel pump goin’ all crazy? You scared or somethin’?”

You swallowed a mouthful of saliva, willing your foggy mind to function. “Not… Not scared, exactly.”

There were a few seconds of tense silence, before the wickedest, prideful grin crept back up across his faceplate. 

“Oh? Is dat so?” His other servo rose to grip the top edge of the table, fingers molding to fit the dent he’d left there previously as he loomed over you. “Well maybe we oughta do somethin’ about tha- SCRAP!”

His flirtations were cut short by the sharp SNAP of the stabilizing lock on your workbench failing under Rumble’s weight and flipping 180 degrees over. The world pitched and spun as you tumbled backwards, yelping as the table flipped and deposited you upside-down on the floor, legs sticking akimbo in the air. From between your dangling feet you could see Rumble peering over you with his sly expression wiped off his visor by one of concern.

“Slag! I didn't crush your little pedes when you flipped, did I? Cause I don't no nothin’ about fixin’ up injured squishies.”

Miraculously, you had managed to make it through that ass-over-elbow fall without hitting your head on anything, or Rumble accidentally pinning your legs in place between his bulk and the table frame. “I’m alright! Just didn't expect it, I’m okay.”

“Dat’s good. Here lemme jus’-” You felt a servo close around each of your ankles. With an effortless tug Rumble dragged you back up, tabletop tipping with you as it clunked back into its standard, flat position. Of course, this now left you with your ass and legs dangling off the edge of the workbench, Rumble standing between them with a servo resting on each knee. “Better?”

You sucked in a breath, trying desperately not to look overeager. “Better.”

“Ah, slaggit all…” But instead of putting his servos back on you (where you most certainly wanted them) Rumble began to scratch at the back of his neck, failing to meet your gaze. “Guess I ain't really cut out for all this… whaddaya call it? ‘Winin’ and dinin’?’ Can't even get my servos on ya without fraggin’ it up.”

“Hey, I’m definitely not complaining.” You attempted a jokey tone, but it didn't seem to do much to dampen Rumble’s current self-deprecation. You let the playful edge fall away as you dropped into something a bit softer. “I mean it though. You don't have to try to impress me. I mean it's appreciated! But, y’know, I wouldn't have agreed to this if I wasn't already happy with the bot I was getting into it with.”

“Heh. Even if I end up crushin’ you a bit?”

“That's a risk I'm willing to take.”

He barked out another laugh, accompanied by a coil of thin steam hissing through his gap-dentae. “Well I guess I better make it worth da risk, shouldn't I?”

He snuck a servo under each of your knees, pushing them apart as he rocked his modesty panel against your clothed core. You stifled a gasp, the ridge of sturdy metal almost hot against you, even through layers of cotton and denim. The slow roll of his hips made your own stutter up off of the table, desperate for further friction.

“Cute. You like grindin’ on my panel? Should I make you bust jus’ like this?”

Despite the warm curl of arousal pooling in your stomach from the feeling, you knew this wouldn't be enough to get you off. Rumble seemed to know it too, letting out a low, pleased chuckle at your desperate expression.

“Jus’ yankin’ yer crankcase, sweetspark. I got somethin’ a lot more fun in mind for tonight anyway. Dat is, if you'll start gettin’ dese off.” He hooked a digit through your belt loop and gave them an experimental tug.

“Mmh, what, you don’t want to take them off yourself?” 

“Oh, I’ll gladly take ‘em off ya. Just figured you’d take care of dis part here…” His thick digits slid inward, ghosting over the button of your jeans. “So I don't gotta rip ‘em off ya instead.”

You weighed your options. On one hand, the image of Rumble tearing denim apart with his bare servos as if it was no more than wet tissue paper was far more appealing to you than you would have originally expected. On the other hand… well, they were new jeans.

“I got it.” You mumbled, quietly filing the image away in your brain for later use as you undid your button and zipper. “Careful with th- Oh!”

With a sharp yank, Rumble tugged your jeans and underwear off your legs and let them crumple onto the floor. Shoving himself into the space between your knees, you could only barely make out the top of his helm over the slope of your stomach as he knelt before you, spreading your folds with two digits and… staring.

You waited for a response, a quip, the slow drag of metal over your slick hole, but were instead greeted with silence. Something prickled in the pit of your stomach as you fought the urge to squirm. In the back of your mind you vaguely remembered that you hadn't really gotten to see what Rumble was packing, and only now were you grappling with the truth that you were trying to have sex with a truly alien being. Would your bodies even be compatible? Was he weirded out right now? You tried to pull your knees together, only to be stopped by a rough servo shoving them back open.

“...It's rude to stare.” You muttered.

“EY! I ain't starin’! I'm, uh, admirin’. Dat’s it.” There was a similar tightness to Rumble’s voice. You shuddered as a thumb stroked the crease of your thigh. “Soft… An’ it's supposed to be dat pink?”

“Y-Yeah… that's, mmh, normal.” You shuddered at a wave of steam curling over your sensitive heat as he spread you again, visor locked on your twitching entrance.

“Primus. And you're really gonna let me spike ya in this tiny little hole?” You could feel his thumb just brushing the rim and stifled a groan at the sudden, aching emptiness, the demand to be filled. “I don't wanna tear you in half or nothin’.”

“It’ll fit.” You whined, core tensing around nothing. “We’re, unh, we’re pretty flexible. C’mon, Rumble…” You forced your knees further apart, pushing your hips up into each of Rumble's far-too-light touches. His motor snarled in response, a massive hand gripping the inside of each of your thighs.

“Slag. You're really achin’ for it, aren’tcha?” His voice was lower than you'd ever heard it before, deep and resonant and primal. “But I ain't gonna give it to ya dat easy, doll. Gotta make sure you can take it first.” 

He raised his helm for just a moment, just enough for you to get a peek of his beaming visor and his wicked, gap-toothed grin between your legs. Then he descended, lathing his thick, hot glossa up the length of your cunt. You choked on a gasp, his servos the only thing keeping your hips from rabbiting up off the table. It was hot, his glossa thick and sturdy and drooling with oral lubricant, a thin layer of silicon over sturdier metal mesh dragging up through your folds.

“Easy, sweetspark…” You weren't the only one enjoying themselves. Rumble's low, rattling groan pulsed through your cunt. You swore you could just barely make out him groaning your name but it was lost, muffled as he pressed his faceplate further between your legs and his servos shivered where they gripped your thighs. He was messy and all too eager, arousal and oral lubricant spilling down his chin as his glossa stroked you; slow, deliberate drags up your folds until you were left dripping. At the apex he found your clit and took it between his dermas, a teasing hum rattling throughout his engine that had you gasping, thighs clenching around his thick helm. Your legs jerked as warmth bloomed outward from your core, hips writhing against the onslaught of pleasure. Dragging across his back your heel caught in a rounded divot, pulling a raggedy vent through Rumble’s dentae as his frame twitched.

“”Mmpfh!~ E-Ey, watch da spindle. It’s sensitive in dere…” He groaned, face still pressed into your cunt, servos only dragging your ass further off the table in his efforts to get somehow even closer to you. But instead you dug your heel in harder, pressing into the ridged divot and twisting your leg. The internal ring jerked with a sudden CLICK CLICK CLICK, each pop of noise making Rumble’s frame spasm like he'd just been electrocuted. “FRAG! Primus, that’s- ghh!~”

“Feel good?” You teased, breathless. His optics beamed back up at you, an oscillating, glistening red as you caught another peek of his gap-toothed grin from between your legs.

“So dat’s how you wanna play dis? Don't say I didn't warn ya, doll.” 

You barely had a chance to respond before the noise was punched out of your lungs in a sharp whine as Rumble shoved a thick, metal digit into your drooling cunt. Achingly hard, unrelenting, he flexed it against your rippling walls as his dermas nestled themselves snugly around your clit. The hum reverberating through his frame coursed through your body like a wave, hands scrabbling desperately at his helm as the twinge of pain at the sudden intrusion melted into thick, syrupy pleasure. 

“A-ah, fuck! Rumble, Rumble that's good, that's fucking good.~” Metal clanged as you lolled your head back against the table top, no longer able to keep it upright. Each drag of his digit, textured and ridged and unrelenting, sparked euphoria behind your eyelids. You felt every muscle in your body starting to prickle with pleasure, radiating outwards from your cunt and pooling in your head, your stomach, the tips of your toes…

You all but whined when he drew his digit away, dermas releasing your swollen clit with a slick pop. “C’mon! Rumble!”

“You want it dat bad, huh?” A shadow cast over your rumpled form as Rumble rose to his full height. From between your legs you could catch a glimpse of silver and blue panels fluttering and folding away, one of Rumble’s servos hiking the underside of your knee and the other stroking the gap between his thigh and pelvic armor as his spike rose to full attention. Christ, he was huge, the thick metal rod draped across your lower stomach as he rocked experimentally against you. Each thrust had the tip drooling a translucent, pinkish fluid you remembered scrubbing from the back of your jumpsuit, hot and vaguely smelling of well-oiled machinery and pooling across your bare stomach.

Rumble, for his part, seemed to be as entranced as you felt, visor vibrant and flickering as he stared down at the place his frame rubbed against your soft, supple body. A harsh ex-vent punctuated each roll of his hips, steam coiling around the corners of his slack, open intake as he pulled back, letting the tip of his spike slide wetly through your folds.

“Dat’s it, doll… You're gonna get exactly what you want. Gonna get you bouncin’ on dis spike, jus’ beggin’ for it…” His tone was low, entranced, just barely tinged with desperation. He dragged his tip through your folds again, and again, covering your cunt with his thick transfluid, making your breath hitch whenever he slid over your clit just right. You angled your hips up, guiding it right over your entrance, toes curling at the promise of pressure. 

But before you could utter his name again, or any other placation or demand, you felt the heavy press, the slow, aching slide as he entered you. It teetered just on the edge of pain, muscles twinging at your inner thighs as you forced your legs wider to accommodate his bulky armor. And his spike offered just as little give, covered with a thin layer of silicon like his glossa but still distinctly sturdy, inflexible metal. Your walls rippled helplessly around the intrusion, stretched to a delicious degree as he bullied his way inside you.

About halfway to being fully sheathed in your heat he paused, visor hazy and unfocused, intake still hanging open as he vented steam. A servo was resting on each of your hips, but while one stayed in place the other slid up, up, bunching your shirt around his digits and shoving it up above your chest. There his servo paused on your side, his massive thumb stroking back and forth over your nipple, quickly pebbling under the cool metal.

“Primus.” He breathed, distinctly softer than you ever remember hearing him before (and oh, if that didn't do just as much for your arousal as everything else). Finally, his hips began to move again, that intoxicating ache only beginning to border on near-unbearable when you could feel your ass and the backs of your thighs smushed against his pelvic armor. For another moment he paused, one servo cradling your hip and the other your chest.

Then he drew back, and thrust home.

The first thrust forced the air out of you in a desperate, sharp wheeze. This didn’t slow him, not in the slightest, digits sinking into the plush meat of your hip as he jackhammered into you. Each thrust had the entire table rattling, the sharp clang of metal against metal where his thighs hit the dented table’s edge. His quiet reverence had given way to an onslaught of erotic babble, visor locked on your face as it twisted and furrowed in pleasure.

“Takin’ it so fraggin well… You’re just made for takin’ my spike, aren’tcha?” He scooped his servo under your hip and lifted you further up, all but folding you in half as he loomed over you. His dermas brushed the curve of your jaw, just below your ear, and you could feel the heat of his ex-vent making your skin tingle. “You’ve jus’ been waitin’ for me to frag you stupid, plug up that achin’ valve til you can’t think of nothin’ else.”

“Mmmh…~ It’s so big.” You slurred, thighs slick with sweat and slipping on his plating as you struggled to lock your ankles in the small of his back. His frame shivered like an electric current ran through it, clutching you somehow even closer to his massive chassis.

“Nghh…~ Yeah? You love dis fat spike, don’tcha? Say it.”

“I love it!~”

“You want me to spill my load in this tight little valve, don’tcha?”

“Please!”

“Aghh, slag! Y-You’re gonna get it, sweetspark. You’re gonna take it all, j-just-mmfh!~” His vents were ragged and desperate, thrusts stuttering as he neared his release. You squealed as his thumb found your clit, rubbing the swollen bud in rough, tight circles. Euphoria was buzzing throughout your body, the ache of your lower back buried beneath the onslaught of pleasure and heat coiling in the pit of your stomach and blooming out through your limbs, legs shaking, hands trembling.

Sparks exploded behind your eyelids as your orgasm washed over you, hips jerking weakly against Rumble’s. There was no give to his spike at all, thick and steady and unyielding as your pussy squeezed and pulsed around it. You felt a flood of something molten spill into your core, filling you nearly to the point of aching as it spilled out around the tight ring of your hole around his base. Rumble’s frame stuttered, jittering, a harsh crackle of static and mechanical chatter pouring from his drooling intake where it was still buried in the crook of your neck. Finally, finally, his frame grew still. The only noise between the two of you were your shared, harsh breaths and the low churn of the occasional car driving past outside.

“Mmmmnnghh…” Rumble groaned, shifting his hips to pull his shrinking spike from your core as he rose unsteadily back to an upright position. You could feel transfluid dribbling from your hole as he tucked himself back away- thick, translucent globs spilling down the insides of your thighs and hitting the floor with a splatter. His engine gave a little, stuttering snarl despite himself as he dragged his digit tips through the shimmering line along one of your inner thighs. “I oughta take a picture of dis…”

“Don’t you dare.” You kicked weakly at his servo, legs now tingling with static as blood rushed back to them. He barked out a sharp laugh, effortlessly batting your foot aside. His servo rested atop your lower stomach and gave a teasing press, and you shivered as more globs of thick transfluid drooled from your cunt. “Jerk.”

“Eyy, you love it!”

“Unfortunately.” There was no real bite to your tone, you could tell by the way Rumble grinned. “Think you can give me a hand getting over to the bathroom before my knees give out?”

“Depends. Does dat count as you owin’ me a favor?”

[nightingale-prompts]

Loving Spirits - Beholder AU- DC x DP (Tim X Danny)

The rest of the series

So Tim and Danny are at an impasse. Life was comfortable. But they weren't progressing.

It wasn't stale, no never. Every day Tim could only guess what was waiting for him when he got home. If Danny was distracted with his blueprints or pouring over star charts. He could be laughing over a mythology book.

Danny had a habit of redecorating, not that Tim minded. The apartment was kind of bare before. Now it felt like he walked into the wrong house everything he came back. Boho, retro-futurism, and maximalism. Each style blended haphazardly. Tim was just glad it wasn't black everywhere. He was cool to let Danny take over the space.

There was currently one little problem. Well, several but one was more glaring than the others. He didn't know how he managed this but Danny didn't know he was a Wayne. He knew who the Waynes were but he spent so much time focused on his job, school, and hobbies he didn't care about gossip. Add that no one could casually approach him without losing their nerves and no one could tell him.

This was working out great for Tim until-

"Tim...you know I've never met your family. You've met mine and I kinda want to know what I'm getting into." Danny half laughed as he moved his rook on the chess board.

Tim panicked. He could tell Danny he was an orphan so he had no family but Danny was dense, not stupid, and knew damn well that Tim had a family. How else would Tim vent about his brothers and praise what siblings he did like? (Duke and Cassandra)

But right now Danny knew that Tim got a great position at Wayne Industries due to nepotism and brains. He also knew that said position meant a lot of late nights and overwork due to how underprepared he was. The latter was a lie to cover up his Red Robin identity

All these things he could use to get at least some sympathy from Danny and only a few compliments.

Tim didn't like lying but it's expected. Who in this family liked lying about their secret identity besides Dick who probably gets off on that sort of thing deep down. Okay, so Tim liked having a secret identity too but that didn't mean he liked lying to Danny. Okay, he would totally be okay with lying if it was easier and had no consequences but there would totally be consequences on a long enough timeline just look at Bruce's relationships.

Well Tim had to bite the bullet this time.

"I don't know. My family can be so busy. And well... I had a bit of a fallout a few years ago with my brothers. I was practically abandoned. That's why I moved out. Sorry...I don't really talk about it. Family dinner night is the most I can stand."

Timothy Drake you absolute fucking coward! That's so cheap! You manipulative little shit!

"Oh...you poor thing. I didn't know it was like that. I promise I won't bring it up unless you want to talk about it." Danny frowned sympathetically bringing up a hand to cradle Tims cheek soothingly.

Like I said, you're a genius, Tim! Greatest plan you've ever come up with! Absolutely flawless!

***

Danny guessed that Tim side of the family won't be present at the wedding. That's okay but not ideal. That allows Danny to fill up the roles with his side. Youngblood was going to be the ring bearer. Clockwork is the officiate but did Tim want a specific denomination? Danny was sure he could ask any diety to show up for the ceremony.

There was so much planning for these events, years even if he didn't just elope.

Danny just felt bad that they were this deep into their relationship but its really Tim putting in so much effort.

Tim invited Danny into his nest of all things and they are sharing a space.

Nocturne was scandalized when he heard.

"But you're so young! Even Clockwork and I don't share our nests every night!" Nocturne said dramatically pulling out a fan and cooling himself like he heard that Danny was now a fallen woman in Victorian England.

He wasn't wrong though. Ghosts don't often share a nest. It's a sacred and off-limits place of their haunts. Even ancients like Clockwork and Nocturne whose original haunts have long since been lost to time (ehehe) had their own domains in the infinite realms and were careful about crossing into them carelessly so they don't muddle them.

Nests are charged with so much of your own energy, that letting them be tainted by another's energy was an uncomfortable idea. There was so much vulnerability in feeling exposed like that.

Thankfully, Tim hasn't asked them to share a room. Danny wasn't quite sure he could handle it without panicking.

Clockwork wasn't happy either witht he news.

"Moving into his nest is one thing. I respect the boldness but he hasn't even bonded with you." Clockwork was traditional at his heart but it all came from a good place. "When I claimed Nocturne as mine I at least -"

Danny nodded but tuned out the rest of the lecture.

"The future is now old man!" That was all Danny could think.

Seriously Danny was not listening. All he could hear were the butterflies in his stomach and sappy love songs.

But now Tim had proposed! That changed everything.

He asked Danny to stay by his side forever! It was a promise at that. There was nothing more binding. All they needed now was to make it official legally and get bonded.

But still, Danny would like to announce it to both their families. Although Danny hasn't told Vlad because he'd try to chase Tim off again. Seriously, ever since Danny "accidentally switched his original insane and corrupted Vlad for the alternate future non-ghost side redeemed Vlad he had been the ideal godfather. But the new Vlad was overbearing in his own way. How Dani survived is a mystery with a dad like that. Vlad was too ambitious right now and was discussing bringing Dan back to hopefully fix him. Vlad's ghost half made from his hate, anger, isolation, and obsession was to blame along with Danny's unresolved grief and fear of himself. That created Dan.

If the plan goes through Danny has to worry about more then just the wedding planning.

Danny already had so much on his plate. He needed to resolve the issue with the ecto pits soon. He had been getting complaints from the Infinite Realm residents. Being the high prince meant plumbing issues like this fall on him to resolve.

It's all so exhausting. But Danny can't help.but feel like he forgot something.

...Must not be important then.

[revelboo]

Jazz has always been a favorite of mine and the way you write him and the reader is *chefs kiss* I've been inspired to draw art of my tf human character and him . Tysm for giving us sustenance!

Nice! 😁 I love writing and I’m just happy other people like my silly TF stuff.

Over It Now Pt 8

Jazz x Reader

• You can’t breathe. It’s not that he’s gripping you too tightly, it’s the way he’s holding you. A big hand cupping the back of your head, servos tangled in your hair to press your face against his throat. The other arm curled around you, those servos pressing into your hip hard enough that there will likely be a bruise. He’s holding onto you like you’re his lifeline in a dangerous sea, like you’re the only thing holding him together. Almost without thinking, you curl your arms around his neck. And wonder what it’s like to lie all the time, to joke and play everything off. Even when it’s not okay.

• When those little arms wrap around his neck, it’s like he can feel the chinks forming in his carefully constructed armor. The temptation to drop the act after so long, except he’s not sure who would be left under that smiling veneer everyone loves. If that’s not him, would anyone want to stay? He’s the one that can shrug off anything, never serious. Fun. But under that carefree smile? The real Jazz he tries so hard to keep buried? He’s afraid and so tired. He can feel your warm breath on him, little fingers clinging. But it’s your soft whisper that rattles him. “It’s okay.” Like you understand that it’s not. Blaster was right, he’s selfish and you’re going to wind up suffering for it eventually. He knows it.

• The servos in your hair thread more firmly through the strands as he presses his face against your neck, those little door wings of his trembling. And he’s curling his big frame around you as that trembling spreads through him. The feel of his lips, scandalously warm against your neck when he speaks steals the air from your lungs. “Oh, kitten, it’s really not.” He’s laughing then, venting warm air against you, the sound tinged with an almost desperate air. Whatever this had been, it had been something real. He’d let you get the tiniest glimpse and now he’s back to this act. The liar, the flirt, the smiling, confidence man. Anger, sudden and sharp warms you as you plant your palms on his shoulders and push. Getting as much space as he allows between you, because you don’t want to play this game.

• You’re frowning up at him, eyes angry as you try to get loose. And it’s tempting to refuse to let you, but it’s guilt that makes him catch you by the hips and carefully settle you on your feet, reaching to hand you your crutches before you can try to hop over to them. Forcing that smile, he leans an elbow on his knee and props his chin on it, all lazy amusement. “You shouldn’t be out in the cold,” he says, curling his servos under to keep from reaching for you. Because you think he was laughing at you, not himself. It wasn’t amusement, but scorn.

• Why had you thought for one minute he could be real? You’re not even sure now if whatever that had been had been genuine or an act. It had felt almost desperate, too much so to be clever acting, but that’s what he does. Lie and smile. And you shouldn’t be getting so attached to him, because if this is just a game to him, he’ll get bored eventually. Better to keep your distance than risk letting him hurt you when he does. Even if you’re certain that you already like him too much to survive unscathed.

Previous

Next

[allastoredeer]

Hello, don't mind me, I just need to vent for a second.

First off, I just wanna say, as an aroace person on the ace-spectrum, feel free to ship Alastor all you want. Ship him with anyone. Have fun with it. Sex repulsed. Non-sex repulsed. Grey-ace. Demisexual. Pure unadulterated smut. Whatever, have at it. I love that shit.

Just please do it without infantilizing ace-aro people.

The amount of art, fics, and takes I've come across that's so patronizing to Alastor and his sexuality. Thing's like Alastor venting to Rosie about his feelings for a character with the caption "Alastor feeling love for the first time." Or Alastor wanting to have sex with a character and having feelings about that, and someone commenting "That's called a boner, sweetheart. That means you like them 🤭"

Like??? Like do ya'll not see how patronizing that sounds? Being ace-aro doesn't mean you don't know your own body. It doesn't mean you don't understand the functions of your body.

It doesn't mean you've never experienced intense emotions. It doesn't mean you've never experienced love before.

And, look, I know these are meant to be jokes. I know. People are joking. I laughed at the first few I came across, too. It's not meant to be harmful or condescending; no one means it that way. But there's been so much with such...bad takes recently, and I don't know about any other ace-spec people (I don't speak for all ace-specs. Hell, there are probably other ace-spec's who don't mind, enjoy it, or are making content like it themselves. I just speak for myself) but GOD it's getting uncomfortable.

Alastor is in his late 30's-early 40's in human years. That is the established age range we have for him. Do you really think that he'd go that long without ever experiencing "love?" He went through puberty just like everyone else, do you think he doesn't understand his own body???

Being asexual, or sex-repulsed, or touch-repulsed doesn't mean you automatically don't explore these parts of yourself. It doesn't mean he's never, once in his life, touched his own dick, or pussy, or whatever genitalia you're giving him. He can still very well be a "virgin" (which in and of itself is a social construct) while also knowing his body and confidently handling any "sexual needs" he has.

Do you really think he doesn't know what a boner is? That in all the years he's been alive and dead (on Earth and in Hell), he wouldn't have experienced these things once? (And you know what? Maybe he hasn't! Perhaps there are ace's out there like that! But you're telling me he doesn't KNOW what that is??? Really???)

Ah, no, it's all because he just hasn't found the right person yet, right? It's not until Lucifer/Angel Dust/Vox, whoever found him, and they gave him these feelings, and oh no, poor Bambi is feeling twitterpated and horny for the first time, isn't that romantic!

Honestly, not really. It just sounds like the same, stupid shit ace-aro people hear from family, friends, and acquaintances about their sexuality. You know, the tried and true: "Oh, you just haven't found the right person yet. You'll want all that eventually, you'll see😊"

Do you not see how frustrating that is?

Look, I am all down for Alastor exploring parts of himself. I want him to navigate different relationships, feel them out, figure out what kind of relationship he wants and what he's okay and not okay with doing. But there are ways to do that without treating him like a little UwU silly baby boy who doesn't know his own body, or his own emotions, or his own relationships with other characters. Like he needs someone to teach him about himself.

How about instead, he finds someone he feels comfortable exploring these elements with? Instead of them "teaching" him how to fuck, or masturbate, or whatever the hell you want to call it, they're giving him the room and safe-space to explore it at his own pace??!!

It comes across as someone who isn't on the ace-spectrum "teaching" an ace-spec character about their own sexuality which puts such a gross taste in my mouth. Or, at least, that's how it comes across to me.

And the thing is, I know people aren't going to stop. I know they're going to keep infantilizing Alastor and his aro-ace identity, and I wasn't originally going to make this post, because you can't control what people do in fandom.

So this is mostly just a post to say: HEY! Hello! Ace-aro person here! I hope you all are having fun and I love that you're exploring Alastor's asexual/aromantic identity! Especially those who may not be in the ace-spectrum themselves, as you're learning about us and our experiences! That's awesome! Can we just do that while also treating Alastor like the adult he is? Can we do that without being infantilizing and patronizing about his sexual identity? Please?"

That's all I really wanted to say. I just needed to get this off my chest instead of letting it fester. This isn't an attack on anyone, this is just the perspective of an Alastor multi-shipper who loves exploring his relationships with other characters (sexually and non-sexually) and deep-diving into the dynamics of the show.

Thanks for reading.

[simpforrooster]

heard it all.

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x f!Reader

summary: reader vents to mav and penny about her feelings for a certain mustached fighter pilot. a/n: my take on a request from @kpopgirlbtssvt. i latched on to one part of the request and took off. i hope you still like it!

"What's going on in that head of yours?" the low voice of Maverick pulls you from your thoughts.

"Hmm, I don't know what you're talking about," you reply, continuing on without another thought.

"You've been wiping down that same spot of the bar for ten minutes."

Maverick and Penny, your boss, exchange a knowing glance. You look at the rag in the hand as if seeing it for the first time.

"I think it's plenty clean, y/n," Penny comments, winking at Mav.

Placing a hand on your hip, you stare the two of them down. "What are you two silently saying to one another?"

Penny shrugs a shoulder. "Oh nothing." You can see it in her eyes though. She knows exactly what has your brain all a-mush.

More like who.

Bradley Bradshaw.

The Hawaiian shirt wearing aviator.

The hot Hawaiian shirt wearing aviator.

He captured your heart the first day you met him. Sure, his looks were what drew you to him initially. But he was so nice. Like green flags all around.

You shake your head at the two people who have become a pseudo family to you. Tossing the rag onto the counter, a sigh escapes your mouth.

"Y'all just give it up. We're just friends." Your voice breaks on the word friends, and your eyes squeeze shut to hide your embarrassment.

"Come on," Penny starts.

Holding up a hand, you stop her. "Penny, please. It already hurts enough. He's the nicest, sweetest guy I've ever met."

Your chest heaves as you breath through your emotions.

"I have never met another man like him. He makes me feel seen. He makes me feel beautiful."

Maverick makes a move like he is going to say something, but Penny lays a hand on his arm, stopping him.

"And as if the silly little age difference isn't enough, he only sees me like a sister." A tear falls along your cheek, surprising you. Of course, you've grieved the non-relationship before. It isn't out of the norm to sob into your wine glass with Phoenix.

It's the first time you've ever cried in front of Penny and Mav.

The sound of a clearing throat has your spinning around.

Rooster looks at you, his brows knit together. You can't read the look on his face, but it can't be good. It tells you everything you need to know.

He heard it all.

And he doesn't feel the same.

Reaching up to sloppily wipe your tears, you tried to step around him, mumbling something so incoherent you can't decipher the words.

Rooster's strong arms reach out and stop you in your tracks.

"I can promise you I do not see you as a sister," he says, his voice low.

Not that you try, but words refuse to come out your mouth. How could they? The way he's staring at you has your heart beating in overdrive.

"Did you really mean all that?" he asks. His eyes roam over your face, searching for something. It takes you a second to realize he looks a little scared.

Scared of being rejected.

Bradley doesn't like you back. There's no way. He's had plenty of opportunities to make a move and hasn't.

He takes one step closer to you, the soles of your shoes meeting.

"Of course, Bradley." The sentence comes out barely a whisper, but he heard it. His hand snakes around your neck and settles into your hair. "Why wouldn't I be madly in love with you?"

A delicious groan escapes from his mouth before he closes the space between you. His lips meet yours and suddenly the Earth moves beneath your feet as the planets snap into alignment.

Bradley's lips are finally on yours, and it feels every bit as right as you imagined.

He pulls back so his mouth is feather light against yours. "Sweetheart, I am wildly in love with you." The words fall on your ears in soft whispers. Your eyes fall closed to relish in the way all this feels.

Bradley brings his mouth back to yours, pulling you tight against him. Your height difference has never been more apparant that right this second.

"Okay, okay, get a room," Maverick calls, followed by a, "Oof," as Penny's arm comes into contact with his solid stomach.

masterlist.

a/n: i hope y'all enjoy this one! i've been struggling with a little bit of writer's block.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I reported my roommate for smoking weed?

🖍 for identification

Okay so I (19, F) live in the dorms on my university campus. Specifically, I'm in the normal, freshman-only dorms. This means that while weed is legal in my area, very few if any of of people in my building are legally allowed to use it, only the RAs would be old enough

My schools drug policy is basically "Don't, especially on campus or in a way where you can get caught on campus. It we smell it from your room there will be consequences, and if you're somewhere where it's happening but not doing it yourself you will still face consequences". A lot of people don't really care and will smoke it on campus, or return to their dorms still smelling of it anyway. In addition, the smell is a major sensory issue for me (as in, feel sick, break down crying if there too long, very much not okay level). I do what I can for dealing with this myself (walk a bit out of my way to avoid area I know tends to be a spot people will smoke, hold my breath if I can avoid the smell, etc). It's not my business what people do, I get that.

Recently, after my roommate (F, don't know age but about my age) returns to our room she, and consequentially, the room, smell strongly of weed. This is, to me at least, a different situation than the walkway outside the dorm building/dorm lobby/other areas where I have to deal with the smell of weed because, well, it's partially my room. It's where I sleep and work and typically am when I don't have class or show work. And because it's a smaller more confined space, the smell is even stronger, permeates everything, and doesn't just go away.

While I've had things my roommate did cause sensory issues before, I always went with a "just deal" route because 1. She's paying the same as I am to live there and 2. It was mostly things like strong smelling food or having the TV running late at higher volumes, which I didn't know how to bring up with her and aren't Go To The RA type problems.

However, this is a different level, and I've slept in my car last night and tonight and avoided the room all day except to grab things like a change of clothes, my toiletries bag, my purse, etc. which when I went to grab, the room still smelled like weed. Because this is 1. worse than other sensory issues I've run into with her and 2. Something that could potentially get me in trouble if I was in the room and someone came by to check and noticed the smell, I've considered going to the RA/housing staff and telling them about this, but since I've never actually talked to my roommate about any problems, including this, I'm worried it would be an asshole move. Plus, it's possible the campus police would end up involved and thats a whole other level of trouble I would feel bad putting her through. When I first escaped to my car last night I sent a vent text to my brother, which my mom ended up seeing, and she's pushing me to tell someone but I'm worried about it

So, wibta?

What are these acronyms?

[is-this-yuri]

so, no shame, i had a meltdown in response to that video i was working on getting disappeared by a crashing app. i'm autistic and emotional overwhelm is to be expected. ESPECIALLY given the stress i'm under being homeless.

i was crying quite loudly for about half an hour, and this is something i can soothe and guide myself through to vent my emotions. it's nessecary and, at this point after years of implementing coping strategies, a pretty harmless regulatory activity.

however, since i'm homeless and i live in my car, i have no private space to go through these meltdowns. they can be disturbing to witness or hear from a distance, i mean for me it often involves screaming and sobbing. but i reiterate they are not an immediate sign of danger.

apparently, someone thought a child was crying in my vehicle and called the police.

since i'm at a state park, a ranger came by to check on me and warn me the cops were coming, so i got out of there.

my question is, if you're so concerned about a potential child in distress, why wouldn't you go up to the vehicle and check on them yourself? why hide behind the police like a coward? such an 'innocent act of concern' could have really put me in danger.

police are not understanding about autistic meltdowns. they, and frankly the general public, see them as potentially dangerous. while it isn't unheard of, reports of autistic meltdowns resulting in violence are very overblown and used to fear-monger. i've never acted violently toward anyone during a meltdown, ever. but i HAVE been a victim of violence from both people i trusted and police attempting to control my meltdowns.

i'm constantly checking my surroundings to make sure i'm at least somewhat alone before having one of these meltdowns. i can't always contain them until i get to a place where i can be alone. it's not always safe to drive myself anywhere when my emotions are hightened. there is no stopping a meltdown, it WILL happen once i reach a certain emotional tipping point. a tipping point my stressful life places me right at the edge of all the time.

i don't feel safe anymore. anywhere. i'm not allowed to and cannot safely regulate my intense emotions, and there's a real risk of me being imprisoned, restrained, hospitalized, hurt, or killed because of this.

the ironic thing is the topic of the video i was working on is very relevant to this experience. this is my real, every day life, and i'm fucking exhausted of it. i'm angry. i deserve to feel safe.

[valwrites-stuff]

heyyy you write beautifully for current James and I was wondering can I request one, if that’s alright please? They both are best friends knowing each other since they were born(they both are famous rockstars) After James divorce the reader comforts him (you can add the smut part here if you want 🙈) James realized that she was the one who he should marry not his ex wife. Feel free to add something else🖤🖤🖤

Hope you like this ❣️

Blind

James Hetfield x Reader ☆ smut, friends to lovers

You and James had been best friends since childhood. Growing up together, you shared everything from secrets to dreams. Both of you had a passion for music, and as you got older, you both pursued your dreams of becoming rockstars.

You found success with your band, while James found fame with his own. Despite being in different bands, you remained close friends, always supporting each other through the ups and downs of the music industry.

When James went through a tough divorce, you were there for him every step of the way. You listened to him vent and reminded him of his worth. You were his rock during his darkest days, and he couldn't have been more grateful for your unwavering support.

As time passed, James began to see you in a different light. He realized that you were the one who had always been there for him, the one who truly understood him and cared for him. He started to see that you were the one he should have married, not his ex-wife, realizing that he was slowly falling in love with you over all these years.

One day, as you were sitting together backstage, after a show, your band being the opening act for Metallica. The energy from the show still buzzing in the air.

James let out a sigh, running a hand through his sweaty silver hair  "Man, that was a killer show. Thanks for being a part of it." You smiled with a hand on his shoulder. "Of course, James. Today was so great. You guys were amazing as always."

He nodded, but you could see the weight of something else on his shoulders. "What's on your mind? You seem a little off."

James hesitated for a moment before opening up. "It's just...my divorce. It's been weighing on me a lot lately. I thought I was okay, but it's still hard, you know?"

You nodded sympathetically, knowing how tough it must be for him. "I'm here for you, James. You know that, right?"

He smiled gratefully, but then his expression turned serious. "There's something else I need to tell you, though. Something I've been keeping to myself for a while now." You raised an eyebrow, curious. "What is it?"

James took a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours. "I...I have feelings for you. More than just friendship. I've been trying to ignore it, but it's been eating away at me."

You were taken aback, not expecting this confession. But as you looked into his eyes, you saw the sincerity and vulnerability there. And at that moment, you realized that maybe he always secretly had the same feelings for you as you had for him. Wondering if you could have been married to him all this time instead of his ex-wife, sparing him the difficult divorce. But perhaps the divorce was needed to make space for something new.

"I...I don't know what to say, James," you stammered, feeling a rush of emotions. "I never knew you felt that way."

He reached out, taking your hand in his. "I understand if you don't feel the same. I just had to tell you. I couldn't keep it inside any longer."

You squeezed his hand, feeling a warmth spreading through you. "James, I...I think I feel the same way. I did for a long time, actually. I never thought you would like me in that way."

A smile spread across his face, relief evident in his eyes. "Really? You mean it?" You nodded, feeling a weight lifting off your chest. "Yes, James. I mean it."

And in that moment, backstage after a show, you and James shared a tender, heartfelt moment that would change the course of your friendship forever. Love had been hiding in the shadows, but now it was out in the open, ready to be embraced.

James smiled even more, sitting closer until you were mere inches from his body, his hand resting on your knee. He looked into your eyes, blushing. After a pause, he spoke up, his voice soft as though he was testing the waters. “I don't know what to say, um...maybe I...Can I... do something?”

You look into his blue eyes, managing a nod. James smiled tenderly, a little nervous, and lifted one of his hands to cup the side of your face, gently caressing your skin with his thumb. Without another word, James leaned in and kissed me, his lips soft and tender against mine. The kiss quickly deepened, igniting a fire within me that I had never felt before.

James hummed into the kiss, enjoying it more than he could ever imagine, which caused him to pull you closer against his body until you were pressed flush, almost no space between you two. He softly nibbled on your lower lip, silently asking for permission to continue further.

You felt your body temperature heat up and parted your lips as James slowly slipped his tongue into your mouth, his hands now gripping your hips firmly, pulling you to him. His tongue explored your mouth hungrily, a low hum reverberating in his chest.

You melt into him, now desperate for more. James continued to kiss you, his hands gripped your hips, almost possessively now, as his tongue began to gently and slowly swirl around your own. His mind was filled with you, and nothing but you. He slowly pushed you backwards until your back hit the soft cushions of the sofa.

You let out a sigh and wrapped your arms around his neck as James' body hovered over yours, strong tattooed arms kept you locked in place.

James broke the kiss for a moment, his breathing coming out in short, shallow breaths as he looked down at you, his eyes slowly raking over your form. "You're so beautiful...was so blind..." He was panting slightly, his cheeks flushed, as he lowered his head towards your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses from your jawline down to your collarbone, all the while hardening in his pants.

"Should have told you years ago, I'm sorry..." You whispered, running your fingers through his silver locks. James mumbled against your skin, his words low and his hot breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck.

He began to leave a trail of small, gentle nips and kisses across your collarbone, his hands slowly making their way down to grip the back of your thighs. “Nevermind that... ‘m gonna make up for lost time now...”

James groaned low against your skin when you wrapped your thigh around his waist. One of his hands quickly slipped underneath it, his fingers gripping the back of it to hold you in place against him. He left a trail of kisses up the underside of your jaw, reaching your ear, and nipping at the soft lobe, gently pulling it between his teeth, his hips shifting to press against your core.

"Mhm James, I need to feel all of you...waited so long..." James groaned softly against your neck before he quickly lifted his head to look down at you. His eyes roamed over your face, taking in the sight of you. He was panting, his breath coming in shallow gasps now. “Are you sure? I don’t know if I can stop once I start, princess...”

"I don't know if I want you to stop once you start." You smiled and watched him expectantly. James looked at you for just a moment before he gently cups one side of your face with his large hand, his thumb caressing your cheek gently.

He lent down and presses a soft, slow kiss to your lips, all while his other hand slowly slides under the hem of your shirt, his fingers slowly skimming over the soft skin at your waist. When he pulled away from the kiss, he whispered against your lips. “You have no idea what you do to me, sweetheart.”

James slowly began to pull your shirt up, exposing more of your skin, all while his mouth began to leave a trail of kisses down the new bared skin, stopping to remove the piece of clothing from you, throwing it aside.

He looked down at your bra for a moment before he gently palmed your breast through the fabric until his other hand snaked around to your back to undo the hook of your bra. “God… I’ve imagined seeing you like this… so many times… couldn’t get the sight out of my mind…”

James gently slipped your bra off and quickly tossed it somewhere, his eyes slowly raking over your bare chest. He swallowed thickly before he looked back at you, his breath catching in his throat for a moment. “You're perfect."

You shivered once the cool air hit your naked chest, nipples standing tall in anticipation. James slowly lowered his head to your chest, his gaze never leaving your own as he began to lay a trail of open-mouthed kisses and gentle nips along your collarbone, down the center of your chest, his hands squeezing you gently, followed by a pause to undress from the sweaty shirt he's wearing adding it to the pile of clothes on the floor.

He kicked off his boots before opening his leather pants to undress, before he placed hungry kisses on your belly. James warm breath caressed your skin, you felt a shiver run down your spine. His gentle kisses left a path of tingling desire in their wake.

When he reached the waistband of your shorts, he paused, seeking silent consent. Your body was arching subtly into his touch, as if begging him to proceed. With a soft hum of approval, James eased your zipper down, his fingers grazing the sensitive flesh beneath. He peeled back the fabric, revealing the lacy edges of your panties. A slow, sensual smile spreads across his face as he pulls the heeled boots from your feet, followed by your shorts.

You watched his every move, impatiently waiting to finally feel all of the man you always dreamed of. James admired the sight before leaning down to place a soft kiss right above your clit, through the lace, making you wetter by the second.

The delicate lace of your panties was no barrier to James's questing mouth. He pressed tender kisses against the damp fabric, his breath hot and enticing against your most intimate area. Each kiss sent ripples of pleasure coursing through your body, making you squirm restlessly beneath him. The friction of the lace against your swollen clit heightened your sensitivity, and you couldn't suppress a needy whimper as your hips lift involuntarily, seeking more contact. "James, please, I need you."

James chuckled low in his throat as his hands slid up your thighs, thumbs brushing against the outer lips of your sex through the thin material. Slowly, almost reverently, he begun to peel away the lacy barrier, exposing your glistening folds to his eager gaze.

He discarded his boxers with haste, freeing his impressive length from its confines. It sprang forth, thick and hard. Your eyes widened as you took in the sight of him, your tongue darting out to wet suddenly dry lips. He looked magnificent, all sinewy muscle and raw masculinity. When he wrapped one large hand around his shaft, giving himself a slow stroke from base to tip, you couldn't tear your gaze away.

The movement was mesmerizing, his calloused palm gliding over velvety skin. He pumped himself languidly, his thumb swirling around the leaking head, smearing the clear fluid. All the while, his heated gaze remained locked on yours, dark with promise and barely restrained hunger.

"Up to your expectations, sweetheart? Tell me, do you want this?" James hovered over you, hot and ready.

Without breaking eye contact, you reached up and grasped James's firm buttocks, pulling him closer until the tip of his cock nudges against your slick folds. "Give me what I wanted for so long."

Your words, laced with longing and yearning, serve as a catalyst for the intense moment about to unfold. With a sigh, James lined up with your entrance before sheathing himself within your welcoming heat. A collective gasp echoed through the room as he fills you completely, his girth stretching your inner walls deliciously.

For a fleeting instant, you remained still, savoring the sensation of being utterly joined. Then, with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips, James began to move. Each stroke was a masterful blend of tenderness and passion, designed to stoke the flames of your desire to a fever pitch.

As he picked up pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air, punctuated by your breathy moans and James's guttural groans.

Your body responded instinctively to James's rhythmic thrusts, undulating beneath him as waves of pleasure began to crest. The sensation of being so thoroughly claimed, so deeply connected to another, was almost overwhelming in its intensity.

With each powerful stroke, James seemed to hit that sweet spot inside you, sending jolts of electricity coursing through your veins. Your nails dig into his back, urging him on as you lost yourself in the relentless build of ecstasy.

James's hands roamed your curves possessively, one palm cupping your breast while the other teases your clit. His touch was electric, every caress heightening the ardor between you until you were both panting and straining towards the precipice of climax.

"Oh fuck, Jamie. I'm coming..." Your breathy cry of impending release spurred James on, his hips pistoning faster as he drives into you with renewed vigor.

"I've got you," James rasped, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own orgasm. "Let go, sweetheart. Come for me."

His thumb on your clit rubbed tight circles around the swollen nub as he continues to pound into you. The dual sensations prove too much, and with a keening wail, you tumble over the edge into oblivion.

Wave after wave of pure bliss crashed over you, your inner muscles clamping down around James's shaft as you convulse beneath him.

James' body tensed, a deep groan rumbling in his chest as he buries himself to the hilt within you. His hot seed pulsed forth in powerful spurts, filling you to the brim as he rides out the intense climax.

For a few moments, you remained entwined, caught in the aftermath of your shared ecstasy. James' face was a mask of satisfaction, his eyes closed as he savors the feeling of your warmth enveloping him. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your own, a soothing counterpoint to the chaos of emotions swirling inside you.

Slowly, James pulled out, his softening member slipping free with a wet sound. A tender smile played on his lips as he brushes a stray lock of hair from your forehead. "I was a blind man, very blind..."

"And I was just plain stupid to not tell you what I feel..." As you lay there, breathless and spent, you knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together. Despite the challenges and obstacles that lay ahead, you were certain that your love would conquer all.

And as you held each other close, you whispered, "I love you, James. I always will." And in that moment, you knew that you were meant to be together, now and forever.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

I am so happy you're back and seem to be doing even a little bit better! We missed you!

I wanted to send a little message, so you can ignore it if it sours your mood or you don't feel like dealing with it, feel no pressure at all! It's just this blog has been a safe space and the community has been so welcoming that I figured I could vent really quick

You know when sometimes the brain just has a really shitty day, like when you draw something and it screams at you that it's trash even though there's nothing wrong with it? I've been having a rough time with it deciding to scream that comfort characters would cheat, probably as an 'You are so unlovable not even fictional characters would be loyal' bullshit. Now, logically, I know this makes -67 sense. But, I was wondering if you could just reassure that like, Sanji, Mihawk, Buggy, Shanks, Crocodile, Blablablablabla long list of One Piece characters you write for, would not cheat? I'm sorry, this sounds lame to even write out but I'm trying to get my brain to stop thinking that asking for help is 'pathetic' because it is not and it only applies that logic to me, never to anyone else.

I dunno man. Brains and bring human ate both though af.

I missed all of you as well. Really and sincerely. I have a tendency to go radio silent when I'm going through a difficult time and I hate it immensely, but hearing that I was missed to makes me all

And yes, oh gods, I know. My brain is frequently my worst enemy. Especially when I'm not writing. My anxiety starts working overtime and my creative drive becomes dedicated to coming up with problems that could potentially happen for me to worry about even more and it's an absolute bitch; or even when I am actively creating and a little voice insists that everything I make is stupid garbage.

This is still very much and always will be a safe space. It definitely is awful to feel that unworthy of love. Full disclosure, I've mentioned in passing before that I've been diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder depressive type. My main issue is auditory hallucinations that like to insist that everyone I love and care about only tolerate me out of pity and secretly would rather I not be around, which leads to me isolating myself from people. Huge part of the reason I go silent when life decides to be a bitch. I know it's just as bad feeling that way about comfort characters, if not even worse, when we're supposed to have them to help us get through that kind of bullshit.

So let me provide a little drabble for the one comfort character I’m certain wouldn’t ever allow us to continue being so silly about our worthiness of love and affection, because we’re all worthy of such a basic human need. I may do more later, but one in particular jumped at the opportunity to provide this comfort, and I fear he may counter me with his dreaded puppy-dog-eyes should I even dare attempt to wait.

Good Enough

OPLA!Sanji x AFAB!Reader

Lil drabble thingy

SFW, Hurt/Comfort

Possible TRIGGER WARNINGS for depression, insecurity, self-worth

♫♬ Moonshine ♬♫ — The Fratellis (yes I’m STILL on my Fratellis BS leave me be)

"Never knowing is the most evil feeling, when every answer here is none too appealing"

Sanji had always been a flirt. You knew that from the moment you started working on the wait staff at Baratie. Your trust issues had made it a little difficult for you to open up around the young sous chef (and occasional waiter on the frequent occasion that Zeff kicked him out of the kitchen for insubordination), but it was his outgoing nature and perseverance that had ultimately won you over. He had a way of making you feel like you were the only girl in the world when you were together, doting upon you, all but worshipping the ground you walked on.

But when he was sent out to work the dining area, it always made you nervous. His innate charm, his handsome features—he was nearly always a hit with female customers. No matter how much you told yourself that he was only doing his job, there was always a nagging feeling that maybe there was more to it than that. Watching him interact with a table of pretty young women, who by their clothing and demeanor were obviously far more affluent and sophisticated than you, left you distracted in your own work.

Seeing how they giggled at everything he said, how they fluttered their eyelashes when he brought them their drinks.

How the pretty blonde at the table leaned so close to him while he pointed to something on the menu, close enough to brush her hand across his.

You managed to spill a tray of drinks all over yourself while you were watching, leading to a scolding from the front of house manager. You saw the table of girls from the corner of your eye, giggling at your clumsiness before you were sent off to clean yourself up and change your uniform.

No matter how much you told yourself you were being silly, there was nothing you could do to shake it. The doubts, the thoughts of how easily he could find someone better than you. You had your jaw clenched the entire time you were changing your shirt in the staff restroom, tossing the soiled one aside as you leaned against the sink in front of the mirror and forced yourself to take slow, level breaths.

You were still on the clock. You couldn’t break down. You had to get changed, had to get back to work, had to pretend everything was fine, if he found out you were being so stupid about this then he would definitely drop you like a bad habit, you had to compose yourself or—

Knock knock.

Your eyes darted to the bathroom door, your breath catching in your throat at the sound of the light knock.

“J—just a minute,” you forced out, flinching at the sound of your own voice breaking a little.

Stupid, you’re being stupid, stop it stop it stop it—

A brief silence followed your answer, a silence that seemed to stretch on for miles despite lasting only a few seconds. The familiar, gentle voice that answered after a moment made your hands clench around the porcelain of the sink.

“You alright, love?” You drew in a sharp breath, swallowing, clenching your eyes shut. Of course it was Sanji. You had almost hoped that the manager had come scold you for taking too long. That would have been easier to deal with right now. Your eyes darted to the locked doorknob as it rattled a little. “I heard—”

“I’m fine,” you said immediately, the strained quality of your own words as they met your ears making your hands tighten a little more on the edge of the sink. “I—I just tripped and spilled a few drinks, I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” You gritted your teeth, laying your head back to stare up at the ceiling. Of course he wouldn’t let it go that easily. The doorknob rattled a little again, and you glanced at it as if it were a viper poised to strike out at you at any second.

Stupid, you’re being stupid, don’t—

“You sound—”

You reached out and turned the lock on the doorknob, and turned away from the door, crossing your arms over your half-buttoned shirt and stared down at your feet. After a long moment, you heard the door open behind you.

Evidently you didn’t look any less distressed than you felt. His quiet sigh met your ear as the door shut lightly and the lock turned. “Oh, love, it’s fine,” he said gently, his footfalls echoing quietly in the small bathroom, closing the short distance across the tile floor between the two of you. Your whole body tensed as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his forehead over the crown of your hair with a quiet chuckle. “It’s only a few drinks, it could happen to anyone.”

You shook your head, your shoulders shaking a little. Stupid, it was so stupid, but the words were already leaving your mouth before you could stop them. “Oh, yeah, anyone.” You couldn’t stop. You couldn’t. He had a way of pulling all your insecurities to the surface that no one else did. You pulled your crossed arms tighter, staring down at the white floor tiles for a moment before shutting your eyes tightly, your voice shaking a little. “Especially a dumb screw-up like me—”

“Don’t do that.” His tone came out a little sharper with this, and your breath hitched audibly in your throat this time, your shoulders hunching as you clenched your eyes shut tighter, swallowing back the lump in your throat. As if to counter your stiff posture, he pulled his arms tighter around your waist, pulling you closer, his thumb rubbing lightly against your waist in a comforting manner. “Don’t, sweetheart. Please.”

The warmth of his embrace already had you relaxing a little. Your shoulders slumped, your body leaning back against him, but your eyes were still burning when you opened them to stare down at the toes of your shoes.

“Was it the manager?” he asked gently, shifting behind you to rest his chin on your shoulder. “If he was being an ass I’ll gladly kick his ass off the docks.” Your breath left your lungs in a slow, trembling sigh as you shook your head no, your gaze drifting down to his hand at your hip, still rubbing lightly against you, your lips curling into a fleeting smile at his offer. You knew you were being stupid, but… “Then what’s wrong, love?” he asked, his voice a soft, comforting murmur in your ear.

“I…” You drew in a deep breath, closing your eyes as he tilted his head so his cheek lay against your shoulder. “Y—you—“

You swallowed against the lump forming in your throat, drawing in a deep breath, trying and failing to steady the whirlwind of thoughts swirling through your mind, thoughts of how maybe this was all a lie, of how you weren’t anything more than a silly little fling to him, how you weren’t good enough, how easily you could be replaced.

You bit your lip, glancing down as his hand found yours, watching his fingers lace between your own…and the breath left you in a slow, resigned sigh.

“It’s stupid,” you said quietly.

“If it’s got you this upset, then it’s anything but stupid,” he countered, and you had to purse your lips tightly to keep them from curving into a small smile as you felt his press briefly against your cheek in a soft kiss. “And if it’s something I’ve done—”

“N—no, you haven’t—” But how quickly you shook your head, how your shoulders tensed, betrayed your worries. “I…I just…” You slowly relaxed once more as he squeezed you against him, his cheek nuzzling against your shoulder, his soft blonde hair tickling against your neck. Still unable to turn your head to meet his eyes, you bit the bullet and forced yourself to voice your worries. “You have beautiful women making goo-goo eyes at you all day,” you said, keeping your voice low in an attempt to keep it steady. “I—I don’t—I’m not—” You bit your lip, your heart racing as you clenched your eyes shut, cursing yourself internally as you felt the tickle of a tear leaving your eye to trail down one of your cheeks. “Y-you could have any girl you wanted. L—like that blonde that was hanging all over you while you were showing her the menu, or—or—”

“Oh, sweetheart…” You weren’t quite able to mask the small sob that hitched in your chest as Sanji loosened his embrace—only to gently place a hand on your hip, guiding you to turn around and face him, to pull you against his chest as you tried and failed to fight back tears. He gently shushed your quiet sobs and stammered apologies as he wrapped his arms around you fully, combing his fingers through your hair as he laid his head over yours. Your eyes remained clenched shut as you fought to control your breathing , as he pressed a tender, lingering kiss to your forehead.

Sanji lowered his head and nuzzled into your hair, holding you flush against him.

“I already have the girl I want. The perfect girl.” He pressed another tender kiss to your temple, murmuring against your skin, “I have her right here in my arms. And I hope,” he said, his tone turning a little playful as he shifted to rest his forehead against yours, “that I’ll still have her tonight after dinner shift is over.” He brushed your hair behind your ear, smiling as he tilted his head to meet your gaze, puling a small smile to your lips as your cheeks grew a little warmer. “So we can cuddle up together on the balcony…watch the stars…laugh at all the drunk idiots stumbling back to their boats…”

You could practically hear him smiling as a few soft giggles escaped you, as you finally leaned fully against him and returned his embrace, your arms wrapping around his torso as you buried your face against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, relaxing against him. “I…I’m just…”

“I know, love.” The way he called you ‘love’ all but melted your heart now that you were calmed down, pulling a faint smile to your lips. “I know. You don’t have anything to be sorry for. And if it’s any consolation, I was in the middle of telling that self-righteous blonde bimbo how my sweet, adorable, beautiful girlfriend would wring her neck if she kept putting her hands on me—“ He chuckled as you whined in protest of his praise, tugging you closer and grinning, meeting your eyes without hesitation.

He lifted his hand to your face, his thumb brushing across your cheek, the warmth of his gaze holding yours.

“I—“

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

You both jolted in alarm, your heads turning in unison toward the sound of the pounding on the bathroom door. Before you could so much as glance at each other, a gruff voice spoke up from behind the door.

“We’re in the weeds, Eggplant!” Zeff called . “Get your scrawny ass to the kitchen! And bring your damned girlfriend, we need all the help we can get.”

A long moment of silence stretched between the two of you as you both stared at the closed bathroom door, before your gazes drifted slowly toward each other.

Before you were both giggling under your breath, as you buried your forehead against his chest, a broad smile spreading across your lips as you clung to him.

“I suppose we’ve been summoned,” said Sanji, pulling back from you only enough to gaze down at you, still smiling. “Shall we, then?”

[jazeswhbhaven]

👻👻Happy Spooky Month Ya'll👻👻

Have yourself a Asmo~

So as with any update of mine for the month, let's get it poppin' with some quick housekeeping rules since I've gained some new faces since the last update!

👻Don't come up in my space with the bullshit, meaning racism/colorism, homophobia, etc.

👻If you have a non-sharing yumeship do yourself a favor and don't follow me as I equally talk about and simp for pretty much the majority of the characters for this game

👻I talk and write cxc content, I always tag it so ya'll can mute it so just fair warning

👻Venting is welcome in my inbox, but no venting about other users in my inbox and using me as a mediator. That's ya'lls beef not mine.

👻Absolutely no minors.

👻Requests are s l o w. Like I still have stuff from weeks/months ago I haven't answered so please be patient with me ;w;

What's going on this month for my blog?

Uh tbh I was supposed to have a WHB OCversary event for myself and well that hasn't been going to well because of outside factors. If ya'll see it before Halloween that would be my ideal goal.

Also I was going to do a Halloween thingie like how I did for my other blog last year but I don't think I will end up getting to it...I might just update with the kings/nobles I didn't include!

Other than that keep an eye out for the following reacts:

👻Asmodeus Selfie 👻Gabriel X-mas Miracle And this is totally dependent on when my friends share the stories with me or if I get them myself. I was supposed to have a react for Levi and Mammon's bath story but I'll probably dish that out for next month instead.

Oh but another thing!

So after some thought, if I get myself together and figure out a sound schedule...and after doing more research I will possibly be opening a Patreon for ficlets/blurbs for other fandoms including this one based on a poll vote. Most of it will be never posted on tumblr so it will be exclusive to my patrons only! The tiers won't be too expensive tho. But this is still a up in the air thought and I'll let ya'll know if it's ever going forward. I'd like to think I'd get support but alas, gotta be realistic sometimes lol

Hey so, Asmodeus....eh? *wink*

yes. Asmodeus has the fandom up in a tizzy and I think that's a given. For LU(Love Unholyc) fans this has been a long time coming seeing him like this, and for folks like me who kinda know OF him or don't know him at all then yeah fucking side swept my ass.

Let me gather my strength to write some stuff about him...I want to I really do...and we shall see if I can get my brain going. There's so much potential with him too. Other than him being fine as fuck.

Anywayssssssss thank you all for following me and my crazy, engaging, and being the lovely folks ya'll are. Let's continue to simp and vibe for the bois~

your lovely admin~ ♡( •ॢ◡-ॢ)✧˖° ♡ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ

[pyrrhiccomedy]

I'm sorry that you're going through this. It sounds terrible.

How does a machine make your bones feel like jam? What do you mean, "like jam"? What helps while you're in the machine?

You lamented the lack of a "no downers" Tumblr option before. Is there any kind of fun internet thing your followers could curate for you?

thank you for actually asking me about the Big Machine

so a modern radiation therapy machine looks like this:

It is actually kind of hard to communicate the scale of this thing. It's the size of most people's living rooms, and the whole thing rotates around you. You feel like you're trying to dock with the international space station.

Actually being in the machine doesn't feel like anything. You lay down, they take your boob out of your hospital gown and align the lasers to these little tattoos they've put on your chest and sides, they leave the room, Vivaldi plays for about 5 minutes while things beep and buzz and the space station revolves a few times, and then you're free to get dressed and go home.

Then - in my experience, as someone who is, apparently, "a real outlier" in terms of how sensitive I am to radiation - about 30 minutes later, on the subway ride home, you start to feel extremely bad. Shaky, weak, exhausted, stabbing pains all over the boob, and just an overall feeling of, like...internal griminess. Like there's grit gumming up everything on your insides. You feel wobbly, like your bones have turned to jelly. It feels a little like food poisoning, but without the nausea, if you've ever had that experience. Just that jittery, feverish, whole-body feeling of something being very wrong.

That feeling persists for 4-5 hours, then starts to taper down; but it never tapers down completely, so every day (and you go in for radiation every day, except for weekends) it builds up a little bit more. So on Monday, you feel like shit for a couple of hours, but you shake it off by dinner time; but by Friday, you're dragging yourself through every step of the process and then you get home and pass out for 14 hours.

It's weird, too, because it's not like there's anything that the doctors can do to make it better. Like, they can't give you a different treatment, or give you less radiation. There's a set amount of radiation you need to receive over a set amount of time to be sure that they've killed all the cancer, and the alternative to radiation is cancer, so you're getting radiation. The radiologist was sympathetic to how hard I've been taking it, but all she could really do is remind me that it's temporary. All of the effects of the radiation will be out of my system a week or two after the treatment ends, so like. Knuckle down, camper, it is what it is.

Y'all are sweet to ask if there's anything you can do, but honestly, not really. I vent a bit about this stuff on Tumblr because I don't want my friends and family to have to hear about how tough this is. Sending the occasional nice message or little question is appreciated! It gives me something to think about that isn't cancer.

[luveline]

suicide warning (vent but more introspective than anything) (please don't read if it will upset or distress you, I am in no danger nor will I be in the future)

I'm sure I'll regret talking about this but I've been having this really weird feeling lately. I used to be very suicidal for a long time when I was growing up, and then it got lesser, but for a while there was nothing I wanted so much as to kill myself, and now I'm much better than that thanks to being granted the space and time to get better and the support and love of my few friends and family, but it's been on my mind a lot lately too. I am not going to hurt myself in any capacity, but I guess I feel like there's nothing for me. I used to want to die as like, a response to needing to escape, and then it was because I couldn't handle the extreme anxiety I was experiencing, but these days I don't feel I need to escape where I am nor do I get so achingly anxious, but there is this unamed absence. I don't want to move forward anymore, because I feel like there's nothing to move forward into, I think? I don't have much passion for anything but that isn't me saying I'm not happy! Because I'm so happy when I'm talking to my friend or when I'm with my sisters, but by myself I don't want to really go on. I think I'm wondering if other people know what i mean? I know I've spoken on here before about the loneliness I was suffering with, and I know now that I'm not alone in that. But I don't know if it's normal to feel this way. It's starkly different to how I wanted to hurt myself in the past. I never would, because I love my family and I don't want to hurt them, and I don't believe there's nothing to live for. But not much, either.

I'm not sure if it's dissatisfaction, or I'm just having a moment, but now I finally have all the things I was striving for but couldn't maintain when I was suicidal, a job and education and general wellness, I can't help noticing that there's still something wrong. I'm worried that it's just me, and that I'm gonna feel this way because I am this way. I'm really worried I have nothing to offer to the world or my family and I think I've been trying to compensate for that with the wrong things. Right now I am struggling to feel a connection to everything, or a desire to do one particular thing, is this a common feeling? Not to be silly but is it just depression, or is it nothing like that? I don't want to do anything anymore besides sit in bed, but I'm constantly aware of time passing, and even when I'm in bed I don't actually want to be in bed, I want to distract myself, but I don't enjoy any of the distractions. I guess, altogether, in one big sum up, I feel like I have no value as a person and that my life has nothing for me either.

Again though, I am not in any danger of hurting myself or doing anything like that and this isn't meant to worry anybody, I'm hoping someone knows what I'm feeling is all