#please read so i can talk to someone about please

[whentheycry-problems]

Canonically, Keiichi Maebara's only objection to getting forcefemmed is that it would tarnish his reputation.

He dissociates and overperforms a caricature of masculinity. He is hyperaware of the misogynistic treatment women face, and sometimes wonders how he would deal with misogyny. He also narrowly avoids facing actual transphobia for crossdressing in front of a bunch of misogynist assholes.

Keiichi doesn't really have any close male friends and is mostly comfortable around girls*. At one point he gets annoyed that his friends share some nebulous bond that he doesn't, and wishes he could share that bond too. They're literally his closest friends. There's no deeper bond that he's missing out on other than... also being a girl.

There is a scene where he confronts a another guy, Kameda, about his "secret embarassingly feminine hobby". the whole thing takes place in a bathroom and is framed like he's clocking a trans woman. he literally threatens to out the guy, but eventually confides "don't worry, I too struggle with having embarassingly feminine interests". The "embarassingly feminine hobby" that they share is "eating delicious pastries". This story has a whole bunch of symbolism about eating pastries being a symbol for having weird thoughts about women, but is pretty clear that Keiichi and Kameda are having different thoughts about women than the horny straight guys are having.

When Keiichi gets into a card game tournament with a penalty forcefem game for the loser, his tactic for success is literally to "think like a girl". Keiichi is extremely interested in women's clothing and repeatedly claims to be a pervert despite, frankly, seeming totally uninterested in sex. He has a bunch of opinions about cosplay that basically boil down to "Women's clothing is so cool but can we please not talk about the body of the person wearing them. If someone wore women's clothing, I bet they'd feel really happy about it. Wearing women's clothing would be the best thing ever. For someone else. I swear I these are heterosexual feelings." Kameda, the other guy with "embarassingly feminine interests" feels almost the exact same way. If you read between the lines, Keiichi is absolutely one of those eggs who swears they just have a thing for crossdressing.

*Keiichi's best friend Mion would almost certainly be a trans guy if she knew that was an option. She is consistently extremely uncomfortable with performing femininity. She always tries to take an authoritative masculine role. Mion has straight up said, completely unprompted "I wonder what it'd be like to be born as a man" and has gotten THIS close to breaking down in tears and sobbing about how she wishes she could start life over as a guy. Also, she constantly calls herself an old man and carries a phallic symbol everywhere. The only part of femininity she seems to enjoy is the thought of dating Keiichi. And the closest they ever got to that actually happening, she put him in a maid outfit and paraded him around as her trophy wife. She seems to be obsessed with forcefem as a coping method for dysphoria, something like "at least I won't be the only one forced to act like a girl"

Higurashi: When They Cry is about a bunch of idiots trying to figure out their identities. And then the killings start.

If you see this post you’re legally required to tell me at least one trans woman headcanons you have for a canonically male character, I never get to see transfem headcanons like that, give me them, and for equality of my own please know estrogen could have saved Insector Haga and Dinosaur Ryuzaki I will not elaborate, also Yuya.

[goodlucktai]

could you please do 29 for dialouge prompts, leo and donnie?

dialogue prompts

29. “Tell me where it hurts, and be specific.”

x

When they were little, Donatello’s twin was his translator. 

Donnie was the last of the turtles to start talking—though the first to start reading and writing and dismantling kitchen appliances—and no amount of coercion or bribery or outright begging was enough to get a single word out of him in English or Japanese before he was good and ready. 

Splinter was in over his head already just by having four unplanned children to raise who were not even the same species as him. He fretted about his sons’ health and their development in those early years, and had absolutely no one he could turn to for regular parenting advice, let alone advice on what was and was not normal for mutant turtle children. 

He tells the story now with a rueful good humor granted only by hindsight and a decade and a half of distance, but at the time, Donatello refusing his second meal in a row while blinking silently in face of his father’s increasingly worried questions probably would have driven Splinter to tear his fur out if not for the contribution made by Donnie’s talkative striped shadow. 

“It’s the, uh, the red things, daddy,” Leo piped up. “He doesn’t like those.” 

Splinter blinked at him, and then down at the plate Donnie was refusing to so much as look at it. 

“The tomatoes?” he said. 

“Tomatoes,” Leo parroted. “They’re hard outside and squishy inside. He doesn’t like things like that. And they touched everything else so all of it is no good now!”

Never having considered that texture, of all things, could be the issue—and kicking himself for it—Splinter scrambled a fresh pair of eggs for his stubborn little softshell. He skipped the cherry tomatoes, and sliced a bell pepper instead that he made sure to put on the opposite side of the portioned plastic plate. 

Donnie sniffed his fresh plate of plain eggs suspiciously, but it passed his inspection. He crunched into a piece of bell pepper so eagerly that he must have been hungry. Splinter sank back in his chair with an exhale that left him feeling like a deflated balloon. 

Leo, eating the discarded tomatoes out of Donnie’s original breakfast, giggled at him. He was the first of Splinter’s babies to start speaking, and the sound of his bright voice tripping eagerly over clumsy human words rarely failed to coax a smile out of his father. 

“Thank you, baby,” he said, poking Leo on the edge of his beak and earning himself another peal of bubbly laughter. “I’m glad one of us speaks Purple’s language or I might have set us up for failure big-time.”

“‘Course I do! ‘Cause we’re twins!” Leo said, with only half an idea what the word meant, but happy for any reason to be one of a pair with his best friend. Donnie knew very well what the word meant and simply nodded along, because he was happy, too. 

Now that they’re older, and Donatello no longer needs a translator, he finds himself returning the favor instead. Leo is far from nonverbal—Leo talks too much—but he hardly ever actually says anything. He can pontificate and harangue and lecture to lengths of absolute absurdity without giving a single word of substance away that he doesn’t want to give away. 

Donnie can read him like a book. Like one of his favorite books that he doesn’t actually have to read, because he knows every page by heart. 

The summer after the world didn’t end, Donnie’s twin becomes someone unfamiliar. 

He’s self destructive in ways that aren’t immediately obvious. He seeks out things that scare him, lingering above the death drop an extra second even though he’s been afraid of heights since he was fourteen. 

It’s obvious that he’s trying to train himself out of weakness. No more childish fears, no more lazy Sunday mornings, no more silly Nardo. 

Raph and Mikey have clocked it, too, in their own ways. At first Raph was pleasantly surprised when Leo beat him to the dojo for training, ribbing him amicably when he was also the last to leave. But then Leo started turning down Mario Kart tournaments and ninja tag in favor of shutting himself away and working working working to correct an internal ugliness that just doesn’t exist. Mikey’s used to being the exception to every rule, used to arms opening for him wherever he goes, and the way his sweet, sunny smile slips every time Leo talks around joining him on the sofa for Kitchen Nightmares reruns—or explains away why he’s skipping dinner—is one of the worst things Donnie’s ever seen. 

At the very least, Leonardo doesn’t lie to Donatello’s face. He’s stopped looking him in the eye altogether. 

You’re not going anywhere without me, Donnie thinks at him, ready to dig in his heels and fight like hell. 

It’s hard to say how long it would have gone on, but one late night Leo limps home from a solo patrol and Donnie is waiting for him, arms folded, tolerance for foolishness nonexistent. 

“What, are you tracking me?” Leo jokes half-heartedly. And then, when Donnie doesn’t blink, he adds, “Wait, actually?”

“Don’t waste my time with questions we both know the answer to,” Donnie says, and points Leo directly towards the medbay. Leo, who had been angled toward the bathroom instead, likely because he can close the door and suffer in private with no one the wiser, sighs loudly and course-corrects. 

The overhead lights in the medbay hum to life when Donnie flips the switches. Leo looks over his shoulder to gauge how far those lights have traveled past the open door, restless with wondering if he’s going to have to save face in front of someone else. 

All of this? All this behavior? Donnie hates this. 

Larger-than-life Leonardo seems smaller as he boosts himself up onto the edge of the bed. The infirmary is the one place he never puts on airs, the one place he takes seriously because his family’s health and safety has never once been a punchline to him. He peels off all his false layers at the door. He’s back to not meeting Donnie’s eyes. 

“Tell me where it hurts, and be specific,” Donatello says. 

“Your bedside manner could use some work,” Leonardo replies. His attempt at wily good humor limps along a lot like he had limped through the front door, like the least funny thing in the world. “That’s why between the two of us I’m the team medic.”

“And I’m two minutes from pulling the fire alarm and making this a house party,” Donnie says frankly. His tone isn’t gentle, isn’t quite angry. He’s somewhere in the middle, gentleness and anger fighting for the spot that affection has never once surrendered and never once will. 

He hates the way his twin’s eyes get wet, staring down at his own knees, knuckles stark white and standing out like a string of pearls where his hands are bunched in the thin blanket he’s sitting on. He hates that it’s come to this, the quiet of midnight in the medbay, one of the brightest lights in Donnie’s life dimmed and miserable and so clearly struggling. It’s laughable that Leo really thought he could have hidden it forever. 

Donnie sits beside him on the bed and says, “What if I quit?”

The non-sequitur takes Leo by surprise. He was clearly expecting a full frontal assault and glances sideways at Donnie briefly. 

“Quit what?”

“My bad, I should have been more specific,” Donnie allows. “I meant, what if I quit being a ninja? I have better things I could be doing, and I don’t like getting hurt.” Leo is staring at him fully now, totally bewildered. Flabbergasted, even. It melts some of the sternness Donnie has been careful to shore up for this conversation. “Would you love me less?” he asks. 

It would have been kinder if Donnie had slapped him. “Don’t say that,” Leo says, barely any air behind it. 

“Are you more capable than I am?” Donnie steamrolls on. “Are you better than me?”

“Of course not. I don’t think—I didn’t say—”

“Then why do you have to be perfect if I don’t?” Donnie presses the advantage ruthlessly. “Why aren’t you allowed to struggle and doubt and spectacularly fuck up every now and then without raking yourself over the coals for it?” 

Leo glances over at the door automatically, like Raph is going to be summoned by the bad word. He’s sixteen, he’s just sixteen, Donnie wants to scream it loud enough that those resistance fighters in Casey’s future could hear him, the ones who thought it was a halfway decent idea to put a child in charge. 

Earlier Donnie thought that Leo looked smaller here. Now he thinks he can tell by looking how much weight his twin has lost since June. There’s a deficit of Leonardo in this world and his whole family is feeling it keenly. 

Raph wants to scoop Leo off the sofa when he stays up too late and tuck him into bed, wants to listen to Leo filling the comms with chatter on those nights when patrol stretches long and dull. Raph misses his little brother, the gossipy, gangly, growing up little turtle that Raph used to be allowed to carry everywhere.

Mikey wants to bicker over who gets to play Sonic in Smash Bros and eat cookies while they’re still hot from the oven with the person he admires so much, who taught him all the best cheats in Smash Bros and that fresh sugar cookies in the falling apart stage, pre-icing, are better than ones that have cooled. 

‘Sometimes you gotta get burned to get results,’ ten-year-old Leo had announced, but he was always the one who lifted the cookies off the sheet pan, he never let Mikey burn his fingers.  

That goofy, clever kid who was always getting them all into trouble and talking their way out of it again is worth a thousand made-up Master Leonardos. 

Leo keeps his face lowered, shoulders hunched, because he knows what he’ll see if he scrapes together the courage to meet Donnie’s gaze. He’ll see the love blazing in his twin’s face like one of those digital billboards towering above Times Square, and somehow he’s convinced himself he doesn’t deserve it. 

Donnie doesn’t give a damn what Leo has decided he deserves. Donnie’s going to love him anyway, on purpose, whether he likes it or not. If Leo wants to grow up so badly, then he can stop acting like a kid pushing vegetables around on his plate and swallow the truth. 

It’s okay if he doesn’t grow up yet. They can be kids awhile longer. It’ll be like when they were babies, when Donatello would rather go hungry than stomach certain foods. Leo never let Donnie sit alone at the breakfast table, keeping him cheerful, babbling company, even when their brothers had moved off to play. 

This time Leo is the picky eater, willing to go hungry and sit alone at the table. But Donnie learned from the best. He's returning the favor.

Donnie isn’t going anywhere without Leo, either.

[anticipatedexhale]

Can you do the arcane characters with a s/o who is obsessed with their looks and how they’re perceived to others?

Hellooo <3 ofc I can!!

Just a disclaimer u are absolutely gorgeous and wonderful just the way you are! Inside and out! Don't let fake standards and false words put by society get to you please, love yourself just the way u are because although it's the hardest type of love to achieve it's also the most fulfilling<33

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Wish I could be like you, but I’m not that cool.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧୨୧

♡ ◞ includes: caitlyn, ekko, jayce, jinx, mel, viktor, vi, sevika

☆ ◞ summary: when you care too much it starts to backfire on you, when you think you lost everything they are right beside you.

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader, tons of bad talk about ones body and self, insecurities that may be triggering you some so please be careful while reading.

Jayce Talis.

Jayce had always been confident—he knew who he was, what he stood for, and never really cared much about what others thought of him. So when he started noticing how much you worried about your looks and how people perceived you, it caught him off guard.

At first, he thought it was just normal self-care. Everyone liked to look good, right? But then he started picking up on the little things.

The way you’d constantly check your reflection in any shiny surface you passed. The way you’d subtly adjust your outfit over and over, as if trying to perfect it. How you’d bite your lip and glance around nervously when someone so much as whispered near you, convinced it was about you.

And when you two were out together? Forget about it. You agonized over every detail—your hair, your posture, your expressions. Always making sure you were just right.

Jayce hated seeing you stress over it.

One evening, you were getting ready for an event, adjusting your outfit for what felt like the fiftieth time, inspecting yourself in the mirror with a deep frown.

"Does this look okay?" you asked for the third time in ten minutes. "Maybe I should change. Do you think people will—"

Jayce sighed and gently grabbed your hands, pulling you away from the mirror.

“Babe,” he said softly, his brows furrowed in concern. “Why does it matter so much what other people think?”

You hesitated, looking down. “I just… I don’t want to embarrass you. Or myself. People talk, Jayce.”

His expression softened. “I don’t give a damn what people say. And you shouldn’t either.”

You sighed, but he wasn’t done. He cupped your face, tilting it up so you had to look at him.

“You’re already perfect,” he murmured. “I don’t care what you’re wearing, how your hair looks, or what people think. They don’t see what I see.”

You swallowed, throat tight. “…And what do you see?”

His lips quirked into a small smile. “Someone incredible. Someone who makes me laugh, who makes me proud every damn day. Someone I’d still be crazy about even if you walked into that party wearing mismatched shoes and a potato sack.”

You let out a startled laugh, rolling your eyes. “A potato sack?”

He grinned, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Yep. You’d still be the best-looking person in the room.”

You sighed, leaning into his touch. “…You really don’t care?”

“Not one bit,” he promised. “I just want you to be happy. Not stressing over what a bunch of nobodies think.”

His words hit deep. And for the first time in a long time, you actually believed them.

Maybe—just maybe—you didn’t need everyone else’s approval.

Maybe Jayce’s was enough.

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Mel Medarda.

Mel had always been surrounded by high society, where appearances were more than just about beauty—they were about power, influence, and command. She’d been taught from a young age how to control the room with a well-placed smile, a confident stance, and the right attire. But while she had mastered the art of fitting into the expectations of others, she’d never let them control her.

When she first noticed your obsession with your appearance—how you would fret over the smallest detail, constantly worry about what others thought, and always seek validation from the people around you—she didn’t rush to correct you. Instead, she observed, trying to understand why it mattered so much to you.

One evening, you were preparing for another event, this time a gala held by Piltover’s elite. You stood in front of the mirror, your eyes darting between your reflection and the wardrobe full of options, your fingers pulling at your hair, your expression one of deep dissatisfaction.

“Mel,” you said, voice tinged with frustration. “I don’t think I’m ready for this. I’m just not—”

She stepped into the room with the effortless grace she was known for, her gaze soft yet intense as she approached you. “You’re just not what?” she asked, her voice calm but laced with concern.

“I don’t know… I feel like I don’t belong here,” you confessed, your hands wringing together. “I keep thinking about what people will say when they see me. What if they don’t think I’m… enough?”

Mel’s brow furrowed as she gently placed her hands on your shoulders, turning you to face her fully. “Let me ask you something,” she began, her tone serious but tender. “Why do you care so much about what they think?”

You looked down, not quite able to meet her eyes. “Because if I don’t look a certain way, if I’m not perfect, I feel like I won’t matter.”

Mel took a deep breath, stepping closer to you, her hands gently lifting your chin so you had no choice but to look at her. Her gaze softened as she studied you for a moment, her fingers brushing the side of your face.

“Sweetheart,” she began, her voice quiet but steady. “You are already more than enough. I’ve seen you, not just with your looks, but with your heart, your intelligence, your strength.” She smiled softly. “You think people are only judging you based on how you look, but the truth is, they want to see you. They want to know you—the person who carries themselves with such grace and confidence, the one who makes them wonder how they missed such brilliance.”

You felt a lump form in your throat as her words sank in.

“I’ve spent so much of my life trying to fit into others' expectations. To be what people wanted me to be,” Mel continued, her eyes locking with yours, unwavering. “But I realized that I will never be happy that way. And neither will you. So stop letting your worth be defined by others. You have everything you need inside of you already.”

You blinked, the warmth of her words washing over you. “But… I still feel like I’m not enough sometimes.”

Mel gently cupped your face, leaning in until her forehead rested against yours. “Then let me remind you every day how much you mean to me. You’re perfect just as you are.”

You swallowed, a smile tugging at your lips. “I think I’m starting to believe you.”

With a soft chuckle, Mel pulled back slightly. “Good. Now let’s go out there, and when they look at you, let them see the amazing person I see.”

And as she helped you get dressed, there was a quiet understanding between you two. Mel never pressured you to be anyone else, but she also knew how to help you realize that you had more power than you gave yourself credit for.

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Viktor.

Viktor’s perspective on beauty had always been one of deep pragmatism. His entire life had been about improving, evolving, and focusing on the mind’s capacity to achieve, while the world outside often seemed obsessed with superficial qualities. He’d never cared much for what others thought of him or how he looked. But when it came to you, it was different.

He’d noticed, more and more, how often you seemed preoccupied with your appearance. You would spend hours before a mirror, adjusting your clothes or making sure every strand of hair was in place, always worried about what others might think. Sometimes, even after all the effort, there was a quiet dissatisfaction in your expression, and it made him wonder how much you truly believed in yourself.

One evening, after a long day of work, Viktor arrived home to find you sitting on the couch, still in your outfit from earlier. Your gaze was fixed on your phone screen, scrolling through images of other people’s lives, comparing your appearance to theirs. Your posture was tense, your brows furrowed in frustration.

Viktor quietly approached, his voice soft yet steady as he spoke your name. “You’re still awake? What’s going on, love?”

You glanced up, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Just thinking. About how everyone seems to have it all figured out. How they look perfect, and I’m… well, I don’t know.” You trailed off, your gaze dropping back to your phone.

Viktor, noticing the sharp contrast between your usual confident self and the person sitting before him, knelt beside the couch, taking your hand gently in his. His tone was patient, understanding, but there was a certain firmness that made you look up at him.

“Your worth has never been determined by someone else’s perception of you,” he said, his voice quiet but intense. “You’ve spent so much time trying to please others, trying to fit a mold you never asked for. But I need you to understand something, love…”

You looked at him, unsure, waiting for him to continue.

“You are far more than just the sum of your physical appearance or the validation of others,” Viktor continued, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You are a person of substance, of intellect, of heart. And that’s what I fell in love with. Not the way you look, but who you are.”

You swallowed, feeling a lump in your throat. Viktor’s gaze softened as he reached for your hand, gently lifting it to his lips. “And you don’t need to change for anyone. Not for me, not for anyone.”

There was silence between you, broken only by the soft hum of the city outside. His words settled in your chest, easing the tension that had built up over the past few hours.

“I just feel like I’m constantly chasing something I can never achieve,” you admitted quietly. “Trying to be perfect, trying to be what everyone else expects.”

Viktor’s eyes darkened with concern, but he smiled gently. “What if I told you that the most perfect version of yourself is already here? Right now, in this moment? That you are more than enough, as you are?”

His words were simple, but they carried the weight of years of wisdom, of someone who had seen the world through a lens of endless improvement. Slowly, you found yourself leaning into him, feeling the comfort of his embrace and the security of his steady presence.

“I’m still learning, Viktor,” you whispered, your head resting against his chest. “Learning to accept myself.”

“And I’ll be here,” he murmured, his voice warm and unwavering. “Every step of the way. To remind you that you’re perfect, not because of how you look, but because of who you are.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of his words sink deep into your soul. In that moment, with Viktor by your side, you realized that the person you needed to please the most was yourself. And with him, you finally understood that your worth was never tied to anyone’s expectations—but rather, to the person you were, inside and out.

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Caitlyn kiramman.

Caitlyn was never one to place much value on appearances. Sure, she knew the importance of looking presentable, especially in her position, but she also understood that true beauty went beyond what the eye could see. For Caitlyn, what truly mattered were values, intellect, and integrity. But when she noticed you often fretting over your appearance, constantly adjusting your outfit, and seeking validation from others, it tugged at her heart. She could tell you weren’t feeling your best, but didn’t know how to reach you—until one quiet evening.

After a long day at work, Caitlyn came home to find you in front of the mirror once again, changing clothes, adjusting your makeup, and constantly re-evaluating your reflection. She leaned in the doorway for a moment, watching you with a concerned expression.

You didn’t even notice her at first, your mind lost in the whirlwind of doubts that always seemed to surface when you weren’t in her company. “I don’t know, Cait. What if I’m not enough?” you muttered under your breath, pulling at the collar of your shirt as if it could make you feel better. “What if they don’t think I’m… beautiful enough?”

Caitlyn stepped into the room quietly, her voice gentle but firm. “Why do you think that?”

You jumped, not expecting her to be standing so close. “Oh… I didn’t hear you.” You gave a weak smile, clearly still upset.

“Babe, what’s going on? You’ve been like this for a while now,” she said softly, her eyes meeting yours. She stepped closer and reached for your hand, her touch warm and reassuring. “What are you looking for?”

You hesitated, glancing at your reflection before turning to face her. “I just… I feel like people judge me all the time. What if they don’t like how I look? What if I’m too much for them? Or not enough?”

Caitlyn’s expression softened with a mix of empathy and concern. She could feel how deeply you were struggling, and though she didn’t share your worries about appearances, she understood the burden of those feelings. She gently cupped your face in her hands, tilting your chin so your eyes met hers.

“Look at me,” she said, her voice low but confident. “You are enough. Right now, in this moment, you’re more than enough.”

You blinked, her words striking a chord deep inside. “But what if people think I’m…”

She cut you off gently. “You are beautiful, but more than that, you’re incredible. You make a difference. You’re kind, intelligent, and strong. No outfit or hairstyle is going to change that.”

You felt a lump form in your throat as her words began to sink in. “But what if I’m not… what people expect?”

Caitlyn smiled, her hands gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You don’t need to live up to anyone’s expectations but your own. I fell in love with you for who you are, not because of how you look. And I’ve never been more proud of you than I am right now, just by being yourself.”

Her sincerity made your heart swell, and despite your lingering doubts, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. Caitlyn didn’t care about the opinions of others; she cared about you—and that was all that mattered.

“I guess I’ve been so focused on trying to be perfect that I forgot how to just be me,” you admitted softly.

Caitlyn chuckled, her thumbs gently rubbing circles on your cheeks. “And I’ll remind you every day that you don’t need to be perfect for anyone. You’re perfect for me.”

You leaned into her touch, a sense of comfort settling in your chest. “Thank you, Cait. I really needed to hear that.”

She smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Anytime. And just so you know, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, inside and out. You don’t have to change a thing.”

In that moment, you realized that your true beauty didn’t lie in how others saw you, but in how Caitlyn saw you—and how you saw yourself when you let go of the expectations that had once held you back.

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

Vi.

Vi had always been more about strength and character than appearances. She had a no-nonsense attitude and didn’t care much for superficial things. Whether in a fight or just hanging out, she preferred to focus on what truly mattered—what was inside a person. So when she noticed you obsessing over how you looked, constantly tweaking your outfit or worrying about how others perceived you, it threw her off. She couldn’t quite understand why you’d feel like you weren’t enough when to her, you were already perfect just as you were.

One evening, after a particularly tough day, Vi returned home to find you sitting on the couch, eyes glued to your phone, flipping through social media. You’d been quiet all evening, and she could tell something was bothering you. As she approached, she noticed you adjusting your outfit for the fourth time, pulling at the hem of your shirt, checking the mirror again.

Vi raised an eyebrow, concern flashing across her face. “You good, babe? You seem a little… distracted.”

You didn’t look up, still preoccupied with your reflection. “I don’t know. I just feel like people always judge me. I mean, look at them, Vi,” you said, showing her your phone screen, where a bunch of influencers and well-dressed people filled the screen. “Why can’t I look like that? I don’t know… I just feel like I’m never enough, no matter what I do.”

Vi looked at the screen for a moment before setting it down gently, stepping closer to you. “Hey, look at me,” she said, her voice a little more serious now. “I don’t get it. You’ve got all this beauty inside and out, and you’re worried about some picture on a screen?”

You gave a little laugh, but it was hollow. “It’s not just a picture, Vi. People always notice what I wear, what I look like. I feel like I’m always trying to fit into something I’m not.”

Vi tilted your chin up, meeting your eyes with that intense, protective gaze of hers. “You don’t need to fit into any mold, babe. You’re not some... trend to follow. You’re you. And trust me, that’s more than enough.”

You looked away, unsure. "But people don't see that. They only care about the surface."

Vi sighed, her expression softening as she sat next to you. She took your hand in hers, her grip strong but comforting. "You know what I see when I look at you? I see a person who's been through a lot, someone who doesn't need to put on a mask to be loved. Someone who's real. And that's what makes you so amazing. I don't give a damn about what anyone else thinks. And I know you don't need to change for anyone."

You let out a breath, trying to hold back the feelings bubbling up inside. Vi, with her blunt honesty and genuine affection, had a way of cutting through the noise, and for the first time in a while, you felt like maybe you weren’t as lost as you thought.

Vi leaned in, resting her forehead against yours. “You know I love you for exactly who you are, right? And if you’re worried about how others see you, then maybe you should let them see the real you. Because that’s who I love. The real you. Not some version of you trying to impress everyone else.”

You could feel her words sinking in, easing the pressure you hadn’t even realized had been building. You felt a sense of calm begin to wash over you as Vi’s embrace tightened, holding you close.

"I know I'm tough and rough around the edges," she whispered, a playful smile tugging at her lips, "but you don’t need to be anything other than what makes you happy. And if that means wearing your favorite old shirt or going makeup-free, I’m still gonna think you’re the best thing in the world."

A small laugh escaped your lips, and you found yourself relaxing into her warmth. “Thanks, Vi. I needed that.”

Vi grinned, kissing the top of your head. “Anytime, babe. Just remember: you’re perfect to me, just the way you are.”

In that moment, surrounded by her love and honesty, you realized that the only opinion that truly mattered was the one that came from within—and with Vi, you were finally starting to believe it.

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

Jinx.

Jinx was many things—chaotic, unpredictable, and loud—but when it came to you, she was surprisingly sensitive. Her world had always been in a constant state of madness, but there was something calming about being with you. You were her rock, her one constant in the storm. That’s why it bothered her so much when she noticed you obsessing over how you looked, always fidgeting with your clothes, your hair, or your makeup, constantly worried about how others saw you.

One evening, after a particularly wild day of mayhem (courtesy of Jinx, of course), you sat on the couch, staring at your phone screen. Your brows were furrowed, your thumb scrolling through social media, comparing yourself to others. Jinx had been watching you for a while, and it was starting to get under her skin.

"Hey, you!" she suddenly called out, practically throwing herself onto the couch next to you, her usual enthusiasm filling the room.

You jumped a little, distracted. “Oh, hey, Jinx. What’s up?” You didn’t look up from your phone, still fixated on the images that seemed to be making you feel worse with every swipe.

Jinx tilted her head, studying your face closely. Her blue hair bounced as she moved, and her expression softened just a little. “You’ve been like this for a while now,” she said, a hint of concern lacing her voice. “Why do you keep looking at that stuff?”

You sighed, showing her your phone. “I don’t know. I just feel like I’m always trying to keep up with everyone else, you know? They always look so… perfect. I feel like I don’t measure up.”

Jinx blinked, her usual manic energy quieting for a moment as she processed your words. "What do you mean, perfect?" she asked, her voice almost childlike in its confusion. “Perfect’s boring, though! I mean, sure, it’s fun to be perfectly insane, but... you’re way cooler than perfect! Who needs to be that?”

You looked at her, a little unsure. “I just… I don’t know, Jinx. I feel like I’m always trying to be someone I’m not, trying to look like everyone else. But nothing ever feels good enough.”

Jinx leaned back dramatically, her arms spread wide. “You wanna know something? I don’t think you need to look like anyone else, ever!” she said, her eyes wide and full of her usual chaotic energy. “You’re already amazing the way you are, and I don’t get why you keep looking at that stuff. I mean, look at me—no one can look like me and that’s what makes me awesome! So you just need to be you, okay?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at her randomness, even as a weight still sat heavy in your chest. Jinx smiled brightly, completely oblivious to the way her words were beginning to work their magic. “I know you think you gotta be something you’re not, but I love you just as you are. You’re like… the best thing ever! You don’t need to change anything to impress anyone, especially not me.”

She leaned forward then, her hands clasping yours tightly. Her wild eyes softened as she looked at you with an intensity that was rare for her. “I love you, okay? You—with all the stuff you think isn’t perfect. I don’t need a perfect you. I need you, the one with all the quirks and the weird little things that make you you!”

You blinked, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at her words. Jinx had a way of making things seem so much lighter, her chaotic nature always breaking through the heaviness of your own doubts. Her laugh was like music, and the more she spoke, the more you felt the pressure you had been putting on yourself start to lift.

“Jinx,” you whispered, squeezing her hand. “Thank you. I think I just needed to hear it from you. I’ve been so focused on trying to change, I forgot what made me… me.”

“Exactly!” Jinx exclaimed, throwing her hands up like she had just made the greatest revelation in the world. “Just be you, and if anyone else doesn’t get it, then they’re the ones who are messed up! You’re freaking awesome, and I’m lucky to have you.”

She pulled you into a tight hug, her arms wrapping around you with surprising gentleness. "Don’t ever try to be anything other than you again, okay?" she whispered into your ear. “I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

You rested your head on her shoulder, feeling a sense of comfort in the chaos that only Jinx could provide. With her by your side, maybe, just maybe, you could start to let go of the expectations that others had placed on you—and just embrace the person you were.

And with that, Jinx’s chaotic energy became the balm you didn’t know you needed, reminding you that in this world of uncertainty, the most important thing was being true to yourself.

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

Ekko.

Ekko had always been a little different. The way he saw the world wasn’t about appearances or surface-level stuff—it was about people, their hearts, and their actions. It wasn’t lost on him that you seemed to care a lot about how others perceived you, constantly stressing over what to wear, how to look, or whether you were keeping up with the trends. At first, he didn’t really understand it. Why would you care what other people thought when you were already so incredible in his eyes?

One evening, after working on his latest invention in the workshop, Ekko was looking forward to spending some quiet time with you. He’d been busy with the repairs and inventions for the underground, but when he finally entered the room, he immediately noticed something different about you. You were sitting on the couch, flipping through a magazine, occasionally staring at the mirror, then back at the pages. The quiet tension in the air told him something was off.

He walked up to you and gently sat down next to you. "You okay?" he asked, his voice softer than usual. "You seem… distracted."

You looked up, surprised to see him. You hadn’t realized you were being so obvious about your self-doubt. "Oh, I’m fine," you lied, trying to smile. "Just… you know, trying to figure out what to wear tomorrow. Something that’ll make me look good enough for the crowd, y’know?"

Ekko frowned slightly. He could see the uncertainty in your eyes, the way your fingers were nervously flipping through pages. He didn’t need to be a genius to see that something was bothering you.

He leaned back against the couch, giving you a moment to breathe before speaking up again. “What crowd? I thought you were more about being yourself, not some image you’ve got to keep up with.”

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah, well… sometimes it’s hard. I mean, look at everyone else, Ekko. They’re all perfect—well-dressed, confident, always looking like they’ve got it all figured out. I just… I don’t know. I want to feel good about myself, but it feels like I’m always falling short.”

Ekko let out a small sigh. He had seen you struggle with this before, but hearing it out loud always tugged at his heart. He knew what it was like to feel like you didn’t measure up, especially in a world that made it easy to compare yourself to everyone around you. But to him, you were already more than enough.

"You don’t need to be like anyone else, you know that, right?" Ekko said, his voice calm yet serious. "I get it, everyone around here seems to care about appearances or ‘keeping up with the Joneses,’ but that’s not what makes someone special. You’re already incredible. The real you—not some idealized version of yourself—is what I love."

He took your hand, gently guiding you to face him. "It’s not about looking like someone else. It’s about being you. And when you’re you, that’s when you shine the brightest. You’re unique, and that’s what makes you stand out. Not some perfect look or what other people think."

You felt a lump form in your throat, his words piercing through the insecurities that had been building inside. Ekko was always so patient with you, always grounding you when the chaos of the world started to feel too heavy. His belief in you, in who you were as a person, was unwavering.

"Ekko, I’m just so used to trying to fit in," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "It feels like everyone expects me to be perfect, to look a certain way."

Ekko shook his head, his hand moving to brush your hair behind your ear, his touch gentle and tender. "You don’t need to fit into anyone’s box. You fit into mine, and that’s all that matters. You’ve got something they don’t—your heart, your mind, your creativity. You’ve always had it, and I see it every single day."

He stood up, giving you a playful grin. "You know what’s really cool about you? You can pull off anything—whether it’s a fancy outfit or a worn-out hoodie. You make it look good because it’s you. And honestly, that’s way more impressive than anything I’ve ever seen."

You couldn’t help but laugh, a little of the weight lifting off your shoulders as you finally met his eyes. “You really think that?”

Ekko nodded, his eyes full of sincerity. "More than anything. I’m proud of you, just the way you are. You don’t need anyone’s approval, especially not when you’ve already got mine."

You stood up to face him, feeling the warmth of his words sink in. There was no need to change for the world. You had Ekko, and that was more than enough to make you feel seen and loved.

"I love you, you know that?" you whispered.

Ekko grinned, his eyes lighting up as he pulled you into a hug. "I love you too, more than you’ll ever know."

In his arms, you felt safe—safe to be yourself, flaws and all. Maybe it wasn’t about perfection after all. Maybe it was about finding the people who truly saw you, the real you, and loving you for exactly who you were.

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

Sevika.

The quiet buzz of the dimly lit workshop was disrupted by a small, sudden sigh. Sevika paused, her fingers lightly gripping the wrench she was working with as she looked over at you. You were at the far corner of the room, your attention focused on the full-length mirror. Your gaze was distant, eyes scanning every inch of yourself, your expression more tense than usual.

She could see the way your shoulders tensed, the slight frown on your lips, and she knew that look all too well. It was the look of someone caught in the trap of self-doubt, obsessing over things that didn't truly matter. Sevika, who always carried herself with quiet confidence, couldn't help but notice how much you seemed to care about things that didn’t define your worth—things like appearance, status, and the opinions of others.

Without saying a word, Sevika set her tools down and walked toward you, her large frame cutting through the space with the same assured steps she always had. There was something about your current mood that tugged at her, an instinct to take care of you when she saw you struggling.

She came up behind you, leaning her back against the wall and crossing her arms, just watching. There was no rush to intervene. Sevika had learned that sometimes, you needed time to process things on your own before anyone could help.

After a moment, you spoke without turning to face her. "Do you think they’d like me more if I looked different? I mean… everyone seems to have something special about them. What if I’m just… not good enough?"

The words hung in the air, fragile and raw. Sevika stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. "Hey," she said, her hand resting on your shoulder, urging you to meet her eyes. "You’re not ‘just’ anything. And you’re not here to be ‘liked’ by anyone else but yourself."

You swallowed, still unable to fully meet her gaze. "I don’t know, Sevika. I just—sometimes it feels like no matter what I do, I can’t live up to… to what they expect, to what everyone else has. I don’t know how to be comfortable with myself."

Sevika’s eyes softened, her hand gently turning your chin so that you finally faced her. "You don’t need to worry about them. You don’t need to worry about being perfect, because there’s no such thing. No one is perfect—not even the ones who pretend they are."

Her voice was steady, filled with that unwavering confidence that made her so impossible to ignore. "You’re one of the strongest people I know, and that’s not something that comes from looking a certain way. It comes from what you’ve been through, how you keep going despite everything. That’s what I admire about you. Not how you look, but the person you are."

Your breath caught, the frustration in your chest softening with her words. For a moment, you let yourself believe her, feeling the weight of your insecurities ease just a little.

"I think you forget sometimes that people who truly care about you… the ones who matter, don’t give a damn about your looks," Sevika continued, her thumb lightly tracing your cheek, her touch gentle yet powerful. "You think I’m here because you’ve got the perfect image? Nah. I’m here because you’ve got heart. You’ve always had it."

A rare, soft smile tugged at her lips as she leaned in slightly, her voice lowering to a near whisper. "And you think I’d let someone like you get away with being anything less than amazing?"

You chuckled softly, the tension melting away at the sincerity in her words. Sevika’s tough exterior had always been there, but in moments like this, she allowed her softer side to show, especially when it came to you. You could see in her eyes that she didn’t just mean what she was saying—she believed it wholeheartedly.

"Sevika, I—"

She cut you off, her finger lightly tapping your lips. "No more self-doubt. No more comparisons. You’re incredible. Just as you are."

For once, the mirror didn’t seem so important. It wasn’t about how others saw you, but how you saw yourself through her eyes. Sevika may not always say a lot, but in moments like this, her actions spoke volumes. You let yourself lean into her touch, the assurance in her presence becoming your anchor.

She leaned in close, her voice softer now, just for you. "Now, let’s forget about everyone else for a while, yeah? Tonight’s about you, about us. You don’t need to impress anyone but yourself."

And as you let her embrace you, a weight lifted, one you hadn’t even realized you were carrying.

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

Authors note: I really do apologize if this isn't to ur liking my darling or it feels repetitive I just really could not come up with different scenarios dear God I was about to crash out..

[may-stuff]

a friend in need. - fc43

summary: you've been best friends for almost your entire lives. who is he to deny you some help when you need it the most?

warnings: afab!reader, masturbation, oral sex (m), dirty talking, unprotected sex, creampie || typos and grammatical mistakes because english is not my first language and I'm a little stupid. also, this isn't great in any way so please don't be mean, thank u.

word count: 6.6k approx.

a/n: please please please, if you read this and you like it at least a little bit, please interact with it. If I don't get notifications I die 🥀

In the loneliness of your bedroom, you can't help but let your mind wander. Surrounded by shadows that seem to whisper his name in your ears, you get engulfed in the reminisce of him and almost every moment you've shared together. 

Behind your closed eyes you can see his beautiful face, his hair that smells so good, his hands and those long fingers that have touched you in a friendly way countless times before but tonight, tonight you remember those interactions from another perspective, in a new light. 

Not everything is about his physique, though. The brightness of his smile that could light up an entire room, his laugh and the sound of his voice- everything about him is perfect, even the imperfections. You also think of his moody, short answers in the morning when he's still sleepy; you think of his frown and the look in his eyes when he's angry for something or at someone, and even that seems like undeniable proof of a kind of beauty you've never seen before in anyone else. 

Your feelings for him, you realise now, go beyond everything; but tonight, in the quiet of your own room and with the knowledge that you'll never be more than his dear, best friend, you decide that setting your imagination free won't hurt anybody. He doesn't have to know, you don't even have to say his name out loud. 

Only in your mind. His name echoes in every part of your conscience as you imagine. You imagine him in situations that you're sure you'll never see him in. You imagine him kissing you, both softly and then roughly, as if he were trying to consume all of you. Your mind shows him on top of you, his clothes gone, his lips on your skin and your name coming out of them in a plea. 

The visions in your head are so clear that soon your own hands are exploring your body. First, they travel up and down all through your abdomen, making you feel goosebumps at the thought of how good this would feel if it only were his hands on your skin. When you reach your breasts and cup them in your hands under your shirt, you can't help but to moan softly, even more when your fingers pinch your nipples that, in result, become impossibly hard in a matter of seconds. With the image of his beautiful lips wrapping around your hardened peaks, painting them with his own saliva, you feel that familiar pressure in your lower abdomen. That sensation that comes with the arousal that becomes physical and pools in the deepest parts of you, coating your underwear more and more with each second that passes and he's still in your mind, touching you, making you feel better than any man has ever done before. 

In the complexity of the mind, a deep feeling of guilt presses onto your chest. You know this is wrong, you know this isn't what you should do when you think of your dearest friend, but you can't help it. You can't avoid the feelings and the images in your mind. It's like a film that won't stop playing over and over; it's a bunch of images of him on top of you, inside of you, whispering the filthiest things right in your ear. It's him telling you how divine you feel around him, how much he loves being buried deep inside of you. It's his voice moaning and grunting, face hidden in the curve between your neck and your shoulder. 

It's your hands caressing his back and your nails digging into his flesh every time he moves inside you, the lewd sounds of his cock sliding into your hungry pussy filling the room and, in response, making you more needy. 

In the real world, your left hand has already reached your underwear. Your fingers come in contact with the wet spot right above your slit and you moan softly to the knowledge that you've become this wet only because he is in your mind. And as the guilt hits you once again, trying to drift your mind away from the pleasure that the thought of him gives you, you decide to go against it. 

He will never know about this. 

That thought is decisive. Your shirt and underwear are gone in a matter of seconds, and when you feel the soft air coming in from the window and touching your skin, you shiver. You wish he would be here, his natural warmth engulfing your body and soul, making the sadness and loneliness go away. But you're alone in your empty house- and even if he were here, he wouldn't be where you want him to be. 

With the crude reality put in the back of your mind, your fingers finally travel down to where you need attention the most. Feeling your own dampness, you let out a deep sigh. No one has ever made you this wet, not even yourself. All of this is thanks to him, because of him. The fire in your veins, the need to feel pleasure, the need to cum, all of this intensity is due to him and his face engraved in your mind. 

That's why you can hear his voice so clearly in your head the moment one of your fingers finds its way inside of you. The familiar intrusion feels good but it's obviously not enough, so it isn't surprising that a second finger adds to the first in a matter of seconds and this time you feel fuller. You feel fuller and needier, because now you're realising that nothing will be actually enough, because what you need isn't a matter of size, it isn't a matter of how and how much; it's about him. It's all about him. 

About his face and his hands and his voice. About your own fingers trying to find the right pace as you can almost feel his lips on your skin. It's about you and the need to say his name even though you know that you shouldn't, because if you do, it'll become real. The shameful thought that you want your best friend in ways that you shouldn't, will become true if you say his name out loud. 

But you can't help it. Your fingers inside of you feel good enough to make you whimper and mutter words that don't make sense. They're enough to fuel the images in your mind and you can't take it anymore. So, against your will, his name leaves your lips and you feel some sort of relief with it, because now your needs have claimed his name as their own. Your lust has a name now, and you can't stop saying it. 

“Franco.” 

It comes out in a soft plea at first, loud enough so only you can hear it. But it doesn't take much time or effort for you to continue further, saying it louder and louder each time your fingers enter your cunt again. Soon the room is filled with your pleas and cries that almost sound like you're in pain, because in a way you are, but his name falling from your lips over and over are enough to cover them up. Or at least that's what you think. 

You would have heard the front door opening and closing if you were paying more attention to your surroundings. You would have heard the voice calling your name once, twice a second later and then the steps getting closer to your room. You would have had time to cover yourself and come up with an excuse if you weren't so lost in your own mind and body. That's why the only thing that brings you back to the present, to reality, is the light that bathes your face when your bedroom's door opens. 

Everything happens so fast that you're sure you won't be able to recall this memory in the near future. Or maybe you will, and it will haunt you for the rest of your life. 

Once your eyes get used to the light that has suddenly corrupted the darkness in your room, your heart starts beating fast with horror. 

He's standing there, at your door, and the expression on his face is quite difficult to decipher. At his complete mercy, you're fully naked, laying on your bed with your legs wide open and your hands on your cunt; one of them with fingers buried deep inside you while the other is resting a little bit higher, just above your clit. Your chest is rising up and down with the heavy breathing that the pure terror and shame have triggered. Eyes wide open, mouth agape, you're frozen in the spot, unable to say a word, unable to act. 

The tension in the room is cut when he says your name, and maybe you're imagining things, but his voice sounds strangled.

Then, after some seconds, he mutters it again, your name. This time you're sure he's shocked with the scene in front of him but not entirely disgusted. 

The fear and guilt that had taken over you vanish almost completely when you see the expression on his face. Your eyes have adapted to the shining light coming into the dark room, so now you can see him more clearly, and the strange glint in his eyes is enough to make you think that maybe, just maybe, something good can come out of this situation.

Franco's eyes are wide open for a few shocking seconds. Then, when his brain processes the image before him, they start roaming your body. Bright green eyes observe your chest, bare tits and hardened nipples that seem to get even harder under his gaze. The valley between your breasts is covered in sweat and, in a strange way, that makes them look even more appealing. Your stomach, then, is a zone that perhaps you feel a little concerned to show too much but his expression doesn't change at any stop his eyes make on your body. He admires every part with the same intensity, with the same look of bewilderment in that gorgeous face.

He lets out a soft, almost imperceptible groan when his eyes reach your lower stomach and your legs, long and thick. His mouth agape when, in a sudden movement full of boldness, you open them a little wider and let him see more. He's standing to your right, so he can't see all of you properly, but he can see enough and, by the expression on his face, he's loving every second.

The absence of a negative reaction on his part emboldens you to act. Your hands, as if they were separated entities from the rest of your body, resume the earlier activities. Two of your fingers find your clit at the same time your left hand grabs one of your breasts. A sigh leaves your lips at the sudden contact and the fact that Franco is watching your every move makes a wave of pleasure hit you hard. You're aware that you're starting to put on a pornographic show for your best friend and, honestly, you're enjoying it maybe too much.

This is the first time you've seen him so focused on something. All those times he told you he struggled with his own attention span, you should've known that being naked in front of him, touching yourself for him, would be all he'd need to keep quiet and focused. That's why you chuckle when your eyes find him again and you see that his gaze is still fixed in your body.

The sound, a mix of a giggle and a moan, make him look at your face.

"Franco." You moan his name for the hundredth time this evening and rejoice when you actually see him shiver at the sound of your voice. "Please, please help me." You whimper, your own fingers pumping in and out of you faster each time. Harder. "I need you."

He closes his eyes for a few seconds and you know that he's fighting against something, against the fact that, if he gives in, everything will change. You will be friends no longer, because friends don't do this, friends don't want each other in such a way. But you do, and both of you know it. You both also know that, if you act on your shared desire, then when the moment is over you'll probably be in a limbo, trying to figure out what comes next.

But Franco actually doesn't care about the after, he almost never thinks too much before he acts. He lives the moment. You know that and your knowledge gets reinforced when he opens his eyes again and walks towards you, closing the door behind him. In response your heart flutters with excitement. 

Your fingers leave you and go up to rest on your lower stomach when he reaches your side. He's standing at your right, and this time you realize that he's looking at you in the face, looking for your gaze. When your eyes finally meet again, you can read a question that is answered with a nod of your head. 

You want this. You want this so bad. 

Franco's left hand caresses your hair first. His long fingers intertwine in your locks and for a moment you close your eyes to enjoy the innocent touch that, in a different situation, would get you to sleep. But the grip becomes a bit firmer and now he's tugging on it so your head can move to the side again, that way you can meet his eyes. As his hand leaves your head and travels to your soft cheek and then your lips, you don't stop looking at each other. 

A gasp leaves your throat when his thumb sits on your lower lip, and then he puts it inside your mouth, gently enough to give you time so you can reject him if you want. But you don't, you would never.

Soft lips wrap around his finger. Franco's reaction to the feeling of your tongue against the pad of his thumb in an almost imperceptible moan. The sound is low, coming out from the centre of his chest through gritted teeth, and it is the first time in the night that you feel some sort of pride fluttering inside you. The simple fact that he's reacting like this to the first physical contact with you is enough to make you act even bolder than before, and you keep sucking on his finger while looking him in the eyes. 

Franco smiles almost tenderly before the tone of his voice becomes twisted. 

“Who would've thought…” he mutters, still looking at you. “That you were such a desperate slut, huh?”

The sound you make in response to his words is almost inhuman. You're desperate and he can hear it in the tone of your moans, that are still muffled by his finger inside your mouth. 

“All these years…” he continues, voice feeling like velvet on your heated skin. “You were always such a good girl. Always the one to behave properly, wise beyond her years, or at least that's what all of them said, your family and mine… What would they think of you, (y/n)?” Franco asks, the mocking tone coming back. You squirm on the bed as you take his finger deeper and hollow your cheeks, imagining his cock in its place. 

“What would they think of you, (y/n)?” He presses on. This time, you look up at him. “If I told them about this. How I found you naked on your bed, fingers deep inside your soaked cunt while moaning my name like the fucking little whore you are. What would your family say? And mine? Should I let them know how much of a slut you're?”

You almost cry when he takes his finger off your mouth. 

“Answer me.” He commands. “Should I let everyone know?”

“If it pleases you.” You answer, voice sounding a little hoarse because of the previous activity in your throat. 

He smiles. 

“Is that what you want? To please me?”

You nod, fully conscious that you're making yourself look desperate- and actually you are. His mere presence, the sound of his voice, the smell of his cologne and the fact that he apparently wants you as much as you want him is enough for you. You're more than ready for him, for all of him, and Franco knows it. 

He knows it because it's written in you. All over the expression on your face and the way you open your legs for him when his right hand travels all the way down to your knee, and stays there, not moving back but neither further, torturing you silently. 

“Please.” You whisper. “Fran, I need you.”

It's funny, though. You're the one who's ready to please but you also are the one who begs. You've been actually begging him to touch you since the moment you saw him standing at the threshold.

Franco wishes you could read his mind and know that he's waited for this moment for a long time. He's wanted you since the moment you met, all those years ago. First, it was an innocent crush, that was all a child could offer, of course. But since you both grew into yourselves and he started to discover the world and other people- Franco had been with enough people to know that none of them could compare to you, even if he hadn't laid a hand on you yet. Something about you, about your aura, about the strong pull he felt towards you every single time you were in the same room, would assure him that nothing, no one, could compare to you. 

And now you're here, right in front of him, begging. The sound of your voice is almost haunting, like you're in deep pain. He could ask himself over and over again if this is the right thing to do, but in all honesty, he doesn't care about that. He only cares about you and the painful desire you make him feel even when he hasn't touched you properly yet. 

Besides, if you really need him as you say,  if you're in pain as you sound, who is he to deny you his help? Isn't he, after all, your best friend?

That thought is all he needs to vanish his worries to the darkest pit of his mind. 

“Are you really sure about this?” His voice cuts the silence once again. The eager nod coming from you makes him smile. “I need words, love.”

“Yes.” You answer almost too fast. “Please, Fran. Please. I can't wait anymore.”

He curses under his breath because he honestly can't believe it. He's amazed by your eagerness and so fucking turned on that he feels like he's going to cum right here and now. 

So, to avoid that, Franco doesn't waste any more time. Before you can blink twice, he's undoing his trousers and underwear, pulling them down as his hard cock springs out. You moan at the sight of it. Long and thick enough to make your mouth literally water, standing proud and impossibly hard against his shirt, almost staining the fabric with the precum that pools at the angry red tip. It's beautiful, just like the rest of him, and your cunt hurts with the anticipation of feeling it in you. 

After taking his shirt off, Franco's right hand travels down to his dick, grabbing it with a firm grip before pumping it a few times, smearing his own juices all over his length, which makes it look even more appetizing. 

You wait in your place on the bed, observing the small show of him touching himself for a few seconds until his right knee sinks on the mattress, right beside your shoulder. Then, his left hand goes to your hair, under your head, lifting it and adjusting it in the right way so the head of his dick is now right on your lips. He traces them with it, as if he were painting them. 

“So fucking perfect.” He whispers. In response, you let your tongue lick around the head of his dick, coaxing a deep moan out of him. The first contact with his skin is delicious but now you want more, so much more. And apparently he feels the same. 

“I'm gonna put it in your mouth. Is that okay, baby?” He asks. You make a sound that it's a mix between a whine and a moan as you nod for the hundredth time in the night. “Gonna suck my cock until I cum down your throat?” You almost jolt in excitement at that. “Yeah? You want my cum?”

Your answer sounds against the skin of his dick, which you keep licking. “Yes. Yes, please.”

That is the last thing you say for a few minutes, right before he presses the tip against your lips again and this time you open your mouth wide enough to take him in. The way Franco moans at the feeling of your warm, wet mouth is pornographic and you thank the Gods for that, the fact that he's always so vocal about everything and this situation is not an exception. Actually, his moans are all the fuel you need to keep going. The taste of him too. Everything about him makes you take him deeper inside your mouth every time he pulls almost all the way back, fucking your face faster and harder as the minutes pass by. 

The grip on your hair becomes tighter as the sounds of your throat being fucked fill the room. You gag only two times, when he pushes all the way in and holds his dick in the deepest part of your throat he can reach, your nose pressed against him and saliva falling down your chin and neck. Every time he pulls out, you take a second or two to gather your breath but soon enough he's at it again, and you receive him without any complaint, relaxing your throat all you can as he keeps filling it over and over again. 

The intensity and pleasure of it all becomes almost unbearable and soon you're pressing your thighs together, trying to ease the almost literal pain you feel. Franco sees it, attentive to your body even though a great part of his mind is clouded with the sweet abandon of pleasure. So, for a few seconds, he eases the grip on your hair so you can start doing most of the work now, because his right hand travels from your knee to your inner thigh, and it isn't long until you can feel his fingers in your cunt. 

Both of you moan at the feeling. You, because the pressure of his fingers on your slit ease the pain you've been feeling; him, because you're so fucking wet that, when he starts massaging your clit, your juices are so abundant that the movements he makes leave a loud, squelching sound behind them.

“You're soaked.” He moans, still inside your mouth and touching you at the same time. “Is this because of me, love?” 

The answer is obvious to both of you, but you answer anyway, “Yes.” You say, a hoarse voice can barely be heard above the sounds of your cunt. “Yes, it's because of you. Always.” 

Franco smiles, “Do you always touch yourself while thinking of me?” You nod and this time he laughs. It doesn't make you feel bad because it isn't a mocking laugh, it's like he can't believe it. “Same. You have no idea how many times I've made a mess while thinking of you.” 

As his velvety voice keeps sounding in your ears, he keeps massaging your clit, faster as the seconds go by. 

“I've imagined you in every position.” He mutters. “I've made myself cum so many times, thinking of your sweet mouth and cunt wrapped around me, milking me as many times as we wish.” 

He's realized from the first moment that dirty talking is one of your weaknesses, and lucky you, he loves saying naughty things, so he keeps doing it as he massages your clit and smiles triumphant when your legs start trembling and you look at him with an expression on your face that he will never forget. Glassy eyes look up at him as your teeth sinks into your lower lip; your orgasm is close and everything about you says so. 

When you try to close your eyes, his hand immediately slows the pace on your clit. You frown. 

“What-?”

“You keep looking at me.” He commands. You want to yell at him, but his movements become fast again and the sweet pressure on your lower belly comes back. “You look me in the eyes as you cum or I won't do this again, you understand?” You nod. “Words, (y/n).”

“I- fuck, I understand!” You moan as his fingers keep working you on at an impossible pace. 

Not many seconds pass by until the first orgasm hits you hard. Your eyes are still on his; your entire body trembling as the most lewd sounds leave your throat. The simple act of having an orgasm while looking at those beautiful green eyes is enough to bring tears to yours. The pleasure is too overwhelming. 

When the best seconds of your life so far end, your body relaxes and Franco pulls both his hands away from you, letting you rest on the bed. The fingers that worked your clit are now in his own mouth as he sucks them clean. The sight makes you moan. 

“Delicious.” He says, coaxing a giggle out of you. “What?”

“You're crazy. And so fucking hot.”

Franco smiles and shrugs. 

“You know me.”

“Not like this, no.”

“Oh, this? This is nothing, love.”

You frown, “You gave me the best orgasm of my life by simply touching my clit and you call it nothing? It never felt like that before.” 

“I mean, it's not my fault that your previous lovers were fucking idiots.”

You smile.

“And you're what, some sort of sex God?”

“That I am.” 

A genuine laugh escapes your lips. You laugh at his smug words and at the entire situation. Everything is so- surreal, in a way. It's almost comical. But the sound dies in your throat when you realize the way he's looking at you. He's not mad or annoyed, he just looks like he's discovered something new in you, but if he did he doesn't say it out loud. 

Soon, when you've recovered from your orgasm, you realize that Franco's still standing by your side and his dick is still impossibly hard. You remember his previous words, about sucking him off until he's cumming down your throat, and you feel the fire inside you light up once again. Your right hand wraps around his dick without a warning and he hisses, but he doesn't pull you away, instead enjoying your ministrations. 

“Not right now.” He says after a minute or two, as if he's reading your mind. You're sure, though, that he's actually reading the expression on your face as you jerk him off. It's clear that you want him to cum. “Not like this, I won't last long.”

You stop. Then, looking into his eyes, you open your legs for him once again. 

“Come here, then.”

He doesn't need to be told twice. In an instant, he's standing at your feet; both hands reach behind your knees and they pull you towards him. 

In a silent agreement, both of you take your time to look at each other. He's lucky enough to have you like this- completely bare before him, body glistening with sweat due to the previous activities, pretty face with an expression of utter pleasure as you anticipate what's coming, unconsciously opening your legs further, letting him fully see you. You're out of this world, so beautiful that it almost hurts. And he isn't so far behind- you also think he's the most handsome man you've ever seen, with those eyes scanning every piece of you, his curls sticking to his forehead and, oh, such a pretty face. His body is something else too- the hard muscles of his chest and abdomen, the shape of his arms, his hands. You take his hands in yours for a moment, squeezing them, praying this isn't the last time you feel them on you. 

You're both so mesmerized with each other that your bodies seem to move with their own consciousness, and that's why you share a loud moan when he enters you for the first time. 

It feels like nothing you've experienced before. You can't decide what is it that makes him so different from other people you've been with, but surely, there's something that makes Franco feel like heaven. He stays still for a few, long seconds because he's just realized that he penetrated you without warning and in a single movement, and even though it's obvious that you're ready enough to receive him, he doesn't want to hurt you. 

What he doesn't realise is that you're in pain once again because you need him to move and put an end to this feeling, this primitive need to have him just fucking you hard and deep. And that's what you finally ask from him, without shame, without guilt. 

“Please.” You beg once again. “Move. Please, move. I need to feel you.” 

You're sure you're about to cry but the tears get stuck in your eyes when Franco complies and starts moving his hips. It's slow at first, like he's testing the waters, but when the only thing you do is moan softly and writhe under him, crying for more, his hands leave yours and travel to your hips. Once he's sure his grip on your flesh is firm enough, he accelerates the pace, and starts pumping into you with a force that has you almost screaming. 

Soon you start moving your own hips, meeting him halfway and making the experience a thousand times better, if that's even possible. The feeling of his dick inside you, so fucking deep, is more than anything you've ever felt in your life. 

The room is filled with the sound of your skin against his, and the musky smell of sex intoxicates your senses. You've dreamed about this moment for so long that it feels surreal- his hands on your hips, his cock deep inside you and his eyes roaming the entirety of your body, all of it feels so out of this world and you love every second. You love it so much that you feel drunk with pleasure and something else that you can name yet. 

Franco grins at the sight of your eyes, glassy with tears that you're soon to shed. A deep feeling of pride fills his chest. 

“Look at you.” He taunts, never stopping his movements. “You were made for this, weren't you? You were made for my cock, for me.” 

You nod and moan, unable to form a full sentence as his pace becomes impossibly fast and hard- it's almost too much and the thought of asking him to slow down crosses your mind for a split second, until his hands travel up from their place on your hips to your breasts, and your brain almost shuts down. 

“Gonna enjoy these later, I promise.” He chuckles as his long fingers start kneading the flesh of your tits. When he pinches your nipples, the moan that leaves your throat is almost too much, but you don't care. It feels too good to hold back. 

You relish on the feeling of his fingers on your hard nipples until his right hand stops its ministrations to start roaming the skin of your left side, your waist, all the way back down to your hip and then- then you feel his fingers on your clit again, massaging it with expertise. You can't help but throw your head back as a deep moan leaves your throat. 

“Fuck, yes.” You moan, almost hysterical. “So good, so good- oh my-” 

Franco chuckles again and then says, in a mocking tone, “You're so dirty, (y/n). You really-” his words are suddenly interrupted by a strangled groan as you tighten your walls around him. Your warmth hugging his dick in a way that has him literally losing his balance and almost falling on top of you, and he would've crushed you if his arms weren't strong enough to keep him hovering over you.

His face contorted in an expression full of sheer pleasure, he looks so good with his eyes closed and mouth agape, desperately trying to hold the moans in. 

You're the one who chuckles this time. 

“Too good, huh?” You tease him, your cunt tightening around him once again. He groans and hides his face in the crook of your neck. “Can't take it, baby? Too much for you?”

Franco moans again and then you hear him whisper.

“I'm gonna make you- you will pay for this.”

You giggle softly. 

“I think I'd like that.”

All resolve leaves him when you make your magic again. The feeling of your cunt hugging his dick so tightly is enough to make him lose his mind and almost all control. His movements become messier as they get faster, you feel him twitch inside you once, then twice. You hum at the feeling, caressing his back and nape, then intertwining your fingers with his messy, wet locks. 

“I'm close.” He moans, the sound muffled by your skin. 

“I know, baby. Come on, cum for me."

“You first.”

For a moment you think your words are enough, but apparently they aren't. In a second, Franco seems to take back control of the situation when he suddenly breaks away from your arms, kneeling in front of you just like before- his hard, throbbing dick still deep inside of you. You're about to ask him what's going on but then his long fingers are on your clit again, and you answer by throwing your head back in a loud moan. 

Franco keeps working on the most sensitive part of your body as he starts moving again, in and out, at a torturous pace that has you writhing on the bed. Your eyes fill with tears again and he smiles. 

“Cum for me, love.” He encourages through gritted teeth. You know he's holding his own orgasm back by fucking you slowly, and his will certainly impresses you. “Please, do it. Cum all around my cock.”

How would you deny him? When he looks so good fucking you, working on your clit like this isn't the first time. How would you deny him anything when this is all you've ever wanted?

So you let yourself go. Your second orgasm hits you harder than the previous one, sweet cunt gushing all around him, soaking him and the sheets below you. Your moans are almost pornographic and you feel him twitch inside you at the sound of them. 

In the electric explosion that takes over your entire body and mind, you feel him crawling back on top of you, like he was just minutes ago. His face hiding in your left shoulder again as his hips keep fucking into you aggressively, making your climax last longer than expected. 

“Look at me.” You moan in his ear and your body trembles with the sound of a deep groan coming as a response. After a few seconds of you repeating those words, he lifts his head to look at you, forehead pressed against yours. “Cum inside of me and don't stop looking at me as you do it.” 

He chews on his lower lip. 

“I-inside?” You nod as much as you can. “Fuck, (y/n).”

“Please, I need it.” You moan against his mouth, your eyes on his. “I need your cum.” 

That last sentence is accompanied by his name and the way you moan it's all it takes for him to finally let go. The sounds Franco makes when he's cumming deep inside of you are never going to leave your memory, and you wish, right here, now, that you have the opportunity to hear them again many times from tonight. The sight of him is beautiful too- brows furrowed, eyes desperately trying to stay open and that pretty mouth shaped in an O form. His cheeks are red and glistening with the sweat that's covering him, as well as the tip of his nose.

As he empties inside of you, you keep caressing his back, leaving goosebumps behind your touch. His skin shivers with the feeling, still making little sounds that will haunt you forever. 

He pumps into you two or three times more, still filling you with his release, that soon you start feeling overflowing your cunt, falling down your ass and on the sheets. You wonder if he always cums this hard, and the idea that he might not, that you're the only one that makes him feel like this, it's exciting. 

After some long seconds he stops moving his hips but is still buried deep inside of you. His face goes back to the crook of your neck for the second time and you smile as you feel his hot breath on your skin and then a kiss, then his teeth grazing the spot and sinking into it. 

“That's gonna leave a mark.” You moan. 

“Good.”

You stay like that for minutes that feel like hours, in each other's arms, your skin sticking to his due to the sweat that you both share but you couldn't care less. It feels too good, everything about it feels too good and none of you make an attempt to break away from the other. 

Franco knows, as well as you do, that this has been an event that will change everything forever. Some part of you is afraid of what comes next- a hundred questions flood your brain but the main one is the one that haunts you the most. Was this a one night stand? 

You're about to gather the courage to ask him when he lifts his head to look at you, forehead against yours again. You look him in the eyes and, for a moment, you think that the green in his gaze gives you the answer you so desperately need. But in case you needed confirmation, he decides to speak it out loud. 

“I wanna do it again.” He simply states, and you feel your chest full with happiness. “Like, forever. I really mean it.”

You giggle in response and you feel the tears that you've been holding back slowly falling down your cheeks. Franco kisses them away as soon as he notices them. 

“You liked it that much?” You ask as he keeps kissing your face. He stops for a moment to answer, his lips moving against your jaw. 

“Yeah. But I like you, all of you.” He says. “And I want you so much it hurts.”

“I want you, too.”

He smiles shortly before capturing your lips with his, and you realise that this is the first time you've ever kissed. People are supposed to kiss before having wild sex, but who cares?

All you care about is Franco and his pretty lips on yours, moving with such confidence and expertise that leave you breathless. You can feel everything in that kiss, it feels like he's trying to say all those things that he thinks it's too soon to say yet, but you answer him with the same intensity, making him tremble in your arms. 

His kiss says that he loves you too much to let you go, and you tell him that you feel the same.

a/n2: hope you liked it! pls let me know what you think ♥

[nonightingalesinberkelysquare]

WARNING FOR GOOD OMENS SPOILERS!!!!

FURTHER SLIGHT SPOILER WARNING FOR THE FOLLOWING BOOKS: The Bone Clock by David Mitchell, You Only Call When You're In Trouble by Stephen Mcauley, and Bibliomaniac by Robin Ince.

So I'm sure a lot of the fandom have seen the pictures posted by a very lucky fan who saw the production of good omens happening out in Scotland today!!

However what I'm not seeing people talk about is a hidden gem in the reblogs.

SOMEONE HAD MANAGED TO GET A PICTURE OF THE BOOKS IN THE WINDOW!!!

Naturally, I had to go and do my research to see if these books give us any clues or serve any other purposes other than decorative purposes

AND LET ME TELL YOU

These are the the books visible in the window:

I'll go through them one by one

(Please bear in mind, I haven't read any of these books personally!! The only information I have on them are the little bits I found online in a very rushed attempt at research!!!)

Okay firstly

"The Bone Clocks" by David Mitchell

Now, this is the one that I struggled to make sense of the most out of the three.

The story appears to follow a runaway teenage girl who is a "lightning rod for psychic phenomena." These visions are said to reorder reality and send her into a real life nightmare.

However,

It also states that there is a boy who eventually crosses paths with her and who's story "comes together in moments of grace and extraordinary wonder"

As I said, I've never read these books and the only link I could begin to make with this is the idea of a "supernatural being meets another supernatural being and what they can do when they're together defies anyone's wildest dreams" story, similar to what we have seen and could see in GO3.

The next book is where it gets FARRRR more interesting (in my opinion)

NOW

THE TITLE? INTERESTING ASF.

IS AZIRAPHALE IN TROUBLE? OR EVEN CROWLEY?

The quotes are literally taken from the amazon listing itself, but I'll just point out the bits that stuck out to me personally.

☆ "is it ever okay to stop caring for others and start living for yourself?"

And I'm skipping a HUUUUGE chunk of the story here so apologies

☆ "Tom does what he's always done - answers the call."

☆ "Thus begins a journey that will change everyone's life and demonstrate the beauty or dysfunction (or both?) of the ties that bind families together and sometimes strangle them."

THAT LAST QUOTE REALLY STICKS OUT TO ME. Personally, I'd say that could possibly relate to the heaven and hell divides?

But furthermore, we were told prior to the whole NG situation that Aziraphale and Crowley aren't talking.. so could that mean that as soon as they begin speaking once again, they have the power to leave heaven and hell behind? Perhaps stop the divides?

And last, but certainly not least

Now, keep in mind that this particular book is nonfiction and appears to be written from the authors own point of view as he aims to visit 100 bookshops in 100 days.

This has a relatively short description from what I can see right now so I'll put it in here

"Bibliomaniac takes the reader on a journey across Britain as Robin explores his lifelong love of bookshops and books - and also tries to find out just why he can never have enough of them.

It is the story of an addiction and a romance, and also of an occasional points failure."

This one interested me SO much because it SCREAMS Aziraphale character development sort of thing? You know?

I really struggled to find any spoilers for this one whatsoever but one website did mention the author's love for vintage books, which he only ever reads as and when, as opposed to focusing on just one book.

I just thought this was SO SO SOOOOO interesting, and if anybody has any differing thoughts/interpretations or has even read the books, the comment section is a safe space to do so!!! All theories/suggestions are welcomed (any hate WILL be blocked, don't test me).

OR MAYBE THIS ALL MEANS NOTHING AND IM JUST CLOWNING FAR TOO HARD?!??!??!

[torturedtypewritersdept]

as someone who gets the worst cramps during my period i would love to read about reader getting them in the middle of the night and she wakes dr rafe up because it just hurts too much that she begs him for a pain killer injection even though she hates getting them after getting so many over the last few months and after he gives her one he helps her fall asleep again by massaging her stomach:((

blue eyes + bruises - blurb - period troubles

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✯ pairing:

doctor!rafe cameron x fem!reader

✯ summary:

a tragic car accident looks like it'll be the end for you, but dr. cameron is here to make sure that doesn't happen.

✯ warnings:

mature themes, mentions of anxiety, nostalgia, and fear, car accident, death of a spouse (not rafe or y/n), major surgery, injuries, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, etc.

✯ a/n:

hey, love thank you so much for this request as someone who has stage 4 endometriosis this is something that i experience constantly. my thoughts are with you, love and you enjoy this!

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It’s the middle of the night and rafe is at the hospital; he was on call this weekend and unfortunately had to go in after a fifteen year old boy suffered a severe femur fracture in a football game. You knew the boy needed rafe's surgical skills almost as much you needed his cuddles. The apartment is currently eerily quiet, you'd shut off the tv hours ago, hoping the silence would lull you to sleep but it's just quiet, the kind of quiet that only adds to the ache in your abdomen. You've been hurting for hours, but it’s become unbearable now. You're no stranger to unbearable pain after the year you'd had last year, meeting rafe in the hospital was the only upside. Suddenly, a wave of cramps hit so hard that you can barely breathe through them, each one worse than the last. You begin to think that the word cramps isn't accurate enough to describe how it really feels; like your insides are being shredded with a knife. You’re tangled in blankets, tossing and turning, hoping beyond hope that rafe will miraculously come home soon, though you know it isn't likely.

In what feels like hours later but is probably only a few minutes, you hear the click of the door and sigh a breath of relief as you glance at the clock beside the bed. 2:47 AM. He must've finished up early, you thought. The pain is so intense now that you can’t help the quiet whimper that escapes your lips. Rafe hears it as he places his keys in the bowl beside the door, suddenly on edge as he remembers hearing those exact same noises when you were writhing in pain all those months ago in the hospital. He heads for the bedroom, urgently. He blinks a few times, the confusion slowly lifting as he sees your contorted face.

“baby, hey, you okay?” His voice is groggy but soft, reaching out to touch your forehead gently.

“I—I can’t,” you choke out, your voice strained as you curl in on yourself. “It’s too much. I need help, Rafe. Please.”

You see the worry flash across his face as he bends down onto his knee beside the bed. He knows the pain you’re talking about. He’s seen you go through it time and time again. But you know that look too—the one where he knows exactly what this means. You hate getting injections. You’ve had too many over the past few months, your body becoming all too familiar with the needle. But this time… this time, you can’t do it without help.

He leans over, his hand gently brushing your cheek. “I’ll be right back, okay? Just hold on baby.”

You nod, clutching the sheets, waiting as he disappears into the bathroom. It feels like an eternity, but when he returns, the needle is already filled. He kneels beside you again, his eyes full of both concern and understanding.

“I know you hate these,” he says quietly, his thumb brushing over your hand, “but this will help, i promise, angel.”

You close your eyes, bracing yourself as the needle stings, the familiar feeling of it sinking in. You wince, but it’s only for a second. Almost immediately, a wave of relief starts to wash over you, the pain starting to ebb away, though it’s still there in the background, dulled. Rafe gently helps you lay back down, adjusting the blankets around you.

“Just breathe, sweetheart. It’s gonna pass,” he murmurs as his hands move to your stomach. His fingers press in lightly, massaging circles across your abdomen with practiced care. You sigh, the tenderness of his touch easing some of the lingering discomfort. Your body relaxes into the warmth of his hands, the pain retreating with each gentle movement. Before long, you feel yourself drifting, the exhaustion of the night and the relief from the injection lulling you into a peaceful sleep. Rafe stays beside you the whole time, watching over you, ensuring you’re okay. His touch never wavers as he keeps massaging your stomach, guiding you into a deep, restful slumber. The world outside the covers fades away, leaving only the sound of his steady breathing and the quiet comfort of being his in its wake.

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taglist:

as always, if you'd like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please shoot me an ask or comment on this post so i can keep track <3

@maybankslover @inthelibrarybtw @luvrcndy @silkylovey @yagirlwrites @obxbabygirl @rafeecameronsbitch @klutzy-kay24 @roseczbalt @akobx @allsmilesreally7 @wtfdudesblog @urdreamgirl12 @hockeybabe87 @sereneera @annaconscience @pogueprincesa @bibissparkles @obxbigsis @jjmaybankmylovee @kulekehe

[sunrisecaminus]

Ollo :>

Could you do a femme seeker reader x Megatron?

The reader is Megatron’s Conjunx and has wanted a sparkling for a long time.

Unfortunately thanks to the war, things make life unsafe to try start a family.

Now, thanks to the nemesis, it’s the perfect time to ask.

The reader is shy about it a first, beating around the bush until she blurts “I want a sparkling”

Cut to Megatron’s breeding kink(if that makes you uncomfortable then that’s ok), being pounded into oblivion into his throne.

Megatron is on his 4th load of transfluids but will not stop until he is sure the reader is satisfied and full.

Thank u :>

Message - When I said you could be freaky, I meant it. No judgement here man. I gotchu!

Megatron x Seeker Reader NSFW

Summary - Seeker conjunx is starting to get really impatient about Megatron not getting her sparked.

Warnings - NSFW, Breeding Kink,

It has been so long sense you and Megatron talked to each other outside of work related things. You have had enough from all the battling at this point and just wanted to be free from all the Autobots for once. You needed air from General Starscream and his arrogance so when you got a scouting mission you knew this was a perfect opportunity to leave.

You have been flying for about 4 hours now, but you didn't want to land. The clouds and the sky were beautiful on this planet and you wanted to take it all in before you went back in that dark ship. Going over rivers, mountains, and even flew over to another state just to see new environment. You ground bridged to the ocean and had fun splashing your wings in the water while going 1,600 mph. You being one of the fastest seekers out there made Starscream jealous, but you didn't care. After landing yourself on a mountain cliff, dangling your legs over to watch the sea waves, you started to think about things you have been wanting. One of the first things that have come to mind was finally having a little sparkling of your own. Every time you try to bring it up to your conjunx, he would just think you are talking about something else. That man, even if he hates you saying it, was the most oblivious man ever. You have even tried FLIRTING, twitching your wings at him, doing some lovely romantic dances with him in the berth room, and even kissing him a few times while telling him about what they should do when the Decepticons wins once and for all. He will never get it! Seekers are very much known for not being down to earth and not saying exactly what is on their minds, so you aren't use to telling him exactly what you want. It would be embarrassing for you if you had to tell him "Hey lets have a sparkling!" You feel butterflies even thinking about telling him so bluntly.

Someone is wanting to speak with you on your com link so you answer for them. "Hello?" Normally it would be Megatron or Starscream trying to reach you, but today it was surprisingly just another seeker. "Good Morning mam, please make your way back as a meeting is about to start in 2 hours." You were getting a bit annoyed about this, another meeting…really?! You thank them and end the call, transforming and going back to the ship. You land on the top to meet Starscream reading on a data pad, probably another report. Even if you don't want to admit it, you and Starscream are very close friends. He may be a bit of a baby, but you help him from getting hit by Megatron quite often and it got you two to get closure and talked more about things. "Hey Star, can I talk to you for a second?" You put a hand on your hip sassily. "Not now y/n I-" He interrupts himself when he looked up and saw you were pissed. He puts the data pad down on a table and turned his whole body to face you. "You ok?" "No, so many things have been on my mind. I have told you before that I have always dreamed of having a sparkling to take care of for the next generation, but Megs won't even look at me in a loving way anymore and I haven't had a kiss from him in 12 years!" You were so frustrated, wanting to get everything off your chest finally and Starscream took a second to load all the information you just told him. "Well have you tried wing communication?" Ah, Starscream also thought Megatron would know such an important Seeker language. He has been known to control the entire Seeker army and for some reason doesn't even know a flying fuck about Seeker culture. "I have literally danced with him and we even were going to kiss…until he said he needed to talk to Soundwave and he would "Dance with me later". Like HELLO!" Your wings were down and twitched a bit in anger. Starscream rolled his eyes to give you a motion that he completely understands where you are coming from. "Oh please, he can't be that stupid. At this point just yell at him. Don't show anymore kindness to him about it anymore. He needs to realize that if he is dating someone from another background, he is going to have to learn a thing or two about who we are." Starscream just pats you on the shoulder and tells you that he will see you at the meeting and leaves. He was right about something…that mech needed to learn a lesson or two.

Before the meeting you wanted to give him one last chance. You walk up from behind Megatron and gently grab his hips. "Boo~" You smile with a loving look as he turned over to you with his angry expression. Once he sees that it is you, his eyes soften and grab your servo, kissing your digits. "How are you dear." You blush a bit, but lovingly give him a boop on his chest. "I was wondering if you would like to do to the next level after the meeting, hmm?" This has to be the perfect hint you good give him. What else would this mean? This was giving "Fuck me alright" energy and your tone said so. Megatron smirks and you wait for something flirty like he always did…but than-. "Well of course. I will put you in charge of the fleet next battle. I knew you have been getting bored about staying in the back. We can talk about your role in the next phase soon. I just need to talk to the others about their newest reports." He lets go of your servo and walks off. Holy Scrap that blew the fuse in your mind. No…No…NO! He has to be doing this on purpose! Megatron is the leader of the Decepticons and yet is so blind that he can't even find a TANK IN A STORAGE CLOSET!!!

You didn't go to the meeting, you needed to show him that you didn't care about his order about being there. You didn't want to hear him speak right now and took your lovely time in the Berth Room you share with Megatron. He noticed immediately that you were not there. Genuinely he were very confused from seeing you just a few minutes before it started. After the meeting he noticed the Berth Room was occupied and he came in to see you cleaning your wings, looking out the window to see the lovely sunset. You looked to beautiful to him, your elegance and lovely plating shined from the light and your eyes were always nice to look at. "You weren't in the meeting." He was the exact opposite with you, down to earth and blunt with what he wanted to talk about. You turn to him with narrow eyes and an angry look, which made him understand that he fucked up in some way and shut the door. "You never got it, for years I have been trying to show you that I was ready…but you never seem to look at me like you use to." Oh did it piss you off when he raised his eyebrow at you in confusion. You just wanted to smack him. You kept talking. "You notice everything else. My needs, the things I love, my support for the cause. Whenever I want to give you a life we both can share, You never seem to turn my way!" Megatron stayed silent, waiting for you to finish, he knew you were upset about something so he let you continue to hopefully hear what you desired from him. He obeyed your wishes a lot, he never knew he was ignoring one that you deemed important. "I want a Sparkling. Your Sparkling!"

Oh boy, did he just get whiplash from that statement. Before the war he has been telling his conjunx about his dreams of him getting you sparked and being able to take care of their sparkling's together. Now Megatron feels like a dumbass…scrap this whole time you have been giving him everything to show him you were ready. His spike was already pressing against his panel, but he needed to know if you were still ready. "I apologize for the torture you must have been going through, sweetspark. Would y-" Before he could say anymore, you sit yourself on the berth and lower your wings in a cute position. "Get over here right now you fragger." Megatron didn't ask anymore questions and grabs you by the neck, forcing you down onto the bed and biting your arm. "Whatever you wish~" His panel pops and you see his spike is fully ready for you to use. He bites your neck and keeps your hips in a good hold as you pull your head back and moan from the pleasure that you are being given now. You wanted him so badly, but you needed him to work for it after what he put you through. Your wings twitch from how good you felt Megatron touching you after years of not interfacing. After a while, your pede presses against his spike, making Megatron stop what he was doing to groan from the pressure you just gave him. "ngnn y/n…" Smiling from what you just did, you push his chest to get him to be the one to lay down as you climb on top of him. You shove your aft in his face as you start to lick the base of his spike with your glossa. You hear Megatron moan a bit louder, but than your panel is opened and your valve starts to get licked. "Ah! Megs! You Aft!" You hiss from how slow he was going and stopped giving friction to his spike, which made him realize that you were going to be a bit of a brat if he didn't do what you wanted. He starts to eat you properly as you feel his glossa going into your walls. Finally feeling satisfied from your valve being used and takes in his whole spike after a few more licks. Both of you were in a daze, trying your best to pleasure each other without becoming a moaning mess.

You feel as Megatron was about to release and you stop, shutting his tip so he didn't drip anywhere and he hissed from being stopped. "You brat!" He growls at you as you turn around, putting your valve above his spike. That made him shut up before he could say anything else and holds your hips again, ready when you wanted to move. You smile, in love at looking at your conjunx's face and lowered yourself on his spike. He exhales from how warm and tight you were; your wings spread to their full wingspan as your walls stretch to make room for him. After a while of both of you trying not to move, you start to go up and down, staring into his optics with nothing but love. He smirks at how you look right now, you were such a mess. "Look at you, craving for my sparklings. They will all be yours." He tells you in a deeper tone, knowing you crave for his sexy voice again. You look up to the ceiling and start feeling like you were going to finally cum. "Megs-ah!" You grab his hands that were clenched around your waist as he claws at your plating, both of you releasing at the same time. You stay sat deep onto his spike, making sure none of his fluids leave your valve. You stay where you were as you finally were at peace with everything. Megatron lays you on his chest and hugs around your body, helping you feel safe after such a vulnerable event took place. "Another Round?" You smirk from him asking such a stupid question. "You don't even need to ask".

[fanonical]

Did you ever get my ask? I asked about what to do when a child loves something by a problematic author. How do you go about telling them if they’re too young? SHOULD you tell them? I’m talking about current 10 year old HP fans and children who like the Coraline movie. What do we do when it’s them and not adults? We forget about the target audience too much when we talk about things like this as if it were exclusively childhood nostalgia of Millenials/Gen Z

For fuck's sake, I didn't want to rise to the bait here, but this is making me mad because it's such a straw argument, so fuck it, I'm taking the bait. For context, this is anon's first ask:

Anon, first off, you are responding to a post that is five years old and about a subject that we pointedly do not post about anymore, and that alone makes me think you're not responding in good faith, but whatever.

Look, I work in a fucking library. We have HP books. If a child comes up to me and asks 'hey where's the HP books' I am not going to a) kick them in the face, b) tell them they're an idiot or c) refuse to answer. I am going to tell them where the fucking HP books are. I don't put them on displays I make, but I don't censor them, because we are legally not allowed to censor books in the library.

But I guess you're asking more if this is a kid who's in my life, as opposed to a kid who I just kinda come across. So, okay, I have a 9 year old neighbour whose family are friends with mine, we play video games together occasionally when her mum and dad need someone to watch her. And this kid reads books! And this kid reads fantasy books.

If I was seriously talking to her about the HP books, I might tell her about JKR! I would say something like 'I used to like the HP books, but then I learned that the author said some really nasty things about trans people like me. Now I don't like them so much any more.' And we could have a conversation about that, you know! I've talked to this kid about transphobia in terms that are appropriate for her age. We've had discussions about gender before. I think she'd listen to me, and form her own fucking opinion about it! 'I don't like the author of the HP books because she has said some nasty things' is a concept you can communicate to a five year old.

But also like. You're kind of acting like by taking away HP from this (hypothetical in your ask) kid they don't have any other books. Which...isn't true? If all copies of the HP books disappeared off the face of the earth tomorrow, kids would be reading other stuff, as they are currently reading other stuff! My 9 year old neighbour is a huge Jacqueline Wilson fan, she loves the Daisy Meadows rainbow fairy books. I want to introduce her to the Morrigan Crow books. We could get retro and start introducing kids to the Edge Chronicles, I fucking loved those books. Artemis Fowl. A Series of Unfortunate Events. There are so many other book series for kids in this world. I work in a fucking library! I can tell you that the kids are into Tom Gates, Dogman, Diary of a Wimpy Kid, Percy Jackson, Babysitter Club, Dork Diaries, and (exasperated sigh) David Walliams books, based on a sample size of every kid I encounter at work. I get asked for all of them far more than I do for HP, actually.

I don't think you'd be ruining every kid's lives by taking away One Series from them. (Particularly not one that's losing some relevancy every day - and I mean that in the sense that it's not an ongoing series, the last book came out in 2007. Nearly 20 years ago. For a nine or ten year old, that's almost double their entire life.) And I don't think you necessarily would be taking it away from them to say 'hey this is the reason I don't like these books'. I trust your average ten year old to be able to have a reasonably mature conversation. You're making it sound like they're all Oliver Twist holding out their gruel bowl saying 'please sir I only read one book'.

Anyway. All this to say, I think kids have the ability to have conversations about media. And there are other books in the world. So, no, taking HP or Coraline or whatever away from kids is hardly snatching candy from a baby. Kids are smarter than you think.

[bullet-prooflove]

Hello 👋 prompt "first calling just to say good night, but it turns into hours" for Wes Mitchell please

Tagging: @kmc1989 @mckinleysbones @district447 @witchygagirl @cosmosnkaz

On the nights that Wes is away, he calls just after midnight. It doesn’t matter if he’s in the midst of an operation or bedding down in his hotel room, he never ends the day without saying goodnight. These calls, they’re his way of letting you know that he’s ok, that he’s safe.

It’s only ever meant to be a minute, a quick sweet dreams before he hits the hay but it never ends up that way because Wes, he can talk to you for hours. No matter what’s going on in that moment, the sound of your voice soothes his soul, that’s how he knows you’re the one. His life, it’s a tempestuous ship at times and you’re the port in a the storm, the lighthouse in the distance drawing him in, keeping him moored against the storm.

It's when he’s in Munich he tells you the real reason he left that morning in LA. The two of you have been talking about heading out Romai Beach to try to catch a few waves when he gets back home, he’s thinking of making a day of it.

“That morning I left, I was scared you know?” He tells you as he lies tangled up in hotel room sheets. “The things I felt with you, it wasn’t like Ella, it was a deeper connection. I could be vulnerable with you and that, that absolutely terrified me, it sent me running for the hills because I’m not use to feeling safe like that, to having someone who sees me, the real me.”

“What about now?” You ask him and he pictures you lying there in his t-shirt, hair fanned across his pillow.

“Being with you in Budapest, it’s the first time I’ve felt like I’m in the right place in a very long time.” He whispers, his hand smoothing over the empty space beside him.

“Sometimes home isn’t a place…” You remind him and Wes smiles because LA or Budapest, it doesn’t matter so long as he has you in his life, so long as you’re together it doesn’t matter where he hangs his hat.

“Sometimes it’s a person.” Wes tells you with a sincerity you feel in the depths of your heart. “And for me that person is you.”

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[jackiesunshines]

IN ANOTHER LIFE, MY DEAR | I.ENGEN²³

summary: you read over the collection of letters your ingrid has sent you over the year of your love. her words make your grief calmer.

contains: retelling of romeo and juilette in gay, letter form, juilet.ᐟingrid x romeo.ᐟreader, mentions of homophobia & death/suicide, set in an unspecified time in norway, ingrid is the only daughter of wealthy family while reader is apart of a poorer family of farmers, this is wlw!!, implied masc.ᐟreader, inaccuracies of the romeo & juilet story i'm adapting the story to fit what i want this to be, ingrid and reader are around eighteen to twenty years old, unhappy ending.

author notes: i just had the idea for this and was like might as well write it. hopefully you guys enjoy 💞

from lady ingrid of the engen family,

i saw you the other night at lady frida's gathering. you were wearing such a stuffy dress and i could tell by your expression that you hated every second of it, but oh you looked stunning. in your usual garments that i see you in, you look always look so handsome. is that weird to say of a woman? i hope not because the word suits you. i think stunning suits you as well. maybe one day we can try on dresses together? only if i can see the cute pout you had last night.

━ june 2nd

from lady ingrid of the engen family,

do you know i am sending my letters in secret? relying on the bribing of the men who work on my family's estate grounds? every time you write back, my heart feels warm. my parents don't believe in being close to ones "below us," whatever that means. i don't see you as below me. not at all. i made my riding teacher take me all the way past your family's farm, so i could see you. it was late in the afternoon, and i was worried that you would be resting inside, but no, you were out working like one of the men. if someone saw you and your brothers, they wouldn't be able to tell you apart, but i can. your brothers aren't as beautiful as you, no offense to their looks. you're like a rose amongst a bunch of flower less stems. you didn't see me, but i saw you. those few minutes felt like getting a taste of heaven. please write back sooner than last time.

━ june 14th

from your friend ingrid of the engen family,

are we close enough that i can call you my friend? is it strange that i complimented you various times but only now asking for your hand in friendship? i loved seeing you today, down by the river with your dog. if only my brother didn't take me away, i would have talked to you longer. i pray he didn't tell my parents about what happened, but they keep things from me, so what do i know? do your parents do the same? i doubt they do with the way they allow you to work on the farm. however if they do then they would be hypocrites. i ate a very sweet strawberry cake today as a treat and it reminded me of you. when the taste fleeted me, it reminds me of you the most.

━ june 23rd

from your friend ingrid,

how did you find a way to send me a gift? you are so clever. it just draws me to you more. i'm wearing the dress you sent right now. it's so soft but not as soft as your skin. that night, i snuck out and came to see you for those few minutes, i can't get it out of my head. please, may we do it again sometime soon? you said in your last letter that i hugged like someone yearning for something. it is true. i yearn for you.

━ july 1st

from your dove, ingrid,

no one has ever compared me to an animal before. especially not a bird, but when i came to your family's farm with my father, i heard you whisper to your friend who was there at the time that i was as angelic as a dove. thank you. i would compare you to an adorable animal as well, but that would be underselling your beauty. so for now and hopefully forever, you are my angel.

━ july 9th

from your dove, ingrid,

sorry for not writing back in ages. i'm having troubles here at home. my parents want me to get married. can you believe them? they say it would be worthwhile to get married now when my beauty isn't fading, but you always told me that my beauty would never fade. who shall i believe? am i only worthy if i am gorgeous? please help me answer this question of mine. you seem to be in a better state than me when it comes to marriage. your parents don't seem to care about your romantic life, but mines are stuck in the restricted standards of our class. i don't want to marry anyone who isn't you. is that too big of a confession?

━ october 24th

from your dove, ingrid,

we kissed last night. i can't believe it. forget any marriage to some man who can't even have half of the strength and smarts that you do and none of the beauty. i love you

━ november 1st

from ingrid,

my parents called me into their room and sat me down and told me that i would be getting married by the summer of next year. somehow, some way, they have found out about our letters. those disloyal men of my family's estate must have ratted me out. we are too close for my family's comfort. women shouldn't write like this to one another. my mother told me i should put my serenading skills to use for a man as that is the way of nature. if that is the way of nature, then why does it feel so unnatural? i'll find a way to write to, my love. hopefully, this is not my last.

━ december 2nd

from ingrid

happy new year, my angel. they can take me away from our hometown, but they can never take me away from you.

━ january 1st

from your dove,

putting my name on these feels risky now. i don't know how long the couple i pay for will continue doing this for me. i don't know the next time my family will try to tear me away from you. i have not met my husband yet, we will meet on our wedding day, but i promise you that day will not be a happy one. let's plan something together. take care, my angel.

━ february 16th

your dove,

i will send the couple with the amount of money we need and the documents i have forged. you are so handsome that i hope that when this plan happens, people will take one look at you and just believe you are a man. hopefully, they don't look closer because then they will see that your beauty is something a man can never achieve. i had to put a compliment into here, i would say sorry, but i know you love it. i love you, take care.

━ april 4th

your dove,

can't wait to be with you, my angel. see you in a month.

━ april 18th

your dove,

my family and his family have decided to get us married earlier than planned. i think my parents are worried that i am still thinking of you, and of course, they are right, but that doesn't mean it makes me any less angry. i will never be wed to him, i swear on my life. i love you, and we will be together, whether in this life or in death. if i can not run away, then i promise i will never let him take me away from you.

━ may 22nd

to my angel,

is it true? there are rumors that you have died of an illness, i don't believe that for one second. my wedding night is tomorrow, and my family is feeding me lies. i kept telling myself that, but then they showed me a letter from your father that stated your death right there in ink. i don't know what to believe, but i do know i do not want to be wed to this man. not for one night or for the rest of my life. i told you i would love you forever, and that is true. we promised to be together, but i never thought it would end up being in death rather than in life. i am only writing this in hopes that my family will find this and see that they have driven us to madness. i'll shall see you in heaven, my angel. i will ignore the sharp pain of the dagger by thinking of the sweetness of your kiss. i love you.

━ june 1st

author notes: this might suck? idkkkk 🙂‍↕️

[suprababka]

Heyy hiii

First of all- i absolutely love how flashy flash matches the vibes in prank scenarios

Second thing- i have a request. Characters related to the main cast write to y/n. Like Genus invites Zombieman and y/n to eat takoyaki, Bang (or any of his students) asks about Garou, Kuseno asks about Genos ect. Aand maybe some kind of reaction? from the main cast (for example i'm sure Garou would be teased for having a gf)

Anyway, i really like your writing and I'm really looking forward to read more of it✌🏼✌🏼

Hey-hey!👋 Thank you, I'm happy to hear this! I always have fun while making Flashy Flash's parts :)) And thank you for the request as well! It was quite entertaining for me to do. Really, it was something new. I enjoyed making chats with new characters and from our boys' POV :D (I'd like to make more chats from their POV, I don't even know why I liked doing it that much) Talking about that, I hope I undersood you correctly: someone texts the Reader –> the Reader writes to their s/o🫡 Though, if something is not right, please let me know, and I'll fix it. Have fun!💕

Messages from their acquaintances

A/N: Damn, why Amai Mask is so 🥵🥵🥵 in his hero visual...

Thanks for all the likes, comments, reblogs and following me! I really appreciate your feedback and support, guys!🥰🫶

You can check my masterlist to see more of my other works.

Prepare for possible OOC!

(Sorry if there are any mistakes!)

And, most importantly, enjoy!!!

Saitama & Genos & Speed-o'-Sound Sonic

Garou & Metal Bat & Amai Mask

Flashy Flash & Zombieman & King

[jannythewriter-pt2]

Collage Feels Pt5

Warning ⚠️: Angst, NSFW

You and Connie had been taking things slow, learning each other, touching each other, loving each other…. That was until this morning. You woke up in your shared collage dorm apartment and you two had started arguing. “Idk why tf it’s not okay for me to go to that party tonight, I haven’t been out in a while and I want to go with my homegirls?! How’s that not okay?” You said upset. Yes you love your time with Connie but you wanted to spend some time with your girls, was that too much to ask?

“You don’t need to go to that party mami it’s dangerous, what if someone tries something with you huh?! Tf you gon do then?” he raised his voice a lil. “Don’t fucking talk to me like that, I’m a grown ass woman I can do what the fuck I want?!” You said not backing down at all. “Fine do what the fuck you want, you wanna go fuck other dudes you can go do that too” he said bitterly. “EXCUSE ME?!” after that you both get to yelling, you don’t want to fight with him, and yelling wasn’t something you liked either.

He had said something he shouldn’t have, he said that maybe you wanted to go to the party so you could go back to your ex because apparently he was supposed to be there. Knowing all the trauma he put you thought, how bad he had hurt you, it brought back memories you wanted to forget. Connie knew this, he realized what he said after he said it.

“Mami I-“ you cut him off “save it” you had tears running down your face. You grab your keys and your card and leave the apartment, “fuck” he said standing in the middle of the living room, he knows he fucked up.

That night instead of going to the party, you stayed at Mikasas dorm and cried on her shoulder for hours. Eren and mikasa lived together so he wanted to know what was going on. You told him and he wasn’t happy.

He had called Connie and asked him what his problem was and why he said the shit he said. Everyone in the group had known how bad your ex had treated you, so this wasn’t something he could just brush off.

“Fuck man I know I messed up, I know I shouldn’t have said it, I didn’t mean it I was just so fucking angry” he said sounding just as upset as I was. Even sighed and said “you can’t say everything that comes to your mind, what you did was horrible and you need to make it up to her”.

The very next day Connie had texted you. “Baby please come home, I wanna apologize for what I said to you”. You read it and don’t respond for about an hour but mikasa had forced you to respond, if you don’t it would make the situation worse and you knew that.

You typed a simple “fine” then got your stuff, said your goodbyes, and left. When you got back home to the apartment, not only was it clean, but there were rose petals and candles everywhere.

Connie came to the door and held your face. “I’m sorry for what I said. I’m sorry I hurt you, I know I had no business saying some dumb ass shit like that….. please forgive me” he’s so sincere. He rarely apologizes to anyone but you and you know that this is hard for him.

“You know how I felt about that shit, you know that situation was fucked and you still said something….. you can’t just say things like that, it’s so disrespectful” you said upset. “I know mami, and I’m sorry. I only said it cause I was upset I promise I didn’t mean any of it…… please let me make it up to you…. please baby…. Let me take it off your mind”.

And he did, he had put you in the counter, ripping your sweats and underwear off in one go, spreading you on the kitchen countertop. “There she is, so pretty” he waste no time and starts eating you like he hasn’t eaten in weeks.

“Ooooo fuck baby yes” you moan, one thing about your man, he could eat pussy like a pro. You move your hips on his face so you can get all of it. He puts two fingers in and pushes them in and out, watching how your face bunches up.

“I’m gonna cum baby” you cry out but he stops “why’d you- mmh~” he slapped his pink tip on your pretty pussy before you could finish your sentence. “Lemme show you how sorry I am”. When he pushes in, you already feel it. His fat tip bullying its way into you without mercy.

“Fuck baby it’s so good shiiiit” you scream out, he’s usually gentle most times but he’s so rough right now. “That’s right mama, take that dick…. Look at it, she’s creaming for me already fuuuk” he moans out. A thick ring of cream was forming at the base of his dick. He thought it was so pretty the way you were cumming for him already. “That’s right mama, nut on that dick”.

He takes you to the bedroom where he drills you in from behind. He’s pulling your hair so he can look at those pretty eyes roll back as he beats that pussy up. You’re trying to talk but you can’t, he finds your G spot and starts pounding you even harder.

“Fuck I’m cumming daddy” and you do, you make a pretty mess right on his sheets and he loves it. He’s not done though, he puts you on your back and tilts your head down to look at where you two connect. “Tell me where you want it mama” he moans out, “nut in this pussy baby” you say barley keeping it together.

“F-fuck don’t say it like that mama, might get you pregnant if you keep talking like that, fucccck~” his pace becomes erratic as he’s close, and then you feel it. “Shit I’m coming baby, oh fuck~” he shoots his load inside you and you swear you can feel it in your stomach. There’s so much it’s flowing down the sides of his dick. You feel so full, like there’s no space left in you. Your back arches up because you’re still feeling it. “Fuck it’s so much” your legs are shaking.

After he tells you how amazing you were for him, you two shower and go to bed. The next morning you wake up with breakfast in bed and some flowers, he said he was gonna make it up to you, and he meant it.

[tarotbyjam24]

How do men view you ?

Likes , reblogs and feedbacks are very much appreciated 💗 Disclaimer: this is general reading . It may or may not resonate . If reading doesn't resonate let it fly and choose another pile or simply there were no messages for you through this reading 😊 Take the reading lightly as nothing's set in stone until you believe so 🕊️Thankyou for stopping by let's dive in ☄️ Choose the pile you feel most drawn to 🧸

Pick a piles \masterlist

Pile 1 Pile 2

Pile 1

Hi pile 1 men view you as someone who's person with innocent mind . Men view you as someone who doesn't like to get tied up be it work related or relationship related? Men view you as someone who doesn't like to be in control. They view you as someone who has their own fire like you don't need to borrow fire aka passion from someone to light your own candle . They view you as someone who's workaholic and doesn't like to get hindered by the situations around them ,you always like to keep working or moving . You are somone who's always busy or someone who like to be busy or just give the vibe of the busiest person who doesn't have time even for their family's important events. Men view you as someone who's a giver person or maybe people come to you to get advices on their important matters . You give great advices maybe in past you were king's advisor and great kings came to you for your advices on their important matters. Men view you as someone who's like a rising sun ,you add new shine to people's life . Men view you as someone who like to have their proper comfort time too like you've your fixed leisure time where you indulge in your self care and watch movies , grab somethings to eat [possibly fruits and cookies] ,wear your fav dressess acting like you're in movie ? Men are intrigued by your beauty pile 1 , they find you so feminine and pretty. You express your feminine energy in the best way possible. Some men may also view you as their muse . Some of you're incredibly knowledgeable. Please share your knowledge to the world . They're waiting for the mentor like you pile 1 . Men view you as someone who's isn't afraid of obstacles and hardships in life . You always thrive and come outta bad situations even more stronger than before . Men may also perceive you as someone who's like rose pretty but hard to get or protected by thorns maybe you've a certain boundaries set with men . You don't like to overshare about yourself! Men view you as their good companion.That's all pile 1 I hope you enjoy this reading.Wishing you best ,bless you and good luck 💗

Pile 2

Hi pile 2 ,men view you as someone who's backstabber. Another possibility is that you're too kind and men like to backstab you you may take which that suits your taste ! Men view you as someone who's not too indulged in materialistic things they may view you as someone who's like a saint because of that . Men view you as someone who likes naturalness more than the artificialness . Like instead of decorating your house with artificial flower plants you may like to buy some real handpicked flowers and put them in your home . They may also view you as someone who works out a lot maybe your body is perfect and toned pile 2 . They also view you as someone who like to take care of their health physically. You may also like to go on hikings or just long walks on daily basis. There's also this possibility of you using your funds more often and resting at your home sleeping all day . Men view you as someone who likes to gossip or you're talk a lot my chatterboxs . They view you as someone who's like if your friend doesn't like this person and always curse you'll also curse them with them because your friend don't like them lol . Men view you as someone who always have enough so that you can rest for a while . Again an example: you earn so much in 2 months that you can rest for next 6 months without working or thinking about ways to earn . Men view you as someone who's go with the flow person . Men also view you as someone who's friendly with the animals or you may have pets at your home . There's also possibility of you having a backyar garden where lots of natural abundance grow and lots animal come there too . And you may like their sounds . Men may also view you as someone who's more like a night person who feels alive at night more precisely. They may also view you as person who likes to live in their imagination a lot more than in reality. That's all pile 2 I hope you enjoy this reading.Wishing you best ,bless you and good luck 💗I apologise if this reading was all over the place 😭

I hope you liked the reading . Thank you so much for letting me read for you . Wishing you best ahead . 🎀Bless you and have a nice day🌸🐰

Loads of love , jam\gem

Exchanges : open , collabs for paps : open

[retiredteabag]

sorry for informality but i was stalking reading your pinned post and you’re in grad school at twenty!??!!!

unless i’m tripping or misunderstanding something, academic weapon tips please because holy shit that’s insane! what’s ur field of study if you want to talk about it/don’t mind me asking? any application tips/things you wished you knew before getting there/habits you wished you’d formed sooner? independent research has always been difficult for me because of how much i depend on structure (adhd imposter syndrome anxiety lets go) so if you’re working on a thesis/something similar, how has the process been in your experience?

i’m in undergrad atm and heavily debating going further, so i’d love to hear from someone my age who’s actually doing it! also unrelated, but i’m a certified notion/goodnotes girlie if you vibe with those as study resources!

🎸 tagging with an emoji in case i pop back around, yk?

I'm sorry to say, but my tips might come off as sort of typical... but I hope they're at least a little helpful!

I am currently in a masters program within the analytics field. Research/independent studies vary widely depending on the area of specialization, however, my program has an intensive practicum that is similar in nature. I have not started it yet, but what I can say for sure when it comes to research: make sure you are picking a topic that you could speak about for hours/answer argumentative questions about.

For applications, I would say to narrow your options down as much as possible and look into each program before applying. Know the curriculum and standard outline and what stands out to you as you decide.

^ on this same note, you will likely need at least one interview in the application process. Speak slowly and enunciate. Taking a moment to think of the proper words will always be better than speaking quickly without much thought. Most people say to use "down-speak" in these interviews, but in my experience, matching the examiners tone and energy makes the whole thing much more comfortable.

For study tips, I have a large notebook that I keep on my desk where I write down every assignment and the date that it is due. This is just for organization purposes, I find a physical copy helpful for a few reasons but also because crossing them off feels rewarding :]

Time managment is incredibly important. Everyone says this because it is true. Prep everything, organizing your day into chunks. Since you also like structure, this probably wont be an issue. I would also get comfortable with being self-aware of your priorities. There will come a time when you will need to choose between academics/work and other areas of your life.

Keep your spaces clean. Dedicate a day or so to just organizing/doing a deep clean. It will help you stay focused and minimize external anxiety. It’s also much easier to keep a place clean if you have put in such an effort.

Participate in class. I cannot make this clear enough. I promise it is not embarrassing to ask questions or "try". You will learn far easier if you put effort into the classroom/lecture setting.

It is a pretty typical "tip" is to just ask questions. Even if you feel like you might understand, just ask to make sure. And in this same vein, go to office hours if you need to.

Prioritize sleep lol, that and mental rest. You can't always be studying. For me, it is a real challenge to work and be full time in school so it's important to carve out those sections of "you time".

Try not to be on your phone tooooooooo much, I know it’s hard but I make an effort to not be on my phone while eating. Don’t use entertainment as a distraction, I find that it just delays anxiety :(

Lastly, apply for scholarships and know that you absolutely can appeal for more money.

I hope this was useful. Do know that it REALLY depends on your area of study and 5-year-plan. I would recommend not going to grad school unless you're absolutely sure it is worth it.

Good luck!

[simpingforbots]

Big scary grandpa – part 2

Megatron never expected him self to look though archives to refreshes his memories of the past, scaning though letters with new source of hunger for knowledge, hopping that he will get to see you again. Not that it will be hard as he knew your name and your school, so maybe he can try to convince Prime to organize another school meeting. You will be probably pleased to hear even more stories that he dug up from the “treasury of stories”. He was so deep in the history he did not hear the door open and someone walk in.

“Well this is new” it took a lot of strength just not to turn around and fire straight away, letting a quite grunt as he turned to stared down at Elita-one, who seemed to be very happy that she caught him in such tender moment. “Never took you for someone who would willingly spend their free time in archives. You are ususaly etaher by Primes side or in simulation.”

“I have my own reasons” Megatron took a step aside, letting Elita to see what he was reading. Maybe he can ask if any other social occasions were to be expected any time sooner “any word on other social gathering as of right now?”

“There is one, but it months in to the future” Elita glanced at Megatron, who quickly averted the eyes, grining to her self knowing well what was going on. Ever since that “interesting” school trip so THOUGHTFULLY organised by Karen, he seamed to be out of it a bit, spending time reading and doing his best to spend more time with terrans and Malto kids, learning how to behave aorund them in less threatening ways. "I heard that it could be the same school, even the same grade”

Irish sounding bot quickly perked up, his eyes lighting up just a bit more then they used to, his fingers twitching and his sparked warmed up a bit. Well this is nice surprise. Did school liked Prime and Elita this much to organise another gathering? He really did not care, all he cared is that you will be there and maybe, in near future, he can introduce you to other sparkling and kids, putting you under his wing even more. But for now he had to put his thoughts on the shelf as every one was called as some one reported decepticon activity. Letting a bit of grumble and angry that his ex-troops just can’t enjoy peaceful life like Breakdown did, just going out to race, he followed behind Elita-One for the debriefing.

You hated this. Ever since you had a wonderful talk with Megatron, you seamed to become the black sheep of the school, with every one deciding that just because you talked with redeemed Decepticon leader you were a decepticon supporter. Your stuff got stolen, you got pushed around, tripped and slammed in the walls and lockers, food dumped on you, the whole facade. Your parents did their best to get it fixed, but you did not wanted to trouble them. After all one of few reasons you had to change school was because you were being bullied in last school for reasons you never understood, even so kids never needed any reason to bully someone, nothing significant. You sighed heavily as your class and your rival class “B” were signed up for camping for 4 weeks and today you were leaving today. Your backpack was heavy with all the things your parents though needed – some clothes, spare once, some caned food that was for you and you only, first aid, some books about nature and what is safe to eat and to do, a new tent, sleeping back, inflatable matrass and some other stuff. You grunted as you shuffled to wards the buss, knowing that it will be best to seat next to teacher for your own safety. You begged you parents to not let you go on to this trip but they though otherwise, saying that it will give you chance to maybe try and make some friends. Groaning you set in your seat with Miss Roz, who looked like Roz from monster inc, right by you and the bus soon was driving down the road, entering the lush forest.

When the bus finally arrived to the spot, away from the city and any civilisation, the class piled out and started dividing in to groups and setting up their tents. Some kids were not as lucky as you, having to camp with other kids, though they seemd to be happy as they chose their friends and already hyped up. The laughter and chatter quickly filled the air and you started looking for a spot. You tried to be near the main camp but quickly got kicked out by another set of friends, over and over, until you were basicaly on outskirts of the camp site, alone, with no one wanting to share a tent with you, even if there were some kids who needed space. You sighed heavily, slowly setting up your tent, struggling with metal poles and securing the place, constantly looking down in to instruction, lifting the bucklet up and putting it down, over and over, wishing to your self that some kids were not so hateful and could see thing from your perspective. I mean Megatron was once a warlord, but now he completely changed, becoming soft and even initiated the conversation with you.  And it was a very nice conversation with him. You grumbled, fighting with poles, able to hear other students yapping about you being a “decepticon’s slut” or “decepticon supporter”, but you just sighed, fighting the poles. Though you did feel like someone was watching you, not from the back, not human. You lifted your head, staring in to the forest, trying to see just who it was. You stared in to the depth of greenery, still not seeing anything before shrugging and going back to building your tent.

The mission was successful, the swarm of Mandroid’s bugs were easy to deal and even gave Terrance a chance to train again, with them joking that it was something called “1st levels enemies” quickly dealing with them, leaving the “main boss” – Mandroid to him. Sadly Mandroid was a bit more sly and quickly ran away from the battle. It did upset him greatly and to calm down, after returning kids to Dorothy of course, he went for a flight, enjoying the air and space he needed to cool off, time to time looking down. This is when he spotted buss going down the road, heading deep in to the forest. Ususaly he wont pay any attention to it, yet his “greedy” desire to see you again forced him to. He followed it from above, hiding behind clouds and spying on younglings of the humans. The buss pulled in to one of the less known camping sites and kids piled out with few adults, quickly spreading around and setting up their fragile tents, with him landing a bit further away, as to not get attention and spy on the small organics from afar and behind the leaves of trees. He can see adults moving heavier equipment, clearly setting up the main area for meeting and food hall, all while kids were setting up their little tents, dividing in to small groups or two to three. All but one. He watched this one carefully, trying to see who the black sheep was. It was hard to see as this one was constantly chased away from the spots they tried to take, until they were close to where he was hiding, worrying him a but until he go t a better look at them, and a smiled crept up on to his faceplate. It was YOU. Right here, in front of him.

It took every thing in him to not just swipe you right now, this is how happy he was to see you, but he managed to control him self, hiding behind the trees, watching you struggle with the small fabric that will serve you as temporal shelter in this camp site, faling and fumbling with parts, mumbling something under your breath, time to time looking back at the other kids. He can see that you clearly wanted to bond with other kids, yet he can hear even from here what they called you, getting a bit angry at what they were saying. Not all decepticon were bad, they just had bad press, some were quite chill of they were left alone. After some time you managed to finally managed to put your tent up, heading in to it, staying inside for a bit. Seeing this, Megatron decided to head back to make an appearance so that no one will suspect anything.

[gurlwhaaa]

"and I still talk to you, when I'm screaming at the sky". pt.3 Geto Suguru x reader

read the first 2 parts before this if you haven't! <3 ______________________________________________________________

you reached home soaked in your tears and rain water. you wanted to forgive him but, how could you? he was unforgivable. he chose to be unforgivable.

you got out of your wet clothes and replaced them with the softest pajamas you could find. Suguru really liked them, you thought. you weren't going to let the memory of someone ruin your favorite things.

you replayed your interaction with Suguru. you couldn't stop. there was a feeling in your chest. the kind of feeling when you're missing someone. a kind of emptiness where you feel something sucking in.

was he trying to fix things? did he realize that this was unfixable? you wish it was. you wish you didn't hate him. you wish you didn't love him. you wish you hadn't loved him.

you got in bed. mind full with unorganized thoughts. he never let you sleep with something in your mind, you thought wistfully. you closed your eyes making the tears spill out once more. ______________________________________________________________

12:12 read the watch sitting on your bedside table. you had suddenly opened your eyes due to a sound that's source you couldn't figure out the first time until you heard it again. RING

it was your doorbell. who could it be at this time of the night? Satoru? you didn't think it was likely for him to come especially this late, when he had Suguru's company.

you got up drowsily and, unlocked the door. as you opened, you saw a very familiar figure. Suguru. "what are you doing here?!" you about screamed. you stood there in disbelief, waiting for him to answer. he parted his mouth but, no words came out.

"well- uhh-" he started. he didn't need to finish his sentence. you already knew. but, you wanted to hear it from him. "c-can I-" your expression softened. "are you having nightmares again?" you asked, this time softly. he nodded.

"please?" he pleaded. you opened the door wider to let him in. "this doesn't mean we're friends." you clarified. "wouldn't mistake it" he replied. you led him to your bedroom. you got in and he followed. it was nothing sexual.

you let him sleep the night for, it was you who consoled him when he had nightmares only a few years back.

you faced your back at him. you knew he wanted to hug you tight. you knew he wanted you to hug him. you hated him but, you still had a heart. so, reluctantly, you turned around and wrapped your arms around him. "thank you" he mumbled as he wrapped his shaking arms around you.

you ran your hand through his hair as a gesture of comforting him. "do you think you'll ever forgive me?" he asked, breaking the silence. you let out a sigh, "no, I don't know."

"I'll still keep trying." he assured. "you know what you did was unforgivable, Suguru." "you know that I still love you, and why would I give up on someone I love?" he questioned.

"you already gave me up. you clearly didn't love me enough to stay." your voice raised slightly. "I did what I had to do." he'd already lost the argument. "are you here to sleep or to try lure me back because I'm wrapped around your fingers huh?" you asked.

"I wouldn't stoop that low." he replied. "I think you would." you turned around facing your back to him, again as your arms left him. his hands were still clutched around your waist.

after a while, you felt his grip loosen. he probably had fallen asleep. you felt his face against your back. you turned around and distanced yourself. he had his hair down and free which was unlikely of him, as he would never sleep with his hair down.

you got up a got a rubber band. you gently pulled his hair back and lightly tied it. the pale moonlight fell on his face. he looked.. beautiful. you weren't thinking as you caressed his face, his hair, your finger dropped to his lips.

you weren't thinking as you leaned in, to kiss his lips. it was all you wanted to do, until, you felt him kiss back. he was awake?! you broke it off. embarrassed, you scattered back as you saw his eyes opening. he looked innocent, like a child. but he wasn't innocent, you remembered.

"s-sorry" you apologized. "I didn't mind it." he reassured. he sat up. "were you pretending to sleep?" you asked. "no. I woke up when you tied my hair." shit. you forgot that he sleeps light. "I'm sorry." you apologized again. "got carried away with my pretty face?" he smirked.

"oh shut up" you said as you lied down again with your blanket covering your face and, once again, your back facing him. you could feel him lie down too.

minutes passed, you couldn't sleep.

"you aren't asleep." he guessed. "I'm not." you replied. "do you still love me?" he asked. "I'm not answering that", was your reply. "you still do. you still think of me. you still want to kiss me." he said, this time with all seriousness.

"it was one time. I got carried away." you wanted to cry. "what if you could get carried away more than one time without having to say sorry?" "but, that would mean forgiving you Suguru and, I'm not doing that anytime soon."

"you don't have to forgive me, you just have to try me again." he corrected. you had turned towards him. "but, what if, I forgive you if I try you once again?" you questioned. "then I will be forgiven."

you stared into him for a while and he did the same. you gave in. you leaned in and met his lips with yours. he reciprocated. hands entangled on each other.

"thank you" he murmured between kisses. "I hate you" you replied. the future may be unknown but, if you didn't give it a shot, you will never know how it ends.