#first light request!!

[morbiderotica]

Hii! I saw your writing for Mello about having sex for the first time etc, and I was wondering if you could write something like that for Light?? Thank you!!

★ SMELLS LIKE HONEY & SEX ─ fem!reader

#WARNINGS ─ smut, first time sex, sadist!light, probs ooc light, sorry this took so long

#SUMMARY ─ "the room was warm and your stomach was in knots. light's fingers rubbing circles into your hips." there's a first time for everything.

the room was warm and your stomach was in knots. light's fingers rubbing circles into your hips. you're legs on either side of light with you on his lap. you had never been this close to him. your eyes scanned every part of his face. "are you alright?" he held back a laugh at the sight of you mesmerized by him. "yeah." you whispered, leaning down to close the gap between you.

his lips were soft, you knew that though. it wasn't the first time you've kissed him but this time was just different. this time you were on top of him wearing only one of his old t-shirts and your underwear. he pulled away from the kissing, looking up at you with a look you've never seen him have.

his hands slipped under your shirt, rubbing up your clammy skin. you gasped at the feeling of his cold hands. "light." you whisper his name and his actions stop, his eyes meeting yours once again. "what is it?" he asks, but he knows. he can see it in your eyes and he can hear it in your voice. you bit your lip, contemplating what to say or how to say it.

"i.." you begin and light lets a smirk slide onto your face. "yes? you what?" it was oh so sick a twisted of him to tease you like this, a small whine squeezing past your swollen lips. "i need you." it was quiet and fast, and red embarrassment spread across your face seconds after you said it. light's hands gave your waist a little squeeze as he leaned a little closer to you.

"sorry, what was that?" you pout at his words. you know he heard you. "light." you whine with a little annoyance to which he laughs. "okay, okay." he lifts you off his lap and lays you down on the bed. he hovers over you and you're suddenly the butterflies in your stomach are fluttering more than they ever have as the realization that this is really happening for the first time sets in.

he gently slides your shirt up to expose your stomach. he leaves small kisses on your lower stomach as his free hand wraps around your thigh, pulling you just a little closer to him. your breath hitched with each kiss. he lifted his head up, looking at you once more before moving his hands to your underwear, toying with your waistband.

he gently pulled them down, putting them aside on the bed. the warm air was cool on your exposed cunt. sure, light always tried to act stoic and he always had a poker face on, but this time he just couldn't. "fuck." he whispered at the sight of you. his hand landed on your thigh, rubbing gently as he just looked at you. the way you were completely at his mercy intrigued him.

you watched light as he leaned his head down and started leaving kisses on your cunt. you moaned at the feeling and quickly threw your hand over your mouth. it wasn't long before he was fully tongue fucking you. you muffley moaned through your hand. the all too unfamiliar feeling taking over your body.

light lifts his head up wiping the corners of his mouth with his thumb. his hands are going back to your shirt, lifting you up by your back softly to remove the shirt from your body. he admires your body for a moment, taking in the sight of you, saving it in his mind like he'll never see it again. "it's unfair that you're still dressed." your voice breaks him from his trance-like state.

he chuckles lowly before leaning down to kiss you. "is it now?" he mumbles against your lips. you nod your head and light can't help but find it adorable. "alright, fine." he sits back up and starts unbuttoning his button-down shirt. you watch intently with purpose, you've seen light unbutton his shirts before.

like when he changed them or they were too suffocating, but this time, knowing he was unbuttoning it because you wanted him to or because you were naked and you wanted things to be fair, it was far better. once he finishes unbuttoning the shirt he slides it off and nicely folds it and places it next to where he rested your underwear and shirt. "i suppose i should take these off too, hm?" he gestured to his pants as he started undoing his belt.

again you watched intently. you hadn't realized how needy you were until this very moment. it was silent apart from his belt clattering and the zipper of his pants buzzing. the anticipation was killing you. you were so eager by now, more eager than you've ever been in your life. light was left in just his boxers now and god, was he enjoying torturing you with patience.

you brought your hand down to your clit, trying to ease any ache that you could. light couldn't help but laugh at how desperate you were, watching as you touch your swollen clit just for him. as much as he enjoyed the view he was quick to move your hand away. your saddened face was just enough for him to finally pull off his boxers.

"i'm much better than your hand." he cockily admitted, lining himself up with your entrance. you didn't even have the time to admire how big he was before he was pushing into you. you moaned loudly into your hand, muffling the sound. light reached up to your face and removed your hand from your mouth, pinning both of your hands above your head with just his one hand.

his other hand rested on your stomach, his thumb gently rubbing your tummy as he let you get used to the way his dick stretched you out. he didn't bother asking if you were ready, the way you squeeze around him was enough confirmation. his thrusts were slow and steady. you tried to keep your moans low and quiet but the way he slid in and out of you gently but also rough at the same time was too euphoric.

"there you go, honey, just relax." he watched with a smirk on his face as your face contorted in pleasure. he couldn't even believe he had waited so long to feel the inside of your pussy. his grunts were low and periodic, wanting to hear the pretty noises that you were making instead.

© 2023 MORBIDEROTICA

[fiber-optic-alligator]

Hello! I’ve always been curious about the “human in a space shuttle somehow ends up on a cybertronian ship and all the bots are trying to figure out what this random metal this is while the human is terrified” plot.

It would be interesting to see it played out with any character, but for the sake of direction, I’d like to request this with the Lost Light Crew?

It could be vore if that’s what you feel like wrong at the time, but I’d also go for some good ‘ol fearplay.

I apologize if this is too vague, have a good day/night and I love your writing!

Thank you for the request Glitch! I hope this is up to your expectations! I hope you don't mind that I picked specific members of the Lost Light crew to include in this story. Feedback is always appreciated! Have a great day/night as well! :D

Doctor’s (And Scientist’s) Orders

Pairing: IDW Ratchet, IDW Perceptor, and IDW First Aid x Human Reader

Word Count: 3115

Summary: You are a teacher who is being sent from Earth to a colony on Mars. A new life as an educator for the red planet’s children is on your horizon…until you are thrown terribly off course and end up in the bowels of the Lost Light. All seems lost for you when you find yourself injured and cut off from human society, at the mercy of the three Cybertronians who end up finding you and taking you in, whether you want them to or not.

The first thing you hear when you come to is the horrid screeching of your ship's alarms.

  You groan and sit up. Smoke and flickering emergency lights greet you when you open your eyes. Electricity sparks from the stasis tank you were asleep in. Gas spurts from the ceiling, and everything is strewn about with the chaotic air of a tornado that just tore through an entire town.

“Warning,” your ship’s AI urgently alerts. “Breach detected. Damage is collateral. Warning-warning-” It sputters and fizzles out.

  You rub the back of your head and feel something warm and sticky coat your palm. When you pull your hand back to take a closer look, you see blood.

  Shit. That’s not good.

  Standing up makes you feel like you are going to puke. Your head throbs and every breath you take sends piercing pain through your chest. Dragging yourself out of the stasis pod takes longer than it should while black spots dot your vision as you stumble to the dashboard and press your hands against it. “Run ship diagnostics,” you manage to rasp. The voice that struggles to exit your mouth is one you hardly recognize. It is thin and strewn with violent coughs. A metallic taste coats your tongue. More blood.

  The AI glitches as it attempts to answer you. “Severe damage to hull. Severe damage to engines. Severe damage to thrusters. Life support online, but rapidly depleting. Escape pod offline.”

  “Shit,” you breathe. “Try contacting Earth control.”

  “Communications systems offline. Attempting self-repairs. Current status…5%.”

  “How long until repairs are complete?”

  “Estimations indicate repairs will be completed in…5 days.”

  Not good. Not good at all. You push yourself away from the dashboard and take in all that has happened. This was not how the mission was supposed to go. When you were chosen to be sent to Earth’s Mars colony as a teacher for the young children growing up on the red planet, you thought it would be a smooth seven month trip with you peacefully slumbering away in stasis. You were supposed to be woken up by fellow human beings, not a devastating crash resulting in your ship being decimated. Something must have thrown you off course. A freak asteroid strike probably. Which begs the question…where exactly are you?

  Ignoring how much pain you are in, you hobble through the remains of the vessel and head for the airlock doors. They remain tightly shut when you make it to them, hiding the knowledge of where you are from view. “Open the doors,” you call out to the ship.

  “Warning. Remaining onboard is strongly recommended. Current exterior environment is unknown.”

  “Override. Open the doors.”

  The doors whoosh apart. You know there’s oxygen outside. If there hadn’t been, the ship would have prevented you from even entering the airlock chamber in the first place. Stepping off, you expect to see the barren landscape of Mars, or the alien environment of some other planet you might have ended up on. Part of you thinks you might still be on Earth; perhaps something went wrong with the ship before you could even break the Troposphere.

  What you see surprises you. You are in some sort of…massive cargo hold.

  Gigantic metal crates surround you, most of them exuding a pinkish glow. There are lights on the ceiling far above you, but they are dim, and serve little aid in giving you an estimate of just how large this place is. Turning in a circle, you feel awe fill you. “Yeah,” you murmur to yourself. “The ship definitely didn’t crash on Mars.”

  Speaking of your ship…you take in the damage. It's an absolute mess of warped, crippled metal doomed to remain collapsed on its side until self-repairs are complete. It would take days, maybe even weeks, for damage of this caliber to be fixed beyond the communications systems. With no way to contact Earth or Mars, you truly are stuck.

  You close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose. Calm. You are calm. There is absolutely nothing to worry about. Yes, your ship is destroyed. Yes, you are suffering from critical wounds. Yes, you are in an unknown place with seemingly no way out. But you're alive. That’s what matters. And now you just have to survive for five more days.

  You hear thumping in the distance.

  It takes you a moment to register the pattern of heavy steps that are coming towards you. It’s something alive, you realize with dawning horror. Wherever you are, you have obviously made quite a racket, and now this planet’s local faunal residents are going to seek you out. There’s no way for you to know exactly what sorts of animals live here; any technology you might have used to your advantage is directly connected to the ship. With the ship offline, thus go the tools as well. You are completely in the dark, relying only on the little information about alien lifeforms you have to keep you safe.

  You don’t need that information to know you have to hide right now.

  You scurry back into the ship, biting back a shout of pain. God, there’s pain everywhere. How have you not passed out yet? Adrenaline does wonders for the human body, you sourly think to yourself when you have to lean against the wall to catch your breath. A hacking cough swells within your chest. When you cover your mouth with your elbow and release it, blood is splattered over your suit sleeve.

  That’s when you hear the growling.

  It’s unlike anything you have ever heard before. You’ve studied a multitude of animals. You’ve heard big cats roar, wolves howl, hyenas cackle, and birds screech. This is not a growl you can associate with any of those. It…holds similar qualities. But there’s something about it that remains blatantly off.

  It sounds strangely like the growl of a machine.

  You look outside of the airlock doors, and something huge lumbers out from behind a stack of crates. The first things your brain registers are its red and white armor platings, its bright blue eyes, and the horn-like finials extending from its forehead. It’s humanoid, yet possesses qualities that remove it from any such grouping. This thing is definitely not like you in any sort of way beyond having a face and walking on two legs.

  “It’s…a robot,” you whisper. It’s a giant fucking robot moving all on its own, and looking none too happy to be here.

  The mechanical creature snarls, lips upturning to reveal sharp canines that are probably longer than your arms. It hasn’t noticed you yet. Its focus is trained on the datapad it holds in its hands. Your mind is blown. This is obviously a member of a clearly intelligent race. Have you just discovered a new extraterrestrial species?

  The robot looks up. At first, its eyes scan the crates around you, and it doesn't seem to notice the little ship nestled between them. You remain still, prey instinct taking its course and demanding you freeze where you are. Hopefully it will just move on…

  It backtracks, and to your utter horror, it makes direct eye contact with you.

  Fucking shit, you think.

  The robot stares at you with an expression of pure shock. You stare right back with an equal amount of terror.

  It steps towards you. That’s all it takes for you to scream at the ship. “Close the airlock doors! Close them now!”

  The doors slam shut. You hear a shout from the robot, and everything shakes as it thunders forward. You stumble and fall with agony ripping through your poor body when you make contact with the floor. The cry that leaves you is riddled with pain.

  “A-Activate self-defense protocol!” you order the ship.

  “Self-defense protocols offline,” it says back.

  “Well, how long until they are online?!”

  “Estimated time equals…ten hours.”

  “That’s not enough!” you scream rawly.

  A gentle tapping echos from the other side of the doors.

  You push yourself back, heart pounding as you listen to the robot move all around you. It’s growling softly to itself, and you can hear it touching the ship, running massive mechanical fingers across the walls that act as the only barrier between you and potential doom.

  You don’t know what to do. Panic makes you frantic and you desperately try to think of how you can get yourself away from the monster outside. You have no way to defend yourself. You can’t even run. This thing wants you out, and you know it has the power to rip your ship apart in order to get to you if it wishes for it.

  Suddenly, everything rocks. Your stomach drops when the entire ship shakes and you feel it being lifted into the air. Realization of what is happening hits you: it’s picking it up. If it can’t get you, it’ll just have to take everything.

  “Nononono!” you cry out. The ship tips a little, and you slam into a wall with a grunt. “Stop!” You bang your fists against the metal. “Put it down! Put it down now!”

  The robot simply growls in reply. You don’t even know if it hears you. There’s nothing you can do to stop this. You slump back and cover your face as hot, helpless tears finally begin running down your cheeks.

  “What exactly is it?” First Aid asks as he peers down at the mangled hunk of metal sitting before them on the medibay berth.

  “It’s a ship,” Perceptor flatly replies with a silent “What else would it be?” evident in his tone.

  “This is a ship?” First Aid looks horrified. “But it's completely destroyed! How could it have gotten here?”

  “It must have crashed during our last refueling.” Perceptor lays his servos over the top of the ship, examining it closely. He huffs and straightens, looking at Ratchet. “Where did you find it?”

  “The cargo hold,” the medic replies. “I was down there searching for some extra medical supplies I know we have stored. I wouldn’t have seen it if it hadn’t been for what’s inside.”

  “There’s something alive in there?” First Aid gasps.

  “A human,” Ratchet replies. “It locked itself inside when it saw me.”

  “Impossible.” Perceptor shakes his helm. “Humans are an endangered species that only occupy a small sector of a primitive solar system. They don’t have the technology to make it this far out in space.”

  “Well, clearly they do. I know what I saw. These old optics aren’t that far gone.” Ratchet raps his knuckles gently against the ship. All three mechs have to lean in close so they can hear the soft squeak from inside.

  “How do we get it out?” First Aid asks. “It could be hurt!”

  “It is hurt,” Ratchet answers. “I saw it before it hid itself away. I don’t know how severe the injuries are, but I know it's in pain.”

  “Then what are we waiting for? We need to help it!” First Aid presses his forehelm against the ship and whispers softly. “Hello, little human? Please don’t be afraid! We aren’t going to hurt you!”

  A whimper is all he gains in reply.

  Perceptor crosses his arms. “I can force it out, but you won’t like how I do it.”

  “You can’t hurt it,” Ratchet sharply snaps. “That would be cruel.”

  “I’m not going to hurt it,” the scientist bites back. “I’m simply going to pump a nontoxic gas into the ship that will cause it to eventually lose consciousness. It will have no choice but to come out, and then we can go on from there.”

  “Are…are you sure?” First Aid wrings his servos nervously. “I don’t want it to be scared of us.”

  “Whether it’s scared of us or not doesn’t matter,” Ratchet says. “It’s injured, and if we don’t do something, it’ll succumb to those injuries. It’ll understand we don’t want to hurt it after we patch it up.” He nods to Perceptor. “Go ahead, smoke it out.”

  The scientist’s right servo transforms into a syringe. Ratchet watches with anxiousness churning in his tank as Perceptor presses his left index digit against the side of the ship and presses a small hole straight through with little resistance to stop him. A terrified shout from the human within causes First Aid to whimper.

  Perceptor sticks the upper part of the syringe into the hole, pumping gas into the ship and pulling it back out after a moment, wisps of vapor trailing from the tip. A few seconds later Ratchet hears a string of weak coughs from inside. There is a tense moment where all three of them stand there, and then the doors open and you stumble out with a cloud of gas nearly enveloping your tiny form. You wheeze into your servos, then notice the mechs staring at you and try sprinting right back into the ship. Perceptor cuts you off, slamming his servo down and pinning you under his digits before dragging you back even though you yelp and thrash. You squirm one last time in his grip before suddenly going limp.

  Perceptor gently shifts you to lie in the center of his palm. For a terrifying moment, Ratchet thinks you are offline when he sees how still you are with your optics closed. But then his sensors pick up on the rapid beating of your organic spark, and he relaxes. Not dead. Just simply unconscious.

  “Give it here.” He holds out a waiting servo. Perceptor hands you over; you are given a quick look-over as Ratchet scans your body. There is a nasty cut on the back of your helm, and your vents are gravely bruised with terrible red marks. “Internal bleeding,” he mutters. “As well as external wounds. The crash really messed it up.” He curls his digits lightly over you and brushes his thumb over your forehead. “Doesn’t have a fever though, which is good. Damage is minimal, nothing life threatening. I can have it fixed in a few hours.”

  “You know how to heal organics?” First Aid questions.

  “I’ve been around for a long time. War changes you. I’ve had my equal share of saving Decepticon-ravaged planets inhabited by organics as well as machines.” Ratchet walks over to another berth, being careful not to jostle you too much. “First Aid, go grab the restrainers. We’ll have to keep it still so it doesn’t accidentally hurt itself when it wakes up.”

  “You’ll have to keep it sedated too,” Perceptor says. “I can help with that. Just a little puff of the gas will keep it asleep.”

  “Thank you,” Ratchet says, then pauses. “Listen. Don’t tell anyone about this yet. I don’t want everyone flocking into the medibay and stressing it out. We could accidentally scare this thing to death if we aren’t careful.”

  “I won’t.” Perceptor nods. “Just…make sure it heals properly. I don’t doubt your expertise, but…” He looks down at you, and his optics soften. “It hurts my spark to see something so small in so much pain.”

  First Aid returns with the restrainer. It’s a small mechanism that runs on magnetic power, created by the Lost Light’s resident mad scientist, Brainstorm himself. Ratchet places it directly over your lax form. With a quiet beep, it presses lightly over your midsection, and magnetic bindings weigh down your ankles and wrists. Seeing you trapped like this makes him feel guilty. This obviously isn’t going to be something you will like when you wake up. But there’s no other way for this to go. You won’t understand his good intentions until he heals you. Until then, he has to keep you still.

  He grabs a small serum of glowing blue liquid and bends over you, gently pinching your little fleshy cheeks and working your intake open. “C’mon little one, drink up,” he whispers when he carefully forces the liquid down your throat. He sees your faceplate tighten with discomfort, but your throat pulses as you subconsciously swallow. “There you go. Good human, good human.”

  “What are you giving it?” First Aid asks.

  “Something I learned to make back in my early days,” he replies. “It heals from the inside. Works on both organics and machines.” He pats your cheeks praisingly and draws away. “There. That should help with the bleeding. It’ll be fine now. I’ll continue to monitor it over the next few days.”

  First Aid exhales a relieved sigh. Perceptor reaches out a tentative hand and brushes your hair away from your closed optics. “It’s so small…so soft…”

  “We have to be careful with it,” First Aid frets. “We don’t want it to break.”

  “Listen.” Ratchet’s tone hardens authoritatively. “I said this before, but I’ll say it again. We have to keep this between the three of us. Don’t tell anyone about a human being in here.”

  “But what about the captain?” First Aid asks. “Shouldn’t he know?”

  “The captain can’t know. If he finds out there's a human on the ship, he’ll go nuts with excitement and probably end up accidentally crushing the poor thing. Until I confirm it’s not going to drop dead at any moment, we keep it a secret. Got it?”

  Both bots nod. Ratchet nods with them. “Alright. I’m going to stay here and make sure it’s condition remains stable. You can come back tomorrow to check in on it and see how it’s doing.”

  Perceptor dips his head and leaves without another word. First Aid lingers, optics never leaving you.

  “It’ll be fine,” Ratchet reassures him. “I’ll take care of it. Go recharge.”

  It takes a lot for the other medic to step back and exit the medibay. Ratchet watches him go, then sighs and drags a servo over his faceplate. Becoming the caretaker of an injured organic lifeform was not something he had planned for today. Primus, how the hell am I going to tell Rodimus?

  A soft noise drags his attention away from the alarming thought of what might happen if the extroverted captain learns about his new “crewmate.” He looks down at you and startles a bit. Your eyes, foggy and unfocused, are staring right at him. There’s a fatigued expression of utter terror on your face that once again has his spark feeling like it's been ripped from his chassis and stomped on.

  “You’ll be okay,” he whispers to you. “I promise.”

  You close your eyes and let your helm loll to the side. Ratchet watches the soft rise and fall of your chassis for a few moments longer, then dims the medibay lights and returns to his previous work on the other side of the room.

  Never do you stray far from his mind.

[kikker-oma]

Art for Chapter 1 of "Travel Through the Darkness" by @mariasparrow ! (Also happy late birthday🎉)

Hope you like it❤️

[the-barefoot-hatter]

winter holidays at the mystery shack (party billiam edition)

Stan celebrates what he calls "Cash-mas", which is just slapping a cheap felt santa hat and a 300% Christmas special markup on anything- and several things he can't- get away with in the gift shop

more sincerely, the Pines do a fairly low-key Hanukkah. if the twins are visiting, they do a much showier double christmas/hanukkah celebration

And Bill... well...

No one is entirely sure if it's a Euclidean thing or just a... Bill thing. But he's SO enthusiastic!

HAPPY WINTER FUNTIME BOYS & GIRLS!

[fullmetal-scar-simping]

Average fma fan talking about 03 positively: Man, it's such a miracle that the 2003 anime is written even halfway decently! After all, the writers who, as we know, have never written anything in their lives before [citation needed], they had to work while locked in individual underground cells [citation needed], only fed scraps of fma lore by Arakawa herself [citation needed] while her story was actually fully formed by the first printing of her manga in Monthly Shonen Gangan [citation needed] but they were adapting the initial first volume of manga and oopsy-daisy shot past it [citation needed], so they made up every plot beat, character arc, storyboard, and lore change completely on the fly and very randomly [citation needed]. Even though they tried to 1:1 adapt her story [citation needed, contradicted by existing sources], they fumbled the job and butchered her story, characters, and lore. Arakawa sagely forgave them [citation needed]. But somehow it's a cohesive story?! Wow! Even though the story is sad, dark, scares me, makes me cry, violent, gorey, and my fave ships aren't endgame, so -50 demerits. Still, good job team! A treat! A treat for the monkeys working the typewriters at Studio Bones circa 2002-2004! #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood

[tiger-quoll]

This was a request from kbluetoons they asked for Tails vs Metal Sonic

[wifetomegatron]

I’m not sure if you’re taking requests or not so feel free to delete but if you are how about some firsts! First date with First Aid in the First Contact!AU?

thank you for requesting anon <3 i hope you enjoy this !

a night full of firsts : what a first date with first aid would be like (sfw!)

i) you weren't his first date ( he had dated a couple of times back in medical school, but that had been ages ago ), but you were his first date on earth. first aid had idled outside the door of the restaurant for about ten minutes, constantly re-checking the screen of his mobile phone — which, in his opinion, was ridiculous to carry around — to double and triple check your picture. he was fidgeting, servos twitchy as he entered the place. the funny bit was you had witnessed the whole thing, the wide, clear window giving you a full view of first aid desperately trying to soothe his nerves ( you tell him this months after and he nearly breaks apart from shame. )

ii) first contact had been established for nearly a decade now, and humans were surprisingly quick to assimilate. if anything, none of the patrons bat an eye at his presence — red and white metal, shining under the golden glow of the lights. there were only five other bots inside the place, including him. and when he was the only one obviously on a date, first aid felt singled out if not scrutinized. with a more integral involvement in the council of worlds, the people of this little green planet had opened themselves slowly to the idea of 'interspecies relationships.' it was only a matter of time before someone created a dating app specialized for that. ( the secondhand embarrassment in asking velocity to help him create his profile pales in comparison to the shame he felt when he saw so many of his friends there.) less than a week of being on there scrolling, the two of you had matched. and the sweet little messages had boiled down to this very moment: you sitting across him, cheeks dusted pink. he averted his optics, suddenly feeling shy for the first time in a long time.

iii) the first hour went smoothly, with a few bumps along the way such as the occasional slip-ups and misunderstanding — you had accidentally asked him if he thinks the carbonara is better than the aglio e olio while he had slipped and accidentally called your eyes 'fascinating' instead of 'beautiful'. those he could laugh off.

until you had wondered aloud at how interesting it was that humans and cybertronians were so similar. and off-handedly, out of instinct, the medic had responded with : more than you think.

you had a playful glint in your eyes when you responded, lifting the wine glass to your lips, ' is that a promise?'

at the innuendo, his already nervous knee had jerked upwards and bumped the underside of the table, knocking the glass of water all over the surface. he immediately stood up, reaching to undo the damage by plucking the glass, only to have one of the table cloths snag in the seam of his knee. in an instant, the plates and cutlery had toppled over, loudly crashing onto the floor. but he didn't even have the time to react, the candle — which in his opinion was an evil, dangerous, thing to have on a dinner table and nowhere romantic — had set several of the napkins on fire. a dozen frightened patrons and one, messy fire extinguisher later, first aid had yanked you out of your seat and away from the chaos. this was the first time, first aid wished — what was the human saying ? for the earth to swallow him up? judging from how your clothes were most likely irreversibly damaged by the wine and pasta, disappearing was the best option.

iv) he knows ratchet was trying not to laugh at the story, failing miserably the moment he excused himself out of the room to ( not so discreetly ) tell his conjunx about the incident. velocity gave him a pitying smile, even if she was hiding her amusement. he told her that he was never going to see you again — that he ruined a beautiful night with a beautiful person over a stupid accident. considering that he was flustered enough to disappear without a word. until you had showed up by the receptionist's desk, worried hands wrung together as you asked one of the nurses for him.

at the sight of him, your eyes lit up. this was the first time first aid found himself at a loss for words, spark racing as you explained to him how you were more worried about how he had deleted the app the morning after and left without a word. determined not to get ghosted by someone who clearly enjoyed the night, you had tracked him down to ask him for another date.

' this time,' you had cleared your throat, ' i can prepare us dinner back at mines and actually make sure there'll be no candles around. if you'd want, that is ?'

he was glad he had his mouth guard up because he could feel himself grinning, velocity in the back already calling swerve to break to him the news.

'yes,' first aid answered, ' i'd like that.'

[roseyjean]

Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High? (Soukoku Angst)

Warnings: Angst angst angst, I slapped this together before I lost motivation, homosexuals in denial of their homosexuality, skk, Dazai (man's a warning in himself istg), alcohol intake, third person but with Chuuya's thoughts so sort of first person, slightly ooc because I suck at writing fully in character, no spellcheck because I fix my writing mistakes the first time 😎, swearing,

AN: @nugget-child is the demon who requested this- my first ever request RAAAAAAH

It's short er then chuuya but I like it

I listened to a creepypasta Playlist I made while writing this

It was three am when Chuuya's phone started ringing.

He didn't have to roll over to know who was calling him. Only one person ever called him at three in the morning, when anybody sane should be asleep. It happened every week, sometimes twice a week. Sometimes more.

Sometimes he wondered why he continued to pick up the phone.

It did him no good.

It only made it all hurt more.

Still, he stretched his arm over and picked up the phone, sliding the answer call button up and pressing the phone to his ear. Immediately was the annoying voice of the person he loved hated the most.

"𝘊𝘩𝘶𝘶𝘶𝘶𝘶𝘶𝘺𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘢~" Dazai slurred. "𝘕𝘦𝘦𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵' 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘳~~"

Chuuya wanted to say no. Dazai was the enemy now, a traitor of the Port Mafia. He should just ignore him, let him deal with the consequences of his actions alone.

But he never could make himself say no.

"I'll be right over."

He hung up the phone and dressed, grabbing his motorcycle keys and his wallet and setting off. The streets of Yokohama were mostly deserted at this time, and he made it to Dazai's apartment quickly, parking his red motorcycle in the parking lot and killing the engine.

He paused for a moment, not getting off his bike. Why did he do this? Dazai could've called any of the people he worked with. So why did he have to call Chuuya, his old partner? They hated each other. They always had, ever since Chuuya first joined. He'd never wanted to like Dazai. He was a stupid, selfish, suicidal prick.

Yet he still got off his bike and tromped up the steps to the apartment and knocked on the door. "Mackerel. Let me in."

Silence. No shuffling, no swearing, nothing. With a frustrated sigh, Chuuya tried the doorknob. The door swung open easily.

The apartment was a mess. Clothes, alcohol bottles, and loose bandages were strewn about. This was how it looked every time. Sometimes he wondered if Dazai knew the meaning of the word 'picking up after yourself'.

Speak of the devil, there was the shithead himself, laying slumped on the battered couch, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in one hand and his phone in the other. As soon as the door opened, his eyes focused on Chuuya.

"𝘊𝘩𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘪~" He slurred, raising his arms. Bandages trailed from his limbs, unraveling, and patches of pale skin, covered in silvery scars, showed. "𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘵.... 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘬𝘬𝘬, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴, 𝘺𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘩~?"

Chuuya hated Dazai. He really did.

He cleaned up the clothes, and the bandages, and the alcohol bottles. He wrestled the bottle of whiskey from Dazai's hand and undid all the bandages from his body- arms, legs, torso, neck- and forced him to put some pajamas on. And he waited for him to fall asleep before he left, locking the door behind him with the key he kept on his keychain.

But he always came back.

[megadusa]

(⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠) source

[good-beanswrites]

0306 ship fic? 👉👈

So. I usually don't like writing sappy ship things because 1. my aroace ass isn't great at it and I'd rather leave that to the more skilled fanbase, and 2. I like exploring elements of a developing relationship other than physical moments. However. However. I was hit with Fluff Beam while writing this, so first kiss with Mappi fic be upon ye :')

“Won’t you kiss me, Fuuta-kun?”

He tipped his head back with a drawn-out noise of exasperation. This wasn’t a new or surprising question by any means. He always hated when it came up, though. He waved the mixing spoon in the air.

“Don’t you ever get tired of all that sappy romance stuff? You’ve asked me enough times…” And each time, I have to endure the pain of lying to you. “Can’t you see I’m busy? Helping you, for that matter!”

He used the spoon to gesture to the baking supplies cluttering the prison’s tiny kitchen, flinging some strawberry filling in the process. Mahiru had started a batch of cupcakes in celebration that her arm had come out of its sling, only for it to start hurting halfway through from the overuse. If Fuuta had known that yanking the bowl away from her would volunteer him to finish the whole project, he would have thought twice about it. He still would have done it, of course, but he’d at least have thought twice.

Fortunately, Mahiru was a good teacher who hovered over his shoulder to explain each step in great detail without ever sounding patronizing. Unfortunately, it became more difficult to deny her request when she leaned so close, continuing to pry.

“Isn’t that the best reason? You’re being so kind, Mahiru should return the favor.”

“No, you shouldn’t have to 'return' anything! I’m doing this because I…” he swallowed. “Because I think you’re an idiot for going and getting yourself hurt again!”

“Oh, don’t say that, Fuuta-kun!” She giggled, not sounding hurt at all. She never did.

“It’s true!” She was indeed an idiot, the way she kept pestering him for something more. As usual, her mind had flown somewhere far outside of reality. Whatever she was picturing between her and Fuuta was nothing but one-sided romance. She was the one that warmed the room when she came in. She was the one who created butterflies in stomachs and blushes in cheeks. She was the one that made any of this feel like anything.

Fuuta, on the other hand, knew he brought nothing to the table. If she thought he was kind, it was all in her head. If she viewed him as attractive, it was definitely nothing but her fantasy. And now, if she anticipated him being a good kisser, it was just another delusion she’d lost herself in. As usual, she needed someone to save her from such delusions. That, at least, was the one good thing he could do for her.

“Just forget it, will ya? It’s not gonna happen.”

Behind him, Mahiru said nothing. He finished stirring in the final ingredient. He turned to ask her what came next, only to discover the most heartbroken expression he’d ever seen on her. She sniffled.

“Mappi!”

“I-I’m sorry. I was too much again, wasn’t I? I understand. I know… I know anyone would be afraid to kiss me.”

“Afraid? I’m not afraid!”

“Well, I mean,” she lowered her head, strands of hair falling over her eyes. “Given my record with boyfriends, it really wouldn’t be smart to fall in love with me, hm?”

“You callin’ me stupid?” The question came tumbling out before Fuuta realized the confession embedded within them. Mahiru’s head snapped up, the prior mist in her eyes made them shine with excitement, now.

She opened her mouth to point out the obvious. Fuuta shoved a spoonful of strawberry filling between her lips, panicking.

“Tell me if that needs anything else!” He turned on his heel, slamming the bowl down on the counter.

He took a measured inhale. Then an exhale. He squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m not scared, you know? I… I would really want to. T-to kiss you, I mean. But if I did, it’ll only prove to you that you don’t really want this.” He turned. “It’ll only make you more upset, and I’m not the – agk!”

Mahiru cupped his cheeks and brought him down to her lips. He made a little strangled sound as he was pressed back into the counter. At that moment, Fuuta had a total of three trains of thought before his brain fried like an overheating computer and went blank.

The first: Holy shit!

Second: I’ve never done this before. God, am I doing this right? What am I supposed to do with my hands? Or my mouth? Should I keep holding my breath? I’m definitely not doing this right.

And third: Holy shiiiiiiiit!

When she pulled away, rosy-cheeked and smiling wide, Fuuta’s arm instinctively reached up to hide his face. He was painfully aware of the burning across his skin, surely turning him a mortifying shade of red.

“Well?” She asked, seemingly oblivious to the state she’d reduced him to. “That was proof enough for Mahiru! What about Fuuta-kun?”

“I-I, well. You –" You tasted like strawberries. “You’re damned lucky no one was around, pulling a stunt like that!”

Mahiru waved the comment away with a fluttery hand gesture. “I meant, what did you think? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

He scowled at her. “I… I don’t know!”

Mahiru considered the statement. Rather than realize that, for the first time in his life, Fuuta was rendered entirely speechless, she took it at face value. “Well, then, I suppose we’ll just have to try again~”

“Wait, wha–?”

[wreckedandpolemic]

morning sex w george!!!! i feel like he would be so so lovely and sweet

first light - george daniel

(mdni) this kicked my fucking ASS and i dont even think its that good sorry!!

warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, cockwarming, very very light somno if you squint, me-typical disgusting love, not even remotely proofread

Slanted sunrays tenderly kiss you awake, eyelids fluttering in the morning light. You stretch and yawn, wriggling comfortably in George’s arms, not shaking the last vestiges of sleep off you yet. He groans in his sleep and you smile to yourself, pressing flush against him so his heated chest warms your back and the hard length of him presses against you. Your name falls from his lips in a sleepy moan, and he rolls his hips slowly and sloppily.

His arms tighten around your waist and he buries his head sweetly in your neck. Familiar heat pools in your belly, softer and gentler this time, like your desire is still half-asleep too. “Are you awake?” you whisper, words rippling in the still air.

 “No,” he mumbles, pressing a wet kiss to your neck.

“Me neither,” you smile, slowly rolling over to face him. “But I had a very sweet dream.”

A dirty grin splits George’s face, and he cups your jaw to kiss you. His lips are warm, like the want growing in you, a marked change from the usual scorching flames that draw you together. “Did you now?” He takes a handful of your ass, squeezing it gently, unconsciously.

You press a soft palm against his clothed dick and he sucks in a sharp breath in response. “I want…” You pause, because what do you want? “Can you take these off? I just want all of you,” you murmur, snapping the elastic of his boxers against his waist. Even that sounds impossibly loud in the still quiet of your room. He obliges and you smile, unable to resist wrapping a hand around his length just to feel his hips jump in response. 

“Minx,” he says, a fond smile playing on his lips. Adoration dances in his sleepy eyes, and he hooks a thumb in the waistband of your panties. You let him drag them down your legs, kicking them off to lay forgotten in the tangle of sheets at the foot of your bed. He trails two fingers through your cunt, and you’re surprised at the dampness there. A moan slips from your lips when he brings his fingers up to his mouth, sucking your arousal off them with a self-satisfied smile.

“Can we… Can you just…” You trail off helplessly, but George understands you. He always does. Gently, he takes hold of your hips and lines himself up with your entrance. The stretch is slow, sweet, melting you into a puddle of bliss that culminates in a moan when he bottoms out. You drape a leg over his waist, the angle sending a delicious wave of pleasure through you. He kisses you, slow and loving, and your eyes slip shut as he rests a hand on your ass.

Tucking your head into his neck, you curl into him, sheets pooling around your bare back. You’re gloriously full, complete, content to just lay on his chest and feel him. Every light twitch of his hips sends a burst of pleasure coiling through you, warm and sweet. The warm fingers of sleep cradle you and you slip into a doze, just barely aware of the throbbing between your legs. 

You have no idea how long you lay there, stretched around him, blanketed by sleepy stillness, but when you open your eyes again the sun has shifted position and the light flooding your room is sharper and brighter. George’s thrusts get more insistent, his nails biting the flesh of your ass as he fucks you. “Couldn’t even wait for me to wake up, huh?” you tease, clenching your cunt around him. He only grins, a dirty, sleazy thing that you stretch up to kiss off his lips.

A quiet, pleading whine escapes you, the pace too much for your soupy mind. “You okay, baby?” he asks, smiling down at you. You look at him imploringly, willing that part of his brain that can read your body so perfectly to latch on. “Yeah,” he says, voice a soothing rumble, “I know, baby. I know what you need,” he promises, and rolls on top of you.

The pressure of his weight against you is glorious, and you wrap your legs around him to draw him impossibly deeper. George fucks you in long, slow, deep thrusts, swallowing your moans with hungry kisses. You cry out when he hits that perfect spot inside of you, electricity fizzing under your skin. “God, fuck, yes!” you moan, writhing against the sheets.

“You’re so beautiful,” he gasps, burying himself to the hilt in you. “So sweet and good for me.” The praise makes your blood sing, head swimming in ecstasy. George kisses at your sweat-slick skin, paying special attention to every inch of your tits he can reach. You press an insistent hand between your legs and rub quick, tight circles into your clit, matching George’s blissful pace. “You wanna cum, baby?” he asks, licking a stripe in the valley between your breasts that makes you shiver.

“Yeah, fuck, yes. Please, George, please,” you babble, drawing in deep lungfuls of sex-thickened air.

“Go on, then, beautiful,” he murmurs into your mouth, smiling against your lips. “Cum for me,” he orders, biting at your neck. The scrape of his teeth on your sensitive skin sends you spinning out, euphoria crashing over you all at once. Liquid heat drips down your spine and you grip George’s shoulders, clinging to him as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your muscles tremble, blood clotted thick with heat and desire.

You come down from your high, cunt fluttering and heartbeat hammering in your throat. The slick, wet sounds of your flesh meeting fill the room, drowning out your quiet, overstimulated whimpers. George thrusts into you one last time, deeper than you thought possible and comes with a cry, cock pulsing deliciously inside of you. Your world blurs, everything dimming down until all you can see is George, glowing brightly above you. He pulls out of you, grinning lazily and rolling off you. You twine your fingers with his, clutching him like a lifeline as your chests rise and fall in tandem.

“I love you,” you murmur, sleepy but forever truthful.

He turns his head to look into your eyes, the adoration in his gaze so pure and evident that your heart melts, dripping against your ribs. “I love you too,” he promises, a broad smile splitting his face. He traces idle patterns on your skin. “Do you want me to run us a bath?”

You nod, stretching luxuriously against the bed. “Sounds amazing,” you mumble, eyes slipping shut as he pads to the bathroom. You hear George humming lightly to himself as the bath runs, then fall into sweet, gentle sleep.

[vonxodd]

SPICE // 'metallica' runway, rupaul's drag race 15X03

[koboivanderlinde]

hey are you able to write something for dutch where his s/o has an awful nightmare and he comforts her?

Hello, thank you for the request ! I tried, it's a bit short but I hope you'll like it :)

Dutch comforting his S/O who had a nightmare

Pairing : Dutch van der Linde x Reader

Warnings : mentions of blood

Tags : angst, fluff,

A/N : As I am very new to writing, this is my first "fanfiction" ever. I am open to criticism as long as it's not too rude, I hope you'll like it anyways :)

Fire, fire everywhere. The camp was destroyed, flames licking the canvas of the tents. You were standing in front of you and Dutch's tent, petrified by the vision before you. Everyone was dead, their lifeless bodies lying on the floor next to your feet. Your hands were covered in their blood. The Pinkertons had come and burned the camp to the ground. They mercilessly slaughtered your friends -- your family. You felt as if you were drowning, despair submerging you, smothering you as you gasped for air, your sight grew dim and-

Your eyes opened wide. Your chest rose and fell back down a few times, and you tried unsuccessfully to regain control of your breath. Tears were rolling down your face without a noise. You instinctively wiped your forehead with your forearm, but all you removed was sweat. A nightmare, again. It was not unusual for you to have those, but it has been happening more and more often lately. As silently as you could, you rolled over to see Dutch's back facing you. At least I didn't wake him up, you thought. He was tired as of late, the gang's dangerous situation had taken a toll on him. The last thing you wanted to do was tire him even more.

The camp was silent. Everyone had gone to sleep for at least an hour now; There was no sound but the occasional singing of a cuckoo. Careful not to make any noise that could awaken your lover, you slowly stood up. As you were walking out of the tent, you heard a low voice behind you.

“Come back, sweetheart. What happened?”

You felt your whole body become tense. So he heard everything, you thought. His voice was enough to make the tears you tried to repress flow. You crawled back into the cot, facing Dutch as he was now turned to face you. 

“Had a nightmare… These bastards killed everyone but me,” you whispered with a shaky voice, sobbing. You hated this feeling that was creeping over you; you felt like this was just gonna worry Dutch even more. But your thoughts were interrupted by his sleepy voice.

“Oh, darling,” he sighed. He slowly cupped your cheek. “You know I would never let these men come here.”

He looked at you with concern, as he lovingly moved his hand to your chin. He gently brought your lips to his, fondly kissing you. His facial hair softly tickled you, but you didn’t mind.

“I had your blood on my hands, Dutch. I felt so hopeless..”

“Look at me.” He grabbed one of your hands and kissed it countless times. “Those hands will never get dirty as long as I am here,” he said as he pulled you close to him and embraced you tightly.

  You wished you could stay here forever, protected in his strong arms as the hand that didn’t hold your chin was affectionately stroking your back. 

“You are safe. We are safe. Alright, dear?”

“I love you, Dutch.”

“I love you too. Now come here.”

He laid flat on his back and gently grabbed your arm to help you move yourself on top of him. You rested your head in the crook of his neck, closing your eyes as you smelled his comforting Cologne scent. His arms rested on your back, securing you in place as the two of you fell back asleep, the only thing on your mind being how lucky you were to have Dutch.

[hazyaltcare]

A stimboard for a Blue Pearl (Steven Universe) with light blue stims of water and gems.

💎 💧 💎 / 💧 🦪 💧 / 💎 💧 💎

Mod Haze (🎮Greyson)

[antiquepearlss]

Requested Fit Pics to match an overpriced purse I bought

[putting-jonathan-byers-in-places]

put nancy and jonathan in the hunger games☺️

Giving you two cause first one looks like they’re just standing in the middle of a forest, so take Jonathan as the second district twelve tribute :]