#cw feelings of unworthiness

[voidselfshipp]

Too Sweet

Cw:mentions of blood,implications of Gore,slaughter, war, mania attacks + ptsd flashbacks.

Summary: during one of their sieges, The Mechanisms split off to take care of the occupying forces of King Cole's army. One of them gets too close to Jerico and Tim sees red.

>no rbs, please.

Adrenaline surged through tims body as he laid there hands dripping with blood, a soldier dead before him.

His body shakes a manic grin on his face as he looks at the bloody corpse, laugh starting to echo from his throat. The world around him is a blurr,his eyes are wide and his pupils are small dots in his gorgeous brown iris.

With shaking hands, he lets go of his victims throat-- I told you not to touch her--He muttered with a shaky unstable voice,laughter soon leaves him.

"Thats- thats what he gets- thats what they get for- for touching her! Haha! Nobody touches my- My girlf- my friend" he thinks, slowly straightening up from his half bowed position.

--Hah-- He scoffs, smoothing his beautiful brown curly hair with his bloodstained hand-- hah, wanker...you really thought...you could hurt her

Around him the world is Fire,burning and crumbling buildings, dead bodies all around, vehicles no more than scrap and black smoke clouds rising from the pyres up to the Sky

The Mechanisms had come here to fight against an occupying force, one of the soldiers tried to stab Jerico in the neck...and Tim saw red and ripped the soldier appart with hands and teeth.

--Tim...--calls out jerico,lowering her sniper rifle. She grabs one of his hands Gently,it smothers with blood-- Tim im okay

He turns to her,eyes still wide and fingers twitching-- Doll....doll-- he throws himself at her,cupping her cheeks and looking for any scratches--Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do- do I need to call Marius?! Please tell me youre okay- i cant- I cant lose you,I cant lose you like bertie...!

She takes his wrists and says--Tim, Tim its okay im okay,im safe

Tims eyes look around her face and body,his hands pressing against her waist,her shoulders and her hips,staining her clothes with crimson sploches.

--Its okay,im not hurt,you saved me--She cooed, bringing Him in for a tight hug. His forehead falls limply on her shoulder as she strokes up and down his spine.

A shaky breath leaves him, his twitching hands unsure where to rest. Even when he tries he accidentally tugs at her clothes,gasping for air.

--I cant lose you,I cant lose you-- He whispers,tears threatening to spill-- dont die- please dont die...dont die on me I cant-- with a quivering Lower lip-- I cant- I love you so much, please dont leave me...dont leave me forever

His words take her by surprise,she squeezes him into a tight hug and his hands finally settle on her Lower back--I cant live without you--He mutters, hot tears falling down his face and onto the exposed shoulder of his companion.

--Easy,Tim. You saved me, see? 'M okay-- she promised-- see? Im alright --He nodds weakly-- c'mon lets go back to the ship

Trying to tug him along, he stops her by not moving and squeezing her. Shes quick go get the memo and nodds.

--Oooooor we can stay a little longer, thats alright too--She added, understanding he needs more time.

Both stand there among the rubble of the crumbling,blazen And charcoal blackened city. Civilian,soldier and resistance laid dead across the floor with blood and ash mixed into a paste of death, they only Hear the distant Shouts of the ongoing battle,the crackling of the pyres anf the ocassional crumble of debries.

Tim can only concentrate on that orchestra of destruction and Demise,the images of Berties death passing through his head over and over again. Its vivid,its Like hes there again holding his best friend in his arms.

--It can't be said I'm an early bird--She sings softly--It's ten o'clock before I say a word

Baby, I can never tell

How do you sleep so well

It catches tims attention, slowly bringing him back to earth,to present time,to safety.

--You keep tellin' me to live right

To go to bed before the daylight

But then you wake up for the sunrise

You know you don't gotta pretend

Baby, now and then-- jerico puts her hands on his biceps and rocks Him side to side softly.

Silken voice fills his ears and eases his heart and mind,it wraps around his soul like a blanket.

--Don't you just wanna wake up, dark as a lake

Smellin' like a bonfire, lost in a haze?-- she continues and he slowly humms along--

If you're drunk on life, babe, I think it's great

But while in this world

A shaky sigh leaves him,his body relaxing and laying on her for support-- I think I'll take my whiskey neat

My coffee black and my bed at three-- both entone,tims voice slowly gaining more strength---

You're too sweet for me

You're too sweet for me

I take my whiskey neat

My coffee black and my bed at three

She smiles and he joins In with those side to side movements. One hand on her waist and the other holding hers,fingers entwined as if both were dancing.

--You're too sweet for me

You're too sweet for me-- He sings at her, as if he didnt deserve this softness.

He pulls her to waltz,turning slowly. Tim hasnt moved his head and he'd rather not, he feels safe in her embrace.

The world still burns around them with the ash falling like a tragic snowfall, the air smells of smoke and gunpowder.

--I aim low

I aim true and the ground is where I go --He takes the lead,singing to her,meaning the words--

I work late where I'm free from the phone

And the job gets done

But you worry some, I know

But who wants to live forever, babe?

You treat your mouth as if it's heaven's gate

The rest of you like you're the TSA

I wish I could go along

Babe, don't get me wrong

His voice gets flirty again as it usually is, she feels him smile against her skin and his head rises just enough so their eyes meet.

They spend a few more minutes dancing and singing softly. When he feels better and back with his boots on the ground, he looks at her and says--C'mon,lets go back before the guys freak out

And leading her by the hand they return to the Aurora. The Group asked if everything is okay and why they took so long to get back, and jer just dismisses it.

Nobody questions why Tim leads jeri to the showers, or why they spend so much time in there.

She scrubbs off the blood from his fingers,the same song they were singing now playing from a radio she took into the room.

《You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain

Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape

If you can sit in a barrel, maybe I'll wait

Until that day》

He watches her with tired eyes--I- you dont gotta do it...

--Its okay,I want to take care of you--She answers, taking his still bloody hands and kissing his knuckles.

Tim sighs under his breath and softly says--I dont...I dont deserve it

--Yes you do,dont say that.

In silence he lets her scrub off the blood from his hands and his mouth,then comb the hair products on his brown locks that now stick to his face

《I'd rather take my whiskey neat

My coffee black and my bed at three

You're too sweet for me

You're too sweet for me

I take my whiskey neat

My coffee black and my bed at three

You're too sweet for me

You're too sweet for me》

His hands rest on her waist and he helps her out a little,as much as his shaken up nervous system could allow.

--Sorry...sorry I cant be of no more help-- He mutters,voice weak and tired.

Jeri shakes her head-- Dont be,its okay

After the shower they change into something more comfortable, casual "at home" clothes to unwind. Then,they go to the 'livingroom' of the ship where everyone was.

Its not only so everyone could take stock of one another to make sure nobody was missing so it calmed their anxiety, but also a way to make everyone unwind and feel safe.

Merchant has Tim leaning on her shoulder,drifting off to sleep while she crochets Him a small headband with a sprout growing out of It

Nastya is playing her violin, the toy soldier and Ivy play checkers. Raphaella and Ashes are leaning on one another on another couch,asleep. Meanwhile,Marius, brian and Jhonny are playing poker.

Its good to see Tim resting up and feeling better, he was a very light sleeper and the few things that couldnt wake him up was Nastya's violin,quiet chatter and the purr of the octokittens.

Like that,the crew settles down and relaxes after a long day of slaughter.

[babacontainsmultitudes]

Strange times in the dndads fandom, strange times.

[cookies-over-yonder]

they hate my disabled demonic swag

CO-WRITTEN BY @silverlistenstothings

Being a cane user in high school, Taylor's gotten some... interesting comments, but it hasn't come up in a while, so when it does, well... It pisses him off.

Part 18 of The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Roommates

ao3

There are many things that are different about attending Teen High now that everything is over, but to Taylor's misfortune, some things remain the same.

Taylor is standing against the wall at the cafeteria waiting for Normal, Link, and Scary to meet up with him for lunch. He's always the first there, since his class ends a little earlier than theirs.

The Path of the Wind is playing in his headphones while he waits. It's calming, and reminds him of the catbus. Ah, he misses it… hopefully it's doing well.

Someone taps his shoulder, and he flinches, then slides his headphones off to see who's there.

It's not a friend, it's a teacher—no, an educational assistant. They usually help disabled kids in their classes.

"Taylor?" they ask, and their voice sounds familiar. There's a chance they worked at Taylor's elementary school before, because why else would they recognize him? Taylor's blanking on the name though, not that it really matters—why are they talking to him anyway?

"Um. In the flesh," he says, not with his usual boldness, because he still isn't sure why he's being spoken to.

"Why do you have a cane?"

…

…

Huh?

"Uh, 'cause I have chronic pain," Taylor answers, and the words are dry on his tongue. It's not the first time, but it's been a while.

"Oh, what kind of pain? Where is it?" they ask, leaning in too close, and looking at him in such an invasive way as if trying to formulate a diagnosis right then and there.

"My limbs and my back?"

It's not a question, but it comes out like one anyway because why are they asking him this —

"You know, I know someone else who…"

The rest of their words all blend together to Taylor. Something about 'oh I wonder if it's this' and 'you should try exercising more' and oh, his nails are definitely digging into his palms now, and where the fuck is the escape from this conversation—

"Ah, well, I'm sorry, you poor thing," they say, rubbing his arm, and a split-second later, when Taylor pulls away, a frown forms on their face. It's not unlike the expression he's gotten from teachers in the past, but this one makes him feel violent.

And then they walk away. And Taylor lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

Jesus fucking christ.

"Taylor!" Normal calls, he's with Link and Scary, and soon they're all right by him discussing whether to buy food from the caf or share Link's packed lunch like yesterday.

"Hey, you okay?" Link asks, putting a hand on his shoulder. The touch feels like whatever the opposite of icky is. Nice, probably. Calming.

"I'm good, just…" Taylor glances around. The interrogator is still there, wandering around tables. Probably not within earshot, but still. "I'll tell you later, okay?"

"Okay," Link says, moving his arm to wrap around Taylor's shoulders while they walk to find a vacant table.

Taylor's breathing is heavy with frustration, but he makes an effort to steady it lest it progress into something worse.

✿

When Taylor gets home, Hermie isn't on the first floor. They're probably in their room?

Taylor needs to tell them about today. He didn't get a chance to relay the whole story to Link earlier and he feels he might explode, or start biting things—probably start biting things, actually—if he doesn't get the chance to complain.

Taylor runs up the stairs and knocks on the door. "Hermie!"

" Whaaat. "

Taylor opens the door. Hermie is half-sitting half-lying on their bed with their arms crossed over their chest, looking up at him with half lidded eyes.

"Thank you for being normal," Taylor says, closing the door.

"I'm Hermie," they say, closing their eyes.

"No—no, I mean—thank you for being normal about me having a cane ."

"Uh oh."

"What?"

"What happened?" Hermie asks, crossing their legs and sitting up at attention.

"Okay, I was waiting for Normal, Link, and Scary in the caf and then some random person approached me," Taylor starts, pacing back and forth beside Hermie's bed.

"Student?" Hermie asks, narrowing their eyes. They tilt their head as they continue to watch Taylor, as if weighing some options Taylor isn’t privy to.  

"No."

"Okay.”

They sound a bit disappointed, but Taylor decides not to question it, caught up as he is in his own frustration.

"It was an educational assistant that I think I recognized from elementary school? I'm not sure. I don't fucking know—just—they came up to me out of nowhere and asked me why I have a cane, and I was like 'cause I have chronic pain, but then they kept asking fucking questions!" Taylor throws his free hand in the air and sucks in a breath before continuing.

"Like—like they asked where the pain is, and what do I even say to that? 'Oh, yeah, it's fucking everywhere'!? And, oh my god, Hermie, they started trying to fucking—fucking figure out what it is. Last I checked that wasn't anyone else's fucking business? And I—I just stood there being inspected , I'm fucking— ugh! "

Taylor can feel his nails dig into his palm again, but god, his head is on fire right now.

"And you know what happened next? You know what they said? 'You poor thing.' "

Hermie scoffs, but Taylor can tell the anger isn’t directed at him. They do seem angry though, and Taylor feels a little vindicated by that reaction. Not enough to do much about his own anger, though.

"They said they're sorry . Sorry? I was just minding my own business, vibing , mind you, to my music while waiting for my friends and they think they can just randomly approach me like that? What the actual fuck!?"

“That’s fucked,” Hermie says helpfully, patting the bed beside them.

Taylor doesn’t really want to sit down, still vibrating with frustration, but it’s probably best if he does. He falls backwards onto their bed, grabbing a pillow and putting it over his face to muffle a frustrated yell. Hermie pats his leg comfortingly.

“Get that pillow off your face before you suffocate. Deep breaths, Taylor.”

There’s a brief flash of instinctual anger, don’t tell me to calm down, I’m angry and I have the right to be, but he knows Hermie is right. He throws the pillow to the side, and takes a sharp breath in—drawing the heels of his hands to dig into his shut eyes and clawing at his hair with his nails—and lets it out as another frustrated groan.

Hermie waits for him to calm down some before continuing.

“I know I don’t have to tell you that your anger is justified, so let’s just skip over that part,” Hermie starts, and their own tone is a bit tense as well, their tail tapping a frustrated rhythm against the mattress between them. “I think next time someone asks, you should tell them to fuck off. Or, I suppose, if it’s an EA that could get you in trouble, you can just tell them you need it, no explanation necessary. If they continue to press it, I think you could hardly be blamed for resorting to violence.”

Taylor brings his hands down from his face, and something about the frustration in Hermie's tone in Taylor's honour paired with the advice makes him, despite the heat of anger still coursing through him, crack a small smile. "Are you saying I should attack them?"

“I would never say that,” Hermie says, faux-offended with a hand dramatically placed over their chest. “I’m just saying, you have a weapon,” they gesture at his cane, “and if you did, you could hardly be blamed… and I’m sure the others would cover for you.”

The adrenaline rush has mostly dissipated, which means Taylor is left to feel the aches all over his body. It always worsens when he gets riled up. Attacking people being intrusive does seem like it'd be rather satisfying. "You really think I could get away with… nah, I can't do that." Taylor chuckles. "Sounds fun though. Oh, but I will definitely be telling people to fuck off," he says, stretching his arms out and flipping off the ceiling, and then he shouts: " Fuck you! "

“That’s the spirit,” Hermie says with a small, satisfied smile. “And if anyone really gives you trouble for it, I’m sure Chaparral wouldn’t miss me if I skipped a day to join you at Teen High instead. You might be above resorting to violence, but I am not.”

Taylor bites his lip, but he's grinning even harder. There's something about Hermie threatening violence for Taylor that makes him giddy.

And grateful.

He brings his arms back down—they're aching even more from being thrown up like that but whatever, it was worth it—and he rests one hand on his chest. He extends the other out toward Hermie and wiggles his fingers a little.

Hermie eyes his hand suspiciously for a moment, glancing from it to his face and back, before cautiously placing their hand in Taylor’s as if expecting a trap. They don’t seem too genuinely worried though, eyes still amused even if they’re not smiling anymore.

Taylor tightens his grip on Hermie's hand. It's warm and sweaty and reassuring. Then his eyes fall shut.

It’s quiet for a while, before Hermie lets out a long sigh and squeezes Taylor’s hand.

“Alright, come on, you don’t want to fall asleep like that,” Hermie says, tugging at his hand gently as they return their pillows to their rightful places and gesture for Taylor to lay down beside them.

Taylor does so, and he curls up against Hermie with their hands still interlocked. His head is on their chest, and Hermie is warm, and so is Taylor; they both tend to run hot, which doesn't seem like it'd be great on paper, but in actuality, it's quite comforting.

The rise and fall of Hermie’s chest is slow and even, and Taylor’s eyes quickly fall shut again. The last thing he feels before drifting off to sleep is Hermie’s tail curling protectively around him. 

[garpond]

literally all i am irl is something for people to make fun of LOL

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

The final part for The House of Glass! Everyone has a lot to figure out, but progress takes time. Follows from this. This was my first ever complete comic from start to finish, I hope you guys enjoyed the journey!

If you've enjoyed this comic, please consider donating to Aya Yasser, a 19 year old university student from the University of Palestine. She had to pause her studies due to attacks on Gaza. Her 55 year old father is ill and she is trying to evacuate him and her brothers.

You can find her blog @samaagaza

It's like two in the morning right now so I might be a bit incoherent, cw for discussions of racism, homophobia, biphobia, sinophobia and classism

I've really wanted to write Chang as someone who's made to be a perpetual outsider. As a Chinese person born in the UK I've always been made to feel like a foreigner no matter where I go - obviously I am a foreigner abroad but I'm also treated as such in the very country I was born and raised in. I think a lot of east Asian people can relate to being treated as a strange exotic foreigner first and a person second.

As a working class orphan he would probably have been treated as disposable by society at large too. As soon as he's rescued by Tintin in the Blue Lotus he immediately asks why Tintin bothered saving him, and in his letter to Tintin in Tintin in Tibet he writes that he's unworthy of his uncle's hopsitality. We don't get much from Chang as he doesn't make many appearances but it seems he's internalised strong feelings of a lack of self worth. Tintin may have been the first person to recognise his humanity since Chang's birth family passed.

Being queer is also very isolating at first. You're not born into a culture you can reference or make sense of your experiences initially, it's something you have to seek out. I wanted to explore learning to love yourself through others. We're all weird to some degree, we're all in this together!

I genuinely have no clue how I'd follow this up, I have ideas for future stories but I'm not sure what would follow directly from here!

[all4yoi]

𝒥ust a bet﹕hyung line

𝑒nhypen x fem!reader ︎︎⚹︎ cw: angst, no fluff (yet), reader is mostly viewed as a loser and nerd, lowercase intended, kinda went overboard with hoon's, reader gets called a bitch once, not proofread!

sypnosis﹕after a few months of dating, you find out you were just a bet.

part two !

★ LEE HEESEUNG (wc 0.3k)

you and lee heeseung has been dating for a total of five months, and throughout those months you can confidently say that you were the happiest. he was the perfect boyfriend, his family loved you and so did yours.

today, heeseung promised he would take you on a date after his basketball practice despite your protests on how he should be resting instead. you wouldn't have agreed if it weren't for the fact that he had shot you with his pleading big doe eyes that never fails to make you agree on whatever he asks for. 

so here you were, making your way towards the gymnasium with your bag hanging on your left shoulder. the lack of dribbling and smacking basketball noise from behind the closed doors told you that their practice was done.

entering quietly out of habit, you were about to approach your boyfriend when you overheard his teammates talking to him.

"don't tell me you're still with her?" asked one of boys, an amused smile on his face. heeseung only raised a brow.

"what? you won the bet, you can dump her now. you're ruining our image you know? plus she's a total nerd and loser, you're much better with someone like yunhee." and with only just a few words, you felt your world crashing down.

right, who would date someone like you? you always found it weird, that heeseung just approached you one day in your biology class with the cheekiest smile on his face. the fact that he wouldn't leave you alone until you've agreed to go on a date with him. it all made sense now, why the popular basketball captain suddenly gained interest on the school's "biggest nerd."

"speaking of.." another guy spoke, nodding towards you with a cheeky smile. heeseung turned around only to be met with your glassy eyes.

you didn't move, wanting to hear him defend you. wanting to tell his teammates that you weren't a bet and he actually liked you throughout the months you two have been dating.

his silence said everything and with that you turned away and ran out of the gym.

"shit." he muttered, running after you.

★ PARK JONGSEONG (wc 0.3k)

"i'll pick you up later, okay?" your boyfriend of almost a year said softly through the phone. you've been dating jay since the first week of your first year in uni, others found your relationship weird. maybe because back in high school, jay never and refused to even spare you a glance. he was an asshole who looked at you as if you were the epitome of disgusting.

but the past is in the past now, right?

"okay baby, see you." you reply and put your phone down on your table, knowing that he's usually the one who ends the call.

you go back to the papers scattered on your table. the silence in your room was disturbed by sudden noises in your phone, turning to look, you see that jay hasn't ended the call.

picking your phone up with a smile, you were about to call out for him but a voice stopped you.

"i can't believe you've gone this far dude." you recognized the slightly muffled voice, it was a friend of jongseong's.

"what do you mean?" your boyfriend grumbled. the audio was muffled, you figured he was moving and the phone was in his pocket.

"you're still dating her!" the voice exclaimed, as if amused. "seriously, i didn't think you'd take that bet seriously. fine you win, i'll clean your car for a month. but you've gotta cut it out, you're starting to disgust me." the boy laughed.

before you could hear what your boyfriend would say, you ended the call. your hand was trembling and tears were falling from your eyes unconsciously.

were all those months just a joke to him? were your feelings really worth a free car wash for just a month? were you that unworthy?

jay was an asshole back in high school, you thought he changed. turns out he didn't, you felt like a fool for falling for his antics.

★ SIM JAEYUN (wc 0.3k)

if someone would be asked who you were, they'd all say the same thing. a loner, pathetic loser, and a nobody with a pretty face.

because what was a pretty face if you had no friends and a social life?

you almost believed you would die alone, you were too socially awkward to make friends. so when sim jaeyun, the transferee, approached you with a warm smile and a hand outstretched for a shake, you were beyond shocked.

your relationship went from being block mates, friends, then next thing you knew you two were dating. at first you were reluctant to enter a relationship, scared that it would ruin your friendship, but he insisted you both tried. that was three months ago.

you didn't have any friends, but atleast you had jake.

jake who smiles at you as if you had carved the stars in your hands. jake who would never forget to bring your coffee every morning. he was everything you ever needed. he was it for you, you only hoped he felt the same towards you.

walking through the hallway of the school, you stopped infront of your locker only to be met with a sticky note on it.

HOW LONG CAN JAKE LAST WITH LOSER L/N?

A WEEK : 卌 - 卌 - 卌 - 卌 - III

FIVE MONTHS : 卌 - I

A YEAR : II

Furrowing your brows, you stare at the note as your breathing grew heavy. It was obvious that the paper was old, it had folds and it was only stuck on your locker with a washi tape.

"what are you doing l/n? go on, cast your vote." a mocking voice said from beside you followed by a bunch of laughter. "personally, i thought he'd last a day. i guess i'll vote for five months then." then the hand went and tallied on the five months category.

"what's going on here?" upon hearing your boyfriend's voice, you fled away immediately, not wanting to face him. everytime something good happens in your life, it's always ripped away from you. jake was just like them, you were just a toy for their own entertainment.

★ PARK SUNGHOON (wc 0.5k)

"i'm sorry baby, i really am busy with practice tomorrow." your boyfriend, sunghoon, says in genuine sorry. it was the fifth time you have asked him to meet your parents, who also by the way was so desperate to meet the boy you've been dating for seven months now.

every time you ask him, he's always busy. either with practice, a project, a family matter, or whatever excuse he can come up with. but you always brush it off, knowing he means well and he really is busy as he's an athlete student.

"i'll meet them next week, okay? i promise." that's also the same thing he says everytime too, and once again, you only nod in response.

you and sunghoon met in a physics class. he was clutching his head with a frown on his face as he desperately tried to understand what the professor was going on about.

you remember clearly the way he approached you in the library, a physics book on his left hand as his right scratched his nape. "can.. i noticed- uh, can you help me with this topic?"

that was where your relationship started. you tutored him and helped him improve his grade. when he got an A on the finals, he kissed you on the lips in glee. he was taken aback by his own actions but nevertheless asked you out after.

"i love you," he whispers, pressing a kiss on your temple. "let me get something from my room." you hum in response as he takes his arm that was previously wrapped around you before going up to his room.

you can't help but notice the way his phone was blowing up from beside you.

you weren't the type to snoop around other people's phones, especially your boyfriend. it just felt wrong, you trusted him fully. but the way it kept ringing with text notifications, you just couldn't help it.

looking back to the stairs, you note he isn't back and there was still rummaging noises from his room.

taking his phone, you enter his passcode and read the messages from one of his group chats.

JONGSU

lol don't tell me she asked again.. em ba rrah sing

DAEHYUN

hahah when is she gonna take a hint?? 💀

JOON

you gonna blame her? hoon's been at it for months lmao

DAEHYUN

i actually can't believe he went that far, wasn't it only supposed to be for a month? 🗿

JONGSU

a week actually, but ig that bitch y/n was so easy. yk hoon likes to get his ego fed 💀💀

putting the phone down, you exhaled in disbelief. you took your bag from the floor and threw it over your shoulder and went to the door of his apartment to put your shoes back on.

"baby?" sunghoon emerged from the stairs, looking at you curiously. "you're going already?" he asked, extending an arm towards you but you slapped it away. the tears on your eyes shocking him.

"hey, hey what's wrong?" he tried again but his hand was yet again slapped away.

"i don't want to see you ever again." was the last words you uttered to him (shakily) before leaving his apartment.

[quarterlifekitty]

Weaknesses part 5: complexes

Note: this is jokes!! Please don’t take my cartoon pathologizing too seriously!

cw: some daddy kink level stuff

Gaz has a soft spot for girls who suffer from oldest sister syndrome. Girls that are a little world weary and too grown up at too young an age from caring for others while not having people to rely on. He just loves how pleasantly surprised you are literally every time he does something helpful that you didn’t ask him to do. Doing the dishes. Spackling that hole from the picture you took down. Refilling the air in the tires. Bleaching the bathtub. Very small things— but you’re so used to being the only one who can stay on top of things. Literally the high he gets from telling you to sit down and relax is unparalleled.

Soap is, quite frankly, into girls who grew up thinking they were ugly. It’s a terribly selfish, but he likes telling you all of the dirty things he thinks of doing to you, how he feels like someone’s knocked him upside the head when you enter a room in a new outfit, how he has to take a cold shower every time you’re going out to some event and he gets to see you dressed up. Honestly, he has to take the cold showers pretty regularly. Seeing how you’re flustered, and you don’t 100% believe the things he says— so he has to put in the time to make you believe him. You’re the kind of girl boys would dare each other to ask out in middle school, and now Soap has the absolute pleasure of convincing you that sometimes you make him so turned on that he thinks he’s about to throw up.

Ghost likes outcast girls. He likes how you eye him with a little bit of suspicion when he chooses to hang around you. He sort of gets this idea in his head that he’s the only one that can handle your eccentricities— handle you. That other people are afraid to approach you but he’s not afraid of anything. That his interest in you is because honestly, he has a much more refined palate than any of the shitheads you’re surrounded by. And you know what? He likes the idea of you as a couple being the scary, freak ass couple. Two lone wolves becoming mates.

Price likes former gifted students. He loves that you’re talented and quick, yes, but he also can’t help but get excited by all of that pressure that’s on you— that you put on yourself. He gets to be the one that relieves it. He’s the one that gets to lavish you in praise, and he’s also the one who gets to pin you down and force you to take it easy for a little while. He loves gently handling any mistakes or missteps, rationally perceived or otherwise. Because he can tell no one’s ever bothered to treat you so gently, have they, sweetheart? They’ve just been content to push you to your limits and have you run yourself ragged because you’re special. You are, he won’t deny it— but you’re also a little thing that hasn’t seen enough nurturing, in his eyes.

König loves so called “high maintenance” girls. Girls with high standards who know what they want, who have gone through some partners that couldn’t take the heat. He gets a very unique sense of control out of it— knowing all of your rules, rituals, likes, dislikes. Like Ghost, he likes thinking of himself as the only person who knows how to handle you— that everyone before him has just been unworthy of you. That he is strong where others have been weak. And you know what? It’s not rotten work. Not to him. Not if it’s you. He’s just built different.

Nikolai… I’m just going to say it. He likes girls with daddy issues. He kinda throws his whole self into relationships at times, and he likes it when he can be your everything. Your love, your friend, your hero, your source of approval from an older man. And he loves a brat. Because he knows you only act that way because someone didn’t pay attention to his special girl in the past. You’re testing him— daring him, unsheathing your claws to see if he’ll flinch and he never will. He’ll endure it all and chip at your defenses until you’re the soft, satisfied, sweet girl he knows you really want to be. Lavishing you with praise and attention, bragging about you to anyone who will listen. He wants you to have a complete breakdown because you’ve been holding it all in and putting up walls for so long that you don’t even know how to cope with being in the arms of someone who will always catch you when you fall.

[muletia]

𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐝 ₊ ⊹

obsessed!optimus prime x human!reader obsessed!megatron x human!reader obsessed!starscream x human!reader

summary: various mechs react to your injury. didn't specify what happened to reader in starscream' part so you can fill the gaps yourself

cw: angst, hurt, graphic injury (reader), blood and gore, possessiveness, obsessive thoughts, very ooc starscream

word count: 2700

thank you!! <33

i may write the 'next part' for other bots too when mood for angst comes back...

He reacted too slowly, missing the leap by mere seconds. Didn’t make it in time to shield you from the stray projectile, which struck directly at your side, piercing the abdomen and immediately knocking you to the ground. He deals with the attacker without hesitation, taking down the Vehicon that had ambushed you during your ride. Quickly moves to your side, shielding from further threats. Something he should have done from the very beginning.

Your eyes are closed, and chest heaves rapidly, chasing after the blood slowly spilling from your wound. Optimus realizes he has never seen your equivalent of energon before. He’s seen bruises and scratches but never blood. Once, he was curious about what it might look like, how it would behave outside your body. Now, he would give everything to erase this image from memory.

He feels disgust—not with you, never with you—but with himself. Because he let this happen. Because your suffering and the scar that will forever remind you of his failure are his doing. He looked into your eyes and swore to protect you at all costs, even at the cost of his own life.

He failed. As always. But you should not bear the harvest of his incompetence.

And to think, he once desired to be your partner, to bear the title of conjunx. Now, as he considers it, the thought feels like a cruel joke.

He’s convinced his entire body is aflame, as though he’s sharing your pain. As if the projectile had torn through his own frame. You deserve this pain, he thinks. Should suffer more, take this burden from you and carry it himself, and preferably, bear it for the rest of his life—an echo of failure, a reminder to never let anything happen to you again.

“[Name]…” he tries, his voice unworthy of a Prime—weak, strained, fighting against his own voice box. “I beg you…” He wants to add more, but physically cannot.

No response. He clenches his servo so tightly that it begins to tremble, energon soon dripping from the stress. The vision of your death flashes through processor. Then remorse, fury, and grief. Days spent admiring you, fantasizing about the future twist into self-torment, revisiting the image of your lifeless body before him because he acted too late.

Cannot allow that future to come to pass. You will not give your life for his mistake. Even if his passion never bears fruit, even if your smile continues to haunt him in his dreams, even if your closeness is limited to shared rides, he will not let you go. He is willing to endure the worst tortures, walk through hell and back, starve and ruin himself just so you can see another sunrise.

“Ratchet, ground bridge. Immediately.” The true Prime emerges. Stern and decisive. “Bring surgical tools.”

The medic arrives swiftly. Unlike his leader, Ratchet doesn’t take an eternity to overcome the shock. He gently lifts you onto his servo and takes you to the base, directly to the operating table. Optimus follows closely behind, optics fixed on you, desperately searching for signs of life.

Optimus doesn’t leave your side, staying through the operation, watching as Ratchet stitches the wound with his trademark precision. The medic refrains from his usual muttering about caution. One look at Optimus’s empty faceplate, devoid of any visible emotion but still fiercely focused on you, reveals the terror within. The fear and guilt have burrowed so deeply that even after the procedure is finished, with you unconscious but stabilized and safe, hooked up to an IV, Optimus does not leave you.

Wants to etch this image into his memory, so it becomes his specter. A motivation to reflect on himself, on your relationship. He must become better, more attentive, and less distracted. Because he isn’t sure if another failure like this would break him. If you were to end up on the operating table again, would he join you in death? Even though he knows it’s a lie. No matter how battered life makes him, no matter how many heartaches you bring him, he is compelled to continue the fight.

He longs to take your pain away. To bear it himself, to atone for his sins. And so he does, staying by your side without pause. Doesn’t eat, doesn’t rest, merely existing and waiting for you to wake up, incapable of doing anything else. He knows the team is worried, that they check in on him, bringing energon, begging him to rest, offering to take over the vigil, but he refuses every time. This is his burden, his failure, and he will not place it on anyone else. He must atone.

Intends to suffer alongside you until you fully recover. He doesn’t expect you to forgive him; doesn’t even dare to hope for it. But will the horror fade into the fog of an unpleasant memory if, from time to time, you grant him the same look you once did?

You lie in his servo, small, trembling, barely alive. Your entire forearm is crushed, and the side of your torso bears claw marks—a result of your encounter with a Vehicon who wasn’t acquainted with human fragility. Megatron’s soldier only intended to carry the runaway back to his master, not realizing that grabbing you by the arm would cause such devastating harm. It wasn’t done on purpose, nor was there any intent to deliberately hurt the partner of the Decepticon leader. Well, it didn’t matter anymore, now that the Vehicon lay dead with several holes in their frame.

Despite the carnage, Megatron doesn’t seem fazed. He carries you to the medbay with his familiar proud stride, showing no signs of stress. Calm and cold-blooded, unnaturally so. Yet his optics remain fixed on you, monitoring you, searching for signs of agony.

"You will survive," he states firmly, words resolute.

This composure is a bluff, a rational decision to avoid spiraling into destruction and despair. You didn’t need his wrath right now, silently demanding rescue. There would be time later for him to unleash his fury, to drive the message into everyone’s heads that if a similar situation ever occurred again, it wouldn’t end with just one Vehicon. He wouldn’t be so composed next time.

"I do not permit you to die," he adds.

In the recess of his servo, blood pools—your reminder that you urgently need medical attention, but also his. Perhaps for the first time since you set foot on the Nemesis. He clings to that need, even though he wishes to experience it under different, more fitting circumstances.

The medic is already waiting in the medbay, preparing the operating table for a small human. Knockout straightens at the sight of his leader and gestures to the empty table, where you are carefully placed. The silver mech steps back but does not leave the room. He intends to witness the procedure, to maintain complete control over it, even if he isn’t the one holding the tools. Needs to be certain that the only thing you leave this room with is scars from the operation. He allows no thought of any other outcome.

"My liege," Knockout begins, but Megatron’s optics remain locked on you. "I must inform you that I’m not yet fully versed in human anatomy."

Fury begins to seep through in the form of bared dentas.

"Well, I trust you are versed enough to save their life."

"Yes, I will do my best, but I must emphasize that the likelihood—"

"Knockout. You have exactly three nanokliks to make a decision. Your life or theirs. What is your choice?"

The medic bows submissively and picks up his tools. "Understood, my lord."

Megatron stays present throughout the entire procedure, closely observing as the bleeding gradually subsides and your body begins to regain its shape. He should be pleased that you’ll survive and soon be able to sit in his servo again—this time not bleeding out. Perhaps you’ll even look at him a bit more kindly when you learn that he personally carried you to the medic and dealt with the wretch who spilled your blood.

Yet his mind keeps returning to the feeling of utter panic he experienced when he saw you barely alive, with a cascade of crimson flowing from your wounds. He hadn’t expected anyone to provoke such a reaction in him—a sensation of dread, of helplessness. It lasted only a moment, swiftly transforming into rage, but it was enough to take him by surprise. Normally, he considers hypotheticals a complete waste of time, but he can’t stop wondering: what if you had died? He knows you won’t, because you belong to him. But if you had truly left him, struck him in his most vulnerable spot by taking yourself away—would anyone have been able to stop him? To halt the devastation before it consumed even him?

"There’s a strong chance they’ll survive," Knockout reports, wiping his servos clean of the unpleasant, human blood.

"I cannot rely on a ‘strong chance,’ Knockout. I need certainty," he growls. "So… is everything fine with [Name]?"

"Yes, my lord. However, they must rest extensively, preferably under the close supervision of a me—"

He doesn’t finish the sentence, as Megatron has already lifted you back into his servo. "I will decide that," he interrupts. "Expect frequent visits. Be prepared." With that, he leaves the medbay.

A claw gently strokes your head, tousling your tangled hair. You’ve already spent too much time in the company of the narcissistic medic—as if he would ever allow you to remain there without his constant vigilance. No, he had sworn to care for you, and not even death could meddle with that vow.

At first, he thinks it’s a weak start to a joke. You like to tell him jokes, maybe that’s how you got to his spark and shaped it into your likeness. He never considered them exceptional, and they were rarely funny, not measuring up to the quality of those from his home planet. But sometimes, they made life more bearable than he’d ever admit because they were yours, and then they became private, reserved just for the two of you.

But the closer he gets, and the larger your figure becomes, the prologue turns cruelly engaging. Because you’re lying motionless on the ground with your eyes closed, and blood seeping from your side. You show no signs of life.

He mass-shifts even before transforming, landing sharply on the ground, pedes digging into the surface.

"[Name]!" he yells. Kneeling beside you, knees sink into the soft earth, staining them with dirt. But his focus remains entirely on your small, unmoving body. "Would you be so kind as to stop joking? Get up!"

Because if this is a joke, it’s exceptionally cruel.

His claws tremble as he brings them closer to you, gently brushing your cheek, trying to rouse you. To make you show him any sign that everything is okay, even though he knows it’s not. As always, he tries to deceive himself, convince himself that you’ll come out of this unscathed, and that the horror before him won’t leave a mental burden behind.

"You fool," he hisses. "This isn’t funny, not even a little, do you hear me? Get up!" Voice cracks, and his strokes quicken. "Ha ha, you got me. Congratulations, one of your pathetic jokes finally caught me off guard. You can stop now..." He’s no longer stating; now, he’s pleading — for mercy, for another dose of humanity that you had mercifully bestowed upon him, even though he never truly deserved it.

With uncharacteristic tenderness, he pulls you into his arms, yearning to feel some sign of life against his body—proof that this isn’t the end. Your heart beats rapidly; feels it drumming against his chassis, granting him temporary peace. But it’s fleeting, as panic swiftly regains control. He doesn’t let it show, the terror boiling inside. He holds you tighter. Optics stare into nothingness as he tries not to think about the implications of your condition and what consequences it might lead to.

"Wake up, do you hear me? Now!" he screams desperately "[Name], please, I feel like I’m losing my mind."

No, you won’t leave him. You can’t do this. You mustn’t.

A faint groan catches his attention, and he gently pulls you away from his chassis to inspect your face. Apparently, you heard his plea, because a grimace appears on your pale face. Starscream can’t discern what it signifies. Pain? Despair? Confusion? Whatever it is, it softens his features, revealing hope that this is, in fact, a poor joke.

You blink rapidly, revealing bloodshot, unfocused eyes that lock onto him. Your chest begins to rise and fall more quickly. And even despite the horror you must feel, the pain burrowing deep into your body, the confusion and exhaustion, you manage to smile for him. As if you had a reason to.

"Star..." you whisper.

"Yes, yes, I’m here! You’re never to scare me like this again, do you understand? Never." His last word is a growl, though his servos remain gentle.

Hearing your voice anchors his thoughts, letting him focus on the possibility that things will be alright. That you’ll both come out of this unscathed, because this entire farce was driving him to madness. But he realizes he doesn’t want to hear you say his name as though it were for the last time. As if it were a farewell. No. You promised him eternity. You broke him, reprogrammed his processor to think only of you, infected his body to make it weep when he hadn’t seen you for too long, and now you intended to leave him? No. He won’t allow it. You swore eternity, and you will keep that promise. Otherwise, it would prove he truly didn’t deserve softness. That he was never meant to know comfort.

"Frag," he curses, lowering his helm because, for some reason, he can’t bear to look at you. Instead, he notices the crimson stain on your side growing, overtaking your shirt and slowly reaching your pants. His olfactory senses are assaulted by the metallic, unpleasant smell, and he concludes that this must be the scent of human death. "Did he do this to you? Hurt you? Violate you?"

Did Megatron finally find out about your relationship? Recognized you as a weak point, a tactic to get to him in the most devastating and cruel way? He searches his memories for provocation, an act of defiance, another attempt to seize power, though he’d recently tried to keep his head down, to behave. For you, so this would never happen. But Megatron needed no particular reason to strike. Especially not him.

Vents a sigh of relief when you weakly shake your head, but it’s not enough to restore calm. You’re still suffering, still bleeding out, and he is powerless. Usually, such powerlessness was closely tied to irritation when he lost control over his own fate. Now, he feels only a chilling terror in his lines at the thought of losing you. Of losing the love you gave him.

"Good... That’s good." It’s not good. Nothing is fragging good.

Your eyelids begin to flutter again, as if you’re fighting with yourself to stay conscious. You try to focus on him, keep your gaze fixed on a single point, but your eyes refuse to cooperate, rolling back.

"[Name]?" your chest rises and falls rapidly. "You must hold on, do you hear me?! Hey, hey! Focus!"

"S-Star..." you try, even quieter than before. "It hurts... help..."

"Stay with me, now. Please," his voice cracks. "You won’t leave me alone, will you? You promised..."

"It hurts..."

"I know, I know, hold on." He repeats himself. Knows how to get out of this situation, to use the last resort. It involves enormous risk and danger, especially for you, but he can’t hesitate any longer. Can’t wait. Can’t lose you.

He sends a message to Ratchet.

"Just a little longer, [Name]." He soothes, though he no longer knows who needs reassurance more. "Don’t make me die with you."

[nottswitch]

— if you’ve been naughty, you get…

───────────── 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚’𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐞𝐫. ─

summary: it only takes one right wrong person and one right door to realize why you should stop the habit of changing in your brother’s dorm.

pairing: brother’s bsf!lorenzo berkshire x nott!reader

cw: 18+ smut, brother’s bsf, voyerism, rough p in v, unprotected sex, spanking, choking with a belt, restraining, degrading, cursing

wc: 2.4k

a/n: enzo lovers unite for the filth including the cheekiest shit in the entirety of hogwarts <3

⟡ navigation ; m.lists ; enzo m.list ; kinkmas 2024

────────────────────────

Over the years of studying at Hogwarts, your older brother’s dorm virtually became your own. At first, Theo was more than simply irritated about you shamelessly occupying his space, because scrunchies and feminine perfume happened to be a major turn-off for the countless girls he usually brought to his bed. But over time, he made peace with the fact that your clothes always ended up mixed with his in the wardrobe, your makeup cluttered his bedside table and your textbooks were shamelessly laid out on his desk. It wasn’t like he could do anything about it, anyway.

There was another person, however, who wasn’t against your presence in the dorm at all – Lorenzo Berkshire, one of Theo’s best friends, his roommate, and the biggest asshole Hogwarts had ever seen.

It was pretty damn hard, knowing what was on his mind most of the time. One day, he would smirk at you and let his eyes shamelessly roam all over your body in a way that made his gaze feel like flaming hot iron. And the next day, he would completely ignore you, not even turning his head to look when you walked into the room, making you question your own sanity – did you offend him? Did you do something that made him deem you unworthy of his attention all of a sudden? The cycle continued, hot, cold, then hot again, very rarely pulling you out, but mostly – in. You knew full well that Theo would obliterate both of you if something ever happened, but this knowledge only made Lorenzo more desirable in your eyes. The more of a dickhead he became, the more you felt drawn to him, as fucked up as you realized it was.

The guys were all out to get some drinks at Three Broomsticks when you decided to use Theo’s dorm as your personal walk-in closet, knowing that it would be free for at least a couple of hours. You were planning to take a look at your Christmas party outfit that you had just bought last weekend – you wanted it to remain a surprise for your roommates, which was why you decided to go to Theo’s in the first place. Standing in front of the mirror, you took off your top first, then you skirt, letting yourself have a little show for your own amusement before putting on anything else.

Lorenzo was confused as to why the door to the dorm was open. He left his wallet on his bedside table and was just about to mutter an ‘Alohomora’ when he noticed the handle slightly turned – it was loose already, so it was pretty easy to see when it wasn’t in the right position. He peeked inside and nearly choked on his own spit – the last thing he expected to see was you in front of the mirror, only your panties barely covering anything on your body, leaving every single inch of exposed skin for his eyes to feast on. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t lie – it was something he imagined plenty of nights, behind the closed curtains of his bed, with his aching dick in his hand.

His eyes followed the bounce of your tits as you twirled around, checking yourself out in the reflection. Immediately, Lorenzo felt his cock twitch in his trousers; it was ridiculous how quickly you could get him harder than a rock even dressed – of course, now that you were almost fully naked, he felt his barely existing self-control fly out of the window. You squeezed your breasts, pushing them together, and it took Lorenzo everything he had in him not to audibly groan and announce his presence earlier than planned.

Unaware of someone’s gaze intently fixed on your body, you finally grabbed the dress you had in mind for the upcoming Christmas party. It was a tiny little Santa’s elf dress, green and so short it was bordering on inappropriate. As you pulled it over your head, you knew Theo would not be pleased when he’d see it – but you didn’t care, you weren’t a child, after all. The sight of the hem of the dress hugging your ass sent Lorenzo’s mind into places he didn’t even know were there yet, and his cock started painfully throbbing, begging to be released from the suddenly tight confines of his clothes. When you bent over, your panties peeking from underneath the dress, he snapped – the sight was too arousing, clouding his mind and better judgment (that he never possessed in the first place).

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. I wonder what Nott’s gonna say about that.”

The squeal you let out at the unexpected familiar voice behind your back could rival horror movies. You quickly turned around, covering your cleavage with your hand – a pretty pointless move, because he’d have seen you at the party anyway.

“Enzo!” you exclaimed, looking him up and down with a frown. Your eyes lingered on his crotch, the dark fabric of his pants visibly strained, and swallowed – just how big– “Wait.”

Realization dawned upon you like a wave of boiling water. He had a very obvious boner, which meant… It couldn’t have, right? You hesitantly looked up at his face, and his widening smirk told you everything you dreaded – or were excited – to know.

“Wait what?” Lorenzo teased, taking a few slow, lazy steps towards you. It was completely intentional – no matter how much he craved your closeness at the moment, he couldn’t have let you have the upper hand in this situation.

“You know what I mean,” you grumbled, trying to ignore the heat in your belly that his shameless arousal was starting to elicit. “Have you…?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, not a hint of embarrassment in his voice. His eyes traveled up and down, as if he was trying to mentally undress you with the power of his mind. “A slutty little thing you are. Who would’ve thought, huh?”

“Oh, piss off.” You scowled at him, one of your hands desperately trying to pull down the hem of your dress; there was no way you could do it due to its length being so damn short. “You have ten seconds to leave,” you added, raising an eyebrow in an attempt at defiance. You didn’t want him to, but there was no way you could let him know that – he was getting too cocky already, if that was even possible – his arrogance knew no bounds at the best of times, and now was definitely not one of those.

Lorenzo just chuckled, taking another step closer until he was almost flush against your front.

“Come on, sweetie. You don’t really want me to leave, do you?” he cooed, his tone as mocking as it always was when he thought he could see right through you. To be fair, he could, at least right at this moment – your own state of desire was written all over your face, despite you trying to hide it to the best of your ability.

Your breath got caught in your throat as you felt his hand on yours, gripping your wrist and moving it away from your cleavage.

“Now, show me those pretty tits of yours,” he murmured, his tongue darting out to lick along his bottom lip as his eyes fell on your tits, hugged by the dress in a way that nearly made his cock burst out of his trousers.

“Shut up,” you retorted, but made no move to cover yourself again, silently enjoying the hunger etched into his expression, mixing with the teasing confidence he consistently sported.

“Yeah? Wanna make me?” Lorenzo taunted, glancing up at you with the look that told you he didn’t really believe you could. Taking it up as a challenge, you gathered your courage – it wasn’t something you’d ever have expected yourself to do, yet had been craving for as long as you remembered knowing him – and pulled him in by the lapels of his shirt, crashing your lips together.

The kiss was as messy as it was desperate, Lorenzo’s hands immediately going up to grab your face, squishing your cheeks without a hint of tenderness in his touch – it was all fervor and passion. He urgently walked you back until your lower back hit the edge of the desk, making you hiss into his mouth. He pulled away for a moment, raising an eyebrow at the sudden sound, a smirk tugging at his now-swollen, kiss-bruised lip.

“You’re so damn sensitive,” he drawled, his tongue briefly rolling against the inside of his cheek. “Wonder what kinda different sounds you can make, sweet thing.”

You rolled your eyes at the cheesy, mocking nickname, tugging at his shirt to press your lips together again – he was much more bearable when he shut up for a second. You felt him chuckle into your mouth, the sound as annoying as it was a huge turn-on.

“Theo’s gonna find out,” you whispered, your words cut off by a moan stretching out your throat when you felt his lips moving down to your neck, a wet trail dripping down your skin from his tongue.

“Yeah? And who’s gonna tell him? You?” Lorenzo asked with a scoff, not leaving the crook of your shoulder.

“What if I do?”

Lorenzo shook his head, finally lifting his head up to look into your eyes, noticing that gleam of defiance he hated and loved at the same time.

“You’re gonna tell him, really?”

His words were accompanied by him turning you around in one swift movement, fully pressing you against the desk. You let out a high-pitched moan when you felt his throbbing cock against your ass, his hips bucking forward to provide himself with the friction he needed to relieve the buzzing ache.

“Gonna tell your brother how I fucked you in this slutty dress?” Another taunt, and you knew he was right – you’d have to be completely out of your mind to say a single word to Theo about what was happening and what was inevitably about to happen in a minute or two.

Your silence was telling, making Lorenzo chuckle again. “Thought so,” he murmured, his hands deftly unbuckling his belt – he didn’t have much time until the others would notice his prolonged absence, and he wasn’t about to let the opportunity to make a mess of you go to waste.

“Berkshire, you’re a fucking–”

Once again, you were cut off, but this time almost literally – the leather of Lorenzo’s belt pressed against your throat, making you stutter and let out a strangled gasp as you felt the air being stuffed inside and pushed out at the same time, stuck in your chest.

“’Boutta say something, love?” he whispered into your ear, his tongue tracing the shell of it and making the skin – and your pussy – tingle. You shook your head – what could you even possibly say when his belt was firmly wrapped around your neck, making your mind dizzy both from desire and the lack of oxygen.

“Right, keep it that way.”

The urge to punch him in the face was strong, but stronger was the thrust which he entered you with. Your moan was strangled, quieter than it could’ve been, but it only seemed to please Lorenzo, evident by the way his belt tightened around your throat. His hand held onto its edges, keeping your upper body from falling onto the desk, while his other hand collected your wrists into his grasp, pressing them against your lower back. You couldn’t move in this position, but it wasn’t like you wanted to – his pace was steady and pretty rough, hitting all the right spots to drive you completely insane. A thought went through your mind: you’d imagined him being big so many times, yet the real thing was so much better than anything your brain could conjure up.

As if sensing your inner turmoil – or the lack of it, since you had a rather one track mind at the moment – Enzo briefly let go of your wrists to land a smack against your ass, the skirt of your dress rippling at the impact. You gasped again, the sting sending a lightning strike straight into your gut, making the dickhead smirk in utter self-satisfaction.

“Such a greedy little elf,” he cooed, clearly making a jab at your outfit. Your now free hand pushed back, trying to smack his forearm in response, but only the tips of your nails could reach it. Lorenzo barked out a laugh, amused by your helplessness even while being balls deep inside of you.

“Santa’s little helper,” he continued, smacking your asscheek again before gathering your naughty wrists in his hold once more, pressing them even further against your back. “You sure seem to be doing a good job at helping, sweetie.”

“I wanna… kill you…” you muttered through gritted teeth, somehow managing to croak out sounds despite the pressure of the belt still on your throat. Your eyes rolled back immediately after as Enzo snapped his hips to yours in an especially brutal thrust, the sound echoing through the entire dorm.

“If that’s ‘wanting to kill me’,” he mockingly copied your tone, “I wonder what ‘loving’ feels like.”

“Never gonna know,” you quipped, your hands clenching around the wrist holding them down. Your answer only made him scoff, his pace increasing, as if to punish you for what you had just dared to say.

“Never gonna need to,” he responded a bit breathlessly, making a part of your brain spark up at the fact that he was losing his cocky demeanor, even if just for a second, even if the only indication was a hitch of his breath.

You didn’t catch the exact moment your peak approached – you were unable to follow the pacing of time even if you really tried. The only thing you felt was Lorenzo’s cock twitching between your walls, bringing you right over the edge. Your lips parted in a needy, hoarse moan as your orgasm brought you higher than the sky itself, and Enzo pulled out, his hand sliding off your wrists to hastily stroke his cock and spill all over the hem and back of your dress. As his grip on the belt loosened, you could turn your spinning head to notice the green fabric covered in dark stains, already seeping through and onto your skin.

“What the fuck, Berkshire?!” you exclaimed, your voice raspy from the oxygen rapidly flowing into your previously restrained airways, making you cough a bit. “That’s a new dress, you asshole!”

“What can I say, sweetie…” His hand landed on your ass with one last smack, lighter than the previous ones. “Gotta do some laundry now. Nothing a slutty little Santa’s helper can’t handle.”

[sgojoenthusiast]

angel.

✧.* toji fushiguro x reader

summary:

toji who never cared where he put it before. Ass, tits, hand, mouth, pussy. It was all the same to him. Until, that is, he met you.

cw: smut, oral, blowjobs, creampie, rough, sucker for simp toji tbh, orgasm denial ish

word count: 1.7k

likes, comments & reposts are deeply appreciated! <3 enjoy.

-`♡´-

Toji who never cared where he put it before. Ass, tits, hand, mouth, pussy. It was all the same to him because the outcome was all the same. He’d come, and if she did too then that was that - he’d still get his shit together and leave before the glimmering beams of light began to intrude through the curtains and illuminate her face for just long enough for him to remember it.

To him, sex was never a romantic thing. It was simply a relief. A few brief moments of bliss before the almost immediate realisation of life dawned on him and he’d go back to his typical Monday stresses - his kid, the bills, what he was going to eat tonight, who he was going to kill.

But then, you came into his life. Oh, sweet, bewitching, perfect you. Now, his life had a purpose once more. Now, he woke up with something other than death in his bloodied, war-zone mind. He almost felt unworthy that a real-life angel had been sent to him from above - what had he done to deserve it? You were an animated depiction of the dictionary definition of beauty.

Not only had you invaded his life and imposed all of your perfect elements onto him, such as the way you cared, the way you spoke, and the way you behaved, but you had also completely disfigured the way he fucked.

He couldn’t bear the idea at first. The concept of defiling someone so utterly perfect with all of his corruption and sin was unfathomable. He was a vile guy, yeah, but not even he could tarnish such purity as yourself. However, when the two of you got back to your place after a long date, and he walked you up to your apartment for your own safety (he tells a lie - there was a very slim chance of any danger proposing itself to you in the short walk to your apartment. He simply just couldn't part your side just yet), how was he supposed to ever resist you when you turned around to face him before slowly undoing the top buttons of your blouse as you took his hand and led him straight to your room?

That night, he fucked you in every imaginable way possible - yet the idea of finishing anywhere but inside of your cunt made him feel ill, and has done ever since.

Why would he come anywhere but deep inside of your pussy? Why wouldn’t he want to fill you up to the very brim, stuffed full of his come until it was spilling out uncontrollably? The mere thought of it left him perplexed.

In moments like this, where you’re on your knees with your delicate hands gripping onto his thighs and your soft tongue gliding over the veins of his cock - he found it gruelling to refrain from spilling himself into the back of your throat.

His hand rested on your head, not applying any force to allow you to set your own pace. His head was thrown back and his eyes scrunched in a murderous delight. Every second he spent keeping himself from finishing was a second he struggled to pull you off his dick and throw you onto his sheets.

There was nothing wrong with your mouth - fuck, was there nothing wrong with your mouth - it felt like he was finally experiencing the heaven he’d never truly seen. But when he said that the thought of coming anywhere but your pussy made him ill, he meant it.

You’d asked him so nicely to suck him off, as well. Gotten on your knees the second he got home from his mission as your hands hesitantly danced around his belt, awaiting his approval. He could see the disappointment in your eyes flash for a scarce moment when he asked you to get up - yet the squeal of delight that escaped your parted lips when he scooped you up into his arms and threw you over his shoulder as he began to head for your bedroom made up for every fraction of disappointment he caused you. So how was he supposed to

“Does it not feel good, Toji?” You asked, coaxing him out of his stupor. His head snapped down to look at you with puzzlement in his eyes, asking you all the questions floating about on the tip of his tongue with just one single glance, yet you heard him all the same. “Just, you haven’t came yet and you’ve hardly made any noise.”

Guilt washed over him in waves as he stared at your saddened eyes pouting up at him in confusion. That guilt began to dim when standing next to the conflicting lust he felt at the way his cock throbbed threateningly from the way you were looking up at him with that captivating pout as your hand lazily continued to stroke his cock.

“I.. Fuck, angel. I just can’t do it.”

“What do you me-“ Before you could finish your reply, Toji had you raised in his arms once again as he tossed you onto your bed.

“I gotta cum in this pretty cunt, angel. I can’t explain it, I just have to. Please let me come in your pussy.” He pleaded with you, eyes wide and swimming in oceans of desire. When you slowly nodded up at him, still feeling the lingering surprise from the sudden switch of positions, he wasted no more time talking.

There was no room for questions, not when his tongue was being shoved down your throat and his tip was prodding your hole. How had you gotten so wet just from sucking on his dick? He almost resented himself for not tending to your own needs earlier, but if anyone else had such a filthy mouth wrapped so delightfully around their cock - they wouldn’t be able to think straight either.

A string of curses fell from his lips as he pushed himself inside of you, his forehead resting against your own as your lips parted in pleasure from the way he poked that perfect spot inside of you almost immediately.

He couldn’t ever help himself. You were so magnetic. The way you were sprawled on the mattress as he lifted himself up and threw your leg over his shoulder as he began to pound his cock deep inside of you - it was like streaks of heaven beamed down on you, worshipping you as they should.

The feeling of your pussy helplessly stretching around him, combined with his previous denial of his own orgasm was sending him into an unavoidable spiral - one he was sure he’d feel the effects of for the rest of his days. If he could spend the rest of his life with you looking so angelic underneath him as he thrusted his hardened cock in and out of your wet pussy, he would take that offer in a heartbeat - no matter the cost.

You felt so good around him, sucking him in as if it was the last thing you’d ever do. Toji was no better, his relentless pace and screwed-shut eyes demonstrated that he was losing himself in his pleasure. His hand that wasn’t wrapped securely around your leg reached down to begin stimulating your clit, toying with it so teasingly.

If Toji couldn’t handle it, then you sure as hell couldn’t. Your hands were scrambling for some sort of stability - needing something that could keep you securely in the grasp of sanity’s hands before you succumbed.

Your moans merged with Toji’s, a mixture of broken whines and disgruntled groans echoed throughout the room as you borderline began to scream around his cock - your hands quickly moving to cover your face and muffle your sounds as a sense of rationality clicked in your brain when you realised that your neighbours were most likely either having one hell of a laugh or phoning the police due to a suspected murder scene occurring in your apartment.

Toji wasn’t satisfied though. He couldn’t come outside of your pussy, and he couldn’t come without the sight of your face and the reverberating noises that left your swollen lips. When had he become so picky? He grumbled words of disapproval as his hand left your pulsating clit in order to force your hands above you - the room immediately flooding with the sound of your moans once more - much to Toji’s delight.

He could feel his impending orgasm begin to creep up on him once more, and so he wasted no time as he lifted your other leg over his shoulder and put all of his force into his harsh thrusts. His hand went back to your clit - desperate for you to finish at the same time as him. One after the other, he kept pounding and pounding your poor, abused cunt until there was nothing but a puddle of wetness and a hole practically moulded into his cock.

It was always the familiar feeling of your pussy tightening around him, signalling to him your own orgasm, that sent him those shockwaves of pleasure as he braced himself for the heavy ropes of cum that he was about to fill you up with at any given moment - his pleasure building up at an unstoppable pace as he began to pant out a warning to you.

“Fuck, angel. Gonna come in this slutty little cunt of yours, yeah? Better keep that shit in this time.” He demanded, his voice carrying an authoritative tone that left no space for discussion - not that you could when your entire body had ceased to function at the intensity of your orgasm.

Truly, there was no feeling quite like the one where he was stuffing you full of his cum. He was certain that he’d never get enough of it. Not when it had him throwing his head back with a rough groan and one of his hands gripping the sheets in a deathly hold.

He was so overtaken by his orgasm that he hadn’t processed the feeling of falling onto his back - a gentle hand pushing his chest and silk sheets embracing his back. Nothing could ever change the fact that your lips pressed against his own, could pull him out of a lifelong coma - so when he recognised the press of your soft lips against his own, his eyes sprung to life and his hands flew to your hips - which had somehow found themselves mounted over his torso.

“You wanna fill me up again, handsome?” You laughed, like a goddess above him. He doesn’t think his dick has ever gotten that hard so fast before.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

a/n: came out of hiding for this one

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟsgojoenthusiast

[vinjinssunglasses]

could you write something about Yamazaki shingen can be anything

· ════════༺ ✦⋆𓆩❀𓆪⋆✦༻ ════════··

♯┆character yamazaki shingen

♯┆summary you are somi park, the woman who conceived. Strangely, you and Shingen get closer?

♯┆cw oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, squirting, belly bulge, slight size kink (?)

♯┆w/c 4.4k

♯┆a/n first smut fic, i hope you guys enjoy!! <3 also I do not condone somi park’s actions, nor is anything in this fanfiction canon. none of this is an excuse for her actions ^-^

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The day you gave birth, you were filled with a mix of joy and emptiness. That warm feeling of joy wasn’t for yourself, it was for your own clan. Everyone cheered for you, so you should feel content too, right? Yet all you wanted to do was cry, let yourself loose with tears, hands soaking wet and makeup dripping. That child, the one who was too unworthy to bare the Yamazaki surname, was yours. And you hated it.

It reminded you of the day and nights of endless moaning from your parents, reminding over and over that you are one of the ten women to try to conceive that man’s child. Intercourse is only for those who are inlove, you firmly believe and stuck to your whole life. However there you were, taking in the ruthless thrusts of his man. His hands rest a firm grip on your hips, while his cock mercilessly spreads your hole. Yamazaki was indifferent; keeping his usual stern attitude and quietness, not sparing a sound.

It’s for your family, it’s for your clan. Those dreadful words ran through your mind endlessly. It felt like your perception of love and sex were being ripped to shreds right in front of your eyes. As soon as he finished, the room was dead silent. Not a word or a sound, other than him flipping the blanket over himself. Getting up to clean up, you only sighed as you felt it running down your leg. The mirror showed the pathetic sight of tears running down your face again. And there, the bathroom floor, you sat there curled into a ball, letting the tears run down your red cheeks while you silenced your own woeful cries.

Upon the announcement that you had conceived, you didn’t know what to feel. Relief, knowing you want to have to betray your own beliefs like that again? Or grief, knowing that the baby in your stomach could be deemed useless, and all your efforts to keep your mental state together has been futile? Everybody cheered and congratulated you nonetheless. If only somebody even cared.

That son of yours. Every time clan members reminded you, murder ran through your mind. However you were only allowed to smile and thank them. None of the idiots spared a second thought about how you felt, nor did they even ask.

‘THE HOPE OF YAMAZAKI’

As soon as that forsaken child was born, everyone seemed to take their judging eyes off of you, and onto that mistake. It was the birth of a being that was fuelled with all your grievances. All your hatred shifted onto that child, the one who was worthless enough to take up your last name, Park. Pitch black eyes and a tiny body that giggled when played with. He couldn’t even say ‘mama’, and his mere existence was worth more than yours.

The only ones by your side was the other nine women who also slept with that beast. You all made jokes to lighten the mood, yet the lingering feeling of ‘it’s all your fault’ lay deep inside your hearts. None of them congratulated you on that child, they all experienced similar to what you have. It felt as if they were your only safe space throughout this whole home.

If you were going to live here, you figured you may aswell call it home. Nothing about this place felt like home to you. It was your place of endless suffering, that felt like you were paying the price for your sins.

The first day you had to take your punishment, was the day you were scheduled to sleep with him. Everytime you even think of your last digit, you remember your trembling hand against the knife that pointed at your helpless finger.

Yubitsume, where severing a finger signifies an apology and loyalty to the clan. All of you trembled with sweat when holding that blade. Terrified gazes exchanged, you had to go through with the yakuza tradition. The reason was simple — the desire for his seed. All of you were considered lowlifes, therefore you weren’t allowed to express your opinion. As a result of these actions that were considered sins, the blood splattered over the tissues provided.

Afterwards, you were responsible for his daily tasks: bathing, cleaning, etc. It was an awkward silence, though you weren’t expecting much since he was never a speaker. Dark eyes rested on your curves as you went for a towel, in his eyes you were beautiful. The reincarnation of Aphrodite. While he would never let the words flow off his tongue, you noticed the way Shingen’s gaze rested on you for longer than it should. Though he only sat there, otherwise resting his gaze on the bathroom tiles while you scrubbed.

════════════════════════

You couldn’t help but feel bad for the boy. Gun was only young, unbeknownst of what was to happen. Born by unluckiness to serve the clan against his own will. It’ll be the only thing he knows from now on. To be a killing machine, just like his father, ‘Machine Gun’. To treat him like that, you felt terrible; absolutely ashamed.

Stopping him from having the childhood he was meant to, playing kendama with the friends he made, maybe you were part of the blame. You didn’t want to, but the vice-president presence looms over your shoulder, threatening that if you do not comply; it won’t go well. It’s not the child’s fault, he didn’t deserve any of this. If you had it your way, you’d him play kendama for as long as he pleased; never force him to fight. Still, you weren’t worth a dime to these people, therefore you were forced to your pesky mouth shut.

.

It’s strange. The contact with you two has always been the same — for the traditions of the Yamazaki clan. Then why does the air between you two feel a little lighter? It was odd enough being so casually naked around each other, even though you’ve already seen the other like this.

“How was your day?” Shingen muttered under his breath, and you paused in shock. The room fell silent as you stopped spreading the soap over his body. No, he’s not the type of guy to spare a moment of care for another. Ruthless, unforgiving and selfish is his nature; he tears his opponents limb by limb, not slowing them to spare a breath before they meet their demise. A man like Shingen doesn’t bother caring for his underlings, as they’re under him for one reason and one reason only: they’re weak, unable to reach his level.

Then why..?

“It.. It was okay.” You responded, mindlessly continuing with the task at hand. The room fell silent again, as per usual. It was a nerving stillness, one that has your heart racing. It was softer, less rough like his calloused, scarred skin, a result of all the treacheries he’s gone through. Shingen raises his brow as he studied his hands. You’d just realised — you had been staring at his hands for too long, and he had noticed.

“What is it?” Shingen spoke in a low tone as he inspected all the scars, callouses and rough texture of his hands, they were simply huge. One handshake could snap your wrist in two, not to mention the once soft knuckles that had hardened from the continuous strain from punching. The long, thick fingers which felt like rough sandpaper along his own skin, he had already gotten used to the sensation. So when your unfamiliarly soft hands run along his back, it successfully soothes him. Unlike his, your hands are slender and soft, with well-kept nails that are moisturised often to keep their ‘femininity’.

“Ah, it’s nothing.” You clear your throat, proceeding to grab the shower head. Even when you suddenly splashed water over his body, he never flinched, no matter the temperature. Most times you could never tell if the water was too hot, as he would just sit there in silence.

The next few days weren’t any better. When you were simply cleaning the house, he’ll take a seat near you, sipping at tea while minding his own business. When you moved rooms, he’d do the same, following along and silently observing. Occasionally he’d ask you questions, but that’s as far as conservations went. At first, you tried to ignore him, pretending his presence didn’t bother you and focusing on your work. But over time, the heavy silence between the two of you became more and more unbearable. Shingen’s eyes would follow your every move, his gaze felt heavy, as if he wanted something, yet he never spoke.

One afternoon, as you dusted the walls, you finally had enough. You turned around, forcing the words out of your throat in an attempt to find out what you really wanted to know.

“Is something the matter? These past couple days, you have been following me around.” Your hands become sweatier and you could barely maintain eye contact. Shingen withdrew the cup from his hand, resting it on the table before gazing right into your anxious eyes. He was surprised by your sudden outburst, yet he maintained his neutral exterior.

“Is it bothering you?” He simply spoke, waiting for your reply. Unsure of how to answer, you hesitated — one wrong word and he could snap you in half if he wanted to. But did it bother you? Perhaps at first, however it’s a feeling you can’t put your finger on. It was intrusive, but it left you curious. Why was he there? Is he hoping to see, or hear something?

“No…” You muttered, letting out a sigh you didn’t realise you had been holding. His eyes lingered in you for a moment longer than it should’ve, leaving you with a shiver running down your spine. Expression unreadable, as if he was weighing your answer. You shifted uneasily, wiping the sweat on your palms onto your clothes, trying to maintain your composure under the scrutiny of his deep gaze.

“I see.” He spoke, voice low like a well-tuned instrument. It was as if he learnt something from your hesitation. Unsure of what to think, you swallowed trying to understand his body language, yet it proved futile. You psychically can’t understand a man like him. What is even thinking right now? The air is thick, filled with words you wish you could say.

“Well, if you need anything..” your voice trailed off awkwardly, and he nodded as to acknowledge your attempt at conversation before turning his attention back to his cup of tea. You returned to your work, yet the question still gnawed at you. Everytime you moved, you could feel his unwavering gaze on the back of your neck.

“Why me?” The question slipped out of your mouth without thinking, and you started to silently panic. Turning back to face him, he simply looked down at his reflected expression from the ripples of the liquid. Now that it was in the open, it was too late to take it back. For a moment, Shingen didn’t answer. No matter how much you squinted to see a pinch of emotion, you couldn’t see past the barrier between the mask he wore and his raw emotions. Angry, sad, disdained — you couldn’t tell. It was like staring at a stone wall, unmovable and devoid of emotion. To your surprise, you notice his lips curve into a frown. Did you perhaps do something wrong?

After what felt like ages, he spared a few words. “You interest me.”

‘You interest me?’ Your breath caught in your throat. His words hung in the air between you, heavy with a meaning you can’t grasp. You tried to search his face for even a tiny hint, yet he remained unreadable, as always. Before anything else could be said, he stood and left with the room. The only thing you could do was watch him. He didn’t even look back, leaving you with the echo of his strange words replaying through your mind.

The following week, he personally invited you into his chambers. A cold shiver ran down your spine when he suddenly asked you to meet in his room that night. While you were cleaning the dishes, he quietly entered the room unbeknown to you. Suddenly speaking in a low tone, you flinched and raised your head to look at him. Those same, cold and dark eyes gazed down at you.

“Come to my room, tonight.” Simple, and sweet. Usually he’d keep a distance from his underlings, yet he was close enough that his arms brush yours. You dropped the sponge and took a moment to process the situation — his room? Tonight? What?

“Is there a reason?” You felt compelled to ask. What could he possibly be thinking? He’s unreadable, and you struggle to understand him.

“No.” Leaving no room for anymore questions, he turned around and left. Standing there, puzzled, you could once again only watch him walk away as you were forced to continue your task.

That night, the clock struck ten and you had just finished washing up. You got changed and put your old clothing into the laundry. It was bothering you, what was he doing to do? Did your parents do something outlandish again? The whole thought of it left you pacing around the hallways wondering if you should just say you forgot. But then you’d be going against his order, and who knows what your clan will shame you for now? Sighing, you took the chance and knocked at the door.

“Oyabun.” You called out, and he opened the door. He let you inside, and you took a seat on the bed where he sat beside you. The quiet of his chambers felt oppressive, the air thick with words unspoken. You shifted a little and fidgeted with your hands as your mind spun with questions. Were you over thinking? The silence stretched between you, his presence looming next to you, quiet and unyielding. You tried to shut these thoughts out, but you could only focus on how close he was sat, his body heat radiating against yours in the lamps dim light.

You cleared your throat. Hesitating, the question you’d been holding back forcing its way out. “… What did you mean by that?”

Shingen shifted his gaze from your fidgeting fingers to your jumbled expression that could barely maintain eye contact. “The other day, where you said..”

Did you say too much? You paused and instantly regretted saying anything.

For a moment that felt like ages, he didn’t say a word. You could feel his gaze on you, but he didn’t make a move to speak. Anxiety coiled in your chest, and just as you were about to apologise for saying anything in the first place…

“You think too much.” The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, and you pulled your head up to looked at him. For once, he showed an emotion you could make out — troubled. His brows creased with worry, lips pressed into a thin line before he spoke.

“I meant what I said,” he murmured, struggling to look you in the eye. “You..” Shingen paused, as if carefully choosing his choice of words. “…occupy my thoughts.”

What? It wasn’t as you expected ever coming out of his mouth. He’s a gruesome man who doesn’t hesitate to tear limbs apart, yet here he is, in front of you, weak and docile. Between the cracks of his yielding facades, a hint of emotion shone through. It was as if your hand moved by itself, curling his hair behind his ear.

“Why?” You whispered, trying to grasp onto any sort of reason. “I don’t understand you.”

“There’s no need.” Shingen replied, his voice low and soft. This time, his eyes gazed longingly into yours, filled with an unspoken desperation, like he was hoping for something he couldn’t put into words. In all honesty, you were speechless. Before entering this room, you had no expectations, wanting to leave as soon as possible. Now you want to stay here, in this moment, forever. Seeing his face so soft was a sight engraved in your mind, one that you wouldn’t get tired of seeing.

“Just.. stay. Stay with me.” He bit his lip, his expression tender, waiting for a response he desperately needed. These words were simple, yet they carried a weight that made your chest tighten. His words resonated deep inside of you, and you couldn’t explain his new feeling.

The silence returned, but it didn’t feel thick and heavy, nor suffocating. It felt as if something growing between you two, something fragile and real.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You spoke, voice barely above a whisper, as your hand lands on his. Stroking his thumb, you noticed a faint smile creep onto his lips as a wave of contentment washed over him. It was a side of him that you had never seen — no, nobody has even seen — and it made you feel so special. *I was the only one to see this monster oh-so vulnerable. You saw it — how his shoulders eased and body relaxed, leaning into yours. As if he’d been holding it in for so long, and only now, in this room that he bared his suffering alone, has he been able to express it.

He turned his hand over, lacing his with yours. The feeling of his weathered hands felt so warm against yours, and you embraced his imperfections for what they were. That simple gesture sent a warmth through your body that made your chest ache. His other hand lifted, hesitating for a moment before resting it against your cheek, thumb brushing softly across your skin.

Shamelessly, you almost couldn’t keep your eyes off of his lips. And he couldn’t either. An eagerness that rested in your heart hedged for you to kiss him. You shifted closer to him, taking the chance and pulling him closer while your lips met his, hesitant but eager. Shingen’s mouth was warm, a firm contrast from his cold exterior. Your eyelids flutter close as you let yourself melt into the tenderness of his embrace. Restless, your hands finding themself gripping the hem of his robe, unable to get enough of him. Straddling his lap, you felt his hands naturally settle upon your hips. You finally take this chance to take a breathe, and you look into his eyes — hungry.

For the first time in your life, you felt as if you were in control — his gazed lifted to you, not looking down. You cupped his face,, watching how his cheeks squish against his lips, before leaning in to kiss him again. This time, you didn’t dare part them.

It was a moment you never wanted to end.

Yamazaki lifted you by the hips, taking care to lay your body onto the bed before climbing in between your legs. Untying your robe, his hands eagerly explore each crevice of your body. From your breasts, to your hips, to your thighs — you were perfect. Shingen leaned towards your breasts, gently circling his finger around your areola. Your nipples ached to be touched, yet he only groped your tits, kissing at the sensitive regions of your neck.

His kisses travelled down your collarbone, chest and stomach, towards your dripping cunt. Shingen’s long hair draped along your thighs, his warm breath causing your pussy to tremble.

“Hurry.” Voice aching with anticipation, he complied; his tongue slurped up all your juices, taunting your clit with the feathery contact. Every glide of his tongue has you loosing control of your pesky mouth once more, moans carelessly spilling, making his own neglected cock throb. Moving the strands of hair from his forehead back, you can see the lust and hunger embedded in his eyes, as if he’s holding back from having his way with you. It’s so sexy, seeing those glaring eyes gazing right back at you. His fingers grip deep enough into your skin that it could bruise, pulling you in closer to ravenously lavish in the juices of your leaking cunt.

Shingen leaned in closer to circle your clit with his tongue. A pleasured gasp came from above, which encouraged him to keep going. What if someone heard? You tried your hardest to suppress your moans, covering your mouth. Why’d he stop? A hand grips onto your wrist, pulling them away from your panting mouth as he looks up into your eyes.

“Don’t hold back your moans. I want to hear them.” He slowly pushed a finger through, thrusting in a come hither motion. Those hands, they were fucking huge, and your cunt struggled to spread around them. The once rough, sandpaper like hands melted into your love juices, becoming soft and creamy. A smirk ran across his lips as he rubbed his own erection, watching your face contort into a slutty mess.

Oh, what’s that? He presses against your g-spot, and you shriek in pure bliss. Each thrust leaves you breathless, bolts of pleasure running through your spine. What’s worse is the view of your juices spilling all over the sheets, creating a pool under you. Shingen can’t help but love what he’s doing to you, enjoying every moment of your helpless self.

Oh gosh, you could feel yourself getting closer, while he leans in to circle his tongue around your nub. Shamelessly attacking your weakest spot, you grip onto his hair as you could feel the pool of pleasure inside your stomach hollowing, and your voice becoming louder. In three last plunges against your g-spot, a squeal escapes you as you squirt all over his abdomen. Vision hazy, you felt his fingers pulling out and him panting himself. Shingen lapped up the aftermath of your delighted orgasm, hungrily devouring every last drop.

Next thing you know, his cock is hugged between the wetness of your folds, lined up against your hole. How the fuck was that thing going to fit inside of you? No matter how wet your hole was, the tip could barely push its way in.

“Relax,” His hands rested on each side of your hips for support, while he tried to push it in slowly.

“It’ll fit.” He spoke as if he knew what you were thinking. Shingen groaned as in one final thrust of force, he abruptly dipped into your heat. You let out a surprised squeal, as you both pant. One hand finds its way to grip onto your thigh that nestled around his waist, while the other grips onto your hips. Only three inches has found its home in the depths of your pussy, yet you’re already panting for air. It’s only just begun. He doesn’t dare push any further, afraid that’ll hurt you.

“Give me more. I.. I can take it…” Your voice trembles, trailing off at the end.

Of course, he indulges; pushing his length on further, six inches in. Even further now, seven, eight.. just how big is he?! The girth of his cock makes your head spin as your cunt stretches to accommodate his girth. As he pulls out, you noticed the glistening of his cock dipped in the wetness of your pussy, yet the remaining few wasn’t. Giving slow thrusts, you could feel the motion of his cock hitting so deep, making your whole body shiver in pleasure.

“You feel so good..” He groans into the crook of your neck, hungrily kissing your neck to your lips. That spongy spot inside of you is being tortured by his fat tip, and your joke shudders every time he does. Shingen’s never been this loud — breathlessly loosing control of himself, his precum already leaking inside of you.

“Shingen,” You pulled him in closer with your legs, causing another inch or two to slip in. “Gi.. Give me all of it. I told you, I, I can take it..”

You whine as your eyes start to water, having your toes curling. An instant regret floods his body as he saw the tears running down your cheek, yet he was feeling way too good to acknowledge anything else. Reluctantly, the last few inches fill you up, and oh, you could see his cock bulging out on your stomach.

Shingen faintly smiled as he pushed down on that spot, his hips unapologetically moving faster. It was so sensitive — him pressing down on your womb only made you scream in ecstasy more. Your hole tightens and squeezes him, and you could feel every twitch and pulse his desperate dick let’s out. His strong hands grip onto your hips, squeezing them while thrusting as fast as he could — a bolt of cum building inside his balls.

“Shingen..!” Your voice wails in heavenly bliss, yet he’s too pussy-drunk to even listen to a word you’re saying. “Agh..! W-Wait, I…!”

The sinful sounds of his balls slapping against your cunt drowned out the noises of your moans, and a sheen sheet of seat drips down your bodies.

“I’m.. I’m cumming.. T-Take it all..” just a little bit more and..!

He’s filling you up, mumbling all sorts of profanities. As soon as he pulls out, a rush of juices land on his chest yet again. It made him satisfied to see your hole bubbling with his sperm, dripping onto the wet sheets. It was an achievement to see you trembling, gasping for air, gripping into the sheets for some resolve. He plants a kiss on your cheek, biting on your earlobe before whispering into your ear:

“One more time, please?” And you couldn’t refuse.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

A Jealous Snake

Kinktober Day 12: Jealousy and Praise Kink

Male Naga Yandere x Gender Neutral Reader

CW: Perfectly safe/sane/consensual sex, aftercare, jealousy, praise kink, double penetration, non-human genitals, general yandere behavior, double penetration

Word Count: 420

(Little drabble for you all. Not every kinktober post can be a full fic, but I hope you'll all still enjoy it ❤️)

"My precious little human," Sappan cooed as he secured you in his coils protectively, "I won't let anyone harm you!"

"I told you, they were just asking directions…"

Sappan started dragging you off towards home. It was such a lovely day, so the two of you had decided to take a stroll to the park for a picnic.

Unfortunately, two men had asked you for directions while your naga boyfriend, Sappan, was looking for a place to set up the picnic. When he turned his head and caught unworthy SCUM talking to his MATE his dashed over and flicked them with his tail until they ran off while cursing loudly.

"Ah, my sweet, trusting, innocent beloved! That's just what they said to get you to let your guard down! Luckily, I am here to keep a pure creature like you safe~"

He effortlessly hauled you back all the way home.

"You look so cute when you're upset, though you really shouldn't be… I was just keeping what's mine from harm!"

You knew what was coming next. Sex. He had to remind you who you belonged to and also "cheer you up" since you were now "grumpy." You didn't fight it. You were mildly annoyed over the wasted trip to the park, but you loved getting bred by your naga mate. You even thought the jealousy was hot. And he knew it.

Sappan lubed you up after removing your cloithing and quickly had you impaled on both of his large slimy cocks.

"You're the perfect sheath for my cock, darling~"

As he began drilling you in earnest, you wrapped your hands and arms around him and left kisses from his chest to his cheek.

"You always take me so well. Such a good little mate!"

He returned the kisses and pressed his lips to yours. He pulled away, a string of saliva connected the two of you. He stroked your cheek as the two of you came simultaneously.

You panted and caught your breath.

"You look even more beautiful after taking my cocks, I hope you feel better too. I'm sorry about the picnic, but I just can't tolerate other men talking to my mate!"

You were too tired to respond, but you smiled at him peacefully to let him know it was okay. Sappan lost himself in your eyes, mumbled about how beautiful they were, then set about cleaning the two of you up.

After that, the two of you had a little picnic in the backyard, safe and private.

[gor3-hound]

PLAY DATE — L AND LIGHT

a/n: first death note fic !! been a fan of this series forever, so happy to get to write for it :3 commission for @nexysworld... love u bad fr <3 rbs and comments always appreciated :))) 3.7k words

cw: 18+ content. p in v, double penetration, very mild dub-con, objectification/dollification, toxic relationship, creampie, edging(?), fingering, slightly ooc (moreso light than L)

You're obedient to a fault.

That's a good thing in Light's eyes. He doesn't have time to ponder your feelings. He doesn't particularly care enough to do so. You're pliable. You make it so much easier for him. There isn't an issue of you questioning him, or acting out if he doesn't give you attention. He'd had enough of that with Misa — she had been nothing but a means to an end.

But you?

Light feels as though his every action finds a justification when your eyes meet his. You're so innocent, so sweet. He feels as though if he squeezes tight enough, you'll shatter within his grasp. Sometimes, he feels the overwhelming urge to press down; to make you quiver at his touch. He wonders if, like the porcelain dolls his sister used to collect, his rough handling of you would crack the surface of your smooth, unmarred skin. 

The world is wrong. Light knows this as much as he knows he needs air — you are something to be protected from the unworthy that would like nothing more than to corrupt you. You're weak. He doesn't mean it as an insult, just an unequivocal truth. You need someone to protect you, and he trusted no one else with the task.

He sighs as he checks his Rolex — a simple, silver piece handed down from his father. It wasn’t anything particularly grand; the surface was scratched from years of use, but it was a luxury he'd grown to be rather fond of. The seconds tick down almost painfully slowly as he stares, focusing entirely on the longer hand as he watches it tick by with each passing minute.

Light was uncharacteristically nervous about today. He had no qualms about L finding out he was Kira; he knew he was smarter than the detective. Better than him. He'd find out his name soon enough, he was sure of it. But it wasn't his identity that had his heart racing with each tick of his watch.

L's… suspicions of him had led to a rather unfortunate situation — he wanted to observe you. Light is careful not to give anything away; each word that falls from his mouth is carefully crafted to elicit the reaction he desires. L has come to notice you’re less tactical in your speech, more sincere. You had an innocent demeanour, one that had admittedly attracted L’s curiosity.

L is sure that if you were aware of Light’s true nature, he would be able to draw a confession out of you easily.

“You’re late,” Light says simply as he opens the door for you, a crease forming between his brows as he regards you. His eyes slide up and down your body, taking in your outfit with a critical eye. “This isn’t what we agreed upon. Did you not like the outfit I bought for you?” 

His jaw tenses briefly, a small huff of hair escaping his nose. He shakes his head, briefly glancing at his watch once more before he allows his arm to fall against his side. “It doesn’t matter. You remember what I told you? Don’t speak unless spoken to — Ryuzaki already has his suspicions; I don’t need you making things more difficult for me. Do you understand?”

You nod softly, glancing up at his face through your lashes. Light finds himself having to suppress a shiver at the action, throat bobbing as he swallows thickly, quickly schooling his expression into something more guarded.

“Good. You’ve been so good for me lately. Don’t disappoint me today.” He murmurs, taking your hand to drag you along with him.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

A day passes, and L has already almost entirely forgotten about his initial objective. Sharing a room with you and Light had been a convenience at first — he wanted to be sure he could keep a close eye on the both of you at all times. This was a mistake, and one that he was quickly realising. 

L has never been one for much socialisation, speaking to others only when it is entirely necessary, yet he is immediately able to decipher that you are different. You shrink back at the smallest amount of questioning, eyes wide and doe-like whenever you feel as though you might have said the wrong thing. L is not a stupid man, nor is he impulsive or particularly driven by personal desires.

He was observant to a fault, and his fault appears to come in a pretty package wrapped in silk and lace with Light attached to her arm. Light’s infatuation with you irritates him to no end, even if he understands it. He wants to attach himself to your arm, but Light presents an issue. He’s willing to indulge in the game to a childish degree. One thing L hates more than anything is losing.

That same thought runs through his head as Light finally leaves the room, giving him a brief moment alone with you. “Forgive me,” he begins, regarding you with a small tilt of his head as he gains your attention. “Light seems to dislike you speaking to me. Is there a reason for this?”  

You tense slightly at the question, if only because you know Light would not be happy to find out you were speaking to L without him there to monitor you. “He’s like that, sometimes. He doesn’t let me speak with other guys much.”

The words are a half-truth, but they held honesty, nonetheless. Light was particularly cautious when it came to you being in L’s presence, but he’s always been the more possessive type. 

“I see,” he replies, resting his chin between the space where his two knees connect, his arms wrapped around his calves as he hugs his legs to his chest. He scrutinizes you with an almost childlike curiosity, but there’s a glimmer of something else in his eyes. Something infinitely more dangerous.

“I cannot say I blame him,” he continues after a short moment, humming thoughtfully. “You’re certainly… fragile. With the current state of things, I would have kept a close eye on you, too.”

“I’m capable of looking after myself.” You reply, brows furrowing slightly at his words. His lips pull down slightly at that, his gaze examining you once again. “I did not mean any harm by my words, but I simply must disagree. If Light is shown to be innocent, you are far from safe. You gave up your name easily upon our first meeting, having no certainty that I wasn’t Kira. In the few times you’ve visited, you made no attempt to conceal your ID. It has been caught on security numerous times.”

He pauses, extending his index finger to your identification, slid behind a clear case on the back of your phone, clearly visible to anyone who may pass by. “You are rather clumsy. If anyone in the task force was Kira, you could have died ten times over by now.”

“I didn’t realise.” You admit quietly, reaching out to flip your phone over despite knowing it made no difference. You can feel your cheeks heating in embarrassment.

“You see the best in people. It is an endearing trait, but an entirely stupid one. Perhaps it would be safer for you to stay here. I would hate for your connections to Light and myself to put you in danger.” He doesn’t mention his suspicions of a second Kira, deciding that you would be much more cooperative if he made it appear that his concern of you being close to Light was due to the possibility of his innocence — a theory that he was finding more evidence against with each passing day.

“My instincts rarely lead me astray.” He adds after you remain silent, feet dropping to the floor so he can lean forward, reaching out with a single finger to direct you to meet his gaze. “You should consider what I said. It would be beneficial to have Light close, and I would feel more at peace if you remained, as well.”

Footsteps are heard approaching the door, and L is quick to lean back, turning his attention to the tray of sweets at his side. He hums in thought as he scans through them, paying no mind to Light as he re enters the room. L might be good at showing nothing in his expression, removing a slice of cake from the display as Light’s gaze flicks across the room, but you’ve always been awful at hiding things. He frowns as he takes in your expression, noting instantly the nervous manner in which you chew on your lower lip, unable to meet his gaze. He joins you on the sofa, placing a protective arm around your shoulders to draw you towards him.

“I shouldn’t have to ask, but you behaved while I was gone, right?” He whispers into your ear, words laced with a hint of warning. At your small nod, he scoffs. “You seem nervous. You can’t even handle a single moment without me guiding you, can you?”

Light cannot find it within himself to be surprised at the guilty expression that crosses your face at his words. You look more like a scolded puppy than girl in that moment, a look that he’s very accustomed to. 

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” he huffs, expression turning into one of annoyance. You might not be open about it, but he’s convinced something happened when you were gone. “You’ve always been more face than brains, hmm? A girl like you is pleasant to look at, but there’s clearly not much thinking happening up here, is there?”

He taps your head, and you make a small noise of protest, attempting to press further against his side to placate him. The interaction has clearly gained L’s attention, but neither you nor Light notice in the moment. “I’m sorry, we were only talking.”

Light gives a brief glance in L’s direction then, knowing he should be careful about what he says next. He’d have to play more into the jealous boyfriend role — though that would hardly be difficult with the irritation steadily rising within him. “Is that so? Just talking? Thought I told you that pretty little head should only be worrying about me?”

His words are a warning, a way of interpreting if you let too much slip. You can hear it in his tone as much as you can see it in his gaze, but before you can speak, L cuts you off.

“I was only informing her she should be more careful, seeing as you failed to address how stupid it is that she so openly displays her name in her phone case.” The words appear calm, but there’s a hint of enjoyment in L’s tone. He enjoys being able to get one over on Light, no matter how small of a win it is. Light’s expression darkens, his jaw clenching as he turns his gaze to L. “Right. So you think it’s acceptable to tell my girl how she should be acting? I can look after her myself.”

“Perhaps you’re getting sloppy,” L bites back easily, an amused smile tugging at one corner of his lips. “Your girlfriend could easily be dead by now. It could be luck, I’m sure. The more likely scenario is you didn’t care about her ID because you knew no harm would come to her. How peculiar, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Are you insinuating I’m Kira because I overlooked a simple thing? I don’t keep tabs on her every action.”

L steps in before Light has a chance to continue. “It certainly appears like you do, and I have not known you to make such easily avoidable mistakes in the time we have worked the case together. “

“Guys—” Any attempt you make to diffuse the situation is easily cut off by both men. L shushes you gently at the same time Light snaps, “Quiet!”. You shrink back instantly, expression nervous as Light’s hold on you tightens.

“I don’t like how closely you seem to be examining my relationship, Ryuzaki. Are you sure this is really about uncovering Kira? It seems more like jealousy on my end.” Light hums, a lazy grin growing on his face as he notices L’s expression shifting slightly. “Ah. I’m not wrong, am I? You like her.”

Light grins, peeling you gently away from his side. You’re confused as he guides you by your hips to stand, but you allow him to manoeuvre you without complaint. He pushes you towards L, leaning back in his seat. “Go on then. You seem convinced you can do a better job than me.”

“Light?” You say with wide eyes, stumbling slightly as he pushes you towards L. The other man looks equally surprised, though he doesn’t seem to have any issues with your sudden closeness.

“Shh, baby. You’re not cut out to be thinking all by yourself. Ryuzaki wants to show me how I should be treating you.” He coos, that soft tone he tends to reserve only for you succeeding in turning you pliant almost instantly. You nod softly, taking a few nervous steps in L’s direction. The man makes a soft noise in the back of his throat, tired eyes trailing along your figure. This is what he had wanted — another means of rising above Light, another win for under his belt. But it’s an entirely different thing to be faced with you, your eyes wide and trusting as you stop barely inches away from him.

L reaches out to touch you, and you melt. His hands grasp your hips curiously, pulling you slightly closer, almost experimentally. You let it happen, legs parting without hesitation as he drags your thighs apart with a strong grip. There’s no hint of displeasure on your face, barely even a reaction save for the soft huff of breath that spills past your lips.

“She’s good, isn’t she?” Light hums from his spot on the couch, eyes locked onto the scene in front of him. “She’ll do whatever you tell her to, you know. She takes to training exceptionally well.”

You’re sickeningly sweet, L decides as his hands slide up so they can fiddle with the hem of your pretty lace dress. It’s no wonder he finds himself increasingly infatuated with you. He has always been a fan of sweet things. Deft fingers slide under your dress and drag along your thighs, the coldness of his touch drawing goosebumps to the surface of your skin.

“I am curious.” L admits softly, his eyes leaving your body to glance directly at Light, addressing the other man as if you aren’t even there. “She seems… sensitive. Is there anything she particularly enjoys?”

Light stands then, approaching you from behind. His eyes darken as he watches the shape of L’s hand tracing your skin under your dress, an undeniable heat building in his stomach. “She’s just happy to get the attention. Isn’t that right, doll?”

Before you can respond, Light’s fingers tangle in your hair, forcing you to nod. “See? She just wants someone to look after her.”

Light’s hands join L’s, his fingers grasping the hem of your dress so he can slowly pull it upwards, exposing inch after inch of soft skin. His fingers dip under the waistband of your panties, teasingly dragging the fabric down until they drop to the floor, pooling at your ankles. “She’s prettiest here. Go on, baby, step out of them.”

You step out of them one foot at a time, eyes hazily gazing over your shoulder to meet your boyfriend’s. A cocky grin spreads across his face, his eyes flicking across your face. The smirk only widens as you let out a soft mewl when L directs his attention on your dripping cunt, parting your folds with nimble fingers.

“You’re soft,” L hums to himself, the words appearing more like an observation than a compliment. He thumbs gently over your clit, eyes shifting to take in your reaction to the touch. At the sound of your shaky sigh and the sight of your brows furrowing with pleasure, he repeats the action.

“Don’t you feel pretty like this, baby?” Light purrs, pressing himself against you from behind. The hard line of his arousal is obvious against the curve of your ass, his fingers digging into your hips as he ruts against you with a shaky sigh. “Showing off how perfect you are for me. Ryuzaki is lucky I’m letting him play with my favourite doll, isn’t he, baby?”

“Yeah…” You breathe, head tilting back against Light as L presses the tips of two fingers against your entrance, brushing against you a few times before slowly sinking them into your tight heat. 

“Shh… Just nod, baby. You’re normally better than this. I’m disappointed. Dolls aren’t supposed to speak, are they?” Light chastises lightly, his fingers digging into your soft flesh enough that it borders on painful. You bite your lip, suppressing a soft whimper as you shake your head.

“Good. Good, that’s better. I don’t want you showing me up. You’re usually so much fun to play with.”

“She’s tight.” L murmurs to himself, eyes flicking to Light’s face over your shoulder briefly before his attention returns to your cunt. He prods and pokes at you almost clinically, exploring you before withdrawing his fingers. 

“Imagine how tight she’d be taking both of us.” L groans softly at Light’s words, unable to suppress the soft noise. He was enjoying this far more than he thought he would, the rough fabric of his jeans already tenting obscenely. Light grasps your wrists, gently bringing your hands to the front of L’s jeans. “Help him take them off.”

His tone is soft, laced with that sweetness he always uses when you’re like this. The command registers a few moments later in your mind, your hands working quickly to unzip L’s jeans. You slide them down, swallowing thickly at the sound of fabric rustling behind you.

“I’m feeling… Generous.” Light hums after a moment, gently nudging you forward to straddle L’s lap. “I’ll let you have the first taste, get her ready for us both.”

“How kind.” L responds dryly, but he doesn’t hesitate in fisting his cock a few times to coax it into full hardness. He notches the head of his cock against your entrance with a barely concealed shudder, slowly pressing into you. Light waits until that cute little crease between your brows fades into pleasure before he lifts your hips slightly, allowing him to settle between L’s spread legs and line himself up. He wouldn’t want to break his favourite toy by pushing her too fast, after all.

“Relax.” Light whispers, palm rubbing up and down your back before pressing down on your tailbone, forcing you into more of an arch. He slots into you easily, his head tipping back as a quiet groan builds in his throat. He’s almost tempted to make Ryuzaki a more permanent fixture during your ‘play time’ with how deliciously the other man’s cock rubs against his own. Light’s head drops to the crook of your neck, his breaths coming out in hot pants against your skin as he rocks into you, setting a steady pace alongside L. 

You’re so full it makes you ache, and you find yourself unable to hold in the moans bubbling in your chest as both men rock their hips in tandem, their lengths rubbing against you in a way that has you seeing stars. Light clicks his tongue softly, his fingers sliding up from your hips to your throat, briefly squeezing before they continue their path to your mouth, slipping past your plump lips to press down against your tongue.

“You’re certainly vocal for a toy.” Light admonishes, punctuating his words with a particularly harsh thrust. By the time you notice the small furrow of L’s brows, the man has already decided Light’s actions are a challenge. You don’t have the time to steady yourself before he fucks into you more aggressively, ensuring each one of his thrusts has you whining around your boyfriend’s fingers. He’s determined to make you act against Light’s expectations, to have you making as many pretty noises for him as he can.

“I think she sounds sweet,” L huffs, looking up at you with a heavy-lidded gaze. His hips drag in circular motions as he tries to find your sweet spot, insistent on being the one who makes you cum. A small, proud smile tugs at his lips as you let out a particularly obscene moan, his entire focus honing in on hitting that spot with each thrust. Your moans grow increasingly louder and more garbled as Light presses his fingers further into your mouth, spit pooling past your lips and drooling down your chin as you’re filled repeatedly by both men. 

Your thighs tremble and clench desperately, your walls tightening around both lengths as your peak rapidly approaches. You’re shaking by the time your release rolls over you in waves, slick arousal gushing from you and completely soaking them both. L’s expression is undoubtedly smug as he glances at Light over your shoulder, clearly taking credit for making you feel good.

You can hear an irritated huff from behind you, Light’s thrusts growing sloppy as his own release creeps up on him. From the lazy circles L is drawing with his hips, you can tell he isn’t far behind. Light’s fingers slip past the seal of your lips with an ‘pop’, the wet digits trailing down your cheek before settling on your shoulder. He tightens his grip, using the leverage to hold you still as he ruts into your cunt desperately. He cums first, his cock pulsating as he fills your greedy cunt with his seed. 

Light rides out his orgasm with a few languid strokes, watching L’s face closely. As soon as he sees the first signs of the man’s orgasm approaching, he taps your hips twice. You register the command in an almost dazed manner, standing up on shaky legs.

L whines, his dick kicking helplessly against his stomach as he looks between the two of you. Light only grins, holding your waist in a possessive hold. 

“What? I was hardly going to let you finish inside my girl.” Light coos, voice laced with an inflated sense of pride. “Maybe next time.”

L’s expression twists to one of thinly veiled annoyance, realising it was the plan all along. Fine. He can accept his losses.

Next time, he’ll win.

[eelnoise]

one night/all night

law x fem!reader (nsfw!)

week 2 of small kinktober!

>an accidental stumble over some mysterious spores leaves both you and your captain at wits end.

cw: sex pollen, multiple orgasms, dom!law, oral sex (both), begging, semi-public sex an: god damn this one kicked my ass. but i'm finally happy with it. enjoy! wc: 4.7k

Trafalgar Law is no stranger to the oddities of this world. He's chased curiosity across enough oceans to work the fruits of his labor into a lifelong goal. 

In his pursuit for knowledge, Law bands a crew of his careful choosing together to aid with the task. Made up of dearest friends and closest confidants, the Heart Pirates are deeply loyal to their captain—even if he feels unworthy of it. 

This includes you. Brought aboard for your experience with botany and overall usefulness, you had fit in quickly—going so far as garnering Law's trust with enough relative ease that even he's grown deeply attached to you. 

He brings you in tow for most of his errands on land, not all of which you're privy to, but never once do you pry or question and Law's come to need that comfort more than he'd care to say. 

With his business concluded with his acquaintance, Law exits the small coastal cottage and finds you in the nearby clearing, sitting on your haunches and hovering over what looks like a pair of bright green mushrooms with your sketchbook in your hands.

He isn’t intentionally trying to be quiet as he strides up behind you. However, when he calls out your name, you yelp in sudden surprise, toppling forward and into whatever you had been focused on. The sole of your boot catches on one of the fungi, uprooting it, while the other disintegrates beneath your knee. The remnants hiss ominously, releasing plumes of spores from their caps that are immediately swept away by the breeze, swirling directly into both of your faces.

You try your best to roll out of the way as Law attempts to ease the situation with use of his devil fruit, but he’s too late to get the bulk of the remaining spores. 

Law’s eyes water as the spores hit his face, and he can’t help but cough and sputter. He wipes his eyes and looks at you with a mixture of annoyance and concern. “Would you please stop touching strange plants?” he asks, though his tone is far from polite.

"No. That was all you." you reply with a frown, trying to play cool despite the frustrated look on your face. The spores had caught you off guard too, filling your lungs with a strange tingling sensation that seems to be lingering. “You’re the one sneaking around like a fucking cat.”

Law's eyes narrow at your accusation, but the effect is somewhat dampened by the spores still floating in the air. He can feel them affecting his senses, making everything seem more vivid and intense. He takes a step closer to you, his gaze locked onto yours.

"I was not sneaking," he says, low and controlled. "I simply didn't want to disturb you while you were so focused on your work. But now that I see the mess you've made, I can't help but wonder if you're even capable of handling a simple task without causing chaos."

You roll your eyes at him and rise to your feet, brushing the dirt off your sketchpad and tucking it into your pack before doing the same with your boiler suit. "I was trying to document enough of it for research back on the sub, which is, you know, my job."

Law shakes his head and pinches his nose with a sigh. "Doesn't matter. Now let’s go; we don’t have much daylight left." He turns on his heel and starts walking, clearly expecting you to follow.

As you fall into step beside him, Law can't help but notice the way his attention seems to be constantly drawn to you. Your movements are slightly more exaggerated, your breathing a bit heavier than usual. He tries to focus on the path ahead, but finds his gaze constantly drawn to your form.

"What exactly were you hoping to learn from those mushrooms?" he asks, more to distract himself than out of genuine curiosity. "I thought your expertise was more in... practical plants."

He can feel the heat of your body next to his, the scent of your skin mingling with the earthy aroma of the forest. It's intoxicating and though he knows he should just take the lead—to put you out of sight even if temporarily—but he can't bring himself to stray too far from you.

Part of you wants to argue—to explain just how and why he’s wrong, and how his position as your captain doesn’t excuse the sheer audacity of his words. Yet you sigh in defeat; it simply isn’t worth it.

"To be fair, they may very well have been 'practical,'" you begin, wiping the uncomfortable sweat from your brow. "The plan was to sketch it, take some notes, and look into my books back on in my room for more information."

"Plus, I was bored. You were taking a while, you know?" You look up at him, and the way he’s already looking back down at you makes the heat rise in your neck.

Law's eyes flicker to your face, taking in the flushed cheeks and the quick breaths. "Boredom is no excuse for recklessness," he mutters, his tone a little rougher than intended.

The dusty road widens into the overgrown remnants of what was once this island's capital. Charred ruins of stone and wood mark the past, leaving behind winding streets of crumbling buildings covered in ash and soot, the smell of smoke lingering in the dry air.

Acres of scarred, lifeless land remain forever trapped in its moment of doom. It’s a bleak sight—and that’s putting it lightly.

Law leads the way down the debris-strewn street. He keeps his senses on high alert, scanning the dilapidated buildings for any signs of movement or danger, but the heat is oppressive, and it only adds to the growing tension coiling in his gut.

Silence falls between you, and Law’s mind begins to wander. His fist clenches tightly around the brim of his hat, both troubled and irritated. Those spores have surely fucked with him, and now he’s faced with the circumstance of it being you that fate has left him in this condition with.

He just had to keep you instead of allowing you to pair off with Ikkaku. Didn’t he? He could have He could have—should have—gone it alone, but this time, his damn pride may finally be his fall.

Though he can’t deny the effect it’s having on him—the way his heart races and how his body responds to your closeness. He’s always been attracted to you, convinced he didn’t have the time or reason to piece it all together, but this feels... different.

Law doesn't know if he's angry at himself or if he's frustrated with you—accident or not, those spores are doing something to him. There's no other way to explain the artificial intensity pumping through his veins.

The grip on his sword tightens, the hilt digging into his palm as he struggles to focus on the weight of his duty instead of the intoxicating allure of the way you look, the scent that envelops him, and the mesmerizing way your body moves beside him, each glance a reminder of the reckless desire brewing within.

Meanwhile your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, most of them incoherent and centered around the growing desire that seems to be tangling in your belly.

Sweat trickles down your neck, and your skin feels like it’s tingling. What the fuck is this heat? 

Your first instinct is to blame the spores, for while yearning for your captain is nothing new, this longing feels heightened, almost overwhelming, as if the very air around you has stoked a smoldering desire deep inside.

You’ve encountered your share of strange plant life, but a mycelium with enough substance to trigger this much of a response from a fully grown person? Nearly impossible.

But what the hell do you know?

Trying to push away your thoughts, you force your steps to match the rhythm of Law’s. You can feel his gaze, acutely aware of how he leans in occasionally to avoid brushing against you. The tension between you is palpable, and it's making you feel a little disoriented.

You’re unsure how much longer you can maintain the charade of feigned composure. Every step feels heavy, and every breath is shallow and labored. The heat of the sun is nothing compared to the fire building inside you, threatening to consume you whole.

You lose count of Law’s footsteps as you try to cool off by fanning yourself, pulling your hair up, and drinking your fair share of water from the bottle you carry in your pack—but nothing seems to help. Something’s gotta give, or you’re going to melt.

Without a shred of a second thought, you unzip the heavy suit and slide your arms out of the sleeves, tying them around your waist. You sigh in relief as the breeze flows over your arms and through the thin fabric of your tank top, but it does little to truly soothe the lingering heat between your thighs.

Law's breath catches in his throat as he hears the sound of your zipper. He tries to keep his eyes forward, but his gaze is drawn to your form like a magnet. The sight of your exposed skin, glistening with sweat in the fading sunlight, sends a bolt of pure lust straight to his core.

He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry. The heat that had been building inside him reaches a new level, and he can feel his cock straining against the confines of his pants.

Trafalgar Law's eyes rake over you, taking in the sight of your flushed skin and the way your chest rises and falls with your heavy breaths. The emphasis of his tone iis rough as he asks, "How do you feel?"

It's a loaded question, one that he hopes will reveal just how much those spores have affected you. He's afraid to know the answer, but he can't help but want to hear it.

Your voice wavers slightly as you try to maintain a facade of calm. "I... I'm not sure," you admit, your eyes unable to break away from his intense gaze. "Hot. Really hot."

You take a step closer, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. The air between you feels charged, electric. "Are you okay?" you ask him in a soft whisper.

Law's eyes widen at your question, surprised by your boldness. He hadn't expected you to be so direct, so forthcoming about what you were feeling. He takes a step closer, closing the distance between you until your bodies are almost touching.

Law's fist clenches at his side, knuckles turning white. He's not okay. He's so far from okay it's laughable. But he can't tell you that. He can't tell you about how he's been left him in a state of constant arousal, that every nerve ending in his body is screaming for attention, for relief. 

For you.

"I’m fine," he replies through gritted teeth, the lie lingering in the air between you. He can smell you now; the scent of your sweat is intoxicating, pulling him further into disorientation.

"You don't look fine. Maybe I can–" You trail off, your eyes growing into a half-lidded daze as you trail down his body, taking a long look at the way his muscles ripple in his arms before snapping back up to his face with an awkward cough that doesn't really hide anything.

Your eyes meet Law's, and the intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down your spine. You see the desire burning in his eyes, mirroring the heat coursing through your veins.

You take another step closer, your heart pounding in your chest. Your hand reaches out, fingers trembling slightly as they brush against his chest. "Maybe I can help," you whisper, barely audible over the sound of his racing pulse.

He feels his resolve crumbling with your touch, your sultry tone and hungry gaze sending shivers down his spine. He wants to push you away, to maintain his composure, but his body betrays him.

"You don't understand," he grunts, tilting his face away from you. But even as he speaks, his hands are moving of their own accord, reaching out to grab your hips and pull you closer. "I can't... I shouldn't..."

This isn’t how he wanted this to go.

"Law," your voice calling his name eases the rumble in his head, instantly clearing the chaos of his relentless thoughts. "I want to help you. Anything..."

Law's pupils dilate at your words as something snaps within him, crashing his lips against yours in a fierce, demanding kiss. His hands pillow the impact as you're shoved against the cast-off remains of a building built from stone. He nips at your bottom lip, urging you to open for him, and when you do, he plunges his tongue into your mouth, claiming you with a passion that steals the breath from your lungs.

Law's grip on your hips tightens, pulling you closer until you can feel the hard length of his cock pressed against your belly. The heat between you is palpable, as is the need that rolls off him in waves.

"Tell me you want this," he growls into you, lips barely breaking contact with yours. "Tell me you need me as much as I need you."

Your breathing hitches as his demand echoes in your ears. You bite your lip, weighing the consequences of giving in. But then, you look deep into his eyes, seeing the hunger reflected in your own.

"Yes," you whisper,  trembling with desire. "I want this. I need you, Captain."

Law's eyes flash with triumph, and he wastes no time in responding to your plea. His hands move to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he wraps your legs around his waist. He pins you against the stone wall, his hips grinding against yours in a rhythm that's both torturous and exhilarating.

His hands roam your body, caressing your curves as if he's memorizing every inch of you. He breaks the kiss, only to trail his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there. "Taste so good," he murmurs, the husky rasp of his voice tickling your flesh.

Law's hands make short work of your clothing, peeling at the fabric of your shirt and tugging it your shoulders leaving you bare chested before him. He takes a moment to drink in the sight of you, his attention roving over your body with a hunger that makes your skin prickle with anticipation.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, his calloused fingers tracing the curve of your breast, the dip of your waist, the flare of your hip. "Perfect."

He lowers his head, taking your nipple into his mouth and suckling greedily. His teeth graze the sensitive surface, sending jolts of lightning through your veins.

You gasp at the sensation, arching into his touch. Your  hands find their way into his hair, knocking his hat off in the process of tangling your fingers in the dark, raven strands as you write and shiver under his touch.

"Law," you moan, your words breathy and filled with yearning. "Please..."

You're not sure what you're begging for, but you know you need more. You need him. All of him.

He obliges you with a final, harsher nibble to your hardened bud before pulling away to trail his lips down your torso. Long fingers slide from your hips to unzip and shuffle the remainder of the suit down over your legs to fall in a heap around your ankles.

Law’s breath hovers over your panties, inches away from where you’re dying for contact.

“Move these.” He commands. "Show me."

Your body thrums with want, his imposing tone weakening you into desire borne of flame. Your  hands tremble as you hook your fingers into the front waistband of your panties and slowly slides to the side. The cool air hits your heated skin, making you shiver. 

Law’s eyes lock onto your exposed sex, his gaze burning into you. He doesn’t hesitate, diving in to taste you, his tongue flicking out to tease at your clit. You whimper at the sensation, your body arching up off the wall in response.

He buries his face between your thighs, licking and sucking, his fingers gripping your hips to hold you steady while his tongue works its magic. You can feel the intensity building within you, every single one of your senses feels like they're working overdrive.

Law's tongue swirls around your clit, alternating between flicking and sucking, as his fingers delve into your wet heat. He groans against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body.

His fingers twist inside you, stroking along your inner walls and hitting that sweet spot that makes your toes curl.

Law's skilled tongue and fingers work in perfect harmony, driving you further and further towards the edge. You can feel the pressure building, the need to release coiling tighter and tighter within you.

"Captain," you moan, your wails a broken plea. "Please... please, I need..."

Law doesn't let up, continuing to lap at your sensitive flesh as you ride out your orgasm. He relishes in the taste of you, in the way your body shudders against him, and the sounds of your pleasure. You cry out, the orgasm ripping through you, your body shuddering and trembling as waves of pleasure crash through you.

As your trembling subsides, he stands, his eyes dark with lust and his lips glistening with your juices. "On your knees," he utters, his tone low and gravelly, resonating with an intensity that captivates.

You comply, quickly discarding your shoes and the remainder of your clothing onto the dusty ground below and sink to your knees. You sit patiently as you look up at him through your lashes and watch as he wastes no time in freeing himself from the confines of his jeans, his cock springing forth, hard and ready.

"Suck."

He doesn't give you any more instructions, simply guides your head forward, positioning his cock at your lips. You open your mouth, wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, and begin to suck.

Musky and slightly salty—you relish in his taste, and as he begins to guide your motions your mouth is filled full again and again, the tip of his length rutting so far down your throat that your eyes begin to water. 

But you love it. Fuck, you love it.

Law groans, his head falling back as he savors the feeling of your mouth around him. He tangles his fingers in your hair, using it as leverage to control the pace, pushing deeper with each thrust.

"Fuck, just like that," he growls, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock into your throat.

You can feel him growing harder, his cock throbbing against your tongue as he nears his release. His grip on your hair tightens, and he holds you in place as he begins to fuck your face in earnest, chasing his pleasure.

You gag with each powerful thrust as spit and drool drench along his cock.

Law's eyes roll back in his head, a low moan escaping his lips as he feels your throat constrict around him. He can feel his orgasm building, the pressure in his balls growing with each thrust.

Law's grip on your hair tightens as he nears the edge, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he hisses, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

Law's orgasm rips through him, his cock pulsing as he empties himself into your mouth. You choke and gag around his cock, some of his cum escaping from your nose as he holds you in place.

He grunts, his grip on your hair loosening as the last of his seed spills into you. "Fuck, that's it," he pants, his cock still twitching as he pulls out of your mouth, leaving you to cough and gasp for air.

Law takes a moment to catch his breath, his chest heaving as he looks down at you. "Stand up," he commands.

As you rise to your feet, he takes a step back, his eyes roaming over your naked form. "Turn around," he orders, "ass out." Law's hands grip your hips as he positions you, his fingers digging into your skin. "Spread your legs," he orders.

You comply, bracing yourself against the wall as you feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. He teases you, rubbing the tip up and down your slit, coating himself in your juices.

"Beg for it," he demands, his breath hot against your ear. "Beg me to fuck you."

"Please, Captain," you whimper, your body aching for him. "Please, please fuck me. I need your cock or I'm gonna go fucking crazy. "

Law's control snaps at your desperate plea. With a primal grunt, he thrusts into you, filling you in one swift motion. The feeling of his thick cock stretching you open is overwhelming, and you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure. 

He sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with a force that rocks your body against the wall. Your hands scrabble for purchase, nails digging into the stone as he fucks you with wild abandon.

Law's hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise, holding you in place as he rails into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the ruins, punctuated by your moans and his grunts of exertion.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his hips snapping forward with each thrust. "Take it, take my cock."

His fingers find your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation sends you hurtling towards another climax, your body tensing as the pressure builds within you.

With a loud cry unto the heavens, you gush around his cock, clenching as if milking him for everything he's got to give.

And fuck he wants to give you his all. Wants to empty himself into you over and over again until the only word you know is his name.

Law's hips buck, driving into you as you orgasm, his fingers digging into your flesh as he rides out your climax. The sound of your name on your lips is enough to send him over the edge, his body tensing as he releases inside you, his seed filling you up.

He holds you there, still buried deep within you, his breathing heavy as he regains control. "Mine," he breathes, his tone thick with possession.

But he doesn't stop, he can't stop indulging in you. For so long has he wanted this— wanted you— and some of him thanks fate for this, admittedly large and unexpected push into coming around to his feelings. 

His pace only slows as he tilts your head backward to catch your lips in a kiss.

Law's lips move against yours, the kiss deep and possessive. He swallows your moans, his tongue delving into your mouth to taste you.

His hands roam your body, caressing your curves, mapping out every inch of you. He breaks the kiss, only to trail his lips down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin.

"Again," he orders, his hips never ceasing their relentless pace. "Come for me again."

His fingers find your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation is too much, the edges of your vision begin to blur as you can feel another wave of delirium crash over you.

Law pulls orgasm after orgasm from your well loved, exhausted form. He thinks himself insatiable— that he will never have his fill of you. Over and over does the rhythm of his motions continue, his balls slapping against your clit in a tangle that rivals two animals in heat.

The relentless pursuit of your pleasure is unyielding. You cry out his name with each orgasm, your body quivering and shaking as he brings you to the edge time and time again.

His own lust grows with each climax you offer, the spores heightening the intensity of the experience. He's a beast, unyielding and unrelenting, his focus solely on claiming your body as his own.

Finally, as the sun dips below the horizon, casting the ruins in a warm glow, Law's orgasms become fewer and farther between. Eventually, he collapses against your back in an exhausted huff.

Law's body slumps against yours, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. He nuzzles into your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he places soft kisses along your neck and shoulder.

"Fuck, that was incredible," he murmurs, voice hoarse from exertion. "Felt amazing."

He pulls out of you slowly, his cock slipping from your well-used body. You both wince at the sudden emptiness, but the sensation is quickly replaced by a deep sense of satisfaction.

Law turns you around, his hands cupping your face as he looks into your eyes. "You're amazing," he says, and you can tell he’s sincere.

He leans in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. It's a stark contrast to the frenzied passion you've experienced throughout the day, but no less intense.

When he pulls away, you're both breathless. "Let's get cleaned up and head back to the sub," he suggests, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. 

Law carefully assists you with your scattered clothing, his hands move with a gentle touch, helping you dress. His fingers linger on your skin, stealing soft caresses as he does.

Once you're both clothed and covered, he takes your hand, intertwining your fingers. "Ready?" he asks, his eyes sparkling with a softness you don't recognize.

You give him a nod and he pulls you close, slipping his hand into yours as the two of you begin to walk together out of the rubble and back into the direction of civilization. 

"What about those ruins? Weren't we looking for something?" You ask curiously, craning your neck to peer up at him with a raised brow.

"We'll come back for the ruins," Law says, squeezing your hand reassuringly. "For now, I think the both of us need some rest." 

"But aren't you worried about questions from the others? We aren't exactly showing up looking innocent, you know."

He grins down at you, a warm sparkle in his eye. "Don't worry, I can teleport us straight into my cabin from outside the sub. That way, you won't have to face the crew in such disarray."

You know he's honest, and so you let yourself relax and lean into his shoulder. The closeness is nice, and with the heightened exhilaration finally ebbing away it feels nice. 

It feels real.

When Law decides you’re close enough to the coast, the world around you shifts in an instant, and suddenly you’re enveloped in the cozy warmth of his cabin aboard the Polar Tang.

You accept his invitation to use his shower, and your heart leaps in your chest when he slips in behind you to wrap his long arms around your waist. The hot water cascades over your bodies, washing away the sweat and dirt from your day of exploration.

Law takes his time, his hands roaming your body as he cleans you. It's a tender gesture, a stark contrast to the frenzied passion from earlier.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice soft as he cups your face. "I know today was... intense."

You nod, leaning into his touch. "I'm more than okay," you murmur, a smile tugging at your lips. "I'm happy."

Law smiles, his thumb brushing your cheekbone as he gazes into your eyes. "Me too," he whispers, before leaning in to capture your lips in a slow, tender kiss.

He takes his time, savoring the feel of your mouth against his, the water cascading over your entwined bodies. When he finally pulls away, you're both breathless, your hearts racing in sync.

That night, you curl up in his bed, snuggled against his chest. A calmness fills the room, wrapping you in a soothing aura. Your captain is sound asleep, no doubt exhausted from the day’s events, and while uncertainty lingers about what comes next now that the spores are out of your system, that’s a worry for another day; for now, you find solace in his embrace.

[teruuu]

The feeling’s mutual buddy

CW: Cannibalism and Blood

The sexual tension is through the roof

Anyways there’s your narinder scar backstory

Spoiler alert: He currently parades em’ around like a trophy. Like “Look! Look! Your leader gave me these scars. Have they ever done the same to you? No! You are unworthy.” Lmao

[t-a-a-1]

CW: pregnancy and complications talks about below.

I can’t help but think Optimus wouldn’t fully understand the true horrors/pain that human pregnancy entails.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s not an idiot. He’d do his research. He’d prepare to the best of his ability. But there’s a massive difference between learning and experiencing. He knows this and thinks he’s mentally prepared for everything.

But complications during labor? (Which, if your a human pregnant with a cybertronian….). Idk how he’d handle it.

I’d imagine that Optimus would try to remain calm. Collected. But easily break apart. This poor Prime is one loss from a total break down.

Anything could go wrong. Emergency C-sections? Total nightmare for him. The idea of you needing to be cut open terrifies him more than he’s willing to admit.

Too weak to continue with labor? He’ll panic. Honestly I actually see him blaming HIMSELF for the ordeal you go through. I mean HE put that sparkling inside of you. Yet YOU have to suffer. He’d want to take away the pain. The sickness. The weakness.

He won’t even entertain the idea of losing you or your sparkling. I feel like the very idea of it happening would break something inside his processor.

Idk, I love your writing with pregnant reader and Optimus. I especially love the “code” aspect of Optimus acting out. That poor confused boy.

You are so smart for this dear Anon! 

I think you are totally right, Optimus would totally freak out especially since he still can’t fully capture the whole pregnancy concept nor how humans’ bodies are capable of creating life. He has a sort of fascination towards the idea and also fear since he can’t understand it. 

I think when it comes to this, Pregnant Reader! Would be the one to explain to him the process (Although Reader is also very scared, being the first human to give birth to a human-alien hybrid) but you reassured him that the best doctors and nurses would be there to tend to you if anything happens.

Then you start explaining to him the possibilities. 

Optimus: What if you are in pain? 

Reader: Well, they will pierce my skin with a needle and inject me with some liquid to try and relieve the pain. 

Optimus: faints 

And if you tell him about a possible C-section? He would start having a panic attack. And when the doctors tell Optimus (to just in case, Primus forbid)  to start preparing for the worst possible outcome? His processor can’t even fully understand that. What is worse than being cut open? Then you tell him that childbirth can be fatal in certain cases. 

His processor’s codes would absolutely go insane. 

“Sparkmate In Danger. Ensure Safety. In Case Of Loss, Activate Spark-Exchange Codes.” 

I would like to think that Cybertronians only have one ‘mate’ their whole lives. But in case of death, they are able to give their own spark to their Sparkmate, ensuring a second chance in life. 

But poor Optimus, you are not Cybertronian so he can’t give you his Spark and that mentally destroys him. The possibility that you can die (because HE made you pregnant) and that he can’t even give his life to you makes him feel like he has failed you as a partner. Like in his eyes, he can’t even do the bare minimum and feels unworthy. 

He will try to keep quiet about how he feels so as to not make you worry but then the day comes and he breaks down, he can’t do it. He can’t fathom you in pain or the mere thought of losing you. His servos tremble. 

But you can tell right away that something is off. And when you ask him ‘What’s wrong?’ he starts breaking down and tells you how he feels. And of course, you comfort him immediately, being the only one who Optimus can let his guard down. Not feeling the need to hide his feelings, worries, nor tears any longer.