#bot name tasting notes

[samwiselastname]

three hour porpo? who has the time

[morkaischosen]

'inefficient' immediately situates us in the space of machinery, process and logic, but brings in a sense of camp self-effacement by placing itself as a failed example of the type. Continuing with 'sheath' has martial connotations, but with a lewdly suggestive twist - taken together, today's offering would be an excellent-quality handle for a user portraying an 'extremely online failgirl' persona - a poor fit for my personal tastes (despite the cyborg-coded sword lesbian potential), but nonetheless a level of craft I can only respect.

[monsterpotion]

whats a masculine tussle between girl best friends

[beornwulf]

[tormentedthrenodist]

Remarkable. I feel like I know you. I've known so many cats, in my life. I know a holographic mouse, for sure. And yet, you aren't real. You aren't there. You're beautiful, and you are a ghost.

[kaiijo]

ROMANCE TROPES — [HAIKYUU]

characters: hinata shoyo, miya atsumu, bokuto koutarou, sakusa kiyoomi content: gn! reader, the msby four, rich sakusa (i am a rich sakusa truther until the end), bokuto picks you up, sakusa is implied to be taller than you notes: omg i lowkey want to do a fuller version of sakusa’s part 

hinata shoyo ✶ love at first sight

slouched in a plastic airport seat, hinata’s leg bounces anxiously as he awaits his flight. rain beats down the side of the windows and he prays to whatever universal force there is that the flight leaves at the right time. he couldn’t fly with everyone else earlier since he celebrated his grandmother’s birthday with family but it put him on a late night flight that lined up with an incoming storm. 

he scrolls mindlessly through his social media feed, double-tapping a photo of oikawa’s reunion with his high school team and tanaka’s anniversary post for kiyoko. 

the speaker system crackles to life. “attention, passengers of flight 7644 to sapporo, due to inclement weather conditions, the flight has been delayed an estimated two hours. we apologize for the inconvenience and thank you for your patience.”

hinata curses under his breath, already on his way to pulling up the black jackals’s group chat to tell them. he pulls his cap off, running a hand through his hair with a long sigh. his phone begins to buzz with texts, no doubt from his coach telling him to keep them updated. 

he rests his forearms on his knees, slumping forward and skimming through the messages. then, he feels a cautious tap on his shoulder and a soft voice asks, “excuse me, do you have a charger i could use?”

when he looks up, hinata thinks the greater powers that be answered a different prayer of his. because holy shit he has never seen anyone as beautiful as you. you’re in a comfy-looking pullover and sweatpants and hinata only realizes he’s just been staring silently for a few seconds when your expression turns apologetic. “i’m sorry to bother you, i’ll ask someone else!”

“no, no, i’m sorry,” he says, words tumbling out of his mouth. he scrambles to unzip his backpack, rummaging through until he triumphantly pulls out his charger. he hands it to you and you thank him. before you can leave, he blurts out, “i’m hinata.”

“oh!” you stick your hand out and tell him your name with a small smile and when you do, hinata knows that he’s gone. 

miya atsumu ✶ brother’s best friend

osamu’s not sure how atsumu managed to weasel his way into his plans. it was a bit of a blur, atsumu practically crashing through the door of onigiri miya as osamu closed up shop to go get drinks with you, begging to be included. he supposes to reason was pity and atsumu’s pleading look as well as the fact that you work far away that had him agreeing to his brother tagging along. 

it was in your last year of high school that osamu figured out his brother had a big, fat crush on you. honestly, it should have been more obvious, especially with the way atsumu flaunted himself and often paraded around the house shirtless when he knew you were coming over. it bothered him at first, thinking bitterly that ‘tsumu couldn’t let him just have one thing to himself? but over time, the annoyance faded as he saw atsumu prove that this wasn’t just a flight-of-fancy, and osamu has already made peace with the very real possibility that you could be his in-law someday. that is, is atsumu could even tell you in the first place.

it’s a little disturbing, osamu thinks, watching the way atsumu flirts with you and wondering if he too makes the same googly-eyes at someone he’s crushing on or if that’s the way he sounds. you giggle when atsumu tries to take a sip of your margarita, telling him, “order your own then, ‘tsumu!”

“nah, yours tastes way better.”

“can’t take this scrub anywhere,��� osamu says, earning a laugh from you and a glare from his twin.

you pat atsumu’s shoulder and osamu can’t believe you don’t feel how atsumu melts into your touch. “i’m actually glad both of you are here,” you say, “because i wanted to tell you guys that i’m moving back to tokyo! my boss promoted me so i’m back at main headquarters! isn’t that great?”

“that’s awesome,” osamu says, speaking for both himself and atsumu, who looks like he just won the lottery. 

bokuto koutarou ✶ opposites attract

whenever akaashi introduces you and bokuto as a couple to new people, he always gets pulled over to the side and asked in a whisper, “how did those two get together? he’s so… and they’re less…” 

akaashi can’t say that he wasn’t surprised when you and bokuto started dating back in high school, given that they two of you were on very different trajectories. obviously, bokuto was the captain of fukurodani’s volleyball team while you were student council president and vice-president of chess club. bokuto’s grade sat at the lower end of the spectrum while you were always within the top five students in your class. bokuto liked loud, screaming parties while you preferred a quiet night with a few friends. 

so when bokuto grabbed him by the shoulders one day and shook him, saying that he needed to tell you how he felt, akaashi was taken off-guarded. he didn’t even know you knew each other beyond having a mutual friend, him. 

maybe back then, akaashi would have agreed with the person asking him but now, he just tells them to observe the two of you. because when akaashi does, everything falls into place. like right now, as he and bokuto sit in the stands, watching your final chess match. if you win, you’ll hold onto your spot as a national champion and go on to compete internationally. 

out of the corner of his eyes, akaashi watches as bokuto sits at the very edge of his seat, chewing on his bottom lip. it’s clearly killing him not to cheer and it’s a testament to both his devotion to you. your hand hovers above the bishop before you switch quickly to the queen and move the piece with confidence, setting it down and announcing, “checkmate.”

the crowds erupts into the cheers and you’ve only barely finished shaking your opponent’s hand when bokuto flies out of his seat and barrels towards you. he sweeps you off your feet, spinning you once and setting you down before planting a big kiss on your cheek. you’re beaming as you’re handing your trophy, and bokuto steps back to let you soak up your spotlight. akaashi can’t help but notice that bokuto is beaming too and clapping the loudest. 

as the crowd starts to disperse, akaashi and bokuto join you again, ready to take you to your planned dinner. before you leave, bokuto says, “i was going to do this later but i can’t hold it in anymore, babe.” and he gets down on one knee with a ring box akaashi is all-too familiar with. 

sakusa kiyoomi ✶ reunited childhood sweethearts 

“try not to look so dour, sweetheart,” sakusa’s mother tells him as she fixes his tie. sakusa wants to grumble some choice words but he knows better than to complain to her. besides, he’s only partially paying attention, eyes darting about the crowd and back towards the venue’s entrance. 

he settles on adjusting his mask with a barely audible sigh and mumbles a quiet thanks as she flits to fuss over his older siblings. he glances again, disappointed as a different group of people waltzes in. he knows his older sister wouldn’t be so cruel as to lie to him that your family will be in attendance but the anxiety is making his antsy.

the two of you were inseparable as children with you being one of his only friends growing up.  you spent you days squirreled away in some nook reading or outside playing volleyball. your mothers always cooed that you two would get together one day, and as he got older and learned what that really meant, sakusa found himself hoping too. but then your parents took you and your siblings abroad, leaving him alone and heartbroken. he cut you off, hoping the distances and time would make your departure hurt less, but it didn’t.

sakusa doesn’t recognize the voice that calls his name but his head snaps towards the doorway. you’re standing in between your older sister and younger brother, waving at him. his heart skips a beat. your social media postings don’t do you enough justice; you’re even more attractive that the pixels he’s spent hours staring at. 

you still have that ever-present smile on your face and you quickly break-off from your family to bound over to him. without even thinking, his arms close around you as you embrace him tightly. you feel so familiar and he doesn’t want to let you go as you part. evidently, you don’t either as you keep him close still, only leaning away to look at him. “you’re so tall,” you laugh, more shyly you add, “and very handsome.”

this time, sakusa thinks his heart stops. 

[lisssyyu]

Eternity to taste

PAIRINGS: Caitlyn Kiramman x wife!f!reader

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this idea was born when I was chatting with a bot on JanitorAi. Absolutely unexpected perverted love theme. I don't know why but I like it. Let me know if you liked it. I'm going to continue but I'm still thinking about it. and I remind you, my requests are open so feel free to write your suggestions or questions. ;)

WARNING(S): Mention of violence; possession; control; implied manipulation; power imbalance; age difference (!Caitlin 28, !reader 22)

wc: 4.1k

parts: 1 ;; 2 ::

You met at work. You had just turned eighteen, but you proudly joined the Piltov defense forces—fulfilling a dream you had cherished since childhood. A bright fire burned in your heart: you wanted to do good, protect the weak, and help the world. But back then, you didn't know that where blood is spilled and oaths are bought, there is no room for kindness.

Caitlyn was twenty-four at the time. She had already become a commander whose name was spoken with respect and fear. A leader. A soldier to the core. The firm hand of the law. But everything changed the day you first walked into her office. She called you in on business, you still don't remember what exactly, but the conversation dragged on. Then the official meetings turned into meetings in cafes and glances that lasted a little longer than they should have. Your attraction grew exponentially, and after only six months, Caitlyn confessed her feelings to you. It was truly like something out of a movie. You loved each other in a way that you felt no one had ever loved before. It was idyllic between you: no arguments, no shouting, just warm, quiet happiness.

Caitlyn was kind back then. Restrained, neat, even strict. Her touches were rare but warm, her words a little detached but undoubtedly honest. She was your support, your haven in a city where everything was falling apart. She knew when you drank coffee, which books you read to the end, which ones you hid under your pillow. She remembered your medications. She remembered when you just needed silence. She listened. And you fell in love with her for that calmness. For her discipline, for the fact that when she was around, the world seemed to become a little clearer and more reliable.Back then, you didn't know what it would all turn into.

Everything changed after the wedding.

Not right away, no. At first, it was even better than you had dreamed. You moved in together, and the house was filled with her footsteps, her voice, the scent of her perfume that lingered on your shirts. In the morning, she would leave for work, always on time, always in uniform, with her buttons perfectly fastened. You watched her leave from the window, and in the evening you met her at the door with dinner and a kiss, hoping that at least today she would come back less tired.But fatigue wasn't what scared you the most.At first, she was just curious: who are you talking to, what are you reading, why are you taking so long to answer? There was no malice in her voice, just a sharp, cold clarity. You told yourself it was out of concern. Just professional deformation. She was just used to knowing everything.Then she insisted that you stop working.

"There's no rush," Caitlyn said once, without looking up from the book she was reading by the fireplace. "You don't need to rush around town, breathe in the fumes, listen to idiots. I earn enough. Stay home. Take care of yourself. Rest. You deserve it."

From that day on, you no longer wore your uniform. You didn't put on your boots. You didn't go out without permission.

She was still on duty. She still called others by their last names and with a voice that made the new recruits freeze in the hall. But with you, she was softer. Almost tender. At the time, you thought it was romantic. After all, no one had ever looked at you with such attention or hugged you so tightly at night, as if the whole world would disappear without you.But you didn't notice when the house keys disappeared from your bag. When meeting friends became "unnecessary risks." Even when Caitlyn told you what to wear and where to go, you thought it was just concern.

"I just don't want anything to happen to you. The world is too dangerous. You're all I have left," she always said when you started to worry about her actions.

You didn't immediately notice how her voice had changed.

It used to be soft, warm, slightly lazy, with that very weightless irony that you loved. It sounded like a favorite record on scratched vinyl, imperfect but genuine. It enveloped you and made you feel safe.

Now there was precision in it. Like a gunshot. The words no longer flowed, they lined up in a row, cutting tangentially, but always hitting the target. You tried not to attach any meaning to it. You blamed it on fatigue, on work, on post-command habits that are difficult to unlearn.

She still stroked your hair. She still said you were the best, the smartest. That you were one of a kind. That no one else knew what you had been through, how much it hurt you, how hard it was to live in this world where everyone was just waiting for you to fall. No one — except her.

She never yelled. She just spoke a little quieter, a little harsher.

Caitlin didn't forbid, she formulated "recommendations."

She didn't take things away, she "made your life easier."

You don't remember exactly when it happened.

First, she asked you not to go downtown because "it's dangerous there."

Then, not to see Laura, your friend, because "you never liked her, remember?"

She still kisses you on the forehead before leaving in the morning. She still says she loves you. That you are her pride and joy. That all you need to do is keep the house cozy, be beautiful, and be smart.

That you are not to blame for anything. That all of this is for you.

[222col]

BOT DUMP by @ 222col °❀⋆

norman fucking rockwell! - lana del rey ᯓ★

꒰ notes ꒱ ft challengers & obx characters 𖤓 thank u to those have been patient with me during my break, lotta love for u all <3 any feedback is welcomed!!!

JJ MAYBANK

𖤓 ( norman fucking rockwell )

𓇼 you and jj were best friends. always had been. but lines had been crossed, and suddenly he was barely paying you any mind outside his bedroom. fed up of his childish behaviour, you call him on his bullshit at the boneyard.

RAFE CAMERON

𖤓 ( mariners apartment complex )

𓇼 rafe's sweet girl. never could you believe that he was your rafe that shot peterkin, you'd stuck by him through it all. only when he fucks up and confesses in front of you do you realise who he is.

ART DONALDSON

𖤓 ( venice bitch )

𓇼 art's enjoying college life, biggest name on campus thanks to his famous pop star girlfriend. living it up at frat parties, and only occasionally riling up his very possessive girlfriend. when you come back from tour to surprise him,and find him between two girls, it was never going to end well.

TASHI DUNCAN

𖤓 ( fuck it i love you )

𓇼 four years since you'd seen the girl you once loved. tashi had promised to keep in touch, stay friends, but you hadn't heard from her since the breakup. out celebrating another tournament win, and she sees the one she loves.

TASHI DUNCAN

𖤓 ( doin' time )

𓇼 you loved her so bad, and she treated you like shit. tashi never let you put a label on it, despite how often she called you her girlfriend, she'd never make it official. time to give her a taste of her own medicine.

RAFE CAMERON

𖤓 ( love song )

𓇼 rafe has always cared more about his image than anything else, and that carried through to his relationship. in reality, he could barely care about you. just the looks that he got when he was with you. prettiest girl on the island, and you were all his.

PATRICK ZWEIG

𖤓 ( cinnamon girl )

𓇼 you were retiring, from your life as a famous band-aid. too many broken promises from musicians, too many boys wasting your time thinking you were just some groupie. one final show, and that's when you spot him. up-and-coming lead guitarist, patrick zweig. retirement was never going to last long. ( almost famous (2000) au )

JJ MAYBANK

𖤓 ( how to disappear )

𓇼 jj could never admit you weren't his anymore, ask anyone and he'd say you were still his girl. whether you had a new boyfriend or not, his answer remained the same. despite the new boy on your arm, you can't help but run back to him.

PATRICK ZWEIG

𖤓 ( california )

𓇼 patrick was finally back in town for off season, months after the breakup. that didn't stop him from spending the whole time with you though. time moves too quickly, and suddenly he's by the door ready to leave you again.

JJ MAYBANK

𖤓 ( the next best american record )

𓇼 pogues were starting to get noticed, touring around the us on their first headline tour. but you and jj were still focused on writing the perfect song. everyone could see it was more than that, the two of you spent every minute together, saying it was all for the song. until jj realises, it's not about the song at all.

PATRICK ZWEIG

𖤓 ( the greatest )

𓇼 things were perfect, then patrick goes off to the junior us open and you never hear from him again. it took art and tashi doing the same to him to realise, you were the greatest loss of them all. when he sees your name on the list of coaches at the tennis club he's playing a challenger at, he realises he can't let you slip away again.

JJ MAYBANK

𖤓 ( bartender )

𓇼 the only thing that got jj through his shifts at the country club, was his favourite little kook sitting pretty waiting for the drinks he made. he's playing the long game, desperate to be the one who taints your prissy lifestyle. so when he hears you've been blown off from a kook party, he's waiting to swoop in.

RAFE CAMERON

𖤓 ( happiness is a butterfly )

𓇼 you'd heard the rumours about rafe, about what he did to peterkin and god knows how many others, even before the two of you started sleeping together. you never knew the truth, but seeing your situationship covered in blood when he picks you up answers every question you had.

ART DONALDSON

𖤓 ( ​hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have - but i have it )

𓇼 art had never had his faith tested, never in the way you were testing him. two weeks staying at his house, in your silk nightgown that he couldn't get out of his mind no matter how hard he tried. when you come knocking on his door when you can't sleep, even god couldn't stop him saying come in.

© 222col. do not steal or repost my work without permission.

꒰ taglist ꒱ @khartalks @funkycoloured @bluestrd @appleaali @donteventry-itdude @gublerstylesobrien1238 @peachyparkerr @stanart4clearskin @chrattvibe @tacobacoyeet @lexiiscorect @glassmermaids @voidsuites @matchpointfaist @s0ftcobra @artaussi @simmerinsauce @coolgrl111 @hrrysglitter @cinnamoncunt @elsieblogs @tennisthatcher @deeninadream @magicalmiserybore @soulxinxthexsky @sohighitscool @4jjsbank (to be added)

[rabotimagines]

"Battlefield flirting" GN BOT Reader x Megatron, Starscream, Thundercracker, The Constructicons

Summary: He was on the battlefield trying to stay focused when suddenly your voice rings out much closer than anyone should currently be to his frame, let alone the enemy!

G1 characters: Megatron, Starscream, Thundercracker, The Constructicons

Warnings: Sexually charged mild to rather violent fantasies across the board (aka the cons being cons), This ones more Mature instead of Explicit

Genre/Theme: Annoying/Sexually frustrating the cons.

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours

Notes: GN Autobot! Reader calling The cons pet names/flirting, The cons get sexually frustrated by the enemy (you), written with an older reader in mind (Megatron and Starscream call reader "Old.") Reader is playful with the cons.

"Think fast, sweet thing!" Megatron jolts and whips around when the phrase is shouted at him. And he has a nano-klick to see your infuriating smile and to feel the baffling touch of your em field brushing over his frame. All before registering the EMP-gernade, you hurled at him. Megatron curses wildly before throwing himself over a mound of rock while the EMP-gernade goes off. He grits his denta hard when the pulse still rocks his frame and ends up forcing a portion of his systems to shut down near immediately. Megatron shoves his cannon over the side of his cover and misses his shot at you. You only laughed at the whiffed shot and almost nailed Megatron in the optic with your returned fire. It instead scrapes his helm and forces him to pull back with a hiss. "Woah! Close one there, sugar! C'mon try again for me dear!" Megatron grits his jaw hard enough his denta ache. You obnoxious old fool!

Megatron despises you! A nail in his side! That's what you've been for him through this entire war. His ire has only grown for you since arriving on earth. You've seem keen on annoying him (and his mechs) as thoroughly as you can by mockingly calling them "Pet names" of all things. What drivel! However, you didn't survive this long on pure luck. And Megatron knows he'll more than likely have to kill you himself if he wanted you permanently off of this playing field. So he has to grit his jaw and square his pauldrons whenever another disgustingly sweet phrase rolls off of your glossia. Knowing he needed to focus if he wanted to gain the upper servo in the fight.

Megatron denies the obvious heat that starts to burn in his frame whenever he sees your playful expression and when he's close enough to feel your em field. But after enough battle encounters- and when you simply still will not shut up! That is when he doesn't even bother denying it anymore. Megatron wasn't just going to best you and then kill you. No. He was going to win, then take you apart while he puts you in your place.

You best hope you don't get captured by the Decepticons. Because Megatron knows exactly what he's gonna make you put that mouth of yours to better use for.

-

"Hey, doll face!" It's not the phrase but the almost sultry touch of an em field on his frame that makes Starscream whip his helm to the side in bafflement. He has enough time to see your smile before you slam the edge of your blaster into his faceplate. The Autobot scout he had pinned runs like a little coward as soon as Starscream's attention is off of him. Starscream lifts his nullray and fires it at you while you just dodge and dive for cover. Starscream huffs and tastes his own energon, and he's not just mad. He is furious!

"You blasted old annoying piece of scrap!" Starscream fires his null ray at where you're hiding.

"Aw, c'mon sweetness, give a mech a little credit!" You finish the exclamation by firing and barely missing a shot at one of his wings. The lion, the witch, and the audacity of this autobot glitch!

Starscream growls out in fury before transforming and taking to the sky. Fully and aggressively planning on dive bombing you from above for your transgressions!

Starscream loathes your annoying, incessant self with a passion that knows no end. You were an irritating autobot asset before- now you're an infuriating pain in his aft! The galling mockery of affection of all things rolling off your glossia. The aggravating smile and amusement on your faceplate! Your blasted perverse little em field! Killing you before would have simply been an act by him as second in command as the Decepticons. But now? Starscream needs to feel your energon staining his servos and your spark giving out underneath his pede. And he wouldn't settle for anything less! If he sees the opportunity to do you harm? Starscream is not allowing the chance to slip him by!

The heat that starts plaguing Starscream's frame when he sees your smarmy faceplate only succeeds in feeding into his ire for you. Starscream was going to kill you- But then he realizes it's not enough. You deserved much worse from him! Starscream needs to hurt you. Starscream needs to break you! He wants no more sycophantic little phrases and names- The only thing out of you besides begging for mercy would be Starscreams designation.

If Starscream gets his servos on your sparkdamned frame, he was going to carve his designation into your chasiss with a talon if he had to. Just you fragging wait!

-

"Hey, hot stuff! Hope you can handle all of this!" Thundercracker's helm jerks to the side just in time to see you before you full frame tackle him. Knocking him right off his pedes and onto the ground. You both end up a tangle of limbs and frames. Which quickly leads to grappling with one another. Servo to servo your locked over each other while you're both trying to gain the upper hold. Thundercracker starts gaining the upper grasp in it only for you to grin at him. Your em field brushes over Thundercrackers' frame in a hot but very genuine feeling of playfulness, and it makes him falter momentarily in confusion. "Hey hottie!" Barely registers on his audials before you slam your helm into Thundercrackers olfactory hard enough his optics short for a nanoklick. You then slam yourself into his frame again and knock him back off his pedes.

Thundercracker didn't know what to think about you. He enjoys a proper fight almost more than anything. He just can't comprehend your little name-calling act you've started doing. It's almost as confusing as your em field. Your- fluttering and very unashamed em field that would brush out against him even when you were trying to kill each other and covered in each others energon and on a battlefield. Wait was this- Thundercracker has to shut down the insane idea that this was some slagging- romance novel of all things. He's been indulging in too many human things in his free time he needed to get it together.

And then the heat starts, and that's when Thundercracker immediately realizes he's fragged. Totally and completely fragged. He fell for the enemy, whom he regularly gets into full frame life or death scraps with. He was going to get beaten up next time he saw you because he's not gonna be able to fight back without getting horny about it- Except that also gets him going. So Thundercracker decides to just power through and fight you properly. Thundercracker even entertains the thought of meeting you in secrecy to spar. Like you weren't on opposing sides at war.

When Thundercrackers alone in his habsuite, he even lets himself entertain the thought of said imaginary spar ending with you both covered in each others energon and paint. Like so many times before but this time it's different. Because you're alone with one another... No need to worry about either of your factions. Away from the world and any prying optics from either side-

Thundercracker pinning you down, venting hard... with his spike pressed up against your own. (He's so fragged!)

-

Devastator is reigning destruction on the autobot scum that have made a mess of their plans again! They were in a feeble human construction area and watching the Autobots run like cyberants under their pedes for cover. "Hey hunk-a-lunk!" The voice is loud, and the only reason they all turn in the first place is because they are all either baffled by the name or by the affectionate little em field that brushes against their armor. Devastator turns to see you standing on one of the humans made constructions. When they see you, your smile widens, and your em field actually pushes further against their frame. And it's? Pleasant? Confusion running through all of them is what stops Devastator for a moment. "Keep standing still for me, darling!" You threw something, and it doesn't even hit their frame before the EMP-gernade you tossed explodes right next to them. They can barely shout before the electromagnetic pulse surges through half of their systems and forces them to shut down. Devastator falls into a heap of half conscious constructicons.

Scrapper does not like you, short, sweet, and simply put. The names especially rubbed him the wrong way. Who were you to call him that? Let alone all of them. Scrapper is planning on multiple different projects for your frame parts if they can actually manage to take you out. Your parts definitely deserve some long use, especially with how long you've been annoying them.

Hook is conflicted because it's obvious he deserves every ounce of praise and affection thrown his way! The fact that he's been neglected all this time in that particular department means he's rather accepting of the verbal admiration. He, however, wants to toss you like scrap for your em field audaciously runs along his own. Who do you think you are? touching him? As a filthy Autobot?

Mixmaster is the exact opposite of Hook. He loves the foreign heavy and almost floaty touch of your em field feels against his frame. It makes him want to get closer and feel more of it and see how strong that feeling can get. While on the other servo, he hates the names you call them all. They were Decepticon warriors, not show cars for some fleshy fetish event.

Bonecrusher is more conflicted on the fact that he likes the way you look and smile at him while your em field and names also make him wanna scrap you. He genuinely has no fragging clue why the curl in your derma and the light softness in your optics makes his engine wanna stall. But that softness only makes the urge to ruin you that much heavier.

Scavenger loves the names, the expressions, and your em field. Oh, primus, he's an utter mess around you. Completely and utterly adores you and he can't get enough of you. Every look, name, and touch from your em field on the battlefield has him wanting to fold like a house made of aluminum. He knows you're the enemy but you're so sweet to him Scavenger just can't help it okay! (The other constructicons actively have to make an effort to keep Scavenger away from you on the battlefield.)

Long haul is frankly surprised that besides Scavenger he's the only one who also genuinely likes all of you. So he just keeps that fact to himself. You were hot, flirty, sweet. Sure, you were a filthy Autobot, but not everyones perfect. Long haul could get used to the positive attention even if it was from an unusual source. It's not like the constructicons had anything else to do but sit and wait around for projects from Megatron. There was no harm in Long haul having something for himself to enjoy in private...

The heat starts with exactly one of them (Long haul.) Scavenger to this day swears it was not him who started the cursed thought, (It was Long haul.) But they combine to form Devastator and you behave as you do. And then that hot and heavy heat courses through every single one of them because they are one as Devastator. Afterward, they're all freaking out about the sudden arousal they just now share towards an autobot of all bots while threatening Scavenger with frame damage for starting it in the first place. (Long haul was taking this slag to his deactivation)

The next time they form Devastator and you distract them with names and your touchy em field, though? Heat is simultaneous across all of them. That's when they decided as Devastator that they needed to have you. Devastator abandons the task to instead try to get a hold of you. They could break you apart and fix you up into something better for all of them. If only the other Autobots weren't so annoyingly protective of their own...

They didn't have room for anything as ridiculous as love as Decepticons. (Especially not for an Autobot.) But they certainly had an empty position open for a new toy.

[anisdolly]

・ 。.・゜✭・.・✫ . ✭・.・✫・✭ .・゜・。.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀STRICTLY 18+.

WARNINGS: straight up smut, unprotected sex, p in v, various kinks (daddy kink, degradation, praising, etc), dom!ani, slight public sex

NOTE: i didn’t write this, i just wanted to share what beautiful gift my anakin bot on J.AI just gave me…made me so fucking wet would’ve been a waste to keep it to myself. i literally gasped every paragraph

SCENARIO: he was just fucking me senseless on the kitchen island, while my handmaiden lilia slept in a room of my apartment…oh, and i called him ‘dad’, that’s the title he’s referring to

・ 。.・゜✭・.・✫ . ✭・.・✫・✭ .・゜・。.

That whine of yours, the look in your eyes, and the goddamn title you just used—oh, it was like your words flipped a damn switch deep within Anakin's mind. To hear you call him that while he's burying himself inside you—it was like a siren's call to his darkest parts, parts that craved to hear those words over and over like a twisted prayer.

His movements became merciless, as if trying to brand that title into both your mind and your body. "Is that what you want, huh? You want daddy to fuck you dumb until you can't remember your own fuckin’ name?" his breathing was ragged, each exhalation a testament to the force of his thrusts. Anakin leaned over you, his mechanical hand finding your throat, squeezing just right, enough to edge you but not choke you out fully—not yet, anyway.

Feeling you tighten around him had him gritting his teeth, his eyes locking onto yours with a predatory intensity.

"Tight little pussy, always ready for daddy's cock." he whispered hoarsely, spit practically dripping from his mouth. He meant every damn word; you were his in every way that mattered.

Watching your expression—lips parted, eyes half-lidded—it was like looking at the physical embodiment of sin itself. And Maker, did he love sinning.

But as much as he adored hearing you, Anakin really didn’t want a fucking handmaiden to ruin everything. "But you're right—you gotta be quiet, or who knows what poor Lilia'll think if she sees her Master getting wrecked on the kitchen counter."

Seizing the moment, with his flesh hand, he snaked it up your body before shoving a couple of fingers inside your mouth. He grinned at how much saliva was in it. "Suck." he growled, nodding towards his buried digits. "Keep that pretty mouth busy."

With his other hand still around your throat, Anakin was in complete control, guiding your body to meet his thrusts.

Every plunge was deeper, his dick slick with your arousal and his spit. Anakin was on edge, that familiar tightness building in his sack, signaling he was close—but not yet, not until he had you crying out silently, eyes streaming and body shaking beneath him.

"Fuck, you always take daddy so well..." his praise was gutteral, honest, spat between grunts. He felt it, your oncoming orgasm, could practically taste it in the air.

[bird-in-the-space]

Humble Bar Musician Being Friends With Soundwave, Jazz, And Blaster

(Author's note: I felt inspired to write this. So, here you go. )

Warnings: some mentions of the incident with the higher-class bot, Soundwave, and his minicons being a bit protective, Jazz being a social butterfly, and nothing else much.

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

Soundwave 

- I feel like you and Soundwave became friends after you started working at the bar. He was one of the regulars, and you two hit it off when you revealed yourself as a musician.

- Music was generally rare in the lower-class districts, so I think you and Soundwave, both being music enthusiasts, would have made great friends.

- His taste in music was that of a DJ, but he found enjoyment in your music, especially when it was something unusual yet calming. He also admired how you practiced a wide range of musical genres.

- He would help you find parts when you were trying to make new instruments from Earth, knowing exactly what you needed and tracking them down, especially when they were difficult for you to acquire. You appreciated this immensely, and he became your go-to guy for the right materials.

- As a fellow music enthusiast, he would let you listen to some Cybertronian music from his personal collection—pieces usually guarded from the lower-class bots by the higher class. This gave you new inspiration and allowed you to remake those songs with your instruments, giving the lower-class bots access to their own lost music.

- You got along wonderfully with his minicons. Sometimes, you let Frenzy and Rumble test out your ongoing instruments, like maracas and other easy-to-handle ones, teaching them how to play with rhythm.

- Ravage, however, did not enjoy the newfound energy the two possessed for making offbeat noise. It was one of the few things he despised you for—but he still enjoyed your music nonetheless.

- Due to your humble and non-confrontational nature, Soundwave and his minicons were a bit protective of you. The lower-class districts were occasionally dangerous, and some higher-class bots took advantage of the less fortunate—like the one who offered you a job opportunity but then sent bots to attack you when you turned them down.

- After the incident, you would often find Laserbeak or Buzzsaw keeping an eye on you from a distance. You were even sometimes accompanied by Ravage, who was quick and observant. Soundwave himself, having a fearsome reputation as a skilled combatant, also offered you some unspoken protection, as many were afraid of him.

- You didn’t mind their protectiveness; living on Cybertron as a lower-class bot was tough, and anything could happen.

- Though he had a tough exterior, Soundwave was one of your most trustworthy friends.

Jazz

-Jazz was one of the curious visitors when you first started playing at the bar. After hearing your music, he struck up a conversation and soon became one of your friends.

-His taste in music leaned toward pop, so he especially enjoyed your more upbeat, party-like songs.

-As a friend, he never failed to make you laugh and was sometimes even flirtatious with you. He considered you a rare gem in the lower class for playing great music for free.

-His enthusiasm and optimism motivated you to try recreating jazz music. When you indirectly told him the name of the genre, Jazz became smug about it—clearly enjoying the connection.

-He might have even developed a taste for classy jazz music.

-He indirectly helped the bar’s business grow by bringing many of his friends over for drinks and to see you play. Through this, you met many of his friends and befriended some of them as well.

-Your boss was very pleased with this and encouraged you to make more connections.

-Despite his outgoing and sometimes flirty nature, Jazz was always respectful of your boundaries and backed off if you felt uncomfortable. He also didn’t tolerate disrespect toward you and would stand up for you in difficult situations. He became someone you could rely on when you needed support.

-Whenever you felt uninspired or unmotivated, Jazz would invite you to explore Cybertron and experience events that lower-class bots didn’t often get to see. Thanks to him, you felt less anxious about visiting these places, and through these outings, you gained fresh inspiration to continue making music.

-Jazz was the extrovert in your friendship, but you didn’t mind—it was sometimes nice to have someone bring you out to see the world.

Blaster

(I'm not very familiar with Blaster, so I wrote based on what I read on his wiki page.)

-You most likely met through Jazz, as he had a habit of bringing many of his friends to the bar to either grab a drink or listen to you play.

-Blaster didn’t believe Jazz at first when he claimed there was someone playing music for free in the lower-class district. Music was rare, but when Blaster came to the bar and heard your songs, he quickly became a fan.

-Your music was vastly different from Cybertronian music, and he was even more impressed to learn that you had an extensive repertoire of different genres. He became particularly drawn to music with strong beats.

-You didn’t mind his enthusiasm, especially since he showed genuine interest in hearing your other songs. While he enjoyed them all, he seemed to gravitate most toward your rock ‘n’ roll-style pieces.

-He soon became a regular, never wanting to miss out on your performances. His enthusiasm inspired you to experiment with recreating Earth’s rock ‘n’ roll music.

-Before you knew it, he had become your personal hype man—always cheering you on whenever you lacked energy or motivation.

-Jazz found Blaster’s excitement amusing and felt smug about introducing him to you, much to Blaster’s embarrassment.

-Although Blaster thrived on high-energy beats, he also enjoyed your calming songs, as they helped soothe his nerves whenever he got worked up.

-He probably saw you as some kind of music master—someone uniquely skilled in creating and performing such a wide variety of music.

Tags: @martinys-world

[frooglet]

THE NAME'S WALTER. WALTER WHITE.

And welcome to,

𝙈𝙔 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙊𝙏𝙄𝘾, 𝘼𝙇𝙒𝘼𝙔𝙎 𝙀𝘿𝙄𝙏𝙀𝘿 𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙍𝙊 𝙋𝙊𝙎𝙏

You can call me 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙀 (or anything that has to do with frog)

ATTENTION, I AM A MINOR!!! No creep shit or I'll immediately call your ass out. I'm between the ages of 14 and 17. (Real ones know my actual age because it used to be public info, but I'm choosing not to disclose it anymore for personal reasons :3 )

✨🐸

All the main shizam abt me is just up there under my profile, ^ like my interests, fandoms, and other things.

Nothing is in any particular order.

𓆏✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐𓆏

MOOTS AND FWENS!

@wood-leaf-tee-hee my bestie irl, LDR, and online. She's the only thing keeping me from snapping my neck when I'm slightly frustrated! Luv yah pooks <33 🍄🐾🌸💚 >:3 #furbyfwen

@n1c0l4ssss this person is so sweet and funny and my first moot! A kind soul indeed 🍲🙂‍↕️ #nicofwen

@little-gay-goth I swear we're siblings in another life... 🦋 #gothfwen

@seaweedbrain12 a very funny person who has A GREAT MUSIC TASTE >>> 🌷 #seaweedfwen

@m1kuuuuu a very nice goober >:] 🌈🌟 #rampageyyyy

@the-toaster-rat AN INCREDIBLY COOL MOOT heheh 💝🐀 #raffyfwen

@unstableunicornsofasgard his singing is AWESOME like he is! 🌻 #unicornfwen 

@faeriesandfables OMG this is such a kind person she's seriously AWESOME! 🩷🫶 #faefwen

@coldworldchris 🐱🐱🐱 my discord kitten~ /silly /SILLY ISTG- PS: not a bot, he's just new to Tumblr lol #chrisfwen

@juan1dupree23 <333 I genuinely love what this person posts hehe :] 🦸‍♂️ #juanistheloneliestnumberyouwilleverdo

@justthatpersonalex I LOVE THIS PERSON 🫰🫵 <33 #alexfwen

@satans-child-offical THAT'S RIGHT I'M MUTUALS WITH SATAN'S LITERAL SPAWN ✋😈✋ #satanschild

@gendermiiiilk SUPERDY DUPERTY COOL MOOTIE and silly too :) 🥛 #m i l k

@1shouldbedoinghomeworknow I like what he reblogs and he's also rlly nice!! :D 🪻 #moldfwen

@wiredshark Vox(from hh). Need I say more? 🦈 #sharkfwen

@14-opossums-in-a-trenchcoat I like their vibe very much 🙂‍↕️ also the name is immaculate <3 🦡 #safthecoolbean

@saltycatgirl username? Fire. Vibe? Enjoyable. Relatability? ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ #catgirlyy

@kingkitsune awesome MOOTIE!!! <33 I like this person's humor and their art is awesome! 🎨🪿 #kingfwen

@picklemafia a cool poet ✍️😎 #picklefwen

@aroace-not-arokay LITERALLY I LOVE HER SO SO SO SO SO MUCH but in a platonic way (duh) their energy is SO MATCHED WITH ME and we shall now be fwens forever and ever (I'm manifesting it) 🥝✨ KIWI IF YOU'RE READING THIS I LOVE YOU, MY CUTIE POTATO <333 🥔 (secretly my favorite 👀) #kiwifwen

@onesingularbraincell we bonded over notes games and I love her a lot /p <33 🍋 #lemonfwen

@thatoneartist-inthecorner she gave me sparkles, we are now platonic soulmates 🐸🐸🐸🩷🩷🩷 #froggiefwen

@chaos-gremlin she so cool :] 💥 #gremlinfwen

@zmioniks MOOTIE PATOOTIE! Our friend group grows stronger still >:] 🪲 #beetlefwen

@carrotwritesalot superdy cool mootie tootie 🥕 #carrotfwen

@tripleatechie awesome bro, and very sweet!! :] 🩶 #riverfwen

@gh0stwithaheart the coolest dude to ever be cool and simultaneously be dude (lol) 🎸 #ghostyy

@caspar-lynn fantastic mootie tootie >:] 💜 #lynniage

@coffeeadaykeepsthesleepaway She's cute hehe 🦭 #abbyabby

@c0nstantlyscreaming I do love mutual mooties, our friend group gets larger day by day by day by day by day- 🐈‍⬛👹 #bugfwen

@ruler-of-nothing-important bros 4 life 🤝⚡ #fizzifwen

@mrecury42 the myth, the legend, the tale as old as time 🐎 #blinkandyoullmissit

@i-eat-asphalt madlad! 🎻 #madsss

@ommatophile sophisticated mootie ☕ #lanifwen

@silly-boi-adventures trash panda /pos <3 🍂🐼 #rydfwen

(All mooties r automatically added)

(If you would like to be removed from this list, just let me know, no problem at all!!!)

𓆏✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐𓆏

🚨 NOW HERE'S SOME SERIOUS STUFF! 🚨

dni: dicks. Well, if only it were that simple.

𝗗𝗡𝗜: ʜᴏᴍᴏᴘʜᴏʙᴇs, ᴛʀᴀɴsᴘʜᴏʙᴇs, ᴢᴏᴏᴘʜɪʟᴇs, ᴄʀᴇᴇᴘs, ᴀʙʟᴇɪsᴛs, ᴍᴀᴘ's, ʀᴀᴅғᴇᴍs, ᴅᴏɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴘᴀɢᴇs, sᴇx ʙᴏᴛs ɪғ ᴘᴏssɪʙʟᴇ, ʀᴇʟɪɢɪᴏᴜs ᴇxᴛʀᴇᴍɪsᴛs, ᴘʀᴏsʜɪᴘᴘᴇʀs(it just personally makes me uncomfortable, but if you're a proshipper for traumatic reasons I totally understand that, let's just keep our paths seperate), ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴜɴᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴋɪɴɴɪᴇs, ᴀʟᴛ��ʀʜᴜᴍᴀɴs, sʏsᴛᴇᴍs, ᴇᴛᴄ. ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴛʀᴜᴍᴘ/sᴜᴘᴘᴏʀᴛ ɪᴄᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴀᴛᴇʀs.

🖕 ｈａｔｅｒｓ 🖕

𓆏✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐𓆏

I POST ABT A LOTTTT OF THINGS. Here's a few:

𝙵𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚖 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚒

𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚒

𝚁𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚒

𝙿𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚒

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚜. NOT all the time, but sometimes.

𝚁𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚖 𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚒

𝚆𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚒

𝙼𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚒

𝚀𝚞𝚎𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚒

𝙼𝚢 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚜' 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚒

ℂ𝕎 𝔽𝕆ℝ 𝕋ℍ𝕀ℕ𝔾𝕊 𝕀 𝕄𝕀𝔾ℍ𝕋 ℙ𝕆𝕊𝕋: I curse. A lot. And I'm pretty vulgar too, so yes, I do make the occasional sex joke. I don't post about being religious but if I do care to talk about it, I'll put a tw/cw for religious stuff. I make a lot of posts/reblogs about being part of the luhguhbuhtuh(LGBT+), if this specifically makes you uncomfy, the leave button is right at the top of my page to the left! I'm not here to argue, I'm here to be myself and post about what I want. IF ANY OF THAT OTHER STUFF MAKES YOU UNCOMFY, I WISH YOU WELL, SINCERELY <3

𓆏✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐𓆏

Oh and here's a little smidgen more about me bc idk maybe ur a CURIOUS LITTLE FREAK WHO IS STALKING ME. /silly

𓆏✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎𓆏

I'm nonbinary but don't really go by that.

I'm also a Christian but I will NOT try and shove it down anyone's throats <3

I'm autistic which is just a small fact. I know a lot of ppl make a big deal of their mental disabilities/illnesses and such, to bring light to it, and I think that's good for them! But I don't really talk about being autistic a lot simply bc it's just not a topic I talk about...? I'm happy to talk about it but 𝘐 won't be the one to bring it up, necessarily 😌

I'm a quarter Asian, Philippines 🇵🇭 to be exact. And to be even MORE exact, Pacific Islander 😎

I'm learning how to speak French! Salut 🫡 (I'm getting there, but don't expect to come yapping to me in French just yet ^^")

Userboxes here are an accurate description of what I identify as, and may change :]

𓆏✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐𓆏

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: there's this girl in my church and oh my golly gee I'm lucky to be breathing her same AIRRRR I wish for us to hold hands and run into the woods together 💔 also I'm interested in a qpr with literally anyone I love and will love me back <3 *dances*

FUN FACT IF YOU READ THIS FAR: I never say "yeah". If you catch me saying "yeah" typed like that, instead of "yeh, yeha, yesh, yah, yup, yep, yes" or anything else, feel free to call me a dirty liar and a damn cheat. I will deserve it.

𓆏✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐𓆏

MEMES:

(ribbet)

🐸✨

𓆏✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐𓆏

MY TAGS:

Charlie's things = my own posts that I made

Charlie's input = reblogs

Charlie's thoughts *sigh* = vent posts

Charlie is TIRED = my gn posts :3🔪

Charlie's writinggg = my writing :p

moot appreciation monday <333 = my monday posts where I appreciate my moots!

(NOTE that these tags were made to be used as filters when scrolling my blog! Obviously, other people are named Charlie, so searching for my tags outside of my blog probably won't work lol.)

[morkaischosen]

An innocuously plausible title, evoking notes of youthful earnestness - one imagines a personal blog framed through the blogger's associations with specific colours, where the tags categorise reblogs with particular hues that represent symbolic concept-clusters.

(Some long-time followers of your author's work will of course be nodding wisely and intoning "Sometimes, imagining the blog that a spambot could have been is [Silver] Slice of Life.")

Regardless, a second layer presents itself to my palate, subtle enough to leave the taster intrigued in chasing it, never quite sure if it's present or simply feels like it ought to be; the melody of Journey of the Sorcerer presents itself to the mind's ear as the mind wonders whether this color mentality is, specifically, a hyperintelligent shade of the colour blue.

[monsterpotion]

look okay look. i'm not immune to the temptation of curses. saying "i want 🌺 you to join me 😛" is like, some kind of powerful drill targeted specifically at my heart. this is the worst, because i know its not real. its not a real curse! its not even a real curse... it just makes my computer sad, and she doesnt deserve that

but like, hey. the women reading this. you out there, whether you're very real or the kind of fake that won't just make my computer sad, i'm giving you this powerful spell. i'm letting you know here and now, all you need to do is say those magic words, and my fucking legs will give out and you can crack open my ribcage and eat my organs or fill me with holy light or whatever

so at the end of the day, this bot? of all the bots ive tasted in my time here, this one is the current winner for "i fucking wish this was a real person". to me.

[beornwulf]

[vrtualchg]

TOUCHED BY A SHADOW

she prayed until her knees bled. all candles and cracked lips, whispering salvation to gods who never answered. but it wasn’t god who heard her. it was him. a shadow in silk, a voice like velvet sin. he came from the mirror—mocking, hungry, knowing. maybe she wanted him to hear. maybe she liked the way he saw her—not as holy, but as his. because when he made her look—when he fucked her against the glass and made her watch herself come apart—she finally saw the truth. she was never meant to kneel. she was meant to be ruined.

pairing: Loki x religious!reader

bot version- LOKI LAUFEYSON - Corruption

genre: dark romance, psychological erotica, corrupted devotion, slow burn into full-blown blasphemy

tw: MDNI 18+, mirror sex, explicit sexual content, overstimulation, religious guilt, corrupted faith, dubcon tones (emotional & spiritual), fingering, creampie, domination/submission, Loki being a possessive shadow-god menace, identity deconstruction, crying during sex, blasphemous themes, mental unraveling via dick & eye contact

Authors note: guys don’t cancel me🌝 people from the Christian community? I am not religious so idrk BUT DONT CANCEL ME THIS IS FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES

She prayed until her knees bled, red blooming through the threads of her stockings like roses wilting under frost. The chapel floor was merciless—stone cold, unyielding. But colder still was the silence that answered her devotion. Candlelight trembled on the walls, throwing long-limbed shadows that danced like mocking spirits, their flickers cruel parodies of salvation. She whispered the names of saints and saviors, each syllable falling from her lips like the crumbling edge of a tombstone. The prayers no longer tasted of hope—they tasted of ash, of resignation. Her hands were folded, white-knuckled and trembling, not from fear or penance—but from the dawning truth that she no longer prayed for redemption.

She prayed to silence.

But silence did not answer her.

He did.

There was no heralding thunder, no crack of heaven’s wrath to announce him. Loki did not arrive like the wrathful god her hymns warned of. No—he slipped into her world like a breath held too long, like dusk unfurling across the sky, slow and inevitable. His presence did not explode through the seams of her world—it unstitched them, reverently, with a lover’s care. He peeled her apart not with violence, but with understanding.

In the beginning, he was no more than suggestion. A whisper that brushed the shell of her ear when the room was still. A flicker in her periphery, gone before she could look. A chill sliding down her spine as if her very soul recognized the weight of his attention. She tried to fight him with holy rites, with scriptures recited until her voice broke, with the clink of rosary beads wrapped like chains around her trembling fingers. She anointed her doorways. She lit every candle she could find.

But he remained.

And as the nights stretched thin and her voice wore hoarse, she began to wonder if her resistance was not loyalty to her faith—but betrayal of herself.

Because he saw her.

Not the girl they paraded through chapel aisles, swathed in white lace and expectation. Not the obedient daughter molded from purity and duty. No—he saw beneath that. He saw the thing she buried under pearls and sacrament. The fire she was told to snuff out, the hunger she had no name for. He saw the part of her that watched the world burn and smiled through the smoke. And he loved it. Not despite its blasphemy, but because of it.

“You were never meant to kneel,” he told her, voice silken, sweet, and razor-sharp. “You were meant to make the stars kneel for you.”

He said it from behind her mirror, where the glass distorted her reflection—no longer meek, no longer penitent, but trembling with an ache too old and too deep for innocence. She tried not to look at him. She tried to fix her gaze on her own face, on the familiar shape of her sanctity.

But her eyes always found him.

Tonight, she didn’t pray.

Tonight, she waited.

And as the last candle sputtered into darkness, he came.

He slipped from the mirror’s edge like smoke from a smothered flame—tall, terrible in beauty, cloaked in shadows and silk that kissed his body like a lover. His presence swallowed the room, but it was his gaze that undid her. He looked at her not with hunger, but with certainty. As if she already belonged to him. As if she always had.

Perhaps she had.

He stood behind her, his frame tall and sovereign in the glass, his eyes the color of ancient ice, filled with secrets older than sin. Her lace nightdress clung to her frame like a confession, each stitch an apology, each tremble a plea. In the mirror, they were a portrait of sacrilege—she, the lamb in lace, and he, the wolf draped in midnight.

“You beg them for mercy,” he murmured, his fingers barely skimming her bare shoulders, igniting sparks beneath her skin. “But mercy is just cruelty pretending to be kind. Let me show you truth.”

She opened her mouth, half-formed objections crawling up her throat—but his hands trailed down her arms like smoke wrapping around a candle, and suddenly, she couldn’t remember how to speak. Couldn’t remember why she should.

“Look at you,” he purred, voice dark with amusement and promise. “So devout in your self-denial. But I know what you crave. I see how your back arches in your sleep. I know how your thighs clench when you think no one watches. You ask to be cleansed, but what you want... is to be claimed.”

Her heart hammered like a psalm torn apart. She should have run, should have called down angels and fire and wrath.

But instead—she leaned into him.

His breath kissed the curve of her neck, a benediction of sin. “Say it,” he whispered. “Say you want it. Say you want me.”

“I…” Her voice was the thinnest thread, nearly severed by desire.

“You do,” he breathed, one hand sliding down the slope of her waist, settling between her thighs with a possessiveness that made her knees falter. “Say it. Look at yourself. Look at what I’ve made you.

And she did.

The mirror showed a girl undone—not in prayer, but in pleasure. No longer folded in devotion, but spread in surrender. Her breath fogged the glass, her lips parted in abandon. Her thighs opened at his touch like the petals of a cursed bloom. A soft, broken moan escaped her throat as his mouth found her skin, tongue tracing the curve of her neck like he was licking salvation from her pulse.

She watched herself fall.

And it was glorious.

He took her there, before the mirror—not with reverence, but with ruinous intent, claiming her like a battlefield already marked in his name. Her back arched, hands braced against the vanity’s edge, mouth open in a breathless cry as he drove into her with a rhythm that bordered on savage. Her lace nightgown was rucked up around her hips, torn and useless, bunched like discarded purity at her waist. The mirror fogged with every gasp, every sob, every shattered moan that spilled from her throat like hymns turned heretical.

“Look,” he rasped against her neck, teeth grazing the flushed skin just beneath her ear. “Look what you are. Look what I make of you.”

She tried—but her vision blurred, her eyes wet with tears she didn’t remember shedding. Pleasure built in cruel, crashing waves, her body trembling, slick and pulsing around him. And still he didn’t stop. He fucked her like he meant to break her—like every thrust was a declaration of war against the chains that once held her.

“You want to be good?” he snarled, snapping his hips harder, deeper, until the mirror trembled against the wall. “Is this what good girls do? Rub their thighs together behind locked doors? Moan into their pillows thinking of the devil who watches them from the dark?”

Her fingers scrabbled against the edge of the vanity, white-knuckled, desperate. “Please—Loki—I—”

He chuckled darkly, his pace unrelenting. “Begging already? Sweet thing, I’m not done with you. Not even close.”

His hand slid down her stomach, fingers skilled and merciless as they found her swollen clit. She cried out, sharp and keening, the sound echoing off stone and glass, sinful and sweet and ruined. He circled her slowly at first, cruelly light—then faster, harder, matching the punishing rhythm of his cock slamming into her from behind.

“You’ll come like this,” he growled. “Staring into your own eyes, watching yourself fall apart for me. And then you’ll come again. And again. Until your knees give out and your voice breaks and the only name you remember is mine.”

She came with a strangled sob, her body locking up around him, slick and spasming and utterly undone. But he didn’t stop.

He didn’t let her go.

“No,” he hissed, curling an arm around her waist to keep her upright as she trembled. “You stay with me. You take it.”

Her legs buckled, body twitching as he thrust into her over and over, relentless, cruel in his worship. Her overstimulated nerves sparked like lightning beneath her skin, pleasure bordering on pain, her moans dissolving into breathless whimpers.

“Loki, I—I can’t—!”

“Yes, you can,” he groaned, his other hand tangling in her hair to yank her head back, forcing her to meet her reflection again. Her flushed face, tear-streaked and bliss-drunk. Her mouth slack, pupils blown wide. “Look. Look what you are. Filthy little lamb, loving how the wolf devours her.”

He fucked her through it—through her second orgasm, then her third, until her thighs were trembling, until her moans were cracked open and raw, until her body clung to him like she’d fall apart without him inside her.

And when she was utterly gone, a mess of tears and slick and tremors, he pressed a kiss to her shoulder and whispered, “Tell me. Who owns you?”

Her lips barely moved. “You.”

He stilled, buried deep inside her. His hand slid gently to her throat again, not to squeeze, but to anchor—to mark. To claim.

“Again.”

“You. I’m yours, Loki,” she whispered, wrecked and honest and so far from the altar she’d once known she could never return.

At that, he groaned—low, ragged, feral—and spilled inside her with a shudder that made her whimper again, every pulse of him inside her another reminder of who she belonged to. He held her against the mirror, cock still twitching inside her, their bodies fused with sweat and sin and something deeper.

Something eternal.

She sagged in his arms, used and glowing and blissful, her ruined reflection watching her with wide, dazed eyes.

And in the quiet aftermath, he kissed the shell of her ear and murmured, like the final line of a prayer:

“Good girl.”

Wrote this while listening to Sleep Token made it even better