#digital painting is not my strong suit at all | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blingblong55 · 10 months

Text

Model- 141+ König NSFW

Based on requests:

1.OKAY BUT 141+KÖNIG WITH A READER THAT DOES DIGITAL ART🏃‍♂️ 2.Can you write about TF141+König with an S/O what draws, animates, etc? I was thinking more digital art, but traditional is cool too. If you only wanna do one character, can it be Ghost? Thank you!

GN!reader, digital artist/painter!reader, established!relationship, civilian!reader, smut, 18+, MDNI, Sub!Male, Dom!reader

A/N: Some will be short...and you'll definitely notice who is my favourite on this one

As someone with the talent and skills to create art with your hands and a clean canvas, you always find yourself looking for a model. Thankfully, he is there now, in that position, just for you.

Price:

You mentioned before that you needed a model to help you with proportions for your art. Your strong and bulky boyfriend decided to be just the right model you needed. For months you and him work late at night, and he props himself up for you, wearing whatever you need to bring your ideas to life. The people who buy said art always admire how realistic your art looks, and how no other artist does what you do. And it's all thanks to him.

At the moment, he is on the sofa, dressed in a black suit, a collar around his neck, eyes looking at you, pleading for you. "Stay still, I have to get this angle." You sketch his body onto the canvas of your tablet. You had been teasing him since he woke up, vibrator to his sensitive cock. You had tied him up before this session, mainly because he kept touching himself for some release. Now, staying still and obeying was his punishment. And for him, it was the worst one so far.

"How...much...more...please..need-.." he said in between whimpers and moans. You approach, looking at him, taking in how needy he was being. You get down on your knees, and he moves a little only to find you sketching this position. He whines and closes his eyes, whimpers getting louder by the second. "Stay still or do I have to teach you another lesson?" The masochist in him wanted to be taught a lesson, "Please..please do" You grin, and slap his face lightly causing him to whimper in response. "Don't make any noise, I'm busy.." For an hour, he stayed still, cumming from just the way you teased and looked at him. For sure, this site would end up in someone's dungeon.

Gaz:

When he and you started to get more intimate and he'd make you look at what you and he were doing through the mirror, that's when you knew he had to be the model you'd use for your creations. It took time to mould him into who he is for you but it was all so worth it. Currently, he is leashed to your canvas' stand. Looking up at you, the bite marks and hickeys you had done hours prior still worn proudly on his neck. He was wearing nothing but the collar on his neck and the fishnets you made him wear. His face is slightly red from the heated makeout session you two had since he was a good boy for you.

Your paintbrushes colouring the canvas in front of you, he looked up at you. How sexy you looked when you were so focused on your art. You know he likes it when others watch as you fuck him. How well you can ride and how well he can listen to you. So, you brought a mirror into the art studio. Made him look at his reflection as you ride him, each time he would ruin a line in your art, it was another slap to his already abused face. Tears ran down his cheeks but a wide smile as he enjoyed the thought of how others would look at the canvas and see a moment where you once more made him yours.

Paintbrushes used to mess with his already-hardened nipples. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you to go faster, but you resisted, not wanting to ruin the creation you were making. Some paint smudged to his chest, your hand prints on them when you'd get carried away and ride him faster.

Soap:

He was the one who offered himself up, wanting to please you not just physically but visually. You had made him wear his kilt, war paint on as he spread his legs open for you. Hands in between his thighs, he leans forward, looking up at you with puppy eyes. You had been working with him in this position for too long now and all he needed was just some attention, physically. You knew you wanted this painting to feel more personal, needed a touch of yourself and him in it. So, you picked out the paints that were safe for the next activity you had in mind. You laid the cloth of a canvas on the floor and commanded him to go to it and get on his knees to wait for you.

Poured some of the safe paint on his chest, and you and he began to make out. The cloth filled with paint, art made from your bodies. By the time you and him were done paint was all over your bodies. He requested, as a reward, that you and him take a shower and if you wanted, he could also pose for you in the shower.

Ghost:

He loves to be your sub so when you mentioned that you needed a model for your art, he wanted to be the subject of all your attention. Currently, you have him tied up with leather ropes. A cock ring on him as you paint his position. He looks up at you with puppy eyes, his mask lifted only far up for you to see his lips. Every now and then, he closes his legs to get some friction, only to have his inner thighs spanked by you. He whimpers a little, asking for forgiveness since he knows what you will do to him after you are finished painting this position.

He looks at you, doe-eyed. "Please, please just touch me...just once." But you ignore his pleas. He shuts his eyes and begins to think of how you would touch him. That was the only way he could find some release while he was tied up. You look at the canvas, paint and figures finally making sense, and then you hear his loud moans and cries of pleasure. He was cumming at the thought of you, no one around to touch him, just his mind playing for him.

His whimpers were louder as he couldn't stop cumming, it all leaked everywhere, spurting out as he bucked his hips. "Oh...yes...oh..mmm." he moans. Leather leaking his own mess as you watched with a pleased smile.

König:

It all started with asking him for help in a position you weren't quite sure you knew how it worked or looked. He offered to help and now months later, he has become the man you please and base your art on. Tonight, you had a sudden idea, a man in a suit, touching himself as he wore some rather rougher ropes around his suit. König, is never opposed to the idea, he loves to listen to you and if he knows he can please you this way, then as your good submissive boy, he will obey. The tie he was wearing was now used as a choker that you pull any time he moans too loud.

When you finish sketching his position he looks at you, brows furrowed. "Can I please be touched now? I was a good boy...please" his voice soft, whimpers low. You stand up, the pen which you used to sketch his position in hand. You trail the cold pen along his skin, reaching his sensitive parts. He begins to move his hips, hoping you could go faster, to touch him sooner. Your hands are on his hip when his already hardened cock begins to throb, pre cum leaking as he looks at you. "Meine liebe, I'm so..." he moans. "I'm your messy boy..." he whimpers.

A/N: Maybe this was not part of the request...but a girl has her own needs...anyway..bye

817 notes · View notes

sehtoast · 7 months

Text

The Hand That Feeds (Homelander x Reader Smut)

18+ | 1.3k. Finger sucking, handjob, praise kink, come as lube. | Gender Neutral Reader | Fic Directory

gif by @homeb0ys

Every so often, this is exactly what he needs.

"Who's my good boy?"

To lay his head in your lap, let you play with his hair, thumb softly at his temples, his cheeks, stroke along his jaw. It never fails to bring him back down to earth. Settle him into peace and delight.

Especially once your fingertips trail over his lips. It was so easy to catch your digits. You never did fight it. If anything, you encourage it with your little chuckles and teasing words.

"You like that?"

He does.

So fucking much.

He loves the taste of you. The warmth of your touch and the peace of your presence. He loves the way you hum to him, let him talk about his day, sooth his woes and take him away from everything that hurts.

You tell him he is far greater than what he suffers.

He believes you.

He loves to flit his tongue between your fingers. He stares up at you with glassy eyes, takes in every hazy detail of you as he sinks lower and lower into a space where his only concern is feeling good, hearing how wonderful he is, drowning in the sensation of you.

You stroke your fingers rhythmically against his tongue, letting him satisfy his little fixation. If not for the fact both of your hands are occupied, you would reach down and unzip his pants. You smile knowingly.

Of course his hips had begun to move.

He gazes up at you and you meet his eyes head on. You smile, press a kiss to his forehead, and whisper.

“Attaboy…”

He sighs, breath fanning over the top of your hand as you press your fingers deeper. This earns you another gyration of his hips.

“Look at you, sweetheart.” You coo. “My wonderful boy. So strong and handsome… You deserve to feel good, don’t you? You worked so hard today, did so much… I think you deserve a reward.”

He nods enthusiastically, tongue flitting between your digits as though he were miming the act of eating you out. There's a hint of mischief in his eyes, no matter how hazy, and you know that’s exactly what he wants you to imagine. You catch him palming his groin in your peripheral vision and you grin.

“That’s it, Johnny… Show me.” Your fingers scratch through his hair and the suction on your fingers becomes tighter. “Show me what a good boy like you deserves.”

A deep groan rumbles against your digits, and you watch him thrust against his gloved hand. He makes no move to unzip his pants.

“Mmm, baby… You deserve more than that.” You goad. “Why don’t you slip that glove off, unzip your pants, and pull that pretty little cock out for me to see?”

He’s nodding and following through all at once. Both gloves hit the floor and his drooling cock is free within moments, pants pushed halfway down his thighs. You catch him looking up at you for approval.

For your permission. He wants you to tell him he’s allowed to have this.

“Look at you…”

You see his shaft jump. A string of precum clings to the top of his suit.

“Go ahead, baby. Touch yourself.”

You glance down to make sure he does. You watch him grasp the base of his cock, giving a light squeeze.

He whines against your fingers, bringing your focus back to his eyes.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” You ask, winking at him. You hold his gaze as he strokes, watching his efforts to keep his eyes from rolling back. Those ocean blue eyes flicker red before he gives in and lets them flutter shut. “My sweet, sweet Johnny.”

Your fingers slink further inside until you’re knuckle deep and can feel the back of his tongue swallow against you. You draw your fingers back, painting his lips with his saliva. “Talk to me, pumpkin. How’s it feel?”

“Mmph, s’good,” he slurs, fist gliding slowly up and down the length of his cock. “Mmm…”

You give a tug at his hair and he keens, hips jerking. He slows himself, and you smirk. Homelander wants to draw it out.

Your fingers smooth over his lips as each soft pant warms your skin. Watching him like this has your body on fire and you know he can tell. You know he can smell your arousal, and you know damn well that it drives him wild. He’ll fuck you raw later, this you can guarantee. But now?

This is for him.

“You’re so perfect, baby. I love you,” you murmur as you press a kiss to his forehead. “Love seeing you like this. Seein’ you feel good.”

You lean down to kiss him, tongue slipping past his lips to mingle with his. He’s vocal as you explore him, moaning and whining into your mouth as the pace of his hand increases. His other hand pulls you closer by the back of your neck and it’s your turn to keen for him.

You can’t help it. He tastes so good.

Your hand travels to join his, and you slick his shaft with his spit. He sings against you, arching his back. You feel his hand release, and you’re positive he’s moved down to cradle his balls.

You, however, are generous. He’s gone slow with himself long enough and your good boy deserves a treat.

Your thumb dances at his tip, spreading that salty sweet bead into the spit that coats him. You tease the underside of the head with one finger on each downstroke. His foreskin moves with each glide and his hips push lazily for more.

Homelander’s hand falls to your shoulder. His blunt nails dig against you and you smirk against his lips. He won’t hurt you. Not like this, especially not with your strength.

You catch his tongue and suck on it when he lets out a particularly pitchy moan.

“C-Close,” he pants. His hips gyrate into your grip, but you won’t rush him.

Your hand tugs his hair again and your grip tightens just a smidge around his cock. You feel his shiver, and you know he’s nearly there. You break away to whisper in his ear.

“My hero… I love you so much, baby.”

He presses his cheek against you, fanning hot breaths against you.

“Come for me, pumpkin.” You murmur, kissing softly at his temple. “My good boy…”

He thrusts up harshly once, twice, and a final third time before he succumbs. He’s whining pitifully by the time you kiss him again. You swallow every sound. You feel every heavy breath he pushes from his nose.

You consume his bliss.

You stroke him firmly through the pulses of his orgasm. Most of his come lands on his upper body but some manages to dribble onto your hand. You use it to slick him more.

His hands grasp at you as he squirms. The one remains at your shoulder, the other grasps at your wrist.

You love this.

Knowing he needs you so. That he holds onto you so tightly as he falls apart. He trusts you to keep him together.

When your lips part, he huffs a heavy exhale.

“Hmm… love you,” he breathes. He repeats himself over and over again as he comes down. His eyes are big and doe like when they open again to find you smiling down at him.

“I love you, baby.” You tell him. You press a kiss to his nose, trailing up to his forehead. Your fingers massage his scalp, and your other hand pries his free to hold it, digits interlacing with his. Neither of you minds the mess.

“M’takin’ care of you later,” he mumbles. “Promise.”

You let him doze off anyway, safe and sound in your arms.

#homelander #homelander x reader #antony starr #homelander fanfiction #homelander smut #the boys #cozy corner kinktober #just bc it satisfies the praise kink bit lol

324 notes · View notes

jake-g-lockley · 1 year

Note

It's degen hours rn so naturally I'm thinking of Jake inserting a jalebi into fem reader and then eating it and heading the audacity to comment on the combined sweetness like he's a Michelin star food critic 💀

Delicacy (Jake Lockley x reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Wanna be Tagged?

A/N: Hi, you’re tryna MAKE ME SIN? NOT THE COOCHIE JALEBI. Look, as a woman in STEM, under no circumstances you put anything that messes your pH anywhere near your coochie. HOWEVER, Jake fuckin Lockley gets a pass, for now, so here’s my rendition of masterchef coochie-

Warnings: MDNI, smut, cunnilingus, vaginal insertion (PLEASE DO NOT DO THIS)

You’re not exactly saying that picture frames don’t suit Jake Lockley.

You’re just implying that your legs are a better alternative in these instances.

The picture you had painted yourself was one of absolute perfection. A gift of sweets, followed by an almost joke of a tease, was playing out perfectly as Jake hooked one of your legs over his strong shoulders, your heel already digging hard into his sculpted back as his breath fluttered at your exposed cunt. His opened mouth exposed the tip of his tongue, the landing strip to all of the promises he meant himself to keep as well as the weapon of mass destruction that was going to literally ensure that you will forget everything about yourself.

“Beautiful as always, mi amor.” Jake breathed, eyeing his next meal as he gently caressed your soaked folds with his large fingers, not forgetting to circle your bundle of nerves before popping the wet digits into his mouth and letting out a delectable moan.

His wet fingers slipped into you again and you felt your whole body clench at the sensation. He smiles up at you, a hungry but boyish smile that makes you see stars as he stretches you open, scissoring his fingers. Without a warning, he goes knuckle-deep, pressing against that spongy spot that makes you gasp and melt further into the pillow that supports your lolling head.

“Hey, look at me,” your pussy clenches again as your eyes snap towards Jake’s lust blown ones. “You come on my tongue tonight, okay?”

You breathe out a small okay and Jake reaches his free hand over to the container next to him, breaking a piece of jalebi. You’re so drunk on the idea of Jake literally eating you out that you didn’t care what he did to achieve it. You trusted him but the rational part of you knew that one day, you and him were going to die from his crazed ideas. You were nothing close to being rational in this instant, everything that made sense flew out the window when you caught the naughty look in his eyes.

He pulled his fingers out of you, the unholy sound echoing across the silent flat, making you blush. Your slight embarrassment is yanked right out of you as Jake pushes the piece he broke inside of you and from that point, he went absolutely feral. You watch as he continues to stuff you full of the sweet, till your knuckles went white from gripping the sheets below you too hard. You stayed as still as you possibly could but failed when Jake’s syrup soaked thumb came to rest on your bundle of nerves, your hips bucking up instantly, a moan ripping from your lungs.

The few seconds where he played with your clit felt like hours, and you wanted so bad to kick his pretty face away from you and satisfy yourself, but you wanted his tongue so bad.

“Jake, sweetheart, please.” you beg and he smiled from his vantage point, not wasting another second before diving in.

Both of his hands held you open as his tongue began to loudly scoop the sweet out of you. The flat’s air was filled with the sacrilegious noise of wet pussy, Jake’s tongue and your combined moans. Your hands quickly found his curls and you tugged him closer, pressing your pussy further into his face as your clit caught his nose. He enjoyed the lack of air, his mouth acting quicker as his lungs burned.

You’ve never heard Jake this vocal in your life. He was rutting into the corner of the bed with the same pace as his tongue that was plunging in and out of you. The pieces of jalebi were disappearing fast and your release was coming in quicker than you expected as you rubbed your clit harder into Jake’s nose.

“fuckfuckfuckJakedon’t-” your orgasm pushed the rest of the pieces out of you and your soul that left your body stared in horror as Jake continued to eat you out, no mercy.

With an almighty moan into your pussy, Jake’s hips and tongue stilled as he pressed himself down onto the bed. He came to his senses soon after and as you were still catching your breath, he lapped at your folds softly, mumbling incoherent words as he tried his best to clean you up. You were struggling with the overstimulation so you grabbed Jake by the collar of his shirt and pulled him up, kissing him breathless and tasting yourself and the syrupy goodness on his tongue.

“Fuck, Jake, that was something else.” you pressed your forehead against his and let your breaths mingle trying your best to let your hearts slow.

“You taste so fucking rich, I knew that the jalebi would taste sweeter with your juices, amor.” he moans, his hips stuttering again next to your aching leg. “Decadent, it was like drinking nectar that was made for the gods, so sweet, so dangerous.”

You giggled but your eyes widened as you eyed the wet patch at Jake’s crotch.

“Guess I found my new favourite dessert.”

A/N (again): Sigh, why do I do this to myself

taglist: @fandxmslxt69 @randomnessfangirl @in-between-the-cafes @bodhisattva11 @marc-spectors-wife @nyotamalfoy @steven-grants-world @jbearre85 @whatsliferightnow @minigirl87 @wonderfulboiledcoldpotato @alexxavicry @autismsupermusicalassassin @flordelalunas @marygraceee @lia275 @euphoricosmo @sky-robin @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @sugarpunch-princess @violet-19999 @celiaswife @swiggy-needs-mental-help @ghostheartbeat @kierramofficial @ryebreadsworld @your-voice-is-mellifluous @lil-stark @absolutelybloodyhopeless @mintpurplemnm @spookyysilverr

Reblogs are appreciated~~~~

228 notes · View notes

esculentevil · 1 year

Text

(Thorinduil ABO’verse AU) Heatwear: Dressed to the Toes

((Part 1 of Thorin discovering the specifics of Elven clothes for Omegas in Heat via Thranduil.))

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆💎AO3/Pillowfort🌲☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆

“Are you... in a DRESS???”

Thranduil cants his head almost lazily as he turns his gaze from the document held between his destructively delicate digits to the incredulous dwarf below him. A thick eyebrow raises judgmentally before the Elvenking nods elegantly, “Yes.” There’s no shyness or shame in his voice, this is simply a statement; but, somewhere in his stardust eyes, there is a subtle trace of fear.

But Thorin knows it is not about the dress.

As he tries to figure it out, his own thick (although, not AS thick) brows furrowing in confusion, Thranduil scripts something on the long paper he’s still reading with a thin piece of graphite about the length of his hand (which is, Thorin notes with surprise and interest, slightly smudged from using it; he wonders, for a moment, why an elf would, then, use such an instrument [they do so hate getting dirty, after all] before realizing with a start that it’s probably easier to clean than ink--similar to their own use of chalk). He studies his scroll critiquingly for a breath before finally turning back to the Dwarfking, “It is my understanding, mell Thorin, that you are here to personally give me my quota of mithril, naed?”

Frowning at the bits of indecipherable Elvish, Thorin squints and scowls before nodding once in affirmation and attempting to approach the taller king’s throne.

He’s immediately fenced off by two elven guards and what he thinks is a butler. They form a wall that he cannot get through or passed and stare down at him like he’s some kind of vermin, disgusting and diseased, ill-fit for their king.

It enrages him, “MOVE!”

“Peace, Thorin, King Under the Mountain,” Thranduil stands, an effortless and fluid motion that causes Thorin to finally realize he’d been sitting strangely this whole time (his legs were not crossed, he thinks confusedly, but knees together and feet BOTH on the ground... because of the dress? no... it’s long so surely...), and raises a regally placating hand. He then makes his way down the stairs leading to his grand throne with a carefulness that has Thorin RESTLESS.

Why does the Elvenking seem so... delicate???

Thorin scowls and squints up at the too-tall creature that also appears too soft this visit and uncomfortably readjusts the heavy chest still in his rough hands. Hardworking hands. Calloused and weathered and not-gentle-enough hands.

Why is this bothering him???

And what is that SMELL??? Flowers? Many of them. All coming from Thranduil; which is odd because Thorin knows--from when he first stood in this throne room and first enraged the Elvenking and first got enveloped in his counterpart’s scent--that Thranduil smells of cypress, myrrh, sandalwood, and wine.

Not FLOWERS.

“... I am in Heat.” Again: no shyness or shame; just a simple statement.

It still sends Thorin reeling.

“That is why I am in a dress: it helps keep the smell in.” He indicates the drape, long and lengthy and THICK in its make, and then--as though to demonstrate--dares to lift the article just slightly enough that Thorin gets a blast of flowers--lavender, rose, sage, lilac, and more--right up his nose and down his pants and just a glimpse of shockingly bare and surprisingly beautiful painted toes.

As the other elves around them seem flustered and concerned, fluttering about like the butterflies Bilbo told him live up in the forest’s canopy, Thorin slowblinks up at the Elvenking with a dazed face but curiously contemplative eyes, “Pink?”

Thranduil seems to slowblink back--he also seems to smile; suddenly, and surprisingly, rather shy. “Petal Pink,” he clarifies with a soft nod and slight shift. The long cloth falls down again, cutting off vast majority of the strong scent, but leaving the painted toes on display. “I have been told it suits me.”

“It does,” Thorin admits, still rather dazed, as he suddenly realizes there’s pink everywhere on the Elfking--in his hair via flowers, on his dress via embroidery, across his face via a blus--and unthinkingly adds: “But blue’d look better.”

Thranduil raises a thick brow, again; but this time he’s amused. “Blue?”

“With silver,” Thorin expands, picturing it in his mind: a beautiful starry night sky, “No: white diamond stars--the crown of Durin on your big toe.”

Thranduil’s face is almost beet red when Thorin looks up to gauge his reaction and the Dwarfking is almost pleased when he sees delight on that ethereal face, “Careful, mell Thorin, King Under the Mountain; or I might feel you courting me.”

((Lowkey tagging @elithilanor because, well, Thranduil with pink toes. Our exchange here made me think you’d appreciate this segment [there’s more coming for anyone curious/into it] but, honestly, if Thorinduil or ABO’verse isn’t your thing just let me know and I’ll remove the tag!))

((PART 2 IS HERE!))

14 notes · View notes

viva-la-runaway · 6 months

Text

Info about me!

~~ Basics ~~

You can call me Ally, or Viva. Either is fine.

I'm 18, bisexual (taken), and I'm a self-taught artist!

I post fanart as well as oc art. My Discord and Instagram are: viva_la_runaway. It's the same as my Tumblr username, so it's not hard to find! I'm more active on there, if you guys want to check out my art.

Dni: Homophobes, minors, proship, zoophiles, pedos, ableists, racists, etc.

~~ Hyperfixations/Fandoms ~~

Here are a few of my fandoms that I hyperfixate on! I went ahead and put down how common it is for these hyperfixations to be active because sometimes certain ones come back much more than others do. :)

Hellboy (common)

Pacific Rim (common)

Portal (common)

Hlvrai (common)

The Stanley Parable (common)

Fnaf (semi-common)

Jazzpunk (common)

Eddsworld (uncommon)

Undertale (very uncommon)

Arcane (semi-common)

Detroit: become human (uncommon)

Overwatch (uncommon)

Don't hug me I'm scared (uncommon)

Tf2 (semi-common)

Crash box (uncommon)

Creepypasta/Marble Hornets (semi-common)

Ocs (common)

Twd (uncommon)

Mlp (semi-common)

Venom (semi-common)

Punch-Out (uncommon)

South Park (uncommon)

Minecraft (uncommon)

Invader Zim (uncommon)

SCP Foundation (uncommon)

~~ Hobbies/Interests ~~

I'm into arts and crafts! I mainly draw digitally, but sometimes I paint, and I plan to start making fur suits soon!

I love to roleplay and talk about my hyperfixations. Talking about headcanons is an excellent way for me to connect with others!

I‘m a multishipper with most of my fandoms, but sometimes I'm more set and stone, depending on the fandom.

A warning to anyone who may end up befriending me: I go on rants. Typically, they're happy rants about my hyperfixations. For example, my girlfriend had to sit through a 10-minute rant about me explaining all the reasons why Prince Nuada is the best Hellboy villain and even one of my all-time favorite villains.

Just…Don’t mention 2019 Hellboy around me. That sparks a not-so-happy rant session. I hate that movie…….

I fucking LOVE aquatic life. Sm.

~~ Roleplay rules ~~

For those who are interested in roleplaying with me, here's some basic stuff to keep in mind.

I do NOT allow:

Mentions of SA, SH, gr*oming, or anything like that. Dead dove stuff is a no-no.

Acting out domestic abuse. Mentions of it is fine, but I will not roleplay it.

Characters randomly getting terminally ill. I lost my dad to cancer, and believe it or not, people have tried forcing it into roleplays before without asking me about it.

Killing off important characters without asking first.

Controlling my character is a no-no. If you need my character to do something for the sake of your reply, please tell me ooc.

I roleplay on Discord, and I do not roleplay with people under the age of 18.

Script roleplay.

Op characters. Strong, yes, op, no.

I DO allow:

Smut/NSFW. The plot can't surround it completely, though.

Double ups.

Gore and violence (to a certain extent)

Angst.

B x B, B x G, G x G, and Poly relationships.

Canon x Canon is preferred. I only do OC roleplays with people I'm close to.

Etc.

I encourage:

Communication ooc. Talking about plot points, headcanons, and potential scenes is a lot of fun for me!

Expressive roleplay is excellent. Don't be scared to hold back character personalities! If my character says something your character would hate, don't hesitate to have them rebel! I love it when people get super in character during roleplay!

If you want to draw a scene from the roleplay, idm that, too! I may even draw scenes from roleplays!

Don't be shy when talking ooc! I still like to make conversation when I'm too tired to roleplay!

I love creativity and descriptiveness. You don't ALWAYS need to be at 100%, though! Don't feel pressured to write extremely long replies if you're too tired or just don't know what to say.

I think that's about it. Thank you for reading! I hope to make some friends here. ❤️

#about me #profile intro #roleplay rules #roleplay #roleplay request #1x1 roleplay #fandoms

2 notes · View notes

tiqalicious · 10 months

Text

Campaign mini story idea: A kindred who can seemingly travel at unbelievable speeds across the city, only for the party to eventually discover said kindred has the unique power to transport themselves anywhere via photographs.

A classic photography darkroom with a wide array of pictures pinned to criss crossing lines, sits tucked away in secret inside of a vintage, roomy 80s apartment who's owner has worked hard to keep it that way. In another room of the house sits a brand spanking new laptop halfway through the process of installing an expensive photography suite, as its owner fervantly begins taking their first steps towards the modern world of digital photography, yet somewhere in the back of their mind, they find themselves unable to shake off the voice telling them never to let go of tradition, and so the darkroom stays.

Three hours ago, the kindred stalked through the streets, following an oddly dressed tourist wandering around the city in board shorts and a bright pineapple shirt during an unexpected stopover on the way to Hawaii. A few moments later, the victim shuffles out of a nearby alley, dazed and confused as they merge back into the nighttime throng, never quite remembering what happened to their beloved digital camera. An excuse to upgrade to the latest model with better cloud integration so as to never lose another precious memory again.

The kindred sits in the alley, staring at the strange device. They'd stayed away from modern tech for an awfully long time, but the camera held such strong potential... perhaps even the ability to right a great wrong.

A high tier kindred within the city, disappears while safe inside their own haven, with no signs of broken entry or exit, only minor evidence of a scuffle and a pile of the kindreds clothes left sitting on the floor. The only thing found upon further investigation is vague, seemingly unhelpful CCTV footage showing smudges, artifacts, film decay and strange lights. If investigation is sufficient, the footage may secretly tell the story of a kindred of some kind looming around, then disappearing after the flash of a camera. Less inscrutable insight might gleam the suggeation of spirits present, but this is a red herring. It all seems so untraceable at first... till it happens two more times, and someone begins to see a pattern.

The coteries presence is requested by the right hand of a panicked, well to do kindred with their haven on complete lock down, terrified of what's about to happen. The right hand explains to the party that a jealous childe is somehow picking off their sires closest confidants, and must be taken down quickly, and the coterie will receive a handsome payout in addition to a favour from a well established kindred player in the city. The coterie receives just enough information to track the perpetrator to an apartment block. Should they find the right apartment and break in successfully, they'll be met with the sight of an uncanny entryway... a short corridor filled with alarming pieces of artwork that all feel a little wrong, each with an aura not far from Edvard Munch's "The Scream", an array of disconcerting, otherworldly paintings focused on the haunted misery of a terrified naked subject, and oh my goodness.... some of those subjects look just like the missing kindred!

Turns out years ago, a handful of kindred had far too much fun playing with their food together. A group of happy drunkards head to the private manor of their new friends as the Kindred lure in their unsuspecting victims and feed on them bit by bit, growing gradually drunk themselves on the alcohol infused blood as they feeding greedily together until only one poor bastard is left. A single drunk fool slowly sobering up enough to comprehend the horror before them, as the voice of the kindred leader Ortence speaks, suggesting they savour their last morsel. Hours of slow agonising torture pass until the last victim dies, and the kindred now completely lost of their regular senses all feed the corpse their vitae together, creating something that wasn't supposed to be... an amalgam of confused powers, drunken emotions, and intoxication, bringing forth a new cursed bloodline.

The new kindred awoke to an empty house, littered with the many corpses of their friends. It takes years to track down who's responsible, and somewhere along the way, the kindred discovers their only true power is to travel through photographs. A lifetime of trial and error begins.

It's important for the photos to be recent, lest the kindred step through into a place far changed from when the snapshot was taken, and end up lodged in a wall, or dismembered by an unexpected wall or doorframe and left to recover. Time difference must also be taken carefully into consideration, lest the kindred step through from their blanket of darkness, into the bright shining arms of final death, as they once narrowly avoided all thanks to some lucky shade.

Others can be pulled along for the journey, but the process is far more disorientating for guests, and for reasons the kindred does not entirely understood, guests belongings do not come along for the journey the same way the kindreds does, so they must always be careful.

For a time, the Kindred is content to simply keep to themselves, exploring the world, free of the sort of travel limitations between cities that are so commonplace for other undead. For a brief moment, somewhere in France, the Kindred breaks into an art gallery, to walk through the halls and enjoy the paintings in peace and quiet, only to find themselves stairing too long at a particular piece, and accidentally shifting inside it, just like they've done til now with pictures. The process is different here. The shift creates a nightmarish place, existing somewhere between the art and reality, hastily conjuring up scribbled things to fill in the empty corners, until it transforms into something wicked and hungry. The Kindred barely escapes with their life, and a powerful lesson is learned.

Back to the modern day and a kindred who finally settled down in the big city after a chance encounter with a digital camera, and the opportunity to finally get revenge, filling the hallway with strange pictures whos canvases slowly shift and change as each victim trapped within tries desperately to flee from the half concieved, nightmarish things slowly catching up.

The Kindred may reveal some or all of this information to the coterie after the haven has been discovered, in the hopes of convincing the group to help deal with the final target... Ortence, the leader of the powerful kindred, currently hiding in complete lockdown for fear of his looming final death. The coterie now have the option to help the cursed kindred and takedown Ortence in order to avenge a great wrong, or catch the kindred off guard and slay them, all for the sake of money and power.

#VtR #vampire the requiem #horror #vampires #kindred #chronicles of darkness #ttrpg #campaign ideas #writing

3 notes · View notes

haechansbrokenpinky · 2 years

Text

Watchdog <D&D roll fic.1>

The first of my D&D Roll fics.

Lee Taeyong x Fem!reader

SMUT [MINORS DNI]

word count: 671

TAGS: dubcon, degradation, semi!public

“Taeyong… we can’t do this here!” You snap at your bodyguard, who’s hand is now up the back of your dress at a VERY important dinner benefit hosted by your father. Without another word the hand is gone, moved to grip your shoulder just a little too tight. When you don’t turn to look at him Taeyong clicks his tongue at you, gripping a bit tighter as he guides you toward the door.

“Where are we going?” You hiss as you pass through the corridor and into the stairwell.

“Shut up.” He barks, pressing the front of your body against the hard tile. Taeyong makes quick work, lifting your dress and pulling your panties to your knees. “This is what you wanted right?”

“Tae stop.” You whimper, his fingers rubbing the smooth expanse of your thighs.

“I said. SHUT UP.” he pinches the inside of your thigh, using his leg to knock yours further apart. Before you could mutter a word your jaw is in his hand, gripping tightly, forcing you to look him in the eyes, tile digging into your cheek. “You said you belong to me. Remember?” His fingers toying with your slit has you whining into his grip. His digits slip into you, pushing another whimper from your throat.

“Taeyong. Why are you being like this? Someone will see.” You sneer through your teeth, arching your back further, giving him more access, one hand coming to grab onto the one on your cheeks.

“Oh my god! Will you stop talking?” He huffs, removing his fingers from your leaking hole and into your mouth. “I thought you’d be good for me?” Taeyong pulls himself from his slacks and pushes deep into you. Taeyong covers your mouth in an attempt to silence the moans, biting his lip to stave off his own.

“Tae please.” You beg, your fingertips begin to turn white while looking for purchase on the tiles, anything to ground you, keep you steady as he ruts into you.

“I heard all about this little fantasy of yours, I hear lots of things when you think I'm not listening.” Taeyongs hand moves from your mouth to your hair, combing through it once before grabbing fist full at the base of your neck. “Fuck. You’re so wet.” He tugs harder on your hair, snapping his hips between each word. All you can do is whine at his words, his length stretching you open has your eyes rolling into the back of your head. “Discretion isn’t really your strong suit…” The hand on your hip pulls you back toward him to meet his thrusts, “You really want to be caught. Everyone will see you, drooling and stupid, just a hole for me to use.” He pushes your face against the wall a bit harder. “That’s why you’re dripping down your legs.” His thrusts become quicker, more precise. Taeyong bites down on your shoulder. Hard. That’s your undoing, you come, focusing only on not screaming. “Wow. That took thirty seconds less than I expected.” He drives into you, his only goal is to reach his own end. “What do you think your daddy’s chairmen would think if they knew you were prancing around the party with my cum dripping from your cunt.”

“Tae. Oh my god. Please cum inside me. I want it.” That’s all he needs to hear for the coil inside him to snap. You can feel him swell inside you, your insides painted white with thick ropes of cum.

“Holy shit. You’re incredible.” Taeyong whispers, kissing the side of your face, helping right your clothing as you both catch your breath. You turn towards him, capturing his lips with yours, throwing your arms around his neck to steady yourself.

“You’re an asshole.” You smile, pinching his arm. “Please never mention my father during sex ever again.” He smiles, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Let’s go before your daddy~ figures out you’re missing from the party. I have a job to do you know."

#nct #nct smut #lee taeyong fanfic #lee taeyong #lee taeyong smut #nct taeyong #nct 127 #nct u #taeyong #kpop smut #kpop fanfic

16 notes · View notes

chaya-mga2022mi6011 · 4 months

Text

Answering a Few Questions

What do I want to do after completing the degree?

I've always aimed to become a Visual Development Artist after completing my degree, but after having the opportunity to work as an Illustrator at Koko, over the last 3 months, I have developed a newfound passion for becoming an Illustrator. Since I've been having a difficult time trying to choose between the two, I decided that I will be focusing on my final major project for MI6021 from the standpoint of a visual development artist, and for this module, MI6011, I will be working on it from the standpoint of an illustrator.

First, to get a better idea, what's the different between a visual development artist and an Illustrator?

Visual development artists and illustrators both work in the realm of visual art, but they have different roles.

Illustrators are artists who use their skills in design, art, and creativity to create visual images. These images can be used in a variety of mediums, including Magazines, Books, Advertisements, Posters, Greeting cards, Medical materials, Children's books, Websites, Technical designs, and Fashion design.

Illustrators use their skills to communicate ideas and stories through their images. They can understand and reinterpret a text, and then communicate it through their illustrations.

Visual development artists, on the other hand, use research and story to establish the look of a film, character, or world. They may work in a variety of roles, including animator, art director, lighting artist, prop artist, and costume designer.

What do I want to be known for?

I want to create narratives and illustrations that not only creatively inspire today’s children but also share an important message and leave a lasting legacy, remembered by generations to come.

What ideas have I been yearning to bring into the world?

I want to create something that’s not only fun but also carries a deeper message, and I think it’s crucial to present these ideas in a way that also makes sense to kids. Making complex concepts easy for them to understand is a big part of what I want to bring to the world.

So, it won’t be just about providing entertainment but also about instilling values, sparking curiosity, and inspiring creativity.

What am I good at? What are my strong suits?

I’d say I’m comfortable with both digital and traditional art. When it comes to digital art, I lean more towards 2D work, where I enjoy painting environments, props, lighting, and setting the mood for a scene. And when it comes to traditional art or mixed media, I’d say my go-to strengths are watercolor painting, crafting with clay, and drawing with ink pen.

So, for my project, I’m thinking of combining both digital and traditional/mixed media aspects to showcase the range of skills I’ve picked up along my creative journey. I want the project to showcase all of the techniques and styles that I enjoy working with.

What am I the most passionate about?

I love telling stories through illustrations and capturing moments and emotions in a way that speaks to people.

After last year’s mixed media module, I realized that I’m also passionate about experimenting with different art mediums and techniques. It keeps things interesting and gives me a chance to look away from the screen and touch paper once in a while, which is nice.

What kind of project would help me to demonstrate all of the skills I’ve learned so far?

Definitely a project with a mix of all digital art, traditional art, and mixed media– a bit of everything. I’d love to create something that’s not just entertaining but also carries a good message, simplified in a way that clicks with anyone and makes it easy for anyone to grasp important ideas.

0 notes

alexandreawinstone · 1 year

Text

Typography Research

For my typography research I wanted to explore as many visual graphics and text as possible, experimenting with different fonts to see which one would suit my brand the most. With all the research that I have sourced I will present these in my digital sketchbook and then start experimenting logo designs on Illustrator. In the previous module, I learnt about typography and how it links in with the brand identity and therefore I will continue on expanding on my knowledge. I have been exploring a website called Hort, Hort is a company who designs graphics and typography marketing material for large companies like Nike, so therefore I will be using Hort as inspiration targeting their strengths and weaknesses. Looking through some of their work, they have a main focus on bold and simple designs for posters, this works effectively for Nike as they have a simple recognisable logo from their identity. With having a logo that is so simple and recognisable means that the marketing materials will still be known by the consumer from the simple fonts and single images that are used. The simplicity of the marketing material shows how modern the brand can be, projecting a message that is simple for the consumer to indicate. I really like the use of this modern and simple effect the create a bold vision and message for the consumer, I think that this will be really effective for my brand as active wear is normally simple designs. Addition to this, I think that it can work really well for my vision and purpose as I want to portray the strong and powerful message of my brand effectively.

I have been doing some research on different design aspects that can help me bring my brand closer to the consumer. As I am passionate about spray paint artists, I have a vision of creating a modern aspect to graffiti, creating an aspect on the modern-day women through rebellion to create my brands community and strength. As my brands aspect is creating a stronger independent woman in the fitness industry, I want to use this type of art to create my brand this vision in my products. I have noticed that there is a growing rate of wall murals in public, even though graffiti is classed as a violation against the law, therefore have researched many artists like Banksy, Cornbread, Tracey 168, Lady Pink and Keith Haring. All these artists use spray paint but they all have different styles that could inspire me to create my packaging and brands logo. I will combine this research with my colour forecast research to start developing my brands logo.

0 notes

technicolor-ave · 2 years

Text

A Practice in Self Admiration

I’m gonna try an exercise here where I congratulate and celebrate some of the things I’ve done in recent years, and detail what I like about them without making concessions.

I really like how in my art I have incorporated some very feminine aesthetics. I I Tend to draw feminine imagery through round shapes, like re interpreting the roundness of my fro, parts of my body, my lips ect. It showed up in pieces like my digital body portrait and in my print making.

In my graphic design class, I was really proud of how I was able to make graphics that were full of the identity I was trying to represent. The quilt work in particular was a very inspired decision for a Brooklyn clothing swap. I think I know my target audience when I choose to make work like that and its one of my strong suits as a GD.

I am really good at life drawing and anatomy, especially after only taking one course on it. I think I could definitely try some more ambitious projects, like drawing a still life of joy. The portrait I did of my self was really full of life in a very subtle way. I like how techinical I was able to be about the anatomy, especially in the neck area, and how that accuracy built meaning into the drawing. I also just love drawing myself lol.

In my ballerina painting, I really appreciate the detail I was able to get in her bodice, tutu, and hair. I also feel pretty proud of her face because it was my first time constructing a face from scratch, and straying away from my own facial features. I think it shows how much I’ve improved that I can fully create characters now without a direct reference. Also, I liked that people caught on to my non traditional narrative. It’s not just a pretty leap photo.

For my thesis painting, I really fw my description of my work. I feel like I really succeeded in bringing people into the painting. Also speaking to people about my work was fun, and I did like that my work had a specific meaning. I like that my characters joy and unapologetic nature came through the painting. To the point someone else pointed it out before I even really thought about it. Like thats amazing actually. When the things I convey manage to make their way through to the viewer. I absolutely adored the use of pink as a skin tone, and I think the abstraction of perspective and features is something I’d like to play with more cause I think the effect it would have would be very very satisfying. Safe to say I think its my favorite work so far.

As a dancer I haven't really seen myself dance in a while, so I’m a little curious as to what I actually look like. However it feels like my choreography reception is so much better than it was at the beginning of the year. I also am really learning how to take up space when I dance and it felt so good on Saturday even though I was fully committing yet. I feel like I have mad potential as a freestyler that I haven’t untapped yet, but I’d like to. Also, after performing Taylors piece I was really struck by how much easier it was to get through that before. I think I’m regaining my stamina back which is great, and even more so all things considered. It also reminded me about how one of my strengths is truly performance. I can really get my body into a character easily, and I think I could take it even farther. I'm also a pretty good communicator and teammate to others and it makes me feel good when I’m able to help and reassure them. Also, I can definitely see what people mean when they say my technique is good. My body just looks good doing contemporary, and the more I do it the more my body agrees with it. Oh! and I’ve gotten much better at popping. I think I’d also do really good learning some more acro soon.

0 notes

3amsnek · 4 years

Photo

Happy international polar bear day y’all

#digital painting #polar bear art #international polar bear day #hey that’s a tag #my art?#digital painting is so very not my strong suit #but I wanted to make Something #so here’s this thingy #not a huge fan but eh #artists on tumblr #looking for images of polar bears was depressing as hell #yay for Thomas’s Spotify keeping me alive currently #this is also composed entirely of things I’m super bad at drawing so that’s fun #yeet it all into the void huzzah

19 notes · View notes

tallaroo · 3 years

Text

I challenged myself to try and mimic the style and designs of seven different artists. And what better subject to draw than technoblade who has some of the most varied designs.

Each artist's style proved to have its own challenges and I've learned a lot of new techniques while I studied them, some which I might even start incorporating into my own art moving forward.

This was very fun to do, thank you to the artists who volunteered (and to those who got selected out of the blue). Please go check out everyone here, they are all extremely skilled and cool people.

Artists featured:

@casboar

@altadoodler

@nachosforfree

@sapphic-omen

@insyndiar

@angst-and-fajitas

@syntiment

↓ Close ups of each and added commentary below the cut ↓

Casboar was the first one I tackled and I may or may not have had a mild breakdown having to remember how to digitally paint people. But being able to keep in some of my construction lines helped in figuring stuff out. Their Techno design is very fun to draw, big fan of the dad bod.

Alta's style intimated me a lot going in due to the more stylized 'cartoonish' feel and the fact that I had to use a brush I'm not as familiar with. But after I finished the sketch I knocked out the lineart in a few minutes and it was easy sailing from there. His stye was actually really fun to draw in once I got comfortable, good shapes there.

Going into this I was the most anxious to draw in this style, I was extremely worried I'd butcher the lineart. But similar to Alta, after I doodled for a bit I was able to get into a good flow and knock this one out pretty quickly. I also had to improvise on the brush since I don't actually have any pixely brushes.

This was the first style to be really challenging. I couldn't find a brush that fit right and all of my sketches were too similar to how I normally draw. So I ended up sitting on their blog and staring at their art for a few hours until I finally pushed myself to start. I probably stayed a little too close to the original sketch since there's definitely some messy parts.

This is the one I procrastinated on. Syn's way of shading/lighting is so cool looking but also terrifying when I remembered I had to do it. I had to alter the sketch several times and marked out where the highlights and shades were going to go. I definitely could have pushed the colors more for better contrast but I got to the point where I was too scared to keep working on it in fear of messing something up.

Realism has never been my strong suit and this is the one I'm the least happy with. Emma's art style kind of reminds me of d&d art and I tried to channel that when drawing but the sketch was too close to how I normally draw and the lineart got messy as a result of that. I should have pushed the value in the shading too but same with Syn's it just got to a point where I was too scared to keep messing with it.

I decided to go monochrome for Syntiment. It looked better that the colored version I did and also I think it just makes stand out more there were also a lot more references to work with. Unfortunately long hair is my enemy, I struggle a lot in drawing it and I had like three layers of sketches just for the hair. I also drew this and Emma's back to back so if they look similar no they don't

#mcyt #technoblade #art challenge #my art #sorry for the @s #click for better quality the pic is huge

407 notes · View notes

shoutogepi · 3 years

Text

Entertainment

┌────── ⋆⋅✧⋅⋆ ──────┐

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 5.3k

[ ☁︎, ✘ (nsfw 18+!) ] angst, smut

𝐛𝐢𝐨 : Much to your chagrin, you realize you have feelings for your explosive coworker with benefits... (continuation of FYIJM/Orange Lambo)

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : ahaha whaaa i bet you had thought this series was abandoned! well, surprise update. i realized the other day that i hadn’t updated this series in a year oops so... have this haha. for those of you who foresaw the angst... great job hehe. also please beware this is unedited... and for that i apologize~

𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : once again, reader is meant to be a fellow pro hero working at the same agency as Bakugou! so Y/H/N is meant to be read as “your hero name”.

└────── ⋆⋅✧⋅⋆ ──────┘

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🄳ark shadows stretch along the tiled floor of the office, cast by the bright moon hanging high and proud in the sky. The fumes from the bustling city are strong challengers to the magnificent orb of light, but they only succeed in swallowing the stars twinkling across the planes of the sky— for the moon beams through them and illuminates the tears glittering down your cheeks.

Bakugou’s hand is firm around your throat as he presses your form against the glass of the floor-length window, your nipples dragging along the chilled surface. You sob in pleasure as his hips dig into your ass, his cock plunging into you. As soon as your mouth opens, his palm slides to cup around your cheek, shoving two thick fingers between your teeth and pressing down against the back of your tongue as far as they can reach. His movements are rough and ravenous, and flush with desire.

Just how you like it.

And he knows it.

Your teeth clamp around the digits and Bakugou releases an angry moan, hooking the fingers around your teeth and throwing your head to the side. “Fuckin brat,” he snarls, his other arm tightening around your stomach to press your back snug against his sturdy chest. “You’re gonna pay for bein’ bad, slut.”

His hips begin to slap mercilessly into you, his hard cock smashing deep into your core, again and again. Your disobedience withers as you’re overwhelmed with pleasure, body melting from his touch to curl into the curves of his instruction. Spine arching and feet sliding apart to welcome him even deeper inside, Bakugou grins at how easily you're broken, his hand leaving your waist to clap against your ass.

A moan decorates the glass with frosted white as you shuffle forward from the spank. Somehow his name tumbles from your lips in a winded cry, and his teeth sink into your neck as his growl vibrates across your heated skin. Your pussy clenches down on his thick length, and he moans even louder into your neck. His palm plants tiny explosions onto your ass as he slaps you another time, only prospering further as you clamp onto him again. “Fuck, you’re tight for a slut, y’know that?” He groans, tongue flicking along the fresh indents of his teeth on your throat.

“If anyone’s the slut here—“ you gasp as his fingers finally move out of your mouth to snag around your neck again. He squeezes the sides of your throat, daring you to finish your sentence. But you’ve already started your counter, and you aren’t backing down now. “— it’s you.”

Even if you had managed to snag a final breath as you finish talking, it’s stolen from you when a feral Bakugou roars behind you, ripping you from the glass and pivoting to shove you across the surface of his tidy desk. You whimper as his cock drags along your slick walls, his balls beginning to slap into your clit mercilessly and sending tingles through your skeleton. You swear and he laughs harshly, both hands gripping onto your hips as he hammers you into the desk. “I’m the slut?” He parrots, giving your non-reddened ass cheek a hard blow with his explosive palm. “When you’re the one who’s begging for me to fuck this sloppy little cunt? Look how wet you are,” he comments, a thumb trailing over your ass to touch the excess slick at the base of his cock. “Shit,” he grumbles as he moves the digit over your ass, dipping into your puckered hole easily with plethoric lubrication.

You whine at the stimulation, his thumb diving into you and rubbing inside. “Katsuki, a-ahh,” you gasp as his hips begin to pick up the pace again, an expletive falling from your lips after a moan.

“Y’like that, hah? See, you can’t even prove your case, Princess,” he chuckles, rolling his hips to grind against your sensitive walls. The action makes a purr of pleasure rumble from your throat, back bowing to offer your ass to him even further, meeting his circling hips. Your submission only spurs him on, his hands pushing your hips back into his in perfect synchronization. “Whose pussy is this?”

The question falls from his lips without thought, and his vermillion eyes widen as he realizes his mistake. Yet what horrifies him is that you don’t pause— you don’t even stray from your perfect speed to match his hips, not even a second out of line— you moan, and reply to him eagerly, “Yours, Katsuki— yours!”

And even though terror floods past the dam he’d so carefully constructed around his heart, his body crumbles at your answer, the spring in his stomach compressing as he nearly cums right there and then. He wants to choke out that he’s close, but somehow he croaks out a command instead. “Then cum for me. Cum on my cock— fuck...”

In your haze of lust you don’t notice how soft his voice has become. You let yourself topple over the edge, pussy squeezing him tight as your orgasm washes over your body. It’s sinfully encaptivating; a tiny morsel of what you can only imagine heaven must feel like. Bliss crashes through you like heavy tides on a rocky sea wall, drenching you completely in sweet, refreshing euphoria.

Bakugou’s tempo is swift and hard, but he relents after a few seconds with the way you milk him like a vise. He gasps as he nearly cums inside you, pulling out at the very last second and painting your back white with his load. He groans as his fist jerks around his cock, head thrown back in ecstasy as he empties his balls onto the canvas of your moonlit skin.

It’s quiet, save for the cocktail of ragged breaths huffing from the pair of you— coming down from your highs and minds clearing of the lust that so easily had dominated you just moments ago. Bakugou falls back into his desk chair, free hand opening a drawer to grab a package of wet wipes. He snags a sheet from the container, hissing as the cool wipe slides along his aching cock. A second towelette glides down the expanse of your spine as he cleanses you of his release, and you hum as he drags the other side of the cloth between your thighs with care.

Cautiously you crawl off his desk, legs twitching as tiny, lingering shocks from your orgasm zip along your limbs. As the lascivious fog begins to clear, the air in the room becoming still and laden with perspiration from your passionate session, your stomach begins to turn. Your brain begins to work again, your heart seizing in your chest as you watch Bakugou tug up his pants. No part of you wants to follow his actions, and yet your body moves on its own, fingertips dragging your leotard up your legs. It’s his office you’re in this time— and he clearly wants you to leave if he’s dressing this quickly.

Bakugou doesn’t say a word, red eyes flicking over your hurried figure. He frowns, though that’s not unusual for him, and swallows back the lump in his throat. Would you stay if he asked you to? The answer surely must be no, and he growls at the thought of fucking this up— whatever this is— by asking stupid questions. What you said was in the heat of the moment, prompted by him himself; certainly you were just desperate to cum, desperate for your high. And yet he can’t stop himself from calling out to you just as you’re about to slip around the corner of his office door.

Bakugou looks just as surprised as you when your name slips from his lips. You stand there in the middle of the doorway, frozen with your doe eyes glued to him expectantly. He doesn’t know what to do— what to say— but somehow he manages to speak. “Grab your stuff and meet me in the garage in five.”

He wants to slap himself. Did he really say that?

You’re stunned, frozen to the spot and blinking at him blankly. Your lips part to respond to him, and yet nothing comes out. All other words failing you, the only thing you can think to say is—

“Okay!”

You blurt out like a buffoon, turning on your heel and making your escape down the hallway, away from the intensity of his gaze. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you try with all your might to squash down the giddy butterflies bursting in your stomach. Logically, it would be sound to assume he’s just taking you to your apartment. It’s late, and the city is dark and filled with all kinds of characters— not like you’re a fellow pro-hero who can protect yourself of anything.

You try your hardest not to let your imagination wander as you’re packing away a few folders from the safety of your office, but you just can’t help the warmth that rises to your cheeks. Perhaps he’s taking you somewhere else? But then again, at this hour, the only other place he could really be taking you is… his place.

No. No way that could be possible. Just— no! You shake your head, smoothing down the skin-tight material of your hero suit before grabbing your bag, jacket thrown over your shoulder as you rush to the elevator.

Bakugou is already in the garage, leaning against his sleek, orange sports-car with something akin to a grimace marring his handsome face. At the sight of you exiting the elevator doors, he pushes himself upright, bulging biceps uncrossing as he makes his way toward the driver’s side of the vehicle. “You sure take your time, Princess,” he comments, vermillion eyes twinkling with snarkiness. “No wonder you’re always playing catch-up on the agency leaderboard.”

Just like that, he’s back to being Bakugou.

“Playing mean to cover up being decent for once?” You retort as you swing the passenger door open, slinging your bag onto the ground before your legs follow, ass meeting the expensive leather seat.

All he gives you is a classic tch, in true Bakugou fashion, before the engine roars to life. You give him your address before he can ask, and he responds with a grunt before he shifts the vehicle into drive. The noise echoes off the cement walls of the garage, and the car’s purring continues as it exits the building. The lacquer shines glossy in the moonlight— the very same moonlight that had kissed your lewd face just ten minutes ago as the man beside you had ravaged you. The recollection makes your eyes move away from the blonde, instead opting to focus on the very interesting interior of the door.

The drive is quick and void of sound, save for the howl of the wind pouring in from the cracked windows. There’s no music, and no conversation, but still, you can’t help the content blooming in your chest. This is the first time that Bakugou has offered to drive you home. Well, besides that one incident that happened a few weeks ago when he took you to that park and… took you for a ride, so to speak. And in this very vehicle. The memory makes your heart race, your teeth taking your bottom lip prisoner.

In no time, you’re pulling up in front of your apartment complex, and your breath hitches as the car comes to a stop. The air is heavy and full of tension, and you can’t help but steal a glance over at Bakugou. The blonde is sitting rigid in his seat, brow furrowed and frown evident on his lips. His hands are wound tight around the steering wheel, and it takes a moment for him to face you directly.

Before you can make a word— a sound, even— Bakugou’s hand cups your face. His touch is gentle, patient as he brings your face to his. When your lips meet, a whimper crawls from your throat. His mouth is warm, movements cautious as his lips brush against yours. The sweet, smoky, caramel-like smell of him twists around your senses, and you lean into his touch, enamored.

It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced with him...

And it’s over immediately.

Bakugou moves backwards, crimson eyes wide and watchful, wary of your every move. Your lips are still parted, and you blink at him as you take in his retreating face, dazed. There’s a pregnant pause as you take each other in, your fingers going to brush your lips in shock. His eyes trail over your lips before he looks at you again. Maybe you’re just imagining it, but there’s something in his gaze that looks a lot like longing.

“Goodnight, Princess.”

His deep voice rumbles in his throat, and goosebumps rise along your skin as his saccharine choice of words sinks in. Your brow furrows as you soak it in, lips parted but no sound coming out.

The look you give him is inquisitive.

But Bakugou only sees it as accusatory.

His demeanor hardens by the second— the brief softness that had just been exposed fleeting fast as his arms cross over his chest. “You gonna sit there all night, dumbass?” He hisses, beautiful red orbs turning into slits.

“Katsuki,” you whisper, reaching out to him. It’s the only thing that your body allows you to say, shellshocked at the vulnerability you’d just seen from him— a revelation as impressive as if you had discovered a new species.

Bakugou only glares at your outstretched fingers, jamming his finger into the side of the door to unlock your own. “Just get out,” he orders. And somehow seeing you flinch at his words, watching as the hurt flashes on your face for just a moment— it spurs him on. “I got someplace to be already.”

With a tight chest, you push your door open, grabbing your bag and casting one last, furtive glance at the explosive man. But his eyes are only on the steering wheel, so you sigh and pick up your jacket from the seat. “Goodnight, Boom-Boy,” you murmur as you retreat from the vehicle, allowing the door to shut.

Little do you know, his gaze follows you until your figure disappears through the heavy doors of the foyer, leaving him alone to the torments of his self-loathing and frustration.

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

Unsurprisingly, you don’t have a great night of sleep. You toss and turn in your sheets, rewinding and replaying every second of interaction in his outrageously-expensive car. Overthinking every word, every pause, every look. All he had wished you was an honest “goodnight”, so why did it feel like there was so much more?

This had been the first time you’d caught a glimpse of what lies beneath the hard, spiny exterior of the man, and yet, it had been but a speck of dust in the wind. You’d seen it for one second. One exhilarating, butterfly-inducing second, and then— it was gone. Vanished. By the time you’d gotten your bearings, it seemed like the man’s shell was even spikier— more abrasive than even his explosive locks, and far more capable of hurting you.

And perhaps you were a little hurt— you mean to say, you are. But that makes you question if you’re just picking up signals that he’s not even aware he’s sending. You’re second-guessing yourself in every sense at this point. All over one kiss, and one “goodnight”.

But it wasn’t just a “goodnight”. It was a “goodnight, princess”. As if that would make such a difference.

A part of you, probably the majority, to be honest, is being rational about this. The two of you haven’t really spoken much about your… relationship, if you even dare to call it that. One evening it had just sort of… happened, and since then, it’s been happening, without much pause. For months, this has been going on. And it was great, at first. The two of you were in exactly the same boat: pro hero, no time for a committed relationship— nor a want for a committed relationship, pent-up and needing some kind of release… and oh, there’s also that white-hot tension that pulls the two of you together every time you see each other. That intensity, that passion, rivalry, and desire— it’s no wonder the pair of you ended up in this seemingly-eternal rendezvous. It’s clear what you both want, what you need— it’s sex.

It’s just sex.

But of course, there’s this small part of you— well, maybe it’s larger than you’d like to admit— that hopes he feels something… more. That he could possibly want you, for more than your body. When you think about it like that, it sounds stupid, like you’re some lovesick preteen who fantasizes about the captain of the football team of something. Reality isn’t really that far though— instead, you’re a fool of an adult who fantasizes about snuggling with her sworn rival-slash-coworker.

Acknowledging it like that sounds rather pathetic, you know... yet you just don’t have the strength in you to squash that ember of hope burning bright in your heart. You don’t want to watch it extinguish, you don’t want to lose that— lose him.

Yet at the same time, you know you can’t keep doing this. Your despicable feelings for the hero only seem to be growing by the day, and you need to cut this thing off sooner rather than later if he’s not on the same page as you.

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

Somehow you find yourself at the door of his office, the bright sunlight of the early afternoon streaming in through the hallway windows and warming your skin. It’s shut, as usual, and it gives you the opportunity to take a deep breath before your fingers find courage to curl into a fist, and tap against the hardwood.

“Come in.” His tone is gruff and curt as always, and you quickly fix your hair before you turn the handle, slipping inside the room and letting the door shut with a quiet click.

Bakugou is sitting behind his desk, an open bento-box and a half-filled form on his tablet laying before his hulking frame. Slitted vermillion eyes land on you, quickly morphing into a curious, cautious gaze.

“Y/N,” he greets, a blonde brow rising to land higher than usual on the tan skin of his forehead. The mask of his hero suit sits limply in the corner of his desk, his handsome face on display for you to drink in.

Your eyes flicker all over him, gliding along his broad shoulders, tracing the lines of the firm muscles on his chest. You can’t help but check him out, knowing fully well what’s underneath that tight suit of his. Bakugou smirks at you, taking his time to inspect you just the same.

“I need to talk to you,” you say, the words spilling from you without much of a thought.

After a tense pause, the hero stands, capping his lunch and making his way around his desk to sit on the front of it. He motions for you to come to him, and your feet move instinctively forward, following his command as you’d done so many times before.

As soon as you’re within arm’s reach, he pulls you to him, and stands you between his legs. Even sitting perched on his desk, he’s still taller than you, and he leans his nose into your neck as his hands glide along your spine. “Yeah?” he purrs, fingers splaying to drag against your skin through your thin hero suit. “And what do we need to talk about, Princess?” His lips flutter on the flushed skin of your neck, taking the hem between his teeth and pulling it back to reveal the darkened evidence of your latest session. Seeing his mark on you excites him, and the heat from his palms bleeds through your suit into your skin.

You can’t help but lean into his caress. His sharp cologne mixes with the honeyed, sugary scent of his skin and envelops you whole, pulling you in like a riptide lurking beneath an innocuous wave. A fragment of a moan escapes you when his mouth lands on the skin at the base of your neck, sucking gently and laving his tongue along your flesh.

“S’a little early to be foolin’ around,” he admonishes teasingly, voice deep and like thunder in your ears, an omen of the approaching storm. But your body wants it— craves the heavy deluge and the fear of scorching lightning that might just strike along your skin. “You like the thought of gettin’ caught, hah?” Bakugou chuckles lowly, teeth grazing your jaw. “Dirty little girl…”

Your palms glide down his thick arms, lamely stiff as your mind is screaming at you to stop— that this isn’t what you came for. Yet his touch makes you woozy, your judgement clouded as you choke on a wanton moan. “N-No, Katsuki,” you whine, fingers curling into his shirt to steady yourself.

“No?” He moves back, an ash-blonde brow rising in mock. “You’re not a dirty girl? Hmm, my memory’s pretty good, Princess, and I’m recalling some pretty irrefutable evidence that’d suggest otherwise.”

His hands slide down to cup your ass, thick fingers crawling between your thighs and prying at your flesh. He fingers over your covered slit, grin widening as you stiffen in his hold, a moan lingering in your mouth.

“No, I meant… I mean, I actually want to talk,” you sigh as you step backwards, away from his muscular body. You move far back enough for his hands to drop from your figure, your arms crossing over your chest defensively as you look toward the ground.

Bakugou seems confused by your refusal, but he clears his throat and adjusts his pants before he shrugs, attempting to appear nonchalant. “Okay…” he sits up slightly, still half-sitting on the ledge of his desk.

There’s an awkward, heavy silence between the two of you as he waits for you to talk. You know he’s waiting, but with every second that passes, the pressure in the room intensifies and makes it more and more daunting for you to speak.

“Do you like me?”

Bakugou’s expression stays guarded, the only indication that he heard you being a raised, unimpressed brow. “Hah?”

You swallow, even though your throat is drier than ever. He’s really going to make this harder than it has to be, isn’t he? But you’ve already prepared to deal with him, in all respects, here and now. “I mean— what is this to you?”

He seems a little flustered now, his eyes darting away from you as his cheeks pinken just a shade. Letting out a scoff, he growls, “I don’t know what you mean by… this.”

His playing dumb doesn’t appease you— in fact, it infuriates you. How dare he act like there’s nothing to discuss between you two?! You’ve indulged this man with vigorous extra-curricular activities for months at this point, and he has the audacity to think he can give you the go-around?

“Fuck off Bakugou, you know what I mean.”

“Oi oi oi,” he moves his big hands, patting air toward you condescendingly. “Let’s not get all upset in the middle of the day. We can talk about this later.”

Bakugou can see immediately that he’s said the wrong thing. Your face screws up and your inquisitive gaze becomes a glare, squaring your stance and your arms sliding uncrossed so you can park your hands on your hips.

“No, fuck that, we’re talking about this now!”

Seeing you pissed off must’ve pissed him off too, because now he stands upright and his menacing gaze burns down on you. “What’s there to talk about? I thought the whole point of it all was to not have to talk about jack shit.”

“Well this isn’t just jack shit!” you snarl, frustration building at how thick of a skull this man has. God, you admire whatever hell of a woman pushed his fatass head out of the womb. “We need to establish what this thing is so we can act like adults for fucking once in our lives! We work together, for fuck’s sake, we need to be responsible about this!”

“Hah?” Bakugou seems more agitated than before, his lip curling as he brandishes his signature sneer. “We’re fucking around, shitty woman, isn’t that the most adult activity we can do?” As if he hasn’t lit your fuse enough, he throws up some patronizing finger quotes when he emphasizes the word.

“So that’s what we’re doing, Bakugou? For months, we’ve just been,” you squint at him, only serving to amplify your unrelenting glare as you throw some aggressive finger quotes back at the man in front of you, “fucking around? Making eyes at each other across the conference table, and spending our nights together, just ‘cuz?”

Bakugou growls in irritation, swiping a large hand over his face from top to bottom as he hisses out profanities. He mutters something under his breath, clearly not wanting to deal with the conversation you’re forcing on him right now.

After waiting for his response for a moment but only receiving radio silence, you continue. “I’m a person, Bakugou, and in case you haven’t noticed, so are you! You can’t just ignore your feelings and act like no one and nothing matters to you!”

“Feelings?!” he shouts with contempt burning in his scarlet eyes, as if some atrocious, vile flavor gushes onto his tongue merely from uttering the word. “Oi, the fuck do you get off talking about my feelings? You don’t know shit about me, Y/H/N.”

His use of your professional hero name makes you bristle in fury, anger flaring and rationality fleeting. Everything’s escalating too fast— this isn’t the way you wanted this conversation to go. Your heart leaping into your throat, you muster the courage to change the tides, to tell him how much you want him. “Fuck you Katsuki, I know you have feelings for me! Because I—”

“I don’t have fuckin’ feelings for you!”

An arrow to the heart— the first sign of damage appears on the thumping muscle in your chest. But still, you continue, too stubborn to back down at this point. “Oh really, Boom-Boy? Then why the fuck are you still here, stuck in this godforsaken tryst with me? What am I to you, huh?”

Your stupid nickname for him makes his fists clench, steam nearly visibly blowing from his ears. “I’m not fuckin’ stuck! You— You’re just—” he buffers, rage still broiling in his gaze as he tries to come up with the most fitting word. But he doesn’t have much time— you’re glaring him down with your hands on your hips, cornering him against his desk and he yells out the first word that comes to mind.

“— entertainment.”

…

The tension in the air thickens noticeably, and you put all your effort into forcing your face not to reveal the hurt that pours into your bones. So this is what it feels like to put your heart on your sleeve… it fucking sucks.

Bakugou seems just as surprised as you are, maybe even more— his jaw hangs open cartoonishly and those red eyes are fixed on you, no longer harsh slits but wide, round orbs.

No matter how hard you try not to show your true emotions, he can clearly see that his words have stung you. The silence that fills the growing void between you two is deafening, weighing down his body as if he’s drowning in his immediate regret. But he doesn’t say anything, he can’t— you’d poked and prodded the sleeping bear of his ego and what he’d said couldn’t just be brushed under the rug and overlooked.

Entertainment. You’re nothing more than that to him. Why did you ever think you could penetrate through the booby-trapped walls around this man’s heart? Of course he didn’t want you for anything other than your body. Of course he didn’t.

For that one moment, you let him see it. You don’t hide the pain that washes over you, and you look him straight in the eye.

Bakugou stifles, throat tightening as he examines your crushed expression. He feels like he’s trapped, a fly that’s landed on a sticky trap that he can’t escape, a sinking feeling weighing down his chest, screaming at him to do something— say something— anything to mitigate the wound he’d just blasted onto your heart. “Y/N…”

And just like that your defenses come back online. He watches as you square yourself off, the soft vulnerability you’d revealed disappearing as your eyes became vacant of emotion. If anything, it looks like understanding, and it squeezes Bakugou’s chest like you’ve pulled a string tight around his lungs.

“Okay,” you murmur, your voice calm and low.

Bakugou is frozen, body unwilling to suck it up and take back the word even though his heart is so desperately screaming at him to do so. But he just can’t, he can’t take it back because then he’d have to admit it was a lie he only threw out in an attempt to save his own feelings from getting hurt. If only he knew that causing your pain would hurt a thousand times more.

You clear your throat awkwardly, taking a step back from him. Gaze dropping to the floor, your arms come out to cross atop your chest, a makeshift shield for your battered resolve. “I don’t think we should do this anymore,” you whisper, but Bakugou hears it clear as day. He can’t breathe— he’s stuck to his spot as if that damn Icyhot bastard had frozen him himself. “I just… I've worked too hard for my career to be derailed by... whatever this was…”

Somehow Bakugou nods, even though he doesn’t want to. His body moves on its own, on autopilot, as his own arms cross over his chest, and he sits back down on top of his desk. He’s still looking at you, chest heavy with bated breath.

“If the public were to find out about us fucking around, that would become my reputation as a hero, and… I just— I can’t, Katsuki.”

Your voice trembles as you whisper his name, and Bakugou’s heart feels like it’s being stabbed over and over again.

“From now on, we’re just Ground Zero and Y/H/N, okay? Back to normal…” you smile but it doesn’t reach your eyes. Not at all.

Bakugou finally gets some control of his body, lips parting as he desperately searches for the right words that could somehow reverse this mess. All that comes out is a rough “Fine.” He cringes, frustration with himself building now more than ever. What’s wrong with him? That’s the opposite of what he wants, why can’t he say anything?!

You avert your eyes once more, turning to leave. Halfway through the door, you look back at him and pause. “See you around, Boom-Boy,” you breathe, the click of the door following, and leaving Bakugou to sink into his own self-loathing and regret.

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

AWAA so reader and blasty have finally realized their feelings for one another... unfortunately this is a bakugou fic so of course he sucks at communication. i’m sorry if he’s ooc, as i said in my notes i havent written for him in a year lmao RIP. anyways i intend to make a fourth and final part with the resolution sooo i hope that i will have enough motivation to make that happen soon!

as always please let me know if you enjoyed! <3

➥ masterlist

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugou katsuki fic #bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou fic #mha x reader #mha smut #mha fic #bnha x reader #bnha smut #bnha fic #bakugo smut #bakugo fic #bakugo x reader #idk man i suck at tags

623 notes · View notes

sentinelpri · 3 years

Note

yoo I was wondering if I could request something with tfa optimus having a crush on a reader who’s like,, a bot higher up in command if that makes sense? maybe they’re an accomplished warrior/well known commander or something? I don’t have a preference for hcs/scenarios or w/e so it’s completely your choice!

Hey! Sounds like a great request, here’s some headcanons my friend:

As soon as I read this, I was like oh my God, Ultra Magnus’s kid. Imagine he had y/n with whoever you want, not really concerned with that, but yeah.

You’re the same age as Optimus, but you were always very sheltered due to Ultra Magnus wanting to keep you protected from his enemies, so you received private training to join the Elite Guatd and were very well guarded from the public until then after Ultra Magnus’s carrier died in battle.

Optimus never gets the chance to interact with you much, but he’s seen you a lot considering that Ultra Magnus actually trusts you. You’re a beautiful, strong-looking femme with bright optics and a (f/c) and white paint-job. Usually, you’re with Ultra Magnus or with Sentinel Prime and his squad, but something he notices about you is that you’re very... Kind and casual.

He figures it’s something about having been raised by someone so formal and stiff that you’ve developed such an easygoing personality, but you do get rather serious when it’s appropriate. You’re intelligent, an amazing strategist, and brilliant in combat- he can’t help but admire you when he sees you around Ultra Magnus during his academy training.

What starts as interest and admiration turns into adoration and respect when Elita-One has her accident. You object in court when Sentinel pins the blame on him, and though Ultra Magnus quickly tells you to stand down, he appreciates the gesture.

There had always been a tension between the two of you that he couldn’t explain, his feelings aside. Any time he went to stare at you, you were already looking at him, your gaze intense. Any time he would walk by you, you seem to touch him somehow- a servo on his shoulder, digits brushing past his back, shoulder bumping into his- something. He isn’t sure if it’s accidental or not.

You don’t really see each other after that court hearing though- you join the Elite Guard and become a Prime alongside Sentinel, whose guts you hate, and he becomes a space bridge technician. His interest fades for a bit once he crashes on earth and starts his battle against the Decepticons there with his team, but he can’t help thinking of you every once in a while and blushing whenever one of the other bots mentions your name in passing. He finds himself missing having you around sometimes, even if you didn’t get to interact much.

Even when Sentinel and the Elite Guard show up on earth, you don’t come with them, occupied with business matters back on Cybertron.

After the attack on Ultra Magnus, as pissed off as Sentinel Prime is about it and as much as Sentinel Prime tries to appeal the decision in court, you’re appointed the new Magnus. The final battle with the Decepticons happens, and Optimus- for the first time in a long time- returns to Cybertron to give you back your father’s hammer, which Sentinel had tried to take from you behind your back, only for Ratchet to go to Cybertron, take it, and bring it back to him.

He enters your quarters and finds you working on preparations for Ultra Magnus’s and Prowl’s funerals, as Ultra Magnus’s injuries were too great for him to survive and Prowl had sacrificed himself in the final battle. Optimus was just grateful that you were making sure both were given a proper service even though you had so many other things to be juggling as the new Magnus.

It was late, so you were alone working since you didn’t like having guards around you, and he had come by himself.

He apologizes for having kept the hammer for so long and offers it back, only for you to tell him that it’s better suited to him anyways- you wouldn’t use it, it brings back too many memories of your father who you’re still grieving and you have your own weapons that you’re already accustomed to. After that, he finds himself watching you work, utterly captivated by how much you’ve matured in what felt like such a short amount of time.

He’s unsure of what to do and doesn’t want to overstay his welcome, so he turns to leave, only for you to tell him to sit down at your work table- you say you have some high quality oil you’ve been dying to share with somebot, and Sentinel just doesn’t make the cut, Jazz is still on earth, etc.

Optimus agrees and sits down across from you, both of you with your own container of oil. The two of you are restrained and handle your drinks well, so neither of you overdo it, and all the oil does is relax the mood. After a few moments of silence, you finally come out with it.

“I think you’ve done well despite everything you’ve been through. How would you feel about becoming the commander of the Elite Guard?”

He’s baffled, obviously. How was he to go from being shunned for Elita’s accident to commander of the Elite Guard? How would Cybertron react? “What about Sentinel?”

“My father always had a soft spot for him, so I won’t kick him to the streets, but I don’t want him having such a huge responsibility. I’m thinking about giving him a position as my guard.”

You’d never liked having guards around, but it was a fair idea. Ultra Magnus would’ve preferred you had one, and the one time he was unguarded, Shockwave took advantage.

“Do you think I’m ready for such a huge responsibility more than Sentinel Prime?”

“I consider us equals,” You admit. Optimus is taken aback by it, but finds himself reflecting; maybe he’s a bit too relaxed from all the drinks, but maybe he’s also become more aware of just how short life is and how much more honest he needs to be with himself and others due to the recent events.

So, he decides to tell you the truth. “If you consider us equals, then... I’d like to tell you something important. Honestly.”

“Go on.”

“You’ve always been above me, so I haven’t felt it appropriate- even now, it feels questionable, but I feel like you need to know, and life is so short... I’ve always been fond of you, (y/n).”

“I’m fond of you, too, Optimus.”

“No, I mean... I’ve developed feelings for you, over the stellar cycles. Ever since we were in training.”

You don’t even hesitate, LMAO. You just lean across the table and push everything to the side so you can grab him by his shoulders and slam his lips against yours.

Apparently, he wasn��t imagining the tension after all-

#tfa #transformers #transformers animated #optimus prime #tfa optimus prime #tfa ultra magnus #ultra magnus #tfa sentinel prime #sentinel prime #optimus prime x reader #headcanons #asks #ask #my asks #request #requests

152 notes · View notes