#i don’t want to give up on something when i feel like i haven’t even tried

[smolbeanie1221]

I’m lucky enough to live in one of the light blue states, and I have family and a friend in one of the dark blue states. But I have no idea where things are going, how long my state will be relatively safe and I’ll be able to access things for transitioning when I start. I’ve already decided that if things go bad in my state, I’m moving to the dark blue state where I have family and a friend. My friend and I had jokingly over the summer talked about if I moved back there, we could get an apartment together. So I have a rough back up plan in place if needed.

But this map makes me so sad and angry to look at. I have family in Florida that I want to go see this spring, and I know I still look like my agab, so I know I wouldn’t have to worry about people freaking out that I’m trans or something. But I still don’t want to go to Florida simply because I know how bad it is there for queer people and I’m worried that there’s a small chance, I’ll just give off too much of a queer vibe to someone, or something like that happening. I don’t think it would happen, for once the fact I haven’t started transitioning yet is good. But still… it’s just so exhausting to think about.

I still remember about a year ago when I worked retail, at least every other week a customer would say “you’d be great working as x job,” and the one time a customer said “you’d be great working at Disney!” And I just paused and tried to give them a funny smile but I probably looked like I was kinda grimacing and I said “probably… but I wouldn’t be safe in Florida…” I can’t remember if I said that exactly, but that was the gist of it. I can’t remember how the customer replied, but after that conversation, I remember being stunned. I, a young American citizen, had a fear based response to the idea of working somewhere in the state of Florida, I knew it was a simple fact that I would not be safe living in that state. And I was thinking about how fucked up it was that my immediate reaction to the customer’s comment couldn’t have been, oh that sounds like fun! or anything along those lines, but instead my reaction was, fuck no I couldn’t live there because I wouldn’t be safe.

I know obviously no country is perfect, plenty of people across the world live in dangerous places, and I know that’s true in America too. But that was the first time I experienced that feeling, and it almost felt magnified because America is so often praised by its citizens as being the best place in the world to live, all men are equal, protections for minorities, etc. And yet here I was, in America, the country I was born in and raised with those same thoughts, vividly experiencing the complete opposite thing from what I should’ve been able to.

Anyways just where my thoughts took me when I saw the map this time, especially now that person is in office (I don’t even want to say his name) and I’m scared things will get so much worse all over the country.

Adult Transgender Legislative Risk Map, November 2024

[puckstories]

thinking about drunk quinn

I feel like Quinn gets like, clingy drunk. Like when he’s drunk he’s emotional and clingy and annoying in the most adorable way 😭 (lowk not represented in this though I was just writing idk) -Honey

It’s a little after midnight when Quinn stumbles into your shared room, his silhouette framed by the dim light spilling in from the hallway. The faint smell of smoke and beer clings to him—remnants of the night spent with the boys around the backyard fire pit, their voices and laughter echoing long after you’d slipped away. You’d retreated an hour ago, completing your nightly skincare routine before sliding into bed, letting the familiar comfort of Sex and the City drown out the muffled sounds of their conversations.

The door clicks shut behind him, and he leans back against it, a crooked grin on his face that tells you everything you need to know. He’s drunk. Not the tipsy, half-lit version of Quinn you’re used to seeing on rare occasions, but properly drunk—the kind that has him swaying slightly, his head tipped back like the ceiling might steady him. He rarely drinks. Never during the season. Even in the offseason, it’s only the occasional buzz, just enough to relax. But tonight, it seems, was an exception.

You glance away from the TV, your eyes trailing over him. His cheeks are flushed, a faint pink spreading from the cold air outside or maybe from the beer warming his bloodstream. He meets your gaze and grins wider, his lopsided charm cutting through the otherwise ungainly way he’s standing.

“Hey there, killer,” you say, an amused tilt in your tone.

The laugh that tumbles out of him is unrestrained, airy, like he’s been holding onto it for too long. He lets it echo around the room before it fizzles out, leaving him breathless but grinning. For a moment, he just stays there, one hand braced against the door, like he’s trying to hold himself together. Then he pushes off it, his steps uneven but determined as he makes his way to you.

When he flops onto the bed beside you, the mattress dips under his weight, and the smell of him—beer, smoke, just a hint of cologne, and the crisp winter air—wraps around you. He buries his face in the pillow for a second, mumbling something incoherent before turning his head to look at you. His eyes are bright, glassy, but there’s a tenderness in them that’s unmistakable.

“Hi, baby,” he says, his voice low and affectionate, the words soft but warm enough to spread through your chest like the coziest blanket.

You shift, propping yourself up on one elbow, your head resting lightly on your hand. Your free hand finds its way to his hair, fingers slipping through the soft, dark strands. He shuts his eyes the moment you touch him, like the simple motion is enough to quiet the world around him. A faint, lazy smile tugs at his lips, and you feel him exhale, his whole body softening as if he’s giving in to some invisible weight he’s been carrying.

He leans into you instinctively, his body inching closer like its second nature. The space between the two of you disappears as he buries himself deeper into the warmth of the bed and the comfort of your hand.

For a moment, you wonder if he’s already falling asleep, but then his eyes flutter open again. They’re slightly unfocused, still hazy from the alcohol, but there’s a warmth in them that makes your heart ache a little. His gaze drifts lazily around the room, as if he’s piecing together where he is, until it finally lands on the glowing screen of the TV.

“What’re you watching, baby?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly, the words slurred just enough to make you smile.

“Sex and the City.” You murmur, keeping your voice quiet like you don’t want to break the spell of the moment.

“Ah, I should’ve known,” he says with a lopsided grin, his laugh bubbling up almost before he’s finished speaking. It’s a carefree, loose kind of laugh, the kind you don’t hear from him often, and it fills the space between you like a favorite song you haven’t heard in a while.

He tilts his head slightly, his eyes flicking back to you. “How many times have you seen it now?”

You smile, shrugging. “Enough to know Carrie’s about to make a terrible decision in this episode.”

He chuckles again, his head sinking further into the pillow. “That’s, like, every episode.”

“Exactly,” You agree, dragging your fingers through his hair again, this time scratching lightly at his scalp. His smile widens, and he lets out a contented hum, the sound vibrating against the quiet hum of the TV.

“You’re too good to me,” he mumbles, his voice trailing off as his eyes grow heavier. The words are simple, but the way he says them—low, honest, and just a little slurred—makes something stir in your chest.

“I know.” You hum, leaning in to press a kiss against his cheek.

[cursingtoji]

the cardio machine i want is on the cardio machine

cw: gym rat toji x loser!gf - size kink, sweat kink (?), toji is a big old meanie. loser!gf series: geto gojo nanami.

loser!reader who, like a million other sedentary people on new year’s eve, said “new year new me” and proceeded to enroll at the local gym.

gym rat!toji who knew how things are in the beginning of the year, so the first week he arrives one hour earlier than usual to avoid all the lazy fucks that won’t last two months.

of course he makes a few mental bets on the ones that would quit and how long it would take, you included.

it’s easy to spot the “i don’t want lift weights cause i don’t want look jacked” type of girl.

at the breaks between one set and the other he looked around, not surprised to see you slowing down the treadmill after running not even two whole minutes.

sometimes he caught you staring at him through the mirror, not an uncommon occurrence amonst the women there, though you surprised him one day by tapping his shoulder after he finishing his weighted squats.

“can you… give me a few tips?” he looked so intimidated, from up close his shoulders looked like a wall, he stared at you from above, dark green eyes seemed to be heavily judging you, “never mind this was a bad idea, sorry” you turned around, grabbing you bottle and running off the gym.

by the time you managed to gather the courage to show your face back there two whole weeks had passed.

“consistency is the key you know” you were distracted looking down your phone while slowly walking the treadmill when the handsome man appeared beside you, the sudden presence destabilized you.

before you could become the viral video of the week when inevitably a gym employee decides to post the security footage of your ass rolling off the active treadmill, toji wrapped one big arm around your waist and pulled you to the stable floor.

“you caught me off guard the other day” he said completely unfazed by saving you from a life of embarrassment, “then you disappeared.”

“yeah i didn’t know if i wanted to come back anyways, i haven’t see any results so far” you pulled the hem of your shirt down.

toji snorted, “‘course you ain’t seeing results, sweetheart, you don’t lift.”

“well, it’s hard…” toji rolled his eyes, there was always an excuse.

though he also did a new year’s resolution of being more patient, for his kids primarily but teaching a cute thing like you could be a good exercise too.

soon enough, toji was correcting your form, texting you asking why you haven’t showed up to the gym and ringing your bell incessantly when you complained about muscle pain and said you wouldn't go that day.

“it’ll feel better once you start to move” he explained, resting on your door frame when you opened the door on your pajamas.

“let me alone, just today” you whined.

“you asked for my help now go put on something without cartoons on it” he waited for you to turn around and slapped your butt. it had been only one week he was coaching you but there was already a weird intimacy due to the fact he was pretty much always looking at your body and touching you.

to correct your form. obviously.

"what do i have to do today, coach fushiguro?" you asked from your bedroom through an ajar door which allowed toji to get a peek at your pink underwear and cute ass.

"cardio, bicycle first. get some blood flowing on those sore muscles" he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows watching you bend over to grab a biker shorts at the lowest drawer then holding back a laughter at the grunt of pain coming from you.

"once it gets better i can teach you other types of cardio" he walked around your kitchen examining your cabinets and stuff you kept in your fridge. needless to say it was all junk.

"can't wait" you replied sarcastically, failing to understand the meaning.

it took a few more days till you got used to toji's training, then he decided to focus on your upper body.

"such a simple movement, how do you manage to get that wrong?" he raised from the bench he was sitting behind you watching your form through the mirror. you almost dropped the weights at your feet when he came close. it was almost scary how much bigger than you he was especially seeing it throght the mirror. his right hand wrapped around yours on the dumbell and his bicep touched your arm as he pushed your arm closer to your body, "tuck your elbows in, straight your back" his free hand pushed your shoulders till they were touching his chest.

how come he smelled so good, so... musky and...

"are you even making any force?" he lowered his head, his reflection looking annoyed. so you decided to ignore the sudden heat between your thighs and flex your arm the way he taught you.

and just like he promised, when you were consistent enough and handling a good 5 minute run he decided to show you a more pleasing cardio.

"toji please~" you whined, thighs burning from riding him, you were using his rock hard abdomen as a support, but still.

"one more minute, come on" he looked at the watch on his wrist and slapped your ass, "haven't i prep-ed you good enough?" his thumb rubbed your bottom lip then pushed in meeting your tongue, where you tasted yourself in his digits one hour after he ringed your bell and said he was going to reward your good discipline, but he had to strech you first.

"good girl" you felt his abdomn flex when he raised from his laying position on your bed, "now leave it to daddy" he pecked your lips and quickly changed positions, putting a pillow under your ass and rolling his neck to start his cardio of the day.

[the-most-humble-blog]

Humans: The Ultimate Flex—Suck It, Animals and Aliens

Proof We’re the Crown Jewel of Evolution (and Why No One Else Even Comes Close)

Let’s not sugarcoat it: humans are the GOAT species. We’ve got opposable thumbs, complex languages, and the ability to feel existential dread at 2 a.m. over a dumb thing we said in 7th grade. No other species—or hypothetical alien race—has anything on us.

Think I’m exaggerating? Let me prove it with some brain and logic magic that’ll make you want to high-five yourself. Animals? Aliens? They can sit down and take notes.

1. Opposable Thumbs: The OG Superpower

First, let’s talk thumbs. Most animals are stuck with paws, hooves, or tentacles. But humans? We have these magical little appendages that let us write novels, build cities, and scroll endlessly through TikTok.

What Makes Us Special: Our thumbs can touch every other finger, giving us precision grip. That’s why we’re holding smartphones while chimps are still throwing poop.

Think about it: If aliens show up without thumbs, we’re dominating the handshake game.

2. Pattern Recognition: Brain Magic Level 100

Your brain is basically a biological Sherlock Holmes.

You See Faces in Clouds: That’s pareidolia—a fancy way of saying your brain loves patterns so much, it creates them even when they don’t exist.

You Predict the Future: Well, kind of. Your brain analyzes past experiences to anticipate what’s coming next. That’s why you can dodge a falling object or, more importantly, guess the next plot twist in The Bachelor.

Here's a Thought: Meanwhile, a lion can’t even tell that the waterhole is a trap until it’s too late.

3. Language: The Ultimate Mic Drop

Other animals communicate, sure. Dolphins click, bees dance, and your cat meows at you for food. But humans? We’re dropping sonnets, memes, and political debates.

Infinite Combinations: With 26 letters (or however many your language has), we can create endless words and ideas.

Aliens Could Never: If they don’t show up speaking Shakespeare, are they even worth the hype?

Humble Brag: We’re so good at language, we invented emojis to make up for not having enough ways to roast each other.

4. Memory: A Blessing and a Curse

Your brain doesn’t just store information—it rewrites and replays it like a director’s cut of your life.

No Other Animal Remembers Like This: Elephants may never forget, but they’re not lying awake at night cringing over awkward trunk waves.

Your Mind Is a Time Machine: You can travel to the past (memories) and imagine the future (dreams). Animals? They live in the moment like some kind of zen monks.

Fun Flex: Humans can create fictional worlds better than reality. Ever see a dolphin write Game of Thrones? Didn’t think so.

5. Problem-Solving: We Literally Break Physics for Fun

No other species solves problems like we do.

Fire: We didn’t just discover it; we harnessed it.

Tools: We’re the only species that looked at a stick and thought, “Let’s kill something big with this and eat it.”

Space Travel: Meanwhile, most animals don’t even understand up and down.

Alien Diss: If they haven’t figured out intergalactic travel yet, are they really that advanced?

6. Humor: The Ultimate Sign of Intelligence

Here’s the big one: humans laugh.

Why It’s Special: Humor requires recognizing absurdity, connecting ideas, and delivering them with timing.

No Competition: Animals might look funny, but they’re not cracking jokes.

Weird Thought: If aliens can’t meme, do they even matter?

7. Consciousness: The Unbeatable Crown

You’re aware of yourself. You can ask questions like, “Why am I here?” and then immediately distract yourself with cat videos.

No Other Species Has This Level of Meta: Animals act on instinct. You can reflect on your actions—and cringe at them later.

We are our Brain: Sure, consciousness makes us anxious, but at least we’re not stuck chewing cud and staring at nothing.

Humanity Wins, Every Time

So, yeah. Are humans perfect? No. But are we leagues ahead of anything else on Earth—or in the universe (so far)? Hell yes. Our brains, thumbs, and ability to crack dark jokes about it all make us the species to beat.

Animals? Cute, but predictable. Aliens? Call us when they invent sarcasm. Until then, humanity reigns supreme.

Think humans are awesome? (Of course you do—you’re one of us.) Follow The Most Humble Blog for more unapologetic takes and hilariously sharp insights into why we’re the best.

[chuellas]

Fine Line | Chuuya is always overworking himself, always choosing work over you and you’re finally fed up with it.

⤷ Ft. Nakahara Chuuya

Warnings | Fem!reader, mentions/consumption of alcohol, term “doll” used, a tiny itty bit suggestive if you squint, hardly edited, WC: 5k

A/N | I had no idea where I was going with this one when writing it but I had so much fun writing it

You’re sitting at the bar now. You moved from your reserved table after an hour of waiting, figuring it could go to a couple that actually planned on spending the evening together. You let out another sigh into your gin and tonic. You’ve been at this restaurant for about 2 hours now and haven’t eaten a single thing. It’s your date’s fault, really, they were the one that never showed up. You don’t know why you even try anymore. Dating was pointless in your line of work anyways. 

But sometimes going on dates warded off the loneliness and that incessant craving you get for normalcy.

You check your watch for the time only to find it’s now past midnight. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you finally make the decision to pull out your phone and call the person you actually wanted to spend the evening with. You're pleasantly surprised when he picks up on the first ring.

“Thought you had a date.” You’re greeted with a tone that’s laced with exhaustion but something else jumps out too — annoyance, maybe? Or maybe you’re just imagining things after downing your third drink of the night on an empty stomach.  

You hum, pointedly not answering his question directly, as you signal for the bartender to close out your tab. “You still in your office working on that mountain of paperwork?”

The pause from the otherside of the phone is a long one, it’s a contemplative pause you conclude, you can tell he’s trying to decide whether to humor you or to push his own question. It would be a waste of his time to go with the latter, you had no intention of breaching the topic of you being stood up yet again. This time especially stung with it being a woman and all. You thought she would have known better, or at the very least have the common decency to warn you of her impending absence, knowing very well how long it takes to get ready for a first date. You shaved and took an “everything” shower for this occasion.

A soft sigh of defeat is heard from his side and you grin widely, Chuuya is much smarter than he’s given credit for. “So what if I am?”

“Stay there. I’m on my way.” You don’t give the executive room to argue as you hang up on him. 

As if on cue the bartender brings you the receipt and your card, after signing you leave a generous amount of cash in the tip jar with a smile. You leave the restaurant the same way you came, without a word as the manager babbles on about how much of a pleasure it was to have your patronage. You wave him off with the same smile that’s feeling more forced by the minute as you step into the elevator.

When the doors slide shut after what seems like an eternity, you’re finally able to relax for a moment. The disappointment of another wasted night sinks into your shoulder, making them cave in. You deflate in defeat, having to resign to a fate that’s been set by some stupid carrot topped man that has to use his ability to reach the top shelf of overhang shelves. He’d never admit it but you’ve actually caught him doing it before. 

This was all somehow Chuuya’s fault. If he ever did anything other than work you wouldn’t seek solace in other people. You would be able to let yourself actually explore the feelings that stir in your chest when you’re around the ginger. But instead you’re stuck calling him after failed dates to see what he’s up to and if you can get away with bugging him. 

Headquarters is just a few blocks north of where you’re at, it shouldn’t take you more than 10 minutes to get to Chuuya. Well, maybe 20 since your favorite ramen place is on the way and you know they’re still open. So you have to stop there for two bowls because not only have you not eaten but you know Chuuya probably hasn’t either, being too engrossed in his paperwork to remember that basic bodily functions exist. 

Another 5 minutes after picking up the ramen and you’re making your way up yet another elevator to the floor that holds both your office on one side and his on the other. You take a moment when the doors open to decide whether you want to go straight to Chuuya’s office or if you want to stop at yours to change into something far more comfortable than the dress you’re currently wearing. Your stomach ultimately makes the decision for you when it rumbles loudly. The ginger’s office it is.

You don’t even bother with knocking, too tired, hungry, and impatient to wait on him to answer. The door creaks as you push and then groans out a complaint when you kick it shut behind you. Chuuya isn’t even fazed when you enter, his nose still buried in his paperwork. Thankfully the pile was no longer a mountain, more of a small hill now. It still looks like an hour or two’s worth of work. You’d offer your help if it weren’t for the fact that you’re pretty sure you’re drunk. 

Making yourself comfortable without a word you saunter over to his desk and choose to sit yourself on top of his scattered paperwork, plopping the ramen in front of him.  

Chuuya freezes, staring at the bag of food in disbelief before turning his accusing glare at you. “What the f-”

His words die in his throat when his eyes finally land on you. Even in your slightly, maybe more, inebriated state it’s hard not to notice the way his eyelids droop as his dual colored eyes scan your figure. He must be really tired, he’s usually far more tactful when he checks you out. 

You swing your legs where they dangle from his desk, pleased with yourself and his reaction. “I brought you some dinner. I didn’t get a chance to eat so I figured neither have you. Looks like I was right!”

Chuuya has to practically tear his gaze from you to see what you’re talking about. You untie the bag to reveal two containers filled to the brim with ramen. You lean in to read the labels to make sure you were taking the right container but in the process it gives the executive a nice view right down our cleavage. You have to bite back the smile that threatens to stretch at your lips when you hear the way his breath stutters. Maybe now you’re the one not being tactful but you figure someone deserves to appreciate the way you look in this dress since the intended party will never get to. 

“You stop at that shop down the road?” Chuuya clears his throat as he waits for you to grab all of your things before reaching for his own container.

You kick off your shoes and jump off his desk to pull a chair up to the opposite side. “Yeah, thankfully they stay open late. Can you clear some of the papers up? Don’t wanna get them stained in ramen broth.”

“Really makin’ yourself at home, aren’t you, Doll?” He raises a brow at you in amusement but clears his desk off regardless.

You hum and nod your head, too busy taking a bite of your ramen. Your eyes practically roll to the back of your head and you let out a pleased hum at the flavors dancing along your tongue. The savory taste of the broth alone almost completely washes away the lingering bitter aftertaste the last few hours left in your mouth. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until you had stepped foot into that shop. Now you are famished and even the most bland of foods would taste absolutely divine in this moment. You’re so absorbed in your meal that you don’t even take notice of the way the ginger sitting before you is watching you so intently that he hasn’t even touched his own food. 

It’s not until he clears his throat that you peer up at him. “You’re eating like you’ve been starved, didn’t you have a date tonight?”

There’s that question again, you suppose you gave him too much credit earlier. He wasn’t smart enough to just let it go. Or maybe he really was just letting his curiosity get the best of him. Either way there was no way in hell you were going to tell him that another date bailed on you. So instead you smile sweetly.

“You know how small the portions are at those types of restaurants, I took like two bites and it was all gone. Had some drinks after too. So, yeah, I’m famished. I know you are too. Eat.”

Your tone leaves no room for question. You’re both dancing around touchy subjects. Chuuya knows if he wants to get you to admit what really happened he would have to swallow his pride and admit he was overworking himself and he'd be damned if he ever let that happen. 

Or at least that’s what you thought. 

You watch him through your lashes as he opens the ramen and takes a bite, and then another, and then another. He hardly ever eats when there’s work to be finished. This is definitely a rare occasion and you have a sneaky feeling, somehow during the few seconds of your exchange in challenging glances, something shifts between the two of you. 

You stare at the other executive absolutely gobbed smacked at the fact that he’s actually listening to you. Your eyes are wide, your jaw is dropped open, and the chopsticks you were using to eat fall from your fingertips and splash into your soup. A few drops from the broth fly into your eye and you let out a hiss at the sting from the spices and temperature. 

The moment the two of you just had ends just as swiftly as you fan at your eyes frantically and then hold out your hand to Chuuya. “Eye drops- Oh my god your eye drops. Now, Chuuya.”

The ginger is jolted from his stupor when your voice becomes sharper. He reaches into the drawer to his left and produces a small bottle of eye drops, something you knew he keeps around due to his frequent late nights burning the midnight oil. It’s how he keeps his eyes from getting dry with exhaustion. 

You snatch the small bottle from his hands and throw your head back to all but squirt the soothing solution into your eye. It takes a moment to work, the sensation getting worse before it gets better. But after a moment you’re good as new, maybe even better than before. 

It’s a truly sobering experience and any left over buzz you were holding onto sadly fizzles out. You’re now stone cold sober and kicking yourself for coming here this late, know the only outcome is getting sent away so the ginger could finish his work in peace. You’re nothing but a distraction to him.

But if that were true, why even let you into his office, his space, in the first place?

“Thanks…” You hand the medicine back to Chuuya and pick your chopsticks back up to continue eating, pretending like nothing happened. “So, how many nights in a row have you slept here this week?”

You tilt your head to the couch that has a head pillow and blanket set up on it — inviting, almost, if you didn’t know how incredibly uncomfortable that couch was. It couldn’t be good for his back. You know he already deals with the residual chronic muscle pain he experiences after using his ability, especially after using corruption. You wish he would slow down, his body already pays for his ability, it doesn’t need to suffer because of his excessive working habits too. 

But then you would just sound like a broken record. 

Chuuya never really listens. He’s stubborn that way and it’s not just his body that pays for it, his social and love life pay the price for it too. It’s frustrating to care so deeply for someone who would rather think of others and their work than their own wellbeing. 

What’s worse, though, is that you’re selfish. You’ll take the heated stares and intimate touches in the dead of night on the rare occasions he’s not spending them at his desk over nothing at all. Maybe it isn’t selfish, maybe it’s self-deprecating but you can’t help yourself. You’ve tried to move on — that’s what you were trying to do tonight. But the universe has a sick and twisted sense of humor, so you once again find yourself in his office during the devil’s hour.

Suddenly you hear a muffled voice and you’re thrusted back to reality. Chuuya looks at you expectantly and you furrow your brows at him. “What?”

“I said: I figure you wouldn’t be eating with me right now if your date went well, you’d be over at his place, right?”

Your eye twitches in irritation and not from the soup broth that landed in it just moments ago. He’s trying to evade your question. Of course he was actively avoiding it, why would he ever admit to you something that you don’t think he’s admitted to himself. 

What’s worse is he’s pushing his question from earlier. Wording it differently to mask his nagging curiosity. His gaze is hypnotizing, something shifts again. You don’t think you care for the butterflies that erupted in your stomach. The usually light and exciting flutter of their wings now feel like razors slicing their way up your throat. It burns and you might throw up.

It’s so unfair, the way he makes you feel is unfair.

You don’t know what possesses you but a single syllable flies past your lips in response before you can catch it. “Her.”

“Her?” And this man has the audacity to look semi-amused as he says the word back to you in a questioning tone. 

In that moment you know he knows and you watch in abject horror as his amused expression twists into a knowing one. Now you’re sure, he’s aware that you know he knows. 

Your eye almost twitches again at the way his brow raises in amusement at your answer and suddenly you feel defensive. You don’t give a shit if he knows what you’re trying to do by dating around. You don’t care if he knows that each attempt has ended in failure. You don’t care that he knows that each failure ends in you crawling back to him.

You don’t care.

You don’t.

You steel your expression, eyes becoming sharp as they bore into Chuuya. “Yeah, it was supposed to be a woman I was meeting tonight.”

“Well she’s an idiot for not showing, especially when you look like that.” His tone sounds sincere and it makes you want to throw up.

You let out an incredulous scoff — you can’t believe that he just said that, of all people. “She’s not the only idiot.”

“She’s not?”

Now he’s really starting to piss you off, his smug expression tells you all you need to know. This must all be a game to him. He’s toying with you, he has to be, and he has been for a while now but you’re finally sick of it. You’re tired of the constant back and forth but not getting anywhere because he would rather stubbornly overwork himself half to death to have an excuse to avoid you than admit his obvious feelings for you. 

The revelation sends your whole body into a fit, you’re trembling and seething and it’s pouring out the seams. You’ve cracked. You should congratulate him, really, no one has elicited this much emotion from you before.

Chuuya’s demeanor changes when he notices how worked up you seem to be getting but he’s too late. You’re already past the point of being settled down because you’re shaking like a goddamn chihuahua. Your nostrils flare in irritation and ears flush in anger. 

“No, she’s not the only idiot that’s managed to fumble me. Look in a mirror and you’ll know who the other person is. Enjoy overworking yourself to death. I’m going home.” 

All at once the blazing rage that washed over you burns out when Chuuya makes no indication of moving to stop you and immediately you wish the ground would just crack open to swallow you whole. Suddenly you’re all too aware of your response to his play. It was more of an overreaction. How embarrassing? How is it that he’s able to elicit this strong of a reaction from you. 

How can he not follow after you like he has better things to do?

But he does have more important things to do than console you, doesn’t he?

For the second time tonight you’re mortified, but unlike earlier, this one was your own doing. You just threw a fit, had an actual tantrum, over someone who has made it clear he’s not ready for something that you think you are.

Maybe selfish is the right word.

You contemplate halting in your spot and apologizing but your pride keeps you from doing so. You should have never put all your cards on the table. You curse yourself for ever letting your true feeling for the ginger slip that one drunken night several months ago that when asked about the next day you had conveniently forgotten all about it. Something tells you that he remembered it clearly, so, if not stopping you was his final response to your confession then you have to accept that. 

Your hand reaches out for the door knob and you almost flinch when it comes in contact with the cold metal. He’s really just going to let you leave like this. Your head is a mess— no, your whole body is a mess. Your head is filled with fog, a mist of endless thoughts descending on you to make everything blurry. Your chest is like a tsunami of emotions washing over you in sharp waves. Then there are those damn razor sharp butterflies that are still threatening to claw up your throat. 

But just as you start to turn the knob, a gloved hand covers your own and halts your actions. Your breath hitches when the anxiety you’d been feeling just a moment ago completely dissipates. Chuuyas chest is pressed against your back and his forehead falls to your shoulder. 

“Chuuya wha-”

He doesn’t give you a chance to finish your question when he mumbles out, “I don’t need a mirror to know that…”

Oh. 

Is he really implying that he knows he’s been a fool? Is the world coming to an end? Chuuya? Admitting to being an idiot? You thought there was a higher chance of getting struck by lightning before hearing anything of the sort from the executive himself. 

“I’m sorry.”

You blink, you think your brain’s been fried, convinced that Chuuya can see the steam rolling out of your ears as you short circuit. “For what?”

You croak out the short question, words catching in your throat. It surprises even you when a sob follows. You hadn’t realized that the emotions you were feeling hadn’t dissipated but instead had been forced out in the most embarrassing way possible. 

“I…I’m sorry for…” Chuuya trails off and curses under his breath, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Jesus Christ. I’m sorry for not putting you first.” 

His voice trembles in something akin to fear. Something in your chest tears at his tone and it hurts. You look up at the ceiling to try to blink away the water that’s blurred your vision and take in a sharp breath after getting winded from the sudden blow. Your hand finally falls from the door knob and you both stand there in silence. The only noise is the grandfather clock that stands tall on the far end of his office, if it wasn’t for the loud ticking, everything would feel frozen. Something about the silence on your part is agonizing, you want to respond, but your voice is caught in your throat, swallowed dryly as you try to wet the dry patches stinging the lining of your esophagus.

Funny how your eyes feel too wet while your throat is too dry. 

You try to take a few breaths to calm yourself down enough to speak but you can feel the impatience radiating off of Chuuya and it just makes you even more anxious. It almost physically pains you but you take a step away from the ginger and stride across the room to an open window. Fresh air, something you always appreciated about Chuuya is that he prefers open windows and fresh air to fans or air conditioning if he can help it. The executive doesn’t follow, he hasn’t even moved from his spot. His head is still drooped down from where it was resting on your shoulder and suddenly your mouth and throat flood with saliva. That familiar feeling of nausea hitting you like a freight train once again.

You clear your throat to speak but realize -- how the hell do you respond to that? Are you really upset with Chuuya? Yes. Are you upset with yourself for letting things go this far? Also yes. So, as much as you want to blame all of this on the gravity manipulator, you can’t. 

Your shoulders slump and your gaze stays glued to the twinkling city lights in the skyline as you finally speak. “You always chose work. Always.”

Chuuya looks up at that. Your words seemingly hit a nerve as irritation flashes across his face before he can contain it. You bristle at that, preparing for an argument. You’re exhausted and don’t want to argue but you will if you have to because although you know you’re at fault too, you’re not going to just let this asshole get away with his part in all of this.

Luckily, the ginger simmers down easily and slumps again, showing you how truly exhausted he is. “That’s not entirely true, I chose you…Sometimes….”

“You think I should be grateful for that? You only chose me instead of work ‘sometimes’ to make yourself feel better about stringing me along.” You’re not looking at him when you speak, too interested with the view, or at least that’s what you’re telling yourself.  “Or to get your mind off of work. I was just an escape to you. Nothing more.” 

This time you don’t have to look back at him to feel the frustration radiating off of him in a similar way gravity manipulation does when he activates it. It’s hot, his frustration, you imagine if you reached out there was a chance you’d get burned. It’s rare to witness Chuuya losing his cool like this, the only other person besides yourself that could get him riled up like this long gone from the organization. Thinking about him makes you even more bitter so you take another stab at Chuuya.

“You certainly put on a convincing act, though. So congrats for that I guess.”

Snap. 

You imagine that’s the sound that would’ve been made when Chuuya’s patience finally breaks. His steps are heavy and you almost think he’s activated his ability. You almost forget how fast he is because you barely have time to turn around before he’s got a firm grip on your face. His hold is unrelenting as he forces you to look at him. 

Chuuya looks like a wreck, so many emotions written all over his face but most of all he’s hurt by your words. You know it’s wrong, you shouldn’t be lashing out at him like this but a part of you is pleased that he looks just as devastated as you feel. This is not your proudest moment by far and you’re sure you’ll feel ashamed over it later. Right now, however, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel guilty in the slightest. You said what you said and you're going to say it with your whole chest.

A shaky breath is let out by the executive standing before you. “That’s unfair. You’re being unfair.”

There’s no way this man is accusing you of being the unfair one here.

“You were unfair to me first. I’m tired. Be straight with me or just leave me alone, Chuuya.” Any fight you had in you moments ago vanishes as you finally give up.

Chuuya’s reaction shows you that he sees it, the way you’re letting him hold all the cards in this, making this his decision, the final one when it comes to this situationship. You’re done, you’re tired and now you just want this shitty night to be over with. If you had a white piece of fabric on you, you’d wave it like a flag, surrendering completely. 

He’s not good with his words, Chuuya has never been as articulate as some of the others, but he is good with actions. His actions have always spoken volumes for him, so why wouldn’t that work for him now? The executive pulls you in and crashes his lips to yours in a desperate attempt to convey to you what he couldn’t speak.

You’re a little slow on the uptake as your brow furrows and you attempt to pull away. You look at him incredulously but the expression he’s making has you halting altogether. His eyes are screwed shut and his brows furrowed in concentration and maybe a little bit in fear by the way you can feel his lips and hands slightly trembling against your face. It clicks then.

Chuuya Nakahara is finally choosing you over his work. 

This was him telling you in his own way that he’s not letting you give up like you wanted to. And if you can claim to know anything about Chuuya, it’s that he always makes good on a promise. That’s what has you melting into his hold and returning his kiss with just as much fervor. 

You both stay like that for a long while and you feel like Chuuya is trying to devour you whole in this one single kiss. As if he’s scared that if he doesn’t, you’ll slip from his grasp forever, but that would be impossible with the way he’s holding onto you for dear life. Even if you wanted to, which in this moment you didn’t, you couldn’t escape him. But you do need to pull away for air though. You shift your face the best you can away from his and even though he tries to chase your lips, you manage to separate from him.

You instantly bring your hands up to his wrist and nuzzle your face into his hands, showing him you still have no plans of going anywhere. The tension in his body dissipates and he watches you closely, patiently waiting for your response. As if you kissing him back wasn’t enough. 

“You piss me off, y’know that?” Chuuya lets out a chuckle at your statement and leans in to rest his forehead on yours.

His eyes bore into yours and there’s something there that you’ve never seen before, a sort of adoration you think he’s been holding back for a long time now. “Yeah, I have a confession to make that might piss you off even more…”

You stiffen in anticipation for the worst, staring up at him suspiciously with narrowed eyes. What was it now? You wrack your brain thinking about what he could possibly still be holding back. All you wanted was to know where you stood with him and now you do. So what else would he be hiding from you?

��It’s, uhh…Well it has to do with your date tonight, and maybe all of the other first dates that stood you up…” The look on your face must tell him that you’re picking up on where this is going and his grip on you tightens once again. “It was fucked up of me, I know. I’ll- I’ll make it up to you…I’ll take you out on two dates for each first date I ruined.”

Oh. 

You can’t even really find it in yourself to be that upset. It clears up a lot of inconsistencies for you. You have full confidence in your personality and looks, so it wasn’t adding up why you were being stood up so much. Even with you being a part of the upper echelon of the Port Mafia, that’s not public information. So, intimidation was ruled out too. You are becoming increasingly more annoyed at the thought of it all.

Maybe you should find it in yourself to be more upset about this���

Your expression displays just how unconvinced you are by his words, Chuuya can clearly see it and sense it so he tacks on some extra sweet talking to sooth your overthinking. “I’ve got a lot of time to make up for anyways.”

Your previous statement of Chuuya not being very good with his words is a lie. You were lying. The simple statement is enough to have you melting into him again. Maybe it’s the exhaustion. Maybe he got lucky. Maybe you’re just that down bad for him. Or maybe it’s all of the above. Who knows (you do).

Either way you find yourself giving in again for hopefully the last time tonight, but not before you decide to add a condition for your own benefit. “...Fine. But any trip or out of town get away counts as only one date.”

“Don’tcha think you’re getting greedy now, Doll?” Chuuya lets out another chuckle, shaking his head a little.

You shrug with a soft grin on your lips. “No, you owe me. Plus, it’s like you said, got a lot of time to make up for.”

[hoiststowline]

Heloooooo

I see your reqs are open

I'd love to see reader using hotrod/rodimus as a heater and Roddy being like sorry I can't get up their asleep.

rodimus x reader

[a/n: hello!! & thank you, this was sm fun to write!]

He swears he has it down to a perfect science, but he’d rather keep that to himself than try to justify his second grade equation at best to Perceptor who rolled his eyes four times during the explanation. It benefits you first, the most important part- and at the very least the other two things that follow after are just collateral he was willing to accept.

Rodimus should not have access to the thermostat. That is evident when the temperature always seems to fluctuate dramatically about an hour before he’s needed to appear for something, whether it be a meeting or a routine sweep to ensure everything was in working order.

It’s always the thermostat right within your wing of the ship, locked but always broken into. The bottom button almost appears damaged, as if the offender had clicked it so many times it had begun to become worn-down and unusable.

As if on cue, roughly about fifteen minutes after the crime occurs, you’re shuffling into his room with a blanket wrapped around your shivering form. Rodimus can’t entirely feel the drastic change, he can sense it’s colder than normal, but the dipping temperature always sends you into an adorable pout.

“It’s broken again?” You murmur, each syllable accompanied by a visible breath. “That’s the third time this week,”

“I don’t think it was ever really fixed from last time,” It’s almost pitiful, the way he can’t even try to contain his smile. “Just got worse, I guess.”

He observes you, finding patience for about two seconds before he’s on his feet, being selfish for just another moment. He loves you, and wants nothing more in this instance than to give you undivided attention and sloppy kisses.

“What?” You ask, tilting your head back to meet his gaze. “I came here to complain, I didn’t-“

But both he and you knew that was a lie. You’d walked perfectly into Rodimus’ trap, perhaps subconsciously seeking his warmth that you knew he radiated. The Prime was a walking heater, and he had ensured early on that you were well aware of it.

Somehow, he’d coaxed you to his side. You couldn’t quite pinpoint the moment exactly, but it was most likely when your hands began to tremble from the cold. No amount of blankets could save you, especially within a metal ship where every surface ran about thirty degrees cold on average.

Rodimus always says the same thing every time, about how you slot so perfectly between his shoulder and helm. The most important spot, where he can rub his cheek along your stomach and keep you safely positioned there with his right servo. It’s effective, as the first time you’d actually found his chassis ran so hot you almost couldn’t bear it.

“Don’t you have a meeting in like thirty minutes?” You mumble, impossibly tiny fingers tracing random lines along his helm.

“So you’ve got thirty minutes. Take it or leave it,” He’ll never let you leave, because he enjoys this far too much. Like he said, he’s helping to solve your immediate problem, but the bonus is that he gets this time with you, alone, and the small hiccup was just that.

It isn’t very long before you’re asleep, entirely still as your breathing evens out. It’s perfect, and how you haven’t caught on yet is a mystery for another time, though he has his own suspicions you’re far wiser to this than you display. It wouldn’t matter, even if he didn’t have to break the thermostat every other day or so, because it was all part of the fun.

Right on time, the door to his room slides over, and there stands a certain bot he’d been precariously avoiding. “You cannot be serious.” Magnus whispers, only being compliant because it was you, not so much for Rodimus’ sake. “This is the third time this week. You can’t get out of your responsibilities because you’ve tricked y/n into your schemes.”

“Sorry,” That ever sincere smile appears, gesturing to his company with a hushed tone. ��Can’t do anything about it until they wake up. You’ll have to carry on without me,”

And like always, Magnus departs, mildly frustrated, but he can’t ever find the sense in waking you up. For a while, it keeps Rodimus appeased, and if he has to sacrifice some broken thermostats and delayed meetings to achieve it, then it’s worth it.

[twistedpink]

Mc Inserts x TWST characters pt.3 pt.2 pt.1

Al-Asim!Mc x Riddle Rosehearts @/kyokills

UGH the one of many kids x only child dynamic is to die for!!! You’re his light, the only person who could be so contradictory to him, while understanding his circumstances fully. He fixes your hair when you mess it up, and you give him the confidence for what his “letting loose” is. It is total balance. The two of you make small talk over tea and biscuits a little too often to just be friendly, but you guys haven’t crossed that line yet- It drives everyone you know insane.

“Why are you here? I swore you were aware of study hall this evening..”

“Ah! Do you have room for one more? I wanted to see you in action! Pew pew”

Pomefiore!Mc x Ace Trappola (Anon suggestion!)

The two of you are bad people in very different ways, so the only solution is to suck together! SDC is the perfect opportunity, too bad both of you are terrible roommates. You’re a judgy little whiner, and he’s a skeezy prick- AKA a match made in heaven <3 The crux of the problem is your assholeish behaviour only multiples when you hang out. Everyone else hates you, so you supplement the lacking connection by getting ever closer,, Soon enough you’ll get the message and hook up. Just not yet.

“Ace! What did I tell you about taking my serums from the fridge??”

“Do I look like I listened? Ow!”

Savanaclaw!Mc x Jade Leech (Anon suggestion!)

Ahhh,, Those enhanced senses, fluffy tail, and downright violent demeaner makes you the perfect lab rat. So many possibilities from taste testing to psychology! Too bad you hate Jade’s guts, he’ll wear you down eventually :) His little test subject was only defending their friend against the big-bad housewarden, and as the nurturing vice, how could he ever turn a blind eye to your struggle? He tries to be magnanimous with you- if only you’d taken his deal in the first place,,, With his stalking loving badgering, in a few short weeks you’re practically domesticated! Those days where you threatened to “swallow him whole” are water under the bridge! Now what is he to do with his new pet?

“My, aren’t your canines impressive?”

“Well you don’t have to say it like that,,”

Civilian!Mc x Silver Vanrouge (Anon suggestion!)

Your poor, neglected (unofficial!) delivery boy being stuck in the rain is not something you want to watch all weekend, no matter how good he looks soaked. Your parents go out around this time anyways, and over the years of cozy meetups he wears down your walls with sweet smiles and even sweeter kisses <3 Silver is the perfect boyfriend, and while getting whisked away to briar valley makes you nervous, he’s worth it. Of course all the sneaking around right now hurts your feelings a bit, but doesn’t distance make the heart grow fonder?

“Aren’t you just darling! Are you sure I can’t keep you til’ dinner?”

“You’ll just have to get by with my jacket, I’ll be back next weekend :)”

Ignihyde!Mc x Sebek Zigvolt @/fidenciocryptidcreechur

Sure, your dorm’s not known for its diplomacy, and maybe you’re a little stunted by it, but you’ll be damned if you fail art. Anything taught by Crewel is a nightmare for the introverts of ignihyde, and for your information it does suck to suck! Self proclaimed “EASIEST” elective your butt (that you fully suck at btw! You really need this freaking credit!) newsflash, nothing about art is easy! It’s all in the interpretation, and the practice, and the reference, and- holy moly is that a muscular extrovert on a HORSE? It’s time to put your big boy pants on, and pay a fifteen year old for their time. + biceps. #lockedin

“MC! I’M READY TO BE DRAWN!”

“alright! Hold that pose..”

Vice president!Mc x Rollo Flamme

Every mysterious hero needs their roguishly annoying best friend, just guess which one you are! You hover around your pampered wittle boss for a couple hours a day in exchange for the elusive office wifi. Rollo insists magicam is rotting your brain. You just respond by his spamming his ancient phone with couple’s challenges, despite being immediately rejected on a daily basis. The student body says you’re “odd” on the best of days, but your office crush hasn’t kicked you out yet- so you must be doing something right! Right?

“Woah, that guy is beautiful!”

“I’d like to assume you aren’t referring to Malleus Draconia, but it seems all your romantic conquests are an effort to “bug” me.”

“I live to serve, sir :)”

[bibi-e]

Sevika + virgin! reader

info: This was a request! i loved receiving it so so much, and I apologize for taking me so long. i hope you have a good time reading as much as I had written! warnings: smut, minors dni, nothing too descriptive, gn! reader/terms (baby & dove), reader has a pussy, , Sevika being gentle, virgin! reader, first-time sex, cunnilingus, strap, and dildo usage. Enjooy :)

Sevika will not push you or try to incite you to do it if you don’t want or don’t feel ready, but the moment you give her the green light and proceed to talk and understand what are the things you most like and don’t. Oh my, you better get ready.

She will be all over you. It is a must to kiss and caress every part of your body. Delicately passing her hand over your face to move down to your collarbone and the curve of your breasts, groping and squeezing one with her human hand while her metal one holds you in place by your hip. She can be a bit rough if she feels you pushing into her touches, the cold feeling battling with the warmer of her human hand against your sensitive parts mixes something in your brain that turns the needy lustful.

Sevika will sit on the bed leaning her back against the metal headboard and have you straddling her muscular thighs, nearly spreading uncomfortably your legs to accommodate both. She must have you on top of her when it’s your first time. It doesn’t matter how you voice your wishes of having her on top of you or any other position. It won’t happen, for now. Sevika needs to watch you, all your reactions, and savor it. The tremble of your lips as she has your bottom lip caged in between her teeth, your eyes dropping to look at her once she releases, she thinks it’s sexy how you look so innocent receiving those stimulations for the first time. From how she does it especially.

Sevika continues to trace your curves, removing your shirt, and the sign she lets out has you growing weaker every time. She wants you, needs you, and she voices and reacts likewise. “Holy fuck baby, let me take this off too please, or will you do it for me. I promise once it’s off you won’t regret it.” And with that you remove the piece that covers your breasts and her hands are immediately on them, passing her thumb over your nipple side with the cold metal feeling over your left and once she’s done playing with her fingers it’s time for her mouth to do the job.

She is a drooler, messing herself over your nipple and leaving it wetter than your panties at that moment. Your hips began to move to search for a form of relief in your pussy, “My baby is getting impatient I see…” Sevika notices and she release your nipple with a wet pop, “Me too baby, you look so fucking hot and I haven’t seen it fully. I need to see more. Would you let me, wouldn’t you?”

Sevika lays you on your back and gets up, once you have your eyes locked in hers she begins to undress, slowly undoing the buttons of her cropped while her metal arms work on her belt and pants, dropping them on the floor and making quick work to do the same with her undergarments and top bra. Your face is burning hot and your legs pressing together, Sevika reaches to finally get rid of that piece of cloth and sees you fully, and the hunger in her eyes once she sees your dripping pussy calling for her she falls on her knees and worships you until you cum for the first time on her tongue.

She will work you open, talking you through it if it hurts, her fingers already feel a lot and the sensation is something you could ever dream of or do it yourself while alone in your room. As if you feel like your head couldn’t get dizzier, she withdraws her actions to get the dildo she keeps beside her bed. The size of it doesn’t scare you, but you sure it would take some time to get used to its stretch.

Contrary to popular belief, Sevika is gentle when she is blanketing you with her larger frame and slowly working her strap inside of you. She can be rough, mean, and even reckless, but for you and for your first time with her, she will adore, give you the delicate and the taste of the waters of it.

Once she sees you took enough to have you whirling and breathing heavily for more, she takes your body on her flesh arm and scoops you so you are on top of her, the new position makes her dildo hit a part deeper that makes your legs weak  to sustain your body. However, Sevika caged you and worked you up and down on her lap, slowly drawing circles on your hip as you picked up your own pace that had you moaning against her neck, blue shiny scars brushing against your lips that send shivers down her spine, and the strap pressing against her clit while you bounced on top of her were inviting breathy moans and praises from her lips.

“That's it dove, doesn't it feel good? Oh, you look so beautiful on top of me, huh.” Your stomach began tightening, your legs burned, but the tip of Sevika’s strap was hitting so good that you couldn't stop. Her strong hands held your hips, briefly taking away the pleasure from you, to rock your hips back and forth against her. The motion made you press against the leather strap that held the dildo in place. The texture against your most sensitive flesh was enough to have you laughing your head back and screaming Sevika's name.

She held you close, helping you go down from your high arms, caging you and laying you back on the bed. Caressing your sore spots and telling you how good you’ve been, helping you cover your nude body and taking you for a shower, maybe a warm bath, but surely after that she will hold you close to her warm body and let you know how much she loves you.

[jmflowers]

I wish you would write a fic where... Carla and Lisa get more than five minutes to themselves in the hospital, uninterrupted! (Bonus points if their conversation brings up Kate.) ✨

She cracks an eye at the sound of the door, expecting a nurse to be popping in for yet another vitals check. It’s that time of the evening: when supper has already come and gone and the hallway is slowly growing quiet as the last of the days’ visitors head on home.

The whole thing is frustrating in its predictability. Makes Carla want to scratch at her skin, a bit; claw her way out of this mundane routine and back to something more resembling normalcy.

Like a glass of wine in the pub, Lisa sat opposite her. Their hands brushing with intention across the tabletop. The twinkle of bright eyes gazing into her own. The flutter of want surging and swirling inside, waiting. Anticipating.

But it’s a swish of familiar blonde hair that comes through the door, followed closely by a soft smile that causes Carla’s stomach to flip with delight. She greets it with a tentative one of her own, pulled from the reverie by the more realistic alternative.  

No, there’s not many heated glances in hospital.

“I wasn’t expecting you back today,” Carla breathes, opening the other eye to watch as Lisa shifts ever closer. She settles a hip gently against the edge of the bed, her fingers brushing delicately at the blanket as she leans in.

“I know,” Lisa answers, just as soft. Just as whispered. She shrugs, seemingly unbothered that she’s already been by for their typical morning catch up, and again just after tea. She’s set her hair loose for this visit, though, shed the armour of DS Swain in favour of the Lisa that Carla’s grown to know.

Carla feels that cocoon start to wrap around them – the one that blocks out the rest of the world when it’s just them, just the two of them and the intoxicating this.

“But the kids are all at home, so I figured we could have a minute to ourselves.”

“Ooh,” Carla teases, “How romantic.” She tries to hold the smile, tries not to let her gaze drop to the tubes dangling off her hand. Tries not to feel the bubble of irritation in her gut at the sight of them.

But it settles so heavy – like a sharp tack waiting to pop this and all.

“Could be,” Lisa chuckles, reaching forward as though the touch of her fingers on Carla’s arm might keep her from pulling away. “Could see what happens to that heart rate monitor when I kiss you.” She grins, eyebrows wiggling, all the effort so apparent that Carla kind of wants to scream.

“Give over,” she says instead.

Lisa shakes her head, winding a hand around one of Carla’s and pulling it into her lap. “Can’t hide the way it spikes when I walk in the room, babe.”

Despite herself, Carla laughs, turning to see the tell-tale rise on the monitor screen as Lisa’s thumb swipes across her hand. She can feel the affects in her body: the tumble low in her belly, the tingling of her skin, the squeeze between her legs.

Even while she’s holed up in a hospital bed…

“No bloomin’ privacy in this place,” Carla grumbles half-heartedly, watching as Lisa preens where she sits. Watching as Lisa does that cocky little lift of her chin that always seems to undo any semblance of her own self control. “Don’t,” she scolds.

“Don’t what?” Lisa lets her eyes go wide when she says it, all feigned innocence.

As if she doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing.

“Is that what you came here for?” Carla murmurs, tugging their joined hands towards her chest.

The unexpected motion pulls Lisa slightly off her seat and she giggles, startled as she tumbles closer against Carla’s side. She catches herself with a hand on the mattress, careful not to put her weight anywhere that might hurt.

“Just to get me all hot and bothered when I haven’t got the energy?”

Lisa at least has the gall to look embarrassed. Her cheeks flush as she tips forward, pressing a featherlight kiss to the corner of Carla’s mouth. “Of course not,” she promises, “I just missed you, is all.”

Carla lets out a hum that makes it clear she only half believes her. That she isn’t wholly pleased herself to have Lisa in her room without Ryan or Bobby or Betsy hovering in a chair nearby. “I missed you, too,” she whispers.

“Not gonna tell me you’ve not brushed your teeth this time, are you?” Lisa asks, still near enough that her breath ghosts across Carla’s cheek. The sensation leaves shivers in its wake, gooseflesh standing at attention beneath her hospital gown.

And even though she feels unattractive, in this moment – utterly undesirable, with her hair unwashed and all the baggy clothes she’s been hiding in hanging off her skin – she lets Lisa close the gap. Lets her kiss her proper, with all the gentle conviction she’s been swearing with her words and her actions for days now.

I love you. I’m going nowhere. We’re okay.

It feels like coming home.

She’s breathless for a different reason when Lisa finally pulls away. Exhausted, as she has been ever since the start of the year. She growls, letting her eyelids flutter shut as she collapses against the pillows.

“This is supposed to be the fun part,” Carla mumbles, leaning into the caress of Lisa’s fingers on her cheek. It’s soothing, that – makes it harder to open her eyes again. Sleep claws at the edges of her consciousness, coaxing. “One kiss and I’m done for.”

“Yeah, well, you’re meant to be resting,” Lisa cajoles, “Not kissing me.”

The tell-tale press of Lisa’s forehead against her own a moment later lifts the corners of Carla’s mouth. And she knows, even without looking, that the monitor must be giving her away again. That, despite her very real attempts to push Lisa away, this is what she’s been craving.

This comfort. This connection.

This safety and support and love.

“We can have fun when you’re feeling better,” Lisa promises, “I’m going nowhere.”

[in1-nutshell]

Can I request more of Apollonis and drift with them forcefully bonding? Drfit needs to make up with his child

And make you Drift needs to do.

Hope you enjoy!

Apollonis and Drift

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Cybertronian reader

MTMTE

Apollonis tries to avoid Drift at all costs.

Which isn’t an easy feat considering that they were in the same ship, everyone was bound to bump into each other at some point.

And when one was working in the med bay, the chances of seeing the same bot increased by a tenfold.

Rodimus didn’t make things easier either.

As soon as he found out about Drift and Apollonis being related, he tried his best to get his Amica to reconnect with her.

While she has respect for her Captain, this is one thing she has asked him to stay out of.

Which he politely disagrees with and continues to try and help Drift.

Too bad things haven’t been working out well for both mechs.

Apollonis walks over to her assigned med slab. There is a slight glare in her optics when she see Drift sitting there. Apollonis: “What happened this time?” Drift: “That’s a bit harsh to ask, isn’t it?” Her glare hardens as she continues to do the checkup. There was a heavy silence. Apollonis: “How did you get this rod in your gears?” Drift: “It may have involved Rodimus and I—" Apollonis: “Oh if Rodimus is involved, you’re going to have to bring that up with Ratchet. And this time, keep things short. You can’t keep using the med bay as a way to keep on talking to him like that.” Drift: “Like wha—OW!” Apollonis gives a fake smile as she squeezed a bit hard around the mesh wound area. Apollonis: “Oh did that hurt? I’m so sorry.” Drift grunts a bit. Drift: “Look at you, your sarcasm has improved so much Little One.” She freezes for a second before putting on a neutral face. Apollonis: “You’re free to go now.” Drift: “Wait…” The young doctor turns and walks away from the med slab. Drift looks sadly at his daughter walking away.

Drift knows he messed things up with Apollonis.

There isn’t a day where he doesn’t regret how he treated her back when they were with the Cons.

He was her father for Primus sake!

He should have done more to protect her!

The mech accepts all the cold shoulders and sarcastic comments as part of his punishment.

Most bots can physically feel the tension these two have whenever they are in the same room.

It was generally thought that the two had some sort of shared bitter history.

What exactly is it?

No one has managed to get the story yet.

Mainly because Drift is very vague about it and Apollonis gets a bit touchy on the subject.

Also they didn’t want to push the Ex-Wrecker and mini Ratchet too far.

Though that doesn’t stop some crew members from asking.

Apollonis and Tailgate are sitting in a booth at Swerve’s. He was waiting for Cyclonus to show up and wanted some company. Tailgate: “So… what happened with you and Drift?” Apollonis sighs deeply. Apollonis: “Tailgate, we’ve talked about this.” Tailgate: “I’m just trying to think on what he could have done! I mean you’re a nice bot, kinda like a nicer Ratchet.” Apollonis tries to hide a chuckle at that comment. Tailgate: “Your even nice to Cyclonus and not everyone is. Why hate Drift?” Apollonis: “I don’t hate Drift… I don’t think I could if I tried…somethings can’t be so easily talked about Tailgate.” Tailgate sighs in defeat. Tailgate: “You’re starting to sound like Cyclonus.” Apollonis chuckles a bit at the minibots expense. Apollonis: “I’ll take that as a complement.”

Ratchet does try and talk to her about talking to Drift.

She needs closure and Drift needs it too.

Apollonis proves to be just as stubborn as her mentor and father.

Even with her avoiding the topic of talking to Drift, Ratchet did catch a little moment the two shared.

A couple bots had managed to get the drop on Drift and left him a bit banged up. Bot 1: “So what are ya going to do Deadlock?” Drift flinched a bit hearing his former name. Bot 2: “Aww look at him on the ground. Pathetic!” Drift gets a swift kick to the tanks and grunts a bit. Bot 1: “What? Not going to make us pay? C’mon, hit me!” Apollonis behind him: “With pleasure!” WHAM! The doctor decked the bot square in the face, successfully knocking him out before kicking one of his friends in the face. Out of pure surprise and shock the bots drag their leader away. Apollonis dusted her servos a bit. Apollonis: “What a bunch of beryllium baloney…” She turned to a slightly battered Drift. He notices her optics soften a bit as she hoists him onto her back. He slightly remembered the position being called ‘piggy back’ or something like that. Apollonis: “I can’t leave you alone for one minute, can I? Always getting yourself into trouble… ” Drift: “Aww—ouch. You do care—Hey!” She gave a little smile when she pinched the back of his pedes and made her way to the med bay.

[blublurz]

900 words. sonic the hedgehog/gender-neutral reader.

Competitive isn't the word you'd use to describe yourself.

Driven, motivated, obnoxiously ambitious - but never competitive. It's not nearly as strong of a word needed to properly define how you played in gear riding, especially with such a plentiful prize. The number of zeroes following the coins offered was enough to make you feel dizzy.

Maybe, just maybe, that dizzy feeling is what caused the crash in the first place, though that accidental shove from Storm certainly had something to do with it too.

The on-field medic had said it wasn't anything terrible. It was a bad friction burn and it hurt if you moved several of your joints a few degrees in any direction, but nothing was broken so you'd count it as a win in your book.

The damage done was bad enough that the med-tent to the side of the starting line wasn't enough. Visiting an actual doctor took longer than you would have liked, but you were back in your hotel room soon enough. Other riders had stopped by after the race and everything that followed had finally ended late into the night. Some brought teddy bears and flowers while others brought gossip and news, neither of which you particularly cared for given your current condition, but you thanked them all the same.

Stuck on bedrest and forced to scroll through the same five travel channels the television offered, boredom was quick to creep his claws into your shoulders and dig them in viciously. What else could you do? Certainly not look around the city you’ve been dying to visit since finding out it was home to one of the tracks for the prix, that was what.

A groan forces itself out of your throat.

“Knock, knock.”

Already pushing his way inside your room before you can get the motivation to habitually answer “come in,” Sonic pokes his head inside the room with a grin that can only be read as no good. He’s holding one hand behind his back and is careful to not turn around when he steps in and shuts the door behind him. A younger, less-injured you would have welcomed him in excitedly and asked him what kind of havoc he was looking to cause, but now? Your body was beginning to scream as the painkillers wore off and you could only hope that he read the room. Yeah, you were bored, but that didn’t mean you were looking for anything Sonic-levels of exciting.

“A little birdie told me you were looking down,” the blue blur hums as he sits himself on the edge of your bed. Still careful to not show his hand, Sonic’s sure to lean with you when you curiously try to take a peak. “I wanted to see if there was anything I could do to cheer you up.”

One of your brows raises as you put a stop to your losing game of hide-and-seek, lower back flaring up in pain. “My hero. However shall I repay you?” Your tone, though flat and tired, still holds a playful lilt that makes Sonic’s grin grow wider.

“Don’t thank me yet! You haven’t even seen what I got you!”

“I don’t need to,” you’re quick to huff, slumping back into your headboard of mostly pillows. “As long as it gives me something to do without getting up, I’m thankful.”

Sonic lets out something between a scoff and a laugh as he pulls the gift from his back, free hand wiggling its fingers as though to further entice your interest. He leans forward when you take the box from him, crossing his arms over your shins just so he can rest his chin on them.

Catching your hands when you try setting it down on your thighs, Sonic only smiles when you look around the box and at him. “What’re you doing?”

He's barely able to keep his volume contained to anything below an inside voice. “Don't worry about it! Just open it!”

You roll your eyes but do as told, letting him hold it as your hands work at unraveling the surprisingly intricate bow. There's no doubt he went to Amy or Cream for it. He’s much too impatient to spend more than a minute perfecting the coils of the ribbon and the wrapping was too crisply done for him to take the time making sure each corner was perfectly folded.

Carefully picking at the tape, pulling apart the wrapping paper, and lifting the flaps of the box, you let out a quiet sigh at the sight. You're met with a get well soon card, a stuffed animal that looks an awful lot like him, and a couple packs of chocolate.

Finding there's tissue paper packed at the bottom of it after placing each gift to the side, you hum.

“You should totally take it out,” Sonic whispers.

“And if I don't?”

“I’d be suuuper disappointed.”

Your laughs grow louder as you do as told, tossing the tissue to the side just to unveil him beaming ear-to-ear. Of course this was the gift he'd been planning to give you, because what better gift was there from him than him?

Dropping the box to the floor before nudging pillows and bears out of the way to make room, Sonic doesn't hesitate to make himself comfortable in the space against your side. He swipes the remote from where you discarded it on the duvet, swiftly clicking through the channels while you open a pack of sweets.

“Now how about we put something actually good on, yeah?”

[mandarino-o]

there’s this recurring theme when it comes to regulus of him watching his life pass him by, being on the outside and not knowing how to participate etc but what if one day he wakes up and he’s Literally invisible…like no one can see him anymore and regulus is just like….whatever not much has changed it’s fine….it’s going to fix itself soon…except by doing nothing about it people quickly start to forget who he is, and the more people forget about him the more tired and weak he becomes….and he realizes he has to do Something or he will fade out of existence completely & forever

[cuteniaarts]

Small drawing collection of my latest creation Emran as a teenager/freshly minted Air Acolyte, for my dear partner in unhinged OC shenanigans @katkastrofa, as promised <3

[deus-ex-mona]

ok yk what. now that i’ve had some time to process nghy canon, considering the current pacing of gen retcon, i think their next step is as ✨clear as day✨

i really like seeing them happy together, but i truly do think that they should divorce and either live the rest of their lives as single besties; partners in hero/heroine-isms, but better off as just friends, or go their separate ways for a bit and get back together when they’re a little older and wiser, staying together for good this time around, as each other’s first and last boyfriend/girlfriend

[pink-lemonadefairy]

🌻 ₊˚⊹ ࿔ 🌳

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~