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deafsignifcantother · 3 months

Text

the v's reaction to someone taking your hearing aid

♥ summary: "what the Vees would do if they noticed their partially deaf s/o being picked on - like the other people would tear out their hearing aid(s) and break them and stuff" @aceduchessdragoness ♥ characters: velvette, vox, valentino ♥ notes: screaming and crying okay so i did val's spanish as spain spanish bc i think spain sign language would be better than narrowing his signs down to a specific latin american country but if the translation is cringe then tell me bc i'm literally using an lse dictionary

Vox

♥ word count: 1.9k ♥ notes: i use [Y/N] for the first time in my career ong, she/her pronouns used in third person, reader doesn't speak and only signs, protective but violent vox, vox in a healthy relationship, reader gets harassed in public

It was never a mystery to you how Vox always knew where you were. Even without the watch on your wrist, you felt his eyes on you, the looming knowledge of persistent monitoring.

Not that it bothered you, of course. If anything, you were worried that he wanted to spend his time watching you instead of running his business. But whatever, it was flattering.

Whenever you went on your routine errands, you would smile at every television or security camera you encountered. On the big screens in Vox's room, he feels like the common softening of his heart. Your smile always seems so genuine. How can somebody like you adore him so much?

Blue light illuminates your living room. From the kitchen, you groan as you make your way to the television. Can he stop bothering you at this hour? All you wanted to do was get some damn water, but of course, as always, he's monitoring you.

Words pop up on the screen as you approach it. You rub your eyes, the brightness overwhelming. You reach for your coffee table.

GO TO SLEEP

With the sudden click of the remote, you smile as the screen goes black. One, two, three... it lights up again.

DON'T TRY

Again, the screen goes black. One... again, a bright blue illuminates you.

[Y/N]. The television shakes.

You snicker at him, finally sitting on the floor and putting the remove down. On the other side of that screen, Vox sits on his swivel chair, gazing up at you, your frame taking up multiple monitors. Your eyes look below where his point of view is.

"It's late," you sign, and the light makes your hands shine in the darkness. "Dim it a little."

He listens; his small act of consideration makes you melt. Your eyes soften immensely. Internally, he begs you to stop looking at him like that; it's embarrassing how good it makes him feel.

The television is still a blinding blue as you go from the living room to the bedroom; he follows you per any screen by your side. Worst of all, a flat-screen faces your bed, which was mandatory.

"Goodnight, Vox." You sign while putting your face up to the screen.

You turn this TV off, and to your delight, it stays off.

With a yawn, you stretch your morning aches away and lean your head against the table of your vanity. You get a few seconds of shut-eye before popping back up. Vox is watching; if he notices you're tired, he will try to be domestic and nap with you regardless of how much work you must do today. So you rub away your sleepy eyes and massage the tension in your jaw. Putting on your hearing aid is first on your daily to-do list; you'd like to hear if he pops up on your television and decides to update you on his morning. Sometimes, he gets so impatient. Next, while picking up your moisturizer, you try not to shiver at the coldness once it touches your fingers.

You wish yourself a good morning before rubbing it in.

At the same time of day, Vox was already up and doing his rounds, making sure his employees were getting work done. He gets antsy between when you wake up, and you get to the tower. Every morning once he sees you entering the elevator, he'll wait on the other side to welcome you in with a kiss to the forehead.

Vox checks his watch. It shows his favorite things: your vitals, location, and pretty little face whenever you dial him.

You've finally left your place, thank goodness. Pacing aimlessly has never looked good on him.

He stands by his window, looking down at the streets below, watching you approach. You're wearing your usual uniform, one that he picked out just for you; it consists of the same red and blue stripes he has on his everyday suit. It makes you an eyesore in the everyday crowd.

If you didn't know any better, you'd lift your head to see if you could spot him among the many stories. The building is beautiful, overpowering. The V tower's magnificent brightness outshines the rest of the V district. The constant noise of people always has you walking with your hearing aid turned as low as it can go without turning off.

With the pink light reflecting off your face, you look both ways before crossing the street, a bright smile on your face, stepping onto the asphalt before a hand grabs your wrist.

Vox furrows his brow at the sight.

You turn your head and see a friendly reporter and a cameraman, the camera not yet rolling. Your pupils flicker between them.

"Hello!" She smiles, removing her hand. With caution, you fully face her, stepping back onto the sidewalk. The 'professional' persona you've been forced to practice is finally coming to fruition.

"Hello! I'm Deaf; I don't think I'd be able to do an interview."

She flicks her hand and rolls her eyes in the most friendly way possible. "Not a problem," she signs, moving the microphone vibrantly, "I can work this out, no problem!"

You widen your eyes in a wowwwww, oh my god, that's perfect... "Oh, what a kind woman you are!"

Vox? You beg internally. Baby? Save me.

Up high, he doesn't remove his eyes from you. With the use of sign language, he can't listen in, and he can't tell whether he needs to intervene or not. There's nothing wrong with going to check, right? Or will he seem possessive, or scared? He doesn't want people to think he doesn't want you to talk to anyone. It's good that you get to sign to someone other than him and Velvette, right?

The camera starts rolling, and you square your shoulders, adjusting your sleeves for more mobility. The news reporter throws the microphone at the cameraman, who does not catch it but ignores it as she shows off her brightest smile.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen, I have the sweetest person in hell with me, [y/n]! Tell me, how long have you two been together?"

Of course, the news has been recognizing you recently. You've been seen countless times adjusting Vox's tie (he purposely fucks it up so that you'll step close to him) as well as wrapping your arm around his and pinching the corner of his screen endearingly before you give him a babying compliment. Many people have taken pictures and edited hearts around you two. People are obsessed with how "heavenly" your relationship is.

"Oh, many months now!" You nod to yourself, trying to stop your eyes from shining with admiration. You always get so soft when you think about him; it's one of the things people notice. She looks at him as if he's her entire world.

"Beautiful!" The reporter puffs out her bottom lip innocently. "I'm sure you make that man very happy."

What do you even say to that? I hope so.

"The happiest."

"Now," she doesn't hesitate to change the topic. "Are there any challenges you two face about your... differences?"

Your eyebrows raise before furrowing in confusion. Differences? At first, you think she means his television head, but when she notices you pause, she rudely clarifies. "I mean, with your lack of hearing, you know? Don't you find it a little embarrassing?"

You lean your body away from her. "What are you saying?"

The shock of the tonal shift has you freezing in place. The reporter looks at the camera, her eyes squinting with sadistic amusement. Her fingers twitch as she lifts her arm, not even looking at you before plucking the hearing aid from your ears. She crushes it in her hand.

At first, you grab your ear, pressing your hand to it in disbelief. Your face contorts, your shoulders dropping as you try to step away. Why couldn't you see this coming? And on television—is that where this is airing? The air around you goes quiet, the sensation of spatial awareness fading a bit as you stumble back, your hand still grasping your ear. The watch on your wrist hits your cheek, and without a second thought, you tap on the screen repeatedly. The next thing that popped into your head: her bravery is the most surprising.

With a brief fall of light, Vox stands where the lady once was. You eye him with uncertainty, a look you have never given him. He faces the cameraman, not looking your way. Your eyes go up and down his body; his stance is tense, his arms are folded behind his back, and his fingers sparking with small glimmers of electricity.

You see that lying behind him is the woman, body entirely limp, smoke coming from her mouth, and her eyes looking stuck open.

He speaks to the camera, pointing his finger at it, staring intensely into the shaking, blinking red light. Your hands link around his bicep. Composure, you remind yourself. You turn to the camera with a weary smile and lean your head against him.

"That'll never happen again." He stares at himself in the mirror. His dressers and tables are filled with claw marks from his previous meltdowns.

You just sit on his bed, crossing your legs uncomfortably, watching him as he goes back and forth between signing to you and mumbling to himself. You haven't said a word. You just keep your eyes on him.

He protected you in the way he knew best. He wanted nothing more than to put his hands on the sides of her head and crush her skull. It would stain his suit, awful. Even worse, your suit would have been ruined, too.

Should he force you to move into the tower? He's always wanted to. The commute would be no more, and you'd be safe from the outside.

Should he prevent you from leaving at all without him? No, that might be too much, but his entire body craves to keep you secure and protected.

He won't ask you what you want. He knows there's a chance you would just coddle him and tell him it's okay. There's no reality where he will do nothing; he must devise his own plan. But first (actually, secondly, after getting his anger out on his furniture), he wants to make sure his sweetheart is okay.

Once he calmed down and sat next to you, rubbing your thigh, he watched as you scrolled through social media, looking at the hundreds of people laughing and reposting the event. He shuts off your phone, grabs it, and tosses it across the room. You roll your eyes helplessly before he lifts his hands and signs to you.

"I will track everyone down and punish them severely, baby. No one will ever touch you again, or else they will the next flashing headline."

"I know, baby," you wrap your arms around his chest and lean into him, rubbing your cheek against the smoothness of his overcoat.

You hum against him, finding it in yourself to smile softly. Protector, protector, protector. You run those words through your head; they're comforting to their own extent. Suppose he ends up locking you inside the tower. In that case, it's better than him leaving you entirely over this (which, obviously, he'd never actually do). Spending every morning and night with him wouldn't be wrong. Everything happens for a reason.

He leans back onto the bed, his feet dangling off as you curl into his side.

Before resting completely, you use a hand to sign into his chest. "Everything will be fine."

Your coddling, though annoying, provides the most relaxing warmth to his body. He groans, wrapping an arm lazily around you, feeling the usual butterflies in his stomach as you press a small kiss to his collarbone.

Velvette

♥ word count: 1.6k ♥ warnings: reader speaks, part scene, getting harassed by a man, vox is in this too ♥ a/n: i completely headcanon that velvette took an asl class in highschool when she was alive, i have no idea how velvette usually acts in fanfiction so this is MY velvette now

Velvette found you, such a pretty thing, in your little corner of the internet, making content for your little community. That little corner of yours is where you told the news and interpreted a lot of banter from the overlords. Your channel was the perfect mix of education and drama, all for the Deaf community in Hell.

You were, as Velvette described, a tea channel.

She invited you to the V tower to show you around. The three V's introduced themselves to you in their own way, offering you a job. The bossman, ever so gentlemanly and charming, didn't let Valentino try and make sex motions to you for longer than necessary. And before Velvette forced Vox to scurry off, she forced him to snap a few pics of you posing with her as a faux collab.

You weren't stupid. You knew Velvette only wanted your attention to spread whatever brand she endeavored to popularize. But this might be a golden opportunity. You'd learn the behind-the-scenes from three different overlords, and the content you can produce will gather insane traction.

Velvette is just so sweet; the way she showed her care for you was just through gift-giving.

She loved putting together gift boxes for you, similar to the sorority kind. The boxes went from cute little baskets to a cardboard box resembling a PR send. These would always be set on your desk with a bit of note from her, each time she'd signed off her name with a heart.

Jackets, shoes, candies, jewelry, pens, everything. The gifts are versatile with familiar themes of hearts. Every day was like Valentine's Day when she was 'courting' you (did she even realize she was?).

She made you bags: totes, crossbody bags, clutches, phone pouches, coin purses, anything she thought you would need with an array of colors to match any outfit. She put in hair clips and pocket mirrors, cozy slippers and fancy journals.

She even got you two matching bracelets.

You love the smirk she wears whenever she notices you adorning anything she's given to you. Damn right, she thinks, I knew it would look good.

The most enormous box she'd ever given you was the day before one of her fashion shows. Inside were glorious clothes from her collection, all for you to pick out and wear. She really loved her stripes.

You put your hearing aid on, smiling at yourself in the mirror as you watch the charm she made you glisten in the light. With your bracelet ornamenting your wrist, you pat down your stripped outfit before taking a deep breath.

Your entrance reeks of reluctance. The temptation to retreat back to your room is unbearable. Seeing Velvette will definitely lift your mood; where is she? Surely, she'd be the highlight of the room, but amongst all the women with their eccentric colors and clothing shapes, you can't find your eye drawing to her anywhere.

The sounds of the party blend together in a nasty concoction; you can't help but turn your hearing aids off. The sound is similar to what it's like being outside in a heavy storm; the wind, the pouring rain, the blur and whine of the hearing aids. And instead of lingering by the double doors, you push into the crowd. You're the least recognizable in the crowd of celebrities, but it doesn't stop people from moving out of the way when you try to wiggle through. You're wearing stripes, her stripes. You're either bold or very special to her; they don't want to intervene.

But your stripes also get some people to stare at you longer than they would have otherwise. Across the room, in front of you, you notice a tall, almost shirtless model coming your way, directly staring at you. You break the quick eye contact before squeezing through a cluster of girls taking selfies. They won't let you through, grimacing but not laying any hands on you. When you turn to go the other way, the man is behind you, holding out his hand, waiting for you to put your hand in his.

You click on your hearing aid and scroll up. "What did you say?" You ask verbally, clearing your throat a bit.

His eyes bounce from yours to your hand, looking at what you're touching. His head tilts in interest. You don't like the sight of his smile.

"Oh wow." He says.

Immediately, "Yeah, no," Velvette puts her hands on your shoulders and tries to push you away. "I swear, don't even look at him, he's fucking insane."

He speaks over her, but you can't process his words over how close Velvette's lips are to your ear. Her warm breath sends goosebumps down your arms, and your spine straightens. This only makes her hum in amusement.

After turning and growling at him, she effortlessly maneuvers you away. Eyes watch you even closer now as she touches you. You let her guide you throughout the room with not a clue as to where she's leading you, if anywhere. But eventually, you two end up in front of a mirror the size of a wall.

She stares at you through the mirror. "Look at you," she signs, "extravagant as ever, darling."

"Thanks to you."

"Obviously." And she bumps her hip into yours. You laugh, mimicking the motion back.

You had ditched your initial motive of getting close to the V's to gain more information about them. They were fine people to hang out with, making you laugh and feel involved. Velvette gave you special attention that nobody in your afterlife has ever given. Her lipstick left stains on your cheek whenever she kissed you, and she made an 'appointment' in her schedule once a week to paint your nails the same black color as hers.

The afternoon went by quickly; you spent time clapping and watching models show off their garb. Velvette is a true talent.

But something ruined your evening. The air hummed with laughter and the rhythmic beat of music. Velvette had been whisked away by the other V's to overlook the crowd and count the people who had attended. Among the colorful crowd stood a familiar figure whose eyes sparkled with mischief. Different from last time, you don't notice when he starts to approach again.

"You," he coos, placing his hand under your chin. You must stare at his lips to comprehend his words over the music, an awful innuendo you wish you could have avoided. He leaned in closer to you, and in return, you leaned back. Valentino had told you a bunch of times to not worry if someone puts their hands on you, that it's a typical formality in Hell. You would always roll your eyes at him, never expecting a stranger to grab you like this.

You were mentally preparing yourself to dodge a kiss. But then, daringly, he leaned in and gently plucked the hearing aid from behind your ear, holding it aloft like a trophy. Fear flickered across your face, your hand instinctively reaching for it, but he pulled it away. The charm Velvette gave you dangles like a jewel.

"Don't," you say with desperation. He puts a finger in front of your face and waves it back and forth. He coos, using that hand to grab your face as if you were the most adorable thing he's ever seen.

Your eyes are locked on the charm, and it's brash jolts. You almost beg for him to just give you the charm back.

In the middle of a conversation with Vox, Velvette raises an eyebrow; shocked and pissed, she glared at whoever had torn off your hearing aid. She mumbles, "I'd tear their hearing aid off and break it."

Before she can move closer to you, Vox puts his hand in front of her while watching the interaction. "Think before acting, Velvette."

Her frustration turns into anger as she pushes his hand away. He lets her run off; he holds a hard stare as her pink hair bobs through the crowd.

Your eyes are stuck wide with shock, and a million things run through your head, all relating to the appropriate situational response.

True to your casual self, you were having a hard time not just jamming your hand in his eyes and kicking his shins. Would you make Velvette mad? Vox?--Would that result in you being removed from the V Tower? It's all so complicated. Though you were panicking over a 'quick' decision, you and the man stayed in that position for a few seconds. He stayed laughing, dropping the hearing aid and stomping on it.

At almost the same time, Velvette threw a glass from someone's hand at the man, perfectly aimed, hitting him in the face. She lets out a small "nice!" before rushing to you.

Her hand runs down your face, and she holds you tenderly, not turning to face Vox as he puts himself between her and the man. Your eyes bounce around the entire room. Will you ever get a break from being at the center of attention?

"We're leaving. Now." she signs in a single motion so quick that it makes you smile, relieving some of the stress that's been making your head pound. She's able to sign so naturally now.

The crowd splits into two.

Behind the both of you, Vox is declaring an end to the event, apologizing to the people for the inconvenience. Velvette keeps muttering about him under her breath; you can see her lips moving and her face grimacing.

She has beads in front of her, a bunch of small charms with string. She signs, looking up at you. "I should have killed him."

You just watch her craft another charm, laying on her bed and kicking your feet. "That would have been funny."

She scoffs and smiles, her painted lips turning upwards. Her fingers trace over the beads, deciding which one to pick up. She wants to make it different than the last one, but what should it look like? She picks up a pink heart with a slight hum before sliding it down onto the string. She whispers to herself, perfect.

Valentino

♥ word count: 1.7k ♥ note: reader is a vodka drinker, i'm obsessed with writing a loving valentino, reader doesn't talk very much and prefers sign, sexually suggestive things happening but it's not nsfw, kinda written like ass, drugs mentioned but no named just symptoms, takes place on porn set, valentino kills someone, blood description

Every time you step into the studio, you're hit by the smell of sex, mostly the sweetened stench of that strawberry lube he loves so much. Visiting his work is not usually something you do often, but he's seem to be so busy lately that you can't help but bring him a drink, the most beautiful drink in hell: vanilla vodka. You can already see him licking him lips.

Strawberry lube, so prominent in your nose.

His legs are crossed and he stares at the scene in front of him, his sunglasses hiding whatever his emotions are, but his lips are still in a prominent scowl.

Though, when he sees you, his expression changes drastically. He stands with so much excitement that the actors stop to see what he's reacting to. All eyes are on you, you shy away from the attention a bit but Val doesn't seem to notice, else care.

"Amor mío!" One of his hands signs, running down his cheek while his bottom two motions for a hug.

Before you can initiate a hug, he wraps his arms around you and brings you into his chest, trapping your arms in. He's warm, vibrantly so, it's hard not to melt against him. You couldn't be surprised if you let out a small moan at the contact. Oh, how I've missed you so much.

He pulls away quicker than you'd like and takes the bottle from your hand, holding it up close to his face so he can examine it. "Burnett's, oh you shouldn't have!"

He hesitates, torn between his responsibilities and the irresistible allure of having a drink with the person he was enamored with. He's not so easy to whisk away from work, therefore (of course), you seem to be the only person who he is at every beck and call.

You smile softly, "I knew you'd like it."

With a laugh, he takes your hand and spins you, his free hands popping open the bottle, ready to embark on whatever journey you had in store.

He turns and addresses his employees, granting them a small break before turning to you with his sharp smile.

And together, you slip away from the set, leaving behind the hustle and bustle of the studio for a simple moment of peace and luxury. Walls blazed with hues of pink and blue, you both find yourselves nestled on the fluffy couch in a lounge, a wineglass in your hand while he chugs from the bottle.

"You've been so busy." You sign. You switch the wineglass into your non dominant hand to avoid spilling any of the contents. Val holds the bottle with his bottom set of hands while signing with his top ones (he was originally going to do it the other way around).

“I know, princesa,” one of his hands comes up and squeezes your cheek. “Business calls, I cannot help myself.”

“Which is why I came to visit.”

The two of you clink glass upon glass before taking a drink. He’s trying not to finish the drink before you, he’s making sure to take his time. He doesn’t want you to leave as much as he doesn’t want to rush the break. His eyes go over your entire form and take you in, there feels like an eternity since he saw you last. Why do you have so much patience for someone like him? It’s astonishing. Surely someone as beautiful as you could find someone sweeter than her. But he’s grateful to have you, he’s mildly addicted to that internal battle of whether he wants to cherish you or own you (perhaps he can do both? Something he’s never done before).

“What?” You ask.

“Hm?” His fingers pinch together in the casual way of signing.

“You’re staring at me.”

“I can’t resist.”

“What were you thinking about?” You sign and lean forward, giving him bright eyes. Your gaze swallows him, moth to a flame.

He matches your body language, “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, amor mío.”

When he tries to grab your hand, you pull away. “You're acting as if you're wine drunk.” You sign. You have a sappy smile as you put your glass to your lips.

“Never,” he wiggles his fingers as he signs. You eye him carefully, debating asking if he's kept his favorite gun on him. There's nothing worse than a drunk Valentino.

After the wine break, he has to go back to work. He feels himself getting irritated as he walks back, why can't he just continue spending the day with you? Is it worth sending everybody home? No, he has a job to do, and he needs to complete it before relaxation. But maybe he'll consider taking breaks (his least favorite word) to spend time with you.

You follow, both of your hands holding his, clinging onto him like a child.

Everybody was still in the studio, waiting for his return, not daring to leave in fear of him coming back. Actors were talking to each other casually, away from the camera, it built a strange sense of community for you. They're so nice to each other off-camera.

He drags you to his chair still holding your hand as he sits in it.

Drinking with you had been a much-needed respite from these people. He made a mental note to gift you more wine.

You remove your hands from his and smile. “Get back to work, baby.”

Pearly white, sharp teeth show through his large smile. He presses his lips against each of your knuckles while his eyes skin over all of his actors, counting them. He makes eye contact with one particular one, a woman. They stare at each other for more than a second. She's scowling at him and he squints his eyes at her. The fuck is your problem?

She usually looks at him with sultry looks, but now there's a sharpness to them.

But his eyes peel away from her and go back to you, he leans forward and presses a slow kiss to your forehead. He signs low, almost as if he's whispering a secret. "I'll come see you after."

You smile and start turning away. "Good."

Upon noticing your departure, the actors and crew start returning to their places, keeping an eye on Valentino and any commands he might make. Their eyes are always on him, worried to test his anger. But not all the actors were worried about testing his anger.

"Hey," an actress grabs your hand before you could reach the door and you turn to her. She talks, her voice making your hearing aids buzz, "Are you guys like, dating? Are you dating the Valentino? Like, literally one of the V's."

Her words all bunch into one. You blink, taking time to think about both what she could be asking and the connotation behind it. "Yes?" It sounds more like a question than an answer. Is that the correct response?

She hums and nods, her eyes wide in amazement. Her pupils are large. Her cheeks are hollow and she has strong eyebags. With a distant sound from Val, him talking to the crew, she looks back at him before turning to you. "I mean like, why? Why would he want you?"

Oh no. You try to move away but she just follows you, stepping in front of you closer. It's like being cornered, being trapped in an almost unavoidable situation.

"Why wouldn't he?" You test with a squint of your eyes.

She just smiles at you. "Uhm," and her arm reaches over, grabbing the hearing aid from your ear, pinching it between her claws, "Obviously this."

You reach for it but she pulls it away from you, trying not to laugh.

So you do what you know is the best solution, you call his name, practically screaming it. "Val!"

At the sound of you using your voice he whips his head around. The air goes still, you can tell from the way she pauses. Her pause is only for a second, she reeks of hesitance and sudden worry. She looks at the hearing aid in her hand as if she's finally realizing what she had done and what was about to happen.

Before she can say another word, her entire body stiffs, her eyes widen before her pupils roll back. And then she's on the floor, almost falling onto you.

You wipe blood from your cheek and groan.

Val stares at you, his expression unreadable. In his hand is his jeweled gun. He pauses for a moment to take a long drag of his cigarette, letting out a cloud of red smoke before he looks at his gun with a toothy smile until he tucks it back into his belt.

He starts to approach you and for a second you're scared, it was a primal feeling. He walked like a king.

All you can do is watch him, frozen in place.

The first thing he does when he reaches you is bend in front of her body, plucking the hearing aid from her hand. It's bloody, the liquid drips from it as he lifts it up. He wipes some of it off on his shirt before handing it to you. He drops it into your open hands.

He speaks, knowing you'd have a hard time understanding. "Laying her slutty hands on my angel..."

You lean into his touch when he caresses your face. His eyes gaze at you, softening, his smile widening at how soft your eyes look. You're his greatest treasure. He gets off immensely from protecting you, he would ravish you to death in this moment if he could. Valentinos eyes drift down at the body and his pupils narrows as he glares at the dead woman. He's going to have to clean this up. Her blood is getting every where.

One of his thumbs rub against your cheek, touching the bloody smear. It stains your skin in a delectable way. So perfect.

He melts when he sees your soft eyes slowly start to match the mischievous smile growing on your face. He protected you and he was open about being dithered over her behavior, he didn't laugh at it or tease you about it. You don't doubt for an instant that he's the man of your dreams. He killed someone for you in an instant.

When you take his thumb into your mouth, sucking the blood, his spine straightens. He pulls away immediately and turns around, yelling at the his workers that filming will be cut short today.

He just can't wait any longer to spend some lovely time with you.

#hazbin hotel #vox x reader #x reader #deaf community #x deaf reader #x deaf s/o #velvette x reader #valentino x reader #velvette hazbin hotel #valentino hazbin hotel

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recovering-dungeon-lord · 2 months

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The first time I read Dungeon Meshi I was like “I love all these characters but Mithrun is hands down my favorite, it’s been a long time since I went this feral for a fictional character.” And like. That’s still true. I still absolutely adore Mithrun and he’s extremely important to me and his character arc is so beautiful and also I want to kiss him. BUT.

I’m not gonna lie, the way that like 85% of western fans either ignore Toshiro or straight up dislike him is turning me into a Shuro stan from the sheer injustice of it all.

He should get more love. He’s wonderful. It’s a little tricky to get a read on him initially but once you learn more about him he’s such an interesting character with so much going on under the surface. He seems like the stereotypical Stoic Eastern Warrior type, but it’s only because he’s using that stoicism to hide his shyness and uncertainty and fear of doing or saying the wrong thing. (And honestly, if you really thought Ryoko Kui of all people would write such a flat stereotype of a character you haven’t been paying attention). By the end of the series it’s shown that despite his issues Toshiro is a good and kind person beneath the impassive noble facade he’s been taught to put up his whole life.

And! He’s such a perfect character foil for Laios! Because they both struggle socially (personally I think Toshiro is also autistic, like Laios, but I’ll probably make a separate post abt that bc this one is already getting long), but in ways that contrast each other. This brings them into conflict when at their core they both crave the same thing: a deep connection with their peers that they’ve struggled to find their entire lives. They’re two sides of the same coin, at opposite ends of the spectrum of outward responses to a very similar internal experience. It’s really well done, as is, like, every character/relationship in DM.

Anyway if no one else is gonna ride or die for Nakamoto Toshiro then I will, god damn. I have to do everything myself around here.

#dungeon meshi #toshiro nakamoto #shuro #toshiro nakamoto dungeon meshi #shuro dungeon meshi #nakamoto toshiro #nakamoto toshiro dungeon meshi #(also i do realize that he has other die hard fans im not trying to act like im the first person ever to love him or anything)#(that last bit is just me being hyperbolic for the lols)

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imwetforyourmom · 3 days

Text

not her

pt4

warnings: swearing, smut, kissing, fingering, teasing, mouth covering (idfk), backshots/doggy (guys whats the difference??), slight praising, overthinking ig (?), js smut bc this chap was alr rllyyyy long and next chap will have everything (drama and other things I cant remeber)

taglist

a/n: i am sorry guys

PREVIOUS CHAPTER ~~~ NEXT CHAPTER

“please fuck me, matt, please”

that exact day, when matt left the janitors closet he left school entirely, how was he supposed to still attend school after breaking up with his girlfriend? he wasnt even sure if she was going to stay at school, but he’d rather go home then stay and see her at lunch and free periods.

he opened his bedroom door and shut it behind himself, locking the door and walking to his bed.

he collapsed onto it, finding the mattress to be a comfort for him, like the hug he needed.

of course he still felt horrible for breaking up with his girlfriend, she was his girlfriend. despite the fact he hung out with amelia more than her, he just didnt understand why y/n had to make it such a big deal that he had a girl friend and wanted to hang out with her. she just had to be so clingy, and absolutely destroy their relatonship.

what broke him more was that she was still clingy even after she went and kissed other men, more than once. she still wanted to hang out with him even after she offered herself up for other men. he wasnt sure if that was a good thing or not, but what truly mattered was that she cheated, and still had the audacity to want him.

it doesn’t matter, he told himself. you have amelia, he reminded himself. a small grin fighting its way onto his face at the thought of her, completely forgetting about y/n.

he knew he could trust amelia not to go to some other men and replace him so easily.

he knew amelia actually liked him for him.

matt laid in his bed, his eyes staring at the ceiling. his bed felt cold and empty, not how it usually did on the weekends. the blankets under his body didnt provide any warmth, it only laid under him with a presence, not living up to its purpose.

the pillow rested under his head didnt feel comfortable, his pillow was stiff and uncomfortable under his head, not sinking into the form of his head and providing a comfortable rest like it normally did, the usually soft fabric was now itchy against him. all it did was lay, lay and lay only, no comfort whatsoever.

the hug of his mattress didnt sink in when he rested in it, it stayed stiff and flat. not providing a soothe of peace to the ache in his muscles. it felt cold and empty—even with him in it.

normally his bed was a comforting and a safe haven, he didnt understand why it wasnt the same now, what changed?

he laid uncomfortably on his bed, before he realized something.

normally y/n would sleepover on the weekends, and now that they werent together anymore.. he was alone, and he wasnt used to it, speaking of how they were together for two years and she’d been doing it almost every weekend.

he told himself, it wasnt that he missed y/n, he missed feeling another person in his bed with him.

before he could double think it, he grabbed his phone from his pocket and tapped messages, pressing amelia’s contact and typing out a message.

‘hey!! did you want to come over tonight?’

there she stood, in his bedroom, beside him with tiny little pj’s on—which, she’d done on purpose.

she purposefully put on a pair of short shorts, ones that just barely showed the bottom of her ass, but, if she were to bend over, it’d be a whole different story.

amelia made sure that when she walked to take a seat onto matts bed, that she’d sway her hips just a teensy bit to tease him, and of course, to flaunt her ass to him, like I said, tease him.

she took a seat and pulled her legs into criss cross applesauce, her shorts exposing her inner thighs, matt found himself staring with absolutely no hesitation, curious on what was further past her shorts. her shirt did not help at all, he only wanted to tear off her slightly too tight shirt, showing her perky tits perfectly.

he cleared his throat, already feeling himself go semi-hard, he laid onto the bed next to her, crossing his legs and sticking his hand into his pocket and fisting his hand, attempting to make his pants a little looser around his cock, hiding his forming boner.

he looked over at her, patting the spot next to him with a warm smile on his face.

“wanna watch something?” he asked, watching as she very confidently crawled over to him and laid down next to him, resting her head on his shoulder with a hum.

“sure! I have a movie in mind—well, movies, its a movie series,” amelia looked up at him, her face a little too close to his face.

“its called after.” she grabbed the tv remote resting in matts hand, over his lap. with grabbing it, she purposefully touched his dick with pressure, immediately matts body had a reaction, a grunt leaving his throat and his dick going fully hard.

“are you okay?” amelia asked, her nose scrunched with confusion, fake confusion, anything to get matt to believe it was an accident.

“y- yeah..” he took in a breath, calming his composure “just turn the movie on.” he closed his eyes momentarily, trying to think of the grossest things on planet earth to subside his boner and the touch that definitely didn’t help.

he opened his eyes again, seeing that amelia had already turned on the movie and was getting comfy in her spot, shifting her body over some and pressing her back into matt’s side, laying her head more comfortably in his shoulder.

amelia knew what this movie consisted of, that’s why she turned it on, it was apart of her plan, her plan being

1. come over in small pjs

2. tease and touch him

3. turn on a sex movie

4. make more teasing touches and fuck him, or, more preferably have him fuck her into oblivion.

and now, all she’d had to do was fuck him, which, wouldn’t be so hard, he’s already rock hard and drinking in the sight of her revealed skin, her revealed skin so close to the places he desired.

not too long later.. a sex scene popped up, and amelia could feel the heat radiating from matt’s body, she could see his previously softening dick go rock hard so easily again so fast, he looked like an inexperienced horny, teenage boy.

matt’s focus hadn’t been on the movie, not once, not even the second she turned it on. all he could think about was the sight of amelia’s thighs, they looked fucking devourable. he wanted her thighs wrapped around his head. all he could think about was her body and how much he wanted to kiss and suck all over it, her body was mesmerizing. all he wanted was it, he wanted to fuck her so badly, his eyes were on the tv, but mind on her body.

when he heard soft moans and grunts from the tv, his focus immediately snapped to it, his eyes darting around it and taking everything in.

amelia chuckled, “oops, didn’t know this was gonna be in here.” she mumbled.

matt shook his head, “yes you did, you fucking whore.” his voice was low, grabbing her waist and flipping them over, he was on top of her now, staring into her eyes with a lustful look in them, the blue completely gone and replaced with black. he dipped his head down, connecting their lips with a slow but passionate kiss full of tongue.

that’s what amelia wished matt had done when she said that, but he didn’t, only, his breathing went erotic and his hand slipped to her thigh, holding the one closest to him and his grip tightening ever so slightly.

amelia, purposelly, whimpered.

and that was the last straw for matt. he moved his hand from her thigh and turned his head to her, cupping her cheek, forcefully turning her head to his and attaching their lips in a needy and desperate kiss.

matt moved to pinning amelia to the bed, his own body ontop of hers, his one hand keeping her hip pinned to the bed with a tight force while his other hand slowly traveled from the ball of her jaw to her throat, holding it and ever so slightly, tightening his hold every few seconds.

he pushed his tongue between her lips, forcefully shoving his tongue into her mouth, exploring every inch of her mouth with a passion burning in his stomach.

he used his knee to spread her legs and situate his hips between her legs, grinding his crotch into hers, earning a high pitched moan from amelia.

amelia wrapped her legs around matts waist, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth before she pulled away, “please fuck me, matt, please” she begged, arching her back off the bed.

matt dipped his head down into amelias neck, pressing wet and sloppy kisses all across it, stopping every few moments to suck a deep mark into the senstive skin.

“hang on baby, be patient f’me” he mumbled against her skin, biting lightly onto one of the marks, definitely leaving a deep purple mark for later.

he rubbed her hips before trailing his hand down to her shorts, slipping his hand into her panties and rubbing circles onto her clit, eliciting a moan from amelia.

“matt-“ amelia moaned, rolling her eyes back as his fingers slid to her entrance, slicking it in her wetness before slowly dipping his finger into her entrance, amelia could feel a smirk forming on his lips from them pressing against her throat.

he slid the rest of his finger inside of her, earning a shriek and a loud moan from her, his free hand covered her mouth, whispering against her throat “quiet amelia, we dont want my brothers hearing you, do we?”

he pumped his finger continuously before adding another finger, hearing a muffled sound from amelias mouth, lifting his head from her neck to look at her, the sight only adding onto his ego, her eyes rolled back, her normally pink cheeks a dark red and her orange hair on its way to becoming messy.

he curled his fingers, hitting her g-spot effortlessly, another loud, muffled moan slid from amelia’s throat.

a knot formed in amelias lower abdomen, tightening with every pump and curl of matts fingers.

“‘m close, matty!” she whined from his hand, arching her back, she clenched around his fingers. pushing her hips downwards in an attempt to god-knows-what.

matts thumb curved up and rubbed circles on her clit, reaching her higher to her climax.

he thrusted his finger out once more, before thrusting back in and biting harshly down onto her throat, causing amelia to cum on his fingers with a loud and thankfully muffled moan.

“mmm, good girl” matt praised, pulling his fingers out from amelia and bringing them up to his lips, licking them clean before going back to amelia’s shorts, pulling them off by the hem, then pulling his own sweatpants and boxers down quickly.

he grabbed amelia’s hips, flipping her over onto her belly, “get on your hands and knees” he mumbled, rubbing her back with one hand while his other was at the base of his cock, jacking himself off to ease the throbbing pain.

amelia obligated, pulling her weak legs to be propped on their knees and her palms down, holding herself up, waiting in anticipation for matt to stuff her full.

matt ran his tip through her folds, collecting her wetness before guiding it to her entrance, sliding in slowly, attempting to ease the small burning sensation amelia was most likely experincing, the earlier stretch of his fingers doing nothing.

once bottomed out, matt groaned, grabbing both her hips to ensure she would stay in place and to stabilize himself.

he pulled almost all the way out, before slamming back in, giving amelia no mercy at all.

he continously slammed his hips in and out of her, creating a rough pace that made him feel good—hes not sure he was exactly focusing on amelia’s pleasure.

he wasnt stupid, he knew why he turned amelia around, hes really only ever seeked sex with y/n, and now that she wasnt the one he was fucking, he felt a pang of guilt in his chest. he didnt want to look in amelia’s eyes and find that they arent y/ns. he’d only want to see y/ns in such a vulnerable moment.

only to feel her in such a vulnerable moment, but he didnt have her so he had to improvise.

thats why he really wasnt sure if he cared if amelia was feeling good, a part of him knew he really only cared if he made y/n feel good.

he shook his head, ridding the thoughts of y/n, hes balls deep in amelia, thinking about his ex-girlfriend is not the time.

he fucked into amelia’s cunt again, the pleasure sub-siding as his thoughts began to overbear it all.

what if amelia was a mistake?

what if amelia thinks after this hookup, they’re together?

what if he regrets breaking up with her for the rest of his life?

what if, when he realizes how much y/n actually was apart of him, its too late to go back?

what if he still loves y/n? he still does, he just hasnt realized it himself yet

what if he’ll never forgive himself for fucking amelia and ditching y/n for a random redhead?

oh my god. he ditched the love of his life for some random ass redhead.

his breathing began to go unsteady, but not because of his thrusting, but because of his overriding thoughts.

it took everything in him to stop the thoughts and keep them low, trying to focus on the main point here. cumming and cumming only, not to think about his ex girlfriend.

why would he even want to think about his girlfriend? she cheated on him and was a needy ass clingy bitch.

it physically pained him to think that last part, y/n wasnt a ‘needy ass clingy bitch’ and he knew it. he knew y/n only wanted his love and attention and she wasnt receiveing it, she had to ask and argue for it.

but no, his dumbass was so entranced by some random girl that he completely dumped his special girl.

no, no, he shouldnt be think this. y/n isnt his special girl, she cheated on him.

she cheated

he had to chant it to himself in his head to actually try and get himself to believe it, but why couldnt he? he trusted amelia’s word did he?, but-

“matt, mmfff fuckk! ‘m gonna cum! ‘m gonna cum!” amelia moaned, bringing matt back to what he was doing.

he closed his eyes momentarily, taking in a few pants before opening his eyes again and bringing himself back to the main point of this interaction.

he reached his hand around amelia’s hip to rub circles on her clit, urging her to her climax.

“cmon, pretty girl, ya gonna cum all over my cock?” he taunted, pulling out, before pushing in and staying inside for a moment, before pulling abrubtly back out.

matts hand moved from her clit, sliding his hand under her shirt to her nipple, pinching at it and stimulating it, with a loud moan, amelia came, her climax taking a huge toll on her, her eyesight going blurry and her elbows buckling on her.

matt grunted, feeling his own climax approaching, he pulled out, pumping himself a few times before shooting his load onto her lower back. subtly making it seem like thats where he wanted it to be in the moment, but truthfully, he didnt want to cum in her at all. that was meant for y/n, not amelia. he didnt want his cum, not inside his special girl.

amelia collasped onto the bed, resting her weak sore elbows and knees, taking in huge breaths and exhaling huge breaths, attempting to recover from the moment.

matt walked to his bathroom, grabbing a wet, warm washcloth and cleaning himself off before rinsing the cloth off again.

he pulled his boxers and pants up again. his eyes looked up into the mirror, where his reflection stared back at him, a disappointed look in his own eyes—towards himself.

he closed his eyes, walking out of the bathroom with the cloth in hand. opening his eyes again he crouched infront of amelia, cleaning her back before grabbing her waist he gently flipped her over onto her back and spread her legs, cleaning her up, his hands gently pulled her panties and shorts back up, then threw the dirty cloth in his laundry basket.

he laid in bed next to the already sleeping amelia, he stared up at the ceiling, folding his hands over his chest while he thought,

thought about how disappointing he was with himself and how he didnt even enjoy himself during his sex with amelia, he felt bad but he felt worse for himself. realizing that amelia would never be y/n, she’d never be similar to y/n.

why would he break up with her? did he really trust amelia’s word or did he just want an excuse to not want y/n anymore.

why did he do that?

amelia isnt y/n, she never was. y/n is his special girl, only y/n.

2940 words

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#sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo angst #matthew bernard sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine

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satorubi · 2 years

Text

• — ♱ synopsis — toji teaches you to abide by his rules.

• — ♱ content warning - pwp, minors dni! meandom! toji but he softens up later on, f! reader, sub! reader, masturbation, fingering, doggystyle, missionary, overstimulation, breeding, squirting, daddy kink, use of pet names such as ꒰ slut, sweetheart, angel ꒱ toji has a chest tat i don’t make the rules. toji also has somewhat of a humiliation kink???

• — ♱ notes - i had to write about ceo toji again bc he’s been clouding my brain. this one is a long one, i loved this idea :p thank u for reading, ily, & reblogs and interactions are always appreciated <33

coming home to you was toji’s favorite part of the day.

after a excruciatingly long week, he could finally return home to his pretty wife; who’s just as eager to see him too— sending flirty texts and selfies while he’s at work typing up documents. toji may not have shown it often, but when he was away from you, he felt empty. it was nothing more than a blessing and a privilege to arrive home smothered with hugs and kisses — everything he’d missed while at the office. it was a feeling he’d never get tired of, a sight he’d never want to be shielded from.

but tonight, he couldn’t exactly say he was too pleased when he got home.

the thunder outside roared loudly as toji stepped foot into your shared humble abode, expecting to be greeted by you within seconds. but to his surprise, you seemed to have had other plans.

the usual aroma of your perfume was absent from toji’s vicinity— you were nowhere to be found. his gruff voice echoed through the home, calling out for you as he paced around the house. kitchen? empty. living room? empty? backyard? empty. not a single sight of the presence he craved most. he assumed maybe you’d gone out for groceries or maybe with a friend for dinner— but that theory was debunked the moment he heard a faint buzzing sound coming from behind your bedroom door.

heavy footsteps stomped toward the bedroom, with a hand on the doorknob and a determined look on his face, his movements were put at a halt. a familiar symphony played behind the barricade and toji’s brain began putting the pieces together.

without another thought, his hand twisted at the doorknob, creaking it open slowly as he peeked a head into the room.

he’d finally found his wife— and god, was it a beautiful sight.

you laid flat; back against the mattress with your legs spread as far as they could be— your laced panties pulled to the side. your hands held a tiny pink toy in the shape of a rose, that same hand being between your thighs as your mouth produced strangled moans and whimpers. the man’s fist bawled beside him— angry.

he hated when you did this; masturbating. it was a reoccurring debate in your relationship, toji claiming that it was ridiculous to do so when you had a husband willing to fuck you whenever you wanted. you’d always laugh him off, finding it humorous that the simple task damaged his little ego— but you knew the rules and you knew how strictly toji felt about them — so why would you break them?

he found it captivating how you hadn’t noticed his presence. you were so clouded by bliss that you didn’t realize his tall figure now standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. it wasn’t until the startling sound of his throat clearing caught your attention. you averted your eyes to your husband— your heart beating from the build up of your orgasm and the scare of toji’s unannounced appearance.

“what're you stopping for? you like actin’ up when i’m not around, so do it now” he hissed, darkened eyes fixed on you and the small mess between your legs. you only sat there; not a single movement made. you were startled, yet still aroused.

truthfully, you thought you had a good thirty more minutes before his arrival, your impatience let your hormones get the best of you. you pout, still not saying a single word. he was overreacting. it wasn’t like you’d fucked yourself to a lousy video online; you still had your hubby in mind— you always did.

“not talkin’ to me now either? i see you’re just breakin’ all the rules tonight aren’t ya’?”

you shake your head in a ‘no’ gesture, only egging him on more from the ongoing stillness he called the silent treatment. it seemed like you blinked once and toji was removing his fastened button-up shirt, the fabric uncovering the abstract ink that spread across his chest. he then moved to his belt, slowly undoing the leather before moving to his slacks and underwear until nothing but his cock sprung free.

it was so pretty. he was girthy with some length on him; from the head to his shaft ran blue-ish veins that stuck out more when it thumped from pressure, as well as a sticky fat tip that leaked of precum that you loved licking clean.

“get your ass over here, now.”

you powered off your forbidden toy, placing it on the side of the nightstand before inching toward your straight-faced husband. he took his cock in his hand and slapped it against his tummy; his way of of telling you to get on your knees. before you could bring yourself to begin, you lifted your head to look him in the eyes, your pretty lashes flickering up at him in a pleading manner.

“t-toji i’m sorry, baby. i shouldn’t have—“

“shut the fuck up,” he interjects, breathing heavily through his nostrils, “and no hands. take it all.”

his demands weren’t exactly impossible to meet; your pouted lips part to wrap around his leaking cock, taste buds recognizing his salty substance in an instant. you began with soft kitten licks to his tip, running your tongue over the slit as a warmup. any other time, this would’ve been the usual, but as of tonight, toji wasn’t putting up with your games.

his rough hand cupped under your chin as he held your jaw open, “do it right or it’s gonna’ be worse for you. i’m not fuckin’ around, y/n. you’ve pissed me off enough.”

“i’m sorry,” you whine, placing a hand on his thigh only for him to shun it away.

“don’t apologize, get to work.”

and you did— for the second time, you took him into your mouth, the warm sensation of your throat causing toji to groan. with his hand still on your jaw, he guided your head back and forth; the sounds of your gagging making him tense up in your mouth. spit began to form in both corners of your mouth as you continued you suck and choke on his hard on.

“yeah, swallow all that shit,” he encouraged, your heart fluttering at the given praise. you tried your best to engulf him in, but due to his size your throat struggled to take him, but that didn’t stop your determination. you gagged around him, your hands resting on your thighs for balance as he vigorously fucked your face; his hands now cradling the back of your head as you tried to take more of him in.

toji didn’t fail to notice your effort. he knew he was big and that’s what made it all the more fun; seeing his pretty little wife struggle to take what’s hers. but if he had to admit it, you really were trying your best— your eyes looking up at him with hope, continuing to search for some sort of approval as your nose got closer to meeting his pelvis. you were almost there and he was so proud of you, but he couldn’t show that of course— not when he was supposed to be teaching you a lesson.

he continued to fuck your face, observing as spit and precum convered you. in guilt, he decided to give you a breather, pulling away with a string of saliva hanging from his cock. you looked so beautiful— drool pooling from your now swollen lips that ached for a kiss.

“on the bed,” was all he muttered to get you to rise from your knees. you positioned yourself on the mattress, allowing your legs to spread open so he could have a clear sight of your leaking cunt. your pussy was so pretty— and not to compare, but he’s claimed it to be the prettiest he’s ever seen; two soaking lips that held your sensitive bud between them— and don’t even him him started on the taste.

“what were you doin’ when i got home, sweetheart?” he asks, already knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it come from your sweet mouth instead.

“toji— please.”

“nah, tell me. what were you doin’?”

you sent him a shameful glance, embarrassed but turned on all at once. your husband had a habit of doing that during sex— watching you become flustered from just simple dirty talk; it was almost like he got off from humiliating you.

“t-touching myself,” you finally state.

“and what’d i say about that?”

your chest heaves as he reaches a hand down to touch at your lower half. he traced over the damp patch in your underwear; the exact spot being the delicate beauty of your clit.

“that if i w-wanted you..all i had to do was ask,” you stumble over your words as the man rubbed at your spot, the slow circles around the sensitive area causing you to whine.

“ah, exactly. so, you wanna’ tell me why i walked in on you being a fuckin’ slut?” he grumbles, in a calm, yet, harsh way.

“toji— i’m sorry, please, baby—“ a small pat to your cunt interrupts your jumbled sentence, toji being unpleased with your answer. you could feel his cold fingers begin to push over the fabric that shielded you.

“answer me.”

“because— fuck! i missed you. you’ve been so busy at work. i don’t know toji— i was thinking of you, only you,” you plead, eyes shutting from the small amount of pleasure. he slowly stuck his middle and ring finger into you, the cold metal of his wedding ring grazing against your walls. you let out a small sigh, rolling your eyes to the back of your head as his fingertips pushed against that sweet spot.

“and that gives you the right to be a greedy brat?” he presses. you could barely give him a clear response, the pleasure was overwhelming and the cool temperature of the room didn’t make it any better; nipples hardened and goosebumps covering your skin.

“n-no! i’m sorry, please fuck me, toji!”

he laughs, lips churning to a smile that uncovered his pearly whites, “but weren’t you just fuckin’ that silly little toy? now you want some dick— after i told you over and over again i’d be happy to make this pretty pussy cum any time of day?”

“toji- i wan’ it. i won’t ever do it again.”

toji had a love/hate for punishments. a part of him wanted to fuck you dumb as a lesson, but the other half of him wanted hold you close with his head buried into your neck, making you cream all over his cock as he as he apologizes for not tending to your needs sooner— but you had to learn one way or another.

toji pulled his fingers from your pussy, a cry escaping your lips as you yearned for his contact. his palms grabbed at your feet, pulling you toward the edge of the bed, “flip over and arch your back.”

you wasted no time doing so, making your stomach touch the cool sheets as your ass was held high in the air. toji’s cock twitched at the sight because, well…damn. he didn’t know whether it was the angle or the position, but your ass somehow looked bigger than it was when he last fucked you this way. he couldn’t believe he’d been missing out on this— your sweet, fucking pussy that just craved him and only him.

toji fully removed your panties, getting rid of the hassle of pulling them to the side. looking down, he gathered up a wad of saliva in his mouth, spitting on both his dick and your already wet cunt— lubricating you both.

“t-toji please put it in— i need it.”

“you really rushin’ me like this after how you’ve behaved? after how you’ve disrespected me,” he asks, rubbing his tip against your folds; wetness coating him.

reaching your arms back, your manicured hands spread your cheeks apart, letting him see your pretty pussy open and ready for him, “fuck me. i’ve been bad, but i-i can take it, i promise,” you hiccup, looking back at him with sweet doe eyes that held nothing but lust. toji had never seen you this way— so needy. so willing to take him without another thought in that mind of yours.

usually, you ran from dick, but tonight you needed him— bad.

you’d spent too much time away from one another. with toji working almost every day, it’s hard to get a moment to have such intimacy. he took it as disrespectful for you to please yourself, but who else would do it if he wasn’t here?

“stay like this. if you run, i’ll walk away and leave your ass here, understand?” his comment came out as a low groan due to the feeling of him finally sliding into your warmth. titling his head to the side, he watched as you nodded, sucking him in so effortlessly with your tightness. he placed his hands on top of yours that still rested on your ass; his way of holding you down while still keeping you so open.

“ooo— fuck yes, toji!”

your moan was loud as his pace was rough, but not too fast— still wanting you to adjust to his size. toji was mesmerized. between watching himself split you open to the way your ass jiggled with every thrust, he didn’t know what to focus on. you were just so pretty beneath him like this.

“pussy’s so tight. she missed me, huh? missed me stretching her out every night?” he mumbles, but it’s loud enough for you to hear, making you clench around him. toji released your hands and let them fall to your side as he gripped at your hips; his thrusts becoming more prominent with every cry, every whimper, and every moan you let fly from your lips.

“yes, yes, yes— missed you. missed you s-so much, baby,” you whine, your voice battling to compete with the sounds of rain outside the window and a queefing, sopping cunt.

“ha, look at that, she’s talkin’ to me too, y/n.”

although you couldn’t see him, you knew there was a smirk expanding across his face. he was fucking you so good. you could barely ponder a single thought in your pretty little head. your mouth was hung open with your tits pressed against the mattress as he drilled into you like never before— it was all so much at once.

“take it, take it all. feel me fuckin’ you? it’s better than a toy ain’t it? yeah, i know it is,” he grunts. you could feel your orgasm approaching, the curve of his length kissing your g-spot over and over again. just when you were about to release, toji pulled out, standing on the back of his heels while slapping his tip on your cheek— an aggravated moan leaving you.

“toj— what the fuck? w-why would you—“ your complaints were cut off by a loud slap! sound. the stinging gesture to your ass making you jump.

“watch your mouth, y/n. fuck me back and stop bein’ lazy.” he utters, watching as you adjust your arch.

with your hands stretched in front of you, your fingers tightly hold the sheets as you begin to move up and down his dick, a creamy white liquid staining him. toji stumbled back a bit at how hard you were trying, your ass pushing against him damn near making him cum at just a few movements.

“just like that, sweetheart. there you fuckin’ go.”

“toji— daddy, im gonna’ cum!” you cry, your actions becoming faster when you realize toji is following your pace, fucking himself into you while grabbing the plush of your sides. he could feel you pulling him in as you reached for your second climax.

“hold it.”

“but— toji, please i’m—“ you plea, reaching back to grab at his arm for support only for him to slap it away and tell you to take it. you squeezed and clamped around him like you were holding on for dear life; and he loved it. the deep strokes he was giving you were degrading and you were eating them all up.

“gonna’ cum on this dick? hm? gonna’ wet my shit up?” he expresses, watching the motion of your ass crash back on him.

so fucking pretty.

“y-yes! i’m gonna’ cum. aah— baby, i’m- oh my—fuck!”

once you finally came down, small sighs and whimpers could be heard coming from you. toji slowly slid out of you, your pussy making an airy, gape noise as you set him loose.

“can you give me another one?” he whispers against your ear, and you nod— letting him flip you onto your back. toji could now see your face; it’s in an exhausted state, eyes batting as you struggle to keep them open to return his gaze. you looked so pretty. honest truth, he didn’t think he’d last very long doing this position tonight.

“yes, i can give y-you one more. please, i wanna’ make you cum, toji.”

for the first time tonight, toji placed a chaste kiss on your lips. you didn’t exactly know what changed. he went from fucking you with no remorse as a punishment to being gentle and attentive to your quivering body.

“spread your legs angel.”

you obeyed, toji assisting you by propping your legs onto his shoulders. this way, he could hit it deeper, harder— if you asked. he tapped his cock onto your clit a few times, fomenting your already quivering thighs.

“look at me when i put it in,” he demands. your eyes quickly opened to peer up at your husband— you could now see the man you’ve missed so much; forehead sticky, a thin silver chain around his neck that you liked to hold between your teeth as he fucked you, and a set of tattoos that covered most of his chest— astonishing.

the feeling of toji’s dick sliding into you was something you’d always crave. his breaths were shaky and his grunts were loud.

“shit, pussy’s so fuckin’ wet just for me, huh? all for me.”

“daddy—fuck, you feel so good.”

he lets out a breathy laugh, “yeah? you like when i fuck you like this?” he inquires, thrusts becoming more fleeting as time went on. you held on tightly to his forearms that were planted beside you, clawing at the veins that ran up them.

“harder, toji.”

thankfully, he was one of the good ones who knew the dissimilarity between faster and harder; his dick ramming into you like a hammer on nails. and you took it so well, with your tits bouncing and your head thrown back, sucking in harsh breaths of air while crying out his name like a prayer.

“keep screamin’,” he grunts, lowering his body down to your neck, biting a licking at the skin in an attempt to leave a mark, “let em’ know who’s pussy this is.”

“it’s yours, toji. it’s only yours— i-i love you, please cum in me.”

toji’s hands moved from the side of you to your tear stained cheeks to caress them, holding your face in his hands as he rocked into you making your body jolt.

“i love you too, beautiful. you’re gonna’ make me cum n’ breed that pussy, you want that? hm?” he asks, more so as consent than opposed to dirty talk. you rapidly nod your head, wrapping your hands around his wrists while staring deeply into his drowsy eyes.

you lifted your head a little to plant kisses onto his scarred lip, noses touching and grazing against one another as your tongues battled for control. it was messy, it was steamy, and most importantly, it was love.

“ssss’ fuck— i’m cummin’ baby. aah, shit.”

he hissed his last few moans while still fucking you senseless, your third orgasm coming over you in a wave of pleasure; juices you hadn’t seen in a while spurting all over his stomach. although he’d already came, he continued to fuck into you until you were breathless and weak under his touch, shaking from the overwhelming force.

he soon pulled out of you completely, removing your legs from his shoulders and laying his enormous body on top of your smaller one. your foreheads were touching and you were all out of breath, basking in one another’s devotion. the two of you stayed that way for a while, toji hugging and kissing at the sweaty skin of your chest and stomach.

“toji,” you say barely above a whisper.

“are you alright, angel? did i hurt you?”

you smile at his concern, his bushy eyebrows furrowing, “no, i’m okay. you’re just the only man i know that would ever be jealous of an inanimate object,” you laugh.

“y’know, i can’t really be jealous. i haven’t exactly been as present as you’ve liked me to be and i apologize for that.”

you place a kiss on his lips while grinning at his sincerity. you knew he didn’t mean any harm, and after all, he was working to please and give you the life you deserved.

“if you really want me to stop using the toy i’ll get rid of it,” you suggest, only to have him shut you up with a smack on your thigh.

“nah, maybe i can use it on you sometime. have a competition to see who can make you cum first,” he jokes, earning a small giggle from you.

“you’re so annoying.”

“only for you, my love. only for you.”

#saaturnowrites #toji x y/n #toji x black y/n #toji x black reader #toji x reader #jjk #toji smut #jjk smut #toji fushiguro

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edelgarfield · 8 days

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the soft tender way essek talks abt caleb like.

campaign 2 episode 90

when jester asks him about himself he takes a pause, seems to contemplate what to say, before shaking his head and answering:

There's a waver to his voice before he seems to harden and his facial expressions are very dismissive and a bit sarcastic.

The episode ends shortly after this, and at the start of the next one is when Essek comes over for dinner. So IMO this moment Essek is debating whether to open up to M9, initially brushes them off, then thinks about it & changes his mind.

episode 91 we have this exchange:

he doesn't elaborate. he's completely flat & unemotional. he changes the subject by asking to sit as soon as he can.

yasha asks abt him and he does the same thing

noteably there's a long pause after ashley's question, at which point sam & travis chime in where essek's eyes are literally darting around and he's clearly uncomfortable, and that's when caduceus interrupts.

deep breath, nervous chuckle, crosses his arms and looks down before answering

jester asks why he changed his mind

he's making eye contact during this part, casual, & expressing mild frustration but still calm

there's a pause between this line & the next where he looks down and does this:

at this part he doesn't make eye contact until halfway through and only maintains it for a few seconds as a time

deep breath, does this again:

then looks up and says as quickly as possible:

head bowed, speaks into his lap

another pause, a look of clear confusion on his face before shaking his head

after caleb gives him a dunamancy potion in repayment for his help:

same hands folded head bowed posture as before

the whole conversation, he DOES NOT offer up information without being asked directly, usually multiple times. he deflects by talking abt his position, and whenever he decides to be vulnerable or reference the actual reasons for his visit (his loneliness & feelings of kinship) he looks away & braces himself. imo any time he admits to his loneliness his posture reads "ashamed." particularly when jester asks if he lives alone; i don't see a reason for him to look down & hunch his shoulders if he didn't feel like he was admitting to some personal failure (either bc he lives alone, or bc it shouldn't bother him as much as it does). there's also, of course, his newfound guilt at having betrayed m9 and being unable to walk it back.

compare that with cr3; while in the smut shop he deflects BH's attempts to learn about him, but that night he not only answers their questions without resistance but actively offers up more information.

he tells them abt his connections to ludinus, he tells them he's partially responsible for the current state of the world despite having every reason not to, he tells them abt his friends & his partner. he admits to his past faults openly & with little hesitation. he breaks eye contact briefly when talking abt ludinus etc. but never for long, and never in the same way, shoulders hunched, head down, hiding behind his hands.

the only time he seems to experience anything resembling shame or embarrassment is when he gets flustered admitting to wanting to message his partner before he sleeps.

i didn't mean to go through every single part of cr2ep91 where m9 ask about essek's personal life, but i did bc it was fascinating. when essek spoke to m9, he very much does not want to talk abt himself. the few things he does share say that he's very solitary & the few relationships he mentions are not close. any time he feels pressed to admit his true feelings, he feels ashamed and struggles to do so.

i imagine to essek in cr2ep91, he couldn't even imagine having a partner that he'd want to speak abt the way he speaks abt caleb. the idea of a version of him who has a life he wants to talk abt and share is absurd. but in cr3, for all his faults & mistakes he's made, he does, he wants to talk abt his partner & friends & the things he's learned. he has a life he wants to share bc it brings him joy.

#critical role #essek thelyss #shadowgast

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normspellsman · 1 year

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I Believe You

pairing: lo’ak x older sister!reader

genre: angstish, fluff, & comfort (from reader to lo’ak)

word count: 1.7k+

warning(s): sad!lo’ak, mentions of jake scolding + punishing lo’ak, lo’ak crying, reader being the best big sis fr, lo’ak is a total big sister boy, cursing, & sibling bonding

request details: here!

taglist: @aonungsmate @dearstell @goodiesinthecloset21 @optimisticblazetrash @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @minkyungseokie @liyahsocorro @universal-s1ut @amortencjja @arminsgfloll @blushhpeachh @sweetirilly @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic @bambisposts-blogs (requested the plot! <3)

word bank: toruk makto — rider of last shadow, tawtute — human; sky person, & tulkun — whale like creature residing in awa’atlu

note: was originally titled “my baby bro” but then i came up with this plot & trashed my original idea bc i felt like i could write this better & actually have motivation to write this :).

Lo’ak is known for getting in trouble. Either his loud mouth or actions, mostly both, got him into scuffles with his parents. This time was no different.

He had bonded with Payakan, a tulkun who was outcasted for something that any other being would do when forced to see their Mother be killed in front of them. In Lo’ak’s eyes, Payakan’s actions were driven by his sadness and were justifiable to a point. He knew how much the creature regretted the lives lost that day. If the same thing were to happen to him, Lo’ak would react the same way.

He felt understood by Payakan. They both had a significant physical difference from the rest of their species, making them feel isolated and alone in the large planet of Pandora. Made them feel judged and ridiculed for being different from the rest.

Not even thirty minutes prior, Lo’ak got chewed out by his Father, scolding him for talking back to the Olo’eyktan and doing something he, yet again, shouldn’t be doing. His Father never failed to make him feel like the black sheep of the family even though they are more alike than he’d hoped. It sucked. It really did. He just wanted people to see him. See all of him, even the messed up and alien parts of him.

One person only came to mind when he thought about people seeing and accepting him for who he is. You.

You were the eldest daughter of the Sully family. The token child. The perfect image of what a Na’vi should look like. The one that carried the burden of being Tsahìk or Olo’eykte one day. The one who, despite all the push back, saw Lo’ak for who he is.

You absolutely adored Lo’ak when you were younger, only being around the age of four when he was born. You refused to let your parents pry him away from your tiny arms when you held him way longer than you should’ve. You loved holding him and talking to him in the baby voice your Father always did to you and your other siblings, gently running a small finger down the flat bridge of his nose. You loved singing him to sleep or rocking him whenever he began to fuss, dropping everything to come and comfort your baby brother. And even though he is all grown up and is ‘too cool’ for your affections, you still give it to him anyway.

Not like the teen boy would ever admit it, but he loves whenever you’d rub his back when he didn’t feel good, rebraid his hair when it outgrew the current braids, hug him a little too long after a scouting mission, and especially when you’d pat the empty side of your mat for him to lay down on, comforting him with your warm embrace as he dozed off into a peaceful slumber. When he was younger, he was much more greedy with your attention and affections, pouting to you whenever you gave Neteyam or Kiri an extra kiss goodnight or fussing when you didn’t say your usual goodbye before heading off to train for the day. Lo’ak was practically attached to your hip throughout his adolescence years, clinging to your leg wherever you went. There was always a different connection you and Lo’ak had compared to your other siblings. It was something special and was hard to explain. You just understood one another, no matter how either of you looked or what you went through.

“What’s wrong, baby bro?” Your voice asked, concern laced in your voice.

Of course you knew what was wrong. You practically heard the whole thing from the other side of the island. It didn’t take long for Tuk to inform you of what happened when you arrived home either, sadness written on her face as she told you the story and how they haven’t seen Lo’ak since then.

You found him minutes after your interaction with Tuktirey. He was sitting on the beach, staring off into the horizon as the waves lazily lapped at his feet, legs brought up to his chest as his chin rested on his scarred knees.

“Nothing,” Lo’ak mumbled, eyes stuck on the eclipsing sun. He refused to look weak in front of others, not wanting to ruin his image as Toruk Makto’s second son, especially if it was someone he looked up to.

You hummed in response, not believing his statement. Lo’ak was unbelievably stubborn, something he got from your Mother. It was a good trait to have at times, but it made it harder to break down the boys walls when they needed breaking. Too stubborn for his own good, you thought, settling yourself next to your brother.

“Sure, and the sky is green,” you replied, smirking at your stupid joke. But Lo’ak only rolled his eyes and huffed your way, bringing his knees closer to his chest.

You always tried to crack a joke or two to make him feel better. It worked at times, usually when he was younger. You hadn’t tried this method in a while, too caught up with running away from your home clan and trying to fit into the Metkayina’s way of life. You hadn’t been able to comfort Lo’ak the past times he got scolded by your Father. Something that you felt sorry for and regretted. You were the eldest Sully child. You felt the need to comfort all of your siblings whenever they needed it. You felt awful for not being there for your youngest brother when he desperately needed it.

“I think what you did back there was stupid,” you started, your words causing Lo’ak’s ears to pin themselves to the sides of his head, “Talking back to the Olo’eyktan was really stupid. Especially in front of the Tsahìk. I mean, she scares the absolute shit out of me.”.

Your words seemed to have an effect on Lo’ak as you heard a small sniffle come from him, signaling that he was going to cry or already was. Your heart dropped at that fact, urging yourself to finish your thoughts.

“But, I think it was also brave,” you add on, turning your head to face Lo’ak, watching his reactions, “I don’t think I could ever do what you did. I’d probably shit my pants before speaking to Tonowari like that. You truly have bigger balls than me, little brother. I also think that it was sick that you bonded with a tulkun. I mean, that’s gotta be like, a record or something! First Omatikaya to ever bond with a tulkun.”.

And before Lo’ak could even utter a word, you wrapped up your thoughts with a final, “Has a nice ring to it: Lo’ak, the Tulkun Rider.”.

Fat tears run down the expanse of Lo’ak’s cheeks, rolling down the skin and onto his neck and chest. He felt so frustrated with his parents and how no one was listening to him about Payakan. How no one cared about what he saw or what he felt when he bonded with the creature. He saw what he saw and felt what he felt. He knew out of any of them the truth about what happened and how much regret Payakan carried around. It wasn’t fair. None of it was.

You gently placed a hand onto your brothers shaking shoulder, bringing him in closer towards your body so he could lean into you. Your four-fingered hand came to grasp his five-fingered hand, thumb rubbing the back of his hand in comfort.

“I’m really sorry that I wasn’t there for you before to comfort you. I should’ve been there for you when you needed me,” you whisper, the hand on his shoulder moving to his head to play with his grown out braids. I’ll have to convince him to let me rebraid them, you thought to yourself, knowing that it won’t take much for him to agree to your request.

“I’m sorry that Dad yelled at you and made you feel the way that you feel. He’s always so harsh on you. It’s not fair,” you added, soothing down his hair as his cries quieted down and softened. “He treats us like soldiers instead of children. He seems to be stuck in his tawtute ways recently,” you continued, shaking your head at the realization.

“For what it’s worth, Lo’ak. I believe you,” you said, causing him to pull away from your figure and to stare up at you in shock.

“You do?” He asked, ears perking back up in interest.

You merely nod, smiling down at your brother, “You’ll have to take me to meet Payakan one day, baby bro.”.

Lo’ak brightly grinned at your words, jumping up to hug you. “You’ll love him, sis! I’ve already told him all about you,” he commented, excitement evident in his voice.

“All good things I hope,” you laugh out, embracing Lo’ak.

Lo’ak only hummed and nodded in response, suddenly tired from all of the crying he did. He reached up a fist to rub his eye, ears flickering back as he did so. You knew he was tired. You could see it all over his face.

“Turn around,” you whispered, gesturing for your brother to turn his body around so his back would be facing you. He obeyed your order, sitting crossed legged as his tail wrapped around his waist and slightly curled at the end, anticipating your next move.

Once you put your fingers in his hair and began to slowly unbraid each braid one by one, a smile creeped onto Lo’ak’s face as he relaxed against your swift and gentle fingers. He missed the times where you would willingly rebraid his hair for him and put beads in his hair that matched the ones in yours. It was nice to have you do something that comforted him when he was child again. It was nice to have you comfort him. It was nice to have you as an older sister.

As time passed and the sky got darker, Neytiri had begun to look for her two missing children, stumbling upon them on the shoreline seated next to each other as they whispered and giggled amongst one another. The Mother of five smiled at the sight before her, heart swelling at the interaction. She knew of the kind of connection you shared, knowing that it ran deep and beyond her understanding as a Mother. She knew that no matter what, you’ll always have each other. Yeah, she thought, he’ll be just fine.

#avatar #atwow imagines #avatar imagine #avatar: the way of water #atwow x reader #avatar x reader #atwow #atwow x you #angst #lo’ak sully x reader #lo’ak imagine #lo’ak x sister!reader #lo’ak sully x you #lo’ak x y/n #lo’ak x reader #lo’ak fluff #lo’ak angst #lo’ak x you #lo’ak sully

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weirdfishy · 10 months

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gotta urgent need for some not-quite-yet punkflower where hobie is chillin in some rubble post-(successful) battle all knackered out n miles is visiting (idk bc he just told his parents abt spiderman n it went well so he's bursting at the seems with love at being accepted n all yea? he's gotta tell someone, and why not him? why not hobie? it's no one else but hobie he's gotta tell, if he's being honest with himself [denile is not a river in his egypt, ok pav?] so yeah, he finds himself on 138) n catches the tail end of the battle, tracks down where hobie decided to make a couch outta concrete and lands in front of him, buzzing with cheezy lovey dovey feelins of elation, top o' the fucken world, and asks on abt hobie, rambling until hobie just lifts a hand, a silent ask for help up, (always asking for connection always makin sure they're actually there) n miles, have i mentioned he's happy? he's straight up a sap, so he takes that hand.

he takes that hand gently, bending at the waist a bit, dramatically sweeping back his other arm, bowing, for hell's sake, n plants a kiss on the back of hobie's hand, nice n proper, with a cheeky wink to boot (he'd finally fixed the eye mechanisms last week, thanks to penny), before pulling up new london's own spiderman chest to chest with a bright laugh that puts a different kind of stars in hobie's eyes, half dancing half belting out a song in spanish he doesn't quite understand but knows all the words to (it's some continental dialect, nothing his mami speaks, but would filter out the headphones of that kid in his building he walked w in middle school everyday)

before the sirens start getting closer n hobie can feel the warmth of miles-- the warmth of his smile, his hair that's still sparking from transdimensional travel, his arms, chest, laughter, everything, n all at once it pulls every affectionate n pining bit of hobie to the surface, if he weren't wearing his mask his blush would be so impossibly visible it's straight mad how much hobie loves n adores miles, how much seeing miles be happy lights hobie's whole fucking world

and oh, hobie's never seen a god he didn't punch, never believed in any one he couldn't, but right now, with his fingers entwined with miles', aches leaving his bones like he's never felt his left shoulder twinge the second it drops below 21 just because miles just yelled fuck off to the approaching pigs, he could fall to his knees n swear pious fealty to milesmilesmiles.

but hobie is cool (never has a label stuck to him like the one miles has given him), and his real, livin n breathing god is starting to ramble, so hobie webs them upupup, heat along his back as god wraps arms around him, breath on his neck as home weaves tales into the leather wrapping it.

then miles hears hobie's stomach growl, so he starts pulling them away from the path of what he knows is towards hobie's flat, and towards what he swears is the only good puerto rican food in the whole of hobie's haunt, his excitement steamrolling over his usual stuttering spanish, exchanging shouts n jeers with everyone behind the counter

bc everyone knows him, like miles has lived here, earth-138, new london, his whole life, like hobie brown being dragged into the shop every other week by miles morales to get the same two plates (n an extra something for miles to gush over n hobie to taste) is how the rest of this life will go, like hobie n miles are together, in a way that the unsubtle looks the owner's kid at the register is aiming at miles' left hand are correct, but don't involve stuffy socially religious systems like marriage

but they're not, as much as hobie would love to kiss miles, gaze into his eyes for ages, hear his laughter, his off-key singing, his scritch-scritch of something on paper everyday-- bc he can't go abt this like he does everyone else, can't do it with half a foot out the door n a shrug as agreed; it's gotta be both feet on the floor, n it's gotta be for the rest of this life, so he'll take what he can get, and he'll take the distance n devotion, take the faith n the heartache. take what he can get from his god, glad to be touched by his god, glad to be loved by his god, across universes n the fall from his bed to the futon on the floor where miles decides to lay his head for choice holy nights

(hobie doesn't know miles is putting himself at the base of his god's shrine, hoping for his deity to fall into his arms, spikes n all, (ready, so ready to tear apart dimensions again for hobie, to bleed and cry n go to war for hobie) fingers splaying on the side of the mattress warmwarmwarm after hobie starts snoring, before they slip down softly, a prayer imparting from the pads, memorizing the patterns of his god's breath, the smell of the room, the borrowed shirt he wears, the sounds of a second city he calls home, thrumming full with a bass note plucked from an electric guitar, usually shaky hands sure n still picking out a different shape to hobie's eyebrow piercing, deftly screwing a star onto the bar. miles brings offerings to his god in pins n patches on clothing, stickers n torn out sketches decorating a shrine)

so they'll song n dance in new york, in new london; learning each other's cities, earths, haunts, people, arts, each other, like new scars for the collection- permanent and signs of living, odes to loving and protecting.

chest to chest, fingers entwined, warmth in the skies above cities, right on the edge of it all until they fall together, eyes wide open, gods broken down into blood and teeth and lovelovelove

not-quite-yet 2 - 3

. my ko-fi 💛

ao3 link

#flowerpunk #punkflower #i'm havging some major fucking brainrot apparently #look i've been listening to lets fall in love for tonight all day while reading flowerpunk fics #spiderverse #fishy write the fucking fic already challenge #hobie x miles #miles x hobie #yeah no yeah i'm goin fuckin bonkers over them apparently #the fic mutualism altered my brain chemistry for fucking real #fishy's bubbles #this got so fucking long my brother watched two episodes of the bear while i lost my shit over them #all i was gonna come on tumblr for was to say that i will probably get a lip ring bc i've always wanted to but instead i wrote this #not-quite-yet #nqy 1

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ganondoodle · 2 months

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you know, i had a totk thought (uh oh)

soemthign thats really bothering me about the whole "actually, ganondorf didnt like the guy appearing out of nowhere marrying a hylian and just saying yep das our kingdom now and we can mine it barren under your nose and also i got laserbeam pebbles that i totally wont ever use on anyone come join me or die just bc of all of that but mainly bc the guy brought some weird tech with him that he dont like" - thing is that ......... we see almost not a single tech thing in the past (and for that matter see nothing of the oh so perfect and peaceful paradise hyrule was before big evil desert man didnt want to join our paradise- like what is the point about making the whole point of the game be -we need to restore hyrule to this paradise it once was- when you dont even see it or get to care about anything of it)

it might sound like a weird hangup but no really, the most we see is like two servant constructs, thats it, when they 'prepare for war' im pretty sure all you see is some lightly dressed ( ... is it just me or does their whole get up look alot like native american/other indingenous people too ... i still dont know how to feel about that- kinda adjacent to some of the sonau armor, the battery one i think??, also having that look...) hylians with spears, where the heck is all that tech?? is it implied to be all down in the mines hollowing out the underground (for no real reason either bc .... theres only two sonau left and no one else seems to want use nor need the tech otherwise there should have been more traces or soemthing left of it -unless it all just magically appeared out of nowhere in mostly prime condition while all shiekah tech jsut vaporized for bs non reasons just for it to be in tha game but oh dont you see its always been there lmao- so whats the point really????)

or up in the sky as most battle constructs are and they cant get them down in time bc *gestures vaguely*

or is it intentionally kept out of view bc idk seeing an army of robots on raurus side he can send out on a whim might not make him look as oh so good and perfect as they want him to look when he already got laserbeam pebbles (most of which hes been hoarding until ONE falls into hands not under his control) ?? like it just ... feels weird?? so many battle constructs that can even be a threat to link are jsut fully functioning strolling around in the present still, why wouldnt you want to use any of them to battle gan and if they DID why wouldnt you show that (no the 3 second unicorn cutscene doesnt count bc its just .. gan and his monsters isnt it) ?? (also ... why isnt there a big like battle ground , like fine you dont have to animate an army of monsters and robots clashing but... wouldnt it be cool to have you discover a giant flat plain in the underground (that magically got put under ground like gan just decided to stroll down there to get sealed lol) and its the only mostly empty field in the game littered with thousands of monster bones and dead constructs intermingled?? just to give it all a bit of weight?? evidence that it happened?? cool ass discovery????)

(also also i cannot let go of ganondorf apparently being sooooo anti tech but then clamgan uses the shiekah stuff??? shouldnt he also be against that then or is that suddendly fine bc- oh woops sorry, forgot clamgan is actually just something, not connected to gan at all actually, i mean why else would miasma turn into malice only to turn into miasma again haha none of that is connected actually what is a calamity anyway? also im sorry to bring this up again but i just cannot let go of the ppl in the present being so obsessed with using sonau tech in every part of their life now- they just lived through an apocalypse of a barely understood strange tech but CLEARLY this other even less understood strang tech is not dangerous at all lets make CARS OUT OF IT and what theres no danger in miasma and that tech existing at the same time LIKE SOMETHING ELSE BEFORE THAT IDK SEEMS LIKE A BAD COMBO--- oh sorry forgot that ceased to exist in both the world and peoples minds for *gestures vaguely* plot reasons- why why why are monsters mining the sonanium?? they dont even work with the yiga no that is also completely disconnected we dont wanna draw and interesting connections after all- whats the point if it means nothing but to be a loot box for the player-- actually, so much of totk is just a so built around throwing you into a box of toys with no substance to it- listen i know games are kinda like toys but if it doesnt make sense and offers you nothing interesting to think about even slightly whAT IS THE POINT)

#ganondoodles talks #zelda #ganondoodles rants #totk #like not to make myself sound like a better writer ............ BUT #in my rewrite rauru does that also to suck the life out of the desert more and more to force the gerudo to be depended on their trade #to both pressure them and force them better into submission #bc of the whole plot point (in my rewrite) that rauru came from the underground with his dying people bc they discovered warnings of old #about the king of a deserts nation becoming a horrible world destryoing monster and so plotting with sonia to get gan secretly sealed #and by doing that rauru seals his own fate (rauru dies and its his stone that gets taken) like the fairytale prophecy thing making people-#-do exactly what leads to it while trying to avoid it #bc gan finds out and plots against it #-ANYWAY #when i see other people talk i need to talk again even if i make little sense

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icallhimjoey · 4 months

Text

Define Close

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: What good are flatmates even, if they don't comfort you when you need it most? Or when you need it a normal amount? Or, you know, when you don't really need it, but just really want it?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, afab!reader, hurt/comfort i guess? idk we're sad a lot and joe cheers us up a lot, mentions of reader having hair long enough to be played with

Author’s note: are you ready for us to sleep with joe? but, like, actual sleep? the literal kind? bc that's all this chapter is. just, snoozing. enjoy!

Wordcount: 4K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Joe let the door fall into its lock behind him and stood still for a second, ears perked, listening carefully.

The flat was quiet.

He was alone.

Good. So maybe he could call one of his friends to see if they wanted to join him for a run. Joe had two friends who he went running with, sometimes. You never understood it. When you run, you can’t talk? So why do that together? What was the point?

Competition was the point, was always Joe’s answer.

But if he was honest, he just felt a little less lonely if he had a buddy by his side. Felt a little less like a stupid loser who didn’t have any friends to work out with. Was just nicer if he could run alongside someone else. Share airpods. Listen to the same playlist.

Joe was already scrolling through his contacts when something stopped him in his tracks and made him jump out of his skin. Knocked the air right out of him.

He wasn’t alone.

It was silly how the lump in his bed made him gasp for air, how it shot his heart right up into his throat, the adrenaline immediately pumping.

Just as quick as he’d been to step into his bedroom, he stepped back out of it within a second.

Joe had to catch his breath in the hallway, as much out of earshot as he could be, because what the fuck? Nothing had really scared him like that in a long time.

He knew it was just you in there. There was literally no reason for the sight of you sneaking a nap in his bed to scare him like that.

Joe just hadn’t expected it, is why.

“Why would she–”

He pressed his fingers into an eye as he silently scolded you, and then, himself.

“Idiot.”

Sighing deeply, he closed out of his contact list and tapped the side of his locked phone against his chin as he considered his next move.

He could wake you up and tell you off for scaring him the way you’d done. Then still go for that run.

Or, what he also could do, was crawl into bed with you and have a little cosy nap together.

Taking a small step forward to peek around his doorframe, Joe saw how you peacefully dozed through his short-lived panic. He couldn’t see your face from where he was stood, just a body underneath his duvet and your hair fanned over one of his pillows.

Hmm.

Work out?

Or take a nap?

Sports?

Or sleep?

Be moving outside?

Or be still inside?

Joe almost laughed at how even before his mental dialogue asked him those questions, he’d already decided.

He took his shoes off and tiptoed into his bedroom, trying to be quiet as he undid his belt and slipped out of his jeans.

When he was stood next to his bed, your face was clearly visible. All soft with sleep, lips slightly parted, cheeks and nose noticeably rosy, eyes a little puffy.

Joe thought they were all signs you’d been asleep for quite a while already.

Either that, or perhaps you’d been crying earlier.

The second that thought crossed his mind, something beautifully painful hurt him somewhere deep inside of his chest.

If you’d cried, that made sense. Joe had found you in his bed a couple of times before, and even though you always had a different excuse, it was kind of obvious that you only ever snuck over into his room when you felt extremely sad.

It was awful that you sometimes managed to let your mood slip down so low.

But it was sort of gut-wrechingly heart-warming that being in between Joe’s sheets had become a remedy for it.

In just his socks, underwear and T-shirt, Joe slipped into his bed and sighed contently at the warmth he found there.

You, on the other hand, roused awake a little at the cold Joe brought in.

“Shh, shh,” Joe was shushing you before you’d even made any noise, and grabbed hold of your arm in apology, even though that did the opposite. Only made it worse, his cold fingers almost making you flinch.

“Go back to sleep.”

You’d not even properly woken up, and consciously you didn’t register those words, but you relaxed as Joe cosied up, limbs not intertwining, but Joe moved in close enough to touch, consuming as much of your body heat as he could. Ducking his face down underneath the covers a little more than yours was, even if just to make sure you weren’t nose to nose, because you were asleep, and what if you weren’t on the same page?

You were on the same page, though.

Joe knew you were.

It was just that you usually took the lead in setting the norm, and he liked it that way. It was why Joe never ended up in your bed with you. Why it was always you in Joe’s bed with him.

But the thought of you pulling away from him as you’d wake up to his face too close to yours hurt his feelings more than keeping a little distance there, just in case.

Although, he might just be overthinking things, because, remember the first time he found you in his bed?

Joe remembered.

Vividly at that.

Because before that moment, your nose had never been buried into his neck for so long.

That night he’d gone for drinks with a girl and had bought her enough drinks that she’d agreed to come back with him when he offered to make her a coffee over at his place.

An Italian coffee. He could make her one of those, if she was interested, he’d shrugged all casual.

She had given a knowing smile and asked him, “Yea? You make good coffee?” and Joe said he’d not gotten any complaints before, and it had been so stupidly obvious that they weren’t talking about coffee at all.

Upon entering the flat, and gentlemanly letting her go inside first, he told his date to be a little quiet in case his flatmate was asleep already.

But then he saw that your bedroom door was open, and he said, “Oh, never mind. I don’t think she’s in, actually,” as he went to open the door to his own bedroom.

He’d turned the light on, and then, immediately slapped the switch to turn it back off before quickly but quietly closing the door again.

Hmm.

Now what?

Couldn’t exactly take a girl into a bed that already had a girl in it, could he?

With the door handle still in his hand, he turned to look at his date, who seemed a little confused, but hadn’t seen what Joe had seen.

“Um,” Joe said, shaking his head a little in a bid to get rid of the disappointment of the change in plans. To shake off the awkwardness of what he was about to ask.

“So. Milk and sugar?”

He ended up making her an actual coffee.

Kind of had no other choice.

An Italian one, too.

And then helped her get an Uber right after.

When she’d gone, he’d hunched over his bed and gently woke you up. A little shake of your shoulder and some soft whispers of your name. When you opened your eyes and squinted up at him, he couldn’t help his spreading smile.

“Hey, you’re in the wrong bed I think...”

You’d hummed at him and closed your eyes again as you curled the covers into your chest tightly. It squeezed a soft giggle out of Joe.

“What are you doing in my bed?”

“Hmm, ‘t was cold.”

“Cold?”

You rolled over, turning your back towards him, and Joe knew he was never going to get you out of there. You’d fully settled in for the night hours before he’d even gotten home.

Not that he minded.

It was just new, then.

“Left my window open and forgot.”

“Okay.” Joe easily accepted the excuse, despite not believing it at all.

But he could just sleep next to you.

Not a problem.

You slept on the sofa lots, all close together. This really shouldn’t be any different, should it?

But when Joe climbed into bed after a date night where he fully planned on having sex and then didn’t actually get any, followed by you sleepily nuzzling into his neck and hugging him close, Joe realised cuddling up with you, in his bed, underneath his covers, absolutely was different.

Good different, though.

Good different.

When you’d woken up early the next morning, it took you a second to know where you were. You’d never woken up in this part of your flat before. When you remembered where you were, whose arm was draped across your frame, whose fingers were tangled up in your hair, and the reason you’d given Joe for being there, you felt you probably overstayed your welcome and carefully got up and out. Took heavy footsteps across the hall and then snoozed in your own bed for a bit before you decided you were ready to start the day.

You’d found Joe eating a late breakfast in the kitchen and opened the fridge to find some of your own.

You’d casually asked Joe how his date had gone, and Joe smiled into his bowl of granola before he answered, “Yea, fine. Was good. She was nice.”

He didn’t tell you about the coffee. Didn’t tell you about how you unknowingly cock-blocked him in a way he’d never been cock-blocked before.

And you didn’t talk about how you slept in a bed together for the first time that night.

Just became one of those things that happened, sometimes.

Another unspoken flatmate thing.

One that you didn’t talk about with each other, let alone anyone else.

It didn’t happen often, but it happened enough that Joe had been able to puzzle together some things.

He could count the occasions on his hands though still.

And he thought he could only vividly remember every single detail of just that first time he had you in his bed. But if he took a second, he’d understand that, actually, he could recall all details of all the times you slept with your face pressed into his pillow.

Like that one time when he had woken up in the middle of the night, confused at why he wasn’t able to turn over.

You’d curled up next to him, in the middle of the bed, over the covers, like a dog. Essentially trapping him tightly underneath his own covers.

He wondered how long you’d been there already. If you’d fallen asleep in your own bed first before you’d scurried across the hall to climb onto his. Or if you maybe had been stirring, unable to fall asleep, and had just come over to try your hand at it over there.

Either way, it was no use having you over the covers.

Joe sleepily petted you on the side until you raised your head to look up at him and saw how he was trying to push down the covers next to him.

You’d silently moved into bed with him then and when the rustling of duvet stopped, Joe whispered, “Everything ok?” and you’d softly hummed before you answered, “Weird dream.”

And he’d tried imagining what kind of dream could possibly be bad enough for you to not be able to go back to sleep in your own bed by yourself. He could only conclude that it had probably been something scary.

“You’re safe,” Joe’d reassured and pulled you closer by your waist. “We’re safe.”

But you’d already drifted back off.

It was easy to sleep next to Joe. He was soft and gentle and warm and comfortable and, somehow never awkward or too close.

That is, if there even was a ‘too close’ with the two of you.

There probably wasn’t.

And it wasn’t like you only ever found your way into Joe’s bed when he wasn’t there or awake to witness it.

Joe remembered the time when he’d gotten back from a day of shooting late in the afternoon. Short set day. He’d gone for a shower and then got half-dressed before his eye fell on a large envelope he’d left on his dresser. He was meant to finish reading that script yesterday, but he hadn’t even gotten around to opening the envelope.

Cut to about half an hour later, sat on his bed in just his pants, socks and a T-shirt still, Joe was reading from white pages and doing his best to visualise the scenes in his mind when he heard the door open.

There was a lot of careless movement, sounds of shoes falling to the doormat, a bag being thrown into the corner, a coat missing the hook and dropping to the floor and a lot of annoyed huffing and puffing.

You’d walked past his room first, but then it registered that you caught him in the corner of your eye, and so you went back.

Face planted yourself right onto his bed.

Joe didn’t acknowledge you at first, eyes firm on the page he was reading. But then he heard you inhale deeply and it sounded a little like you were trying to keep yourself from bursting into tears.

He’d moved a hand over. Got one of your calves and squeezed it, then rubbed it and dug in his fingers a little, moving like he was giving a weird massage over your tights. Kept reading, though.

You didn’t tell Joe if anything was wrong. Why you’d come home from work in a sour mood, why you had tears of frustration and fatigue pricking behind your eyes. Just plonked yourself onto his bed and enjoyed his quiet company until you dozed off into a light sleep.

Joe eventually finished whatever he was reading and the sudden sounds of movement in your proximity were enough to pull you from your short nap. He then suggested you’d have dinner together.

“Sure, what do you feel like having?”

“Pizza?” Joe looked over his shoulder, eyebrows raised in question.

You knew he was asking if pizza was needed tonight. If it was necessary.

But you’d smiled and said, “Maybe not.” reasoning that you’d probably eaten too much pizza over the past month, and Joe was glad, because this meant you felt better, the little snooze having somehow fixed whatever had been wrong when you’d walked in.

Staring at your now, faces close but not directly opposite one another, Joe could see that your eyes really were a little puffy and, yea, he was right, wasn’t he?

You’d been crying and then you got ready for bed and then, to make yourself feel better, had gotten into his bed instead of your own.

Fucking hell.

Joe felt a surge of guilt when he thought about how much he loved that. He shouldn’t love you more when you felt bad. Sad. Down and all miserable.

But how could he not if it made you end up all snuggled up in bed together?

He knew you never talked to each other about these things, but if you did, if you were the type of sensible people to use your words to work things out, rather than physical touch and closeness, he’d whisper all sorts of questions into your skin.

He’d ask if you were all right. If you’d been crying. If there was anyone who he needed to hurt, which he knew would make you laugh, because no way he was going to go out and fight someone. He’d ask if you wanted to talk about it, because he’d listen. If there was anything else he could do to make you feel better.

But you didn’t talk.

You weren’t sensible people who used their words.

So Joe didn’t whisper any questions into anything, but just let his forehead rest against your collarbone as he tried to fall asleep too. It took a little while, but the focus on your breathing ended up grabbing hold of him by the ankles and pulling him under eventually.

Just like it always did when you dozed off on the sofa together.

Just like it did that one time when he was meant to get up early, but, you were there, all toasty warm and silky soft in between his sheets. It was his own fault you were there. He maybe shouldn’t have offered his bed to you if he had been serious about waking up early.

It was just that, the night before, he’d heard you have a long phone conversation in your bedroom. All serious. No laughter. Took ages, and it was sort of late already. When you’d finally gotten off the phone, Joe found you sat on the edge of the bed in your pajamas, face stuck in your phone, and it looked like you were texting someone. He was about to ask if you’d seen the charger to his laptop, but then he heard you sniffle and saw you wipe a cheek with back of your hand.

He had no idea who you’d been speaking to.

Or who you were texting now.

You didn’t acknowledge him when he walked into your room, eyes on your phone screen still, and for a second Joe thought maybe his legs should carry him the other way. Away from you, out of your room to give you some space.

But then before he really knew what he was doing, he was stood next to you, sort of cradling your head in his arms. Hugging your skull. He took care to look away from your phone screen as to not invade your privacy.

When you finally put your phone down, you dipped your chin underneath one of his arms and kissed the bit of skin that was there as a thank you.

“Come on,” he then said, letting go of your head and walking towards the door.

He switched the light off just before stepping out into the hallway.

When you didn’t immediately come after him, he called, “This way!” over his shoulder, and then grinned to himself when he heard you softly mumble, “Yea, just a sec,” followed by something about needing to brush your teeth first.

When you walked into Joe’s bedroom shortly after, he was already in bed, laid down on his stomach on the left side of the bed.

That wasn’t where Joe usually slept.

That was were you slept whenever you were in that bed.

In an attempt to be funny, to lift the mood a little, you ignored the empty spot in Joe’s bed and instead flung the covers back on the left side and climbed right onto him.

You laid down on top of your flatmate, and swung the covers back as best you could.

You felt him shake with silent laughter which made you giggle. You whispered, “Good night.” and waited for Joe to roll over or to shake, to make you slide off of him, but that moment never came.

You fell asleep smiling, because it was hilarious that Joe was going to let you drift off in that position, with your head in the dip of his neck and your hips over his bum.

In the night, your asleep-self managed to find the empty spot and continued your slumber on the mattress, like a normal person.

But the morning brought revenge.

You usually woke up before Joe did, but Joe was meant to wake up early, remember? His alarm woke him up, shooting awake with a jolt, immediately fumbling with his phone to turn it off. It took him a second to even remember why he’d set the alarm in the first place.

He felt you stir right next to him and remembered how he’d fallen asleep the night before.

If you were to ever bring it up, which he knew you’d never do, he’d tell you it was the most uncomfortable sleep he’d ever had.

They’d be lies.

He loved being pressed into the mattress by your weight a little. Loved the feeling of your entire body on top of his like that.

He’d never tell you.

He’d hold on to the fib that you’d been a great inconvenience, and now, it was time for payback.

Joe’s alarm had pulled you out of your dream a little, but then you fully woke up when Joe suddenly rolled right onto your back.

All of him.

Right on top of you.

His face pressed into one of your shoulder blades, and the air audibly escaped from your lungs as you tried to sleepily protest.

“Oh my God,” you groaned, voice all constrained. “My arm, wait, my– ow, Joe,”

Your arm was caught underneath your stomach, sort of weirdly twisted, and just for a second, Joe pressed his elbows into the mattress on each side of you to lift is weight off.

You readjusted, and Joe asked, “Got it?” and you easily accepted your fate, knowing that the moment you confirmed, he would let himself drop again.

And that’s exactly what happened.

You sighed, eyes still close, breathed “Yea,” as you snuck said arm underneath your pillow and felt Joe carelessly crash into you again.

Without your arm hurting you, it wasn’t so bad, and you felt Joe nuzzle against the bare skin of your upper back. You fully relaxed as you felt him swipe some hair aside that he then gently played with for a moment.

It had been the steady rise and fall of your breathing that had Joe snoozing in no time. Admittedly, the mattress right next to you was more comfortable to sleep on, Joe wasn’t going to lie. But sleeping with his face pressed into your warm morning skin brought a different kind of comfort. He knew that the strap of your top was going to end up marking his cheek, but he didn’t care.

This was nice.

It was one of those feelings he rarely ever got to experience not being in a serious relationship with anyone.

He got certain desires met. If he was honest, that had become almost a little too easy. But it would just be that. Just the sex. He never cuddled, never snuggled with any of those girls. He’d be out of his mind to pull a stunt like rolling on top of one of them to snooze until he actually wanted to get out of bed.

He only got to do that with you. And so he did, the early morning plans he had then no longer important enough. Because he had you in his bed, all relaxed, with soft skin and steady breathing that worked like fucking magic.

Just like it was doing now.

And it sort of shouldn’t.

It wasn’t meant to all be so easy.

Joe’d found you in his bed, and he was actually meant to go for a run and then take a quick shower and then have dinner, maybe even see if anyone was up for a drink at the pub.

But he’d done none of those things.

And now here he was.

Falling asleep as he listened to your slow breathing, happy that it wasn’t hitching in your throat. He didn’t like how it sometimes did that when you had been crying.

That run could wait.

The shower after could wait.

Dinner could wait.

For now it was just warmth underneath his covers and your bodies pressed together. Later, you wouldn’t talk about it. And if Joe was lucky, you’d not take so long to be sad again.

Awful thought, he knew.

But he couldn’t help it.

Joe loved it when you felt bad, but only so he could be there to make it better.

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @bylermaxmayfield, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn, @dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma77645, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @miserybeans, @munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #icallhimjoey #define close

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archie-sunshine · 4 months

Text

SPARRING MATCH W/ MY EX (GONE WRONG) (GONE SEXUAL)(WING/DRIFT/RODIMUS 18+)

SYNOPSIS: Drift seethes. Wing demonstrates the power of a good pin. Rodimus learns from the master.

Read on AO3!

TAGS: Drift/Wing/Rodimus, smut, homoerotic sparring and wrestling, sticky sexual interfacing, threesomes, jealousy, past relationships, threesomes, oral(like a lot of oral), facials/bukkake(a little bit), situational humiliation, porn with the shadow of a plot

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Look, this is part of a greater au where wing lives, i'll explain it more if someone asks, but if drift reads as out of character to you bc of how i generally characterize him, just TRUST ME i am COOKING.

There were paint transfers on the training room’s mats. There were a lot of them, really, someone should probably come through to clean them. Drift supposed none of the cleaning droids could have been blamed for the mats and their disarray, they’d been training for several hours now, and the door was shut, making it unlikely for them to appear during one of their routines.

“OUFF-!” Rodimus grunted out over the sound of his frame crashing into the ground spoiler first. He flopped over his shoulders and flat on his belly as Wing released him from his suplex grip, letting out a long, pained groan.

Drift didn’t look at Wing, but from the tone of his voice, he was smiling as he said, “Nice attempt, Prime, but your footing could have been a bit more sturdy.” He wasn’t even strained, like it had taken the same amount of effort as raising a cube of energon to his dermas.

“Yeah- sure could’ve.” Rodimus huffed from the floor, rolling himself over onto his back and sighing. Wing came into Drift’s field of vision as he dragged Rodimus back up to his feet, reaching over his shoulder to casually thumb at the bend the floor had left at the tip of his spoiler.

Wing probably didn’t notice the minute flick away from his grasp the spoiler made. But Drift did. Drift noticed the barest flush to Rodimus’ cheeks as well, and the flicker of his optics. The sight of him melted the smell of incense and coolant from his sensors, the world should have narrowed down to a pinhole around him, like it tended to when they were here, in the training rooms.

But there was Wing, in the way again, fingers diligently bending the curved metal back into place, hardly regarding the stifled squeak Rodimus gave at the motion.

Drift’s optic twitched. Somehow, Wing remembered at that inconvenient moment that Drift was still present. Drift shuttered his optics quickly, attempting to look like he really was meditating like he had said he’d been.

“Are you finished meditating? Sorry, are we being distracting?” Wing asked, annoyingly earnest, annoyingly understanding.

Drift let a long, slow, hopefully quiet vent out before onlining his optics again. He tried for an easy smile, judging by the quirk to Wing’s brow, he clearly wasn’t selling it. “It’s alright! Room’s open to anyone, it’s probably not the best place to be meditating anyways.” He shrugged, getting up to his pedes and hastily walking towards the door.

“Wait!” Rodimus blurted, stepping between Drift and the exit. Drift fixed him with a pleading look. Rodimus ignored it. “Actually… I think maybe… I might have an easier time getting the moves right if I had a demonstration?” Drift’s pleading look turned murderous.

“A demonstration?” Wing chuckled. “Does our sparring not count as a demonstration?” Ours. Drift ground the word around in his processor. It didn’t fit right. It ground at the coding like he was using a cinder block to scrub his plating. He pushed the thought down, tamping hard into his overstuffed folders alongside the rapidly filling assembly of things he’d rather not think about. His jealousy was childish, Rodimus could like whoever he wanted.

“Well-! Yeah, but I meant more like…” Rodimus trailed off, turning on his heel and suavely bringing an arm around Drift’s back to coax him back into the room, “If I could watch someone more experienced spar with you!”

“Roddy-” Drift started, attempting to inject as much ‘I am going to make you hurt for this if you don’t let up’ into his tone as he could without it sounding like a threat. Rodimus’ smile turned crueler.

“Oh! That’s not a bad idea!” Wing chirped. Drift finally tore his optics away from Rodimus’ smug face to look at Wing. He looked positively delighted at the idea. Drift’s spark sank. “Drift, what do you think?” He asked, tilting his head with that warm, sunny smile on his face.

He remembered every time he had that smile. Drift remembered every time it had greeted him after a reboot, every time it had greeted him after being hauled off the floor from his heap of dented plating and embarrassment. It had taken Wing being knocked into a coma for Drift to wake up in the Crystal City for the first time without his stupid face looming over him.

“... Alright.”

It was hardly an enthusiastic assent, but if Wing had noticed, it didn’t seem like he cared. Rodimus’ grin somehow turned even sharper, his optics beaming at him as Wing stepped forwards to clap him on the back. “Wonderful! I hope you remember our positions?”

Drift didn’t let his mind wander. “I do, yes.” He stepped back from him, shooting Rodimus one last venomous glare as he trotted off to sit patiently at the edge of the mats. He got into his stance, allowing a long, soothing vent to escape his lips as he eased into the position. When he raised his optics to Wing, and he saw them mirrored in stance and breath, he felt his tanks do something funny in his abdomen. It was too familiar. He didn’t like it.

The two of them circled each other, orbiting an invisible point between them as they sized each other up. Wing was different. A reframe, maybe more than one, had gone by since they’d last met. Drift supposed he was a bit different too, his own reframes, his attitude, his… everything.

It only took a second of being lost in thought for Wing to advance on him. Drift wheeled back and to the side, delivering a jab to the side of Wing’s abdomen, or attempting to, when his forearm swung back to block it. Plating shifted against plating as Wing guided Drift’s arm harmlessly upwards, his other hand hooking around to drive up between Drift’s chassis and abdominal plating. Drift jerked backwards and hooked his elbow up and over Wing’s still moving arm, flipping his back to him and attempting to toss him over his shoulder.

Wing’s reframe was apparently heavier than it looked. The jet wrapped his free arm around under Drift’s crotch and leaned his heels back, dropping his center of gravity and using his hand where Drift had hooked him to grip his chassis properly and chuck him unceremoniously over his hip and onto the floor. Drift rolled, ignoring the sting in his back plating where he’d skidded, ignoring the squawked out laughter from Rodimus’ side of the room. He bounced back to his pedes and darted forwards for another attempt.

WHUD

Drift hit the floor again, his legs swept out from under him. He was already jumping back up the second he hit, trying his hardest to not notice the hungry glimmer in Wing’s eye and the warmth in his own tanks.

CRASH

His frame wasn’t really that light was it? Drift had asked Ratchet to keep him limber for dexterity purposes, but he hadn’t thought that would have made him this easy to throw. He could feel his own engine rumbling angrily at the state of things, embarrassment burning hot in his cheeks as he peeled his face off the floor and trained it back to neutrality before he turned around to send a flying kick at Wing’s helm.

BANG

Drift’s engine snarled, loud and unbidden. He flipped himself back over from where he’d been chucked-again- ignoring the training blasters clattering off his back from where they’d fallen. He made a break for him on all fours before remembering himself and staggering upright. Wing looked perfectly content, perhaps excited, bouncing on his pedes. He was waiting for him, toying with him. If he really wanted to win he would have lunged before Drift had even gotten his bearings, but he didn’t care about winning.

He just wanted to humiliate him. Like he always did.

They were circling again. Drift leaned into his limp a bit more. Wing would probably pity him enough not to attack again if he looked like he was rougher done than he was. Drift’s optics flicked to Rodimus. He was grinning impishly at him, cheeks red and air warping minutely around his finials where he was giving off too much heat.

Wing’s frame crashed into Drift’s. The speedster let out a choked off cry, biting it out into a growl at the end as he wrapped his elbow tight around Wing’s neck. No, no no no he was NOT going to embarrass him again, he was NOT-

THUD

Apparently, somewhere in Wing’s stupid, stupid processor, he had decided that just throwing Drift back first into the mats wasn’t humiliating enough.

“A-ah- WING-!” Drift gritted out. His plating ground together as Wing manhandled ankle joints down on the mat next to his finials. He could feel Wing’s pelvic plating burning against his back as he held him fast against the ground.

“See Rodimus, a good pin always puts your opponent in a position in which the only means of escape is painful…” Wing nudged Drift’s frame further in half with his hips. Drift’s claws dug harder into the mat. “To encourage their submission.” He looked down at Drift almost expectantly when he said it, chipper and jovial on the surface, but below it Drift could practically smell his smug pride.

Drift set his jaw and wriggled. Wing tilted his head, optics narrowing in a challenge. Drift’s tanks squirmed again. That familiarity was there, tapping, scratching, thumping at his processor. He recalled that look. He knew it too well from every hushed night time spar, every heated training session gone too far. That look, that question.

Do you know when to quit?

Yes… that… and also…

Wing’s optics squeezed affectionately, coyly, another question as he adjusted his grip on Drift’s ankles.

Or am I going to have to make you?

Drift’s fans felt like they wouldn’t click on. His vocalizer felt choked in his throat. He wriggled again, returning the look in kind with his own stubborn glare.

Wing looked up from him with one final grin, turning to Rodimus. “Hey, Prime?” He called. Drift’s spark swirled. This wasn’t what he’d expected- Heat flared in his cheeks. He squirmed again, helplessly clawing at Wing’s thighs. He wasn’t tapping out, he didn’t want to stop- but- “Can you come hold his legs down for me?” Rodimus couldn’t see him like this- not that close up.

Rodimus scrambled to his pedes. He dropped heavily to the mat near Drift’s helm. Wing’s servos stroked up Drift’s calves, still holding them fast against the ground just long enough for Rodimus to pin his ankles there with his knees. He drew back, using his own knees to hold Drift’s wrists in place against the ground. With his hands free, he brought them up over his thigh plating luxuriantly, finally coming to a halt on either side of his modesty panel.

Drift kicked and bucked as much as he was able, only succeeding in drawing a snicker from Rodimus. Wing leaned down, resting his chin on Drift’s paneling and looking down at him. His expression was full of playful adoration, so genuine and intense it made Drift’s plating quiver.

“You’re always so stubborn, Drift, you haven’t changed a bit.” Wing sighed out happily, tipping his helm to peck and nose gently at his panels for a moment before leaning in to lay a long, wet, open mouthed kiss right above where Drift’s node would be. Drift gritted his teeth and struggled again. This time Wing laughed, breathless and warm against his plating. He flicked his glossa out to lave at his panels. An urgent ping to open his panels appeared in his processor. He willed it away, squeezing his optics shut as Wing continued to lick and suck at the heated metal there.

Drift tried to think of anything but the sensations radiating from between his thighs. Rodimus groaned softly at the sight, one of his servos absently coming up to rub at his own modesty panels. Drift peered up helplessly at him, but Rodimus’ optics were transfixed by Wing’s ministrations. Jealousy boiled hot again in his guts, and yet-

His panels snapped open so fast they almost pinched Wing’s tongue. Drift’s spike pressurized eagerly to hang over his face and chassis in this awkward position. Wing hummed appreciatively, clearly taking in Drift’s new array for a moment before seeming to notice something. Drift offlined his optics again the second Wing began to grin at him again.

“Oh you still have the knot?” He asked casually.

“The what?” Rodimus interjected ragedly.

“I-I don’t-” Drift began to lie.

“No, you do, I can see right here-” He brought one of his hands up, using a digit to outline the place where his spikemesh was a different texture, slightly swollen out, though not even close to it’s full size. He’d made sure of that. Drift always kept those codes off nowadays.

“You have a knot? YOU MODDED YOUR SPIKE?!” Rodimus gaped, turning his helm from Drift’s spike to his face and back again a few times. Drift felt as though he might explode. He wanted to explode. He wanted to explode very badly.

“He had more mods when we first met.” Wing said casually, rubbing his digits delicately up the underside of Drift’s spike. Drift bit the inside of his cheek, swallowing a pathetic whine. “You’ve still got the double fluid lines, too.”

“T-they were just-” Drift huffed out, his optics flickering as Wing’s digits explored his spike and node. “Ah- T-too annoying to remove-” He lied again.

“I’m glad you kept them, they look good on you.” Wing purred, thumbing at Drift’s node. Drift’s spark did a little flip in it’s casing. He moaned out weakly through his teeth, his fans kicking up a level. Rodimus was staring at him again, now at his face. Drift tried not to make eye contact, but he could see the awe in Rodimus’ face still, like he’d won the lottery and hadn’t even known it. He hated when Rodimus looked at him like that. He didn’t earn that look. He didn’t deserve it.

Drift gasped as Wing began to lick a stripe up his valve, exploring the soft mesh before taking the anterior node greedily into his mouth and sucking. Drift’s hips lurched forwards, his spike bobbing against his belly. There was no escaping. Wing’s servos held his hips fast, keeping his array on display as Rodimus finally tore his gaze from Drift’s face to stare at Drift’s spike instead.

Drift gasped out as Rodimus took his spiketip between his lips. He struggled and writhed again, desperately wanting to frag further into his welcoming intake. He watched a line of drool trickle from Rodimus’ lips as he pressed his helm down further on it. He bobbed his helm gently, each stroke taking more and more into his throat. Drift’s optics flickered.

Wing slid two fingers carefully over his valveport before dipping them inside, wringing another choked off cry from Drift’s vocalizer. He could no longer hold his jaw shut, a billow of steam rising between Rodimus’ thighs as the other speedster continued to shower his spike in attention. Wing’s digits hooked up to push at the interior nodes along his first few calipers. Drift gasped out and wriggled ineffectually again. He could feel his charge building already, the two of them now working a steady rhythm, both sucking and licking at his spike and node respectively. Drift wondered how they looked meeting in the middle of his array, wondered if their lips brushed, or if their eyes met in equally lustful gazes.

Drift’s spike twitched. His optics had gone dim and lidded, vocalizer crackling with static through each desperate, strained moan. He was getting close already, his stamina was pathetic under their mouths. Drift’s cries notched up an octave with each head bob and curl of digits. His moans reached a fever pitch, then suddenly, with a confused squeak from Rodimus, all contact disappeared.

Drift gasped out, his spike throbbing against his belly, his calipers cycling in search of something, anything inside him. His engine growled out in frustration as he began to struggle again.

They both just ignored him.

“You must be a little worked up, eh, Prime?” Wing cooed.

Rodimus’ vocalizer spat static for a moment before he could properly respond. “Oh- Not terribly, I’m all good.” He choked out unconvincingly.

Wing leaned up, bringing his hips level with Drift’s. His own panels slid open. Drift whined as his spike pressurized out, slapping against his soaked array wetly. He drew his hips back and forth a few times with a sigh. “I only ask because… hah… I’m feeling a little hot under the panels myself.” He chuckled coyly. “May I?”

The strangled groan Rodimus let out at the mere concept of Wing fragging him made Drift’s whole body feel as though it was going to pop. “S-sure- slag yeah-!” Rodimus huffed out.

“Good, don’t worry about his legs anymore, he’s not going anywhere.” Wing smiled. Drift squirmed again, then cried out as Wing flicked his spike hard with his digits. A dribble of his own prefluid splattered against Drift’s chassis. “Let me handle you, captain.”

Another flare of jealousy bloomed in Drift’s spark. It was different though, strange, wrong, unfamiliar- He peered up at Wing, searching his expression.

Wing caught his gaze and winked.

Drift’s spike throbbed. Oh no. This jealousy- no. It was something worse.

Something way more embarrassing.

Rodimus popped up to his feet, his spike pressurized before he even finished getting up. Wing brought his hips back, dragging every ridge and bump of his spike over Drift’s array before nudging the tip of it against the first caliper of Drift’s valveport.

Drift keened as it slid home inside of him. It was heavy, thick and textured. Each ridge complimented one of his calipers in kind, each biolight sparking against one of his nodes. Drift heard Rodimus gasp, then watched him begin to pump his hips gently forwards into Wing’s mouth.

Drift whined again, and Wing began to thrust into him. This was humiliating. He was mewling for him like a cyberkitten, squirming and pinned like an amateur. His head felt light, all the energon rushing there from his odd position. He was leaking prefluid all over his front. Every so often it would drip on his face, making him whine. Wing just kept pumping his hips. Rodimus moaned and curled over Wing’s helm, his hips jerking weakly into the jet’s mouth.

Drift squeaked as Wing’s hand wrapped around his spike, right at the base, where the knot would be. A ping appeared at the front of his processor.

[Let me see it.]

Drift’s optics fritzed and sparked. He pawed around his slow processor for the codes and disabled them clumsily. He bathed in his own shame and lust as it began to widen and swell, even more energon rerouting away from allowing him to think right to fill his knot. He rasped out a moan as Wing began to massage the swelling protoform, before grasping his knot hard in one hand, digits spread on either side of his shaft. He squeezed, hard, painful, and Drift screamed out.

It had been so long since this feeling, this claiming. Every bit of him was Wing’s, his array pulsing in time with Drift’s, the feeling of his frame being a prize, one that only Wing had earned right. His valve fluttered and rippled around Wing’s spike. For a moment Drift felt it again, the feeling of being a wild, feral monster, pinned and trained and brought to heel. Drift groaned out helplessly as Wing’s grip on his knot eased. He palmed the underside of his knot and pinned it against his belly, rubbing it mercilessly against the overheated plating there.

Wing’s hips snapped forwards to meet his as Rodimus moaned out. “O-Oh frag- I’m c-close-”

Wing pulled his face back with a wet pop. “Give it to Drift, over his face, c’mon.” He huffed out hoarsely. Rodimus moaned deeply just at the thought. His servo clumsily pumped and stroked at his own spike, pointing it down at Drift’s face without even looking at him. He wasn’t even looking at him, he wasn’t even looking at him-

Wing squeezed his knot once more and it was over. Both his own and Rodimus’ transfluid pelted him in the face and chassis. Drift groaned in humiliation as he overloaded, cringing at the flavour of his own fluids hitting his tongue. He felt like he was drowning in it for a moment, his optics flicking off as transfluid squirted there carelessly. Wing was ruthless, adjusting his position to slam even harder into Drift’s valve. Each thrust just bobbed Drift’s spike more, giving his whole front an even coating of spend as he milked each and every drop from him.

Drift’s moans were turning to gurgling, desperate, overstimulated whines as Wing chased his own edge. His valvemesh felt hot and abused, his whole array stinging, processor belatedly warning him of excess charge generation being adverse to his health.

Wing moaned deeply and drew his hips back suddenly. Drift’s lower half flopped strutlessly to the floor, only for Wing to surge forwards, his thumb hooking in Drift’s already filled mouth. Hunger glowed in Wing’s optics as he held his intake open and stroked his spike hard and quick. The whimper Drift let out when Wing finally spent his load across Drift’s face and tongue was as pathetic as a sob.

Even when his climax finished, Wing refused to let up, pinching Drift’s glossa and pulling it out to inspect how much transfluid had gathered there. Drift gurgled piteously.

“You caught so much, good job!” Wing beamed. A spark of annoyance twinged in Drift’s spark. He tried to bite down on Wing’s digits. Wing drew his hand back too swiftly for it to work, only succeeding in biting his own tongue. He winced, but Wing just grabbed his jaw and clamped it shut. ��Now swallow.”

Drift’s throat lurched and spasmed. Rodimus let out another staticky gasp at the display. Squeezing his optics tightly shut, Drift choked down their transfluid and breathlessly opened his intake.

“Gooood bot….” Wing purred, stroking over Drift’s finials lovingly. He climbed off of him and gathered him up, holding him against his chassis and petting down his back. Drift’s spark did a funny little squeeze at the gesture. It had been so long since they’d seen each other, and he’d been so jealous when he’d taken to Rodimus so quickly… Maybe he didn’t have anything to fear. He nuzzled his face into his chassis, his engine rumbling pleasantly against Wing’s. How could he be mad at him?

“So, Prime, do you think that was an adequate demonstration?” Wing chirped pleasantly.

Drift’s finial flicked in indignation. Oh yeah, that was how.

“... I’ve never seen him like that.” Rodimus breathed. Heat flared in Drift’s frame again. This was too vulnerable.

Drift’s optics flickered on as he flinched. Rodimus’ servos met Drift’s back plating almost reverently. His knuckles pet over each ridge of his plating with an almost awed display. His lips pressed tenderly against the back of Drift’s neck as he tucked into Wing’s lap against him. His hands went shy suddenly, hesitantly wrapping around his waist.

Drift’s spark squeezed at the ping Rodimus sent him, too embarrassed to utter it in front of Wing, even as their fields mingled with affection and satisfaction.

[I love you.]

Drift let his optics flutter back offline.

[I love you too.]

#my art #transformers #valveplug #my fic #driftwing #mtmte #wiftrod #wing #drift #rodimus #wingrod #smut #/nsfw #/nsfw text #lemon

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