#yeah this is about as embarrassing as i expected it to be

[paucubarsisimp]

reader x oscar where oscar reconnects with a old female friend and kind of neglects reader a little bit, at the beginning y/n gets hurt but ends up deciding to get a male friend to “make things even” so oscar gets really jealous, realizes what he’s been doing and tries to make things right? happy ending pls and maybe don’t make reader forgive him that easily?

second place

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: in which you feel mia is more important than you…

warnings: none

you didn’t expect things to change so quickly.

one minute, you and oscar were solid — late-night facetimes, good luck kisses before qualifying, sleepy grins under hotel duvets. being with him felt like quiet gravity. not loud or dramatic, just right. steady.

and then came mia.

the girl from karting days. the one who could talk race setups and tire strategies in the same breath she joked about oscar’s twelve-year-old mullet.

you weren’t threatened at first. oscar had always been honest. you weren’t insecure.

but it’s hard to stay secure when you go three days without more than a “hey, sorry, busy today” text… and then check instagram to see him tagged in a selfie with her, laughing over sushi.

you didn’t confront him right away. you weren’t that person. you trusted him — or at least, you wanted to.

but when you showed up at the paddock that friday, his reaction said everything.

he didn’t light up the way he used to.

he smiled — polite, distracted. his arm slung around mia’s shoulders like second nature.

you didn’t know whether to feel angry or embarrassed.

maybe both.

you brought it up that night, quietly, after dinner.

“she’s really been around a lot lately.”

oscar shrugged, pulling his shirt over his head. “yeah, she’s doing a piece for f1tv. like, a feature thing. it’s temporary.”

you nodded. “just… feels like you’ve kind of forgotten i exist.”

he froze for a second. “y/n, come on. don’t start this.”

that was what hurt the most — not the time he was spending with her. the fact that he brushed off your pain. as if it wasn’t real.

you went to bed with your back to him. he didn’t reach for you.

you didn’t plan to make him jealous.

you didn’t even think of marcus that way — not at first.

he was the boy who used to walk you home from school, steal fries from your lunch tray, accidentally-on-purpose hold your hand during horror movies.

you hadn’t seen him in years. but when you bumped into him at a café near the paddock, it felt like a reset. like someone was seeing you again.

like you weren’t invisible.

oscar didn’t notice you were smiling more that weekend.

but he did notice marcus.

especially when you invited him to the post-race celebration. especially when marcus leaned close to tell you a joke, and you laughed with your whole body — the way you used to laugh with oscar.

he caught your wrist later that night, voice tense. “is this supposed to be a message?”

you stared at him. “no. but i guess it’s working.”

the fight came two days later.

oscar had been cold. distant. until he snapped.

“so what, you just bring some guy around to get my attention? that’s mature.”

your blood ran hot. “don’t pretend you have the high ground when you’ve been mia’s shadow for three weeks!”

“she’s a friend, y/n!”

“so is marcus! or is it only okay when you’re the one doing the ignoring?”

oscar looked at you like he didn’t recognize you. and you realized — he didn’t. because he hadn’t really seen you in weeks.

“i don’t care about mia,” he said, voice strained.

“but you cared more about making her laugh than asking if i was okay.”

that shut him up.

it took time after that.

oscar started showing up again — really showing up.

small things. bringing you coffee before interviews. watching your face instead of his phone. apologizing, not with flowers, but by listening.

you let him back in slowly. not because he begged — but because he changed.

and one night, while you sat on his balcony overlooking monaco’s coast, his fingers laced with yours, he said:

“i got used to you always being there. like i couldn’t lose you. like you’d always wait.”

you didn’t answer right away.

then: “don’t give me a reason to leave, and i won’t.”

his hand tightened in yours. “you’re not second place. not to anyone. not ever again.”

you believed him. not because he said it — but because this time, he meant it.

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, lmk if you want to be added!

[qivrae]

static - nsfw

spencer reid x afab!reader

a/n: 😲😲😲😲 phone sex with reid (inbox open, please request)

You’re just about to fall asleep when your phone buzzes softly against the pillow. The screen lights up with a contact photo you didn’t realize you’d memorized—Spencer, blurry and smiling, probably mid-laugh from the day you took it. You answer without hesitation. “Hey,” you murmur, voice still heavy with sleep. There’s a pause, like maybe he didn’t expect you to pick up so quickly. When he speaks, his voice is low and hoarse but gentle in the way only he can manage.

“Did I wake you?”

You turn onto your back, staring at the ceiling with a sleepy smile. “Kind of. But it’s okay.” He exhales into the line and something about the sound makes your stomach flutter. It’s not relief, exactly. More like… release. Like hearing your voice made something inside him loosen.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he says finally. “Too much noise in my head. I didn’t want to be alone with it.”

You tug the blanket up to your chest. “Rough case?”

“Yeah,” he says. And that one word carries so much: long hours, too many victims, the weight of responsibility he always takes on alone. “We’re just in the waiting phase now. Interviews are done. Morgan and Hotch are going over timelines. It’s a lot of hurry-up-and-wait.”

“And you’re in a motel?” you ask, already picturing it: a dimly lit room, stiff sheets, the hum of a bad AC unit in the background.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Small town. Two-star situation. The mattress feels like cardboard.”

You smile softly. “Poor baby.”

“I’m not fishing for sympathy,” he says, a little defensively.

“No,” you tease, “but you’re definitely hoping I’ll say something to make you forget it.” He’s quiet again.

Then a little rougher, “Maybe.” There’s a shift in his breathing. Something you wouldn’t notice if you didn’t know him so well but you do. It’s subtle, barely there but it makes your heart thump. You recognize that sound. That shallow inhale like he’s trying not to let it show.

Your voice drops. “Spence. What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he answers too quickly. Then, quieter, “Just… thinking.”

You smirk against the phone. “Thinking about me?” You swear you can hear him swallow.

“Yes.” Another pause. This one longer. And when he speaks again, his voice is soft but not shy. Not embarrassed. Just real. “I’m sorry. I know it’s late. I didn’t call to— I wasn’t trying to make it weird.”

“You didn’t,” you say, sitting up slightly, your pulse starting to pick up. “It’s not weird. I like knowing you think about me like that.” He doesn’t say anything at first. But the sound of him breathing shifts again, deeper now. More purposeful. “Tell me what you’re doing,” you murmur.

A beat. Then slowly, carefully: “I’m just… lying on the bed. Still dressed. But I—” he pauses like he’s deciding how much to give away. “I have my hand over myself.”

Your breath catches. “Are you hard?”

“Yes.” You press your thighs together under the sheets, already warm from just imagining it. Spencer in some creaky motel bed, trying not to get too into it because his team is down the hall.

“Touch yourself,” you whisper. “I want to hear what it sounds like when you do.” There’s a hitch in the line—movement, maybe fabric shifting or his hand adjusting.

“I—okay,” he says breathlessly. “I’m… pressing against the shaft. Through my pants right now. Applying slight pressure—uh—engorgement of the corpora cavernosa has already occurred, so stimulation is…” He trails off, like he just realized what he’s doing.

You laugh softly. “You’re giving me a lecture, Doctor Reid.”

“I know,” he groans, embarrassed. “I can’t help it. I—It’s just how I process. When I get nervous or—aroused—my brain defaults to clinical terminology. I—fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you breathe. “It’s hot.”

He lets out a choked laugh. “You’re the only person on Earth who would say that.”

“Maybe,” you tease, “but I’m the only one who gets to hear it, so I’d say that works out.”

He’s breathing harder now, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’m unzipping my pants. It’s… a little awkward lying like this. But I can feel the friction through my boxers. It’s—god, it’s warm. I’m leaking already.”

Your stomach flips. “I haven’t even touched myself tonight,” you whisper, running a hand slowly down your body beneath the sheets. “I was waiting for you to call.” You hear a low sound from him—almost like a whimper but he catches it before it escapes fully.

“I wanted to hear your voice,” he says, voice thick. “But now I can’t stop picturing your hands. Your mouth.”

“Mmm. You like when I use my mouth, don’t you?” You ask and his breath stutters.

“I think about it too much. Sometimes during briefings. During flights. I’ll remember the way you looked up at me from between my legs and I— I can’t focus.”

You moan quietly. “Tell me more.”

“I—I can’t get enough of the way you hum when you’re doing it. Or how your fingers dig into my thighs. You’re so soft and warm and—fuck—I’m touching myself now.”

You squeeze your legs together, slick already pooling in your panties as his voice drips into your ear like molasses. “How?” you ask breathlessly.

“My fingers,” he pants. “Wrapped around the base. I’m stroking slow, not too tight yet. The pressure is increasing blood flow but—fuck—there’s already too much. It’s… overstimulating.”

“Do you want me to slow you down?”

“No,” he whispers. “Don’t stop. Don’t let me stop.” There’s a tension in your chest now, rising with every breath he takes.

You slide your own hand lower, easing the ache that’s been building since the second he said your name.“Spencer…”

“I keep picturing you with your hand between your thighs,” he gasps.

“It is,” you breathe. “I’m touching myself, Spence. I’m so wet just listening to you.”

He groans, a low sound that rips through the speaker. “I’m close,” he chokes out. “Already. But I don’t want to come yet. I want to listen to you. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“I’m pulsing,” you murmur. “My fingers are soaked. I wish it were yours. I wish I could slide you inside me right now, slow and deep.”

“Fuck.” You hear the bed creak beneath him, hear his sharp inhale as he tries to keep control. He’s falling apart but he’s not there yet—not quite. And neither are you. So you both breathe into the silence. Desperate. Flushed. Teetering on the edge. Spencer’s breath is heavy in your ear. It’s the kind of sound that tightens your stomach and makes you ache, like he’s caught between wanting to speak and not wanting to break the fragile control he’s still holding onto. You can’t help the rush of heat that spreads through you at his small curses. He’s fighting his body, fighting the need to come, all while trying to be considerate of you. It’s so damn Spencer.

You whisper, running your hand over your body, mimicking the movements you know he’s making. “You need to let go a little, don’t you?” He gasps, the sound cutting off abruptly. You hear the shift of his body as his hand speeds up, the friction becoming more intense.

For a long moment, he doesn’t answer. You wonder if he’s going to try to hold back, but when he finally speaks, his voice is raw, needy. “I—I don’t want to come yet,” he confesses, so quietly that you almost miss it. “I don’t want to rush it.”

“Then slow down,” you tell him, your hand slowly moving beneath your sheets in tandem with the rhythm of his voice.

He breathes a shaky laugh escaping him. “It’s hard. It’s really hard.”

“I know, baby,” you murmur, the word slipping out without thought. “It’s hard for me too.” There’s a slight catch in his breath, a slight trembling and you know he’s fighting with everything he has to keep himself in check.

“I… I can’t explain it. It’s not just the physical… it’s the mental stimulation. The proprioceptive feedback is off the charts. I’m—fuck, I’m getting lightheaded just talking about it.”

You can’t help but laugh at his attempt to keep things academic, even now. “You’re so hot when you do that,” you tell him, voice thick with desire. “I think I might get off just listening to you try to sound all scientific while you’re on the edge of losing it.”

He groans at that, and you can almost see his face, flushed with embarrassment, as he shifts around in his bed. “I—I’m sorry. I don’t know how else to—”

You cut him off gently. “You don’t have to apologize, Spence. I love hearing you like this. You can let go. You can talk to me, tell me exactly what you need.” He takes a shaky breath and for a moment, you think he’s going to argue or retreat back into his overly-analytical shell but then he says your name, low and desperate. The desperation in his voice makes your heart race. You’ve never heard him like this—raw and open, breaking away from his usual restraint. You’re so close to pushing him past that edge. You don’t let him finish his sentence. Instead, you keep him on the brink. “Tell me what you need, Spencer,” you whisper, your voice thick with anticipation. “You’ve got me right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I need you to…” he starts, but his words get stuck in his throat. “I need you to make me feel good. I don’t want to—fuck, I need to feel you.” Your pulse quickens as you hear the vulnerability in his voice.

“You can feel me, Spence. I’m right here. You just have to focus. Focus on how good you feel right now.”

“I’m trying,” he whispers and there’s that catch in his voice again. “I just—fuck, I don’t think I can hold back much longer.”

Your body aches at his words as you whisper back, “Let go for me. Let me hear you.” Spencer’s breath hitches again, faster. Like he’s teetering on the edge. You’re both so close. So close. But he’s still holding back, still refusing to let go completely. You feel the tension, the urgency in his voice. You’re both quiet for a moment now. Just breathing. And even through the static of the phone, you can hear every soft puff of air he exhales. Every subtle shift of movement on that scratchy motel bedsheet. He’s being so good. He speaks up through the groans. Just your name. It’s broken but like it’s the only word left in his vocabulary. You press the phone tighter to your ear and close your eyes, your free hand sliding between your legs as your voice softens. “Still with me, baby?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, hoarse. “I’m just—my hand’s shaking.”

“How long have you been like this?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

There’s a beat before he says, “Since before I called you.”

Your heart flutters. You shift in bed, biting back a moan. “That long?”

He hums a pitiful little yes. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I tried to, but everything felt… empty. Like my skin was too tight. I—I kept getting hard every time I thought about your voice. About your hands. About the last time we—” He cuts himself off with a sharp inhale. You know he’s fighting, hard. Harder than he should be.

“Spencer,” you murmur, “you’ve been so good for me. So patient. But I don’t want you to hold back anymore.” He exhales like he’s just been told he can finally breathe. “Come,” you whisper. The word is barely out of your mouth before you hear him fall apart on the other end of the line. The soft, slick sounds of his hand meeting skin. The choked gasp that gets caught in his throat. The deep, trembling groan like it’s been trapped in his chest for hours.

“F-fuck,” he hisses, his voice breaking. “It’s—it’s too much, God.” You can hear the rhythm. He’s fast. Desperate. Probably fucking into his own hand with nowhere near the control he had earlier. You let your fingers glide through your own slick heat and sigh into the phone.

“Does it feel good, baby?” His breath hitches again.

“Yes, it’s—I’m gonna—”

“Yeah?” you coo, “Feels so good, hmm?” A strained whine escapes him.

“It’s—it’s throbbing. It’s pre-cum. My whole body feels like—like I’m on fire. My hand is wet, I don’t—I don’t even know how much came out, it’s so fucking sensitive and I’m—I’m gonna lose it.”

“You’re doing so well,” you breathe. “I’m touching myself too, Spence. You’ve got me so wet.”

He whimpers. “Please,” You feel your own orgasm building, slow and steady like a wave about to crash. You want to finish with him. You want to feel it in his voice when it finally hits him. You don’t even get another word out before he gasps so loud it cuts through the speaker, his breath catching in his throat as he falls over the edge. It’s not even a groan—it’s a sound you’ve never heard before. Desperate, stunned, overwhelmed. You hear the wet slap of his hand faltering, the breathless moans as he rides it out.

“ah— please.” he keeps saying your name like it’s the only thing tethering him to reality. And that’s what sends you over. You press the phone harder to your ear, hips stuttering against your hand as your orgasm hits you like a tremor. Your whole body arches as you cry out, biting your lip to keep quiet but knowing he hears it—feels it—because you can hear him panting through his own aftershocks. It’s messy. Loud. Intimate in a way that phone sex usually isn’t. Neither of you talk for a while. Just the sounds of two people on opposite sides of a phone line, breathing like they’ve just been pulled from underwater.

Eventually, Spencer breaks the silence with a soft laugh. “That was… wow.” You smile, sinking back into your bed.

“Yeah. Wow.” He’s still breathless but there’s a note of wonder in his voice, like he’s not entirely sure that just happened. “I’ve never… I mean— that was…”

“Good?” you offer. He laughs again, quieter this time.

“Yeah. Very.” You imagine him lying there, hand limp on his chest, flushed and dazed and probably trying to mentally calculate how many calories he just burned. It makes you ache with affection.

“You okay?” you ask gently.

“More than okay,” he says and you can hear the smile in his voice. “I just… wish I could hold you right now.”

You let out a breath, soft and sincere. “Me too.”There’s a pause before you sheepishly ask, “Think you can sleep now?”

He hums. “Eventually. I’ll probably fall asleep picturing you.”

You laugh softly. “Pervert.”

“Your fault,” he says, voice already thick with sleep. And it is. And you’re okay with that.

[jayblades]

practice round

dick grayson x fem!reader

summary; when some guy takes an interest in you, your extremely thoughtful best friend dick convinces you that you need a little more… experience. and who better to help you practice, than himself?

warnings; 18+, manipulation, yandere-lite themes… best friends <3 nsfw, reader is inexperienced, but not a virgin, possessiveness, fem!reader, oral (fem receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill)

author’s note; felt depraved things writing this… if you enjoy then let me know!

You’re sat on your bed, curled up near the edge where Dick is sprawled out on the floor beside you, scrolling through his phone.

He noticed a slight shift in your behaviour about ten minutes ago when you’d received a notification on your phone. He wonders if you’re going to tell him about it — he supposes it doesn’t really matter if you don’t. He’ll just look through it later, but of course he wants you to be the one to share.

You look so nervous, knees drawn up to your chest like you’re trying to make yourself smaller. It’s adorable. It’s pathetic. It makes something sharp twist in Dick’s stomach.

Finally, you blurt it out. “So… this guy asked me out.”

Dick stills, his finger hovering over his phone screen as he freezes in place. “Yeah? Who?”

You say his name like you’re embarrassed and Dick smiles, slow and easy. But inside, he’s seething. It takes a lot to keep his expression carefully neutral. He’s heard you talk about this guy before, offhandedly calling him cute. He has no idea you may have possibly been forming a crush on him.

You hug your pillow against your chest and scrunch up your nose. “He’s so… popular. You know? Good looking. Everyone’s obsessed with him, so I don’t know…”

“Sure,” Dick mumbles, pretending to focus on his Instagram feed again. “He’s been with… what, half the senior class?”

You wince. Dick thanks the universe in this moment that the guy who has taken an interest in you is basically a manwhore. It’s going to make this so much easier.

“Yeah,” you say, nodding slowly. “Yeah, I guess. He’s really, uh, experienced.”

Dick turns around to face you properly. He scans your face, assessing the way you bite at your lip and look down, your gaze faraway somewhere. “Wait, you’re nervous.”

He forces himself to sound surprised, but of course he knows you’re nervous. He’s banking on it, in fact.

You nod, sighing as you lean back on your bed. “What if I’m not enough for him in… y’know, that area. He’s probably used to girls who know what they’re doing and I’ve barely even—”

“Hey, hey,” Dick cuts you off, getting up to take a seat next to you on the bed and reaching a hand out to lightly squeeze your knee. “You’re more than enough, sweetheart.”

He means that. You’re way more than that jackass deserves. Dick has heard how he’s talked about women before. Even if this guy wasn’t scum, there’s no way in hell Dick is going to let him have you. The gears in his mind are already turning and there’s a growing excitement in his lower belly that he can hardly contain.

“You just said that he’s been with so many people,” you point out, frowning at him.

Dick sighs, like it pains him to say it. “Yeah, well. Sure, he’s probably used to certain things. Stuff he’s probably expecting without even thinking about it. But that isn’t your fault.”

You stare at him, looking utterly crestfallen. He can practically hear your heart sinking and it only spurs him on as he shifts closer to you, dropping his voice into something more intimate and safe.

“Any guy would be lucky to have you. You know that right?”

“Thanks, Dick,” you mumble, trying to smile. But he’s not done.

“It’s just guys like him,” Dick continues slowly and deliberately, carefully choosing his words. “They get bored really fast. If something feels too new… too awkward…”

He trails off, allowing the implication to hang heavy between you. Dick is well aware that you’re not a virgin, but you may as well be. He’s talking bullshit, obviously. He knows that this guy would kill to have you in his bed and that your lack of experience would only make you more appealing to his sick mind. Dick would know, considering his mind is even sicker when it comes to you. The difference is that you actually mean something to Dick.

“Oh,” you whisper, dropping your gaze. You look disappointed and Dick knows exactly what to say next.

“Look, if you’re that worried,” he starts, sighing like you’ve presented him with a problem. “You could always practice.”

You blink at him, startled. “Practice?”

He smiles at you, all warm and encouraging like he’s offering you a life raft. “Yeah. To get comfortable. Figure out what you like, what feels good. What to do. So that when it matters, you’re not nervous.”

You let out a nervous laugh, hesitating. “I guess. But, with who?”

Dick shrugs, noncommittal. “Me, if you want.”

As expected, you whip your head up to gape at him, wide-eyed and shocked. “What?”

He rolls his eyes, as though what you’re saying is silly. “Don’t make it weird,” he chuckles under his breath, keeping his hand on your knee. “We’re best friends. You trust me, right?”

You open your mouth, like you’re about to argue but then you shut it. Because you do trust him — you always have. “Yeah, I do, but—”

“Doesn’t have to mean anything,” he says, softening his voice even more. Every word coming out of his mouth is a lie, but they’re necessary, really. You don’t know what you want yet, which is exactly why he’s here to help. “And wouldn’t you want to practice with someone you’re comfortable with? Someone who only wants to make you feel good and confident. To teach you how to make someone happy.”

Lies, lies, lies. He has no intention of letting that happen.

Dick starts to stroke your wrist, thumb gliding lazy circles over your pulse like he’s trying to calm you down. Judging by the way it quickens, he’s doing the opposite and he has to fight to hide his grin.

Your voice cracks when you finally whisper back. “You really think it’ll help?”

“Yeah, but it’s totally up to you. You don’t have to decide right now,” he says lightly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and marvelling at how your gaze is tracking his every movement. “If you’re already this nervous…”

Your voice comes out impossibly small. “What would we even do?”

Dick’s mouth twitches as he tries not to smile triumphantly. He’s got you exactly where he wants and he’s elated.

“We can just kiss for now,” he murmurs, brushing a thumb over your lips, immediately making them part. Fuck, he’s going to have a hard time stopping if that’s all you want to do. “Whatever you want.”

After hesitating for a second and testing Dick’s patience, you finally nod. It’s shy, barely a movement of your head, but you’re smiling at him and Dick feels it go straight to his groin.

“Okay, then,” he murmurs, agreeable like you’ve coaxed him into it. “Do you want to set the pace, or should I?”

Your shoulders relax a little at the kindness in his voice and you swallow. “You… you can.”

He almost groans at your words. So submissive, so willing. You’re giving him permission to do what he wants and oh, he’s going to take it.

Dick gently positions you so that you’re facing him a little closer, sneaking his hand around to your back like he’s done a million times. Except this time, he gently lifts up your chin and offers you a reassuring smile and you can’t help returning it, albeit nervously. It’s Dick after all — your best friend in the whole world. And he’s such a good one for helping you out, right?

As if you’re getting impatient, you glance down at his lips and he decides that’s enough playing around.

Dick leans forward and brushes his lips against yours to test the waters. When you don’t move away, he presses his mouth to yours and your eyes flutter shut.

You’re a little stiff at first, hesitant and unsure as you allow Dick to lead. And he’s more than happy to show you.

He tilts his head slightly, deepening the kiss as his hand slips back to cradle the back of your neck. His fingers tangle in your hair, fully controlling your movements and you let out the tiniest, most helpless whimper he’s ever heard from you.

Dick nearly loses it there and then.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to speak, and his lips brush yours with every word. “You can kiss me back, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice coaxing and patient. He brushes his knuckles against your spine and swallows hard when you instinctively arch up into him. “Just… follow what I do.”

You nod, your expression dazed and faraway and when he leans in again, you press your mouth to his in a soft kiss.

Dick smiles against you, rewarding you by slanting his mouth more firmly against yours. This time he lets the kiss linger, letting you feel his warmth, the careful way he parts his lips to guide you how to breathe through it.

When you mimic him, he hums low in his throat, the noise vibrating against your lips.

“Good girl,” he whispers, barely pulling back, his voice rough with approval. “You’re doing so good for me.”

Your lips turn up, a shy smile gracing your face as you shiver slightly. “Thank you,” you mumble out, like you’re embarrassed.

Dick has manipulated you into kissing him and you’re thanking him. He’s so giddy he could burst.

Instead he settles for kissing you again, even deeper as his hands slide down to your hips where they lightly squeeze. The action makes you gasp softly against the kiss and he uses it, sliding his tongue against your bottom lip.

You stiffen, unsure and he immediately soothes you, hand against the side of your thigh. Your nerves are so cute. Almost as cute as the strawberry lipgloss that he’s tasting, which he knows is your favourite.

“Open up for me, baby,” he murmurs, voice dripping with patience. “Just a little. Let me in.”

You part your lips, all hesitant and sweet and Dick rewards you immediately by slipping his tongue in your mouth. You melt against him some more and he takes it as a sign to go further until he’s licking into your mouth, kissing you like he’s trying to eat you alive.

He’s borderline devouring you, getting hungrier when he feels you start to move with him, gasping into his mouth and making soft, pleased noises.

Dick can feel how overwhelmed you already are when you helplessly reach out to grab the fabric of his t-shirt, clutching him like a lifeline. He needs more.

Pulling back far enough to speak, he tries to control his own breathing. It’s just so hard when he’s this excited. “When a guy really likes a girl…” he says lowly. “He won’t wanna stop at just kissing. You wanna make sure you’re ready for all of that?”

You stiffen for a second and Dick decides to change his tune, gently kissing your forehead like he always does and begins to shift back a little.

“I mean, we don’t have to,” he relents, trying to sound as flippant as he possibly can when his hard on is painfully straining against his jeans. He begins to slide his hands away from your body as though he’s unaffected. As though his jaw isn’t clenched from the restraint of not touching you. “We can stop.”

“No!” Your hands shoot out to hold his own in place where they grip your waist and your eyes don’t leave his mouth for a second. Your’e panting softly, lips swollen and bitten — courtesy of Dick — and your eyes are glassy. “I— we don’t have to stop… I want to keep going. Please.”

Who is he to deny you when you ask so sweetly?

“Whatever you want,” he agrees, voice calm as ever. But his blood is hot and he���s trying so hard not to rip off your clothes and fuck you into the mattress until your bed is broken in half. All in good time, he tells himself as he guides you further back. “Lie down for me?”

You rest your head against your pillows obediently and Dick runs his hands up your sides, slowly and teasingly. “I’m going to take off your shirt now.”

Nodding, you lift up your arms when he begins to peel away your oversized t-shirt, shrugging it over your head to toss it to the ground. Dick’s eyes don’t leave your chest and it’s like he’s a man possessed when he immediately leans down to drop kisses to your neck and down your chest, grazing the swell of your breasts.

“So, so pretty,” he mumbles against your skin, his hands sliding behind your back to fumble with your bra clasp. You don’t stiffen this time and he takes it as permission to unclasp it before sliding your straps down your arms and leaning back to stare at you. “Fuck…”

You shrink under his gaze, trying to place your hands over your chest when he doesn’t move, and the action snaps him out of it.

“Don’t cover up,” he instructs, impatiently brushing your hands away before looking directly into your eyes. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

A little laugh leaves you, like you don’t believe him and he decides it’s high time to convince you. Ducking his head down, Dick immediately swipes his tongue across your hardened nipple and you hiss, hand flying up to muffle your gasps as he starts to suck. Everywhere. He’s biting and licking at your chest, purposely leaving marks. If you try and do this with anyone else, they’ll know he was here first with all the blossoming bruises he’s sucking onto your skin.

Your gasps are coming out too quietly for his liking.

“No, don’t cover your mouth,” he says firmly, circling your wrists with his much larger hands to guide them away and pin them to your sides. “Guys like it when you’re noisy.”

Translation: Dick wants to hear you scream.

He returns his mouth to your body, this time venturing lower as he peppers kisses to your stomach. Lower and lower until he’s at the waistband of your shorts. He kisses around your belly button, nipping at your skin to distract you from your nerves as he slides the shorts down your legs.

You’re not even protesting anymore. In fact, you’re eager as you kick the item of clothing off your body. Dick huffs out a laugh against your belly when he sees your pink cherry-print panties. He recognises them from all the times he’s rifled through your underwear draw — it’s his favourite pair.

“Stop laughing,” you say breathlessly as you playfully tug on a strand of Dick’s hair. “It’s laundry day.”

“No, it’s cute,” he says, completely serious as you roll your eyes. The attitude you give him makes him want to fuck it out of you and so he swipes his thumb across the centre of your panties, right where your clit is, pulling a breathless sound from you. “So, so cute.”

You’re already soaked through the pink and red fabric, your wetness forming a damp spot visible through your panties and he grins. Shit, he’s barely touched you.

Dick props up your legs for better access and tugs at your panties, sliding them down to your ankles and then he groans.

He sounds like you’ve just sucker-punched him and before you have the time to process it, Dick sinks a finger into you easily and without any friction.

You’re so wet that it slides right in and the sounds that leave your lips make Dick’s mouth water. You’re gasping on choked breaths as he moves in and out of you, dragging his digit against your walls.

“So responsive,” he exhales, keeping a slow pace as not to overwhelm you. It only lasts a second though, as he can’t help wondering what other noises he can get out of you. His other hand comes up to start circling at your clit and your hand flys up to grab at his inky black locks.

“Oh, sh…shit. Dick, oh my God,” you whimper as the double stimulation makes your body twitch. You’re so consumed by pleasure that you probably don’t realise how hard you’re pulling on his hair — it’s a good thing he likes it. “Oh, please…”

He thinks he could die right now, hearing you beg him. For what, you don’t sound sure, but he obliges you with something. That something being a second finger which slides in almost as easily as the first.

The whine that leaves you is music to his ears and he pumps his fingers in and out, stretching you open in preparation. “Good?”

His question is teasing, since he can tell from the way your eyes are screwed shut that you do think it’s good. You nod nonetheless, whimpering out a “Yeah, so good. S-so good, Dick.”

Dick hums, increasing his pace absentmindedly as his erection brushes against your sheets. He’s practically humping your duvet, it’s pathetic. But he can’t bring himself to feel shameful about it when you’re looking so fucked out before him and he’s barely even done anything.

Fuck, he’s nearly drooling and so he decides the only thing to do is remove his hand from your clit. Your eyes flutter open at the loss of contact, despite his fingers still moving inside of you.

“Wait, what are you— Nngh.”

Dick flattens his tongue against your cunt and drags it up over your clit. You cry out, tangling your fingers further in his hair and keeping his head between your legs. Not that you need to when he’s eating you out like a man starved.

His tongue is moving against you like you’re his last meal while his fingers curl upwards into your pussy, making your eyes prick with tears. The second he starts sucking at your clit, you arch off the bed and helplessly grind against his face, covering his chin in your slick.

Dick moans into your cunt, pulling away a little to ask you in between licks. “Are you close, sweetheart?”

When he doesn’t hear an answer, his fingers pause in their movements and he lifts his head up to look at you.

“I— I don’t know,” you whisper, breathing heavily. “I’ve never… y’know, I haven’t—”

You’ve never had an orgasm

It feels like Dick’s luckiest day alive, he thinks to himself and he can’t help the wicked grin that splits across his face. His slides his fingers out of you, making you whine and his grin widens as he climbs over you, swiping a hand over his mouth before pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” he says soothingly, starting to pepper kisses over your cheek and jaw. “We still have more practicing. You’re going to cum on my cock for the first time, okay?”

“Okay.” Your response is almost immediate and he huffs out a laugh at how willing you are now. Any hesitation has since left you and Dick doesn’t have to convince you to do anything.

Not when you’re tugging at his shirt to take it off, which he happily obliges, reaching behind his back with one hand to shrug it over his head.

You exhale shakily, reaching out tentatively to trail your fingers over the sculpted lines of his chest, the hard ridges of muscle and the soft scattering of dark hair trailing down to disappear into his jeans.

“You’re beautiful too,” you say under your breath with a shy smile and he lets out a broken laugh, rough and shaky, grabbing your wrist and bringing it to his lips to press a kiss at your pulse point.

He’s going to absolutely ruin you.

When your hand drags down his abdomen and further down to his waistband, Dick shudders — a harsh tremor wracking through his body.

“Fuck,” he mutters, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. “Take off my jeans.”

Your fingers fumble to unbutton them and before he knows it, he’s tugging them off and you’re looking down at his cock straining impossibly hard against his boxers.

Dick doesn’t need to instruct you this time, and you’re hastily undressing him, allowing his achingly hard cock to spring free. You let out a breath at the sight of him, his leaking tip practically sore from neglect.

Your hands come up to hesitantly wrap around him, dragging his precum down his length to better stroke him. You do it painfully slow and he hisses through gritted teeth, jerking his hips into your hand which is so, so tiny compared to him.

“Am I doing this right?”

Your quizzical voice nearly makes him buckle, and he decides he’s had enough of not being inside of you.

“You’re perfect,” he promises, sliding a hand up the expanse of your thigh to squeeze your ass. “You’re more than perfect, but if you keep going, I’m going to cum all over your hand and that’s not what we’re practising today.”

You give him a sheepish smile, removing your warm hand and letting it rest by your side while he hovers over you.

Dick glances over your naked frame and nearly sighs aloud at the sight, leaning down to kiss your temple. “Are you ready?”

“Ready,” you say, nodding at him to continue.

Dick brings his length to your cunt and drags it up and down once to cover the tip in your slick, marvelling at the natural lubricant. He’s not going to need anything else to slip right in and when your body twitches at the feeling of his head dragging against your clit, he smirks.

And then he slips the tip right into you, slowly working you through the delicious burn as you gasp. In the back of his mind, he’s a little bit concerned that you haven’t bothered to ask him to wear a condom (not that he was going to — he knows exactly what birth control you’re on, it’s fine), but your compliance is so naive. He’s glad it’s just for him.

“Ohhh, fuck. You’re doing so well, you can take it,” he grunts out, trying to go further in as slow as possible. His hands are clenched around your sheets as he slowly pushes and pushes deeper into you. “You were made for this, weren’t you? Huh? You gonna take all of me?”

“Yes, please, please, please,” you mutter, voice hoarse and nearly inaudible.

“Please what?” Dick stills, not moving another inch as he freezes halfway inside of you. “What do you want me to do, baby? Use your words.”

“Dick,” you rasp out, trying to buck your hips up for more, but Dick grabs your waist and pins you down. You can’t move an inch when he does this. “Please, please, I want more!”

He leans down to chuckle in your ear before he buries himself into you, sinking all the way down to the hilt.

He only gives you a few seconds to adjust before he’s pulling out and slamming back into you. The cry that leaves you is so beautiful and Dick wants to hear it again and again and so, all of a sudden, he’s driving his hips right into you with a desperation.

His cock is stretching you out more than his fingers ever could and you’re so wonderfully tight that Dick can feel every last inch of your velvety walls wrapped around him, sucking him in like something vicious and needy.

You’re practically incoherent now, the whimpers that leave you are basically sobs as Dick fucks into you hard and fast.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he grits out, sweaty curls falling into his eyes as he doesn’t falter in his thrusts. He leans down to press his body against yours as he continues to pound your hot, weeping cunt. “You’re a fucking natural, you know that? You don’t need the practice, you’re perfect. He doesn’t even deserve you. Fuck, he doesn’t deserve to look at you, let alone fuck you.”

Dick’s control and flippant attitude is slipping as he mumbles the words against your skin, but what else can you expect when you’re scraping your nails down his back and pressing your tits against his chest? He doesn’t even care about fucking you under the guise of practice anymore and instead he’s whispering cruelly into your ear.

“You’re so fucking gone for my cock, I bet you can’t even remember his name,” he chuckles against the shell of your ear and you let out another sob, shaking your head frantically. “What is it, baby? What’s his name?”

“I don’t…” you trail off, jaw going slack and eyes rolling back into your head when Dick lifts up your leg to position it over his shoulder, hitting a brand new angle that makes your whole body tense and writhe. He repeats the question and you whine, arching your back even more as you clutch his bicep. “Fuck! I— I don’t know, oh my God, I don’t remember. Oh, Dick, please, it’s so good! You’re so fucking good, I can’t—”

Dick smirks into your neck, his hot breath fanning over your skin as he pants. “That’s what I fucking thought.”

He leans back and brings your other leg over his other shoulder to drive his length into you impossibly deep and you scream his name so loudly that there’s no way your neighbours could miss it.

The sounds of his skin slapping against yours are so obscene in the otherwise quiet of your bedroom that he wishes he could record it to listen to the audio later. He makes a mental note for next time.

As soon as Dick feels your cunt begin to clench around him, he knows you’re close and fuck if he isn’t too. Sweat is coating his back and he feels out of control — you don’t look any better as there are tears of pleasure running down your cheeks, your tits bouncing with every thrust, the sheen of sweat over them catching in the light.

Fuck, he groans out a guttural noise as he picks up the pace to piston into you like a fucking machine. Reaching over in between your legs, he starts to rub quick circles into your clit with his thumb, leaning down to spit on it.

He watches with awe as his thumb rubs his spit into your cunt and the more he circles your clit, the harder he slams into you. Soon, you’re coming so hard that your body trembles with a high pitched whine and your nails are drawing blood down Dick’s back.

The way your cunt is clutching his cock through your orgasm makes him follow quickly and he’s as much of a wreck as you are, burying his face in your neck and sliding his arms under you to pull you close to him as his hips begin to falter. Before he knows it, Dick is shooting hot ropes of cum all over your walls with a choked groan.

It feels never ending, the way you’re milking him for all he’s worth and he decides he never wants to separate from you, keeping himself buried inside of you as he collapses onto you.

He leans most of his weight on his arms beside you, but he’s close enough to feel your racing heartbeat against his chest as you catch your breath.

“You did so good for me, sweetheart,” he pants, one of his hands coming over to rest on your belly where he traces his fingers. “So fucking good…”

Your lips curve up into a smile and although it’s tired, he can tell you’re pleased.

He presses soft kisses into your temple, still buried deep inside of you. Your legs stay wrapped around him and your arms encircle his broadness in a bear hug, not eager to let go any time soon.

Dick is such a good best friend, after all.

[bowtiepasta]

higuruma doesn’t mean to scroll so far back.

it starts with something innocent — as most things do. a new photo of you in his sweatshirt, a text he missed from earlier. but he somehow ends up in last fall, rewatching a boomerang you sent of you biting into a fruit tart: lips glossy, eyes flicking to the camera.

he shifts in bed, the sheets cool against his thighs, and sighs deep from his chest because this is getting embarrassing.

you’re not even naked, not saying anything dirty, only laughing while you chew and lick sugar off your fingers ..and he’s fucking hard.

by the time you actually sext him (what if I woke you up with my mouth next time?), he’s already half gone, head tilted back and breathing your name through bared teeth.

minutes later, when you call to say goodnight — your sleep-littered heaven-sent rasp-cured voice through the receiver — he lets his forehead hit the pillow, pretending not to be furiously stroking his cock beneath the blankets <3

he whispers, “goodnight, love.”

but the way he gasps when you tell him you dreamt of him?

god.

he won’t sleep at all.

“what was that?” you yawn into the receiver.

higuruma stiffens, wiping his palm against his comforter, heart hammering like he’s sixteen again.

“nothing,” he croaks, then clears his throat, trying for steadier and miserably failing. “just tired.”

you make a soft little noise. “me too. ‘m sorry I woke you up.”

“you didn’t,” he says too fast, too earnest. “I’m... glad you called.”

you giggle, low and lazy. “you sound funny.”

“do I?”

“mhm,” you hum, smiling. the nightlight he bought you from that thrift store down the road makes your cheeks look like strawberries. “all out of breath. like you ran a marathon or something.”

he drags a hand down his face, willing his pulse to slow.

“long day,” he says weakly.

“mm. you work too hard.”

there’s a pause where he thinks maybe you’ve fallen asleep, but then you sigh, and it crackles a little before the sound fully goes through: “wish I was there. I’d help you relax.”

his mouth goes dry. “yeah?” he breathes. “yeah.”

“I’d… scratch your back. let you put your head in my lap… stroke your hair… kiss up and down that pretty nose.”

he squeezes his eyes shut, fists clenching in the sheets. you have no idea what you’re doing to him.

“bet you’d fall asleep in five minutes,” you add, laughing gently.

“or,” you say, a sly little lilt sneaking into your voice now, “maybe I’d keep you up even more.”

he makes a helpless noise before he can stop himself, forehead hitting the pillow.

you catch it this time, voice perking up.

“…wait. seriously, what was that?”

“nothing.” “you look guilty.”

“it’s nothing.” “are you constipated?”

“goodnight,” he says quickly, practically strangled, but you’re stubborn — which he should expect by now.

“miss me or something?” you tease, and he swears he sees god.

“because,” you murmur, careful, like you’re just now realizing, “I wouldn’t mind… if you did.”

a beat.

“wouldn’t mind,” “if you thought about me.”

higuruma groans quietly into the mattress, hopeless.

you smile against your pillow, turning up your volume.

“next time you can just tell me, you know.”

hi i’m too lazy to format an author’s note and may start just typing them out under a god awful reaction gif like these for my convenience. anyway. thank you for reading. i love u

do not copy, edit, or repost, any of my works on any platforms.

[vylosinbound]

Hiii<333

If requests are open, can you write drabble of Obey me bros + Diavolo (if that's okay) × fem! Shy Reader.

She's kind of shy at first and doesn't talk much until she gets comfortable to those around her and open up more about herself, etc.

If not interested, it's totally fine<33

Thank you in advance<<333

Thank you so much for your request, it was honestly such a pleasure to work on it! I made sure to keep the softness and a tiny bit of suggestiveness ♡

I'm so happy you trusted me with your idea! Hope you’ll enjoy it! Feel free to request again anytime!

Delicate hearts:

The brothers' and Diavolo with a shy MC

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor + Diavolo

Genre: Soft Romance / Fluff / Slightly suggestive / Comfort / Tender moments / Female MC

MC is shy and needs time to open up. At first, they speak very little and get embarrassed easily, but once they start to feel safe with them, they slowly begin to act more confident. Some interactions may become a little more intimate, but always in a natural and gentle way!

LUCIFER

At first, Lucifer had only observed you quietly from behind his desk, the way you avoided his eyes, how your voice turned breathless when you answered him.

It amused him, the way you shrank under his authority, but a part of him... a darker, greedier part... wanted more.

Wanted you to stop flinching and start needing him.

It happened slowly.

One evening, you approached him in his study, papers in hand, but instead of placing them on his desk, you stepped close, so close your scent curled into his senses.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

You stood there, biting your lip, before daring to lift your gaze to his. "Lucifer... can I stay with you for a while?" The restraint in him snapped like a taut string.

Without a word, he stood, towering over you. His gloved hand slid under your chin, tilting your face upward.

"You have no idea," he murmured, his voice a molten rumble, "how long I've waited for you to come to me like this."

The kiss he pressed to your forehead was deceptively gentle, a warning of everything he was holding back.

MAMMON

Mammon always noticed how you clung to the edges of the room when you first arrived, nervous, quiet, eyes darting away when he caught you looking.

It killed him a little inside, honestly.

"Why's she actin' like I'm scary or somethin'...?" he'd mutter under his breath, watching you with a soft, confused frown.

He wanted to be close to you so badly, but he was terrified of spooking you.

But today was different. You came up to him, tugging gently at his sleeve, your fingers barely grazing his jacket. "Mammon... can I hold onto you for a bit?" you whispered, voice trembling with courage. Mammon stared like you'd just flipped his world upside down.

"Wha—? Yeah! I mean, yeah, 'course, c'mere!" In a heartbeat, he scooped you up against his chest, strong arms wrapping you up completely. You could feel his heart racing under your cheek.

"D-dumb human," he mumbled, his hands stroking your back with surprising tenderness, "ya don’t gotta ask... ya can hold onto me as long as ya want." He tried so hard to act cool, but you noticed the way his fingers twitched, like he was desperate.

"Y'can't just look at me like that and not expect me to do somethin' about it..." he muttered, words hot against the crown of your head.

He hugged you tighter, like he was afraid you'd slip away.

LEVIATHAN

Levi couldn't deal with how you were so shy around him, skittering like a startled rabbit whenever he spoke too loudly or got too close. Part of him wanted to curl into a ball and die from guilt...The other part wanted to earn your trust so badly it made his chest ache.

And then one evening, as he streamed quietly in his room, you shuffled over, blanket in hand, cheeks burning. "Levi... c-can I sit with you?" You didn’t wait for an answer, you just tucked yourself beside him, snuggling under his arm.

Levi’s brain completely blue-screened. "M-MC... you're gonna kill me..." he stuttered, voice cracking.

But he didn’t push you away. Instead, he trembled slightly, wrapping the blanket around you both, with barely contained excitement.

You nuzzled into his side, and Levi squeezed his eyes shut, savoring the feeling like it was the greatest loot drop of his life. He let out a choked noise halfway between a whimper and a sob, curling his trembling fingers shyly around yours, feeling like he was about to pass out from happiness.

SATAN

Satan noticed everything,the way your voice softened around him, the way you hesitated before touching his hand, the way you seemed to hold your breath in his presence.

He wanted to be patient, to let you come to him... but sometimes, it was agonizing. He longed to see you look at him without fear.

Books surrounded the two of you, but Satan had long since stopped reading. His eyes were solely focused on you, how your fingers brushed the pages delicately, how your lips moved soundlessly as you read.

You caught him staring, and your cheeks flushed prettily.

Satan only smiled, slow and deliberate, setting his book aside. "You have no idea, do you?" he said, voice a soft purr. "How dangerous it is... to look at me like that."

He leaned forward, bracing one arm behind you, effectively trapping you against the couch. The corner of his mouth lifted in a playful smirk as he leaned in, until your noses almost brushed.

"Careful, kitten. I might not be able to resist if you keep tempting me like this."

But he didn’t kiss you, not yet. He let you feel the heat between you first, savoring the way you trembled under his gaze.

ASMODEUS

Asmodeus adored your shyness, it was delicious, it made him want to coax every little sweet reaction from you. But he was careful, never pushing too hard, always waiting for you to bloom on your own terms.

Still, he dreamed of the day you would run into his arms willingly.

"Darling, you’re blushing again..." Asmo teased gently, twirling a lock of your hair around his finger. He adored how shy you were, how easily he could make your heart race with a single look.

Leaning closer, he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin with maddening softness.

"You know," he murmured, voice dripping honey, "you really shouldn’t make yourself look so delicious if you don't want to be eaten up."

You squeaked, pulling back instinctively, but Asmo only laughed, warm, fond. He leaned in again, this time pressing a teasing kiss just under your jawline, grinning when he felt you shiver.

"Mmm, adorable. I could worship you forever, my sweet MC."

BEELZEBUB

Beel always watched you like you were something precious. Not like food, never like that, but like a delicate treasure he was scared to break.

You sat beside him now, half-eating your snack, half-offering him bites shyly. Beel accepted every one, his large hand brushing yours intentionally longer each time.

"You're too good to me," he rumbled, voice deep and rough.

When your hands touched again, and you didn't pull away, Beel hesitated for half a second, then carefully linked his fingers with yours.

"Can I hold you, too?" he asked, voice so gentle it made your chest ache.

When you nodded shyly, Beel gathered you against him with stunning tenderness, cradling you like you were something sacred.

BELPHEGOR

Belphie noticed how you tiptoed around him at first, your natural shyness making you wary of getting too close. He found it amusing, but also a little endearing. Still, he wanted you to want him, to trust him enough to let your guard down.

You found Belphie lying on the attic couch, one arm lazily draped over his forehead.

Without a word, you climbed beside him, curling up at his side.

Belphie cracked an eye open, smirking when he saw you.

"You're bold today, MC," he teased, voice raspy with sleep. When you shyly hid your face against his chest, he chuckled low and warm.

He wrapped both arms around you, pulling you closer until there was no space left.

"Mmm... you’re soft... perfect," he mumbled against your hair, pressing a lingering kiss to the crown of your head.

His hands drifted slowly up and down your spine, lazy and possessive, as if memorizing the shape of you in his arms.

DIAVOLO

At first, Diavolo had kept his distance out of respect, he saw how easily your cheeks colored, how small you seemed when you stood beside him. It stirred something primal inside him, something he barely managed to keep leashed.

You hadn't meant to end up alone with Diavolo in the palace garden, but here you were, seated on a low stone bench, drinking one of the best teas Barbatos could make as the prince towered over you, laughing softly. Some time had passed, and you were definitely more confident.

"You're trembling," he observed, tilting his head curiously. You flushed harder, unable to meet his golden eyes.

Diavolo knelt down in front of you, massive hands resting lightly on your knees. "I'm not going to hurt you," he promised, voice thick and warm.

Leaning in closer, his hand brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, fingertips ghosting along your jawline.

"But you should know..." he whispered, his mouth so close you could feel the heat of it, "when you look at me like that, you make it very, very hard to behave."

He didn't touch you more than that, not yet, but the heavy, heated look he gave you said everything he didn’t.

[fushigogo]

AU in which toji is alive and reader is mamaguro

megumin was just waiting for his food while yuji, nobara were looking for him (geto and satoru special appearance with the coca-cola’s)

requests are open

yuji and nobara have been in your house before. you remember clearly yuji saying: “didn’t you say you lived in the streets or something?”

“no, you idiot, he said he was living in the trash can” nobara would reply. you turned a deaf ear to their comments. you know gumi wasn’t embarrassed of you — well, at least...

it was for who his father was that made him avoid his friends to visit the house. the well-known sorcerer killer, toji fushiguro. you don’t even know how you “fix” him so he would follow a path that wouldn’t get the family into trouble. even gojo satoru respected that. he didn’t like it to admit it, but certainly it was awkward to being known by his father.

even yuji would always comment: “dude, i hope your dad’s not home. the other time he stared at me as if he was going to kill me!”

“not like you you stepped on the worm where he keeps his things.” nobara argued.

“it is like my dad’s dog.”

“how on earth that’s a pet. it was so scary...”

“yeah, just don’t do that again and you’ll be fine.” megumi said as he was opening the door and yuji’s biggest fear came true.

toji’s big back, his arms laying on the edges of the couch...“dad, i’m home. brought my friends.”

“yeah, yeah...” he just brush off, waving his hand. nobara and yuji were trembling, hoping he wouldn’t turn his head, and thank god that didn’t happen.

“hey, mom.”

”hi, sweety.” you greeted cheerful. he can’t believe how such a patient, peaceful, harmonious woman married his dad. “nobara, yuji.”

“allo, mrs. guro. whadda we have tonight for dinner?” yuji was already rubbing his palms together. megumi hit his head with his hand.

“i ordered from an old lady who makes delicious stews, so you only have to pick it up.”

“we’ll do that for you.” everything to avoid megumi’s dad, honestly.

and that’s how their adventure began, which was faster than expected. they just only had to show the ticket you used to buy the food and then bring it home, but a problem showed up.

megumi got missing and the panic invaded their bodies, thinking about what toji fushiguro would do to them if his brat didn’t show up.

“nobara, do you imagine what he might do? what he might do to me?” yuji, panicked, shake nobara’s body with his hands,

“i don’t wanna die.” she was already sobbing, and then, she remembered she had food in her hands. “the food you asshole.”

“we have to look for him.”

“good idea.”

and the following minutes, they were screaming his name, looking in every corner and there weren’t signals of the aforementioned.

“yuji, we have to tell an adult, what if something bad happened to him.”

he gulped, knowing that the next thing that was going to be crushed was his face and not toji’s pet, and not by accident.

trembling, already sobbing, they were nervous about what would happen next, so seeing yuji was hesitating on knocking on the door, nobara did it, with heart (and the food) in hands. they were practicing what they were going to say, to beg for mercy...

but then, they saw him.

the bastard was waiting at the table, like a king so they could bring him his food, and gojo and suguru-sensei were confused, and not to mention they brought two cokes of two litres, very cold.

“look at him. well-seated and waiting for us to bring him his food.” nobara whispered on the low.

and a groan, on the low, asked, “what you brats said?”.

“nothing, mr. fushiguro.”

“guys, are you ok?” satoru asked. “it seems like you missed something...”

“nooo... we.” yuji scoffed, giggling out of nervousness, while toji, took the stew and served first of all his child. “we just got lost, hehehe.”

“you have weird friends, brat.” toji looked at them.

“don’t even mention it, dad.”

based in this video of Kimberly waiting for her tacos (Karina is Toji and Kimberly gumi)

[perreqult]

DEAR GOD ✶ WILL SMITH

summary: it’s pretty hard to forget Will when he’s everywhere you are

word count: 1.4k (maybe a little more i counted before i continued more)

contains: smut (p in v— unprotected don’t do that), screwing your ex (i’m self projecting), missing your ex and being in denial about it, swearing, drinking, think that’s it

notes: i miss my frat boy situationship from freshman year

not proofread, expect mistakes

Working for the sharks didn’t seem too bad when you and Will were dating, but Lord was it aggravating to when you and Will had been broken up for a while.

The worst part were the stolen glances and awkward interactions. Let alone Macklin shamelessly staring at you. No matter where in San Jose you went, Will and his stupid pretty face followed you, haunted you.

Your mind has been flooded with everything about him. His smile, his voice, his body that you remember like it’s yours. Fuck, you miss that part of him— ‘Oh my God stopping thinking about that’, you tell yourself. It sure as hell doesn’t work.

You do try to forget him, it just fails. Every thought you have leads back to him, and it really doesn’t help that you two see eachother on a daily basis.

Forced interactions that couldn’t be described as anything but awkward should be considered torture. Every single uncomfortable “Hey.” that’s uttered out you think you miss him even more.

Does he miss you this way? You’re guessing the answer is no based on the fact he looks like he wants to die when you two have to talk.

Did you really think you’d be at a party one of Will’s teammates threw tonight? No. Are you, though? Yes. And so far it’s sucked.

Corny music is blasting in your ears from possibly the loudest speakers of all time, it’s hot and humid, and worst of all— Will is right next to you. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t the most awkward experience of your life

You’re really only still in that spot— or at this party at all— because your friend decided that you can get over your emotions towards Will for the night and can get along with her friends. Who may or may not be Will’s friends.

Eklund offers you a round of beer pong and you use that as your escape to get anywhere Smitty isn’t. Even as you’re tossing the pong ball across the table set up you can’t help but think of him.

It would be a lot easier to forget him if you didn’t see him everywhere. You wanted nothing more than to say you forgot about him, you hate him, you don’t think about him every waking second, but if you did those would all be lies.

You’ve even thought about praying to whoever’s out there to let you forget him. Let you not think of him and his stupid dick when you’re lying on your bed.

You snap out of your haze of reminiscing him just in time for— you guessed it— to walk over to the table you and Eklund were at.

“Ah, Smitty. You have to ignore this round. She’s kicking my ass.” He laughs out, pointing at the cups scattered across the flat plastic foldable table. Will responds with a chuckle.

Embarrassment rushes through your body, it should, your ex— who you think about way too much— is standing less than 10 feet away from you, laughing. And fuck he looks perfect.

You’re staring. You know it. All you hope is that he doesn’t notice. Unfortunately your luck gave out tonight and he notices, he definitely does. He nods at you and smiles awkwardly. Is it possible for you to get more flustered? Right now you don’t think so.

“You know what? I tap out. Smitty you sub in for me, alright?” He tells him with a friendly pat on his back drunkenly. Yeah no, it was definitely possible to get more embarrassed.

“Sure.” Your heart practically sinks. One part of your mind says “Can he leave me alone?” and the other says, “Can he never leave me alone again” maybe it’s the alcohol making you indecisive.

You win but you don’t say anything the entire game. He’s acting a lot more relaxed now. This is the first time you can say drunk interactions with people are easier than when they’re sober.

“Y’alight?” He asks, breaking the weird silence between the two of you. All you can do is just nod again. You’re trying to blame it on being drunk but you know that’s not the truth. He flashes you a puzzled look but shakes it off like he knows you’re lying.

It’s because your thoughts about him, your dreams about him, the way you still love him.

“I… I’m gonna go with my friends.” You sputter out, not even looking him in the eyes as you say it, ready to leave, to not have any more memories of him you’ll eventually miss.

“I still love you by the way.” He blurts out. You’re expecting him to have some surprised look on his face, mirroring the one you have plastered all over yours. He doesn’t. He’s serious. You can tell.

“What?” Is what stumbled its way out your lips. You’re frozen in shock, whipping your head back to face him.

“I do.” He adds on, sure you don’t believe him. You don’t. He’s either been acting like you don’t exist or acting like you’re the most disgusting person on earth.

You don’t even respond. You do the first thing that pops into your drunken, hazed, mind. You kiss him. Oh God why did you do that? At the very least, Will doesn’t pull back in disgust and kisses back.

When he pulls back to breathe you already know he’s gonna say something stupid. “You gonna stop acting like you hate me now?” There it is. You hate that he’s right and you hate that you’re there right now. So what now, you fuck your ex? What if he’s just drunk and he’s gonna avoid you as soon as you drift out of his bed.

“Just shut up.” You tell him before grilling his face to pull him back into the kiss, particularly aggressively Will notes.

You probably shouldn’t be in his bedroom right now, should you? But you are. You’re slipping your dress off swiftly, almost giving you flashbacks to your relationship.

He looks at you with a grin that can only described as smug as he catches you staring at him as he yanks down his pants.

“Looks like you’ve missed me.” You tells you, pointing with his eyes at your soaked panties. Fuck. He’s right. Why is he always right about you?

You climb up onto his bed in a way that you remember all too well, pushing your weight onto your elbows as you eye him, pushing his boxers off to free his cock.

It’s not surprising that you remember it— hell, you’ve been thinking about it the past 4 months, why wouldn’t you?

You snap out of your subspace, drowned in thoughts, when he climbs up onto you, staring down at you. Yet again, that fucking smirk. God, he is hot.

He’s lined up to your dripping entrance, tip prodding at your hole. There’s some sort of intimate silence that lies in his bedroom. Maybe it’s the way your mind is filled with the memories you’ve been trying to forget.

“You ready?” He asks. You nod, way too quickly. He almost laughs— God, you were eager. As he dips into your soaking heat, he mumbles “Missed you.”, letting out an almost silent moan, slightly tipping his head back. You, on the other hand, cry out in pleasure. You hate to think this again, but God you missed him. A lot.

He takes the silent cue of you gripping his shoulders, pulling him deeper to start pistoning in and out of your drenched cunt. You try your best to quiet yourself down, for Will’s floor neighbor’s sake. It would be a terrible lie to say it actually worked. You were moaning in bliss as he went back and forth through your walls.

“Fuck.” You yelled as he hit that perfect spot in your hole that makes you go crazy. Will’s groans and low moans grow loader, gripping your hips tight— almost hard enough to leave marks— each time he slams back into your cunt.

“Anybody else fuck you like this?” He asks through a husky voice, starting to pump into you at a fast, rough pace. You can even fight the urge to cry out.

“Oh—Fuck… Haven’t fucked anyone else.” You sputter out through moans, your eyes rolling back into your skull. He groans out, a sly smile slipping across his face.

“Don’t gotta worry about that ‘nymore, huh?” He tells you through—deeper than usual— sultry voice. You wail out in undeniable bliss in a way that had to have boosted Will’s ego. You know it does when his smile goes wider.

Your mind practically goes blank, left in a blissed out subspace by the time you’re reaching your orgasm.

“Mmm, fuck.” You stutter out, feeling your peak grow closer. Will’s thrusts grow more and more sporadic, he’s close to. You know his body.

“Mm, gonna make me come.” He whispers into your ear, speeding up his thrusts, something you didn’t think was possible. That’s what throws you over the edge, your orgasm washing over you as you wail out.

He reaches his soon after, slowing down his thrusts so he’s left still, pulling you tight. “Missed you too.” He mutters. You’re too fucked out to care what he says at this point, you’ll talk in the morning.

“I didn’t miss you at all, Smitty.” You tell him, lying through your teeth. He just rolls his eyes, he knows you’re lying, pulling out of your heat slowly.

He rolls over to appear at your side and pulls you tightly next to him. You would say you forgot how nice it felt to sleep next to him, but you didn’t. You remembered it every night when you had to live without him.

[harringtonfeels]

touch

18+ • 2.8k • Friends to ???? to Lovers with inexperienced Reader

Notes: This is about half fluff, half smut, with a liiiiittle bit of angst. There is some discussion of the right to revoke consent regarding a past boyfriend of Reader's toward the beginning. Nothing bad happens to Reader, aside from confusion about expectations for female sexuality. If this would be triggering for you, please don't read.

"Wait, hold on a second." Steve sounds so perplexed that you have to look up from the book in your hands and glance around the room, as though someone else may have walked in and changed the tenor of the conversation. All you'd said was— "You've never had sex?"

You blink back at him, surprised by his surprise. Cheeks burning, you say, "Well, I mean…" Closing the book with a dense thump, you force yourself to make eye contact. "You don't have to say it like that. And it's not like nobody's ever, like, offered."

When he cocks his head slightly to the side, his hair falls slightly in that very Steve sort of way. "What about Mark?" You can't help the way a shiver runs down your spine at the mention. The intrigue is practically spilling out of him at this point, as he turns over onto his side and props himself up on his elbow, settling into the conversation. "I thought you said you were going to sleep with him. That night with the big, fancy date and the—"

"You mean right before I avoided him for three days and then broke up with him?" How had Steve not gotten the memo on that one?

You watch him connect the dots in real time, but he still seems a little confused. "Okay, then Rick. You dated Rick for a long time."

That forces a laugh out of you. "Yeah, when we were like thirteen, Steve. Come on."

"Jeff?"

"I couldn't even get Jeff to answer my phone calls, let alone have sex with me. Can we stop the rundown of my abysmal love life?" you say, trying to remain lighthearted but feeling your own mood sour with each passing moment. What started as incredulousness at Steve's reaction is beginning to turn into something like shame.

A beat later, Steve asks, "Did something happen with Mark?"

You know what he's asking, and your cheeks burn even hotter with embarrassment. "No, nothing like that."

"I thought you liked him."

"I did. And then I didn't. It was just… He just…" You drop your forgotten book onto Steve's bed and bury your face in your hands. "He was just very pushy, I guess. Like, as soon as he realized I was willing to have sex with him, he just wanted to get right to it. I didn't really feel like he was listening to me."

Steve's hand curls itself gently around your wrist, prying your hand from your face, and his voice takes on a slight edge. "What do you mean, 'he wasn't listening to you'?"

"Not like that." It's so hard to find a way to put it into words. You aren't entirely sure Mark even did anything wrong. It's more that he didn't do anything right. You steel yourself and look up at Steve, your longtime best friend who recently became something more, and you know he'll wait as long as you need him to, until you find the words to say. Steve has always had such patience with you, your whole lives. Somehow, that makes it feel even more urgent.

Finally, you inhale deeply and summon the courage to continue. "It wasn't like he tried to make me do anything, really. He was just kind of… inconsiderate. It felt more like he was excited to be having sex than that he was excited to be having sex with me."

Steve rubs soothing circles into your wrist and presses a soft kiss to the palm of your hand. "So you told him to fuck off?"

That draws a laugh out of you. "Yes, basically. I was really confused about how I was feeling, so I told him I didn't think I was ready, and then he acted like he was mad at me the whole way home. So I broke up with him."

He looks a bit lost in thought, and you wonder what he's thinking about. If he's rethinking your relationship, if this makes him see you differently.

He props himself up against the headboard and pulls you close, tucking you into his side. "Baby, you know that's not how it's supposed to be, don't you?"

You want to say yes, but deep down, you're not really sure. What if you're just high maintenance? What if that's the way it always is, and it's true that sex isn't really supposed to be enjoyable for women, and maybe Mark was right to be upset with you for putting an end to things? What if once you'd already said yes, you weren't really allowed to say no? What if what you want isn't supposed to matter at all?

Realistically, you feel like this can't be the case. Why should sex only be good for one person? Why should you not be able to decide when and where and how you have sex, for the first time or for any time? Why should anyone else's feelings matter more than your own? But it's hard to reconcile your feelings of self-preservation with the things you've been told your whole life, or the look on Mark's face when you told him you wanted to go home.

Knowing something is true doesn't make it feel that way.

You bury your face in Steve's shoulder and nod anyway. Of all the ups and downs in the years you've spent with Steve, one thing he's always made you feel was safe.

His fingertips brush against your thigh, just under the hem of your dress, and you smile into his shirt at the way it tickles. Reflexively, you lift your leg a little higher, running away from the feeling. "I'd never want to make you feel that way, honey. You know you could tell me if I did, right?"

You flush at the insinuation. Steve wants to have sex with you. And he wants you to enjoy it. It's still hard to wrap your mind around it, this newfound whatever-this-is, the boundariless relationship status that started with a kiss and ends with… you're not sure what, exactly.

But you know Steve. Whatever this is between you, you can't imagine Steve Harrington would ever treat you like an object, or a means to an end. "I know," you say softly, breath hitching in your throat as his palm slides beneath your dress.

"Is this okay?" he murmurs into your hair.

Your stomach flutters with anticipation, and you nod.

His touch is so gentle, it's almost maddening. It's already so different from how Mark touched you, slow and thoughtful instead of rough and hurried. For the first time, you think you might really understand the meaning of the word sensual.

When his palm leaves your skin, you sigh with disappointment, but just as quickly, he's tipping your chin upward, looking into your eyes with his honey brown ones. "Can I kiss you?"

Suddenly, there's a lot you want to tell him. Words that threaten to spill out of you without cohesion or any defined purpose. But this moment is so perfect you don't dare tarnish it. You lean into it instead. Breath stuttering, you nod again, and you sit up just enough to see him better, to reach him better.

His lips are soft against yours, hand gently cupping your cheek, and it's excruciatingly slow at first, until you clench the front of his tee shirt in your fist and urgently draw him closer. He shifts, slotting one knee between your thighs and deepening the kiss as he does.

Steve has kissed you a few times now, and each time, it's like learning a different version of him. Drunk, confident Steve the first time. Sticky-sweet, adoring Steve the second. Soft, horny Steve today. You can feel the hard outline of him pressed against your thigh. A few minutes ago, this might have been jarring or even somewhat alarming, but not now. With your skirt rucked up almost to your waist, you can't help but sigh into his mouth and roll your hips against his.

He pulls away just enough to murmur, "Oh, honey."

You whimper in response, feeling your way under the hem of his shirt. You've never touched him like this. You don't know when the lines blurred so much that your best friend Steve has become someone whose sides you can caress, whose mouth you can feel on your neck— "Oh my god."

His lips brush against your skin. "Can I tell you how I'd touch you?"

Your brain struggles to piece together what he's asking, which is a testament more to how focused you are on how you feel than the complexity of his question. Swallowing thickly, you nod again.

"Come on, baby, use your words. I need to know you mean it."

You dig your nails lightly into his back at that, pouting. "Steve, please."

He's got you flat on your back now, grinding his hips absentmindedly against yours. You can feel him smile against your collarbone, fingers splayed across your ribs as his thumb ghosts across the underwire of your bra. "If you let me touch you, I'd start real slow," he whispers. "Get you nice and comfortable for me, start somewhere safe, like here." His hand cups the outside of your thigh, making leisurely circles with his thumb.

It's a clear retreat from before, less suggestive, and yet you feel your pulse pick up with anticipation. Mouth falling open just slightly, you watch his face as he continues. You've never seen him like this before, focused but glassy-eyed, lips swollen.

When you focus on his hands like this, it's hard to think that it was ever outside the bounds of your relationship for him to touch you like this. All those times watching him shift gears, watching the way his big hands wrap around his baseball bat at practices. Eyes lingering on his long fingers just a little longer than strictly necessary. It feels natural, now that you see his hands on you in real time.

You're sucked back into the present when Steve opens his mouth. "And when you're feeling really comfortable, I'd make my way a little higher." He punctuates this statement by bending your leg at the knee, hand slowly lowering beneath your dress once more.

You let out a whimper as his fingertips graze the edge of your light pink panties, drunk on the suggestion alone, and you weave your fingers through his hair to steady yourself.

It's not like you've never made out with anyone before. You've had boyfriends, you've been on successful dates with passionate kisses that left you winded on your doorstep. But it's never been anything like this, not that you can remember. Every time you made it even to second base with someone before, they were just… demanding or selfish or, once, even actually insulted your body. Some guys didn't work out because they moved away for college, or got back together with their ex, or because you didn't like them that much, or they just weren't a very good kisser. You told yourself when you were dating Mark that, if a lackluster makeout session was the worst of it, you could handle that. You hadn't known at the time that it was possible you wouldn't have to make any concessions.

Steve swipes his thumb across your lower lip, eyes darkening with desire. Teasing the wasitband of your panties with more intention, he leans back in to press a kiss just above the neckline of your dress. He hesitates slightly, and you hang on his every movement like it's a lifeline. When he speaks again, his eyes meet yours. His hair is wild from your fingers running through it, and he looks just as feverish as you feel.

You can't help but watch his mouth when he speaks, as if you don't already know what it feels like on your skin. "And if you liked that," he says, "then I'd turn my attention somewhere else. The trick—" His free hand brushes along your ribcage, dangerously close to your breast. "—is to keep my hands busy, and keep your imagination busy, too."

If you were ever under any illusion that you weren't turned on before, the slick gathering between your thighs makes it quite clear. The late summer breeze rolling through the window is cool on your skin. If it weren't for that, you'd be burning up under the heat of him. As it is, you can barely breathe, but you're not sure that's from the temperature.

His hands move confidently but not impulsively. He skims across the side of your breast with his palm, and you arch into his touch, fingers tangling into the hair at the nape of his neck. Removing his hand from your waistband, he pulls you up into a sitting position and finds the zipper of your dress. He starts to unzip you, then stops abruptly, raising his eyebrows in question. When you nod in response, he leans in for another searing kiss and finishes the job.

You only notice he's run into some difficulty unclasping your bra because he laughs after the third try, and you can't help but smile as you reach around to unclasp it yourself. And then his hands are on your skin again, palming one of your breasts and burying his face in your neck.

When he brushes his thumb over your nipple, you gasp, and he grins against your skin, carefully laying you back down on the mattress. "Does that feel good, honey?"

"Mm-hmm," you whimper, not caring how needy you sound. "Please don't stop."

"'M not stopping, baby," he murmurs, "unless you ask me to."

Steve is nothing if not good at building suspense, you're learning. He circles your nipple with his thumb, then backs off, sliding his free hand back down the front of your dress and toward the front of your panties. While you're distracted by that, stomach clenching in anticipation, he pinches your nipple gently, rolling it between his thumb and finger.

You can't help but gasp in response, overstimulated in the best way.

"And when you're nice and relaxed and ready for me…" He uses one finger to lift the waistband of your panties up just high enough to fit his hand inside. Your thighs fall open at the movement of their own accord, and you tug at his hair, hips lifting slightly to chase his touch.

Steve stills completely, mouth parting like he can't believe it. As if he himself didn't honestly think this little lesson would be so effective. Sounding a little distant, he looks into your eyes and whispers, "That's when I'd touch you."

You stare back at him, the spell broken. You had almost forgotten there was something he was getting at, other than just showing you what you were missing. It's a little dizzying, seeing how far you've gotten on a flirty line, an ambiguous relationship status, and a suspension of disbelief.

Didn't he just say he wasn't going to stop?

"Steve?" you prompt him, voice uncharacteristically small, as if speaking too loudly will make this moment disappear.

He blinks back at you, re-engaging. "Can I touch you, honey?"

Biting your lip, you nod, and a slow, easy grin spreads across his face.

He finds your free hand and kisses your knuckles before slipping his hand just a little bit lower, fingertips just dipping into your slick folds. "Oh, sweetheart," he hums, "you're s' wet for me." When the pad of his middle finger brushes your clit, your hips buck against his hand with urgency. "We've made a mess of your pretty panties, honey. We're gonna have to take these off."

You raise your hips up off the bed without further prompting. You don't have it in you to feel embarrassed, or to worry about what you're going to wear back home. You just let Steve remove them, and when he's done, you paw at the hem of his shirt, asking permission silently. He rolls his shoulders and helps you pull it over his head, tossing it haphazardly onto the floor.

And when he leans back in, you marvel at all the parts of him you get to touch now, the things you get to do that you never could before. The things you've thought about a million times when you really shouldn't have. During school night sleepovers, summer afternoons by his family's pool, at the department store when you both tried on outfits for prom. All those parts of him you've craved, the things you never thought you'd get to feel.

The words tumble out before you can stop them. I love you.

And sure, it's embarrassing. There's a lot of stuff about tonight that's embarrassing, but it doesn't matter. Because even if he doesn't—

Before your cheeks have even had time to warm up, Steve is climbing up your body, eyes wide with something like wonder, and he's cradling your face in his hands. He kisses you slow and firm, like it's the first time, or even the last. He kisses you until you're both breathless, and then he leans his forehead against yours, both of you panting and giggling a little at the absurdity of it all.

And then Steve whispers, "I love you, too."

[withafoll]

He needs you.

Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

(Inspired by a C.ai bot by addynot)

The material was tight, but not overwhelming. His gentle hands kneaded the laces and tied them together firmly. Although not too comfortable, it wasn’t suffocating. In a suave motion, his digits ran over the corset’s front, pressing a chaste peck to your exposed neck.

“Don’t know how you could wear somethin’ like this.” He breathed out, his voice hardly above a whisper.

Of course, the dim-witted man understood nothing of beauty or its standards.

"You would say that," you say, smirking.

He chuckled lowly into your skin. After checking the laces for one final time, he spun you around, his calloused hands settling on your waist.

“What’s that supposed’ta mean?” Arthur murmured, his gaze roaming leisurely up and down your figure.

"Beauty has rules, not that I'd expect you to know, you spend all your time around men"

He snorted in response to your comment, but a sly smirk was still plastered onto his lips. Taking a step closer to you, his grip on your waist tightened.

“Yeah? And what’s so bad about hangin’ round’ men?” He questioned, his gaze flicking down to your cleavage in-between words.

You wrap a hand around the back of his neck, pulling the tie of your corset slowly, untying the front. "You tell me"

Your words and actions made him gulp, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down. His gaze remained locked on the corset, and he found himself watching with hunger in his eyes as the fabric loosened.

He was a weak man when it came to you. Despite the fact that he never openly admitted it, he wanted you so much it hurt.

“Damn, sweetheart…” He muttered, his fingers twitching against your waist.

"You tell me" you say again, pulling his hair just enough to make him look at you in the eye.

He winced softly from the tug on his hair, and his gaze flickered up to meet your eyes.

“You’re too damn pretty…” He mumbled in a trance-like manner, staring at your face with a sort of desperate longing.

He knew he was being vulnerable, and he was embarrassed by the words he just said. But the need to touch you and feel your mouth against his was too intense for him to deny any longer.

You tug at his hair again, smirking. "You're gonna be good for me, yeah?" You ask, voice low and seductive, pulling my corset off to reveal the shift underneath.

His breath visibly hitched as the corset fell to the floor with a quiet thump. He forced his gaze to remain locked on your face, but it was difficult.

“Sweetheart…” He murmured, his tone pleading.

His fingers clutched at your hips, and he had the urge to pull you closer. As close as physically possible.

"Mm mm" you say, disappointed "Be good"

He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, eyes fluttering at your words.

“Please…” His low croons grew needier by the second. “Lemme touch you….”

Arthur was desperate, craving your touch. There was no way he could wait for you.

"You are touching me, baby"

He let out a shuddering sigh at that. The word “baby” sent a shiver down his spine, and only increased the desperation building up inside him.

“Ain’t enough…” He muttered, his hands gripping your waist tighter, and he pulled you flush against his body.

"I think its plenty" you smirk, teasing.

“You’re a tease, ya know that…?” He growled lowly, his gaze sharpening with lust.

He ducked his head, nose pressing into the crook of your neck. He inhaled softly; the sweet, subtle scent of your skin driving him wild again.

[jalluzas-ferney]

I have a silly CRACK AU where morro instead of possessing Lloyd he just possesses a cat and gets himself adopted by the ninja just to make Wu and Lloyd’s life miserable undercover. All the ninja love him except for Lloyd and Wu ofc, who are constantly getting scratched, having their stuff scratched, broken, and even shat or pissed on. And yeah, morro also uses his powers to fucking haunt them too and which confused Wu to no end because either morro possessed the cat (which is correct) or the cat is the next elemental master of wind . Lloyd ofc thinks Wu is slowly going insane after he told him this.

All the other ninja think the cats wind powers are awesome tho and since they literally have a lightning chicken I don’t think they’d be too shocked at a wind cat. Ofc they call morro “windy” or some shit (to morros dismay).

Although morro wasn’t planning to nor expecting to become attached to any of the ninja or even enjoy their company sm…he ofc did overtime)

And if ur wondering this is Morros personal tier of most favorite to least

Cole (found him along with Nya. Loves his good natured, protective and caring energy. Since He and Nya are the ones they’re the ones that take care of him the most. Also the best to cuddle with. Which is embarrassing for him but also he’s possessing a cat and he can’t help it ok.)

Nya (like I said. She found him with Cole so she’s one of the ones that take care of him the most so he’s naturally more attached. But also he really likes of soothing and caring she is at times. Finds her very entertaining finds her overall vibe great. Only reason she’s below Cole is that she’s louder than him and is a more hot headed which can drive him away from her sometimes. But overall he actually thinks she’s great)

Pixal (actually warm and very nice and peaceful. But she doesn’t rlly mind or care for him that much. To her he’s just kinda there)

Zane (loves his vibe. But kinda low because he’s so cold. At least according to my hc)

Kai (bros in thin ice. Only reason he’s above Jay is because of his body heat. But yeah, he finds him annoying most of the time, cannot stand his ass lmao.)

Jay (fucking hates him just because💀 like I dunno man he just does LMAO. bro find shim obnoxious just like Kai.)

Wu (obvious reasons)

Lloyd (again. Obvious. Only reason he’s below Wu is because morro subconsciously does still love Wu deep down and actually know him. While Lloyd he’s got no reason to like him. At least at first…)

(I didn’t plan on making such a long post ab this damn. This is just a silly au but I gotta keep talking)

Ofc over time morro does begin to like everyone more and more. Even his least favorites! Hell this is actually a way for morro to slowly see Wu, and mainly Lloyd’s side. See how Lloyd struggled with the responsibility of being the green ninja. How heavy it weighs in him, and he’s able to actually drastically calm down and let go of his obsession for the green ninja when he’s able to see Lloyd’s experience up close. Since he’s a cat they don’t really think too much of his presence in personal or intimate moments. Só morros probably walked into Lloyd crying or talking to himself, or even Lloyd finding himself venting to morro thinking he’s just venting to the cat that doesn’t understand anything he’s saying.

Eventually morro DOES unposses the cat. (The cats ok and not traumatized. No domt think ab it too hard let’s just say the cats fine and they keep him) but yeah. This happens around a year or so of staying with the ninja? Which is a WHOLE bunch but can u blame him? It’s a really awkward situation to suddenly reveal who he was all along. It was obviously. A massive shock. Like. Nya faints. It’s a very very awkward situation ofc. Especially because during his time as a cat he’s come across a lot of embarrassing situations for the ninja (Kai for one would consalty vent to him or just talk about random bullshit to him when no one was watching. Hes so cringe. Hes also walked into Jay singing. Jay. Does not sing well. And other stupid shit)

Anyways he stays with them for the rest of time and they love happily ever after hurray

[venusflytrapm]

prelude to this?? Touya Todoroki x Reader. pretty short and unedited. i think... they have a pretty heated makeout session but idk if its too explicit MDNI 18+ only. veryy self indulgent quirkless AU

Touya has a full-length mirror on the wall opposite his bed. He wasn’t allowed a TV in his room (it's not like they could afford it anyway), so he chose to decorate his room in odd ways. The 2000s punk posters to the middle-finger shaped candle on his dresser. 

He’s silently patting himself on the back for his choices since you seem to like them. 

You step around his room, picking up a few knick knacks here and there before stopping in front of the mirror.

You’re not supposed to be here right now. Rei would have a cow if she walked in and found him alone with a girl in his bedroom. He usually wouldn’t be so reckless, and it wasn’t like you two had done anything, you just happened to be a girl he liked alone in his room.

“I like your room.” Your voice breaks him from his thoughts. He glances up at you, and you’ve turned around to look at him. You have this smile on your face that’s making his chest ache with an unfamiliar feeling. 

Touya flops back on the bed and grins. “Really?” He asks teasingly. “What about it?” 

You make no move to get on the bed, instead you take a glance around his room and laugh. His room isn’t how you expected, but it's so much of him at the same time. It's like walking into the personified version of his soul. “I don’t know actually,” you turn back to the mirror, watching how Touya runs a hand through his hair while he lies down. It’s one of his anxiety tics you’ve come to adore. 

“I think it's the mirror.” You say finally. “But you do know it's bad luck to sleep with a mirror in front of your bed, right?” You’re teasing him; he can hear it in your voice. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he sits up with a grin and pats the bed beside him. “Stop staring at yourself and come here.” 

“Oh, Mr. Todoroki, don’t you know it’s not very gentlemanly to ask a lady to your bed?” You mirror his grin but oblige nonetheless, sitting on the side of the bed. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you liked me or something.” 

His arm hooks over your shoulders to pull you further into his bed, and his stomach curls at the way you laugh with him. He’s never been this vulnerable with anyone. Maybe he won’t be vulnerable with anyone else ever again, especially if you keep smiling at him the way you do right now. Maybe he’ll spontaneously combust. 

Suddenly, your smile falters, and everything in the room seems to slow: the AC, the whirl of his fan, and the soft chirping of the birds outside. He’s too focused on that to notice your hands cupping his face and the soft press of your lips against his. 

It doesn’t take long for you to be pulled onto his lap, the two of you trapped in a heated makeout session.

Your tongue is in his mouth, and he’s making the most embarrassing noises he’s ever made in his life. He can’t help but glance at the two of you in the mirror, how you’re straddling his waist and kissing him like you need him to breathe. He’s cursing himself internally for even thinking of fucking you with his family in the house. 

“Touya,” You groan against his lips, to which he’s nodding and squeezing your hips. 

You’re grinding against him, and he’s bucking his hips against yours. The whines he lets out are heavenly, you have half a mind to think this is his first time being in a situation like this.

Those thoughts are put to rest when he slips his hand under your shirt to graze your nipples, tugging and cupping your tits. It makes your back arch, and you’re back to kissing him with as much fervor as before. 

Heavy petting has you close, /so close/ your senses are all heightened, you can feel your heartbeat in your throat, and his pants grow louder and louder in your ears. 

You’re there, you’re there, so close-

The door swings open, and Fuyumi is standing there in her pajamas. She’s clearly about to speak before her mouth falls open in shock. Touya shoves you off of him, and his sister is red with embarrassment, shutting the door just as fast as she opened it. 

You shriek and throw a pillow at him. “I can’t believe-” 

“You started it! You kissed me first- fuck, I think I’m gonna throw up.” Touya allows the pillow to hit the top of his head, and he gags and heaves at the realization of what occurred.

You grab the small overnight bag you brought and move towards his window. “You better call me, I'm traumatized right now, but we’re finishing this,” you say sternly and push his window open.

Touya runs a hand over his face and groans. “Uh huh- just go before my mom gets here.” 

He knows that Fuyumi is bringing her over right now, and he curses himself for not locking the door when you got here last night. 

“Bye Touya,” You say with a smile, you’re half out the window, and he awkwardly waves at you. 

And when you’re gone, and he can’t focus on Fuyumi yelling at him as his mom stands in the door, confused, he knows he’ll ask you out properly the next time you two meet.

[fellulahh]

Diavolo accidentally meets MC’s parents

“What did you fancy doing today?” MC asked as she dried off the mug she’d just washed. “Is there a list of things you want to tick off?”

Diavolo was in the human realm for a few days visiting MC. The trip was long overdue; being the future King of Devildom, it was very rare he’d get the chance to leave for such a long period of time.

However, after countless long nights and with Barbatos’ help, Diavolo managed to escape his duties for a weekend with MC.

“How about a bar?” Diavolo suggested, watching MC as she finished cleaning up after her morning beverage.

“A bar?” MC chuckled, glancing over shoulder at the demon.

“Yes!” He grinned, “I think it’ll be fun having a drink while I’m in the human realm. Unwind a little you know?”

“Okay,” MC laughed, “I’ll take you to a bar; there’s one I think you’d like in town.”

“Excellent!” Diavolo smiled excitedly, taking a step further into the room.

Just as their conversation ended, the Prince was distracted by movement in the corner of his eye. Out of the window, he noticed a car pull into MC’s driveway.

“Are you expecting someone?” He asked, turning back to meet MC’s eyes.

“No?” She answered confused, stepping next to the demon to look out of the window. “Oh god it’s my parents.”

With a cheeky grin, Diavolo turned to face MC. “Is it now?”

The human found his gaze and pulled a face at him. “Don’t get any ideas.” She warned with a laugh.

“Would I ever?” He raised an eyebrow, holding his hands up defensively.

“Wait here.” MC shook her head at him.

Disappearing out of the room, the human headed to the front door to greet her parents.

“Hello!” She smiled as she opened the door, “what are you doing here?”

“Your Father and I are going to see your Nan so I thought I’d pick up the dry cleaning you had done for her.” MC’s Mum informed her.

“Oh yeah, sure.” MC nodded, letting her parents in.

Leading them through the house, MC headed toward the kitchen. She smiled at Diavolo as she re-entered. The human had intended to introduce him, however, her Mum beat her to the chance.

“Oh hello!” She greeted surprised, with a smile on her lips. “I hadn’t realised MC had company.”

“Mum, this is…Dia.” MC trailed off.

“Dia,” her mum repeated - still with a big grin on her face - “what an unusual name.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He greeted warmly, returning the smile. Stepping forward, he held out his arm to shake MC’s Dad’s hand.

Her Dad eyed the up the tall figure in front of him as he shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.” He nodded simply.

While they were sharing their introductions, MC’s mum quickly gave a daughter a suggestive look. The human could only smile sheepishly at her mother.

“So what do you two have planned today?” MC’s mum asked excitedly.

“Dia’s not from here so I thought I’d show him around town and we’d go to a few bars.” MC answered as Diavolo nodded with a smile.

“Not from around here?” Her Mum questioned raising an eyebrow, “does that mean you’re here for the weekend?”

“Don’t worry, MC’s already told me I’m in the spare room.” Diavolo quipped, earning a laugh from MC’s mother.

“Well I hope she’s made the bed…” her Mum commented.

“I have, don’t worry.” MC shot a look at her mother.

“Well Dia you must be special because I’ve never seen the place so spotless.” Her mum continued.

“Do you mind?” MC laughed.

“Really?” He questioned, turning to MC dramatically with a grin. “Oh I do feel honoured.”

“Oh my…” MC spoke quietly shaking her head, her cheeks going red.

“Alright well we better leave you two be then.” MC’s Mum smiled, noticing her daughter’s embarrassment. “You two have a lovely weekend! MC I want to hear all about it after.”

“Yep. Thanks Mum.” MC smiled awkwardly, as she felt Diavolo’s hand on her shoulder.

Quickly turning her head to face him, she playfully rolled her eyes as he mouthed an innocent ‘what?’

“It’s been a pleasure to meet you both.” Diavolo spoke warmly, earning another toothy smile from MC’s Mum.

“And you, Dia!” She gleamed. “Hopefully we’ll see you again soon.”

“Nice to meet you.” MC’s dad piped up, nodding at Diavolo.

“Say hello to Nan for me.” MC spoke as she lead them back toward the door; making sure to grab the dry cleaning first.

Her parents said their goodbyes before MC shut the door, returning to the kitchen once again.

Stood in the middle with a big grin on his face, Diavolo’s amber eyes met hers.

“You know you’re going to have to keep coming back now, don’t you?” She laughed at him.

“I’d be delighted!” He smiled.

“Alright, grab your coat funny man - we’re going drinking.” She rolled her eyes again before breaking out into a smile.

Spoiler: Diavolo doesn’t sleep in the spare room

[unpossession]

dash game. put your repeat playlist on shuffle, list the first 10 songs, then tag 10 people to do the same.

001. punish- ethel cain 002. uncle - nicole dollanganger 003. tammy faye - nicole dollanganger 004. amber waves - ethel cain 005. heat lightning - mitski 006. onanist - ethel cain 007. soft and tame - the ophelias 008. the giver - chappel roan 009. nymphs finding the head of orpheus - nicole dollanganger 010. etienne - ethel cain

swiped from @swallowrot

[peace-hunter]

Hey! How’s it going?

I was just wondering what are the dynamics between Optimus and his thirteen ghostie siblings individually?

haunted au

oh boi.

i'm gonna warn you, there's some dynamics i've given more thought to than others and it shows. sorry about that.

also this got very, very long so i'm gonna put it under a read more.

okay here we go:

1- zeta is the strict older brother trying to keep OP alive at almost any cost. he still feels guilty for leading his siblings to their deaths and is maybe trying to atone for it by doing everything he can to get OP through a war. this mostly means pushing him harder than the rest of their siblings, because he wants OP to handle anything that comes his way.

and OP really wants to make zeta proud. he's low-key still in shock at receiving the Matrix and terrified of messing up in a way he can't fix, so he's really glad he has zeta to guide him through his stumbling even if more often than not he ends up self-conscious with the corrections he gets. he can't help comparing himself to zeta and feel like he's failing to measure up to him.

they have the hardest time out of everyone to reach a balance on how much zeta can influence optimus' decisions without it just being him dictating what should be done.

2- prima is a bit of a mother-hen and OP doesn't mind nearly as much as he probably should. seeing as zeta took the more strict role, prima found himself taking on a more supportive, almost care-taking one. he's the one that nags OP the most about taking care of himself and whether or not he's pushing himself too hard trying to be the Prime everyone expects him to be.

and OP feels like he should mind more than he actually does but it's just. it's nice. to be taken care of. he feels like he has to be strong for everyone else around him but prima makes him feel like it's okay if he's not sometimes. carrying the Matrix makes him feel so much older than he actually is most of the time, but sometimes prima treats him like a sparkling and it's. it's kinda nice.

prima is almost definitely the one optimus is closest to. partially because receiving prima's cog made them develop a bond that makes it easier for them to feel what the other is feeling which in turn makes their communication pretty open. but also because while with the others OP had to slowly lose his hero worship and learn to love them as just people, it's really hard to be star-struck by someone who is constantly nagging you about whether you're sleeping enough or not (/▽＼)

3- vector is pretty strict and a bit of rule stickler which does mean he and OP don't always agree on what's the best thing to do. they get along fine enough, they just... have a hard time vibing with each other.

OP spent his whole life chaffing against an unfair system and unjust rules, before finding out the horrible reason of why they existed, which makes him inherently suspicious of any kind of protocol he doesn't understand or doesn't see the point of.

vector loves protocol and rules and thinks they're there for a reason even if you don't always see it at first.

they struggle to find a balance until vector understands that OP doesn't just hate rules for the sake of hating them, he needs to understand why they're there and what purpose they serve before he acquiesces to follow them. once he gets where OP is coming from, it's a lot less frustrating to have to explain why certain protocols and rules exist.

and OP starts liking vector a lot more once he stops feeling like vector is trying to force him to follow useless directives that serve no purpose. once he sees vector is willing to sit down and explain to him why certain things are done the way they are, it's easier for him to not instinctively reject rules or protocols he doesn't immediately understand. he learns to trust that there's probably a reason behind everything and it's not always malicious. even if he ends up deciding he still doesn't agree with it, at least he's willing to learn more about it first.

4- alpha trion and orion have a mutual soft spot for the other and they enjoy spending time with one another very much!

AT was the only one that got to see Orion as a cogless miner trying so hard to make things right even when he had almost no power in his hands to do it. he was the one that saw a spark in him that could light up their world again. he saw the little bot that refused to stand down in the face of a giant injustice. and he will always love orion for that. for the hope he gave him in a time where everything seemed hopeless.

but he was also the one that set him and his friends in a path that led them to so much pain. he cannot regret it, revealing sentinel's lies was far too important and there was too little time to hesitate, but he does feel guilty for the part he played in what happened after. and it's that guilt that leads to him being more patient, more sympathetic to OP's weakness when it comes to megatron.

and to OP alpha trion will always feel a little larger to life, even after their size difference isn't as big as it was before. to him alpha trion will forever be the person who took the blindfold off his eyes. the one that confirmed that orion wasn't crazy for thinking things weren't right. that not only told him he, and everyone else, deserved the right to choose what they wanted to be, but also enabled them to make that choice.

he lowkey imprinted on alpha trion back in that cave lol

and on a more lighthearted note they both really enjoy spending time in the archives! they bond over a shared love for history and the importance of accurate records. and orion spent a lot of time listening to alpha trion's voice back when he used to sneak into the archives. he can barely believe he now gets to listen to the real thing and not just a recording!

he can't help but think that maybe in another world, in a better life, if he was very lucky, he could've worked in the archives under alpha trion's tutelage. he knows it's only a fantasy. but it's a nice one.

5- solus and optimus get along pretty well! she doesn't give him as much grief about megatron as the others do, not because she doesn't think it's a bad idea, but because she's kinda curious about it. she's very much a "let's see where this goes" kinda gal, even if she's relatively sure the results will go badly. so while she will let optimus know exactly what she thinks of megatron, she also lowkey doesn't discourage him from his attempts at reconnecting with him. she can respect the hustle of trying to fix something everyone else has deemed irreparable.

and optimus appreciates this! not quite enough to let solus take control of him so she can mess around in wheeljack's lab, but enough that he will hang around and act as translator so those two can bounce ideas off each other for far longer than he would otherwise lol

6- micronus shares OP's distaste for rules he doesn't understand or agree with so the two of them (and amalgamous) will team up against vector when they feel he's being particularly overbearing. the bond that rebelling against authority (an older sibling) creates between two people cannot be understated. their relationship is a simple one but very close nonetheless. micronus is one of the most affectionate of the group and he made OP feel very welcome into the family very quickly. he's also one of the most lighthearted about their situation. he thinks that as long as they're all together, not even the pits could be such a bad place to be in. his good attitude is contagious and OP gravitates towards him whenever he starts feeling a little too down.

7- alchemist is a more gentle, even tempered and lowkey presence. so while he and optimus don't spent a lot of time one-on-one, the time they do spend together is pretty nice for both of them. sometimes OP needs just a nice, simple conversation that won't touch of heavier topis and alchemist offers that. he tells optimus stories that weave science and mysticism so tightly it makes OP wonder how anyone can think they're irreconcilable with one another. he does give optimus high grade recipes he's pretty sure could kill someone if not prepared carefully enough tho lol

8- nexus on the other hand is loud, wildly creative and unpredictable. there is a reason he's the first one that discovered how to levitate in ghost form. the fact he couldn't turn if off afterwards is irrelevant. he's full of good humor, loves pranks and always has a joke on the tip of his tongue. OP loves him very much but he does find him a bit... grating at times. he understands why nexus tries to make all of them smile and laugh as much as he can but... he can't help but wish he wouldn't try so hard all the time. he's certain that as orion he would've not only taken it in stride, but even joined in. but as optimus he just... he no longer finds smiling as easy as he used to. nexus attempts at making him smile only emphasize how much more effort it takes nowadays.

9- onyx was a little bit intimidating to optimus at first, but once he got over his awe at the slightly mystic prime, he found himself enjoying his company pretty easily. onyx has a different perspective on many things, much more spiritual than the rest of his siblings, and while optimus doesn't always get what he means, he enjoys listening to him anyway. and the way he describes flying almost makes OP wish he had wings too.

10- amalgamous and optimus get along pretty well thanks to amalgamous' gentle but free-spirited temper and their relationship only strengthens upon the discovery that both of them have a natural irreverence for authority figures. the bond that being rebellious together creates is a strong one. the fact they're also authority figures does not escape their notice, but they're firm believers of the "i am not excluded from 'fuck'em' when relevant" mentality so it's fine.

amalgamous is also one of the firsts that starts pushing back the moment he feels zeta and vector are putting too much pressure on OP or imposing their opinions on him too much. while prima will speak up on behalf of optimus' well-being more often, it is amalgamous that defends optimus' independence most fiercely.

11- quintus is another quiet presence that doesn't make a lot of waves except when he feels compelled to speak up against the more ruthless approaches their siblings suggest. but otherwise he doesn't stand out as much as the others do. optimus' gets the feeling it wasn't always like that, the stories the others tell him of better times before the war hinting at a wild creativity and idealism he can't quite see in the quintus he knows. but the way even those hints vanish entirely once they start speaking of the war makes him wonder if they're related.

12-liege maximo is maybe the closest any of the primes get to being optimus' brother in every sense of the word. they're all family, they're all siblings, they all love each other but it is liege that makes optimus understand what the cain instinct means.

liege teases OP constantly and is delighted at the fact optimus is not afraid to give back as good as he gets. everyone else is a bit too over-protective of the kid in his opinion and it is his duty as fellow younger sibling to keep the baby of the family humble.

and OP is glad he gets one person he can be a little glitch with. as Prime there's an unspoken... decorum or property everyone around expects from him and he's... not like that. he misses being able to joke and mess around with his friends, he misses being able to be a little immature and even rude and not worry about whether it'll cause a political or social scandal.

and it's not like he's not close to or relaxed around the other primes, but there's still a little part of him that can't forget he used to hero-worship all of them and that part of him still screeches any time he's kinda rude to them. he's working on it.

but liege manages to get under his plates like no one else, he gets to the irreverent little glitch remnants of orion that optimus buries deep down inside himself most of the time and it's fantastic. the fact he can see liege visibly enjoys their little spats also helps.

on a gentler note, sometimes when OP is struggling to fall asleep, liege will tell him stories to pass the time. after all, storytelling is lying adjacent and liege is a very good liar. they both enjoy it more than they'd like to admit.

13-megatronus' relationship with optimus is... complicated. but maybe not exactly the way people expect it to be.

yes, at first the mere sight of him made him want to violently sob but like. what didn't make him want to cry those first few days. yes megatronus was a reminder of Dee, a painful one even, but so was literally everything else. dee was so ingrained into every single aspect of orion's life, it would've been easier to name the ones he wasn't.

when he couldn't even do vital tasks, like eating or sleeping, without it being a struggle to not crumble under the devastating guilt and heartbreak festering inside his chest, seeing megatronus is like. not even in the top ten of his list of issues tbh.

and afterwards, by the time when every day is a little easier to get through, he already got to know megatronus enough to see him more as person and less as dee's idol. of course it's not right away, not completely painless, you don't erase years of memories of someone you used to hold dearest to your heart just like that, but it's. it's a start.

he gets to make his own relationship with megatronus, his own memories with him, untainted by the pain of losing dee.

and their relationship in itself it's pretty nice. megatronus is a little overprotective of optimus (why the fuck is he so tiny???) but he doesn't really get the chance to be overbearing with it because. well. what can he really do. so instead it manifests into teaching optimus how to defend himself the best he can. the kid has pretty good instincts already but megatronus wasn't the greatest warrior who ever lived for nothing. he still has a lot he can teach OP.

and OP loves learning from him. he doesn't enjoy fighting, but he loves learning new things and the rush of getting a new move right is addicting. he also knows that if he gets through his training fast enough they're ahead of schedule he can get megatronus to tell him first hand stories of events he has read about hundreds of times.

no one is as good as alpha trion in telling stories, but megatronus is a close second.

their main point of contention is, of course, megatron.

megatronus is very bitter over what megatron has done with his name, his t-cog and his legacy. there is no hiding that, not even if he wanted to. and he doesn't. he's the most outspoken in his disdain for his actions and, after a while, the mech himself. at first he tried to be comprehensive and not push optimus too much, because he knows how much dee meant to him, but there's a point when he's just. done. with the topic. he believes there's only one solution to the war is and he wants optimus to understand it before he has to pay too high a price for his hesitation.

and optimus... cannot accept that.

logically, he knows megatronus is probably right. he knows that there'll be a line megatron will cross and won't be able to come back from.

he knows it will be then his duty to stop megatron no matter what it takes.

but... not yet. please. not yet.

and megatronus won't say it doesn't disappoint him. he just knows that optimus' reluctance to kill megatron will blow up on his face one day. but it's fine. what's family for if not to say "i told you so" while helping to get you out of trouble.

[grassbreads]

On a scale of Chang Geng to Luo Binghe, how well does your teenage protagonist cope with the realization that he has a massive thing for the guy that's basically raising him?

[quaranmine]

shared annotated version of IDL with irl friend. only person i know irl other than my mom who's read it :0 but we were talking about writing this weekend and I've known her my entire life and she's responsible for introducing me to a couple life-altering fandom experiences (cough, doctor who) sooooo I was like. Why am I Afraid

hope she likes it :) and is prepared, perhaps, to cry-