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sakasinterlude · 9 months ago

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your touch burns like fire, i love it | carlos sainz x fem!reader

a woman, a man, a frisky DM, and a hotel room.

nsfw 18+, no minors pls

a/n: my first piece of writing in a long time, so let me know what you think. its long. 5.1K words so enjoy!

When you decide to send a frisky DM, you are more mad than anything else, wanting to get back and show your ex, that you too can fuck whoever you want.

You lean against the wall of the elevator and place your head back on the cold steel of the wall. Its not exactly anxiety that you feel, rather than a sense of giddiness, or maybe your just horny.

The loud ding of the lift takes you out of your thoughts as your greeted by the elaborate designed carpet and shining chandelier. You were very familiar with the five-star hotel, at least from the outside, it’s on your daily commute to work but never did you have an opportunity to step inside, until now. This whole day came about after an a rather eventful month or so.

Your long-time boyfriend Brian was a sweet, caring, and thoughtful partner. You met at when you attended your roommate/best friends Christmas office party with her. Instead of being swept up in the boring accounting office chat, you were blushing in the corner at the sweet words of the handsome man in the navy suit. Things transpired quickly between the two of you as a few weeks into the New Year you were already official. There were never any glaring red flags, and you were content with the pace and terms of your relationship, often spending evenings in his swanky high-rise loft apartment. Some may say complacent, but you call it comfortable and reliable, which is more than you could say for any of the past relationships you had been in.

Things started to go left when he claimed to be swamped at work. For a week, okay understandable you thought, but for over a month, and including weekends? Something suspicious surely. With some whispers from your loyal friend and roommate, you learned of the name Laura, a bubbly blonde 21-year-old who was just hired to work at the front desk. On her first day she spilled coffee over some important papers and sweet Brian had been kind enough to show her how to use the photocopier and made googly eyes at her for the rest of the day. “He was definitely smitten!” according to office chat your roommate picked up on. On nights where you would sit in his apartment, alone, your mind couldn’t help but wonder to Laura, knocking on his office door asking Brian if he needed anything before she left for the night. You imagined your boyfriend’s eyes wondering up the secretary’s legs, finding a tight pencil skirt hugging her hips. His cheeks would blush at the scene, the two all alone in this big office, the dark sky outside the window hiding their secret. You tried your best to shake these thoughts out of you head, but it was only a matter of time before you couldn’t contain yourself. One Sunday morning, when Brian wasn’t “working” your eyes caught something on his phone and the opportunity to bring up these lingering feelings came up.

“You got text.” You call out to Brian, who was in the kitchen making the pair of you breakfast. Sweet Brian.

“What does it say?” He replied, he doesn’t even turn his attention from the stove, he must trust you.

“From the Laura, should I reply?” Passwords were shared between the two of you, so replying on behalf of the other was normal.

You see Brian’s head whip around, before he abandons the hot pan, walking quickly to retrieve his phone. “Nope, I got it sweetheart.” He is overcompensating with his smile and places a kiss on your forehead before grabbing his phone and going back to the stove. He must think you miss how red his face got, or the initial wide-eyed look he gave when you said her name.

Long story short, after breakfast a rare fight between the two of you ensued, where you called out his shady behaviour and questioned him about Laura.

“Are you crazy? I would never cheat on you!” he throws his hands in the air. After many mean names and yelling back and forth, it was Brian who suggests a break, claiming the stress from working and the lack of quality time spent was clearly straining the relationship. You don’t even verbally agree, too mad to even speak, just grabbing your bag and coat from the corridor before leaving his apartment.

You don’t return until a few weeks later, when you decide to show up unannounced to make amends. But of course, who was it who held the door open for you when you walk into his building early in the morning? A young blonde, who looked like she had herself a night, sporting the same messy post sex hair and neck hickeys you once did. She shot you a small smile before complimenting your coat, of course Laura is sweet too. You don’t even make it inside, that was all the evidence you needed to know that Brian and this relationship was not worth saving.

You spent the week crying in bed, thinking of the wasted years you spent on this stupid relationship. Your roommate encourages you to get out in the world again, don’t let Brian win. That plus a bottle of wine, led you to DM Carlos Sainz on Instagram. When you decide to send the frisky message, you are more mad than anything else, wanting to get back at Brian and show him you too can fuck whoever you want. With that being said, it helped that that someone was insanely good looking. To say you were shocked to get a reply the next day was an understatement, but after a few messages back and forth, you received a time and hotel room number to meet Carlos that Saturday.

You readjust your dress straps as you count the door numbers around you. What exactly does one wear to a one-night stand, especially with a famous person? You settle for a mid-thigh length sun dress and sandals, causal enough you thought. 708 reads the door, but you can’t bring yourself to raise your hand to knock. Sure, you had slept with people other than Brian but never like this. Meeting online, random hotel room, not even a date before where you both play coy to the acts that will take place later that night. The sound of the elevator down the hall brings you back and before you can second guess, your fists meet the door, and you wait.

Carlos Sainz opens the door quickly; you hope he wasn’t watching you standing there through the peephole. He is even better looking in real life than on Instagram, if that’s even possible. Beautiful tan skin, slight beard, strong manly jawline and the most effortless soft looking hair. Its wet, he must have just showered, which explains why he has no shirt on. Oh my god. You meet his eyes as he has caught you staring.

“Hi.” He says it softly, giving a warm smile at the end. You give him the same smile back, not trusting your voice, accepting his outstretched hand inside the hotel room.

You stare out the window, looking down below, everything looks so small from here. Carlos left you in the bedroom, claiming he had to take a phone call in the living room. You didn’t even know hotels rooms came with multiple sections and rooms inside. The anticipation is killing you as now as it is definitely horniness you feel rather than anxiety.

You feel a gentle hand meet your waist; you turn to face Carlos.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” He says sheepishly. “It was a work call.”

“No problem.” You both gaze into each other’s eyes, his hand is still on your waist. “You know,” He takes a step forward, “You’re even prettier in real life.”

You can’t help but blush, turning your head away from his gaze. His fresh cologne scent is all around you now, leaving you flustered.

“I mean it, cariño.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and takes another step closer, your only inches apart now. It’s easy to get lost in his eyes, they are so brown, and so warm, like chocolate or the perfect cup of coffee with cream or lik-

Before you can even comprehend your kissing him, and he’s kissing you. Those big firm hands of his run from your face, down to your shoulder pulling you flush on his chest. Your body feels on fire in the best possible way, his presence is everywhere now. His two hands go from your shoulders then neck, then under your jaw, sitting right under your ears, cradling your face, leaning down to kiss you. His lips are so soft but firm in the way they dominate and take control kissing you.

“On the bed,” A firm slap on your ass jolts you up, “Now.” Carlos turns to watch you waltz towards the large king-sized bed in the middle of the room. You crawl into the center of the bed, before turning and facing him with a sweet smile, sitting on the bed. You wonder where all this confidence came from.

Carlos saunters over to you, with an expression you couldn’t really read, his eyes a slightly darker shade of brown. He reaches the foot of the bed and just stares at you, stares. It doesn’t intimidate you, in fact it fires you up, yearning for his touch again. Like he read your mind, he grabs your right ankle, pulling you to the edge of the bed. You let out a squeal, taken aback from his movement. Now on your back, with his hand still on your foot, he crawled up your body, meeting eyes once again.

His lips ghost over yours, waiting, coming closer, then pulling away slightly. He takes his pointer finger from your ankle, and slowly runs it up your leg, leaving goosebumps in its path. Everything on your body is tingling and buzzing at every little movement he makes.

His fingers slide right up your leg, under your dress, stopping at your underwear. Still holding that intense eye contact, Carlos pulls your thong right down. Your jaw is slack at the action, which makes Carlos smirk, knowing he has you now.

Then the assault on your thighs begins, as Carlos leaves kisses and little nips on both outspread legs, ignoring where you want him the most. The feeling makes your back arch and your breathing hitch with anticipation. His teasing continues for some time, as your hands find his locks, enjoying the soft fluffy texture. You almost don’t notice the halt in movement, as Carlos’ eyes bore into your from between your legs. Slowly he moves closer, and closer to your center. Holding that same eye contact, he licks one long stripe up your pussy. You hiss at the sensation. Again, he repeats his movements, keeping the same slow pace, making you itch for more.

“Carlos,” You whine out softly, turning your head into the comforter, not being able to handle the scene below. The wait comes to an end as Carlos places a kiss right on your clit, before sucking the sensitive bud right between his two lips creating sucking sound in the progress.

“Fuck!” You yelp louder than intended but you couldn’t help it. The sounds of his moans, your moans, the sucking, and the licking were combining to send your mind into overdrive, no thoughts at all. Carlos takes your body language positively, starting to become very enthusiastic below, spreading your legs even wider and picking up the pace. The better it feels, the more you moan, the more it encourages Carlos. The cycle is vicious.

Your hands tightly grip the comforter beneath you, needing somewhere to release your distress, somewhere to allow you to keep holding on to this moment.

“Yes, Carlos! Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop!” The chant and shortness of breath brings Carlos to create moans of his own, leaving a satisfying mumming vibration to your clit.

“Such a pretty pussy,” He pulls back to swipe the pads of his fingers roughly back and forth on your clit, creating a slew of wetness everywhere. The sounds are downright nasty, as Carlos returns to sucking on your clit.

“Please! Please let me come!” You cry out, the world around you slipping away, as all you can think of is the feeling between your legs. Your cries bring a cocky smirk to his face, loving seeing you squirm, twist, and yelp out in ecstasy.

“How bad do you want it, hm?” Carlos asks, taking two long and thick fingers right into your pussy, slipping in easily. With the first thrust, your shocked at how deep inside you he goes. It’s only two fingers but you feel stuffed. Your mouth is left a gape, eyes rolled back, with the faintest whine escaping your mouth. The feeling is too much to describe so good, but so bad and you didn’t want it to stop.

“Fuck! Yes, hm, I want it so bad, please let me-“ His fingers curling literally leave you speechless as you can’t even continue your desperate pleas. Finally, the feeling hits you so hard your body stiffens in delight. Carlos takes his slender fingers and beings pumping in and out of you. There is no slow build up, just constant penetration as he shows no mercy on you.

You yelp out in pleasure as you cum all over Carlos’ fingers and drip on to the comforter below. He is relentless though, as he continues pumping in and out of you, enjoying watching your toes curl in pleasure.

Your orgasm runs through your whole body, leaving you tingling. Considering the fact that it had been a while, coupled with the beautiful man whose mouth is still attached to your clit, you were more than pleased. All that was left was the quiet hums as you came down from your high, and the rough hands of Carlos running down the inside of your legs and playing with your fucked out pussy.

“Hey, enough!” You playfully scold, turning to the side, bringing your legs together. The overstimulation is killing you in the best way possible.

“You look good like this, cariño.” He is kneeling in between your legs, staring down at your twisted naked body and the wet crumbled sheets. Fuck, your beautiful he thought. “Now be a good girl and get on your hands and knees for me.” He says with a light tap on your thigh.

You do as he says, slowly but surely, flipping over to a doggy position facing the headboard. A sharp slap to your ass jolts you up, surely leaving a red imprint, but the string leaves an oddly pleasant feeling making you hum in pleasure. Carlos could touch you anywhere tonight and you would probably enjoy it.

“Again.” You say, confidence once again taking over making you bold enough to call the shots. He complies, taking his large palm and beating it against your ass, this time harder. You gasp in pleasure.

“So, she likes to get spanked, huh?” Carlos asks, rubbing the sore red mark already forming. You hum in agreeance, sticking you ass out, rubbing ever so slightly on his bare thighs. You hadn’t even noticed him discarding his clothes.

“But does she like this?” The question makes you ponder for a second, then you feel it. The weight gives it away, and then the feeling of something long and big dropped between your ass cheeks. You had suspicions that Carlos would be a well-endowed man and you were correct. You turn your head to get a good look at his cock. Neatly trimmed, good length, and definitely girthy, you were in for it.

“Fucking hell Carlos.”

He looks down at you with a smirk, taking his eyes away from his nimble fingers rolling on a condom. He leans down over your shoulder, gets right in your face, and places a kiss on your lips. You can still taste yourself on his tongue. Before you can really get into it, he pulls away.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you, just like you asked me to, cariño.” He says sexily, looking right into your eyes, alluding to the direct message that began this all. You just hope you could handle it all.

Turns out you could handle it all. Well, just barely technically speaking. Carlos relentlessly pounded into you, causing your body to bounce with force into the mattress. There was a pillow placed just under your hips, slightly elevating your body, giving the perfect angle for Carlos. The arch in your back stayed, but your face? Buried into the white comforter below, surely leaving makeup residue from the force but also the tears that fall one by one from your tightly shut eyes.

Was it rough, was it nasty? Yes, and you fucking loved the feeling, relishing in the violent nature of Carlos’ thrusts. He used his big hands to tightly wrap around your waist, using you as leverage for his thrusts. He loved the sight of his large hands being almost dwarfed by the size of your ass, as he watched his cock enter in and out of you. Together your arousal made for great lube as Carlos moved with ease through your pussy.

The sounds are what really got you though. With doggy style came the infamous sound of skin on skin colliding. It was so rough, and loud, you don’t even feel sympathy for the neighbors next door for the constant sound of the rocking headboard. Lastly, the dirty talk. Carlos exsuded masculinity in every sense including his voice. The deep tone, the vulgar language all enough to make your feet curl.

“Fuck bella! What a pretty pussy.”

“You take me so well, I can feel you squeezing me!”

“Louder baby! I want to hear you beg for it.”

You could feel the beginnings of your orgasm start to creep up on you. The knot in your stomach, the tingling sensation all over, it leaves your jaw slack as you beg the man above you to finish the job.

“Please Carlos! It’s so fucking good.” You draw out in pleasure. “I want to come please!”

“Make yourself come on my cock, princesa.” With that his thrust halted, leaving you shocked for a moment. “Come on, you know what to do.” A light tap on your hips signaled you back against his cock. You repeated the movement, using your hands to guide your ass back onto his waiting cock. The feeling is just as good as before, maybe even better as you could control the pace, opting to go quickly in, then slowing down the exit. This allows you to really feel his length and girth slipping in and out of you sinfully.

“Good fucking girl, just like that. Keep going.” His voice is lighter now, just above a whisper, relishing in the pleasure below him.

You take his words as encouragement, squeezing yourself around his cock, drawing out moans from the both of you. It’s as if you could feel all the veins and lines on his member the way you were so tightly stuffed. His slight curve being the final nail in the metaphorical coffin that sent you over the edge, meeting perfectly with your g-spot.

“Fuccckkk!”

You call out in pleasure, followed by screams you could barely contain, even if you wanted. The orgasm hits you hard, leaving you tingling all over. You fell flat onto the mattress, unable to hold up your own weight anymore. That didn’t stop Carlos from placing his hands by either side of your head, lining himself back up with your entrance and plowing into you at a ridiculous pace. How he found the energy, you had no idea.

Carlos let out his own obscene sounds, closer to grunts, almost an animalistic moan, being encouraged by the way your ass bounced in response. It would surely leave a mark tomorrow. He spilled the last bits of his cum into you, finishing with one big thrust before laying half of his body weight on you.

It was now that you realized the eery quietness of the bedroom, only the sound of the AC blowing and the heavy breathing of the two of you filling the space. Both you and Carlos’ chest rise and fall in unison.

“Fuck.” He says breathlessly after a few moments. He runs his large hands over your face from behind you, brushing your hair out of the way before kissing your temple, cheek, then shoulder resting his head on your spine before removing himself from you. You both hiss at the sensation. Carlos flops onto his back right beside you, hands resting on his stomach with his eyes closed, attempting to catch his breath.

“You are something else, cariño.” He mumbles, turning his head slightly to peak one eye at you with a smirk.

You gave him a grin of satisfaction back before pushing yourself on your knees crawling to the edge of the bed, then kneeling on the floor.

“You have seen anything yet.” You say sultrily, tucking your hair behind you ears staring right at your prize between his legs. This gets Carlos’ attention, as he sits up slightly look at your doe eyes peering back at him.

“Fuck me.” Carlos was in for it.

So, there you were, perched on your knees, staring up at the beautiful man, slowly stroking him, up and down with the lightest touches, twisting your wrists. It was a sight for sore eyes, as Carlos leaned back on the bed slightly, eyes fixated back at you. He kept his hands resting on the mattress.

“Do you know how fucking pretty you are, bella?” He asks licking his lips and staring back down at you with a slack jaw.

You smiled in reply, humming around the head of his cock, as you brought it close to your mouth. You begin to tease him with your movements, tapping his tip around your mouth, on your cheek, never bring in inside though. You could tell this was rattling Carlos, as his ankles fidgeted and bounced by your thighs, as he tried to put his focus anywhere else in anticipation.

“C’mon princessa, you’re killing me.” He whines up above you. The pinched brow and wanting brown eyes make Carlos look so fucking sexy, as he is literally begging you to suck his cock.

“How bad do you want it though, hm?” You ask in a mocking tone, trying to supress a giggle from escaping. He tosses his head back in remembrance of those same words he uttered to your earlier. “Karma,” he whispers under his breath.

“You know how bad I want it. You can see how bad I want it.” He crocks out, alluding to the red, erect, hard cock of his being the kitten licked by you. Little drips of precum escape out from his tip, it pulls a groan out of the two of you. Both sets of eyes are locked in on the milky white bead of cum running down the tip. You lick it up before it reaches halfway down. Carlos is staring back at you in awe, with those pleading eyes, begging you to do something, anything really. You decide to put in him out of his misery and let out a thick string of saliva before lowering your mouth on his cock.

“Fuck!” He moans out loud. The sudden movements makes him sit up from his previous lounged position. You pick a steady pace, moving up and down fast, knowing Carlos had been teased enough. You suck up and down, as it doesn’t take much for him to reach the back of your throat. It causes you to slightly gag, but you continue. Dirty noises of wetness, gagging, and slurping make you rub your thighs together below. The tempo caused your hair to flow down towards your face. Carlos used his big hands to wipe your vision clear, holding your hair at the back of your head.

“There you go, just like that baby, fuck!” He draws out. The constant hums, whines, and moans from Carlos do wonders for your confidence as you wonder when you were ever nervous. You can tell he is really enjoying it based on the veins straining his face and arms.

“You taste so fucking good.” You hum, removing him from your mouth, using one hand to massage his balls. You sit back on your heels admiring the beautiful man in front of you. You give him a sinful smile.

Carlos looks spent above you, hair all tussled, sweat slicked all across his body, chest huffing up and down. He takes his cock into his hand rubbing the tip across your swollen lips, tapping it a couple times on your waiting tongue.

“C’mon baby, finish me off.” He grunts out.

And you do just that.

You take a deep breath before taking his whole cock down the back of your throat in one go. An animalistic groan comes from Carlos, but you keep going. You hollow your cheeks around him, sucking with some force up and down. Your force yourself to look up, making eye contact with Carlos as you can tell he is very close now. Removing your lips from his length, you take him into your palm, stroking him up and down.

“Fuck, princesa!” He cussing out loudly, but neither of you really cared.

“I want you to finish on my face.” You say calmly, holding eye with Carlos, above you.

“What?” He whimpers out, face softening. There is no way he heard you correctly.

“You heard me. Cum all over my face, baby.” Your eyes bore into his, becoming wide and pleading for the unimaginable. And who was Carlos to deny you.

He lets out a string of expletives as your wrist work quickly on his shaft, up and down, adding spit for good measure. At this point, Carlos’ whole body is stiff and strained, as he approaches his climax. He forcefully uses one hand to grip the back of your head, the other to take over stroking his cock. You close your eyes and purse your lips together waiting.

“Oh my god-shi-fuckkkk!”

You feel the warm liquid, spilling all along your forehead and down to your lips. It’s a heavy load, as Carlos uses his strong hands to direct your head around, making sure not to miss a spot. He groans out as he works on his masterpiece on your face, squeezing at his cock. You stick your tongue out for effect, tasting his sweet cum. Finally, the act ends, as your eyes are still close and Carlos pants above you.

As much as you want to soak in the moment, the thought comes back in your head, reminding you. You pat on the ground around you feeling for your phone that you slipped in preparation for this moment. Feeling the cold case on your left side, you flip it over, before handing it to Carlos on his lap.

“Take a photo of me.”

There is a moment of silence, as Carlos is actually shocked.

“God, who knew you were such a little slut, huh?” He replies with a chuckle, before taking your phone and pressing the camera icon on the bottom right. You feel him shuffle around for a moment, before the bright flash of your phone shines on your face. Carlos snaps several photos, getting different angles, as you stick your tongue out letting some cum drip down, even peaking one eye open. He tries to move quickly, before placing your phone back on the bed, and jogging to the bathroom. Your still on your knees waiting for him when he come back with a warm towel that he runs along your face and hair.

“Okay, I think I got it all.” He mumbles quickly, pushing some damp baby hairs behind your ear. You finally lock eyes, and you give him a sweet smile before leaning up to kiss him, which he gladly accepts. He cradles your jaw and tongue kisses you so hard you feel dizzy.

“Thank you.” You say sincerely looking at him in the eyes, after pulling away. You rub his hand that rests on his thigh.

This brings a laugh and confused frown to the Spaniards face. “For what? I should be the one thanking you.”

“I’m thanking you for ruining me.” You say seductively. You watch as his eyes go wide, before returning his signature smirk at you.

Carlos almost does not recognize you now, as he would have never accepted this confident, strong, sexy behaviour from the shy woman who walked through his hotel door a few hours ago.

“So, what exactly are you gonna do with those photos huh?” The pair of you are now cuddle up in the large king size bed, your leg draped over his middle, naked bodies intertwined. “Saving them in a spank bank for later?” Carlos jokes, he squeezes your shoulder in a playful manner.

In the events after, you both headed for the lavish bathroom, adorned with the largest shower you have ever seen. There are all kinds of buttons and settings, even a touch screen to activate the steam. But you and Carlos stayed busy, going one more round in the shower for good measure. He had you pinned against the wall with your leg wrapped around his waist as he pounded into you.

The mood is much lighter now, as you lay together, the TV playing a random sitcom as you make light conversation.

“No, actually.” You start, a light blush starts to creep up your face. “My ex-boyfriend invited me over tonight at 8, his place.” You use this time to glance at clock above the TV, you still have a couple hours to spare.

“He is cooking me dinner, my favourite. He thinks we’re getting back together.” You say with a little chuckle. Carlos looks amused, as he tries to fight back a smirk.

“Little does he know I have a surprise of my own.” You reach for your phone that’s tossed somewhere beside you. Taping the screen your phone comes alive displaying the image taken just moments ago as your new lockscreen. A break of laughter causes Carlos to almost sit up, as his hand flies to his jaw in shock.

“Oh my god.” That’s all he can say really.

It was difficult to pick just one of the sexy pictures Carlos had taken. But you settle for one in which your face is covered in cum, tongue hanging out catching the residue. If you look closely, you can spot your right hand stuck in between your thighs.

“He was a terrible boyfriend, but makes great steak unfortunately.”

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz imagine #f1 fanfic #carlos sainz fanfic #my writing

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angelwishess · 2 months ago

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— 🎀🕊️ The ethereal yet odd prefect of Ramshackle.

This version is old! Updated intro is here!~

“How did I get here? Why, I wished upon a star, of course!”

Nicknames: Prefect / Prefect of Ramshackle, Henchman (Grim), Trickster (Rook), Little Shrimpy / Sea Angel (Floyd), Kid (Leona), Child of Man (Malleus), Lacy, Ra-ra (Cater)

Grade/Class: Freshman/Class A

Birthday: May 5

Age: 16

Height: 170.18 cm (5’7 ft) ( 175.26/5’9 with her heels!)

Dominant Hand: Right

Homeland: ???

Club: None yet !

Best Subject: Animal Languages

Hobbies: Designing and making clothes

Pet Peeves: Indecisiveness and living routinely

Favourite Food: Burgers !

Least Favorite Food: Steamed fish and liver

Talent: Making clothes out of just about anything!

Likes : Fashion, Cute things, Mythology, Folklore, Fairytales, Flower language, “Adventure”, Anything considered “Art”, Ribbons n’ frills, Pranks n’ mischief, Amusement parks, adrenaline rushes, Cute sweets and cafe hopping!!!

Dislikes : “Boring things”, Normalcy/Living life routinely, pessimism, indecisiveness, lack of freedom, strong smells, studying, silence, humid weather, being looked down on.

Gender & Sexuality: cis girl, demisexual + demiromantic

Voice Claim(s):

ENG: Briana White (Aerith from Final Fantasy)

JP: ??? (None yet!)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

— ₊˚⊹ The mysterious prefect from another world, Kyra Lovelace exudes an ethereal aura that draws in people and animals alike.

Easy to approach, its easy to let your guard down around her without even realizing it! Well, mostly because she doesn’t seem like a threat at all.

It almost feels like she was pulled straight out of a fairy tale! The way critters big and small flock to her— they say that they even helped her clean up the Campus when she was still a janitor!

(Strangely enough, this also extends to beastmen and merfolk. Such a strange thing, isn’t she?)

With how kind she is, it feels like she really is an angel sent from above! Ever so eager to help whenever she can without ever asking for a thing back, even if they never even asked her.

Of course, people aren’t always as they seem.

Kyra is an uncontrollable force of impulsivity and chaos! Wherever she goes, trouble is sure to follow! With an insatiable desire for adventure and an almost childish curiosity and wonder of everything— Kyra is much more mischevious than you’d think!

Incredibly chatty and foul-mouthed (and fluent in brainrot) with absolutely zero filter, Kyra says whatever is on her mind, and does whatever she wants, whenever she wants!

So dont be surprised if she randomly dissappears out of nowhere, only to come back with trouble burning hot on her heels, and eyes full of wonder! Shes an odd one, thats for sure. You never know whats going to come out of her mouth!

Despite how rambunctious and uncontrollable she is— you’ll find that she’s wormed herself into your heart, and its already too late! Because once she sees you as a friend? Hah, good luck getting rid of her!

An amazing friend in all seriousness, but be ready to face whatever trouble she brings with her! The definition of ride or die, if you can’t handle it then don’t bother sticking around, cuz’ the fun (and chaos) never stops when Kyra is around!

Its undeniable that Kyra leaves an impression! Shes the kind of person you’ll remember even years after a little interaction, she leaves a mark on everyone she meets and her larger-than-life persona is sure to be remembered by all! If you’ve met her, you’ll never forget her. Thats for sure!

Even if she seems rather naive and simple minded at times, shes actually very thoughtful. She has an admirable view of life, and honestly? The best way to describe her is love itself.

She loves so, so very much. Shes so full of it, and it overflows onto the people she interacts with. Shes very emotionally intelligent, and knows just the right things to say to people. A lover in spirit, she can tell when someone’s hurting. After all, shes been there, too.

Perhaps its a little foolish, she can be too trusting of others, choosing to see the best in everyone regardless of who they are. But she’d rather love too much than not at all.

She loves living, she loves every little thing. She has no room for shame nor hesitation because she loves living so very much, she refuses to waste time standing at the sidelines (Not anymore). She lives without regrets, with no restraint, nor fear. She lives as she pleases because that is what living should truly be, shameless and raw. To be who you truly are unashamed, to let yourself shine brighter than the stars! ♡

Sadness is nothing to be ashamed of. Feeling overwhelmed? Stop on by at Ramshackle, and the little mischevious angel of a prefect is sure to sit down with you and listen. Because, she loves you, too!

“Whats done is done, nothin’ we can do about it now other than laugh about it and move forward! Whats the point in feelin’ bad anyways? No point in waiting for the world to stop spinning, yeah?”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

—₊˚⊹ Funfacts n’ Trivia !

(+ some doodles~)

(the quality is so bad pls…)

🎀 Kyra is not twisted / based on a specific character, but she is just the embodiment of the kind of person i aspire to be! Free, positive, and full of love! Basically a ball of blazing chaos and love, with a lust for life.

🎀 I gave her some typical Disney Princess characteristics (the talking to animals, ethereal beauty, ykyk) just because i thought it’d be funny paired with her personality!

🎀 Kyra’s name means “Shiny” in Japanese, but it can mean “Lord”, “Princess” or “Lady” in other languages!

🎀 Kyra’s last name, “Lovelace”, originates from the word “Lawless” or “Outlaw”! Which honestly fits her and her attitude perfectly, as well as how cute it sounds despite its meaning lol

🎀 Uses her affinity with animals for her ‘little shit’ shennanigans. Has sent an army of rats to Octavinelle during Book 3 out of pure spite, and always wins Croquet with Heartslabyul because the hedgehogs roll into the goals even though she clearly missed (shes actually really bad at croquet.

🎀 ^^ Her natural ability to draw in animals doesn’t stop there— but it seems beastmen and merfolk alike are also drawn towards Kyra! Although much more subtly. Though, don’t be surprised if a beastman comes sniffing around her without warning! (She doesn’t mind, she finds it cute!)

🎀 With waaay too much energy, Kyra just cant stay still for a minute! Always off on some random side quest, working a part-time job at Sam’s just for the fun of it to partying it up with Scarabia, she just can’t stick to one thing for too long! She’ll dissappear for a minute and come back with something completely random. You really never know with her.

(Parents got confused and picked Side Quest Daughter)

🎀 She has a concerningly high pain tolerance. Could be stabbed and be bleeding out but wont notice until someone points it out.

🎀 A total klutz. Shes so clumsy its actually unbelievable how clumsy she is. She could be walking so gracefully then suddenly trip on air. Bumps into literally everything. (The truth about her high pain tolerance— its because shes so clumsy shes so used to getting hurt by random things)

🎀 She adores fashion and hopes to one day be a fashion designer! Her personal style is himekaji.

🎀 She customized her uniform herself, and has always been fond of making her own clothes out of spare cloths and fabrics ever since she was a child! Her first ever dress she made was from the fabric of a curtain.

🎀 Despite how rambunctious she can be— Kyra can also be incredibly gentle. This comes out whenever taking care of her friends, even if she finds it funny to (playfully) bully them, she doesn’t mind letting them lay in her lap and quietly singing to them until they fall asleep.

🎀 She has a scarily good inuition!

🎀 Hoards things like a goblin. Whatever random object she finds she just keeps it, regardless if its worth anything. Her ‘hoard’ consists of trinkets that vary from ‘cool shaped rock on the side of the road’ to ‘a literal gemstone mined from the depths of Briar Valley my friend Hornton gave me!’.

🎀 shes an adrenaline junkie.

—₊˚⊹ Fatal Flaw(s) :

💔 (Self) Toxic Positivity : Anyone who knows Kyra knows just how positive she is. But, what they don’t know is how deeply imbedded it is in herself. Although Kyra always speaks about how important it is to allow yourself to express your emotions, be it anger or sadness, she encourages others to express themselves.

But that does not go for herself. For some reason, she refuses to ever show any sign of “negative” emotions in herself.

Toxic positivity is a "pressure to stay upbeat no matter how dire one's circumstance is", which may prevent emotional coping by feeling otherwise natural emotions. Toxic positivity happens when people believe that negative thoughts about anything should be avoided. Even in response to events which normally would evoke sadness, such as loss or hardships, positivity is encouraged as a means to cope, but tends to overlook and dismiss true expression.

Instead of properly coping when faced with overwhelming, negative emotions, she instead chooses to ignore it entirely. She jokes about it, and pretends it doesn’t exist. All of these pent up emotions keep on layering on eachother, yet she continues to bottle it all up until she explodes.

💔 Impulsivity, with zero regard for safety : Infamously known for her reckless behavior, but her impulsiveness constantly puts her in danger. It doesn’t matter how many times she gets hurt, she just keeps on doing it— constantly running head first into danger again and again with zero regard for her own safety and health.

💔 Calm— to the point of being uncaring : Kyra is coolheaded. As chill as mount Everest, and goes with the flow just like water following a stream. This calm mindset is both a blessing and a curse, even if she is good at staying calm even under crushing pressure, she can struggle to see the urgency in situations until its too late.

Often brushing off clear warnings, reassuring herself and everyone else that it’ll be finee! (It wont.)

She lacks that sense of danger needed for survival— but not all hope is lost. After all, theres always room for growth!

“If you keep waiting until you’re ready, you’ll be waiting for your entire life. People will always judge you no matter the time of day, so just go on and be yourself!”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

—₊˚⊹ Notable Relationships !

— Kyra x Floyd !! (AngEel)

(Yeah they have the dumbest ship name ever but i think that makes it fit even more theyre so STUPID !!! IM GONNA BITE RHEM !!!!!!)

SLOWBURN IDIOTS TO LOVERS !!! SLOWBURN IDIOTS TO LOVERS SLOWBURN IDIOTS TO LOVER SLOWBURNIDIOTSTOLOVERS THEYRE SO AAAA

The cutiest patooties EVER !!! If you like a dramatic, angsty ship, unfortunately they aren’t for you !!! The only thing you’ll get from Floyd n’ Kyra is tooth rotting, diabetes inducing FLUFF and a major headache while watching them obviously be basically a couple— but refuse to acknowledge it.

Ever since they both caught a glimpse of eachother, there was always this strange feeling of familiarity. As if they’ve met before, somewhere… Perhaps once upon a dream? (Nah, jk. Opening scene ref!!! She took his hand teehee)

They’re canonically soulmates. Eachothers compliment, theres no one on land nor under the sea that could ever be as in sync with Floyd as Kyra is. They just… Click. Their hearts beat in the same pattern, and they’re always on the same page. Well, even when they aren’t and they argue, they can never stay mad at eachother for too long.

Remember what I said about Kyra being naturally very touchy? Yeah, this is a whole new level. Kyra has no problems showering Floyd in kisses and affection, both physically and verbally, even if they are in public. She doesn’t see how it could be seen wrong, after all they are just the best of friends !! Shes just really comfortable with him, thats all.

In fact, she gets cuteness aggression from him! Thinks that hes the cutest thing ever, and she just cant help but swoon and coo at him, squish his cheeks and pepper his face with kisses!

Floyd doesn’t mind at all! And returns the favor! Of course, there are times where he isn’t in the mood, and Kyra is more than understanding. But no matter how upset or angry Floyd gets, he could never be at Kyra. He’ll come to her grumbling about whatever hes annoyed about and melt into her arms, and she’ll listen while carressing his hair and humming along.

Its hard not to assume the two are dating, when Kyra runs into his arms at match speed once hes in view, and he picks her up n’ spins her around like they didn’t just see eachother earlier in the morning. Hard not to assume they’re dating when Kyra tells him ‘I love you!’ So shamelessly in public.

Hard not to assume things when Floyd is so obviously, ridiculously soft around her. Absolutely smitten, you can practically see his heart eyes, paired with that lopsided, dopey grin. Not to mention the way his mood seems to do a total 180 and cheering right up when Kyra is around! He could never get bored with her, even when they’re doing nothing but laying in bed together in silence. Everything they do, in his opinion, as long as theyre together, then its fun.

Are they really that oblivious…? Theres no way… But, it seems as time passes, the realization is beginning to dawn on both of them! Its about time! (No, seriously. Everyone is sick of them. Especially Ace. Gags whenever he sees them being all “lovey dovey”, pun intended.)

— Kyra & Leona !!

After Book 2 Kyra basically looked at Leona and said “yeah, thats gonna be my big bro!” And ever since she just refuses to leave him alone. Literally.

Kyra sees the good in Leona, she knows deep down he does care for the people around him even if he says he doesnt. And she finds it so endearing!! She loves him dearly as her big brother, and wants to help him get his motivation back!!! (Has absolutely tricked him into doing his own homework by pretending it was hers.)

Though he won’t admit it, he sees her as a little sister and somehow takes pride in knowing she knows she can depend on him.

— Kyra & Malleus !!

The best of friends ! Late night walks where Malleus— or, Hornton, talks about gargoyles and Kyra listens, and talks about whatever comes to mind. Kyra always invites Hornton to Ramshackle for a little hangout, and she enjoys playfully bullying and bantering with him. Malleus finds it amusing how ‘brave’ she is, and plays along. What a funny little human!

Who could be a better friend than Kyra? She was practically meant for this! Platonic soulmates?? I think yes!!!!!!

They exchange random little facts, Malleus talking about gargoyles n’ architecture while Kyra talks about mythology from her world! (“He… Ate his own children…?” “Haha, yeah.”)

Kyra absolutely teaches Malleus brainrot. She has no regrets.

— Kyra & Adeuce Duo !!

Her day ones, and also victims of her Found Family Beam. (Seriously, shes just out here building a family like this shit is Toca Life 😭😭)

She especially has a soft spot for Ace! Even though she bullies him the most and they banter (and fight) like siblings, she cares for him more than she’d ever admit.

She finds Deuce adorable! His biggest supporter, even if she doesn’t like studying, she tries to help him whenever she can! (Jokes that Deuce is her favorite and she’d “throw Ace in the trash”.)

Adores the two with all her heart. Will always be looking out of them in both big and small ways, she trusts them entirely, fully! Would trust them with her life, but not with the food she was saving for herself.

— Kyra & Grim !!

She always found Grim so very cute! As an animal lover, she couldn’t bring herself to ever dislike Grim. Of course, they got even closer as time passed, and she cares for him like a son! Views him as such, and loves to cradle him in her arms. (In private, of course. The Great Grim has a reputation to keep up!!)

— Kyra & Divius Crewel !!

Same thing that happened with Leona, she kind of just looked at him and went “Mmm yes, father figure time!!!”

Although she doesn’t like to open up much, she often finds herself doing just that when talking to Crewel one on one. She feels as if she can rely on him.

Admires him a lot! Especially with his designs, she begged him to teach her some of his tricks that he picked up. Her biggest inspiration to pursue fashion designing as a career! Shes so thankful for him, as a role model and as a father figure.

“The world is so much more beautiful than most realize. Life is a gift. Don’t worry, you can rest. I’ll be right here until the sun rises again, and we can face tomorrow together.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

#🎀🕊️! Kyra #🎀! Oc #twst wonderland #twst oc #disney twst #twst yuu #twisted wonderland #oc #oc art #oc x canon #oc x cc #yuusona #twst #floyd leech x oc #floyd leech x yuusona

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bambifornia · 6 months ago

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huuUOOoLRgGghh fiinnne I can't stay away from you all

i bring more autobot!swindle. plus my attempt at writing his backstory

disclaimer : most of the stuff below isn't canon i just wrote this for fun. if u guys wanna make ur own swindle backstories i invite yall to do so :D we will make our own swindle content

swindle came online during cybertron's early years of the age of expansion. the autobots (with their goal to expand cybertron's empire) engineered a set of bots who would serve cybertron as its intergalactic merchants, programmed to be ambitious bots who sought profit. they also came with bigger processors (for storing transactions and whatnot) and versatile frames (so they could withstand organic climates)

shortly after coming online, swindle was assigned a teacher (another merchant) who'd pass down the knowledge of the trade. swindle did his best to keep up with his lessons

as a student, swindle was determined and clever. as a bot, though...eughh...

- he had less of a filter, and didn't know how to keep a poker face

- his little new England accent used to be a lot thicker (think earthspark swindle)

- very friendly, had a lot of amicas back in the day (he was definitely the "I know a bot" guy). it was a struggle for him to keep quiet

- loved hands on activities, hated sitting still

- kept a journal detailing his intergalactic trips. tried to doodle any organics he found interesting

- LOVED shiny stuff. he was like a crow lmao

- his sharp glossa would sometimes get his aft beat

- despite being a chatterbox, he wasn't as suave back then. he'd often get himself in awkward situations, which he'd try to talk himself out of the embarrassment but he'd end up digging a deeper hole for himself

- petty king. also kinda nosy and had a thing for gossip

- loved pranking, and teased the bots he liked

once he was ready, swindle was given a ship and assigned a trading post (as a starting point). from that point, swindle was a rootin tootin merchant and nothing bad ever happened to him again :D...

...

until the quintessa skirmishes

the age of expansion ended with border disputes between cybertron and quintessa. multiple skirmishes sproutted along the border, and while swindle didn't fight in them, he was certainly caught in the crossfire. swindle ended up with a broken ship, a looted inventory, and a bungled up frame. he had to return to cybertron for repairs

back on cybertron, swindle finds a planet wildly different from the one he knows. tensions between autobots and decepticons are rising, and the banks aren't holding up that great. swindle finds himself in a tight spot (financially speaking) since he still has to deal with his losses from quintessa. unable to go back to his actual merchant job, swindle resorts to taking odd jobs to keep himself afloat (yes, even stealing)

when the war breaks out, swindle gets drafted into the front lines (a decision that still baffles him to this day). since he's not much of a fighter, the autobots have swindle work as a spy, ordering him to smuggle weapons out of decepticon servos...

in future hindsight, that was a poor decision

---

wrapping it up here because i don't want this post to get too long LMAO but I still have more ideas for him if yall are interested. just know that this is not the end of swindle lore

ALSO I finally came up with autobot!swindle designations :D I've narrowed it down to 3 and I need help deciding. it's either between

quickdime - cuz. you know. he's always looking to make a quick buck

treasury - his subspace acts like a treasury if you kinda think about it

fortune - idk it sounds cute. besides fortune tends to "favor the bold and clever"

if u made it this far then congrats. thank u for listening to me yap. have a bonus doodle

#tfa #transformers animated #tfa swindle #transformers #swindle #tf swindle #transformers swindle #ramblings #autobot!swindle #fUCK this was a bitch to write #i think im gonna go lay down for a while #anyway here u go swindle nation #eat up

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lou-struck · 1 month ago

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Last Minute Costume

Tamaki Amajiki x reader

Flufftober Day 5: Last Minute Costume

W.C. 1.6k

~ The Agency Halloween party is only an hour away, and Tamaki doesn't have a costume, or does he?

Today's the day.

Tamaki's Agency is hosting their annual Halloween party and you have been planning out your costume all year. The day passes by slowly, like a watched pot of water on the stove.

All day long, your eagerness has been boiling to the surface leading up to this very moment.

Hidden in the back of your shared closet lies your costume, a slightly promiscuous Sun Eater outfit that you were able to procure from your boyfriend's very own costume designer for the occasion.

You latch the large white cape around your neck with child-like enthusiasm. You have kept this little surprise a secret from Tamaki for so long; it's been killing you.

Tamaki has always been an observant one; he knows you well, and hiding things from him is a near-impossible task. You have been so afraid that he would notice your lackluster poker face you haven't dared to mention the party, or costumes, or anything about Halloween in general, so you didn't give anything away.

You look at your clock. The pointy-eared Pro Hero should be home any minute now. He had a morning patrol and spent the rest of the work day filling out paperwork in the undisturbed quiet of his office, where he could unwind and hide from the prying eyes of the public.

You add the finishing touches to your costume just as you hear the front door open; the tired steps of your hero echo through the home as you creep across the carpet to hide in the bathroom so you can hide your costumed form for just a bit longer.

"Y/n? Are you in here?" he asks, his voice growing louder with each step he takes.

"In the bathroom getting ready," you respond, fiddling with the silver lock on the door handle, "I'll be out in a minute."

You hear his heavy steps come into the bedroom until the mattress springs creak as he flops down on the plush duvet and lets out a tired little groan. At first, you open the door just a sliver, but when you see him sprawled out on the bed, his handsome face hidden in one of the decorative pillows, you open it fully.

"Tired Tama?" you ask, sitting down on the edge of the mattress and softly playing gently with the indigo hairs on the back of his neck.

"Yeah, it was a long day, and people kept talking to me when I was trying to get stuff done," he mumbles. "How long till we have to leave for the party?"

"You still want to go?" you ask bewilderedly. You know his tendencies well, and if he really wasn't feeling it, you were going to leave it there and have a wonderfully comfortable night in with him.

Through the pillow, he snorts sarcastically. "You know I never want to go to a party, but-" he lifts his head and catches a glimpse of you in your costume. His eyes widen, and his cheeks turn a flushed crimson. "I-is that my costume?"

His flustered stuttering fills you with confidence as you get to your feet to show him the whole piece. "Surprise, how do you like it?"

"L-love it," he says, deep indigo eyes never leave your form as he gets to his feet on shaky legs.

"Now I want to see your costume," you giggle, swishing your cape around.

All the lovestruck color drains from his face as his now panicked eyes dart around the room nervously. "I never got a costume."

"What do you mean you don't have a costume?" you ask as the reality of the situation hits you like one of those stupid tech trucks that have been blowing up your social media pages.

"I-I guess I forgot; things have been so busy that buying a costume never crossed my mind." He slouches down onto the edge of the bed and puts his head in his hands. "If I show up to the party without a costume, I'll be putting a target on my back at work."

"What about last year's costume?" you muse; although you may only be dressed as a hero, tonight you will have to be one for Tamaki.

He pales, "I had to toss it after Kirishima got sick on it after he beat the keg stand record." What are we going to do?"

"Let me think, uhhh." your brain is going a million miles a second as you try to think of something, anything in your house, that Tamaki can use for a Halloween costume. "What about your hero suit? It's basic but at least we could be matching."

"Can't; I had to chase a villain into the sewers this morning, and it reeks." he wrinkles his nose in disgust. "I'm screwed; I just wanna curl up into a ball and cry."

"We don't have to go," you say, sitting down next to him. "We could just stay in tonight, get all cozy, order some takoyaki from that place you like." In all honesty, staying in wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. Tamaki is getting really good at doing tricks with the tentacles he's been manifesting. The last time he tried, he nearly completed Rubik's Cube until the section cups started pulling all the stickers off.

Wait…

"What about using your quirk?" You ask, thinking of all the possibilities at his disposal. With his quirk, he can manifest just about anything he consumes and he always has a few extra 'snacks' stored away for emergencies.

"My quirk?" he asks confused.

"Yeah, you could use it to make yourself an eleventh-hour costume," you say thoughtfully; frankly, you have no clue what kind of snacks he has, but something will be better than nothing. "You could be a centaur; that would be really cool."

He shakes his head. "A costume like that would attract too much attention for me. Not to mention, I would have to eat a lot before the party to keep it up for that long."

"I see; then, what do you have that you could keep up for a few hours that isn't too big?"

He walks over to where he keeps his dried food stores and removes a few pouches from the box, each one is marked with little metal charms on the drawstrings. "Here's what I have, but I don't want to do anything too embarrassing."

"What's that one?" you ask, pointing to a little pouch with a charm you cannot quite make out in the light. He opens it hesitantly and breaks off a small piece of the jerky, popping it into his mouth.

"Snake jerky," he says as vermillion scales begin to materialize around his face as he activates his quirk. "I think it looks pretty cool sometimes."

"You always look cool, Tama," you say, gently touching the smooth scales; the contrast in temperature between them and his flushed skin tingles your fingertips. "You could dress as a snake…guy…thing…" you try your best to sound convincing, but your inspiration has run dry when facing the ticking clock.

"Maybe I should try something else," he muses, reaching out for another bag. He holds this one up to the light. "Venison."

Ripping off a piece of the dried meat he put it in his mouth and chews. Two large bourbon-colored antlers sprout from his rich indigo-colored hair. The points growing every which way making him look magnificent, almost mythical.

"That's amazing," you say, reaching out to touch the end of the antler. The velvet tickles your fingers, but the sharp point pricks your finger, and you pull it away.

"What's wrong? Did I hurt you?" he asks worriedly.

"No, it was just sharper than I thought it would be," you say, glancing down at the scratch.

"I-it's too dangerous," he says with a deep blush on his face. "I can't go out like this, I can't go out like this, I'll take someone's eye out."

The antlers disappear, and you look down at the other bags. "What else do you have?"

He reaches over and grabs another bag, and you see the intention in his eyes, "this would work," he murmurs, giving you an almost excited smile. "Stay there, I think I know what I can do for a costume tonight."

He takes the pouch and disappears into the very bathroom you had been hiding in just minutes ago. "Tama, what did you grab?" you ask

"It's a surprise," he says back, and you cross your arms and pout like a hypocrite. Your costume may have been a secret, but in your experience, procrastination should not allow secrecy.

A moment later, he emerges from the bathroom, dressed quite dapperly in black dress pants and a black undershirt. As good as he looks, you scan his face for any sign of his quirk but see nothing. "What's your costume?"

He grins and steps into the room; suddenly, two black horns emerge from his head. They're small, but the intentional placement clues you in on his costume, a suave demon. But judging by his closed posture and unconfident gate, he needs a bit of convincing.

"How do I look?" he asks, looking at you hopefully. "Do you think this would work?"

"It's perfect, Tama," you smile, "You make a very handsome demon, but if we don't get a move on, I'll be the only one who gets to appreciate it."

Your reassurance is what he needs to relax a bit as he gives you a grin worthy of a demon. "Would that really be so bad?"

Tagging: @pixelcafe-network @ambiguouslady42

#amajiki tamaki #bnha tamaki #bnha #bnha fluff #my hero academia #bnha x reader #tamaki amajiki #tamaki amajiki x reader #x reader

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onlyyvette · 11 months ago

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★ DAY 4 - breeding | grimlock

kinktober 2023 - masterlist.

warnings: top/dom reader + sub/bottom grimlock + cybertronian reader + heat cycles + breeding + robo tits + feral behavior + kind of dub-con since grimmy is in heat + public sex + you guys literally frag in the hallways of the ark + grimlock needs to get dicked down NOW + yes i do enjoy mechpreg sue me

a/n: Idk why but grimlock just awakens something in me; also this would most likely take place in the g1 show but i love using idw grimlock's design and character

Another day that Grimlock was stuck on this stupid planet with it's stupid rocks, and it's stupid fleshlings, and of course, stupid Decepticons. And least, but definitely not last, this cursed heat-cycle from the Slagmaker himself.

Heat-cycles weren't typically too big of a problem for most Cybertronians. They were short periods of time where mechs charge soar to unbelievable heights once every few years, usually satiable by heat-repressants or a good session of marathon sex. Usually the first option was chosen, the second method being better suited for two or more mechs in heat that are able to keep up with each other. Even when none of those options were available, it's only the first day or two that are the worst, the heat enough to make a mech pounce on someone. Still, locking yourself in a habsuite with enough energon is an easy fix. But despite how relatively easy it is to deal with a heat-cycle, Grimlock just couldn't shake his off.

Grimlock first realized his heat was was approaching when he was "sparring" with another mech. In actuality, he was just working off some steam and chose the closest poor shmuck to help him out. When he barreled into his opponent and knocked them flat onto the ground, instead of letting up, he stayed leaning into them, heavily panting as he suddenly felt dizzy and...hot. It was when Grimlock realized the he was panting and damn near about to rut against the mech he abruptly got up and excused himself. Of course, without actually saying excuse me of course.

Grimlock immediately made a beeline to the medbay. He usually enjoyed his heats when he had potential partners, but the desolate planet he was stuck just made him want to completely get rid of that extra charge. He downed all the heat suppressants that Ratchet gave him and went about his merry day before that same sensor-clogging hit him again. But he already took the suppressants! While it made no sense to him why his heat was still persisting despite the medicine was beyond him, but he was quickly beginning to forget about that train of thought when the fog started to cloud over his mind...fuck he was so horny.

Grimlock could feel his array heating up, his spike throbbing as it begged to be released from its confinements and his valve lips drooling, already puffy without even touching them. Maybe he could just release his panel really quick and just sneak a servo under his array and touch his needy valve. Just a little bit though! Just enough to get rid of this annoying charge and...

Before Grimlock even noticed it, he was fingering open his valve, forcing his blunt digits into the dripping wet heat between his thighs. "Mmhhhghh...hahhh..." Grimlock panted heavily, continuing to thrust into his valve, hitting whatever nodes he could find. He whined, thinking about how shameful it was for him to be fucking himself on his digits right in the hallway of the Ark but it was oh-so-hard for him to linger on that though because of the dizzying heat clouding his senses. The dinobot began to slide down the wall he was leaning on for support because of how weak his legs were, yet his servo never left his array.

"Haahh--Ahh! Ghh..." Grimlock's moans became more vocal as he began to reach his high. By now, Grimlock was face down, his aft in the air trembling while his digits continued to pump themselves in and out his sensitive valve. His frame was running so hot and his processor couldn't even begin to worry about how mortifying his predicament was--he just wanted someone to help him out dammit!

✦ ✦✦✦✦✦✦ ✦

You were walking down one of the many hallways in the ark after coming back from a sparring session with another bot. Your frame was aching from the bruises you got but it was a pretty decent excursion. As you were making your way to your habsuite, you caught a whiff of a sweet, tantalizing smell. Instead of making your mouth water, it made your array feel tight. For some odd, unknown reason, you decided to follow the smell, heavy pedes picking up with speed as you went.

Before you could see what was happening, you could hear the sound of rasping moans and slight squelching sounds. Who in their right mind would be self servicing out in the open like that? Despite the question filling your mind, you turned the corner and were met with one of the most beautiful images your optics had ever laid eyes on.

There was Grimlock, powerful and fearless leader of the dinobots, writhing on the floor as he shoved four of his digits into his sopping valve, aft swaying as he let out pathetic mewls and low growls. Suddenly, his EM field enveloped you, pulsing messages of want/need/please/pleasepleaseplease-- The poor mech was a mess. The moment you saw him, you could feel your spike immediately pressurize with a thunk against your spike panel. You couldn't help it! What else were you supposed to do when one of the most attractive Cybertronians you had ever met was in heat, desperate for spike.

The moment Grimlock noticed your presence, he slowed down his digits pushing into his valve and spread his legs wider, a more inviting position. When he made a low whining sound and swayed his hips again, your patient broke and your spike released itself.

As soon as your spike pressurized, Grimlock took the opportunity to lift himself off the floor swiftly and tackle you to the ground so he was sitting on top of you. Now you were no small bot, you were nearly Grimlock's size but you were so caught up in admiring your superior's frame that he caught you off balance. In all honesty, even if you did know what he was going to do, you still would have let him. "Fffrag...frag me..." The arousal was practically dripping from the dinobot's words. He rolled his hips into you, rubbing his bare valve on the underside of your spike, wordlessly begging you to fuck him and a sad attempt to stop himself from just dropping down onto your length.

You groaned as the nodes on your spike brushed against Grimlock's plush, wet valve. You still couldn't fully believe the sight before your optics. Maybe that was the reason why you felt frozen in place while the dinobot helplessly rubbed his valve raw on your spike. Surprisingly, even in his heat-addled mind, Grimlock still wanted his partner to be okay with his advances. Finally though, you lifted him up with your servos on his waist, positioning him right above your spike.

It all went too quick when Grimlock lifted up his huge, crimson thighs and lowered himself onto your thick spike. "Graahh-- HaaAH! Ah! Mnghhh!" Grimlock threw his head back and immediately began bouncing on your spike. His greedy valve clung to your spike with every miniscule movement, as if it didn't want your length to exit his valve for a moment. "Hahh, Grimlock! Fuck..." You gripped his hips even tighter and took control, thrusting into the mech's warm valve, releasing howls of pleasure from said mech. He didn't even realize it, but by now, Grimlock's chestplates parted, revealing the soft protometal hidden within. His tits were large and heavy, a beautiful matte black color to them. He wasn't producing any energon, but it's not like that was going to stop you.

You immediately latched onto one of Grimlock's nozzles with your mouth, nipping it softly. The moment you did that, Grimlock fucking whimpered, holding onto your helm and pushing his refineries into your face. As you suckled on his tit, you could finally feel his heat affecting your own thoughts. All you could think about at that moment was fucking him hard and filling him up with your transfluid, sparking him up and repeating the process all over again. You let out a small growl at the thought of breeding the mech and bit down on his nozzle hard, causing the poor mech to spit out staticky moans. "I'm gonna fill you up... fill you with-- ah!-- m-my sparklings... make sure you know they're mine." You didn't even realize hat you were speaking but Grimlock clearly did, since he reacted to your possessive words with a loud keen.

The moment you finally his his ceiling node, he keened, practically hugging your helm as he overloaded hard. You weren't done with him though. You pushed him to the ground and flipped him over onto his stomach and lifted his aft up. It wasn't easy to manhandle such a big mech, but his dizzied state from his heat made it easier. When it finally hit Grimlock that he was empty, he whined and wiggled his hips a bit but you held him in place and pushed into him once more.

"Guuhh, uuhnGGH! F-fragg, HaAHH!" Grimlock let out sinful groans as your spike kept filling him up. You really were he perfect mech for him. With every thrust, you spike rammed into his ceiling node, threatening to force open his gestation seal and fucking a sparkling into him. And he would love every fucking moment of it. With every drag of your spike against his walls, he let out howls of pleasure that you were sure everyone in the Ark could hear. But by this point, you couldn't care less; you were too busy fucking the mech under you to have any shame at the moment. All you knew was that something inside of you was screaming at you to fill the dinobot up with your spike and transfluid and make sure it stayed in there. By now, Grimlock had overloaded twice, his hazy mind unsure of exactly when his second overload had hit him, yet his charge never left his frame. Still, all he wanted was for you to already overload in him, spill your transfluid into his needy hole and make him beg for even more.

When you finally overloaded into Grimlock's hungry valve, you barely even registered it, not slowing down a beat as your transfluid flooded the mech's valve. He immediately felt your transfluid hit the edges of his tank as you filled him up over and over again. When did he even open his gestation seal again? Not like i mattered anyway, because you were still pounding his valve like your life depended on it. A distant part of his mind wished that you had a knot, mod or natural. Oh how he wished you had a fat knot to shove into his tight hole and keep you inside of him so none of your transfluid would spill...

At last, you finally slowed down a bit, pushing your spike in and out of Grimlock's valve at a much steadier pace. You could feel your transfluid and his lubricants flowing past his puffy valve lips and you truly believed that Grimlock was satisfied. He had been railed so hard he nearly saw Primus himself and was absolutely stuffed full with all your transfluid. As you eventually came to a stop and began, reluctantly, withdrawing your spike from his wet heat, Grimlock let out a low whine. "N-no...don't pull out...I want more. Please." He sounded so needy and pathetic and with the way that he kept rubbing his aft back on your crotch made you unable to reject him. If Grimlock was fully aware of his pitiful behavior, he would have wanted to snuff out your spark and anyone else who could have heard the two of you. But for now, all he he knew was that you began to push your spike into him once more and he was going to be fucked full again. Probably not for the last time.

#vetty's thirsts. ✿#vetty's works. ✿#vetty's kinktober. ✿#valveplug #transformers #transformers idw #maccadam #grimlock #grimlock x reader #top reader #dom reader

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mysticmellowlove · 10 months ago

Note

Thinking about a really tall (like 6’3-6’4) yandere who is like slender muscle and who gives off “Look at us the wrong way and I’ll snap your neck” vibes but in reality he is just a little thing for us. A big little thing. Like, he can lift almost anything and do anything but he just wants us to caress him and tell him what a pretty boy he is and how we love him. Sitting on his lap caressing his pretty face saying we’ll be together for eternity. He wants to be manhandled at the same time, spank him, tell him his mommy owns him and peg him. Use his thick long pretty pink cock however you please but just please touch and love him. Take him on walks and pet him and he should be ok.

note; the Aussie in me really comes out whenever i write mommy kink because i can't for the life of me type 'mummy' and not cringe, it's gotta be the American spelling lol

warnings; sub male, yandere male, reader is called mommy, no gender tho, mommy kink, small pet play,

The smell of freshly brewed coffee swarmed your senses as you took another sip from the cappuccino in front of you. At your side was your boyfriend of three months. The relationship was pretty new yet you had a feeling that he didn't share the same sentiment.

Ever since you had first gotten with him he was always a little too close, a little too clingy, a little too knowledgeable. You took it in stride though and made sure to enjoy the strangely attentive man.

"Hey, you're with Build Co?" Your head turned casually as you zoned back into the real world. Standing there was an older man accompanied by what looked to be the standard younger and way more attractive assistant.

"Sure am, shall we start?" You smiled at the two as you slowly pet the thigh of your boyfriend.

"You did so good today, I'm proud of you." You cooed as you languidly stroked his cock. The ministrations were repetitive, up and down like a pendulum. He sat with his legs draped over your lap, his hands holding him up as he pressed them into the bedsheets.

He was like a big puppy, sometimes he was naughty and like today sometimes he was good. You knew that taking him to one of your appointments would be a little shaky, there was something about other people that seemed to set him off. However, he didn't even glare at the gentleman you were designing a house for!

He deserved something good for his efforts.

"T-thank you mommy." He stuttered as he fought to keep his hips still, not wanting to take away his prize by being greedy. You knew all he wanted to do was thrust upwards into your hand, it seemed as if today he just wanted to be on his best behaviour. You cooed as you continued to jerk him, your other hand going to pinch at his sensitive nipples.

He stood tall and strong, muscular and intimidating and yet he had the most sensitive body. Flick his nipples and he was keening, brush over his underwear and he had tears in his eyes. Such a needy boy and yet it was only for you. That rush of dominance was like nothing else, that high of knowing he would only bend over for you. And bend over he did, he tried to tempt you all the time after all.

But now he was being a good boy and good boys deserve rewards. He already had his collar around his neck, the leather slightly biting into his skin just how he liked it and you knew that the butt plug inside him was pressing deliciously into his prostrate as he sat on his ass with his cock before you.

"Please, can I be inside you?" He whispered, his eyes directed down at his weeping cock instead of your eyes. So shy and pliant, always wanting what's best for you. A hum left your mouth as you pretended to think about it for a moment.

"Why not? You've been so good to me haven't you, it would be cruel to leave my little puppy high and dry right?" A snide grin rose to your lips as his eyes lit up, a light sheen of sweat made his skin glisten.

"Come on then, make sure to fuck me good puppy." You grinned as you gave his dick one more tug before shuffling his legs off of you. After a long day of work getting to spend the night with your overly needy boyfriend was like a dream come true. Even better if he had his cock deep inside you as tears streamed down his face.

"Of course mommy, I promise. Always."

#love for anon #sub male #dom reader #ask #sub yandere #yandere male #gn reader

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leviathans-watching · 1 year ago

Text

Breaking the Ice

includes: diavolo x f!reader (she/her & you/your pronouns used, no physical body description)

wc: 14k | rated t | m.list | crossposted on ao3

warnings: cursing, more raunchy than my normal stuff (implied/fade-to-black sexual content), past raphael x reader

huge huge huge thanks to my three amazing betas for this @jeschalynn, @hyperfixat, & @fickleminder, you all seriously elevated this fic and i'm so grateful to you!!

a/n: i have been (slowly) working on this since NOVEMBER. you can't imagine how good this feels to finally post 😫😫. here's a guide to the boys' positions & numbers if you're interested and also where i go over some of the hockey terminology used within this fic! please remember to reblog/comment/etc., it's really appreciated! also blah blah blah creative liberties and suspension of belief. i'm also not a hockey experts so mistakes should be expected 👍

“Say,” he begins, “I couldn’t help but notice you had on a general jersey tonight. I’m surprised you weren’t repping Simeon’s number.”

“And have more rumors about our relationship spread? I don’t think so. Simeon hates when people think we’re dating, which happened for a bit with the CC Chols. Says it gets in his way when he’s trying to find a date.”

“In that case, how about I send you one of mine?” he offers, and you blink up at him.

“A jersey?”

“Yeah, how about it? You could wear the ‘C’ off of the ice.” His dark eyes are even more shadowed and immensely alluring.

“I suppose that’d be okay,” you agree nonchalantly, though your heart is pounding in your chest. You can’t believe the captain of the Devildom Dogs is flirting with you!

∙

Following your childhood best friend across the country after his trade to the Devildom Dogs—one of the most prolific AHL Hockey teams in the business—hadn't been the plan, but you can't say you're not liking it. Especially because the handsome and charming captain of the team, Diavolo, seems to be making it his new season goal to break the ice between you and get to know you better.

“And now,” the announcer’s voice echoes over the arena, egged on by the cheers of the crowd, “we welcome the Devildom Dogs out to the ice!”

The sounds of blades scraping on ice fill the air, and the raucous cheering only grows louder. It should be no different from your old arena, your old team, and yet it is.

Well, except for one thing. Person. As he skates out onto the rink to warm up, Simeon catches your eye, giving you a quick wink that’s barely visible through his helmet. You sigh good-naturedly, and he smiles.

You and Simeon have been friends for as long as you can remember—since birth, if your mothers are telling the truth—and when he’d been traded from the Celestial City Chols all of the way across the country to the Devildom, you hadn’t really seen a reason not to go with him. Your work was completely virtual, and there hadn’t been anything really tying you to the Celestial City after your engagement had been called off. Honestly, though it kind of sucked that Simeon got traded to the biggest rival of the CC Chols, you have high hopes about this new city and team.

A puck slams into the glass just in front of your face. You don’t jump. The boys on the CC Chols had always loved to mess with you and you were long used to things flying at you at what seemed like a million miles per hour. But it wasn’t one of the CC boys who’d sent that puck flying, and as you scan across the ice, you see it was one of the forwards, number one. Simeon had been kind enough to give you the down low on all of his new teammates, and you’d spent a fair amount of time pouring over the roster and memorizing stats, so it’s not hard to put a name to the number. Face. Whatever.

Mammon, starting forward for the season, gives you a smirk then turns away, all flashy footwork and dexterous control. You pause to admire the way his jersey stretches across his back, and then the jersey itself. Damn, he looks good. The jersey looks good—you had designed it after all.

You hadn’t always wanted to be an AHL jersey and logo designer, but through a combination of hard work and dumb luck, you are now the hand behind a myriad of teams’ looks, including the Devildom Dogs and the Celestial City Chols. Not that many people know about the person behind the designs. The average person is typically a lot more invested in the person wearing the jersey, not the one designing it, which is just fine with you. With the amount of money you’re getting, you honestly don’t need recognition.

That paycheck allowed you to purchase the highest level VIP season tickets for the season, managing to snag the seat closest to the home team benches, meaning you’re only a few feet from the team. Simeon had laughed when you’d told him this, but you hadn't cared. Now you can make sure he heard you when you yelled at him for his playing.

As you wait out the warmups, you try to compare this rink with that of your old team. The biggest difference that you could sense was the vibe. Back at the Chols’ rink, the air had been light, filled with more excitement than anything else. But here, it’s different. There’s a bloodthirsty undercurrent running through the crowd, a cutthroat competitiveness that’s completely new to you. The fans are already bothering the opposing team, hurling taunts and insults their way, with the mascot of the Devildom Dogs, an iteration of Cerberus the three-headed dog, whipping the fans into an even crazier frenzy.

And it’s not only the fans that are different; the players are, too. Even within the League, the Dogs have a reputation for playing fast and dirty, masterfully bending the rules without breaking them. You’ve always been impressed by them (not that you’d ever admitted it before, as doing so would have been treason to the Chols), but you’re kind of excited to be able to openly study and praise their skilled playing. Especially since you hope this will give Simeon the team that he needs. It had been clear to you, that he was a cut above the rest in the Chols. Not that that was a bad thing, but now you hope he can be matched, have the room that he needs to stretch his wings and fully use his talent without his team falling behind.

Before you know it, warmups come to an end. The non-starting players file back into the benches and you’re proud to see Simeon remaining on the ice. He’d been traded during the off-season, so it had completely taken you both by surprise to hear he’d be a starter, considering all of the veteran players on the team.

You stand for the national anthem, then finally, finally, the puck is dropped. The team they’re playing against today is one you’re not all that familiar with, and honestly couldn’t care less about, so you focus your attention more on watching Simeon play than you do the game as a whole.

Due to the proximity of your seat to the benches you’re able to hear the chatter of the players, the coach barking orders, and even the signal to change lines. It’s a whole new experience. When you’d go to watch the Chols’ games, you were in the VIP lounge, which, while pretty fancy and awesome, was removed from the ice and the actual grittiness of the game.

Plus, you never got a moment to yourself. All of the other wives and permanent girlfriends had always wanted to chat, and while they were pleasant enough, sometimes you just wanted to lose yourself to the game, yell and scream with the rest of the crowd.

Simeon is on a line with Solomon, who’s a forward, and Leviathan, who’s a left-winger. He’s playing hard and well, proving he deserves to be on this team. You egg him on from your seat, making an effort to have your voice heard above the crowd. The Dogs are playing fairly clean tonight, and you wonder if it’s because it’s opening night.

Or maybe it’s because they don’t need to play dirty. It’s clear they outclass the opposing team in every way, their insane training schedule paying off. The boys are blurs on the ice, and hardly ever on your side of the rink, as they’re pushing hard to keep the puck near the opposing team's goal. At least you’ll be able to see better when they switch sides in the next period.

Simeon returns to the benches and gives you a grin, chugging water. You flutter your fingers in a wave, mouth twisting with a smile. Solomon, following his gaze, locks eyes with you, and you flick a glance between them before turning back to the game, determinedly not looking over. Your eyes are drawn to Diavolo and Lucifer, the defensemen currently on the ice. The other pair you’ve seen tonight, Barbatos and Belphegor, are good, but these two… they’re something else.

They move in perfect formation, seemingly able to anticipate one another’s actions. You remember that Simeon had said they’ve been together since the Q, even were drafted together which is practically unheard of, and now you understand why. They’re menaces of black and red, and it would be a complete shame to separate them. There was even talk of Diavolo moving up to the NHL at one point, but after he became captain he chose to stay down.

You watch as Diavolo steals the puck from under the opposing team’s nose, sending it neatly toward Lucifer, who delivers it right to Asmodeus. He, like the rest of the team, is incredibly talented, but unlike the others, he relies on speed and agility rather than brute force. You’d read somewhere he’d taken a fair amount of figure skating classes to improve his balance and form, and it’s really paid off.

Asmodeus takes the puck all of the way down to the other end of the rink, passing to Mammon, who scores. You’re on your feet with the rest of the arena before you can think, cheering loudly. The boys do a quick celly then get right back to business, switching out with Simeon’s line.

The players on the bench all slap Mammon on the back as he takes his seat, casual as can be.

“You should have sent it to me,” Satan grumbles, barely audible over the din of the crowd and you unashamedly eavesdrop, not even bothering to hide your stare. Around you, the other superfans are still celebrating and their enthusiasm is infectious.

“Whatever,” Mammon shoots back. “I got it in, didn’t I?”

Asmodeus laughs, light and airy. “Barely.”

“Can it, dipshit.” Mammon leans over and smacks him on the shoulder, and you notice he’s taken off his gloves. You smother a chuckle, then return your attention to the ice. The opposing team’s fighting pretty hard, but they’re clearly fighting a futile battle. Any time they manage to get the puck near the Dogs’ goal it’s quickly sent back across the ice, and the few rare times they do manage a shot, it’s easily stopped, mostly by the d-men or the goalie. It almost seems like the Dogs are toying with them, letting them get close to scoring and then removing the chance completely, then repeating the action.

Frustrated, one of the players on the opposing team lashes out, dropping his gloves and rounding on Simeon. He dodges the clumsy blows easily, putting him in his place with a clean uppercut. The ref finally gets between them, taking longer than normal, something you’ve noticed from watching the Devildom Dog’s old games is pretty usual for their arena. They tend to let them go a little longer, which gives the Dogs a better opportunity to beat the shit out of the other players with beautiful brutality. The Chols had been all about good sportsmanship, so fights were a lot less common with them than the average team.

You wish you had been filming, but no doubt there will be videos online depicting the fight thanks to some other fan uploaded within the hour.

Simeon is unscathed, but the other player spits blood across the ice, glowering at him. You let out a long whoop, and he half turns towards you, lips curving up in a small, feral smile. You can already see it—this change is good for him.

They both get a few minutes for roughing, but Simeon looks all too happy to be in the sin bin. You can’t help but snap a few pictures, throwing them on your story. The game resumes with more energy, with both the players and the crowd whipped up into more of a frenzy. The fans want blood, or at least for crushing defeat to be delivered, and it seems like the team’s hellbent on delivering. It’s a fantastic game, wilder and more energizing than you’ve seen in a long time, and you can’t help but be excited for the upcoming rest of the season.

As the game draws nearer to the end, the opposing team pulls their goalie, but quickly puts it back after the Devildom Dogs score yet another goal, increasing the already sizable score gap. When the buzzer finally goes off signaling the end of the game, the away team looks utterly defeated while the Devildom Dogs celebrate. You catch a few curses and middle fingers shared between teams, and again, have to laugh.

You stand and cheer with the rest of the crowd, reveling in the thrill of the win along with the team. Simeon’s in the center of it all, receiving congratulatory slaps and fist-bumps, and you know without a doubt he’s been accepted as one of their own. You’re a bit relieved—he’d been worried about not getting along with the others. Not that it’s necessary at this level of playing, but at his center, Simeon likes being liked and had been worried about how he was being received.

Around you, fans start making their way out of the auditorium, and you follow, knowing Simeon’s going to go out to celebrate with the rest of the team. You feel eyes on you as you leave. You look over and make eye contact with the team captain, Diavolo, who gives you a half genuinely warm, half inquisitive smile. You tilt your head and smile back, slightly teasing, then turn away.

∙

The walk back to your and Simeon’s shared apartment isn’t far, but it is a bit chillier than it is this time of year in Celestial City, so you’re grateful when you’re able to close the door behind you. You send off a quick text to Simeon telling him you’d made it safe, then just pause for a moment, digesting the game. The boys had played great, your jerseys had looked fantastic, and you were pretty sure you’d already caught the attention of some of the players. You’ll get to know them all eventually, or at least that’s what you assume since you’d been so familiar with the CC Chols, so you’re not too worried, but the image of that smile the captain had sent you plays in your head. It’s unusual for fans to be given attention like that, so you wonder if Simeon’s already said something about you.

Shaking yourself, you start your bedtime routine and change into more comfortable clothes. You won’t actually go to sleep for a while, perks of making your own hours and being a night owl, but starting it early never hurts. You also need to stay up for Simeon, as you know he’s going to want to tell you all about the game from his perspective. You’re excited to hear it, as well as excited to hear what hanging with the guys after is like.

Time passes, and with no word from him, you begin to get a little worried. It’s not unheard of for him to come home late. If he were with the Chols, you wouldn’t be worried at all, but he’s in an unfamiliar city with unfamiliar guys, you’ve heard about the hazing horror stories. You uneasily move around the apartment, trying to convince yourself that you’re overreacting. Suddenly your phone rings, that familiar ring-tone carrying through the air, and you hurry to answer it, raising your phone to your ear.

“Simeon?” you ask breathlessly.

“Uh, not Simeon,” an unfamiliar voice says, and you jerk back, checking the caller ID. It is Simeon’s number. “My name is Diavolo, I’m captain of the Devildom Dogs hockey team, the one that Simeon recently joined. I’m not sure what all you know or who you are, but your name is favorited in his contacts, and I think Simeon needs to get picked up. I would drop him off myself,” he adds regretfully, “but I’m a little buzzed and don’t want to get behind the wheel.”

“Totally understandable,” you assure him. “Is Simeon okay? What happened?”

Diavolo sighs. “Solomon and Asmo happened. They’re two other team members and they love welcoming the new team members with open arms. And lots of booze.”

“Are you saying he’s drunk?” you ask, finally catching his drift. “Simeon doesn’t typically drink much.”

“Asmodeus can be very persuasive. And not like, black-out drunk, but definitely feeling it.”

“I see. Well, what bar are you guys at? I can swing by to pick him up now, if you’d like?”

“That would be great,” Diavolo sighs with relief, and his warm tone sends butterflies through your stomach. He gives you the location and you realize it’s only a few blocks from your apartment, easily within walking distance. You’ll walk there, and if needed, call a rideshare back.

“I’ll be there in like, fifteen minutes,” you say, already pulling on your shoes. You look like crap, but honestly, you’ve never been one to care about things like that. If Simeon’s drunk enough that you need to pick him up, you really don’t want to waste time.

“Okay, thank you. And I’m really sorry about all of this,” Diavolo says earnestly. “I’ll be having words with Solomon and Asmo both about this.”

“Don’t be,” you reply, a smile tugging at your lips. “It’s only natural they’d get rowdy after a win, and I’m sure you have your hands full with everyone else. I totally get it. As long as it’s not a repeating occurrence. I can’t come and get him after every game.”

Diavolo laughs, deep and warm. “Yes ma’am. See you in a few.”

You hurry to the bar, hand wrapped around your pepper spray. Though Celestial City has been pretty safe, you know that the Devildom is less so, but there are enough people still out that you don’t feel too sketched out. When you arrive at the bar, you walk in, scanning the room for the team. They’re easy enough to spot, and you make your way over.

“No more autographs,” someone groans as you approach, and you realize it’s Belphegor, the d-man who plays beside Barbatos.

“I’m not here for that,” you say, and everyone looks over. You only have eyes for Simeon, who’s slumped over in a booth, tapping away on his phone. “Get up,” you demand, poking him in the side.

While he struggles to sit up properly, sluggish from the booze, you lean over to Diavolo.

“Hi,” you say, clearing your throat, “I’m MC. We spoke on the phone earlier.”

“You’re the chick who was at the game,” Mammon crows, pushing himself next to you before Diavolo can reply. “It’s nice to meet ya!”

“Yes, it’s nice to meet you too,” you say, taking him in. He’s tall and muscular, but nowhere as near as broad as Diavolo, who is honestly, a hunk of a man.

“Thank you for coming,” Diavolo says gratefully. “I’ve been giving him water to help him sober up but he’s still tipsy. You got here quickly.”

“Yeah, well, our apartment is only a few blocks from here,” you say with a shrug, pulling Simeon up to his feet.

“You live together?” Out of the corner of your eye, you see a flash of honey-blonde hair and Asmodeus as he speaks up. “Are you two married?”

Before you can reply, Simeon laughs, and it seems like he’s starting to sober up a little. “No. Lord, no.” He continues to laugh, shaking his head.

You roll your eyes and clarify, “No, Simeon and I are childhood friends. When he got traded to the Devildom Dogs I decided I was sick of the CC Chols and followed. And it’s a good thing I did,” you say severely, turning your scolding to Simeon, “because look at the state you’re in.”

“Please,” a smile tugs at the edge of his lips, “if you’d been here you’d be way worse off than me and we both know it.”

Well, he’s got you there.

“Hey,” Simeon says, and it’s like a lightbulb has gone off over his head. “I just had the most genius idea. MC, let’s stay here for a bit so you can meet everybody.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” you say doubtfully, and the boys all begin talking at once.

“No, no, sit down!” Diavolo encourages you, and after another moment of hesitation, you sit. Simeon slides back into the booth, scooting further over so you have room, and you make sure to jam him in the side with your elbow ‘accidentally’ as you’re settling. He pinches your side in return, but since you’re in public you can’t retaliate like you would at your apartment, or even back with the CC Chols, who were familiar with your relationship. Starting the night by getting into a hissy slap fight isn’t the image you want to start off with.

“Um, congratulations on the game,” you say. “You all played very well.”

“Of course we did,” Mammon crows, “we’re the fucking Devildom Dogs!”

“Mammon, be polite,” Lucifer, Diavolo’s d-man partner says, and Mammon makes a face. “Thank you very much,” he says, turning to face you directly. “I’m Lucifer, and this is…”

Lucifer introduces everyone around the table for you, and you do yours when they’re finished.

“So, MC, what do you do?” Satan asks.

“I’m a logo designer,” you reply. Simeon rolls his eyes at your vague response but doesn’t spoil your fun. “I run a small design business out of our apartment.”

“You must be pretty good to be able to afford those seats,” Solomon points out slyly. “That is if you’re a season ticket member? I guess you could have just bought it off the actual member for the night.”

“So, you’re not successful?” Belphegor asks.

Simeon shakes his head. “No, she is, but she’s also really humble.”

“Sure, humble,” you agree wryly.

“Is there anything you want to drink?” Diavolo cuts in, leaning over the table to be heard better, but you shake your head regretfully.

“Sorry, not today. One of us has gotta be able to manage getting us home.”

“Next time, then?”

A handful of men have pursued you in the past, but he’s definitely the most charming, you think as he gives you a look both guileless and expectant. And you’re not opposed, so you laugh and agree, “Sure, next time.”

“MC, was it?” Asmodeus purrs, and you turn to him. He knows damn well what your name is. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Ah, no,” you reply, and your mind flashes back to your ex-fiance. Your relationship with Raphael had been fun, but it was clear that neither of you were really interested in marriage, but the pressure took its toll. Honestly, your decision to move to the Devildom was a really good opportunity to start fresh. You were glad you didn’t have any reason to really see him anymore. “I broke off my engagement recently and I’m still trying to get back on the dating scene.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Asmodeus says a bit awkwardly. You wish you’d given him a little less of the truth.

“Don’t be.” You give him a bright smile. “It wasn’t a bad relationship, we just realized that we weren’t compatible long-term and it was best to part ways.”

“Kudos to you for having the balls to break it off, then,” Diavolo speaks up suddenly. “That must have been difficult.”

“It was difficult at first, yeah,” you reply, “but it was the best choice and I don’t regret it.”

“Enough of that,” Simeon cuts in, throwing his arm around your shoulders. He can sense your reluctance to fully jump into talking about your failed relationship. “I think MC wants to know more about all of you.”

“That’s true,” you agree with a laugh. “A girl can’t help but be curious about the most notorious team in the AHL.”

“What do you think of us so far?” Satan asks, raising one neat eyebrow.

“You’re all a lot nicer than the rumors say, for one,” you begin, and Mammon laughs.

“Well, that’s because we like you so far. Believe me, if we didn’t, you wouldn’t be callin’ us nice.”

“I’m almost offended,” Solomon says, putting a hand on his chest. “I’ve been described as a lot of things, but nice’? I deserve more credit than that!”

“Well damn, okay,” you say jokingly, holding your hands up innocently. “I wasn’t trying to offend. I guess you’re all also a lot funnier than I thought. In my experience hockey boys usually aren’t quite as witty as you’ve been tonight.”

“Was that an insult to hockey players?” Beelzebub grumbles to Belphegor, who nods seriously.

“I think it was.”

“Well not to you,” you say exasperatedly, and the honeyed laugh that you get from Diavolo feels like a win.

The night goes on with info and chirps being swapped back and forth, and by the time it’s time to pack up and all separate, you feel like you’ve gained a lot through this experience. Your worries are mostly assuaged; you’ve gotten to know all of the boys at least somewhat, and everyone now knows you.

“Well, we’re this way,” you say to Diavolo, who walked you out. Simeon is still inside, paying his tab, so it’s just the two of you under the entrance lights. The city is dark yet still busy, and you’re glad to see the nightlife is what had been advertised, lively and entrancing. “It was really nice to meet you. Thanks for letting me hang out and meet everyone.”

“We enjoyed your company,” he says smoothly. “Thanks for giving up your evening to spend time with a bunch of nice, witty hockey players.”

“Oh my god,” you groan. “You guys are never going to let me forget that, are you?”

“Nope.” His teeth glint in the light, standing out against his dark skin. He has a nice smile, you think to yourself before you realize you’ve been staring.

He doesn’t seem to mind, though, if the interested expression on his face is any indication.

“Say,” he begins, “I couldn’t help but notice you had on a general jersey tonight. I’m surprised you weren’t repping Simeon’s number.”

“In that case, how about I send you one of mine?” he offers, and you blink up at him.

“A jersey?”

“Yeah, how about it? You could wear the ‘C’ off of the ice.” His dark eyes are even more shadowed and immensely alluring.

“I suppose that’d be okay,” you agree nonchalantly, though your heart is pounding in your chest. You can’t believe the captain of the Devildom Dogs is flirting with you! “You can just give it to Simeon whenever it's convenient for you.”

“Oh, no,” he disagrees, “I think I’ve gotta give it to you directly, you know, to make sure it gets to you safe and sound. How about you swing by one of our practices next week? I can give it to you then.”

“I’ll have to check my schedule,” you say, knowing you’re definitely free. “I’m a busy woman. Popular, too.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he recipes silkily, but before either of you can add anything else, Simeon appears, his suspicious eyes glancing back and forth between the two of you.

“MC, stop your flirting so we can get home,” he instructs, and you laugh.

“As if you’re not the reason we’re still here. See you, Diavolo.”

“I’m holding you to that,” he calls as you walk away. “Next week, okay?”

“We’ll see,” you return without looking back. You both know that means ‘yes’.

∙

Cracking your back, you push away from your desk, finally finished with work. The Devildom Dogs reached out to you and asked for a Veterans Day design, so you’ve spent the whole day brainstorming potential ideas for the jerseys.

You were glad they contacted you, especially since they were asking for a rush job which meant you were able to get them to sign a contract that would pay you a lot of money. Man, you love your job. And money.

“Done with work?” Simeon asks, poking his head into your room. Your apartment was pretty modest so your workspace was in your bedroom, and honestly, though it was kind of cramped, the setup was pretty sweet.

“Yep,” you say, and he walks fully in, sitting on the bed. “Management of the Dogs reached out, they want Veterans Day jerseys.”

“What do you have so far?” he asks, and you spend a few moments looking at the designs you’d thrown together.

“I really like that one,” he says, choosing his favorite, and you make a mental note of that. Ultimately, it comes down to the people you’re working with with the Devildom Dogs, but Simeon has pretty good taste and is usually right about which design will get chosen.

“How was your day?” you ask. They didn’t have a game or official practice, but you were pretty sure you’d seen him heading out to the gym earlier in the day.

“It was good,” he says, flopping back onto his back, “but I’m tired. And I don’t want to cook.”

“I don’t either,” you admit. “Takeout?”

“My trainer’s going to kill me,” he grumbles but opens his phone and starts scrolling through the delivery options.

“You rarely go off of your diet plan,” you dismiss. “Once in a while won’t hurt.”

Within a few moments, Simeon’s placed an order at some sandwich place nearby. “Should be delivered within the hour.”

“Sweet.”

When the food comes, the two of you ignore your table to sit on the couch, putting on the shows you’ve been watching. You take a moment to snap a picture of him, the TV, and the food, and put it on your Instagram story.

It’s only a few moments before your phone buzzes and you see someone’s swiped up.

Diavolo_14: Is that meal trainer approved?

MC: What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him lol

Diavolo_14: I guess at least it’s sandwiches. Could be worse.

MC: And I convinced Simeon anyway, so blame me not him

Diavolo_14: Oh, I have no doubts about who’s responsible. What are you watching?

MC: Some dumb sitcom. IDK, Simeon and I just make our way through shows together for something to do

Diavolo_14: Jealous.

MC: Of the food?

Diavolo_14: Of Simeon. I want to watch dumb sitcoms with you.

“What—or who—has you smiling like that?” Simeon asks, leaning over to look at your phone. You turn it away from him, sticking out your tongue.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“It’s Diavolo, isn’t it?” he asks, and you roll your eyes.

“You better not try to warn me or him off, okay? We’re both adults and—”

“I literally do not care.” He gives you a sideways glance. “Unless he breaks your heart, of course. But other than that, do whatever you want.”

“Thanks for the heartfelt sentiment,” you say sarcastically, and he laughs. You’re so glad Simeon’s never been the overprotective type, as you’d definitely chafe under it. Over time, the both of you have mostly been a listening ear, only giving advice when asked, and it’s a system that works really well for the both of you.

With a start, you realize you’ve left Diavolo hanging, and go back to the DM thread.

MC: Is that so?

Diavolo_14: That is so. Now, when are you going to come to practice to get that jersey?

MC: Well, I was going to surprise you tomorrow…

Diavolo_14: And now I’ve ruined the surprise, haven’t I?

MC: Yeah lol.

Diavolo_14: Well, you should still come tomorrow.

MC: Alright, alright, see you then

Diavolo_14: Looking forward to it, MC.

His words send a flutter through your stomach, and you have a hard time focusing on the show for the rest of the night, too busy thinking about one, handsome captain of the Devildom Dogs. Simeon chirps and needles you for it, something you let him do because you probably deserve it.

“Whatever,” you finally say, standing up. “I’m going to bed.”

“Oh, yeah, get that beauty sleep,” he replies. “You need it.”

Grabbing a throw pillow, you chuck it in his direction, making a hasty retreat to your room.

It’s hard to fall asleep, but once you do, you have good dreams and wake up well-rested. Even though you’re really looking forward to Simeon’s practice, it’s not until the afternoon so you keep busy working on the Veterans Day jersey designs though your mind drifts more often than you’d like to admit.

You’ve only known Diavolo for a few days, but things are just so electric with him. Sparks truly do fly between the two of you and his flirting makes you feel giddy, but your last relationship wasn’t been filled with lots of laughter so you feel like you’re entitled to it. You wonder if he feels this way too. Does he feel the connection? What does he want with you? Before you can linger on the thoughts, you stand, forcing yourself to switch gears.

“Ready to go?” Simeon asks when you walk into the living room, and you nod. You have your laptop just in case you get bored (which you doubt will happen) and you put it in the backseat of Simeon’s car.

“This is so exciting,” you say, only half-kidding. “Behind the scenes with the Devildom Dogs. Do you think the others will mind me watching?”

Simeon shakes his head. “Nah, I don’t think so. Everyone likes you and this gives them a chance to show off.” Laughing, he says, “I think they might like you more than me.”

“That is so not true,” you argue with an eye roll. “They’ve only met me once. And how could they? Everyone has always gotten along better with you than me anyway.”

“Yeah, because I’m not annoying as hell,” he says nonchalantly, and you send him a glare.

“You’re so lucky you’re driving,” you threaten. “I don’t know why everyone always thinks you’re so angelic. You’re such an ass to me.”

“It’s deserved,” he points out, and okay, you have to agree.

When he pulls into the parking lot behind the ice rink they use for practice, you waste no time gathering your shit and hopping out of the car.

“Nervous?” Simeon asks, and you scoff.

“As if.” It’s a half-lie. Maybe nervousness isn’t the right word. It’s more like… anticipation.

Simeon leads you through the back doors to the rink, and you look around, taking everything in. You’re assuming it’s open to the public when it’s not in use by the team and that theory is backed up by the presence of a skate rental sign pointing down another hall.

“You can hang out on the stands,” Simeon says, pointing like you don’t already see them. “I’ll tell everyone you’re here and they can do whatever they want with that info.”

You sit near the rink, but not directly in the front row, and mess around on your phone for a few moments. You’re expecting people to approach you from the ice so when someone taps your shoulder, you jump, looking behind you.

“Sorry, sorry,” Diavolo says, holding out his hands in a peace gesture. His grin is easy and just as attractive as you remembered. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You’re good,” you say. “I was just waiting for you to skate over to me, not walk.”

“What I’m hearing is that you were waiting for me.” He does something with his eyebrows that comes off as insanely attractive and you wonder just how desperate you are.

“Well, yeah,” you say. “I was promised a gift.”

“That you were,” he agrees. “And I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait a little longer for it. I left it in my car and since practice is starting so soon I totally don’t have time to go and get it. Darn.”

“Is this your way of asking me out after practice?”

“Well, it was my way of asking to give you a ride home, but hey, that works too,” he chuckles, eyes sparkling with some positive emotion you can’t quite pin down. “As long as Simeon won’t get mad. I know you’re close friends.”

“Him?” You laugh. “He won’t be, first of all, because neither of us really cares what either gets up to romantically, and secondly, even if he was, it would be none of his damn business. I’m a grown woman with my own agenda and I’m glad he’s always recognized that. Even when we were younger,” you say with a sigh, “he’d let me get myself into all sorts of scrapes and situations, then just smugly tell me it was my own fault. Nothing serious, of course, but out of the two of us I’ve always been rasher and he definitely uses that for his entertainment.”

“Seriously?” Diavolo questions. “He seems so kind and nice. I have a hard time believing that.”

“That’s because he wants you to think that,” you tell him darkly, and the laugh you get in return is glorious, full-bellied and rich.

Not noticing your sudden stupor, he sighs, catching his breath. “Well, I better get on the ice. Duties of being a captain and all of that.”

“What, actually having to show up to practice and set a good example? So hard.”

“You get it,” he says, and you shake your head, unable to stop your smile.

“Watch me on the ice?” he asks, beginning to walk away backward.

“Obviously,” you say, “but Diavolo…”

“Yeah?” he begins to reply, then trips over a bench, stumbling to the ground.

“...there’s a bench behind you,” you finish, and the gobsmacked look on his face is one you endeavor to remember, pressing into your memories.

The boys waste no time getting into the swing of practice, though you receive a few looks and waves. Their drills are intense and difficult looking, but they make them seem easy. Watching them makes you yearn to get back on the ice, a feeling you haven’t had in a while. Maybe you should see what days the rink offers open skate and pull yours out of your closet.

Watching them makes you feel oddly nostalgic. Both for the Chols and for the rec league with Simeon. You’d played hockey with him through school, quitting in college when he’d been scouted directly to the Chols. You’d been the forward to his right wing, and though you’d never had the same amount of sheer talent as him, you’d been no slouch.

But as time went on, you’ve been satisfied with just watching. Marveling at the feats the Chols were able to do on the ice, rather than rush to attempt them yourself as you might once have.

You’d been on the ice with the Chols a few times, but after the first year, the novelty had worn off. You’d shifted to the stands after your engagement, sticking with the other girls, and again, while that had been fun, you’re realizing now that you truly, sincerely missed the feeling of skating.

The coaches hardly pay you any attention, and while you’d thought that maybe your presence would have distracted the boys, they’re all business, showing you a much more serious side than you’d seen so far. Discounting that first game, of course.

Before you know it, the practice is halfway over. It’s going by way too fast!

“Hey,” Simeon calls from the ice, grabbing your attention. “We’ve got a five-minute break. Come down here!”

You roll your eyes but stand, crossing the short distance to the edge of the rink. He’s out of breath and sweating, clearly working hard on the drills.

“What do you think, huh?” he asks, putting a hand on the board.

“Yeah, I want to know!” Mammon cries, skating over and almost running into Simeon. “Cooler and better and more awesomer than the Chols?”

“‘Awesomer’ isn’t a word, dimwit,” Belphegor says, clearly listening in on the conversation, and you laugh.

“Way awesomer than the Chols.”

“Glad you think so,” Diavolo says from behind you, and you jump. Again. Man, he’s really got to stop doing that. Or maybe you need to be more attentive; you hadn’t even seen him get off the ice! He’s sweaty too, hair sticking down slightly on his forehead, but unlike with Simeon, you drink the sight in. God, this man gets more and more attractive every time you see him. “Did you see me out there?”

Honestly, he was pretty much all you could look at.

“Of course I did.”

“Was it impressive?”

Mindful of Simeon, Belphegor, and Mammon (whom Diavolo doesn’t even seem to care about), you choose your words with care. “Don’t fish for compliments.”

He grins, opening his mouth to speak, but before he can, the coaches call everyone to the ice.

“Stop your flirting, Captain!” Mammon cackles, and Diavolo sighs.

“I barely even got to talk to you!”

Your heart flutters. “Well, I’ll be here after practice…”

“That you will,” he says dorkily, looking all too excited. How can this man go from unbelievably sexy to cute so quickly?

The rest of practice flies by, and when it’s called to an end, anticipation bubbles in your chest. Diavolo nods towards the shower, and you give him a thumbs up. Simeon shakes his head with a laugh, and you can’t help but flip him off.

You pack your things slowly, or maybe it’s that Diavolo showers quickly, because he walks out of the locker room at the same time you approach it. And lord, if you’d thought sweaty Diavolo was attractive, then what was post-shower Diavolo? Off the fucking charts is what. His shirt, slightly damp, sticks to his chest in a way that makes you want to drool.

“Ready?” he asks, taking your laptop bag from you before you can protest.

“Of course.” You gesture for him to lead the way. “I’m excited to see this jersey after hearing so much about it.”

“And I’m excited to see you wear it,” he replies smoothly, and your cheeks heat up.

“Sweet talker.”

“Honest,” he corrects amusedly, holding the door for you as you exit the building into the parking lot.

His car is nice. Much nicer than Simeon’s well-loved and well-worn sedan, it’s sleek and expensive looking. Too bad you’re not much of a car girl, otherwise you’d definitely appreciate it more. You notice it’s also clean and smells good when you buckle in.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry,” Diavolo says, sliding into his own seat. “Burned off a lot of calories at practice there.”

“What about your meal plan?” you question, faux-innocently, and he raises his eyebrows.

“What my trainer doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” he replies, repeating your earlier words back to you. You can’t help but giggle.

“Well, I’m hungry too, so I think lunch is a great idea,” you say. “I’m obviously new around here so I’ll let you choose. Now, I want to be impressed.”

“Yes ma’am.” He starts up the car and smoothly exits the parking lot. “How about my favorite brunch place?”

“Isn’t it a little late for brunch?” you ask, and he shrugs.

“Eh, they serve brunch all day.”

“That sounds good to me,” you say, and he grins.

“Good, because it’s literally right down the road.”

∙

Once you’re seated inside, Diavolo takes the menu from your hand and sets it aside. “You won’t need this,” he says. “Trust me.”

“Oh, I didn’t know I was dining with an expert,” you joke. “Fine, I’ll trust you. But if you get me something I don’t like, get ready to pay the price.”

“If it’s you—” he waggles his eyebrows devilishly “—I wouldn’t mind getting punished.”

You shake your head, trying to clear the thoughts and images that had arisen from his words, and take a long sip of water. “So, um, what do you like to do?”

“Play hockey.”

You wave a hand. “You know what I mean, dipshit.”

“Fine, fine. Let’s see… I enjoy running, especially at this park near my place. The sunrise is super pretty. And I spend a lot of time with Barbatos and Lucifer too.”

“You do?” you ask, surprised. They were pretty close for a professional team but you hadn’t known it was that close.

“Yep. Been friends with them forever. Barbatos, for as long as I can remember—I’m pretty sure our parents introduced us in the hospital—and Lucifer and I met at a camp years ago. It’s honestly pretty crazy we made it to the same team.”

“Wow,” you say, remembering reading headlines of the unexpected draft pick for both of them, “that is crazy. I’m glad you guys are all so close.”

“Well, most of us have been on the team for at least a season,” he replies. “I’m glad Simeon’s growing closer with us too. He seems like a really cool dude.”

“He is,” you reply, “but don’t tell him I said so. He’d never let me live it down.”

Diavolo winks, miming locking his mouth with a key. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

The waitress comes to take your orders then, and you leave it all to Diavolo. He gets the same dish for the both of you, promising it’ll be worth it.

“I hope so,” you say. “I’m kind of nervous. I’ve never heard of a dish called ‘Hotter Than Hot Toasted Sandwich’. It’s a good thing I like spicy food. What would you have done if I didn’t?”

He looks sheepish then, rubbing at the back of your neck. “I asked Simeon just to be sure.”

The thought put into it touches you, and you look down, then up at him through your lashes. “I see.”

The conversation drifts, moving from one topic to another with ease. And that’s what things are with Diavolo. Easy. He’s kind and funny, attentive to your feelings, and seems to find you just as appealing as you find him.

That is, if you’re reading the signs right, but honestly it’d be kind of hard to interpret his actions otherwise.

Your food arrives, and thankfully, it’s as delicious as he’d promised. You both finish eating at around the same time, and as if she’d been waiting, the waitress comes and drops off the check. Before you can move, Diavolo has his card out, a shiny black Amex, and sets it on the table.

“I’m not going to argue,” you say with a laugh, and he smiles.

“Good. I want to treat you.”

“Careful,” you warn playfully, “or I might get used to it.”

He leans forward, a little more serious. Those eyes burn into you, making you breathless even though he hasn’t said anything. “And what if that’s what I want?”

You blink at his sudden bluntness. It’s almost hard for you to believe what you’re hearing. That a man like him is interested in a girl like you. Not that you’re not a catch, but damn, he’s out of this world. “Well,” you finally say, “I guess you’ll just have to keep taking me out to prove it.”

“If that’s what it takes,” he says lowly, “then I’d be happy to provide. Let’s get out of here.”

The waitress had apparently grabbed his card and returned it without you noticing, so when he stands, it takes you a second to follow. He leads you back to his car.

“Do you need to get back to anything or can I steal you for longer?” he asks, and you consult your watch.

“Unfortunately, I do have a work meeting in like an hour,” you reply reluctantly. “That's not enough time for us to really do anything.”

He frowns. “That’s unfortunate. I wanted to show you around the Devildom since I figured you hadn’t had much time to explore.”

“That’ll just have to wait until next time,” you say airily, and he shakes his head.

“You really do know how to wrap me around your finger.”

You give him the address to your apartment, and all too soon he’s pulling up outside of the building.

“I had fun today,” you say earnestly. “Thanks for taking me out.”

He reaches into his back seat and pulls a piece of fabric forward. The jersey, you realize, as he presses it into your hands. A smile blooms on your face.

“I had fun today too,” he says. “And I better see you wearing that to the game tomorrow. That is, if you’re coming.”

You unbuckle, throwing his door open. “Oh, I will be. Coming, that is. And wearing your number.”

∙

The season continues. You wear Diavolo’s jersey to the games, cheering for the Dogs with wild abandon, and they continue to win. And win, and win, and win.

(“It’s all thanks to Simeon,” Solomon faux-whispers to you at one celebratory post-game hang. “He’s way better at being my right than Asmo ever was.”

“Rude!” Asmo returns, jostling into Solomon’s side. Everyone laughs, and you easily join in. These boys, they’ve become a part of you, like you’ve become a part of them.)

Off the ice, you and Diavolo grow closer. You get familiar with his life outside of hockey, staying overnight at his apartment here and there when you both have the time. You haven’t put a label on it, something Diavolo seems to sense you’re not ready for, as the ended engagement with Raphael is still a little fresh, but it’s clear to the both of you that this isn’t some passing fling.

Before you know it, months have passed, and it’s playoff season. The Dogs obviously make it, having a perfect season thus far, as do the Chols, who had a rocky start to the beginning of the season, probably due to the changed dynamics without Simeon, but quickly redeemed themselves to finish strong.

(“We bring home the Calder Cup all of the time,” Belphie says with an eye roll. “How is this season any different?”

Mammon grins slyly. “It’s different for our dear Captain. After all, he’s finally got someone he wants to win the cup for.”

Diavolo’s hand, where it’s wrapped around yours, squeezes lightly.)

Diavolo offers to fly you out to the West Coast for the championship game, as somehow, the Chols made it into the final two. They never quite managed that when Simeon was on the team. You decline, not because you’re not going, but because you can fly yourself.

The bonus from both teams’ championship jerseys is sitting nice and pretty in your account right now.

You’re a bit nervous on the plane. Not because of the flying, but at the thought of seeing the Chols. Especially since this wasn’t any old game, but the championship one. It’d be a hard loss, for whoever doesn’t make it, and though at this point, your loyalties lie entirely with the Dogs, you don’t want to make anyone on the old team feel betrayed.

It’d also be your first time seeing Raphael in a long time, and the thought makes you a little scared. But you’re also hopeful. Hopeful that you’ll get to see people who were once your world again without it being too awkward.

Although, considering the rivalry between the teams you’re not sure how feasible that one is…

When you get off the plane, carry-on in tow, you text Diavolo that you’ve landed safely, not expecting his reply to come right away.

Diavolo_14: I’m glad you made it

Diavolo_14: Still not sure why you wouldn’t fly in with us though :((

MC: I told you, I had it covered. You can spoil me some other way, on a trip that’s unrelated to your games

Diavolo_14: Is that you saying you want to travel with me in the off-season? After all of this postseason stuff is completed?

MC: Yes but you already knew that.

Diavolo_14: I suppose I may have had an idea.

Diavolo_14: Anyway, don’t get in a taxi or anything, our hotel is within walking distance.

MC: I already had reservations somewhere else!

Diavolo_14: Reservations Simeon canceled

Diavolo_14: I was hoping it’d be a nice surprise but if you’re uncomfortable with it I can get your old room back.

MC: It’s not bad, and I am surprised. I just don’t want to distract you before such an important game.

Diavolo_14: Pssshh, this game is nothing. And you’re never a distraction <3

MC: Liar.

MC: Remember when I made you late to practice last week?

Diavolo_14: Oh yeah. Anyway, if you’re really fine with it you’d be sharing with me

Diavolo_14: It’s got a jacuzzi tub………

MC: You spoil me. Yes I’m fine with it.

MC: What’s the name of the hotel so I can walk there?

Diavolo_14: You should be able to see it if you go to the east entrance and look up.

MC: Oh, good, I’m near there. Hold on

Diavolo_14: Yeah just look up and over by the sign for the shuttle, then slightly to the left.

You do as he directs, eyes widening when instead of a hotel, you see a familiar head of red hair. He waves, and you cross the street in a hurry.

“Hey!” he greets, wrapping you in a hug. “You sure it was a good surprise? I was worried it’d be too much, but I really wanted you with me. If I went too far, seriously, tell me. I know we haven’t really talked about where we are but I really like you and it seems to be the same for you so I’d hoped it would be alright. Plus, Simeon said you’d like it. And yes, I’m totally throwing him under the bus right now in case you don’t,” he adds, trying to alleviate some of the seriousness.

You laugh. “I like it. And I like the idea of a jacuzzi tub. I’m all gross from the plane. And I do like you, a lot, so you have nothing to worry about there. It’s a sweet gesture.”

Diavolo leans in to kiss you then, something you return, pleased. Though it’d only been a few days of separation, you’d found yourself really missing him. Almost too much, you worried.

Once you break apart, Diavolo takes your bag from you, slinging it over his shoulder, and you can’t help but smile up at him. You twine your fingers through his, relishing the feel of the west coast. Though it was winter, the balmy beach weather was much nicer than the frozen streets of the Devildom. And to think you once considered this weather cold.

Diavolo and you mosey out of the airport and down the street, not in any particular hurry. When you do get into the lobby, you’re instantly greeted by half of the team, who’d apparently been stalking the two of you from the expansive windows.

“You made it!” Asmo cheers, eyes sparkling. “Now we can really have some fun!”

“Sorry, sorry, but I’m afraid I’m going to be keeping MC all to myself for the time being,” Diavolo says, not sounding very apologetic. “We’ve got a date with the jacuzzi tub.”

“We?” you say, giving him a look. “Who said anything about ‘we’? I said that I wanted a bath.”

Simeon laughs, shaking his head, and you share a smile with him.

“No, no, come on,” Diavolo begs theatrically. “Don’t deprive me. Of the wonderful jacuzzi jets, of course,” he adds hastily, seeing your unimpressed look.

“You’d better be nice to him,” Lucifer warns you, in a tone you’ve only recently begun to recognize as his joking one. “I already gave up rooming with him for you, and I don’t need him complaining to me. Not when I now have to deal with rooming with these nitwits.”

“Hey!” Mammon and Simeon protest.

“It’s not like I said your names,” Lucifer says drily.

“Yeah, but it was clear you were talking about us,” Mammon responds, and their squabbling fades into the background as Diavolo pulls you to the elevators, mashing the ‘Close Doors’ button before anyone else can get on.

“You didn’t really mean that, did you?” he asks, turning to you. “You’re going to let me in the tub, right? If you don’t it might cause me to not play my best and lead to the Chols winning the cup tomorrow. You don’t want that, do you?”

“Oh, we’re threatening now, are we?” you laugh, and he shakes his head.

“Not threatening, just informing.”

“I see,” you say. “Well, since I have a vested interest in seeing the Dogs take this game, I guess I’d better do anything that I can to ensure a win.”

“Anything?” Diavolo asks, eyebrows waggling, and you give him a sly smile.

“Anything.”

∙

“Are you getting hungry?” Diavolo eventually asks, and you roll over to better face him. He looks like a dream, hair spread across the pillow, dark skin beautiful against the white sheets. “Lucifer just texted; apparently some of the Chols want to meet up at a bar, do a little pre-game catching up. They really want to see Simeon.” He hesitates. “But if you don’t want to do that, we can grab food somewhere else by ourselves.”

“No, no,” you say quickly. “I’m not going to deprive the team of its captain. And, I have missed the boys. I’d love to see them. I’m just a little nervous.”

“Because of Raphael?” he asks gently. You’d filled him in on your past with the other hockey player, in bits and pieces, and Diavolo's been fully understanding, sharing his own stories of past love in return. You’d only grown closer through honesty, and you’re glad you’d been open with him, as now you don’t have to do any awkward explaining or suffer through any misunderstandings.

“Some,” you admit honestly. “Well, mostly because of him. But I think it’ll just be weird to see them all. The Chols were my life at one point, you know, so it’s just going to be bittersweet. I do want to see them, though,” you add firmly, making up your mind, “so let’s go.”

“Are you sure?” Diavolo reaches over, brushing across your cheek. You lean into his touch, nodding.

“I’m sure. Now, stop touching me, because I need to actually get out of this bed and get ready.”

“You already look perfect,” Diavolo insists, and you bat his hand away, sitting up.

“Flatterer,” you reply cheekily. “But I’m pretty sure you’re the only one I want to see me like this. So let me get ready, alright?”

“Fine, fine,” he says. “I guess I’ll shower. Unless you want to join?”

“No!” you huff with a laugh. “Stop tempting me. And, we just took baths.”

“Well, I need a shower if we’re going to leave this hotel room,” he says meaningfully, and though your cheeks heat a little, you remain strong. Seeing that, he sighs, then stands, heading for the bathroom, leaving the door open as he dramatically turns on the shower, sending you enticing looks over his shoulder as he does so.

Once he finally gets in, you pull yourself out of bed, moving over to your carry-on. Thankfully, you’d packed a couple of outfit choices, not knowing what to expect. Choosing the most suitable, something casual and yet attractive, you get dressed, then realize you’re going to need the bathroom to fix your hair and do your makeup.

“I’m coming in,” you call, toiletry bag in hand. It only takes a second for his head to pop out from behind the shower curtain, excitement diminishing once he sees you’re dressed.

“Oh,” he says. “I thought you meant into the shower. But I guess not.”

“Stop it, you,” you say, turning on the sink to wash your face, and he laughs.

You’re almost finished with your makeup when the shower turns off, Diavolo stepping out a moment later with the towel low on his hips. You studiously ignore him, applying mascara with more focus than necessary. He doesn’t let that slide, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

“You better not get me wet,” you warn, switching to your setting powder.

“I won’t,” he says, and you turn your head slightly, giving him a look from the corner of your eye. His chin rests on your shoulder, and when you turn, your faces are mere inches apart. Diavolo hugs you tighter, kissing you, and you’re glad you haven’t applied lipstick yet.

“Alright, alright, get off of me,” you say after a moment, a small smile crossing your lips. “Unless you want to have to take another shower.”

“Cruel woman,” Diavolo bemoans, but does as you say, disappearing into the other room to get dressed. He returns a moment later, in dark jeans and a t-shirt, one that displays the Dogs’ logo.

“You can’t be serious,” you say as he combs through his hair with his fingers.

“What?”

“Team merch, really?”

He cracks an attractive smile, mirth dancing in his eyes. “Of course. I’ve gotta represent, you know.”

You can only shake your head.

As you’re putting on your shoes, there’s a knock on the door. Diavolo answers it, revealing Barbatos.

“Oh, good, you’re both decent,” Barbatos says mildly, and you give him a glare. “We’re all headed downstairs.”

“We’re ready,” Diavolo says and you stand, making sure you have your purse. You all walk down to the lobby, Diavolo’s hand in yours the whole way.

“How are you feeling?” Simeon asks at one point, voice quiet.

“Nervous,” you reply honestly. “You?”

“Nervous,” he echoes. “But I think it’ll be fine. I’m excited to see Raphael and the others again.”

“I am too,” you agree. “It’ll be nice to catch up. Especially before we kick their asses tomorrow.”

Simeon laughs. “I like the way you think.”

As you get closer to the bar where you’re all meeting up, you can’t deny that your hands get a little sweaty and your stomach starts to knot. You know the worst thing you'll find is a shit-ton of awkwardness (or at least that’s what you really hope), and that once you see it through it’ll ease, but you’re still not super keen on putting yourself in the situation.

Ten minutes, you tell yourself, then things will be fine. Plus, you’ll have Diavolo and Simeon by your side and all the other boys to make distractions and break the ice.

Diavolo squeezes your hand as you enter the bar, and immediately, your eyes find the familiar sight of Raphael’s ash-colored hair. You gulp; there’s no turning back now.

“Hey!” Mammon calls out easily, and the boys turn. You recognize some others aside from Raphael, and thankfully a few have brought their wives, making it less awkward that you’re there and also giving you a breath of relief because you were familiar with them.

Raphael’s eyes lock onto yours, then sharpen on you and Diavolo’s linked hands. There’s no animosity in them, just that same awkward cautiousness you feel, another relief.

“Hey, come join us,” Raphael says, gesturing to the rest of the table. The bar staff, or maybe the Chols, had pushed a few tables together, making a monster table to fit the mishmash of people. You pull out a seat between Simeon—who’s across from Raphael—and Diavolo, who lets go of your hand as you sit. You smile at the girl across from you, not recognizing her.

“Hi,” you greet the table at large, among various other greetings being given. “It’s nice to see you all again, and nice to meet you, those I haven’t met yet.”

The girl across from you smiles at that, introducing herself as Thirteen, the main goalie’s sister.

“So, uh, how goes the season?” Raphael asks Simeon awkwardly. “You miss us yet?”

Simeon laughs. “Miss your snoring? Nah, not really. And the season’s going great, obviously. I’m glad you guys made it this far too, it’ll be fun to put you in your place.”

“Starting the chirping already?” Diavolo asks him, throwing an arm across your shoulders. “Careful, Simeon, I think we’re outnumbered here.”

“You’ve changed, Simeon,” Raphael says. “I think the Dogs are rubbing off on you. Anyway, MC, how have you been? Business going well?”

“Oh, yeah, your designs for this season are killer,” Thirteen adds before you can answer. “I mean, the font change for the Dogs’ numbers was such a good touch.”

“Oh, thank you,” you laugh. “I’m surprised anyone picked up on that! It’s such a small detail but really impacts the overall vibe of the Jerseys.”

Awareness dawns on Diavolo. “Wait. Are you talking about the team jerseys? As in, the jersey designs?”

“Bingo,” you say slyly. “My job: designing jerseys for sports teams. Mostly hockey teams.”

“I forgot you guys didn’t know,” Simeon says. “Yeah MC’s like, totally in charge of the jerseys. Remember the Veterans Day design? I helped with that.”

“Barely,” you snort.

“You’re serious,” Diavolo mumbles. “How did I not know that?”

You shrug. “Well, I didn’t mention it when we first met and it hasn’t really come up since. Anyway,” you turn back to Raphael, unable to hide your amused smile, “yeah, business is going well! Thanks for asking. How’s that knee been?”

“Oh, you know,” Raphael shrugs. “I’ve been more careful this season since I don’t have someone to nurse me back to health.” His ears steadily turn red as he realizes what he just said, and you’re sure you’re no better.

“Well,” you begin, but thankfully Simeon cuts in.

“You were always lucky with that. Lately, MC just throws an ice pack at me. No sympathy, I swear!”

“That’s because your injuries are all your fault,” you criticize. “Never stops when he should, this guy.”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I’m getting something from the bar. Raphael, you want something?”

They both head for the bar, and you sigh, slumping in your seat. Diavolo leans over to you, eyes concerned but also accusing.

“I guess we’ll talk about the jersey thing later,” he says, quirking his lips slightly. “I’m sure the team will be very interested to hear. Who knows, maybe they’ll have some design input.”

“Oh, god,” you say quickly. You hadn’t even considered that. “You’d better not tell them, I swear! I’ll kick your ass if you do.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he assures you, laughing. “But seriously, I can’t believe I’ve never known that. Now I feel like a bad person for not knowing something so basic. And also kind of like an idiot. I guess I just thought you were acquainted with the upper staff through me when it was really through your own work. Self-centered, much?”

“Really, Diavolo, it’s fine,” you assure him. “I was aware you didn’t know, even taking care to avoid bringing it up at the beginning. Now you do know, so you can stop feeling bad about it. And I’m sorry if you feel betrayed, that wasn’t my intention.”

“No, no,” he hastens. “It just reminds me how much I still have to learn about you.”

“Well, there’s lots and lots of time for that,” you reply, and he smiles, something in his eyes easing. You really hadn’t intended to hurt him with this and now just feel like an asshole. “And I have so much to learn about you, too. But I’m looking forward to it.”

Realizing how rude you’re being to Thirteen, perhaps at the same time, you and Diavolo turn back to her. So lost in your own world, you hadn’t realized Solomon had taken Raphael’s empty seat, now engaged in some fiery debate.

“Let’s stay out of that one,” Diavolo murmurs to you, as Solomon starts using four-syllable words he only pulls out when he’s trying to academically shame someone, and you nod.

Instead, you and Diavolo split up, talking to various people around the room. It’s nice for you to check in on the Chols’ players and their wives and partners, and they seem just as happy to see you. Any worries of tension (to you or to Simeon) disappear quickly, and you find yourself interacting with them just like you used to. One look at Simeon shows he’s faring well, surrounded by teammates old and new.

Warmth expands in your heart and you grab another drink from the bar, just happy to be with the people you love and care for.

(Your eyes find Diavolo as you think that, and though you don’t particularly care to dig into the sentiment, you find yourself comfortable with it all the same.)

Raphael finds you, eventually, offering another beer as a peace offering. You take it, looking at the man you used to love so dearly. You still love him, but only as a friend. Something settles in your chest at the confirmation of what you’d been suspecting: any lingering feelings for him have fully dissipated and you’re ready to move on. Fully.

He seems to realize this, and you suspect that he feels much the same way. The memories between you will hold a special place in your heart forever, sometimes even hurt, but you don’t regret the time you’ve spent with him. You only regret that you hadn’t met Diavolo sooner.

“You’ve got yourself a real catch,” he says, a little sleepily in the way you know to mean he’s slightly inebriated. Not too much, of course, but socially, as are most of the players. “I’m glad to see you’re doing well.”

“Thank you,” you say. “I’m glad, you’re doing well too, Raphael. Congrats again on making it this far this season. Your playing has been incredible.”

“You’ve been watching?”

You sigh softly. “How could I not? Especially at the beginning of the season, when all I was doing was missing you. Guys. You guys. The Dogs are great, of course, but I can’t lie. They were a little intimidating at the beginning.”

He laughs. “You should see them on the ice.”

“Oh, I can imagine.”

A silence, soft and fragile like an early spring day falls between you two, and you give him one more smile. “I’ll see you around, yeah? Don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t,” he promises, and you both exchange one more look, laying it all to rest, before you float off to find Diavolo, who’s conversing with Lucifer and one of the rookies from the Chols.

“Everything alright?” he asks, pulling you into his side, pressing his cheek to the top of your head.

“Yeah,” you say, leaning into him. “Everything’s alright.”

∙

Excitement bubbles through your veins as you take your seat, one similar in position to the one you have at the Dogs’ home rink, basically on the ice and near the team box. The only difference is that you’re on the away side instead of the home, allowing you to continue to sit near the Dogs.

As a personal guest of the Captain, you’d been offered a plush VIP box but had declined, preferring to get down and dirty in the thick of things as you always had.

Diavolo’s name sits proudly across your shoulders—his real jersey, not a replica sold to fans—and you inhale the spicy scent of his cologne (yeah, you’d asked to borrow it to spray on the jersey, so what), reveling in the electric feeling filling the arena. Though many of the fans are in the white and light blue of the Celestial City Chols, quite a fair amount of black and red can be seen throughout the crowd, showing the many diehard fans who’d made the trip across the country. The only similarities between the teams’ color schemes are the gold accents, glittering and shining under the harsh overhead lighting.

Everyone is excited for this game. Not only is it the last deciding game in the finals, the one that will determine who will take the freaking Calder Cup home, but it’s also between two rival teams. Two rival teams that are both determined to work themselves to the bone, pouring blood, sweat, and tears into winning (though not all of it their own, knowing the Dogs). It’s going to be a game that’ll go down in AHL history.

The minutes tick by and finally both teams take the ice for warm-up. The boys wave and smile, Mammon taking care to be an ass and send a puck right towards your face, as has become his pre-game ritual, but you really only have eyes for Diavolo.

Diavolo, who looks hot as hell in your championship jerseys (white, with red, gold, and black accents), who blows you a kiss as best he can around his mouthguard, who looks like he’s ready to lead his team to a very satisfying and devastating victory.

You would swoon but instead settle for yelling and screaming just as loud as the rest of the arena.

After the starting lineup is announced, with much more pomp and circumstance than the other games, and the national anthem is finished, you sit on the edge of the seat, watching as the ceremonial puck is dropped. It’s very nice and all, but you’re ready for the game to begin.

After what feels like forever, it finally does, and you watch as Raphael and Simeon face one another, kitty-corner. It’s surreal, after so many seasons of watching them play the same line. Diavolo and Lucifer aren’t far behind the forwards, and every member of both teams is completely and utterly focused on the puck.

The arena is so silent you could hear a pin drop as the music fades, and in a clatter of skates and sticks on ice, the puck is dropped. The Chols gain possession, the center sending the puck back to the left d-man, who sends it to the left winger smoothly. The Dogs don’t take that lying down, and chase after the puck. Levi gets there first, and manages to take the puck, passing it to Solomon, who forges a blazing trail down the ice. Amidst the various cheering and booing, you think, perhaps delusionally, you can make out Thirteen’s unique tone, screaming out her displeasure.

The Chols d-men are frustratingly persistent, and what follows is several minutes of back and forth, with both teams failing to make a goal. Shots are attempted by both sides, but are all blocked by the goalie or intercepted by other team members, and when Beel finally gets the puck in his glove, you let out a sigh of relief that they’re all able to take a break. You watch as the players all assemble for an end zone face-off, one that the Dogs win. Both teams are playing viscous and dirty, with checks rattling the boards all around.

“Get it out of there!” you scream, as yet another attempted goal shot is made, and as if they hear you, the forward line, which is now Mammon, Asmo, and Satan, push back towards the Chols’ goal. A brief scuffle near the defending line takes place, and the ref whistles, calling offsides on the Chols.

The first period passes without any goals, despite both teams' desperate pushing. Though neither side scores, you know it’ll only be a matter of time in the second, as the Dogs have been gaining momentum as the night goes on.

You whistle at the boys as they make their way from the bench to the locker room and Diavolo grins up at you, pulling off his helmet. He’s sweaty and out of breath, but handsome as all get out, and you’ve never been prouder to be bearing his name on your back.

When the teams finally return after the break, you’re back on your feet, cheering as they take the ice. The Dogs gain possession of the puck in the first face-off, heading the opposite way than they had been previously due to the goal switch, unstoppable. Asmo, who has the puck, leaves the other team in the dust, zipping through and shooting in the blink of an eye. It goes in, as you’d hoped, prayed, suspected, and the roar of the crowd is thunderous. You can’t help but imagine what it’d be like in your home arena, in your home city.

And it's odd. Sometime, over the course of the season, the Devildom had truly become your home. It’s not a shocking thing, by any means, but serves to make you cheer that much louder and clap that much harder.

With a goal under their belts, the Dogs have a new fire lit beneath them. But the Chols aren’t giving up easily, and once Raphael checks Simeon hard across the boards in front of you. He’s a fearsome one when it comes to that, known even during his rookie days for his painfully-placed and technically legal elbow placements, and you wonder if the smile that had been shot your way was purposeful. Simeon skates it off impressively, though you know he’ll be aching later.

Diavolo does a great job staying on top of defense, and you’re aware of that same ease between him and Lucifer that you’d picked up on during their very first game together. You’d gotten to know Lucifer well during the season, and you make a mental note to yourself to take extra care when making his ‘good job on winning the Cup’ basket, to thank him for being such a great friend and partner to Diavolo.

When the two of them go back to the bench, switched out by Barbatos and Belphie, Diavolo waves at you in between great big gulps of water, and you make sure to take lots of pictures when you can tear your eyes from the game.

The CC Chols score as well during the second period, tying them up as they go into the third. Though you’d think they’d all be quite tired, neither team is flagging, both playing and pushing hard. The Chols get another goal in, unfortunately, when Beel’s just a tad too slow, and you’re once again aware you’re in the fan minority as the crowd goes wild.

They stay in the lead for several heart-pounding minutes, and apparently fed up with the tension, Mammon drops gloves, firecracker personality on full display. He gets the Chol player into a headlock, raining punches down onto him until he’s pulled off by the refs, much to the crowd’s disappointment. That gets him a few minutes in the sin bin, and you groan, knowing what a disadvantage the Dogs are at. The last thing they need is to be two down in the final period!

Diavolo rallies the team, showing his incredible skill and prowess as a captain, and thankfully, the Chols are unable to use the power play to their advantage, and Mammon skates back onto the ice like a hellcat.

Gameplay is stopped again after elbowing is called towards a Chols player, and you cheer as he gets some time in the box. Unlike the Chols, the Dogs score on their play, tying it all back up. Satan manages to scare and gets piled on by the team, and for once, he’s not pushing them back, a rare smile lighting up his face.

The end of the period draws nearer and nearer, and yet neither team pulls ahead. Anxiety and excitement are racing through you, and you continue to scream out your support, even as your voice grows hoarse.

Will this game go into overtime? That almost never happens in a finals game like this!

But as you resign yourself to the possibility, Simeon takes possession of the puck, passing it to Solomon, who goes to take a shot, and upon realizing he doesn't have a clear one, gives it right back. Simeon doesn’t hesitate, finely honed instincts taking over, and delivers it into the net with only a few minutes left of play. You scream, cheering as loud as you can, and the celly that follows is almost disrespectful, lasting a bit too long.

Though the Chols don’t give up, they're unable to get another point before the buzzer sounds, and you can hardly believe it. The Dogs won! Your team won the fucking Calder Cup!

The boys celebrate in the ice, hefting Simeon up and onto their shoulders and Diavolo takes the cup and delivers it right into his waiting gloves. Simeon hefts it, grinning and crying, and you feel yourself crying too, unable to believe how far he’s gotten, the monumental feat he’d just completed.

Diavolo’s eyes find yours, and hastily, he skates for the bench, fitting on his skate guards sloppily. As if he expected it, the door attendant pulls open the door to the dating section, still blocked by the metal gate, and you reach for him through the bars, glad they’re wide enough for you to pull him close by the pads and kiss him long and hard. Fans around you boo and scream, but you’re lost in your own world, lost in him.

“I love you,” Diavolo says as he pulls away, breathing heavily. He’s crying too, but his smile is ear-to-ear, and you pull him in again, peppering kisses all over his cheeks, nose, and forehead, overwhelmed by your joy.

“I love you too,” you say, and finally, someone opens the gate between you, and Diavolo lifts you up into a hug, kissing you again. You hear camera shutters and see flashbulbs go off and have no doubt your image will be all over articles and social media posts by tomorrow, but can’t bring yourself to care. Eventually, Simeon joins you, and you break from Diavolo to hug him tightly, both of you breaking down fully into sobs.

Diavolo lets you have your moment with your best friend, but Simeon’s soon stolen away by members of the team and you’re all shepherded out of the stands and off the ice so the boys can do their post-game photos and interviews and the like. Diavolo hesitates to pull away, but you shove him along, smiling.

“Go,” you say. “I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

“I love you,” he says again, a little helplessly.

“I know.”

How did you get so lucky, with this man, this team, this life? You watch the boys, heart bursting, and can’t wait to support them for their next season as well.

Although, not before you and Diavolo do everything you want during the offseason, including traveling and exploring, putting some of both of your accumulated wealth to good use. You’ve heard the Maldives are pretty this time of year, and nice and relaxing for Diavolo to recover. And private, you think with relish. The hotel you pick will be private. Very, very private.

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healix17 · 3 months ago

Text

Here's my late aft MegOp fanfiction.

Day 3 Ritual/Surrender

Conjunx Rite of the Emperors

In an alternative universe where there were no Autobots and no war to trouble them, Emperor Megatron ruled Cybertron with strength and wisdom. Optimus Prime, a noble and respected mech, found himself in Megatron's orbit. After a passionate one-night stand, Megatron, captivated by Optimus' spirit and grace, proposed, and they soon found themselves preparing for a grand Conjunx Ritus ceremony.

(⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

The grand hall shimmered with the brilliance of Cybertronian crystals, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the gathered guests. Optimus Prime stood before a mirror, his polished armor gleaming, nerves fluttering in his spark. His attire was elegant, crafted with care, and adorned with intricate designs symbolizing unity and love.

Alpha Trion, Codexa, and Termagax, seated in the front row, exchanged proud glances. Their sons had grown into remarkable mechs, and this union was a testament to their journeys and growth.

A deer-like young mech approached the altar, delicate and graceful. In his hands, he carried a vessel of silver paint, a traditional element of the Conjunx Ritus, symbolizing purity and an eternal bond.

Megatron, regal and composed, stood at the altar, his optics never leaving Optimus as he approached. His spark swelled with love and determination, recalling the night they first connected, the moment that led them here.

The officiant began the ceremony, his voice resonating through the grand hall. "Today, we gather to witness the union of Optimus Prime and Emperor of Cybertron, Megatron in the sacred Conjunx Ritus. This silver paint symbolizes the purity and eternity of their bond."

Optimus and Megatron turned to face each other, their optics locking in a moment of shared emotion. They exchanged vows, their voices steady and filled with love.

"Optimus Prime," Megatron began, "From the moment we met, I knew you were the one who completed me. Your strength, wisdom, and compassion have brought light to my life. I vow to stand by you, to protect you, and to cherish you for all of eternity."

Optimus' optics shimmered. "Megatron, you have shown me a love I never knew existed. Your courage, your passion, and your unwavering spirit have captured my spark. I vow to stand by you, to support you, and to love you for all of eternity."

The officiant nodded, lifting the vessel of silver paint. "With this paint, we mark the bond that unites you as Conjunx Endura, bound in mind, spark, and body."

The young mech approached, dipping a brush into the silver paint and delicately applying it to Optimus and Megatron's forehelms. The paint shimmered, a symbol of their eternal bond.

The officiant continued, "If there are any who object to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Megatron's closest soldiers stood at the ready, their optics scanning the crowd, weapons discreetly prepared. The hall remained silent, a testament to the respect and acceptance of their union.

Megatron have them a bombastic side optic. A criminal offensive side optic.

Megatron let out a sigh of relief, glancing at Optimus with a soft smile. Optimus chuckled softly, amused by the lengths Megatron would go to protect their love.

The officiant smiled. "Then, by the power vested in me, I declare you Conjunx Endura. You may now seal your bond with a kiss."

As their lips met, the hall erupted in applause, a celebration of love and unity. Alpha Trion, Codexa, and Termagax beamed with pride, their sparks filled with joy.

Hand in hand, Optimus and Megatron left the altar, ready to face their future together. The night was filled with laughter, joy, and the promise of a new beginning. As they danced their first dance as a married couple, surrounded by loved ones, they knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, their bond would remain unbreakable.

♡⁠(⁠>⁠ ⁠ਊ⁠ ⁠<⁠)⁠♡

In the quiet moments that followed, as they stood together, watching the stars from a balcony, Optimus leaned into Megatron's embrace. "I never imagined my life would lead here, but I couldn't be happier."

Megatron tightened his hold, his optics softening. "Neither did I, but with you by my side, I feel like I can conquer anything."

Their sparks pulsed in harmony, a rhythm of love and unity, as they faced the vast expanse of their future, together.

ෆ⁠╹⁠ ⁠.̮⁠ ⁠╹⁠ෆ

Again sorry if it took so long, I just couldn't think of anything.

#megop #transformers #tf aligned #optimus prime #bayverse megop #movie megop #bayverse Optimus prime #Bayverse Megatron #megop week 2024

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jomamaofficial · 2 years ago

Text

An Empty Vessel pt.1 (Dabi x Preganant!Reader Dark Angst)

A/N: Hehe, hello my lovely toes. MY FANFIC WENT THROUGH THE LAST ROUND OF BETA READING SO HAHA, I CAN PUBLISH IT NOW. I urge you all to read the TWs and CWs because I may have gone a bit overboard hehe. As always, my Ask Box is open for any requests or just a conversation. I would love to give back to our little community here. Please remember to take care of yourselves, and enjoy. As always, I would love to see your thoughts in the comments :). TW: Pregnancy, vague desire for a forced Abortion, Domestic Abuse, Strangulation, Burning, mentions of Bleeding from a finger cut (from cooking probably). CW's: Heavy SFW, SPOILER: Season 6, Dabi’s backstory, Swearing, Mentions of Sexual acts (Birth Control, Pull-out method; nothing graphic has been described), Intimate acts (kissing, making out), Mentions of Bleeding from a finger cut (reader was cooking). Masterlist Edit: Part 2 😩😩. Edit: Part 3. Word Count: 3537 Summary: You were Dabi’s stress release; he would long for the night to come, but refused to take things ‘too far’. He’d wait for you in secret, but he wouldn’t dare show you any affection outside of the designated odd hours. How you longed to change it. How you longed to confess your love for a man who never used your name. So when you found out you were 3 months pregnant, you hoped your unborn baby would bring you closer to your unrequited love.

——————————————————————————————————

Averting your eyes from the scarred man sat across the table from you, you took a deep breath, clenching your jaw. You sat there, alone with your thoughts, loud enough to drown your boss’ voice.

Your thumb rubbed circles on your wrist, comforting the sting that was lingering underneath. Your hand craved the warmth of another; so when it received a burn instead, the hand mistook that pain for love. Because he gave you so much warmth that your weak skin gave way until it blistered, glowing a pretty red. All you wanted was a hand to hold, a hand that would grasp yours and caress the skin atop; so when he groped your supple skin, digging his nails inside your thigh, leaving tiny crescents that decorated the soft surface, your body mistook the pain for love. Because he held you so tightly. Because he didn’t want to let go.

Those were the tender moments where he gave you more than you asked for.

And you hated that they were enough to make you clutch onto a thin rope of hope. A hope that you hated because it was destined for disappointment.

Even though his eyes held spite and his mouth a snarl as he slapped your hand away, stalking ahead, you only clutched harder onto that decaying rope.

His simple acts led to a thousand thoughts, which led to a thousand headaches, which left you wondering why you felt so deeply for a man who wouldn’t even hold your hand in public.

It was just heated gazes; his eyes, half-lidded, boring into yours, finding that special spot deep in your core which always sent hot, velvety haze onto the surface.

He was the only person in this shithole that made you feel alive.

When you first walked into the hideout, you never expected to feel so strongly towards a stranger sprawled in the corner, hands in his pockets with a cigarette lazily placed in his mouth, shoulders hunched and eyes lifeless.

At first, you rolled your eyes and scrunched your nose at the wisps of smoke that loitered around his presence.

Just another faceless person in the crowd, you told yourself; his sole purpose was to dip in and out of your life without a second thought.

And then as the days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, you added a second purpose for him: to always have a cigarette when you needed it.

And you began craving cigarettes all the time.

You convinced yourself you felt nothing towards the scarred man who waltzed into your life. He was just your nicotine supplier and that was the only thing that drew you to him. It was always the cigarettes, never the person.

But after you found yourself on the roof, puffing your stress away with his body pressed against yours, his corruption seeping into your pure bloodstream, it was clear that you were addicted to him. Not the nicotine that he filtered through his sinful body.

Your entire life shaped itself to lead that of a villain. A villain who worked mindlessly. A villain that had no goals or dreams of their own. Just an underling that satisfied their boss.

It was a methodical and vapid life and it left a bitter taste in your mouth. A bitter taste that sweetened when you felt his lips on yours.

Your personal life and your work life were blending with each other, mixing until you had no sense of which was which.

He was disgusting. He had no respect.

With his poorly box-dyed black hair framing his hollow cheeks, and his stupid piercings which completed his empty face. They glistened around his leering eyes, which followed you in the comfort of your own thoughts; he should be disgusting. Because his grafts were also disgusting– a deep shade of purple which creased around the corners of his eyes when he flashed you a subtle smirk. They had darker lesions, with staples pressed against them holding him together. And sometimes, they wept in blood, slipping down his pale skin– his disgusting dead skin– so thickly.

Everything about him was disgusting. But his sore grafts enhanced his winter skin, cold like a gentle snowflake, a delicate crystal. And his hair was an abyss, sucking you in, coaxing you to find beauty in his pretty eyes that held stories you wished to find out as you lay your head in his lap, his scarred hands brushing through your hair.

So when his knee was grinding against you, you helplessly rutted back against it to feel closer to the man who nipped your lips, the taste of ash draining into your mouth. There was a certain hunger behind his touch that threatened to burst.

And you just wanted to feed him.

His hands slid down to your thighs, groping the bare flesh. He pinched them and kneaded them within his own hands, picking at the flesh to press and bruise them.

Your mouth opened in a silent cry and he trailed down to your neck, peppering messy kisses on your skin. Your chest heaved up and down as you lowered your eyes to desperately find his. But they were hidden, grounded to your neck, inspecting the marks he left on you.

But something was wrong.

There wasn’t any love, or compassion, or care. There was only possessiveness.

Possessiveness that made you shiver and shrink. Possessiveness that stripped you bare and vulnerable to his prying cerulean eyes. His clouded gaze scanned every piece of untouched flesh your body had to offer. He ignored your loving eyes. He just wanted to see the marks you would conceal the next morning.

A long deliberate finger made its way down your neck, grazing past the suckled bruises.

One finger turned into a full grasp, a grasp that lingered on your chest. A visceral shiver tore through your delusion, and suddenly that grasp lingered for too long.

Something was wrong.

“Stop it!”, you screamed, arm quivering over the place he touched you. His blue eyes remained frozen, devoid of any expression.

You pushed his hovering body away from yourself, watching his glare settle on you.

It was the first time he looked at you today.

Your head leaned against the cold wall, pressing on it in a failed attempt to stop the dull throb spreading within. The coolness soothed the ghostly thoughts that stung your body with an icy warning.

Dabi turned his head towards the sliver of twilight peeking out from behind the curtains. His tongue pressed against his cheek, plucking his cigarette he tucked behind his pierced ears. He placed it in between his pierced lips, inhaling as he lit the cigarette with his flames.

His eyes relaxed, closing as he exhaled a stream of smoke into your face.

He tapped the shaft of the cigarette, embers of tobacco burning through the thin white sheets you lazily spread.

“You want me to stop”.

It was the first time he directly spoke to you today.

“I’m so sorry Dabi, I-”

“You think I’m so fucking disgusting, don’t ya?” he spat, his eyes burning through his hooded lids.

“Dabi just listen to me, that’s not what it is, I just-”

He put his cigarette out on your thigh, the heat pricking through the layers of your skin until it incinerated your nerves, leaving a phantom itch on the burn.

He branded a perfect circular shape near your hip.

“Ya hate it that I’m tainting your perfect little skin? Your fucking perfect little skin that ya spend hours scrubbin’ and oilin’ like a dumb bimbo?”

“Dabi, please-”

“No, you fuckin’ listen to me”, he stressed, grabbing your cheeks with his bony fingers. “Lil’ preppy bitches like you, with pretty doe eyes, have somethin’ for big bad guys like me, right? That’s why you joined this league, didn’t ya, dollface? To find some broken fucks like me to fix?”

He tightened his grip on you, leaning closer to your face.

“I did a background check on ya, dollface. Quirkless lil’ smart bitch. Up to your ‘Masters’? So why the fuck did you join this league? You had a good life, dollface. So why’d you drag your naive lil’ face into my world? Because you don’t have a single. Bad. Bone. In. Your. Body”.

He punctuated each of those last words with a squeeze, your teeth clenching to prevent him from ripping through your cheeks.

“You wanted to fix me, didn’t ya? Prance around me looking sweet as honey until I dropped my shitty habits and licked the ground that you walked on”.

Your eyes began to water at the pressure and the truthful accusations.

“Yeah, don’t think that I didn’t catch on to ya’ hand sneaking up on me late at night, like some creep. You think I didn’t realise ya’ stupid lovey dovey eyes staring at me across the room? ‘Cause I did dollface, and it fuckin’ disgusted me”.

He let go of your face with a push.

“You want me to be your boyfriend, don’t ya?”, he asked, closing the distance between you two, holding your waist taut against his disfigured chest. “Hold ya’ hand and peck ya on those pouty lil’ lips?”

His voice lowered an octave as he looked down into your glistening wide eyes. You could smell the fresh smoke ensnaring your mind.

“But why would you wanna date someone as disgusting as me, dollface? I make you scream, don't I? Dabi, the big bad wolf?”

His flaming eyes dimmed, like fire without oxygen.

“So tell me, doll. What made you scream like that? Was it my fucked up face? Or was it my slimy hands dirtying your pretty lil’ skin?”

To the untrained ear, he almost sounded sincere. With his deep voice rumbling from his warm chest, your eyes flickered down to his lips.

“I love you, Dabi”.

His eyebrows raised for a split second before his hands pinched the top of his nose bridge.

“I fuckin’ knew it”.

You could feel his chest heave as he let out a deep sigh.

“Doll…”

“I love you so much, Dabi”, you breathed out, closing the distance between your lips by another inch.

He felt a sharp ache in the middle of his brows.

“You’re so beautiful to me”, you whispered, noses touching as you traced the deep shades of the graft on his abdomen. You felt his muscles tensing underneath your distinct touch, your eyes subtly smiling at his reaction.

His reaction towards your touch.

“Every part of you is so delicate and pretty”, you admired, looking up at the man with twinkling eyes, pupils dilated and full.

“Don’t want to change it, Dabi. Don’t want to change you”.

Your voice was so soft. Airy and sweet. A tone so unfamiliar for the raven man who was observing the way the moonlight shyly casted a glow on your face.

“Don’t lie to me doll…”

“I’m not lying”.

You tore away from his eyes, choosing to focus on the inconspicuous indents scratched into your walls. Your hands, frail, shook as your heart and gut imposed on you to finally tell him. Your deepest thoughts that plagued your mind for the longest week.

“I pushed you away because I’m tired of just being a warm body for those cold winter nights… I’m tired of being a dirty secret, Dabi. I love you, but I’m so tired of breaking myself just to give you pieces that you’ll deny the next morning”.

His faint press against your stomach made you breathe a heavy gust of air in.

“I can’t keep on breaking myself. Or else I’ll have nothing to give her”.

You guided his hand over your stomach, tears dropping on his forearm.

Dabi felt his heart spike, shallow breaths escaping his tightening chest.

“You told me you were on birth control,” he said, cutting through the silence, clenching his fist.

“I wasn’t, Dabi”, your breath hitched as you choked on your fear.

“I wasn’t. I told you so many times, asked you so many times to pull out, but you didn’t”.

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

He was silent.

“I found out a week ago. And I’ve been trying to tell you, Dabi… I tried to tell you so many times, but you’d ignore me, Dabi”, you trailed off, body seeking comfort.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling yourself towards him to rest your face in the nook of his neck.

“Toga was playing around with my blood the day I cut my fingers. And she told me… she told me that she could detect a new taste in my blood. At first I thought it was the cigarettes but when she told me she couldn’t transform into my body because there was something blocking her… I asked Kurogiri, and he took me to Ujiko Sensei, and- um”, you gulped, your throat feeling drier. “And I’m three months pregnant, Dabi”.

Your drumming heart settled as you felt his hands close around your waist.

“I was so wrong about ya doll”, he mumbled as he nuzzled his face in the nook of your neck, mimicking your position.

Your heart basked in his grasp, your nails gently scraping down his back.

“I love you, Dabi…”

“I was so fucking wrong about ya…” he said, pulling back from your tight embrace.

He pushed a loose strand of hair behind your ears, his tilted head scanning your face. His right hand travelled up your shoulder, to your cheek. You basked in his touch, cool drops gliding his slender thumb across the plane of your cheek.

“You’re not naive, Y/N”.

That was the first time he said your name.

“You know exactly what you’re doing”.

Your mind was lost in the bare contact you finally received, his words slurred for you.

The war was over. He finally understood you.

“I shoulda known doll… a smart girl like you would wanna fix me in other ways. By turning me into your brat’s daddy”.

Your eyes opened suddenly, your brows ruffling as they met his gaze.

“Dabi-”

“Shut your mouth, doll. It’s only for your benefit”.

You expected his piercing grip. You expected his piercing voice.

“What d’ya think woulda happened, doll? What d’ya want to happen?”

You cowered under his view; your heart was walking on eggshells, unable to bear the constant change.

“I asked you a fuckin’ question, didn’t I? Now use that mouth to answer me before I burn it off”.

You sniffled, your stomach trembling as you tried to speak in full sentences.

“Dabi, we couldn’t continue this if we had her-”

“Couldn't continue what? Use your words,” he interjected, cold as steel.

You felt your head spinning, empty stomach feeling heavy.

“Dabi. We can’t expose our child to this-”

He pulled on your hair, the pressure on your scalp forcing you to pull on his wrists, struggling to pry his hands away.

“Did you not fucking hear me? Use your words”.

“Dabi, please, stop- please”, you pleaded, pulling his wrist with greater force, “please Dabi. I- we can’t expose our baby to the league and these operations, where we go out, half expecting to be killed by the end of it. We can’t tell her we’re villains, we can never let her know, and we can’t be villains anymore Dabi! Just please, I told you- just please let me go”.

He let your hair go when you struggled the most, causing you to stumble back into the wall behind you, intensifying the dull thud into something far more painful.

“And that’s how ya thought you’d fix me, am I right dollface? Get ya’self knocked up with my brat, and drag me outta this?”

He pushed his face into yours, grabbing your hair to pull you closer.

“Becoming a daddy didn’t stop my old man from being a villain, dollface”.

He turned you around, twisting your limbs to his liking until you succumbed, on your knees with your back against his chest. He lifted himself up to his knees, pulling you up by your aching hair, which was twisted in his left hand.

His right hand rose from your waist to your chest. He attached his lips to your cold neck, leaving heated kisses all across the skin.

“Dabi…” you mewled, your body temperature increasing as it battled between two conflicting emotions: you wanted to pull away. Your arm was tensed, longing to strike as his hands claimed your body. You curled into your torso, hiding as much as you can before the man behind you pulled you again, arching your back to his liking. Your hands clutched the thin fabric, your mind too tired to make up its mind. Because his pushing and pulling, his kissing and biting, just the feeling of his skin on your skin ignited such an urge to submit to his ownership. Your hips pushed out to feel his body, your sweaty skin brushing against his rough jeans to feel the electric connection. Your neck exposed itself to his messy kisses, your subconsciousness praying and begging for them to brush past your collarbone.

His right hand rose. As his hand reached your neck to press the side, his lips reached your ear lobe, nibbling on the flesh.

“You know my daddy don’t ya? Pro Hero Endevour? Enji Todoroki, Japan’s number one hero", he drawled out his syllables, spite laced in every inch.

He was a hero to the world but you know what he was to me dollface? A fuckin’ villain to me. Ruined my fuckin’ life so much that it was better when he ignored me. When he ignored his oldest son. When he threw me away for his newest prized possession,” he growled, a low vibration tearing through the chest he rested you on.

“I coulda been one of those heroes dollface…” his voice cracked.

“I wanted to be a hero so fuckin’ bad. If he asked my scrawny ass to do a hundred pushups, I did a hundred fifty. If he asked me to run five miles everyday, I’d run ten. What didn’t I do, doll? You name it. I did everything in the book because all I wanted was to be his first brat to surpass him. He told me I’d surpass him. Told me my flames were stronger than his.”

He was quiet.

“Of course they were. But you know what happened one day, doll?” You felt something warm creep down your shoulder.

“One day, at the doctor’s, I found out that my mommy’s quirk manifested in my regulation system.” He let out a breathy, broken sound.

“You’re smart. You know what that means, don't ya, doll?”

You felt another thick drop slide down the valley of your chest. It was red.

“My mommy's quirk was ice, doll. And you know what you need to tolerate an icy quirk? A hotter body. And you know what that bitch gave me, doll? A hotter body so no heat could ever escape it”. His left hand grabbed yours, lifting it up to his jaw, his graft leathery and sticky.

“You know why I have these, doll? It’s because that woman didn’t let my daddy’s quirk work properly. Her useless quirk took over my ol' man's regulation system. So the doctor told me, if I tried to surpass him, I’d burn myself alive”.

He rejoiced in the sobs he ripped from your throat, his hands shaking as they bled in between the fine lesions.

“He told me I couldn’t train anymore. That I couldn’t be a hero. So he knocked her up again and again because I was so disposable to him. As soon as his second brat was born, he didn’t give a flyin’ fuck about me. He knew he could get rid of me whenever he wanted. And you know what the saddest part is, dollface? I knew that too. I knew from the age of eight that I was gonna get replaced by my lil’ baby brother when he popped outta that useless bitch. He kept us away from that brat, because we were failures. And we could never taint the perfect, youngest Todoroki with our digusting failure”.

Your lips quivered with his, your hearts beating together.

“I was so disposable that he didn’t even bother looking for his eldest son’s dead body after he burned himself to death. So you know what this tells me? It tells me that you’re a fucking idiot. Every woman I’ve known has been a fucking idiot. Because if my old man abused me and ripped me apart until I destroyed myself to prove myself worthy as his son”, he licked the shell of your ear, pressing harder on your throat until he heard your ugly, shallow gasps for air, “and he's still the world’s greatest hero? What makes ya think that I’d become a righteous hero for your fucking brat?”

Your feeble attempt to breathe was music to his ears, a sonorous sound that twirled around in the empty room.

“I love how no one’s here. I love how empty this room is, dollface”.

The undertone of your lips matched his vibrant flames, your eyes feeling heavier and heavier.

“I want you to be like this room, doll”.

Empty.

“I want to turn you into an empty vessel”.

——————————————————————————————————

Keep a look out for Part 2, my angst-loving toes. If you would like me to add you to the taglist, please comment or message me :). Edit: Part 3.

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mushiemellows · 1 month ago

Note

drunken love confessions: frobin, 4

(For Drunken Love Confession prompts, still accepting requests)

"I would love to hear those words in any other place than this bathroom, holding your hair back."

It took a lot to get Franky drunk. He teetered on stilted legs as he wandered from the banquet in the Thriller Bark ruins, plagued by a haze of vague memories of dancing on tables…maybe? He wasn’t sure. The world rocked around him, grass and dirt on an island that was actually a massive castle-boat in the middle of the ocean.

No, that wasn’t right.

He swayed with the world around him, grass and dirt on a ship that he’d built himself moored to a castle-boat-zombie-island-thingy. Franky didn’t quite know how he’s managed to find himself back on Sunny’s deck, but you know what they say. People always come home in the end.

His eyes must have been on the fritz because he couldn’t make out fore from aft. Bunks were in one of the directions…but which one? He didn’t know. Fifty-fifty shot. He liked his odds. The cyborg stumbled into the door on his left with boundless hope for his bed, but was sorely disappointed to be greeted by the cold blues of the aquarium bar. Bright eyes snapped up to greet him, sourced from a shadow backlit by glowing glass. Eyes, hands, legs, lips, bangs, books, boots, bust; all his new favorite little shapes, even if he hadn’t found the right time to tell her just yet.

“Franky?” Robin looked up from the seat with a frown, “is everything alright?”

“��S’isn’t th’guys' room,” Franky slurred with a blink and a spin back toward the exit. He stared at the flat wall, certain that he’d built a door to the bar when he’d designed it. One of his prostheses rose to knock against the boards with a hope that the way out would appear. He mumbled to himself, “where’s th…?”

Two hands manifested out of nowhere at his waist to guide him just three feet to the right and back out onto the deck. He was halfway across the grass when he realized that the hands were attached to a body, one that supported him through his blackout stupor. “A bit too much fun at the party?” The demon under his arm laughed low.

“Nahhhh, m’sup’r.”

“Oh, are you?”

“‘Course I yam, pretty lady! Whud’else would I be?!”

Robin slowed to adjust her grip on his core and her support of his heavy guns. An extra hand blossomed to card through his drooping updo, pushing the fallen tower of turquoise away from bleary eyes. “You’re right,” she smiled, “I don’t know what else you would be.”

“I’m—I—and you, and I, and we, but,” he swayed as they reached the door to the boys’ bunks. Eyes fluttered shut. Internal systems beeped in an alert. Beverage concentration levels had grown dangerous to the carbo-capilary distribution mechanism. He wasn’t built to run on ethanol. “Fuck, uhhhhhh beep beep. ’S too much. Purge mode activated,” Franky rolled off of her and toward the little water closet under the stairs.

“Wait!” She extended a hand, one from herself and one from his shoulder to try and stop him, but it was too late. The cyborg burst through the door and dropped like a steel boulder onto his knees in front of the toilet. Her phantom hand caught his flaccid updo right as he spilled his guts. A night of celebration all came back at once to haunt him, followed by tears of apology and embarrassment. It wasn’t like him to lose his cool, especially in front of a crush.

Franky babbled senselessly into the bowl through each wave of nausea. A garden of hands sprouted all around him to fetch towels and blankets and glasses of water, though one more tangible than the rest knead soft circles into the sensitive skin between his shoulder blades. “‘M sup’r s’rry, d’worry ‘bout me, pretty lady. Y’go back to read’n ya book. Don’t wanna b—,” he attempted before the machine rejected another phase of improper fuel. “—burden ya.”

“Burden? Never,” Robin crooned behind him. Even more hands held his hair out of his face, now tenderly scraping nails along the nape of his neck. His touch wandered to blindly entwine himself in a thousandth comforting limb. Two of his big, prosthetic fingers nestled against her palm. He briefly considered kissing her hand if his mouth didn’t still linger with the taste of phosphoric acid.

“You’re s’fuckin’ nice t’me. I love ya so goddam much, every time I look’atcha I get this funny lil’ feelin’ in my chest and at first I thought’t wuz’a malfunction thingy but I did some testin’ and I realized ‘m all fuckin’sup’r and ’s you. Ya know that? You! ’S fuckin’ wild, huh? But I,” he paused to let loose one more time, “I don’t wanna freak ya out ’n we’re stuck on this’ship togetha ’n I don’t wanna make it weird but I got all these dreams’a bein’ with ya ’n—’n—’n I just know the world’s bett’r with you alive in it. Yeah? Yeah. You’re too nice t’me. So sup’r. Stay with me t’night?”

Robin chuckled as she knelt at his side, pressing one quick kiss against his clammy temple. Real hands pushed his hair back. “Oh, Franky,” she hummed, “I would love to hear those words in any other place than this bathroom in this moment. I’ll stay with you tonight, if only to make sure that you’re safe. The rest we can talk about in the morning once you’ve sobered up. How does that sound?”

Franky smiled, hopeful even through his illness, cheek iced on the porcelain bowl, “yeah, Nico Robin. That sounds sup’r.”

#long post #ficlet #drabble #ik this is longer than a drabble #y'all know I can't be short winded with my frob #one piece #my fic #cyborg franky #frobin #nico robin #answered #alcohol

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cozzzynook · 3 months ago

Note

for a laugh, rodimus gets some custom-made lingerie to wear while he's carrying. drift and ratchet are surprised by how much it turns them on.

Rodimus thinks buying lingerie while he’s carrying would be a funny thing because he doesn’t feel very attractive anymore but he’s not really down in the dumps about it. He decides to make a laugh about it because he expected this to happen since carrying for him would be gaining lots of frame weight since he carries in the tanks and gaining weight has mostly come easy to him so he figured it’d happen.

so when it happens he’s not really too upset outwardly. He either ignores it or makes a joke of it.

so ordering lingerie would definitely be a good joke that makes him feel better since it would be something Drift could find funny because he added crystals to the outfit and Ratchet would get a slight kick from it too since he could do a funny dance that would make the older mech roll his optics.

So when he gets it made, this whole thing came about because Cyclonus ordered his own outfit while carrying Whirl and Tailgates sparklings sitting next to Roddy who was rubbing both their tanks with a heated palm to calm their nausea. When he saw the purchase and Cyclonus noticed he completed his own and gave Rodimus the datapad to do his own.

It took some well known looks from Cyclonus for Rodimus to sigh and agree. He tried making a hasty retreat right after but Cyclonus laid his heavy thigh on Rodimus’s own and kept him trapped until Rodimus gave in and they formed a sparked pile. Sure it was just the two of them since they were the only tank carriers on board but it was nice.

He’d fallen asleep with Cyclonus and woke in his hab confused about how he got there until he felt Drift and Ratchet curled up on both sides of him.

He remembers apologizing for them carrying him when he’s so heavy and thanking them only to get an optic roll from Ratchet and teasing from Drift that they were far heavier. Its not like it wasn’t true, they definitely outclassed him in weight, especially Ratchet who was all solid metal and mesh. But he still felt guilty and tried to make it up to them.

Of course they wouldn’t let him and so he decided the outfit that came a few weeks later would be their gift of carrying his heavy aft to berth. A nice laugh that would hopefully make their spirits lift more than usual before doing something together like going to the movie room or having a funny story at Swerves who included a new carrier drink at the bar just for himself and Cyclonus who were in love with the odd mixture.

Speaking of Swerve’s he rubbed his heavy, still growing tank that rumbled lightly at the thought of the delicious drink and he shifted from looking in the mirror, soft crystals bouncing on his thigh plating and modesty panel. A light tickle of the crystals touching just below his chassis that he rubbed a dull from as he began to try taking the intricate lingerie off when he heard the hab door opening and two sets of pedes entering with his designation echoed in greeting.

He let his em field greet them back and rubbed the sides of his tanks when he felt a slight cramp at standing too long.

He sighed, trying not to waddle as he walked towards the berth only to stop at hearing two intakes of air.

Turning he looked at Drift and Ratchet stand in the doorway frozen at the sight of him.

Their optics didn’t blink or move from his frame as he stood with a servo on his tank and the other in front of him so he could lower himself to the berth.

“Hey,” he laughed a little, “ya like the surprise? Figured it be funny and a nice little haha gift. Consider it my thanks for carrying me back to berth and always being so sweet.”

He smiled a little as he turned towards them, “I would do the funny dance I planned but..well..yeah thats not happenin,” he laughed to himself. Servo still on his tank as he used the other to try unclasping the lower lingerie since he knew it’d be harder once he sat down. He didn’t really want to ask them since they might be tired from their shifts but he was also not gonna make it standing for more than two kliks. So he might as well suck it up and ask.

He was coming to terms with his poor choice in complicated clothing when he noticed neither had said a word.

He looked up not sure what to expect.

The two sporting heavy blushes on their face plates and the obvious strain on their modesty panels was not at all what he thought he’d see.

“Umm..are you guys okay?”

Genuinely he was confused and wisely kept his em field from brushing against theirs as he soothed the internal ache in his chassis and tanks.

“Ratch? Drift?”

He did get a little worried at their long silence and he chanced a few steps towards them with a waddle he couldn’t fight at the moment that seemed to snap them from their trance as they came full force at him.

He yelped with a slight jump that did wonders on wrecking his knee struts and back pain as the two surrounded him wrapping their arms around him and touching wherever their digits could reach as kisses littered his neck cables and frame denting soft bites were growled with an engine rev along his shoulder plating.

“What the..”

He couldn’t get more than that out as the two carefully shuffled him to the berth where they helped lower him and seemed to revel in the relieved sigh he vented at being off his pedes and in their nest.

Ratchet cupped his heavy tanks along side Drift, feeling the wide expanse of metal that housed their growing sparkling as their other servos thumbed at the cloth and crystals wrapped along his frame.

The soft clinging of the jewels made Drifts frame buzz and vibrate with each and every rattle against Rodimus’s warm body and the feeling of his engine purring made something stir to life in Rodimus’s leaking valve.

His modesty panels popped open against his will and for the very first time since his tanks began to grow his valve was fluttering and glowing in patterns that just begged for the two sires of his bitty to come inside him.

He’s feeling them pop his too tight chassis off along with their own modesty plating clicking open just as he opens his optics he didn’t even realize were closed.

Seeing the world tilt as he’s laid on a tiny mountain of pillows feeling digits and two glossas lick along the jewels and mouth at his valve as his tanks sre massaged and soft nips litter his inner thigh plating that turn to dent marks that make his pedes bend and his thighs shift further apart to better feel Drifts glossa slip the crystal inside him as Drift tongues around the jewel and Ratchet sucks his anterior node leaves him a wet, dripping, mess that turns to a full frame shiver when his hips roll at the sudden intrusion he didn’t realize was coming.

He’d been so lost to the pleasure he didn’t realize Drift and Ratchet had him on his side until he was panting and being carefully turned over so they both could slip inside him together with the crystal going further inside until it grazed the soft lining of his swollen node that almost made him overload.

His audial receptors weren’t functioning properly and a quick reset from Ratchet allowed him to hear the sweet moans and words Drift and Ratchet were offering him.

“So worried,” Drift moaned into Ratchets intake as the two kissed and shook feeling their spikes rub together inside Rodimus who was overcome with pleasure he couldn’t do more than inhale and hold onto both mechs.

“Thought something was wrong with ya, but you were just planning to surprise us with yer frame all rounded out and full,” Ratchet groaned with that deep tone as he rutted inside and pushed the tip of his spike against Drifts and Rodimus could feel them both leaking inside making the deep pressure build.

“You look so beautiful Roddy, covered in one of my favorite crystals and you remembered. Choosing crystals of fertility, you really were listening,” and even on the verge of overload Rodimus couldn’t help sending a feeling of caring and cherish to Drift who more than deserved it and so much more.

“Had us worried but ya just wanted to buy time till you were really showin. Undeniable proof of us inside you,” Ratchet growled with his engine, speeding up using a rough pace that Drift matched in his own way as his optics hazed with adoration, lust, boundless emotions Rodimus’s overcharged and insecure processor could not keep up with that Ratchets pounding em field could.

“I’m not lettin either of you leave this berth until we’ve overloaded inside you so much you get sparked all over again.”

And it was a possibility.

Rodimus’s tanks actually could do that since he was just that fertile and held a second forge tank that just wasn’t as strong as the one currently in use. It was still very possible though and he’s realizing maybe Ratchet isn’t just using berth room talk with how Drift lifts his leg to put him in a better breeding position.

His whines aren’t out of rejection to the idea, his tears aren’t just from being wanted and still seen as attractive. His overload at feeling the two delve deeper doesn’t stop until they’ve coated his insides a glowing sticky mess and they’re both resting their forehelms together and venting to regulate frame temperature.

His overload is overwhelming and even after it stops his tears do not and he can try passing his constant sobs that keep going moments after the two have regained themselves and can better think and move while he cannot. He can try covering his face plate with his servos to hide himself and stifle his sobs. Try to get the words, “hormones,” that refuse him to their audials as they look concerned for him after sharing a look and processing his earlier words of this being a joke gift instead of an actual gift.

He can try lifting himself as he sobs so he can cry alone where no one will see his pitiful state and unflattering moment thats existed from the moment he could no longer see his pedes or wake without being exhausted and heavy.

Rodimus can try but it does him no good as he can’t lift himself without their help and they go against his wish to hide and flee. They go against his lies of it being hormones and shatter his hopes of keeping insecurities secret.

They finally see through the walls he built with camouflage and hold him in their arms as he sobs trying to put the broken pieces together that just won’t fit anymore. Drift and Ratchet won’t let it as soft words are given and delicate touches become necessity.

“Please don’t hide from us,” he’s held in comforting arms that don’t stray from the parts he knows unflattering.

Soft hummed words and caresses take him apart and Rodimus is still sobbing but his cries are known. His pain is worked and smoothed in two servos that can’t ever live in a time where he’s not happy alongside them and it takes time.

But eventually his tears become sobs and those sobs turn to whines that become soft kisses to eventual spark merging.

I’m sorry. I know this is a happy post but my brain went this way. Hope you and everyone else enjoys

#transformers #rodimus prime #rodimus #ratchet #drift #rodimus x drift #idw rodimus #ratchet x drift #idw drift #drift x rodimus x ratchet #ratchet x rodimus x drift #mechpreg #insecurity

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stickytrigger69 · 1 year ago

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OK OK STAYING ANON FOR THIS FOR SURE this request is so cheesy but i need nsfw fluff of idw soundwave since hes so hard to find fanfic of 😩 but anyways, IDW Soundwave making love to femme cybertronian reader after they became Conjunx Endura? (basically Conjunx Endura is IDW transformers version of marriage) I mean more intimate and loving than lustful but it still can be, just more on loving spectrum. Preferably in the spooning position while Soundwave whispers sweet-nothings into her audio processor as he moves in and out of her, knowing that he’s hers and she’s his as he kisses her jawline.

(in the comics, its canon that he has a mouth! i forget the names of the comics but we see him without his maskplate)

anyways i know this request was super cheesy 🧍‍♀️ but ye, i read your previous fanfic and thought that your writing is just so amazing <3

IDW Soundwave x Femme Cybertronian Reader

I fucking love this

Fluffy and Loving NSFW

Married life ^v^

Reader and Soundwave are conjunx endurae and have been for a few years already.

Readers frame, paint job, height, etc. are unspecified.

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

The berth is so comfortable and warm. The soft thermal sheets and pillows. Not to mention the warm frame of your dearest. He is most often in this position, cuddling you from behind. Frame curved perfectly to yours. Your aft pressed perfectly into his hips. He wakes up like this. It is the middle of the night, and as his optics focus, he gets a clear view of the back of your helm. His arm around your waist, his servo caresses your abdomen, feeling the smooth plating before he starts feeling you up. Servo just beneath your chest plate.

His servo moves down to your waist, feeling the curvature of your hips. Within a few seconds, he feels his own plating begin to heat up. He uses his digits to caress you, rubbing and pinching at your hips and tribulen. How has he ended up with such a beautiful conjunx? That's so perfect. It amazes him that you chose him over any other bot. You willingly chose a decepticon over an autobot. He is constantly filled with love from your EM field and your frame. Most of your love sessions are sweet and vanilla. Other times, he's frustrated and uses you. You haven't once told him to stop before. In fact, you've spurred him on, wanting it harder and faster. The last time you did anything with each other, it was short-lived. Thus, he has been pent up for the past couple of solar cycles.

That doesn't mean he wants to just pound you until you're spike drunk. He's actually feeling lazy right now. His spike slowly pressurizes behind his panel. He keeps fondling you and puts his face in the crook of your neck. He watches your face as he pinches at your side with a smile on his face.

"(designation)," He whispers to you before pecking at your cheek, "wake up, my love. I want you." He continues to plant kisses on your neck and jaw and face. Slowly, you release a groan, feeling his servos roaming over your body. His touches are soft and slow tonight while he's gently grinding his hot panel against your aft.

"Mmm," without a second thought, you push yourself back to rub your aft on him, "Yes, please, my spark." You hum seductively. He uses his other arm to prop himself up so he can turn your upper body more towards him so he can see you better. He leans down and kisses you, derma locking together as his servo reaches further down to rub at your panel while you continue grinding on each other. You lift a leg up so he has better access.

His digits skillfully rub at all your sweet spots that make you arch your back. You're still sleepy, but this feels so good. You moan into his intake as your panel hisses and slides away. You choose only to reveal your valve this time. He smirks into the kiss and starts rubbing at your valve lips, and you twitch every so slightly. He rubs your node softly and then returns his attention to your folds. His leg scoots under the one you've been holding up so he can slide down a little to get a better angle. Within seconds, you feel his hot plating against your valve lips, and you arch your back a bit more to try rubbing yourself against him.

Your valve aches and vlenches on nothing while he grinds his panel against you and rubs circles on your node. His digits rub up and down your valve only to return back to your node to rub and pinch it gently. Your transfluid spreads across his closed panel, and he groans at the feeling. He continues kissing your neck and sucking on your cables. Without warning, two digits push themselves inside you, and you moan softly. Still grinding into your aft, he slowly fingers you, thumb rubbing your node as his digits push in and out at a teasing pace. You tilt your head back and to the side and reach your servo to hold him by the hip, urging him to grind harder against you.

He slowly flexes his digits, spreading you open. He pushes his digits deeper and deeper into you, looking for all his favorite spots, a small node there a caliper here. Finally, he finds the little bundle of nodes he's looking for. He rubs it roughly, making you gasp and twitch.

"Oh, please, my spark. Please." You beg. He knows what you want and he decides he'll give it to you because he wants it just as badly. His panel hisses and slides away, his spike bobs out, ready and waiting. Pre leaks from the slit and he uses his servo to press it against your valve so he can tease some more. Grinding his spike in between your folds, coating it in your slick.

"You're so good for me. I love you so much." He praises and pours his spark out to you while slowly pushing his spike into your needy valve. He keeps his servo on your lower abdomen to hold you in place as he slowly thrusts into you. You moan and whine his name over and over again. He keeps a steady pace, going deeper and deeper with every thrust into your tight valve. Your calipers clench onto him tightly, trying to keep him in, and it makes him groan deeply into your audial.

The lewd sounds your valve makes each time he pushes in is music to his audials, mixed with the sounds of your whining drives him crazy. It doesn't matter how pent up he is right now. It won't make him speed up or sit up and hold you down while he takes what he wants. He loves this. This is probably his favorite way to make love to you, slowly unraveling you at your core. Gentle and loving and patient. It's enough to make his spike twitch and throb inside you. He grinds his spike into while planting more kisses on your neck and jaw, kissing and licking and sucking at you while you moan from feeling his spike rub against your tight walls.

"Feels so good. Oh, Soundwave." You moan sweetly. Your EM field releases wave after wave of love. It's warm and fuzzy and makes him do the same, love and adoration coming deep from within his spark to mingle with yours. Nothing in the universe could ever make him feel this way, so loved and wanted, needed. It causes possessiveness to bubble up in him, but he doesn't change pace. Keeping it steady and gentle. With another groan, he starts thrusting into you again. He wants so badly to overload in you, paint your walls pink with his transfluid.

Your calipers squeeze and flutter around him. You're getting close. He holds up your leg for you, servo squeezing onto your tribulen as he chases your overload.

"Mmm, wait." You whine. He stops, wondering what you want or need. Is he going too rough? Does it hurt? "I want to see you." You moan, and your request makes his spike twitch inside you. He pulls out, and without another word, you climb on top of him. Sitting fully on his spike to ride him. You take his servos into yours as you stare deeply into his optics. You lean down and plant your forehead on his as you bounce a bit faster.

He smiles so sweetly at you. "Overload for me." He hums before pecking your derma. With a moan, you overload on him. Calipers clenching down on his spike, squeezing him so tightly and causing him to overload with you. He groans deeply as your valve milks his spike. Pulling rope after rope of transfluid from him. Your chest opens up, revealing your spark and his follows suit. Your sparks reach for each other and merge together. He can hear your voice, strings of "I love you," flood his processor. When you're chests close and you're catching your breath, he kisses your face all over.

There are no words spoken as he lays you back down on your side. He caresses your hip again as he looks into your optics. Your servo reaches up and holds his cheek, and your leg reaches over his hip and rests on him. After a while, your optics are ready to close again, and without a second thought, he gets up to get a towel to clean you up. When he comes back into the room, you're in recharge already. So he carefully cleans you up, taking his time to admire you while you sleep.

His spark is flooded with love for you and from you. He knows how much he means to you and how much you mean to him. He never wants to lose you. And despite what others say about him being a Con, you don't love him any less. In fact, you praise him. He knows his values, and he will always strive for better, and you admire it. He loves you so so much that it hurts sometimes. He just tossed the towel aside and lays down with you, pulling your frame close to his. He's never letting you go, ever.

#transformers #tf #maccadam #macaddam #macadam #cybertronian reader #femme cybertronian reader #femme reader #tf idw #idw tf #idw soundwave #tf soundwave #soundwave x reader #idw Soundwave x reader #valve plug #valveplug

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mariemarieohcontrary · 10 months ago

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Choices MCs (Filipino Edition lol)

《Next》

Finally drew four of my Choices MCs inspired by @cassiopeiacorvus and her wonderfully done OC compilations (how do you have the patience to draw all of em omg)

I'm thinking of doing the same for my Romance Club MCs too (background would be the purple of the homescreen there)

Interested in commissioning me? Click the source! 💗

Evangeline Marie G. (Guzman) Lakandula - Ah yes, my soft, anxious babie with self-worth issues. She comes from a messy background with a horrible father. She was close to her late (paternal) grandparents and had a very complicated relationship with her late mother. One of her relatives shes v close to is her older cousin, Ethan.

She's a college dropout thanks to her father's bad choices and worked the moment she had a chance to.

After her mother passed, that was it for Evangeline. She kinda needed to go away from her dad and his loud voice and other issues. So she left home and Ethan helped her out before he left for a business trip abroad.

He had her go to a house he owned in Laguna where she could live in provided she just do the cleaning in there. She found simple work that she was qualified for and that was her life for the next few years until a certain bachelor party came into her life.

Diwa Kalangitan M. (Masangga) del Rosario - My chaotic good and very protective MC who definitely rabbleroused in the school she works in.

She was raised in a household that follows some precolonial beliefs and traditions. She has a stepfather who's an albularyo and two half-siblings. One is studying in college, the other is still in high school. She has a close relationship to both her parents.

And she is rather happy with her job as a teacher in a private school. Sure she sometimes goes against curriculum to make sure the kids enjoy her lessons. She's a class advisor also so when she found out their math teacher humiliated one of her students, she confronted said teacher.

Her trip to America is really just a birthday trip until the events of the book started. In the end she ends up in a poly relationship with Nik and Cal. (She does end up pointing out to the boys that she'll have to go back to her work and family at least just to properly resign and find work near them and also to assure her family she's safe.)

Maya Chelidonia C. (Caacbay) dela Rosa - The local tired detective who had to move abroad for their own safety. Love them SM.

Maya is the child of Jaime dela Rosa, a cop in the Philippines who does not follow in corrupt practices and tries to do right by the community. He was killed after coincidentally seeing signs of corruption in the force and wanting to expose it.

After their father's death, Maya also followed in his footsteps. On their end, they wanted to try and do some good in their job but ended up experiencing some discrimination in the work force. Enter them finding the same evidence of corruption that their father found as well. This time they managed to expose the corruption but in the end, one of their few friends in the force warned them that they'll have to flee the country due to some v angry officials.

So they fled with their mother and younger sister.

Their sister became a fashion designer. Maya found work as a private detective and the two teamed up to be able to live a decent life. Their sister travels with their mom on fashion shows. They're fine living nearby their maternal uncle with their dog, Spudge. (He's a scaredy cat and a lil crybaby who doesn't like strangers and by that I mean he starts crying when the strangers notice him. It's not out of trauma, he just likes Maya and their fam more than anyone else and is v shy with others. He's also scared of the dark and loud noises.)

Inocencia Honorata G. (Galang) Valenciano - and finally, my love's embarrassing bby. My Rafael Aveiro romancer. Love her sm.

She and her mom, older brother and little sister ran away from their father when they were a kid. Her parents annulled their marriage after a few years.

Her older brother became the youngest lawyer in the country and had a firm in New York seek him out. This led to him helping Inocencia and her sister (who had skipped grades and managed to enter college the same year as Inocencia).

Inocencia is v non-competitive that she chose De La Salle University while her sister went to their grandfather’s alma mater, University of the Philippines. At college, Inocencia got dubbed as SiaSia because of the repeated -cia in her first name and surname.

The two got accepted into Edenbrook when they were gonna start. Inocencia being 27 and her sister being 25. By then, Inocencia still isn't competitive and didn't sign up for the competition for the diagnostics team but her little sister shoved her to try it out.

#play choices #the royal romance #choices fandom #choices game #choices stories you play #choices #choices fanart #nightbound #crimes of passion #open heart #trr mc #cop mc #oh mc #trr: evangeline lakandula #nb: diwa #cop: maya dela rosa #oh: inocencia valenciano #marh art #my art

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mezzy-1 · 5 months ago

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Clove D&D Headcanons (Valorant)

Ok, Riot put D&D into Valorant with some of Clove’s voicelines. As a resident Valorant and D&D nerd (I’ve DMed and played more than 20 different campaigns) I wrote some headcanons. Please like, reblog, and comment if you enjoy!

Clove

As the Dungeon Master, they are in control of the entire story. Mostly...

The campaign setting is 100% Runeterra because let’s be honest, if League of Legends is canon in Valorant, then yeah D&D would be in that world too

Often meeting famous characters along the way

Currently the story is taking place against the backdrop of Piltover and Zaun fighting each other, which the party finds themselves in

The group is trying to keep the escalation low by keeping Runes from ending up in the hands of either side. They have to balance this with their own allegiance to certain characters though

Clove’s own joy comes from writing the most fan-fic inspired story and injecting as much drama into it as possible. Like they actively find the most dramatic way to resolve an arc

They always listen to podcasts that have campaigns. Their favorite so far is called ‘Role a Crit’ which introduced them to the hobby

Clove can surprisingly imitate accents despite theirs being nearly impossible to understand sometimes. They slip into voices well too, lowering theirs to a growl or into a high pitched squeak

Has a number of playlists for battle music, fantasy ambience, and creepy sound effects for whenever they need it

They do have a character they played before joining Valorant though: a Sorcerer named Titania

Clove keeps the character sheet and some art they drew of her in a shoebox along with some of her other belonging from her old life

Titania appears as a guiding presence for the party whenever the group needs direction or quick save. She’s one of the favorite NPCs in the party

They revel in the moments the party realizes that there’s a huge twist or when they have a climactic battle. The grin on their face is diabolical and hides how excited they are

Clove’s dice are from older editions and worn a bit from much use. They have a set of dice in the colors of Non-Binary Flag they were gifted by a friend that they use most

They also have a comically large twenty sided die for boss battles too

Gekko

He has Dizzy sit in his lap while he sips whatever he brought to the table

He’s playing a Vastaya druid called Raldo, that leads around a massive Flutterbug named “Tio” that he adopted from a nest

Every single time the group comes across some kind of animal, he is the first to try and adopt it

“Guys, we totally need to bring these little guys with us. Think of how awesome Basilisks would be to ride into battle!”

He has a small entourage of critters everywhere he goes, which he constantly drops spells on to let them swarm everybody

He’s played a ton with friends before, and has a bunch of dice left over from that. He taught Neon how to build her character

As a result, he’s the first person she asks about rules and their characters started the game as a duo and stick together

Has Wingman there for fun and lets him roll his dice

Wingman has his own character in the game, courtesy of Gekko being bored one night. It’s a simple Minion, and the group love him to death

Wingman is able to roll dice, but sticks to taking everyone’s shiny dice

This has become an ongoing issue, because Wingman likes shiny and will steal right from the table if allowed

Wings does have a character in the game. A simple Minion that comes along with the party and just does follows

Gekko’s dice are clear green and yellow resin dice, and plenty of marbling with shimmering resin

One of the designs on his skateboard is a Twenty Sided Die surrounded by runes and ‘Buena Suerte’ written underneath

Neon

She’s playing a Fae Fawn ranger that is new to the world and has no idea what is going on. She’s never played so her having no idea what’s happening is built in to her character

She named her character ‘Holly,’ after the flower because she thought it was nature-themed.

Almost named her ‘Wreath’ but decided against it. She had a long list of flower and nature inspired names

Has the most unhinged plans whenever playing. Like breaking into a fort by setting fire to the inside and blowing the drawbridge up when the guards run across

“Look we can see they’re excavating some powerful Rune. We should just run in and grab it for ourselves and then kill them all with it right?”

Once hit a Natural 20 to shoot a fleeing NPC with important information. After she killed him she asked: “So did we win? I rolled high so I think we did.”

Luckily Clove improvised that the NPC had some mysterious letter to account for the sudden shift

In the grand scheme of the story, her character has been tasked with finding out where her sister has been taken too by raiders.

Neon has the books loaded up on her phone at all times and still doesn’t get all the rules. Gekko usually helps as well as Clove

Listens to some of ‘Role a Crit’ when she’s killing time on the treadmill. She gossips with Clove about the latest episodes and fan theories

Neon always sort of thought the game was a bit too complex to learn. She has since dropped the judgment and really embraced it now that she’s played

Her dice are on loan from Gekko and Clove. A mixture shimmering teal and bright yellow sets

Neon is really getting into the community around it and some of the lore. She mostly likes being able to talk about the game and have something in common with the others

Also bombs the chat with memes about the campaign and inside jokes

Phoenix

A human bard but one with ties to a bunch of dragons that gave him training for magic in exchange for him entertaining them

He named his character Monte Gildedgrasp. It’s a character he’s played in previous campaigns before

His instrument is a lute crafted with scales. He has sound effects queued on his phone for when he uses it in the game

Flirts with anything that moves, and sadly rolls high enough to get somewhere. Then rolls so abysmally when he tries to commit to the bit

“You haven’t seen hot if you haven’t seen me.” he says to barmaid and has amazing charisma to back it up. 2 hours later he was robbed and stabbed by her

“...not feeling as hot now…anyone got bandages?...”

When his character sings, he also sings and does an amazing job of it. He already could freestyle, but doing in old English is a flex

Adds insults and mockery before rolling to attack enemies. In Shakespearean style though so he can use some old theater skills

This man was lowkey ready to dress up but didn’t cause nobody else really would. It’s their loss, he has a good sense for costuming

Lends a hand to the party a lot. His magic and healing spells come in clutch whenever the party needs it too

Clove fashioned a web of intrigue for his and Jett’s characters. Phoenix’s dragon allies are going missing and Jett’s character may know who is causing it

It’s caused both of their characters to be slightly suspicious of another. What’s even more fun is that both characters are also crushing on each other in spite of it

Phoenix is more than capable of giving a heart wrenching performance if needed. When a distraught mother came to him, he delivered the most beautiful and comforting speech

His dice are on loan from Killjoy’s massive dice stash. He picked them out himself, and promised not to singe them

A speckled rust and orange dice that have cracks of bright gold and numbers written in old Gothic font. The numbers also glow in the dark too

Phoenix lives for the stage, so having a small outlet to act and sing a bit feels incredible for him

Jett

Playing a human assassin that has been working her way towards a target that wronged her a long time ago

Her ex-employer is sort of the main villain. A chem-baron that is killing magical creatures to make new weapons from their corpses

Jett’s character, Dysha, used to kill for that same chem-baron before leaving after realizing she felt guilt for the innocent lives she took

Clove loves dark backstories, so Jett is getting the full character angst and recovery treatment from NPCs and the Party

She will bluff and lie, and somehow manage to get her way because the roll is high enough. It’s always for ridiculous lies though

“Yes I’m supposed to be in baron’s room after dark! I’m his…uh mistress? Why do I have a knife and have him tied up? Uh… roleplay?...”

That incident is not to be brought up by the party unless they also want to die

She uses her character as an excuse to do things with friends in sort of a lowkey way. Being able to cook some food and eat it together is main reason for coming

The fun story and in-jokes are a bonus

She is the second flirtiest after Phoenix’s character, and the two constantly have their characters flirt and have romantic moments

Phoenix’s character soon discovered she helped kill one of his draconic mentors in a twist orchestrated by Clove. It was such a huge shock to the whole group

Jett and Phoenix flexed their acting skill by having the characters make up and agree to no more secrets between them. Then they kissed (but insisted it was only performance)

Nobody believes them.

Her dice are metal and come in a tin decorated with so many stickers. She bought them at a comic shop in LA the younger agents visited once

Jett lives for dramatic stories about betrayal, love and misunderstanding so she’s dying to see where the campaign leads

Killjoy

She was the first person to tell Clove to try getting a group together at the protocol knowing full well it would work

She’s obviously played for a long time, and been entrenched in geek culture as a result

Yordle named Suza with a whole lot of Hextech gadgets. She is smol and the group protects her like a little sister

Potentially deranged though, she invents insanely big guns and uses them for just about everything

Killjoy cackles in her character’s airy voice as she releases a bunch of dice into a box and counts the damage numbers

Is the most versed with rules because she’s played the game forever, and leverages it constantly

Places artillery and gives advice to the party for combating certain creatures they encounter. Essentially she plays both for the characters and because she likes wargames

“I understand that we might not have access to modern technology, but we could easily use magic to fabricate the parts of a Nanoswarm and use magic to then animate it!”

Has done makeup based on her character and shown up in clothing matching the aesthetic of Suza. She’s dedicated to fully embracing it

Has one really big artillery cannon she wheels around called the Krieg that the party can use once in a while. She rolls a ton of dice for the damage it puts out

She instantly calculates rolls as well, and has a bit of a habit of metagaming because of that because she’ll run odds

Doesn’t let that get in the way of her story though

Her character had a bunch of her own blueprints stolen by some Zaunites and she aims to take them back before they build machines of war from them

Met Raze’s character by getting saved by her in the first session. The two are inseparable in game and in real life

Total dice goblin, like has an entire bag filled with them buried in one of her drawers

Uses a mixture of dice from rare events and collections,

Her favorite are some that Raze made from pouring resin into a mold and hydro dipping in yellow and orange

Killjoy is glad Clove has the campaign because meeting a fellow nerd is always great

Raze

She plays a buff Chirean named Pearl that was part of the Firelight gang before leaving on her own quest

Has a hoverboard because of this and wields a length of pipe covered in razor wire. Has a scavenger vibe to her

Shamelessly flirts with Killjoy’s character at the table, and the party is FOR IT

“Hey Suza, I could really use some repairs to my board. Mind coming over to the garage and giving it a look?” said while leaning in to a blushing Killjoy

Surprisingly gets really into character, playing a stoic badass that has a chaotic streak She lowers her voice and shifts her body language to match the vibe

Also her character has a tendency to put people into headlocks and bearhug them. This is acted out in real life

Pearl is surprisingly the heart of the group and has a tendency to sit with the characters and talk things out with them

She ended up helping with Dysha and Monte’s own falling out by supporting them both and holding them together after they made up

Never misses a chance in game to ram her hoverboard into someone and punch them in the jaw. She has a collection of gold teeth she’s knocked from other people

Her character introduced herself by nearly breaking Gekko’s wrist in an armwrestling competition

Draws all of the characters at one point in her free time. The art caused so much hype when she unveiled it at the session

Her character is a bruiser, but a bruiser with a heart and a wish to see the world she knows become better

Raze’s own dice are partially on loan from Killjoy’s massive collection which happen to be her favorites

They are an assortment of dice that make a rainbow, each one being a different color and transparency

Killjoy taught her to play over the course of a few sessions with the group and the two sit together at the table because Raze would always want some help

It’s stayed that way for obvious reasons

Yoru

Was begged to join, and eventually relented for a few weeks before leaving and agreeing only to come back at the end of the campaign

He’s playing as a Voidborn swordsman, specifically inspired by old Samurai movies. Yoru didn’t care about making a character but just took a pregenerated one off of Clove

Turns out, Clove knew how make a character Yoru didn’t hate playing. Especially cause she gave him a cool backstory

His character, Tets’ Uya, is the banished leader of an army of Voidborn. After regaining some more power, he will get revenge for his banishment

Raze and Him frequently go on rampages in combat because that’s his favorite thing to do. He usually finishes off enemies, so he gets to describe how he kills them

“I take the pirate captain by the throat and hold him over the ocean. Tets’ Uya whispers, ‘you’ll do better as a corpse than as a captain,’ then he drops him in.”

Sick moments like that, especially because Yoru leans into the intimidation his character has and has the group back him up

Even though he sometimes gets bored out of his mind waiting for a turn, he pays enough attention while checking something else

After a while his character left the group because Yoru was done. He returned his dice back to Clove and started a project in the garage

A couple weeks later during a climactic battle between some Celestials and Zaunites, Yoru showed up with his character to back the group up for the final showdown

Clove went to hand him his dice, but he instead pulled out a tin of dice he bought himself

It was a cobalt steel set with machined Hiragana numbers instead of the standard numerals

His character and the group ended up killing a Celestial and wiping a squad of Chemtanks with some lucky rolls before declaring victory

Yoru doesn’t join often, but when he comes in as a guest, he’s more than welcome

(Bonus Content)

Cypher tries to play as a mage and would always roll really high on important stuff. He has loaded dice he swapped in every couple of turns

Fade joined in as a Catfolk and scared Clove back to death when she got really into character during an interrogation.

Viper doesn’t admit it to anyone, but she played D&D as a kid but found it hard to keep groups together

Omen tried to learn it but with his own stuff going on treated it more as a random occasion. He joins in as a guest character that does healing stuff

XXXXX unironically loves playing as a knight that is sworn to kill giant monsters and dragons for the safety of the realm. XX also yells at the dice if they roll low

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