#and were it not for the fact that you know better you would never see anything but a normal child

[tethrawke]

Rook was sidelined so hard, I would really love to know what on earth the live service concept was that was the birth of this mess. I have never cared about a character less. The fact that they cut out Varric's recruitment mission so we never actually SEE why Rook is so much more suited to leading than Harding doesn't help. I mean wasn't Harding the scout leader in Inquisition? It's not like she has 0 experience being in charge? But it feels like... Rook has 0 experience being in charge? I never SAW Rook being a leader before Varric handed over the reigns. And yeah. Rook on their own doesn't do anything? The companions collect the leads and tell you what to do next.

Okay so maybe Rook's job is making sure they all work together. Rook is the manager, not the SME. Fine. Except, they don't need Rook. They all get along PERFECTLY FINE WITHOUT ROOK. There's a little bit of friction with Taash/Emmrich but lbr they'd have figured this out alone or with a different companion's help. Lucanis/Davrin solve their issue alone. If Rook disappeared all of a sudden, those people would still work together just fine... And they do in the last act, literally creating a fake dagger all on their own out of NOWHERE?? Rook never had an idea like that lol. And they save Rook completely on their own too. Like they just. Don't need Rook. At all. If Rook disappeared, Harding or Neve would easily take over and people would follow them. Not to mention how Rook wasn't included in anything ever and always felt like an awkward outsider who wasn't actually invited to the party, but came because they ASSUMED they were when everyone else was talking about it, but no one wanted them to come? If you've seen the B99 episode of the gang going on a trip with Holt where they have their private fun party in the basement while the boring "boss" party no one wants to be at is happening upstairs... That's how I felt the whole game.

I will say though, world-ending odds or not, Hawke was just a much better protagonist because Hawke WAS A PROTAGONIST. The people in Hawke's life literally would never have become friends without Hawke. Some of them still hate each other by the end but endure for Hawke. Like they're all literally only in the group for/because of Hawke. And Hawke quite literally changes who they are as people and has a massive effect on their lives. The choices you make as Hawke for your friends and the city MATTER. The Veilguard choices just... Don't. The only choice that truly matters is the Emmrich one. Everything else is just a skin preference. It has no actual effect on the game or how the characters act. It's the illusion of choice and you KNOW it won't matter in the next DA, if there ever is one.

Rook as a character is just... Desperately bad, and I'm very sad about it. I mean the Inquisitor was such a bland pancake of a person as well with no real past or personality, but I ended up caring about them because of their relationship with the companions, who provided the seasoning and toppings to their bland pancake stack. I felt like they actually cared about the MC and they all had interesting, deep relationships with Inky. I just feel like... the Veilguard crew would literally not notice if Rook just said "fuck this shit" and dipped halfway through the game. I mean no one even noticed I didn't know Varric was dead? Be real 💀

What’s really jumping out at me on my second playthrough is that the writers of the first three games understood that your character was the main character. The Veilguard writers clearly thought that the main characters were their characters, the companions.

Every scene is about setting the companions up as cool or competent or sympathetic. Often, this is done at Rook’s expense. The companions get all the witty one-liners; Rook’s attempts at humor not only frequently fall flat, but are frequently called out for falling flat (even when they’re completely automatic and the player has no say in them).

The companions have all the knowledge and skills; Rook just brought them all together and gives them all pep talks so they can focus. I’m trying to edit out all of the comments where Rook is like “Um… what????” from my videos, and let me tell you, it takes WORK. There are A LOT of them. I can count on one hand the number of times when the Inquisitor or Hawke comes across as dumb, but it seems to be a built-in, unavoidable part of Rook’s character. I have not selected a single “purple” option in all of Act 1, and Rook is still coming across as the kid who tries to be the class clown to cover for the fact that he’s always confused. Rook’s role in most scenes is to say “Uhhh… what?” so that the companions look smart.

Rook is always the one offering sympathy and never the one getting it. No one actually comes to comfort you after Varric’s death. No one asks you how you’re feeling about having to lead the team now that Varric is gone. No one tries to reassure you or give you advice for dealing with the trickster god haunting your dreams. We’re told that Neve could keep Solas out of your head, but she never actually offers to do this for you. No one comforts a Shadow Dragon Rook when Minrathous is destroyed or a Grey Warden Rook when Weisshaupt is destroyed. Rook’s problems don’t matter. Only the problems of main characters matter.

Rook is a secondary character in their own story.

[azsazz]

At Fault

Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: HAPPY NEW YEAR!! AUTHOR! ⭐🎀 Could u make a rhysand x reader where reader is misunderstood as a mole and tortured and stuffs by rhys himself? Uk what i mean, right 😭

Like lots of angst but a bit smut sprinkled on top?

Warnings: Torture, blood, cuts, smut, oral (f receiving).

Word Count: 3347

Notes: Well, now that I don't have tiktok anymore, that means that theoretically i should have more time for fics, right? 😭

_________________________________________

“I’m not asking again,” the male spits, growling in your face. You’ve watched his eyes darken to black with each minute of torture that passes. His voice is a knife all on its own, and he leans so far into you that you can feel the scrape of his teeth against the apple of your cheek when he speaks. “Who do you work for.”

You might answer if you could. No, you know you’ve answered this question before, the winged male just doesn’t believe you. You’ve been here for days, limbs wound tightly to the uncomfortable chair they tied you to as soon as they caught you in the thicket of their border.

If you could gather enough saliva in your mouth, you’d use it to spit right back in his face. You would savor that much more than swallowing it in a futile attempt to wet your throat. It’s been days—months?—since you were ambushed in the middle of the woods, on your trek through the Night Court lands to deliver a message from your mother.

Your voice is a barely-there rasp. You wish you could scream and yell, shout like the first days you were in this dungeon, trapped with only the blue glow from the stones adorning your torturer’s armor. With the way he squeezes your jaw in his harsh grip, it pains you to speak.

“I already told you,” you add as much vitriol as you can muster. “I’m from the Night Court.”

The male releases you with an annoyed snarl. You stretch your mouth, watching as he turns his back from you. His wings are tucked tightly to his back, and you can’t help the stab of jealousy that accompanies the sight of them. He steps closer to the table where his glistening weapons lie. The glimmer of his azure gems gleam across the metal, and you shiver when you catch the short, sharp knife that he’d spent hours nicking your flesh with. He’d spent the following hour cleaning your blood from the blade before polishing said weapon, all whilst goading you into admitting where you came from.

The funny thing is, you aren’t lying. You’re from the Night Court, the Illyrian camps in fact. Ironhelm is a recent development, made up of females and children and even a few males who wanted a better life for themselves. A revolt of sorts. Ones who could no longer suffer under the reign of warlords who praise nothing but violence.

If the male lifted the back of your shirt like you pleaded a thousand times, he would see the deep scarring from where your wings would be, if you still had them.

If he brought the High Lord to you like you asked for, you wouldn’t be trapped in the depths of the Night Court. You wouldn’t be battered and bruised, wouldn’t be on the verge of starvation, wouldn’t be moments away from passing out from dehydration.

The male plucks a new weapon for today’s session after examining a few different weapons. The blade he turns with has a harsh curve to it, and you’re not sure it’s purpose, but it looks menacing as fuck.

You straighten in your chair, wincing when the restraints pull at your already tender skin. Your wrists are rubbed raw from the way you squirmed in pain beneath his blades, from every time you writhed in a desperate attempt to escape. They never loosened a centimeter, and they feel tighter around your swollen limbs than they did the first time you attempted to free yourself.

“No,” you beg, kicking your legs against the ties. It’s useless, you’re not going anywhere, forced to suffer indescribable pain when all you had to do was deliver a message to the High Lord himself. “Please! I’m telling you; I’m from the Night Court. Stop!”

You can see your reflection in the weapon as it draws near. You look like you feel, like you were dragged here from Ironhelm by your hair. Your eyes have deep purple rings around them, your skin sunken and littered with wounds, both scabbed and fresh.

The male gives pause, eyes taking on a sheen to them that you haven’t seen before. Like his focus is half on you, half on something else. But there’s no one here, no one but you, him, and the blade in his hand that you’re pretty sure has a name of its own, too.

Your heart is in your throat. It gives a hearty pump with each passing second. This is worse, you think, the looming threat of death only inches from your face, the anticipation of a brush against your skin.

“Fine,” he mutters, and you’re not sure if he’s talking to you, but there’s no one else here. You don’t know what he means until the knife inches further and further from you as he retracts, pinning you to your chair with an ice-cold glare that freezes the exhale of relief in your lungs.

With that as his last word, the male disappears into a mist of shadow, and you’re alone.

There’s no time to catch your breath, to rest your eyes or dry the tears that have somehow managed to slip from your eyes without your knowledge. Something worse is coming, you can feel it in the air, the crackle of power that fills the room. The walls tremble and you hiss as the chair you’re in jolts, your restraints buzzing against your raw skin. The temperature drops further, and you can see your breath, just as a figure appears in front of you.

His presence makes you cower, shrinking into your seat. There’s a feeling of wrongness in the air, one that has the soldered wounds on your back burn with phantom pain. Or, perhaps the pain is real. You can’t tell.

“Who—” you stutter, afraid to even ask. “Who’s there?”

A low rumble shakes the room. No, it’s in your head. It crawls up your spine and takes root in your mind.

It’s not just a rumble.

It’s laughter.

“Wha-what?” You shriek. You’re too exhausted, too out of your mind to realize that it’s the High Lord. You’ve heard of what he can do, how he crawls into the minds of fae like a spider, quietly and discreetly weaving webs of intricate lies, making them forget who they are and become the soldiers and spies he wants them to be. Such tales had been shit spit from mouths of the Illyrian’s you grew up around, before you escaped to Ironhelm. They are the only stories of the ruler of the Night Court that you know.

And now he’s here to do just that to you.

Your scream doesn’t even escape your throat. You’re frozen to the spot, eyes wide with fear, spine arched against the chair. You struggle against the magic that keeps you from moving, but it’s no use, you’re like a rat trapped in a maze of the High Lord’s own creation, and the maze is you.

The male steps closer. With a sharp snap that stings your ears, a faelight illuminates the dungeon. Your eyes burn, but you can’t even squint them against the light. You can’t move a muscle. Can barely even breathe.

Violent, violet eyes are the first thing you notice. They’re sharp, and they bore into yours so deeply that something twists just barely inside of you. You can’t tell if it’s your own doing or his, since you’re trapped in his clutches. The lines of his face are even more beautiful, and if you weren’t struggling to breathe already, you sure are now.

His nose is straight, the perfect slope. His mouth is a thing of wonder, and you stare at it for a moment longer than you probably should. His face is set in perfect neutrality, giving nothing away.

Dark hair frames his temples in perfect whisps. If you weren’t trapped under his command, weren’t chained to a chair in his torture chamber, you might like to run your hands through it. Atop his head sits a gleaming onyx crown, each spoke inlaid with what you can only assume are rare and expensive gems.

His posture exudes royalty, as do his clothes. The sleeves of his button up shirt are rolled to his elbows, like he has plans other than slithering around in your mind to take a more hands-on approach to extract information from you. You’d willingly give it to him, have been giving it to the blue-stoned crony of his, who refused to believe the truth that spilled from your mouth.

Hopefully, the High Lord will believe you.

It's not looking like a good start.

Who are you? His voice has a hard edge to it that doesn’t sound right. Like he’s putting on a front for you. You’d imagine his tone to be regal and silky, not this gravely tone that still stirs something between your legs.

Wow. Trapped for days, on the verge of starvation, and tortured and bloody, but your cunt is alive and well.

The corner of his mouth twitches and your face flares red. You’d forgotten that he was still in your mind.

You stretch your jaw when he releases your muscles to do so. The fire you felt in his companion’s presence has eked from your body. The disuse of your limbs has drained all the fight from your body and replaced it with fear.

Well, fear and a little bit of arousal. What the fuck?

Your name, he commands again.

You speak it out loud, though you sound no louder than a mouse. Being in the presence of such power is intimidating. Thus far, the stories hold true. As you think this, something flashes in his violet eyes too quickly for you to catch. You furrow your brows in confusion, but your focus is pulled back to the matter at hand when the High Lord asks you another question.

Where do you hail from?

Ironhelm, you respond.

Ah. He knows of the territory vaguely, but has not been out to visit the newest camp himself. He remembers signing the papers to make Ironhelm its own camp, thought it was nothing but a good idea, which has him wondering why, if you come from a safe haven, that you’re sitting in a chair with cuts and bruises on your body.

Suddenly, something about all of this isn’t sitting right with the High Lord.

Ironhelm? He questions, and you nod, tiredly. Your body slumps in the chair as he releases you from his clutches. The High Lord steps forward as if to catch you, but the ropes around your torso keep you upright.

There’s a feeling of wrongness in his gut. Guilt. Remorse. Shame. With a snap of his fingers, your bindings are gone, as well as the dirt and grime from your time spent in this dungeon.

He can do nothing about your wounds, so he says, “I will have a healer come look at you when we’re finished here.”

His tone is much softer, you think that’s what shocks you the most. No, perhaps it’s the way that his entire demeanor has changed now that he knows where you come from. Those dangerous eyes soften, his shoulders ease.

Why the fuck didn’t his spy tell him where you were from? You distinctly remember repeating over and over while he took a blade to your skin your camp’s name.

“That’s it?” you all but hiss as you rub your tender wrists, rubbed raw from the ropes. “I tell you where I’m from and you release me?” You’d sound angrier, if you had the energy.

The High Lord steps closer and crouches to your level. You almost rear back in your chair with how close he is, close enough that you could lift your foot and touch him with your toes. He even more beautiful up close, and you shake your head of that particular distraction.

“You must forgive my shadowsinger and I,” he says softly, like he’s trying not to scare you away. “There have been an influx of spies crawling around my lands. Some are very well trained. We can’t be too cautious with what we believe.”

He’d have been here earlier if he could have but a meeting with the Winter Court kept him away. Azriel’s reports through the mind connection each night were vague enough to let Rhysand know that you weren’t talking, but that his spymaster would make sure you would soon.

You don’t know what to say to that, staring at the High Lord wearily. It’s not that you don’t believe him, but…no, wait, it’s exactly that you don’t believe him. Not after the shit you’ve gone through the past…however long you’ve been trapped down here.

“You don’t forgive me,” he murmurs, and fuck, you forgot that he can read exactly what you’re thinking. Like how you find that wrinkle that forms between his brows endearing. His violet eyes flicker to yours for a second, and there’s that feeling in your gut, like butterflies taking off, before he glances down at his folded hands, deep in thought.

“I’d like to forgive you, High Lord,” you say, but you’re not entirely sure that you mean it. He does look guilty for what has happened with you, but you think you’d prefer to deliver your message and get out of here as fast as possible, exhaustion and hunger be damned. “But your apology does not atone the horrors I bore in your care.”

He nods graciously. His knees hit the dirty, hard ground and the sight of him with a gleaming crown on his head, kneeling before you, ignites something within you. Your cunt throbs and your nipples tighten beneath your shift.

The High Lord inhales deeply, his chest moving with the motion. His entire display is so primal that it has your chest heaving in much the same way. The sorrow in his eyes sharpens again, this time into something much headier.

This time, when he speaks, his tone is deeper, gravellier. “I’d like to apologize again,” he says, inching closer. You should slam your thighs closed before he moves any closer, you really should, but he looks more than ready to beg for your forgiveness. You don’t get the chance to, anyway, because his palms are suddenly on your thighs, slowly dragging closer and closer to the apex of your thighs. “Try to make it up to you. If you’ll let me.”

Your body trembles beneath his searing touch. If your mouth wasn’t already a desert, it would most definitely be one now. Your fingers are wound around the arms of the chair like a vice, knuckles drained of all color.

You stare down at him between your legs. The gleaming crown on his head. His hands come to a halt at the juncture of your hips and thighs, thumbs close enough to brush over the seam of your trousers. You bite your lip, holding in the desperate noise that threatens to spill from your lips. You find that this is an apology that you’d very much like to see. To feel.

“Yes, High Lord,” you breathe.

“Rhysand,” he replies, sternly. Your cunts throbs at the demand.

“Yes, Rhysand,” you whisper. And in a single wave of his hand, your clothes are gone.

You gasp at the sudden shift in your attire. Your nipples tighten at the cool, damp air that washes over your body in a wave. Rhysand’s thumbs soothe you back into the chair, a soft hush has you leaning back and nervously spreading your legs wider.

Rhysand takes his fill, staring right at the beauty between your legs. He inhales the scent of you deeply, committing it to memory. Sweet, forgiving. He drinks it in like a drug.

He hooks his hands in the crook of your knees and tugs you to the edge of the chair. Eagerly, he helps you rearrange your legs over his shoulders, and then he sticks his face right into your cunt and ravages you.

“Oh,” you cry out, arching for him immediately. Rhysand licks a stripe from top to bottom before swirling it around your clit. Your thighs immediately try to close around his head at the feeling and he smiles into your cunt, before he continues eating ravenously.

Your fingers find his hair, slipping between the spires and into the silky strands, holding his face to your cunt. Your hips move, grinding into his face. You’re dripping and he’s eagerly lapping up your slick like a starved male. It’s too much, it’s too good, he’s too perfect.

Rhysand is skilled with his tongue in more ways than one. He licks, he twists, he sticks it as deep into your cunt as it will go, especially enjoying the deep cry of pleasure you let out when he begins to tongue-fuck you. He peeks up at you, wishing your head wasn’t thrown back over the back of the chair. He’d use his power to force your head up so that he can see if the pretty noises you’re making match the look on your face, but you’ve been through too much since arriving in his town, and he’s going to be making this up to you for however long he can convince you to stay.

His cock throbs in his pants. It aches to be unleashed, to find home in this perfect fucking cunt he’s devouring, but this moment is all about you. Once you cum on his tongue, he’s going to add his fingers, and once you cum on his fingers, he’s going to winnow the both of you to his bedroom where he’ll pamper you with his luxurious bath, with a hearty meal, and a bed so comfortable it won’t be possible to get inside of you tonight with how quickly you’ll fall asleep.

There’s this niggling in the back of his mind, urging him to take you, to take care of you. He doesn’t know what it is, but he likes it all the same, wants to listen to it.

Your body distracts him when it constricts, your cunt hugging his tongue as you near your edge. Your back arches at an impossible angle. Your hand flies to your breast, tweaking your nipple while the other stays buried deeply in Rhysand’s hair, though you have to do little to guide him.

He diverts his attention to your clit, suckling before trapping it between a soft bite and flicking his tongue up and down like he’s made for it. Your body threatens to collapse, but his hands clamp down on your legs as he moves impossibly quicker, driving you right over the edge.

You cum with a scream that echoes long after your voice gives out. You writhe, violently, riding out your blissful high. You’ve never felt anything quite like this, and it’s the best apology you’ve ever received in your life.

Rhysand’s movements slow, guiding you through your orgasm. Each sweep of his tongue sends aftershocks to your clit until you’re a whimpering mess and the hand in his hair is trying to shove him off. After one last fierce lick, one that shows you that he isn’t done with you yet, does he pull away.

This sight of the High Lord licking the taste of you off of his lips does something to you. Stirs up that feeling again, the one that feels like it’s been roused from a thousand-year slumber.

“Do you forgive me yet, darling?”

You pretend to think for a moment, biting your lip to smother the pleased smile you want to give. He’s still very much planted between your legs, pressing soft kisses to the insides of your thighs, looking much less like the menacing High Lord he was when he appeared in the darkness.

“No,” you answer, heart jumping at the challenge that fills his violet eyes. “I don’t think I forgive you, yet.”

“Then I’ll continue until you find it inside of yourself to do just that, darling,” he purrs, and sticks a finger inside of you.

[kuroosatoru]

all to myself - mechanic!toji nsfw oneshot

cw: nsfw!!!, size kink, head(giving and receiving), switch!toji, dilftoji, coworker trope ig, unprotected p in v, he cleans you up ;), not proofread;-;

wc: 2k (yeahhhh it gets pretty steamy, buckle up buttercup)

the summer heat was starting to get to you, the ac in the shop had been broken for a while now and it's not like your boss was making a point to get it fixed. you finish putting a new battery in a car as a bead of sweat crept down your face, preemptively turning around as you see toji's reflection in the silver of the hood, "are you sure you've got that? i wouldn't want you to hurt yourself, doll." he asks, poking fun at the fact you were too small to be working on cars in the first place. you laugh dryly, "seems easy enough if you can do it, does it not?" you reply, causing toji to take a step back. "hey my fault being concerned. boss wants ya though." toji says, his tone had shifted, and you couldn't help but worry that you hurt his feelings, "oh, alright. i'll head over there when in a minute." you reply. toji nods, walking away briskly.

toji was a confusing man, flirting with you one day and completely ignoring you the next. it should've turned you away from him, but if anything, it just made you more interested in the older man.

it's only here do you realize just how good the dark haired man looks in his uniform, his grease-stained coveralls tied around his waist, revealing the black tank underneath, which hugged his pecs and exposed his large arms. your mind began to wander, and toji could feel eyes on him, "it's not nice to stare, y/n!" he yells across the garage with a sly smirk. having been called out, you start to blush and turn around, unable to find something to say back to him. usually, the two of you would have kept going, but something had changed. you say your end of service spiel to the customer, lead them back to their vehicle and make your way into the bosses' office.

-

you reach the end of your shift, and now it's just you and toji closing up shop. after mopping the floor and counting the register, it's time for you to get changed out of your coveralls and head home. you open the door and start to get undressed when you hear the door open behind you, "oh! sorry i can wait." you exclaim, aware that toji needs to pick megumi up from daycare. he licks his lips, "nah, it's okay, doll. ladies first." he says, backing out of the room. you turn to lock the door, but you decide to leave it open just a crack, hopeful toji would come back or better yet, take you home with him.

you shimmy out of your uniform, and toji watches from the inviting crack in the door. unable to take his eyes away from your beautifully greasy and sweaty body, the way your panties hugged your hips made his throat dry. his mind wandering and leading him to his thick, long, cock making your stomach puff up. he decided then and there that he wanted, no, needed to be inside of you. you turn around, noticing toji,"fuhisguro! what are you doing?" you exclaim sarcastically, opening the door. "oh you don't know what you do to me, y/n." toji practically whispers, closing and finally locking the door behind him, his cock was already twitching at just the thought of finally having you to himself. despite the two of you being alone, you got excited at the potential of getting caught.

toji towered over you, his eyes now darkened with lust. you reach for his bulge and he lets out a moan so small, you swear you misheard him, "oh i think i do." you say, untying his coveralls. your fingers graze his waistband and he flinches. "is this okay?" you ask, slightly concerned you did something wrong. toji looks down at you, "you never have to ask, doll. 's just been a while." you nod, taking the tip of his member into your mouth, swirling your tongue around as he whimpers.

"fuck, y/n." he mumbles, thrusting his cock deeper into your throat, causing you to grip his muscular thighs for stability as you gag a little bit. you dig your nails in, sending chills down his spine; he grabs your hair with one hand and uses the other to wipe the sweat from his forehead. toji can barely handle it, and he lets out a moan as he finishes in your throat.

"shit, i'm sorry. i didn't mean to." he stutters out as he takes his semi-hard member out of your mouth. you smile and swallow his load, making him blush, "it's okay, toji. but what do you want to do now?" you ask with a slight smile as you stand up.

"well, doll. i gotta pick up the kid, so [...]" he trails off, grabbing a shop rag to wipe himself clean. you both put on your normal clothes and head out to your cars so you can go back to your respective homes.

-

toji could not stop thinking about you whatsoever, and while the blowjob was mind-blowing, he was stuck up on the fact that he never returned the favor. so, after dropping off gumi at his friends house, he decided to go to your place. hoping you decided to stay in for the day. toji arrives and you open the door for him, surprised to see him, "oh? what are you doing here?" you ask playfully. stepping aside to let him in, you finally get the chance to see him the way you've always iamagined.

today toji had on basketball shorts, which didn't leave much left to imagine, not that the burning image of his cock shoved into your mouth wasn't bright as day, but still. you had just gotten out of the shower when he answered, so you had on nothing but a thin robe, causing toji's mouth to water as he imagined the beautiful body underneath. "y/n, i can't stop thinking about that night." he admits to you sheepishly as you lead him to your couch.

"if you sit down, i can do it again," you reply with a smirk, patting the couch next to you. toji shakes his head, "no, doll. i wanted to taste you." he says, now standing in front of you, nudging your legs open with his knee.

"mmm, please?" he urges, taking your hand in his, getting onto his knees. you take a second to think about it, and open your legs to let him in, but not before taking a second to actually look at him. he's rugged. his black hair tousled into a sexily messy pile as his dark eyes looked into yours. you can tell he hasn't shaved in a while, his stubble starting to come back, but you decided that wouldn't be an issue. you needed this.

toji reaches his and towards your now throbbing clit, "oh you're so wet for me, doll," he smirks, finally touching you as you moan in respose. his large digits slide into you as he runs his tongue along your folds, he smiles to himself when he feels you tightening around his fingers. seeing how you moved your hips to have more of him was causing a tent to form in his shorts and he groans against you as he gently takes your clit into his mouth, and you can feel your legs tremble already. you can feel yourself about to finish, and toji can too. your wanton moans filled the room as he kept eating you out.

and then he stops, taking his fingers out of you and putting them into his mouth to suck them clean. "tojiiii," you whine in response, "i wasn't done yet." he smirks at you, any part of his personailty now taken over by lust. he leans forward to kiss you, "im sorry, but i need to be inside of you, doll." he says. as he takes his shorts off to reveal his member, you see the precum leaking from the tip.

he places his fingers on your lips, "open up, pretty girl, i want you to tatse youself too." he commands, and as you suck on his digits, he lets out a loud moan, "mmm, that's a good girl."

toji takes his fingers out of your mouth and uses your spit to lubricate himself, the tip of his dick now positioned at your entrance, begging to be let in. you nod at him, "go ahead, i can take it."

toji is big, much bigger than you've ever had, your face twists in a slight discomfort as you feel yourself stretch around him, "oh you poor thing, not used to having a real man eh?" toji remarks, starting his routine of gentle, short strokes into you. if we're being honest, you weren't 'used to' anything toji did, his deceiving demeanor constantly surprising you.

you wrap your legs around toji as he starts to speed up his thrusts, his long cock poking at your g-spot as you dig your nails into his back.

toji felt the knot in the pit of this stomach tighten as his thrusts got rougher, the rhythm he once had being taken away by how intoxicating your pussy was to him. he buries his face in your neck and leaves bite marks trailing down to your shoulder, "y/n," he warned, "i'm close." maybe he didn't mind having another kid he thought to himself as he saw your face contorting to reflect the intense pleasure his body brought you, "mmmh, too." you mumble, his cock causing you to lose all sense of self as your legs push yourself away from him in a futile attempt to move.

"nuh-uh, doll. no running away this time," toji whispers as he pulls you back to him. now, he's bottomed out, the tip of his member making a clear bump towards the bottom of your stomach. you look down at the symphony of squelching the two of you are making and you cum around toji, gripping his shoulders to stop yourself from ascending to the heavens as your vision turns white. toji grips your hips and proceeds to use you to finish himself off, and you can't say you hated being his toy.

"oh holy shit, y/n. you feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock, look at you, taking it like a good girl." toji says with a whimper as he finishes inside of you. he doesn't pull out right away, in fact, he never wants this moment to end. with your face contorted in pleasure as your sweet pussy was still gripping him, he thinks to himself maybe i don't mind having another kid.

the puzzle the two of you were entangled in dissipated as the grip you had on toji got exceedingly weaker. your legs fall, letting him pull out. the mixture of your fluids soon started to fall from your legs and as you reach for something to clean yourself up with, he stops you. "i want to do it," he says eagerly, your brain unable to decipher what he meant after toji had you reach your limit just now. "okay, but you have to be gentle," you reply sheepishly, willing to take yourself as far as toji would help you along the way. he grins, excited that you're willing to be his toy.

toji gets back into his well-earned spot in-between your legs, your pussy slightly red from the fun he had just had with you. he blows a cold breath onto you, causing you to flinch in excitement. he kisses your entrance before sticking his tongue inside of you, swirling it in circles just how you did when you started this whole thing. you throw your head back against the couch you honestly forgot you were on and scream, "oh god toji, p-please don't stop." your eyes meet as he starts to rub your clit with his thumb.

"oh don't worry, doll. you're my new favorite toy," he says without taking his mouth off of you. you're barely holding on and you know you should've been done a long time ago, but who would've known toji had this much in him? who could've thought he'd have so much of himself in you?

notes: sorry if it's rough! but wow oh wow has this been something ive thought of a lot. i hope you enjoyed xoxo - jib

[hannieehaee]

Lunaaa, how have you been? Hope you’re well

How do you think svt would act when they’re interested but can’t tell if reader is into them too?

crushing on reader but unsure if it's mutual

content: implied mutual crush, some nervousness and embarrassment, fluff, etc.

wc: 848

a/n: this was such a cute concept thank u for requesting!!

masterlist

seungcheol -

for some reason i feel like he'd be so awkward and sheepish around you. he'd wanna flirt or make his interest known, but he wouldn't know how far he could go before embarrassing himself. it'd be one of the few instances in which he'd be in out of his depth.

jeonghan -

he's chilling. he knows most people he meets either find him attractive or are attracted to him, so he would probably convince himself (rightfully so) that you'd like him back. and even if you didn't like him back, he'd be confident he could get you there with his humor, looks, personality, etc.

joshua -

he'll be incredibly chill about it. i find it hard to believe that he'd ever feel insecure about a crush, even if he wasn't sure if it was mutual or not. seems the type to want to either confess or be very obvious about it in order to gauge your interest. from his experience, the feelings would probably be mutual.

jun -

would be a little on the shier side. the only way he'd really interact with you would be through forced proximity such as mutual friends or a shared job. he'd latch onto this to try and gauge your feelings and become closer to you, wanting to at least form a friendship and then maybe try and let it grow into more. his crush would grow bigger the closer you got.

soonyoung -

he's shy but at the same time he's so painfully obvious. would not outwardly confess but he'd be sosososososo obvious that it'd be impossible for anyone to not know about his crush. he'd be the only one unaware of how obvious he was. in his mind, he'd be playing the long game, attempting to get to know you so it'd be easier to make you fall for him back.

wonwoo -

i cant imagine a world where wonwoo's crush isnt 100% reciprocated and he's not completely aware of that fact. butttt at the same time i think he might be a little unaware of his surroundings at times, so there's a chance his own crush on you would blind him from your mutual crush on him. he would not flirt, but would rather just be a little extra nice to you, shyly trying to get closer than he would with any other friends.

jihoon -

having a crush on its own would make him into such a blushy, fumbly mess. he'd stammer his way through every sentence with you, blushing and avoiding eye contact at all costs. would never even consider the crush being mutual, so he'd destine himself to shy interactions with you until you make the first move.

seokmin -

for once in his life, he'd be so shy and sheepish, having to reel in his super friendly and bubbly personality due to fear that if he got too close he'd be too obvious about his crush. would still be super sweet to you, but any outsider would be able to tell he treats you differently from everybody else.

mingyu -

even if he wasn't sure whether it was mutual or not, he'd still flirt with you as much as he could, but would still try and be sorta lowkey about it. would make his crush everyone's business (except for you), not letting his uncertainty deter him from continuing to stay as close to you as possible.

minghao -

i think he's probably very good at reading people, so he'd be able to easily gauge whether you liked him back or not. he'd want to be friends first, both to get to know you better and to make sure you were interested too. would not be too obvious about it and maybeeeee even a little bit shy, earning some teasing from your mutual friends.

seungkwan -

he'd be soooooooo shy god. so shy and awkward about it all, not knowing how to go about finding out if the feelings were mutual. he'd probably be more likely to ask a mutual friend to talk him up to you so he could check to see if it was safe for him to ask you out without humiliating himself. he'd probably be very annoying about it to his friends lmao always talking about you and being overall lovesick.

vernon -

as chill as he'd want to be about it, he'd still be kind of overly self-aware while around you. his eyes would always find you whenever he said a joke, trying to check for any signs that you favored him in a crush type of way. he'd try to hang with you alone, but would usually chicken out, not wanting to be too obvious without knowing whether or not you were also interested.

chan -

i dont think he could ever hide a crush, specially not with all his friends making it super obvious. he'd ask his friends for help to see if you liked him back, which would prove to be a mistake bc it'd just make it all the more obvious. would not be embarrassed by his feelings but by being too obvious and lame about it lmao.

[elikajinnie]

HI!!! can you do the enhypen prompt 16 and 17 with jay?? thank yoouu

P: Boyfriend!Jay X Fem Reader

Warnings: Suggestive Content, Whipped!Jay, we love a man who begs

note: i had time.. so yeah :) This for all my ladies who wear lacey underwear underneath the baggy clothes ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

16. "Do you want me to beg? Because I will." 17. "One more taste, and I swear I’ll lose control."

Jay absolutely loved seeing you, no matter the occasion or what you decided to wear. It didn’t matter if it was a casual hoodie and jeans, a simple summer dress, or the formal gown you once claimed didn’t suit you—it all reminded him of how breathtakingly beautiful you were. And to Jay, there was no arguing against that fact.

He could never understand why you sometimes doubted yourself, saying things like, “I don’t feel pretty today” or “This outfit doesn’t look good on me.” To him, those words simply didn’t make sense. He saw you through a lens tinted with love and admiration, one that made every aspect of you seem flawless. Your beauty wasn’t just about how you looked; it was in the way you carried yourself, the way you laughed, the way you treated others with kindness even when you didn’t have to.

In Jay’s mind, no other woman in the world could ever compare to you. Sure, there were plenty of beautiful women out there, but they weren’t you. You were the one who made him smile just by walking into a room. You were the one who knew him better than he knew himself sometimes, who made him feel safe, valued, and loved. You were the one he’d chosen, and to him, that made you irreplaceable.

There was also a quiet possessiveness about the way he adored you. Not in a controlling or overbearing way, but in the way he took pride in calling you his girlfriend. When he introduced you to his friends or casually mentioned you in conversation, there was always a flicker of pride in his voice. Jay loved showing you off, not because he wanted others to envy him (though, secretly, he didn’t mind if they did), but because he couldn’t help being proud of the fact that you were his.

And in his heart, Jay already knew he wanted you to be more than his girlfriend one day. He often imagined the moment he would ask you to marry him, rehearsing it in his mind and wondering how you might react. He didn’t want to rush you—he’d wait for as long as it took for you to be ready to take that step. But until then, he was more than happy to call you his girlfriend. To him, the title meant everything because it meant you were his, and he was yours.

Every day spent with you was a reminder of how lucky he was, and Jay never wanted you to forget how much he cherished you. In his eyes, you weren’t just beautiful; you were the kind of special that made him believe in soulmates.

He wanted you to be his forever. The thought of waking up next to you every morning, seeing you smile at him as the sunlight filtered through the curtains, was a dream he was determined to make a reality. Jay had no secrets when it came to you. He was like an open book, willingly laying himself bare in front of you, no matter how vulnerable it made him feel.

He trusted you with every corner of his soul, even the parts of himself he once thought were too messy or complicated to share with anyone. With you, there was no hesitation. If something was weighing on his mind, he told you. If he had a silly thought or a random idea, you were the first to hear it. If he made a mistake, he admitted it without shame, knowing you would never judge him harshly.

This honesty, though, also meant that his feelings for you spilled out in the most unfiltered ways. He would often find himself confessing just how much he loved you, even in the smallest, most casual moments. You could be doing something as mundane as scrolling through your phone, and Jay would blurt out, “I love you.” He couldn’t help himself really. His emotions for you were always bubbling just beneath the surface, waiting for the slightest excuse to overflow.

But there was more to his honesty than just his love—there was his desire, too. Jay wasn’t shy about how much he was drawn to you, how you had this effortless ability to captivate him in ways no one else ever could. It was in the way his eyes lingered on you a little too long when you weren’t looking, or the way he would lean in just a little closer than necessary when you spoke.

Sometimes, his words would betray just how deeply he craved you. It wasn’t always something he could control, especially when the thought of you consumed him in the best of ways. You could feel it in the way his hands would gently brush against yours, as if he was trying to be close to you without seeming too eager, but you both knew better.

“I can’t get you out of my head,” he’d admit sometimes. It wasn’t an exaggeration. He often found himself lost in thoughts of you, even when he should have been focused on other things. He would catch himself daydreaming, imagining the soft curve of your smile or the way you looked when you were nestled against him, your head resting on his chest.

Jay was always ready to voice what was on his mind, he wasn’t one to hide his thoughts, especially when it came to you. He didn’t even try to filter his reactions, which made everything he said feel honest.

You had just finished drying your hair after stepping out of the shower, the warmth of the dryer against your skin leaving a pleasant feeling while the bathroom smelled of the shampoo you liked. You stood in your simple, comfortable clothes, the fabric of your loose clothes falling over your skin, paired with a pair of lace underwear that you had bought on your birthday months ago.

It had been tucked away in the back of your closet, forgotten until now. You had never gotten the chance to wear it before, so when you found it still in its bag, the tag untouched, you decided today was the day. You had ripped the tag off without hesitation, and slipped it on, and now you found yourself rediscovering exactly why you had bought it. The way it felt against your skin, the way it hugged your curves, and the way it made you feel undeniably feminine—it was all so perfect.

You stood there for a moment, lost in your own thoughts, admiring the way it made you feel. But you were quickly pulled from your thoughts by the sudden knock on the bathroom door. “Are you finished in there?” Jay’s voice called out.

You quickly turned off the blow dryer and put it away, brushing a few stray strands of hair out of your face as you made your way to the door. You opened it to find Jay standing there with a laundry basket in his arms, his usual smile gracing his face. But when his eyes met yours, they flickered down for a brief second and up. Then, in a split second, they darted downwards again, clearly noticing the lace peeking out from under your clothes.

For a split second, he didn’t react—his eyes widened, and you could see him processing the sight in front of him, almost as if his brain couldn’t quite catch up with his eyes. His gaze lingered for a moment too long, and it was impossible not to notice the way his expression shifted slowly. His lips parted slightly, his breath catching as his eyes darted back up to yours, now a little more intense.

“Is that... lace?” he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper, like the question wasn’t one of curiosity, but more of surprise.

You could see his mind working, his thoughts clearly running wild as he took in the sight of you standing there. He swallowed hard, and for a moment, you both just stood there.

It wasn’t often that you saw Jay lose a bit of his usual composure, but now, his hands tightened around the laundry basket, his knuckles white as he tried to remain cool.

“You know,” he finally spoke again, his voice slightly more strained than before, “I was going to help with laundry, but I think I need a moment.” He was trying to regain some composure, but the way his eyes never left you made it clear that the sight of you had ignited something he couldn’t easily ignore.

Jay placed the laundry basket down slowly, the sound of it hitting the floor almost too loud in the silence that hung between you both. His eyes never left you, and his body seemed to move on its own, drawn to you like a magnet.

Without a word, his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer until his body was pressed against yours. The sudden closeness made your breath hitch, as his hands trailed around your waist, fingers grazing the fabric of the lace, the sensation sending a wave of warmth across your skin.

“God…” Jay groaned, the sound low and strained as his fingers gently ran along the edge of the lace, tracing the delicate pattern against your skin. His touch was tender and slow, as if he wanted to savor every second of feeling the lace beneath his fingertips.

You could see the struggle in his eyes, the way he fought to hold back, but there was no mistaking the desire that pulsed in him. “You’re killing me right now,” he murmured, his voice thick with longing. The words came out almost like a confession, so unfiltered, as if he couldn’t hide what he was feeling any longer. His breath was warm against your ear as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the side of your neck, the feeling sending a shiver down your spine.

His hands moved down, caressing the lace at your hips before pulling you even closer. The way his body responded to the touch, the way his groan escaped him, it all showed just how much he wanted you. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath.

Unable to resist, Jay leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was gentle at first, testing, exploring. But it didn’t stay gentle for long. The kiss deepened as he lost a bit of his composure, his hands gripping you more firmly, pulling you closer to him. The heat between you both surged, and you kissed him back just as eagerly, matching his intensity.

Jay guided you across the bedroom, your bodies moving together in sync. He broke the kiss for just a moment, his breath ragged as he led you toward the full-length mirror at the foot of the bed. As he spun you around, the sudden shift in perspective made your heart flutter. Now, you were facing the mirror, your reflection staring back at you, and Jay stood behind you, holding you close, his chest pressed against your back.

For a moment, you both just stood there, breathing in sync, before Jay’s lips found your shoulder, kissing it softly while his hands slid to your waist, holding you tight as he whispered sweet compliments in your ear. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his lips brushing your skin as he continued to kiss along your neck. “So incredible... everything about you…”

You tried to glance away from the mirror, feeling suddenly self-conscious, but Jay wasn’t having it. His fingers gently but firmly grabbed your jaw, guiding your face back so that your eyes met your reflection once more. You could feel the intensity of his gaze as he held you there, making you face yourself again.

“Look at yourself,” he whispered, “don’t look away.” His words were like a command that made it impossible to do anything but meet your own gaze. His hand remained firm on your jaw, gently guiding you while his other arm stayed wrapped around your waist, holding you securely against him. “You see what I see?” he muttered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his breath warm. “Do you see how beautiful you are?”

Your reflection stared back at you, and though you felt shy under his attention, there was something about the way he held you that made you feel secure. The way his hands moved—one tracing lazy, gentle patterns at your waist while the other stayed steady at your jaw—was grounding.

He dipped his head again, pressing his lips to your neck, just below your ear, lingering there as though savoring the moment. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, and his grip on you tightened slightly. “Every part of you,” he whispered, his voice filled with affection, “is perfect.”

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as you tried to process his words, his touch, and the way his gaze flicked up to meet yours in the mirror.

Jay’s breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling against your back as his lips trailed along your neck. The delicate lace seemed to have an almost visceral effect on him, his hands roaming your waist and hips. His fingers brushed against the lace, as if he couldn’t stop himself from feeling it again, marveling at the way it clung to your skin.

“This…” he murmured, his voice rough, nearly a growl, as his hand traced the hemline of the fabric. “You have no idea what this is doing to me.” He paused to take a deep, shuddering breath, his lips brushing against your ear. “You look so—God, I can’t even think straight.”

You couldn’t help but let a soft laugh escape you, the sound teasing in its lightness. “You really like lace that much?” you asked playfully, though you knew full well by the way he was reacting.

Jay groaned, his hand tightening slightly at your waist as he pressed a kiss to the curve of your shoulder. “Like is an understatement,” he said, his tone low and almost desperate. His lips hovered near your ear again, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with so much intensity that it made your heart skip a beat. “You have to wear more of it. All the time. For me.”

His bluntness made you smile, and you couldn’t resist teasing him further. “Oh? Are you saying I should go shopping for more lace?” you asked, turning your head slightly to glance at him, your tone light and filled with playful mischief.

Jay groaned again, his head dropping against your shoulder for a moment as if your teasing was physically affecting him. “Don’t play with me,” he muttered, his voice strained. “Do you want me to beg?” His voice was shaky now, his desperation seeping into every word. He pressed another kiss to your neck before continuing, his voice barely above a growl. “Because I will. I’ll beg if that’s what it takes. Just—please, wear more of this, want more of it.”

You couldn’t help the way your smile widened at his reaction, the teasing in your expression making his jaw tighten. “Jay,” you said, feigning an innocent tone, “you’re really going to beg for me to wear more lace?”

His breath hitched, and his hands moved to grip your hips more firmly. “Don’t tempt me,” he warned, though there was no real bite to his words. His forehead pressed against the back of your head for a moment before he groaned once more, almost as if he was fighting to keep control.

“I’ll do it,” he muttered, his voice low but filled with conviction. “If it means I get to see you like this every day, I’ll fill your closet with lace. Every color, every design—you’ll have so much, you’ll never wear anything else.”

You turned slightly, your smile softening as you reached up to touch his cheek, your fingers brushing against his skin. His eyes met yours in the mirror, filled with so much love that it almost overwhelmed you.

“I don’t think you’re ready for that much lace,” you said, but your tone was softer now, playful without being dismissive.

“Try me,” he challenged you, “I’ll prove it. I’ll make it happen. Just say the word.”

Jay would do anything to show you just how much he adored you, and if it meant filling your wardrobe with lace to see you smile—and to indulge his newfound obsession—he would gladly do it, no hesitation.

.....

And he did do it. After that day, it was as though a switch had flipped in Jay. He started bringing home lace in every imaginable color and design—soft pastels, bold blacks, rich jewel tones, delicate florals. Every type he could find was soon tucked away in your closet. It was thoughtful, sweet even, a little peek into how deeply he cared about you. But his reaction every time you wore it? That was something else entirely.

You weren’t used to seeing him like this, so utterly undone, so out of touch with his usual composed demeanor. But you couldn’t deny how much you loved it. You loved the way he folded for you, how a single glimpse of white lace beneath your clothes could derail him completely. Oh, you had him hooked. So much so that every time you wore it, his eyes would darken, his breaths would hitch, and whatever train of thought he had? Gone, like it had never existed.

Lace was his weakness, yes. But lace on you? He was gone—reduced to a pleading man, desperate for just one look, just one touch. And when you finally gave him permission, the transformation was instant. His hands would tremble slightly as they reached for you, his lips brushing reverently over the fabric like it was sacred.

“One more taste,” he’d whisper, his voice rough with need, “and I swear I’ll lose control.”

But the truth? He’d already lost control. The moment his fingers skimmed the lace against your skin, he was a goner. You saw it in the way he looked at you, like nothing else in the world mattered but you in that moment. His touches grew hungrier, his kisses turned sloppy and uncoordinated. And the marks? Oh, you had plenty. They were proof of just how completely he surrendered himself to you, his passion for you spilling over in ways he could hardly contain. Jay never held back when it came to you, and the lace only seemed to amplify that desire.

It wasn’t just about how beautiful you looked in it, though that played a part. No, it was the way you made it look—how effortlessly you wore it, how it became a part of your natural allure. He was mesmerized by you, completely at your mercy, and he didn’t care one bit.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he’d groan, his voice shaky as he traced the edges of the fabric with his fingertips. And maybe you didn’t. Maybe you didn’t realize just how thoroughly you owned him. But every time he dropped to his knees for you, every time he lost himself completely in the feel of you, the sight of you, the essence of you—you were reminded of just how deep his devotion ran.

Jay was yours in every way, and he wasn’t ashamed to show it. Especially when you wore lace.

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

Perm taglist: @ilyunjina @nshmrarki @laylasbunbunny

@wensurr @immelissaaa @simj4k3 @vegahrid @03sunoos

@hollxe1 @moonpri @cherriesfine @badtzsan @anushkaaaiaiiaiaia

@heeseungbabydoll @wondash @renjiishot @demigodmahash

@strawberrieswithchocolateo3o @honeybunnee @jjongstar111

@enhaprettystars @zorange13 @jiminie-08 @chocowonnie

@enhamonsterghoul @mrsjjongstby @bussolares @kiripimaspillow

@sumsumtingz @norucking @tunafishyfishylike @txnwvc

@jakeluvrrs @firstclassjaylee @xnatqq @arclviie @aussie-boys-wife

@vvenusoncasual @bamguetismee

[loucifersbitch]

"Uh, hey, hey-hey, Tommy."

"Can we talk?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah. C-Come on in."

"Wow. Maybe I'm working at the wrong station."

"Can I get you something? I still owe you a beer, right?"

"No, I'm good. I won't stay long. I just wanted to clear the air, and I didn't want to do it over the phone or in a text or something."

"Clear the air about what?"

"Obviously, I've been the cause of some bad blood between you and Eddie, and I just want you to know that was never my intention."

"There's no bad blood."

"Evan."

"Really. No bad blood. Just…bad behavior. And-and it's all on my part. You guys didn't do anything wrong. You and Eddie as buddies makes perfect sense."

"Yeah, we do. And you know he can have more than one friend, right?"

"Uh, yes, I-I do know that."

"I mean, it's not like I could ever replace you. Christopher would absolutely have something to say about that. That kid cannot shut up about you."

"Really?"

"Really."

"I-I guess Eddie is, uh, pretty pissed, huh?"

"No, he's not. In fact, he feels bad. We both do. Nobody meant to exclude you, Evan. Eddie and I hanging out, it wasn't about you."

"That's usually my problem. Uh, I can get pretty jealous."

"Yeah, you're not the only one. I was super jealous."

"You? Over what?"

"All of you. The 118. How it's become like a family over there. I mean, how you all were willing to put everything on the line for one another. I wanted to be a part of that."

"Hey, you-you were. A-and you did. Y-you even made fake mouth static at the fire chief."

"I'm renowned for my fake mouth static."

"It was not great."

"Come on. Hey."

"It was not convincing, but you did it anyway. Y-y-you threw in with us, no hesitation, and I thought, 'Wow. That guy is cool. I like that guy.' I mean, that's why I called and asked for the tour. You know, it wasn't about me maybe leaving the 118, Tommy. I… I just, I wanted to get to know you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And then you left with Eddie, which, listen, you don't have to tell me how great Eddie is. You know, I've known that since the first day I worked with him. Of course you want to hang out with Eddie. Plus, well, I-I don't know Muay Thai."

"I could teach you."

"Okay. I-Is that gonna be right after our flying lessons?"

"Probably not on the same day."

"Good. 'Cause trying to get your attention has been kind of exhausting."

"My attention?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Uh…I mean, I…I did maim my best friend. My sister says there are, uh, better ways to get someone's atten…"

"Like that?"

"Yeah, that works."

"So that was okay?"

"It was better than fake mouth static."

"I got a shift."

"Okay."

"Yeah, crosstown traffic, and I came in a car this time. So what are you doing Saturday?"

"Uh, S-Saturday?"

"You still owe me that beer. You free?"

"Yes. I-I…I am free."

"Great. So let's say I come by around, I don't know, 8:00?"

"Yeah, 8:00 is great."

"Great. See you Saturday."

"Saturday."

"And, for God's sake, please call Eddie. Now would be a good time. He's on pain pills."

[radioiaci]

Each rumble of laughter given against his back was certainly not helping him not focus on it. Vox's laughter was always a balm to him, no matter how ridiculous and abrasive. He found himself, in lieu of his better judgement, lamenting that he could not be made to laugh much more easily without having to be under the influence to do it.

And he almost missed the other's choice of truth as a result, having to bring himself back around to the present moment as though arms settled back around him.

He had a choice here. He had questions - ones that he knew were only for the sake of his own ego. And knowing full well that if he did not get the answer he wanted, it would bruise it just as readily. Vox had not been entirely incorrect that Alastor was feeling... sentimental (the preferred word over sappy). And perhaps it stemmed from his insecurity regarding everything else surrounding why they had come here to begin with.

He did not speak right away, his eyes sliding shut to appreciate the hold he was in, one of his hands coming up to gently trace the pads of his fingers over one of Vox's hands. They lacked claws, but that did not matter to him in the moment.

In fact-

His own hand closed over Vox's, wrapping fingers gently around the other's as he brought it up to his mouth to press just the smallest of kisses to it, leaving it there as he pondered with a small hum.

"Tell me something you have always wanted to do or... see. That you've never had a chance to." He spoke softly against the other's skin, not wanting to relinquish his hold on that hand.

It was a better question than what he'd nearly asked. Do you think of me when we are apart?

He did not want to hear a no. Or to see Vox take a drink instead. And so he spared himself of that eventuality.

Another burst of laughter escaped the previous tv head. Just a short ha— before he was leaning his forehead back against Alastor’s back.

“Mmm no.” He said after Alastor’s explanation. Denying it outright and gave under smaller chuckle under his breath. Rubbing his forehead against the fabric of the other man’s shirt. Just in little movements. It was so interesting to revel in the feeling of having skin again. Specifically on his face. He didn’t know if he really missed it… but he certainly was intrigued by the ability to compare the two sensations. Especially while intoxicated.

Vox gave a spontaneous full body shiver, just a mild one.

“..mmmthen do it.” He teased under his breath, nearly interrupting the other. Then lifted his head just enough to take another drag of his cigarette, and rested his forehead back down.

When the other was most of the way through Vox gave another light hearted giggle.

“Jesus.. feeling sappy tonight~ It was alright~” he teased back.

“Alrightalright.. truth. I’ll do a truth one.. and not because of fairness. That shit doesn’t exist.” He smirked into the other’s back. Taking the smoke butt out of his mouth and put it out- on the plastic bag. Which definitely was a fire hazard- but it didn’t cause one this time.

“I just want to give you a chance is all~”

Vox snuck his arms back around Alastor again now as his cigarette waned. Just holding him lightly.

[powdcr]

it's you, toots

୨୧ jinx x gn!reader

୨୧ summary: jinx confesses her feelings for you; you're seeing someone

୨୧ word count: 1.1k

୨୧ tw: mentions of blood

୭ ୨♡୧ ৎ

“Do you really think that this is easy for me?”

A sentence that you never thought you’d hear in this context, especially from your close friend that stood before you: Jinx. You had been seeing someone recently. It was someone that you had met at The Last Drop. While you were waiting for Jinx to come back from her meeting with Silco, someone had approached you at the bar. They weren’t exactly what you were looking for, but they were someone to fill the void. They satisfied your urges, gave you attention, and had a pretty face. They weren’t what you really, truly wanted though—a fact that struck you straight to the bone.

“What are you talking about?” You replied, your voice wavering like the whine of a lost puppy.

You two were standing face-to-face in a back alleyway of Zaun. The distant sounds of people bustling by were easy for you to tune out. It was like going to sleep with the fan on, you didn’t pick up on its commotion. In fact, it felt quiet—pin-drop silent. Words unspoken and misconstrued filled the silence, and instead, made your head feel noisier than your surroundings.

“You know what I’m talking about.”

You swallowed hard, looking away and then back to the blue-haired girl. “Is this about-”

“The fresh meat you dragged home from the bar, toots.”

“Why do you care about who I bring home?” You spat back at her, crossing your arms.

Jinx’s mouth, held open ready to spit back venom, was now closed. She bit her lip, some of her emotions seeping out against her own wishes. She kicked a rock before throwing herself down on a crate that was leaned up against one of Zaun's many buildings. “You don’t know the kinda effect you have on people, do ya?”

Your eyes softened at her question. Taking a few steps closer to her, you dropped your arms back down to your sides. “Effect?”

Jinx looked up at you, her eyes were longing something—something that she wanted dearly. “Yeah, you’re perfect. You make people stop in their tracks when you walk by, you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, and hell, you have twice the heart that I’ve ever had. I think that’s also your weakness though, buttercup.”

Your eyebrows were furrowed. This was a lot to hear all at once. Jinx was one to flirt with you constantly, but it was so constant that you didn’t think it had any depth to it. It was one of those things that just lost its meaning after a while. However, this wasn’t how she would normally speak to you. Her expression now shown of defeat, vulnerability. Her expected manic energy was replaced with one of… innocence?

“What are you trying to say, Jinx?” You asked.

“I’m trying to say…” she sighed once more, standing up from the crate and moseying over to you. “It’s you, toots, it’s always been you. I can’t stand to see you wasting your time with some bupkis from down the block when I’m right here.”

The last words that fell off of her lips were said the most slowly and held the most power. Your heart broke at her confession. The pain that shown through her pink eyes erupted a nauseous feeling within your gut. Jinx’s eyes began to tear up as she harshly rubbed them, praying they’d stop.

“Jinx…” You murmured, “I-”

“You don’t gotta say anything, sweets. In fact, it’d be better for both of us if ya didn’t.”

Just as she finished her sentence, you closed the gap between the two of you. Tender, soft lips clashed against one another. She was sweet, full of flavor, just enough to keep you wanting more. You could feel her mania start up as she slid her tongue into your mouth hungrily. Her hands cupped your face gently in contrast to her rough kiss. Her nails trailed down your cheeks and to your neck.

“Jinx,” you said, voice breathy as you broke the kiss.

Jinx looked into your eyes. She felt as though she had did something wrong, like maybe the next words that would fall off your tongue would be something like, “I knew kissing you would be a mistake.” Blood drew as she bit down on her lip hard this time.

You kissed the blood that pooled on her bottom lip, wiping the excess away with your thumb. “I was only seeing that ‘bupkis’ because I could pretend that it was you. I’ve always wanted you. You’re all I ever think about. Don’t you know that?”

Her eyes were wide and doe-like, not a descriptor that she had received often. “Really? So… you’re not gonna leave me?”

You dropped your shoulders, releasing the tension you hadn’t realized was building. “Of course, I’m not gonna leave. I know people have left you in your life. I know that, but I’m not gonna be one of them. You’re my ride or die. I’m never gonna leave you.”

The hunger within the two of you subsided as a more sensual, emotional atmosphere set in. Jinx wrapped her arms around you. She held you tight, afraid that if she let go you’d slip away from her. You were hers. You were only hers. Subconsciously, she dug her nails into your back to keep you from prying away, even if she knew you weren’t going to go anywhere.

“I love you, Jinx.”

“I love you too,” she replied after some hesitation, nervous to admit her true feelings out loud. This time it was her to close the gap between you. Jinx kissed you with delicacy, choosing instead to be careful with you. She placed her hands flat on your chest so that she could feel your heartbeat through your shirt. It was racing—a fact that soothed her, for hers was racing equally as fast. Your hearts beat together as one, strong as a jackhammer.

Your relationship was about to change, blossom into something new and passionate. It was something that you had dreamed of for years—holding her in your arms just as you had her now. Ever since the day you met her, you knew that she was the one. She had proven to be loyal: following you everywhere, blowing people up that dared to even look at you the wrong way, comforting you on your bad days, but now you were able to prove your own loyalty to her in a different way. You would make sure that she knew that she was yours and vice versa. She was your girl, always had been after all.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 9

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, reference to suicide and Lloyd being offensive, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: Thanks for all your patience.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Migraines always leave you a bit foggy. Like a hangover, or even a concussion. You power through the airport, waiting in line with your mustachioed curse. Lloyd taps his toe incessantly, adding to the plethora of overstimulation all around you. This isn’t how you envisioned your holidays.  

It’s the 26th and you’re supposed to be on your way home, not catching the flight you booked for two days before. And alone. You’re supposed to be alone. 

You take your boarding pass and leave Lloyd’s for him to grab himself. He huffs and follows after you. He’s like a big dumb dog sometimes. It’s amazing that the realization only comes over you then. It’s pretty obvious when he’s not behind a desk growling like some mafioso. He’s no kingpin, he’s a clown. 

You drop into a seat, your carry-on beside you, and he claims the seat to your left. He’s on the edge, jiggling his leg. You could thank him for upgrading you both to first class but he’s the reason you’re even there. It’s the least he could do. 

You cross your arms and stare through the haze. The first-class lounge is quiet and softly lit. Isolated but for the pest next to you. He continues to fidget. Is he nervous? You didn’t think that was possible since he seems to lack any degree of self-awareness. 

“So, gimme the down low. You got a mom? Girl like you screams daddy issues. Is he still around?” 

You sigh. “Sure is.” 

“Wow, okay. Good guy? Strict? Shit, knowing you, he must be a hard ass,” he scoffs. “Should I put on my best behaviour? Should I have worn a tie, Pixie pie?” He tugs at the collar of his turtleneck. 

“What you can do is hush,” you retort. “Jesus, I’m tryna get my head together.” 

“Last night was wild,” he agrees, though it’s not the point you were making, nor a statement of fact. “We were so close, Pix. You shoulda just laid back and let the magic hands do their tricks. Promise,” he smooths his mustache, “this isn’t just for show. I’ve been told it adds a lot of sensation--” 

“Ew. Would you—if you even say any of that in front of my family--” 

“You gonna spank me?” He asks brightly and sits back, slinging an arm over the back of your chair. 

“Please. I have to at least make this believable and you’re not making it any easier,” you snarl. 

“Are you serious? Our chemistry is like if Einstein banged a beaker--” 

“Einstein was a physicist--” 

“Science is science, baby. All I know is there’s something here and the sooner you accept it, the harder I’ll-- I mean the easier this will be.” 

You look at him dully. All those years you spent bending over backward for him. Behind the mask, he’s a cretin. You always had a suspicion but he was never your creep to deal with. 

“How do you do that?” He asks. 

You grumble and shake your head, turning your glare to the flat screen across from you. 

“How the hell do you skin a man with your eyes? It’s bone tingling and boner-inducing, but damn, it’s something else,” he shifts in his chair noticeably, “you’re gonna make me fly all the way to Canada at half-mast?” 

“You can book a seat across the plane from me if you’re going to keep on,” you warn him. “I’m really not in the mood. We have a deal. I’ll do my part. Pretend, nothing more, and you’ll keep your hands to yourself and give me my money.” 

“I got it, baby. I’m a businessman,” he turns straight and plants his feet wide. “I make deals every day. You’ll get yours.” 

“I want an advance--” 

“An advance? What the hell do you mean? I paid for first-class. Elite,” he punctuates with his finger. “Advance, my juicy ass.” 

“Ten. In my account. Before take-off.” 

“Pfft, you don’t trust me?” 

“No, I don’t,” you affirm. “More so, you owe me. I defaulted on the refund on the flight you made me miss. Oh, and I didn’t get to see my family. On Christmas.” 

“Jeez, well you don’t seem that happy to,” he accuses. 

“Money, now.” 

“Fine, but I get one titty grab--” 

“You get nothing. Mon-ey.” You rub your fingers together. 

He huffs and leans forward as he takes his phone out. He rolls his eyes and taps around on the screen. He takes a deep breath then pushes down. He shows you the screen. “Go ahead and check. You got your blood money.” 

“This is your idea,” you retort. 

“It is my idea but you’re rejecting all my other ones. Like, you know, a sexy massage with a happy ending...” 

“You’re going to give me another headache.” 

“I’ll take it. At least I make you feel something.” He shrugs. 

You shake your head at nothing and check your phone. You can never be too careful with him. Sharing a room has more than proven that. 

🎁

You put the in-flight earbuds in and resign yourself to the hours ahead of you, trapped in a flying canister, next to this incessant man-child. He really brings out the bitch in you. That irritates you even more. You could do anything before without much thought at all; you just got through but Lloyd makes everything a task. 

You close your eyes as the video babbles on. It’s a new release, but those are all remakes and sequels without any real interest. The altitude does little for the shadow of achiness that lingers in the base of your skull. One wrong move and you’ll reawaken your migraine. 

The steady thrum of air around the plane lulls you in a stupor. Just enough for you to stop caring but not deep enough for sleep. You let your head fall toward the window and sink into the numb daze. 

A small tickle makes you shift. You think nothing of it. It’s so small, it could be nothing. Then the sensation travels down to your knee and back up your thigh. You smack Lloyd’s hand before he can repeat the action. 

“Quit,” you hiss. 

He spreads his hand and curls his fingers into your tender flesh. You squeak and open your eyes, clasping onto his wrist as he needs. It’s as if he pinching your nerves. 

“Ow, oh, stop--” you protest. 

“Come on, baby,” he leans over and winks. “Just let me pet the kitty. It’ll help you relax.” 

“How many times can I tell you the same thing--” 

“Just like a dog, you need to be repetitive. Conditioning or whatever,” he purrs. 

You glance past him at the low wall blocking out your seats from the sight of the other pods in first class. You clutch his two middle fingers and squeeze. You bend them back until he grunts and recoils. 

“You touching me isn’t going to make me relax--” 

“Never know if you don’t try,” he wiggles his brows. 

“Trust me, I know.” 

“I’m sure your family don’t need you in a pissy mood. I’m doing it for them, Pixie.” 

“Can I ask you something?” You narrow your eyes, “does the begging usually work?” 

He snorts. He shakes his head and sits back, raising his palms, “you will be flattered to know I don’t usually beg.” He leans against the seat and rests his head on the cushion. “When I tell a girl to hike her skirt up, she just does it. All of them but you.” He clucks and rolls his eyes. “You know that pretty blond from Pristine? Yeah, whenever she comes around, I got her bent over the desk. Thought you’d catch on, she’s not very quiet.” 

You won’t grace him with an excuse. You don’t need one. You’re usually busy, minding your own business, running his errands. You never cared about his office flings. 

“Maybe you should’ve asked her to meet your family,” you suggest. 

“Kidding me? She never shuts up. I gotta stuff my tie in her mouth. Usually why I turn her around--” 

“Lloyd,” you snap. 

“Jealous?” He smirks and you stare back blankly. “You know what? Gotta admit, you surprised me, Pixie Pie. Always quiet in the office, scurrying around like a little mouse. I figured you’d be good because you’d keep the yapper shut. Turns out, you know how to cut deep.” He pushes his shoulders wide and settles. “Never saw mom like that. Or Lillian. Yeah, that was good. You really got her.” 

He snickers and flutters his fingers menacingly. You yawn and look at the small screen. You don’t know what’s going on in the movie. What you do know is that Lloyd Hansen has more issues than one person can solve and you’re not there for anything but business. This is work. You’re getting your money and you’re moving on. 

🎁

Landing is usually a relief. You’re always happy to be on solid ground but it feels shaky as you walk off with your travel companion. The bounce in Lloyd’s step concerns you. He’s much too eager for this. 

He grabs his bags from the carousel, yours too before you can even approach. He loads them all onto a car and steers it around the airport. He’s whistling as you get through the terminal and head for the front doors. As you step outside, he chatters and stops short. 

“Holy grizzly dick, it’s freezing here,” he puffs a cloud of steam as his nose tints pink. 

“There’s not much more snow here than back in the States.” 

“Nah, it’s fucking frigid. Should’ve known,” he shivers and tucks his chin down. You make note of his snipe but don’t acknowledge it. “You maple drinkers drive on the same side of the road?” You glare at him and he winces as he meets your eyes. You’ve booked him trips to Vancouver several times. “Kidding. Obviously. That whole polite stereotype is bullshit, huh, Pix.” 

You ignore him and hail a cab. You just want to be still. The last few days, you’ve been upended. The long drive, his family, the hotel, then a plane ride on top of it all. You’re ready to just stop. 

He wheels the cart around to the trunk and leaves it to the driver to load. You want to admonish him but you’re over the argument. You know you’re going to need your energy. You get in and he climbs in with you.  

He blows into his hands then rubs his cheek. “Santa dropped a load on this place, huh?” He unzips his coat and reaches under it. He fishes around the inside pocket and slips out a pair of glasses. You furrow your nose. You’ve never seen him wear glasses. 

“Where did you get those?” 

“Hipster boy in coach. Snagged them when I hit the restroom,” he explains and pops them on, leaning against you as he cranes to see his reflection in the rear-view mirror. 

“You stole glasses?” 

“Borrowed,” he insists then turns to you. “What’d ya think? Am I the perfect good boy for mom and pop?” 

“You think glasses are gonna do something?” 

“We talked about this, we gotta be convincing, sweetheart. I gotta be a man that sweet lil Pixie would go for.” He adjusts the glasses. “I read Hemingway and have a degree in Social Justice.” 

“Shut--” you catch yourself and sniff. “I don’t even like Hemingway.” 

“Jane Austen? Really? A romantic?” 

“Does it matter?” 

“I’d say. We have to at least pretend we can stand each other. Not just...” he looks down at his lap, “stand for each other.” 

“Ugh, well, start with cutting out those nasty remarks. Second, try, uh, taking care of...” you gesture over your lip, “this.” 

He blinks and his brows draw together. He touches his upper lip, “my mustache?” His eyes widen behind the lenses. “Um, this is style, honey.” 

You scrunch your lips as you try not to laugh. He really believes that. You shrug as the driver gets in. He crosses his arms. 

“Whatever. Judge me but don’t just the stache,” he snips. “So, you gotta tell me. Favourite book.” 

“Do I?” 

“Well, we’re ‘engaged’ so I think I should know,” he argues. 

You watch through the windshield as the taxi follows the airport traffic to the street, “The Bell Jar. If I have to choose one.” 

“Oooh, Plath. How... depressing. But I knew it, you’re a reader, Pixie. Bet you like to sink into a hot tub and get cozy with a good novel. You get the kinky one, let the hand wander below the surface--” 

You elbow him and he cackles. “Alright, sorry. I just—a man’s used to eating daily.” 

“Maybe a diet will do you well,” you retort. 

“Cheat day will come soon enough,” he says. “I’ll do my best to keep my pants on, just don’t go putting your head in any ovens.” 

“You’re awful,” you exclaim. “That’s awful.” 

“Alright,” he combs his hair back, “gonna be a good boy. Promise.” 

“You can take the glasses off.” 

“I kinda like ‘em,” he grins and pinches the arms. 

You make a face but say nothing. The city passes by and your eyes gloss over the familiar sights. The taxi drops you at the rental place and you pull up the booking. There’s at least an hour before you get outside Toronto, then another to your mom’s place. You take the keys and jingle them at Lloyd. 

“Wanna drive?” You ask. 

“I don’t really know where I’m going,” he says. 

“Right.” 

“Besides, Pixie, you got control issues.” 

“Me?” You scoff. “Sure.” 

“Oh, you do,” he assures you as you cross the lot to the rental. “Once you give in to them, you’ll be a lot happier and I'll be your perfect sub.” 

You pop the trunk and tut as you approach the driver’s side, “get the bags in the car, would ya?” 

[lexieloo28]

HAPPY S1 FINALE EVERYONE!!

OK CINDERELLA BOY NATION SOOOOOO

NOW THAT I CAN FINALLY POST THIS MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAH I HAVE SOME THEORIES/ COMMENTS ON STUFF AFTER EP. 61

SPOILERS AHEAD IF U HAVENT READ IT!

SERIOUSLY YOU'RE NOT GOING TO WANT TO GET SPOILED FROM ME. PLS GO READ PUNKOS AMAZING FINALE FIRST!

Ok so throw back to Ep. 56

When bronze entered the book and only encountered that rustling. He himself states that either Buddy/Nox wasn’t there, or left the book.

The rustling in the bushes could have just been ambience ORRRR Buddy/Nox could have spotted him and left quickly! Bronze would recognize him right away, so it TOTALLY makes sense that he would leave. However, he didn’t show up at all when Deacon was Ridin’ Solo. So he probably either has a direct link to Silver, or Chase himself. If Violet is linked with Silver, Buddy/Nox prob skedaddled the moment he saw our peanut butter boy.

The book shown in EP. 61 shows a bunch of lines and junk (including Buddy/Nox's moon) with Violet's key presumably in her spot? Which could connect her to Silver? Idk

Another thing, I’ve been thinking about :

What role exactly Buddy/Nox has... When Chase first wakes Silver in Ep. 9

We can see here that Chase says purple key and villainess and Silver confirms. I saw someone in the comments mention that he has the moon on his back to mirror Goldie, so maybe he is the villain key? Like, for masculine roles while Violet is for feminine roles. He does mention that he’s never been the hero…

Some more food for thought,

Look at how sad he is here in Ep. 13 :( Chase has no idea that he’s saying that to a fellow key who probably knows Silver better than Chase does.

A few panels earlier Buddy/Nox calls her an “it” so I wonder if he was somehow turned into a key after they were separated, and never met her? Or he could just be throwing Chase off. He seems genuinely surprised when Chase tells him off.

And Next,

This episode had me thinking of Buddy/Nox bashfully asking Violet to make him outfits for each story LOL. I love when we get peaks into his shy personality. He has a snooty persona he keeps putting up, and I hope in season two we get to see him show more genuine pieces of himself :’)

(Ep. 40)

Now, discussing some moments from the actual episode 61 (and ofc I freaked out for a Hot Minute after The Reveal) I wanted to share a bit of a “haha” moment where this image

Did not in fact make me freak out. For the right reasons. I went “WOAH VIOLET IS SO BIG”

…

I was so shell shocked from the kiss that I didn’t even CONSIDER that Buddy/Nox is TINY 😭

And then we get to see more of his facade crack as he sadly reminisces after the kiss. Not a cute moment like Chase, but a realization that he’s fallen deeper than he should have. And it’s getting in the way of his goals. Their goals.

And finally,

Looking back at some of the other episodes, Buddy/Nox lets himself indulge in Chase sometimes. When he calls him a little idiot, strokes his hair, tries (badly) to idk seduce? him. Its making my mind RACE! Was he aware of his feelings? Did he look forward to seeing Chase in the books? Did it give him a sense of normalcy and make him feel human again? Did he feel a sense of dread when he realized that he likes Chase, or chose to ignore the reasons he shouldn’t and let himself indulge? Or push his feelings deep down and not once mention it to Violet?

Punko, you are a LEGEND I cherish this webtoon SO MUCH.

SO GLAD I CAN FINALLY POST THIS IVE BEEN FROTHING AT THE MOUTH RGRGAGGR

[maidragoste]

The Day After

Aegon II Targaryen x Reader

Yesterday I felt more confident posting this (maybe because I finished writing it having a fever lol) but I want to share it anyway because I miss posting

Please feel free to like, leave a comment or reblog. These things motivate me to keep writing

And if you have any ideas, any headcanons or just want to talk about something my inbox is always open

Now I wish you all a good read <3

Aegon looks so calm and you don't know how to feel about that. You think he should be nervous, panicking, or even uncomfortable but he's happy eating the breakfast that the two of you ordered from room service at the hotel, as if today was a normal day, as if it wasn't crazy that you woke up next to him with a ring on your ring finger.

But you don't feel nervous, scared, or uncomfortable about this situation either.

When you were invited to Martyn's bachelor party in Las Vegas you never imagined that you would end up married to your best friend but you're not upset.

Of course, you were both drunk, you were left alone in the bar while everyone else went to the slots, and you ended up confessing that you were bummed that you weren’t married yet and that you were afraid of ending up alone. So Aegon told you to marry him and you laughed, you told him that he didn’t need to go to that extreme to make you feel better but he insisted, he told you that if he won the roulette then you two should get married. Of course, he won by choosing your birthday as his number. And that’s how you two ended up getting married.

You weren't nervous when you signed the papers or when you kissed. You thought it would be weird to kiss him but it felt good. You liked the softness of his lips and how he held your face like you were something precious. Aegon also had to enjoy kissing you because he couldn't seem to separate his lips from yours as they walked back to his room making you feel like a lovestruck schoolgirl again. You were happy and delighted. Your teenage self didn't think you would ever dare to be with Aegon without being afraid of ruining your friendship.

Last night Aegon made you feel loved and wanted. He kissed and worshipped your body like you were a deity.

“What are you thinking about?” your husband asked, drawing your attention.

“Nothing,” you said, and hurried to take a sip of your coffee to have an excuse not to talk.

Aegon raised an eyebrow at you, “Liar, you’re wrinkling your brow.”

Of course, he knew the expression you made when you tried to lie. You didn’t mind that detail, it was more like he was giving you another confirmation of why he was the man for you.

“I was thinking about us,” you finally admitted.

“It hasn’t even been a day and you’re already regretting marrying me?” You could see that he tried to say it as a joke but you could feel that he genuinely cared, noticing that his eyes seemed to have suddenly lost their sparkle and his body wasn’t as relaxed as before.

“I don’t regret marrying you” you declared without hesitation and you saw how the tension disappeared from his body. “And you?” you asked although you were already sure you knew the answer.

“Of course not” he answered instantly, almost seeming offended by your question.

You smiled feeling your heart warming up. “Good”

“Good,” he repeated, mirroring your smile. “I love you,” he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

It wasn't the first time he told you he loved you but this time it was different. He didn't say it as your best friend, nor did he say it when he was drunk or in the heat of the moment. You had no doubt about his feelings for you.

You leaned over the table to kiss him. "I love you too," you said on his lips.

The truth is that neither of you was afraid of the future; in fact, you couldn't wait to see what was coming. You two would probably have to tolerate criticism from your families for having done things in the wrong order and for having dared to take such a step, but that didn't worry either of you now that you were together.

Taglist: @chaotic-fangirl-blog @venus-flytrap3 @ajordan2020 @iloveallmyboys @sweethoneyblossom1 @fudge13 @crystal-faith @tita004 @ichanelvxgue @snowprincesa1 @joyouart @rosey1981 @alastorhazbin @papichulo120627 @apollonshootafar @jasminecosmic99 @partypoison00 @labellapeaky @rebelliuna @bxdbxtxh15 @impartinghades @thegirlnextdoorssister @angeliod @snh96 @aleemendoza2425-blog @natashaobo @watercolorskyy @nyenye @savagemickey03 @kishie8 @ewwwitsel @arabis-world @missusnora @nzygftoji @alisoncdariel @cookielovesbook-akie @partnerincrime0 @klara-lily @427120lxld @justhereiguess2 @buckylahey @wa801 @artistadistrada2002 @thelastemzy @justanotherkpopstanlol @jacesvelaryons @aemondwhoresworld @cassiopeiablogg-blog @multiversemayhemme @dixie_elocin

hotd masterlist

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° mind on the road, your dilated eyes

( rin itoshi x fem! reader )

♡ a/n — i decided i didn't have enough series running and knew i needed to write an F1 AU :)

♡ word count — 1k

♡ content — rin itoshi x fem! reader, fem! reader, Formula 1 racing mentioned, F1 AU, F1 racer! rin, F1 engineer! reader, unrequited love, rin is still chasing after sae in this, mentions of a car crash, my very few years of watching F1 gave me a few ideas on the vocab to use, not proofread :)

♡ synopsis — A life where Rin Itoshi wasn’t consumed by rivalry, where you weren’t just his race engineer. But this life wasn’t that. And you knew, deep down, it never would be.

The roar of engines filled the air, bouncing off the grandstands of the Monaco circuit. The harbor shimmered under the Mediterranean sun, luxury yachts bobbing lazily in the distance. The race-day chaos was a familiar buzz, but it did nothing to calm Rin Itoshi’s restlessness.

He sat in his driver’s room, dressed in his fireproofs, staring blankly at his helmet on the table in front of him. For years, this time—these last few minutes before the grid—had been sacred to him. No one was allowed to interrupt. Not his PR team, not the pit crew. It was a rule everyone on the team knew better than to break.

Until you showed up.

You knocked lightly on the door and stepped inside without waiting for a response. “You ready, Itoshi?”

He looked up, his sharp green eyes narrowing slightly. “I was, until you came in.”

You smirked, unbothered. “We both know that’s not true. You’d already overthought everything twice by now.”

Rin didn’t respond, but the faintest twitch of his lips gave him away. This strange routine had become a tradition over the past season. Somehow, you were the only person who could step into his space without ruining his rhythm. In fact, since you’d joined the team, he’d gone out of his way to see you before every race.

At first, you thought it was a coincidence—a simple matter of logistics or convenience. But as time went on, you started to realize it wasn’t. Rin sought you out, even if he’d never admit it.

You adjusted the fit of his earpiece and handed him his gloves, your fingers brushing his as you did. “You’ve got this, Rin. Don’t let Sae get in your head today.”

The mention of his brother made his jaw tighten, his eyes flashing with something darker. “Easier said than done,” he muttered, pulling his gloves on.

You sighed. It was always like this. No matter how much effort you put into preparing him for the race, Sae was always there—a ghost Rin couldn’t outrun. It didn’t matter that you were the one who reminded him to drink water, who stayed up late analyzing telemetry, who knew how he liked his corner entries fine-tuned to the millimeter. You’d never be first in his eyes.

That spot belonged to Sae, and Sae alone.

The grid was chaos. Journalists swarmed the drivers as they took their places, cameras flashing and microphones thrust forward in search of soundbites. Rin ignored them all, climbing into his car with mechanical precision.

“Comms check,” you said over the radio as he settled into his seat.

“Loud and clear.”

“Good. Remember, you’re starting third. Don’t push too early—this is Monaco, not a track you can afford to gamble on.”

“I know.” His tone was clipped, but you could hear the undercurrent of tension.

You bit your lip, resisting the urge to say more. He was already on edge, his focus narrowing to a dangerous point. Sae sat on pole position, cool and untouchable as always. And Rin... Rin was chasing him, as he always had.

The lights went out, and the race began.

For the first 40 laps, Rin held steady. He kept a calculated distance from Karasu Tabito in second place, biding his time. You fed him updates through the radio, your voice calm and measured despite the growing knot in your stomach.

“You’re doing good, Rin. Karasu’s tires are degrading. Wait for your window.”

But you could feel his frustration building. Sae was still in the lead, his car slicing through the track of Monaco like it was made for him. Rin didn’t care about second place or podiums. He cared about beating Sae.

By Lap 60, the pressure cracked.

“Karasu’s slowing,” you warned as Rin closed the gap. “Wait until the straight to overtake—”

“I’m not waiting,” Rin snapped.

“Rin—”

He went for it.

In the tightest corner on the circuit, Rin dove to the inside line, attempting an impossible overtake. You watched, helpless, as his front wing clipped Karasu’s rear tire. The collision sent his car spinning out, slamming into the barriers with a sickening crunch.

Your breath caught in your throat. “Rin, respond! Are you okay?”

A pause, then static. Finally, his voice, low and rough: “I’m fine.”

But he wasn’t.

The garage was quiet after the race, the energy sucked out of the room. The rest of the team gave Rin a wide berth as he sat on a crate in the corner, staring at the floor. His helmet sat discarded at his feet, his fireproofs smeared with dirt and grease.

You approached cautiously, knowing he wouldn’t appreciate the intrusion. “Rin,” you said softly.

“What do you want?”

“I wanted to check on you.”

He looked up, his eyes dark and tired. “I don’t need you to baby me.”

“I’m not trying to baby you. I just... I care, okay?”

He snorted, the sound bitter. “Care about what? The points we lost? The standings?”

“No,” you said, your voice steady. “I care about you, Rin. But you’re too busy chasing Sae to see that.”

His expression hardened. “Don’t talk like you know me.”

“I do know you,” you shot back. “I know you’re your own worst enemy. I know you’d rather destroy yourself trying to beat Sae than accept that you’re enough as you are.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and unforgiving. For a moment, you thought he might argue, but he didn’t. He just looked at you, his expression unreadable.

“Maybe,” he said finally, his voice quiet. “But it doesn’t matter.”

“What do you mean?”

“In another life, maybe.” His gaze softened, and for a fleeting second, he wasn’t Rin Itoshi, the prodigy, the rival, the shadow.

He was just Rin.

But the moment passed, and he stood, walking away without another word.

That night, as the paddock emptied and the last of the team packed up, you sat alone in the garage, staring at the remnants of his car. The metallic hum of the lights above was the only sound, a harsh reminder of the silence he’d left behind.

You thought about his words—about another life. A life where he wasn’t consumed by rivalry, where you weren’t just his race engineer, where the lines between you weren’t drawn so starkly.

But this life wasn’t that. And you knew, deep down, it never would be.

You'd do anything for Rin, in another life.

But this one isn’t yours to share.

And you had to learn how to live with that.

when the brain worms get me, i must do what they want :)

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[thezombieprostitute]

Hii! 🥰 If it’s okay, can I please request a Ransom x shy!fem!reader where she’s his gf and he loves making her all flustered and shy? Like he spoils her with SO MUCH love, affection, flirting, and gifts and he absolutely LOVES her reactions (she’d definitely hide her head in his chest)

If there's one thing we all know about Ransom it's that he loves getting reactions from people. This probably isn't the story you were hoping for but it's the one that Ransom gave me.

Ransom Drysdale x Shy!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Bad family, Self-esteem issues, Stalker behavior. Please let me know if I missed any!

The first time Ransom flirted with you, you were certain it was a prank. Your face heated with embarrassment and you basically ran away.

It was rather unique experience for him and he was intrigued. He decided to run some tests and see if that's just how you were or if it was him specifically. He frequented the bookstore you worked at, observing your interactions with others versus himself. Some may have called it "stalking" but he called it "research". And he'd spend enough money at the store your boss would never tell him he wasn't welcome.

When he realizes you weren't faking, that you react the same whenever anyone gives you a compliment, he's even more intrigued. He's never seen someone so easily flustered and thinks you could be a lot of fun to play with.

Just like when he first flirted with you, when he asked you out on a date you immediately thought it was a prank and tried to run off. He cut in front of you, careful not to touch you without permission (he doesn't need an assault charge, after all).

"I'm being serious," he tells you. "I'm not trying to hurt you, I just...you seem like an interesting person and I'd like to get to know you better."

Your face is burning as you look down at your feet. "I just want to work, sir."

"Please? Just one date," he offers with that look he knows works on all the ladies. Well, all but you because you're not looking at him. "How about just a coffee together at the cafe next door? Please?"

And that's how you and Ransom started dating. Much to his mother's chagrin.

Initially Linda just scoffed when she met you. A bookstore employee dating her son? No way was this going to last. Best to not even get to know the poor girl's name. Ransom was just gonna use you for his amusement and dump you like he always does.

Except he doesn't. Over the months Ransom finds himself more and more amused and intrigued by you and your overly shy reactions. Sure it was just a fun experiment to begin with but he's finding he enjoys being your anchor. He likes that someone finds him so reliable, so safe. It's a side of himself he never knew about until you. The fact that, even after all these months of "spoiling" you, you still don't expect him to is something very new for him.

You never shrug at the gifts. You never ask for them, either. Part of him worries you'll never understand that it's okay to accept compliments, to accept gifts. So he makes sure to shower you in both, hoping it'll sink in.

"For the last time, Linda, I'm not getting rid of her."

"She's beneath you, Ransom. I get you've found yourself a charity case, but you can't get emotionally attached to these things."

"She's not a thing."

"But you agree she's a charity case," Linda asserts. "I've seen your spending habits, Ransom. You can't expect me to think she's at all good for you! She's clearly just interested in getting her grubby hands on our fortune!"

Ransom rolls his eyes. "She has never asked for any of the stuff I get her. I get them for her because her reactions are so much fun."

Linda rolls her own eyes, "I don't need to hear about your exploits in bed. I need you to get your spending under control and drop the gold digger!"

"But I'm having so much fun!" Ransom pleads. If his mother won't listen to reason, maybe she'll listen to this.

"Ugh, fine. Keep playing with your...toy. Just don't expect me to like her. And definitely tell me when you've finally dumped her back in the trailer home she came from. I've got a girl lined up for you that I think you'll like."

Ransom knows whoever it is his mother wants to set him up with is the daughter, niece, cousin of one of her friends. He'd rather die than date them. But he's done with this conversation so he turns away and that's when he sees you, crying.

"I'm...I'm just gonna go," you mumble before running off.

Ransom tries to go after you but Linda holds him back saying, "it's for the best. Now she finally knows, you're both done with each other. So let me tell you about Trillia. She's Karen's niece..."

Ransom doesn't hear anything. He breaks her grip and goes storming out after you but once outside, he can't find you. He tries texting, calling, messaging, everything he can think but no response.

After a bit he drives over to your apartment complex. He hits the buzzer for your apartment, no response. Maybe you weren't home yet? The buses weren't the most reliable. Maybe you'd taken the wrong bus? Fuck. He sits in his car and decides to wait. Every 15 or 20 minutes he tries calling you but you still don't answer.

Well, there's one place he knows you'll be at eventually.

It's taken a few days of waiting. Apparently you've been calling in sick. Ransom can understand that, given the likely shock you were experiencing. He hadn't been taking the best care of himself while trying to get hold of you again. He'd even developed a bit of stubble because he couldn't be bothered to shave.

But now, finally, you were back at work and he could talk to you. Well, he could if you'd let him. He knows creating a scene will make things worse for you so he's trying his best to not call out, yell at you to stop ignoring him, whatever. But you know the store so much better than him and are frequently able to get away, making him look for you all over again.

When it finally sinks in that he's not going to give up you let him find you one last time. Before he can even open his mouth you tell him, "it's over Ransom. I knew you were never interested in me so I'm just giving us both the blessing of cutting things off."

"I was just telling my mother what she wanted to hear. What I knew would get her off our backs. How could you think I was never interested?"

"You never took 'no' for an answer," you tell him bluntly. "I didn't want to go on a date, but you wouldn't leave me alone. I didn't want the expensive gifts you got me, but you insisted. i'd practically beg you to stop buying me things but you wouldn't hear it. It was all about you, never me. How could I not know you weren't actually interested?"

"Well excuse me for wanting to shower you with gifts!" Ransom immediately regrets snapping at you, making you wince. "I'm sorry. I just...I thought..."

"You enjoyed making me uncomfortable," you sigh. "You're not the first, won't be the last. I know I'm ridiculous. That I shouldn't be so shy. But you didn't have to make fun of me for it."

Ransom feels his heart break. It's true, he enjoyed your reactions, enjoyed being the one you hugged, and hid with. But was it really fair to you? He really never considered your discomfort beyond his own enjoyment of it. Beyond his own need to feel needed.

"I'm sorry," he finally sputters. "I'll...I'll try to be better."

You shake your head, "it's for the best, Ransom. Now please, for once, respect my 'no' and leave me alone."

Ransom wants to argue. To say it's not what you think. To swear to do better by you in the future. But it would only serve to prove your point. So instead he nods and leaves.

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

Gi-hun | SFW Alphabet | S1 + S2 | 

Warnings: S1 and S2 Gi-hun - He does NOT have a daughter on this - Sad!Gi-hun - Soft moments - grammar mistakes -

Template Credit

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

S1: He is so foward with it. Physical affection its a must for him. He loves to give you long hugs and kisses. Whenever he sees you he has a dumb sick smile on his face. He knows he is not perfect so he tries to compensate it with small gestures.

S2: He gets more reserved and does not smile as he used to. He still likes to hold you. In fact he needs to. Most nights he needs you in his arms to avoid nightmares. He gives short and small smiles to you. And gets more protective.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

S1: I see him becoming friends with anyone. As a best friend Gi-hun is someone who offers you a shoulder to cry, even if he has his own problems. He knows he is far from perfect and has lots of problems when it comes to gambling and debts, he would not want you to be near these two things. Maybe he will try to hide that from you so you dont think less of him.

But as I said, he is caring and does look out for you with the little things he has.

S2: More protective. He is afraid the ones from the game will come after him or the ones he loves and cares. And since you were there for him since the moment he got out from the games (yes even when he lived on the streets) he has you on high regard.

Cries to you about his mom's death and what happened during the games.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

S1: He LOVES them!! S1 Gi-hun its a softie and loves cuddles. He loves to have you besides him at the couch with your head on his chest. When in bed he likes to be the big spoon with you facing him or giving him your back. He will leave kisses all over you.

S2: Its more like a need. He needs to know he is safe from the games and that you are alive.

Nights are a most, he ends being the small spoon during them. Needing you to comfort him. Sometimes he cries in his sleep pulling you closer to him.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

S1: No. He likes the relationship you two have but does not want to take the next step and get married with you. He feels like he does not deserve you and is afraid after his failed first marriage. He is also BAD at both, mostoy needing his mom's help to keep the aparment clean.

He asks how you put up with him a lot.

S2: Yes and No. Yes because he now knows just how fast things can go wrong and how fast he could lose you. Its not like he never thought of it before, he was just too scared. But now he does want it. At least legally so he can call you his. But also no, because he is afraid you will end being a target for the ones in charge of tha games.

He got a bit better at cleaning and cooking but its not that good at it. He does it because he needs a clean space so he can install all the different things he is using to track down The Salesman and the one behind the games.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

S1: Honestly? He may not do it. He is selfish and does want you to be with him. Even if he knows he is not good enoguh or has lots of problems

S2: Its going to break him but he may do it to protect you. Even if you beg him not to.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

S1: Kind of already answered but he most likely wont want to do it. Between debts and his first marriage...yeah he is not ready.

S2: If he feels like with it he may proyect you then yes. He also knows how fast life changes and ends so he wants to be with you like that.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

S1: 10/10 He is a SOFTIE on both aspects. Loves to hug you and kiss you, its not afraid of PDA and emotionally he is an open book. At least with how much he loves you and cares for you.

S2: He gets more secluded.  Emotionally he does not want to let you see his dark sides. His mind is quiet plagued with nightmares and sometimes he is afraid on what he could do. He wants you to know he still loves you. Physically he is more reserved too. He is afraid yes, but also needs you to ground himself. He may not hug you as much.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

S1: YES!! All the time and under any type of excuse. He just loves to feel you close to him.

S2: Less of a giver but willing to get them. May look like he does not want to them but one look at his eyes and you know how broken he is. A hug from you sometimes its the only thing that keeps him going.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

S1: He feels it but does not say it out loud till long time into the relationship. Maybe he is confused at first, his love evolves quickly something that scares him. In fact he may ignore you for a few days once he realizes it.

S2: Knows he loves you and tells you every single day. Does not play around with it. He wants you to know it. If I did not tell you before he went to the games then these are the first words he mutters to you the first time he sees you again.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

S1: Yes, but because he believes he is not good enoguh for you. Thinks one day you will find someone better or realize that he is not worth of your love.

When he is jealous he becomes quiet sad and closes himself. Its not like he is angry at you but rather at himself. You will need to sit him down for a long talk about it.

S2: Oh, he is but now its mixed with him being protective and possessive of you as well. Wants no one near you. Remember the people working for him ? Yes these are off limits from you. Jun-ho ? Also a big no.

In fact almost no one knows about you. He MIGHT tell Jun-ho about you since the Man is a police but thats it.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

S1: Quick pecks when he is running late, long ones when he is at home and has time. He likes to kiss your lips and cheecks and the same for him. He also gets red everytime you two kiss.

S2: Long and passionate ones, he puts all his feelings on it. Letting you know how much you mean to him. Ends with his forhead against yours.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

S1: He is fine with them but does not want them right now. He is happy with you and only you in his life.

S2: Same thing. Even less now. May have think of it at some point even during games but seeing how broken mentally he is now he does not feel ready for them.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

S1: On work days mornings are rushed. Gi-hun tends to oversleep and ends with you waking him up and giving him a quick breakfast and kiss. On free days you two would stay in bed for long hours, sleeping, talking, such enjoying each others company.

S2: He barely sleeps, knows its morning because of a clock he has. Mornings and nights are the same to him.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

S1: He likes to sleep late. Usually because he ends seeing a program on the TV or drinking. Of course this makes mornings worse. When its a night without the worry of tomorrow then you two enjoy a movie together.

S2: Bad. He feels like his life its not his any longer and night time makes him feel worse. He needs you to be with him, you dont need to talk just be there for him.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

S1: He is pretty Open about himself. Talks a lot and fast, sometimes he will slap himself mentally because he told you something odd about himself without noticing. Its all in good heart, you just make hin so confused and happy!!

S2: If you two did not share a relationship in the past then he is a closed book and wont even try to date anyone.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

S1: With you he is quiet patient. Only when he is stressed or feels like all things are being too much he loses control.

S2: VERY. He knows he has changed and its a big thing to deal with. Does not expect you to be able to fully accept him at once or even beliving him.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

S1: Almost nothing. He may remember your favorite food but its lost with the rest. Most times its you who ends telling him that its a special date and he just goes "???".

S2: Too much focus on finding the ones from the games. But he now puts effort on remember things that makes you happy, trying to make up for when he would not even try.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

S1: When you two are alone and in silence. He loves to just be there with you. Simple things are good things to him.

S2: Pretty much the same. When he is able to relax and put his guard down and be with you. Even if its in a love hotel, he likes knowing he has you by his side.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

S1: Unless he knows you are being tormented by loan sharks (it opens up a big protective side on him, its able to even tells them to leave you alone), he is not that protective since he thinks you are safe. Would he like to be protected? Maybe, but wont tell you.

S2: PROTECTIVE MODE AT 100%. He trusts no one to be with you or close to you. If you can quit your job and be with him 24/7 then please do. He begs you to. If you say you dont want to then he will teach you to fight and manage guns, put a track on your phone and car if you use one.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

S1: Even if he does not remember much of when a centrain date is, he TRIES to make it good for you. Will use his little money to get you a small present and if he has no money for it would feel miserable. On everyday tasks he is lazy and would need for you to ask him or tell him to help around.

S2: He makes it up for how he used to be. Now that he has money gets you the most special things he can. Puts a stop for the days he wants to spent with you (even if you two are only in the love hotel). Helps more with daily tasks and even offers to do all himself.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

S1: Lazy, likes to get drunk, gambles, its lowkey a kid sometimes.

S2: More secretive, a bit cold sometimes, emotionally distant from time to time.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

S1: Could not care less. He has clothes on ? Then its good. Only when meeting up with you would he try and put more effort. Takes care of his hair since he knows you like it a lot.

S2: Same as before. He is more clean becuase he has the ways too. And dress better because he can buy New clothes but its also a show of how he has changed. Knows you miss his curly hair.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

S1: YES. He considers you a very important part of his life, if you break up with him then he would be really sad.

S2: MORE YES. Dont even leave him please. He needs someone. He knows you would be safer without him but he is selfish and wants you by his side.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

S1: Falls fast and hard. Its not like he believes in love at first sight...well maybe he does. He is a mess when he is in love. Blushes a lot around you, messes up whatever he is going to do. But is also very caring!!

S2: Its so protective of you. And also you are the only one who he lets in. No one can pass the walls he has made to be safe.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

S1: Someone who is just plain rude and violent. Someone who has no morals.

S2: After the games ? Someone who uses others for their own fun or just uses others and is abusive.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

S1: BAD. He loves to stay awake till later hours of the night. And prefers naps over a healthy sleep habit.

S2: WORSE. He sleeps when his body demands him to. And even with that he only gets four hours at max.

[peace-hunter]

we're just oblivious to these demigods seeing our humble species.

YEAH already the autbots themselves are so very big and so very old that it's hard for the humans to wrap their mind around it, so very few can begin to understand what it means when optimus tells them his family is much, much older (and taller :/) than he or most of his friends

also i'm stuck with the mental image of one of their humans being completely in awe of the sheer size of the autobots, especially optimus, and saying something along the lines of "there must be little that can make you feel small, uh?" and optimus being like "you'd be surprised :|" because he's literally being used as armrest by solus as they speak

but you are absolutely right about them being so, so, so glad to see optimus bouncing back after losing cybertron, even if it involves squishy, weird looking tiny aliens. they're just grateful there's something that can make optimus smile agan even if it's not nearly the same as before

(and oh does it ache to know that even their before isn't really what optimus used to be. that they never got to know their youngest at his brightest, that they only met him when he'd already tasted death and betrayal and heartbreak)

they're especially relieved because they too are dealing with the fact that they couldn't save their world again. they too are grieving their planet and all the lives that were lost with it. they too are struggling to keep going after everything that happened.

and, perhaps not the worst of all but certainly the closest to heart, they failed optimus. they were supposed to guide him, to support him, to help him lead their world to a better future. and they failed.

they weren't enough then and they doubt they could be enough now

so when optimus latches onto a tiny, primitive, weird little species that nonetheless brings him a meassure of joy, they cannot help but be grateful at the unexpected lifeline they were granted.

they do kinda wish he could've chosen something less squishy. or delicate. they would even settle for a longer lifespan at least OTL

so what would the primes think of humans?

it kinda depends on who you ask but in general they find them just. very tiny. and squishy looking.

some like onyx and quintus find them kinda cute. others like prima and amalgamous think they're kinda ugly but in a cute way. liege just thinks they're plain ugly. he learns to appreciate them in his own way but he never stops finding them a little weird.

solus is impressed by how much things they can do and how much destruction they can create when they're so tiny and their technology so lacking. their tech is soooo primitive but she's making grabby hands at some of those explosives to see what they can do.

zeta is grateful solus cannot in fact get her hands on any of those explosives.

and megatronus is for once glad he's incorporeal. just the thought of how careful he would have to be to not step on them at all times stresses him out.

[reallife6anoufriev6boy6]

artkita fluffy smut fic

includes artyom actually being nice for once, handjobs, lots of kissing, finger sucking, etc.

note: i didnt get to read it all the way through and i had to rush it a little bit im sorry.. i hope you enjoy anyway!

“tyoma, tyoma,” nikita whined as artyom pressed himself to him, grinding against him in a hurried, desperate manner “please, please.”

artyom groaned, his erection straining against his jeans and making the perfect tent. he was beyond hard at this point all because of his friend. he never liked to admit it out loud, but he always got him going.

“what, kitja? please what?” he asked, voice rough from the pleasure he was receiving.

“touch me, please,” he responds back breathlessly, eyes fluttering as he bucked his hips up “i want to feel you, tyoma, please.”

he sounded so pathetic when begged like that, but it made artyoms cock twitch in his pants.

“touch you how?” of course though, he always had to ask further. he wants to hear it all from him, know everything he has to say.

nikita opens his mouth to speak, but lets out a moan instead. the incessant grinding and dry humping from the other was making it hard for him to talk at all.

“i want - your fingers in my mouth,” he speaks between breaths and whines “and i want your - your hand on my dick, please.” it was so sweet to hear him say it out loud. he already knew thats what he wanted, but it was better to hear him say it.

artyom pauses his movements “yeah, alright.” he decides to do it, figuring it wouldnt be an awful idea. his hand snakes between the two of them, unbuckling both of their belts before unzipping their jeans.

he pulls nikitas pants and boxers down a little, unsurprised to see his cock fully erect and waiting. it was flushed pink and dripping precum from the tip. the look on his face matched too - his bangs were sticking to his sweaty forehead and his pale cheeks were flushed the same pink. it was adorable.

“youre so hard for me, kitja,” he teased with a grin, pulling his own cock out of his boxers “do you want it that bad?”

his own dick was equally as hard, the tip sticky with precum too. it had smeared on his boxers, so his erection was already covered in it.

nikita stared at him, swallowing hard “yeah, yeah, please,” it was something he had seen plenty of times before, but it wasn’t any less amazing to see each time “youre so - so beautiful, tyoma.”

artyom chuckled softly, leaning in and placing a kiss to the other boys lips. nikita accepted it eagerly and gladly reciprocated. his lips are so soft against nikitas chapped ones that it goes together so well. he parts them, letting the blonde stick his tongue in, which he does.

they stay together like that for a moment, nikitas hand coming up to artyoms neck and resting there - fingers intertwined with his long hair.

they pull away soon enough though, their lips covered in spit. it was gross, really, but they loved it.

he offers him his hand “spit, kitja,” he instructs “be good and spit on my hand.” normally he wouldnt like such disgusting acts, but he would tolerate it this time.

nikita spits on his hand without hesitation, looking at him for praise and validation after the fact. he looked like a little puppy dog.

“good boy, so good.” he purred, reaching his hand down. he takes bother of their cocks in his hand, holding them together. his breath hitched and the other whimpered.

he slowly pulls his hand up and then back down to the bases. it felt better like this, to feel him twitch against him every time he moved his hand in the way he liked.

however, theres something else he wants.

“i know you want something else.” he prompts him to ask for it.

“your fingers. i want your fingers in my mouth.” he replies back, voice shaky.

“why, sweetheart?” he says the petname just to tease him and it does, earning a groan from him.

“i want to… to feel like im sucking your dick.” he says it even quieter then before, clearly embarrassed.

“why dont you just suck it then?” its a fair question, but he already knows the answer.

“because i want to stay like this,” his tone of voice sounds a little more needy, getting antsy for him to do as he asked “please, tyoma.”

artyom would typically deny nikita of what he wanted, outright refuse and tell him to suck it up, but he was feeling kind tonight. he had already treated him with sweetness, so why stop now? he definitely could, but then he wouldnt get what he wanted either.

he offers him two of his fingers without another word, nikita happily takes them in his mouth. it was wet and warm, his tongue felt good against the calloused pads of his fingers.

he runs his tongue along the two given to him, licking the underside and tips of each of them. he had sucked his dick plenty of times to know just how he liked it - he wanted to show him that he knew, hoping hes take notice, and he did.

of course he took notice. he notices everything. it makes his breath hitch and he presses his fingers against his tongue “good job, nikita.” he says his name in the way he likes, listening to him whine and buck up his hips.

he continues to stroke both of their cocks as well with his other hand, going from base to tip. nikita was much more sensitive then him so getting to watch and feel every little twitch and jump was amazing. it added onto how it felt for him too.

itd be a lie if artyom said nikita didnt look beautiful like this. the way he fluttered his eyelashes and whined whenever anything felt particularly good - being so unashamed to buck his hips up into his hand and suck on his fingers like a whore. it was beautiful in its own way and he was enjoying every second of it.

it wasnt often he enjoyed anything like this, but he would let himself have just this one thing. he was never really attracted to his friend, but in times like this he couldnt help it.

nikita starts to really suck on his fingers now, moving his head back and forth as well like he really was sucking on his dick. it makes the blonde groan, quickening the pace of his other hand.

he whimpered, grabbing onto his wrist and pulling his fingers out of his mouth. they were wet and slick with spit, just as he intended. he keeps them right over his lips, placing kisses to them. he really could be so perfect when he cooperated.

he stares right as him as he continued to kiss them. the spit was all over his lips and dripping down his chin, again, just like he had really been sucking his dick.

“youre so good for me,” artyom huffed, twisting his wrist “youre perfect.” it wasnt a compliment he ever gave to him. he would always insult him instead.

his eyes got big for a moment like a cat “really?”he sounds pathetic when he asks, but he seems so happy to hear him say it.

“yeah, so perfect. all for me, no one else.” nikita moaned at that thought, more then happy to only belong to his friend. he wouldnt have it any other way.

“all yours, tyoma. im all yours.” he replies, more precum beading at the tip of his cock. it just went to show how much he liked this.

“yeah? you wouldnt ever let anyone else do this to you?” the notion had an impact on him too. he wouldnt say that, but it was obvious it did.

he shook his head “no - no, i wouldnt. only you. i only want you.” it was the complete and honest truth, there was no one else on this shitty planet that he could want.

artyom groaned, his own erection twitching against the others. there was an odd satisfaction that came with knowing he basically owned nikita. he could make him do whatever he wanted, but he would exercise that power at a later date.

for now, he wanted to finish and watch him do it too, which wouldnt be much longer based on the way his body kept tensing up and ghen relaxing.

“are you gonna finish?” he decided to ask, knowing it would embarrass him.

“yeah, yeah.” he answered, humiliated. he was always quick to cum when he acted so kind and sweet to him. normally it would get him made fun of, but this time it doesnt.

instead, he smiled and pulled his hand away from his mouth, catching his lips in a kiss. for once he didnt care about how gross all the spit on his mouth was and just enjoyed it.

nikita lets go of his wrist and his hair, wrapping his arms over his neck and shoulders. artyom cupped his face using his spit covered hand. it was so disgusting, but it fit them so well.

both of them were pretty close to say the least, but especially nikita. he was starting to become even more of a mess - gripping onto the back of his shirt and constantly bucking his hips up. he wanted it so bad and artyom, for once, wasnt going to deprive him.

he pulls away from the kiss just for a moment, placing his forehead to his while he panted.

“i know you want to,” his own voice was needy, a deep growl in his chest “do it, cum for me, kitja.” it was so possessive and attractive with the way he said it - quiet and low like it was just for him to hear.

thats all it takes for him. he lets out a small cry, moaning his name as he finished all over his hand - painting it in white. it wasnt long until artyom was cumming right alongside him.

it was a grotesque display of their natural behaviors, but neither of them cared. not when it felt so good.

neither of them dare to speak as they start coming down from their respective highs. it was like they didnt want to ruin the moment, not wanting to shatter the small amount of peace they had.

however, it is broken eventually. nikitas voice cuts through the silence.

“thank you,” hes breathless, not having fully recovered “i love you, artyom.” it was a risky thing to say. he never got anything good out of saying it, violence was the only thing ever returned to him, but this wasnt an opportunity he wanted to miss.

artyom isnt sure how to respond though. he was never one for the intimacy and romance of sexual situations. he never knew how to handle it.

he remains silent as he lets go of themselves, his hand sticky and wet with semen from each of them.

he pulls his head back a little to look at him, seeing the expectant look on his face. he was desperate for him to say it too.

“i love you too, nikita.”

it might be one of the first times hes ever said that. the way nikita smiles in return is absolutely priceless, pulling him back into another wet, warm, and sloppy kiss.

the night truly couldnt get better then this.